The Life of Benjamin Franklin

CHAPTER XLIII

The rest of the acts of doctor Franklin while he resided in France, and the many pleasures he enjoyed there, were first, the great pleasure of announcing to the French court, in 1781, as we have seen, the surrender of lord Cornwallis and his army to general Washington. Second, the still greater pleasure of learning in 1782, that the British ministry were strongly inclined to "a peace talk." Third, 1783, the greatest pleasure of all, the pleasure of burying the tomahawk, by general peace.

Thus after having lived to see completely verified all his awful predictions to the blind and obstinate British cabinet about the result of this disastrous war; with losses indeed, beyond his prediction—the loss of two thousand ships!—the loss of one hundred thousand lives!—the loss of seven hundred millions of dollars! and a loss still greater than all, the loss of the immense continent of North America, and the monopoly of its incalculable produce and trade, shortly to fly on wings of canvass to all parts of the globe.

Having lived to see happily terminated, the grand struggle for American liberty, which even Englishmen have pronounced "the last hope and probable refuge of mankind," and having obtained leave from congress to return, he took a last farewell of his generous Parisian friends, and embarked for his native country.

On the night of the 4th of September, the ship made the light-house at the mouth of the Delaware bay. On coming upon deck next morning, he beheld all in full view and close at hand the lovely shores of America, "where his fathers had dwelt." Who can paint the joy-brightened looks of our veteran patriot, when, after an absence of seven years, he beheld once more that beloved country for whose liberties and morals he had so long contended? Formerly, with an aching heart, he had beheld her as a dear mother, whose fame was tarnished, and her liberties half ravished by foreign lords. But now he greets her as free again, and freed, through heaven's blessing on her own heroic virtue and valour. Crowned thus with tenfold glory, he hails her with transport, as the grand nursery of civil and religious freedom, whose fair example of republican wisdom and moderation is, probably, destined of God to recommend the blessings of free government to all mankind.

The next day in the afternoon he arrived at Philadelphia. It is not for me to describe what he felt in sailing along up these lovely shores, while the heaven within diffused a double brightness and beauty over all the fair and magnificent scenes around. Neither is it for me to delineate the numerous demonstrations of public joy, wherewith the citizens of Philadelphia welcomed the man whom they all delighted to honour. Suffice it to say, that he was landed amidst the firing of cannon—that he was crowded with congratulatory addresses—that he was invited to sumptuous banquets, &c. &c. &c. But though it was highly gratifying to others to see transcendent worth so duly noticed, yet to himself, who had been so long familiar with such honours, they appeared but as baubles that had lost their tinsel.

But there were some pledges of respect offered him, which afforded a heartfelt satisfaction; I mean those numbers of pressing invitations to accept the presidencies of sundry noble institutions for public good, as

  I. A society for diffusing a knowledge of the best politics for our republic.

 II. A society for alleviating the miseries of public prisons.

III. A society for abolishing the slave trade—the relief of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage—and for bettering the condition of the poor blacks.

"It was because," said the trustees, "they well knew he had made it the sole scope of his greatly useful life to promote institutions for the happiness of mankind, that they now solicited the honour and benefit of his special care and guardianship."

Though now almost worn out with the toils of fourscore years, and oftentimes grievously afflicted with his old complaint, the gravel, he yet accepted the proffered appointments with great pleasure, and attended to the duties of them with all the ardour of youth. Thus affording one more proof,

"But though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak." His strength was so sensibly diminished that it could scarcely second his mind, which seemed as unimpaired as ever.

But there was still one more service that his country looked to him for, before he went to rest; I mean that of aiding her councils in the grand convention that was about to sit in Philadelphia for the purpose of framing the present excellent constitution. He was called to this duty in 1787. The speech which he made in that convention has a high claim to our notice, not only because it was the last speech that Dr. Franklin ever made in public; but because nothing ever yet placed in a fairer light the charm of modesty in a great man; and also the force of temperance, exercise and cheerfulness, which could preserve the intellectual faculties in such vigour, to the astonishing age of eighty-two!!

