Mistress of the Elgin Marbles

by Susan Nagel

  Mary’s optimism and energy personified and predated the new age, and she would not allow her advancing years to serve as an excuse to close her doors to either the public or her family. Whether she was in London or in the country, her home became a home for her children and their children, and for the many longtime and loyal friends she had known over the years. As she entered her late seventies, the Maxwells, the Grants, and the Christophers, with an eye on her fortune, became a constant presence wherever Mary went. Little Constance, Mary’s main heiress, born in 1843, would prove, in action and spirit, to be an echo of her grandmother. In the early 1850s, Mary often traveled by rail to London from Berwick-upon-Tweed and added an additional stop on her rounds—Creedy Park, Henry and Fanny’s estate, where Mary was always welcomed as the matriarch. Henry and Fanny, in turn, made frequent pilgrimages, along with grown children and grandchildren, to Scotland and London to be with Mary.

  Throughout her long life, she had traveled great distances, and when, toward her journey’s end, she returned to the home in which she had been born, she faced her old age with the same irrepressible spirit as she had the Ottoman sultan and the ferocious French emperor. In the mid-nineteenth century there were only some six hundred people who owned 80 percent of the land in Scotland, making it the country with the highest concentration of landownership in the fewest hands in all of Europe, and Mary remained among the first on that list. She, too, had kept an eye on her fortune, one of her farmers being George Hope of Fenton Barnes, widely known as one of Scotland’s most successful and innovative farmers. The growing efficiency of the farms on her land made her property more valuable than ever before. Her great practicality was, fortunately for others, tempered by her great sociability. Her gracious hospitality remained her hallmark until her dying day. She opened her home to the local servants for their “Ball Bellow Stairs” and to the members of the Curling Club for their dinner. Five days after her seventy-seventh birthday, on April 23, 1855, recovering from an arduous winter, Mary wrote in her diary with excitement that she got to take “My first Drive for nearly 6 months!” Although other elderly women had chosen to live in seclusion, Mary never even considered that an option. On June 30, 1855, she hosted, of all groups, the Total Abstinence Party, whose guest speaker was her cousin, William Belhaven. Mary’s father, William Nisbet, a lover of great wines, whose fields of grain had produced untold barrels of ale, would have laughed at the delicious irony of this event. It was Mary’s final entry in her diary; it was her last party and her last practical joke. She died at Archerfield on July ninth.

  EPILOGUE

  Mary’s body was carried from Archerfield to Kensal Green and placed beside Robert Ferguson’s. As eager as they were to inherit her fortune, her children were equally anxious to bury their mother’s notoriety and wash away its stain. Her grave remained without a marker for some sixty years until World War I, when a family member decided to commemorate her life and death. An incorrect birth date on the headstone offers a telling glimpse of a long-forgotten woman. In an attempt to disguise their legacy, Mary and Robert Dundas Christopher, upon inheriting the Nisbet fortune, chose not to live at Archerfield but at another estate called Winton, and they re-created themselves as the “Christopher Nisbet Hamiltons,” removing the emphasis away from the name Nisbet. As Mary wore her name proudly all of her life, that snub would have stung. Although her father was indeed part Hamilton, he never chose to bear the Hamilton standard, colors, and accoutrement, as did Mary and Robert Christopher Nisbet Hamilton.

  By the 1880s, Mary’s granddaughter Constance had inherited the bulk of the fortune. In his book When Squires and Farmer Thrived, A. G. Bradley recalled his own visit to the East Lothian farms where the level of prosperity was unrivaled in all of Europe. Having seen her father rule her mother with an iron fist, Connie decided that she would control her own fortune, much as her grandmother had, and would therefore remain unmarried. As she was the richest young woman in Scotland, there were many suitors. One story told was based on the August 20, 1859, visit to Dirleton by the Prince of Wales. Apparently, the prince arrived at Constance’s doorstep to offer his hand in marriage and just as he was about to “pop the question,” a telegram arrived from his mama (Queen Victoria) reading “Get off your knee. We’ve got a better offer.” Despite the fact that she did not become the Princess of Wales, Constance, hosted spectacular festivities reminiscent of her grandmother’s extravaganza for King George III, at every one of her East Lothian estates in honor of the queen’s Golden Jubilee on June 21,1887. The Haddington Courier reported on June 24:

