CHAPTER VII SECOND MISSION TO ENGLAND, III THE HUTCHINSON LETTERS: THE PRIVY COUNCIL SCENE: RETURN HOME

The famous episode of the Hutchinson letters, occurring near the close of Franklin's stay in England, must be narrated with a brevity more in accord with its real historical value than with its interest as a dramatic story. In conversation one day with an English gentleman, Franklin spoke with resentment of the sending troops to Boston and the other severe measures of the government. The other in reply engaged to convince him that these steps were taken upon the suggestion and advice of Americans. A few days later he made good his promise by producing certain letters, signed by Hutchinson, Oliver, and others, all natives of and residents and office-holders in America. The addresses had been cut from the letters; but in other respects they were unmutilated, and they were the original documents. They contained just such matter as the gentleman had described,—opinions and advice which would have commended themselves highly to a royalist, but which could have seemed to a patriot in the provinces only the most dangerous and abominable treason. Induced by obvious motives, Franklin begged leave to send these letters to Massachusetts, and finally obtained permission to do so, subject to the stipulation that they should not be printed nor copied, and should be circulated only among a few leading men. His purpose, he said, lay in his belief that when the "principal people" in Boston "saw the measures they complained of took their rise in a great degree from the representations and recommendations of their own countrymen, their resentment against Britain might abate, as mine has done, and a reconciliation be more easily obtained."[30] Franklin accordingly sent over the letters, together with strict injunctions in pursuance of his engagement to the giver of them: "In confidence of your following inviolably my engagement," etc., he wrote. But this solemn instruction was not complied with; the temptation was too great for the honor of some among the patriots, who resolved that the letters should be made public despite any pledge to the contrary, and resorted to a shallow artifice for achieving their end. A story was started that authenticated copies of the same papers had been received from England by somebody. There was a prudent abstention from any inquiry into the truth of this statement. "I know," said Franklin, "that could not be. It was an expedient to disengage the House." Dishonest as it obviously was, it was successful; members accepted it as a removal of the seal of secrecy; and the documents having thus found their way before the Assembly were ordered to be printed. That body, greatly incensed, immediately voted a petition to the king for the removal of the governor and lieutenant-governor, and sent it over to Franklin to be presented.

The publication of these letters made no little stir. The writers were furious, and of course brought vehement charges of bad faith and dishonorable behavior. But they were at a loss to know upon whom to visit their wrath. For the person to whom they had written the letters was dead, and they knew no one else who had been concerned in the matter. The secret of the channel of conveyance had been rigidly kept. No one had the slightest idea by whom the letters had been transmitted to Massachusetts, nor by whom they had been received there. To this day it is not known by whom the letters were given to Franklin. July 25, 1773, he wrote to Mr. Cushing, the speaker of the Assembly, to whom he had inclosed the letters: "I observe that you mention that no person besides Dr. Cooper and one member of the committee knew they came from me. I did not accompany them with any request of being myself concealed; for, believing what I did to be in the way of my duty as agent, though I had no doubt of its giving offense, not only to the parties exposed but to administration here, I was regardless of the consequences. However, since the letters themselves are now copied and printed, contrary to the promise I made, I am glad my name has not been heard on the occasion; and, as I do not see how it could be of any use to the public, I now wish it may continue unknown; though I hardly expect it." Unfortunately it soon became of such use to two individuals in England that Franklin himself felt obliged to divulge it; otherwise it might have remained forever a mystery.

