New World, Inc.

by John Butman

  After several weeks in Moscow, Chancellor was granted what he had come for: a trade agreement from the tsar for King Edward. A letter granted permission to the English merchants to “have their free mart with all free liberties through my whole dominions with all kinds of wares to come and go at their pleasure, without any let, damage or impediment.” The tsar, in presenting Chancellor with these commercial rights, had opened the door to what the English hoped could be a significant new market for cloth and other products.25

  Satisfied with this success, Chancellor decided to return to England, even though he had not achieved the overarching goal of the expedition—to find the passage to Cathay. But perhaps Willoughby had somehow navigated his way through the ice floes and was even now trading with the Great Khan.

  BY THE TIME Chancellor guided the Edward Bonaventure back along the Thames—about a year after setting off from Ratcliffe—the situation in England had changed. The letter that Chancellor carried from the tsar was addressed to Edward VI, but the young king had been dead for nearly a year, having taken his last breath in the arms of Henry Sidney, not long after the Mysterie ships departed Greenwich.

  Also dead was John Dudley, the man who had brought Sebastian Cabot to England. He had been executed for his role in a succession plot to put Lady Jane Grey, his teenaged daughter-in-law, on the throne after Edward’s death. For nine days, Lady Jane had reigned as queen, and Dudley hoped she would buttress the cause of Protestantism and bolster his own power. But Mary Tudor, the thirty-seven-year-old Catholic daughter of Henry VIII, seized the throne with an armed force, compelled Dudley to surrender, and condemned him to death.

  Many of the merchants who had founded the Mysterie had sided with Dudley, signing the so-called “device” that transferred the throne to Lady Jane Grey. They included Sir George Barne, who was mayor at the time, William Garrard, Sir Andrew Judde, Sir John Gresham, and twelve other Staplers and Merchant Adventurers.26 But their support for Dudley melted away as Mary exerted her royal authority and they became her willing supporters. Yet these were perilous times, and the merchants had to tread carefully. In January 1554, Mary faced a Protestant rebellion, when a Kentish landowner, Sir Thomas Wyatt, led a force of three thousand to London in a bid to secure the throne for Elizabeth, Mary’s younger half-sister. This was effectively quashed. Then, six months later, Mary married Philip, ten years her junior and, as Charles V’s son, heir to the Spanish throne. This horrified English Protestants who feared persecution by the Catholic monarch and alarmed English merchants who worried that their trade monopolies might be overturned by the Spanish at court.

  These complications thrust the merchants of the Mysterie into an awkward situation. If they were going to capitalize on their investment in Chancellor’s voyage, they realized that they needed a royal charter, or an Act of Parliament, to formally establish a company to pursue the privileges of the Muscovy trade monopoly. Letters patent had been duly prepared in 1553, before the ships had departed, but Edward had not signed the document—possibly because he was too ill, possibly because Dudley was too distracted by the succession plot to follow through on the paperwork.27

  Now the Mysterie organizers had to petition Mary and Philip in order to finalize the charter. It was far from certain that the monarchs would agree to a new charter, given Philip’s likely interest in defending the terms of the Treaty of Tordesillas. But, in a sign that Spain was not particularly interested in northern territories, Mary and Philip gave their assent. Accordingly, on February 26, 1555, a charter was granted for a new company: the Company of Merchant Adventurers for the Discovery of Regions, Dominions, Islands, and Places Unknown. By dropping the word “mysterie,” which harked back to the days of the medieval guilds, the merchants could present themselves as a forward-looking commercial enterprise. Also, by commissioning a seal featuring a ship whose prow pointed to the east—very definitely not to the west—they could make it abundantly clear that they did not seek to challenge Spain.

  The Company of Merchant Adventurers (not to be confused with the Merchant Adventurers that still held the exclusive rights for cloth exports to Antwerp) was given a monopoly of trade with Muscovy and with all lands “northwards, north-eastwards or northwestwards”—a vast expanse of the world. The monopoly meant that only members of the company could trade in the designated regions. Any interlopers—people who dared to enter those regions without the company’s “licence, agreement, and consent”—would risk the forfeiture of their ships and goods.28

  On a daily basis, the company, empowered as “one body and perpetual fellowship,” was to be administered by one or two governors, four “consuls” or deputy governors, and twenty-four “assistants” or directors. Sebastian Cabot was granted the honorary title of governor-for-life, and he continued to serve as a kind of father figure to the emerging generation of overseas venturers until his death in 1557.

