In 1798 Napoleon Buonaparte, with forty thousand French troops, landed on the coast of Egypt, and soon conquered the country. Admiral Nelson destroyed the French fleet in Aboukir Bay; and at a decisive battle fought within sight of Cleopatra’s Needle in 1801, Sir Ralph Abercrombie completely defeated the French army, and rescued Egypt from their dominion. Our soldiers and sailors, wishful to have a trophy of their Nile victories, conceived the idea of bringing the prostrate column to England. The troops cheerfully subscribed part of their pay, and set to work to move the obelisk. After considerable exertions they moved it only a few feet, and the undertaking, not meeting with the approval of the commanders of the army and navy, was unfortunately abandoned. Part of the pedestal was, however, uncovered and raised, and a small space being chiselled out of the surface, a brass plate was inserted, on which was engraved a short account of the British victories.
George IV., on his accession to the throne in 1820, received as a gift the prostrate obelisk from Mehemet Ali, then ruler of Egypt. The nation looked forward with hope to its speedy arrival in England, but for some reason the valuable present was not accepted. In 1831 Mehemet Ali not only renewed his offer to King William IV., but promised also to ship the monolith free of charge. The compliment, however, was declined with thanks. In 1849 the Government announced in the House of Commons their desire to transport it to London, but as the opposition urged “that the obelisk was too much defaced to be worth removal,” the proposal was not carried out. In 1851, the year rendered memorable by the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, the question was again broached in the House, but the estimated outlay of £7,000 for transport was deemed too large a grant from the public purse. In 1853 the Sydenham Palace Company, desirous of having the obelisk in their Egyptian court, expressed their wish to set it up in the transept of the Palace, and offered to pay all expenses. The consent of the Government was asked for its removal, but the design fell through, because, as was urged, national property could only be lent, not given to a private company.
Great diversity of opinion existed about that time respecting its value, even among the leading Egyptologists; for in 1858 that enthusiastic Egyptian scholar, Sir Gardner Wilkinson, referring to Mehemet Ali’s generous offer, said:—“The project has been wisely abandoned, and cooler deliberation has pronounced that from its mutilated state and the obliteration of many of the hieroglyphics by exposure to the sea air, it is unworthy the expense of removal.”
In 1867 the Khedive disposed of the ground on which the prostrate Needle lay to a Greek merchant, who insisted on its removal from his property. The Khedive appealed to England to take possession of it, otherwise our title to the monument must be given up, as it was rapidly being buried amid the sand. The appeal, however, produced no effect, and it became evident to those antiquaries interested in the treasures of ancient Egypt, that if ever the obelisk was to be rescued from the rubbish in which it lay buried, and transported to the shores of England, the undertaking would not be carried out by our Government, but by private munificence.
The owner of the ground on which it lay actually entertained the idea of breaking it up for building material, and it was only saved from destruction by the timely intervention of General Alexander, who for ten successive years pleaded incessantly with the owner of the ground, with learned societies and with the English Government, for the preservation and removal of the monument. The indefatigable General went to Egypt to visit the spot in 1875. He found the prostrate obelisk hidden from view and buried in the sand; but through the assistance of Mr. Wyman Dixon, C.E., it was uncovered and examined.
On returning to England, the General represented the state of the case to his friend Professor Erasmus Wilson, and the question of transport was discussed by these two gentlemen together with Mr. John Dixon, C.E. The latter after due consideration gave the estimated cost at £10,000, whereupon Professor Wilson, inspired with the ardent wish of rescuing the precious relic from oblivion, signed a bond for £10,000, and agreed to pay this sum to Mr. Dixon, on the obelisk being set up in London. The Board of Works offered a site on the Thames Embankment, and Mr. Dixon set to work con amore to carry out the contract.
Cleopatra’s Needle, on the Thames Embankment.
Early in July, 1877, he arrived at Alexandria, and soon unearthed the buried monolith, which he was delighted to find in much better condition than had been generally represented. With considerable labour it was encased in an iron watertight cylinder about one hundred feet long, which with its precious treasure was set afloat. The Olga steam tug was employed to tow it, and on the 21st September, 1877, steamed out of the harbour of Alexandria en route for England. The voyage for twenty days was a prosperous one, but on the 14th October, when in the Bay of Biscay, a storm arose, and the pontoon cylinder was raised on end. At midnight it was thought to be foundering, and to save the crew its connection with the Olga was cut off. The captain, thinking that the Needle had gone to the bottom of the sea, sailed for England, where the sorrowful tidings soon spread of the loss of the anxiously expected monument. To the great delight of the nation, it was discovered that the pontoon, instead of sinking, had floated about for sixty hours on the surface of the waters, and having been picked up by the steamer Fitzmaurice, had been towed to Vigo, on the coast of Spain. After a few weeks’ delay it was brought to England, and set up in its present position on the Thames Embankment.
The London Needle is about seventy feet long, and from the base, which measures about eight feet, it gradually tapers upwards to the width of five feet, when it contracts into a pointed pyramid seven feet high. Set up in its original position at Heliopolis about fifteen centuries before the Christian era, this venerable monument of a remote antiquity is nearly thirty-five centuries old.