of the town which after all his wanderings was
his home, to feel himself by no means yet a worn-
out man, though in fact he had seventy-nine years
of a busy life behind him. His fellow citizens
evidently thought that the reservoir which had
been so bountiful could not yet be near exhaus
tion, and were resolved to continue their copious
draughts upon it. They at once elected him to
the State Council, of which he was made Presi
dent ; and, as he said, " I had not firmness enough
to resist the unanimous desire of my country folks ;
and I find myself harnessed again in their ser
vice for another year. They engrossed the prime



404 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

of my life. They have eaten my flesh, and seem
resolved now to pick my bones." A visible and
a natural pleasure lurks in the words; old age
finds nothing sweeter than a tribute to the fresh
ness of its powers; and especially Franklin saw
in this honor a vindication against his maligners.
From it he understood that, however some individ
uals might indulge in dislike and distrust, the
overwhelming mass of his fellow citizens esteemed
him as highly as he could wish. The distinction,
however, cost posterity an unwelcome price, for
it prevented further work on the autobiography,
which otherwise would probably have been fin
ished. 1

He came into office as a peacemaker amid war
ring factions, and in the fulfillment of his func
tions gave such satisfaction that in 1786 he was
unanimously reflected; and the like high compli
ment was paid him again in the autumn of 1787.
It was like Washington and the presidency: so
long as he would consent to accept the office, no
other candidate was thought of. He also took
substantially the same course which had been
taken by Washington as commander-in-chief con
cerning his pay; for he devoted his whole salary
to public uses. He had the good fortune to be
able to carry out his somewhat romantic, and for
most persons impracticable, theory in this respect,
because his private affairs were prospering. His
investments in real estate in Philadelphia had
1 Franklin s Works, ix. 459.



AT HOME 405

risen greatly in value and in their income-produ
cing capacity since the war, and he was now at
least comfortably endowed with worldly goods.

lie still continued to ply his pen, and the just
but annoying complaints which came from Great
Britain, that English creditors could not collect
their ante-bellum debts from their American debt
ors, stimulated him to a bit of humor at which
his own countrymen at least were sure to laugh,
however little droll it might seem to Englishmen,
who reasonably preferred good dollars to good
jokes. "We may all remember the time," he
wrote, "when our mother country, as a mark of
her parental tenderness, emptied her gaols into
our habitations, for the better peopling, as she
expressed it, of the colonies. It is certain that
no due returns have yet been made for these
valuable consignments. We are therefore much
in her debt on that account; and as she is of late
clamorous for the payment of all we owe her,
and some of our debts are of a kind not so easily
discharged, I am for doing, however, what is in
our power. It will show our good will as to the
rest. The felons she planted among us have pro
duced such an amazing increase that we are now
enabled to make ample remittance in the same
commodity," etc., etc.

Nevertheless these English assaults nettled him
not a little; and further he dreaded their possi
ble influence in the rest of Europe outside of
England. The English newspapers teemed with



406 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

accounts of the general demoralization and disin
tegration of the States ; it was said that they had
found their ruin in their independence, and the
unwillingness of American merchants to pay their
debts was in one paragraph attributed to their
dishonesty, and in the next to the hopeless poverty
which was described as having possession of the
country. It was in good truth what Mr. John
Fiske has called it, "The Critical Period of
American History." But Franklin was at once
too patriotic and too sanguine to admit that mat
ters were so bad as they seemed. His insight into
the situation proved correct, and the outcome very
soon showed that the elements of prosperity which
he saw were substantial, and not merely the phan
toms of a hopeful lover of his country. During
these years of humiliation and discouragement he
was busy in writing to many friends in England
and in France very manly and spirited letters,
declaring the condition of things in the States
to be by no means so ill as it was represented.
Industry had revived, values were advancing, the
country was growing, welfare and success were
within the grasp of the people. These things he
said repeatedly and emphatically, and in a short
time the accuracy of his knowledge had to be
admitted by all, whether friends or enemies. He
would not even admit that the failure to arrange
a treaty of commerce with England was the seri
ous misfortune which most Americans conceived
it to be. In his usual gallant fashion of facing



AT HOME 407

down untoward circumstances lie alleged again
and again that the lack of such a treaty was worse
for Great Britain than for the States. If British
merchants could stand it, American merchants,
he avowed, could stand it much better. He was
for showing no more concern about it. "Let the
merchants on both sides treat with one another.
Laissez lesfaire," he said. The presence of such
a temper in the States, in so prominent a man,
was of infinite service in those troubled years of
unsettled, novel, and difficult conditions.

