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After having answered my question on that subject, as before stated, viz. that he considered Dr. Franklin "very much a christian in practice," he added with a fine smile, as if happy that he possessed an anecdote so honourable to the religious character of his illustrious friend, and the friend of mankind—"now, sir, I'll tell you an anecdote of Dr. Franklin." The Convention of '88, of which Dr. Franklin and myself were members, had been engaged several weeks in framing the present Constitution, and had done nothing. Dr. Franklin came in one morning, and rising in his place, called the attention of the house.—"We have been here, Mr. Speaker," said he, (George Washington was in the chair,) "a long time, trying to act on this important subject, and have done nothing; and in place of a speedy and successful close of our business, we see nothing but dark clouds of difficulty and embarrassment gathering before us. It in high time for us, Mr. Speaker, to call in the direction of a wisdom above our own.—(The countenance of Washington caught a brightness at these words, as he leaned forward in deepest gaze on Dr. Franklin.) Yes, sir, it is high time for us to call in the direction of a wisdom above our own. Our fathers before us, the wise and good men of ancient times, acted in this way. Aware of the difficulties and perils that attend all human enterprize, they never engaged in any thing of importance without having implored the guidance and blessing of heaven. The scriptures are full of encouragements to such practice. They every where assert a particular providence over all his works. They assure us that the very hairs of our head are all numbered; and that not even a sparrow but is continually under the eye of his parental care. This, Mr. Speaker, is the language of the gospel, which I most implicitly believe; and which promises the guidance of divine wisdom to all who ask it. We have not asked it; and that may be the reason why we have been so long in the dark. I therefore move, Mr. Speaker, that it be made a rule to open the business of this house, every morning, with prayer."
The following also will show Dr. Franklin's firm belief in that very precious article of the religion of Christ—a particular providence.
To William Strahan, Esq. London
France, August 19th, 1784.
Dear Old Friend,
You "fairly acknowledge that the date war terminated quite contrary to your expectation." Your expectation was ill founded; for you would not believe your old friend, who told you repeatedly, that, by those measures, England would lose her colonies, as Epictetus warned in vain his master, that he would break his leg. You believed rather the tales you heard of our poltroonery, and impotence of body and mind. Don't you remember the story you told me of the Scotch sergeant, who met with a party of forty American soldiers, and, though alone, disarmed them all, and brought them in prisoners! A story almost as improbable as that of the Irishman, who pretended to have alone taken and brought in five of the enemy, by surrounding them. And yet, my friend, sensible and judicious as you are, but partaking of the general infatuation, you seem to believe it. The word general puts me in mind of a general, your general Clark, who had the folly to say, in my hearing, at sir John Pringle's, that with a thousand British grenadiers, he would undertake to go from one end of America to the other, and geld all the males. It is plain, he took us for a species of animals very little superior to brutes. The parliament, too, believed the stories of another foolish general, I forget his name, that the Yankees never felt bold. Yankee was understood to be a sort of Yahoo, and the parliament did not think the petitions of such creatures were fit to be received and read in so wise an assembly. What was the consequence of this monstrous pride and insolence! You first sent small armies to subdue us, believing them more than sufficient, but soon found yourselves obliged to send greater; these, whenever they ventured out of sight of their ships, were either obliged to scamper, or were beaten and taken prisoners. An American planter, who had never seen Europe, was chosen by us to command our troops, and continued during the whole war. This man sent home to you, one after another, five of your best generals, baffled, their heads bare of laurels, disgraced even in the opinion of their employers. Your contempt of our understandings, in comparison with your own, appeared to be not much better founded than that of our courage, if we may judge by this circumstance, that in whatever court of Europe a Yankee negotiator appeared, the wise British minister was routed,—put in a passion,—picked a quarrel with your friends,—and was sent home with a flea in his ear. But after all, my dear friend, do not imagine that I am vain enough to ascribe our success to any superiority in any of those points. I am too well acquainted with all the springs and levers of our machine, not to see that our human means were unequal to our undertaking, and that, if it had not been for the justice of our cause, and the consequent interposition of Providence, in which we had faith, we must have been ruined. If I had ever before been an Atheist, I should now have been convinced of the being and government of a Deity! It is HE who "abases the proud, and exalts the humble." May we never forget his goodness to us, and may our future conduct manifest our gratitude!
B. FRANKLIN.
Now, can any honest man, after this, entertain a doubt that Dr. Franklin was indeed, "in practice very much a christian."
