Before the publication of Description de l’Egypte after Napoleon’s ‘great scientific and military expedition’ of 1798, only a handful of bold, religious men traveled to Egypt in search of ancient Coptic manuscripts. Few scholars or pilgrims passing through Egypt stopped to look at ruins on their way to and from the Holy Land. Apart from mummies, which were at a premium in Europe, they showed little enthusiasm for Pharaonic artifacts.

The publication of Description de l’Egypte’s 23 massive volumes over nearly 20 years directed the world’s attention to ancient Egypt and helped spark the modern study of the nation’s ancient history. Muhammad Ali’s ‘open door policy’ quickly put Pharaonic heritage to the fore.

Travelers flocked to the Valley of the Nile in search of the newly discovered remnants of ancient civilization. It did not take long for them to start planning a massive exportation of its monuments to their home countries, earning themselves both fortunes and reputations in the process.

They encountered little resistance in these early years. The Pasha did not seem aware of the value of Egypt’s heritage; he only marveled at the immense quantity of stones that had been quarried to build the temples. He believed the stones remained, only to be used by Ali, to expedite the construction of his factories.

Why then, should visitors have felt guilty about removing statues, sarcophagi and bits of pottery? They didn’t, especially since it was relatively easy to obtain digging concessions. Their only worries had to do with the fierce competition in the field and the difficulties of transporting the more massive monuments from their original sites to Alexandria, where they were loaded onto ships and whisked away to Paris, London, Berlin, Milan or Turin.

His determination provoked several violent incidents.He was beaten, stabbed, jailed, but still would not give up.

Under the influence of Rifaa El-Tahtawi (1801-1873), Muhammad Ali did sign an ordinance forbidding the removal of antiquities from Egypt. Ali ordered the fellahin to provide him with 100 kg of stone per cultivated feddan in order to speed up the construction of numerous factories that were essential for the modernization of the country. This latter requirement resulted in the demolition of countless temples, particularly around ancient Thebes. Furthermore, the Pasha, to curry favor with European powers, was receptive to the demands of foreign missions for permissions to search for antiquities.

Cover of The Oriental Album by Prisse d’Avennes

Many archaeologists and scholars who had come to study and record the monuments with no intention of personal gain or glory, lost all scruples when they witnessed the annihilation of many priceless remains. Others became obsessed with the necessity of creating a pictorial archive of sorts that documented extant monuments before they were blown to smithereens by the charges of gun powder ignited by the fellahin demolition squads.

Among the aforementioned archaeologists was John Gardner Wilkinson (1797-1875), author of Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians and Handbook for Travellers in Egypt. Wilkinson asked Prisse d’Avennes, another ancient Egyptian history enthusiast, to provide him with information “on the demolitions taking place at Karnak” and asked him “to copy, if there still is time, the ancient Pharaohs’ legends that are said to cover the old stones used in these monuments.”

D’Avennes was a multitalented man whose unconventional path led him to dedicate his life to discovering and painstakingly recording Egyptian architectural treasures, both Pharaonic and Islamic. An architect and engineer by training, he was hired by Muhammad Ali to contribute his expertise to the Pasha’s grand modernization program. Unfortunately, his independent character inconvenienced several powerful figures around the Pasha. He was thus relegated to the post of tutor to the children of Ibrahim, Muhammad Ali’s oldest son. He disliked the job, and so resigned and proceeded toward Upper Egypt without the advantages of vice-regal protection. In 1838, he established an observation post in the vicinity of the Temple of Abu Simbel and settled for a life of small skirmishes with minor government officials.

By this time d’Avennes had a mission: He wanted to save the stones of Karnak from being used to build the Pasha’s saltpeter factory. His determination provoked several violent incidents. He was beaten, stabbed and jailed, but still would not give up. One of his young assistants, George Lloyd de Beynestyn, having been assailed by a fellah, used the butt of his gun in self-defense, but accidentally shot himself instead. Alone, d’Avennes resolved to work harder, although historians hint at the immense depression that followed the death of this special friend.

But d’Avennes had little time to dwell on his personal losses. Soon after the death of de Beynestyn, he learned of the arrival of the Prussian archaeological mission led by Lepsius and suspected that the worst devastation was still to come.

During his numerous forays, d’Avennes discovered Toutmes III’s Hall of Ancestors (also known as Hall of the Kings of Karnak), a chronological monument as important as the famous Turin Papyrus and the two Tables of Abydos. Lepsius, thought d’Avennes, would surely realize the value of the memorial, and decided he preferred to see it taken to Paris rather than Berlin.

However, he had no financial means and no official permission to remove the monument, let alone transport it to France on his own. This is nevertheless what he decided to do. With the help of 20 faithful fellahin, he began paring the façades of the stones to their inner surfaces, which were covered in figures and cartouches. Since he was working in secret, he could only proceed during moonless nights. It took him 18 months to complete his task. D’Avennes had just finished packing and hiding his precious reliefs, when the police arrived to confiscate his treasure.

After a month of procrastination, d’Avennes decided to rely on the ‘universally acknowledged way of doing business in the Orient’— he bribed the policemen who were guarding the treasure and managed, finally, to load his 27 crates of antiquities onto his vessel. He was ready to sail down the Nile to Cairo.

D’Avennes accompanied his booty on its voyage, according to his son’s memoirs. Having reached Beni Hassan, d’Avennes’ boat encountered the Prussian mission sailing toward Luxor. He invited Lepsius to his boat and, while drinking coffee, the latter explained that he had an order from the Pasha to remove the Hall of the Ancestors of Toutmes III, which had been donated by the Pasha to the Prussian government. D’Avennes smiled benignly and was careful not to inform Lepsius that he was sitting on one of the crates containing the monument.

In Cairo, the French ambassador refused to store the crates under French protection, and d’Avennes had no choice but to place them as cargo in the Egyptian Government Stores. Meanwhile, the British had learned of the crates’ content and tried to negotiate a deal with d’Avennes, offering him 100,000 francs for his find. D’Avennes was not interested in the money, although he had been poor all his life. He appealed to the authorities in France and, after a few months of heated discussions, obtained permission to load the famous crates labeled “objects of natural history destined for the Musée de Paris” on a ship sailing for the port of Toulon.

D’Avennes was decorated with the Légion d’Honneur, the only reward he ever reaped for his efforts. et