  Innerwick Yesterday, the first of the series of festive gatherings, given on her East Lothian estates in honour of the Queen’s Jubilee by Miss Nisbet Hamilton, took place, not fewer than 500 people being entertained in the beautiful glen, the green sward of which during the afternoon, presented a most animated appearance. The sports began about two o’clock, when all kinds of games were engaged in, young and old vying with each other in the exhibition of their loyal attachment to the Queen. Refreshments of the most substantial character were provided, copious libations of tea being accompanied by meat sandwiches, mutton pies, and a liberal allowance of delicious cake. The East Linton brass band was in attendance, and provided excellent music, the livelier strains of which the younger portion of the company engaged with much spirit in reels, polkas, and other favourite dances.

  Afterward, some four thousand people were entertained at Dirleton, Winton, and Biel, and others in England on her estates at Bloxholm. In 1882, seventy-four years after Mary Nisbet waged an unprecedented battle for her own property, England finally passed the Married Woman’s Property Act, enabling a woman to control her own properties regardless of her marital status. With her fortune no longer threatened by a possible marriage, Connie decided to marry, and at the age of forty-five she married Henry Ogilvy on September 11, 1888.

  It was the wedding of the year. The press turned out as if Constance had in fact become the Princess of Wales. The bride had commissioned a brand-new chapel to be built by Rowland Anderson for the wedding at Biel. The chapel was dedicated to Saint Margaret of Scotland. The local populace gathered along the roads by seven-thirty in the morning; some had traveled in the middle of the night to get there. Constance wore white velvet brocade and satin trimmed in Brussels lace with five diamond stars that served as buttons. She wore a sparkling diamond tiara whose brilliance reflected the two rows of altar candlelight and glistening silver sanctuary lamps. A full choral service was conducted by Bishop Dowden of Edinburgh, who used the prayer book once owned by Lady Robert Manners, the bride’s great-great-grandmother, and used by Archbishop Socker at King George Ill’s wedding. Arches of white heather filled the church.

  After the wedding the bride’s Hamilton standard, which had flown over Biel, was replaced by a new flag bearing the new arms of Nisbet Hamilton Ogilvy. All around East Lothian bonfires, fireworks, and even tar barrel rolling expressed the infectious joy of the day. The townspeople regaled the bride with extraordinary gifts, digging deeply into their very limited finances to demonstrate their considerable affection for her. The people of Dunbar purchased a beautiful Boulle clock; the children of the Gullane School presented a prayer book bound in ivory. Everyone knew that all of Constance’s homes were resplendent with incomparable paintings, antiques, silver, and jewelry. These relatively extravagant offerings from ordinary people would not impress her for their material value, but they served as a reflection of the generosity that she had shown people; she was Mary Nisbet’s granddaughter and had learned gracious hospitality and the knack for pleasing crowds at her grandmother’s knee.

  In 1889, Constance once again proved a lavish entertainer when she held a great New Year Fete at Biel for one thousand people. Toward the end of her life, however, she chose to live more quietly at Winton.

  Mary’s grand estates and family tree have undergone varying transformations. The golf course in Gullane known as Muirfield was completed in 1891 and the following year was
the site of the British Open. Muirfield, considered one of the greatest golf courses in the world, has hosted many British Open championships and, ironically, remains to this day an “all-male” bastion. True to the colorful locale, sheep were allowed to continue grazing on the links in the presence of world-famous golfers until 1956.

  Upon her death, Constance left Winton and Pencaitland to her nephew Henry Ogilvy and the remainder of her East Lothian properties to Lucy’s grandson, Colonel John Patrick Grant. Colonel Grant, who never married, lived at Biel with his also unmarried sisters, dividing the house to avoid any scandalous conjecture. He left the estate to a Brooke nephew, who sold it to its tenant farmer. Mary’s beloved Archerfield was leased at one time to Prime Minister Asquith and became the Scottish 10 Downing Street, welcoming politicians like Sir Winston Churchill through its doors. For many years after that time, Archerfield stood in majestic disrepair, horrifically used in the 1960s as a grain storage facility. The estate has recently been developed into a premier golf resort, including a five-star hotel and houses along the greens, the manse itself converted into condominiums.