Though the addresses had been cut from the letters, yet they had previously been shown to many persons in England, and it soon became known there that they had been written to Mr. William Whately, now dead, but who, when the letters were written, was a member of Parliament and private secretary to George Grenville, who was then in the cabinet. Amid the active surmises as to the next link in the chain suspicion naturally attached to Thomas Whately, brother and executor of the dead man, and in possession of his papers. This gentleman denied that he had ever, to his knowledge, had these letters in his hands. Suspicion next attached to Mr. Temple, "our friend," as Franklin described him. He had had access to the letters of William Whately for the purpose of getting from among them certain letters written by himself and his brother; he had lived in America, had been governor of New Hampshire, and later in letters to his friends there had announced the coming of the letters before they had actually arrived. The expression of suspicion towards Temple found its way into a newspaper, bolstered with an intimation that the information came from Thomas Whately. Temple at once made a demand upon Whately to exculpate him. This of course Whately could not do, since he had not inspected the letters taken by Temple, and so could not say of his knowledge that these were not among them. But instead of taking this perfectly safe ground, he published a card stating that Temple had had access to the letters of the deceased for a special purpose, and that Temple had solemnly averred to him, Whately, that he had neither removed nor copied any letters save those written by himself and his brother. This exoneration was far from satisfying Temple, who conceived that it rather injured than improved his position. Accordingly he challenged Whately and the two fought in Hyde Park ring. The story of the duel, which was mingled of comedy and tragedy, is vividly told by Mr. Parton. Whately was wounded twice, and at his request the fight then ceased. Temple was accused, but unfairly, of having thrust at him when he was down. But it was no conventional duel, or result of temporary hot blood. The contestants were profoundly angry with each other, and were bent on more serious results than curable wounds. It was understood that so soon as Whately should be well, the fight would be renewed. Thus matters stood when Franklin came up to London from a visit in the country, to be astonished by the news of what had occurred, and annoyed at the prospect of what was likely to occur. At once he inserted this letter:—

The petition, forwarded by the House of Representatives of Massachusetts Bay, after they had read the famous letters, recited that the petitioners had "very lately had before them certain papers," and it was upon the strength of the contents of these papers that they humbly prayed that his majesty would be "pleased to remove from their posts in this government" Governor Hutchinson and Lieutenant-Governor Oliver. Immediately upon receipt of this petition Franklin transmitted it to Lord Dartmouth, with a very civil and conciliatory note, to which Lord Dartmouth replied in the same spirit. This took place in August, 1773; the duel followed in December, and in the interval Franklin had heard nothing from the petition. But when his foregoing letter was published and conned over it seemed that the auspicious moment for the ministry was now at hand, and that it had actually been furnished to them by the astute Franklin himself. There is no question that he had acted according to his conscience, and it seems now to be generally agreed that his conscience did not mislead him. But he had been placed in a difficult position, and it was easily possible to give a very bad coloring to his conduct. There was in this business an opportunity to bring into discredit the character of the representative man of America, the man foremost of Americans in the eyes of the world, the man most formidable to the ministerial party; such an opportunity was not to be lost.[31]

Franklin had anticipated that the "king would have considered this petition, as he had done the preceding one, in his cabinet, and have given an answer without a hearing." But on the afternoon of Saturday, January 8, 1774, he was surprised to receive notice of a hearing upon the petition before the Lords of the Committee for Plantation Affairs, at the Cockpit, on the Tuesday following, at noon. Late in the afternoon of Monday he got notice that Mr. Mauduit, agent for Hutchinson and Oliver, would be represented at the hearing on the following morning by counsel. A less sagacious man than Franklin would have scented trouble in the air. He tried to find Arthur Lee; but Lee was in Bath. He then sought advice from Mr. Bollan, a barrister, agent for the Council of Massachusetts Bay, and who also had been summoned. There was no time to instruct counsel, and Mr. Bollan advised to employ none; he had found "lawyers of little service in colony cases." "Those who are eminent and hope to rise in their profession are unwilling to offend the court, whose disposition on this occasion was well known." The next day at the hearing Mr. Bollan endeavored to speak; but, though he had been summoned, he was summarily silenced, on the ground that the colonial Council, whose agent he was, was not a party to the petition. Franklin then laid the petition and authenticated copies of the letters before the committee. Some objections to the receipt of copies instead of originals were raised by Mr. Wedderburn, solicitor-general and counsel for Hutchinson and Oliver. Franklin then spoke with admirable keenness and skill. He said that he had not conceived the matter to call for discussion by lawyers; but that it was a "question of civil or political prudence, whether, on the state of the fact that the governors had lost all trust and confidence with the people, and become universally obnoxious, it would be for the interest of his majesty's service to continue them in those stations in that province." Of this he conceived their lordships to be "perfect judges," not requiring "assistance from the arguments of counsel." Yet if counsel was to be heard he asked an adjournment to enable him to engage and instruct lawyers. Time was accordingly granted, until January 29. Wedderburn waived his objection to the copies, but both he and Lord Chief Justice De Grey intimated that inquiry would be made as to "how the Assembly came into possession of them, through whose hands and by what means they were procured, ... and to whom they were directed." This was all irrelevant to the real issue, which had been sharply defined by Franklin. The lord president, near whom Franklin stood, asked him whether he intended to answer such questions. "In that I shall take counsel," replied Franklin.

