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Bacon's Essays: Of Plantations

massacre_jamestown_1622
Massacre at Jamestown, by Matthaeus Merian in 1628

When Francis Bacon speaks of plantations, he means colonies. This essay was published in 1625, so he would have known much about the early colonization efforts of Sir Walter Raleigh and the Virginia Company. The first disastrous settlement at Jamestown was planted in 1607. He would have heard about the massacre of 1622, in which the Powhatan Confederacy tried to get rid of the troublesome interlopers once and for all. Bacon would have heard stories about starvation, disease, Indian attacks, and bitter fighting among the colonists, but this essay shows no sign of any of that. He chose instead to provide his considered opinion about how colonization ought to be done.

Plantation, not extirpation

opechancanough
Opechancanough, Powhatan’s brother, from Captain John Smith’s 1624 Generall Historie

“I like a plantation in a pure soil; that is, where people are not displanted, to the end, to plant in others. For else it is rather an extirpation, than a plantation.” Could there be a milder response to the violent conflicts between English and Indian?

Toward the end, he adds, “If you plant where savages are, do not only entertain them, with trifles and gingles, but use them justly and graciously, with sufficient guard nevertheless; and do not win their favor, by helping them to invade their enemies, but for their defence it is not amiss; and send oft of them, over to the country that plants, that they may see a better condition than their own, and commend it when they return.”

He was convinced, as all Europeans were, of the vast superiority of their own cultures and practices. It’s the way of all people, I suppose. Justice and courtesy would have gone a long way in making English colonization more successful in the long run. There was a lot of room. We would have overwhelmed the aboriginal inhabitants eventually, since agriculture supports larger populations, but it could have happened more gradually, with less bigotry and violence. My $0.02, at Jacobean rates.

Don’t be greedy

“Planting of countries, is like planting of woods; for you must make account to leese almost twenty years’ profit, and expect your recompense in the end. For the principal thing, that hath been the destruction of most plantations, hath been the base and hasty drawing of profit, in the first years.”

Bacon’s readers would understand the analogy of an investment in woods perfectly. You have to wait for the trees to grow, after all. Until then, it’s just a patch of ground. You can hunt in it, but not much else.

Choose your settlers wisely

rogues
Thieves and rogues

“It is a shameful and unblessed thing, to take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with whom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth the plantation; for they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify over to their country, to the discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, laborers, smiths, carpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers, with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and bakers.”

He might have added, don’t bring a shipload of gentlemen adventurers either. They won’t know how to work, even if they could be goaded into the manual labor required to build a town.

Later he adds, “Cram not in people, by sending too fast company after company; but rather harken how they waste, and send supplies proportionably; but so, as the number may live well in the plantation, and not by surcharge be in penury.” Harken how they waste; there’s a delicate phrasing.

Consider the victuals

Finicky Francis — advice about provender is the largest component in this essay.

jerusalem_artichokes
Jerusalem artichokes

“In a country of plantation, first look about, what kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand; as chestnuts, walnuts, pineapples, olives, dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like; and make use of them.” We’re still looking for the country that has olives, cherries, and pineapples, though I suppose he knew perfectly well those fruits didn’t grow in the same sorts of places.

“Then consider what victual or esculent things there are, which grow speedily, and within the year; as parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, radish, artichokes of Hierusalem, maize, and the like.”

Woohoo! A new word, ‘esculent.’ Here’s OED: “Suitable for food, eatable.” First citation? Francis Bacon. He probably made it up.

“For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too much labor; but with pease and beans you may begin, both because they ask less labor, and because they serve for meat, as well as for bread. And of rice, likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat. Above all, there ought to be brought store of biscuit, oat-meal, flour, meal, and the like, in the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts, or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and multiply fastest; as swine, goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, house-doves, and the like.”

He advocates a sort of communalism, all farming the community plots and sharing rationed portions of the produce.

Keep an eye out for profit

smelting
Medieval iron smelting

Don’t rush into the commercial aspects of your venture, but do keep your eyes out for ways to pay back your investors as soon as may be. You might try planting tobacco. There seems to be plenty of wood in most cases, so watch out for iron. “If there be iron ore, and streams whereupon to set the mills, iron is a brave commodity where wood aboundeth.” Takes a lot of fuel — and water, which he doesn’t worry about — to process ore.

