SECOND MISSION TO ENGLAND, III THE HUTCHINSON LETTERS: THE PRIVY COUNCIL
SCENE: RETURN HOME
The famous episode of the Hutchinson letters, occurring near the close
of Franklin's stay in England, must be narrated with a brevity more in
accord with its real historical value than with its interest as a
dramatic story. In conversation one day with an English gentleman,
Franklin spoke with resentment of the sending troops to Boston and the
other severe measures of the government. The other in reply engaged to
convince him that these steps were taken upon the suggestion and advice
of Americans. A few days later he made good his promise by producing
certain letters, signed by Hutchinson, Oliver, and others, all natives
of and residents and office-holders in America. The addresses had been
cut from the letters; but in other respects they were unmutilated, and
they were the original documents. They contained just such matter as the
gentleman had described,--opinions and advice which would have commended
themselves highly to a royalist, but which could have seemed to a
patriot in the provinces only the most dangerous and abominable
treason. Induced by obvious motives, Franklin begged leave to send these
letters to Massachusetts, and finally obtained permission to do so,
subject to the stipulation that they should not be printed nor copied,
and should be circulated only among a few leading men. His purpose, he
said, lay in his belief that when the "principal people" in Boston "saw
the measures they complained of took their rise in a great degree from
the representations and recommendations of their own countrymen, their
resentment against Britain might abate, as mine has done, and a
reconciliation be more easily obtained."[30] Franklin accordingly sent
over the letters, together with strict injunctions in pursuance of his
engagement to the giver of them: "In confidence of your following
inviolably my engagement," etc., he wrote. But this solemn instruction
was not complied with; the temptation was too great for the honor of
some among the patriots, who resolved that the letters should be made
public despite any pledge to the contrary, and resorted to a shallow
artifice for achieving their end. A story was started that authenticated
copies of the same papers had been received from England by somebody.
There was a prudent abstention from any inquiry into the truth of this
statement. "I know," said Franklin, "that could not be. It was an
expedient to disengage the House." Dishonest as it obviously was, it was
successful; members accepted it as a removal of the seal of secrecy; and
the documents having thus found their way before the Assembly were
ordered to be printed. That body, greatly incensed, immediately voted a
petition to the king for the removal of the governor and
lieutenant-governor, and sent it over to Franklin to be presented.
[Note 30: The importance of establishing the fact that the
government's course was instigated by Hutchinson is liable at the
present day to be underrated. For his name has fallen into such extreme
disrepute in America that to have been guided by his advice seems only
an additional offense. But such was not the case; Hutchinson came of old
and prominent Massachusetts stock; he was a descendant of Anne
Hutchinson, of polemic fame, and when appointed to office he appeared a
man of good standing and ability. The English government had a perfect
right to rely upon the soundness of his statements and opinions. Thus it
was really of great moment for Franklin to be able to convince the
people of Massachusetts that the English measures were in strict
conformity with Hutchinson's suggestions. It was an excuse for the
English, as it also was the condemnation of Hutchinson, in colonial
opinion.]
The publication of these letters made no little stir. The writers were
furious, and of course brought vehement charges of bad faith and
dishonorable behavior. But they were at a loss to know upon whom to
visit their wrath. For the person to whom they had written the letters
was dead, and they knew no one else who had been concerned in the
matter. The secret of the channel of conveyance had been rigidly kept.
No one had the slightest idea by whom the letters had been transmitted
to Massachusetts, nor by whom they had been received there. To this day
it is not known by whom the letters were given to Franklin. July 25,
1773, he wrote to Mr. Cushing, the speaker of the Assembly, to whom he
had inclosed the letters: "I observe that you mention that no person
besides Dr. Cooper and one member of the committee knew they came from
me. I did not accompany them with any request of being myself concealed;
for, believing what I did to be in the way of my duty as agent, though I
had no doubt of its giving offense, not only to the parties exposed but
to administration here, I was regardless of the consequences. However,
since the letters themselves are now copied and printed, contrary to the
promise I made, I am glad my name has not been heard on the occasion;
and, as I do not see how it could be of any use to the public, I now
wish it may continue unknown; though I hardly expect it." Unfortunately
it soon became of such use to two individuals in England that Franklin
himself felt obliged to divulge it; otherwise it might have remained
forever a mystery.
