LONDON COLLOQUY ON REUNIFICATION OF THE PARTHENON MARBLES LONDON 19 – 20 JUNE 2012

Adv George Bizos SC (A member of Johannesburg Bar and The British Committee for the Reunification Of the Parthenon Marbles) 

A LEGAL AND MORAL ISSUE - WAS A VALID FIRMAN ISSUED?

The Modern Greek state is the successor in title to the territory of Greece that was under control of the Ottoman Empire at the turn of the 19th Century and where the marbles were located prior to their removal by Lord Elgin.  Greece believes that it is legally entitled to the return of the Parthenon Marbles.  Furthermore, it has a clear interest in its cultural heritage, as is reflected in Law 30228 on the Protection of Antiquities and Cultural Heritage in General.  In particular that law makes clear that Greece has a duty, to itself and to its citizens, “to care, within the context of international law, for the protection of cultural objects, which are connected historically with Greece wherever they are located.”  

The marbles that are the subject of this memorandum adorned the Parthenon, on the Acropolis.  They were removed between 1801 and 1810 from the sites at which they were located by Lord Elgin, a Scottish Earl who was at the time the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire.  The last of the marbles were finally removed from Greek territory in 1810 and were taken by Lord Elgin back to Britain.

In 1816 Lord Elgin sought to sell the marbles to the British government.  The government, which was interested in making the purchase, conducted a parliamentary enquiry into the question whether Elgin had had permission to remove the marbles.  Having satisfied the majority of the members that Elgin indeed had permission, Parliament resolved to purchase the marbles from Elgin.  In 1816, Parliament passed an Act that vested the ownership of the marbles in the British Museum.  The marbles have been housed there ever since.

As will be seen below, it is the opinion of three of us including Richard Moultrie and Adrian Friedman in the Constitutional Litigation Unit of the Legal Resources Centre in Johannesburg that there may well be a case to be made against the current possessors of the marbles for their return.  In our view, the most effective potential cause of action would be based on the principles of private law and would be litigated by means of an action launched in the English Courts, applying the accepted rules of private international law (conflict of laws).  The strongest arguments are those based on a consideration of, and challenge to, the legality of the original acquisition of the marbles by Lord Elgin.

There is a range of possible causes of action for any claim that might be brought by Greece.  Greece could bring a claim based on its possession at the time at which Elgin removed the marbles.  It could also theoretically bring a claim on the basis that it would presently be the owner of the marbles, had they not have been removed.

It is a well-established principle of private international law that the legality of a transfer of property is to be assessed in terms of the law applicable at the time of the transfer.  Because of the 1816 Act that transferred ownership of the marbles from Elgin to the Trustees of the British Museum, it is important to bear this principle in mind.  If one progresses on the assumption that the Greek claim is one of possession, the predecessors in unlawfully dispossessed Greece (or, more precisely, the predecessors in title of the current Greek state) of the marbles, then the claim must be assessed in terms of the law applicable at the time of the dispossession; i.e., between 1801 and 1810.  The 1816 Act then becomes less significant.  In our view, this approach offers the best prospects of success.  The strongest arguments that we have considered concern the question of whether Elgin truly had permission, and was therefore lawfully entitled, to remove the marbles.  If those arguments are to be advanced, it is important to frame the claim as a possessory action, based on the unlawful removal of the marbles from Greece’s possession.  Our recommendations in this memorandum (a fuller version ahs been published “Colloquium: Protection and Return of Cultural Property, Sakkoula Publications, Athens 2001” ) therefore proceed on the assumption that the best prospect of success involves Greece instituting a claim based on its possession prior to Elgin’s removal of the marbles.

This memorandum is based on an approach in terms of which Greece would seek relief from a British court in terms of the law or England.  England is, of course, the jurisdiction in which the property is located and it therefore the appropriate jurisdiction in which to institute an action.  Our prima facie view is that, in terms of the private international law currently applied in England, the court will be required to apply the law applicable in Greece at the time of the dispossession.  This is also a well-accepted principle.  Indeed, in the recent case of Government of the Islamic Republic of Iran v Barakat Galleries Ltd the parties accepted that the dispute had to be determined according to the law of Iran at the time of the removal of antiquities from that country, “being the lex situs of the antiquities at the time of derivation of such title”.  This case is the most recent example of the application of this essentially trite principle.

While we have considered the factual bases for arguments to the effect that Elgin did not have the right to remove the marbles, we have relied exclusively and uncritically upon the work of Rudenstine and Demetriades in relation to the law applicable in Greece at the time of the marbles’ removal.  A full consideration of the legal framework will be necessary before a claim may proceed.  

THE VALIDITY OF THE “FIRMAN” . Those who argue that the removal by Elgin of the marbles was lawful rely on the issuance, by the Ottoman authorities, of a firman that was presented to the authorities in Athens on 23 July 1801.  It is our view that there are a range of arguments that could potentially be raised that contradict the view that Elgin was authorised, through a firman, to remove the marbles. In short, these arguments are:

• That the document on which Elgin relied was not in fact a firman but was simply a letter setting out the recommendation of the writer.  The letter was purportedly signed by Kaimmakam Seyid, Abdullah Pasha, the Deputy to the Grand Vizier or Yusuf Ziyauddin Pasha (then currently in charge of the Ottoman army fighting the French in Egypt), whereas only the Sultan, according to this argument, could give authority for the removal of items from the Parthenon; and

• That the English document commonly relied upon to support Elgin’s claim was in fact a distorted translation of an Italian translation of the original Ottoman document.  On this argument, the document has even less weight when considering whether it did indeed grant the required authority to remove all or any of the marbles.

