egypt-第14章

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them；　and　makes　between　the　tombs　of　the　different　sultans　little　dead

solitudes；　remains　pale　and　wan。



And　meanwhile　our　carriage；　proceeding　always　without　noise；　traces　on

this　same　sand　little　furrows　which　the　wind　will　have　effaced　by

to…morrow。　There　are　no　roads　of　any　kind；　they　would　indeed　be　as

useless　as　they　are　impossible　to　make。　You　may　pass　here　where　you

like；　and　fancy　yourself　far　away　from　any　place　inhabited　by　living

beings。　The　great　town；　which　we　know　to　be　so　close；　appears　from

time　to　time；　thanks　to　the　undulations　of　the　ground；　as　a　mere

phosphorescence；　a　reflection　of　its　myriad　electric　lights。　We　are

indeed　in　the　desert　of　the　dead；　in　the　sole　company　of　the　moon；

which；　by　the　fantasy　of　this　wonderful　Egyptian　sky；　is　to…night　a

moon　of　grey　pearl；　one　might　almost　say　a　moon　of　mother…of…pearl。



Each　of　these　funeral　mosques　is　a　thing　of　splendour；　if　one　examines

it　closely　in　its　solitude。　These　strange　upraised　domes；　which　from　a

distance　look　like　the　head…dresses　of　dervishes　or　magi；　are

embroidered　with　arabesques；　and　the　walls　are　crowned　with

denticulated　trefoils　of　exquisite　fashioning。



But　nobody　venerates　these　tombs　of　the　Mameluke　oppressors；　or　keeps

them　in　repair；　and　within　them　there　are　no　more　chants；　no　prayers

to　Allah。　Night　after　night　they　pass　in　an　infinity　of　silence。　Piety

contents　itself　with　not　destroying　them；　leaving　them　there　at　the

mercy　of　time　and　the　sun　and　the　wind　which　withers　and　crumbles

them。　And　all　around　are　the　signs　of　ruin。　Tottering　cupolas　show　us

irreparable　cracks；　the　halves　of　broken　arches　are　outlined　to…night

in　shadow　against　the　mother…of…pearl　light　of　the　sky；　and　debris　of

sculptured　stones　are　strewn　about。　But　nevertheless　these　tombs；　that

are　well…nigh　accursed；　still　stir　in　us　a　vague　sense　of　alarm

particularly　those　in　the　distance；　which　rise　up　like　silhouettes　of

misshapen　giants　in　enormous　hatsdark　on　the　white　sheet　of　sand

and　stand　there　in　groups；　or　scattered　in　confusion；　at　the　entrance

to　the　vast　empty　regions　beyond。



*****



We　had　chosen　a　time　when　the　light　was　doubtful　in　order　that　we

might　avoid　the　tourists；　but　as　we　approach　the　funeral　dwelling　of

Sultan　Barkuk；　the　assassin；　we　see；　issuing　from　it；　a　whole　band；

some　twenty　in　a　line；　who　emerge　from　the　darkness　of　the　abandoned

walls；　each　trotting　on　his　little　donkey　and　each　followed　by　the

inevitable　Bedouin　driver；　who　taps　with　his　stick　upon　the　rump　of

the　beast。　They　are　returning　to　Cairo；　their　visit　ended；　and

exchange　in　a　loud　voice；　from　one　ass　to　another；　more　or　less　inept

impressions　in　various　European　languages。　。　。　。　And　look！　There　is

even　amongst　them　the　almost　proverbial　belated　dame　who；　for　private

reasons　of　her　own；　follows　at　a　respectable　distance　behind。　She　is　a

little　mature　perhaps；　so　far　as　can　be　judged　in　the　moonlight；　but

nevertheless　still　sympathetic　to　her　driver；　who；　with　both　hands；

supports　her　from　behind　on　her　saddle；　with　a　touching　solicitude

that　is　peculiar　to　the　country。　Ah！　these　little　donkeys　of　Egypt；　so

observant；　so　philosophical　and　sly；　why　cannot　they　write　their

memoirs！　What　a　number　of　droll　things　they　must　have　seen　at　night　in

the　outskirts　of　Cairo！



This　good　lady　evidently　belongs　to　that　extensive　category　of　hardy

explorers　who；　despite　their　high　respectability　at　home；　do　not

hesitate；　once　they　are　landed　on　the　banks　of　the　Nile；　to　supplement

their　treatment　by　the　sun　and　the　dry　winds　with　a　little　of　the

〃Bedouin　cure。〃







CHAPTER　VIII



ARCHAIC　CHRISTIANITY



Dimly　lighted　by　the　flames　of　a　few　poor　slender　tapers　which　flicker

against　the　walls　in　stone　arches；　a　dense　crowd　of　human　figures

veiled　in　black；　in　a　place　overpowering　and　suffocatingunderground；

no　doubtwhich　is　filled　with　the　perfume　of　the　incense　of　Arabia；

