display the breadth and catholicity of his mind than in his plan
for the establishment, in the New World, of an association for the
general diffusion of useful knowledge, to which the Old World should
be tributary, and from which it should in time be recipient. With this
end in view, he, in 1743, issued a proposal for the organization and
government of an American Philosophical Society, whose object was to
bring into correspondence with a central association in Philadelphia
all scientists, philosophers, and inventors, on this continent and
in Europe. Bold as was this scheme in its breadth and reach, in its
smaller details it was marked by the practical characteristics of
the projector. The Hamiltons and Franklins might “dream dreams and
see visions” to the end of the chapter; but they would have framed
no governments, or have founded no learned institutions destined to
outlast the centuries, had not their ideality been well balanced by
the strong common sense that Guizot calls “the genius of humanity.” It
was this union of the ideal and the practical that caused Franklin to
be so appreciated by the French. Mirabeau named him “the sage of two
worlds,” with a larger grasp of thought than that of our own day, when
he is still claimed, like the debatable baby brought to King Solomon,
by two cities,--by Boston, in which he first saw the light, and by
Philadelphia, in which he disseminated it so liberally.
Although there is a vast amount of documentary evidence to prove
that the American Philosophical Society was the direct outcome of
Franklin’s proposal of 1743, and that before the breaking out of the
war with Great Britain it was an active and useful organization,
having a large native and foreign membership, two of Dr. Franklin’s
biographers have done but scant justice to his work in this direction.
Professor McMaster, in his recent interesting life of Franklin as a
man of letters, dismisses his proposal to establish such a society
as a failure;[19] while Mr. Parton, after mentioning the fact of
Franklin having founded the Philosophical Society, in accordance with
his proposal of 1743, adds, “The society was formed, and continued in
existence for some years. Nevertheless, its success was neither great
nor permanent, for at that day the circle of men capable of taking much
interest in science was too limited for the proper support of such an
organization.”[20]
As both of these historians mention the Philosophical Society later,
and Mr. Parton at some length in his Life of Jefferson, it is probable
that they did not consider that this early society was identical with
that which in 1767 took a fresh start, elected a number of influential
members, and made for itself an enviable reputation in Europe and
America, in the latter years of the century. Sparks and Bigelow,
however, take what is, according to the historian of the society,
Dr. Robert M. Patterson, a true view of the case, tracing it back,
a continuous organization, to the proposal of Dr. Franklin issued
in 1743. Indeed, they carry it back even further than this period,
deriving it primarily from the old Junto of 1727. After describing the
workings of the Junto, or Leather Apron Society, formed from among
Franklin’s “ingenious acquaintance,” a sort of debating club of clever
young men, Jared Sparks says, “Forty years after its establishment,
it became the basis of the American Philosophical Society, of which
Franklin was the first president, and the published Transactions of
which have contributed to the advancement of science and the diffusion
of valuable knowledge in the United States.”[21] As most of Franklin’s
projects were discussed in the congenial circle that composed the
Junto, this statement does not conflict with that of Dr. Patterson.
Dr. Franklin, in his proposal, gave a list of the subjects that were
to claim the attention of these New World philosophers. It included
“investigations in botany; in medicine; in mineralogy and mining;
in chemistry; in mechanics; in arts, trades, and manufactures; in
geography and topography; in agriculture;” and, lest something should
have been left out of this rather comprehensive list of subjects,
it was added that the association should “give its attention to all
philosophical experiments that let light into the nature of things,
tend to increase the power of man over matter, and multiply the
conveniences or pleasures of life.” The duties of the secretary of the
society were laid down, and were especially arduous, including much
foreign correspondence, in addition to the correcting, abstracting, and
methodizing of such papers as required it. This office Dr. Franklin
took upon himself, saying, with a touch of modesty that seems a trifle
strained, that he “would be secretary until they should be provided
with one more capable.” He, however, tells us in the Autobiography that
he one day added humility to his list of virtues at the suggestion of
a Quaker friend, and this form of expression may have been one of his
self-imposed exercises.
