Seventh wonder of the world: Charles Newton in Bodrum

By 1856, however, when an archaeological expedition funded by the antiquities-hungry British Museum arrived in the then sleepy Ottoman port of Bodrum (ancient Halicarnassus), the famous tomb had vanished from view. Described in some detail by ancient authors such as Pliny and Vitruvius, the monumental tomb had been pillaged for building materials in the Middle Ages by the Knights of St. John, to use in the town’s landmark Castle of St. Peter. Amongst these recycled materials were 13 relief-carved slabs, part of a much larger frieze, removed from the castle walls in 1846 by British Ambassador to İstanbul Stratford Canning and sent to the British Museum in London. There was no doubt, then, that one of the “Seven Wonders of the World” lay somewhere beneath the quaint houses and gardens of picturesque Bodrum. Finding out just where was the task of 40-year-old expedition leader Charles Newton.

Keeper of antiquities at the British Museum since 1840, Newton made an unusual career choice in 1852, when he was appointed vice-consul of Mytilene, on the Greek island of Lesbos. Although now theoretically a diplomat, there is no doubt that the scholarly but determined Newton sought to use his new position to further his career in the newly emerging scientific discipline of archaeology. And where better to base oneself than a Greek island just off the coast of Asia Minor, a region simply littered with the ruins of ancient Greek and Roman sites? Of course to 19th century archaeologists from Europe (and to a lesser extent the United States), archaeology was not only concerned with discovering and excavating ancient sites, it was about carrying off the best of the finds to museums in their own country. Indeed Newton later admitted in his 1863 account “Travels and Discoveries in the Levant”: “In receiving this appointment from the Foreign Office, I was, at the same time, instructed to use such opportunities as presented themselves for the acquisition of antiquities for the British Museum, and with this object I was authorized to extend my researches beyond the limits of my Vice-Consulship; a small annual allowance being granted me for travelling expenses.”

Newton’s expedition vessel, Royal Navy gunboat HMS Gorgon, made a vivid impression when it sailed into Bodrum’s glorious bay on Nov. 17, 1856. The 150 men aboard the HMS Gorgon were at Newton’s disposal, as were a team of sappers under Robert Murdoch Smith, an officer of the Royal Engineers. Tasked with recording the excavation and any finds made were three artists and more excitingly, given that photography was still in its infancy, a camera and a sapper trained to use it. With a (for the period) generous budget of 2,000 pounds for hiring local workers and purchasing equipment, this was a most grandiose project. The sight of so many strangely dressed foreigners wandering through the backstreets of Bodrum caused quite a stir amongst the mixed Turkish/Greek population. Most must have thought them mad to be searching for the remnants of a “worthless” ancient building. Others just hoped that someone from their family would be able to earn a little extra cash to help them through the winter by finding gainful employment on the up-and-coming dig.

Of course Newton was not the first person to seek the fabled Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, and the sites where his predecessors had searched were named after them -- for example “Ross’s platform” was the location amateur German archaeologist Ludwig Ross believed the tomb to be located. British architect Thomas Donaldson, however, who had visited Bodrum in the 1820s, proved to be the closest to the actual site of King Mausolus’ last resting place. Remarkably, this turned out to be virtually in the grounds of the konak (mansion house) where Newton was staying. The clues to the location were in the “walls of the Turkish houses and gardens” which he found to full of “pieces of the same mouldings, intermixed with which were fragments of colossal lions similar to those in the castle.” In fact, later evidence suggests that it was not Newton who found the site of the tomb, but the engineer Smith. For Newton, expedition leader, diplomat and scholarly keeper of antiquities at the British Museum, it would have been humbling to admit that a subordinate, a mere “engineer,” had beaten him to the location of the mausoleum. So in his journal he fudged the truth about the discovery of the tomb in order to secure the acclaim he felt he deserved.

More important than the finder, however, was that the site of the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus had finally been located. The dig was not without problems, however, with some local homeowners refusing to sell their property and others holding out for exorbitant prices. Eventually the determined (not to say obsessed) Newton had his way, and an enormous hole appeared where once there were gardens and houses, revealing the remains of the mighty mausoleum. Excavations, with dozens of local workers manfully wielding picks and shovels under the experienced eyes of the Royal Navy sappers, began in January 1857 and continued until June of the same year. Despite the vicissitudes of time and the plundering of the Knights of St. John, there was still much to be found. Amongst these was a giant statue of a horse and its rider. This was almost certainly one of the figures from the four-horsed chariot that, according to Pliny, once adorned the pyramidal roof of the mock-Ionic temple style mausoleum. So excited was Newton that he described the statue as “one of the most imposing pile of Greek sculpture in the world.” He also found a relief-carved slab of an Amazon on horseback. This appeared to be part of the same frieze that Stratford Canning had removed from the Castle of St. Peter 11 years earlier and was now in the British Museum. Also amongst Newton’s finds were statues of Mausolus and his queen, Artemisia.

