VALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 06092 7697 fV^tl"'*^-'."^" ' l" Ll--T..,ii;jj,;^»s-ffijj^rif,;^Sr5g itiZSfcd 'Y^lLE«'¥]MH¥IEI^SflT¥» Bequest of JOSEPH J, COOKE 1883 TWO FUNERAL ORATIONS. L ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY, • ^ II. ON Dr. franklin. IN CONGRESS. , JANUARY 25, 1776. ' «< RESOLVED, That Dr. Smith be desired to prepare " and deliver a funeral oration fin honour of General " Montgomery, and of those Officers and Soldiers who mag- " nanimously fought^ and fell with him in maintaining the prin- " ciples of American Liberty. " Extract from the Miputes, « CHARLES TliOMSON, Sec" IN pursuance of this appointment the following Oration ¦was drawn up ; and as the author knew that he was to address as great and respectable an audience, perhap's, as was ever convened in America, he neither wished to trifle with their character or his own, but Used ^very effort in his pdwer to render the composition worthy of the occasion ; and now cheer fully submits it to the puTiIic judgment. He foresaw the dif ficulties incident to the undertaking ; and -was prepared to encounter tliem, upon the principles mentioned in the oration itself. Two or three quotations have been transferred from the text to the margin ; a few small alterations, chiefly verbal, have been niade, upon the recommendation of some friends, and a paragraph, which was forgotten in the delivery, is printed in its place. Upon the whole, the author hopes he has done justice. to the memory of those brave men whoi are the subjects of the oration ; ahd with respect to those reflections upon public af fairs which must rise out cf public characters, and are inti mately connected witii them, he is so far from wishing them retrenched, that (on a careful review) he is willing to rest upon themj v^hatever claim he may have to the appellation of a good Citizen, ov friend to Liberty, so long as it may be remembered that he either lived or wrote in America! AN ORATION, IN MEMORY OF GENERAL MONTGOMEJ^T, AND OF THE OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS, , WHO rELL WITH HIM, DECEMBER 31, 1775 S BEFORE QUEBEC. BEHVERED IN THE GREAT CALVINIST CHURCH, BT THE AP»- POINTMENT AND AT THE DESIRE, OF THE HONORABLE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS ; PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY 19, 1776. O thou, who bad'st them fall with honour crown'd, ' Soon make the bloody pride of war to cease ! May these the oiily sacrifice be found To public freedom, and their country's peace. FATHERS, ERETHREKT, AND COUNTRYMEN. ? An occasion truly solemn has assembled us this day ; and, that your attention may be alike solemn , and serious, hear, in the first place, the voice of eter nal truth-r-" It is better to go to the house of mourn- " ing than to the house of feasting;" for — " None " of us liveth to hiioself, and no man dieth to him- " self"— But there are some men, illuminated with a purer ray of divinity-— Patriots of the first magnitude — who, in a peculiar sense, may be said to live and die, not to themselves, but to others; and consequently to him who is the author of all goodness. Endowed with that superior exq^llence which does honour to our whole species, the mirtuous of every nation claim 4 . " ORATION I. kindred \yith them; and the general interests' of hu manity are concerned iij their character. In veneration of such men, to exchange the accus tomed w;alks of pleasure for the house of mourning; to bedew its sacred recesses with tears of gratitude to their memory;, to strive, if possible, to.catch some portion of their ethereal spirit, as it mounts from this earthly sphere, into perfect union with congenial spi rits above — is a laudable custom, Coeval with society, and sanctified to us by the example of the wisest na tions. It was the manner of the Egyptians, the fathers of arts and science, not only to celebrate the names, but to embalm the bodies, of their deceased heroes, that they might be long preserved in public vie\v, as examples of virtue ; and, a,lthough " dead yet " speakjgig." But this honour was not easily to be obtained ; nor was it bestowed indiscriminately upon the vul gar great. It was decreed only by the public voice—- a venerable assembly of judges, before whom the body of the deceased was brought for trial, and solemnly acquitted or condemned upon the evidence of the people. Even kings themselves, however muph spared when alive, fpr the sake of public tranquillity, had still this more than fiery ordeal before their eyes ; and, by the example of some of their number, who had been refused sepulture in those very tombs which their pride had prepared to their own memory, were taught both to venerate and to dread a law, which extended its punishments beyond the usual times of oblivion. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 5 The motal of the institution was truly sublime — constantly inculcating a most important lesson — " That whatever distinctions our wants and vices may render necessary, in this short and imperfect period of our being, they are all cancelled by the hand of death; and, through the endless untried periods which succeed, virtue and beneficence w'ill make the ^true distinctions of character, and be the only foundations of happiness and renown ! < If frbm the ^Egyptians, we pass to the Greeks, particularly the enlightened Athenians, we shall find that they had an express law, appointing orations and public funerals; in honour of those who gloriously sacrificed their lives to their country. And this solemn office was performed before the great assem blies ofthe people; sometimes for one, and sometimes for bands of heroes tosether. Tliucydides has recorded a celebrated oration of this last kind, delivered by Pericles. The illustrious speaker, after a inost animating description ofthe amor patria — ^the love of our country^ — ^which he exalts above all human virtues, turns to the de ceased — " Having bestowed their lives to the public, every " one of thera, say§ he, hath received a praise -that " -will never decay — a sepulchre that will always be " most illustrious; — not that in which their bones lie " mouldering, but that in which their fanie is pre- " served. This whole earth is the, sepulchre of illus- , " trious citizens," — and their inscription is writteu upon the hearts of all good men. 6 ORATION I. *' As for you, the survivors! — from this verymo- " ment, emulating their virtues, place your sole " happiness in liberty — and be prepared to follow its " call through every danger." Then, addressing' himself, with exquisite tenderness, to-the relicts ahd children of the deceased, he suggests to them that the commonwealth was their husband, their father and brother — " From this day forward to the age of maturity, " shall the orphans be educated at the public expense " of the state. For this benevolent meed have the " laws appointed to all future relicts of those Ayho " may fall in the public contests." ' Nor were the Romans less careful in this matter. Considering men in general as brave, more by art than nature ; and that honour is a more powerful incentive than fear; they made frugality, temperance, patience of labbur» manly exercise, and love of their country, the main principles of education. Cowardice and lieglect of duty in the field, were seldom punished with death or corporal inflictions; but by what w^as accounted worse, a life decreed to ignominious expul sion and degradation from Roman privileges. On the contrary, deeds of public virtue ,were rewarded, according to their magnitude, with statues, triumphs of various kinds, peculiar badges of dress at public solemnities, and* songs of praise to the living as well as the dead. • They are called " Carmina," as ^vrought up in the high poetic style i but were ricft, therefore, always in verse or measure. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 7 Next to the hymns cofiiposed in honour of the Gods, Poetry derived its origin from the songs of triumph to heroes,* who tamed the Vude manners of mankind, founded cities, repelled the incursions of enemies, aiid gave peace to their countiyf. And this custom began when Rome contained only a few shepherds, gathering strength by an alluvies of the outcasts of neighbouring nations. Those first efforts of poetic eulogy, whether in prose or verse (like those of a similar origin, which nature, always the same, teaches our savage neigh bours) although often sublime in substance, were yet so rude in structure, that^ Livy forbears quotingthem as having become intolerable to the more refined taste of his age, however suitable they might have been to the eera of their production. What a multitude of compositions of this kind must have existed between the barbarous songs of the military Upon the triumph of|| Cossius, and the celebrated panegyric bf Pliny upon Trajan! They are said to have been swelled into two thousand volumes, even in the time of Augustus. In short, tlie praise of public virtue was wrought into the whole * Sollti sunt, in epulis, canere convivas ad tibicinem, tie clarorum ho- minum virtute. Cic. t Qui terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella Componunt, agro^ assignant, oppida condunt, Hor. J Carmen canentes ibant, ilia tempestate forsitan laudaliile rudibus ingenlis, nunc abhorrens & inconditum, si referater. y Longe maximum triumph!, jpectaculum fuit Cossius^ tneum milites carmina incondita, aquantes euin Romulo, car.ere. IJv. 8 ORATION L texture of Roman polity ; and Virgil, calling feilghn to his aid, gal^e it the highest finish*. He divides his Hades, or place c^ ghosts, into dif ferent regions; and, tothe gulf of deepest perditionf, consigns those monsters of iniquity who delighted in the destruction of mankind, betrayed J their country, or violated its religion and laws. There he excru ciates them, in company with <' Gbrgons and Hydras, and Chimeras dire"||— - Vultures prey upon their vitals, or they are whirled eternally round with Ixion upon his wheel, or bound down with Tantalus,** whose burning lip hangs quivering over the elusive waters it cannot touch; or the fury Tisy phone, her hair entwined -with serpents, her garments red with human gore, urges on their tortures with unrelenting hand ! The Poet having thus exhausted imagiriation as well as mythology, in the description of punishments * Sep more on the use and good Policy of Fwieral Panegyrics, on the public virtue of great men deceased, from page 42, to 47, of Sermon III. antea. f ''.Full twice as deep the dungeort of the fiends, " The huge tarwrean gloomy gulf descends " Below these regions, as these regions lie '; •' From the bright realms of yon aethereal sky." j J " This wretch his country to a tyrant sold, " And h^tier'iL glorious liberty for gold : " Laws for a bribe he pass'd — but pj.ss'd in vain; '\ For these same laws a bribe repeal'd again." I| Milton here borrows his monsters from Virgil, — — " fUpnmisqtie arnuita Ohimitfa ; - " Gorgor.es, Harpixque." — Wc. See Virgil, B. VI, from line 28^, to line 627 j or Pitt's excellent transla tion. •* Tantalus a labris, sitien?, fugientia captat Flumina. JSbr. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY, ^9 for the disturbers of mankind, and foes to their country, raises;his conclusion to a height of horror beyond the reach of expression— " Had I a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, " A voice of brass, and adamantine lungs; "Not half the mighty scene could I disclose, " Repeat their crimes, or count their dreadful .woes*." Nor has Virgil strayed any farther through the%lds of fancy or fiible in this place, than to borrow strength of colouring foT the garb of truth; and, Lususpect, that he drank' from a purer fountain than^that of Helicon, when he peopled his Tatarus with the ancient scourges of the human race. An authority, sacred among Christians, had, indeed, long before gi ven an awful sanction to the truth of his doctrine. A Prophet and Poet, indeed, whose inspiration Was truly from heaven, the incomparably sublime Isaiah, foretelling the fall of Babylon, has an ode of triumph, wherein he exults over its haughty monarch in strains of wonderful irony and reproach. He reprobates him as a destroyer of mankind; who had " made the world a wilderness." He represents the whole earth as delivered from a curse by his fall! The trees of the forest rejoice, because he is laid low! The veiy grave refuses a covering to his exe crable corse! He is consign'd to the depths ormisery j .-c ¦ - .- ¦ ¦-'-.i ' • Milton has taken the same method of raising his description, hj leaving soraething to be conceived beyond the power of words ta express " Abominable,, unutterable, and worse " ThanSables yft have feign'd, or fear coBceiv'd.— VOL. t. B 4 ' 10 ORATION L wlule the infernal mansions themselves are moved at his approach, and the ghosts of departed tyrants rise up, in horrid array and mockery of triumph, to bid* him welcome to his final abode! Thig^^stonishing grandeur and spirit of, this pas sage, and inde^ of the whole ode, are unrivalled by any* poet of Greek or Roman name. ^ 'tjHow, hath the oppressor ceased! The Lord *' hath broken the staff of the wicked! He that smote " the people in wr^th — ;that ruled ' the nations in " ang^i^^is persecuted and none hinderjeth! The *' whole earth is at, rest aud is quiet Tr^theybr^ak " forth into singing; yea the fir-tpjees. rejoice at thee, " and the cedars of Lebanon, saying, since thou art " laid down, no felle%is come up against us. " Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet ** the^ at thy coming. It stirreth up the dead for thee " — even all the chief ones of the earth! They shall " say unto thee, art thou also become weak as we? " Art thou become like unto usi' Thy pomp is *' brought down to the^rave — How art thou fallea " frQm heaven, O Lucifer, son ofthe morning! how * Alcscns himself (saith Bishop Newton) so highly renowned for his hatred of tyranny, and whose odes are alike aijimated by the spirit of I.i- beifty and Poetry, has nothing tjtat can be compared with the prophet in this place. The excellent Prelate, above quoted, hath a further remark on this pas sage, which it would Ire unpardonable to orait. "What a pleasure must it afford all readers of an exalted taste and " generous sentiments, aii true lovers of liberty, to hear the prophets thus •' exulting over tyrants and oppressors! The scriptures, altho.ugh,9ften per- ' •' verted to the purposes of tyranny, are yet in their own nature calculated . " to promote thg civil and religious liberties of maii^id. True religion, •' virtue and liberty, are more intimately co^ectetMan men commonly " consider." . , ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY^ H ** art. thou cut down to the ground, that didst weaken *' the nations? -iThat made the world as a wilderness, *^ destroyed the cities thereof, and opened not the ** house ofthe prisoners? All kings qf the nations, *' [meaning just and merciful kings] even all of -" them, lie in glory, every one in his own house " (or sepulchre) ; but thou art cast out of thy grave, "like an abominable branch; — thou shalt not be " joined with them in burial, because Aou hast de- *' strbyed thy land and slain thy people*." But although the rewav^Gi heroes, in the Chris- tian''s heaven, be our proper theme on this aglem^, day; yet the passing view which we ,have takep of the perdition decreed to tlie traitors of their country, in the Poefs hell, confirmed also by the voic,e of scripture, is not foreign to our main purpose. I know your bosoms glow with ^ strong an aversion to all the foes of liberty in this life, that yOu will surely avoid every thought and^ction, ^vhi^ might doom you to their company in the •life tof come ; and therefore, bidding adieu — and may it be an eternal adieu — ^to those dreary regions aud tfieir Jijisefable inhabitants, let us now exalt our joyous yiew, to those celestial mansions, where the benefac tors of mankind reap immortal triumphs! " Lo! the blest train advance along tj^nieadsj " And snowy wreaths adorn their glorious heads— *' Pajript^ vvho perigli'd for their country's right, ;. <' Or,nobIy triuraph'din the field of fight-^ " Worthies who life by' Useful arts refin'd, ¦> " With those who leave a deathless name behind, i <" Friends ofthe world, and patrons of nfenliind," &c. J * Isaiah, xiv. 12 ORATION I. But here, ye Pagan poets>, and thou prince of their choir, we leave you far behind; for your sublimest flights are, now infinitely short of the theme! Your gloomy theology g^ve you tolerable aid in forming a hell, but the utmost efforts of natural genius could not make a heaven, worthy of a rational and immortal soul! The glory of giving some animating descrip tion of that bliss" which eye hath not seen, nor ear " before heard, nor could the unenlightened heart of "man otherwise jconceiye,," was left for a more divine teachej-.i From him we learn, that a heart • ffure ^d,jdpta,cjb,ed. from sordid pleasures, a soul Panting after perfection, striving to imitate the good ness of heaven, anticipating its approving sentence, and,,devpte;d to the service of mankind,, shall at last rise and mix ,i.n eternal fellowship with the beatified family of Go1fl| ! • A poet nem, as may appear from the following lines o| Yhomson, can give us df sciriptions of elysian bliss, far superior to those of -Virgil ; " whose ^adeas pn this subject- (as Mr. Spence observes) although preferable to " those of Homer aftd aU the other ancient poets, are still so very low, that " they seem little inore than bbrirowed from holiday-sports on the banl(s of "Tiber"— ' ' ^ The sacred flame, thus enkindled, is nqt fed by the fuel of fection or party; but by pure benevolence and love ofthe public. It, therefore, soon rises above the selfish principles, refines and brightens as it rises, and expands itself into heavenly dimensions. Being inextinguishable in its own nature, the blood of thou sands, onthe scaffold or in the field, is but as oil poured into a conflagration, increasing its vehemence, till it consumes all before it ;• burning