We proceed to deal with each in turn.  We begin by setting out, briefly, the argument that the “firman” was not in fact a firman.  It must be emphasised that the Ottoman Empire was a theocracy.  There was no legislative body and the law in force was sharia.  The Sultan alone was authorised to interpret the sharia law to the extent that it was inadequately expressed and to issue decrees to the extent that they were not inconsistent with sharia.  This latter power was expressed in the issuance of firmans.

Therefore, if the Sultan had issued a firman to Elgin authorising him to remove the marbles, there would be strong support for the view that the act of removal was legal (subject to arguments discussed below).  However, a case could be made out that the firman allegedly relied upon was not in fact a firman.

According to Demetriades, whose views are supported by Islamic scholars, a valid firman would have had the following features:

• It would have contained a “tougras”, which was the emblem of the Sultan.  Only the Sultan could issue a firman. • It would have begun with an “invocatio”, an invocation to God.

• It would have been headed with the Sultan’s monogram.

• It would have contained an “inscriptio”, which would have mentioned the officials to whom it was addressed.

• It would have contained various phrases that were contained only in firmans.  For example, the section containing the specific authority to perform the particular act would begin with the phrase “Upon arrival of the great imperial document, let it be known that …..”.

• It would have ended with the date in Arabic set out in full.

• It would never have mentioned the name of the drafter or editor because the document was written in the name of the Sultan alone.

The document upon which Elgin relied to establish his authority (in the House of Commons enquiry in 1816) contained none of these features.  Furthermore, it was signed by Seged Abdullah Kaimacan, which would never have occurred in the case of a real firman, for the reasons given above.

As will be discussed in more detail below, the document upon which most modern historians rely in support of their view that Elgin had permission to remove the marbles was an English translation.  The authenticity of the English document is open to serious doubt.  However, even if one accepts that the English translation is an exact translation of the original document issued by the Ottoman authorities, the evidence would tend to support the view that the document was an official letter, rather than a firman.  Its author was a high-ranking official in the army (specifically, the deputy to the Grand Vizier), who was present in Egypt fighting against the French army.  As a result of the defeat by the British of the French, this letter was addressed to Elgin as a sign of gratitude.  It did not, however, have the force of a law that would have applied to a firman.

There is no reason in principle why this could not be achieved during the course of a trial.  The ultimate prospects of success of this argument (or any of the other fact-based arguments) may only be assessed cogently once proper consultation with the relevant expert witnesses has taken place.

The second argument relating to the firman focuses on the translated document upon which Elgin relied in the hearing before Parliament in 1816.  The argument is as follows:

• There are potentially three documents upon which Elgin’s claim to have received permission to remove the marbles is based.  First, there is the original document that Elgin obtained from the Ottomans in Constantinople in 1801.  It was referred to in the report of the parliamentary committee that investigated Elgin’s claims in 1818.  Secondly, there is a document in Italian that was revealed at the 1816 hearings by Philip Hunt, an assistant of Elgin’s who was present with him in Constantinople.  Hunt claimed that this document was a direct translation of the Ottoman firman and that the translation had been done in Constantinople in July 1801.  Thirdly, there is an English translation that was referred to in the 1816 parliamentary report, but which was in fact derived from Hunt’s Italian document.

• The original document is now lost, and was already lost by the time that parliament conducted its enquiry in 1816.  No copy of this document has ever been found and there is no reference to it in the archives of the Ottoman Empire.

• The circumstances surrounding the Italian document are somewhat suspicious.  At the Parliamentary hearings, Elgin testified first.  He was repeatedly asked whether he had written proof of having been given permission to remove the marbles.  He answered that he had been given written permission but that he had not kept any of the documents given to him.  He made no mention at all of an Italian translation of the original document.  Hunt was called as a witness towards the end of the hearings and made reference, for the first time, to the Italian translation.  Despite the clear incentive that Elgin had to fabricate the existence of an authentic translation of the original document (because he desperately needed to sell the marbles and Parliament was eager to be satisfied that he had received permission to remove them), the Committee accepted at face value the authenticity of the Italian document.

• There are arguments against the notion that the Italian document was fraudulently created by Elgin with the co-operation of Hunt: in the first place, it would not have been necessary for the document to have been rendered in Italian.  Secondly, and more importantly, the document does not seem to authorise the removal by Elgin of the marbles (see below).  If one were to devise a fraudulent document in these circumstances, one would expect to devise a document that is water-tight in giving the permission required.

• However, even if one accepts that the Italian document was not fraudulently created by Hunt or Elgin to satisfy the Parliamentary committee, there are discrepancies between the Italian document (which has been rediscovered relatively recently) and the English translation relied upon the Parliament.  These discrepancies undermine the claim that the Italian document is a translation of a firman giving permission to Elgin to remove the marbles.

