THE NOBLE CHIEFTAIN AND THE IMMORTAL SAGE: WASHINGTON AND FRANKLIN
Dr. Whitfield J. Bell, Jr. (1957)

Washington and Franklin met only once before the Second Continental Congress brought them together in Philadelphia in 1775, and Franklin left for France the following year. But their friendship and mutual respect deepened as they fought for the new republic, each in their own way, on opposite sides of the Atlantic. Whitfield offers a wonderful description of Franklin in Paris, beset by Europeans seeking letters of introduction to join Washington’s officers’ corps – from the worthy Pulaski, von Steuben and Lafayette to unknown Peruvians. He concludes with an insightful perspective on the godlike status Washington and Franklin were accorded by citizens of the young nation in the decades following their deaths.

G eorge Washington and Benjamin Franklin were this country's first national heroes. While they still lived and for a century after their deaths they were linked as objects of popular gratitude and remembrance. The noble chieftain and the immortal sage had won independence and established the republic. Their names were given proudly and hopefully to counties and colleges, militia units, fire companies, even a temperance society; their authority was appealed to in every national crisis and a good deal of daily living as well. On the earliest rolls of the nation's great their names appeared together.

The author of The Prospect of America in 1787 saluted

Great Washington! thy sounding fame inspires
The heav'n-rapt bard, with more than human fires:
                                  * * *
In lasting archives shall thy glories rest,
Engrav'd for ever on each grateful breast:
In every heart thy monument be known,
With this inscription, “Here is Washington.”

And he summoned his countrymen to

See where thy Franklin points the glorious way;
Like Newton skill'd, dark error to control,
And pour bright knowledge on th' enraptured soul.
Go, mighty genius, where thy judgment spreads
The road to glory -- where fair science leads.
From yon black clouds, that low with tempests bent,
Compel the angry thunder to descend;
And as the light'ning flashes swift on high,
O, seize it glimm'ring from the darken'd sky:
Then, like thyself, with flame enveloped o'er,
While round thy brow the thunders harmless roar,
Rise greater still -- from tyrants snatch the rod,
And be the second only to thy God.

Though their names were thus united from the first days of the new republic, Washington and Franklin were as unlike in their fame as they were different in their characters and their achievements. His integrity, his disinterestedness, even those commanding Roman features which Houdon has preserved gave Washington a godlike air that won and kept him a unique place among the national heroes. Franklin's reasonableness, his inventiveness, above all his humor, though they may have been divine, were not godlike -- and what sort of god ever looked like Benjamin Franklin? With sure instinct their contemporaries gave Washington pre-eminence in the American Valhalla. In verses inspired by the death of Franklin one poet pictured Columbia pleading with Death to spare Franklin so that he might assist Washington in the tasks of founding the republic.

“O save my friend,” she cry'd: “let Franklin stay,
Him whom the raging elements obey
Whose hand my head with deathless honor crown'd
And dashed a tyrant's sceptre to the ground!
Let him remain, to aid my fav'rite son
In works of greatness which are just begun
For if with Washington this sage can join
My-country must be happy and divine!"

And this judgment of the relative greatness of the two men remained the general one. Albert Gallatin expressed it succinctly at a patriotic celebration in 1830 when he offered a toast to the memory of Franklin, "a citizen of Pennsylvania, who, if Washington had not lived, would have been the first man in America."
Though Franklin was not the first hero of America, he was the earliest, a truly American figure, the first of his countrymen to achieve an inter-colonial fame and reputation, and, until the Revolution, the only one. Americans in London from whatever colony rarely omitted to call upon him, seldom failed to record in journals and private letters whatever he told them that was wise or humorous. After 1765 newspapers printed and reprinted anecdotes, witticisms, and his famous epitaph. His eightieth birthday was publicly celebrated by the journeymen printers of Philadelphia, and before he died his portrait hung in public places.

Born in Boston, with which he never cut his ties; a citizen of Philadelphia while it was the unchallenged metropolis of America; a frequent traveler through the colonies on post office business; for eighteen years a resident of London as colonial agent, Franklin on the eve of the Revolution seemed to have been everywhere and to have met everyone. It is therefore not surprising that he should have known Washington when the Virginian’s career was opening. In May 1754 Franklin sent Pennsylvania’s London agent an account of Washington's affair at Fort Necessity which he copied himself from the columns of the <i>Pennsylvania Gazette</i>. By his conduct in the Braddock campaign the next year Washington achieved more than fame. His influence was so great in Pennsylvania that, so Franklin told Christopher Gist, he had only “to write a pressing letter” to the Assembly and he would get their assistance “sooner than anyone in America.” The following year, 1756, on a post office trip to Virginia, Franklin saw Washington; they agreed that each should urge the legislature of his own colony to maintain its portion of the post-road between Philadelphia and Winchester.