still clearer and stronger, unto the fuE dt^y; qf peace and civil hap- pruess. Those who enjoy a true portion of this divine Siscme, duly called forth into' exercise, stand in- nq need of further titles or distinctions, either by birth" or grant. For what can the world present greater to the sight of mortals, or even immortals, than a man who knows and' courts the blessings of peace, who' wishes to breathe out his last iu its arms; and, keep ing it still as his object, is nevertheless roused by the first pang of his suffering country; gi'ves his whole iHiistri'ous spirit to her relief; rises above all'hurrian allurements; never remits his zeal; fears nothing*; rfegardis nothing — ^but the sentiments which virtue and magnaniittity inspire ? What higher qualities can be required to entitle a man to the veneration and eulo gies of his country? And these too will be his most durable monument. * I^ihil extimescere; onjnia: tiumana despicere; nihil <{uod homini aceidere possit intolerandum putare. Cic VOL. I. C 4 18 ORATION L ' The magnificent structures raised by the grati tude of mankind to their benefactors of old, had but a local and temporary use. They were beheld only by one people, and for a few ages — " -', , .'i ,^ 1 ' ,- / »^ " The Heav'n aspiring pyramid, the proud " Triumphal arch, and all that e'er upheld " The worshipp'd name of hoar antiquity " Are mouldering into dust" In vain does the way-faring man investigate the tottering ruins for the divinity once enshrine;d there ! A scanty receptacle, about six feet in length and half the breadth, informs him that it once pontained some human dust, long since mingled with the common mass. In vain does the prying antiquary dwell upon the sculpture, qr strive to collect and. spell tlie scat tered fragment^'of letters. The inscription is gone — long since gone, effaced, obliterated! And fruitless were the search, through the whole world, fbr the hero's name,- if it were not recorded in the orator^s page, or proclfiimed by the faithful voice of history. There it shall live, while the smallest vestiges of literature remain upon earth — yea, till the final disso- kitiqn of things human; nor shall it perish then; but, being the immediate care of Heaven, the great arch angel, when he sweeps suns and systems from their place, and kindles up their last fires, stretching forth his: .mighty arm, shall pluck the precious scroll from the (devouring conflagration, and give it a place among the archives of eternity. But whither am I borne ? to what heights have I ascended? I look down with astonishment and trem- ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 19 ble at my situation! Oh! Let your friendly arms be extended to save me as I fall. For in the idea I have of my subject, I have undertaken to guide the chariot ofthe sun; and how shall I steer through the exalted tract that lies before me? Considering myself as honoured with this day's office by the delegated voice of some millions of people through a vast continent^ upon an occasion, wherein their gratitude, their dignity, their love of liberty, nay even their reputation in literature — are all in some degree concerned; what lan'guage shall luse, or how shall I accommodate myself to every circumstance, in the arduous work? Truth alone must guide the hand that dtelineates a character. Should laffect to soar aloft and dip my pencil in the Colours qf the sky, I should but scorch my own wings, melt their wax, and be precipi tated headlong. Nor is the danger less in the other extreme'; viz. timidity, or a rein too strait and stiff". Oh! then, for some better Phoebus, some presiding genius, to guide me through my remaining way; to point out the middle path, and teach me to unite dignity with ease, strength -H'ith perspicuity, and truth with the unaffected graces of elocution. Or rather, you shall be my PhcEbus, my inspiring as -well as presiding genius, ye delegated fathers of your country! So far will I strive to imitate* him, who always ' animated himself with his subject, by thus accosting himself before he went forth to speak — " Remember, "thotv art this day going to address men born in the arms of liberty, Grecians, Athen- * Pericles. 20 ORATION I. inns!"— Let no thought enter thy heart-— let no word Tall from thy tongue — unwoithy of such an audience. As to that hero, whose memory we are now met to celebrate as a Proto- Martyr* to our rigirts— for through whatever fields I have strayed, he has never escaped my view — as to him, I say, if any thing human cquld now reach his ear, nothing but the great concerns of virtue, liberty, truth and justice would be tolerable to him ; for to these was his life devoted from his early years. He had received a liberal education in Ireland his native country, before he went into the army; and was indeed endued with talents which would have led him to eminence in any profession. His own he studied with a felicity which soon distinguished his military abilities. But war and conquest having no other charms to him than as the necessary means of peace and happiness to mankind, he still found lei sure, in the midst of camps, to cultivate an excellent taste for philosophy and polite literature. To these he added a careful study ofthe arts of government, and the rights of mankind; looking forward to that time, when he might return into the still scenes of private life; and give a full fiow to the native and acquired virtues of a heart rich in moral excellence. Above eighteen years ago, he had attained the rank of captain in the 17th British regiment, under General Monckton, and stood full in the way of higher preferment ; having borne a share in all the • The author did not intend to appropriate this term so as to forget th'e merit of Dr. Warren, and other brave men who fell before in the ¦ame cause. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 21 labours qf qur American wars, and the reduction of Canada.^ Ill-fated region! shra-t-sighted mortals! Little did he foresee the scenes which that land had still in reserve for him! Little did thqse generous Aniericans, who then stood by his side, think that they were assisting to subdue a country, which Would one day be held up over us, as a greater scourge in the hands of friends, than ever it was in the hands of enemies! Had such a thought then entered their hearts, they would have started with indignation from the deed of horror. Their heroism would have appeared mad ness and parricide! The lifted steel would have dropped from the warrior's arm! The' axe and the hoe from the labourer's hand ! America would have weeped through all her forests ; and her well- cultivat ed fields refused to yield farther sustenance to hpr degraded sons! But far different were our thoughts at that time. We considered ourselves as co-operating with our British brethren for the glory ofthe empire; to enable them to secure our common peace and liberty ; to humanize, adorn, and dignify, with the privileges of freemen, a vast continent ; to become strong in our strength , happy in our happiness; andtoderive that from our affection, which no force can extort from a free people; and which the miserable and oppressed cannot give! And these, too, were the sentiments of our la mented hero; for he had formed an early attachment, amounting even to an enthusiastic love, to this country! The woodland and the plain; the face oF nature, grand, venerablej and yet rejoicing in her 2^ ORATION L prime; our mighty rivers, descending in vast torrents through wild and shaggy mbuntains, or gliding iii silent majesty through fertile vales; their numerbus branches and tributary springs; our romantic scenes of rural quiet; our simplicity of manners, yet uncor rupted by luxury or flagrant vice; our love of know'- ledge and ardor for liberty — all these served to convey the idea of primaeval felicity to a heart which he had taught to beat unison with the harmony of Heaven! He therefore chose America, as the field of his future usefulness; and as soon as the blessings of peace were restored to his country, and duty to his sovereign would permit, lie took his leave ofthe army; and having soon connected himself, by marriage, with an ancient and honourable family, in the province of New-York, he chose a delightful retirement upon the banks of Hudson's river, at a distance from the' noise of the busy world! Having a heart distended with benevolence, and panting to do good, he soon acquir ed, without courting it, from his neighbours, that authority, which an opinion of superior talents and inflexible integrity, never fails to, create. In this most eligible of all situations, the life ofa country gentleman, deriving its most exquisite relish from reflection tipon past dangers and past services; he gave full scope to his philosophic spirit, and taste for rural elegance. Self-satisfied and raised above vulgar ambition, he devoted his time to sweet do mestic intercourse with the amiable partner of his heart, friendly converse with men of worth, the study of useful books, and the improvement of his favoured villa. Nor from that happy spot did he wish to stray, ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 23 until he should receive his last summons to happiness more than terrestrial. But when the hand of power was stretched forth against the land of his residence, he had a heart too noble not to sympathize in its distress. From that fatal day — in which the first American blood was spilt by the hostile hands of British brethren, and the better genius of the empire, veiling her face in an guish, turned abhorrent from the strife of death among her children — I say, from that fatal day, he cjiose his part. ~ Although his liberal spirit placed him above local prejudices, and he considered himself as a member of the empire at large; yet America, struggling in the cause of Liberty, henceforth became his peculiar country ;^-and that country took full possession of his sotil; lifting him above this eailhly dross, and every private affection ! Worth like his could be no longer hid in the shades of obscurity ; nor permit him to be placed in that inferior station v.'ith which a mind, great in humility and self-denial, would have been contented. It was wisely considered that he who had so well learned to obey, was fittest to command; and therefore, being well assured of his own heart, he resigned himself to. the public voice, nor hesitated a moment longer to accept the iraportant commission freely offered to him ; and, with the firm ness of another Regulus, to bid ferewel to his peaceful retirement, and domestic endearments. Here followed a scene of Undissembled tenderness and distress, which all who hear me may, in some degree, conceive; but all cannot truly feel. You only 24 ORATION I. who are husbands and fathers — ^vdiose hearts have been intimately blended with the partners ofyour bliss, and have kno-wn the pangs of separation, when launching into dangers, uncertain ofyour fate — You only would I now more directly address. Give a moment's pause for reflectiqn! Recall your o-wn former feelings, your inward struggles, yqur virtuotis tears ; even qn a tran sient separatiqn frqm a belqved family! Here bid them again freely flow while you listen to our hero's parting words — Ye scenes where home-felt pleasures dVell, And thou, my dearer self,, farewell 1 " Perhaps the cypress, only tree " Of all these groves, shall follow me*" — But still, to triumph or a tomb, Where Virtue calls, I come, I comet. "I COME, I cqme!" Nor were these the words of disappointed ambition; nor .dictated by any sudden start of party zeal. He had weighed the cqntest well, was intimately acquainted with the un alienable rights bf freemen, and ready tq suppqrt them at every peril! He had long foreseen and lamented the fatal issue to which things were hastening. He knew that the sword of civil destruction, once drawn, is not easily sheathed; that men, having, their minds inflamed and the weapons qf defence in their hands, seldom know the just point where to stop, even when they have it in their power; and often prqceed to ac tions, the bare contemplation qf which wquld at first ha^i^e astqnished them. • Hor. B. 2. Odp. 14. L. 22. 34. t These lines were set and performed to music, which gave an oppor tunity of a pause, in delivering the oration. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 25 It was therefore his desire rather to soften than enflame viqlent humours, wishing that America, in all her actions, might stand justified in the sight of God and the world. He foresaw the horrid train of evils which would be let loose by the stroke which should sever the ancient bond of union between Great-Britain and us. It was therefore his wish that such a stroke should never proceed first from the hand of America. Nor did it so proceed. The resistance made at Lexington was not the traiterous act of men conspiring against the supreme powers; nor directed by the councils of any public body in America; but rose immediately out of the case, and was dictated by self-preservation, the first great law of nature as well as society. If there was any premeditated scheme here, it was premeditated by those who created the dreadful necessity, either of resistance or ruin. For could it be expected that any people, possessing the least remains of virtue and li berty, would tamely stibmit to destruction and ravage — to be disarmed as slaves; stripped of their property, and left a naked prey even to the insults of surround ing savages? Was this an experiment worthy of Great-Britain? Where was the wisdom of her counsellors? Had their justice, their moderation quite forsaken them ? Could they possibly expect obedience in such a case as this? Would they themselves, in a similar case, even under a legislative authority of their own free choice, submit to laws which would destroy the great end of all laws, self-preservation ? Human nature says, VOL. I. ' ., D 4 26 ORATION I. no. The genius ofthe English constitution says, no. The nation itself hath heretofore said, no; and a great oracle* of its laws has given his sanction to the verdict — " In cases of national oppression," says he, " the nation hath very justifiably risen as one man, to " vindicate the original contract, subsisting between " the king and people." And — " If the sovereign " power threaten desolation to a state, mankind will " not be reasoned out of the feelings of humanity, " nor sacrifice liberty to a scrupulous adherence to " political maxims." If the case of America does not come within the above description, there seems to be no equity left upon earth ; and whatever is exacted by force must be yielded through fear. But if justice be any thing more than a name, it is surely a solecism in politics to say, that one part of a free country has a right to command that which the other " cannot o^^y without " being slaves, nor resist without being rebels.''^ Yet to such a sad dilemma does the parliamentary claim of a " right to bind us in all cases whatsoever," reduce America; involving in it a total surrender of our liberties ; superseding the use of our own legisla tures, marking us with such a badge of servitude as no freeman can consent to wear; and subjecting us to burdens laid by those who are not only unacquaint ed with our circumstances, and bear no part of the weight, but ease themselves in proportion as they load us. If this be lav:, if it be equity, it has no example * Blackstone. