From all this it may be gathered that age and motherhood had not greatly changed my daughter, a verdict I reached very quickly and which the passage of time did not alter. My son-in-law – my favourite son-in-law, as I had been used to call him – had certainly changed outwardly, being now twice the size he had been in England, and with grey hairs showing among his golden locks. Whether the inward change I had discerned in him at Hartlepool had been maintained was a subject on which I was eager to be enlightened, and I observed him closely when he returned that evening from his work, bringing with him his eldest son, whom we had last seen as a babe in arms.
Young Fizzy bounded into the room and flung himself into Lydia’s arms.
“Mama! Mama!” he screeched, “I did all Papa’s work for him, and Tomlinson gave me a penny for being such a good boy, and I’m to go there every day now as they can’t do without me.”
“Of course they can’t,” replied his doting mother. “But I cannot do without you, either. Which of us shall you oblige, I wonder. But I am glad to see that you were such a help to Papa.”
“Oh, he’s a rare hand at folding papers,” said Wickham – a somewhat rounder, stouter Wickham than I remembered, with a fair sprinkling of grey hairs – “ and you should see him banging on the seals. But what’s this, young man, don’t you see we have guests? What do you say then, to your Grandmama and Grandpapa, and your Aunt Kitty and their friends?”
Fizzy reverted to Fitzwilliam at this, and stood dumbfounded, staring at the strangers. I believe it was only his mother’s hand upon his arm that prevented him from sucking his thumb.
“Come, now, sir,” his father exhorted, “you are out in the world now, and must observe its proprieties. Surely a gentleman of means such as yourself, occupying an Office of Profit under the Crown, cannot be at a loss as to how to greet his grandparents.”
The only visible effect of this speech was the replacement of white-faced silence by red-faced.
“Make your bow to Mr Bennet, and say “Good Day, Grandpapa. I am very pleased to see you.”
Piped greetings from the Young Master, with,
“And I am very pleased to see you, too, my boy,” in what I hoped were my kindliest tones.
“Now grandmamma and Aunt Kitty. Good chap. That will do for now. Introductions will keep for later. Now run along and see what Arianna has waiting for you.”
“But seriously, sir,” Wickham continued, after seeing his son safely into the arms of his nursemaid – for so I assumed her to be: a young Greek lady could not possibly be governess to an English family, could she? -, “I am very happy to see you here at last, and you too, Mrs Bennet and my sister Kitty, and I am sure Lady Wickham has already told you as much. But perhaps you will be so good as to make me known to the other members of your party.”
Introductions were made, with the same insistence on precedence which I had observed in Lydia and had remarked in Wickham himself when he referred to my own daughter to me as ‘Lady Wickham’. I suppose the military must tend to set great store by rank, especially in a colonial setting. I unexpectedly found myself puzzled by how to address my newly-exalted son-in-law. I could hardly call him ‘Wickham’, or ‘George’ now, but I found that ‘Sir George’ stuck in my throat. I decided I must compromise by calling him ‘General’.
I made sure to explain the Morlands’ connections again, but found I was forestalled.
“Ah, that reminds me,” said Wickham, “We have a letter waiting for you, Mrs Morland, from your distinguished relatives, I believe, if the coronet on the cover is anything to go by. With your leave, I will send for it.”
Then he touched a bell, and gave instructions to the servant who appeared in what sounded like a halting version of the patois we had heard on the quayside.
I made haste to ask him about it.
“Excuse my enquiry, General, but what was that language you were speaking?”
“That was Greek, sir. I rather pride myself on being able to make my wishes known to the natives.”
“Forgive me, sir, but if that was Greek, then the language has changed considerably since I took my M.A.”
“I was no Grecian at school, sir, so I fear I am not competent to comment, but that is certainly the language spoken by both the common people and the gentry about here, who call themselves Greeks, or rather, Romans, I should say. It is we who call them Greeks, and there is no telling how they might take the appellation.”
“I am as good a hand as any at the tongue of Thucydides and Plato, sir, and no stranger to the other dialects of the Greek language, and Mr Golightly may say the same for the idiom of the New Testament, but neither of us could make ourselves understood by the bystanders at the harbour, nor ourselves comprehend a word they were saying.”
“You amaze me, sir. I had not thought there could be any difficulty. But I dare say it does not signify. Your dealings in the islands will be mostly with the better class of person, and they all speak Italian among themselves.”
Any further exploration of this mystery was prevented by Lydia’s exclamation that we must all go shopping for clothes on the morrow, as those we had brought were far too thick and hot for the climate. I fear she must have sorely missed Kitty as an accomplice in such activities, for she immediately began a tale of such complexity about the seamstresses and milliners of the protectorate, and how they had been thoroughly spoilt by the French but at least could now be relied upon to run up something in which a lady need not fear to be seen, that only the news that dinner was on the table rescued us from it.
The following morning at breakfast Mrs Morland handed me a substantial packet.
“This was enclosed for you in my letter from home,” she said.
“Of course!” cried Kitty, “your letter. Do read it out, dear Mrs Morland, do. We always read out letters over breakfast, do we not, Papa?”
