BENTHAM AND THE GREEKS Sir John Laws March 2006 1. On 9 February 1823 Jeremy Bentham began to draft his commentary on the first Greek Constitution. He wrote: “To find the provisional Grecian constitution in so high a degree conformable to the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number has been matter of considerable and no less agre[e]able surprise to me.” In some ways this is a remarkable statement. In this lecture, with a few digressions, I propose to have a look at what Bentham thought of the constitution, an exercise which I intend will tell us something about the Greeks as well as something about Bentham. And there are some points of political philosophy which I will discuss along the way; so the lecture is rather loosely organised, for which I hope you will forgive me. First there is some background. 2. The provisional constitution in question was the Constitution of Epidavros. It was made at the Assembly of Epidavros, which met in the last weeks of 1821. Epidavros is in the Argolid, that north-east corner of the Peloponnese where you will also find the wonders of pre-classical Greece: Tiryns, Argos, and Mycenae rich in gold. But if you go to Epidavros, you will see a jewel of the classical period: the 4th century BC theatre, the most perfectly preserved classical Greek theatre to be found in Greece itself. Its magical acoustic is still put to good use, in 1 summer performances of the great Athenian tragedies and comedies. However the Assembly of 1821 was not held at Epidavros. It was held down the road at the nearby coastal village of Piada. Its naming of Epidavros is a good example of the Greeks’ creative approach to truth, which in some ways is richer than the conventional literalism of the English. However this is perhaps an optimistic view, not least given the opinion of Lord Byron, the greatest of the philhellenes, expressed in his journal on 28 September 1823: “The worst of them [the Greeks] is that… they are such damned liars; there never was such an incapacity for veracity shown since Eve lived in Paradise. One of them found fault the other day with the English language, because it had so few shades of a Negative, whereas a Greek can so modify a ‘No’ to a ‘Yes’, and vice versa, by the slippery qualities of his language, that prevarication may be carried to any extent and still leave a loop-hole through which perjury may slip without being perceived.” It is not entirely clear what Byron meant by the “slippery qualities” of the modern Greek language, and I can think of one instance where it is perhaps less subtle than the English. Greek makes no distinction between ‘very much’ and ‘too much’: the word parapoli does for both. I have never been able to work out whether the inference should be that excess is desirable or undesirable; but however that may be, the usage can have perplexing consequences. I have a guidebook translated from the Greek into English, which contains, as every guidebook to Greece should, an account of the spectacular Vikos Gorge in the Pindus mountains, in the north of mainland Greece. The guide expatiates upon the beauty of the place, then in its judgment of the site’s attractions for the visitor, it is described as “much too interesting”. 2 3. I digress. The Assembly of Epidavros was convened a remarkably short distance in time after the flag was raised and the Greek War of Independence begun against the Ottoman Turks in March 1821. The revolution was started in different places. Four towns in Greece each claim to have been the first, all of them in the Peloponnese; and two, Kalamata and Areopolis, in the Mani. The Mani is the central peninsula of three promontories which jut into the Mediterranean Sea at the southern end of the Greek mainland. Its people, who were given to blood feuds and building towers for houses the better to shoot each other, claimed and claim today that they were never entirely subdued by the Turks. 4. Early in the War the Greeks made considerable advances. After six months or so they had captured the four Peloponnesian fortresses of Monemvasia, Old and New Navarino and Tripolis, and had enjoyed other successes. But the Greeks were mortally inclined to fight amongst themselves. In his magnificent account of the War1, published in 2001, David Brewer describes the suspicion and hostility prevalent between three groups: the islanders, the Roumeliots (mainland Greeks north of the Gulf of Corinth) and the Peloponnesian Greeks. But there was another division, no less important, also described by Brewer2. This was between three quite different groups. There were first the civilian and ecclesiastical leaders, including 41 bishops. This group was on the whole rich, and had done well out of Ottoman rule. Secondly there were the military captains, including the great Kolokotronis, “the Old Man of the Morea”, whose mounted statue you can see in Athens just off Constitution Square. The group included some who were 1 The Flame of Freedom (John Murray, 2001). John Murray was of course Byron’s publisher. 