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 27 among any other people, possessing the least glimmer ings of virtue or native freedom. But althotigh this claim be so repugnant to every idea qf natural as well as legal justice, that the guilt of blqqd which it may qccasion can be chargeable qnly on those who attempt to enforce it; yet I am well assured that when compelled at last by hard ne- tJessity, either to avert the dagger pointed at our breast or crouch to unconditional servitude, our hero's heart bled for the dreadful alternative. - His principles of loyalty to his sovereign (whom he had long served, and whose true ¦glory consists in healing those streaming wounds) remained firm and unshaken. Love to our brethren whom we must oppose; the interchange of good offices, which had so intinaately knit the bonds of friendship between them and us; the memory qf those better days in which we fought and triumphed together; the vast fabric of mutual happiness raised by our union, and ready to be diasqlved by our dissentions ; the annihilation of those numerous plans of improvement in which we were engaged for the glory of the empire — all these considerations conspired to render this contest pecu liarly abhorrent to him and every virtuous American, and could have been outweighed by nothing earthly, but tbe unquenchable love of liber^, and that sacred duty which we owe to ourselves and our posterity. Hence, as appears from his papers, even Ln the full triumph of success, he most ardently joined his worthy- friend* General Schuyler in praying tliat " Heaven * Id his letter of Nov. 8ih- 28 ORATION I. " may speedily re-unite us in every bond ofafFectiqn " and interest; and that the British empire may again " become the envy and admiration of the universe, " and flourish" till the consummation of earthly things.' This part of his character, I dwell upon with particular satisfaction; and indeed had he evidenced a contrary sentiment, or gone forth in the rage of con quest, instead 'of the spirit oi reconciliation; notall his other virtues, nor yet the respect which I owe to the appointment wherewith I am now honoured, could have induced me to appear in this place, on this occasion. God forbid that any of the profession to which I belong, should ever forget their peculiar character, exercise a turbulent spirit, or prostitute their voice to enflame men's minds to the purposes of wild ambition, or mutual destruction. I am happy in knowing that nothing of this kind is wished from me; nay that the delegated voice of the continent, as well as of this particular province, supports me in praying for a restoration " of the former harmony between Great- " Britain and these Colonies upon so firm a basis as " to perpetuate its blessings, uninterrupted by any " future dissentions, to succeeding generations in " both countries*" • The above paragraph having been either misrepresented or raisun derstood by some, the author does not think himself at liberty to make the least alteration in it, even if hejudged any to be necessary. The quota tion from the last petition of congress, as well as the reference made to the instructions of our assembly, both point to a past period; and the author ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 29 Indeed this matter rests in safe hands, and is clear in itself. If redress of grievances, essential liberty, and security against future oppression can be obtained, according to our own desires; then neither consis tency, dignity, nor a regard to our illustrious British friends, who have defended our cause, pledged them selves for our sincerity, and hope by our aid to restore and perpetuate the glory of the whole empire, can suffer us to hesitate. To say, let them look to their own safety, and we will look to ours, would be un worthy of the liberal soul of any American, truly animated in our present cause, and with the love of universal liberty. But suppose these terms cannot be obtained? Why then, there will be no need of further arguments, much less of aggravations. Timid as my heart per haps is, and ill-tuned as my ear may be to the din of arms and the clangor of the trumpet ; yet, in that case, sounds which are a thousand times more harsh — ' ' even the croaking of frogs in the uncultivated fen," cannot he considered, from thence, as taking upon him to make the least declaration concerning the present sentiments of either of these bodies j nor is there a word which can preclude the taking into the terms of accommo dation, so far tis may be thought reasonable, the redress of whatever grievances or losses we may have sustained, since that period. Upon the whole, it is presumed, that a single sentiment is not to be found in tl-.e, oration, which is notfully consonant to every declaration of congress whicli has yet appeared. And to impute to them, oreven suspect, the least change of sentiment, before they themselves have declared it, would not only ba indecent but very injurious to our cause. The author is also consistent with himself, and if the same doctrines which, he has been told, were well received in his late publication [Sermon before General Cadwaludei-'s b'Ai- talion,] should now be disagreeable to any, the fault is not his. 50 ORATION I. or the howling of wild beasts around the spot, where Uberty 'dwelk, would be *' preferable tq the night- " ingale's sqng" in vales of slavery, qr the melting bqtes qf Cqrelli in cities clanking their chains! If this be a digressiqn, pardon it as the last, and due tq my qwn principles and consistency. I now hasten to attend our hero through the remainder of his career— short indeed! but crouded with scenes of virtuous activity, which would have dignified the longest life; and the best achievments of ancient re nown. The C^iada expedition is one of those measures, which the enemies of American peace, having first rendered necessary, will now strive to misconstrue into hostility and offence.. But when authentic, proofe were obtained that a people professing a religion, and subjected to laws, different from ours, together with numerous tribes of savages, were instigated and pre paring to deluge our frontiers in blood, let God and the world judge whether it w-as an act of offence; or father, whether it was not mercy to them, to ourselves, to the whole British empire, to use the means in our power for frustrating the barbarous attempt. Indeed there was benevolence in the whole plan of this expedition. It was to be executed not so much hy force as by persuasion; and appearing in the country with such a respectable strength, as might protect the inhabitants from the insults and vengeance ofthose, who were striving to make them lift up their reluctant arm to the shedding fraternal blood. It was further wished to kindle up the expiring lamp of li- ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. Si berty among them; to open their eyes to its divine efftilgence; and enable them to raise their drooping head, and claim its blessings as their own. This was a work, in all its parts, suited to the getiius ofa Montgomery. He had a head and heart which equally pointed him out as a fit guide in such an undertaking; for he understood and could well explain the blessings of a free government. Persuasion dwelt upon his tongue. He had a soul," great, disinterested, affectionate, delighting to alleviate distress;, and to diffuse happiness. He had an industry not to be wearied out; a vigilance not to be imposed upon; and a courage, when necessarj', equal to his other abilities. But still, with a few new-raised men, of different colonies, and perhaps different tempers; ill supplied with arms and ammunition; worse disciplined; unac customed to look cannon in the face; to make or to mount a breach — in such circumstances, I say, and in the short space of an autumnal and winter campaign, in rigorous northern climes, to achieve a work which cost Great-Britain and the colonies the labour of seve ral campaigns, and what was a sacrifice of infinitely more value — ^the life of the immortal Wolfe — this certainly required a degree of magnanimity beyond the ordinary reach, and the exertion of the highest abilities of every kind. The command and conduct of an army, w^ere but small parts of this undertaking. The Indians were to be treated with, restrained and kept in temper. The Canadians were likewise to be managed, pro tected and supported: And even his own army in 32 . ORATION I. some degree to be formed, disciplined, animated, accustomed to marches, encampments, dangers, fatigues, and the frequent want of necessaries. Camps, of all worldly scenes, often exhibit the greatest pictures of distress. The sick and the wounded — the dying and the dead — as well as the wants and sufferings of the living — all these call forth the most tender feelings, and require of a general, that, to the courage of a soldier, he should unite the utmost benevolence of a man ! Our general possessed these united qualities in their highest lustre; of Avhich there are numerous testimonies not only from his own army, but from the prisoners, English as well as Canadians, now amongst us. When his men laboured under fatigue, wanted bread and other necessaries, had their beds to make in snow or deep morasses, they were ashamed to complain, finding that he was willing to share in the execution of whatever he commanded. And the example which he thus set to others, did more tq inspire patience, obedience, love of order and disci pline, than the most rigid exercise of power could have done. The influence of this example was still stronger, as it did not appear to be the effect of con straint or political necessity; bpt the amiable expres sion of a sympathizing soul ; leading him to conde scend to all capacities ; exact in his own duties, and great even in common things. His letters, confi dential as -well as official, are a full proof of this. " Our encampment is so swampy, I feel, says he, " exceedingly for the troops; and provisions so ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY* 53 " scarce, it will require not only dispatch, but good ?* fortune, to keep us from distress — Should things *' not gq'^'wcll, I tremble for the fate of the poor Cana;- *' dians, who have ventured so much. What shall " I do with them, should I be obliged to evacuate *' this country? I have assured them that the United " Cqlqnies will as sqqn give up Massachusetts to " resentment as them."— These sentiments were wqrthy of a heroic soul, and of the faith he had pledged to those peqple. Nor is ^e less to be venerated for his tender regard to wards his own army — Instead of making a merit of his difficulties (which were indeed more than ought to be mentioned in this place) he often seeks to conceal them; ascribing any little faults or tardiness, in his youfig troops, tq their want of experience in forming; to their hard duty, the constant succession of bad weather and the like — still encouraging them to nobler efforts in future. And if any impatience of discipline appeared, he nobly attributes it to '* that '" spirit of freedom, which men accustomed to think ?' fqr themselves, will even bring intq camps with " them." His own superior military knowledge he has been known to sacrifice to the general voice, rather than interrupt that union on which success depended; and when a measure was once resolved upon by the ma jority, howevermuch contrary to his own advice and judgment, he magnanimously supported it with his utmost vigor; disdaining that work of low ambition^ which will strive to defeat in the eicecution, what it could not direct in planning. VOL. I. E 4 34 ^ ORATION I. His perseverance and conduct in gaining pqsses- sion of St. John's and Montreal, have already been the theme of every tongue, and need not be mention ed in this place. His abilities in negociation; the precision with which the various articles of treaties and ' capitulations are expressed; the generous ap- platisehe gives, riot only to every worthy effort of his own officers, but to the commanding officer and gar rison of St. John's; his noble declaration to the inha bitants of Montreal, " that the continental armies " despise every act of oppression and violence, being " come for the express purpose of giving liberty and " security''"' — all these, I say, did honour to himself, and to that delegated body, under whose^authority he acted. Lea-ving him, therefore, for a while — alas too short a wliile-^-to enjoy the noblest of all triumphs, the applause of his country, and the conscious testimony of his own heart, let us inquire after another band of brave and hardy men, whq are stemming rapid rivers, ascending pathless mquntains, traversing unpeqpled deserts, and hastening thrqugh deep mqrasses and gloomy woods to meet him in scenes of anotlier issue — -0e^rts in vain Oppos'd tlieir course, and deep rapacious floods,' And mountains in -whose jaws destruction grin'd, Hunger and toil — Armenian sno-ws and storms! Greece in their view and glory yet untouch'd, They held their fearless vi^ay — Oh ! strength of mind Almost almighty in severe extremes I Thomson- ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 35 This praise was paid to ten thousand heroes, sus taining every danger, in a retreat to their own cquntry, and is certainly due, so far as heroism is concerned, to less than a tenth parth of the number, marching through equal difficulties against the capital of a hostile country. Even the march of Hannibal over the Alps, so much celebrated in history, (allowing for the dispari ty of numbers);has nothing in it of superior merit, to the march of Arnold; and in many circumstances there is a most striking similitude. The former had to encounter the rapid Rhone; the latter, the more rapid Kennebeck, through an immense length of country. The former, when he came to quit the river, found his further passage barred by mquntains, rearing their snq^y crests to the sky, rugged, wild, uncultivated. This was also the case with the latter, whose troops, carrying their boats and baggage, were obliged to cross and recross the same mountain^ sundry times, At the foot ofthe mountains, the former was deserted by three thou sand of his army, desponding at the length ofthe way, and terrified at the hideous view of those stupendous heights, which they considered as impassable^— In like circumstances, about a third part of the army of the latter, deserted shall I say, or use the more courteous language — " returned home*." The march • When the oration was delivered, the author did not know that an inquiry had been made into the reasons ofthe return of this party, and that thecommanding officer has been acquitted. But as a very general censure had been passed upon him through the Colonies, it was judged much more 36 *r^ ORATION L of the former was about twelve hundred miles in five months. The Virginia and Pennsylvania rifle-com panies, belonging to the latter, including their first march frqm their qwn habitatiqns tq Cambridge, and thence to Quebec, marched near the same distance in about three months. Besides these rifle-companies, Arnold's corps consisted of about five hundred New-England troops, who sustained all the fatigues ofthe worst part ofthe march by land and water^ witih tiie utmost fortitude. And General MoNTooMERy, ever ready to do justice to merit, having joined them before Quebec, gives their cqmmander and them this character " they are an exceeding fine body of men, inured *' to fatigue, with a style of discipline anaong thera " much superior to What I have been used to see this "campaign — He himsdlf is active, inteHigent, and *' enterprizing." Having approacTied those plains which the blood df Wolfe hath consecrated to deathless fame, our hero seemed emulqus of his glory, and animated with a honourable for him to insert.an account of his acquitment, than to sup press the paragraph — for'all these transactions will be fully scrutinized by future historians. It was atthe foot of the Pyrenees that the 3000 deserted from Han|iil]al, and he freely dismissed 7000 more, whose courage he perceived was not equal to the undertaking. Indeed Livy tells us that the sight of the Alps, " their snow-clad tops almost penetrating Heaven, the rude cottages built " on rocks, sheep and oxen pinched with cold, the men savage and wearing " long beards, every thing both animate and itvanimate stiff with frost"— -stntckeven theremainder of his army with a temporary panic. It is not clear what use Hannibal made of his lioats after crossing the Rhone, whether to carry his baggage, as he ascended along its banks, or not. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 37 kindred spirit. The situation of his army pressed dispatch! snows and frost only quickened his motions. He hoped by one successful stroke, before the arrival of succours tothe garrison, to complete his plan, and save the future effusion of much blood. He further flattered himself, that his success, if speedy^ might have, some influence upon parliament, in hastening a reconciliatiqn. He understood that maxim of For lard — *' No obstacle should break our resolution, " when there is but a moment between a bad situation " and a worse" — 'This sentiment he expresses in his last letter with a spirit of modesty, and a sense of duty, as well as the danger attending it, which ought to be forever recorded to his glory.r-^" I shall be sorry to " be -reduced to this mode of attack; because I know V the melancholy consequences. But the approach- ** ing severity of the season, the weakness of the *' garrison, together with the nature of the works, " point it out too strong tq be passed by. Fortune " often baffles the most sanguine expectations of poor " mortals — 1 am not intoxicated with the favours I " have received at her hands-— But I think there is a " fair prospect of success." , Poor mortals indeed, if nothing was to remain of them after death; for while he was courting this suc cess, and gloriously leading on his troops in the front of danger, he received the fatal stroke, which in an instant released his great spirit, to follow and join the immortal spirit of Wolfe! O thou swift winged messenger of destruction, liow didst thou triumph in that moment! the stroke 38 ORATION L that severed Montgomery from his army, deprived them of more than a member. _ It reached the vitals, and struck the whole body with a temporary death. As when the forked lightning, darting through the forest, amid the black tempests of night, rends some to-tt'ering oak, and lays its honours in the dust, the inferior trees which it had long sheltered from the storm, stand mournful around, so stood the astonished bands over their fallen chieftain ! — ^nor over him alone ; but over others, in their prime of glory, prostrate by his side ! Here, ye PenUsylvanian youths, second to none in virtue, let a portion of your tears be sacred to the maries of Macpherson ! You remember his generous spirit in his early years, for he drank of the same springs of science with many of you now before me ; and we who reached the cup to your lip, rejoice that it contributed to invigorate both him and you into wisdom and public spirit. Having finished his scho lastic* education, he studied the laws of his country, under a lawyer and patriotfof distinguished name; and animated by his example, as Well as precepts, had become eminent in his profession, at an age when • He was educated partly at the college of Philadelphia, and partly at that of New-Jersey. A few days before his death, he visited the very spot on which General Wolfe expired; and the reflections ih his letter on this occasion, as well as in that which he left sealed up, for his father, in case of ills death in the attack upon Quebec, were such as became a Christian and a soldier. He bequeathed what little fortune he had accumulated, to his only brother, an officer in the regular army. As a reward for his ser vices, he was appointed by the Congress, a Major in a battalion to be raised ill the Delaware counties, but had received no account of this promotion. t John Dickinson, Esquire. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 39 some have scarce begun to think of business. The lov,e of liberty being his ruling passion, he thought it his duty in the present struggle, to offer himself to the service of his country, and he had soon an oppor tunity of attaining that military pre-eminence, of which he was laudably ambitious. Enjoying a hereditary bravery, joined to a well cultivated understanding, and an active spirit, he soon became the bosom friend of General Montgomery, was his aid de camp, was entrusted with a share in the management of his most important negociations, stood by his side in the attack upon Quebec, and being, as it were, animated by one common soul, and dear to eaeh other in life — in death, they were not a moment divided! Here likewise fell Captain Cheeseman, of the New-York forces, covered with honour, and lamented by all who knew him, as an active and gallant officer. His particular merits, as well as the merits of some others, who shared his fate, ought to be more fully commemorated on this occasion, if proper accounts of them could be collected. I must not, however, omit the name of the brave Captain Hendricks, who commanded one ofthe Penn sylvania rifle-companies, and was known to me from his infancy. He was indeed prodigal of his life, and courted danger qut of hife tour of duty. The com mand of the guard belonged to him, on the morning of the attack ; but he solicited and obtained leave to take a more conspicuous post; and having led his men through the barrier, where his commanding offi- 40 ORATION I. cer. General Arnold, was wounded, he long sustained the fire of the garrison with unshaken firmness, till at last, receiving a shot hi his breast, he immediately expired.* Such examples of magnanimity filled even adver saries with veneration and esteem. Forgetting the foes in the heroes, they gathered up their breathless remains, and committed them to kindred du§t, with pious hands " and funeral honours meet." — So may your own remains, and particularly thine, O ! Carlton, be honoured, should it ever be your fate to fall in hqstile fields ! Or if, amid the various chances of war, your lot should be among the prisoners and the wounded, may you be distinguished with an ample return of that benevolence which you have shewn to others. Such offices of humanity, softening the savage scenes of war, will entitle you to an honour which all the pride of conquest cannot bestow — much less a conquest over fellow-subjects, contending for the common rights of freemen. By such offices as these, you likewise give a gleam of comfort to those mourners, who mix their tears without ourf Schuylkill and Susquehannah ; and tq her J especially, qn Hudsqn's river, pre-epii- * These particulars were certified by General Thompson and Colonel Mar ganu, his commanders in the Pennsylvania rifle-regiment, and they give me this further character of him in their letter, viz. " No fatigues or duty "ever discouraged hirn. ...He paid the strictest attention to his company, "and was ambitious that they should excel in discipline, sobriety and " oi-der. His social and domestic virtues you were well acquainted with." — t The rivers on which the parents of Major Macpherson and Captain. Henctricks IJve. J Mrs. Montgomery. ON GENERAL MONTGOMERY. 41 uent in woe ! Ye angels and ministers of grace, com plete her consolations! Tell her, in gentlest accents, what wreaths of glory you have entwined, to adorn the brows of those who die for their country ; and hovering for a while, on the iving of pity, listen to the mournful strain, flowing to a deceased husband. - * Sweet ivy twih'd with myrtle, form a shade Around the tomb where brave Montgomery's laid ! Beneath your boughs, shut from the beams of day. My ceasless tears shall bathe the warrior's clay ; And injur'd " Freedom shall a while repair, To dwell, with rae, a weeping hermit there." Having now paid the honours due to the memo ries of our departed friends, what need I add more? Illustrious, although short, was their race! " But old age is not that which standeth in length of time, nor is measured by number of years — wisdom is the grey hair to man, and an unspotted life is old age." To such men, Rome in all her glory would have decreed honours; and the resolve of Congress to trans mit the memory of their virtues, is worthy of that magnanimity which ought to characterize public bodies. Jealous and arbitrary rulers are sparing of honours to those who serve them, lest their own should be thus eclipsed. But your lustre, gentlemen, can suffer no diminution this way; and the glory you justly bestow upon others, will only be reflected to encrease your own! • The original lines, for which these were substituted and performed to music, are well known, viz. I " Wind gentle ever-green to form a shade, " Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid, &c. Part of the two last lines is from an ode of Co/ZiBS. , . , F 4 AT A MEETING OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. ON motion, resolved unanimously, that the thanks of this. Society be givento the liev. Dr. William Smith, for^jrepar- ing, and deliveringat their desire, the Oration or Eulogium, as a tribute to the memory of their illustrioiis president Dr. Ben jamin Franklin ; and that he be requested to fiimish the society -with a copy of the same, for publication. Ordered, that a transcript of this resolution be forthwith made, and delivered to Dr. Smith, by one ofthe secretariea. Extract from the Minutes, Samuel Magaw, Secretary. Mauch 4, 17-91. TO THE PUBLIC. TJ'HE assistance derived by the author in the composition ofthe following Eulogium, from the friendly communications of some of his learned colleagues, among the officers of the American Philosophical Society, requires his public acknow ledgments to be raade to^ them,, viz. To David Rittenhouse, Esq., L. L- D. president of the society, for sundry papers, which have been digested into the' account of Dr. Franklin's electrical and philosophical discove ries, from page 64 to 71.- To Thomas Jeffersow, Esq. L. L. D. one of the vice presidents of the society, and secretary of the United Statesr fbr his letter, concerning Dr. Franklin's ministry at the court of France, page 75 to 77. To- Jonathan ¦Williams, Esq. one of the secretaries of the society, far the original letter, page 80, 81;. and some papers in the, appendix. To Bknj.amin Rush, M. D. oneof the council of the socie ty, for some sketehe'sof Dr. Franldin's character, of which the author has availed himself, p. 50. The length of time, which (from some necessa:ry avocations both of the author and publisher) has intervened between tlie flelivevy of this Eulogium, and its issuing from thcipress, re quires an apology; and might induce an expectation 'of its appearing at last in a more improved state. But if either the author's leisure or abilities had pei-mitted the attempt of im- pi'ovements,' by a deviation from the original work, he would have considered them as unjustifiable on such an occasion; and therefore, it is subraitted to the public candor, without the least addition, excepting the appendix, and the alteration only of a few words. V. . ,,..¦.. ORATION II. BEING AN EULOGIUM ON BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, L. L. D. President of the American Philosophical Society, Fellow of the Royal Society of London. Member of the Royal Academy of Sci ences at Paris, of the itoyal Society at Gottingen, the Batavian Society in Holland, and of many other Literary Societies in Europe and America; late Minister Plenipotentiary for the United States of America at the Court of Paris, sometime Presideijt, and for more than half a century a revered citizen, of the Commonwealth cf Pennsylvania. DELIVERED MARCH I, 1791, IN THE GERMAN LUTHERAN CHURCH pF THE CITY OrF PHILADELPItiA, BEFORE. THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, AND AGREEABLY TO THEIR APPOINTMENT. THIS S01.EM-NITY -WAS ALSO HOU-OtJRED lyiTH 'THE PRESENCE (J* THE PRESIDENT, SENATE, AND HOUSE Ot REPRESENTATIVES' ,0B THE TINITED STA-TES'OF AMEKICA, CHE Se'nATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF PENMSYLVAIfaAj THE CORt^ORATlON, AND MOST OF THE PUBLIC BODIES, AS WELL AS RESPECTIABLE PRIVATE cmiZENS^ OF S*IfADE^LPHIA. ORATION, See. CITIZENS OF Pennsylvania! ttrinriNARiEs of science I ASSEMBLED FATHERS OF AMERICA 1 Ii. E ARD you not that solemn interroga tory? Who is ffe that now recedes from his labours among you ? What citizen, super-eminent in council, do you now deplore? What luminary, what splendid sun of science, from the hallowed walks of philosophy, now with draws his loeams? What father of his country, what hero, what statesman, what law-giver, is now extinguished froni your political hemisphere j and invites the mournful obsequies ? Is it He — yoiir Tranklin? — It cannot be! — Liong since, full of years, and full of honours, hath he submitted to the inexorable call, and proceeded on his fated journey*. From west to east, by land and on the wide ocean, to the utmost extent of the civil ized globe, the tale hath been tdd — That the vene- • He died April 17, 1790. ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 45 rable sage o/" Pennsylvania, the patriot snd patriarch of America, is no more. With the plaudits of the wise and good; with the eulogies of whole* nations and communities, he hath received his dismission, and obtained the award of glory — " As a citizen, " whose genius was. not more an ornament to human " nature, than his various exertions of it have been " precious to science, to freedom, and to his coun- " tryf." What new occasion, then, (methinks I hear it in quired) invites the present solemnity, and convenes this illustrious assembly of citizens, philosophers, patriots, and law-givers ? Must it be said in answer, " That, after the name of Franklin hath been con secrated to deathless fame in the most distant coun tries, the American Philosophical Society are now, for the first time, assembled, to pay the tribute of public homage, so long due to the memory and the manes of their beloved founder and head? On me! on me, I fear, must the blame of this delay, in some degree, fall! On me, perhaps, a much greater blame will fall, than of a delay, rendered unavoidable, on my part, by some mournful family- circumstances — I mean the blame of having attempted a duty, which might have been better discharged by other members of this society, and at the time first proposed. • See the Eulogiuras of the Abbe Fauchet and M. de la Sochefoucault, before the deputies of the national assembly of France and the munici pality of Paris. t See Mr. Madison's motion, and the act of the representatives of the United States of America in congress, for wearing the customary badge of mourning, for one raonth^ on occasion of his death. 46 ORATION II. , Yet I know not whether this delay is to be ac counted inauspicious to the subject before us. Ther« are some phenomena so luminous, that they dazzle and dim the sight, at too near an approach; some structures so grand, that they can be beheld with iad- vantage, only at a distance; some characters so interesting, that they can be duly appreciated, only by time.The truth of this remark hath been feelingly ac knowledged, and fiiiely described, by the celebrated Pericles, in his anniversary commenioration of the Athenians slain in battle. ^' It is difficult," says he, " to handle a subject judiciously, where even probable truth will hardly gain assent. When the debt of public gratitude is to be paid to the memory of those, in whom whole communities have been interested, their nearest rela tives, those who have borne a share in their illustri ous actions, enlightened by an intimate acquaintance with their worth,^^warm in their grief and v^^arm in their affections apd praise, may quickly pronounce every eulogium to be unfavourably expressed, in respect to what they wish to be said, and what they know to be jttie tputh; while the stranger pronounceth all to be exaggerated, through envy of those deeds, which, h« is conscious, are above hip own achievement:" Yas men endure with patience the praise of thoSe actions only^ in their cotemporaries, which their self-love represents^ as within their own reach. But time mel lows a 'Character into true relish, and ripens it into ¦'veherable beauty. ' The public, indeed, may some times too hastily bestow, and may likewise too long ON Dr. franklin. 47 withhold, the tribute of applause due to merit; but, in the- latter case, will always make full amends, and decide at length with solidity of judgment, assigning to every worthy his true place in the temple of fame. It seldom happens, however, that they who are first called to give celebrity to the actions of great men, are placed in that exact situation, either in respect to time or point of view, which may enable them to delineate a whole character, in all its proportions and beauty. This is a work, of all others, the most dif ficult in the performance; nor is the difficulty lessened by the acknowledged lustre and eminence of the cha racter in view. And from hence it hath happened, perhaps, that, in eulogy and penegyric, but few of the moderns, and not many of the ancients, have been successful. While they have been striving to weave the garlands of others, their own laurels have withered and dropt from their brow ! Yet, neither the risque of character, nor the dif ficulties ofthe subject, ought to deter us from attempt ing, at least, to pay the honours due to transcendent merit. The inimitable Longinus furnishes our ex cuse " In great attempts, 'tis glovious even to fail" — The desire ofjame and posthumous glory, " grasp ing at ages to come," as it bespeaks the nalive.dignity of the soul of man, and anticipates his existence in another world, is also the most powerful incentive to moral excellence in this world. It is.for the interest of raankind that so divine a passion should be culti- 48 oration il vated, rewarded, and held up for imitation. The neglect of it would have an unfriendly influence on virtue and public spirit. The wisest and most re nowned nations have not only voted thanks and : triumphs to their illustrious citizens, while living; but have celebrated them in eulogies, when dead; and have erected altars 6f virtue and monuments of ho nour, to perpetuate their names to succeeding ages and generations. Thus did Greece and Rome, in the best days of their republics; and it was the " manner ofthe Egyp- *' tians, the fathers of arts and sciences, not onlyfto " celebrate the names and actions of their departed " worthies, but to embalm their bodies, that they " might long be kept in public view, as examples of " virtue, and, although dead,yet speaking."* It was also an established custom of the Athenians, every winter, to solemnize a public funeral of their heroes who had fallen in battle. "A day was appointed, and a tabernacle erected ." for the purpose ; and for the space of three days " before the celebration ofthe ceremony, all were at " liberty to deck out the remains of their friends at " their own discretion. The bones of the slain were " brought to the tabernacle at the day appointed, in " a grand procession. Ten cypress coffins were " drawn on her ses or carriages, duly ornamented, " one for every tribe; in each of which were sepa- , • The same sentiments partly occur here as in the former Oration, re specting the use of funeral ILulogies — wliich could not be avoided as the Orations vvere of different dates, and, in some degree, before different •udiences. '' ON Dr. franklin. 49 " rately contained the bones of all that belonged to " that tribe. Distinguished above the rest, one " sumptuous bier was carried along empty ; as for " all those that were missing, whose bodies could " not be found amongst the slain. All who were " wiUing, both citizens and strangers, attended the " solemnity, and the women who were related to the " deceased took their station near the sepulchre, " groaning and lamenting, while the remains were " deposited in the public burying-place, which stood " inthe finest suburb ofthe city; for it had been the " custom to bury in that place all who fell fighting " for their country, except those at Marathon, whose " extraordinary valour the Athenians judged proper " to honour with a sepulchre on the field of battle. " As soon as this public interment was ended, some " orator, selected for the office by the public voice, " and always a person in great esteem for his high " understanding, and of chief dignity amongst them, " pronounced over them the Euloge or Panegyric — " and this done, they departed." This"' interesting account is given by Thucydi- des*: And circumstanced as the people of these United States now are, and as our posterity, for ages to come, must be, in building up and completing the glorious fabric of American empire and happi ness, it might be a wise institution, if (in imitation of this Athenian sepulture, or of the Genoese feast of union) we shojild make, at least, an annual pause; and consecrate a day to the review of past events, * Book II. VOL. r. c 4 50 ORATION IL the commemoration of illustrious characters who have borne a share in the foundation and establish ment of our renown, and particularly those of whom we may have been bereft during each preceding year. In that view, how many patriots, statesmen, and philosophers, would now pass before us ? — A Living ston, a Bowdoin, a Franklin ! At the name of -Franklin, every thing interesting to virtue, freedom, and humanity, rises to our recol lection ! By what Euloge shall we do justice to his pre-eminent abilities and worth ? This would require a pre-eminence of abilities and worth, like his own. His vast and comprehensive mind was cast in a mould, which nature seems rarely to have used before, and, therefore, can be measured only by a mind cast in a similar mould. His original and uni versal genius was capable of the greatest things, but disdained not the smallest, provided they were use ful. With equal ease and abilities, he could conduct the affairs of a printing-press, and of a great nation; and discharge the duties of a public minister of state, or the private executor of a will. Those talents, which have separately entered into the composition of other eminent characters in the various depart ments of life, were in him united to form one great and splendid character; and whoever, in future, shall be said to have deserved well of his country, need not think hiinself undervalued, when he shall be com pared to a Franklin, in any of the great talents he pos sessed; but the happy man who shall be said to equal him in his whole talents, and who shall devote them ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 51 to