  At the beginning of the twentieth century, Henry Ogilvy’s brother, Frederick, fell in love with a young English beauty, Gertrude Sherbrooke, with whom he had a daughter, Ann; after Frederick’s untimely death from eating a bad oyster, Gertrude married again. Her second husband was the widowed 9th Earl of Elgin and 13th of Kincardine, James Bruce’s son, Victor. The Earl of Elgin and Gertrude Ogilvy together had one son, Bernard, but Victor died before Bernard’s birth. This young mother of two children reunited the Bruce and Nisbet-by-marriage clans, but she was not the only one to do so. Victor’s own daughter, Lady Christian, married another Ogilvy brother, Herbert.

  It has been six generations since Mary Nisbet of Dirleton and the Earl of Elgin battled over the destiny of their dynasty, and today it seems that all has been forgiven. Boisterous family reunions are often held at Winton House where children dash about in the very evident presence of Mary’s portraits and possessions on respectful display. Perhaps the passionate dialogue provoked by the Elgin marbles has taught us a lesson about preserving the past and the very sad consequences of neglecting our historical treasures.

  APPENDIX

  Letter from Philip Hunt to Mrs. William Hamilton Nisbet, written while he was still detained at Pau, February 1805.

  Dear Madame,

  I have more than once felt ashamed at having recourse to Lord and Lady Elgin to be the interpreters of my sentiments to You, on subjects that required the interference of some friend in England: but my situation in this country may perhaps plead my excuse for having hesitated to commence a correspondence in which I could hope to offer you so little amusement.

  The commission you lately undertook with your usual goodness respecting the manuscripts collected in Turkey by Mr Carlyle and myself, appeared likely to lead to discussions I was far from anticipating: I have therefore written to Miss Carlyle in order to prevent your having any further trouble on the occasion. In attempting to express my thanks for so much goodness, I cannot forbear availing myself of the opportunity it affords, of sending you a sketch of what was done by Lord Elgin’s Artists at Athens and other parts of Greece, after you left us. The enthusiasm you felt on the spot, and which I so often witnessed in our walks on the Areopagus, the Pnyx, and the Acropolis, convinces me that none of the details will appear trifling or minute, that relate to monuments you studied with so much attention; respective merits you appreciated with so correct a taste—and with which Lord Elgin’s name is now so intimately connected. The project that has been suggested to his Lordship of forming his collection of original marbles, as well as the models, drawings, and plans, into a public exhibition at London, has made us endeavour to recollect the principal objects it contains. Our conversation on this subject has not only beguiled many a long hour of captivity and seclusion, but it has also given much more precision and arrangement to the ideas we had formed in the hurried moments of travelling, and during the rapid succession of monuments erected at intervals widely remote from each other, and in styles of very different merit.

  The names of Cimon, Pericles, Phidias, etc., to whom we owe the chefs d’aeuvre of architecture and sculpture at Athens, have so strongly interested Lady Elgin, that not satisfied with the light and amusing descriptions in the Travels of Anacharsis in the Athenian Letters, or in the Thousand and one Voyages en Grece, she has studied the works of Herodotus, Plutarch, and other original Historians, with an eagerness I have seldom witnessed: and I am sure you will read with interest the extracts and observations she has made on every passage that throws light on the scenes she saw with so much delight, and which she now recollects with increased fondness. In addition to the usual resources of a well cultivated mind, how happy a circumstance has it proved to Her, to be able to turn her attention from the solitudes of the Pyrenees to the classic ground she trod in happier moments, and to anticipate the satisfaction She is one day to enjoy in comparing notes with the Parent who formed her taste, directed her studies, and who visited a few months before her, many of the same magic spots, on the shores of the Hellespont, the Agean, and the Mediterranean.

