DER EL-BAHRI—(continued)
FROM the middle of January till the beginning of March not a day went by but some parties of visitors passed through Der el-Bahri to see Hatshepsu’s temple. They usually went to the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings first, and then crossing over the mountain which separated us from that valley, we would see them defiling down the steep incline which leads to Cook’s rest-house. After lunch the guide would rush them through Hatshepsu’s shrine, and then start them off to see the tombs of Sheykh Abd-el-Gurna; the Ramesseum would then be visited, and with hardly a pause for breath every one would remount their donkeys or get into their litters to be rushed off to Medinet Habu. The Valley of the Tombs of the Queens might then be visited, and a long ride, with a short halt at the Colossi of Memnon, would take them to the Nile, to be crossed after sunset, before the Luxor hotels could be reached.
I have no doubt that most of these good people were thankful when so fatiguing a day was well over, and vowed that no power on earth would ever induce them to go through it again. A week would barely suffice to get more than a cursory glance of all the195 sights which are crowded into this one long day. The following day is usually devoted to ‘doing’ the Luxor temple, and being rushed through the ruins of Karnak. These people who do their sights at such a giddy speed usually take part in a tour up the Nile organised by some travelling agency. A few well-advised ones remain at Luxor till the steam dahabieh, which has taken them so far, picks them up on its return trip from Assuan. This gives them time to see at their ease that which the ill-advised ones had merely been rushed through.
It was amusing, after some months of solitude, to see my fellow-creatures again, but before the tourist season was over I longed to get back to the usual quietude of our valley. The trippers would arrive in batches of from one to two hundred, and add to this an equal number of donkeys and their drivers—Der el-Bahri on those occasions became a veritable pandemonium. Fortunately they generally swept down on us at about the same hour of the day—in time to lunch at the rest-house opposite my hut; by three o’clock they were driven off, by the guide in charge of the party, to see the Ramesseum. I had to rearrange my day and feed when they fed, and take a ‘siesta’ until the temple was empty once more. Until the tripper season we were almost flyless, being sufficiently far in the desert to be away from that pest. The donkeys and the débris of the picnickers brought the usual swarms of flies with them, and work in any of the temples was as bad in that respect as in the bazaars at Cairo.
196 The smaller parties who dropped on us unawares were most to be feared. I might be making some studies in one of the tombs, which are airless enough at the best of times, and be suddenly aware that a party was approaching by hearing, ‘Dis way, ladies and shentlemens, to de Tomb of Rekmaré.’ There would be no help for it but to pack up my traps and be off. If I returned after the crowd had been rushed off somewhere else, the air would be unbreathable, both from the numbers who had been there, and from the extinguished tapers or magnesium wire.
By the end of March I, and possibly some artist friend, would again reign supreme at Der el-Bahri. It is a hot valley, for it is shut off from the northerly breezes, and the cliffs throw back the rays of the sun. By rearranging our days we managed to avoid the worst of the heat. We breakfasted at daybreak, and we took our midday meal about eleven, and from twelve till four we would sleep in some recess where the sun’s rays had never penetrated. After that, and a cold bath and some tea, we could get to work till sundown. The hut became unbearable in April, for it had no double roof. The coolest spot I could find for the midday rest was in the Ptolemaic sanctuary in Hatshepsu’s temple. This is cut deep into the overhanging cliffs, and in the hot season would be some twenty degrees cooler than my hut. I put an Arab bed in here, and by lying with my head to the entrance, there was just light enough to be able to read myself to sleep.
There was no fear of trippers now, and the few visitors who remained on in Luxor would only arrive197 before or after the heat of the day. On first entering my temporary boudoir nothing would be visible on the dark walls; but on getting accustomed to the dim light, rows of gods and goddesses would appear. The hawk-headed Homs, jackal-laced Anubis, and the unspeakable Min of Koptos were all here; also the rounded forms of Euergetes’s Queen, and Maat, the goddess of truth. The tiger-headed Sekhmet, Bellona’s prototype, and Sobk with his crocodile snout made a foil to the rounded features of Hathor and Isis.
A squeaky sound somewhere above would make me aware that I was not the only living tenant of this sanctuary. Bats have long since discovered that it is fairly cool here in summer, and not too cold in winter. A noise like gentle taps from a hammer would draw my eyes to a wide crack in the wall, and around two shiny little beads I would make out the form of a large lizard. The little beads would stare at me for some time, and if I just moved my head they would disappear into the depths of the wall. The bats like myself only used this place as a shelter from the heat, and would venture out towards night to find a living; but what could this lizard (a gecko, I believe, it is called) find here to subsist on? Flies kept away from this dark sanctuary, and except the water I had in my water-bottle no moisture finds its way here.
The guards occasionally shot a snake, but all I have seen in this temple appeared to be harmless ones; anyhow, none ever shared my resting-place with me. It was different in the enclosure of the Ramesseum, which is nearer the moisture of the cultivated land. I was198 returning from my work there one evening, and passed close to a large cobra. It was curled round a stone which was partly hid in the scrub growing near the pylon. I had no stick with me, or I might have been able to kill it. It was the first I had ever seen, except in captivity, and I was very interested in comparing it with its numerous presentments in every temple in Egypt. To kill it, with as little risk as possible of its killing me, became my chief wish when I had watched it for some time, and reflected what a danger this beautiful creature was to the numbers of people who roam about the temple. When I picked up a good-sized stone, it shifted its place and disappeared in the scrub.
I came to the spot on the following evening with Mr. Howard Carter and a shot-gun; we also brought some milk in a pan, and placed it near where I had seen the cobra. We waited till dark in the hopes of our bait attracting it, but I am sorry to say we saw it no more.
Professor Flinders Petrie told me that he had killed several with his walking-stick. They are easily destroyed; but if one merely wounds the creature with a blow, it may strike its fangs into one before a second blow can be dealt. We told the guardians of the temple, and they promised to try to shoot it. I never heard of their having done so, and I have a suspicion that the prospect of a gratuity from a snake-charmer may have prevented them. Whether this cobra has since hearkened to the voice of the charmers, charming never so wisely, and is now occasionally pulled out of a sack to perform on the pavement in front of Shepheard’s hotel, I cannot say. I have never seen as large199 a specimen in Cairo, and I expect they are taken when they are young.
As this is an art practised now as in pharaonic times, it may be of interest to hear what Canon Tristram says about it in The Natural History of the Bible: ‘The art of serpent charming, referred to in Ps. lviii. 4 and Jas. iii. 7, is of immense antiquity, and is practised not only in Africa but in India. In the latter country it is exercised on another species of cobra (naja tripudians) very like the haje. The resources of the charmers appear to be very simple—the shrill notes of a flute, which are the only kind of tones which the serpent, with its very imperfect sense of sound, is capable of distinctly following: and, above all, coolness and courage, combined with gentleness in handling the animal, so as not to irritate it. The charmers are not impostors; for though they may sometimes remove the fangs, it is a well-attested fact that they generally allow them to remain, and they will operate on the animals when just caught as willingly as on individuals which have long been in their possession; but they are very reluctant to make experiments on any other species than the cobra. When a cobra has been discovered in a hole, the charmer plays at the mouth until the serpent, attracted by the sound, comes out, when it is suddenly seized by the tail, and held at arm’s length. Thus suspended, it is unabl............