Though the addresses had been cut from the letters, yet they had
previously been shown to many persons in England, and it soon became
known there that they had been written to Mr. William Whately, now dead,
but who, when the letters were written, was a member of Parliament and
private secretary to George Grenville, who was then in the cabinet. Amid
the active surmises as to the next link in the chain suspicion
naturally attached to Thomas Whately, brother and executor of the dead
man, and in possession of his papers. This gentleman denied that he had
ever, to his knowledge, had these letters in his hands. Suspicion next
attached to Mr. Temple, "our friend," as Franklin described him. He had
had access to the letters of William Whately for the purpose of getting
from among them certain letters written by himself and his brother; he
had lived in America, had been governor of New Hampshire, and later in
letters to his friends there had announced the coming of the letters
before they had actually arrived. The expression of suspicion towards
Temple found its way into a newspaper, bolstered with an intimation that
the information came from Thomas Whately. Temple at once made a demand
upon Whately to exculpate him. This of course Whately could not do,
since he had not inspected the letters taken by Temple, and so could not
say of his knowledge that these were not among them. But instead of
taking this perfectly safe ground, he published a card stating that
Temple had had access to the letters of the deceased for a special
purpose, and that Temple had solemnly averred to him, Whately, that he
had neither removed nor copied any letters save those written by himself
and his brother. This exoneration was far from satisfying Temple, who
conceived that it rather injured than improved his position. Accordingly
he challenged Whately and the two fought in Hyde Park ring. The story
of the duel, which was mingled of comedy and tragedy, is vividly told by
Mr. Parton. Whately was wounded twice, and at his request the fight then
ceased. Temple was accused, but unfairly, of having thrust at him when
he was down. But it was no conventional duel, or result of temporary hot
blood. The contestants were profoundly angry with each other, and were
bent on more serious results than curable wounds. It was understood that
so soon as Whately should be well, the fight would be renewed. Thus
matters stood when Franklin came up to London from a visit in the
country, to be astonished by the news of what had occurred, and annoyed
at the prospect of what was likely to occur. At once he inserted this
letter:--
TO THE PRINTER OF THE PUBLIC ADVERTISER:"
_Sir_,--Finding that two gentlemen have been unfortunately engaged
in a duel about a transaction and its circumstances of which both
of them are totally ignorant and innocent, I think it incumbent
upon me to declare (for the prevention of further mischief, as far
as such a declaration may contribute to prevent it) that I alone am
the person who obtained and transmitted to Boston the letters in
question. Mr. Whately could not communicate them, because they were
never in his possession; and for the same reason they could not be
taken from him by Mr. Temple. They were not of the nature of
_private_ letters between friends. They were written by public
officers to persons in public stations on public affairs, and
intended to procure public measures; they were therefore handed to
other public persons, who might be influenced by them to produce
those measures. Their tendency was to incense the mother country
against her colonies, and, by the steps recommended, to widen the
breach which they effected. The chief caution expressed with regard
to privacy was, to keep their contents from the colony agents, who,
the writers apprehended, might return them, or copies of them, to
America. That apprehension was, it seems, well founded, for the
first agent who laid his hands on them thought it his duty to
transmit them to his constituents.
B. FRANKLIN,
_Agent for the House of Representatives of
Massachusetts Bay_.
CRAVEN STREET, _December 25, 1773_.
The petition, forwarded by the House of Representatives of Massachusetts
Bay, after they had read the famous letters, recited that the
petitioners had "very lately had before them _certain papers_," and it
was upon the strength of the contents of these papers that they humbly
prayed that his majesty would be "pleased to remove from their posts in
this government" Governor Hutchinson and Lieutenant-Governor Oliver.
