Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  Monday morning we started bright and early for Philae, seven miles above Aswan. Until the great dam was built Philae must have been exceedingly beautiful, but now the island is entirely covered with water, and only the upper parts of the temples and the kiosk are to be seen — apparently rising from the bosom of a placid lake. We entered the temples in boats, and afterward mounted to the top of the great temple of Isis.

  The famous Osiris room is near the roof and easily accessible. The inscriptions represent the assembling of the fourteen pieces of the god Osiris, which had been scattered throughout the kingdom, and their burial.

  Long after the ancient Egyptian religion had passed from the land the worship of Isis was still continued here at Philae. The legend of Philae is to be found in the Arabian Nights. L. F. took a picture of me standing on the roof of this temple.

  In about two years the extension to the dam will raise the water twelve feet more above the present level. It is said that ten years from now, if the temples are not removed, no trace of them will remain. It is the sacrifice demanded for the modern redemption of Egypt and its conversion into the most fertile and productive land on earth.

  We crossed the barrage, or great dam of Aswan, which is a mile and a quarter in length, and had luncheon at a rest house. Afterward we floated down the Nile in boats and rejoined our steamer at its anchorage.

  At Aswan are the vast granite quarries from which all the material was taken to build the monuments and cities of Lower and Upper Egypt. The immense obelisks and the numerous colossal statues of Ramses and other kings were doubtless floated down the Nile on rafts to their destination. Also from this locality came the stones used in building the Pyramids of Gizeh, and especially the enormous blocks of granite contained in the Temple of the Sphinx, which in size have never been equaled in the construction of any modern building.

  From the river banks at Aswan rise huge boulders of black granite, while red, blue and grey granite quarries are nearby in sufficient quantities to rebuild Egypt as it was in all its former glory.

  Tuesday morning, as we started on our homeward trip, we encountered a terrible sand storm, which blotted out the landscape all day but did not affect us disagreeably where we steamed down the river. The temperature dropped forty-two degrees, so that the change from the extreme heat was very marked.

  We reached Luxor Thursday morning and remained there a few hours, giving L. F. and me an opportunity of making another visit to the temple. The next morning we arrived at Al-Balyana, on the west bank of the Nile, which is the port from which Abydos is reached. The ancient city and the temples are ten miles from this place, and that meant a twenty-mile donkey ride, but not a soul refused to take the journey.

  The day was perfect, the sunshine being brilliant but the air cool and agreeable. Over the desert and mountains hung a soft violet haze. The country we traversed was very fertile and covered with herds of cattle, for this is the butter and milk market for lower Egypt. It happened to be market-day in Al-Balyana, so we met many people going to town on foot, donkey-back or perched upon tall camels. Some carried lambs in their arms, others led a calf or balanced a crock of butter on their heads, for their method is to exchange the goods and chattels they have for others which they desire, and little real money changes hands on the market days.

  Ancient Abydos was one of the most renowned cities of Egypt, and its temple is considered by many the most beautiful that now remains. At the time of the Persian invasion, when Cambyses mutilated every statue and bas-relief he could find, this temple lay buried in rubbish and so escaped. It also escaped the vandalism of the early Christians, so that when in modern times the great temple was discovered and excavated it had suffered merely from the ravages of time, and most of the reliefs were excellently preserved. It was the second religious center in Egypt; Thebes, Abydos and Heliopolis being the three seats of religious thought and learning. It was the home of Menes, the first historical king of Egypt.

  The great temple was built by Seti I, and has seven shrines dedicated to Horus, Isis, Osiris, Amen, Harmachis, Ptah, and Seti I. The colorings of the decorations are remarkably preserved, even the gold beads around the king’s neck still showing the gold leaf. The ceilings are all arched, painted blue and studded with five-pointed stars.

  The most famous discovery in this temple was the Tablet of Abydos, carved upon the wall of a hallway and setting forth the list of seventy-six kings of Egypt, from Mena (or Menes) to Seti I. To Egyptologists this tablet has been the most important discovery ever made. There is a copy in the British Museum, but the original still remains and L. F. got a fair photograph of it.

