William Arnold Bromfield
On Board the Mary Victoria Nile Boat, Between Guineh and Girzeh, Upper Egypt, May 12th, 1851.
Dear E
We continue slowly but steadily advancing towards the Egyptian capital, having left Assouan, the most southerly frontier town of this country, on the first of this month. Our progress has been delayed by the necessary stoppages at that, and the other considerable towns along the river, for the purpose of recruiting our nearly exhausted supplies of rice, sugar, coffee, &c, as also to visit our good friends the Fox's at Ernout, and take a farewell view of Luxor, Karnac, and other lions, and finish the campaign by visiting the few that yet remained unseen by us.
The weather since leaving Assouan has not increased in heat, the wind still keeping to some northerly point, with no appearance at present of the regular and much dreaded Khamseen from the southward. It is nevertheless quite as warm as is agreeable, and rather more so during the middle of the day. By ten o'clock the thermometer lias attained 90° or 95°, when it continues rising very slowly but regularly till one or two p.m. at which time it has stood froin 98° to 103° for some weeks past, remaining at or near that point till four or five p.m. when the heat declines, and during the evening falls to 90° or a little lower; in the early morning the mercury has usually descended to 84° or 85°, which is now to our feelings a delightfully cool and refreshing temperature. Although the heat is not at this time of the year so great here as in the upper part of the valley of the Nile at Dongola, Berber, and especially on the desert, it is more felt in Upper Egypt than in Nubia, as the air begins though slightly, to participate in the moisture of the Mediterranean to the northward, in addition to the natural evaporation from the great river on which we are afloat; and as water does not part, by radiation, with the heat it has received from the sun during the day, at all as readily as the bare sand does, the nights on board are much hotter than on shore, where we should therefore encamp every evening for coolness, could we escape molestation from mosquitoes, and also from the dogs and natives. We have moreover exchanged the dark primitive granite rocks above Assouan, for the newer white limestone of the Theban mountains, whose bare craggy sides glow like the walls of a furnace in the fierce glare of the noontide sun, and send back the north wind in stifling puffs, causing ever and anon huge columns of sand to move in dark vortices across the country, and towering to a vast height in the air like pillars of smoke from the crater of a volcano, their summits expanding into a cone of a pale yellow, which gradually deepens to a dark dun red or brown near the earth, according to their position with regard to the sun. When at Philae on the 30th of April, we experienced a strong sand-storm, which filled the air with impalpable dust mingled with coarse sand, and gave the landscape the appearance of being enveloped in fog; the sky at the same time was covered with dark angry looking clouds, from which fell a few heat drops, the utmost effort to produce anything like a refreshing shower of which this parched climate is capable; excepting at very distant intervals indeed, when a deluge of rain occasionally pours down on the Thebaid and Lower Nubia for a day or two.
When crossing the great desert of Korosko we had, on a close calm cloudy night, several vivid flashes of sheet lightning, but neither thunder nor rain accompanied these silent and innocent coruscations. I may remark that falling stars are extremely common, and remarkably large and brilliant in the clear nights of Nubia and Egypt: we saw several in our desert wanderings of startling size and splendour traverse a considerable space in the heavens with extreme velocity, and then disappear without noise.
The most serious inconvenience we experience from this torrid weather, is the great difficulty of keeping one of our staple articles of diet, milk, for a few hours, by boiling and preserving it in a vessel wrapped in wet cloths, and placed in the coolest part of the boat. As we cannot always procure fresh milk at this season from the herdsmen and villagers on shore, we are often deprived of it altogether, our stock taken on board in the morning becoming unfit for use before dinner time; and the evening supply is often precarious. Our way of procuring it in the wilds of the upper country above Dongola &c, by chasing the goats to milk them when the owners were not at hand to do so for us, w^ould amuse you in the recital.
We found our good friends Mr. and Mrs. Fox (the first English faces we have seen for months), at Ernout, quite well, and the immense sugar works belonging to Mustapha Bey, a minor, rapidly progressing towards completion: already the huge chimneys of the engine and boiling houses have risen within sight of the pylons, obelisks, and colossal pillars of Luxor and Karnac, which they far overtop in height, if they do not rival them in beauty and celebrity. This hospitable pair wished us to stop some days at the works, the machinery for which, on a scale of great magnitude, is all from England, and is erected here by native workmen from Cairo, under the sole instruction and superintendence of Mr. Fox.
