THE ELGIN MARBLES.
“Abode of gods whose shrines no longer burn.”
I have now to complete my account of the sculptures of the Parthenon,
that wonderfully beautiful temple to Athéné (or Minerva), at Athens,
which has never ceased to be the centre of attraction for all visitors
to Greece from the time it was first built—namely, about 435 years
B.C.—even till the present moment, when it stands a shattered wreck on
its rocky height.
My first article dealt chiefly with the long, sculptured frieze
that ran continuously the whole length of the walls of the building
(protected by the outer colonnade), and the ceremonials which that
frieze represented. The present article will be devoted chiefly to the
fragments of the external frieze, and to the figures of the eastern and
western pediments, which represented the chief legends connected with
the goddess.
I will, before proceeding, here pause a moment to account for the
shattered condition in which those fragments now are.
In 630 A.D. the Parthenon was consecrated for use as a Christian
church. Like the famous church at Constantinople, it was dedicated to
Santa Sophia, the Divine Wisdom. The older temple, that stood near the
Parthenon, called the Erecthium, which had been far more venerated by
the early Athenians than the Parthenon itself, was about the same time
also consecrated. This latter was dedicated to the Virgin Mary.
Long before this date, Christianity had happily become the religion
of the Roman Empire by law established—that is to say, of the whole
civilised world. It is evident that in adapting the Pagan temple for
Christian worship it was impossible to allow the fables of Paganism to
remain depicted over the chief entrance, however splendid as works of
art. Accordingly, we find that the entire centre group in the pediment
facing the east was completely done away with, a plain surface of blank
wall filling the space whereon, in all probability, the inscription of
the Christian dedication was placed. The subordinate figures at the two
extremities were left, as, without the central group to explain their
object, they could have had no intelligible meaning.
Our business for the moment is to show what means exist for restoring
the lost central group, which was the key of the subject. The evidence
is two-fold. There is, first, the Homeric hymn which gives the legend
of the birth of Athéné; and, secondly, there is the description given
of the Parthenon by the ancient author, Pausanias.
Pausanias was a Greek gentleman, native of Lydia, in Asia Minor, a
geographer and traveller, who visited noted sites in Greece with the
express purpose of seeing and describing all that was most beautiful
and interesting in Greek art. He lived about one hundred and fifty
years after the Christian era. His travels or “Itinerary” has come
down to us, and a most curious and interesting work it is. He saw and
described the Parthenon with much enthusiasm, with all its beautiful
statues and works of art, as “still perfect,” though they were, even in
his day, already considered as ancient art. He refers to the Homeric
hymn as suggesting the subject of the group on the eastern pediment
over the principal entrance to the temple.
This Homeric hymn to Athéné gives the account of her fabled birth, full
grown and fully armed, from the head of her father, Zeus (or Jupiter).
It describes her, first as the goddess of war, and afterwards, when she
has thrown off her arms, as the goddess of the peaceful arts. I give
the hymn in full.
HOMERIC HYMN TO ATHÉNÉ.
“I sing the glorious power with azure eyes;
Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise.
Trito-genia,[1] town preserving maid,
Revered and mighty, from his awful head
Whom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour dressed,
Golden, all radiant! Wonder strange possessed
The everlasting gods that shape to see,
Shaking a javelin keen, impetuously
Rush from the crest of Ægis-bearing Jove.
Fearfully Heaven was shaken, and did move
Beneath the might of the cerulean-eyed;
Earth dreadfully resounded far and wide;
And lifted from its depths, the sea swelled high
In purple billows; the tide suddenly
Stood still, and great Hyperion’s son long time
Checked his swift steeds, till, where she stood sublime,
Pallas from her immortal shoulders threw
The arms divine; wise Jove rejoiced to view.
Child of the Ægis-bearer, hail to thee!
Nor thine, nor others’ praise shall unremembered be.”
Such is the famous hymn. And from Pausanias we learn that it afforded
to the sculptor, Pheidias, the subject for his chief group on the
eastern pediment. But, exactly how he treated it we have no precise or
definite knowledge.
THE EASTERN PEDIMENT.—“Doubtless, in this composition, Jupiter (Zeus)
occupied the centre, and was represented in all his majesty, wielding
the thunderbolt in one hand, holding his sceptre in the other; seated
on his throne, and as if in the centre of the universe, between day
and night, the beginning and the end, as denoted by the rising and the
setting sun.
“It is probable that the figures on his right hand represented those
deities who were connected with the progress of facts and rising
life—the deities who preside over birth, over the produce of the earth,
over love—the rising sun; whilst those on the left of Zeus related to
the consummation or decline of things—the god of war, the goddess of
the family hearth, the Fates, and lastly the setting sun, or night.
