egypt- 第18部分

cornfields；　they　are　veiled　in　long　black　draperies。　It　is　the　East

then；　an　African　land；　or　some　oasis　of　Arabia？



The　sun　at　this　moment　is　hidden　from　us　by　a　band　of　clouds；　that

stretches；　right　above　our　head；　from　one　end　of　the　sky　to　the　other；

like　a　long　skein　of　white　wool。　It　is　alone　in　the　blue　void；　and

seems　to　make　more　peaceful；　and　even　a　little　mysterious；　the

wonderful　light　of　the　fields　we　traversethese　fields　intoxicated

with　life　and　vibrant　with　the　music　of　birds；　while；　by　contrast；　the

distant　landscape；　unshaded　by　clouds；　is　resplendent　with　a　more

incisive　clearness　and　the　desert　beyond　seems　deluged　with　rays。



The　pathway　that　we　have　been　following；　ill　defined　as　it　is　in　the

grassy　fields；　leads　us　at　length　under　a　large　ruinous　porticoa

relic　of　goodness　knows　what　olden　dayswhich　still　rises　here；　quite

isolated；　altogether　strange　and　unexpected；　in　the　midst　of　the　green

expanse　of　pasture　and　tillage。　We　had　seen　it　from　a　great　distance；

so　pure　and　clear　is　the　air；　and　in　approaching　it　we　perceive　that

it　is　colossal；　and　in　relief　on　its　lintel　is　designed　a　globe　with

two　long　wings　outspread　symmetrically。



It　behoves　us　now　to　make　obeisance　with　almost　religious　reverence；

for　this　winged　disc　is　a　symbol　which　gives　at　length　an　indication

of　the　place　immediate　and　absolute。　It　is　Egypt；　the　countryEgypt；

our　ancient　mother。　And　there　before　us　must　once　have　stood　a　temple

reverenced　of　the　people；　or　some　great　vanished　town；　its　fragments

of　columns　and　sculptured　capitals　are　strewn　about　in　the　fields　of

lucerne。　How　inexplicable　it　seems　that　this　land　of　ancient

splendours；　which　never　ceased　indeed　to　be　nutritive　and　prodigiously

fertile；　should　have　returned；　for　some　hundreds　of　years　now；　to　the

humble　pastoral　life　of　the　peasants。



Through　the　green　crops　and　the　assembled　herds　our　pathway　seems　to

lead　to　a　kind　of　hill　rising　alone　in　the　midst　of　the　plainsa　hill

which　is　neither　of　the　same　colour　nor　the　same　nature　as　the

mountains　of　the　surrounding　deserts。　Behind　us　the　portico　recedes

little　by　little　in　the　distance；　its　tall　imposing　silhouette；　as

mournful　and　solitary；　throws　an　infinite　sadness　on　this　sea　of

meadows；　which　spread　their　peace　where　once　was　a　centre　of

magnificence。



The　wind　now　rises　in　sharp；　lashing　guststhe　wind　of　Egypt　that

never　seems　to　fall；　and　is　bitter　and　wintry　for　all　the　burning　of

the　sun。　The　growing　corn　bends　before　it；　showing　the　gloss　of　its

young　quivering　leaves；　and　the　herded　beasts　move　close　to　one

another　and　turn　their　backs　to　the　squall。



As　we　draw　nearer　to　this　singular　hill　it　is　revealed　as　a　mass　of

ruins。　And　the　ruins　are　all　of　a　kind；　of　a　brownish…red。　They　are

the　remains　of　the　colonial　towns　of　the　Romans；　which　subsisted　here

for　some　two　or　three　hundred　years　（an　almost　negligible　moment　of

time　in　the　long　history　of　Egypt）；　and　then　fell　to　pieces；　to　become

in　time　mere　shapeless　mounds　on　the　fertile　margins　of　the　Nile　and

sometimes　even　in　the　submerging　sands。



A　heap　of　little　reddish　bricks　that　once　were　fashioned　into　houses；

a　heap　of　broken　jars　or　amphoraemyriads　of　themthat　served　to

carry　the　water　from　the　old　nourishing　river；　and　the　remains　of