Other options are harvesting bay salt, pitch and tar, or growing silk. That last seems highly unlikely, although the Spanish successfully planted both silk-growers and mulberry trees in Oaxaca. Bacon probably read those accounts as well, at least the ones translated into English.

“But moil not too much under ground; for the hope of mines is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters lazy, in other things.” If all you have to do is scoop up a pan-full of gold every month or two, why bother to grow crops?

Limit the government, but not too much

“For government, let it be in the hands of one, assisted with some counsel; and let them have commission to exercise martial laws, with some limitation.” Remember that God is always with you. 

“Let not the government of the plantation, depend upon too many counsellors, and undertakers, in the country that planteth, but upon a temperate number; and let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than merchants; for they [the merchants] look ever to the present gain.” It is also the function of noblemen and gentlemen to govern, though he doesn’t say this.

Location, location

Jamestown_and_James_River
The cradle of the Republic: Jamestown and the James River

“It hath been a great endangering to the health of some plantations, that they have built along the sea and rivers, in marish and unwholesome grounds. Therefore, though you begin there, to avoid carriage and like discommodities, yet build still rather upwards from the streams, than along.”

I’m reading Libbie Hawker’s excellent novel Tidewater, about the Jamestown settlers and the Powhatan Confederacy. She says the settlers suffered from a lack of fresh water seasonally, as the tide flowed higher, making the river water briny. The semi-starved men were forced to haul water from fresh springs at a considerable distance. 

 

 

Bring in the women and leave no man behind

“When the plantation grows to strength, then it is time to plant with women, as well as with men; that the plantation may spread into generations, and not be ever pieced from without. It is the sinfullest thing in the world, to forsake or destitute a plantation once in forwardness; for besides the dishonor, it is the guiltiness of blood of many commiserable persons.”

Monstrous Adversary: The 17th Earl of Oxford

(This post appeared on 3 March, 2017, at the English Historical Fiction Authors Blog.)

Edward de Vere (12 April 1550 – 24 June 1604) was the 17th Earl of Oxford and not, by contemporary17th-earl-of-oxford accounts, a very nice man. Charles Arundel, once one of the earl’s closest friends, attributed these qualities to him:

  1. atheism
  2. pathological lying
  3. subornation
  4. murder by hire
  5. sedition
  6. sexual perversion including pederasty
  7. chronic inebriation
  8. nursing of private grudges (especially against members of the Howard family)
  9. lèse majesté. (treason committed against a sovereign power.)

For comparison, an article at Psychology Today list the major characteristics of a psychopath:

  1. cold-heartedness: being callous and showing a lack of empathy.
  2. lack of ‘social emotions’, like shame, guilt, remorse.
  3. irresponsibility and blaming others for events that are actually their fault.
  4. insincere speech, ranging from glibness to pathological lying.
  5. a grandiose sense of self worth; boastfulness.
  6. pathologic egocentricity: selfishness.
  7. inability to plan for the future, lack of realistic long-term goals.
  8. violence; a low tolerance for frustration.

If you read Alan Nelson’s well-grounded biography (see reference below), you’ll probably recognize the earl in that psychology article.

A wilful child

Little Edward was a chip off the old block. His father was a violent, wilful, and inconsequential man who never sat on the Privy Council or earned the Order of the Garter. His son likewise failed to achieve any honors from his queen or his peers over the course of his fifty-four years.

When the 16th earl died in 1562, twelve-year-old Edward became a ward of Lord Burghley, the Queen’s Lord Treasurer and also Master of the Court of Wards. (Also Francis Bacon’s uncle.) Burgley ran a sort of School for Orphaned Earls in his spacious house on the Strand. Others in his care were Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, and Roger Manners, Earl of Rutland. A selective group!

hutton-swordplayBiographer Nelson suggests that the rebelliousness of Burghley’s wards stemmed from their frustration with the stodgy and pious atmosphere of Burghley House, where the boys were kept to a strict schedule with plenty of prayers. Essex and Southampton went so far as to rebel against the Queen herself in 1603.

