Benjamin Franklin

In such a temper was he at this time, and so remained until he got news of the first mutterings of the storm in the colonies. His words show a discouragement and despondency unusual with him; but what attracts remark is the philosophical purpose to make the best even of so bad a business, the hopeless absence of any suggestion of a further opposition, and that his only advice is patient endurance. Unquestionably he did conceive the matter to be for the time settled. The might of England was an awful fact, visible all around him; he felt the tremendous force of the great British people; and he saw their immense resources every day as he walked the streets of busy, prosperous London. As he recalled the infant towns and scattered villages of the colonies, how could he contemplate forcible resistance to an edict of Parliament and the king? Had Otis, Adams, Henry, Gadsden, and the rest seen with their bodily eyes what Franklin was seeing every day, their words might have been more tempered. Even a year later, in talk with a gentleman who said that so far back as 1741 he had expressed an opinion that the colonies "would one day release themselves from England," Franklin answered, "with his earnest, expressive, and intelligent face:" "Then you were mistaken; the Americans have too much love for their mother country;" and he added that "secession was impossible, for all the American towns of importance, Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, were exposed to the English navy. Boston could be destroyed by bombardment." Near the same time he said to Ingersoll of Connecticut, who was about departing for the colonies: "Go home and tell your countrymen to get children as fast as they can." By no means without forebodings for the future, he was yet far from fancying that the time had come when physical resistance was feasible. It seemed still the day for arguments, not for menaces.

To Franklin in this frame of mind, never doubting that the act would be enforced, there was brought a plausible message from Grenville. The minister desired "to make the execution of the act as little inconvenient and disagreeable to America as possible," and to this end he preferred to nominate as stamp distributers "discreet and reputable" residents in the province, rather than to send over strangers from Great Britain. Accordingly he solicited a nomination from Franklin of some "honest and responsible" man in Philadelphia. Franklin readily named a trustworthy merchant of his acquaintance, Mr. Hughes. The Stamp Act itself hardly turned out a greater blunder for Grenville than this well-meant suggestion was near turning out for Franklin. When the Philadelphians got news of the passage of the act, the preparations for its enforcement, the nomination of Mr. Hughes, and the fact that he had been suggested by Franklin, the whole city rose in a wild frenzy of rage. Never was such a sudden change of feeling. He who had been their trusted companion was now loudly reviled as a false and truckling traitor. He was said to have deserted his own, and to have gone over to the minister's side; to have approved the odious law, and to have asked that a position under it might be given to his friend. The mobs ranging the streets threatened to destroy the new house, in which he had left his wife and daughter. The latter was persuaded to seek safety in Burlington; but Mrs. Franklin, with admirable courage, stayed in the house till the danger was over. Some armed friends stood ready to assist if the crisis should come, but fortunately it passed by. All sorts of stories were spread concerning Franklin,—even that it was he who had "planned the Stamp Act;" and that he was endeavoring also to get the Test Act introduced into the colonies! A caricature represented the devil whispering into his ear: "Ben, you shall be my agent throughout my dominions."

Knowing Franklin's frame of mind, it is easy to fancy the surprise with which he learned of the spirit which had blazed forth in the colonies, and of the violent doings in many places; and we may imagine the pain and mortification with which he heard of the opinions expressed by his fellow citizens concerning his own action. He said little at the time, so far as we know; but many years afterwards he gave a narrative of his course in language which was almost apologetic and deprecatory. A pen in his fingers became a sympathetic instrument, and betrays sometimes what his moderate language does not distinctly state. The intense, bitter condemnation vented by his constituents, who so lately had been following his lead, but who now reviled a representative who had misrepresented them in so vital an affair, cut its way deep.

The gap between him and them did indeed seem a wide one. In the colonies there was universal wrath, oftentimes swelling into fury; in some places mobs, much sacking of houses, hangings and burnings in effigy; compulsion put upon king's officers publicly to resign their offices; wild threats and violence; obstruction to the distribution of the stamped paper; open menaces of forcible resistance, even of secession and rebellion; a careful estimating of the available armed forces among the colonies; the proposal for a congress of colonies to promote community of action, to protest, and to consult for the common cause; disobedient resolutions by legislatures; a spreading of the spirit of colonial union by the general cry of "Join or die;" agreements not to import or use articles of English manufacture, with other sunderings of commercial relations. Far behind this mad procession, of which the more moderate divisions were marshaled by Otis, Sam Adams, and Gadsden, and soon also by John Adams and Patrick Henry, and by many other well-known "patriots," Franklin appeared to be a laggard in the rear distance, with disregarded arguments and protests, with words of moderation, even counsels of submission, nay, actually with a sort of connivance in the measure by the nomination of an official under it.

Yet the intervening space was not so great as it appeared. There was nothing in the counsels of the reasonable and intelligent "patriots" which was repugnant to Franklin's opinions. So soon as he saw the ground upon which they had placed themselves, he made haste to come into position with them. It was fortunate indeed that the transient separation was closed again before it could lead to the calamity of his removal from his office. For no man or even combination of men, whom it was possible to send from the provinces, could have done them the services which Franklin was about to render. Besides the general power of his mind, he had peculiar fitnesses. He was widely known and very highly esteemed in England, where he moved in many circles. Among members of the nobility, among men high in office, among members of Parliament, among scientific men and literary men, among men of business and affairs, and among men who made a business of society, he was always welcome. In that city in which dinners constituted so important an element in life, even for the most serious purposes, he was the greatest of diners-out; while at the coffee-houses, clubs, and in the old-fashioned tavern circles no companion was more highly esteemed than he. He consorted not only with friends of the colonies, but was, and for a long time continued to be, on intimate terms of courteous intercourse also with those who were soon to be described as their enemies. Each and all, amid this various and extensive acquaintance, listened to him with a respect no tithe of which could have been commanded by any other American then living. The force of his intelligence, the scope of his understanding, the soundness of his judgment, had already been appreciated by men accustomed to study and to estimate the value of such traits. His knowledge of American affairs, of the trade and business of the provinces, of the characteristics of the people in different parts of the country, was very great, because of his habit of shrewd observation, of his taste for practical matters, and of his extensive travels and connections as postmaster. Add to this that he had a profound affection for the mother country, which was not only a tradition and a habit, but a warm and lively attachment nourished by delightful personal experience, by long residence and numerous friendships, by gratifying appreciation of and compliments to himself. No one could doubt his sincerity when he talked of his love for England as a real and influential sentiment. At the same time he was an American and a patriot. Though he had failed to anticipate the state of feeling which the Stamp Act begot, it was his only failure of this kind; generally he spoke the sentiments of the colonists with entire truth and sympathy. He was one who could combine force with moderation in the expression of his views, the force being all the greater for the moderation; he had an admirable head to conceive an argument, a tongue and pen to state it clearly and pointedly. He had presence of mind in conversation, was ready and quick at fence; he was widely learned; he was a sounder political economist than any member of the English government; above all, he had an unrivaled familiarity with the facts, the arguments, and the people on both sides of the controversy; he kept perfect control of his temper, without the least loss of earnestness; and had the rare faculty of being able to state his own side with plain force, and yet without giving offense. Such were his singular qualifications, which soon enabled him to perform the greatest act of his public life.

