Stealing Athena

by Karen Essex

  “You are extremely wise, Eggy. And I am naïve, I know. But I am grieved by the way smallpox sweeps through the population here. If in a small way I could help prevent the pain of mothers’ having to watch their children be carried off by the reapers of the dead, I would surely do it.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Shall we catch a few more winks?” she asked. The nightmare had exhausted her, and the sunlight was not yet peeking through the drapery.

  “I’m afraid that there will be no more sleep for me. I received a letter yesterday that may interrupt my slumber for a time to come.” He said this with closed eyes, as if opening them would force him to face some fact that he had not yet disclosed to Mary. “Napoleon is with his fleet at Toulon. Information gathered by our people is leading us to believe that he is going to carry out his threat to attack Greece. He’s always intended it.”

  Mary felt a tightening in her middle. It seemed that war was moving closer. “What does that mean for us? Is Turkey next? Eggy, we must leave this place. It won’t be safe. At least let us send the baby home with my parents.”

  “What’s got into you, Poll?”

  “I suppose that motherhood has made me skittish.”

  “Yes, what happened to the girl who cheered at giving chase to French gunboats?” Elgin asked as if he was nostalgic for the adventurous girl he’d married.

  She knew why she was suddenly full of fears and caution. Childbirth had been a nasty introduction to suffering in an otherwise blessed life. She could not deny the ominous feelings that had suddenly descended upon her dream life and her waking life. Better to be safe than sorry in these matters. If she was receiving omens, what good would it do to ignore them?

  “No need to panic,” Elgin said. “I’ve been instructed to send someone to Greece to caution the Turkish pashas who are ruling the provinces against welcoming or negotiating with the French. You know how those people are. A few coins changing hands, and all our hard work to form an alliance with the Ottomans will be lost. Morier would be good, but he’s tied up in Egypt. I believe I shall send Hunt.”

  “As long as his skills as an envoy exceed those as a minister. Do not let him sermonize to the pashas, Eggy, or all of Greece will soon be speaking French!”

  Elgin allowed himself a tiny smile. He had finally opened his eyes, but Mary did not like the heated look coming from them.

  “You realize, don’t you, that we must do anything we can to hurry along the Athens project? If Napoleon lands on Attic soil, all will be lost. Our artists on the Acropolis will be thrown out or imprisoned, or even killed. The French will usurp their work, down to the last drawing. All that they’ve amassed, all that they’ve done, all that we’ve worked for and—my God, Mary—paid for with our own precious funds! All my efforts will have been in vain. We cannot allow that to happen.”

  “But what more can we do?” She had not yet informed Elgin of the outcome of her dispute with her parents over money.

  “You know what we must do. While your parents are here, you must make them see the urgency. Do they not realize what is at stake?”

  “I have spoken with my parents at length. They are not disposed to providing further financial aid,” Mary explained.

  “But that’s impossible,” Elgin sputtered. “Were you emphatic with them? Did you not explain our predicament?”

  “I believe that I was articulate in laying out our cause. They, on the other hand, are more concerned over your mismanagement of funds domestically.”

  She’d been waiting for the right moment to confront him over the Broomhall expenses. The idea of losing the family home had been eating away at her.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My parents are afraid that you are soon to lose Broomhall through needless extravagance.”

  He looked at her suspiciously. “Where would they get such an idea?”

  “Surely you do not think that your own wife is telling tales about you? They have heard it from your creditors and bankers in Edinburgh. Apparently, all of Scotland has been aware of this pending disaster—everyone, save your wife.”

  She expected Elgin to go into a sputtering fit. Instead, he composed himself. “I do wish that your parents and my wife would not listen to idle gossip.”

  “They are not merely listening to gossip! They are looking at invoices!” Now she was the one sputtering.

  “Mary, do you not apprehend our position? Do you not see the esteem in which I will be held after our service here? General Abercrombie’s war effort will succeed because of our assistance. We, you and I, will be instrumental in the English defeat of Napoleon.”

  “How do you know that the English will defeat Napoleon?”

  Elgin sat up tall, his hand at his breast as if he were making a speech to a foreign dignitary. “Because we are a superior culture, with discipline and morality far above those of the French. It is obvious, and it is unpatriotic to suggest otherwise. When that day of victory comes, and when the casts and drawings and artifacts from Greece are safe in England, we shall be honored for all our contributions to the nation.” He got out of bed and stood over his wife with his hands on his hips. “Do you not see that we will require a family seat commensurate with our position? Should we return in honor and glory to live in some shabby rented place? Is that what you want for yourself and for your children? Is that the home that those who nobly serve the king deserve?”

  Mary sat quietly. Once again, she had neglected to believe in her husband. Of course Elgin had thought through all of her parents’ possible objections and had made his decision based on sound judgment and faith in himself and in the United Kingdom whose interests he had been appointed to support and to represent. Yet she did not see how she could present his position again to her father. The man had already made up his mind. Another rousing speech from her would not change it.

  “But you must understand my parents’ view. Father has amassed his fortune through cautious management of money, not through grand acts of patriotism. He is a pragmatist.”

