Franklin (9 page)

Early in 1776, more Americans began to realize Franklin was right: Independence was America's only hope. The king had declared the colonies in revolt, forbade all nations to trade with them, and authorized the seizure of American ships on the high seas.

Meanwhile, on January 10, 1776, Franklin's friend,
Thomas Paine
, published a forty-seven-page pamphlet called
Common Sense
. It was an attack on two ideas that prevented most Americans from voting for independence - loyalty to the king and the British Constitution. The pamphlet was a sensation; in less than three months, 120,000 copies were sold. Many thought Franklin had written it, and indeed, Paine may have gotten ideas from Franklin, who had written letters of introduction for him when he came to America from England in 1774. Paine gave Franklin the first pamphlet.

On March 3, Franklin's committee sent a secret agent –
Silas Deane
, a Connecticut merchant - to France. Franklin introduced him to friends in France and counseled Deane on how to deal with French foreign Minister
Charles Gravier
, Count de Vergennes.

A few weeks later, Congress asked Franklin to travel to Canada. An American army was attempting to bring that colony into the revolution, but the British had counterattacked and seemed on the verge of driving the Americans out. Franklin traveled up Lake George and Lake Champlain in open boats, through icy water. He bought a fur hat to keep his balding head warm. Conditions became so grim that Franklin thought at one point he was dying and wrote letters of farewell to friends.

In Canada, he found the army in disarray because it had no money. He struggled back down the lakes to New York. On his return, his legs swelled and boils broke out over his body. He might have died, except for help from Father John Carroll, an American priest who had joined the American mission to persuade the Catholic French Canadians to side with the Americans. But the Catholic Bishop of Quebec preferred the British, and Father Carroll, seeing he was wasting his time and realizing the seriousness of Franklin's condition, offered to make the journey with him. From New York, Franklin wrote friends, “I think I could hardly have got along so far, but for Mister Carroll's friendly assistance and tender care of me.”

In Philadelphia, Franklin discovered his son remained opposed to the revolution. On May 15, 1776, Congress passed a resolution abolishing all “oaths and affirmations” to the crown of Great Britain and called on Americans to suppress royal authority in the colonies. Ignoring this warning, Governor Franklin issued a call for the New Jersey Assembly to meet in Perth Amboy on June l0.

Unfortunately for William, the Third Provincial Congress of New Jersey - the local revolutionary government - was in session and decided William's call was “in direct contempt and violation of the resolve of the Continental Congress.” Members declared William “an enemy of the liberties of this country” and ordered him arrested, and his salary as royal governor “from henceforth to cease.” They urged arresting officers to conduct themselves “with all the delicacy and tenderness which the nature of the business could possibly admit.” If Governor Franklin agreed to sign a parole guaranteeing good conduct, he would be permitted to live on his farm at Rancocas Creek below Burlington.

But William refused to cooperate. He defied soldiers who arrested him and told the Provincial Congress they could “do as you please and make the best of it.” The committeemen informed the Continental Congress William was “a virulent enemy to this country.” On Monday, June 24, the Continental Congress resolved that “William Franklin be sent under guard to Governor Trumbull of [Connecticut].”

For Benjamin Franklin, his son's arrest was the deepest disgrace. He coped with the indignity by feigning ignorance, claiming illness “has kept me from Congress and company . . . so that I know little of what has passed there.” He began the process of vanquishing his son from his thoughts, conversations, and his memoirs. William's place in his will was given to his sister and her family. Franklin's was not the first or the last family torn apart by the revolution. “All families are liable to have degenerate members. Even Adam's had its Cain. Among the twelve Apostles, there was at least one traitor,” summed up New Jersey delegate
William Livingston
, whose nephew was similarly arrested.

William, still fighting for Temple's allegiance, wrote a letter to his son, describing his ordeal. He called the New Jersey committeemen “low mightinesses” and described how they ordered him to travel to Connecticut, despite his claim he was too sick to travel. “Hypocrites always suspect hypocrisy in others,” the governor said. Then he urged Temple “to be dutiful and attentive to your grandfather” and “love Mrs. Franklin for she loves you, and will do all she can for you if I should never return more.”

Throughout the last two weeks in June, Benjamin used his weakened condition, a result of his trip to Canada, as an excuse to avoid attending Congress, doing little in the fight to pass a
declaration of independence
. As the most famous man in Congress and a writer with a worldwide reputation, Franklin seemed to be the logical candidate to write the declaration. But the embarrassment of his Tory son cast a shadow over any role as a revolutionary spokesman. Committee members gave the job to thirty-three-year-old Thomas Jefferson, a delegate without political liabilities.

Franklin made only minor changes in Jefferson's document. Where Jefferson had written “We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable,” Franklin crossed out “sacred and undeniable” and substituted “self-evident.”

Franklin came to Congress to vote in favor of independence on July 2. On the following day, he sat next to Jefferson as Congress examined the declaration and deleted several sections. This annoyed Jefferson. When the shortened version had been approved, Franklin tried to lift Jefferson's spirits. “I have made it a rule,” he said, “whenever in my power to avoid becoming the draftsman of papers to be reviewed by a public body.” To explain why, Franklin told Jefferson a story from his printer days. One friend, an apprentice hatter, decided to open a shop. “His first concern was to have a handsome signboard with a proper inscription. He composed it in these words:
John Thompson, hatter, makes and sells hats for ready money,
with a figure of a hat subjoined. But he thought he would submit it to his friends for their amendments.”