  Many of the reliefs seem like carvings of old ivory, being as smooth and colored only by time. Egyptian art was at its best when this temple was constructed, and Seti was certainly the most artistic builder Egypt ever has known. It is said that the profiles of the king to be seen here are faithful likenesses. If so he had a beautiful face, and his son, the Great Ramses, bears a resemblance to him. In one picture we see Seti lassoing a bull — in modern “Wild West” fashion — while Ramses, then a child, grasps the bull by the tail, an evidence that he has arrived at an age when he can grapple with life.

  We had our luncheon in this old temple, the supplies having been brought from the boat on the backs of camels. The long journey tired us, so that we were willing to rest when we finally returned to our floating hotel. Today we are at Assuit, where we shall remain several hours. Tomorrow is our last day of sight-seeing on the Nile, and I will finish my letter when that is over.

  We visited the former palace of Amenophis this morning, or what is left of the palace, which consists mainly of the wonderful frescoed floor. The walls are gone, but singularly enough, the floors remain in all their beauty. In the center of each room is represented a pond, with water plants and fishes, the latter perfect as a photograph and showing the smallest scale and natural coloring. Around the ponds were marsh plants, with birds flying over them and animals coming to drink. Other sections of the floor showed lotus, poppies and papyrus, and around the outer edge was a border of vases holding flowers. The most elaborate floors were those of the harem, and in aisles where the king was accustomed to walk were pictures of captured tribes, they being literally beneath the feet of their conqueror. Fragments show that the original palace was of alabaster and limestone. Amenophis IV was called the “heretic king,” because he preferred to worship the sun’s disc rather than the established gods. The remains of his palace at Khut-aten was the last item of interest on our Nile program, and we are now headed for Cairo, which we shall reach Sunday afternoon. We plan to spend three days in the museum and the native shops and start for Alexandria Thursday morning. On the fifteenth we sail for Sicily, and I will not write again until we reach there. Both of us are sorry this delightful trip is over, for never have we enjoyed anything more or been so intensely interested. It has been such a treat to start our trip at the beginning of civilization — as far as we know — for next we visit the land of Hiero and Dionysius and then follow up the Grecian and Roman civilizations.

  Shepherd’s Hotel, Sunday Evening.

  Our holiday on the Nile is over, and we are back at the hotel. Never in my life do I again expect to enjoy anything so much. Every moment was one of joy, and I hated to have the voyage end. The desert has a fascination for me greater than any towns or cultivated fields, and I can readily understand why people in this part of the world refuse to leave it. The great wastes are always beautiful, but the colorings in early morning and at sunset defy description. Last night we saw the full moon rise from behind the eastern mountains and mount into a sky exquisitely tinted in blue and pink hues, which tinged all the desert and mountains beneath. At the same moment on the west side of the river was the setting sun — a glowing ball of golden red set in a sky of flaming clouds edged with gorgeous yellows. There they were, the sun and the moon, with only the arch of sky between them, and while we gazed enraptured an Arab on his camel was silhouetted against the silve
r light of the moon, while a group of men and donkeys were clear-cut against the sun’s rosy disc. I shall never see another sunset to equal this until I return to Egypt and the Nile again.

  LETTER VIII. TAORMINA AND MT. ETNA

  Grand Hotel Castello a Mare Taormina, Sicily

  First I must tell you how we left Egypt. Our three days in Cairo were consumed in the Mouski, or native markets, which are very fascinating to Americans, and in visits to the Museum. In some respects the Museum at Cairo is the most wonderful in the world, and as we were fresh from our visit to the Nile country we reviewed with eager interest the relics preserved from the various temples and cities we had seen. Especially interested were we in gazing at the mummies of Seti I and his great son Ramses II. Remembering their vast works, these dried bits of flesh inspired us with a certain awe.