  “Mary, Hunt will need to take bags of money with him to Greece. Only money buys alliance with the pashas. In addition to that, we must redouble the effort on the Acropolis. Whatever it takes. The Turks do not value one ancient stone. They will trade the entire Parthenon to the French for mere trinkets—that is, if the French do not simply take it from them first.”

  Apparently, Mary did not respond quickly enough, for he added, “Honestly. You do agree with me, do you not? We have come too far to fail now.”

  “Then you must speak to my father directly. You must impress upon him that you are still a young man, and a reputation made for your deeds at this juncture will set you up for life in His Majesty’s eyes.” After all, it was not just Elgin’s future anymore, but hers as well, and that of the Nisbets’ beloved little grandson.

  “I shall speak to your father, Mary, but I have a better idea. Let’s send them to Athens while Hunt is there. Let them tour Greece and see firsthand the magnificence of the treasures. I believe that no man, not even your father, could be exposed to such grandeur and not wish to participate in this project. There is something about these artifacts. Something in their perfection that makes men want to possess them.”

  “You don’t understand my father,” she said. “He considers all of this superfluous to the necessities of life. He has no patience for romance or excess.”

  “I may not understand your father, but you don’t understand the ambitions of men,” he replied. “We are all the same beneath the surface when it comes to having a brush with glory. You talk with your mother. Leave your father to me.”

  THE CAPITAN PASHA NOTICED that Mary’s spirits had sunken after the departure of her parents, and told her he was concerned over her sad countenance. He invited Lord and Lady Elgin to his home for dinner, sending in addition a cryptic message that he wished to present them with a fine bit of news. They speculated upon what it might be: Was he planning to present some elaborate gift
, wishing to see the looks upon their faces? He had recently given Elgin a ship, outfitted as elegantly as any sea vessel in the world, so that Elgin might tour the territories of the Ottomans. How he could top that, Mary did not know. They’d received jewels, horses, saddles, priceless fabrics and rugs, spices from the East, and, most of all, the pasha’s loyalty and friendship. Further gifts were not necessary, as far as Mary was concerned. Every time the pasha presented her with yet another extravagance, her feminine lust for finery was aroused, but at the same time, her Scottish sensibilities warned that she should limit her acceptance of such things. Or at least refrain from unbridled delight.

  But this evening, after dinner had been eaten and coffee was served, the pasha did not come forth with gifts, but announced that the Sultana Valida, the mother of the Sultan and traditionally the most powerful woman in the empire, had been asking questions about the much-discussed Lady Elgin.

  “Delightful!” Elgin said. “Mary, the Sultana has jurisdiction over the Acropolis.” He turned to the Capitan Pasha. “You know how important my Athens project is to me, Capitan?”

  “The Sultana is going to invite Lady Elgin to her quarters in the palace for a private audience,” the pasha said. “She has heard tales for over one year now, and she wishes to see who is this lady who has captured the heart of her city. I wanted to give you some warning, Lady Elgin. I know how ladies like to prepare for these occasions in terms of costume and adornment.”

  “Is it customary for the mother of the Sultan to invite a foreign ambassadress into her home?” Elgin asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Lady Elgin will be the first European woman to attend upon the Sultana in the harem,” the pasha said, smiling at Mary as if she were his own protégée. “It is the highest honor she can confer upon you, or upon any lady, for that matter.”

  Later in the evening, when Mary and Elgin were alone again, he expressed his delight at the Valida’s interest in his wife.

  “The more admiration you acquire, the more we are assured of success in Athens. Time is of the essence now, Mary. My term is coming to an end. We must finish up, and quickly.”

  “Of course,” Mary said. She tried to say it sweetly, but truly, she was annoyed at how her every resource and asset now seemed to be in the service of Elgin’s ambitions on the Acropolis. “But I’ve been thinking. I believe I will use the opportunity of meeting the Valida to present the idea of the vaccine.”

  “We’ve gone over this,” Elgin said. “Please do not lose sight of what is most important. A misstep with this vaccine business could throw everything into turmoil. The precious remains of the Athens of Pericles are at stake.”

  Elgin had not had very much to drink this evening, so Mary felt that she could challenge him in a light spirit. “I see that you do not follow the sentiments of Pericles, despite your great love for all that he built.”

  “What do you mean, Mary?”

  Despite his sobriety, he had a defensive look on his face. Nonetheless she continued. “I have finished reading Plutarch’s Life of Pericles. Do your recall what Pericles said in his famous funeral oration? That the greatest of women is she who is least talked of among men, whether for good or for bad? Apparently, all of Constantinople is talking about your wife to the extent that I have attracted the attention of the Sultan’s mother, and you do not seem to mind.”

  “But all of Athens and beyond talked about Pericles’ wife, or concubine, or courtesan, or whatever you wish to call Aspasia. Perhaps he did not mean what he said,” Elgin replied.

  “But Aspasia’s renown eventually caused problems for Pericles. He was accused of starting a war at her behest. I wonder, has it always been unsafe for a woman to have a reputation of any kind? Was that what Pericles’ warning was about?”

