Bermuda: The Gentleman Poet by Kathryn Johnson

Blending a historic shipwreck off the Bermudas and Shakespeare’s writing of The Tempest in an imaginary tale of new beginnings, The Gentleman Poet by Kathryn Johnson is historical fiction on a simple, human scale. The drama lies in the forging of relationships in the face of hardship and personal secrets. If anything, mystery and danger are too underplayed, yet sparkling writing makes even the ordinary interesting.

 

1609. On the way to aid the struggling new settlement of Jamestown in His Majesty King James I’s colony of Virginia, the flagship is separated from the rest of the fleet by a hurricane. The wreckage of the Sea Venture founders on a coral reef off the Bermudas.

Elizabeth Miranda Persons has already lost everyone she loves and everything she owns to the Crown’s persecution of Catholics and to the plague. Forced by necessity into servitude to an influential but querulous court lady, her workload further increases when she is assigned to help feed the survivors. With little to live for and less to hope for, she is surprised to discover cooking brings a freedom she never expected. But many eyes observe her as she wanders the island in search of herbs and other useful plants; and safety, which has long eluded her, comes at a price even in paradise.

 

The subtitle of The Gentleman Poet is A Novel of Love, Danger, and Shakespeare’s The Tempest. True to expectation, the novel opens dramatically with the storm that wrecked the real-life flagship of The Third Supply and led to the British colonisation of the Bermudas, at that time avoided by all mariners as "The Devil’s Islands". Whereas Shakespeare’s imagination may have been fired up by passenger Will Strachey’s account of the Sea Venture’s voyage, conjuring up a play filled with wizardry and magic, The Gentleman Poet in turn discards supernatural phenomena and instead playfully proposes that Will Strachey was William Shakespeare in disguise.

While I generally enjoyed The Gentleman Poet, I must say that the manner in which Will Strachey’s identity is treated in the story felt contrived to me. Shakespeare’s name stares at the reader from the cover, Will Strachey’s identity is made much of in the back cover blurb, and the story pushes one character’s constant scribbling (and pride in it) to the reader’s attention. Frankly I did not see the point of trying to build a mystery around him. When Elizabeth, the narrator of The Gentleman Poet, discovers his secret toward the end I could only shrug. The reason for his presence on the Sea Venture is neither exploited to create tension nor does it impact either the larger plot or any of the other characters. Any intrigue associated with him lies solely in Elizabeth trying to puzzle out whether he is friend or foe to her. It all raised expectations about a big plot twist but instead amounts to “much ado about nothing”.

As the novel’s counterpart to Prospero, however, the character of Strachey, ostensibly the expedition’s historian, succeeds far better. Instead of summoning supernatural powers to direct events he records things in his journal – what exactly, is something Elizabeth grows increasingly curious about – and conducts often moody, sometimes fatherly conversations with Elizabeth even as he is writing. It is amusing to note that as he nears the last pages of his journal, the story, too, is drawing to a close  – as though he, through his questions, suggestions, encouragements, unseen doings, and even his name (“Will”) has made everything happen, his pen a magic wand.

Still, it is Elizabeth (with the middle name Miranda) who is the principal character and subject of The Gentleman Poet. While one might assume that the “danger” mentioned to in the subtitle refers to larger events it more genuinely applies to her personal circumstances. A secret Catholic and an inconsequential maid amid men drunk on palm wine and eager to cast off discipline, her fears and vulnerability are driving factors in the story. Once the the survivors reach the islands in the fourth chapter, any larger threats are confined to the precariousness that arises out of the isolation of their situation. There is rumble of mutiny, but despite general concerns nothing very serious actually eventuates, and so the real source of suspense remains the matter of Elizabeth’s safety.

