For many historians, Greece is considered to be the beginning of Western civilization and a shining example of human ingenuity—which is a tad irksome, seeing as how Western Europe and America were in fact populated with millions of people but don’t receive nearly the same amount of study because even now they aren’t seen as “sophisticated” societies, but I am preaching to the choir.

These historians love to focus on the so-called Golden Age of Greek civilization, which took place over 2,500 years ago, and during that time, a prolific creation of architecture, monuments, and sculptures occurred, most of which is now gone. Thus, the remaining structures from this period are deeply cherished and admired across the world. Today, the most famous Greek marvel is the Acropolis of Athens.

As a holy site, the Acropolis is the home to several religious monuments and buildings, the most iconic of which is the Parthenon. However, the Acropolis in Athens was not the only one of its kind; in fact, the buildings, which were fortified structures set atop the highest hill around to be closer to the gods, were often used as religious locations for Greek cities. This ancient building towers from the top of the hill, dominating the Athens skyline, and is truly a sight to behold. This past summer, I had the opportunity to visit the city and its beautiful relics myself. It was an incredible experience that I hope to repeat one day.

Acropolis of Athens

Though I had studied Greek culture, specifically Athens, quite extensively before, I still had no idea that there was more than just the Parthenon atop of that hill. So, at first glance, I was quite confused by all the other buildings surrounding the great temple. My confusion quickly turned into sheer, nerdy delight as I rushed around the hilltop, reading all the informational plaques to learn as much as I could about these monuments.

One of these structures that remains—and, spoiler alert, is the topic of our lovely story today—is the Porch of the Erechtheion. If you look closely, you can see the roof of the structure is supported not by the traditional columns that are often seen on Greek buildings, but instead by six maiden statues. When a maiden statue such as these take the place of Ionian columns—which are basically the giant fancy posts on all Greek buildings—it is referred to as a “Caryatid,” which was often used for the porches of treasury buildings.

Porch of the Erechtheion

There is some debate about how this architectural strategy came to be used in Greece. One theory is taken from this ancient dude named Vitruvius (deserves “cool name status,” amiright?), who once said the female statues were modeled from the women of the Greek city, Carya, which sided with the Persians in their war against the Greeks. When the Greeks won, they destroyed the city, killed all the men, and took the women into slavery.

After that, the legend goes that to immortalize the city’s crimes, Caryatids began to be implemented where the women were forever symbolically forced to carry the burden of the heavy stone on top of their heads. What can I say; the Greeks were a petty bunch. It is also a possibility they are just an evolution of Persian columns which depicted animal figures, but I lie in favor of the former since the ancient Greeks are known to be sore winners.

Regardless of how they came to be, the Caryatids of Erechtheion are especially well known due to their location. The Erechtheion was one of the holiest sites of the Acropolis. Built between 406 and 421 BCE during a huge construction project to rejuvenate the growing city, this monument housed the ancient wooden statue of Athens’ patron goddess, Athena. It also served as a center for the cults of Erechtheus (my computer wants me to change this dude’s name to Erectness, which is hilarious if you have the humor of a middle schooler like me), who was a minor deity of Athens, along with Hephaestus and Poseidon.

As for the Caryatids, they hold up the south porch, which was believed to be the tomb of the mythical king who was the founder of Athens and held a contest between Athena and Poseidon to decide the patron god of the city.

There is a theory that perhaps the caryatids arms once held pots which poured libations into the ground as an offering to the dead. The statues were once incredibly detailed, with form-fitting, cinched togas (showing off the age-old, sexy, “wet” look) and bold stances of their waist and hips. Though they all wear the same clothes, each has its own individual details that are most easily seen today in their intricately plated hair. To avoid any more damage from pollution and weathering, the statues were moved into the Acropolis Museum in 1978 and replaced with replicas.

While the history and origin behind the caryatids are of course interesting, here is the real tea about why we are talking about them today: only five of the six statues reside in the Acropolis Museum. The sixth statue is located inside of the British Museum in London, England. Now, you may be thinking, oh, is it on loan from Athens? No, of course not, because that would be far too considerate and reasonable.

No, the reality is far more controversial—the statue was “appropriated” or “recovered” by Lord Elgin in 1801. Personally, it seems a bit more akin to stealing, but regardless, the sixth maiden of Erechtheion has been a point of contention between Britain and Greece for over one hundred years now, and the controversy continues today.

Let’s lay out the scene: by the 1700s, the city-states of Greece weren’t doing too well. They had been ruled by the Ottoman Empire since the 1500s. The sultan, Mehmed II, had turned the Parthenon into a mosque and the rest of the Acropolis into a garrison. Later, in 1687, the Parthenon was being used to store gunpowder during a war fought between the Ottomans and the Venetians.

