WHEN Napoleon wished to carry out an ambitious tree-planting programme for Rome, he was firmly reminded by the sculptor Canova that ‘in Rome, we do not plant trees, we plant obelisks’. The planting of obelisks in Europe is a 2,000-year-old habit, started by the Emperor Augustus in his lust for conquest and self-commemoration.
In the year 10BC, Augustus ordered the removal of two obelisks, the oldest of which was then 1,300 years old, to Rome. These first obelisks were the ultimate war trophies, a physical celebration of the Roman conquest of Egypt. They demonstrated geopolitical control of the Eastern Mediterranean and, as importantly, a source of grain to feed Rome’s million-plus population.
The arrival of the obelisks in Rome was an unequivocal statement that Rome had now superseded the world’s longest-enduring civilisation. The moving of an obelisk is a tricky business. Stone is strong in compression and weak in tension: an upright obelisk is sturdy, an obelisk at any other angle is likely to crack or shatter. Then there is their huge weight—each of Augustus’s two obelisks weighed more than 200 tons. Special ships had to be constructed to carry the monoliths across the Mediterranean and then, with little more than wooden rollers, ropes, pulleys and brute manpower, the obelisks were taken from Ostia to Rome and hauled upright. The whole operation was a testimony to Roman skill and determination. One of the obelisks was installed to decorate the central reservation of the great stadium the Circus Maximus; the other became the gnomon or hour indicator of a huge sundial that, thanks to Rome’s soggy low ground, subsided and became hopelessly inaccurate within 30 years.
Augustus’s successors got the obelisk habit, too, bringing more back from Egypt to adorn temples and stadia. The centuries after the fall of Rome, the ruination of the city and its reduction to a small urban core and an abandoned hinterland were bad news for the obelisks, which fell and were often buried under the rubble of once grand buildings and the rising urban ground level.
The Vatican obelisk, 75ft of red granite kidnapped from the sacred Egyptian site of Heliopolis, was the only one to remain standing. Legends grew around it: the golden ball on its pinnacle was reputed to contain the ashes of Julius Caesar and it was thought that the obelisk’s survival was thanks to the fact that it had witnessed the martyrdom of Saint Peter. In 1586, the great counter- Reformation Pope, Sixtus V (reigned 1585–90) commanded the movement of the Vatican obelisk to the front of St Peter’s Basilica, where it remains today (Fig 2).
Continue reading your story on the app
Continue reading your story in the magazine
Who killed cock robin?
Referred to by Chaucer as ‘Robert redbreast’ and long a cheerful symbol of Christmas, the sweet-songed robin is so combative it will attack its own reflection, reveals Ian Morton
Remembrance through rose-tinted glass
Hauntingly beautiful, stained-glass scenes keep the memory of our Fallen alive in glorious technicolour. Andrew Green visits country churches to seek them out
Let's talk turkey
They’re easy to rear, they’re friendly and they needn’t only be for Christmas. Kate Green talks to turkey experts, who explain why we should be eating the heritage breeds
Oh sing, choirs of angels
Loosely translated as ‘when the cock crows at dawn’, Plygain carol services have been held in Welsh churches on Christmas Day since the 13th century, as Aeneas Dennison reports
Riches not measured in coin
The Cathedral of St Mary and St Ethelbert, Hereford This year marks the 700th anniversary of the canonization of Thomas Cantilupe, Bishop of Hereford. John Goodall looks at the story of this building and the way it was shaped by a remarkable figure
Rockin' around the Christmas tree
Bombarded as we are in the preceding weeks, for many, it is the ritual choosing and dressing of the tree that marks the start of Christmas, says Jack Watkins
Born to be wild
Once widespread across the British Isles, there are now fewer than 100 pure Scottish wildcats left. Joe Gibbs considers whether curiosity or interbreeding killed the ‘Highland tiger’
Christmas comes but once a year
And when it does, it (mostly) brings good cheer, although some professions certainly enjoy it more than others
A High Road To Clean Energy
THE path to ending fossil-fuel emissions by 2050 is ‘ambitious and affordable’, according to a report published last week.
Because You're Mine, I Walk The Line
Crunching across winter stubble on a frosty December morning, John Lewis-Stempel gives thanks for the wildlife sustained by the old millet stalks and endeavors to train his labrador to walk to heel, aided by a handful of cheese
Tanner Novlan (Finn, B&B)
TAKE FIVE
EMPIRE OF SIN
A new boss is in town to take over the forgotten gangster sim genre
MODERN-DAY OLYMPIA ANABOLIC STACK VS. THE ‘90S
Purists wish to trace modern-day bodybuilding to the sport’s roots of the 1960s, but it could easily be argued that modern bodybuilding branched away from classic bodybuilding in the 1990s, deviating to extremes in size and form that bring to mind caricatures or comic book drawings.
TAKE FIVE
Christel Khalil (Lily, Y&R)
Paleoracism
With the nation and much of the western world contending with the fallout of the chronic problem of racism, this is as good a time as any to take a look at the issue within the world of vertebrate paleontology.
IN THE REIGN OF THE SUN KINGS
Old Kingdom pharaohs faced a reckoning that reshaped Egypt’s balance of power
THE PRINCESS AND THE BABY
A long time ago in Egypt, there was a young Hebrew girl named Miriam. Her family had just had a beautiful baby boy. There was a big problem, though. The Pharaoh of Egypt had issued a decree that all Hebrew baby boys be killed to decrease the population of the Hebrew people, who were enslaved by the Egyptians.
Praise for the Pomegranate
The ancient fruit with modern influence
From Italy to New York
2 flights and 5 angels got me home
RESISTING ROME
How a Celtic tribe fought to defend their Iberian homeland against the emperor’s legions