Cleopatras Needles The Lost Obelisks of Egypt

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In the half-century between 183 1 and 1881 three
massive obelisks left Egypt for new lands. Prior
to these journeys, the tae large obelisk moved
was the Vatican obelisk in 1586 — one of the great
engineering achievements of the Renaissance.
Roman emperors moved more than a dozen, but
left no records of how they did it. The nineteenth-
century engineers entrusted with transporting the
obelisks across oceans had to invent new methods,
and they were far from certain that they would
work. As the three obelisks, bound for Paris,
London and New York, sailed towards their new
homes, the world held its breath. Newspapers
reported the obelisks’ daily progress, complete
with dramatic illustrations of the heroic deeds of
the engineers and crews struggling under nearly
impossible conditions. When the obelisks finally
arrived safely in their new homes, bands played
Cleopatra’s Needle Waltz and silver obelisk pencils
dangled from fashionable ladies’ necks.
This turbulent era, caught up in obelisk mania,

is recreated by Bob Brier in all its glory. Amid
astounding tales of engineering dexterity and
naval endurance, the individuals involved in
transporting the obelisks and receiving them in
their future homes are brought to life through
their letters and diaries, newspaper articles and
illustrations. Written by a renowned Egyptologist
and author, this compelling book will fascinate all
those interested in Egypt, its iconic monuments
and the history of great endeavour.
HER
_ Wry
Miimette Pune
Wilmett blic Library

1242 ette Avenue
Wi e, 1160091
56-5025
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2022 with funding from
Kahle/Austin Foundation
https://archive.org/details/cleopatrasneedleOOO0O0brie
Cleopatras Needles
Bloomsbury Egyptology
Series editor: Nicholas Reeves
Ancient Egyptian Technology and Innovation, lan Shaw

Ancient Egyptians at Play, Walter Crist, Anne-Elizabeth Dunn-Vaturi
and Alex De Voogt
Archaeologists, Tourists, Interpreters, Rachel Mairs and Maya Muratov
Asiatics in Middle Kingdom Egypt, Phyllis Saretta
Burial Customs in Ancient Egypt, Wolfram Grajetzki
Court Officials of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom, Wolfram Grajetzki
The Egyptian Oracle Project, edited by Robyn Gillam and Jeffrey Jacobson
Hidden Hands, Stephen Quirke
The Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt, Wolfram Grajetzki
Performance and Drama in Ancient Egypt, Robyn Gillam
The Unknown Tutankhamun, Marianne Eaton-Krauss
Cleopatra’s Needles
The Lost Obelisks of Egypt
Bob Brier
Bloomsbury Academic
An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Bae OOO webs Ue CR
LONDON « OXFORD « NEW YORK * NEW DELHI « SYDNEY
Bloomsbury Academic
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BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published 2016

Reprinted 2016
© Bob Brier, 2016
Bob Brier has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission
in writing from the publishers.
No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting

on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be
accepted by Bloomsbury or the author.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: HB: 978-1-47424-293-6

ePDF: 978-1-47424-295-0
ePub: 978-1-47424-294-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
Series: Bloomsbury Egyptology
Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

Printed and bound in the United States of America
ae.
BR
For Richard, Colette, and Alberta, my merry band of translators

Contents
Acknowledgments viii
Introduction x
1 How to Quarry an Obelisk 1

2 Rome's Obelisks 29
3. God's Architect 64
4 Napoleon's Obelisk 93
5 Cleopatra’s Needle Sails for London 126
6 ‘The Oldest Skyscraper in New York 156
7 Postscript on the Obelisks 221
Notes 229
Bibliography 231
Index 233
Acknowledgments
When the ancient Egyptians created a monumental statue, it was not the
work of a single sculptor. Tomb paintings show teams of artists working
simultaneously on a single statue. One sculptor chisels away on a shoulder,
another works on a knee, while yet another sands an area smooth. I have had
so much help with this book that it is more like an ancient Egyptian statue than
one author’s work. The variety of the kinds of help I have received is amazing.
Perhaps most interesting and rewarding has been in translating.
When I first came to the Long Island University forty years ago, Richard
Auletta, a professor in the Department of Foreign Languages, and I began
translating texts that I needed for my research. It started with some now-
forgotten article in a language I didn't know (I seem to remember Swedish)
and Richard came to my assistance. We enjoyed the collaboration so much,
that for thirty years we met once a week to translate. More recently, two other
colleagues in Foreign Languages, Professors Colette Sumner and Alberta
Barga, joined us. The obelisk book had plenty of primary sources in French,
Italian, Latin, etc., that needed translating, and many pleasant afternoons were
spent in my office over tea and obelisks. Even more recently, an old friend,
Armand Thieblot, an engineer and French speaker, caught the obelisk fever
and, though unable to join us in person, translated Léon de Joannis’s long-
forgotten Campagne pittoresque du Luxor. A big “Thanks!” to all.
My wife, Pat Remler, served as the “cruel but fair” first editor, and frequently
explained that what I had written didn't make sense. She also took almost all
the photos for the book, both in Egypt and in Rome on our great obelisk quest.
When we discovered we needed a few more Rome photos, Vivian Mosby
supplied wonderful images. All the vintage photos came from my own
collection with the exception of the tip of the New York obelisk photos
that were unearthed by William Joy. The photo of the baton used by the
Freemasons at the installation of the New York Obelisk’s pedestal was kindly
supplied by the Chancellor Robert R. Livingston, Masonic Library of Grand
Lodge, New York, N.Y.
Acknowledgments ix
Mary Chipman, friend of many years, collaborator on all things Egyptian,

and a woman of many talents, served as unpaid, but not unappreciated, “techie.”
She spent countless hours becoming a master of Photoshop so she could
enhance the nineteenth-century images, crop and size the more recent photos,
and decide what goes in and what doesn't. I owe Mary, big time.
Armand Thieblot, aside from translating, read the manuscript, caught many
of my engineering errors, and improved the text in many ways.
Special thanks go to the Central Park Conservancy who cleaned and
conserved the New York obelisk and who erected the scaffold that enabled me
to examine the tip of the obelisk. George Wheeler generously shared his written
report and other information; Marie Warsh explained the technical details of
the cleaning and conservation; and Matthew Reiley unearthed old photos and
other information that helped solve the mystery of the obelisk’s broken tip.
At the typesetter, Kathy John gracefully supervised the manuscript as it
went through publication and was remarkably tolerant of my lack of computer
skills. Ian Howe caught my spelling errors and ruthlessly hunted down and
annihilated my inconsistencies. Thank you all.
Introduction
It took mea long time to fall in love with obelisks. For years I had seen them in
front of Egyptian temples, read about them, lectured about them in my classes,
but they just never grabbed me. Then I saw the granddaddy of all obelisks.
If you had to pick the most remarkable object ever produced in ancient Egypt,
what would you choose? Tutankhamen’s gold mask? Karnak Temple? The bust of
Queen Nefertiti? The Great Pyramid? For most people, including Egyptologists,
it would be difficult to single one out of all the wonderful objects. For me it’s no
problem. It isn’t even close. It’s an obelisk. Lying in a quarry near Aswan is an
unfinished obelisk that I believe is the most amazing creation of the ancient
Egyptians. It was going to be the largest obelisk ever, by far. It weighs more than
1,000 tons. That's right, more than 2,000,000 pounds, more than two jumbo jets,
and they were going to stand it up and balance it on a pedestal. I have been to the
quarry more than 100 times and every time I am amazed. How were they going
to move it? Stand it up? It is this obelisk that cemented my love affair with obelisks.
The stonemasons who were going to move and erect this obelisk were heroes.
The tales of engineering marvels and obelisks don’t end in ancient Egypt.
They continue in Roman times and into the Renaissance. In the nineteenth
century three very large ancient obelisks left Egypt, destined for Paris, London,
and New York. The men who transported them faced tremendous difficulties
merely trying to move what the ancient Egyptians had created. Lives were lost,
one obelisk was lost at sea, and one nearly fell and broke. Some of the men who
moved the obelisks left accounts of their trials and tribulations. One was so
depressed by the loss of the lives of his men that he never wrote about moving
the obelisk and we must trace his actions through newspaper accounts and other
sources. The stories of these obelisks in exile are no less remarkable than ones
that took place in ancient Egyptian quarries. The events in this book span more
than thirty centuries, but it is best to start at the beginning, in ancient Egypt.
How to Quarry an Obelisk
Each year millions of tourists pour into Egypt to see its stone monuments—
pyramids, tombs, temples, and obelisks. The ancient Greeks were awed by the
Egyptians’ skill with stone. Herodotus, the Greek “father of history,’ visited
Egypt around 450 BC and was proud to proclaim,
“We Greeks learned to build
in stone from the Egyptians.” In both the ancient and modern worlds, Egypt
was famous for her masonry, but it was not always that way. Before there were
pharaohs, there were no stone buildings. Early Egyptians constructed their
houses of either reeds bundled together or mud bricks. The choice of material
was determined by Egypt's geography.
Egypt is a desert with a river running right down its middle. While the
Nile provided enough water to irrigate crops, it didn’t provide enough water
for forests, so there was little wood for building. Before the pharaohs,
even boats were made of reeds bundled together. The lack of wood greatly
restricted building and transportation. You can't sail the Mediterranean to
trade for goods in a papyrus skiff. But this all changed with the advent of the
pharaohs.
Before the pharaohs, ancient Egypt was divided into two kingdoms, Upper
and Lower Egypt. Contrary to intuition, Upper Egypt is in the south, below
Lower Egypt. This is because the Nile flows from south to north, so you go “up
river” when you go south. With Egypt divided into two kingdoms, sometime
around 3200 BC, a king from the south named Narmer marched north,
defeated the northern king, and unified Egypt into the first nation in history.
The story of Narmer’s conquest is told on the Narmer Palette, Egypt's equivalent
of Magna Carta. Not only does it record Egypt's beginning as a nation, it is
probably the first historical document in the world.
2 Cleopatra’s Needles
Many Egyptians owned palettes on which they ground cosmetics. Take

a little duck grease, add some pulverized malachite, mix them together on
your palette and you had green eye shadow. If you wanted traditional
black eyeliner, substitute galena for the malachite. Because of their function,
palettes were smooth, providing a flat surface for grinding and blending.
Sometimes they were carved in the shape of a fish or turtle, but for the
most part they were simple affairs. The Narmer Palette is different. It is very
elaborate, almost every inch is decorated, and it tells the story of Egypt's first
pharaoh.
The palette has pride of place on the first floor, just past the entrance of
Cairo’s Egyptian Museum. Carved from a single piece of slate, the palette
is about two feet high and three inches thick. On the front side Narmer is
shown wearing the white crown of the south as he defeats his northern
counterpart. On the reverse side, Narmer leads a triumphal parade and wears
the red crown of the north. He is the first king of both Upper and Lower Egypt.
Two mythological creatures with their long necks intertwined symbolize this
Figure 1.1 The front of the Narmer Palette shows the conquering Narmer wearing
the white crown of Upper Egypt. On the reverse, Narmer wears the red crown of
Lower Egypt. He is now the King of unified Egypt.
How to Quarry an Obelisk 3
unification; Egypt is a single nation and Narmer is its king. For 3,000 years the
icon of Egypt would be the pharaoh smiting his enemy, just as it appeared on
the Narmer Palette.
The first building in stone
It is one of those marvelous quirks of history that permits us to know the first
significant stone building in the world, when it was built, and even the name of
the genius who conceived it more than 4,000 years ago. It was a tomb unlike
any other and, to understand just how remarkable it was, we must know
something about burials in ancient Egypt.
The earliest Egyptian burials were simple sand pits. Scoop away sand, place
the deceased and some of his prized possessions for use in the afterlife in the
pit and cover with sand. It is an easy, but impermanent way to dispose of the
dead. Eventually winds might blow the sand away; the body is revealed, and
perhaps destroyed by jackals. As a solution to the problem, Egyptians began
constructing large rectangular mud brick markers above their graves.
Egyptologists call these rectangles mastabas, which is Arabic for bench because
they resemble benches often seen in front of modern Egyptian homes.
Eventually these mastabas became more elaborate, with chambers inside.
The deceased was still buried beneath the mastaba that protected the burial,
but now the mastaba also served as a chapel where the family of the deceased
could pay its respects. Narmer was buried beneath a mud brick mastaba, as
were the early pharaohs who followed him. Then, at the beginning of the Third
Dynasty, an architect named Imhotep began building a mastaba for his pharaoh,
Zoset.
Like the pharaohs’ before him, Zoser’s mastaba was large, about the size of a
small warehouse, but it was different in one important aspect: it was made of
stone. From mud bricks to stone blocks was a bold leap. It was one thing to
make a few thousand mud bricks, quite another matter to quarry stone blocks.
When Imhotep began Zoser’s mastaba, the Egyptians had been manufacturing
bricks for centuries. It was an easy matter to mix Nile mud with some straw for
strength and then press the mixture into a rectangular wood mold. Lift the
mold, let the brick dry in the sun, and they had building material that would
Figure 1.2 Rectangular structures called mastabas were placed on top of burials in
early Egypt.
last for centuries in a desert climate. Few skills are involved in making mud
bricks; many are needed for quarrying stone blocks.
Special tools had to be created to cut the blocks from the quarry—craftsmen
had to fashion chisels, hammers, and sleds to pull the stones. And what kind of
stone should be used for a mastaba? Egypt has a variety of stones in different
colors and densities, each with different properties. Imhotep selected limestone,
probably for three reasons: 1) It is plentiful in Saqqara, the area where the
mastaba was built. 2) In Imhotep’s time, the only metal they had for tools was
copper, which is soft, too soft to cut almost any stone but limestone. 3) Once
limestone is cut out of a quarry, it hardens, so it is stronger when it reaches the
building site than when it was first cut.
While building Zoser’s mastaba, Egyptian workmen learned to quarry,
dress, and transport stone. If you look closely at the blocks in the mastaba, you
can see that the workmen were just feeling their way, learning on the job. The
blocks are small, not much larger than the mud bricks they were accustomed
to making. Two strong men could heft one block into place. They hadn't yet
learned how to cut and move large blocks. It would take a thousand years
before their descendants would be quarrying an obelisk that weighed 1,000

tons. Another sign that they were new to working stone is that the edges of the
blocks aren't squared off at proper right angles. Still, the pharaoh’s stone
mastaba was a remarkable advance and must have been the pride of all Egypt.
But Imhotep was just beginning.
Egypt's first pyramid
As the mastaba neared completion, Zoser was in good health and clearly would
not need his burial place for a while. At this point, Imhotep had the idea to
make something even more special; he would build a second stone mastaba on
top of the first, creating a two-tiered structure. Clearly everyone was getting
more and more comfortable with building in stone, learning as they went
along. Over the course of the next twenty years, the mastaba continued to
grow; the bottom was enlarged and a total of four higher levels were added to
the original mastaba, creating the Step Pyramid of Saqqara. At 200 feet the
pyramid was the tallest building on the planet. Stone had given the Egyptians
the ability to reach for the sky.
Figure 1.3 The Step Pyramid of Saqqara is the world’s first building in stone.
While the pyramid grew, Imhotep had his workmen add a large stone
enclosure wall around the pyramid. Inside this wall, just a short walk from the
pyramid, he built chapels and shrines of stone where Zoser could perform
religious rituals for eternity. One can almost see Imhotep becoming giddy with
his new ability to work in this medium of stone. Everyone is getting more and
more confident. The enclosure wall and chapels are beautifully carved and
polished. Over the course of this twenty-year project they learned the craft of
fine stonework. They even created a life-sized limestone statue of Zoser, the
first life-size statue in Egypt. Today millions of tourists visit it in the Cairo
Museum, just a few steps from Narmer’s Palette.
Pyramid mania
Once the skills of working in stone were honed, building became a national
mania. Pyramid after pyramid was constructed for successive pharaohs, each
trying to outdo his predecessor. After a few step pyramids, a pharaoh—or more
probably his architect—decided to fill in the steps and attempt the first true
pyramid at a remote site in the desert called Meidum. The Meidum Pyramid
isn't just the first attempt at a true pyramid; it is the first pyramid with a burial
chamber not beneath the pyramid, but in the pyramid. A burial chamber inside
a pyramid presents a major engineering problem. With thousands of tons of
stone pressing down upon the ceiling from above, how do you keep a large
ceiling from cracking? The answer was corbeling. With a corbeled ceiling, the
walls narrow as they get higher. As you build the wall out of stone blocks, each
level is placed about six inches in from the one beneath it, so it overlaps and
looks like an upside-down staircase. Thus, when you get to the top, the block
spanning the walls and forming the ceiling is only a few inches wide. A block
spanning only a few inches will not crack under the weight above it.
Less than a hundred years after the Meidum Pyramid, the Great Pyramid
would be towering above the Giza Plateau. Building had come a long way very
quickly, but it wasn't always successful. As architects attempted to build burial
chambers inside pyramids rather than beneath them, they ran into problems.
Walls cracked, pyramids had to be abandoned, but each step of the way new
skills and techniques were developed.
How to Quarry an Obelisk y
Figure 1.4 Inside the Red Pyramid at Dashour. Corbeling—stepping each stone level
inwards—solved the problem of how to span an internal space inside a pyramid.
Disaster in the desert
[love to take my students to the Bent Pyramid at Dashur. Here I can show them
that the Egyptians did not always get it right. The Bent Pyramid was built for
the Pharaoh Sneferu and had two burial chambers. One was probably intended
for Sneferu and the other for his Great Wife, Queen Hetepheres, but neither was
buried inside. The pyramid was abandoned without ever having been used, and
we know why. About two-thirds up the face of the pyramid, the angle of incline
bends, giving the pyramid its distinctive shape and name. The bend is the result
of one of the costliest engineering disasters in history. Pyramids are never
constructed on sand; sand shifts, blocks move, and the pyramid moves.
Pyramids are built on bedrock, and the Bent Pyramid is no exception. However,
one corner of the pyramid rested on a layer of gravel, making that one corner
unstable. During the early stages of construction there were no problems, but as
the pyramid grew taller and its mass increased, the weight pressed down on the
blocks on the unstable corner, causing them to shift. This movement was
transmitted inside the pyramid and the walls of the upper burial chamber
cracked and started moving inward. In a desperate attempt to stop the room
from imploding, the ancient engineers wedged huge fifty-foot cedar of Lebanon
logs between opposite walls to keep them from collapsing. This stabilized the
pyramid, but clearly it was no longer suitable for Sneferu’s burial. The pyramid
could, however, serve as his symbolic burial, one of the two burials that pharaohs
now had, one for Upper Egypt and one for Lower Egypt. The pyramid was
completed as quickly and inexpensively as possible, and this is why its angle was
changed. Having a gentler slope at the top greatly reduced the number of blocks
in the top third of the pyramid and also reduced the weight on the fragile burial
chamber. You can just imagine the discussion between the architects when the
burial chamber cracked. “You tell the pharaoh.” “No, you tell the pharaoh.” We
don't know Sneferu’s reaction, but he didn’t give up on pyramids; he built
another one at Dashur, just a mile from the unused Bent Pyramid.
Figure 1.5 The Bent Pyramid at Dashur was intended as a true pyramid but because
it was unstable, its shape was altered.
Figure 1.6 The Bent Pyramid’s burial chamber was imploding so huge logs were
wedged between the walls to prevent disaster.
Because this pyramid gleams red in sunlight, it is known as the Red Pyramid
and it is here that we can see the beginning of the road that would lead to
obelisks. The Red Pyramid, like the others before it, is built of limestone blocks
cut from quarries with copper chisels. Its two burial chambers, however, are
made of huge granite blocks, and this is where a mystery begins. Granite is
very different from limestone. Limestone quarries are ancient seabeds formed
from shells and skeletal fragments of marine organisms piling on top of each
other and compressing for millions of years. Limestone varies considerably in
quality but all examples are sedimentary and basically calcium carbonate. As
found in Egypt, limestone is fairly homogeneous, soft, and splits easily, which
is why it can be worked with copper. Granite, however, is another story. Granite
is an igneous rock, formed from the cooling of molten rock (magma) beneath
the earth’s surface. As it cools and solidifies, mineral grains form and produce
a matrix. Three minerals usually compose granite: 1) quartz, which is very
hard, light gray, and translucent; 2) mica, usually formed in tiny flecks
with quartz; 3) feldspar, which if alkali, will be pinkish red, like the granite
found in Egypt.
Because granite is composed of different hard materials, it is not easy to
split; there are no regular fault lines. If you take a sharp copper chisel to its
surface and hit the chisel with a hammer, after two or three strikes the chisel
will be blunt and the granite will be virtually unchanged. How did Egyptian
stonemasons, having only copper chisels, quarry the granite blocks for the Red
Pyramid’s two chambers? Some of the blocks are five feet high and weigh
nearly ten tons. To answer that question, it will be best to look at the pyramid
that followed the Red Pyramid—The Great Pyramid of Giza.
The Great Pyramid of Giza
The Great Pyramid is the big daddy of them all, not just for its size, but also for
its complexity. Built for the pharaoh Khufu, the Great Pyramid has three burial
chambers and passages connecting them, all of which presented challenges to
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Figure 1.7 The weight above the Great Pyramid’s burial chamber is diverted from
the chamber’s ceiling by huge limestone rafters above.
the pyramid’s architect, Hemienu. As we have seen, the problem of internal

chambers had been solved by corbeling. But Hemienu wanted a flat ceiling and
this was where things became dangerous. We take flat ceilings for granted, but
inside an ancient Egyptian pyramid it was a miracle. How do you keep the
ceiling from collapsing with thousands of tons of stone pressing down on it?
Nothing, not even granite, can support such a weight.
The flat ceiling in the burial chamber in the Great Pyramid is formed by
nine granite beams that are 24 feet long and weigh between 47 and 63 tons
each. Massive stones, but still, Hemienu believed the ceiling could not support
the weight of the pyramid above. His solution was to make sure that the beams
didn’t support the weight above; they form a false ceiling. Above the ceiling he
created a small chamber whose roof is also made of nine granite beams. Above
this “relieving chamber” is a second one and then above that are two more
chambers till we reach huge limestone rafters at the top of the last chamber.
Only the rafters support the weight above and, because they are angled, the
weight is distributed into the pyramid’s solid masonry. The roof of the burial
chamber supports nothing.
The Aswan granite quarry
In all, the burial chamber and the relieving chambers required more than sixty
granite beams averaging nearly fifty tons each, more granite than Egypt had
quarried in its entire history. Hemienu must have dispatched a small army to
the granite quarries in Aswan to produce the beams. They left no written
account of how they quarried the beams, but it is certain that they didn't use
copper chisels—copper is far too soft to cut granite. One clue we have to their
method is the hundreds of black stones that can be found, even today, in the
Aswan quarries. Made of dolorite, a stone slightly harder than granite, they
were used as pounders, a crude and not very efficient method of pounding
beams out of the quarry bed. The quarry master first drew an outline of a beam
on the floor of the quarry. Then, perhaps twenty workmen ringed the outline,
crouched down with their pounders and began dropping them on the outline.
Each time the pounder hit the granite, tiny flakes of mica, feldspar, and schist
chipped off the quarry floor. After hours and hours of pounding, the outline
Figure 1.8 Dolorite balls were used to pound obelisks out of the granite quarry.
would have been ringed with indentations looking as if a giant had come with
a melon baller and scooped out balls of granite.
As the workers continued pounding, a deep trench formed around the
beam, so deep that the men were now totally below ground level. Working
shoulder to shoulder in cramped spaces, the pounding continued till the men
were more than five feet down in the trench. Now the beam was free from the
quarry on all but one side—the bottom, which was still attached to the bedrock.
This backbreaking work took its toll on the health of the workers. Aside from
squatting,
q g bent over for hours at a time, they ve were creating g clouds of fine
Figure 1.9 The granite quarry at Aswan still shows the effects of blocks having been
pounded out.
granite dust that they breathed into their lungs. New Yorkers have learned first
hand about “first responders’ syndrome,’ where breathing dust created by the
collapse of the Twin Towers ruined the health of many who worked at the 9/11
site. Quarry workers toiled in similar conditions for years on end.
Once the trench around the beam was completed, the workers faced the
dangerous task of freeing the beam from the bedrock. At this point they
started tunneling from both sides, going beneath the beam, pounding
horizontally with their dolorite balls. Eventually both sides met, creating a
three-foot-wide tunnel under the beam. Next, a second tunnel was pounded
out. With two tunnels completed, two granite blocks, only slightly smaller than
the tunnels, were slid into the tunnels, filling them. Next several more tunnels
were created and filled with blocks. These blocks supported the beam as
the rest of the bottom was pounded away, freeing the beam completely from
the bedrock.
The freed beam was still a work in progress; all its surfaces were quite rough,
the result of the pounding. You can get a good idea of what a rough beam
looked like by wandering through the Aswan Quarry. All along the quarry’s
floor you can see “melon scoops” left where workers began pounding a beam
or obelisk from the quarry. Smoothing the beam’s surfaces took hundreds
of man-hours. A wet slurry of silica (sand) and granite flakes was placed on
the uppermost surface of the beam and used like sandpaper. A small
rectangular block of stone would be held in the worker’s hand, placed on top
of the slurry, and moved back and forth over the beam. With each back and
forth movement a bit of the beam’s surface was abraded. After days of this, one
surface became smooth, so the beam was turned and the next side sanded to
near perfection. Dozens of huge beams were prepared in this manner for the
roof of Khufu’s burial chamber and for the roofs of the relieving chambers
above it. In addition to the beams, the walls of the burial chamber itself were
made of exactly 100 huge granite blocks, which added to the labor at the Aswan
quarries.
The unfinished obelisk
So it was during the Pyramid Age, at the Aswan Quarry, that Egyptians learned
how to work large blocks of granite. Centuries later these skills created elegant
obelisks soaring more than ten stories into the sky. In the same quarry that
provided Khufu’s beams lies the largest obelisk ever attempted. It has been
roughed out on all but one side; its underside is still attached to the bedrock.
The “unfinished obelisk,’ as it is called, is our greatest clue to how ancient
Egyptian engineers cut and erected 500-ton obelisks with such precision that
they rest on their pedestals with nothing but gravity keeping them from
toppling. Unfinished projects are the best way to learn how something was
oe
Figure 1.10 The unfinished obelisk is the largest block of granite ever quarried.
16 Cleopatra’ Needles
made. King Horemheb’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings was never completed
and reveals virtually every stage of tomb building. Some walls have only a
painted red grid that guided artists when drawing figures of the gods and
pharaoh. Another wall shows how an artist has sketched out scenes and
hieroglyphs in black. Some walls reveal where the master artist came and
corrected in red roughly drawn figures. Still other parts of the tomb show
figures fully carved in raised relief, giving them an added third dimension.
Because the tomb is unfinished it is a textbook on how to prepare a king's tomb.
The unfinished obelisk is no less instructive; it is a time machine transporting
us back to the moment the obelisk was abandoned.
The obelisk is so large that it makes a cameo appearance in Cecil B. DeMille’s
1923 silent film The Ten Commandments (Charlton Heston is in the 1956
remake). In one scene we see Israelites toiling under the whip of a cruel
taskmaster, pulling a large block of stone up an inclined ramp. That incline is
the unfinished obelisk! The obelisk is 137 feet long and weighs more than
1,000 tons—heavier than two jumbo jets. Had it been completed it would have
weighed more than twice any other obelisk ever erected in Egypt. This was a
project of heroic proportions, even for Egypt, and the only reason it is
unfinished is because it cracked before it was freed from the quarry. It was a
disaster for the men who worked on it, but good fortune for us because it tells
the detailed story of its manufacture.
Egyptian obelisks are single pieces of granite, but a perfect block more than
100 feet long is not easy to find. The surface of a granite quarry is irregular,
strewn with large boulders, so, to get a long piece, trial pits had to be dug deep
into the quarry to see if beneath the surface a suitable block could be found.
On one side of the unfinished obelisk we can see the trial pit descending more
than 20 feet. As workers pounded it out they watched for cracks in the stone. If
they found any, they would have moved on and dug another test pit. If no
fissures were found and the quarry master decided to cut the huge obelisk
there, the job of removing the rough quarry surface began in earnest. Using
dried papyrus stalks as fuel, small fires were lit on top of the irregular surface
to be removed. The fire fractured the granite’s surface, making it possible to
chip away the surface with copper chisels. In the early 1920s, when the quarry
was first excavated, Rex Engelbach, an Englishman who was the Chief Inspector
of Antiquities for Upper Egypt, found piles of burnt granite chips, the remains
How to Quarry an Obelisk ley
of fires set by workmen 3,000 years earlier. Once the surface was smoothed,
workers began pounding out the obelisk. Because the obelisk is unfinished we
can reconstruct with some certainty how many workers were needed, where
they were positioned, and what were the various stages of pounding as the
obelisk neared completion.
Like all obelisks, the unfinished obelisk tapers slightly towards its top. At its
base, the obelisk is slightly more than 13 feet, so the trench pounded out
around the obelisk had to be deeper than that. The trench that now surrounds
the obelisk is more than 20 feet deep, 13 feet for the side and another 7 feet to
tunnel beneath the obelisk when freeing it from the bedrock. As you look into
the trench you can see long individual grooves descending to bedrock where
each man squatted with his pounder. Count the grooves and you have a pretty
good idea of the number of men who were simultaneously working on the
obelisk—130, a sizeable work gang. These poor souls were probably prisoners
“sent to the granite.”
Today, in Upper Egypt, when workers on an excavation are pulling
something heavy, the rais, or foreman, chants a line of a work song and the
Figure 1.11 Each groove in the trench along the obelisk is where a worker crouched
and pounded out the obelisk.
workmen sing the reply. In this way efforts are coordinated and everyone pulls
at the same time. Although obelisk workers were prisoners, one can imagine an
overseer, standing above on the obelisk, chanting down to the workers so all
pounded in unison. At some point they would have to reverse their positions,
to face the opposite direction to pound the other side of the groove. All this
pounding created granite chips and powder, so periodically the men would
have been told to stop to sweep out the grooves. Otherwise they would be
pounding on the debris and not the bedrock.
When Rex Engelbach first excavated the quarry it was full of chips and
debris and the obelisk was partially obscured. When the gigantic obelisk was
fully cleared, Engelbach had two questions: 1) How long did it take to create
such a mammoth? 2) How were the ancient engineers going to move it out of
the quarry? To answer the first question Engelbach began pounding. Taking
one of the ancient pounders he found in the quarry, he set to work on a block
of granite. After an hour’s work he had created a depression about a fifth of an
inch in the granite. But the area his depression covered was only about one
quarter of the surface of one of the grooves the men worked in. So it would
actually take four hours to go down a fifth of an inch in the entire groove.
Engelbach thought the ancient workers could have done it a bit faster because
they were more experienced, so instead of a fifth of an inch each hour they
might have gone about a third of an inch. This would mean that every three
hours the men bashed out an inch on one quarter of their space. Every twelve
hours they would go down an inch. If they worked a twelve-hour day
(remember these are prisoners) they would complete one inch each day. The
depth of the trench is about 20 feet (240 inches), so the trench would be
completed in 240 days or a little more than seven months. This doesn’t include
undercutting the obelisk to free it completely from the quarry. That is more
difficult than creating the trench because the pounding had to be horizontal
and you are fighting gravity rather than just dropping the pounder. If we allow
nine months for this task, that gives the workers a year and a half to create the
obelisk, but the job is not over. They still have to polish it. Because the surface
area is so great, this would have added at least another month or two, bringing
the entire project close to two years. Some of this is speculation, but a unique
pharaoh has left us an account of how long it took to produce an obelisk and
we should look at it in some detail.
Hatshepsut’s obelisks
The only ancient account we have of how long it took to make an obelisk comes
from King Hatshepsut, a woman who ruled Egypt as king. Hatshepsut was the
daughter of a king (Tuthmosis 1), wife of a king (Tuthmosis II), and stepmother
of a king (Tuthmosis III). When her husband died, her stepson, Tuthmosis III,
was just a young boy, so Hatshepsut became regent, ruling in his place till he
came of age. However, after several years as regent, she declared herself king,
wore the pharaoh’s false beard of authority, and ruled Egypt as king for more
than a decade. Like other Eighteenth Dynasty pharaohs, she built a tomb in the
Valley of the Kings, constructed a mortuary temple where she would be
worshipped after her death, and erected obelisks, including four at Karnak
Temple. During the New Kingdom, when Hatshepsut reigned, obelisks were
almost always quarried in pairs. They were placed at both sides of the entrances
to the temples the pharaohs built. Their inscriptions usually gave the full five
names of the pharaoh and a standard religious text. Of Hatshepsut’s four at
Karnak, one is still standing, the tallest left in Egypt. The beautifully carved
hieroglyphs on its four sides give Hatshepsut'’s kingly titles and proclaim that
she is the daughter of the God Amun.
Like all other large obelisks, Hatshepsut’s rests on a single block of granite
serving as a pedestal, but, unlike most pedestals, hers bear fascinating
inscriptions. She boasts that her two obelisks were cut out of the Aswan Quarry
in just seven months, so that gives us an idea that a pair was normally quarried
in more than seven months, or she wouldn't be boasting about it. The unfinished
obelisk weighs more than both of Hatshepsut’ obelisks combined, so
Engelbach’s estimate of a bit over seven months for just pounding the trenches
seems reasonable. But how were they going to get the obelisk out of the quarry
and onto a boat on the Nile for transport to its final destination?
We can imagine how the unfinished obelisk was freed from the bedrock,
but imagining how the workers were going to move it out of the quarry is
far more difficult. The obelisk still rests surrounded by granite, deep in its
trench, below the surface of the quarry. There is no obvious path on which the
obelisk could have been hauled out of the quarry. There can be no doubt that
the ancient engineers had a plan for moving the obelisk once it was quarried; it
just isn’t clear. It appears as if either the obelisk would have to be raised to
the level of the quarry or an incredible amount of granite would have to be

removed to create a clear path to the river. Engelbach was the foremost expert
on Egyptian stonework and transportation of stones, and he had difficulty
coming up with an explanation. The solution he proposed involves raising
the obelisk.
Engelbach was convinced that massive levers were used to raise the obelisk
out of its trench—probably cedars of Lebanon at least 30 feet long. Placed
under the obelisk, with 100 men pulling down on each lever, and with twenty
levers on each side, they rocked the obelisk back and forth. As it rocked in one
direction, workers slipped small granite blocks under the edge that was off the
ground, then the process was repeated for the other side. With many repetitions
of this process, the obelisk was slowly raised to the level of the quarry above it.
With the obelisk now at ground level, a smooth path could be created on the
surface by heating the rock to fracture it and then chiseling out a smooth track.
In this way, a downward slope from the quarry to the desert below was readied
for the obelisk’s journey to the Nile. Today the modern city of Aswan has
grown up around the quarry, but in Engelbach’s day one could still see long
embankments just north of the quarry that had been prepared to ease the way
for various pharaohs’ obelisks coming out of the quarry. But how were these
obelisks pulled? The unfinished obelisk poses a special problem because it is so
big, but we do have records of how the Egyptians moved very large stones.
Djehuti-hotep’s colossal statue is moved
Our best representation of Egyptians hauling a large stone is painted on a wall

of the tomb of Djehuti-hotep, who governed one of the provinces of Egypt
about 500 years after the pyramids were built and just before Egyptian pharaohs
began erecting large obelisks. The tomb painting shows a colossal statue of
Djehuti-hotep being pulled by 172 men. The statue rests on a sled, and a worker
standing by its feet pours water or oil in front to lubricate the way. An overseer
stands on the lap of the statue, clapping the rhythm to which the men pull.
Moving the statue was not easy, and required considerable coordination. In the
painting we see men carrying large wooden beams, perhaps replacement parts
in case the sled breaks.
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Figure 1.12 The colossal statue of Djehuti-hotep was pulled on a sled by 172 men.
Illustration courtesy of Bakha. The artist who did the original drawing of this scene
was a young Howard Carter, who later discovered the tomb of Tutankhamen.
The hieroglyphs on the tomb wall tell the story of moving the statue and
suggest everyone was happy to participate. Some divisions of the military were
called to help, and, in addition, priests hauled on the ropes, locals pitched in,
and even the old and infirm. “The aged one among them leaned upon the boy,
the strong-armed was with the trembler (palsied). Their hearts rose, their arms
became strong.” The statue was thirteen cubits (twenty-two feet) high and
weighed approximately fifty-eight tons; a large block of stone, but not nearly as
heavy as the average obelisk, which weighed in at about 250 tons.
Still, there is no reason why the same techniques used to move Djehuti-
hotep’s statue couldn't have been ramped up to move 250-ton obelisks. As a
matter of fact, we have a scene of two large obelisks on sleds at Hatshepsut’s
mortuary temple. During the New Kingdom, the era of the great obelisks, most
pharaohs built mortuary temples where they would be worshipped after death.
They covered the walls of these temples with scenes of the events in their
reigns of which they were most proud. Ramses the Great's mortuary temple
shows the Battle of Kadesh in great detail, complete with Ramses in his chariot
almost single-handedly holding off the Hittite army till support came. Ramses
III (no relation to Ramses the Great) was proud of all the donations he
presented to the temple of Amun, so the walls of his mortuary temple contain
lists of all the cattle, linen, jars of oils and perfumes, and food that he
contributed. Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple, called Deir el Bahri, is unlike any
other and depicts events not seen anywhere else in Egypt.
on Cleopatra’s Needles
“Deir el Bahri” is modern Arabic for “Place of the Northern Monastery.”

Centuries after Hatshepsut died, Christian monks established monasteries on
the west bank of Thebes. Some made Hatshepsut’s temple their living quarters.
Eventually the monastery was abandoned and almost disappeared beneath
centuries of accumulated rubble. At the end of the nineteenth century
Egyptology was becoming a respected discipline and more and more
researchers came to excavate, not for treasure, but for knowledge. Deir el Bahri
was one of the first sites excavated by members of London's newly founded
Egypt Exploration Fund. Their director of excavations, Edouard Naville, was
primarily interested in inscriptions, not objects, and was keen on clearing the
temple to learn more about the mysterious Queen/King Hatshepsut. Naville's
excavation team included a young artist named Howard Carter who would go
on to become an archaeologist and discover Tutankhamen’s tomb in the Valley
of the Kings, just a few miles from Deir el Bahri. Carter's job was to record the
scenes on the temple’s walls as they emerged from centuries of accumulated
rubble.
The temple is most famous for its scenes of a trading expedition Hatshepsut
sent to the land of Punt, somewhere around modern Somalia or Eretria. The
carvings on the walls are the first ethnographic depictions of sub-Saharan
Africa. We see thatched houses on stilts, the obese Queen of Punt, and Egyptian
ships being loaded with frankincense and myrrh, ivory and ebony, and exotic
animal skins. These are the scenes that draw millions of tourists each year to
Deir el Bahri, but there is another unique scene in an isolated part of the temple
that is rarely visited by tourists. It is the only place in Egypt where you can see
obelisks being moved.
Hatshepsut was proud of her trading expedition to Punt, but she was also
proud of the obelisks she quarried, so she decorated her temple with scenes of
two of them being transported from Aswan to Karnak Temple. The carvings
are badly damaged, and you must study them for a while before your eyes can
discern what is going on, but it is quite a remarkable scene. Most amazing is
that both obelisks were placed on one boat. Each obelisk weighs more than 300
tons; why risk losing them both if the ship goes down? Wouldnt it be easier to
have separate boats for each? Think about the logistics of maneuvering two
obelisks on the deck of one ship. The obelisks are not side by side; they are
shown end to end, making their loading even more difficult—the ship has to
be twice as long. This is such a remarkable scene that some archaeologists have
suggested that the obelisks are not really end to end; they are just shown that
way because perspective would have made it difficult to show the two if they
were side by side. In Robert Partridge’s Transportation in Ancient Egypt he says,
“In the reliefs, the obelisks are shown end to end on the deck of the barge, but
this is assumed to be an artistic convention, which demanded that both
obelisks be clearly seen.”' I think this is wrong. Ancient Egyptian shipwrights
really did construct boats that long to transport obelisks. We have confirmation
of this in the tomb of Ineni, the architect who served Hatshepsut’s father,
Tuthmosis I. One wall of his tomb contains his autobiography, where he boasts
of his greatest accomplishments. Ineni is most famous for having constructed
the first tomb in the Valley of the Kings for his pharaoh. This was a great
innovation and he says it was done secretly,
“no one seeing, no one hearing.” He
was also proud of overseeing the erection of two of Tuthmosis’s obelisks, and
declares that he “built the august boat of 120 cubits in length, 40 cubits in its
width in order to transport these obelisks.” The boat was approximately 206
feet long, so the carvings of Hatshepsut’s end-to-end obelisks were no quirk of
Egyptian perspective. They were almost certainly moved on one long boat, just
like her father’s. Her boat would have been even larger than Tuthmosis I’s. His
obelisks were about 75 feet long, but Hatshepsut'’s were nearly 20 feet longer, so
her boat would have been more than 250 feet long.
The scenes on the wall at Deir el Bahri provide us with wonderful details of
moving the granite obelisks. We see the two obelisks, still on their giant sleds on
which they were hauled from the quarry to the Nile. The obelisks lie on the deck
with their bases facing each other, the points of the obelisks on the bow and
stern of the ship. To ensure that the ships deck doesn't collapse under the
immense weight, the captain has run six thick ropes from the bow, over the
masts, and down to the stern. This is called a “hog truss” and takes stress off
the deck. Usually Egyptian ships have one rudder at the stern for steering, but
this barge is so large it has two. A true barge, it was not self-powered, but was
controlled and steered by three rows of nine tugboats each. The ships are not all
identical. The three ships closest to the barge have elaborate cabins, decorated
with the king’s cartouches and paintings of the gods. These three boats housed
the officers and officials overseeing the transport. They were within hailing
distance of the barge so instructions could be easily conveyed.
Figure 1.13 A pair of Queen Hatshepsut’s obelisks were transported end to end on a
single boat.
Each tug has approximately thirty rowers, so when we add to this the
pilot ships at the head of each column of tugs and all the officers, we have
approximately 1,000 sailors dedicated to bringing King Hatshepsut’s obelisks
north. The great advantage of going north is that they are going with the
current. It might have been impossible to control such a large barge using
sail-power against the current. Still, it was a difficult venture.
They would have moved the obelisks during the season of inundation, when
the Nile was high and there was less chance of being hung up on a sandbar.
Even so, sailors on the pilot ships are shown on the prows of their vessels, long
poles in hand, taking soundings. Three smaller boats, not tied to the three
columns of tugs but shown near the barge, were probably used to communicate
the soundings to the officers on or near the barge. The journey downstream
from Aswan to Thebes took several days but the special moment Hatshepsut
chose to commemorate for eternity was the fleet’s successful arrival at Thebes.
The military is out to parade the landing of the obelisks at Karnak Temple.
Pliny the Elder to the rescue
Hatshepsut has provided us with a record of how her obelisks were transported,
but she does not tell us how they were loaded onto the barge and taken off, and
this was not an easy task. There were no large cranes in ancient Egypt, so the
obelisks weren't hoisted into the air and placed on the deck of the ship. There is
only one ancient account of how an obelisk was loaded onto a barge, but it is not
ancient enough to be reliable. The account comes from Pliny the Elder, a Roman
statesman and military man who lived during the first century AD, so he was
reporting events that took place more than a thousand years before his time.
In the Preface to his Natural History, Pliny says that he covers 20,000
important subjects and has consulted more than 100 authorities. Pliny is,
indeed, encyclopedic, but he isn’t always right. Sometimes his translations
from his Greek sources are a bit off, sometimes he is uncritical of dubious
authors, and sometimes he is just confused, but he is always interesting and has
something to say about almost any topic. In the end, his curiosity killed him.
Pliny was in charge of the Roman fleet at the Bay of Naples when Mt. Vesuvius
erupted on August 23, AD 79. Always gathering information for his next work,
Pliny sailed across the bay to get a closer look at the volcano. When he landed,
poisonous gases killed him almost immediately. He was 57. Pliny loved the
unusual, so it is not surprising that in his Natural History he talks about
Egyptian temples and pyramids and he even gives us an account of how an
obelisk was loaded on a barge.
During Pliny’s lifetime several obelisks were brought from Egypt to Rome
as trophies for the emperors, but the Romans loaded them differently from the
Egyptians. Romans had cranes and winches that could lift an obelisk; the
Egyptians didn't. Pliny is our only ancient source of how an obelisk was loaded
in the time of the pharaohs. He says that once the obelisk was hauled down to
the river, a canal was dug from the river to beneath the obelisk, so the obelisk
now formed a bridge over the canal. Next, two barges that were to carry the
obelisk were brought to the banks of the Nile and loaded with small, one-foot
granite cubes that totaled twice the weight of the obelisk. The barges, now low
in the water because of their heavy loads, were towed under the obelisk and
while in this position the granite cubes were off-loaded. As the ships’ loads
lightened, they rose in the water till they came in contact with the obelisk and
their buoyancy lifted the obelisk off the ground.
When I first read this account I wondered why Pliny was talking about two
barges for one obelisk. How did it work? Was the obelisk half on one deck, half
on the other? Were the barges lashed together? It really didn't make sense to
me. However, when I read Hatshepsut’s account of how she placed two obelisks
on one barge, I knew how Pliny got his account. He had read some earlier
account and misunderstood/mistranslated it. It wasn't saying two barges for
one obelisk; it was one barge for two obelisks. We know the Egyptians did it
that way. But would Pliny’s account of the canal dug under the obelisk still
work for two obelisks on one barge?
Once the first obelisk was on deck, did they load the granite cubes onto the
ship and repeat the operation for the second obelisk? It certainly would have
been more difficult for two. We know they loaded the barge, we just can't be
sure of the exact method. The other unsolved obelisk mystery is what happened
to them once they reached their final destination? How were they off-loaded?
How were they raised to an upright position on their pedestals? Our man Pliny
has something to say about this too, but once again, much is questionable.
We have to remember that Pliny never visited Egypt, so he is relying on
hearsay, hearsay that was more than a thousand years old. He offers his readers
a remarkable and entertaining account of the erecting of one of Ramses the
Great’s obelisks. The first of Pliny’s dubious claims is the size of the obelisk, a
whopping 120 cubits, which would make it more than 200 feet tall, far taller
than even the gigantic unfinished obelisk in the Aswan Quarry. Highly unlikely.
He got the size wrong, but there are other elements to the story that are even
more difficult to accept. He says that Ramses was concerned that the “machine”
they were using to erect the obelisk might not be adequate, so he tied one of his
sons to the top of the obelisk so the workers would be extra careful when
raising the obelisk. It makes a great story, but it is highly unlikely. If you think
about it carefully, you realize that Pliny never gives the details of how the
obelisk was raised; he just mentions the use of a “machine.” I think this is
because he figured they did it the same way as the Romans, with a large scaffold
and winches and capstans—“machines.” But the Egyptians didn’t have winches
and capstans and couldn't have erected their obelisks in the Roman manner.
The best clues we have are the pedestals on which the obelisks once stood.
My students are always amazed when I| show them an obelisk on its pedestal
and then tell them that the only thing keeping the obelisk upright is gravity. It
is a great balancing act. No pins or clamps fix the obelisks to the base. The
pedestals are always single blocks of granite, weighing around 50 tons for
the larger obelisks. When the Romans took their obelisks to Rome, they left
the pedestals behind and these pedestals help us figure out the method used
to erect an obelisk in ancient Egypt.
The pedestals are quite impressive in themselves. Most are taller than me, so
I have spent considerable time crawling on railings, on top of trash baskets,
and on ladders to examine the top surfaces, the ones on which the obelisks
rested. Almost all have a groove running across the top. Why?
Imagine the pedestal is in place in front of the temple where we want the
obelisk. Now we just have to balance a 350-ton granite needle on top of it. A ramp
is built leading up to the pedestal, but high above it, perhaps 100 feet above it. The
obelisk is hauled up the ramp bottom first, till the bottom of the obelisk is above
the pedestal. Next, the obelisk is slowly lowered down the other side of the ramp
till one edge of the obelisk’s bottom rests on the pedestal. Perhaps to control the
descent of the obelisk onto the base, the pit was filled with sand that was slowly
dug out from the bottom, causing the obelisk to descend slowly into position. The
purpose of the groove was to engage the lead edge of the obelisk’s bottom, so it
didn't skid across the pedestal. Once the obelisk’s edge was in the groove, ropes
fixed to the top of the obelisk were used to pull the obelisk upright.
The quarrying, polishing, transportation, and erecting of massive obelisks
in ancient times was a status symbol reserved only for pharaohs, a sign of great
wealth and power. Obelisk building reached its peak during the New Kingdom
(1570-1086 BC) and the great obelisks tourists see today were erected by New
Kingdom pharaohs—Tuthmosis I, Hatshepsut, and Ramses II. After the New
Kingdom, Egypt began a long, slow decline and we don't have any massive
obelisks from this period. At the very end of the decline, Egypt was ruled by
Greek pharaohs, all descended from Alexander the Great's general, Ptolemy.
Figure 1.14 Rex Engelbach’s theory—that obelisks were pulled up a ramp and then
slid onto their bases—is still considered the most probable explanation.
These last pharaohs of Egypt, all named Ptolemy, ruled Egypt for 300 years
(305-30 BC). They built large temples in the Egyptian style, including Dendera,
Edfu, and Kom Ombo, but we don't have remains of obelisks erected in front
of these temples. We do have one small obelisk of this period from Philae
temple (it now stands in England) but it is far smaller than the New Kingdom
obelisks.
With the death of Cleopatra VII, the last Ptolemaic ruler, the Romans took
control of Egypt. The Roman emperors were impressed by the Egyptian
obelisks still standing on their pedestals and viewed them as symbols of power.
Rather than quarry and erect their own in Rome, they carefully lowered
Egyptian obelisks, brought them across the Mediterranean, and re-erected
them in Rome. For the emperors they were trophies of war, and thus began
2,000 years of obelisks in exile.
Rome's Obelisks
During its long history Egypt was invaded, conquered, and vandalized by
foreigners from many directions: the Hyksos, Persians, Kushites, Syrians,
Assyrians, Greeks, Romans, Turks, French, and English, among others. For the
most part, conquerors from the East tended to destroy what they found; those
from the West tended to pillage and loot. Europeans carried home all kinds of
spoils because they were exotic and beautiful, but also as symbols of conquest.
The largest and most visible of these objects were obelisks, and the conquerors
who carried away the most were the Romans.
As we saw in the last chapter, obelisks were difficult to make, move, or erect,
being among the heaviest objects ever moved over land in the pre-industrial
age. The Egyptians created, moved, and erected them using primitive tools
and methods, the details of which are still argued over by academics and
engineers. But by the time of the Roman conquest of Egypt, in the last days
of the Egyptian Empire but the early days of the Roman Empire—the time
of Cleopatra and the Caesars—the technology for moving large loads had
advanced considerably. Nevertheless, moving objects up to 100 feet in
length and weighing more than 350 tons was a daunting task. And then they
had to be placed on their bases. Augustus, who clearly was fascinated by
obelisks, was up to the task. First he moved at least two obelisks within Egypt
to decorate the Caesarium at Alexandria. Then he took it up a notch and built
special transport ships to bring obelisks to Rome, a practice followed by
his successors. Because of their efforts, today Rome has more standing
obelisks than any city in the world—more than Cairo, Alexandria, and Luxor
combined.
We don't know how many obelisks were taken from Egypt, because there
was never an inventory of how many existed in ancient times or where they
stood, but it was dozens. Probably more than two dozen were hauled off by the
Romans with most going to Rome and one to Constantinople. Many lie lost,
buried beneath the streets or buildings of Rome. That sounds odd: How could
something as large as an obelisk be lost beneath the streets of a bustling city?
But we know it is true. Most of the obelisks standing today in Rome were
rediscovered under the city. This chapter will trace the history of the Roman
obelisks that we do know about, starting with the story of how Rome became
involved with Egypt in the first place, conquered it, and turned Egypt into a
possession.
For the three hundred years before the Romans took over, the Ptolemies ran
Egypt into the ground, extracting as much as they could while putting very
little back for the people. The Ptolemies rarely ventured south of their capital
city, Alexandria, and as far as we know only one ever bothered to learn the
language of the country they governed. If you were an Egyptian who wanted to
rise within the bureaucracy, you learned Greek. The last Ptolemy, Cleopatra
VII, was different from her ancestors. She cared about Egypt, learned Egyptian,
visited the temples, participated in religious rituals, and attempted to restore
Egypt to its former greatness. Unfortunately, she shared the throne with her
brother, Ptolemy XIII, who was jealous of his sister and raised an army to
depose her. With a civil war about to break out, powerful Rome entered the
picture.
Caesar and Cleopatra
Egypt was “the bread basket of Rome.” With its fertile soil along the banks of
the Nile, Egypt produced vast amounts of grain, much of it exported to feed
Rome’ growing population. Fearing that civil war would disrupt the flow of
grain to Rome, Julius Caesar was sent to Alexandria to maintain order. By the
time he arrived in Egypt, Cleopatra, fearing an assassination attempt by her
brother, had fled the palace and was raising her own army. However, when she
heard Caesar had arrived she knew she had to return to the palace before
Ptolemy and his advisors convinced Caesar to side with them against her.
This is the point at which the teenage queen made her famous entrance into
the palace concealed in a rolled-up carpet. This is the stuff of legend, and
Rome’ Obelisks 31
it's true, but much of the Cleopatra legend is false. After her death she was
portrayed by the Romans as a beautiful femme fatale, seducing good Roman
men. Contemporary portraits of Cleopatra, however, do not show her to be
particularly beautiful, but she was extremely intelligent, articulate, and spoke
several languages. These talents may have attracted Caesar to this young queen.
Roman women were not usually well educated and certainly none had the
power of an Egyptian queen. As worldly as Caesar was, he had never met a
woman like Cleopatra and was completely captivated.
Caesar returned to Rome, leaving Cleopatra, now on the throne by herself,
and pregnant. (Her brother had conveniently drowned in the Nile.) After she
gave birth to Caesarion—“little Caesar’— Caesar sent for Cleopatra and
Caesarion, shocking Rome. Caesar had a good Roman wife, so what was he
doing with an Egyptian queen? The Roman Senate feared that Caesar was not
just enamored with Cleopatra, but also with the idea of ruling as a god/king
rather than as a citizen of the Roman Republic. Thus, on the “ides of March,’
Caesar was assassinated on the steps of the Senate. Alone, in a city hostile to
her, Cleopatra fled to Egypt with Caesarion.
The death of Caesar disturbed the balance of power in Rome, creating
intrigues. Pompey, the second member of the ruling triumvirate, had been
assassinated on his way to Egypt, so a new triumvirate was formed around
Octavian, the only remaining member. Eventually Marc Antony, a former ally
of Caesar, was selected as a new member of the triumvirate, but it was a
triumvirate that couldn't agree on the course Rome was to take. Marc Antony
defected and formed an alliance with Cleopatra. Their intention was to defeat
Octavian, Rome’s rising star, and conquer the world.
Antony and Cleopatra
The war of Antony and Cleopatra against Octavian ended at the Battle of
Actium, where the ships of the Egyptian fleet were pitted against Octavian's
navy. From the beginning, Octavian’s forces were winning and, as the battle
raged, Cleopatra turned her ship towards Egypt and fled. Antony, seeing her
departure, ordered his ship to follow, leaving his fleet dispirited and soon to be
defeated. Both Antony and Cleopatra made their way back to Alexandria.
Antony, depressed, sulked. Cleopatra, knowing that all was lost, planned for the
future. She knew that Octavian’s troops would soon arrive in the city and that
there was no possibility to resist them. She sent her son Caesarion, and his
tutor, to the Red Sea with a significant portion of Egypt’s treasury. Her hope
was that Caesarion would flee to India and found a new dynasty.
The end of the line
As Octavian approached, Cleopatra barricaded herself inside the palace. She