The first contacts between Washington and Franklin were thus brief and limited. Doubtless the two men measured each other, but they did not become friends, and no foundation was laid for continued association. Franklin went abroad the following year and remained in London, with a single visit home, until 1775. During that time, as far as his surviving correspondence shows, Franklin's sole reference to Washington was the remark that the latter was opposed to the projected boundaries of Vandalia, Franklin's western land project, because they would deprive Virginia of a good deal of territory.

There were, of course, other, deeper reasons than the miles between London and Mount Vernon why the two men did not correspond in the years before the outbreak of the Revolution. In the first place Washington and Franklin belonged to different generations. Franklin was 26 years older than Washington: the first issue of <i>Poor Richard's Almanac</i> was printed the year Washington was born, and Franklin had retired from business before Lord Fairfax gave Washington his first job as a surveyor. Moreover, the Virginia planter and the Philadelphia printer lived differently, thought differently, aspired to different goals. Franklin on a farm is a contradiction in terms, while a picture of Washington clinching a constitutional argument with a tale and a chuckle would be unrecognizable. Finally, of course, Washington spent most of the two decades before the Revolution absorbed by the claims of Mount Vernon and his responsibilities as a Virginia burgess. During the same period Franklin moved freely in the great world of London politics and science. What the two men had in common was their devotion to American interests. Until this devotion became the paramount concern of each, and each found himself on the same broad stage of action, Washington and Franklin had no occasion to meet and know one another, still less to become intimates.

Washington and Franklin were both members of the Second Continental Congress which assembled in Philadelphia on May 10, 1775. Franklin voted to appoint Washington commander-in-chief of the forces. Six months later the old philosopher journeyed to Cambridge himself as one of a committee of three named by Congress to confer with the general on the best ways to organize and support the army. In a conference at headquarters that lasted four days, regulations were drafted that transformed a band of insurgents into an army and gave its officers and men a status in law. Characteristically, Franklin sought and received suggestions from outside the camp how to make the military equipment more effective. At Cambridge his old friend Josiah Quincy explained an idea for bottling up the British fleet in Boston harbor. Franklin judged that the proposal had some merit and urged Quincy to submit his scheme to the commander-in-chief. Still later one Joseph Belton made his way to Franklin with a contrivance to destroy British shipping in the North River. Congress, occupied with other matters, had paid Belton no attention, but Franklin, considering him “a very ingenious man,” sent him to Washington.

During 1776, while Washington was in the field and Franklin sat in Congress, the two men corresponded occasionally, though usually only formally. What had caused the “sad disaster” at Quebec, Washington confessed to Franklin, he could not guess, but “hence I shall know the events of war are exceedingly doubtful ....” In reply to Washington’s report that a large expedition of British troops was on its way to Canada, Franklin declared, “I see more certainly the ruin of Britain if she persists in such expensive distant expeditions, which will probably prove more disastrous to her than anciently her wars in the Holy Land.” He had had an attack of the gout, Franklin added, and been absent from Congress, and knew little of what was happening there, “except that a Declaration of Independence is preparing.”

After Franklin took up his post as minister to France, correspondence between him and Washington was necessarily much limited, both by the hazards of trans-Atlantic communication and the requirements of protocol and security. Franklin derived his information about the army's movements from the committees of Congress. Only once did Washington break his rule of informing Congress first, and that was when he had news of the surrender of Cornwallis’ army. Even for this, however, he apologized, explaining that he had an immediate opportunityby a French vessel and that “recent intelligence of military transactions must be important to our ministers in Europe at the present period of affairs.”

Most of the letters that passed between Passy and Headquarters between 1777 and 1782, therefore, were Franklin’s introductions of French and other continental officers, bound for America to win liberty and glory. Importunate, persistent, naively enthusiastic, these soldiers and would-be soldiers were one of Franklin's heaviest burdens and embarrassments. “I refuse every day numbers of applications for letters in favor of officers who would go to America,” he explained, half apologetically, to Washington, “as I know you must have more upon your hands already than you can well employ.”

