_Q._ "Would the colonists prefer to forego the collection of debts by
legal process rather than use stamped paper?"
_A._ "I can only judge what other people will think and how they will
act by what I feel within myself. I have a great many debts due to me
in America, and I had rather they should remain unrecoverable by any
law than submit to the Stamp Act. They will be debts of honor."
The examination was a complete success; not even the Tories could
object to it, and to Burke it seemed like the examination of a master
by a parcel of schoolboys. A few days later the repeal was carried.
But the relief was only temporary, and Parliament soon returned to its
high-handed measures of repression. One day in the midst of the contest
Franklin was talking with a friendly member of Parliament and
inveighing against the violence of the government towards Boston. The
Englishman replied that these measures of repression did not originate
in England, and to prove his assertion placed in Franklin's hands a
packet of letters written by Hutchinson, governor of Massachusetts, and
others to a member of Parliament with the intention of reaching the
ears of Lord Grenville. These letters, written by native-born
Americans, advised the quartering of troops on Boston, advocated the
making of judges and governors dependent on England for their salaries,
and were full of such sentiments as that "there must be an abridgment
of what are called English liberties." Franklin by permission sent them
to Boston, where they naturally raised a furor of indignation. A
petition was immediately sent over to have Governor Hutchinson removed
from office, but for a while government took no action. After a time
the letters got into the London newspapers with the most deplorable
result. One Thomas Whately, brother of the gentleman to whom they had
been addressed, was accused of purloining the letters and sending them
to America. This caused a duel, and a second duel was about to be
fought when Franklin published a note in the "Public Advertiser"
avowing that the letters had not passed through Mr. Whately's hands,
that he himself was responsible for sending them to Boston, and that no
blame could be attached to the action as the letters were really of a
public nature. The Tories now saw their opportunity to attack Franklin.
The petition for removing Hutchinson was taken up by the Committee for
Plantation Affairs, and Franklin was summoned to appear before them.
Wedderburn, the king's solicitor-general, was there to speak for
Hutchinson, and Franklin, having no counsel, had the proceedings
delayed for three weeks.
On the appointed day the Council met in a building called the Cockpit,
and Franklin appeared before them. The room was furnished with a long
table down the middle, at which the lords sat. At one end of the room
was a fireplace, and in a recess at one side of the chimney Franklin
stood during the whole meeting. His advocates spoke, but without much
effect, and the defense of Hutchinson was then taken up by Wedderburn.
But instead of arguing the point at issue, Wedderburn made it the
occasion for delivering, much to the delight of the Tory lords present,
a long and utterly unjustified tirade against Franklin. With thunderous
voice and violent beating of his fist on the cushion before him, he
denounced Franklin as the "prime mover of this whole contrivance
against his majesty's two governors." Although the letters had been
given to Franklin for the express purpose of having them conveyed to
America, Wedderburn accused him of base treachery; turning to the
committee he said: "I hope, my Lords, you will mark and brand the man,
for the honor of this country, of Europe, and of mankind. Private
correspondence has hitherto been held sacred, in times of the greatest
party rage, not only in politics but religion." "He has forfeited all
the respect of societies and of men. Into what companies will he
hereafter go with an unembarrassed face, or the honest intrepidity of
virtue? Men will watch him with a jealous eye; they will hide their
papers from him, and lock up their escritoirs. He will henceforth
esteem it a libel to be called _a man of letters_; _homo TRIUM
litterarum_ (i.e., _fur_, thief)!" "But he not only took away the
letters from one brother; but kept himself concealed till he nearly
occasioned the murder of the other. It is impossible to read his
account, expressive of the coolest and most deliberate malice, without
horror." "Amidst these tragical events, of one person nearly murdered,
of another answerable for the issue, of a worthy governor hurt in his
dearest interests, the fate of America in suspense; here is a man, who,
with the utmost insensibility of remorse, stands up and avows himself
the author of all. I can compare it only to Zanga, in Dr. Young's
"Revenge";--
"'Know then 'twas--I;
I forged the letter, I disposed the picture;
I hated, I despised, and I destroy.'
