Part 2
The one numbered 70 was used as the door-sill of a mosque in the castle of Cairo, where that excellent traveller, Niebuhr, saw it in 1762, and copied part of the figures. By comparing his drawing with the north side of this obelisk (as it now stands), we readily discover it to be the same. This obelisk, besides losing its top and part of the shaft, has been broken into two unequal pieces, which are now united. The lower part, however, is quite complete, which is evident from there being a smooth unsculptured surface on all the four sides, to the height of about 10¼ inches above the base. In all the obelisks that have been accurately measured, at least in all of which we have been able to procure a complete account, the width of the adjacent sides is different. For example, in this Museum obelisk, as it now stands, the north and south sides are of the same dimensions, being about 1 foot 4⅞ inches wide, while the east and west sides are each about 1 foot 5½ inches: the height of this fragment is about 8 feet 1¾ inch, measured along one of the faces.
These two obelisks have a great number of figures cut on each face, representing either natural objects, such as birds and serpents, or various other things which it is not in all cases easy to identify. They are cut deep into the stone, and, in some instances, a considerable elevation or relief is given to the parts contained within the deep incision, for the purpose of showing the round and prominent parts of the figure. On all Egyptian monuments of an early age, animals are cut with great accuracy of outline and spirit, especially birds, of which this obelisk offers some excellent specimens in the goose, the ibis, known by his long beak and legs, and another bird in walking attitude, near the base of the south side. The execution of this last is above all praise.
It is now ascertained that the figures enclosed in oblong rings contain the titles and names of kings. These are the same on the two obelisks, and they happen also to be the same as those on the great sarcophagus, No. 6.
There have been many disputes among the learned as to the origin and meaning of obelisks, into which we shall not enter here. We know that they were generally placed in pairs at the entrances of the great Egyptian temples and palaces; and there are still two standing, in their original position, before the gateway of a large edifice at Thebes. When the Romans got possession of Egypt, Augustus removed two of the largest obelisks from Heliopolis (the city of the sun) to Rome, where they still exist, and attest the fact of their removal at that period, by a Latin inscription on the pedestal. During the troubles of the city and the disastrous period of the decline of the Roman Empire, these and other obelisks were thrown down and broken; but they have since been set on pedestals by the enterprising spirit of some of the popes. Sixtus V., in 1586, set the first example, in which he was followed by several of his successors; and Pius VI. restored other obelisks in the years 1786, 1789, and 1792. Two have been raised since the last-mentioned date.
The largest obelisk now at Rome, and perhaps the largest in the world, is that which stands in front of the Lateran church. It was originally erected by the Emperor Constantius[4], in the Circus Maximus, by means of a most cumbrous machinery of wood-work and ropes, after having been brought from Egypt in a ship built expressly for the purpose, and manned with three hundred rowers. Pope Sixtus V. set it up in its present place in 1588, after it had lain on the ground broken in three pieces for several centuries. Though the shaft has sustained some damage at the base, it is still 105 feet long; the width of the two larger sides at the base is 9 feet 8⅗ inches, and of the smaller 9 feet. It now stands on a kind of pedestal, quite unsuited to the simple character of the genuine Egyptian supports. The whole height at present, with its pedestal and ornaments on the top, is about 150 English feet, and the weight of the obelisk itself may probably be about 440 tons. The material is the red granite of Syene, resembling that of the altar, No. 2, in the British Museum.
It is not so much the actual magnitude of an obelisk which excites our wonder, for the London monument is 50 feet higher than the tallest of the Roman obelisks--but the simplicity of the obelisk form, which is not disfigured by any irregularity, its gradual diminution towards the summit, which takes away all appearance of heaviness, the beautiful sculptures with which most of them are covered, and the unity of the huge mass cut from the quarries of Syene, conveyed so many hundred miles, and then set firmly on its pedestal--all these combined fill us with admiration at the boldness and taste of the designer, and the unwearied patience and skill of the sculptor.
The following account of the mode in which an obelisk was carried down the Nile, is preserved in Pliny’s Natural History[5], a book containing a mass of information in a very crude, and often almost unintelligible shape.