I am aware that some, good men have been offended, and I may add, grieved too, that Dr. Franklin should ever have spoken slightingly of faith, &c. But these gentlemen may rest assured, that Dr. Franklin did this only to keep people from laying such stress on faith, &c. as to neglect what is infinitely more important, even Love and Good Works. And in this grand view, do not the holy apostles, and even Christ himself treat these things in the same way? Every where speaking of "faith and baptism and long prayers," when attempted to be put in place of love and good works, as mere "beggarly elements," and even "damning hypocrisies." However, let honest men read the following letter on the subject, by Dr. Franklin himself. While it serves to remove their doubts and prejudices, it may go to prove that if he had errors in religion, they were not the errors of the heart, nor likely to do any harm in the world; but contrariwise, to make us all much better christians, and happier men, than we are.
The letter is in answer to one from an illustrious foreigner; who, on a trip to Philadelphia, made Dr. Franklin a visit. The doctor, for some malady, advised him to try electricity; and actually gave him several shocks. He had not long been gone, before he wrote Dr. Franklin a most flattering account of the effects of his electricity—begged him to be assured he should never forget such kindness—and concluded with praying that they might both have grace to live a life of Faith, that if they were never to meet again in this world, they might at last meet in heaven.
DR. FRANKLIN'S ANSWER
Philadelphia, June 6, 1753.
Sir,
I received your kind letter of the 2d instant, and am glad that you increase in strength; I hope you will continue mending till you recover your former health.
As to the kindness you mention, the only thanks I desire is, that you would always be equally ready to serve any other person that may need your assistance, and so let good offices go round, for mankind are all of a family.
For my own part, when I am employed in serving others, I do not look upon myself as conferring favours, but as paying debts. In my travels, and since my settlement, I have received much kindness from men, to whom I shall never have any opportunity of making the least direct return—and numberless mercies from God, who is infinitely above being benefitted by our services. The kindness from men, I can, therefore, only return on their fellow men, and I can only show my gratitude for those mercies from God, by a readiness to help his other children, and my brethren. For I do not think that thanks and compliments, though repeated weekly, can discharge our real obligations to each other, and much less those to our Creator. You will see in this, my notion of good works; that I am far from expecting, as you suppose, to merit heaven by them. By heaven, we understand a state of happiness; infinite in degree, and eternal in duration. I can do nothing to deserve such rewards. He that, for giving a draught of water to a thirsty person, should expect to be paid with a good plantation, would be modest in his demands, compared with those who think they deserve heaven for the little good they do on earth. Even the mixed imperfect pleasures we enjoy in this world, are rather from God's goodness, than our merit; how much more such happiness as heaven. For my part, I have not the vanity to think I deserve it, the folly to expect it, nor the ambition to desire it; but content myself in submitting to the will and disposal of that God who made me—who has hitherto preserved and blessed me—and in whose fatherly goodness I may well confide, that he will never make me miserable—and that even the afflictions I may at any time suffer shall tend to my benefit.
The faith you mention has, doubtless, its use in the world. I do not desire to see it diminished. But I wish it were more productive of good works than I have generally seen it, I mean real good works; works of kindness, charity, mercy, and public spirit; not holiday keeping, sermon reading or hearing, performing church ceremonies, or making long prayers, filled with flatteries and compliments, despised even by wise men, and much less capable of pleasing the Deity. The worship of God is a duty; the hearing and reading of sermons may be useful; but if men rest in hearing and praying, as too many do, it is as if a tree should value itself on being watered and putting forth leaves, though it never produced any fruit. Your great master thought much less of these outward appearances and professions than many of his modern disciples. He preferred the doers of the word to the mere hearers; the son that seemingly refused to obey his father, and yet performed his commands, to him that professed his readiness, but neglected the work; the heretical but charitable Samaritan, to the uncharitable though orthodox priest and sanctified Levite: and those who gave food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, raiment to the naked, entertainment to the stranger, and relief to the sick, though they never heard of his name, he declares they shall in the last day be accepted, when those who cry Lord, Lord, who value themselves on their faith, though great enough to perform miracles, but have neglected good works, shall be rejected. He professed he came "not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance," which implied his modest opinion, that there were some in his time so good, that they needed not to hear even him for improvement; but now-a-days, we have scarce a little parson that does not think it the duty of every man within his reach, to think exactly as he does, and that all dissenters offend God. I wish to such more humility, and to you health and happiness, being
Your friend and servant,
B. FRANKLIN.
What but the spirit of immortal love, which, not content with doing much good in life, fondly looks beyond, and feasts on the happiness that others are to derive from us long after we have ceased to live on earth; what, I ask, but that love, could have dictated
DR. FRANKLIN'S WILL
"When thou makest a feast, call not thy rich neighbours: lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee.