• If one believes the account provided in the report by the Parliamentary select committee, Hunt was in possession of an Italian translation of the original firman given in 1801.  An English translation of that Italian document is annexed to the parliamentary report and it is upon the latter that those claiming that Elgin had authority to remove the marbles rely.

• In the English translation of the document, there appears the following sentence: “We therefore have written this Letter to you, and expedited it by Mr Philip Hunt, an English Gentleman, Secretary of the Aforesaid Ambassador”.  In the Italian version of the document, this sentence actually reads as follows: “We therefore have written this Letter to you, and expedited it by N.N.”  It seems that the initials N.N. were used when the name of the person in question was to be inserted later.

• The second discrepancy is as follows: In the English translation, it says at the bottom “Signed (with a signet) Seged Abdullah Kaimacan”.  However, the Italian version of the document is not signed, with a signet or at all, by anyone, let alone Seged Abdullah Kaimacan.

• In the light of the above, it is clear that the Italian document could not have been a translation of a firman.  No final document would have contained the initials N.N. in it, because the identity of the deliverer would have been known to the drafter by the time the draft was finalised.  In addition, there is no explanation for translating the firman into Italian since neither Elgin nor Hunt spoke Italian.

• The most plausible explanation of the nature of the document is that it was a document drafted by Pisani, Elgin’s negotiator and translator, which was to be presented to the authorities.  In other words, it was a document that had been drafted by Elgin’s men in the hope that the authorities would approve its content and issue an official letter based on its text.  However, the evidence seems compelling that the Italian document could not have been a translation of a firman and was not even a final version of a letter.

• In short, the Italian version of the document is clearly not a firman and does not seem even to be a final draft of a letter.  The English version of the document is a final draft, but not of a firman.  Although the evidence seems to support the view that it was the Italian document and not the English document that constitutes an authentic translation of the original Ottoman text, on either version there was no firman granting permission to Elgin to remove the marbles.

THE OTTOMANS HAD NO POWER TO GIVE TITLE IN THE MARBLES. There are a range of arguments that might be advanced that relate to the authority of the Ottomans, or the particular officials that ostensibly gave authority, to permit Elgin to remove the marbles.  A brief synopsis of these arguments is as follows:

• To the extent that permission was indeed given to Elgin, it was given by officials who did not have the authority to give it.  This argument is similar to the argument advanced above in respect of the firman.  In terms of this argument, to the extent that Elgin was indeed authorised to remove the marbles, he was authorised to do so by persons who lacked the requisite authority.

• A similar argument is to the effect that the Ottomans were bribed into giving permission and therefore the authority given was not lawful.  This argument must be approached with caution.  As argued above, it is well-accepted, both in terms of private and public international law, that the legality of the acquisition of title in property must be assessed by the law of the country in which the property is acquired at the time at which it was acquired.  In terms of that approach, the validity of Elgin’s acquisition of the marbles must be assessed according to the law in force in Greece at the time of the acquisition (i.e. between 1801 and 1810).  Those that argue that the bribery of the Ottoman officials renders the permission that they gave nugatory, rely on the fact that, at the time, bribery was already proscribed by the law of England.  While bribery may well have been the norm at the time in Athens, we cannot imagine that it would have actually been legal.  However, the question would still arise whether proof of bribery could render the otherwise valid firman invalid – not to mention the further question that there is no indication in any of the evidence that we have obtained that the firman itself was obtained by bribery, whereas it is quite clear that bribes were regularly paid to the local Athens officials such as the Disdar and Voivode.

• The last of the arguments in regard to the authority of the Ottomans to give Elgin permission is of broader application.  In terms of this argument, the Ottomans’ military occupation of Greece did not give them authority to alienate the marbles.  Once again, this argument should be approached with caution.  It is based on developments in the law of occupation under public international law that have occurred in the 20th Century.  On the assumption that the legality of the transfer must be assessed at the time at which it took place, it is difficult to argue that modern developments in the law of occupation may be applied retrospectively.

• More than one third of the members of the British Parliament voted against the purchase of the marbles. Might the result have been different if the House had not been misled by Elgin and his agents?

In another important case of Autocephalous Greek Orthodox Church of Cyprus v Goldberg and Feldman Fine Arts Inc the laws of Cyprus, Switzerland and Indiana in the United States were considered.  The case is discussed by Professor Symeon Symeonides, Distinguished Professor of Law; Dean Emeritus Willamette University in “Colloquium: Protection and Return of Cultural Property, Sakkoula Publications, Athens 2001”. Although there may be arguments to the contrary the law of the state of origin of the property should prevail.  The law of Cyprus did prevail even though they were removed from the northern part of Cyprus which is occupied by the Turkish military force. 

However, litigation is not our first option.

The Director of the British Museum persists in describing the Parthenon as a ruin.  For the Greeks and philhellenes, despite the damage done to it by the Venetians, the Ottomans and Lord Elgin, it is still a symbol of Athenian Democracy, civilisation and the spirit of Hellenism.  Pericles who declared that “we are lovers of beauty without extravagance” had the Parthenon in mind.  Lord Byron, the most ardent Philhellene, condemned Elgin’s removal of the marbles.

