This story is for Gore Vidal.
My Dearest Mary,
We set sail for the tropics, as planned, in late October, 1808. I am to deliver some letters from His Majesty's government to a Spanish gentleman in Havana, Cuba. I am to await his response. I am instructed to deliver that response, personally, to His Majesty's ambassador. We will then, my dear, be able to marry at last.
Of course, I cannot place in writing my instructions. There is much that must remain obscure for reasons that you will appreciate better than anyone. My travelling companion is an old wooden trunk, filled with books, paper, pen and ink. I have few garments and none that are costly. I am to pass for an indifferent merchant, looking into the tobacco business or rum in the tropics. I could not, in good conscience or, convincingly, feign an interest in the slave industry.
I shall pass my cold and lonely evenings in the company of Mr. Hume and Mr. Locke. I whisper Shakespeare's verses and your name in my cabin each night. I shall endeavor to amuse my solitariness with Mr. Fielding's locutions and the adventures of his Tom Jones. Smollett shall preserve my humor. I am well acquainted with Mr. Humphry Clinker. Richardson's Pamela will draw tears from my eyes, even as the fish in these rich waters are brought on board by loyal English sailors. We see God's bounty everywhere.
My first full day on board this handsome vessel is filled with activity. The sky is clear, the color of saphires. (No, I must avoid all references to jewels! -- the only jewels to be mentioned will be the emeralds in your eyes.) Let me try again: The sky is bluer than the ocean's satiny hue, flecked with wispy clouds, a gentle wind from the east fills our sails. One hears the groaning and stretching of the wood on a ship such as this. I sail on "H.M.S. Amathea." Her years in service are counted in the scars and knots on her worn brown skin.
The sugar trade in Cienfuegos has worn and scarred the brown flesh of many poor devils. I continue to revile that loathsome industry that trades in human flesh. The slavery that makes many men wealthy is an evil thing. The captain of this ship saw at once that I am a gentleman and invited me to dine in his cabin. I was struck by the harsh discipline to which the seamen are subjected. I was assured that these methods are vitally necessary to ensure obedience.
I am merely a passenger, of course. Yet it seems to me that so little compassion or kindness must alter and deform these men, making them more coarse and brutal, allowing them to leap into the arms of native women. They must not be allowed to forget that they are Englishmen.
There are sound reasons why these letters must not be dated. This separation is painful beyond words for me. I know how difficult it must be for you. I cannot be mistaken in my understanding of what we have felt, both what is spoken and unspoken. I am sure that, if I see you again, it will mean that I have succeeded in my mission and that there can be no further obstacle to our union.
My candle is burning low ... there are few candles to last for this long journey. I must rest. I promise to describe my dinner with Captain Charles Nelson and the officers of this good ship.
Please believe me always,
Your devoted servant,
William Martin
My Good William,
I was delighted to receive your letter. I am certain that you will, as always, do your utmost to bring about our happy union. In my small way, as a lady of modest means, I will do all that I can to speed your mission to its happy conclusion.
Father's illness has allowed me to take charge of the mill and shops. In one month, I have doubled all sales and increased profits, even after costs and debts have been paid. I expect to expand -- what I hope and anticipate will be "our" interests -- by developing (with a seamstress whose services I have engaged for this purpose) ladies' fashions made to appear far more costly than they are in truth. Most ladies wish to appear more expensively dressed than they are in fact, especially those who are wealthy. This is most curious.
In the evenings, of course, I care for father in his illness. I sit reading by the fire and thinking of you. You are so brave and clever. However, you must not think yourself so brave and clever as to risk your neck unnecessarily, William. Do what you must for the crown -- and see to it that any remuneration is delivered in a prompt fashion.
At the moment, I am much involved in the tales of Mrs. Radcliffe. I dream of you nightly. The days are such as our climate rarely affords. I recall our conversations during our walks on pleasant afternoons. I first cared for you when I saw your respect for my opinions and your willingness to discuss serious subjects with me, even though I am only a woman -- more so, as I realized that you acknowledged learning from me, even asking for my instruction on questions of international affairs. For an English gentleman who has been to a public school and Oxford University, such intelligence is most rare.
Please tell me of your adventures, William. We ladies are denied the opportunity to experience so much of life, that you must live these events for me, then tell me of them with all luxuries of detail. I miss you greatly, William. You do not appreciate that you are a very unusual man.