Immediately upon receipt of this petition Franklin transmitted it to
Lord Dartmouth, with a very civil and conciliatory note, to which Lord
Dartmouth replied in the same spirit. This took place in August, 1773;
the duel followed in December, and in the interval Franklin had heard
nothing from the petition. But when his foregoing letter was published
and conned over it seemed that the auspicious moment for the ministry
was now at hand, and that it had actually been furnished to them by the
astute Franklin himself. There is no question that he had acted
according to his conscience, and it seems now to be generally agreed
that his conscience did not mislead him. But he had been placed in a
difficult position, and it was easily possible to give a very bad
coloring to his conduct. There was in this business an opportunity to
bring into discredit the character of the representative man of America,
the man foremost of Americans in the eyes of the world, the man most
formidable to the ministerial party; such an opportunity was not to be
lost.[31]
[Note 31: It must be confessed that the question whether Franklin
should have sent these letters to be seen by the leading men of
Massachusetts involves points of some delicacy. The very elaborateness
and vehemence of the exculpations put forth by American writers indicate
a lurking feeling that the opposite side is at least plausible. I add my
opinion decidedly upon Franklin's side, though I certainly see force in
the contrary view. Yet before one feels fully satisfied he would wish to
know from whom these letters came to Franklin's hands, the information
then given him concerning them, and the authority which the giver might
be supposed to have over them; in a word, all the attendant and
qualifying circumstances and conversation upon which presumptions might
have been properly founded by Franklin. Upon these essential matters
there is absolutely no evidence. Franklin was bound to secrecy
concerning them, at whatever cost to himself. But it is evident that
Franklin never for an instant entertained the slightest doubt of the
entire propriety of his action, and even in his own cause he was wont to
be a fair-minded judge. One gets a glimpse of the other side in the
_Diary and Letters of his Excellency Thomas Hutchinson_, _Esq._, etc.,
by Thomas Orlando Hutchinson, pp. 5, 82-93, 192, 356.]
Franklin had anticipated that the "king would have considered this
petition, as he had done the preceding one, in his cabinet, and have
given an answer without a hearing." But on the afternoon of Saturday,
January 8, 1774, he was surprised to receive notice of a hearing upon
the petition before the Lords of the Committee for Plantation Affairs,
at the Cockpit, on the Tuesday following, at noon. Late in the afternoon
of Monday he got notice that Mr. Mauduit, agent for Hutchinson and
Oliver, would be represented at the hearing on the following morning by
counsel. A less sagacious man than Franklin would have scented trouble
in the air. He tried to find Arthur Lee; but Lee was in Bath. He then
sought advice from Mr. Bollan, a barrister, agent for the Council of
Massachusetts Bay, and who also had been summoned. There was no time to
instruct counsel, and Mr. Bollan advised to employ none; he had found
"lawyers of little service in colony cases." "Those who are eminent and
hope to rise in their profession are unwilling to offend the court,
whose disposition on this occasion was well known." The next day at the
hearing Mr. Bollan endeavored to speak; but, though he had been
summoned, he was summarily silenced, on the ground that the colonial
Council, whose agent he was, was not a party to the petition. Franklin
then laid the petition and authenticated copies of the letters before
the committee. Some objections to the receipt of copies instead of
originals were raised by Mr. Wedderburn, solicitor-general and counsel
for Hutchinson and Oliver. Franklin then spoke with admirable keenness
and skill. He said that he had not conceived the matter to call for
discussion by lawyers; but that it was a "question of civil or political
prudence, whether, on the state of the fact that the governors had lost
all trust and confidence with the people, and become universally
obnoxious, it would be for the interest of his majesty's service to
continue them in those stations in that province." Of this he conceived
their lordships to be "perfect judges," not requiring "assistance from
the arguments of counsel." Yet if counsel was to be heard he asked an
adjournment to enable him to engage and instruct lawyers. Time was
accordingly granted, until January 29. Wedderburn waived his objection
to the copies, but both he and Lord Chief Justice De Grey intimated that
inquiry would be made as to "how the Assembly came into possession of
them, through whose hands and by what means they were procured, ... and
to whom they were directed." This was all irrelevant to the real issue,
which had been sharply defined by Franklin. The lord president, near
whom Franklin stood, asked him whether he intended to answer such
questions. "In that I shall take counsel," replied Franklin.