knew that if she were captured Octavian would bring her back to Rome to be
displayed in chains in a “triumph.” With her handmaidens aid, she committed
suicide, probably by the bite of a cobra smuggled to her in a basket of fruit.
With Cleopatra’s death, the line of Ptolemies ruling Egypt ended. Her son,
Caesarion, betrayed by his tutor, was told it was safe to return to Alexandria.
When Octavian saw the boy his only comment was “One Caesar is enough,”
and he had the boy killed. Antony took his own life, so in a sense it is true that
Cleopatra led both Caesar and Antony to their deaths, but not in the way
Roman historians would portray it. She was an intelligent, well-intentioned
ruler who seems to have exhibited true affection for the only two men with
whom she allied herself. The Roman version, however, allowed them to
resurrect Caesar as a good Roman, seduced by an evil beauty.
How “Cleopatra's Needles” became Cleopatra’s
Octavian, now the sole ruler of Rome and consequently of Egypt, changed his
name to Augustus and decided to enhance the Caesarium, built to honor
Caesar. (Octavian had been adopted by Caesar, so he was actually honoring his
father.) To make the temple worthy of the great man, in 12/13 BC Augustus
had two of Tuthmosis III’s obelisks moved from Heliopolis, near modern
Cairo, to Alexandria and re-erected in front of the mausoleum. As centuries
passed, the building disappeared, the original significance of the obelisks was
lost, and they became known as “Cleopatra’s Needles.’ As far as we know, these
obelisks were the first moved by Romans, but they would not be the last.
Rome’ Obelisks 33
Augustus wanted obelisks as trophies of war to decorate Rome. Today there are
a dozen ancient obelisks standing in Rome, but if the accounts of early
geographers and travelers are to be believed, there are at least another dozen or
so lost beneath the city’s streets.
Piazza del Popolo Obelisk
Figure 2.1 The Piazza del Popolo obelisk, erected by Augustus around AD 10, was
the first erected in Rome.
The first obelisk that traveled across the Mediterranean now stands in Rome’
Piazza del Popolo. It originally stood in Heliopolis. When that city was sacked
by the Persians, dozens of the city’s obelisks were ripped from their bases and
tumbled to the ground. Strabo, an ancient historian (63 BC-20 AD), describes
King Cambyses’ destruction of the city, which “partly by fire and partly by iron
sought to outrage the temples, mutilating them and burning them on every
side, just as he did with the obelisks” (Geography 17,1,27). By the time of Strabo,
Heliopolis was deserted. When Augustus wanted an obelisk to grace Rome, he
went to Heliopolis. The obelisk was 65 feet long and weighed 230 tons, but the
Romans could rely on the experience of Egyptian engineers and sailors for
advice. First it was floated down the Nile on a barge to the port at Alexandria.
This was nota trivial operation, but had been done many times before. Crossing
the Mediterranean was another matter; even the Egyptians had never taken an
obelisk across open waters, and here the Romans had to invent new technology.
The special ship constructed to transport the obelisk was such a thing of
wonder that, Pliny tells us, “that which carried the first was solemnly laid up by
Augustus of revered memory in a permanent dock at Putouli to celebrate the
remarkable achievement; but later it was destroyed by fire.” There are no
contemporary drawings or paintings of this ship so what it looked like is a
mystery today. We do, however, have the obelisk, and its hieroglyphic inscription
tells us quite a bit about its history. The obelisk was quarried by Seti I, who died
before the inscriptions were completed, so his son, Ramses the Great, completed
the inscriptions, and thus the obelisk has two different styles of hieroglyphs on
its four surfaces.
Augustus erected the obelisk in Rome around AD 10 and inscribed on its
base his connection to noble Caesar, as well as establishing the obelisk as a war
trophy:
Augustus son of divine Caesar dedicated the obelisk
To the sun when Egypt had been brought under the
Sway of the Roman people.
As centuries passed, the obelisk fell or was taken down and disappeared
beneath the ground. Rediscovered in 1587 when Pope Sixtus V’s mania for
obelisks was at its peak, it was re-erected by Domenico Fontana (we will hear
more about Fontana in the next chapter when we see how he moved the
Vatican Obelisk). The obelisk is sometimes called the “Flaminian obelisk”
Rome’ Obelisks 35
because it is first seen through the Porta Flaminia. Augustus brought one more
obelisk to Rome. It is similar in size, but has a totally different tale to tell.
The Gnomon Obelisk (Monte Citorio)
Figure 2.2 The Monte Citorio obelisk was used as a gnomon for a sundial inlaid in
brass on the pavement. The globe at the top has a slit to allow sunlight through. It
never worked.
Augustus’s second obelisk bears the same inscription on its base as the first.
This, however, is where the similarities between the two obelisks end. It was
originally quarried by King Psamtek II of Dynasty X XVI, and is one of the last
ever to be erected by an Egyptian pharaoh. Soon after the obelisk was dedicated
in Heliopolis, the Persians invaded and for the next 500 years Egypt was
dominated by foreigners. Augustus had the obelisk brought to Rome and
erected it in the Campo Marzio, where it served not merely as a war trophy but
as a gnomon that cast its shadow on a huge sundial laid into the pavement with
brass rods. The sundial, with mosaics of the four winds, was so remarkable that
Pliny the historian mentions it in his Natural History. It may have been
marvelous, but it wasn’t useful for very long. Pliny tells us that after thirty years
it was out of phase with the calendar (Natural History, XX XVI, 72, 15).
Although the obelisk didn't work well as a gnomon, it remained standing
longer than almost any other obelisk in Rome. It wasn't till the eleventh century
that it fell or was pulled down, probably in 1084 when the Norman duke,
Robert Guiscard, sacked Rome. The obelisk was discovered in the sixteenth
century by a barber digging a latrine behind his shop. He hoped to receive a
reward from Pope Julius II (1503-13), but the Pope wasn't interested and the
barber reburied it! Julius I] was the first of five popes who would become
involved with burying or unearthing Augustus’s gnomon obelisk. In 1587, just
after Fontana had moved the Vatican Obelisk, Pope Sixtus V saw his chance to
erect another obelisk and asked Fontana to excavate it. Fontana reported that
the obelisk was too damaged to re-erect and a week later his workmen reburied
it. In 1647, when work began to extend the Acqua Vergine to supply the
fountains in the Piazza Navona, the workmen hit the obelisk and Father
Athanasius Kircher was called in to examine it.
The last man who knew everything
Kircher was one of the strangest Renaissance scholars, and that says a lot.
Widely acknowledged as a genius, some felt he was also a charlatan. He
constructed early computers—“arks” or chests that calculated, made music,
and even translated ancient languages. He is even said to have built a mechanical
vomiting rooster! Today he is best known for his attempt to translate the
hieroglyphs on Rome's obelisks.
Rome’ Obelisks 37,
Kircher was born in what is now Germany on May 2, 1602, the youngest of
nine children. His genius was recognized early and at the age of 16 he entered
a Jesuit College, where he studied Greek and Hebrew, the start of a lifelong
fascination with ancient languages. At the age of 18 he was admitted to the
Society of Jesus and soon began teaching Syriac, Hebrew, and mathematics.
When the Archbishop of Mainz visited Kircher, he was so impressed by the
young Jesuit’s calculating machines that he invited him to Mainz for four years
to teach and do research. Kircher asked to be sent to the East as a missionary
so he could study Chinese, but because he was so learned, everyone wanted to
keep him around.
In 1630 Kircher exhibited one of his most controversial inventions, a
“sunflower clock.” It was a heliotropic plant, the nightshade, whose seeds, when
attached to a cork bobbing in water, supposedly followed the motions of the
sun and thus could be used to tell time. Kircher claimed he obtained the seeds
from an Arab merchant. French philosopher René Descartes wondered why
seeds from Avignon or Rome couldn't do what Arabian seeds could. Descartes
concluded: “The Jesuit has a lot of tricks; he is more charlatan than scholar.”!
Descartes was in the minority. Rome was captivated by the brilliant priest.
Kircher reciprocated by promising to translate the hieroglyphs on Rome’s
obelisks. He would unlock the wisdom of the ancients for his new city, just
what Rome wanted to hear. Central to the Renaissance was a quest for ancient
knowledge, wisdom from which everyone would benefit, and no civilization
was older or wiser than Egypt’. Kircher was the right man, in the right place,
at the right time, but could he deliver? In 1643 he published Lingua Aegyptiaca
Restituta (“The Egyptian Language Restored”), where he claimed to have
deciphered hieroglyphs, releasing ancient Egyptian wisdom from 2,000 years
of captivity. Very few knew how wrong he was.
When Kircher was called to examine the fallen gnomon obelisk, he was
fascinated with its former use and reconstructed what the sundial must have
looked like, publishing his ideas and drawings in Obeliscus Pamphilius (1650)—
Pamphili was the Pope's last name—one of the earliest works on obelisks. In
1666 Kircher was called upon by Pope Alexander to completely excavate the
obelisk. When Kircher made an inspection he discovered that the obelisk had
been broken into three large fragments that along with its original pedestal
were now in the basements of houses that had been built over them. Kircher
reported to the Pope that if the houses were demolished an excavation was
possible, but to no avail. A few years after Kircher’s report, the Pope died and
the gnomon obelisk once more languished underground till yet another pope
became interested in it.
By 1748 the owners of the land in which the obelisk rested had decided to
demolish the now dilapidated houses above the three fragments and base.
Pope Benedict XIV visited the site and asked the eighty-two-year-old engineer,
Niccolo Zabaglia, to resurrect the obelisk. With the aid of new lifting cranes
invented by Zabaglia, after centuries underground, the three pieces of the
obelisk were finally raised. Today, above No. 3 Piazza del Parlamento is a plaque
commemorating the obelisk’s original position.
Benedict XIV dug out with great expense and skill this
obelisk elegantly inscribed with Egyptian letters, brought
to Rome by the Emperor Caesar Augustus, when Egypt had
been brought under the sway of the Romans, dedicated to
the sun and erected in the Campo Marzio to indicate the shadow
of the sun and the extension of the days and nights on a
pavement of stone with inlaid lines of bronze. Broken and
o he $
| Pee
Ue ona |
Figure 2.3 Nicolao Galeotti’s 1757 engraving shows the Campo Marzio obelisk as it
was, in pieces, when it was discovered in 1748.
Rome’ Obelisks 39
overturned by inclemency, time and barbarians, buried

under the earth and buildings, Benedict transported it to
a neighboring site for the public good and the support of
letters, and ordered this memorial put up in order that
the ancient place should not eventually be forgotten.
As the plaque shows, Benedict did more than just rescue the obelisk from
obscurity. He wanted to record the history of an ancient monument before it was
lost. So he asked Bandini, an antiquarian/librarian, to write a history of the obelisk.
In addition to Bandini’s history of the obelisk the Pope asked James Stuart, a
talented illustrator turned antiquarian, to copy the hieroglyphs on its four faces.
Athenian Stuart
Stuart began his career as an artist by decorating ladies’ fans with romantic
scenes, but in 1741 his life changed forever when he decided to walk from
London to Rome! Once he arrived, he studied Latin and Greek, fell in love with
ancient monuments and became an antiquarian. In 1748 he proposed to
publish An Accurate Description of the Antiquities ofAthens, which earned him
the nickname “Athenian Stuart” Stuart provided the first highly accurate
reproductions of hieroglyphs that capture both their beauty and form, and
Bandini reproduced the drawings in his publication. In a sense, Stuart’s copies
of the obelisk’s hieroglyphs are the beginning of modern epigraphy—the
careful, accurate recording of inscriptions.
Stuart wasn't just the father of epigraphy; he also improved excavation
techniques. When he excavated the ground where the obelisk stood, he
carefully recorded the levels at which he found objects, examining what later
archaeologists would call “stratigraphy.” His most important discovery points
to why the obelisk/gnomon didn't work as a sundial. It was not aligned to the
four compass points, as would be necessary for it to function properly. He
concluded that the obelisk was erected first and then, as an afterthought, a
sundial was laid into the pavement around the obelisk.
In spite of all the attention the obelisk was finally receiving, it still wasn't
erected. It was too badly damaged. The obelisk had been part of Pope Benedict's
plan to beautify the Piazza di Monte Citorio, but since the obelisk couldn't be
erected, he selected instead a different tall ancient monument, the column of
Antoninus Pius. Little did he know that would lead to the destruction of the
column and the miraculous resurrection of the obelisk.
Antoninus Pius’s column was cut from Egypt's Aswan granite quarries in
the sixth year of the Emperor Trajan’s reign (AD 105/6) and was erected in the
Emperor's funerary temple by the his two sons to commemorate the deification
of their father and Faustina, their mother. It has always struck me as ironic that
poor Caesar was assassinated because the Romans feared he wanted to rule as
an emperor and god. When Augustus crowned himself emperor, the republic
was dissolved and from then on the emperors all wanted to be declared gods.
In 1705 the column, along with its spectacular base, was moved to the
Piazza di Monte Citorio and was stored in a woodshed to protect it while it
awaited resurrection. The base was even more impressive than the pillar. One
side showed the apotheosis of Antoninus and Faustina, but it also featured a
reclining youth, symbolizing the Campo Marzio, who holds the gnomon
obelisk! Another side of the base showed military games held in honor of the
deification. The base was set in place on the Piazza to receive the column, but
Figure 2.4 The Monte Citorio obelisk was erected in the Campo Marzio. The base
of the obelisk shows a reclining youth, symbolizing the Campo Marzio, holding the
obelisk.
Rome’ Obelisks 4]
before the column was erected the woodshed caught fire, destroying it.
Fortunately the base was not kept in the shed, so now the Piazza had a burned
pillar, a badly damaged obelisk, and a spectacular base. In 1787 a visit by the
German poet, Goethe, gave new lives to all three.
Goethe had an eye for antiquities and realized that the beautiful Twenty-
Sixth Dynasty hieroglyphs on the obelisk’s three fragments were something
special; he had plaster casts of them made for his collection. Goethe's attention
created renewed interest in the obelisk, and two years later Pope Pius
VI commissioned the architect Giovanni Antolini to join the three fragments
and re-erect the obelisk. Pius VI was the sixth pope to attempt re-erecting
the obelisk, and now the burned column made it possible. Previous architects
faced with the task had pointed out that sections of the obelisk were missing
and the three fragments couldn't simply be joined. Replacement segments
had to be carved and only the same stone as the obelisk, Egyptian pink
granite, would work. Now, with the remnants of the burned pillar, Antolini had
a source of pink granite from the same quarry at Aswan that was used for the
obelisk. If the shed hadn't burned, the gnomon obelisk might still be lying on
the ground.
Antolini’s contract stipulated that he had three years to complete the project
and he began by getting the massive pillar base out of the way. He moved it to
the Vatican, where it can be seen today, in the courtyard of the Vatican Museum.
By January 25, 1790 Antolini had the obelisk’s original base in place and by
September 4 he had the scaffolding needed to raise the obelisk, but then things
slowed down. It took three more years to repair the obelisk and cast the bronze
ornaments that would be placed on top. As an homage to the obelisk’s function
as a gnomon, the ball on top was cast with a slit to admit a ray of sunlight.
Finally, on June 14, 1792 the top piece of the obelisk was put in place. The
inscription on the base tells the obelisk’s difficult history.
Cleansed from dirt and with added ornaments,

Sixtus VI restored to town and heaven King
Sesostris’s obelisk, which Caesar Augustus had
placed in the campus as an indicator of hours. But
destroyed by the violence of fire and passage of
time, had been left by Benedict XVI, after he had
removed it from the accumulated earth.
The plaque wrongly attributes the obelisk to ‘King Sesostris.” There were actually
three kings named Sesostris and all lived during the Middle Kingdom (2000-
1850 BC), more than a thousand years before Psamtek erected the obelisk. Despite
Kircher’s claims, hieroglyphs had not yet been deciphered, so no one could read
the cartouche containing Psamtek II’s name and they guessed it said Sesostris.
Augustus’ gnomon obelisk had suffered greatly over the centuries; now,
even though it was finally erect again, its trials and tribulations were not yet
over. In 1963 one of the bronze ornamental stars fell from the top, prompting
the first careful examination of the obelisk in more than 150 years. All the
bronze ornaments were badly corroded, but worse, the obelisk was in danger
of falling; it was not as it appeared to be. When you look at it from the front,
facing the church, you see beautiful hieroglyphs, but as you walk around the
obelisk the picture changes. On one side are large patches, and on the back
there are practically no hieroglyphs—it’s all repairs and it doesn't look solid.
Thin sheets of granite are backing the obelisk, and what’s behind the sheets
began causing problems in the 1960s. When Antolini repaired the obelisk, he
used granite from Pius’s column, but also bricks held together with iron clamps
to fill the inside spaces. The clamps were now rusted and, if one broke, the
bricks could shift, sending the obelisk crashing to the pavement. Throughout
the 1960s conservators worked frantically, replacing the clamps and stabilizing
the obelisk. Today the obelisk’s future looks far brighter than its past.
Esqualine Obelisk (Santa Maria Maggiore)
After the death of Augustus in AD 14, two 30-foot obelisks were quarried at
Aswan, brought 800 miles down the Nile to Alexandria and transported across
the Mediterranean to Rome, where they were erected in front of Augustus’s
family crypt—a fitting tribute to the first Roman ruler of Egypt, who was so
devoted to obelisks. As the centuries passed, the crypt fell into disuse and was
robbed. The obelisks were torn down, probably by Christian zealots. By the
Middle Ages, the two obelisks had disappeared beneath the ground. In 1519
Pope Leo X excavated one of the obelisks and moved its three fragments to the
street in front of the crypt. He intended to join the three pieces and re-erect it,
but the fragments remained in the street for more than half a century, a reviled
Rome’ Obelisks 43
Figure 2.5 The Esqualine Obelisk originally stood in front of the Emperor Augustus’s
family crypt.
obstruction to traffic! When Pope Sixtus V came to power, he was keen to erect
it; he wanted an obelisk in front of every church “as trophies or spoils of war
won from paganism by triumphant religion.” But sometimes even popes have
to wait. Fontana, “The Pope’s Architect,’ was in the midst of moving the Vatican
Obelisk (see next chapter). Finally in 1587 he dismantled the scaffolding in St.
Peter’s Square and put it into service moving Augustus's obelisk to the Esquiline
Square, just behind the Basilica of St. Maria Maggiore.
Quirinale Obelisk
Augustus’s second obelisk was discovered in 1549 but disappeared beneath the
ground soon after it was found and didn’t reappear till 1781, when an alley
near the mausoleum was being repaired. Pope Pius VI wanted to erect it at the
Piazza del Quirinale, on the highest hill in Rome, where the papal administrative
offices stood. The architect Giovanni Antinori was given the job, but before he
could erect the obelisk he had to move two ancient monumental horse statues.
At first he failed; they wouldn't budge, but finally, with the aid of a winch and
sixteen men, he repositioned them. Antinori had chosen white marble for the
obelisk’s pedestal but it clashed with the darker bases of the horse statues so he
suggested re-facing the ancient bases; the frugal Pope told him to stain his
pedestal with chestnut water. Antinori may have had an ulterior motive for
wanting to re-face the bases. They had been designed by the famous Domenico
Fontana, who had carved his name on them. Re-facing them would have
removed all traces of the other architect.
The bottom fragment of the obelisk was placed on its base in 1786 and the
other two pieces were set in place a few months later. On the south side of the
base a very dramatic inscription recounts the obelisk’s history:
I was formerly carved and cut from the mountain of Egypt

and by Romulean Force dragged through the sea’s waves
that as a pillar of awe, I might stand at the tomb of Augustus
... IT lay fallen and broken...
So Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome, has six obelisks associated with him,
the two first moved to Alexandria and later to London and New York, the two
that he moved to Rome, and the two that once stood in front of his mausoleum.
Rome’ Obelisks 45
Figure 2.6 The Quirinale Obelisk is the twin to the Esqualine and wasn't re-erected
till 1781.
This was just the beginning of a rather steady stream of obelisks that Roman
emperors would secure to beautify their city.
Trinita dei Monti (Spanish Steps)
Actually, Augustus has one more obelisk connected to him, although not
directly. It now sits on top of the Spanish Steps. We don’t know which emperor
first erected this obelisk, but he probably ruled about a century or so after
Figure 2.7 The Trinita dei Monti Obelisk sits on the steps above the Spanish
Embassy and is a popular tourist attraction.
Augustus. The poorly carved hieroglyphs indicate that the obelisk was carved
when such skills were already being lost. In 1666 Athanasius Kircher noticed
that the inscription was merely a poor copy of what is on Augustus’s obelisk at
the Piazza del Popolo. By now the Egyptian language was dying out and whoever
was emperor couldn't create his own inscription, so he copied Augustus’s.
This obelisk was found in 1544 in the Sallust Gardens, named for the
historian Caius Sallustius Crispus, who designed gardens that became part of
the palace grounds of several emperors. For two centuries the obelisk lay fallen,
until 1786, when Pope Pius VI decided to raise it. It was suggested that it. be
placed in front of the Church of Trinita dei Monti, at the top of the Spanish
Steps—so named because the Spanish Embassy dominated the square below.
Rome’ Obelisks 47
Giovanni Antinori, the architect, built a full-sized wood model of the pedestal
and obelisk and placed it in front of the church to see how it would look. The
Pope approved, and then the intrigue began.
Antinori’ rival, Pannini, tried to stop the work by claiming that erecting the
obelisk would cause both the church and steps to collapse. The Pope stood firm
behind Antinori and the project moved forward, but when Antinori began
excavating the foundation for the pedestal, torrential rains fell, flooding and
mudslides followed, stopping the work. Antinori was forced to put in a drainage
system, but that was just the beginning of his problems.
Bringing the large fragments of the obelisk to the site proved extremely
difficult. The space at the top of the steps had little room for maneuvering and
Antinori had to build a wooden bridge from the Villa Medici to the top of the
steps to create a path for the obelisk. Finally, in April of 1789 the bottom
fragment was placed on the pedestal he had designed. But there was a problem.
The second piece of the obelisk didn't join with the other fragments; some
pieces of the obelisk were missing. Antinori had to ask the Pope’s permission
to cut replacement pieces from the burned Antonine column before the obelisk
could finally be erected.
At the obelisk’s inauguration ceremony, a cross was mounted on top, but this
was no ordinary cross. It was a reliquary that held a piece of the true cross as well
as relics of St. Joseph, the apostles Peter and Paul, and other unnamed saints.
Obelisks had now transmuted from Roman war trophies to symbols of
Christianity’s triumph over paganism. Antinori overcame tremendous political
and physical hurdles to erect the obelisk above the Spanish Steps and now that
his job was done he was expecting heartfelt congratulations. He was, instead,
greeted with universal disdain. Romans felt that the pedestal he had designed
was far too large for the obelisk. The size of the base wasn't the only complaint.
His critics made fun of the poorly carved hieroglyphs. Antinori just couldn't win!
Today the obelisk is a beloved part of Rome's history and architecture. Had
the original base been found, Antinori wouldn't have had to design a pedestal
and his work might have been better received. In 1843, a half-century after the
obelisk was erected, its base was discovered in the gardens of the Villa Ludovisi.
The base didn’t fare much better than the obelisk that once stood on it.
In 1883 another obelisk without a base was discovered and it was later
suggested to erect it on the Ludovisi base in front of the railway station as a
monument to fallen Italian soldiers. The architect refused the offer of the base
and it remained neglected till 1926, when it became involved with Benito
Mussolini. Fascism was sweeping Italy and it was decided to use the base to
commemorate the October 28, 1922 march on Rome that led to Mussolini’s
first government. Decorated with marble ornaments and bronze plaques,
renamed “Ara dei Caduti Fascisti,” the base was erected on the Capitoline Hill
in a ceremony attended by Mussolini. After Mussolini’s fall from power, the
ornaments were stripped from the base and it now lies overturned in a garden.
The obelisk discovered in 1883 that was erected in front of the railway station
didn’t fare much better than the base.
The Obelisk at the Railway Station (Viale delle Terme)
The railway station obelisk was the first discovered by a modern archaeological
excavation. When Italy became a unified nation in 1870, a commission to
supervise archaeological excavations was established. The first place excavated
was the site of the Iseum, the Temple of Isis, because so many wonderful things
had been discovered there in the past. They began digging in 1883 and
immediately hit pay dirt. A spectacular sphinx of the pharaoh Amasis emerged
from the soil, followed by two life-sized black granite baboons, and then an
obelisk. Unlike so many other Roman obelisks, this one was unbroken, in perfect
condition, because when it fell it hit accumulated debris and not a hard pavement.
Originally erected by Ramses the Great at Heliopolis, it was brought to Rome by
an unknown emperor, set up at the Iseum, and later fell and was lost for more
than a thousand years. Now that it was rediscovered the discussion began as to
where it should be re-erected. In Italy such discussions can take years and this
one was resolved in 1887 by an event still discussed by patriotic Italians.
In 1887 Italy was involved in a war with Ethiopia and in January of that year,
548 Italian soldiers fell into an ambush and were killed. It was quickly agreed
that the obelisk was to be a memorial to the “cinquecento, as the soldiers were
called. Azurri, the architect responsible for the monument, designed a base
with bronze lions to symbolize the fallen heroes, whose names were inscribed
on a bronze plaque. The public didn't like it. They called it “vulgar” and
“inartistic’ and complained that it was too small for the large expanse in front
Romes Obelisks 49
:
y
Figure 2.8 The obelisk at the railway station is a monument to 548 Italian soldiers
killed in Ethiopia in 1887.
of the railway station. In 1924 the obelisk and base were moved to a nearby
park that today is quite shabby. Often the life of an obelisk in Rome was not
an easy one.
Bernini's Elephant Obelisk (Piazza della Minerva)
One of the last pairs of Egyptian obelisks was quarried by Psamtek’s son and
successor, Wa-Ib-Re, called Apries by the Greeks. Following the tradition of
earlier pharaohs, Apries raised a pair of obelisks in front of his mortuary
temple at Sais in the Delta. During the Roman Period, someone—we don't
know who—brought them across the Mediterranean to Rome and erected
them at the Iseum. Like so many other Roman obelisks, they toppled and
disappeared for centuries beneath the ground.
In 1665 Dominican friars digging a foundation for their garden's wall struck
an obelisk. Pope Alexander VII Chigi (1655-67) was thrilled. A humanist and
man of letters, he was especially interested in lost knowledge and this was the
kind of discovery he loved. He had reorganized the Vatican Library, contributing
his own collection of books, and erecting an obelisk would add nicely to what
he had already done for the city. The Pope also supported the great artist and
architect Bernini, whose works included the colonnade at St. Peter’s Church in
the Vatican. Bernini was commissioned to design a pedestal for the obelisk that
was to be erected in front of the Dominican Church in the Piazza della
Minerva.
A large folder in the Vatican Library contains the various design proposals
for the pedestal. One shows four dogs at the corners of the obelisk, a pun on
“Dominican” and “domini canes’—“the hounds of God” because Domin-
icans had a reputation for ferreting out heretics. In the end, Bernini's
now famous elephant pedestal was selected. The elephant that supports the
obelisk is a bit strange; the trunk is too long and the elephant’s neck twists so it
can see the obelisk. An inscription on the side facing the church explains the
symbolism.
Let any beholder of the carved images of the wisdom of Egypt

On the obelisk carried by the elephant, the strongest of
Beasts, realize that it takes a robust mind to carry solid Wisdom.
Rome’ Obelisks 51
"hs
Figure 2.9 During the Renaissance, when the Piazza della Minerva obelisk was
re-erected, it was wrongly believed that the elephant was the ancient Egyptian
hieroglyph for wisdom. Thus, Bernini designed an elephant base for it!
The idea that inscriptions on obelisks bear the wisdom of Egypt was the result
of Kircher’s misguided interpretation of hieroglyphs. Obelisk inscriptions are
usually dull recitations of the titles of the pharaohs who erected them. This
misconception that all hieroglyphic inscriptions contained ancient wisdom
was popular throughout the Renaissance, and was aided by the fact that no one
could read them, including Athanasius Kircher.
Horapollo leads everyone astray
For nearly a thousand years, scholars were on the wrong track trying to
decipher the ancient Egyptian script, and much of the error is due to Horapollo,
a Hellenist who lived in Alexandria in the fifth century AD. He is the author of
the oldest known work on hieroglyphs, the Hieroglyphica, written when the
knowledge of how to read the ancient language had just about died. Everything
about Horapollo and his work is on the divide of two worlds: Egypt and Greece.
His name is a combination of the Egyptian god Horus and the Greek god
Apollo; his book is about ancient Egyptian writing but is written in Greek. He
had a smattering of how Egyptian hieroglyphs worked, but, like most Greeks,
he missed the bigger picture. For example, when he interpreted the meaning of
the duck hieroglyph, he got it right, but for the wrong reason. He correctly said
that the duck meant “son” but went on to explain why: because the duck fights
so fiercely for its offspring. Horapollo had bought into the belief that each
hieroglyph is an ideogram, a sign that stands for an idea. This is where he got
it wrong. Many Egyptian hieroglyphs are simply phonetic; they stand for
sounds, and that’s the case with the duck hieroglyph. The duck sign is what
Egyptologists call a biliteral, a hieroglyph that stands for two sounds one after
the other. The duck represents the sound “sa,” and “sa” was the word for “son” in
ancient Egyptian.
A manuscript of Horapollo’s Hieroglyphica was discovered in the fifteenth
century and was quickly translated into Latin, becoming the source of countless
errors throughout the Renaissance, and may have been the inspiration for
Bernini’ elephant. Horapollo says, “When the Egyptians wanted to signify a
strong man in search of what is beneficial or essential, they drew an elephant
with its trunk because the animal probes with its trunk and (thus) becomes
master of its fate.” This is pure fantasy, the Egyptians never believed anything
of the sort, but Bernini believed it, so millions of visitors to Rome are treated
to an obelisk on an elephant’s back.
Bernini’ Fountain (Piazza Navona)
Bernini’ elephant was not his only contribution to the obelisks of Rome. In the
Piazza Navona, a fabulous Bernini fountain supports an obelisk, but Bernini
Romes Obelisks 53
Figure 2.10 The Piazza Navona obelisk rests on four sculpted caves, each
representing one of the four major continents (Africa, Asia, Europe, and the
Americas). Nilus was shown with his face covered because the source of the Nile was
yet to be discovered.
was not the first choice to design it. As a matter of fact, it was only because of
a devious plan that Bernini got to build his fountain supporting the obelisk.
The obelisk in question has a long and strange history, beginning with the
Emperor Domitian (AD 81-96) and the goddess Isis.
Domitian’s favorite goddess was Isis, an Egyptian deity widely worshipped
in Rome during the first century. Isis’s rise in popularity was due to a great
extent to the Greek philosophers Plato and Aristotle. Aristotelian logic asserted
that the world was an orderly place, governed by laws of nature, not by
mercurial whims of gods as portrayed in Greek and Egyptian mythology.
Aristotle’s teacher, Plato, also contributed to the decline of mythology by
teaching that the basic truths of the cosmos are unchanging abstract ideas, not
subject to temperamental gods. Unlike many other gods, Isis was rational, the
devoted wife whose hard work paid off in the resurrection of her husband,
Osiris. She was the perfect precursor for Christianity. Because Isis had traveled
across the Mediterranean to find her husband's body she was especially popular
with sailors, so most Mediterranean harbors had Isis shrines. As the devotion
to Isis spread, she became particularly popular with wealthy ladies of Rome.
Here was a goddess with whom they could have a close personal relationship,
and an Isis Temple, the Iseum, was built. But while Roman ladies loved Isis, the
emperors often didn't.
Augustus, Rome's first emperor, banished the worship of Isis when he took
over control of Egypt. This is not surprising. After all, Caesar and Antony both
had formed alliances with Cleopatra, who had a habit of dressing up like Isis.
After Augustus, Caligula reversed the ban and refurbished the Isis Temple, but
it burned during the reign of Titus (AD 79-81). Domitian (AD 81-96) rebuilt
it, but unfortunately, today no remains of this temple can be seen above ground.
Our best indicator of what it looked like is an ancient map, incised on a slab of
marble called the Forma Urbis Romae. The map shows the temple situated near
St. Maria sopra Minerva, which makes sense since Isis was often identified
with the goddess Minerva. (On the map the temple is called Iseum et Serapeum,
indicating that there were two sections, one for Isis and one for her husband,
known as Serapis to the Greeks and Romans.) Inside the temple, the map
shows a circle and a square—a fountain and a single obelisk. With a little bit of
detective work, I believe we can establish that this was the obelisk that now
stands in the Piazza Navona.
Rome’ Obelisks 55
The obelisk’s inscription proclaims that Domitian, the rebuilder of the Isis
Temple, erected it and affirms that it is not a member of a pair, so as a singleton
it fits the plan on the ancient map. This suggests it was standing at the Iseum
two thousand years ago. Although the obelisk was quarried in Egypt, it was
probably inscribed in Rome because the hieroglyphs are not well formed.
Egyptian hieroglyph carvers would have done a better job. The inscription says
that the falcon god Horakhty is Domitian’s father, the typical way a ruler in
Egypt asserted his divinity. Usually this is followed by the pharaoh’: titles;
Domitian has merely copied the titles of Pharaoh Ptolemy III, who ruled a few
centuries before him. Then the inscription becomes decidedly un-Egyptian; it
mentions contemporary people: “Domitian taking over the kingdom of his
father Vespasianus from his Elder Brother, Titus, when his soul had fled to
heaven.” The pyramidion on top of the obelisk is also unusual. Normally we see
the king making offerings to a god, or being presented by a god. Here the
Emperor is surrounded by a bevy of four goddesses, adoring him! Isis, the
Emperors favorite, presents the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt to Domitian.
The obelisk stood in the Iseum for two centuries, until AD 309, when
Emperor Maxentius’s oldest son died and Maxentius appropriated the obelisk
for the spina (the central axis) of a circus he dedicated to his son. When that
circus fell into disuse the obelisk fell as well, only to resurface in the fourteenth
century, broken into four large fragments. The broken obelisk remained
prostrate for centuries till 1647, when Pope Innocent X Pamphili decided to
commission a fountain to beautify the Piazza Navona. Athanasius Kircher
convinced His Holiness to incorporate the obelisk into the new plan for the
Piazza. Thus, when the most prominent architects of the day were asked to
submit their designs for the Piazza, it was for a fountain/obelisk combo. The
great Bernini was not invited. He had been the favorite of the previous Pope,
Urban VIII Barbarini, but the Barbarinis had been enemies of the new Pope,
so Bernini was out. He was still officially the architect of St. Peter's, but had no
work. Even though one of Bernini's specialties was fountains, the commission
went to another architect named Borromini. But Bernini had a plan.
On his own, Bernini designed the fountain, executed a model in solid silver,
and gave it as a present (or a bribe) to the Pope’ sister-in-law. She was to
position it in a prominent place in her house, where the Pope would see it when
he visited. The plan worked. When Innocent saw it, he was enthralled, studying
the model for half an hour. He summoned Bernini and awarded him the
contract, forgetting that he had promised it to Borromini. It was now full steam
ahead for both fountain and obelisk.
Kircher, told to fully excavate the obelisk, uncovered the four large fragments
but was unable to locate the original pedestal. He discovered that some smaller
pieces of the obelisk were missing so he went back, excavated some more and
found them, but they were too damaged to be incorporated into the obelisk.
He copied their inscriptions, then had them carved on new stone so the obelisk
could be reassembled. In 1649 the obelisk was erected, but the fountain took
another two years to complete.
Bernini quarried travertine marble from Tivoli, near Rome, and carved four
romantic caves out of the huge blocks of stone. Each cave represented a
continent: Asia, Africa, Europe, and the Americas, each represented by a river
with an appropriate sculpture. For Africa, the Nile god cloaks his face because
the source of the Nile was not known.
The new interest created by Bernini's fountain and the re-erected obelisk
gave Kircher the chance to publish the hieroglyphic translations he had
been working on. On the east face of the obelisk the actual inscription reads:
“Caesar Domitianus, living forever.’ But in Kircher’s time that meaning had
been lost.
Kircher’s translation was based on the false assumption that each hieroglyph
represented an idea, so he attributed meanings to each hieroglyph, such as
the concepts of generating, force, the supernatural, the infernal, emanating
from above, and the influence of humors. Kircher’s translation was: “The
beneficent generative force commanding through supernatural and infernal
dominion, augments the flow of sacred humors emanating from above.
Saturn, the disposer of fleeting time, promotes the fecundity of the soil,
commanding humid nature. For by his influence all things have life force.”
Pure nonsense.”
Almost all of Rome's obelisks were in some way or other associated with
either Kircher or Augustus. Most were translated by Kircher, and many of the
obelisks were either brought by Augustus or transported from Egypt after his
death to grace his mausoleum. But there is one obelisk on the Capitoline Hill
that has a unique connection with Augustus. The globe on top was said to
contain his ashes.
Rome’ Obelisks 57
— ‘henna
Tem nS (2 em]
Figure 2.11 Athanasius Kircher’s transcriptions of the hieroglyphs on Rome's
obelisks were almost as fanciful as his translations.
Capitoline Obelisk (Villa Celimontana)
Several pairs of obelisks once stood in front of the Iseum but they have all been
separated; however, some can still be traced. The obelisk that once stood on the
Capitoline and was later moved to the Villa Celimontana is one such orphan.
It was originally erected by Ramses II, brought to the Iseum and, like so many
others, was toppled, broken, and lost. Its distinction is that it is probably the
first obelisk re-erected after Roman times. Someone in the fourteenth century
placed the top fragment of the obelisk on a new shaft and set it up on the
Capitoline. Many believed this obelisk once held the remains of Augustus.
Two centuries after its re-erection, the Capitoline Obelisk fell and in 1582
was given by the state to Ciriaco Mattei, a beloved antiquary. When Fontana
finished moving the Vatican Obelisk, he used the timbers from his castello to
erect this obelisk behind the Mattei villa in an area landscaped to look like an
ancient circus. Over the years the gardens changed hands and declined, but the
obelisk remained. In the nineteenth century, the villa was occupied by the
exiled Prime Minister of Spain, Manuel Godoy, who restored the villa and
gardens. When the obelisk was refurbished in 1817, a workman caught his
hand between the obelisk and its base and the hand had to be amputated on
the spot. This was considered a bad omen and the obelisk was rarely visited.
When Godoy inscribed the base he preserved the obelisk’s history:
Having first extended the grounds, Manuel Godoy

Removed hither this obelisk formerly presented
To Ciriaco Mattei, the ancient owner of the gardens,
By the Senate and people of Rome. The inclemency
Of time had almost caused its downfall ...
The monument is no longer open to the public; it is in a private garden.
Piazza della Rotonda
The mate to the Villa Celimontana obelisk is not far from its twin, in the Piazza
della Rotonda. We know very little about its history, only that in 1711 Pope
Clement XI re-erected it in front of the Pantheon, incorporating it into a
fountain with dolphins that spout water.
Rome’ Obelisks ay,
Figure 2.12 Pope Clement XI re-erected the Piazza della Rotonda obelisk in 1711,
putting it in a fountain with dolphins that spout water.
Rome’s last obelisk (Monte Picino)
The last obelisk erected in Rome is a unique bit of Egyptomania, a tribute to

the Roman fascination with ancient Egypt. To anyone who knows hieroglyphs,
as soon as you near the obelisk something seems wrong; the hieroglyphic
inscription isn't quite right. The shapes of the hieroglyphs aren't the way an
Egyptian carver would have done it. There’s also something about the grammar;
it doesn’t flow like Egyptian sentences. That’ because it wasn’t written by an
Egyptian; the obelisk was quarried in Egypt during the first century, transported
to Rome, and inscribed there by an Egyptophile for the Emperor Hadrian.
The obelisk is a monument to Antinous, Hadrian’s lover whose death is still a
mystery. The official account is that he accidentally drowned in the Nile while he
and Hadrian were touring Egypt, but few people in Hadrian's time believed this
account. The historian, Dio, and others believe Antinous was a willing sacrifice
who gave his life to ward off an evil omen for his Emperor. Whatever the case,
Hadrian had Antinous deified and a new-born star named after him. In Egypt,
Hadrian built a Roman-style city in his honor and named it Antinoupolis.
Shrines for the cult of Antinous sprung up in Egypt and Rome, with life-sized
statues of the handsome Antinous striding forward like an Egyptian pharaoh.
In Rome, Hadrian built a sanctuary for Antinous where he buried his
cremated ashes. In front of this sanctuary he erected a 30-foot obelisk, and a
Roman scholar of Egyptian hieroglyphs carved an inscription on it proclaiming,
“The Remains of Antinous rest here ... in the precinct of the goddess of the
Luck of Rome.” Antinous'’s obelisk remained standing for two centuries, but, in
the beginning of the third century, Sixtus Varius Marcellus had it moved to the
Circus Varianus. As centuries passed and Christians pulled down Rome's
pagan obelisks, this obelisk also fell and was forgotten. Rediscovered after the
Middle Ages, it was described in 1525 as “an obelisk lying on its side, broken in
two pieces.’ In 1570 the obelisk was fully freed from the earth by the two
Saccoccius brothers who owned the former circus lands and had it erected in
their garden. They carved a plaque commemorating their excavation of the
obelisk that can be seen today beneath one of the arches of the Acqua Felice.
But the Saccoccius garden was not the final site for the obelisk.
In 1620 Pope Urban VIII’s nephew, Cardinal Barberini, took the obelisk to
the Barberini’s family gardens and had Father Athanasius Kircher transferred to
Rome’ Obelisks 61
TOS, FAT as aie,
Figure 2.13 Erected by the Emperor Hadrian (AD 117-38), the Monte Picino
obelisk is the last erected in Rome. It was quarried in Egypt but inscribed in Rome
to commemorate the death of Hadrian's young lover, Antinous, who drowned in
the Nile.
Rome so he could translate the inscription. Kircher was, indeed, a linguist who
could read nearly a dozen languages, but, as we have seen, ancient Egyptian
wasn't one of them. His translation is once again pure fantasy. Although the
obelisk was brought to the family gardens, the Barberinis never got around to
erecting it. For more than a century it remained prostrate on the ground. In the
eighteenth century, the director of the French Academy in Rome suggested to
his king that he purchase the obelisk for France and erect it in Paris. His Majesty
replied that the director had too much zeal; an obelisk was an extravagance that
the king didn't need. In 1770 the obelisk was given to Pope Clement XIV, but still
nothing was done with it. Half a century later, in 1822, it was finally erected in
the Viale del Obelisco. Unlike most of the other obelisks in Rome, it bears no
cross and it is not in front of a church. Times had changed. The last obelisk raised
in Rome is a secular monument, its Latin inscription proclaiming it merely “an
extraordinary monument ...to decorate the delightful Pincio Gardens.”
One obelisk standing in Rome has not been described—the Vatican Obelisk.
Its history is both so involved and so fascinating that is the subject of the next
chapter. But there is one more Roman obelisk to mention here. It is Roman in
the sense that the Romans moved it, but it was destined for Constantinople.
The Constantinople Obelisk
Although the Romans erected dozens of obelisks in their city, there is not a single
contemporary depiction in Rome of the method they used. The only ancient
depiction we have is in Istanbul. The Istanbul obelisk originally stood in Karnak
Temple but during the reign of Emperor Constantine it was moved to Alexandria,
where it lay on the beach waiting shipment to the new capital, Constantinople.
The obelisk languished on the beach till the reign of Theodosius (AD 347-95),
who finally had it brought over and erected, the last obelisk moved by a Roman
emperor. Sometime during its unfortunate life the obelisk lost its bottom third,
so what we see today in Istanbul is only two-thirds of an obelisk. However, on its
pedestal is the only ancient representation of an obelisk being raised.
An inscription on the base tells us that it took Proclus, the Prefect of
Constantinople, thirty-two days to erect it. The scenes on the weathered base
were often reproduced in books of the Late Renaissance. The top two registers
show the actual erecting of the obelisk. On the top register the obelisk is lying
Rome’ Obelisks 63
She Hippodrom with the Vebean Obelitk a7/ Engines ly rhih livas crecled.
ri SeadG) Mig Can Sk
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iv
mitMm
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Figure 2.14 The base of Constantinople’s obelisk bears the only depiction from
Roman times of an obelisk being erected.
on the ground being winched along by two capstans turned by four men each.
Undoubtedly there were more than two capstans and more than four men per
capstan; the scene merely gives a general idea of how it was done. If you look
closely at the capstan in the second register, you can see that there are ropes
coming from the obelisk in the first register. We are not looking at sequential
turnings of the same capstans, but at the simultaneous turnings of four.
Sitting on the ground, near each capstan, someone makes sure that the
ropes don't get tangled. In both registers we see someone standing on a
platform, probably the overseer of the works calling out instructions. In the
bottom register the obelisk is erect and someone dressed in rich robes is
handing out rewards. It was not, however, all easy sailing. On the right side of
the second register we see someone being carried from the worksite with a
woman in anguish to the right. This ancient portrayal of the Constantinople
obelisk being raised was the only representation anyone could turn to if he
wanted to move or raise an obelisk. This is exactly what was done more than a
thousand years later when Domenico Fontana was called upon to move the
Vatican Obelisk, to which we turn in the next chapter.
God's Architect
Every Sunday thousands of faithful Catholics from all over the world crowd
into St. Peter’s Square to hear the Pope celebrate Mass. Right in the middle of
the throng is an 85-foot red granite spear reaching up to the sky that the
Church once thought so powerful that the ritual of exorcism was performed
on it. Its history involves two mad emperors, The Book of Revelation, and an
archaeologist turned detective, but we still don’t know who made it thousands
of years ago in Egypt. The Vatican Obelisk has always been a mystery.
Of all the massive obelisks quarried in Egypt, the Vatican Obelisk is the only
one uninscribed. No hieroglyphs tell which pharaoh quarried and erected
it, and this, in itself, is a puzzle waiting to be solved. Obelisks were erected
in pairs at temple entrances to proclaim the pharaoh’s power. Carved on all
four faces were the king’s names and formal titles. This is where pharaoh
proclaimed himself “King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Son of the Sun, The
Golden Horus, Beloved of the Amun, etc., etc.” For an ancient Egyptian king,
an uninscribed obelisk was pointless. Why go to the expense and trouble of
quarrying and moving a 320-ton shaft of stone and not put your name on it?
Perhaps the king died before it could be inscribed, or perhaps it was quarried
for a Roman; we will never know for sure. What we do know is that it was
brought from Egypt to Rome by Caligula, the modern world’s poster boy for a
ruler gone mad.
The monster's trophy
Caligula’ reputation is well earned. He was a rather strange-looking young

man with spindly arms and legs, prematurely bald but with excess hair all over
Gods Architect 65
the rest of his body. His name was really Gaius, not Caligula. The caliga was a
boot worn by Roman soldiers. When he was two years old he wore a miniature
soldier’s outfit, complete with boots, and was nicknamed “Caligula’—“little
boots.” He hated the nickname and when he became emperor he punished
anyone who used it. He also punished anyone who looked down at his head
because they would see he was bald.
As a teenager he had an incestuous affair with his younger sister Drusilla,
but this was just the beginning of his excesses; when he became emperor and
had unlimited power, Caligula’s royal perversions were so great that at one
point in his history of Rome, Suetonius says, “So much for Caligula as emperor;
we must now tell his career as a monster.’
Because he didn’t get along with people, Caligula lavished his affections on
his horse, Incitatus, who lived in a marble stall and wore royal purple blankets
studded with gems. Frequently Caligula held lavish banquets and sent the
invitations in the horse's name, and he provided Incitatus with barley crafted
from gold. (Caligula had no veterinary training.)
Convinced he was a god, Caligula was particularly fond of Egypt, whose
pharaohs were also considered divine. Some time during his brief four-year
reign (he was assassinated, much to the relief of most Romans) he decided it
would add to his glory to have an Egyptian obelisk in Rome. Not wanting the
expense of quarrying one himself, he decided to bring a second-hand obelisk
inscribed by Tiberius, his uncle: “Sacred to the God Caesar Augustus, son of
the God Julius, and to Tiberius Caesar Augustus, son of the God Augustus.” But
Tiberius wasn't the original owner of the obelisk either, and this is where,
fifteen hundred years later, Professor Filippo Magi, our archaeologist/detective,
comes in.
Detective Magi and the case of the uninscribed obelisk
Filippo Magi, Director of Archaeological Research and Scholarship in Vatican