  One of the most interesting rooms in the museum contains the collection discovered by the American excavator, Davis. He has been wonderfully successful in unearthing antiquities, and Americans may well be proud of his record. In this collection is a chariot from the period of one of the early dynasties. It is in excellent condition, has two wheels elaborately carved and colored, a body rich in gold leaf ornamentation and — think of it — the wheels are rubber-tired.

  It was full-moon on Monday evening, and we drove in a carriage to see the Sphinx and the Pyramids by moonlight. The effect was astonishingly beautiful, for the soft light disguised the blemishes of the grand old Sphinx and lent the face a rare dignity. We sat in the desert sands for hours, breathing the soft, fragrant breeze and lost in dreams of empires long since vanished and forgotten.

  Wednesday morning we took the train down to Alexandria and spent the day in this rather uninteresting town, driving to Pompey’s Pillar and the Catacombs and then along the Nile bank, taking our last adieu of the river we love. Alexandria is still a French town, and after Cairo cannot impress one as being especially attractive.

  On Thursday, the 15th, we sailed for Messina on a small Italian boat and had a smooth voyage, a bright sky overhead and blue seas below us. The boat was a funny little tub, not very clean, and served the craziest meals you can imagine. Breakfast at 7:00, luncheon at 10:30, tea at 3:00, dinner at 6:30 and supper at 9:00. And the bill-of-fare consisted of such wild Italian messes that it upset me completely and I had indigestion for several days afterward.

  We spent Sunday and most of Monday in Messina, which is a pleasant city with many quaint palaces. It is situated directly on the Straits of Messina and our window overlooked the Marina, where ships were loading with lemons for foreign ports. Sunday afternoon we drove out to the lighthouse to view the whirlpool of Charybdis, where a life boat is still kept to rescue small craft drawn by the strong current into the dangerous whirlpool. Across the straits stands the rock of Scylla — plainly visible from where we stood. The day was so clear we could easily see Mt. Stromboli, on the Lipari Island, and the blue mountains of Calabria. I never before saw such bluey blue water or such various shades of blue. They range from delicate sky-blue to deep indigo blue; but they are never grey-blue or green-blue or yellow-blue — only just blue.

  We left for Taormina Monday afternoon, and on our three-hours’ ride in the dumpy Italian train had the mountains on one side of us and the glorious Mediterranean on the other. We left the train at Giardini, for the town of Taormina is three miles up the straight side of a mountain; at least the road leading up is three miles, but it makes many twists and turns, so that the town is about eight-hundred feet above the level of the sea. But the road is smooth as a boulevard, and the views at every turn are so delightful that no one wants to urge the creeping carriage horses to a faster gait.

  Our hotel is perched upon an enormous rock rising sheer from the sea seven-hundred and fifty-eight feet below. Indeed, the rock is built right into the hotel. Our room faces south, and has a small iron balcony outside the French windows from which we can see across the Mediterranean to the Calabrian coast. At our right towers mighty Aetna, or Etna, as they call it here, capped by its eternal snows and crowned with the clouds of smoke that constantly issue from its crater. Green fields and orchards spread to the left, while below us are two pretty capes and the exquisite island gem known as Isola Bella. Such beauty and grandeur is seldom (if ever) united in one spot. The guide books say that Taormina is the most beautiful spot in Italy or Sicily, and one of the most beautiful in the world. If they would tell us where to find its equal we would go there; but concerning a peer to Taormina they maintain a discreet silence.

  We plan to stay here three weeks, for L. F. must finish a book in order to save his publishers the expense of a cable every few days demanding the manuscript. He is writing in the terraced gardens of the hotel, where every flower you have ever heard of seems to be represented. There are many leafy bowers that are ideal spots for literary grinds.