The interval which elapsed before the day nominated could not have been
very lightsome for the unfortunate agent for the Massachusetts Bay. Not
only had he the task of selecting and instructing competent counsel, but
even his self-possessed and composed nature must have been severely
harassed by the rumors of which the air was full. He heard from all
quarters that the ministry and courtiers were highly enraged against
him; he was called an incendiary, and the newspapers teemed with
invectives against him. He heard that he was to be apprehended and sent
to Newgate, and that his papers were to be seized; that after he had
been sufficiently blackened by the hearing he would be deprived of his
place; with disheartening news also that the disposition of the petition
had already been determined.[32] At the same time a subpoena was
served upon him at the private suit of Whately, who was under personal
obligations to him, but was also a banker to the government. Certainly
the heavens threatened a cloudburst with appalling thunder and dangerous
lightning.
[Note 32: Franklin's _Works_, v. 297, 298.]
Upon reflection Franklin was disposed to do without counsel, but Mr.
Bollan now became strongly of the contrary opinion. So Mr. Dunning and
Mr. John Lee were retained. The former had been solicitor-general, and
was a man of mark and ability in the profession. When the hearing came
on, the Cockpit presented such a spectacle that Franklin felt assured
that the whole affair had been "preconcerted." The hostile courtiers
had been "invited, as to an entertainment, and there never was such an
appearance of privy councilors on any occasion, not less than
thirty-five, besides an immense crowd of other auditors." Every one save
the privy councilors had to stand from beginning to end of the
proceedings. Franklin occupied a position beside the fireplace, where he
stood throughout immovable as a statue, his features carefully composed
so that not one trace of emotion was apparent upon them, showing a
degree of self-control which was extraordinary even in one who was at
once a man of the world and a philosopher, with sixty-eight years of
experience in life. Mr. Dunning, with his voice unfortunately weakened
by a cold, was not always audible and made little impression. Mr. Lee
was uselessly feeble. Wedderburn, thus inefficiently opposed, and
conscious of the full sympathy of the tribunal, poured forth a vile
flood of personal invective. Throughout his life he approved himself a
mean-spirited and ignoble man, despised by those who used and rewarded
his able and debased services. On this occasion he eagerly took
advantage of the protection afforded by his position and by Dr.
Franklin's age to use language which, under such circumstances, was as
cowardly as it was false. Nothing, he said, "will acquit Dr. Franklin of
the charge of obtaining [the letters] by fraudulent or corrupt means,
for the most malignant of purposes, unless he stole them from the
person who stole them." "I hope, my lords, you will mark and brand the
man, for the honor of this country, of Europe, and of mankind." "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 escritoires. He will
henceforth esteem it a libel to be called _a man of letters_, _homo_
TRIUM[33] _literarum_." "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.'
[Note 33: A play upon the Latin word, FUR, a thief.]
'Know then 't was--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."