Dr. Franklin was not at first elected a member
of the deputation from Pennsylvania to the con
vention which framed the Constitution of the
United States. But in May, 1787, he was added
in order that, in the possible absence of General
Washington, there might be some one whom all
could agree in calling to the chair. 1 It was fortu
nate that even an unnecessary reason led to his
being chosen, for all future generations would
have felt that an unpardonable void had been
left in that famous assemblage, had the sage of
America not been there. Certainly the "fitness
of things," the historical picturesqueness of the
event, imperatively demanded Dr. Franklin s
venerable figure in the constitutional convention
of the United States of America.

As between the two theories of government
which divided that body, Franklin ranged himself
with the party opposed to a strong and centralized

1 Parton s Life of Franklin, ii. 565.



408 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

government endowed with many functions and
much power. 1 The simplest government seemed
to him the best; and he substantially gave in his
allegiance to those democratic ideas which after
ward constituted the doctrines of the Jeffersonian
school in American politics. It was natural that
he should do so; he was a cheerful optimist all
his life long, and few men have ever so trusted
human kind as he did; so now he believed that
the people could take care of themselves, as in
deed the history of the past few years and the
character of the population of the States at that
time indicated that they could. He attended
regularly all the sessions, and gave his opinions
freely: but they are only dimly revealed in the
half-light which enfolds in such lamentable obscu
rity the debates of that interesting body. What
little is known can be briefly stated.

The same theory which he was practicing con
cerning his own salary he wished to see introduced
as an article of the Constitution. The President,
he thought, should receive no salary. Honor was
enough reward; a place which gave both honor
and profit offered too corrupting a temptation,
and instead of remaining a source of generous
aspiration to "the wise and moderate, the lovers
of peace and good order, the men fittest for the
trust," it would be scrambled for by "the bold

1 But later lie remarked : " Though there is a general dread of
giving too much power to our governors, I think we are more in
danger from too little obedience in the governed"



AT HOME 409

and the violent, the men of strong passions and
indefatigable activity in their selfish pursuits." 1
In our day such a notion and such arguments
would be quickly sneered out of the debate; but
they were in keeping with the spirit of that era
when the first generation which for ages had dared
to contemplate popular government was carried
away by the earliest romantic fervor of inexpe
rienced speculation.

It is familiar that the gravest question which
perplexed the convention was whether the larger
and the smaller States should stand upon terms
of equality, or whether some proportion should be
established. After a discussion, recurred to at
intervals during many weeks, had failed to de
velop any satisfactory solution of this problem,
pregnant with failure, Franklin moved that the
daily proceedings should be opened with prayer. 2
But Hamilton said that a resort to prayer would
indicate to the people that the convention had
reached a desperate pass ; and either this or some
other reason was so potent that scarcely any one
voted yea on the motion. What could be more
singular than to see the skeptical Franklin and
the religious Hamilton thus opposed upon this
question ! Franklin next suggested a compromise :
an equal number of delegates for all States; an
equal vote for all States upon all questions respect-

1 Franklin s Works, ix. 418. See also letter to Bishop of St.
Asaph, Ibid. viii. 270.

2 Franklin s Works, ix. 428.



410 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

ing the authority or sovereignty of a State, and
upon appointments and confirmations; but votes
to be apportioned according to the populations of
the States respectively upon all bills for raising
and spending money. He was in favor of a single
legislative chamber, and his plan was designed
to be applied to such a system. Its feasibility
would probably have been defeated through the
inevitable complexity which would have attended
upon it in practice. 1 Nevertheless it was a sug
gestion in the right direction, and contained the
kernel of that compromise which later on he de
veloped into the system of an equal representation
in the Senate, and a proportionate one in the
House. This happy scheme may be fairly said
to have saved the Union.