One day a band of ten officers filled his writing room; he gave one a letter to Washington, and told him that when they all reached America, he might introduce the other nine to the General. Another day three Spaniards, natives of Peru and officers in the army there, asked for an introduction to Washington. Franklin's letter was gracious, slightly amused, and non-committal. “I am persuaded that as natives of the most distant ends of our long extended continent so rarely meet, the hospitality of our country will exert itself to make the residence of these strangers among us agreeable to them.” Perhaps the gentlemen from Peru had been especially tiresome; at any rate, after they left, Franklin relieved his feelings about introductions by penning a model letter:

The bearer of this who is going to America, presses me to give him a letter of recommendation, tho' I know nothing of him, not even his name. This may seem extraordinary, but I assure you it is not uncommon here. Sometimes indeed one unknown person brings me another equally unknown, to recommend him; and sometimes they recommend one another! As to this gentleman, I must refer you to himself for his character and merits, with which he is certainly better acquainted than I can possibly be. I recommend him however to those civilities which every stranger, of whom one knows no harm, has a right to, and I request you will do him all the good offices and show him all the favor that on further acquaintance you shall find him to deserve. I have the honor to be, &c.

Not all the proffers of aid, of course, were unwelcome. Among these letters to Washington, each so like the others, a few stand out. On May 29, 1777, Franklin wrote a letter for “Count Pulawski of Poland, an officer famous throughout Europe for his bravery and conduct in defence of the liberties of his country ....” “The Gentleman who will have the honor of waiting upon you with this letter,” Franklin wrote on September 4, 1777, “is the Baron de Steuben, lately a lieutenant-general in the King of Prussia's service, whom he attended in all his campaigns, being his aide-de-camp, quarter-master-general, etc. He goes to America with a true zeal for our cause, and a view of engaging in it and rendering it all the service in his power.” Still later Franklin cheerfully recommended the Marquis de Chastellux as “a soldier, a gentleman, & a man of letters. His excellent book of Publick Happiness shows him the friend to mankind, and ... he is particularly a friend to our cause ....” Washington was pleased with the Marquis, finding him to be a gentleman of “merit, knowledge, & agreeable manners.” He said nothing about the Marquis' book.

But of all the letters about the French volunteers none throws a more attractive light on the relations of Washington and Lafayette than one that Franklin wrote. Lafayette had left France without a sufficient supply of money for his needs. His friends in Paris, “knowing the extreme generosity of his disposition, and fearing that some of his necessitous and artful countrymen may impose on his goodness,” wished to put his money in the hands of a discreet friend, who would make him an allowance and give him friendly advice how to spend it. Thus, at Franklin’s request, Washington assumed the role of Lafayette’s guardian and moral tutor. At the time he asked Washington to perform this service, Franklin had not met Lafayette. He did not do so until 1779 when Lafayette returned home, bearing a strong letter of introduction from Washington:

The generous motives which first induced him to cross the Atlantic-- the tribute which he paid to gallantry at Brandywine -- his success in Jersey before he had recovered of his wound, in an affair where he commanded militia against British grenadiers -- the brilliant retreat by which he eluded a combined manreuvre of the whole British force in the last campaign -- his services in the enterprise against Rhode Island -- are such proofs of his zeal, military ardor & talent as have endeared him to America, and most greatly recommend him to his Prince.

Coming with so many titles to claim your esteem -- it were needless for any other purpose than to indulge my own feelings to add that I have a very particular friendship for him.

As the principal American in Europe Franklin was the recipient of questions and tributes directed to the most famous American at home. The president of a “societe choisie” congratulated Franklin on the military and heroic virtues of the incomparable Washington, and asked for a portrait of the General. Another correspondent wanted to know Washington’s latest titles so that he might address him properly. Scores of poets directed to Franklin’s care odes and other verses, most of scant merit, dedicated to Washington and his military exploits. One scribbler sent two verses, both in Latin, the first addressed "Ad dominum Wassingthonem fcedaratarum Provinciarum Americae Dictatorem," the other, in similar terms, "Ad dominum doctorem Franclinum foederatarum Provinciarum Americae legatum."