Whilst the divine Athéné rose from behind the central figure in all the
effulgence of the most brilliant armour, the golden crest of her helmet
filling the apex of the pediment.”
I quote this glowing description from Sir Richard Westmacott’s
“Lectures on Sculpture.”
This, however, is all conjecture, for the space is a mere blank. As
some little aid to the imagination to help to fill the blank, I give
a sketch of the same subject, viz., the birth of Athéné, copied from
a painting on a vase now in the British Museum. The artist may have
probably seen the Parthenon, and may have taken a free version of the
subject, from memory, to decorate his vase. We find the same subject
repeated, with variations, on other vases. Zeus (Jupiter) occupies the
centre, a small Athéné springs forth from his head, Hephaestos (Vulcan)
stands by with his axe (with which he has split open the thunderer’s
head to let forth the infant deity), Poseidon (Neptune), with his
trident, behind him; and Artemis (Diana), with her bow, and a nymph,
on the other side, look on. The figures on the vases are so extremely
stiff and formal as compared to the grand, life-like statues of the
pediments, that I hesitate to give my illustration. But it shows the
probable arrangement of the group. The figures on the vase are red on
a black ground, treated perfectly flat, without the slightest modelling.
To return to the pediment of the Parthenon itself, the space
immediately surrounding the blank, on each hand, is filled with
different gods, who appear to look with wonder and admiration towards
the central group. At the extreme end on the left the rising sun,
Phœbus-Apollo, drives the car of day out of the ocean; while Seléné,
goddess of night, plunges downward with her team of steeds, into the
waves, at the end on the right.
Of the figures referred to, we may identify the following
fragments:—First, we note a fragment of the sun-god, his powerful
throat and extended arms emerging from the waves, as he shakes the
reins to urge on his prancing steeds; before him, a splendid head of
one of the horses of his car, the head flung back, as if he tossed
his mane in eager movement to rush up into the daylight. Next comes
a recumbent figure, of heroic manly proportions, the most perfect of
the Elgin collection. A lion’s skin on which he reposes, leaves little
doubt but that it was intended to represent the youthful Hercules, the
god of strength. It is popularly, but erroneously, known as Theseus.
Then come two grand, matronly, seated personages. The attitude and
beauty of proportion in these two stately figures is considered no
less admirable than the subtle arrangement of their flowing draperies.
They probably represent Demeter and her daughter, Persephone (the
Ceres and Proserpine of the Roman mythology). The younger one leans
her arm lovingly on the shoulder of her mother. The mother, Demeter,
raises her arm, as if in astonishment at the news communicated by the
next figure, who comes rushing towards them, her drapery flying far
out behind her, from the rapidity of her movements. This is doubtless
Iris, the messenger of the gods, sent to announce the wonderful events
transacting in the central group. Three fine dignified female figures,
on the further side of the pediment, equally distant from the centre,
appear to have balanced this last group of Iris, Ceres, and Proserpine.
These were the three Fates, who spun the thread of human life, named
by the Greeks, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropus. Two are seated, a little
apart; the third reclines, half leaning on the lap of the second.
These three figures are equally well preserved, and equally noble and
beautiful with the group to which they correspond on the further side.
The subject of this eastern pediment is evidently supposed to have
taken place on Mount Olympus, the highest mountain in Greece, the
fabled home of the gods, and the figures were intended to represent a
conclave of the gods.
THE WESTERN PEDIMENT.—The subject of the west end, on the contrary, may
be supposed to have taken place in Athens itself, on the Acropolis. The
subject here was the contest between Athéné and Poseidon (or Neptune)
for supremacy in Athens. Here we find local personages, such as the
river deities (the rivers personified), and the legendary kings and
heroes of Athens. These statues, with the exception of Athéné and
Poseidon, are a size smaller than those on the eastern pediment, being
not at all more than life size. The object for which this assembly has
met is to see which of the two deities could present the best gift to
the Athenians. Poseidon struck the earth; the horse appeared, so the
story runs. Athéné did the same; the olive tree grew before them. Both
were most useful gifts; but the olive tree, on account of its fruit and
the oil which it yields, was considered to have the higher claim.
Athéné was proclaimed the victor. The gods bestowed the city upon the
goddess, after whom it was named Athens; and Poseidon was so enraged,
continues the legend, that he let loose the waters of the angry sea
(which, as monarch of the waves, of course obeyed his behests), and
straightway it overflowed its banks and deluged the plain round Athens.