I saw there one living, and several dead specimens of the terrific scorpion spider or galleode of Egypt and the adjacent countries; the latter were found drowned in a large tank for supplying the engines; the former was captured in the house by Mr. Fox. The outstretched legs of the largest specimen measured about eight inches in the span. The general aspect of this hideous animal, is that of a gigantic spider, w T hich it resembles in the great length of its hairy legs, the oblong livid body, jointed like that ot the scorpion, is destitute ot any sting, instead of which the head is furnished with a formidable pair of sharp and very prominent pincers, capable of inflicting an extremely painful, though I believe not very venomous bite. It is a nocturnal animal, frequenting out-houses, and deserted apartments, running with incredible speed, and fearlessly attacking any object that is opposed to it. Mr. Fox's Arab servant hearing a mouse squeaking in the room one night as if in distress, was induced to ascertain the cause, when he found one of these galleodes had fastened upon it, but whether with the intention of making the mouse its prey, or from accidental offence given by the latter, Mr. Fox could not say. The natives regard its bite as not dangerous, and rather encourage it, as a noted destroyer of its first cousins, the scorpions. I have several of the above specimens (including the largest) in spirits, which I hope to send home with my plants &c. from Alexandria .
We bade adieu to Ernout on the 7 th May at 10 p.m. and rose at dawn the next morning to visit the ruins of Medinet Habou; the two Colossi (one of which is the famous supposed statue of Memnon); the temple, (or perhaps palace) of Rameses II. called the Memnonium; and lastly, the tombs of the kings; but the latter, we were obliged to postpone till the following day (9th) on account of the increasing morning heat after 9 or 10 o'clock.
The first of these remains, the temple of Medinet Habou, is situated near the foot of the limestone range, as are likewise the Colossi and Memnonium, all three being within half or three quarters of an hour's ride of each other. The remains of Medinet Habou, are imposing, and very extensive, but belong to different epochs; and like many other Egyptian ruins are sadly encumbered with heaps of rubbish, mounds, and paltry hovels of crude brick, in which they are half buried, and their proportions concealed or destroyed. Although certainly possessing much grandeur, these ruins are not of a character to strike the non-antiquarian visitor as do the magnificent temples of Dendereh, Esneh, Edfou, and Abou Simbal (Ipsambul), all of which are also in a more perfect state.
The great temple-palace of Rameses II. commonly known as the Rameseum or Memnonium, must have been when entire, a magnificent structure, and even in its present shattered and razed condition, it may lay claim to that character, and is less encumbered than most of the Egyptian temples with Roman, Christian, or Arab dwellings of hideous unburnt brick. But the most remarkable object in the Memnonium, is the stupendous statue of Rameses II. the founder; unquestionably the most gigantic of ancient or modern times. This now prostrate and shattered colossus is of grey syenitic granite; I find no account of its height when entire; but Sir Gr. Wilkinson gives its estimated weight at 887 tons. I must say however that viewed as it now lies, the proportions of the statue convey but an indifferent idea of the artistic skill of the sculptor; to myself, it appeared a sadly coarse and clumsy piece of workmanship both in design and execution; but if originally of a single piece, as really seems to have been the case, its transportation from the very distant quarry to its temple abode, reflects great credit either on the patience, or the engineering skill of the ancient Egyptians, I do not know which; but I believe the praise should be equally awarded to both.
