Frances Hunter

blog of the author To the Ends of the Earth

 

Frances Hunter's Journal
March 2007

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March 29, 2007: The Most Famous Man in America

You could tap 100 Americans today and be hard-pressed to find one who knew much about Henry Ward Beecher. Some might make the connection to his sister, Harriet Beecher Stowe, herself but a distant memory from high school history class. A few might recognize him as the author of some aphorisms seen on Internet signature lines. But at one time, as the title of Debby Applegate's new biography tells us, Henry Ward Beecher was The Most Famous Man in America.

Applegate's book opens up the life of this enormously famous evangelist and restores him to his proper place in American history. Born in 1813, Beecher was one of the youngest in an enormous family sired by Lyman Beecher, himself the most well-known American preacher of his day. A ferocious Calvinist, Lyman rained down fire and brimstone on his congregations. He also raised his sons and daughters to be God-fearing, learned, and possessed of an overwhelming sense of social obligation. All the boys became ministers and most of the sisters were famous activists in the abolition and women's rights movements.

But Lyman's kids had a troubled relationship with God. They just couldn't reconcile a wrathful, vengeful God with their dad's personal example of kindliness and compassion. Not a single one of the Beechers stuck with the Calvinist teachings of Lyman. In fact, two of the boys were so tormented by their self-perceived failures that they committed suicide.

Henry took a different path. A mischievous underachiever as a boy, he entered the ministry with no particular expecations of success. But as he grew into the role, he hit upon a new style of preaching that threw out the old hellfire and damnation (he would eventually repudiate hell altogether), and emphasized the unconditional and forgiving love of Jesus Christ.

Warm, dramatic, and humorous, Henry became a spellbinding orator. From his first job at a remote Western outpost, he moved up in the world until in 1847 he became the pastor of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. From this pulpit, Beecher became the most famous religious leader in the history of the young United States.

His take on Christianity (surprisingly modern, even "New-Agey") drew huge crowds to the church, which soon built a giant theater-style sanctuary to showcase Beecher's performances. Equally compelling were his moral crusades, especially his denunciations of slavery and his emotional stunts such as inviting slave owners to auction off slaves at Plymouth Church itself, where the congregation would bid on them and then set them free.

When the Civil War came, the struggle became so bloody and unpopular that there was a real danger of a public demand for a negotiated settlement that would have left slavery in place. Abraham Lincoln credited Beecher with rallying public opinion to continue the fight. Beecher was widely acknowledged as the key figure in elevating the war into a moral crusade; he was chosen to give the address at the emotional ceremony in which the American flag was once again raised over Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor.

One of the most interesting sections of the book to me was the discussion of how Beecher's philosophy led him to advocate mercy for the South after the war. As Applegate writes, "Henry genuinely believed that sin was itself a form of suffering, making further punishment cruel and unusual." Henry also believed that the amount of military brute force that would be required to make the South implement social equality for blacks would be so extreme that it would corrupt the United States. He warned against authoritarianism and the evils of concentrating more power in Washington.

Unfortunately for Beecher, the Civil War marked the high point of his career. Deprived of the great cause, he seemed to stray more and more into selfishness and self-deception. Always a ladies' man and unfaithful husband, he now pursued foolish risks. Inevitably, he was caught.

It is impossible not to think of Bill Clinton when reading the sordid tale of Beecher's fall from grace. The two were similiar in personality and even had a slight resemblance physically, and both seemed to have a blind spot when it came to analyzing the consequences of their own behavior. In Beecher's case, he weathered a sensational scandal and continued as pastor of Plymouth Church. But his reputation was never the same. Those who didn't denounce him as a libertine were forced to acknowledge that he had behaved like an idiot.

Applegate raises an interesting question about whether Beecher's fall was an inevitable result of his "God is Love" philosophy when taken to extremes. If God sees all and forgives all, then why exercise any restraint on one's own character or conduct?