I ask, my Lords, whether the revengeful temper attributed, by poetic
fiction only, to the bloody African is not surpassed by the coolness
and apathy of the wily American?"
The picture of Franklin standing unmoved under this torrent of abuse
is, I think, the most dramatic incident of his life. It was a victory
of glorious endurance; it was the crown of unmerited infamy which was
needed to give depth of interest to his successful career. An
eyewitness thus described the scene: "Dr. Franklin's face was directed
towards me, and I had a full, uninterrupted view of it, and his person,
during the whole time in which Mr. Wedderburn spoke. The Doctor was
dressed in a full dress suit of spotted Manchester velvet, and stood
_conspicuously erect_ without the smallest movement of any part of his
body. The muscles of his face had been previously composed, so as to
afford a placid, tranquil expression of countenance, and he did not
suffer the slightest alteration of it to appear during the continuance
of the speech, in which he was so harshly and improperly treated. In
short, to quote the words which he employed concerning himself on
another occasion, he kept his 'countenance as immovable as if his
features had been made of _wood_.'"
Fortunately, to sustain him in these trials, Franklin had a cheerful
home and the society of the best men in England. He was living at the
old house on Craven Street, where Mrs. Stevenson did all in her power
to make him forget that he was an exile. Indeed, were it not that Mrs.
Franklin had an unconquerable dread of crossing the water, it is quite
possible that our philosopher might have carried his family to England
and lived permanently among his new friends; and in estimating the
services of Franklin to America we should never forget to give due
credit to his loyal wife who stayed quietly at home, managing his
affairs for him in Philadelphia and keeping warm his attachment for his
adopted city. Besides the eminent statesmen, such as Pitt and Burke,
with whom Franklin's business brought him naturally in contact, he
associated much with liberal clergymen,--with Priestley particularly,
the discoverer of oxygen, and with the family of the good Bishop of St.
Asaph's, at whose house he had almost a second home. To one of the
bishop's daughters he sent the inimitable epitaph on the squirrel Mungo
which he had given her as a present from America. The influence for
good is almost incalculable which Franklin thus exercised by the noble
type of American character he displayed to the liberal party in
England.
Nor did he ever lose an opportunity to accomplish what he could with
the pen. At one time, to lay bare the suicidal policy of the
government, he published in a newspaper a satirical squib quite in the
vein of Dean Swift, entitled "Rules for reducing a Great Empire to a
Small One." The opening sentences were as follows: "An ancient sage
valued himself upon this, that, though he could not fiddle, he knew how
to make a great city of a little one. The science that I, a modern
simpleton, am about to communicate, is the very reverse;" and with this
introduction the author proceeds to give a detailed account of the
treatment of the colonies by Parliament.
In another paper Franklin reduced certain arguments of the ministry to
the absurd. This was a pretended "Edict of the King of Prussia," in
which Frederick was supposed to announce the same sovereignty over
England, which had been originally settled by Germans, as Parliament
now claimed over America. Speaking of these two papers Franklin says,
in a letter to his son: "I sent you one of the first, but could not get
enough of the second to spare you one, though my clerk went the next
morning to the printer's, and wherever they were sold.... I am not
suspected as the author, except by one or two friends; and have heard
the latter spoken of in the highest terms, as the keenest and severest
piece that has appeared here a long time. Lord Mansfield, I hear, said
of it, that it _was very ABLE and very ARTFUL indeed_; and would do
mischief by giving here a bad impression of the measures of government;
and in the colonies, by encouraging them in their contumacy.... What
made it the more noticed here was, that people in reading it were, as
the phrase is, _taken in_, till they had got half through it, and
imagined it a real edict, to which mistake I suppose the King of
Prussia's _character_ must have contributed. I was down at Lord Le
Despencer's, when the post brought that day's papers. Mr. Whitehead was
there, too (Paul Whitehead, the author of "Manners"), who runs early
through all the papers, and tells the company what he finds remarkable.
