by Susan Nagel
Chapter 14
SAILING, SAILING
In the summer of 1802, Constantinople lay under the siege of warring pashas and the plague. The Elgins decided to alter their original plan of returning to a new house in Büyük Déré and wait out the storm. Instead they would continue, together, to visit sites of ancient import. On June 15, they left Athens for a cruise in the archipelago. On the sixteenth, they dined on the promontory of Sunium and saw the Temple of Minerva, whose “walls having fallen down, the light passing through the columns gives it a very lively look. It is built of white marble, the whiteness of which surpassed anything I had seen before,” she wrote to her parents. On June 17, they saw the Isle of Helen, where Paris took Helen when he escaped from Sparta to Troy.
They visited Zea and were the guests of honor at the consul’s house and slept at the home of the Neapolitan consul, “his house being the best in the place.” The consul’s daughters sang songs in Greek, Italian, and French and even danced the minuet to amuse Mary. Seven months pregnant, she mounted a donkey to ride the steep hills, for, as she described the place, “the City is bid on the summit of an almost perpendicular mountain, and in many places we rode up a regular stair cut out in the rock and hanging over a precipice.” They went on to Marathon, where they visited Fauvel’s excavations, sponsored by the Comte de Choiseul-Gouffier. Even their sailors got the archaeological bug, and Mary reported that they went digging and came back to the ship with fragments of pottery and silver. Also in Marathon, they visited the cave of Pan whose nearby stream surrounded by oleanders and myrtles in flower wafted a lovely scent that made their visit remarkable. Elgin examined the plain of Marathon where so many Persians had perished in the famous battle in 490 BC. In July, they went on to Teno and Mycenae, where they were feted by local dignitaries. The trip seemed to agree with Elgin, and Mary wrote home to his mother that his health was greatly improving.
On the way to Delos, they were attacked by pirates who fired at the Narcissus, and Captain Donnelly fired above three hundred shots back. Mary reported that they were all delighted when the pirate galley sank and were relieved that no one on board the Narcissus was injured. They scoured the island for the bandits and captured their captain, Zachary, and twenty-three of their thirty-four-member crew. The Elgins and their companions took a tour of Delos, which Mary dismissed as “a desert, not even a shepherd on it.” They sailed through a storm that made Mary sick, and she was very happy to disembark at Paros, where she saw orange groves, myrtle trees, fountains, and cascades. Elgin went to see the grotto of Antiparos, but the journey was too much for Mary, now in her eighth month.
On August 2, Mary wrote to her mother-in-law that when they arrived at Smyrna they found that Sidney Smith had spread negative propaganda about her and her husband. She was not happy to remain there, and as soon as she learned that the plague was over in Constantinople, she made plans to depart for their house in Büyük Déré. She wrote to her mother, “Such a number of children are dying of the hoping cough … I see numbers of poor little things go by every day; they dress them up with flowers and carry them open,” and told Mrs. Nisbet the poignant story of one little girl on her deathbed. The little girl’s father, an important Turk, was so beyond despair that he called the Catholic priest, Père Luigi, and begged him to read the Christian Bible in hopes that the Christian God could cure his child if his own Muslim God would not.
She received the happy news that her parents had arrived in Calais and excitedly wrote home for suggestions on shopping in Paris for when she made her own journey home. Although Elgin yet had business to do in Smyrna and needed to stay there, Mary was determined to get out of the heat that Captain Cracraft had pronounced worse than that in India. Much to her dismay, the ships were being ordered to Alexandria and her journey would be over land, which for a very pregnant woman was a nightmare of discomfort.
Mary wanted to look forward and prepare for the birth of their third child. She and Elgin had decided to ask Lady Robert, Lady Charlotte, and Mr. Bruce to be godparents. Ever conscious of her public appearances, despite her extreme discomfort—on many occasions she came close to fainting—she decided to conquer Sidney Smith and his nasty stories with her usual panache. She sent for her diamonds, which Mr. Morier delivered, in order to dazzle the locals, and rising to the occasion, she entertained in great style. She, in turn, gained everyone’s affection and became the guest of honor at the consulates and in the homes of local society. She reported with glee that at one party a handsome Englishman, captain of a merchant sailing ship, flirted with her profusely, to which Elgin responded, “Captain Francis, remember I am here.”
