Emma Payne’s analysis of the plaster casts of sculptures from the Parthenon, commissioned by Lord Elgin at the beginning of the 19th century, demonstrates why they remain important today as an accurate record of the originals when first moulded.

But does her article, 3D Imaging of the Parthenon Sculptures, published in December’s Antiquity journal and reported widely in the national press this week, lessen the controversy about Elgin’s role in the long-running Parthenon Marbles debate? 

Does it flatter him by demonstrating a greater reverence for the ancient past than many give him credit?

To answer this, lets first draw a distinction between the work he commissioned on the Acropolis that did fall within some kind of ‘authorised’ remit (in other words, making drawings and plaster copies) and other more controversial work he undertook (including the removal of sculptures, friezes and metopes from the Temple), which almost certainly pushed the boundaries of an 'authorised' remit.

Let's give Lord Elgin the credit where credit is due.  Payne’s work has proven the value of Elgin's plaster casts as an enduring archaeological and art historical resource. 

Elgin always intended to commission the modelling of the various sculptures lying within the walls of the Citadel. As one of the pioneers in this practice, his original plan followed the practice of other early excavators who used the modelling of casts as a means of recording the original state of the sculptures as discovered. 

Elgin employed two casters to undertake the casting work (called foratori ), Bernardino Ledus and Vincenzo Rosati. And it seems they did a very good job. By analysing the 3D models of the British Museum’s Parthenon casts, Payne’s work confirms just how accurate these copies of the original in situ friezes were at the time of moulding in 1802. Her evidence of subsequent deterioration between the casts and the originals is mostly explained by other climatic and human interventions that took place in the years following the moulding. 

But does the success of Elgin’s modelling exonerate him from his other more controversial actions? 

None of us can be certain exactly what kind of licence (firman) was issued to Elgin. We cannot, for example, be certain who issued it, or on what terms and scope it comprised. All we can be certain of is the British Museum and the Government's select committee convened to consider the purchase of the Marbles on behalf of the Nation, put their faith in its existence – but without ever having sight of the original letter or licence that Elgin claimed authorised his work. 

Its existence is now hotly disputed, most recently by Geoffrey Robertson in his latest book, Who Owns History? Robertson suggests Elgin’s authority was based purely on a letter signed by a middle-ranking official.

Based on the verbal evidence presented to the British Museum and Parliament at the time, Elgin’s authority to create plaster casts is generally accepted as legitimate. Payne’s work suggests we can be grateful for this part of Elgin’s contribution to research, as we can learn much from the original state of the sculptures from the casts before human damage and climate caused later deterioration.

But it doesn’t take us any further towards resolving whether Elgin had legitimate authority to remove so many sculptures from the site. 

Making casts of the sculptures on the Temple was always part of Lord Elgin’s plan – and he did it well. But his reputation will always be determined by his act of removing sculptures from the temple site. 

Without the original documentation, we can never be absolutely certain whether  he acted within his authority or not.   

Photo: Frieze from the Parthenon of two horsemen, Acropolis Museum, Athens

Courtesy of Anna Oikonomou