THEY VISIT THE PYRAMIDS.
THE resolution being thus taken, they set out the next day. They laid
tents upon their camels, being resolved to stay among the Pyramids till
their curiosity was fully satisfied. They travelled gently, turned aside
to everything remarkable, stopped from time to time and conversed with
the inhabitants, and observed the various appearances of towns ruined and
inhabited, of wild and cultivated nature.
When they came to the Great Pyramid they were astonished at the extent of
the base and the height of the top. Imlac explained to them the
principles upon which the pyramidal form was chosen for a fabric intended
to co-extend its duration with that of the world: he showed that its
gradual diminution gave it such stability as defeated all the common
attacks of the elements, and could scarcely be overthrown by earthquakes
themselves, the least resistible of natural violence. A concussion that
should shatter the pyramid would threaten the dissolution of the
continent.
They measured all its dimensions, and pitched their tents at its foot.
Next day they prepared to enter its interior apartments, and having hired
the common guides, climbed up to the first passage; when the favourite of
the Princess, looking into the cavity, stepped back and trembled.
“Pekuah,” said the Princess, “of what art thou afraid?”
“Of the narrow entrance,” answered the lady, “and of the dreadful gloom.
I dare not enter a place which must surely be inhabited by unquiet souls.
The original possessors of these dreadful vaults will start up before us,
and perhaps shut us in for ever.” She spoke, and threw her arms round
the neck of her mistress.
“If all your fear be of apparitions,” said the Prince, “I will promise
you safety. There is no danger from the dead: he that is once buried
will be seen no more.”
“That the dead are seen no more,” said Imlac, “I will not undertake to
maintain against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages and of
all nations. There is no people, rude or learned, among whom apparitions
of the dead are not related and believed. This opinion, which perhaps
prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only
by its truth: those that never heard of one another would not have agreed
in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. That it is
doubted by single cavillers can very little weaken the general evidence,
and some who deny it with their tongues confess it by their fears.
“Yet I do not mean to add new terrors to those which have already seized
upon Pekuah. There can be no reason why spectres should haunt the
Pyramid more than other places, or why they should have power or will to
hurt innocence and purity. Our entrance is no violation of their
privileges: we can take nothing from them; how, then, can we offend
them?”
“My dear Pekuah,” said the Princess, “I will always go before you, and
Imlac shall follow you. Remember that you are the companion of the
Princess of Abyssinia.”
“If the Princess is pleased that her servant should die,” returned the
lady, “let her command some death less dreadful than enclosure in this
horrid cavern. You know I dare not disobey you—I must go if you command
me; but if I once enter, I never shall come back.”
The Princess saw that her fear was too strong for expostulation or
reproof, and, embracing her, told her that she should stay in the tent
till their return. Pekuah was not yet satisfied, but entreated the
Princess not to pursue so dreadful a purpose as that of entering the
recesses of the Pyramids. “Though I cannot teach courage,” said Nekayah,
“I must not learn cowardice, nor leave at last undone what I came hither
only to do.”