She left Smyrna and, sadly, Elgin on the eighteenth of August, traveling with her maid, Masterman, the children, and their caravan of attaches, officials, artists, and secretaries in carriages. Elgin surprised Mary with the delivery of a letter for her to read on her journey. Just one day after they parted, she wrote to him, “Do you think of Me? Do you miss poor Dotty in the room when you go to bed?” En route, the heat was punishable and their vans turned over at least twice, but amazingly, Mary was unharmed. “Pray tell Father I manoeuvred the troops consisting of 50 people for five days; the fifth day Elgin joined our party … Hunt will tell you I am the best General ever was seen.” The only enjoyable part of the trip was the hot baths at Brusa and their brief stay in Magnesia at the enchanting palace of Zaria Osmon Ogla, who waited to lavish Mary with hospitality.
On Saturday, September 4, they arrived at Büyük Déré. “We had not been in the house two minutes, before it was full of visitors,” she wrote her mother, and now that the French were free, because of the peace, she wanted to inspect the prison where they had resided. She was invited to the fabulous new palace the sultan had built for Hanum, and in his happiness to see Elgin, the Captain Pasha presented him with the dagger that Napoleon had given to Murad Bey (the ruler of the Mamelukes). Murad Bey had, on his deathbed, presented the dagger to Osman Bey Tambourgi, whom he had wished to succeed him. It was set with rubies, diamonds, and pearls, but Mary pretended to dismiss its importance. “It is the oddest shaped thing I ever saw … I shall have a glass case made for it and put it on a pretty table.” On September 23, Matilda Harriet, whom Mary would call “Harriet,” was born, and at last Elgin received word that he could return to England.
Almost simultaneously with the birth of Harriet came the hideous news that Elgin’s ship, the Mentor, had sunk off the coast of Cythera, the island where, according to legend, Aphrodite was born. On board were the Nisbets’ gymnasiarch chair and other wonderful treasures. Elgin was frantic and communicated with ships in the Mediterranean, commanding their captains to come to the aid of his vessel. Hamilton had offered local sailors huge amounts of money, and divers went down to search for the antiquities. As they celebrated Harriet’s christening with an underlying sadness, Mary noticed that in fact the plague had not disappeared from Constantinople. “By way of hiding it, they carry the dead bodies in Pera, by in the night time, which is so far lucky, one has the less chance of meeting them.”
At Christmas, she wrote to her mother of her hope that “next Christmas Eve we shall be all together—what perfect happiness that idea carries with it.” She assured her mother-in-law that Harriet, like the other children, had been vaccinated. On January 17, 1803, the Elgin family boarded the Diane and left Constantinople for the last time. They sailed back through the Dardanelles and westward toward home. It had been three years and two months since they had arrived in Turkey. They were now a family of five, and they were returning with irreplaceable memories.
They stopped at Athens and said good-bye to the Logothetis after attending, in full jeweled splendor, the wedding of the Logothetis’ daughter. They were pleased to see the progress that Captain Clarke of the Braakel was making with their cases. Clarke had remained in Athens for five weeks just to transport the Elgins’ artifacts. Elgin’s team of artists joined them for the return trip, but Lusieri remained in Greece to finish his drawings. Contr
ary winds sent them to Candia, where Mary saw lepers living in the streets. She had seen all the wonders and the terrors and was more than ready to go home.
As they passed the wreckage of their own Mentor, Captain Maling remarked to Mary that the ship would never again be seaworthy. While Elgin wanted to raise the ship and retrieve its contents at any cost, Mary was ambivalent. She confided to her mother that the search had “already cost an immense deal” and that any future diving scheduled for the spring would “cost a sad sum of money.” When they disembarked at Malta, Elgin was ebullient and wrote his mother that he was thrilled to arrive in “Christendom.” The moment they had all passed quarantine, they would be on their way back to Broomhall—where Mary had been mistress of the house for only one week four years earlier.