As I said earlier, the place is pretty noticeable, making it a vulnerable target. The Venetians took advantage of this and struck it with a mortar shell, causing the whole roof to collapse. Then, the Venetian leader tried to commandeer some of the remaining statues, only for the gurney holding them to break, shattering all the ancient relics.

By the middle of the 18th century, the Acropolis had fallen into more ruin and was often plundered by travelers who believed it would be razed soon anyway.

During this period, it was common for rich, young men to complete a tour of Europe as a rite of passage, ending in the once great capital of the ancient world. Many of these western travelers hurried to take what they willed from the site in order to “save” the relics from destruction.

Some collectors claimed this was perfectly legal as they had been given permission from the Ottoman authorities, and this is how many artifacts found their way into prominent museums. Thomas Bruce, also known as Lord Elgin, was one of these travelers who claimed to be given legal permission, but the validity of this claim has been debated ever since.

As an earl with a prominent political career serving as a diplomat to various countries during the French Revolutionary War, Elgin, who held a fascination with ancient Greek architecture, used his success to build a grand mansion in his native Scotland upon returning home. Luckily for him, his next diplomatic trip sent him to the Ottoman Empire in 1799 for the sultan, Selim III, who wanted aid against Napoleon’s encroaching army.

When he arrived, Elgin was quick to send his people to Athens to record images of the ancient city to be used in his mansion. They were given free reign everywhere except for the one place Elgin was most interested in: the Acropolis. The Ottoman authorities demanded large daily payments, and in desperation, Elgin’s people urged him to request special permission from the sultan.

By July of 1801, this authorization was granted, and it went something like this: “When they wish to take away some pieces of stone with old inscriptions and figures, no opposition to be made.”

Apparently, Lord Elgin took this as liberty to take whatever suited his fancy, and in the end, his workmen toted away 15 metopes (or carvings) from the Parthenon, 247 feet (just under half) of the total frieze, four fragments from the frieze to the temple of the Athena Nike, and one of the caryatids of the Erechtheion. Not exactly “some pieces of stone.”

The funny thing is that even though Elgin claimed he wanted to take them to properly preserve them, one of the ships that was transporting the relics crashed on its way back to London, and its cargo ended up on the bottom of the sea floor for two years before it could be retrieved. Once they were officially back in London, Elgin offered them up to the British government to be displayed. Even back then, there was contention about the artifacts coming into British control, with several elite nobles, such as the famous Lord Byron, denouncing Elgin for taking them in the first place.

Regardless, the marbles were moved to the “Elgin Room” in the British Museum in 1832. Coincidently, this was also the year that Greece regained independence and became a unified country for the first time in its history. And one of the first acts of the new government was to petition for the return of the Parthenon marbles, which is continuing to this day.

Along with that, a new Acropolis Museum was opened in 2009, which I also had the chance to visit. It’s beautiful and fascinating, and it very pointedly leaves room for the missing artifacts all throughout the museum, most obviously in the caryatid display, where a significant gap is left where the sixth caryatid would be placed in hope of the eventual return of the final maiden.

The British Museum has so far refused all requests to give up one of its most popular exhibits. They argue, much like other museums who cling tightly to their stolen Greek artifacts, that they have a right to these items as they are more symbolic of European civilization as a whole and not just Greek heritage. It is also argued that since the sixth maiden is in better condition than the other five, it justifies Elgin’s actions.

It’s a load of elitist malarkey if you ask me. Sorry, not sorry.

Recent publicity on the subject agrees. In 2014, lawyer Amal Clooney brought attention to the controversy as one of the lawyers with the legal team who advised the Greek government on possible action in international courts to force the return of the marbles. She claimed that Greece had “just cause” for the return of the marbles and that the British government should be embarrassed for retaining them.

It doesn’t end there, either. Several protests, both in Greece and London, have been set up demanding the return of the last maiden statue. One of these demonstrations took place in 2014 when five women dressed as the caryatid statues and wandered through the halls of the British Museum, looking for their “lost sister.”

Learning about all of this colored a lot of what I saw on my trip throughout Europe and how I now look at historical artifacts in museums. An unfortunate fact of modern history is that it is horrifically white-washed, with the story of the Lord Elgin marbles being only one wild example of European civilizations mistreating cultural relics. Though it is incredibly interesting to see these artifacts in person, it is also important to be knowledgeable about the full history of these relics and how they came to be where they are. The next time you visit a museum that boasts of relics not native to that country, my advice is to ask yourself how they got there.