With all affection, your devoted friend
-- Mary Lanchester
My Dearest Mary,
Captain Charles Nelson is a hale fellow, large, powerful, brutal and alert. There is animal cleverness in his eyes, balanced by a quick smile, generosity and a welcoming disposition. There are a surprising number of good books in his cabin. I see Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, a complete Shakespeare, accounts of naval battles, Mr. Hume's histories, as well as other interesting volumes. Our ship's doctor is a scientific man who is taciturn and silent, Dr. James Newton. First Mate of our good ship is a young man filled with revolutionary ideas and much hope for the new century, Mr. Harry Godwin.
The seas are calm and it is cool when we meet. We are welcomed to the captain's cabin with good brandy and a hearty laugh. We discuss the absence of ladies and their salutary effect on gentlemen's manners.
"We miss them, sir ... as we miss England. We are creatures of duty. There is much work to be done if we are to bring the wealth of the new world to England's shores."
"Indeed." I am endeavoring to gain a measure of the man.
"More important than wealth is our civilizing mission to bring the truth of our Lord to these primitive peoples."
Mr. Godwin is devout. We receive a skeptical glance from Dr. Newton. We are served by a young sailor who has earned the captain's trust as cabin boy. Captain Nelson believes that the young man has the makings of an officer.
"Are these dangerous waters, captain?"
"There are Spanish pirates in these waters, sir."
"I am sure that we are well protected in your hands, captain, in this good English ship."
"Indeed." Mr. Godwin is effusive ... and redundant.
"The slave trade and tobacco as well as sugar are highly profitable. Vessels returning to Britain are fat targets for Spanish pirates. Of course, detestable French ships also patrol these waters."
Our captain speaks in a rich baritone voice accustomed to being obeyed. We sit at a large wooden table that also serves as a writing desk where the captain's log is kept. Daily entries in a bold script chronicle our adventures and the progress made on our journey.
"Slavery is not an industry that attracts me." I am tactful.
"We must abolish the institution of slavery. We must bring the Word of salvation to these people."
Mr. Godwin is seated in a comfortable chair in the captain's presence, drawing a frown from our host.
"Slaves are what they are, Mr. Godwin, because it is God's will. Our duty is to bring the light of civilization to dark lands. English law and manners are what they need. Depend upon it, all will be well if the wealth of these lands is used to strengthen the empire. A man may still make a fortune in this wild trade, Mr. Martin, and return to England a gentleman of property."
"This is fortunate." I can hardly challenge the man's opinions then accept his hospitality.
"I wonder whether these people we enslave regard themselves as 'fortunate,' captain?" Dr. Newton wishes to appear cynical. I can not believe that any physician is as despairing of altruism and Christian charity as he seems to be.
"I fear that I am not a great admirer of that industry. I recognize, of course, the fortunes to be made in tobacco and rum, sugar and gold in this new world. I see that England's wealth and power is based on commerce with the world. Commerce is good for all -- especially for ourselves, it appears."
"We do a service by educating these simple persons, Mr. Martin. We lift them from the darkness of their barbarous lives. Why, many of these dark-skinned people were devoted to fishing and agriculture, simplicity and copulation, peacefully enjoying their days without a single thought of conquest or empire-building. They had no industry or military tradition whatsoever. Such a shocking lack of civilization is not natural to God's creatures."
Mr. Godwin, evidently, is a humanitarian: "No indeed."
Dr. Newton appears to favor irony as a rhetorical mode. I am beginning to know my companions on this journey.
"Some of these inferior people have travelled to Europe, learning to play musical instruments, even becoming virtuosi." Mr. Godwin sipped his brandy, explaining his theory. "It is believed, by some persons, that a few dark-skinned creatures are capable of learning to read."
Mr. Godwin is not earning the captain's admiration by this effusion. I am compelled to respond: "I believe that men and women who are enslaved are very much like us, Mr. Godwin. No better and no worse. I am sure that slavery is an evil institution -- if you'll forgive my saying so, captain -- and that it will be abolished someday, throughout the empire."
Captain Nelson seemed more amused than angry: "I beg to differ."
"As do I, Mr. Martin, for quite different reasons." Dr. Newton paced the captain's cabin, glancing at the books on Captain Nelson's shelves.
"I fear that this is an old quarrel between us, Mr. Martin. We are both pessimists concerning the human condition. Dr. Newton believes that we are more animal than spirit, as barbarous and cruel as the people we save from ignorance and despair in their primitive societies. We save them by allowing them to serve us -- service is all for which nature has fitted them. It is for their own good that we do this kindness. European man must rule inferior peoples for their own sakes in order to allow for their eternal salvation. This is a burden placed upon us by God. For this reason -- because our concern is with their spirits -- we must confiscate their property. Material wealth would be a burden on their simple lives. We must lift this burden from their shoulders."
