[Illustration: FRONT VIEW OF THE PARTHENON.]
One of these fragments is a portion of the frieze that once surrounded the entire edifice like a long garland of rare beauty. How careful were the old Greek artists of their reputation; how conscientious in their art! The figures in this frieze were fifty feet above the ground, where small defects would never have been noticed, yet every part of each was finished with the utmost care. While they remained there for two thousand years, this trait of old Greek character was unperceived; but, with their downfall and removal, the sculptor's grand fidelity to truth was brought to light,—as death sometimes reveals the noble qualities which we in life, alas! have not observed.
Enough of the Parthenon remains to show the literal perfection of its masonry. It has, for example, in its steps, walls, and columns, curves so minute as to be hardly visible, yet true to the one-hundredth part of an inch. They show alike the splendid genius of the architect and the wonderful skill of the workmen. For all the curves are mathematical. The reasons for them can be demonstrated like a problem in geometry. Once fifty life-size statues stood upon its pediments. Around it ran a sculptured frieze, five hundred and twenty feet in length, carved mainly by the hand of Phidias; while the especial treasure of the temple was the famous statue of Athene Parthenos, made of ivory and gold. The value of the precious metal used in this one figure was seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
It is a marvel that any fragments can be gathered on the top of the Acropolis, after the persistent spoliation which Greece has undergone for more than eighteen centuries. From the one city of Delphi alone Nero is said to have carried off to Rome five hundred bronze statues. How many beautiful works in marble, gold and ivory he removed, we cannot tell. And when the Roman conqueror, Æmilius Paulus, was borne in triumph up the Appian Way, exhibiting the spoils of conquered Greece, there preceded him two hundred and fifty wagons filled with the rarest pictures and statues of Greek artists, after which came three thousand men, each bearing some gold or silver ornament taken from Hellenic cities. Yet this was merely the beginning of the plundering, which practically ended only fifty years ago, when Lord Elgin carried off to London over two hundred and fifty feet of the beautifully sculptured frieze of the Parthenon. Opinions differ in regard to the propriety of this act on the part of Lord Elgin. Defenders of his conduct urge that, had this not been done, these works of art would have been ruined by the Turks. Others maintain that they would have remained intact, and point to some of the comparatively uninjured decorations of the shrines of the Acropolis, such as the Caryatides of the Erectheum, which have at least never been injured by the Turks, though one of them was removed to England by Lord Elgin. At all events, it would be a noble and graceful act on the part of England particularly, and of many other countries also, to restore some of her lost art-treasures to Greece,—now that she has risen again to the rank of a well-governed and progressive nation. It is sad indeed to see in Athens only plaster casts of the incomparable works of her old sculptors, the originals of which enrich so many European capitals.