the like benevolent and beneficent purposes, for the service of his country and the happiness of man kind, can receive no further addition to his praise. Franklin, as a philosopher, might have become a Newton ; and as a lawgiver, a Lycurgus : But he was greater than either of them, by uniting the talents of both, inthe practical philosophy of doing good; com pared to which, all the palms of speculative Avisdom and science wither on the sight. He did not seek to derive his eminence from the mere profession of letters, which, although laborious, seldom elevates a man to any high rank in the public confidence and esteem; but he became great by applying his talents to things useful, and accommodating his instructions to the exigencies of times and the necessities of his country. Had we no other proof of this, the great and dig nified part which he sustained in the American revo lution, one of the most important events recorded among the annals of mankind, would alone have been sufficient to immortalize his name; but when we take into the account his previous labours for half a cen tury, to illuminate the minds of his fellow- citi zens, to prepare them for the mighty event, to nurse them into greatness by the arts of industry and virtue, to shew them the happiness which lay within their reach, to teach them to dare, and to bear, and to improve success — this accumulation of services has woven for his head a diadem of such beauty, as scarcely ever adorned the brow of either ancient or modern worthy. In the earliest stages of life, he had conceived the mighty idea of American erripire' and glory ; but hke 52 ORATION II. Hercules in the cradle, he was ignorant of his own strength, and had not conceived the achievements and labours which awaited him. He had not conceived that he was, one day, to contend with kings and po tentates for the rights of his country; to extort from them an acknowledgment of its sovereignty; ahd to subscribe with his name the sacred instruments* which were to give it a pre-eminent rank among the nations ofthe earth, and to assure its Uberty and inde pendence to the latest ages ! He was content in his humble, but honourable, station of an useful private citizen, to cherish in his own bosom, and in distant view, the idea of American greatness; and he cherished those also m whom he discovered ideas congenial to his own ! Here I can speak from grateful experience. An essay of mine, in early youth, anticipatingthat bright tsra which has now commenced, when arts and science, religion and liberty, all that can adorn or exalt human nature, are -diffusing themselves over this immense continent, which fell into his hands near forty years ago, first procured me that place in his esteem, that familiarity of conversation, and connexion with him, both in public and private life, which will enable me to pro- ceed, with some advantage, to the remaining part of my duty, however unqualified in other respects. That duty would lead me more immediately to contemplate him as a philosopher, the founder oithvA. • The declaration of American independence, by the congress ofthe United States, the treaties of amity and commerce, and of alliance with France; the definitive treaty of peace with Great-Britain, acknowledging the ir.dependencc of Amevica, &c. ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 53 society, by whose appointment I stand here, and the venerable conductor of our labours, through a long series of years, in " the promotion of useful know ledge." But as we are honoured, on this occasion, with the presence of the most illustrious public bo dies, as well as the most respectable private citizens, who, having been alike benefitted by his services, are alike interested in his memory, I shall consider him in three distinct relations: 1st. As a Citizen of Pennsylvania, eminent in her councils, the founder and patron of most of those useful institutions which do honour to her name. 2d. As a Citizen of America, one ofthe chief and greatest workmen, in the foundation and establish ment of her empire and renown. 3d. As a Citizen of the World, by tlie invention of useful arts, and the diffusion of liberal science, in cessantly and successfully labouring for the happiness of the whole human race. As the respect due to the public bodies, which compose such an illustrious part of this assembly, forbids me to trespass too long upon their precious time, I -must forbear entering upon a full detail of the life and actions of this great man, in those several re- /lations; and shall, therefore, touch but briefly on such parts of his character, as are either generally known in America, or have been already detailed by his numer ous panegyrists, both at home and abroad. Virtus vera Nobilitas, was an adage Vi'ith which he was well pleased. He considered a descent from any of tlie virtuous peasantry and a enerablc yeomanry 54 ORATION IL of America, who first subdued the sturdy oaks of our forests, and assisted to introduce culture and civiliza tion into a once untutored land, as having more true nobility in it, than a pedigree which might be traced through the longest line "of those commonly called great and noble in this world. Descended from parents, who first settled in America above an hundred years ago*; he was born at Boston, in January, 1706. The account of his education, which was such only as the common schools of that day afforded, the various incidents of his younger years, and the different occupations and professions for which his parents seemed to have in tended him, before he was apprenticed to his brother, in the printing business, at the age of 12 years, al though recorded by himself, and full of instruction, I shall leave wholly to his biographers, till his arrival at Philadelphia, about the 18th year of his age; to which city he came from the city of New- York, partly by water, and partly by land on foot, his stock of clothes and cash at a vary low ebb, to seek for employment as a journeyman-printerf . But by in- • His father Josiah Franklin, settled in New-England in 1682, and his mother, AbiahFolger, was the daughter of Peter Folger, of Nantucket one of the first settlers of that country. f Theaccount of his arrival at Philadelphia, as draW:n up by the accurate and elegant Compilers of his life in that valuable work, the Universal Asy lum and Columbian Magazine, published by William Young, in Fhiladelphiii, is as follows " After a passage of three days, he arrived from Boston at New-York, and immediately applied to WiUiam Bradford, the printer of that place, (who was the first printer in Pennsylvania) who couhi give Ijim no employment, but advifed him to go to Philadelphia, to his son An drew Bradford. From New- York to Philadelphia Franklin travelled, partly i>y water, and fifty miles by laild on foBt, through rain and dirt, suspected ON Dr. FRANKLIN 55 dustry and the application of his great natural talents to business, he soon was enabled to procure a press, and to stand upon his own footing. This account of his low beginnings, it is hoped, will not scandalize any of his respectable fraternity. No, Gentlemen*; but you will exult in it when you consider to what eminence he raised himself, and raised his country, by the right use of the press. When you consider that the Press was the great in strument which he employed to draw the attention of Pefinsylv ani a to habits of virtue and industry; to the institution of societies for the promotion of agriculture, commerce, and the mechanic arts; to the founding of schools, libraries, and hospitals, for the diffusion of useful knowledge, and the advance ment of humanity— when you consider this, you will " go and do likewise;" you will, with profes sional joy and pr jde, observe, that from the torch which Franklin kindled by the means of his press, in the New World, " Sparks have been already " stolen" (as the Abbe Fauchet beautifully expresses it) " which are lighting up the sacred flame of liberty^ ^' (virtue and wisdom) over the entire face of the *' globe." Be it your part i^till lo feed that torch by and in danger of being taken into custody, as a runaway servant. On a Sunday morning, between 8 and 9 o'clock, he landed at market-street wharf, in a Very dirty condition, in the clothes in which he had travelled from New-York, weary and hungry, having been without rest and food for sometime, a perfect stranger to every body, and his whole stock of cash consisting of a Dutch dollar. Such was the entry of Benjamin Franklin into Philadelphia. From such^Jeginnings did he rise to the highest eminence and respectability, not only in Amfvica, but apongst all civilized nations, • This part was more immediately addressed to the printers of Phila delphia, Who attended as a body, at the delivery of this oration. 56 ORATION IL means of the press, till its divine flame rfeaches the skies! For the purpose of aiding his press, and increas ing the .materials of information, one ofthe first socie ties formed by Dr. Franklin, was in the year 1728, about the 22d of his age, and was called the Junto. It consisted ofa select number of his younger friends, who met weekly for the " Discussion of questions in morality, politics, and natural philosophy." The number was limited to twelve members, who were bound together in all the ties of friendship, and en gaged to assist each other, not only in the mutual communication of knowledge, but in all their worldly undertakings. This society, after having subsisted forty years, and having contributed to the formation of some very great men, besides Dr. Franklin himself, became at last the foundation of the American Philo sophical Society, now assembled to pay the debt of gra titude to his memory. A book containing many of the questions discussed by the Junto was, on the for mation ofthe American Philosophical Society, deliver ed into my hands, for the purpose of being digested, and in due time published among the transactions of that body. Many of the questions are curious and curiously handled; such as the following:* Is sotmd an entity or body ? How may the phsenomena of vapors be exjjlained? Is i|glf-interest the rudder that steers mankind; the universal monarch to whoni all are ti'ibutaries ? Which is the best form of'goveniment, and what was tl^t form which first prevailed among mankind ? ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 57 Can any one particular form of government suit all mankind? ,; What is the reason that the tides rise higher in the bay of Fundy than in the bay of Delaware? Is the emission of papel" money safe ? What is the reason that men ofthe greatest know ledge are not the most happy ? How may the possession ofthe lakes be improved to our advantage? Why are tumultuous, uneasy sensations united with our desires? Whether it ought to be tl}e aim of philosophy to eradicate the passions? How may smoaky chimniesbe best cured? Why does the flame of a candle tend upwards in a spire ? Which is least criminal, a bad action joined with a good intention, or a ^oc?c/' action with a bad inten tion? Is it consistent with the principles of liberty in a free government, to punish a man as a libeller, when he speaks the truth? These, and such similar questions of a very mixt nature, being proposed in one evening, were generally discussed the succeeding evening, and the substance of the arguments entered in their books. But Dr. Franklin did not rest satisfied with the institution of this literary club for the improvement of hiinself and a few of his select friends. He pro ceeded year after year, in the projecting and establish ing other institutions for the benefit ofthe community at large. vox. I. H 4 i^ ORATION II. Thus, in 1731, he set on foot the " Library com pany of the city of Philadelphia," a most important institution to all raniks of people; giving tliejn access, at a small expense, to books on every usefo^ subject; amounting in the whole to near ten thousand volumes and the number daily encreasing. The affairs of the coiifipany have been managed from the beginning by directors ofthe mpst respectable characters. Their estate is now of very considerable value; they have erected an elegant house, and over the front door of the building, have prepared a niche for the statue of their venerable founder; who, after the establishment of this company, still proceeded to promote other establishments and associations, such as fire-com panies; the nightly-watch for the city of Philadelphia; a plan for cleaning, lighting and ornamenting the streets; and an association for insuring houses against damages by fire ; to which, as collateral, he soon af terwards added his plan for improving chimnies and ^re places, which was first printed at Philadelphia in 1745, entitled " -^n account of the new invented Pennsylvania fire places;" which gave rise tp the open §tpvcs now ill general use, to the comfort pf thou sands,, who, assembled round them in the \yintry nightVbless the name pf the inventor which they yet bear! The next institution, in the foundation of which he was the principal agent, was the academy and charitable school of the city of Philadelphia; the plan of which he drew up and published intire year 1749, as " suitable tp the state of an infant country:" but ON Or. FRANKLIN. 59 looking forward, as he did in all his plans, to a more improved state of society, he declared this acaderny to be " intended as 2l foundation for posterity to erect into a college or seminai-y of learning more extensive, and suitable to future circunistances;" and the satn6 ¦W'as accordingly erected into a college, or seminarj^ erf universal learning, upon tke most enlarged and liberal plan^ about five years afterwards.* The Pennsylvania Hospital is the next mohument of his philanthropy and public spirit; for the establish ment and endowrhent of which, he was happily instru- irieritalin obtaining a legislative sanction and grant, by his great influence in the general assembly, in the year 1752. These various institutions, -which do so much hpnour to Pennsylvania, he prbjected and saw estab lished during the first twenty years of his residence in this state. Many more must have been his good pffices arid actibns aniiong his friends and fellow" citi zens during that period. Which vs^ere done in secret, and of v«fhich no record remains : but they went before^ him to another world, and are written in durable cha-' racters by the pen of the recording Angel. A life so assiduously employed in devising and executing scheines for the public good, could not fail to aid him in his political career. He first became clerk of the general assembly, and then a member of the same for the city of Philadelphia, for the space, oT fourteen years successively. •,It win be mentioned in another place, what countenance and assist ance the authbr of this oratfion derived from Dr Franklin in digesting the plan of education, and erecting this institution into a college or semin ary of universal learning. 6© ORATION II. In 1744, a Spanish privateer, having entered the bay of Delaware, ascended as high as New-Castle to the great terror of the citizens of Philadelphia. On occasion of this alarm, he wrote his first political pamphlet called Plain Truth, to exhort his fellow ci tizens to the bearing of arms; which laid the founda tion of those military associations which fbllowed, at different times, for the defence of the country. His popularity was now great among all parties and denominations of men. But the unhappy divi sions and disputes which commenced in the provin cial politics of Pennsylvania, in the year 1754 obliged him soon afterwards to chuse his party. He manag ed his vveapons like a veteran combatant; nor was he opposed with unequal strength or skill. The debates of that day have been read and admired as among the most masterly compositions of the kind, which our language affords; but it is happy for Us, at the present day, that the subject of thetn is no longer interesting; and if it were, he who now addresses you was too much an actor in the scene to be fit for the discussion of it. Dr. Franklin, by the appointment of the ,; general assembly, quitted the immediate field of con troversy, arid in June 1757, eiiibarked for England, to contest his point at the court of Great-Britain, where he continued for several years with various success in the business of his agency. In the sum mer of 1762, he returned to America; but the disputes which had so long agitated the province, far from be ing quieted by his former mission, continued to rage with greater violence tlian ever, and he was again ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 61 appointed by the assembly to resume his agency at the court of Great-Britain. Much opposition was made to his re-appoiritment; which seems greatly to have affected his feelings ; as it came from men with whom he had long been connected both in public arid private life, " the very ashes of whose former friend ship," he declared, "that he revered." His pathetic farewell to Pennsylvania on the 5th of November, 1764, the day before his departure, is a_ strong proof ofthe agitation of his mind on this occasion. " I am now," says he, " to take leave (perhaps'a last leave) ofthe country I love, and in which I have spent the greatest part of my life. Esto perpetua! I wish every kind of prosperity to my friends, and I forgive my enemies,'^ But under whatsoever circumstances this second embassy was undertaken, it appears to have been a measure pre-ordained in the councils of Heaven ; and it will be forever remembered, to the honour of Penn sylvania, that the agent selected to assert and defend. the rights of a single province, at the court of Great- Britain, became the bold asserter of the rights of America in general; " and, beholding the fetters that -were forging for her, conceived the magnanimous thought of rending them asunder before, they could be rivetted*." And this brings us to consider him, in a more enlarged view, viz. Secondly — As a citizen of America, one of the chief and greatest workmen in the foundation and ©stablisliment of her empire and, renown. Abbe Fauchet. 