Hauling 200 cases

The finds from the excavation eventually totaled more than 200 cases, which were hauled down to the pretty harbor front and loaded aboard the HMS Gorgon. The remnants of the mausoleum were eventually (though not as quickly as Newton had hoped) carefully pieced back together and put on display in the British Museum, where they can still be found today, in the aptly named Mausoleum room. We’ll never know what Mausolus himself, a local dynast ruling a kingdom in what is now southwestern Turkey in the fourth century B.C., would think of sections of his tomb being displayed in grey, distant London. It’s likely though, that Artemisia would have been delighted. According to the prevailing custom of the time, she was also his sister and would share, with her brother-husband, this grandest of tombs. Following Mausolus’ death in 353 B.C., she had the grandiose tomb built to ensure he would never be forgotten. With more than 5 million people visiting the British Museum annually, it seems her wish has been granted.

Newton was not yet finished with Bodrum and its environs. Mausolus’ tomb had been “guarded” by many lion statues and some of these were embedded in the walls of the Castle of St. Peter. Newton was determined to remove the lions, but because the firman (official permission) issued by the sultan was ambiguous, the Ottoman commander of the castle refused to hand them over. Indeed, presumably working on the premise that previously little-regarded items take on a new value once someone else expresses an interest in them, the Ottoman minister for war ordered the lions to be sent to İstanbul. An enraged Newton applied for a separate firman just for the lions. It was granted at the last minute and the commander was forced to hand the ancient sculptures over to a much-relieved Newton. The statues were shipped back to London, where they now flank the main stairs of the British Museum. A solitary lion statue, however, did make its way to İstanbul and can be seen in the city’s imposing Archaeology Museum.

Next up for the indefatigable Newton was the monumental oracular shrine of Apollo at Didyma, close to the modern resort of Altınkum and linked to the ancient city of Miletus by an 18-kilometer “sacred way.” Lining this processional path were (amongst many other relics) statues of Branchidae, the priests and priestesses who presided at the shrine. The beautiful marble relief carvings Newton salvaged from Bodrum were attributable to “named” Greek sculptors such as Scopas, and according to him were the equal of the great “classical” friezes that had decorated the pediment of the Parthenon in Athens. The statues of the Branchidae, some dating back to the sixth century B.C., interested him for a different reason -- because their style reflected that of ancient Egypt. Newton originally intended simply to photograph the newly unearthed statues but, concerned that they may get damaged, he sought (and, in 1858, obtained,) a firman to remove them to, you guessed it, the British Museum.

But Newton’s boldest move was the removal of the colossal statue of a reclining lion, which lay half buried in the earth at the edge of cliff in the dramatically situated ruins of the ancient Greek city of Knidos, near Marmaris. Lowering the six ton sculpture, carved from a single-piece of marble, down a 60-meter plus cliff face, then manhandling it into the waiting boat, was no easy task. But thanks to the assistance of the ill-served (by Newton) engineer Smith, the lion was shipped back to Britain. Dated to between 350 and 200 B.C., the massive lion once guarded the tomb of a Greek notable; it now benignly presides over visitors thronging the Great Court of the British Museum.

Like the more famous Parthenon friezes (aka the Elgin Marbles) and many other antiquities taken from formerly Ottoman lands in the 19th century, the lion is the subject of some controversy. In 2008, the mayor of the nearby Turkish town of Datça asked the British Museum for the restitution of “its” lion. In 2006 several nongovernmental bodies based in Bodrum had similarly requested the return of the sculptures Newton removed from the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus. Very much a product of the British imperial age he was born into, Oxford-educated Newton spent some two-and-half years of his life removing antiquities from Bodrum, Didyma and Knidos. He must be turning in his own tomb at the prospect, however remote, of his hard-won “treasures” making the long journey back from London to Turkey’s Aegean coast.

Further reading: “From the Harpy Tomb to the Wonders of Ephesus” by Debbie Challis.