The romance of excavation

by David Masters

Myths that they were the work of the gods became numerous, for the structures were so gigantic that it seemed impossible that puny man could have built them. About their human origin there was no doubt to discerning travellers, but the object in building them was not always so plain.

Long and learned books have been written to show that the Pyramids bore some special astronomical significance; that one of the main passages in the Great Pyramid was built at a certain angle to enable the astronomers of earlier days to watch a certain star pass in its course across the opening in the face of the Pyramid; that the height of the Great Pyramid bore a definite relation to the distance of the earth from the sun; that the base of the Pyramid meant something else. In fact, the Pyramid has been measured in all directions, in all sorts of manners, and these measurements have been made to fit in with pet theories which have been the basis of many books.

There is not the slightest mystery as to what the Pyramids actually are. They are merely tombs. But people have not been content to accept this explanation, perhaps because it is too simple, so they have endowed the Pyramids with all sorts of wonderful meanings which would astound the builders were they to come back from the Fields of the Blessed. Astrologers who puzzled on the meanings of the stars in the heavens claimed the Great Pyramid as peculiarly their own, and pointed out certain coincidences in measurements to support their claim; the astronomers adduced their own reasons for claiming that the Pyramid had some astronomical meaning; Biblical students, on the other hand, who sought the hidden meanings of the Bible, concluded that the Pyramid was definite proof of certain of their own theories.

The Pyramids have indeed been so enwrapped in mystery, by the writings and theories of successive generations, that thousands of people to-day regard them with a sort of religious belief.

Notwithstanding all that has been written on the subject, and the undoubted cleverness with which these theories have been propounded, the Pyramids are only tombs. But they are the most wonderful tombs in the world. They are simple and grand, with the desert sands surging round their bases, while a short distance away the Nile flows along to the blue sea. There is one other tomb without peer, the Taj Mahal, in India, that beautiful dream in marble which Shah Jehan erected in Delhi to the memory of the lady he loved so well. But the Taj is very different—graceful, glorious. Yet the Pyramids, in their simple grandeur, are not without a beauty of their own.

Kings have come and gone, civilizations have bloomed and vanished, the very earth itself has altered since the Pyramids were first built. Whirlwinds have caught up the sands of the desert and used them as a giant sandblast in their attempts to wear away the stone, earthquakes have shattered temples, but on the monuments the forces of Nature have had little effect. The hand of man has wrought more destruction in a few centuries than Nature herself wrought in two or three thousands of years. What man built, man has partly destroyed; yet man, with all his ingenuity for destruction, has done little but touch the outer surface of the Great Pyramid.

THE PYRAMIDS OF GIZEH, ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD, WITH THE GREAT SPHINX IN THE FOREGROUND, LAPPED BY THE ETERNAL SANDS OF THE DESERT

There are nearly eighty Pyramids of different sizes scattered throughout the Nile valley. The greatest and most renowned is that of King Khufu or Cheops, at Gizeh, which originally measured 355 feet 8 inches at the base, and 481 feet 4 inches in height. The base of the Great Pyramid covers well over 12 acres, and an idea of the size of the monument may be gained when it is known that to walk round it means trudging through the sands for more than half a mile.

Over nineteen centuries ago, Julius Cæsar sent from Egypt one of the most famous letters ever written. It was short, but three words: “Veni, Vedi, Veci.” These three words carried a wealth of meaning. They told of a safe journey, of an emperor gazing on the land he was going to conquer, of a successful invasion. “I came, I saw, I conquered,” wrote Cæsar, who in turn was conquered by the beauty of Cleopatra.