Chapter IV: Preface (2)

He was a native of Massachusetts, born near Quincy, in 1737. His father, of the same name, was a clergyman, eminent for his piety, and highly esteemed by the parishioners under his charge. He died during the infancy of his son, and left him under the guardianship of his paternal uncle, who treated him with all the tenderness of a father, and continued him at school until he graduated at Harvard College in 1754. His uncle was a merchant of immense wealth, and, on the completion of his studies, placed him in his counting-house, that he might add to his science a knowledge of business, of men, and of things. In 1760, he visited England, saw the mortal remains of George II. laid in the silent tomb, and the crown placed upon the head of his successor. He continued in the business of his uncle until the age of twenty-seven, when his patron and benefactor died, leaving him his vast estate, supposed to be the largest of any one in the province.

He was, for many years, one of the select men of Boston; and, in 1766, was elected a member of the General Assembly of Massachusetts. He there exhibited talents of a superior order, which attracted the attention, excited the admiration, and gained the esteem of his colleagues. They also excited the jealousy and irony of his enemies, who soon put him in the crucible of slander and persecution; but, after a long trial, he came out like gold seven times tried; he was weighed in the scale of justice, and not found wanting.

As a proof of the high estimation in which he was held when in the assembly, he was placed on the most important committees of that body, and was uniformly chairman. He was also elected speaker, but the governor, who was jealous of his liberal principles, put a veto upon his appointment.

His intelligence had led him to investigate the laws of nature, of God, and of man; he arrived at the conclusion, that men are endowed by their Creator with certain inherent privileges, that they are born equal, and they of right are and should be free. He drank deep from the fountain of liberal principles, and was among the first to repel the blind and cruel policy of the mother country, and rouse his fellow men to a sense of impending danger.

Although deeply interested in commercial business, and more exposed to the wrath of kingly power than any individual in the province, he boldly placed himself at the head of associations for prohibiting the importation of goods from Great Britain. The other provinces caught the fire from these examples; and, to these associations may be traced the preliminaries of the tragic scene, that resulted in the emancipation of the enslaved colonies of the pilgrim fathers.

As an evidence that John Hancock was a leading patriot at that time, the first seizure that was made by the revenue officers, under pretence of some trivial violation of the laws, was that of one of his vessels. The excitement produced by this transaction was so great, that a large number collected to rescue the property. It was moved under the guns of an armed ship, ready charged, to repel any attack. But the popular fury rose like a thunder gust from the western horizon; they rushed to the onset; brought away the vessel, razed to the ground some of the houses occupied by the custom-house officers, and burnt, in triumph, the boat of the collector. This fire was, for a time, smothered by the mantle of authority, but it was never extinguished; it was the fire of Liberty. It only required to be fanned by the impolitic oppression that eventually blew it into curling flames.

To prevent the recurrence of a similar scene, several regiments of British troops, with all their loathsome vices fresh upon them, were quartered amongst the inhabitants. This was like pouring pitch on a fire to extinguish it. The stubborn and independent spirits of Boston were not to be _awed_ into subjection. The consequences were tragical. On the evening of the 5th of March, 1770, a party of these soldiers fired upon, and killed a number of the citizens, who had collected to manifest their indignation against those they _hated_ more than they _feared_. Had an earthquake shook the town to its very centre, the agitation could not have been greater. Had it been melting before devouring flames, the commotion could not have increased.

The tolling of bells; the groans of the wounded and dying; the shrieks of widows, mothers, and orphans; the flight of soldiers; the rush of the inhabitants; the cry of vengeance, urged on by popular fury; all combined to render it a scene of confusion and horror, upon which imagination dwells and sickens; beneath which, description quails and trembles; at the sight of which, humanity bleeds at every pore. It is a commentary, strong and eloquent, upon the impropriety of quartering soldiers amongst citizens, of maintaining civil law by military force, and of intruding upon the _sanctum sanctorum_[B] of private and domestic peace.

[B] Holy or sacred place.

On the following day, a meeting of the inhabitants was held; a committee was appointed, at the head of which were Hancock and Samuel Adams, instructed to request the governor to remove the troops from the town. He at first refused, but finding, under existing circumstances, that discretion was the better part of valour, he ordered their removal. This, with promises that the offenders should be brought to condign punishment, prevented further hostilities at that time.

The awful and imposing solemnities of interring those who were killed, was then attended to. Their bodies were deposited in the same tomb; tears of sorrow, sympathy, and a just indignation, were mingled with the clods as they descended upon the butchered victims; and the event was, for many years, annually commemorated with deep and mournful solemnity. A _te deum_ and _requiem_ were chanted to their memory, and the torch of liberty was replenished at their tomb.

At one of these celebrations, in the midst of the revolution, John Hancock delivered the address. A few brief extracts will give the reader some idea of the feelings and sentiments that pervaded his bosom, and of his powers as an orator and a statesman.

“Security to the persons and property of the governed, is so evidently the design and end of civil government, that to attempt a logical demonstration of it, would be like burning a taper at noon day, to assist the sun in enlightening the world. It cannot be either virtuous or honourable to attempt to support institutions of which this is not the great and principal basis.”

