by Karen Essex
Hamilton asked the foreman to interpret.
“They say that they heard the goddess Athena moaning as they tried to lift the god. It is a statue of Zeus, her father, and she does not want it removed from Athenian soil.”
Elgin shook his head wildly. “That is absurd! I will not allow this work to be stopped over ignorant superstition, Hamilton. The captain of the Braakel is giving us our very last opportunity to ship the marbles back to England where they belong. I have been at tremendous expense these many years. I will not fail now, especially over this nonsense. Are these not good Orthodox men? Ask them if they dare to defy the Christian God by worshipping the pagan goddess.”
The foreman conferred with his workers, who did not seem to be backing off from their positions. They stared defiantly at Elgin.
“The men say that they worship the One True God, but they also know the song of Athena, who still lives and who walks the streets of Athens, bemoaning the fate of her temples and her people. They heard her cries as they carried off the Caryatid lady from the temple on the Acropolis. They say that Athena would help the Greek people if she could, but her time is over. They do not wish to insult her. Those who do pay the price.”
Mary had not disclosed to Elgin the identity of the monstrous woman and her creatures that had attacked him in the vision. Of course it was all plainly ridiculous to entertain, but the pieces of the puzzle kept forming in her mind, and she could not help but conclude that, with the sinking of the Mentor, and now this, Elgin was somehow being punished.
“Tell them they shall pay the price of not putting food on their tables,” he said to the foreman, “and they and their families shall starve if these statues are not packed for shipping by nightfall. I can make absolutely certain that they will be denied employment for as long as they live.”
The foreman reluctantly carried the message back to the men, who spat and grumbled, but eventually went back to work. Feeding the family trumps conviction every time, Mary thought, a basic law of the human condition. She was sure that Elgin, if faced with a similar ultimatum, would have made the same choice.
One lone man, older than the rest, with deep crevasses around his eyes and a skeletal physique, threw down his ropes and tools. Before he walked away, he looked at Elgin and spoke in furious Greek, punctuating the end of his words by spitting in the sand.
“What did that impertinent old man say?” Elgin asked as the others shuffled back to work, trying to salve their bruised pride by patting one another on the back.
Mary was surprised that he bothered to ask. But something in the man’s demeanor, some certainty in his righteousness, must have impressed Elgin.
“He says to remind you that after they fought each other in a contest for the city, Athena and the god of the sea began to work together for the common good of all Greeks. That is why your ship hit the rocks in the storm and your marbles are at the bottom of the ocean.”
I DON’T SEE A THING, do you?” Elgin scanned the gray waves through the spyglass. Giving up, he handed it to Mary.
“No, I don’t either. Show us again, please,” she said to Captain Maling, who took the glass from her and used it to point.
Mary followed his direction. In the distance, she saw the very tips of the masts of the sunken Mentor bobbing out of the choppy water. Mary had hoped that they would not have to pass the remains of the Mentor on their way to Malta, but it was unavoidable. She anticipated the gloom that would descend over Elgin if he saw the sunken vessel.
“There she is, all that remains of her,” said the captain.
Mary saw that Elgin winced. Gathering himself, he said, “When the weather warms, we shall raise and repair her.” He peered again through the glass.
“The cost of repairs would greatly exceed the value of the vessel, Lord Elgin,” said Captain Maling. “I’m afraid she’ll never be seaworthy again. Pity.”
The recovery work had stopped; the winter waters, even in this southern part of the Aegean, were too frigid for the divers to withstand. The day was dark, and the shoreline was desolate. The craggy cliffs of Kythera hovered protectively over the bay.
Elgin looked miserable. He had had few happy moments since he’d heard the news of his sunken treasure. Now, as if in elegy to the ship, he took a letter out of his pocket and read the list of the ship’s contents given him by Hamilton and now buried in the waters over which they sailed.
