“One of the academy’s best patrons has just asked me to do a painting from a Greek myth. I am not sure whether I want to do it or not. As you know, I really prefer scenes from classic works like Cervantes and Molière.”
Morgan looked up with a distracted expression. He hadn’t been listening.
“The commission, Morgan. Should I take it? It is a Greek creation myth, the story of Eurynome and Ophion.”
Morgan’s eyes grew wide.
“What was that you said, Leslie?” he asked cautiously. “Did you say Ophion?”
“Yes, Ophion,” replied the artist nonchalantly. “No reason you should know that name. Ophion is not one of the better-known figures in Greek mythology. Why, have you heard of it?”
“No, or, maybe I have. I’m not sure. Please go on,” Morgan replied.
Leslie got up to walk around his studio to a bookshelf where he pulled out a large book on the gods of ancient Greece. He opened it to a page with an illustration of a serpent wrapped around a mermaid’s arm and handed it to Morgan.
“Look at the first chapter. Ophion was at the very center of the ancient Greek creation myth. This was at the dawn of time when Eurynome, the goddess of all things, held sway on Olympus. As the myth goes, Eurynome rose up from chaos and divided the sea from the sky. She created a giant snake called Ophion and together they ruled the universe until he became unruly. Then she banished the serpent into the underworld.”
Morgan was stroking his chin as he pondered the connection of this myth, if any, to Ophion Trading Partners. “Reminds me a little of Queen Victoria banishing the serpent of slavery from England and creating a new era. It was Queen Victoria who presided over the final act of freeing the slaves when the apprenticeship program ended in 1838. Isn’t that right, Leslie?”
The artist’s face lit up with excitement, and he grabbed the book from Morgan, slapping the illustration of Ophion and Eurynome with the back of his hand.
“That’s brilliant, Morgan! I never thought of that before. That could be the answer. I could paint Her Majesty in her coronation robes, seated on the throne with her scepter, banishing a vile-looking serpent into the ground. I will have to suggest that to my patron. The comparison is perfect. It will transform the Ophion myth into a contemporary topic.”
“Who is commissioning the painting, if I may ask?” queried Morgan.
“Well, I usually don’t divulge for whom I am painting unless, of course, it is a portrait, but I am sure it is all right to tell you as he is an old acquaintance of yours as well. It is none other than our friend Lord Nanvers.”
Morgan felt the air being sucked out of his lungs, and almost unconsciously he breathed out the name, “Nanvers.”
“Yes, it is Nanvers.”
“Why do you think Lord Nanvers wants a painting of the Ophion myth?” Morgan asked quietly.
“I wondered that as well,” replied Leslie. “I think he is becoming more reflective. He is sixty years old now, even though he doesn’t seem it. His family crest is a coiled serpent, you know.”
“Oh yes, I remember,” replied Morgan. “Nanvers has a ring with a serpent’s design, quite distinctive.”
“Yes, I think he is proud of his family heritage. He has always been an avid admirer of the sculpture of ancient Greece.”
“I don’t know much about Lord Nanvers’s family heritage, or business, Leslie. What can you tell me?”
Eager to show his familiarity with the Nanvers name, Leslie volunteered more information.
“As you know, Morgan, Lord Nanvers is George Wilberton, the third Earl of Nanvers.” His voice changed in tone as he began speaking in a whisper. “Nanvers is what they call in London’s finer circles ‘a West Indian.’ Did you know that?”
“A West Indian?” Morgan replied with a puzzled voice. “What do you mean?”
“Just a generation ago, the Wilbertons were looked down upon by some of the more established members of the landed aristocracy. I believe they were treated quite poorly because their family fortune came from the West Indies. New money, if you know what I mean. But now that the family is so ensconced in the landed aristocracy, that has changed. The transformation really began with Nanvers’s father. He tried to distance the family name from the original source of their wealth, and now I would say our good friend Nanvers has succeeded in being accepted even among some of the more snobbish aristocrats here in London.”
“Does the family still have financial interests in the West Indies?” Morgan asked in a barely restrained voice.
“I believe so. At one point, the Wilberton family had more than five working plantations in Jamaica, Nevis, and Barbados with thousands of slaves. They owned these properties for more than a century. Naturally the family owned their own ships, and were involved in transporting not only sugar but rum to England. Of course, once slavery was abolished all that changed. The family was generously compensated by the Crown for all their slaves, and as I understand it, they reduced their landholdings in the West Indies. Since then I believe they have diversified substantially, even with interests in manufacturing.”