Upon the matter of suffrage Franklin voted
against limiting it to freeholders, because to do
so would be to " depress the virtue and public
spirit of our common people," for whose patriot
ism and good sense he expressed high esteem.
He opposed the requirement of a residence of
fourteen years as a preliminary to naturaliza
tion, thinking four years a sufficient period. He
thought that the President should hold office for
seven years, and should not be eligible for a sec
ond term; he should be subject to impeachment,
since otherwise in case of wrongdoing recourse
could be had only to revolution or assassination ;

1 One becomes quite convinced of this upon reading his presen
tation of his scheme. Works, ix. 423 ; see also Ibid. 395.



AT HOME 411

he should not have the power of an absolute
veto.

When at last the long discussions were over
and the final draft was prepared, Franklin found
himself in the position in which also were most
of his associates, disapproving certain parts, but
thinking adoption of the whole far better than
rejection. He was wise enough and singular
enough to admit that he was not infallibly right.
"Nothing in human affairs and schemes is per
fect," he said, "and perhaps that is the case of
our opinions." He made an excellent speech, 1
urging that at the close of their deliberations all
should harmonize, sink their small differences of
opinion, and send the document before the people
with the prestige of their unanimous approbation.
While the last members were signing, relates
Madison, "Dr. Franklin, looking toward the
president s chair, at the back of which a rising
sun happened to be painted, observed to a few
members near him that painters had found it
difficult to distinguish in their art a rising from
a setting sun. I have, he said, often and often
in the course of the session, and the vicissitudes
of my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked at
that behind the president without being able to
tell whether it was rising or setting; but now at
length I have the happiness to know that it is a
rising and not a setting sun.

He did what he could to secure the adoption of

1 Franklin s Works, ix. 431.



412 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

the instrument by the people ; and when that end
was happily achieved he joined his voice to the
unanimous cry with which the American nation
nominated George Washington as the only possi
ble candidate for the presidency. He said : " Gen
eral Washington is the man whom all our eyes
are fixed on for President, and what little influ
ence I may have is devoted to him."

It was about the time of the election that he
himself took his farewell of public life. The third
year of his incumbency in the office of president
of Pennsylvania expired in the autumn of 1788,
and his physical condition precluded all idea of
further official labors. Nature could not have
committed such an incongruity, such a sin against
aesthetic justice, as not to preserve Benjamin
Franklin s life long enough to enable him to see
the United States fairly launched as a real na
tion, with an established government and a sound
constitution giving promise of a vigorous career.
But evidently with this boon the patience of na
ture was exhausted; for Franklin s infirmities now
increased upon him terribly. He endured extreme
pain during periods steadily increasing in length
and recurring at ever-shortening intervals. He
bore his suffering, which too often became agony,
with heroic fortitude ; but it was evident that even
his strong frame could not long hold out against
the debilitating effects of his merciless disease.
Yet while it racked his body it fortunately spared
his mental faculties ; and indeed so lively did his



AT HOME 413

interest in affairs remain that it seemed to require
these physical reminders to show him how old
he was; save for his body, he was still a man in
his prime. He once said: "I often hear persons,
whom I knew when children, called old Mr. Such-
a-one, to distinguish them from their sons, now
men grown and in business; so that by living
twelve years beyond David s period, / seem to
have intruded myself into the company of poster
ity, when I ought to have been abed and asleep,"
words which should take their place among
the fine sayings of the ages.