“Some boast of being friends to government: I also am a friend to government, to a righteous government, founded upon the principles of reason and justice; but I glory in avowing my eternal enmity to tyranny.”

He then proceeded to portray, in vivid colours, the wrongs inflicted by the mother country, and urged his fellow citizens to vindicate their injured rights.

In speaking of the Boston massacre, his language shows the emotions of his heaving bosom, the feelings of his indignant soul.

“I come reluctantly to the transactions of that dismal night, when, in such quick succession, we felt the extremes of grief, astonishment, and rage; when Heaven, in anger, suffered hell to take the reins; when Satan, with his chosen band, opened the sluices of New England’s blood, and sacrilegiously polluted her land with the bodies of her guiltless sons.

“Let this sad tale never be told without a tear; let not the heaving bosom cease to burn with a manly indignation at the relation of it through the long tracts of future time; let every parent tell the story to his listening children, till the tears of pity glisten in their eyes, or boiling passion shakes their tender frames.

“Dark and designing knaves, murderous parricides! how dare you tread upon the earth which has drunk the blood of slaughtered innocence shed by your hands? How dare you breathe that air, which wafted to the ear of heaven the groans of those who fell a sacrifice to your accursed ambition? But if the labouring earth doth not expand her jaws; if the air you breathe is not commissioned to be the minister of death; yet, hear it and tremble! the eye of heaven penetrates the darkest chambers of the soul, and you, though screened from human observation, must be arraigned, must lift your hands, red with the blood of those whose death you have procured, at the tremendous bar of God.”

His boldness greatly exasperated the adherents of the crown, and every artifice was put in requisition to injure his growing popularity. Amongst them, was his nomination by the governor, who had uniformly been his enemy, to the council, hoping, by this stratagem, that he would, by his acceptance, turn the populace against him. By a prompt refusal he defeated the intrigues of his enemies, and riveted himself more strongly on the affections of those who favoured liberal principles, rendering himself more obnoxious to the king’s officers. He was at this time captain of the governor’s guard, and was immediately removed. As a testimony of respect to him, his company; composed of the first citizens of Boston, dissolved themselves at once.

The tocsin of the revolution was now sounded from the heights of Lexington; American blood had again been shed by British soldiers; the people heard the dread clarion of revolution; thousands rushed to the rescue; the hireling troops fled; in their flight, they found the messengers of death stationed on their whole route; retribution met them at every corner; the trees and fences were illumined by streams of fire from the rusty muskets of the native yeomanry; and many of Briton’s proud sons slumbered in the arms of death on that memorable, that eventful day.

The governor, on the reception of this news, issued his proclamation in the name of his most Christian Majesty, George the III., declaring the province in a state of rebellion, but graciously offering pardon to all returning penitents, excepting John Hancock and Samuel Adams, who had also rendered himself obnoxious by his patriotic and independent course. A secret attempt was made to arrest them, but was foiled. These two philanthropists were preserved to aid in the glorious cause they had boldly and nobly espoused, and to become shining lights in the blue arch of liberty, and bright examples of patriotism to future generations. Their proscription by the governor only served to endear them still more to their friends and their bleeding country. In 1774, John Hancock was unanimously elected President of the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts; and, in 1775, he was called to preside over the Continental Congress. He accepted this appointment with diffidence, there being many of its number much his senior, and of eminent talents. He, however, succeeded in discharging the arduous duties assigned him, with fidelity and great ability, and to the satisfaction of his colleagues and his country.

His was the only name affixed to the Declaration of Independence when it was first published and presented to the fearless patriots for their approval; and it stands first in bold relievo, on a thousand facsimiles, scattered through the world. It stands at the head of a list of sages, whose names are enrolled in unfading glory, and will be handed down to the remotest ages of time, unsullied and untarnished.

Impaired in his health and worn down by fatigue, Mr. Hancock resigned his station in Congress in October, 1777, having presided over that august body for two years and a half, with a credit to himself, gratifying to his friends, and advantageous to the cause of human rights.

Soon after he returned home, he was elected to a convention of his native state to form a constitution for its government. His experience and talents were of great service in producing a truly republican instrument. In 1780, he was elected the first governor under the new constitution, and continued to fill the gubernatorial chair for five years, when he resigned. After two years he was again elected, and continued to fill this station, with dignity and usefulness, during the remainder of his life. During his administration over the destinies of his dear native state, there were many difficulties to overcome, many evils to suppress. The devastations of the war had paralyzed every kind of business; reduced thousands from affluence to poverty; polluted the morals of society; and left a heavy debt to be liquidated. Many conflicting interests were to be reconciled; many restless spirits were to be subdued; and many visionary theories were to be exploded. Insubordination, arrayed in a faction of 12,000 men, threatening to annihilate the government, was the most prominent evil to be removed. Abuses and riots were of frequent occurrence; the civil authorities were disregarded; and it was found necessary to call out the militia to preserve order. By the prudent management of Governor Hancock, these difficulties were adjusted, the clamour of the people hushed, their complaints silenced, order restored, and but few lives sacrificed at the shrine of treason.