City, in the 1960s seemed to know every Vatican statue, painting and monument
intimately. If a right index finger was found at an excavation, he knew which
statue in the Vatican Museum was missing that finger. He was famous for
reconstructing broken statues and vases from bits and pieces.
Ona clear December morning in 1961, Professor Magi was standing in front
of the Vatican Obelisk looking at the inscription Tiberius had placed on the
obelisk nineteen centuries earlier. In the bright, raking sunlight, he noticed
dozens of small nail holes within the Latin words. Why were they there? He
wondered if they could be the remnants of an even earlier inscription, where
individual bronze letters had been nailed to the obelisk. Magi began by tracing
the pattern left by the nail holes to see if he could see the outlines of individual
letters. He could. Then he made lots of plastic letters to scale and put them
where he was certain he knew they belonged. Then, using the rest of the letters
like a Scrabble set, combined with some basic principles of cryptology, he
moved them around to fill in the blanks that he couldn't read. Finally, he cracked
the code: I1VSSV IMP CAESARIA DIVI FC CORNELIVS CN F GALLUA
PRAEF FABR GAESARIS: DIVISFSFORV MulV MLV Me EECITS (ihe
inscription is highly abbreviated, for example the “F” stands for “FILII’;
“son of,”
and “PRAEF” is PRAEFECTUS, the ruler of Egypt during Roman times.) The
inscription proclaims the obelisk was raised by Cornelius Gallus, Prefect of
Egypt during the reign of Augustus. Gallus was a renowned writer, praised by
the two most famous poets of his day, Ovid and Virgil. But he was also a military
man who served under Octavian, who later changed his name to Augustus
when he became emperor. Gallus was probably with Octavian when he defeated
Marc Antony and Cleopatra at the Battle of Actium. We know for certain that
he also led troops in Egypt that defeated Antony. As a reward for his loyal
service, Octavian (now the Emperor Augustus) made him Prefect of Egypt,
from whence came endless sacks of grain to feed the growing Roman populace.
If the Prefect did not keep order and ensure a good harvest in Egypt, Rome
could starve. But if it all went well, the Prefect would have been a very rich man.
Gallus served for about four years as Prefect and from ancient Roman
historians we know he did some things well, and he was certainly trusted by
Augustus. He is even mentioned in Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra as one
of the two friends Augustus sent to bring Cleopatra back to Rome alive so she
could be displayed in a tribute in the Circus. It is recorded that Gallus
maintained and enlarged the irrigation canals, supported the arts, and
increased the papyrus industry. But it seems power went to his head and he
spoke disrespectfully of Augustus, never a good idea. The historian Ammianus
Marcellinus reports that Gallus plundered Thebes, Egypt’s religious capital,
God's Architect 67
and erected statues to himself throughout Egypt. In short, Gallus began acting
like a pharaoh, and pharaohs erected obelisks.
The obelisk he erected in the Forum Julium, a public square in Alexandria,
fits the picture of someone impressed with himself. It is the largest obelisk
ever erected by a non-royal, and may have contributed to his downfall. In
26 BC Gallus was relieved of his position as Prefect and called back to Rome
by Augustus because of his conduct. There the Senate convicted him of
misconduct, confiscated his estates, and banished him. Soon after his sentence,
Gallus committed suicide by his own sword. He was forty years old. Years after
Gallus’s fall, the Emperor Tiberius removed Gallus’s inscription on the obelisk
and carved his own name on it, making it his own. So the obelisk that Caligula
decided to bring to Rome had quite a history and had already contributed to
the downfall of one Roman.
The obelisk soared nearly ninety feet into the sky and weighed more than
300 tons. No existing boat could transport it, so Caligula built a special
transport ship powered by three tiers of hundreds of oarsmen. The obelisk was
probably secured in the ship’s hold by thousands of sacks of Egyptian grain, so
it wouldn't shift. After its successful journey across the Mediterranean, the ship
was placed on display for all Rome to marvel at it.
Once safely disembarked in Rome, the obelisk was erected in the circus that
Caligula was building to further his passion for horse racing. A circus was
basically an oval racetrack with a low wall called the spina running down the
center, around which the horses and chariots would race. Caligula erected his
obelisk on the spina. We have no contemporary records of how Caligula
erected the obelisk, but it must have been different from the Egyptian method.
As we have seen from the base of the Constantinople obelisk, unlike ancient
Egyptian engineers, Roman architects had pulleys and winches that gave them
a mechanical advantage and the ability to lift heavy objects straight up.
Caligula’s obelisk did not rest directly on its pedestal, as did Egyptian obelisks,
but sat on four massive bronze feet each weighing more than 600 pounds.
These were fixed to the pedestal in such a way that the obelisk could not have
been rotated into position. The Romans must have lifted the obelisk straight up
and lowered it onto the bronze feet, but we don't know exactly how. No matter
how they achieved it, the obelisk was set on its pedestal so well that it, alone
among all the Roman obelisks, remained upright for 1,500 years.
While Rome burned
After Caligula’s assassination, his nephew, Nero, expanded and completed the
Circus, leaving the obelisk in place. Nero is most famous for having “fiddled
while Rome burned.’ While it is undoubtedly true that Nero was sometimes
cruel and sent hundreds of innocent people to their deaths, the fiddling story
is not quite accurate and is not so terrible as it sounds. Nevertheless, during the
evening of July 19, AD 64 fire broke out in Rome, eventually reducing two-
thirds of the city to ashes.
Almost every stratum of Roman society was hurt by the burning of Rome.
The wealthy lost their villas and fine possessions and the poor lost their shacks
and what little they had; almost everyone lost family members to the flames.
During the conflagration, when everyone was doing what he could to help, one
group seemed almost to welcome the fire—the Christians. This small group
of mostly poor people and slaves followed Paul of Tarsus, a Jew who was a
Roman citizen.
Nero sent his agents to investigate the cause of the fire and the Christians
who had acted so strangely. He learned that they were awaiting the second
coming of their messiah, someone named Christus, who had been executed in
Judea a decade earlier. The Christians construed the fire as a divine harbinger
that Christ was about to reappear and were thus joyous while other Romans
were terrified. Nero failed to share their enthusiasm. He had many Christians
rounded up and executed, including Paul of Tarsus.
Witness to martyrdom
Shortly after the massacre Peter, who had now become leader of the Christians,
wrote what was to become known as the first epistle. He encouraged the
Christians to remain faithful so that “they may be ashamed who falsely accuse
you. The end of all things is at hand, therefore watch and pray.’ Soon after
writing this, Nero had Peter arrested and executed at the Circus. Bound to a
cross, he asked that he be executed upside down so that his insignificant death
might not be confused with that of Christ. When Peter was executed, Caligula’s
obelisk, which had escaped the fire, was standing nearby. Later in the Middle
God's Architect 69
Ages, when other Roman obelisks were being toppled by Christians because
they were pagan monuments, the Circus obelisk was spared because it had
witnessed the martyrdom of St. Peter. It would remain on its pedestal for
another 1,500 years till a Pope decreed it should be moved. Thus the Vatican
Obelisk owes its longevity to Rome’s two most infamous emperors, Caligula
and Nero.
For three centuries the obelisk remained in place while the new Christian
religion grew. In AD 313 the Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity. He
was undoubtedly prompted by his mother, the Empress Helena, who was a
devout convert to Christianity. She was also a bit gullible—on a single shopping
trip to Jerusalem the Empress bought not only the True Cross but also the
bones of the Three Wise Men. Rome became the seat of early Christianity, and
in an attempt to make it worthy, Constantine began building. The Circus of
Nero, where St. Peter had been martyred three hundred years earlier, was torn
down and upon its foundation a basilica for Peter was constructed in the
shadow of the obelisk.
Throughout the Middle Ages, as Christianity took hold, the obelisk remained
in place. During the Renaissance, when St. Peter's Basilica was now more than
a thousand years old and beginning to show its age, a new basilica was begun.
The cornerstone was placed by Pope Julius II in 1506, less than a quarter of a
mile from the old basilica. The new basilica was spectacular, and soon the old
was neglected, and with it the obelisk. Visited by only the most informed and
persistent pilgrims, the obelisk’s pedestal disappeared beneath accumulated
rubbish. The suggestion was constantly being put forward that the obelisk
should be moved to the site of the new St. Peter’s Basilica where it would be
appreciated, but no one was willing to attempt it. When Michelangelo was
asked to try he replied, “And what if it breaks?”
There was, however, one brave soul who was apparently eager for the job.
Camillo Agrippa was an engineer who in 1583 published a small book, Treatise
by Camillo Agrippa of Milan on Moving the Needle in St. Peters Square (Trattato
di Camillio Agrippa Milanese di Transportar la Guiglia in su la Piazza di San
Pietro). Agrippa probably thought his treatise would convince everyone that
he could do the job. His idea was to build a giant scaffold to support the obelisk
as it was raised by massive levers off its pedestal. Then, while suspended
vertically on the scaffold, the obelisk would be moved on rollers to its new
location. Agrippa included an engraving of his scaffold, and this may be the
reason he didn’t get the contract. There is no cross-bracing of the vertical
members and the scaffold as designed simply would not have been able
to support the enormous weight of the obelisk. As William Parsons put it
in his wonderful book Engineers and Engineering in the Renaissance, anyone
could see that “the main timbers were unsupported at any point in their
entire length, that there was no diagonal bracing and that the design was
lacking in every essential of sound engineering principles.”' It would have
been a disaster.
Fortunately Agrippa’s pamphlet seems to have been ignored, but a year
later a new pope, Sixtus V, became Christ’s Vicar on Earth and was determined
to find the right man to move the obelisk. Sixtus was a Franciscan and
took Christ’s command to St. Francis literally. (When St. Francis was praying
at a small church just outside of Assisi the Christ on the crucifix came to
life and said, “Francis, repair my church.”) Sixtus intended to complete the
dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, rebuild Rome, and move the obelisk. Even before
he was Pope, as Cardinal Peretti, he was an enthusiastic builder—so enthusiastic
that his pope cut off his funds and chastised him for extravagance in
building an elaborate villa. The Cardinal was saved by his young architect,
Domenico Fontana, who loaned him the money to complete the villa he had
begun.
The Pope's prize
Soon after he became Pope, Sixtus formed a committee of four cardinals, a

bishop and city council members to select an architect to move the obelisk.
Applicants for the job were to submit their plans and appear before the
committee to explain their designs. In September of 1585 more than 150
architects and engineers came to Rome from as far away as Greece with plans
ranging from the brilliant to the ridiculous. Many did not want to lower the
obelisk, fearing it would break when pivoted to the horizontal, and, like
Agrippa, suggested it be levered off its pedestal and moved while still upright.
The committee selected seven finalists, among them Domenico Fontana.
Fontana came from a family of architects and he had worked with his older
God’ Architect 71
architect brother, Giovanni, before he moved to Rome. Because he had assisted

the Pope when he was still a cardinal, Fontana undoubtedly had the inside
track, but he came prepared. He presented an exquisite miniature model of the
scaffold he intended to build, complete with a lead obelisk he had cast to scale.
His was an extremely detailed plan complete with calculations to determine
the weight of the obelisk, and it impressed the committee. Fontana was given
the job, but at forty-two years old was considered too young to conduct such
an important and difficult job himself, so it was stipulated that he would have
to work under the supervision of two senior architects.
Fontanas two supervisors were extremely competent. The seventy-five-
year-old Bartolomeo Ammanati was highly respected by everyone and
Giacomo della Porta was busy completing the dome on St. Peter’s Basilica.
Fontana may have been young, but he was supremely confident and wasn't
happy about being supervised. He was concerned that the two senior architects
would merely take his plans (and the credit) and do the work themselves. He
discussed this with his old friend, the Pope, who told Fontana to just go ahead
with the project on his own. His supervisors were probably relieved; they had
their own projects.
Fontana’s book on the project (Della Transportatione dell’Obelisco Vaticano)
has the only known portrait of the architect. He stares out with a beak-like
nose, close-cut thinning hair, and a short beard. In his arms he holds a miniature
of the obelisk he moved, around his neck is the medal the Pope awarded to
him; resting on a table are the tools of his trade—compass, set square, ink, and
quill. It is the portrait of a proud, confident professional.
When the Pope gave Fontana the ‘go ahead’ for the project, he issued a
Privilege to Fontana, the papal equivalent of a builder's contract. It gave the
young architect broad powers to conscript land, materials, and manpower
needed for the project. Fontana was justifiably proud of the confidence the
Pope placed in him, and published the Privilege in his book.
We, Sixtus V, grant the power and full authority to Domenico Fontana,
architect of the holy apostolic palace, in order that he may easily and quickly
transport the Vatican needle to the piazza of St. Peter's, to avail himself so
long as this transport lasts, of however so many workers, laborers, and their
things, if they wish, and to compel them if necessary, to lend or sell them to
him, satisfying them with due recompense ...
[ OBELISCO VATICANO.E DELLE

FABRICHE FATTE DA NOSTRO SIZ
: GNORE SISTO.V. LIBRO ope
pea. cs
~ Natalts Dorf oon Valmatinus Incedebat. a 1589. "Cum Priuileggo Sunset
Figure 3.1 Theign portrait of Domenico Fontana appears in his book Della
Transportatione Dell’Obelisco Vaticano. Fontana holds the lead model obelisk that
he used to obtain the commission from the Pope to move the obelisk.
God’ Architect 73
That he may (if this becomes necessary) tear down or have torn down
houses near the said needle, arranging however the first manner of restoring
the damage that will be incurred.
In sum, the said Domenico Fontana is given the power to do, command,
execute, and practice all the other things necessary to this end; and moreover,
along with his agents, servants, and domestic servants, he may bear any sort
of arms ...in any place and any time.’
Fontana was now “God's architect.”

His first step was to prepare the new foundation on which the obelisk would
rest, and he soon ran into trouble. When he dug down he discovered that the
earth was muddy and unstable, and he had to construct his own stable platform
nearly twenty-five feet beneath the surface. As a base he used pilings of twenty-
foot oak and chestnut logs stripped of their bark that he knew would not rot in
water. Once the logs were sunk into the mud, he placed on top of them a
mixture of flint chips, broken pieces of pottery and brick as a bed, and poured
his cement called pozzolano, which sets even when wet. The obelisk’s base
would last thousands of years.
At each level of the foundation, Fontana placed commemorative medals
especially struck for the occasion. One showed St. Francis kneeling before a
crucifix by a ruined church; the reverse bore the motto “Go Francis and repair.”
Others showed Pius V on one side and on the other the personification of
either Justice or Religion. The moving of the obelisk was not just a construction
project, it was an act of religious devotion. The Vatican needle had witnessed
the martyrdom of St. Peter; Fontana had been entrusted with a sacred task and
the religious medals would ensure its success.
The castello
The new pedestal would have to hold not only the 320-ton obelisk but also
the scaffolding or castle (castello), as Fontana called it, that would raise the
obelisk. The scaffold was a remarkable construction, unlike anything ever
built. Composed of hundreds of huge logs held together with specially
forged iron bands and chains, it would weigh many tons when completed.
Thousand of bolts had to be fabricated; nails couldn't be used because once
the obelisk was down, the scaffold had to be taken apart and then
reassembled to raise the obelisk on its new foundation. The castle was a
giant Erector Set.
With his Privilege in hand, Fontana began ordering and requisitioning the
materials he needed for his castello. He needed miles of thick ropes that would
be threaded through the pulleys and winches that would lower and raise the
obelisk. The city of Foligno provided the hemp that was brought back to Rome
where rope makers, walking backward, twisted it into the thick cords strong
enough, together, to support more than 400 tons. As the rope makers braided
the hemp, iron workers at Subiaco, thirty miles out of Rome, were forging the
blocks and pulleys through which the ropes would move. So many iron parts
were needed that another iron-making town, Ronciglione, was given the job of
forging the long, thick iron rods that would encase and protect the obelisk as it
was moved.
Prodigious quantities of wood were needed, so an army of woodcutters was
dispatched to the oak forests of Campomorto, near the port of Neptune.
Hundreds of trees that would become the castello were cut, stripped of their
bark and hewn into timber. Some of the trees were so large that enormous
carts pulled by seven pairs of oxen had to be specially built to haul the logs the
twenty-eight miles to Rome. Campomorto wasn't the only forest invaded by
Fontana’s men. Terracina supplied the elms from which boards to protect the
obelisk were cut. Santa Severa provided special oak, suitable for the shafts of
the windlasses, rollers, and crossbars.
Considerable architectural, engineering, and managerial skills were needed
to direct the army of ironmongers, carpenters, rope makers, and underlings
preparing to move the needle, but it took even more than that. Fontana had to
also be a politician. Moving the obelisk was not popular with everyone. It had
witnessed the martyrdom of Peter and many of the faithful thought it should
stay in place. Fontana countered this by explaining that the obelisk “had been
largely buried under the earth over the long period of time.’ He also pointed
out that it stood in a muddy, dilapidated area and was not easily found by
pilgrims. Fontana published an illustration showing the obelisk at its original
site. One feature that strikes the viewer is that it is not “largely buried under the
earth.” Part of the pedestal is covered, but that’s all. You can even see the
inscription of Tiberius on the base. Fontana is acting as a lawyer, presenting his
Gods Architect US
case for moving the obelisk. What surrounds the obelisk in the illustration is
another indication of Fontana’s public relations skills.
In front of the obelisk Fontana shows the other methods of moving the
obelisk that had been proposed by his rivals. Some show the obelisk being
moved upright; others show it moved at a 45-degree angle. All are impressive,
but look carefully in the upper left-hand corner and you will see the winning
Figure 3.2 The obelisk in its original setting, next to the old St. Peter's Basilica. At the
top is Fontana’s plan for moving it, lifted heavenward by two angels. His rivals’ plans
are earthbound.
proposal, Fontana’s beloved castello, supported by winged angels. He was

indeed God's architect.
At the very top of the obelisk rested a metal ball. For centuries the inhabitants
of Rome believed it contained the ashes of Julius Caesar. Because the obelisk
had the inscription DIVO CAESARI DIVE IULII (“Divine Caesar ...”), in
the Middle Ages people believed the obelisk didn't just honor Caesar but that
it was his burial place. One twelfth-century guide to Rome refers to the orb at
the top of the obelisk and says it is“where his ashes rest nobly in his sarcophagus.”
Before Fontana lowered the obelisk, he removed the ball and carefully
examined it; it was empty. Fontana’s examination showed that it is was cast in
one piece, so it couldn't have ever contained anything. It did, however, have a
few musket ball holes; it was too tempting a target for Roman soldiers. Long
forgotten, the orb can be seen today in the Palazzo dei Conservatori on the
Capitoline Hill.
One more feature in Fontana’s illustration is worth noting. Behind the
obelisk is the old St. Peter’s Basilica built by Constantine in the fourth century.
The round fort-like structure is the church’s sacristy. Fontana planned to first
lift and then pivot the obelisk horizontally so the point faced east, towards its
new destination. This meant that he would have to take down the wall of the
sacristy to put windlasses inside so he could pull the bottom of the obelisk
from the west. But that’s just what Papal Privileges are for; Fontana has opened
the wall so the obelisk could be moved.
Man is the measure
To Fontana’s many skills we must add mathematics. To lower the obelisk safely,
Fontana needed to calculate its weight. Then, and only then, could he determine
how many winches, pulleys, and ropes he would need. But determining the
obelisk’s weight was not a simple calculation. The units of measurement that
Fontana used for his calculations were not unlike those used by his ancient
Egyptian counterparts who had quarried, moved, and erected the obelisk. It
has always been natural for architects to use parts of the body as measurements.
The Egyptians used the distance between the elbow and the extended hand as
their basic unit of length, the cubit. Cubits were divided into palms and each
Gods Architect WH
palm consisted of four fingers. (Our unit, the foot, is a similar practice.) Later
the Greeks continued this tradition and used similar units to construct the
Parthenon. This is why when the Roman architect Vitruvius visited the
Acropolis to see the Parthenon he commented that “Man is the measure.” In
Fontana’s time, Leonardo da Vinci embodied this sentiment in his famous
drawing of a man with arms and limbs extended inside a circle. When Fontana
began his calculations, his basic unit of length was the palmo, the palm, which
was about 8.66 inches. For long lengths the cane was the unit, about 5.5 feet.
Weight was calculated in pounds (libri), but the Italian pound during the
Renaissance was about 0.7 of our pound.
When Fontana began calculating the obelisk’s weight, he ran into a
problem—he first had to determine its volume. The obelisk is not what in
geometry is called a regular or Platonic solid. Its sides are not rectangles with
right angles. It tapers towards the top, and at the pinnacle is a pyramidion. It is
highly irregular. Fontana started by measuring the obelisk at its base and found
it was slightly more than twelve palms—about nine feet square. At the top it
tapered to a six-foot square. From the top of the obelisk he dropped a plumb
bob to get an accurate length of the rectangular shaft—eighty feet. He now
knew that he was dealing with a shaft of granite eighty feet in length, six feet
wide at the top and nine at the bottom. He had his stonemasons cut a block of
granite of one cubic palm and weighed it. Now he needed to calculate how
many cubic palms there were in the obelisk, and this is where his mathematical
ingenuity came in.
Fontana began by imagining a rectangle the size of the smaller cross section
at the top extending downward inside the obelisk. This regular internal column,
he easily determined, was 7,024 cubic palms. The hard part was calculating
how many cubic palms remained in the rest of the obelisk that surrounded the
internal rectangle.
He realized that if he took one wedge-shaped side that was outside the
internal shaft and rotated it and then placed one of the other sides on top of it
(think about stacking wedges) he would have a regular small rectangular shaft.
Do this with the remaining two sides and you can calculate the number of
cubic palms. He then approximated the cubic palms in the pyramidion at the
top ofthe rectangular shaft and added all the cubic palms together (rectangular
internal shaft + four wedge-shaped sides + pyramidion) multiplied by 86
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Figure 3.3 To calculate the weight of the tapering obelisk, Fontana divided it into
regular solids. This diagram shows cross sections of the obelisk at different heights.
pounds (the weight of the sample cubic palm he had cut) and came to a
total of 963,587 pounds, which in modern pounds is 337, 255 tons—just about
right.
Once Fontana knew the weight of the obelisk, he calculated that he would
need forty windlasses to lift it. Windlasses were traditionally used on ships to
raise sails and anchors. The basic element is a gearbox in a horizontal wheel
around which rope is wound or unwound. Levers radiating from the wheel
give the men turning the wheel a mechanical advantage and greatly increase
the weight that can be lifted. Although the windlass is horizontal, the pull can
be converted vertically by running the rope through a pulley suspended above
the object to be lifted.
Windlasses would be Fontana’s main source of power to lift the obelisk off
its base but, as a backup, he also intended to insert five huge levers under the
obelisk so there would be extra lifting power if the windlasses were not
adequate. It was a brilliant plan, but not everyone was convinced it would
work. Could forty windlasses be used in tandem? Critics said that the
windlasses would not pull evenly, a greater share of the load would fall on a
few, and the ropes would break. Fontana himself had never seen so many
windlasses used in concert, but he had done tests. He had four large horses pull
with all their strength on one of the ropes and saw that they couldn't break it.
God’ Architect 79
From other tests, he knew that when a windlass was overloaded, friction greatly
increased and it wouldn't turn; thus the remaining moving windlasses would
eventually take up more of the weight and things would even out. Fontana
planned to monitor the windlasses as the work progressed. After every three or
four turns of the windlasses, work would be stopped so he could feel the
tension on the cords to make sure they were not near the breaking point.
However, before Fontana could use his windlasses, he had to prepare the
worksite.
Fontana had already prepared the foundation at the new site, but he had to
shore up the old site around the obelisk because it had to support the weight of
the castle. He sunk logs radiating out nearly forty feet from all four sides of the
obelisk so the scaffold would remain stable even as it strained under the weight
of the obelisk.
The castle was actually two halves on either side of the obelisk that were
joined at the top for stability. Think of a giant ladder with the obelisk standing
right in the middle. The structure was supported by four “masts” on each side
composed of four huge tree trunks that had been hand-hewn into gigantic
timbers. These tree-trunk/timbers were held together by iron hoops and
massive bolts going through the timbers. For additional strength, wood wedges
were hammered between the hoops and the timbers to maintain tightness. If
anything shifted during the work, the wedges could be adjusted.
The castle is not easy to visualize, so Fontana provided a wonderful
engraving. So that you can understand the basics of the construction, he has
not shown all the wood elements. On the outside of the scaffold, forty-eight
buttresses kept everything in place when the force of the obelisk being lowered
was transferred to the scaffold. Fontana hasn't drawn all forty-eight, but the
clearest ones to see are on the right side of the scaffold; they are the very long
timbers angled up to the very top.
Now, look again on the right-hand side of Figure 3.4. See those little guys
dangling from the ropes? They are pulling on the giant lever that was inserted
under the obelisk to give extra lifting power in addition to what the windlasses
would supply. In the foreground you can see a windlass being turned by a team
of men supervised by two master builders. On the left, Fontana has already
opened the sacristy wall of the old St. Peter’s so several winches could be
positioned inside to pull the bottom of the obelisk towards them.
F igure 3 4 The ca stello > the rigging for lifting the obelisk, was built from massive
timbers bolted together.
God's Architect 81
Fontana is never one to leave empty space in his illustrations. At the top he
displays all the blocks, pulleys, and tackle that were used to lower the obelisk.
The goddess to the right, below the blocks and tackle is Firmitas. The first-
century architect Vitruvius said that three things were necessary to build well:
commodity, firmness, and grace. Fontana had one of the commodities looking
down on his project. The one thing you can’ see in the illustration is the
obelisk, and that’s not an accident. The star of Fontana’s book is not the obelisk,
it’s his beloved castello.
You also can't see that the surface of the obelisk was protected by a double
layer of wood planks held together by an iron cage composed of strips that
were bolted together and ran the full length of the obelisk. The ropes going
through the blocks and tackles at the top of the scaffold were attached to this
iron cage. When the windlasses turned the ropes were reeled in, pulling straight
up on the cage, and the obelisk would rise off its pedestal straight up into the
air. At least that was Fontana’s plan.
When the Romans first set the obelisk on its pedestal they lowered it onto
four massive bronze nodules that Fontana called gnocchi (dumplings) but
which are traditionally called “astragals” because they resemble bones of the
foot. Thus the obelisk wasn't resting directly on its stone base; there was
daylight between the pedestal and the bottom of the obelisk and Fontana
capitalized on this feature. He threaded his iron cage under the obelisk and
up its sides so that when the windlasses turned and the pulleys transferred
the forces to the obelisk, it would be pulled from the bottom as well as from the
sides. The iron strapping alone weighed 40,000 pounds. The space between
the obelisk and pedestal enabled Fontana to insert the immense levers
supplementing the lifting force generated by the windlasses. It was a grand
plan, well thought out, but would it work? The truth is, no one was sure.
Fontana was clearly worried about the windlasses so he numbered each one
so that his foremen on top of the scaffold could shout down orders to the
master builders stationed by each one. “Ease up on windlass 32” would thus be
guaranteed a quick response. For weeks before the obelisk was to be lowered,
Fontana trained his teams. Three or four horses turned each windlass, and one
by one they were fine tuned till all had the same tension. Throughout the fall
and winter, preparations had gone forward, fashioning the iron straps and
pulleys, cutting the timber, pouring foundations, procuring horses, crafting the
windlasses, and testing them. Finally, on April 30, 1586 Fontana was ready to
lower his obelisk.
Show time
Two hours before dawn, two Masses were said and all workers involved in the
project took communion. Even before first light, the crowds had been growing.
For six months they had seen endless cartloads of iron and wood come into
Rome; this was the biggest show in town and no one wanted to miss it. A
barricade was set up around the work area and the entire police force of Rome
was called in to keep order. It was explained that any non-worker crossing the
barricade was subject to penalty of death. Strict silence was to be maintained by
all spectators so Fontana’s orders could be heard. To make absolutely certain
there could be no confusion of orders, a twenty-foot-high platform was
constructed for a trumpeter. When the workers heard the blast of the trumpet,
they were to begin turning the windlasses. High on top of the scaffold was a great
bell. When it was rung, work was to stop instantly. With a trumpet to signal
“begin” and a bell for “stop,” there wasn't going to be any confusion on this project.
At one end of the square twenty carters waited with twenty strong
replacement horses in case any of the windlass horses tired. At the very base of
the obelisk Fontana had twelve carpenters with sledgehammers and wedges
ready to hammer in the wedges when the obelisk began to rise. Thus the obelisk
would never be supported by ropes alone. These dozen carpenters were
supplied with iron helmets to protect them from bolts that might fall from the
top of the scaffold. Fontana had invented the hard hat!
Thirty men climbed high on the scaffold to monitor it for movement or
signs of weakness. Below, thirty-five men were positioned to work the three
levers inserted under the south side of the obelisk and another eighteen to
work the two levers at the north end. When dawn finally came it seemed as if
all of Rome had gathered to watch God’ work, as Fontana called it. There were
dukes and princes, cardinals, and foreigners who had traveled great distances
to see the obelisk move. Every window of every house that faced the square was
filled with heads, stretching to see something of the work. The Swiss Guards
and light cavalry were spread along the barricade to ensure order and silence.
God's Architect 83
Fontana asked all assembled, workers and spectators, to kneel and pray for a
successful outcome. When everyone rose, Fontana signaled the trumpeter and
almost immediately 907 men, 75 horses, and 40 windlasses moved as one. The
ground shook as with an earthquake and then a loud crack, like lightning, was
heard across the square. Immediately the bell was rung and work halted. One of
the iron hoops at the top of the castle had snapped. It was repaired and everything
was inspected carefully. Months earlier, when Fontana had dropped a plumb
line to measure the height of the obelisk, he had discovered it was leaning
slightly. Now, as he examined the scaffold, he saw that the obelisk was perfectly
upright. The first turns of the windlasses had moved it; the plan was working.
With the hoop repaired and the scaffold inspected, the trumpeter was told
to give the signal to commence and once again horses and men went into
motion. Slowly the obelisk rose into the air, but as it inched upward, more and
more iron bands snapped. Fontana later said they looked as if they had been
made of the softest material that had been cut by a knife. No longer confident
that the bands could support the obelisk, Fontana brought in more than a
quarter of a mile of the cord his rope makers had fashioned from hemp and
wrapped it around the obelisk and its iron basket. Securely encased in its giant
net, Fontana was confident the obelisk could once again move safely upward.
Throughout the day the trumpeter sounded, the windlasses turned and the
obelisk moved upward. Rope had trumped iron and supported the Vatican
needle. At dinner time, baskets of food were brought to the square so the
workers would not have to leave their stations. Fontana was not going to worry
about rounding up 907 men to begin the work after dinner. By ten oclock in
the evening, after fourteen motions of the windlasses, the obelisk had risen
more than two feet above its pedestal. Iron and wood wedges were hammered
into the space between the bottom of the obelisk and the pedestal, and with the
obelisk resting securely on wedges, everyone returned home. The first day, not
without its drama, ended in a resounding success.
The next day the astragals had to be removed because the next step was to
swing the obelisk’s bottom away from the pedestal so it could be lowered to the
ground. The bronze “dumplings” would block the obelisk from swinging freely. As
the men began removing the “dumplings,” they discovered the task was far more
difficult than anyone had expected. First, they were massive, weighing six hundred
pounds each. Second, each was cast as a single piece, so it couldn't be taken out in
sections. The biggest problem, however, was that on their top surfaces they had
projections like rectangular bars that extended more than a foot into the bottom
of the obelisk. For four days and four nights Fontana metalworkers and
stonemasons worked to move the bronze dumplings and finally succeeded. One
of the supports was brought to the Pope, who was delighted to see tangible
evidence of progress; once again the work of moving the obelisk could continue.
While the workers were removing the bronze supports, all the windlasses
and pulleys were repositioned for lowering the obelisk. The east side was left
completely free because that was where the obelisk was going to be lowered
onto its sled. Fontana didn’t want the obelisk supported only by the ropes so he
cut four 45-foot beams that would support the obelisk as it was lowered. They
inserted into the iron fittings that surrounded the obelisk and rested on rollers
so they could spread apart, like a tripod, as the obelisk neared the ground.
When the obelisk was closer to the ground, four shorter supports would be
substituted until the obelisk rested on its sled.
For eight days, Fontana checked the newly positioned windlasses, testing
the tensions, making sure they all worked in concert. Lowering the obelisk
required even more coordination than raising it straight up, above the pedestal.
‘The windlasses on the west side were attached to the bottom of the obelisk and
had to pull, but the other windlasses had to slacken but still maintain tension
as the obelisk went horizontal.
On May 7, Fontana was ready to lower the obelisk. When the trumpet
sounded, the four windlasses on the west side pulled the bottom and the tip of
the obelisk moved eastward. At various times the bell was rung, work stopped,
ropes were tightened and the timber supports checked. As the obelisk was
lowered, the massive sled on which it was to be pulled to the new site was slid
on rollers under it. Fontana provides an illustration of the obelisk at the
moment it was lowered to about 45 degrees. Perched on the top, a worker
checks the tension on the ropes. At about the midpoint of the obelisk, inside
the scaffold, we can see the tripod-like beams (darker wood) that supported
the obelisk as it was lowered. The beams rest on the giant sled that has been
placed beneath the obelisk. If you look closely—very closely—you will see the
ends of the log rollers on which the sled will be pulled to the new site. In the
foreground both men and horses turn windlasses. You can also make out two
coils of rope, each with its own attendant to make sure the lines don't foul.
God's Architect 85
Figure 3.5 The obelisk was lowered onto a sled so it could be winched to the new
St. Peter’s Basilica.
Water on the ropes!
There is a legend that at this point in the operation Fontana encountered his
greatest problem. As he continued to lower the obelisk there was too much
friction on the ropes and they were getting dangerously hot. As will be
remembered Fontana had erected a barrier to keep the onlookers back and
had also instituted a policy of complete silence. When the ropes began to
smoke, it was clear to all watching that something was wrong. Suddenly, from
86 Cleopatra's Needles
behind the barrier, a shout shattered the silence: “Acque alle funi!” “Water on
the ropes!” The cry came from an old sailor, Bresca di Bordighera, who knew
what to do from his years at sea. Water was immediately poured on the ropes,
they cooled, and the day was saved.
It is a wonderful story, but the problem is that another version of “Water on
the ropes!” appears with respect to a different construction project in a letter
written in 1555, thirty years before Fontana moved his obelisk. Fontana’s
moving of the obelisk was very closely watched by all of Rome and there are no
contemporary versions of the story; it doesn’t appear in print till the eighteenth
century. It simply didn't happen. All indications are that the obelisk was
lowered throughout the day without any such drama.
By 10:00 p.m. the obelisk was safely resting on its sled. The crowd had stayed
all day and was overjoyed to see their obelisk safely on the ground. Accompanied
by drums and trumpets, they paraded the triumphant architect to his home.
Fontana did not rest long. The next day he returned with his workers to
dismantle the windlasses, pulleys, and eventually the scaffold. The process took
four days. Four of the windlasses were moved to the east side of the obelisk and
were used to pull the obelisk on its sled completely clear of the scaffolding.
Fontana did not want anything falling and damaging the obelisk as the
workmen dismantled the scaffold. The pieces of the castello were carefully
numbered so they could be easily reassembled when it was time to raise the
obelisk.
With the obelisk moved clear of the castello and the scaffolding disassembled,
Fontana’ next chore was to dig out the pedestal from the debris that had
buried it for centuries. He soon discovered that the pedestal was actually in
three pieces, one large cube on top of another, with a molding in between
them. The uppermost block, on which the obelisk had rested, was roughly an
eight-foot cube and was totally above ground. It was placed on rollers and
moved to the new site at St. Peter's Square. The molding was a thinner, eleven-
foot square that rested on the third piece. When Fontana dug out the second
block, he was surprised to find that it was slightly narrower than the top block.
Almost always a pedestal tapers to the top. He concluded that two architects
were involved, one designing the bottom and the other the top. Fontana clearly
didn't like the top-heavy pedestal and wanted to make a new one, but there was
no stone large enough in all of Rome, and there was no time to quarry one now.
God’ Architect 87
At the new site Fontana was forced to reassemble the three blocks as they had
been. This he did on top of the log-and-cement foundation that he had laid
earlier. Again, he threw in more medals but this time he added a marble plaque
inscribed in Latin with the Pope’s name, a brief account of how the obelisk was
moved, and the name of Domenico Fontana so he too could be part of this
time capsule.
The “transportation” of the obelisk
Once the pedestal was reassembled the “dumplings” were put back in place and
the site was now ready for the reassembly of the scaffold. As this took place, the
next step was to transport the obelisk the 260 yards (115 canes) to St. Peter’s
Square, and this is where geography worked in Fontana’s favor. St. Peter’s
Square was thirty feet lower in elevation than the original site of the obelisk—
almost exactly the height of the pedestal. Fontana had two choices. Plan A: Pull
the obelisk on its sled downhill to the new site and then lift it up thirty feet in
the air to set it on the pedestal. Plan B: Build an elevated roadway for the
obelisk so that it would remain perfectly horizontal as it traveled. This way,
when the obelisk arrived at St. Peter’s, it would be just above the pedestal and
wouldnt have to be lifted very high.
Fontana chose Plan B, so a causeway seventy-five feet wide at the bottom
and thirty-five at the top was constructed of earth, reinforced by wood
buttresses. Huge beams were inserted through the width of the causeway and
bolted together so the earth wouldn't slide under the great weight it would
support. When the obelisk moved on top of it, pulled by several windlasses, it
looked something like a railroad trestle. When the causeway reached St. Peter's,
it was greatly widened and strengthened to accommodate the castello. With the
scaffold re-erected, the obelisk, still on its sled, was pulled under it, the ropes
attached and run through pulleys and threaded into the forty windlasses that
had been repositioned to raise the obelisk. The plan was to raise it with the sled
still attached as this would provide an extra layer of protection for the needle.
In the predawn of September 10, 1586 two Masses were celebrated, everyone
prayed for a successful outcome, and Fontana’ highly trained team took up
their stations. Once again, the trumpet blew, the windlasses turned, and the tip
Figure 3.6 The obelisk on the causeway leading to the new location.
of the obelisk began its slow skyward journey. As the tip rose, four specially
positioned windlasses pulled at the bottom of the obelisk so it moved in the
direction opposite to the way the tip was moving. When the obelisk reached 45
degrees, the bell was sounded and food was delivered to the site so the workers
could eat. After dinner the process continued—three turns of the windlasses,
inspection of the scaffold and ropes, and then three more turns. Experience
lowering the obelisk had taught Fontana that he couldn't trust the iron bands
to support it, so this time he began with rope reinforcements and there was far
less drama. It took fifty-two turns of the windlasses, but at 9:00 p.m. the obelisk
was upright and the signal was given to fire cannons to let the city know that
the obelisk was upright. Rome rejoiced, but Fontana’s work was not over.
God’ Architect 89
Tr PISPOMTIONE I VUWTA CENeALE DELLE MACHINE CHE SERVIRONO PER ALIARD, LOBPLASCO VATICANO ON \
mS ag=
yO
Figure 3.7 Erecting the obelisk in St. Peter’s Square was a brilliant piece of planning
and organization.
The obelisk still had to be adjusted to its final position on the pedestal. For
the next four days, pulleys and windlasses were repositioned for the obelisk’s
fine tuning. On the final day of the great project, the windlasses were tightened
slightly, raising the obelisk just a bit so four massive fifty-foot levers could be
slipped under the needle. When a team of men pulled downward on the ends
of the levers, the obelisk would rise a bit and wedges were hammered in place.
With the obelisk resting on wedges, the sled was finally removed. Now that the
obelisk was free of its sled, the 600-pound bronze supports were reattached to
the pedestal. Once again the windlasses were turned a bit and the obelisk rose
so the wedges could be removed and the obelisk lowered onto its “dumplings.”
But something new had been added. Fontana really didn't like the dumplings
and he commissioned the sculptor Prospero Bresciano to create four recumbent
lions for each corner of the obelisk to hide the dumplings. So that it could
be viewed with full effect from all angles, each lion has two heads, one for
each side of the obelisk. By now it was dark and Fontana and his workers
called it a day.
The next day, Fontana suspended a plumb bob from the top of the obelisk
to its base to determine true vertical. He then added bronze plates to some of
the “dumplings” so the obelisk would be perfectly upright. Finally, with the
obelisk securely resting on its dumplings, now hidden by bronze lions, the
iron cage and protective wood planks were removed and the obelisk was
completely uncovered. Fontana had succeeded in the incredible task of moving
the obelisk.
Fontana’s accomplishment was one of the great engineering triumphs of the
Renaissance, but the goal was not just physical. The obelisk was a symbol of
Christianity’s triumph over paganism; Rome's needle was seen as a lofty and
graceful pedestal for the Holy Cross. The show was not yet over. The Pope had
ordered that a ritual of exorcism be performed on the obelisk.
Casting out the devils
The ritual of exorcism is intended to cast out Satan and his demons and was
not taken lightly by the Church. Only a specially trained priest could perform
it. While the ritual was normally performed on a person, objects too could be
exorcised and clearly the obelisk was viewed as a pagan monument that could
house malevolent forces. In a sense, there was a double whammy on the obelisk:
Egyptian and Roman. The Egyptians had quarried the obelisk, and the church
had their gods to contend with. Then there were the early Romans who had
confiscated and moved the obelisk to Rome; they were pagans also, so both
Egyptian and Roman gods had to be exorcised.
On the morning of September 26, 1586, Bishop Ferratini held a Mass and
then led a procession of more than three-dozen cardinals, bishops, monsignors,
and other dignitaries up the obelisk’s earthwork causeway to an altar that had
been set up. Between six giant burning candles, holy water and hyssop had
been laid in preparation for the ritual. Hyssop was the herb used by the
Israelites to paint their door posts with lamb’s blood so the Angel of Death
would pass over their homes; it is also used by the church to dab holy water on
objects to be purified.
God’ Architect 91
The bishop purified and blessed the obelisk with holy water. Then, with his
hand outstretched to the obelisk he began: “I exorcise you ...” and performed
the ritual of exorcism. After the ceremony, part of the exorcism ritual was
carved on the east side of the obelisk’s base:
ECCE CRVX DOMINI