“The relief pieces from the Temple of Athena Nike. The majority of the Parthenon frieze. Many statues and columns from the Parthenon and surrounding areas. An undetermined number of torsos gathered in excavations near the Parthenon.” His spirits sank as he pronounced each lost item. Nonetheless, he continued.
“The two great slabs of the Parthenon frieze recovered in the walls of the Acropolis. Multiple porphyry columns, miscellaneous fragments and inscriptions from the Parthenon, and, worst of all, the marble gymnasiarch’s chair given to your parents by the Archbishop of Athens.”
This last truly upset Elgin, whether because it was one of the crowning jewels of the ancient world, or because ownership of it had kept Mr. Nisbet’s money flowing into the Athens project. Elgin crumpled the letter and shoved it back into his pocket. Mary had been writing letters of misery and woe to her parents about the cost of the recovery, not certain that she would do Elgin’s bidding and press them to contribute. She had tried to soften the blow of the expense of recovery by writing to her father with the news that they had finally taken all the artists off the payroll save Lusieri, who remained in Athens to carry out Elgin’s wishes. That would please Mr. Nisbet. But more stones were on the way to England, and yet more were making their way to the docks at Piraeus. To her dismay, Elgin instructed Lusieri to continue to excavate new sites. Where would all of this tonnage of stone be stored? She and Elgin had barely discussed what would happen to them once they had arrived, mainly because he deflected her efforts to be specific.
“I’ve arranged for my mother and your father to meet the shipments.” That was all that Elgin wanted to offer on the topic. Did it mean that he had also arranged for those parties to accept financial responsibility for their storage and care?
She had received no letters of protest from her father, but it could be that the letters were not reaching her. She decided that she would not press the issue with Elgin. By spring—and it was just a few months away!—they would be happily ensconced in their true home, Broomhall, where, relaxed and reunited with their families, they could sit down with the Nisbets and make some significant and reasonable decisions.
Mary took a deep breath, comforted that her parents would be on hand during these discussions. She did not want to argue with Elgin’s absolute conviction that no amount was too excessive to spend in the retrieval of the marbles. He had taken the sinking of the Mentor as a crushing defeat and a boon to his enemies, but had vowed that ultimately he would not be defeated, not by the French or Napoleon, not by jealous Englishmen or Greeks, and not by acts of nature. Mary admired his perseverance, but she did not want to commit an amount of money to the salvage operations that would prove detrimental to their financial health.
“Is all of this even possible?” she asked as they sailed beyond the sight of the broken masts of the Mentor.
“Is what possible?” Elgin asked.
“Oh, men diving into these freezing, tempestuous waters to haul up thousands of pounds of marble and stone? Admittedly, I do not know how these things are done, but the chances of success seem rather remote.”
“These sorts of things are done all the time, Mary. We shall hire experts, nothing like that group of inveterate drunks who worked for us before.” Elgin had come to despise the crew of workers originally hired for the task. “I assure you, my dear, that if the proper resources are committed, success is guaranteed.”
For five long days, they were tossed about in contrary winds, until they reached the island of Crete, where the captain announced they would dock for five days to restock and to wait for more favorable
winds. Mary went ashore every day just to feel solid ground beneath her feet. They drove into the town of Khania, where they encountered lepers living by the side of the road. Mary was shocked by the sheer numbers of them, humans looking as if they had been partly eaten by other creatures, and forbidden to enter the city, banished to live among those like themselves. She tried not to turn away from them; the poor things were undoubtedly shunned by every passing rider. Besides, she was accustomed to looking at her husband’s half-eaten face, and felt she could afford the lepers a kind smile.
Favorable winds did not come. At last Captain Maling set sail in the best winter conditions one could hope for, though it took eight days of hard sailing to make the relatively short trip to Malta.
At once, though, Elgin’s spirits rose. “Finally, we are returned to Christendom,” he said, ebullient despite the news they’d just received.