"Most of the sailors on this vessel are ignorant savages, no better and often far worse than the men and women we enslave."
Dr. Newton is a radical freethinker, it seems.
"Nonsense, doctor, one need only glance at these men -- or at the happy slaves in the British islands in the tropics -- to see that they are where nature intended them to be. We are doing God's work, sir."
"For a handsome profit, captain."
"For God and country."
"Gentlemen, let us put aside politics and discuss a more pleasant subject. Surely, our ladies are in need of our protection for more obvious reasons. On that duty to provide protection to our weaker companions we can all agree."
I was pleased to strike the right note of reconciliation before dinner was served.
"Heartily." Mr. Godwin agrees on this question of duties owed to ladies. The men on this ship dine on "rat stew," which is said to be tasty. The captain favors us with salted meats and excellent fish from these waters. The wine is French and preferable to that nation's war ships. Captain Nelson partakes of an astonishing volume of the liquid. Two glasses are my limit. Mr. Godwin does not drink at all. Dr. Newton reveals a dry sense of humor and ready wit.
I fear that our conversation was not such as I should repeat in this letter, for which I apologize. Men on a vessel such as this are prone to revert to more primitive emotions, as they are deprived of the civilizing company of ladies of distinction and accomplishment, such as yourself. I am about to retire for the evening. It is nearly midnight. I wished to set down these thoughts while the events are fresh in my mind.
I long for your opinions on these matters. I wish you could estimate the quality of my new friends. Your judgments of persons is so sharp, Mary.
As always,
Your devoted servant,
William Martin
My Good William,
I fear that the word "copulation" in your missive nearly caused me to faint. All good ladies are expected and taught that they must collapse upon the introduction of such a ... horrid and picturesque word in conversation. Unhappily, I was without my smelling salts. Thus, I declined to faint. Indeed, I found it necessary to read the word several times to ensure that I had, as it were, "grasped" your meaning.
It appears, William, that the company of sailors has improved your manners far more than Oxford University. I assure you, William, that we ladies are a bit more "sturdy" -- as the Americans say -- than you imagine. I dare say that I might surmise the nature of your undisclosed conversation with the persons on board this English ship.
What is more, I am persuaded that "English sailors" cannot be all that different from their French, Spanish or German cousins. I have no fear for the native women of whom you speak. I am only distressed at the fate of our naval forces in the grasp, in a manner of speaking, of such female persons.
You will be pleased to learn that the new profits have allowed me to purchase a second mill in father's name. I have retained the services of a shop steward to assist in the daily operations of this enterprise. The fashionable ladies have begun to purchase the dresses that we make. I am informed that we may expect a visit from royalty soon. I will keep you well apprised of these developments.
I can think of no higher honor than the opportunity to create a gown for one of HRH's lady "friends." I am certain that such a gown would be frightfully costly.
You speak of the duty to protect ladies, such as myself, from the great hazards in this world. I cannot tell you of my unmitigated delight and sense of ease at such protection. I feel safe already, William. For a moment or two, however, I allow myself to feel concerned for you. We ladies are certain that it is we, in our humble ways, who provide much of the rescuing in this world. I urge you to read Mary Wollstonecraft's essay "Vindication of the Rights of Woman." I would send the book to you. Yet I fear that any parcel would not reach you before your return to London. I will preserve a copy for you. I say this -- you may not understand me -- only because I love and admire you. There are few men to whom I would suggest reading such a book.
I think well of Mr. William Godwin's philosophical treatise (does he bear any relation to this "Harry Godwin"?) and, even more, of the adventures of his "Caleb Williams."
Slavery is vile. Please believe that there are many forms of slavery, William, also of resistance to servitude and striving for freedom. The wages paid to persons in London barely provide for subsistence. The sailors on this ship seem quite miserable. I will not exploit so cruelly any human being. I pay decent wages for work well done.
Most men on your ship seem squalid and brutal, including Captain Nelson. No empire built upon the backs of such men can bode well for this kingdom's future prospects. Conquest and empire are words too easily on the lips of men accustomed to rule -- rule over servants and their females, often without pity or any human compassion.