“A canal was dug from the river to the place where the obelisk lay, and two boats were placed side-by-side, filled with pieces of stone of the same material as the obelisk. These pieces were in the shape of a brick, and a foot in length (or cubical pieces, each side measuring one foot), so that the proportion between the quantity of matter in the obelisk and that held by the boats could be determined. The boats were loaded to twice the weight of the obelisk, in order that they might go under it, its two ends resting on the two sides of the canal. Then, as the pieces of stone were taken out, the boats of course rose, and at last supported the obelisk and carried it off.”
This obelisk, according to the same authority, was eighty cubits high, or about 120 English feet[6], and was erected at Alexandria by Ptolemæus Philadelphus, the second Greek king of Egypt.
The obelisk in St. George’s Fields, London, will give some idea of the figure of one of these stupendous masses, though it is deficient in accurate proportions, insignificant in size, and placed on an ugly pedestal. The obelisk at Alexandria, commonly called Cleopatra’s Needle, stands first of all on a block of stone, which is in height about one-ninth of the whole height of the obelisk itself; and this block again rests on three rectangular plinths, placed one above another, the base of the lowest being larger than that of the stone above it, and this larger than the third; so that the three plinths form three steps on each of the four sides of the obelisk.
The following are the dimensions of Cleopatra’s Needle, as given by the French:--
Feet. Ins. Height of shaft from its base to the base of the pyramidal top 57 6-2/5 Ditto of pyramidal top 6 6-4/5 Height of pedestal on which obelisk stands 6 11 Whole height of the three steps 5 5-17/20 --------------- Whole height 76 6-1/20
This is not quite the whole height of the obelisk, as the French measures do not seem to include about 3 ft. ¼ in. of one side, of which they have given the dimensions.
It has been stated in the House of Commons (April 15th, 1832) that this obelisk is 64 feet long, which is exactly the height of the shaft according to the French measurement, and that it weighs 284 tons. We are not able to learn whether it is this obelisk that is to be brought to England, or another at Thebes, which is in a much better state of preservation. The Alexandrine obelisk is so much damaged by the atmosphere of the sea, particularly on the south side, that it is hardly worth bringing. Our climate would, perhaps, be still more unfavourable to its preservation.
It has been suggested to us that this Theban obelisk, if it be brought to England, should be set up in some advantageous position in the metropolis, where it might not only form a great ornament, but serve the useful purpose of a centre to measure roads from--a thing, the want of which is generally known and felt.
-----
Footnote 4:
Ammianus Marcellinus, xvii. 4.
Footnote 5:
Book xxxvi. chap. 9.
Footnote 6:
Only a rough approximation.
---------------------
CAUTION IN PROSPERITY.
Ming Tsong, an emperor of China, celebrated for his wisdom and prudence, was accustomed to say, “A state is to be governed with the care and constant attention that is required of a person managing a horse: I have often,” said he, “travelled on horseback over very rough and mountainous countries, and never got any hurt, always taking care to keep a steady rein; but in the smoothest plains, thinking the same precautions useless, and letting loose the reins, my horse has stumbled and put me in danger:--thus is it with government, for when it is in the most flourishing condition, the prince ought never to abate anything of his usual vigilance[7].”--And thus also, extending the application of this familiar but striking illustration to all mankind, we would say, is it with the private affairs of men of all stations, from the great lord to the labouring husbandman, from the wealthy merchant to the poor mechanic; and let every one keep a steady rein when all seems fair and even with him. He is pretty sure to do so, in the presence of danger and difficulty, when his faculties and energies are all kept awake, and generally strengthened in proportion to the difficulty to be overcome. Indeed let any man take a review of his past life, and he will find almost invariably that where he has most failed will be when he allowed himself to be lulled into security, when he suspected no crosses and was prepared with no caution, when in easy confidence he had dropped the reins on the neck of his horse who seemed to tread on a smooth sward or a Macadamized road--but tripped and fell! To take another illustration, it is the same with “ships that go down to the great deep.” It is not generally while the storm is raging, tremendous though that storm may be,--it is not while sailing along the perilous shore, or tracking her way through labyrinths of unknown islands, or the ice-mazes of the polar regions, that the ship is most liable to wreck or founder. No! the catalogue of shipwrecks and maritime calamities is swelled, for the most part, by such as were carelessly scudding over summer seas, with all sails set and all hands on board, joyful and confident;--by such as were sailing through channels and straits so familiar to them that the lead was left idle at the mainchains, and no precaution deemed necessary; by such as from the furthermost regions of the earth were within sight of their own country; by such, even, as the Royal George, were tranquilly anchored in their own ports, with all the crew given up to the enjoyment of that festivity or repose which nothing seemed likely to trouble.