The French had protected Malta until Lord Nelson defeated Napoleon in Egypt. At that time, the English took it over and made it a way station for travelers coming into and out of the East, owing to its excellent hospital run by the doctors of the Knights of St. John. The Elgins were ordered to submit to a twenty-day quarantine in Malta before they could proceed to the Continent. It was the same for everyone who had been in plague-infested territories in the East.
Still, Malta felt more familiar to them than any of the places they had been to in three years. The island was crammed with English people whom they knew from London who had also been traveling or stationed in foreign lands. It was not going to be an unpleasant quarantine. The Elgins would have to continue to live aboard the Diana, but were granted permission to walk about the grounds of the old Borghi Palace, a medieval fortress with beautiful gardens, though the French had blown the castle to bits. The Elgins pitched tents in the gardens, where they could take lunch in the fresh air, and on one special day, were able to sit on the grass and raise their faces to the sun and dream of the future. Bruce was playing swords with Andrew, using long, reedy sticks they’d found. Masterman was teaching Little Mary a nursery rhyme, and Harriet slept in her bassinet nearby. Mary sent up a quick but sincere prayer to thank God that after all the horrible days at sea, her children were a sturdy bunch, with rosy cheeks and excess energy when they might have been pale and feverish.
“I’ve written to my mother, Elgin,” she said. “I want her to employ the best upholsterer she can find to turn the Turkish and Indian fabrics I’ve been collecting into curtains for the parlors and dining hall at Broomhall. I sent her sketches and samples. I’m having Mr. Poston paint the wallpaper to match the fabrics. Remember the Turkish orange and gold that you so liked?” During the stormy days at sea, Mary had distracted herself from the misery by mentally redecorating Broomhall with everything beautiful that they had collected while in the East.
“You did like the colors?” she continued. “Oh, Elgin, if you didn’t, you should have spoken up before I ordered the wallpaper!” She slapped his hand playfully. But his mind seemed focused on some distant thought.
“I’ve decided that we must stop in Italy and France before we return to Broomhall,” he said, not looking at her.
She did not think that she had heard him properly. Surely he was not proposing that they extend an already difficult trip?
“What do you mean, exactly?” she asked.
“The Continent is at peace, at least for the moment. I would like to go to Rome and see about the renovation of the marbles. Then I thought we’d have a stay in Paris. Lord Hawkesbury keeps making noise about appointing me to France.”
She did not respond.
“I thought you wanted to go to Paris. Or was that simply an infatuation with that snake Sébastiani?”
“No, my dearest, of course I wanted to see Paris. But we have been so long at sea, and so very long away from home. Do you realize that I was able to live as mistress of Broomhall for one week before we left for the East? I am yearning for home. Think of the children. They have survived these long travels and the seas and the inclement weather and the pestilences! They must be settled in our home before our luck runs out.”
Now it was his turn to be silent. He did not respond to her, but watched his little boy as he tumbled across the lawn with Andrew.
“Elgin? Everyone says that the peace with Napoleon is tentative at best. Do you really think we should expose the children to more danger? If war broke out again and we were in France or Italy, what would we do?”
“You are correct; the journey over land is too dangerous for them. We must send the children on by sea with Captain Maling. Your parents can meet them at Portsmouth.”
“No!” The word sprang to her lips to counter the unthinkable. “I will not be separated from my children! Elgin, it is too cruel. Harriet is barely six months old! Aside from one visit, they do not know their grandparents. They will be frightened to be left at sea, and then with strangers!”
“They have their nurses, with whom they are most familiar,” he said calmly.
“But I don’t want to go. I want to go home.” She realized that she sounded like a child, but she was so astonished at his suggestion, and so offended by the idea that she should leave the children, that she could formulate no coherent response.
“The fate of the marbles is at stake,” he said. “Now, Mary, before you protest, do listen. We must go to Rome to meet with Antonio Canova. I’ve arranged it all by letter. I want his opinion on whether the marbles should be restored, or whether we should leave them in their present condition.”