Mr. President,

I do not entirely approve this constitution at present, but, sir, I am not sure I shall never approve it; for, having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged, by better information, to change opinions which I once thought right. It is, therefore, that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. Most men, indeed, as well as most sects of religion, think themselves in possession of all truth, and that whenever others differ from them, it is so far error. Steele, a protestant, tells the pope, that "the only difference between our two churches, in their opinion of the certainty of their doctrines, is, the Romish church is infallible, and the church of England never in the wrong."

But though many private persons think almost as highly of their own infallibility, as of that of their sect, few express it so naturally as a certain French lady, who, in a little dispute with her sister, said, "I don't know how it happens, sister, but I meet with nobody but myself that is always in the right." In these sentiments, sir, I agree to this constitution, with all its faults, if they are such; because I think a general government necessary for us, and there is no form of government but what may be a blessing, if well administered; and I believe farther, that this is likely to be well administered for a course of years, and can only end in despotism, as other forms have done before it, when the people shall become so corrupted, as to need despotic government, being incapable of any other. I doubt too, whether any other convention we can obtain, may be able to make a better constitution. For when you assemble a number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you assemble with those men, all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly, can a perfect production be expected? It therefore astonishes me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think it will confound our enemies, who are waiting with confidence, to hear that our councils are confounded, like those of the builders of Babel, and that our states are on the point of separation, only to meet hereafter for the purpose of cutting each other's throats.

Thus I consent, sir, to this constitution, because I expect no better, and because I am not sure that this is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good. I have never whispered a syllable of them abroad. Within these walls they were born, and here they shall die. If every one of us, in returning to our constituents, were to report the objections he has had to it, and endeavour to gain partisans in support of them, we might prevent its being generally received, and thereby lose all the great advantages resulting naturally in our favour among foreign nations, as well as among ourselves, from our real or apparent unanimity. Much of the efficiency of any government, in procuring and securing happiness to the people, depends on the general opinion of the goodness of that government, as well as of the wisdom and integrity of its governors.

I hope, therefore, that for our own sakes, as a part of the people, and for the sake of our posterity, we shall act heartily and unanimously, in recommending this constitution, wherever our influence may extend, and turn our future thoughts and endeavours to the means of having it well administered.

On the whole, sir, I cannot help expressing a wish, that every member of the convention, who may still have objections, would, with me, on this occasion, doubt a little of his own infallibility, and making manifest our unanimity, put his name to this instrument.

CHAPTER XLIV

The time is now at hand that Franklin must die. When that time approaches, or when only the chilling thought of it strikes the heart, how happy is he who in looking on the withered face or snowy locks of a dear friend, can enjoy the exulting hope that he is prepared for the awful change. This leads us to speak of doctor Franklin on a much higher subject than has yet engaged our attention. I mean his religion.

I have met with nothing in the life of any great man in our country about which there has been such universal inquiry, as about the Religion of Dr. Franklin.

Some, who in despite of Christ and all his apostles, will "judge their brother;" and judge him too by the letter which killeth, will not allow that Dr. Franklin had any religion at all, because, forsooth, he did not believe and "confess Christ before men," in the manner they did. But others, construing the Gospel, as Christ himself commands, by "the spirit;" which teaches that, "with the heart man believeth unto salvation, through love and good works;" and that the right way of "confessing Christ before men" is by a good life.—These gentlemen tell us, that Dr. Franklin not only had religion, but had it in an eminent degree.

Most people seem inclined to judge of Dr. Franklin by these latter commentators, and wind up with the words of our great moral poet.