walls；　repaired　at　diverse　epochs；　where　stones　inscribed　with

hieroglyphs　lie　upside　down　against　fragments　of　Grecian　obelisks　or

Coptic　sculptures　or　Roman　capitals。　In　our　countries；　where　the　past

is　of　yesterday；　we　have　nothing　resembling　such　a　chaos　of　dead

things。



Nowadays　the　sanctuary　is　reached　through　a　large　cutting　in　this　hill

of　ruins；　incredible　heaps　of　bricks　and　broken　pottery　enclose　it　on

all　sides　like　a　jealous　rampart。　Until　recently　indeed　they　covered

it　almost　to　its　roof。　From　the　very　first　its　appearance　is

disconcerting：　it　is　so　grand；　so　austere　and　gloomy。　A　strange

dwelling；　to　be　sure；　for　the　Goddess　of　Love　and　Joy。　It　seems　more

fit　to　be　the　home　of　the　Prince　of　Darkness　and　of　Death。　A　severe

doorway；　built　of　gigantic　stones　and　surmounted　by　a　winged　disc；

opens　on　to　an　asylum　of　religious　mystery；　on　to　depths　where　massive

columns　disappear　in　the　darkness　of　deep　night。



Immediately　on　entering　there　is　a　coolness　and　a　resonance　as　of　a

sepulchre。　First；　the　pronaos；　where　we　still　see　clearly；　between

pillars　carved　with　hieroglyphs。　Were　it　not　for　the　large　human　faces

which　serve　for　the　capitals　of　the　columns；　and　are　the　image　of　the

lovely　Hathor；　the　goddess　of　the　place；　this　temple　of　the　decadent

epoch　would　scarcely　differ　from　those　built　in　this　country　two

thousand　years　before。　It　has　the　same　square　massiveness。



And　in　the　dark　blue　ceilings　there　are　the　same　frescoes；　filled　with

stars；　with　the　signs　of　the　Zodiac；　and　series　of　winged　discs；　in

bas…relief　on　the　walls；　the　same　multitudinous　crowd　of　people　who

gesticulate　and　make　signs　to　one　another　with　their　handseternally

the　same　mysterious　signs；　repeated　to　infinity；　everywherein　the

palaces；　the　hypogea；　the　syringes；　and　on　the　sarcophagi　and　papyri

of　the　mummies。



The　Memphite　and　Theban　temples；　which　preceded　this　by　so　many

centuries；　and　far　surpassed　it　in　grandeur；　have　all　lost；　in

consequence　of　the　falling　of　the　enormous　granites　of　their　roofs；

their　cherished　gloom；　and；　what　is　the　same　thing；　their　religious

mystery。　But　in　the　temple　of　the　lovely　Hathor；　on　the　contrary；

except　for　some　figures　mutilated　by　the　hammers　of　Christians　or

Moslems；　everything　has　remained　intact；　and　the　lofty　ceilings　still

throw　their　fearsome　shadows。



The　gloom　deepens　in　the　hypostyle　which　follows　the　pronaos。　Then

come；　one　after　another；　two　halls　of　increasing　holiness；　where　the

daylight　enters　regretfully　through　narrow　loopholes；　barely　lighting

the　superposed　rows　of　innumerable　figures　that　gesticulate　on　the

walls。　And　then；　after　other　majestic　corridors；　we　reach　the　heart　of

this　heap　of　terrible　stones；　the　holy　of　holies；　enveloped　in　deep

gloom。　The　hieroglyphic　inscriptions　name　this　place　the　〃Hall　of

Mystery〃　and　formerly　the　high　priest　/alone；　and　he　only　once　in　each

year/；　had　the　right　to　enter　it　for　the　performance　of　some　now

unknown　rites。



The　〃Hall　of　Mystery〃　is　empty　to…day；　despoiled　long　since　of　the

emblems　of　gold　and　precious　stones　that　once　filled　it。　The　meagre

little　flames　of　the　candles　we　have　lit　scarcely　pierce　the　darkness

which　thickens　over　our　heads　towards　the　granite　ceilings；　at　the

most　they　only　allow　us　to　distinguish　on　the　walls　of　the　vast