The interval which elapsed before the day nominated could not have been very lightsome for the unfortunate agent for the Massachusetts Bay. Not only had he the task of selecting and instructing competent counsel, but even his self-possessed and composed nature must have been severely harassed by the rumors of which the air was full. He heard from all quarters that the ministry and courtiers were highly enraged against him; he was called an incendiary, and the newspapers teemed with invectives against him. He heard that he was to be apprehended and sent to Newgate, and that his papers were to be seized; that after he had been sufficiently blackened by the hearing he would be deprived of his place; with disheartening news also that the disposition of the petition had already been determined.[32] At the same time a subpoena was served upon him at the private suit of Whately, who was under personal obligations to him, but was also a banker to the government. Certainly the heavens threatened a cloudburst with appalling thunder and dangerous lightning.

Upon reflection Franklin was disposed to do without counsel, but Mr. Bollan now became strongly of the contrary opinion. So Mr. Dunning and Mr. John Lee were retained. The former had been solicitor-general, and was a man of mark and ability in the profession. When the hearing came on, the Cockpit presented such a spectacle that Franklin felt assured that the whole affair had been "preconcerted." The hostile courtiers had been "invited, as to an entertainment, and there never was such an appearance of privy councilors on any occasion, not less than thirty-five, besides an immense crowd of other auditors." Every one save the privy councilors had to stand from beginning to end of the proceedings. Franklin occupied a position beside the fireplace, where he stood throughout immovable as a statue, his features carefully composed so that not one trace of emotion was apparent upon them, showing a degree of self-control which was extraordinary even in one who was at once a man of the world and a philosopher, with sixty-eight years of experience in life. Mr. Dunning, with his voice unfortunately weakened by a cold, was not always audible and made little impression. Mr. Lee was uselessly feeble. Wedderburn, thus inefficiently opposed, and conscious of the full sympathy of the tribunal, poured forth a vile flood of personal invective. Throughout his life he approved himself a mean-spirited and ignoble man, despised by those who used and rewarded his able and debased services. On this occasion he eagerly took advantage of the protection afforded by his position and by Dr. Franklin's age to use language which, under such circumstances, was as cowardly as it was false. Nothing, he said, "will acquit Dr. Franklin of the charge of obtaining [the letters] by fraudulent or corrupt means, for the most malignant of purposes, unless he stole them from the person who stole them." "I hope, my lords, you will mark and brand the man, for the honor of this country, of Europe, and of mankind." "He has forfeited all the respect of societies and of men. Into what companies will he hereafter go with an unembarrassed face or the honest intrepidity of virtue? Men will watch him with a jealous eye; they will hide their papers from him, and lock up their escritoires. He will henceforth esteem it a libel to be called a man of letters, homo trium[33] literarum." "But he not only took away the letters from one brother, but kept himself concealed till he nearly occasioned the murder of the other. It is impossible to read his account, expressive of the coolest and most deliberate malice, without horror. Amidst these tragical events,—of one person nearly murdered, of another answerable for the issue, of a worthy governor hurt in his dearest interests, the fate of America in suspense,—here is a man who, with the utmost insensibility of remorse, stands up and avows himself the author of all. I can compare it only to Zanga, in Dr. Young's 'Revenge.'

