Behind these superb sentiments, there was, of course, a subtle, crucial struggle for personal advantage. The two men, although they liked and respected each other on sight, were nevertheless antagonists, duelists almost, in the struggle for the high ground of statesmanship and magnanimity. Lord Howe had tried to maneuver Franklin into negotiating as a man transcending personal resentments, and thus more likely to make concessions. Franklin had firmly and serenely restored the balance to his favor by claiming that personal resentment as such did not exist in his mind. Howe could only express delight at such a sentiment and asked Franklin to draw up in writing some propositions that might form the basis of a negotiation. He then practically admitted the ministry’s vulnerability by suggesting that it might be better if Franklin was not seen at his house, or he at Craven Street. It would be wiser, he blandly suggested if they continued to meet here, at his sister’s house, where people were now used to seeing Franklin come and go for his chess matches.
Franklin agreed. A few nights later, the ministry made another pass at him, this time through his old friend, Thomas Pownall, ex-governor of Massachusetts. Pownall was now in Parliament, forlornly calling for a full reform of colonial administration. He told Franklin that Lord North did not personally approve of the punitive acts; he had sponsored them in compliance with the majority of the cabinet who favored repression. Pownall tried to make points by discussing how hard he was working to change Lord North’s mind about Franklin. His Lordship, according to Pownall, looked on Franklin “as the great fomenter of the opposition in America, and as a great adversary to any accommodation.” Pownall’s solution was an envoy or commissioner to America to settle the differences. He envisioned himself as the man and hoped to have Franklin beside him, to cast an authentic aura of pro-Americanism about him.”
At his next meeting with Lord Howe, Franklin saw more evidence of the web the ministry was attempting to weave around him. Howe began by assuring him “of a certainty” that there was “a sincere disposition” in Lord North and Lord Dartmouth to accommodate the differences with America. He then asked Franklin what he thought of sending “some person or persons over, commissioned to inquire into the grievances of America upon the spot.” Franklin said he thought that “a person of rank and dignity who had a character of candor, integrity and wisdom might possibly, if employed in that service, be of great use.” Miss Howe, who was present once more as what modern diplomats might call the negotiators’ cover, said, “I wish, brother, you were to be sent thither on such a service; I should like that much better than General Howe’s going to command the army there.”
This was probably not the first time that Franklin heard the strong rumor that the family’s youngest brother, William Howe, was to be commissioned a major general and sent to Boston to bolster the government’s military posture there.
“I think, Madam,” said Franklin, “they ought to provide for General Howe some more honourable employment.”
With a smile, Lord Howe now took from his pocket a paper and said, “If it is not an unfair question, may I ask whether you know anything of this paper?”
A glance told Franklin it was a copy of his Hints, in David Barclay’s handwriting. He readily admitted he was the author. Instantly, Lord Howe became grave. He said he was “rather sorry” to find that Franklin had written it, because it had lowered his hopes of a reconciliation. There was no likelihood that most of the propositions in the “Hints” would ever be accepted by Parliament. Lord Howe begged Franklin to reconsider the subject and form a more acceptable plan, waxing eloquent on the service the creator of such a plan would do for the nation and adding, although he did not think of influencing Franklin “by any selfish motives,” he could expect “any reward in the power of government to bestow.”
This reappearance of the ugly British opinion that every man had his price made Franklin recoil. In telling the story later, he called it “spitting in the soup.” Nevertheless, he agreed to draw “some sketch of a plan.” Verging on super secrecy, and hoping that he had wrung the promise of a concession from Franklin, Howe said it might be best to send it to his sister, who would copy it and send the copy to him and return the original to Franklin. This way, Franklin need have no fear that his “constituents in America, with whom he had to keep well” might someday in the style of the Hutchinson letters see written proof that Franklin had sold them out.
But Franklin was much too shrewd to place such a weapon in his enemy’s hands. No matter what he said, he would never trust the North ministry with such a document, even if it was an unsigned copy. Moreover, the British, after having first underestimated Franklin’s importance, were now ballooning him into a superman, who really had the power to speak for all of America. Actually, Franklin’s instructions from the Continental Congress extended only to submitting the petition to Parliament. Everything else he said was entirely unofficial. But overriding both these realities was the undoubted fact that Franklin was in whole souled agreement with the spirit of American resistance. If he still had a dwindling hope of avoiding war, and keeping America within the structure of the empire, he was determined to make sure it was on a footing of total equality.
A few days later he sent a paper to Miss Howe which is one of the saddest and also one of the greatest he ever wrote. It is both a state paper and a moving personal testament to Franklin’s wisdom and humanity. No previous Franklin biographer has ever printed it in full. It deserves to be read, not only for the purity of its language, but also because no other document so totally (if indirectly) indicts the rulers of Great Britain in 1775 as men of monumental stupidity and blindness. Nothing else satisfactorily explains how they could have read, and ignored, such advice.