But Oxford was more than merely rebellious. His first recorded act of violence was the killing of an undercook in 1567. Oxford was seventeen. He and a friend had been practicing with rapiers, the new weapon from the Continent. The exciting new weapon allowed the fighter to thrust and stab, rather than artlessly hacking away.

When the undercook chanced to walk across the yard, Oxford, wanting to test his new toy, drove the steel through the man’s thigh. The poor fellow died a few hours later. Burghley hastened to repress the scandal, managing the process so that the coroner’s official report stated that the undercook had been drunk and ran himself upon his lordship’s rapier while Oxford was merely  holding it in his hand, thus committing suicide. A masterpiece of spin!

Spare the rod and spoil the earl

Oxford received little punishment for the many acts of violence that punctuated his life. Nelson’s book examines several murders committed by Oxford’s men, presumably at his behest: “a massed attack on the residence of a personal enemy was, as we shall learn, Oxford’s modus operandi“.

Queen Elizabeth ignored that sort of thing among those of noble blood. But she tossed the earl into the anne-vavasourTower in 1581 for impregnating Anne Vavasour, a Maid of Honor. Anne was Towered as well, after delivering Oxford’s bastard son. Oxford never contributed anything toward the support or education of the boy.

This is hardly surprising, since he contributed next to nothing to the care of his three legitimate daughters, fruit of his union with Anne Cecil, Burghley’s daughter. Burghley brokered that match himself, eager to ally his upstart family with the ancient nobility. Alas, Oxford was no catch. Somehow he got it into his head during Anne’s first pregnancy that the child could not be his. True, he was in Italy during much of the relevant period, but not long enough to justify his accusations — seen as wicked and bizarre at the time. Oxford refused to see his wife or even live with her for five years. In spite of this callous behavior, Lord Burghley continued to defend him and supply him with funds on demand.

The wages of sin

Oxford ran through money like a socialite on a spree on Rodeo Drive. His estate was worth £12,000 in 1575. When he died in 1604, he left more debts than assets. He spent money on clothes, weapons, books, travel (especially to Italy, which he loved), retainers (a gang of violent men), and lush living.

He liked to host grand dinner parties, at which he would regale his friends with boasts and scandalous talk about his rivals and his intimate relations with the queen. He bragged that he had been offered £1,000 a year by the Pope, presumably for aiding the cause of returning England to the Catholic fold. He claimed the beauteous Countess of Mirandola had traveled 50 miles to share his bed.

He formed lifelong grudges against any man who rose in the queen’s esteem, like Sir Philip Sydney, Sir Walter Ralegh, and the Earl of Leicester. He sent an armed man to assault Sir Walter in a narrow lane behind the tennis courts at Whitehall. Unsuccessfully, needless to say. Sir Walter was no easy target.

The vampire earl

In 1584, the earl accused his best friends of treason — conspiring with Rome. History doesn’t tell us why; a rash whim or bitter humour, one supposes. The erstwhile friends rushed to testify against him to save their own skins. Charles Arundel is the one who called him “my monstrus adversarye Oxford, who wold drinke my blud rather than wine, as well as he loves it.”

signature_Edward_de_Vere_Earl_of_OxfordOxford believed in satanic magics and weird prophesies. He flirted with Catholicism, doubtless attracted by the pomp and mystery, as well as the sheer danger of dancing with the enemy. He claimed to have had visions, some holy, others profane.

All in all, he was a truly appalling example of humanity, although Nelson manages to identify one positive trait. “[H]e was of course a fine calligrapher.” Lovely handwriting; perhaps the saddest of all epitaphs.

References

Hutton, Alfred. 1892. Old Swordplay: A glance at the systems of fence in vogue during the XVIth, XVIIth, and XVIIIth centuries, with lessons arranged from the works of various ancient masters for the practical study of the use of the picturesque arms borne of forefathers. London: H. Grevel & Co.

Nelson, Alan. 2003. Monstrous Adversary: The life of Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. Liverpool University Press. [Amazon link.]