Nadine Gordimer the Nobel Laureate has written in the foreword to Christopher Hitchens’ book “On any criteria of ability, facility to preserve and display their own heritage of great works of art as their importance decrees, Greece has created a claim incontestably unmatched.  The Parthenon Gallery in the New Acropolis Museum provides a sweep of contiguous space for the 106-metre-long Panatheneaic Procession as it never could be seen anywhere else, facing the Parthenon itself high on the Sacred Rock. But there are gaps in their magnificent frieze, left blank. They are there to be filled by an honourable return of the missing parts from the British Museum.  Reverence - and justice - demand this.”

The people of Greece, of the Diaspora and the Philhellenes of the world cannot rest until the Parthenon Marbles are restored to their home.  It would enhance the friendship between the people of Greece and those in the United Kingdom. It would be the right thing to do. 

Adv George Bizos SC (A member of Johannesburg Bar and The British Committee for the Reunification Of the Parthenon Marbles)

Law, Morals and the Parthenon Marbles

Treachery, subterfuge and "a steady flow of bribes." Writer Bruce Clark unpicks the dubious legality of Lord Elgin's removal of the Parthenon sculptures.

When Melina Mercouri went to London in 1983, she put the point in her own inimitable way: “This is a moral issue more than a legal issue.” Kyriakos Mitsotakis took a similar line in November when he visited his counterpart Boris Johnson and declared that the sculptures were stolen – a view which Johnson himself, in his student days, had espoused.

The British Museum’s position is diametrically opposed. Its website argues that Elgin acted with the full knowledge and permission of the legal authorities of the day in both Athens and London. Lord Elgin’s activities were thoroughly investigated by a Parliamentary Select Committee in 1816 and found to be entirely legal.

Provocative as it sounds to most Greek ears, the case for the legality of the marbles’ transfer is worth studying. It rests mainly on a document that was apparently issued by an Ottoman official, the kaymakam, at the request of the British embassy to the High Porte, around the beginning of July 1801. It emerged at a high point in Anglo-Ottoman relations, when the two powers were acting in lockstep to expel Napoleon’s forces from Egypt. It was not, strictly speaking, a firman – a term which refers to a decree issued by the sultan himself. But the kaymakam was a high-ranking figure.

Its terms had virtually been dictated by Elgin’s assistant, a shrewd Anglican cleric, Philip Hunt. It allowed a team of mainly Italian artists employed by Elgin to visit the Acropolis, which was also the Ottoman garrison, make drawings and moulds of the antiquities, and specified that …“When they wish to take away some pieces of stone with old inscriptions, and figures, no opposition be made…”

Historians agree that when that text was issued it was understood to refer to picking up objects from or below the ground. (Ever since the explosion of 1687, when a Venetian mortar bomb ignited an Ottoman powder-keg and blew the roof off the Parthenon, plenty of valuable debris had been scattered around on the citadel).

In the course of July 1801, Anglo-Ottoman relations became closer still as fears grew that Napoleon might invade Greece. Hunt was sent back to Athens – on a mission to stiffen the backs of the Ottoman commanders. As he boasted afterwards, this provided an opportunity to “stretch” the meaning of the permit and remove sculptures that were still attached to the temples. In the careful words of historian William St Clair, “Lord Elgin’s agents, by a mixture of cajolery, bribes and threats, persuaded and bullied the Ottoman authorities in Athens to exceed the terms” of the kaymakam’s decree.

As Elgin would later explain, such a document was in any case not the last word – it was a basis for negotiation with local officials, and it did not preclude the need to keep up a steady flow of bribes to ensure that the stripping of the Acropolis continued unimpeded.

Conveniently for Elgin, the post of disdar, or head of the Acropolis garrison, changed hands in mid-1801, as an elderly incumbent, who’d made a steady income in bribes, passed away and the job was taken over by his son. The new disdar felt trapped in the middle of a high-stakes transaction, and he feared dire punishment if he miscalculated. Elgin and his associates made sure that he remained frightened. In May 1802, the disdar became anxious that he might get into trouble with his Ottoman masters because he had been slightly too zealous in accommodating Elgin’s project. But as Lady Elgin smugly reported, one of her husband’s agents “whistled in his lug (ear)” that he had nothing to fear. Or to put it another way, “You have nothing to fear but us…”

Even then, the Ottoman attitude to the legality of the project was never a settled matter. In autumn of 1802, both the disdar and the voivode (governor) of Athens became worried that they might get in trouble with the Porte, because the existing text did not justify the mass stripping which was in progress. Elgin duly procured a fresh document which retroactively legalized the actions of the two officials.

But then fast-forward to 1808, by which time the kaleidoscope had shifted: the Ottomans were at peace with France and spasmodically at war with the British. Many of the sculptures collected by Elgin were still in Greece.

A new British envoy to the Porte tried to get the sculptures released, and was bluntly told that Elgin’s entire operation had been illegal. Only after January of 1809, with the signature of a new Anglo-Ottoman treaty, did the atmosphere change, leading to a fresh document that enabled the export of the sculptures to resume.

During the parliamentary investigation which the British Museum mentions, Elgin was questioned hard as to whether he had abused his position as ambassador to pursue a personal transaction; he replied, absurdly, that, in his antiquarian activities, he was no different from any private archaeologist. But many legislators were unconvinced.

