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egypt-第13部分

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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 nebulous times of the

first martyrs。



*****



The simple Church of St。 Sergius is a relic hidden away and almost

buried in the midst of a labyrinth of ruins。 Without a guide it is

almost impossible to find your way thither。 The quarter in which it is

situated is enclosed within the walls of what was once a Roman

fortress; and this fortress in its turn is surrounded by the tranquil

ruins of 〃Old Cairo〃which is to the Cairo of the Mamelukes and the

Khedives; in a small degree; what Versailles is to Paris。



On this Easter morning; having set out from the Cairo of to…day to be

present at this mass; we have first to traverse a suburb in course of

transformation; upon whose ancient soil will shortly appear numbers of

these modern horrors; in mud and metalfactories or large hotels

which multiply in this poor land with a stupefying rapidity。 Then

comes a mile or so of uncultivated ground; mixed with stretches of

sand; and already a little desertlike。 And then the walls of Old

Cairo; after which begins the peace of the deserted houses; of little

gardens and orchards among the ruins。 The wind and the dust beset us

the whole way; the almost eternal wind and the eternal dust of this

land; by which; since the beginning of the ages; so many human eyes

have been burnt beyond recovery。 They keep us now in blinding

whirlwinds; which swarm with flies。 The 〃season〃 indeed is already

over; and the foreign invaders have fled until next autumn。 Egypt is

now more Egyptian; beneath a more burning sky。 The sun of this Easter

Sunday is as hot as ours of July; and the ground seems as if it would

perish of drought。 But it is always thus in the springtime of this

rainless country; the trees; which have kept their leaves throughout

the winter; shed them in April as ours do in November。 There is no

shade anywhere and everything suffers。 Everything grows yellow on the

yellow sands。 But there is no cause for uneasiness: the inundation is

at hand; which has never failed since the commencement of our

geological period。 In another few weeks the prodigious river will

spread along its banks; just as in the times of the God Amen; a

precocious and impetuous life。 And meanwhile the orange…trees; the

jasmine and the honeysuckle; which men have taken care to water with

water from the Nile; are full of riotous bloom。 As we pass the gardens

of Old Cairo; which alternate with the tumbling houses; this continual

cloud of white dust that envelops us comes suddenly laden with their

sweet fragrance; so that; despite the drought and the bareness of the

trees; the scents of a sudden and feverish springtime are already in

the air。



When we arrive at the walls of what used to be the Roman citadel we

have to descend from our carriage; and passing through a low doorway

penetrate on foot into the labyrinth of a Coptic quarter which is

dying of dust and old age。 Deserted houses that have become the

refuges of outcasts; mushrabiyas; worm…eaten and decayed; little

mousetrap alleys that lead us under arches of the Middle Ages; and

sometimes close over our heads by reason of the fantastic bending of

the ruins。 Even by such a route as this are we conducted to a famous

basilica! Were it not for these groups of Copts; dressed in their

Sunday garb; who make their way like us through the ruins to the

Easter mass; we should think that we had lost our way。



And how pretty they look; these women draped like phantoms in their

black silks。 Their long veils do not completely hide them; as do those

of the Moslems。 They are simply placed over their hair and leave

uncovered the delicate features; the golden necklet and the half…bared

arms that carry on their wrists thick twisted bracelets of virgin

gold。 Pure Egyptians as they are; they have preserved the same

delicate profile; the same elongated eyes; as mark the old goddesses

carved in bas…relief on the Pharaonic walls。 But some; alas; amongst

the young ones have discarded their traditional costume; and are

arrayed /a la franque/; in gowns and hats。 And such gowns; such hats;

such flowers! The very peasants of our meanest villages would disdain

them。 Oh! why cannot someone tell these poor little women; who have it

in their power to be so adorable; that the beautiful folds of their

black veils give to them an exquisite and characteristic distinction;

while this poor tinsel; which recalls the mid…Lent carnivals; makes of

them objects that excite our pity!



In one of the walls which now surround us there is a low and shrinking

doorway。 Can this be the entrance to the basilica? The idea seems

absurd。 And yet some of the pretty creatures in the black veils and

bracelets of gold; who were in front of us; have disappeared through

it; and already the perfume of the censers is wafted towards us。 A

kind of corridor; astonishingly poor and old; twists itself

suspiciously; and then issues into a narrow court; more than a

tho
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