Matters came by degrees into better shape for the colonies. In politics any statesman has but to propose a measure to find it opposed by those who oppose him. So what had seemed an universal willingness to levy internal taxes upon the colonies soon lost this aspect. No sooner did the news from the angry colonies bring the scheme into prominence than the assaults upon it became numerous, and enemies of Grenville became friends of America. Arguments so obvious and so strong as those against the measure were eagerly made the most of by the opponents of the men who were in office. Among these opponents was Pitt, that formidable man before whom all trembled. Gout had disabled him, but who could tell when he might get sufficient respite to return and deal havoc? Yet in spite of all that was said, the ministry seemed impregnable. Grenville was very able, always of a stubborn temper, and in this especial case convinced to the point of intensity that the right lay with him; moreover, he was complete master in Parliament, where his authority seemed still to increase steadily. No man was sanguine enough to see hope for the colonies, when suddenly an occurrence, which in this age could not appreciably affect the power of an English premier, snapped Grenville's sway in a few days. This was only the personal pique of the king, irritated by complaints made by the Duke of Bedford about the favorite, Bute. For such a cause George III. drove out of office, upon grounds of his own dislike, a prime minister and cabinet with whom he was in substantial accord upon the most important public matters then under consideration, and although it was almost impossible to patch together any tolerably congruous or competent body of successors.

Pitt endeavored to form a cabinet, but was obliged, with chagrin, to confess his inability. At last the Duke of Cumberland succeeded in forming the so-called Rockingham Cabinet, a weak combination, but far less unfavorable than its predecessor towards America. The Marquis of Rockingham, as prime minister, had Edmund Burke as his private secretary; while General Conway, one of the very few who had opposed the Stamp Act, now actually received the southern department of state within which the colonies were included. Still there seemed little hope for any undoing of the past, which probably would never have been wrung from this or any British ministry so long as all the discontent was on the other side of three thousand miles of ocean. But this was ceasing to be the case. The American weapon of non-importation was proving most efficient. In the provinces the custom of wearing mourning was abandoned; no one killed or ate lamb, to the end that by the increase of sheep the supply of wool might be greater; homespun was now the only wear; no man would be seen clad in English cloth. In a word, throughout America there was established what would now be called a thorough and comprehensive "boycott" against all articles of English manufacture. So very soon the manufacturers of the mother country began to find themselves the only real victims of the Stamp Act. In America it was inflicting no harm, but rather was encouraging economy, enterprise, and domestic industry; while the sudden closing of so enormous a market brought loss and bankruptcy to many an English manufacturer and warehouseman. Shipping, too, was indirectly affected. An outcry for the change of a disastrous policy swelled rapidly in the manufacturing and trading towns; and erelong the battle of the colonists was being fought by allies upon English soil, who were stimulated by the potent impulse of self-preservation. These men cared nothing for the principle at stake, nothing for the colonists personally; but they cared for the business by which they sustained their own homes, and they were resolved that the destroying Stamp Act should be got out of their way. Such an influence was soon felt. Death also came in aid of the Americans, removing in good time the Duke of Cumberland, the merciless conqueror of Culloden, who now was all ready to fight it out with the colonies, and only thus lost the chance to do so.

Beneath the pressure of these events concession began to be talked of, though at first of course its friends were few and its enemies many. Charles Townshend announced himself able to contemplate with equanimity the picture of the colonies relapsing "to their primitive deserts." But the trouble was that little deserts began to spot the face of England; and still the British merchant, who seldom speaks long in vain, was increasing his clamor, and did not fancy the prospect of rich trading fields reduced to desolation. In January, 1766, too, the dreaded voice of Pitt again made itself heard in St. Stephen's, sending forth an eloquent harangue for America: "The Americans are the sons, not the bastards, of England. As subjects they are entitled to the common right of representation, and cannot be bound to pay taxes without their consent. Taxation is no part of the governing power.[18] The taxes are a voluntary gift and grant by the Commons alone. In an American tax what do we do? We, your Majesty's Commons of Great Britain, give and grant to your Majesty—what? Our own property? No! we give and grant to your Majesty the property of your Majesty's commons in America. It is an absurdity in terms."[19] "The idea of a virtual representation of America in this House is the most contemptible that ever entered into the head of man." "I never shall own the justice of taxing America internally until she enjoys the right of representation." Not very many men in either house of Parliament would go the full logical length of Pitt's argument; but men who held views quite opposite to his as to the lawful authority of Parliament to lay this tax were beginning to feel that they must join him in getting it out of the way of domestic prosperity in England. It seemed to them a mistaken exercise of an unquestionable right. They were prepared to correct the mistake, which could be done without abandoning the right.

As this feeling visibly gained ground the ministry gathered courage to consider the expediency of introducing a bill to repeal the act. Could the king have had his way they would not have survived in office to do so. He would have had their ministerial heads off, as he had stricken those of their immediate predecessors. But efforts which he made to find successors for them were fruitless, and so they remained in places which no others could be induced to fill. Pitt was sounded, to see whether he would ally himself with them; but he would not. Had he been gained the fight would not have come simply upon the repeal of the act as unsatisfactory, but as being contrary to the constitution of England. The narrower battle-ground was selected by Rockingham.

