The Emperor of Austria ascending the Great Pyramid

The painting depicts Franz Joseph not as a sovereign in ceremonial attire, but as a tourist subjected to the same physical demands as other visitors. Simpson’s choice to focus on the emperor being hauled up the pyramid underscores the absurdity of colonial-era tourism, where even royalty relied on local labor to access ancient monuments. The image subtly critiques the performative nature of imperial travel in the 19th century.

Simpson employed loose, fluid watercolour washes to convey movement and texture, capturing the dust of the desert and the strain of the guides. His brushwork is brisk yet precise, reflecting his background in lithography and rapid sketching for illustrated newspapers. The composition directs attention to the emperor’s awkward posture and the physical exertion of the men, emphasizing narrative over idealization.

Created during Simpson’s assignment for the Illustrated London News, the watercolour was made in November 1869, coinciding with the Suez Canal’s inauguration. Simpson, employed as a special artist since 1866, documented global events with speed and observational acuity. The work likely originated as a personal sketch, later refined into a finished piece, possibly for private circulation or as preparatory material for publication.

The Suez Canal’s opening marked a shift in global travel, rendering the traditional overland route through Egypt obsolete. Yet, as Simpson observed, the pyramid remained a destination for European elites seeking exotic spectacle. The practice of hiring local men to carry visitors to the summit was common, reflecting both economic necessity and entrenched power dynamics between tourists and the Egyptian workforce.

Simpson’s work represents a transitional moment in visual journalism, where hand-drawn illustrations still conveyed news before photography became dominant. His unvarnished depiction of imperial figures in mundane, even undignified, situations offered a rare counterpoint to official imagery. The watercolour endures as a quiet testament to the human labor underpinning 19th-century tourism and imperial spectacle.