For a time, the governor, by his firm and determined course, incurred the displeasure and enmity of many prominent men; but when reason resumed her station, and prosperity began to alleviate the burdens that had been so strongly felt, their ire was appeased, the sour feelings of party spirit lost their rancour, and admiration and esteem for his sterling virtues and talents, and the long and arduous services he had rendered his country and his state, disarmed his enemies of their resentment, and produced uniform love and esteem.

He used his best exertions in favour of the adoption of the federal constitution, and, to cap the climax of his well earned fame, he left a sick bed on the last week of the session of the Assembly of his state, and, by his vote and influence, induced them to accept and sanction that important instrument of confederation, that has thus far held us in the bonds of union, strength, and power.

Governor Hancock now had the satisfaction of seeing prosperity spread its benign influence over the whole infant republic, and her institutions, laws, trade, manufactures, commerce, and agriculture, based on the firm pillars of freedom and eternal justice. His long nursed vision was reduced to a happy reality; he felt that he could die in peace; and, on the 8th of October, 1793, his soul took its flight suddenly and unexpectedly, to join the kindred spirits that had gone before, to enter upon the untried scenes of the eternal world. He continued to serve his country to the last, and, if a particle of malice against him lingered in the dark bosom of any man, it was buried with him in the tomb. Governor Hancock was amiable in his private character; highly honourable in his feelings; gentlemanly in his deportment; fashionable in his style of living; fond of innocent amusements, but free from corrupting vices; liberal and charitable; a friend to the poor, the oppressed, and the distressed; diligent in business; open and frank in his disposition; a faithful companion; a public spirited citizen, and a consistent man.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

The name of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, conspicuous upon the pages of European and American biography, ever commands peculiar respect and veneration. It is surrounded with a rich variety, as rare as it is instructive and interesting.

Franklin was born at Boston, on the 17th of January, 1706, exactly ninety years before my humble self. His father was among the puritans who fled before persecution, and sought repose in the wilds of Massachusetts. His parents were poor, but honest and esteemed. Poverty is ever inconvenient, but has not always been a disgrace. Honesty and industry were formerly the brightest stars on the escutcheon of fame.

Franklin manifested a taste for improvement at an early age, and exhibited talents of a superior order. His pious parents encouraged his education as far as their limited means would permit, and were anxious to see him prepared for the pulpit; but necessity compelled his father to take him from school at the age of ten years, and place him in his shop, to aid him in the prosecution of the chandler business. But this did not paralyze his native genius. Original in every trait of his character, eccentric in his manner, and the child of nature and experiment, he commenced the study of practical philosophy, amidst candle wicks, tallow, and soap. He went through the experiments of ascertaining the precise quantity of sleep and food requisite to supply the wants of nature, and the kind most conducive to health. At this early age, he adopted rules of temperance, frugality, and economy, worthy of imitation, and adorned with all the system of mature age. He also accustomed himself to meet and bear disappointments with philosophic fortitude. He continued to improve his mind by reading, for which he had an insatiable thirst. Nothing passed by him unnoticed, and his expanding genius drew philosophy from nature, from things, and from men. He reasoned, analyzed, moralized, and improved, from every thing he saw. Hence the vast expansion of his gigantic genius, comprehending at one bold view, through after life, the philosophy of mind, of nature, of science, of art, of government, of society, and all the relations of creation, from the dust under his feet, through the myriads of animalculæ in a drop of water, up to the bright seraphs of the skies. A mind like his could not long be confined in a chandler’s shop. Open and honest in his disposition, he communicated his wish of moving in some other sphere, to his father. After an examination of the various trades, and working a short time with a cutler, he was bound to his brother, to learn the art of a printer. He soon became master of his profession, and left a shining example for all apprentices, by adding to his industry in business the improvement of his mind during every leisure hour—a happy prelude to his glorious and useful career through future life.

So intensely bent on the acquisition of knowledge was Franklin, that he often preferred his book to his meal, and studied whole nights, in defiance of the commands and entreaties of Morpheus. As he was paid a weekly sum for his board, he adopted a course of simple vegetable diet, by which he saved money to purchase books. He manifested a correct taste and a sound judgment in the selection of authors and subjects. Among them, he studied with admiration and attention the Memorabilia of Xenophon, and became one of the closest imitators of Socrates, in his mode of reasoning and habits of life, to be found on record. Before he became versed in the rules of propriety, he often gave offence by the bold and obstinate manner in which he advanced and maintained his opinions.

He now commenced his literary career; and, as is most usually the case with young authors, he offered his first sacrifice to Calliope, in a strain of rhyming ideas. His poetry was applauded, but his father, who was a man of sound judgment, cured him of his poetic mania, by turning his verses into ridicule; at the same time encouraging him to improve his talents by writing prose. Suspicious of his own ability, fearing the shafts of criticism, he managed to have several of his productions published in the paper edited by his brother, in so clandestine a manner, that no one could know the author. When he found they met with general admiration, his vanity, as he says, did not let the world long remain ignorant of the writer.