He had them in another room, and we were chatting in the breakfast
parlor, when he came running in to us, out of breath, with the paper in
his hand. 'Here!' says he, 'here's news for ye! Here's the King of
Prussia, claiming a right to this kingdom!' All stared, and I as much
as anybody; and he went on to read it. When he had read two or three
paragraphs, a gentleman present said, 'Damn his impudence, I dare say
we shall hear by next post, that he is upon his march with one hundred
thousand men to back this.' Whitehead, who is very shrewd, soon after
began to smoke it, and looking in my face, said, 'I'll be hanged if
this is not some of your American jokes upon us.' The reading went on,
and ended with abundance of laughing, and a general verdict that it was
a fair hit."
After the Privy Council outrage there was very little for Franklin to
do. Lord Chatham consulted with him before introducing in Parliament a
liberal bill for conciliating the colonies, and Franklin himself was
present in the House of Lords when the old statesman, despite the
protests of his gout, plead for fairer measures. It may very well be
that if these troubles had occurred in Chatham's vigorous days he might
have been able to preserve the integrity of the empire. But now he was
crippled by the gout and debarred from active life; and in the
interesting "Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout" the philosopher
might have retorted upon that exacting lady the mischief she had done
his people by laming Pitt. Again Franklin had to stand the bitter
denunciation of the Tories, while Lord Sandwich held him up as "one of
the bitterest and most mischievous enemies this country had ever
known;" but he also had the satisfaction of hearing a noble eulogy of
his character pronounced by the great Chatham.
Then, after a good deal of secret negotiation with Lord Howe, Franklin
reluctantly abandoned the situation and turned homeward. His last day
in London was passed with Dr. Priestley, who has left an interesting
record of their conversation. He says of Franklin that "the unity of
the British empire in all its parts was a favorite idea of his. He used
to compare it to a beautiful china vase, which, if ever broken, could
never be put together again; and so great an admirer was he of the
British constitution that he said he saw no inconvenience from its
being extended over a great part of the globe. With these sentiments he
left England."
VI
MEMBER OF CONGRESS AND ENVOY TO FRANCE
Franklin reached Philadelphia May 5, 1775; and what a home-coming it
was! His wife had died, and he was now to live with his daughter Mrs.
Bache. The battle of Lexington had been fought while he was at sea, and
the whole country was in a ferment of excitement. It was in regard to
this battle, it may be remembered, that he uttered one of his famous
witticisms. To a critic who accused the Americans of cowardice for
firing from behind stone walls, he replied: "I beg to inquire if those
same walls had not two sides to them?"
He received the most honorable welcome home, and on the very morning
after his arrival was unanimously chosen one of the Pennsylvania
delegates to the Continental Congress about to meet in Philadelphia.
Our philosopher, now seventy years old, had come home to rest, but
found himself instead in the very vortex of public affairs. He was a
member of the Pennsylvania Committee of Safety and a burgess in the
Assembly, but later he gave himself entirely to Congress. Afterwards
when in Paris he declared that he used to work twelve hours out of the
twenty-four on public business. His part in Congress was one of
conciliation between conflicting interests,--a role he was admirably
adapted to fill. Very early he proposed, as he had done at Albany, a
union of the thirteen colonies, but the times were not yet ripe for
such a measure.
Of the great act of this Congress, the Declaration of Independence,
Franklin's share was small, as might be inferred from the nature of the
man. He did indeed serve with Jefferson and three others on the
committee appointed to draft this document, but, as every one knows,
the actual writing of the Declaration was the work of Jefferson.
Franklin is chiefly remembered for one or two witticisms in connection
with the affair. "We must be unanimous," said Hancock, when it came to
signing the document, "there must be no pulling different ways; we must
all hang together." "Yes," replied Franklin, "we must, indeed, all hang
together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately."
