Article paru dans le Bulletin n° 54 de l' Association for the Study of Travel in Egypt and the Near East :
Bruno Cassiers has produced an interesting, and in several
respects pioneering, book which occasionally provides a few challenges
for those interested in the history of travel and exploration of Egypt
between the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 20th centuries. It
is satisfying to be able to state that the time has, at last, arrived
when the interest and value of early records of Egypt, such as drawings,
watercolours and photographs, are being generally recognized. For some
they are primarily works of art in the romantic and occasionally
slightly titillating Orientalist tradition while others regard them as
an important testimony to the Egypt of their day and a potential source
of ‘hard core’ information for Egyptologists, Islamic and Coptic art
historians and social anthropologists. Books which make use of such
early records are increasing in number and L’Égypte Dessinée is a
distingushed addition to the genre. It has not come as a complete
surprise: we were alerted to its gestation by the paper which the author
gave at the ASTENE biennial conference in Oxford in 2011.
Those who acquire this substantial volume of 319 pages get
value for their money. There is a good-size image, often in colour, on
almost every 24.5 by 27 cm page, accompanied by a succinct text
specifically referring to the image. Cassiers is informative without
descending into over-specialized discussion. Although organized into
chapters, there is no continuous narrative as such except in the
‘Introduction’. The author has tried to use as much as possible the
original artwork gleaned from archives and similar institutions rather
than reproductions which appeared in contemporary publications. The
selection of the drawings clearly aims at originality. Many of the
artists are not so well known and quite a few of them are, at least for
me, new. Particularly noteworthy are the drawings by those accompanying
Napoleon’s expedition, such as François Cécile, Nicolas Jacques Conté
and André Dutertre. Howard Carter’s ‘The sailmakers’ bazaar’, dating to
1906, i.e. the period between his resignation from the Antiquities
Service following the Saqqara bust-up and the beginning of his
association with Lord Carnarvon, is interesting because it shows his
skills as an artist. Among the images published for the first time are
the views of Kom Ombo, probably by Robert Hay, and of Dabod by Charles
Barry, and a panoramic view of Philae, probably by Frederic Catherwood.
True to the book’s title, no photographs have been included.
There is an ‘Introduction’ (pp. 9-12), nine chapters which
divide the material geographically (pp. 13-275) and a tenth chapter
which reproduces some memorable passages from books by early travellers,
especially Amelia Edwards (pp. 277-87). The Annexes on pp. 289-317 are
particularly valuable. There is a list of sites and monuments with
indications of which artists worked there, a chronologically arranged
list of 166 artists active in Egypt between 1737 and 1934, a list of
sources of the images reproduced, a list of books, starting with de
Bruyne’s Voyage au Levant published in 1700, which contain images of
Egypt, an index of authors of such publications, and a list showing
where the main collections of the original drawings are kept. The book
can thus be approached from several different starting points.
Geographical limits of the book are defined by Cairo in the
north and Abu Simbel in the south. I must confess that this I find
somewhat perplexing: most of the travellers to Egypt arrived by sea in
Alexandria and from there then proceeded to Cairo and further south. The
absence of Alexandria, with its harbours, obelisks and Pompey’s Pillar,
can only be explained by the author’s preferences for images of
buildings or by practical difficulties which he faced when making his
own sketches. The Delta sites, on the whole, were less attractive for
early artists and so, understandably, their complete absence in the book
is due to the lack of early coverage. The area between Cairo and Thebes
(Chapter 5) has only a limited selection of sites. Surprisingly, there
are no images of the Great Sphinx at Giza, mirroring a similar lack of
interest by Herodotus some 2,500 years earlier. Chapter 8 (‘Between
Thebes and Aswan’) includes the only Coptic monument, the monastery of
Apa Simeon at Aswan.
Almost all illustrations in the book are accompanied by
Cassiers’s own drawings, over a hundred of them, made between 1991 and
2009. These show the monuments in their present state and make the book
special. The buildings on Cassiers’s sketches are, of course, ‘cleaned
up’, without the blemishes and minor injuries brought about by the
passing of time, but a picture often says more than a thousand words and
makes the comparison between old and contemporary easier. The idea is
not new but, as far as I know, this is the first substantial attempt at
comparing old records with the current state of monuments. There are
also very useful and beautifully clear maps and plans, for example of
Cairo, Karnak, Luxor, the Theban West Bank and Nubia.
One thing which attracts one’s attention immediately is the
unusually large number of illustrations of Islamic monuments: four
chapters out of nine, i.e. nearly a half. This probably correctly
reflects the attention paid to them by the early artists, at least
partly encouraged by the relative ease with which the drawings could be
made. In the same way, practicalities were probably decisive when the
author was making his own sketches.
Cassiers’s ‘Introduction’ occupies a mere four pages but
contains several perceptive observations. One of them concerns the
relationship between drawings and photographs and here he introduces a
word of caution into the use of drawings as a source of information on
the state of monuments. The definition of the artist’s aims behind many
of them, given by the French painter Eugène Fromentin as ‘to seek the
truth above the exactitude’, should be a warning to many uncritically
enthusiastic scholars. To recognize how far an old visual record can be
trusted is one of the main difficulties facing an archive researcher.
The author also points out the pitfalls of trusting too much engravings
or lithographs in contemporary publications: they were often made by
engravers or lithographers who had no experience of Egypt.
This is a carefully prepared and attractively produced book.
It is a joy to read or just to browse through and one will want to
return to it on many occasions in the future.
Jaromir Malek