FVGITE
PARTESADVERSAE
VICEL
LEO DE TRIBV IVDA
Behold the Cross of the Lord! Flee Adversaries. The Lion of Judea has conquered.
Bishop Ferratini then walked around the obelisk three times and, with a
knife that had been blessed, inscribed the sign of the cross on the obelisk’s
four sides. Next, a gilded seven-and-a-half-foot-high cross was placed on
the altar and after it too was blessed, it was hoisted and fixed on top of the
obelisk by Fontana’s workers. The triumph of Christianity was complete.
Trumpets were sounded, prayers recited, and all present received an indulgence
of fifteen years!
An indulgence is the remission of temporal punishment for sins that have
already been forgiven. Once the sinner has confessed and received absolution,
the indulgence can be given for good works or for prayers. During the Middle
Ages, pardoners rode circuits visiting those who did not live near a church. A
corrupt pardoner is lampooned in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales for selling
indulgences. The fifteen-year indulgence given by the Pope to those present at
the exorcism relieved them of fifteen years’ suffering in purgatory, but that was
not the end of his generosity. Pope Sixtus V granted a further indulgence of ten
years and ten periods of forty days to anyone who passing the obelisk, said an
Our Father and a Hail Mary, and knelt before the cross to pray for the good
fortune of the Holy Church and its pontiff.
Today it is still possible to obtain crosses, rosaries, and medals blessed by
the Pope with indulgences attached to them. The practice of objects with
indulgences attached began with Sixtus V and the Vatican Obelisk but did not
end there. After the Vatican Obelisk, the Pope had Fontana erect another
obelisk at the Lateran Basilica. Here too some old walls had to be removed, and
in the process the workmen found a hoard of ancient coins with the cross on
one side and early Christian emperors on the other. The coins were distributed
Sy Cleopatra’s Needles
and Sixtus V granted indulgences to those who possessed them. He issued a

special Bull, “Laudemus viros gloriosos, on December 1, 1587, spelling out the
benefits of these coins.
When the last religious rituals were performed on the Vatican Obelisk,
Sixtus had a commemorative inscription cut on the top of the obelisk’s west
face: “Sixtus V, Supreme Pontiff, consecrates this stone to the Most Holy Cross,
this stone torn away and stolen from its original place under Augustus and
Tiberius Caesar. The inscription is interesting for several reasons. It is no
surprise that it announces the obelisk is now consecrated to the Most Holy
Cross. What is surprising is the selection of verbs used to describe the original
moving of the obelisk to Rome—“torn away and stolen’—and that he names
as the pagan thieves Augustus and Caesar. Caligula, who in AD 37 built the
largest ship ever just to bring the obelisk to Rome, had been forgotten.
Another inscription placed on the obelisk indicates the Pope’s generosity
and appreciation for what Fontana had achieved. On the east face of the
obelisk’s base is a brief inscription attesting that it was Domenico Fontana who
moved and erected the obelisk. Fontana was also made a Knight of the Golden
Spur, a papal order of chivalry given to those who have contributed to the
glory of the Church, either by feat of arms, writing, or other illustrious acts.
Fontana was in good company. Before him, the artists Raphael and Titian had
been awarded the Golden Spur and after him it would be awarded to, among
others, a fourteen-year-old musical composer named Wolfgang Amadeus
Mozart.
Fontana would go on to complete other projects for the Pope, including re-
erecting a third, small obelisk. He assisted in completing the dome of St. Peter's,
moved an entire chapel in one piece, and constructed an aqueduct to bring
water to the highest of Rome’s seven hills. When Sixtus died in 1590, Fontana
did some work for the new pope, Clement VIII, but fell out of favor and moved
to Naples were he died in 1607, aged 63.
When Fontana moved the Vatican Obelisk in 1586 he was the first in more
than 1,500 years to attempt such a feat, completing the task in less than a year
and with no loss of life. It would be another 250 years before anyone else would
attempt to move a large obelisk.
Napoleon's Obelisk
Fontanas moving of the Vatican obelisk, one of the great engineering

achievements of the Renaissance, was a complicated, difficult, and risky project
and took someone with a great ego to accomplish it. When another obelisk
finally was moved, it was due, indirectly, to another great ego, Napoleon
Bonaparte.
Napoleon on the Nile
In the spring of 1798, Bonaparte was a 28-year-old general fresh from a victorious
Italian campaign. He was an undefeated hero and the toast of Paris, but it is
dangerous to have an unemployed hero around so the Directory, the ruling body
of France, placed him in charge of their “Army of England” which was preparing
to invade Britain. Napoleon inspected the ships and troops for the invasion and
declared he wanted no part of a major naval battle. He suggested as an alternative
that he invade Egypt (which had no navy) and thus cut off England's land route
to India, striking a fatal blow to Britain's economy. Although Bonaparte gave
solid political reasons for his Egyptian Campaign he had his own agenda. He
wanted to follow in the footsteps of his hero, Alexander the Great, and said as
much. “My glory is declining. This little corner of Europe is too small to supply
it. We must go East. All the great men of the world have there acquired their
celebrity.’ Yes, he would colonize Egypt, but he would do more. He would also
reveal the hidden Orient to Europe and thus increase his greatness. Less than
three months after his proposal, Bonaparte set sail for Egypt.
Sailing from Toulon on May 19, 1798, Napoleon took with him more than
17,000 troops and 700 horses. To all but a few, the destination was kept secret.
Napoleon had been authorized to occupy Egypt, free her of the tyrannical rule of
the Mamelukes, expel the English from the east, take possession of the shores of
the Red Sea, and cut the isthmus of Suez with a canal. It was an ambitious plan,
but Napoleon intended to accomplish even more. Along with his troops and
machinery of war, he brought a second, smaller army of more than 150 engineers,
scientists, and scholars to study and describe both ancient and modern Egypt.
Many of the savants were distinguished members of the National Institute and
they included Gaspard Monge, a physicist who helped assemble the team and
who became its leader; Claude-Louis Berthollet, a chemist; Jean-Baptiste Fourier,
the mathematician after whom the Fourier equations are named; Déodat de
Dolomieu, the mineralogist after whom the Dolomite mountains are named;
and the brilliant young naturalist, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. With them Bonaparte
also brought architects, surveyors, and cartographers to map Egypt and its
monuments. There were also artists such as Vivant Denon, who later became the
first Director of the Louvre. Officially called The Commission of Arts and
Sciences, these men would found the modern discipline of Egyptology.
When the fleet finally landed at Alexandria on July 1, 1798, the troops found
a sleepy town in the last throes of decay. They met little resistance, and were
soon in control of the city. The next few weeks were spent organizing troops
and marching to the capital, Cairo, where they would soon find themselves
engaged in a battle that would add to Napoleon’s growing legend. A fierce
warrior class called the Mamelukes controlled Egypt, and they were not about
to give it up. “Mameluke” is Arabic for “bought man.” Around the year 1230 the
Ayyubid sultan ruling Egypt brought 12,000 youths from the Caucasus
Mountains to form an elite corps for his army. They were trained in the art of
warfare, given the best of everything, and when they matured they killed the
sultan in 1252 and ruled Egypt until the Turkish conquest of 1517. Although
the Mamelukes were ostensibly obedient to the Sublime Porte, as Constantinople
was called, they ruled Egypt as they pleased and paid Turkey only a smail
portion of the taxes they ruthlessly extracted from the peasants.
When news reached Cairo that the French army was marching from
Alexandria, the Mamelukes massed for battle. Approximately 6,000 mounted
Mamelukes and more than 10,000 of their foot soldiers faced an even greater
number of French infantry and artillery. The battle presented a striking contrast
in combat styles. The Mamelukes were dressed in colorful silks and wore
Napoleons Obelisk o5
turbans. Each had several pairs of pistols, as well as scimitars, lances, swords,
and other hand weapons, many encrusted with jewels. They were followed into
battle by servants running behind the horses to reload the spent pistols.
As the Mamelukes pranced in the distance, Napoleon, on his white horse,
rode in front of his troops, pointed to the pyramids eight miles in the distance
and said, “Soldiers, from these heights forty centuries of history look down
upon you.” In contrast to the fierce but undisciplined Mamelukes, Napoleon's
troops were a well-constructed machine. They formed five battle squares with
Figure 4.1 When Bonaparte invaded in 1798, Egypt was controlled by the
Mamelukes, a fierce warrior class.
artillery at the corners, riflemen at the sides, and cavalry inside the squares in
case they were broken. The French were instructed to hold fire until the
charging Mamelukes were almost on top of them. The first charge was decisive:
The French held their fire, the Mamelukes charged, and when the French
finally fired, hundreds of Mamelukes fell. The Mamelukes regrouped, made
several more attempts to break the squares but suffered even greater casualties.
Finally the Mamelukes rode off in defeat, heading south into Upper Egypt. It
was clear they were no match for a western army.
The French took control of Cairo, the officers and savants established
themselves in the hastily vacated Mameluke palaces, and the soldiers prepared
for a long sojourn. Peace did not last long. On August 1 England’s Admiral
Horatio Nelson sailed into Abukir Bay off Alexandria where Admiral Brueys
had anchored Napoleon’s thirteen fighting ships and four frigates. Nelson had
been searching for Bonaparte’s fleet ever since he had heard they had left
France, but because the destination was a well-kept secret he had to search
throughout the Mediterranean before he found them.
Brueys had anchored the French fleet at Abukir Bay, close to shore to protect
the landward side of the ships from attack, and mounted all the cannons
pointing seaward so that if the enemy found him, all the firepower was on the
enemy. The British discovered the anchored French fleet in the late afternoon
and Nelson did two unexpected things. First, he decided to fight right then and
there. Normally battles were fought during the day; beginning in the late
afternoon guaranteed a night fight. Second, Nelson took the gamble that Brueys
had not anchored the French fleet close enough to the shore, and sailed his fleet
between the French ships and the shore. With all the French guns mounted
seaward and the enemy landward, the French were almost literally sitting ducks.
As Egyptians watched from the shore, the battle continued into the night
with cannon fire and burning ships illuminating the sky. Admiral Brueys on
the LOrient, the largest fighting ship in the world, had both legs shot off by a
cannonball but refused to be taken below to the infirmary. He was placed in a
chair, tourniquets tied around the stumps of his legs, and continued to
command on the bridge until he was hit and killed by a second cannonball.
Brueys was not alone in his heroism.
Throughout the night the British pounded away at the French fleet, sinking
ship after ship. The Orient had been used to store the army’s gunpowder and
Napoleons Obelisk oF
when it caught fire, it was clearly doomed. When the fire reached the powder
magazine it exploded with a deafening roar that could be heard fifty miles away,
a noise so loud that everyone was shocked and stopped fighting for ten minutes.
With the French fleet destroyed, Napoleon was now cut off from France,
reinforcements, and supplies. Nelson simply sailed away, saying that Napoleon
was in a jam and would not get out of it. The Admiral had no intention of
fighting on land. When Bonaparte received the bad news in Cairo, he issued an
Order of the Day. It doesn’t mention defeat, merely the glory with which his
sailors covered themselves at the Battle of the Nile, as it would come to be
known.
In spite of this setback, the savants settled into their tasks. The senior men,
Monge, Berthollet, and a one-legged general named Louis Caffarelli, who was
in charge of financial and administrative matters, were housed in the palace of
Hassan Kashef in Cairo. The botanists set up their experiments in the garden
of Qassim Bey’s palace. Saint-Hillaire was ecstatic about the space and was
soon helping set up chemistry labs and collecting mineral, botanical, and
zoological specimens.
As soon as the savants settled into their quarters, Bonaparte wanted
something formal to guide their research. On August 21, he held a meeting to
found the Institut d’Egypte, the world’s first Egyptological Society, but soon
Bonaparte had other matters to deal with.
The Turks were massing in Syria to reclaim Egypt, and Napoleon was forced
to march to Acre to head off the invasion. On the way, a major battle was fought
at Jaffa where more than 4,000 Turks and Moroccans were captured. By this
time Napoleon's army was being ravaged by the plague and having difficulty
finding food, so there was no way to hold all those captives. Napoleon ordered
them to be killed.
On March 17, 1799 Napoleon began the siege of Acre. Djezzar Pasha, who
was known as “The Butcher” because of his cruelty, camped his troops inside
the fortress that had its back on the water. Normally the siege tactic was to
starve out those inside, but the British sent Admiral Sidney Smith to supply
rations and expertise from the water, so Napoleon found himself in the
unfortunate position of having to attack the fort with inadequate artillery.
Trenches were dug, and assaults were repeatedly mounted, but each time the
French sustained heavy losses and were forced to withdraw. Finally on May 20,
1799 the French army, now suffering from ophthalmia, an eye disease, and the
plague, returned to Cairo. It was Bonaparte’s first defeat on land.
The Egyptian Campaign was not going well, but things were also going poorly
back in France, so on the night of August 23, 1799 Napoleon, realizing the
campaign was a lost cause, secretly sailed for France. He did not even say farewell
to General Jean-Baptiste Kléber, for whom he left a letter appointing him
Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Orient. Kléber, a seasoned veteran of
war, knew there was no hope for the Egyptian Campaign and began negotiating
an honorable peace but was assassinated by a fanatic from Syria. General Abdullah
Menou succeeded him. Menou had converted to Islam to marry a bathkeeper’s
daughter and had the respect of neither the Egyptians nor the French.
For three years, while a hopeless war raged, the savants scoured Egypt
looking for temples, tombs, and artifacts to study. They studied the Rosetta
Stone, sketched the first accurate plans of Luxor and Karnak Temples, mapped
the Valley of the Kings, and, of course, measured and charted the pyramids.
But Egypt's obelisks held a special fascination for them. They took the first
detailed measurements of the two obelisks at Luxor Temple and the standing
one at Alexandria. Their precise, architectural drawings of the obelisks are a far
cry from the fanciful engravings produced by Kircher a century earlier.
Napoleon's savants took the study of obelisks to a new level, all while working
under the most difficult of conditions.
When a treaty with England was finally signed in 1801, one of the terms of
the agreement was that the collections formed by the scientists were to be
turned over to the English. The savants refused, declaring they would rather
burn them than hand them over. The British permitted the scientists to keep
their drawings and specimens, but the antiquities were another story. They all
went to England and eventually the British Museum. The most famous of all
the Egyptian antiquities in the Museum, the Rosetta Stone, is yet another
legacy of Napoleon Bonaparte’s Egyptian Campaign.
When the victorious British signed their treaty, it was suggested that they
bring one of the two Alexandria obelisks home as a monument to the brave
soldiers who had lost their lives. The officers and enlisted men happily agreedto
donate a percentage of their salary to pay to remove the obelisk. This was the first
time the English had thought about bringing a large obelisk home and it was not
a carefully thought-out plan. It was soon realized that such an endeavor was well
Napoleons Obelisk 99
&&
-
Figure 4.2 Bonaparte’s savants conducted the first scientific study of Egypt's obelisks
and published their findings in the Description de l’Egypte.
beyond their means and the idea was abandoned. The British had won the battle
for Egypt, but it would be the French who brought an obelisk home first. The
reason was mainly Egyptological: the French had a deeper interest in Egypt and
its archaeology than the English. Although Bonaparte’s army had suffered a
disastrous defeat in Egypt, the savants’ accomplishments were an intellectual
triumph. They discovered the Rosetta Stone that enabled a Frenchman, Jean-
Francois Champollion, to decipher the ancient Egyptian language.
Soon after Bonaparte returned to France he was proclaimed First Consul.
When the savants finally returned to France, Bonaparte authorized funds for the
publication of their work, to be called Description de Egypte. The publication was
to cover everything—the ancient monuments, natural history, and modern Egypt
(c. 1800), and was to include the first comprehensive map of Egypt. Edme Jomard,
one of the expedition’s young engineers, was named editor and solicited drawings,
paintings, and research papers from his colleagues. A small army of engravers
transferred the savants’ drawings to copper plates so they could be printed.
Nothing like the Description had ever been attempted. One thousand sets
were printed, each containing nearly a thousand large engravings, so
approximately one million large sheets of paper had to be made by hand, each
page bearing the watermark, “Egypt Ancienne et Moderne.” It was not until
1809 that the first installment was published and then there were repeated
problems. Bonaparte, losing patience, decreed that the entire project had to be
completed by 1811, but that deadline was missed by more than a decade.
To speed production, five different printing companies were used to handle
the job and Jean-Joseph Marcel, one of the two printers who went to Egypt
with Bonaparte, now Director of the Imprimerie Nationale, oversaw the first
installments. Because Bonaparte ordered that the maps of Egypt should remain
“under the seal of a state secret,” the map volume was the last to be published.
Even after his exile, the maps were still considered state secrets, delaying their
publication until 1828, seven years after the Emperor’s death on St. Helena.
When the Description was finally complete, five massive volumes of engravings
depicted the Antiquities, with three volumes for Natural History, and two of
Modern Egypt. Here were the first detailed realistic representations of the
obelisks of Egypt. France was now in the forefront of Egyptology and would
not relinquish that position for more than a century. While all of France was
caught up with the fascination for things Egyptian, the British seemed only
Napoleon’ Obelisk 101
mildly interested. Still, England, not France, was given the next chance to bring
an obelisk home. The offer was political.
As the Description de Egypte was being published, Egypt herself was not
faring so well. When the British evacuated the country in 1803 they left a power
vacuum. Ostensibly the Ottoman Empire was once again in charge with the
Mamelukes subservient to them, but after Napoleon the dynamics had changed.
The Mamelukes returned to Cairo from Upper Egypt to where they had fled,
and the Ottoman government sent troops to Egypt to re-establish control.
Many of these troops were Albanians who had not been paid for months and
were grumbling. With limited funds to pay for its army, the Sublime Porte (the
Sultan) disbanded the Albanians in the army in order to pay his own Turkish
soldiers. The Albanians turned on the Turks, beginning nearly a decade of civil
discontent in Egypt between three factions—Turks, Albanians, and Mamelukes.
In the end, an Albanian officer named Mohamed Ali firmly established himself
as ruler of Egypt in a brutal coup like something out of the Arabian Nights.
After much in-fighting, Mohamed Ali was given the title Governor (Pasha)
of Egypt by the Ottoman government, but the Mamelukes, though temporarily
peaceful, presented a threat to his power. On March 1, 1811, Mohamed Ali
invited 470 Mamelukes to the citadel, an imposing fortress that was his palace/
residence, to take part in the installation of his son as Commander of the
Army. When the Mamelukes arrived, they were served coffee and then formed
a procession on their horses. As soon as they reached the citadel’s courtyard,
the gates were bolted shut and Mohamed Ali’s troops began firing down from
the walls on the unsuspecting Mamelukes, slaughtering them all. Legend has it
that one escaped by leaping onto his horse from the ramparts. It would have
been an incredible feat if true, but what is certain is that Mohamed Ali was now
the undisputed ruler of Egypt. He would prove to be a despot, but a progressive
one, eager to modernize Egypt and form ties with European powers.
Would the English like an obelisk?
Mohamed Ali realized how much he owed to the British forces and in 1811
asked Samuel Briggs, the British consul, what present would be a proper gift
for George III (“Mad King George”). Briggs suggested one of the two obelisks
at Alexandria and Mohamed Ali offered an obelisk in gratitude for what the
English had done for Egypt, but the British didn’t act on it and nothing
happened. In 1820 Mohamed Ali again offered an obelisk, this time to George
IV, who had succeeded George III. When the British government learned that
it would cost 15,000 pounds to retrieve their obelisk, they again did nothing to
bring the obelisk to England. In 1831 Mohamed Ali offered the obelisk to
Figure 4.3, Champollion suggested that the French take one of the obelisks in front
of Luxor Temple because they were in the best condition. Denon, who was with
Bonaparte’s expedition in 1798, drew the obelisks as they were then. Thirty-five years
later the French took the one on the right to Paris.
William IV, and even offered to move it onto any ship the English sent to pick
it up, but again Britain failed to take action.
England was not the only European power that Mohamed Ali was courting
and he also offered the French an Alexandrian obelisk. Unlike the British, they
sprung into action and accepted. However, Champollion had just made his
first visit to Egypt, seen all the obelisks, and suggested that France instead ask
Figure 4.4 Early in the negotiations for an obelisk, the British were given one at
Karnak. Even if they had wanted to take it, they couldn't have moved it because it was
surrounded by ancient buildings.
for one of the two obelisks in front of Luxor Temple as they were in far better
condition than the pair at Alexandria.
They are such insignificant little things compared with those of Luxor. If an
Egyptian obelisk should be seen in Paris, it should be one of those from
Luxor; there will still remain another one at Karnac, the most handsome of
all, but I will never give my support to a plan (for which there is no need) to
cut one of these magnificent monoliths into two or three pieces to move it.
That would be sacrilege!’
There were actually two standing obelisks at Karnak Temple but they are
surrounded by other buildings and would have had to be cut into sections to
remove. So, with this report from Champollion, the French turned their
attention to the Luxor obelisks.
Three obelisks are better than one
Baron d’Haussez, acting for the French government, wrote to Mohamed Ali on
November 25, 1829, requesting one of the Luxor obelisks. Mohamed Ali agreed
and the French immediately began designing a ship, the Luxor, to bring the
obelisk home. The ship had unique specifications. Because of the shape and
density of its cargo, the usual length-to-width ratio was not possible. Also, the
Luxor, in addition to being seaworthy, had to be capable of sailing on shallow
rivers (the Nile and Seine) and it had to be narrow enough to pass under the
bridges over the Seine. Further, it had to be able to land on a beach to permit
the obelisk to be loaded into the hull. Unlike the British, the French were
enthusiastic when it came to acquiring obelisks. As the construction of the
Luxor progressed, Baron Taylor was appointed Commissioner of the King of
France to the Pasha of Egypt. His mission was to get in writing the gift of more
than one obelisk; as many as possible! The negotiation had its difficulties.
Mohamed Ali had recently promised the Luxor obelisks to Mr. Baker, the
English Consul!? Taylor worked out an arrangement where in exchange for
their Luxor obelisks the British were given one at Karnak. This probably didn't
matter much to the British, as they didn’t seem eager to move any obelisk. In
the end, Mohamed Ali granted France both Luxor obelisks and the standing
obelisk at Alexandria. Unlike the English, the French moved into action
quickly. Even before the Luxor was completed, the Dromadaire was sent to
Alexandria, to lower the standing obelisk and return with it to France.
The Dromadaire was not specially built to bring home an obelisk and was
too large to sail up the Nile so the only obelisk it could bring back was one on
the Alexandrian coast. In their hurry to retrieve an obelisk, the French had not
realized that timber was not readily available in Egypt and there was not enough
wood for the scaffolding needed to take down a standing obelisk; consequently
the plan was abandoned and the Dromadaire returned to France with its hold
empty. Now French hopes rested on the Luxor, which, on April 15, 1831 sailed
from Toulon for Egypt, just as Bonaparte had done three decades earlier.
Apollinaire Lebas to the rescue
Apollinaire Lebas, the engineer responsible for bringing the obelisk to Paris,
left a remarkable account of its transportation. Perhaps most remarkable is the
first sentence. “The brilliant and rapid conquest of Egypt by the French Army
is inscribed in the annals of history. .. ”* He seems not to know that the French
lost! Lebas, however, is not the only Frenchman to wax poetic about Bonaparte’s
victories in Egypt. Lieutenant Léon de Joannis, second in command on board
the Luxor, who also published his memoir of the adventure, begins by extolling
Bonaparte’s achievements in Egypt? and also credits Bonaparte with the idea of
bringing an obelisk to France.
France was now interested in all the obelisks it could procure and Count de
Sebastiani relayed the French government's orders to Lebas.
If, as I presume, only one obelisk will fit on the Luxor, the operation will be
made twice, it will be necessary to begin with the one on the right, which was
said to be the more precious, as you will see from the copy here appended of
a letter by Mr. Champollion the younger, who has recently seen and translated
the inscriptions.
Neither Count de Sebastiani nor Lebas realized how difficult it would be to

bring one obelisk home, nor that it would be five years before the citizens of
Paris would see their obelisk erected in the Place de la Concorde.
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Figure 4.5 Frederick Norden’s 1737 engraving and caption of Alexandria's fallen
obelisk spread the false belief that the obelisk was broken.
When Lebas arrived in Alexandria in the spring of 1830, he had to wait

twenty days for the French Consul to return to the city. It would be the first of
many delays, but it gave him a chance to visit the two Alexandrian obelisks and
to see what he would have to deal with in Luxor. One obelisk still rested on its
pedestal, but the second had fallen centuries ago and was half covered with
sand. It is widely believed that it fell during the earthquake of 1301, but that is
far from established. Because it was covered in sand, many early travelers
wrongly believed it was broken. Norden’s 1757 illustration of the fallen obelisk
bears the caption “A broken obelisk, fallen down, and partly buried.”®
On June 6 the Consul was finally in Alexandria and Lebas, accompanied by
him, met with Mohamed Ali. Lebas was extremely short and the Pasha made a
joke of it, pretending not to see him and asking, “Where is the engineer?”
Despite the joke, they hit it off very well and Lebas, armed with permissions
from the Pasha, was soon on his way to Luxor. The Luxor could not sail
immediately because the water was too low for it to pass over a large sandbar
in the middle of the Nile, so Lebas left with a small fleet of boats and brought
with him all the equipment he would need to lower the obelisk. Later, when the
Luxor caught up with him, he would load the obelisk on board. On his way
south he had an audience with the Governor of Cairo, who informed him that
there was a crack in the obelisk he intended to take. Neither Champollion nor
any books describing the obelisk had mentioned a crack, so Lebas, convinced
the Governor was wrong, continued happily on his way south.
Luxor at last
A month later Lebas and his flotilla of small boats approached Luxor. Word had
already spread that a fleet of Europeans was near and a crowd awaited him on
the bank. Most were begging and simply wanted baksheesh from the foreigners,
but some asked why they had come. They rarely saw foreigners. Today Luxor is
a thriving tourist destination but in the early nineteenth century it was a small
village of less than a thousand inhabitants and rarely visited by Europeans.
Most visitors came to Egypt on business, conducted their transactions in
Alexandria, or on rare occasions went as far south as Cairo. There was no need
to go south to Luxor.
Some of Lebas’ crew scampered ahead to get a close-up view of the obelisk
while Lebas lingered to answer questions. Through his interpreter, Lebas
explained that they had come to take the obelisk back to France but the locals
would not believe him. They couldn't see the value in an obelisk, and where was
the ship large enough to transport it? Besides, everyone knew the obelisk was
fixed to the pedestal with a special cement that made it impossible to remove
without cutting it in pieces. When asked who was in charge of this supposed
project, the interpreter pointed to Lebas, which only added to their disbelief.
“Who? That one? My stick is taller than he is! He is not capable of moving even
the smallest stone in the temple.”’” The locals were convinced that the obelisk
was a pretext. The French were there to lean about the country and the people
and then would return to conquer. As this conversation was proceeding, Lebas
and his men made their way towards the temple and its obelisks.
The obelisk is cracked!
When they arrived, Lebas found his Italian stonemason, Mazaconi, gently
tapping the obelisk on the right with his hammer, intently listening to the
sound that resulted. As soon as he saw Lebas he called out in a mixture of
Italian and French, “The stone, she is cracked, but I do not believe broken. The
sound is good. We will be able to remove it, if it falls slowly, very slowly.’® The
Governor of Cairo had been right! It was cracked.
Lebas was stunned. He couldn't believe no one had spotted the crack, not
even the great Champollion. Despondent, he slowly made his way back to the
boat, never noticing his exotic surroundings, thinking only about the crack.
His fear was that the obelisk might fall apart during the lowering and he would
be blamed. The next day Lebas’ spirits were better. After all, the stonemason
said the obelisk was sound. Preparations could proceed.
The obelisk was covered with ten feet of debris and there were about thirty
mud brick huts the villagers lived in that would have to be demolished to clear a
path to the Nile for the obelisk. After lengthy negotiations, the huts were purchased
for about three times their true value and clearing proceeded full steam ahead.
Lebas began by removing the debris that covered the lower portion of the
obelisk and its pedestal. He hired 400 men, women, and children to remove the
of (SS ASE ere (

Figure 4.6 Apollinaire Lebas cleared the debris covering the pedestal and was the
first in modern times to see its decoration.
accumulation of centuries, the men breaking up the debris with pickaxes, the
women and children carrying the rubbish away in baskets on their heads.
Lebas had no trouble finding workers. He paid them a small salary, but this was
far better than what they were used to. When Mohamed Ali needed a workforce,
he simply conscripted them with no pay and treated them brutally.
Once the debris was removed, Lebas could see the pedestal on which the
obelisk rested, and discovered carvings of sacred baboons that greeted the sun
each morning. On two sides of the pedestal were images of bound foreign
captives, silent testament to the might of Ramses the Great, who erected the
obelisk.
The ship built for one passenger
With the base cleared, the next task was to grade a ramp from the obelisk to the
Nile where the Luxor would be run aground, facing the obelisk. On August 14
the Luxor, having safely navigated the sandbar near Cairo, arrived in Luxor.
Figure 4.7 The Luxor was run aground so the obelisk could be loaded onto it.
There was a happy reunion of the ship’s crew and Lebas’ advance party. They
were strangers in a strange land and felt a strong bond.
Captain Verninac ran the ship aground as planned so that its bow lined up
with the path the western obelisk would take. The crew immediately began
enlarging the living quarters Lebas had established inside the temple. They
built rooms out of local mud brick, and used the trunks of date palm trees split
in three for roof beams. They planned a garden, set up an infirmary, and built
furniture. There was a kitchen, complete with a bakery, and storerooms were
built to keep equipment secure. Everyone was in good spirits; this was the
adventure of their lives. They were bringing France her obelisk.
Lebas’ Egyptian workers carted away 450,000 cubic meters of rubbish, cut
through two villages, removed the thirty huts, and graded the quarter-mile
path to the Nile. Working fourteen-hour days, it took four months to complete
the slope, all the while battling intense summer heat.
On August 27 a ship arrived in Luxor and announced that cholera was
raging throughout Alexandria and Cairo. Two weeks later, a Turk recently
arrived in Luxor died of cholera. Soon it spread through Lebas’ workmen,
killing dozens of the Egyptians. Fifteen of the sailors were stricken with cholera
but survived due to good care by the ship’s doctor. Through it all, work on the
path to the ship continued.
Napoleon’ Obelisk ie
A mountain of timber
Lebas had brought from Toulon eight carpenters and two blacksmiths to
fashion the capstans, scaffolds, and metal fittings for the project. Nothing like
this had been done since Domenico Fontana moved the Vatican obelisk in
1586. Lebas had read Fontana’s description of how he did it and knew that
Fontana used capstans and horizontal winches, turned by both men and
horses, to lower the obelisk. Lebas also planned to use capstans but he had an
advantage. The Vatican obelisk had first been moved fifteen centuries earlier,
by the Romans who brought it from Egypt. When they re-erected it in the
Circus they used bronze pins and fittings at the obelisk’s corners to fix it to the
pedestal. The pins and fittings caused Fontana considerable difficulty when he
tried to lift the obelisk off its base. The obelisk Lebas was moving had been
placed on its base 3,000 years ago by ancient Egyptian stonemasons who didn't
use anything to attach the obelisk to its base. The 250-ton obelisk was simply
balancing on its end and so would be easier to lower.
Lebas constructed two systems for the project—one for lowering the obelisk
and one for restraining it. To lower the obelisk, a roller was going to be placed on
the pedestal at its western side. Ropes would be attached to the obelisk and when
the capstans were turned the obelisk would rotate around the roller, lift off the
pedestal and begin to point its tip downward. At the point where the descending
obelisk passed through the center of gravity of rotation, the restraining apparatus
would come into play to hold back the obelisk and keep it from crashing into the
dirt road they had constructed to receive it. The restraining apparatus made use
of the second Luxor obelisk standing just 100 feet away. By a system of ropes and
pulleys, Lebas could use that obelisk as an anchor to help lower his. He would
also use three capstans, each manned by sixty-four men to restrain the obelisk.
For the first few months, before building the lowering and restraining
systems, the ship’s carpenters trained local workers how to saw planks using
ripsaws with precision. First they practiced on the trunks of date palms, then,
when proficient, they sawed the oak planks needed for the sheer legs—the 100-
foot structures on which the pulleys and rigging were suspended. It was a huge
task, but everyone was happy to be working on something so important.
Before the obelisk could be lowered, it had to be clad in wood to protect the
beautiful hieroglyphs Champollion had so much admired. A scaffold was created
Figure 4.8 Lebas designed an elaborate system of pulleys and rigging to lower the
western Luxor obelisk.
and sailors accustomed to rigging were quite happy to climb to the top and attach
the French tricolor. They were exuberant and shouted down, “Now it belongs to
France. Soon Paris will have this monument.” Lebas knew that the most difficult
work was still ahead and it was all his responsibility. He responded to the men with
a quote from La Fontaine. “Never sell the bear skin without first killing the bear”
In September the cholera epidemic subsided and preparations to lower the
obelisk proceeded. The scaffolds, capstans, and riggings were built and erected.
Lebas drilled the men on how to turn the capstans, how to hold the ropes and
how to follow commands. He had made precise calculations of the forces on
the different parts of the system, calculating the friction on the ropes, the forces
on the sheer legs, and the strain on the cables as they went through the pulleys.
It all worked on paper, but in the back of Lebas’ mind there was still a lingering
worry about the obelisk’s crack. What if it fell apart while being lowered? Still,
the time had come to lower the obelisk; it was now or never.
Show time
At dawn on October 23 everyone was in place to lower the obelisk. Sailors

quickly scampered up the sheer legs and decorated them with palm fronds and
French flags. One hundred and ninety Egyptian workers waited by their capstans
for the order, and at Lebas’ command began slowly turning in unison. The ropes
went taut, straining under the force, and slowly the obelisk tilted towards the
river and began detaching from its ancient base. Then everything stopped.
The obelisk, inclined at 8 degrees, needed to rotate through 90 degrees to
be horizontal, but it would not budge; it was frozen. The officer in charge of the
capstans checked the system and discovered that the anchors stabilizing the
system had pulled out of the ground and were dragging across the sand, causing
tension on the restraining ropes that were now holding the obelisk back. More
rope was played out and once again the obelisk began its slow descent.
The obelisk has landed
When the obelisk reached the center of gravity of the pivot point the restraining
system was activated to slow its descent. At 25 degrees the motion was stopped
to check tension on all parts of the system. Everything was in order and the
obelisk continued its descent to the path. Fifteen minutes later, it was safely
resting on a platform built to receive it. With the obelisk down, Lebas, for the
first time, could see the top of the pedestal and made a wonderful discovery.
Pharaohs frequently chiseled out the names of previous owners on monuments
they wanted to claim as their own, and Ramses was one of the most enthusiastic
practitioners, so he knew it could happen to him. Before he erected his pair of
obelisks in front of Luxor Temple, he carved his name on the tops of the
pedestals so that when the obelisks rested on the pedestal they covered the
names and no one could get to them. It worked.
Building the platform that the obelisk was now resting on had not been easy.
Lebas knew that Egypt had no forests, so he had brought all the oak timbers to
build the lowering apparatus from France. His calculation of the amount of
wood needed was precise, with little left over, but the plan was that if they needed
a few pieces of lumber they could get that from Alexandria. Several times they
sent word to Alexandria that they needed more timber, but received no reply,
perhaps because the cholera epidemic had reduced communications between
cities. They would have to make do with what they had. Lebas had intended to
place the obelisk on a giant sled and haul it over the newly constructed pathway
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Figure 4.9 The base had cracked in ancient times and was repaired by two “butterfly
clamps.’ Ramses carved his cartouches on the pedestal before the obelisk was lowered
onto it so that no later pharaoh would be able to carve Ramses’ name off.
to the Nile, but there were no large timbers left to build the sled, only a few small
planks. An ingenious solution was needed and the carpenter had it.
The carpenter designed a wood platform composed of three detachable
sections that end to end were about seventy feet long. This was the platform
onto which the obelisk was lowered. A fourth section was now built out of the
scaffolding used to lower the obelisk, which was no longer needed now that the
obelisk was down. The fourth section was placed at the front and the obelisk
was then winched onto it. As the obelisk moved forward, the rear section could
be removed and moved to the front. Thus the obelisk crept towards the beached
ship in fits of about twenty-five feet at a time. Crafting the fourth section had
exhausted the supply of wood and the master carpenter explained to Lebas,“I
have nothing left, not even a piece of wood to make a tongue or bracket that we
will probably need during the operation. It is all as you feared, and if any of the
planks should break, it will be impossible for me to fix them.”
Lebas had succeeded in lowering the obelisk with spectacular success. The
entire process took less than an hour, the obelisk was still in perfect condition,
and no one had been injured. Now the obelisk had to be hauled on its fragile
platform to the beached Luxor and loaded onboard.
In the broiling summer sun, workers using four capstans hauled the obelisk
down the path that Lebas had so carefully prepared. Once they saw that the
platform was holding, it was just a matter of patience. Each time the obelisk
moved twenty-five feet, the rear section of the platform was removed, moved
to the front, earth packed solidly under it, capstans repositioned, and then the
process repeated. By December 19 the obelisk was exactly in front of the Luxor.
PR mm
Figure 4.10 A village had to be torn down to build a road from Luxor Temple to
the ship.
The original plan was to cut a hole in the hull large enough to admit the
obelisk and winch it in, but this was no longer possible because of the lack of
wood. To close the hole would have taken considerably more lumber than they
had. The solution was to saw off the entire bow of the ship and, once the obelisk
was in, reattach it, which would require less lumber. By now everyone was very
experienced with the capstans and their rigging. Once the hull was sectioned
and preparations made, within two hours the obelisk was safely inside the
Luxor. Then came the big wait.
Nubian adventure
The Nile rises and falls once a year and, with the obelisk safely on board, Lebas
needed a high Nile to sail for Alexandria, but he had missed it. Not wanting to
risk getting snagged on a sandbar, Captain Verninac decided to wait for the
Nile to rise in July before sailing for Alexandria. Afraid that the blistering sun
would dry the Luxor’s wood hull while they waited six months for the Nile to
rise, the captain buried the ship in earth and covered the huge mound with
reed mats. Each day the vessel, looking more like a hill than a ship, was watered
like a plant, to keep it cool.
Figure 4.11 While waiting to sail, the Luxor was covered in sand and reed mats to
prevent the blistering Egyptian sun from cracking the ship’s wood hull and masts.
After months of tension, there was now a sense of relief. The difficult part
was done and the obelisk was safely inside the Luxor. With nothing to do but
wait for the Nile to rise, Lebas, Lieutenant Joannis, and some other members of
the crew decided to go south to see the monuments of Upper Egypt and Nubia.
As mentioned before, very few Europeans went as far south as Luxor; to go
even farther south was an adventure. Both Lebas and Joannis have left their
memoirs of the trip. They went as far south as Abu Simbel and were awed by its
size and silent beauty. They spent three days exploring the mysterious temple.
Lebas, ever the engineer, measured the four colossal statues of Ramses and
almost everything else. Napoleon’s savants never went south to Abu Simbel so
Lebas’ professional measurements were a real contribution to Egyptology. On
the way back to Luxor they stopped at some of the smaller Nubian temples,
including Dandur, which is now in New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art,
just a few hundred yards from New York’s obelisk.
The temples definitely impressed both Lebas and Joannis but it seems as if
something other than the monuments made the deepest impression on the
two travelers. Lebas describes one of the itinerant dancers knows as the almees
and in particular one dance. His description is worth quoting.
I will limit myself to recalling a few characteristics of the one they call the
Dance of the Bee. The aimée appears dressed in pantaloons with a skirt on
top, a sash, and a belt. Her head is covered by a large veil that falls to the top
of her legs. The music starts, and the artist begins to dance and sing while
clapping her cymbals. This is a kind of entrance and has nothing to do with
the main scene. The first real movements are languid. The face of the aimée
is motionless. She walks rather than dances. This preamble lasts about a
quarter of an hour. After a while, she pretends to hear the buzzing of an
insect flying in the room. She lends it an ear, looks, pretends to chase it,
continues her steps, and then declares with a painful scream that she is being
stung by a bee. Then the two instrument players and her companions come
near, screaming at the top of their lungs, AK-AKO! (There it is, there it is!)
The movements become much more frenetic. The aimée redoubles her
complaints, brings her hands to her body, first on one side, then the other,
turns and spins in all directions. Her face becomes animated, her black eyes
flash and roll. She is suffering from the most violent pains. She squats and
her body, enveloped by her veil, rolls on the ground, sometimes pursuing the
cruel animal that stings her, sometimes trying to escape from it. Her
reiterated exclamations and her most vivid complaints intertwine with cries,
AK-AKO, of the assistants who clap their hands in cadence. The beat of the
music accelerates more and more. The Basque drums and the piercing sound
of the castanets accompany the jerky movements of the aimée. Exhausted
with fatigue, her voice faint, one only hears the piercing screams of her
companions: AK-AKO embeillaho: Here it is, here’s the bee! The torture she
endures is unbearable. Finally she loses all restraint; she throws off her veil;
her hair falls in disorder on her shoulder, but the cruel animal persists. It
continues to pierce her with its stinger. It takes refuge under the belt and she
flings it off violently. It goes under her sash, under her dress. With the same
movements, the same intensity, everything is thrown off. Finally it goes
under her pantaloons, the last refuge of modesty. The aimée brings her hand
to it and, torn between the two feelings, she abandons the last piece of
clothing and faints to the floor. A veil, thrown by the matron with precision
and agility, instantly covers the nudity of the dancer."
Lebas has seen an Egyptian striptease and will never forget it. Lieutenant
Joannis also felt compelled to record his impressions of the Dance of the Bee.
His description is basically the same as that of Lebas. Joannis, however, goes
one step farther and becomes the dance critic, comparing the Dance of the Bee
to ballet, and ballet comes off the loser!
This dance is really admirable when it is well executed. It is, however, very
difficult, because it is necessary to play a pantomime feigning a violent
passion, and it is necessary to dance and to sing at the same time, and all of
that can’t be done without a certain genius.
I recalled, on seeing this original and interesting fiction, our bland ballets,
where several pretentious women depress us with leg rounds and jumps
while fifty or so automatons are behind looking on."!
When the expedition to Nubia returned to Luxor, they removed the earth and
mats that covered the Luxor and found it in good condition. Towards the end of
June the Nile began to rise. Each day they eagerly checked the water level, waiting
for the day they could sail. By August 6 the boat just needed another foot of water
to float off the bank, but the Nile started to fall and continued to do so for a week.
Despondent, they asked the oldest sheikh at the mosque if he had seen anything
like this before. If the Nile didn’t rise, it would mean famine for Egypt and they
would be stranded for another year. The sheikh replied in very serious tones.
Child, don’t be worried. Mohamed is good and great, and the lands are not
yet flooded. The Nile is like a spirited horse at the start of a long race,
breathing to take in wind. In a little while it will be headed up with new
vigor. While you are waiting, make an offering of two sheep to the mosque.”
Departure at last
On August 12 the Nile began to rise again and on the 25th the Luxor began its
journey north to Alexandria and the open sea. This time they were navigating
the Nile with the current, and often the problem was how to steer the Luxor as
it sped north with the obelisk in its hold. But because the prevailing winds are
out of the north, they could also raise sails and use them against the wind as a
brake to slow the Luxor.
On October 1 the happy crew arrived at Rosetta, near Alexandria, but there
was a problem. The ship was unable to navigate the sandbar and waited for
several months for water conditions to change. In late December they heard
that a ship loaded with oranges had successfully passed the sandbar and
Captain Verninac decided to try. It took three days to rig the Luxor for the
attempt, but on January 1, 1833 at 11:00 p.m., after scraping the bottom several
times, the Luxor successfully crossed the sandbar.
Once the Luxor had crossed the sandbar, it was met by the Sphinx, a steamship
sent to tow the Luxor to Alexandria and then across the Mediterranean. Because
the Luxor had been built for a very specific purpose, to navigate rivers with an
obelisk in its hold, compromises in its seaworthiness had been made. It had safely
sailed across the Mediterranean to Egypt, but then the hold had been empty. As
Lieutenant Joannis put it, “To speak more of how Luxor comported itself at sea I
would be obliged to enter into detailed discussions of little interest to the reader,
but I can assure you without contradiction that the lowliest three-masted bark
imaginable could be more easily navigated and be more seaworthy.’ With an
obelisk in its hold, the Luxor would have to be towed to France.
On New Year’s Day, 1833 the Luxor, towed by the Sphinx, reached Alexandria
Harbor having successfully traveled the 500 miles down the Nile. Now high
seas and winter winds worried Captain Verninac and he decided to wait
another three months before venturing out of Alexandria's safe harbor. On
April 1, with the Sphinx towing the Luxor, the obelisk began its international
journey.
The obelisk at sea
The first few days were uneventful but then they hit strong headwinds and
heavy seas. Afraid that the Sphinx might run out of coal at sea from fighting the
headwinds, they headed for Rhodes, five days away. After a few days at Rhodes
they sailed on, finally reaching Toulon on May 10 at two oclock in the morning.
The obelisk was finally in French territory, but not yet on French soil. The crew
was quarantined for twenty days and then Lebas disembarked for Paris to
make arrangements for erecting the obelisk. Captain Verninac and the crew
made repairs to the Sphinx and after 42 days in Toulon, the obelisk continued
towards Paris via Gibraltar. At Cherbourg Captain Verninac received orders to
dock. The royal family was going to pay the obelisk a visit! The Sphinx and
Luxor were scrubbed in anticipation of the royal visit, which was a great success
with Verninac being promoted to Captain of Corvettes.
After the visit, the Sphinx, which drew too much water to navigate the Seine,
was replaced by the Heva, a much smaller steamship. At Rouen, progress
Figure 4.12 The Luxor was towed by the steamer Sphinx through some high seas on
its way to France.
Napoleons Obelisk 12]
stopped as the river was too low to navigate and, during the three-month wait
for it to rise, the Luxor was dismasted so it could pass under the Seine’s bridges.
When the water was sufficiently high, the Luxor and its three-thousand-year-
old cargo continued on, this time pulled by sixteen horses along the banks. On
December 23, 1833 the obelisk reached Paris.
It would be two years before Lebas would attempt to set the obelisk on its
pedestal. There were many things to be done and many delays to be overcome.
First a dry dock for the Luxor had to be prepared so the obelisk could be off-
loaded. This could only be done during the season of low water, so that was one
setback. Then there was a carpenters’ strike, so the obelisk couldn't be unloaded
till August of 1834, when the water was low again. This was done with the help
of five capstans, each with sixteen bars turned by forty-eight men. Once again,
Lebas did all the calculations and figured that the force generated would be
almost twice what was needed to move the obelisk. He wanted a cushion to
overcome any unforeseen accidents, frictions, or snags. On August 9, 240
artillerymen began turning the capstans and the obelisk moved out of the Luxor,
onto a cradle prepared for it, and came to rest on the banks of the Seine. It had
at last reached French soil, but would remain at that spot for more than a year.
The pedestal had not yet been prepared and there were lively debates about
its design and what kind of stone to use. When that was settled, the hull of the
Luxor was closed and the Sphinx towed it to a quarry in Normandy where five
huge granite blocks that would form the pedestal were loaded into the Luxor.
When they returned to the banks of the Seine, once again they had to wait for
low water before they could off-load the blocks of granite and drag them to the
Place de la Concorde. Once in place, the blocks were assembled and decorated
with gilded carvings showing the apparatus Lebas used to lower the obelisk.
Now, at last, the obelisk could be moved towards its final resting place.
Raising an obelisk
On April 16 the obelisk began its final four-month journey towards the Place
de la Concorde. Now Labas prepared to raise the obelisk onto its pedestal. A
stone ramp was built from the ground to the top of the pedestal. The plan was
to haul the obelisk up the incline so the foot of the obelisk was level with the
D2) Cleopatra’s Needles
top of the pedestal, then rotate the obelisk 90 degrees to set it upright on the
pedestal. It would, of course, require much more force to pull the obelisk up an
incline than to pull it on level ground, but Lebas had a spectacular plan. He
would dispense with the capstans and artillerymen, and would use a new
invention that he believed would change the world—the steam engine! There
had been considerable resistance to the steam engine, probably because people
feared it and just didn't understand it. It had already been successfully used for
ships, but on land was another matter. Lebas would promote the use of the new
invention and thus help mankind. He said:
No occasion could be more perfect to brilliantly and solemnly open the eyes
of the entire people assembled to the power of this marvelous agent. It would
be an incredible spectacle to see a mass of 500,000 pounds rise majestically
into space without the help of an animal force and raise itself on its base with
the help of the most powerful invention of modern times, perhaps the only
one to which the ancients could not claim priority.”*
But it was not to be. When the steam engine was tested with the obelisk in
tow, one of the boilers failed and it was abandoned. Lebas was disappointed, and
he was not the only one. Michel Chevalier, a writer for the Journal des Débats,
gives a wonderful window into how the steam engine was viewed in 1836.
For some part of the public, the steam engine is an unknown—some sort of
mysterious and formidable creation, subject to exploding like thunder. It
would have been good to associate ancient monuments and arts with one of
the most beautiful products of the inventive spirit of the modern day. It
would have been wonderful to show two hundred thousand people one of
these machines, so often thought as vulgar, seizing without embarrassment
the obelisk of Sesostris and calmly, little by little, with perfect regularity—its
firebox, the soul of the machine, fed only by coal—raise it without the help
of any living being apart from its driver. These machines are destined to
liberate human kind from all work that can be done only by brutal force....
The steam engine is one of mankind’s best conquests over nature, at once
both serving nature and helping man. It is its destiny to be enslaved, and to
be the only slave, the only serf, of the future."
So the obelisk would have to be moved up the ramp and erected by

