In 1617 a Welsh Colony of Men and Women Was Established at Aquafort on the East Coast of the Avalon Peninsula in Newfoundland
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56 “Grandezza in Newfoundland” Andrew Fitzmaurice, University of Sydney “Lost Colonies” Conference, March 26-27, 2004 (Please do not cite, quote, or circulate without written permission from the author) In 1617 a Welsh colony of men and women was established at Aquafort on the east coast of the Avalon peninsula in Newfoundland. In 1618, Captain Richard Whitbourne was appointed governor of the struggling colony and moved it a short distance south to Renews. In 1619 these ‘Welsh fooles’, as one contemporary described them, packed up and went home. This colony was spectacularly unsuccessful, even by the standards of British colonisation. The colonists had done little to promote their survival and passed their time huddled in the huts built by the summer fisherman who visited Newfoundland from Europe. And yet, in the vision which had inspired this colony lay the future success of European colonisation. The Aquafort colony had been conceived and financed by the Welshman William Vaughan. Born in 1577, Vaughan was an Oxford-educated member of an old family of Welsh landowners. He had travelled in Europe and received the title of Doctor of Law in Vienna. He published prolifically on a variety of subjects, particularly moral philosophy. In 1616 the Newfoundland Company assigned Vaughan, now resettled in Wales, the southern third of the Avalon peninsula for the purpose of establishing a colony. Gillian Cell has declared ‘One can only speculate as to how and why this scholarly man became involved with the colonisation of Newfoundland’.1 For Vaughan, however, like so many of his contemporaries, it was precisely his scholarship that motivated and informed his colonising efforts. In almost all of his publications, Vaughan showed himself to be a devotee of the so-called ‘new humanism’ which was so deeply concerned with the question of interests. One of the most fundamental differences that separates modern from pre-modern Occidental cultures arises from the perception of interests, both self interests and the 1 Gillian T. Cell, ed., Newfoundland discovered (London, 1982), p.20. 57 interests of the state, prince, or city. In classical, medieval and early-modern societies the pursuit of self-interest was almost universally frowned upon as equivalent to corruption. These were societies in which the community was placed before the individual, in which to be human, as Aristotle put it, was to be a political animal. Virtue was required from, and taught to, citizens and subjects so that they would put the common good before their own concerns. Even where the interests of the political community were in conflict with virtue or honour it was believed that the latter should prevail. There was, of course, a gap, as Machiavelli would point out, between beliefs in how people should behave and how they did behave. People have been, perhaps, equally self-interested at all times. Nevertheless, although ideology did not determine behaviour, it had a negative role in limiting and shaping what it was possible to legitimise and therefore what it was possible to do and, moreover, it had a positive role in motivating actions. Between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, attitudes to interest underwent a profound transformation. Increasingly, it became possible to countenance the possibility of putting interests before virtue. In the sixteenth century, writers such as Justus Lipsius and Michel de Montaigne saw self-interest as necessary for survival against a background of the European wars of religion.2 And in the eighteenth century, writers such as Bernard Mandeville and Adam Smith began to celebrate the possibilities of the pursuit of self- interest against the background of the rise of commercial society.3 These developments had an equivalent in the realm of the principality and the state. Machiavelli, most famously, and then numerous sixteenth and seventeenth century writers explored the possibility of the prince and state pursuing their own interests to the exclusion of all else (which, as for individuals, meant not always acting virtuously). The aim which these writers gave to the state was the pursuit of grandezza, grandeur, or greatness, which had evolved out of the Renaissance humanist concern with glory. The instruments for pursuing this aim were called ragione de stato, raison d’état, or reason of state. Changing early modern European attitudes to interest found a parallel in the perception of colonisation. Indeed, colonisation had been central to the concern about 2 See Richard Tuck, Philosophy and government, 1572-1651 (Cambridge, 1993). 3 M.M. Goldsmith, ‘Liberty, luxury and the pursuit of happiness’, in Anthony Pagden, ed., The languages of political theory in early modern Europe (Cambridge, 1987), 225-51; I. Hont and M. Ignatieff, eds., Wealth and virtue: The shaping of political economy in the Scottish Enlightenment (Cambridge, 1983). 