  Taormina was settled 700 B.C., but that seems like yesterday to me, remembering the antiquity of Egypt Yet they think it is old here, and when you approach a relic from the time of Christ they will say: “This is modern; it is no older than the Christian era.” So all things remain, now as ever, comparative. The town was first Phoenician, then Greek, then the capital of the Slave Kings, and later a Roman settlement. The remains of a famous Greek theatre are here remarkably well preserved. It was built of brick, and the stage and proscenium still stand, as well as a part of the arena. There are stone steps leading up to the seats which are worn half through by the feet of the ancients, and two of the seats still bear the names of their noble owners. There are spacious dressing-rooms on each side of the stage and large rooms where the wild beasts were kept. For here were not only presented tragedies, dramas and comedies, but the arena was the scene of many bloody fights between the gladiators and the wild beasts. The site is wonderful, for from the higher tiers of seats one can look over the proscenium and see majestic Etna and the distant blue seas. Also one may turn and observe the heights of Mola, two-thousand and eighty feet above the sea, with its old castle mantling the summit, and the ruined citadel upon a neighboring peak called Mt. Venere.

  The town of Taormina is quaint and picturesque, abounding in side streets reached by flights of stone steps, queer archways, and buildings representing several different eras. The Messina Gate and the Catania Gate, at opposite ends of the town, are very old indeed, and part of the Roman wall connecting them still exists. The Normans at one time occupied Taormina, and some interesting bits of architecture remain to prove their skill as builders.

  Baron Von Gloeden, who is a celebrated artist of Taormina, claims that the Greek type of physique remains today more perfect in Sicily than it does in Greece, since here there has been practically no intermarrying with other races. It was only after the conquest of Sicily and the magnificent empire established here, that the Greeks became a great nation, and the flower of their nobility always remained in this island.

  Etna fascinates the dweller at Taormina. Sometimes she is entirely enveloped in clouds; at other times the mountain seems so near and is so distinct in every outline, that I almost believe I could put out my hand and touch it. It is 10,758 feet high: the highest volcano in Europe. The last rays of our golden sunsets always touch the crater of Etna and paint its smoke a flaming red. It is easy then to believe the volcano is belching fire, until the glow slowly fades, the brief twilight dies away and against the dark background of sky the venerable mountain sends its pillar of curling white smoke to join the cloud that always hovers above it.

  LETTER IX. ANCIENT SYRACUSE

  Hotel Villa Politi, Latomia di Cappuccini, Siracusa, Sicily

  We made a brief stop at Catania, which lies at the foot of Mt. Etna, but found the place rather uninteresting. If one cares to climb the mountain he starts at Catania, but we did not wish to undertake the task and so came on here.

  Modem Syracuse is beautifully located on the small island of Ortygia; now connected with the coast by a narrow neck of land. In former years, when this city was the center of the world
’s civilization, Syracuse also covered a large promontory to the north, having five districts which were called the five cities of Syracuse. Each had its own wall, traces of which still remain.

  The sweep of the blue sea, which is guarded by distant, snowcapped Etna, is from this point indescribably beautiful. We are staying at a hotel situated on the edge of one of the latomie. These latomie were the former quarries from which all the stone to build ancient Syracuse was taken. They are several hundred feet in depth and today their sides are covered with masses of vines and shrubbery — even small trees growing out of some of the crevices. Our latomia, close by the Villa Politi, is the Cappuccini and has beautiful gardens at the bottom of it where flowers and fruit trees of all kinds flourish. It was here that seven-thousand Athenian captives were imprisoned and left to die.

  We have visited the church of San Giovanni, founded in 1182. It has an exquisite rose window on one side and its porches are very picturesque. This edifice was built upon another church which was one of the most ancient in Sicily, for here St. Paul preached when he came to Syracuse. Here also St. Marcian suffered martyrdom, bound to one of the granite pillars which are still standing. Indeed the foundations and lower rooms of the older church are well preserved, and it was built in the form of a Greek cross. The frescoes are dim but still may be clearly traced.

  Opening out of this church are the Catacombs, the largest in the world. The main passage is ten feet wide and eight feet high, and at intervals are large circular chambers, one containing an altar. The large excavations letting out of the passages had niches cut in them to contain the bodies of entire families. Sometimes these rock-hewn tombs were in perpendicular rows; then they would be cut horizontally around the excavation. Above some of the tombs are carved crosses, or pictures of the Saints, these last having little of the original coloring remaining. The Catacombs of Syracuse date from the fourth century A.D.