Over Franklin's manifold occupations we may now pass rapidly, for,
though he was connected with almost every prominent transaction of the
times, yet he was not a true leader of the revolutionary movement. He
was easily the most illustrious man in America, and, since the death of
Jonathan Edwards, the most intellectual; but his mind was inquisitive
and contemplative rather than aggressive, and rougher hands were now
needed at the helm. He acted as postmaster for the colonies, and served
on many committees. So, for instance, he went with John Adams and
Edward Rutledge to confer with Lord Howe on Staten Island. The embassy,
however, came to nothing, as Lord Howe utterly refused to treat with
them as envoys of a Congress whose existence he could not acknowledge.
It was too late for negotiations. And now we are to see Franklin in a
new part.
Of the great leaders of the Revolution each had his peculiar task.
There was Samuel Adams in Boston, the herald of division and battle,
whose office it was to make clear the mind of the country and to stir
up in the people the proper enthusiasm; there was Thomas Jefferson,
imbued with French eighteenth-century notions of the rights of man,
incapable perhaps of distinguishing between theory and fact, but for
that very reason suited to formulate the national Declaration of
Independence, a document not rigorously true in philosophy but
inimitable as the battle cry of freedom and progress; there was
Washington, whose military genius, indomitable will, and noble solidity
of character were able to carry the war through to the end; and there
was Franklin, too cool-headed ever to have inflamed the hearts of the
people with the inspiration of hope and revenge, incapable of uttering
political platitudes which could express tersely the national feeling,
a lover of peace and without the grim determination of a soldier, but
still able in his own way to serve the state more effectually perhaps
than any other man except the great Captain himself. It was absolutely
necessary, both for actual help in money and arms and for moral
support, that the young nation should receive recognition abroad. To
win this recognition was just the task of Franklin. Already he was
known personally to many of the leading spirits of England and the
Continent. The respect and friendship felt for him by Burke, Fox, Lord
Shelburne, Lord Rockingham, did much to augment the power of the
opposition in England, and on the Continent the high reputation of
Franklin as a philosopher and statesman contributed largely to the
general confidence in the ultimate success of the rebellion.
The first really important communication from Europe came to Congress
through Dr. Dubourg, of Paris, who wrote a long letter to Franklin,
addressing him as "My dear Master," and assuring him of the sympathies
of France. Congress hereupon appointed Franklin, Silas Deane, and
Arthur Lee commissioners to Paris, the two last being already in
Europe.
Before departing Franklin got together what money he could, "between
three and four thousand pounds," and lent it to Congress; he then
sailed with his two grandsons, William Temple Franklin and Benjamin
Franklin Bache, reaching Paris December 21, 1776. Considering the
dangers and hardships of the voyage this was no light undertaking for a
man of his age, and he was in fact physically exhausted when he arrived
on the other side.
Franklin came now to reap the fruits of a long and well spent life. His
personal fame aided him in a land where philosophers had become the
fashion of the day, and as the representative of a people struggling
for liberty he was peculiarly dear to the French, who were themselves
speculating on such matters and preparing for their own revolution. It
is of course easy to exaggerate the influence of sentiment in the case.
France was glad to encourage America because the loss of the colonies
would weaken the British Empire, and that was natural; but it is, I
think, a mistake not to acknowledge the generous sentiments of the
people and even of the grandees of the land. Voltaire and Rousseau had
not been preaching in vain; the American Declaration of Independence
was quite in the drift of French political ideas. But to awaken trust
in a people who dwelt in a far-off wilderness and who were commonly
esteemed little better than savages, the presence of such a man as
Franklin was of incalculable value.