For a while, the Bermudas become a paradise. The bounty of the islands is taken as proof that God has not forsaken the survivors. Birds and animals exhibit friendly curiosity toward the human invaders, the air is fresh, and there is no disease. The shipwreck seems to have levelled distinctions of class and wealth as all share the same food, lack comforts, and sleep on the floor in makeshift huts. But human nature has not changed, and before long, the wildlife has learnt to fear and gallows, stocks, and ducking pool are put in place. Events show Elizabeth that it is not supernatural monsters one need fear on The Devil’s Islands, but the malevolence that hides inside mortal men and women. Life has taught her that men are especially wicked, and that love is something they use as an excuse to force their lusts on suffering women. Thus, when the ship’s official cook, Thomas Powell, begins to take an interest in her, she doubts whether it differs from that of the lawless Robert Waters, the novel’s vicious counterpart of the play’s Caliban.

Frankly, I did not blame Elizabeth for being sceptical regarding Thomas’s true intentions. Theirs is one of those love stories that essentially develop through a process of the female protagonist saying no and the male protagonist ignoring it and pressing kisses on her despite her protests, which eventually causes her to realise that, yes, she does want him after all. Elizabeth seems a person of ordinary intelligence but at a crucial point in her relationship with Thomas the author makes her behave according to jarringly melodramatic rather than tragic convention; as a result my incipient concern for her welfare turned into eyerolling. On the whole, however, The Gentleman Poet’s very gradual but insistent love story is kept from becoming too rosy-tinted too soon by Elizabeth’s modest yet blunt personality and Thomas’s graceless albeit well-intentioned suit. It also does pay to note that this novel is a work of historical fiction, not genre romance.

Since all able-bodied men aside from the cook are required for shipbuilding and construction work, Elizabeth, as one of only two female servants on the island, must divide her duties between the demands of her employer (Mistress Horton, a stockholder in the Virginia Company which is financing the expedition) and the needs of the survivors. Fire is a constant hazard in a community surviving in rough, wooden huts, and so all cooking must take place on the beach away from habitation. For the first time since she became a servant, Elizabeth finds a measure of freedom. On her own, she roams the island for ingredients to replace the supplies of flour, sugar, herbs (though if the information provided by the linked source is correct, at least one of the wild plants Elizabeth picks – fennel (foeniculum vulgare) – was not native but actually introduced by colonists in 1616), and flavourings that were lost in the ocean, and creates new recipes based on her mother’s teachings. (Several recipes are scattered through the book, although the author advises against using them because they have not been adapted for modern cooks.) Through her food, she gains confidence, an identity of her own, and goals for the future. In fact, the novel’s main theme explores the role of identity, but although the book is titled The Gentleman Poet it is Elizabeth’s rebirth as Miranda that stands at its heart. This story, in my opinion, is the best reason to read the book.

The question of identity leads me to one of the things I wondered about throughout the book. Where are the women and what are they doing all day long? As in The Tempest, they are few in number – ten out of 150 survivors* – and they play an inexplicably subordinate and mostly unflattering role in the plot. Only a handful are mentioned by name or indeed seen at all, as if none of the women aside from Elizabeth and her servant friend Sarah seek out each other’s company or rely on each other for support. Granted, a servant’s time is not her own, but Elizabeth seems to never think about the other women or even appreciate the idea of female friendship in a place where women are so vastly outnumbered by men. Neither her low opinion of men nor her fear of being exposed as a Catholic prevents her from striking up a rapport with some of the men she meets; but with the exception of Sarah, who does not seem a close friend (they share no confidences), she forms no positive bond with any of her fellow women.

I also feel ambivalent about the ending, which in a way is true to the tenor of Elizabeth’s life while also ripe with new possibility. There is an artificiality about it that bothered me, though: an artistic construct that feels a bit self-conscious, as if events are manipulated to elicit gasps, and strong sweetener added to make the twist palatable.

Something that gave me undiluted pleasure, on the other hand, was the simple richness of Kathryn Johnson’s prose. As I wrote of my initial impressions about The Gentleman Poet, the language is fresh and immediate, supporting the first person voice superbly as well as creating atmospheric period flavour. Elizabeth emerges as a strikingly real, flesh-and-blood character true to her time.

