A thousand miles up the Nile

by Amelia B. Edwards

There were whispers about this time of a tomb that had been discovered on the western side—a wonderful tomb, rich in all kinds of treasures. No one, of course, had seen these things. No one knew who had found them. No one knew where they were hidden. But there was a solemn secrecy about certain of the Arabs, and a conscious look about some of the visitors, and an air of awakened vigilance about the government officials, which savored of mystery. These rumors by and by assumed more definite proportions. Dark hints were dropped of a possible papyrus; the M. B.’s babbled of mummies; and an American dahabeeyah, lying innocently off Karnak, was reported to have a mummy on board. Now, neither L—— nor the writer desired to become the happy proprietor of an ancient Egyptian; but the papyrus was a thing to be thought of. In a fatal hour we expressed a wish to see it. From that moment every mummy-snatcher in the place regarded us as his lawful prey. Beguiled into one den after another, we were shown all the stolen goods in Thebes. Some of the things were very curious and interesting. In one house we were offered two bronze vases, each with a band of delicately engraved hieroglyphs running round the lip; also a square stand of basket-work in two colors, precisely like that engraved in Sir G. Wilkinson’s first volume,[233] after the original in the Berlin museum. Pieces of mummy-case and wall-sculpture and sepulchral tablets abounded; and on one occasion we were introduced into the presence of—a mummy!

All these houses were tombs, and in this one the mummy was stowed away in a kind of recess at the end of a long rock-cut passage; probably the very place once occupied by the original tenant. It was a mummy of the same period as that which we saw disentombed under the auspices of the governor, and was inclosed in the same kind of cartonnage, patterned in many colors on a white ground. I shall never forget that curious scene—the dark and dusty vault; the Arabs with their lanterns; the mummy in its gaudy cerements lying on an old mat at our feet.

Meanwhile we tried in vain to get sight of the coveted papyrus. A grave Arab dropped in once or twice after nightfall and talked it over vaguely with the dragoman; but never came to the point. He offered it first, with a mummy, for £100. Finding, however, that we would neither buy his papyrus unseen, nor his mummy at any price, he haggled and hesitated for a day or two, evidently trying to play us off against some rival or rivals unknown, and then finally disappeared. These rivals, we afterward found, were the M. B.’s. They bought both mummy and papyrus at an enormous price; and then, unable to endure the perfume of their ancient Egyptian, drowned the dear departed at the end of a week.

Other purchasers are possibly less sensitive. We heard, at all events, of fifteen mummies successfully insinuated through the Alexandrian custom-house by a single agent that winter. There is, in fact, a growing passion for mummies among Nile travelers. Unfortunately, the prices rise with the demand; and although the mine is practically inexhaustible, a mummy nowadays becomes not only a prohibited but a costly luxury.

At Luxor the British, American and French consuls are Arabs. The Prussian consul is a Copt. The Austrian consul is, or was, an American. The French consul showed us over the old tumble-down building called “The French House,”[234] which, though but a rude structure of palm-timbers and sun-dried clay, built partly against and partly over the temple of Luxor, has its place in history. For there, in 1829, Champollion and Rosellini lived and worked together during part of their long sojourn at Thebes. Rosellini tells how they used to sit up at night, dividing the fruits of the day’s labor; Champollion copying whatever might be useful for his Egyptian grammar, and Rosellini, the new words that furnished material for his dictionary. There, too, lodged the naval officers sent out by the French in 1831 to remove the obelisk which now stands in the Place de la Concorde. And there, writing those charming letters that delight the world, Lady Duff Gordon lingered through the last few winters of her life. The rooms in which she lived first, and the balcony in which she took such pleasure, were no longer accessible, owing to the ruinous state of one of the staircases; but we saw the rooms she last inhabited. Her couch, her rug, her folding chair were there still. The walls were furnished with a few cheap prints and a pair of tin sconces. All was very bare and comfortless.

We asked if it was just like this when the sittèh lived here. The Arab consul replied that she had “a table and some books.” He looked himself in the last stage of consumption, and spoke and moved like one that had done with life.

We were shocked at the dreariness of the place—till we went to the window. That window, which commanded the Nile and the western plain of Thebes, furnished the room and made its poverty splendid.

The sun was near setting. We could distinguish the mounds and pylons of Medinet Habu and the side of the Ramesseum. The terraced cliffs, overtopped by the pyramidal mountain of Bab-el-Molûk, burned crimson against a sky of stainless blue. The foot-path leading to the valley of the tombs of the kings showed like a hot white scar winding along the face of the rocks. The river gave back the sapphire tones of the sky. I thought I could be well content to spend many a winter in no matter how comfortless a lodging, if only I had that wonderful view, with its infinite beauty of light and color and space, and its history and its mystery always before my windows.[235]

Another historical house is that built by Sir G. Wilkinson, among the tombs of Sheik Abd-el-Koorneh. Here he lived while amassing the materials for his “Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians;” and here Lepsius and his company of artists put up while at work on the western bank. Science makes little impression on the native mind. No one now remembers Champollion, or Rosellini, or Sir G. Wilkinson; but every Arab in Luxor cherishes the memory of Lady Duff Gordon in his heart of hearts, and speaks of her with blessings.

The French house was built over the roof of the sanctuary, at the southern end of the temple. At the northern end, built up between the enormous sandstone columns of the great colonnade, was the house of Mustapha Aga, most hospitable and kindly of British consuls. Mustapha Aga had traveled in Europe, and spoke fluent Italian, English, and French. His eldest son was Governor of Luxor; his younger—the “little Ahmed” whom Lady Duff Gordon delighted to educate—having spent two years in England as the guest of Lord D——, had become an accomplished Englishman.