Being flattered by praise and attention from others, he began to feel his importance, which resulted in an open rupture between him and his brother, to whom he was an apprentice. For some time, he endured a course of harsh treatment, but at length resolved to free himself from the chains of bondage. He soon found an opportunity of embarking for New York, where he arrived in safety. Not being able to obtain business there, he bent his course towards the city of Philadelphia, on foot, and alone. On his arrival there, he had but one solitary dollar left; was a stranger, and only seventeen years of age; and, without business, must soon be dependent on the cold charities of the world for his bed and board. On entering Market street, his eccentric appearance excited the gaze of the multitude, as much as his towering talents subsequently did the gaze of the world. He had a roll of bread under each arm, and, approaching the Delaware, he sat down and feasted upon his bread and the pure water from the river. His pockets were projected to an enormous size with the various articles of his wardrobe, and, on the whole, his corpulent appearance was not in bad keeping with old Boniface.

Although there were but two printing offices in Philadelphia, he succeeded in obtaining employment in one, as compositor. He now reduced all his theories of economy to successful practice, maintaining himself at a trifling expense, pursuing a correct and industrious career, which gained for him the esteem of all his acquaintances. Among others, his talents attracted the attention of Sir William Keith, then Governor of the province, who invited him to his house and treated him with great kindness.

The governor was a man whose liberality in _promises_, often went beyond the means of his _purse_. Anxious to see his young friend placed in more auspicious circumstances by his benefaction, he proposed to set him up in business, and sent him to London, with letters of high commendation, to obtain the necessary materials for his new enterprise. On his arrival there, he was much chagrined to find that no pecuniary arrangements were made by his new benefactor, and he found himself in a strange land without money to enable him to return. But this was only another lesson of experience, in whose school he delighted to study; and, instead of sitting down under the weight of disappointment and dejection, he soon obtained employment, and, by his skill and industry, gained the confidence and esteem of all his new acquaintances. After residing there for eighteen months he took passage for Philadelphia on the 22nd of July, 1726. On his way home he concocted a set of rules to govern his actions through future life, of the following substance:

I resolve to be frugal; to speak truth at all times; never to raise expectations not to be realized; to be sincere; to be industrious; to be stable; to speak ill of no man; to cover, rather than expose the faults of others; and to do all the good I can to my fellow men.

Upon this foundation of native granite he built a superstructure, as beautiful and enduring as the proudest memorials of Greece and Rome.

He arrived at Philadelphia on the 11th of October, and engaged with the merchant, who owned the goods brought in by the ship in which he came, as a clerk. The same industry and success attended him in the counting-house that cheered him at the press, showing clearly that his talents were of a rare and rich variety. His future prospects in this new department brightened before him, but were suddenly prostrated by the death of his employer, which threw him back into his former trade. For a few months he worked for his old master, but finding a partner who had more money than skill, they commenced business on their own account. His industry and exertions were now put in full requisition: he manned his own wheelbarrow in collecting materials for business, and put nature on short allowance, until he should acquire enough to be free from debt. His industry, punctuality, and correct deportment, gained him many valuable and influential friends, through whose patronage he was enabled to extend his business, and shake off his partner, who had become worse than worthless, by embarrassing and retarding the business of the firm. Up to this era in his life, Franklin had been emphatically fortune’s foot-ball. His life had been a complete checker-board of changing vicissitudes, blasted hopes, and keen disappointments. But, amidst all the stormy trials that had tossed his youthful bark to and fro, surrounded by the foaming torrents of vice, he never became tarnished by corruption, or degraded by the commission of a base or mean action. The moral principles deeply planted in his bosom by parental instruction during his childhood, were as lasting as his life; a happy illustration of the good effects of faithfulness in parents towards their children.

Having now become liberated from his partner in business, he began to feel the necessity and propriety of choosing another, to fill up the vacuum in his side, and share with him the joys and sorrows that awaited him on this mundane sphere of action. Accordingly, in 1730, he entered into a partnership for life with a widow lady, whose maiden name was Read, and for whom he had contracted an attachment previous to her first marriage. In him she found a kind husband, and in her he found a much more agreeable partner than his former one.

Philanthropy predominated in the heart of Franklin; to better the condition of his fellow men, was pleasure to his soul. The rules governing the “Junto,” formed by him, and now merged in the Philosophical Society, show a superior knowledge of human nature, and of the duty men owe to the creature and the Creator. They breathe universal charity, kindness, benevolence, and good will to all mankind. Among them is one for the suppression of intemperance, a prophetic prelude to the exertions of the present day in this cause.

Franklin had profited by the experience of the past, and was now enabled to steer clear of the numerous rocks and quicksands of error, on which so many are ruined and lost. Although he rode in many a storm, prosperity beamed upon him from this time onward, through a long life of usefulness. His new partner smiled upon him, his friends esteemed him, and in the pleasures of the present, past pains were forgotten.

In 1732, he commenced the publication of “Poor Richard’s Almanac,” which he continued until 1737, circulating 10,000 copies annually. Although under an humble title, it was a work of great merit, being replete with maxims and rules calculated for every day use in the various relations of life. It gained great celebrity in Europe, and was translated into various languages.

About this time he commenced the publication of a newspaper, which was conducted with great ability, free from all scurrility, and a messenger of truth. Would to God the same could be said of _all_ the public prints of the present day.