It is supposed to be the wish on both sides not merely to put a stop to the mischief at present threatening the general welfare, but to cement a cordial union, and remove, not only every real grievance, but every cause of jealousy and suspicion.
With this view, the first thing necessary is to know what is, by the different parties in the dispute, thought essentially necessary for the obtaining such a union.
The American Congress in their petition to the King have been explicit, declaring that by a repeal of the oppressive acts therein complained of, the harmony between Great Britain and the colonies, so necessary to the happiness of both and so ardently desired of them, will, with the usual intercourse, be immediately restored.
If it has been thought reasonable here to expect that, previous to an alteration of measures, the colonies should make some declaration respecting their future conduct, they have also done that by adding: That when the causes of their apprehensions are removed, their future conduct will prove them not unworthy of the regard they have been accustomed in their happier days to enjoy.
For their sincerity in these declarations, they solemnly call to witness the Searcher of all hearts.
If Britain can have any reliance on these declarations (and perhaps none to be extorted by force can be more relied on than these, which are thus freely made), she may without hazard to herself try the expedient proposed, since if it fails she has it in her power at any time to resume her present measures.
It is then proposed: That Britain should show some confidence in these declarations, by repealing all the laws, or parts of laws, that are requested to be repealed in the petition of the Congress to the King;
And that at the same time, orders should be given to withdraw the fleet from Boston, and remove all the troops to Quebec or the Floridas, that the colonies may be left at perfect liberty in their future stipulations.
That this may, for the honour of Britain, appear not the effect of any apprehension from the measures entered into and recommended to the people by the Congress, but from good will, and a change of disposition towards the colonies, with a sincere desire of reconciliation, let some of their other grievances, which in their petition they have left to the magnanimity and justice of the King and Parliament, be at the same time removed, such as those relating
to the payment of governors’ and judges’ salaries, and the instructions for dissolving Assemblies, etc.
And to give the colonies an immediate opportunity of demonstrating the reality of their professions, let their proposed ensuing Congress be authorized by government (as was that held at Albany in 1754), and a person of weight and dignity of character be appointed to preside at it on behalf of the Crown.
And then let requisition be made to the Congress, of such points as government wishes to obtain for its future security, for aids, for the advantage of general commerce, for reparation to the India Company, etc., etc.
A generous confidence thus placed in the colonies will give ground to the friends of government there, in their endeavours to procure from America every reasonable concession or engagement, and every substantial aid that can fairly be desired.
Mournfully, a few days later, Howe sent a note to his sister, that from the “sentiments” of Franklin’s message, “the desired accommodation threatens to be attended with much greater difficulty than I had flattered myself . . . there would be reason to apprehend.” Howe said he would forward Franklin’s message to the ministry, but obviously with very little hope. A week later, early in January 1775, another message came from Howe. He asked, again through his sister, if Franklin would personally “engage” to pay for the tea “as a preliminary.” He also wanted to know if the idea of Congress supplying England with aid in the form of requisitions was still a viable idea. Franklin replied that the requisition idea was still very much alive. But as for the tea, the people of Boston were hardly likely to approve of paying now, when “twenty times as much injury” has been done to them by blocking up the port.
In the meantime, the newly elected Parliament convened for its first session. Franklin had been in communication with Lord Chatham. He had gone to Hays, Chatham’s country estate, to show him the petition of the Continental Congress, almost as soon as it arrived, and the statesman had expressed enthusiastic approval of the American proceedings. Now he received a card from Lord Stanhope, a country neighbor of Chatham, asking him to attend the House of Lords the following day. Lord Chatham was to make a motion concerning America and had specifically, asked his friend to bring Franklin to witness the debate. At the door Chatham created a considerable stir when he loudly declared, “This is Dr. Franklin, whom I would have admitted into the house.” Political tipsters rushed in all directions to spread the news that the great man and Benjamin Franklin had formed an alliance. While Franklin watched tensely, Chatham arose and submitted a resolution calling on the King to withdraw the troops from Boston before “any sudden and fatal catastrophe” occurred. A close associate of Chatham, Lord Camden, rose to support him and won Franklin’s praise as “another wonderfully good speaker and clear close reasoner.”
From the ministry came an angry denunciation of the motion, in words that were not likely to brighten Franklin’s already dim optimism. Lord Suffolk rose to insist that “the mother country should never relax till America confessed her supremacy.... Any concession on our parts, to the right on which all our pretensions were founded . . . would be to the last degree impolitic, pusillanimous and absurd.” It was, he thundered, “high time for the mother country to exert her authority, or forever relinquish it. . . I should scorn to continue one of His Majesty’s ministers, and not advise coercive measures, when I was so firmly and fully convinced of their necessity; and I take a particular pride in avowing those sentiments; and mean steadily to abide by them at all events.” He closed by broadening his personal rejection and speaking for the whole North cabinet, declaring “the ministerial resolution of enforcing obedience by arms.”