Such was the torrent of vilification which flowed from the lips of one
of the meanest of England's lawyers, and the speaker was constantly
encouraged by applause, and by various indications of gratification on
the part of the tribunal before which he argued. Dr. Priestley, who was
present, said that from the opening of the proceedings it was evident
"that the real object of the court was to insult Dr. Franklin," an
object in which their lordships were, of course, able to achieve a
complete success. "No person belonging to the council behaved with
decent gravity, except Lord North," who came late and remained standing
behind a chair. It was a disgraceful scene, but not of long duration;
apparently there was little else done save to hear the speeches of
counsel. The report of the lords was dated on the same day, and was a
severe censure upon the petition and the petitioners. More than this,
their lordships went out of their way to inflict a wanton outrage upon
Franklin. The question of who gave the letters to him was one which all
concerned were extremely anxious to hear answered. But it was also a
question which he could not lawfully be compelled to answer in these
proceedings; it was wholly irrelevant; moreover it was involved in the
cause then pending before the lord chancellor in which Franklin was
respondent. Accordingly, by advice of counsel, advice unquestionably
correct, he refused to divulge what their lordships were so curious to
hear. Enraged, they said in their report that his "silence" was abundant
support for the conclusion that the "charge of surreptitiously obtaining
the letters was a true one," although they knew that in law and in fact
his silence was wholly justifiable.
Resolutely as Franklin sought at the time to repress any expression of
his natural indignation, there is evidence enough of how deeply he felt
this indignity. For example, there is the familiar story of his dress.
He wore, at the Cockpit, "a full dress suit of spotted Manchester
velvet." Many years afterward, when it befell him, as one of the
ambassadors of his country, to sign the treaty of alliance with France,
the first treaty ever made by the United States of America, and which
practically insured the defeat of Great Britain in the pending war, it
was observed by Dr. Bancroft that he was attired in this same suit. The
signing was to have taken place on February 5, but was unexpectedly
postponed to the next day, when again Franklin appeared in the same old
suit and set his hand to the treaty. Dr. Bancroft says: "I once
intimated to Dr. Franklin the suspicion which his wearing these clothes
on that occasion had excited in my mind, when he smiled, without telling
me whether it was well or ill founded." Having done this service, the
suit was again laid away until it was brought forth to be worn at Paris
at the signing of the treaty of peace with England, a circumstance the
more noteworthy since at that time the French court was in mourning.[34]
It appears that Franklin for a time entertained a purpose of drawing up
an "answer to the abuses" cast at him upon this occasion. There was,
however, no need for doing so, and his reason for not doing it is more
eloquent on his behalf with posterity than any pamphlet could be. He
said: "It was partly written, but the affairs of public importance I
have been ever since engaged in prevented my finishing it. The injuries
too that my country has suffered have absorbed private resentments, and
made it appear trifling for an individual to trouble the world with his
particular justification, when all his compatriots were stigmatized by
the king and Parliament as being in every respect the worst of mankind."
The proceedings at the Cockpit took place on a Saturday. On the
following Monday morning Franklin got a "written notice from the
secretary of the general post-office, that his majesty's
postmaster-general _found it necessary_ to dismiss me from my office of
deputy postmaster-general in North America." In other ways, too, the
mischief done him by this public assault could not be concealed. It
published to all the world the feeling of the court and the ministry
toward him, and told Englishmen that it was no longer worth while to
keep up appearances of courtesy and good will.
[Note 34: Parton's _Life of Franklin_, ii. 508.]
It put upon him a judicial stigma, which was ample excuse for the
enemies of America henceforth to treat him as both dishonored and
dishonorable. Hitherto his tact and his high character had preserved him
in a great measure from the social annoyances and curtailments which he
would naturally have suffered as the prominent representative of an
unpopular cause. But it seemed now as if his judgment had once and
fatally played him false, and certainly his good name and his prestige
were given over to his enemies, who dealt cruelly with them. He felt
that it was the end of his usefulness, also that his own self-respect
and dignity must be carefully preserved; and he wrote to the Assembly of
Massachusetts to say that it would be impossible for him longer to act
as its agent. From that time he never attended the levee of a minister.
The portcullis had dropped; the days of his service in England were
over.