It felt good to read historical fiction that takes place far away from the ever-popular courts and castles and deals with the lives of average people caught in an extraordinary situation. Once I stripped away the expectations of mystery and suspense raised by marketing (the cover’s back blurb and subtitle), what emerged was a simpler story that is both imaginative and very attractive in its own right. I quite liked The Gentleman Poet.

 

*According to Kathryn Johnson’s Historical Note, the characters named in the novel are drawn from the list of people who sailed on the real-life Sea Venture. Little, if anything, is known about most of them. Not mentioned in Johnson’s novel (or Note)is a passenger named John Rolfe (see more about him below, under "A film of related interest"), whose wife and baby died on Bermuda: he later went on to marry Pocahontas. (None of these stories are told in The Gentleman Poet.)

 

Recipe from The Gentleman Poet

(Avon paperback, 2010, p. 245):

 

“To Make a Gooseberry Foole

(to cheer the soul)

Pricke two good handfuls of greene Gooseberries. Scalde these until soft then poure off water. Mash with forke to make small and sweeten with Rose water and sugar (or honey, if there bee none). To a quart of Creame add Mace and set this over fire to boyle then take out the Mace and poure Creame atop Gooseberries, stirring all about. Stand till cool. Eate.”

 

Seafood forms a staple in the diet of the shipwrecked islanders, and since Johnson advises against using the recipes included in the novel (I chose to showcase the one above because it seems straightforward), here is a modern version (Gourmet, October 2000) of a Bermudian classic whose origins date back to the first British colonists.

 

"Bermuda Fish Chowder

 

• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 green bell pepper, chopped
• 1 leek (white and pale green parts only), chopped
• 2 carrots, chopped
• 1 celery rib, chopped
• 1 medium tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped
• 2 large garlic cloves, minced
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 cups fish stock or bottled clam juice
• 5 cups water
• 2 1/4 lb mixed white fish fillets such as cod, grouper, tilefish, and snapper, skin and bones removed
• 1/4 cup tomato paste
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon whole allspice, tied in a cheesecloth bag
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme, crumbled
• 1 teaspoon hot pepper sauce, or to taste
• 3 tablespoons cornstarch stirred together with 3 tablespoons water
• 12 small hard-shell clams such as littlenecks, scrubbed
• 1 lb medium shrimp, shelled and deveined
• 2 to 3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 cup dark rum, or to taste
• 2 tablespoons Sherry pepper sauce [Outerbridge’s, for example]

 
Cook onion, bell pepper, leek, carrots, celery, chopped tomato, and garlic in butter in a 6-quart wide heavy pot over moderate heat, stirring frequently, until softened, about 10 minutes. Stir in stock and water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer briskly, uncovered, 20 minutes.

Stir in fish, tomato paste, bay leaf, cheesecloth bag of allspice, thyme, hot pepper sauce, and salt and pepper to taste. Simmer 20 minutes (fish will break up), then re-stir cornstarch mixture and stir into chowder. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened, about 2 minutes.

Stir in clams, shrimp, Worcestershire sauce, and rum and gently simmer 30 minutes. Remove from heat and let chowder stand, covered, 1 hour. Gently return to a simmer and stir in Sherry pepper sauce."

 

A film of related interest: The beautifully filmed The New World is partially set in Jamestown, Virginia, only a few years after the events in The Gentleman Poet, and features the characters of John Rolfe (played by Christian Bale), one of the passengers aboard the shipwrecked Sea Venture, and Christopher Newport (played by Christopher Plummer), the ship’s captain.

A play of related interest: Obviously, The Tempest. While I personally don’t like the play it is considered one of Shakespeare’s masterpieces. The Empire Writes back lists interesting resources for Caribbean responses to the play and its performances.