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egypt-第2部分

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Sphinx itself; half hill; half couchant beast; turning its back upon

us in the attitude of a gigantic dog; that thought to bay the moon;

its head stood out in dark silhouette; like a screen before the light

it seemed to be regarding; and the lappets of its headgear showed like

downhanging ears。 And then gradually; as we walked on; we saw it in

profile; shorn of its noseflat…nosed like a death's headbut having

already an expression even when seen afar off and from the side;

already disdainful with thrust…out chin and baffling; mysterious

smile。 And when at length we arrived before the colossal visage; face

to face with itwithout however encountering its gaze; which passed

high above our headsthere came over us at once the sentiment of all

the secret thought which these men of old contrived to incorporate and

make eternal behind this mutilated mask。



But in full daylight their great Sphinx is no more。 It has ceased as

it were to exist。 It is so scarred by time; and by the hands of

iconoclasts; so dilapidated; broken and diminished; that it is as

inexpressive as the crumbling mummies found in the sarcophagi; which

no longer even ape humanity。 But after the manner of all phantoms it

comes to life again at night; beneath the enchantments of the moon。



For the men of its time whom did it represent? King Amenemhat? The Sun

God? Who can rightly tell? Of all hieroglyphic images it remains the

one least understood。 The unfathomable thinkers of Egypt symbolised

everything for the benefit of the uninitiated under the form of awe…

inspiring figures of the gods; and it may be; perhaps; that; after

having meditated so deeply in the shadow of their temples; and sought

so long the everlasting wherefore of life and death; they wished

simply to sum up in the smile of these closed lips the vanity of the

most profound of our human speculations。 。 。 。 It is said that the

Sphinx was once of striking beauty; when harmonious contour and

colouring animated the face; and it was enthroned at its full height

on a kind of esplanade paved with long slabs of stone。 But was it then

more sovereign than it is to…night in its last decrepitude? Almost

buried beneath the sand of the Libyan desert; which now quite hides

its base; it rises at this hour like a phantom which nothing solid

sustains in the air。



*****



It has gone midnight。 In little groups the tourists of the evening

have disappeared; to regain perhaps the neighbouring hotel; where the

orchestra doubtless has not ceased to rage; or may be; remounting

their cars; to join; in some club of Cairo; one of those bridge

parties; in which the really superior intellects of our time delight;

somethe stouthearted onesdeparted talking loudly and with cigar in

mouth; others; however; daunted in spite of themselves; lowered their

voices as people instinctively do in church。 And the Bedouin guides;

who a moment ago seemed to flutter about the giant monument like so

many black mothsthey too have gone; made restless by the cold air;

which erstwhile they had not known。 The show for to…night is over; and

everywhere silence reigns。



The rosy tint fades on the Sphinx and the pyramids; all things in the

ghostly scene grow visibly paler; for the moon as it rises becomes

more silvery in the increasing chilliness of midnight。 The winter

mist; exhaled from the artificially watered fields below; continues to

rise; takes heart and envelops the great mute face itself。 And the

latter persists in its regard of the dead moon; preserving still the

old disconcerting smile。 It becomes more and more difficult to believe

that here before us is a real colossus; so surely does it seem nothing

other than a dilated reflection of a thing which exists /elsewhere/;

in some other world。 And behind in the distance are the three

triangular mountains。 Them; too; the fog envelops; till they also

cease to exist; and become pure visions of the Apocalypse。



Now it is that little by little an intolerable sadness is expressed in

those large eyes with their empty socketsfor; at this moment; the

ultimate secret; that which the Sphinx seems to have known for so many

centuries; but to have withheld in melancholy irony; is this: that all

these dead men and women who sleep in the vast necropolis below have

been fooled; and the awakening signal has not sounded for a single one

of them; and that the creation of mankindmankind that thinks and

suffershas had no rational explanation; and that our poor

aspirations are vain; but so vain as to awaken pity。







CHAPTER II



THE PASSING OF CAIRO



Ragged; threatening clouds; like those that bring the showers of our

early spring; hurry across a pale evening sky; whose mere aspect makes

you cold。 A wintry wind; raw and bitter; blows without ceasing; and

brings with it every now and then some furtive spots of rain。



A carriage takes me towards what was once the residence of the great

Mehemet Ali: by a steep incline it ascends into the midst of rocks and

sandand already; and almost in a moment; we seem to be in the

desert; though we have scarcely left behind the last houses of an Arab

quarter; where long…robed folk; who looked half frozen; were muffled

up to the eyes to…day。 。 。 。 Was there formerly such weather as this

in this country noted for its unchanging mildness?



This residence of the great sovereign of Egypt; the citadel and the

mosque which he had made for his last repose; are perched like eagles'

nests on a spur of the mountain chain of Arabia; the Mokattam; which

stretches out like a promontory towards the basin of the Nile; and

brings quite close to Cairo; so as almost to overhang it; a little of

the desert solitude。 And so the eye can see from far off and from all

sides the mosque of Mehemet Ali; with the flattened domes of its

cupolas; its pointed minarets; the general aspect so entirely Turkish;

perched high up; with a certain unexpectedness; above the Arab town

which it dominates。 The prince who sleeps there wished that it should

resemble the mosques of his fatherland; and it looks as if it had been

transported bodily from Stamboul。



A short trot brings us up to the lower gate of the old fortress; and;

by a natural effect; as we ascend; all Cairo which is near there;

seems to rise with us: not yet indeed the endless multitude of its

houses; but at first only the thousands of its minarets; which in a

few seconds point their high towers into the mournful sky; and suggest

at once that an immense town is about to unfold itself under our eyes。



Continuing to ascendpast the double rampart; the double or triple

gates; which all these old fortresses possess; we penetrate at length

into a large fortified courtyard; the crenellated walls of which shut

out our further view。 Soldiers are on guard thereand how unexpected

are such soldiers in this holy place of Egypt! The red uniforms and

the white faces of the north: Englishmen; billeted in the palace of

Mehemet Ali!



The mosque first meets the eye; preceding the palace。 And as we

approach; it is Stamboul indeedfor me dear old Stamboulwhich is

called to mind; there is nothing; whether in the lines of its

architecture or in the details of its ornamentation; to suggest the

art of the Arabsa purer art it may be than this and of which many

excellent examples may be seen in Cairo。 No; it is a corner of Turkey

into which we are suddenly come。



Beyond a courtyard paved with marble; silent and enclosed; which

serves as a vast parvis; the sanctuary recalls those of Mehemet Fatih

or the Chah Zade: the same sanctified gloom; into which the stained

glass of the narrow windows casts a splendour as of precious stones;

the same extreme distance between the enormous pillars; leaving more

clear space than in our churches; and giving to the domes the

appearance of being held up by enchantment。



The walls are of a strange white marble streaked with yellow。 The

ground is completely covered with carpets of a sombre red。 In the

vaults; very elaborately wrought; nothing but blacks and gold: a

background of black bestrewn with golden roses; and bordered with

arabesques like gold lace。 And from above hang thousands of gold

chains supporting the vigil lamps for the evening prayers。 Here and

there are people on their knees; little groups in robe and turban;

scattered fortuitously upon the red of the carpets; and almost lost in

the midst of the sumptuous solitude。



In an obscure corner lies Mehemet Ali; the prince adventurous and

chivalrous as some legendary hero; and withal one of the greatest

sovereigns of modern history。 There he lies behind a grating of gold;

of complicated design; in that Turkish style; already decadent; but

still so beautiful; which was that of his epoch。



Through the golden bars may be seen in the shadow the catafalque of

state; in three tiers; covered with blue brocades; exquisitely faded;

and profusely embroidered with dull
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