It seemed obvious that the objects for which Elgin was about to be paid £35,000 had been obtained by careful exploitation of diplomatic privilege and of the sweet state of Anglo-Ottoman relations. Elgin got his money, but that does not mean he was believed.

Is this really the kind of behaviour on which British officials should be basing their case? By stressing the very dubious argument for the legality of Elgin’s actions, they risk drawing further attention to the fundamental moral issues.

* Bruce Clark writes for The Economist on history, culture and ideas. He is author of his latest book “Athens: City of Wisdom.”

This article was previously published in Greek at kathimerini.gr, 18 February 2022

Bruce Clark also contributed his article 'Stealing Beauty' to BCRPM's articles section of this website. 

Boris Johnson was once such a fervent supporter of the Parthenon Marbles being returned to Athens that he wrote to the Greek culture minister to denounce the British government for not giving back the antiquities.

Greek daily newspaper Ta Nea brought to light today previously unseen and unpublished letters, written in 1986, when Johnson was an undergraduate at Oxford University and Oxford Union president.

In the notes, the future British Prime Minister argued passionately for the ancient sculptures’ “immediate” repatriation, accusing the British government of “sophistry and intransigence”.

Johnson, then 21, went as far as claiming that the British government’s policy on the Parthenon Marbles was “unacceptable to cultured people,” and lamented the “scandalous” way it was handling the issue.

He wrote two letters to the then Greek minister for culture, late actor Melina Mercouri, in which he sided unreservedly with the Greek government’s campaign for the relics to be reunited.

He also cited a letter which proves that Lord Elgin removed the sculptures from the Parthenon in the early 19th century without securing legal permission to do so, arguing that its revelation had made the British government’s position “even shakier.”

Despite his enthusiasm for the Marbles’ return as a student, Johnson has refused to countenance such a move during his time as Prime Minister, sticking to the same position as the British government he criticised so heavily in 1986. Last November, Johnson rebuffed a direct request by Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis for the Marbles to be repatriated.

In an exclusive interview with Ta Nea published in March 2021, the British premier claimed that the Parthenon Sculptures “were legally acquired by Lord Elgin under the appropriate laws of the time.”

This claim contradicts Johnson’s statement in 1986 that “the Turkish authorities denied ‘that the persons who had sold those marbles to [Elgin] had any right to dispose of them’.” Johnson accused Lord Elgin of “wholesale pillage” of the Parthenon, arguing that the Scottish peer exploited the “near anarchy” of the Ottoman Empire to remove the carvings.

The letters were found in an Oxford library. Their authenticity has been confirmed by an Oxford source and someone who served as a Greek state official at the time.

Their unearthing comes six months after Ta Nea found a forgotten article written by Johnson in April 1986, in which he urged the British government to return the artefacts to Greece, arguing that they had been unlawfully removed from the ancient temple in Athens.

British government sources tried to downplay the extent of Johnson’s U-turn, arguing that the 21-year-old classics student wrote the now-famous article in a momentary outburst of youthful enthusiasm, but he later changed his mind.

However, the revelation of two letters with similar content indicates that this was not a "momentary" event; the future head of the British government seemed to be devoted to the repatriation cause, knowing - and providing evidence to support it - that the sculptures were removed from the Parthenon without permission.

Athens has campaigned to have the 2,500-year-old artefacts returned from the British Museum since they were removed by Lord Elgin when he was Britain’s ambassador to the Sublime Porte. At the time, Greece was under Ottoman rule.

Johnson invited Mercouri, who became culture minister after an illustrious acting career, to speak in a debate at the Oxford Union on 12 June 1986, entitled: “[This house believes] that the Elgin Marbles Must be Returned to Athens.” He said it would be “a marvellous evening for the cause”. The chamber voted 167 to 85 in favour of the Marbles’ restitution.

In his first letter, dated March 10, 1986, the future Prime Minister and Conservative leader informed Mercouri that “it is my firm intention to hold a debate on an issue that is scandalously handled by the British government, and which I believe to be of great importance.”

He went on to say that “I think the majority of students agree with me when I say that there is absolutely no reason why the Elgin Marbles, superlatively the most important and beautiful treasures left to us by the ancient world, should not be returned immediately from the British Museum to their rightful home in Athens.”

He added that he believed Mercouri would win the vote, something that would send a clear message to Whitehall: “If the motion was successful, and I am sure that it would be, it would be a clear message to the British government that their policy is unacceptable to cultured people. I believe that it would be an important step in your campaign.”

On April 16, 1986, Johnson sent a second letter to the Greek culture minister, insisting that “the issue of the Elgin Marbles (…) has been handled with sophistry and intransigence by the British government”.

“Since the discovery of Elgin’s letter of 1811, the Government’s position has grown even shakier,” he stressed.

The said letter was written on July 31st, 1811, by Lord Elgin and addressed to the Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval. “My successors in the Embassy could not obtain permission for the removal of what I had not myself taken away. And on Mr Adair's being officially instructed to apply in my favour, he understood, ‘The Porte denied that the persons who had sold those marbles to me had any right to dispose of them’,” Elgin wrote.

Lord Elgin had previously received a letter from the former British Ambassador to Constantinople, Robert Adair, which suggested that Elgin had not acquired the marbles legitimately. A 2002 BBC News report noted that Adair’s letter “could help to resolve the row between Britain and Greece over the Elgin Marbles.”

