and they themselves felt the slow undermining of the
sea as it encroached upon the land, until at last
one of them fell to the ground about three hundred
years ago, and got partially covered over with sand,
leaving the other to stand alone. Then came the
French invasion of Egypt, and the victories of Nelson
and Abercromby, when Mahomet Ali, the ruler of the
land, offered the prostrate obelisk to the British
nation as a token of gratitude. The offer, however,
was not taken advantage of, for various reasons.
At last the patriotism and enterprise of a private
individual, the late Sir Erasmus Wilson, came to the
rescue, when the stone was about to be broken up into
building material by the proprietor of the ground
on which it lay. An iron water-tight cylinder
was constructed for its transport, in which, with much
toil, the obelisk was encased and floated. It
was taken in tow by a steam-tug, which encountered
a fearful storm in the Bay of Biscay. This led
to the abandonment of the pontoon cylinder, which
floated about for three days, and was at last picked
up by a passing steamer, and towed to the coast of
Spain; from whence it was brought to England, and set
up where it now stands on the Thames Embankment.
Its transport cost altogether about L13,000, and was
a work of great anxiety and difficulty. Standing
seventy feet high on its present site, it forms one
of the noblest and most appropriate monuments of the
greatest city in the world; awakening the curiosity
of every passer-by regarding the mysteries revealed
in its enigmatical sculptures.
The companion obelisk which had been left standing
at Alexandria, after having suffered much from neglect,
in the midst of its mean and filthy surroundings,
was presented to the American Government by the Khedive
of Egypt. But that Government acted in the same
supine spirit in which our own had acted; and it was
left to the ability of Captain Corringe as engineer,
and to the liberality of the millionaire Vanderbilt,
who paid the expenses incurred, amounting to L20,000,
to bring the obelisk in the hold of a chartered steamer
across the Atlantic, and set it up in the midst of
New York city. And if the one obelisk is a remarkable
sight in London, the other is a still more remarkable
sight in New York. There, amid the latest inventions
of the West, surrounded by the most recent civilisation
of the world, rises up serenely, unchanged to heaven,
the earliest monument of the East, surrounded by the
most ancient civilisation of the world. “Westward
the course of empire takes its way;” and as the
old obelisk of Heliopolis witnessed the ending of
the four first dramas of human history, so shall it
close the fifth and last. The sun in the East
rose over its birth; the sun in the West shall set
over its death.