Meanwhile in Philadelphia Sally Franklin Bache, the old diplomat's daughter, was amusingly involved in the relations between her father and General Washington. The Philadelphia social season of 1779, the first after the British evacuation, was especially gay, with dinners, dances, entertainments of many kinds. Mr. and Mrs. Bache received many invitations, sometimes to the General’s, often to houses where the General was a guest. As any woman might, Sally soon discovered she needed new clothes to vary her costume in all this partying, and so she sent her father in Paris a list of what she wanted. The author of Poor Richard was pained and outraged when he read it:

... I could scarce believe my eyes in reading ... that you ... wanted black pins and feathers from France to appear, I suppose, in the mode! ... As I am always preaching (frugality) ... I cannot in conscience or decency encourage the contrary, by my example, in furnishing my children with foolish modes and luxuries. I therefore send all the articles you desire, that are useful and necessary, and omit the rest ... If you wear your cambric ruffles as I do, and take care not to mend the holes they will come in time to be lace; and feathers, my dear girl, may be had in America from every cock's tail.

Franklin concluded this homily on thrift and plainness by asking Sally, when she saw General Washington again, to “assure him of my very great and sincere respect, and tell him, that all the old generals here amuse themselves in studying the accounts of his operations, and approve highly of his conduct.” Sally was not afraid to stand up to her father. “You would not have had me, I am sure, stay away from the Ambassador’s or the General’s entertainments,” she retorted with spirit, “nor when I was invited to spend the day with General Washington and his lady, and you would have been the last person I am sure to have wished to see me dress’d with singularity, tho’ I never loved dress so much as to wish to be particularly fine ....” As for conveying her father’s respects to Washington, months passed before she had the opportunity. Then it was in a letter announcing that the women of Philadelphia were shipping to camp 2,005 shirts which they themselves had made for the army. She hoped, she added, they would “be worn with as much pleasure as they were made.” The General gallantly assured her that the value of the shirts was “greatly enhanced by a consideration of the hands by which ... (they) were made and presented.” As for Dr. Franklin’s sentiments, they were “indeed very pleasing” to him, “for nothing in human life can afford a liberal mind more rational and exquisite satisfaction than the approbation of a wise, a great and virtuous man.”

Meanwhile on March 5, 1780, Franklin made Washington an inspired and engaging proposal:

Should peace arrive after another campaign or two, and afford us a little leisure, I should be happy to see your Excellency in Europe, and to accompany you, if my age and strength would permit, in visiting some of its ancient and most famous kingdoms. You would on this side the sea enjoy the great reputation you have acquir’d, pure and free from those little shades that jealousy and envy of a man’s countrymen and contemporaries are ever endeavoring to cast over living merit. Here you would know, and enjoy, what posterity will say of Washington. For 1000 leagues have nearly the same effect with 1000 years ....

I must soon quit the scene, but you may live to see our country flourish, as it will amazingly and rapidly after the war is over. Like a field of young Indian corn, which long fair weather and sunshine had enfeebled and discolor’d, and which in that weak state, by a thunder gust of violent wind, hail and rain, seem’d to be threaten’d with absolute destruction, yet the storm being once past, it recovers fresh verdure, shoots up with double vigor, and delights the eye, not of its owner only, but of every observing traveller.

This was more than an idle invitation. Clearly appreciating what his own fame in France added to America's diplomatic armory, Franklin understood that the presence of America's two heroes in Europe together would present an ineffaceable picture of America to European eyes, stimulate and secure the good will and interest of the people and perhaps states of Europe toward the new republic. Though not unaware of these deeper implications, the Virginian was already sighing for Mount Vernon. The thought of making a tour of Europe with Franklin, Washington answered, “would be one of the strongest motives I could have to postpone my plan of retirement ... if my domestic habits ... did not tell me, I shall find it impossible to resist them longer than my duty to the public calls for the sacrifice of my inclinations.”

With the end of hostilities and the reestablishment of peace, Americans began to go abroad again. Now Washington unwittingly turned the tables on Franklin by providing importuning Americans with introductions to the Minister at Passy. Rather surprisingly, many of the travelers to Europe in 1783 intended to solicit gifts from English philanthropists for American institutions. President Wheelock of Dartmouth carried a letter from Washington to Franklin. So did President Witherspoon of Princeton. Franklin resented the whole idea of such solicitations abroad; they were “disgraceful” to America, he told Witherspoon, “and hurt the credit of responsibility we wish to maintain in Europe, by representing the United States as too poor to provide for the education of their own children.”