Johnson ended his letter by reassuring Mercouri that the result of the debate “will be a foregone conclusion”. He added: “This will be a great event and a marvellous evening for the cause.”

“On March 21, 1986, under the instructions of Greek ambassador Stefanos Stathatos, I, along with embassy press officer Peter Thompson, and three members of the BCRPM, met with Johnson in Oxford to discuss the debate’s details. He was very receptive and sympathetic to our cause. He later fully adopted the points we sent him on the reunification of the sculptures," Dr Victoria Solomonidis, who was Cultural Counsellor at the Greek Embassy in London for 30 years, told Ta Nea.

“Years later, when he was mayor of London, I met him in his office accompanying ambassador Konstantinos Bikas. I reminded him of the 1986 debate and gave him a framed picture of him next to Mercouri. He smiled, and changed the subject,” added Solomonidis, member of the Melina Mercouri Foundation’s Board of Directors.

In search of ‘cheap ouzo and retsina’

On April 15, 1986, Johnson wrote to Peter Thompson, a press officer at the Greek embassy in London, asking for his help to find “cheap ouzo and retsina”, two of the most famous Greek alcoholic drinks.

“On the day before the debate we will be having a large and splendid party. To make the thing go with a swing, we are in search of cheap ouzo and retsina. I was informed that it might be feasible to obtain it through the Embassy. Could you possibly advise?” Johnson wrote.

The event, titled “The glory that was Greece”, took place on Wednesday 11 June. According to the Oxford Union’s term card, it was a toga party held in the union’s garden.

The term card read: “Come trip it nymphs and dryad maids withal. We bring lashings of the gift of Dionysus, ouzo, lamb souvlaki, and a cornucopia of Greek delicacies to the lyrical strains of a Greek band.”

Article written by Yannis Andritsopoulos for Ta Nea, published on Saturday, 02 July 2022 

28 July 2011

 John Melville-Jones writes for neokosmos.com

In recent years the nature of the document that was presented to the British Parliament in 1816, which authorised Lord Elgin to study and copy the ancient Greek sculptures on the Acropolis of Athens, has been investigated.

It is clear that it was not, as has so often been claimed, a 'firman' from the Ottoman sultan, because it lacks some of the formal elements that a true 'firman' would have had. Its exact nature is, however difficult to define. If an official 'firman' was ever issued (and no evidence now exists to prove that this happened), the Italian text that Lord Elgin laid before the parliament with an English translation may have been a précis of this. But it is more probable that it was a more or less accurate translation of an ad hoc document created by an Ottoman official in Athens. For this reason the translation of the document into English that was made by Lord Elgin's chaplain the Reverend Philip Hunt should have been faultless. But it contains a small but significant mistake.

The authorization to remove material from the Acropolis was repeated in the document, essentially in the same words (Hunt's translations follow): e quando volessero portar via qualche pezzi di pietra con vechie inscrizioni, e figure, non sia fatta lor' oposizione …'and should they wish to take away any pieces of stone with old inscriptions, and figures, that no opposition be made …' and: non si faccia opposizione al portar via qualche pezzi di pietra con inscrizioni, e figure … 'nor hinder them from taking away any pieces of stone with inscriptions, and figures …' Two other translations of this document have been made (as noted in the article by Williams cited above).
 
They all translate the Italian phrase 'qualche pezzi di pietra' in the same way, as 'any pieces of stone'. But this is wrong. Anyone who looks up qualche in an Italian-English dictionary will find that 'any' is one of its meanings. But dictionaries often lead the unwary astray, and 'any' is only a permissible translation in some circumstances. For example, hai qualche libro che posso leggere? might be translated as 'Do you have any book(s) that I can read?' But the proper translation of qualche pezzi di pietra is not 'any pieces of stone' but 'a few pieces of stone' (the Italian of the document is not the best in this case - it is normal to use the singular form of a noun with qualche, so we would expect to read qualche pezzo, but this is not important).

The only time, to my knowledge, that this phrase has been translated correctly into English was in a speech made by Melina Mercouri (the Greek Minister for Culture) to the Oxford Union in 1986.

This does not seem to have attracted any general attention. How many 'pieces of stone' would be implied by qualche pezzi? It is possible to suspect that the language is deliberately vague, but if you ask an Italian what number the phrase might imply, he will smile happily and make supportive gestures if you suggest three or five or seven, but when you reach ten or a larger number he will begin to look doubtful.

So if the conditions of the alleged 'firman' had been strictly observed, Lord Elgin would not have been allowed to take away as many pieces of stone from the Parthenon and other buildings as he did. And if the British Parliamentary Select Committee had had a more exact translation before it in 1816 when it was formed to discuss the possible acquisition of the Elgin Marbles, this might have led to some modification of their decision.

There is no record of any objection from the Ottoman authorities to Lord Elgin's removal of the large number of 'pieces of stone' that he did in fact take, so the mistranslation of this phrase in the 'firman' now has little force in the current argument concerning the repatriation of the Parthenon sculptures. But it is desirable to put the correct translation of the Italian text on the record.

John Melville-Jones is an associate Professor in Classics and Ancient History at University of Western Australia. This note has been prepared on behalf of the Australian Macedonian Advisory Council.

