DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0218
200 A. THOUSAND MILES UP THE NILE.
point history is vague * and the graffiti of the time are
silent. We only know for certain that the old went out
and the new came in; and that where the resurrected
Osiris was wont to be worshiped according to the most
sacred mysteries of the Egyptian ritual, the resurrected
Christ was now adored after the simple fashion of the
primitive Coptic church.
And now the holy island, near which it was believed no
fish had power to swim or bird to fly and upon whose soil
no pilgrim might set foot without permission, became all
at once the common property of a populous community.
Courts, colonnades, even terraced roofs, were overrun with
little crude brick dwellings. A small basilica was built at
the lower end of the island. The portico of the great
temple was converted into a chapel and dedicated to
St. Stephen. " This good work," says a Greek inscription
traced there by some monkish hand of the period, "was
done by the well-beloved of God, the Abbot-Bishop Theo-
dore." Of this same Theodore, whom another inscription
styles " the very holy father," we know nothing but his
name.
The walls hereabout are full of these fugitive records.
"The cross has conquered and will ever conquer," writes
one anonymous scribe. Others have left simple signatures;
as, for instance: " I, Joseph," in one place and " I, Theo-
dosius of Nubia," in another. Here and there an added
word or two give a more human interest to the autograph.
So, in the pathetic scrawl of one who writes himself
"Johannes, a slave," we seem to read the story of a life
in a single line. These Coptic signatures are all followed
by the sign of the cross.
The foundation of the little basilica, with its apse toward
the east and its two doorways to the west, are still trace-
able. Wo set a coiqile of our sailors one day to clear away the
rubbish at the lower end of the nave, and found the font—
a rough-stone basin at the foot of a broken column.
It is not difficult to guess what Phila? must have been like
in the days of Abbot Theodore and his flock. The little ba-
silica, we may be sure, had a cluster of mud domes upon
the roof; and I fancy, somehow, that the abbot and his
* The Emperor Justinian is credited witb the mutilation of the
sculptures of the larjje temple; but the ancient worship was probably
only temporarily supended. in his time.
point history is vague * and the graffiti of the time are
silent. We only know for certain that the old went out
and the new came in; and that where the resurrected
Osiris was wont to be worshiped according to the most
sacred mysteries of the Egyptian ritual, the resurrected
Christ was now adored after the simple fashion of the
primitive Coptic church.
And now the holy island, near which it was believed no
fish had power to swim or bird to fly and upon whose soil
no pilgrim might set foot without permission, became all
at once the common property of a populous community.
Courts, colonnades, even terraced roofs, were overrun with
little crude brick dwellings. A small basilica was built at
the lower end of the island. The portico of the great
temple was converted into a chapel and dedicated to
St. Stephen. " This good work," says a Greek inscription
traced there by some monkish hand of the period, "was
done by the well-beloved of God, the Abbot-Bishop Theo-
dore." Of this same Theodore, whom another inscription
styles " the very holy father," we know nothing but his
name.
The walls hereabout are full of these fugitive records.
"The cross has conquered and will ever conquer," writes
one anonymous scribe. Others have left simple signatures;
as, for instance: " I, Joseph," in one place and " I, Theo-
dosius of Nubia," in another. Here and there an added
word or two give a more human interest to the autograph.
So, in the pathetic scrawl of one who writes himself
"Johannes, a slave," we seem to read the story of a life
in a single line. These Coptic signatures are all followed
by the sign of the cross.
The foundation of the little basilica, with its apse toward
the east and its two doorways to the west, are still trace-
able. Wo set a coiqile of our sailors one day to clear away the
rubbish at the lower end of the nave, and found the font—
a rough-stone basin at the foot of a broken column.
It is not difficult to guess what Phila? must have been like
in the days of Abbot Theodore and his flock. The little ba-
silica, we may be sure, had a cluster of mud domes upon
the roof; and I fancy, somehow, that the abbot and his
* The Emperor Justinian is credited witb the mutilation of the
sculptures of the larjje temple; but the ancient worship was probably
only temporarily supended. in his time.