Such is the story, and in the times of Pausanias were shown the three
great dents on the rock, the marks of the trident of Poseidon, where he
had struck the earth, as well as a small pool of salt water. The Greek
traveller mentions having seen these things.
Strangely enough, these two same old-world curiosities were
re-discovered not many years ago when excavations were being made on
the Acropolis, in the very centre of the older temple, near to the
Parthenon, where Athéné and Poseidon were once jointly worshipped.
Athéné and Poseidon were the two central figures in the midst of their
assembled votaries, the legendary kings and heroes of Athens, and the
local nymphs and river gods.
This group is terminated at each end by recumbent figures, supposed
to represent the two streams that water the plain round Athens—the
Illissus and the Cephissus. The figure of Illissus is scarcely second
to the so-called Theseus for beauty of manly proportions; it is perhaps
more graceful and less vigorous. “Half reclined, he seems, by a sudden
movement, to raise himself with impetuosity, being overcome with joy
at the agreeable news of the victory of Athéné. The momentary attitude
which this movement occasions is one of the boldest and most difficult
to be expressed that can possibly be imagined. The undulating flow
given to every part of the drapery which accompanies the figure is
happily suggestive of flowing water.” Next to the Illissus is a broken
fragment of the nymph Callirrhoë, who represents the only spring of
fresh water in Athens; while next to the Cephissus, on the other side,
sits King Cecrops, the mythical first king of Attica, with his wife,
Agranlos (her name means a “dweller in the fields”), and his daughter
Pandrosus (whose name means “the dew”).
Of the two heroic figures in the centre, Athéné and Poseidon, whose
contest is the subject of this western pediment, the only fragment
now existing is the muscular, finely-developed back and chest of the
sea-god; and of Athéné, the upper half of the face (the sockets of the
eyes intentionally hollow, that they might be filled in with precious
stones), also one of her feet, and the stem of the famous olive tree.
A careful model of the Parthenon in its present condition is placed in
the Elgin Room, and by reference to that we can identify the fragments
on the pediments, and can also see the position of the various
sculptures. The sculptured figures on it are copied from drawings
made from the Parthenon itself at Athens in 1674, by a French artist,
Jacques Carey by name, before Lord Elgin had removed those which we
now possess, and when many of the figures were far less damaged than
they now are. The Parthenon had been used as a powder magazine by the
Turks when they conquered the city in 1687. It was during the siege
that a bomb from the enemy fell into the edifice, igniting the stored
gunpowder, and the whole centre part of the ancient temple, with a
part of its lovely frieze, was blown into the air. Again, a similar
misfortune occurred in the Greek struggle for independence and freedom
in 1827. Yet, in spite of the terrible gap, enough of the building
is still left for us to admire the wonderful beauty of proportion,
and simple, yet grand, lines of the outline; and more than enough to
recognise the general plan and places of most of the sculptures that
adorned its walls.
THE METOPES.—These are panels in alto, or high-relief, in the frieze
which ran above the colonnade of the Parthenon. They pourtray the
struggle between the youth of Athens and the centaurs—monstrous
creatures, half horse, half man. This struggle is supposed to have been
intended to typify the contest between intelligence and moral order
on the one hand, against the power of lawlessness and brute force, as
represented by the monsters, on the other—a contest, the result of
which was in that day acutely realised.
There were originally ninety-two of these Metopes, fourteen on each
end, and thirty-two along each side wall. We possess seventeen out of
the ninety-two. So many having been destroyed, it is impossible to
judge with any greater certainty of the subject.
THE STATUE.—My account would be incomplete did I not add a few words
descriptive of the beautiful statue of Athéné that originally stood
within the temple, facing the east. For, although all trace of the
statue itself has long vanished, we know its form by copies in marble
in several of the museums and galleries in Europe. The one at Naples is
considered the best. We have also, in the Elgin Room, two small rough
copies of it.
The grand original, which Pausanias saw and describes as “perfect,” “a
thing to wonder at,” was of gold and ivory. Its robes were of gold, its
flesh was of delicately cream-coloured ivory, its eyes flashed with
precious stones.
“Lovely, serene, and grand,” its gigantic form filled the centre of the
temple, and the golden griffins on its helmet reared themselves against
the very roof.
This statue, with that of the Olympian Jove, was undoubtedly the
exclusive work of the master, Pheidias, who, though he may have allowed
his pupils to assist him in some of the labours of the other figures of
the Parthenon, assuredly hoped that his fame would be secured by these
works. Their fame now, alas! rests solely upon copies and description.