'Know then 't was—I;
I forged the letter, I disposed the picture;
I hated, I despised, and I destroy.'

I ask, my lords, whether the revengeful temper attributed, by poetic fiction only, to the bloody African, is not surpassed by the coolness and apathy of the wily American."

Such was the torrent of vilification which flowed from the lips of one of the meanest of England's lawyers, and the speaker was constantly encouraged by applause, and by various indications of gratification on the part of the tribunal before which he argued. Dr. Priestley, who was present, said that from the opening of the proceedings it was evident "that the real object of the court was to insult Dr. Franklin," an object in which their lordships were, of course, able to achieve a complete success. "No person belonging to the council behaved with decent gravity, except Lord North," who came late and remained standing behind a chair. It was a disgraceful scene, but not of long duration; apparently there was little else done save to hear the speeches of counsel. The report of the lords was dated on the same day, and was a severe censure upon the petition and the petitioners. More than this, their lordships went out of their way to inflict a wanton outrage upon Franklin. The question of who gave the letters to him was one which all concerned were extremely anxious to hear answered. But it was also a question which he could not lawfully be compelled to answer in these proceedings; it was wholly irrelevant; moreover it was involved in the cause then pending before the lord chancellor in which Franklin was respondent. Accordingly, by advice of counsel, advice unquestionably correct, he refused to divulge what their lordships were so curious to hear. Enraged, they said in their report that his "silence" was abundant support for the conclusion that the "charge of surreptitiously obtaining the letters was a true one," although they knew that in law and in fact his silence was wholly justifiable.

Resolutely as Franklin sought at the time to repress any expression of his natural indignation, there is evidence enough of how deeply he felt this indignity. For example, there is the familiar story of his dress. He wore, at the Cockpit, "a full dress suit of spotted Manchester velvet." Many years afterward, when it befell him, as one of the ambassadors of his country, to sign the treaty of alliance with France, the first treaty ever made by the United States of America, and which practically insured the defeat of Great Britain in the pending war, it was observed by Dr. Bancroft that he was attired in this same suit. The signing was to have taken place on February 5, but was unexpectedly postponed to the next day, when again Franklin appeared in the same old suit and set his hand to the treaty. Dr. Bancroft says: "I once intimated to Dr. Franklin the suspicion which his wearing these clothes on that occasion had excited in my mind, when he smiled, without telling me whether it was well or ill founded." Having done this service, the suit was again laid away until it was brought forth to be worn at Paris at the signing of the treaty of peace with England, a circumstance the more noteworthy since at that time the French court was in mourning.[34]

It appears that Franklin for a time entertained a purpose of drawing up an "answer to the abuses" cast at him upon this occasion. There was, however, no need for doing so, and his reason for not doing it is more eloquent on his behalf with posterity than any pamphlet could be. He said: "It was partly written, but the affairs of public importance I have been ever since engaged in prevented my finishing it. The injuries too that my country has suffered have absorbed private resentments, and made it appear trifling for an individual to trouble the world with his particular justification, when all his compatriots were stigmatized by the king and Parliament as being in every respect the worst of mankind."

The proceedings at the Cockpit took place on a Saturday. On the following Monday morning Franklin got a "written notice from the secretary of the general post-office, that his majesty's postmaster-general found it necessary to dismiss me from my office of deputy postmaster-general in North America." In other ways, too, the mischief done him by this public assault could not be concealed. It published to all the world the feeling of the court and the ministry toward him, and told Englishmen that it was no longer worth while to keep up appearances of courtesy and good will.