The two ill-shaped, stiff, and much mutilated sitting statues, one of which has acquired such world wide notoriety as the vocal Memnon, are rather objects of wonder for their magnitude, than of admiration for their beauty; and except that they possessed nothing of the same life and spirit, they put me greatly in mind of two figures of Tarn O'Shanter and Souter John which I recollect to have seen many years ago in London, the production of the self taught Scottish artist, Thorns, who was justly admired for his talented conception of the heroes of Burns' s tale. Poor Memnon, in particular, has been sadly knocked about since his singing days were over; and has been so clumsily repaired above the waist with unshapely blocks of sandstone (which is not the material of which the rest of his person is composed), as to look more like the fragment of an old wall, than a delineation in stone of the human form divine. In the huge lap of this statue, which is only accessible, by climbing, to persons gifted with a stronger head than mine, is a stone which emits a ringing sound when struck, and behind this is a cavity in which Sir G. Wilkinson thinks a person was in the habit of concealing himself, in order to produce the sound attributed by superstitious belief to the rays of the sun impinging on the figure at his rising, or as Sir G. Wilkinson states, an hour or two afterwards. One of our donkey boys climbed into the lap, and struck the stone repeatedly; but with all my desire to hear what I was prepared to listen to, a deep, sonorous, bell like tone, I could only distinguish a dull tinkling like that which any mason's trowel would elicit from an ordinary block of marble or freestone. The feet and throne of the so-called Memnon, (through confusion of names with the Egyptian Miamun), are covered with inscriptions, chiefly Greek, of great antiquity. The fellow statue is in better preservation, though of less celebrity, but the faces of both are so disfigured, that the features are scarcely traceable.
The next morning at dawn we again started for the tombs of the Kings, attended by two servants, a guide with candles, our donkey boys, and some half dozen little fellows bearing gullahs, or porous earthern bottles filled with water; to the mouths of which ever and anon, we were glad to apply our parched lips. These famous grottos are excavated in the most solitary and intricate recesses of the Theban mountains. After quitting the plain, the way leads through winding defiles between hills and rocks of white limestone, and coarse conglomerate, the former extremely white, and approaching very nearly in hardness and appearance to the indurated chalk of our own country. Not a tree, shrub, or blade of grass finds a habitation upon these bare and sunburnt mountains, on which a drop of water from heaven either as rain or dew rarely falls, save only the transient devastating floods of sub-tropical storms. J ackals, wolves, and hyenas are the inhabitants; birds are few; but Mr. Pengelly brought down at one shot, a pair of magnificent horned owls, of great size, and with most formidable beaks and talons.
The distance from our moorings on the western or Lybian side of the Nile opposite Luxor to these tombs, is about six miles. Their number is very considerable, but since their general plan, sculptures, and painting, are much the same in all, and so minute a survey could only interest the professed and zealous antiquary, we contented ourselves with viewing those marked by Sir G. Wilkinson on the face of their respective entrances Nos. 9, 11, 17, called the tomfcs of Memnon (Miamun Rameses V.) Brace's or the Harper's, and Belzoni's tomb. These grottos lie scattered about in the sides of hills at irregular distances; the entrances are by unadorned rectangular openings, and the passage for some distance is always descending, and sometimes very steep, thickly strewed with fragments of the rock, beyond which, the tombs present an extraordinary collection of passages, halls, and chambers, elaborately adorned with sculptures and paintings, in endless variety and in endless repetition.
A dispassionate view of Egyptian art, such as I have now had an opportunity of taking, in regard to its chief and most elaborate monuments, has led me to the conviction that with much that is worthy of the highest admiration, there is a vast deal that is not merely below mediocrity, but absolutely poor and paltry to the last degree, all strangely co-existing in the same edifice or excavation, and made the more conspicuous by the sharpness of the contrast. I have often been astonished and delighted by the gracefulness, elegance, and admirable execution of the sculptures in the various temples, tombs and pyramids, as at Napata and Meroe, which I have visited: and have been grieved as much to see the miserable scratches or scores intended to represent similar objects, that most frequently were to be found defacing the very walls on which such fine skill and taste were displayed. An extraordinary inequality of design and execution seems the prevailing characteristic of Egyptian sculpture and architecture. As for the paintings in the tombs, and on the roofs and ceilings of the temples, I must confess that with very few exceptions indeed, I never saw any that, to my eye, looked superior to vile daubs, such as a countrysign painter might feel ashamed to have executed. Some of the figures of men and animals in processions &c. are tolerably pourtrayed, chiefly in their peculia subdued red, or Etruscan vase colour; but wheneve they attempt flowers, fruit, foliage, a scroll, or an complicated object required strong shading or relief, I have seen nothing but utter failure, — flat, gaudy, ungraceful designs. I know it is the fashion in England to talk of the extraordinary brilliancy and durability of these colours, as being inimitable in these degenerate days, by the loss of the mode of their preparation, one of the pretended secrets of ancient art; but this assertion, I have learnt to class with the customary ravings about Eastern skies, sunlights, shadows, moons, flowers, and fruits. I do not deny that the colours in the tombs and temples of Egypt have stood well, and retained most, if not the whole, of their original brilliancy (such as it was) through the lapse of many centuries; but I beg to observe that this holds true only in those edifices or excavations which have been hermetically sealed by the artificial closing up of the entrance, or by accumulation over them of the sands of the desert. From the more exposed buildings the painting has been either wholly effaced by the weather, or, as at Esneh and Edfou, some of the capitals of the columns retain mere traces of a disagreeable verdigris green: the dark blue studded with stars on the ceilings of some of these structures, as at Dendereh, has stood better, but even that is in a great degree blotched and obscured by age, and by the damp of the river.