The Philosophical Society, once established, was destined to exert
an important influence on American science, life, and letters. Among
its members were literary men, statesmen, and artists, as well as
scientists and inventors. Before its meetings were read learned papers
on government, history, education, philanthropy, politics, religion,
worship, above all, on common sense: these in addition to the numerous
scientific papers, read and communicated, while among its eulogiums and
_oraisons funèbres_, pronounced upon deceased members, are to be found
compositions worthy of Bossuet.
As early as 1769, the society had members in the different colonies,
in the Barbadoes, in Antigua, in Heidelberg and Stockholm; while in
Edinburgh the distinguished Dr. William Cullen was a member, in London
Dr. John Fothergill, and in Paris the learned Count de Buffon. At
home it numbered such men as Francis Hopkinson, statesman and writer
of prose and poetry; Dr. Phineas Bond and his brother Thomas, both
original members; Dr. Adam Kuhn and Daniel Dulany, of Maryland. Upon
these early lists we find Pierre Eugène du Simitière, who was one
of the committee appointed to prepare a design for a national seal;
Benjamin West; John Dickinson, who was writing his “Farmer’s Letters,”
destined to make him known on both sides of the sea; and John Bartram,
botanist to his majesty, who planted his celebrated botanical garden
near Gray’s Ferry, and built with his own hands the house, above the
study window of which is his devout confession of faith:
“’TIS GOD ALONE, ALMIGHTY LORD,
THE HOLY ONE, BY ME ADORED.
JOHN BARTRAM, 1770.”
A pioneer in this field, he is recognized as the greatest of American
botanists, and, contrary to the rule generally proved by great
men’s sons, had the satisfaction of seeing his studies successfully
prosecuted by his son, William Bartram, who also contributed original
papers to the society.
Writing in 1744 to the Honorable Cadwallader Colden,
Lieutenant-Governor of New York, a distinguished scientist and original
worker in certain lines, Dr. Franklin says,--
“Happening to be in this City about some particular Affairs, I have
the Pleasure of receiving yours of the 28ᵗʰ past, here. And can now
acquaint you, that a Society, as far as relates to Philadelphia,
is actually formed, and has had several Meetings to mutual
Satisfaction;--assoon [_sic_] as I get home, I shall send you a short
Acct. of what has been done and proposed at these meetings.”
Here follows a list of members from Philadelphia, New York, and New
Jersey, to which the writer adds,--
“Mr. Nicholls tells me of several other Gentlemen of this City [New
York] that incline to encourage the Thing.--There are a Number of
others in Virginia, Maryland, Carolina, and the New England States who
we expect to join us assoon [_sic_] as they are acquainted that the
Society has begun to form itself. I am, Sir, with much respect,
“Your most humᵉ sevᵗ
“B. FRANKLIN.”[22]
The Honorable Cadwallader Colden was one of the original members of
the American Philosophical Society, and took an active interest in its
establishment and advance. He and Dr. Franklin were intimate friends,
and in the habit of communicating to each other their scientific
discoveries. It was Dr. Colden who introduced into the study of botany
in America the system of Linnæus.
One of the founders and the first president of this society was Mr.
Thomas Hopkinson, whom Dr. Franklin called his “ingenious friend,”
and to whom he acknowledges his indebtedness for demonstrating “the
power of points to _throw off_ the electrical fire.” Another “ingenious
friend,” to whom he makes no profound acknowledgment, was the Rev.
Ebenezer Kinnersley, a professor in the College of Philadelphia, to
whom it is now generally conceded that Franklin owed much of his
success in important electrical discoveries. Mr. Parton says that, in
1748, “Mr. Kinnersley contrived the amusing experiment of the magical
picture. A figure of his majesty King George II. (‘God preserve him,’
says the loyal Franklin, in parenthesis, when telling the story) was
so arranged that any one who attempted to take his crown from his head
received a tremendous shock.” By this clever contrivance Mr. Kinnersley
proves himself something of a prophet as well as a scientist, for
notwithstanding the violent shock received by the friends of royalty in
the colonies, a few years later, it was conclusively demonstrated that
the crown could be taken off.
In drawing up rules for the government of the Philosophical Society,
Dr. Franklin advises that correspondence be maintained not only
between the central organization and its members in the different
colonies, but with the Royal Society of London and the Dublin Society.
