The King's Beast

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The King's Beast Page 51

by Eliot Pattison


  By 1769, Franklin, easily one of the most complex and colorful of our founding fathers, had already lived in London for over a decade in his capacity as agent for several colonial legislatures. His experience there in many ways personifies the transformation of the American identity. In his official role, his emphasis gradually shifted from judiciously explaining the efforts of Parliament to the colonies to ardently advocating the views of the colonies to Parliament, a process that caused him to be increasingly shunned by the aristocracy. Throughout these years Franklin clung to the belief that if he could only reach the rational, moderate king, compromises could be reached to avoid bloodshed. In retrospect, this assumption was woefully misplaced, for more than any other aspect of British government action, it was the king’s stubborn resentment that caused the revolution.

  While there is no direct evidence that Franklin engaged in covert activities for the Sons of Liberty, he clearly supported the Sons’ goals, and it seems likely that the patriotic inventor would have quietly offered suggestions to support American manufacturing. With respect to his opposition, however, it is well documented that the British government engaged in its own clandestine activity through such agencies as its Black Chamber. Decades after Franklin’s death, records revealed that during his later tenure as a diplomat in Paris, his longtime confidential secretary was a spy for the British government, who every week deposited copies of Franklin’s documents in a hollow tree for London to read.

  Despite his strained relations with officials, including his own son, Franklin’s insatiable appetite for knowledge of the natural world kept him in good stead with many scholars in London and drove ongoing experimentation at Craven Street. Among his ambitious projects during this period were the first chart of the Gulf Stream current, a three-wheeled clock, his widely celebrated armonica musical instrument, and his new phonetic alphabet. It was during 1769 that Franklin began using this simplified alphabet in correspondence with Polly Stevenson, his landlady’s daughter, with whom Franklin developed a close, decades-long relationship. As portended in these pages, Polly did indeed marry Dr. William Hewson, who in late 1769 was awarded the coveted Copley Medal of the Royal Society for his pioneering work on the lymphatic glands. Hewson’s promising career was cut short in 1774 when he accidentally cut himself while examining a cadaver and died of the resulting septic infection. After the Revolution, Polly moved to Philadelphia and was with Franklin at his deathbed in 1790.

  As the acclaimed father of electricity, Franklin also remained active in research into the nature of electrical energy and the use of lightning rods. His London detractors attacked him, among many other ways, by alleging that Franklin “disobeyed” and embarrassed the king by advocating sharp-tipped rods when the king had installed blunt-tipped rods at his palace. The image of a sharp-tipped rod became one more symbol of independence in America, and another source of disapproval in London by those who insisted the king should lead the advancement of knowledge. Franklin remained a zealous advocate of his lightning rods, or “arrestors,” and no doubt experienced deep frustration over the slow pace of their adoption. The inventor knew with certainty that his arrestors saved buildings and lives, but often he met with stubborn, irrational resistance. Franklin had to endure the destruction of countless buildings and the loss of many lives, the worst tragedy being the 1769 disaster at San Nazaro near Venice, in which a single lightning strike claimed three thousand lives. As reflected in Franklin’s confession at the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral in these pages, I have often wondered how the compassionate inventor would have felt, knowing that if his lessons had been heeded, or his advocacy more vigorous, thousands of souls could have been saved.

  Bethlem Hospital provides another intriguing lens on eighteenth-century society. The hospital, dating to the thirteenth century, had by the time of this novel substantially changed from the site of gothic horror associated with its earlier existence, evolving into a large facility styled like a French palace where techniques of then-modern medicine were applied. Yet there were still many aspects of its treatment of patients that we would consider hideous today, including extensive application of blistering, emetics, and daily immersions in cold water. Doctors were known to practice a “trade in lunacy” and for many decades Bedlam was a public amusement where visitors could pay a penny to view the patients, especially the extreme cases confined to the wards on the top floor.

  The year 1769 poignantly reflects the events, people, and struggles that are transforming both Britain and the American colonies during this revolutionary period. In the west a woodsman named Daniel Boone has reached the Kentucky lands, ironically opening that frontier up to a wave of the settlers he had been trying to leave behind. In Britain, Scottish engineer James Watt has obtained a patent for his new steam machine. John Wilkes, passionate advocate of liberty, has been blocked from taking his seat in the House of Commons, stirring further unrest on both sides of the Atlantic. Protests by colonists are growing louder and more widespread, fueled by the defiant Massachusetts Circular Letter, which has been penned by leaders of the Sons in reaction to the punitive Townshend duties. Legislatures speaking in support of the Letter are being dissolved by royal governors, reflecting the punitive policies of Whitehall. Non-importation pacts are becoming a primary weapon against British tyranny, driven by remarkable grassroots efforts aimed at expanding American production of common goods, often led by women. Mothers and daughters of New England, for example, are organizing classes to teach spinning and weaving, transforming thousands of hearths into venues of protest while generating vast quantities of cloth to substitute for imports. Loyalists are even complaining of pastors who preach “manufacturing” instead of the gospel from their pulpits. By many such measures, 1769 is the year in which colonists find their American voice. The year is also the last year of peaceful resistance in the colonies. The powder keg that is occupied Boston is about to explode.

  ELIOT PATTISON

  © Jed Ferguson

  ELIOT PATTISON is the author of the Inspector Shan series, which includes The Skull Mantra, winner of an Edgar Award and finalist for the Gold Dagger. He is also the author of the five previous titles in the Bone Rattler series, most recently Savage Liberty. Pattison resides in rural Pennsylvania with his wife, son, three horses, and three dogs on a colonial-era farm. Find out more at eliotpattison.com.

 

 

 


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