58 interest in both the ancient and the Renaissance world. According to classical and humanist authorities, Rome’s colonies had created wealth which had diverted the citizens from pursuit of the common good.4 Robert Johnson, Vaughan’s contemporary and a leader of the Virginia Company, made precisely this observation on the causes of the decline of Rome in Nova Britannia, his tract promoting the Virginia colony: ‘The honour of our nation is now very great by his Majesties meanes and wee his subjects cannot enlarge and uphold it by gazing on, and talking what hath beene done, but by doing that good, which may bee commended hereafter, if we sitte still and let slip occasions, we shall gather rust, and doe unfeather our owne wings, committing the folly of the wise Romans herein, that in time of their glory, flowing with the Conquests and spoiles of the world, and having gotten the Goddesse Victoria to Rome, they clipt her wings, and set her up among their Gods, that shee might take her flight no more, as shee had formerly done from the Gretians and others, and so effeminating their valour with idleness and security, it brought confusion and ruine to their state’.5 English attitudes to colonisation in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries were dominated by such nervous sentiments. Clearly, profit and interest were not a part of the ontology of colonisation. And yet, by the eighteenth century colonisation had come to be intrinsically identified with commerce. My concern in this paper is to explore at what point interest, unfettered by classical anxieties, did become a motive for colonisation. William Vaughan’s colonial efforts are an important part of that story. Vaughan was a follower of the ‘new’ humanism of Lipsius and Montaigne. Against the background of the Reformation, these writers found that Ciceronian ideals of self denial and pursuit of the common good were lofty and forlorn. The histories of Tacitus were believed to be far more appropriate as a guide to political behaviour. By the 4 On this theme, see: David Armitage, The ideological origins of the British Empire (Cambridge, 2000); Andrew Fitzmaurice, Humanism and America: An intellectual history of English colonisation, 1500-1625 (Cambridge, 2003). 5 Robert Johnson, Nova Britannia (London, 1609), sig.E2v. In his essay ‘Of histories’ Johnson also made the conventional humanist observation on the wealth of the empire as a cause of the decline of Rome: ‘comming to the height of felicitie, and flowing with the spoiles of the whol world, over-swaied with their owne grandeure, began to quaile in the last act, and after a safe escape from the maine sea of forraine incumberances, to suffer shipwracke in the haven’. He concluded ‘Their valour made them quiet, & quiet wealthy: but according to the revolution of al things with a swift & violent return their wealth effeminated their valor with idleness, idleness occasioned disorder, disorder made ruine’, Robert Johnson, Essaies (London, 1601), sigs D6r-v. See also Fitzmaurice, Humanism and America on the extent to which this theme was treated in early modern Engllish colonial literature. 59 early seventeenth century, Tacitus had become one of the most influential –if not the most influential - of the classical authors who formed the core of European education. Tacitus, rather than the republican Cicero, was believed better to prepare subjects for the life lived under the princes and in the courts of early modern Europe. This was a world in which virtue was perceived as treason, in which it was necessary to sweat when the prince sweats, laugh when he laughs, and in which survival, and therefore self-interest, rather than the common good, was the guide to behaviour. In his essay ‘Of histories’, Robert Johnson evaluated which of the diverse writers he preferred and concludes: ‘I prefer Tacitus as the best that any man can dwell upon: Hee sheweth the miseries of a torne and declining state, where it was a capital crime to bee virtuous, and nothing so unsafe as to bee securely innocent: where great mens gestures were particularly interpreted, their actions aggravated, and construed to proceed from an aspiring intent: and the Prince too suspitiously iealous touching points of concurancy, suppressed men of great desert, as competitors with them in that chiefest ground, the love of the people’.6 In the Golden grove, Vaughan’s work in moral philosophy (‘for all such, as would know how to governe themselves, their houses, or their countrey’7) published in 1600, he showed himself to be an early convert to this Tacitean humanism. The work repeatedly cites Tacitus and Lipsius. The chapter ‘Of tyrants’ employs Tacitus in its listing of six ways to know a tyrant.8 The work is infused with the cynicism of courtly culture and a concern about ‘the corrupt nature of this age’.9 Citing Lipsius, Vaughan observed: ‘Many affect the place of a monarch, not to any good end (they being not good themselves).10 The concern of new humanists with interests fed the early modern appetite for greatness.