The immediate forerunner in Parliament of the repeal of the Stamp Act was significant. A resolution was introduced into the House of Lords, February 3, 1766, that the "king in Parliament has full power to bind the colonies and people of America in all cases whatsoever." The debate which followed showed what importance this American question had assumed in England; the expression of feeling was intense, the display of ability very great. Lord Camden and Lord Mansfield encountered each other; but the former, with the best of the argument, had much the worst of the division. One hundred and twenty-five peers voted for the resolution, only five against it. In the Commons, Pitt assailed the resolution, with no better success than had attended Camden. No one knew how many voted Nay, but it was "less than ten voices, some said five or four, some said but three."[20] Immediately after this assertion of a principle, the same Parliament prepared to set aside the only application of it which had ever been attempted. It was well understood that the repeal of the Stamp Act was close at hand.

It was at this juncture that Franklin, who had been by no means idle during the long struggle, appeared as a witness in that examination which perhaps displayed his ability to better advantage than any other single act in his life. It was between February 3 and 13, 1766, that he and others were summoned to give testimony concerning the colonies at the bar of the House of Commons sitting in committee of the whole. The others have been forgotten, but his evidence never will be. The proceeding was striking; there were some of the cleverest and most experienced men in England to question him; no one of them singly was his match; but there were many of them, and they conducted an examination and a cross-examination both in one; that is to say, those who wished to turn a point against him might at any moment interpose with any question which might suddenly confuse or mislead him. But no man was ever better fitted than Franklin to play the part of a witness, and no record in politics or in law can compare with the report of his testimony. Some persons have endeavored to account for, which means of course to detract from, its extraordinary merit by saying that some of the questions and replies had been prearranged; but it does not appear that such prearrangement went further than that certain friendly interrogators had discussed the topics with him so as to be familiar with his views. Every lawyer does this with his witnesses. Nor can it be supposed that the admirable replies which he made to the enemies of America were otherwise than strictly impromptu. He had thorough knowledge of the subject; he was in perfect control of his head and his temper; his extraordinary faculty for clear and pithy statement never showed to better advantage; he was, as always, moderate and reasonable; but above all the wonderful element was the quick wit and ready skill with which he turned to his own service every query which was designed to embarrass him; and this he did not in the vulgar way of flippant retort or disingenuous twistings of words or facts, but with the same straightforward and tranquil simplicity of language with which he delivered evidence for the friendly examiners. Burke likened the proceeding to an examination of a master by a parcel of schoolboys.

Franklin used to say, betwixt plaint and humor, that it always seemed to him that no one ever gave an abbreviation or an abstract of anything which he had written, without very nearly spoiling the original. This would be preëminently true of an abstract of this examination; abbreviation can be only mutilation. It ranged over a vast ground,—colonial history and politics, political economy, theories and practice in colonial trade, colonial commerce and industry, popular opinions and sentiment, and the probabilities of action in supposed cases. His answers made a great stir; they were universally admitted to have substantially advanced the day of repeal. They constituted the abundant armory to which the friends of the colonies resorted for weapons offensive and defensive, for facts and for ideas. He himself, with just complacency, remarked: "The then ministry was ready to hug me for the assistance I afforded them." The "Gentleman's Magazine" said:—

Like praises descended from every quarter.

One interesting fact clearly appears from this examination: that Franklin now fully understood the colonial sentiment, and was thoroughly in accord with it. Being asked whether the colonists "would submit to the Stamp Act, if it were modified, the obnoxious parts taken out, and the duty reduced to some particulars of small moment," he replied with brief decision: "No, they will never submit to it." As to how they would receive "a future tax imposed on the same principle," he said, with the same forcible brevity: "Just as they do this: they would not pay it." Q. "Can anything less than a military force carry the Stamp Act into execution? A. I do not see how a military force can be applied to that purpose. Q. Why may it not? A. Suppose a military force sent into America, they will find nobody in arms. What are they then to do? They cannot force a man to take stamps who chooses to do without them. They will not find a rebellion; they may indeed make one. Q. If the act is not repealed, what do you think will be the consequences? A. A total loss of the respect and affection the people of America bear to this country, and of all the commerce that depends on that respect and affection. Q. How can the commerce be affected? A. You will find that if the act is not repealed, they will take a very little of your manufactures in a short time. Q. Is it in their power to do without them? A. The goods they take from Britain are either necessaries, mere conveniences, or superfluities. The first, as cloth, etc., with a little industry they can make at home; the second they can do without until they are able to provide them among themselves; and the last, which are much the greatest part, they will strike off immediately." This view of the willingness and capacity of the colonists to forego English importations he elsewhere elaborated fully. The English merchants knew to their cost that he spoke the truth.

With reference to the enforcement of claims in the courts, he was asked whether the people would not use the stamps "rather than remain ... unable to obtain any right or recover by law any debt?" He replied: "It is hard to say what they would do. 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 would rather they should remain unrecoverable by any law than submit to the Stamp Act."

A few weeks later he wrote: "I have some little property in America. I will freely spend nineteen shillings in the pound to defend my right of giving or refusing the other shilling. And, after all, if I cannot defend that right, I can retire cheerfully with my family into the boundless woods of America, which are sure to afford freedom and subsistence to any man who can bait a hook or pull a trigger." The picture of Dr. Franklin, the philosopher, at the age of sixty-one, "cheerfully" sustaining his family in the wilderness by the winnings of his rod and his rifle stirs one's sense of humor; but the paragraph indicates that he was in strict harmony with his countrymen, who were expressing serious resolution with some rhetorical exaggeration, in the American fashion.