I enjoyed and learned a lot from The Most Famous Man in America, with one exception. When you read history, you have to feel that you're in good hands and that the author is steering you right. After all, you probably don't know much about the subject; that's why you're reading the book. That's why I was astonished, in the one area of the book I did know something about, to find a pretty egregious historical error.

It was in the section that discussed the annexation of Texas. Applegate breezes through this section describing how the United States made a blatant land grab of part of Mexico -- thus erasing the entire period of American colonization of Texas, the Texas Revolution, and the 9-year existence of the Republic of Texas, an internationally recognized independent nation. I have to admit that I felt uneasy for the rest of the book. Applegate's knowledge of Beecher is impeccable, but I have to wonder about her grasp of the larger times in which he lived.

With that rather dismaying caveat, I still recommend The Most Famous Man in America as a great read about a flawed and fascinating man who so successfully advocated his radical views that they became as American as apple pie.

March 22, 2007: Adding Emotional Depth to A Story

For a story to be special and touch people's hearts, it has to have an elusive quality called emotional depth. Without this quality, it can still be a fine entertainment (think "Casino Royale"), but it isn't likely to make the viewer laugh, cry, or think (think "To Kill a Mockingbird").

With our story about the mysterious last days of Meriwether Lewis, we wanted to tell the story of what would have happened if William Clark had tried to find out the truth behind Lewis's sad fate. Once we began to uncover the various layers of the mystery, we looked for ways to add emotional realism and honesty to the story. Needless to say, these have to come organically from the story and from the heart. They can't simply be grafted on.

We found that these moments came from the truths that were revealed to Clark along the way, though the various struggles, conflicts, and emotional connections he made. Such as:

- Clark realizes his best friend Lewis is troubled in ways he
never imagined. Clark thinks he and Lewis have no secrets from one another, but he learns different, and he has to reconcile the man he thought he knew with the tormented soul he finds in Lewis' journal.

- Clark is disturbed and angered by the deterioration of his
relationship with his manservant, York, and has to confront his own feelings about York's claims for freedom, and when York makes the choice to be loyal despite Clark's own bad treatment of York.

- Clark discovers the depth of love and loyalty that exists between him and his wife, and how badly he wants to live out his life with Julia and their children. Clark is still learning what love is all about.

- Clark has to face up to his own mortality as well as Lewis's.

- Clark has to face up to being wrong about many things.

- Clark has to accept the task of taking charge of the journals
(the last remnant of his best friend) because if he doesn't, the story of this great adventure they shared together will be lost, and Lewis might as well never have lived.

On our current works-in-progress, we have thought up some good characters, action, and dialogue, but we're still working on adding these emotional dilemmas and opportunities for growth that would make the story truly gratifying for us to write and for you to read!

March 15, 2007: Did Lewis Have Syphilis?

Meriwether Lewis had a lot of problems after returning in triumph from the Expedition. Among these was a serious illness, the exact nature of which is still unclear. Many people think it was malaria, the ubiquitous frontier "ague" that brought on bone-shaking chills, fatigue, and severe bone and joint pain.

Other scholars, particularly Reimert Ravenholt and Thomas Lowry, believe that Lewis became ill from the effects of advanced syphilis, contracted from the Indians during the Expedition. In fact, Richard Wheeler wrote an interesting historical novel called Eclipse based on this theory.

I have my doubts. It's well documented in the journals that members of the Corps of Discovery contracted syphilis along the way, and Lewis does record that he had skin eruptions not long after the Corps stayed with the Shoshone. But then again, Lewis and Clark were always recording having dreadful rashes and sores from some cause or other. There's really no particular reason to think that Lewis's were venereal in nature, rather than, say, the effects of walking thirty miles a day in sweaty leather pants.

But supposing Lewis did have a little fun with a Shoshone woman, is it credible that he would have had a raging case of late-stage syphilis only five years later? Again I feel dubious. While a short course of the disease is not unheard of, syphilis is more well-known for having a long progression. After the initial lesions and rash heal after a few months, it often lies dormant for years -- 10 to 20 or so. And even then, only a small percentage of people develop the horrific late symptoms.

