Scarabs — A Reader’s Guide

From Cylinders to Scarabs

Newberry opens with cylinder seals, the earliest form of Egyptian seal, and devotes several plates to them before introducing scarabs proper. Plate III, for instance, depicts black steatite cylinders bearing personal names in primitive hieroglyphs, each name determined by a seated figure. The author then moves to scarabs, which he treats as a later development. This progression is not merely chronological but also functional: cylinder seals were rolled across clay, while scarabs were stamped. Newberry’s emphasis on the material—steatite, wood, ivory—and on the inscriptions’ evolution from uncertain symbols to royal names underscores a structural shift from generic to specific identification.

Recurring Animal Imagery

Across the plates, certain animals recur with notable frequency. Lions appear as emblems of royal power, as on the ring of Hor-em-heb, where a marching lion is paired with the phrase “Neb Khepsh” (Lord of Valiance). Scorpions and crocodiles also appear, often on the sides of bezels, as in the same ring. These creatures are not merely decorative; they carry symbolic weight, linking the seal’s owner to divine or royal attributes. Newberry’s descriptions highlight how such imagery persists from pre-dynastic times—Plate IV includes birds, gazelles, and traps—into later dynastic periods, suggesting a continuity of iconographic tradition.

Movement Between Scenes

Newberry’s narrative moves fluidly between archaeological evidence and artistic representation. Plate II, for example, depicts a scene from the tomb of Hûŷ at Thebes, showing the investiture of a governor with an official seal. The author describes the ring and bezel as colored yellow to represent gold, linking the painted image to actual artifacts. This interplay between two-dimensional art and three-dimensional objects is a recurring structural device: Newberry frequently juxtaposes tomb paintings with physical seals, allowing readers to see how seals were used in ritual and administrative contexts. The movement from plate to plate thus mirrors the movement from depiction to object.

The Weight of Detail

Newberry’s attention to physical specifics—weights, materials, dimensions—grounds his study in tangible evidence. He notes that the ring of Hor-em-heb weighs 125.50 grains and is made of solid gold, with a bezel pierced longitudinally and secured by gold wire. Such details recur throughout the text, from the “beautifully cut ivory cylinder-seal” of Plate III to the “black steatite” of earlier examples. This precision serves a dual purpose: it authenticates the objects and provides a basis for comparison. By cataloging these attributes, Newberry enables readers to distinguish genuine artifacts from contemporary forgeries, a concern he explicitly addresses in his preface.

Readers approaching Scarabs will benefit from moving sequentially through the plates, noting how Newberry’s arrangement traces a developmental arc. Pay attention to the recurring motifs—lions, scorpions, hieroglyphic formulas—and to the way the author shifts between tomb paintings and physical seals. The work is best used as a reference, but its structure rewards a linear reading that reveals the logic behind Egyptian seal design.

There’s something tender about watching patterns persist across centuries—lions and scorpions carved into tiny stones, unchanged in their intent. It reminded me of how Harrow: A Sketch Book — Text and Context lingers on small, repeated gestures in place, the quiet weight of familiarity. Both feel less like studies, more like someone patiently showing you what they noticed, and letting it stay with you.