Chapter 5

The petition was not allowed, and Pennsylvania remained in the hands of the proprietaries until it became an independent state. But other questions, far more important than the local difficulties of any one colony, were to occupy Franklin's and the other commissioners' time. Franklin was in England from December, 1764, until March of 1775, and during these ten years was busily engaged in supporting the colonies in their unequal struggle against the British Parliament. He was the accredited representative of Pennsylvania, Georgia, New Jersey, and Massachusetts, and before the government and the people of England stood as the champion of the whole province. Every one knows the nature of the acts which finally created a new empire in the West,--the Stamp Act, the duty on tea, the Boston Port bill. Their very names still stir the patriotic blood of America. The principle at issue was clearly announced in the battle cry, "No taxation without representation." Franklin was a stanch advocate of the American claims, and threw all the weight of his personal influence and of his eloquent pen into the work. But in one respect he seems to have been deceived: during the first years of his mission he held Parliament responsible for all the tyrannical measures against the colonies, and looked upon the king as their natural protector. It was a feeling common among Americans who wished to preserve their allegiance to the empire while protesting against the authority of the laws. Even as late as 1771 he could write these words about George III: "I can scarcely conceive a king of better dispositions, of more exemplary virtues, or more truly desirous of promoting the welfare of his subjects." When at last the bigoted character of that sovereign was fully revealed to him, he despaired utterly of reconciliation with the mother country.

Franklin's labors may well be portrayed in two dramatic incidents: his examination before Parliament in 1766, and the so-called Privy Council outrage in 1774.

After the passage of the Stamp Act, Franklin wrote to a friend: "Depend upon it, my good neighbor, I took every step in my power to prevent the passing of the Stamp Act. Nobody could be more concerned and interested than myself to oppose it sincerely and heartily.... We might as well have hindered the sun's setting. That we could not do. But since it is down, my friend, and it may be long before it rises again, let us make as good a night of it as we can. We can still light candles. Frugality and industry will go a great way towards indemnifying us. Idleness and pride tax with a heavier hand than kings and parliaments. If we can get rid of the former, we may easily bear the latter." But Franklin's philosophical habit of accepting the inevitable,--a habit which for a time brought him the hostility of such strenuous patriots as the Adamses,--did not prevent him from doing all in his power to further the repeal of that act when the matter was again taken up by Parliament. Nor did America lack friends in Parliament itself, and these gentlemen now arranged that Franklin should give testimony before the bar of the House.

In the examination which followed, Franklin showed the fullness of his knowledge and the keenness of his wit better perhaps than in any other act of his life. It is impossible to give at length the replies with which he aided the friends of repeal and baffled its foes; but a few of his answers may indicate the nature of all.

_Q._ "What was the temper of America towards Great Britain before the year 1763?"

_A._ "The best in the world. They submitted willingly to the government of the Crown, and paid in their courts obedience to acts of Parliament.... They had not only a respect, but an affection for Great Britain; for its laws, its customs, and manners; and even a fondness for its fashions, that greatly increased the commerce. Natives of Britain were always treated with particular regard; to be an _Old England man_ was, of itself, a character of some respect, and gave a kind of rank among us."

_Q._ "What is their temper now?"

_A._ "Oh, very much altered."

_Q._ "How would the Americans receive a future tax, imposed on the same principle as the Stamp Act?"

_A._ "Just as they do the Stamp Act; _they would not pay it_".

_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 rôle 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.