"But when thou makest a feast, call the poor; and thou shalt be blessed. For they cannot recompense thee, for thou shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.
"Luke, xiv."
Sentiments divinely sublime!—Who, without emotions indescribable, can read them! And yet if they were lost from the Bible, they might be found again in the Will of Benjamin Franklin.
While many others "rise early, and late take rest, and eat the bread of labour and care," that they may "die rich"—leaving their massy treasures, some scanty legacies excepted, to corrupt a few proud relatives, doctor Franklin acted as though the above text, the true sublime of wisdom and benevolence, was before him.
After having bequeathed his books, a most voluminous and valuable collection, partly to his family, and partly to the Boston and Philadelphia philosophical societies; and, after having divided a handsome competence among his children, and grand children, he goes on as follows:
"I. Having owed my first instructions in literature to the free grammar schools in Boston, I give one hundred pounds sterling to the free schools in that town, to be laid out in silver medals as honorary rewards for the encouragement of scholarship in those schools.
"II. All the debts to my post-office establishment, which I held many years, I leave to the Philadelphia hospital.
"III. Having always been of opinion, that in democratical governments, there ought to be no offices of great profit, I have long determined to give a part of my public salary to public uses; and being chiefly indebted to Massachusetts, my native state, and Pennsylvania, my adopted state, for lucrative employments, I feel it my duty to remember them; and having from long observation, and my own early experience, discovered that the best objects for assistance are indigent young persons, and the best modes of assistance, a plain education, a good trade, and a little money to set them up; and having been set up in business, while a poor boy, in Philadelphia, by kind loans of money from two friends there, which was the foundation of my fortune and all the usefulness that the world ascribed to me, I feel a wish to be useful, after my death, to others, in the loans of money; I therefore devote, from the savings of my salaries, the following sums, to the following persons and uses:
"1. To the inhabitants of Boston and Philadelphia, one thousand pounds sterling to each city, to be let out by the oldest divines of different churches, on a five per cent. interest and good security, to indigent young tradesmen, not bachelors, (as they have not deserved much from their country and the feebler sex,) but married men."
"2. No borrower to have more than sixty pounds sterling, nor less than fifteen."
"3. And in order to serve as many as possible in their turn, as well as to make the payment of the principal borrowed more easy, each borrower shall be obliged to pay, with the yearly interest, one tenth part of the principal; which sums of principal and interest, so paid, shall be again lent out to fresh borrowers.
"B. FRANKLIN."
In a late Boston paper, the friends of humanity have read with much pleasure that doctor Franklin's legacy to the indigent young married tradesmen of that town, of $4444 44 cents, is now increased to $10,902 28 cents, after having been the means of setting up 206 poor young men, besides 75 others, who are now in the use of the capital.
CHAPTER XLV
The Death of Doctor Franklin
One cannot read the biography of this great man without being put in mind of those sweet though simple strains of the bard of Zion.
"Happy the man, whose tender care
Relieves the poor distrest;
When he's with troubles compass'd round,
The Lord shall give him rest."
"If, he in languishing estate,
Oppress'd with sickness, lie,
The Lord shall easy make his bed,
And inward strength supply."
The latter end of doctor Franklin affords glorious proof that nothing so softens the bed of sickness, and brightens the gloom of the grave, as a life spent in works of love to mankind.
See George Washington, who by an active and disinterested benevolence, was called "The Father of his Country." See Martha Washington, who by domestic virtues, and extensive charities, obtained to herself the high character of "the Mother to the Poor."—Both of these found the last bed spread as it were with roses; and the last enemy converted into a friend. Such is the lot of all who love; "not in word, but in deed and in truth."