The Egyptians knew nothing of oil paints, and all their water colours that I have seen on the stucco or stone of their walls, whether in tombs or temples, have an opaque, earthy, or (what I believe artists call) muddy appearance, which argues no great skill or knowledge of the materials best adapted for yielding bright clear colours, similiar to those furnished by substances which modern chemistry has brought to hVht, and made subservient to modern art. Analysis indeed has proved that the water colours used by the ancient Egyptians for the decoration of their temples, were obtained from substances identical with those that yield the cheapest and most ordinary hues to the house painters of modern days, as yellow and red ochre, verdigris, lamp black, &c. Our brilliant smalt, chrome yellow, Prussian blue, and other modern pigments of varied intensity, were to them unknown. Indigo, they were doubtless acquainted with; this has, I believe, been demonstrated by chemical analysis of some of their colours from the tombs and temples; several species of indigo I found abundant in the southern deserts, and along the banks of the Nile; and one native species, Indigofera argentea, is to this day universally used in Egypt for dying the common blue cloth of the country.
The effect of the colouring in the tombs of the Kings is much injured by the often tasteless disposition of the various hues in parallel lines or stripes along the walls, the interstices between the stripes being crowded with vilely daubed hieroglyphics, mixed with grotesque figures, and every monstrous combination of living forms, that a depraved ingenuity could suggest to the artist. All harmonious blending or contrast of colours seems to have been generally overlooked, or disregarded in the sepulchral decorations of the Egyptians; green, red, blue, black, and yellow, are mixed, or laid on in close contact upon the stuccoed walls and roof, with the garish brush of a painter of children's toys, rather than with the sober and chastened pencil of a genuine artist. Yet, amidst this mass of confused figures, gaudy tints, and rude designs, there is a great deal worthy of admiration in these receptacles of the royal dead, figures traced with vast freedom and grace occasionally meet the eye, which causes the more regret to see them associated with so much that is poor and mean. The noble halls covered with sculptures and hieroglyphics, are wonderfully imposing from their fine size and proportions, as well as from the interest attaching to them on account of their high antiquity, and as depicting the manners and customs of the times in which they were constructed.
The walls of this vast Necropolis bear witness to the presence within them of the great and illustrious as well as of the little and vain of every age and clime: we read the names of most of the celebrated explorers of Egyptian antiquities, Belzoni, Irby, and Mangles, Burckhard, and if I recollect right, of Champollion, and of others of the French savans. Amongst those of the more renowned but unlettered visitors to these sepulchral chambers, we read the names of Mohammed Ali in Arabic and European characters. We were greatly amused at the very uncomplimentary remarks and addresses inscribed on the walls of the first tomb we explored (No. 17, or that of Memnon so called), to Dr. Lepsius, a celebrated living antiquary of Germany, deprecating his appropriation of choice morsels of sculpture and hieroglyphics which he had detached from the wall, and carried away on a late archaeological razzia amongst these venerable remains of by-gone times. We were however indebted to this same Teutonic rifler of tombs, for our acquaintance with an exquisite little sepulchral grot, which he had the good fortune to light upon and dis-inter last year I believe, and throw open to the inspection of travellers like ourselves.
