Bot-S: Memoirs of Benjamin Franklin

[Illustration: Benjamin Franklin

I am, Yours, B Franklin

New-York, Harper & Brothers.]

MEMOIRS

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN;

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

WITH HIS

MOST INTERESTING ESSAYS, LETTERS, AND MISCELLANEOUS
WRITINGS; FAMILIAR, MORAL, POLITICAL,
ECONOMICAL, AND PHILOSOPHICAL.

SELECTED WITH CARE

FROM ALL HIS PUBLISHED PRODUCTIONS, AND COMPRISING
WHATEVER IS MOST ENTERTAINING AND VALUABLE
TO THE GENERAL READER.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.

PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT.

It would be difficult, and perhaps impossible, to gather from the
history and labours of any individual mind, a summary of practical
wisdom as rich in varied instruction as the memoirs and writings
presented in these volumes will be found to afford. If, on account of
the most distinguished public services, the name of Franklin has become
inseparably associated with his country's glory, the works which he has
left behind him no less justly entitle him to be considered as the
benefactor not only of his own country, but of mankind for all coming
time. So admirable, indeed, are these productions, that they can only
cease being read when the love of beauty and of simplicity, of moral
power and of truth, has no longer a place in the hearts of men.

"This self-taught American," to quote from the Edinburgh Review of 1806,
"is the most rational, perhaps, of all philosophers. He never loses
sight of common sense in any of his speculations. No individual,
perhaps, ever possessed a juster understanding, or was so seldom
obstructed in the use of it by indolence, enthusiasm, or authority. * *
* * There are not many among the thoroughbred scholars and philosophers
of Europe who can lay claim to distinction in more than one or two
departments of science and literature. The uneducated tradesman of
America has left writings which call for our attention in natural
philosophy, in politics, in political economy, and in general literature
and morality." And again: "Nothing can be more perfectly and beautifully
adapted to its object than most of the moral compositions of Dr.
Franklin. The tone of familiarity, of good-will, and harmless
jocularity; the plain and pointed illustrations; the short sentences,
made up of short words; and the strong sense, clear information, and
obvious conviction of the author himself, make most of his moral
exhortations perfect models of popular eloquence, and often the finest
specimens of a style which has been too little cultivated in his native
country.

"The most remarkable thing, however, in these, and indeed in the whole
of his physical speculations, is the unparalleled simplicity and
facility with which the reader is conducted from one stage of the
inquiry to another. The author never appears for a moment to labour or
be at a loss. The most ingenious and profound explanations are
suggested, as if they were the most natural and obvious way of
accounting for the phenomena; and the author seems to value himself so
little on his most important discoveries, that it is necessary to
compare him with others before we can form a just notion of his merits."

While to every age these volumes cannot fail of being deeply
interesting, to the young more especially they may be made of invaluable
use. What an animating example do they present of the power of industry,
and of frugality and temperance, of moral rectitude, and unremitting
perseverance, to overcome every difficulty! And what youth, fired with
the generous love of knowledge, and an ardent desire of honourable
distinction, need ever despair of success after reading the memoirs of
Benjamin Franklin; who, from the humble station of a printer's
apprentice, without fortune or other extraneous aid, through a manly
confidence in his own powers, elevated himself to the highest stations
of honour and usefulness.

It is from these and other considerations scarcely less interesting,
that the publishers feel great confidence and pleasure in presenting
this work to the public favour. Great care has been taken in selecting
the matter of which these volumes are composed; and, it is believed,
that they will be found to comprise nearly all that is most entertaining
and useful to the general reader, in the writings of Franklin.

H. & B.

_New-York, Sept., 1839_.

CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

PART I.
Page
Life of Dr. Franklin, written by himself 13

PART II.

Letter from Mr. Abel James 91
Letter from Mr. Benjamin Vaughan 92
Continuation of Life, begun at Passy, near Paris, 1784 98
Memorandum 115

PART III.

Life of Franklin, continued by Dr. Stuber 191
Extracts from Franklin's Will 227

WRITINGS OF FRANKLIN.

The Examination of Dr. Franklin before the British House
of Commons, relative to the Repeal of the American
Stamp-act 237

Narrative of the Massacre of Friendly Indians in Lancaster
County, Pennsylvania, 1764 264

Introduction to Historical Review of the Constitution and
Government of Pennsylvania 282

Dr. Franklin's Motion for Prayers in the Convention at
Philadelphia, 1787, to revise the then existing Articles of
Confederation 286

MEMOIRS OF FRANKLIN.

PART I.

_To William Franklin, Esq., Governor of New-Jersey_

Twyford, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's,[1] 1771.

DEAR SON,--I have ever had a 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 learn the circumstances of _my_ life, many of which you are
unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a few weeks'
uninterrupted leisure, I sit down to write them. Besides, there are some
other inducements that excite me to this undertaking. From the poverty
and obscurity in which I was born, and in which I passed my earliest
years, I have raised myself to a state of affluence and some degree of
celebrity in the world. As constant good fortune has accompanied me even
to an advanced period of life, my posterity will perhaps be desirous of
learning the means which I employed, and which, thanks to Providence, so
well succeeded with me. They may also deem them fit to be imitated,
should any of them find themselves in similar circumstances. This good
fortune, when I reflect on it, which is frequently the case, has induced
me sometimes to say, that if it were left to my choice, I should have no
objection to go over the same life from its beginning to the end:
requesting only the advantage authors have, of correcting in a second
edition the faults of the first. So would I also wish to change some
incidents of it for others more favourable. Notwithstanding, if this
condition was denied, I should still accept the offer of recommencing
the same life. But as this repetition is not to be expected, that which
resembles most living one's life over again, seems to be to recall all
the circumstances of it; and, to render this remembrance more durable,
to record them in writing. In thus employing myself I shall yield to the
inclination so natural to old men, of talking of themselves and their
own actions; and I shall indulge it without being tiresome to those who,
from respect to my age, might conceive themselves obliged to listen to
me, since they will be always free to read me or not. And lastly (I may
as well confess it, as the denial of it would be believed by nobody), I
shall perhaps not a little gratify my own _vanity_. Indeed, I never
heard or saw the introductory words "_Without vanity_ I may say," &c.,
but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike vanity in
others, whatever share they 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 who 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 attribute the mentioned happiness of my past life to
his divine providence, which led me to the means I used and gave the
success. My belief of this induces me to _hope_, though I must not
_presume_, that the same goodness will still be exercised towards me, in
continuing that happiness or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse, which
I may experience as others have done; the complexion of my future
fortune being known to him only, in whose power it is to bless us, even
in our afflictions.

Some notes, one of my uncles (who had the same curiosity in collecting
family anecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me with several
particulars relative to our ancestors. From these notes I learned that
they lived in the same village, Ecton, in Northamptonshire, on a
freehold of about thirty acres, for at least three hundred years, and
how much longer could not be ascertained.[2]

This small estate would not have sufficed for their maintenance without
the business of a smith, which had continued in the family down to my
uncle's time, the eldest son being always brought up to that employment;
a custom which he and my father followed with regard to their eldest
sons. When I searched the registers at _Ecton_, I found an account of
their marriages and burials from the year 1555 only, as the registers
kept did not commence previous thereto. I however learned from it that I
was the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations back. My
grandfather Thomas, who was born 1598, lived at Ecton till he was too
old to continue his business, when he retired to Banbury in Oxfordshire,
to the house of his son John, with whom my father served an
apprenticeship. There my uncle died and lies buried. We saw his
gravestone in 1758. His eldest son Thomas lived in the house at Ecton,
and left it with the land to his only daughter, who, with her husband,
one Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord of the
manor there. My grandfather had four sons, who grew up: viz., Thomas,
John, Benjamin, and Josiah. Being at a distance from my papers, I will
give you what account I can of them from memory: and if my papers are
not lost in my absence, you will find among them many more
particulars.[3]

Thomas, my eldest uncle, was bred a smith under his father; but, being
ingenious, and encouraged in learning (as all my brothers were) by an
Esquire Palmer, then the principal inhabitant of that parish, he
qualified himself for the bar, and became a considerable man in the
county; was chief mover of all public-spirited enterprises for the
county or town of Northampton, as well as of his own village, of which
many instances were related of him: and he was much taken notice of, and
patronised by Lord Halifax. He died in 1702, the 6th of January; four
years to a day before I was born. The recital which some elderly persons
made to us of his character, I remember, struck you as something
extraordinary, from its similarity with what you knew of me. "Had he
died," said you, "four years later, on the same day, one might have
supposed a transmigration." John, my next uncle, was bred a dyer, I
believe of wool. Benjamin was bred a silk dyer, serving an
apprenticeship in London. He was an ingenious man. I remember, when I
was a boy, he came to my father's in Boston, and resided in the house
with us for several years. There was always a particular affection
between my father and him, and I was his godson. He lived to a great
age. He left behind him two quarto volumes of manuscript, of his own
poetry, consisting of fugitive pieces addressed to his friends. He had
invented a shorthand of his own, which he taught me, but, not having
practised it, I have now forgotten it. He was very pious, and an
assiduous attendant at the sermons of the best preachers, which he
reduced to writing according to his method, and had thus collected
several volumes of them. He was also a good deal of a politician; too
much so, perhaps, for his station. There fell lately into my hands in
London, a collection he made of all the principal political pamphlets
relating to public affairs, from the year 1641 to 1717; many of the
volumes are wanting, as appears by their numbering, but there still
remain eight volumes in folio, and twenty in quarto and in octavo. A
dealer in old books had met with them, and knowing me by name, having
bought books of him, he brought them to me. It would appear that my
uncle must have left them here when he went to America, which was about
fifty years ago. I found several of his notes in the margins. His
grandson, Samuel Franklin, is still living in Boston.

Our humble family early embraced the reformed religion. Our forefathers
continued Protestants through the reign of Mary, when they were
sometimes in danger of persecution on account of their zeal against
popery. They had an English Bible, and to conceal it, and place it in
safety, it was fastened open with tapes under and within the cover of a
joint-stool. When my great-grandfather wished to read it to his family,
he placed the joint-stool on his knees, and then turned over the leaves
under the tapes. One of the children stood at the door to give notice if
he saw the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the spiritual court.
In that case the stool was turned down again upon its feet, when the
Bible remained concealed under it as before. This anecdote I had from
uncle Benjamin. The family continued all of the Church of England till
about the end of Charles the Second's reign, when some of the ministers
that had been outed for their nonconformity holding conventicles in
Northamptonshire, my uncle Benjamin and father Josiah adhered to them,
and so continued all their lives: the rest of the family remained with
the Episcopal church.

My father married young, and carried his wife with three children to
New-England, about 1682. The conventicles being at that time forbidden
by law, and frequently disturbed in their meetings, some considerable
men of his acquaintance determined to go to that country, and he was
prevailed with to accompany them thither, where they expected to enjoy
the exercise of their religion with freedom. By the same wife my father
had four children more born there, and by a second wife ten others, in
all seventeen; of which I remember to have seen thirteen sitting
together at his table, who all grew up to years of maturity, and were
married; I was the youngest son, and the youngest of all except two
daughters. I was born in Boston, in New-England. My mother, the second
wife of my father, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one of
the first settlers of New-England, of whom honourable mention is made by
Cotton Mather, in his ecclesiastical history of the country, entitled
_Magnalia Christi Americana_, as "a goodly and learned Englishman," if I
remember the words rightly. I was informed he wrote several small
occasional works, but only one of them was printed, which I remember to
have seen several years since. It was written in 1675. It was in
familiar verse, according to the taste of the times and people, and
addressed to the government there. It asserts the liberty of conscience,
in behalf of the Anabaptists, the Quakers, and other sectarians that had
been persecuted. He attributes to this persecution the Indian wars, and
other calamities that had befallen the country; regarding them as so
many judgments of God, to punish so heinous an offence, so contrary to
charity. This piece appeared to me as written with manly freedom and a
pleasing simplicity. The last six lines I remember, but have forgotten
the preceding ones of the stanza; the purpose of them was, that his
censures proceeded from good-will, and, therefore, he would be known to
be the author.

"Because to be a libeller (said he)
I hate it with my heart;
From Sherburne[4] town, where now I dwell,
My name I do put here;
Without offence your real friend,
It is Peter Folgier."

My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. I was
put to the grammar-school at eight years of age; my father intended to
devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of the church. My
early readiness in learning to read (which must have been very early,
and I do not remember when I could not read), and the opinion of all my
friends, that I should certainly make a good scholar, encouraged him in
this purpose of his. My uncle Benjamin, too, approved of it, and
proposed to give me his shorthand volumes of sermons to set up with, if
I would learn shorthand.

I continued, however, at the grammar-school rather less than a year,
though in that time I had risen gradually from the middle of the class
of that year to be at the head of the same class, and was removed into
the next class, whence I was to be placed in the third at the end of the
year. But my father, burdened with a numerous family, was unable,
without inconvenience, to support the expense of a college education;
considering, moreover, as he said to one of his friends in my presence,
the little encouragement that line of life afforded to those educated
for it, he gave up his first intentions, took me from the
grammar-school, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept
by a then famous man, Mr. George Brownwell. He was a skilful master, and
successful in his profession, employing the mildest and most encouraging
methods. Under him I learned to write a good hand pretty soon, but
failed entirely in arithmetic. At ten years old I was taken to help my
father in his business of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler, a business
to which he was not bred, but had assumed on his arrival in New-England,
because he found that his dying trade, being in little request, would
not maintain his family. Accordingly, I was employed in cutting the
wick for the candles, filling the moulds for cast candles, attending the
shop, going of errands, &c.

I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination to go to sea, but my
father declared against it; but, residing near the water, I was much in
it and on it. I learned to swim well, and to manage boats; and when
embarked with other boys, I was commonly allowed to govern, especially
in any case of difficulty; and upon other occasions I was generally the
leader among the boys, and sometimes led them into scrapes, of which I
will mention an instance, as it shows an early projecting public spirit,
though not then justly conducted.

There was a salt-marsh which bounded part of the millpond, on the edge
of which, at high water, we used to stand to fish for minnows; by much
trampling, we had made it a mere quagmire. My proposal was to build a
wharf there for us to stand upon, and I showed my comrades a large heap
of stones, which were intended for a new house near the marsh, and which
would very well suit our purpose. Accordingly, in the evening, when the
workmen were gone home, I assembled a number of my playfellows, and we
worked diligently like so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a
stone, till we had brought them all to make our little wharf. The next
morning the workmen were surprised on missing the stones which formed
our wharf; inquiry was made after the authors of this transfer; we were
discovered, complained of, and corrected by our fathers; and though I
demonstrated the utility of our work, mine convinced me that _that which
was not truly honest could not be truly useful_.

I suppose you may like to know what kind of a man my father was. He had
an excellent constitution, was of a middle stature, well set, and very
strong: he could draw prettily, was a little skilled in music; his voice
was sonorous and agreeable, so that when he played on his violin and
sung withal, as he was accustomed to do after the business of the day
was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear. He had some knowledge of
mechanics, and, on occasion, was very handy with other tradesmen's
tools; but his great excellence was his sound understanding and solid
judgment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs. It
is true, he was never employed in the latter, the numerous family he had
to educate and the strictness of his circumstances keeping him close to
his trade: but I remember well his being frequently visited by leading
men, who consulted him for his opinion in public affairs, and those of
the church he belonged to, and who showed great respect for his judgment
and advice: he was also much consulted by private persons about their
affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an
arbitrator between contending parties. At his table he liked to have, as
often as he could, some sensible friend or neighbour to converse with,
and always took care to start some ingenious or useful topic for
discourse, which might tend to improve the minds of his children. By
this means he turned our attention to what was good, just, and prudent
in the conduct of life; and little or no notice was ever taken of what
related to the victuals on the table, whether it was well or ill
dressed, in or out of season, of good or bad flavour, preferable or
inferior to this or that other thing of the kind, so that I was brought
up in such a perfect inattention to those matters as to be quite
indifferent as to what kind of food was set before me. Indeed, I am so
unobservant of it, that to this day I can scarce tell a few hours after
dinner of what dishes it consisted. This has been a great convenience to
me in travelling, where my companions have been sometimes very unhappy
for want of a suitable gratification of their more delicate, because
better instructed, tastes and appetites.

My mother had likewise an excellent constitution: she suckled all her
ten children. I never knew either my father or mother to have any
sickness but that of which they died, he at 89, and she at 85 years of
age. They lie buried together at Boston, where I some years since placed
a marble over their grave with this inscription:

JOSIAH FRANKLIN,
and
ABIAH, his wife,
lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock
fifty-five years.
And without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labour and honest industry,
maintained a large family comfortably,
and brought up thirteen children and seven grandchildren
respectably.
From this instance, reader,
Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man;
She a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son,
In filial regard to their memory,
Places this stone.
J. F. born 1655, died 1744, Ætas 89.
A. F. ---- 1667, ---- 1752, ---- 85.

By my rambling digressions, I perceive myself to be grown old. I used to
write more methodically. But one does not dress for private company as
for a public ball. Perhaps it is only negligence.

To return: I continued thus employed in my father's business for two
years, that is, till I was twelve years old; and my brother John, who
was bred to that business, having left my father, married and set up for
himself at Rhode Island, there was every appearance that I was destined
to supply his place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my dislike to the
trade continuing, my father had apprehensions that if he did not put me
to one more agreeable, I should break loose and go to sea, as my
brother Josiah had done to his great vexation. In consequence, he took
me to walk with him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers,
&c., at their work, that he might observe my inclination, and endeavour
to fix it on some trade or profession that would keep me on land. It has
ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools;
and it has been often useful to me to have learned so much by it as to
be able to do some trifling jobs in the house when a workman was not at
hand, and to construct little machines for my experiments, at the moment
when the intention of making them was warm in my mind. My father
determined at last for the cutlers' trade, and placed me for some days
on trial with Samuel, son to my uncle Benjamin, who was bred to that
trade in London, and had just established himself in Boston. But the sum
he exacted as a fee for my apprenticeship displeased my father, and I
was taken home again. From my infancy I was passionately fond of
reading, and all the money that came into my hands was laid out in the
purchasing of books. I was very fond of voyages. My first acquisition
was _Bunyan's_ works in separate little volumes. I afterward sold them
to enable me to buy _R. Burton's Historical Collections_; they were
small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40 volumes in all. My father's little
library consisted chiefly of books in polemic divinity, most of which I
read. I have often regretted that, at a time when I had such a thirst
for knowledge, more proper books had not fallen into my way, since it
was resolved I should not be bred to divinity; there was among them
Plutarch's Lives, which I read abundantly, and I still think that time
spent to great advantage. There was also a book of _De Foe's_, called an
_Essay on Projects_, and another of _Dr. Mather's_, called an _Essay to
do good_, which perhaps gave me a turn of thinking that had an
influence on some of the principal future events of my life.

This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make me a
printer, though he had already one son (James) of that profession. In
1717 my brother James returned from England with a press and letters to
set up his business in Boston. I liked it much better than that of my
father, but still had a hankering for the sea. To prevent the
apprehended effect of such an inclination, my father was impatient to
have me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at last was
persuaded, and signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve years
old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was twenty-one years of age,
only I was to be allowed journeyman's wages during the last year. In a
little time I made a great progress in the business, and became a useful
hand to my brother. I had now access to better books. An acquaintance
with the apprentices of booksellers enabled me sometimes to borrow a
small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean. Often I sat up
in my chamber the greatest part of the night, when the book was borrowed
in the evening to be returned in the morning, lest it should be found
missing. After some time a merchant, an ingenious, sensible man, Mr.
Matthew Adams, who had a pretty collection of books, frequented our
printing-office, took notice of me, and invited me to see his library,
and very kindly proposed to lend me such books as I chose to read. I now
took a strong inclination for poetry, and wrote some little pieces; my
brother, supposing it might turn to account, encouraged me, and induced
me to compose two occasional ballads. One was called the _Lighthouse
Tragedy_, and contained an account of the shipwreck of Captain
Worthilake, with his two daughters: the other was a sailor's song, on
the taking of the famous _Teach_ (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were
wretched stuff, in street-ballad style; and when they were printed, my
brother sent me about the town to sell them. The first sold
prodigiously, the event being recent, and having made a great noise.
This success flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me, by
criticising my performances, and telling me verse-makers were generally
beggars. Thus I escaped being a poet, and probably a very bad one: but
as prose writing has been of great use to me in the course of my life,
and was a principal means of my advancement, I shall tell you how, in
such a situation, I acquired what little ability I may be supposed to
have in that way.

There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins by name, with
whom I was intimately acquainted. We sometimes disputed, and very fond
we were of argument, and very desirous of confuting one another, which
disputatious turn, by-the-way, is apt to become a very bad habit, making
people often extremely disagreeable in company, by the contradiction
that is necessary to bring it into practice; and thence, besides souring
and spoiling the conversation, it is productive of disgusts and,
perhaps, enmities with those who may have occasion for friendship. I had
caught this by reading my father's books of disputes on religion.
Persons of good sense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it,
except lawyers, university men, and, generally, men of all sorts who
have been bred at Edinburgh. A question was once some how or other
started, between Collins and me, on the propriety of educating the
female sex in learning, and their abilities for study. He was of opinion
that it was improper, and that they were naturally unequal to it. I took
the contrary side, perhaps for dispute' sake. He was naturally more
eloquent, having a greater plenty of words; and sometimes, as I thought,
I was vanquished more by his fluency than by the strength of his
reasons. As we parted without settling the point, and were not to see
one another again for some time, I sat down to put my arguments in
writing, which I copied fair and sent to him. He answered, and I
replied. Three or four letters on a side had passed, when my father
happened to find my papers and read them. Without entering into the
subject in dispute, he took occasion to talk to me about my manner of
writing; observed that, though I had the advantage of my antagonist in
correct spelling and pointing (which he attributed to the
printing-house), I fell far short in elegance of expression, in method,
and perspicuity, of which he convinced me by several instances. I saw
the justice of his remarks, and thence grew more attentive to my manner
of writing, and determined to endeavour to improve my style.

About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. I had never
before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, and was
much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, if
possible, to imitate it. With that view I took some of the papers, and,
making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a
few days, and then, without looking at the book, tried to complete the
papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length and as fully
as it had been expressed before in any suitable words that should occur
to me. Then I compared my Spectator with an original, discovered some of
my faults, and corrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or
a readiness in recollecting and using them, which I thought I should
have acquired before that time if I had gone on making verses; since the
continual search for words of the same import, but of different lengths,
to suit the measure, or of different sounds for the rhyme, would have
laid me under a constant necessity of searching for variety, and also
have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it.
Therefore I took some of the tales in the Spectator, and turned them
into verse: and after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the
prose, turned them back again. I also sometimes jumbled my collection of
hints into confusion, and after some weeks endeavoured to reduce them
into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and
complete the subject. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of
the thoughts. By comparing my work with the original, I discovered many
faults and corrected them; but I sometimes had the pleasure to fancy
that, in particulars of small consequence, I had been fortunate enough
to improve the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think
that I might in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I
was extremely ambitious. The time I allotted for writing exercises and
for reading was at night, or before work began in the morning, or on
Sunday, when I contrived to be in the printing-house, avoiding as much
as I could the constant attendance at public worship which my father
used to exact from me when I was under his care, and which I still
continued to consider as a duty, though I could not afford time to
practise it.

When about sixteen years of age I happened to meet with another book,
written by one Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet. I determined to go
into it. My brother, being yet unmarried, did not keep house, but
boarded himself and his apprentices in another family. My refusing to
eat flesh occasioned an inconvenience, and I was frequently chid for my
singularity. I made myself acquainted with Tryon's manner of preparing
some of his dishes, such as boiling potatoes or rice, making hasty
pudding, and a few others, and then proposed to my brother if he would
give me, weekly, half the money he paid for my board, I would board
myself. He instantly agreed to it, and I presently found that I could
save half what he paid me.

This was an additional fund for buying of books. But I had another
advantage in it. My brother and the rest going from the printing-office
to their meals, I remained there alone; and despatching presently my
light repast, which was often no more than a biscuit, or a slice of
bread and a handful of raisins, a tart from the pastry-cook's, and a
glass of water, I had the rest of the time till their return for study,
in which I made the greater progress, from that clearness of head and
quick apprehension which generally attends temperance in eating and
drinking.

Now it was that, being on some occasion made ashamed of my ignorance in
figures, which I had twice failed learning when at school, I took
_Cocker's_ book on arithmetic, and went through the whole by myself with
the greatest ease. I also read _Sellers_ and _Sturny's_ book on
navigation, which made me acquainted with the little geometry it
contained; but I never proceeded far in that science. I read about this
time _Locke on the Human Understanding_, and the _Art of Thinking_, by
Messrs. du Port Royal.

While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an English
grammar (I think it was Greenwood's) having at the end of it two little
sketches on the arts of rhetoric and logic, the latter finishing with a
dispute in the Socratic method; and soon after I procured Xenophon's
_Memorable Things of Socrates_, wherein there are many examples of the
same method. I was charmed by it, adopted it, dropped my abrupt
contradiction and positive argumentation, and put on the humble
inquirer; and being then, from reading _Shaftesbury_ and _Collins_, made
a doubter, as I already was in many points of our religious doctrines, I
found this method the safest for myself and very embarrassing to those
against whom I used it; therefore I took delight in it, practised it
continually, and grew very artful and expert in drawing people, even of
superior knowledge, into concessions, the consequences of which they
did not foresee; entangling them in difficulties, out of which they
could not extricate themselves, and so obtaining victories that neither
myself nor my cause always deserved. I continued this method some few
years, but gradually left it, retaining only the habit of expressing
myself in terms of modest diffidence; never using, when I advanced
anything that might possibly be disputed, the word _certainly_,
_undoubtedly_, or any other that gave the air of positiveness to an
opinion; but rather said, I _conceive_ or _apprehend_ a thing to be so
and so; it _appears to me_, or I should not think it is so, for such and
such reasons; or I _imagine it to be so_; or _it is so, if I am not
mistaken_. This habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to me when
I have had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into
measures that I have been from time to time engaged in promoting; and,
as the chief ends of conversation are to _inform_ or to be _informed_,
to _please_ or to _persuade_, I wish well-meaning and sensible men would
not lessen their power of doing good by a positive, assuming manner,
that seldom fails to disgust, tends to create opposition, and to defeat
most of those purposes for which speech was given to us.

In fact, if you wish to instruct others, a positive and dogmatical
manner in advancing your sentiments may occasion opposition and prevent
a candid attention. If you desire improvement from others, you should
not, at the same time, express yourself fixed in your present opinions;
modest and sensible men, who do not love disputations, will leave you
undisturbed in the possession of your errors. In adopting such a manner,
you can seldom expect to please your hearers, or obtain the concurrence
you desire. Pope judiciously observes,

"Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown proposed as things forgot."

He also recommends it to us,

"To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence."

And he might have joined with this line that which he has coupled with
another, I think, less properly.

"For want of modesty is want of sense."

If you ask why less properly, I must repeat the lines,

"Immodest words admit of _no defence_,
For want of modesty is want of sense."

Now is not the _want of sense_ (where a man is so unfortunate as to want
it) some apology for his _want of modesty_? and would not the lines
stand more justly thus?

"Immodest words admit _but this defence_,
That _want of modesty_ is want of sense."

This, however, I should submit to better judgments.

My brother had, in 1720 or 21, began to print a newspaper. It was the
second that appeared in America, and was called the _New-England
Courant_. The only one before it was the _Boston News-Letter_. I
remember his being dissuaded by some of his friends from the
undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one newspaper being, in their
judgment, enough for America. At this time (1771) there are not less
than _five-and-twenty_.[5] He went on, however, with the undertaking; I
was employed to carry the papers to the customers, after having worked
in composing the types and printing off the sheets. He had some
ingenious men among his friends, who amused themselves by writing little
pieces for his paper, which gained it credit and made it more in demand,
and these gentlemen often visited us.

Hearing their conversations and their accounts of the approbation their
papers were received with, I was excited to try my hand among them; but
being still a boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to
printing anything of mine in his paper if he knew it to be mine, I
contrived to disguise my hand, and, writing an anonymous paper, I put it
at night under the door of the printing-house. It was found in the
morning, and committed to his writing friends when they called in as
usual. They read it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had the
exquisite pleasure of finding it had met with their approbation, and
that, in their different guesses at the author, none were named but men
of some character among us for learning and ingenuity. I suppose that I
was rather lucky in my judges, and they were not really so very good as
I then believed them to be.

Encouraged, however, by this attempt, I wrote and sent in the same way
to the press several other pieces that were equally approved; and I kept
my secret till all my fund of sense for such performances was exhausted,
and then discovered it, when I began to be considered with a little more
attention by my brother's acquaintance. However, that did not quite
please him, as he thought it tended to make me too vain. This might be
one occasion of the differences we began to have about this time. Though
a brother, he considered himself as my master, and me as his apprentice,
and, accordingly, expected the same services from me as he would from
another, while I thought he degraded me too much in some he required of
me, who from a brother required more indulgence. Our disputes were often
brought before our father, and I fancy I was either generally in the
right, or else a better pleader, because the judgment was generally in
my favour. But my brother was passionate, and had often beaten me, which
I took extremely amiss; and thinking my apprenticeship very tedious, I
was continually wishing for some opportunity of shortening it, which at
length offered in a manner unexpected.

Perhaps the harsh and tyrannical treatment of me might be a means of
impressing me with the aversion to arbitrary power that has stuck to me
through my whole life.

One of the pieces in our newspaper on some political point, which I have
now forgotten, gave offence to the Assembly. He was taken up, censured,
and imprisoned for a month, by the speaker's warrant, I suppose, because
he would not discover the author. I, too, was taken up and examined
before the council: but though I did not give them any satisfaction,
they contented themselves with admonishing me, and dismissed me,
considering me, perhaps, as an apprentice, who was bound to keep his
master's secrets.

During my brother's confinement, which I resented a good deal
notwithstanding our differences, I had the management of the paper; and
I made bold to give our rulers some rubs in it, which my brother took
very kindly, while others began to consider me in an unfavourable light,
as a youth that had a turn for libelling and satire. My brother's
discharge was accompanied with an order (and a very odd one), that
"James Franklin should no longer print the newspaper called the
New-England Courant."

On a consultation held in our printing-office among his friends, what he
should do in this conjuncture, it was proposed to elude the order by
changing the name of the paper; but my brother, seeing inconveniences in
this, came to a conclusion, as a better way, to let the paper in future
be printed in the name of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN: and in order to avoid the
censure of the Assembly, that might fall on him as still printing it by
his apprentice, he contrived and consented that my old indenture should
be returned to me, with a discharge on the back of it, to show in case
of necessity; and, in order to secure to him the benefit of my service,
I should sign new indentures for the remainder of my time, which was to
be kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was; however, it was
immediately executed, and the paper was printed, accordingly, under my
name for several months. At length, a fresh difference arising between
my brother and me, I took upon me to assert my freedom, presuming that
he would not venture to produce the new indentures. It was not fair in
me to take this advantage, and this I therefore reckon as one of the
first errata of my life; but the unfairness of it weighed little with
me, when under the impression of resentment for the blows his passion
too often urged him to bestow upon me; though he was otherwise not an
ill-natured man: perhaps I was too saucy and provoking.

When he found I would leave him, he took care to prevent my getting
employment in any other printing-house in town, by going round and
speaking to every master, who accordingly refused to give me work. I
then thought of going to New-York, as the nearest place where there was
a printer; and I was rather inclined to leave Boston, when I reflected
that I had already made myself a little obnoxious to the governing
party, and, from the arbitrary proceedings of the Assembly in my
brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stayed, soon bring myself
into scrapes; and farther, that my indiscreet disputations about
religion began to make me pointed at with horror by good people, as an
infidel or atheist. I concluded, therefore, to remove to New-York; but
my father now siding with my brother, I was sensible, that if I
attempted to go openly, means would be used to prevent me. My friend
Collins, therefore, undertook to manage my flight. He agreed with the
captain of a New-York sloop to take me. I sold my books to raise a
little money, was taken on board the sloop privately, had a fair wind,
and in three days found myself at New-York, near three hundred miles
from my home, at the age of seventeen, without the least recommendation
or knowledge of any person in the place, and very little money in my
pocket.

The inclination I had felt for the sea was by this time done away, or I
might now have gratified it. But having another profession, and
conceiving myself a pretty good workman, I offered my services to a
printer of the place, old Mr W. Bradford, who had been the first printer
in Pennsylvania, but had removed thence, in consequence of a quarrel
with the governor, General Keith. He could give me no employment, having
little to do, and hands enough already. But he said, "My son, at
Philadelphia, has lately lost his principal hand, Aquilla Rose, by
death; if you go thither, I believe he may employ you." Philadelphia was
one hundred miles farther; I set out, however, in a boat for Amboy,
leaving my chest and things to follow me round by sea. In crossing the
bay we met with a squall that tore our rotten sails to pieces, prevented
our getting into the kill, and drove us upon Long Island. In our way, a
drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too, fell overboard; when he was
sinking, I reached through the water to his shock pate, and drew him up,
so that we got him in again. His ducking sobered him a little, and he
went to sleep, taking first out of his pocket a book which he desired I
would dry for him. It proved to be my old favourite author, _Bunyan's
Pilgrim's Progress_, in Dutch, finely printed on good paper, copper
cuts, a dress better than I had ever seen it wear in its own language. I
have since found that it has been translated into most of the languages
of Europe, and suppose it has been more generally read than any other
book, except perhaps the Bible. Honest John was the first that I know of
who mixed narration and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging to
the reader, who, in the most interesting parts, finds himself, as it
were, admitted into the company and present at the conversation. _De
Foe_ has imitated him successfully in his Robinson Crusoe, in his Moll
Flanders, and other pieces; and _Richardson_ has done the same in his
Pamela, &c.

On approaching the island, we found it was in a place where there could
be no landing, there being a great surf on the stony beach. So we
dropped anchor, and swung out our cable towards the shore. Some people
came down to the shore and hallooed to us, as we did to them, but the
wind was so high and the surf so loud that we could not understand each
other. There were some small boats near the shore, and we made signs,
and called to them to fetch us; but they either did not comprehend us,
or it was impracticable, so they went off. Night approaching, we had no
remedy but to have patience till the wind abated, and, in the mean time,
the boatmen and myself concluded to sleep if we could; and so we crowded
into the hatches, where we joined the Dutchman, who was still wet, and
the spray breaking over the head of our boat, leaked through to us, so
that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this manner we lay all night
with very little rest; but the wind abating the next day, we made a
shift to reach Amboy before night, having been thirty hours on the
water, without victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum, the
water we sailed on being salt.

In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went to bed; but having
read somewhere that cold water drank plentifully was good for a fever, I
followed the prescription, and sweat plentifully most of the night: my
fever left me, and in the morning crossing the ferry, I proceeded on my
journey on foot, having fifty miles to Burlington, where I was told I
should find boats that would carry me the rest of the way to
Philadelphia.

It rained very hard all the day; I was thoroughly soaked, and by noon a
good deal tired, so I stopped at a poor inn, where I stayed all night,
beginning now to wish I had never left home. I made so miserable a
figure too, that I found, by the questions asked me, I was suspected to
be some runaway indentured servant, and in danger of being taken up on
that suspicion. However, I proceeded next day, and got in the evening to
an inn within eight or ten miles of Burlington, kept by one Dr. Brown.
He entered into conversation with me while I took some refreshment, and,
finding I had read a little, became very obliging and friendly. Our
acquaintance continued all the rest of his life. He had been, I imagine,
an ambulatory quack doctor, for there was no town in England, or any
country in Europe, of which he could not give a very particular account.
He had some letters, and was ingenious; but he was an infidel, and
wickedly undertook, some years after, to turn the Bible into doggerel
verse, as Cotton had formerly done with Virgil. By this means he set
many facts in a ridiculous light, and might have done mischief with weak
minds if his work had been published; but it never was. At his house I
lay that night, and arrived the next morning at Burlington, but had the
mortification to find that the regular boats had gone a little before,
and no other expected to go before Tuesday, this being Saturday.
Wherefore I returned to an old woman in the town, of whom I had bought
some gingerbread to eat on the water, and asked her advice; she proposed
to lodge me till a passage by some other boat occurred. I accepted her
offer, being much fatigued by travelling on foot. Understanding I was a
printer, she would have had me remain in that town and follow my
business, being ignorant what stock was necessary to begin with. She was
very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheek with a great good-will,
accepting only of a pot of ale in return; and I thought myself fixed
till Tuesday should come. However, walking in the evening by the side of
the river, a boat came by which I found was going towards Philadelphia,
with several people in her. They took me in, and as there was no wind,
we rowed all the way; and about midnight, not having yet seen the city,
some of the company were confident we must have passed it, and would row
no farther: the others knew not where we were, so we put towards the
shore, got into a creek, landed near an old fence, with the rails of
which we made a fire, the night being cold, in October, and there we
remained till daylight. Then one of the company knew the place to be
Cooper's Creek, a little above Philadelphia, which we saw as soon as we
got out of the creek, and arrived there about eight or nine o'clock, on
the Sunday morning, and landed at Market-street wharf.

I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and
shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mind
compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since made
there. I was in my working dress, my best clothes coming round by sea. I
was dirty, from my being so long in the boat; my pockets were stuffed
out with shirts and stockings, and I knew no one, nor where to look for
lodging. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and the want of sleep, I was
very hungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted in a single dollar,
and about a shilling in copper coin, which I gave to the boatmen for my
passage. At first they refused it on account of my having rowed, but I
insisted on their taking it. Man is sometimes more generous when he has
little money than when he has plenty; perhaps to prevent his being
thought to have but little. I walked towards the top of the street,
gazing about, still in Market-street, where I met a boy with bread. I
had often made a meal of dry bread, and inquiring where he had bought
it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to. I asked for
biscuits, meaning such as we had at Boston: that sort, it seems, was not
made in Philadelphia. I then asked for a threepenny loaf, and was told
they had none. Not knowing the different prices, nor the names of the
different sorts of bread, I told him to give me threepenny worth of any
sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surprised
at the quantity, but took it, and having no room in my pockets, walked
off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up
Market-street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the door of Mr. Read,
my future wife's father; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and
thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous
appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut-street and part of
Walnut-street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found
myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I
went for a draught of the river water; and, being filled with one of my
rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down the
river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus
refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had many
clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way: I joined
them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the Quakers
near the market. I sat down among them, and after looking round awhile,
and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy, through labour and want of
rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the
meeting broke up, when some one was kind enough to rouse me. This,
therefore, was the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.

I then walked down towards the river, and looking in the faces of every
one, I met a young Quaker man whose countenance pleased me, and,
accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could get a
lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners. "Here," said
he, "is a house where they receive strangers, but it is not a reputable
one; if thou wilt walk with me, I'll show thee a better one;" and he
conducted me to the Crooked Billet in Water-street. There I got a
dinner; and, while I was eating, several questions were asked me, as
from my youth and appearance I was suspected of being a runaway. After
dinner, my host having shown me to a bed, I lay myself on it, without
undressing, and slept till six in the evening, when I was called to
supper. I went to bed again very early, and slept very soundly till next
morning. Then I dressed myself as neat as I could, and went to Andrew
Bradford, the printer's. I found in the shop the old man, his father,
whom I had seen at New-York, and who, travelling on horseback, had got
to Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, who received me
civilly, gave me a breakfast, and told me he did not at present want a
hand, being lately supplied with one: but there was another printer in
town lately set up, one Keimer, who perhaps might employ me; if not, I
should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little
work to do now and then, till fuller business should offer.

The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer; and when
we found him, "Neighbour," said Bradford, "I have brought to see you a
young man of your business; perhaps you may want such a one." He asked
me a few questions, put a composing stick in my hand to see how I
worked, and then said he would employ me soon, though he had just then
nothing for me to do; and taking old Bradford, whom he had never seen
before, to be one of the town's people that had a good will for him,
entered into conversation on his present undertaking and prospects;
while Bradford (not discovering that he was the other printer's
father), on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get the greatest part of
the business into his own hands, drew him on by artful questions, and
starting little doubts, to explain all his views, what influence he
relied on, and in what manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood by
and heard all, saw immediately that one was a crafty old sophister, and
the other a true novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly
surprised when I told him who the old man was.

The printing-house, I found, consisted of an old damaged press, and a
small worn-out fount of English types which he was using himself,
composing an elegy on Aquilla Rose, before mentioned; an ingenious young
man, of excellent character, much respected in the town, secretary to
the Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer made verses too, but very
indifferently. He could not be said to _write_ them, for his method was
to _compose_ them in the types directly out of his head; there being no
copy, but one pair of cases, and the elegy probably requiring all the
letter, no one could help him. I endeavoured to put his press (which he
had not yet used, and of which he understood nothing) into order to be
worked with; and, promising to come and print off his elegy as soon as
he should have got it ready, I returned to Bradford's, who gave me a
little job to do for the present, and there I lodged and dieted. A few
days after Keimer sent for me to print off the elegy. And now he had got
another pair of cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he set me to
work.

These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business. Bradford
had been bred to it, and was very illiterate; and Keimer, though
something of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing nothing of
presswork. He had been one of the French prophets, and could act their
enthusiastic agitations. At this time he did not profess any particular
religion, but something of all on occasion; was very ignorant of the
world, and had, as I afterward found, a good deal of the knave in his
composition. He did not like my lodging at Bradford's while I worked
with him. He had a house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could not
lodge me; but he got me a lodging at Mr. Read's, before mentioned, who
was the owner of his house; and my chest of clothes being come by this
time, I made rather a more respectable appearance in the eyes of Miss
Read than I had done when she first happened to see me eating my roll in
the street.

I began now to have some acquaintance among the young people of the town
that were lovers of reading, with whom I spent my evenings very
pleasantly, and gained money by my industry and frugality. I lived very
contented, and forgot Boston as much as I could, and did not wish it
should be known where I resided, except to my friend Collins, who was in
the secret, and kept it faithfully. At length, however, an incident
happened that occasioned my return home much sooner than I had intended.
I had a brother-in-law, Robert Holmes, master of a sloop that traded
between Boston and Delaware. He being at Newcastle, forty miles below
Philadelphia, and hearing of me, wrote me a letter, mentioning the grief
of my relations and friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, assuring
me of their good-will towards me, and that everything would be
accommodated to my mind if I would return, to which he entreated me
earnestly. I wrote an answer to his letter, thanking him for his advice,
but stated my reasons for quitting Boston so fully, and in such a light,
as to convince him that I was not so much in the wrong as he had
apprehended.

Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was then at Newcastle, and
Captain Holmes happening to be in company with him when my letter came
to hand, spoke to him of me, and showed him the letter. The governor
read it, and seemed surprised when he was told my age. He said I
appeared a young man of promising parts, and, therefore, should be
encouraged: the printers at Philadelphia were wretched ones, and if I
would set up there, he made no doubt I should succeed; for his part, he
would procure me the public business, and do me every other service in
his power. This my brother-in-law Holmes afterward told me in Boston,
but I knew as yet nothing of it; when one day, Keimer and I being at
work together near the window, we saw the governor and another gentleman
(who proved to be Colonel French, of Newcastle, in the province of
Delaware), finely dressed, come directly across the street to our house,
and heard them at the door. Keimer ran down immediately, thinking it a
visit to him; but the governor inquired for me, came up, and, with a
condescension and politeness I had been quite unused to, made me many
compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, blamed me kindly for not
having made myself known to him when I first came to the place, and
would have me away with him to the tavern, where he was going with
Colonel French to taste, as he said, some excellent Madeira. I was not a
little surprised, and Keimer stared with astonishment. I went, however,
with the governor and Colonel French to a tavern at the corner of
Third-street, and over the Madeira he proposed my setting up my
business. He stated the probabilities of my success, and both he and
Colonel French assured me I should have their interest and influence to
obtain for me the public business of both governments. And as I
expressed doubts that my father would assist me in it, Sir William said
he would give me a letter to him, in which he would set forth the
advantages, and he did not doubt he should determine him to comply. So
it was concluded I should return to Boston by the first vessel, with
the governor's letter to my father. In the mean time it was to be kept a
secret, and I went on working with Keimer as usual. The governor sent
for me now and then to dine with him, which I considered a great honour,
more particularly as he conversed with me in the most affable, familiar,
and friendly manner.

About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel offered for Boston. I took
leave of Keimer as going to see my friends. The governor gave me an
ample letter, saying many flattering things of me to my father, and
strongly recommending the project of my setting up at Philadelphia, as a
thing that would make my fortune. We struck on a shoal in going down the
bay, and sprung a leak; we had a blustering time at sea, and were
obliged to pump almost continually, at which I took my turn. We arrived
safe, however, at Boston, in about a fortnight. I had been absent seven
months, and my friends had heard nothing of me; for my brother Holmes
was not yet returned, and had not written about me. My unexpected
appearance surprised the family; all were, however, very glad to see me,
and made me welcome, except my brother: I went to see him at his
printing-house. I was better dressed than ever while in his service,
having a genteel new suit from head to foot, a watch, and my pockets
lined with near five pounds sterling in silver. He received me not very
frankly, looked me all over, and turned to his work again. The
journeymen were inquisitive where I had been, what sort of a country it
was, and how I liked it. I praised it much, and the happy life I led in
it, expressing strongly my intention of returning to it; and one of them
asking what kind of money we had there, I produced a handful of silver
and spread it before them, which was a kind of _raree-show_ they had not
been used to, paper being the money of Boston. Then I took an
opportunity of letting them see my watch; and, lastly (my brother still
grum and sullen), gave them a dollar to drink and took my leave. This
visit of mine offended him extremely. For when my mother some time after
spoke to him of a reconciliation, and of her wish to see us on good
terms together, and that we might live for the future as brothers, he
said I had insulted him in such a manner before his people, that he
could never forget or forgive it. In this, however, he was mistaken.

My father received the governor's letter with some surprise, but said
little of it to me for some time. Captain Holmes returning, he showed it
to him, and asked him if he knew Sir William Keith, and what kind of a
man he was; adding, that he must be of small discretion to think of
setting a youth up in business who wanted three years to arrive at man's
estate. Holmes said what he could in favour of the project, but my
father was decidedly against it, and at last gave a flat denial. He
wrote a civil letter to Sir William, thanking him for the patronage he
had so kindly offered me, and declining to assist me as yet in setting
up, I being, in his opinion, too young to be trusted with the management
of an undertaking so important, and for which the preparation required a
considerable expenditure.

My old companion, Collins, who was a clerk in the postoffice, pleased
with the account I gave him of my new country, determined to go thither
also; and while I waited for my father's determination, he set out
before me by land to Rhode Island, leaving his books, which were a
pretty collection of mathematics and natural philosophy, to come with
mine and me to New-York, where he proposed to wait for me.

My father, though he did not approve Sir William's proposition, was yet
pleased that I had been able to obtain so advantageous a character from
a person of such note where I had resided, and that I had been so
industrious and careful as to equip myself so handsomely in so short a
time; therefore, seeing no prospect of an accommodation between my
brother and me, he gave his consent to my returning again to
Philadelphia, advised me to behave respectfully to the people there,
endeavour to obtain the general esteem, and avoid lampooning and
libelling, to which he thought I had too much inclination: telling me,
that by steady industry and prudent parsimony, I might save enough by
the time I was one-and-twenty to set me up; and that, if I came near the
matter, he would help me out with the rest. This was all I could obtain,
except some small gifts, as tokens of his and my mother's love, when I
embarked again for New-York, now with their approbation and their
blessing. The sloop putting in at Newport, Rhode Island, I visited my
brother John, who had been married and settled there some years. He
received me very affectionately, for he always loved me. A friend of
his, one Vernon, having some money due him in Pennsylvania (about
thirty-five pounds currency), desired I would recover it for him, and
keep it till I had his directions what to employ it in. Accordingly, he
gave me an order to receive it. This business afterward occasioned me a
good deal of uneasiness.

At Newport we took in a number of passengers, among which were two young
women travelling together, and a sensible, matron-like Quaker lady, with
her servants. I had shown an obliging disposition to render her some
little services, which probably impressed her with sentiments of
good-will towards me; for, when she witnessed the daily growing
familiarity between the young women and myself, which they appeared to
encourage, she took me aside and said, "Young man, I am concerned for
thee, as thou hast no friend with thee, and seemest not to know much of
the world, or of the snares youth is exposed to: depend upon it, these
are very bad women. I can see it by all their actions; and if thou art
not upon thy guard, they will draw thee into some danger: they are
strangers to thee, and I advise thee, in a friendly concern for thy
welfare, to have no acquaintance with them." As I seemed at first not to
think so ill of them as she did, she mentioned some things she had
observed and heard that had escaped my notice, but now convinced me she
was right. I thanked her for her kind advice, and promised to follow it.
When we arrived at New-York, they told me where they lived, and invited
me to come and see them, but I avoided it, and it was well I did; for
the next day the captain missed a silver spoon, and some other things
that had been taken out of his cabin; and knowing that these were women
of bad character, he got a warrant to search their lodgings, found the
stolen goods, and had the thieves punished. So, though we had escaped a
sunken rock, which we scraped upon in the passage, I thought this escape
of rather more importance to me.

At New-York I found my friend Collins, who had arrived there some time
before me. We had been intimate from children, and had read the same
books together: but he had the advantage of more time for reading and
studying, and a wonderful genius for mathematical learning, in which he
far outstripped me. While I lived in Boston, most of my hours of leisure
for conversation were spent with him, and he continued a sober as well
as industrious lad; was much respected for his learning by several of
the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemed to promise making a good
figure in life. But during my absence he had acquired a habit of
drinking brandy, and I found by his own account, as well as that of
others, that he had been drunk every day since his arrival at New-York,
and behaved himself in a very extravagant manner. He had gamed too, and
lost his money, so that I was obliged to discharge his lodgings, and
defray his expenses on the road and at Philadelphia, which proved a
great burden to me. The then governor of New-York, Burnet (son of Bishop
Burnet), hearing from the captain that one of the passengers had a great
many books on board, desired him to bring me to see him. I waited on
him, and should have taken Collins with me had he been sober. The
governor received me with great civility, showed me his library, which
was a considerable one, and we had a good deal of conversation relative
to books and authors. This was the second governor who had done me the
honour to take notice of me; and, for a poor boy like me, was very
pleasing. We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received on the way Vernon's
money, without which we could hardly have finished our journey. Collins
wished to be employed in some counting-house; but whether they
discovered his dram-drinking by his breath or by his behaviour, though
he had some recommendations, he met with no success in any application,
and continued lodging and boarding at the same house with me and at my
expense. Knowing that I had that money of Vernon's, he was continually
borrowing of me, still promising repayment as soon as he should be in
business. At length he had got so much of it that I was distressed to
think what I should do in case of being called on to remit it. His
drinking continued, about which we sometimes quarrelled; for, when a
little intoxicated, he was very irritable. Once, in a boat on the
Delaware, with some other young men, he refused to row in his turn: "I
will be rowed home," said he. "We will not row you," said I. "You must,"
said he, "or stay all night on the water, just as you please." The
others said, "Let us row, what signifies it?" But my mind being soured
with his other conduct, I continued to refuse. So he swore he would make
me row, or throw me overboard; and coming along, stepping on the thwarts
towards me, when he came up and struck at me, I clapped my hand under
his thighs, and rising, pitched him head foremost into the river. I knew
he was a good swimmer, and so was under little concern about him; but,
before he could get round to lay hold of the boat, we had, with a few
strokes, pulled her out of his reach; and whenever he drew near the
boat, we asked him if he would row, striking a few strokes to slide her
away from him. He was ready to stifle with vexation, and obstinately
would not promise to row. Finding him at last beginning to tire, we drew
him into the boat, and brought him home dripping wet. We hardly
exchanged a civil word after this adventure. At length a West India
captain, who had a commission to procure a preceptor for the sons of a
gentleman at Barbadoes, met with him, and proposed to carry him thither
to fill that situation. He accepted, and promised to remit me what he
owed me out of the first money he should receive; but I never heard of
him after. The violation of my trust respecting Vernon's money was one
of the first great errata of my life; and this showed that my father was
not much out in his judgment when he considered me as too young to
manage business. But Sir William, on reading his letter, said he was too
prudent; that there was a great difference in persons; and discretion
did hot always accompany years, nor was youth always without it. "But,
since he will not set you up, I will do it myself. Give me an inventory
of the things necessary to be had from England, and I will send for
them. You shall repay me when you are able; I am resolved to have a good
printer here, and I am sure you must succeed." This was spoken with such
an appearance of cordiality, that I had not the least doubt of his
meaning what he said. I had hitherto kept the proposition of my setting
up a secret in Philadelphia, and I still kept it. Had it been known that
I depended on the governor, probably some friend that knew him better
would have advised me not to rely on him; as I afterward heard it as
his known character, to be liberal of promises which he never meant to
keep; yet, unsolicited as he was by me, how could I think his generous
offers insincere? I believed him one of the best men in the world.

I presented him an inventory of a little printing-house, amounting by my
computation to about one hundred pounds sterling. He liked it, but asked
me if my being on the spot in England to choose the types, and see that
everything was good of the kind, might not be of some advantage; "then,"
said he, "when there, you may make acquaintance, and establish
correspondences in the bookselling and stationary way." I agreed that
this might be advantageous. "Then," said he, "get yourself ready to go
with the Annis;" which was the annual ship, and the only one at that
time usually passing between London and Philadelphia. But as it would be
some months before the Annis sailed, I continued working with Keimer,
fretting extremely about the money Collins had got from me, and in great
apprehensions of being called upon for it by Vernon; this, however, did
not happen for some years after.

I believe I have omitted mentioning that, in my first voyage from Boston
to Philadelphia, being becalmed off Block Island, our crew employed
themselves in catching cod, and hauled up a great number. Till then I
had stuck to my resolution to eat nothing that had had life; and on this
occasion I considered, according to my master Tryon, the taking every
fish as a kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them had nor could do
us any injury that might justify this massacre. All this seemed very
reasonable. But I had been formerly a great lover of fish, and when it
came out of the frying-pan it smelled admirably well. I balanced some
time between principle and inclination, till, recollecting that when
fish were opened I saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs; then,
thought I, "if you eat one another, I don't see why we may not eat you."
So I dined upon cod very heartily, and have since continued to eat as
other people; returning only now and then occasionally to a vegetable
diet. So convenient a thing it is to be a _reasonable creature_, since
_it enables one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind
to do_.

Keimer and I lived on a pretty good, familiar footing, and agreed
tolerably well; for he suspected nothing of my setting up. He retained a
great deal of his old enthusiasm, and loved argumentation. We therefore
had many disputations. I used to work him so with my Socratic method,
and had trepanned him so often by questions apparently so distant from
any point we had in hand, yet by degrees leading to the point, and
bringing him into difficulties and contradictions, that at last he grew
ridiculously cautious, and would hardly answer me the most common
questions, without asking first "_What do you intend to infer from
that?_" However, it gave him so high an opinion of my abilities in the
confuting way, that he seriously proposed my being his colleague in a
project he had of setting up a new sect. He was to preach the doctrines,
and I was to confound all opponents. When he came to explain with me
upon the doctrines, I found several conundrums which I objected to,
unless I might have my way a little too, and introduce some of mine.
Keimer wore his beard at full length, because somewhere in the Mosaic
law it is said, "_Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard_." He
likewise kept the seventh-day Sabbath; and these two points were
essential with him. I disliked both; but agreed to them on condition of
his adopting the doctrine of not using animal food. I doubt, said he, my
constitution will not bear it. I assured him it would, and that he would
be the better for it. He was usually a great eater, and I wished to
give myself some diversion in half starving him. He consented to try
the practice if I would keep him company: I did so, and we held it for
three months. Our provisions were purchased, cooked, and brought to us
regularly by a woman in the neighbourhood, who had from me a list of
forty dishes, which she prepared for us at different times, in which
there entered neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. This whim suited me the
better at this time, from the cheapness of it, not costing us above
eighteen pence sterling each per week. I have since kept several Lents
most strictly, leaving the common diet for that, and that for the
common, abruptly, without the least inconvenience. So that I think there
is little in the advice of making those changes by easy gradations. I
went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered grievously, grew tired of
the project, longed for the fleshpots of Egypt, and ordered a roast pig.
He invited me and two women friends to dine with him; but it being
brought too soon upon table, he could not resist the temptation, and ate
the whole before we came.

I had made some courtship during this time to Miss Read; I had a great
respect and affection for her, and had some reasons to believe she had
the same for me; but as I was about to take a long voyage, and we were
both very young (only a little above eighteen), it was thought most
prudent by her mother to prevent our going too far at present; as a
marriage, if it was to take place, would be more convenient after my
return, when I should be, as I hoped, set up in my business. Perhaps,
too, she thought my expectations not so well founded as I imagined them
to be.

My chief acquaintances at this time were Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson,
and James Ralph; all lovers of reading. The first two were clerks to an
eminent scrivener or conveyancer in the town (Charles Brockden), the
other was a clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, sensible young man
of great integrity: the others rather more lax in their principles of
religion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Collins, had been
unsettled by me, for which they both made me suffer. Osborne was
sensible, candid, frank, sincere, and affectionate to his friends; but
in literary matters too fond of criticism. Ralph was ingenuous, genteel
in his manners, and extremely eloquent; I think I never knew a prettier
talker. Both were great admirers of poetry, and began to try their hands
in little pieces. Many pleasant walks we have had together on Sundays in
the woods on the banks of the Schuylkill, where we read to one another,
and conferred on what we had read. Ralph was inclined to give himself up
entirely to poetry, not doubting but he might make great proficiency in
it, and even make his fortune by it. He pretended that the greatest
poets must, when they first began to write, have committed as many
faults as he did. Osborne endeavoured to dissuade him, assured him he
had no genius for poetry, and advised him to think of nothing beyond the
business he was bred to; "that in the mercantile way, though he had no
stock, he might, by his diligence and punctuality, recommend himself to
employment as a factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade on his
own account." I approved, for my part, the amusing one's self with
poetry now and then, so far as to improve one's language, but no
farther. On this it was proposed that we should each of us, at our next
meeting, produce a piece of our own composing, in order to improve by
our mutual observations, criticisms, and corrections. As language and
expression was what we had in view, we excluded all considerations of
invention, by agreeing that the task should be a version of the
eighteenth Psalm, which describes the descent of a deity. When the time
of our meeting drew nigh, Ralph called on me first, and let me know his
piece was ready: I told him I had been busy, and, having little
inclination, had done nothing. He then showed me his piece for my
opinion, and I much approved it, as it appeared to me to have great
merit. "Now," said he, "Osborne never will allow the least merit in
anything of mine, but makes a thousand criticisms out of mere envy: he
is not so jealous of you; I wish, therefore, you would take this piece
and produce it as yours: I will pretend not to have had time, and so
produce nothing; we shall then hear what he will say to it." It was
agreed, and I immediately transcribed it, that it might appear in my own
hand. We met: Watson's performance was read; there were some beauties in
it, but many defects. Osborne's was read; it was much better. Ralph did
it justice, remarked some faults, but applauded the beauties. He himself
had nothing to produce. I was backward, seemed desirous of being
excused, had not had sufficient time to correct, &c., but no excuse
could be admitted; produce I must. It was read and repeated: Watson and
Osborne gave up the contest, and joined in applauding it. Ralph only
made some criticisms and proposed some amendments; but I defended my
text. Osborne was severe against Ralph, and told me he was no better
able to criticise than to compose verses. As these two were returning
home, Osborne expressed himself still more strongly in favour of what he
thought my production; having before refrained, as he said, lest I
should think he meant to flatter me. "But who would have imagined," said
he, "that Franklin was capable of such a performance; such painting,
such force, such fire! He has even improved on the original. In common
conversation he seems to have no choice of words; he hesitates and
blunders; and yet, good God, how he writes!" When we next met, Ralph
discovered the trick we had played, and Osborne was laughed at. This
transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution of becoming a poet. I did all
I could to dissuade him from it, but he continued scribbling verses till
Pope cured him.[6] He became, however, a pretty good prose writer. More
of him hereafter. But as I may not have occasion to mention the other
two, I shall just remark here that Watson died in my arms a few years
after, much lamented, being the best of our set. Osborne went to the
West Indies, where he became an eminent lawyer, and made money. He and I
had made a serious agreement, that the one who happened first to die
should, if possible, make a friendly visit to the other, and acquaint
him how he found things in that separate state. But he never fulfilled
his promise.

The governor, seeming to like my company, had me frequently at his
house, and his setting me up was always mentioned as a fixed thing. I
was to take with me letters recommendatory to a number of his friends,
besides the letter of credit to furnish me with the necessary money for
purchasing the press, types, paper, &c. For these letters I was
appointed to call at different times, when they were to be ready, but a
future time was still named. Thus we went on till the ship (whose
departure, too, had been several times postponed) was on the point of
sailing. Then, when I called to take my leave and receive the letters,
his secretary, Dr. Baird, came out to me and said the governor was
extremely busy in writing, but would be down at Newcastle before the
ship, and then the letters would be delivered to me.

Ralph, though married, and having one child, had determined to accompany
me in this voyage. It was thought he intended to establish a
correspondence and obtain goods to sell on commission; but I found
after, that, having some cause of discontent with his wife's relations,
he proposed to leave her on their hands and never return to America.
Having taken leave of my friends and exchanged promises with Miss Read,
I quitted Philadelphia in the ship, which anchored at Newcastle. The
governor was there, but when I went to his lodging, his secretary came
to me from him with expressions of the greatest regret that he could not
then see me, being engaged in business of importance; but that he would
send the letters to me on board, wishing me heartily a good voyage and a
speedy return, &c. I returned on board a little puzzled, but still not
doubting.

Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a celebrated lawyer of Philadelphia, had taken his
passage in the same ship for himself and son, with Mr. Denham, a Quaker
merchant, and Messrs. Oniam and Russel (masters of an iron work in
Maryland), who had engaged the great cabin; so that Ralph and I were
forced to take up with a birth in the steerage, and, none on board
knowing us, were considered as ordinary persons. But Mr. Hamilton and
his son (it was James, since governor) returned from Newcastle to
Philadelphia, the father being recalled by a great fee to plead for a
seized ship. And just before we sailed, Colonel French coming on board,
and showing me great respect, I was more taken notice of; and, with my
friend Ralph, invited by the other gentlemen to come into the cabin,
there being now room; accordingly, we removed thither.

Understanding that Colonel French had brought on board the governor's
despatches, I asked the captain for those letters that were to be under
my care; he said all were put into the bag together, and he could not
then come at them, but before we landed in England I should have an
opportunity of picking them out; so I was satisfied for the present, and
we proceeded on our voyage. We had a sociable company in the cabin, and
lived uncommonly well, having the addition of all Mr. Hamilton's stores,
who had laid in plentifully. In this passage Mr. Denham contracted a
friendship for me, that continued during his life. The voyage was
otherwise not a pleasant one, as we had a great deal of bad weather.

When we came into the Channel, the captain kept his word with me, and
gave me an opportunity of examining the bag for the governor's letters;
I found some upon which my name was put, as under my care: I picked out
six or seven, that by the handwriting I thought might be the promised
letters, especially as one of them was addressed to Basket, the king's
printer, and another to some stationer. We arrived in London the 24th
December, 1724. I waited upon the stationer, who came first in my way,
delivering the letter as from Governor Keith. "I don't know such a
person," said he: but opening the letter, "Oh! this is from Riddlesden.
I have lately found him to be a complete rascal, and I will have nothing
to do with him, nor receive any letters from him." So, putting the
letter into my hand, he turned on his heel and left me to serve some
customer. I was surprised to find these were not the governor's letters;
and, after recollecting and comparing circumstances, I began to doubt
his sincerity. I found my friend Denham, and opened the whole affair to
him. He let me into Keith's character; told me there was not the least
probability that he had written any letters for me; that no one who knew
him had the smallest dependance on him; and he laughed at the idea of
the governor's giving me a letter of credit, having, as he said, no
credit to give. On my expressing some concern about what I should do, he
advised me to endeavour to get some employment in the way of my
business. Among the printers here, said he, you will improve yourself,
and when you return to America you will set up to greater advantage.

We both of us happened to know, as well as the stationer, that
Riddlesden, the attorney, was a very knave; he had half ruined Miss
Read's father, by persuading him to be bound for him. By his letter it
appeared there was a secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of Mr.
Hamilton (supposed to be then coming over with us); that Keith was
concerned in it, with Riddlesden. Denham, who was a friend of
Hamilton's, thought he ought to be acquainted with it; so, when he
arrived in England, which was soon after, partly from resentment and ill
will to Keith and Riddlesden, and partly from good will to him, I waited
on him and gave him the letter. He thanked me cordially, the information
being of importance to him; and from that time he became my friend,
greatly to my advantage afterward on many occasions.

But what shall we think of a governor playing such pitiful tricks, and
imposing so grossly upon a poor ignorant boy! It was a habit he had
acquired; he wished to please everybody, and having little to give, he
gave expectations. He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man, a pretty
good writer, and a good governor for the people, though not for his
constituents the proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes
disregarded: several of our best laws were of his planning, and passed
during his administration.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings together in
Little Britain, at 3s. 6d. per week; as much as we could then afford. He
found some relations, but they were poor, and unable to assist him. He
now let me know his intentions of remaining in London, and that he never
meant to return to Philadelphia. He had brought no money with him, the
whole he could muster having been expended in paying his passage. I had
fifteen pistoles; so he borrowed occasionally of me to subsist, while he
was looking out for business. He first endeavoured to get into the
playhouse, believing himself qualified for an actor; but Wilkes to whom
he applied, advised him candidly not to think of that employment, as it
was impossible he should succeed in it. Then he proposed to Roberts, a
publisher in Paternoster Row, to write for him a weekly paper like the
Spectator, on certain conditions; which Roberts did not approve. Then he
endeavoured to get employment as a hackney-writer, to copy for the
stationers and lawyers about the Temple; but could not find a vacancy.

For myself, I immediately got into work at Palmer's, a famous
printing-house in Bartholomew Close, where I continued near a year. I
was pretty diligent, but I spent with Ralph a good deal of my earnings,
at plays and public amusements; we had nearly consumed all my pistoles,
and now just rubbed on from hand to mouth. He seemed quite to have
forgotten his wife and child; and I, by degrees, my engagements with
Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that was to
let her know I was not likely soon to return. This was another of the
great _errata_ of my life which I could wish to correct if I were to
live it over again In fact, by our expenses I was constantly kept unable
to pay my passage.

At Palmer's I was employed in composing for the second edition of
Woollaston's Religion of Nature. Some of his reasonings not appearing to
me well-founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece, in which I made
remarks on them. It was entitled, "_A Dissertation on Liberty and
Necessity, Pleasure and Pain_." I inscribed it to my friend Ralph; I
printed a small number. It occasioned my being more considered by Mr.
Palmer as a young man of some ingenuity, though he seriously
expostulated with me upon the principles of my pamphlet, which to him
appeared abominable. My printing this pamphlet was another _erratum_.
While I lodged in _Little Britain_, I made acquaintance with one Wilcox,
a bookseller, whose shop was next door. He had an immense collection of
second-hand books. Circulating libraries were not then in use, but we
agreed that on certain reasonable terms (which I have now forgotten), I
might take, read, and return any of his books; this I esteemed a great
advantage, and I made as much use of it as I could.

My pamphlet by some means falling into the hands of one Lyons, a
surgeon, author of a book entitled "_The Infallibility of Human
Judgment_," it occasioned an acquaintance between us; he took great
notice of me, called on me often to converse on those subjects, carried
me to the Horns, a pale alehouse in ---- lane, Cheapside, and introduced
me to Dr. Mandeville, author of the Fable of the Bees, who had a club
there, of which he was the soul, being a most facetious, entertaining
companion. Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr. Pemberton,[7] at Baston's
Coffee-house, who promised to give me an opportunity, some time or
other, of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I was extremely desirous;
but this never happened.

I had brought over a few curiosities, among which the principal was a
purse made of the _asbestos_, which purifies by fire. Sir Hans Sloane
heard of it, came to see me, invited me to his house in Bloomsbury
Square, showed me all his curiosities, and persuaded me to add that to
the number; for which he paid me handsomely.

At my first admission into the printing-house I took to working at
press, imagining I felt a want of the bodily exercise I had been used to
in America, where presswork is mixed with the composing. I drank only
water; the other workmen, near fifty in number, were great drinkers of
beer. On occasion, I carried up and down stairs a large form of types in
each hand, when others carried but one in both hands; they wondered to
see, from this and several instances, that the _Water American_, as they
called me, was _stronger_ than themselves who drank _strong_ beer! We
had an alehouse-boy, who attended always in the house to supply the
workmen. My companion at the press drank every day a pint before
breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a pint between
breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner; a pint in the afternoon about
six o'clock, and another when he had done his day's work. I thought it a
detestable custom; but it was necessary, he supposed, to drink _strong_
beer, that he might be _strong_ to labour. I endeavoured to convince him
that the bodily strength afforded by beer could only be in proportion to
the grain or flour of the barley dissolved in the water of which it was
made; that there was more flour in a pennyworth of bread, and,
therefore, if he could eat that with a pint of water, it would give him
more strength than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had four
or five shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night for that
vile liquor: an expense I was free from; and thus these poor devils keep
themselves always under.

Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the composing-room, I
left the pressmen; a new _bien venu_ for drink (being five shillings)
was demanded of me by the compositors. I thought it an imposition, as I
had paid one to the pressmen; the master thought so too, and forbade my
paying it. I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered as
an excommunicate, and had so many little pieces of private malice
practised on me, by mixing my sorts, transposing and breaking my matter,
&c., &c., if ever I stepped out of the room, and all ascribed to the
_chapel ghost_, which they said ever haunted those not regularly
admitted, that, notwithstanding the master's protection, I found myself
obliged to comply and pay the money, convinced of the folly of being on
ill terms with those one is to live with continually. I was now on a
fair footing with them, and soon acquired considerable influence. I
proposed some reasonable alterations in their _chapel_[8] laws, and
carried them against all opposition. From my example a great many of
them left their muddling breakfast of beer, bread and cheese, finding
they could with me be supplied from a neighbouring house with a large
porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with pepper, crumbled with
bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz.,
three halfpence. This was a more comfortable as well as a cheaper
breakfast, and kept their heads clearer. Those who continued sotting
with their beer all day, were often, by not paying, out of credit at the
alehouse, and used to make interest with me to get beer, their _light_,
as they phrased it, _being out_. I watched the pay-table on Saturday
night, and collected what I stood engaged for them, having to pay
sometimes near thirty shillings a week on their accounts. This, and my
being esteemed a pretty good _rig-ite_, that is, a jocular verbal
satirist, supported my consequence in the society. My constant
attendance (I never making a _St. Monday_) recommended me to the master;
and my uncommon quickness at composing occasioned my being put upon work
of despatch, which was generally better paid; so I went on now very
agreeably.

My lodgings in Little Britain being too remote, I found another in
Duke-street, opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was up three flights of
stairs backward, at an Italian warehouse. A widow lady kept the house;
she had a daughter, and a maidservant, and a journeyman who attended the
warehouse, but lodged abroad. After sending to inquire my character at
the house where I last lodged, she agreed to take me in at the same
rate, 3_s._ 6_d._ per week; cheaper, as she said, from the protection
she expected in having a man to lodge in the house. She was a widow, an
elderly woman; had been bred a Protestant, being a clergyman's daughter,
but was converted to the Catholic religion by her husband, whose memory
she much revered; had lived much among people of distinction, and knew a
thousand anecdotes of them, as far back as Charles the Second. She was
lame in her knees with the gout, and therefore seldom stirred out of her
room, so she sometimes wanted company; and hers was so highly amusing to
me, that I was sure to spend an evening with her whenever she desired
it. Our supper was only half an anchovy each, on a very little slice of
bread and butter, and half a pint of ale between us; but the
entertainment was in her conversation. My always keeping good hours, and
giving little trouble in the family, made her unwilling to part with me;
so that, when I talked of a lodging I had heard of nearer my business,
for 2_s._ a week, which, intent as I was on saving money, made some
difference, she bid me not think of it, for she would abate me 2_s._ a
week for the future; so I remained with her at 1_s._ 6_d._ as long as I
stayed in London.

In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady of seventy, in the
most retired manner, of whom my landlady gave me this account: that she
was a Roman Catholic, had been sent abroad when young, and lodged in a
nunnery with an intent of becoming a nun; but, the country not agreeing
with her, she returned to England, where, there being no nunnery, she
had vowed to lead the life of a nun as near as might be done in those
circumstances. Accordingly, she had given all her estate to charitable
purposes, reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on, and out of
this sum she still gave a part in charity, living herself on water-gruel
only, and using no fire but to boil it. She had lived many years in that
garret, being permitted to remain there gratis by successive Catholic
tenants of the house below, as they deemed it a blessing to have her
there. A priest visited her to confess her every day: "from this I asked
her," said my landlady, "how she, as she lived, could possibly find so
much employment for a confessor." "Oh," said she, "it is impossible to
avoid _vain thoughts_." I was permitted once to visit her; she was
cheerful and polite, and conversed pleasantly. The room was clean, but
had no other furniture than a mattress, a table with a crucifix, and a
book, a stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture over the
chimney of _St. Veronica_ displaying her handkerchief, with the
miraculous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she explained
to me with great seriousness. She looked pale, but was never sick, and I
give it as another instance on how small an income life and health may
be supported.

At Watts's printing-house I contracted an acquaintance with an ingenious
man, one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, had been better educated
than most printers; was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and loved
reading. I taught him and a friend of his to swim at twice going into
the river, and they soon became good swimmers. They introduced me to
some gentlemen from the country, who went to Chelsea by water, to see
the college and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the request
of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and
leaped into the river, and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfriars;
performing in the way many feats of activity both upon and under the
water, that surprised and pleased those to whom they were novelties. I
had from a child been delighted with this exercise, had studied and
practised Thevenot's motions and positions, added some of mine own,
aiming at the graceful and easy as well as the useful. All these I took
this occasion of exhibiting to the company, and was much flattered by
their admiration; and Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a master,
grew more and more attached to me on that account, as well as from the
similarity of our studies. He at length proposed to me travelling all
over Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working at our
business. I was once inclined to it; but mentioning it to my good friend
Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I had leisure, he
dissuaded me from it, advising me to think only of returning to
Pennsylvania, which he was now about to do.

