When am I to address you as "Sir Bennet"?--as it ought to be, if I dare
express my thoughts. We look in each Honours' list expecting it.
Spencer is quite bitter on the subject, but I tell him "comparisons are
odious." At any rate I won't repeat his indiscretions.
We are all wondering here when Sir James Eccles is returning. I have
not yet had the privilege of seeing him and can only take Spencer's
opinions for guide. In Spencer's mind he is well-nigh irreplaceable.
Spencer feels it would be little less than disastrous to place the
control of Ungujan affairs in the hands of any younger or less
experienced man. With Sir James Eccles the Germans will try no
nonsense. They might even renounce their protectorate in despair if he
were to return and had the influence of his Government behind him.
Whereas with a weaker man, or even with one of no authority, merely an
"acting" Consul-General, they may go to _any_ lengths. I am foolish
enough about my Husband to think--if there _must_ be a stop-gap--that he
would be better than--well, than the present Acting Consul-General.
Spencer thoroughly distrusts the Germans and refuses even to learn their
ugly language; whereas C-p-n B. is much too friendly with them and has
gone to the length of saying we must not play the dog in the manger over
Africa. It seems there have been great German African explorers as well
as English, and Spencer's colleague thinks it rather hard they should
not have colonies as well as we. Not knowing your own views I hesitate
to express mine. And I should not be so presumptuous as to ask for any
guidance or any answer even to this letter. I dare say if you think
Spencer is to have more responsibility and initiative in the future you
will privately instruct him as to the policy of your department.
That will not help _me_ much, for Spencer, where official correspondence
is concerned, is as close as--I can't think of a parallel! I mean, he
won't tell me _anything_. Not that I am inquisitive. But I _do_ want
to be a help to him, and I also believe in the education of women. I
should like to know _all_ about Africa! But I also know your
views--though they shock me. If I may judge from our conversations on
that never-to-be-forgotten Saturday till Monday--last Easter--when Mrs.
Molyneux was good enough to ask me down to Spilsbury---- You think
Woman should confine herself to superintending the household and her
husband's comfort, to dressing well, and should not concern herself with
politics. You may be right. And yet there are moments in which I rebel
against these prescriptions. It may have been my bringing-up. My dear
father, an officer in the Navy, died when I was very young, and darling
mother brought me up with perhaps too much modern liberality. She
entertained considerably--in a modest way, of course--at our house in
North Kensington, and I was accustomed therefore from girlhood to meet
with many different types of men and women--some of them widely
travelled--and to hear a great variety of opinions.
Here, however, when I have attended to the affairs of our household--a
small one, since we no longer live in the big Consulate--and have paid
an occasional visit to some other Consul's wife or the nicer among the
missionary women, I give myself up to the study of Swahili, the local
language. Spencer, who is strong in fifty things where I am weak or
totally wanting, is not absolutely of the first quality as a linguist,
while I seem to have rather a gift that way. I am much complimented on
my French, and although I dislike German I force myself to speak it. I
can now make myself understood in what Spence calls the "dam" lingo of
the natives. And if I told you I was also grappling with Hindustani I
am afraid you would class me unfavourably with your pet aversion, a
"blue stocking"!
But I will defy your bad opinion. I am _determined_ to fit myself for
Spencer's promotion which must surely come in time, especially as we can
both stand the climate fairly well. I have only been down once with
fever since I came out, and Spence sets malaria at defiance with
cocktails and an occasional stiff whisky peg. Between us before long we
ought to know all that is worth knowing at Unguja. And Spence is _so_
popular with the natives. They instinctively look up to a strong man.
As to the missionaries they simply swarm on the island and the mainland.
Some of the Church of England ones are quite nice and are really
gentlemen and ladies. And there are one or two adorable old priests in
the French Mission who pay me pretty compliments on my French and
declare I must have learnt it in Paris. But there are also some awful
cranks. There is a Mrs. Stott who puts in an appearance once in a way
from some very wild part of the interior and asks me with great
cheerfulness if I am saved, or if I love the Lord. It is wonderful how
she keeps her appearance, as she goes about without a sunshade and has
been tossed several times by rhinoceroses. Her voracity for hymn
singing is _extraordinary_. Perhaps it acts on her constitution like
these new Swedish gymnastics.
Quite another type of recruit for the Nonconformist Missions came out
with me from England last spring. A National School mistress, I
believe, originally. She was the daughter of a farmer in Lord
Silchester's country. Some thought her pretty, but it was that
prettiness which soon evaporates under a tropical sun. She seemed to me
thoroughly insipid and had not even that faith in mission work which at
least excuses the strange proceedings of her companions. As soon as the
ship started she put herself under the wing of our Acting Consul-General
who was not slow to reciprocate. They carried on a flirtation during
the voyage which--but I am afraid I am not very modern--was _not_ the
best preparation for marrying a Methodist missionary--a dreadful
_gauche_-looking creature who came to claim her at Unguja. However a
woman should always stand by women, so I did the best I could for her
when they were married by the Acting Consul-General.
That important personage--Is he a friend of yours? If so, I will promise
to see nothing but good in him--prefers to live all alone in Sir James
Eccles' house, where Spencer had transferred himself after Sir James's
departure. We had proposed joining households with him, and I was
_quite_ ready to have made a home for him during his brief tenure of the
post. But apparently he preferred my room to my company, so of course I
did not press my offer. He entertains very little on the plea that he
is too much occupied with work and study.
Well! If I write much more you will dismiss me as a bore. So I must
sign myself,
Yours gratefully,
EMILIA BAZZARD.
P.S. I expect no answer. But if you do not order me to the contrary I
shall post you from time to time a budget of gossip from Unguja in the
hope that it may prove amusing.
There is no news at all of Stanley. Emin, they say, is still holding
out. Each steamer brings more and more Germans, to Spencer's great
disgust. E.B.
_From Captain Brentham to his sister Maud._
H.B.M. Agency,
Unguja,
_Decr._ 1, 1887.