manpower. It took three days for the capstans to be assembled and positioned
but then the obelisk, in its cradle, propelled by 120 men and four capstans
began slowly moving up the ramp towards the pedestal. In order for the obelisk
to come to rest in its proper position on the pedestal, it was crucial that the foot
of the obelisk arrive at a precise spot where the ramp met the top of the
pedestal. After five hours of capstans turning, the obelisk was at its destination,
only two centimeters from its desired position.
For the next two weeks the apparatus for raising the obelisk along with all
the rigging and pulleys were set up. The procedure for raising the obelisk
would be essentially the reverse of lowering it, with the base of the obelisk
pivoting around a roller fixed to the pedestal. On October 24, the day before
the scheduled raising, the system was tested and everything worked perfectly—
so perfectly that Lebas wanted to continue and set the obelisk on its pedestal!
But orders “from above’ said “no. Lebas would have to wait until tomorrow.
Figure 4.13 A special medal with the portrait of Louis Philippe was struck to
commemorate the erection of the French obelisk.
Early the next morning crowds began to fill the Place de la Concorde and by
11:30 more than 200,000 were crowded together to see their obelisk set on its
pedestal. The day was cloudy and cold, but with no rain in sight, which was
important as rain would affect the ropes and make things slippery. Before
beginning the great maneuver, a small cedar box containing French gold and
silver coins of 1836 was placed inside a compartment in the pedestal. In
addition to the coins there was a commemorative medal bearing the king's
portrait on one side and on the other the inscription “Under the reign of Louis-
Philippe I, King of the French, M. de Gasparin, Minister of the Interior, the
obelisk of Luxor was raised on its pedestal on the 25th of October, 1836 by the
care of M. Apollinaire Lebas, Marine Engineer.” Lebas’ place in history was
established. Now he just had to raise the obelisk.
At 11:30 a.m. Lebas gave the signal, a trumpet blared, and the forty-eight
soldiers assigned to each of ten capstans began turning. Ropes from the
capstans ran over ten tall masts, five in front of the obelisk and five in back,
which continued downward from the masts to chains fixed near the top of the
prostrate obelisk. As the obelisk moved slowly towards an upright position the
pressure on the wood block around which the 250-ton monolith was pivoting
was so great that sap from the fresh timbers squirted out. The obelisk continued
its upward journey when suddenly, with no warning, a loud cracking noise
sounded through the cold winter air.
Everything stopped so Lebas could check the apparatus. Lepage, Inspector
of Works, shouted, “Nothing has moved. You can continue.” The immense
» PARIS, OCTOBER 25, 1836
Figure 4.14 On October 25, 1836, 200,000 people watched the obelisk being erected
in the Place de La Concorde.
compression of the wood had caused the sound. The turning of the capstans
continued and as the obelisk rose, Lebas realized that they had forgotten to
adjust the ropes attached to the chains near the top of the obelisk. He had
planned to do this as the tension on the ropes changed and the obelisk went
upward, but in the excitement of the cracking sound, it was forgotten. Now two
marines were called upon to climb up the obelisk and readjust the rigging. This
done, the raising continued, but there was a new problem.
Stationed at the base of the obelisk, Lebas discovered that when the
carpenters had translated measurements from feet and inches into the new
metric system, they had made a mistake. The wooden pivot on which the
obelisk was turning was too high for the obelisk to continue its movement.
Two hundred thousand amazed spectators looked on as ten strong men with
axes in hand hacked a path through the wood so the obelisk could be raised—
all this while a band played the “Isis Suite” from Mozart's Magic Flute.
Finally, with the king and queen looking on from their decorated balcony at
the Ministry of the Marine, the obelisk was erected on its pedestal where it still
stands today. The entire operation took three-and-a-half hours, no one was
injured, and the obelisk was undamaged. It was a spectacular success. From his
royal balcony Louis Philippe applauded and all 200,000 spectators joined him.
Lebas was a hero.
While the French basked in their obelisk’s glory, the English still didn’t have
an obelisk, and it bothered them. After all, they had defeated the French in
Egypt; they should be the ones with an obelisk. As recently as 1831 an obelisk
had been offered to them, but still they seemed frozen, unable to act. It would
be nearly fifty years before they would get their obelisk and it would take
another major event to set things in motion: the cutting of the Suez Canal.
Cleopatra’s Needle Sails for London
With the invention of steamships in the 1830s, sea trade increased and the utility
of a Suez Canal became obvious to everyone, except the British. They were using
the overland railway route to the Red Sea pioneered by Thomas Waghorn and
were not interested in a canal, but former French vice-consul to Egypt, Ferdinand
de Lesseps, saw the advantage and pushed hard for France to build it.
The big dig
De Lesseps had been a close childhood friend of Mohamed Said Pasha, one of
Mohamed Ali’s sons, and when he heard that his old friend had been made
Viceroy of Egypt he went to Cairo to re-establish their friendship and discuss
the canal. Said was enthusiastic; it would be the jewel in his reign and establish
him as a world leader. In November of 1854 an agreement was signed. The
Suez Canal Company would be funded by foreign shareholders. Egypt would
supply the land and labor and receive 15 percent of the annual profits. Even
with the Viceroy on his side, de Lesseps had a difficult time getting the canal
going. England did everything she could to sabotage the project, telling the
Sultan in Constantinople that it was a plot for Egypt to gain independence
from Turkey, and telling the Viceroy that he would have French colonies
springing up along the canal. The English efforts failed and finally, with the
support of Emperor Napoleon III, the project began to move forward. In 1857,
with the Viceroy supplying 20,000 conscripted workers, digging began.
England continued to try to sabotage the canal, starting a campaign against
the “slave labor” used in its construction. De Lesseps correctly pointed out that
he paid the laborers and treated them well. The canal continued, but Viceroy
Cleopatra’ Needle Sails
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Said never saw its completion. He died in 1863 and was succeeded by his
nephew, Ismail Pasha. The new Viceroy was even more enthusiastic about the
canal, seeing it as a way to increase his power in the world, but ambition
eventually cost him his throne.
As the work continued, England put so much pressure on the Sultan to stop
the canal that the Sublime Porte told Ismail that he could no longer use
conscripted labor and also that he had no right to give Egyptian land to the
Suez Canal Company. Under pressure, he stopped supplying labor but an
arbitration committee forced him to pay for the labor he was contractually
obligated to supply. It was a staggering fee that he could ill afford. In addition,
in an attempt to appease the Porte, he bought back all the land given to the
Suez Canal Company by Said. To do this he mortgaged the cotton crop for the
coming year, a risky proposition.
De Lesseps replaced the loss of manpower by importing huge steam-
powered dredging machines and after 1867 most of the canal was dug by these
monsters. By 1869, as the canal neared completion, Britain finally realized she
could not stop the canal and was now eager to participate in its progress rather
than be shut out by France. De Lesseps accompanied the Prince of Wales on a
tour of the canal and the Prince confided that he was sorry his government
had fought construction of the canal and wished they had an interest in it.
Soon he would get his wish. Although Ismail had now been given the loftier
title of Khedive and was a major stockholder in the Suez Canal Company, he
was about to lose everything he had.
The grand opening of the Canal was Egypt's coming out party and the
Khedive planned spectacular celebrations. He built a palace for the Empress
Eugénie of France so she would be comfortable during her visit. Later, when
she returned to France, Ismail commemorated her visit with murals painted on
the palace walls showing Eugénie at the opening and taking a carriage ride
through the desert at Ismailia. The palace is now the Cairo Marriott Hotel and
still retains much of its old grandeur. In the lobby are murals commemorating
the opening of the canal, complete with the Khedive and Empress Eugénie at a
banquet and later on a dais at the opening ceremony. The opening was a great
social success followed by an economic disaster. The Nile had failed to rise high
enough to inundate the fields and the cotton crop failed. Khedive Ismail could
not pay Egypt’s debts and was forced to sell his shares in the canal to England.
It is a little known fact, but without the Khedive’s bankruptcy America

would not have the Statue of Liberty. The Khedive had commissioned the
sculptor Bartholdi to create a colossal statue for the entrance to the canal that
would dwarf ships as they entered. Unlike the Colossus of Rhodes, Bartholdi’s
creation was an Egyptian woman holding a torch aloft representing “Egypt
Enlightening Asia.’ It was never completed. The Khedive and Egypt were
bankrupt; the massive statue was more than the Egyptian economy could
afford. The resilient Bartholdi sold the idea of the colossal statue to France;
with some minor alterations the French people could give it to America as a
gift, renaming it “The Statue of Liberty.’ Millions of Americans have visited the
statue but few know it was originally intended for Egypt.
For most of the twentieth century it was France that had close relationships
with Egypt. Her savants published the Description de 'Egypte; Lebas brought
their obelisk to Paris; and de Lessseps dug the Suez Canal. England had
opposed the canal and didn't have a strong bond with Egypt, but once they
became a primary partner in the Suez Canal, that all changed. Egypt became a
hot topic and, finally, the Brits decided to pick up their obelisk.
The Englishman and the obelisk
In the summer of 1872 a 28-year-old engineer named Waynman Dixon was

dispatched to Cairo by his older brother, John, to build a bridge across the Nile
at Giza. In October of 1872 John visited Waynman and the brothers went to see
the two Alexandrian obelisks. They knew that one had been offered to England
years before but nothing had been done to move it. Immediately they began
discussing how to transport the fallen obelisk to England. They asked the locals
about the depth of the sea in front of the obelisk and on the spot Waynman
came up with a plan that would ultimately bring England’s obelisk home: Encase
the fallen obelisk in an iron cylinder, roll it into the sea, and tow it to England.
John was so excited at the prospect of finally bringing the obelisk home
that he wrote to several newspapers, describing the plan, offering to subscribe
500 pounds sterling towards the cost and inviting all patriotic Englishmen to
join him. He quickly wrote to Waynman, telling him to clear more sand from
the fallen obelisk to determine its condition. If the fallen obelisk was found to
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be in good condition, they would take that one and not have to worry about
lowering an obelisk from its pedestal.
In the past, support for the project had been repeatedly held back by a rumor
that the obelisk was in poor condition with most of the hieroglyphic inscription
worn away. Much of this was due to Sir Gardner Wilkinson, one of the founders
of modern Egyptology. Wilkinson lived in Luxor in the 1830s and had carried
out a pioneering study of tombs in the area and is responsible for the current
system numbering of tombs in the Valley of the Kings. He simply took a pot of
black paint and walked through the Valley painting numbers on the outsides
of the tombs! Wilkinson had watched the French lower their obelisk from the
front of Luxor Temple and this may have been the source of the widespread
belief that the fallen obelisk in Alexandria was in poor condition. The Luxor
obelisk is nearly perfect, with all its carved hieroglyphs crisp and clear. The
Alexandria obelisks, while in good condition, are not so well preserved. This may
have led to Wilkinson’s comment after the English government refused to pay
for transporting the obelisk to England: “from its mutilated state, and the
obliteration of many of the hieroglyphics by exposure to the sea air, it is unworthy
(of) the expense of removal.’ If England’s most prominent Egyptologist said it
was not worth the expense, who was going to contribute to the project?
A Freemason to the rescue
Waynman quickly hired workmen who uncovered three sides of the obelisk
and even dug out the middle section of the underside. It was in quite good
condition and Waynman photographed it so John could show potential donors
that the obelisk was worthy of England. Armed with the new photographs,
John once again began knocking on doors, but his idea of a national subscription
to pay for transporting it never took hold. Fortunately, Sir Erasmus Wilson,
a famous surgeon and generous supporter of medical charities, became
interested in the project.
In November of 1876 Wilson, curious to hear the plan for transporting the
obelisk, visited John Dixon in his London office. Wilson had never met the
elder Dixon, but knew his reputation as a reliable and resourceful engineer
who had recently built the first railway in China. Wilson entered Dixon's office
Figure 5.1 When the Dixon brothers uncovered the fallen obelisk they discovered its
hieroglyphs werent quite so obliterated as Gardner Wilkinson had said. The obelisk
was definitely worth bringing home.
with optimism for the project, but what seems to have clinched the deal was
that they were both Freemasons. As Wilson put it, “I soon found that Mr. Dixon
was a Freemason, hence all formality and ceremony were at once banished.”*
All ceremony may have been banished, but there was still a contract to work
out. John estimated that he could bring the obelisk to England for 7,000 pounds
sterling; Wilson wanted to think it over. At their second meeting Wilson
presented John with an offer that was both generous and dangerous. “The
undertaking is not an easy one; you say you can do it for 7,000 pounds; will you
undertake to set it up safely on the banks of the Thames for 10,000 pounds; no
cure no pay?”’ The “no cure no pay” meant that John would have to fund the
project himself and if he failed the loss would be his. He would only receive the
10,000 pounds when the obelisk was standing upright on a site to be decided.
He would have two years to complete the project. It was a tremendous risk. He
was a very successful engineer, but 7,000 pounds—the amount he estimated it
would take to bring the obelisk home safely—was more than he could afford-to
lose. Without a second of hesitation he accepted his fellow Freemason’s offer.
The Dixon brothers would bring Britannia her obelisk.
Cleopatra’s Needle Sails for London 131
Building Cleopatra
John’s first step was to take his brother’s plans for the cylinder to the Thames
Iron Works. He entrusted the job of constructing the cylinder to a brilliant
young engineer named Benjamin Baker who twenty years later would be
elected President of the Institution of Civil Engineers. Waynman was in
Somalia erecting a prefabricated cast iron lighthouse and his drawings of the
cylinder were not finished blueprints, so Baker had to make many important
decisions in designing the cylinder. Baker studied previous attempts to move
obelisks, including the Romans’ and Fontana’s repositioning of the Vatican
obelisk. The only obelisk that had been moved in modern times that he could
study was the one in Paris, and he wasn't impressed.
Looking at M. Lebas’ design now, it appears almost incredible that it should

not have occurred to him that a few traversing jacks, costing say 50 pounds,
would have done his work more quickly and efficiently than the formidable
inclined causeways and capstans, costing many thousands of pounds.*
Baker also noted that it had taken the French seven years to finally erect their
obelisk. In contrast to the leisurely French timetable, five months after signing
the contract all the parts of the sixty-ton cylinder had been shipped to
Alexandria for assembly. The cylinder, with its own crew on board, was going
to be towed to England bya steamer. When the parts were shipped to Alexandria,
Captain Henry Carter, an experienced and highly respected seaman from the
P & O Company, would accompany them. He was going to supervise the small
crew that would live inside the Cleopatra.
It was now time to assemble the cylinder around the obelisk. The obelisk
would pass through six internal bulkheads that formed individual watertight
compartments so that if one sprung a leak, the others would not fill with water.
With Captain Carter working closely alongside Dixon, the bulkheads were
placed around the obelisk and then iron plates forming the cylinder’s skin were
riveted in place. For stability at sea, the obelisk was stowed four inches below
the center of the cylinder, but this asymmetry would make rolling the cylinder
more difficult. Consequently, twelve tons of iron rails were temporarily added
to a groove in the top of the cylinder where a steering cabin was to be added
later. To protect the cylinder as it rolled down to the sea, two large wood bands,
ee Se ee eo : ge
Figure 5.2 The cylinder designed to hold the obelisk had six interior bulkheads that
formed watertight compartments. If one sprung a leak, the others would not fill with
water.
twelve feet long and six inches wide, were attached around the cylinder’s
circumference. Work went smoothly, but had to be halted in early July when
heavy gales pounded the coast of Alexandria. Once the gales subsided work
continued. The cylinder’s path down to the water was blocked by large stones
from ancient temples that had to be removed by Arab workmen, who also
shifted tons of sand to create a clear incline down to the sea. Finally, the old
seawall was taken down, removing the cylinder’s last obstacle on shore.
Down to the sea
Divers sent down to clear the seabed to receive the cylinder found the remains
of a huge wall with blocks weighing up to twenty tons. Using dynamite they
blew up the wall in order to remove its shattered stones. For all we know, they
dynamited the remains of Cleopatra's palace!
Launch day was August 28 and John Dixon, his wife Mary, and Benjamin
Baker had sailed to Alexandria for the occasion. Thick steel cables were
wrapped around the cylinder with the two free ends played out to two small
steamboats off shore. The cable ends were attached to onboard winches and
when the signal was given, the winches turned, slowly pulling the 300-ton
cylinder down to the sea. Progress was painfully slow, and by noon the cylinder
had moved only one revolution—about fifty feet. The problem was that the two
ships could not find secure anchorage on the coast’s rocky seabed, so it was
decided not to use winches. Rather, the anchors were pulled up, the cables were
Cleopatra’ Needle Sails for London 133
attached to the sterns of the ships, and then the tugs slowly steamed seaward,
pulling the cylinder down the prepared slope to the Mediterranean.
By 5:30 p.m. the cylinder with the obelisk inside was nearing the water’s
edge. Now screw jacks pushed from one side as tugs pulled on the other, and
just before 7:00 p.m. the cylinder made its final turn and came to rest in three
feet of water. At last, the obelisk was in the water. The next day they would tow
it nine miles to Alexandria's deep harbor.
At dawn the operation began again. The two tugs, with their cables attached to
the cylinder, headed out to sea, but the cylinder barely moved. As the August sun
rose high in the sky, the tugs tried and tried, but by noon the cylinder, now in
seven feet of water, had moved only one revolution and would not budge any
further. Slackening the cables, the tugs went full steam ahead and tried to jerk the
iron tube free but it still wouldn't move. At sunset the dejected engineers pondered
the situation. Benjamin Baker calculated that the cylinder needed nine feet of
water in order to float. Though the depth was very close to that, it just wasn't
moving. All agreed that at first light they would carefully inspect the cylinder.
Early the next morning, Waynman Dixon was rowed out to inspect the
cylinder. He opened the hatch and discovered that the tube was half full of
water! Was it leaking? The first thing was to pump the water out so he could go
in and see what the problem was. Sixteen men were required to work the huge
Ponies || V oearaaes ee
owl eR dao! ao dé ne
ber
§ Kip
Figure 5.3 The completed cylinder with the obelisk inside, ready to be rolled down
to the sea.
hand pump, but as hard as they pumped, the cylinder would not empty. Water
was coming in as fast as they pumped it out. A second team relieved them, and
then a third, all with no success. Obviously, somewhere there was a large hole
through which water was rushing in.
A diver was sent down and found that an ancient building stone weighing
several tons had pierced the cylinder, creating an eighteen-inch gash, and was now
firmly lodged in the hull. But why had the entire cylinder filled with water? The
bulkheads were designed to be watertight, so if one compartment was breached
the others would hold, allowing the cylinder to float. The answer was simple: no
one had closed the bulkhead doors! With three engineers (the two Dixons and
Benjamin Baker) and an experienced Captain (Henry Carter) supervising the
operation, not one of them had thought to check that the doors had been closed!
Now they had a difficult repair. The cylinder had to be turned so the gash was out
of the water and could be repaired, but it was not going to be easy moving a
cylinder half full with water. John Dixon came up with an ingenious plan.
First the stone was cut out of the hull. He then had workmen build a huge
nine-foot-square wood box that was open at the top. This crib was sunk next
to the cylinder on its seaward side. The box was then filled with scrap iron and
rocks, fixing it firmly to the seabed. A powerful jack was wedged between the
box and the cylinder and expanded, rotating the cylinder towards the coast till
the hole was above water. On September 5 the hole finally saw the light of day
and all the water was pumped out. The torn iron plate was replaced and the
cylinder, now named Cleopatra, was once again seaworthy. It is not recorded,
but undoubtedly the bulkhead doors were closed.
Out to sea
On September 7 the tugs once again began towing the Cleopatra out to sea.
This time it was easier, and slowly but surely the cylinder approached the
critical nine-foot depth where it would float. Just before noon the Cleopatra’s
movements changed dramatically; it was rising and falling with the swells in
the harbor—she was afloat. Adjustments were quickly made for normal towing.
The cables were released from the winches and a single cable was attached
from the bow of the Cleopatra to the stern of the tug Champion. The second
tug was brought alongside the Cleopatra to assist at turns. The next day the
cylinder was towed to Alexandria’s dry dock but the seas were particularly
rough. The tugs bobbed up and down violently, but the cylinder took the waves
far more easily, barely rising or falling, a reassuring sight for the Cleopatra’s
captain and the three engineers.
Once in dry dock the cylinder received its final fittings and preparations for
its first and only voyage on open seas. The twelve tons of counter ballast that
had been placed on top to roll the cylinder to the sea were removed and
transferred to the bottom of the vessel as ballast. Then a steering deck with an
iron catwalk around it was riveted in place. Beneath the cylinder, two forty-
foot-long keels were riveted in position to make sure the Cleopatra didnt roll
in high seas. A mast was fitted, to be used in an emergency, and a third keel was
attached to the stern. The final preparations were done in ten days with Captain
Carter and Waynman Dixon overseeing every step. On September 19, the
daughter of Admiral McKillop Pasha, the English officer in charge of the
harbor, broke a bottle of champagne over the iron cylinder; the Cleopatra was
formally christened. Mr. and Mrs. John Dixon hosted a luncheon for 150
dignitaries, officers, and prominent expats from the Alexandria community.
They had worked very hard to get to this point, but their work was not yet over.
Waynman had designed the Cleopatra so the obelisk could lie below the
geometric center of the cylinder, the low center of gravity giving it more
stability on open seas. Now, while in dry dock, an additional twenty tons
of scrap iron railings were laid in the bottom of the Cleopatra, lowering the
center of gravity even more. With this ballast, two-thirds of the Cleopatra
would be submerged during the voyage. The ballast was held in place by wood
flooring laid over it.
Captain Carter hired seven men for his crew: his second in command, the
boatswain; five Maltese seamen; and a carpenter to make any necessary repairs
at sea. Carter had to pay a bit above the going wages for such a crew; many
seamen were hesitant about signing onto such an unusual vessel for four weeks
on the open seas. It would, indeed, be a voyage they would never forget.
A British steamer, the Olga, was about to sail from Alexandria with a load of
grain destined for England. Captain Carter thought the Olga suitable for
towing the Cleopatra. Powered by a 130-horsepower steam engine, she was 251
feet long, only seven years old, and commanded by an able captain. Carter
struck a deal with Captain Booth, who agreed to tow the Cleopatra to Falmouth
for 900 pounds sterling, half to be paid in advance, half upon arrival. Everything
was in place for the great adventure.
The Cleopatra’s odyssey began on September 21 when Captain Booth,
commanding the Olga, slowly towed the cylinder and obelisk out of Alexandria
Harbor and into the open Mediterranean. On the deck of the Olga was
Waynman Dixon, who intended to accompany his cylinder all the way to
England and would be available to oversee repairs if needed. Onboard the
Cleopatra were Captain Carter and his crew. Several systems had been worked
out so the two captains could communicate throughout the voyage. During
calm seas a megaphone could be used, but for rough weather Captain Carter
would stand on the steering bridge and use a blackboard to communicate his
needs. At night, a system of lights was employed.
Figure 5.4 Captain Carter on the Cleopatra communicated with the tow-ship Olga
via a blackboard.
Cleopatras Needle Sails
forLondon 137
The Cleopatra’s early behavior greatly reassured everyone. She sailed calmly
through the waves with her steering house splitting those waves that washed
over the low-in-the-water cylinder. The biggest problem was Carter’s second in
command, the boatswain, who became ill the second day at sea, forcing Carter
to stand watch all night, every night, and catch snatches of sleep during the day
when possible; but Carter had plenty to do during the day too.
Every six hours he checked the bulkhead compartments to make sure there
were no leaks. First he would open a small hatch in the floor of his cabin and,
carrying a candle, would slip down into the darkness. He would check the first
compartment, open a tiny door to the second and, holding the candle in his teeth,
would squeeze through and inspect that bulkhead. This was repeated for each of
the seven bulkheads and then he made his way back to the first compartment
and the hatch to his cabin. Once, while freeing both hands so he could push
himself through one of the doors, he held the candle in his teeth and it began to
burn his nose! The candle fell, went out, and Carter was stranded in the dark with
a singed nose. It took more than half an hour to feel his way back to daylight, and
after that experience he took a crewmember along to hold the candle.
Otherwise, the first week was uneventful, with clear skies and calm seas, as
all England followed the progress of their obelisk in The Illustrated London
News. Although it was late in September, the temperature in the tiny cabins was
brutally hot and stifling, with several of the men preferring to sleep nights, as
best they could, on deck by the steering house. On day six they had half the
Mediterranean behind them and were off the coast of Malta. There was no stop
scheduled, but Carter’s Maltese crew begged for a layover; Carter, fearing they
would desert, continued on.
One night the lookout on the Olga saw a flare go up from the Cleopatra that
was followed by lights signaling “STOP.” The cable had detached and the
Cleopatra was being left behind. Captain Booth quickly turned the Olga
around, came alongside the cylinder and began hauling in the cable, which
took several hours. The fitting attaching the cable to the Cleopatra had broken
but at daybreak it was replaced and the two ships were on their way.
Off the coast of Algeria they hit bad weather and, since they were using
more coal than Captain Booth had anticipated, they put in to port. The crew of
the Olga was given shore leave (they got drunk) but Carter, fearing his Cleopatra
men would jump ship, kept them on board. In less than 24 hours the Olga had
ane ~~ >
i afontebctsTEES
aminknt ede
ED
fathoms. this being reduced to sbo n reveling the ge Bodily. 10.0.—Cluaritig Gaps Prior, Jong bow swel
VAL OF CLE river. The Wig, in addition to her crow, carried Me. Alfred dipping “tig in fom Ni; Cleopatra pitcies considermbly
inder-voatel Cleopatra, constructed by dtr Watkins umd Masters Jobn ond Philip Watkins, Qe nephew bows under occasionally. 10.25-—Set cow
to contain the Beyptian obeli anil tvo sons of the owner; ntl to the Former we are indebted Ushant, NE, wind, 2B by Ni lights
and to serve for its convey for the following account of the voyage from Ferrel to cloudless, excopt sight bank to NE; bs
revolutions; Cape Prior Dearing §
orrived safely mm the Thoes ¢ Grav iho
doy last. Tt wes towel by a steam-te six days. 1, Taceday, J 16, 7.0 a.2n.—Cleopates reported sll
Fernol, the Spanish porto the sh o DayofBiscay, ready’. Anchor hore uj 7.85. Easy ahead, 7-45. Cleopatra
ai been left, as our resders wills suinember, shea appears fo steer very badly;takes a hard sheer to park with me) | Ni : freshening;
Wind pie baieapy 3 Gleopate.
7
etabs list, afar hating beancnet of i a ator bythG Olga, tho helm hurd against her. |Sun not up yet but just rising. | pitchig heavily, but steering very well aiesn
welch haa hsogit st fiom Berl Ihe Utlcr port of the Lamely moming sky clones, excepting a fem light ofeaks |yon incresing Nasty Dauk clouds to tlle NE. Cloud capsot
Torage bis now been anoceentully accomplished by the aidof in Whe each Nothing moving in the arbour except half a | the mountain died to the, Cluepatn, “Shall swe bea
the Anglin, w powerful steam-tug belonging io Mr. Watkins, dren line Asherinen, Opening the entrance fo the| duced toAnswer, * Not sf T wer i your pl %
half speed. 3.30.—-Wind and sea shifting mare ti
of Lomband-sitect, which was ougaged by Mr. Dixon: for this harbour. Engiuesa little fast. Cleopatra still right away on the eustward
special scrvico. ‘The expenses of bringing tho obelisk to the port-quarter, with hor helm hard a-port, aad heeling over | ;blowing hard from the enst; Cleopatre pitching
England, it ie wall known, are defrayed by the splendid somewhat, —8.0.—Quite ensy; short scope of bawser, Just |yory heavily, bat easier; nppoura to have n tendency to rer
liberality of Mr. Erasmus Wilson, the eminent surgeon, to going betwen the forts im the entrance. Cleopatra's bow head tosea, keeping her port side ere to views from th:
whom some token of Royal favour, or some other public testi- adout level with our tow-hook, Kawscr out at nght angles} Anglia, but still following very well; Anglia throwing spre)
monial should proeently de-offered, Hehas received from engines uow aisconnce $.10.—Passing by forts; Cleo fron her bows over the cen and deck. Sunset.—Wind wnc
Princess of Wales 9 graciourmatsage in recognition of his patra stil broad away on port side; sim Just touching the $ea moderated, sky cloudy, Showingsigns for rain, @.0p.m.—
Generous gilt t6 the country. fll tops. $.15.—Hawser nearly at right angles; engines Wind and sea moderate. Increased speod to 13} revel ions
We have to thank both Mr. Dixon and Mx Waiding for going quite cary, eleven revolutions; ‘working disconnected. about six knots, and continued so «Rumng she algh
pemnitting orSpecial Artis, Mr,J. Wells, to accompany the .20-—About midway of channel; beautiful effect of
‘oynge of the Auglin toand from the port of Ferrol, and to the sua over tho bills on to the harbour in the distance.
make the Sketches which furnish our present Instrations
‘The Anglis is on iron padile-tug, having three funnels. She ing, again ; ~
reas built In 1866, andl Se of J70° tons groesand 77 tohs not steainer Maria Yeu. §SS.—Pilot lett; engiice” con- |wake, and pitches very litele exceptanoccasional dive.9.10—
register, Her chgines am 140-hore power, nominal, working meet. $.40.—Gleopatm took a run. to’ starboant, but |Captain Carter wrote ou black board, “Paster if you Uke,”
up te 700, She isthe largest tag in. Shepentof Loon, andl Immediately broke her shear, and came straight agains “com- |Replied, “ Will go fasten" andl tereased speed to 20 reve
uring Inte yours has done a great deel of ocean towing |mences t2 heave inh slight swell, mpage’ up the harbour |Intlons.” Cleopatra ahecring further away
amongst others banging: theSyriafrom St. Helena to South= |mouth. Sh. —Enging a little faster, 15 revolutions; Cleopatra |10.25 —Twenty-four hoars from Cape Prior, distance by log
smpton, the Binfra from St. ‘Vincent to Diverpool, and the commences to roll 8,50.—Takes a hat sheer to sturboard, |115} miles. 11.45.—Cleopatra signals, * What is the trac
Princess Amalia from Port Said to Glwgow, doing the voraga but immediately rans over the other woy, when the hawser |course?” “NNE. from
from Gibraltar to Glasgow with the latter in fourteen days. |checks weigh, §.52.—Another sheer to atarboanl and a heavy |Cape Prior, longitude, 7. wind cast,light
ihe navigating cxptain is Ax. Joho Tracy, and the towing |roll, when checked by the hawser, and thon runs sharp over to |westerly swell beginning to show’ sky clotdy, swit'inviaibte
captain Mr. David Gltos the crow being seventeen hands, port; rounding Capo Printo, ocean swell now felt; Cleopatra
Yold.” Ono advantage of a tug like this over an ordinary Sheering about wildly, roing heavily, $.53.—Quite easy; to Suneet.—Sky swuooth, low
cloudy; wind light, mom northerly; sew very
westerly swell; not «)sail_in sight, to-day
steamer is Uhittshe is Rited with tow-rails, over which the rope eae out more hawser. 9.0.—Ahead easy, paying oat Cloopatra steering wildly after dark.
is guided, so as to make the steoring easier than usual. ‘Tho weer. 2.-—Hawser paid out to full length, one hundred wursday, 1.0 a.m.—Cleopatra biumed 9 white light
cable used Gor ta ing st een was a i-inch hawser, a much |fathoms; Cloopatma steers far better with SS 8: going |:slower; "? eased engines10 ly. Day: come Wink
smaller one taking 1s place on coming np thy niver. ‘The |easy while serving the hawser; Cleopatra Keeps a sheets and
usual length of rope allowed in {owing was one hundred dogs uot ran far out of the wako, but appears to come north-enst, light: sky cloudy; sea ssnooth, tow westerly swell
Cleopatra ‘steering well, 9,80.—Increseed’spoed ; 19} xeva-
a SSS
THE CYLINDEW VESSEL: CLKOPATRA LEAVING
FRRROL IN ‘TOW OF “mot STRAMC TUE ANGLIA.
FROM A SxRTER HY SER SPECIAL ARTI ON OAMD TRE Tea ANOLIAL
Figure 5.5 All of England followed the voyage of Cleopatra’s Needle.
taken on coal and the two vessels were on their way. They reached Gibraltar on
October 7, their first scheduled stop, and put in to port for supplies. Waynman
wrote letters home telling of their progress. The Cleopatra was performing
admirably, but he was worried about Captain Carter, who was exhausted from
his lack of sleep. At Gibraltar Carter had his first full night’s rest in two weeks
and, refreshed and refueled, the armada of two pressed on.
forLondon 139
On October 9 they passed Portugal, rounded Cape St. Vincent and headed
north into the Atlantic. The waves were a bit bigger than in the Mediterranean
but the Cleopatra took them in her stride. Continuing north they passed the
northern coast of Spain and entered the Bay of Biscay, their route to the English
Channel. The Bay was notorious for bad weather, but the two ships needed
only three more days of reasonable weather and they would be safe. On
October 15, their luck ran out.
Hurricane, then disaster
At 9:00 a.m. rains began out of the south-southwest and within a few hours
reached gale force. The waves were building rapidly and for the first time the
Cleopatra was going to be tested. Waynman watched her closely from the
Olga’s deck. At 10:40 a.m. he wrote in his log: “Olga rolling 10 times per minute
10 degrees to port 5 degrees star‘d. It is really wonderful how ‘Cleopatra rides
out the heavy sea—hardly a roll in her!” For the next few hours the barometer
continued to fall and winds were now at hurricane force. Captain Booth
continued to steer the two ships into the wind, then, amid thunder and lightning,
the wind suddenly shifted and both waves and wind came at right angles to the
Cleopatra’s steering house. The winds and waves were so strong that Carter
feared they would rip the deckhouse right off the cylinder. He signaled Captain
Booth to “Prepare to Heave-to, Head to Wind.” He wanted some slack so they
could turn into the wind. Booth replied “Greater Risk to Tow-Line if Hove-to.”
He was afraid of snapping the cable connecting the two vessels.
For an entire day, gale and hurricane forces had tossed them about, and now it
was getting dark. It seemed almost impossible, but the weather was worsening.
Carter, fearing the next wave might wash him off the deck, again signaled “Heave-
to” and Captain Booth, sensing the desperation, complied, skillfully moving the
Olga into the wind. As Carter tried to steer the Cleopatra to follow the Olga’s lead,
a tremendous wave hit the deckhouse, capsizing the Cleopatra. As the cylinder
went over on its side, Carter, clinging desperately to the railing, felt and heard
something moving deep inside the Cleopatra. He immediately knew what it was.
The timber work which secured the iron rails used as ballast gave way, the
rails shifted, and the vessel lay over at an angle of more than 45 degrees from
Figure 5.6 The Cleopatra caught in a hurricane.
the perpendicular. I soon opened the man-hole door in the cabin, and got
my crew into the hold to right the ballast. I found the vessel was taking water
at the upper bolt holes; the gale was at its height, and the sea breaking
completely over. I made signals of distress to the Olga, but still kept working
at the ballast. In a few hours a good proportion of the ballast had been
replaced, and the vessel became a little more upright, but a heavier sea than
usual again threw us over, and the ballast went back to its former position.°
Carter, sensing they could not reposition the ballast, decided their best hope
was to abandon ship. He lowered their little lifeboat but, before they could get
into it, a huge wave sent it crashing into the hull, smashing it to bits. Captain
Booth slowed engines and tried to maneuver the Olga closer to the Cleopatra
and heard, “Foundering, send a boat.’ Booth said to his men, “What can we do,
no boat will live in such a sea.” William Askin, the second mate, replied, “We
must lower a boat and try, we can't leave the poor fellows to drown.” Five other
brave crewmen volunteered and with great difficulty descended in one of their
lifeboats to rescue the Cleopatra’s crew. |
It was now 9:20 p.m. and the storm was still raging. Captain Booth could see
the lifeboat slowly fighting its way through the turbulence towards the
Cleopatra. As it neared the cylinder, Booth lost sight of it in the darkness. The
Figure 5.7 Ina valiant effort to save the crew of the Cleopatra, six brave men lost
their lives.
Cleopatra’s crew was on deck, clinging to the railings. Over an hour later, Askin
and his crew reached the Cleopatra. A line thrown to them was caught, but was
pulled out of the sailor’s hands as the boat was battered by the waves. Then,
before the line could be thrown again, a giant wave reared up, crashed down on
the little boat, and it disappeared.
The six men brave men were never seen again, and Carter and his terrified
crew would have to survive the night on their own. He brought the crew inside
and they descended below the flooring for one last attempt at repositioning the
ballast. For several hours they worked in incredibly cramped conditions, all
the while being thrown around by the waves. They had nearly completed their
task, the Cleopatra was almost upright, and, amazingly, she was headed into the
wind, and it looked as if they might succeed. Then a huge wave crashed into the
side of the Cleopatra, scattering ballast and capsizing the cylinder once again.
It was midnight and on the Olga Captain Booth could see little but by now he
knew his six crewmen who had not returned were probably lost.
On the Cleopatra Carter’s spirits were extremely low. His log entry reads:
“The swells high and confused, and the Olga seems determined to tow us
through the water or under it. I wish she would break down, for the quick
pitching motion is almost unbearable.’ Still, he encouraged his men to keep

trying to reposition the ballast, but one by one they fell to exhaustion. In such
heavy seas, there was the horrible possibility that the two vessels would collide,
so around 1:00 a.m. Captain Booth cast off the towing cable, setting the Cleopatra
adrift. Waynman Dixon volunteered to take a second boat to the Cleopatra, but
no one followed his lead. On the Olga Captain Booth kept his ship as close to the
Cleopatra as possible. At 2:00 a.m. he tried to send a buoy with a line attached to
the Cleopatra. With 100 fathoms of line attached, he steamed around the
Cleopatra, dragging the line so it would cross on top of the cylinder and be
grabbed by the men, enabling them to be hauled on board the Olga, but the sea
was too rough. Booth signaled that they would have to wait for daylight and
Carter replied he didn't think the Cleopatra would float that long. Another
attempt was made at 5:00 a.m. and that too failed, but finally it was getting light.
Booth tried to maneuver the Olga close enough to the Cleopatra to throw
her a line, but was worried that a wave could send him crashing into the
cylinder, sinking both ships. He got as close as possible and heaved a line. It
missed. He tried two more times with no success. Finally a line went across the
Cleopatra’s stern and was grabbed. The Cleopatra’s crew closed all bulkhead
doors, hatches, and manholes in preparation to abandon ship. This was their
last chance. Using the line they had thrown, the Olga sent an unmanned
lifeboat to the foundering Cleopatra. In high seas, one by one the Cleopatra’s
crewmembers jumped into the boat, Captain Carter last. The boat was quickly
hauled into the Olga. Finally all hands were on board.
Booth now steamed off to search for his six missing sailors. Around 1:00
p.m., after not finding anyone, he gave up and returned to where they had left
the Cleopatra. He still intended to bring their obelisk home, but was also
concerned that the 300-ton cylinder would be a hazard to navigation. But it
was gone. Everyone concluded it must have filled with water and was now at
the bottom of the Bay of Biscay.
What began as a wonderful patriotic adventure had ended in disaster. Six brave
men were dead and the object for which they had lost their lives lay beneath the
sea. Captain Booth reset the Olga’s course for Falmouth, reaching it two days later
to deliver their sad news. John Dixon had been waiting anxiously at Falmouth. He
had received a telegram that the Olga had been sighted—without the Cleopatra in
tow. He rushed on board and was relieved to see Captain Carter, but his spirits fell
when his brother told him of the six drowned sailors and the lost obelisk.
forLondon 143
Lost at sea
As they stood on board, none of the sad company had any inkling that the
Cleopatra was still afloat. While Captains Carter and Booth battled the hurricane,
several other captains on the Bay of Biscay were doing exactly the same thing. One
was Captain Evans of the Fitzmaurice, who had sailed from Middlesbrough bound
for Valencia, Spain with a cargo of pig iron. As he entered the Bay he hit the same
strong winds that the other ships encountered and, just like Carter and Booth, he
fought the hurricane, keeping his ship into the wind for a full day. When the storm
finally died down, Evans and the Fitzmaurice resumed course for Valencia. Carter
and Booth had lost the Cleopatra, but now she was about to be found.
Around 4:00 p.m. the Fitzmaurice’s lookout spotted what looked like a
capsized ship. Through his binoculars Captain Evans made out the letters
on the hull: CLEOPATRA. He had read of the Cleopatra’s voyage in
newspapers and knew exactly what she was. Getting as close as possible, he
hailed her but was not hailed back. There was no sign ofher crew. She had been
abandoned.
According to maritime law, if Evans could secure a line to the Cleopatra and
tow her to a port, he would be entitled to payment for his work and also the
value of the ship and its cargo. The Cleopatra was salvage and, given her unique
cargo, it could be worth a considerable sum. The problem was going to be
getting a line on her. Although the gale had subsided, the Cleopatra was
partially submerged and rolling from side to side in rough seas. Some of the
Fitzmaurice’s crew would have to be lowered in a lifeboat onto the churning
seas, then one would have to jump onto the half-submerged bucking cylinder,
catch a line thrown to him and tie it to the Cleopatra. It was a dangerous
proposition and no one volunteered, but when Captain Evans offered a share
in the prize, four men agreed. Just lowering the boat in swells was difficult, but
boarding the Cleopatra proved nearly impossible. One man tried to jump from
the boat onto the Cleopatra’s steering deck, the only place with railings to hang
on to. With the vessel bobbing up and down, it was like jumping onto the back
of a bucking iron horse and he fell into the cold water. His comrades pulled
him back in by the rope they had tied around his waist, but now he was cold,
shivering, and not eager to try again. One by one they tried till, finally, one of
the men made it and secured a towing rope to the Cleopatra. The prize was
theirs; now they just had to tow it to safety.
Figure 5.8 The Cleopatra was found abandoned at sea and towed to Ferrol.
With her steering deck half submerged, it was a difficult tow, but Captain
Evans managed to do it. When the Olga was towing the Cleopatra, a specially
made steel cable was used, but Evans only had thick rope and after a few hours
it snapped. Fortunately the seas were calming and now it was not difficult to
attach a new line and continue towards the nearest port, Ferrol, on the Spanish
coast. On the second day the winds built again to gale force and the tow ropes
separated. The ship was within sight of Ferrol and the captain and crew weren't
going to give up their prize now. By heroic efforts they managed to reconnect
the tow ropes and brought the Cleopatra into the safety of the harbor.
Captain Evans immediately saw that shifting ballast had caused the
Cleopatra to be abandoned. He later commented that, from the way it had been
stowed,“itappeared to be the work of soldiers, and not sailors.° Captain Evans
quickly contacted the British vice-consul and left the Cleopatra in his custody.
The vice-consul telegraphed London and all of England soon knew their
obelisk had not been lost. The two illustrated newspapers of the day, The
Graphic and The Illustrated London News, ran articles about the loss and
recovery of the Cleopatra and the death of the six crewmembers. London knew
they would be getting their obelisk, but at a terrible price.
forLondon 145
The Fitzmaurice continued on to Valencia, dropped its cargo of pig iron,

and picked up a new cargo bound for Liverpool. When Captain Evans docked,
Captain Carter was waiting to ask about the condition of the Cleopatra. Evans
had brought Carter’s log book and some of his navigation instruments, but
almost everything else was gone, scavenged by the Fitzmaurice’s crew, including
a collection of ancient Greek and Roman coins Carter had assembled while in
Alexandria. Carter was told that with some refitting the Cleopatra would be
seaworthy, but before they could begin the salvage claim had to be settled.
What’s an obelisk worth?
Carter returned to London and with John Dixon set off to Scotland to deal with
the owners of the Fitzmaurice, Burrell & Son of Glasgow. Mr. Burrell demanded
5,000 pounds sterling to release the Cleopatra, which was an extraordinarily
high figure. John Dixon countered with an offer to write a check for 600 pounds
on the spot. Burrell wouldn't budge; the matter would be settled in court.
The claim went before Sir R. J. Phillimore in the Admiralty Division of the
High Court. Ina salvage case, there are three amounts that must be determined:
1) actual cost of the salvage; 2) value of the rescued ship; and 3) value of the
cargo. Once these three figures are determined, a judge awards the salvers
some portion of the total sum. Dixon agreed to pay all costs for the salvage, so
that was not a problem, nor was the value of the Cleopatra. It was designed for
only one voyage and was now worth only its value as scrap iron. The problem
was the cargo. What was Cleopatra's Needle worth?
Burrell & Son suggested it was nearly priceless. They pointed out that France
had spent the equivalent of 80,000 pounds sterling to bring their obelisk to
Paris and certainly other European capitals would be willing to purchase such
an ancient and unique antiquity if they had the opportunity. On the other
extreme, John Dixon proposed that the obelisk should be viewed as a load of
stone, valued by the ton! Justice Phillimore didn’t buy Dixons view. He praised
Dixon’s patriotic intention to bring England an obelisk, but explained that it
would play no part in the valuation of the claim. He commended the crew of
the Fitzmaurice for their bravery in boarding the Cleopatra and agreed that
the obelisk was a unique ancient treasure. But what was it worth? After an
adjournment for lunch, he finally assigned a total salvage value of 2,500 pounds
for the Cleopatra and her cargo. Now he had to determine what portion of that
should be the award. He awarded a total of 2,000 pounds plus costs, with 1,200
pounds going to the owners, 250 pounds to Captain Evans, and the rest
distributed among the crew according to their rank, with double shares to the
four brave men who first boarded the Cleopatra. Just as Erasmus Wilson had
predicted in his meeting with John Dixon, it had proven to be a difficult
undertaking with unexpected expenses.
With legalities settled, Captain Carter set out to repair the Cleopatra. It was
now mid-December and with a new crew hired in Liverpool, he boarded the
Spanish steamer, Nina, for Ferrol and the disabled Cleopatra. One of the
crewmembers, Josiah Matthews, was an experienced riveter who would carry out
many of the repairs. Stowed in the hold of the Nina were tons of rivets, iron plates,
steel cables, and anything else they might need to repair the cylinder. As soon as
they arrived, Carter inspected his injured vessel. Internally it was in remarkably
good condition. It had remained watertight throughout its battering so, aside from
repositioning and securing the ballast, there was little to be done. The exterior was
another matter. For three weeks the crew worked to replace the mast, install a new
tiller, repair the smashed rudder and refit the steering deck that had taken the
brunt of the storm. When everything was in order, John Dixon hired the Anglia,
one of the largest and most powerful deep-sea tugs in the Port of London, to tow
the Cleopatra. The Anglia specialized in towing distressed ships and had a crew of
seventeen plus two captains, one to steer the Anglia and one to supervise the ship
being towed. Dixon wasn't taking any chances on losing the Cleopatra again.
The Anglia arrived in Ferrol on January 12 and for two days the three
captains conferred, with Carter familiarizing his two colleagues with the
Cleopatra. Carter had seen what bad weather could do; they would wait till the
forecast was for a considerable period of fair weather before setting out to sea.
Britains Meteorological Department provided daily forecasts and John Dixon
checked these against forecasts telegraphed to him each day from the New York
Herald. All indications were that there should be clear sailing for the immediate
future so it was decided to depart on January 16, a few days before a full moon
on the 19th. Usually a full moon heralded good weather and they wanted it in
the middle of their journey across the Bay of Biscay. However, the weather
forecasts were so optimistic on the 14th that all agreed to push up the departure
forLondon 147
date to the next day. At 7:00 a.m. on January 15, the Anglia gently moved out
through Ferrol harbor with the Cleopatra in tow. The forecasts were accurate
and for two days the weather was unusually fair for the Bay of Biscay in January.
On the morning of the 18th they rounded the tip of France and entered the
English Channel. They were halfway home with only 350 miles to go.
Home at last
While crossing the Channel, the Cleopatra’s steering failed and had to be
repaired. After a while it failed again, but fortunately the full moon forecast
was working; the waters were unusually calm and lack of steering posed no
problem. On January 21 at ten oclock in the morning, they reached Gravesend
and the Cleopatra docked off English soil. Mr. and Mrs. John Dixon were
waiting to greet the two ships. The two vessels cleared customs quickly and by
1:00 p.m. they were slowly sailing up the Thames. After a few hours the ships
were met by a small local tug, the Mosquito, that replaced the Anglia for the
final few miles. As the sun was setting the Mosquito gently guided the Cleopatra
into her berth at the East India Docks; the long journey was over at last.
Although Cleopatra’s Needle was finally in London, it still hadn't been
decided exactly where in the city it would be erected. Various competing camps
had differing philosophies as to the best location for an ancient Egyptian
obelisk. Some favored the middle of a public square, much like France's obelisk
at the Place de la Concorde. Others felt that, because the ancient Egyptians put
obelisks at the entrances to temples, the obelisk should be near buildings. The
two men who had paid for the obelisk’s journey, John Dixon and Sir Erasmus
Wilson, had the privilege of making the ultimate decision. The contract they
signed had stipulated that it would be on the Thames Embankment, but now
both felt a better site would be in front of the Houses of Parliament. John went
so far as to erect a full-scale wood model of the obelisk to show how it would
look. The site was vetoed by some unexpected players—the Directors of the
Metropolitan District Railway. Unfortunately, the proposed site was above a
train route and the Directors were afraid the train’s vibrations would topple the
obelisk, causing it to crash through the top of the tunnel and onto a train. Dixon
suggested that iron beams could be used to reinforce the tunnel, but this was
Figure 5.9 A full-scale wood model of the obelisk was built to see how it would look
in front of the Houses of Parliament.
not convincing. The Directors wanted a perpetual indemnity and no insurance

company would take that risk, so Cleopatra's Needle was still in need of a site.
Eventually it was decided that the original site agreed upon by Dixon and
Wilson was best and John quickly dismantled his wood obelisk and re-erected
it at the Adelphi Steps of the Thames Embankment to show Londoners how
their obelisk would look when finally set upright. He next had the Cleopatra
towed from the East India Docks to a dock opposite the Houses of Parliament
so that it could be visited. For the four weeks that this unusual vessel remained
docked, curious Londoners were permitted to go on board and some
forLondon 149
adventurous souls even descended beneath the floor to catch a glimpse of

Cleopatra's Needle. London was caught up in obelisk fever.
While London was meeting and greeting its obelisk, the site at the
Embankment was being readied to receive London’s newest and oldest
monument. The location by the Adelphi Steps was basically a platform supported
by four giant arches that would have to be filled in if they were to support the
230-ton obelisk. For two months, workers mixed and poured thousands of tons
of concrete, filling in the arches, creating a massive support, all paid for by John
Dixon. How right Erasmus Wilson was when he predicted unforeseen expenses!
But it was now time for the Cleopatra to make her last voyage.
On May 30 Captain Carter supervised the towing of the Cleopatra to the
Adelphi Steps, where an ingenious dry dock awaited her. A wood cradle was
anchored to the riverbed so that when the tide rose it would just barely be
submerged. The Cleopatra was floated above the cradle, and when the tide
went out, she came safely to rest in her dry dock. The dock’s anchor was then
pulled up so the cylinder would be permanently out of the water, enabling a
swarm of ironworkers to dismantle her. First the steering deck that Captain
Carter and his men had clung to in the hurricane was stripped off for its scrap
value. Next the uppermost iron plates were removed and workers descended
Figure 5.10 Londoners were permitted to crawl beneath the floorboards of the
Cleopatra for a glimpse of the obelisk.
into the hull, removing the cabins and flooring, exposing the obelisk to the
light of day for the first time since it left Egypt. One wonders what John Dixon
thought as he watched his cylinder being destroyed.
The tops of the bulkheads were removed so the obelisk could be lifted out
of what remained of the Cleopatra. Four pairs of hydraulic jacks were placed
beneath the obelisk and slowly lifted the granite monolith a few inches at a
time. As the obelisk inched upwards, timbers were placed under it, the jacks
were raised a bit, and the process was repeated till the needle was hovering on
timbers and jacks above the Cleopatra. Now it had to be hauled up the steps
leading from the dock to the embankment some thirty feet above.
The obelisk was clad in wood to protect it as it ascended the stairs. The
needle was raised and pulled up at the same time—raised by the hydraulic jacks
and pulled up by four screw traversers. Traversers are basically four-inch-wide
screws that are slowly retracted by men working giant winch-like levers. With
the obelisk’s point aimed up the stairs, the wood casing was attached to the
four screws on the steps above. As the jacks elevated the obelisk’s bottom, the
screws were retracted and pulled the monolith up. When the obelisk gained a
few inches, beams were placed under it and the journey continued. It was
painstaking work, taking nearly two weeks to elevate the obelisk thirty feet up
to the Embankment, but finally it rested horizontally on a bed of timbers. The
final step was to raise the obelisk onto its new pedestal of granite blocks.
Benjamin Baker, who had created the Cleopatra at the Thames Iron Works,
was called upon to fashion an iron mechanism that would support the obelisk
in a horizontal position fifty feet above the ground and then swing it into
position on top of its pedestal. Before the obelisk began the journey skywards,
an iron sleeve was fitted over its middle at its exact center of gravity. This jacket
was attached to iron beams so that, once the obelisk had been raised horizontally
fifty feet into the air, it could be rotated from its horizontal position to vertical,
and then lowered onto its pedestal. Throughout the summer, teams of
carpenters nailed and bolted together a giant wood scaffold to support the
obelisk and its turning mechanism as it was raised aloft. Now they had to raise
the 300-ton combination of granite and iron fifty feet into the air.
The same hydraulic jacks that had lifted the obelisk out of the Cleopatra and
up the Adelphi Steps were now placed beneath the iron beams supporting the
obelisk. Using the same system of jacks and wood beams, the obelisk rose four
Figure 5.11 Throughout the summer of 1878, teams of carpenters nailed and bolted
together the mechanism that was needed to turn the obelisk to vertical and place it
on its base.
inches in ten minutes. Then the lifting was halted, timbers were placed under
the obelisk, the jacks were repositioned, and another four inches could be
gained. This continued throughout August and by early September the obelisk,
like a magician’s assistant, levitated fifty feet above the ground, ready to be
swung to the vertical and placed on its pedestal.
John Dixon announced to the public that he would lower the obelisk onto
its pedestal at 3:00 p.m. on September 12. This gave him a few days to test his
system and make sure everything would go smoothly. The day before the big
event, he removed the iron pins that locked the obelisk into a horizontal
position and discovered that he had calculated the obelisk’s center of gravity so
accurately that just his own muscle power, pulling on a cable, could move the
obelisk towards vertical. Satisfied, he replaced the pins and waited for the next
day. All of London was in a buzz.
People started gathering around the obelisk early in the morning to get a
good viewing spot. For months Londoners had been following the saga of
Cleopatras Needle. Both the Graphic and The Illustrated London News had
Figure 5.12 When the obelisk arrived, Victorian ladies wore obelisk pencils around
their necks.
chronicled building the cylinder, the loss at sea, and the deaths of six seamen.
Now that the obelisk was finally in London, everyone felt invested in its safety
and its successful erection on the banks of the Thames. All Londoners wanted
to be part of history. Hawkers sold an assortment of souvenirs; one of the most
popular was a lead pencil in the shape of an obelisk that ladies could hang on
a chain around their necks. Pamphlets offering translations of the obelisk’s
hieroglyphs were offered for a penny, and there was even a song called
“Cleopatra's Needle Waltz” that was dedicated to Erasmus Wilson.
As the crowd grew so did anticipation, and by noon everyone was eager to
see their obelisk finally on its pedestal. Then, as if the obelisk hadn't had its fair
share of bad weather, rains came—heavy rains that began at 1:00 p.m. and kept
falling, scattering the crowd, forcing everyone to seek cover. Finally, after an
hour of downpour, the rain stopped, the sun broke through the clouds, and the
crowds gathered again.
A few minutes before three oclock John Dixon gave the signal to remove the
pins that held the obelisk in a horizontal position. Steel cables running from
the obelisk to two pairs of winches on either side of it steadied the stone shaft.
COMPLETE HISTORY 2
A
OF THE
ROMANTIC LIFE AND TRAGIC DEATH
OF THE
Beautiful Egyptian Queen