Chapter 15
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM
In the early nineteenth century Malta was, indeed, the outpost of Christendom. The Knights of St. John, also called the Hospitalers of St. John, had long served Christianity and were world renowned for building incomparable hospitals in places like Jerusalem and Venice. When in 1522, Muslim conqueror Suleiman the Magnificent expelled the Knights of St. John from Rhodes in order to irritate the Catholic Emperor Charles V of Spain, Charles responded by presenting the tiny but strategically located island of Malta to the Knights, who relocated there. Once settled on Malta, the Knights of St. John became simply known as “The Knights of Malta” and proceeded to build another hospital, their most famous. The island, under Napoleonic protection until Nelson’s victory in Egypt, became a junction for English military, commercial, and political travelers. There, they would receive the excellent care of the doctors at the Knights of Malta hospital after having been exposed to exotic diseases contracted in Turkey, India, and Africa.
Quarantine on Malta became a kind of social event for English travelers, and when Mary and Elgin arrived with their children, they met old friends. In the two weeks they were there, Elgin’s health grew stronger and he decided to change their plans; he informed Mary that they would not, in fact, return directly to England but travel through Italy and France. This tour, denied English travelers for a decade, was now possible thanks to the March 1802 Treaty of Amiens. Elgin had been in contact with the foreign secretary, Lord Hawkesbury, who assured him that there would be clear sailing ahead. Elgin decided that this journey would be better spent without the children, so he arranged for them to proceed home by ship on the Diana with Captain Maling. Mary was furious and wrote to her mother that she hoped that Mrs. Nisbet would be “tempted” to travel to Portsmouth to claim the three young children—Harriet being only six months old. Dr. Scott was sent along. Mary instructed her mother to send all correspondence through Ambassador Lord Whitworth in Paris.
The Elgins blithely traveled to Naples and Rome, where they visited Lady Beverly, an old family friend. They headed north to Leghorn (Livorno) and Florence and crossed the Alps into France. Tension, however, was growing between England and France. Immediately after the treaty signing, Napoleon seized the advantageous moment and waged a public relations campaign with the Turks. He sent Sébastiani back to the East to resume relations, pointing a finger at the British who remained on Malta. As Napoleon wanted the British out of Malta in accord with the Treaty of Amiens, he used Sébastiani to make the Turks uncomfortable with their English allies. Sébastiani spread propaganda to the Turks implying that since the British would not evacuate Malta, they would probably invade Turkish territory next. The British countered by pointing out that Napoleon had violated not only the 1797 Treaty of Campo Formio by refusing to evacuate Germanic and lowland territories but also the 1801 Treaty of Luneville by annexing Piedmont and Elba. The British were not leaving Malta unless and until Napoleon demonstrated his intent to comply with his promises.
At the same time the Elgins were touring France, Napoleon began seizing British ships in French waters and confiscating their contents. In London, French Royalists and Bourbon sympathizers were taking advantage of the growing sentiment against Napoleon and published a French-language newspaper called L’Ambigu, which featured a satirical portrait of Napoleon’s head placed on the body of the Sphinx as its emblem. Napoleon was furious and ordered the publication of anti-British articles in the government-sponsored newspaper, Moniteur. In February, he summoned Ambassador Whitworth to a meeting where he screamed at the seasoned—and apparently unflappable—diplomat for two hours. In April, the first consul decided to settle his differences with the United States in the form of a practical real estate deal. On April 30, the Louisiana Purchase contract was signed by France and the United States, turning over some 565 million acres for less than three cents an acre. This act freed Napoleon of his responsibilities in the West, allowing him to focus on Europe and the East, and it also replenished his coffers with fifteen million dollars—money the young American government had negotiated through British bankers. In safe possession of the British-financed enhancement to his treasury, two weeks after the deal was struck Napoleon renewed his attempt to intimidate Lord Whitworth with histrionic rage. Once again, Whitworth responded coolly. He packed his bags and left Paris on May 12. Later, Napoleon reflected on that meeting and claimed that he had learned an important lesson. From then on, he would dispatch emissaries to talk with foreign ministers instead of dealing directly with them himself.