Thus persons residing in remote districts of the United States would
be placed in direct communication with the latest discoveries of Old
World scientists in all their lines of work. What such correspondence
meant to men of intelligence, living far from the centres of education
and enlightenment, in those days of few books and fewer magazines and
journals, it is impossible for us to imagine. Many years later, when
the French botanist, André Michaux, was appointed by his government to
examine the trees of this continent, with a view to their introduction
into France, he carried letters from the Philosophical Society to one
of its members, living in Lexington, Kentucky.
“During my stay at Lexington,” Michaux writes, “I frequently saw Dr.
Samuel Brown, from Virginia, a physician of the College of Edinburgh,
and a member of the Philosophical Society.... Receiving regularly the
scientific journals from London, he is always in the channel of new
discoveries, and turns them to the advantage of his fellow-citizens.
It is to him that they are indebted for the introduction of the
cow-pox. He had at that time inoculated upwards of five hundred
persons in Kentucky, when they were making their first attempts in New
York and Philadelphia.”
Agreeable as it must have been to Michaux to find flowers of science
blooming in these western wilds, we can imagine the even greater
delight that such a man as Dr. Brown must have experienced in meeting
and conversing with this foreigner, fresh from Old World haunts of
learning, with his interesting budget of news, political as well as
scientific. Those were the exciting days of the Consulate in France,
when Lord Nelson was gaining victories for England in the Northern
seas; and we can picture to ourselves these two learned gentlemen,
seated before a great fire of logs, with a steaming bowl of punch, made
from the famous Kentucky apple-jack beside them, turning away from
the paths of science to discuss Napoleon’s victories, the coalition
against England, and the assassination of the Emperor Paul in Russia,
which was followed by a treaty between his successor and the English
sovereign.
American science must have been in a condition of encouraging activity
between 1750 and 1767, for in those years there were no less than
three societies in Philadelphia whose aims and pursuits were in the
main identical,--the promotion of useful knowledge and the drawing
together of its votaries. These societies were a second Junto, of
which the indefatigable Dr. Franklin was a member, the American
Philosophical Society, and the American Society. This division in the
ranks of science probably arose from the feeling existing between the
adherents of the Penn family and those averse to them; these parties
being as violently opposed to each other as were, later, Federalist
and Democratic-Republican; or, still later, the Whig and Democratic
parties. Happily for the historian, who is sadly confused by Juntos
and Juntolings, and by American Societies which were philosophical,
and Philosophical Societies which were also American, these different
bodies showed a disposition to unite, and in 1769 were incorporated
into one society, under the title of American Philosophical Society,
held at Philadelphia, for Promoting Useful Knowledge. This title
proving a trifle “unhandy for every-day use,” to borrow the phraseology
of a patriotic farmer’s wife, who bestowed upon one of her offspring
the entire heading of the Republican ticket in 1860, “Abraham Lincoln
Hannibal Hamlin,” it has gradually been abbreviated into the American
Philosophical Society, there being now no other.
Of this united society Dr. Franklin was elected president, the first
of an honorable line of presidents, whose portraits adorn the walls of
the old rooms on Fifth Street, where the philosophers met more than
a hundred years ago. The society obtained a grant of land from the
State of Pennsylvania in 1785, and in 1787 its hall was completed,
the one still used, in whose sunshiny rooms are now gathered the
relics, the treasures, and the memories of a century. Here is the
old chair on whose broad arm Jefferson wrote the Declaration, and
here are autograph letters and autographs of such value as to fill
the soul of the collector with “envy, hatred, and malice, and all
uncharitableness.” On one side of the hall is the well-known and most
characteristic portrait of Dr. Franklin,[23] in his blue coat, large
wig, and spectacles, while near by is his marble effigy by Houdon,
whose statue of Washington bears the proud inscription, “_Fait par
Houdon, citoyen Français._”
Dr. Franklin was annually elected president of the society, Dr.
Thomas Cadwalader officiating during his residence abroad. Brissot de
Warville, coming to Philadelphia in 1788, exclaims, with devoutness
rare in a Frenchman, “Thanks be to God, he still exists! This great
man, for so many years the preceptor of the Americans, who so
gloriously contributed to their independence; death had threatened his
days, but our fears are dissipated, and his health is restored.” Two
years later the same chronicler records, “Franklin has enjoyed this
year the blessing of death, for which he waited so long a time.”