He continued to pursue his studies, until he added to general science a knowledge of the French, Italian, Spanish, and Latin languages. By the “Junto” a small library was commenced, which formed the first stepping stone to the present city collection. He wrote and published a highly interesting pamphlet on the necessity of a paper currency, and added much to his literary fame by the production of various essays, written in his truly original style. He filled, successively and successfully, the situation of state printer, clerk of the General Assembly, and post-master of Philadelphia. He used unwearied exertions to increase municipal improvement in the city, by the organization of fire companies, lighting and improving the streets, regulating the watch, and reducing every thing to that system, order, and harmony, so congenial to his mind. He was the patron and father of the Philosophical Society, the Pennsylvania University and Hospital; and contributed, in every way he could, to advance the glory and prosperity of his adopted home, and the happiness and peace of his fellow citizens. All the important enterprises, both in the city and province, during these days of his towering fame, were either originated by him, or were more rapidly advanced by his wisdom and counsel; and scarcely any project was undertaken without his approving sanction.

In 1741, he commenced the publication of a “General Magazine,” which contained much useful matter, but was less acceptable than his previous writings, being in part devoted to the litigated points of divinity.

The mechanic arts were also much improved by him. He brought to their aid philosophy and chemistry, and combined them with science, economy, and nature. He improved the chimneys, constructed a stove, and proposed many useful and economical corrections in domestic concerns, from the garret to the cellar, from the plough to the mill. Science acknowledged his master spirit, the arts hailed him as their patron, the lightning bowed in subjection to his magic rod, and nature claimed him as her favourite son.

In 1744, he was elected a member of the provincial assembly, where he was continued for ten successive years. Although not a popular speaker, his clear head and sound judgment, as a legislator and a statesman, gave him an influence over that body before unknown.

During the years he was serving his country in the assembly, he also served in the fields of experimental philosophy, and explained many of the mysterious phenomena of nature, that spread his fame to the remotest bounds of the civilized world. His discoveries in electricity alone, were sufficient to have immortalized his name. He was the first man on record who imparted magnetism to steel—melted metals, killed animals, and fired gunpowder by means of electricity; and the first who conceived and reduced to practice, the method of conducting lightning from the clouds to the points of steel rods, and, by them, harmless to the ground. All the elements and fluids, the air, sea, and land, underwent the close investigation of his vast, his philosophic mind.

In 1758, he was sent to Carlisle to conclude a treaty with the Indians; and in the following year, to Albany, to meet a congress of commissioners, to arrange means of defence against the threatened hostilities of the French and savages. He there submitted a plan that met with the unanimous approbation of the commissioners, but was so republican in its features, as to be rejected by those who had at heart the interests of their king more than the happiness of the colonists.

On the decease of the deputy post-master general of America, Franklin succeeded him, and raised the department from a state of embarrassment and expense, to a fruitful source of revenue to the crown.

About this time difficulties arose between the proprietors and government in the province of Pennsylvania, which were finally referred to the mother country for adjustment, and Franklin was sent to England in June, 1757, as advocate for the province. With his usual industry and address, he performed the duties of his mission, the difficulties were adjusted, and in 1762, he returned, received a vote of thanks from the assembly, and a compensation of five hundred pounds. He was now variously employed in regulating the post-office department, making treaties with the Indians, and devising means of defence on the frontiers: every department of government feeling his beneficial influence. New difficulties arose between the assembly and the proprietors, and, in 1764, Franklin again sailed for England, with instructions to obtain the entire abolishment of proprietary authority. On his arrival there, he was called upon to perform more important and perilous duties. The plan for taxing the colonies had been long agitated, and was now matured by the British ministry. This project Franklin had opposed from the beginning, and he was now arraigned to answer numerous accusations brought against him by the enemies of liberty. On the 3d of February, 1766, he appeared before the House of Commons to undergo a public examination. He was found equal to the task; his enemies were astounded at his logic, boldness, dignity, and skill; and his friends were filled with admiration at the able manner he confuted every accusation, and defended the rights and interests of his native country. Amidst the attacks of artifice and insolence of power, he stood unmoved, and firm as a marble statue. He remained in England eleven years as the agent of the colonies, opposing the encroachments of the crown upon the rights of Americans; and, during the whole time, all the combined efforts of malice, flattery, and intrigue, were unable to ensnare or intimidate him. He became acquainted with the etiquette, corruptions, and devices of diplomacy; but never bent his knee to Baal, or kissed the hand of a crowned head.

Matters had now arrived at a crisis that induced his departure for his long neglected home. His personal safety in England, and the need of his public services in his own country, admonished him to return. He accordingly embarked, and arrived at Philadelphia in the beginning of May, 1775. He was received with marked attention and esteem, and immediately elected to the continental congress, adding new lustre and dignity to that august body, and enrolling his name among the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Notwithstanding he had used every exertion to reconcile difficulties with Great Britain, and believed his country was yet too weak to achieve its independence, his course was now onward, resolved, with his patriotic colleagues, on liberty or death.