  The first ancient monument procured by Lord Elgin was the famous Boustrophedon inscription from the promontory of Sigaeum in the Troad, which almost every Ambassador from Christendom to the Porte, and even Louis XIV, in the zenith of his power, had ineffectually endeavoured to obtain: It is the most ancient and curious specimen extant of Greek writing—at an epoch when the Alphabet was very imperfect, and when the lines went alternately from right to left and from left to right; like the furrows made by oxen in ploughing, to which the word Boustrophedon alludes. This marble alone, so long a desideratum in Europe, is surely sufficient to place Lord Elgin’s name in a conspicuous rank with the Arundels, the Sandwiches and Wortleys; to whom Greek literature is so much indebted. From the ruins of the Temple of Minerva at Sigaeum, His Lordship also procured a most beautiful Alto-rilievo in Parian marble, containing a procession of Trojan matrons presenting and dedicating an infant to Minerva, with the accustomed offerings. General Koehler had also obtained for Lord Elgin a statue and bas-relief from the ruins of the Temple of Apollo Thymbrius in the Troad; neither of which I have seen, but if the Sculpture be in a style resembling that of the Sigaean procession, they are valuable indeed. At a subsequent visit I paid to the Troad with Mr Carlyle, we procured some interesting inscriptions, and I afterwards had the good fortune to discover and obtain a Statue of Minerva Iliensis near Thymbria, the drapery of which is exquisite.

  The Ferman of the Sultan, which I took with me on my second visit to Athens was expressed in very forcible language, and obviated all the difficulties under which you saw the Artists suffer, and their plans suspended, during your stay there. It even authorized them to make excavations, and to secure for Lord Elgin any fragments of inscriptions or sculpture they might find. With such authority backed by the success of our arms in Egypt, I conceived that an extension might be given to the words of the ferman; which the Vaivoide did not oppose: and the first acquisition we made was the most perfect of the Metopes from the ruins of the Parthenon, on which I recollect Mr Nisbet and yourself rivetting your eyes with so much admiration. This was the first of them that had been so successfully lowered. M. de Choiseul-Gouffier’s attempt to secure one had merely been connived at; and for want of time, and cordage, and windlasses, it fell from a considerable height, and was broken into fragments. I do not recollect to have ever felt my heart throb with greater violence, than when I saw this treasure detached from the entablature of the Parthenon, and depending on the strength of Ragusan cordage; nor did my anxiety cease till I had got it on board an English frigate at Alexandria, to be forwarded to England. The subject of the sculpture appears to be Theseus or his friend Pirithous victorious over a Hippo-Centaur: the attitude of the Hero strongly reminded me of the Belvidere Apollo, by the boldness and dignity with which it seems to be advancing: the figures are about four feet hig
h.

  Our success in obtaining this precious specimen of sculpture, executed under the eye, and perhaps by the chisel of Phidias himself, impressed Lord Elgin with a will of forming as complete a collection of similar objects, as his influence at the Porte seemed to render practicable: and in compliance with that view, I succeeded in obtaining some other Bas-reliefs and ancient Inscriptions. But his Lordship has since prosecuted the plan with so much enthusiasm, and on so vast a scale, that he now possesses more original Athenian sculpture in statues, alti and basi rilieve, capitals, cornices, friezes, and columns, than any cabinet in Europe contains. These, with the moulds fill about two hundred and fifty cases, many of which are extremely large.

  The first Metope we obtained from the Temple of Minerva on the Citadel of Athens, has been followed by the acquisition of eight or ten others, representing a continuation of the Battle between the Centaurs and Lapitho at the nuptials of Pirithous. Each Metope contains two figures grouped in various attitudes; sometimes the Lapitho victorious, sometimes the Centaur. The relaxed muscles of one of the Lapitho who is lying dead and trampled on by a Centaur is amongst the finest productions of art; as well as the groupe adjoining it of Hippodamia, the bride carried off by the Centaur Eurythion, and struggling to throw herself from the Monster’s back: while he is grasping her with brutal violence, with one hand twisted into her dishevelled tresses: the furious style of his galloping, in order to secure his prize, and his shrinking from the spear that has been hurled after him are expressed with prodigious animation. How great a misfortune it is that many of these should be so much mutilated; but even in that condition they are much superior to anything that modern restoration could effect, were the attempt made even by the hand of Canova. They are all in such high relief as to be absolutely groupes of statues, and they are in general finished with as much attention behind, as before, in order that they might strike the eye of the spectator with effect, in whatever direction he approached the Acropolis, from the plain of Athens. They originally ran all round the entablature of the Parthenon and formed ninety-two groupes. The zeal of the early Christians, the barbarism of the Turks, explosions when the Temple was used as a Gunpowder magazine, have demolished a very large portion of them, so that except those snatched from impending ruin by Lord Elgin, and secured to the arts, it is in general difficult to trace even the outline of the original subject.