20 November 2021, The Tablet

Just over 400 years have passed since Sir Henry Wotton, travelling through Europe on official business, offered a definition of his role: “An ambassador is an honest gentleman sent to lie abroad for the good of his country.”

Even if the preceding words are too harsh, the final six remain important. In everything they do or say, diplomats must serve their homeland, not their personal agenda. A recruit to the Foreign Office is warned of a code which forbids any use of an official position “to further your private interests or those of others.” Equally taboo is accepting “gifts or hospitality” which “might reasonably be seen to compromise your personal judgement or integrity.”

The past, you may say, is a foreign country, where things were done differently. But how differently? When Thomas Bruce, the seventh Earl of Elgin, was appointed ambassador to the Ottoman Sultan in 1799, it was an opportunity not just to consolidate an alliance against the French but to acquire some of the greatest artefacts ever fashioned – in order to decorate his house in Scotland.

He would later give different accounts of his motivation: at times he insisted that he was acting nobly to further British aesthetics. He would claim, quite implausibly, that he only decided to remove sculptures, as opposed to having them drawn, when he saw they were in acute danger. In more private communications, he was more frank. During the summer of 1801, when an exceptional military alliance seemed to offer exceptional personal opportunities, there is no mistaking the excited tone in which he writes to Giovanni Lusieri, his monument-stripper in chief: “The plans for my house in Scotland should be known to you. The building is a subject that occupies me greatly, and offers me the means of placing in a useful, distinguished and agreeable way, the various things that you may perhaps be able to procure for me.”

Studying the documentary evidence for the extraction of the Parthenon sculptures, which began in 1801 and continued intensively over two years, it is hard to avoid a sense of how shocking the operation was to many contemporaries. Was permission given? The original firman (an Ottoman letter of permission) has never been found but let us assume the authenticity of the Italian copy. The person induced to issue it was not the Sultan (who may never have known) but an official several notches down, the deputy to the Grand Vizier; and it has never been clear what exactly he meant by allowing the removal of “some pieces of stone with old inscriptions and figures” from the Acropolis. As the historian William St Clair concluded after a rigorous examination, Elgin’s agents used “cajolery, threats and bribes” to persuade Ottoman officials in Athens to exceed, at least in spirit, the firman’s terms.

When Lusieri and his team went to work with ropes, pulleys and saws, the spectacle was horrifying to British and Ottoman observers alike. As Edward Daniel Clarke, a traveller and antiquarian, describes the scene; “Down came the fine masses of Pentelican marble, scattering their white fragments with thundering noise among the ruins. The disdar (commander of the Ottoman garrison) took his pipe from his mouth and letting fall a tear, said in a most emphatic tone of voice, telos !
It was a scandalous act even with due consideration for the spirit of the times, which was itself pretty horrifying to modern sensibilities. The spirit might be described by the elusive New Testament Greek word harpagmos which refers to the act of grabbing, the thing grabbed or to a grabbing kind of mindset. For the powerful nations of western Europe and their wealthy representatives, Hellenism and its physical legacy was something to be grabbed: either by measuring, drawing and painting the ancient artefacts or, ultimately, by removing them.

Pause for a moment and consider what message is being sent to the world by the British establishment when it retrospectively endorses Elgin’s actions as procedurally correct and legal. Such formalistic arguments cut less and less ice in world where the tide of anger over Europe’s historic arrogance is growing. It surfaced most recently in September when a UNESCO committee, a rotating group of 21 countries, called with unprecedented firmness for the return of the Parthenon marbles to Athens. This emboldened Kyriakos Mitsotakis, the Greek prime minister, to make a formal request for talks on [reunification] during a visit to Britain this week.

The trustees of the British Museum insist, accurately enough, that they have no mandate to do anything except act in the interest of the institution and its educational mission. The British government hides behind the independence of the museum; it is not for any cabinet minister to interfere in the decision-making of such a robustly independent body. As a museum spokesperson said in response to the UNESCO vote, the trustees “have a legal and moral responsibility to preserve and maintain all the collections in their care and to make them accessible to world audiences.” But that need not be the final answer. Ways can be found to overcome the legal obstacles. A law was passed in 2009 to enable the Museum to return objects that had been looted by the Nazis. An equally powerful imperative is building up for the return of objects that were grabbed in the colonial era with egregious cynicism. These include the Benin heads that were seized in 1897 after British forces looted a royal palace in Nigeria.

In 2019, Germany vowed to work towards the return of imperial loot taken “in ways that are legally or morally unjustifiable today.” All over the world, the moral pressure to rectify (or at least not gloat over) the legacy of colonialism is growing, with the support of rising powers like China and India.  sensed and anticipated that trend when he said in 2017 that France’s museums should no longer be holding colonial booty from Africa, starting a process that culminated last year in a law which provided for some restitution.

Suppose Britain’s cultural establishment were to renounce the legacy of Elgin and instead throw itself behind the cause of the reunification of the Parthenon sculptures, perhaps on the understanding that Greece would freely grant or lend to the British people other artefacts of real value. Amidst the euphoric chain-reaction that would be triggered, wonderful new ideas would emerge as to how best to share the legacy of Greece with the world. Among the distinguished cultural and academic figures who advocate such a move, the term “reunification” is carefully chosen. If the sculptures now in London belong anywhere it is with the parts of the frieze that remain in Athens and are now superbly displayed, in Greek light and with the Parthenon in view, in the new Acropolis Museum. For the first time in two centuries, visitors would be invited to admire the great majority of the frieze, with its chariots, horsemen, tray-bearers and water-carriers … and ponder what they mean: the fact is that nobody knows.