62 ORATION IL Butori this head little need.be said on the pres'eiit occasion. The subject- has been already exhausted by his eulogists, even in distant countries. His op- ppsitipft to the stamp-act, his noble defence of the liberties of Atrierica, at the bar of parliament, arid his great services, both at home and abroad, dtiring the" revolution, are too well known tb need further men tion in this assembly, or in the presence of so many of his compatriots arid fellow labourers in the great work. I hasten, therefore, to consider him in anothei' illustrious point of view, viz. Thirdly-— As a Citizen of the Avorld — stfccessfully labouring for the benefit of the Whcile human race, by the diffusion of liberal science and the invention of useful arts. Endowed with a penetrating and inquisitive genius, speculative and philosophical subjects en gaged his early attention; btit he loved them only as they were useful, and pursued them no farther than as he found his researches applicable to some substantiEtl purpose iri life. His stock of knowledge and the fruits of his investigations, he never hoarded up for his own private use. Whatever he discovered — whatever he considered as beneficial to mankind — ftesh as it was conceived, or brought forth in his own mind, he communicated to his fellow-citizens, by means of his news-papers and almanacs, in delicate arid palSatable inorsels, for the advancement of indus try, frugality and other republican virtues; and, at a future day, as occasion might require, he wojild' collect and digest the parts, and set out the whole ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 63 into pne rich feast of useful maxims and practical wisdom. Of this kind is his celebrated address, entitled '•'•The Way to Wealth^'' which is a collection or digest of the\ various sentences, proverbs and wise maxims, which, during a course of many years, he had occa- sipnally published, in his Poor. Richard'' s Almanac, on topics of industry, frugality, and the duty of minding one^s own business. Had he never written any thing more than this admirable address, it would have ensured him immortality as — The Farmer's Philosopher, the Rural Sage, the Yeoman's and Pea- sanfs Oracle. But greater things lay before him! Although as a philosopher, as well as a politician, he remained un conscious of the plenitude of his own strength and talents, until called into further exertions by the magnitude of future objects. and occasions. There is something worthy pf observation in the prpgress of science and human genius. As in the natural world there is a variety and succession of seeds and crops for different soils and seasons; so (if the comparison* may be allowed) in the philosophical world, there have been different asras for seed-time and harvest of the different branches of arts and sciences; and it is remarkable that, in countries far distant froin each other, different men have fallen into the s^xfxe tracks of science, and have made simi lar and correspondent discoveries, at the same period * " Grant but as many kinds of mind, as moss."— — POPE. 64 ORATION IL of time, without the least communication with each other. Whether it be that, at the proper season of vegetation for those different branches, there be a kind of intellectual or mental farina disseminated, which falling on congenial spirits in different parts of the globe, take root at the same time, and spring to a greater or less degree of perfection, according to the richness of the soil and the aptitude of the season? From the beginning of the year 1746, till about twenty years afterwards, was the sera of electricity, as no other branch of natural philosophy was so much cultivated during that period. In America, and in the mind of Franklin, it found a rich bed: the seed took root and sprung into a great tree, before he knew that similar seeds had vegetated, or risen to any height in other parts of the world. Before that period, philosophers amused them selves only with the smaller phsenomena of electricity ; such as relate to the attraction of light bodies; the distances to which such attraction would extend; the luminous appearances produced by the excited glass tube; and the firing spirits and inflammable air by electricity. Little more was known on the subject, than Thales had discovered 2000 years before; that certain bodies, such as amber and glass had this at tractive qtiality. Our most indefatigable searchers into nature, who in other branches seemed to have explored her profoundest depths, were content with what was known in former ages of electricity, witii- out advancing any thing new of their own. Suffi- ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 65 cient data and experiments were wanting to reduce the doctrine and phsenomena of electricity into any rules or system; and to apply them to any beneficial purposes in life. This great achievement, which had eluded the industry and abilities of a Boyle and a Newton, was reserved for a Franklin. With that diligence, ingenuity, and strength of judgment, fer which he was distinguished in all his undertakings, he commenced his experiments and discoveries in the latter part ofthe year 1746; led thereto, as he tells us, by following the directions of his friend, Peter Collin- son of London, in the use of an electric-ttibe, which that benevolent philosopher had presented to the library company of Philadelphia. The assiduity with which he prosecuted his investigations, appears from his first letter to Mr. Collinson, of March 28th, 1747. " For my own part, says he, I never was before engaged in any study that so totally engrossed my attention and my time, as this has lately done. For, what with inaking experiments, when I can be alone, and repeating them to my friends and acquaintance, Tvho, from the novelty of the thing, come continually in crouds to see them, I have for some months past had leisure for little else." He had a delight in com municating his discoveries to his friends; and such was his manner of communication, with that winning modesty, that he appeared rather seeking to acquire information himseff than to give it to others; which gave him a great advantage in his way of reasoning over those who followed a more dogmatic manner. " Possibly," he would say, " these experinlents may not be new to you, as, among the numbers daily VOL. I. I 4 66 ORATION IL employed in such observations on your side the water, it is probable some one or other has hit on them before." From the beginning to the end of his life, he observed the same modest and cautious method of communication. The first philosophical paper insert ed in his collection, in 1756, is entitled " Physical and Meteorological Observations, Conjectures and Suppositions;" and his last at Passy, in 1784, are of a similar title, viz. " Meteorological Imaginations and Conjectures. Loose Thoughts on an Universal Fluid," and the like. But I return to the account of his eletrical labours, and the materials on which they were grounded. yon Kliest, about the latter end of the year 1745, had accidentally discovered some of the powers and properties of what is called the Leyden-phial, and sent an account ofthe same to Lieberkhun at Berlin, which soon made this branch of science more interesting. As soon as the account of this discovery reached America, (together with Mr. Collinson's tube) it ex cited no less curiosity here, than it had done in Eurppe; and Dr. Frankhn writes to his friend <7o//m- son in September, 1747, " that no less than one hun dred large glass tubes had been sold in Philadelphia, in the space of four months preceding." But al though Fon Kliest had discovered some properties of this phial, and Muschenbroek, to his cost, had experi enced others (by which the phial, or bottle received his name) it remained for Dr. Franklin to discover its true principles, and how, by means of it, to accumulate, retain, and discharge any quantity ofthe electric fluid, with safety. The account of this dis covery and of the experiments on which it was ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 6? founded, he communicated to Mr. Collinson, in his letter pf September 1, 1747, with his usual caution and modesty, in the following terms. " The necessary trouble of copying long letters, which, perhaps, when they come to your hands may contain nothing new, or worth your reading (so quick is the progress made with you in electricity) half discourages me from writing more on that subject. Yet I cannot forbear adding a few observations on M. Muschenbroek^ s wonderful bottle." In this letter, he discloses the whole magical powers of this bottle; by proving that it would receive an accumulation of the electric fluid on the inside, only as it discharged an equal quantity from the outside. This discovery gave him the greatest advantages over all the electri cians of Europe. It piit into his hands (as it were) the key which opened into all the secrets of electri city, and enabled him to make his succeeding experiments, with a sure aim, while his brethren in Europe were groping in the dark, and some of them falling martyrs to their experiments. He was the first who fired gun-powder, gave mag netism to needles of steel, melted metals, and killed animals of considerable size, by means of electricity. He was the first who informed electricians;, and the world iri general, of the power of matalline-points, in conducting the electric fluid; acknowledging at the same time, with a candour worthy of true philosophy, that he received the first information of this power fi-om Mr. Thomas Hopkinson*, who had used such • " This power of points, to throw off the electrical fire, was first commu nicated to me by roy ingenious friend, Mr. Thomas Hopkiiisoh, ilttte 68 ORATION II. points, expecting by their means to procure a more powerful and concentrated discharge of the Leyden- phial ; but found the effect to be directly contrary. It was, undoubtedly, the discovery of this wonderfiil power of metalline-points, in carrying off and silently' dispersing the electric-fluid when accumulated, and the sJKiilarity and resemblance which he observed between the effects of lightning and electricity, which first suggested to him the sublime and astonishing idea of draining the clouds of their^?-^, and disarm ing the thunder of its terrors; flattering himself at the same time with the pleasing hopes of gratifying a desire, long before become hahitual to him, of ren dering this discovery in some manner useful and be neficial to his fellow-creatures. This appears by hia notes of November 7, 1749, when enumerating all the known particulars of resemblance between light ning and electricity, he concludes with saying — " The electric fluid is attracted by points. We do not know whether this property be in lightning; but since they agree in all the particulars in which we can already compare them, it is possible that they agree likewise in this: Let the experiment be made.''^ Difficulties, without doubt, occurred in making this experiment, both as to the manner and least expensive way of reaching the clouds with his points; for we do not find that he accoraplished his grand experiment, till in June 1752, In a letter to his friend Collinson, not dated, but probably written in 1749, he commti- deceased; whose virtue and integrity, in every station of life, public anA private, will ever make his memory dear to those who knew, him, jinil knew how to value hira.'' ON Dr. franklin. 69 nicateshis " Observations and suppositions towards forming a new hypothesis, for explaining the several phsenomena of thunder-gusts;" which was followed in July, 1750, by another letter to the same, contain ing " opinions and conjectures concerning the pro perties and effects of the electric matter," and giving particular directions for determining whether clouds containing lightning are electrified or not; for ascer taining of which, his idea at this time was, " the placing a pointed iron-rod on some high tower or steeple, and attempting to draw sparks from it," there being at that time no lofty spires in Philadelphia. But his ever-inventive genius, which could derive lessons of philosophy even from the play of children, soon furnished him with a more simple and less ex pensive method: For in June 1752, he took the op portunity of an approaching thunder-storm, to walk into a field, where there was a shed convenient for his purpose. Dreading the ridicule which too com monly attends unsuccessful attempts in science, he communicated his intended experiment to no person but his son, who assisted him in raising a kite, which he had prepared of a large silk handkerchief, ex tended by two cross-sticks. After waiting for some time, and almost beginning to despair of success, he drew the first spark with his knuckle from a key sus pended to the string of the kite. Another and ano ther succeeded; and as the string becarae wet, he collected fire copiously. What must have been his raptures on the success of this grand experiment; leading him to anticipate that happy and beneficent application of the principles of electricity, to the sav- 70 oration il ing of life and property, which alone would have re- Corded his name amorig the benefactors of mankind; even if his discoveries of those principles could ne ver have been extended or applied to any other use ful purpose in the world. Similar must his raptures have been to those of a Newton, when by applying the laws of gravitation and projection first to the moon, he was enabled to extend them to the whole Solar- system, as is beautifully described by the poet What -were his raptures then ! ho-w pure ! ho-w strong ! And -what the triumphs of old Greece and Rome With his cortipar'd When Nature and her laws Stood all subdued by Him, and open laid Their every latent Glory to his view. All intellectual Eye ; our Solar round First gazing thro', he by the blended Po-wer Of Graiiitation and Projection saw The whole in silent Harmony revolve. First to the neighb'ring Moon this mighty Key Of Nature he applied — ^Behold ! it turn'd The secret wards ; it open'd wide the course And various aspects of the Queen of Night ; Whether she wanes into a scanty Orb Or, waxing broad, with her pale shadowy Light, In a soft Deluge overflows the Sky*. Dr. Franklin's Letters, giving an account of his electrical experiments and discoveries, and, among the rest, of this grand experiment of drawing electri city from the clouds, were soon published in Europe, and translated into different languages. '? Nothing " was ever written on the subject of electricity;," " Thomsofl's poem to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton. on Dr. FRANKLIN; 71 says t)r. Priestly, " which was more generally read " and admired in all parts of Europe, than those Let- " ters. Electricans every where employed them- " selves in repeating his experiments, or exhibiting " them for money. All the world, in a manner, and " even kings themselves, flocked to see them, and all " returned full of admiration for the inventor of " them." Amidst this general admiration. Dr. Franklin him self continued to communicate his knowledge and dis coveries under the humble appellation of conjectures or guesses : But no man ever made bolder or happier guesses, either in philosophy or politicks: He was likewise a bold experimenter in both. He had by accident received a discharge of two of his large electrical jars through his head, which struck him to the ground, but did him no lasting injury. He had likewise seen a young woman receive a still greater shock or discharge of electricity through her head, which she had inadvertently brought too near the conductor, which knocked her down; but she in stantly got up, and complained of nothing further. This encouraged him to make the experiinent on six men at the same time, the first placing his hand on the head of the second, and so on. He thea discharged his two jars, by laying his conducting rod on the head of the first man. They all dropt ^gether; thinking they had been struck down, as it were, by some kind of magic, or secret operation of nature; declaring when they rose that they had neither seen the flash, nor heard the report of any discharge. 72 ORATION II. For his manner of delivering his philosophical opinions, under the humble appellation of conjectures and suppositions, he makes the following apology, more humble still. " I own (says he, in one of hi? letters) that I have too strong a penchant to building hypotheses: They indulge my natural indolence." But indolence was no part of his character; and his success in this method of philosophizing will rescue it from much of the reproach which has been too li berally cast upon it. Without forming hypotheses, experimental philosophy, would only be a jumble of facts, ranged under no heads, nor disposed into any system. Dr. Franklin, without troubling himself with mathematical s^ecnlAtions, or shewing any in clination towards them, nevertheless reasoned with all the accuracy and precision of the deepest mathe matician. And although he might be sometimes mistaken where the truth could be developed only by the help of pure mathematics, yet he was rarely mis taken in his mechanical snd. philosophical dedvLCtiaas. Being on ship-board in the year 1757, an acci dent gave him occasion to observe the wonderful effect of oil, in stilling the waves of the sea. He im mediately determined to make experiments to eluci date this new property of oil, which he did with success; and the philosophical world is indebted to him for being now fully acquainted with a fact, which, although not unknown to Plutarch and Pliny, w^s for ages past known only among the Dutch fisher men, and a few seamen of other nations. His inquiries and discoveries were confined to no limits or subjects. Through all the element^: In ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 73 die fire and in ihe water, in the air, and in the earth, he sought for and he found new and beneficial know ledge. He^scoveredthat unaccountable agitation of the two surfaces in contact, when a quantity of ot7 floats on water in a vessel. He found the pulse-glass in Germany, and in troduced it into England, with improvements of his own. He discovered that equal and congenial bodies ac quired diflerent degrees of heat from the sun's rays, according to their different colours. His improvements in chimnies, stoves, he have been already noticed. He made experiments to shew, that boats aredrawa ¦with more difficulty in small canals, than in greater bodies of water. He made and published experiments for improv ing the art of swimming, and for allaying durst by bathing in sea- water. He published obser^'ations on the gradual progress of north-east storms along the American coasts, contrary to the direction of the wind; and likewise to ascertain the course, velocity, and temperature of die Gulf-stream*, for the benefit of navigation. He coutrK'ed experiments, and recommended tiiem to the late Dr. Inggohauz, for determining the * Dr. Franklin was l^ first wko gave particular attention to the Gulf- stream, ^ts course, veJocity, and temperataie, fer the benefit of navigation en the coasts of ICorth .