The talents of Franklin were now had in constant requisition, both by his own state and in the general congress. He was always selected to meet the agents of the crown, who were at various times commissioned to offer terms of inglorious peace. They always found in him the firm uncompromising advocate of liberty; the shrewd and wary politician; the bold and zealous defender of the rights of his bleeding country. The disasters of the American army during the campaign of 1778, induced congress to apply to France for assistance. All eyes were turned on Franklin to perform this important mission. In October, 1776, he embarked upon this delicate embassy, and, after a most vigilant intercession, succeeded in concluding a treaty of alliance with that nation, on the 6th of February, 1778, to the great joy of himself and his suffering countrymen. When the news of this alliance reached England, the ministry were much alarmed, and despatched messengers to Paris to endeavour to induce Franklin to enter into a compromise. All was in vain. To Mr. Hutton and others, who came to him with the olive branch of peace, he replied: “I never think of your ministry and their abettors, but with the image strongly painted in my view of their hands red and dropping with the blood of my countrymen, friends and relations. No peace can be signed by those hands, unless you drop all pretensions to govern us, meet us on equal terms, and avoid all occasions of future discord.”

He met all their intrigues at the threshold, and they became convinced that the hardy yeomanry of America were not to be dragooned, flattered, or driven from the bold position they had assumed. During the numerous interviews he had with these emissaries, (I can call them by no milder term,) Franklin was cautioned by Mr. Heartley to beware of his personal safety, which had been repeatedly threatened. He thanked his friend and assured him he felt no alarm, that he had nearly finished a long life, and that the short remainder was of no great value. He ironically remarked: “Perhaps the best use such an old fellow can be put to, is to make a martyr of him.”

If it required much skill and perseverance to _negociate_ an alliance with France, it required more to _preserve_ it. A republican form of government is ever repugnant to kingly power. That the French in America would imbibe liberal principles, was a matter of course. That the thrones of Europe would be endangered on their return, was truly predicted. By this course of ingenious reasoning, the British ministers exerted a powerful influence against the continuation of the alliance. But the eagle eye of Franklin penetrated, anticipated, and frustrated all their dark schemes of intrigue; and, in the event, they were compelled to comply with his terms of peace, acknowledge the independence of the colonies, and retire, defeated, disgraced, and humbled. In the arduous duties of settling definitive preliminaries of peace, Franklin was aided by Messrs. Adams, Jay, and Laurens. These duties were closed, and a definitive treaty concluded with Great Britain and the United States at Paris on the 3d of September, 1783.

Although anxious to be discharged from further public service, it was not until 1785, that Franklin was permitted to return to his beloved country, where he could breathe the pure air of republican freedom, no longer polluted by kingly power. During this time he had concluded treaties between the United States and the kings of Sweden and Prussia. On his departure from Europe every mark of respect was paid to him by kings, by courts, by the literati, and by all classes of society that the most towering ambition could desire. He was clothed with the mantle of love and unfading glory. His reputation was perched sublimely on the loftiest pinnacle fame could rear. He had been a pillow of fire to the American cause, and a pillar of smoke to the enemies of human rights.

At the age of eighty years, borne down by fatigue and disease, he returned to Philadelphia. He was hailed with enthusiastic joy, esteem, and respect by all the friends of liberty, from the humblest citizen up to the illustrious Washington.

Notwithstanding his advanced age, and his great anxiety to retire from the public gaze, he was soon appointed Governor of Pennsylvania—and subsequently, in 1787, elected a delegate to the convention that framed the federal constitution. Many of the bright traits of that matchless instrument received their finishing stroke from his master hand. Early in 1790, his infirmities of body confined him to his room, but his immortal mind remained unimpaired. When approaching rapidly the confines of eternity, he still looked with anxious solicitude upon the interests of the young republic. He still continued to benefit mankind by his writings and counsels. Some of the strongest and most vivid productions from his pen were written during his confinement. His diseases continued to increase, and on the 17th of April, 1790, calm and resigned, cool and collected, peaceful and happy, he resigned his spirit into the hands of his Creator—quitted this vale of tears, and slumbered, quietly and sweetly, in the arms of death—in the full faith of rising to a glorious immortality in realms of bliss beyond the skies.

By his will he prohibited all pomp and parade at his funeral. He was anxious that the plain republican manner of his long and useful life, should be strictly observed in the mournful obsequies of his interment. He was buried on the 21st of April, in the north-west corner of Christ Church yard, where a plain marble slab, even with the surface of the earth, points to where he lies. With his, moulders the dust of his wife, with whom he had lived in harmony and peace. No other inscription is upon the tomb except his and her name.

His death was deeply lamented throughout the civilized world. Congress ordered mourning to be observed throughout the United States one month. The event was solemnized, and many eulogies pronounced in France. The National Assembly decreed that each of its members should wear a badge of mourning on the occasion for three days. The sensations produced there by his death, were as imposing and interesting, and celebrated with as much devotion as those recently witnessed in our own country on the death of La Fayette.

In reviewing the life of this great benefactor of mankind, we find a richer variety to admire than in that of any individual upon the historic page. In whatever station he moved he was a luminary of the first magnitude. He entered upon the stage of action at a time when the world needed just such a man; and continued upon it just long enough to finish all he had begun. He was found just equal to every work he undertook, and always stopped at the golden point of the finishing stroke—a modest hint for me to close. You who profess to admire his virtues, talents, and usefulness, prove your sincerity by imitating his examples.

ROGER SHERMAN.