I must record one trait of this good man's character: he had formerly
been in business at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of people,
compounded and went to America; there, by a close application to
business as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few years.
Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his old creditors
to an entertainment, at which he thanked them for the easy composition
they had favoured him with, and when they expected nothing but the
treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a
banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder, with interest.

He now told me he was about to return to Philadelphia, and should carry
over a great quantity of goods in order to open a store there. He
proposed to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books (in which he
would instruct me), copy his letters, and attend the store; he added,
that, as soon as I should be acquainted with mercantile business, he
would promote me, by sending me with a cargo of flour and bread, &c., to
the West Indies, and procure me commissions from others which would be
profitable; and, if I managed well, would establish me handsomely. The
thing pleased me, for I was grown tired of London; remembered with
pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and wished again
to see it; therefore I immediately agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a
year, Pennsylvania money; less, indeed, than my present gettings as a
compositor, but affording better prospects.

I now took leave of printing, as I thought, for ever, and was daily
employed in my new business: going about with Mr. Denham among the
tradesmen, to purchase various articles and see them packed up,
delivering messages, calling upon workmen to despatch, &c.; and, when
all was on board, I had a few days' leisure. On one of these days I was,
to my surprise, sent for by a great man, I knew only by name (Sir
William Wyndham), and I waited upon him; he had heard, by some means or
other, of my swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriars, and of my teaching
Wygate and another young man to swim in a few hours: he had two sons,
about to set out on their travels; he wished to have them first taught
swimming, and proposed to gratify me handsomely if I would teach them.
They were not yet come to town, and my stay was uncertain, so I could
not undertake it; but from the incident I thought it likely, that if I
were to remain in England and open a swimming school, I might get a good
deal of money; and it struck me so strongly, that, had the overture been
made me sooner, probably I should not so soon have returned to America.
Many years after, you and I had something of more importance to do with
one of those sons of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which
I shall mention in its place.

Thus I passed about eighteen months in London, most part of the time I
worked hard at my business, and spent but little upon myself, except in
seeing plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor; he owed me
about twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never likely to receive; a
great sum out of my small earnings! I loved him, notwithstanding, for he
had many amiable qualities. I had improved my knowledge, however, though
I had by no means improved my fortune; but I had made some very
ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was of great advantage to me,
and I had read considerably.

We sailed from Gravesend on the 23d of July, 1726. For the incidents of
the voyage I refer you to my journal, where you will find them all
minutely related. Perhaps the most important part of that journal is the
_plan_ to be found in it, which I formed at sea, for regulating the
future conduct of my life. It is the more remarkable as being formed
when I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite
through to old age.

We landed at Philadelphia the 11th of October, where I found sundry
alterations. Keith was no longer governor, being superseded by Major
Gordon; I met him walking the streets as a common citizen; he seemed a
little ashamed at seeing me, and passed without saying anything. I
should have been as much ashamed at seeing Miss Read, had not her
friends, despairing with reason of my return after the receipt of my
letter, persuaded her to marry another, one Rogers, a potter, which was
done in my absence. With him, however, she was never happy, and soon
parted from him, refusing to cohabit with him or bear his name, it being
now said he had another wife. He was a worthless fellow, though an
excellent workman, which was the temptation to her friends; he got into
debt, ran away in 1727 or 1728, went to the West Indies, and died there.
Keimer had got a better house, a shop well supplied with stationary,
plenty of new types, and a number of hands, though none good, and seemed
to have a great deal of business.

Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street, where we opened our goods; I
attended the business diligently, studied accounts, and grew in a little
time expert at selling. We lodged and boarded together; he counselled me
as a father, having a sincere regard for me: I respected and loved him,
and we might have gone on together very happily, but in the beginning of
February, 1727, when I had just passed my twenty-first year, we both
were taken ill. My distemper was a pleurisy, which very nearly carried
me off; I suffered a good deal, gave up the point in my own mind, and
was at the time rather disappointed when I found myself recovering;
regretting in some degree that I must now, some time or other, have all
that disagreeable work to go over again. I forget what Mr. Denham's
distemper was; it held him a long time, and at length carried him off.
He left me a small legacy in a nuncupative will, as a token of his
kindness to me, and he left me once more to the wide world, for the
store was taken into the care of his executors, and my employment under
him ended. My brother-in-law, Holmes, being now at Philadelphia, advised
my return to my business; and Keimer tempted me with an offer of large
wages by the year, to come and take the management of his
printing-house, that he might better attend to his stationer's shop. I
had heard a bad character of him in London from his wife and her
friends, and was not for having any more to do with him. I wished for
employment as a merchant's clerk, but not meeting with any, I closed
again with Keimer. I found in his house these hands: Hugh Meredith, a
Welsh Pennsylvanian, thirty years of age, bred to country work; he was
honest, sensible, a man of experience, and fond of reading, but addicted
to drinking. Stephen Potts, a young countryman of full age, bred to the
same, of uncommon natural parts, and great wit and humour, but a little
idle. These he had agreed with at extreme low wages per week, to be
raised a shilling every three months as they should deserve by improving
in their business; and the expectation of these high wages to come on
hereafter was what he had drawn them in with. Meredith was to work at
press, Potts at bookbinding, which he, by agreement, was to teach them,
though he knew neither one nor the other. John Savage, an Irishman,
brought up to no business, whose service for four years Keimer had
purchased from the captain of a ship; he too was to be made a pressman.
George Webb, an Oxford scholar, whose time for four years he had
likewise bought, intending him for a compositor (of whom more
presently), and David Harry, a country boy, whom he had taken
apprentice.

I soon perceived that the intention of engaging me, at wages so much
higher than he had been used to give, was to have these raw, cheap hands
formed through me; and, as soon as I had instructed them (they being all
articled to him), he should be able to do without me. I went, however,
very cheerfully, put his printing-house in order, which had been in
great confusion, and brought his hands by degrees to mind their
business, and to do it better.

It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in the situation of a
bought servant; he was not more than eighteen years of age; he gave me
this account of himself: that he was born in Gloucester, educated at a
grammar-school, and had been distinguished among the scholars for some
apparent superiority in performing his part when they exhibited plays;
belonged to the Wit's club there, and had written some pieces in prose
and verse, which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers; thence was
sent to Oxford; there he continued about a year, but not well satisfied,
wishing of all things to see London and become a player. At length,
receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas instead of
discharging his debts he went out of town, hid his gown in a furz bush,
and walked to London, where, having no friend to advise him, he fell
into bad company, soon spent his guineas, found no means of being
introduced among the players, grew necessitous, pawned his clothes, and
wanted bread. Walking the street, very hungry, and not knowing what to
do with himself, a crimp's bill was put into his hand, offering
immediate entertainment and encouragement to such as would bind
themselves to serve in America; he went directly, signed the indentures,
was put into the ship, and came over, never writing a line to his
friends to acquaint them what was become of him. He was lively, witty,
good-natured, and a pleasant companion; but idle, thoughtless, and
imprudent to the last degree.

John, the Irishman, soon ran away; with the rest I began to live very
agreeably, for they all respected me the more, as they found Keimer
incapable of instructing them, and that from me they learned something
daily. My acquaintance with ingenious people in the town increased. We
never worked on Saturday, that being Keimer's Sabbath, so that I had two
days for reading. Keimer himself treated me with great civility and
apparent regard, and nothing now made me uneasy but my debt to Vernon,
which I was yet unable to pay, being hitherto but a poor economist; he,
however, kindly made no demand of it.

Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there was no letter foundry
in America. I had seen types cast at James's in London, but without much
attention to the manner; however, I now contrived a mould, and made use
of the letters we had as puncheons, struck the matrices in lead, and
thus supplied, in a pretty tolerable way, all deficiencies. I also
engraved several things on occasion; made the ink; I was warehouse-man,
and, in short, quite a _factotum_.

But, however serviceable I might be, I found that my services became
every day of less importance, as the other hands improved in their
business; and when Keimer paid me a second quarter's wages, he let me
know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I should make an
abatement. He grew by degrees less civil, put on more the airs of
master, frequently found fault, was captious, and seemed ready for an
outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good deal of patience,
thinking that his encumbered circumstances were partly the cause. At
length a trifle snapped our connexion; for a great noise happening near
the courthouse, I put my head out of the window to see what was the
matter. Keimer, being in the street, looked up and saw me; called out to
me in a loud voice and an angry tone, to mind my business; adding some
reproachful words, that nettled me the more for their publicity; all the
neighbours, who were looking out on the same occasion, being witnesses
how I was treated. He came up immediately into the printing-house;
continued the quarrel; high words passed on both sides; he gave me the
quarter's warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that he had not
been obliged to so long a warning. I told him his wish was unnecessary,
for I would leave him that instant; and so, taking my hat, walked out of
doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to take care of some things
I left and bring them to my lodgings.

Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when we talked my affair over.
He had conceived a great regard for me, and was very unwilling that I
should leave the house while he remained in it. He dissuaded me from
returning to my native country, which I began to think of; he reminded
me that Keimer was in debt for all he possessed; that his creditors
began to be uneasy; that he kept his shop miserably, sold often without
a profit for ready money, and often trusted without keeping accounts
that he must therefore fail, which would make a vacancy I might profit
of. I objected my want of money. He then let me know that his father had
a high opinion of me, and, from some discourse that had passed between
them, he was sure he would advance money to set me up, if I would enter
into partnership with him. My time, said he, will be out with Keimer in
the spring; by that time we may have our press and types in from London.
I am sensible I am no workman: if you like it, your skill in the
business shall be set against the stock I furnish, and we will share the
profits equally. The proposal was agreeable to me, and I consented; his
father was in town and approved of it; the more, he said, as I had great
influence with his son; had prevailed on him to abstain long from
dram-drinking, and he hoped might break him of that wretched habit
entirely when we came to be so closely connected. I gave an inventory to
the father, who carried it to a merchant: the things were sent for, the
secret was to be kept till they should arrive, and in the mean time I
was to get work, if I could, at the other printing-house. But I found no
vacancy there, and so remained idle a few days, when Keimer, on a
prospect of being employed to print some paper money in New-Jersey,
which would require cuts and various types that I only could supply, and
apprehending Bradford might engage me and get the job from him, sent me
a very civil message, that old friends should not part for a few words,
the effect of sudden passion, and wishing me to return. Meredith
persuaded me to comply, as it would give more opportunity for his
improvement under my daily instructions; so I returned, and we went on
more smoothly than for some time before. The New-Jersey job was
obtained; I contrived a copperplate press for it, the first that had
been seen in the country; I cut several ornaments and checks for the
bills. We went together to Burlington, where I executed the whole to
satisfaction; and he received so large a sum for the work as to be
enabled thereby to keep himself longer from ruin.

At Burlington I made an acquaintance with many principal people of the
province. Several of them had been appointed by the Assembly a committee
to attend the press, and take care that no more bills were printed than
the law directed. They were, therefore, by turns, constantly with us,
and generally he who attended brought with him a friend or two for
company. My mind having been much more improved by reading than
Keimer's, I suppose it was for that reason my conversation seemed to be
more valued. They had me to their houses, introduced me to their
friends, and showed me much civility; while he, though the master, was a
little neglected. In truth, he was an odd creature; ignorant of common
life, fond of rudely opposing received opinions; slovenly to extreme
dirtiness; enthusiastic in some points of religion, and a little knavish
withal. We continued there near three months, and by that time I could
reckon among my acquired friends Judge Allen, Samuel Bustill, the
secretary of the province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, and several of
the Smiths, members of Assembly, and Isaac Decow, the surveyor-general.
The latter was a shrewd, sagacious old man, who told me that he began
for himself, when young, by wheeling clay for the brickmakers, learned
to write after he was of age, carried the chain for surveyors, who
taught him surveying, and he had now, by his industry, acquired a good
estate; and, said he, I foresee you will soon work this man out of his
business, and make a fortune in it at Philadelphia. He had then not the
least intimation of my intention to set up there or anywhere. These
friends were afterward of great use to me, as I occasionally was to some
of them. They all continued their regard for me as long as they lived.

Before I enter upon my public appearance in business, it may be well to
let you know the then state of my mind with regard to my principles and
morals, that you may see how far those influenced the future events of
my life. My parents had early given me religious impressions, and
brought me through my childhood piously in the dissenting way. But I was
scarce fifteen, when, after doubting by turns several points, as I found
them disputed in the different books I read, I began to doubt of the
revelation itself. Some books against Deism fell into my hands; they
were said to be the substance of the sermons which had been preached at
Boyle's Lectures. It happened that they wrought an effect on me quite
contrary to what was intended by them; for the arguments of the Deists,
which were quoted to be refuted, appeared to me much stronger than the
refutation; in short, I soon became a thorough Deist. My arguments
perverted some others, particularly Collins and Ralph: but each of these
having wronged me greatly without the least compunction; and
recollecting Keith's conduct towards me (who was another freethinker),
and my own towards Vernon and Miss Read, which at times gave me great
trouble, I began to suspect that this doctrine, though it might be true,
was not very useful. My London pamphlet (printed in 1725)--which had for
its motto these lines of Dryden:

"Whatever is, is right. Though purblind man
Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest link,
His eye not carrying to that equal beam
That poises all above--"

and which, from the attributes of God, his infinite wisdom, goodness,
and power, concluded that nothing could possibly be wrong in the world;
and that vice and virtue were empty distinctions, no such things
existing--appeared now not so clever a performance as I once thought it;
and I doubted whether some error had not insinuated itself unperceived
into my argument, so as to infect all that followed, as is common in
metaphysical reasonings. I grew convinced that _truth_, _sincerity_, and
_integrity_, in dealings between man and man, were of the utmost
importance to the felicity of life; and I formed written resolutions
(which still remain in my journal-book) to practise them ever while I
lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me as such; but I
entertained an opinion that, though certain actions might not be bad
_because_ they were forbidden by it, or good _because_ it commanded
them, yet probably those actions might be forbidden _because_ they were
bad for us, or commanded _because_ they were beneficial to us, in their
own natures, all the circumstances of things considered. And this
persuasion, with the kind hand of Providence, or some guardian angel, or
accidental favourable circumstances and situations, or all together,
preserved me through the dangerous time of youth and the hazardous
situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote from the eye and
advice of my father, free from any _wilful_ gross immorality or
injustice that might have been expected from my want of religion; I say
_wilful_, because the instances I have mentioned had something of
_necessity_ in them, from my youth, inexperience, and the knavery of
others: I had, therefore, a tolerable character to begin the world with;
I valued it properly, and determined to preserve it.

We had not been long returned to Philadelphia before the new types
arrived from London. We settled with Keimer, and left him by his consent
before he heard of it. We found a house to hire near the market, and
took it. To lessen the rent (which was then but twenty-four pounds a
year, though I have since known it to let for seventy), we took in
Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, and his family, who were to pay a
considerable part of it to us, and we to board with them. We had scarce
opened our letters and put our press in order, before George House, an
acquaintance of mine, brought a countryman to us, whom he had met in the
street inquiring for a printer. All our cash was now expended in the
variety of particulars we had been obliged to procure, and this
countryman's five shillings, being our first fruits, and coming so
seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any crown I have since earned;
and, from the gratitude I felt towards House, has made me often more
ready than perhaps I otherwise should have been, to assist young
beginners.

There are croakers in every country always boding its ruin. Such a one
there lived in Philadelphia, a person of note, an elderly man, with a
wise look and a very grave manner of speaking; his name was Samuel
Mickle. This gentleman, a stranger to me, stopped me one day at my door,
and asked me if I was the young man who had lately opened a new
printing-house. Being answered in the affirmative, he said he was sorry
for me, because it was an expensive undertaking, and the expense would
be lost, for Philadelphia was a sinking place; the people already half
bankrupts, or near being so; all the appearances of the country, such as
new buildings and the rise of rents, being to his certain knowledge
fallacious; for they were, in fact, among the things that would ruin us.
Then he gave me such a detail of misfortunes now existing, or that were
soon to exist, that he left me half melancholy. Had I known him before I
engaged in this business, probably I never should have done it. This
person continued to live in this _decaying place_, and to declaim in the
same strain, refusing for many years to buy a house there, because all
was going to destruction; and at last I had the pleasure of seeing him
give five times as much for one as he might have bought it for when he
first began croaking.

I should have mentioned before, that in the autumn of the preceding year
I had formed most of my ingenious acquaintance into a club for mutual
improvement, which we called the JUNTO; we met on Friday evenings. The
rules that I drew up required that every member in his turn should
produce one or more queries on any point of morals, politics, or natural
philosophy, to be discussed by the company; and once in three months
produce and read an essay of his own writing, on any subject he pleased.
Our debates were to be under the direction of a president, and to be
conducted in the sincere spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness
for dispute or desire of victory; and to prevent warmth, all expressions
of positiveness in opinions or direct contradiction were after some time
made contraband, and prohibited under small pecuniary penalties.

The first members were Joseph Brientnal, a copier of deeds for the
scriveners; a good-natured, friendly, middle-aged man, a great lover of
poetry, reading all he could meet with, and writing some that was
tolerable; very ingenious in making little knickknackeries, and of
sensible conversation.

Thomas Godfrey, a self-taught mathematician, great in his way, and
afterward inventor of what is now called _Hadley's Quadrant_. But he
knew little out of his way, and was not a pleasing companion; as, like
most great mathematicians I have met with, he expected universal
precision in everything said, or was for ever denying or distinguishing
upon trifles, to the disturbance of all conversation; he soon left us.

Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, afterward surveyor-general, who loved books,
and sometimes made a few verses.

William Parsons, bred a shoemaker, but loving reading, had acquired a
considerable share of mathematics, which he first studied with a view to
astrology, and afterward laughed at it; he also became surveyor-general.

William Maugridge, joiner, but a most exquisite mechanic, and a solid,
sensible man.

Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb, I have characterized
before.

Robert Grace, a young gentleman of some fortune, generous, lively, and
witty; a lover of punning and of his friends.

Lastly, William Coleman, then a merchant's clerk, about my age, who had
the coolest, clearest head, the best heart, and the exactest morals of
almost any man I ever met with. He became afterward a merchant of great
note, and one of our provincial judges. Our friendship continued without
interruption to his death, upward of forty years; and the club continued
almost as long, and was the best school of philosophy, morality, and
politics that then existed in the province; for our queries (which were
read the week preceding their discussion) put us upon reading with
attention on the several subjects, that we might speak more to the
purpose: and here, too, we acquired better habits of conversation,
everything being studied in our rules which might prevent our disgusting
each other; hence the long continuance of the club, which I shall have
frequent occasion to speak farther of hereafter. But my giving this
account of it here is to show something of the interest I had, every one
of these exerting themselves in recommending business to us. Brientnal
particularly procured us from the Quakers the printing of forty sheets
of their history, the rest being to be done by Keimer; and upon these we
worked exceeding hard, for the price was low. It was a folio, _pro
patria_ size, in pica, with long-primer notes. I composed a sheet a day,
and Meredith worked it off at press; it was often eleven at night, and
sometimes later, before I had finished my distribution for the next
day's work, for the little jobs sent in by our other friends now and
then put us back. But so determined I was to continue doing a sheet a
day of the folio, that one night, when, having imposed my forms, I
thought my day's work over, one of them by accident was broken, and two
pages reduced to _pi_, I immediately distributed and composed it over
again before I went to bed; and this industry, visible to our
neighbours, began to give us character and credit; particularly, I was
told, that mention being made of the new printing-office at the
merchants' every-night club, the general opinion was that it must fail,
there being already two printers in the place, Keimer and Bradford; but
Dr. Baird (whom you and I saw many years after at his native place, St.
Andrew's in Scotland), gave a contrary opinion: "For the industry of
that Franklin," said he, "is superior to anything I ever saw of the
kind; I see him still at work when I go home from the club, and he is at
work again before his neighbours are out of bed." This struck the rest,
and we soon after had offers from one of them to supply us with
stationary; but, as yet, we did not choose to engage in shop business.

I mention this industry the more particularly and the more freely,
though it seems to be talking in my own praise, that those of my
posterity who shall read it may know the use of that virtue, when they
see its effects in my favour throughout this relation.

George Webb, who had found a female friend that lent him wherewith to
purchase his time of Keimer, now came to offer himself as a journeyman
to us. We could not then employ him; but I foolishly let him know, as a
secret, that I soon intended to begin a newspaper, and might then have
work for him. My hopes of success, as I told him, were founded on this,
that the then only newspaper printed by Bradford, was a paltry thing,
wretchedly managed, no way entertaining, and yet was profitable to him;
I therefore freely thought a good paper would scarcely fail of good
encouragement. I requested Webb not to mention it, but he told it to
Keimer, who immediately, to be beforehand with me, published proposals
for one himself, on which Webb was to be employed. I was vexed at this,
and to counteract them, not being able to commence our paper, I wrote
several amusing pieces for Bradford's paper, under the title of the
BUSYBODY, which Brientnal continued some months. By this means the
attention of the public was fixed on that paper, and Keimer's proposals,
which we burlesqued and ridiculed, were disregarded. He began his paper,
however, and before carrying it on three quarters of a year, with at
most only ninety subscribers, he offered it me for a trifle; and I
having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in hand directly,
and it proved in a few years extremely profitable to me.

I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular number, though our
partnership still continued; it may be that, in fact, the whole
management of the business lay upon me. Meredith was no compositor, a
poor pressman, and seldom sober. My friends lamented my connexion with
him, but I was to make the best of it.

Our first papers made quite a different appearance from any before
printed in the province; a better type, and better printed; but some
remarks of my writing on the dispute then going on between Governor
Burnet and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the principal people,
occasioned the paper and the manager of it to be much talked of, and in
a few weeks brought them all to be our subscribers.

Their example was followed by many, and our number went on growing
continually. This was one of the first good effects of my having
learned a little to scribble; another was, that the leading men, seeing
a newspaper now in the hands of those who could also handle a pen,
thought it convenient to oblige and encourage me. Bradford still printed
the votes, and laws, and other public business. He had printed an
address of the house to the governor in a coarse, blundering manner; we
reprinted it elegantly and correctly, and sent one to every member. They
were sensible of the difference; it strengthened the hands of our
friends in the house; and they voted us their printers for the year
ensuing.

Among my friends in the house I must not forget Mr. Hamilton, before
mentioned, who was then returned from England, and had a seat in it. He
interested himself for me strongly in that instance, as he did in many
others afterward, continuing his patronage till his death.[9]

Mr. Vernon, about this time, put me in mind of the debt I owed him, but
did not press me. I wrote him an ingenuous letter of acknowledgment,
craving his forbearance a little longer, which he allowed me; as soon as
I was able, I paid the principal with the interest, and many thanks: so
that _erratum_ was in some degree corrected.

But now another difficulty came upon me which I had never the least
reason to expect. Mr. Meredith's father, who was to have paid for our
printing-house, according to the expectations given me, was able to
advance only one hundred pounds currency, which had been paid; and a
hundred more was due to the merchant, who grew impatient, and sued us
all. We gave bail, but saw that, if the money could not be raised in
time, the suit must soon come to a judgment and execution, and our
hopeful prospects must with us be ruined, as the press and letters must
be sold for payment, perhaps at half price. In this distress two true
friends, whose kindness I have never forgotten, nor ever shall forget
while I can remember anything, came to me separately, unknown to each
other, and without any application from me, offered each of them to
advance me all the money that should be necessary to enable me to take
the whole business upon myself, if that should be practicable; but they
did not like my continuing the partnership with Meredith, who, as they
said, was often seen drunk in the street, playing at low games in
alehouses much to our discredit; these two friends were _William
Coleman_ and _Robert Grace_. I told them I could not propose a
separation while any prospect remained of the Merediths fulfilling their
part of our agreement, because I thought my self under great obligations
to them for what they had done and would do if they could: but if they
finally failed in their performance, and our partnership must be
dissolved, I should then think myself at liberty to accept the
assistance of my friends: thus the matter rested for some time; when I
said to my partner, perhaps your father is dissatisfied at the part you
have undertaken in this affair of ours, and is unwilling to advance for
you and me what he would for you? If that is the case, tell me, and I
will resign the whole to you, and go about my business. No, said he, my
father has really been disappointed, and is really unable; and I am
unwilling to distress him farther. I see this is a business I am not fit
for. I was bred a farmer, and it was a folly in me to come to town and
put myself, at thirty years of age, an apprentice to learn a new trade.
Many of our Welsh people are going to settle in North Carolina, where
land is cheap. I am inclined to go with them, and follow my old
employment: you may find friends to assist you: if you will take the
debts of the company upon you, return to my father the hundred pounds he
has advanced, pay my little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds
and a new saddle, I will relinquish the partnership, and leave the whole
in your hands. I agreed to this proposal; it was drawn up in writing,
signed and sealed immediately. I gave him what he demanded, and he went
soon after to Carolina; whence he sent me, next year, two long letters,
containing the best account that had been given of that country, the
climate, the soil, husbandry, &c., for in those matters he was very
judicious: I printed them in the papers, and they gave great
satisfaction to the public.

As soon as he was gone I recurred to my two friends; and because I would
not give an unkind preference to either, I took half what each had
offered, and I wanted, of one, and half of the other; paid off the
company's debts, and went on with the business in my own name,
advertising that the partnership was dissolved. I think this was in or
about the year 1729.

About this time there was a cry among the people for more paper money;
only fifteen thousand pounds being extant in the province, and that soon
to be sunk. The wealthy inhabitants opposed any addition, being against
all currency, from the apprehension that it would depreciate, as it had
done in New-England, to the injury of all creditors. We had discussed
this point in our junto, where I was on the side of an addition; being
persuaded that the first small sum, struck in 1723, had done much good
by increasing the trade, employment, and number of inhabitants in the
province; since I now saw all the old houses inhabited, and many new
ones building; whereas I remembered well, when I first walked about the
streets of Philadelphia (eating my roll), I saw many of the houses in
Walnut-street, between Second and Front streets, with bills on their
doors "_to be let_;" and many, likewise, in Chestnut-street and other
streets which made me think the inhabitants of the city were one after
another deserting it. Our debates possessed me so fully of the subject,
that I wrote and printed an anonymous pamphlet on it, entitled, "_The
Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency_." It was well received by the
common people in general, but the rich men disliked it, for it increased
and strengthened the clamour for more money; and they happening to have
no writers among them that were able to answer it, their opposition
slackened, and the point was carried by a majority in the house. My
friends there, who considered I had been of some service, thought fit to
reward me by employing me in printing the money; a very profitable job,
and a great help to me; this was another advantage gained by my being
able to write.

The utility of this currency became by time and experience so evident,
that the principles upon which it was founded were never afterward much
disputed; so that it grew soon to fifty-five thousand pounds; and in
1739, to eighty thousand pounds, trade, building, and inhabitants all
the while increasing: though I now think there are limits beyond which
the quantity may be hurtful.

I soon after obtained, through my friend Hamilton, the printing of the
Newcastle paper money, another profitable job, as I then thought it,
small things appearing great to those in small circumstances: and these
to me were really great advantages, as they were great encouragements.
Mr. Hamilton procured me also the printing of the laws and votes of that
government, which continued in my hands as long as I followed the
business.

I now opened a small stationer's shop: I had in it blanks of all kinds,
the correctest that ever appeared among us. I was assisted in that by my
friend Breintnal: I had also paper, parchment, chapmen's books, &c. One
Whitemash, a compositor I had known in London, an excellent workman, now
came to me, and worked with me constantly and diligently; and I took an
apprentice, the son of Aquilla Rose.

I began now gradually to pay off the debt I was under for the
printing-house. In order to secure my credit and character as a
tradesman, I took care not only to be in _reality_ industrious and
frugal, but to avoid the appearances to the contrary. I dressed plain,
and was seen at no places of idle diversion: I never went out a fishing
or shooting: a book, indeed, sometimes debauched me from my work, but
that was seldom, was private, and gave no scandal: and to show that I
was not above my business, I sometimes brought home the paper I
purchased at the stores through the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus,
being esteemed an industrious, thriving young man, and paying duly for
what I bought, the merchants who imported stationary solicited my
custom; others proposed supplying me with books, and I went on
prosperously. In the mean time Keimer's credit and business declining
daily, he was at last forced to sell his printing-house to satisfy his
creditors. He went to Barbadoes, and there lived some years in very poor
circumstances.

His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had instructed while I worked with
him, set up in his place at Philadelphia, having bought his materials. I
was at first apprehensive of a powerful rival in Harry, as his friends
were very able, and had a good deal of interest: I therefore proposed a
partnership to him, which he, fortunately for me, rejected with scorn.
He was very proud, dressed like a gentleman, lived expensively, took
much diversion and pleasure abroad, ran in debt, and neglected his
business; upon which, all business left him; and, finding nothing to do,
he followed Keimer to Barbadoes, taking the printing-house with him.
There this apprentice employed his former master as a journeyman; they
quarrelled often, and Harry went continually behindhand, and at length
was obliged to sell his types and return to country-work in
Pennsylvania. The person who bought them employed Keimer to use them,
but a few years after he died.

There remained now no other printer in Philadelphia but the old
Bradford; but he was rich and easy, did a little in the business by
straggling hands, but was not anxious about it: however, as he held the
postoffice, it was imagined he had better opportunities of obtaining
news, his paper was thought a better distributor of advertisements than
mine, and therefore had many more; which was a profitable thing to him,
and a disadvantage to me. For though I did indeed receive and send
papers by the post, yet the public opinion was otherwise; for what I did
send was by bribing the riders, who took them privately; Bradford being
unkind enough to forbid it, which occasioned some resentment on my part,
and I thought so meanly of the practice, that, when I afterward came
into his situation, I took care never to imitate it.

I had hitherto continued to board with Godfrey, who lived in part of my
house with his wife and children, and had one side of the shop for his
glazier's business, though he worked little, being always absorbed in
his mathematics. Mrs. Godfrey projected a match for me with a relation's
daughter, took opportunities of bringing us often together, till a
serious courtship on my part ensued, the girl being in herself very
deserving. The old folks encouraged me by continual invitations to
supper, and by leaving us together, till at length it was time to
explain. Mrs. Godfrey managed our little treaty. I let her know that I
expected as much money with their daughter as would pay off my remaining
debt for the printing-house; which I believe was not then above a
hundred pounds. She brought me word they had no such sum to spare: I
said they might mortgage their house in the loan office. The answer to
this after some days was, that they did not approve the match; that, on
inquiry of Bradford, they had been informed the printing business was
not a profitable one; the types would soon be worn out, and more wanted;
that Keimer and David Harry had failed one after the other, and I should
probably soon follow them; and, therefore, I was forbidden the house,
and the daughter shut up. Whether this was a real change of sentiment,
or only artifice on a supposition of our being too far engaged in
affection to retract, and therefore that we should steal a marriage,
which would leave them at liberty to give or withhold what they pleased,
I know not. But I suspected the motive, resented it, and went no more.
Mrs. Godfrey brought me afterward some more favourable accounts of their
disposition, and would have drawn me on again; but I declared absolutely
my resolution to have nothing more to do with that family. This was
resented by the Godfreys; we differed, and they removed, leaving me the
whole house, and I resolved to take no more inmates. But this affair
having turned my thoughts to marriage, I looked round me and made
overtures of acquaintance in other places; but soon found that the
business of a printer being generally thought a poor one, I was not to
expect money with a wife, unless with such a one as I should not
otherwise think agreeable.

A friendly correspondence, as neighbours, had continued between me and
Miss Read's family, who all had a regard for me from the time of my
first lodging in their house. I was often invited there, and consulted
in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was of service. I pitied poor Miss
Read's unfortunate situation, who was generally dejected, seldom
cheerful, and avoided company: I considered my giddiness and inconstancy
when in London, as in a great degree the cause of her unhappiness,
though the mother was good enough to think the fault more her own than
mine, as she had prevented our marrying before I went thither, and
persuaded the other match in my absence. Our mutual affection was
revived, but there was now great objections to our union; that match was
indeed looked upon as invalid, a preceding wife being said to be living
in England; but this could not easily be proved, because of the
distance, &c., and though there was a report of his death, it was not
certain. Then, though it should be true, he had left many debts which
his successor might be called upon to pay: we ventured, however, over
all these difficulties, and I took her to wife, Sept. 1, 1730. None of
the inconveniences happened that we had apprehended; she proved a good
and faithful helpmate, assisted me much by attending to the shop; we
throve together, and ever mutually endeavoured to make each other happy.
Thus I corrected that great _erratum_ as well as I could.

About this time our club, meeting, not at a tavern, but in a little room
of Mr. Grace's set apart for that purpose, a proposition was made by me,
that, since our books were often referred to in our disquisitions upon
the queries, it might be convenient to us to have them all together when
we met, that, upon occasion, they might be consulted; and by thus
clubbing our books to a common library, we should, while we liked to
keep them together, have each of us the advantage of using the books of
all the other members, which would be nearly as beneficial as if each
owned the whole. It was liked and agreed to, and we filled one end of
the room with such books as we could best spare. The number was not so
great as we expected; and though they had been of great use, yet some
inconveniences occurring for want of due care of them, the collection,
after about a year, was separated, and each took his books home again.

And now I set on foot my first project of a public nature, that for a
subscription library; I drew up the proposals, got them put into form
by our great scrivener, Brockden, and, by the help of my friends in the
junto, procured fifty subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with,
and ten shillings a year for fifty years, the term our company was to
continue. We afterward obtained a charter, the company being increased
to one hundred; this was the mother of all the North American
subscription libraries, now so numerous. It is become a great thing
itself, and continually goes on increasing: these libraries have
improved the general conversation of the Americans, made the common
tradesmen and farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from other
countries, and perhaps have contributed in some degree to the stand so
generally made throughout the colonies in defence of their privileges.

[Thus far was written with the intention expressed in the beginning;
and, getting abroad, it excited great interest on account of its
simplicity and candour; and induced many applications for a continuance.
What follows was written many years after, in compliance with the advice
contained in the letters that follow, and has, therefore, less of a
family picture and more of a public character. The American revolution
occasioned the interruption.]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Dr. Shipley.

[2] Perhaps from the time when the name of FRANKLIN, which before was
the name of an order of people, was assumed by them for a _surname_,
when others took surnames all over the kingdom.

As a proof that Franklin was anciently the common name of an order or
rank in England, see Judge Fortescue, _De laudibus Legum Angliæ_,
written about the year 1412, in which is the following passage, to show
that good juries might easily be formed in any part of England:

"Regio etiam illa, ita respersa refertaque est _possessoribus terrarum_
et agrorum, quod in ea, villula tam parva reperiri non poterit, in qua
non est _miles_, _armiger_, vel pater-familias, qualis ibidem
_Frankleri_ vulgariter nuncupatur, magnis ditatus possessionibus, nec
non libere tenentes et alii _valecti_ plurimi, suis patrimoniis
sufficientes, ad faciendum juratam, in forma prænotata.

"Moreover, the same country is so filled and replenished with landed
menne, that therein so small a thorpe cannot be found wherein dweleth
not a knight, an esquire, or such a householder as is there commonly
called a _Franklin_, enriched with great possessions; and also other
freeholders and many yeomen, able for their livelihoodes to make a jury
in form aforementioned."--_Old Translation._

Chaucer, too, calls his country-gentleman a _Franklin_; and after
describing his good housekeeping, thus characterizes him:

"This worthy Franklin bore a purse of silk
Fix'd to his girdle, white as morning milk;
Knight of the shire, first justice at th' assize,
To help the poor, the doubtful to advise.
In all employments, generous, just he proved,
Renown'd for courtesy, by all beloved."

[3] _Copy of an original letter, found among Dr. Franklin's papers, from
Josiah to B. Franklin._

Boston, May 26, 1739.

LOVING SON,--As to the original of our name there is various
opinions; some say that it came from a sort of title of which a
book, that you bought when here, gives a lively account. Some think
we are of a French extract, which was formerly called Franks; some
of a free line; a line free from that vassalage which was common to
subjects in days of old; some from a bird of long red legs. Your
uncle Benjamin made inquiry of one skilled in heraldry, who told
him there is two coats of armour, one belonging to the Franklins of
the north, and one to the Franklins of the west. However, our
circumstances have been such as that it hath hardly been worth
while to concern ourselves much about these things, any farther
than to tickle the fancy a little.

The first that I can give account of is my great grandfather, as it
was a custom in those days among young men too many times to goe to
seek their fortune, and in his travels he went upon liking to a
taylor; but he kept such a stingy house, that he left him and
travelled farther, and came to a smith's house, and coming on a
fasting day, being in popish times, he did not like there the first
day; the next morning the servant was called up at five in the
morning, but after a little time came a good toast and good beer,
and he found good housekeeping there; he served and learned the
trade of a smith.

In Queen Mary's days, either his wife, or my grandmother by
father's side, informed my father that they kept their Bible
fastened under the top of a joint-stool that they might turn up the
book and read in the Bible; that, when anybody came to the dore,
they turned up the stool for fear of the apparitor; for if it was
discovered they would be in hazard of their lives. My grandfather
was a smith also, and settled at Ecton, in Northamptonshire, and he
was imprisoned a year and a day on suspicion of his being the
author of some poetry that touched the character of some great man.
He had only one son and one daughter; my grandfather's name was
Henry, my father's name was Thomas, my mother's name was Jane. My
father was born at Ecton or Eton, Northamptonshire, on the 18th of
October, 1598; married to Miss Jane White, niece to Coll White, of
Banbury, and died in the 84th year of his age. There was nine
children of us who were happy in our parents, who took great care
by their instructions and pious example to breed us up in a
religious way. My eldest brother had but one child, which was
married to one Mr. Fisher, at Wallingborough, in Northamptonshire.
The town was lately burned down, and whether she was a sufferer or
not I cannot tell, or whether she be living or not. Her father died
worth fifteen hundred pounds, but what her circumstances are now I
know not. She hath no child. If you by the freedom of your office,
makes it more likely to convey a letter to her, it would be
acceptable to me. There is also children of brother John and sister
Morris, but I hear no thing from them, and they write not to me, so
that I know not where to find them. I have been again to about
seeing ... but have missed of being informed. We received yours,
and are glad to hear poor Jammy is recovered so well. Son John
received the letter, but is so busy just now that he cannot write
you an answer, but will do the best he can. Now with hearty love
to, and prayer for you all, I rest your affectionate father,

JOSIAH FRANKLIN.

[4] Sherburne, in the island of Nantucket.

[5] The number in 1817 exceeds 400

[6]
"Silence, ye wolves, while _Ralph_ to Cynthia howls,
And makes night hideous: answer him, ye owls!"

POPE'S _Dunciad_, b. iii., v. 165.

[7] F. R. S., author of "A View of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophy," and
"A Treatise on Chymistry;" died in 1771.

[8] A printing-house is always called a _chapel_ by the workmen, because
printing was first carried on in England in an ancient chapel, and the
title has been preserved by tradition. The _bien venu_ among the
printers, answers to the terms _entrance_ and _footing_ among mechanics;
thus a journeyman, on entering a printing-house, was accustomed to pay
one or more gallons of beer _for the good of the chapel_; this custom
was falling into disuse thirty years ago; it is very properly rejected
entirely in the United States.

[9] I afterward obtained for his son _five hundred pounds_.

PART II.

_From Mr. Abel James (received in Paris)._

"MY DEAR AND HONOURED FRIEND,

"I have often been desirous of writing to thee, but could not be
reconciled to the thought that the letter might fall into the hands
of the British, lest some printer or busybody should publish some
part of the contents, and give our friend pain and myself censure.

"Some time since there fell into my hands, to my great joy, about
twenty-three sheets in thy own handwriting, containing an account
of the parentage and life of thyself, directed to thy son, ending
in the year 1730, with which there were notes, likewise in thy
writing; a copy of which I enclose, in hopes it may be a means, if
thou continued it up to a later period, that the first and latter
part may be put together; and if it is not yet continued, I hope
thee will not delay it. Life is uncertain, as the preacher tells
us; and what will the world say, if kind, humane, and benevolent
Ben Franklin should leave his friends and the world deprived of so
pleasing and profitable a work; a work which would be useful and
entertaining not only to a few, but to millions? The influence
writings under that class have on the minds of youth is very great,
and has nowhere appeared to me so plain as in our public friend's
journals. It almost insensibly leads the youth into the resolution
of endeavouring to become as good and eminent as the journalist.
Should thine, for instance, when published (and I think they could
not fail of it), lead the youth to equal the industry and
temperance of thy early youth, what a blessing with that class
would such a work be! I know of no character living, nor many of
them put together, who has so much in his power as thyself to
promote a greater spirit of industry and early attention to
business, frugality, and temperance, with the American youth. Not
that I think the work would have no other merit and use in the
world; far from it: but the first is of such vast importance, that
I know nothing that can equal it."

The foregoing letter, and the minutes accompanying it, being shown to a
friend, I received from him the following:

_From Mr. Benjamin Vaughan._
"Paris, January 31, 1783.

"MY DEAREST SIR,

"When I had read over your sheets of minutes of the principal
incidents of your life, recovered for you by your Quaker
acquaintance, I told you I would send you a letter expressing my
reasons why I thought it would be useful to complete and publish it
as he desired. Various concerns have, for some time past, prevented
this letter being written, and I do not know whether it was worth
any expectation; happening to be at leisure, however, at present, I
shall, by writing, at least interest and instruct myself; but as
the terms I am inclined to use may tend to offend a person of your
manners, I shall only tell you how I would address any other person
who was as good and as great as yourself, but less diffident. I
would say to him, sir, I solicit the history of your life, from the
following motives:

"Your history is so remarkable, that, if you do not give it,
somebody else will most certainly give it; and perhaps so as nearly
to do as much harm as your own management of the thing might do
good.

"It will, morever, present a table of the internal circumstances of
your country, which will very much tend to invite to it settlers of
virtuous and manly minds. And, considering the eagerness with
which such information is sought by them, and the extent of your
reputation, I do not know of a more efficacious advertisement than
your biography would give.

"All that has happened to you is also connected with the detail of
the manners and situation of a _rising_ people; and in this respect
I do not think that the writings of Cæsar and Tacitus can be more
interesting to a true judge of human nature and society.

"But these, sir, are small reasons, in my opinion, compared with
the chance which your life will give for the forming of future
great men; and, in conjunction with your _Art of Virtue_ (which you
design to publish), of improving the features of private character,
and, consequently, of aiding all happiness, both public and
domestic.

"The two works I allude to, sir, will, in particular, give a noble
rule and example of _self-education_. School and other education
constantly proceed upon false principles, and show a clumsy
apparatus pointed at a false mark; but your apparatus is simple,
and the mark a true one; and while parents and young persons are
left destitute of other just means of estimating and becoming
prepared for a reasonable course in life, your discovery, that the
thing is in many a man's private power, will be invaluable!

"Influence upon the private character, late in life, is not only an
influence late in life, but a weak influence. It is in _youth_ that
we plant our chief habits and prejudices; it is in youth that we
take our party as to profession, pursuits, and matrimony. In youth,
therefore, the turn is given; in youth the education even of the
next generation is given; in youth the private and public character
is determined; and the term of life extending but from youth to
age, life ought to begin well from youth; and more especially
_before_ we take our party as to our principal objects.

"But your biography will not merely teach self-education, but the
education of _a wise man_; and the wisest man will receive lights
and improve his progress by seeing detailed the conduct of another
wise man. And why are weaker men to be deprived of such helps, when
we see our race has been blundering on in the dark, almost without
a guide in this particular, from the farthest trace of time? Show
then, sir, how much is to be done, _both to sons and fathers_; and
invite all wise men to become like yourself, and other men to
become wise.

"When we see how cruel statesmen and warriors can be to the human
race, and how absurd distinguished men can be to their
acquaintance, it will be instructive to observe the instances
multiply of pacific, acquiescing manners; and to find how
compatible it is to be great and _domestic_; enviable and yet
_good-humoured_.

"The little private incidents which you will also have to relate,
will have considerable use, as we want, above all things, _rules of
prudence in ordinary affairs_; and it will be curious to see how
you have acted in these. It will be so far a sort of key to life,
and explain many things that all men ought to have once explained
to them, to give them a chance of becoming wise by foresight.

"The nearest thing to having experience of one's own, is to have
other people's affairs brought before us in a shape that is
interesting; this is sure to happen from your pen. Your affairs and
management will have an air of simplicity or importance that will
not fail to strike; and I am convinced you have conducted them with
as much originality as if you had been conducting discussions in
politics or philosophy; and what more worthy of experiments and
system (its importance and its errors considered) than human life!

"Some men have been virtuous blindly, others have speculated
fantastically, and others have been shrewd to bad purposes; but
you, sir, I am sure, will give, under your hand, nothing but what
is at the same moment wise, practical, and good.

"Your account of yourself (for I suppose the parallel I am drawing
for Dr. Franklin will hold not only in point of character, but of
private history) will show that you are ashamed of no origin; a
thing the more important as you prove how little necessary all
origin is to happiness, virtue, or greatness.

"As no end, likewise, happens without a means, so we shall find,
sir, that even you yourself framed a plan by which you became
considerable; but, at the same time, we may see that, though the
event is flattering, the means are as simple as wisdom could make
them; that is, depending upon nature, virtue, thought, and habit.

"Another thing demonstrated will be the propriety of every man's
waiting for his time for appearing upon the stage of the world. Our
sensations being very much fixed to the moment, we are apt to
forget that more moments are to follow the first, and,
consequently, that man should arrange his conduct so as to suit the
_whole_ of a life. Your attribution appears to have been applied to
your _life_, and the passing moments of it have been enlivened with
content and enjoyment, instead of being tormented with foolish
impatience or regrets. Such a conduct is easy for those who make
virtue and themselves their standard, and who try to keep
themselves in countenance by examples of other truly great men, of
whom patience is so often the characteristic.

"Your Quaker correspondent, sir (for here again I will suppose the
subject of my letter to resemble Dr. Franklin), praised your
frugality, diligence, and temperance, which he considered as a
pattern for all youth: but it is singular that he should have
forgotten your modesty and your disinterestedness, without which
you never could have waited for your advancement, or found your
situation in the mean time comfortable; which is a strong lesson to
show the poverty of glory, and the importance of regulating our
minds.

"If this correspondent had known the nature of your reputation as
well as I do, he would have said, your former writings and measures
would secure attention to your Biography and Art of Virtue; and
your Biography and Art of Virtue, in return, would secure attention
to them. This is an advantage attendant upon a various character,
and which brings all that belongs to it into greater play; and it
is the more useful, as, perhaps, more persons are at a loss for the
_means_ of improving their minds and characters than they are for
the time or the inclination to do it.

"But there is one concluding reflection, sir, that will show the
use of your life as a mere piece of biography. This style of
writing seems a little gone out of vogue, and yet it is a very
useful one; and your specimen of it may be particularly
serviceable, as it will make a subject of comparison with the lives
of various public cutthroats and intriguers, and with absurd
monastic self-tormentors or vain literary triflers. If it
encourages more writings of the same kind with your own, and
induces more men to spend lives fit to be written, it will be worth
all Plutarch's Lives put together.

"But being tired of figuring to myself a character of which every
figure suits only one man in the world, without giving him the
praise of it, I shall end my letter, my dear Dr. Franklin, with a
personal application to your proper self.

"I am earnestly desirous, then, my dear sir, that you should let
the world into the traits of your genuine character, as civil
broils may otherwise tend to disguise or traduce it. Considering
your great age, the caution of your character, and your peculiar
style of thinking, it is not likely that any one besides yourself
can be sufficiently master of the facts of your life or the
intentions of your mind.

"Besides all this, the immense revolution of the present period
will necessarily turn our attention towards the author of it; and
when virtuous principles have been pretended in it, it will be
highly important to show that such have really influenced; and, as
your own character will be the principal one to receive a scrutiny,
it is proper (even for its effects upon your vast and rising
country, as well as upon England and upon Europe) that it should
stand respectable and eternal. For the furtherance of human
happiness, I have always maintained that it is necessary to prove
that man is not even at present a vicious and detestable animal;
and still more to prove that good management may greatly amend him;
and it is for much the same reason that I am anxious to see the
opinion established, that there are fair characters among the
individuals of the race; for the moment that all men, without
exception, shall be conceived abandoned, good people will cease
efforts deemed to be hopeless, and, perhaps, think of taking their
share in the scramble of life, or, at least, of making it
comfortable principally for themselves.

"Take then, my dear sir, this work most speedily into hand: show
yourself good as you are good; temperate as you are temperate; and,
above all things, prove yourself as one who, from your infancy,
have loved justice, liberty, and concord, in a way that has made it
natural and consistent for you to act as we have seen you act in
the last seventeen years of your life. Let Englishmen be made not
only to respect, but even to love you. When they think well of
individuals in your native country, they will go nearer to thinking
well of your country; and when your countrymen see themselves
thought well of by Englishmen, they will go nearer to thinking well
of England. Extend your views even farther; do not stop at those
who speak the English tongue, but, after having settled so many
points in nature and politics, think of bettering the whole race of
men.

"As I have not read any part of the life in question, but know only
the character that lived it, I write somewhat at hazard. I am sure,
however, that the life, and the treatise I allude to (on the _Art
of Virtue_), will necessarily fulfil the chief of my expectations;
and still more so if you take up the measure of suiting these
performances to the several views above stated. Should they even
prove unsuccessful in all that a sanguine admirer of yours hopes
from them, you will at least have framed pieces to interest the
human mind; and whoever gives a feeling of pleasure that is
innocent to man, has added so much to the fair side of a life
otherwise too much darkened by anxiety and too much injured by
pain.

"In the hope, therefore, that you will listen to the prayer
addressed to you in this letter, I beg to subscribe myself, my dear
sir, &c., &c.,

"BENJ. VAUGHAN."

* * * * *

CONTINUATION,

_Begun at Passy, near Paris, 1784._

It is some time since I received the above letters, but I have been too
busy till now to think of complying with the request they contain. It
might, too, be much better done if I were at home among my papers, which
would aid my memory, and help to ascertain dates; but my return being
uncertain, and having just now a little leisure, I will endeavour to
recollect and write what I can: if I live to get home, it may there be
corrected and improved.

Not having any copy here of what is already written, I know not whether
an account is given of the means I used to establish the Philadelphia
public library, which, from a small beginning, is now become so
considerable, though I remember to have come down near the time of that
transaction (1730). I will, therefore, begin here with an account of it,
which may be struck out if found to have been already given.

At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania, there was not a good
bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the southward of Boston. In
New-York and Philadelphia the printers were, indeed, stationers, but
they sold only paper, &c., almanacs, ballads, and a few common
schoolbooks. Those who loved reading were obliged to send for their
books from England: the members of the Junto had each a few. We had left
the alehouse where we first met, and hired a room to hold our club in. I
proposed that we should all of us bring our books to that room, where
they would not only be ready to consult in our conferences, but become a
common benefit, each of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wished
to read at home. This was accordingly done, and for some time contented
us: finding the advantage of this little collection, I proposed to
render the benefit from the books more common, by commencing a public
subscription library. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would
be necessary, and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brockden, to
put the whole in form of articles of agreement to be subscribed; by
which each subscriber engaged to pay a certain sum down for the first
purchase of the books, and an annual contribution for increasing them.
So few were the readers at that time in Philadelphia, and the majority
of us so poor, that I was not able, with great industry, to find more
than fifty persons (mostly young tradesmen) willing to pay down for this
purpose forty shillings each, and ten shillings per annum; with this
little fund we began. The books were imported; the library was open one
day in the week for lending them to subscribers, on their promissory
notes to pay double the value if not duly returned. The institution soon
manifested its utility; was imitated by other towns and in other
provinces. The libraries were augmented by donations; reading became
fashionable; and our people, having no public amusements to divert their
attention from study, became better acquainted with books, and in a few
years were observed by strangers to be better instructed and more
intelligent than people of the same rank generally are in other
countries.

When we were about to sign the above-mentioned articles, which were to
be binding on us, our heirs, &c., for fifty years, Mr. Brockden, the
scrivener, said to us: "You are young men, but it is scarce probable
that any of you will live to see the expiration of the term fixed in the
instrument." A number of us, however, are yet living; but the instrument
was, after a few years, rendered null by a charter that incorporated and
gave perpetuity to the company.

The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting the
subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of presenting one's
self as the proposer of any useful project that might be supposed to
raise one's reputation in the smallest degree above that of one's
neighbours, when one has need of their assistance to accomplish that
project. I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, and
stated it as a scheme of a _number of friends_, who had requested me to
go about and propose it to such as they thought lovers of reading. In
this way my affairs went on more smoothly, and I ever after practised it
on such occasions, and from my frequent successes can heartily recommend
it. The present little sacrifice of your vanity will afterward be amply
repaid. If it remains a while uncertain to whom the merit belongs, some
one more vain than yourself will be encouraged to claim it, and then
even envy will be disposed to do you justice, by plucking those assumed
feathers and restoring them to their right owner.

This library afforded me the means of improvement by constant study, for
which I set apart an hour or two each day; and thus I repaired, in some
degree, the loss of the learned education my father once intended for
me. Reading was the only amusement I allowed myself. I spent no time in
taverns, games, or frolics of any kind, and my industry in my business
continued as indefatigable as it was necessary. I was indebted for my
printing-house, I had a young family coming on to be educated, and I had
two competitors to contend with for business who were established in the
place before me. My circumstances, however, grew daily easier. My
original habits of frugality continuing, and my father having, among his
instructions to me when a boy, frequently repeated a Proverb of Solomon,
"_seest thou a man diligent in his calling, he shall stand before kings,
he shall not stand before mean men_," I thence considered industry as a
means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encouraged me; though I
did not think that I should ever literally stand before kings, which,
however, has since happened; for I have stood before five, and even had
the honour of sitting down with one (the king of Denmark) to dinner.

We have an English proverb that says,

"He that would thrive
Must ask his wife."

It was lucky for me that I had one as much disposed to industry and
frugality as myself. She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding
and stitching pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for the
paper-makers, &c. We kept no idle servants; our table was plain and
simple, our furniture of the cheapest. For instance, my breakfast was,
for a long time, bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it out of a twopenny
earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon: but mark how luxury will enter
families, and make a progress in spite of principle; being called one
morning to breakfast, I found it in a china bowl, with a spoon of
silver. They had been bought for me without my knowledge by my wife, and
had cost her the enormous sum of three-and-twenty shillings; for which
she had no other excuse or apology to make, but that she thought _her_
husband deserved a silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his
neighbours. This was the first appearance of plate and china in our
house, which afterward, in a course of years, as our wealth increased,
augmented gradually to several hundred pounds in value.

I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; but though some of
the dogmas of that persuasion appeared unintelligible, and I early
absented myself from their public assemblies (Sunday being my studying
day), I never was without some religious principles: I never doubted,
for instance, the existence of a Deity; that he made the world, and
governed it by his providence; that the most acceptable service of God
was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal; and that all
crimes will be punished, and virtue rewarded, either here or hereafter.
These I esteemed the essentials of every religion; and being to be found
in all the religions we had in our country, I respected them all, though
with different degrees of respect, as I found them more or less mixed
with other articles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or
confirm morality, served principally to divide us, and make us
unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion that the
worst had some effects, induced me to avoid all discourse that might
tend to lessen the good opinion another might have of his own religion;
and as our province increased in people, and new places of worship were
continually wanted and generally erected by voluntary contribution, my
mite for such purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused.

Though I seldom attended any public worship, I had still an opinion of
its propriety and of its utility when rightly conducted, and I regularly
paid my annual subscription for the support of the only Presbyterian
minister or meeting we had in Philadelphia. He used to visit me
sometimes as a friend, and admonish me to attend his administrations;
and I was now and then prevailed on to do so; once for five Sundays
successively. Had he been in my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might
have continued, notwithstanding the occasion I had for the Sunday's
leisure in my course of study: but his discourses were chiefly either
polemic arguments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines of our
sect, and were all to me very dry, uninteresting, and unedifying, since
not a single moral principle was inculcated or enforced. I had some
years before composed a little liturgy or form of prayer for my own
private use (viz., in 1728), entitled _Articles of Belief and Acts of
Religion_. I returned to the use of this, and went no more to the public
assemblies. My conduct might be blameable, but I leave it without
attempting farther to excuse it; my present purpose being to relate
facts, and not to make apologies for them.

It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous project of
arriving at _moral perfection_; I wished to live without committing any
fault at any time, and to conquer all that either natural inclination,
custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew,
what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not _always_ do the
one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had undertaken a task of
more difficulty than I had imagined: while my attention was taken up,
and care employed in guarding against one fault, I was often surprised
by another; habit took the advantage of inattention; inclination was
sometimes too strong for reason. I concluded, at length, that the mere
speculative conviction, that it was our interest to be completely
virtuous, was not sufficient to prevent our slipping; and that the
contrary habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and established,
before we can have any dependance on a steady, uniform rectitude of
conduct. For this purpose I therefore tried the following method.

In the various enumerations of the _moral virtues_ I had met with in my
reading, I found the catalogue more or less numerous, as different
writers included more or fewer ideas under the same name. _Temperance_,
for example, was by some confined to eating and drinking; while by
others it was extended to mean the moderating of every other pleasure,
appetite, inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our avarice
and ambition. I proposed to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use
rather more names, with fewer ideas annexed to each, than a few names
with more ideas; and I included, under thirteen names of virtues, all
that at that time occurred to me as necessary or desirable, and annexed
to each a short precept, which fully expressed the extent I gave to its
meaning.

These names of _virtues_, with their precepts, were,

1. TEMPERANCE.--Eat not to dulness: drink not to elevation.

2. SILENCE.--Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself: avoid
trifling conversation.

3. ORDER.--Let all your things have their places: let each part of your
business have its time.

4. RESOLUTION.--Resolve to perform what you ought: perform without fail
what you resolve.

5. FRUGALITY.--Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself:
i.e., waste nothing.

6. INDUSTRY.--Lose no time: be always employed in something useful: cut
off all unnecessary actions.

7. SINCERITY.--Use no hurtful deceit: think innocently and justly: and,
if you speak, speak accordingly.

8. JUSTICE.--Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that
are your duty.

9. MODERATION.--Avoid extremes: forbear resenting injuries so much as
you think they deserve.

10. CLEANLINESS.--Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or
habitation.

11. TRANQUILLITY.--Be not disturbed at trifles, nor at accidents common
or unavoidable.

12. CHASTITY.

13. HUMILITY.

My intention being to acquire the _habitude_ of all these virtues, I
judged it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting the
whole at once, but to fix it on _one_ of them at a time; and when I
should be master of that, then to proceed to another; and so on till I
should have gone through the thirteen: and as the previous acquisition
of some might facilitate the acquisition of certain others, I arranged
them with that view as they stand above. _Temperance_ first, as it tends
to promote that coolness and clearness of head which is so necessary
where constant vigilance was to be kept up, and a guard maintained
against the unremitting attraction of ancient habits and the force of
perpetual temptations. This being acquired and established, _Silence_
would be more easy; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the same
time that I improved in virtue; and considering that in conversation it
was obtained rather by the use of the ear than of the tongue, and,
therefore, wishing to break a habit I was getting into of _prattling_,
_punning_, and _jesting_ (which only made me acceptable to trifling
company), I gave _Silence_ the second place. This and the next,
_Order_, I expected would allow me more time for attending to my project
and my studies _Resolution_, once become habitual, would keep me firm in
my endeavours to obtain all the subsequent virtues. _Frugality_ and
_Industry_, relieving me from my restraining debt, and producing
affluence and independence, would make more easy the practice of
_Sincerity_ and _Justice_, &c., &c. Conceiving then, that, agreeably to
the advice of Pythagoras in his Golden Verses, daily examination would
be necessary, I contrived the following method for conducting that
examination.

I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each of the
virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns,
one for each day of the week, marking each column with a letter for the
day. I crossed these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the
beginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues; on
which line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black
spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed
respecting that virtue upon that day.[10]

_Form of the pages._

TEMPERANCE.
Eat not to dulness: drink not to elevation.

+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| | Sun. | M. | T. | W. | Th. | F. | S. |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Tem. | | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Sil. | * | * | | * | | * | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Ord. | * | * | * | | * | * | * |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Res. | | * | | | | * | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Fru. | * | | | | | * | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Ind. | | | * | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Sinc.| | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Jus. | | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Mod. | | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Clea.| | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Tran.| | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Chas.| | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
| Hum. | | | | | | | |
+------+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+

I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues
successively. Thus, in the first week, my great guard was to every the
least offence against _Temperance_; leaving the other virtues to their
ordinary chance, only marking every evening the faults of the day. Thus,
if in the first week I could keep my first line marked T. clear of
spots, I supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and its
opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my attention to
include the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of
spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could get through a course
complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And like him
who, having a garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad
herbs at once (which would exceed his reach and his strength), but works
on one of the beds at a time, and having accomplished the first,
proceeds to a second, so I should have (I hoped) the encouraging
pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress made in virtue, by clearing
successively my lines of their spots, till, in the end, by a number of
courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean book, after a thirteen
week's daily examination.

This my little book had for its motto these lines from Addison's Cato:

"Here will I hold; if there's a power above us
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Through all her works), he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy."

Another from Cicero:

O vitæ philosophia dux! O virtutum indagatrix et expultrixque vitiorum!
Unus dies bene, et ex præceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitati est
anteponendus."

"Oh Philosophy, guide of life! Diligent inquirer after virtue, and
banisher of vice! A single day well spent, and as thy precepts direct,
is to be preferred to an eternity of sin."

Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking of wisdom or virtue:

"Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and
honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace."

And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought it right and
necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it; to this end I
formed the following little prayer, which was prefixed to my tables of
examination, for daily use.

"O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! Increase me in
that wisdom which discovers my truest interest: Strengthen my resolution
to perform what that wisdom dictates! Accept my kind offices to thy
other children as the only return in my power for thy continual favours
to me."

I used also, sometimes, a little prayer which I took from Thomson's
Poems, viz.,

"Father of light and life, thou God supreme!
Oh teach me what is good; teach me thyself!
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit; and fill my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure;
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!"

The precept of _Order_, requiring that _every part of my business should
have its allotted time_, one page in my little book contained the
following scheme of employment for the twenty-four hours of a natural
day.

SCHEME.

Hours.
_Morning._ { } Rise, wash, and address _Powerful
The Question { 5} Goodness_! Contrive day's business, and
What good shall { 6} take the resolution of the day; prosecute
I do this day? { 7} the present study, and breakfast.

8}
9} Work.
10}
11}

_Noon._ {12} Read, or look over my accounts, and
{ 1} dine.

{ 2}
_Afternoon._ { 3} Work.
{ 4}
{ 5}

_Evening._ { 6}
The Question, { 7} Put things in their places. Supper,
What good have { 8} music, or diversion, or conversation.
I done to-day? { 9} Examination of the day.

{10}
{11}
{12}
_Night._ { 1} Sleep.
{ 2}
{ 3}
{ 4}

I entered upon the execution of this plan for self-examination, and
continued it, with occasional intermissions, for some time. I was
surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined;
but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. To avoid the trouble
of renewing now and then my little book, which, by scraping out the
marks on the paper of old faults to make room for new ones in a new
course, became full of holes, I transferred my tables and precepts to
the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines were drawn
with red ink, that made a durable stain; and on those lines I marked my
faults with a black lead pencil; which marks I could easily wipe out
with a wet sponge. After a while I went through one course only in a
year; and afterward only one in several years; till at length I omitted
them entirely, being employed in voyages and business abroad, with a
multiplicity of affairs that interfered; but I always carried my little
book with me. My scheme of _Order_ gave me the most trouble; and I found
that though it might be practicable where a man's business was such as
to leave him the disposition of his time, that of a journeyman-printer,
for instance, it was not possible to be exactly observed by a master,
who must mix with the world, and often receive people of business at
their own hours. Order, too, with regard to places for things, papers,
&c., I found it extremely difficult to acquire. I had not been early
accustomed to _method_, and having an exceeding good memory, I was not
so sensible of the inconvenience attending want of method. This article,
therefore, cost me much painful attention, and my faults in it vexed me
so much, and I made so little progress in amendment, and had such
frequent relapses, that I was almost ready to give up the attempt, and
content myself with a faulty character in that respect. Like the man
who, in buying an axe of a smith my neighbour, desired to have the whole
of its surface as bright as the edge, the smith consented to grind it
bright for him if he would turn the wheel: he turned while the smith
pressed the broad face of the axe hard and heavily on the stone, which
made the turning of it very fatiguing. The man came every now and then
from the wheel to see how the work went on; and at length would take his
axe as it was, without farther grinding. "No," said the smith, "turn on,
we shall have it bright by-and-by; as yet 'tis only speckled." "Yes,"
said the man, "but _I think I like a speckled axe best_." And I believe
this may have been the case with many, who having, for the want of some
such means as I employed, found the difficulty of obtaining good and
breaking bad habits in other points of vice and virtue, have given up
the struggle, and concluded that "_a speckled axe was best_." For
something that pretended to be reason was every now and then suggesting
to me, that such extreme nicety as I exacted of myself, might be a kind
of foppery in morals, which, if it were known, would make me ridiculous;
that a perfect character might be attended with the inconvenience of
being envied and hated; and that a benevolent man should allow a few
faults in himself, to keep his friends in countenance. In truth, I found
myself incorrigible with respect to _Order_; and, now I am grown old and
my memory bad, I feel very sensibly the want of it. But, on the whole,
though I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of
obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavour, a
better and a happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not
attempted it; as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating the
engraved copies, though they may never reach the wished-for excellence
of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavour, and is tolerable
while it continues fair and legible.

It may be well my posterity should be informed, that to this little
artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor owed the constant
felicity of his life down to the 79th year, in which this is written.
What reverses may attend the remainder is in the hand of Providence:
but if they arrive, the reflection on past happiness enjoyed ought to
help his bearing them with more resignation. To _temperance_ he ascribes
his long-continued health, and what is still left to him of a good
constitution. To _industry and frugality_, the early easiness of his
circumstances and acquisition of his fortune, with all that knowledge
that enabled him to be a useful citizen and obtained for him some degree
of reputation among the learned. To _sincerity_ and _justice_, the
confidence of his country, and the honourable employs it conferred upon
him: and to the joint influence of the whole mass of the virtues, even
in the imperfect state he was able to acquire them, all that evenness of
temper and that cheerfulness in conversation which makes his company
still sought for, and agreeable even to his young acquaintance: I hope,
therefore, that some of my descendants may follow the example and reap
the benefit.

It will be remarked that, though my scheme was not wholly without
religion, there was in it no mark of any of the distinguishing tenets of
any particular sect; I had purposely avoided them; for being fully
persuaded of the utility and excellence of my method, and that it might
be serviceable to people in all religions, and intending some time or
other to publish it, I would not have anything in it that would
prejudice any one of any sect against it. I proposed writing a little
comment on each virtue, in which I would have shown the advantages of
possessing it, and the mischiefs attending its opposite vice; I should
have called my book _The Art of Virtue_, because it would have shown the
means and manner of obtaining virtue, which would have distinguished it
from the mere exhortation to be good, that does not instruct and
indicate the means; but is like the apostle's man of verbal charity,
who, without showing to the naked and hungry how or where they might get
clothes or victuals, only exhorted them to be fed and clothed James
ii., 15, 16.

But it so happened that my intention of writing and publishing this
comment was never fulfilled. I had, indeed, from time to time, put down
short hints of the sentiments, reasonings, &c., to be made use of in it,
some of which I have still by me: but the necessary close attention to
private business in the earlier part of life, and public business since,
have occasioned my postponing it. For it being connected in my mind with
_a great and extensive project_, that required the whole man to execute,
and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented my attending to,
it has hitherto remained unfinished.

In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce this doctrine,
_that vicious actions are not hurtful because they are forbidden, but
forbidden because they are hurtful_; the nature of man alone considered:
that it was, therefore, every one's interest to be virtuous, who wished
to be happy even in this world: and I should, from this circumstance
(there being always in the world a number of rich merchants, nobility,
states, and princes who have need of honest instruments for the
management of their affairs, and such being so rare), have endeavoured
to convince young persons, that no qualities are so likely to make a
poor man's fortune as those of _probity_ and _integrity_.

My list of virtues contained at first but twelve: but a Quaker friend
having kindly informed me that I was generally thought proud; that my
pride showed itself frequently in conversation; that I was not content
with being in the right when discussing any point, but was overbearing,
and rather insolent (of which he convinced me by mentioning several
instances), I determined to endeavour to cure myself, if I could, of
this vice or folly among the rest; and I added _humility_ to my list,
giving an extensive meaning to the word. I cannot boast of much success
in acquiring the _reality_ of this virtue, but I had a good deal with
regard to the appearance of it. I made it a rule to forbear all direct
contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of
mine own. I even forbid myself, agreeably to the old laws of our junto,
the use of every word or expression in the language that imported a
fixed opinion; such as _certainly_, _undoubtedly_, &c., and I adopted,
instead of them, _I conceive_, _I apprehend_, or _I imagine_ a thing to
be so or so; or it so _appears to me at present_. When another asserted
something that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasure of
contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately some absurdity in
his proposition; and in answering I began by observing that in certain
cases or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in the present
case there _appeared_, or _seemed to me_, some difference, &c. I soon
found the advantage of this change in my manners; the conversations I
engaged in went on more pleasantly. The modest way in which I proposed
my opinions procured them a readier reception and less contradiction; I
had less mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, and I more
easily prevailed with others to give up their mistakes and join with me
when I happened to be in the right. And this mode, which I at first put
on with some violence to natural inclination, became at length easy, and
so habitual to me, that perhaps for the fifty years past no one has ever
heard a dogmatical expression escape me. And to this habit (after my
character of integrity) I think it principally owing that I had early so
much weight with my fellow-citizens when I proposed new institutions or
alterations in the old, and so much influence in public councils when I
became a member: for I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to
much hesitation in my choice of words, hardly correct in language, and
yet I generally carried my point.

In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so hard to
subdue as _pride_; disguise it, struggle with it, stifle it, mortify it
as much as you please, it is still alive, and will every now and then
peep out and show itself; you will see it perhaps often in this history.
For even if I could conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should
probably be _proud_ of my _humility_.

[Here concludes what was written at Passy, near Paris.]

* * * * *

MEMORANDUM.

_I am now about to write at home (Philadelphia), August, 1788, but
cannot have the help expected from my papers, many of them being lost in
the war. I have, however, found the following_:

Having mentioned a _great and extensive project_ which I had conceived,
it seems proper that some account should be here given of that project
and its object. Its first rise in my mind appears in the above-mentioned
little paper, accidentally preserved, viz.:

OBSERVATIONS on my reading history, in library, May 9, 1731.

"That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolutions, &c., are
carried on and effected by parties.

"That the view of these parties is their present general interest; or
what they take to be such.

"That the different views of these different parties occasion all
confusion.

"That while a party is carrying on a general design, each man has his
particular private interest in view.

"That, as soon as a party has gained its general point, each member
becomes intent upon his particular interest, which, thwarting others,
breaks that party into divisions and occasions more confusion.

"That few in public affairs act from a mere view of the good of their
country, whatever they may pretend; and though their actings bring real
good to their country, yet men primarily considered that their own and
their country's interest were united, and so did not act from a
principle of benevolence.

"That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a view to the good of
mankind.

"There seems to me at present to be great occasion for raising a _United
Party for Virtue_, by forming the virtuous and good men of all nations
into a regular body, to be governed by suitable good and wise rules,
which good and wise men may probably be more unanimous in their
obedience to than common people are to common laws.

"I at present think, that whoever attempts this aright, and is well
qualified, cannot fail of pleasing God and of meeting with success. B.
F."

Revolving this project in my mind as to be undertaken hereafter, when my
circumstances should afford me the necessary leisure, I put down from
time to time, on pieces of paper, such thoughts as occurred to me
respecting it. Most of these are lost, but I find one purporting to be
the substance of an intended creed, containing, as I thought, the
essentials of every known religion, and being free of everything that
might shock the professors of any religion. It is expressed in these
words: viz.,

"That there is one God, who made all things.

"That he governs the world by his providence.

"That he ought to be worshipped by adoration, prayer, and thanksgiving.

"But that the most acceptable service to God is doing good to man.

"That the soul is immortal.

"And that God will certainly reward virtue and punish vice, either here
or hereafter."

My ideas at that time were, that the sect should be begun and spread at
first among young and single men only; that each person to be initiated
should not only declare his assent to such creed, but should have
exercised himself with the thirteen weeks' examination and practice of
the virtues, as in the before-mentioned model; that the existence of
such a society should be kept a secret till it was become considerable,
to prevent solicitations for the admission of improper persons; but that
the members should, each of them, search among his acquaintance for
ingenious, well-disposed youths, to whom, with prudent caution, the
scheme should be gradually communicated. That the members should engage
to afford their advice, assistance, and support to each other in
promoting one another's interest, business, and advancement in life:
that, for distinction, we should be called THE SOCIETY OF THE FREE AND
EASY. Free, as being, by the general practice and habits of the virtues,
free from the dominion of vice; and particularly by the practice of
industry and frugality, free from debt, which exposes a man to
constraint, and a species of slavery to his creditors.

This is as much as I can now recollect of the project, except that I
communicated it in part to two young men, who adopted it with
enthusiasm: but my then narrow circumstances, and the necessity I was
under of sticking close to my business, occasioned my postponing the
farther prosecution of it at that time, and my multifarious occupations,
public and private, induced me to continue postponing, so that it has
been omitted, till I have no longer strength or activity left sufficient
for such an enterprise. Though I am still of opinion it was a
practicable scheme, and might have been very useful, by forming a great
number of good citizens: and I was not discouraged by the seeming
magnitude of the undertaking, as I have always thought that one man of
tolerable abilities may work great changes and accomplish great affairs
among mankind, if he first forms a good plan; and, cutting off all
amusements or other employments that would divert his attention, makes
the connexion of that same plan his sole study and business.