He was courageous and cheerful. In Novem
ber, 1788, he wrote: "You kindly inquire after
my health. I have not of late much reason to
boast of it. People that will live a long life and
drink to the bottom of the cup must expect to
meet with some of the dregs. However, when I
consider how many more terrible maladies the
human body is liable to, I think myself well off
that I have only three incurable ones: the gout,
the stone, and old age; and, those notwithstand
ing, I enjoy many comfortable intervals, in which
I forget all my ills, and amuse myself in reading
or writing, or in conversation with friends, joking,
laughing, and telling merry stories, as when you
first knew me, a young man about fifty." 1 He
does not seem to have taken undue credit to
himself; there is no querulousness, or egotism, or

1 He habitually wrote in this vein ; see, for example, Works.
ix. 266, 283, and passim.



414 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

senility in his letters, but a delightful tranquillity
of spirit. His sister wrote to him that the Boston
newspapers often had matter in his honor. "I
am obliged to them," he wrote; "on the other
hand, some of our papers here are endeavoring
to disgrace me. I take no notice. My friends
defend me. I have long been accustomed to re
ceive more blame, as well as more praise, than I
have deserved. It is the lot of every public man,
and I leave one account to balance the other."
So serene was the aged philosopher, a real philoso
pher, not one who, having played a part in life,
was to be betrayed in the weakness and irrita
bility of old age. He felt none of the mental
weariness which years so often bring. He was
by no means tired of life and affairs in this world,
yet he wrote in a characteristic vein to the Bishop
of St. Asaph : " The course of nature must soon
put a period to my present mode of existence.
This I shall submit to with the less regret, as,
having seen during a long life a good deal of this
world, I feel a growing curiosity to be acquainted
with some other." It was characteristic that in
these closing days it was the progress of mankind
in knowledge and welfare which especially ab
sorbed his thoughts. When he reflected on the
great strides that were making he said that he
almost wished that it had been his destiny to be
born two or three centuries later. He was one
of the few men who has left on record his willing
ness to live his life over again, even though he



AT HOME 415

should not be allowed the privilege of "correcting
in the second edition the errors of the first."

The French Revolution excited his profoundest
interest. At first he said that he saw "nothing
singular in all this, but on the contrary what
might naturally be expected. The French have
served an apprenticeship to liberty in this coun
try, and now that they are out of their time they
have set up for themselves." 1 He expressed his
hope that "the fire of liberty, . . . spreading
itself over Europe, would act upon the inestimable
rights of man as common fire does upon gold :
purify without destroying them; so that a lover
of liberty may find a country in any part of Chris
tendom." The language had an unusual smack
of the French revolutionary slang, in which he
seems in no other instance to have indulged. But
as the fury swelled, his earlier sympathies became
merged in a painful anxiety concerning the fate
of his many good old friends.

Franklin s last act was a memorial addressed
to Congress, signed by him in his capacity as
president of the abolition society, and praying
that body: "That you will devise means for re
moving this inconsistency from the character of
the American people ; that you will promote mercy
and justice towards this distressed race; and that
you will step to the very verge of the power vested
in you for discouraging every species of traffic
in the persons of our fellow men." He had al-
1 Parton s Life of Franklin, ii. 600.



416 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

ways spoken of slavery with the strongest condem
nation, and branded the slave-trade as "abomi
nable," a "diabolical commerce," and a "crime."

A large part of the last year or two of his life
was passed by Franklin in his bed. At times when
his dreadful suffering seemed to become intoler
able, it was quelled, so far as possible, by opium.
But at intervals it left him, and still whenever
he thus got a respite for a few days he was again
at work. It was in such an interval that he wrote
his paper condemning the liberty, which was be
coming the license, of the press. If the law per
mitted this sort of thing, he said, then it should
restore also the liberty of the cudgel. The paper
is not altogether antiquated, nor the idea alto
gether bad !

It was even so late as March 23, 1790, that he
wrote the humorous rejoinder to the pro -slavery
speech delivered in Congress by Jackson of Geor
gia. But the end was close at hand; and when
this brilliant satire was composed, there lacked
but a few days of the allotted term when that
rare humor was to be stilled forever, and that
broad philanthropy was to cease from the toil in
which it had never tired alike for the free and the
oppressed.