and　a　noise　of　almost　wicked　movement；　which　sirs　us　to　alarm　and　even

horror：　bleatings　of　new…born　babies；　cries　of　distress　of　tiny　mites

whose　voices　are　drowned；　as　if　on　purpose；　by　a　clinking　of　cymbals。



What　can　it　be？　Why　have　they　descended　into　this　dark　hole；　these

little　ones；　who　howl　in　the　midst　of　the　smoke；　held　by　these

phantoms　in　mourning？　Had　we　entered　it　unawares　we　might　have　thought

it　a　den　of　wicked　sorcery；　an　underground　cavern　for　the　black　mass。



But　no。　It　is　the　crypt　of　the　basilica　of　St。　Sergius　during　the

Coptic　mass　of　Easter　morning。　And　when；　after　the　first　surprise；　we

examine　these　phantoms；　we　find　that；　for　the　most　part；　they　are

young　mothers；　with　the　refined　and　gentle　faces　of　Madonnas；　who　hold

the　plaintive　little　ones　beneath　their　black　veils　and　seek　to

comfort　them。　And　the　sorcerer；　who　plays　the　cymbals；　is　a　kind　old

priest；　or　sacristan；　who　smiles　paternally。　If　he　makes　all　this

noise；　in　a　rhythm　which　in　itself　is　full　of　joy；　it　is　to　mark　the

gladness　of　Easter　morn；　to　celebrate　the　resurrection　of　Christand

a　little；　too；　no　doubt；　to　distract　the　little　ones；　some　of　whom　are

woefully　put　out。　But　their　mammas　do　not　prolong　the　proofa　mere

momentary　visit　to　this　venerable　place；　which　is　to　bring　them

happiness；　and　they　carry　their　babes　away：　and　others　are　led　in　by

the　dark；　narrow　staircase；　so　low　that　one　cannot　stand　upright　in

it。　And　thus　the　crypt　is　not　emptied。　And　meanwhile　mass　is　being

said　in　the　church　overhead。



But　what　a　number　of　people；　of　black　veils；　are　in　this　hovel；　where

the　air　can　scarcely　be　breathed；　and　where　the　barbarous　music；

mingled　with　wailings　and　cries；　deafens　you！　And　what　an　air　of

antiquity　marks　all　things　here！　The　defaced　walls；　the　low　roof　that

one　can　easily　touch；　the　granite　pillars　which　sustain　the　shapeless

arches　are　all　blackened　by　the　smoke　of　the　wax　candles；　and　scarred

and　worn　by　the　friction　of　human　hands。



At　the　end　of　the　crypt　there　is　a　very　sacred　recess　round　which　a

crowd　presses：　a　coarse　niche；　a　little　larger　than　those　cut　in　the

wall　to　receive　the　tapers；　a　niche　which　covers　the　ancient　stone　on

which；　according　to　tradition；　the　Virgin　Mary　rested；　with　the　child

Jesus；　in　the　course　of　the　flight　into　Egypt。　This　holy　stone　is

sadly　worn　to…day　and　polished　smooth　by　the　touch　of　many　pious

hands；　and　the　Byzantine　cross　which　once　was　carved　on　it　is　almost

effaced。



But　even　if　the　Virgin　had　never　rested　there；　the　humble　crypt　of　St。

Sergius　would　remain　no　less　one　of　the　oldest　Christian　sanctuaries

in　the　world。　And　the　Copts　who　still　assemble　there　with　veneration

have　preceded　by　many　years　the　greater　part　of　our　Western　nations　in

the　religion　of　the　Bible。



Although　the　history　of　Egypt　envelops　itself　in　a　sort　of　night　at

the　moment　of　the　appearance　of　Christianity；　we　know　that　the　growth

of　the　new　faith　there　was　as　rapid　and　impetuous　as　the　germination

of　plants　under　the　overflow　of　the　Nile。　The　old　Pharaonic　cults；

amalgamated　at　that　time　with　those　of　Greece；　were　so　obscured　under

a　mass　of　rites　and　formulae；　that　they　had　ceased　to　have　any

meaning。　And　nevertheless　here；　as　in　imperial　Rome；　there　brooded　the

ferment　of　a　passionate　mysticism。　Moreover；　this　Egyptian　people；

more　than　any　other；　was　haunted　by　the　terror　of　death；　as　is　proved

by　the　folly　of　its　embalmments。　With　what　avidity　therefore　must　it

have　received　the　Word　of　fraternal　love　and　immediate　resurrection？



In　any　case　Christianity　was　so　firmly　implanted　in　this　Egypt　that

centuries　of　persecution　did　not　succeed　in　destroying　it。　As　one　goes

up　the　Nile；　many　little　human　settlements　are　to　be　seen；　little

groups　of　houses　of　dried　mud；　where　the　whitened　dome　of　the　modest

house　of　prayer　is　surmounted　by　a　cross　and　not　a　crescent。　They　are

the　villages　of　those　Copts；　those　Egyptians；　who　have　preserved　the

Christian　faith　from　father　to　son　since　the　n