It was difficult to see at once what we had lost, and where we ought to begin to bring things into order again. The two Weidenbachs and Frey had observed the whole scene from the tombs where they were at work, as a mighty drama of nature, and without even dreaming of the mischances that had happened to us, until I sent for them to assist in preparing for the quickly-approaching night. For several more days we fished and dug for our things. Some things were lost, many were spoilt; the greater part of all the things that were not locked up inside chests or trunks bore at least more or fewer marks of this flood. After all, there was nothing of much importance lost; I had first secured the great portfolios, together with my manuscripts and books; in short, after a few days the whole thing took the form of a remarkable picture, leaving no unpleasant reminiscence, and of which I should grudge my memory the loss.
Since then, we have suffered much from violent gales, that occasionally so fill the atmosphere with sand that respiration is rendered difficult, painting with colours is totally precluded, and drawing and writing paper is continually covered with a most disagreeable, ever-renewed dust. This fine sand penetrates one’s clothes, enters all our boxes, even when most closely shut, fills one’s nose, ears, hair, and is the unavoidable pepper to every dish and drink.
January 5. On the evening of the first Christmas holiday, I surprised my companions by a large bonfire, which I had lighted at the top of the greatest pyramid. The flame shone magnificently upon the two other pyramids, as well as on the Necropolis, and threw its light far over the dale to Cairo. That was a Christmas pyramid! I had only confided the secret to Abeken, who had arrived, with his ever merry humour and his animated and instructive conversation, upon the 10th of December. With his assistance I prepared something for the following night, in the Royal Chamber of the Great Pyramid. We planted a young palm-tree in the sarcophagus of the ancient king, and adorned it with lights and little presents that I had sent for from the city for us children of the wilderness. Saint Sylvester also must receive due honour. On New Year’s eve, at midnight, there arose mighty flames from the heights of the three great pyramids, and announced, far and wide in the regions of Islâm, at their feet, the change of the Christian year.[12]
I consider it a proper mental diet for our company to break and interrupt our laborious, and, for the artists, very monotonous occupations, not only by the hebdomadal rest of Sunday, but also by pleasant parties of pleasure and gay festivals, as often as opportunity will admit. As yet, the harmony and good humour of our society have not been disturbed by the slightest echo of discord; and they gain new strength every day, as well by the fulness of our novel impressions and the reciprocal tastes and natures of our companions, as by the obstacles and hardships of this Bedouin life.
How manifold the elements of our community are, you may perceive by the true Babel of languages in which we are ever moving. The English language is sufficiently represented by our companions, Wild and Bonomi; French and Italian serve as a medium of communication with the authorities, our chance guests, and the Levantine merchants; in Arabic we command, eat, and travel; and in very capital German we consult, chatter, sing, and live. As long as it is day we are generally each alone, and uninterruptedly at work. The morning coffee is drunk before sunrise; after sunset, dinner is served; and we breakfast while at work. Thus our artists have been already enabled to prepare a hundred great folio leaves, partly executed in lead, partly finished off in colours, for our swelling portfolios.
LETTER V.
Pyramids of Gizeh.
January 17, 1843.
The inscription composed in commemoration of the birthday festival of His Majesty has become a stone tablet, after the manner of the ancient steles and proscynemata. Here it is:—
