New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [100]
“I should hope not,” said John Master.
But it was now that Mercy suddenly spoke.
“It would be a good thing if they did.” The words burst from her almost before she knew she was uttering them, and they were said with vehemence. The men all stared at her in astonishment. “I have seen enough of our English rulers,” she added, more quietly, but with no less feeling.
Ben Franklin looked surprised, but thoughtful. After a short pause, he continued.
“Well, I am of the contrary opinion,” he said. “Indeed, Mrs. Master, I should go further. I believe that in the future, America will be the central foundation of the British Empire. And I shall tell you why. We have the English language, English laws. Unlike the French, we have denied the rule of tyrant kings. And I have high hopes that the young Prince of Wales will be an excellent king when his turn comes. Our government is by no means perfect, but taken all in all, I thank the Lord for British freedoms.”
“I agree with every word,” said John.
“But consider this also,” Franklin went on. “The vast territories of America lie across an ocean; yet what is America if not the western frontier of our freedom-loving empire?” He gazed at them all. There was a light of enthusiasm in his eye. “Did you know, Master, that in America we marry earlier and produce twice as many healthy children as people do in Europe? The population of the American colonies is doubling every twenty years, yet there is enough land to settle for centuries. The farmlands of America will provide an ever-expanding market for British manufacture. Together, Britain and her American colonies may grow, regardless of other nations, for generations. I believe that is our destiny.”
This was Ben Franklin’s prescription. There could be no doubt that he passionately believed it.
“It is a noble vision,” said John.
“Indeed,” and now Franklin grinned, “there is only one thing needed to perfect our English-speaking empire.”
“What’s that?” asked John.
“Kick the French out of Canada and have the whole place to ourselves,” the great man said cheerfully.
He had just spoken these words when a serving maid came into the room with a tray of refreshments. It seemed to be a signal to end the serious part of their conversation, for their host’s mood lightened, as he insisted they all have tea with him before they left.
As they walked back to their lodgings afterward, Master turned to Mercy a little reproachfully.
“I had not known you felt such aversion for the English. I thought you were contented with our visit.”
She felt an instant remorse. She had no wish to bring unhappiness to her dear husband, who tried so hard to please her.
“I scarcely know what came over me,” she said. “I expect Mr. Franklin is right. But the English way of thinking is sometimes hard for me, John, for I am still a Quaker at heart.” And she resolved that, as long as they remained in London, she would do her best to make her husband happy.
Satisfied with this half-truth, John Master asked young James what he thought.
“I think Mr. Franklin is a great man, Father,” he answered.
“You like his views on America’s destiny?”
“Oh yes.”
“So do I.” And as he thought of his son’s liking for London, and the huge possibilities Franklin had outlined for the British Empire, it seemed to John Master that the future looked bright.
That evening as they were eating supper, and they were all in a cheerful mood, Mercy remarked upon something else.
“Did you notice what happened,” she asked, “when the maid was serving tea?”
“I don’t think so,” said John.
“He thought no one saw, but Mr. Franklin patted the girl’s bottom as she passed.”
“The old devil.”
“They say, you know,” she smiled, “that he’s quite incorrigible.”
But if Mercy kept her feelings about the British to herself after that, her sense of displeasure remained, and was heightened just before Christmas.
It seemed that their offer of kindness to Captain Rivers, when they’d met him in Bath, had not been forgotten. For in mid-December they received an invitation