  Investors flocked to buy shares. In all, 201 people invested in the new company—199 men and two women, widows who probably inherited their stake from their merchant husbands.29 The merchants were dominant, and they included not only the principal doers—Sir George Barne and William Garrard—but also Sir Andrew Judde and his son-in-law, Thomas Smythe; Thomas Gresham and his uncle, Sir John; Lionel Duckett, Gresham’s business partner, and Thomas Lok, a Gresham family associate; and Sir John Yorke, who had helped conduct the revaluation of the coinage just a few years earlier.

  Among the noblemen on the list of investors were Henry FitzAlan, the Earl of Arundel, who was lord steward of the royal household; John Russell, Earl of Bedford, who was lord keeper of the privy seal; William Howard, baron Howard of Effingham, who was lord high admiral; and William Paulet, Marquis of Winchester, who was lord high treasurer. Henry Sidney and William Cecil were also investors. Although they had been close to John Dudley and supported Lady Jane Grey’s succession, they had saved themselves and their positions through political cunning. Sidney won Philip’s affection to such a degree that the future Spanish king agreed to become godfather to his son, who was dutifully named Philip. Cecil had chosen to stay in England and try to win favor, rather than follow many other committed Protestants and flee the country. He even took Spanish lessons.30

  With the charter in hand, the Company of Merchant Adventurers began preparations for the next venture—a return visit to Muscovy. In Willoughby’s absence, Richard Chancellor, who had proved himself as navigator, captain, merchant, and diplomat, was named pilot general of the fleet.31 Queen Mary and King Philip supplied a letter—in Greek, Polish, and Italian versions—to the tsar.32 Richard Eden prepared another dossier, with information translated from a variety of sources, including Peter Martyr’s Decades of the New World, the first history of Spain and Portugal’s exploits in the New World. Eden’s was a seminal work, introducing several words into the English language, including “China”—although “Cathay” continued to be the preferred word for several years.33 For the merchants’ benefit, it featured a section on the duchy of Muscovy, although some of this information was unreliable and even fanciful. One story tells of a Muscovite who fell into an eight-foot pool of honey and rescued himself by grabbing hold of the loins of a passing bear.34

  The Company of Merchant Adventurers, by now often known more simply as the Muscovy or Russia Company, prepared a new set of articles of instructions.35 Hoping to develop a long-term, sustainable commercial enterprise in Russia, the company sent a number of young merchants to serve as “Agents, Factors and Attorneys general.” These commercial representatives were invested with substantial authority to operate on the company’s behalf. In particular, they were to establish factories—that is, offices and warehouses where the factors and agents would operate, not facilities for the manufacture of goods.

  If the company focused on new business in Russia, it was careful to remind Richard Chancellor that the goal of finding a northern route to the East was not to be abandoned. He and his men were to confer with any “learned or well travailed persons” they might
encounter to determine if there really was a passage from Russia to Cathay, either overland or by sea. Neither should Willoughby be forgotten. If Chancellor and his crew gained any credible information of the whereabouts of Willoughby and his crew, they were to go there and “refresh and relieve” their compatriots.