The main argument of the colonies, that under the British constitution there could be no taxation without representation, was of course introduced into the examination; and Franklin seized the occasion to express his theory very ingeniously. Referring to the fact that, by the Declaration of Rights, no money could "be raised on the subject but by consent of Parliament," the subtle question was put: How the colonists could think that they themselves had a right to levy money for the crown? Franklin replied: "They understand that clause to relate only to subjects within the realm; that no money can be levied on them for the crown but by consent of Parliament. The colonies are not supposed to be within the realm; they have assemblies of their own, which are their parliaments." This was a favorite theory with him, in expounding which he likened the colonies to Ireland, and to Scotland before the union. Many sentences to the same purport occur in his writings; for example: "These writers against the colonies all bewilder themselves by supposing the colonies within the realm, which is not the case, nor ever was." "If an Englishman goes into a foreign country, he is subject to the laws and government he finds there. If he finds no government or laws there, he is subject there to none, till he and his companions, if he has any, make laws for themselves; and this was the case of the first settlers in America. Otherwise, if they carried the English laws and power of Parliament with them, what advantage could the Puritans propose to themselves by going?" "The colonists carried no law with them; they carried only a power of making laws, or adopting such parts of the English law or of any other law as they should think suitable to their circumstances."[21] Radical doctrines these, which he could not reasonably expect would find favor under any principles of government then known in the world. To the like effect were other assertions of his, made somewhat later: "In fact, the British Empire is not a single state; it comprehends many." "The sovereignty of the crown I understand. The sovereignty of the British legislature out of Britain I do not understand." "The king, and not the King, Lords, and Commons collectively, is their sovereign; and the king with their respective parliaments is their only legislator."[22] "The Parliament of Great Britain has not, never had, and of right never can have, without consent given either before or after, power to make laws of sufficient force to bind the subjects of America in any case whatever, and particularly in taxation." The singular phrase "the subjects of America" is worth noting. In 1769, still reiterating the same principle, he said: "We are free subjects of the king; and fellow subjects of one part of his dominions are not sovereigns over fellow subjects in any other part."

It is a singular fact that Franklin long cherished a personal regard towards the king, and a faith in his friendly and liberal purposes towards the colonies. Indignation against the Parliament was offset by confidence in George III. Even so late as the spring of 1769, he writes to a friend in America: "I hope nothing that has happened, or may happen, will diminish in the least our loyalty to our sovereign, or affection for this nation in general. I can scarcely conceive a king of better disposition, of more exemplary virtues, or more truly desirous of promoting the welfare of all his subjects. The experience we have had of the family in the two preceding mild reigns, and the good temper of our young princes, so far as can yet be discovered, promise us a continuance of this felicity." Of the British people too he thought kindly. But for the Parliament he could find no excuse. He admitted that it might be "decent" indeed to speak in the "public papers" of the "wisdom and the justice of Parliament;" nevertheless, the ascription of these qualities to the present Parliament certainly was not true, whatever might be the case as to any future one. The next year found him still counseling that the colonies should hold fast to their allegiance to their king, who had the best disposition towards them, and was their most efficient bulwark against "the arbitrary power of a corrupt Parliament." In the summer of 1773, he was seeking excuses for the king's adherence to the principle that Parliament could legally tax the colonies: "when one considers the king's situation," with all his ministers, advisers, judges, and the great majority of both houses holding this view, when "one reflects how necessary it is for him to be well with his Parliament," and that any action of his countenancing a doctrine contrary to that of both the Lords and the Commons "would hazard his embroiling himself with those powerful bodies," Franklin was of opinion that it seemed "hardly to be expected from him that he should take any step of that kind." But this was the last apology which he uttered for George III. He was about to reach the same estimation of that monarch which has been adopted by posterity. Only a very little later he writes: "Between you and me, the late measures have been, I suspect, very much the king's own, and he has in some cases a great share of what his friends call firmness." Thus tardily, reluctantly, and at first gently, the kindly philosopher began to admit to himself and others the truth as to his Majesty's disposition and character.

Some persons in England, affected by the powerful argument of non-representation, proposed that the colonies should be represented in Parliament; and about the time of the Stamp Act the possibility of such an arrangement was seriously discussed. Franklin was willing to speak kindly of a plan which was logically unobjectionable, and which involved the admission that the existing condition was unjust; but he knew very well that it would never develop into a practicable solution of the problem, and in fact it soon dropped out of men's minds. January 6, 1766, he wrote that in his opinion the measure of an Union, as he shrewdly called it, was a wise one; "but," he said, "I doubt it will hardly be thought so here until it is too late to attempt it. The time has been when the colonies would have esteemed it a great advantage, as well as honor, to be permitted to send members to Parliament, and would have asked for that privilege if they could have had the least hopes of obtaining it. The time is now come when they are indifferent about it, and will probably not ask it, though they might accept it, if offered them; and the time will come when they will certainly refuse it. But if such an Union were now established (which methinks it highly imports this country to establish), it would probably subsist so long as Britain shall continue a nation. This people, however, is too proud, and too much despises the Americans to bear the thought of admitting them to such an equitable participation in the government of the whole."[23]

Haughty words these, though so tranquilly spoken, and which must have startled many a dignified Briton: behold! a mere colonist, the son of a tallow chandler, is actually declaring that those puny colonies of simple "farmers, husbandmen, and planters" were already "indifferent" about, and would soon feel in condition to "refuse," representation in such a body as the Parliament of England; also that it "highly imported" Great Britain to seek amalgamation while yet it could be had! But Franklin meant what he said, and he repeated it more than once, very earnestly. He resented that temper, of which he saw so much on every side, and which he clearly described by saying that every individual in England felt himself to be "part of a sovereign over America."

Men of a different habit of mind of course reiterated the shallow and threadbare nonsense about "virtual," or as it would be called nowadays constructive, representation of the colonies, likening them to Birmingham, Manchester, and other towns which sent no members to Parliament—as if problems in politics followed the rule of algebra, that negative quantities, multiplied, produce a positive quantity. But Franklin concerned himself little about this unreasonable reasoning, which indeed soon had an effect eminently disagreeable to the class of men who stupidly uttered it. For it was promptly replied that if there were such large bodies of unrepresented Englishmen, it betokened a wrong state of affairs in England also. If English freeholders have not the right of suffrage, said Franklin, "they are injured. Then rectify what is amiss among yourselves, and do not make it a justification of more wrong."[24] Thus that movement began which in time brought about parliamentary reform, another result of this American disturbance which was extremely distasteful to that stratum of English society which was most strenuous against the colonists.