The motion was rejected. “Sixteen Scotch peers and twenty-four bishops, with all the Lords in possession or expectation of places, when they vote together unanimously, as they generally do for ministerial measures, make a dead majority,” Franklin said. All the eloquence of Chatham and Camden and several others who joined them “availed no more than the whistling of the winds.” After some tepid debate, the House of Commons also refused to consider the petition from the Continental Congress on the grounds that the Congress was not a legally constituted body. Permission for Franklin to submit it was refused by 218 to 68.
In spite of his disappointment, Franklin was deeply moved by Chatham’s courageous stand on America’s behalf. He was even more touched when Lord Stanhope, at Chatham’s request, sent him the copy of the original paper from which he had read the motion. Franklin sat down and dashed off the following note:
Dr. Franklin presents his best respects to Lord Stanhope, with many thanks to His Lordship and Lord Chatham for the communication of so authentic a copy of the motion. Dr. F. is filled with admiration of that truly great man. He has seen, in the course of life, sometimes eloquence without wisdom, and often wisdom without eloquence; in the present instance he sees both united, and both as he thinks, in the highest degree possible.
At one point during the debate on the motion, one of the ministry’s spokesmen had scornfully remarked that it was easy to criticize their measures, but no one had proposed anything better. Lord Chatham had arisen to declare that he was not one of those “idle censurers” and he solemnly informed the ministers that he planned to lay before the Parliament a comprehensive program for healing. America’s differences and restoring peace to the empire. In the next week, Chatham discussed this plan with only two persons, Lord Camden, who checked it for legality, and Benjamin Franklin to make sure that in substance at least, it would be acceptable to America.
Franklin did not agree with all aspects of the plan. It emphasized in sweeping terms the imperial authority of the British Parliament, although it surrendered to Americans the exclusive right to levy their own taxes. Chatham twice called on Franklin in Craven Street, a high honor which Franklin admitted “flattered not a little my vanity.” His second call was on Sunday, January 29, 1775, and he stayed nearly two hours, his coach practically filling the narrow street. All London was abuzz with the news before the day was over. That particular visit, Franklin said, “gave me the more pleasure as it happened on the very day twelve-month that the ministry had taken so much pains to disgrace me before the Privy Council.” Although Franklin tried hard to deny the wound, it was still there.
He had little or no success in altering Lord Chatham’s plan. On Tuesday, January 31, at their last conference, Franklin went out to his country mansion and stayed “near four hours.” The great orator overwhelmed Franklin with a flow of words that was so eloquent, Franklin admitted, “I found little inclination to interrupt him.” He covered barely half the points he wanted to correct, and even those he covered were left unchanged because it was more important, at a first reading, to meet the prevailing prejudices of Parliament. In the blank Lord Chatham had left, for the titles of the American acts Chatham wished repealed, Franklin copied for him a list from the proceedings of the Continental Congress — a task he dismissed as something that might have been done “by any copying clerk.” But it must have given him considerable pleasure. The next day Lord Stanhope once more brought Franklin down to the House of Lords and Lord Chatham laid his plan before the House, which was crowded with both peers and members of the Commons, all of them conscious that a climactic Moment in the crisis was at hand.
Flattering as Chatham’s tactics were to Franklin, showing his bill to only two people before he introduced it was not good parliamentary politics. The members of the Opposition, most of whom were either independents or grouped around other peers such as Lord Rockingham, were totally uninformed and inevitably disorganized. Few politicians are content to obey the dictates of a leader as imperious as Chatham unless the country is imminently threatened with destruction. In what Franklin called “an excellent speech,” Chatham presented his plan. Along with his somewhat contradictory assertion of Parliamentary supremacy and America’s exclusive right to tax itself, he called on Parliament to recognize the Philadelphia Congress as a lawful assembly, and remove most of the other griev
ances that were alienating the Americans.
What happened next revealed in the starkest possible terms the schizophrenia within the North ministry. Lord Dartmouth, as the American secretary, rose first to reply to Chatham. He showed how much he yearned to make even a gesture of conciliation by saying that the plan contained “matter of such weight and magnitude as to require much consideration; he therefore hoped the noble Earl would not expect their lordships to decide upon it by an immediate vote.” Lord Chatham quickly replied that he “expected nothing more.”
Up sprang Lord Sandwich, perhaps the most bellicose man in North’s ministry. In what Franklin called a “petulant, vehement speech” he called for the immediate rejection of Chatham’s plan “with the contempt it deserved.” Shrilly Sandwich declaimed that he could never believe the plan “to be the production of any British peer.” On the contrary, it appeared to him “rather the work of some American.”
As he said these words he turned his haughty sallow face toward Franklin, who was leaning on the bar of the house. Yes, Sandwich shrilled; he fancied he had in his eye the very person who had drawn it up, “one of the bitterest and most mischievous enemies this country had ever known.” Almost every eye in this august conclave of England’s nobility was instantly fastened on Franklin. But as in his earlier ordeal at the Privy Council; he maintained an expression “as immovable as if my features had been made of wood.”
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