“We do, my dear, but only in a familial setting.”
“But by now I think of dear Mrs Morland, and the dear doctor, quite as members of the family, and it is so long since we had news from home.”
“I should be perfectly happy to oblige, my dear Kitty, if I may call you Kitty, and you call me Margaret, but I do not have the missive upon me at the moment, having left it in my room. I fear you would find little of interest in it, however.”
“Then you must read us yours, Papa.”
“Willingly, my dear, though I fear you will find even less of interest in it.”
“My dear Mr Bennet,
I hope your travels prosper and that your health continues well. I came upon several members of the Philike Hetairia the other day in the course of my duties at the Foreign Office and immediately thought of you. The enclosed may be of some service to you should you venture into the mainland, and especially the Morea. I should be wary of doing so, however, as the bad blood between the Greeks and the Turks is increasing almost daily, and those who profess to know such things predict dire news before long.
I have written separately to my sister Margaret, but please give my compliments to your lady wife and to Mr and Mrs Golightly.
I have changed my name since we last met, but it does not signify.
Yours etc.
Penworth.”
“Whatever can he mean by changing his name?” enquired Lydia. “I see that he has done so, however, for did you not say your relative was Viscount Hapworth, Mrs Morland.”
“I did, and so he was, but it appears that his services have been recognized at last, and he is now Earl Penworth. As he says in his letter to me, ‘It was high time two ha’porths made a pen’orth, but I dare say the honour will have its strings attached.’ He is something of a humourist, you know.”
“Oh, but it is only more letters of introduction,” Kitty lamented. “It is a business letter! How dreary! Surely yours must have some more interesting news in it, my dear Mrs Morland, my dear Margaret, that is. Can you not go and fetch it for us?”
“I assure you that it contained very little more than Mr Bennet�
�s, and that little of no possible concern except to family members, the goings on of children and so forth. And, speaking of which, here is Arianna now.”
The introduction of Lydia’s numerous brood, still to me as alike as peas in a pod, put an end to anything resembling rational conversation. I am sure children never used to be such hard work.
Chapter Fifteen :Enlightened Colonialism
The inestimable advantages of British rule – or, rather, British advice, had been enjoyed by the Ionian Islands now for over five years. In this they must be distinguished from the barely disguised French Rule of the Heptanesian Republic and the years of absorption as an actual department of the French State.
Those benefits had at first been duly appreciated by the people of the seven islands, who had welcomed the British as the liberators that they were, but with time had come both disappointment and disenchantment, especially among the old Venetian nobility, those whose names were inscribed in the Libro d’Oro. Some had expected rather too much from a nation whose idea of freedom is to be left alone to get on with one’s own business, and to leave others alone to get on with theirs. Others had perhaps fallen victim to the charms of the philhellenes, Lord Byron in particular, and had been expecting a great British Crusade to free Greece from the Turks and crown a new Christian Emperor in Constantinople. The inevitable disillusionment had soured relations, and all things British were no longer quite so much in favour.
Nowhere was this more evident than in the person of the British High Commissioner.
Wickham, whom one might have thought to be his chief’s main support, in fact waxed eloquent upon the subject the following morning when I chaffed him on his sour face when going in to his office.
“It is a service entirely otiose that I perform,” he replied, “as is most of what goes on in Government offices. I move papers around and sign them. The more important ones I stamp with a seal. The grade of importance has already been decreed before they reach me. I do nothing else. King Tom makes all the decisions and any who so much as express misgivings about them end up in a dungeon somewhere. The sole redeeming feature of his reign is that he is in Malta most of the time, and only comes to Corfu now and then to drum up subscriptions for his monument. There are statues of him all over the islands already, but a mere statue will not do for Corfu. Here there must be some great, triumphal arch or rotunda, a fitting tribute to the Napoleon of the Ionian Islands. Meanwhile, the Greeks here are boiling over, there is trouble on the mainland which at any moment may break out into open war between the Greeks and the Turks – a war which could very easily spread to the Islands – and what are we to do? We are to raise subscriptions for the Palace of St Michael and St George. The man is a petty tyrant, and not so very petty at that. But forgive me, I did not mean to burden you with my woes. I speak entirely in confidence, of course, and rely upon your discretion.”
Speaking in confidence about the Lord High Commissioner was very common among his subordinates, I was to discover in the next few days. Those I met were all associates of Wickham, of course, and might be expected to share his views, but there did seem to be much in the way of foundation for their discontent.
The heptanesian islands had been formed by the congress of Vienna into an independent state, under the protection of the king of Great Britain. By that treaty which had formed them into this independent state, it was determined that they should constitute a single free independent state, with the name of the United States of the Ionian Islands. Under the guarantee of his British majesty, they were allowed to retain their form of government until a constitutional charter could be drawn up by themselves, which charter was to make them secure of person and property, under the government of his Britannic majesty.