On April 12, 1790, a pain in the chest and
difficulty of breathing, which had been giving him
much trouble, ceased for a short while, and he
insisted upon getting up in order to have his bed
re-made; for he wished to "die in a decent man-



AT HOME 417

ner." His daughter expressed the conventional
wish that he might yet recover and live many
years. U I hope not," he replied. Soon after
ward the pain returned, and he was advised to
change his position, so that he could breathe more
easily. "A dying man can do nothing easy,"
he said; and these are the last words which he
is known to have uttered. Soon afterward he
sank into a lethargy, and so remained until at
eleven o clock, p. M., on April 17, 1790, he died.
A great procession and a concourse of citizens
escorted his funeral, and Congress voted to "wear
the customary badge of mourning for one month."
The bits of crape were all very well, a conven
tional, insignificant tribute; but unfortunately the
account of the country, or at least of Congress
as representing the country, did not stand very
honorably, to say nothing of generously, with
one of its oldest, most faithful, and most useful
servants. 1 Again and again Franklin had asked
for some modest office, some slight opening, for
his grandson, Temple Franklin. The young man s
plans and prospects in life had all been sacrificed
to the service of Franklin as his secretary, which
was in fact the service of the country; yet he had
never been able to collect even the ordinary salary
pertaining to such a position. Throughout a long

1 One of the most painful letters to read which our annals con
tain is that written by Franklin to Charles Thomson, secretary of
CongTess, November 20, 17^8, Works, viii. 2<>, :><). It is an ar
raignment which humiliates the descendants of the members of
that body.



418 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

life of public service, often costly to himself in
his own affairs, Franklin had never asked any
other favor than this, which after all was rather
compensation than favor, and this was never given
to him. When one reflects how such offices are
demanded and awarded in these days, one hardly
knows whether to be more ashamed of the present
or of the past. But this was not all nor even
the worst; for Franklin s repeated efforts to get
his own accounts with the government audited and
settled never met with any response. It needed
only that Congress should appoint a competent
accountant to examine and report. Before leav
ing France Franklin had begged for this act of
simple, business-like justice, which it was the
duty of Congress to initiate without solicitation;
he had the fate of the "poor unhappy Deane "
before his eyes, to make him uncomfortable, but
in this respect he was treated no better than that
misused man. After his return home he contin
ued his urgency during his last years, not wishing
to die leaving malignant enemies behind him, and
accounts open which he could no longer explain
and elucidate. Indeed, stories were already cir
culating that he was "greatly indebted to the
United States for large sums that had been put
into [his] hands, and that [he] avoided a settle
ment; " yet this request was still, with unpardon
able disregard of decency and duty, utterly ig
nored. He never could get the business attended
to, and Benjamin Franklin actually could not



AT HOME 419

extort from an indifferent Congress the small
satisfaction of having his accounts passed. The
consequence was that when he died the United
States appeared his debtor, and never extricated
itself from that painful position. 1 It was only
in this matter that he ever showed the slightest
anxiety concerning his reputation with posterity,
lie wanted to leave the name of an honest man ;
but otherwise he never was at the trouble of pre
paring a line to justify any of his actions, therein
differing from many of his contemporaries.

France showed a livelier affection and warmer
appreciation toward the great dead than did his
own countrymen. At the opening of the National
Assembly, June 11, 1790, Mirabeau delivered
an impassioned eulogy in the rhetorical French
fashion; and the motion to wear mourning for
three days was carried by acclamation. The
president of that body, M. Sieyes, was instructed
to communicate the resolution to Washington.
At the celebration of the municipality of Paris
the citizens generally wore a mourning badge;
and the grain market, where the oration was de
livered, was draped in black. The Academy of
Sciences of course did formal honor to his mem
ory, as did likewise the revolutionary clubs. A
street at what was in his day Passy, but is now
included in Paris, near the Trocadero, perpetuates
by his name the admiration which France felt for
him.

1 Parton s Life of Franklin, ii. 596.



420 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN