Benjamin Franklin

by Paul Elmer More

But our philosopher had much to occupy him besides politics. He had taken lodgings at No. 7 Craven Street with a Mrs. Stevenson, in whom and in whose daughter he found warm and congenial friends. His correspondence with "Dear Polly," the daughter, contains some of his most entertaining letters; and he even planned, but unsuccessfully, to make her the wife of his son William. His fame as a scientist had preceded him, and introduced him into the society of many distinguished men in England and Scotland, among whom his genial nature freely expanded. And nothing could stop the activity of his mind, not even sickness. For eight weeks he struggled with a fever, but the letter to his wife conveying the story of his illness reads as if he were almost willing to undergo such an experience for the opportunity of studying pathology which it offered.

At last he was ready to return home. The University of St. Andrews had conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Laws, and afterwards Oxford had done the same. He had succeeded in his mission, his son had been appointed governor of New Jersey, and he looked forward to a life of honorable ease in his adopted city. Just before sailing he wrote to Lord Kames: "I am now waiting here only for a wind to waft me to America, but cannot leave this happy island and my friends in it without extreme regret, though I am going to a country and a people that I love. I am going from the old world to the new, and I fancy I feel like those who are leaving this world for the next. Grief at the parting, fear of the passage, hope of the future,—these different passions all affect their minds at once, and these have tendered me down exceedingly."

Peace had come to Europe in 1763, but not to America. The Indians, who had been aroused by European intrigue, were not so easily pacified, and western Pennsylvania especially continued to suffer from their ravages. The men of the frontier banded together for retaliation, and unfortunately their revenge equaled the brutality of the red savages. Religious odium added bitterness to the passions. The Scotch-Irish Presbyterians of the west, enraged at the supineness of the eastern Quakers, made the extermination of the Indians a point of religion. The horror reached its climax when the good people of Paxton in cold blood massacred twenty helpless and innocent Indians, and then with a large following marched towards Philadelphia with the avowed purpose of murdering in the name of an angry God one hundred and forty peaceful Moravian Indians. The governor, a nephew of the proprietaries, came, as all men did, to Franklin in his perplexity; he even lodged in Franklin's house, and concerted with him hourly on the means of repelling the invaders. The "Paxton boys" had reached Germantown. The city was in a panic, and there was no time to lose. Franklin first got together a regiment of militia, and then, with three other gentlemen, went out to Germantown to remonstrate with the fanatics. His mission was successful, and the insurrection was quelled; but Franklin himself had gained many enemies by his action. The people were largely in favor of the Paxton rioters; and the governor, now relieved of his immediate fears, made an infamous proclamation setting a price upon Indian scalps. A strong coalition was formed against Franklin; to the enmity of the proprietary party was now added the distrust of the people.

Just at this time the old trouble between the governor and the Assembly broke out more virulently. Despite the decision of the London Council, the governor vetoed an important bill because the proprietary estates were not exempted from taxation. An angry debate arose in the Assembly as to whether they should petition the king to withdraw Pennsylvania from the proprietaries and make it a crown colony. Franklin took an active part in this contest, and threw all the weight of his authority in favor of the petition; but in the election which followed in 1764 the combination of the aristocrats, who sided with the proprietaries, and of the fanatics, who favored the Paxton uprising, was too strong for him, and he was not returned. After a stormy debate, however, the Assembly adopted the petition; and Franklin, despite the bitter personal attacks of John Dickinson, was chosen as agent to carry the request to England.

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."