DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0034
le A THOUSAND MILES UP THE NILE.
famous mosques of Damascus and Constantinople having,
on the contrary, been Christian churches, betray evidences
of adaptation. In Saint Sophia, the space once occupied
by the figure of the Redeemer may be distinctly traced in
the mosaic work of the ajjsis, filled in with gold tessera of
later date; while the magnificent gates of the great
mosque at Damascus are decorated, among other Christian
emblems, with the sacramental chalice. But the mosque
of Sultan Hassan, built by En Nasir Hassan in the high
and palmy days of the Memlook rule, is marred by no
discrepancies. For a mosque it was designed, and a
mosque it remains. Too soon it will be only a beautiful
ruin.
A number of small streets having lately been demolished
in this quarter, the approach to the mosque lies across a
desolate open space littered with debris, but destined to bo
laid out as a public square. With this desirable end in
view, some half-dozen workmen were lazily loading as
many camels with rubble, which is the Arab way of cart-
ing rubbish. If they persevere, and the minister of pub-
lic works continues to pay their wages with due punctu-
ality, the ground will perhaps get cleared in eight or ten
years' time.
Driving up with some difficulty to the foot of the great
steps, which were crowded with idlers smoking and sleep-
ing, we observed a long and apparently fast-widening
fissure reaching nearly from top to bottom of the main
wall of the building, close against the minaret. It looked
like just such a rent as might be caused by a shock of
earthquake, and, being still new to the east, we wondered
the government had not set to work to mend it. We had
yet to learn that'nothing is ever mended in Cairo. Here,
as in Constantinople, new buildings spring up apace, but
the old, no matter how venerable, are allowed to molder
away, inch by inch, till nothing remains but a heap of
ruins.
Going up the steps and through a lofty hall, up some
more steps and along a gloomy corridor, we came to the
great court, before entering which, however, we had to
take off our boots and put on slippers brought for the
purpose. The first sight of this court is an architectural
surprise. It is like nothing one has seen before, and its
beauty equals its novelty. Imagine an immense marble
famous mosques of Damascus and Constantinople having,
on the contrary, been Christian churches, betray evidences
of adaptation. In Saint Sophia, the space once occupied
by the figure of the Redeemer may be distinctly traced in
the mosaic work of the ajjsis, filled in with gold tessera of
later date; while the magnificent gates of the great
mosque at Damascus are decorated, among other Christian
emblems, with the sacramental chalice. But the mosque
of Sultan Hassan, built by En Nasir Hassan in the high
and palmy days of the Memlook rule, is marred by no
discrepancies. For a mosque it was designed, and a
mosque it remains. Too soon it will be only a beautiful
ruin.
A number of small streets having lately been demolished
in this quarter, the approach to the mosque lies across a
desolate open space littered with debris, but destined to bo
laid out as a public square. With this desirable end in
view, some half-dozen workmen were lazily loading as
many camels with rubble, which is the Arab way of cart-
ing rubbish. If they persevere, and the minister of pub-
lic works continues to pay their wages with due punctu-
ality, the ground will perhaps get cleared in eight or ten
years' time.
Driving up with some difficulty to the foot of the great
steps, which were crowded with idlers smoking and sleep-
ing, we observed a long and apparently fast-widening
fissure reaching nearly from top to bottom of the main
wall of the building, close against the minaret. It looked
like just such a rent as might be caused by a shock of
earthquake, and, being still new to the east, we wondered
the government had not set to work to mend it. We had
yet to learn that'nothing is ever mended in Cairo. Here,
as in Constantinople, new buildings spring up apace, but
the old, no matter how venerable, are allowed to molder
away, inch by inch, till nothing remains but a heap of
ruins.
Going up the steps and through a lofty hall, up some
more steps and along a gloomy corridor, we came to the
great court, before entering which, however, we had to
take off our boots and put on slippers brought for the
purpose. The first sight of this court is an architectural
surprise. It is like nothing one has seen before, and its
beauty equals its novelty. Imagine an immense marble