The friends of doctor Franklin never entered his chamber without being struck with this precious text, "Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." Though laid on the bed whence he is to rise no more, he shows no sign of dejection or defeat. On the contrary, he appears like an aged warrior reposing himself after glorious victory; while his looks beaming with benevolence, express an air pure and serene as the Heaven to which he is going. Death, which most sick people are so unwilling to mention, was to him a favourite topic, and the sublime conversations of Socrates on that great subject, were heard a second time, from the lips of our American Franklin, pregnant with "immortality and eternal life." No wonder then that with such views doctor Franklin should have been so cheerful on his dying bed; so self-possessed and calm, even under the tortures of the gravel, which was wearing him down to the grave. "Don't go away," said he to the Rev. Dr. Colline, of the Swedes' church, Philadelphia, who, as a friend, was much with him in his last illness, and at sight of his agonies and cold sweats under the fits of the gravel, would take up his hat to retire—"O no! don't go away," he would say, "don't go away. These pains will soon be over. They are for my good. And besides, what are the pains of a moment in comparison of the pleasures of eternity."
Blest with an excellent constitution, well nursed by nature's three great physicians, temperance, exercise, and cheerfulness, he was hardly ever sick until after his seventy-sixth year. The gout and gravel then attacked him with great severity. He bore their excruciating tortures as became one who habitually felt that he was as he said, in the hands of an infinitely wise and benevolent being, who did all things right.
His physician, the celebrated Dr. Jones, published the following account of his last illness.
"The stone, had for the last twelve months confined him chiefly to his bed; and during the extreme painful paroxysms, he was obliged to take large doses of laudanum to mitigate his tortures—still in the intervals of pain, he not only amused himself with reading and conversing with his family, and his friends who visited him, but was often employed in doing business of a public as well as private nature, with various persons who waited on him for that purpose, and in every instance displayed, not only that readiness of doing good, which was the distinguishing characteristic of his life, but the fullest possession of his uncommon mental abilities; and not unfrequently indulged himself in those flashes of wit and entertaining anecdotes, which were the delight of all who heard him.
"About sixteen days before his death, he was seized with a pain in his left breast, which increased till it became extremely acute, attended with a cough and laborious breathing. During this state, when the severity of his pains some times drew forth a groan, he would observe, that, he was afraid he did not bear them as he ought—acknowledged his grateful sense of the many blessings he had received from the Supreme Being, who had raised him from small and low beginnings to such high rank and consideration among men—and made no doubt but his present afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from a world, in which he was no longer fit to act the part assigned him. In this frame of body and mind he continued till five days before his death, when an imposthumation in his lungs, suddenly burst, and discharged a great quantity of matter, which he continued to throw up while he had strength, but, as that failed, the organs of respiration became gradually oppressed—a calm lethargic state succeeded—and, on the 7th of April, 1790, about eleven o'clock at night he quietly expired, closing a long and useful life of eighty-four years and three months."
Come holy calm of the soul! Expressive silence come! and meditating the mighty talents of the dead, and their constant application to the glory of the giver, let us ascend with him on the wings of that blessed promise, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord! even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours and their works do follow them."
That Franklin is now enjoying that rest which "remaineth for the people of God"—and that while many a blood-stained monster who made great noise in the world, is followed by the cries of thousands of widows and orphans, Franklin dying in the Lord, and followed by the blessings of thousands, fed, clothed, educated, and enriched by his charities, is in glory, may be fairly inferred from the following most valuable anecdote of him.
Naturalists tell us, that so great is the paternal care of God, that every climate affords the food and physic best suited to the necessaries of its population. What gratitude is due to that goodness, which foreseeing the dangers impending over this country from British injustice, sent us two such protectors as Franklin and Washington? The first, (the forerunner of the second,) like the lightning of Heaven, to expose the approaching tempest; and the second, like the rock of the ocean, to meet that tempest in all its fury, and dash it back on its proud assailants? And how astonishing too, and almost unexampled that goodness, which with talents of wisdom and fortitude to establish our republic, combined the cardinal virtues of justice, industry, and economy that alone can render our republic immortal?