As president of the Philosophical Society, he was succeeded, in 1791,
by Dr. Rittenhouse, the greatest American astronomer, of whom Jefferson
said, “We have supposed Rittenhouse second to no astronomer living;
in genius he must be first, because he is self-taught.” It was he who
contributed to the society the first purely scientific paper in its
series of Transactions, a calculation on the transit of Venus. He also
described a wonderful orrery, which represented the revolution of the
heavenly bodies more completely than it had ever been done before, and
which he had himself constructed at the age of twenty-three. In June,
1769, he made observations on the transit of Venus. “The whole horizon
was without a cloud,” says Rittenhouse, in his report of this event;
and so greatly excited was the young astronomer that, in the instant of
one of the contacts of the planet with the sun, he actually fainted
with emotion. Rittenhouse’s interesting report on this phenomenon,
which had never been seen but twice before by any inhabitant of the
earth, was received with satisfaction by learned and scientific men
everywhere. Those who visit the hall of the society to-day may look
out upon the State-House yard from the same window through which
Rittenhouse made his observations, and note the passing hours upon
the face of a clock constructed by his hands, which, the curator says,
“still keeps good time.”
Prominent among the portraits of early officers is an interesting
picture of Thomas Jefferson, who was third president of the
Philosophical Society, as well as of the United States. This painting,
which well portrays the intellectual and spirited face of the original,
was executed at Monticello by Mr. Sully, who was invited there for
this purpose. Jefferson, who would have been a great scientist had he
not been called upon by his country to use his powers as a statesman,
naturally took a warm interest in the Philosophical Society, and was a
member long before he was made its president in 1797. While abroad he
disputed the arguments of the learned Count de Buffon on the degeneracy
of American animals, and finally made his position secure by sending
the astonished Frenchman the bones, skin, and horns of an enormous
New Hampshire moose. Equally convincing was this, and more agreeable
than the manner in which Dr. Franklin answered a similar argument on
the degeneracy of American men, by making all the Americans at table,
and all the Frenchmen, stand up. As those of his compatriots present
happened to be fine specimens physically, towering above the little
Gauls, the good doctor had the argument all his own way.
It seemed, indeed, as if these two great men, who so harmoniously
combined the ideal and the practical, were born to prove to the world
that genius of the highest order, in science, letters, and statecraft,
is not incompatible with the same sort of ability that is essential to
the success of a Western farmer or a skilled mechanic. Hence, if Dr.
Franklin employed his leisure hours in inventing an improved stove, or
explaining to the Philosophical Society why certain chimneys smoked;
Mr. Jefferson used his in designing a plough, for which he received a
gold medal from France, and in calculating the number of bushels of
wheat to the acre, at Monticello. One day, he is interesting himself
in the importation of seed-rice from Italy, from the Levant, and from
Egypt; while on another, he is helping the Philosophical Society to
frame instructions for the guidance of André Michaux in his Western
explorations. It was life that interested them both,--life in the
smaller details that affect home comfort, as well as in the broader
issues that bear upon the happiness of states and nations. In Mr.
Jefferson’s minute directions regarding the education of his daughters,
and in his grasp of the details of farming, we recognize the same
sort of practical common sense that so eminently distinguished Dr.
Franklin, of whom his latest biographer says, in his own forcible
and epigrammatic style,--“Whatever he has said on domestic economy,
or thrift, is sound and striking. No other writer has left so many
just and original observations on success in life. No other writer has
pointed out so clearly the way to obtain the greatest amount of comfort
out of life. What Solomon did for the spiritual man, that did Franklin
for the earthly man. The book of Proverbs is a collection of receipts
for laying up treasure in heaven. ‘Poor Richard’ is a collection of
receipts for laying up treasure on earth.”[24]
In addition to its regular meetings for business and for scientific
purposes, the Philosophical Society had its gala days, its annual
dinners, and its especial receptions and entertainments given to
distinguished strangers. Hither, in 1794, came the Rev. Joseph
Priestley, of Birmingham, counted in France too devout for a scientist,
and in England too broad for the clergy. As the discoverer of oxygen,
the friend of Franklin, whose experiments in electricity he had
described, and a devotee to the cause of liberty, Dr. Priestley was
warmly welcomed by the Philosophical Society, which not only received
him into its own learned brotherhood, but adopted him into American
citizenship. This first reception was followed by a dinner given by the
learned coterie in honor of Dr. Priestley.