The man who has been rocked in the cradle of letters from his childhood; who has become familiar with general science, the classics, and philosophy; who has had a father to aid, and friends to caress him; whose path has been smoothed by uninterrupted prosperity—and does not ascend the ladder of fame, is either untrue to himself, or destitute of native talent. With all the advantages of an education lavished upon him, he sinks into obscurity, and the fond anticipations and future hopes of a doting parent, set in gloom.

When, on the other hand, we see a man, whose opportunities for acquiring an education during childhood and youth carried him not far beyond the confines of the spelling book; a man, who had no father or guardian to warn him against the quicksands of error or point him to the temple of science; his intellect enveloped in the rude attire of nature’s quarry at the age of twenty; when we see such a man bursting the chains that bind his mental powers—divesting himself of the dark mantle of ignorance—unveiling his native talents, and shining in all the beauty of intelligence and greatness—we are filled with admiration and delight.

Such a man was ROGER SHERMAN, the great-grandson of Captain John Sherman, who came from England to Watertown, Massachusetts, in 1635. Roger was born in Newton, Massachusetts, on the 19th of April, 1721. His father, William Sherman, was a respectable farmer, with means too limited to educate his son, and, at an early age, bound him to a shoemaker. Like Franklin, at the age of nineteen, he wandered from his master to seek his fortune, and like him, he had a genius that no shop could confine, no obstacle intimidate, or difficulty paralyze. The course of his mind was onward, upward; like a new and blazing star, illuminating the horizon as it rose. Nature designed him to be great and good; he obeyed her dictates.

He went to New Milford, in Connecticut, where he followed shoe-making three years, living within the strictest rules of economy, contributing from his earnings to the support of a widowed mother, with a family of small children. The education of his young brothers and sisters, also received his attention. Every leisure moment he devoted to books, often having one open before him when using his lap stone. With each succeeding day, his mind expanded, unfolding beauties rich and rare. Every obstacle to the pursuit of knowledge, melted before his untiring industry; he ascended the hill of science with a firm and steady pace.

In June, 1743, he removed his mother and her family to New Milford, and entered into the mercantile business with an elder brother—still pursuing his studies as opportunities permitted. He soon stored his capacious memory with a fund of rich and useful information, that ultimately placed him on the pinnacle of public esteem and usefulness. About that time, he made a public profession of religion, which he adorned through subsequent life. In 1745, he was appointed surveyor of Litchfield county, having made himself familiar with mathematics. Like his contemporary and friend, Benjamin Franklin, he made the calculations of an almanac several years, for a publisher in New York.

At the age of twenty-eight, he married Miss Elizabeth Hartwell, of Staughton, Massachusetts, who died in 1780, leaving seven children. He subsequently married Miss Rebecca Prescott, who lived to have eight children, all of whom, with those by his first wife, he carefully trained in the ways of wisdom and virtue. He also supported his mother, and a maiden sister whose health was poor, until death relieved them, at an advanced age, from the toils of life.

In the prosecution of his literary pursuits, he turned his attention to the study of law, in which he made astonishing proficiency. In 1754, he was admitted to the bar, better prepared to act well his part and do justice to his clients, than many who are ushered into notice under the high floating banners of a collegiate diploma.

The following year he was appointed a justice of the peace and elected a member of the colonial assembly; an honour that was conferred upon him during the remainder of his residence at that place. He was highly esteemed by his fellow citizens. His reputation as a lawyer and statesman stood high, and his private worth enabled him to exercise a salutary influence upon those around him. For industry, sound logic, prudence, and discretion, he stood unrivalled in the colony. Strong common sense, the true helm of human action, marked his whole career; rendering him substantially and extensively useful to his fellow men and his country. He was a philanthropist of the highest order, a patriot of the purest water.

In 1759, he was appointed a judge of the county court of Litchfield, and discharged his official duties with great faithfulness and impartiality, correcting vice and promoting virtue.

Two years after, he removed to New Haven, where he was appointed justice of the peace, elected to the assembly, and, in 1765, was placed upon the judicial bench of the county court. He received the degree of master of arts from Yale College, of which he was treasurer for many years, fulfilling the trust with scrupulous honesty and fidelity.

In 1766, he was elected a member of the executive council, which was hailed as an auspicious event by the friends of liberal principles. The mother country had manifested a disposition to impose unjust taxation upon the Americans. It required discernment, experience, nerve and decision, to comprehend and oppose the corrupt plans of an avaricious ministry. The colonies had borne the main burden of the French war, in which they had sacrificed large sums of money and fountains of their richest blood. After years of incessant toil, the foe had been conquered, an honourable peace for England obtained, the frontier settlements in a measure relieved from danger, and the soldier again became the citizen.

Whilst their rejoicings on that occasion were yet on the wings of echo, oppression from the crown threatened to blast their fond anticipations of happiness and repose, and bind them in chains, more to be dreaded than the tomahawk and scalping knife.

This colony had furnished more money and men, and lost more of her bravest sons in the French war than any other with the same population. Mr. Sherman had been an active member of the assembly during the period of its prosecution, and remembered well the sacrifices that had been made to gratify the king. He understood perfectly the rights of his own country and those of the crown. He was eminently prepared to discover approaching danger and sound the alarm. He was well calculated to probe the intrigues and venality of designing men, although the Atlantic rolled between him and them.