Hoping that our youth may be persuaded to love and imitate the virtues of the men whose great names they have been accustomed, from the cradle, to lisp with veneration, I have long coveted to set these virtues before them. The grey haired men of other days, have given me their aid. The following I obtained from the Rev. Dr. Helmuth, of the German church, Philadelphia. Hearing that this learned and pious divine possessed a valuable anecdote of doctor Franklin, I immediately waited on him. "Yes, sir," said he, "I have indeed a valuable anecdote of doctor Franklin, which I would tell you with great pleasure; but as I do not speak English very well, I wish you would call on David Ritter, at the sign of the Golden Lamb, in Front street; he will tell it to you better. I hastened to Mr Ritter, and told him my errand. He seemed mightily pleased at it, and said, "Yes, I will tell you all I know of it. You must understand then, sir, first of all, that I always had a prodigious opinion of doctor Franklin, as the usefulest man we ever had among us, by a long way; and so hearing that he was sick, I thought I would go and see him. As I rapped at the door, who should come and open it but old Sarah Humphries. I was right glad to see her, for I had known her a long time. She was of the people called Friends; and a mighty good sort of body she was too. The great people set a heap of store by her, for she was famous throughout the town for nursing and tending on the sick. Indeed, many of them, I believe, hardly thought they could sicken, and die right if they had not old Sarah Humphries with them. Soon as she saw me, she said, 'Well David, how dost?'"
"'O, much after the old sort, Sarah,' said I; 'but that's neither here nor there; I am come to see doctor Franklin.'
"'Well then,' said she, 'thou art too late, for he is just dead!'
"'Alack a day,' said I, 'then a great man is gone.'
"'Yes, indeed,' said she, 'and a good one too; for it seemed as though he never thought the day went away as it ought, if he had not done somebody a service. However, David,' said she, 'he is not the worse off for all that now, where he is gone to: but come, as thee came to see Benjamin Franklin, thee shall see him yet.' And so she took me into his room. As we entered, she pointed to him, where he lay on his bed, and said, 'there, did thee ever see any thing look so natural?'
"And he did look natural indeed. His eyes were close—but that you saw he did not breathe, you would have thought he was in a sweet sleep, he looked so calm and happy. Observing that his face was fixed right towards the chimney, I cast my eyes that way, and behold! just above the mantle-piece was a noble picture! O it was a noble picture, sure enough! It was the picture of our Saviour on the cross.
"I could not help calling out, 'Bless us all, Sarah!' said I, 'what's all this?'
"'What dost mean, David,' said she, quite crusty.
"'Why, how came this picture here, Sarah?' said I, 'you know that many people think he was not after this sort.'
"'Yes,' said she, 'I know that too. But thee knows that many who makes a great fuss about religion have very little, while some who say but little about it have a good deal.'
"'That's sometimes the case, I fear, Sarah,' said I.
"'Well, and that was the case,' said she, 'with Benjamin Franklin. But be that as it may, David, since thee asks me about this great picture, I'll tell thee how it came here. Many weeks ago, as he lay, he beckoned me to him, and told me of this picture up stairs, and begged I would bring it to him. I brought it to him. His face brightened up as he looked at it; and he said, 'Aye, Sarah,' said he, 'there's a picture worth looking at! that's the picture of him who came into the world to teach men to love one another!' Then after looking wistfully at it for some time, he said, 'Sarah,' said he, 'set this picture up over the mantlepiece, right before me as I lie; for I like to look at it,' and when I had fixed it up, he looked at it, and looked at it very much; and indeed, as thee sees, he died with his eyes fixed on it.'"
Happy Franklin! Thus doubly blest! Blest in life, by a diligent co-working with "the great Shepherd," in his precepts of perfect love.—Blest in death, with his closing eyes piously fixed upon him, and meekly bowing to the last summons in joyful hope that through the force of his divine precepts, the "wintry storms" of hate will one day pass away, and one "eternal spring of love and peace encircle all."
Now Franklin in his lifetime had written for himself an epitaph, to be put upon his grave, that honest posterity might see that he was no unbeliever, as certain enemies had slandered him, but that he firmly believed "that his Redeemer liveth; and that in the latter day he shall stand upon the earth; and that though worms destroyed his body, yet in his flesh he should see God."
"THE BODY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, PRINTER, LIKE THE COVER OF AN OLD BOOK, its contents torn out, and stripped of its lettering and gilding, lies here food for worms
Yet the work itself shall not be lost; for it will, as he believed, appear once more IN A NEW and more beautiful edition, corrected and amended BY THE AUTHOR."
This epitaph was never put upon his tomb. But the friend of man needs no stone of the valley to perpetuate his memory. It lives among the clouds of heaven. The lightnings, in their dreadful courses, bow to the genius of Franklin. His magic rods, pointed to the skies, still watch the irruptions of the fiery meteors. They seize them by their hissing heads as they dart forth from the dark chambers of the thunders; and cradled infants, half waked by the sudden glare, are seen to curl the cherub smile hard by the spot where the dismal bolts had fallen.