“Do you mean at the bottom of the sea?”
He did not smile. “We are the keepers of the world’s greatest treasures. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“My children are my greatest treasures,” she said. “Stone, no matter how old, means nothing to me when compared to their welfare.”
“Mary, you must look beyond the immediate. It is only a matter of weeks. Please, do not be selfish. The marbles are of perpetual importance. We must be their servants.”
SHE COULD NOT IDENTIFY the precise moment when she knew beyond a doubt that she was pregnant again. She might have known, but didn’t, when she said goodbye to her children at Naples. The weather was bad in March, and Dr. Scott thought it best that the children not leave the boat to bid their parents farewell. Mary found a painter in Naples who specialized in costumes and portraits. She dragged him onto the ship so that he could make a likeness of her three that she could have with her in their absence. Little Mary could not understand why her mother was so upset. Mary tried to hide her tears, knowing that her sorrow frightened her two older children. Elgin had explained the entire situation to three-year-old Bruce, “man to man,” and the little boy dared not shed one tear. He bravely kissed both his parents on the cheeks, and then retreated to Andrew, who got on his knees so that he could embrace the boy at his own level. The servant might be a drunk, Mary thought, but he took good care of her son’s tender feelings. Mary covered Harriet’s cheeks and toes with kisses, stopping only when she knew that one more would bring heaving tears.
She turned away from her three little ones and felt a blow to her stomach. She thought the breath was knocked out of her. She tried to recover so that the children would not be worried—so that the last sight of their mother was not of the broken-down creature she felt inside. No, one must be brave for one’s children. She stood upright, though she could not manage a full breath, and forced a smile as she waved goodbye. Calitza raised Harriet’s tiny hand, waving it back, and Mary thought that she would die.
Nor did she suspect that she was pregnant when she and Elgin were at the studio of Antonio Canova, discussing the fate of the marbles. The handsome sculptor from the Veneto had been in Rome for twenty-four years studying the works of antiquity, though he did not look very old to Mary, not even forty. Elgin and Mary had studied his two great marble works, Theseus Vanquishing the Minotaur and Three Graces, which they found elegiac and balletic. Canova’s opinion regarding the marbles was the most considered
that Elgin could find.
“True, it is lamentable that the sculptures have suffered so much from time and barbarism,” the artist said. “But they are the work of the ablest artists the world has ever seen. I am flattered that you would choose me to perform the restoration, but it would be a sacrilege for me or any man to presume to touch them with a chisel.”
Mary had walked away, overtaken with nausea, but she attributed the feeling to relief that she would not be paying Canova the fortune he would have charged to work on the marbles. Later, in the bumpy carriage ride to Florence, as she was jostled and tossed, she began to get a clue as to her condition. But she did not speak up. She was still hoping that all her upset and fatigue was due to the bad roads, the miserable food served at country inns, and the exhaustion of travel.
On the way to France, they heard reports that Napoleon was ambushing English ships passing through French waters and confiscating the cargo. Mary was terrified for the children. There was no way to know if they had already passed through and reached Portsmouth.
“I do hope that my mother was tempted to travel to claim them,” she said sarcastically. She had been in a foul temper, but as they were traveling with Reverend Hunt, she had tried to keep it to herself.
Elgin could plainly see how upset she was.
“Of course the children have arrived by now, Mary,” Elgin said. “It’s been three weeks since we left them at Naples. They are much better off where they are. We sent them by sea under the care of a first-rate captain and a superb doctor because it was safer than traveling by land. At any rate, the French are not looking for small Scottish children. But they undoubtedly know that the marbles are onboard an English warship. I just hope that they have not caught up with the Braakel.”
Though she was annoyed that Elgin was, once again, more interested in the safety of his statues than of his children, she assured herself that his reasoning was correct. She had to try to console herself; it would probably be another month before she got word about the children’s arrival.