Q. Do you not think the people of America would submit to pay the stamp duty if it was moderated?
A. No, never, unless compelled by force of arms…
Q. What was the temper of America toward Great Britain before the year 1763?3
A. The best in the world. They submitted willingly to the government of the Crown, and paid, in their courts, obedience to the acts of Parliament. Numerous as the people are in the several old provinces, they cost you nothing in forts, citadels, garrisons, or armies, to keep them in subjection. They were governed by this country at the expense only of a little pen, ink, and paper; they were led by a thread. They had not only a respect but an affection for Great Britain, for its laws, its customs and manners, and even a fondness for its fashions that greatly increased the commerce. Natives of Britain were always treated with particular regard; to be an "Old England man" was, of itself, a character of some respect, and gave a kind of rank among us.
Q. And what is their temper now?
A. Oh, very much altered…
Q. If the Stamp Act should be repealed, would it induce the assemblies of America to acknowledge the right of Parliament to tax them, and would they erase their resolutions?
A. No, never.
Q. Are there no means of obliging them to erase those resolutions?
A. None that I know of; they will never do it unless compelled by force of arms.
Q. Is there a power on earth that can force them to erase them?
A. No power, how great soever, can force men to change their opinions…
Q. What used to be the pride of the Americans?
A. To indulge in the fashions and manufactures of Great Britain.
Q. What is now their pride?
A. To wear their old clothes over again, till they can make new ones.
After the repeal of the act, Franklin wrote to his wife: "I am willing you should have a new gown, which you may suppose I did not send sooner as I knew you would not like to be finer than your neighbors unless in a gown of your own spinning. Had the trade between the two countries totally ceased, it was a comfort to me to recollect that I had once been clothed from head to foot in woolen and linen of my wife's manufacture, that I never was prouder of any dress in my life, and that she and her daughter might do it again if it was necessary."
Franklin stayed ten years in England. In 1774 he presented to the king the petition of the first Continental Congress, in which the petitioners, who protested their loyalty to Great Britain, claimed the right of taxing themselves. But, finding this and other efforts at adjustment of little avail, he returned to Philadelphia in May, 1775. On the 5th of July he wrote to Mr. Strahan, an old friend in London: "You are a member of Parliament, and one of that majority which has doomed my country to destruction. You have begun to burn our towns and murder our people. Look upon your hands; they are stained with the blood of your relations! You and I were long friends; you are now my enemy, and I am yours."
After the Declaration of Independence and the establishment of the States as a nation, Franklin was chosen as representative to France. "I am old and good for nothing," he said, when told of the choice, "but, as the storekeepers say of their remnants of cloth, I am but a fag-end; you may have me for what you please."
It was a most important post. France was the ancient enemy of England, and the contingent of men and aid of money which Franklin gained served to the successful issue of the Revolution. He lived while in France at Passy, near Paris, from which he wrote to a friend in England: "You are too early … in calling me rebel; you should wait for the event which will determine whether it is a rebellion or only a revolution… I know you wish you could see me; but, as you cannot, I will describe myself to you. Figure me in your mind as jolly as formerly, and as strong and hearty, only a few years older; very plainly dressed, wearing my thin, gray, straight hair, that peeps out under my only coiffure, a fine fur cap which comes down my forehead almost to my spectacles. Think how this must appear among the powdered heads of Paris! I wish every lady and gentleman in France would only be so obliging as to follow my fashion, comb their own heads as I do mine, dismiss their friseurs, and pay me half the money they pay to them."
At last, in 1785, he came home, old and broken in health. He was chosen president, or governor, of Pennsylvania, and the faith of the people in his wisdom made him delegate to the convention which framed the Constitution in 1787. He died in 1790, and was buried by his wife in the graveyard of Christ Church, Philadelphia.
The epitaph which he had written when a printer was not put upon his tomb:
§ 1. PARENTAGE AND BOYHOOD
Dear Son: 5 I have ever had pleasure in obtaining any little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries I made among the remains of my relations when you were with me in England, and the journey I undertook for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally agreeable to you to know the circumstances of my life, many of which you are yet unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my present country retirement, I sit down to write them for you. To which I have besides some other inducements. Having emerged from the poverty and obscurity in which I was born and bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of reputation in the world, and having gone so far through life with a considerable share of felicity, the conducing means I made use of, which with the blessing of God so well succeeded, my posterity may like to know, as they may find some of them suitable to their own situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.
That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced me sometimes to say that, were it offered to my choice, I should have no objection to a repetition of the same life from its beginning, only asking the advantages authors have in a second edition to correct some faults of the first. So I might, besides correcting the faults, change some sinister accidents and events of it for others more favorable. But though this were denied, I should still accept the offer. Since such a repetition is not to be expected, the next thing like living one's life over again seems to be a recollection of that life, and to make that recollection as durable as possible by putting it down in writing.
Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination, so natural in old men, to be talking of themselves and their own past actions; and I shall indulge it without being tiresome to others, – who, through respect to age, might conceive themselves obliged to give me a hearing, – since this may be read or not as any one pleases. And, lastly, (I may as well confess it, since my denial of it will be believed by nobody,) perhaps I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity. Indeed, I scarce ever heard or saw the introductory words, "Without vanity, I may say," etc., but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they may have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter wherever I meet with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the possessor, and to others that are within his sphere of action; and therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.
And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility to acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of my past life to his kind providence, which led