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half a century has stood in the Place de la Concorde. In this fifty years it has seen the monarchy followed by
the empire, and that empire yield to the republic. But observe how little those forms of government—how
little those gieat men oi the earth are in the action of modern civilization. How has France been humbled? The
pride of domination and dynasty has fallen, but France—greater, richer, freer, more noble and prosperous than
ever stands the same, and this obelisk in the great place of Paris has seen only those little perturbations upon
the surface without one stone falling from another in the great structure of the French nation. The English
obelisk has not been there long enough to gather much experience about the prosperity of our great mother
country. It has so far witnessed only the agitations of the Irish Land League, though who can tell what those
may yet portend ? While we all feel solicitude and sympathy for her fate, we feel that as a matter of pride,
next to ourselves, the mother country of our republic should bear a high place among the nations of the world.
But you will say at once that in England any transposition of force—of stated power—would pass for little. It
has been a long time since the institutions of England depended upon its monarchy, and it has been a long time
since the monarchy has formed one of the vital institutions of the country. Now, here—what shall we say of
the prospects and assurances by which we may hope in our system of society, in our system of religion, in our
system of government, to outlast the obelisk, if the obelisk is to wait for our ruin? At the very time that
Thothmes was rearing these great monuments of his power, a feeble Hebrew infant, doomed to death from his
birth in expectation of the race becoming too formidable and too much oppressed, uttered a feeble cry from the
bulrushes when the daughter of Pharaoh disturbed his sleep, and Moses has come here long before this obelisk ;
Moses, the greatest law-giver that the world ever saw—Moses with his ten commandments—is in possession of
the churches, and of the schools, and of the literature, and of the morals of society. Egypt is represented not
only here but throughout our system of civilization by the cry of the infant Moses, heard throughout the whole
modern world. Twenty-two years after this obelisk was raised at Alexandria by the Romans to mark their
perpetual dominion, there was born in the neighboring and subject province of Palestine another infant, destined
also to death from His infancy—Christ the Saviour, a name before which all kings and rulers and conquerors, all
dynasties, all principalities and powers have fallen in obedience; and before this obelisk from Alexandria had
reached our shores we had heard the name of Christ, and the religion of Christ has been made the basis of our
civilization, of our national strength, of our national permanence. I do not deny that we may see slow corruption.
I do not deny the possibility of popular failure. I do not know but you may become weary of well-doing,
and scoff at Moses and the prophets, and fall away from the name of Jesus. Who indeed can tell what our
nation will do if any such perversity is possible of realization ; and yet this obelisk may ask us, ' Can you expect
to flourish forever ? Can you expect wealth to accumulate and man not decay ? Can you think that the soft
folds of luxury are to wrap themselves closer and closer around this nation and the pith and vigor of its manhood
know no decay? Can it creep over you and yet the nation know no decrepitude?' These are questions that
may be answered in the time of the obelisk, but not in ours."
At the conclusion of Mr. Evarts' address, Mayor Grace, who was seated just behind President Barnard, arose
to respond on behalf of the city, and, bowing to Mr. Evarts and the ladies upon the platform, said :
"SIR: On behalf of the city of New York it affords me great pleasure to receive from the Khedive of
Egypt, through the kindness of very public-spirited gentlemen, the great historical monument which now adorns
our Central Park. The generosity of the donor is extreme. He sends us to be placed in our midst a most
valued and valuable monument of an older era, as if to remind us of the instability of nations, of our own
youth, and of the greatness of the past. The civilization in the midst of which this monument was constructed
presents a most perfect contrast to that of our day and country. The social constitution of Egypt, based as it
was upon caste, has nothing in common with that newer notion which lies at the bottom of the modern state—
absolute equality of opportunity, absolute equality before the law. As time has proved the enemy of the old
social form and the friend of the new, it may be hoped that the stability which was wanting to the one may
not be so to the other. Strangely enough, that civilization whose bond was community of blood, and of which
the city was the parent and the centre,—the pre-Christian civilization,—was that which afforded the least stability
to the city, while that which regards universal liberty as the groundwork of society, and holds the city as only
a constituent part of a larger political whole, is the most favorable to municipal development. As our city grows
in its liberties it continues in the true spirit of conservatism to save all of value in the past, and so a historical
monument which will serve to bind us to antiquity as does this great obelisk—which has been safely brought
here only by the exercise of the greatest ingenuity and engineering skill—is something of which the city of New
York should be, and, I assure you, will be proud."
Mr. A. S. Sullivan then rose to present the medals struck in commemoration of the occasion. " On behalf of
the American Numismatic and Archaeological Society of New York," he said, " I have now to fulfil a commission
without which our proceedings would almost fail to express in rounded proportions the significance, the utility,
and the beauty of these stately ceremonies. Yonder cuts the Western sky a memorial stone which has hitherto
been a beacon under an Eastern sky. While, as I speak, its shadow, from the sinking sun, moves toward us, it
seems to people this museum, from the dim past of the Orient, with weird myths and mysteries and splendid
legends. That monolith was an emblem of Deity. The kings and priests who set it up have been mummies
for thirty centuries, and their sun-worship is giving place to the adoration of the ^ of the
 
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