After a brief interval M. de Chaumont, one of the wealthy Frenchmen of
the day, offered Franklin rooms at Passy in his Hotel de Valentinois,
and there our philosopher fixed his abode, living in some style, and
spending perhaps about thirteen thousand dollars a year. His popularity
was immediate and almost unexampled. The great people of
France--philosophers, statesmen, titled noblemen, and fine
ladies--thought it an honor to receive the famous American; and it is
said that so great was his fame among the common people that the
shopkeepers would run to their doors to see him pass down the street.
Innumerable pictures were drawn and medallions cut of his figure,
until, as he wrote, his countenance was made "as well known as that of
the moon, so that he durst not do anything that would oblige him to run
away, as his phiz would discover him wherever he should venture to show
it." Parton quotes this interesting account of the commissioners from
the Memoirs of Count Sigur: "Nothing could be more striking than ...
the almost rustic apparel, the plain but firm demeanor, the free and
direct language, of the envoys, whose antique simplicity of dress and
appearance seemed to have introduced within our walls, in the midst of
the effeminate and servile refinement of the eighteenth century, some
sages contemporary with Plato, or republicans of the age of Cato and of
Fabius. This unexpected apparition produced upon us a greater effect in
consequence of its novelty, and of its occurring precisely at the
period when literature and philosophy had circulated amongst us an
unusual desire for reforms, a disposition to encourage innovations, and
the seeds of an ardent attachment to liberty."
But life was not all roseate for Franklin; he and the other envoys had
plenty of work to do. Among other things an endless number of foreign
officers applied to Franklin for commissions in the American army. Some
of these applicants--such as Lafayette and Steuben--were heartily
welcome, and really aided the cause; but he was beset by innumerable
others who would have been merely a burden on the army. For men of this
stamp he drew up and actually used more than once a blank
recommendation beginning with these ominous words: "The bearer of this,
who is going to America, presses me to give him a letter of
recommendation, though I know nothing of him, not even his name. This
may seem extraordinary, but I assure you it is not uncommon here," etc.
He was also kept busy managing the affairs of the small but active
navy, which was largely fitted out in France, and which brought most of
its prizes into French ports. But of all his labors the most difficult
and the most important was the raising of money for Congress. Into the
details of this exasperating task we cannot here enter. Congress was
not wise, and its necessities were desperate, and, despite the
generosity of the French court, he had often to employ extreme measures
to borrow money on doubtful security or none at all.
To excite interest in favor of the colonies Franklin wrote several
papers, whose practical ideas of political liberty were not without
effect in guiding the French people on to their own revolution. Even
the wit of "the old fox," as he was called in England, appealed
strongly to that nation of esprit. So, for instance, when asked if a
certain story of American defeat told by Lord Stormont, the British
ambassador, was a truth, he answered: "No, monsieur, it is not a truth;
it is only a Stormont." And straightway "a stormont" became the polite
word for a lie. Again, when told that Howe had taken Philadelphia he
retorted: "I beg your pardon, sir, Philadelphia has taken Howe."
But though Franklin could maintain his philosophic calm, and could even
joke in the presence of disaster, yet the strain on his nerves was
tremendous. I believe that only once in his life was he betrayed into
manifesting a strong emotion. Mr. Austin, a messenger from Boston, is
coming with important news. All the American commissioners, together
with Beaumarchais, are at Passy waiting his arrival. His chaise is
heard in the court, and they go out to meet him. But before he even
alights Franklin cries out, "Sir, _is_ Philadelphia taken?" "Yes, sir,"
says Austin. It seemed then that all was over. Without a word Franklin
clasped his hands and turned toward the house. "But, sir," said Austin,
"I have greater news than that GENERAL BURGOYNE AND HIS WHOLE ARMY ARE
PRISONERS OF WAR!" "The news," as one of the party afterwards declared,
"was like a sovereign cordial to the dying." How deep the impression
upon Franklin was we may judge from his gratitude to the messenger. Mr.
Austin relates that often he "would break from one of those musings in
which it was his habit to indulge, and clasping his hands together,
exclaim, 'Oh, Mr. Austin, you brought us glorious news!'"