Kristine Vermillion June 15-16, 2013 Finch and Bacon
One of the aspects of utopian literature that
interests me is the role that Millennialism plays in literary and historical
utopias. Joshua Schuetz was interested in
the same subject in his Research post titled “The Role of Religious Imagination
in Utopian Thinking.” Obviously this
aspect is too broad and complicated of a topic to explore within the confines of
this research assignment. To proceed with
my research I find it is imperative to qualify what my interests are exactly.
Millennialism carries with it the burden of eschatological thought,
theological doctrine and end-times speculation.
I am not primarily interested in this aspect of the term. What I am
interested in is the prevalence of literary conventions that originate in the
Biblical texts in the Utopian literature we have read.
The presence of both Genesis and Revelation on the course syllabus
corroborates this idea. The most provocative and prevalent theme (convention)
that appears and reappears constantly is the idea of the Garden of Eden and the
utopian vision of a return to a garden state.
This idealized garden state is pictured in the last chapters of the book
of Revelation in regards to the Millennial Kingdom and the vision of the coming
new heavens and earth. This garden theme
is in More’s Utopia, it is in
Gilman’s Herland, it is an important
aspect of Callenbach’s Ecotopia, and
it is also a prevalent idea in Atwood’s
Oryx and Crake.
Other common elements of the Millennial
writings are worth mentioning, because these are the technical details that make
up utopian communities. Included in the
writings prophesying the messianic kingdom (Isaiah 65:17-25, Micah 4:1-5) are
topics that include children, sickness and disease, enjoyment of labor, freedom
from oppression, communal peace locally, nationally and internationally,
housing, fruitfulness of crops, trees and land and the peacefulness of the
animal kingdom. They deal with the
righteous rule of the people and the quick administration of justice.
Elsewhere, there are references to the character quality of the
inhabitants and even the types of clothing they will wear.
In effect, there is freedom from poverty
and want as the “poor inherit the earth.” All of this worthwhile human endeavor
and achievement are real noteworthy aspirations of human societies, but they are
also deeply religious ideas. These utopias, to borrow the title from one of
Harold Bloom’s books, seem to operate in
The Shadow of a Great Rock, and the rock is the Biblical text.
The parallels are striking, and they are found in both utopias and
dystopias alike. In dystopias, the best
example of this idea in our reading list is Atwood’s character Jimmy, also known
as Snowman, whom we find in the wilderness struggling to survive Crake’s
creations and his Armageddon of judgment on mankind.
So why is the title of this post “Finch and
Bacon?” While perusing the history of the
various literary utopias and tracing the millennial aspects of them, I noticed a
pattern that begs the question: Why was it ok to embed Millennialism into works
of utopic fiction, but dangerous to speak with conviction about associated
Biblical truths and ideas—all the while in supposedly “Christian” nations? I
first came across it while reviewing the history of Sir/Saint Thomas More.
The fact that More lived, worked and wrote during the reign of Henry the
VIII and the upheaval of Martin Luther’s theses is intriguing enough to warrant
inquiry. However, it was the conditions
of his death that brought the pattern I noticed to the forefront.
More’s Utopia contains
scathing critiques of his country and its leaders in every way, yet because it
was a work of literature written as a hypothetical, he wasn’t punished.
However, later on when he stood on religious principle and ideology and
refused to play the game, he was condemned and lost his head.
This to me validates the power of literature, especially when dealing
with utopian and religious ideas. In the
fictive Utopia More could say more
than he could safely say elsewhere.
While reading about Francis Bacon’s work,
New Atlantis, I observed the same
pattern. Bacon, who is commonly known
as the father of modern science, lived a similar life to that of Thomas More.
He was involved in politics and served in various state positions, and he
too wrote a utopian fiction. His utopia
is free from any eschatological millennial content (the preachy kind), yet most
of the elements of the millennial kingdom are dealt with nonetheless.
Bacon’s work was his attempt to show how
his practical application of natural philosophy, i.e. science, could be used to
enhance all aspects of life. His idea was
that this “reinformation would lead to a great advancement in science and a
progeny of new inventions that would relieve mankind’s miseries and needs” and
his aim was “a partial returning of mankind to the state it lived in before the
fall, restoring its dominion over creation, while religion and faith would
partially restore mankind’s original state of innocence and purity” (Wikipedia).
In his article titled
Francis Bacon’s “Jewish Dreams”: The Specter of the Millennium in New Atlantis,
Travis DeCook explores the “radical forms of millenarianism and messianism,
alluded to in New Atlantis, which put
the relationship between God, nature, and earthly political order under new
scrutiny” (115). DeCook explores the very
deep presence of the Jewish texts in Bacon’s work, and how they permeate most
aspects of the “Great Insaturation” that Bacon was imagining through his
fiction. DeCook was interested in “the
way that fiction allowed Bacon latitude to portray a Jewish community and its
beliefs and thereby to draw on various dynamics of Christianity’s relationship
to Judaism in a manner keyed to specific polemical purposes” (118).
DeCook’s thesis is specifically: “In
New Atlantis Bacon invokes Jewish
messianism—a belief with especially dangerous and topical associations during
this time—as a means of distinguishing and legitimizing
his own understanding of a future
prophesied transformation of the social and natural world” (119, emphasis my
own). Bacon obviously had an agenda in
his writings, and his ideas were not free from religious ideas.