The first man thought the word “hatter” was superfluous because it was followed by the words “makes hats.” Thompson agreed and eliminated it. The next friend observed the word “makes” might as well be omitted, because the customers would not care who made the hats, as long as they were good. Thompson agreed. A third friend suggested eliminating “for ready money” because no local merchants sold on credit. Again Thompson conceded the point. Now his sign read: “John Thompson sells hats.”

“Sells hats,” said his next friend, “why nobody will expect you to give them away. What then is the use of that word?” Again Thompson conceded. Moments later, the word “hats” went into oblivion when another friend pointed out one was painted on the board. So he was left with a sign that said “John Thompson” beneath the painted hat.

It was like Franklin to tell a joke at the moment he was voting for a document that would make him a traitor, liable to be hanged, drawn, and quartered under English law. Contrary to the myth, no one signed the Declaration on July 4. Not until August 2nd was a final copy engrossed on parchment and signed by members of Congress.
John Hancock
, after placing his signature at the head of the list of signers, as befitted the president of Congress, said, “We must be unanimous; there must be no pulling different ways; we must all hang together.”

“Yes,” Franklin replied, “we must indeed all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.”

When Franklin had written his own declaration of independence, in the summer of 1775, he had attached to it Articles of Confederation. Now he threw his energy into persuading Congress to form a union as quickly as possible. But he could not get them to agree. The smaller states - with fewer men and less money - demanded an equal vote with the large states. Franklin warned that having “an equal vote without bearing equal burdens” meant the confederation would “never last long.”

Meanwhile, the British were amassing a huge army on Staten Island, preparing to attack Washington and his amateur soldiers, entrenched on Long Island and in New York. On August 27, the British defeated the Americans on Long Island. Only a miraculous combination of good luck, British overconfidence and foggy weather enabled Washington to escape by night with most of his army to Manhattan Island.

Lord Richard Howe, the British admiral who had tried to negotiate with Franklin in London, appeared in New York harbor as commander of the British navy with a commission from the king to negotiate peace. Franklin and two other congressmen met with Lord Howe on Staten Island, but the conference ended in failure, because Lord Howe's only power was to issue pardons, if and when Americans made their “submission” to the king. Franklin told him Americans did not feel they had done anything that needed pardoning. He also told him independence was an unchangeable fact; Britain must accept that and negotiate with Americans accordingly.

The British reply was a new attack on Washington's army. They stormed ashore at Kips Bay in Manhattan and routed the American recruits. The American army fled, leaving Washington alone on the battlefield. It began to look as if William Franklin was right that the Americans could not hope to defeat Britain's professional army and navy.

More bad news came from France. While Franklin's friends assured him the French government and the French people were sympathetic to the American cause, they revealed that none of the king's ministers “will espouse it with warmth.” France was “over head and ears in debt.” Congress, alarmed by American defeats, decided an alliance with France was essential. Having heard nothing from the secret agent that Franklin's committee had sent to France in March, they decided to send a more impressive ambassador - Benjamin Franklin.

Their decision meant Franklin would have to endure a winter voyage across the Atlantic, which at his age, might kill him. If he were captured by British cruisers crowding the ocean, a traitor's death at the end of a rope in London would be certain. But Franklin was committed to the revolution. Turning to Dr.
Benjamin Rush
of Philadelphia, who sat next to him in Congress, Franklin said, “I am old and good for nothing; but, as the storekeepers say of their remnants of cloth, ‘I am but a fag end, and you may have me for what you please,' just so my country may command my services in any way they choose.”

Franklin's first thoughts as he planned the voyage were of William Temple Franklin, staying with his stepmother in New Jersey. The boy had written his grandfather an angry letter when Franklin had refused to let him visit his father in Wallingford, Connecticut, where Governor Franklin was being held prisoner. If he left Temple behind, the boy likely would become a Loyalist. So Franklin decided to take Temple and rushed a note to the young man in New Jersey, urging him to return to Philadelphia immediately: “I hope … that your mother will make no objection to it, something offering here that will be much to your advantage if you are not out of the way.” Elizabeth wrote to inform William – in a letter delayed because Franklin had ordered all correspondence between them had to pass through him first. “If the old gentleman has taken the boy with him,” William wrote back, “I hope it is only to put him in some foreign university.” Stress and illness had taken its toll on Elizabeth, who now doubted that she would ever see her son or husband again.

Franklin decided to take with him his six-year-old grandson Benjamin Franklin Bache. The war was disrupting schools in America, and Franklin wanted the boy to get the best possible education. So, with his two grandsons for company, Franklin rode to Marcus Hook on the Delaware, where boats transported them to the American sloop
Reprisal.

Franklin's faith in America's future remained unshaken. The day before he sailed, he wrote to a friend in Boston: “I hope our people will keep up their courage. I have no doubt of their finally succeeding by the blessing of God, nor have I any doubt that so good a cause will fail of that blessing.”

The voyage aboard the
Reprisal
was an ordeal. The seas were turbulent and the weather cold. The only food was salt beef and ship's biscuits. Franklin wore the fur hat he had acquired in Canada, but it offered little protection. The boils that tormented him in Canada broke out again, and he grew weaker. His only consolation was the ship's speed.

One day toward the end of the fourth week, the
Reprisal
's captain,
Lambert Wickes
, burst into Franklin's cabin and asked for permission to attack a British ship. Wickes had received orders from Congress to avoid encounters with the enemy until he had deposited Franklin in France, but now they were close to the French shore, and the ship, a merchantman, was a tempting target. Franklin took one look at the boat and gave his permission. The crew of the
Reprisal
raced to quarters, and the British ship surrendered without a shot. A few hours later, Wickes successfully attacked another British ship. Franklin enjoyed seeing American sailors strike a blow at England in her home waters.