按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
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 gold。 Two long green palms freshly
cut from some date…tree in the neighbourhood are crossed before the
door of this sort of funeral enclosure。 And it seems that around us is
an inviolable religious peace。 。 。 。
But all at once there comes a noisy chattering in a Teutonic tongue
and shouts and laughs！ 。 。 。 How is it possible； so near to the great
dead？ 。 。 。 And there enters a group of tourists； dressed more or less
in the approved 〃smart〃 style。 A guide； with a droll countenance；
recites to them the beauties of the place； bellowing at the top of his
voice like a showman at a fair。 And one of the travellers； stumbling
in the sandals which are too large for her small feet； laughs a
prolonged； silly little laugh like the clucking of a turkey。 。 。 。
Is there then no keeper； no guardian of this holy mosque？ And amongst
the faithful prostrate here in prayer； none who will rise and make
indignant protest？ Who after this will speak to us of the fanaticism
of the Egyptians？ 。 。 。 Too meek； rather； they seem to me everywhere。
Take any church you please in Europe where men go down on their knees
in prayer； and I should like to see what kind of a welcome would be
accorded to a party of Moslem tourists whoto suppose the impossible
behaved so badly as these savages here。
Behind the mosque is an esplanade； and beyond that the palace。 The
palace； as such； can scarcely be said to exist any longer； for it has
been turned into a barrack for the army of occupation。 English
soldiers； indeed； meet us at every turn； smoking their pipes in the
idleness of the evening。 One of them who does not smoke is trying to
carve his name with a knife on one of the layers of marble at the base
of the sanctuary。
At the end of this esplanade there is a kind of balcony from which one
may see the whole of the town； and an unlimited extent of verdant
plains and yellow desert。 It is a favourite view of the tourists of
the agencies； and we meet again our friends of the mosque； who have
preceded us hitherthe gentlemen with the loud voices； the bellowing
guide and the cackling lady。 Some soldiers are standing there too；
smoking their pipes contemplatively。 But spite of all these people； in
spite； too； of the wintry sky； the scene which presents itself on
arrival there is ravishing。
A very fairylandbut a fairyland quite different from that of
Stamboul。 For whereas the latter is ranged like a great amphitheatre
above the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmora； here the vast town is
spread out simply； in a plain surrounded by the solitude of the desert
and dominated by chaotic rocks。 Thousands of minarets rise up on every
side like ears of corn in a field； far away in the distance one can
see their innumerable slender pointsbut instead of being simply； as
at Stamboul； so many white spires； they are here complicated by
arabesques； by galleries； clock…towers and little columns； and seem to
have borrowed the reddish colour of the desert。
The flat rocks tell of a region which formerly was without rain。 The
innumerable palm…trees of the gardens； above this ocean of mosques and
houses； sway their plumes in the wind； bewildered as it were by these
clouds laden with cold showers。 In the south and in the west； at the
extreme limits of the view； as if upon the misty horizon of the
plains； appear two gigantic triangles。 They are Gizeh and Memphisthe
eternal pyramids。
At the north of the town there is a corner of the desert quite
singular in its characterof the colour of bistre and of mummywhere
a whole colony of high cupolas； scattered at random； still stand
upright in the midst of sand and desolate rocks。 It is the proud
cemetery of the Mameluke Sultans； whose day was done in the Middle
Ages。
But if one looks closely； what disorder； what a mass of ruins there
are in this townstill a little fairylikebeaten this evening by the
squalls of winter。 The domes； the holy tombs； the minarets and
terraces； all are crumbling： the hand of death is upon them all。 But
down there； in the far distance； near to that silver streak which
meanders through the plains； and which is the old Nile； the advent of
new times is proclaimed by the chimneys of factories； impudently high；
that disfigure everything； and spout forth into the twilight thick
clouds of black smoke。
The night is falling as we descend from the esplanade to return to our
lodgings。
We have first to traverse the old town of Cairo； a maze of streets
still full of charm； wherein the thousand little lamps of the Arab
shops already shed their quiet light。 Passing through streets which
twist at their caprice； beneath overhanging balconies covered with
wooden trellis of exquisite workmanship； we have to slacken speed in
the midst of a dense crowd of men and beasts。 Close to us pass women；
veiled in black； gently mysterious as in the olden times； and men of
unmoved gravity； in long robes and white draperies； and little donkeys
pompously bedecked in collars of blue beads； and rows of leisurely
camels； with their loads of lucerne； which exhale the pleasant
fragrance of the fields。 And when in the gathering gloom； which hides
the signs of decay； there appear suddenly； above the little houses； so
lavishly ornamented with mushrabiyas and arabesques； the tall aerial
minarets； rising to a prodigious height into the twilight sky； it is
still the adorable East。
But nevertheless； what ruins； what filth； what rubbish！ How present is
the sense of impending dissolution！ And what is this： large pools of
water in the middle of the road！ Granted that there is more rain here
than formerly； since the valley of the Nile has been artificially
irrigated； it still seems almost impossible that there should be all
this black water； into which our carriage sinks to the very axles； for
it is a clear week since any serious quantity of rain fell。 It would
seem that the new masters