11 Feb 2011
The Harrisons and the bulk of the Commissioners of Longitude may have ended up conflicting so much by the 1760s and 1770s because they held a number of different social, legal and economic viewpoints. Some of these can be attributed to the general confusion that existed in Georgian Britain about 'state' and 'private' ownership and rights when it came to 'scientific' and intellectual works that had received state sponsorship. For example, the Commissioners and the Royal Society engaged in social and legal battle with the family of James Bradley (seen below) and later with the Oxford University Press for 36 years after the death of that Astronomer Royal, over the ownership and printing of the astronomical observations that Bradley had made at Greenwich. The officials believed that the state owned the papers, since the astronomer was employed by and made the observations at an observatory founded by King Charles II in 1675 and funded (albeit somewhat poorly) by the Board of Ordnance. Bradley's relatives, on the other hand, believed that he and thus they owned the papers and at least deserved a sizeable monetary reward if they turned them over to the Royal Society.
The Commissioners essentially claimed a degree of ownership over Harrison's timekeepers as well, because they had funded their development and testing and thought that the clockmaker was required to prove their use to the nation before getting the ultimate reward. On the other hand, the clockmaker believed them entirely his property - as most early modern craftsmen and inventors probably would have -- and sufficient in their own right to win the reward. The relationships between issues and bodies of state and more 'commercial' concerns were fluid during this period, and the barriers between them highly permeable or at times nonexistent. This could encourage advancements in areas such as technology, but could also prove problematic in the absence of clearly established precedents for reconciling the two interests.
I suspect that the Harrisons and the Commissioners had broadly different perspectives in other ways as well, which may have further aggravated the misunderstandings and later ill will between them. The clockmakers clearly dedicated much of their lives year-round to the development of, and the seeking of recognition and reward for, John's marine timekeepers. There were of course a number of Commissioners of Longitude who served in that position for years, and Maskelyne in particular dedicated much of his time to activities related to his being a Commissioner. However, the Commissioners at large would have still had more of a part-time and institutional view of events than did the clockmakers.
After the initial Act of 1714, which also named some specific individuals, officials and professors became Commissioners by virtue of their other 'full-time' positions. From 1737 onwards, boards of longitude sometimes failed to meet at all in a year, and were later only required to meet on a few separate days unless it was judged necessary to schedule more meetings. Maskelyne was an unusual case, and many of the Commissioners would not have done much or perhaps even thought much about issues related to the board in between meetings. The Harrisons would have naturally approached board meetings, especially as the decades passed, with a more pressing concern and with a greater sense of the passage of time (and the aging of John) than would have most of the officials with whom they dealt. The former wanted immediate action, whereas the Commissioners represented a governmental body and sought to apply a legal and bureaucratic framework to their decisions and actions. The officials were also involved in considering and sometimes encouraging more than just one proposal for finding the longitude at a time, and soon became involved in other activities related to navigation such as producing and encouraging related publications.
Perhaps the Harrisons were further encouraged in thinking that the bulk of the Commissioners were plotting against them simply because of the way in which early modern British society worked. At all socio-economic levels and in all trades and pursuits, interpersonal relationships and networking played an even greater role than we tend to think they do today. For example, my previous research on 'scientific' instrument makers and sellers in early modern London showed how common it was for almost all aspects of a trade member's business - from simply finding a person to transport an item of stock, to the momentous establishment of a first shop or the choosing of a partner or apprentice -- to be guided by the wide variety of people whom he knew. These often included not only fellow instrument makers and livery company members but also members of interrelated trades and interest groups, blood and marital relatives, religious friends, neighbours, and so on. In the case of trade members who were London-born, these contacts were often spread across the provinces or abroad as well as in the metropolis.
In this sort of milieu, it was the norm rather than the mark of an invidious 'old boy society' for the Commissioners to have their activities, such as the choice of observers for the different sea trials, strongly influenced by interpersonal connections and greased by social and well as 'professional' interactions. The world was a smaller place at that time, and concepts of relationships and 'professionalism' rather different. John Harrison of course benefitted from some similar ties over the course of his career, with established individuals including well-known instrument makers, Commissioners and public figures such as James Short, George Graham, Edmond Halley, John Cust, John Bevis, and Taylor White of the Foundlings Hospital encouraging him and representing his case to the public and to the government.
However, one can see how the Harrisons - increasingly paranoid and defensive as the years passed, although perhaps for some valid reasons - might have perceived such interactions and interconnections betwixt many of the Commissioners and associated individuals as ominous towards their cause. After a board meeting in 1764, William Harrison wrote to his father-in-law that they were newly optimistic about obtaining the longitude reward, in part because of the recent death of the Astronomer Royal Nathaniel Bliss, who had been one of the many individuals also interested in the lunar-distance method: 'They were all as agreeable as could be, Parsons [i.e. professors] and all, as they have now lost their ringleader.' This problem of perception may have applied even more so to the case of Nevil Maskelyne, who was apparently quite amiable and maintained many friends across the learned and intellectual spheres - even those with whom he conflicted on a professional level, such as Joseph Banks, the divisive president of the Royal Society.
To read about additional reasons why the Harrisons may have considered Nevil Maskelyne their arch nemesis, see the final part of 'Rehabilitating Nevil Maskelyne' tomorrow: 'The Harrisons' issues with Maskelyne, and Conclusions'.
Picture credits: Portrait of James Bradley, Wikimedia Commons.