I give a sketch of the best of the two small rough copies in the Elgin
Room. Like the grand original, she holds the figure of Victory in
her extended right hand, and grasps the spear in the left, while her
shield, together with the snake (type of the native soil of Athens) lie
at her feet.
The art of presenting figures in gold and ivory, for which Pheidias is
peculiarly famous, is a lost art. A special name was given to these
statues. They were called Chrys-elephantine.[2] The combined richness
of the gold with the soft hue of the ivory must have produced a
wonderfully fine and mysterious effect when seen in the recesses of a
dimly-illumined temple. The golden robes of the goddess were considered
as part of the State treasury, and were between the times of the great
festivals unfixed from the statue, and stored in the treasure house
at the back part of the temple. They were from time to time carefully
weighed, and were looked upon in the light of national wealth, which
might, in time of need, be drawn upon for the country’s requirement.
The gold of the robes was said to have been worth as much as £100,000.
It is supposed that this part of the goddess was melted down, and
finally reduced to Byzantine coin about the time of the Roman Emperor
Julian—viz., about A.D. 360.
As Athens sunk from her high position among the Greek States, her
processions and ceremonies fell into decay; but while she flourished,
none were more brilliant.
Other festivals there were in Greece besides the one at Athens in
honour of Athéné, where similar athletic games and feats of skill were
performed before the altars of other tutelary gods. There were the
far-famed Olympic games in honour of Zeus (Jupiter), in which all the
Greek States competed. The Odes of Pindar have immortalised the Olympic
chariot races. There were also the Delphic games in honour of Apollo,
the sun god, the god of poetry. The practice of these games lasted in
Greece, and were in use in Rome, till long after Christian times. How
popular they were in those times we may infer from the many references
to them in the Epistles and Acts of the Apostles.
Professor Jebb observes, in one of the admirable series of Shilling
Primers now publishing, the one on “Greek Literature:” “The Greeks were
not the first people who found out how to till the earth well, or to
fashion metals, or to build splendid houses and temples. But they were
the first people who tried to make reason the guide of their social
life. Greek literature has an interest such as belongs to no other
literature. It shows us how men first set about systematic thinking.”
And, he proceeds, “neither the history of Christian doctrine, nor the
outer history of the Christian Church, can be fully understood without
reference to the character and work of the Greek mind. Under the
influence of Christianity, two principal elements have entered into the
spiritual life of the modern world. One of these has been Hebrew; the
other has been Greek.”
Of all the many beautiful things which the Greeks produced, the
Greek language itself is considered to have been the first and most
wonderful; and “no one,” continues the professor, “who is a stranger to
Greek literature, has seen how perfect an instrument it is possible for
human speech to be.”
We may remember that the whole of the New Testament was given to the
world in this beautiful and expressive language; that St. Paul was well
versed in Greek philosophy, and that many of his Epistles were to Greek
cities, and many of his first disciples among the Gentiles were Greeks.
We can also be sure that he must often have been present at Greek games
such as we have been describing. The frequent references and metaphors
referring to them prove this. In the first Epistle to the Corinthians
the references to the foot-races run in the Isthmean games, celebrated
at Corinth, occur again and again. “Know ye not that they which run
in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run that ye may
obtain” (ch. ix. 24); and in the following verse, “They strive for a
corruptible” (or perishable) “crown, but we an incorruptible”—referring
to the fragile crowns or garlands of fresh leaves awarded to the
victors in the games we have been describing.
And again, in the Epistle to the Philippians, iii. 14, “I press towards
the mark” (or goal) “for the prize.” In the first Epistle to Timothy,
vi. 12, “Fight the good fight before many witnesses.”
The first preaching to the Gentiles was to Greek-speaking peoples,
either noted Greek cities, as Athens itself and Corinth, or Greek
colonies in Asia Minor. We find (Acts xii.) how St. Paul actually
visited this same beautiful City of Athens, whose early legends, like
quaint fairy stories, we have been describing; how he stood on the
Areopagus (the Hill of Mars) facing the Parthenon, and must have seen
all its lovely statues and grand monuments still perfect; and how he
“thought it good to be left at Athens alone,” when he there preached to
her wise men and philosophers, and found followers and disciples from
among them, whose hearts were opened to a higher wisdom than any that
the worshippers of the famed Athenian goddess knew.
[Illustration: THE INTERIOR OF THE PARTHENON.
(_The Giving of the Prizes. Conjectural Arrangement._)]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Born by Lake Tritonis.
[2] Chrysos: gold. Elephantus: ivory.
MERLE’S CRUSADE.
BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of “Aunt Diana,” “For Lilias,” etc.