The heat within the tombs of the kings was not nearly so great as I had anticipated, and the walls and roofs had the appearance of the most parching dryness i nevertheless the paintings in the tomb we first visited had suffered as it is said from the percolation through the absorbent limestone-rock of those violent floods which even visit the burnt-up hills of the Thebaid at distant, but uncertain periods.
On quitting the tombs of the kings, we arrived in the plain by another and shorter route, passing by a very steep path across the highest peaks of the Theban mountains, and then descending precipitously their eastern escarpment, right glad to have done so at the expence of a toilsome clamber in the now burning sun on foot as far as the summit, our donkeys following us as best they might. The view was glorious, the vast plain of Thebes on our right, mapped out with the ruins of Medinet Abou, Karnak, the Colossi, the Memnonium, &c, on the left the winding and sparkling river, on the furthest banks of which, the eye ranged over Luxor, Karnak, and the great plain beyond, bounded by a rampart of limestone like that from which we were looking down, and beholding the vast ruins reduced to the size of models under our feet. On our way down we passed the village and grottos of Assaseef, in one of which, during our occupation of its friendly shelter from the scorching sun, while we discussed a large bowl of goat's milk, I noticed some beautifully designed and finely executed sculpture, of some of which I caused impressions to be taken on coarse paper, by a native of the place who had acquired the art from Dr. Lepsius, and, for a piastre a sheet, performed the task very fairly, though on the whole rather unequally.
Towards sunset of the 9th (having crossed over and moored our bark to the shore at Luxor during the day), we started on donkeys to take a second and farewell view of the ruins at that place, and, acting on the advice given me by Mrs. H. at Assouan, to pay our visit to the latter by moonlight. Arriving at Karnak just before the sun went down, and passing the noble, and still nearly perfect propylon that stands at the entrance to the ruins from Luxor, we mounted immediately behind that magnificent gateway to the roof of the temple which is formed by huge blocks laid across from column to column, and formerly united as in modern structures by iron clamps and lead. From this elevated position we sat enjoying a fine view of the great temple, the obelisks, and other ruins, collectively known as those of Karnak, whilst our trusty little Nubian Mohammed kindled a charcoal fire by our side, in the deep groove formed between two disjointed colossal blocks, which made an excellent grate, on which our tea kettle was merrily singing, and enabled us to continue leisurely sipping our tea, and chatting till twilight had vanished entirely from the western horizon, and had given place to that of the moon, then at the end of her first quarter, when we descended, and made the best of our way to the vast mass of ruins still in front of us. The effect on entering the grand hall, amid the forest of colossal pillars, which once supported as massive a roof, was quite what Mrs. H. had described to me — it was awfully grand, almost unearthly. The night was clear (and it is very rarely indeed otherwise in Upper Egypt), but a few fleecy clouds occasionally psssed across the moon, which being only half way to the full, threw a more solemn, dusky, and delusive shadow, than if she had been shining in perfect glory. Every part of the vast pile seemed magnified, whilst all its architectural defects were effectually concealed; nothing but the gigantic outlines of the serried ranks of tower-like columns were visible, half buried in black shade, half revealed in pale uncertain light; some few, leaning towards one another, with an alarming inclination, seemed actually to be toppling over as the few thin clouds, flying before the moon, apparently transmitted their own motion to these Titanean masses, many of which are crowned in addition to their vast capital with enormous blocks, which some mighty agency has strangely thrown into every imaginable position of threatening danger to such as explore this wonderful temple. Some of these architraves are actually hanging in mid air, totally unsupported except by a small part of their imbedded extremity, the unsupported end lowered to an angle, sometimes nearly approaching the perpendicular: yet this mighty weight hangs still, and doubtless has done so for ages. The two noble granite obelisks of one solid block, that still adorn Karnak, shew to admirable advantage by moonlight, and the same remark may be with truth extended to every part of the ruins, of which I would not for the world have missed taking the view by night.