Can they do more for strangers in distant lands? I am doubtful that English rule -- wise and preferable as it may be in comparison with French and German, or Spanish tyranny -- is always a blessing for such foreign men and women.
I am to meet a Mr. Coleridge and other literary men at a ball where I am to accompany my married sister. The men do not speak to me. I am too plain. The women regard themselves as my superiors because they are wed. I am a "spinster" at five-and-twenty years. Hurry home, William. I am quite sufficiently rescued.
As always, yours in loyalty and true affection,
Mary Lanchester
My Dearest Mary,
There is nothing plain or simple about you, my dear.
I must apologize for the word "copulation." I cannot imagine what I was thinking when the word invaded my mind after the Captain's pronouncement of it. For days I have been unable to write. Storms have battered this ship. We have taken a great deal of water on board. Some food has been lost. With the return of calmer seas, we are once again making steady progress. Another two weeks should see us arrive at Havana.
My friendship with our captain grows. During late evening dinners, we discuss politics and the responsibilities of command. The brutality directed at the men under his charge are but mild reflections of what he has known in his hard life. I cannot see the world in his war-like terms. Yet I recognize that this may well be the result of living in a different, much more pleasant country than he has known. After all, Captain Nelson -- not an industrious scribbler, like me -- is the kind of man needed to build an empire.
I recall our conversations before the fire in your father's library when you asked: "Is it right that we should rule over others?"
I cannot say, Mary. I only feel life as an Englishman. Your travels and international sophistication make you more fit to decide such matters.
I am told that you "are in need of rough handling or command" by our captain. I cannot begin to understand such thinking when it concerns English ladies. Clearly, my views are in the minority. I see our duties of care for ladies as essentially benevolent. Captain Nelson believes that women are in need of instruction and guidance, like children or the mad in Bedlam. I wonder what he would say if he met you? You have convinced me to read Miss Wollstonecraft. Or was it Mrs. Godwin, finally? I understand that Mr. Godwin was quite forlorn at the death of his beloved. Do you meet such persons in London? Are we men not obliged to care for and protect our ladies, Mary? Can a person "belong" to another human being, unwillingly? Perhaps Shakespeare is wisest of all -- "Call we these delicate creatures ours, but not their appetites ..."
Shall I command your appetites? I would not dare to do so. Would we, men, approve of efforts to imprison our souls, even with the most altruistic of motives? I can not believe it. Few men are disturbed by their own appetites or constrained in efforts to curtail them, fewer still feel any need to do so. I wonder what you think of all this?
... The fish in these waters are like none to be seen in England. The colors become sharper, the ocean more beautiful and turbulent, with green and black inky darkness just under the surface of the waters beneath a powder blue sky -- a sky that is decorated with cotton-like clouds. The heat is scarsely bearable even in November.
I miss you more than ever, Mary. Longing to see you soon, I remain --
-- Your faithful servant,
William Martin
My Good William,
This Captain Nelson is no doubt the slave of a ... well, let us say, of a strumpet in some corner of London.
We may only see the world from our places of good fortune and ease, William. There is an immense amount of suffering in the world. I have always believed that powerful men in all the kingdoms of the earth are driven by the hunger for personal power above all other considerations.
I readily concede that England's laws are a fortunate and hard won fruit of our painful history. English liberty is something of a miracle. Naturally, this miracle has led our government to contemplate war with America. The Americans, absurdly, are seeking liberty for themselves. I doubt that such a war can be more than five years distant. I would have you home, near me, long before the first battles in this next war are fought.
As a woman, I can only regard most military expeditions as stupid and horribly wasteful. I will weep for young men wounded and killed in this coming conflict, as I have before -- wounded and killed for no useful purpose that I can see.
The Austens will be visiting London from Hampshire. All of the ladies will be guests at our London house for tea, including Miss Jane Austen. I will tell her all about you. Miss Austen takes great pleasure in writing stories to amuse the family and guests. Perhaps she will transform you into one of her married male personages.
I hope I have not distressed you, utterly, by my use of the word "MARRIED." I am five-and-twenty, William.
I have passed from Mrs. Radcliffe to Sir Walter Scott. I find myself being rescued by any number of knights on horseback in the pages of Mr. Scott's book. I much prefer the thought of your pleasant company and sweet laughter to all the rescuing in the world.