\meric;.-i. This has been ascribed to Dr. Bladen; but be did not publish his observations untii ITSl. Di-. Franklin publish ed bis chart in 1768. VOL. I- K 4 74 ORATION IL relative powers of diierent metals forconductiftglteat, which were accordingly made. He revived and improved the harmonica, or gla«- sichord, and extended his speculations to the finer arts; shewing that he could taste and criticise even the compositions of a Handel! He left behind him some very curious thoughts and conjectures concerning " an universal fluid; the original formation of the earth; and how far, from attentive observations made during the summer, it may be possible to foretel the mildness or severity of the following winter." These were the fruits of some of his leisure hours at Passy, during hisi minis try at the court of France, where his time in general was devoted, with the greatest dignity, and the most splendid success, to the political objects of his mis sion. That success was much promcrted by the high reputation which he sustained, as & patriot and philo sopher, among the patriots and philosophers of a generous and enlightened nation. Of this the fullest testimony is to be found in the letters of condolence on his death*, from the national assembly of that coun try, to the President and Congress of the United States; and the public mourning decreed on that oc casion — an honour, perhaps the first ofthe kind which has ever been paid by a public body of one nation to a citizen of another. But all nations considered * The Duke de la Rochefoucault made him acquainted with the cele brated Turgot who wrote the memorable motto under his portrait — Fripnit Ccglo fulmen, mox sceptra Tyrannis. ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 75 themselves as being interested in him, and the ho mage was therefore more justly due to his manes and his name ! And here I connot suppress another tes timony of the reneration and esteem, in which his character was held by all ranks of people in France; as I have received it in a letter from his illustrious successor* in the ministry to that nation. " I feel, says he, both the wish and the duty to communicate, in compliance with your request, ¦whatever, within my knowledge, might render justice to the memory of our great countryman Dr. Franks Un; in whom philosophy has to deplore one of its principal luminaries extingtiished. But my oppor tunities of knowing the interesting facts of his life have not been equal to ray desire of making them known. " I can only, therefore, testify in general, that there appeared to me more respect and veneration at tached to the character of Dr. Franklin in France, than to that of any other person in the same country, foreign or native. I had opportunities of knowing particularly how far these sentiments were felt, by the foreign ambassadors and ministers at the court of Versailles. The fable of his capture by the Algerines, propagated by the English news-papers, excited no uneasiness, as it was seen at once to be a dish cooked up to please certain readers ; but nothing could exceed the anxiety of his diplomatic brethren on a subse quent report of his deatih, which, although premature bore sqme marks of authenticity. • Mr. Jeffenen. 76 ORATION II. '''¦ 1 found the ministers of France equally impress ed with his talents and integrity. The count dc Vergennes, particularly, gave me repeated and un equivocal demonstrations of his entire confidence in him. " When he left Passy, it seemed as if the village had lost its patriarch. On taking leave ofthe court, which he did by letter, the king ordered him to be handsomely complimented, and furriished him with a litter, and mules of his owri, the only kind of con veyance the state of his health could bear. " The succession to Dr. Franklin, at the cpurt of France, was an excellent school of humility to me. On being presented to any one, as the minister of America, the common-place question was " c'est vous. Monsieur, qui remplacez le Docteur Frank lin?" — it is you. Sir, who replace Doctor Franklin! I generally answered-^" No one can replace him. Sir; I arii only his successor.'''' * " I could here relate a number ofthose bons mots, with which he was used to charm every society, aa having heard many of them; but these are not your object. Particulars of greater dignity happened not to occur, during his stay of nine months after my ar rival in France. " A little before that time, Argand had invented his celebrated lamp, in which the flame is spread in to a hollow cylinder, and thus brought into contact with the air, within as well as without. Dr. Frank lin had been on the point ofthe same discovery. The idea had occurred to him; but he had tried a bull-rush as a wick, which did not succeed. His occupations ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 77 did not permit him to repeat and extend his trials to the introduction of a larger coluirin of air, than could pass through the stem of a bull-rush. " About that time, also, the king of France gave him a signal testimony of respect, by joining him with some of the most illustrious men of the nation, to examine that ignis fatuus of philosophy, the animal magnetism ofthe maniac, Mesmer; the pre tended effects of which had astonished all Paris. By Dr. Franklin's hand, in conjunction with his brethren of the learned committee, that compound of fraud and folly was unveiled, and received its death wound. After this nothing very interesting was before the public, either in philosophy or politics, during hisi! stay; and he was principally occupied in winding up his affairs, and preparing for his return to America. "These small offerings to the memory of our great and dear friend, (whom time W^ill be making still greater, while it is sptinging us from its records) must be accepted by you, Sir, in that spirit of love and veneration for him, in which they are made; and not according to their insignificancy in tbe eyes of a world, which did not want this mite tq fill up the mea sure of his worth. " His death was an'aflliction which was to hap pen to us at sometime or, other. We have reason to be thankful he was so long spared; that the most useful life should be the longest also; that it was pro tracted so far beyond the ordinary span allotted to humanity, as to avail us of his wisdom and virtue in the establishment of onr freedom in the west; and to bless him with a view of its dawn in the east, v^ here 78 ORATION II. men seemed till now to have learned e'Very thing-—- but how to be free. ''^ Dr. Franklin, having taken leave of the court of France, left Passy ori the 12th of July, and arrived at Philadelphia, the 13th of September, 1785, where he was welcomed with joy by his fellow-citizens of all classes; and, in testimony of their heart-felt sense of his eminent virtues and past services, he was unanimously elected by them to the government of the commonwealth, for the three succeeding years ; being the longest term which the constitution of Pennsylvania then allowed. During that term, he was also appointed a member of the general convention, for forming and establishing a constitution for the United States of America; and on the 18th of Sep tember, 1787, that illustrious body having concluded their labours. Dr. Franklin, in conjunction with his colleagues of Pennsylvania, presented the result ofthe same, to the speaker and house of representatives, with the following short address— " Sir, " I have the very great satisfaction of delivering to you and to this honourable house, the result of our deliberations in the late convention. We hope and be- lievethat themeasures recommended by thatbody,will produce happy effects to this commonwealth, as well as to every other of the United State Si," He then presented, at the speaker's chair, the constitution, agreed to in convention, for the government of the United States. The remainder of his term of ofiice ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 79 in the government, he devoted to the wise and pru* dent administration of its duties ; so far as the grow ing infirmities of his years, and the painful disorder with which he had been long afflicted, would permit. During the most excruciating paroxysms of that dis. order, he strove to conceal his pain, that he might not give pain to those around him; and he would often say, that he felt the greatest alleviation of his own pains, in the occasions which were offered him of do ing good to others; and which he never neglected to the latest moments of his life. One of the last public acts in which he was con cerned, was to sanction with his name the memoria presented to the general government of the United States, on the subject of the slave trade, by the " Pennsylvania society for promoting the abolition of slavery, and the relief of free Negroes, unlawfully held in bondage." Of this society, he was president; and the institution and design of it could not but be congenial to thei sotil ofa man, whose life and labours had been devoted to the cause of Uberty, for more than half a century; ardently striving to extend its blessings to every part ofthe human species, and par ticularly to such of his fellow creatures, as, being entitled to freedom, are nevertheless, injuriously en slaved, or detained in bondage, by fraud or violence. It was not his desire, however, to propagate lir berty by the violation of public justice or private rights; nor to countenance the operation of principles or tenets among any class or association of citizens, inconsistent with, or repugnant to, the civil compact, which should unite and bind the whole; but he looked 80 ORATION II. forward to that tera of civilized humanity, when^ in consistence with the constitution of the United States, it may be hoped, there shall not be a., slave within their jurisdiction or territory! Nay, he looked more forward Still, to the time when there shaU not be a slave, hor a savage, -within the whole regions of Ame rica. He believed that this sublime seta had already dawned, and was approaching fast tp its meridian glory; for he believed in Divine Revelation, and the beautiful analogy of history, sacred as well as pro fane! He believed that human knowledge, however improved and exalted, stood in need of illumination from on high; and that the Divine Creator has not left mankind without such illumination, and evidence of himself, both internal and external, as may be ne cessary to their present and future happiness. If I could not speak this from full and experimen tal knowledge of his character, I should have consi dered all the other parts of it, however splendid and beneficial to the world, as furnishing but scanty ma* terials for the present eulogium. " An imdcvont p/iilosopher is mad!" Voung. The man w'hp can tliink so meanly of his own soul, as to believe that it was created to animate a piece of clay, for a few years, and then to be extin guished and exist no more, can never be a great man! But Franklin felt and believed himself immortal! His vast and capacious soul was ever stretching bC' yond this narrow , sphere of things, and grasping an eternity! Hear himself, " although dead, yet speak ing" on this awfully delightful subject ! Behold here, in his own hand- writing, the indubitable testimonyl ON Dr. FRANKLIN. 81 In this Temple of God, arid before this august as sembly, I read the contents, and consecrate^the pre cious relick to his memory ! It is his letter of condo lence to his niece, on the death of his Brother; and may be applied as a fit conclusion of our present condo lences on his oxvn death *' We have lost a most dear and Valuable relation (and friend)— But, 'tis the will of God that these mortal bodies be laid aside whenr tiie soul is to enter into real life. Existing here is scarce to be called life; it is rather an embryo-state, a preparative to liv ing; and man is not completely born till he is dead. Why, then, should we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals, a new member added to their happy society? "We are spirits! — That bodies should be lent while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquir ing knowledge, or doing good to our fellow creatures; is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for these purposes, and afford us pain instead of pleasure, instead of an aid become an in cumbrance, and answer none of the intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and. bene- ¦volent that a way is provided, by which we may get rid of them — ^Deathisthat way : we ourselves prudently chuse a partial death, in some cases. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely, since the pain goes with it; and he that quits the" whole body, parts at o^ce with all the pains, and possibilities of pains and pleasures, it was liable to, or capable of making hira suffer. VOL. I, 1 4 82 ORATION II. " Our friend and we are invited abroad on a party of pleasure, that is to last forever. His chair was first ready, and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together; and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and we know where to find him." Yes, thou dear departed friend and fellow-citizen! Thou, too, art gone before us — ^thy chair, thy celestial car, was first ready! We must soon follow, and we know where to fmd thee! May we seek to follow thee by lives of virtue and benevolence like thine — then shall we surely find thee — and part with ih.ee no more, forever ! Let all thy fellow-citizens ; let all thy compatriots ; let every class.of men with whom thou wert associated here on earth^ — in devising plans of government, in framing and executing good laws, in disseminating useful knowledge, in alleviating human misery, and in promoting the happiness of mankind — ^let them consider thee as their guardian-genius, still present and presiding amongst them; and what they conceive thou wotildst advise to be done, let them adyise and do likewise — and they shall not greatiy deviate from the path of virtue and glory ! APPENDIX. SOME PAPERS REFERRED TO IN THE FOREGOING EULOGIUM. ^ No. 1. ENDORSED IN DR. Franklin's hand, as follows, viz. Letter to Abbe Soulavie, occasioned by his sending me some Motes he had taken of what I had said to him in conversation on the theory qf the Earth. I ivrote it to set him right in some points tvhereirt he had mistaken my meaning. PASSY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1782. SIR, i, I RETURN the papers with some corrections* 1 did not find coal mines under the calcareous rock in DerbysHire. I only remarked, that at the lowest part of that rocky mountain, which, was in sight, there were oyster shells mixed with the stone ; and part of the high county of Derby being probably as much above the level of the sea, as the coal mines of Whitehaven were below, it seemed a proof that there had been a great Bouleversement in the surface of that island, some part of it having been depressed under the sea, and other parts, which had been under it, being raised above it. Such changes in the superficial parts of tlie globe, seemed to me unlikely to happen, if the earth were solid to the centre. I therefore imagined that the internal parts might be a fluid more dense, and of greater specific gravity than any ofthe solids we are acquainted with ; whichtherefore might swim iii or upon that fluid. Thus the surface of the globe would be a. shell, capable of being broken and disordered by the violent movements of the fluid on which it rested. And, as air has been compressed by art so as to be twice as dense as water, in which. case, if such air and water could be contained in a strong glass vessel,, the air would be seen to take the lowest place, and the Water t© float above and upon, it; and, as we know not yet the degree of density to which air may be compressed, and M. Amontons calculated, that its density encreasing. as it approached 84 APPENDIX TO ORATION IL the centre in the same proportion as above the furface, it woulefy at fhe depth of leagues, be heavier than gold, possibly tiie dense fluid occupying the internal parts of the globe might be- air compressed. And as the force of expansion in dense air when; heated, is in proportion to its density ; this central air might afford another agent to move the surface, as well as be of use in keeping alive the central fires : Though, as you observe, tlie sudden rarefaction of water coming into contact with those fires, may be an agent sufficiently strong for that purpose,, when act ing between the incumbent earth and the fluid on which it rests. If one might indulge imagination in supposing how such a globe was formed, I should conceive, that all the elements in se parate particles, being originally mixed in confusion, and occupy- ing a great space, they would (as soon as tlie Almighty Fiat brdaiiaed grsmty, or the mutual attraction of certain parts, and the mutual repulsion of other parts, to exist); all move towards their common centre : That the air being a fluid whose p;irts