In the summer of 1771, Franklin had begun writing his autobiography at the home of Jonathan Shipley, an Anglican bishop who had five spirited daughters. Franklin delighted in the company of young women, and he had his wife send over a pet squirrel from America as a gift to the girls. When it met an untimely end the following year in the jaws of a dog, Franklin composed a flowery eulogy, that reflected on the perils of liberty, and then added a little epitaph that would become famous.
TO GEORGIANA SHIPLEY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1772
Dear Miss,
I lament with you most sincerely the unfortunate end of poor Mungo: few squirrels were better accomplished; for he had had a good education, had traveled far, and seen much of the world. As he had the honor of being for his virtues your favorite, he should not go like common Skuggs without an elegy or an epitaph. Let us give him one in the monumental stile and measure, which being neither prose nor verse, is perhaps the properest for grief; since to use common language would look as if we were not affected, and to make rhymes would seem trifling in sorrow.
Alas! poor Mungo!
Happy wert thou, hadst thou known
Thy own Felicity!
Remote from the fierce Bald-Eagle,
Tyrant of thy native Woods,
Thou hadst nought to fear from his piercing Talons;
Nor from the murdering Gun Of the thoughtless Sportsman.
Safe in thy wired Castle,
Grimalkin never could annoy thee.
Daily wert thou fed with the choicest Viands
By the fair Hand Of an indulgent Mistress.
But, discontented, thou wouldst have more Freedom.
Too soon, alas! didst thou obtain it,
And, wandering, Fell by the merciless Fangs,
Of wanton, cruel Ranger.
Learn hence, ye who blindly wish more Liberty,
Whether Subjects, Sons, Squirrels or Daughters,
That apparent Restraint may be real protection
Yielding Peace, Plenty, and Security.
You see how much more decent and proper this broken style, interrupted as it were with sighs, is for the occasion, than if one were to say, by way of epitaph,
Here Skugg Lies
Snug As a Bug In a Rug.
And yet perhaps there are people in the world of so little feeling as to think, that would be a good-enough Epitaph for our poor Mungo!
If you wish it, I shall procure another to succeed him. But perhaps you will now choose some other Amusement. Remember me respectfully to all the good Family; and believe me ever, Your affectionate Friend,