For my part, after all that I have heard on this subject, and I have heard a great deal, I do not know that I have met with any thing that expresses my opinion of Dr. Franklin's religion more happily than the following laconic remark by one of our most distinguished senators, I mean the honourable Rufus King. Knowing that this gentleman was a compatriot of Dr. Franklin during the revolution, and also sat by his side, a member of the grand Convention in 1788, I took the greater pleasure in asking his opinion of that great man in respect of his religion. "Why, sir," replied he, "my opinion of doctor Franklin has always been, that, although he was not, perhaps, quite so orthodox in some of his notions, he was very much a Christian in his practice. Nor is it indeed to be wondered at," continued this able critic, "that a man of doctor Franklin's extraordinary sagacity, born and brought up under the light of the Gospel, should have imbibed its spirit, and got his whole soul enriched, and as it were interlarded, with its benevolent affections."

And I have since found from conversation with many of our most enlightened and evangelical divines, that they all agree, with Mr. King, that doctor Franklin's extraordinary benevolence and useful life were imbibed, even unconsciously, from the Gospel. For whence but from the luminous and sublime doctrines of that blessed book could he have gained such pure and worthy ideas of God—his glorious unity, and most adorable benevolence: always, himself, loving and doing good to his creatures; and constantly seeking such to worship him? Whence, we ask, could he have got all these exalted truths—truths, so honourable to the Deity—so consolatory to man—so auxiliary of human virtue and happiness—whence could he have got them, but from the light of the Gospel? Certainly, you will not say that he might have got them from the light of nature. For, look around you among all the mighty nations of antiquity. Look among the Egyptians—the Greeks—the Romans, to equal him? Two thousand years have rolled between them and us, and yet the immortal monuments of their arts—their poetry—their painting—their statuary—their architecture—their eloquence—all triumphant over the wreck of time, have come down to our days, boldly challenging the pride of modern genius to produce their parallels. Evidently then, they had among them prodigies of mind equal to our Franklin. And yet how has it yet come to pass, that, with all their astonishing talents, and the light of nature besides, they were so stupidly blind and ignorant of God, while he entertained such exalted ideas of him? That while they, like the modern idolaters of Juggernaut, were disgracing human reason by worshipping not only four-footed beasts and creeping things, but even thieves, murderers, &c. deified, doctor Franklin was elevating his devotions to the one all-perfect God, MOST GLORIOUS IN ALL MORAL EXCELLENCE.

And how has it come to pass that while they, imitating their bloody idols, could take pleasure in sacrificing their prisoners of war! beholding murderous fights of gladiators! and even giving up their own children to be burnt alive! Franklin, by imitating the moral character of God, attained to all that gentle wisdom and affectionate goodness that we fancy when we think of an angel? To what, I ask, can we ascribe all this, but to the very rational cause assigned by Mr. King, viz. his having been born and brought up in a land of Gospel light and love? Indeed, who can read the life of doctor Franklin, attentively, without tracing in it, throughout, that true Christian charity which bound him, as by the heart-strings, to his fellow men—on every occasion going out of self to take an interest in them. "Rejoicing with them, when they acted wisely and attained to honour."—"Weeping with them when they acted foolishly and came to shame." Never meeting with any good fortune, through wise doings of his own, but he made it known to them for their encouragement in similar doings—never falling into misfortunes, by his own folly, but he was sure to publish that too, to deter others from falling into the like sufferings.

Now what was it but this amiable oneness of heart, with his fellow men; this sweet Christian sensibility to their interests and consequent generous delight in doing them good, that filled his life with such noble charities. "Where love is," said the great William Penn, "there is no labour; or if there be, the labour is sweet." And what was it but this, that bore him up so bravely under his many toils and hardships for his selfish brother James?

What made him so liberal of his money and services to the base Collins and Ralph?

What made him so patient and forgiving of the injuries done him by the worthless Keimer and Keith?

What made him so importunate with his young acquaintance in London, to divert them from their brutalizing and fatal intemperance?

What set him so vehemently against pride and extravagance, which besides starving all justice and hospitality among neighbours, tend to make them demons of fraud and cruelty to one another?

What made him, through life, such a powerful orator for industry, frugality, and honesty, which multiplied riches and reciprocal esteem and usefulness among men, and would make them all loving and happy as brothers?