Many anecdotes of these old dinners have been handed down, showing that
when the good philosophers put science aside they could be as lively
_raconteurs_ and _bons vivants_ as the world has ever seen. On such
festive occasions, the witty old Abbé Correa de Serra, Judge Peters,
Mr. Du Ponceau, Dr. Caspar Wistar, Mr. John Vaughan, and later, Robert
Walsh, LL.D., and the Honorable William Short of Virginia, both most
delightful talkers, George Ord, William Strickland the architect, and
the ever-ready wits Dr. Nathaniel Chapman and Nicholas Biddle, gathered
around the board.
Of Judge Peters’s clever sayings we find numerous records. As he
grew older, his sharp nose and chin approached each other closely. A
friend observed to him, one day, that his nose and chin would soon be
at loggerheads. “Very likely,” he replied, “for hard words often pass
between them.” Once, while he was Speaker of the House of Assembly, one
of the members, in crossing the room, tripped on the carpet and fell
flat. The House burst into laughter, while the judge, with the utmost
gravity, cried, “Order, order, gentlemen! Do you not see that a member
is on the floor?” Unceremonious, communicative, friendly, Judge Peters
was the life of every circle that he entered; correcting Mayor Wharton
at a dinner when he called to the waiter, “John, more wine,” saying
that it was a _demi_john that he needed, while he himself “drank like
a fish,” as he expressed it, from his goblet of water, requiring no
artificial aid to brighten wits that were always keen and scintillating.
Mr. George Ord, who was a delightful _raconteur_ as well as a learned
naturalist, took great pleasure in relating a story of his friend Dr.
Abercrombie, a fellow-member of the society. Dr. James Abercrombie,
sometime rector of Christ and St. Peter’s Churches, was a divine of
the old school, who despised not the good things of this lower world
while engaged in preparation for those of the higher. Once, while on
a pastoral visit to the small town of Shrewsbury, New Jersey, where
an Episcopal church had been established, Dr. Abercrombie was regaled
with some very fine old Madeira wine, which he drank with evident
appreciation, and probably some surprise at finding anything so
choice in that region of the country. The next day, according to Mr.
Ord’s story, the good parson chose for his text that most appropriate
verse from the Acts of the Apostles, in which St. Paul says, “And the
barbarous people showed us no little kindness.”
Another clerical member of the learned fraternity was William White,
one of our early American bishops, who was an ardent patriot and a
genial companion, as well as the most devout of churchmen. A warm
friend of Benjamin West, the artist, Bishop White was fond of telling
how he helped West to secure his bride, Miss Betty Shewell. Mr. West
was in England, and so busy painting for the court and royal family
that he could not come over to America to marry his _fiancée_; but, as
his father was about to sail for England, he wrote to Miss Shewell,
begging her to join his father, and make the voyage with him. Miss
Shewell’s brother, who was averse to the match, chiefly because West
was an impecunious genius, put a stop to the proceedings by confining
the fair bride-elect in an upper room. Bishop White, then a very
young man, Dr. Franklin, and Mr. Francis Hopkinson determined to help
on the “course of true love” by facilitating Miss Shewell’s escape
to the ship, which was waiting for her at Chester. This they did by
means of a romantic rope-ladder and a carriage around the corner.
Miss Shewell with her maid reached the ship in good time, and a few
weeks after was married to Benjamin West in the English chapel of St.
Martin’s-in-the-Fields. In telling this story, the kindly bishop was
wont to add, gleefully, “Ben was a good fellow, and deserved a good
wife, and I would do the same thing over again to-day,”--a sentiment,
we may be sure, that was greeted with applause by the gravest of the
philosophers, they being no exception to the rule that “all the world
loves a lover.” An active member of the society, and for years one of
its counsellors, Bishop White was present on all important occasions,
grave or gay. Having known General Washington and the other great men
of the Revolution, and met and conversed with Samuel Johnson while in
England, his was one of the few familiar faces that greeted the Marquis
de Lafayette when he revisited America in 1824.