In 1732 I first published my Almanac under the name of _Richard
Saunders_; it was continued by me about twenty-five years, and commonly
called _Poor Richard's Almanac_. I endeavoured to make it both
entertaining and useful, and it accordingly came to be in such demand
that I reaped considerable profit from it, vending annually near ten
thousand. And observing that it was generally read (scarce any
neighbourhood in the province being without it), I considered it as a
proper vehicle for conveying instruction among the common people, who
bought scarcely any other books. I therefore filled all the little
spaces that occurred between the remarkable days in the calendar with
proverbial sentences, chiefly such as inculcated industry and frugality
as the means of procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being
more difficult for a man in want to act always honestly, as (to use here
one of those proverbs) "_it is hard for an empty sack to stand
upright_." These proverbs, which contained the wisdom of many ages and
nations, I assembled and formed into a connected discourse, prefixed to
the Almanac of 1757 as the harangue of a wise old man to the people
attending an auction: the bringing all these scattered counsels thus
into a focus, enabled them to make greater impression. The piece, being
universally approved, was copied in all the newspapers of the American
Continent; reprinted in Britain on a large sheet of paper, to be stuck
up in houses; two translations were made of it in French, and great
numbers bought by the clergy and gentry to distribute gratis among their
poor parishioners and tenants. In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged
useless expense in foreign superfluities, some thought it had its share
of influence in producing that growing plenty of money which was
observable for several years after its publication.

I considered my newspaper also another means of communicating
instruction, and in that view frequently reprinted in it extracts from
the Spectator and other moral writers; and sometimes published little
pieces of mine own, which had been first composed for reading in our
_Junto_. Of these are a Socratic dialogue, tending to prove that,
whatever might be his parts and abilities, a vicious man could not
properly be called a man of sense; and a discourse on self-denial,
showing that virtue was not secure till its practice became a
_habitude_, and was free from the opposition of contrary inclinations:
these may be found in the papers about the beginning of 1735. In the
conduct of my newspaper I carefully excluded all libelling and personal
abuse, which is of late years become so disgraceful to our country.
Whenever I was solicited to insert anything of that kind, and the
writers pleaded (as they generally did) the liberty of the press, and
that a newspaper was like a stagecoach, in which any one who would pay
had a right to a place, my answer was, that I would print the piece
separately if desired, and the author might have as many copies as he
pleased to distribute himself, but that I would not take upon me to
spread his detraction; and that, having contracted with my subscribers
to furnish them with what might be either useful or entertaining, I
could not fill their papers with private altercation, in which they had
no concern, without doing them manifest injustice. Now, many of our
printers make no scruple of gratifying the malice of individuals by
false accusations of the fairest characters among ourselves, augmenting
animosity even to the producing of duels; and are, moreover, so
indiscreet as to print scurrilous reflections on the government of
neighbouring states, and even on the conduct of our best national
allies, which may be attended with the most pernicious consequences.
These things I mention as a caution to young printers, and that they may
be encouraged not to pollute the presses and disgrace their profession
by such infamous practices, but refuse steadily, as they may see by my
example that such a course of conduct will not, on the whole, be
injurious to their interests.

In 1733 I sent one of my journeymen to Charleston, South Carolina, where
a printer was wanting. I furnished him with a press and letters, on an
agreement of partnership, by which I was to receive one third of the
profits of the business, paying one third of the expense. He was a man
of learning, but ignorant in matters of account; and, though he
sometimes made me remittances, I could get no account from him, nor any
satisfactory state of our partnership while he lived. On his decease the
business was continued by his widow, who, being born and bred in
Holland, where (as I have been informed) the knowledge of accounts makes
a part of female education, she not only sent me as clear a statement as
she could find of the transactions past, but continued to account with
the greatest regularity and exactness every quarter afterward; and
managed the business with such success, that she not only reputably
brought up a family of children, but, at the expiration of the term, was
able to purchase of me the printing-house and establish her son in it. I
mention this affair chiefly for the sake of recommending that branch of
education for our young women, as likely to be of more use to them and
their children in case of widowhood than either music or dancing; by
preserving them from losses by imposition of crafty men, and enabling
them to continue, perhaps, a profitable mercantile house, with
established correspondence, till a son is grown up fit to undertake and
go on with it, to the lasting advantage and enriching of the family.

I had begun in 1733 to study languages; I soon made myself so much
master of the French as to be able to read the books in that language
with ease. I then undertook the Italian: an acquaintance, who was also
learning it, used often to tempt me to play chess with him: finding this
took up too much of the time I had to spare for study, I at length
refused to play any more, unless on this condition, that the victor in
every game should have a right to impose a task, either of parts of the
grammar to be got by heart, or in translations, &c., which tasks the
vanquished was to perform upon honour before our next meeting: as we
played pretty equally, we thus beat one another into that language. I
afterward, with a little painstaking, acquired as much of the Spanish as
to read their books also. I have already mentioned that I had only one
year's instruction in a Latin school, and that when very young, after
which I neglected that language entirely. But when I had attained an
acquaintance with the French, Italian, and Spanish, I was surprised to
find, on looking over a Latin Testament, that I understood more of that
language than I had imagined, which encouraged me to apply myself again
to the study of it; and I met with the more success, as those preceding
languages had greatly smoothed my way. From these circumstances, I have
thought there was some inconsistency in our common mode of teaching
languages. We are told that it is proper to begin first with the Latin,
and, having acquired that, it will be more easy to attain those modern
languages which are derived from it; and yet we do not begin with the
Greek in order more easily to acquire the Latin. It is true, that if we
can clamber and get to the top of a staircase without using the steps,
we shall more easily gain them in descending; but certainly, if we begin
with the lowest, we shall with more ease ascend to the top; and I would
therefore offer it to the consideration of those who superintend the
education of our youth, whether--since many of those who begin with the
Latin, quit the same after spending some years without having made any
great proficiency and what they have learned becomes almost useless, so
that their time has been lost--it would not have been better to have
begun with the French, proceeding to the Italian and Latin. For though,
after spending the same time, they should quit the study of languages
and never arrive at the Latin, they would, however, have acquired
another tongue or two, that, being in modern use, might be serviceable
to them in common life.

After ten years' absence from Boston, and having become easy in my
circumstances, I made a journey thither to visit my relations, which I
could not sooner afford. In returning, I called at Newport to see my
brother James, then settled there with his printing-house: our former
differences were forgotten, and our meeting was very cordial and
affectionate: he was fast declining in health, and requested of me that,
in case of his death, which he apprehended not far distant, I would take
home his son, then but ten years of age, and bring him up to the
printing business. This I accordingly performed, sending him a few years
to school before I took him into the office. His mother carried on the
business till he was grown up, when I assisted him with an assortment of
new types, those of his father being in a manner worn out. Thus it was
that I made my brother ample amends for the service I had deprived him
of by leaving him so early.

In 1736 I lost one of my sons, a fine boy of four years old, by the
smallpox, taken in the common way. I long regretted him bitterly, and
still regret that I had not given it to him by inoculation. This I
mention for the sake of parents who omit that operation, on the
supposition that they should never forgive themselves if a child died
under it; my example showing that the regret may be the same either way,
and, therefore, that the safer should be chosen.

Our club, the _Junto_, was found so useful, and afforded such
satisfaction to the members, that some were desirous of introducing
their friends, which could not well be done without exceeding what we
had settled as a convenient number, viz., twelve. We had, from the
beginning, made it a rule to keep our institution a secret, which was
pretty well observed; the intention was to avoid applications of
improper persons for admittance, some of whom, perhaps, we might find it
difficult to refuse. I was one of those who were against any addition to
our number; but, instead of it, made in writing a proposal, that every
member, separately, should endeavour to form a subordinate club, with
the same rules respecting queries, &c., and without informing them of
the connexion with the _Junto_. The advantages proposed were the
improvement of so many more young citizens by the use of our
institutions; our better acquaintance with the general sentiments of the
inhabitants on any occasion, as the junto member might propose what
queries we should desire, and was to report to the _Junto_ what passed
in his separate club: the promotion of our particular interests in
business by more extensive recommendation, and the increase of our
influence in public affairs, and our power of doing good by spreading
through the several clubs the sentiments of the _Junto_. The project was
approved, and every member undertook to form his club: but they did not
all succeed. Five or six only were completed, which were called by
different names, as the _Vine_, the _Union_, the _Band_, &c.; they were
useful to themselves, and afforded us a good deal of amusement,
information, and instruction, besides answering, in some degree, our
views of influencing the public on particular occasions; of which I
shall give some instances in course of time as they happened.

My first promotion was my being chosen, in 1736, clerk of the General
Assembly. The choice was made that year without opposition; but the year
following, when I was again proposed (the choice, like that of the
members, being annual), a new member made a long speech against me, in
order to favour some other candidate. I was, however, chosen, which was
the more agreeable to me, as, besides the pay for the immediate service
of clerk, the place gave me a better opportunity of keeping up an
interest among the members, which secured to me the business of printing
the votes, laws, paper money, and other occasional jobs for the public,
that, on the whole, were very profitable. I therefore did not like the
opposition of this new member, who was a gentleman of fortune and
education, with talents that were likely to give him, in time, great
influence in the house, which, indeed, afterward happened. I did not,
however, aim at gaining his favour by paying any servile respect to him,
but after some time took this other method. Having heard that he had in
his library a certain very scarce and curious book, I wrote a note to
him, expressing my desire of perusing that book, and requesting that he
would do me the favour of lending it to me for a few days. He sent it
immediately; and I returned it in about a week with another note,
expressing strongly my sense of the favour. When we next met in the
house, he spoke to me (which he had never done before), and with great
civility; and he ever after manifested a readiness to serve me on all
occasions, so that we became great friends, and our friendship continued
to his death. This is another instance of the truth of an old maxim I
had learned, which says, "_He that has once done you a kindness will be
more ready to do you another than he whom you yourself have obliged_."
And it shows how much more profitable it is prudently to remove, than to
resent, return, and continue inimical proceedings.

In 1737, Colonel Spotswood, late governor of Virginia, and then
postmaster-general, being dissatisfied with his deputy at Philadelphia
respecting some negligence in rendering, and want of exactness in
framing, his accounts, took from him his commission and offered it to
me. I accepted it readily, and found it of great advantage; for, though
the salary was small, it facilitated the correspondence that improved my
newspaper, increased the number demanded, as well as the advertisements
to be inserted, so that it came to afford me a considerable income. My
old competitor's newspaper declined proportionally, and I was satisfied,
without retaliating his refusal, while postmaster, to permit my papers
being carried by the riders. Thus he suffered greatly from his neglect
in due accounting; and I mention it as a lesson to those young men who
may be employed in managing affairs for others, that they should always
render accounts and make remittances with great clearness and
punctuality. The character of observing such a conduct is the most
powerful of recommendations to new employments and increase of business.

I began now to turn my thoughts to public affairs, beginning, however,
with small matters. The city watch was one of the first things that I
conceived to want regulation. It was managed by the constables of the
respective wards in turn; the constable summoned a number of
housekeepers to attend him for the night. Those who chose never to
attend, paid him six shillings a year to be excused, which was supposed
to go to hiring substitutes, but was, in reality, more than was
necessary for that purpose, and made the constableship a place of
profit; and the constable, for a little drink, often got such
ragamuffins about him as a watch that respectable housekeepers did not
choose to mix with. Walking the rounds, too, was often neglected, and
most of the nights spent in tippling: I thereupon wrote a paper, to be
read in Junto, representing these irregularities, but insisting more
particularly on the inequality of this six-shilling tax of the
constables, respecting the circumstances of those who paid it, since a
poor widow housekeeper, all whose property to be guarded by the watch
did not perhaps exceed the value of fifty pounds, paid as much as the
wealthiest merchant who had thousands of pounds worth of goods in his
stores. On the whole, I proposed, as a more effectual watch, the hiring
of proper men to serve constantly in the business; and, as a more
equitable way of supporting the charge, the levying of a tax that should
be proportioned to the property. This idea, being approved by the Junto,
was communicated to the other clubs, but as originating in each of them;
and though the plan was not immediately carried into execution, yet, by
preparing the minds of the people for the change, it paved the way for
the law, obtained a few years after, when the members of our clubs were
grown into more influence.

About this time I wrote a paper (first to be read in the Junto, but it
was afterward published) on the different accidents and carelessnesses
by which houses were set on fire, with cautions against them, and means
proposed of avoiding them. This was spoken of as a useful piece, and
gave rise to a project, which soon followed it, of forming a company for
the more ready extinguishing of fires, and mutual assistance in removing
and securing of goods when in danger. Associates in this scheme were
presently found amounting to thirty. Our articles of agreement obliged
every member to keep always in good order and fit for use a certain
number of leathern buckets, with strong bags and baskets (for packing
and transporting goods), which were to be brought to every fire; and we
agreed about once a month to spend a social evening together in
discoursing and communicating such ideas as occurred to us upon the
subject of fires as might be useful in our conduct on such occasions.
The utility of this institution soon appeared; and many more desiring to
be admitted than we thought convenient for one company, they were
advised to form another, which was accordingly done; and thus went on
one new company after another, till they became so numerous as to
include most of the inhabitants who were men of property; and now, at
the time of my writing this (though upward of fifty years since its
establishment), that which I first formed, called the UNION FIRE
COMPANY, still subsists; though the first members are all deceased but
one, who is older by a year than I am. The fines that have been paid by
members for absence at the monthly meetings have been applied to the
purchase of fire-engines, ladders, fire-hooks, and other useful
implements for each company; so that I question whether there is a city
in the world better provided with the means of putting a stop to
beginning conflagrations; and, in fact, since these institutions, the
city has never lost by fire more than one or two houses at a time, and
the flames have often been extinguished before the house in which they
began has been half consumed.

In 1739 arrived among us from Ireland the Reverend Mr. Whitefield, who
had made himself remarkable there as an itinerant preacher. He was at
first permitted to preach in some of our churches; but the clergy,
taking a dislike to him, soon refused him their pulpits, and he was
obliged to preach in the fields. The multitude of all sects and
denominations that attended his sermons were enormous, and it was a
matter of speculation to me (who was one of the number) to observe the
extraordinary influence of his oratory on his hearers, and how much
they admired and respected him. It was wonderful to see the change soon
made in the manners of our inhabitants. From being thoughtless or
indifferent about religion, it seemed as if all the world were growing
religious, so that one could not walk through the town in an evening
without hearing psalms sung in different families of every street. And
it being found inconvenient to assemble in the open air, subject to its
inclemencies, the building of a house to meet in was no sooner proposed,
and persons appointed to receive contributions, than sufficient sums
were soon received to procure the ground and erect the building, which
was one hundred feet long and seventy broad; and the work was carried
with such spirit as to be finished in a much shorter time than could
have been expected. Both house and ground were vested in trustees,
expressly for the use of _any preacher of any religious persuasion_ who
might desire to say something to the people at Philadelphia. The design
in building not being to accommodate any particular sect, but the
inhabitants in general.

Mr. Whitefield, on leaving us, went preaching all the way through the
colonies to Georgia. The settlement of that province had lately been
begun; but, instead of being made with hardy, industrious husbandmen,
accustomed to labour, the only people fit for such an enterprise, it was
with families of broken shopkeepers and other insolvent debtors; many of
indolent and idle habits, taken out of the jails, who, being set down in
the woods, unqualified for clearing land, and unable to endure the
hardships of a new settlement, perished in numbers, leaving many
helpless children unprovided for. The sight of their miserable situation
inspired the benevolent heart of Mr. Whitefield with the idea of
building an orphan-house there, in which they might be supported and
educated. Returning northward, he preached up this charity and made
large collections, for his eloquence had a wonderful power over the
hearts and purses of his hearers, of which I myself was an instance. I
did not disapprove of the design, but as Georgia was then destitute of
materials and workmen, and it was proposed to send them from
Philadelphia at a great expense, I thought it would have been better to
build the house at Philadelphia, and bring the children to it. This I
advised; but he was resolute in his first project, rejected my counsel,
and I therefore refused to contribute. I happened soon after to attend
one of his sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended to
finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing
from me: I had in my pocket a handful of copper-money, three or four
silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold; as he proceeded I began to
soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another stroke of his oratory
made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver; and he
finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the
collector's dish, gold and all! At this sermon there was also one of our
club, who, being of my sentiments respecting the building in Georgia,
and suspecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution,
emptied his pockets before he came from home; towards the conclusion of
the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and
applied to a neighbour who stood near him to lend him some money for the
purpose. The request was fortunately made to perhaps the only man in the
company who had the firmness not to be affected by the preacher. His
answer was, "_At any other time, friend Hopkinson, I would lend to thee
freely; but not now, for thee seems to me to be out of thy right
senses_."

Some of Mr. Whitefield's enemies affected to suppose that he would apply
these collections to his own private emolument; but I, who was
intimately acquainted with him (being employed in printing his sermons,
journals, &c.), never had the least suspicion of his integrity, but am
to this day decidedly of opinion that he was in all his conduct a
perfectly _honest man_; and methinks my testimony in his favour ought to
have the more weight, as we had no religious connexion. He used, indeed,
sometimes to pray for my conversion, but never had the satisfaction of
believing that his prayers were heard. Ours was a mere civil friendship,
sincere on both sides, and lasted to his death.

The last time I saw Mr. Whitefield was in London, when he consulted me
about his orphan-house concern, and his purpose of appropriating it to
the establishment of a college.

He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his words so perfectly
that he might be heard and understood at a great distance, especially as
his auditors observed the most perfect silence. He preached one evening
from the top of the courthouse steps, which are in the middle of
Market-street, and on the west side of Second-street, which crosses it
at right angles. Both streets were filled with his hearers to a
considerable distance: being among the hindmost in Market-street, I had
the curiosity to learn how far he could be heard, by retiring backward
down the street towards the river, and I found his voice distinct till I
came near Front-street, when some noise in that street obscured it.
Imagining then a semicircle, of which my distance should be the radius,
and that it was filled with auditors, to each of whom I allowed two
square feet, I computed that he might well be heard by more than thirty
thousand. This reconciled me to the newspaper accounts of his having
preached to 25,000 people in the fields, and to the history of generals
haranguing whole armies, of which I had sometimes doubted.

By hearing him often I came to distinguish easily between sermons newly
composed and those which he had often preached in the course of his
travels. His delivery of the latter was so improved by frequent
repetition, that every accent, every emphasis, every modulation of
voice, was so perfectly well-turned and well-placed, that, without being
interested in the subject, one could not help being pleased with the
discourse; a pleasure of much the same kind with that received from an
excellent piece of music. This is an advantage itinerant preachers have
over those who are stationary, as the latter cannot well improve their
delivery of a sermon by so many rehearsals. His writing and printing
from time to time gave great advantage to his enemies; unguarded
expressions, and even erroneous opinions delivered in preaching, might
have been afterward explained or qualified, by supposing others that
might have accompanied them, or they might have been denied; but _litera
scripta manet_--what is written remains: critics attacked his writings
violently, and with so much appearance of reason as to diminish the
number of his votaries and prevent their increase. So that I am
satisfied that if he had never written anything, he would have left
behind him a much more numerous and important sect; and his reputation
might in that case have been still growing, even after his death; as
there being nothing of his writing on which to found a censure and give
him a lower character, his proselytes would be left at liberty to
attribute to him as great a variety of excellences as their enthusiastic
admiration might wish him to have possessed.

My business was now constantly augmenting, and my circumstances growing
daily easier, my newspaper having become very profitable, as being for a
time almost the only one in this and the neighbouring provinces. I
experienced, too, the truth of the observation, "_that after getting the
first hundred pounds it is more easy to get the second_;" money itself
being of a prolific nature.

The partnership at Carolina having succeeded, I was encouraged to engage
in others, and to promote several of my workmen who had behaved well, by
establishing them with printing-houses in different colonies, on the
same terms with that in Carolina. Most of them did well, being enabled
at the end of our term (six years) to purchase the types of me and go on
working for themselves, by which means several families were raised.
Partnerships often finish in quarrels; but I was happy in this, that
mine were all carried on and ended amicably; owing, I think, a good deal
to the precaution of having very explicitly settled in our articles
everything to be done by, or expected from, each partner, so that there
was nothing to dispute, which precaution I would therefore recommend to
all who enter into partnership; for whatever esteem partners may have
for, and confidence in, each other at the time of the contract, little
jealousies and disgusts may arise, with ideas of inequality in the care
and burden, business, &c., which are attended often with breach of
friendship and of the connexion; perhaps with lawsuits and other
disagreeable consequences.

I had, on the whole, abundant reason to be satisfied with my being
established in Pennsylvania; there were, however, some things that I
regretted, there being no provision for defence nor for a complete
education of youth; no militia, nor any college: I therefore, in 1743,
drew up a proposal for establishing an academy; and at that time,
thinking the Rev. Richard Peters, who was out of employ, a fit person to
superintend such an institution, I communicated the project to him; but
he, having more profitable views in the service of the proprietors,
which succeeded, declined the undertaking: and not knowing another at
that time suitable for such a trust, I let the scheme lie a while
dormant. I succeeded better the next year, 1744, in proposing and
establishing a _Philosophical Society_. The paper I wrote for that
purpose will be found among my writings, if not lost with many others.

With respect to defence, Spain having been several years at war against
Great Britain, and being at length joined by France, which brought us
into great danger; and the laboured and long-continued endeavour of our
governor, Thomas, to prevail with our Quaker assembly to pass a militia
law, and make other provisions for the security of the province, having
proved abortive, I proposed to try what might be done by a voluntary
subscription of the people: to promote this, I first wrote and published
a pamphlet, entitled PLAIN TRUTH, in which I stated our helpless
situation in strong lights, with the necessity of a union and discipline
for our defence, and promised to propose in a few days an association,
to be generally signed for that purpose. The pamphlet had a sudden and
surprising effect. I was called upon for the instrument of association;
having settled the draught of it with a few friends, I appointed a
meeting of the citizens in the large building before-mentioned. The
house was pretty full; I had prepared a number of printed copies, and
provided pens and ink dispersed all over the room. I harangued them a
little on the subject, read the paper, explained it, and then
distributed the copies, which were eagerly signed, not the least
objection being made. When the company separated and the papers were
collected, we found above twelve hundred signatures; and other copies
being dispersed in the country, the subscribers amounted at length to
upward of ten thousand. These all furnished themselves, as soon as they
could, with arms, formed themselves into companies and regiments, chose
their own officers, and met every week to be instructed in the manual
exercise and other parts of military discipline. The women, by
subscriptions among themselves, provided silk collours, which they
presented to the companies, painted with different devices and mottoes,
which I supplied. The officers of the companies composing the
Philadelphia regiment, being met, chose me for their colonel; but,
conceiving myself unfit, I declined that station, and recommended Mr.
Lawrence, a fine person and a man of influence, who was accordingly
appointed. I then proposed a lottery to defray the expense of building a
battery below the town, and furnished with cannon: it filled
expeditiously, and the battery was soon erected, the merlons being
framed of logs and filled with earth. We bought some old cannon from
Boston; but these not being sufficient, we wrote to London for more,
soliciting, at the same time, our proprietaries for some assistance,
though without much expectation of obtaining it. Meanwhile, Colonel
Lawrence, ---- Allen, Abraham Taylor, Esquires, and myself, were sent to
New-York by the associators, commissioned to borrow some cannon of
Governor Clinton. He at first refused us peremptorily; but at a dinner
with his council, where there was great drinking of Madeira wine, as the
custom of that place then was, he softened by degrees, and said he would
lend us six. After a few more bumpers he advanced to ten; and at length
he very good-naturedly conceded eighteen. They were fine cannon, 18
pounders, with their carriages, which were soon transported and mounted
on our batteries, where the associators kept a nightly guard while the
war lasted: and, among the rest, I regularly took my turn of duty there
as a common soldier.

My activity in these operations was agreeable to the governor and
council; they took me into confidence, and I was consulted by them in
every measure where their concurrence was thought useful to the
association. Calling in the aid of religion, I proposed to them the
proclaiming a fast, to promote reformation and implore the blessing of
Heaven on our undertaking. They embraced the motion; but as it was the
first fast ever thought of in the province, the secretary had no
precedent from which to draw the proclamation. My education in
New-England, where a fast is proclaimed every year, was here of some
advantage: I drew it in the accustomed style; it was translated into
German, printed in both languages, and circulated through the province.
This gave the clergy of the different sects an opportunity of
influencing their congregations to join in the association, and it would
probably have been general among all but the Quakers if the peace had
not soon intervened.

In order of time, I should have mentioned before, that having, in 1742,
invented an open stove for the better warming of rooms, and, at the same
time, saving fuel, as the fresh air admitted was warmed in entering, I
made a present of the model to Mr. Robert Grace, one of my early
friends, who, having an iron furnace, found the casting of the plates
for these stoves a profitable thing, as they were growing in demand. To
promote that demand, I wrote and published a pamphlet, entitled, "_An
Account of the new-invented Pennsylvania Fireplaces; wherein their
construction and manner of operation is particularly explained, their
advantages above every method of warming rooms demonstrated, and all
objections that have been raised against the use of them answered and
obviated_," &c. This pamphlet had a good effect. Governor Thomas was so
pleased with the construction of this stove, as described in it, that he
offered to give me a patent for the sole vending of them for a term of
years; but I declined it, from a principle which has ever weighed with
me on such occasions, viz., _That as we enjoy great advantages from the
inventions of others, we should be glad of an opportunity to serve
others by any invention of ours; and this we should do freely and
generously_.

An ironmonger in London, however, assuming a good deal of my pamphlet,
and working it up into his own, and making some small change in the
machine, which rather hurt its operation, got a patent for it there, and
made, as I was told, a little fortune by it. And this is not the only
instance of patents taken out of my inventions by others, though not
always with the same success; which I never contested, as having no
desire of profiting by patents myself, and hating disputes. The use of
these fireplaces in very many houses, both here in Pennsylvania and the
neighbouring states, has been, and is, a great saving of wood to the
inhabitants.

Peace being concluded, and the association business therefore at an end,
I turned my thoughts again to the affair of establishing an academy. The
first step I took was to associate in the design a number of active
friends, of whom the Junto furnished a good part: the next was to write
and publish a pamphlet, entitled, "_Proposals relating to the Education
of Youth in Pennsylvania_." This I distributed among the principal
inhabitants gratis: and as soon as I could suppose their minds a little
prepared by the perusal of it, I set on foot a subscription for opening
and supporting an academy; it was to be paid in quotas yearly for five
years; by so dividing it, I judged the subscription might be larger; and
I believe it was so, amounting to no less, if I remember right, than
five thousand pounds.

In the introduction to these proposals, I stated their publication not
as an act of mine, but of some _public-spirited gentleman_; avoiding as
much as I could, according to my usual rule, the presenting myself to
the public as the author of any scheme for their benefit.

The subscribers, to carry the project into immediate execution, chose
out of their number twenty-four trustees, and appointed Mr. Francis,
then attorney-general, and myself, to draw up constitutions for the
government of the academy; which being done and signed, a house was
hired, masters engaged, and the schools opened; I think in the same
year, 1749.

The scholars increasing fast, the house was soon found too small, and we
were looking out for a piece of ground, properly situated, with intent
to build, when accident threw into our way a large house ready built,
which, with a few alterations, might well serve our purpose: this was
the building before mentioned, erected by the hearers of Mr. Whitefield,
and was obtained for us in the following manner.

It is to be noted, that the contributions to this building being made by
people of different sects, care was taken in the nomination of trustees,
in whom the building and ground were to be vested, that a predominance
should not be given to any sect, lest in time that predominance might be
a means of appropriating the whole to the use of such sect, contrary to
the original intention; it was for this reason that one of each sect was
appointed; viz., one Church of England man, one Presbyterian, one
Baptist, one Moravian, &c., who, in case of vacancy by death, were to
fill it by election among the contributors. The Moravian happened not to
please his colleagues, and on his death they resolved to have no other
of that sect; the difficulty then was, how to avoid having two of some
other sect, by means of the new choice. Several persons were named, and
for that reason not agreed to: at length one mentioned me, with the
observation that I was merely an honest man, and of _no sect_ at all,
which prevailed with them to choose me. The enthusiasm which existed
when the house was built had long since abated, and its trustees had not
been able to procure fresh contributions for paying the ground rent and
discharging some other debts the building had occasioned, which
embarrassed them greatly. Being now a member of both boards of
trustees, that for the building and that for the academy, I had a good
opportunity of negotiating with both and brought them finally to an
agreement, by which the trustees for the building were to cede it to
those of the academy; the latter undertaking to discharge the debt, to
keep for ever open in the building a large hall for occasional
preachers, according to the original intention, and maintain a free
school for the instruction of poor children. Writings were accordingly
drawn; and on paying the debts, the trustees of the academy were put in
possession of the premises; and by dividing the great and lofty hall
into stories, and different rooms above and below for the several
schools, and purchasing some additional ground, the whole was soon made
fit for our purpose, and the scholars removed into the building. The
whole care and trouble of agreeing with the workmen, purchasing
materials, and superintending the work, fell upon me, and I went through
it the more cheerfully, as it did not then interfere with my private
business, having the year before taken a very able, industrious, and
honest partner, Mr. David Hall, with whose character I was well
acquainted, as he had worked for me four years; he took off my hands all
care of the printing-office, paying me punctually my share of the
profits. This partnership continued eighteen years, successfully for us
both.

The trustees of the academy, after a while, were incorporated by a
charter from the governor; their funds were increased by contributions
in Britain, and grants of land from the proprietors, to which the
Assembly has since made considerable addition; and thus was established
the present University of Philadelphia. I have been continued one of its
trustees from the beginning (now near forty years), and have had the
very great pleasure of seeing a number of the youth who have received
their education in it distinguished by their improved abilities,
serviceable in public stations, and ornaments to their country.

When I was disengaged myself, as above mentioned, from private business,
I flattered myself that, by the sufficient though moderate fortune I had
acquired, I had found leisure during the rest of my life for
philosophical studies and amusements. I purchased all Dr. Spence's
apparatus, who had come from England to lecture in Philadelphia, and I
proceeded in my electrical experiments with great alacrity; but the
public, now considering me as a man of leisure, laid hold of me for
their purposes; every part of our civil government, and almost at the
same time, imposing some duty upon me. The governor put me into the
commission of the peace; the corporation of the city chose me one of the
common council, and soon after alderman; and the citizens at large
elected me a burgess to represent them in Assembly; this latter station
was the more agreeable to me, as I grew at length tired with sitting
there to hear the debates, in which, as clerk, I could take no part, and
which were often so uninteresting that I was induced to amuse myself
with making magic squares or circles, or anything to avoid weariness;
and I conceived my becoming a member would enlarge my power of doing
good. I would not, however, insinuate that my ambition was not flattered
by all these promotions: it certainly was; for, considering my low
beginning, they were great things to me: and they were still more
pleasing, as being so many spontaneous testimonies of the public good
opinion, and by me entirely unsolicited.

The office of justice of the peace I tried a little, by attending a few
courts and sitting on the bench to hear causes; but finding that more
knowledge of the common law than I possessed was necessary to act in
that station with credit, I gradually withdrew from it, excusing myself
by my being obliged to attend the higher duties of a legislator in the
Assembly. My election to this trust was repeated every year for ten
years, without my ever asking any elector for his vote, or signifying
either directly or indirectly any desire of being chosen. On taking my
seat in the house, my son was appointed their clerk.

The year following, a treaty being to be held with the Indians at
Carlisle, the governor sent a message to the house, proposing that they
should nominate some of their members, to be joined with some members of
council, as commissioners for that purpose. The house named the speaker
(Mr. Norris) and myself; and, being commissioned, we went to Carlisle
and met the Indians accordingly. As those people are extremely apt to
get drunk, and, when so, are very quarrelsome and disorderly, we
strictly forbade the selling any liquor to them; and when they
complained of this restriction, we told them that, if they would
continue sober during the treaty, we would give them plenty of rum when
the business was over. They promised this, and they kept their promise,
because they could get no rum; and the treaty was conducted very
orderly, and concluded to mutual satisfaction. They then claimed and
received the rum; this was in the afternoon; they were near one hundred
men, women, and children, and were lodged in temporary cabins, built in
the form of a square, just without the town. In the evening, hearing a
great noise among them, the commissioners walked to see what was the
matter; we found they had made a great bonfire in the middle of the
square: they were all drunk, men and women, quarrelling and fighting.
Their dark-coloured bodies, half naked, seen only by the gloomy light of
the bonfire, running after and beating one another with firebrands,
accompanied by their horrid yellings, formed a scene the most diabolical
that could well be imagined; there was no appeasing the tumult, and we
retired to our lodging. At midnight a number of them came thundering at
our door, demanding more rum, of which we took no notice. The next day,
sensible they had misbehaved in giving us that disturbance, they sent
three of their old counsellors to make their apology. The orator
acknowledged the fault, but laid it upon the rum; and then endeavoured
to excuse the rum by saying, "_The Great Spirit, who made all things,
made everything for some use, and whatever use he designed anything for,
that use it should always be put to_: now, when he made rum, he said,
'LET THIS BE FOR THE INDIANS TO GET DRUNK WITH;' and it must be so."
And, indeed, if it be the design of Providence to extirpate these
savages, in order to make room for the cultivators of the earth, it
seems not impossible that rum may be the appointed means. It has already
annihilated all the tribes who formerly inhabited the seacoast.

In 1751, Dr. Thomas Bond, a particular friend of mine, conceived the
idea of establishing a hospital in Philadelphia (a very beneficent
design, which has been ascribed to me, but was originally and truly his)
for the reception and cure of poor sick persons, whether inhabitants of
the province or strangers. He was zealous and active in endeavouring to
procure subscriptions for it; but the proposal being a novelty in
America, and, at first, not well understood, he met with but little
success. At length he came to me with the compliment, that he found
there was no such a thing as carrying a public-spirited project through
without my being concerned in it. "For," said he, "I am often asked by
those to whom I propose subscribing, _Have you consulted Franklin on
this business? And what does he think of it?_ And when I tell them that
I have not (supposing it rather out of your line), they do not
subscribe, but say, _they will consider it_." I inquired into the nature
and probable utility of the scheme, and, receiving from him a very
satisfactory explanation, I not only subscribed to it myself, but
engaged heartily in the design of procuring subscriptions from others:
previous, however, to the solicitation, I endeavoured to prepare the
minds of the people, by writing on the subject in the newspapers, which
was my usual custom in such cases, but which Dr. Bond had omitted. The
subscriptions afterward were more free and generous; but, beginning to
flag, I saw they would be insufficient without assistance from the
Assembly, and therefore proposed to petition for it, which was done. The
country members did not at first relish the project: they objected that
it could only be serviceable to the city, and, therefore, the citizens
alone should be at the expense of it; and they doubted whether the
citizens themselves generally approved of it. My allegation, on the
contrary, that it met with such approbation as to leave no doubt of our
being able to raise two thousand pounds by voluntary donations, they
considered as a most extravagant supposition, and utterly impossible. On
this I formed my plan; and asking leave to bring in a bill for
incorporating the contributors according to the prayer of their
petition, and granting them a blank sum of money, which leave was
obtained chiefly on the consideration that the house could throw the
bill out if they did not like it, I drew it so as to make the important
clause a conditional one, viz.: "And be it enacted by the authority
aforesaid, that when the said contributors shall have met and chosen
their managers and treasurer, and shall have raised by their
contributions a capital stock of two thousand pounds value (the yearly
interest of which is to be applied to the accommodation of the sick poor
in the said hospital, and of charge for diet, attendance, advice, and
medicines), and _shall make the same appear to the satisfaction of the
Speaker of the Assembly for the time being_, that then it shall and may
be lawful for the said speaker, and he is hereby required to sign an
order on the provincial treasurer, for the payment of two thousand
pounds, in two yearly payments, to the treasurer of the said hospital,
to be applied to the founding, building, and finishing of the same."
This condition carried the bill through; for the members who had opposed
the grant, and now conceived they might have the credit of being
charitable without the expense, agreed to its passage; and then, in
soliciting subscriptions among the people, we urged the conditional
promise of the law as an additional motive to give, since every man's
donation would be doubled: thus the clause worked both ways. The
subscriptions accordingly soon exceeded the requisite sum, and we
claimed and received the public gift, which enabled us to carry the
design into execution. A convenient and handsome building was soon
erected; the institution has, by constant experience, been found useful,
and flourishes to this day; and I do not remember any of my political
manoeuvres, the success of which, at the time, gave me more pleasure, or
wherein, after thinking of it, I more easily excused myself for having
made some use of cunning.

It was about this time that another projector, the Rev. Gilbert Tennent,
came to me with a request that I would assist him in procuring a
subscription for erecting a new meeting-house. It was to be for the use
of a congregation he had gathered among the Presbyterians, who were
originally disciples of Mr. Whitefield. Unwilling to make myself
disagreeable to my fellow-citizens by too frequently soliciting their
contributions, I absolutely refused. He then desired I would furnish him
with a list of the names of persons I knew by experience to be generous
and public spirited. I thought it would be unbecoming in me, after their
kind compliance with my solicitation, to mark them out to be worried by
other beggars, and therefore refused to give such a list. He then
desired I would at least give him my advice. That I will do, said I;
and, in the first place, I advise you to apply to all those who you know
will give something; next, to those who you are uncertain whether they
will give anything or not, and show them the list of those who have
given; and, lastly, do not neglect those who you are sure will give
nothing, for in some of them you may be mistaken. He laughed and thanked
me, and said he would take my advice. He did so, for he asked
_everybody_, and he obtained a much larger sum than he expected, with
which he erected the capacious and elegant meeting-house that stands in
Arch-street.

Our city, though laid out with a beautiful regularity, the streets
large, straight, and crossing each other at right angles, had the
disgrace of suffering those streets to remain long unpaved, and in wet
weather the wheels of heavy carriages ploughed them into a quagmire, so
that it was difficult to cross them; and in dry weather the dust was
offensive. I had lived near what was called the Jersey market, and saw,
with pain, the inhabitants wading in mud while purchasing their
provisions. A strip of ground down the middle of that market was at
length paved with brick, so that, being once in the market, they had
firm footing, but were often over their shoes in dirt to get there. By
talking and writing on the subject, I was at length instrumental in
getting the streets paved with stone between the market and the brick
foot-pavement that was on the side next the houses. This for some time
gave an easy access to the market dry shod; but the rest of the street
not being paved, whenever a carriage came out of the mud upon this
pavement, it shook off and left its dirt upon it, and it was soon
covered with mire, which was not removed, the city as yet having no
scavengers. After some inquiry I found a poor industrious man who was
willing to undertake keeping the pavement clean, by sweeping it twice a
week, carrying off the dirt from before all the neighbours' doors, for
the sum of sixpence per month, to be paid by each house. I then wrote
and printed a paper, setting forth the advantages to the neighbourhood
that might be obtained from this small expense; the greater ease in
keeping our houses clean, so much dirt not being brought in by people's
feet; the benefit to the shops by more custom, as buyers could more
easily get at them; and by not having, in windy weather, the dust blown
in upon their goods, &c. I sent one of these papers to each house, and
in a day or two went round to see who would subscribe to an agreement to
pay these sixpences; it was unanimously signed, and, for a time, well
executed. All the inhabitants of the city were delighted with the
cleanliness of the pavement that surrounded the market, it being a
convenience to all, and this raised a general desire to have all the
streets paved, and made the people more willing to submit to a tax for
that purpose. After some time I drew a bill for paving the city and
brought it into the Assembly. It was just before I went to England, in
1757, and did not pass till I was gone, and then with an alteration in
the mode of assessment, which I thought not for the better; but with an
additional provision for lighting as well as paving the streets, which
was a great improvement. It was by a private person, the late Mr. John
Clifton, giving a sample of the utility of lamps, by placing one at his
door, that the people were first impressed with the idea of lighting all
the city. The honour of this public benefit has also been ascribed to
me, but it belongs truly to that gentleman. I did but follow his
example, and have only some merit to claim respecting the form of our
lamps, as differing from the globe lamps we were at first supplied with
from London. They were found inconvenient in these respects: they
admitted no air below; the smoke, therefore, did not readily go out
above, but circulated in the globe, lodged on its inside, and soon
obstructed the light they were intended to afford; giving, besides, the
daily trouble of wiping them clean: and an accidental stroke on one of
them would demolish it, and render it totally useless. I therefore
suggested the composing them of four flat panes, with a long funnel
above to draw up the smoke, and crevices admitting air below to
facilitate the ascent of the smoke; by this means they were kept clean,
and did not grow dark in a few hours, as the London lamps do, but
continued bright till morning; and an accidental stroke would generally
break but a single pane, easily repaired. I have sometimes wondered that
the Londoners did not, from the effect holes in the bottom of the
globe-lamps used at Vauxhall have in keeping them clean, learn to have
such holes in their street-lamps. But these holes being made for another
purpose, viz., to communicate flame more suddenly to the wick by a
little flax hanging down through them, the other use of letting in air
seems not to have been thought of: and, therefore, after the lamps have
been lit a few hours, the streets of London are very poorly illuminated.

The mention of these improvements puts me in mind of one I proposed,
when in London, to Dr. Fothergill,[11] who was among the best men I have
known, and a great promoter of useful projects. I had observed that the
streets, when dry, were never swept, and the light dust carried away;
but it was suffered to accumulate till wet weather reduced it to mud;
and then, after lying some days so deep on the pavement that there was
no crossing but in paths kept clean by poor people with brooms, it was
with great labour raked together and thrown up into carts open above,
the sides of which suffered some of the slush at every jolt on the
pavement to shake out and fall; sometimes to the annoyance of
foot-passengers. The reason given for not sweeping the dusty streets
was, that the dust would fly into the windows of shops and houses. An
accidental occurrence had instructed me how much sweeping might be done
in a little time; I found at my door in Craven-street one morning a poor
woman sweeping my pavement with a birch broom; she appeared very pale
and feeble, as just come out of a fit of sickness. I asked who employed
her to sweep there; she said, "Nobody; but I am poor and in distress,
and I sweep before gentlefolkses doors, and hopes they will give me
something." I bid her sweep the whole street clean, and I would give her
a shilling; this was at nine o'clock; at noon she came for the shilling.
From the slowness I saw at first in her working, I could scarcely
believe that the work was done so soon, and sent my servant to examine
it, who reported that the whole street was swept perfectly clean, and
all the dust placed in the gutter which was in the middle; and the next
rain washed it quite away, so that the pavement and even the kennel were
perfectly clean. I then judged that if that feeble woman could sweep
such a street in three hours, a strong, active man might have done it in
half the time. And here let me remark the convenience of having but one
gutter in such a narrow street, running down its middle, instead of two,
one on each side, near the footway. For where all the rain that falls on
a street runs from the sides and meets in the middle, it forms there a
current strong enough to wash away all the mud it meets with: but when
divided into two channels, it is often too weak to cleanse either, and
only makes the mud it finds more fluid, so that the wheels of carriages
and feet of horses throw and dash it upon the foot pavement (which is
thereby rendered foul and slippery), and sometimes splash it upon those
who are walking.

Some may think these trifling matters, not worth minding or relating;
but when they consider that though dust blown into the eyes of a single
person or into a single shop in a windy day is but of small importance,
yet the great number of the instances in a populous city, and its
frequent repetition, gives it weight and consequence, perhaps they will
not censure very severely those who bestow some attention to affairs of
this seemingly low nature. Human felicity is produced, not so much by
great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen, as by little advantages
that occur every day. Thus, if you teach a poor young man to shave
himself and keep his razor in order, you may contribute more to the
happiness of his life than in giving him a thousand guineas. This sum
may be soon spent, the regret only remaining of having foolishly
consumed it: but, in the other case, he escapes the frequent vexation of
waiting for barbers, and of their sometimes dirty fingers, offensive
breaths, and dull razors: he shaves when most convenient to him, and
enjoys daily the pleasure of its being done with a good instrument. With
these sentiments I have hazarded the few preceding pages, hoping they
may afford hints which some time or other may be useful to a city I love
(having lived many years in it very happily), and perhaps to some of our
towns in America.

Having been some time employed by the postmaster-general of America as
his comptroller in regulating the several offices and bringing the
officers to account, I was, upon his death in 1753, appointed jointly
with Mr. William Hu---- to succeed him, by a commission from the
postmaster-general in England. The American office had hitherto never
paid anything to that of Britain; we were to have £600 a year between
us, if we could make that sum out of the profits of the office. To do
this, a variety of improvements were necessary; some of these were
inevitably at first expensive; so that, in the first four years, the
office became above £900 in debt to us. But it soon after began to repay
us; and, before I was displaced by a freak of the ministers (of which I
shall speak hereafter), we had brought it to yield _three times_ as much
clear revenue to the crown as the postoffice of Ireland. Since that
imprudent transaction, they have received from it--not one farthing!

The business of the postoffice occasioned my taking a journey this year
to New-England, where the college of Cambridge, of their own motion,
presented me with the degree of Master of Arts. Yale College, in
Connecticut, had before made me a similar compliment. Thus, without
studying in any college, I am to partake of their honours. They were
conferred in consideration of my improvements and discoveries in the
electric branch of Natural Philosophy.

In 1754, war with France being again apprehended, a congress of
commissioners from the different colonies was, by an order of the lords
of trade, to be assembled at Albany, there to confer with the chiefs of
the Six Nations concerning the means of defending both their country and
ours. Governor Hamilton having received this order, acquainted the house
with it, requesting they would furnish proper presents for the Indians,
to be given on this occasion; and naming the speaker (Mr. Norris) and
myself, to join Mr. John Penn and Mr. Secretary Peters, as commissioners
to act for Pennsylvania. The house approved the nomination, and provided
the goods for the presents, though they did not much like treating out
of the province; and we met the other commissioners at Albany about the
middle of June. In our way thither I projected and drew up a plan for
the union of all the colonies under one government, so far as might be
necessary for defence and other important general purposes. As we passed
through New-York, I had there shown my project to Mr. James Alexander
and Mr. Kennedy, two gentlemen of great knowledge in public affairs, and
being fortified by their approbation, I ventured to lay it before the
Congress. It then appeared that several of the commissioners had formed
plans of the same kind. A previous question was first taken, whether a
union should be established, which passed in the affirmative
unanimously. A committee was then appointed, one member from each
colony, to consider the several plans and report. Mine happened to be
preferred, and, with a few amendments, was accordingly reported. By this
plan the general government was to be administered by a
president-general, appointed and supported by the crown; and a grand
council, to be chosen by the representatives of the people of the
several colonies, met in their respective assemblies. The debates upon
it in Congress went on daily, hand in hand with the Indian business.
Many objections and difficulties were started, but at length they were
all overcome, and the plan was unanimously agreed to, and copies ordered
to be transmitted to the board of trade and to the assemblies of the
several provinces. Its fate was singular: the assemblies did not adopt
it, as they all thought there was too much _prerogative_ in it, and in
England it was judged to have too much of the _democratic_; the board of
trade did not approve of it, nor recommend it for the approbation of his
majesty: but another scheme was formed, supposed to answer the same
purpose better, whereby the governors of the provinces, with some
members of their respective councils, were to meet and order the raising
of troops, building of forts, &c., and to draw on the treasury of Great
Britain for the expense, which was afterward to be refunded by an act of
Parliament laying a tax on America. My plan, with my reasons in support
of it, is to be found among my political papers that were printed. Being
the winter following in Boston, I had much conversation with Governor
Shirley upon both the plans. Part of what passed between us on this
occasion may also be seen among those papers. The different and contrary
reasons of dislike to my plan makes me suspect that it was really the
true medium, and I am still of opinion it would have been happy for both
sides if it had been adopted. The colonies, so united, would have been
sufficiently strong to defend themselves: there would then have been no
need of troops from England, of course the subsequent pretext for taxing
America; and the bloody contest it occasioned would have been avoided:
but such mistakes are not new: history is full of the errors of states
and princes.

"Look, round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue!"

Those who govern, having much business on their hands, do not generally
like to take the trouble of considering and carrying into execution new
projects. The best public measures are, therefore, seldom _adopted from
previous wisdom, but forced by the occasion_.

The governor of Pennsylvania, in sending it down to the Assembly,
expressed his approbation of the plan "as appearing to him to be drawn
up with great clearness and strength of judgment, and therefore
recommended it as well worthy their closest and most serious attention."
The house, however, by the management of a certain member, took it up
when I happened to be absent (which I thought not very fair), and
reprobated it without paying any attention to it at all, to my no small
mortification.

In my journey to Boston this year, I met at New-York with our new
governor, Mr. Morris, just arrived there from England, with whom I had
been before intimately acquainted. He brought a commission to supersede
Mr. Hamilton, who, tired with the disputes his proprietary instructions
subjected him to, had resigned. Mr. Morris asked me if I thought he must
expect as uncomfortable an administration. I said "No; you may, on the
contrary, have a very comfortable one, if you will only take care not to
enter into any dispute with the Assembly." "My dear friend," said he,
pleasantly, "how can you advise my avoiding disputes? You know I love
disputing; it is one of my greatest pleasures; however, to show the
regard I have for your counsel, I promise you I will, if possible, avoid
them." He had some reason for loving to dispute, being eloquent, an
acute sophister, and, therefore, generally successful in argumentative
conversation. He had been brought up to it from a boy, his father, as I
have heard, accustoming his children to dispute with one another for his
diversion, while sitting at table after dinner; but I think the practice
was not wise; for, in the course of my observation, those disputing,
contradicting, and confuting people are generally unfortunate in their
affairs. They get victory sometimes, but they never get good-will, which
would be of more use to them. We parted, he going to Philadelphia and I
to Boston. In returning, I met at New-York with the votes of the
Assembly of Pennsylvania, by which it appeared that, notwithstanding his
promise to me, he and the house were already in high contention; and it
was a continual battle between them as long as he retained the
government. I had my share of it; for, as soon as I got back to my seat
in the Assembly, I was put on every committee for answering his speeches
and messages, and by the committees always desired to make the draughts.
Our answers, as well as his messages, were often tart, and sometimes
indecently abusive; and as he knew I wrote for the Assembly, one might
have imagined that, when we met, we could hardly avoid cutting throats.
But he was so good-natured a man, that no personal difference between
him and me was occasioned by the contest, and we often dined together.
One afternoon, in the height of this public quarrel, we met in the
street; "Franklin," said he, "you must go home with me and spend the
evening; I am to have some company that you will like;" and, taking me
by the arm, led me to his house. In gay conversation after supper, he
told us jokingly that he much admired the idea of Sancho Panza, who,
when it was proposed to give him a government, requested it might be a
government of blacks; as then, if he could not agree with his people, he
might sell them. One of his friends, who sat next to me, said,
"Franklin, why do you continue to side with those Quakers? had you not
better sell them? the proprietor would give you a good price." "The
governor," said I, "has not yet _blacked_ them enough." He, indeed, had
laboured hard to blacken the Assembly in all his messages, but they
wiped off his colouring as fast as he laid it on, and placed it in
return thick upon his own face; so that, finding he was likely to be
_negrofied_ himself, he, as well as Mr. Hamilton, grew tired of the
contest and quitted the government.

These public quarrels were all at bottom owing to the proprietaries our
hereditary governors; who, when any expense was to be incurred for the
defence of their province, with incredible meanness, instructed their
deputies to pass no act for levying the necessary taxes, unless their
vast estates were in the same act expressly exonerated; and they had
even taken the bonds of these deputies to observe such instructions. The
assemblies for three years held out against this injustice, though
constrained to bend at last. At length Captain Denny, who was governor
Morris's successor, ventured to disobey those instructions; how that
was brought about I shall show hereafter.

But I am got forward too fast with my story: there are still some
transactions to be mentioned that happened during the administration of
Governor Morris.

War being in a manner commenced with France, the government of
Massachusetts Bay projected an attack upon Crown Point, and sent Mr.
Quincy to Pennsylvania, and Mr. Pownal (afterward Governor Pownal) to
New-York, to solicit assistance. As I was in the Assembly, knew its
temper, and was Mr. Quincy's countryman, he applied to me for my
influence and assistance: I dictated his address to them, which was well
received. They voted an aid of ten thousand pounds, to be laid out in
provisions. But the governor refusing his assent to their bill (which
included this with other sums granted for the use of the crown) unless a
clause were inserted exempting the proprietary estate from bearing any
part of the tax that would be necessary, the Assembly, though very
desirous of making their grant to New-England, were at a loss how to
accomplish it. Mr. Quincy laboured hard with the governor to obtain his
assent, but he was obstinate. I then suggested a method of doing the
business without the governor, by orders on the trustees of the
loan-office, which, by law, the Assembly had the right of drawing. There
was, indeed, little or no money at the time in the office, and therefore
I proposed that the orders should be payable in a year, and to bear an
interest of five per cent.: with these orders I supposed the provisions
might easily be purchased. The Assembly, with very little hesitation,
adopted the proposal; the orders were immediately printed, and I was one
of the committee directed to sign and dispose of them. The fund for
paying them was the interest of all the paper currency then extant in
the province upon loan, together with the revenue arising from the
excise, which, being known to be more than sufficient, they obtained
credit, and were not only taken in payment for the provisions, but many
moneyed people who had cash lying by them vested it in those orders,
which they found advantageous, as they bore interest while upon hand,
and might on any occasion be used as money; so that they were eagerly
all bought up, and in a few weeks none of them were to be seen. Thus
this important affair was by my means completed. Mr. Quincy returned
thanks to the Assembly in a handsome memorial, went home highly pleased
with the success of his embassy, and ever after bore for me the most
cordial and affectionate friendship.

The British government, not choosing to permit the union of the colonies
as proposed at Albany, and to trust that union with their defence, lest
they should thereby grow too military and feel their own strength
(suspicion and jealousies at this time being entertained of them), sent
over General Braddock with two regiments of regular English troops for
that purpose. He landed at Alexandria, in Virginia, and thence marched
to Fredericktown, in Maryland, where he halted for carriages. Our
Assembly, apprehending from some information that he had received
violent prejudices against them as averse to the service, wished me to
wait upon him, not as from them, but as postmaster-general, under the
guise of proposing to settle with him the mode of conducting, with the
greatest celerity and certainty, the despatches between him and the
governors of the several provinces, with whom he must necessarily have
continual correspondence, and of which they proposed to pay the expense.
My son accompanied me on this journey. We found the general at
Fredericktown, waiting impatiently for the return of those whom we had
sent through the back parts of Maryland and Virginia to collect wagons.
I stayed with him several days, dined with him daily, and had full
opportunities of removing his prejudices, by the information of what the
Assembly had, before his arrival, actually done, and were still willing
to do, to facilitate his operations. When I was about to depart, the
returns of wagons to be obtained were brought in, by which it appeared
that they amounted only to twenty-five, and not all of those were in
serviceable condition. The general and the officers were surprised;
declared the expedition was then at an end, being impossible; and
exclaimed against the ministers for ignorantly sending them into a
country destitute of the means of conveying their stores, baggage, &c.,
not less than one hundred and fifty wagons being necessary. I happened
to say, I thought it was a pity they had not been landed in
Pennsylvania, as in that country almost every farmer had his wagon. The
general eagerly laid hold of my words, and said, "Then you, sir, who are
a man of interest there, can probably procure them for us, and I beg you
will undertake it." I asked what terms were to be offered the owners of
the wagons; and I was desired to put on paper the terms that appeared to
me necessary. This I did, and they were agreed to; and a commission and
instructions accordingly prepared immediately. What those terms were
will appear in the advertisement I published soon as I arrived at
Lancaster; which being, from the great and sudden effect it produced, a
piece of some curiosity, I shall insert it at length, as follows:

"ADVERTISEMENT.

"Lancaster, April 26th, 1753.

"Whereas, one hundred and fifty wagons, with four horses to each
wagon, and fifteen hundred saddle or packhorses, are wanted for the
service of his majesty's forces, now about to rendezvous at Will's
Creek; and his excellency General Braddock, having been pleased to
empower me to contract for the hire of the same, I hereby give
notice, that I shall attend for that purpose at Lancaster from this
day to next Wednesday evening, and at York from next Thursday
morning till Friday evening, where I shall be ready to agree for
wagons and teams, or single horses, on the following terms, viz.:
1. That there shall be paid for each wagon, with four good horses
and a driver, fifteen shillings per diem. And for each able horse,
with a packsaddle or other saddle and furniture, two shillings per
diem. And for each able horse without a saddle, eighteen pence per
diem. 2. That the pay commence from the time of their joining the
forces at Will's Creek (which must be on or before the 20th of May
ensuing), and that a reasonable allowance be paid over and above
for the time necessary for their travelling to Will's Creek and
home again after their discharge. 3. Each wagon and team, and every
saddle or packhorse, is to be valued by indifferent persons, chosen
between me and the owner; and in case of the loss of any wagon,
team, or other horse in the service, the price, according to such
valuation, is to be allowed and paid. 4. Seven days' pay is to be
advanced and paid in hand by me to the owner of each wagon and
team, or horse, at the time of contracting, if required; and the
remainder to be paid by General Braddock, or by the paymaster of
the army, at the time of their discharge; or from time to time, as
it shall be demanded. 5. No drivers of wagons or persons taking
care of the hired horses are, on any account, to be called upon to
do the duty of soldiers, or be otherwise employed than in
conducting or taking care of their carriages or horses. 6. All
oats, Indian corn, or other forage that wagons or horses bring to
the camp, more than is necessary for the subsistence of the horses,
is to be taken for the use of the army, and a reasonable price paid
for the same.

"_Note._--My son, William Franklin, is empowered to enter into like
contracts with any person in Cumberland county.

"B. FRANKLIN."

I received of the general about eight hundred pounds, to be disbursed in
advance-money to the wagon owners, &c.; but that sum being insufficient,
I advanced upward of two hundred pounds more; and in two weeks, the one
hundred and fifty wagons, with two hundred and fifty-nine carrying
horses, were on their march for the camp. The advertisement promised
payment according to the valuation, in case any wagons or horses should
be lost. The owners, however, alleging they did not know General
Braddock, or what dependance might be had on his promise, insisted on my
bond for the performance, which I accordingly gave them.

While I was at the camp, supping one evening with the officers of
Colonel Dunbar's regiment, he represented to me his concern for the
subalterns, who, he said, were generally not in affluence, and could ill
afford, in this dear country, to lay in the stores that might be
necessary in so long a march through a wilderness where nothing was to
be purchased. I commiserated their case, and resolved to endeavour
procuring them some relief. I said nothing, however, to him of my
intention, but wrote the next morning to the committee of Assembly, who
had the disposition of some public money, warmly recommending the case
of these officers to their consideration, and proposing that a present
should be sent them of necessaries and refreshments. My son, who had
some experience of a camp life and of its wants, drew up a list for me,
which I enclosed in my letter. The committee approved, and used such
diligence that, conducted by my son, the stores arrived at the camp as
soon as the wagons. They consisted of twenty parcels, each containing

6 lbs. Loaf Sugar,
6 do. Muscovado do.,
1 do. Green Tea,
1 do. Bohea do.,
6 do. Ground Coffee,
6 do. Chocolate,
1-2 chest best white Biscuit,
1-2 lb. Pepper,
1 quart white Vinegar,
1 Gloucester Cheese,
1 keg containing 20 lbs. good Butter,
2 doz. old Madeira Wine,
2 gallons Jamaica Spirits,
1 bottle Flour of Mustard,
2 well-cured Hams,
1-2 dozen dried Tongues,
6 lbs. Rice,
6 do. Raisins.

These parcels, well packed, were placed on as many horses, each parcel,
with the horse, being intended as a present for one officer. They were
very thankfully received, and the kindness acknowledged by letters to me
from the colonels of both regiments, in the most grateful terms. The
general, too, was highly satisfied with my conduct in procuring him the
wagons, &c., &c., and readily paid my account of disbursements; thanking
me repeatedly, and requesting my farther assistance in sending
provisions after him. I undertook this also, and was busily employed in
it till we heard of his defeat; advancing for the service, of my own
money, upward of one thousand pounds sterling, of which I sent him an
account. It came to his hands, luckily for me, a few days before the
battle, and he returned me immediately an order on the paymaster for the
round sum of one thousand pounds, leaving the remainder to the next
account. I consider this payment as good luck, having never been able
to obtain that remainder, of which more hereafter.

This general was, I think, a brave man, and might probably have made a
figure as a good officer in some European war; but he had too much
self-confidence, too high an opinion of the validity of regular troops,
and too mean a one of both Americans and Indians. George Croghan, our
Indian interpreter, joined him on his march with one hundred of those
people, who might have been of great use to his army as guides, scouts,
&c., if he had treated them kindly; but he slighted and neglected them,
and they gradually left him. In conversation with him one day, he was
giving me some account of his intended progress. "After taking Fort
Duquesne," said he, "I am to proceed to Niagara; and having taken that,
to Frontenac, if the season will allow time, and I suppose it will; for
Duquesne can hardly detain me above three or four days; and then I see
nothing that can obstruct my march to Niagara." Having before revolved
in my mind the long line his army must make in their march by a very
narrow road, to be cut for them through the woods and bushes; and also
what I had read of a former defeat of fifteen hundred French who invaded
the Illinois country, I had conceived some doubts and some fears for the
event of the campaign. But I ventured only to say, "To be sure, sir, if
you arrive well before Duquesne, with the fine troops so well provided
with artillery, the fort, though completely fortified, and assisted with
a very strong garrison, can probably make but a short resistance. The
only danger I apprehend of obstruction to your march is from the
ambuscades of the Indians, who, by constant practice, are dexterous in
laying and executing them: and the slender line, near four miles long,
which your army must make, may expose it to be attacked by surprise in
its flanks, and to be cut like a thread into several pieces, which,
from their distance, cannot come up in time to support each other." He
smiled at my ignorance, and replied, "These savages may indeed be a
formidable enemy to your raw American militia; but upon the king's
regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they should make
any impression." I was conscious of an impropriety in my disputing with
a military man in matters of his profession, and said no more. The
enemy, however, did not take the advantage of his army which I apprehend
its long line of march exposed it to, but let it advance without
interruption till within nine miles of the place; and then, when more in
a body (for it had just passed a river, where the front had halted till
all were come over), and in a more open part of the woods than any it
had passed, attacked its advanced guard by a heavy fire from behind
trees and bushes; which was the first intelligence the general had of an
enemy's being near him. This guard being disordered, the general hurried
the troops up to their assistance, which was done in great confusion,
through wagons, baggage, and cattle; and presently the fire came upon
their flank: the officers, being on horseback, were more easily
distinguished, picked out as marks, and fell very fast; and the soldiers
were crowded together in a huddle, having or hearing no orders, and
standing to be shot at till two thirds of them were killed; and then,
being seized with a panic, the remainder fled with precipitation. The
wagoners took each a horse out of his team and scampered; their example
was immediately followed by others; so that all the wagons, provisions,
artillery, and stores were left to the enemy. The general, being
wounded, was brought off with difficulty; his secretary, Mr. Shirley,
was killed by his side; and out of eighty-six officers, sixty-three were
killed or wounded, and seven hundred and fourteen men killed out of
eleven hundred. These eleven hundred had been picked men from the whole
army; the rest had been left behind with Colonel Dunbar, who was to
follow with the heavier part of the stores, provisions, and baggage. The
fliers, not being pursued, arrived at Dunbar's camp, and the panic they
brought with them instantly seized him and all his people. And though he
had now above one thousand men, and the enemy who had beaten Braddock
did not at most exceed four hundred Indians and French together, instead
of proceeding and endeavouring to recover some of the lost honour, he
ordered all the stores, ammunition, &c., to be destroyed, that he might
have more horses to assist his flight towards the settlements, and less
lumber to remove. He was there met with requests from the Governor of
Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, that he would post his troops on
the frontiers, so as to afford some protection to the inhabitants; but
he continued his hasty march through all the country, not thinking
himself safe till he arrived at Philadelphia, where the inhabitants
could protect him. This whole transaction gave us Americans the first
suspicion that our exalted ideas of the prowess of British regular
troops had not been well founded.

In their first march, too, from their landing till they got beyond the
settlements, they had plundered and stripped the inhabitants, totally
ruining some poor families, besides insulting, abusing, and confining
the people if they remonstrated. This was enough to put us out of
conceit of such defenders, if we had really wanted any. How different
was the conduct of our French friends in 1781, who, during a march
through the most inhabited part of our country, from Rhode Island to
Virginia, near seven hundred miles, occasioned not the smallest
complaint for the loss of a pig, a chicken, or even an apple!

Captain Orme, who was one of the general's aidsdecamp, and being
grievously wounded, was brought off with him, and continued with him to
his death, which happened in a few days, told me he was totally silent
all the first day, and at night only said, "_Who would have thought
it?_" That he was silent again the following day, saying only at last,
"_We shall better know how to deal with them another time_;" and died in
a few minutes after.

The secretary's papers, with all the general's orders, instructions, and
correspondence, falling into the enemy's hands, they selected and
translated into French a number of the articles, which they printed, to
prove the hostile intentions of the British court before the declaration
of war. Among these I saw some letters of the general to the ministry,
speaking highly of the great service I had rendered the army, and
recommending me to their notice. David Hume, who was some years after
secretary to Lord Hertford when minister in France, and afterward to
General Conway when secretary of state, told me he had seen among the
papers in that office letters from Braddock highly recommending me. But
the expedition having been unfortunate, my service, it seems, was not
thought of much value, for those recommendations were never of any use
to me. As to rewards from himself, I asked only one, which was, that he
would give orders to his officers not to enlist any more of our bought
servants, and that he would discharge such as had been already enlisted.
This he readily granted, and several were accordingly returned to their
masters on my application. Dunbar, when the command devolved on him, was
not so generous. He being at Philadelphia on his retreat, or, rather,
flight, I applied to him for the discharge of the servants of three poor
farmers of Lancaster county that he had enlisted, reminding him of the
late general's orders on that head. He promised me that, if the masters
would come to him at Trenton, where he should be in a few days on his
march to New-York, he would there deliver their men to them. They
accordingly were at the expense and trouble of going to Trenton, and
there he refused to perform his promise, to their great loss and
disappointment.

As soon as the loss of the wagons and horses was generally known, all
the owners came upon me for the valuation which I had given bond to pay.
Their demands gave me a great deal of trouble: I acquainted them that
the money was ready in the paymaster's hands, but the order for paying
it must first be obtained from General Shirley, and that I had applied
for it; but he being at a distance, an answer could not soon be
received, and they must have patience. All this, however, was not
sufficient to satisfy, and some began to sue me: General Shirley at
length relieved me from this terrible situation, by appointing
commissioners to examine the claims, and ordering payment. They amounted
to near twenty thousand pounds, which to pay would have ruined me.

Before we had the news of this defeat, the two Doctors Bond came to me
with a subscription-paper for raising money to defray the expense of a
grand fireworks, which it was intended to exhibit at a rejoicing on
receiving the news of our taking Fort Duquesne. I looked grave, and
said, "It would, I thought, be time enough to prepare the rejoicing when
we knew we should have occasion to rejoice." They seemed surprised that
I did not immediately comply with their proposal. "Why the d--l," said
one of them, "you surely don't suppose that the fort will not be taken?"
"I don't know that it will not be taken; but I know that the events of
war are subject to great uncertainty." I gave them the reasons of my
doubting: the subscription was dropped, and the projectors thereby
missed the mortification they would have undergone if the fireworks had
been prepared. Dr. Bond, on some other occasion afterward, said that he
did not like Franklin's forebodings.

Governor Morris, who had continually worried the Assembly with message
after message, before the defeat of Braddock, to beat them into the
making of acts to raise money for the defence of the province, without
taxing, among others, the proprietary estates, and had rejected all
their bills for not having such an exempting clause, now redoubled his
attacks with more hope of success, the danger and necessity being
greater. The Assembly, however, continued firm, believing they had
justice on their side, and that it would be giving up an essential right
if they suffered the governor to amend their money-bills. In one of the
last, indeed, which was for granting fifty thousand pounds, his proposed
amendment was only of a single word: the bill expressed "that all
estates, real and personal, were to be taxed; those of the proprietaries
_not_ excepted." His amendment was, for _not_ read _only_. A small but
very material alteration! However, when the news of the disaster reached
England, our friends there, whom we had taken care to furnish will all
the Assembly's answers to the governor's messages, raised a clamour
against the proprietaries for their meanness and injustice in giving
their governor such instructions; some going so far as to say that, by
obstructing the defence of their province, they forfeited their right to
it. They were intimidated by this, sent orders to their receiver-general
to add five thousand pounds of their money to whatever sum might be
given by the Assembly for such purpose. This being testified to the
house, was accepted in lieu of their share of a general tax, and a new
bill was formed, with an exempting clause, which passed accordingly. By
this act I was appointed one of the commissioners for disposing of the
money, sixty thousand pounds. I had been active in modelling the bill
and procuring its passage, and had, at the same time, drawn one for
establishing and disciplining a voluntary militia, which I carried
through the house without much difficulty, as care was taken in it to
leave the Quakers at liberty. To promote the association necessary to
form the militia, I wrote a dialogue stating and answering all the
objections I could think of to such a militia, which was printed, and
had, as I thought great effect. While the several companies in the city
and country were forming and learning their exercise, the governor
prevailed with me to take charge of our northwestern frontier, which was
infested by the enemy, and provide for the defence of the inhabitants by
raising troops and building a line of forts. I undertook this military
business, though I did not conceive myself well qualified for it. He
gave me a commission, with full powers, and a parcel of blank
commissions for officers, to be given to whom I thought fit. I had but
little difficulty in raising men, having soon five hundred and sixty
under my command. My son, who had in the preceding war been an officer
in the army raised against Canada, was my aiddecamp, and of great use to
me. The Indians had burned Gnadenhutten, a village settled by the
Moravians, and massacred the inhabitants; but the place was thought a
good situation for one of the forts. In order to march thither, I
assembled the companies at Bethlehem, the chief establishment of those
people; I was surprised to find it in so good a posture of defence; the
destruction of Gnadenhutten had made them apprehend danger. The
principal buildings were defended by a stockade; they had purchased a
quantity of arms and ammunition from New-York, and had even placed
quantities of small paving stones between the windows of their high
stone houses, for their women to throw them down upon the heads of any
Indians that should attempt to force into them. The armed brethren, too,
kept watch, and relieved each other on guard as methodically as in any
garrison town. In conversation with the bishop, Spangenberg, I
mentioned my surprise; for, knowing that they had obtained an act of
parliament exempting them from military duties in the colonies, I had
supposed they were conscientiously scrupulous of bearing arms. He
answered me, "That it was not one of their established principles; but
that, at the time of their obtaining that act, it was thought to be a
principle with many of their people. On this occasion, however, they, to
their surprise, found it adopted by but a few." It seems they were
either deceived in themselves or deceived the parliament; but common
sense, aided by present danger, will sometimes be too strong for
whimsical opinions.

It was the beginning of January when we set out upon this business of
building forts; I sent one detachment towards the Minisink, with
instructions to erect one for the security of that upper part of the
country, and another to the lower part with similar instructions; and I
concluded to go myself with the rest of my force to Gnadenhutten, where
a fort was thought more immediately necessary. The Moravians procured me
five wagons for our tools, stores, baggage, &c. Just before we left
Bethlehem, eleven farmers, who had been driven from their plantations by
the Indians, came to me requesting a supply of firearms, that they might
go back and bring off their cattle. I gave them each a gun with suitable
ammunition. We had not marched many miles before it began to rain, and
it continued raining all day; there were no habitations on the road to
shelter us till we arrived near night at the house of a German, where,
and in his barn, we were all huddled together as wet as water could make
us. It was well we were not attacked in our march, for our arms were of
the most ordinary sort, and our men could not keep the locks of their
guns dry. The Indians are dexterous in contrivances for that purpose,
which we had not. They met that day the eleven poor farmers above
mentioned, and killed ten of them; the one that escaped informed us that
his and his companions' guns would not go off, the priming being wet
with the rain. The next day, being fair, we continued our march, and
arrived at the desolate Gnadenhutten; there was a mill near, round which
were left several pine boards, with which we soon hutted ourselves; an
operation the more necessary at that inclement season, as we had no
tents. Our first work was to bury more effectually the dead we found
there, who had been half interred by the country people; the next
morning our fort was planned and marked out, the circumference measuring
four hundred and fifty-five feet, which would require as many palisades
to be made, one with another, of a foot diameter each. Our axes, of
which we had seventy, were immediately set to work to cut down trees;
and our men being dexterous in the use of them, great despatch was made.
Seeing the trees fall so fast, I had the curiosity to look at my watch
when two men began to cut a pine; in six minutes they had it upon the
ground, and I found it of fourteen inches diameter: each pine made three
palisades of eighteen feet long, pointed at one end. While these were
preparing our other men dug a trench all round of three feet deep, in
which the palisades were to be planted; and the bodies being taken off
our wagons, and the fore and hind wheels separated by taking out the pin
which united the two parts of the perch, we had ten carriages, with two
horses each, to bring the palisades from the woods to the spot. When
they were set up, our carpenters built a platform of boards all round
within, about six feet high, for the men to stand on when to fire
through the loopholes. We had one swivel gun, which we mounted on one of
the angles, and fired it as soon as fixed, to let the Indians know, if
any were within hearing, that we had such pieces; and thus our fort (if
that name may be given to so miserable a stockade) was finished in a
week, though it rained so hard every other day that the men could not
well work.

This gave me occasion to observe, that when men are employed they are
best contented, for on the days they worked they were good-natured and
cheerful, and with the consciousness of having done a good day's work
they spent the evening jollily; but on our idle days they were mutinous
and quarrelsome, finding fault with the pork, the bread, &c., and we
were continually in bad humour, which put me in mind of a sea-captain,
whose rule it was to keep his men constantly at work; and when his mate
once told him that they had done everything, and there was nothing
farther to employ them about, "_Oh_," said he, "_make them scour the
anchor_."

This kind of fort, however contemptible, is a sufficient defence against
Indians who had no cannon. Finding ourselves now posted securely, and
having a place to retreat to on occasion, we ventured out in parties to
scour the adjacent country. We met with no Indians, but we found the
places on the neighbouring hills where they had lain to watch our
proceedings. There was an art in their contrivance of those places that
seems worth mentioning. It being winter, a fire was necessary for them;
but a common fire on the surface of the ground would, by its light, have
discovered their position at a distance; they had therefore dug holes in
the ground, about three feet in diameter and somewhat deeper; we found
where they had, with their hatchets, cut off the charcoal from the sides
of burnt logs lying in the woods. With these coals they had made small
fires in the bottom of the holes, and we observed among the weeds and
grass the prints of their bodies, made by their lying all round with
their legs hanging down in the holes to keep their feet warm, which with
them is an essential point. This kind of fire, so managed, could not
discover them either by its light, flame, sparks, or even smoke; it
appeared that the number was not great, and it seems they saw we were
too many to be attacked by them with prospect of advantage.