The conclusion had come painfully, yet it was not without satisfaction
that he saw himself free to return home. His affairs had suffered in his
absence, and needed his attention now more than ever, since he was
deprived of his income from the post-office. Moreover his efforts could
no longer be cheered with hopes of success or even of achieving any
substantial advantage for his countrymen. He was obliged to admit that
the good disposition of Lord Dartmouth had had no practical results. "No
single measure of his predecessor has since been even attempted to be
changed, and, on the contrary, new ones have been continually added,
further to exasperate these people, render them desperate, and drive
them, if possible, into open rebellion." It had been a vexatious
circumstance, too, that not long before this time he had received a
rebuke from the Massachusetts Assembly for having been lax, as they
fancied, in notifying them of some legislation of an injurious
character, which was in preparation. "This censure," he said, "though
grievous, does not so much surprise me, as I apprehended all along from
the beginning that between the friends of an old agent, my predecessor,
who thought himself hardly used in his dismission, and those of a young
man impatient for the succession, my situation was not likely to be a
very comfortable one, as my faults could scarce pass unobserved." This
reference to the malicious and untrustworthy back-biter, Arthur Lee,
might have been much more severe, and still amply deserved. The most
important acts of his ignoble life, by which alone his memory is
preserved, were the slanders which he set in circulation concerning
Franklin. Yet Franklin, little suspicious and very magnanimous, praised
him as a "gentleman of parts and ability," likely to serve the province
with zeal and activity. Probably from this impure Lee fount, but
possibly from some other source, there now came a renewal of the rumors
that Franklin was to be gained over to the ministerial side by
promotion to some office superior to that which he had held. The
injurious story was told in Boston, where perhaps a few persons believed
it to be true of a man who in fact could hardly have set upon his fealty
a price so high that the British government would not gladly have paid
it, and who heretofore had been, and at this very time again was,
tempted by repeated solicitations and the intimations of grand rewards,
only to change his mind--a matter so very easy in politics.
Furthermore, beyond these assaults upon his fidelity, these insults of
the privy council, Franklin had to contemplate the possibility of
personal danger. He was a man of abundant courage, but courage does not
make a prison or a gallows an agreeable object in one's horizon. The
newspapers alleged that in his correspondence "treason" had been
discovered. The ministry, as he was directly informed, thought no better
of him than did the editors, regarding him as "the great fomenter of the
opposition in America," the "great adversary to any accommodation." "It
is given out," he wrote, "that copies of several letters of mine to you
are sent over here to the ministers, and that their contents are
treasonable, for which I should be prosecuted if copies could be made
evidence." He was not conscious of any treasonable intention, but
treason was a word to make a man anxious in those days, when uttered by
the ministry and echoed by the court. Franklin was quite aware that,
though ministers might offer him a tempting place by way of bribe, they
would far rather give him "a place in a cart to Tyburn." His friends
warned him that his situation was hazardous; that, "if by some accident
the troops and the people of New England should come to blows," he would
doubtless be seized; and they advised him to withdraw while yet he could
do so. Hutchinson frankly avowed that, if his advice were taken, the
withdrawal would not be permitted. "But," said Franklin, "I venture to
stay," upon the chance of still being of use, "and I confide on my
innocence that the worst which can happen to me will be an imprisonment
upon suspicion; though that is a thing I should much desire to avoid, as
it may be expensive and vexatious, as well as dangerous to my health."
So spoke this imperturbable man, and calmly stayed at his post.
He was still consulted by both sides in England. In the August following
the scene in the privy council chamber, he called upon Lord Chatham and
had a long and interesting interview. He then said that he attributed
the late "wrong politics" to the departure from the old and true British
principle, "whereby every province was well governed, being trusted in a
great measure with the government of itself." When it was sought to take
this privilege from the colonies, grave blunders had inevitably ensued;
because, as he admirably expressed it, Parliament insisted upon being
_omnipotent_ when it was not _omniscient_. In other words, the affairs
of the unrepresented colonies were mismanaged through sheer ignorance.
It is noteworthy that England has since recognized the necessity of
precisely the principle indicated by Franklin for colonial government;
all her great colonies are now "trusted in a great measure with the
government" of themselves, and are consequently "well governed."