You are quite correct. Men and women who are enslaved are no different from us. There are moments when I feel a need to cry at the ... small province to which we ladies are confined -- for our safety and welfare, of course. I assure you that I can well understand slavery. Yes, I have travelled to the Continent with father and ladies' companions. Tutors have prepared me well in modern languages, Latin and Greek, philosophy and sciences. Men who tutor Oxford students express admiration for my intellect. I cannot attend any university in Christendom, William. I cannot assert my concerns in public life, even as my days are affected by decisions taken in a land that is called a "Kingdom of Liberty."
Am I not a kind of slave? Would you accept this condition, however benevolent or well-intentioned it may be? Think of my distress, William. Can you not feel my pain?
Awaiting your return,
Mary Lanchester
My Dearest Mary,
I can indeed feel your discomfort, my dear. I have every expectation that this adventure will allow us to marry. Finally, we are within sight of land!
I must apologize for my silence for more than a week. I have found little time to write. Vessels have come to greet us from the port of Havana. We have been given most excellent fruit, and soft, warm bread -- it has been weeks since I have tasted fresh bread! -- also a gift from the Spanish official governing this happy island to each of the gentlemen on board this vessel of a bottle of rum and the most extraordinary cigars that I have ever smoked. I am delighted by my sudden good fortune. I have been invited to meet the Viceroy and to dine at his home in the city.
The gentleman who brought these cigars, pressed them into my hands with these words:
"Smoke one daily after dinner; and when you procure any that are better, do a fastidious old smoker the great kindness to inform him where they are to be found."
The fellow had the look of an old rogue. Yet he was clearly a man of culture and travel. Antonio spoke English well and had seen military adventures with forces on the Continent.
This is a land where men are kings, it seems. Their women are rumored to be beautiful and mysterious, speaking a language of fans. Elaborate fans are made by women, consisting of astonishing colors, waved before their faces in a set of signals I do not understand. This is, indeed, a strange city.
We have come ashore to replenish our supplies. I am expected by a number of officials. The business for which I have come is quickly resolved. I am informed, sadly, by His Majesty's representative that there will be no reward in gold for my service to the crown. I was misinformed on that subject. This means that, upon my return, I must devise some further scheme to find the means by which to marry.
I know that you will delight with me in my service nonetheless -- despite this unfortunate absence of remuneration -- and in my receipt of the undying gratitude of His Majesty's government.
The city of Havana is lovely. Many structures date from early in the last century. In the evenings, there is a breeze from the ocean, as the better sort of people stroll by the waters. Slaves work in the piers. Their pained expressions confirm many of my suspicions concerning that vile industry.
We are greeted at the palace of the Viceroy by a slave in formal attire. Slave boys cater to our every need. We are escorted into a handsome library on the second floor of this marble palace. I shall set the scene for you: There are perhaps a dozen ladies in beautiful long dresses with wide skirts, in the latest Spanish fashions. Sr. Goya might paint them. The gentlemen are mostly in uniform. Some men wear long trousers in the revolutionary French fashion, expressing sympathy for that cause, I take it, and there are whispered longings for independence from the Spanish sovereign even in this distinguished company.
Most of the landowners own slaves. Some slaves are dressed in fine livery as a sign of their owners' wealth. I have met several men who have visited London who speak excellent English. They were relieved to discover that we are not Americans. I fear that you may be correct in seeing that war with our former colonies can not be avoided. The persons of fashion in this society are evenly divided between those sympathetic to the cause of independence in the New World and those whose loathing of Americans prevents them from offering any sympathy to our former colonies.
Dancing in the latest European styles, surprisingly, was available. I was introduced to several ladies who expressed quite literate opinions. I discoursed easily in French, Spanish and English concerning literary and political matters with highly intelligent ladies. Their husbands were less literary and much less clever. Several ladies played musical instruments quite well. Some of the men have inherited vast fortunes made in rum and slavery. Many lesser members of European noble families have established great residences in this beautiful island.
The food was exquisite, fruits such as I have never tasted, roast meats, fresh vegetables. I will depart after a few more days of exploration. I look forward to seeing you in not more than a month's time.
Your devoted servant,
William Martin
Westminster Gazette:
February 3, 1810, Mr. William Martin and the former Miss Mary Lanchester were wed in St. Paul's Cathedral in the city of London. Mr. Martin has entered into partnership in the operations of several mills with the bride's father, Mr. Edward Lanchester. These gentlemen have established a successful ladies' clothing firm that will soon engage in business in Paris and in many cities throughout the nation. Mr. Martin will lecture at Oxford University and intends to contribute notices of new plays to several periodicals, including The Westminster Gazette.
