That the abuse might have variety, as well as vigour, a very learned Theban broke in with the remark that there was no need, after all, to make such a stir about the matter. The much-bruited marbles were of little value, whether in England or in Greece. If Lord Elgin was, indeed, a spoiler, he was also an ignoramus. His bepraised sculptures, instead of belonging to the age of Pericles, belonged, at earliest, to that of Hadrian; far from bearing traces of the hand of Phidias, they were, at best, mere ‘architectonic sculptures, the work of many different persons, some of whom would not have been entitled to the rank of artists, even in a much less cultivated and fastidious age.... Phidias did not work in marble at all.’ These oracular sentences, and many more of a like cast, were given to the world under the sanction of the ‘Society of Dilettanti.’
The equanimity which had stood so many severer tests did not desert its possessor under a tempest of angry words. When set at liberty, after a long detention in France, he resumed his journey. On his eventual arrival in England, in 1806, he brought with him a valuable collection of gems and medals, gathered at Constantinople. He also brought some valuable counsels as to the mode in which he might best make the Athenian Marbles useful to the progress of art, obtained in Rome.
Lord Elgin’s Conference with Canova.
For, at Rome, he had been enabled to show a sample of his acquisitions to a man who was something more than a dilettante. ‘These,’ said Canova, ‘are the works of the ablest artists the world has seen.’
When consulted on the point whether restoration should, in any instance, be attempted, the reply of the great Italian sculptor was in these words: ‘The Parthenon Marbles have never been retouched. It would be sacrilege in me—sacrilege in any man—to put a chisel on them.’
Lord Elgin came to England with the intention of offering his whole Collection to the British Government, unconditionally. He was ready to forget the short-sightedness with which his proposal of 1799 had been met. He was prepared to trust to the liberality of Parliament, and to the force of public opinion, for the reimbursement of his outlay, and the fair reward of his toil. The ambassador was not in a position to sacrifice the large sums of money he had spent. He could not afford the proud joy of giving to Britain, entirely at his own cost, a boon such as no man, before him, had had the power of giving. There were conflicting duties lying upon him, such as are not to be put aside. That British artists—in one way or another—should profit by the grand exemplars of art which he had saved from Turkish musquetry and the Turkish lime-kilns, was the one thing towards which his face was set.
When first imprisoned in France, Lord Elgin did actually send a direction to England that his Collection should be made over, unconditionally, to the British Government. This order was sent, to guard against the possible effect of any casualty that might happen during his detention, the duration of which was then very problematical. He reached England, however, before the instruction had been carried into effect. In the mean time, the controversy about the real value of the Marbles, as well as that which impugned the Collector’s right to remove them from Athens, had arisen, and had excited public attention. It became important to elicit an enlightened opinion on those points, before raising the question how the sculpture should be finally disposed of.
The ignorance of essential facts—which alone made such reproaches[[64]] as those I have just quoted possible from a man devoid of malice, and gifted with genius—was a far less stubborn obstacle in Lord Elgin’s intended path than was the one-sided learning (one-sided as far as true art and its appreciation are concerned) which dictated the sneering utterances of some among the ‘Dilettanti.’ A Byron, by his nature, is open to conviction, sooner or later, in his own despite. A connoisseur, when narrow and scornful, is above reason. And he is eminently reproductive.
The action of the Trustees of the British Museum on the Towneley Bequest. 1805–1806.
But for this stumbling-block in the path, the time of Lord Elgin’s return to England would have been eminently favourable for realising his plans in their fulness.