In short, all those labours which doctor Franklin took under the sun—labours so various and unending, for public and private good, such as his fire-engines; his lightning rods; his public libraries; his free schools; his hospitals; his legacies for encouragement of learning, and helping hundreds of indigent young mechanics with money to carry on their trades after his death—whence originated all this, but from that love which is stronger than death, subduing all obstacles, and overleaping the narrow limits of this mortal life?

What but the ingenuity of love, eager to swell the widow's mite of charity into the rich man's talent could have suggested the following curious method of making a little do a great deal of good?

"Received of Benjamin Franklin, ten guineas, which I hereby promise, soon as I get out of my present embarrassments, to lend to some other honest and industrious man, as near as I can guess, he giving his obligation to act in the same way by the next needy honest man; so that by thus going around it may in time, though a small sum, do much good, unless stopped by a thief.

"Passy, Aug. 10, 1773."

What but the noble spirit of that religion whose sole aim is to "overcome evil with good" could have dictated the following instructions to Paul Jones, and his squadron, who after scouring the British channel, was about to make a descent on their coasts.

"As many of your officers and people have lately escaped from English prisons, you are to be particularly attentive to their conduct towards the prisoners you take, lest resentment of the more than barbarous usage which they have received from the English, should occasion a retaliation, and an imitation of what ought rather to be detested and avoided for the sake of humanity and the honour of our country.

"To Commodore P. Jones.

"April 28, 1779."

What but the spirit of that benevolent religion which is the firm patroness of all discoveries for human benefit, could have dictated the ensuing letter "to the commanders of American ships of war," in favour of captain Cook.

"Gentlemen,

"A ship having been fitted out from England, before the commencement of this war, to make discoveries of new countries in unknown seas, under the conduct of that celebrated navigator, captain Cook—an undertaking truly laudable in itself, as the increase of geographical knowledge facilitates the communication between distant nations, and the exchange of useful products and manufactures, and the extension of arts, whereby the common enjoyments of human life are multiplied and augmented, and science of other kinds increased, to the benefit of mankind in general.

"This is, therefore, most earnestly to recommend to every one of you, that in case the said ship, which is now expected to be soon in the European seas, on her return, should happen to fall into your hands, you would not consider her as an enemy, but that you treat the said captain Cook and his people with all civility and kindness, affording them, as common friends to mankind, all the assistance in your power, which they may happen to stand in need of.

"I have the honour to be, &c.

"Passy. near Paris, March 10, 1779."

The truly christian spirit of doctor Franklin, which dictated this passport for captain Cook, was so highly approved by the British government, that, when Cook's voyages in three splendid quarto volumes were printed, the lords of the admiralty sent doctor Franklin a copy accompanied with the elegant plates, and also a gold medal of that illustrious navigator, with a polite letter from lord Howe, informing him that this compliment was made to doctor Franklin with the king's express approbation.

What but the religion that brings life and immortality to light "could have sprung those high hopes and rich consolations," which shine in the following letter from doctor Franklin to his niece, on the death of her father, his favourite brother John Franklin.

"Dear niece,

"I condole with you. We have lost a most dear and valuable relation. But it is the will of God that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to enter into real life. This is rather an embryo state—a preparation for living. A man is not completely born until he be dead. Why then should we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals—a new member added to their society? We are spirits. That bodies should be lent us, while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow creatures, is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for these purposes, and afford us pain instead of pleasure, and answer none of the intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourselves in some cases, prudently choose a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth parts with it freely, since the pain goes with it; and he who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibilities of pains, it was capable of making him suffer.

"Our friend and we were invited abroad on a grand party of pleasure, which is to last for ever. His chair was ready first, and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together; and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know where to find him?

What but that religion which teaches "the price of truth," could have made him so penitent for having said any thing, in his youthful days against revelation? And while the popular infidels of Europe, the Voltaires, and Humes, and Bolingbrokes were so fond of filling the world with their books against Christ, that they might, as one of them said, "crush the wretch," what but a hearty esteem of him could have led Franklin to write the following pious reproof of a gentleman, who having written a pamphlet against christianity, sent it to him, requesting his opinion of it.