In that situation were the islands in the year 1816, when Sir Thomas Maitland went there as lord high commissioner. His arrival was hailed by the inhabitants with the utmost joy, as it was expected that he would immediately preside at the formation of a free constitution. Instead, however, of meeting with a protecting hand from Sir Thomas, a very early act of his government was to disperse the senators, who had been sent from the other islands to assemble in Corfu. This, his first act, struck the utmost terror into the minds of the islanders, because it was in direct contravention of the treaty, which stipulated, that the government should remain without change until a constitution was formed. He also dismissed four of the senators, because they pretended to have a will of their own, and were not so subservient as he could have wished to his inclinations. They remonstrated against their dismission, but in vain; he sent them from the island, and left the senate under the control of one Teotochi, a creature of his own, to whom much of the former misfortunes of the island were to be attributed.
Not long afterwards, Sir Thomas left Corfu for England, to prepare and concert with government the constitution for the islands. On his return he was received with addresses and adulatory effusions of all kinds, though he had expressly stated in his correspondence his utter detestation of every thing like external pomp and parade. These addresses were got up by persons always ready to worship the rising sun, to pay a dastardly court to authority; and the flattery was, in truth, of the, most nauseating kind. In a short time other public testimonies were voted; a triumphal arch was subscribed for in Corfu, to perpetuate services of scarcely two months' continuance. A colossal statue of sir Thomas was raised in Cephalonia; a bust of him, by Canova, was placed in a public situation in Zante. In Ithaca a monument was inscribed to him, and in Santa Maura he was honoured with a second triumphal arch. The consequence was, that those who had been active in these testimonials were selected for reward and office, without mentioning the bands of knights of the orders of St. Michael and St George. It was a fact not to be denied, that Sir Thomas Maitland had made use of public employments and honours to obtain individual subserviency to his purpose to a degree incredible by all who had not witnessed it—by which he had deprived the people of the Ionian islands of that degree of liberty given to them by the treaty of Paris.
Wickham had warned me to ‘beware of King Tom’, while coupling the warning that a presentation to him would be necessary, ‘as he likes to keep an eye on visitors of any standing.’
The presentation being duly made at an evening reception attended by all the quality of the island, I was surprised at first by the geniality with which I was received. This did not last long, however.
“I am happy to meet you, Mr Bennet,” the Great Man remarked. “Your son-in-law has been of great use to me. He is an excellent surveyor general, and with his help we shall soon have passable roads all over the island. I am happy to meet you, I say, but I must express the hope that your party will not be the first of a flood of visitors from home. I should hate to think that Corfu might become a popular tourist destination, overwhelmed by throngs of vulgar, nouveau riche tradesmen in search of new sensations.”
“I think there can be little danger of that, Sir Thomas,” I replied. “In fact I would make so bold as to prophesy that it will never happen. It is too out of the way, too difficult of access for anyone to come here without a most pressing motive.”
“Aye, and what might your pressing motive be, I wonder?”
I was saved from having to answer this peculiar question by a din, as of a riot breaking out in the street outside.
“Damn the rascals!” cried Sir Thomas, “Always making a row about something! Can nothing satisfy them?”
“I am sure it is nothing of importance, Sir Thomas,” said Wickham.
“Surely not,” I agreed, “For the isle is full of noises, that give delight and hurt not. It is generally agreed to be Prospero’s isle, is it not?”
“Prospero? Was he one of the Venetian governors? I do not recollect the name.”
“Prospero, the great magician in Shakespeare’s Tempest. Corfu is generally agreed to be its setting.”
“Well, it may have been Prospero’s isle once, but I’ll tell you whose it is now. It’s John Bull’s, and it�
�s my business to keep it that way. It is not my business to take any notice of what happens on the mainland. Johnny Turk may burn churches, crucify priests and carry off maidens to his heart’s content, provided they are not our churches or our maidens, and there is nothing I may do about it. I do not say that this coincides with my own inclinations. I make no mention of what my own inclinations might be. Until His Majesty’s Government takes a position upon these ‘Turkish Atrocities’, then I am bound to have no position myself, no matter how many scheming Greeks and ambitious junior officers may think otherwise. You may tell that to Viscount Hapworth, or whoever else it was who sent you, whenever you choose, Mr Bennet. But, I repeat, I am happy to meet you, and your family, and my lord Hapworth’s too.”
His happiness did not seem exactly unbounded, and I remarked as much to Wickham when we once again had leisure.
“Oh, you are seeing his nibs on a good day,” he replied. “He has not thrown anyone out, or reduced anyone to tears yet. That remark about ‘ambitious junior officers’ was a fling at me, of course. He has never made any secret at his resentment that there should be another General Officer on the island, and lets no opportunity go by of reminding me that he is a Lieutenant General and Knight Grand Cross of both the Bath and the royal Guelphic Order, while I am a mere Brigadier General, and that only by brevet, and no more than a humble knight of the Bath. His creatures are everywhere, and it is only because he disdains to soil his hands with something so humble as road building that my engineers get anything done. But here is Count Makrocephalo, who may be able to tell you something of the island’s antiquities that interest you so much.”
Our Neighbours' Sport Beyond the Seas Page 10