Historians expatiate greatly on the magnificent edifices and other works; but it is not easy to say whether the complaints and murmurs raised against him were ill-founded or not. According to Cicero, such edifices and other works only are worthy of admiration as are of use to the public, as aqueducts, city walls, citadels, arsenals, sea-ports; and to these must be added the work, made by Pericles, to join Athens to the port of Piræus.
Mons. de La Martine speaks of the only two figures that now adorn the Parthenon thus:—"At the Parthenon there remain only the two figures of Mars and Venus, half crushed by two enormous fragments of cornice, which have glided over their heads; but these two figures are to me worth more than all I have seen in sculpture in my life. They live as no other canvas or marble has ever lived. One feels that the chisel of Phidias trembled, burned in his hand, when these sublime figures started into being under his fingers."
The following observations in regard to colour are by Mr. Williams:—"The Parthenon, in its present corroded state, impresses the mind with the idea of its thousands of years. The purity of marble has disappeared; but still the eye is charmed with the varied livery of time. The western front is rich in golden hues, and seems as if it had absorbed the evening beams[85]; little white appears, except the tympanum and part of the entablature. But the brightest orange colour, and grey and sulphury hues, combine in sweetest harmony. The noble shafts of the huge columns are uniformly toned with yellow, of a brownish cast, admitting here and there a little grey. Casting the eye to the inner cell, we see dark hues of olive mixed with various tints, adorning the existing frieze and pillars; and these, opposed to brilliant white, afford a point and power of expression, which never fails to please."
Sir J. C. Hobhouse says, Lord Elgin's injuries were these; the taking off the metopes, the statue over the theatre of Bacchus, and the statues of the west pediment of the Parthenon; and the carrying away one of the Caryatides, and the finest of the columns of the Erectheum. "No other," continues Sir John, "comes, I believe, within the limits of censure—no other marbles were detached."
The monuments, now called the Elgin marbles, were chiefly obtained from the Erectheum, the Propylæa, and the Parthenon, more especially the last. We must here give room to the observations, vindicative of this proceeding:—"Perhaps one of the most judicious measures of government, with reference to the advancement of the arts in this country, was the purchase of these remains. We may go farther, and add, that the removal of them from Athens, where their destruction was daily going forward, to place them where their merits would be appreciated, and their decay suspended, was not only a justifiable act, but one which deserves the gratitude of England and of the civilised world. The decay of the Athenian monuments may be attributed to various causes. 'Fire and the barbarian' have both done their work. Athens has seen many masters. The Romans were too refined to destroy the monuments of art: but the Goths had a long period of spoliation; and then came the Turks, at once proud and ignorant, despising what they could not understand. The Acropolis became a garrison in their hands, and thus, in 1687, it was bombarded by the Venetians, whose heavy guns were directed against the porticoes and colonnades of the ancient temples. But the Turks still continued to hold their conquests; and the business of demolition went steadily on for another century and a half. Many travellers who visited Athens about a hundred years ago, and even much later, describe monuments of sculpture which now have no existence. The Turks pounded the marble into dust to make lime; one traveller after another continued to remove a fragment. The museums of Egypt were successively adorned with these relics; at last, when, as column after column fell, the remains of Athens were becoming less and less worthy of notice, covered in the dust, or carted away to be broken up for building, Lord Elgin, who had been ambassador at Constantinople in 1799, obtained, in 1801, an authority from the Turkish government, called a firmaun, which eventually enabled the British nation to possess the most valuable of the sculptures of which any portion was left. The authority thus granted empowered Lord Elgin to fix scaffolding around the ancient temple of the Idols 'to mould the ornamental and visible figures thereon in plaster and gypsum;' and, subsequently, 'to take away any pieces of stone with old inscriptions or figures thereon.' For several years the intentions of Lord Elgin were carried into effect at his private risk, and at a cost which is stated to have amounted to 74,000l, including the interest of money. In 1816, the entire collection was purchased of Lord Elgin by act of parliament for 35,000l. It is unnecessary for us to go into the controversy, whether it was just to remove these relics from their original seats. Had the Greeks been able to preserve them, there can be no doubt of the injustice of such an act. The probability is, that if foreign governments had not done what Lord Elgin did as an individual, there would not have been a fragment left at this day to exhibit the grandeur of the Grecian art as practised by Phidias. The British nation, by the purchase of these monuments, has secured a possession of inestimable value[86]."
From these observations, it would appear that the spoliation of the Parthenon may be vindicated on the ground, that neither the Turks nor the citizens cared any thing about them, and that if they had not been taken away, they would, in a short time, have been destroyed. Respectable testimony, however, is opposed to this: most travellers have inveighed against the spoliation; and two, highly qualified, have given a very different account from what the above statement implies. These are Dr. Clarke and Mr. Dodwell. We shall select the testimony of the latter in preference to that of Dr. Clarke, only because he was at Athens at the very time in which the spoliation was going on. "During my first tour to Greece," says he, "I had the inexpressible mortification of being present when the Parthenon was despoiled of its finest sculpture, and when some of its architectural members were thrown to the ground." * * * "It is, indeed, impossible to suppress the feelings of regret which must arise in the breast of every traveller, who has seen these temples before and since their late dilapidation! Nor have I any hesitation in declaring, that the Athenians in general, nay, even the Turks themselves, did lament the ruin that was committed; and loudly and openly blamed their sovereign for the permission he had granted! I was on the spot at the time, and had an opportunity of observing, and, indeed, of participating, in the sentiment of indignation, which such conduct universally inspired. The whole proceeding was so unpopular in Athens, that it was necessary to pay the labourers more than their usual profits, before any one could be prevailed upon to assist in this work of profanation."
"Such rapacity is a crime against all ages and all generations," says Mr. Eustace; "it deprives the past of the trophies of their genius and the title-deeds of their fame; the present of the strongest inducements to exertion, the noblest exhibitions that curiosity can contemplate; and the future of the master-pieces of art, the models of imitation. To guard against the repetition of such depredations is the wish of every man of genius, the duty of every man in power, and the common interest of every civilised nation."
"That the Elgin marbles will contribute to the improvement of art in England," says Mr. Williams, "cannot be doubted. They must, certainly, open the eyes of the British artists, and prove that the true and only road to simplicity and beauty is the study of nature. But had we a right to diminish the interest of Athens for selfish motives, and prevent successive generations of other nations from seeing those admirable structures? The temple of Minerva was spared as a beacon to the world, to direct it to the knowledge of purity and of taste. What can we say to the disappointed traveller, who is now deprived of the rich satisfaction that would have compensated his travel and his toil? It will be little consolation to him to say, he may find the sculpture of the Parthenon in England[87]."