I had hardly got my fort well stored with provisions when I received a
letter from the governor acquainting me that he had called the Assembly,
and wished my attendance there, if the posture of affairs on the
frontiers was such that my remaining there was no longer necessary. My
friends, too, of the Assembly, pressing me by their letters to be, if
possible, at the meeting; and my three intended forts being now
completed, and the inhabitants contented to remain on their farms under
that protection, I resolved to return, the more willingly, as a
New-England officer, Colonel Clapham, experienced in Indian war, being
on a visit to our establishment, consented to accept the command. I gave
him a commission, and, parading the garrison, had it read before them,
and introduced him to them as an officer who, from his skill in military
affairs, was much more fit to command them than myself, and, giving them
a little exhortation, took my leave. I was escorted as far as Bethlehem,
where I rested a few days to recover from the fatigue I had undergone.
The first night, lying in a good bed, I could hardly sleep, it was so
different from my hard lodging on the floor of a hut at Gnadenhutten,
with only a blanket or two. While at Bethlehem I inquired a little into
the practices of the Moravians; some of them had accompanied me, and all
were very kind to me. I found they worked for a common stock, ate at
common tables, and slept in common dormitories, great numbers together.
In the dormitories I observed loopholes at certain distances all along
just under the ceiling, which I thought judiciously placed for change of
air. I went to their church, where I was entertained with good music,
the organ being accompanied with violins, haut-boys, flutes, clarinets,
&c. I understood their sermons were not usually preached to mixed
congregations of men, women, and children, as is our common practice,
but that they assembled sometimes the married men, at other times their
wives, then the young men, the young women, and the little children,
each division by itself. The sermon I heard was to the latter, who came
in and were placed in rows on benches, the boys under the conduct of a
young man, their tutor, and the girls conducted by a young woman. The
discourse seemed well adapted to their capacities, and was delivered in
a pleasing, familiar manner, coaxing them, as it were, to be good. They
behaved very orderly, but looked pale and unhealthy, which made me
suspect they were kept too much within doors, or not allowed sufficient
exercise. I inquired concerning the Moravian marriages, whether the
report was true that they were by lot; I was told that lots were used
only in particular cases: that generally, when a young man found himself
disposed to marry, he informed the elders of his class, who consulted
the elder ladies that governed the young women. As these elders of the
different sexes were well acquainted with the tempers and dispositions
of their respective pupils, they could best judge what matches were
suitable, and their judgments were generally acquiesced in. But if, for
example, it should happen that two or three young women were found to be
equally proper for the young man, the lot was then recurred to. I
objected, if the matches are not made by the mutual choice of the
parties, some of them may chance to be very unhappy. "And so they may,"
answered my informer, "if you let the parties choose for themselves:"
which, indeed, I could not deny.

Being returned to Philadelphia, I found the association went on with
great success, the inhabitants that were not Quakers having pretty
generally come into it, formed themselves into companies, and chose
their captains, lieutenants, and ensigns, according to the new law. Dr.
Bond visited me, and gave me an account of the pains he had taken to
spread a general good-liking to the law, and ascribed much to those
endeavours. I had the vanity to ascribe all to my dialogue; however, not
knowing but that he might be in the right, I let him enjoy his opinion,
which I take to be generally the best way in such cases. The officers
meeting, chose me to be colonel of the regiment, which I this time
accepted. I forget how many companies we had, but we paraded about
twelve hundred well-looking men, with a company of artillery, who had
been furnished with six brass field-pieces, which they had become so
expert in the use of as to fire twelve times in a minute. The first time
I reviewed my regiment, they accompanied me to my house, and would
salute me with some rounds fired before my door, which shook down and
broke several glasses of my electrical apparatus. And my new honour
proved not much less brittle; for all our commissions were soon after
broken by a repeal of the law in England.

During this short time of my colonelship, being about to set out on a
journey to Virginia, the officers of my regiment took it into their
heads that it would be proper for them to escort me out of town as far
as the lower ferry; just as I was getting on horseback they came to my
door, between thirty and forty, mounted, and all in their uniforms. I
had not been previously acquainted with their project, or I should have
prevented it, being naturally averse to the assuming of state on any
occasion; and I was a good deal chagrined at their appearance, as I
could not avoid their accompanying me. What made it worse was, that, as
soon as we began to move, they drew their swords and rode with them
naked all the way. Somebody wrote an account of this to the proprietor,
and it gave him great offence. No such honour had been paid him when in
the province, nor to any of his governors; and he said it was only
proper to princes of the blood royal, which may be true for aught I
know, who was and still am ignorant of the etiquette in such cases. This
silly affair, however, greatly increased his rancour against me, which
was before considerable, on account of my conduct in the Assembly
respecting the exemption of his estate from taxation, which I had always
opposed very warmly, and not without severe reflections on the meanness
and injustice in contending for it. He accused me to the ministry as
being the great obstacle to the king's service, preventing, by my
influence in the house, the proper form of the bills for raising money;
and he instanced the parade with my officers as a proof of my having an
intention to take the government of the province out of his hands by
force. He also applied to Sir Everard Faukener, the postmaster-general,
to deprive me of my office; but it had no other effect than to procure
from Sir Everard a gentle admonition.

Notwithstanding the continual wrangle between the governor and the
house, in which I, as a member, had so large a share, there still
subsisted a civil intercourse between that gentleman and myself, and we
never had any personal difference. I have sometimes since thought, that
his little or no resentment against me, for the answers it was known I
drew up to his messages, might be the effect of professional habit, and
that, being bred a lawyer, he might consider us both as merely advocates
for contending clients in a suit; he for the proprietaries, and I for
the Assembly: he would, therefore, sometimes call in a friendly way to
advise with me on difficult points; and sometimes, though not often,
take my advice. We acted in concert to supply Braddock's army with
provisions; and when the shocking news arrived of his defeat, the
governor sent in haste for me, to consult with him on measures for
preventing the desertion of the back counties. I forget now the advice I
gave, but I think it was that Dunbar should be written to, and prevailed
with, if possible, to post his troops on the frontiers for their
protection, until, by re-enforcements from the colonies, he might be
able to proceed in the expedition: and, after my return from the
frontier, he would have had me undertake the conduct of such an
expedition with provincial troops, for the reduction of Fort Duquesne
(Dunbar and his men being otherwise employed); and he proposed to
commission me as a general. I had not so good an opinion of my military
abilities as he professed to have, and I believe his professions must
have exceeded his real sentiments: but probably he might think that my
popularity would facilitate the business with the men, and influence in
the Assembly the grant of money to pay for it; and that, perhaps,
without taxing the proprietary. Finding me not so forward to engage as
he expected, the project was dropped; and he soon after left the
government, being superseded by Captain Denny.

Before I proceed in relating the part I had in public affairs under this
new governor's administration, it may not be amiss to give here some
account of the rise and progress of my philosophical reputation.

In 1746, being at Boston, I met there with a Dr. Spence, who was lately
arrived from Scotland, and showed me some electric experiments. They
were imperfectly performed, as he was not very expert; but, being on a
subject quite new to me, they equally surprised and pleased me. Soon
after my return to Philadelphia, our library company received from Mr.
Peter Collinson, F.R.S., of London, a present of a glass tube, with some
account of the use of it in making such experiments. I eagerly seized
the opportunity of repeating what I had seen at Boston; and, by much
practice, acquired great readiness in performing those also which we had
an account of from England, adding a number of new ones. I say much
practice, for my house was constantly full for some time with persons
who came to see these new wonders. To divide a little this encumbrance
among my friends, I caused a number of similar tubes to be blown in our
glasshouse, with which they furnished themselves, so that we had at
length several performers. Among these the principal was Mr. Kinnersly,
an ingenious neighbour, who, being out of business, I encouraged to
undertake showing the experiments for money, and drew up for him two
lectures, in which the experiments were ranged in such order, and
accompanied with explanations in such method, as that the foregoing
should assist in comprehending the following. He procured an elegant
apparatus for the purpose, in which all the little machines that I had
roughly made for myself were neatly formed by instrument-makers. His
lectures were well-attended and gave great satisfaction; and, after some
time, he went through the colonies, exhibiting them in every capital
town, and picked up some money. In the West India islands, indeed, it
was with difficulty the experiments could be made, from the general
moisture of the air.

Obliged as we were to Mr. Collinson for the present of the tube, &c., I
thought it right he should be informed of our success in using it, and
wrote him several letters containing accounts of our experiments. He got
them read in the Royal Society, where they were not at first thought
worth so much notice as to be printed in their transactions. One paper
which I wrote for Mr. Kinnersly, on the sameness of lightning with
electricity, I sent to Mr. Mitchel, an acquaintance of mine, and one of
the members also of that society; who wrote me word that it had been
read, but was laughed at by the connoisseurs. The papers, however, being
shown to Dr. Fothergill, he thought them of too much value to be
stifled, and advised the printing of them. Mr. Collinson then gave them
to _Cave_ for publication in his _Gentleman's Magazine_; but he chose to
print them separately in a pamphlet, and Dr. Fothergill wrote the
preface. _Cave_, it seems, judged rightly for his profession; for, by
the additions that arrived afterward, they swelled to a quarto volume;
which has had five editions, and cost him nothing for copy-money.

It was, however, some time before those papers were much taken notice of
in England. A copy of them happening to fall into the hands of the Count
de Buffon (a philosopher deservedly of great reputation in France, and,
indeed, all over Europe), he prevailed with Monsieur Dubourg to
translate them into French; and they were printed at Paris. The
publication offended the Abbé Nollet, preceptor in Natural Philosophy to
the royal family, and an able experimenter, who had formed and published
a theory of electricity, which then had the general vogue. He could not
at first believe that such a work came from America, and said it must
have been fabricated by his enemies at Paris, to oppose his system.
Afterward, having been assured that there really existed such a person
as Franklin at Philadelphia (which he had doubted), he wrote and
published a volume of letters, chiefly addressed to me, defending his
theory, and denying the verity of my experiments, and of the positions
deduced from them. I once purposed answering the abbé, and actually
began the answer; but, on consideration that my writings contained a
description of experiments which any one might repeat and verify, and,
if not to be verified, could not be defended; or of observations offered
as _conjectures_, and not delivered dogmatically, therefore not laying
me under any obligation to defend them; and reflecting that a dispute
between two persons, written in different languages, might be lengthened
greatly by mistranslations, and thence misconceptions of another's
meaning, much of one of the abbé's letters being founded on an error in
the translation, I concluded to let my papers shift for themselves,
believing it was better to spend what time I could spare from public
business in making new experiments than in disputing about those already
made. I therefore never answered Monsieur Nollet, and the event gave me
no cause to repent my silence; for my friend, Monsieur Le Roy, of the
Royal Academy of Sciences, took up my cause and refuted him: my book was
translated into the Italian, German, and Latin languages; and the
doctrine it contained was, by degrees, generally adopted by the
philosophers of Europe, in preference to that of the abbé; so that he
lived to see himself the last of his sect, except Monsieur B----, of
Paris, his _eléve_ and immediate disciple.

What gave my book the more sudden and general celebrity, was the success
of one of its proposed experiments, made by Messieurs Dalibard and
Delor, at Marly, for drawing lightning from the clouds. This engaged the
public attention everywhere. Monsieur Delor, who had an apparatus for
experimental philosophy, and lectured in that branch of science,
undertook to repeat what he called the _Philadelphia experiments_; and
after they were performed before the king and court, all the curious of
Paris flocked to see them. I will not swell this narrative with an
account of that capital experiment, nor of the infinite pleasure I
received in the success of a similar one I made soon after with a kite
at Philadelphia, as both are to be found in the histories of
electricity. Dr. Wright, an English physician, when at Paris, wrote to a
friend, who was of the Royal Society, an account of the high esteem my
experiments were in among the learned abroad, and of their wonder that
my writings had been so little noticed in England. The society, on this,
resumed the consideration of the letters that had been read to them, and
the celebrated Dr. Watson drew up a summary account of them, and of all
I had afterward sent to England on the subject, which he accompanied
with some praise of the writer. This summary was then printed in their
transactions: and some members of the society in London, particularly
the very ingenious Mr. Canton, having verified the experiment of
procuring lightning from the clouds by a pointed rod, and acquainted
them with the success, they soon made me more than amends for the slight
with which they had before treated me. Without my having made any
application for that honour, they chose me a member; and voted that I
should be excused the customary payments, which would have amounted to
twenty-five guineas; and ever since have given me their transactions
gratis.[12] They also presented me with the gold medal of Sir Godfrey
Copley, for the year 1753, the delivery of which was accompanied by a
very handsome speech of the president, Lord Macclesfield, wherein I was
highly honoured.

Our new governor, Captain Denny, brought over for me the
before-mentioned medal from the Royal Society, which he presented to me
at an entertainment given him by the city. He accompanied it with very
polite expressions of his esteem for me, having, as he said, been long
acquainted with my character. After dinner, when the company, as was
customary at that time, were engaged in drinking, he took me aside into
another room, and acquainted me that he had been advised by his friends
in England to cultivate a friendship with me, as one who was capable of
giving him the best advice, and of contributing most effectually to
render his administration easy. That he therefore desired of all things
to have a good understanding with me, and he begged me to be assured of
his readiness on all occasions to render me any service that might be in
his power. He said much to me also of the proprietors' good disposition
towards the province, and of the advantage it would be to us all, and to
me in particular, if the opposition that had been so long continued to
his measures was dropped, and harmony restored between him and the
people, in effecting which it was thought no one could be more
serviceable than myself; and I might depend on adequate acknowledgments
and recompenses, &c. The drinkers, finding we did not return immediately
to the table, sent us a decanter of Madeira, which the governor made
liberal use of, and, in proportion, became more profuse of his
solicitations and promises. My answers were to this purpose; that my
circumstances, thanks to God, were such as to make proprietary favours
unnecessary to me; and that, being a member of the Assembly, I could not
possibly accept of any; that, however, I had no personal enmity to the
proprietary, and that, whenever the public measures he proposed should
appear to be for the good of the people, no one would espouse and
forward them more zealously than myself; my past opposition had been
founded on this, that the measures which had been urged were evidently
intended to serve the proprietary interest with great prejudice to that
of the people. That I was much obliged to him (the governor) for his
profession of regard to me, and that he might rely on everything in my
power to render his administration as easy as possible, hoping, at the
same time, that he had not brought the same unfortunate instructions his
predecessors had been hampered with. On this he did not then explain
himself; but when he afterward came to do business with the Assembly,
they appeared again; the disputes were renewed, and I was as active as
ever in the opposition, being the penman, first of the request to have a
communication of the instructions, and then of the remarks upon them,
which may be found in the Votes of the Times, and in the HISTORICAL
REVIEW I afterward published: but between us personally no enmity arose;
we were often together; he was a man of letters, and had seen much of
the world, and was entertaining and pleasing in conversation. He gave
me information that my old friend Ralph was still alive, that he was
esteemed one of the best political writers in England; had been employed
in the dispute between Prince Frederic and the king, and had obtained a
pension of three hundred pounds a year; that his reputation was indeed
small as a poet, but his prose was thought as good as any man's.

The Assembly finally finding the proprietary obstinately persisted in
shackling the deputies with instructions, inconsistent not only with the
privileges of the people, but with the service of the crown, resolved to
petition the king against them, and appointed me their agent to go over
to England to present and support the petition. The house had sent up a
bill to the governor, granting a sum of sixty thousand pounds for the
king's use (ten thousand pounds of which was subjected to the orders of
the then general, Lord Loudon), which the governor, in compliance with
his instructions, absolutely refused to pass. I had agreed with Captain
Morris, of the packet at New-York, for my passage, and my stores were
put on board; when Lord Loudon arrived at Philadelphia, expressly, as he
told me, to endeavour an accommodation between the governor and
Assembly, that his majesty's service might not be obstructed by their
dissensions. Accordingly, he desired the governor and myself to meet
him, that he might hear what was to be said on both sides. We met and
discussed the business: in behalf of the Assembly, I urged the various
arguments that may be found in the public papers of that time, which
were of my writing, and are printed with the minutes of the Assembly;
and the governor pleaded his instructions, the bond he had given to
observe them, and his ruin if he disobeyed; yet seemed not unwilling to
hazard himself if Lord Loudon would advise it. This his lordship did not
choose to do, though I once thought I had nearly prevailed with him to
do it; but finally he rather chose to urge the compliance of the
Assembly; and he entreated me to use my endeavours with them for that
purpose, declaring that he would spare none of the king's troops for the
defence of our frontiers, and that, if we did not continue to provide
for that defence ourselves, they must remain exposed to the enemy. I
acquainted the house with what had passed, and presenting them with a
set of resolutions I had drawn up, declaring our rights, that we did not
relinquish our claim to those rights, but only suspended the exercise of
them on this occasion, through _force_, against which we protested, they
at length agreed to drop the bill, and frame another conformably to the
proprietary instructions; this, of course, the governor passed, and I
was then at liberty to proceed on my voyage. But, in the mean time, the
packet had sailed with my sea stores, which was some loss to me, and my
only recompense was his lordship's thanks for my service, all the credit
of obtaining the accommodation falling to his share.

He set out for New-York before me; and as the time for despatching the
packet-boats was in his disposition, and there were two then remaining
there, one of which, he said, was to sail very soon, I requested to know
the precise time, that I might not miss her by any delay of mine. The
answer was, "I have given out that she is to sail on Saturday next; but
I may let you know, _entre nous_, that if you are there by Monday
morning, you will be in time, but do not delay longer!" By some
accidental hinderance at a ferry, it was Monday noon before I arrived,
and I was much afraid she might have sailed, as the wind was fair; but I
was soon made easy by the information that she was still in the harbour,
and would not move till next day. One would imagine that I was now on
the very point of departing for Europe; I thought so, but I was not then
so well acquainted with his lordship's character, of which _indecision_
was one of the strongest features: I shall give some instances. It was
about the beginning of April that I came to New-York, and I think it was
near the end of June before we sailed. There were then two of the
packet-boats which had been long in readiness, but were detained for the
general's letters, which were always to be ready _to-morrow_. Another
packet arrived; she too was detained, and before we sailed a fourth was
expected. Ours was the first to be despatched, as having been there
longest. Passengers were engaged for all, and some extremely impatient
to be gone, and the merchants uneasy about their letters, and for the
orders they had given for ensurance (it being war-time) and for autumnal
goods; but their anxiety availed nothing; his lordship's letters were
not ready: and yet, whoever waited on him found him always at his desk,
pen in hand, and concluded he must needs write abundantly. Going myself
one morning to pay my respects, I found in his antechamber one Innis, a
messenger of Philadelphia, who had come thence express, with a packet
from Governor Denny for the general. He delivered to me some letters
from my friends there, which occasioned my inquiring when he was to
return, and where he lodged, that I might send some letters by him. He
told me he was ordered to call to-morrow at nine for the general's
answer to the governor, and should set off immediately; I put my letters
into his hands the same day. A fortnight after I met him again in the
same place. "So you are soon returned, Innis!" "Returned; no, I am not
gone yet." "How so?" "I have called here this and every morning these
two weeks past for his lordship's letters, and they are not yet ready."
"Is it possible, when he is so great a writer; for I see him constantly
at his escritoir." "Yes," said Innis, "but he is like St. George on the
signs; _always on horseback but never rides on_." This observation of
the messenger was, it seems, well founded; for, when in England, I
understood that Mr. Pitt (afterward Lord Chatham) gave it as one reason
for removing this general and sending Generals Amherst and Wolf, _that
the minister never heard from him, and could not know what he was
doing_.

This daily expectation of sailing, and all the three packets going down
to Sandy Hook to join the fleet there, the passengers thought it best to
be on board, lest, by a sudden order, the ships should sail and they be
left behind. There, if I remember, we were about six weeks, consuming
our sea stores and obliged to procure more. At length the fleet sailed,
the general and all his army on board bound to Louisburg, with intent to
besiege and take that fortress; all the packet-boats in company ordered
to attend the general's ship, ready to receive his despatches when they
should be ready. We were out five days before we got a letter with leave
to part, and then our ship quitted the fleet and steered for England.
The other two packets he still detained, carried them with him to
Halifax, where he stayed some time to exercise his men in sham attacks
upon sham forts; then altered his mind as to besieging Louisburg, and
returned to New-York with all his troops, together with the two packets
above mentioned, and all their passengers! During his absence the French
and savages had taken Fort George, on the frontier of that province, and
the Indians had massacred many of the garrison after capitulation. I saw
afterward in London Captain Bound, who commanded one of those packets;
he told me that when he had been detained a month, he acquainted his
lordship that his ship was grown foul to a degree that must necessarily
hinder her fast sailing (a point of consequence for a packet-boat), and
requested an allowance of time to heave her down and clean her bottom.
His lordship asked how long a time that would require. He answered,
Three days. The general replied, "If you can do it in one day, I give
leave, otherwise not; for you must certainly sail the day after
to-morrow." So he never obtained leave, though detained afterward from
day to day during full three months. I saw also in London one of
Bonell's passengers, who was so enraged against his lordship for
deceiving and detaining him so long at New-York, and then carrying him
to Halifax and back again, that he swore he would sue him for damages.
Whether he did or not I never heard; but, as he represented it, the
injury to his affairs was very considerable. On the whole, I wondered
much how such a man came to be intrusted with so important a business as
the conduct of a great army: but having since seen more of the great
world, and the means of obtaining, and motives for giving places and
employments, my wonder is diminished. General Shirley, on whom the
command of the army devolved upon the death of Braddock, would, in my
opinion, if continued in place, have made a much better campaign than
that of Loudon in 1756, which was frivolous, expensive, and disgraceful
to our nation beyond conception. For though Shirley was not bred a
soldier, he was sensible and sagacious in himself, and attentive to good
advice from others, capable of forming judicious plans, and quick and
active in carrying them into execution. Loudon, instead of defending the
colonies with his great army, left them totally exposed, while he
paraded idly at Halifax, by which means Fort George was lost; besides,
he deranged all our mercantile operations, and distressed our trade by a
long embargo on the exportation of provisions, on pretence of keeping
supplies from being obtained by the enemy, but in reality for beating
down their price in favour of the contractors, in whose profits, it was
said (perhaps from suspicion only), he had a share; and when at length
the embargo was taken off, neglected to send notice of it to
Charleston, where the Carolina fleet was detained near three months, and
whereby their bottoms were so much damaged by the worm that a great part
of them foundered in their passage home. Shirley was, I believe,
sincerely glad of being relieved from so burdensome a charge as the
conduct of an army must be to a man unacquainted with military business.
I was at the entertainment given by the city of New-York to Lord Loudon,
on his taking upon him the command. Shirley, though thereby superseded,
was present also. There was a great company of officers, citizens, and
strangers; and some chairs having been borrowed in the neighbourhood,
there was one among them very low, which fell to the lot of Mr. Shirley.
I sat by him, and perceiving it, I said, they have given you a very low
seat. "No matter, Mr. Franklin," said he, "I find a _low seat_ the
easiest."

While I was, as before mentioned, detained at New-York, I received all
the accounts of the provisions, &c., that I had furnished to Braddock,
some of which accounts could not sooner be obtained from the different
persons I had employed to assist in the business; I presented them to
Lord Loudon, desiring to be paid the balance. He caused them to be
examined by the proper officer, who, after comparing every article with
its voucher, certified them to be right; and his lordship promised to
give me an order on the paymaster for the balance due to me. This was,
however, put off from time to time; and though I called often for it by
appointment, I did not get it. At length, just before my departure, he
told me he had, on better consideration, concluded not to mix his
accounts with those of his predecessors. "And you," said he, "when in
England, have only to exhibit your accounts to the treasury, and you
will be paid immediately." I mentioned, but without effect, a great and
unexpected expense I had been put to by being detained so long at
New-York, as a reason for my desiring to be presently paid; and on my
observing that it was not right I should be put to any farther trouble
or delay in obtaining the money I had advanced, as I charged no
commission for my service, "Oh," said he, "you must not think of
persuading us that you are no gainer: we understand better those
matters, and know that every one concerned in supplying the army, finds
means, in the doing it, to fill his own pockets." I assured him that was
not my case, and that I had not pocketed a farthing; but he appeared
clearly not to believe me; and, indeed, I afterward learned, that
immense fortunes are often made in such employments: as to my balance, I
am not paid it to this day, of which more hereafter.

Our captain of the packet boasted much before we sailed of the swiftness
of his ship; unfortunately, when we came to sea, she proved the dullest
of ninety-six sail, to his no small mortification. After many
conjectures respecting the cause, when we were near another ship, almost
as dull as ours, which, however, gained upon us, the captain ordered all
hands to come aft, and stand as near the ensign staff as possible. We
were, passengers included, about forty persons; while we stood there,
the ship mended her pace, and soon left her neighbour far behind, which
proved clearly what our captain suspected, that she was loaded too much
by the head. The casks of water, it seems, had been placed forward;
these he therefore ordered to be moved farther aft, on which the ship
recovered her character, and proved the best sailer in the fleet. The
captain said she had once gone at the rate of thirteen knots, which is
accounted thirteen miles per hour. We had on board, as a passenger,
Captain Archibald Kennedy, of the royal navy, afterward Earl of
Cassilis, who contended that it was impossible, and that no ship ever
sailed so fast, and that there must have been some error in the
division of the logline, or some mistake in heaving the log. A wager
ensued between the two captains, to be decided when there should be
sufficient wind: Kennedy therefore examined the logline, and, being
satisfied with it, he determined to throw the log himself. Some days
after, when the wind was very fair and fresh, and the captain of the
packet (Lutwidge) said he believed she then went at the rate of thirteen
knots, Kennedy made the experiment, and owned his wager lost. The
foregoing fact I give for the sake of the following observation: it has
been remarked, as an imperfection in the art of shipbuilding, that it
can never be known till she is tried whether a new ship will or will not
be a good sailer; for that the model of a good sailing ship has been
exactly followed in a new one, which has been proved, on the contrary,
remarkably dull. I apprehend that this may partly be occasioned by the
different opinions of seamen respecting the modes of loading, rigging,
and sailing of a ship; each has his method; and the same vessel, laden
by the method and orders of one captain, shall sail worse than when by
the orders of another. Besides, it scarce ever happens that a ship is
formed, fitted for the sea, and sailed by the same person; one man
builds the hull, another rigs her, a third loads and sails her. No one
of these has the advantage of knowing all the ideas and experience of
the others, and, therefore, cannot draw just conclusions from a
combination of the whole. Even in the simple operation of sailing when
at sea, I have often observed different judgments in the officers who
commanded the successive watches, the wind being the same. One would
have the sails trimmed sharper than another, so that they seemed to have
no certain rule to govern by. Yet I think a set of experiments might be
instituted, first, to determine the most proper form of the hull for
swift sailing; next, the best dimensions and most proper place for the
masts; then the form and quantity of sails, and their position as the
winds may be; and, lastly, the disposition of the lading. This is an age
of experiments, and I think a set accurately made and combined would be
of great use.

We were several times chased in our passage, but outsailed everything;
and in thirty days had soundings. We had a good observation, and the
captain judged himself so near our port (Falmouth), that if we made a
good run in the night, we might be off the mouth of that harbour in the
morning; and, by running in the night, might escape the notice of the
enemy's privateers, who often cruised near the entrance of the channel.
Accordingly all sail was set that we could possibly carry, and the wind
being very fresh and fair, we stood right before it, and made great way.
The captain, after his observation, shaped his course, as he thought, so
as to pass wide of the Scilly rocks; but it seems there is sometimes a
strong current setting up St. George's Channel, which formerly caused
the loss of Sir Cloudesley Shovel's Squadron (in 1707): this was
probably also the cause of what happened to us. We had a watchman placed
in the bow, to whom they often called, "_Look well out before there_;"
and he as often answered, "_Ay, ay_;" but perhaps had his eyes shut, and
was half asleep at the time; they sometimes answering, as is said,
mechanically: for he did not see a light just before us, which had been
hid by the studding sails from the man at the helm and from the rest of
the watch, but by an accidental yaw of the ship was discovered, and
occasioned a great alarm, we being very near it; the light appearing to
me as large as a cart wheel. It was midnight, and our captain fast
asleep; but Captain Kennedy, jumping upon deck and seeing the danger,
ordered the ship to wear round, all sails standing; an operation
dangerous to the masts, but it carried us clear, and we avoided
shipwreck, for we were running fast on the rocks on which the light was
erected. This deliverance impressed me strong with the utility of
light-houses, and made me resolve to encourage the building some of them
in America, if I should live to return thither.

In the morning it was found by our soundings, &c., that we were near our
port, but a thick fog hid the land from our sight. About nine o'clock
the fog began to rise, and seemed to be lifted up from the water like
the curtain of a theatre, discovering underneath the town of Falmouth,
the vessels in the harbour, and the fields that surround it. This was a
pleasing spectacle to those who had been long without any other prospect
than the uniform view of a vacant ocean! and it gave us the more
pleasure, as we were now free from the anxieties which had arisen.[13]

I set out immediately, with my son,[14] for London, and we only stopped
a little by the way to view Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain; and Lord
Pembroke's house and gardens, with the very curious antiquities at
Wilton.

We arrived in London, July 27th, 1757.

[Conclusion of Memoirs written by himself.]

FOOTNOTES:

[10] This little book is dated _Sunday_, 1st _July_, 1773, and is in the
possession of Mr. W. T. Franklin: a copy was also in the possession of
the late B. T. Bache.

[11] Fothergill (John), F.R.S., an eminent physician, born in 1712, at
Carr End, in Yorkshire, of Quaker parents, died in 1780.

[12] Dr. Franklin gives a farther account of his election in the
following extract of a letter to his son, Governor Franklin.

"London, Dec. 19, 1767.

"We have had an ugly affair at the Royal Society lately. One
Dacosti, a Jew, who, as our clerk, was intrusted with collecting
our moneys, has been so unfaithful as to embezzle near thirteen
hundred pounds in four years. Being one of the council this year as
well as the last, I have been employed all the last week in
attending the inquiry into, and unravelling his accounts, in order
to come at a full knowledge of his frauds. His securities are bound
in one thousand pounds to the society, which they will pay, but we
are like to lose the rest. He had this year received twenty-six
admission payments of twenty-five guineas each, which he did not
bring to account.

"While attending this affair, I had an opportunity of looking over
the old council books and journals of the society; and having a
curiosity to see how I came in (of which I had never been
informed), I looked back for the minutes relating to it. You must
know it is not usual to admit persons that have not requested to be
admitted; and a recommendatory certificate in favour of the
candidate, signed by at least three of the members is by our rule
to be presented to the society, expressing that he is desirous of
that honour, and is so and so qualified. As I had never asked or
expected the honour, I was, as I said before, curious to see how
the business was managed. I found that the certificate, worded very
advantageously for me, was signed by Lord Macclesfield, then
president, Lord Parker, and Lord Willoughby; that the election was
by a unanimous vote; and the honour being voluntarily conferred by
the society unsolicited by me, it was thought wrong to demand or
receive the usual fees or composition; so that my name was entered
on the list with a vote of council _that I was not to pay
anything_. And, accordingly, nothing has ever been demanded of me.
Those who are admitted in the common way pay five guineas as
admission fees, and two guineas and a half yearly contribution, or
twenty five guineas down in lieu of it. In my case a substantial
favour accompanied the honour."

[13] In a letter from Dr. Franklin to his wife, dated at Falmouth, the
17th July, 1757, after giving her a similar account of his voyage,
escape, and landing, he adds, "The bell ringing for church, we went
thither immediately, and, with hearts full of gratitude, returned
sincere thanks to God for the mercies we had received."

[14] William Franklin, afterward governor of New-Jersey.

PART III.

[_Continuation by Dr. Stuber._[15]]

Dr. Franklin having mentioned his electrical discoveries only in a very
transient manner in the preceding memoirs, some farther account of them
cannot fail to be interesting.

He engaged in a course of electrical experiments with all the ardour and
thirst for discovery which characterized the philosophers of that day.
Of all the branches of experimental philosophy, electricity had been
least explored. The attractive power of amber is mentioned by
Theophrastus and Pliny, and from them by later naturalists. In the year
1600, Gilbert, an English physician, enlarged considerably the catalogue
of substances which have the property of attracting light bodies.
Boyle, Otto Guericke, a burgomaster of Magdeburg, celebrated as the
inventor of the airpump, Dr. Wall, and Sir Isaac Newton, added some
facts. Guericke first observed the repulsive power of electricity, and
the light and noise produced by it. In 1709, Hawkesbec communicated some
important observations and experiments to the world. For several years
electricity was entirely neglected, until Mr. Grey applied himself to
it, in 1728, with great assiduity. He and his friend Mr. Wheeler made a
great variety of experiments; in which they demonstrated that
electricity may be communicated from one body to another, even without
being in contact, and in this way may be conducted to a great distance.
Mr. Grey afterward found that, by suspending rods of iron by silk or
hair lines, and bringing an excited tube under them, sparks might be
drawn, and a light perceived at the extremities in the dark. M. du Faye,
intendant of the French king's gardens, made a number of experiments,
which added not a little to the science. He made the discovery of two
kinds of electricity, which he called _vitreous_ and _resinous_; the
former produced by rubbing glass, the latter from excited sulphur,
sealing-wax, &c. But this idea he afterward gave up as erroneous.
Between the year 1739 and 1742, Desauguliers made a number of
experiments, but added little of importance. He first used the terms
_conductors and electrics per se_. In 1742, several ingenious Germans
engaged in this subject; of these the principal were, Professor Boze, of
Wittemberg, Professor Winkler, of Leipsic, Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine
monk, professor of philosophy at Erfurt, and Dr. Ludolf, of Berlin. The
result of their researches astonished the philosophers of Europe. Their
apparatus was large, and by means of it they were enabled to collect
large quantities of the electric fluid, and thus to produce phenomena
which had been hitherto unobserved. They killed small birds, and set
spirits on fire. Their experiments excited the curiosity of other
philosophers. Collinson, about the year 1745, sent to the Library
Company of Philadelphia an account of these experiments, together with a
tube, and directions how to use it. Franklin, with some of his friends,
immediately engaged in a course of experiments, the result of which is
well known. He was enabled to make a number of important discoveries,
and to propose theories to account for various phenomena; which have
been universally adopted, and which bid fair to endure for ages. His
observations he communicated in a series of letters, to his friend
Collinson, the first of which is dated March 28, 1747. In these he shows
the power of points in draining and throwing off the electrical matter,
which had hitherto escaped the notice of electricians. He also made the
grand discovery of a _plus_ and _minus_, or of a _positive_ and
_negative_ state of electricity. We give him the honour of this without
hesitation, although the English have claimed it for their countryman,
Dr. Watson. Watson's paper is dated January 21, 1748; Franklin's July
11, 1747; several months prior. Shortly after, Franklin, from his
principles of the plus and minus state, explained, in a satisfactory
manner, the phenomena of the Leyden vial, first observed by Mr. Cuneus,
or by Professor Muschenbroeck, of Leyden, which had much perplexed
philosophers. He showed clearly that the bottle, when charged, contained
no more electricity than before, but that as much was taken from one
side as was thrown on the other; and that, to discharge it, nothing was
necessary but to produce a communication between the two sides by which
the equilibrium might be restored, and that then no signs of electricity
would remain. He afterward demonstrated, by experiments, that the
electricity did not reside in the coating, as had been supposed, but in
the pores of the glass itself. After a vial was charged, he removed the
coating, and found that, upon applying a new coating, the shock might
still be received. In the year 1749, he first suggested his idea of
explaining the phenomena of thunder-gusts, and of the aurora borealis,
upon electrical principles. He points out many particulars in which
lightning and electricity agree: and he adduces many facts, and
reasonings from facts, in support of his positions. In the same year he
conceived the astonishingly bold and grand idea of ascertaining the
truth of his doctrine by actually drawing down the lightning, by means
of sharp-pointed iron rods raised into the region of the clouds. Even in
this uncertain state, his passion to be useful to mankind displays
itself in a powerful manner. Admitting the identity of electricity and
lightning, and knowing the power of points in repelling bodies charged
with electricity, and in conducting their fire silently and
imperceptibly, he suggested the idea of securing houses, ships, &c.,
from being damaged by lightning, by erecting pointed rods, that should
rise some feet above the most elevated part, and descend some feet into
the ground or the water. The effect of these, he concluded, would be
either to prevent a stroke by repelling the cloud beyond the striking
distance, or by drawing off the electrical fire which it contained; or,
if they could not effect this, they would at least conduct the electric
matter to the earth, without injury to the building.

It was not until the summer of 1752 that he was enabled to complete his
grand and unparalleled discovery by experiment. The plan which he had
originally proposed was to erect on some high tower or other elevated
place a sentry-box, from which should rise a pointed iron rod, insulated
by being fixed in a cake of resin. Electrified clouds passing over this
would, he conceived, impart to it a portion of their electricity, which
would be rendered evident to the senses by sparks being emitted when a
key, the knuckle, or other conductor was presented to it. Philadelphia
at this time afforded no opportunity of trying an experiment of this
kind. While Franklin was waiting for the erection of a spire, it
occurred to him that he might have more ready access to the region of
clouds by means of a common kite. He prepared one by fastening two cross
sticks to a silk handkerchief, which would not suffer so much from the
rain as paper. To the upright stick was affixed an iron point. The
string was, as usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk.
Where the hempen string terminated a key was fastened. With this
apparatus, on the appearance of a thunder-gust approaching, he went out
into the commons, accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communicated
his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, too generally for the
interest of science, awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. He
placed himself under a shade to avoid the rain; his kite was raised; a
thunder-cloud passed over it; no sign of electricity appeared. He almost
despaired of success, when, suddenly, he observed the loose fibres of
his string to move towards an erect position. He now presented his
knuckle to the key, and received a strong spark. How exquisite must his
sensations have been at this moment! On this experiment depended the
fate of his theory. If he succeeded, his name would rank high among
those who had improved science; if he failed, he must inevitably be
subjected to the derision of mankind, or, what is worse, their pity, as
a well-meaning man, but a weak, silly projector. The anxiety with which
he looked for the result of his experiment may be easily conceived.
Doubts and despair had begun to prevail, when the fact was ascertained
in so clear a manner, that even the most incredulous could no longer
withhold their assent. Repeated sparks were drawn from the key, a vial
was charged, a shock given, and all the experiments made which are
usually performed with electricity.

About a month before this period, some ingenious Frenchman had completed
the discovery in the manner originally proposed by Dr. Franklin. The
letters which he sent to Mr. Collinson, it is said, were refused a place
in the Transactions of the Royal Society of London. However this may be,
Collinson published them in a separate volume, under the title of "New
Experiments and Observations on Electricity, made at Philadelphia, in
America." They were read with avidity, and soon translated into
different languages. A very incorrect French translation fell into the
hands of the celebrated Buffon, who, notwithstanding the disadvantages
under which the work laboured, was much pleased with it, and repeated
the experiments with success. He prevailed on his friend, M. D'Alibard,
to give his countrymen a more correct translation of the works of the
American electrician. This contributed much towards spreading a
knowledge of Franklin's principles in France. The king, Louis XV.,
hearing of these experiments, expressed a wish to be a spectator of
them. A course of experiments was given at the seat of the Duc D'Ayen,
at St. Germain, by M. de Lor. The applauses which the king bestowed upon
Franklin excited in Buffon, D'Alibard, and De Lor, an earnest desire of
ascertaining the truth of his theory of thunder-gust. Buffon erected his
apparatus on the tower of Monthar, M. D'Alibard at Mary-la-ville, and De
Lor at his house in the _Estrapade_ at Paris, some of the highest ground
in that capital. D'Alibard's machine first showed signs of electricity.
On the 10th of May, 1752, a thunder-cloud passed it, in the absence of
M'Alibard, and a number of sparks were drawn from it by Coiffier, a
joiner, with whom D'Alibard had left directions how to proceed, and by
M. Raulet the prior of Mary-la-ville. An account of this experiment was
given to the Royal Academy of Sciences, by M. D'Alibard, in a memoir,
dated May 13, 1752. On the 18th of May, M. de Lor proved equally
successful with the apparatus erected at his own house. These
philosophers soon excited those of other parts of Europe to repeat the
experiment, among whom none signalized themselves more than Father
Beccaria, of Turin, to whose observations science is much indebted. Even
the cold regions of Russia were penetrated by the ardour for discovery.
Professor Richman bade fair to add much to the stock of knowledge on
this subject, when an unfortunate flash from his conductor put a period
to his existence. The friends of science will long remember with regret
the amiable martyr to electricity.

By these experiments Franklin's theory was established in the most
convincing manner. When the truth of it could no longer be doubted, envy
and vanity endeavoured to detract from its merit. That an American, an
inhabitant of the obscure city of Philadelphia, the name of which was
hardly known, should be able to make discoveries and to frame theories
which had escaped the notice of the enlightened philosophers of Europe,
was too mortifying to be admitted. He must certainly have taken the idea
from some one else. An American, a being of an inferior order, make
discoveries! Impossible. It was said that the Abbé Nollet, 1748, had
suggested the idea of the similarity of lightning and electricity in his
_Leçons de Physique_. It is true that the abbé mentions the idea, but he
throws it out as a bare conjecture, and proposes no mode of ascertaining
the truth of it. He himself acknowledges that Franklin first entertained
the bold thought of bringing lightning from the heavens, by means of
pointed rods fixed in the air. The similarity of lightning and
electricity is so strong, that we need not be surprised at notice being
taken of it as soon as electrical phenomena became familiar. We find it
mentioned by Dr. Wall and Mr. Grey, while the science was in its
infancy. But the honor of forming a regular theory of thunder-gusts, of
suggesting a mode of determining the truth of it by experiments, and of
putting these experiments in practice, and thus establishing the theory
upon a firm and solid basis, is incontestibly due to Franklin.
D'Alibard, who made the first experiments in France, says that he only
followed the tract which Franklin had pointed out.

It has been of late asserted, that the honour of completing the
experiment with the electrical kite does not belong to Franklin. Some
late English paragraphs have attributed it to some Frenchman, whose name
they do not mention: and the Abbé Bertholon gives it to M. de Romas,
assessor to the presideal of Nerac: the English paragraphs probably
refer to the same person. But a very slight attention will convince us
of the injustice of this procedure: Dr. Franklin's experiment was made
in June, 1752, and his letter, giving an account of it, is dated October
19, 1752. M. de Romas made his first attempt on the 14th of May, 1753,
but was not successful until the 7th of June, a year after Franklin had
completed the discovery, and when it was known to all the philosophers
in Europe.

Besides these great principles, Franklin's letters on electricity
contain a number of facts and hints which have contributed greatly
towards reducing this branch of knowledge to a science. His friend, Mr.
Kinnersley, communicated to him a discovery of the different kinds of
electricity, excited by rubbing glass and sulphur. This, we have said,
was first observed by M. du Faye, but it was for many years neglected.
The philosophers were disposed to account for the phenomena rather from
a difference in the quantity of electricity collected, and even Du Faye
himself seems at last to have adopted this doctrine. Franklin at first
entertained the same idea; but, upon repeating the experiment, he
perceived that Mr. Kinnersley was right; and that the _vitreous_ and
_resinous_ electricity of Du Faye were nothing more than the _positive_
and _negative_ states which he had before observed; and that the glass
globe charged _positively_, or increased the quantity of electricity on
the prime conductor, while the globe of sulphur diminishes its natural
quantity, or charged _negatively_. These experiments and observations
opened a new field for investigation, upon which electricians entered
with avidity, and their labours have added much to the stock of our
knowledge.

In September, 1752, Franklin entered upon a course of experiments to
determine the state of electricity in the clouds. From a number of
experiments he formed this conclusion: "That the clouds of a
thunder-gust are most commonly in a negative state of electricity, but
sometimes in a positive state;" and from this it follows, as a necessary
consequence, "that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes, it is the
earth that strikes into the clouds, and not the clouds that strike into
the earth." The letter containing these observations is dated in
September, 1753; and yet the discovery of ascending thunder has been
said to be of a modern date, and has been attributed to the Abbé
Bertholon, who published his memoir on the subject in 1776.

Franklin's letters have been translated into most of the European
languages and into Latin. In proportion as they have become known, his
principles have been adopted. Some opposition was made to his theories,
particularly by the Abbé Nollet, who was, however, feebly supported,
while the first philosophers in Europe stepped forth in defence of
Franklin's principles, among whom D'Alibard and Beccaria were the most
distinguished. The opposition has gradually ceased, and the Franklinian
system is now universally adopted where science flourishes.

The important practical use which Franklin made of his discoveries, the
securing of houses from injury by lightning, has been already mentioned.
Pointed conductors are now very common in America; but prejudice has
hitherto prevented their general introduction into Europe,
notwithstanding the most undoubted proofs of their utility have been
given. But mankind can with difficulty be brought to lay aside
established practices, or to adopt new ones. And perhaps we have more
reason to be surprised that a practice, however rational, which was
proposed about forty years ago, should in that time have been adopted in
so many places, than that it has not universally prevailed. It is only
by degrees that the great body of mankind can be led into new practices,
however salutary their tendency. It is now nearly eighty years since
inoculation was introduced into Europe and America; and it is so far
from being general at present, that it will require one or two centuries
to render it so.

The disputes between the proprietaries and the people of the province
continued in full force, although a war was raging on the frontiers. Not
even the sense of danger was sufficient to reconcile, for ever so short
a time, their jarring interests. The Assembly still insisted upon the
justice of taxing the proprietary estates; but the governors constantly
refused their assent to this measure, without which no bill could pass
into a law. Enraged at the obstinacy, and what they conceived to be the
unjust proceedings of their opponents, the Assembly at length determined
to apply to the mother country for relief. A petition was addressed to
the king in council, stating the inconveniences under which the
inhabitants laboured, from the attention of the proprietaries to their
private interest, to the neglect of the general welfare of the
community, and praying for redress. Franklin was appointed to present
this address, as agent for the province of Pennsylvania, and departed
from America in June, 1757. In conformity to the instructions which he
had received from the legislature, he held a conference with the
proprietaries who then resided in England, and endeavoured to prevail
upon them to give up the long-contested point. Finding that they would
hearken to no terms of accommodation, he laid his petition before the
council. During this time Governor Denny assented to a law imposing a
tax, in which no discrimination was made in favour of the estates of the
Penn family. They, alarmed at this intelligence and Franklin's
exertions, used their utmost endeavours to prevent the royal sanction
being given to this law, which they represented as highly iniquitous,
designed to throw the burden of supporting government upon them, and
calculated to produce the most ruinous consequences to them and their
posterity. The cause was amply discussed before the privy council. The
Penns found here some strenuous advocates; nor were there wanting some
who warmly espoused the side of the people. After some time spent in
debate, a proposal was made that Franklin should solemnly engage that
the assessment of the tax should be so made as that the proprietary
estates should pay no more than a due proportion. This he agreed to
perform, the Penn family withdrew their opposition, and tranquillity was
thus once more restored to the province.

The mode in which this dispute was terminated is a striking proof of the
high opinion entertained of Franklin's integrity and honour, even by
those who considered him as inimical to their views. Nor was their
confidence ill-founded. The assessment was made upon the strictest
principle of equity; and the proprietary estates bore only a
proportionable share of the expenses of supporting government.

After the completion of this important business, Franklin remained at
the court of Great Britain as agent for the province of Pennsylvania.
The extensive knowledge which he possessed of the situation of the
colonies, and the regard which he always manifested for their interests,
occasioned his appointment to the same office by the colonies of
Massachusetts, Maryland, and Georgia. His conduct, in this situation,
was such as rendered him still more dear to his countrymen.

He had now an opportunity of indulging in the society of those friends
whom his merits had procured him while at a distance. The regard which
they had entertained for him was rather increased by a personal
acquaintance. The opposition which had been made to his discoveries in
philosophy gradually ceased, and the rewards of literary merit were
abundantly conferred upon him. The Royal Society of London, which had at
first refused his performances admission into its transactions, now
thought it an honour to rank him among its fellows. Other societies of
Europe were equally ambitious of calling him a member. The University of
St. Andrew, in Scotland, conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of
Laws. Its example was followed by the Universities of Edinburgh and
Oxford. His correspondence was sought for by the most eminent
philosophers of Europe. His letters to these abound with true science,
delivered in the most simple, unadorned manner.

The province of Canada was at this time in the possession of the French,
who had originally settled it. The trade with the Indians, for which its
situation was very convenient, was exceedingly lucrative. The French
traders here found a market for their commodities, and received in
return large quantities of rich furs, which they disposed of at a high
price in Europe. While the possession of this country was highly
advantageous to France, it was a grievous inconvenience to the
inhabitants of the British colonies. The Indians were almost generally
desirous to cultivate the friendship of the French, by whom they were
abundantly supplied with arms and ammunition. Whenever a war happened,
the Indians were ready to fall upon the frontiers; and this they
frequently did, even when Great Britain and France were at peace. From
these considerations, it appeared to be the interest of Great Britain to
gain the possession of Canada. But the importance of such an acquisition
was not well understood in England. Franklin about this time published
his Canada pamphlet, in which he, in a very forcible manner, pointed out
the advantages which would result from the conquest of this province.

An expedition against it was planned, and the command given to General
Wolfe. His success is well known. At the treaty in 1762, France ceded
Canada to Great Britain; and by her cession of Louisiana, at the same
time, relinquished all her possessions on the continent of America.

Although Dr. Franklin was now principally occupied with political
pursuits, he found time for philosophical studies. He extended his
electrical researches, and made a variety of experiments, particularly
on the tourmalin. The singular properties which this stone possesses, of
being electrified on one side positively, and on the other negatively,
by heat alone, without friction, had been but lately observed.

Some experiments on the cold produced by evaporation, made by Dr.
Cullen, had been communicated to Dr. Franklin by Professor Simpson, of
Glasgow. These he repeated, and found that, by the evaporation of ether
in the exhausted receiver of an airpump, so great a degree of cold was
produced in a summer's day, that water was converted into ice. This
discovery he applied to the solution of a number of phenomena,
particularly a single fact, which philosophers had endeavoured in vain
to account for, viz., that the temperature of the human body, when in
health, never exceeds 96 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer, although
the atmosphere which surrounds it may be heated to a much greater
degree. This he attributed to the increased perspiration and consequent
evaporation produced by the heat.

In a letter to Mr. Small, of London, dated in May, 1760, Dr. Franklin
makes a number of observations, tending to show that, in North America,
northeast storms begin in the southwest parts. It appears, from actual
observations, that a northeast storm, which extended a considerable
distance, commenced at Philadelphia nearly four hours before it was felt
at Boston. He endeavoured to account for this by supposing that, from
heat, some rarefication takes place about the Gulf of Mexico; that the
air farther north, being cooler, rushes in, and is succeeded by the
cooler and denser air still farther north, and that thus a continued
current is at length produced.

The tone produced by rubbing the brim of a drinking-glass with a wet
finger had been generally known. A Mr. Puckeridge, an Irishman, by
placing on a table a number of glasses of different sizes, and tuning
them, by partly filling them with water, endeavoured to form an
instrument capable of playing tunes. He was prevented, by an untimely
end, from bringing his invention to any degree of perfection. After his
death some improvements were made upon his plan. The sweetness of the
tones induced Dr. Franklin to make a variety of experiments; and he at
length formed that elegant instrument which he has called the
_Armonica_.

In the summer of 1762 he returned to America. On his passage he observed
the singular effect produced by the agitation of a vessel containing
oil floating on water. The surface of the oil remains smooth and
undisturbed, while the water is agitated with the utmost commotion. No
satisfactory explanation of this appearance has, we believe, ever been
given.

Dr. Franklin received the thanks of the Assembly of Pennsylvania, "as
well for the faithful discharge of his duty to that province in
particular, as for the many and important services done to America in
general during his residence in Great Britain." A compensation of
5000_l._, Pennsylvania currency, was also decreed him for his service
during six years.

During his absence he had been annually elected member of the Assembly.
On his return to Pennsylvania he again took his seat in this body, and
continued a steady defender of the liberties of the people.

In December, 1762, a circumstance which caused great alarm in the
province took place. A number of Indians had resided in the county of
Lancaster, and conducted themselves uniformly as friends to the white
inhabitants. Repeated depredations on the frontiers had exasperated the
inhabitants to such a degree, that they determined on revenge upon every
Indian. A number of persons, to the amount of about 120, principally
inhabitants of Donegal and Peckstang, or Paxton, townships, in the
county of York, assembled, and, mounted on horseback, proceeded to the
settlement of these harmless and defenceless Indians, whose number had
now been reduced to about twenty. The Indians received intelligence of
the attack which was intended against them, but disbelieved it.
Considering the white people as their friends, they apprehended no
danger from them. When the party arrived at the Indian settlement, they
found only some women and children, and a few old men, the rest being
absent at work. They murdered all whom they found, and among others the
chief Shaheas, who had been always distinguished for his friendship to
the whites. This bloody deed excited much indignation in the
well-disposed part of the community.

The remainder of these unfortunate Indians, who, by absence, had escaped
the massacre, were conducted to Lancaster, and lodged in the jail as a
place of security. The governor issued a proclamation, expressing the
strongest disapprobation of the action, offering a reward for the
discovery of the perpetrators of the deed, and prohibiting all injuries
to the peaceable Indians in future. But, notwithstanding this, a party
of the same men shortly after marched to Lancaster, broke open the jail,
and inhumanly butchered the innocent Indians who had been placed there
for security. Another proclamation was issued, but it had no effect. A
detachment marched down to Philadelphia for the express purpose of
murdering some friendly Indians, who had been removed to the city for
safety. A number of the citizens armed in their defence. The Quakers,
whose principles are opposed to fighting, even in their own defence,
were most active upon this occasion. The rioters came to Germantown. The
governor fled for safety to the house of Dr. Franklin, who, with some
others, advanced to meet the Paxton boys, as they were called, and had
influence enough to prevail upon them to relinquish their undertaking
and return to their homes.

The disputes between the proprietaries and the Assembly, which for a
time had subsided, were again revived. The proprietaries were
dissatisfied with the concessions made in favour of the people, and made
great struggles to recover the privilege of exempting their estates from
taxation, which they had been induced to give up.

In 1763 the Assembly passed a militia bill, to which the governor
refused to give his assent, unless the Assembly would agree to certain
amendments which he proposed. These consisted in increasing the fines,
and, in some cases, substituting death for fines. He wished, too, that
the officers should be appointed altogether by himself, and not be
nominated by the people, as the bill had proposed. These amendments the
Assembly considered as inconsistent with the spirit of liberty. They
would not adopt them; the governor was obstinate, and the bill was lost.

These, and various other circumstances, increased the uneasiness which
subsisted between the proprietaries and the Assembly, to such a degree
that, in 1764, a petition to the king was agreed to by the house,
praying an alteration from a _proprietary_ to a _regal_ government.
Great opposition was made to this measure, not only in the house, but in
the public prints. A speech of Mr. Dickenson on the subject was
published, with a preface by Dr. Smith, in which great pains were taken
to show the impropriety and impolicy of this proceeding. A speech of Mr.
Golloway, in reply to Mr. Dickenson, was published, accompanied with a
preface by Dr. Franklin, in which he ably opposed the principles laid
down in the preface to Mr. Dickenson's speech. This application to the
throne produced no effect. The proprietary government was still
continued.

At the election for a new Assembly, in the fall of 1764, the friends of
the proprietaries made great exertions to exclude those of the adverse
party; and they obtained a small majority in the city of Philadelphia.
Franklin now lost his seat in the house, which he had held for fourteen
years. On the meeting of the Assembly it appeared that there was still a
decided majority of Franklin's friends. He was immediately appointed
provincial agent, to the great chagrin of his enemies, who made a solemn
protest against this appointment: which was refused admission upon the
minutes, as being unprecedented. It was, however, published in the
papers, and produced a spirited reply from him, just before his
departure for England.

The disturbances produced in America by Mr. Grenville's stamp-act, and
the opposition made to it, are well known. Under the Marquis of
Rockingham's administration, it appeared expedient to endeavour to calm
the minds of the colonists, and the repeal of the odious tax was
contemplated. Among other means of collecting information on the
disposition of the people to submit to it, Dr. Franklin was called to
the bar of the House of Commons. The examination which he here underwent
was published, and contains a striking proof of the extent and accuracy
of his information, and the facility with which he communicated his
sentiments. He represented facts in so strong a point of view, that the
expediency of the act must have appeared clear to every unprejudiced
mind. The act, after some opposition, was repealed, about a year after
it was enacted, and before it had ever been carried into execution.

In the year 1766, he made a visit to Holland and Germany, and received
the greatest marks of attention from men of science. In his passage
through Holland, he learned from the watermen the effect which a
diminution of the quantity of water in canals has in impeding the
progress of boats. Upon his return to England, he was led to make a
number of experiments, all of which tended to confirm the observation.
These, with an explanation of the phenomenon, he communicated in a
letter to his friend, Sir John Pringle, which is among his philosophical
pieces.

In the following year he travelled into France, where he met with a no
less favourable reception than he had experienced in Germany. He was
introduced to a number of literary characters, and to the king, Louis
XV.

Several letters, written by Hutchinson, Oliver, and others, to persons
in eminent stations in Great Britain, came into the hands of Dr.
Franklin. These contained the most violent invectives against the
leading characters of the State of Massachusetts, and strenuously
advised the prosecution of vigorous measures to compel the people to
obedience to the measures of the ministry. These he transmitted to the
legislature, by whom they were published. Attested copies of them were
sent to Great Britain, with an address, praying the king to discharge
from office persons who had rendered themselves obnoxious to the people,
and who had shown themselves so unfriendly to their interests. The
publication of these letters produced a duel between Mr. Whately and Mr.
Temple; each of whom was suspected of having been instrumental in
procuring them. To prevent any farther disputes on this subject, Dr.
Franklin, in one of the public papers, declared that he had sent them to
America, but would give no information concerning the manner in which he
had obtained them; nor was this ever discovered.

Shortly after, the petition of the Massachusetts Assembly was taken up
for examination before the privy council. Dr. Franklin attended as agent
for the Assembly; and here a torrent of the most violent and unwarranted
abuse was poured upon him by the solicitor-general, Wedderburne, who was
engaged as counsel for Oliver and Hutchinson. The petition was declared
to be scandalous and vexatious, and the prayer of it refused.

Although the parliament of Great Britain had repealed the stamp-act, it
was only upon the principle of expediency. They still insisted upon
their right to tax the colonies; and, at the same time that the
stamp-act was repealed, an act was passed declaring the right of
parliament to bind the colonies in all cases whatever. This language was
used even by most strenuous opposers of the stamp-act, and, among
others, by Mr. Pitt. This right was never recognised by the colonists;
but, as they flattered themselves that it would not be exercised, they
were not very active in remonstrating against it. Had this pretended
right been suffered to remain dormant, the colonists would cheerfully
have furnished their quota of supplies, in the mode to which they had
been accustomed; that is, by acts of their own assemblies, in
consequence of requisitions from the secretary of state. If this
practice had been pursued, such was the disposition of the colonies
towards their mother country, that, notwithstanding the disadvantages
under which they laboured, from restraints upon their trade, calculated
solely for the benefit of the commercial and manufacturing interests of
Great Britain, a separation of the two countries might have been a far
distant event. The Americans, from their earliest infancy, were taught
to venerate a people from whom they were descended; whose language,
laws, and manners were the same as their own. They looked up to them as
models of perfection; and, in their prejudiced minds, the most
enlightened nations of Europe were considered as almost barbarians in
comparison with Englishmen. The name of an Englishman conveyed to an
American the idea of everything good and great. Such sentiments
instilled into them in early life, what but a repetition of unjust
treatment could have induced them to entertain the most distant thought
of separation! The duties on glass, paper, leather, painters' colours,
tea, &c., the disfranchisement of some of the colonies, the obstruction
to the measures of the legislature in others by the king's governors,
the contemptuous treatment of their humble remonstrances, stating their
grievances, and praying a redress of them, and other violent and
oppressive measures, at length excited an ardent spirit of opposition.
Instead of endeavouring to allay this by a more lenient conduct, the
ministry seemed resolutely bent upon reducing the colonies to the most
slavish obedience to their decrees. But this only tended to aggravate.
Vain were all the efforts made use of to prevail upon them to lay aside
their designs, to convince them of the impossibility of carrying them
into effect, and of the mischievous consequences which must ensue from
the continuance of the attempt. They persevered with a degree of
inflexibility scarcely paralleled.

The advantages which Great Britain derived from her colonies was so
great, that nothing but a degree of infatuation little short of madness
could have produced a continuance of measures calculated to keep up a
spirit of uneasiness, which might occasion the slightest wish for a
separation. When we consider the great improvements in the science of
government, the general diffusion of the principles of liberty among the
people of Europe, the effects which these have already produced in
France, and the probable consequences which will result from them
elsewhere, all of which are the offspring of the American revolution, it
cannot but appear strange that events of so great moment to the
happiness of mankind should have been ultimately occasioned by the
wickedness or ignorance of a British ministry.

Dr. Franklin left nothing untried to prevail upon the ministry to
consent to a change of measures. In private conversations, and in
letters to persons in government, he continually expatiated upon the
impolicy and injustice of their conduct towards America; and stated
that, notwithstanding the attachment of the colonists to the mother
country, a repetition of ill-treatment must ultimately alienate their
affections. They listened not to his advice. They blindly persevered in
their own schemes, and left to the colonists no alternative but
opposition or unconditional submission. The latter accorded not with
the principles of freedom which they had been taught to revere. To the
former they were compelled, though reluctantly, to have recourse.

Dr. Franklin finding all efforts to restore harmony between Great
Britain and her colonies useless, returned to America in the year 1775,
just after the commencement of hostilities. The day after his return, he
was elected by the legislature of Pennsylvania a delegate to Congress.
Not long after his election, a committee was appointed, consisting of
Mr. Lynch, Mr. Harrison, and himself, to visit the camp at Cambridge,
and, in conjunction with the commander-in-chief, to endeavour to
convince the troops, whose term of enlistment was about to expire, of
the necessity of their continuing in the field, and persevering in the
cause of their country.

In the fall of the same year he visited Canada, to endeavour to unite
them in the common cause of liberty; but they could not be prevailed
upon to oppose the measures of the British government. M. le Roy, in a
letter annexed to Abbé Fauchett's eulogium of Dr. Franklin, states that
the ill success of this negotiation was occasioned in a great degree by
religious animosities, which subsisted between the Canadians and their
neighbours, some of whom had, at different times, burned their chapels.

When Lord Howe came to America in 1776, vested with power to treat with
the colonists, a correspondence took place between him and Dr. Franklin
on the subject of a reconciliation. Dr. Franklin was afterward
appointed, together with John Adams and Edward Rutledge, to wait upon
the commissioners, in order to learn the extent of their powers. These
were found to be only to grant pardons upon submission. These were terms
which could not be accepted, and the object of the commissioners could
not be obtained.

The momentous question of independence was shortly after brought into
view, at a time when the fleets and armies which were sent to enforce
obedience were truly formidable. With an army, numerous indeed, but
ignorant of discipline, and entirely unskilled in the art of war,
without money, without a fleet, without allies, and with nothing but the
love of liberty to support them, the colonists determined to separate
from a country from which they had experienced a repetition of injury
and insult. In this question Dr. Franklin was decidedly in favour of the
measure proposed, and had great influence in bringing others over to his
sentiments.

The public mind had been already prepared for this event by Mr. Paine's
celebrated pamphlet, _Common Sense_. There is good reason to believe
that Dr. Franklin had no inconsiderable share at least in furnishing
materials for this work.

In the convention which assembled at Philadelphia in 1776, for the
purpose of establishing a new form of government for the State of
Pennsylvania, Dr. Franklin was chosen president. The late constitution
of this state, which was the result of their deliberations, may be
considered as a digest of his principles of government. The single
legislature and the plural executive seem to have been his favourite
tenets.

In the latter end of 1776, Dr. Franklin was appointed to assist at the
negotiation which had been set on foot by Silas Deane, at the court of
France. A conviction of the advantages of a commercial intercourse with
America, and a desire of weakening the British empire by dismembering
it, first induced the French court to listen to proposals of an
alliance. But they showed rather a reluctance to the measure, which, by
Dr. Franklin's address, and particularly by the success of the American
arms against General Burgoyne, was at length overcome; and in February,
1778, a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, was concluded; in
consequence of which, France became involved in the war with Great
Britain.

Perhaps no person could have been found more capable of rendering
essential services to the United States at the court of France than Dr.
Franklin. He was well known as a philosopher, and his character was held
in the highest estimation. He was received with the greatest marks of
respect by all the literary characters, and this respect was extended
among all classes of men. His personal influence was hence very
considerable. To the effects of this were added those of various
performances which he published, tending to establish the credit and
character of the United States. To his exertions in this way may, in no
small degree, be ascribed the success of the loans negotiated in Holland
and France, which greatly contributed to bringing the war to a happy
conclusion.

The repeated ill success of their arms, and more particularly the
capture of Cornwallis and his army, at length convinced the British
nation of the impossibility of reducing the Americans to subjection. The
trading interest particularly became clamorous for peace. The ministry
were unable longer to oppose their wishes. Provisional articles of peace
were agreed to, and signed at Paris, on the 30th of November, 1782, by
Dr. Franklin, Mr. Adams, Mr. Jay, and Mr. Laurens, on the part of the
United States, and by Mr. Oswald on the part of Great Britain. These
formed the basis of the definitive treaty, which was concluded the 3d of
September, 1783, and signed by Dr. Franklin, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Jay on
the one part, and by Mr. David Hartly on the other.

On the 3rd of April, 1783, a treaty of Amity and Commerce between the
United States and Sweden, was concluded at Paris by Dr. Franklin and the
Count Von Krutz.

A similar treaty with Prussia was concluded in 1785, not long before
Dr. Franklin's departure from Europe.

Dr. Franklin did not suffer his political pursuits to engross his whole
attention. Some of his performances made their appearance in Paris. The
objects of these were generally the promotion of industry and economy.

In the year 1784, when animal magnetism made great noise in the world,
particularly at Paris, it was thought a matter of such importance that
the king appointed commissioners to examine into the foundation of this
pretended science. Dr. Franklin was one of the number. After a fair and
diligent examination, in the course of which Mesmer repeated a number of
experiments, in the presence of the commissioners, some of which were
tried upon themselves, they determined that it was a mere trick,
intended to impose upon the ignorant and credulous. Mesmer was thus
interrupted in his career to wealth and fame, and a most insolent
attempt to impose upon the human understanding baffled.

The important ends of Dr. Franklin's mission being completed by the
establishment of American independence, and the infirmities of age and
disease coming upon him, he became desirous of returning to his native
country. Upon application to Congress to be recalled, Mr. Jefferson was
appointed to succeed him in 1785. Some time in September of the same
year Dr. Franklin arrived in Philadelphia. He was shortly after chosen a
member of the supreme executive council for the city, and soon after was
elected president of the same.

When a convention was called to meet in Philadelphia, in 1787, for the
purpose of giving more energy to the government of the union, by
revising and amending the articles of confederation, Dr. Franklin was
appointed a delegate from the State of Pennsylvania. He signed the
constitution which they proposed for the union, and gave it the most
unequivocal marks of his approbation.

A society for political inquiries, of which Dr. Franklin was president,
was established about this period. The meetings were held at his house.
Two or three essays read in this society were published. It did not long
continue.

In the year 1787, two societies were established in Philadelphia,
founded on the principles of the most liberal and refined humanity: _The
Philadelphia Society for alleviating the miseries of public prisons: and
the Pennsylvania Society for promoting the abolition of slavery, the
relief of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage, and the improvement
of the condition of the African race._ Of each of these Dr. Franklin was
president. The labours of these bodies have been crowned with great
success; and they continue to prosecute, with unwearied diligence, the
laudable designs for which they were established.

Dr. Franklin's increasing infirmities prevented his regular attendance
at the council chamber, and in 1788 he retired wholly from public life.

His constitution had been a remarkably good one. He had been little
subject to disease, except an attack of the gout occasionally, until
about the year 1781, when he was first attacked with symptoms of the
calculous complaint, which continued during his life. During the
intervals of pain from this grievous disease, he spent many cheerful
hours, conversing in the most agreeable and instructive manner. His
faculties were entirely unimpaired, even to the hour of his death.

His name, as president of the abolition society, was signed to the
memorial presented to the House of Representatives of the United States,
on the 12th of February, 1789, praying them to exert the full extent of
power vested in them by the constitution in discouraging the traffic in
the human species. This was his last public act. In the debates to
which this memorial gave rise, several attempts were made to justify
the trade. In the Federal Gazette of March 25, there appeared an essay,
signed Historicus, written by Dr. Franklin, in which he communicated a
speech, said to have been delivered in the Divan of Algiers, in 1687, in
opposition to the prayer of the petition of a sect called _Erika_, or
purists, for the abolition of piracy and slavery. This pretended African
speech was an excellent parody of one delivered by Mr. Jackson, of
Georgia. All the arguments urged in favour of negro slavery are applied
with equal force to justify the plundering and enslaving of Europeans.
It affords, at the same time, a demonstration of the futility of the
arguments in defence of the slave-trade, and of the strength of mind and
ingenuity of the author, at his advanced period of life. It furnished,
too, a no less convincing proof of his power of imitating the style of
other times and nations than his celebrated parable against persecution.
And as the latter led many persons to search the scriptures with a view
to find it, so the former caused many persons to search the bookstores
and libraries for the work from which it was said to be extracted.

During the greatest part of his life Dr. Franklin had enjoyed an almost
uninterrupted state of good health, and this he entirely attributed to
his exemplary temperance.

In the year 1735, indeed, he had been seized with a pleurisy, which
ended in a suppuration of the left lobe of the lungs, so that he was
almost suffocated by the quantity of matter thrown up. But from this, as
well as from another attack of the same kind, he recovered so
completely, that his breathing was not in the least affected.

As he advanced in years, however, he became subject to fits of the gout,
to which, in 1782, a nephritic cholic was superadded. From this time he
was also affected with the stone as well as the gout; and for the last
twelve months of his life these complaints almost entirely confined him
to his bed.

Notwithstanding his distressed situation, neither his mental faculties
nor his natural cheerfulness ever forsook him. His memory was tenacious
to the very last; and he seemed to be an exception to the general rule,
that, at a certain period of life, the organs which are subservient to
this faculty become callous; a remarkable instance of which is, that he
learned to speak French after he had attained the age of seventy!

In the beginning of April following, he was attacked with a fever and
complaint of his breast, which terminated his existence. The following
account of his last illness was written by his friend and physician, Dr.
Jones.

"The stone, with which he had been afflicted for several years, had for
the last twelve months confined him chiefly to his bed; and during the
extreme painful paroxysms, he was obliged to take large doses of
laudanum to mitigate his tortures; still, in the intervals of pain, he
not only amused himself with reading and conversing cheerfully with his
family, and a few friends who visited him, but was often employed in
doing business of a public as well as private nature, with various
persons who waited on him for that purpose; and in every instance
displayed not only that readiness and disposition of doing good which
was the distinguishing characteristic of his life, but the fullest and
clearest possession of his uncommon mental abilities, and not
unfrequently indulged himself in those _jeux d'esprit_ and entertaining
anecdotes which were the delight of all who heard him.

"About sixteen days before his death, he was seized with a feverish
indisposition, without any particular symptoms attending it, till the
third or fourth day, when he complained of a pain in his left breast,
which increased till it became extremely acute, attended with a cough
and labourious breathing. During this state, when the severity of his
pain sometimes drew forth a groan of complaint, he would observe, that
he was afraid he did not bear them as he ought, acknowledged his
grateful sense of the many blessings he had received from that Supreme
Being who had raised him from small and low beginnings to such high rank
and consideration among men, and made no doubt but his present
afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from a world in which he
was no longer fit to act the part assigned him. In this frame of body
and mind he continued till five days before his death, when his pain and
difficulty of breathing entirely left him, and his family were
flattering themselves with the hopes of his recovery, when an
imposthumation, which had formed itself in his lungs, suddenly burst,
and discharged a great quantity of matter, which he continued to throw
up while he had sufficient strength to do it; but as that failed, the
organs of respiration became gradually oppressed, a calm lethargic state
succeeded, and, on the 17th of April, 1790, about eleven o'clock at
night, he quietly expired, closing a long and useful life of eighty-four
years and three months."[16]

The following account of his funeral, and the honours paid to his
memory, is derived from an anonymous source, but is correct.

"All that was mortal of this great man was interred on the 21st of
April, in the cemetery of Christ Church, Philadelphia, in that part
adjoining to Arch-street, N. W. corner, in order that, if a monument
should be erected over his grave, it might be seen to more advantage.

"Never was any funeral so numerously and so respectably attended in any
part of the States of America. The concourse of people assembled upon
this occasion was immense. All the bells in the city were muffled, and
the very newspapers were published with black borders. The body was
interred amid peals of artillery; and nothing was omitted that could
display the veneration of the citizens for such an illustrious
character.

"The Congress ordered a general mourning for one month throughout
America; the National Assembly of France paid the same compliment for
three days; and the commons of Paris, as an extraordinary tribute of
honour to his memory, assisted in a body at the funeral oration,
delivered by the Abbé Fauchet, in the rotunda of the corn-market, which
was hung with black, illuminated with chandeliers, and decorated with
devices analogous to the occasion.

"Dr. Smith, provost of the college of Philadelphia, and David
Rittenhouse, one of its members, were selected by the Philosophical
Society to prepare a eulogium to the memory of its founder; and the
subscribers to the City Library, who had just erected a handsome
building for containing their books, left a vacant niche for a statue of
their benefactor.

"This has since been placed there by the munificence of an estimable
citizen of Philadelphia. It was imported from Italy; the name of the
artist is Francis Lazzarini; it is composed of Carara marble, and cost
500 guineas.

"It was the first piece of sculpture of that size which had been seen in
America. Franklin is represented in a standing posture; one arm is
supported by means of some books, in his right hand he holds an inverted
sceptre, an emblem of anti-monarchical principles, and in his left a
scroll of paper. He is dressed in a Roman toga. The resemblance is
correct; the head is a copy from the excellent bust produced by the
chisel of Houdon. The following inscription is engraven on the pedestal:

THIS STATUE

DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,

WAS PRESENTED BY

WILLIAM BINGHAM, ESQ.,

1792.

"Franklin's life," says the anonymous writer of the foregoing, "affords
one of the finest moral lessons that can be offered up to the
admiration, the applause, or the imitation of mankind.