It put upon him a judicial stigma, which was ample excuse for the enemies of America henceforth to treat him as both dishonored and dishonorable. Hitherto his tact and his high character had preserved him in a great measure from the social annoyances and curtailments which he would naturally have suffered as the prominent representative of an unpopular cause. But it seemed now as if his judgment had once and fatally played him false, and certainly his good name and his prestige were given over to his enemies, who dealt cruelly with them. He felt that it was the end of his usefulness, also that his own self-respect and dignity must be carefully preserved; and he wrote to the Assembly of Massachusetts to say that it would be impossible for him longer to act as its agent. From that time he never attended the levee of a minister. The portcullis had dropped; the days of his service in England were over.

The conclusion had come painfully, yet it was not without satisfaction that he saw himself free to return home. His affairs had suffered in his absence, and needed his attention now more than ever, since he was deprived of his income from the post-office. Moreover his efforts could no longer be cheered with hopes of success or even of achieving any substantial advantage for his countrymen. He was obliged to admit that the good disposition of Lord Dartmouth had had no practical results. "No single measure of his predecessor has since been even attempted to be changed, and, on the contrary, new ones have been continually added, further to exasperate these people, render them desperate, and drive them, if possible, into open rebellion." It had been a vexatious circumstance, too, that not long before this time he had received a rebuke from the Massachusetts Assembly for having been lax, as they fancied, in notifying them of some legislation of an injurious character, which was in preparation. "This censure," he said, "though grievous, does not so much surprise me, as I apprehended all along from the beginning that between the friends of an old agent, my predecessor, who thought himself hardly used in his dismission, and those of a young man impatient for the succession, my situation was not likely to be a very comfortable one, as my faults could scarce pass unobserved." This reference to the malicious and untrustworthy back-biter, Arthur Lee, might have been much more severe, and still amply deserved. The most important acts of his ignoble life, by which alone his memory is preserved, were the slanders which he set in circulation concerning Franklin. Yet Franklin, little suspicious and very magnanimous, praised him as a "gentleman of parts and ability," likely to serve the province with zeal and activity. Probably from this impure Lee fount, but possibly from some other source, there now came a renewal of the rumors that Franklin was to be gained over to the ministerial side by promotion to some office superior to that which he had held. The injurious story was told in Boston, where perhaps a few persons believed it to be true of a man who in fact could hardly have set upon his fealty a price so high that the British government would not gladly have paid it, and who heretofore had been, and at this very time again was, tempted by repeated solicitations and the intimations of grand rewards, only to change his mind—a matter so very easy in politics.

Furthermore, beyond these assaults upon his fidelity, these insults of the privy council, Franklin had to contemplate the possibility of personal danger. He was a man of abundant courage, but courage does not make a prison or a gallows an agreeable object in one's horizon. The newspapers alleged that in his correspondence "treason" had been discovered. The ministry, as he was directly informed, thought no better of him than did the editors, regarding him as "the great fomenter of the opposition in America," the "great adversary to any accommodation." "It is given out," he wrote, "that copies of several letters of mine to you are sent over here to the ministers, and that their contents are treasonable, for which I should be prosecuted if copies could be made evidence." He was not conscious of any treasonable intention, but treason was a word to make a man anxious in those days, when uttered by the ministry and echoed by the court. Franklin was quite aware that, though ministers might offer him a tempting place by way of bribe, they would far rather give him "a place in a cart to Tyburn." His friends warned him that his situation was hazardous; that, "if by some accident the troops and the people of New England should come to blows," he would doubtless be seized; and they advised him to withdraw while yet he could do so. Hutchinson frankly avowed that, if his advice were taken, the withdrawal would not be permitted. "But," said Franklin, "I venture to stay," upon the chance of still being of use, "and I confide on my innocence that the worst which can happen to me will be an imprisonment upon suspicion; though that is a thing I should much desire to avoid, as it may be expensive and vexatious, as well as dangerous to my health." So spoke this imperturbable man, and calmly stayed at his post.