Franklin came home at last in the summer of 1785. Sailing with him was M. Antoine Houdon, the first sculptor of Europe. Commissioned by the Commonwealth of Virginia, selected by Jefferson with the concurrence of Franklin, Houdon was on his way to America to make a statue of Washington. The voyage began unluckily enough for the artist and his workmen: their baggage failed to reach Le Havre before the ship sailed, he and his three workmen had only six shirts among them during the voyage. Perhaps they borrowed some from Franklin.

Franklin’s return to Philadelphia after nearly nine years’ absence was the occasion for public demonstrations of respect and affection. His days were occupied with visits from old friends, addresses from the principal corporations of the city, calls by officers of the societies he had founded. The Freemasons, dedicating a new lodge hall in Black Horse Alley, hoped that their former Grand Master might be able to attend the exercises, but he could not. The toasts, however, were offered as planned, one to Washington as the intended Grand Master of America, another to “that dignified philosopher and friend to mankind, Brother Benjamin Franklin.” At his first moment of leisure Franklin wrote to Washington to announce both his own return home and the arrival of M. Houdon, who, his wardrobe replenished and new tools bought, was ready to travel to Mount Vernon. Assuring Franklin that he would gladly receive the sculptor whenever he could arrive, Washington added,

It would give me infinite pleasure to see you, at this place I dare not look for it, tho’ to entertain you under my own roof would be doubly gratifying. When, or whether ever I shall have the satisfaction of seeing you at Philadelphia is uncertain, as retirement from the public walks of life has not been so productive of the leisure & ease as might have been expected.

Franklin, however, though he was nearly 80 and had earned his rest, did not retire. “Instead of setting himself down in the lap of ease,” Washington wrote, Franklin plunged once more into public life, this time as president of the Supreme Executive Council of Pennsylvania. Washington expressed his doubts privately. If “the good old gentleman”" should succeed in reconciling “the jarring interests of the citizens of Pennsylvania,” he assured Rochambeau, “fresh laurels will crown his brow; but it is to be feared that the task is too great for human wisdom to accomplish.”

Washington did come to Philadelphia, as a delegate to the Federal Convention in the spring of 1787. He paid a courtesy call on the president of Pennsylvania, and several times during the four months the Convention sat, Washington went to tea or dinner in the informal, cluttered, book-lined house in Orianna Street. Once Franklin entertained his guest with a demonstration of a mangle for pressing, instead of ironing, clothes after washing.

The services of these two men in the Constitutional Convention are too well known to require relating again. Both exerted themselves to conciliate differences, to keep the delegates in agreement, rather than to lead them in any particular direction. None of Franklin’s favorite legislative ideas -- a unicameral legislature, a plural executive, non-payment of officeholders -- was adopted, and there were several parts of the new constitution he frankly admitted he did not approve. But, he went on, he was not sure he would never approve them; and in this wise, tolerant spirit Franklin appealed to the delegates to doubt a little of their own infallibility, and sign the instrument.

By their share in drafting the Constitution, Washington and Franklin were judged, at least by Federalists, to have added another dimension to their fame. With the ratification of the document the names of these two would be enrolled with those of the Solons and Numas of antiquity. The military virtues of the former, and the philosophic splendor of the latter, will be obscured by the new lustre they will acquire as the legislators of an immense continent. -- Illustrious Chieftain! immortal Sage -- ye will have the plaudits of the world for having twice saved your country! -- you have once preserved it against the dangers and misery of foreign dominations; you will now save it from the more destructive influence of civil dissension.

The fact that Washington and Franklin had signed the Constitution, despite reservations the latter had, was one of the Federalists’ strongest arguments. If the new constitution was not a good one, they demanded, how could these two men -- the undisputed national heroes -- have recommended it to the people?

For who so buried in the ocean
Of ignorance to credit notion
That Washington could have design,
Our government to undermine;
Or aged Franklin to erase
Our constitution from the base?

This Hugh Henry Brackenridge satirized the anti-Federalists’ dilemma. The question was in fact almost unanswerable, but anti-Federalists attempted the impossible nonetheless. Wealthy men, ambitious for power, ran their argument, had imposed on Washington’s “unsuspecting goodness and zeal,” on Franklin's “weakness and indecision attendant on old age.” As Brackenridge put it,

But let us do what can be done.
For instance, as to Washington,
Say his skill lies wholly in arms,
And cares of his Virginia farms;
But nothing knows of state affairs,
No more than buff'lo does of prayers;
And as to Franklin, say he fails
In judgment, as his age prevails.