  The final instruction (number twenty-three) echoed and elaborated on one of Cabot’s original ordinances: “It is not possible to write and indict such prescribed orders, rules and commissions” for all situations because conditions “change or shift.” The company, therefore, put its faith in its people, trusting them to work on its behalf, taking whatever actions and decisions they deemed to be “good and beneficial.” They were not only to keep the “honor, good name, fame, credit and estimation” of the company but also to consider the “public benefit of this realm” of England.36

  IN MAY 1555, Chancellor set sail once more, this time with two ships, the Edward Bonaventure and a newly constructed vessel, the Philip and Mary. The ships arrived safely at Wardhouse, and there the Philip and Mary ended the outbound leg of its journey, as intended. Its goods were exchanged and some merchants were dropped off to take up residence in the growing port, with the goal of establishing a commercial presence for the trading of English cloth for fish, fur, timber, and other goods.37 Chancellor’s ship, the Edward Bonaventure, continued east through the White Sea and then south to the mouth of the Dvina River, where the crew set up a warehouse on a small island across from a monastery of St. Nicholas.38 They named it Rose Island, a place fragrant with “roses damaske and red, of violets and wild rosemarie,” as a later visitor described it.39

  Not long after arriving there, Chancellor received—it is not clear exactly when or how—some disturbing news: Willoughby’s ships had been discovered by Russian fishermen at a location they had certainly passed on their voyage. The vessels lay at the mouth of a river the Russians knew as the Arzina, probably today’s Varzina River, which flows through the Kola Peninsula of northwestern Russia and empties into the Barents Sea some two hundred miles east of the Wardhouse. All the men had perished.40

  The news of Willoughby’s fate reached England, possibly from the crew members of the Edward Bonaventure, which had also briefly returned home in the fall of 1555.41 Before long, word spread throughout Europe. Giovanni Michiel, the Venetian ambassador to England, supplied some gruesome details, reporting that the English mariners told strange stories about the “mode” in which Willoughby’s crew had been discovered. They had, it seems, been frozen alive. Some were “seated in the act of writing, pen still in hand and the paper before them; others at table, platters in hand and spoon in mouth; others opening a locker, and others in various postures, like statues, as if they had been adjusted and placed in those attitudes.” Dogs, too, were found frozen, rock solid.42 When Chancellor learned the tragic news, he sent one of his men to inspect the ships, confirm the findings, and retrieve the valuable merchandise and Willoughby’s precious logbook.*

  The story of this first English business foray into Russia was told by George Killingworth, who was one of the factors named in the royal charter. From Rose Island, Chancellor, Killingworth, and the rest of the English commercial party were soon exposed to the realities of doing business in an environment very different from one they knew in western Europe. To begin with, it was not like Antwerp, a trading city with a commercial infrastructure that enabled an expeditious exchange of goods to and from ships and waterfront warehouses. Their goods had to be off-loaded from the English ships and onto local barges for transport—sailing when there was wind, towed when there wasn’t—to the upriver trading centers, the first of which was Colmogro, now Kholmogori, a journey of some seventy miles. This was a busy commercial outpost, with wooden houses and plenty of drinking, where Russians, Tatars, and other regional merchants came to trade in such commodities as fish and fur. From there, the English party traveled another seven hundred miles farther upriver on to Vologda, a major trading town in western Russia that they reached in mid-September.43

  At Vologda, Killingworth and his fellow merchants did what salesmen have always done in trade fairs and marketplaces—they “laid their wares” out for all to see. One local Muscovite made an offer to buy all of Killingworth’s supply of broadcloths at twelve rubles each. But the Englishman was reluctant to jump at the first deal, not least because he had no basis for evaluating the bid. What was a ruble worth in exchange for an English pound? What—and how much—would other merchants be willing to trade for the prized English cloth? Sebastian Cabot had supplied no ordinance to cover pricing and sales techniques. As a result, Killingworth and his fellow merchants chose to bide their time and “sold very little” in this first sales session.44

  Foreigners were not unknown in the trading cities of Russia.45 Nevertheless, Killingworth struck a particularly memorable figure. As Henry Lane, his friend and fellow factor reported, Killingworth sported a thick, “yellow-colored” beard, “in length five foot and two inches.”46

  Eventually, the Englishmen realized that if they were to establish themselves as traders in Muscovy, they would have to develop a regular presence in the capital city of Moscow, the seat of government, which lay another 550 miles inland from Vologda. Accordingly, Chancellor, Killingworth, and three others left their associates—notably Richard Judde, Sir Andrew’s son—and set off on the journey to Moscow with commodities for sale and a gift of sugar for the tsar. The snow soon became so deep that they had to turn back, abandon their carts, leave behind the sugar, and take to horseback. Continuing on, they passed through market towns along the route to Moscow and got a sense of the products available for trade: plenty of furs—including sable, mink, beaver, and fox—and a variety of other valuable commodities, such as salmon, seal oil, sea salt, feathers, flax, tallow, and hemp.47