2 These various divisions are described by Brewer in Ch. 3, pp. 125 – 128. 3 really bandits – klephts. Their relationship with the prosperous civilian leaders was – how shall I put it? uneasy, and at times adventurous. Thirdly there were what Brewer calls the westernisers: merchants, officials, and professionals of the Greek diaspora. Of these the most prominent was Mavrokordatos, who had belonged to Shelley’s circle in Italy. After the outbreak of war he took ship to Mesolongi, whither in 1824 Lord Byron was to follow, and to die. 5. As Brewer shows, when the Greeks came together in December 1821 at the Assembly of Epidavros their aim was to form a single national government (there had been two separate regional governments earlier established), and the Assembly’s first act was to appoint a committee to draw up a constitution. The work was quickly done. The provisional Constitution of Epidavros was drafted, approved and signed within a fortnight – on 13 January 1822. It was backdated by a few days to 1 January. Greek independence from the Turks was formally proclaimed on 27 January. Brewer points out3 that among other things the new national government had to “balance the conflicting claims of the various interest groups. The proceedings of the assembly were therefore not just a drily rational exercise in constitution-making; they were a covert but fierce competition for power”. 6. On 5 July 1822 Mahmud, Pasha of Drama, commonly called Dramali, crossed the River Spercheios in the Sultan’s name with the largest force seen in Greece since 1715, when the Turks had driven out the Venetians. His objective was to cross into the Peloponnese, recapture the citadel of Corinth, relieve the Turks who were blockaded at Nafplion, and recapture also the town of Tripolis in the 3 P. 128. 4 Peloponnesian hinterland. The Greeks abandoned the Acrocorinth, so that was taken. But Kolokotronis was appointed commander of the forces resisting Dramali. He inflicted a crushing defeat on Dramali at the ravine of Dervenakia, on the road between Argos and Corinth. In December 1822 Nafplion was surrendered to the Greeks. Shortly thereafter the Constitution of Epidavros was revised at Astros, 20 miles or so south of Nafplion, at a second national assembly in April 1823. 7. In the same month Edward Blaquiere and Andreas Louriotis, on their way to Greece with Bentham’s completed Observations on the constitution, stopped at Genoa to enlist the support of Lord Byron. It was this meeting that was to set Byron firmly on the course that led to Mesolongi. At length Blaquiere and Louriotis delivered Bentham’s Observations to the Greek legislature on 16 May. Now Bentham had not composed the work simply upon his own initiative. The Observations were commissioned on behalf of the Greeks: Louriotis, their agent, invited him to draft them. Bentham had in fact had some association with the Greek cause since 1821, when he was visited by Pikkolos, an emissary from Adamantios Korais. Korais is an interesting character. He had been born in Smyrna – Izmir – in 1748, the same year as Bentham. He was instrumental in promoting, if not inventing, a form of the Greek language called katharevousa, which was closer to ancient Greek than the spoken demotic. It fulfilled a political purpose as the Greeks’ aspiration for independence grew brighter: its proximity to the ancient language was a living reflection of their heritage. You could see 5 Korais’ head on the old red 100 drachma note, before the advent of the Euro; and if you go to the island of Chios, you can see his magnificent library. 8. Nor was this the limit of Bentham’s connections with Greece in the early days of the War of Independence. He was one of the first members and supporters of the London Greek Committee. Its formation in March 1823 was not unconnected with internal British politics. Voices in the Greek cause became increasingly insistent in 1821, but were to some extent muted because the foreign policy of the Tory government was one of neutrality in relation to the Greek efforts. Professor Fred Rosen of UCL says: “Neutrality meant not raising funds and not sending men and equipment to assist the Greeks in the war.”4 Professor Rosen was Director of the Bentham project. His book Bentham, Byron, and Greece is an important resource for this whole subject. I have greatly relied on it in writing this lecture.