-----
Footnote 7:
Duhalde.
---------------------
THE WEEK.
[Illustration: A portrait of a man wearing a coat with a high collar and a wig with a pigtail, presumably Adam Smith.]
June 5.--The anniversary of the birth of ADAM SMITH, the celebrated author of the ‘Wealth of Nations.’ He was born in 1723, at Kirkaldy, in the county of Fife, in Scotland, where his father, who died, however, a few months before he came into the world, was comptroller of the customs. He was of delicate health from his infancy: and in consequence, although he was put to school in his native town, he mixed but little in the out-of-door sports and exercises of his more robust companions; but during the hours he was not in school occupied himself for the most part with his books at home. In 1737 he was sent by his mother to the university of Glasgow, and three years after from thence to Baliol College, Oxford, on one of several exhibitions, or yearly allowances, to which Glasgow students are entitled while pursuing their studies at that college. The intention of Smith’s relations was that he should enter into orders, with the view of becoming a clergyman in the Scotch episcopal church. After remaining at Oxford, however, for above eight years, he gave up all thoughts of this distinction, and, returning to Scotland, introduced himself to public notice by delivering a course of lectures on rhetoric and the belles lettres in Edinburgh. The ability with which he acquitted himself in this attempt brought him the notice and the friendship of Lord Kames, and several other distinguished literary men who then resided in the Scottish capital; and in 1751 he was, through their influence and his own reputation, elected to the professorship of logic in the university of Glasgow, which he exchanged the year following for the chair of moral philosophy. He held this situation for about twelve years, during which time the eloquence and originality of his lectures rendered him the chief ornament of the seminary, and attracted crowds of students to his class from all quarters. His mode of lecturing was not to write out what he intended to say; but, after making himself completely master of his subject, to trust to the moment for expression; and in this way, we are told, he never failed to keep up the eager attention of his audience to the discussion of even the most difficult and abstract parts of his subject. In 1759 he gave to the world his first publication, the ‘Theory of Moral Sentiments.’ It was an exposition of the leading metaphysical views which he had been in the habit of addressing to his class, the design being to show that all our feelings and judgments with regard to the morality of different actions arise from, and are regulated by, the principle of sympathy, which accordingly he makes the fundamental characteristic of our mental constitution, and that without which we could not exist as social beings. This work, when it first appeared, was more applauded for its ingenuity and the subtlety of thought and beauty of expression by which many parts of it were marked, than for the conclusiveness of its reasonings; but still it brought to its author a large accession of admiration and fame. In 1763 Smith was induced to resign his professorship for the purpose of accompanying the Duke of Buccleuch on a tour to France and other parts of the Continent. He was absent from England about three years, the greater part of which was spent in Paris, where he made the acquaintance of all the distinguished literary men of that capital. After his return home, in 1766, he retired to his native town of Kirkaldy, and taking up his abode in the house of his mother, spent the next ten years in seclusion and hard study. The result was the publication, in the year 1776, of his ‘Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations,’ a work which may almost be said to have done for political economy what Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia did for physical science--laid for it, namely, that new foundation upon which all that has since been done has been reared. But of this great work we shall present our readers with a more detailed account in an early number, under the head of the ‘Library.’ They still, we believe, show at Kirkaldy the room in Smith’s house in which the ‘Wealth of Nations’ was written, with the impression left upon the wall by the head of the philosopher as he used to lean back in his chair, buried in profound thought. Though but a simple memorial, it is one of which his townsmen may well be proud. In 1778, through the interest of the Duke of Buccleuch, Smith was appointed to the lucrative office of commissioner of the customs, in consequence of which he removed with his mother to Edinburgh, and here he spent the remainder of his life in comfort and affluence. He died on the 8th of July, 1790, in the sixty-eighth year of his age.