Franklin further assured his lordship that in all his travels in the
provinces he had never once heard independence hinted at as a desirable
thing. This gave Chatham much pleasure; but perhaps neither of them at
the moment reflected how many eventful years had elapsed since Franklin
was last journeying in America. He further declared that the colonists
were "even not against regulations of the general commerce by
Parliament, provided such regulations were _bona fide_ for the benefit
of the _whole empire_, not to the small advantage of one part to the
great injury of another." This, by the way, was a good point, which he
found very serviceable when people talked to him about the unity of the
empire. A genuine unity was just the gospel which he liked to preach.
"An equal dispensation," he said, "of protection, rights, privileges,
and advantages is what every part is entitled to, and ought to enjoy, it
being a matter of no moment to the state whether a subject grows rich
and flourishing on the Thames or the Ohio, in Edinburgh or Dublin." But
no living Englishman could accept this broad and liberal doctrine. The
notion that the colonies were a dependency and should be tributary to
the greater power was universal. It was admitted that they should not be
oppressed; but it was believed that between oppression and that perfect
unity which involved entire equality there was certainly a middle ground
whereon the colonies might properly be established.
Lord Chatham expressed in courteous compliments the gratification which
this visit afforded him. Not long afterward he came gallantly to the
defense of Franklin in the House of Lords. It was one day in February,
1775; Franklin was standing in full view, leaning on a rail; Lord
Sandwich was speaking against a measure of conciliation or agreement
just introduced by Chatham. He said that it deserved "only contempt,"
and "ought to be immediately rejected. I can never believe it to be the
production of any British peer. It appears to me rather the work of some
American. I fancy I have in my eye the person who drew it up, one of the
bitterest and most mischievous enemies this country has ever known."
Speaking thus, he looked full at Franklin, and drew upon him the general
attention. But Chatham hastened to defend the defenseless one. "The plan
is entirely my own," he said; "but if I were the first minister, and had
the care of settling this momentous business, I should not be ashamed of
calling to my assistance a person so perfectly acquainted with the
whole of American affairs, one whom all Europe ranks with our Boyles
and Newtons, as an honor not to the English nation only but to human
nature." This was spirited and friendly; Franklin had a way of making
warm and loyal friends. Most men would have rejoiced to be so abused by
Sandwich in order to be so complimented by Chatham.[35]
[Note 35: Bancroft, _Hist. U. S._ v. 220.]
Yet, in spite of the high esteem in which so many Englishmen still held
Franklin, an incident occurred at this time which showed very plainly
that the term of his full usefulness was indeed over, though not
altogether for the reasons which had led him to think so. The fact was
that the proverbial last feather which breaks the back had been laid
upon him. His endurance had been over-taxed, and he was at last in that
temper and frame of mind in which the wisest men are liable to make
grave mistakes. He was one day present at a debate in the House of
Commons, and found himself, as he says, "much disgusted, from the
ministerial side, by many base reflections on American courage,
religion, understanding, etc., in which we were treated with the utmost
contempt, as the lowest of mankind, and almost of a different species
from the English of Britain; but particularly the American honesty was
abused by some of the lords, who asserted that we were all knaves, etc."
Franklin went home "somewhat irritated and heated," and before he had
cooled he wrote a paper which he hastened to show to his friend Mr.
Thomas Walpole, a member of the House of Commons. Mr. Walpole "looked at
it and at me several times alternately, as if he apprehended me a little
out of my senses." Nor would Mr. Walpole have been altogether without
reason, if in fact he entertained such a suspicion. The paper was the
memorial of Benjamin Franklin to the Earl of Dartmouth, secretary of
state. In its first clause it demanded "reparation" for the injury done
by the blockade of the port of Boston. Conventional forms of speech were
observed, yet there was an atmosphere almost of injurious insolence,
entirely foreign to all other productions of Franklin's brain and pen.
