Ancient Egyptians lived closely with their animals, farming and herding domestic ones, hunting and capturing wild species. Their highly narrative art tells us that monkeys, lions, and hyenas were tamed and kept as pets; that oryx, ibex, ducks, and geese were captured, reared, and fattened for slaughter; that pelicans, egrets, and herons were domesticated and trained by fowlers as decoys for waterfowling. Interestingly, although ducks, goats, antelopes and the hippopotamus were never sacred, no animal, not even rats or hyenas (with the slight exception of the pig), was despised.
The Egyptians saw in animals the universe’s superhuman capacity for renewal and regeneration, which was of supreme importance to them. Sometimes the symbolism is obvious. The goddess of birth, Heket, was exemplified in the multiparous frog; the power to create life was expressed by the inseminating potency of the ram-headed god, Khnum; maternal nurturing was conveyed by the cow-goddess of the Milky Way, Hathor. And to assist in the rejuvenation of the dead, priests placed funerary votives in tombs of small faience animal figurines, like the drought-resistant jumping desert rodents called jerboas.
Gods also assumed animal forms to represent themselves physically on earth to man, providing them with a body to express the eternal soul, or ba, of the god in its “theriomorphic” (animal) form. Thus, Egyptians venerated the manifestation of the god and not the animal itself. For example, the ram was the soul of Amun-Re, the bull Spis that of Ptah, and the crocodile the ba of the water god, Suchos.
Nevertheless, animal cultism took hold at the end of the New Kingdom (approximately 1,000 BC), a period associated with spiritual decline. Belief in animals as the physical incarnations of gods increased in Ptolemic and Roman Egypt until many richly decorated temples became devoted to raising huge numbers of sacred species. At Crocodilopolis, in the temple consecrated to the cult of Suchos, hundreds of crocodiles were maintained in luxury and ritually mummified for burial. In worship of Thoth, ibis were bred on a massive scale in religious sanctuaries, their eggs incubated in huge ovens. Temples to the goddess Bastet became immense catteries crawling with thousands of felines cared for by priests.
Huge numbers of animals were prepared for eternity with the same care as important humans. Animal sacrifice and mummification reached its peak after 700 BC. At Saqqara, as many as 1.5 million ibises have been uncovered, as well as lions, baboons, mongooses, falcons, cattle, and dogs. At the end of the 19 th century, the British carted away some 19 tons of cat remains—corresponding to some 180,000 painstakingly mummified animals – and turned it into fertilizer.
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In Egyptian art, animals are expressed with anatomical correctness, but with all “unnecessary” details eliminated. In reliefs depicting fishing scenes, the fins, gills, eyes, and lips (but not the scales) of mullet, carp, perch, and catfish are accurately differentiated, including their skeletons as they are skinned and prepared for salting. In scenes of desert antelope, artists distinguish between each species’ horns, ears, hooves, and sexual characteristics such as the muscularity of the neck.
This led to “frontalism,” in which the subject is seen from its most characteristic angle: the head is drawn in profile, but the eye and eyebrow from the front. The highest expression of this is in hieroglyphic script, in which some 30 species of birds can be identified in various symbols.
But overall harmony of composition outweighed anatomical accuracy, and the integrity of design that of physical reality. To emphasize symmetry, oryx and ibex, male and female, human and hare, are all the same size. This creates a pattern or motif that makes such works dynamic and alive, despite their rigid forms and static positions. This geometrical regularity gives a consistency and balance that makes this art immediately appealing.
Artistic conventions also gave precedence to colors that were expressive rather than real: red skin implied vigorous youth; yellow skin denoted women or middle-aged men who worked indoors; blue or gold indicated divinity, because of its unnatural appearance and its association with precious materials; black was used for royal figures to communicate the fertility of the Nile from which Egypt’s riches arose.
Today, we stand in museums in New York, Paris, Berlin, and London and can almost touch Ancient Egyptian life. Whether monumental statuary or combs, mirrors or drinking vessels, they reverberate with the spiritual connection between people and animals woven into the very fabric of their daily life.
Unfortunately, of the multitude of species of mammals, fishes, birds and insects over which the ultimate Lion King—the Sphinx—serenely presided, one third, including the sacred ibis, are now extinct in Egypt.
Thirty years ago, Brooke Chilvers traveled all the way to Cairo to see Tutankhamen’s mummy, guarded by a statue of the jackal god of embalmment, Anubis. But when she got there, the room was bare. The entire exhibit was on display—in New Orleans. |