"As a man, we have beheld him practising and inculcating the virtues of
frugality, temperance, and industry.

"As a citizen, we have seen him repelling the efforts of tyranny, and
ascertaining the liberty of his countrymen.

"As a legislator, he affords a bright example of a genius soaring above
corruption, and continually aiming at the happiness of his constituents.

"As a politician, we survey him, on one hand, acquiring the aid of a
powerful nation, by means of his skilful negotiations; and on the other,
calling forth the common strength of a congress of republics, by fixing
a central point to which they could all look up, and concentrating their
common force for the purposes of union, harmony, legislation, and
defence.

"As a philosopher, his labours and his discoveries are calculated to
advance the interests of humanity: he might, indeed, have been justly
termed the friend of man, the benefactor of the universe!

"The pursuits and occupations of his early youth afford a most excellent
and instructive example to the young; his middle life, to the adult; his
advanced years, to the aged. From him the poor may learn to acquire
wealth, and the rich to adapt it to the purposes of beneficence.

"In regard to his character, he was rather sententious than fluent; more
disposed to listen than to talk; a judicious rather than an imposing
companion. He was what, perhaps, every able man is, impatient of
interruption; for he used to mention the custom of the Indians with
great applause, who, after listening with a profound attention to the
observations of each other, preserve a respectful silence for some
minutes before they begin their own reply.

"He was polite in his manners, and never gave a pointed contradiction to
the assertions of his friends or his antagonists, but treated every
argument with great calmness, and conquered his adversaries rather by
the force of reason than assertion."

The advice of his death reached France at a period well adapted to
excite great emotions; and in the National Assembly, 11th June, 1790,
Mr. Mirabeau the elder addressed the assembly as follows:

"FRANKLIN IS DEAD!"

[A profound silence reigned throughout the hall.]

"The genius which gave freedom to America and scattered torrents of
light upon Europe, is returned to the bosom of the Divinity!

"The sage whom two worlds claim; the man, disputed by the history
of the sciences and the history of empires, holds, most
undoubtedly, an elevated rank among the human species.

"Political cabinets have but too long notified the death of those
who were never great but in their funeral orations; the etiquette
of courts has but too long sanctioned hypocritical grief. Nations
ought only to mourn for their benefactors; the representatives of
free men ought never to recommend any other than the heroes of
humanity to their homage.

"The Congress hath ordered a general mourning for one month
throughout the fourteen confederated states, on account of the
death of Franklin; and America hath thus acquitted her tribute of
admiration in behalf of one of the fathers of her constitution.

"Would it not be worthy of you, fellow-legislators, to unite
yourselves in this religious act, to participate in this homage
rendered in the face of the universe to the rights of man, and to
the philosopher who has so eminently propagated the conquest of
them throughout the world?

"Antiquity would have elevated altars to that mortal who, for the
advantage of the human race, embracing both heaven and earth in his
vast and extensive mind, knew how to subdue thunder and tyranny!

"Enlightened and free, Europe at least owes its remembrance and its
regret to one of the greatest men who has ever served the cause of
philosophy and of liberty.

"I propose that a decree do now pass, enacting that the National
Assembly shall wear mourning during three days for Benjamin
Franklin."

MM. de la Rochefoucault and Lafayette immediately rose in order to
second this motion.

The assembly adopted it, at first by acclamation; and afterward decreed,
by a large majority, amid the plaudits of all the spectators, that on
Monday 14th of June, it should go into mourning for three days; that the
discourse of M. Mirabeau should be printed; and that the president
should write a letter of condolence upon the occasion to the Congress
of America.[17]

The following character of Dr. Franklin, by one of his intimate friends,
is so ably and accurately drawn, that we cannot refrain adding it to the
foregoing.

"There is in the character of every distinguished person something to
admire and something to imitate. The incidents that have marked the life
of a great man always excite curiosity and often afford improvement. If
there be talents which we can never expect to equal, if there be a
series of good fortune which we can never expect to enjoy, we still need
not lose the labour of our biographical inquiries. We may probably
become acquainted with habits which it may be prudent to adopt, and
discover virtues which we cannot fail to applaud. It will be easy for
the reader to make a full application of these remarks in his
contemplations upon the late celebrated DR. FRANKLIN. By his death one
of the best lights of the world may be said to be extinguished. I shall
not attempt any historical details of the life of this illustrious
patriot and philosopher, as I have nothing farther in view than to make
a few comments upon the most striking traits of his character.

"Original genius was peculiarly his attribute. The native faculties of
his mind qualified him to penetrate into every science: and his
unremitted diligence left no field of knowledge unexplored. There were
no limits to his curiosity. His inquiries were spread over the whole
face of nature. But the study of man seemed to be his highest delight:
and if his genius had any special bias, it lay in discovering those
things that made men wiser and happier. As truth was the sole object of
his researches, he was, of course, no sectary: and as reason was his
guide, he embraced no system which that did not authorize. In short, he
laid the whole volume of nature open before him, and diligently and
faithfully perused it.

"Nor were his political attainments less conspicuous than his
philosophical. The ancients usually ranked good fortune among those
circumstances of life which indicate merit. In this view Dr. Franklin is
almost unrivalled, having seldom undertaken more than he accomplished.
The world are too well acquainted with the events of his political
career to require, at this time, a particular enumeration of them. It
may be presumed the historians of the American revolution will exhibit
them in proper colours.

"If Dr. Franklin did not aspire after the splendour of eloquence, it was
only because the demonstrative plainness of his manner was superior to
it. Though he neither loved political debate nor excelled in it, he
still preserved much influence in public assemblies, and discovered an
aptitude in his remarks on all occasions. He was not fond of taking a
leading part in such investigations as could never terminate in any
degree of certainty. To come forward in questions which, in their
nature, are indefinite, and in their issue problematical, does not
comport with the caution of a man who has taught himself to look, for
demonstration. He reserved his observations for those cases which
science could enlighten and common sense approve. The simplicity of his
style was well adapted to the clearness of his understanding. His
conceptions were so bright and perfect, that he did not choose to
involve them in a cloud of expressions. If he used metaphors, it was to
illustrate, and not to embellish the truth. A man possessing such a
lively imagery of ideas should never affect the arts of a vain
rhetorician, whose excellence consists only in a beautiful arrangement
of words.

"But whatever claims to eminence Dr. Franklin may have as a politician
or a scholar, there is no point of light in which his character shines
with more lustre than when we view him as a man or a citizen. He was
eminently great in common things. Perhaps no man ever existed whose life
can, with more justice, be denominated useful. Nothing ever passed
through his hands without receiving improvement, and no person ever went
into his company without gaining wisdom. His sagacity was so sharp and
his science so various, that, whatever might be the profession or
occupation of those with whom he conversed, he could meet every one upon
his own ground. He could enliven every conversation with an anecdote,
and conclude it with a moral.

"The whole tenour of his life was a perpetual lecture against the idle,
the extravagant, and the proud. It was his principal aim to inspire
mankind with a love of industry, temperance, and frugality, and to
inculcate such duties as promote the important interests of humanity. He
never wasted a moment of time, or lavished a farthing of money in folly
or dissipation. Such expenses as the dignity of his station required he
readily sustained, limiting them by the strictest rules of propriety.
Many public institutions experienced his well-timed liberality, and he
manifested a sensibility of heart by numerous acts of private charity.

"By a judicious division of time, Dr. Franklin acquired the art of doing
everything to advantage, and his amusements were of such a nature as
could never militate with the main objects of his pursuit. In whatever
situation he was placed by chance or design, he extracted something
useful for himself or others. His life was remarkably full of incident.
Every circumstance of it turned to some valuable account. The maxims
which his discerning mind has formed apply to innumerable cases and
characters. Those who move in the lowest, equally with those who move in
the most elevated rank in society, may be guided by his instructions. In
the private deportment of his life, he in many respects has furnished a
most excellent model. His manners were easy and accommodating, and his
address winning and respectful. All who knew him speak of him as a most
agreeable man, and all who have heard of him applaud him as a very
useful one. A man so wise and so amiable could not but have many
admirers and many friends."

* * * * *

The following are extracts from the will and codicil of Dr. Franklin:

* * * * *

"With regard to my books, those I had in France and those I left in
Philadelphia being now assembled together here, and a catalogue made of
them, it is my intention to dispose of the same as follows: My 'History
of the Academy of Sciences,' in sixty or seventy volumes quarto, I give
to the Philosophical Society of Philadelphia, of which I have the honour
to be president. My collection in folio, of 'Les Arts et les Metiers'
[Arts and Trade], I give to the American Philosophical Society,
established in New-England, of which I am a member. My quarto edition
of the same, 'Arts et Metiers', I give to the Library Company of
Philadelphia. Such and so many of my books as I shall mark on the said
catalogue with the name of my grandson Benjamin Franklin Bache, I do
hereby give to him: and such and so many of my books as I shall mark on
the said catalogue with the name of my grandson William Bache, I do
hereby give to him: and such as shall be marked with the name of
Jonathan Williams, I hereby give to my cousin of that name. The residue
and remainder of all my books, manuscripts, and papers, I do give to my
grandson William Temple Franklin. My share in the Library Company of
Philadelphia I give to my grandson Benjamin Franklin Bache, confiding
that he will permit his brothers and sisters to share in the use of it.

"I was born in Boston, New-England, and owe my first instructions in
literature to the free grammar-schools established there. I therefore
give one hundred pounds sterling to my executors, to be by them, the
survivers or surviver of them, paid over to the managers or directors of
the freeschools in my native town of Boston, to be by them, or those
persons or person who shall have the superintendance and management of
the said schools, put out to interest, and so continued at interest for
ever; which interest annually shall be laid out in silver medals, and
given as honorary rewards annually by the directors of the said
freeschools, for the encouragement of scholarship in the said schools,
belonging to the said town, in such manner as to the discretion of the
selectmen of the said town shall seem meet. Out of the salary that may
remain due to me as president of the state, I do give the sum of two
thousand pounds to my executors, to be by them, the survivers or
surviver of them, paid over to such person or persons as the legislature
of this state, by an act of Assembly, shall appoint to receive the
same, in trust, to be employed for making the Schuylkill navigable.

* * * * *

"During the number of years I was in business as a stationer, printer,
and postmaster, a great many small sums became due to me, for books,
advertisements, postage of letters, and other matters, which were not
collected, when, in 1757, I was sent by the Assembly to England as their
agent, and by subsequent appointments continued there till 1775; when,
on my return, I was immediately engaged in the affairs of Congress, and
sent to France in 1776, where I remained nine years, not returning till
1785; and the said debts not being demanded in such a length of time,
have become in a manner obsolete, yet are nevertheless justly due.
These, as they are stated in my great folio leger E, I bequeath to the
contributors of the Pennsylvania Hospital, hoping that those debtors,
and the descendants of such as are deceased, who now, as I find, make
some difficulty of satisfying such antiquated demands as just debts,
may, however, be induced to pay or give them as charity to that
excellent institution. I am sensible that much must inevitably be lost,
but I hope something considerable may be received. It is possible, too,
that some of the parties charged may have existing old unsettled
accounts against me: in which case the managers of the said hospital
will allow and deduct the amount, or pay the balances, if they find it
against me.

* * * * *

"I request my friends, Henry Hill, Esq., John Jay, Esq., Francis
Hopkinson, Esq., and Mr. Edward Duffield, of Benfield, in Philadelphia
county, to be the executors of this my last will and testament, and I
hereby nominate and appoint them for that purpose.

"I would have my body buried with as little expense or ceremony as may
be.

* * * * *

"Philadelphia, July 17, 1788."

CODICIL.

"I, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, in the foregoing or annexed last will and
testament named, having farther considered the same, do think proper to
make and publish the following codicil or addition thereto:

"It having long been a fixed political opinion of mine, that in a
democratical state there ought to be no offices of profit, for the
reasons I had given in an article of my drawing in our constitution, it
was my intention, when I accepted the office of president, to devote the
appointed salary to some public uses: accordingly, I had, before I made
my will in July last, given large sums of it to colleges, schools,
building of churches, &c.; and in that will I bequeathed two thousand
pounds more to the state, for the purpose of making the Schuylkill
navigable; but understanding since that such a sum will do but little
towards accomplishing such a work, and that the project is not likely to
be undertaken for many years to come; and having entertained another
idea, that I hope may be more extensively useful, I do hereby revoke and
annul that bequest, and direct that the certificates I have for what
remains due to me of that salary be sold towards raising the sum of two
thousand pounds sterling, to be disposed of as I am now about to order.

"It has been an opinion, that he who receives an estate from his
ancestors is under some kind of obligation to transmit the same to his
posterity. This obligation does not lie on me, who never inherited a
shilling from any ancestor or relation. I shall, however, if it is not
diminished by some accident before my death, leave a considerable estate
among my descendants and relations. The above observation is made merely
as some apology to my family for my making bequests that do not appear
to have any immediate relation to their advantage.

"I was born in Boston, New-England, and owe my first instructions in
literature to the free grammar-schools established there. I have,
therefore, already considered those schools in my will. But I am also
under obligations to the state of Massachusetts for having, unasked,
appointed me formerly their agent in England, with a handsome salary,
which continued some years; and although I accidentally lost in their
service, by transmitting Governor Hutchinson's letters, much more than
the amount of what they gave me, I do not think that ought in the least
to diminish my gratitude. I have considered that among artisans, good
apprentices are most likely to make good citizens; and having myself
been bred to a manual art, printing, in my native town, and afterward
assisted to set up my business in Philadelphia by kind loans of money
from two friends there, which was the foundation of my fortune, and of
all the utility in life that may be ascribed to me, I wish to be useful,
even after my death, if possible, in forming and advancing other young
men, that may be serviceable to their country in both these towns. To
this end I devote two thousand pounds sterling, which I give, one
thousand thereof to the inhabitants of the town of Boston, in
Massachusetts, and the other thousand to the inhabitants of the city of
Philadelphia, in trust, to and for the uses, intents, and purposes
herein after mentioned and declared. The said sum of one thousand pounds
sterling, if accepted by the inhabitants of the town of Boston, shall be
managed under the direction of the selectmen, united with the ministers
of the oldest Episcopalian, Congregational, and Presbyterian churches in
that town, who are to let out the same upon interest at five per cent.
per annum, to such young married artificers, under the age of
twenty-five years, as have served an apprenticeship in the said town,
and faithfully fulfilled the duties required in their indentures, so as
to obtain a good moral character from at least two respectable citizens,
who are willing to become their sureties in a bond, with the applicants,
for the repayment of the money so lent, with interest, according to the
terms hereinafter prescribed; all which bonds are to be taken for
Spanish milled dollars, or the value thereof in current gold coin: and
the managers shall keep a bound book or books, wherein shall be entered
the names of those who shall apply for and receive the benefit of this
institution, and of their sureties, together with the sums lent, the
dates, and other necessary and proper records respecting the business
and concerns of this institution: and as these loans are intended to
assist young married artificers in setting up their business, they are
to be proportioned by the discretion of the managers, so as not to
exceed sixty pounds sterling to one person, nor to be less than fifteen
pounds. And if the number of appliers so entitled should be so large as
that the sum will not suffice to afford to each as much as might
otherwise not be improper, the proportion to each shall be diminished,
so as to afford every one some assistance. These aids may, therefore, be
small at first; but as the capital increases by the accumulated
interest, they will be more ample. And in order to serve as many as
possible in their turn, as well as to make the repayment of the
principal borrowed more easy, each borrower shall be obliged to pay,
with the yearly interest, one tenth part of the principal; which sums of
principal and interest so paid in shall be again let out to fresh
borrowers. And as it is presumed that there will always be found in
Boston virtuous and benevolent citizens willing to bestow a part of
their time in doing good to the rising generation, by superintending and
managing this institution gratis, it is hoped that no part of the money
will at any time be dead or diverted to other purposes, but be
continually augmenting by the interest, in which case there may, in
time, be more than the occasion in Boston shall require: and then some
may be spared to the neighbouring or other towns in the said state of
Massachusetts, which may desire to have it, such towns engaging to pay
punctually the interest, and the proportions of the principal annually
to the inhabitants of the town of Boston. If this plan is executed, and
succeeds, as is projected, without interruption for one hundred years,
the sum will then be one hundred and thirty-one thousand pounds, of
which I would have the managers of the donation to the town of Boston
then lay out, at their discretion, one hundred thousand pounds in public
works, which may be judged of most general utility to the inhabitants,
such as fortifications, bridges, aqueducts, public buildings, baths,
pavements, or whatever may make living in the town more convenient to
its people, and render it more agreeable to strangers resorting thither
for health or a temporary residence. The remaining thirty-one thousand
pounds I would have continued to be let out on interest, in the manner
above directed, for another hundred years; as I hope it will have been
found that the institution has had a good effect on the conduct of
youth, and been of service to many worthy characters and useful
citizens. At the end of this second term, if no unfortunate accident has
prevented the operation, the sum will be four millions and sixty-one
thousand pounds sterling, of which I leave one million and sixty-one
thousand pounds to the disposition and management of the inhabitants of
the town of Boston, and three millions to the disposition of the
government of the state, not presuming to carry my views farther.

"All the directions herein given respecting the disposition and
management of the donation to the inhabitants of Boston, I would have
observed respecting that to the inhabitants of Philadelphia; only, as
Philadelphia is incorporated, I request the corporation of that city to
undertake the management agreeably to the said directions, and I do
hereby vest them with full and ample powers for that purpose. And having
considered that the covering its ground-plat with buildings and
pavements, which carry off most of the rain, and prevent its soaking
into the earth, and renewing and purifying the springs, whence the water
of the wells must gradually grow worse, and, in time, be unfit for use,
as I find has happened in all old cities, I recommend that, at the end
of the first hundred years, if not done before, the corporation of the
city employ a part of the hundred thousand pounds in bringing by pipes
the water of Wissahiccon Creek into the town, so as to supply the
inhabitants, which I apprehend may be done without great difficulty, the
level of that creek being much above that of the city, and may be made
higher by a dam. I also recommend making the Schuylkill completely
navigable. At the end of the second hundred years, I would have the
disposition of the four millions and sixty-one thousand pounds divided
between the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia and the government
of Pennsylvania, in the same manner as herein directed with respect to
that of the inhabitants of Boston and the government of Massachusetts.
It is my desire that this institution should take place and begin to
operate within one year after my decease; for which purpose due notice
should be publicly given previous to the expiration of that year, that
those for whose benefit this establishment is intended may make their
respective applications; and I hereby direct my executor, the survivers
or surviver of them, within six months after my decease, to pay over the
said sum of two thousand pounds sterling to such persons as shall be
duly appointed by the selectmen of Boston and the corporation of
Philadelphia to receive and take charge of their respective sums of one
thousand pounds each for the purposes aforesaid. Considering the
accidents to which all human affairs and projects are subject in such a
length of time, I have, perhaps, too much flattered myself with a vain
fancy that these dispositions, if carried into execution, will be
continued without interruption, and have the effects proposed; I hope,
however, that if the inhabitants of the two cities should not think fit
to undertake the execution, they will at least accept the offer of these
donations as a mark of my good-will, a token of my gratitude, and a
testimony of my earnest desire to be useful to them even after my
departure. I wish, indeed, that they may both undertake to endeavour the
execution of the project, because I think that, though unforeseen
difficulties may arise, expedients will be found to remove them, and the
scheme be found practicable. If one of them accepts the money with the
conditions and the other refuses, my will then is that both sums be
given to the inhabitants of the city accepting, the whole to be applied
to the same purpose and under the same regulations directed for the
separate parts; and if both refuse, the money remains, of course, in the
mass of my estate, and it is to be disposed of therewith, according to
my will made the seventeenth day of July, 1788. I wish to be buried by
the side of my wife, if it may be, and that a marble stone, to be made
by Chambers, six feet long, four feet wide, plain, with only a small
moulding round the upper edge, and this inscription,

Benjamin}
and } Franklin,
Deborah }
178-, be placed over us both.

"My fine crabtree walking-stick, with a gold head, curiously wrought in
the form of the Cap of Liberty, I give to my friend and the friend of
mankind, General Washington. If it were a sceptre, he has merited it,
and would become it. It was a present to me from that excellent woman
Madame de Forbach, the Dowager Duchess of Deux Ponts, connected with
some verses which should go with it.

* * * * *

"Philadelphia, 23d June, 1789."

The following epitaph was written by Dr. Franklin for himself when he
was only _twenty-three years of age_, as appears by the original (with
various corrections), found among his papers, and from which this is a
faithful copy:

[_Epitaph, written 1728._]

"THE BODY

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,

PRINTER,

(like the cover of an old book,
its contents torn out,
and stripped of its lettering and gilding),
lies here food for worms;
yet the work itself shall not be lost,
for it will (as he believed) appear once more
in a new and more elegant edition,
revised and corrected
by

THE AUTHOR."

FOOTNOTES:

[15] Dr. Stuber was born in Philadelphia, of German parents. He was sent
at an early age to the university, where his genius, diligence, and
amiable temper soon acquired him the particular notice and favour of
those under whose immediate direction he was placed. After passing
through the common course of study in a much shorter time than usual, he
left the university at the age of sixteen, with great reputation. Not
long after, he entered on the study of physic; and the zeal with which
he pursued it, and the advances he made, gave his friends reason to form
the most flattering prospects of his future eminence and usefulness in
the profession. As Dr. Stuber's circumstances were very moderate, he did
not think this pursuit well calculated to answer them. He therefore
relinquished it after he had obtained a degree in the profession, and
qualified himself to practice with credit and success, and immediately
entered on the study of the law. While in the pursuit of the
last-mentioned object, he was prevented, by a premature death, from
reaping the fruit of those talents with which he was endowed, and of a
youth spent in the ardent and successful pursuit of useful and elegant
literature.

[16] Three days previous to his decease, he desired his daughter, Mrs.
Sarah Bache, to have his bed made, "_in order that he might die in a
decent manner_," as was his expression: an idea probably suggested by an
acquaintance with the custom of the ancients. Mrs. Bache having replied
that she hoped he would recover, and live many years longer, he
instantly rejoined, "_I hope not_."

[17] The Congress of the United States thus expressed their sentiments
in return.

RESOLVED, _by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United
States of America, in Congress assembled_, That the President of
the United States be requested to cause to be communicated to the
National Assembly of France, the peculiar sensibility of Congress
to the tribute paid to the memory of Benjamin Franklin by the
enlightened and free representatives of a great nation, in their
decree of the eleventh June, one thousand seven hundred and ninety.

Signed,
FRED. AUG. MUHLENBERG,
_Speaker of the House of Representatives_.
JOHN ADAMS,
_Vice-President of the United States
and President of the Senate_.

Approved, March the 2d, 1791.

Signed,
GEORGE WASHINGTON,
_President of the United States_.

WRITINGS OF FRANKLIN.

_The Examination of Dr. Franklin before the British House of Commons,
relative to the Repeal of the American Stamp-act._[18]

1766, Feb. 3. Benjamin Franklin, Esq., and a number of other persons,
were "ordered to attend the committee of the whole House of Commons, to
whom it was referred to consider farther the several papers relative to
America, which were presented to the House by Mr. Secretary Conway,
&c."

_Q._ What is your name and place of abode?

_A._ Franklin, of Philadelphia.

_Q._ Do the Americans pay any considerable taxes among themselves?

_A._ Certainly, many, and very heavy taxes.

_Q._ What are the present taxes in Pennsylvania, laid by the laws of the
colony?

_A._ There are taxes on all estates, real and personal; a poll tax; a
tax on all offices, professions, trades, and businesses, according to
their profits; an excise on all wine, rum, and other spirits; and a duty
of ten pounds per head on all negroes imported, with some other duties.

_Q._ For what purposes are those taxes laid?

_A._ For the support of the civil and military establishments of the
country, and to discharge the heavy debt contracted in the last war.

_Q._ How long are those taxes to continue?

_A._ Those for discharging the debt are to continue till 1772, and
longer if the debt should not be then all discharged. The others must
always continue.

_Q._ Was it not expected that the debt would have been sooner
discharged?

_A._ It was, when the peace was made with France and Spain. But a fresh
war breaking out with the Indians, a fresh load of debt was incurred;
and the taxes, of course, continued longer by a new law.

_Q._ Are not all the people very able to pay those taxes?

_A._ No. The frontier counties all along the continent having been
frequently ravaged by the enemy, and greatly impoverished, are able to
pay very little tax. And therefore, in consideration of their
distresses, our late tax laws do expressly favour those counties,
excusing the sufferers; and I suppose the same is done in other
governments.

_Q._ Are not you concerned in the management of the _postoffice_ in
America?

_A._ Yes. I am deputy postmaster-general of North America.

_Q._ Don't you think the distribution of stamps _by post_ to all the
inhabitants very practicable, if there was no opposition?

_A._ The posts only go along the seacoasts; they do not, except in a few
instances, go back into the country; and if they did, sending for stamps
by post would occasion an expense of postage, amounting, in many cases,
to much more than that of the stamps themselves. * * * *

_Q._ From the thinness of the back settlements, would not the stamp-act
be extremely inconvenient to the inhabitants, if executed?

_A._ To be sure it would; as many of the inhabitants could not get
stamps when they had occasion for them, without taking long journeys,
and spending perhaps three or four pounds, that the crown might get
sixpence.

_Q._ Are not the colonies, from their circumstances, very able to pay
the stamp duty?

_A._ In my opinion there is not gold and silver enough in the colonies
to pay the stamp duty for one year.

_Q._ Don't you know that the money arising from the stamps was all to be
laid out in America?

_A._ I know it is appropriated by the act to the American service; but
it will be spent in the conquered colonies, where the soldiers are; not
in the colonies that pay it.

_Q._ Is there not a balance of trade due from the colonies where the
troops are posted, that will bring back the money to the old colonies?

_A._ I think not. I believe very little would come back. I know of no
trade likely to bring it back. I think it would come from the colonies
where it was spent directly to England; for I have always observed, that
in every colony, the more plenty the means of remittance to England, the
more goods are sent for and the more trade with England carried on.

_Q._ What number of white inhabitants do you think there are in
Pennsylvania?

_A._ I suppose there may be about one hundred and sixty thousand?

_Q._ What number of them are Quakers?

_A._ Perhaps a third.

_Q._ What number of Germans?

_A._ Perhaps another third; but I cannot speak with certainty.

_Q._ Have any number of the Germans seen service as soldiers in Europe?

_A._ Yes, many of them, both in Europe and America.

_Q._ Are they as much dissatisfied with the stamp duty as the English?

_A._ Yes, and more; and with reason, as their stamps are, in many cases,
to be double.

_Q._ How many white men do you suppose there are in North America?

_A._ About three hundred thousand, from sixteen to sixty years of age?

_Q._ What may be the amount of one year's imports into Pennsylvania from
Britain?

_A._ I have been informed that our merchants compute the imports from
Britain to be above £500,000.

_Q._ What may be the amount of the produce of your province exported to
Britain?

_A._ It must be small, as we produce little that is wanted in Britain. I
suppose it cannot exceed £40,000.

_Q._ How, then, do you pay the balance?

_A._ The balance is paid by our produce carried to the West Indies (and
sold in our own islands, or to the French, Spaniards, Danes, and Dutch);
by the same produce carried to other colonies in North America (as to
New-England, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Carolina, and Georgia); by the
same, carried to different parts of Europe (as Spain, Portugal, and
Italy). In all which places we receive either money, bills of exchange,
or commodities that suit for remittance to Britain; which, together with
all the profits on the industry of our merchants and mariners, arising
in those circuitous voyages, and the freights made by their ships,
centre finally to Britain to discharge the balance, and pay for British
manufactures continually used in the provinces, or sold to foreigners by
our traders.

_Q._ Have you heard of any difficulties lately laid on the Spanish
trade?

_A._ Yes, I have heard that it has been greatly obstructed by some new
regulations, and by the English men-of-war and cutters stationed all
along the coast in America.

_Q._ Do you think it right that America should be protected by this
country, and pay no part of the expense?

_A._ That is not the case. The colonies raised, clothed, and paid,
during the last war, near twenty-five thousand men, and spent many
millions.

_Q._ Were you not reimbursed by Parliament?

_A._ We were only reimbursed what, in your opinion, we had advanced
beyond our proportion, or beyond what might reasonably be expected from
us; and it was a very small part of what we spent. Pennsylvania, in
particular, disbursed about £500,000; and the reimbursements, in the
whole, did not exceed £60,000.

_Q._ You have said that you pay heavy taxes in Pennsylvania; what do
they amount to in the pound?

_A._ The tax on all estates, real and personal, is eighteen pence in
the pound, fully rated; and the tax on the profits of trades and
professions, with other taxes, do, I suppose, make full half a crown in
the pound.

_Q._ Do you know anything of the _rate of exchange_ in Pennsylvania, and
whether it has fallen lately?

_A._ It is commonly from one hundred and seventy to one hundred and
seventy-five. I have heard that it has fallen lately from one hundred
and seventy-five to one hundred and sixty-two and a half, owing, I
suppose, to their lessening their orders for goods; and when their debts
to this country are paid, I think the exchange will probably be at par.

_Q._ Do not you 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 towards Great Britain _before the
year_ 1763?

_A._ The best in the world. They submitted willingly to the government
of the crown, and paid in their courts obedience to 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._ Did you ever hear the authority of Parliament to make laws for
America questioned till lately?

_A._ The authority of Parliament was allowed to be valid in all laws,
except such as should lay internal taxes. It was never disputed in
laying duties to regulate commerce.

_Q._ In what proportion had population increased in America?

_A._ I think the inhabitants of all the provinces together, taken at a
medium, double in about twenty-five years. But their demand for British
manufactures increases much faster; as the consumption is not merely in
proportion to their numbers, but grows with the growing abilities of the
same numbers to pay for them. In 1723, the whole importation from
Britain to Pennsylvania was but about £15,000 sterling; it is now near
half a million.

_Q._ In what light did the people of America use to consider the
Parliament of Great Britain?

_A._ They considered the Parliament as the great bulwark and security of
their liberties and privileges, and always spoke of it with the utmost
respect and veneration. Arbitrary ministers, they thought, might
possibly, at times, attempt to oppress them; but they relied on it that
the Parliament, on application, would always give redress. They
remembered, with gratitude, a strong instance of this, when a bill was
brought into Parliament, with a clause to make royal instructions laws
in the colonies, which the House of Commons would not pass, and it was
thrown out.

_Q._ And have they not still the same respect for Parliament?

_A._ No, it is greatly lessened.

_Q._ To what cause is that owing?

_A._ To a concurrence of causes; the restraints lately laid on their
trade, by which the bringing of foreign gold and silver into the
colonies was prevented; the prohibition of making paper money among
themselves,[19] and then demanding a new and heavy tax by stamps,
taking away, at the same time, trials by juries, and refusing to receive
and hear their humble petitions.

_Q._ Don't you think they would submit to the stamp-act if it was
modified, the obnoxious parts taken out, and the duty reduced to some
particulars of small moment?

_A._ No, they will never submit to it.

_Q._ What do you think is the reason that the people in America increase
faster than in England?

_A._ Because they marry younger and more generally.

_Q._ Why so?

_A._ Because any young couple that are industrious may easily obtain
land of their own, on which they can raise a family.

_Q._ Are not the lower rank of people more at their ease in America than
in England?

_A._ They may be so if they are sober and diligent, as they are better
paid for their labour.

_Q._ What is your opinion of a future tax, imposed on the same principle
with that of the stamp-act? How would the Americans receive it?

_A._ Just as they do this. They would not pay it.

_Q._ Have you not heard of the resolutions of this house and of the
House of Lords, asserting the right of Parliament relating to America,
including a power to tax the people there?

_A._ Yes, I have heard of such resolutions.

_Q._ What will be the opinion of the Americans on those resolutions?

_A._ They will think them unconstitutional and unjust.

_Q._ Was it an opinion in America before 1763, that the Parliament had
no right to lay taxes and duties there?

_A._ I never heard any objection to the right of laying duties to
regulate commerce, but a right to lay internal taxes was never supposed
to be in Parliament, as we are not represented there.

_Q._ On what do you found your opinion, that the people in America made
any such distinction?

_A._ I know that whenever the subject has occurred in conversation where
I have been present, it has appeared to be the opinion of every one,
that we could not be taxed by a Parliament wherein we were not
represented. But the payment of duties laid by an act of Parliament as
regulations of commerce was never disputed.

_Q._ But can you name any act of Assembly, or public act of any of your
governments, that made such distinction?

_A._ I do not know that there was any; I think there was never an
occasion to make any such act, till now that you have attempted to tax
us: _that_ has occasioned resolutions of Assembly declaring the
distinction, in which I think every Assembly on the continent, and every
member in every Assembly, have been unanimous. * * * *

_Q._ You say the colonies have always submitted to external taxes, and
object to the right of Parliament only, in laying internal taxes; now,
can you show that there is any kind of _difference between the two
taxes_ to the colony on which they may be laid?

_A._ I think the difference is very great. An _external_ tax is a duty
laid on commodities imported; that duty is added to the first cost and
other charges on the commodity, and, when it is offered for sale, makes
a part of the price. If the people do not like it at that price, they
refuse it; they are not obliged to pay it. But an _internal_ tax is
forced from the people without their consent, if not laid by their own
representatives. The stamp-act says we shall have no commerce, make no
exchange of property with each other, neither purchase nor grant, nor
recover debts; we shall neither marry nor make our wills, unless we pay
such and such sums; and thus it is intended to extort our money from
us, or ruin us by the consequences of refusing to pay it.

_Q._ But supposing the external tax or duty to be laid on the
necessaries of life imported into your colony, will not that be the same
thing in its effects as an internal tax?

_A._ I do not know a single article imported into the _northern_
colonies but what they can either do without or make themselves.

_Q._ Don't you think cloth from England absolutely necessary to them?

_A._ No, by no means absolutely necessary; with industry and good
management, they may well supply themselves with all they want.

_Q._ Will it not take a long time to establish that manufacture among
them; and must they not, in the mean while, suffer greatly?

_A._ I think not. They have made a surprising progress already; and I am
of opinion that, before their old clothes are worn out, they will have
new ones of their own making.

_Q._ Can they possibly find wool enough in North America?

_A._ They have taken steps to increase the wool. They entered into
general combinations to eat no more lamb; and very few lambs were killed
last year. This course, persisted in, will soon make a prodigious
difference in the quantity of wool. And the establishing of great
manufactories, like those in the clothing towns here, is not necessary,
as it is where the business is to be carried on for the purposes of
trade. The people will all spin and work for themselves, in their own
houses.

_Q._ Can there be wool and manufacture enough in one or two years?

_A._ In three years I think there may.

_Q._ Does not the severity of the winter in the northern colonies
occasion the wool to be of bad quality?

_A._ No, the wool is very fine and good. * * * *

_Q._ Considering the resolution of Parliament[20] _as to the right_, do
you think, if the stamp-act is repealed, that the North Americans will
be satisfied?

_A._ I believe they will.

_Q._ Why do you think so?

A. I think the resolutions of _right_ will give them very little concern
if they are never attempted to be carried into practice. The colonies
will probably consider themselves in the same situation in that respect
with Ireland: they know you claim the same right with regard to Ireland,
but you never exercise it. And they may believe you never will exercise
it in the colonies any more than in Ireland, unless on some very
extraordinary occasion.

_Q._ But who are to be the judges of that extraordinary occasion? Is not
the Parliament?

_A._ Though the Parliament may judge of the occasion, the people will
think it can never exercise such right till representatives from the
colonies are admitted into Parliament; and that, whenever the occasion
arises, representatives _will_ be ordered. * *

_Q._ Can anything less than a military force carry the stamp-act into
execution?

_A._ I do not see how a military force can be applied to that purpose.

_Q._ Why may it not?

_A._ Suppose a military force sent into America, they will find nobody
in arms; what are they then to do? They cannot force a man to take
stamps who chooses to do without them. They will not find a rebellion:
they may indeed make one.

_Q._ If the act is not repealed, what do you think will be the
consequence?

_A._ A total loss of the respect and affection the people of America
bear to this country, and of all the commerce that depends on that
respect and affection.

_Q._ How can the commerce be affected?

_A._ You will find that, if the act is not repealed, they will take very
little of your manufactures in a short time.

_Q._ Is it in their power to do without them?

_A._ I think they may very well do without them.

_Q._ Is it their interest not to take them?

_A._ The goods they take from Britain are either necessaries, mere
conveniences, or superfluities. The first, as cloth, &c., with a little
industry they can make at home; the second they can do without till they
are able to provide them among themselves; and the last, which are much
the greatest part, they will strike off immediately. They are mere
articles of fashion, purchased and consumed because the fashion in a
respected country; but will now be detested and rejected. The people
have already struck-off, by general agreement, the use of all goods
fashionable in mournings, and many thousand pounds worth are sent back
as unsaleable.

_Q._ Is it their interest to make cloth at home?

_A._ I think they may at present get it cheaper from Britain, I mean of
the same fineness and neatness of workmanship; but when one considers
other circumstances, the restraints on their trade, and the difficulty
of making remittances, it is their interest to make everything.

_Q._ Suppose an act of internal regulations connected with a tax, how
would they receive it?

_A._ I think it would be objected to.

_Q._ Then no regulation with a tax would be submitted to?

_A._ Their opinion is, that when aids to the crown are wanted, they are
to be asked of the several assemblies, according to the old established
usage; who will, as they always have done, grant them freely. And that
their money ought not to be given away without their consent, by persons
at a distance, unacquainted with their circumstances and abilities. The
granting aids to the crown is the only means they have of recommending
themselves to their sovereign; and they think it extremely hard and
unjust that a body of men, in which they have no representatives, should
make a merit to itself of giving and granting what is not their own, but
theirs; and deprive them of a right they esteem of the utmost
importance, as it is the security of all their other rights.

_Q._ But is not the postoffice, which they have long received, a tax as
well as a regulation?

_A._ No; the money paid for the postage of a letter is not of the nature
of a tax; it is merely a _quantum meruit_ for a service done: no person
is compellable to pay the money if he does not choose to receive the
service. A man may still, as before the act, send his letter by a
servant, a special messenger, or a friend, if he thinks it cheaper and
safer.

_Q._ But do they not consider the regulations of the postoffice, by the
act of last year, as a tax?

_A._ By the regulations of last year, the rate of postage was generally
abated near thirty per cent. through all America; they certainly cannot
consider such abatement _as a tax_.

_Q._ If an excise was laid by Parliament, which they might likewise
avoid paying by not consuming the articles excised, would they then not
object to it?

_A._ They would certainly object to it, as an excise is unconnected with
any service done, and is merely an aid, which they think ought to be
asked of them and granted by them, if they are to pay it, and can be
granted for them by no others whatsoever, whom they have not empowered
for that purpose.

_Q._ You say they do not object to the right of Parliament in laying
duties on goods to be paid on their importation: now, is there any kind
of difference between a duty on the _importation_ of goods and an
excise on their _consumption_?

_A._ Yes, a very material one: an excise, for the reasons I have just
mentioned, they think you can have no right to lay within their country.
But the _sea_ is yours: you maintain, by your fleets, the safety of
navigation in it, and keep it clear of pirates: you may have, therefore,
a natural and equitable right to some _toll_ or duty on merchandises
carried through that part of your dominions, towards defraying the
expense you are at in ships to maintain the safety of that carriage.

_Q._ Does this reasoning hold in the case of a duty laid on the produce
of their lands _exported_? And would they not then object to such a
duty?

_A._ If it tended to make the produce so much dearer abroad as to lessen
the demand for it, to be sure they would object to such a duty: not to
your right of laying it, but they would complain of it as a burden, and
petition you to lighten it. * * *

_Q._ Supposing the stamp-act continued and enforced, do you imagine that
ill-humour will induce the Americans to give as much for worse
manufactures of their own, and use them preferable to better of ours?

_A._ Yes, I think so. People will pay as freely to gratify one passion
as another, their resentment as their pride.

_Q._ Would the people at Boston discontinue their trade?

_A._ The merchants are a very small number compared with the body of the
people, and must discontinue their trade if nobody will buy their goods.

_Q._ What are the body of the people in the colonies?

_A._ They are farmers, husbandmen, or planters.

_Q._ Would they suffer the produce of their lands to rot?

_A._ No; but they would not raise so much. They would manufacture more
and plough less.

_Q._ Would they live without the administration of justice in civil
matters, and suffer all the inconveniences of such a situation for any
considerable time, rather than take the stamps, supposing the stamps
were protected by a sufficient force, where every one might have them?

_A._ I think the supposition impracticable, that the stamps should be so
protected as that every one might have them. The act requires
sub-distributors to be appointed in every county town, district, and
village, and they would be necessary. But the _principal_ distributors,
who were to have had a considerable profit on the whole, have not
thought it worth while to continue in the office; and I think it
impossible to find sub-distributors fit to be trusted, who, for the
trifling profit that must come to their share, would incur the odium and
run the hazard that would attend it; and if they could be found, I think
it impracticable to protect the stamps in so many distant and remote
places.

_Q._ But in places where they could be protected, would not the people
use them rather than remain in such a situation, unable to obtain any
right, or recover by law any debt?

_A._ It is hard to say what they would do. I can only judge what other
people will think and how they will act by what I feel within myself. I
have a great many debts due to me in America, and I had rather they
should remain unrecoverable by any law, than submit to the stamp-act.
They will be debts of honour. It is my opinion, the people will either
continue in that situation, or find some way to extricate themselves,
perhaps by generally agreeing to proceed in the courts without stamps.

_Q._ What do you think a sufficient military force to protect the
distribution of the stamps in every part of America?

_A._ A very great force, I can't say what, if the disposition of America
is for a general resistance.

_Q._ What is the number of men in America able to bear arms, or of
disciplined militia?

_A._ There are I suppose, at least....

[_Question objected to. He withdrew. Called in again._]

_Q._ Is the American stamp-act an equal tax on the country?

_A._ I think not.

_Q._ Why so?

_A._ The greatest part of the money must arise from lawsuits for the
recovery of debts, and be paid by the lower sort of people, who were too
poor easily to pay their debts. It is, therefore, a heavy tax on the
poor, and a tax upon them for being poor.

_Q._ But will not this increase of expense be a means Of lessening the
number of lawsuits?

_A._ I think not; for as the costs all fall upon the debtor, and are to
be paid by him, they would be no discouragement to the creditor to bring
his action.

_Q._ Would it not have the effect of excessive usury?

_A._ Yes; as an oppression of the debtor. * * * *

_Q._ Are there any _slitting-mills_ in America?

_A._ I think there are three, but I believe only one at present
employed. I suppose they will all be set to work if the interruption of
the trade continues.

_Q._ Are there any _fulling-mills_ there?

_A._ A great many.

_Q._ Did you never hear that a great quantity of _stockings_ were
contracted for, for the army, during the war, and manufactured in
Philadelphia?

_A._ I have heard so.

_Q._ If the stamp-act should be repealed, would not the Americans think
they could oblige the Parliament to repeal every external tax-law now in
force?

_A._ It is hard to answer questions of what people at such a distance
will think.

_Q._ But what do you imagine they will think were the motives of
repealing the act?

_A._ I suppose they will think that it was repealed from a conviction of
its inexpediency; and they will rely upon it, that, while the same
inexpediency subsists, you will never attempt to make such another.

_Q._ What do you mean by its inexpediency?

_A._ I mean its inexpediency on several accounts: the poverty and
inability of those who were to pay the tax, the general discontent it
has occasioned, and the impracticability of enforcing it.

_Q._ If the act should be repealed, and the Legislature should show its
resentment to the opposers of the stamp-act, would the colonies
acquiesce in the authority of the Legislature? What is your opinion they
would do?

_A._ I don't doubt at all that, if the Legislature repeal the stamp-act,
the colonies will acquiesce in the authority.

_Q._ But if the Legislature should think fit to ascertain its right to
lay taxes, by any act laying a small tax contrary to their opinion,
would they submit to pay the tax?

_A._ The proceedings of the people in America have been considered too
much together. The proceedings of the assemblies have been very
different from those of the mobs, and should be distinguished, as having
no connexion with each other. The _assemblies_ have only peaceably
resolved what they take to be their rights: they have taken no measures
for opposition by force; they have not built a fort, raised a man, or
provided a grain of ammunition, in order to such opposition. The
ringleaders of riots, they think, ought to be punished: they would
punish them themselves if they could. Every sober, sensible man would
wish to see rioters punished, as otherwise peaceable people have no
security of person or estate; but as to an internal tax, how small
soever, laid by the Legislature here on the people there, while they
have no representatives in this Legislature, I think it will never be
submitted to: they will oppose it to the last: they do not consider it
as at all necessary for you to raise money on them by your taxes;
because they are, and always have been, ready to raise money by taxes
among themselves, and to grant large sums, equal to their abilities,
upon requisition from the crown. They have not only granted equal to
their abilities, but, during all the last war, they granted far beyond
their abilities, and beyond their proportion with this country (you
yourselves being judges) to the amount of many hundred thousand pounds;
and this they did freely and readily, only on a sort of promise from the
secretary of state that it should be recommended to Parliament to make
them compensation. It was accordingly recommended to Parliament in the
most honourable manner for them. America has been greatly misrepresented
and abused here, in papers, and pamphlets, and speeches, as ungrateful,
and unreasonable, and unjust, in having put this nation to immense
expense for their defence, and refusing to bear any part of that
expense. The colonies raised, paid, and clothed near twenty-five
thousand men during the last war; a number equal to those sent from
Britain, and far beyond their proportion: they went deeply into debt in
doing this, and all their taxes and estates are mortgaged, for many
years to come, for discharging that debt. Government here was at that
time very sensible of this. The colonies were recommended to Parliament.
Every year the king sent down to the house a written message to this
purpose, "That his majesty, being highly sensible of the zeal and vigour
with which his faithful subjects in North America had exerted themselves
in defence of his majesty's just rights and possessions, recommended it
to the house to take the same into consideration, and enable him to
give them a proper compensation." You will find those messages on your
own journals every year of the war to the very last; and you did
accordingly give £200,000 annually to the crown, to be distributed in
such compensation to the colonies. This is the strongest of all proofs
that the colonies, far from being unwilling to bear a share of the
burden, did exceed their proportion; for if they had done less, or had
only equalled their proportion, there would have been no room or reason
for compensation. Indeed, the sums reimbursed them were by no means
adequate to the expense they incurred beyond their proportion: but they
never murmured at that; they esteemed their sovereign's approbation of
their zeal and fidelity, and the approbation of this house, far beyond
any other kind of compensation; therefore there was no occasion for this
act to force money from a willing people: they had not refused giving
money for the _purposes_ of the act, no requisition had been made, they
were always willing and ready to do what could reasonably be expected
from them, and in this light they wish to be considered.

_Q._ But suppose Great Britain should be engaged in a _war in Europe_,
would North America contribute to the support of it?

_A._ I do think they would, as far as their circumstances would permit.
They consider themselves as a part of the British empire, and as having
one common interest with it: they may be looked on here as foreigners,
but they do not consider themselves as such. They are zealous for the
honour and prosperity of this nation; and, while they are well used,
will always be ready to support it, as far as their little power goes.
In 1739 they were called upon to assist in the expedition against
Carthagena, and they sent three thousand men to join your army. It is
true Carthagena is in America, but as remote from the northern colonies
as if it had been in Europe. They make no distinction of wars as to
their duty of assisting in them. I know the _last war_ is commonly
spoken of here as entered into for the defence, or for the sake of the
people in America. I think it is quite misunderstood. It began about the
limits between Canada and Nova Scotia; about territories to which the
_crown_ indeed laid claim, but which were not claimed by any British
_colony_; none of the lands had been granted to any colonist; we had,
therefore, no particular concern or interest in that dispute. As to the
Ohio, the contest there began about your right of trading in the Indian
country; a right you had by the treaty of Utrecht, which the French
infringed; they seized the traders and their goods, which were your
manufactures; they took a fort which a company of your merchants, and
their factors and correspondents, had erected there, to secure that
trade. Braddock was sent with an army to retake that fort (which was
looked on here as another encroachment on the king's territory) and to
protect your trade. It was not till after his defeat that the colonies
were attacked.[21] They were before in perfect peace with both French
and Indians; the troops were not, therefore, sent for their defence. The
trade with the Indians, though carried on in America, is not an
_American interest_. The people of America are chiefly farmers and
planters; scarce anything that they raise or produce is an article of
commerce with the Indians. The Indian trade is a _British interest_; it
is carried on with British manufactures, for the profit of British
merchants and manufacturers; therefore the war, as it commenced for the
defence of territories of the crown (the property of no American) and
for the defence of a trade purely British, was really a British war, and
yet the people of America made no scruple of contributing their utmost
towards carrying it on and bringing it to a happy conclusion.

_Q._ Do you think, then, that the taking possession of the king's
territorial rights, and _strengthening the frontiers_, is not an
American interest?

_A._ Not particularly, but conjointly a British and an American
interest.

_Q._ You will not deny that the preceding war, the _war with Spain_, was
entered into for the sake of America; was it not _occasioned by captures
made in the American seas_?

_A._ Yes; captures of ships carrying on the British trade there with
British manufactures.

_Q._ Was not the _late war with_ the Indians, _since the peace with
France_, a war for America only?

_A._ Yes; it was more particularly for America than the former; but it
was rather a consequence or remains of the former war, the Indians not
having been thoroughly pacified; and the Americans bore by much the
greatest share of the expense. It was put an end to by the army under
General Bouquet; there were not above three hundred regulars in that
army, and above one thousand Pennsylvanians.

_Q._ Is it not necessary to send troops to America, to defend the
Americans against the Indians?

_A._ No, by no means; it never was necessary. They defended themselves
when they were but a handful, and the Indians much more numerous. They
continually gained ground, and have driven the Indians over the
mountains, without any troops sent to their assistance from this
country. And can it be thought necessary now to send troops for their
defence from those diminished Indian tribes, when the colonies are
become so populous and so strong? There is not the least occasion for
it; they are very able to defend themselves. * * *

_Q._ Do you think the assemblies have a right to levy money on the
subject there, to grant _to the crown_?

_A._ I certainly think so; they have always done it.

_Q._ Are they acquainted with the declaration of rights? And do they
know that, by that statute, money is not to be raised on the subject but
by consent of Parliament?

_A._ They are very well acquainted with it.

_Q._ How, then, can they think they have a right to levy money for the
crown, or for any other than local purposes?

_A._ They understand that clause to relate to subjects only within the
realm; that no money can be levied on them for the crown but by consent
of Parliament. _The colonies_ are not supposed to be within the realm;
they have assemblies of their own, which are their parliaments, and they
are, in that respect, in the same situation with Ireland. When money is
to be raised for the crown upon the subject in Ireland or in the
colonies, the consent is given in the Parliament of Ireland or in the
assemblies of the colonies. They think the Parliament of Great Britain
cannot properly give that consent till it has representatives from
America; for the petition of right expressly says, it is to be by
_common consent in Parliament_; and the people of America have no
representatives in Parliament to make a part of that common consent.

_Q._ If the stamp-act should be repealed, and an act should pass
ordering the assemblies of the colonies to indemnify the sufferers by
the riots, would they do it?

_A._ That is a question I cannot answer.

_Q._ Suppose the king should require the colonies to grant a revenue,
and the Parliament should be against their doing it, do they think they
can grant a revenue to the king _without_ the consent of the Parliament
of Great Britain?

_A._ That is a deep question. As to my own opinion, I should think
myself at liberty to do it, and should do it if I liked the occasion.

_Q._ When money has been raised in the colonies upon requisition, has it
not been granted to the king?

_A._ Yes, always; but the requisitions have generally been for some
service expressed, as to raise, clothe, and pay troops, and not for
money only.

_Q._ If the act should pass requiring the American assemblies to make
compensation to the sufferers, and they should disobey it, and then the
Parliament should, by another act, lay an internal tax, would they then
obey it?

_A._ The people will pay no internal tax; and I think an act to oblige
the assemblies to make compensation is unnecessary; for I am of opinion
that, as soon as the present heats are abated, they will take the matter
into consideration, and, if it is right to be done, they will do it
themselves.

_Q._ Do not letters often come into the postoffices in America directed
to some inland town where no post goes?

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Can any private person take up those letters, and carry them as
directed?

_A._ Yes; any friend of the person may do it, paying the postage that
has accrued.

_Q._ But must not he pay an additional postage for the distance to such
inland town?

_A._ No.

_Q._ Can the postmaster answer delivering the letter, without being paid
such additional postage?

_A._ Certainly he can demand nothing where he does no service.

_Q._ Suppose a person, being far from home, finds a letter in a
postoffice directed to him, and he lives in a place to which the post
generally goes, and the letter is directed to that place, will the
postmaster deliver him the letter without his paying the postage
receivable at the place to which the letter is directed?

_A._ Yes; the office cannot demand postage for a letter that it does not
carry, or farther than it does carry it.

_Q._ Are not ferrymen in America obliged, by act of Parliament, to carry
over the posts without pay?

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Is not this a tax on the ferrymen?

_A._ They do not consider it as such, as they have an advantage from
persons travelling with the post.

_Q._ If the stamp-act should be repealed, and the crown should make a
requisition to the colonies for a sum of money, would they grant it?

_A._ I believe they would.

_Q._ Why do you think so?

_A._ I can speak for the colony I live in: I have it in _instruction_
from the Assembly to assure the ministry, that as they always had done,
so they should always think it their duty to grant such aids to the
crown as were suitable to their circumstances and abilities, whenever
called upon for that purpose, in the usual constitutional manner; and I
had the honour of communicating this instruction to that honourable
gentleman then minister.

_Q._ Would they do this for a British concern, as suppose a war in some
part of Europe that did not affect them?

_A._ Yes, for anything that concerned the general interest. They
consider themselves as part of the whole.

_Q._ What is the usual constitutional manner of calling on the colonies
for aids?

_A._ A letter from the secretary of state.

_Q._ Is this all you mean; a letter from the secretary of state?

_A._ I mean the usual way of requisition, in a circular letter from the
secretary of state, by his majesty's command, reciting the occasion, and
recommending it to the colonies to grant such aid as became their
loyalty, and were suitable to their abilities.

_Q._ Did the secretary of state ever write for _money_ for the crown?

_A._ The requisitions have been to raise, clothe, and pay men, which
cannot be done without money.

_Q._ Would they grant money alone, if called on?

_A._ In my opinion they would, money as well as men, when they have
money, or can make it.

_Q._ If the Parliament should repeal the stamp-act, will the Assembly of
Pennsylvania rescind their resolutions?

_A._ I think not.

_Q._ Before there was any thought of the stamp-act, did they wish for a
representation in Parliament?

_A._ No.

_Q._ Don't you know that there is, in the Pennsylvania charter, an
express reservation of the right of Parliament to lay taxes there?

_A._ I know there is a clause in the charter by which the king grants
that he will levy no taxes on the inhabitants, unless it be with the
consent of the Assembly or by act of Parliament.

_Q._ How, then, could the Assembly of Pennsylvania assert, that laying a
tax on them by the stamp-act was an infringement of their rights?

_A._ They understand it thus: by the same charter, and otherwise, they
are entitled to all the privileges and liberties of Englishmen; they
find in the great charters, and the petition and declaration of rights,
that one of the privileges of English subjects is, that they are not to
be taxed but by their _common consent_; they have therefore relied upon
it, from the first settlement of the province, that the Parliament never
would nor could, by colour of that clause in the charter, assume a right
of taxing them, _till_ it had qualified itself to exercise such right,
by admitting representatives from the people to be taxed, who ought to
make a part of that common consent.

_Q._ Are there any words in the charter that justify that construction?

_A._ The common rights of Englishmen, as declared by Magna Charta and
the Petition of Right, all justify it. * * * *

_Q._ Are all parts of the colonies equally able to pay taxes?

_A._ No, certainly; the frontier parts, which have been ravaged by the
enemy, are greatly disabled by that means; and, therefore, in such
cases, are usually favoured in our tax-laws.

_Q._ Can we, at this distance, be competent judges of what favours are
necessary?

_A._ The Parliament have supposed it, by claiming a right to make
tax-laws for America; I think it impossible.

_Q._ Would the repeal of the stamp-act be any discouragement of your
manufactures? Will the people that have begun to manufacture decline it?

_A._ Yes, I think they will; especially if, at the same time, the trade
is open again, so that remittances can be easily made. I have known
several instances that make it probable. In the war before last, tobacco
being low, and making little remittance, the people of Virginia went
generally into family manufactures. Afterward, when tobacco bore a
better price, they returned to the use of British manufactures. So
fulling-mills were very much disused in the last war in Pennsylvania,
because bills were then plenty, and remittances could easily be made to
Britain for English cloth and other goods.

_Q._ If the stamp-act should be repealed, would it induce the assemblies
of America to acknowledge the rights 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._ Do they consider the postoffice as a tax or as a regulation?

_A._ Not as a tax, but as a regulation and convenience; _every assembly_
encouraged it, and supported it in its infancy by grants of money, which
they would not otherwise have done; and the people have always paid the
postage.

_Q._ When did you receive the instructions you mentioned?

_A._ I brought them with me when I came to England, about fifteen months
since.

_Q._ When did you communicate that instruction to the minister?

_A._ Soon after my arrival; while the stamping of America was under
consideration, and _before_ the bill was brought in.

_Q._ Would it be most for the interest of Great Britain to employ the
hands of Virginia in tobacco or in manufactures?

_A._ In tobacco, to be sure.

_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.

Feb. 13. Benjamin Franklin, Esq., having passed through his examination,
was exempted from farther attendance.
_He withdrew._

Feb. 24. The resolutions of the committee were reported by the chairman,
Mr. Fuller, their _seventh_ and last resolution setting forth, "that it
was their opinion that the House be moved, that leave be given to bring
in a bill to repeal the stamp-act." A proposal for recommitting this
resolution was negatived by 240 votes to 133.--_Journals of the House of
Commons._

* * * * *

_Narrative of the Massacre of Friendly Indians in Lancaster County,
Pennsylvania, 1764._

THESE Indians were the remains of a tribe of the Six Nations, settled at
Conestogo, and thence called Conestogo Indians. On the first arrival of
the English in Pennsylvania, messengers from this tribe came to welcome
them, with presents of venison, corn, and skins; and the whole tribe
entered into a treaty of friendship with the first proprietor, William
Penn, which was to last "as long as the sun should shine, or the waters
run in the rivers."

This treaty has been since frequently renewed, and the chain brightened,
as they express it, from time to time. It has never been violated, on
their part or ours, till now. As their lands by degrees were mostly
purchased, and the settlements of the white people began to surround
them, the proprietor assigned them lands on the manor of Conestogo,
which they might not part with; there they have lived many years in
friendship with their white neighbours, who loved them for their
peaceable, inoffensive behaviour.

It has always been observed, that Indians settled in the neighbourhood
of white people do not increase, but diminish continually. This tribe
accordingly went on diminishing, till there remained in their town on
the manor but twenty persons, viz., seven men, five women, and eight
children, boys and girls.

Of these, Shehaes was a very old man, having assisted at the second
treaty held with them, by Mr. Penn, in 1701, and ever since continued a
faithful and affectionate friend to the English. He is said to have been
an exceeding good man, considering his education, being naturally of a
most kind, benevolent temper.

Peggy was Shehaes's daughter; she worked for her aged father, continuing
to live with him, though married, and attended him with filial duty and
tenderness.

John was another good old man; his son Harry helped to support him.

George and Will Soc were two brothers, both young men.

John Smith, a valuable young man of the Cayuga nation, who became
acquainted with Peggy, Shehaes's daughter, some few years since, married
and settled in that family. They had one child, about three years old.

Betty, a harmless old woman; and her son Peter, a likely young lad.

Sally, whose Indian name was Wyanjoy, a woman much esteemed by all that
knew her, for her prudent and good behaviour in some very trying
situations of life. She was a truly good and an amiable woman, had no
children of her own; but, a distant relation dying, she had taken a
child of that relation's to bring up as her own, and performed towards
it all the duties of an affectionate parent.

The reader will observe that many of their names are English. It is
common with the Indians, that have an affection for the English, to give
themselves and their children the names of such English persons as they
particularly esteem.

This little society continued the custom they had begun, when more
numerous, of addressing every new governor and every descendant of the
first proprietor, welcoming him to the province, assuring him of their
fidelity, and praying a continuance of that favour and protection they
had hitherto experienced. They had accordingly sent up an address of
this kind to our present governor on his arrival; but the same was
scarce delivered when the unfortunate catastrophe happened which we are
about to relate.

On Wednesday, the 14th of December, 1763, fifty-seven men from some of
our frontier townships, who had projected the destruction of this little
commonwealth, came, all well mounted, and armed with firelocks, hangers,
and hatchets, having travelled through the country in the night, to
Conestogo manor. There they surrounded the small village of Indian huts,
and just at break of day broke into them all at once. Only three men,
two women, and a young boy were found at home, the rest being out among
the neighbouring white people, some to sell the baskets, brooms, and
bowls they manufactured, and others on other occasions. These poor
defenceless creatures were immediately fired upon, stabbed, and
hatcheted to death! The good Shehaes, among the rest, cut to pieces in
his bed. All of them were scalped and otherwise horribly mangled. Then
their huts were set on fire, and most of them burned down. When the
troop, pleased with their own conduct and bravery, but enraged that any
of the poor Indians had escaped the massacre, rode off, and in small
parties, by different roads, went home.

The universal concern of the neighbouring white people on hearing of
this event, and the lamentations of the younger Indians when they
returned and saw the desolation, and the butchered, half-burned bodies
of their murdered parents and other relations, cannot well be expressed.

The magistrates of Lancaster sent out to collect the remaining Indians,
brought them into the town for their better security against any farther
attempt, and, it is said, condoled with them on the misfortune that had
happened, took them by the hand, comforted, and promised them
protection. They were all put into the workhouse, a strong building as
the place of greatest safety.

When the shocking news arrived in town, a proclamation was issued by the
governor, detailing the particulars of this horrible outrage, and
calling earnestly upon the people of the province to use all possible
means to apprehend and bring to condign punishment its savage
perpetrators.

Notwithstanding this proclamation, those cruel men again assembled
themselves, and, hearing that the remaining fourteen Indians were in the
workhouse at Lancaster, they suddenly appeared in that town on the 27th
of December. Fifty of them, armed as before, dismounting, went directly
to the workhouse, and by violence broke open the door, and entered with
the utmost fury in their countenances. When the poor wretches saw they
had no protection nigh, nor could possibly escape, and being without the
least weapon for defence, they divided into their little families, the
children clinging to the parents; they fell on their knees, protested
their innocence, declared their love to the English, and that, in their
whole lives, they had never done them injury; and in this posture they
all received the hatchet! Men, women, and little children were every one
inhumanly murdered in cold blood!

The barbarous men who committed the atrocious fact, in defiance of
government, of all laws human and divine, and to the eternal disgrace of
their country and colour, then mounted their horses, huzzaed in triumph,
as if they had gained a victory, and rode off _unmolested_!

The bodies of the murdered were then brought out and exposed in the
street, till a hole could be made in the earth to receive and cover
them.

But the wickedness cannot be covered; the guilt will lie on the whole
land, till justice is done on the murderers. The blood of the innocent
will cry to Heaven for vengeance.

It is said that Shehaes, being before told that it was to be feared some
English might come from the frontier into the country and murder him and
his people, he replied, "It is impossible; there are Indians, indeed, in
the woods, who would kill me and mine, if they could get at us, for my
friendship to the English; but the English will wrap me in their
matchcoat and secure me from all danger." How unfortunately was he
mistaken!

Another proclamation has been issued, offering a great reward for
apprehending the murderers.

But these proclamations have as yet produced no discovery; the murderers
having given out such threatenings against those that disapprove their
proceedings, that the whole country seems to be in terror, and no one
dares speak what he knows; even the letters from thence are unsigned, in
which any dislike is expressed of the rioters.

There are some (I am ashamed to hear it) who would extenuate the
enormous wickedness of these actions, by saying, "The inhabitants of the
frontiers are exasperated with the murder of their relations by the
enemy Indians in the present war." It is possible; but, though this
might justify their going out into the woods to seek for those enemies,
and avenge upon them those murders, it can never justify their turning
into the heart of the country to murder their friends.

If an Indian injures me, does it follow that I may revenge that injury
on all Indians? It is well known that Indians are of different tribes,
nations, and languages, as well as the white people. In Europe, if the
French, who are white people, should injure the Dutch, are they to
revenge it on the English, because they too are white people? The only
crime of these poor wretches seems to have been, that they had a
reddish-brown skin and black hair; and some people of that sort, it
seems, had murdered some of our relations. If it be right to kill men
for such a reason, then, should any man with a freckled face and red
hair kill a wife or child of mine, it would be right for me to revenge
it by killing all the freckled, red-haired men, women, and children I
could afterward anywhere meet with.

But it seems these people think they have a better justification;
nothing less than the Word of God. With the Scriptures in their hands
and mouths, they can set at naught that express command, _Thou shalt do
no murder_; and justify their wickedness by the command given Joshua to
destroy the heathen. Horrid perversion of Scripture and of religion! To
father the worst of crimes on the God of peace and love! Even the Jews,
to whom that particular commission was directed, spared the Gibeonites
on account of their faith once given. The faith of this government has
been frequently given to those Indians, but that did not avail them with
people who despise government.

We pretend to be Christians, and, from the superior light we enjoy,
ought to exceed heathens, Turks, Saracens, Moors, negroes, and Indians
in the knowledge and practice of what is right. I will endeavour to
show, by a few examples from books and history, the sense those people
have had of such actions.

Homer wrote his poem, called the _Odyssey_, some hundred years before
the birth of Christ. He frequently speaks of what he calls not only the
duties, but the sacred rites of hospitality, exercised towards strangers
while in our house or territory, as including, besides all the common
circumstances of entertainment, full safety and protection of person
from all danger of life, from all injuries, and even insults. The rites
of hospitality were called _sacred_, because the stranger, the poor, and
the weak, when they applied for protection and relief, were, from the
religion of those times, supposed to be sent by the Deity to try the
goodness of men, and that he would avenge the injuries they might
receive, where they ought to have been protected. These sentiments,
therefore, influenced the manners of all ranks of people, even the
meanest; for we find, that when Ulysses came as a poor stranger to the
hut of Eumæus the swineherd, and his great dogs ran out to tear the
ragged man, Eumæus drove them away with stones; and

"'Unhappy stranger!' (thus the faithful swain
Began, with accent gracious and humane),
'What sorrow had been mine, if at _my_ gate,
Thy reverend age had met a shameless fate!
But enter this my homely roof, and see
Our woods not void of hospitality.'
He said, and seconding the kind request,
With friendly step precedes the unknown guest;
A shaggy goat's soft hide beneath him spread,
And with fresh rushes heaped an ample bed.
Joy touched the hero's tender soul, to find
So just reception from a heart so kind;
And 'Oh, ye gods, with all your blessings grace'
(He thus broke forth) 'this friend of human race!'
The swain replied: 'It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.
For Jove unfolds the hospitable door,
'Tis Jove that sends the strangers and the poor.'"

These heathen people thought that, after a breach of the rites of
hospitality, a curse from Heaven would attend them in everything they
did, and even their honest industry in their callings would fail of
success. Thus when Ulysses tells Eumæus, who doubted the truth of what
he related, "If I deceive you in this, I should deserve death, and I
consent that you should put me to death;" Eumæus rejects the proposal,
as what would be attended with both infamy and misfortune, saying
ironically,

"Doubtless, oh guest, great laud and praise were mine,
If, after social rites and gifts bestowed,
I stained my hospitable hearth with blood.
How would the gods my righteous toils succeed,
And bless the hand that made a stranger bleed?
No more."

Even an open enemy, in the heat of battle, throwing down his arms,
submitting to the foe, and asking life and protection, was supposed to
acquire an immediate right to that protection. Thus one describes his
being saved when his party was defeated:

"We turned to flight; the gathering vengeance spread
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lie dead.
The radiant helmet from my brows unlaced,
And lo, on earth my shield and javelin cast,
I meet the monarch with a suppliant's face,
Approach his chariot, and his knees embrace.
He heard, he saved, he placed me at his side;
My state he pitied, and my tears he dried;
Restrained the rage the vengeful foe expressed,
And turned the deadly weapons from my breast.
Pious to guard the hospitable rite,
And fearing Jove, whom mercy's works delight."

The suiters of Penelope are, by the same ancient poet, described as a
set of lawless men, who were regardless of the sacred rites of
hospitality. And, therefore, when the queen was informed they were
slain, and that by Ulysses, she, not believing that Ulysses was
returned, says,

"Ah no! some god the suiters' deaths decreed,
Some god descends, and by his hand they bleed;
Blind, to contemn the stranger's righteous cause
And violate all hospitable laws!
... The powers they defied;
But Heaven is just, and by a god they died."

Thus much for the sentiments of the ancient heathens. As for the Turks,
it is recorded in the Life of Mohammed, the founder of their religion,
that Khaled, one of his captains, having divided a number of prisoners
between himself and those that were with him, he commanded the hands of
his own prisoners to be tied behind them, and then, in a most cruel and
brutal manner, put them to the sword; but he could not prevail on his
men to massacre _their_ captives, because, in fight, they had laid down
their arms, submitted, and demanded protection. Mohammed, when the
account was brought to him, applauded the men for their humanity; but
said to Khaled, with great indignation, "Oh Khaled, thou butcher, cease
to molest me with thy wickedness. If thou possessedst a heap of gold as
large as Mount Obod, and shouldst expend it all in God's cause, thy
merit would not efface the guilt incurred by the murder of the meanest
of these poor captives."

Among the Arabs or Saracens, though it was lawful to put to death a
prisoner taken in battle, if he had made himself obnoxious by his former
wickedness, yet this could not be done after he had once eaten bread or
drunk water while in their hands. Hence we read in the history of the
wars of the Holy Land, that when the Franks had suffered a great defeat
from Saladin, and among the prisoners were the King of Jerusalem, and
Arnold, a famous Christian captain, who had been very cruel to the
Saracens; these two being brought before the sultan, he placed the king
on his right hand and Arnold on his left, and then presented the king
with a cup of water, who immediately drank to Arnold; but when Arnold
was about to receive the cup, the sultan interrupted, saying, "I will
not suffer this wicked man to drink, as that, according to the laudable
and generous custom of the Arabs, would secure him his life."

That the same laudable and generous custom still prevails among the
Mohammedans, appears from the account, but last year published, of his
travels by Mr. Bell, of Antermony, who accompanied the Czar, Peter the
Great, in his journey to Derbent, through Daggestan. "The religion of
the Daggestans," says he, "is generally Mohammedan, some following the
sect of Osman, others that of Haly. Their language, for the most part,
is Turkish, or, rather, a dialect of the Arabic, though many of them
speak also the Persian language. One article I cannot omit concerning
their laws of hospitality, which is, if their greatest enemy comes under
their roof for protection, the landlord, of what condition soever, is
obliged to keep him safe from all manner of harm or violence during his
abode with him, and even to conduct him safely through his territories
to a place of security."

From the Saracens this same custom obtained among the Moors of Africa;
was by them brought into Spain, and there long sacredly observed. The
Spanish historians record with applause one famous instance of it. While
the Moors governed there, and the Spanish mixed with them, a Spanish
cavalier, in a sudden quarrel, slew a young Moorish gentleman, and fled.
His pursuers soon lost sight of him, for he had, unperceived, thrown
himself over a garden wall. The owner, a Moor, happening to be in his
garden, was addressed by the Spaniard on his knees, who acquainted him
with his case, and implored concealment. "Eat this," said the Moor,
giving him half a peach; "you now know that you may confide in my
protection." He then locked him up in his garden apartment, telling him
that, as soon as it was night, he would provide for his escape to a
place of more safety. The Moor then went into his house, where he had
scarce seated himself when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came
to the gate bringing the corpse of his son, that had just been killed by
a Spaniard. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he
learned, from the description given, that the fatal deed was done by the
person then in his power. He mentioned this to no one; but, as soon as
it was dark, retired to his garden apartment, as if to grieve alone,
giving orders that none should follow him. There accosting the Spaniard,
he said, "Christian, the person you have killed is my son; his body is
in my house. You ought to suffer; but you have eaten with me, and I have
given you my faith, which must not be broken. Follow me." He then led
the astonished Spaniard to his stables, mounted him on one of his
fleetest horses, and said, "Fly far while the night can cover you. You
will be safe in the morning. You are, indeed, guilty of my son's blood;
but God is just and good, and I thank him that I am innocent of yours,
and that my faith given is preserved."

The Spaniards caught from the Moors this _punto_ of honour, the effects
of which remain, in a degree, to this day. So that, when there is fear
of a war about to break out between England and Spain, an English
merchant there, who apprehends the confiscation of his goods as the
goods of an enemy, thinks them safe if he can get a Spaniard to take
charge of them; for the Spaniard secures them as his own, and faithfully
redelivers them, or pays the value whenever the Englishman can safely
demand it.

Justice to that nation, though lately our enemies and hardly yet our
cordial friends, obliges me, on this occasion, not to omit mentioning an
instance of Spanish honour, which cannot but be still fresh in the
memory of many yet living. In 1746, when we were in hot war with Spain,
the Elizabeth, of London, Captain William Edwards, coming through the
Gulf from Jamaica, richly laden, met with a most violent storm, in which
the ship sprung a leak, that obliged them, for the saving of their
lives, to run her into the Havana. The captain went on shore, directly
waited on the governor, told the occasion of his putting in, and that he
surrendered his ship as a prize, and himself and his men as prisoners of
war, only requesting good quarter. "No, sir," replied the Spanish
governor; "if we had taken you in fair war at sea, or approaching our
coast with hostile intentions, your ship would then have been a prize,
and your people prisoners. But when, distressed by a tempest, you come
into our ports for the safety of your lives, we, though enemies, being
men, are bound as such, by the laws of humanity, to afford relief to
distressed men who ask it of us. We cannot, even against our enemies,
take advantage of an act of God. You have leave, therefore, to unload
the ship, if that be necessary to stop the leak; you may refit here, and
traffic so far as shall be necessary to pay the charges; you may then
depart, and I will give you a pass, to be in force till you are beyond
Bermuda. If after that you are taken, you will then be a prize; but now
you are only a stranger, and have a stranger's right to safety and
protection." The ship accordingly departed and arrived safe in London.

