The Life of Benjamin Franklin Part 26

CHAPTER XLII.

Imagination can hardly conceive a succession of pleasures more elegant and refined than those which Dr. Franklin, now on the shady side of threescore and ten, continued daily to enjoy in the vicinity of Paris--his mornings constantly devoted to his beloved studies, and his evenings to the cheerful society of his friends--the greatest monarch of Europe heaping him with honours unasked, and the brightest WITS and BEAUTIES of his court vying with each other in their attentions to him. And thus as the golden hours rolled along, they still found him happy--gratefully contrasting his present glory with his humble origin, and thence breathing nothing but benevolence to man--firmly confiding in the care of Heaven--and fully persuaded that his smiles would yet descend upon his countrymen, now fighting the good fight of liberty and happiness.

While waiting in strong hope of this most desirable of all events, he received, by express, December 1777, the welcome news that the battle had been joined in America, and that G.o.d had delivered a n.o.ble wing of the British army into the hands of the brave republicans at Saratoga.

O ye, who, rejecting the philosophy of all embracing love, know no joys beyond what the miser feels when his own little heap increases, how faintly can you conceive what this great apostle of liberty enjoyed when he found that his countrymen still retained the fire of their gallant fathers, and were resolved to live free or press a glorious grave! He lost no time to improve this splendid victory to the good of his country. In several audiences with the king and his ministers, he clearly demonstrated that France in all her days of ancient danger had never known so dark a cloud impending over her as at this awful crisis. "If Great Britain," said he, "already so powerful were to subdue the revolted colonies and add all North America to her empire, she would in twenty years be strong enough to crush the power of France and not leave her an island or a ship on the ocean." As a sudden flash of lightning from the opening clouds before the burst of thunder and rain, such was the shock produced by this argument on the mind of every thinking man throughout France. The courtiers with all their talents for dissembling could not conceal their hostile feelings from the British minister resident among them.

He marked it, not without sentiments of answering hostility, which he could no better conceal, and which, indeed, after the honest bluntness of his national character, he did not care to conceal. The increased attentions paid to Dr. Franklin, and the rejoicings in Paris on account of the American victories, were but illy calculated to soothe his displeasure. Bitter complaints were presently forwarded to his court--angry remonstrances to the French cabinet followed--and in a short time the embers of ancient hate were blown up to flames of fury so diabolical that nothing but war, with all its rivers of human blood could extinguish it. War, of course, was proclaimed--Paris was illuminated--and the thunder of the Royal cannon soon announced to the willing citizens that the die was cast, and that the Grand Monarque was become the Ally of the United States.

"_While there is any thing to be done nothing is done_," said Caesar.

Franklin thought so too. He had succeeded in his efforts to persuade the warlike French to take part with his oppressed countrymen; but the Spaniards and the Dutch were still neutral. To rouse their hostile feelings against Great Britain, and to make them the hearty partisans of Washington, was his next study. The event quickly showed that he had studied human nature with success. He who had been the playmate of lightnings for the _glory of G.o.d_, found no difficulty in stirring up the _wrath of man to praise him_--by chastising the sons of violence.

The tall black ships of war were soon seen to rush forth from the ports of Holland and Spain, laden with the implements of death, to arrest the mad ambition of Great Britain, and maintain the balance of power. How dearly ought the American people to prize their liberties, for which such b.l.o.o.d.y contribution was laid on the human race!

Imagination glances with terror on that dismal war whose spread was over half the solid and half the watery globe. Its devouring fires burned from the dark wilds of North America to the distant isles of India; and the blood of its victims was mingled with the brine of every ocean. But, thanks to G.o.d, the conflict, though violent, was but short. And much of the honour of bringing it to a close is to be conceded to the instrumentality of Dr. Franklin.

We have seen that in 1763, he was sent (of Heaven no doubt, for it was an act worthy of his all-benevolent character,) a preacher of righteousness, to the proud court of Britain. His luminous preachings, (through the press,) on the injustice and unconst.i.tutionality of the ministerial taxing measures on the colonies, shed such light, that thousands of honest Englishmen set their faces against them, and also against the war to which they saw it was tending. These converts to justice, these doves of peace, were not sufficiently numerous to defeat the war-hawks of their b.l.o.o.d.y purposes. But when they found that the war into which they had plunged with such confidence, had not, instantly, as they expected, reduced the colonies to slavish submission; but that, instead thereof, one half Europe in favour of America, was in arms against them with a horrible destruction of lives and property which they had not counted on, and of which they saw no end, they seriously deplored their folly in not pursuing the counsel of doctor Franklin. The nation was still, however, dragged on in war, plunging like a stalled animal, deeper and deeper in disaster and distress, until the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army came like a thunder-bolt, inflicting on the war party a death blow, from which they never afterwards recovered.

Dr. Franklin received this most welcome piece of news, the surrender of lord Cornwallis, by express from America. He had scarcely read the letters with the tear of joy swelling in his patriot eye, when Mr.

Necker came in. Seeing the transport on his face, he eagerly asked what _good news_. "_Thank G.o.d_," replied Franklin, "_the storm is past. The paratonerres of divine justice have drawn off the lightning of British violence, and here, sir, is the rainbow of peace_," holding up the letter. What am I to understand by that, replied Necker. Why, sir, quoth Franklin, my lord Cornwallis and his army are prisoners of war to general Washington. Doctor Franklin's calculation, on the surrender of Cornwallis, _that the storm was past_, was very correct; for, although the thunders did not immediately cease, yet, after that event, they hardly amounted to any thing beyond a harmless rumbling, which presently subsided altogether, leaving a fine bright sky behind them.

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 canva.s.s to all parts of the globe.

Having lived to see happily terminated, the grand struggle for American liberty, which even Englishmen have p.r.o.nounced "_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 sh.o.r.es 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 G.o.d 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 sh.o.r.es, 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 n.o.ble inst.i.tutions 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 inst.i.tutions 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,

"That, in the present as in all the past O SAVE MY COUNTRY, HEAVEN! was still his last."

"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 const.i.tution. 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!!

_Final Speech of doctor Franklin in the Federal Convention.--George Washington, President._

MR. PRESIDENT,

I do not entirely approve this const.i.tution 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 n.o.body but myself that is always in the right_." In these sentiments, sir, I agree to this const.i.tution, 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 const.i.tution. For when you a.s.semble a number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you a.s.semble with those men, all their prejudices, their pa.s.sions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an a.s.sembly, 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 const.i.tution, 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 const.i.tuents, 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 const.i.tution, 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.

"When ranting round in pleasure's ring, Religion may be blinded, Or if she give a random sting, 'Tis oft but little minded.

"But when on life we're tempest driv'n, A conscience's but a canker; A correspondence fix'd with heaven, Is sure a n.o.ble anchor."

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 modes of faith, let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong, whose Life is in the right."

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 G.o.d--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 pa.s.s, that, with all their astonishing talents, and the light of nature besides, they were so stupidly blind and ignorant of G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, MOST GLORIOUS IN ALL MORAL EXCELLENCE.

And how has it come to pa.s.s that while _they_, imitating their b.l.o.o.d.y 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 G.o.d, 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 a.s.signed by Mr.