CLEOPATRA; ALL ABOUT HER
NEEDLE,
3,000 YEARS GOLD!
And the Events that led to its arrival in
ENGLAND;
WITH AN
INTERPRETATION OF ITS:CURIOUS
HIEROGLYPHIC INSCRIPTIONS.
W. Smithfield
LONDON: Published by W. SUTTON, 91, St. John Street,
PRICE ONE PENNY. . .
Figure 5.13 When the obelisk was erected, hawkers sold penny translations of the
obelisk’s hieroglyphs.
When John Dixon gave the signal, four men on each winch started turning,
drawing in the cables, and the 230-ton obelisk began slowly rotating through
the air. The packed, wet crowd stood transfixed, amazed at how gracefully the
massive stone moved. After ten minutes ofbreathless silence the shaft of granite
was at 45 degrees—halfway to vertical. A few minutes later it was at 60 degrees,
AS PLAYED BY THE BAND OF THE 17" LANCERS
Siege
ge
cn
Pace
Sno
So
any
cloriMase
TCD
Figure 5.14 London went wild with obelisk mania and one could dance to the
“Cleopatra’s Needle Waltz.”
with the men still straining at their winches. When Big Ben sounded 3:30 p.m.,
the obelisk was upright, hovering just four inches above its pedestal.
Dixon had calculated that the obelisk could balance on its pedestal with
nothing fixing it to the base, just as the ancient Egyptian engineers had done.
As they looked at the suspended monolith, one of the engineers felt it didn’t
look quite right; it didn’t appear to be perfectly vertical. They decided to wait
till morning to check the angle of the obelisk and then lower it. When they
announced to the crowd that the day’s work was over everyone burst into
forLondon 155
applause. It had been an exhausting day for Dixon, Wilson, and everyone else
involved in the obelisk’s erection, but it had been a rousing success.
The following day the obelisk was found to be perfectly vertical and was
lowered the final four inches onto its pedestal. For the next few weeks the site
was cleared. The iron jacket around the obelisk’s middle was removed, the huge
timbers for the scaffolding were taken down, and the iron turning mechanism
was dismantled. Commemorative plaques were added to the pedestal that can
still be read by visitors today. One tells the obelisk’s ancient history and then
recounts its more modern adventure:
PERO
U GH. Sine “PATRIOTIC ZEAL OF
ERASMUS WILSON E-.R.S
THIS OBELISK
WAS BROUGHT FROM ALEXANDRIA
ENCASED IN AN IRON CYLINDER
[Te Wwas ABANDONED, DURING “AY STORM
tN He BAY “OR “BISCAY
RECOVERED AND ERECTED
ON DIS “SP Os) BY
JOHN “DIXON: ~G.E:
[IN THE 42°" “YEAR “OF* THEs REIGN OF
QOUEREN - VICTORIA
1878
Most visitors to the obelisk see this plaque but there is another, on the side
facing the Thames, that is usually missed. There is an ancient Egyptian
expression,
“To say the name of the dead is to make him live again.” Whenever
I visit the obelisk, I walk around to the riverside and read the plaque.
WILLIAM ASKIN MICHAEL BURNS

JAMES GARDINER WILLIAM DONALD
JOSEPH BENBOW WILLIAM PATAN
PERISHED! IN vA BOLD> ATTEMPT

TO. SUCCOUR THE sCREW. “OF 9THE
OBELISK SHIP ~“CUEROPATRA> DURING
THE, STORM, OCTOBER. | 147%) (1877
The Oldest Skyscraper in New York
Bringing an obelisk to London had cost England the lives of six brave men, but
in spite of that tragedy, America was now determined to have its own obelisk.
Paris and London had theirs, so why not New York? The idea of an American
obelisk was not new. In 1869, when the world gathered in Egypt for the opening
of the Suez Canal, the United States was offered an obelisk, not out of generosity
and friendship, but out of desperation. Egypt was bankrupt, but the preparations
for the canal’s opening had been made, the invitations to the world’s rulers had
been sent, and the Empress Eugénie’s palace had been completed, so in spite of
financial difficulties, the festivities had to go forward. The only problem was
that Egypt no longer owned the canal. It was in the hands of receivers, owned
by the powers of Europe who had loaned the funds to build it. It was under
these difficult circumstances that William H. Hurlbert, editor of the New York
World, was introduced to Egypt’s ruler, Khedive Ismail, at the opening
ceremonies. Khedive Ismail, eager for an ally to save him from his European
creditors, suggested to Hurlbert that America might want an obelisk, but
nothing was done and the offer was soon forgotten. Eight years later, in 1877,
when London erected its obelisk and New York was suffering from obelisk
envy, Hurlbert would have gladly accepted the Khedive’s offer, but did it still
hold?
In 1877 a friend of Hurlbert’s chanced to meet in London John Dixon who,
along with his brother, was in the process of moving London’s obelisk. Dixon
informed Hurlbert that Egypt was willing to offer America an obelisk and that,
for 15,000 pounds sterling, Dixon could bring the upright Alexandrian obelisk
to the United States. Hurlbert was ecstatic; not only would America get an
obelisk, he had a news scoop. He quickly published an article telling New
Yorkers that they would soon have an obelisk. The Commissioner of Parks,
The Oldest Skyscraper in New York 157
Henry G. Stebbins, contacted William Vanderbilt to ask him to head a

committee to raise the necessary funds. Vanderbilt, caught up in the obelisk
mania, offered to pay the entire bill. New York had to have an obelisk.
Things moved quickly. Vanderbilt contacted Dixon to work out a contract
to move the obelisk, Stebbins contacted the Department of State to ask for
assistance in dealing with the Khedive. E. E. Farman, United States Consul-
General in Cairo, was instructed to get the gift in writing. New York
eagerly awaited news of when the obelisk would arrive, but there was one
problem; the Khedive now had no intention of giving away another obelisk. It
was all a mistake, something like the game of telephone where the whispered
message gets garbled through numerous transmissions. Dixon hadn't said
anything about Egypt's willingness to give away an obelisk. He merely suggested
that if the United States could get an obelisk, he could bring it to America’s
shore.
Does the offer still hold?
This all became clear when Consul-General Farman received his instructions
to secure the gift of the obelisk. The 46-year-old Farman had only recently
been appointed Consul-General but he was a brilliant man with considerable
talents. He had studied International Law in Heidelberg and Berlin, and these
skills were critical to his job in Egypt, a country being pulled in all directions
by foreign powers. His photo shows a handsome man with dark, attentive eyes
and a short but untrimmed brown beard.
Farman was in constant contact with the Khedive, but had never heard
mention of an obelisk, so he knew something was wrong. Soon a letter arrived
from Dixon explaining the confusion. “This is all very proper but my name has
been mixed up with it as though I were a purveyor of obelisks to H.H.!! I
believe it was founded upon a casual remark of mine that if the U.S. wanted an
obelisk, I thought it possible that one might be obtained.”
So there was no offer of an obelisk, and once the confusion was straightened
out, Farman received no further communications about obelisks from the
State Department, or from anyone else. If America was going to have an obelisk,
the Consul-General would have to start from square one and do the work on
his own, but did he want to do that? Around this time, a tourist from the United
States arrived and helped him decide—General Ulysses S. Grant.
The great Civil War hero had just completed his second term as President of
the United States and had declined to run for a third. After three decades of
public service, he was ready for some relaxation, and on May 17, 1877 sailed
from Philadelphia to begin a grand tour around the world. By the time he
arrived in Alexandria, Egypt on February 4, 1878, he had already seen Europe
and was eager to encounter Egypt's antiquities.
Grant was welcomed by Farman, the Governor of Alexandria, and
representatives of the Khedive, who informed the General that the Khedive
would be pleased to provide a palace in Cairo to lodge his group and also a
steamboat for their trip up the Nile—just the kind of generous hospitality that
was bankrupting Egypt. When the travelers reached Cairo, a large welcoming
party of officials and civilians had formed. Grant was wildly popular wherever
he went and Egypt was no exception. Among the throng was William Loring,
with whom Grant had served more than thirty years earlier. Loring was amazed
when his old comrade picked him out of the crowd and warmly greeted him.
The Khedive gave a reception and proudly showed Grant the murals in
Eugénie’s palace commemorating the opening of the Suez Canal. In the evening
Farman hosted a dinner at the New Hotel. Grant, a sharp judge of character,
quickly sized up the young Consul-General and commented to a member of
his party that “America had in Mr. Farman a most excellent representative, who
could not but do honor to consular service.” Farnam would indeed prove to be
a credit to his country. A few years later he would help restructure Egypt’s
judicial system and serve as a judge in its Mixed (International) Courts. The
young Consul also had a sense of humor.
While the party was in Cairo they traveled to see the tree under which the
Holy Family had supposedly rested during their flight into Egypt. Loring was
with the group and mentioned to Farman that he intended to make a welcoming
speech for the General and tried it out on Farman. Just as Loring was ready to
make his presentation, Farman stood up and gave the speech, almost verbatim.
Loring was literally at a loss for words. It was all in good fun, and Loring took
it that way, but the next day he got his revenge. The party was visiting the
Pyramids of Giza where a group photo was going to be taken. Loring later
recounted, “My friend, the Consul-General, placed himself near the ladies to
good advantage. I was talking to some Bedouins when I noticed the operator
fixing the camera. Immediately I rushed between the Consul-General and
the instrument. The picture was taken, and I completely blotted him out. This
was how I got my revenge out of him for stealing my speech. Grant was very
amused at the incident.”
Which obelisk is ours?
When General Grant's party started up the Nile on the Khedive’s steamer,
Consul-General Farman was with him. He was good company, intelligent,
witty, and officially responsible for General Grant’s safety and comfort in
Egypt. He also had an ulterior motive for joining the group. He had been
thinking about how America could obtain an obelisk and needed to determine
which one would be most likely to be given and transported, should the
Khedive agree for one to leave Egypt.
There were only five large obelisks left standing in Egypt, and Farman knew
two of them well. One was in the Heliopolis section of Cairo, but this one had its
own special problem. It was the oldest obelisk in Egypt, centuries older than the
other four erect ones, and clearly Egypt was not going to give away its senior
obelisk. He was also quite familiar with the single standing obelisk at
Alexandria—the mate to the one the British had recently taken. It was right on
the coast and stood alone, perfectly situated for removal, but Farman knew there
was a political problem with this obelisk. The inhabitants of that city might
protest too much. When the British took their obelisk there was an outcry about
Egypt's treasures being stolen by foreigners. Now, taking the second one might
be difficult. That left the three still upright in the south of Egypt. As he steamed
south with General Grant’s party Farman would have a chance to examine the
three southern obelisks first-hand and assess which might be best for America.
General Grant on the Nile
The nucleus of the group of travelers consisted of General Grant, his wife and
their twenty-year-old son Jesse and Consul-General Farman. Also along was
John Russell Young, a 37-year-old journalist whom Grant had sent on missions
to Europe for the State Department, but on this trip he was the unofficial
historian, sending telegraphic dispatches to the New York Herald describing
the trip so readers could follow the General’s adventures abroad. Young would
later write a two-volume chronicle titled Around the World with General Grant
and in 1897 would be appointed Librarian of Congress by President McKinley.
The General had also invited three officers from the Vandalia, the ship that
brought them to Alexandria. In addition, Farman had brought his consulate’s
majordomo, Hassan, who was an object of wonder for the group. Hassan
dressed in Arab style, complete with turban and scimitar, and possessed two
wives! He also took pride in his service and wore a gold American eagle pin.
The Khedive also sent his trusted majordomo, Sami Bey, to make sure things
went smoothly as the General and his party steamed up the Nile. Perhaps the
most important member of the group was Emile Brugsch, a high-ranking
official in the Antiquities Service who served as the group's guide. Brugsch’s
older brother Heinrich, also an Egyptologist, was director of the newly created
Egyptian Museum in Boulagq, a district of Cairo.
There was excitement within the band of travelers. Those who had not seen
Egypt's ancient monuments were eager; those who had were thrilled to be
traveling with the General. It was a compatible group, happy to leave Cairo. The
city was too French for their taste, not Middle Eastern enough. The walls of the
palace the Khedive had provided were covered with French wallpaper, there
was French dinnerware, French food. The Service des Antiquités was run by
the French; even official governmental correspondence was in French. Now on
their steamer Zinet el Bohren (“Light of Two Rivers”) they could have a proper
oriental adventure.
They enjoyed being tourists, bought fezzes to go a la Turque and rode
donkeys to the sites to be visited. It was all great fun. As they steamed south
and visited the temples and tombs along the way, anticipation was growing.
They were nearing Luxor, the holy grail of all Victorian travelers to Egypt. This
ancient religious capital of Egypt held more spectacular monuments than any
other city in the world—Luxor and Karnak Temples on the east bank, and on
the west were the Valley of the Kings, the mortuary temple of Ramses the
Great, and the temple of Deir el Bahri, built by Queen Hatshepsut who ruled
Egypt as pharaoh. It would be a grand adventure.
By the time the Zinet el Bohren docked at Luxor the travelers were far more
sophisticated about ancient Egypt than when they began their journey. At first
they asked Brugsch only questions relating to the Bible: “Was this temple of the
time of Moses or of Abraham?” “In which city were the Israelites held in
bondage?” The Bible was their sole reference point to ancient Egypt; Sunday
school was the only place anyone learned about Egypt. Under Brugsch’s
tutelage they soon learned that many of Egypt’s tombs and temples were far
older than either Moses or Abraham. Now they were asking “Which Ramses
built that pylon?” “Was Hatshepsut married to Tuthmosis II or Tuthmosis
III?” They delighted in the way Brugsch made the monuments come alive,
telling the stories behind the stones. The journalist, John Russell Young, later
commented in his book Around the World with General Grant that Brugsch
“knows every tomb and column in the land”
The party was pleased to have reached Luxor, but Consul-General Farman
had his own secret reason to be happy. He was going to have a chance to
examine the obelisks at Luxor and Karnak Temples to determine which could
best be sent to America. Two were still standing at Karnak Temple, one erected
by Hatshepsut, the female pharaoh, and the second raised by her father
Tuthmosis I. When the party visited Karnak, Brugsch translated the inscription
on the base of Hatshepsut’s obelisk, telling how it and its now broken twin were
quarried and transported in just seven months. As Farman listened to Brugsch
tell the obelisk’s story, he must have realized that the Egyptians would never let
Hatshepsut’s only standing obelisk, and the tallest obelisk in all of Egypt, leave
the country. There was another reason why the obelisk would not be coming to
America. Both Hatshepsut’s obelisk and that of her father just a few yards away
were smack dab in the middle of the temple, hemmed in by other buildings,
and it would be very difficult to lower them from their pedestals. When they
were first erected they stood at the entrance to the temples, but throughout
the following centuries other pharaohs had added their buildings in front of
the temples, surrounding the obelisks. The sharp-eyed Farman also noted
that the Tuthmosis I obelisk had a crack and it would have been dangerous to
try to lower it. No, the Karnak obelisks were out. That left the one at Luxor
Temple.
When the group approached Luxor they were surprised to see the British
flag flying above the temple. The British consulate had been built inside the
Temple of Luxor! The group noted that it was totally out of place and asked
Brugsch why this had been permitted. “The Khedive doesn’t want to offend
England. They only regard these monuments as reservoirs from which they
can supply their own museums.” Indeed, all along the trip Brugsch had
expressed his view that the French and English were vandals. One can only
wonder what he would have thought if he had read Farman’s mind as he stood
in front of the obelisk.
As Farman stared up at the beautiful, pristine shaft of granite erected by
Ramses the Great he had visions of this gem coming to the United States. It was
in beautiful condition, and the French had removed its mate in 1833, so clearly
it was possible for American engineers to lower and remove this one. It was a
real possibility. But there was also the obelisk at Alexandria that was closer to
the sea and perhaps easier to move. He had two possibilities; could he get one
of them? But first he had to answer the question, should he ask for an obelisk?
As the United States’ Consul-General to Egypt, Farman’s job was to assist
American citizens in Egypt and to implement policy sent from Washington.
Once the confusion about an obelisk being offered to the United States had
been cleared up, he hadn't heard a word about obelisks, not from Secretary of
State William Everts nor from the New York contingent that had been so eager
for an obelisk. Once everyone learned that no obelisk had been offered, it was
a dead issue. Undoubtedly New Yorkers would still like one, and Vanderbilt
was almost certainly still willing to pay for its transportation, but should
Farman, without orders from Washington, ask for one? He wasnt sure, but
there was someone who would know what to do—the former President of the
United States of America, Ulysses S. Grant.
Farman explained to the General the history of the misunderstanding and
the correspondences that had gone back and forth concerning the obelisk and
asked about the propriety of attempting to obtain an obelisk on his own
initiative. Grant replied that he saw no objection and advised Farman to
procure one if possible. It was a go. As the group sailed south to Philae Temple
and then back to Cairo, Farman worked out his strategy. He would approach
the Khedive with his request and present the case why it would be good for
Egypt to give an obelisk to America.
The group reached Cairo in the beginning of February and on February 9,
1878 Grant and his party left Egypt to continue their tour around the world.
On March 4, 1878 Farman had an audience with the Khedive at the Abdin
Palace, the sprawling winter residence of the royal family. He was ready to
present his request. When Farman asked His Highness about the possibility of
Egypt giving America an obelisk the Khedive was surprised. Farman expected
this, since neither Dixon nor anyone else had discussed the matter with His
Highness. Farman explained that Paris and London had obelisks but New
York, a far bigger city, had more people who would see an obelisk there, and
Egypt's tourist business would increase. He had two possible obelisks in mind,
the one at Luxor and the one at Alexandria. He suggested the Alexandria
obelisk would be the better of the two since it would be the easiest to move.
The Khedive replied that he was favorably inclined to offer America an obelisk,
but there were problems. He felt the Alexandria obelisk would be out of the
question as the inhabitants of that city would protest too much. But he did say
he would consider the request, and with that the audience was concluded. The
Khedive was indeed inclined to give an obelisk to the Unites States because his
country needed all the friends it could muster. He had just been forced to sell
the Gizira Palace to a hotel chain to pay some of his European creditors and
there was a movement on the part of France to depose him. It would not hurt
to have the United States of America on his side.
Serious negotiations
Several days later the Khedive hosted a dinner party at the Abdin Palace for
several dozen guests and invited Counsel-General Farman. Also present was
Ferdinand de Lesseps, the builder of the Suez Canal, who had become a close
friend and advisor to the Khedive. After dinner, the guests were standing in
small groups in one of the palace’s ballrooms when the Khedive walked up to
Farman and said, “Well, Mr. Farman, you would like an obelisk?” Farman
replied that America would like one very much, but before the conversation
could continue, others joined them, ending that discussion.
Later in the evening Farman was sitting talking with de Lesseps about
Egypt's debt. This was a particularly difficult time for Egypt and the Khedive.
Egypt owed European investors one hundred million pounds and was unable
to pay even the seven percent interest. The Nile had not risen that year and the
crops had failed. Egypt was still using the same system of irrigation used by
their ancient ancestors. Each year when the monsoons arrived in Ethiopia the
Nile swelled with the runoff. As the river entered Egypt in the North, it
overflowed its banks, depositing rich silt over the land. When there was a low
Nile, water was too scarce for irrigation, the land was not fertilized, and famine
occurred. Just as it had sometimes occurred in ancient times, Egypt was now
suffering from a low Nile. With no crops to export there was no way to pay the
debt. De Lesseps was appointed by the Khedive as head of a commission to
restructure Egypt’s debt and determine a new interest rate. As Farman and de
Lesseps were discussing the country’s finances the Khedive walked over, sat
next to the two men and, interrupting the conversation said, “Mr. Farman
wants an obelisk.” De Lesseps replied, “That would be an excellent thing for the
people of the United States.” He then paused, thought a moment and continued:
“And I do not see why we could not give them one. It would not injure us
much, and would be a very valuable acquisition for them.” The Khedive replied,
“I am considering the matter,’ and walked away.
Farman was encouraged. The Khedive, not he, had raised the subject. Why
would the Khedive raise the subject if he weren't favorably inclined? Three days
later Farman called on the Khedive and was informed that His Highness had
decided to give America an obelisk, but not the one at Alexandria, because there
were too many political problems with that one; it would have to be another one.
A few days later, Farman was attending a ball at the palace and was
approached by Heinrich Brugsch, the older Brugsch brother who was the
Museums Director. “I learn you are trying to obtain an obelisk to take to New
York.’ Farman heard the disapproval in Brugsch’s voice and replied, “Why not?
They have one in Paris and one in London, and the people of New York wish
one also.” The Egyptologist was not impressed.
You will create a great amount of ill feeling; all the scholars of Europe will
oppose it. The Khedive has asked me to give a description of the obelisks
remaining in Egypt, and to state which one can best be spared; I shall not
designate any to be taken away, for I am totally opposed to the removal of
any of them.
Brugschs feeling towards the antiquities of Egypt was shared by many others.
The rape of Egypt was over and Farman was trying to get an obelisk at the
wrong time. Many now felt that Egypt's antiquities should remain in Egypt. As
an Egyptologist, Brugsch realized that each obelisk remaining in Egypt was
different, had been erected by a different pharaoh, and told a different story. To
Farman, they were all the same: tall, silent slabs of granite.
This question of what should be done with Egypt’s patrimony continues
today. There are constant reports of Dr. Zahi Hawass, former Secretary-General
of Egypt's Supreme Council of Antiquities, asking the British Museum
to return the Rosetta Stone, or demanding the Berlin Museum return the bust
of Nefertiti. Should they be returned? It is not an easy decision. If an object
is freely given, isn’t it OK to keep it? This was precisely Farman’s position.
The Khedive was the ruler of Egypt and the obelisk was his to give, though he
didn’t attempt to convince Brugsch of that. Brugsch had told the truth when
he said others would oppose any obelisk leaving Egypt. Farman thought the
opposition was coming from foreigners, Europeans who already had their
share of Egypt's treasures. No, he would continue to work towards securing
an obelisk for America, but he had yet another unpleasant surprise ahead
of him.
Farman had been told by the Khedive that the Alexandria obelisk was out
of the question, so it seemed that the Luxor obelisk was the only real possibility
left. Word had gotten around Cairo that Farman wanted an obelisk, and soon
after the disturbing conversation with Brugsch, the British Consul-General
informed Farman that the Luxor obelisk had been given to the British many
years ago, and although the British didn't intend to take it soon, they objected
to anyone else removing “their” obelisk. Farman checked with the Khedive and,
indeed, it was true! When the Khedive'’s grandfather, Mohamed Ali, gave the
French their obelisk, he gave the British the second obelisk at Luxor. Now they
had approached the Khedive and reasserted their claim to it. The Khedive told
Farman that his hands were tied and he couldn't offer the Luxor obelisk to the
United States. To Farman it seemed as if all of Europe was conspiring to ensure
that he didn’t get an obelisk. He was right.
Weeks passed with no mention of an obelisk, partly because the Khedive
had asked Brugsch to select the obelisk that could be most easily spared, and
Brugsch was not going to do anything of the sort. Finally, in the spring of 1878,
the Khedive opened the discussion again and said that though he had not yet
selected an obelisk, he intended to do so soon. There was hope!
As prospects for obtaining an obelisk were finally looking up, Egypt and the
Khedive were sliding downward towards hard times. Egypt was bankrupt and
thousands of peasants in the south had died of starvation the previous year.
Once again, Egypt could not pay its debts, and England and France notified the
Khedive that in April they would insist on payment for the debt coupons they
held. To pay the debt, the Khedive was forced to pledge the wheat that was now
growing in the south. It was a desperate gamble. If the harvest were not
exceptionally good, there would be another famine.
In June a commission formed by European nations to oversee the finances
of Egypt demanded that the Khedive and his two brothers surrender their
private estates as collateral for further debt payment. The royal family signed
over 25,000 acres of land to the government that were then mortgaged to
secure a loan from the Bank of Rothschild. Times were grim. Many government
officials were dismissed because there were no funds to pay them, as were
many Americans who were in the Khedive'’s military service. Most were Civil
War veterans, brought to Egypt to help modernize Egypt's army. These soldiers
had back pay due them for their services and it was Farman’s job, as their
representative in Egypt, to press the Khedive for payment, while at the same
time he was trying to obtain the Khedive's permission to acquire an obelisk. It
was an impossible position, and with the oppressive heat of summer settling in
on Cairo, he asked for a leave of absence and returned to the United States.
When Farman returned to Egypt in November, he found a new government
in power. An Anglo-French Ministry was now running the country. The
Khedive was still the nominal head of Egypt, but foreign powers controlled the
purse and internal workings of the country. If Farman was to secure an obelisk,
it was this Ministry that would have to give it, and they were Europeans. To
make matters worse, a very powerful force was telling them not to give away an
obelisk.
Brugsch Bey (Bey was a title given to high government officials) had already
said that he would not select an obelisk to be taken out of the country. Now he
was joined by Auguste Mariette, the Director of the Service des Antiquités,
who sent a memorandum to the Ministry stating that he was strongly opposed
to any obelisk leaving Egypt. The memorandum explained the uniqueness and
importance of three of the obelisks—the two standing at Karnak Temple and
the one remaining in Heliopolis. He knew that the one at Luxor was protected
by the British and the Alexandrian obelisk was off limits because of the uproar
any attempt to move it would cause.
It is ironic that Mariette was now the defender of Egypt’s treasures. As a
young man in the 1850s he was first sent to Egypt by France to purchase
ancient manuscripts. While he was waiting for the deal to be struck (it never
was) he explored the sites of Egypt. At Saqqara he discovered the ancient burial
site of the sacred Apis bulls, took his manuscript money and used it to excavate
the tombs, and packed up everything that wasn’t nailed down and shipped it
back to the Louvre. Soon after, he was asked to leave the country for pillaging.
Much later he was appointed Director of the Antiquities Service and was now
defending Egypt's treasures! In Egypt there is an expression that the only thing
that is permanent is change. Farman was experiencing this every time he
thought he had an obelisk in his grasp.
Certainly at this point things were bleak for America’s obelisk. The Khedive,
though in favor of giving the obelisk, was powerless. The Ministry, which had
the power to give it, was being lobbied by foreign powers and the two highest-
ranking Egyptologists in the country not to allow any obelisk to leave. Just as
things seemed utterly hopeless, sunlight entered through an unexpected crack.
The head of the Ministry was Nubar Pasha, who had recently fought and
won a heroic battle to reform Egypt's antiquated judicial system. To do this he
went throughout Europe convincing foreign powers to agree to participate in
a system of Mixed (International) Courts in Egypt. One expert on the Mixed
Courts said, “Nubar’s struggle is entitled to be ranked among the foremost
diplomatic achievements of modern history.”' Nubar, who was now acting as
Egypt’s first prime minister, informed Farman that he was fully aware of his
negotiations for an obelisk and, since the English claimed the Luxor obelisk,
and Mariette was opposed to the Karnak and Heliopolis obelisks being
removed, he would give America the obelisk at Alexandria! He even drafted a
memorandum to the Minister of Public Works to put the gift in motion.
Farman was elated, but then things changed again.
Details of the famine in the south reached Cairo and Egyptians were furious
because the Commission had sold their grain to pay the government's debt and
now people were starving. A mob, led by former officers and soldiers who had
been fired without pay, attacked Nubar and other government officials in the
street. They were held prisoner till the Khedive personally came to free them.
The Khedive took advantage of the anti-European sentiment and moved

quickly. For the safety of the country, he asserted, Egypt must have Egyptian
rulers.
He disbanded the Commission and appointed a new, entirely Egyptian,
Commission. For President of the Commission he selected Cherif Pasha, a
man admired by all for his honesty and intelligence. From an aristocratic
family, Cherif had been educated in Europe, but chose the life of an Egyptian
public servant, beginning his career in the army and quickly rising to the rank
of colonel. Now he was Egypt's most powerful government official during
Egypt's most difficult time. Soon, under his stewardship, the government began
to stabilize and function again, largely because everyone had confidence in this
noble man.
Farman and Cherif knew and respected each other, and after a few weeks of
political calm, Farman screwed up his courage to ask about the obelisk. Cherif’s
reply was that he would have to speak to the Khedive; Farman could check
with him the next day and he would have an answer.
“We have concluded to give it to you”
The next day Farman called at the palace and was told Cherif Pasha was in a
meeting with the Khedive. Farman dropped in on the Khedive's seal-bearer
and found him chatting with the Khedive's two brothers. The three invited the
Consul-General to join them for coffee and, just as Farman settled in, a very
agitated Cherif Pasha walked in. Farman sensed there were governmental
problems again. Cherif said something in Arabic to the seal-bearer and then
indicated by a nod that Farman should follow him outside. Cherif walked
silently with Farman down a long hallway and then descended a grand staircase
leading to the door, where Farman’s carriage was waiting. As they walked
through the doorway Cherif Pasha asked, “It is the obelisk in Alexandria that
you prefer, is it not?” The Consul-General explained that it would be the easiest
to remove. “Well,” said the Pasha, “we have concluded to give it to you.”
Farman was pleased, but not elated. He had been promised the obelisk
several times—by the Khedive, by Nubar Pasha, and now by Cherif. Cherif was
an honorable man, but how long would he stay in power? Farman thought
quickly and suggested he should have something in writing. He also requested

that the obelisk be given directly to the City of New York, not to the United
States. Vanderbilt was paying for the obelisk’s transportation because it was
coming to New York. If it were given to the United States, Congress would have
to decide which city got it and there were guaranteed funds only for New York.
“We give you the obelisk, do as you wish with it.’ Cherif paused and then
added,
Write me a note, indicating what you wish to have done. State that all the
expenses of removal are to be paid by the United States or by the City of New
York, if you prefer. Hand the note to my Secretary-General, and tell him to
prepare an answer confirming the gift in accordance with the suggestions
you give, and bring it to me for my signature.
Farman jumped in his carriage, rushed back to the consulate, drafted the
letter, and two hours later handed it to the Secretary-General of the Department
of Foreign Affairs. He was afraid the Khedive and Cherif might be out of power
before he could get something in writing. The following day the letter was in
Cherif’s hands.
MR. FARMAN to CHERIF PACHA, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Cairo, May 17, 1879
EXCELLENCY: Referring to the different conversations that I have had

the honor to have with your Excellency, in which you informed me that the
government of His Highness the Khedive is disposed to present to the city
of New York, to be transported and erected there, the obelisk of Alexandria,
I should be pleased if your Excellency would have the kindness to definitely
confirm in writing the gift of this monument.
It is understood that its transportation is to be effected at the expense of
certain citizens of the said city of New York.
I beg to assure your Excellency, in advance of the warm thanks of my
government for having thus favorably responded to the representations
I have made to the government of His Highness the Khedive, in accordance
with the instructions that I had received on the subject.
I have every reason to hope that the monument, which is thus soon to
be transported and set up in the city of New York, will always be a souvenir
and a pledge of the friendship that has ever existed between the
government of the United States and that of His Highness the Khedive.
I beg your Excellency to accept the renewed assurance of my high

consideration.
E.E. FARMAN?
The next day Cherif’s reply, which had been drafted by Farman and put into
the jargon of Middle Eastern diplomacy by the secretary, arrived.
CHERIF PACHA, Minister of Foreign Affairs, to Mr. FARMAN

Cairo, May 18, 1879
Mr. AGENT AND CONSUL-GENERAL:I have taken cognizance of the

dispatch which you did me the honor of writing me on the 17th of the
current month of May.
In reply, I hasten to transmit you the assurance, Mr. Agent and Consul-
General, that the government of the Khedive, having taken into
consideration your representations and the desire which you have
expressed in the name of the government of the United States of America,
consents, in fact, to make a gift to the city of New York of the obelisk
known as Cleopatra’s Needle which is at Alexandria on the sea-shore.
The local authorities shall therefore be directed to deliver this obelisk to
the representative of the American government and also to facilitate, in
everything that shall depend upon them, the removal of the monument,
which, according to the terms of your dispatch, is to be done at the
exclusive cost and expense of the city of New York.
I am happy, Mr. Agent and Consul-General, to have to announce to you
this decision, which, while giving the great city an Egyptian monument, to
which is attached, as you know, a real archaeological interest, will also be, I
am as yourself convinced, another souvenir and another pledge of the
friendship that has constantly existed between the government of the
Unites States and that of the Khedive.
Be pleased to accept, Mr. Agent and Consul-General, the expression of
my high consideration.
CHERIF?
It was a done deal. New York would have its obelisk and take its rightful place
alongside the great cities of London and Paris. It was wise that Farman had
acted so quickly. France had been insisting that the Khedive resign and was
reluctantly seconded by England. Soon other European nations joined the call
for abdication. On June 27, just one month after Farman had secured the
The Oldest Skyscraper in New York We
obelisk, the Khedive resigned, and passed the throne to his son, Mehmet Tewfik
Pasha. Three days later, when the Khedive sailed into exile, Farman had in his
hand the letter giving the obelisk to New York, but now it was from a
government that no longer existed! Immediately foreign powers began putting
pressure on the new Ministry that was formed to negate the gift of the former
regime. The matter was debated twice and the Council of Ministers finally
decided that the gift held; a legitimate government had given it. New Yorkers
would have their obelisk; all they had to do was pick up the gift.
When Hurlbert was notified that the obelisk was indeed available, he
contacted Dixon to reaffirm that if Dixon would bring the obelisk to New York
he would be paid 15,000 pounds sterling. Dixon had just experienced his
difficulties in bringing London its obelisk and replied that the fee would have
to be raised to 20,000 pounds. When Hurlbert heard the fee was increased he
refused. He just didn’t do business that way. Now someone else had to be found
who could bring Cleopatra's Needle to the shores of New York.
The right man at the right time
The June 17, 1879 issue of The World carried the announcement that America
had been given an obelisk, funds were available for its transportation from
Egypt, and all that was needed was the man to do the job. Lieutenant
Commander Henry Honeychurch Gorringe was convinced he was that man.
At six feet tall with piercing blue eyes, Gorringe was impressive in his naval
uniform, but he did not have a particularly impressive beginning. His father
was an Anglican missionary posted to Barbados where Henry Honeychurch
Gorringe was born in 1841. Barbados in the 1840s was a sleepy island, but soon
the family moved to the even sleepier Tobago, where Henry, his older brother,
and two sisters grew up. Living on a small island, Henry grew up around boats
and sailing and was comfortable on the water. By the time he was fourteen he
had had enough of both education and Tobago and convinced his father to
arrange a position for him as a cabin boy on an acquaintance’s ship. Henry's
first voyage on the open sea was like something out of adventure novels,
involving a shipwreck on the way to India, being marooned in the Indian
Ocean, rescued and transported to Cuba, eventually arriving home at Tobago.
Rather than being discouraged, Henry was elated by his adventures and
committed to the life of a sailor. With little formal education, his intelligence
and drive served him well and by the time he was twenty-one he was offered
command of his own ship, but he chose to enter the United States Navy instead,
and when the Civil War broke out he served under Admiral Farragut, where he
was promoted three times for gallantry in action. By the time he was 26 he was
a Lieutenant Commander.
After the Civil War the United States began using its navy for nonmilitary
projects, mapping coastlines in what were called hydrographic surveys.
America wanted its own depth charts, maps of currents, and anything else that
would aid navigation and make commerce more profitable. Gorringe was
given command of the Gettysburg and was dispatched to the Levant to chart
coasts and current and sound depths. His navigator, Seaton Schroeder, a
lifelong friend, in his autobiography gives a rare first-hand assessment of
Gorringe’s personality.
Captain Gorringe and I had become great friends, and in later years we
became very intimate; he had such sterling qualities as to endear him to any
one who could pierce the crust of an unfortunate sensitiveness which
seemed at times to indicate a nature very foreign to what he really was....A
natural element in his character was the most absolute, unquestioning self-
confidence; never was it “Can this be done?” but only “How shall it be done?*
Self-confidence is one thing, but Gorringe seemed fearless. Once when he and
Schroeder were mapping rocks that might be navigational hazards off the
coast of Tripoli they were placed in a difficult position.
[A]n elderly sheik came to us and said that he understood what we wanted
and had no objection to it personally, but that he could not answer for his
young men, and must ask us to go; which we did. But after nightfall, there
being no moon, we pulled noiselessly ashore in a little boat with the
instruments and dark lantern and made some careful and satisfying
observations of stars within sound of the Arabs’ camp; then we stole back to
the ship without detection.®
Mapping the coast of the Levant allowed Gorringe to experience antiquity,

and he was enthralled. In Turkey he walked the site of ancient Troy, recently
discovered and excavated by Schliemann. In Egypt his first opportunity to
actually own a bit of antiquity presented itself when an Arab offered to sell him
a handful of ancient coins. Schroeder was present and comments that they
both agreed that the price was very high, but Gorringe was fascinated and paid
it.A year later Gorringe took the coins to the British Museum for authentication.
One was an extremely rare coin from the time when the Greek Ptolemies were
ruling Egypt; it sold at auction for twenty times what he had paid for the entire
lot. Like a novice gambler who wins at his first attempt at the slot machines,
Gorringe was hooked and collected ancient coins for the rest of his life.
When Gorringe read the announcement in The World asking for someone
to move New York's obelisk, he couldn't believe it. He and Schroeder had visited
the Alexandrian obelisks during their hydrographic survey days and had
thought about moving one to America. The obelisks were unappreciated, amid
the garbage of a squalid neighborhood. Some of the locals made money by
taking a sledgehammer to the obelisk to chip off souvenirs for tourists. Now
Gorringe could rescue the standing obelisk and bring it to New York, but he
had to submit a plan that would convince Hurlbert he could do it.
Gorringe began planning how he was going to move the obelisk. First he
studied the methods the French and English had used to transport their
Obelisks. The French didn’t have to navigate the Atlantic. Once the Luxor
reached Alexandria, it was a straight sail across the Mediterranean to Toulon
and this allowed the Luxor to be towed. Also, the Luxor had been specially
constructed to hold the obelisk and navigate the shallow Nile. Gorringe wasn't
going to construct a special ship for his obelisk. He would buy one inexpensively
and then reconfigure it for the obelisk.
The British also didn't have to cross the vastness of an open ocean far from
sheltered harbors when they towed their obelisk to England. Still, even with
their special vessel, the Cleopatra, constructed to house the obelisk, and no
vast, open seas, it was lost at sea. There was a limited amount of experience
Gorringe could glean from the two previous ships that had transported
Europe's obelisks. He had a far more daunting task ahead of him. Towing was
not an option for him. He had to sail America's obelisk across the Atlantic. He
would need a different plan, but he was sure of one thing: he needed a ship that
was self-powered and could navigate heavy seas with a 250-ton obelisk in its
hold. Up to this time, the largest object ever put in the hold of a ship was a 100-
ton cannon manufactured in England and shipped to Italy. To put the gun on
board special hydraulic cranes had to be constructed, and they cost a fortune—
more than the entire allotment Gorringe had to move the obelisk. Since super
cranes were out, it would not be possible to lift the obelisk onto the ship.
Gorringe planned to open the hull, slide the obelisk into the ship’s hold, and
then replace the planks that had been removed in opening the ship, a procedure
similar to what Lebas had done seventy years earlier at Luxor.
He would also have to move the obelisk over land, first from where it stood
in Alexandria to the transport ship and then from the ship when it docked in
New York to its final site in Central Park. As he searched previous attempts at
moving heavy weights over land, he found an earlier engineering feat that
would become his model, but it wasn't an obelisk that was moved. It was
something much heavier—the immense base for a statue of Peter the Great in
Russia. Now largely forgotten to history, it was a remarkable accomplishment
by a remarkable man.
Count Carburi moves the rock
‘The year was 1768 and the Czarina Catherine the Great was planning a statue
of Peter the Great to grace the new city of St. Petersburg he had created. The
statue was going to be a massive bronze of Peter on his horse galloping up a
steep craggy rock. Since the figure of Peter was going to be more than eleven
feet high, the base had to be huge. To make the statue and base even more
impressive, it was decided that the base should be a single stone.
The task of finding and transporting such a stone was entrusted to a
shadowy aristocrat going under the name of Chevalier de Lascari. Actually, he
was Count Carburi from Cephalonia in the Peloponnese. As a young man he
was involved in an altercation that ended in a death and he had to flee his
native land and change his name. Carburi must have earned a reputation for
engineering skills as he was entrusted with transporting the largest stone ever
moved in modern times.
A Russian peasant told Carburi about a rock in a swamp outside the village
of Lachta near the Gulf of Finland. Carburi found the rock overgrown with
moss but very impressive. By probing beneath it he estimated that it was
approximately 42 feet long, 27 feet wide and 21 feet high. Like the Egyptian
The Oldest Skyscraper in New York Vs
obelisks, it was granite, and because of its massive dimensions it weighed 600
tons, more than twice the weight of the obelisk Gorringe would be moving a
century later. Carburi returned to St. Petersburg to design the capstans that
would be used to haul the rock, and after testing various models concluded
none of them would be adequate. In the summer of 1768 he returned to the
mosquito-infested swamp to begin the first step of removing the stone, which
was stuck in 15 feet of muck.
He planned to use the seasons to his advantage. Carburi would move the
rock in winter, when the morass was frozen and he wouldn't be up to his neck
in mud. But there was plenty to be done before he could lift the rock out of the
swamp. The first task was to construct barracks in which 400 workmen would
live for the next six months. Once they settled in, they spent the summer and
fall preparing a road on which the rock could travel from the swamp to the
Neva River, where it would be transferred to a barge for its final journey to
Petersburg. The road was 120 feet wide; trees were felled, terrain was leveled,
and logistics planned. Throughout the summer, mosquitoes plagued the men
and several died of malaria. Count Carburi also contracted the disease, and
suffered from it for the rest of his life. Many years after he had moved the rock,
he mused that there was only one thing he would have done differently—he
would have drained the swamp and thus alleviated a great amount of suffering.
By March the road had been prepared and the swamp was now frozen
enough to raise the rock from it. A trench 100 feet wide and 15 feet deep was
cleared around the rock to create a working area so levers could be positioned
beneath it and workmen would have a place to stand. No one had ever seen the
underside of the rock and Carburi’s first task was to turn it over. Levers 65 feet
long and 18 inches thick had been brought but, because the swamp didn't
freeze completely, piles had to be driven into the marsh beneath the rock so the
levers would rest on something solid. While one end of the huge levers rested
on the piles, the long ends that protruded out of the swamp were attached to
the capstans that would provide the mechanical advantage to turn the boulder.
With thirty-two men working each capstan, Carburi rolled the rock over and
had his first look at the underside. It was fine.
To pull the rock out of the swamp he constructed a path made of alternating
layers of small fir trees and gravel extending from the swamp and onto the
prepared road. Twelve pulleys and four capstans were used and, with two
drummers posted on top of the rock to signal starting and stopping, the huge rock
was slowly winched out of the marsh onto level ground. Phase one was complete.
Carburi was now faced with the problem of moving the 600-ton rock over
uneven terrain. Something that large couldn't move on wheels. There was no
material strong enough for an axle, and wheels would collapse under such a
load. Carburi’s solution was to build a rail system in which metal balls could
roll—essentially giant ball bearings. Thus the rock could roll along relatively
friction free. As the rock advanced, the rail system behind was pulled up and
moved ahead of the rock.
With the rock on solid ground and sliding on metal balls, it moved easily
with only two capstans, each manned by thirty-two workers. When hills were
encountered, Carburi used six capstans, and the moving mountain proceeded
towards the Neva River. Even with the short Russian winter days of five hours
of light, the rock progressed between 100 yards and a quarter of a mile a day,
depending on the terrain. At the end of six weeks of hard work, it rested on the
banks of the Neva, ready for the next stage of its journey.
Carburi had designed a 180-foot barge to receive the rock. He filled the barge
with water and sunk it to the riverbed, making it easier to get the rock on board.
The side of the barge nearest the riverbank was removed and the stone loaded
by means of two capstans fixed on board a ship firmly anchored on the far side
of the barge. The side was then replaced and the men began pumping water out
of the barge, but as it began to rise, the deck bent because of the incredible
weight of the stone. Carburi added stones to the prow and stern of the ship to
equalize the weight, and the barge, heavy cargo and all, floated safely to the
surface. A boat was lashed to either side of the barge to stabilize it on its river
journey. For several days the inhabitants near the banks of the Neva were treated
to the extraordinary sight of a mountain of granite floating down their river!
When the barge reached St. Petersburg, piles were driven into the river to
support the barge on beam and stern as the granite statue base was hauled on
shore by the capstans. Once again, with its two drummers on top, the stone
began a land journey, this time to the site where the statue of Peter was to be
erected. On September 15, the anniversary of the coronation of Catherine the
Great, the stone passed the Empress’s palace and then continued its journey to
the site where the statue of Peter the Great on horseback (striding up Carburi’s
rock) now greets millions of tourists to St. Petersburg.
A man, a plan, an obelisk!
When Gorringe read of Carburi’s moving the rock on metal balls, he quickly
decided that he would use cannonballs for moving his obelisk when it was on
land. His plan was taking shape. He knew how he would move the obelisk on
land and he knew that he would have a self-propelled ship that could navigate
high seas with an obelisk in its hold. The last major part of his plan was how to
lower the obelisk from its pedestal in Alexandria.
For this, he designed a structure that looked like two mini-Eiffel towers
standing right next to the obelisk on opposite sides. An iron belt fitted around
the obelisk was bolted to clamps (trunnions) projecting from the miniature
towers. The obelisk would then be pivoted around its center of gravity until it
was parallel to the ground. Once in this position it would be lowered to the
ground by hydraulic jacks at both of its ends. All this ironwork would be
fabricated in the United States, shipped to Alexandria, and assembled there.
Once the obelisk was down, the equipment would be disassembled and brought
back to New York with the obelisk so it could be used to re-erect it in Central
Park. It was a well-thought-out plan based on years of experience; now
Gorringe just had to convince those in charge that it would work.
This wasn't the only plan submitted. Another came from the owner of a ship
that transported blocks of granite on its deck. The ship had never carried a
block larger than thirty tons, but the owner was confident. He presented a
photo of the obelisk, showing that it stood close to the water. “I will moor my
vessel here, lower the stone down on her deck, and then sail. When we reach
New York we will not be in any hurry to set it up, for we will cart it about the
country and make a good thing of it exhibiting it to the country folks.” Aside
from the PT, Barnum aspect, the plan’s defects were obvious to all. While
the obelisk is indeed close to the water, reefs and other navigational hazards
make it impossible to moor a ship within a mile of the coast. Further, the ship
to be used was only 400 tons and with a 230-ton obelisk on its deck it would
easily capsize in difficult seas. Perhaps most important was the fact that there
was no room on the deck for the 69-foot obelisk!
Another plan called for towing the obelisk all the way to New York, but after
the difficulties the British had towing their obelisk, no one was eager to try that
on the open sea. When Gorringe presented his plan, he had several things
a
EXPLANATION
ELEVATION OF OBELISK Bon Trunnions
The rods. es
ERY \
RAISED FROM PEDESTAL WITH MACHIN Be Steel heal»
INPOSITION FOR TURNING
F__ Wooden bed beams
erp G_ Masonry piers ,
rj
i | L_ Steef bolts for clamping trunnions
Figure 6.1 Plan for the mechanism for lifting and turning the obelisk. It was
manufactured by the Roebling Iron Works, who had just completed the Brooklyn
Bridge.
going for him. He was a decorated naval commander who had never failed in
any task that his government had given him. Those who had worked with him
had nothing but praise, and he exuded a calm, reassuring confidence. Aside
from his personal qualities, the plan impressed those who saw it as realistic
and well thought out and they quickly concluded he was up to the task. When
Vanderbilt was told of the plan and the man who would carry it out, he wrote
to Gorringe with his proposal.
New York, Aug. 4, 1879