Will it be permitted me to adduce, on this occasion, an instance of the
like honour in a poor, unenlightened African negro. I find it in Captain
Seagrave's account of his Voyage to Guinea. He relates, that a
New-England sloop, trading there in 1752, left their second mate,
William Murray, sick on shore, and sailed without him. Murray was at the
house of a black, named Cudjoe, with whom he had contracted an
acquaintance during their trade. He recovered, and the sloop being gone,
he continued with his black friend till some other opportunity should
offer of his getting home. In the mean while, a Dutch ship came into the
road, and some of the blacks, going on board her, were treacherously
seized and carried off as slaves. Their relations and friends,
transported with sudden rage, ran to the house of Cudjoe to take revenge
by killing Murray. Cudjoe stopped them at the door, and demanded what
they wanted. "The white men," said they, "have carried away our brothers
and sons, and we will kill all white men; give us the white man you keep
in your house, for we will kill him." "Nay," said Cudjoe, "the white men
that carried away your brothers are bad men; kill them when you can
catch them; but this white man is a good man, and you must not kill
him." "But he is a white man," they cried; "the white men are all bad,
and we will kill them all." "Nay," said he, "you must not kill a man
that has done no harm, only for being white. This man is my friend, my
house is his fort, and I am his soldier. I must fight for him. You must
kill me before you can kill him. What good man will ever come again
under my roof if I let my floor be stained with a good man's blood!" The
negroes, seeing his resolution, and being convinced, by his discourse,
that they were wrong, went away ashamed. In a few days Murray ventured
abroad again with Cudjoe, when several of them took him by the hand, and
told him they were glad they had not killed him; for, as he was a good
(meaning an innocent) man, their God would have been angry, and would
have spoiled their fishing. "I relate this," says Captain Seagrave, "to
show that some among these dark people have a strong sense of justice
and honour, and that even the most brutal among them are capable of
feeling the force of reason, and of being influenced by a fear of God
(if the knowledge of the true God could be introduced among them), since
even the fear of a false God, when their rage subsided, was not without
its good effect."

Now I am about to mention something of Indians, I beg that I may not be
understood as framing apologies for _all_ Indians. I am far from
desiring to lessen the laudable spirit of resentment in my countrymen
against those now at war with us, so far as it is justified by their
perfidy and inhumanity. I would only observe, that the Six Nations, as a
body, have kept faith with the English ever since we knew them, now near
a hundred years; and that the governing part of those people have had
notions of honour, whatever may be the case of the rum-debauched,
trader-corrupted vagabonds and thieves on the Susquehanna and Ohio at
present in arms against us. As a proof of that honour, I shall only
mention one well-known recent fact. When six Catawba deputies, under the
care of Colonel Bull, of Charlestown, went, by permission, into the
Mohawk's country to sue for, and treat of peace for their nation, they
soon found the Six Nations highly exasperated, and the peace at that
time impracticable. They were therefore in fear of their own persons,
and apprehended that they should be killed in their way back to
New-York; which, being made known to the Mohawk chiefs by Colonel Bull,
one of them, by order of the council, made this speech to the Catawbas:

"Strangers and Enemies,

"While you are in this country, blow away all fear out of your breasts;
change the black streak of paint on your cheeks for a red one, and let
your faces shine with bear's grease. You are safer here than if you were
at home. The Six Nations will not defile their own land with the blood
of men that come unarmed to ask for peace. We shall send a guard with
you, to see you safe out of our territories. So far you shall have
peace, but no farther. Get home to your own country, and there take
care of yourselves, for there we intend to come and kill you."

The Catawbas came away unhurt accordingly.

It is also well known, that just before the late war broke out, when our
traders first went among the Piankeshaw Indians, a tribe of the
Twigtwees, they found the principle of giving protection to strangers in
full force; for, the French coming with their Indians to the Piankeshaw
town, and demanding that those traders and their goods should be
delivered up, the Piankeshaws replied, the English were come there upon
their invitation, and they could not do so base a thing. But the French
insisting on it, the Piankeshaws took arms in defence of their guests,
and a number of them, with their old chief, lost their lives in the
cause; the French at last prevailing by superior force only.

I will not dissemble that numberless stories have been raised and spread
abroad, against not only the poor wretches that are murdered, but also
against the hundred and forty Christianized Indians still threatened to
be murdered; all which stories are well known, by those who know the
Indians best, to be pure inventions, contrived by bad people, either to
excite each other to join in the murder, or, since it was committed, to
justify it, and believed only by the weak and credulous. I call thus
publicly on the makers and venders of these accusations to produce their
evidence. Let them satisfy the public that even Will Soc, the most
obnoxious of all that tribe, was really guilty of those offences against
us which they lay to his charge. But, if he was, ought he not to have
been fairly tried? He lived under our laws, and was subject to them; he
was in our hands, and might easily have been prosecuted; was it English
justice to condemn and execute him unheard? Conscious of his own
innocence, he did not endeavour to hide himself when the door of the
workhouse, his sanctuary, was breaking open. "I will meet them," says
he, "for they are my brothers." These brothers of his shot him down at
the door, while the word "brothers" was between his teeth.

But if Will Soc was a bad man, what had poor old Shehaes done? What
could he or the other poor old men and women do? What had little boys
and girls done! What could children of a year old, babes at the breast,
what could they do, that they too must be shot and hatcheted? Horrid to
relate! And in their parents' arms! This is done by no civilized nation
in Europe. Do we come to America to learn and practise the manners of
barbarians? But this, barbarians as they are, they practice against
their enemies only, not against their friends. These poor people have
been always our friends. Their fathers received ours, when strangers
here, with kindness and hospitality. Behold the return we have made
them! When we grew more numerous and powerful, they put themselves under
our protection. See, in the mangled corpses of the last remains of the
tribe, how effectually we have afforded it to them.

Unhappy people! to have lived in such times and by such neighbours. We
have seen that they would have been safer among the ancient heathens,
with whom the rites of hospitality were sacred. They would have been
considered as guests of the public, and the religion of the country
would have operated in their favour. But our frontier people call
themselves Christians! They would have been safer if they had submitted
to the Turks; for ever since Mohammed's reproof to Khaled, even the
cruel Turks never kill prisoners in cold blood. These were not even
prisoners. But what is the example of Turks to Scripture Christians!
They would have been safer, though they had been taken in actual war
against the Saracens, if they had once drank water with them. These were
not taken in war against us, and have drunk with us, and we with them,
for fourscore years. But shall we compare Saracens to Christians?

They would have been safer among the Moors in Spain, though they had
been murderers of sons, if faith had once been pledged to them, and a
promise of protection given. But these have had the faith of the English
given to them many times by the government, and, in reliance on that
faith, they lived among us, and gave us the opportunity of murdering
them. However, what was honourable in Moors may not be a rule to us; for
we are Christians! They would have been safer, it seems, among popish
Spaniards, even if enemies, and delivered into their hands by a tempest.
These were not enemies; they were born among us, and yet we have killed
them all. But shall we imitate idolatrous papists, we that are
enlightened Protestants? They would even have been safer among the
negroes of Africa, where at least one manly soul would have been found,
with sense, spirit, and humanity enough to stand in their defence. But
shall white men and Christians act like a pagan negro? In short, it
appears that they would have been safe in any part of the known world,
except in the neighbourhood of the _Christian white savages_ of
Peckstang and Donegall!

Oh ye unhappy perpetrators of this horrid wickedness! reflect a moment
on the mischief ye have done, the disgrace ye have brought on your
country, on your religion and your Bible, on your families and children.
Think on the destruction of your captivated countryfolks (now among the
wild Indians), which probably may follow, in resentment of your
barbarity! Think on the wrath of the United Five Nations, hitherto our
friends, but now provoked by your murdering one of their tribes, in
danger of becoming our bitter enemies. Think of the mild and good
government you have so audaciously insulted; the laws of your king,
your country, and your God, that you have broken; the infamous death
that hangs over your heads; for justice, though slow, will come at last.
All good people everywhere detest your actions. You have imbrued your
hands in innocent blood; how will you make them clean? The dying shrieks
and groans of the murdered will often sound in your ears. Their spectres
will sometimes attend you, and affright even your innocent children. Fly
where you will, your consciences will go with you. Talking in your sleep
shall betray you; in the delirium of a fever you yourselves shall make
your own wickedness known.

One hundred and forty peaceable Indians yet remain in this government.
They have, by Christian missionaries, been brought over to a liking, at
least, of our religion; some of them lately left their nation, which is
now at war with us, because they did not choose to join in their
depredations; and to show their confidence in us, and to give us an
equal confidence in them, they have brought and put into our hands their
wives and children. Others have lived long among us in Northampton
county, and most of their children have been born there. These are all
now trembling for their lives. They have been hurried from place to
place for safety, now concealed in corners, then sent out of the
province, refused a passage through a neighbouring colony, and returned,
not unkindly, perhaps, but disgracefully, on our hands. Oh Pennsylvania!
Once renowned for kindness to strangers, shall the clamours of a few
mean niggards about the expense of this public hospitality, an expense
that will not cost the noisy wretches sixpence a piece (and what is the
expense of the poor maintenance we afford them, compared to the expense
they might occasion if in arms against us?), shall so senseless a
clamour, I say, force you to turn out of your own doors these unhappy
guests, who have offended their own countryfolks by their affection for
you; who, confiding in your goodness, have put themselves under your
protection? Those whom you have disarmed to satisfy groundless
suspicions, will you leave them exposed to the armed madmen of your
country? Unmanly men! who are not ashamed to come with weapons against
the unarmed, to use the sword against women, and the bayonet against
your children, and who have already given such bloody proofs of their
inhumanity and cruelty.

Let us rouse ourselves for shame, and redeem the honour of our province
from the contempt of its neighbours; let all good men join heartily and
unanimously in support of the laws, and in strengthening the hands of
government, that justice may be done, the wicked punished, and the
innocent protected; otherwise we can, as a people, expect no blessing
from Heaven; there will be no security for our persons or properties;
anarchy and confusion will prevail over all; and violence, without
judgment, dispose of everything.

* * * * *

_Introduction to Historical Review of the Constitution and Government of
Pennsylvania._[22]

To obtain an infinite variety of purposes by a few plain principles, is
the characteristic of nature. As the eye is affected, so is the
understanding; objects at a distance strike us according to their
dimensions, or the quantity of light thrown upon them; near, according
to their novelty or familiarity, as they are in motion or at rest. It
is the same with actions. A battle is all motion, a hero all glare:
while such images are before us, we can attend to nothing else. Solon
and Lycurgus would make no figure in the same scene with the king of
Prussia; and we are at present so lost in the military scramble on the
continent next us, in which, it must be confessed, we are deeply
interested, that we have scarce time to throw a glance towards America,
where we have also much at stake, and where, if anywhere, our account
must be made up at last.

We love to stare more than to reflect; and to be indolently amused at
our leisure rather than commit the smallest trespass on our patience by
winding a painful, tedious maze, which would pay us in nothing but
knowledge.

But then, as there are some eyes which can find nothing marvellous but
what is marvellously great, so there are others which are equally
disposed to marvel at what is marvellously little, and who can derive as
much entertainment from their microscope in examining a mite, as Dr.
---- in ascertaining the geography of the moon or measuring the tail of
a comet.

Let this serve as an excuse for the author of these sheets, if he needs
any, for bestowing them on the transactions of a colony till of late
hardly mentioned in our annals; in point of establishment one of the
last upon the British list, and in point of rank one of the most
subordinate; as being not only subject, in common with the rest, to the
crown, but also to the claims of a proprietary, who thinks he does them
honour enough in governing them by deputy; consequently so much farther
removed from the royal eye, and so much the more exposed to the pressure
of self-interested instructions.

Considerable, however, as most of them for happiness of situation,
fertility of soil, product of valuable commodities, number of
inhabitants, shipping amount of exportations, latitude of rights and
privileges, and every other requisite for the being and well-being of
society, and more considerable than any of them all for the celerity of
its growth, unassisted by any human help but the vigour and virtue of
its own excellent constitution.

A father and his family, the latter united by interest and affection,
the former to be revered for the wisdom of his institutions and the
indulgent use of his authority, was the form it was at first presented
in. Those who were only ambitious of repose, found it here; and as none
returned with an evil report of the land, numbers followed, all partook
of the leaven they found; the community still wore the same equal face;
nobody aspired, nobody was oppressed; industry was sure of profit,
knowledge of esteem, and virtue of veneration.

An assuming landlord, strongly disposed to convert free tenants into
abject vassals, and to reap what he did not sow, countenanced and
abetted by a few desperate and designing dependants on the one side, and
on the other, all who have sense enough to know their rights and spirit
enough to defend them, combined as one man against the said landlord and
his encroachments, is the form it has since assumed.

And surely, to a nation born to liberty like this, bound to leave it
unimpaired, as they received it from their fathers, in perpetuity to
their heirs, and interested in the conservation of it in every appendage
of the British empire, the particulars of such a contest cannot be
wholly indifferent.

On the contrary, it is reasonable to think the first workings of power
against liberty, and the natural efforts of unbiased men to secure
themselves against the first approaches of oppression, must have a
captivating power over every man of sensibility and discernment among
us.

Liberty, it seems, thrives best in the woods. America best cultivates
what Germany brought forth. And were it not for certain ugly
comparisons, hard to be suppressed, the pleasure arising from such a
research would be without alloy.

In the feuds of Florence, recorded by Machiavel, we find more to lament
and less to praise. Scarce can we believe the first citizens of the
ancient republics had such pretensions to consideration, though so
highly celebrated in ancient story. And as to ourselves, we need no
longer have recourse to the late glorious stand of the French
parliaments to excite our emulation.

It is a known custom among farmers to change their corn from season to
season for the sake of filling the bushel; and in case the wisdom of the
age should condescend to make the like experiment in another shape, from
hence we may learn whither to repair for the proper species.

It is not, however, to be presumed, that such as have long been
accustomed to consider the colonies in general as only so many
dependencies on the council-board, the board of trade, and the board of
customs; or as a hotbed for causes, jobs, and other pecuniary
emoluments, and as bound as effectually by instructions as by laws, can
be prevailed upon to consider these patriot rustics with any degree of
respect.

Derision, on the contrary, must be the lot of him who imagines it in the
power of the pen to set any lustre upon them; and indignation theirs for
daring to assert and maintain the independence interwoven in their
constitution, which now, it seems, is become an improper ingredient,
and, therefore, to be excised away.

But how contemptibly soever these gentlemen may talk of the colonies,
how cheap soever they may hold their assemblies, or how insignificant
the planters and traders who compose them, truth will be truth, and
principle principle, notwithstanding.

Courage, wisdom, integrity, and honour are not to be measured by the
sphere assigned them to act in, but by the trials they undergo and the
vouchers they furnish; and, if so manifested, need neither robes nor
titles to set them off.

* * * * *

_Dr. Franklin's motion for Prayers in the Convention assembled at
Philadelphia, 1787, to revise the then existing Articles of
Confederation._

MR. PRESIDENT,

THE small progress we have made after four or five weeks' close
attendance and continual reasonings with each other, our different
sentiments on almost every question, several of the last producing as
many _Noes_ as _Ayes_, is, methinks, a melancholy proof of the
imperfection of the human understanding. We indeed seem to _feel_ our
own want of political wisdom, since we have been running all about in
search of it. We have gone back to ancient history for models of
government, and examined the different forms of those republics which,
having been originally formed with the seeds of their own dissolution,
now no longer exist; and we have viewed modern states all round Europe,
but find none of their constitutions suitable to our circumstances.

In this situation of this Assembly, groping, as it were, in the dark, to
find political truth, and scarce able to distinguish it when presented
to us, how has it happened, sir, that we have not hitherto once thought
of humbly applying to the Father of Lights to illuminate our
understandings? In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when we
were sensible of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for the
Divine protection! Our prayers, sir, were heard; and they were
graciously answered. All of us who were engaged in the struggle must
have observed frequent instances of a superintending Providence in our
favour. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity of
consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national
felicity. And have we now forgotten that powerful friend? or do we
imagine we no longer need its assistance? I have lived, sir, a long
time: and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this
truth, _That_ GOD _governs in the affairs of men_! And if a sparrow
cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable that an
empire can rise without his aid? We have been assured, sir, in the
Sacred Writings, that "except the Lord build the house, they labour in
vain that build it." I firmly believe this; and I also believe, that
without his concurring aid, we shall succeed in this political building
no better than the building of Babel: we shall be divided by our little
partial local interests, our projects will be confounded, and we
ourselves shall become a reproach and a byword down to future ages. And,
what is worse, mankind may hereafter, from this unfortunate instance,
despair of establishing government by human wisdom, and leave it to
chance, war, and conquest.

I therefore beg leave to move,

That henceforth prayers, imploring the assistance of Heaven and its
blessing on our deliberations, be held in this Assembly every morning
before we proceed to business; and that one or more of the clergy of
this city be requested to officiate in that service.

[Note by Dr. Franklin.]--"_The Convention, except three or four persons,
thought prayers unnecessary!!_"

* * * * *

END OF VOL. I.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] The following appears to be the history of this celebrated Act:

Until 1763, whenever Great Britain wanted supplies directly from the
colonies, the secretary of state, in the king's name, sent them a letter
of requisition, in which the occasion for the supplies was expressed;
and the colonies returned a _free gift_, the mode of levying which
_they_ wholly prescribed. At this period the chancellor of the exchequer
(Mr. George Grenville) says to the House of Commons, "_We must call for
money from the colonies in the way of a tax_;" and to the colony-agents,
"_Write to your several colonies, and tell them, if they dislike a duty
upon_ stamps, _and prefer any other method of raising the money
themselves, I shall be content, provided the_ amount _be but raised_."
"That is," observed the colonies, when commenting upon his terms, "if we
will not tax ourselves _as we may be directed_, the Parliament will tax
us." Dr. Franklin's instructions, spoken of above, related to this
gracious option. As the colonies could not choose "_another_ tax" while
they disclaimed _every_ tax, the Parliament passed the stamp-act.

This act declared that the Americans should have no commerce, make no
exchange of property with each other, neither purchase, nor grant, nor
recover debts; they shall neither marry nor make their wills, unless
they pay such and such sums in _specie_ for the stamps which must give
validity to the proceedings. The operation of such a tax, its annual
productiveness, on its introduction, was estimated by its proposer in
the House of Commons at 100,000_l. sterling_. The colonies being already
reduced to the necessity of having _paper_ money, by sending to Britain
the specie they collected in foreign trade, in order to make up for the
deficiency of their other returns for Britain's manufactures; there were
doubts whether there could remain _specie_ sufficient to answer the tax.

[19] Some of the colonies had been reduced to the necessity of
bartering, from the want of a medium of traffic.

[20] Afterward expressed in the Declaratory Act.

[21] When this army was in the utmost distress from the want of wagons,
&c., our author and his son voluntarily traversed the country, in order
to collect a sufficient quantity; and effected their purpose, by
pledging himself to the amount of many thousand pounds, for payment. It
was but just before Dr. Franklin's last return from England to America
that the accounts in this transaction were passed at the British
treasury.

[22] The publication of this work by Doctor Franklin was made in London
during the war that begun in 1773. The introduction is a model of vivid
style and sound wisdom. It is written as in London.

* * * * *

of Benjamin Franklin; Written by
Himself, Volume II (of 2), by Benjamin Franklin

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Title: Memoirs of Benjamin Franklin; Written by Himself, Volume II (of 2)
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Author: Benjamin Franklin

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MEMOIRS

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN;

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

WITH HIS

MOST INTERESTING ESSAYS, LETTERS, AND MISCELLANEOUS
WRITINGS; FAMILIAR, MORAL, POLITICAL,
ECONOMICAL, AND PHILOSOPHICAL.

SELECTED WITH CARE

FROM ALL HIS PUBLISHED PRODUCTIONS, AND COMPRISING
WHATEVER IS MOST ENTERTAINING AND VALUABLE
TO THE GENERAL READER.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II

New York:
Harper & Brothers, Publishers,
Franklin Square.
1860.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.

CONTENTS

THE SECOND VOLUME.

ESSAYS.
Page
The Way to Wealth; as clearly shown in the practice of
an old Pennsylvania Almanac, entitled, "Poor Richard
Improved" 5

On True Happiness 14

Public Men 16

The Waste of Life 22

Self-denial not the Essence of Virtue 25

On the Usefulness of the Mathematics 27

The Art of procuring Pleasant Dreams 31

Advice to a young Tradesman 37

Rules of Health 39

The Ephemera; an Emblem of Human Life. To Madame
Brillon, of Passy 40

The Whistle. To Madame Brillon 42

On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry 45

On Truth and Falsehood 50

Necessary Hints to those that would be Rich 53

The Way to make Money plenty in every Man's Pocket 54

The Handsome and Deformed Leg 55

On Human Vanity 58

On Smuggling, and its various Species 62

Remarks concerning the Savages of North America 66

On Freedom of Speech and the Press 71

On the Price of Corn and the Management of the Poor 82

Singular Custom among the Americans, entitled Whitewashing 86

On the Criminal Laws and the Practice of Privateering 94

Letter from Anthony Afterwit 102

LETTERS.

To Mrs. Abiah Franklin 107

To Miss Jane Franklin 108

To the same 109

To Mr. George Whitefield 110

To Mrs. D. Franklin 112

To the same 113

To Mrs. Jane Mecom 114

To the same 115

To the same 116

To Miss Stevenson 119

To Lord Kames 120

To the same 121

To the same 128

To John Alleyne 130

To Governor Franklin 132

To Dr. Priestley 134

To the same 136

To Mr. Mather 137

To Mr. Strahan 138

To Dr. Priestley 138

To Mrs. Thompson 139

To Mr. Lith 142

Answer to a Letter from Brussels 144

To Dr. Price 151

To Dr. Priestley 152

To General Washington 154

To M. Court de Gebelin 156

To Francis Hopkinson 158

To Francis Hopkinson 159

To Samuel Huntingdon, President of Congress 160

To the Bishop of St. Asaph 162

To Miss Alexander 163

To Benjamin Vaughan 164

To Mrs. Hewson 166

To David Hartley 167

To Dr. Percival 168

To Sir Joseph Banks 169

To Robert Morris, Esq. 171

To Dr. Mather 172

To William Strahan, M.P. 174

To George Wheatley 178

To David Hartley 181

To the Bishop of St. Asaph 181

To Mrs. Hewson 184

To M. Veillard 185

To Mr. Jordain 187

To Miss Hubbard 189

To George Wheatley 190

To B. Vaughan 192

To the President of Congress 193

To Mrs. Green 196

To Dr. Price 197

To B. Vaughan 198

To Dr. Rush 199

To Miss Catharine Louisa Shipley 199

To * * * 200

Copy of the last Letter written by Dr. Franklin 201

PHILOSOPHICAL SUBJECTS.

To the Abbé Soulavie.--Theory of the Earth 203

To Dr. John Pringle.--On the different Strata of the Earth 207

To Mr. Bowdoin.--Queries and Conjectures relating to Magnetism
and the Theory of the Earth 208

To M. Dubourg.--On the Nature of Seacoal 211

Causes of Earthquakes 212

To David Rittenhouse.--New and Curious Theory of Light
and Heat 224

Of Lightning; and the Methods now used in America for
the securing Buildings and Persons from its mischievous
Effects 227

To Peter Collinson.--Electrical Kite 231

Physical and Meteorological Observations, Conjectures, and
Suppositions 232

To Dr. Perkins.--Water-spouts and Whirlwinds compared 240

To Alexander Small.--On the Northeast Storms in North
America 254

To Dr. Lining.--On Cold produced by Evaporation 256

To Peter Franklin.--On the Saltness of Seawater 263

To Miss Stephenson.--Salt Water rendered fresh by
Distillation.--Method of relieving Thirst by Seawater 264

To the same.--Tendency of Rivers to the Sea.--Effects of
the Sun's Rays on Cloths of different Colours 266

To the same.--On the Effect of Air on the Barometer, and
the Benefits derived from the Study of Insects 270

To Dr. Joseph Priestley.--Effect of Vegetation on Noxious Air 273

To Dr. John Pringle.--On the Difference of Navigation in
Shoal and Deep Water 274

To Oliver Neale.--On the Art of Swimming 277

To Miss Stephenson.--Method of contracting Chimneys.--Modesty
in Disputation 281

To M. Dubourg.--Observations on the prevailing Doctrines
of Life and Death 282

Lord Brougham's Portrait of Dr. Franklin 285

WRITINGS OF FRANKLIN

* * * * *

ESSAYS,

HUMOROUS, MORAL, ECONOMICAL, AND POLITICAL.

* * * * *

THE WAY TO WEALTH,

_As dearly shown in the practice of an old Pennsylvania Almanac,
entitled, "Poor Richard Improved."_

COURTEOUS READER,

I have heard that nothing gives an author so great pleasure as to find
his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, then, how much I must
have been gratified by an incident I am going to relate to you. I
stopped my horse lately where a great number of people were collected at
an auction of merchants' goods. The hour of the sale not being come,
they were conversing on the badness of the times; and one of the company
called to a plain, clean old man, with white locks, "Pray, Father
Abraham, what think you of the times? Will not these heavy taxes quite
ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to pay them? What would you
advise us to?" Father Abraham stood up and replied, "If you would have
my advice, I will give it you in short; for _A word to the wise is
enough_, as Poor Richard says." They joined in desiring him to speak his
mind; and, gathering round him, he proceeded as follows:

"Friends," said he, "the taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those laid
on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might more
easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous
to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times
as much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and from
these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an
abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be
done for us: _God helps them that help themselves_, as Poor Richard
says.

"I. It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one
tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service; but idleness
taxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely
shortens life. _Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour wears;
while the used key is always bright_, as Poor Richard says. _But dost
thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is
made of_, as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we
spend in sleep? forgetting that _The sleeping fox catches no poultry_,
and that _There will be sleeping enough in the grave_, as Poor Richard
says.

"_If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be_, as
Poor Richard says, the _greatest prodigality_; since, as he elsewhere
tells us, _Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough,
always proves little enough_. Let us, then, up and be doing, and doing
to the purpose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity.
_Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy_; and _He that
riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at
night_; while _Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes
him_. _Drive thy business, let not that drive thee_; and _Early to bed
and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise_, as Poor
Richard says.

"So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make
these times better if we bestir ourselves. _Industry need not wish, and
he that lives upon hopes will die fasting_. _There are no gains without
pains; then help, hands, for I have no lands_; or, if I have, they are
smartly taxed. _He that hath a trade hath an estate; and he that hath a
calling hath an office of profit and honour_, as Poor Richard says; but
then the trade must be worked at, and the calling followed, or neither
the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are
industrious, we shall never starve; for, _At the workingman's house
hunger looks in, but dares not enter_. Nor will the bailiff or the
constable enter; for _Industry pays debts, while despair increaseth
them_. What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation
left you a legacy? _Diligence is the mother of luck, and God gives all
things to industry. Then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and you
shall have corn to sell and to keep._ Work while it is called to-day,
for you know not how much you may be hindered to-morrow. _One to-day is
worth two to-morrows_, as Poor Richard says; and farther, _Never leave
that till to-morrow which you can do to-day_. If you were a servant,
would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? Are
you, then, your own master? Be ashamed to catch yourself idle when there
is so much to be done for yourself, your family, and your country.
Handle your tools without mittens; remember that _The cat in gloves
catches no mice_, as Poor Richard says. It is true there is much to be
done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you
will see great effects; for _Constant dropping wears away stones_; and
_By diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable_; and _Little
strokes fell great oaks_.

"Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must a man afford himself no
leisure?' I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says: _Employ
thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and, since thou art not
sure of a minute, throw not away an hour_. Leisure is time for doing
something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the
lazy man never; for _A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two
things. Many, without labour, would live by their wits only, but they
break for want of stock_; whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty,
and respect. _Fly pleasures, and they will follow you. The diligent
spinner has a large shift; and now I have a sheep and a cow, everybody
bids me good-morrow._

"II. But with our industry we must likewise be steady, settled, and
careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust
too much to others; for, as Poor Richard says,

_I never saw an oft-removed tree,
Nor yet an oft-removed family,
That throve so well as those that settled be._

And again, _Three removes are as bad as a fire_; and again, _Keep thy
shop, and thy shop will keep thee_; and again, _If you would have your
business done, go; if not, send_. And again,

_He that by the plough would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive._

And again, _The eye of a master will do more work than both his hands_;
and again, _Want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge_;
and again, _Not to oversee workmen is to leave them your purse open_.
Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many; _for in the
affairs of this world men are saved, not by faith, but by the want of
it_; but a man's own care is profitable; for, _If you would have a
faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. A little
neglect may breed great mischief; for want of a nail the shoe was lost;
for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider
was lost, being overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for the want of a
little care about a horseshoe nail._

"III. So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own
business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make our
industry more certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how to
save as he gets, keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and die
not worth a groat at last. _A fat kitchen makes a lean will_; and

_Many estates are spent in the getting,
Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting,
And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting._

_If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of getting. The
Indies have not made Spain rich, because her outgoes are greater than
her incomes._

"Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not then have so
much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable
families. And farther, _What maintains one vice would bring up two
children_. You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little punch
now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a
little entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember,
_Many a little makes a mickle_. Beware of little expenses; _A small leak
will sink a great ship_, as Poor Richard says; and again, _Who dainties
love, shall beggars prove_; and moreover, _Fools make feasts, and wise
men eat them_.

"Here you are all got together at this sale of fineries and knickknacks.
You call them _goods_; but, if you do not take care, they will prove
_evils_ to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps
they may for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for them,
they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: _Buy what
thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries_. And
again, _At a great pennyworth pause a while_. He means, that perhaps the
cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or the bargain, by straitening
thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. For in another
place he says, _Many have been ruined by buying good pennyworths_.
Again, _It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance_; and
yet this folly is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding
the Almanac. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, have gone
with a hungry belly, and half starved their families. _Silks and satins,
scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen fire_, as Poor Richard says.

"These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the
conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to
have them! By these and other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to
poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but
who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in
which case it appears plainly that _A ploughman on his legs is higher
than a gentleman on his knees_, as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have
had a small estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they
think _It is day, and will never be night_; that a little to be spent
out of so much is not worth minding; but _Always taking out of the
mealtub and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom_, as Poor Richard
says; and then, _When the well is dry, they know the worth of water_.
But this they might have known before if they had taken his advice. _If
you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some; for he
that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing_, as Poor Richard says; and
indeed so does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in
again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says,

_Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse;
Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse._

And again, _Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and a great deal more
saucy_. When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that
your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, _It is
easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it_.
And it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog
to swell in order to equal the ox.

_Vessels large may venture more,
But little boats should keep near shore._

It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as Poor Richard says, _Pride
that dines on vanity, sups on contempt. Pride breakfasted with Plenty,
dined with Poverty, and supped with Infamy_. And, after all, of what use
is this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much is
suffered? It cannot promote health nor ease pain; it makes no increase
of merit in the person; it creates envy; it hastens misfortune.

"But what madness must it be to _run in debt_ for these superfluities?
We are offered, by the terms of this sale, six months' credit; and that,
perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare
the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what
you do when you run in debt; you give to another power over your
liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your
creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor,
pitiful, sneaking excuses, and, by degrees, come to lose your veracity,
and sink into base, downright lying; for _The second vice is lying, the
first is running in debt_, as Poor Richard says; and again, to the same
purpose, _Lying rides upon Debt's back_, whereas a freeborn ought not to
be ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. But poverty
often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. _It is hard for an empty
bag to stand upright._

"What would you think of that prince or of that government who should
issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman,
on pain of imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you were
free, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would
be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical? And
yet you are about to put your self under such tyranny, when you run in
debt for such dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to
deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail till you shall be
able to pay him. When you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think
little of payment; but, as Poor Richard says, _Creditors have better
memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, great
observers of set days and times_. The day comes round before you are
aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or,
if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long,
will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. Time will seem to have
added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. _Those have a short
Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter_. At present, perhaps, you may
think yourselves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a
little extravagance without injury; but

_For age and want save while you may;
No morning sun lasts a whole day._

Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you live, expense
is constant and certain; and _It is easier to build two chimneys than to
keep one in fuel_, as Poor Richard says; so, _Rather go to bed
supperless than rise in debt_.

"IV. This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do
not depend too much upon your own industry, and frugality, and prudence,
though excellent things; for they may all be blasted, without the
blessing of Heaven; and, therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not
uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and
help them. Remember, Job suffered, and was afterward prosperous.

"And now, to conclude, _Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will
learn in no other_, as Poor Richard says, and scarce in that; for it is
true, _We may give advice, but we cannot give conduct_. However,
remember this, _They that will not be counselled cannot be helped_; and
farther, that, _If you will not hear Reason, she will surely rap your
knuckles_, as Poor Richard says."

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it, and
approved the doctrine; and immediately practised the contrary, just as
if it had been a common sermon; for the auction opened, and they began
to buy extravagantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my
Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped on these topics during the
course of twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must
have tired any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with
it, though I was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my
own which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of
the sense of all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better
for the echo of it; and, though I had at first determined to buy stuff
for a new coat, I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer.
Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. I
am, as ever, thine to serve thee,

RICHARD SAUNDERS.

* * * * *

ON TRUE HAPPINESS.

The desire of happiness in general is so natural to us, that all the
world are in pursuit of it; all have this one end in view, though they
take such different methods to attain it, and are so much divided in
their notions of it.

Evil, as evil, can never be chosen; and, though evil is often the effect
of our own choice, yet we never desire it, but under the appearance of
an imaginary good.

Many things we indulge ourselves in may be considered by us as evils,
and yet be desirable; but then they are only considered as evils in
their effects and consequences, not as evils at present, and attended
with immediate misery.

Reason represents things to us not only as they are at present, but as
they are in their whole nature and tendency; passion only regards them
in the former light. When this governs us, we are regardless of the
future, and are only affected with the present. It is impossible ever to
enjoy ourselves rightly, if our conduct be not such as to preserve the
harmony and order of our faculties, and the original frame and
constitution of our minds; all true happiness, as all that is truly
beautiful, can only result from order.

While there is a conflict between the two principles of passion and
reason, we must be miserable in proportion to the struggle; and when the
victory is gained, and reason so far subdued as seldom to trouble us
with its remonstrances, the happiness we have then is not the happiness
of our rational nature, but the happiness only of the inferior and
sensual part of us, and, consequently, a very low and imperfect
happiness to what the other would have afforded us.

If we reflect upon any one passion and disposition of mind, abstract
from virtue, we shall soon see the disconnexion between that and true,
solid happiness. It is of the very essence, for instance, of envy to be
uneasy and disquieted. Pride meets with provocations and disturbances
upon almost every occasion. Covetousness is ever attended with
solicitude and anxiety. Ambition has its disappointments to sour us, but
never the good fortune to satisfy us; its appetite grows the keener by
indulgence, and all we can gratify it with at present serves but the
more to inflame its insatiable desires.

The passions, by being too much conversant with earthly objects, can
never fix in us a proper composure and acquiescence of mind. Nothing but
an indifference to the things of this world, an entire submission to the
will of Providence here, and a well-grounded expectation of happiness
hereafter, can give us a true, satisfactory enjoyment of ourselves.
Virtue is the best guard against the many unavoidable evils incident to
us; nothing better alleviates the weight of the afflictions, or gives a
truer relish of the blessings, of human life.

What is without us has not the least connexion with happiness, only so
far as the preservation of our lives and health depends upon it. Health
of body, though so far necessary that we cannot be perfectly happy
without it, is not sufficient to make us happy of itself. Happiness
springs immediately from the mind; health is but to be considered as a
condition or circumstance, without which this happiness cannot be tasted
pure and unabated.

Virtue is the best preservation of health, as it prescribes temperance,
and such a regulation of our passions as is most conducive to the
well-being of the animal economy; so that it is, at the same time, the
only true happiness of the mind, and the best means of preserving the
health of the body.

If our desires are to the things of this world, they are never to be
satisfied. If our great view is upon those of the next, the expectation
of them is an infinitely higher satisfaction than the enjoyment of those
of the present.

There is no happiness, then, but in a virtuous and self-approving
conduct. Unless our actions will bear the test of our sober judgments
and reflections upon them, they are not the actions, and, consequently,
not the happiness, of a rational being.

* * * * *

PUBLIC MEN

The following is a dialogue between Socrates, the great Athenian
philosopher, and one Glaucon, a private man, of mean abilities, but
ambitious of being chosen a senator and of governing the republic;
wherein Socrates in a pleasant manner convinces him of his incapacity
for public affairs, by making him sensible of his ignorance of the
interests of his country in their several branches, and entirely
dissuades him from any attempt of that nature. There is also added, at
the end, part of another dialogue the same Socrates had with one
Charmidas, a worthy man, but too modest, wherein he endeavours to
persuade him to put himself forward and undertake public business, as
being very capable of it. The whole is taken from _Xenophon's Memorable
Things of Socrates, Book Third_.

"A certain man, whose name was Glaucon, the son of Ariston, had so fixed
it in his mind to govern the republic, that he frequently presented
himself before the people to discourse of affairs of state, though all
the world laughed at him for it; nor was it in the power of his
relations or friends to dissuade him from that design. But Socrates had
a kindness for him, on account of Plato, his brother, and he only it was
who made him change his resolution. He met him, and accosted him in so
winning a manner, that he first obliged him to hearken to his discourse.
He began with him thus:

"'You have a mind, then, to govern the republic?'

"'I have so,' answered Glaucon.

"'You cannot,' replied Socrates, 'have a more noble design; for if you
can accomplish it so as to become absolute, you will be able to serve
your friends, you will raise your family, you will extend the bounds of
your country, you will be known, not only in Athens, but through all
Greece, and perhaps your renown will fly even to the barbarous nations,
as did that of Themistocles. In short, wherever you come, you will have
the respect and admiration of all the world.'

"These words soothed Glaucon, and won him to give ear to Socrates, who
went on in this manner: 'But it is certain, that if you desire to be
honoured, you must be useful to the state.'

"'Certainly,' said Glaucon.

"'And in the name of all the gods,' replied Socrates, 'tell me, what is
the first service that you intend to render the state?'

"Glaucon was considering what to answer, when Socrates continued: 'If
you design to make the fortune of one of your friends, you will
endeavour to make him rich, and thus, perhaps, you will make it your
business to enrich the republic?'

"'I would,' answered Glaucon.

"Socrates replied, 'Would not the way to enrich the republic be to
increase its revenue?'

"'It is very likely it would,' answered Glaucon.

"'Tell me, then, in what consists the revenue of the state, and to how
much it may amount? I presume you have particularly studied this matter,
to the end that, if anything should be lost on one hand, you might know
where to make it good on another; and that, if a fund should fail on a
sudden, you might immediately be able to settle another in its place?'

"'I protest,' answered Glaucon, 'I have never thought of this.'

"'Tell me, at least, the expenses of the republic, for no doubt you
intend to retrench the superfluous?'

"'I never thought of this either,' said Glaucon.

"'You were best, then, to put off to another time your design of
enriching the republic, which you can never be able to do while you are
ignorant both of its expenses and revenue.'

"'There is another way to enrich a state,' said Glaucon, 'of which you
take no notice; and that is, by the ruin [spoils] of its enemies.'

"'You are in the right,' answered Socrates; 'but to this end it is
necessary to be stronger than they, otherwise we shall run the hazard of
losing what we have. He, therefore, who talks of undertaking a war,
ought to know the strength on both sides, to the end that, if his party
be the stronger, he may boldly advise for war, and that, if it be the
weaker, he may dissuade the people from engaging themselves in so
dangerous an enterprise.'

"'All this is true.'

"'Tell me, then,' continued Socrates,'how strong our forces are by sea
and land, and how strong are our enemies.'

"'Indeed,' said Glaucon, 'I cannot tell you on a sudden.'

"'If you have a list of them in writing, pray show it me; I should be
glad to hear it read.'

"'I have it not yet.'

"'I see, then,' said Socrates, 'that we shall not engage in war so
soon; for the greatness of the undertaking will hinder you from maturely
weighing all the consequences of it in the beginning of your government.
But,' continued he, 'you have thought of the defence of the country; you
know what garrisons are necessary, and what are not; you know what
number of troops is sufficient in one, and not sufficient in another;
you will cause the necessary garrisons to be re-enforced, and disband
those that are useless?'

"'I should be of opinion,' said Glaucon, 'to leave none of them on foot,
because they ruin a country on pretence of defending it.'

"'But,' Socrates objected, 'if all the garrisons were taken away, there
would be nothing to hinder the first comer from carrying off what he
pleased; but how come you to know that the garrisons behave themselves
so ill? Have you been upon the place? Have you seen them?'

"'Not at all; but I suspect it to be so.'

"'When, therefore, we are certain of it,' said Socrates, 'and can speak
upon better grounds than simple conjectures, we will propose this advice
to the senate.'

"'It may be well to do so,' said Glaucon.

"'It comes into my mind, too,' continued Socrates, 'that you have never
been at the mines of silver, to examine why they bring not in so much
now as they did formerly.'

"'You say true; I have never been there.'

"'Indeed, they say the place is very unhealthy, and that may excuse
you.'

"'You rally me now,' said Glaucon.

"Socrates added, 'But I believe you have at least observed how much corn
our land produces, how long it will serve to supply our city, and how
much more we shall want for the whole year; to the end you may not be
surprised with a scarcity of bread, but may give timely orders for the
necessary provisions.'

"'There is a deal to do,' said Glaucon, 'if we must take care of all
these things.'

"'There is so,' replied Socrates; 'and it is even impossible to manage
our own families well, unless we know all that is wanting, and take care
to provide it. As you see, therefore, that our city is composed of above
ten thousand families, and it being a difficult task to watch over them
all at once, why did you not first try to retrieve your uncle's affairs,
which are running to decay? and, after having given that proof of your
industry, you might have taken a greater trust upon you. But now, when
you find yourself incapable of aiding a private man, how can you think
of behaving yourself so as to be useful to a whole people? Ought a man,
who has not strength enought to carry a hundred pound weight, to
undertake to carry a heavier burden?'

"'I would have done good service to my uncle,' said Glaucon, 'if he
would have taken my advice.'

"'How,' replied Socrates, 'have you not hitherto been able to govern the
mind of your uncle, and do you now believe yourself able to govern the
minds of all the Athenians, and his among the rest? Take heed, my dear
Glaucon, take heed lest too great a desire of power should render you
despised; consider how dangerous it is to speak and entertain ourselves
concerning things we do not understand; what a figure do those forward
and rash people make in the world who do so; and judge yourself whether
they acquire more esteem than blame, whether they are more admired than
contemned. Think, on the contrary, with how much more honour a man is
regarded who understands perfectly what he says and what he does, and
then you will confess that renown and applause have always been the
recompense of true merit, and shame the reward of ignorance and
temerity. If, therefore, you would be honoured, endeavour to be a man of
true merit; and if you enter upon the government of the republic with a
mind more sagacious than usual, I shall not wonder if you succeed in all
your designs.'"

Thus Socrates put a stop to the disorderly ambition of this man; but, on
an occasion quite contrary, he in the following manner exhorted
Charmidas to take an employment.

"He was a man of sense, and more deserving than most others in the same
post; but, as he was of a modest disposition, he constantly declined,
and made great difficulties of engaging himself in public business.
Socrates therefore addressed himself to him in this manner:

"'If you knew any man that could gain the prizes in the public games,
and by that means render himself illustrious, and acquire glory to his
country, what would you say of him if he refused to offer himself to the
combat?'

"'I would say,' answered Charmidas, 'that he was a mean-spirited,
effeminate fellow.'

"'And if a man were capable of governing a republic, of increasing its
power by his advice, and of raising himself by this means to a high
degree of honour, would you not brand him likewise with meanness of soul
if he would not present himself to be employed?'

"'Perhaps I might,' said Charmidas; 'but why do you ask me this
question?' Socrates replied, 'Because you are capable of managing the
affairs of the republic, and nevertheless you avoid doing so, though, in
quality of a citizen, you are _obliged_ to take care of the
commonwealth. Be no longer, then, thus negligent in this matter;
consider your abilities and your duty with more attention, and let not
slip the occasions of serving the republic, and of rendering it, if
possible, more flourishing than it is. This will be a blessing whose
influence will descend not only on the other citizens, but on your best
friends and yourself.'"

* * * * *

THE WASTE OF LIFE.

Anergus was a gentleman of a good estate; he was bred to no business,
and could not contrive how to waste his hours agreeably; he had no
relish for any of the proper works of life, nor any taste at all for the
improvements of the mind; he spent, generally, ten hours of the
four-and-twenty in his bed; he dozed away two or three more on his
couch, and as many were dissolved in good liquor every evening, if he
met with company of his own humour. Five or six of the rest he sauntered
away with much indolence; the chief business of them was to contrive his
meals, and to feed his fancy beforehand with the promise of a dinner and
supper; not that he was so absolute a glutton or so entirely devoted to
his appetite, but, chiefly because he knew not how to employ his
thoughts better, he let them rove about the sustenance of his body. Thus
he had made a shift to wear off ten years since the paternal estate fell
into his hands; and yet, according to the abuse of words in our day, he
was called a man of virtue, because he was scarce ever known to be quite
drunken, nor was his nature much inclined to licentiousness.

One evening, as he was musing alone, his thoughts happened to take a
most unusual turn, for they cast a glance backward, and began to reflect
on his manner of life. He bethought himself what a number of living
beings had been made a sacrifice to support his carcass, and how much
corn and wine had been mingled with those offerings. He had not quite
lost all the arithmetic that he had learned when he was a boy, and he
set himself to compute what he had devoured since he came to the age of
man.

"About a dozen of feathered creatures, small and great, have, one week
with another," said he, "given up their lives to prolong mine, which in
ten years amounts to at least six thousand.

"Fifty sheep have been sacrificed in a year, with half a hecatomb of
black cattle, that I might have the choicest part offered weekly upon my
table. Thus a thousand beasts out of the flock and the herd have been
slain in ten years' time to feed me, besides what the forest has
supplied me with. Many hundreds of fishes have, in all their varieties,
been robbed of life for my repast, and of the smaller fry as many
thousands.

"A measure of corn would hardly afford me fine flour enough for a
month's provision, and this arises to above six score bushels; and many
hogsheads of ale and wine, and other liquors, have passed through this
body of mine, this wretched strainer of meat and drink.

"And what have I done all this time for God or man? What a vast
profusion of good things upon a useless life and a worthless liver!
There is not the meanest creature among all these which I have devoured,
but hath answered the end of its creation better than I. It was made to
support human nature, and it hath done so. Every crab and oyster I have
ate, and every grain of corn I have devoured, hath filled up its place
in the rank of beings with more propriety and honour than I have done.
Oh shameful waste of life and time!"

In short, he carried on his moral reflections with so just and severe a
force of reason, as constrained him to change his whole course of life,
to break off his follies at once, and to apply himself to gain some
useful knowledge, when he was more than thirty years of age. He lived
many following years with the character of a worthy man and an
excellent Christian; he performed the kind offices of a good neighbour
at home, and made a shining figure as a patriot in the senate-house; he
died with a peaceful conscience, and the tears of his country were
dropped upon his tomb.

The world, that knew the whole series of his life, stood amazed at the
mighty change. They beheld him as a wonder of reformation, while he
himself confessed and adored the Divine power and mercy, which had
transformed him from a brute to a man.

But this was a single instance; and we may almost venture to write
MIRACLE upon it. Are there not numbers of both sexes among our young
gentry, in this degenerate age, whose lives thus run to utter waste,
without the least tendency to usefulness?

When I meet with persons of such a worthless character as this, it
brings to my mind some scraps of Horace:

"Nos numerus sumus, et fruges consumere nati,
. . . . . . . . Alcinoique
. . . . . . . . . juventus,
Cui pulchrum fuit in medios dormire dies," &c.

PARAPHRASE.

There are a number of us creep
Into this world, to eat and sleep;
And know no reason why they're born,
But merely to consume the corn,
Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish,
And leave behind an empty dish.
Though crows and ravens do the same,
Unlucky birds of hateful name,
Ravens or crows might fill their places,
And swallow corn and eat carcáses,
Then, if their tombstone, when they die,
Be n't taught to flatter and to lie.
There's nothing better will be said,
Than that _they've eat up all their bread,
Drunk all their drink, and gone to bed_.

* * * * *

SELF-DENIAL NOT THE ESSENCE OF VIRTUE.

It is commonly asserted, that without self-denial there is no virtue,
and that the greater the self-denial the greater the virtue.

If it were said that he who cannot deny himself anything he inclines to,
though he knows it will be to his hurt, has not the virtue of resolution
or fortitude, it would be intelligible enough; but, as it stands, it
seems obscure or erroneous.

Let us consider some of the virtues singly.

If a man has no inclination to wrong people in his dealings, if he feels
no temptation to it, and, therefore, never does it, can it be said that
he is not a just man? If he is a just man, has he not the virtue of
justice?

If to a certain man idle diversions have nothing in them that is
tempting, and, therefore, he never relaxes his application to business
for their sake, is he not an industrious man? Or has he not the virtue
of industry?

I might in like manner instance in all the rest of the virtues; but, to
make the thing short, as it is certain that the more we strive against
the temptation to any vice, and practise the contrary virtue, the weaker
will that temptation be, and the stronger will be that habit, till at
length the temptation has no force or entirely vanishes; does it follow
from thence that, in our endeavours to overcome vice, we grow
continually less and less virtuous, till at length we have no virtue at
all?

If self-denial be the essence of virtue, then it follows that the man
who is naturally temperate, just, &c., is not virtuous; but that, in
order to be virtuous, he must, in spite of his natural inclination,
wrong his neighbours, and eat, and drink, &c., to excess.

But perhaps it may be said, that by the word _virtue_ in the above
assertion is meant merit; and so it should stand thus: Without
self-denial there is no merit, and the greater the self-denial the
greater the merit.

The self-denial here meant must be when our inclinations are towards
vice, or else it would still be nonsense.

By merit is understood desert; and when we say a man merits, we mean
that he deserves praise or reward.

We do not pretend to merit anything of God, for he is above our
services; and the benefits he confers on us are the effects of his
goodness and bounty.

All our merit, then, is with regard to one another, and from one to
another.

Taking, then, the assertion as it last stands,

If a man does me a service from a natural benevolent inclination, does
he deserve less of me than another, who does me the like kindness
against his inclination?

If I have two journeymen, one naturally industrious, the other idle, but
both perform a day's work equally good, ought I to give the latter the
most wages?

Indeed, lazy workmen are commonly observed to be more extravagant in
their demands than the industrious; for, if they have not more for their
work, they cannot live as well. But though it be true to a proverb that
lazy folks take the most pains, does it follow that they deserve the
most money?

If you were to employ servants in affairs of trust, would you not bid
more for one you knew was naturally honest than for one naturally
roguish, but who has lately acted honestly? For currents, whose natural
channel is dammed up till the new course is by time worn sufficiently
deep and become natural, are apt to break their banks. If one servant is
more valuable than another, has he not more merit than the other? and
yet this is not on account of superior self-denial.

Is a patriot not praiseworthy if public spirit is natural to him?

Is a pacing-horse less valuable for being a natural pacer?

Nor, in my opinion, has any man less merit for having, in general,
natural virtuous inclinations.

The truth is, that temperance, justice, charity, &c., are virtues,
whether practised with or against our inclinations; and the man who
practises them merits our love and esteem; and self-denial is neither
good nor bad but as it is applied. He that denies a vicious inclination,
is virtuous in proportion to his resolution; but the most perfect virtue
is above all temptation; such as the virtue of the saints in heaven; and
he who does a foolish, indecent, or wicked thing, merely because it is
contrary to his inclination (like some mad enthusiasts I have read of,
who ran about naked, under the notion of taking up the cross), is not
practising the reasonable science of virtue, but is a lunatic.

* * * * *

ON THE USEFULNESS OF THE MATHEMATICS.

Mathematics originally signified any kind of discipline or learning, but
now it is taken for that science which teaches or contemplates whatever
is capable of being numbered or measured. That part of the mathematics
which relates to numbers only, is called _arithmetic_; and that which
is concerned about measure in general, whether length, breadth, motion,
force, &c., is called _geometry_.

As to the usefulness of arithmetic, it is well known that no business,
commerce, trade, or employment whatsoever, even from the merchant to the
shopkeeper, &c., can be managed and carried on without the assistance of
numbers; for by these the trader computes the value of all sorts of
goods that he dealeth in, does his business with ease and certainty, and
informs himself how matters stand at any time with respect to men,
money, and merchandise, to profit and loss, whether he goes forward or
backward, grows richer or poorer. Neither is this science only useful to
the merchant, but is reckoned the _primum mobile_ (or first mover) of
all mundane affairs in general, and is useful for all sorts and degrees
of men, from the highest to the lowest.

As to the usefulness of geometry, it is as certain that no curious art
or mechanic work can either be invented, improved, or performed without
its assisting principles.

It is owing to this that astronomers are put into a way of making their
observations, coming at the knowledge of the extent of the heavens, the
duration of time, the motions, magnitudes, and distances of the heavenly
bodies, their situations, positions, risings, settings, aspects, and
eclipses; also the measure of seasons, of years, and of ages.

It is by the assistance of this science that geographers present to our
view at once the magnitude and form of the whole earth, the vast extent
of the seas, the divisions of empires, kingdoms, and provinces.

It is by the help of geometry the ingenious mariner is instructed how to
guide a ship through the vast ocean, from one part of the earth to
another, the nearest and safest way, and in the shortest time.

By help of this science the architects take their just measures for the
structure of buildings, as private houses, churches, palaces, ships,
fortifications, &c.

By its help engineers conduct all their works, take the situation and
plan of towns, forts, and castles, measure their distances from one
another, and carry their measures into places that are only accessible
to the eye.

From hence also is deduced that admirable art of drawing sundials on any
place, howsoever situate, and for any part of the world, to point out
the exact time of the day, the sun's declination, altitude, amplitude,
azimuth, and other astronomical matters.

By geometry the surveyor is directed how to draw a map of any country,
to divide his lands, and to lay down and plot any piece of ground, and
thereby discover the area in acres, rods, and perches; the gauger is
instructed how to find the capacities or solid contents of all kinds of
vessels, in barrels, gallons, bushels, &c.; and the measurer is
furnished with rules for finding the areas and contents of superfices
and solids, and casting up all manner of workmanship. All these, and
many more useful arts, too many to be enumerated here, wholly depend
upon the aforesaid sciences, namely, arithmetic and geometry.

This science is descended from the infancy of the world, the inventors
of which were the first propagators of human kind, as Adam, Noah,
Abraham, Moses, and divers others.

There has not been any science so much esteemed and honoured as this of
the mathematics, nor with so much industry and vigilance become the care
of great men, and laboured in by the potentates of the world, namely,
emperors, kings, princes, &c.

_Mathematical demonstrations_ are a logic of as much or more use than
that commonly learned at schools, serving to a just formation of the
mind, enlarging its capacity, and strengthening it so as to render the
same capable of exact reasoning, and discerning truth from falsehood in
all occurrences, even subjects not mathematical. For which reason it is
said the Egyptians, Persians, and Lacedæmonians seldom elected any new
kings but such as had some knowledge in the mathematics; imagining those
who had not men of imperfect judgments, and unfit to rule and govern.

Though Plato's censure, that those who did not understand the 117th
proposition of the 13th book of Euclid's Elements ought not to be ranked
among rational creatures, was unreasonable and unjust, yet to give a man
the character of universal learning, who is destitute of a competent
knowledge in the mathematics, is no less so.

The usefulness of some particular parts of the mathematics, in the
common affairs of human life, has rendered some knowledge of them very
necessary to a great part of mankind, and very convenient to all the
rest, that are any way conversant beyond the limits of their own
particular callings.

Those whom necessity has obliged to get their bread by manual industry,
where some degree of art is required to go along with it, and who have
had some insight into these studies, have very often found advantages
from them sufficient to reward the pains they were at in acquiring them.
And whatever may have been imputed to some other studies, under the
notion of insignificance and loss of time, yet these, I believe, never
caused repentance in any, except it was for their remissness in the
prosecution of them.

Philosophers do generally affirm that human knowledge to be most
excellent which is conversant among the most excellent things. What
science, then, can there be more noble, more excellent, more useful for
men, more admirably high and demonstrative, than this of the
mathematics?

I shall conclude with what Plato says, in the seventh book of his
_Republic_, with regard to the excellence and usefulness of geometry,
being to this purpose:

"Dear friend--You see, then, that mathematics are necessary, because, by
the exactness of the method, we get a habit of using our minds to the
best advantage. And it is remarkable that, all men being capable by
nature to reason and understand the sciences, the less acute, by
studying this, though useless to them in every other respect, will gain
this advantage, that their minds will be improved in reasoning aright;
for no study employs it more, nor makes it susceptible of attention so
much; and those who we find have a mind worth cultivating, ought to
apply themselves to this study."

* * * * *

THE ART OF PROCURING PLEASANT DREAMS.

_Inscribed to Miss * * * *, being written at her request_

As a great part of our life is spent in sleep, during which we have
sometimes pleasant and some times painful dreams, it becomes of some
consequence to obtain the one kind and avoid the other, for, whether
real or imaginary, pain is pain and pleasure is pleasure. If we can
sleep without dreaming, it is well that painful dreams are avoided. If,
while we sleep, we can have any pleasing dreams, it is, as the French
say, _autant de gagné_, so much added to the pleasure of life.

To this end it is, in the first place, necessary to be careful in
preserving health, by due exercise and great temperance; for in sickness
the imagination is disturbed, and disagreeable, sometimes terrible,
ideas are apt to present themselves. Exercise should precede meals, not
immediately follow them; the first promotes, the latter, unless
moderate, obstructs digestion. If, after exercise, we feed sparingly,
the digestion will be easy and good, the body lightsome, the temper
cheerful, and all the animal functions performed agreeably. Sleep, when
it follows, will be natural and undisturbed; while indolence, with full
feeding, occasions nightmares and horrors inexpressible; we fall from
precipices, are assaulted by wild beasts, murderers, and demons, and
experience every variety of distress. Observe, however, that the
quantities of food and exercise are relative things; those who move much
may, and, indeed, ought to, eat more; those who use little exercise
should eat little. In general, mankind, since the improvement of
cookery, eat about twice as much as nature requires. Suppers are not bad
if we have not dined; but restless nights naturally follow hearty
suppers after full dinners. Indeed, as there is a difference in
constitutions, some rest well after these meals; it costs them only a
frightful dream and an apoplexy, after which they sleep till doomsday.
Nothing is more common in the newspapers than instances of people who,
after eating a hearty supper, are found dead abed in the morning.

Another means of preserving health, to be attended to, is the having a
constant supply of fresh air in your bedchamber. It has been a great
mistake, the sleeping in rooms exactly closed, and in beds surrounded by
curtains. No outward air that may come in to you is so unwholesome as
the unchanged air, often breathed, of a close chamber. As boiling water
does not grow hotter by longer boiling, if the particles that receive
greater heat can escape, so living bodies do not putrefy if the
particles, so fast as they become putrid, can be thrown off. Nature
expels them by the pores of the skin and the lungs, and in a free, open
air they are carried off; but in a close room we receive them again and
again, though they become more and more corrupt. A number of persons
crowded into a small room thus spoil the air in a few minutes and even
render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcutta. A single person is
said to spoil only a gallon of air per minute, and therefore requires a
longer time to spoil a bedchamber-full; but it is done, however, in
proportion, and many putrid disorders hence have their origin. It is
recorded of Methusalem, who, being the longest liver, may be supposed to
have best preserved his health, that he slept always in the open air;
for, when he had lived five hundred years, an angel said to him, "Arise,
Methusalem, and build thee a house, for thou shalt live yet five hundred
years longer." But Methusalem answered and said, "If I am to live but
five hundred years longer, it is not worth while to build me a house; I
will sleep in the air, as I have been used to do." Physicians, after
having for ages contended that the sick should not be indulged with
fresh air, have at length discovered that it may do them good. It is
therefore to be hoped that they may in time discover likewise that it is
not hurtful to those who are in health, and that we may then be cured of
the _aerophoba_, that at present distresses weak minds, and makes them
choose to be stifled and poisoned rather than leave open the window of a
bedchamber or put down the glass of a coach.

Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter,[1] will not
receive more; and that matter must remain in our bodies and occasion
diseases; but it gives some previous notice of its being about to be
hurtful, by producing certain uneasiness, slight indeed at first, such
as with regard to the lungs is a trifling sensation, and to the pores of
the skin a kind of restlessness, which is difficult to describe, and few
that feel it know the cause of it. But we may recollect that sometimes,
on waking in the night, we have, if warmly covered, found it difficult
to get asleep again. We turn often, without finding repose in any
position. This fidgetiness (to use a vulgar expression for want of a
better) is occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the skin, owing to the
retention of the perspirable matter, the bedclothes having received
their quantity, and, being saturated, refusing to take any more. To
become sensible of this by an experiment, let a person keep his position
in the bed, but throw off the bedclothes, and suffer fresh air to
approach the part uncovered of his body; he will then feel that part
suddenly refreshed; for the air will immediately relieve the skin, by
receiving, licking up, and carrying off, the load of perspirable matter
that incommoded it. For every portion of cool air that approaches the
warm skin, in receiving its portion of that vapour, receives therewith a
degree of heat that rarefies and renders it lighter, when it will be
pushed away, with its burden, by cooler and, therefore, heavier fresh
air, which for a moment supplies its place, and then, being likewise
changed and warmed, gives way to a succeeding quantity. This is the
order of nature, to prevent animals being infected by their own
perspiration. He will now be sensible of the difference between the part
exposed to the air and that which, remaining sunk in the bed, denies the
air access; for this part now manifests its uneasiness more distinctly
by the comparison, and the seat of the uneasiness is more plainly
perceived than when the whole surface of the body was affected by it.

[1] What physicians call perspirable matter is that vapour which
passes off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores
of the skin. The quantity of this is said to be five eighths of
what we eat.--AUTHOR.

Here, then, is one great and general cause of unpleasing dreams. For
when the body is uneasy, the mind will be disturbed by it, and
disagreeable ideas of various kinds will in sleep be the natural
consequences. The remedies, preventive and curative, follow:

1. By eating moderately (as before advised for health's sake), less
perspirable matter is produced in a given time; hence the bedclothes
receive it longer before they are saturated, and we may therefore sleep
longer before we are made uneasy by their refusing to receive any more.

2. By using thinner and more porous bedclothes, which will suffer the
perspirable matter more easily to pass through them, we are less
incommoded, such being longer tolerable.

3. When you are awakened by this uneasiness, and find you cannot easily
sleep again, get out of bed, beat up and turn your pillow, shake the
bedclothes well, with at least twenty shakes, then throw the bed open
and leave it to cool; in the mean while, continuing undressed, walk
about your chamber till your skin has had time to discharge its load,
which it will do sooner as the air may be drier and colder. When you
begin to feel the cold air unpleasant, then return to your bed, and you
will soon fall asleep, and your sleep will be sweet and pleasant. All
the scenes presented to your fancy will be, too, of the pleasing kind. I
am often as agreeably entertained with them as by the scenery of an
opera. If you happen to be too indolent to get out of bed, you may,
instead of it, lift up your bedclothes with one arm and leg, so as to
draw in a good deal of fresh air, and, by letting them fall, force it
out again. This, repeated twenty times, will so clear them of the
perspirable matter they have imbibed, as to permit your sleeping well
for some time afterward. But this latter method is not equal to the
former.

Those who do not love trouble, and can afford to have two beds, will
find great luxury in rising, when they wake in a hot bed, and going into
the cool one. Such shifting of beds would also be of great service to
persons ill of a fever, as it refreshes and frequently procures sleep. A
very large bed, that will admit a removal so distant from the first
situation as to be cool and sweet, may in a degree answer the same end.

One or two observations more will conclude this little piece. Care must
be taken, when you lie down, to dispose your pillow so as to suit your
manner of placing your head, and to be perfectly easy; then place your
limbs so as not to bear inconveniently hard upon one another, as, for
instance, the joints of your ancles; for, though a bad position may at
first give but little pain and be hardly noticed, yet a continuance will
render it less tolerable, and the uneasiness may come on while you are
asleep, and disturb your imagination. These are the rules of the art.
But, though they will generally prove effectual in producing the end
intended, there is a case in which the most punctual observance of them
will be totally fruitless. I need not mention the case to you, my dear
friend, but my account of the art would be imperfect without it. The
case is, when the person who desires to have pleasant dreams has not
taken care to preserve, what is necessary above all things,

A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

* * * * *

ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN.

TO MY FRIEND A. B.

As you have desired it of me, I write the following hints, which have
been of service to me, and may, if observed, be so to you.

Remember that _time_ is money. He that can earn ten shillings a day by
his labour, and goes abroad or sits idle one half of that day, though he
spends but sixpence during his diversion or idleness, ought not to
reckon _that_ the only expense; he has really spent, or, rather, thrown
away, five shillings besides.

Remember that _credit_ is money. If a man lets his money lie in my hands
after it is due, he gives me the interest, or so much as I can make of
it during that time. This amounts to a considerable sum where a man has
good and large credit, and makes good use of it.

Remember that money is of the prolific, generating nature. Money can
beget money, and its offspring can beget more, and so on. Five shillings
turned is six, turned again it is seven and threepence, and so on till
it becomes a hundred pounds. The more there is of it, the more it
produces every turning, so that the profits rise quicker and quicker. He
that kills a breeding-sow, destroys all her offspring to the thousandth
generation. He that murders a crown, destroys all that it might have
produced, even scores of pounds.

Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. For this little
sum (which may be daily wasted either in time or expense unperceived) a
man of credit may, on his own security, have the constant possession and
use of a hundred pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an
industrious man, produces great advantage.

Remember this saying, _The good paymaster is lord of another man's
purse._ He that is known to pay punctually and exactly to the time he
promises, may at any time, and on any occasion, raise all the money his
friends can spare. This is sometimes of great use. After industry and
frugality, nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the
world than punctuality and justice in all his dealings; therefore never
keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a
disappointment shut up your friend's purse for ever.

The most trifling actions that affect a man's credit are to be regarded.
The sound of your hammer at five in the morning or nine at night, heard
by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer; but if he sees you at a
billiard-table, or hears your voice at a tavern when you should be at
work, he sends for his money the next day; demands it, before he can
receive it, in a lump.

It shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe; it makes you
appear a careful as well as an honest man, and that still increases your
credit.

Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and of living
accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who have credit fall into.
To prevent this, keep an exact account for some time both of your
expenses and your income. If you take the pains at first to mention
particulars, it will have this good effect: you will discover how
wonderfully small, trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will
discern what might have been, and may, for the future, be saved, without
occasioning any great inconvenience.

In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as the way to
market. It depends chiefly on two words, _industry_ and _frugality_;
that is, waste neither _time_ nor _money_, but make the best use of
both. Without industry and frugality nothing will do, and with them
everything. He that gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets
(necessary expenses excepted), will certainly become _rich_, if that
Being who governs the world, to whom all should look for a blessing on
their honest endeavours, doth not, in his wise providence, otherwise
determine.

AN OLD TRADESMAN.

* * * * *

RULES OF HEALTH.

Eat and drink such an exact quantity as the constitution of thy body
allows of, in reference to the services of the mind.

They that study much ought not to eat so much as those that work hard,
their digestion being not so good.

The exact quantity and quality being found out, is to be kept to
constantly.

Excess in all other things whatever, as well as in meat and drink, is
also to be avoided.

Youth, age, and the sick require a different quantity.

And so do those of contrary complexions; for that which is too much for
a phlegmatic man is not sufficient for a choleric.

The measure of food ought to be (as much as possibly may be) exactly
proportionable to the quality and condition of the stomach, because the
stomach digests it.

That quantity that is sufficient, the stomach can perfectly concoct and
digest, and it sufficeth the due nourishment of the body.

A greater quantity of some things may be eaten than of others, some
being of lighter digestion than others.

The difficulty lies in finding out an exact measure; but eat for
necessity, not pleasure; for lust knows not where necessity ends.

Wouldst thou enjoy a long life, a healthy body, and a vigorous mind, and
be acquainted also with the wonderful works of God, labour in the first
place to bring thy appetite to reason.

* * * * *

THE EPHEMERA; AN EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE.

TO MADAME BRILLON, OF PASSY.

Written in 1778.

You may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent that happy
day in the delightful garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I
stopped a little in one of our walks, and stayed some time behind the
company. We had been shown numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly,
called an ephemera, whose successive generations, we were told, were
bred and expired within the day. I happened to see a living company of
them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. You know I
understand all the inferior animal tongues. My too great application to
the study of them is the best excuse I can give for the little progress
I have made in your charming language. I listened, through curiosity, to
the discourse of these little creatures; but as they, in their national
vivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make but little of their
conversation. I found, however, by some broken expressions that I heard
now and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two foreign
musicians, one a _cousin_, the other a _moscheto_; in which dispute
they spent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life
as if they had been sure of living a month. Happy people! thought I; you
are certainly under a wise, just, and mild government, since you have no
public grievances to complain of, nor any subject of contention but the
perfections and imperfections of foreign music. I turned my head from
them to an old gray-headed one, who was single on another leaf, and
talking to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down in
writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so much
indebted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her delicious company
and heavenly harmony.

"It was," said he, "the opinion of learned philosophers of our race, who
lived and flourished long before my time, that this vast world, the
Moulin Joy, could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours; and I
think there was some foundation for that opinion, since, by the apparent
motion of the great luminary that gives life to all nature, and which in
my time has evidently declined considerably towards the ocean at the end
of our earth, it must then finish its course, be extinguished in the
waters that surround us, and leave the world in cold and darkness,
necessarily producing universal death and destruction. I have lived
seven of those hours, a great age, being no less than four hundred and
twenty minutes of time. How very few of us continue so long! I have seen
generations born, flourish, and expire! My present friends are the
children and grandchildren of the friends of my youth, who are now,
alas, no more! And I must soon follow them; for, by the course of
nature, though still in health, I cannot expect to live above seven or
eight minutes longer. What now avails all my toil and labour in amassing
honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy? What the political
struggles I have been engaged in for the good of my compatriot
inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies for the benefit of
our race in general! for, in politics, what can laws do without morals?
Our present race of ephemeræ will in a course of minutes become corrupt
like those of other and older bushes, and, consequently, as wretched.
And in philosophy how small our progress! Alas! art is long and life is
short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of a name they say I
shall leave behind me; and they tell me I have lived long enough to
nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera who no longer
exists? And what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour, when
the world itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall come to its end and
be buried in universal ruin?"

To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain but
the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensible
conversation of a few good lady ephemeræ, and now and then a kind smile
and a tune from the ever amiable _Brillante_.

* * * * *

THE WHISTLE.

TO MADAME BRILLON.

Passy, November 10, 1779.

* * * * * I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your
plan of living there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that, in
the mean time, we should draw all the good we can from this world. In my
opinion, we might all draw more good from it than we do, and suffer less
evil, if we would take care not to give too much for _whistles_ For to
me it seems that most of the unhappy people we meet with are become so
by neglect of that caution.

You ask what I mean? You love stories, and will excuse my telling one of
myself.

When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, on a holyday, filled
my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys
for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_ that I
met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and
gave all my money for one. I then came home and went whistling all over
the house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all the
family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain
I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was
worth; put me in mind of what good things I might have bought with the
rest of the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried
with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the
_whistle_ gave me pleasure.

This, however, was afterward of use to me, the impression continuing on
my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary
thing, I said to myself, _Don't give too much for the whistle_; and I
saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I
thought I met with many, very many, who _gave too much for the whistle_.

When I saw one too ambitious of court favour, sacrificing his time in
attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps
his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gives too
much for his whistle._

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in
political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that
neglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his whistle._

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all
the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his
fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of
accumulating wealth, _Poor man_, said I, _you pay too much for your
whistle._

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable
improvement of the mind or of his fortune to mere corporeal sensations,
and ruining his health in their pursuit, _Mistaken man_, said I, _you
are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure; you give too much
for your whistle._

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine
furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts
debts and ends his days in prison, _Alas!_ say I, _he has paid dear,
very dear, for his whistle._

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured
brute of a husband, _What a pity_, say I, _that she should pay so much
for a whistle!_

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are
brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of
things, and by their _giving too much for their whistles_.

Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I consider
that, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certain
things in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John,
which, happily, are not to be bought; for if they were put to sale by
auction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and
find that I had once more given too much for the _whistle_.

Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours very sincerely and with
unalterable affection,

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, AND INDUSTRY.[2]

[2] From a letter to Mr. Benjamin Vaughan, dated at Passy, July
26th, 1784.

It is wonderful how preposterously the affairs of this world are
managed. Naturally one would imagine that the interest of a few
individuals should give way to general interest; but individuals manage
their affairs with so much more application, industry, and address than
the public do theirs, that general interest most commonly gives way to
particular. We assemble parliaments and councils to have the benefit of
their collected wisdom; but we necessarily have, at the same time, the
inconvenience of their collected passions, prejudices, and private
interests. By the help of these, artful men overpower their wisdom and
dupe its possessors: and if we may judge by the acts, _arrêts_, and
edicts, all the world over, for regulating commerce, an assembly of
great men is the greatest fool upon earth.

I have not yet, indeed, thought of a remedy for luxury. I am not sure
that in a great state it is capable of a remedy, nor that the evil is in
itself always so great as it is represented. Suppose we include in the
definition of luxury all unnecessary expense, and then let us consider
whether laws to prevent such expense are possible to be executed in a
great country, and whether, if they could be executed, our people
generally would be happier, or even richer. Is not the hope of being one
day able to purchase and enjoy luxuries a great spur to labour and
industry! May not luxury, therefore, produce more than it consumes, if
without such a spur people would be, as they are naturally enough
inclined to be, lazy and indolent? To this purpose I remember a
circumstance. The skipper of a shallop, employed between Cape May and
Philadelphia, had done us some small service, for which he refused to be
paid. My wife, understanding that he had a daughter, sent her a
new-fashioned cap. Three years after, this skipper being at my house
with an old farmer of Cape May, his passenger, he mentioned the cap, and
how much his daughter had been pleased with it. "But," said he, "it
proved a dear cap to our congregation." "How so?" "When my daughter
appeared with it at meeting, it was so much admired that all the girls
resolved to get such caps from Philadelphia; and my wife and I computed
that the whole could not have cost less than a hundred pounds." "True,"
said the farmer, "but you do not tell all the story. I think the cap
was, nevertheless, an advantage to us, for it was the first thing that
put our girls upon knitting worsted mittens for sale at Philadelphia,
that they might have wherewithal to buy caps and ribands there; and you
know that that industry has continued, and is likely to continue, and
increase to a much greater value, and answer better purposes." Upon the
whole, I was more reconciled to this little piece of luxury, since not
only the girls were made happier by having fine caps, but the
Philadelphians by the supply of warm mittens.