  Chancellor’s delegation reached Moscow in early October 1555. Once again, the English were cordially received: the tsar ensured that they were housed near the Kremlin and took the time to dine with them.48 When Killingworth stepped forward to drink a toast, his five-foot beard fell across the tsar’s table. Intrigued, Ivan took the beard in his hand and displayed it to the man sitting with him—Macarius, the Metropolitan of Moscow, the leading figure in the Russian Orthodox Church, considered to be “God’s spiritual officer.”49 Macarius, who himself possessed a fine beard, proclaimed that Killingworth’s was “God’s gift.”50

  During their time in Moscow, the English merchants negotiated trading terms with imperial officials and eventually hammered out a trade agreement. They also came to understand that the capital city, while important for nurturing high-level political relationships, was not a commercial center. Prices were high and few goods were available for trade. So Chancellor and Killingworth determined that Colmogro would be the best place to set up the first English factory. There, goods were plentiful, prices were lower, and Moscow was still within reach.

  In July 1556, Chancellor set sail for England, leaving Killingworth to nurture this embryonic Muscovy trade. His ships, the Philip and Mary, which had returned to Russia once again, and the Edward Bonaventure, were laden with a rich supply of valuable commodities—including wax and tallow, furs and felt—that were reckoned to be worth some £20,000.51 Also, they carried a special Russian guest: Osep Napea, the first Russian ambassador to England, who bore gifts of sable to present to the English monarchs.

  The expedition that had begun with so much promise ended in disaster. On the way home, Chancellor picked up the two long-lost Willoughby ships—the Bona Esperanza and Bona Confidentia. These, however, were soon shipwrecked in treacherous seas. Then, as Chancellor approached home, he suffered a final blow. Putting into Pitsligo Bay, near Aberdeen on the northeast coast of Scotland, the Edward Bonaventure was beset by “outrageous tempests, and extreme storms.” The flagship was ripped from her moorings and driven onto the rocks “where she broke and split in pieces.”52 In a final act of bravery, Chancellor saved the Ambassador Napea from the roiling waters, but sacrificed
his own life in the rescue. One of his sons perished, too. The Edward Bonaventure was wrecked and all the goods lost—most of them not to the sea but to plunder “by the rude and ravenous people of the Country.” Virtually everything of value—including Chancellor’s notes, records, and accounts—was “rifled, spoiled and carried away.”53

  Chancellor had been, as Clement Adams put it, the “great hope” for the company, and he had accomplished much of what they had asked of him—even if he had not found the passage to Cathay. But he lost everything in doing so. Great reward, it seemed, could not be attained without great risk, and success seemed often to arrive riddled with failure.

  For the merchants, however, the shipwreck, though unquestionably a setback, was one from which they could recover. The good news was that Osep Napea was alive, and they dispatched some Muscovy Company officials, including the translator Robert Best, to escort him to London. There the Russian ambassador was feted by the merchants, who dressed up for the occasion, “riding in velvet coats and chains of gold.”54 They paid all his costs during his stay in England.

  Yet, even for the merchants, there was some sadness amid the joy. Muscovy may have come closer to home, but Cathay and the East remained strangely, frustratingly, beyond reach.

  5

  AN ELUSIVE REALM

  ON SATURDAY, JANUARY 14, 1559, a young woman who would transform England’s place in the world was conveyed through the streets of London in a satin-lined litter, attended by four barons and announced by trumpet fanfares. Just twenty-five years old, Elizabeth Tudor progressed slowly, responding to the exultations of enormous cheering crowds. It was, wrote one observer, a “wonderful spectacle” featuring a “noble hearted princess” presenting herself to “her most loving people.”1 The following day—the date that John Dee, her favorite astrologer, had assured was auspicious—Elizabeth was crowned queen of England, Ireland, and France.