Still another point which demanded elucidation was, why Parliament should not have the power to lay internal taxes just as much as to levy duties. Grenville said: "External and internal taxes are the same in effect, and only differ in name;" and the authority of Parliament to lay external taxes had never been called in question. Franklin's examiners tried him upon this matter: Can you show that there is any kind of difference between the two taxes, to the colony on which they are laid? He answered: "I think the difference is very great. An external tax is a duty laid on commodities imported; that duty is added to the first cost and other charges on the commodity, and, when it is offered for sale, makes a part of the price. If the people do not like it at that price, they refuse it; they are not obliged to pay for it. But an internal tax is forced from the people without their consent, if not laid by their own representatives. The Stamp Act says, we shall have no commerce, make no exchange of property with each other, neither purchase, nor grant, nor recover debts; we shall neither marry nor make our wills; unless we pay such and such sums." It was suggested that an external tax might be laid on the necessaries of life, which the people must have; but Franklin said that the colonies were, or very soon would be, in a position to produce for themselves all necessaries. He was then asked what was the difference "between a duty on the importation of goods and an excise on their consumption?" He replied that there was a very material one; the excise, for reasons given, seemed unlawful. "But the sea is yours; you maintain by your fleets the safety of navigation in it, and keep it clear of pirates; you may have, therefore, a natural and equitable right to some toll or duty on merchandises carried through that part of your dominions, towards defraying the expense you are at in ships to maintain the safety of that carriage." This was a rather narrow basis on which to build the broad and weighty superstructure of the British Custom House; but it was not to be expected that Franklin should supply any better arguments upon that side of the question. It was obvious that Grenville's proposition might lead to two conclusions. He said: External and internal taxation are in principle substantially identical; we have the right to the former; therefore we must have the right to the latter. It was a quick reply: Since you have not a right to the latter, you cannot have a right to the former. But Franklin, being a prudent man, kept within his intrenchments, and would not hazard increasing the opposition to the colonial claims by occupying this advanced ground. He hinted at it, nevertheless: "At present the colonists do not reason so; but in time they possibly may be convinced by these arguments;" and so they were.

Franklin also in his examination, and at many other times and places, had something to say as to the willingness of the colonies to bear their full share of public burdens. He spoke with warmth and feeling, but with an entire absence of boastfulness or rodomontade. He achieved his purpose by simply recalling such facts as that the colonies in the late war had kept 25,000 troops in the field; that they had raised sums of money so large that even the English Parliament had seen that they were exceeding any reasonable estimate of their capacity, and had voted some partial restitution to them; and that they had received thanks, official and formal yet apparently sincere, for their zeal and their services. Few Englishmen knew these things. So, too, he said, the Americans would help the mother country in an European war, so far as they could; for they regarded themselves as a part of the empire, and really had an affection and loyalty towards England.

On February 21, 1766, General Conway moved for leave to introduce into the House of Commons a bill to repeal the Stamp Act. The motion was carried. The next day the House divided upon the repealing bill: 275 for repeal, 167 against it. The minority were willing greatly to modify the act; but insisted upon its enforcement in some shape. The anxious merchants, who were gathered in throngs outside, and who really had brought about the repeal, burst into jubilant rejoicing. A few days later, March 4 and 5, the bill took its third reading by a vote of 250 yeas against 122 nays. In the House of Lords, upon the second reading, 73 peers voted for repeal, 61 against it. Thirty-three peers thereupon signed and recorded their protest. At the third reading no division was had, but a second protest, bearing 28 signatures, was entered. On March 18 the king, whose position had been a little enigmatical, but who at last had become settled in opposition to the bill, unwillingly placed his signature to it, and ever after regretted having done so.

When the good news reached the provinces great indeed was the gladness of the people. They heeded little that simultaneously with the repeal a resolve had been carried through declaratory of the principle on which the Stamp Act had been based. The assertion of the right gave them at this moment "very little concern," since they hugged a triumphant belief that no further attempt would be made to carry that right into practice. The people of Philadelphia seemed firmly persuaded that the repeal was chiefly due to the unwearied personal exertions of their able agent. They could not recall their late distrust of him without shame, and now replaced it with boundless devotion. In the great procession which they made for the occasion "the sublime feature was a barge, forty feet long, named FRANKLIN, from which salutes were fired as it passed along the streets."[25] That autumn the old ticket triumphed again at the elections for members of the Assembly. Franklin's own pleasant way of celebrating the great event was by sending to his wife "a new gown," with the message, referring, of course, to the anti-importation league: that he did not send it sooner, because he knew that she would not like to be finer than her neighbors, unless in a gown of her own spinning.

No American will find it difficult to conceive the utter ignorance concerning the colonies which then prevailed in England; about their trade, manufactures, cultivated products, natural resources, about the occupations, habits, manners, and ideas of their people, not much more was known than Americans now know concerning the boers of Cape Colony or the settlers of New Zealand. In his examination before the Commons, in many papers which he printed, by his correspondence, and by his conversation in all the various companies which he frequented, Franklin exerted himself with untiring industry to shed some rays into this darkness. At times the comical stories which he heard about his country touched his sense of humor, with the happy result that he would throw off some droll bit of writing for a newspaper, which would delight the friends of America and make its opponents feel very silly even while they could not help laughing at his wit. A good one of these was the paper in which he replied, among other things, to the absurd supposition that the Americans could not make their own cloth, because American sheep had little wool, and that little of poor quality: "Dear sir, do not let us suffer ourselves to be amused with such groundless objections. The very tails of the American sheep are so laden with wool that each has a little car or wagon on four little wheels to support and keep it from trailing on the ground. Would they caulk their ships, would they even litter their horses, with wool, if it were not both plenty and cheap? And what signifies the dearness of labor when an English shilling passes for five and twenty?" and so on. It is pleasant to think that then, as now, many a sober Britisher, with no idea that a satirical jest at his own expense was hidden away in this extravagance, took it all for genuine earnest, and was sadly puzzled at a condition of things so far removed from his own experience.