In our commercial towns upon the seacoast fortunes will occasionally be
made. Some of those who grow rich will be prudent, live within bounds,
and preserve what they have gained for their posterity; others, fond of
showing their wealth, will be extravagant and ruin themselves. Laws
cannot prevent this; and perhaps it is not always an evil to the public.
A shilling spent idly by a fool may be picked up by a wiser person, who
knows better what to do with it. It is, therefore, not lost. A vain,
silly fellow builds a fine house, furnishes it richly, lives in it
expensively, and in a few years ruins himself; but the masons,
carpenters, smiths, and other honest tradesmen have been by his employ
assisted in maintaining and raising their families; the farmer has been
paid for his labour, and encouraged, and the estate is now in better
hands. In some cases, indeed, certain modes of luxury may be a public
evil, in the same manner as it is a private one. If there be a nation,
for instance, that exports its beef and linen to pay for the importation
of claret and porter, while a great part of its people live upon
potatoes and wear no shirts, wherein does it differ from the sot, who
lets his family starve and sells his clothes to buy drink? Our American
commerce is, I confess, a little in this way. We sell our victuals to
the Islands for rum and sugar; the substantial necessaries of life for
superfluities. But we have plenty, and live well, nevertheless, though,
by being soberer, we might be richer.

The vast quantity of forest-land we have yet to clear and put in order
for cultivation, will for a long time keep the body of our nation
laborious and frugal. Forming an opinion of our people and their manners
by what is seen among the inhabitants of the seaports, is judging from
an improper sample. The people of the trading towns may be rich and
luxurious, while the country possesses all the virtues that tend to
promote happiness and public prosperity. Those towns are not much
regarded by the country; they are hardly considered as an essential part
of the states; and the experience of the last war has shown, that their
being in possession of the enemy did not necessarily draw on the
subjection of the country, which bravely continued to maintain its
freedom and independence notwithstanding.

It has been computed by some political arithmetician, that if every man
and woman would work for four hours every day on something useful, that
labour would produce sufficient to procure all the necessaries of life,
want and misery would be banished out of the world, and the rest of the
twenty-four hours might be leisure and pleasure.

What occasions, then, so much want and misery? It is the employment of
men and women in works that produce neither the necessaries nor
conveniences of life; who, with those who do nothing, consume
necessaries raised by the laborious. To explain this.

The first elements of wealth are obtained by labour, from the earth and
waters. I have land and raise corn. With this, if I feed a family that
does nothing, my corn will be consumed, and at the end of the year I
shall be no richer than I was at the beginning. But if, while I feed
them, I employ them, some in spinning, others in making bricks, &c., for
building, the value of my corn will be arrested and remain with me, and
at the end of the year we may all be better clothed and better lodged.
And if, instead of employing a man I feed in making bricks, I employ him
in fiddling for me, the corn he eats is gone, and no part of his
manufacture remains to augment the wealth and convenience of the family;
I shall, therefore, be the poorer for this fiddling man, unless the rest
of my family work more or eat less, to make up the deficiency he
occasions.

Look round the world and see the millions employed in doing nothing, or
in something that amounts to nothing, when the necessaries and
conveniences of life are in question. What is the bulk of commerce, for
which we fight and destroy each other, but the toil of millions for
superfluities, to the great hazard and loss of many lives by the
constant dangers of the sea? How much labour is spent in building and
fitting great ships to go to China and Arabia for tea and coffee, to the
West Indies for sugar, to America for tobacco? These things can not be
called the necessaries of life, for our ancestors lived very comfortably
without them.

A question may be asked. Could all these people, now employed in
raising, making, or carrying superfluities, be subsisted by raising
necessaries? I think they might. The world is large, and a great part of
it still uncultivated. Many hundred millions of acres in Asia, Africa,
and America are still in a forest, and a great deal even in Europe. On a
hundred acres of this forest a man might become a substantial farmer;
and a hundred thousand men, employed in clearing each his hundred acres,
would hardly brighten a spot big enough to be visible from the moon,
unless with Herschel's telescope; so vast are the regions still in wood.

It is, however, some comfort to reflect, that, upon the whole, the
quantity of industry and prudence among mankind exceeds the quantity of
idleness and folly. Hence the increase of good buildings, farms
cultivated, and populous cities filled with wealth, all over Europe,
which a few ages since were only to be found on the coast of the
Mediterranean; and this, notwithstanding the mad wars continually
raging, by which are often destroyed in one year the works of many
years' peace. So that we may hope the luxury of a few merchants on the
coast will not be the ruin of America.

One reflection more, and I will end this long, rambling letter. Almost
all the parts of our bodies require some expense. The feet demand shoes;
the legs stockings; and the rest of the body clothing; and the belly a
good deal of victuals. Our eyes, though exceedingly useful, ask, when
reasonable, only the cheap assistance of spectacles, which could not
much impair our finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes that
ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should want neither fine
clothes, fine houses, nor fine furniture.

* * * * *

ON TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD.

Veritas luce clarior.[3]

[3] Truth is brighter than light.

A friend of mine was the other day cheapening some trifles at a
shopkeeper's, and after a few words they agreed on a price. At the tying
up of the parcels he had purchased, the mistress of the shop told him
that people were growing very hard, for she actually lost by everything
she sold. How, then, is it possible, said my friend, that you can keep
on your business? Indeed, sir, answered she, I must of necessity shut my
doors, had I not a very great trade. The reason, said my friend (with a
sneer), is admirable.

There are a great many retailers who falsely imagine that being
_historical_ (the modern phrase for lying) is much for their advantage;
and some of them have a saying, _that it is a pity lying is a sin, it is
so useful in trade_; though if they would examine into the reason why a
number of shopkeepers raise considerable estates, while others who have
set out with better fortunes have become bankrupts, they would find that
the former made up with truth, diligence, and probity, what they were
deficient of in stock; while the latter have been found guilty of
imposing on such customers as they found had no skill in the quality of
their goods.

The former character raises a credit which supplies the want of fortune,
and their fair dealing brings them customers; whereas none will return
to buy of him by whom he has been once imposed upon. If people in trade
would judge rightly, we might buy blindfolded, and they would save, both
to themselves and customers, the unpleasantness of _haggling_.

Though there are numbers of shopkeepers who scorn the mean vice of
lying, and whose word may very safely be relied on, yet there are too
many who will endeavour, and backing their falsities with asseverations,
pawn their salvation to raise their prices.

As example works more than precept, and my sole view being the good and
interest of my countrymen, whom I could wish to see without any vice or
folly, I shall offer an example of the veneration bestowed on truth and
abhorrence of falsehood among the ancients.

Augustus, triumphing over Mark Antony and Cleopatra, among other
captives who accompanied them, brought to Rome a priest of about sixty
years old; the senate being informed that this man had never been
detected in a falsehood, and was believed never to have told a lie, not
only restored him to liberty, but made him a high priest, and caused a
statue to be erected to his honour. The priest thus honoured was an
Egyptian, and an enemy to Rome, but his virtue removed all obstacles.

Pamphilius was a Roman citizen, whose body upon his death was forbidden
sepulture, his estate was confiscated, his house razed, and his wife and
children banished the Roman territories, wholly for his having been a
notorious and inveterate liar.

Could there be greater demonstrations of respect for truth than these of
the Romans, who elevated an enemy to the greatest honours, and exposed
the family of a citizen to the greatest contumely?

There can be no excuse for lying, neither is there anything equally
despicable and dangerous as a liar, no man being safe who associates
with him; for _he who will lie will swear to it_, says the proverb; and
such a one may endanger my life, turn my family out of doors, and ruin
my reputation, whenever he shall find it his interest; and if a man will
lie and swear to it in his shop to obtain a trifle, why should we doubt
his doing so when he may hope to make a fortune by his perjury? The
crime is in itself so mean, that to call a man a liar is esteemed
everywhere an affront not to be forgiven.

If any have lenity enough to allow the dealers an excuse for this bad
practice, I believe they will allow none for the gentleman who is
addicted to this vice; and must look upon him with contempt. That the
world does so, is visible by the derision with which his name is treated
whenever it is mentioned.

The philosopher Epimenides gave the Rhodians this description of Truth.
She is the companion of the gods, the joy of heaven, the light of the
earth, the pedestal of justice, and the basis of good policy.

Eschines told the same people, that truth was a virtue without which
force was enfeebled, justice corrupted; humility became dissimulation,
patience intolerable, chastity a dissembler, liberty lost, and pity
superfluous.

Pharmanes the philosopher told the Romans that truth was the centre on
which all things rested: a chart to sail by, a remedy for all evils, and
a light to the whole world.

Anaxarchus, speaking of truth, said it was health incapable of sickness,
life not subject to death, an elixir that healeth all, a sun not to be
obscured, a moon without eclipse, an herb which never withereth, a gate
that is never closed, and a path which never fatigues the traveller.

But if we are blind to the beauties of truth, it is astonishing that we
should not open our eyes to the inconvenience of falsity. A man given to
romance must be always on his guard, for fear of contradicting and
exposing himself to derision; for the most _historical_ would avoid
the odious character, though it is impossible, with the utmost
circumspection, to travel long on this route without detection, and
shame and confusion follow. Whereas he who is a votary of truth never
hesitates for an answer, has never to rack his invention to make the
sequel quadrate with the beginning of his story, nor obliged to burden
his memory with minute circumstances, since truth speaks easily what it
recollects, and repeats openly and frequently without varying facts,
which liars cannot always do, even though gifted with a good memory.

* * * * *

NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE THAT WOULD BE RICH.

Written Anno 1736.

The use of money is all the advantage there is in having money.

For six pounds a year you may have the use of one hundred pounds,
provided you are a man of known prudence and honesty.

He that spends a groat a day idly, spends idly above six pounds a year,
which is the price for the use of one hundred pounds.

He that wastes idly a groat's worth of his time per day, one day with
another, wastes the privilege of using one hundred pounds each day.

He that idly loses five shillings' worth of time, loses five shillings,
and might as prudently throw five shillings into the sea.

He that loses five shillings, not only loses that sum, but all the
advantage that might be made by turning it in dealing, which, by the
time that a young man becomes old, will amount to a considerable sum of
money.

Again: he that sells upon credit, asks a price for what he sells
equivalent to the principal and interest of his money for the time he
is to be kept out of it; therefore, he that buys upon credit pays
interest for what he buys, and he that pays ready money might let that
money out to use: so that he that possesses anything he bought, pays
interest for the use of it.

Yet, in buying goods, it is best to pay ready money, because he that
sells upon credit expects to lose five per cent. by bad debts; therefore
he charges, on all he sells upon credit, an advance that shall make up
that deficiency.

Those who pay for what they buy upon credit, pay their share of this
advance.

He that pays ready money escapes, or may escape, that charge.

A penny saved is twopence clear,
A pin a day's a groat a year.

* * * * *

THE WAY TO MAKE MONEY PLENTY IN EVERY MAN'S POCKET.

At this time, when the general complaint is that "money is scarce," it
will be an act of kindness to inform the moneyless how they may
re-enforce their pockets. I will acquaint them with the true secret of
money-catching, the certain way to fill empty purses, and how to keep
them always full. Two simple rules, well observed, will do the business.

First, let honesty and industry be thy constant companions; and,

Secondly, spend one penny less than thy clear gains.

Then shall thy hidebound pocket soon begin to thrive, and will never
again cry with the empty bellyache: neither will creditors insult thee,
nor want oppress, nor hunger bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. The whole
hemisphere will shine brighter, and pleasure spring up in every corner
of thy heart. Now, therefore, embrace these rules and be happy. Banish
the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind and live independent. Then shalt
thou be a man and not hide thy face at the approach of the rich nor
suffer the pain of feeling little when the sons of fortune walk at thy
right hand: for independence, whether with little or much, is good
fortune and placeth thee on even ground with the proudest of the golden
fleece. Oh, then, be wise, and let industry walk with thee in the
morning, and attend thee until thou reachest the evening hour for rest.
Let honesty be as the breath of thy soul, and never forget to have a
penny when all thy expenses are enumerated and paid: then shalt thou
reach the point of happiness, and independence shall be thy shield and
buckler, thy helmet and crown; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor
stoop to the silken wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse
because the hand which offers it wears a ring set with diamonds.

* * * * *

THE HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG.

There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with equal degrees of
health and wealth, and the other comforts of life, become, the one happy
and the other miserable. This arises very much from the different views
in which they consider things, persons, and events, and the effect of
those different views upon their own minds.

In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find conveniences and
inconveniences; in whatever company, they may find persons and
conversation more or less pleasing; at whatever table, they may meet
with meats and drinks of better and worse taste, dishes better and worse
dressed; in whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather; under
whatever government, they may find good and bad laws, and good and bad
administration of those laws; in whatever poem or work of genius, they
may see faults and beauties; in almost every face and every person, they
may discover fine features and defects, good and bad qualities.

Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people above mentioned fix
their attention, those who are disposed to be happy on the conveniences
of things, the pleasant parts of conversation, the well-dressed dishes,
the goodness of the wines, the fine weather, &c., and enjoy all with
cheerfulness. Those who are to be unhappy, think and speak only of the
contraries. Hence they are continually discontented themselves, and by
their remarks sour the pleasures of society, offend personally many
people, and make themselves everywhere disagreeable. If this turn of
mind was founded in nature, such unhappy persons would be the more to be
pitied. But as the disposition to criticise and to be disgusted is,
perhaps, taken up originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into
a habit, which, though at present strong, may nevertheless be cured;
when those who have it are convinced of its bad effects on their
felicity, I hope this little admonition may be of service to them, and
put them on changing a habit which, though in the exercise it is chiefly
an act of imagination, yet has serious consequences in life, as it
brings on real griefs and misfortunes. For, as many are offended by, and
nobody loves this sort of people, no one shows them more than the most
common civility and respect, and scarcely that; and this frequently puts
them out of humour, and draws them into disputes and contentions. If
they aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wishes
them success, or will stir a step or speak a word to favour their
pretensions. If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will
defend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, and
render them completely odious. If these people will not change this bad
habit, and condescend to be pleased with what is pleasing, without
fretting themselves and others about the contraries, it is good for
others to avoid an acquaintance with them, which is always disagreeable,
and sometimes very inconvenient, especially when one finds one's self
entangled in their quarrels.

An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from experience, very
cautious in this particular, and carefully avoided any intimacy with
such people. He had, like other philosophers, a thermometer to show him
the heat of the weather, and a barometer to mark when it was likely to
prove good or bad; but there being no instrument invented to discover,
at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he for that
purpose made use of his legs; one of which was remarkably handsome, the
other, by some accident, crooked and deformed. If a stranger, at the
first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than his handsome one, he
doubted him. If he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg,
that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no farther
acquaintance with him. Everybody has not this two-legged instrument; but
every one, with a little attention, may observe signs of that carping,
fault-finding disposition, and take the same resolution of avoiding the
acquaintance of those infected with it. I therefore advise those
critical, querulous, discontented, unhappy people, that, if they wish to
be respected and beloved by others and happy in themselves, they should
_leave off looking at the ugly leg_.

* * * * *

ON HUMAN VANITY.

Mr. Franklin, Meeting with the following curious little piece the other
day, I send it to you to republish, as it is now in very few hands.
There is something so elegant in the imagination, conveyed in so
delicate a style, and accompanied with a moral so just and elevated,
that it must yield great pleasure and instruction to every mind of real
taste and virtue.

_Cicero_, in the first of his Tusculan questions, finely exposes the
vain judgment we are apt to form of human life compared with eternity.
In illustrating this argument, he quotes a passage of natural history
from Aristotle, concerning a species of insects on the banks of the
river Hypanis, that never outlive the day in which they are born.

To pursue the thought of this elegant writer, let us suppose one of the
most robust of these _Hypanians_, so famed in history, was in a manner
coeval with time itself; that he began to exist at break of day, and
that, from the uncommon strength of his constitution, he has been able
to show himself active in life, through the numberless minutes of ten or
twelve hours. Through so long a series of seconds, he must have acquired
vast wisdom in his way, from observation and experience.

He looks upon his fellow-creatures who died about noon to be happily
delivered from the many inconveniences of old age; and can, perhaps,
recount to his great grandson a surprising tradition of actions before
any records of their nation were extant. The young swarm of Hypanians,
who may be advanced one hour in life, approach his person with respect,
and listen to his improving discourse. Everything he says will seem
wonderful to their short lived generation. The compass of a day will be
esteemed the whole duration of time; and the first dawn of light will,
in their chronology, be styled the great era of their creation.

Let us now suppose this venerable insect, this _Nestor_ of _Hypania_,
should, a little before his death, and about sunset, send for all his
descendants, his friends and his acquaintances, out of the desire he may
have to impart his last thoughts to them, and to admonish them with his
departing breath. They meet, perhaps, under the spacious shelter of a
mushroom, and the dying sage addresses himself to them after the
following manner:

"Friends and fellow-citizens! I perceive the longest life must, however,
end: the period of mine is now at hand; neither do I repine at my fate,
since my great age has become a burden to me, and there is nothing new
to me under the sun: the changes and revolutions I have seen in my
country, the manifold private misfortunes to which we are all liable,
the fatal diseases incident to our race, have abundantly taught me this
lesson, that no happiness can be secure and lasting which is placed in
things that are out of our power. Great is the uncertainty of life! A
whole brood of our infants have perished in a moment by a keen blast!
Shoals of our straggling youth have been swept into the ocean by an
unexpected breeze! What wasteful desolation have we not suffered from
the deluge of a sudden shower! Our strongest holds are not proof against
a storm of hail, and even a dark cloud damps the very stoutest heart.

"I have lived in the first ages, and conversed with insects of a larger
size and stronger make, and, I must add, of greater virtue than any can
boast of in the present generation. I must conjure you to give yet
further credit to my latest words, when I assure you that yonder sun,
which now appears westward, beyond the water, and seems not to be far
distant from the earth, in my remembrance stood in the middle of the
sky, and shot his beams directly down upon us. The world was much more
enlightened in those ages, and the air much warmer. Think it not dotage
in me if I affirm that glorious being moves: I saw his first setting out
in the east, and I began my race of life near the time when he began his
immense career. He has for several ages advanced along the sky with vast
heat and unparalleled brightness; but now, by his declination and a
sensible decay, more especially of late, in his vigour, I foresee that
all nature must fall in a little time, and that the creation will lie
buried in darkness in less than a century of minutes.

"Alas! my friends, how did I once flatter myself with the hopes of
abiding here forever! how magnificent are the cells which I hollowed out
for myself! what confidence did I repose in the firmness and spring of
my joints, and in the strength of my pinions! _But I have lived long
enough to nature, and even to glory._ Neither will any of you, whom I
leave behind, have equal satisfaction in life, in the dark declining age
which I see is already begun."

Thus far this agreeable unknown writer--too agreeable, we may hope, to
remain always concealed. The fine allusion to the character of _Julius
Cæsar_, whose words he has put into the mouth of this illustrious son of
_Hypanis_, is perfectly just and beautiful, and aptly points out the
moral of this inimitable piece, the design of which would have been
quite perverted, had a virtuous character, a _Cato_ or a _Cicero_, been
made choice of to have been turned into ridicule. Had this _life of a
day_ been represented as employed in the exercise of virtue, it would
have an equal dignity with a life of any limited duration, and,
according to the exalted sentiments of Tully, would have been preferable
to an immortality filled with all the pleasures of sense, if void of
those of a higher kind: but as the views of this vainglorious insect
were confined within the narrow circle of his own existence, as he only
boasts the magnificent cells he has built and the length of happiness he
has enjoyed, he is the proper emblem of all such insects of the human
race, whose ambition does not extend beyond the like narrow limits; and
notwithstanding the splendour they appear in at present, they will no
more deserve the regard of posterity than the butterflies of the last
spring. In vain has history been taken up in describing the numerous
swarms of this mischievous species which has infested the earth in the
successive ages: now it is worth the inquiry of the virtuous, whether
the _Rhine_ or the _Adige_ may not, perhaps, swarm with them at present,
as much as the banks of the _Hypanis_; or whether that silver rivulet,
the _Thames_, may not show a specious molehill, covered with inhabitants
of the like dignity and importance. The busy race of beings attached to
these fleeting enjoyments are indeed all of them engaged in the pursuit
of happiness, and it is owing to their imperfect notions of it that they
stop so far short in their pursuit. The present prospect of pleasure
seems to bound their views, and the more distant scenes of happiness,
when what they now propose shall be attained, do not strike their
imagination. It is a great stupidity or thoughtlessness not to perceive
that the happiness of rational creatures is inseparably connected with
immortality. Creatures only endowed with sensation may in a low sense be
reputed happy, so long as their sensations are pleasing; and if these
pleasing sensations are commensurate with the time of their existence,
this measure of happiness is complete. But such beings as are endowed
with _thought_ and _reflection_ cannot be made happy by any limited term
of happiness, how great soever its duration may be. The more exquisite
and more valuable their enjoyments are, the more painful must be the
thought that they are to have an end; and this pain of expectation must
be continually increasing, the nearer the end approaches. And if these
beings are themselves immortal, and yet insecure of the continuance of
their happiness, the case is far worse, since an eternal void of
delight, if not to say a state of misery, must succeed. It would be here
of no moment, whether the time of their happiness were measured by
_days_ or _hours_, by _months_ or _years_, or by _periods_ of the most
immeasurable length: these swiftly-flowing streams bear no proportion to
that ocean of infinity where they must finish their course. The longest
duration of finite happiness avails nothing when it is past: nor can the
memory of it have any other effect than to renew a perpetual pining
after pleasures never to return; and since virtue is the only pledge and
security of a happy immortality, the folly of sacrificing it to any
temporal advantage, how important soever they may appear, must be
infinitely great, and cannot but leave behind it an eternal regret.

* * * * *

ON SMUGGLING, AND ITS VARIOUS SPECIES.

Sir,--There are many people that would be thought, and even think
themselves, _honest_ men, who fail nevertheless in particular points of
honesty; deviating from that character sometimes by the prevalence of
mode or custom, and sometimes through mere inattention, so that their
_honesty_ is partial only, and not _general_ or universal. Thus one who
would scorn to overreach you in a bargain, shall make no scruple of
tricking you a little now and then at cards: another, that plays with
the utmost fairness, shall with great freedom cheat you in the sale of
a horse. But there is no kind of dishonesty into which otherwise good
people more easily and frequently fall, than that of defrauding
government of its revenues by smuggling when they have an opportunity,
or encouraging smugglers by buying their goods.

I fell into these reflections the other day, on hearing two gentlemen of
reputation discoursing about a small estate, which one of them was
inclined to sell and the other to buy; when the seller, in recommending
the place, remarked, that its situation was very advantageous on this
account, that, being on the seacoast in a smuggling country, one had
frequent opportunities of buying many of the expensive articles used in
a family (such as tea, coffee, chocolate, brandy, wines, cambrics,
Brussels laces, French silks, and all kinds of India goods) 20, 30, and,
in some articles, 50 _per cent._ cheaper than they could be had in the
more interior parts, of traders that paid duty. The other _honest_
gentleman allowed this to be an advantage, but insisted that the seller,
in the advanced price he demanded on that account, rated the advantage
much above its value. And neither of them seemed to think dealing with
smugglers a practice that an _honest_ man (provided he got his goods
cheap) had the least reason to be ashamed of.

At a time when the load of our public debt, and the heavy expense of
maintaining our fleets and armies to be ready for our defence on
occasion, makes it necessary not only to continue old taxes, but often
to look out for new ones, perhaps it may not be unuseful to state this
matter in a light that few seem to have considered it in.

The people of Great Britain, under the happy constitution of this
country, have a privilege few other countries enjoy, that of choosing
the third branch of the legislature, which branch has alone the power of
regulating their taxes. Now, whenever the government finds it necessary
for the common benefit, advantage, and safety of the nation, for the
security of our liberties, property, religion, and everything that is
dear to us, that certain sums shall be yearly raised by taxes, duties,
&c., and paid into the public treasury, thence to be dispensed by
government for those purposes, ought not every _honest man_ freely and
willingly to pay his just proportion of this necessary expense? Can he
possibly preserve a right to that character, if by fraud, stratagem, or
contrivance, he avoids that payment in whole or in part?

What should we think of a companion who, having supped with his friends
at a tavern, and partaken equally of the joys of the evening with the
rest of us, would nevertheless contrive by some artifice to shift his
share of the reckoning upon others, in order to go off scot-free? If a
man who practised this would, when detected, be deemed and called a
scoundrel, what ought he to be called who can enjoy all the inestimable
benefits of public society, and yet, by smuggling or dealing with
smugglers, contrive to evade paying his just share of the expense, as
settled by his own representatives in parliament, and wrongfully throw
it upon his honest and, perhaps, much poorer neighbours? He will,
perhaps, be ready to tell me that he does not wrong his neighbours; he
scorns the imputation; he only cheats the king a little, who is very
able to bear it. This, however, is a mistake. The public treasure is the
treasure of the nation, to be applied to national purposes. And when a
duty is laid for a particular public and necessary purpose, if, through
smuggling, that duty falls short of raising the sum required, and other
duties must therefore be laid to make up the deficiency, all the
additional sum laid by the new duties and paid by other people, though
it should amount to no more than a halfpenny or a farthing per head, is
so much actually picked out of the pockets of those other people by the
smugglers and their abettors and encouragers. Are they, then, any better
or other than pickpockets? and what mean, low, rascally pickpockets must
those be that can pick pockets for halfpence and for farthings?

I would not, however, be supposed to allow, in what I have just said,
that cheating the king is a less offence against honesty than cheating
the public. The king and the public, in this case, are different names
for the same thing; but if we consider the king distinctly it will not
lessen the crime: it is no justification of a robbery, that the person
robbed was rich and able to bear it. The king has as much right to
justice as the meanest of his subjects; and as he is truly the common
_father_ of his people, those that rob him fall under the Scripture we
pronounced against the son _that robbeth his father and saith it is no
sin_.

Mean as this practice is, do we not daily see people of character and
fortune engaged in it for trifling advantages to themselves? Is any lady
ashamed to request of a gentleman of her acquaintance, that, when he
returns from abroad, he would smuggle her home a piece of silk or lace
from France or Flanders? Is any gentleman ashamed to undertake and
execute the commission? Not in the least. They will talk of it freely,
even before others whose pockets they are thus contriving to pick by
this piece of knavery.

Among other branches of the revenue, that of the post office is, by a
late law, appropriated to the discharge of our public debt, to defray
the expenses of the state. None but members of parliament and a few
public officers have now a right to avoid, by a frank, the payment of
postage. When any letter, not written by them or on their business, is
franked by any of them, it is a hurt to the revenue, an injury which
they must now take the pains to conceal by writing the whole
superscription themselves. And yet such is our insensibility to justice
in this particular, that nothing is more common than to see, even in a
reputable company, a _very honest_ gentleman or lady declare his or her
intention to cheat the nation of threepence by a frank, and, without
blushing, apply to one of the very legislators themselves, with a modest
request that he would be pleased to become an accomplice in the crime
and assist in the perpetration.

There are those who, by these practices, take a great deal in a year out
of the public purse, and put the money into their own private pockets.
If, passing through a room where public treasure is deposited, a man
takes the opportunity of clandestinely pocketing and carrying off a
guinea, is he not truly and properly a thief? And if another evades
paying into the treasury a guinea he ought to pay in, and applies it to
his own use, when he knows it belongs to the public as much as that
which has been paid in, what difference is there in the nature of the
crime or the baseness of committing it?

* * * * *

REMARKS CONCERNING THE SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA.

Savages we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we
think the perfection of civility; they think the same of theirs.

Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different nations with
impartiality, we should find no people so rude as to be without any
rules of politeness, nor any so polite as not to have some remains of
rudeness.

The Indian men, when young, are hunters and warriors; when old,
counsellors; for all their government is by the council or advice of the
sages. There is no force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel
obedience or inflict punishment. Hence they generally study oratory, the
best speaker having the most influence. The Indian women till the
ground, dress the food, nurse and bring up the children, and preserve
and hand down to posterity the memory of public transactions. These
employments of men and women are accounted natural and honourable.
Having few artificial wants, they have abundance of leisure for
improvement by conversation. Our laborious manner of life, compared with
theirs, they esteem slavish and base; and the learning on which we value
ourselves, they regard as frivolous and useless. An instance of this
occurred at the treaty of Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, anno 1744, between
the government of Virginia and the Six Nations. After the principal
business was settled, the commissioners from Virginia acquainted the
Indians, by a speech, that there was at Williamsburgh a college, with a
fund for educating Indian youth; and that, if the chiefs of the Six
Nations would send down half a dozen of their sons to that college, the
government would take care that they should be well provided for, and
instructed in all the learning of the white people. It is one of the
Indian rules of politeness not to answer a public proposition the same
day that it is made; they think it would be treating it as a light
matter, and that they show it respect by taking time to consider it, as
of a matter important. They therefore deferred their answer till the day
following, when their speaker began by expressing their deep sense of
the kindness of the Virginia government in making them that offer; "for
we know," says he, "that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught
in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with
you, would be very expensive to you. We are convinced, therefore, that
you mean to do us good by your proposal; and we thank you heartily. But
you, who are wise, must know that different nations have different
conceptions of things; and you will therefore not take it amiss if our
ideas of this kind of education happen not to be the same with yours. We
have had some experience of it: several of our young people were
formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces; they were
instructed in all your sciences; but when they came back to us, they
were bad runners, ignorant of every means of living in the woods, unable
to bear either cold or hunger, knew neither how to build a cabin, take a
deer, nor kill an enemy, spoke our language imperfectly, were therefore
neither fit for hunters, warriors, nor counsellors; they were totally
good for nothing. We are, however, not the less obliged by your kind
offer, though we decline accepting it; and, to show our grateful sense
of it, if the gentlemen of Virginia will send us a dozen of their sons,
we will take great care of their education, instruct them in all we
know, and make _men_ of them."

Having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired
great order and decency in conducting them. The old men sit in the
foremost ranks, the warriors in the next, and the women and children in
the hindmost. The business of the women is to take exact notice of what
passes, imprint it in their memories, for they have no writing, and
communicate it to their children. They are the records of the council,
and they preserve the tradition of the stipulations in treaties a
hundred years back; which, when we compare with our writings, we always
find exact. He that would speak, rises. The rest observe a profound
silence. When he has finished and sits down, they leave him five or six
minutes to recollect, that, if he has omitted anything he intended to
say, or has anything to add, he may rise again and deliver it. To
interrupt another, even in common conversation, is reckoned highly
indecent. How different this is from the conduct of a polite British
House of Commons, where scarce a day passes without some confusion that
makes the speaker hoarse in calling _to order_; and how different from
the mode of conversation in many polite companies of Europe, where, if
you do not deliver your sentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in
the middle of it by the impatient loquacity of those you converse with,
and never suffered to finish it!

The politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed carried to
excess, since it does not permit them to contradict or deny the truth of
what is asserted in their presence. By this means they indeed avoid
disputes, but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what
impression you make upon them. The missionaries who have attempted to
convert them to Christianity all complain of this as one of the great
difficulties of their mission. The Indians hear with patience the truths
of the gospel explained to them, and give their usual tokens of assent
and approbation: you would think they were convinced. No such matter. It
is mere civility.

A Swedish minister, having assembled the chiefs of the Susquehanna
Indians, made a sermon to them, acquainting them with the principal
historical facts on which our religion is founded; such as the fall of
our first parents by eating an apple; the coming of Christ to repair the
mischief; his miracles and sufferings, &c. When he had finished, an
Indian orator stood up to thank him. "What you have told us," says he,
"is all very good. We are much obliged by your kindness in coming so far
to tell us those things which you have heard from your mothers. In
return, I will tell you some of those we have heard from ours.

"In the beginning, our fathers had only the flesh of animals to subsist
on, and if their hunting was unsuccessful, they were starving. Two of
our young hunters, having killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to
broil some parts of it. When they were about to satisfy their hunger,
they beheld a beautiful young woman descend from the clouds, and seat
herself on that hill which you see yonder among the Blue Mountains. They
said to each other, it is a spirit that perhaps has smelt our broiling
venison, and wishes to eat of it: let us offer some to her. They
presented her with the tongue: she was pleased with the taste of it, and
said, Your kindness shall be rewarded; come to this place after thirteen
moons, and you shall find something that will be of great benefit in
nourishing you and your children to the latest generations. They did so,
and, to their surprise, found plants they had never seen before, but
which, from that ancient time, have been constantly cultivated among us,
to our great advantage. Where her right hand had touched the ground,
they found maize; where her left hand had touched it, they found
kidney-beans; and where she had sat on it, they found tobacco." The good
missionary, disgusted with this idle tale, said, "What I delivered to
you were sacred truths, but what you tell me is mere fable, fiction, and
falsehood." The Indian, offended, replied, "My brother, it seems your
friends have not done you justice in your education; they have not well
instructed you in the rules of common civility. You saw that we, who
understand and practise those rules, believed all your stories; why do
you refuse to believe ours?"

When any of them come into our towns, our people are apt to crowd around
them, gaze upon them, and incommode them where they desire to be
private; this they esteem great rudeness, and the effect of the want of
instruction in the rules of civility and good manners. "We have," say
they "as much curiosity as you; and when you come into our towns, we
wish for opportunities of looking at you; but for this purpose, we hide
ourselves behind bushes, where you are to pass, and never intrude
ourselves into your company."

Their manner of entering one another's villages has likewise its rules.
It is reckoned uncivil in travelling strangers to enter a village
abruptly, without giving notice of their approach. Therefore, as soon as
they arrive within hearing, they stop and halloo, remaining there till
invited to enter. Two old men usually come out to them and lead them in.
There is in every village a vacant dwelling called the strangers' house.
Here they are placed, while the old men go round from hut to hut,
acquainting the inhabitants that strangers are arrived, who are probably
hungry and weary; and every one sends them what he can spare of
victuals, and skins to repose on. When the strangers are refreshed,
pipes and tobacco are brought, and then, but not before, conversation
begins, with inquiries who they are, whither bound, what news, &c, and
it usually ends with offers of service if the strangers have occasion
for guides, or any necessaries for continuing their journey; and nothing
is exacted for the entertainment.

* * * * *

ON FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND THE PRESS.

Freedom of speech is a principal pillar of a free government: when this
support is taken away, the constitution of a free society is dissolved,
and tyranny is erected on its ruins. Republics and limited monarchies
derive their strength and vigour from a popular examination into the
actions of the magistrates; this privilege, in all ages, has been, and
always will be, abused. The best of men could not escape the censure and
envy of the times they lived in. Yet this evil is not so great as it may
appear at first sight. A magistrate who sincerely aims at the good of
society will always have the inclinations of a great majority on his
side, and an impartial posterity will not fail to render him justice.

Those abuses of the freedom of speech are the exercises of liberty. They
ought to be repressed; but to whom dare we commit the care of doing it?
An evil magistrate, intrusted with power to _punish for words_, would be
armed with a weapon the most destructive and terrible. Under pretence of
pruning off the exuberant branches, he would be apt to destroy the tree.

It is certain that he who robs another of his moral reputation, more
richly merits a gibbet than if he had plundered him of his purse on the
highway. _Augustus Cæsar_, under the specious pretext of preserving the
character of the Romans from defamation, introduced the law whereby
libelling was involved in the penalties of treason against the state.
This law established his tyranny; and for one mischief which it
prevented, ten thousand evils, horrible and afflicting, sprung up in its
place. Thenceforward every person's life and fortune depended on the
vile breath of informers. The construction of words being arbitrary, and
left to the decision of the judges, no man could write or open his mouth
without being in danger of forfeiting his head.

One was put to death for inserting in his history the praises of Brutus.
Another for styling Cassius the last of the Romans. Caligula valued
himself for being a notable dancer; and to deny that he excelled in that
manly accomplishment was high treason. This emperor raised his horse,
the name of which was _Incitatus_, to the dignity of consul; and though
history is silent, I do not question but it was a capital crime to show
the least contempt for that high officer of state! Suppose, then, any
one had called the prime minister a _stupid animal_, the emperor's
council might argue that the malice of the libel was the more aggravated
by its being true, and, consequently, more likely to excite the _family
of this illustrious magistrate_ to a breach of the peace or to acts of
revenge. Such a prosecution would to us appear ridiculous; yet, if we
may rely upon tradition, there have been formerly proconsuls in America,
though of more malicious dispositions, hardly superior in understanding
to the consul _Incitatus_, and who would have thought themselves
libelled to be called by their _proper names_.

_Nero_ piqued himself on his fine voice and skill in music: no doubt a
laudable ambition! He performed in public, and carried the prize of
excellence. It was afterward resolved by all the judges as good law,
that whosoever would _insinuate_ the least doubt of Nero's pre-eminence
in the _noble art of fiddling_ ought to be deemed a traitor to the
state.

By the help of inferences and innuendoes, treasons multiplied in a
prodigious manner. Grief was treason: a lady of noble birth was put to
death for bewailing the death of her _murdered son_: silence was
declared an _overt act_ to prove the treasonable purposes of the heart:
looks were construed into treason: a serene, open aspect was an evidence
that the person was pleased with the calamities that befel the emperor:
a severe, thoughtful countenance was urged against the man that wore it
as a proof of his plotting against the state: _dreams_ were often made
capital offences. A new species of informers went about Rome,
insinuating themselves into all companies to fish out their dreams,
which the priests (oh nefarious wickedness!) interpreted into high
treason. The Romans were so terrified by this strange method of
juridical and penal process, that, far from discovering their dreams,
they durst not own that they slept. In this terrible situation, when
every one had so much cause to fear, even _fear_ itself was made a
crime. Caligula, when he put his brother to death, gave it as a reason
to the Senate that the youth was afraid of being murdered. To be eminent
in any virtue, either civil or military, was the greatest crime a man
could be guilty of. _O virtutes certissemum exitium._[4]

[4] Oh virtue! the most certain ruin.

These were some of the effects of the Roman law against libelling: those
of the British kings that aimed at despotic power or the oppression of
the subject, continually encouraged prosecutions for words.

Henry VII., a prince mighty in politics, procured that act to be passed
whereby the jurisdiction of the Star Chamber was confirmed and extended.
Afterward Empson and Dudley, two voracious dogs of prey, under the
protection of this high court, exercised the most merciless acts of
oppression. The subjects were terrified from uttering their griefs while
they saw the thunder of the Star Chamber pointed at their heads. This
caution, however, could not prevent several dangerous tumults and
insurrections; for when the tongues of the people are restrained, they
commonly discharge their resentments by a more dangerous organ, and
break out into open acts of violence.

During the reign of Henry VIII., a high-spirited monarch! every light
expression which happened to displease him was construed by his supple
judges into a libel, and sometimes extended to high treason. When Queen
Mary, of cruel memory, ascended the throne, the Parliament, in order to
raise a _fence_ against the violent prosecutions for words, which had
rendered the lives, liberties, and properties of all men precarious,
and, perhaps, dreading the furious persecuting spirit of this princess,
passed an act whereby it was declared, "That if a libeller doth go so
high as to libel against king or queen by denunciation, the judges shall
lay no greater fine on him than one hundred pounds, with two months'
imprisonment, and no corporeal punishment: neither was this sentence to
be passed on him except the accusation was fully proved by two
witnesses, who were to produce a certificate of their good demeanour for
the credit of their report."

This act was confirmed by another, in the seventh year of the reign of
Queen Elizabeth; only the penalties were heightened to two hundred
pounds and three months' imprisonment. Notwithstanding she rarely
punished invectives, though the malice of the papists was indefatigable
in blackening the brightest characters with the most impudent
falsehoods, she was often heard to applaud that rescript of
_Theodosius_. If any person spoke ill of the emperor through a foolish
rashness and inadvertence, it is to be despised; if out of madness, it
deserves pity; if from malice and aversion, it calls for mercy.

Her successor, King James I., was a prince of a quite different genius
and disposition; he used to say, that while he had the power of making
judges and bishops, _he could have what law and gospel he pleased_.
Accordingly, he filled those places with such as prostituted their
professions to his notions of prerogative. Among this number, and I hope
it is no discredit to the profession of the law, its great oracle, _Sir
Edward Coke_, appears. The Star Chamber, which in the time of Elizabeth
had gained a good repute, became an intolerable grievance in the reign
of this _learned monarch_.

But it did not arrive at its meridian altitude till Charles I. began to
wield the sceptre. As he had formed a design to lay aside parliaments
and subvert the popular part of the constitution, he very well knew
that the form of government could not be altered without laying a
restraint on freedom of speech and the liberty of the press: therefore
he issued his royal mandate, under the great seal of England, whereby he
commanded his subjects, under pain of his displeasure, not to prescribe
to him any time for parliaments. Lord Clarendon, upon this occasion, is
pleased to write, "That all men took themselves to be prohibited, under
the penalty of censure (the censure of the Star Chamber), which few men
cared to incur, so much as to speak of parliaments, or so much as to
mention that parliaments were again to be called."

The king's ministers, to let the nation see they were absolutely
determined to suppress all freedom of speech, caused a prosecution to be
carried on by the attorney general against three members of the House of
Commons, for words spoken in that house, Anno 1628. The members pleaded
to the information, that expressions in parliament ought only to be
examined and punished there. This notwithstanding, _they were all three
condemned as disturbers of the state_; one of these gentlemen, Sir John
Eliot, was fined two thousand pounds, and sentenced to lie in prison
till it was paid. His lady was denied admittance to him, even during his
sickness; consequently, his punishment comprehended an additional
sentence of divorce. This patriot, having endured many years
imprisonment, sunk under the oppression, and died in prison: this was
such a wound to the authority and rights of Parliament that, even after
the restoration, the judgment was revered by Parliament.

That Englishmen of all ranks might be effectually intimidated from
publishing their thoughts on any subject, except on the side of the
court, his majesty's ministers caused an information, for several
libels, to be exhibited in the Star Chamber against Messrs. _Prynn_,
_Burton_, and _Bastwick_. They were each of them fined five thousand
pounds, and adjudged to lose their ears on the pillory, to be branded on
the cheeks with hot irons, and to suffer perpetual imprisonment! Thus
these three gentlemen, each of worth and quality in their several
professions, viz., divinity, law, and physic, were, for no other offence
than writing on controverted points of church government, exposed on
public scaffolds, and stigmatized and mutilated as common signal rogues
or the most ordinary malefactors.

Such corporeal punishments, inflicted with all the circumstances of
cruelty and infamy, bound down all other gentlemen under a servile fear
of like treatment; so that, for several years, no one durst publicly
speak or write in defence of the liberties of the people; which the
king's ministers, his privy council, and his judges, had trampled under
their feet. The spirit of the administration looked hideous and
dreadful; the hate and resentment which the people conceived against it,
for a long time lay smothered in their breasts, where those passions
festered and grew venomous, and at last discharged themselves by an
armed and vindictive hand.

King Charles II. aimed at the subversion of the government, but
concealed his designs under a deep hypocrisy: a method which his
predecessor, in the beginning of his reign, scorned to make use of. The
father, who affected a high and rigid gravity, discountenanced all
barefaced immorality. The son, of a gay, luxurious disposition, openly
encouraged it: thus their inclinations being different, the restraint
laid on some authors, and the encouragement given to others, were
managed after a different manner.

In this reign a licenser was appointed for the stage and the press; no
plays were encouraged but what had a tendency to debase the minds of the
people. The original design of comedy was perverted; it appeared in all
the shocking circumstances of immodest _double entendre_, obscure
description, and lewd representation. Religion was sneered out of
countenance, and public spirit ridiculed as an awkward oldfashioned
virtue; the fine gentleman of the comedy, though embroidered over with
wit, was a consummate debauchee; and a fine lady, though set off with a
brilliant imagination, was an impudent coquette. Satire, which in the
hands of _Horace_, _Juvenal_, and _Boileau_, was pointed with a generous
resentment against vice, now became the declared foe of virtue and
innocence. As the city of London, in all ages, as well as the time we
are now speaking of, was remarkable for its opposition to arbitrary
power, the poets levelled all their artillery against the metropolis, in
order to bring the citizens into contempt: an alderman was never
introduced on the theatre but under the complicated character of a
sneaking, canting hypocrite, a miser, and a cuckold; while the
court-wits, with impunity, libelled the most valuable part of the
nation. Other writers, of a different stamp, with great learning and
gravity, endeavoured to prove to the English people that slavery was
_jure divino_.[5] Thus the stage and the press, under the direction of a
licenser, became battering engines against religion, virtue, and
liberty. Those who had courage enough to write in their defence, were
stigmatized as schismatics, and punished as disturbers of the
government.

[5] By divine right.

But when the embargo on wit was taken off, _Sir Richard Steel_ and _Mr.
Addison_ soon rescued the stage from the load of impurity it laboured
under with an inimitable address, they strongly recommended to our
imitation the most amiable, rational manly characters; and this with so
much success that I cannot suppose there is any reader to-day conversant
in the writings of those gentlemen, that can taste with any tolerable
relish the comedies of the once admired _Shadwell_. Vice was obliged to
retire and give place to virtue: this will always be the consequence
when truth has fair play: falsehood only dreads the attack, and cries
out for auxiliaries: the truth never fears the encounter: she scorns the
aid of the secular arm, and triumphs by her natural strength.

But, to resume the description of the reign of Charles II., the doctrine
of servitude was chiefly managed by _Sir Roger Lestrange_. He had great
advantages in the argument, being licenser for the press, and might have
carried all before him without contradiction, if writings on the other
side of the question had not been printed by stealth. The authors,
whenever found, were prosecuted as seditious libellers; on all these
occasions the king's counsel, particularly _Sawyer_ and _Finch_,
appeared most obsequious to accomplish the ends of the court.

During this _blessed_ management, the king had entered into a secret
league with France to render himself absolute and enslave his subjects.
This fact was discovered to the world by Dr. _Jonathan Swift_, to whom
_Sir William Temple_ had intrusted the publication of his works.

_Sidney_, the sworn foe of tyranny, was a gentleman of noble family, of
sublime understanding and exalted courage. The ministry were resolved to
remove so great an obstacle out of the way of their designs. He was
prosecuted for high treason. The overt act charged in the indictment was
a libel found in his private study. Mr. Finch, the king's own
solicitor-general, urged with great vehemence to this effect, "that the
_imagining_ the death of the king is _treason_, even while that
imagination remains concealed in the mind, though the law cannot punish
such secret treasonable thoughts till it arrives at the knowledge of
them by some overt act. That the matter of the libel composed by Sidney
was an _imagining how to compass the death of King Charles II._; and
the writing of it was an overt act of treason, for that to write was to
act. (_Scribere est agere._)" It seems that the king's counsel in this
reign had not received the same directions as Queen Elizabeth had given
hers; she told them they were to look upon themselves as not retained so
much (_pro domina regina_, as _pro domina veritate_) for the power of
the queen as for the power of truth.

Mr. Sidney made a strong and legal defence. He insisted that all the
words in the book contained no more than general speculations on the
principles of government, free for any man to write down; especially
since the same are written in the parliament rolls and in the statute
laws.

He argued on the injustice of applying by innuendoes, general assertions
concerning principles of government, as overt acts to prove the writer
was compassing the death of the king; for then no man could write of
things done even by our ancestors, in defence of the constitution and
freedom of England, without exposing himself to capital danger.

He denied that _scribere est agere_, but allowed that writing and
publishing is to act (_Scribere et publicare est agere_), and therefore
he urged that, as his book had never been published nor imparted to any
person, it could not be an overt act, within the statutes of treasons,
even admitting that it contained treasonable positions; that, on the
contrary, it was a _covert fact_, locked up in his private study, as
much concealed from the knowledge of any man as if it were locked up in
the author's mind. This was the substance of Mr. Sidney's defence: but
neither law, nor reason, nor eloquence, nor innocence ever availed where
_Jefferies_ sat as judge. Without troubling himself with any part of the
defence, he declared in a rage, that Sidney's _known principles_ were a
_sufficient_ proof of his intention to compass the death of the king.

A packed jury therefore found him guilty of high treason: great
applications were made for his pardon. He was executed as a traitor.

This case is a pregnant instance of the danger that attends a law for
punishing words, and of the little security the most valuable men have
for their lives, in that society where a judge, by remote inferences and
distant innuendoes, may construe the most innocent expressions into
capital crimes. _Sidney_, the British _Brutus_, the warm, the steady
friend of _liberty_; who, from an intrinsic love to mankind, left them
that invaluable legacy, his immortal discourses on government, was for
these very discourses murdered by the hands of lawless power. * * * *

Upon the whole, to suppress inquiries into the administration is good
policy in an arbitrary government; but a free constitution and freedom
of speech have such reciprocal dependance on each other, that they
cannot subsist without consisting together.

* * * * *

The following extracts of a letter, signed Columella, and addressed to
the editors of the British Repository for select Papers on Agriculture,
Arts, and Manufactures (see vol. i.), will prepare those who read it for
the following paper:

"GENTLEMEN,--There is now publishing in France a periodical work, called
Ephemeridis du Citoyen,[6] in which several points, interesting to those
concerned in agriculture, are from time to time discussed by some able
hands. In looking over one of the volumes of this work a few days ago, I
found a little piece written by one of our countrymen, and which our
vigilant neighbours had taken from the London Chronicle in 1766. The
author is a gentleman well known to every man of letters in Europe, and
perhaps there is none in this age to whom mankind in general are more
indebted.

[6] Citizen's Journal.

"That this piece may not be lost to our own country, I beg you will give
it a place in your Repository: it was written in favour of the farmers,
when they suffered so much abuse in our public papers, and were also
plundered by the mob in many places."

* * * * *

_To Messieurs the Public._

ON THE PRICE OF CORN, AND THE MANAGEMENT OF THE POOR.

I am one of that class of people that feeds you all, and at present
abused by you all; in short, I am a _farmer_.

By your newspapers we are told that God had sent a very short harvest to
some other countries of Europe. I thought this might be in favour of Old
England, and that now we should get a good price for our grain, which
would bring millions among us, and make us flow in money: that, to be
sure, is scarce enough.

But the wisdom of government forbade the exportation.

Well, says I, then we must be content with the market price at home.

No, say my lords the mob, you sha'n't have that. Bring your corn to
market if you dare; we'll sell it for you for less money, or take it for
nothing.

Being thus attacked by both ends _of the constitution_, the head and
tail _of government_, what am I to do?

Must I keep my corn in the barn, to feed and increase the breed of rats?
Be it so; they cannot be less thankful than those I have been used to
feed.

Are we farmers the only people to be grudged the profits of our honest
labour? And why? One of the late scribblers against us gives a bill of
fare of the provisions at my daughter's wedding, and proclaims to all
the world that we had the insolence to eat beef and pudding! Has he not
read the precept in the good book, _thou shall not muzzle the mouth of
the ox that treadeth out the corn_; or does he think us less worthy of
good living than our oxen?

Oh, but the manufacturers! the manufacturers! they are to be favoured,
and they must have bread at a cheap rate!

Hark ye, Mr. Oaf: The farmers live splendidly, you say. And, pray, would
you have them hoard the money they get? Their fine clothes and
furniture, do they make themselves or for one another, and so keep the
money among them? Or do they employ these your darling manufacturers,
and so scatter it again all over the nation?

The wool would produce me a better price if it were suffered to go to
foreign markets; but that, Messieurs the Public, your laws will not
permit. It must be kept all at home, that our _dear_ manufacturers may
have it the cheaper. And then, having yourselves thus lessened our
encouragement for raising sheep, you curse us for the scarcity of
mutton!

I have heard my grandfather say, that the farmers submitted to the
prohibition on the exportation of wool, being made to expect and believe
that, when the manufacturer bought his wool cheaper, they should also
have their cloth cheaper. But the deuse a bit. It has been growing
dearer and dearer from that day to this. How so? Why, truly, the cloth
is exported: and that keeps up the price.

Now if it be a good principle that the exportation of a commodity is to
be restrained, that so our people at home may have it the cheaper, stick
to that principle, and go thorough stitch with it. Prohibit the
exportation of your cloth, your leather and shoes, your ironware, and
your manufactures of all sorts, to make them all cheaper at home. And
cheap enough they will be, I will warrant you, till people leave off
making them.

Some folks seem to think they ought never to be easy till England
becomes another Lubberland, where it is fancied the streets are paved
with penny-rolls, the houses tiled with pancakes, and chickens, ready
roasted, cry, Come eat me.

I say, when you are sure you have got a good principle, stick to it and
carry it through. I hear it is said, that though it was _necessary and
right_ for the ministry to advise a prohibition of the exportation of
corn, yet it was _contrary to law_; and also, that though it was
_contrary to law_ for the mob to obstruct wagons, yet it was _necessary
and right_. Just the same thing to a tittle. Now they tell me an act of
indemnity ought to pass in favour of the ministry, to secure them from
the consequences of having acted illegally. If so, pass another in
favour of the mob. Others say, some of the mob ought to be hanged, by
way of example. If so--but to say no more than I have said before, _when
you are sure that you have a good principle, go through with it_.

You say poor labourers cannot afford to buy bread at a high price,
unless they had higher wages. Possibly. But how shall we farmers be able
to afford our labourers higher wages, if you will not allow us to get,
when we might have it, a higher price for our corn?

By all that I can learn, we should at least have had a guinea a quarter
more if the exportation had been allowed. And this money England would
have got from foreigners.

But, it seems, we farmers must take so much less that the poor may have
it so much cheaper.

This operates, then, as a tax for the maintenance of the poor. A very
good thing, you will say. But I ask, why a partial tax? why laid on us
farmers only? If it be a good thing, pray, Messieurs the Public, take
your share of it, by indemnifying us a little out of your public
treasury. In doing a good thing there is both honour and pleasure; you
are welcome to your share of both.

For my own part, I am not so well satisfied of the goodness of this
thing. I am for doing good to the poor, but I differ in opinion about
the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor is not making
them easy _in_ poverty, but leading or driving them _out_ of it. In my
youth I travelled much, and I observed in different countries that the
more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they provided
for themselves, and, of course, became poorer. And, on the contrary, the
less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became
richer. There is no country in the world where so many provisions are
established for them; so many hospitals to receive them when they are
sick or lame, founded and maintained by voluntary charities; so many
almshouses for the aged of both sexes, together with a solemn general
law made by the rich to subject their estates to a heavy tax for the
support of the poor. Under all these obligations, are our poor modest,
humble, and thankful? And do they use their best endeavours to maintain
themselves, and lighten our shoulders of this burden! On the contrary, I
affirm that there is no country in the world in which the poor are more
idle, dissolute, drunken, and insolent.[7] The day you passed that act
you took away from before their eyes the greatest of all inducements to
industry, frugality, and sobriety, by giving them a dependance on
somewhat else than a careful accumulation during youth and health, for
support in age or sickness. In short, you offered a premium for the
encouragement of idleness, and you should not now wonder that it has had
its effect in the increase of poverty. Repeal this law, and you will
soon see a change in their manners; _Saint Monday_ and _Saint Tuesday_
will soon cease to be holydays. Six _days shalt thou labour_, though one
of the old commandments, long treated as out of date, will again be
looked upon as a respectable precept; industry will increase, and with
it plenty among the lower people; their circumstances will mend, and
more will be done for their happiness by inuring them to provide for
themselves, than could be done by dividing all your estates among them.

[7] England in 1766

Excuse me, Messieurs the Public, if upon this _interesting_ subject I
put you to the trouble of reading a little of _my_ nonsense; I am sure I
have lately read a great deal of _yours_, and therefore, from you (at
least from those of you who are writers) I deserve a little indulgence.
I am yours, &c.

ARATOR.

* * * * *

SINGULAR CUSTOM AMONG THE AMERICANS, ENTITLED WHITEWASHING.

DEAR SIR,

My wish is to give you some account of the people of these new states;
but I am far from being qualified for the purpose, having as yet seen
but little more than the cities of New-York and Philadelphia. I have
discovered but few national singularities among them. Their customs and
manners are nearly the same with those of England, which they have long
been used to copy. For, previous to the revolution, the Americans were
from their infancy taught to look up to the English as patterns of
perfection in all things. I have observed, however, one custom, which,
for aught I know, is peculiar to this country. An account of it will
serve to fill up the remainder of this sheet, and may afford you some
amusement.

When a young couple are about to enter into the matrimonial state, a
never-failing article in the marriage treaty is, that the lady shall
have and enjoy the free and unmolested exercise of the rights of
_whitewashing_, with all its ceremonials, privileges, and appurtenances.
A young woman would forego the most advantageous connexion, and even
disappoint the warmest wish of her heart, rather than resign the
invaluable right. You would wonder what this privilege of _whitewashing_
is: I will endeavour to give you some idea of the ceremony, as I have
seen it performed.

There is no season of the year in which the lady may not claim her
privilege, if she pleases; but the latter end of May is most generally
fixed upon for the purpose. The attentive husband may judge by certain
prognostics when the storm is nigh at hand. When the lady is unusually
fretful, finds fault with the servants, is discontented with the
children, and complains much of the filthiness of everything about her,
these are signs which ought not to be neglected; yet they are not
decisive, as they sometimes come on and go off again without producing
any farther effect. But if, when the husband rises in the morning, he
should observe in the yard a wheelbarrow with a quantity of lime in it,
or should see certain buckets with lime dissolved in water, there is
then no time to be lost; he immediately locks up the apartment or closet
where his papers or his private property is kept, and, putting the key
in his pocket, betakes himself to flight, for a husband, however
beloved, becomes a perfect nuisance during the season of female rage;
his authority is superseded, his commission is suspended, and the very
scullion who cleans the brasses in the kitchen becomes of more
consideration and importance than him. He has nothing for it but to
abdicate, and run from an evil which he can neither prevent nor mollify.

The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The walls are in a few minutes
stripped of their furniture: paintings, prints, and looking-glasses lie
in a huddled heap about the floors; the curtains are torn from the
testers, the beds crammed into the windows; chairs and tables, bedsteads
and cradles, crowd the yard; and the garden fence bends beneath the
weight of carpets, blankets, cloth cloaks, old coats, and ragged
breeches. _Here_ may be seen the lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark
and confused mass: for the foreground of the picture, grid irons and
frying-pans, rusty shovels and broken tongs, spits and pots,
joint-stools, and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed chairs. _There_
a closet has disgorged its bowels, cracked tumblers, broken wineglasses,
vials of forgotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds, and dried
herbs, handfuls of old corks, tops of teapots, and stoppers of departed
decanters; from the raghole in the garret to the rathole in the cellar,
no place escapes unrummaged. It would seem as if the day of general doom
was come, and the utensils of the house were dragged forth to judgment.
In this tempest the words of Lear naturally present themselves, and
might, with some alteration, be made strictly applicable:

"Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipp'd of justice!

"Close pent-up guilt,
Raise your concealing continents, and ask
These dreadful summoners grace!"

This ceremony completed and the house thoroughly evacuated, the next
operation is to smear the walls and ceilings of every room and closet
with brushes dipped in a solution of lime, called _white wash_; to pour
buckets of water over every floor, and scratch all the partitions and
wainscots with rough brushes wet with soapsuds and dipped in
stonecutter's sand. The windows by no means escape the general deluge. A
servant scrambles out upon the penthouse, at the risk of her neck, and
with a mug in her hand and a bucket within reach, she dashes away
innumerable gallons of water against the glass panes, to the great
annoyance of the passengers in the street.

I have been told that an action at law was once brought against one of
these water nymphs, by a person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by
this operation; but, after long argument, it was determined by the whole
court that the action would not lie, inasmuch as the defendant was in
the exercise of a legal right, and not answerable for the consequences:
and so the poor gentleman was doubly nonsuited, for he lost not only his
suit of clothes, but his suit at law.

These smearings and scratchings, washings and dashings, being duly
performed, the next ceremonial is to cleanse and replace the distracted
furniture. You may have seen a house-raising or a ship-launch, when all
the hands within reach are collected together: recollect, if you can,
the hurry, bustle, confusion, and noise of such a scene, and you will
have some idea of this cleaning match. The misfortune is, that the sole
object is to make things clean; it matters not how many useful,
ornamental, or valuable articles are mutilated or suffer death under the
operation; a mahogany chair and carved frame undergo the same
discipline; they are to be made _clean_ at all events, but their
preservation is not worthy of attention. For instance, a fine large
engraving is laid flat on the floor, smaller prints are piled upon it,
and the superincumbent weight cracks the glasses of the lower tier: but
this is of no consequence. A valuable picture is placed leaning against
the sharp corner of a table, others are made to lean against that, until
the pressure of the whole forces the corner of the table through the
canvass of the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to be
_cleaned_; the spirit and oil used on this occasion are suffered to leak
through and spoil the engraving; no matter, if the glass is clean and
the frame shine, it is sufficient; the rest is not worthy of
consideration. An able arithmetician has made an accurate calculation,
founded on long experience, and has discovered that the losses and
destructions incident to two whitewashings are equal to one removal, and
three removals equal to one fire.

The cleaning frolic over, matters begin to resume their pristine
appearance. The storm abates, and all would be well again; but it is
impossible that so great a convulsion in so small a community should not
produce some farther effects. For two or three weeks after the
operation, the family are usually afflicted with sore throats or sore
eyes, occasioned by the caustic quality of the lime, or with severe
colds from the exhalations of wet floors or damp walls.

I know a gentleman who was fond of accounting for everything in a
philosophical way. He considers this, which I have called a custom, as a
real periodical disease, peculiar to the climate. His train of reasoning
is ingenious and whimsical, but I am not at leisure to give you a
detail. The result was, that he found the distemper to be incurable;
but, after much study, he conceived he had discovered a method to divert
the evil he could not subdue. For this purpose he caused a small
building, about twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and
furnished with some ordinary chairs and tables, and a few prints of the
cheapest sort were hung against the walls. His hope was, that when the
whitewashing phrensy seized the females of his family, they might repair
to this apartment, and scrub, and smear, and scour to their heart's
content, and so spend the violence of the disease in this outpost, while
he enjoyed himself in quiet at headquarters. But the experiment did not
answer his expectation; it was impossible it should, since a principal
part of the gratification consists in the lady's having an uncontrolled
right to torment her husband at least once a year, and to turn him out
of doors, and take the reins of government into her own hands.

There is a much better contrivance than this of the philosopher, which
is, to cover the walls of the house with paper; this is generally done,
and though it cannot abolish, it at least shortens the period of female
dominion. The paper is decorated with flowers of various fancies, and
made so ornamental, that the women have admitted the fashion without
perceiving the design.

There is also another alleviation of the husband's distress; he
generally has the privilege of a small room or closet for his books and
papers, the key of which he is allowed to keep. This is considered as a
privileged place, and stands like the land of Goshen amid the plagues of
Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and ever on his guard.
For should he inadvertently go abroad and leave the key in his door, the
housemaid, who is always on the watch for such an opportunity,
immediately enters in triumph with buckets, brooms, and brushes; takes
possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books and papers
_to rights_, to his utter confusion and sometimes serious detriment. For
instance:

A gentleman was sued by the executors of a tradesman, on a charge found
against him in the deceased's books to the amount of £30. The defendant
was strongly impressed with an idea that he had discharged the debt and
taken a receipt; but, as the transaction was of long standing, he knew
not where to find the receipt. The suit went on in course, and the time
approached when judgment would be obtained against him. He then sat
seriously down to examine a large bundle of old papers, which he had
untied and displayed on a table for that purpose. In the midst of his
search he was suddenly called away on business of importance; he forgot
to lock the door of his room. The housemaid, who had been long looking
out for such an opportunity, immediately entered with the usual
implements, and with great alacrity fell to cleaning the room and
putting things to _rights_. The first object that struck her eye was the
confused situation of the papers on the table; these were, without
delay, bundled together like so many dirty knives and forks; but, in the
action, a small piece of paper fell unnoticed on the floor, which
happened to be the very receipt in question: as it had no very
respectable appearance it was soon after swept out with the common dirt
of the room, and carried in a rubbish-pan into the yard. The tradesman
had neglected to enter the credit in his book; the defendant could find
nothing to obviate the charge, and so judgment went against him for the
debt and costs. A fortnight after the whole was settled and the money
paid, one of the children found the receipt among the rubbish in the
yard.

There is also another custom peculiar to the city of Philadelphia, and
nearly allied to the former. I mean that of washing the pavement before
the doors every Saturday evening. I at first took this to be a
regulation of the police, but, on a farther inquiry, find it is a
religious rite preparatory to the Sabbath, and is, I believe, the only
religious rite in which the numerous sectaries of this city perfectly
agree. The ceremony begins about sunset, and continues till about ten or
eleven at night. It is very difficult for a stranger to walk the streets
on those evenings; he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty
water thrown against his legs; but a Philadelphian born is so much
accustomed to the danger that he avoids it with surprising dexterity. It
is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian may be known anywhere by
his gait. The streets of New-York are paved with rough stones; these,
indeed, are not washed, but the dirt is so thoroughly swept from before
the doors that the stones stand up sharp and prominent, to the great
inconvenience of those who are not accustomed to so rough a path. But
habit reconciles everything. It is diverting enough to see a
Philadelphian at New-York; he walks the streets with as much painful
caution as if his toes were covered with corns, or his feet lamed with
the gout: while a New-Yorker, as little approving the plain masonry of
Philadelphia, shuffles along the pavement like a parrot on a mahogany
table.

It must be acknowledged that the ablutions I have mentioned are attended
with no small inconvenience; but the women would not be induced, from
any consideration, to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I
can give you the strongest assurances that the women of America make the
most faithful wives and the most attentive mothers in the world; and I
am sure you will join me in opinion, that if a married man is made
miserable only _one_ week in a whole year, he will have no great cause
to complain of the matrimonial bond.

I am, &c.

* * * * *

ON THE CRIMINAL LAWS AND THE PRACTICE OF PRIVATEERING.

_Letter to Benjamin Vaughan, Esq._

March 14, 1785.

MY DEAR FRIEND

Among the pamphlets you lately sent me was one entitled _Thoughts on
Executive Justice_. In return for that, I send you a French one on the
same subject, _Observations concernant l'Exécution de l'Article II. de
la Déclaration sur le Vol_. They are both addressed to the judges, but
written, as you will see, in a very different spirit. The English author
is for hanging _all_ thieves. The Frenchman is for proportioning
punishments to offences.

If we really believe, as we profess to believe, that the law of Moses
was the law of God, the dictate of Divine wisdom, infinitely superior to
human, on what principle do we ordain death as the punishment of an
offence which, according to that law, was only to be punished by a
restitution of fourfold? To put a man to death for an offence which does
not deserve death, is it not a murder? And as the French writer says,
_Doit-on punir un délit contre la société par un crime contre la
nature?_[8]

[8] Ought we to punish a crime against society by a crime against
nature?

Superfluous property is the creature of society. Simple and mild laws
were sufficient to guard the property that was merely necessary. The
savage's bow, his hatchet, and his coat of skins, were sufficiently
secured, without law, by the fear of personal resentment and
retaliation. When, by virtue of the first laws, part of the society
accumulated wealth and grew powerful, they enacted others more severe,
and would protect their property at the expense of humanity. This was
abusing their power and commencing a tyranny. If a savage, before he
entered into society, had been told, "Your neighbour, by this means, may
become owner of a hundred deer; but if your brother, or your son, or
yourself, having no deer of your own, and being hungry, should kill one,
an infamous death must be the consequence," he would probably have
preferred his liberty, and his common right of killing any deer, to all
the advantages of society that might be proposed to him.

That it is better a hundred guilty persons should escape than that one
innocent person should suffer, is a maxim that has been long and
generally approved; never, that I know of, controverted. Even the
sanguinary author of the _Thoughts_ agrees to it, adding well, "that the
very thought of _injured_ innocence, and much more that of _suffering_
innocence, must awaken all our tenderest and most compassionate
feelings, and, at the same time, raise our highest indignation against
the instruments of it. But," he adds, "there is no danger of _either_
from a strict adherence to the laws." Really! is it then impossible to
make an unjust law? and if the law itself be unjust, may it not be the
very "instrument" which ought "to raise the author's and everybody's
highest indignation?" I see in the last newspapers from London that a
woman is capitally convicted at the Old Bailey for privately stealing
out of a shop some gauze, value fourteen shillings and threepence. Is
there any proportion between the injury done by a theft, value fourteen
shillings and threepence, and the punishment of a human creature, by
death, on a gibbet? Might not that woman, by her labour, have made the
reparation ordained by God in paying fourfold? Is not all punishment
inflicted beyond the merit of the offence, so much punishment of
innocence? In this light, how vast is the annual quantity of not only
_injured_, but _suffering_ innocence, in almost all the civilized states
of Europe!

But it seems to have been thought that this kind of innocence may be
punished by way of _preventing crimes_. I have read, indeed, of a cruel
Turk in Barbary, who, whenever he bought a new Christian slave, ordered
him immediately to be hung up by the legs, and to receive a hundred
blows of a cudgel on the soles of his feet, that the severe sense of
punishment and fear of incurring it thereafter might prevent the faults
that should merit it. Our author himself would hardly approve entirely
of this Turk's conduct in the government of slaves; and yet he appears
to recommend something like it for the government of English subjects,
when he applauds the reply of Judge Burnet to the convict horsestealer;
who, being asked what he had to say why judgment of death should not
pass against him, and answering that it was hard to hang a man for
_only_ stealing a horse, was told by the judge, "Man, thou art not to be
hanged _only_ for stealing a horse, but that horses may not be stolen."
The man's answer, if candidly examined, will, I imagine, appear
reasonable, as being founded on the eternal principle of justice and
equity, that punishments should be proportioned to offences; and the
judge's reply brutal and unreasonable, though the writer "wishes all
judges to carry it with them whenever they go the circuit, and to bear
it in their minds, as containing a wise reason for all the penal
statutes which they are called upon to put in execution. It at once
illustrates," says he, "the true grounds and reasons of all capital
punishments whatsoever, namely, that every man's property, as well as
his life, may be held sacred and inviolate." Is there, then, no
difference in value between property and life? If I think it right that
the crime of murder should be punished with death, not only as an equal
punishment of the crime, but to prevent other murders, does it follow
that I must approve of inflicting the same punishment for a little
invasion on my property by theft? If I am not myself so barbarous, so
bloody-minded and revengeful, as to kill a fellow-creature for stealing
from me fourteen shillings and threepence, how can I approve of a law
that does it? Montesquieu, who was himself a judge, endeavours to
impress other maxims. He must have known what humane judges feel on such
occasions, and what the effects of those feelings; and, so far from
thinking that severe and excessive punishments prevent crimes, he
asserts, as quoted by our French writer, that

"L'atrocité des loix en empêche l'exécution.

"Lorsque la peine est sans mesure, on est souvent obligé de lui préférer
l'impunité.

"La cause de tous les relâchemens vient de l'impunité des crimes, et non
de la modération des peines."[9]

[9] The extreme severity of the laws prevents their execution.
Where the punishment is excessive, it is frequently necessary to
prefer impunity.

It is the exemption from punishment, and not its moderation which
is the cause of crime.

It is said by those who know Europe generally that there are more thefts
committed and punished annually in England than in all the other nations
put together. If this be so, there must be a cause or causes for such
depravity in our common people. May not one be the deficiency of justice
and morality in our national government, manifested in our oppressive
conduct to subjects, and unjust wars on our neighbours? View the
long-persisted-in, unjust, monopolizing treatment of Ireland, at length
acknowledged! View the plundering government exercised by our merchants
in the Indies; the confiscating war made upon the American colonies;
and, to say nothing of those upon France and Spain, view the late war
upon Holland, which was seen by impartial Europe in no other light than
that of a war of rapine and pillage; the hopes of an immense and easy
prey being its only apparent, and probably its true and real motive and
encouragement. Justice is as strictly due between neighbour nations as
between neighbour citizens. A highwayman is as much a robber when he
plunders in a gang as when single; and a nation that makes an unjust war
is only a great gang. After employing your people in robbing the Dutch,
it is strange that, being put out of that employ by peace, they still
continue robbing, and rob one another? _Piraterie_, as the French call
it, or privateering, is the universal bent of the English nation, at
home and abroad, wherever settled. No less than seven hundred privateers
were, it is said, commissioned in the last war! These were fitted out by
merchants, to prey upon other merchants who had never done them any
injury. Is there probably any one of those privateering merchants of
London, who were so ready to rob the merchants of Amsterdam, that would
not as easily plunder another London merchant of the next street, if he
could do it with the same impunity? The avidity, the _alieni
appetens_[10] is the same; it is the fear of the gallows that makes the
difference. How, then, can a nation, which among the honestest of its
people has so many thieves by inclination, and whose government
encouraged and commissioned no less than seven hundred gangs of robbers;
how can such a nation have the face to condemn the crime in individuals,
and hang up twenty of them in a morning! It naturally puts one in mind
of a Newgate anecdote. One of the prisoners complained that in the night
somebody had taken his buckles out of his shoes. "What the devil!" says
another, "have we then _thieves_ among us? It must not be suffered. Let
us search out the rogue and pump him to death."

[10] Coveting what is the property of another.

There is, however, one late instance of an English merchant who will not
profit by such ill-gotten gain. He was, it seems, part owner of a ship,
which the other owners thought fit to employ as a letter of marque,
which took a number of French prizes. The booty being shared, he has now
an agent here inquiring, by an advertisement in the Gazette, for those
who have suffered the loss, in order to make them, as far as in him
lies, restitution. This conscientious man is a Quaker. The Scotch
Presbyterians were formerly as tender; for there is still extant an
ordinance of the town-council of Edinburgh, made soon after the
Reformation, "forbidding the purchase of prize goods, under pain of
losing the freedom of the burgh for ever, with other punishment at the
will of the magistrate; the practice of making prizes being contrary to
good conscience, and the rule of treating Christian brethren as we would
wish to be treated; and such goods _are not to be sold by any Godly man
within this burgh_." The race of these Godly men in Scotland are
probably extinct, or their principles abandoned, since, as far as that
nation had a hand in promoting the war against the colonies, prizes and
confiscations are believed to have been a considerable motive.