To such arguments the champions of the Constitution replied that they insulted the men and the nation as well by asserting in effect that Washington was “a fool from nature” and Franklin “a fool from age.” Weeks before the instrument was ratified men turned toward Washington for president. “What little influence I may have,” Franklin told Le Veillard, “is devoted to him.”

There was one more exchange between the two men. Franklin was past 83, and both men knew that this might be the last. Casual in the days of the French and Indian War, formal during the first years of the Revolution, their association had grown stronger and deeper as their respect for each other grew. There was a note akin to tenderness in their letters in 1789. During that summer Washington was ill. Franklin congratulated him on the recovery of his health, “so precious to us all, and on the growing strength of our new government under your administration. For my own personal ease,” Franklin continued, “I should have died two years ago; but tho’ those years have been spent in excruciating pain, I am pleased that I have lived them, since they have brought me to see our present situation.” He would always retain “the esteem, respect, and affection, with which I have long been, my dear friend, yours most sincerely, B. Franklin.”

This touching letter brought an immediate, heartfelt response. “Would to God, my dear sir,” Washington wrote him, that I could congratulate you upon the removal of that excruciating pain under which you labor! and that your existence might close with as much ease to yourself, as its continuance has been beneficial to our country and useful to mankind! ... if to be venerated for benevolence: if to be admired for talents: if to be esteemed for patriotism: if to be beloved for philanthropy, can gratify the human mind, you must have the pleasing consolation to know that you have not lived in vain; and I flatter myself that it will not be ranked among the least grateful occurrences of your life to be assured that so long as I retain my memory, you will be thought on with respect, veneration, and affection by, dear sir, your sincere friend and obedient humble servant, G. Washington.

Six months later Franklin died. The city of Philadelphia honored him as it had honored none of its citizens before. Twenty thousand people lined the streets as the procession passed. The national House of Representatives went into mourning for a month. Thomas Jefferson, now Secretary of State, proposed to the President that the executive branch should wear mourning as well; but, as Franklin had died a private citizen, Washington feared to set a precedent lest he should not know where to draw the line in ordering mourning in the future. “I told him,” Jefferson wrote afterwards, “that the world had drawn a line between him and Dr. Franklin on the one hand, and the residue of mankind on the other, that we might wear mourning for them, and the question still remain new and undecided as to all others.” But Washington was unmoved.

In a gracious gesture Franklin bequeathed to his “friend, and the friend of mankind,” George Washington, the fine crabtree walking-stick which the Dowager Duchesse de DeuxPonts had given him. This cane, its “gold head curiously wrought in the form of the cap of liberty,” Washington received gratefully as “a token of remembrance and a mark of friendship.” He willed it in his turn to his brother Charles, from whom it descended to Charles’ son Samuel. By another term of his will Washington left a sword to each of his five nephews. Samuel selected the sword which family tradition said his uncle had carried in the field during the Revolution. Its workmanship was plain but substantial, and it bore the name of the maker, J. Bailey of Fishkill, and the initials "G. W." and the date "1757." Thus Washington's nephew, Captain Samuel Washington, was eventually the owner of both Franklin’s cane and Washington’s field sword. The two relics passed to his son, Samuel T. Washington, of Kanawha County in western Virginia.

Such articles as these, Mr. Washington came to believe, ought not be in private possession, but belonged to the nation. On January 9, 1843, in a letter to Congressman George W. Summers, he offered them to the nation. Satisfied that the relics were authentic, Summers arranged that they should be formally presented, and accepted by a joint resolution of Congress. He would present them on behalf of Mr. Washington. To move the resolution of acceptance and thanks Summers turned to the member from Massachusetts, John Quincy Adams. No more appropriate choice could have been made. Adams had known both Washington and Franklin. He had gone to school in Paris with Franklin’s grandson, and Washington had appointed him to the first post he held in the federal service. As a child he had watched the battle of Bunker Hill from a rooftop, his life was in fact coeval with the Republic’s, and none spoke more strongly for the Union which Washington and Franklin had made.

The papers had announced the ceremony, and the House and its galleries were filled when the Representatives were called to order at noon on February 7. Summers gave a full account and description of these “two most interesting and valuable relics.” He spoke simply, almost matter-of-factly; then, with evident feeling, exclaimed,

Let the sword of the Hero and the staff of the Philosopher go together. Let them have place among the proudest trophies and most honored memorials of our national achievements.

