Nowadays it is only under exceptional circumstances, and within carefully prescribed limits, that a European is permitted to make excavations. The laborers ask quite a high price,—in Thebes I had to pay each man six full piasters (one mark, twenty pfennige)—and, if one disinters any monuments, even under the most favorable circumstances, only such single specimens are permitted to leave the country as the vice-regal museum is already rich in. Lepsius was more fortunately situated. The monuments which he found in Ethiopia and wished to add to his collection were brought from Mount Barcal to Alexandria on government vessels, and to these were also added three tombs, from the neighborhood of the pyramids of Ghizeh, which had been carefully taken to pieces with the help of four workmen sent expressly for the purpose from Berlin. On his departure from Egypt he received a special written permit for the removal of the collection, and the objects obtained were themselves presented to King Frederick William IV. of Prussia, by Muhamed ‘Ali.
With full authority to take possession of all that might embellish the Berlin collection, Lepsius appropriated what was most desirable and most interesting wherever he found it, and ventured, as we have seen, to remove whole tombs from the necropolis of ancient Memphis to the Spree. This could not be done without injury to the adjoining tombs, as they had consisted of a number of rooms collectively, and envy, ill-will and stupidity were quickly at hand to accuse the Prussian expedition of having, like impious Vandals, plundered and injured the monuments in pursuit of their own purposes. But this accusation was entirely unfounded, and any one who knows the condition of Egypt at that time can only rejoice that so many treasures, which were neglected and exposed to wanton destruction in their native country, were at a favorable moment removed to Europe and preserved in a fine public museum.
No farther assurance is needed that Lepsius and his companions neither laid hands upon nor destroyed a single stone unnecessarily, but it will be expedient to mention here that since the French expedition and the completion of the great work on monuments prepared by it, a series of ancient edifices portrayed therein have vanished from the earth.
Between our first and second visit to the Nile an interesting little temple at Erment had been turned into a sugar factory, and in the same space of time the fine remains of a Grecian portico of white marble, which had adorned the old Bes-Antinoopolis, had found their way to the lime-kiln. This could occur at a time when the monuments were lovingly and jealously guarded by the vigilant eye of Mariette, and hence it is easy to conjecture what dangers threatened them as long as they were left entirely at the mercy of every encroachment of the fellahin.
In a letter from the necropolis of Memphis, long before the above-mentioned accusations were brought against him, Lepsius wrote: “It is really shocking to see how every day whole trains of camels come here from the neighboring villages, and march back again in long files, laden with building stones. Fortunately,—for everything is fortunate under some circumstances,—the lazy fellahin are more attracted by the Psamatik tombs than by those of the oldest dynasties, whose big blocks are too unwieldly for them.”
Therefore we may confidently designate the removal to Berlin, just at that time, of the three tombs from Memphis and the other monuments, as an act of protection. Only the pillar which Lepsius removed from the perfectly preserved tomb of Seti I. at Thebes, should have been left in its place.
The travellers, filled with enthusiasm for their task, had a long and difficult journey to take in the course of their investigations and search for spoils. It led them all, by ships, upon the backs of camels, and on foot, with many delays and digressions, into the heart of the African continent, as far as Khartoum at the junction of the two sources of the Nile. Then, alone except for the company of Abeken, Lepsius sailed on up the Blue River as far as the village of Romali, between Sennar, the celebrated ancient capital of the Sudan, which he visited, and Fazokl.
The last letter from our wayfarer is dated from Smyrna, and was written on the seventh of December, 1845, much more than three years after his arrival at Alexandria. From the very first, a long period of traveling had been contemplated, and the leader had taken pains to establish his own position with regard to the whole party, and the rights and duties of each individual member of it, as well as to provide for “suitable intellectual diet.” The commanding nature of his distinguished and imposing personality had, if we except the excesses of the moulder Franke, obviated throughout the whole time any illegitimate opposition to, or rebellion against, his position as chief. How justly, kindly and wisely this was maintained may best be shown by the friendship and attachment manifested towards him till death by Abeken, Erbkam, the Weidenbachs, and all the other members of the expedition, with the exception of Franke.
And this is no light matter, for nowhere do disagreements of every kind occur more readily than among a small party, who, separated from their native civilization, have to endure, in addition to many deprivations, the burden of an enervating climate; and who, tormented by discomforts, fatigue, and homesickness, yield only too easily to gloomy and discontented moods, beneath whose spell it is hard to be just and to submit cheerfully to the will of another. Lepsius himself says that from the beginning he tried to diversify the life of his party, and especially the irksome and very monotonous work of his artists, not only by the weekly holiday of Sunday, but also, as often as an opportunity offered, by cheerful merry-makings and pleasant diversions.
One must himself have lived and worked in the Orient, far from the bustle of cities, to appreciate what it is to pass on from days to weeks and from weeks to months as on a monotonous road without stopping-places. In such a place and at such times one feels the blessing of our Sunday holiday, and Lepsius’ fellow-travellers would certainly have fallen a prey to fatigue and disgust during their long period of traveling and working together, if their chief had not observed the feasts and holidays peculiar to their own country, and had not kindly and judiciously taken account of their spiritual needs. One of the most beautiful memories of our own life is that of the moment when, after many months of wandering through Moslem lands, we unexpectedly heard a church bell ring on Christmas day. It was long, long since we had listened to the sound, and for the first time we fully appreciated its elevating loveliness, when standing in front of the little Protestant church in Upper Egypt from whose modest tower it resounded.