Very droll is the account of how nearly a party of clever Englishmen were taken in by the paper which purported to advance the claim of the king of Prussia to hold England as a German province, and to levy taxes therein, supported by precisely the same chain of reasoning whereby Britain claimed the like right in respect of the American colonies. This keen and witty satire had a brilliant success, and while Franklin prudently kept his authorship a close secret, he was not a little pleased to see how well his dart flew. In one of his letters he says:—

Then, amid much laughter, it was admitted to be "a fair hit." Of a like nature was his paper setting out "Rules for reducing a great Empire to a small one," which prescribed with admirable satire such a course of procedure as English ministries had pursued towards the American provinces. Lord Mansfield honored it with his condemnation, saying that it was "very able and very artful indeed; and would do mischief by giving here a bad impression of the measures of government."

Yet this English indifference to transatlantic facts could not always be met in a laughing mood. It was too serious, too unfortunate, too obstinately persisted in to excite only ridicule. It was deplorable, upon the very verge of war, and incredible too, after all the warnings that had been had, that there should be among Englishmen such an utter absence of any desire to get accurate knowledge. In 1773 Franklin wrote: "The great defect here is, in all sorts of people, a want of attention to what passes in such remote countries as America; an unwillingness to read anything about them, if it appears a little lengthy; and a disposition to postpone a consideration even of the things which they know they must at last consider." Such ignorance, fertilized by ill will, bore the only fruit which could grow in such soil: abuse and vilification. Yet all the while the upper classes in France, with their eyes well open to a condition of things which seemed to threaten England, were keen enough in their desire for knowledge, translating all Franklin's papers, and keeping up constant communication with him through their embassy. Patient in others of those faults of vehemence and prejudice which had no place in his own nature, Franklin endured long the English provocations and retorted only with a wit too perfect to be personal, with unanswerable arguments, and with simple recitals of facts. But we shall see, later on, that there came an occasion, just before his departure, when even his temper gave way. It was not surprising, for the blood-letting point had then been reached by both peoples.

Franklin's famous examination and his other efforts in behalf of the colonies were appreciated by his countrymen outside of Pennsylvania. He was soon appointed agent also for New Jersey, Georgia, and Massachusetts. The last office was conferred upon him in the autumn of 1770, by no means without a struggle. Samuel Adams, a man as narrow as Franklin was broad, as violent as Franklin was calm, as bigoted a Puritan as Franklin was liberal a Free-thinker, felt towards Franklin that distrust and dislike which a limited but intense mind often cherishes towards an intellect whose vast scope and noble serenity it cannot comprehend. Adams accordingly strenuously opposed the appointment. It was plausibly suggested that Franklin already held other agencies, and that policy would advise "to enlarge the number of our friends." It was meanly added that he held an office under the crown, and that his son was a royal governor. Other ingenious, insidious, and personal objections were urged. Fortunately, however, it was in vain to array such points against Franklin's reputation. Samuel Cooper wrote to him that, though the House had certainly been much divided, "yet such was their opinion of your abilities and integrity, that a majority readily committed the affairs of the province at this critical season to your care." By reason of this combination of agencies, besides his own personal capacity and prestige, Franklin seemed to become in the eyes of the English the representative of all America. In spite of the unpopularity attaching to the American cause, the position was one of some dignity, greatly enhanced by the respect inspired by the ability with which Franklin filled it, ability which was recognized no less by the enemies than by the friends of the provinces. It was also a position of grave responsibility; and it ought to have been one of liberal emolument, but it was not. The sum of his four salaries should have been £1200; but only Pennsylvania and New Jersey actually paid him. Massachusetts would have paid, but the bills making the appropriations were obstinately vetoed by the royalist governor.[26]

Yet this matter of income was important to him, and it was at no slight personal sacrifice that he was now serving his country. He had a moderate competence, but his expenses were almost doubled by living thus apart from his family, while his affairs suffered by reason of his absence. For a while he was left unmolested in the post-mastership, and in view of all the circumstances it must be confessed that the ministry behaved very well to him in this particular. Rumors which occasionally reached his ears made him uncomfortably aware how precarious his tenure of this position really was. His prolonged absence certainly gave an abundantly fair pretext for his removal; still advantage was not taken of it. Some of his enemies, as he wrote in December, 1770, by plentiful abuse endeavored to provoke him to resign; but they found him sadly "deficient in that Christian virtue of resignation." It was not until 1774, after the episode of the Hutchinson letters and the famous hearing before the privy council, that he was actually displaced. If this forbearance of the ministry was attributable to magnanimity, it stands out in prominent inconsistence with the general course of official life in England at that time. Probably no great injustice would be done in suggesting a baser motive. The ministry doubtless aimed at one or both of two things: to keep a certain personal hold upon him, which might, insensibly to himself, mollify his actions; and to discredit him among his countrymen by precisely such fleers as had been cast against him in the Massachusetts Assembly. More than once they sought to seduce him by offers of office; it was said that he could have been an under-secretary of state, had he been willing to qualify himself for the position by modifying his views on colonial questions. More than once, too, gossip circulated in America that some such bargain had been struck, a slander which was cruel and ignoble indeed, when the opportunity and temptation may be said to have been present any and every day during many years without ever receiving even a moment of doubtful consideration. Yet for this the English ministry are believed not to have been wholly responsible, since some of these tales are supposed to have been the unworthy work of Arthur Lee of Virginia. This young man, a student at one of the Inns of Court in London, was appointed by the Massachusetts Assembly as a successor to fill Franklin's place whenever the latter should return to Pennsylvania. For at the time it was anticipated that this return would soon occur; but circumstances interfered and prolonged Franklin's usefulness abroad during several years more. The heir apparent, who was ambitious, could not brook the disappointment of this delay; and though kindly treated and highly praised by the unsuspicious Franklin, he gave nothing but malice in return. It is perhaps not fully proved, yet it is certainly well suspected by historians, that his desire to wreak injury upon Franklin became such a passion as caused him in certain instances to forget all principles of honor, to say nothing of honesty.

