Having made the round of the place, and tasted the waters of its wells, I was not sorry to return to sunlight, and again to breathe a less stifling atmosphere. We now turned eastward, and crossed a space surrounded by houses and containing some booths for the market which is held here during the date season; the space is called Sebucha (سبوخه). We then entered a very pretty grove of palm-trees, dotted with the summer residences of the wealthier inhabitants, and thence in five minutes reached the small town of Menshich (منشيه), built on level ground, and for the most part in ruins. It was then completely deserted, all the inhabitants having, on the approach of the soldiers, removed into Siwah.
Excepting the foundations of some of the houses on the Gara, the western extremity of the town, in which I was lodged (where a layer or two of masonry or cuttings in the rock may sometimes be remarked), I saw no traces of antiquity in any of the buildings, but, as of old, the houses are built with blocks of rock salt, sometimes almost pure, cemented together with mud. From the dryness of the climate this kind of wall is perfectly solid, and will even resist artillery, the ball driving in only so much of the material as will give it a passage. The reader must not, however, imagine that the buildings of Siwah display the glittering appearance which the fairy-like palaces in some of the German salt-mines present. To the eye nothing is apparent but the mud with which they are plastered, and they most prosaically resemble the rudest village structures in Egypt.
The only excursion in the neighbourhood which I could make was to Beled er-Roum, of whose ruins, and the treasures concealed in them, I had heard extraordinary accounts from the natives. It lies nearly north by north-west from Siwah, the road leading over a causeway, built, I believe, by a former governor, across the salt lake which bounds Siwah on this side. The water is shallow, and from the film of crystallised salt which covers it to a considerable distance, it has the appearance of being frozen. Passing through groves of palms and olives, we came in an hour and a half to a large mass of shapeless ruins, built of sandstone and salt, called Dāhĭba. An hour further through hills, all of them containing cave-tombs, brought us to Beled er-Roum. We first came upon a collection of small ruins, built of unburnt bricks, in one of which are two well-turned vaults. In the rocks close to them are some well-executed tombs, and I am inclined to ascribe a similar use to these buildings, which may date from about the second century; the people call them the houses of the infidels. A little further on are the ruins of the temple, which, with a disposition resembling the Egyptian, is of almost pure Doric architecture, without a trace of hieroglyphics, and the stones of which it is built are only two feet six inches by one foot. The cornice of the sanctuary, or furthest apartment, is composed of four flutings; that of the exterior room is one very large curve, whose outline is completely Doric. There remain now portions of only three rooms. The inner one, with two small windows, is sixteen feet five inches in breadth by fifteen feet six inches long. The centre room, with the same breadth, is only eight feet six inches long; and the exterior one, now in great part ruined, is fifteen feet eight inches long. Their height is eighteen feet seven inches. The roof of the inner compartment has fallen, and its masses encumber the sanctuary; of that of the second chamber there still remain four immense stones, stretching from wall to wall, like that of Omm Beida. The sanctuary is entered by a large doorway with pilasters, and the space is narrowed by short square pillars, with very broad capitals, which almost touch, so that the passage left is only broad enough for one person, while above there is formed by the summit of the capitols, a sort of window cut off the height of the door. In front, and in a line with the remaining building, extends a long substructure, the foundation of the remainder of the temple, which seems to have three times exceeded the fragment which is preserved, and about thirty yards further on is an extensive vaulted subterranean, running at right angles to the line of the temple.
All these buildings undergo continual dilapidations through the researches of the treasure-seekers; and it is probable that, at no distant date, this temple will in this manner be entirely destroyed; for it unfortunately happens that treasure, enclosed in a box of obir-wood, is supposed to exist somewhere within the stones which form the roof. I was shown a Moghraby manuscript, containing detailed directions where to seek for treasures, and stating of what they consisted.
Other antiquities exist in places round Siwah, their distance varying from six hours to two days; but I was kept in such uncertainty as to the time when we were to leave, and I was so unwilling to take the responsibility of detaining the troops, that I gave up my intention of visiting them. Mummies are not unfrequently found in subterranean repositories built in the sand of a Hattyeh five hours distant to the west; and in these graves glass or earthenware vessels are sometimes discovered. There is a place called Dogha (دوغه), a day and a half to the east, never visited by the Siwy, of which I heard from a man who had reached it in tracking some lost camels. He said that there was there a temple like that of Omm Beida, in front of which were rows of warriors on horseback, cut in stone. These may, not impossibly, be sphinxes. He further told me that the earth in this Hattyeh is black, with a strong smell of sulphur when thrown on the fire. I should be inclined to suppose this may be a sulphate of some metal; the more so, that the Gibely told me a man had brought, he knew not from where, a handful of similar earth, which, when exposed to the heat of a furnace, left a button of a white metal in the bottom of the crucible. I think it is Caillaud who speaks of sulphur mines in Siwah; but though the hot springs and occasional earthquakes are a proof of volcanic action in this neighbourhood, no one I spoke with had any knowledge of the existence of either yellow or white sulphur.
At Beled er-Roum I spent an hour in the orchard of one of my friends; and in vain attempted to put this time to profit by learning the distinguishing marks of the different kinds of date-trees. It requires a very practised eye to discover the different varieties when not in fruit; the stems and leaves are so similar in all, that my guide was unable to point out the marks by which one is known from the other. The Siwah dates are of four kinds:—the waddy وُدي, used for feeding cattle; the s’aïdy سعيدي, which, with water, are pressed into a cake; the gh’azaly غزالي, a long brown date; and, lastly, the most highly prized, the farechy فَِراخي, whose fruit is short, nearly white, and crisp, as if candied.[11]
This day there blew a violent chamsin wind, which raised clouds of sand, rendering it almost impossible for any one to see a few yards ahead, and against which spectacles were no protection. Nothing would have tempted me to brave it but the necessity of being ready to start on the following day. On my return, I announced to the Commandant that I had completed my tour of the antiquities; and would detain him no longer. My eyes and skin were still smarting from exposure to the wind; and I was, perhaps, a little annoyed when he answered that, Inshallah! we should start the day after to-morrow. But that day was Tuesday, a bad day for starting; the next, Wednesday, was still more unlucky; therefore, on Thursday, we were positively to go; and, early in the morning of that day, almost before dawn, came an officer to see if I were ready. By this time, I had learned a lesson in punctuality, and did not hurry myself; but by eight, my camels were being loaded, under the superintendence of one of the Buluk-bashis, who seemed now to think every five minutes of value. I knew that the eighty water-skins had not yet been filled, and looked forward to a departure late in the afternoon as the most that could be hoped for; but when at last, being fairly turned out of my house, I took refuge at the castle, I found there was to be a fresh palaver on the subject of the prisoners. I was now thoroughly tired of the question; and, like Falstaff, I was somewhat ashamed of the ragged regiment who were to be carried in my suite, so I told Hassan Aga he might do as he pleased on his own responsibility; whereupon, he took from them a written engagement to present themselves, one and all, at Cairo on that day month. I held my peace till all was done, and they were dismissed; after which I drily said to him, “I have no hand in the matter; not one of them will come.” And the event proved that I was right.
It was now too late in the day to think of starting; and, having made up my mind to preserve my good-humour, at least, as far as the Egyptian frontier, I adjourned with Hassan to the front of the castle, where a carpet was spread, and the officers, old and young, joined by several of the men, gave us the amusement of a game of the Jerid. I had never before seen this really graceful exercise; but it has been so often described that I refrain from speaking of it.