Mr. Grenville, who was at the head of the British ministry, determined to reduce his long-nursed theory of taxing the American colonies, to immediate practice. The alarm was immediately spread. Appeals for redress, petitions, and remonstrances, numerously signed, were forwarded to parliament; but all in vain. Reason and justice were dethroned and mercy banished from her seat. The car of oppression moved onward; the stamp act was passed; the indignation of the colonists was roused. After much exertion and excitement, _this_ law was repealed, to the great joy of the Americans; but they soon found that the storm was only lulled to gather new strength, and pour down its wrath upon their devoted heads with tenfold fury. The year following a duty was laid upon tea, glass, paper, and paints. High toned chords were then touched, and their reverberation reached the heart of every freeman. The tea was hurled into the ocean and the law set at open defiance. This spirited opposition induced a repeal of these duties, except on the first named article. This exception was death to the colonial power of England; to America, freedom. Popular fury increased; kindred spirits united to repel the injury, determined to defend their liberty, regardless of consequences. Amidst these commotions, Mr. Sherman remained undaunted at his post, watching, with a calm and prophetic mind, the moving elements. Although elevated to the bench of the superior court, he remained in the executive council, a firm and consistent advocate of his country’s rights; a lucid delineator of Britain’s wrongs. He viewed the gathering clouds as they rolled in fury; he saw the lightning of revenge streaming fearfully, without the tremor of a muscle, coolly awaiting the event, relying on Heaven, trusting in God.

High handed and tyrannical measures were now adopted by Parliament. Laws were passed, violating the chartered rights of the colonists, subversive of reason, humanity, and justice. A volcanic storm gathered; the British lion prowled in anger: the Albion Goliah buckled on his armour; the shining steel dazzled in the sun; the sword of vengeance was drawn; colonial blood was spilt; popular fury was roused; allegiance was dissolved; America was free.

At this momentous, this thrilling crisis, a band of sages and patriots assembled at Philadelphia, to devise means for the safety of their bleeding country. In the front rank stood Roger Sherman, in all the dignity of his native greatness. He was a member of the first continental Congress, and remained firm and unwavering at his post, during the trying scenes of the revolution, the formation of the new government, and the adoption of the federal constitution. With a gigantic mind, improved and enlarged by a rich fund of useful knowledge, inured to all the toils and intricacies of legislation, the history of his country and of nations spread upon his memory, the ingratitude and insults of a foreign monarch preying upon his soul, he was prepared to render his country services, equalled by few, exceeded by none.

His capacity was equal to every emergency: he shrunk from no duty; discharged every responsibility assumed; moving, with the mathematical precision of a planet, within the orbit of sound discretion. He was familiar with men and things, acquainted with the _minutiæ_ of human nature, traced causes and results to their true source, and viewed, with a philosophic eye, the secret springs of human action; the _arcana_ of economies was open before him; he solved problems, demonstrated principles, placing them in the full blaze of illustration, as irresistible as the pages of Euclid. Such was the self-taught Roger Sherman.

The session of 1775 was one of great labour, anxiety, and embarrassment. None but “hearts of oak, and nerves of steel,” could have sustained the tremendous shock, the fearful onset. An army was to be raised and organized, military stores provided, fortifications erected, rules of government adopted, plans of operation matured, internal enemies encountered, and legions of Britain’s bravest veterans to be repelled. To meet these emergencies, the members of Congress had hearts full of courage, but a treasury empty and bare. A forlorn hope was before them—a revenging foe on their shores. But they had resolved on liberty or death. Nor did they “split on the rock of resolves, where thousands live and die the same.” They met the fury of the king, encountering his vials of wrath with a firmness, wisdom, and patriotism, before unknown; placing them above all Greek, all Roman fame. Their course was onward towards the goal of FREEDOM. No threats of vengeance dismayed them—the shafts of terror fell harmless at their feet.

In 1776, with the colonies bleeding at every pore; a picture of sad reverses before them; a conquering enemy sweeping over their land like a destructive torrent; the streams purpled with the blood of their brethren; the cries of widows and orphans ringing in their ears; the sky illuminated by the streaming blaze of their towns; this band of patriots conceived the bold and towering plan of independence—a plan that stamped their heads, their hearts, their names, with immortal fame.

Early in the summer, Messrs. Sherman, Adams, Franklin, Livingston and Jefferson, were appointed a committee to draft a declaration of rights. After much deliberation, it was prepared, reported, and, on the memorable 4th of July, 1776, received the hearty sanction of the Continental Congress, amidst the transporting joys of freemen, who hailed it as the bright, the morning star; to them, a prelude of future bliss; to tyrants, a burning meteor, threatening to devour them.

Illustrious in all their actions, the signers of the declaration were eminently so, when, assuming their native dignity, they rose, in all the majesty of greatness, bursting their servile chains; cutting asunder the cords of oppressive allegiance; sublimely passing the grand Rubicon; and, in view of an approving Heaven and an admiring world, declared their country free and independent. The era was one of resplendent glory, sacred to the cause of human rights, enduring as the tablet of time, brilliant as the meridian sun. The sages whose signatures grace the chart of our liberty placed themselves on the loftiest spire fame could rear. By their own consciences, by their countrymen, by Heaven, and in view of gazing millions, they stood approved, applauded, and admired.