He was still consulted by both sides in England. In the August following the scene in the privy council chamber, he called upon Lord Chatham and had a long and interesting interview. He then said that he attributed the late "wrong politics" to the departure from the old and true British principle, "whereby every province was well governed, being trusted in a great measure with the government of itself." When it was sought to take this privilege from the colonies, grave blunders had inevitably ensued; because, as he admirably expressed it, Parliament insisted upon being omnipotent when it was not omniscient. In other words, the affairs of the unrepresented colonies were mismanaged through sheer ignorance. It is noteworthy that England has since recognized the necessity of precisely the principle indicated by Franklin for colonial government; all her great colonies are now "trusted in a great measure with the government" of themselves, and are consequently "well governed." Franklin further assured his lordship that in all his travels in the provinces he had never once heard independence hinted at as a desirable thing. This gave Chatham much pleasure; but perhaps neither of them at the moment reflected how many eventful years had elapsed since Franklin was last journeying in America. He further declared that the colonists were "even not against regulations of the general commerce by Parliament, provided such regulations were bona fide for the benefit of the whole empire, not to the small advantage of one part to the great injury of another." This, by the way, was a good point, which he found very serviceable when people talked to him about the unity of the empire. A genuine unity was just the gospel which he liked to preach. "An equal dispensation," he said, "of protection, rights, privileges, and advantages is what every part is entitled to, and ought to enjoy, it being a matter of no moment to the state whether a subject grows rich and flourishing on the Thames or the Ohio, in Edinburgh or Dublin." But no living Englishman could accept this broad and liberal doctrine. The notion that the colonies were a dependency and should be tributary to the greater power was universal. It was admitted that they should not be oppressed; but it was believed that between oppression and that perfect unity which involved entire equality there was certainly a middle ground whereon the colonies might properly be established.

Lord Chatham expressed in courteous compliments the gratification which this visit afforded him. Not long afterward he came gallantly to the defense of Franklin in the House of Lords. It was one day in February, 1775; Franklin was standing in full view, leaning on a rail; Lord Sandwich was speaking against a measure of conciliation or agreement just introduced by Chatham. He said that it deserved "only contempt," and "ought to be immediately rejected. I can never believe it to be the production of any British peer. It appears to me rather the work of some American. I fancy I have in my eye the person who drew it up, one of the bitterest and most mischievous enemies this country has ever known." Speaking thus, he looked full at Franklin, and drew upon him the general attention. But Chatham hastened to defend the defenseless one. "The plan is entirely my own," he said; "but if I were the first minister, and had the care of settling this momentous business, I should not be ashamed of calling to my assistance a person so perfectly acquainted with the whole of American affairs, one whom all Europe ranks with our Boyles and Newtons, as an honor not to the English nation only but to human nature." This was spirited and friendly; Franklin had a way of making warm and loyal friends. Most men would have rejoiced to be so abused by Sandwich in order to be so complimented by Chatham.[35]

Yet, in spite of the high esteem in which so many Englishmen still held Franklin, an incident occurred at this time which showed very plainly that the term of his full usefulness was indeed over, though not altogether for the reasons which had led him to think so. The fact was that the proverbial last feather which breaks the back had been laid upon him. His endurance had been over-taxed, and he was at last in that temper and frame of mind in which the wisest men are liable to make grave mistakes. He was one day present at a debate in the House of Commons, and found himself, as he says, "much disgusted, from the ministerial side, by many base reflections on American courage, religion, understanding, etc., in which we were treated with the utmost contempt, as the lowest of mankind, and almost of a different species from the English of Britain; but particularly the American honesty was abused by some of the lords, who asserted that we were all knaves, etc." Franklin went home "somewhat irritated and heated," and before he had cooled he wrote a paper which he hastened to show to his friend Mr. Thomas Walpole, a member of the House of Commons. Mr. Walpole "looked at it and at me several times alternately, as if he apprehended me a little out of my senses." Nor would Mr. Walpole have been altogether without reason, if in fact he entertained such a suspicion. The paper was the memorial of Benjamin Franklin to the Earl of Dartmouth, secretary of state. In its first clause it demanded "reparation" for the injury done by the blockade of the port of Boston. Conventional forms of speech were observed, yet there was an atmosphere almost of injurious insolence, entirely foreign to all other productions of Franklin's brain and pen. Its second paragraph recited that the conquests made in the northeast from France, which included all those extensive fisheries which still survive as a bone of contention between the two countries, had been jointly won by England and the American colonies, at their common cost, and by an army in which the provincial troops were nearly equal in numbers to the British. "It follows," the audacious memorialist said, "that the colonies have an equitable and just right to participate in the advantage of those fisheries," and the present English attempt to deprive the Massachusetts people of sharing in them was "an act highly unjust and injurious." He concluded: "I give notice that satisfaction will probably one day be demanded for all the injury that may be done and suffered in the execution of such act; and that the injustice of the proceeding is likely to give such umbrage to all the colonies that in no future war, wherein other conquests may be meditated, either a man or a shilling will be obtained from any of them to aid such conquests, till full satisfaction be made as aforesaid."