The consulate made no effort to notify British citizens traveling in France of impending war or of Whitworth’s departure. On May 17, the British government ordered the detention of French ships in British waters, and on the following day, they declared war. The approximately fourteen hundred Englishmen who had been traveling or stationed in France were then prohibited from leaving France. Mary wrote to her parents that on May 27 Elgin surrendered himself as a Prisonnier de Guerre. The fourteen hundred or so détenus (detainees) were removed to twelve depots around the countryside—at Verdun, Sarre Louis, Givet, Arras, Valenciennes, Longwy, Briançon, Mont Dauphin, Cambrai, Sedan, Auxonne, and Bitche, whose horrible Castle of Tears was anathema to frightened English captives. Of the entire group, there were about four hundred wealthy English tourists who were encouraged to spend their money in the towns where they were deposited, and for the most part they were treated as guests, but they could not leave France. Napoleon singled out about twenty VIP captives, mostly those with noble titles or political positions who he knew could be held for various kinds of ransom. These prisoners were allowed for the moment to live luxuriously in Paris until Napoleon decided their fate. Elgin was of particular interest to the first consul: he was both an aristocrat and a person of considerable political position, had a very high profile as ambassador to Constantinople, and was already controversial because of his excavation of the Parthenon. Lord Elgin thus became the object of Napoleon’s especial vindictiveness.
Chapter 16
SHANGHAIED
The arrest of innocent civilians and a distinguished ambassador outraged the British and most of Europe. Parliament protested to Napoleon, but their complaints fell on deaf ears. The British scored a coup, however, gaining Bonaparte’s attention, when they captured General Boyer, one of Napoleon’s most talented officers. A rumor filtered across the English Channel to the French that Boyer was being tortured in an English dungeon. The French demanded revenge.
Napoleon sprang into action, making Elgin his scapegoat. There was a public relations opportunity here that the first consul did not want to miss. Napoleon and his foreign minister, Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand, had been made well aware of Elgin’s persistent requests for the humane treatment of French citizens in Turkey through the testimony of Napoleon’s own cousin, Colonel Sébastiani, now General Sébastiani, who had actually been among those thrown into the Yedikule prison. Talleyrand, however, advised Napoleon to disseminate false information to the public. The French public received a daily dose in the Moniteur of the evildoings of Lord Elgin. Rightfully indignant about this smear on his character, Elgin had nowhere to turn. Certainly Napoleon’s propaganda mach
ine would not print Elgin’s side of the story, and all of his letters written home were opened by French authorities. Elgin explained to Mary that any attempt on his part to try to smuggle any correspondence on the person of a friend would be counterproductive, ruining his already dim chances of returning home.
Mary received word that the children had arrived safely in England. She begged her parents to take them home to Archerfield, give them sweet mercury when they were ill, and have them tossed in the laundry baskets on the sand dunes on the bay as she had been when she was a girl. Mrs. Nisbet wrote that she was horrified at the lack of civility of the Greek paramannas, but Mary insisted that the children retain their beloved nurses until she herself returned. She also instructed her mother to encourage Bruce to speak Greek with his nanny and not broken English. The Dowager Countess of Elgin, who had never before laid eyes on her grandchildren, was so enchanted with the brood that she presented them all, Greek “savages” in tow, to King George III.
If there were any pleasures to be had that summer in Paris by Lord and Lady Elgin, they were the discovery that Mary was once again pregnant and Elgin’s reunion with a childhood friend and neighbor, Robert Ferguson of Raith. Ferguson was three years younger than Elgin. Throughout the 1790s, while Elgin lived in Europe in service of his king, Ferguson had also expatriated, but for other reasons. A raging antimonarchist who believed devoutly in the works of Thomas Paine and Madame de Staël, Ferguson scribbled passionate invectives in his journals against the king and the tyranny of rulers. Although he had deep political convictions and often considered running for political office back in Scotland, he fled both what he considered an intolerable system and an uncomfortable family feud.