The aspect of Karnak by day, I still think undeserving the extravagantly high flown encomiums of antiquaries, and picturesque-hunting travellers and artists. With a vast deal that is poor, tasteless, and barbarous in design and execution, there is still very much amongst these remains to call forth feelings of admiration at their sublimity, and no one can reasonably doubt that in the days of their entirety, the general effect of this vast group of edifices must have been splendid beyond belief. I find fault only with that class of prepossessed travellers who can see nothing but perfection (often purely imaginary) in such ancient relics; overlooking or denying the most obvious and glaring defects, or even setting them down, as so many positive beauties.
The ruins of Karnak abound in scorpions; and a small, dirty, but picturesque village bearing the name of the temple, occupies the space in front of the grand entrance to the ruins, but happily has not yet encroached upon any part of the latter, as is the case at Edfou and Esneh, where the miserable hovels of the fellahs are crowded together on the very roofs of these fanes, as if upon a solid rock. We had a pleasant ride home by moonlight to our boat at Luxor; and on arriving there, we immediately cast loose from the shore, and dropped down the river on our return voyage to Cairo.
Sunrise on the morning of the 10th found me trotting over the halfeh-grass-covered-plain on a gallant Egyptian neddy, bent on paying my respects once more to the truly magnificent temple of Dendereh; I had only with me our late friend Mr. Lakes' Arab servant, Ahmeed. I had another object in again stopping at Dendereh, namely, to procure a cluster of the fruit of the Doum Palm for the Botanical Museum at Kew, agreeably to a request from Sir William Hooker that I would do so if possible. In this I have fully succeeded, and so, whilst the villagers were engaged in cutting me off a proper sized cluster from the forest of this palm which adorns the approach to the temple from the river, I pushed on for the latter, returning with rather increased than diminished admiration of so beautiful, and elaborately-adorned a structure. The profusion of sculptures and hieroglyphics finely executed in relief and in vast square panels, with which the walls are absolutely covered, has an extraordinarily rich effect, greatly superior to the same sculptures and emblematic writing in intaglio. The air was delightfully cool and fresh, like that of a May morning at home, and this cool character the mornings have hitherto preserved since we left Khartoun, but the earlier part of the nights is now sultry, although quite pleasant after two or three o'clock a.m. So rapid is the dissipation of heat by nocturnal radiation in this unclouded clime, that the languid enervated Africans are secure of a few hours before and after sun-rise of sufficiently low temperature to brace their unstrung frames, at nearly, if not at all times of the year; and in winter, the mornings are cold enough to make a European, much more a native, shiver, even far within the tropics.
Siout, or Assiout, Upper Egypt, May 18th. Continued northerly winds, and (so unlike their former selves), a lazy apathetic crew, whom neither threats nor persuasion can induce to pull at the oars lustily, unite to render our return voyage down the Nile, a very tedious one: we having been already eighteen days from Assouan, with a prospect before us of not being at Cairo before the end of the month at our present rate of going. We are the more desirous of reaching Cairo speedily, as my fellow traveller's health is suffering materially from the heat, and he is complaining of daily increasing languor and debility. Sir G. Wilkinson tells us that from April to October favourable winds for ascending the Nile are not to be expected, the prevailing ones during that season being from some southerly quarter, or in other words down the river. Hitherto however, the wind has constantly come from the north, and so far has fulfilled the assertion of Sir (jr. Wilkinson, of being unfavourable | but in our case, for precisely the reverse of the reason he gives, since we are on our return from, and not on our passage to Upper Egypt, and should in truth expect to have the wind in our favour coming down. Mr. Pengelly tells me that his former experience of the weather during summer in Egypt is in accordance with the present, that northerly winds have ever been more general than southerly, and from the account of many persons with whom I have spoken on the subject, these would seem to preponderate greatly over breezes from other quarters throughout the year.