Here was indeed a fulmination to strike an Englishman breathless and dumb with amazement. It put the colonies in the position of a coequal or allied power, entitled to share with Britain the spoils of victory; even in the position of an independent power which could refuse the military allegiance of subjects. English judges would have found abundant treason in this insubordinate document. It may soothe common men to see the wise, the serene, the self-contained Dr. Franklin, the philosopher and diplomatist, for once lose his head in a gust of uncontrollable passion. Walpole, though a loyal Englishman, was fortunately his true friend, and wrote him, with a brevity more impressive than argument, that the memorial "might be attended with dangerous consequences to your person and contribute to exasperate the nation." He closed with the significant sentence: "I heartily wish you a prosperous voyage and long health." The significant words remind one of the woodcock's feather with which Wildrake warned the disguised monarch that no time was to be lost in fleeing from Woodstock. But if the hint was curt, it was no less wise. There was no doubt that it was full time for the sage to be exchanging his farewells, when such a point had been reached. The next day, as Franklin relates, Walpole called and said that "it was thought my having no instructions directing me to deliver such a protest would make it appear still more unjustifiable, and be deemed a national affront. I had no desire to make matters worse, and, being grown cooler, took the advice so kindly given me."

The last business which Franklin had to transact on the eve of his departure came in the shape of one of those mysterious and obscure bits of negotiation which are at times undertaken by private persons who are very "near" to ministers, and who conduct their affairs with impressive secrecy. Just how much this approach amounted to it is difficult to say; no less a person than Lord Howe was concerned in it, and he was undoubtedly in direct communication with Lord North. But whether that potentate really anticipated any substantial good result may be doubted. Franklin himself has told the story with much particularity, and since it will neither bear curtailment nor admit of being related at length, and since the whole palaver accomplished absolutely nothing, the relation will be omitted here. In the course of it the efforts to bribe Franklin were renewed, and briefly rejected by him. Also he met, and established a very friendly personal relation with, Lord Howe, who afterward commanded the British fleet in American waters.

Having discovered the emptiness of this business, Franklin at last completed his arrangements for his return home. He placed his agencies in the hands of Arthur Lee. His last day in London he passed with his stanch old friend. Dr. Priestley, and a large part of the time, says the doctor, "he was looking over a number of American newspapers, directing me what to extract from them for the English ones; and in reading them he was frequently not able to proceed for the tears literally running down his cheeks." Such was the depth of feeling in one often accounted callous, indifferent, or even untrustworthy in the matter of American relations with England. He felt some anxiety as to whether his departure might not be prevented by an arrest, and made his journey to Portsmouth with such speed and precautions as were possible.[36] But he was not interrupted, and sailed on some day near the middle of March, 1775. His departure marked an era in the relations of Great Britain with her American colonies. It signified that all hope of agreement, all possibility of reconciliation upon one side or of recession upon the other, were absolutely over. That Franklin gave up in despair the task of preventing a war meant that war was certain and imminent. He arrived in Philadelphia May 5, 1775. During his absence his wife had died, and his daughter had married a young man, Richard Bache, whom he had never yet seen.

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