Lieut. H. H. Gorringe, U.S. Navy
Dear Sir: I have learned that you have or can procure the facilities to
remove to the city of New York the obelisk now standing at Alexandria, in
Egypt, known as “Cleopatra’s Needle.”
As I desire that this obelisk may be secured for the city of New York, I
make you the following proposition: If you will take down and remove said
obelisk from its present position to this city, and place it on such site as
may be selected with my approval by the Commissioners of Parks, and
furnish and construct at your own expense on said site a foundation of
mason work and granite base of such form and dimensions as said
Commissioners and myself may approve, I will, on completion of the whole
work, pay to you seventy-five thousand dollars.
It is understood, however, that there is to be no liability on my part until
the obelisk shall be so received and placed in position in the city of New
York, and the same to be in as good condition as it now is. It is understood
further, that this agreement binds also my executors and administrators;
you to accept this proposition in writing on the receipt thereof, and agree
to execute the same, and complete the work fully in every respect within
one year from the date thereof.
Very truly yours,

W. H. Vanderbilt®
Gorringe had the job if he wanted it, but the terms were far from ideal. The
money he was being offered was considerably more than what Dixon had
asked for, but Gorringe would have far more responsibility. He would have to
finance the project on his own and would only be repaid when the obelisk was
safely erected in New York. He would have to procure a ship, move the obelisk,
and erect a proper pedestal, all using his own money. As a naval officer,
Gorringe didn't have the money for such a project, but he did have the
reputation for being fearless and completely reliable. If he said he could do it,
there were people who would back him. Lewis F. Whitin, an old New York
friend, was one such person. He put up the money, secured only by the belief
that his friend Henry Gorringe would succeed.
Full steam ahead
With his plan accepted and money in hand to execute it, Gorringe went full steam
ahead. He immediately contacted Seaton Schroeder, his former navigator, who
was now a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy, to see if he would help on the project.
Schroeder was delighted and the State Department arranged for Gorringe and
him to be given leaves of absence to bring America its obelisk. Gorringe then
contracted with John A. Roebling’s Sons to manufacture the iron parts for the
turning mechanism. Roebling had recently completed the Brooklyn Bridge and
clearly had the capability to produce large iron works. Though not of the magnitude
of the Brooklyn Bridge, there would be large parts, some weighing as much as
12,575 pounds. Frank Price was hired by Gorringe as foreman of ironworks to
oversee production, bring the parts to Alexandria, and assemble them.
As the turning mechanism was being forged, Gorringe attempted to charter
an American steamer suitable for bringing the obelisk across the Atlantic. None
was available. If America didn't have a ship, England would, so on August 24,
1879 he and Schroeder sailed for Liverpool on the Arizona. For two weeks the
two attempted to charter a British ship, but when owners heard what cargo the
ship would be transporting, and that the hull would be opened and then closed
to load the obelisk below deck, they asked exorbitant fees, as much as it should
have been to purchase the ship. Convinced that there were plenty of other ships
to be had, Gorringe sailed for Alexandria without a ship for his obelisk.
As soon as they arrived at Alexandria, the European community began its
opposition to the removal of the obelisk. Petitions were circulated for
signatures, angry editorials appeared in newspapers, and Gorringe was called
names as he walked through the streets. What Consul-General Farman had
encountered was now intensified as it became clear that these Americans were
serious about taking an obelisk. Gorringe thought it best to get the support of
the new Khedive, Ismail’s son Tewfik, so they took the train to Cairo for an
audience with His Highness.
The Khedive was gracious and welcoming and the men talked frankly about
the pressures that the European powers were putting on the Khedive. Tewfik was
concerned that if the obelisk were damaged while being removed it would be a
political disaster for him, but he was reassured when he heard Gorringe’s detailed
plan and by the calm manner in which it was presented. He would support the
‘The Oldest Skyscraper in New York 181
Americans and instructed his secretary to see that orders were given to the
Governor of Alexandria to formally hand over the obelisk to Gorringe and assist
him in every way possible. The order echoes all the tribulations that Farman had
experienced in his negotiations to obtain the obelisk.
TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE GOVERNOR OF ALEXANDRIA: In the
time of the ex-Khedive the Egyptian government gave Cleopatra's Needle, now
standing on the sea-shore of Alexandria to the United States of America, to be
erected in the city of New York. His Excellency Cherif Pacha, who was then
Minister of Foreign Affairs, communicated the fact to the United States
Consul-General in a dispatch dated May 18, 1879. An American officer having
been sent here to receive and remove said Cleopatra’s Needle, and His Highness
the Khedive having confirmed the gift by a decree, I hasten to instruct you to
deliver the monument immediately to the said officer, and to offer him the
same assistance for removing it from its site and embarking it as was offered at
the time of removing the other obelisk that was given to the English
government. All expenses will be paid by the officer of the United States.
(signed) MOUSTAPHA RAIZ, Minister of Foreign Affairs’
With the order in hand, Gorringe and Schroeder took the first train back to
Alexandria and went straight to the Governor's office. They knew the protests
would continue but wanted to be able to say: “Too late, the obelisk is now in the
possession of an officer of the United States.” The Governor immediately
transferred the obelisk to Gorringe and a week later they began clearing the
site. It soon became clear that opposition had not gone away; it had just taken
a new form.
As the men began to clear the site, an Italian appeared and claimed that the
land was his and they had no right to be on his property. The Italian didn't dispute
that America now owned the obelisk; he was merely pointing out that they
couldnt take it. Gorringe offered to lease the land, but the Italian refused. Gorringe
responded with a letter to the governor, a remarkable document showing
diplomacy and restraint while making it very clear that he would not back down.
ALEXANDRIA, Oct. 28, 1879
H.E. THE GOVERNOR OF ALEXANDRIA
SIR: I regret extremely that it has become once more necessary for me to have
recourse to your good-will and your duty to assist me in prosecuting the work
with which I am entrusted by the government of the United States. Yesterday,
having received authority from you,Iset some men to work to remove the
paving stones that surrounded the obelisk, the owner of the stones making no
objection whatever. Another individual arrived, however, and ordered the
work stopped. Arriving myself a few moments afterward, I learned that the
man claimed possession of the ground and would allow no one to work there.
He also added that if we persisted he would apply to the Italian Consul, whose
janissaries would be sent to eject us from the premises. Not recognizing his
right to interfere, but not wishing to bring about a disturbance, I went to see
the Italian Vice-Consul, accompanied by the Consul of the United States, to
ask for an explanation. He informed me that any Italian subject occupying a
property belonging to him had a right to his protection, and that he would
protect him, even by force of arms. I thought it strange that he should dare
prevent by main force what your Excellency had authorized me to do; but
before notifying my government that the Italian Vice-Consul had defied the
orders of the Egyptian government, and that I am thus stopped in the
execution of a work with which I am charged, I though it best to try to arrange
it amicably, so as not to trouble your Excellency. During the dispute on the
ground I had offered to the soi-disant proprietor to pay him a rent, just as
though it really belonged to him; but he refused point-blank to rent the
ground to me, and informed me through his lawyer that he would not permit
the operations for removing the obelisk. Nevertheless, I begged the Italian
vice-consul to try his best to settle the matter, and he promised to give me an
answer by four oclock this afternoon. If he does not succeed I shall be
compelled to telegraph my government that I have been forcibly ejected, and
that Egyptian authority has failed to protect me.
I beg your Excellency to so direct affairs as to enable me to begin operations,
because it is needless to say that if the matter should take official form between
the two governments the situation would only become more grave.
I am, sir, with great respect, your obedient servant,
(signed) HENRY H. GORRINGE, Lieutenant Commander, U.S. Navy.*
Soon after he received the letter, the Governor explained that the Italian's
claim to the land was far from clear, but court proceedings to settle the matter
could take years. Gorringe took matters into his own hands and informed the
Italian Consul-General that he would sue anyone attempting to hinder his
work for 15,000 pounds in damages. He then offered to lease the land and
added that the offer would expire at 4:00 p.m. that day. The offer was accepted.
Gorringe had cleared the first hurdle, but the race was far from over.
The perfect ship?
When Schroeder and Gorringe landed in Alexandria they began prowling the
port, looking for a suitable ship to purchase to transport the obelisk across the
Atlantic. They arrived at the perfect time. Because the Egyptian government
was bankrupt, it could not afford to maintain a fully active postal service and
had decommissioned several of its postal steamers. Gorringe spotted one, the
Dessoug, at dock and went on board to inspect it; the good news was that the
hull was in perfect condition and was just large enough to admit the obelisk
below deck. The bad news was that the engines and boilers were in poor
condition and Gorringe, who was accustomed to the United States Navy, was
shocked at how filthy the ship was and how badly it had been neglected. Still,
Schroeder could work on refitting the ship while Gorringe focused on the
obelisk itself, so they decided to make an immediate offer of 5,000 pounds
sterling for the ship, knowing that it would cost an equal amount to refit. It was
a low but fair offer and Gorringe knew there would be no other buyers for such
a ship.
The Assistant Postmaster-General replied that the 5,000-pound offer was
not serious enough to consider. This was followed by an offer from a shipbroker
to sell the Dessoug to him at some unnamed price. He was looking to be bought
off from bidding against Gorringe, but Gorringe refused to be held up. He
informed the Ministry in Cairo that his offer of 5,000 pounds would be
withdrawn at noon on December 3, 1879. He was convinced that the Egyptian
government should be delighted to have 5,000 pounds for a ship that would
otherwise rust to pieces at its mooring. In the meantime, the shipbroker had
made an unsecured offer to the Assistant Postmaster-General that was accepted
and now offered the ship to Gorringe for 6,000 pounds. Gorringe replied that
he would not buy the Dessoug from him at any price. When the broker heard
this, he backed out of the deal and the Assistant Postmaster-General quickly
notified Gorringe that he could have the ship for 5,100 pounds sterling. On
December 3 Gorringe transferred the funds. Soon after, he boarded the ship
with a representative of the Postal Service who lowered the Egyptian flag.
Gorringe quickly raised the American flag, making it clear to all who owned
the ship. As Schroeder began refitting the Dessoug, Gorringe turned his
attention to lowering the obelisk.
Scaffolding was erected around the obelisk so it could be sheathed in wood

planks to prevent damage during the transfer operations. The planks were held
together by iron barrel hoops, and attached to the top strap were several loops
through which cables could be run to control the obelisk as it was turned. At the
very top, a large American flag was flown, to emphasize who now owned the
obelisk. One hundred local workers, ranging in age from ten to seventy, were
hired to clear rubble and prepare the site. The middle-aged ones dug and filled
baskets while the older workers lifted the baskets onto the backs of the young,
who carried their loads to the sea and dumped them. It was a busy work area, but
Gorringe treated it a bit like an archaeological excavation; after all, it was an
ancient site. When fragments of bronze statues, ancient coins, scarabs, and amulets
turned up as the men dug, Gorringe gave bonuses to those who discovered such
objects and also sent men to the shore to search the beach for objects that might
have escaped detection, been dumped, and later washed ashore.
CK me
ee
Figure 6.2 Before lowering it, the obelisk was clad in wood to protect its surface.
While the turning mechanism was being manufactured in New Jersey,

Gorringe prepared the foundation on which it would rest. Two masonry
piers were constructed and then wooden derricks were erected to lift pieces
of the turning mechanism onto the piers for assembly. The prefabricated
turning mechanism, completed in early October, began its trip, accompanied
by Frank Price, the master of ironworks, on the steamer Nevada, which
arrived in Liverpool, England on October 19. There it was transshipped
to the Mariotis, which arrived in Alexandria, Egypt on November 11,
1879.
In all of Alexandria there was no truck or cart large enough to transport the
12,000-pound trunnions from the port and through the streets of the city to
the site where the obelisk stood. The best available cart was refitted and pulled
by Gorringe’s strongest workmen on a Sunday, when the streets were emptiest—
Alexandria's population was largely European and Christian. As the cart inched
its way through the streets, an American missionary denounced it as “the work
of the Devil,’ not only because it was the Sabbath, but also because he felt his
church could better use the money spent on the project. It seemed to Gorringe
as if he were being fired upon from all sides!
Once the prefabricated pieces were on the site, they were quickly assembled
on top of the masonry piers without the slightest difficulty. When the obelisk
was fixed to the trunnions it was supported by the turning mechanism. Now
the bronze crabs on which the obelisk rested could be cut free. By means of
turnbuckles and screws (much like the mechanism in an automobile jack) the
obelisk was raised straight up a few inches so it would clear the crabs that were
still attached to the pedestal. The crabs are an important source for figuring out
the obelisk’s history. Originally the obelisk stood at Heliopolis but was later
moved to Alexandria by the Emperor Augustus. When the obelisk was re-
erected on its pedestal, four bronze crabs were placed at the corners of the
bottom of the obelisk for stability. The crabs are inscribed with the details of
the obelisk’s re-erection. This is how we know not only that it was moved in the
eighth year of Augustus’s reign, but also that Barbarus was Prefect and Pontius
was the architect. In Gorringe’s time only two of the four crabs remained, and
they can be seen today in the Egyptian Wing of the Metropolitan Museum of
Art.’ Unfortunately almost all the visitors walk right by this wonderful bit of
history without noticing it.
Steel cables were run from both ends of the obelisk over the top of the
scaffolding and into the masonry piers to take some of the weight off as it
turned. Gorringe estimated that the cables supported only sixty of the obelisk’s
230 tons and was afraid that when the obelisk went horizontal it might break
under its own weight.
The obelisk turns
On December 4 Gorringe attempted to turn the obelisk by pulling on the cable

at its top but, as it began turning, an iron beam on the bottom bent slightly and
snagged on one of the crabs, so operations had to be suspended. European
engineers in Alexandria took this as a chance to oppose the project and claimed
the turning mechanism was not strong enough to support the obelisk. After all,
it had bent when hardly any stress was put on it. Letters appeared in the
newspapers stating that the Americans were going to damage a priceless
antiquity. Throughout the criticism, Gorringe retained his faith in the turning
mechanism and went forward. With great difficulty, similar to what Fontana
had experienced three hundred years earlier, he removed the bronze crabs
from the pedestal and on December 5, once again, attempted to turn the
obelisk.
The obelisk swung effortlessly but when it reached an angle of about twelve
degrees off vertical, Gorringe stopped the obelisk’s motion, tied the cables, and
left the 230-ton shaft of granite suspended overnight. He was making a
statement. The system was clearly strong enough to hold the obelisk. In spite of
his success, rumors were now circulating that there was going to be a
demonstration by the European community when Gorringe attempted to
bring the obelisk fully horizontal. These rumors reached Russian Rear Admiral
Aslambekoff, whose flagship, Minim, was anchored in the port. Happy to assist
Gorringe, a fellow naval officer, he disembarked a large force of his trained
seamen to prevent the demonstration. With this help, Gorringe now was ready
for the decisive moment. At 11:00 a.m. on December 6 he gave the order to his
men to pull on the cables to bring the obelisk horizontal. Surrounded by a
teeming crowd of Italians, Greeks, and Egyptians, the obelisk slowly and
silently moved towards horizontal. Then disaster struck; a creaking sound
Figure 6.3 When the obelisk was turned to the horizontal, a cable snapped and the
obelisk started moving past horizontal towards the ground. Gorringe had planned for
such a contingency and the pile of timbers stacked on the left stopped the obelisk’s
descent.
came from the turning mechanism followed by a loud snap. One of the cables
had separated. For a moment the obelisk’s movement stopped, but just for a
moment. Then it began moving again towards the horizontal, picking up speed
as it went. The obelisk was out of control. Spectators began running in all
directions, but Gorringe had planned for such a situation. He had stacked
timbers almost as high as the obelisk would have been when it was horizontal;
if the obelisk for any reason went past horizontal, continuing towards the
ground, the timbers would stop it. Indeed, as the obelisk went past the
horizontal, it crashed into the timbers, bounced up a few feet, moved downward
again, only far more slowly, and came safely to rest on the timbers. Once the
obelisk was safely horizontal, the Italians, Greeks, other Europeans, and
Egyptians all sent up a great cheer, as if they had never opposed the project!
Lowering the obelisk—four inches at a time
The obelisk now had to be lowered to the ground. Gorringe positioned a stack
of timber beneath its bottom end to match the one by the point that had saved
the obelisk. Now, with the obelisk resting on timbers, the turning mechanism
was dismantled to create more room to lower it. A notch was cut out of a beam
on top of each stack and a hydraulic jack was placed in each notch. The two
jacks were then raised a few inches so they supported the full weight of the
obelisk. This enabled the workers to remove the top layer of timbers and then
lower the obelisk onto the stacks again. This lowered the obelisk by four inches.
Then another two notches were cut in the timbers of what was the new top
level and the jacks were placed in them. When raised once again a few inches
to support the obelisk, the new top level of timbers was removed and once
again the jacks were lowered so the obelisk rested on the timbers. The obelisk
was now another four inches closer to the ground. Slowly and methodically
this cycle was repeated so that the obelisk was lowered about three feet each
EXPLANATION
SIDE ELEVATION = ~ bas eee
‘ ad S NE — Trennion plates
PREPARATIONS FOR RELEASING MACHINERY FE Pibor stacks.
ALEXANDRIA. Pa K _ COt0n hydrnalic jacks
T Fomcd
Figure 6.4 Once the obelisk was horizontal, it was lowered four inches at a time by
hydraulic jacks.
day. While it was being lowered another very difficult operation was being
conducted, one that Gorringe had not foreseen.
When Frank Price, the ironworks master, arrived in Alexandria with the
turning mechanism, he also brought cannonballs and the iron channels they
would roll in as the obelisk was transported through the streets of Alexandria.
Gorringe knew that the water at the coast where the obelisk stood was not
deep enough to bring a large ship close to shore and he had read about how
rocks just beneath the surface had ripped a hole in the caisson containing the
British obelisk. It would be far safer to move the New York obelisk one
mile over land to Alexandria’s port and load it on the ship there. As soon as
Gorringe arrived in Alexandria he asked the Governor for permission to
move the obelisk through the streets. The governor informed him that because
the Egyptian government was bankrupt, it could neither clean nor maintain
the streets, so it had given control of them to the European merchants in
exchange for their maintaining them. The merchants refused to give permission
to move the obelisk through the streets, claiming it might damage the
sewers. Undaunted, Gorringe created a new plan for getting the obelisk to
the port.
He realized that if he couldn't move the obelisk overland he would have to
float it through the same treacherous waters that had ripped a hole in England’s
iron caisson. He immediately hired professional divers to clear an underwater
route for the obelisk. Because of his interest in archaeology, Gorringe knew
that the bottom of the shore was believed to be littered with blocks from
Cleopatra’s lost palace. He built piers in the water, on which he positioned
lifting cranes. When the divers found blocks from the palace that were
navigational hazards, they were lifted out of the water and placed on shore.
Diving in Alexandria is not an easy matter, especially in winter, and in 1880
it was even more difficult. Currents are strong, visibility is poor, and bad
weather frequently makes diving impossible. For months, divers worked to
clear the shore so the obelisk could be safely loaded and floated to the port. As
the obelisk was slowly being lowered to the ground, they were still frantically
working to prepare the path it would eventually take to the port. As all this was
going on, Gorringe dismantled the masonry on which the turning mechanism
had stood and focused his attention to moving the fifty-ton pedestal on which
the obelisk had rested.
Aniron bar was inserted beneath the pedestal, and with the help of hydraulic
jacks it was raised off the three steps on which it rested. Iron channel rails with
rows of cannonballs were positioned near the elevated fifty-ton pedestal and it
was then lowered onto the rails. The channels and cannonballs formed giant
skids, like the ones used by supermarkets to transport crates of goods from
trucks being unloaded into the basements beneath stores. On these rails the
pedestal was slid off to the side with the greatest of ease, which must have been
a great relief for Gorringe. This was precisely the same method he was going to
use for transporting the obelisk, which was five times the weight of its pedestal.
A message from ancient Freemasons
With the pedestal out of the way, Gorringe began removing the three steps on
which it had rested. These steps were formed of several dozen large, rectangular
limestone blocks and four of granite that fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. When
the last step was removed, Gorringe made a surprising discovery that soon led
to his obsession with how the blocks were configured.
The foundation beneath the steps had been filled with several large
sandstone blocks and three of granite. Two of the granite blocks were polished
and the third was rough. One of the granite blocks was a perfect cube and next
to it was a limestone block on which rested a metal trowel and lead plumb bob.
Gorringe, a Freemason and member of Anglo-Saxon Lodge 137 Brooklyn,
New York concluded that he had found emblems of Freemasonry and
proceeded to remove the foundation blocks, carefully numbering and
recording their original positions. A committee from the Grand Lodge of
Egypt was then called in to inspect the stones. Their report would eventually
lead to one of the most incredible parades New York had ever seen.
The Committee, headed by Grand Master S. A. Zola, Sovereign Grand
Commander of the Supreme Council of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite,
Chief of Symbolic Masonry of Egypt, examined the blocks Brother Gorringe had
unearthed and concluded the blocks were indeed the handwork of fellow Masons.
The polished cube was the Masonic perfect ashlar; the rough block, the rough
ashlar. One of the blocks had two snakes carved on it that represented Wisdom.
The trowel and plummet were clearly Masonic, intentionally left behind, to be
found by brother Masons in the future. Gorringe immediately decided he must

bring it all back to New York for his brother Masons to wonder at. Neither the
French nor the English had brought their pedestals home. Gorringe’s agreement
with Vanderbilt said nothing about the pedestal, just the obelisk. Still, Gorringe
felt New York should also have the pedestal; it was the right thing to do.
With the pedestal and steps cleared and the obelisk nearly on the ground, a
caisson was built to receive the obelisk. The caisson was an 83-foot-long wood
box resembling a giant coffin. Once the obelisk was secured inside the caisson,
the plan was to launch it down a gangway that had been built right up to the
water. Divers had continued the gangway underwater for quite a distance to
protect the bottom of the caisson until it floated. The hope was that, with an
initial shove provided by the hydraulic jacks, the caisson, with obelisk inside,
would slide down the well-lubricated gangplank and into the water. Once afloat
it would be towed to the port, where it would be loaded into the Dessoug. On
March 18 they attempted to launch the caisson but it wouldn't slide and had to
be inched along by jacks. This process took nearly two weeks, and when the
obelisk finally reached the water, a gale stormed in. With the seaward end of the
caisson rising and falling in the turbulent water and the landward side stuck on
the gangway, Gorringe feared the obelisk might break in the storm, so he flooded
the caisson to add weight to stabilize it. The storm raged during the night but
subsided in the morning. The caisson was unharmed, the water was pumped
out, and at 10:00 a.m. on March 31 the caisson was towed to Alexandria's port.
A ship fit for an obelisk
While the obelisk was being lowered and the pedestal removed, Schroeder had
been overseeing refitting of the Dessoug, and it wasn‘ easy. First he strengthened
the interior of the hull with steel beams to distribute the weight of the obelisk
over the entire ship. Existing internal beams had to be cut out to make room
for the obelisk and bolt-holes drilled so they could be refitted once the obelisk
was inside. Thirty plates in the hull were removed as well as some above the
waterline. Much of this was done while the ship was moored, but eventually a
floating dock was required and there was only one large enough to accommodate
the Dessoug. The government officer in charge made Schroeder wait five weeks
before the Dessoug was permitted to use the dock, and time was running out.
A foreman shipwright from Glasgow was brought to Alexandria to oversee the
boiler and engine repairs and the final opening and closing of the hull. It was a
massive and time-consuming job that was done by three teams of thirty Arab
boilermakers who worked around the clock.
The obelisk was not the only heavy cargo the Dessoug had to be prepared to
receive. There was also the pedestal weighing in at fifty tons, and it proved to
be quite a problem. Bringing the pedestal to the port where the Dessoug was
waiting was relatively easy. A lighter was chartered that could be sailed to the
coast where the obelisk had stood. Following the path that had been taken by
the caisson, only in reverse, it went towards shore through the path cleared by
the divers and right onto the gangway that had been constructed. With the
lighter beached, Gorringe used hydraulic jacks to lift the pedestal, set it on
the lighter’s deck, and then launched it down the gangway with a push from
the jacks. The lighter then was towed to the port with ease, but Gorringe knew
that loading it on the Dessoug was going to be difficult.
A delicate balancing act
To keep the pedestal from shifting during the ocean voyage it had to be secured
to an iron frame that Schroeder had constructed. To get it onto the frame they
had to raise the pedestal thirty feet above the deck of the Dessoug and lower it
through a hatch. The problem was that the pedestal weighed fifty tons and the
largest crane in Alexandria could lift only thirty tons. Gorringe’s solution was
complex and involved considerable risk. In addition to the thirty-ton shore
crane, there was a floating steam-derrick that could lift twenty-five tons. If the
weight of the pedestal could be precisely distributed between the crane and the
derrick, the pedestal could be lifted above the Dessoug and placed in the hold.
If, however, something went wrong and the pedestal fell on the Dessoug, it
would destroy the ship and likely be lost forever at the bottom of the harbor.
Gorringe calculated how much water the derrick would displace when it
supported twenty-two tons—less than its twenty-five-ton capacity. A mark was
made on the derrick at the level it would sink into the water when it supported
twenty-two tons. That mark could not be permitted to go underwater or the
Figure 6.5 Hoisting and then lowering the fifty-ton base into the ship’s hold was a
very difficult maneuver involving two cranes working in tandem.
derrick might be supporting too much weight and collapse. By keeping the
mark right at water level (twenty-two tons) the shore crane would have to
support twenty-eight tons, just within its operating capacity. It was a delicate
balancing act and would require four steel cables, the derrick, and the crane all
working in tandem, but Gorringe was confident.
The lighter with the pedestal on deck was towed between the floating steam-
derrick and the shore crane, and four one-and-a-half-inch steel cables were
attached to the pedestal, to the crane, and the derrick. The signal to lift was
given and the crane and derrick began lifting in unison. Slowly the pedestal
rose off the deck of the lighter, which was then quickly towed out of the way,
and the pedestal was swung over the deck of the Dessoug. The water level of the
floating derrick was perfect and all was going well when a loud cracking was
heard and the pedestal began oscillating as it hung above the ship. If it fell, it
was the end of the Dessoug. Afraid that the pedestal might come crashing
down, the ship was maneuvered out from under the suspended block of
granite. Once there was nothing between the pedestal and the water, the cables
arose ke ay sir
a, Tie Obelis
Ss k’ in bryBeth
Copyright iti Wee, <2. Waitiag Shimment.
x SS 3 SOT
Figure 6.6 The obelisk in dry dock at Alexandria.
were carefully inspected. One had snapped, but the pedestal was still supported
by the other three. The lighter was quickly towed back beneath the pedestal,
which was safely lowered onto its deck. Disaster was averted but now Gorringe
was sure the plan would work; he just had to replace a cable.
The next day Gorringe and Schroeder replaced the broken cable with one
from the Dessoug and once again the pedestal was lifted off the lighter, and
swung above the ship. This time it was lowered through the hatch and into the
frame designed to hold it. The pedestal was the largest object ever maneuvered
onto a ship at Alexandria. Next up was the obelisk, weighing nearly five times
as much as its pedestal.
When the obelisk was towed to the port, it was brought onto the floating
dock and the caisson removed. There is a photo of the obelisk in the floating
dock that is a bit of a mystery. The obelisk has been taken out of its wood
cladding. Why? Shortly after the photo was taken, it was in its protective wood
casing again, awaiting the Dessoug to be positioned to receive it. Had something
happened to the obelisk and they were checking it?
cannonballs.
It had been calculated that the obelisk must enter the hold at a 21-degree
angle and it was placed at this angle on the dock and the Dessoug brought in. A
wood gangway was laid down from the bottom of the obelisk, entering the ship
first at the aperture and continuing into the hold. On this gangway carpenters
anchored the iron channels with their five-and-a-half-inch balls that would
form the skids on which the obelisk would slide into the ship. These skids
proved so efficient that the two hydraulic jacks that pushed the obelisk into the
hold never had to exert more than five tons of force.
When the obelisk was completely inside, the two hydraulic jacks were
repositioned to lift it a few inches so the channels and iron balls could be
removed. Once the obelisk was securely resting on its bed of soft wood, teams
of carpenters began wedging it in on all sides so it couldn't shift during the
voyage. As the carpenters worked inside, ironworkers replaced the plates
over the aperture. On June 1, 1880 the Dessoug, with its precious cargo stowed
in the hold, was almost ready to sail.
How to insure an obelisk
The blocks from the steps beneath the pedestal were stowed below decks and
secured as ballast, as were the parts to the turning mechanism. On June 8 the
Dessoug took on 500 tons of coal, twice the weight of the obelisk, but just
enough to get it as far as Gibraltar, where it would refuel. The last arrangement
was to organize the ship’s insurance and, like every other part of the project,
this proved to be a trial. The usual rate for insurance of a vessel was two percent
of its value, but when the underwriters heard about the obelisk as cargo, they
wanted twenty-five percent! Gorringe refused and by June 11 the rate was
down to five percent—better, but still more than twice the going rate. Gorringe
told his London agent to inform the underwriters that he would sail the next
day, without insurance, if the rate was not two percent. Offers of acceptance
came flooding in; the Dessoug was insured. The crew was another matter.
As soon as Gorringe and Schroeder purchased the ship they began
assembling a crew. The chief engineer was a Scotsman who had worked for the
Egyptian Postal Service. He knew the Dessoug well and oversaw the refitting of
the boilers and engines. The other officers were all British. The first and second
mates were alcoholics, with the second officer so drunk he fell overboard twice
before they ever left port and had to be fired for his own safety. Forty-eight of
the locals who signed on as crew deserted before the ship sailed and Gorringe’s
description of the quartermasters wasn’t encouraging: “They would do credit
to a pirate crew.”!° It was quite a group, but that was only one small part of the
difficulties Gorringe was facing.
Because of legal technicalities, the ship couldn't be registered as an American
vessel and Gorringe wasn't about to sail under the Egyptian flag, nor under the
flag of any European country. When the Dessoug finally entered international
waters, Lieutenant Commander Gorringe was commanding an unregistered
ship with no nationality displayed. This meant that any man-of-war could
seize it while at sea or in any country when in port. It was a risk that Gorringe
was willing to take.
At sea at last
Even with all the problems they faced, Schroeder and Gorringe felt a great
sense of relief as they watched the coast of Alexandria recede. They had
overcome great obstacles in Egypt and now were together again, in their
element, the open sea, and knew they could overcome any future hurdles. The
Dessoug behaved beautifully, only pitching and rolling slightly, like any other
merchant steamer. The problem they encountered was that the supposedly
refitted boilers leaked. When they put in at Gibraltar they stayed for three days,
to allow the boilers to cool so they could be properly repaired. This done, they
took on 500 tons of coal, enough to reach New York, and left at midnight on
June 25/6 in good weather.
On July 6 they were 1,500 miles from New York when a loud noise emanated
from the engine room, then the engines came to an abrupt stop. They had
broken a crankshaft. Fortunately there was a spare on board, and that was
due to Gorringe’s meticulous planning and perseverance. The ship’s purchase
included “all equipments and spare articles on board and in store that properly
belong to the Dessoug.’
An extra crankshaft for the Dessoug was in a government
warehouse but the officials repeatedly ignored Gorringe’s requests for it. Only
because he didn't give up was it delivered to the ship five days before they
sailed. It took six days to install the new crankshaft, but once again they were
steaming towards New York. On July 10 they got the biggest fright of the trip.
It was then that they encountered squalls, which should have been no
problem for the Dessoug, but Gorringe could see waterspouts forming in the
distance. Usually these spouts form and dissipate quickly, rarely reaching a
height of more than twenty feet. But here the crew watched in horror as a spout
formed directly in front of the ship and kept growing and growing till it was
fifty feet high. The weight of so much water could crush the deck of the Dessoug
if it landed, and it was heading straight for them. Normally ships fired a cannon
to dissipate a waterspout, but the Dessoug was unarmed. All they could do was
batten down the hatches and wait. For nearly five minutes the spout slowly
moved towards them and then, just as it was upon them, it turned and crashed
back into the sea. The gale blew for the next three days, but the ship behaved
beautifully and New York was straight ahead.
On July 19 they sighted New York and were met by the pilot-boat A.M.
Lawrence, No. 4. After anchoring overnight off Fire Island, they were escorted
to the Staten Island Quarantine Station where they were given a quick once
over and released. Then they steamed around the southern tip of Manhattan,
up the Hudson River, and docked at 23rd Street. Gorringe gave the officers
ae eS
Figure 6.8 The pedestal was pulled through Central Park in a specially designed
carriage by sixteen horses.
leave and opened the ship to visitors. The Dessoug and its ancient distinguished
passenger were a New York sensation, attracting more than 1,700 visitors in one
day. New Yorkers had been following the progress of the Dessoug in their
newspapers and, now that it was here, it was like a Broadway star. As New York’s
curious traipsed through to see the obelisk, Gorringe made plans for erecting it.
For logistical reasons, the pedestal and obelisk had to be disembarked at
different locations. The ship sailed north to 51st Street where a huge dock
crane lifted the pedestal out of the hold and swung it onto shore with the
greatest of ease—a marked contrast to the difficulties encountered loading it at
Alexandria. It was next loaded onto a truck wagon specially rebuilt to bear the
fifty-ton load. Pulled by sixteen pairs of horses, the pedestal started east on
51st Street towards Fifth Avenue. Several times along the way the procession
had to halt because the wheels of the truck sank into the soft pavement and
had to be freed. After reaching Fifth Avenue, it turned north and proceeded up
to 82nd Street where it entered Central Park. The park terrain was too uneven
for the wheeled vehicle, so the pedestal was placed on greased skids and hauled
to Greywacke Knoll, the site selected for the obelisk.
There had been some debate about where to place the obelisk. Some favored
prominent sites in the middle of the city, like Columbus Circle. However, there
were concerns that tall buildings would eventually be erected, obstructing the
view of the obelisk, so a park site was agreed upon. Greywacke Knoll, the park’s
highest point, near the city’s new Metropolitan Museum of Art, provided a solid
foundation and was selected. On August 5 Department of Parks workers began
preparing the site by removing young trees and leveling the surface, but a few
days later work stopped and didn't resume. The Department of Parks traditionally
prepared the sites for new monuments but, in Gorringe’s words, “In this case the
custom was violated.” Nothing as large as the obelisk had ever been erected in a
city park before and perhaps the Department of Parks just didn't want the
responsibility if anything went wrong. Gorringe offered to prepare the site at his
own expense and finally was given permission to proceed. Throughout
September the site was prepared, but a great deal more had to be done.
The Freemasons have their day
The ceremony for laying the foundation was be presided over by the Masons,
and thousands of members of various lodges and their officers participated.
On October 9, 1880, dressed in top hats, black coats and white gloves, 500
commanders of local Masonic lodges formed ranks on 15th Street, on the east
and west sides of Fifth Avenue. As they converged onto Fifth Avenue in the
cool October air, they marched north, six abreast with four-foot intervals
between ranks, resembling a giant, black millipede with white legs. When the
last row passed 16th Street they were joined by 500 more commanders
converging from 16th Street onto Fifth Avenue, lengthening the giant insect to
nearly a quarter of a mile. At 17th Street, members of the Brooklyn Masonic
lodges and lodges from Suffolk and Richmond Counties joined them, and so it
went, street after street adding to the flow up Fifth Avenue. At 21st Street they
added French, Italian, Spanish, and German-speaking lodges until more than
8,500 masons in military ranks filled Fifth Avenue. Bands preceded many
of the lodges, so the 30,000 spectators that lined the route were treated to
music as well as pageantry. It was the greatest congregation of Masons the
world had ever seen.
As the column marched north towards Central Park, three horse-drawn
carriages left the Grand Masonic Temple on 23rd Street and 9th Avenue. The
Figure 6.9 A gold and amethyst baton was crafted by the Freemasons to be used at
the installation ceremony for the obelisk’s pedestal. This detail shows the miniature
gold obelisk at its tip. Illustration courtesy of the Chancellor Robert R. Livingston
Masonic Library of Grand Lodge, New York, N.Y.
carriages contained the officers of the Grand Lodge and Supreme Grand Master
Jesse B. Anthony, who carried a baton of gold and amethyst specially crafted for
the occasion. It was a thing of beauty, with a gold obelisk decorated with
hieroglyphs just like the ones on the obelisk that Brother Gorringe, Anglo-Saxon
Lodge 137, had brought all the way from Egypt to New York. (You can still see it
today if you make an appointment at the Grand Masonic Lodge of New York.)
As the parade passed 23rd Street and the Masons marched by Madison
Square, towering above the landscape was an obelisk—not their obelisk, not
the one Brother Gorringe had brought to New York, but a different obelisk. The
51-foot obelisk they encountered on this bright fall day was pure American
Egyptomania. Carved of Massachusetts granite and erected in 1857, it honored
General William Jenkins Worth, hero of the War of 1812 and the Mexican-
American War, and Fourth Commandant of West Point Military Academy. It is
not a thing of beauty; the sculptor got it wrong. Although carved out of a single
piece of granite, there are no sleek unbroken lines emphasizing the obelisk’s
height. Four bands carved into the granite list significant battles from Worth’s
long career, but they make it seem as if the obelisk has been cobbled together
from several pieces, depriving it of its majesty. Still, the Masons could compare
their obelisk to Worth’s. Unencumbered by battle scenes, their obelisk had
something far better—mysterious ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, far more
appropriate for a Masonic monument.
At precisely 2:30 p.m. the column of marchers reached 33rd Street, halted,
and was met by carriages from the Grand Lodge. The officials and Past Masters
wore their jewels and white lambskin aprons, symbols of the Masonic trade. As
the Masons stood at attention the officers reviewed the ranks, nodded approval,
and the thousands continued their march up Fifth Avenue in the brilliant
sunlight.
As they neared 40th Street they had one last Egyptian encounter. They could
see it from several blocks away, massive and imposing—an Egyptian temple
complete with thirty-foot-high walls and even taller entrance pylons. The
Croton Reservoir had been built in “the Egyptian style” and when it went on
line on July 4, 1842, it was the pride of New York City. No longer would people
have to rely on rainwater caught in cisterns and barrels. Fresh, clean water
from the Croton River upstate flowed through two aqueducts to serve the
growing population. The reservoir remained operational until 1911 when it
was taken down, the land filled in, and New York’s famous 42nd Street Public
Library was erected on the site.
After passing the reservoir on their march north, houses and buildings
began to thin out. Northern Manhattan was still practically pastoral. The
Dakota Apartment building on 72nd Street had not yet been built, but when it
was, it was so far from the city’s center that the building was called“The Dakota”
because it was like living in the Dakota Territories.
At 82nd Street the column paused. By now it stretched more than a mile
back to 60th Street, where the ranks opened their center and faced inward,
permitting the Anglo-Saxon Lodge and Grand Lodge to march up the middle
to be the first to enter Central Park. As they entered the park, to their right was
the newly constructed Metropolitan Museum of Art, but they gave it hardly a
thought as they made their way to the site that Brother Gorringe had prepared
to receive them. A large elevated deck had been constructed for the Grand
Master, Grand Officers, Masters, and Wardens of the Lodges. Once they took
their places on the platform the other marchers closed ranks on the north, east,
and west sides of the platform. The grassy knoll on the south, left open for
visitors, quickly filled to capacity, swelling the crowd to more than 20,000.
In front of the crowd on Greywacke Knoll, the large limestone blocks of
differing sizes and shapes had been fitted back together like a jigsaw puzzle,
forming the steps that would support the obelisk’s pedestal. It was this unique
assemblage of blocks that had drawn the thousands of Freemasons to this spot.
Months earlier, and 8,000 miles away, in Alexandria, Egypt, Brother Gorringe
had noticed that the unusual arrangement of blocks suggested it was a Masonic
monument. Gorringe and other brother Masons concluded that twenty
centuries earlier brother Masons had prepared the obelisk base as a concealed
message for the future. Later that day they would be told they were wrong.
But now he and his brothers crowded around this Masonic marvel to fit its
last stone in place. The block was several inches smaller on all four sides than
the void that received it, and Gorringe had ideas how to fill it. His choices give
us a rare insight into his personality. Although he was now a celebrity, Gorringe
remains an enigma to this day. Who were his close friends? What was his house
like? What did he do in his spare time? We just don’t know, but we do know
that he intended to transform the base of the obelisk into a time capsule, and
we know what he wanted to put in it.
He asked the American Bible Society for copies of the Bible in various
languages. They told him where he could buy them, and he did! So we suspect
he was religious. He tried to get an example of that amazing new invention, the
telephone, but couldn't. That also shows us something about the man. My bet
is he was a techie. He asked the United States Coast Guard and Geodetic Survey
for samples of weights and measures. They refused, but he did have some
successes with other government agencies.
The Treasury Department contributed a set of medals of the United States

presidents and a proof set of 1880 coins. The Department of State gave a
facsimile of the Declaration of Independence, a Congressional Directory for
1880, and some other documents. The Navy supplied a silver medal given to
seamen and officers for Arctic exploration by Queen Victoria. All this hints at
Gorringe’s patriotism.
The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals provided some of
their literature, suggesting Gorringe may have been an animal lover. Gorringe’s
Anglo-Saxon Lodge 137 gave a complete set of silver emblems and jewels of
the Order of Freemasons. William Hurlbert, the editor of the World newspaper,
who had helped so much to bring the obelisk to New York, supplied the most
intriguing of the items placed in the time capsule. He “contributed a small box,
the contents of which is known only to himself, and a gold plate on which is
engraved the essential facts relating to the removal of the Alexandria obelisk to
New York?" But this wasn't all. Into the base went Webster’ Unabridged
Dictionary, the works of Shakespeare, a New York City Directory and map, an
Encyclopedia of Mechanics and Engineering, and even a hydraulic jack like the
two that had lowered and moved the obelisk in Alexandria. The base was a
compendium of knowledge deemed important for future generations.
The assembly bowed their heads as the Chaplain of the Grand Lodge said a
brief prayer. Grand Master Jesse B. Anthony, Master of New York State’s Grand
Lodge in Troy, New York stepped forward. With a silver trowel he spread a thin
layer of mortar on the three-foot limestone cube that was the final block and
dropped a dab of mortar into the open central hole into which the block was
to be lowered. Grand Master Anthony next took a wooden square, another
Masonic symbol, and examined the corners of the stone and found them true.
Stepping back, he was replaced by Acting Grand Senior Warden Edward H.
Simmons, who tested the foundation blocks with a level. The Grand Junior
Mason assessed the cornerstone with a plumb, and Grand Master Anthony
returned to solemnly declare the stone fit to be installed. A small derrick slowly
lifted the block, swung it over the hole and lowered it into place.
Grand Mason Anthony stood before the stone, now in place, and said, “T,
Jesse B. Anthony, Grand Master of Masons of the State of New York, do find
this stone plumb, level, and square, well formed, true and trusty, and duly laid”’
Deputy Grand Master Taylor placed a handful of grain, the emblem of plenty,
on the stone. The Grand Senior Warden poured wine on the stone to symbolize
joy, and the Junior Warden poured oil, representing peace.
Lieutenant Commander Gorringe, the man whose heroic efforts had
brought them all to this spot, was formally presented to the Grand Master, who
declared, “In the name of the Grand Lodge of the State of New York I now
proclaim the cornerstone of this obelisk, known as Cleopatra's Needle, duly
laid in ample form.” He then repeated these words on the south, west, and east
sides of the stone. When this was done, 8,500 Masons clapped in unison three
times and the voices of 20,000 people rose in one great cheer. Cleopatra's
Needle had been officially welcomed to New York.
It was now 5:00 p.m. and the sun was just beginning to cross the Hudson
River to the west, a half-mile from the gathering. Grand Master Anthony
stepped forward to formally address the crowd. His speech was a bombshell. It
began by praising the ancient Egyptian builders for their skill and insight. OK
so far. Then Master Anthony launched into a discussion of the Great Pyramid
and how a record of past history had been coded into the measurements of the
pyramid’s blocks and passageways. If one measured carefully, perhaps one
could use the pyramid to predict the future. This was a theory recently put
forward by Charles Piazzi Smyth, Scotland’s Astronomer Royal,!* who was a
fine astronomer but a bit of a new-ager when it came to the Great Pyramid. He
had surveyed the pyramid and declared it to be a repository of ancient wisdom
inspired by God. Soon he would be labeled a “pyramidiot” by scientists and
archaeologists, but when Master Anthony gave his speech, there were still
plenty of people who believed the theory. So the references to coded messages
and prophecies were nothing shocking. Then, towards the end, came his real
message.
Referring to the committee of Alexandrian Masons who declared the base
had been built by fellow Freemasons, Master Anthony mentioned that many
people believed there were Freemasons in ancient Egypt. Well, they were
wrong. He explained that, indeed, modern Freemasons shared many principles
in common with the ancient Egyptian builders, but when one looked at the
history of Freemasonry, it simply didn’t go back that far. There were no
Freemasons in ancient Egypt!
It was a carefully reasoned, thoughtful presentation with a clear conclusion:
Fellow Masons did not build the monument they were now inaugurating.
There is no record of the reaction of Commander Gorringe, or his fellow