rectangular　cavern　the　serried　ranks　of　figures　who　exchange　among

themselves　their　disconcerting　mute　conversations。



Towards　the　end　of　the　ancient　and　at　the　beginning　of　the　Christian

era；　Egypt；　as　we　know；　still　exercised　such　a　fascination　over　the

world；　by　its　ancestral　prestige；　by　the　memory　of　its　dominating

past；　and　the　sovereign　permanence　of　its　ruins；　that　it　imposed　its

gods　upon　its　conquerors；　its　handwriting；　its　architecture；　nay；　even

its　religious　rites　and　its　mummies。　The　Ptolemies　built　temples　here；

which　reproduce　those　of　Thebes　and　Abydos。　Even　the　Romans；　although

they　had　already　discovered　the　/vault/；　followed　here　the　primitive

models；　and　continued　those　granite　ceilings；　made　of　monstrous　slabs；

placed　flat；　like　our　beams。　And　so　this　temple　of　Hathor；　built

though　it　was　in　the　time　of　Cleopatra　and　Augustus；　on　a　site

venerable　in　the　oldest　antiquity；　recalls　at　first　sight　some

conception　of　the　Ramses。



If；　however；　you　examine　it　more　closely；　there　appears；　particularly

in　the　thousands　of　figures　in　bas…relief；　a　considerable　divergence。

The　poses　are　the　same　indeed；　and　so　too　are　the　traditional

gestures。　But　the　exquisite　grace　of　line　is　gone；　as　well　as　the

hieratic　calm　of　the　expressions　and　the　smiles。　In　the　Egyptian　art

of　the　best　periods　the　slender　figures　are　as　pure　as　the　flowers

they　hold　in　their　hands；　their　muscles　may　be　indicated　in　a　precise

and　skilful　manner；　but　they　remain；　for　all　that；　immaterial。　The　god

Amen　himself；　the　procreator；　drawn　often　with　an　absolute　crudity；

would　seem　chaste　compared　with　the　hosts　of　this　temple。　For　here；　on

the　contrary；　the　figures　might　be　those　of　living　people；　palpitating

and　voluptuous；　who　had　posed　themselves　for　sport　in　these

consecrated　attitudes。　The　throat　of　the　beautiful　goddess；　her　hips；

her　unveiled　nakedness；　are　portrayed　with　a　searching　and　lingering

realism；　the　flesh　seems　almost　to　quiver。　She　and　her　spouse；　the

beautiful　Horus；　son　of　Iris；　contemplate　each　other；　naked；　one

before　the　other；　and　their　laughing　eyes　are　intoxicated　with　love。



Around　the　holy　of　holies　is　a　number　of　halls；　in　deep　shadow　and

massive　as　so　many　fortresses。　They　were　used　formerly　for　mysterious

and　complicated　rites；　and　in　them；　as　everywhere　else；　there　is　no

corner　of　the　wall　but　is　overloaded　with　figures　and　hieroglyphs。

Bats　are　asleep　in　the　blue　ceilings；　where　the　winged　discs；　painted

in　fresco；　look　like　flights　of　birds；　and　the　hornets　of　the

neighbouring　fields　have　built　their　nests　there　in　hundreds；　so　that

they　hang　like　stalactites。



Several　staircases　lead　to　the　vast　terraces　formed　by　the　great　roofs

of　the　templestaircases　narrow；　stifling　and　dimly　lighted　by

loopholes　that　reveal　the　heart…breaking　thickness　of　the　walls。　And

here　again　are　the　inevitable　rows　of　figures；　carved　on　all　the

walls；　in　the　same　familiar　attitudes；　they　mount　with　us　as　we

ascend；　making　all　the　time　the　self…same　signs　one　to　another。



As　we　emerge　on　to　the　roofs；　bathed　now　in　Egyptian　sunlight　and

swept　by　a　cold　and　bitter　wind；　we　are　greeted　by　a　noise　as　of　an

aviary。　It　is　the　kingdom　of　the　sparrows；　who　have　built　their　nests

in　thousands　in　this　temple　of　the　com