If Lewis did have syphilis, he would have treated himself for the disease with mercury, which could be quite effective if it didn't kill you first. Lewis and Clark carried both mercury pills and ointments on the Expedition, and treated the men who came down with syphilis with a topical application of ointment over several weeks. The treatment was followed until a "salivation" began, usually accompanied by loose teeth. Back then, they thought that this meant that the body was expelling the disease. Now we know that it is a sign of mercury poisoning.

During our research, we came to our own conclusions about Lewis and syphilis, which we include in a scene in the novel (Chapter 13 if you care to check it out).

If the medical aspects of the Lewis and Clark Expedition sound interesting to you, I urge you to check out the fascinating and fun-to-read Or Perish in the Attempt, by David J. Peck. This is one of my favorite books in the Lewis and Clark literature.

While I was researching this post, I wanted to talk a bit about Randolph Churchill, the father of Winston Churchill, who famously died of late-state syphilis at the age of 45. Instead I found a great article at the Churchill Center that documents that he probably didn't after all.

Lord Randolph Churchill: Maladies et Mort

March 9, 2007: Cool Homicide Photos

If you believe that Meriwether Lewis committed suicide, you have to concede that he botched it. No one claimed to have actually witnessed the shooting, but Mrs. Priscilla Grinder, the innkeeper at the primitive stand on the Natchez Trace where Lewis was staying, recounted that Lewis lived for hours after shooting himself. According to Mrs. Grinder, Lewis staggered around in the dark for hours, even occasionally battering at her door to ask for water, before finally collapsing in his cabin. When his servant Pernia discovered him, he was wounded in the side and the head, and part of the brain was actually exposed. Lewis was still alive and able to converse for a short time before finally expiring shortly after sunrise.

If Lewis was looking for a quick and painless exit from this world, he certainly didn't get it. Besides the heartbreaking aspects, you can see why a lot of people over the years have had problems with this story. How could Lewis, who was an expert with firearms, have inflicted not one but two grievous wounds on himself yet failed to end his own life?

No one can say where the truth lies in Lewis's case, but I do know that it is entirely possible for a suicide attempt to go badly awry as Lewis's apparently did. A few years back, we took an extensive, weeks-long class from the Austin Police Department called the Citizen's Police Academy. The class met weekly for about 12 weeks. For 3+ hours each meeting, we heard speakers and saw demonstrations from virtually every division of the police department, from burglary to forensics to canine to bomb squad. If you have anything like this in your community, I certainly urge you to check it out. It was one of the most worthwhile things I've ever done.

One evening, we heard from a veteran homicide detective who described his work, technique, and notable cases in some detail. He spoke with painful earnestness and sincerity, and illustrated his talk with grisly photos of crime scenes. A man both world-weary and intense, he seemed driven to try to make us understand what a homicide detective faces in trying to obtain justice for silent victims.

One of the cases began with a young man who came home late one night to his apartment. He could hear thumps and moans from his buddy's room down the hall. Smiling, he turned in for the night, assuming that his buddy had gotten lucky and was having a good time with a girlfriend.

In the morning, all was quiet. But when his buddy failed to emerge from his room, the young man got worried and went to check on him.

As the detective's photo's illustrated, what he found was a scene of unbelievable horror. Sometime while the young man had been out, his buddy had shot himself in the head. But bullets and guns do not always behave the way we might expect. Instead of killing himself instantly as he had expected, he instead inflicted horrible damage to his face and head, but failed to penetrate the brain. The thumps and moans the friend had heard were his buddy crashing around the room for hours in agonizing pain before he finally died of his wounds.

I was educated but sad and dismayed after the detective finished his presentation. Afterwards, I asked one of my classmates what he thought about the stories and photos we'd just seen. He grinned and said, "Cool!"

So it goes. For me, the more I learn about police work, or current events, or history, the less suitable they seem for light entertainment, and the more they seem worthy of being treated with thoughtfulness and care. For some, death will always be another show staged for the amusement of the living.

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