Masons. Were they shocked? Disappointed? We just don't know. All indications
are that they were thrilled to be conducting the ceremony and delighted to be
part of such a historic event. Besides, it wasn't over; this was just the base. There
was still plenty to do before the obelisk could be erected.
On the following day, the fifty-ton pedestal was lifted into place on top of
the three steps, to await the obelisk’s arrival. It would take another three
months. Well before Gorringe reached New York he had planned how to off-
load the obelisk from the hull of the Dessoug. The ship would go into dry dock
and then he would reverse the loading procedure: Remove all the wood struts
that held it in place, jack it up a few inches with the hydraulic jacks so the
channel irons and iron balls could be slipped under the obelisk, and then haul
it out of the reopened aperture in the hull. As soon as he arrived in New York,
Gorringe set out to find the right dry dock. Unfortunately there was only one
that was suitable, and once its owner heard about the obelisk, he saw dollar
signs and asked an exorbitant rate. Gorringe had seen this several times before,
most recently with the insurance brokers who wanted to rob him when they
heard about the Dessoug’s cargo. Gorringe offered the going rate, but the owner,
knowing he had the only dry dock for off-loading the obelisk, refused to budge.
Gorringe walked out. Now he needed a new plan for off-loading the obelisk.
His first thought was to take the Dessoug to either Baltimore or Philadelphia,
use their dry docks, disembark the obelisk and then tow it to New York via canals.
But as he ran the details through his mind he saw the flaw in this plan. The
Dessoug was unregistered and could be seized. New York City was happy to be
getting an obelisk and he had connections there. Who knew what Baltimore or
Philadelphia might do? No, the obelisk had to be off-loaded in New York. There
was an alternative to a dry dock—a marine railway at Staten Island.
How to float an obelisk
A marine railway is basically a cradle on pilings next to a shoreline. A ship is

sailed into the cradle and the cradle lifted above the high-tide level so the ship
can be worked on and repaired. The problem is that marine railways are not
usually used for unloading large objects; Gorringe had to figure out how to
make it work. It would take a great deal of skill to execute, but he had a plan.
The obelisk had gone into the Dessoug’s hull at an angle of 21 degrees and it
would have to come out at that angle. Gorringe sank pilings into the water and
built what looked like a boardwalk right next to the marine railway, at a
21-degree angle. When the obelisk exited the hull, it would go onto the
boardwalk. After two weeks, everything was ready. The hull was opened, iron
railings and balls were placed under the obelisk, and fifty minutes after a
hydraulic jack began tugging on the obelisk it was resting safely on the
boardwalk. Then came the hard part.
The obelisk was resting safely on its pier but the 230-ton monolith still had
to be lifted onto some sort of barge that could be towed to Manhattan, and the
question was how to lift it when no cranes were available. Gorringe’s solution
was as brilliant as it was simple: Let the tide lift it. He had designed the pilings
of the pier so that two pontoons could be brought under the pier and thus
under the obelisk. When the tide came in, the pontoons rose, lifting the pier’s
crossbeams with the obelisk on them. It was ingenious and it worked perfectly.
The two pontoons were towed free of the pier and lashed together to form a
kind of catamaran with the obelisk fixed to the deck. The plan was to tow it
twelve miles around the southern tip of Manhattan, up the Hudson River to
96th Street, where a landing stage had been prepared to receive the obelisk. The
journey to the west side of Manhattan was delayed a day because of bad
weather, but at 5:00 p.m. on September 6 the obelisk began moving slowly
towards its new home. All along the way boats tooted their steam whistles,
welcoming New York's newest and most celebrated resident.
Ninety-sixth Street was just about the only place on the Hudson where the
obelisk could have been off-loaded. All along the Hudson River cliffs line the
shore with the only break at 96th Street. The obelisk reached the loading stage
at 7:15 p.m., during high tide, just as planned. The pontoons were floated
between pilings that had been sunk into the water so that the crossbeams on
which the obelisk rested almost formed a boardwalk, like the one at Staten
Island; but because of high tide they were floating a few feet above the pilings.
As planned, valves in the pontoons were opened to fill them with water. As the
pontoons sank lower in the water, the crossbeams and obelisk settled on the
pilings. The obelisk had now officially landed on Manhattan Island and was
about to begin its remarkable journey to Central Park.
The long journey to Central Park
Gorringe had already planned the route the obelisk would take to the park and
knew the first few hundred feet were the most difficult. The Hudson River
Railway ran along the riverside, so its tracks were between the obelisk, as it lay on
the boardwalk, and 96th Street, where the obelisk would begin wending its way
through the New York City streets. The obelisk would first have to cross the
railroad tracks along the Hudson River, where trains packed with commuters
ran frequently. Somehow Gorringe had to move the huge obelisk across the
tracks quickly. He had a team of workers lay timbers from the boardwalk across
the tracks and onto 96th Street. On this he would lay the iron channels that held
the cannonballs on which the obelisk would roll. The wood pathway was
designed so it could rapidly be taken apart and reassembled. For days the workers
practiced putting it together and taking it apart till they knew every timber and
its place intimately. Finally, on September 25, it was show time.
Fortunately Vanderbilt, who was paying to move the obelisk, also owned the
railroad. His officials were instructed to stop all incoming trains at 11:00 a.m.
and, soon after, the workmen skillfully assembled the wood path, laid the iron
channels on top of it, and attached the obelisk by an enormous iron chain to
one of the pile driver engines that had been repositioned to pull the obelisk
Figure 6.10 The obelisk was off-loaded from the Hudson River at 96th Street, where
it was hauled across the railroad tracks.
over the tracks. The men had been so well prepared that the entire operation,
including disassembling the iron channels and wood path, took only one hour
and twenty minutes. No passenger train was delayed, and only one freight train
had to wait for twenty-five minutes. This was the last time the iron channels
and cannonballs would be used. Under the extended pressure the channels
split in two and for the two-mile journey to Central Park something even
stronger was necessary.
Gorringe adapted something he had seen when the Dessoug was at the
marine railway in Staten Island. The obelisk would sit in a steel cradle with
rollers attached underneath and a pile driver engine would winch the cradle
containing the obelisk. Tracks were laid along the first leg of the obelisk’s
journey, from 96th Street to West Boulevard, today’s West End Avenue. There
was a sixty-foot climb from 96th Street by the Hudson River to West Boulevard
and even the best of engines can't pull heavy loads up steep grades, so skilled
men were put to work laying tracks so that the grade would be as gentle as
possible. Holes were drilled into boulders, permitting cables to anchor the
tracks and stabilize the mini-railroad. This difficult piece of engineering
required considerable precision and it took over a month for the obelisk to
travel its first quarter-mile to West Boulevard, but the system was working.
Now the difficulty was going to be turns.
Turning something as large as an obelisk is not easy. The plan was to use
hydraulic jacks to lift the bottom end of the obelisk a few inches, push it
sideways and then repeat the maneuver as many times as necessary. By the
time the obelisk was finally pointed south on West Boulevard, six days and
nights of constant labor had passed and there were eleven more turns ahead.
This would not do.
As the obelisk slowly moved south towards its next turn at 86th Street,
Gorringe began designing and then creating a turning mechanism that was
basically a giant lazy Susan. Concentric circles of iron channels held the old
familiar cannonballs. A hydraulic jack attached to the system could push the
end of the obelisk around, making turns far quicker than before; at least that
was the hope. It took the obelisk six days to reach 86th Street and by that time
the new turning mechanism was in place. It had taken twenty-two hours to
position the concentric circles and cannonballs but only four hours to turn the
obelisk, a great improvement. Since the turning mechanism could be laid prior
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Figure 6.11 Newspapers and magazines fanned interest in the obelisk’s journey.
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GLEOPATRAS NEEDLE
Figure 6.12 To capitalize on interest in the obelisk, tradesmen gave out souvenir
cards to customers.
to the obelisk’s arrival, turns would hardly slow the obelisk’s progress towards
its pedestal in Central Park.
All of New York read about or came out to see the progress of the huge
monolith through the city’s streets. As it slowly made its way towards its
pedestal, everyone was caught up in the event. Storeowners gave out trade
cards with pictures of the obelisk. Since the obelisk was called “Cleopatra's
Needle,’ it was a natural for sewing stores to capitalize on the obelisk’s fame.
Many created wonderful images of the obelisk being used in conjunction with
their products. Some showed the obelisk being towed or raised with thread
while others showed Cleopatra herself threading a needle produced by John
English & Co. It was all very exciting.
The obelisk proceeded east towards Central Park and at Eighth Avenue, 86th
Street became Transverse Road No.3, cutting through the park. Steep grades
and difficult terrain meant the obelisk couldn't go in a straight line, directly to
its pedestal, but rather had to go all the way east thorough the park via the
Transverse Road to Fifth Avenue. Even with the longer gentler route, the trip
across Central Park became a battle with the forces of nature. The progress
across Central Park slowed as a bitter December cold wave hit New York and
heavy snows fell for days. Soon members of Gorringe’s handpicked team began
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Figure 6.13 One merchant's card showed Cleopatra threading her needle.
dropping out, victims of exposure to the elements. Gorringe formed those that
remained into two teams that worked round the clock, replacing each other at
6:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. Each day the foreman was asked to estimate a reasonable
distance that could be covered; if the men exceeded it, they were paid bonuses.
To encourage his crews and show solidarity, Gorringe spent six hours with each
day crew and five with the evening crews. He was a man who knew how to lead,
and his men willingly followed. After nineteen brutal days exposed to the
elements, the obelisk had completed the half-mile journey across the park and
turned south on Fifth Avenue. The goal was almost within sight.
Figure 6.14 When the obelisk entered Central Park, a trestle was built so the obelisk
would be high enough to be lowered onto its base. Just as the trestle was completed, a
blizzard struck in December, suspending operations for several days.
It was a short gentle downhill to 82nd Street, where the obelisk was to
re-enter the park. The final leg of the journey through the park to the pedestal
was just eight hundred and ninety feet, but required tremendous advance
preparation. The obelisk had to be lowered onto the pedestal that rested on the
highest point in Central Park. This meant that it had to gain about fifty feet of
elevation. Knowing this, in October Gorringe began constructing a railroad
trestle from Fifth Avenue to the final site of the obelisk. Thus as one team of
Gorringe’s workers was fighting the elements, hauling the obelisk through the
Park in November and December, another team was building a massive trestle
out of timbers as thick as seventeen inches. On December 28, just as the obelisk
was to begin its journey on the trestle, a blizzard hit New York and all work was
suspended for several days. When the snows finally let up, the obelisk continued
its odyssey, arriving at Greywacke Knoll on January 5, 1881. The obelisk was
stopped when its center of gravity was directly above the pedestal. Now all that
remained was to turn it vertical and lower it.
Erecting the obelisk
Gorringe had previously prepared the masonry base on which the Alexandria
turning mechanism now rested. Using seven hydraulic jacks, the obelisk
was raised out of its cradle to a position above the trestle, permitting it to be
clamped to the turning mechanism at its center of gravity. Now the long
process of dismantling the trestle began and on January 15 the obelisk,
supported solely by the turning mechanism, was swung slightly to the right
and then slightly to the left to give the system its first test. All looked good. The
obelisk was to be set on its pedestal at noon on January 22. By January 20
almost all the trestle had been taken apart and that evening, near midnight,
Gorringe and a small team of trusted workers quietly entered Central Park
where, in the frigid cold, under the light of a quarter moon, the obelisk floated,
suspended horizontally over its pedestal. Gorringe wanted a secret test before
the public turning. The team stealthily went to work. Several workers pulled on
the cables attached to the obelisk’s base while others gave slack to the cables at
the tip and, as planned, the obelisk began to pivot on its center of gravity,
silently coming to rest in a vertical position above the pedestal.
The next day another violent storm tore through New York, causing
extensive damage throughout the city, but the obelisk remained unmoved,
suspended high above its pedestal. Throughout the morning of the 22nd New
Yorkers filed into Central Park, seeking good vantage points to see the obelisk
erected. The park was covered in snow with punishing winds blowing, but by
11:30 a.m. there were more than ten thousand people crowding the site. A
grandstand had been built for dignitaries and a little before noon a Marine
Band marched into the park and took its place beside it. Soon after, the carriages
of William Evarts, the Secretary of State, of William Hurlbert, the editor of the
New York World, and others pulled up to the grandstand. The officials descended
and took their seats in the stands.
A signal had been arranged with the workmen so that when Gorringe raised
his hand they would begin working the cables to turn the obelisk and would
continue turning till he put his hand down. With no fanfare—it was bitter
cold—Gorringe raised his hand and, as an unnatural silence fell over the
crowd, the massive shaft of granite began to move effortlessly. When the obelisk
reached 45 degrees, he lowered his hand to allow the well-known photographer,
Figure 6.15 When the obelisk was at 45 degrees Gorringe halted the turning so a
photograph could be taken, preserving the moment. This artotype is based on the
photograph.
Edward Bierstadt, to record the moment and, after a very brief pause for the
photo, the obelisk continued turning. This broke the spell of silence and, much
like for the New Year's Eve ball descending in Times Square, the crowd began
cheering until the obelisk was perfectly vertical above its pedestal. The turning
The Oldest Skyscraper in New York OMe
and photography had taken only five minutes and at its completion the military
band played patriotic tunes. With the obelisk successfully turned, the crowd,
eager to get out of the cold, quickly dispersed, but they didn’t go away empty-
handed. Gorringe had thoughtfully printed five thousand souvenir cards with
a photo of the obelisk in Alexandria on one side and on the reverse the
announcement that he would place it on its pedestal in Central Park at noon
on January 22, 1881. As everyone happily headed indoors, Gorringe still had a
long, cold day of work ahead of him.
The obelisk was vertical, but was not resting on the pedestal and still had to
be lowered onto it. Gorringe’s method of seating the obelisk on its pedestal was
the third technique that the obelisk had experienced in its three-thousand-
year history. In the time of Tuthmosis III, when it was carved and erected in
Heliopolis, the Egyptian masons placed it directly on its pedestal with no
support other than gravity. The obelisk was so precisely crafted that it could
balance. Fifteen hundred years later, when the Romans moved the obelisk to
Alexandria, they felt they had to anchor it somehow to its base. They crafted
four bronze crabs with poles protruding from their bodies that slipped into
slots cut in the pedestal and the bottom of the obelisk. We do not know why
they chose this method, but a clue may be the corners of the obelisk, or, more
accurately, the lack of corners. The four corners at the bottom are missing,
broken in antiquity, we know not how. Perhaps the Romans, in lowering the
obelisk from its pedestal, damaged the corners; we can't be sure. What is certain
is that the bottom of the obelisk now has only about two-thirds of its original
surface area. The Romans may have been afraid that this reduced surface area
was not enough for the obelisk to safely balance on and thus they added the
extra support of the crabs. This second method gave the obelisk a slightly
different look because it now rested on the crabs, not the pedestal, with space
between the pedestal and the bottom of the obelisk. This is how the obelisk
stood for nearly two thousand years till it was once again moved, this time to
Central Park. With the crowd now dispersed, Gorringe began to implement yet
a third method of placing the obelisk on its base, a combination of the ancient
Egyptian and Roman methods.
The plan was to spread a thin layer of cement on the pedestal and then
lower the obelisk onto it by using the turning mechanism. Cement, however,
doesn’t pour in cold weather and the team of workers had to repeatedly heat
Figure 6.16 The obelisk in 1882, resting on the four modern crabs.
the surface and spread the cement before one pour finally set. It wasn’t till 8:00
p.m. that night that the obelisk was finally balancing on its pedestal, looking
much as it had in ancient Egyptian times. Over the next ten days the turning
machinery was dismantled and the various workshops on the site were
removed, but completing the process of fixing the obelisk to the pedestal would
take ten more days of hard work. To ensure the stability of the obelisk, Gorringe
also wanted to use the Roman method of bronze crabs. Over the previous
months, craftsmen at the Brooklyn Navy Yard had made plaster casts of the
broken Roman crabs, carved the missing parts, and cast four replica crabs in
bronze weighing more than 900 pounds each. Working in the bitter cold of
Central Park, it took Gorringe’s workers more than a week to install the crabs
at the corners of the obelisk, but in the end the New York obelisk rested directly
on its pedestal, anchored by the crabs. Gorringe calculated that it would take a
wind exerting a force of 78 tons at the obelisk’s center of gravity to topple it,
whereas the maximum generated by a hurricane is about 15 tons. Finally
Gorringe could relax; his job was done.
The official ceremony to welcome the obelisk to New York was held on
February 22 in the Grand Reception Gallery of the newly built Metropolitan
Museum of Art. The event was by invitation only, but by 2:00 p.m. more than
twenty thousand people crowded around the museum, wanting to be part
of the festive occasion. Park police were called upon to clear a path up the
museum's steps for those with invitations. The remaining twenty thousand
joyously gathered around the obelisk for a kind of nineteenth-century
Woodstock, looking up and marveling at Cleopatra's Needle.
Inside, Secretary of State Evarts began the proceedings from a platform on
which sixty distinguished guests were seated. He thanked the Khedive for his
generous gift and William Vanderbilt for paying to bring the obelisk to New
York. Secretary Evarts pointed out that New York's obelisk, unlike France's or
England’s, was not a trophy of war. He also mentioned Consul E. E. Farman’s
brilliant and persistent negotiations for the obelisk that made it all possible.
Evart’s praise for Gorringe was lavish and extensive, chronicling the journey
of the obelisk and all the difficulties that had to be overcome. At the end
he summed it up perfectly: “Whatever Lieutenant Commander Gorringe
undertakes to do he will accomplish.” When Evarts completed his remarks,
Mayor William Russell Grace came forward to receive the obelisk on behalf of
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Figure 6.17 The medal given to 100 schoolboys to commemorate the obelisk’s
installation.
the City of New York. He was followed by Mr. A. S. Sullivan, representing the
American Numismatic and Archaeological Society of New York. The Society
had struck a commemorative medal for the occasion showing the obelisk and
seals of New York and the United States on the front. Surrounding the obelisk
and seals is a Latin motto stating: “Let the future learn from the past.” The front
of the medal is a bit busy, but nothing compared to the reverse, which reads
like a billboard: “Presented to the United States by Ismail, Khedive of Egypt”
(not quite right; the obelisk was presented to the City of New York); “Removed
to New York through the liberality of W. H. Vanderbilt, and the skill of Lieu.
Cm. H. H. Gorringe U.S.N’’ Aside from thanking everyone, the medal’s reverse
also presents a brief history of the obelisk: “Quarried at Syene and Erected at
Heliopolis by Tothme—Re-Erected at Alexandria Under Augustus.’ Quite a bit

of text for a medal smaller than a silver dollar. Silver copies of the medal were
presented to Gorringe and Vanderbilt in beautifully crafted wood boxes. In
addition, one hundred aluminum copies were to be presented to schoolboys
(yes, no girls) who were selected to attend the event. It was intended to have
them come up to the platform but the room was so packed that no one could
move, so the medals were given to a teacher to distribute later. After the
ceremony, everyone strolled out into the cold to look at the obelisk standing
tall behind the Metropolitan Museum. Gorringe could be proud of what he
had accomplished, overcoming seemingly endless obstacles to bring New York
its obelisk.
He did not live very long to enjoy his marvelous accomplishment. A few
years after placing Cleopatra's Needle on its pedestal, he tripped while boarding
a moving train, hit his head, and died from his injuries at the age of 45. He was
buried in a private ceremony attended by his mother and sister Blanche at
Figure 6.18 On October 12, 1886 a special train brought Gorringe’ friends and
family to Rockland Cemetery, where the obelisk above his grave was unveiled.
Rockland Cemetery, just twenty miles from the obelisk he erected. Friends
donated $2,500 to erect a suitable marker above his grave, and on October 12,
1886 a special train brought friends and admirers to the dedication. The
marker, a beautiful thirty-foot Vermont granite obelisk, is a miniature of the
one he worked so hard to bring to Central Park. One face of the pedestal bears
a bronze portrait of Gorringe; another side shows the turning mechanism he
designed. On the north face is the eulogy:
By his courage, skill, and patriotism in the naval

service of his adopted country in her time of need,
he rose to distinguished rank.
His crowning work was the removal of Cleopatra’s

Needle from Egypt to the United States—a feat of
engineering without parallel.
Brave, tender, and true, he passed away lamented

by those who knew his worth, whose loving hands
have raised this obelisk to his memory.
Postscript on the Obelisks
It is more than 130 years since the last obelisk left Egypt and we now have some
perspective on the achievements of those who moved these monoliths.
Surprisingly, it seems that as technology advanced, moving obelisks became
more difficult. For the Romans, who moved dozens of them, it was an event
almost not worthy of mentioning, so they have left us no real records of how they
erected those taken to Rome. Fifteen hundred years later, when Fontana moved
the Vatican obelisk, it was one of the engineering triumphs of the Renaissance.
When we fast-forward to the nineteenth century and the transportation of the
Paris, London, and New York obelisks, the achievement and drama seem even
greater. This only increases my admiration for the ancient Egyptian engineers
who erected dozens and dozens of obelisks with just rope, wood, and sand.
Today it is unimaginable that Egypt would permit more obelisks to be
lowered from their pedestals and sent to foreign shores. The political and social
climate has changed since the days when the Khedive of Egypt could casually
say, Well, if America wants an obelisk, she can have one.” Egypt is now much
more protective of her heritage, and the obelisks still standing in Egypt are
admired with reverence by millions of tourists each year. The two still standing
at Karnak Temple—one erected by Hatshepsut, one by her father, Tuthmosis
I—are wonderful stopping places for guides to tell their groups the story of
the female pharaoh and her remarkable family.
The lone obelisk remaining at Luxor Temple is also a star. It is the only
obelisk in Egypt that stands in front of its original gateway and gives us an idea
of how the ancient Egyptians saw it. Originally, of course, there were two; the
missing one, once on the right, now stands in Paris. Of all the objects that have
left Egypt, this “obelisk on the right” is the one I would absolutely love to see
back in Egypt. It would be fabulous to have both obelisks standing in front of
the entrance to Luxor Temple, as they did 3,500 years ago. It is almost certain
that this will never happen, so I would be happy just to see a good replica of the
Paris obelisk placed on the empty base at Luxor Temple so everyone could
experience the glory of Egypt as it was.
While millions of tourists visit the Karnak and Luxor obelisks, there are others
in Egypt that hardly anyone sees. Egypt's oldest monumental obelisk, erected by
King Sesostris I, sits quietly isolated in a garden in Heliopolis, now a fashionable
suburb of Cairo. It is within walking distance of the Marriott, a popular tourist
hotel, but few take the trouble to see it. There are bigger fish to fry—the Great
Pyramid at Giza, the Sphinx, the Egyptian Museum, the Step Pyramid of Saqqara,
etc., etc.—so the obelisk goes unvisited. This is not only true in Egypt.
The Paris obelisk stands right in the middle of the Place de la Concorde, so it
is well known and seen by all of Paris. The same is true of the Vatican obelisk,
presiding over St. Peter’s Basilica and surrounded by crowds every Sunday when
the Pope celebrates Mass. The London obelisk, however, is not so well known. It
has a beautiful location on the Thames, but one has to cross a major road to visit
it,so most Londoners pass it by, ignorant of the heroics that brought it to England.
Save the obelisk!
Similarly, the New York obelisk is unknown to most New Yorkers. When it
arrived it was a celebrity, with newspapers covering every step of its journey,
and everyone was concerned about it. During its first four years in New York,
chips of granite began flaking off its surface. New York winters with their
freezing and thawing cycles are notoriously hard on the roads. When rain or
melted snow enters cracks in the road, it freezes and expands, causing potholes.
The obelisk suffered a similar fate. Water entered through small cracks and
when temperatures dropped, the water froze and expanded, causing chips of
the obelisk to fall to the ground. The obelisk was clearly in danger and there
were cries of “Save the obelisk!”
In an attempt to protect the obelisk from more damage, it was waxed to
stabilize the surface and keep water out. At the time of its waxing, the obelisk
was in such bad condition that two-and-a-half barrels (780 pounds) of granite
chips were removed from its surface. The waxing treatment had a good effect
Postscript on the Obelisks 228
for many years. For forty years, starting in the 1970s, I visited the obelisk at all
times of the year and never found a chip of granite on the ground. People
calmed down, trees grew up around it, making it less visible than when it first
was erected, and slowly the obelisk fell into relative obscurity. While many New
Yorkers know that we have an obelisk, few have visited it. Recently people have
claimed it is in terrible condition and in danger of falling, but this is not based
on evidence. In danger of falling, no; dirty, yes. By the 1960s the obelisk was
filthy, in need of a good cleaning thanks to New York’s pollution.
In the late 1970s I thought it would be a good idea to have the obelisk
cleaned for its hundredth anniversary in Central Park, but didn’t get much
support for the idea. However, in 1983 a team from New York University and
the Metropolitan Museum of Art did a thorough study of the obelisk’s history
and condition, and it became clear when, where, and how the damage had
occurred. Evidence replaced speculation. !
It is almost certain that when Tuthmosis III erected the obelisk in Heliopolis
around 1450 BC, it was in perfect condition. The next account of the obelisk’s
condition is from the Geographer, Strabo, who visited Heliopolis around 24
BC. He mentions the well-documented invasion of Egypt by the Persian King
Cambyses around 525 BC. Cambyses was infamous for disrespecting the
monuments and customs of Egypt and Strabo says Cambyses “did very great
injury to the temples, partly by fire, partly by violence, mutilating in some cases
and applying fire in others. In this manner he injured the obelisks” (Geography,
Book XXVII, I).
A simple visual inspection of the obelisk seems to confirm what Strabo tells
us. The bottom twelve or so feet is the part most damaged—what one would
expect if a fire were set at the base. Alexis Julien noted that the obelisk’s pedestal
is undecorated, while most other obelisk pedestals are highly ornamented.’
For example, Hatshepsut’ obelisk bases had historical inscriptions; Ramses the
Great’s at Luxor Temple had baboons adoring the sun and other scenes, etc.
Julien suggests that the pedestal of the New York obelisk originally was
decorated. These scenes were damaged in the fire, and when the Romans later
moved the obelisks and pedestals to Alexandria, they cut away the damaged
surfaces, leaving the pedestals bare.
If we want to understand where all the problems are coming from, it is
important to note that the damage around the bottom is to all four sides, while
the major damage to the upper portion is extreme on one side and more moderate
on two other sides. The upper damage is probably from something other than the
fire. A possible scenario is that Cambyses toppled the two Alexandrian obelisks
when they were in Heliopolis and then for 500 years they lay partially buried in
the ground until the Romans moved them. During the period while they were
partially buried, the exposed surface suffered much of the wear and tear that we
see today. Much of this was probably due to salt crystallization. This is not to say
that no damage has happened in New York. As mentioned above, 780 pounds of
granite came off the obelisk in its first four years in New York.
Modern scientific examination of the obelisk showed that the New York
damage was, indeed, primarily due to thermal changes during the thaw-freeze
cycles of bitter winters. Once the obelisk was waxed, this helped to protect the
surface. The waxing, unfortunately, wasn't applied soon enough to prevent
damage. This is supported by a comparison with the obelisk’s twin in London.
That one was waxed the first year it arrived and has had no problems worth
noting. We must remember, however, that London has a much milder winter
than New York.
The black soiling coating the obelisk was not a danger to the obelisk’s well-
being but it was unsightly, so in 2014 a Central Park Conservancy team carefully
cleaned it. They decided to use lasers calibrated to vaporize the soiling but never
touch the stone. In the few places where fragments of the obelisk were in danger
of falling, conservation grade adhesives were used to stabilize it.
To enable conservators to remove the stains and consolidate fragile portions,
a scaffold was erected around the entire obelisk. This gave me the chance to
observe the tip of the obelisk up close, something I had always wanted to do.
After a few minutes of climbing the spiral staircase surrounding the obelisk, I
was at the top and was met with a surprise. The tip of the obelisk was not one
piece as it should have been. All obelisks are carved from a single piece of
stone. This obelisk had been damaged and repaired sometime during its very
long life, but when? Close-up inspection showed that the top eight inches or so
of the pyramidion was attached to the rest of the obelisk by means of a modern
(late nineteenth-century or later) threaded rod about one inch in diameter.
After my initial shock wore off, I looked closely at the rest of the pyramidion
and discovered that on all four sides, towards the bottom of the pyramidion
were two drilled holes, one with a bolt still inside it. In all my reading about the
Postscript on the Obelisks 225
Figure 7.1 The very tip of the obelisk was broken and repaired, but we don’t know
exactly when. The arrows point to three of the bolt-holes that once held cladding.
obelisk, I had never seen the broken tip or bolt-holes mentioned. What was the
function of the eight bolt-holes? My mind started filling with scenarios. Had
Gorringe broken the tip in transport, reattached it, and then intended to cover
up the break by cladding the tip with copper or bronze? It was difficult to tell
if the attached tip was the original reattached or a replacement; the stone was
certainly pink Aswan granite. The edges of the obelisk continue almost
unbroken even with the attached tip. It is hard to imagine the tip breaking so
cleanly and with no loss of stone, so my bet is that it is a replacement. But when
did the damage occur?
My first thought was to look at old photos of the obelisk when it was
standing in Alexandria. Perhaps I could see if the tip was missing then.
Ambiguous! I just couldn’ tell. Even with a trip to Staples to enlarge the images,
I couldn't be certain. Sometimes it looked as if it could be missing, but from
other angles it looked complete.
I next went to Gorringe’s book to see the photos there. Perhaps they could
answer the questions of when it was broken and when it was repaired. The
problem with most of these photos is that Gorringe clad the obelisk in wood
to protect it, so we dont see the tip. However, the book contains two beautiful
photos by the well-known photographer Edward Bierstadt—one of the obelisk
standing in Alexandria before Gorringe moved it and one after its erection in
Central Park. The photo taken in Alexandria seems to show the obelisk missing
the tip, but is not 100 percent clear. I needed a photo form a different angle. I
sent out the word to friends who collect nineteenth-century photos of Egypt,
explaining what I needed. One friend, William Joy, wrote back that he had just
ordered some photos from France and one was of the standing Alexandria
obelisk taken around the 1870s. When it arrived he e-mailed me the photo
(Figure 7.2). He also enlarged the top for me and there it is, no doubt, the tip is
missing (Figure 7.3). So the first part of the mystery is solved. The obelisk lost
its tip in Egypt some time ago. Now the question is, when was it repaired?
The Bierstadt photo of the obelisk safely erected in the park (see Figure 6.16),
I believe, shows an obelisk with the tip attached. Again, it isn't perfectly clear—I
had to use a magnifying glass—but it seems as if Gorringe had a replacement
cut and attached it in Alexandria. If this is true, why didn't he mention the
restoration? And what about the bolt-holes? They were definitely used. When
was the cladding put on and when was it removed? That remains a mystery.
With its conservation completed, the obelisk is safely nestled behind the
Metropolitan Museum of Art in Central Park. Like other obelisks, it was
erected to perpetuate the glory of a pharaoh. To some extent it has failed to do
this. The great warrior pharaoh, Tuthmosis III, erected it and carved his titles
boldly down the center of all four sides of the monolith. Two centuries later,
Ramses the Great elbowed his way in and proclaimed his glory by carving his
Postscript on the Obelisks 227,
ve
at en Pe oe
renee sem
Figure 7.2 The New York obelisk in its squalid surroundings in Alexandria around
1870. This photo seems to show that the obelisk had a broken tip while it was
standing in Alexandria.
names and titles in columns on either side of Tuthmosis’ inscriptions. Several

centuries later a minor pharaoh, Osorcon, wanted to be remembered with the
great ones, but by this time uncarved space on the obelisk was scarce, so he
squeezed in just his name on a small spot on one side of the obelisk. But the
truth is, these pharaohs’ associations with the obelisk are largely forgotten. It is
the obelisk people remember, not the inscriptions.
Figure 7.3 The enlargement of the tip shows it was broken before Gorringe moved it.
There is something about the obelisks themselves, not their history, that cails
to us. Walk through any cemetery and you will see dozens of obelisks marking
graves. They have become symbols of endurance and eternity. Soaring skyward,
with their tips pointing straight up, they draw the eye heavenward. It doesn't
matter who the hero was who erected it, or in what year. The obelisk is a thing-in-
itself, not a monument to a particular person, but a tribute to the human spirit.
Notes
Chapter 1 How to Quarry an Obelisk

1 Partridge, p. 65.
Chapter 2 Rome’s Obelisks

1 Finden, p. 22.
2 Towards the end of his long career, Kircher was ridiculed for his flights of fancy into the
realm of hieroglyphs. After reading one of Kircher’s learned works on hieroglyphs, the
German mathematician Leibniz concluded, “He understands nothing” But it would be
unfair to conclude that Kircher was merely a fraud. Misguided, certainly, but he did,
indeed make a contribution towards the decipherment of hieroglyphs. In his Prodromus
Coptus sive Aegyptiacus he is the first to note that Coptic is related to the language of the
ancient Egyptians. Perhaps one reason he was so often wrong is that he was just spread
too thin. He was interested in everything. As a young man he was lowered by rope into
an active volcano so he could study its eruptions. When the plague struck Rome in 1667
he looked at Rome's water through his microscope to find the cause—early germ theory!
When he was named curator of the Collegio Romano’s museum, he added considerably
to its holdings, creating one of the greatest cabinets of curiosities in the world.
Chapter 3 God's Architect

1 Parsons, p. 156.
2 Fontana, Della Transportatione Dell’Obelisco Vaticano (Oakland: Octavo, 2002),
PPalZalse
Chapter 4 Napoleon's Obelisk

1 Lebas, p. 13.
2 Ibid.,p. 18.
3 Ibid.,p.11.
4 De Joannis.
5 Lebas, p. 24.
6 Norden, Vol. I, plate VII
7 Lebas, p. 45.
8 Ibid.
9 Ibid., p. 84.
10 Ibid.,
pp. 132-3.
230 Notes to pages 115-223
11 Joannis, p. 49.
12 Lebas, pp. 143-4.
13 Joannis, p. 11.
14 Lebas, p. 155.
15 Ibid., pp. 155-6.
Chapter 5 Cleopatra’s Needle Sails for London

1 Cooper, p. 130.
2 Ibid., p. 140.
3 Ibid.,p.141
4 Baker, p. 234.
5 Letter from Captain Henry Carter to John Dixon, October 17, 1877. London
Metropolitan Archives, item Q/CN/4. I am indebted to Ian Pierce for this reference.
6 Anon, p. 157.
Chapter 6 The Oldest Skyscraper in New York

1 Yeates, p. 19.
2 Farman, Cleopatra’ Needle, pp. 162-3.
3 Ibid.,p.163.
4 Schroeder, p. 76.
5 Ibid.,p.127.
6 Gorringe, p. 5.
7 Gorringe, p. 10.
8 Ibid.,pp.10-11.
9 Molds were made of the two remaining bronze crabs and four replica bronze crabs
were fashioned at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. These are the crabs that visitors to the
obelisk see today.
10 Gorringe, p. 28.
11 Ibid., p. 33.
12 Smyth.
Chapter 7 Postscript on the Obelisks

1 Lewin, Wheeler, and Charola.
2 Julien, pp. 93-166.
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Index
42nd Street Public Library, 201
A.M. Lawrence No. 4 (pilot-boat) 197 Askin, William 140-55

Abdin Palace 163 Aslambekoff, Rear Admiral 186
Abu Simbel 117 Aswan quarry 11-14, 19
Abukir Bay 96 Augustus, Emperor 39, 33-6, 38, 54, 56, 67,
Acre, battle of 97-8 92, 143-6, 185
Adelphi Steps 149-50 Auletta, Richard viii
Agrippa, Camillo 69-70
Alexander, Pope 37 Baker, Benjamin 131-4, 150
Alexander the Great 93 Bank of Rothschild 166
Alexander VII Chigi, Pope 50 Barbados 171
Alexandria Egypt 31-2, 185, 189 Barbarus, Prefect 185
Alexandria harbor 119-33 Barberini, Cardinal 60
Alexandria obelisks 62, 67, 94, 106-7, Barga, Alberta viii
128-9, 132, 159, 162-3, 165, Barthodi, Frederick 128
169, 224 Battle of Kadesh 21
Alexandria, Port of 189, 191 Battle of the Nile 96-7
Amasis, King 48 Battle of the Pyramids 94-6
American Bible Society 202 Bay of Biscay 139, 143, 146
American Numismatic and Bay of Naples 25
Archaeological Society of Benedict XIV, Pope 38-9, 41
New York 218 Bent Pyramid, Dashur 7-9
Ammanati, Bartolomeo 71 Bernine, Gian Lorenzo 50-2, 55-6
An Accurate Description of the Antiquities Berthollet, Claude-Louis 94, 97
of Athens 39 Bienbon, Joseph 155
Anglia (tug boat) 146-7 Bierstadt, Edward 214, 226
Anglo Saxon Lodge 137, 190, 200, 202 Bonaparte, Napoleon 93
Anthony, Supreme Grand Master Jesse B abandons Egyptian Campaign 98
200, 203-4 Battle of Acre 97-8
Antinori, Givoanni 44-7 Battle of the Pyramids 95-6
Antinous 60-1 founds Institute d’Egypte 97
Antolini, Giovanni 41-2 Booth, Captain 136-7, 139-40, 142
Antoninus Pius, column of 40 Borromini, Francesco 55
Antony and Cleopatra 66 Bresciano, Prospero 89
Antony, Marc 31-2, 54 British Museum 98
Apries, King 50 Brooklyn Bridge 180
Aristotle 54 Brueys, Admiral 96
Arizona (ship) 180 Brugsch, Emile 160-2
Around the World with General Grant Brugsch, Heinrich 164-6
160-1 Burns, Michale 155
Index
Caesar, Julius 30-1, 54, 92 Della Porto, Giacomo 71

Caffarelli, Louis 97 Della Transportatione dell’Obelisco
Cairo Marriott Hotel 127 Vaticano 71
Caius Sallustius Crispus 46 DeMille, Cecil B 16
Caligula, Emperor 54, 67-8, 84—5, 92 Denon, Vivant 94, 102
Cambyses, King 34, 223-4 Department of Parks, NY 199
Campo Marzio 36, 38, 40 Descartes, Rene 37
Canterbury Tales 91 Description de 'Egypt 99-101, 128
Capitoline Obelisk 58 di Burdighera, Bresca 86
Carter, Captain Henry 131, 134, 140, 143, Dixon, John 121-2, 134-5, 142, 145,171
145-6, 149 Dixon, Waynman 128-9, 131, 133-6,
Carter, Howard 21 139, 142
castello 73-4, 79-81, 86 Djehuti-Hotep, Statue of 20-1
Central Park Conservancy IX, 174, 178, Djessar Pasha 97
198-9, 206-7, 210, 213, 215, 220, Dolorite 11-12
2235226 Domitian, Emperor 54-5
Champion, (tug boat) 134 Donald, William 155
Champollion 102, 104-5 Dromadaire (ship) 105
Chaucer, Geoffrey 91 Drusilla 65
Cherif, Pasha, 168-70 189
Chevalier, Michel 122 Egypt Enlightening Asia, (sculpture) 128
Chipman, Mary viii Egypt, bankruptcy 166
cholera 110, 113 Egyptian Campaign 94, 98
Circus Varianus 60 elephant obelisk, see Piazza della Minerva
Ciriaco Mattei 58 Obelisk
Clement XI, Pope 58-9 elephant, as hieroglyph of wisdom 50-2
Clement XIV, Pope 62 Encyclopedia of Mechanics and Engineering
Cleopatra VII, Queen 28, 30-3, 54, 211 203
Cleopatra, (ship) 132, 134, 147, 149-50, Engelbach, Rex 16, 18-20, 27
lsyay NZS) Engineers and Engineering in the
Cleopatra’s Needle Waltz (song) 152, 154 Renaissance 70
Cleopatra’s Needles 32, 138, 145, 151, 153, English Channel 147
170-1, 179, 181, 204, 210, 219-20 Esqualine Obelisk 42-4
Commission of Arts and Sciences 94 Eugenie, Empress 127, 156
Constantine, Emperor 62, 69 Evans, Captain 143-6
Constantinople Obelisk 62-3 Evarts, William 213, 217
corbeling 6-7 exorcism, ritual of 90-1
crabs, bronze 215-17, 230
Croton Reservoir 201 Farman, E.E. 157-9, 161-6, 168-70, 180,
cubit 77 Die),
Farragut, Admiral 172
d Haussez, Baron 104 Ferratini, Bishop 90
da Vinci, Leonardo 77 Ferrol 144
Danour 117 Fitzmaurice (ship) 143, 145
de Dolomieu, Deodat 94 Flaminian Obelisk 34
de Jonnis, Lieutenant Leon 105, 117-18 Fontana, Domenico 34, 36, 44, 70-90, 92
de Lessips, Ferdinand 126-7, 163-4 Forum Julium 67
de Sebastiane, Count 105 Fountain obelisk, see Piazza Navona
Deir el Bahri, Temple 21-3 Obelisk
Index 235
Fourier, Jean-Baptiste 94 Hurlbert, William H 156, 203, 213

Freemasons 130, 190-1, 199-202, hydraulic jacks 150, 188, 190, 192, 195, 203,
204 208
Gallus, Cornelius 66-7 Illustrated London News 137, 144, 151

Gardiner, James 155 Imhotep 3-6
Geography, of Strabo 223 Indulgence, Papal 91
George III, King 101 Innocent X, Pope 55
George IV, King 101 Institut @Egypt 97
Gettysburg (ship) 172 Isis Suite 125
Gibraltar 138, 197 Isis 54
Gizira Palace 163 temple of 54-5
Gnomon Obelisk, see Monte Cristo Ismail Pasha 127
Obelisk Ismailia (city) 127
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 41
Gorringe, Commander Henry John English & Co 210
Honeychurch 171, 173-4, 177, John, Kathy ix
180, 182-9, 192, 196, 201-2, Journal des Debats 122
204-5, 207-8, 210-12, 215, Joy, William ix, 226
217-19, 226 Julius II, Pope 36, 69
Grace, Mayor William Russell 217
granite 9 Karnak Temple 19, 24, 62,
Grant, General Ulysses S. 158-9, 162 obelisks of 166-7, 221
Gravesend 147 Khedive Ismail 156 158, 160, 162-3, 167-8,
Great Pyramid 10-11 180-1, 217-18, 221
Burial Chamber 10 Khedive Tewfik 180
Granite Beams 11 Khufu, King 10
Greywacke Knoll 198-9, 202, 212 Kircher, Athanasius 36-8, 42, 26, 51, 55-7,
Guiscard, Robert 36 60, 229
Gulf of Finland 174 Kleber, General Jean-Baptiste 98
Hadrian, Emperor 60-1 LOrient (ship) 96

Hatshepsut, King 19, 21-4, 27 Lebas, Apollinaire 105, 107, 118
Obelisks 24-5, 161, 221 clears debris from Luxor obelisk 109
Hawass, Dr. Zahi 165 erects obelisk 121-4
Helena, Empress 69 examines Luxor obelisk 108-9
Heliopolis, Egypt 32, 34, 36, 48, 159, 166, lowers, Luxor obelisk 111-13
185, 215, 222-4 moves obelisk to ship 115-16
Hemienu 11 Leo X, Pope 42
Herodotus 1 limestone 9
Heston, Charlton 16 Lingua Aegyptiaca Restituta 37
Hetepheres, Queen 7 Loring, William 158
Hieroglyphica 52 Louis Philippe, King 123-5
hieroglyphs 52, 56-7, 69 Luxor obelisks 1-4, 221, 223
Horapollo 52 pedestal 109, 113-14, 121
Horemheb, King 16 Luxor Temple 104, 161-2
Houses of Parliament 147-8 Luxor, city 107, 161
Howe, Ian ix Luxor (ship) 104-5 107, 109-10, 116,
Hudson River 197, 206-7 118-19, 121, 173
236 Index
Madison Square 200-1 plan for removal 177-9

Magi, Filippo 65-6 route through Central Park 107-12
Magic Flute (opera) 125 tip broken 224-8
Mamelukes 94-6 New York University 223
Marcel, Jean-Joseph 100 New York World 213
Marcellinus, Ammianus 66, Nilus 53
Mariette, August 166, 223 Nina (steam ship) 146
Mariotis (ship) 185 Norden, Frederick 106-7
Marriott Hotel 222 Nubar, Pasha 167-8
Masons, see Freemasons
mastaba 3 Obeliscus Pamphilius 37
Matthews, Josiah 146 obelisks
Maxentius, Emperor 55 erecting 26-7
Mehmet Tewfik Pasha 171 pagan monuments, as 69
Meidum, pyramid 6 pedestal 26-7
Menou, General Abdullah 98 Roman 33-62
Metropolitan Museum of Art 185, 199, unfinished 14-20
202527, 219; obelisk pencils 152
Minim (ship) 186 Octavian 31-2, 66
Mohamed Ali 101 Olga (steamship) 135, 137, 139, 141-2,
gives away obelisks 101-3, 165 Osorcon, King 227
slaughter of Mamelukes 101
Mohamed Said Pasha 126 Paris 121
Monge, Gaspard 94, 97 Parsons, William 20
Monte Citorio, obelisk (Gnomon obelisk) Palazzo dei Conservatori 76
35-6 Piazza della Rotunda Obelisk 58-9
Monte Picino obelisk 60-3 Paul of Tarsus 68
Mosby, Vivian viii Paten, William 155
Mosquito (tug boat) 147 Piazza di Monte Citorio 39-40
Mozart, Wolfgang 125 Partridge, Robert 23
Moustapha Raiz 181 Piazza del Popolo Obelisk 33-5
Mussolini, Benito 48 Piazza della Minerva Obelisk 50-1
Piazza Navona 36, 55
Narmer Palette 1-3 Pius VI, Pope 41, 44, 46
Narmer, King 1-3 Pius V 23
Natural History, of Pliny 36 Pliny the Elder 24-6, 36
Naville, Edouard 22 Proculus 62
Nelson, Admiral Horatio 96-7 Psamtek II, King 36
Nero, Emperor 68 Ptolemy XIII, King 30
Neva River 175-6 Pontius, architect 185
Nevada (ship) 185 Plato 54
New York Herald 146, 160 Ptolemies 28
New York Obelisk Price, Frank 180, 185, 189
conservation of 221-6 Punt, land of, 22
erecting 213-17 Pozzolano 73
loading on ship 192-6 Peter, Saint 68, 73
lowering 186-90 Peter the Great 174, 176
negotiations for 156-71 Promodorus Coptus sive Aegyptiacus 229
pedestal and base 189-91 Phillimore, Sir R. J. 125
Index 237,
Place de la Concorde 105, 124, 222 Step Pyramid, of Saqgara 5-6

pulleys 111-12 Strabo 34
Strabo, the geographer 223
Quirinale, Obelisk 44-5 Stuart, James 39
Suetonius 65
Railway Station Obelisk, see Viale della Suez Canal Company 126
Terme Obelisk Suez Canal 128-9, 156
Ramses III, King 21 Sumner, Colette viii
Ramses the Great 21, 17, 34, 48, 114, 162, sunflower clock 37
226
obelisk 0, 26, 114 Taylor, Baron 104
Red Pyramid, Dashur 2-9 Taylor, Deputy Grand Master 203
Reiley, Matthew ix Ten Commandments, the 16
Remler, Pat viii Thames Embankment 147
Rockland Cemetery 219 Thames Iron Works 131, 140
Roebling Iron Works 178, 180 Thieblot, Armand viii
Rosetta Stone 98 Tiberius 65
Titus, Emperor 55
Saint Peter’s Basilica 69-71, 75-6, 85, 222 Tobago 171
Saint Peter’s Square 64, 86-87, 89 Trajan, Emperor 40
Saint-Hilaire, Geoffroy 94, 97 Treasury Department 201
Sallust Gardens 46 trestle 212
Sami Bey 160 Trinita di Monti Obelisk 45-7
Santa Maria Maggiore Obelisk, see Tuthmosis I, King 19, 13, 17, 221
Esqualine Obelisk Tuthmosis II, King 19
savants 94, 97, 99 Tuthmosis III, King 19, 32, 215, 223, 226
Schroeder, Seaton 172-3, 183, 194, 196
Seine, river 121 United States Coast Guard and Geodetic
Serapis 54 Survey 202
Sesostris, King 42, 222 Urban VIII, Pope 55
Seti I, King 39
shore crane 192 Valley of the Kings 16
Simmons, Acting Grand Senior Warden Vandalia (ship) 160
Edward H 203 Vanderbilt, William 162, 169, 179, 191,
Sixtus Varius Marcellus 60 207, 218-19
Sixtus, V, Pope 36, 44, 70-1, 91-2 Vatican Obelisk 84-92, 222
Smith, Admiral Sidney 97 Verniac, Captain 110, 116, 119-20
Smyth, Charles Piazzi 204 Vespasian, Emperor 55
Sneferu, King 7-8 Vesuvius, Mt. 25
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Viale delle Terme Obelisk 48-50
Animals 203 Victoria, Queen 155, 203
Spanish Steps Obelisk, see Trinita dei Villa Celimontana Obelisk, see Capitoline
Monti Obelisk
Sphinx (ship) 119-21 Villa Celimontana 58
St. Petersburg 174-6 Villa Ludovisi 47
Staten Island Quarantine Station 197 Vitruvius 77
Staten Island 208
Statue of Liberty 128 Waghorn, Thomas 126
Stebbins, Henry G 157 Warsh, Marie ix
238 Index
Websters Unabridged Dictonary 203 World, The (newspaper) 171, 173, 203
West Boulevard 208 Worth, General William 201
Wheeler, George ix
Whitin, Lewis F. 109 Young, John Russell 160
Wilkinson, Sir Gardiner, 129
William IV, King 103 Zabaglia, Niccolo 38
Wilson, Sir Erasmus 129-30, 146-7, 152, Zinet el Bohren (ship) 160-1
155 Zola, Grand Master S. A. 190
Windlass 78-9, 81, 83-4, 86, 88-9 Zoser, King 3-6
—
= — 3 8 = “7
: "ia
Bob Brier is Senior Research Fellow at Long
Island University, USA, and is a world-famous
Egyptologist. He is the author of The Murder of
Tutankhamen, Ancient Egyptian Magic, Egyptian
Mummies, and Secret of the Great Pyramid.
He was host to TLC’s documentary series
The Great Egyptians, The World of Pyramids, and
Mummy Detective.
BLOOMSBURY
EGYPTOLOGY
SERIES EDITOR: NICHOLAS REEVES
Ancient Egyptians at Play

Walter Crist, Anne-Elizabeth Dunn-Vaturi
and Alex de Voogt
Archaeologists, Tourists, Interpreters

Rachel Mairs and Maya Muratov
Asiatics in Middle Kingdom Egypt

Phyllis Saretta
The Egyptian Oracle Project

Edited by Robyn Gillam & Jeffrey Jacobson
The Unknown Tutankhamun

Marianne Eaton-Krauss
Cover design by Catherine Wood

Cover image: Cleopatra's Needle; the machinery for Placing the Obelisk in Position
on the Thames Embankment / Private Collection /Photo © Liszt Collection /
Bridgeman Images
‘Pointing to the heavens, ancient obelisks proudly display
their Egyptian origins to the world. Often embellished with
informative royal hieroglyphic inscriptions, many obelisks
have now gained an additional historical layer—
the fascinating and sometimes controversial narrative
of their travels from Egypt to faraway lands. Bob Brier
captures these stories with his thorough research and
unique storytelling skills’
PETER DER MANUELIAN, Philip J. King Professor of Egyptology,
Harvard University, USA, and Director, Harvard Semitic Museum, USA
‘A book full of fascinating and obscure details about

Egyptian obelisks, this volume by Bob Brier is written in his
usual chatty manner. Meticulously researched, it offers an :
entertaining and informative read for both scholars and
the general public’
RITA E. FREED, John F. Cogan Jr. and Mary L. Cornille Chair, Art of the
Ancient World, Museum of Fine Arts Boston, USA
|
LS
=
=)
BLOOMSBURY =
jy EGYPTOLOGY 781474242936 ”
SERIES EDITOR: NICHOLAS REEVES CLASSICAL STUDIES & ARCHAEOLOGY |

Cleopatras Needles The Lost Obelisks of Egypt

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Cleopatras Needles The Lost Obelisks of Egypt

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‘A brilliant book, bringing the magic and the

miyaiely ofancient Egypt to all of US.

This turbulent era, caught up in obelisk mania,

Wilmett blic Library

Ancient Egyptian Technology and Innovation, lan Shaw

50 Bedford Square 1385 Broadway

First published 2016

© Bob Brier, 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted

No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

ISBN: HB: 978-1-47424-293-6

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Series: Bloomsbury Egyptology

Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

For Richard, Colette, and Alberta, my merry band of translators

1 How to Quarry an Obelisk 1

Mary Chipman, friend of many years, collaborator on all things Egyptian,

Many Egyptians owned palettes on which they ground cosmetics. Take

The first building in stone

before their descendants would be quarrying an obelisk that weighed 1,000

Egypt's first pyramid

Disaster in the desert

The Great Pyramid of Giza

the pyramid’s architect, Hemienu. As we have seen, the problem of internal

The Aswan granite quarry

The unfinished obelisk

the level of the quarry or an incredible amount of granite would have to be

Djehuti-hotep’s colossal statue is moved

Our best representation of Egyptians hauling a large stone is painted on a wall

e HOR eneann nnn nan ane : nan wil

“Deir el Bahri” is modern Arabic for “Place of the Northern Monastery.”

Pliny the Elder to the rescue

Caesar and Cleopatra

Antony and Cleopatra

The end of the line

As Octavian approached, Cleopatra barricaded herself inside the palace. She

How “Cleopatra's Needles” became Cleopatra’s

Piazza del Popolo Obelisk

The Gnomon Obelisk (Monte Citorio)

The last man who knew everything

overturned by inclemency, time and barbarians, buried

Cleansed from dirt and with added ornaments,

Esqualine Obelisk (Santa Maria Maggiore)

I was formerly carved and cut from the mountain of Egypt

Trinita dei Monti (Spanish Steps)

The Obelisk at the Railway Station (Viale delle Terme)

Bernini's Elephant Obelisk (Piazza della Minerva)

Let any beholder of the carved images of the wisdom of Egypt

Horapollo leads everyone astray

Bernini’ Fountain (Piazza Navona)

Capitoline Obelisk (Villa Celimontana)

Having first extended the grounds, Manuel Godoy

The monument is no longer open to the public; it is in a private garden.

Piazza della Rotonda

Rome’s last obelisk (Monte Picino)

The last obelisk erected in Rome is a unique bit of Egyptomania, a tribute to

TOS, FAT as aie,

The Constantinople Obelisk

ri SeadG) Mig Can Sk

The monster's trophy

Caligula’ reputation is well earned. He was a rather strange-looking young

Detective Magi and the case of the uninscribed obelisk