CHAPTER VI

SECOND MISSION TO ENGLAND, II

In order to continue the narrative of events with due regard to chronological order it is necessary to revert to the repeal of the Stamp Act. The repealing act was fully as unpopular in England as the repealed act had been in America. It was brought about by no sense of justice, by no good will toward the colonists, but solely by reason of the injury which the law was causing in England, and which was forced upon the reluctant consideration of Parliament by the urgent clamor of the suffering merchants; also perhaps in some degree by a disinclination to send an army across the Atlantic, and by the awkward difficulty suggested by Franklin when he said that if troops should be sent they would find no rebellion, no definite form of resistance, against which they could act. The repeal, therefore, though carried by a large majority, was by no means to be construed as an acknowledgment of error in an asserted principle, but only as an unavoidable admission of a mistake in the application of that principle. The repealing majority grew out of a strange coalition of men of the most opposite ways of thinking concerning the fundamental question. For example, Charles Townshend was a repealer, yet all England did not hold a man who was more wedded than was Townshend to the idea of levying internal taxes in the colonies by act of Parliament. The notion had been his own mischievous legacy to Grenville, but he now felt that it had been clumsily used by his legatee. Many men agreed with him, and the prevalence of this opinion was made obvious by the passage, almost simultaneously, of the resolution declaratory of the right of parliamentary taxation. But the solace of an empty assertion was wholly inadequate to heal the deep wound which English pride had received. The great nation had been fairly hounded into receding before the angry resistance of a parcel of provincials dwelling far away across the sea; the recession was not felt to be an act of magnanimity or generosity or even of justice, but only a bitter humiliation and indignity. Poor Grenville, the responsible adviser of the blundering and unfortunate measure, lost almost as much prestige as Franklin gained. It was hard luck for him; he was as honest in his convictions as Franklin was in the opposite faith, and he was a far abler minister than the successor charged to undo his work. But his knowledge of colonial facts was very insufficient, and the light in which he viewed them was hopelessly false. Franklin had a knowledge immeasurably greater, and was almost incapable of an error of judgment; of all the reputation which was won or lost in this famous contest he gathered the lion's share; he was the hero of the colonists; his ability was recognized impartially by both the contending parties in England, and he was marked as a great man by those astute French statesmen who were watching with delight the opening of this very promising rift in the British Empire.

Anger, like water, subsides quickly after the tempest ceases. As each day in its flight carried the Stamp Act and the repeal more remotely into past history, the sanguine and peaceably minded began to hope that England and the colonies might yet live comfortably in union. It only seemed necessary that for a short time longer no fresh provocation should revive animosities which seemed composing themselves to slumber. The colonists tried to believe that England had learned wisdom; Englishmen were cautious about committing a second blunder. In such a time Franklin was the best man whom his countrymen could have had in England. His tranquil temperament, his warm regard for both sides, his wonderful capacity for living well with men who could by no means live well with each other, his social tact, and the respect which his abilities inspired, all combined to enable him now more than ever to fill admirably the position of colonial representative. The effect of such an influence is not to be seen in any single noteworthy occurrence, but is known by a thousand lesser indications, and it is unquestionable that no American representative even to this day has ever been held in Europe in such estimation as was accorded to Franklin at this time. He continued writing and instructing upon American topics, but to what has already been said concerning his services and opinions abroad, there is nothing of importance to be added occurring within two or three years after the repeal. While, however, he played the often thankless part of instructor to the English, he had the courage to assume the even less popular rôle of a moderator towards the colonists. He made it his task to soothe passion and to preach reason. He did not do this as a trimmer; never was one word of compromise uttered by him throughout all these alarming years. But he dreaded that weakness which is the inevitable reaction from excess; and he was supremely anxious to secure that trustworthy strength which is impossible without moderation. What he profoundly wished was that the "fatal period" of war and separation should be as much as possible "postponed, and that whenever this catastrophe shall happen it may appear to all mankind that the fault has not been ours." Yet he fell far short of the Christian principle of turning to the smiter the other cheek. He wished the colonists to keep a steady front face, and only besought them not to rush forward so foolishly fast as to topple over, of which ill-considered violence there was much danger. Of course the usual result of such efforts overtook him. He wrote somewhat sadly, in 1768: "Being born and bred in one of the countries, and having lived long and made many agreeable connections of friendship in the other, I wish all prosperity to both; but I have talked and written so much and so long on the subject, that my acquaintance are weary of hearing and the public of reading any more of it, which begins to make me weary of talking and writing; especially as I do not find that I have gained any point in either country, except that of rendering myself suspected by my impartiality;—in England of being too much an American, and in America of being too much an Englishman." More than once he repeated this last sentence with much feeling. But whatever there was of personal discouragement or despondency in this letter was only a temporary frame of mind. Dr. Franklin never really slackened his labors in a business which he had so much at heart as this of the relationship of the colonies to the mother country. Neither, it is safe to say, did he ever bore any one by what he wrote or by what he said, though his witty effusions in print were usually anonymous, and only some of his soberer and argumentative papers announced their paternity.

The agony with which the repeal of the Stamp Act was effected racked too severely the feeble joints of the Rockingham ministry, and that ill-knit body soon began to drop to pieces. A new incumbent was sought for the department which included the colonies, but that position seemed to be shunned with a sort of terror; no one loved office enough to seek it in this niche; no one could expect comfort in a chamber haunted by such restless ghosts. Early in July, at the earnest solicitation of the king, Pitt endeavored not so much to form a new ministry as to revamp the existing one. He partially succeeded, but not without difficulty. The result seemed to promise well for the colonies, since the new cabinet contained their chief friends: Pitt himself, Shelburne, Camden, Conway, names all justly esteemed by America. Yet all these were fully offset by the audacious Charles Townshend, the originator and great apostle of the scheme of colonial taxation, whom Pitt, much against his will, had been obliged to place in the perilous post of chancellor of the exchequer. It was true that Lord Shelburne undertook the care of the colonies, and that no Englishman cherished better dispositions towards them; but he had to encounter two difficulties, neither of which could be overcome. The one was that Townshend's views were those which soon proved not only to be coincident with those of the king, but also to be popular in Parliament; the other was that, while he had the administration of colonial affairs, Townshend had the function of introducing schemes of taxation. So long as he remained in office he administered all the business of the colonies in the spirit of liberal reform. No reproach was ever brought against his justice, his generosity, his enlightened views of government. But unfortunately all that he had to do, being strictly in the way of administration, such as the restraining over-loyal governors, the amelioration of harsh legislation, and universal moderation in language and behavior, could avail comparatively little so long as Townshend, whom Pitt used to call "the incurable," could threaten and bring in obnoxious revenue measures.