repel eaeh other, though dra-wn to the common centre by their gravity. Would be densest towards the centre, and rarer as more ; remote ; censequently all bodies, lighter than the central parts of that air, and immersed in> it, would recede from the centre, and rise till they arrived at that region of the air, which was of the same specifie. gravity -with themselves, where they would rest ; while other matter, mixed with the lighter air, would descend, and the two meeting would form, the shell of the first eavdi, leav ing the upper atmosphere nearly clear. The original move ment of tiie parts towards their common- centre would form a whirl there ;. which would continue in the turning of the newt formed globe uport its axis, and the greatest diameter of the shell ¦would be in its equator. If by any accident afterwards tlie axis should be changed, the dense internal fluid, by altering, its foi-m, must burst the shell and throw all its substance into the confusion in which we find it. I will not trouble you at pKesent witli my fancies concerning the manner of forming the rest of our system. jif Uperior beings smile at our theories, and at our presumption in making them. I will just mention that your observation of (she ferruginous nature of the lava which is thrown out from tiie, depths of our yoicanoes, gave me great pleasure. It has long" APPENDIX TO ORATION II. 8S been a supposition of mine, that the iron contained in the sub stance of the globe has made it capable of becoming, as it is, a great magnet; that the fluid of magnetism exists perhaps in all space; so that there is a magnetical North and South of the Uni verse, as well as of this globe, and that if it were possible for a man to fly from star to star, he might govern his course by the com pass ; that it was by the power of this general magnetism this globe became a particular magnet. In soft or hot iron the fluid of magnetism is naturally diffused equaUy : When within the in fluence of a magnet, it is drawn to one end of the iron, made denser tliere and rarer at the other. While the iron continues soft and hot it is only a temporary magnet : If it cools or grows hard in that situation, it becomes a permanent one, the magnetic fluid not easily resuming its equilibrium. Perhaps it may be owing to the permanent magnetism of this globe, which it had not at first, that its axis is at present kept parallel to itself, and not liable to thSjichanges it formerly suffered, which occasioned the rupture of its shell, the submersions and emersions of its lands, and the confiision of its seasons. The present polar and equato rial diameters differing from each other near ten leagues, it is easy to conceive in ease some power should shift the axis gra dually, and place it in the present equator, and make the new equator pass through the present poles, -wliat . a sinking of the waters would happen in the present equatorial regions, and what a rising in the present polar regions ; so that vast tracts would be uncovered that now are under water, and others covered that now are dry,' the water rising and sinking in the different ex tremes near five leagues. Such an operation as this, possibly, occasioned much of purope, and among the rest this mountain of Passy on wkich I live, and which is composed of limestone, rock and sea-shells, to be abandoned by the sea, and to change its an cient climate>i which seems to have been a hot one. The globe beingnow become a permanent magnet, we are perhaps sa,fe fi-om- any future change of its a-xis. But we are still subject to the ac cidents on the surface, which are occasioned by a- wave in the in ternal ponderous fluid ; and such a wave is produced by the sudden violent explosion you mention, happieningjjfrom the jutiqtioni of water, and fire under the earth, which not only lifts thg incum bent earth that is over the explosion, but inigressing with the 8S APPENDIX TO ORATION 11. same force the fluid under it, creates a wave that may run a thou sand leagues, lifting and thereby shaking successively all the countries under which it passes. I know not whether I have ex pressed myself so clearly, as not to get out ofyour sight in these reveries. If they occasion any new inquiries, and produce a better hypothesis, they will not be quite useless. You see I have given a loose to the imagination, but I approve much more your method 6f philosophizing, which proceeds upon actual observation, makes a collection of facts, and concludes no farther than those facts will warrant. In my present circumstances, that mode of study ing the nature of the globe is out of my power, and therefore I have permitted myself to wander a little in the wilds of fancy. With great esteem, I have the honour to be, Sir, &c. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. P. S. I have heard that chemists can by their art decompose stone and wood, extracting a considerable quantity of water from tbe one, and air from the other. It seems natural to conclude from this, that water and air were ingredients in their original composition : For men cannot make new matter of any kind. In the same manner may we not suppose, that when we con sume combustibles of all kinds, and produce heat or light,'we do not create that heat or light; we only decompose a substance which received it originally as a part of its composition? Heat may thus be considered as originally in a fluid state ; but, attracted by organized bodies in their growth, becomes apart ofthe solid. Besides this, I can conceive that in the first assemblage of the particles of which this earth is composed, each brought its por tion of the loose heat that had been connected with it, and the whole, when pressed together, produced the internal fire which still subsists. No. II. ENDORSED LOOSE THOUGHTS ON AN UNIVERSAL FLUID, EcC. PASSY, JUNE 25, 17'84. UNIVERSAL space, as far as we know of it, seems to be fil led with a subtile fluid, whose motion, or vibration, is called Light. APPENDIX TO ORATION II. 87 This fluid may possibly be the same with that which being attracted by, and entering into other more soUd matter, dilates the substance, by separating the constituent particles, and so rendering some solids fluid, and maintaining the fluidity of others : of which fluid when our bodies are totally deprived, they are said to be frozen ; when they have a proper quantity, they are in health, and fit to perform all their fimctions ; it is then called natural heat : when too much, it is called fever ; and when forced into the body in too great a quantity from without, it gives pain by separating and destroying the flesh, and is then called burning; and the fluid so entering and acting is called fire. While organized bodies, animal or vegetable, are augment ing in growth, or are supplying their continual waste, is not this done by attracting and consolidating this fluid called fire, so as to form of it apart of their substance; and is it not a separation of the parts of such substance, which, dissolving its solid state, sets that subtile fluid at liberty, when it again makes its ap pearance as fire ? For the power of man relative to matter seems limited to the dividing it, or mixing the various kinds of it, or changing its form and appearance by different compositions of it ; but does not extend tothe making or creating of new matter, or annihilating the old : Thus if fire be an original element, or kind of matter, its quantity is fixed and permanent in the world. We cannot destroy any part of it, or make addition to it; we can only sepa rate it from that which confines it, and so set it at liberty, as when we put wood in a situation to be burnt; or transfer it from one solid to another, as when we make lime by burning stone, a part of the fire dislodged from the wood being left in the stone. May not this fluid when at liberty be capable of penetrating and en tering into all bodies organized or not, quitting easily in totality those not organized ; and quitting easily in part those which are ; the part assumed and fixed remaining till the body is dissolved? Is it not this fluid which keeps asunder the particles of air, permitting them to approach, or separating them more, in pro portion as its quantity is diminished or augmented? Is it not ¦ the greater gravity of the particles of air, which forces the par ticles of this fluid to mount with the matters to which it is at tached, as smoke or vapour? «S APPENDIX TO ORATION IL Does it not seem to have a great affinity with water, since it will quit a solid to unite with that fluid, and go off with it in va pour, lea-ving the solid cold to the touch, and the degree mea surable by the thermometer? The vapour rises attached to this fluid, but at a certain height they separate, and the vapour descends in rain, retaining but little of it, in snow or hail less. What becomes of that fluid ? Does it rise above our atmosphere, and mix equally with the uni versal mass of the same kind? Or does a spherical stratum of it, denser, or less mixed with air, attracted by this globe, and repelled or pushed up only to a certain height from its surface, by the greater weight of air, remain there surrounding the globe, and proceeding with it round the sun. In such case, as there may be a continuity or communica tion of this fluid through the air quite down to the earth, is it not by the vibrations given to it by the sun that light appears to us ; and may it not be, that every one of the infinitely small vibra tions, striking common matter -with a certain force, enter its sub stance, are held there by attraction, and augmented by si;cceeding vibrations, till the matter has received as much as their force can drive into it? Is it not thus that the surface of this globe is continually lieated by such repeated vibrations in the day, and cooled by the escape of the heat when those vibrations are discontinued in the night, or intercepted and reflected by clouds ? Is it not thus that fire is, amassed, and makes the greatest par-t of the substance of combustible bodies ? Perhaps when this globe was first formed, and its original particles took their place at certain distances from the centre, in proportion to their greater or less gravity, die fluid fire, attracted towards that centre, might in great part be obliged, as lightest, to take place above the rest, and thus form the sphere of fire above supposed, which would afterwards be continually dimi-^ nishing by the substance it afforded to organized bodies, and the quEUitity restored to it again by the burning or other sepa rating of the parts of those bodies ? Is not the natural heat of animals thus produced, by sepa rating in digestion the parts of food, and setting their fire at liberty ? APPENDIX TO ORATION II. 89 Is it not this sphere of fire which kindles the wandering globes that sometimes pass through it in our course round the sun, have their surface kindled by it, and burst when their in cluded air is greatly rarified by 'the heat on their burning sur faces? , IN the foregoing work, a paper is mentioned in which Dr. Franklin, among his other conjectures and imaginations (as he modestly stiles them) supposes it possible, by attentive obser vations made during the summer, to foretel the mildness or severity of the follovring -winter. — « When in summer (says he) the sun is high, and long every <',day above the horizon, his rays strike the earth more directly, « and with longer continuance than in the winter: hence the " surface is more heated and to a greater depth, by the effect « of these rays. When rain falls on the heated earth and sinks « down into it, it carries down with it a great part of the heat « which by that means descends still deeper. — The mass of « earth, to the depth of perhaps 3 feet, being thus heated to a " certain degree, continues to retain its heat for some time., " Thus the first snows that fall in the beginning of winter, sel- " dom lie long on tiie surface. Afterwards, the winds that blo-vir " over the country, on which the snows had fallen, are not ren- " dered so cold as they would have been, had these snows re- " mained; and thus the approach ofthe severity ofthe winter-. " is retarded. V; *¦ " During several of the summer months of 1783, when the " efforts of tfie sun's rays to heat these northern regions would i, '' have been great, there existed a constant fog over all Europe, * and jgreat part of North America. This fog was of a peculiar " nature: it was ^dry, and the rays ofthe sun seemed to have " l^le efiect towards dissipating it, as they dissolve a moist fog " arising frpm water. They were ipdeed rendered so faint in " pasping through it, that when, collected in the focus of aburp- " ing'glass, they would, scarce kindle brown paper. Of course *' their summer effect in heatj«tg;..the earth was exceedingly di- " minishgd : . llence the s'ilj ^e was early frozen : Hence the " first ^iiows remained on it, and received continual additions: " Hence the air was more chilled, and the winter more severely VOL. I. M 4 ¦#! ¦ 9« APPENDIX TO ORATION IL " cold: And hence tbe winter of 1783 — 4 was more severe than " any that had happened for many years." IN th& philosophical and political career o-f this great man^ numerous are the instances which might be given to confirm the truth of an observation already made, that one ruling passion formed the motive qf every action^— " a desire to do good and to communicate." His address, in this, was g^eat, adapting himself to subjects and persons, with the most win ning affection and familiarity, as occasion required— -from, the earliest to the latest period of his life. . In a letter, which he wrote to his sister in 1758, he conveys the first great lesson of religion, .by a pleasant criticism on some verses written by his uncle, one line of which was '* Raise faith and hope three stories higher.'* " The meaning of three stories higher," (he said)." seems " somewha^t obscure. You-'are to upderstancl then t^at Eciith^ " ffope, and Chqrity, have been called the three steps of Jacob's " ladder, reaching from earth to heaven : our author calls them " stories ofthe Christian edifice. Thus improvement in religion « is called building up, or edification. Faith is then the ground " floor, and Hope is up one pair of stedrs. My dearly beloved " Jenny, do not delight so much to dwell in these lower rooms, « but get as fast as you can into the garret, for in truth the " best rooin in the house is Charity." IN a letter, -written when in France to Dr. Mather pf Bos- Ion, Jie attributes his disposition of doing good, to the eai-ly im pression of a book wljiclt attracted his notice when he was ^- boy, called Essays to do Good, -written by Dr. Mather's father. — ",It had been, says he, so little regarded by a former posses- " sor,<,that several leaves of it were toiTj out, but thg remainder " gave me such a turn, of thiijking, as to have great influence on " my conduct through" life f for 1 have always set a. greater value " on the character of a doer pf good, than on any other tindof " reputation ; and if I have beeh, as you seem to think, a useful « citizen, the public owes the adveiitage of it to thatbook. He proceeds. — " The last time I saw your father was in the " beginning of 1724. ; He received me in his' library, andou my APPENmX TO ORATION II. 9 1 "taking leaye, shi^wed me a shorter way out of the house, " through a narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam over " head. We were still talking as I -withdrew, he accompanying " me behind, and I turning partly to-wards hi?n, when he said " hastily, Stoop ! steop ! I did not understand him, till I felt my '^ head hit against the beam. He was a man that never missed " an occasion of giving instmction, and upon this he said tome " —Tou areyoufig, and have the world before you ; stoop as you go " through it, and you will miss many hard thumps. This advice, " thus beaten into my head, has often beep of use to me through " life, and I often think of it when I see pride mortified, and mis- " fortunes brought upon people by carrying their heads too "high." pbSTSCRlJPT. May \st, 1802. WHILE this Eulogium was originally in the press, the follow ing verses, beautifully poetical and descriptive ofthe character of Dr. Franklin, were found on tRe writing-desk of my study ; but whether dropped there by some one of the nine muses, or by what mortal favorite of theirs, I could not then Jearn. They were accompanied with a request, that they might be annexed to the Eulogiuijt ; but apprehending^ that the publisher, Mr. 'Eache, who was Dr. Franklin's ^andson might think it indecent in him to give circulation to the two last stanzas, however much he might approbate the three first ; they were stippressed at that time, and from a persuasion also, that, at a fixture day, they might more easily be eiiiured by the wai-mest of Dr. 'Frank lin's survivins: friend's. The verses wera foUiid in the hand-writing of my dear de ceased wife, and iiBti-e'collectiiig, at that time evei: to have seen or read them, and asking from what original she had 'Copied them, she laughed,, as I thought, a,t the scaptinpssof my reading on a subject so recent as the death of Dr. Fijanklin, whose pane gyrist I had been appointejii bj ^,gra,ve society of,philosophers. I replied, with a mixture of a little raillery in my turn, that if she would not satisfy me resfifectin^ th'e author ofthe Verses, or from what source she had copied thittV I shdtiW Consider myself as happily yoked to ai V«l And we saw, with delight and surprize, ' That his rod could protect us from thunder. Oh! had he been wise to pursue. The path which his talents design'd, What a tribute of praise had been due To the teacher and friend of mankind ! ' But to covet political fame, Was, in Him, a degrading ambition ; A spark which from Lucifer came. Enkindled the blaze of sedition. Let candor, then, write, on his urn Here lies the renowne4 inventor, Whose flame to the skies ought, to burn. But, inverted, descends to the csnteri iJt^fcf.'''' ^*sil5SliSfesa!3-„'-"*rT t-a^ ilr^li- r- fSjrits.-.if, nrt'.- '.-. %',' . i'; . ',- ; - .4 *-j ,