June 6.--This is the birth-day of PETER CORNEILLE, the greatest of the French dramatists, who was born at Rouen in 1606. He was educated for the bar. A love adventure which befel him after he had practised for some years as an advocate in his native city first turned his thoughts to dramatic composition, and furnished him with the subject of his comedy entitled _Mélite_. The success of this piece, when it was exhibited at Paris, was so great that Corneille determined for the future to devote himself to writing for the stage. Several of his next efforts were also comedies; but in 1636 he produced his tragedy of _Medea_, and, soon after, that of the _Cid_, compositions in which his genius first displayed itself in its natural region and in its true grandeur. The ‘Cid’ was followed by a succession of other tragedies--among which those entitled _Horace_ and _Cinna_ are especially celebrated, and remain to this day unrivalled in the dramatic literature of his country. Corneille’s reward during his life-time, however, consisted of little else than his glory; for it is related that after the death of Colbert, a pension which that minister had bestowed upon him was withdrawn, though he was then poor, old, sickly, and dying, and it was only on the intercession of Boileau, who generously offered to resign his own pension on condition of Corneille’s being restored to him, that the king, Louis XIV., was moved to make him a present of 200 louis d’ors. Corneille, after he dedicated himself to the drama, exhibited a remarkable example of devotion to the path which he had chosen--studying, we are told, scarcely anything except what bore, or might be made to bear upon his favourite pursuit. This great man died on the 1st of October, 1684.
June 8.--The birth-day of JOHN DOMINIC CASSINI, a very celebrated astronomer, and the progenitor of a son and a grandson of nearly equal eminence in the same department of science. His family was noble, and he was born in Piedmont in the year 1635. The accidental perusal, while he was yet very young, of a work on astronomy, first inspired Cassini with a taste for that study; and so extraordinary was the progress he made that, in 1650, being then only about fifteen, he was, on the invitation of the Senate of Bologna, appointed to the professorship of mathematics in that university. Two years after this he observed with remarkable care, a comet which appeared and confirmed the opinion which Tycho Brahe had published long before respecting the nature of these bodies, proving, in opposition to the ancient doctrine, that they were not mere meteors. He also this same year resolved an astronomical problem which had baffled the ingenuity of the greatest of his predecessors and contemporaries, and which even Kepler had given up in despair. This brilliant success at so early an age was followed in the case of Cassini by a corresponding eminence in his maturer years. In 1669 he left Bologna for Paris on the earnest invitation of Louis XIV., and was immediately made a member of the Academy and Astronomer Royal. On the completion of the Royal Observatory, in 1671, he was appointed to preside over it. The rest of his life was spent, as the preceding part of it had been, in the service of his favourite science. Even the loss of his sight, some years before his death, although it terminated his actual observation of the heavenly bodies, failed to withdraw his mind from its wonted field of speculation. He died in 1712, at the age of seventy-seven, leaving many able works on astronomical and mathematical subjects.
---------------------
THE WEATHER.--No. 1.
No term is more familiar to every body than the term _air_. But if an uninstructed person were asked what the air was, his first answer would probably be, that it was nothing at all. This hand, he might say, which is now plunged in water, on being drawn out of the water is said to be lifted into the air--which means merely that there is nothing, or only vacancy, around it. In other words, he might say, the air is just the name that is given to the empty space, which is immediately over the surface of the earth.
A little reflection, however, or a question or two more, would probably raise some doubts as to the correctness of this philosophy. If the air be nothing, it might be asked, what is the wind? Or what is it, even when there is no wind, which makes very light substances wave or flutter on being swiftly drawn through the air, or, when they are merely dropped from the hand, detains them on their way to the ground? Or, to take another illustration from the commonest experience, who is there that has not seen a bladder distended or swollen with air? If the air be nothing, how comes a portion of it to present such palpable resistance to pressure, when thus confined?
The truth is, the air _in_ which we walk is as much a real and substantial part of our world as the earth _on_ which we walk. Empty space would no more do for our bodies to live in, than it would for our feet to tread upon. The atmosphere, that is, the case of air in which the solid globe is enveloped, is composed of matter as well as that solid globe itself. As the one is matter in a solid, so the other is matter in a fluid state. It is merely a thinner fluid than the water, which also rests upon and encompasses a great part of the earth; but as fishes exist and can only exist in their ocean of water, so do we exist and can only exist in our ocean of air.
The _weather_ is another term with which every body is familiar. But the weather is merely the state or condition of the air. Heat and cold, moisture and drought, wind and calm, all make themselves felt by us principally in and through this element. The study of the weather is but the study of the variations of the air.