Una de Esfinges

Esfinge (Σφίγξ, sphinx) es un sustantivo griego construido sobre la raíz del verbo σφίγγω (sphíngo), que significa «sujetar, apretar, cerrar». La esfinge es, por tanto, «la que sujeta, la que aprieta (y ahoga)».

Aunque la palabra esfinge es griega, fueron los egipcios quienes imaginaron por primera vez un monstruo con cuerpo de león y cabeza humana.

La esfinge original egipcia es casi siempre masculina y representa simbólicamente al Faraón, que reúne en su figura divina la inteligencia humana y la bravura de un león (pensemos en aquel otro rey legendario, Ricardo Corazón de León, o en el Rey León de Disney).

Su representación más conocida es la gigantesca esfinge de Gizeh, de enorme antigüedad (h. 2520-2494 a.C.) e impresionantes dimensiones (20 metros de altura y 72 de largo). Los arquitectos que edificaron las pirámides encontraron en el terreno los restos de una vieja cantera y la aprovecharon para levantar un gran monumento al faraón Kefrén, de la IV Dinastía.

Para darle forma de león acostado al cuerpo se utilizó yeso pintado, y en la piedra que se colocó sobre la base se tallaron las facciones del faraón con atributos regios: la cobra real en la frente, barba postiza en el mentón y un velo cubriendo el cabello. Sólo el último sobrevive.

Hacia el año 1400 a.C. la esfinge había quedado sepultada. Un joven príncipe, Tutmosis, soñó que la esfinge le haría rey si la desenterraba. Lo hizo y, siendo ya faraón, hizo inscribir entre sus patas la historia de su sueño. En época romana se excavó un santuario en el interior de la esfinge. Posteriormente, la estatua fue víctima de las agresiones de los cristianos y musulmanes, que rompieron su nariz y dañaron sus ojos. Los árabes la bautizaron como Abu al-Hôl, «padre del terror». A pesar del maltrato sufrido, la esfinge permanece entre las pirámides vigilando sus secretos. El escritor irlandés Lord Dunsany (1878-1957), uno de los padres de la literatura maravillosa moderna, dedicó a la esfinge de Gizeh un texto profético de extraña belleza:

THE SPHINX AT GIZEH 

I saw the other day the Sphinx's painted face. She had painted her face in order to ogle Time. And he has spared no other painted face in all the world but hers. Delilah was younger than she, and Delilah is dust. Time hath loved nothing but this worthless painted face. I do not care that she is ugly, nor that she has painted her face, so that she only lure his secret from Time. Time dallies like a fool at her feet when he should be smiting cities. Time never wearies of her silly smile. There are temples all about her that he has forgotten to spoil. I saw an old man go by and time never touched him. Time that has carried away the seven gates of Thebes! She has tried to bind him with ropes of eternal sand, she had hoped to oppress him with the Pyramids. He lies there in the sun with his foolish hair all spread about her paws. If she ever learns his secret we will put out his eyes, so that he shall find no more our beautiful things — there are lovely gates in Florence that I fear he will carry away. We have tried to bind him with song and with old customs, but they only held him for a little while, and he has always smitten us and mocked us. When he is blind he shall dance to us and make sport. Great clumsy Time shall stumble and dance, who like to kill little children and can hurt even the daisies no longer. Then shall our children laugh at him who slew Babylon's winged bulls and smote great numbers of the elves and fairies, when he is shorn of his hours and his years. We will shut him up in the Pyramid of Cheops, in the great chamber where the sarcophagus is. Thence we will lead him out when we give our feasts. He shall ripen our corn for us and do menial work. We will kiss thy painted face, O Sphinx, if thou wilt betray to us Time. And yet I fear that in his ultimate anguish he may take hold blindly of the world and the moon and slowly pull down upon him the House of Man.