Egypt (La Mort de Philae)

across a pale evening sky, whose mere aspect makes you cold. A wintry wind, raw and bitte

dy, 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, wh

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 aspec

eems 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

a large fortified courtyard, the crenellated walls of which shut out our further view. Soldiers are on guard there-and how unexpected are su

d; there is nothing, whether in the lines of its architecture or in the details of its ornamentation, to suggest the art of the Arabs-a purer a

ade: the same sanctified gloom, into which the stained glass of the narrow windows casts a splendour as of precious stones; the same extreme distanc

old: 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 pr

ithal one of the greatest sovereigns of modern history. There he lies behind a grating of gold, of complic

ly faded, and profusely embroidered with dull gold. Two long green palms freshly cut from some date-tree in the neighbourhood ar

rists, 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 sho

l 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

turned into a barrack for the army of occupation. English soldiers, indeed, meet us at every turn, smoking their pipes in the idleness of th

e tourists of the agencies, and we meet again our friends of the mosque, who have preceded us hither-the gentlemen with the loud voices, the bellowing guide and the cackling lady. Some soldie

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 p

ses, 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

e and of mummy-where a whole colony of high cupolas, scattered at random, still stand upright in the midst of s

inarets 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

descend from the esplanad

n 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, wh

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 of this land, albeit the cost of annual upkeep has risen in their han

vulgar: the houses of "The Arabian Nights" give place to tasteless Levantine buildings; electric lamps begi

the whole world comes to disport itself in the so-called fashionable seasons. But in these quarters, on the other hand, which belong to the foreigners and to the Egyptians rallied

iumph of imitation, of mud walls plastered so as to look like stone; a medley of all styles, rockwork, Roman, Gothic, New Art, Pharaonic, and, above all, the pretentious a

ne damsels, who seek by their finery to imitate their fellows of the Paris boulevards, but who b

hey realise that their forebears have left to them an inalienable patrimony of art, of architecture and exquisite refinement; and tha

elligence! When I see the things that are here, see them with the fresh eyes of a stranger, landed but yesterday upon this soil, impr

rve not only your traditions and your admirable Arab language, but also the grace and mystery that used to characterise your town, the refined luxury of your dwelling-houses. It is not a question now of a poet's fancy; your national dignity is at stake. You are Orientals-I