1615: Duke of Mallard
Private Papers (suppressed)
It behoveth me, in these dark days of England’s reckoning, to confess a matter both grave and pressing—one that sitteth heavy upon my soul and governeth much of my intent. That is the plague of madness which hath taken residence within mine own family, a malady most troublesome, and yet a truth which I may neither deny nor evade.
As Robert Burton hath well expounded in his “Anatomy of Melancholy”, the mind doth lie under many a cruel captivity—fear, sorrow, folly—and indeed madness itself can overwhelm even the strongest constitution. Yet what comfort is there in passion or pity when the very presence of such affliction doth unsettle the house and endanger the name?
It is no Christian love to bind the afflicted to our midst, causing them, ourselves, and our household great disquiet. Truly, the saints command charity and care, but also prudence; for to preserve the health of the whole, some must bear the burden apart.
Herein lieth the wisdom—and the necessity—of consignment: to send forth these troubled kin, mad though they be, unto Lefame in the wilds of New England, where the distant shore may offer peace to their restless minds and safety for our family’s dignity. Though nature hath made them inconvenient, blood binds still, and family is ever better than strangers. Therein shall they labor, their madness turned to productive toil, helping to found a settlement under my own favour and name.
This is no act of cruelty but of strategy profound and Christian care. By their exile, the family’s honour and mine own estate remain untarnished; by their presence in Lefame, a colony is strengthened with those who carry my blood, loyal still in the bonds of kinship. The solitude of the New World doth suit those whose spirits cannot dwell comfortably with the courtly order; there, they may find a measure of peace, and in their labour, usefulness.
Though others may shun or condemn this course, I do know that the estate of a Duke is not lightly managed, nor its reputation entrusted to folly or sentiment alone. I take counsel from scripture and reason alike—to separate the afflicted is to preserve the whole, to care for kin is to command all.
Thus shall I entrust these errant minds to the wilderness, certain that distance will bring order and productivity, and that Lefame shall prosper with the seed of my house, mad or not. This judgement calls for firmness blended with mercy, and I resolve to keep both in steadfast hand.
For what greater folly than to bind a firebrand to the walls of one’s own halls, risking all for the sake of weakness? Far better to plant that flame where it may warm and give light than where it will consume and destroy.
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