Upon that staff once leaned the sage, of whom it has been said, “He snatched the lightning from heaven, and the sceptre from tyrants.”

A mighty arm once wielded this sword in a righteous cause, even unto the dismemberment of empire. In the hand of Washington, this was “the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon.”

It was never drawn except in defense of public liberty; it was never sheathed until a glorious and triumphant success returned it to the scabbard, without a stain of cruelty or dishonor upon its blade; it was never surrendered except to that country which bestowed it.

As Summers proceeded the crowded hall fell silent. Now, carefully; almost reverently Summers delivered the sword and the cane to the Sergeant-at-Arms; that officer carried them to the Speaker of the House. The Speaker rose to receive them. Every eye followed those simple objects, mementoes of heroes that were sensed to be also symbols of the Republic. A few shed tears.

In this tense, emotion-filled atmosphere Adams rose to move the joint resolution. He knew that something special was expected of him; but he had prepared his remarks that morning and the night before “under some depression of spirits, and a diffidence of which I cannot divest myself;” and he was not easy. He referred to these feelings as he opened his speech.

I never rose to address this House under a deeper conviction of the want of words to express the emotions that I feel. It is precisely because occasions like this are adapted to produce universal sympathy, that little can be said by anyone, but what, in the language of the heart, in tones not loud but deep, every one present has silently said to himself.

Adams was obviously deeply moved; a reporter noticed that his face was flushed, his voice trembled with emotion.

The sword of WASHINGTON! The staff of FRANKLIN! Oh, sir, what associations are linked in adamant with those names! WASHINGTON, the warrior of human freedom -- WASHINGTON, whose sword . . . was never drawn but in the cause of his country, and never sheathed when needed in his country’s cause! FRANKLIN, the philosopher of the thunderbolt, the printing press, and the ploughshare! What names are these in the scanty catalogue of the benefactors of human kind! WASHINGTON and FRANKLIN! What other two men, whose lives belong to the eighteenth century of Christendom, have left a deeper impression of themselves upon the age in which they lived, and upon all after time! WASHINGTON, the warrior and the legislator! In war, contending by the wager of battle for the independence of his country, and for the freedom of the human race; ever manifesting, amidst its horrors, by precept and example, his reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest sympathies of humanity: in peace, soothing the ferocious spirit of discord, among his own countrymen, into harmony and union .... FRANKLIN! the mechanic of his own fortune, teaching, in early youth, under the shackles of indigence, the way to wealth, and in the shade of obscurity the path to greatness ... And, finally, in the last stage of life, with four score winters upon his head, under the torture of an incurable disease ... contributing by his counsels, under the presidency of WASHINGTON, and recording his name ... to that Constitution under the authority of which we are here assembled, as the Representatives of the North American People, to receive, in their name and for them, these venerable relics of the wise, the valiant, and the good founders of our great confederated Republic -- these sacred symbols of our golden age.

The motion was put and passed, and the House adjourned. Then occurred a remarkable scene, the unexpected eruption of pent-up emotion. Members of the House, spectators in the galleries, men, women, and children, rushed forward from every side to get a closer view of the sword and the cane. Not content only to look, they wanted to handle them, to hold them, at least to touch them. This was the emotion of republican religion, these were its sacred relics. “Demand after demand,” a reporter noted, “was made for a pleasure so grateful and so rare; and it was long before the Sergeant-at-Arms could rescue staff and falchion from the still eager hands that reluctantly gave them up to his custody.”

A similar scene occurred in the Senate the next day. The time would come, declared Senator Archer of Virginia, concluding his address, when Washington and Franklin “would be ... exalted as the benefactors of human kind ... and their fame the property of their whole race.” And again, the moment the Senate adjourned, the visitors poured into the Chamber to grasp and grip these relics of the founders.

No holier relics
Will Liberty hoard
Than FRANKLIN'S staff, guarded
By WASHINGTON’S sword.

So sang the poet George Pope Morris.

Here we may leave them -- Washington and Franklin, the soldier and the philosopher, the sword and the staff, symbols of the military and the civil virtues, relics of men so unlike, each preeminently unique, yet each the personification of character and ideals which their countrymen have rarely attained but never forgotten.