In fact, he used millennial ideas and Christian concepts to further his
agenda, but his fiction provided him a safe zone to operate. They were tools of
communicating his ideas not points of a sermon.
He used his fiction to argue that Christianity doesn’t forbid the
investigation into nature, and that science should seek knowledge “not for
pleasure contentions, superiority over others, profit, fame, or power, but for
the benefit and use of life, and that they perfect and govern it in charity”
(Wikipedia). He was a scientist seeking
to use science to alter the conditions of living for the betterment of mankind.
In this respect he is Crake’s intellectual great grandfather.
Bacon’s work was a literature of ideas that he used to provoke the
church and the government in the direction he wanted them to go.
He was a progressive of sorts, and he
apparently was able to evade conflict. It
was probably quite helpful that New
Atlantis wasn’t published until after his death. A contemporary of his,
however, didn’t fare as well. An English lawyer and politician by the name Sir Henry Finch
(1585-1625) seemed to know a lot about millennial ideas and had the gumption to
publish a book in 1621 titled “The World’s Great Resaturation, or Calling of the
Jews, and with them of all Nations and Kingdoms of the Earth to the Faith of
Christ.” The story goes that as a result the king, King James I, branded the
work as libel and had him arrested.
Finch was freed only after “renouncing all portions of his work that might be
construed as derogatory to the sovereign and apologizing for having written
unadvisedly” (Wikipedia). These similar
millennial ideas, not contained within the confines of fiction were deemed
dangerous and unacceptable. This is a
small example that provides evidence for the merit of my question. The best reason that I have found so far that seems to answer
my question is located in an essay by J.C. Davis titled “Formal Utopia /
Informal Millennium: The Struggle between Form and Substance as a Context for
Seventeenth-century Utopianism.” As the
title suggests, Davis reasons that the Utopian fiction was accepted because it
paralleled the forms and formalisms of the society closely enough so that it
wasn’t considered a true hazard to their formalist ways.
On the other hand, Millennial expectation “found human form irrelevant
and brushed it away. Our nature is
transcended and redeemed. But as the
millennium, contemptuous of fleshy contrivance, is antiformalist, informal, so
utopia responds to a world of deficient formality with improved and perfected
form. In utopia, flawed and recalcitrant
substance is constrained, ordered and harmonized by formality” (Davis 21).
If I understand it correctly, the idea
is that utopian contrivances are alright because they are still within the
framework of man working within the formalities of society to fix the problems
of society. The presence of millennialism
in their works is just the result of the conventions of their society and of its
usefulness with its myriad of literary tropes.
The purely religious and ideological millennial teachings operated on a
different plane, one that man can’t control or do anything with.
In this realm, the teachings are a specter that men, in general, want to
avoid, and that kings, in general, do not seem to appreciate.
The conclusion that Davis gives at the end of his essay ends
with the observation that there is a very interesting story to be told about the
historical progression of utopian fiction and the role religious doctrine and
imagination play in it. His concluding
paragraph which I am including below alludes to the reason for my inquiry: the
topsy turvy disparity between the past and the present use of utopian fiction
and millennial tropes and how it happened.
Seventeenth-century English society was
gripped by a tension of an intensity that was unparalleled even in the Europe of
the general crisis.
On the one hand, there was a social consensus on
the value of law and its formalities as a guarantee of freedom and as a
protection from the arbitrary, the willful and the tyrannical.
On the other hand, society was infused with a
desire to submit, in an apocalyptic moment, to the unknown, apparently
inconstant and arbitrary will of a God whose service required the casting aside
of fleshly formalities and carnal institutions.
Between utopian formality and millennial
informality there could be no compromise.
There is a story to be told, a history to be
written, of how we have travelled from that epic conflict to a situation in
which we despise formality but have no God; in which we seek liberty but are
suspicious of law; in which we demand protection but distrust authority; in
which we see utopia as a disposable vehicle of protest, but fear apocalypse, if
not the millennium.
There is a story to be told… (Davis 32). With that concluding remark, I am left
with the general conclusion that I keep coming to over and over again: the power
of a good story is immeasurable.
A work of literature can go places sermons and
lectures could never go—providing a space for interaction that might otherwise
be completely unattainable. Works Cited Davis, J.C. “Formal Utopia/Informal Millennium.” Utopias and the Millennium. Reaktion Books. London, 1993. 17-32. DeCook, Travis. “Francis Bacon’s ‘Jewish
Dreams’: The Specter of the Millennium in New Atlantis.”
Studies in Philology. Vol.
110, Number 1, Winter 2013, pp. 115-131. Univ. North Carolina Press,
2013. 115-131. “Henry Finch.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia
Foundation, Inc. 27 April 2013. 13 June 2013.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Finch “Francis Bacon.”
Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia
Foundation, Inc. 14 June 2013. 14 June 2013.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_Bacon Schuetz, Joshua. “The Role of Religious
Imagination in Utopian Thinking.”
Literary and Historical Utopias
Website for Dr. Craig White.
http://coursesite.uhcl.edu/HSH/Whitec/LITR/5439utopia/models/resposts/2009/
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