Shelburne had the backing of Pitt; but, by ill luck, so soon as the cabinet was formed, Pitt ceased to be Pitt, and became the Earl of Chatham; and with the loss of his own name he lost also more than half of his power. Moreover the increasing infirmities of his body robbed him of efficiency and impaired his judgment. He was utterly unable to keep in subordination his reckless chancellor of the exchequer, betwixt whom and himself no good will had ever existed. On the other hand, this irrepressible Townshend had a far better ally in George III., who sympathized in his purposes, gave him assistance which was none the less powerful for being indirect and occult, and who hated and ingeniously thwarted Shelburne. Moreover, as has been said, it was a popular delusion that Townshend had exceptionally full and accurate knowledge concerning American affairs. His self-confident air, making assurance of success, won for him one half of the battle by so sure a presage of victory. He lured the members of the House by showing them a considerable remission in their own taxes, provided they would stand by his scheme of replacing the deficit by an income from the colonies; and he boldly assured his delighted auditors that he knew "the mode by which a revenue could be drawn from America without offense." He was of the thoughtless class which learns no lesson. He still avowed himself "a firm advocate of the Stamp Act," and with cheerful scorn he "laughed at the absurd distinction between internal and external taxes." He did not expect, he merrily said, alluding to the distinction just conferred upon Chatham, to have his statue erected in America. The reports of his speeches kept the colonial mind disquieted. The act requiring the provinces in which regiments were quartered to provide barracks and rations for the troops at the public expense was a further irritation. Shelburne sought to make the burden as easy as possible, but Townshend made Shelburne's duties as hard as possible. Of what use were the minister's liberality and moderation, when the chancellor of the exchequer evoked alarm and wrath by announcing insolently that he was for governing the Americans as subjects of Great Britain, and for restraining their trade and manufactures in subordination to those of the mother country! So the struggle went on within the ministry as well as without it; but the opponents of royal prejudice were heavily handicapped; for the king, though stupid in general, had some political skill and much authority. His ill-concealed personal hostility to his "enemy," as he called Shelburne, threatened like the little cloud in the colonial horizon. Nor was it long before Chatham, a dispirited wreck, withdrew himself entirely from all active participation in affairs, shut himself up at Hayes, and refused to be seen by any one who wished to talk on business.

On May 13, 1767, colonial agents and merchants trading to America were refused admission to hear the debates in the House of Commons. Upon that day Townshend was to develop his scheme. By way, as it were, of striking a keynote, he proposed that the province of New York should be restrained from enacting any legislation until it should comply with the "billeting act," against which it had heretofore been recalcitrant. He then sketched a scheme for an American board of commissioners of customs. Finally he came to the welcome point of the precise taxes which he designed to levy: he proposed duties on wine, oil, and fruits, imported directly into the colonies from Spain and Portugal; also on glass, paper, lead, colors, and china, and three pence per pound on tea. The governors and chief justices, most of whom were already appointed by the king, but who got their pay by vote of the colonial assemblies, were hereafter to have fixed salaries, to be paid by the king from this American revenue. Two days later the resolutions were passed, directing the introduction of bills to carry out these several propositions, and a month later the bills themselves were passed.

Meantime the cabinet was again getting very rickety, and many heads were busy with suggestions for patching it in one part or another. With Chatham in retreat and the king in the ascendant, it seemed that Townshend had the surest seat. But there is one risk against which even monarchs cannot insure their favorites, and that risk now fell out against Townshend. He died suddenly of a fever, in September, 1767. Lord North succeeded him, destined to do everything which his royal master desired him to do, and bitterly to repent it. A little later, in December, the king scored another success; Shelburne was superseded in the charge of the colonies by the Earl of Hillsborough, who reëntered the board of trade as first commissioner, and came into the cabinet with the new title of secretary of state for the colonies.

Hillsborough was an Irish peer, with some little capacity for business, but of no more than moderate general ability. He also was supposed, altogether erroneously, to possess a little more knowledge, or, as it might have been better expressed, to be shackled with a little less ignorance, concerning colonial affairs than could be predicated of most of the noblemen who were eligible for public office. America had acquired so much importance that the reputation of familiarity with its condition was an excellent recommendation for preferment. Franklin wrote that this change in the ministry was "very sudden and unexpected;" and that "whether my Lord Hillsborough's administration will be more stable than others have been for a long time, is quite uncertain; but as his inclinations are rather favorable towards us (so far as he thinks consistent with what he supposes the unquestionable rights of Britain), I cannot but wish it may continue."

It was Franklin's temperament to be hopeful, and he also purposely cultivated the wise habit of not courting ill fortune by anticipating it. In this especial instance, however, he soon found that his hopefulness was misplaced. Within six months he discovered that this new secretary looked upon the provincial agents "with an evil eye, as obstructors of ministerial measures," and would be well pleased to get rid of them as "unnecessary" impediments in the transaction of business. "In truth," he adds, "the nominations, particularly of Dr. Lee and myself, have not been at all agreeable to his lordship." It soon appeared that his lordship had the Irish quickness for taking a keen point of law; he broached the theory that no agent could lawfully be appointed by the mere resolution of an assembly, but that the appointment must be made by bill. The value of this theory is obvious when we reflect that a bill did not become law, and consequently an appointment could not be completed, save by the signature of the provincial governor. "This doctrine, if he could establish it," said Franklin, "would in a manner give to his lordship the power of appointing, or, at least, negativing any choice of the House of Representatives and Council, since it would be easy for him to instruct the governor not to assent to the appointment of such and such men, who are obnoxious to him; so that if the appointment is annual, every agent that valued his post must consider himself as holding it by the favor of his lordship;" whereof the consequences were easy to be seen.

There was a lively brush between the noble secretary and Franklin, when the former first propounded this troublesome view. It was in January, 1771, that Franklin called upon his lordship—