  She thought of Emma Hamilton—That Hamilton Woman. Queen Charlotte was less discussed in society than Mrs. Hamilton. But as much gossip as she garnered, no one ever mentioned the good deeds that Sir William had described to the Elgins. Apparently, those were kept a secret, while the elements of her life that should have been kept secret were presented in periodicals and salons the Continent over for public consumption. It was a paradox.

  “It appears to me that our sex is only discussed publicly in a derogatory manner. The respectable woman is doomed to ano-nym-ity.”

  “Good God, you women today—European women, in any case—have us men over the barrel, don’t you? I suppose that a man such as Pericles had to appear to be the leader in his own home if he wished to be the leader of Athens. As do I, even if I am not.”

  “You flatter me,” Mary said. “I am hardly the leader of this household, or this embassy, or this ambassador, for that matter.”

  “We shall try to keep it that way for as long as possible, shan’t we? Despite all the attentions that intrude from the outside?”

  “I think we shall,” she said.

  “Do not forget, my Poll, that though Pericles was allegedly in love with this Aspasia, the Athenian poets called her the dog-eyed whore. We shall have to withdraw you from all this public attention before things get quite out of hand.”

  “Yes,” Mary agreed. “That would be a very good idea.”

  She wanted to ask him just where that line would be drawn, and how many of his ambitions would have to be fulfilled before he began to consider her reputation, but Elgin was yawning. Instead of pursuing that line of thinking, she kissed his cheek and turned on her side to go to sleep.

  But sleep did not come, and Mary knew that it would not. She hadn’t slept in three days, ever since she began to suspect that she was pregnant again. Her monthly was now ten days late, and if her body wasn’t telling her that she was with child, her intuition was sending the signal. She knew, deep inside, that a tiny seed had been planted and was growing. How she knew this, she could not say. While she hadn’t had a direct premonition, she did feel that certain womanly knowing that accompanies monumental events such as conception, births, and deaths.

  She hoped with all her heart that the recent nightmares were merely a sign of a mother’s natural concern, arising from the fact that her body already knew that she was carrying a baby and was warning her to be cautious, rather than some horrible premonition of things to come in her own life.

  How to know? It was not possible to second-guess God’s will. No matter how lucky she felt, and no matter how hard she prayed, why should the Lord spare her the miseries of a thousand other mothers? God had made her suffer hellish torments during her last delivery. Perhaps that was a warning to limit the number of children she and Elgin should have. But Elgin had no patience for this sort of thinking. Surrendering to such womanly fears and emotions would be counter to all logic and reason, things he prized highly as a man of his day. She tried to cheer herself with thoughts of another healthy, rosy-cheeked baby, but her normally sunny disposition inevitably withdrew when memories of suffering crept into her mind. It was as if her body still carried the frightful experience somewhere within itself.

  She had nearly died. Did Elgin not love her? Was she just a vessel for his children and a vehicle for his ambitions to be fulfilled? It was horrible to let such thoughts wander into her mind. She was sure they were not true. He loved her. Surely he did, everyone said so. And yet, why did she feel this discomfort?

  She wanted to roll over and interrogate him. What if he and the little boy were left without her after another horrible delivery? This one had ended well, but it could easily have gone the other way. Would you like to be on your own? she wished to demand. Hosting your own suppers and balls? Supervising your own household and staff of sixty? Thoughts of the enormity and variety of her own duties overtook her outrage. An exhaustion born out of defeat overtook her, and instead of confronting her husband, she slid into a fitful sleep.

  From the city of Athens, June 1801

  Dearest Daughter,

  We are delighted to report to you that the Archbishop of Athens has presented us with a treasure of incalculable worth—and, we are
told, in honor of your reputation and influence. Perhaps he was instructed to do so by the Capitan Pasha or the Sultan himself? At any rate, darling girl, we are most proud of the service you do in the name of our country and the honor you bring to our family.

  The piece is a gymnasiarch’s chair, sat upon by the judges in the ancient Panathenaic Games that were held every four years on the Acropolis in honor of Athena. This is the solemn ceremony believed to be depicted in the magnificent frieze on the Parthenon’s exterior, sculpted by Pheidias and his team of artisans, some of which is in ruin, but much of which is still in supreme condition. But of course you know all of this. According to Reverend Hunt, you are studying the ancient Greeks like the most serious of scholars. He said that “the names of Pericles and Pheidias, to whom we owe the chefs d’oeuvre of architecture and sculpture at Athens, have so strongly interested Lady Elgin that she has studied the works of Herodotus, Plutarch, and other original historians with an eagerness I have seldom witnessed.” We are very proud of you.

  The chair is handsomely carved with a relief of the Sacred Olive Tree, the owl of Minerva, the victor’s garland, the vase of consecrated oil and the tripod given to the winners of the games and artistic contests, and other beautiful symbols. The seat is worn, but the carvings are in wonderful condition. We are going to put it outside in the garden, where we shall enjoy and appreciate it all the days of our lives. We are most grateful to you and to Elgin for arranging for us to have the privilege of keeping this lovely piece on our estate.