This northerly wind, however, has the advantage of keeping the temperature lower than a southerly one, but its breezes are still very hot, and impart no feeling of freshness as they pass over us, we therefore exclude them and the sun together, by keeping the Venetian blinds of our boat shut during the middle of the day. We would gladly put up with a higher temperature in being blown merrily down to Cairo by a red hot Khamseen wind in preference to our present slow progress with a comparatively cool one perpetually against us. The temperature continues pretty steady, neither increasing nor diminishing in any material degree; and its distribution through the twenty-four hours may be thus stated. Between sunrise and eight a.m. from 80° — 85°, by ten a.m. it has generally reached 90°, from which time it continues slowly rising till one or two p.m. being at noon 98° — 100°, and two p.m. 102°, continuing at this point till at or near sunset, when it sinks slowly to 90° or 92°, which is the usual height of the thermometer at midnight; from this time the mercury gradually falls to between 80° and 70°, the ordinary heat just before sunrise. But some abatement of the mid-day heat both in intensity and duration, is beginning to manifest itself as we advance northwards, and, gaining a flatter and more open country, leave the narrower part of the Nile valley behind us shut in by the bare heated limestone mountains of the Thebaid, the hot blasts of which we are beginning to exchange for cool currents of air from the Mediterranean. The temperatures given above are taken on board in the cabin with as much attention to keeping that place cool as possible. For six weeks or two months past, the thermometer has, I believe, hardly ever been below 100° at noon, sometimes several degrees above that point: but within these few days, it has not been so high until an hour or two after the sun has passed the meridian. In spite of being thus exposed during twenty out of the twenty-four hours to a heat of 90° — 102°, and sleeping under close drawn mosquito curtains of fine muslin, I am perfectly well in health, and suffer no other inconvenience from the inordinate temperature than frequent thirst, and some loss of what little adipose covering I possess by nature: this is certainly not the weather for any one to grow stout in, however much disposed thereto by constitution.
Minieh May 24th. We arrived here
For the last two days the sky has been partly overcast with tolerably thick clouds, a thing rarely seen even so low down as this town is in latitude 28°, and still seldomer higher up. I cannot understand why it is the custom for English travellers to speak in such raptures of the transparent azure of the Egyptian sky, and of its unrivalled brilliancy: to my vision, it has always, excepting at particular moments, shewn itself as strikingly deficient in both these attributes. The sky of Egypt is certainly deserving enough of praise in so far as the absence of clouds is concerned, although it is not seldom that it is wrapped in a veil of dull, thin vapour, especially towards evening, when the sunsets are frequently extremely tame, hazy, and colourless. I have studied the phases of the African sky with great attention for eight months, and can confidently assert that brilliancy and transparency are not its habitual every day attributes. A white, milky, or whey-like opacity, is the almost constant characteristic of the heavens in the land of the Pharoahs, and thence southward into the tropical regions of Nubia and Abyssinia; becoming more and more marked, as the summer or warm season advances; the sky assuming a more diaphanous aspect in the winter, or at least in the cooler season. In general the nights are clearer than the days, and the star-light is often extremely brilliant, but not more so I am sure, than on many a fine winter's night in England; and frequently the night sky is as nebulous, or nearly so, as the day, and a dim lustreless star-light, which people at home are apt to suppose is unknown in these southern climes, is all the traveller enjoys on his nocturnal journeyings for his guidance. I might say that the sky of Egypt (including that of Nubia to the termination of the valley of the Nile at Khartoun), is but in keeping with the land and its products, over which its arch is hung; a sunlit, and sunburnt, region of colourless, or rather sadness-tinted landscapes, with little contrast of light and shade; the very verdure of its scanty and monotonous native vegetation 5 greyish, and unrefreshing to the eye; the animals, birds, reptiles, and insects, seldom arrayed in any but the plainest garb, in which like that of the people themselves and their earthen habitations, some shades of brown are the prevailing hue; the uniformity of which is only broken by the occasional passage across the expanse of a few clouds too transparent and colourless to give tone and richness to the firmament. I have seen beautiful sun-sets (and on my desert travels), fine sun-rises too; but the gorgeous tints that accompany them in climates of greater humidity, are but their occasional concomitants in this arid region; and I have remarked that whilst the sun usually rises from an unclouded horizon, his setting is often obscured by a dull haze.
Always, my dear E., Your affectionate Brother, William Arnold Bromfield.