In its handout on the marbles, the British Museum rightly notes that the Parthenon has a “complex history”, including phases as a “temple, a church, a mosque and now an archaeological site”. If there is a flaw in the way the Acropolis and its monuments are now presented to the world, it lies in the exclusive emphasis placed on the era of Pericles, leading statesman of Athens from 461 to 429 BC – perhaps the greatest of the Rock’s many ages, but not the only one. Eight centuries before Pericles, the citadel hosted a thriving Mycenean palace; two centuries before, the rock’s sanctity, whose violation incurred a terrible, inter-generational curse, became a wild card in Athenian power struggles. And the Parthenon was a temple of monotheism for longer than it served the Olympian religion: a Greek Christian cathedral for perhaps seven centuries, a Roman Catholic one for another two, then a mosque. For Christians, the mysterious light that emanated from the white pillars became an attraction for pilgrims and a sign of the Virgin Mary. In 1394 the Florentine duke Nerio Acciaiuoli bequeathed the entire modest town of Athens to the Catholic cathedral of Santa Maria, in other words the Parthenon.

It is an Ottoman Muslim traveller, Evliya Celebi, who gave one of the greatest descriptions of the Parthenon frieze: “The human mind cannot indeed comprehend those images – they are white magic, beyond human capacity: whoever looks upon them falls into ecstasy, his body grows weak and his eyes water for delight.” And the Acropolis has seen an extraordinary modern history – for example in 1941 when two brave young Athenians scrambled up a vertical tunnel first used by Myceneans in the middle of the night and tore down the Nazi banner that flew menacingly over the city. As described later by Manolis Glezos, emerging from the dark passage onto the moon-lit rock was a moment of spiritual ecstasy as well as political defiance.

All these moments have their place in the story of the Acropolis. It is a shame that the average guide book devotes, say 50 pages to the Periclean century and at most a paragraph to the monotheistic millennium. But if the injuries left by Elgin’s depredation could only heal, then the masters of the Acropolis would more easily find the freedom and confidence to present the story of the Sacred Rock in its mysterious entirety. And the whole world would joyfully assist them.

Bruce Clark’s article was published in The Tablet (Saturday 20 November 2021).

Bruce Clark writes for The Economist on history, culture and ideas. His latest book  'Athens: City of Wisdom', is published by Head of Zeus and is available to purchase via The Tablet also.

Ta Nea, 12 March 2019 

Greece’s daily newspaper, Ta Nea, has seen, studied and photographed the controversial ‘firman’, the Ottoman document used by Lord Elgin to remove the Parthenon Sculptures and bring them to London. It is the Italian version of the ‘firman’ which was acquired by the British Museum 13 years ago and has since been kept in its Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities.

Ioannis Andritsopoulos,Ta Nea's UK Correspondant

The original ‘firman’ allegedly written in the Ottoman language has been lost, with several experts questioning both if it ever existed and the authenticity of the document currently held in London. The so-called firman played a key role in the House of Commons’ decision to buy the Sculptures from Elgin in 1816.

To read Yannis Andritsopulos' article in Ta Nea, follow the link here.

Several historians and lawyers cast doubt on whether Elgin legitimately removed the Marbles from the Acropolis site.

“Concerning the precise wording of the two 'firmans' (legally binding official royal permits) that the Ottoman Sultanate is said to have granted to His Britannic Majesty's Ambassador to the Sublime Porte (Thomas Bruce, the 7th Lord Elgin), all or almost all is smoke and mirrors. For no literal transcripts of the original Turkish documents exist - or are known to exist - today. One thing, however, all sane commentators agree on: no firman can possibly have granted Elgin explicit permission to do what he and his agents in fact did, namely destroy rather than remove to safekeeping significant portions of the original Parthenon marbles.”, said Paul Cartledge, A.G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture emeritus, University of Cambridge, and Vice Chairman of the British Committee for the Reunification of the Parthenon Marbles.

Professor Paul Cartlege

“The so-called 'firman' was an official communication from the Grand Vizier or in his absence his deputy to the Governor and Judge of Athens. It was not, as has been claimed by staff of the British Museum 'permission given to Lord Elgin'. Plentiful contemporary historical sources confirm that the local Ottoman officials exceed the terms of the document, as the Ottoman Government itself acknowledged. It was their understanding that the pieces had been removed 'without remonstrance' that persuaded a Parliamentary Select Committee in 1816 to recommend the purchase of the Elgin collection. They had, of course, no authority to pronounce on Ottoman law, nor did their decision to waive doubts about legality, on which they did not make a recommendation, amount to asserting legal ownership. What some may take from Dr Fischer's remark is that he is claiming that an act of the British Parliament could somehow give legitimacy to a messy business of what in modern terms would be described as bribes, threats, and political pressures” commented renowned William St. Clair, senior research fellow at the Institute of English Studies, School of Advanced Study, University of London.

William St Clair