Its second paragraph recited that the conquests made in the northeast
from France, which included all those extensive fisheries which still
survive as a bone of contention between the two countries, had been
_jointly_ won by England and the American colonies, at their common
cost, and by an army in which the provincial troops were nearly equal in
numbers to the British. "It follows," the audacious memorialist said,
"that the colonies have an equitable and just right to participate in
the advantage of those fisheries," and the present English attempt to
deprive the Massachusetts people of sharing in them was "an act highly
unjust and injurious." He concluded: "I give notice that satisfaction
will probably one day be demanded for all the injury that may be done
and suffered in the execution of such act; and that the injustice of
the proceeding is likely to give such umbrage to _all the colonies_ that
in no future war, wherein other conquests may be meditated, either a man
or a shilling will be obtained from any of them to aid such conquests,
till full satisfaction be made as aforesaid."
Here was indeed a fulmination to strike an Englishman breathless and
dumb with amazement. It put the colonies in the position of a coequal or
allied power, entitled to share with Britain the spoils of victory; even
in the position of an independent power which could refuse the military
allegiance of subjects. English judges would have found abundant treason
in this insubordinate document. It may soothe common men to see the
wise, the serene, the self-contained Dr. Franklin, the philosopher and
diplomatist, for once lose his head in a gust of uncontrollable passion.
Walpole, though a loyal Englishman, was fortunately his true friend, and
wrote him, with a brevity more impressive than argument, that the
memorial "might be attended with dangerous consequences to your person
and contribute to exasperate the nation." He closed with the significant
sentence: "I heartily wish you a prosperous voyage and long health." The
significant words remind one of the woodcock's feather with which
Wildrake warned the disguised monarch that no time was to be lost in
fleeing from Woodstock. But if the hint was curt, it was no less wise.
There was no doubt that it was full time for the sage to be exchanging
his farewells, when such a point had been reached. The next day, as
Franklin relates, Walpole called and said that "it was thought my having
no instructions directing me to deliver such a protest would make it
appear still more unjustifiable, and be deemed a national affront. I had
no desire to make matters worse, and, being grown cooler, took the
advice so kindly given me."
The last business which Franklin had to transact on the eve of his
departure came in the shape of one of those mysterious and obscure bits
of negotiation which are at times undertaken by private persons who are
very "near" to ministers, and who conduct their affairs with impressive
secrecy. Just how much this approach amounted to it is difficult to say;
no less a person than Lord Howe was concerned in it, and he was
undoubtedly in direct communication with Lord North. But whether that
potentate really anticipated any substantial good result may be doubted.
Franklin himself has told the story with much particularity, and since
it will neither bear curtailment nor admit of being related at length,
and since the whole palaver accomplished absolutely nothing, the
relation will be omitted here. In the course of it the efforts to bribe
Franklin were renewed, and briefly rejected by him. Also he met, and
established a very friendly personal relation with, Lord Howe, who
afterward commanded the British fleet in American waters.
Having discovered the emptiness of this business, Franklin at last
completed his arrangements for his return home. He placed his agencies
in the hands of Arthur Lee. His last day in London he passed with his
stanch old friend. Dr. Priestley, and a large part of the time, says the
doctor, "he was looking over a number of American newspapers, directing
me what to extract from them for the English ones; and in reading them
he was frequently not able to proceed for the tears literally running
down his cheeks." Such was the depth of feeling in one often accounted
callous, indifferent, or even untrustworthy in the matter of American
relations with England. He felt some anxiety as to whether his departure
might not be prevented by an arrest, and made his journey to Portsmouth
with such speed and precautions as were possible.[36] But he was not
interrupted, and sailed on some day near the middle of March, 1775. His
departure marked an era in the relations of Great Britain with her
American colonies. It signified that all hope of agreement, all
possibility of reconciliation upon one side or of recession upon the
other, were absolutely over. That Franklin gave up in despair the task
of preventing a war meant that war was certain and imminent. He arrived
in Philadelphia May 5, 1775. During his absence his wife had died, and
his daughter had married a young man, Richard Bache, whom he had never
yet seen.
[Note 36: Parton's _Life of Franklin_, ii. 70.]