One of the caryatides found in an excavation at the Erechtheum in 1846 was ‘restored to its former place, and a new figure cast in cement was sent out from England in place of the sixth, which was, and is, in the British Museum’.
There was no making amends, for Baedeker in his second English edition says rather tartly: ‘In 1787, the French agent Fauvel managed to secure a few fragments of the Parthenon sculptures for the French ambassador. But to the British ambassador Lord Elgin belongs the discredit of instituting a systematic removal of the art-treasures of the Acropolis. In 1801 he procured a firman authorising him to remove “a few blocks of stone with inscriptions and figures”, and with the aid of several hundred labourers, he removed the greater part of the metopes, the pediments, and the frieze. The priceless sculptures, and their conveyance to England cost about £36,000. In 1816, after various abortive negotiations, during which the value of the sculptures had been set in a proper light, they were purchased by the British Government; and they now, under the name of the “Elgin Marbles”, form the most valuable possession of the British Museum.’
So much for that, but the Germans were no babes at the game, either. Schliemann looted Troy, where excavations were carried on, says Murray, showing commendable understatement, ‘with such success’. Most of the treasures went to Athens, where Schliemann had married a Greek lady, some of the treasures going around her neck.
The Prussians were busy excavating at Pergamon, also in modern Turkey, from 1879 and, according to Hachette’s Eastern Mediterranean, ‘The principal sculptures were removed to Berlin.’ I saw them there in 1970, and very impressive they were, for whole buildings had been taken from their rightful home.
Baedeker tells us in 1894 that a journey to Greece ‘no longer ranks with those exceptional favours of fortune which fall to the lot of but few individuals. Athens, thanks to modern railways and steamers, has been brought within four days of London.’
Even so, conditions had changed little since Murray’s handbooks was written forty years previously, because at places in the interior: ‘The inns are usually miserable cottages, with a kitchen and one large common sleeping-room; nowadays some of them also possess a few separate rooms, which are, however, destitute of furniture, glass windows, and fire-places. The traveller must bring his own coverings with him, as the rags presented to him for bedclothes are almost always full of vermin.’ The point is made that the civilized traveller will find so much dirt and vermin ‘that their deep enthusiasm for treading classic soil and their deep admiration for Greek scenery become seriously impaired’.
Hospitality from the locals had its drawbacks in that ‘consideration for the feelings of his host limits the traveller in various ways, and this is increased by the fact that the modern Greek has generally very little idea of the value of time. The only return the stranger can make for his reception is a gratuity to the servants. In small houses, however, where the traveller has been received without the formality of introduction, the sum of 4–5 dr. is expected for the night’s lodging, while, on the other hand, the visitor may take his ease almost as freely as at an inn.’
Should the traveller prefer to avoid such complications and cruise among the islands: ‘The small coasting steamers are usually very poorly appointed, and the cabins often swarm with vermin. The want of order on almost all the Greek steamers is particularly disagreeable. In spite of the nominal prohibition, the steerage passengers, who are often more picturesque at a distance than agreeable at close quarters, occasionally invade the after-deck, and the notice forbidding smoking in the saloon is sometimes more honoured in the breach than in the observance.’
Baedeker goes on to say that those who do not know modern Greek ‘should not attempt to travel in the interior without a guide’, then gives a facsimile of the necessary contract for engaging one: ‘In concluding the agreement, which is best done in a café over a cup of coffee, the traveller should preserve an air of indifference and should avoid all indications of hurry.’
Taking walks of more than a day or two is practically impossible ‘owing to the climate, the difficulty of obtaining food and shelter, and the badness of the roads. Travellers should never quit the main roads without a guide, partly on account of the savage dogs.’ As a protection against this menace the traveller to remote parts is recommended to carry a stout cane or long riding whip, which will sometimes be found useful in repelling them, ‘though stone-throwing is perhaps still more effective’.
Public safety is said to be ‘all that can be desired. Since the bold acts of brigandage in 1870 (an Italian and three English gentlemen were shot by the bandits) the Greek government has exerted itself strenuously to extirpate this national evil; and only a few isolated cases have occurred near the Turkish frontier.’
Baedeker’s Lower Egypt, 1885, informs us that since the publications of the French scholars attached to Napoleon’s Expedition, Egypt has ‘attracted the ever-increasing attention of the scientific; its historical and archeological marvels have been gradually unveiled to the world; it is the most ancient, and was yet at one time the most civilised country of antiquity; and it therefore cannot fail to awaken the profoundest interest in all students of the history and development of human culture.’
Murray’s handbook of 1858 was written by Sir I. Gardner Wilkinson, who puts the cost of travelling via Marseilles and then to Alexandria by steamer at twenty-seven pounds. Rather than take the French boat, the English vessel is considered ‘far preferable on the score of living, civility, cleanliness, a greater certainty of arriving at the promised time, and the smaller number of extra charges. Complaints are also made of the great confusion on arriving at Alexandria from the admission of so many natives, touters from the hotels and others, on board the French boats.’
Items useful for a journey to Egypt are said to include: ‘Iron bedstead to fold up; pipes, Wire for cleaning pipes, put into a reed; Mouth-pieces and pipe-bowls; Washing-tub; Flags, for boat on Nile; Small pulley and rope for flag; Fireplaces. In the boat going up the Nile have a set put together in a large fireplace with a wooden back; Gun, pistols; Powder and shot; For observations, a sextant and artificial horizon; An iron rat-trap for the boat.’
Notes on health tell us that: ‘Bathing in the Nile is by no means prejudicial in the morning and evening; and, except in the neighbourhood of sandbanks, there is no fear of crocodiles. It is unnecessary to say much respecting the plague, which seldom now visits Egypt; and if it should appear, any one may escape it by leaving the country on the first alarm.’
Most guidebooks go into the practicality of Europeans donning oriental dress, Murray telling us that is by no means necessary, and indeed that anyone wearing it ‘who is ignorant of the language, becomes ridiculous … a person is never respected who is badly dressed, of whatever kind the costume may be, and nowhere is exterior appearance so much thought of as in the East.’
When the ship reaches the vicinity of Alexandria it is not easy to get into port, Murray says, due ‘to the complicated channels which are beset with shoals and reefs. But on making the coast late in the evening, the steamer lays to till daylight, and early in the morning the pilot comes off; for no captain thinks of entering the harbour without him; the buoys laid down by the English in 1801, to mark the passage, having been removed as soon as they left the country.’
The stranger is told that if he escapes the rapacity of the boatmen who, like everyone at Alexandria, are never satisfied, however well paid, ‘he is immediately pressed on all sides by the most importunate of human beings, in the shape of donkey-drivers. Their active little animals may be called the cabs of Egypt; and each driver, with vehement vociferations and gesticulations, recommending his own, in broken English or bad Italian, strives to take possession of the unfortunate traveller, and almost forces him to mount.’