It has been for some time a generally received opinion, that a military
man is not to inquire whether a war be just or unjust; he is to execute
his orders. All princes who are disposed to become tyrants must probably
approve of this opinion, and be willing to establish it; but is it not a
dangerous one? since, on that principle, if the tyrant commands his army
to attack and destroy not only an unoffending neighbour nation, but even
his own subjects, the army is bound to obey. A negro slave in our
colonies, being commanded by his master to rob and murder a neighbour,
or do any other immoral act, may refuse, and the magistrate will protect
him in his refusal. The slavery, then, of a soldier is worse than that
of a negro! A conscientious officer, if not restrained by the
apprehension of its being imputed to another cause, may indeed resign
rather than be employed in an unjust war; but the private men are slaves
for life; and they are, perhaps, incapable of judging for themselves. We
can only lament their fate, and still more that of a sailor, who is
often dragged by force from his honest occupation, and compelled to
imbrue his hands in perhaps innocent blood. But methinks it well
behooves merchants (men more enlightened by their education, and
perfectly free from any such force or obligation) to consider well of
the justice of a war, before they voluntarily engage a gang of ruffians
to attack their fellow-merchants of a neighbouring nation, to plunder
them of their property, and perhaps ruin them and their families if they
yield it, or to wound, maim, and murder them, if they endeavour to
defend it. Yet these things are done by Christian merchants, whether a
war be just or unjust; and it can hardly be just on both sides. They are
done by English and American merchants, who nevertheless complain of
private theft, and hang by dozens the thieves they have taught by their
own example.

It is high time, for the sake of humanity, that a stop were put to this
enormity. The United States of America, though better situated than any
European nation to make profit by privateering (most of the trade of
Europe with the West Indies passing before their doors), are, as far as
in them lies, endeavouring to abolish the practice, by offering, in all
their treaties with other powers, an article, engaging solemnly that, in
case of future war, no privateer shall be commissioned on either side;
and that unarmed merchant ships on both sides shall pursue their
voyages unmolested.[11] This will be a happy improvement of the law of
nations. The humane and the just cannot but wish general success to the
proposition.

[11] This offer having been accepted by the late king of Prussia, a
treaty of amity and commerce was concluded between that monarch and
the United States, containing the following humane, philanthropic
article, in the formation of which Dr. Franklin, as one of the
American plenipotentiaries, was principally concerned, viz.,

"ART. XXIII. If war should arise between the two contracting
parties, the merchants of either country then residing in the other
shall be allowed to remain nine months to collect their debts and
settle their affairs, and may depart freely, carrying off all their
effects without molestation or hinderance; and all women and
children, scholars of every faculty, cultivators of the earth,
artisans, manufacturers, and fishermen, unarmed and inhabiting
unfortified towns, villages, and places, and, in general, all
others whose occupations are for the common subsistence and benefit
of mankind, shall be allowed to continue their respective
employments, and shall not be molested in their persons, nor shall
their houses or goods be burned or otherwise destroyed, nor their
fields wasted by the armed force of the enemy into whose power, by
the events of war, they may happen to fall; but if anything is
necessary to be taken from them for the use of such armed force,
the same shall be paid for at a reasonable price. And all merchant
and trading vessels employed in exchanging the products of
different places, and thereby rendering the necessaries,
conveniences, and comforts of human life more easy to be obtained,
and more general, shall be allowed to pass free and unmolested; and
neither of the contracting powers shall grant or issue any
commission to any private armed vessels, empowering them to take or
destroy such trading vessels or interrupt such commerce."

With unchangeable esteem and affection,

I am, my dear friend,
Ever yours.

* * * * *

LETTER FROM ANTHONY AFTERWIT.

MR. GAZETTEER,

I am an honest tradesman, who never meant harm to anybody. My affairs
went on smoothly while a bachelor; but of late I have met with some
difficulties, of which I take the freedom to give you an account.

About the time I first addressed my present spouse, her father gave out
in speeches that, if she married a man he liked, he would give with her
two hundred pounds in cash on the day of marriage. He never said so much
to me, it is true; but he always received me very kindly at his house,
and openly countenanced my courtship. I formed several fine schemes what
to do with this same two hundred pounds, and in some measure neglected
my business on that account; but, unluckily, it came to pass, that, when
the old gentleman saw I was pretty well engaged, and that the match was
too far gone to be easily broke off, he, without any reason given, grew
very angry, forbid me the house, and told his daughter that if she
married me he would not give her a farthing. However (as he thought), we
were not to be disappointed in that manner, but, having stole a wedding,
I took her home to my house, where we were not quite in so poor a
condition as the couple described in the Scotch song, who had

"Neither pot nor pan,
But four bare legs together,"

for I had a house tolerably well furnished for a poor man before. No
thanks to Dad, who, I understand, was very much pleased with his politic
management; and I have since learned that there are other old
curmudgeons (so called) besides him, who have this trick to marry their
daughters, and yet keep what they might well spare till they can keep it
no longer. But this by way of digression; a word to the wise is enough.

I soon saw that with care and industry we might live tolerably easy and
in credit with our neighbours; but my wife had a strong inclination to
be a gentlewoman. In consequence of this, my oldfashioned looking-glass
was one day broke, as she said, _no one could tell which way_. However,
since we could not be without a glass in the room, "My dear," saith she,
"we may as well buy a large fashionable one, that Mr. Such-a-one has to
sell. It will cost but little more than a common glass, and will look
much handsomer and more creditable." Accordingly, the glass was bought
and hung against the wall; but in a week's time I was made sensible, by
little and little, that _the table was by no means suitable to such a
glass_; and, a more proper table being procured, some time after, my
spouse, who was an excellent contriver, informed me where we might have
very handsome chairs _in the way_; and thus, by degrees, I found all my
old furniture stowed up in the garret, and everything below altered for
the better.

Had we stopped here, it might have done well enough. But my wife being
entertained with tea by the good woman she visited, we could do no less
than the like when they visited us; so we got a teatable, with all its
appurtenances of China and silver. Then my spouse unfortunately
overworked herself in washing the house, so that we could do no longer
without a maid. Besides this, it happened frequently that when I came
home at one, the dinner was but just put in the pot, and _my dear
thought really it had been but eleven_. At other times, when I came at
the same hour, _she wondered I would stay so long, for dinner was ready
about one, and had waited for me these two hours_. These irregularities,
occasioned by mistaking the time, convinced me that it was absolutely
necessary _to buy a clock_, which my spouse observed was _a great
ornament to the room_. And lastly, to my grief, she was troubled with
some ailment or other, and _nothing did her so much good as riding, and
these hackney-horses were such wretched ugly creatures that_--I bought a
very fine pacing mare, which cost twenty pounds; and hereabouts affairs
have stood for about a twelvemonth past.

I could see all along that this did not at all suit with my
circumstances, but had not resolution enough to help it, till lately,
receiving a very severe dun, which mentioned the next court, I began in
earnest to project relief. Last Monday, my dear went over the river to
see a relation and stay a fortnight, because she could not bear the heat
of the town air. In the interim I have taken my turn to make
alterations; namely, I have turned away the maid, bag and baggage (for
what should we do with a maid, who, besides our boy, have none but
ourselves?) I have sold the pacing mare, and bought a good milch-cow
with three pounds of the money. I have disposed of the table, and put a
good spinning-wheel in its place, which, methinks, looks very pretty;
nine empty canisters I have stuffed with flax, and with some of the
money of the tea-furniture I have bought a set of knitting-needles, for,
to tell you the truth, _I begin to want stockings_. The fine clock I
have transformed into an hourglass, by which I have gained a good round
sum; and one of the pieces of the old looking-glass, squared and framed,
supplies the place of the great one, which I have conveyed into a
closet, where it may possibly remain some years. In short, the face of
things is quite changed, and methinks you would smile to see my
hourglass hanging in the place of the clock. What a great ornament it
is to the room! I have paid my debts, and find money in my pocket. I
expect my dear home next Friday, and, as your paper is taken at the
house where she is, I hope the reading of this will prepare her mind for
the above surprising revolutions. If she can conform herself to this new
manner of living, we shall be the happiest couple, perhaps, in the
province, and, by the blessing of God, may soon be in thriving
circumstances. I have reserved the great glass, because I know her heart
is set upon it; I will allow her, when she comes in, to be taken
suddenly ill with _the headache_, _the stomach-ache_, _fainting-fits_,
or whatever other disorder she may think more proper, and she may retire
to bed as soon as she pleases. But if I should not find her in perfect
health, both of body and mind, the next morning, away goes the aforesaid
great glass, with several other trinkets I have no occasion for, to the
vendue, that very day; which is the irrevocable resolution

Of, sir, her loving husband and
Your very humble servant,
ANTHONY AFTERWIT.

P.S.--I would be glad to know how you approve my conduct.

_Answer._--I don't love to concern myself in affairs between man and
wife.

LETTERS.

"_Mrs. Abiah Franklin._

"Philadelphia, April (date uncertain).

"HONOURED MOTHER,

"We received your kind letter of the 2d instant, by which we are glad to
hear you still enjoy such a measure of health, notwithstanding your
great age. We read your writings very easily. I never met with a word in
your letter but what I could easily understand, for, though the hand is
not always the best, the sense makes everything plain. My leg, which you
inquire after, is now quite well. I shall keep these servants: but the
man not in my own house. I have hired him out to the man that takes care
of my Dutch printing-office, who agrees to keep him in victuals and
clothes, and to pay me a dollar a week for his work. The wife, since
that affair, behaves exceeding well: but we conclude to sell them both
the first good opportunity, for we do not like negro servants. We got
again about half what we lost.

"As to your grandchildren, Will is now 19 years of age, a tall, proper
youth, and much of a beau. He acquired a habit of idleness on the
expedition, but begins, of late, to apply himself to business, and, I
hope, will become an industrious man. He imagined his father had got
enough for him; but I have assured him that I intend to spend what
little I have myself, if it please God that I live long enough, and he
can see, by my going on, that I mean to be as good as my word.

"Sally grows a fine girl, and is extremely industrious with her needle,
and delights in her work. She is of a most affectionate temper, and
perfectly dutiful and obliging to her parents and to all. Perhaps I
flatter myself too much, but I have hope that she will prove an
ingenious, sensible, notable, and worthy woman, like her aunt Jenny; she
goes now to the dancing school.

"For my own part, at present, I pass my time agreeably enough; I enjoy
(through mercy) a tolerable share of health. I read a great deal, ride a
little, do a little business for myself (now and then for others),
retire when I can, and go into company when I please so; the years roll
round, and the last will come, when I would rather have it said _he
lived usefully_ than _he died rich_.

"Cousins Josiah and Sally are well, and I believe will do well, for they
are an industrious, loving young couple; but they want a little more
stock to go on smoothly with their business.

"My love to brother and sister Mecom and their children, and to all my
relations in general. I am your dutiful son,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Miss Jane Franklin._[12]

[12] His sister married Mr. Edward Mecom, July 27, 1727.

"Philadelphia, January 6, 1726-7.

"DEAR SISTER,

"I am highly pleased with the account Captain Freeman gives me of you. I
always judged by your behaviour when a child, that you would make a
good, agreeable woman, and you know you were ever my peculiar favourite.
I have been thinking what would be a suitable present for me to make,
and for you to receive, as I hear you are grown a celebrated beauty. I
had almost determined on a teatable; but when I considered that the
character of a good housewife was far preferable to that of being only a
pretty gentlewoman, I concluded to send you a _spinning-wheel_, which I
hope you will accept as a small token of my sincere love and affection.

"Sister, farewell, and remember that modesty as it makes the most homely
virgin amiable and charming, so the want of it infallibly renders the
most perfect beauty disagreeable and odious. But when that brightest of
female virtues shines among other perfections of body and mind in the
same person, it makes the woman more lovely than an angel. Excuse this
freedom, and use the same with me. I am, dear Jenny, your loving
brother,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_To the same._

Philadelphia, July 28, 1743.

"DEAREST SISTER JENNY,

"I took your admonition very kindly, and was far from being offended at
you for it. If I say anything about it to you, 'tis only to rectify some
wrong opinions you seem to have entertained of me; and this I do only
because they give you some uneasiness, which I am unwilling to be the
cause of. You express yourself as if you thought I was against
worshipping of God, and doubt that good works would merit heaven; which
are both fancies of your own, I think, without foundation. I am so far
from thinking that God is not to be worshipped, that I have composed and
wrote a whole book of devotions for my own use, and I imagine there are
few, if any, in the world so weak as to imagine that the little good we
can do here can merit so vast a reward hereafter.

"There are some things in your New-England doctrine and worship which I
do not agree with: but I do not therefore condemn them, or desire to
shake your belief or practice of them. We may dislike things that are
nevertheless right in themselves: I would only have you make me the same
allowance, and have a better opinion both of morality and your brother.
Read the pages of Mr. Edwards's late book, entitled, 'Some Thoughts
concerning the present Revival of Religion in New-England,' from 367 to
375; and when you judge of others, if you can perceive the fruit to be
good, don't terrify yourself that the tree may be evil; but be assured
it is not so, for you know who has said, 'Men do not gather grapes off
thorns, and figs off thistles.' I have not time to add, but that I shall
always be your affectionate brother,

"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S.--It was not kind in you, when your sister commenced good works, to
suppose she intended it a reproach to you. 'Twas very far from her
thoughts."

* * * * *

"_To Mr. George Whitefield._

"Philadelphia, June 6, 1753.

"SIR,

"I received your kind letter of the 2d instant, and am glad to hear that
you increase in strength; I hope you will continue mending till you
recover your former health and firmness. Let me know whether you still
use the cold bath, and what effect it has.

"As to the kindness you mention, I wish it could have been of more
service to you. But if it had, the only thanks I should desire is, that
you would always be equally ready to serve any other person that may
need your assistance, and so let good offices go round; for mankind are
all of a family.

"For my own part, when I am employed in serving others, I do not look
upon myself as conferring favours, but as paying debts. In my travels
and since my settlement, I have received much kindness from men to whom
I shall never have an opportunity of making the least direct return, and
numberless mercies from God, who is infinitely above being benefited by
our services. Those kindnesses from men I can therefore only return on
their fellow-men, and I can only show my gratitude for these mercies
from God by a readiness to help his other children and my brethren. For
I do not think that thanks and compliments, though repeated weekly, can
discharge our real obligations to each other, and much less those to our
Creator. You will see in this my notion of good works, that I am far
from expecting to merit heaven by them. By heaven we understand a state
of happiness infinite in degree and eternal in duration: I can do
nothing to deserve such rewards. He that, for giving a draught of water
to a thirsty person, should expect to be paid with a good plantation,
would be modest in his demands compared with those who think they
deserve heaven for the little good they do on earth. Even the mixed,
imperfect pleasures we enjoy in this world are rather from God's
goodness than our merit: how much more such happiness of heaven! For my
part, I have not the vanity to think I deserve it, the folly to expect
it, nor the ambition to desire it; but content myself in submitting to
the will and disposal of that God who made me, who has hitherto
preserved and blessed me, and in whose fatherly goodness I may well
confide, that he will never make me miserable, and that even the
afflictions I may at any time suffer shall tend to my benefit. * * * *

"I wish you health and happiness.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To Mrs. D. Franklin._

"Guadenhathen, January 25, 1756.

"MY DEAR CHILD,

"This day week we arrived here; I wrote to you the same day, and once
since. We all continue well, thanks be to God. We have been hindered
with bad weather, yet our fort is in a good defensible condition, and we
have every day more convenient living. Two more are to be built, one on
each side of this, at about fifteen miles' distance. I hope both will be
done in a week or ten days, and then I purpose to bend my course
homeward.

"We have enjoyed your roast beef, and this day began on the roast veal;
all agree that they are both the best that ever were of the kind. Your
citizens, that have their dinners hot and hot, know nothing of good
eating; we find it in much greater perfection when the kitchen is
fourscore miles from the dining-room.

"The apples are extremely welcome, and do bravely to eat after our salt
pork; the minced pies are not yet come to hand, but suppose we shall
find them among the things expected up from Bethlehem on Tuesday; the
capillaire is excellent, but none of us having taken cold as yet, we
have only tasted it.

"As to our lodging, 'tis on deal feather beds, in warm blankets, and
much more comfortable than when we lodged at our inn the first night
after we left home; for the woman being about to put very damp sheets on
the bed, we desired her to air them first; half an hour afterward she
told us the bed was ready and the sheets _well aired_. I got into bed,
but jumped out immediately, finding them as cold as death, and partly
frozen. She had _aired_ them indeed, but it was out upon the _hedge_. I
was forced to wrap myself up in my greatcoat and woollen trousers;
everything else about the bed was shockingly dirty.

"As I hope in a little time to be with you and my family, and chat
things over, I now only add that I am, dear Debby, your affectionate
husband,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To the same._

"Easton, Saturday morning, November 13, 1756.

"MY DEAR CHILD,

"I wrote to you a few days since by a special messenger, and enclosed
letters for all our wives and sweethearts, expecting to hear from you by
his return, and to have the northern newspapers and English letters per
the packet; but he is just now returned without a scrap for poor us. So
I had a good mind not to write to you by this opportunity; but I never
can be ill-natured enough, even when there is the most occasion. The
messenger says he left the letters at your house, and saw you afterward
at Mr. Dentie's, and told you when he would go, and that he lodged at
Honey's, next door to you, and yet you did not write; so let Goody Smith
give one more just judgment, and say what should be done to you; I think
I won't tell you that we are well, nor that we expect to return about
the middle of the week, nor will I send you a word of news; that's poz.
My duty to mother, love to the children, and to Miss Betsey and Gracey,
&c., &c.

"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S.--I have _scratched out the loving words_, being written in haste
by mistake, _when I forgot . was angry_."

[Transcriber's Note: Unreadable word after "I forgot"]

* * * * *

"_Mrs. Jane Mecom, Boston._

New-York, April 19, 1757.

"DEAR SISTER,

"I wrote a few lines to you yesterday, but omitted to answer yours
relating to sister Dowse. _As having their own way_ is one of the
greatest comforts of life to old people, I think their friends should
endeavour to accommodate them in that as well as anything else. When
they have long lived in a house, it becomes natural to them; they are
almost as closely connected with it as the tortoise with his shell: they
die if you tear them out of it. Old folks and old trees, if you remove
them, 'tis ten to one that you kill them, so let our good old sister be
no more importuned on that head: we are growing old fast ourselves, and
shall expect the same kind of indulgences; if we give them, we shall
have a right to receive them in our turn.

"And as to her few fine things, I think she is in the right not to sell
them, and for the reason she gives, that they will fetch but little,
when that little is spent, they would be of no farther use to her; but
perhaps the expectation of possessing them at her death may make that
person tender and careful of her, and helpful to her to the amount of
ten times their value. If so, they are put to the best use they possibly
can be.

"I hope you visit sister as often as your affairs will permit, and
afford her what assistance and comfort you can in her present situation.
_Old age_, _infirmities_, and _poverty_ joined, are afflictions enough.
The _neglect_ and _slights_ of friends and near relations should never
be added; people in her circumstances are apt to suspect this sometimes
without cause, _appearances_ should therefore be attended to in our
conduct towards them as well as _relatives_. I write by this post to
cousin William, to continue his care which I doubt not he will do.

"We expect to sail in about a week, so that I can hardly hear from you
again on this side the water; but let me have a line from you now and
then while I am in London; I expect to stay there at least a
twelvemonth. Direct your letters to be left for me at the Pennsylvania
Coffee-house, in Birchin Lane, London.

"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S., April 25.--We are still here, and perhaps may be here a week
longer. Once more adieu, my dear sister."

* * * * *

_To the same._

Woodbridge, East New-Jersey, May 21, 1757.

"DEAR SISTER,

"I received your kind letter of the 9th instant, in which you acquainted
me with some of your late troubles. These are troublesome times to us
all; but perhaps you have heard more than you should. I am glad to hear
that Peter is at a place where he has full employ. A trade is a valuable
thing; but unless a habit of industry be acquired with it, it turns out
of little use; if he gets THAT in his new place, it will be a happy
exchange, and the occasion not an unfortunate one.

"It is very agreeable to me to hear so good an account of your other
children: in such a number, to have no bad ones is a great happiness.

"The horse sold very low indeed. If I wanted one to-morrow, knowing his
goodness, old as he is, I should freely give more than twice the money
for him; but you did the best you could, and I will take of Benny no
more than he produced.

"I don't doubt but Benny will do very well when he gets to work: but I
fear his things from England may be so long a coming as to occasion the
loss of the rent. Would it not be better for you to move into the
house? Perhaps not, if he is near being married. I know nothing of that
affair but what you write me, except that I think Miss Betsey a very
agreeable, sweet-tempered, good girl, who has had a housewifery
education, and will make, to a good husband, a very good wife. Your
sister and I have a great esteem for her, and if she will be kind enough
to accept of our nephew, we think it will be his own fault if he is not
as happy as the married state can make him. The family is a respectable
one, but whether there be any fortune I know not; and as you do not
inquire about this particular, I suppose you think with me, that where
everything else desirable is to be met with, that is not very material.
If she does not bring a fortune she will have to make one. Industry,
frugality, and prudent economy in a wife, are to a tradesman, in their
effects, a fortune; and a fortune sufficient for Benjamin, if his
expectations are reasonable. We can only add, that if the young lady and
her friends are willing, we give our consent heartily and our blessing.
My love to brother and the children concludes with me.

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_To the same_.

"New-York, May 30, 1757

"DEAR SISTER,

"I have before me yours of the 9th and 16th instant. I am glad you have
resolved to visit sister Dowse oftener; it will be a great comfort to
her to find she is not neglected by you, and your example may, perhaps,
be followed by some other of her relations.

"As Neddy is yet a young man, I hope he may get over the disorder he
complains of, and in time wear it out. My love to him and his wife and
the rest of your children. It gives me pleasure to hear that Eben is
likely to get into business at his trade. If he will be industrious and
frugal, 'tis ten to one but he gets rich, for he seems to have spirit
and activity.

"I am glad that Peter is acquainted with the crown soap business, so as
to make what is good of the kind. I hope he will always take care to
make it faithfully, never slight manufacture, or attempt to deceive by
appearances. Then he may boldly put his name and mark, and in a little
time it will acquire as good a character as that made by his late uncle,
or any other person whatever. I believe his aunt at Philadelphia can
help him to sell a good deal of it; and I doubt not of her doing
everything in her power to promote his interest in that way. Let a box
be sent to her (but not unless it be right good), and she will
immediately return the ready money for it. It was beginning once to be
in vogue in Philadelphia, but brother John sent me one box, an ordinary
sort, which checked its progress. I would not have him put the Franklin
arms on it; but the soapboiler's arms he has a right to use, if he
thinks fit. The other would look too much like an attempt to
counterfeit. In his advertisements he may value himself on serving his
time with the original maker, but put his own mark or device on the
papers, or anything he may be advised as proper; only on the soap, as it
is called by the name of crown soap, it seems necessary to use a stamp
of that sort, and perhaps no soapboiler in the king's dominions has a
better right to the crown than himself.

"Nobody has wrote a syllable to me concerning his making use of the
hammer, or made the least complaint of him or you. I am sorry, however,
he took it without leave. It was irregular, and if you had not approved
of his doing it I should have thought it indiscreet. _Leave_, they say,
is _light_, and it seems to me a piece of respect that was due to his
aunt to ask it, and I can scarce think she would have refused him the
favour.

"I am glad to hear Jamey is so good and diligent a workman; if he ever
sets up at the goldsmith's business, he must remember that there is one
accomplishment without which he cannot possibly thrive in that trade
(i. e., _to be perfectly honest_). It is a business that, though ever so
uprightly managed, is always liable to suspicion; and if a man is once
detected in the smallest fraud it soon becomes public, and every one is
put upon their guard against him; no one will venture to try his hands,
or trust him to make up their plate; so at once he is ruined. I hope my
nephew will therefore establish a character as an _honest_ and faithful
as well as _skilful_ workman, and then he need not fear employment.

"And now, as to what you propose for Benny, I believe he may be, as you
say, well enough qualified for it; and when he appears to be settled, if
a vacancy should happen, it is very probable he may be thought of to
supply it; but it is a rule with me not to remove any officer that
behaves well, keeps regular accounts, and pays duly; and I think the
rule is founded on reason and justice. I have not shown any backwardness
to assist Benny, where it could be done without injuring another. But if
my friends require of me to gratify not only their inclinations, but
their resentments, they expect too much of me. Above all things, I
dislike family quarrels; and when they happen among my relations,
nothing gives me more pain. If I were to set myself up as a judge of
those subsisting between you and brother's widow and children, how
unqualified must I be, at this distance, to determine rightly,
especially having heard but one side. They always treated me with
friendly and affectionate regard; you have done the same. What can I say
between you but that I wish you were reconciled, and that I will love
that side best that is most ready to forgive and oblige the other. You
will be angry with me here for putting you and them too much upon a
footing, but I shall nevertheless be

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Miss Stevenson, Wanstead._

"Craven-street, May 16, 1760.

"I send my good girl the books I mentioned to her last night. I beg her
to accept of them as a small mark of my esteem and friendship. They are
written in the familiar, easy manner for which the French are so
remarkable; and afford a good deal of philosophic and practical
knowledge, unembarassed with the dry mathematics used by more exact
reasoners, but which is apt to discourage young beginners.

"I would advise you to read with a pen in your hand, and enter in a
little book short hints of what you find that is curious or that may be
useful; for this will be the best method of imprinting such particulars
in your memory, where they will be ready either for practice on some
future occasion if they are matters of utility, or at least to adorn and
improve your conversation if they are rather points of curiosity. And as
many of the terms of science are such as you cannot have met with in
your common reading, and may, therefore, be unacquainted with, I think
it would be well for you to have a good dictionary at hand, to consult
immediately when you meet with a word you do not comprehend the precise
meaning of. This may at first seem troublesome and interrupting; but it
is a trouble that will daily diminish, as you will daily find less and
less occasion for your dictionary, as you become more acquainted with
the terms; and in the mean time you will read with more satisfaction,
because with more understanding. When any point occurs in which you
would be glad to have farther information than your book affords you, I
beg you would not in the least apprehend that I should think it a
trouble to receive and answer your questions. It will be a pleasure, and
no trouble. For though I may not be able, out of my own little stock of
knowledge, to afford you what you require, I can easily direct you to
the books where it may most readily be found.

"Adieu, and believe me ever, my dear friend,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Lord Kames._

"Portsmouth, August 17, 1761.

"MY DEAR LORD,

"I am now waiting here only for a wind to waft me to America, but cannot
leave this happy island and my friends in it without extreme regret,
though I am going to a country and a people that I love. I am going from
the Old World to the New, and I fancy I feel like those who are leaving
this world for the next; grief at the parting; fear of the passage; hope
of the future: these different passions all affect their minds at once,
and these have _tendered_ me down exceedingly. It is usual for the dying
to beg forgiveness of their surviving friends if they have ever offended
them. Can you, my lord, forgive my long silence, and my not
acknowledging till now the favour you did me in sending me your
excellent book? Can you make some allowance for a fault in others which
you have never experienced in yourself; for the bad habit of postponing
from day to day what one every day resolves to do to-morrow? A habit
that grows upon us with years, and whose only excuse is we know not how
to mend it. If you are disposed to favour me, you will also consider how
much one's mind is taken up and distracted by the many little affairs
one has to settle, before the undertaking such a voyage, after so long a
residence in a country; and how little, in such a situation, one's mind
is fitted for serious and attentive reading, which, with regard to the
_Elements of Criticism_, I intended before I should write. I can now
only confess and endeavour to amend. In packing up my books, I have
reserved yours to read on the passage. I hope I shall therefore be able
to write to you upon it soon after my arrival. At present I can only
return my thanks, and say that the parts I have read gave me both
pleasure and instruction; that I am convinced of your position, new as
it was to me, that a good taste in the arts contributes to the
improvement of morals; and that I have had the satisfaction of hearing
the work universally commended by those who have read it.

"And now, my dear sir, accept my sincere thanks for the kindness you
have shown me, and my best wishes of happiness to you and yours.
Wherever I am, I shall esteem the friendship you honour me with as one
of the felicities of my life; I shall endeavour to cultivate it by a
more punctual correspondence; and I hope frequently to hear of your
welfare and prosperity.

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_To the same._[13]

[13] Lord Kames had written to Dr. Franklin as early as 1765, when
the first advices reached England of the disorders occasioned by
the attempts to carry the stamp-act into execution; and he had
written a second letter to him on the same subject in the beginning
of 1767. This is a copy of Dr. Franklin's answer to these letters.

London, April 11, 1767.

"MY DEAR LORD,

I received your obliging favour of January the 19th. You have kindly
relieved me from the pain I had long been under. You are goodness
itself. I ought to have answered yours of December 25, 1765. I never
received a letter that contained sentiments more suitable to my own. It
found me under much agitation of mind on the very important subject it
treated. It fortified me greatly in the judgment I was inclined to form
(though contrary to the general vogue) on the then delicate and critical
situation of affairs between Great Britain and the colonies, and on that
weighty point, their _union_. You guessed aright in supposing that I
would not be a _mute in that play_. I was extremely busy, attending
members of both houses, informing, explaining, consulting, disputing, in
a continual hurry from morning to night, till the affair was happily
ended. During the course of its being called before the House of Commons
I spoke my mind pretty freely. Enclosed I send you the imperfect account
that was taken of that examination; you will there see how entirely we
agree, except in a point of fact, of which you could not but be
misinformed; the papers at that time being full of mistaken assertions,
that the colonies had been the cause of the war, and had ungratefully
refused to bear any part of the expense of it. I send it you now,
because I apprehend some late accidents are likely to revive the contest
between the two countries. I fear it will be a mischievous one. It
becomes a matter of great importance, that clear ideas should be formed
on solid principles, both in Britain and America, of the true political
relation between them, and the mutual duties belonging to that relation.
Till this is done they will be often jarring. I know none whose
knowledge, sagacity, and impartiality qualify him so thoroughly for such
a service as yours do you. I wish, therefore, you would consider it. You
may thereby be the happy instrument of great good to the nation, and of
preventing much mischief and bloodshed. I am fully persuaded with you,
that a _consolidating union_, by a fair and equal representation of all
the parts of this empire in Parliament, is the only firm basis on which
its political grandeur and prosperity can be founded. Ireland once
wished it, but now rejects it. The time has been when the colonies might
have been pleased with it, they are now _indifferent_ about it, and if
it is much longer delayed, they too will _refuse_ it. But the pride of
this people cannot bear the thought of it, and therefore it will be
delayed. Every man in England seems to consider himself as a piece of a
sovereign over America; seems to jostle himself into the throne with the
king, and talks of _our subjects in the colonies_. The Parliament cannot
well and wisely make laws suited to the colonies, without being properly
and truly informed of their circumstances, abilities, temper, &c. This
it cannot be without representatives from thence; and yet it is fond of
this power, and averse to the only means of acquiring the necessary
knowledge for exercising it, which is desiring to be _omnipotent_
without being _omniscient_.

"I have mentioned that the contest is likely to be revived. It is on
this occasion: in the same session with the stamp-act, an act was passed
to regulate the quartering of soldiers in America: when the bill was
first brought in, it contained a clause empowering the officers to
quarter their soldiers in private houses; this we warmly opposed, and
got it omitted. The bill passed, however, with a clause that empty
houses, barns, &c., should be hired for them; and that the respective
provinces where they were should pay the expense, and furnish firing,
bedding, drink, and some other articles to the soldiers, _gratis_. There
is no way for any province to do this but by the Assembly's making a law
to raise the money. Pennsylvania Assembly has made such a law; New-York
Assembly has refused to do it; and now all the talk here is, of sending
a force to compel them.

"The reasons given by the Assembly to the governor for the refusal are,
that they understand the act to mean the furnishing such things to
soldiers only while on their march through the country, and not to great
bodies of soldiers, to be fixed, as at present, in the province; the
burden in the latter case being greater than the inhabitants can bear;
that it would put it in the power of the captain-general to oppress the
province at pleasure, &c. But there is supposed to be another reason at
bottom, which they intimate, though they do not plainly express it, to
wit, that it is of the nature of an _internal tax_ laid on them by
Parliament, which has no right so to do. Their refusal is here called
_rebellion_, and punishment is thought of.

"Now, waving that point of right, and supposing the legislatures in
America subordinate to the legislatures of Great Britain, one might
conceive, I think, a power in the superior legislature to forbid the
inferior legislatures making particular laws; but to enjoin it to make a
particular law, contrary to its own judgment, seems improper; an
assembly or parliament not being an _executive_ officer of government,
whose duty it is, in law-making, to obey orders, but a _deliberative_
body, who are to consider what comes before them, its propriety,
practicability, or possibility, and to determine accordingly; the very
nature of a parliament seems to be destroyed by supposing it may be
bound and compelled by a law of a superior parliament to make a law
contrary to its own judgment.

"Indeed, the act of Parliament in question has not, as in other acts,
when a duty is enjoined, directed a penalty on neglect or refusal, and a
mode of recovering that penalty. It seems, therefore, to the people in
America as a requisition, which they are at liberty to comply with or
not, as it may suit or not suit the different circumstances of the
different provinces. Pennsylvania has, therefore, voluntarily complied.
New-York, as I said before, has refused. The ministry that made the act,
and all their adherents, call for vengeance. The present ministry are
perplexed, and the measures they will finally take on the occasion are
yet unknown. But sure I am that if _force_ is used great mischief will
ensue, the affections of the people of America to this country will be
alienated, your commerce will be diminished, and a total separation of
interests be the final consequence.

"It is a common but mistaken notion here, that the colonies were planted
at the expense of Parliament, and that, therefore, the Parliament has a
right to tax them, &c. The truth is, they were planted at the expense of
private adventurers, who went over there to settle, with leave of the
king, given by charter. On receiving this leave and those charters, the
adventurers voluntarily engaged to remain the king's subjects, though in
a foreign country; a country which had not been conquered by either king
or parliament, but was possessed by a free people.

"When our planters arrived, they purchased the lands of the natives,
without putting king or parliament to any expense. Parliament had no
hand in their settlement, was never so much as consulted about their
constitution, and took no kind of notice of them till many years after
they were established. I except only the two modern colonies, or,
rather, attempts to make colonies (for they succeed but poorly, and, as
yet, hardly deserve the name of colonies), I mean Georgia and Nova
Scotia, which have hitherto been little better than parliamentary jobs.
Thus all the colonies acknowledge the king as their sovereign; his
governors there represent his person: laws are made by their assemblies
or little parliaments, with the governor's assent, subject still to the
king's pleasure to affirm or annul them. Suits arising in the colonies,
and between colony and colony, are determined by the king in council. In
this view they seem so many separate little states, subject to the same
prince. The sovereignty of the king is therefore easily understood. But
nothing is more common here than to talk of the _sovereignty_ of
PARLIAMENT, and the sovereignty of this nation over the colonies; a kind
of sovereignty, the idea of which is not so clear, nor does it clearly
appear on what foundation it is established. On the other hand, it seems
necessary, for the common good of the empire, that a power be lodged
somewhere to regulate its general commerce; this can be placed nowhere
so properly as in the Parliament of Great Britain; and, therefore,
though that power has in some instances been executed with great
partiality to Britain and prejudice to the colonies, they have
nevertheless always submitted to it. Custom-houses are established in
all of them, by virtue of laws made here, and the duties instantly paid,
except by a few smugglers, such as are here and in all countries; but
internal taxes laid on them by Parliament are still, and ever will be,
objected to for the reason that you will see in the mentioned
examination.

"Upon the whole, I have lived so great a part of my life in Britain, and
have formed so many friendships in it, that I love it, and sincerely
wish it prosperity; and, therefore, wish to see that union on which
alone I think it can be secured and established. As to America, the
advantages of such a union to her are not so apparent. She may suffer at
present under the arbitrary power of this country; she may suffer for a
while in a separation from it; but these are temporary evils which she
will outgrow. Scotland and Ireland are differently circumstanced.
Confined by the sea, they can scarcely increase in numbers, wealth, and
strength, so as to overbalance England. But America, an immense
territory, favoured by nature with all advantages of climate, soils,
great navigable rivers, lakes, &c., must become a great country,
populous and mighty; and will, in a less time than is generally
conceived, be able to shake off any shackles that may be imposed upon
her, and, perhaps, place them on the imposers. In the mean time, every
act of oppression will sour their tempers, lessen greatly, if not
annihilate, the profits of your commerce with them, and hasten their
final revolt; for the seeds of liberty are universally found there, and
nothing can eradicate them. And yet there remains among that people so
much respect, veneration, and affection for Britain, that, if cultivated
prudently, with a kind usage and tenderness for their privileges, they
might be easily governed still for ages, without force or any
considerable expense. But I do not see here a sufficient quantity of the
wisdom that is necessary to produce such a conduct, and I lament the
want of it.

"I borrowed at Millar's the new edition of your _Principles of Equity_,
and have read with great pleasure the preliminary discourse on the
principles of morality. I have never before met with anything so
satisfactory on the subject. While reading it, I made a few remarks as I
went along. They are not of much importance, but I send you the paper.

"I know the lady you mention (Mrs. Montague), having, when in England
before, met her once or twice at Lord Bath's. I remember I then
entertained the same opinion of her that you express. On the strength of
your recommendation, I purpose soon to wait on her.

"This is unexpectedly grown a long letter. The visit to Scotland and the
_Art of Virtue_ we will talk of hereafter. It is now time to say that I
am, with increasing esteem and affection,

"B. FRANKLIN."[14]

[14] This letter was intercepted by the British ministry; Dr. F.
had preserved a copy of it, which was afterward transmitted to Lord
Kames; but the wisdom that composed and conveyed it was thrown away
upon the men at that time in power.

* * * * *

"_Lord Kames._

"London, February 21, 1769.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

"I received your excellent paper on the preferable use of oxen in
agriculture, and have put it in the way of being communicated to the
public here. I have observed in America that the farmers are more
thriving in those parts of the country where horned cattle are used,
than in those where the labour is done by horses. The latter are said to
require twice the quantity of land to maintain them and, after all, are
not good to eat--at least we don't think them so. Here is a waste of
land that might afford subsistence for so many of the human species.
Perhaps it was for this reason that the Hebrew lawgiver, having promised
that the children of Israel should be as numerous as the sands of the
sea, not only took care to secure the health of individuals by
regulating their diet, that they might be better fitted for producing
children, but also forbid their using horses, as those animals would
lessen the quantity of subsistence for man. Thus we find, when they took
any horses from their enemies, they destroyed them; and in the
commandments, where the labour of the ox and ass is mentioned, and
forbidden on the Sabbath, there is no mention of the horse, probably
because they were to have none. And by the great armies suddenly raised
in that small territory they inhabited, it appears to have been very
full of people.[15]

[15] There is not in the Jewish law any express prohibition
against the use of horses: it is only enjoined that the kings
should not multiply the breed, or carry on trade with Egypt for the
purchase of horses.--Deut. xvii., 16. Solomon was the first of the
kings of Judah who disregarded this ordinance. He had 40,000 stalls
of horses which he brought out of Egypt.--1 Kings iv., 26, and x.,
28. From this time downward horses were in constant use in the
Jewish armies. It is true that the country, from its rocky surface
and unfertile soil, was extremely unfit for the maintenance of
those animals.--_Note by Lord Kames._

"Food is _always_ necessary to _all_, and much the greatest part of the
labour of mankind is employed in raising provisions for the mouth. Is
not this kind of labour, then, the fittest to be the standard by which
to measure the values of all other labour, and, consequently, of all
other things whose value depends on the labour of making or procuring
them? may not even gold and silver be thus valued? If the labour of the
farmer, in producing a bushel of wheat, be equal to the labour of the
miner in producing an ounce of silver, will not the bushel of wheat just
measure the value of the ounce of silver. The miner must eat; the
farmer, indeed, can live without the ounce of silver, and so, perhaps,
will have some advantage in settling the price. But these discussions I
leave to you, as being more able to manage them: only, I will send you a
little scrap I wrote some time since on the laws prohibiting foreign
commodities.

"I congratulate you on your election as president of your Edinburgh
Society. I think I formerly took notice to you in conversation, that I
thought there had been some similarity in our fortunes and the
circumstances of our lives. This is a fresh instance, for by letters
just received I find that I was about the same time chosen President of
our American Philosophical Society, established at Philadelphia.[16]

[16] The American Philosophical Society was instituted in 1769, and
was formed by the union of two societies which had formerly
subsisted at Philadelphia, whose views and objects were of a
similar nature. Its members were classed in the following
committees:

1. Geography, Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, and Astronomy.

2. Medicine and Anatomy.

3. Natural History and Chymistry.

4. Trade and Commerce.

5. Mechanics and Architecture.

6. Husbandry and American Improvements.

Several volumes have been published of the transactions of this
American Society, in which are many papers by Dr. Franklin.--_Note
by Lord Kames._

"I have sent by sea, to the care of Mr. Alexander a little box
containing a few copies of the late edition of my books, for my friends
in Scotland. One is directed for you, and one for your society, which I
beg that you and they would accept as a small token of my respect.

"With the sincerest esteem and regard,
"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S.--I am sorry my letter of 1767, concerning the American disputes,
miscarried. I now send you a copy of it from my book. The examination
mentioned in it you have probably seen. Things daily wear a worse
aspect, and tend more and more to a breach and final separation."

* * * * *

"_John Alleyne._

"Craven-street, August 9, 1768.

"DEAR JACK,

"You desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the subject of an early
marriage, by way of answer to the numberless objections that have been
made by numerous persons to your own. You may remember, when you
consulted me on the occasion, that I thought youth on both sides to be
no objection. Indeed, from the marriages that have fallen under my
observation, I am rather inclined to think that early ones stand the
best chance of happiness. The temper and habits of the young are not yet
become so stiff and uncomplying as when more advanced in life; they form
more easily to each other, and hence many occasions of disgust are
removed. And if youth has less of that prudence which is necessary to
manage a family, yet the parents and elder friends of young married
persons are generally at hand to afford their advice, which amply
supplies that defect; and, by early marriage, youth is sooner formed to
regular and useful life; and possibly some of those accidents or
connexions, that might have injured the constitution or reputation, or
both, are thereby happily prevented. Particular circumstances of
particular persons may possibly, sometimes, make it prudent to delay
entering into that state; but, in general, when nature has rendered our
bodies fit for it, the presumption is in nature's favour, for she has
not judged amiss in making us desire it. Late marriages are often
attended, too, with this farther inconvenience, that there is not the
same chance that the parents shall live to see their offspring educated.
'_Late children_,' says the Spanish proverb, '_are early orphans_.' A
melancholy reflection to those whose case it may be! With us in America
marriages are generally in the morning of life; our children are
therefore educated and settled in the world by noon; and thus, our
business being done, we have an afternoon and evening of cheerful
leisure to ourselves, such as our friend at present enjoys. By these
early marriages we are blessed with more children; and from the mode
among us, founded by nature, of every mother suckling and nursing her
own child, more of them are raised. Thence the swift progress of
population among us, unparalleled in Europe. In fine, I am glad you are
married, and congratulate you most cordially upon it. You are now in the
way of becoming a useful citizen; and you have escaped the unnatural
state of celibacy for life--the fate of many here who never intended it,
but who, having too long postponed the change of their condition, find
at length that it is too late to think of it, and so live all their
lives in a situation that greatly lessens a man's value. An odd volume
of a set of books bears not the value of its proportion to the set: what
think you of the odd half of a pair of scissors? it can't well cut
anything; it may possibly serve to scrape a trencher.

"Pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable to your bride. I am
old and heavy, or I should, ere this, have presented them in person. I
shall make but small use of the old man's privilege, that of giving
advice to younger friends. Treat your wife always with respect; it will
procure respect to you, not only from her, but from all that observe it.
Never use a slighting expression to her, even in jest; for slights in
jest, after frequent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earnest. Be
studious in your profession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and
frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you will be
healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. At least, you
will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for such consequences.

"I pray God to bless you both, being ever your affectionate friend,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Governor Franklin._

"London, Dec. 19, 1767.

"DEAR SIR,

"The resolutions of the Boston people concerning trade make a great
noise here. Parliament has not yet taken notice of them, but the
newspapers are in full cry against America. Colonel Onslow told me at
court last Sunday, that I could not conceive how much the friends of
America were run upon and hurt by them, and how much the Grenvillians
triumphed. I have just written a paper for next Thursday's Chronicle,
to extenuate matters a little.

"Mentioning Colonel Onslow reminds me of something that passed at the
beginning of this session in the house between him and Mr. Grenville.
The latter had been raving against America, as traitorous, rebellious,
&c., when the former, who has always been its firm friend, stood up and
gravely said, that in reading the Roman history, he found it was a
custom among that wise and magnanimous people, whenever the senate was
informed of any discontent in the provinces, to send two or three of
their body into the discontented provinces to inquire into the
grievances complained of, and report to the senate, that mild measures
might be used to remedy what was amiss before any severe steps were
taken to enforce obedience. That this example he thought worthy our
imitation in the present state of our colonies, for he did so far agree
with the honourable gentleman that spoke just before him as to allow
there were great discontents among them. He should therefore beg leave
to move, that two or three members of Parliament be appointed to go over
to New-England on this service. And that it might not be supposed he was
for imposing burdens on others that he would not be willing to bear
himself, he did at the same time declare his own willingness, if the
house should think fit to appoint them, to go over thither _with that
honourable gentleman_. Upon this there was a great laugh, which
continued some time, and was rather increased by Mr. Grenville's asking,
'Will the gentleman engage that I shall be safe there? Can I be assured
that I shall be allowed to come back again to make the report?' As soon
as the laugh was so far subsided as that Mr. Onslow could be heard
again, he added, 'I cannot absolutely engage for the honourable
gentleman's safe return; but if he goes thither upon this service, I am
strongly of opinion the _event_ will contribute greatly to the future
quiet of both countries.' On which the laugh was renewed and redoubled.

"If our people should follow the Boston example in entering into
resolutions of frugality and industry, full as necessary for us as for
them, I hope they will, among other things, give this reason, that 'tis
to enable them more speedily and effectually to discharge their debts to
Great Britain; this will soften a little, and, at the same time, appear
honourable, and like ourselves. Yours, &c.,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To Dr. Priestley._

"Passy, June 7, 1782.

"DEAR SIR,

"I received your kind letter of the 7th April, also one of the 3d of
May. I have always great pleasure in hearing from you, in learning that
you are well, and that you continue your experiments. I should rejoice
much if I could once more recover the leisure to search with you into
the works of nature; I mean the inanimate or moral part of them: the
more I discovered of the former, the more I admired them; the more I
know of the latter, the more I am disgusted with them. Men I find to be
a sort of beings very badly constructed, as they are generally more
easily provoked than reconciled, more disposed to do mischief to each
other than to make reparation, much more easily deceived than
undeceived, and having more pride and even pleasure in killing than in
begetting one another. * * * In what light we are viewed by superior
beings, may be gathered from a piece of late West India news, which,
possibly, has not yet reached you. A young angel being sent down to this
world on some business for the first time, had an old courier-spirit
assigned him as a guide; they arrived over the seas of Martinico, in the
middle of the long day of obstinate fight between the fleets of Rodney
and De Grasse. When through the clouds of smoke he saw the fire of the
guns, the decks covered with mangled limbs, and bodies dead or dying,
the ships sinking, burning, or blown into the air, and the quantity of
pain, misery, and destruction, the crews yet alive were thus with so
much eagerness dealing round to one another, he turned angrily to his
guide, and said, you blundering blockhead, you are ignorant of your
business; you undertook to conduct me to the earth, and you have brought
me into hell! No, sir, says the guide, I have made no mistake; this is
really the earth, and these are men. Devils never treat one another in
this cruel manner; they have more sense, and more of what men (vainly)
call humanity.

"But to be serious, my dear old friend, I love you as much as ever, and
I love all the honest souls that meet at the London Coffee-house. I only
wonder how it happened that they and my other friends in England came to
be such good creatures in the midst of so perverse a generation. I long
to see them and you once more, and I labour for peace with more
earnestness, that I may again be happy in your sweet society. * * *

"Yesterday the _Count du Nord_[17] was at the Academy of Sciences, when
sundry experiments were exhibited for his entertainment; among them, one
by M. Lavoisier, to show that the strongest fire we yet know is made in
charcoal blown upon with dephlogisticated air. In a heat so produced, he
melted platina presently, the fire being much more powerful than that of
the strongest burning mirror. Adieu, and believe me ever, yours most
affectionately,

[17] The Grand-duke of Russia, afterward the Emperor Paul I.

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_To the same._

"London, September 19, 1772.

"DEAR SIR,

"In the affair of so much importance to you, wherein you ask my advice,
I cannot, for want of sufficient premises, counsel you _what_ to
determine; but, if you please, I will tell you _how_. When those
difficult cases occur, they are difficult chiefly because, while we have
them under consideration, all the reasons, _pro_ and _con_, are not
present to the mind at the same time; but sometimes one set present
themselves, and at other times another, the first being out of sight.
Hence the various purposes or inclinations that alternately prevail, and
the uncertainty that perplexes us. To get over this, my way is, to
divide half a sheet of paper by a line into two columns, writing over
the one _pro_ and over the other _con_: then, during three or four days'
consideration, I put down under the different heads short hints of the
different motives that at different times occur to me _for_ or _against_
the measure. When I have thus got them all together in one view, I
endeavour to estimate their respective weights, and where I find two
(one on each side), that seem equal, I strike them both out. If I find a
reason _pro_ equal to some _two_ reasons _con_ I strike out the _three_.
If I judge some _two_ reasons _con_ equal to some _three_ reasons _pro_,
I strike out the _five_; and, thus proceeding, I find at length where
the _balance_ lies; and if, after a day or two of farther consideration,
nothing new that is of importance occurs on either side, I come to a
determination accordingly. And though the weight of reasons cannot be
taken with the precision of algebraic quantities, yet, when each is thus
considered separately and comparatively, and the whole lies before me, I
think I can judge better, and am less liable to make a rash step; and,
in fact, I have found great advantage from this kind of equation, in
what may be called moral or _prudential algebra_.

"Wishing sincerely that you may determine for the best, I am ever, my
dear friend, yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Mr. Mather, Boston._

"London, July, 4, 1773.

"REVEREND SIR,

"The remarks you have added on the late proceedings against America are
very just and judicious; and I cannot see any impropriety in your making
them, though a minister of the gospel. This kingdom is a good deal
indebted for its liberties to the public spirit of its ancient clergy,
who joined with the barons in obtaining Magna Charta, and joined
heartily in forming the curses of excommunication against the infringers
of it. There is no doubt but the claim of Parliament, of authority to
make laws _binding on the colonies in all cases whatsoever_, includes an
authority to change our religious constitution, and establish popery or
Mohammedanism, if they please, in its stead; but, as you intimate,
_power_ does not infer _right_; and as the _right_ is nothing and the
_power_ (by our increase) continually diminishing, the one will soon be
as insignificant as the _other_. You seem only to have made a small
mistake in supposing they modestly avoided to declare they had a right,
the words of the act being, 'that they have, and of _right_ ought to
have, full power,' &c.

"Your suspicion that sundry others besides Governor Bernard 'had written
hither their opinions and councils, encouraging the late measures to the
prejudice of our country, which have been too much needed and followed,'
is, I apprehend, but too well founded. You call them 'traitorous
individuals,' whence I collect that you suppose them of our own
country. There was among the twelve apostles one traitor, who betrayed
with a kiss. It should be no wonder, therefore, if among so many
thousand true patriots as New-England contains, there should be found
even twelve Judases ready to betray their country for a few paltry
pieces of silver. Their _ends_, as well as their views, ought to be
similar. But all the oppressions evidently work for our good. Providence
seems by every means intent on making us a great people. May our
virtues, public and private, grow with us and be durable, that liberty,
civil and religious, may be secured to our posterity, and to all from
every part of the Old World that take refuge among us.

"With great esteem, and my best wishes for a long continuance of your
usefulness, I am, reverend sir, your most obedient, humble servant,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Mr. Strahan._

"Philadelphia, July 5, 1775.

"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,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Dr. Priestley._

"Philadelphia, October 3, 1775

"DEAR SIR,

"I am bound to sail to-morrow for the camp,[18] and, having but just
heard of this opportunity, can only write a line to say that I am well
and hearty. Tell our dear good friend, Dr. Price, who sometimes has his
doubts and despondencies about our firmness, that America is determined
and unanimous; a very few tories and placemen excepted, who will
probably soon export themselves. Britain, at the expense of three
millions, has killed one hundred and fifty Yankees this campaign, which
is 20,000_l._ a head; and at Bunker's Hill she gained a mile of ground,
half of which she lost again by our taking post on Ploughed Hill. During
the same time sixty thousand children have been born in America. From
these _data_ his mathematical head will easily calculate the time and
expense necessary to kill us all and conquer our whole territory. My
sincere repects to * *, and to the club of honest whigs at * *. Adieu.

[18] Dr. Franklin, Colonel Harrison, and Mr. Lynch, were at this
time appointed by Congress (of which they were members) to confer
on certain subjects with General Washington. The American army was
then employed in blocking up General Howe in Boston; and it was
during this visit that General Washington communicated the
following memorable anecdote to Dr. Franklin, viz., "that there had
been a time when his army had been so destitute of military stores
as not to have powder enough in all its magazines to furnish more
than five rounds per man for their small arms." Artillery were out
of the question: they were fired now and then, only to show that
they had them. Yet this secret was kept with so much address and
good countenance from both armies, that General Washington was
enabled effectually to continue the blockade.

"I am ever yours most affectionately,
"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Mrs. Thompson, at Lisle._

Paris, February 8, 1777.

"You are too early, _hussy_, as well as too saucy, in calling me
_rebel_; you should wait for the event, which will determine whether it
is a _rebellion_ or only a _revolution_. Here the ladies are more
civil; they call us _les insurgens_, a character that usually pleases
them; and methinks all other women who smart, or have smarted, under the
tyranny of a bad husband, ought to be fixed in _revolution_ principles,
and act accordingly.

"In my way to Canada last spring, I saw dear Mrs. Barrow at New-York.
Mr. Barrow had been from her two or three months, to keep Governor Tryon
and other tories company on board the Asia, one of the king's ships
which lay in the harbour; and in all that time that naughty man had not
ventured once on shore to see her. Our troops were then pouring into the
town, and she was packing up to leave it; fearing, as she had a large
house, they would incommode her by quartering officers in it. As she
appeared in great perplexity, scarce knowing where to go, I persuaded
her to stay; and I went to the general officers then commanding there,
and recommended her to their protection; which they promised and
performed. On my return from Canada, where I was a piece of a governor
(and, I think, a very good one) for a fortnight, and might have been so
till this time if your wicked army, enemies to all good government, had
not come and driven me out, I found her still in quiet possession of her
house. I inquired how our people had behaved to her; she spoke in high
terms of the respectful attention they had paid her, and the quiet and
security they had procured her. I said I was glad of it, and that, if
they had used her ill, I would have turned tory. Then, said she (with
that pleasing gayety so natural to her), _I wish they had_. For you must
know she is a _toryess_ as well as you, and can as flippantly say
_rebel_. I drank tea with her; we talked affectionately of you and our
other friends the Wilkes, of whom she had received no late intelligence;
what became of her since, I have not heard. The street she lived in was
some months after chiefly burned down; but as the town was then, and
ever since has been, in possession of the king's troops, I have had no
opportunity of knowing whether she suffered any loss in the
conflagration. I hope she did not, as if she did, I should wish I had
not persuaded her to stay there. I am glad to learn from you, that that
unhappy but deserving family, the W.'s, are getting into some business
that may afford them subsistence. I pray that God will bless them, and
that they may see happier days. Mr. Cheap's and Dr. H.'s good fortunes
please me. Pray learn, if you have not already learned, like me, to be
pleased with other people's pleasures, and happy with their happiness
when none occur of your own; then, perhaps, you will not so soon be
weary of the place you chance to be in, and so fond of rambling to get
rid of your _ennui_. I fancy you have hit upon the right reason of your
being weary of St. Omer's, viz., that you are out of temper, which is
the effect of full living and idleness. A month in Bridewell, beating
hemp, upon bread and water, would give you health and spirits, and
subsequent cheerfulness and contentment with every other situation. I
prescribe that regimen for you, my dear, in pure good-will, without a
fee. And, let me tell you, if you do not get into temper, neither
Brussels nor Lisle will suit you. I know nothing of the price of living
in either of those places; but I am sure a single woman as you are
might, with economy, upon two hundred pounds a year, maintain herself
comfortably anywhere, and me into the bargain. Do not invite me in
earnest, however, to come and live with you, for, being posted here, I
ought not to comply, and I am not sure I should be able to refuse.
Present my respects to Mrs. Payne and Mrs. Heathcoat; for, though I have
not the honour of knowing them, yet as you say they are friends to the
American cause, I am sure they must be women of good understanding. I
know you wish you could see me, but as you can't, 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 forhead 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 paid to them. You see the gentry might
well afford this, and I could then enlist these friseurs, (who are at
least 100,000), and with the money I would maintain them, make a visit
with them to England, and dress the heads of your ministers and privy
counsellors; which I conceive at present to be _un peu derangées_.
Adieu! madcap, and believe me ever your affectionate friend and humble
servant,

"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S.--Don't be proud of this long letter. A fit of the gout, which has
confined me five days, and made me refuse to see company, has given me
little time to trifle; otherwise it would have been very short; visiters
and business would have interrupted: and, perhaps, with Mrs. Barrow, you
wish they had."

* * * * *

"_To Mr. Lith._

"Passy, near Paris, April 6, 1777.

"SIR,

"I have just been honoured with a letter from you, dated the 26th past,
in which you express yourself as astonished, and appear to be angry that
you have no answer to a letter you wrote me of the 11th of December,
which you are sure was delivered to me.

"In exculpation of myself, I assure you that I never received any letter
from you of this date. And, indeed, being then but four days landed at
Nantes, I think you could scarce have heard so soon of my being in
Europe.

"But I received one from you of the 8th of January, which I own I did
not answer. It may displease you if I give you the reason; but as it may
be of use to you in your future correspondences, I will hazard that for
a gentleman to whom I feel myself obliged, as an American, on account of
his good-will to our cause.

"Whoever writes to a stranger should observe three points: 1. That what
he proposes be practicable. 2. His propositions should be made in
explicit terms, so as to be easily understood. 3. What he desires,
should be in itself reasonable. Hereby he will give a favourable
impression of his understanding, and create a desire of farther
acquaintance. Now it happened that you were negligent in _all_ these
points: for, first, you desired to have means procured for you of taking
a voyage to America '_avec sureté_,[19] which is not possible, as the
dangers of the sea subsist always, and at present there is the
additional danger of being taken by the English. Then you desire that
this may be '_sans trop grandes dépenses_,'[20] which is not
intelligible enough to be answered, because, not knowing your ability of
bearing expenses, one cannot judge what may be _trop grandes_. Lastly,
you desire letters of address to the Congress and to General Washington,
which it is not reasonable to ask of one who knows no more of you than
that your name is LITH, and that you live at BAYREUTH.

[19] With safety.

[20] Without too great expense.

"In your last, you also express yourself in vague terms when you desire
to be informed whether you may expect '_d'étre reçu d'une maniére
cenvenable_'[21] in our troops. As it is impossible to know what your
ideas are of the _maniére convenable_, how can one answer this? And then
you demand whether I will support you by my authority in giving you
letters of recommendation. I doubt not your being a man of merit, and,
knowing it yourself, you may forget that it is not known to everybody;
but reflect a moment, sir, and you will be convinced, that if I were to
practise giving letters of recommendation to persons whose character I
knew no more than I do of yours, my recommendations would soon be of no
authority at all.

[21] To be received in a suitable manner.

"I thank you, however, for your kind desire of being serviceable to my
countrymen, and I wish, in return, that I could be of service to you in
the scheme you have formed of going to America. But numbers of
experienced officers here have offered to go over and join our army, and
I could give them no encouragement, because I have no orders for that
purpose, and I know it is extremely difficult to place them when they
come there. I cannot but think, therefore, that it is best for you not
to make so long, so expensive, and so hazardous a voyage, but to take
the advice of your friends and _stay in Franconia_. I have the honour to
be, sir, &c.,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_Answer to a letter from Brussels._

"_Passy_, July 1, 1778.

"SIR,

"I received your letter dated at Brussels the 16th past.

"My vanity might possibly be flattered by your expressions of compliment
to my understanding, if your proposals did not more clearly manifest a
mean opinion of it.

"You conjure me, in the name of the omniscient and just God, before whom
I must appear, and by my hopes of future fame, to consider if some
expedient cannot be found to put a stop to the desolation of America,
and prevent the miseries of a general war. As I am conscious of having
taken every step in my power to prevent the breach, and no one to widen
it, I can appear cheerfully before that God, fearing nothing from his
justice in this particular, though I have much occasion for his mercy in
many others. As to my future fame, I am content to rest it on my past
and present conduct, without seeking an addition to it in the crooked,
dark paths you propose to me, where I should most certainly lose it.
This your solemn address would, therefore, have been more properly made
to your sovereign and his venal parliament. He and they, who wickedly
began and madly continue a war for the desolation of America, are
accountable for the consequences.

"You endeavour to impress me with a bad opinion of French faith; but the
instances of their friendly endeavours to serve a race of weak princes,
who by their own imprudence defeated every attempt to promote their
interest, weigh but little with me when I consider the steady friendship
of France to the thirteen United States of Switzerland, which has now
continued inviolate two hundred years. You tell me that she will
certainly cheat us, and that she despises us already. I do not believe
that she will cheat us, and I am not certain that she despises us: but I
see clearly that you are endeavouring to cheat us by your conciliatory
bills; that you actually despised our understandings when you flattered
yourselves those artifices would succeed; and that not only France, but
all Europe, yourselves included, most certainly and for ever, would
despise us if we were weak enough to accept your insidious
propositions.

"Our expectations of the future grandeur of America are not so
magnificent, and, therefore, not so vain and visionary, as you represent
them to be. The body of our people are not merchants, but humble
husbandmen, who delight in the cultivation of their lands, which, from
their fertility and the variety of our climates, are capable of
furnishing all the necessaries of life without external commerce; and we
have too much land to have the slightest temptation to extend our
territory by conquest from peaceable neighbours, as well as too much
justice to think of it. Our militia, you find by experience, are
sufficient to defend our lands from invasion; and the commerce with us
will be defended by all the nations who find an advantage in it. We
therefore have not the occasion you imagine, of fleets or standing
armies, but may leave those expensive machines to be maintained for the
pomp of princes and the wealth of ancient states. We propose, if
possible, to live in peace with all mankind; and, after you have been
convinced, to your cost, that there is nothing to be got by attacking
us, we have reason to hope that no other power will judge it prudent to
quarrel with us, lest they divert us from our own quiet industry, and
turn us into corsairs preying upon theirs. The weight, therefore, of an
independent empire, which you seem certain of our inability to bear,
will not be so great as you imagine. The expense of our civil government
we have always borne, and can easily bear, because it is small. A
virtuous and laborious people may be cheaply governed. Determining as we
do to have no offices of profit, nor any sinecures or useless
appointments, so common in ancient and corrupted states, we can govern
ourselves a year for the sum you pay in a single department, or for what
one jobbing contractor, by the favour of a minister, can cheat you out
of in a single article.

"You think we flatter ourselves, and are deceived into an opinion that
England _must_ acknowledge our independence. We, on the other hand,
think you flatter yourselves in imagining such an acknowledgment a vast
boon which we strongly desire, and which you may gain some great
advantage by granting or withholding. We have never asked it of you. We
only tell you that you can have no treaty with us but as an independent
state; and you may please yourselves and your children with the rattle
of your right to govern us, as long as you have with that of your king
being king of France, without giving us the least concern if you do not
attempt to exercise it. That this pretended right is indisputable, as
you say, we utterly deny. Your parliament never had a right to govern
us, and your king has forfeited it by his bloody tyranny. But I thank
you for letting me know a little of your mind, that even if the
Parliament should acknowledge our independence, the act would not be
binding to posterity, and that your nation would resume and prosecute
the claim as soon as they found it convenient from the influence of your
passions and your present malice against us. We suspected before that
you would not be bound by your conciliatory acts longer than till they
had served their purpose of inducing us to disband our forces; but we
were not certain that you were knaves by principle, and that we ought
not to have the least confidence in your offers, promises, or treaties,
though confirmed by Parliament. I now indeed recollect my being
informed, long since, when in England, that a certain very great
personage, then young, studied much a certain book, entitled _Arcana
imperii_ [_Secrets of governing_]. I had the curiosity to procure the
book and read it. There are sensible and good things in it, but some bad
ones; for, if I remember right, a particular king is applauded for his
politically exciting a rebellion among his subjects at a time when they
had not strength to support it, that he might, in subduing them, take
away their privileges which were troublesome to him: and a question is
formally stated and discussed, _Whether a prince, to appease a revolt,
makes promises of indemnity to the revolters, is obliged to fulfil those
promises?_ Honest and good men would say ay; but this politician says as
you say, no. And he gives this pretty reason, that though it was right
to make the promises, because otherwise the revolt would not be
suppressed, yet it would be wrong to keep them, because revolters ought
to be punished to deter future revolts. If these are the principles of
your nation, no confidence can be placed in you; it is in vain to treat
with you, and the wars can only end in being reduced to an utter
inability of continuing them.

"One main drift of your letter seems to be to impress me with an idea of
your own impartiality, by just censures of your ministers and measures,
and to draw from me propositions of peace, or approbations of those you
have enclosed me, which you intimate may by your means be conveyed to
the king directly, without the intervention of those ministers. Would
you have me give them to, or drop them for a stranger I may find next
Monday in the Church of Notre Dame, to be known by a rose in his hat?
You yourself, sir, are quite unknown to me; you have not trusted me with
your right name. Our taking the least step towards a treaty with
England, through you, might, if you are an enemy, be made use of to ruin
us with our new and good friends. I may be indiscreet enough in many
things, but certainly, if I were disposed to make propositions (which I
cannot do, having none committed to me to make), I should never think of
delivering them to the Lord knows who, to be carried the Lord knows
where, to serve no one knows what purposes. Being at this time one of
the most remarkable figures in Paris, even my appearance in the Church
of Notre Dame, where I cannot have any conceivable business, and
especially being seen to leave or drop any letter to any person there
would be a matter of some speculation, and might, from the suspicions it
must naturally give, have very mischievous consequences to our credit
here. The very proposing of a correspondence so to be managed, in a
manner not necessary where _fair dealing_ is intended, gives just reason
to suppose you intend the _contrary_. Besides, as your court has sent
commissioners to treat with the Congress, with all the powers that would
be given them by the crown under the act of Parliament, what _good
purpose_ can be served by privately obtaining propositions from us?
Before those commissioners went, we might have treated in virtue of our
general powers (with the knowledge, advice, and approbation of our
friends), upon any propositions made to us. But, under the present
circumstances, for us to make propositions while a treaty is supposed to
be actually on foot with the Congress, would be extremely improper,
highly presumptuous with regard to our honourable constituents, and
answer no good end whatever.

"I write this letter to you, notwithstanding (which I think I can convey
in a less mysterious manner; and guess it may come to your hands); I
write it because I would let you know our sense of your procedure, which
appears as insidious as that of your conciliatory bills. Your true way
to obtain peace, if your ministers desire it, is to propose openly to
the Congress fair and equal terms; and you may possibly come sooner to
such a resolution, when you find that personal flatteries, general
cajolings, and panegyrics on our _virtue_ and _wisdom_ are not likely to
have the effect you seem to expect; the persuading us to act _basely_
and _foolishly_ in betraying our country and posterity into the hands
of our most bitter enemies; giving up or selling of our arms and
warlike stores, dismissing our ships of war and troops, and putting
those enemies in possession of our forts and ports. This proposition of
delivering ourselves, bound and gagged, ready for hanging, without even
a right to complain, and without even a friend to be found afterward
among all mankind, you would have us embrace on the faith of an act of
Parliament! Good God! an act of your Parliament! This demonstrates that
you do not yet know us, and that you fancy we do not know you: but it is
not merely this flimsy faith that we are to act upon; you offer us
_hope_, the hope of PLACES, PENSIONS, and PEERAGE. These, judging from
yourselves, you think are motives irresistible. This offer to corrupt
us, sir, is with me your credential, and convinces me that you are not a
private volunteer in your application. It bears the stamp of British
court intrigue, and the signature of your king. But think for a moment
in what light it must be viewed in America. By places which cannot come
among us, for you take care by a special article to keep them to
yourselves. We must then pay the salaries in order to enrich ourselves
with these places. But you will give us PENSIONS; probably to be paid,
too, out of your expected American revenue; and which none of us can
accept without deserving, and, perhaps, obtaining a _suspension_.
PEERAGES! Alas! sir, our long observation of the vast servile majority
of your peers, voting constantly for every measure proposed by a
minister, however weak or wicked, leaves us small respect for them, and
we consider it a sort of tar-and-feathered honour, or a mixture of
foulness and folly; which every man among us who should accept from your
king, would be obliged to renounce or exchange for that conferred by the
mobs of their own country, or wear it with everlasting shame.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Dr. Price, London._

"Passy, February 6, 1780.

"DEAR SIR,

"I received but very lately your kind favour of October 14. Dr.
Ingenhausz, who brought it, having stayed long in Holland. I sent the
enclosed directly to Mr. L. It gave me great pleasure to understand that
you continue well. Your writings, after all the abuse you and they have
met with, begin to make serious impressions on those who at first
rejected the counsels you gave; and they will acquire new weight every
day, and be in high esteem when the cavils against them are dead and
forgotten. Please to present my affectionate respects to that honest,
sensible, and intelligent society, who did me so long the honour of
admitting me to share in their instructive conversations. I never think
of the hours I so happily spent in that company, without regretting that
they are never to be repeated; for I see no prospect of an end to this
unhappy war in my time. Dr. Priestley, you tell me, continues his
experiments with success. We make daily great improvements in
_natural_--there is one I wish to see in _moral_ philosophy; the
discovery of a plan that would induce and oblige nations to settle their
disputes without first cutting one another's throats. When will human
reason be sufficiently improved to see the advantage of this? When will
men be convinced that even successful wars at length become misfortunes
to those who unjustly commenced them, and who triumphed blindly in their
success, not seeing all its consequences. Your great comfort and mine in
this war is, that we honestly and faithfully did everything in our power
to prevent it. Adieu, and believe me ever, my dear friend, yours, &c.,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Dr. Priestley._

"Passy, February 8, 1780.

"DEAR SIR,

"Your kind letter of September 27 came to hand but very lately, the
bearer having stayed long in Holland.

"I always rejoice to hear of your being still employed in experimental
researches into nature, and of the success you meet with. The rapid
progress _true_ science now makes, occasions my regretting sometimes
that I was born so soon: it is impossible to imagine the height to which
may be carried, in a thousand years, the power of man over matter; we
may perhaps learn to deprive large masses of their gravity, and give
them absolute levity for the sake of easy transport. Agriculture may
diminish its labour and double its produce; all diseases may by sure
means be prevented or cured (not excepting even that of old age), and
our lives lengthened at pleasure even beyond the antediluvian standard.
Oh! that moral science were in as fair a way of improvement; that men
would cease to be wolves to one another; and that human beings would at
length learn what they now improperly call humanity!

"I am glad that my little paper on the Aurora Borealis pleased. If it
should occasion farther inquiry, and so produce a better hypothesis, it
will not be wholly useless.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

[Enclosed in the foregoing letter; being an answer to a separate
paper received from Dr. Priestley]

"I have considered the situation of that person very attentively; I
think that, with a little help from the _Moral Algebra_, he might form
a better judgment than any other person can form for him. But, since my
opinion seems to be desired, I give it for continuing to the end of the
term, under all the present disagreeable circumstances: the connexion
will then die a natural death. No reason will be expected to be given
for the separation, and, of course, no offence taken at reasons given;
the friendship may still subsist, and, in some other way, be useful. The
time diminishes daily, and is usefully employed. All human situations
have their inconveniences; we _feel_ those that we find in the present,
and we neither _feel_ nor _see_ those that exist in another. Hence we
make frequent and troublesome changes without amendment, and often for
the worse. In my youth, I was passenger in a little sloop descending the
river Delaware. There being no wind, we were obliged, when the ebb was
spent, to cast anchor and wait for the next. The heat of the sun on the
vessel was excessive, the company strangers to me, and not very
agreeable. Near the river-side I saw what I took to be a pleasant green
meadow, in the middle of which was a large shady tree, where it struck
my fancy I could sit and read (having a book in my pocket), and pass the
time agreeably till the tide turned; I therefore prevailed with the
captain to put me ashore. Being landed, I found the greatest part of my
meadow was really a marsh, in crossing which, to come at my tree, I was
up to my knees in mire: and I had not placed myself under its shade five
minutes before the moschetoes in swarms found me out, attacked my legs,
hands, and face, and made my reading and my rest impossible; so that I
returned to the beach, and called for the boat to come and take me on
board again, where I was obliged to bear the heat I had strove to quit,
and also the laugh of the company. Similar cases in the affairs of life
have since frequently fallen under my observation.

"I have had thoughts of a college for him in America; I know no one who
might be more useful to the public in the institution of youth. But
there are possible unpleasantnesses in that situation: it cannot be
obtained but by a too hazardous voyage at this time for a family: and
the time for experiments would be all otherwise engaged.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To General Washington._

"Passy, March 5, 1780

"SIR,

"I received but lately the letter your excellency did me the honour of
writing to me in recommendation of the Marquis de Lafayette. His modesty
detained it long in his own hands. We became acquainted, however, from
the time of his arrival at Paris; and his zeal for the honour of our
country, his activity in our affairs here, and his firm attachment to
our cause and to you, impressed me with the same regard and esteem for
him that your excellency's letter would have done had it been
immediately delivered to me.

"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 most ancient and famous kingdoms. You would, on this side the
sea, enjoy the great reputation you have acquired, pure and free from
those little shades that the jealousy and envy of a man's countrymen and
contemporaries are ever endeavouring to cast over living merit. Here you
would know and enjoy what posterity will say of Washington. For a
thousand leagues have nearly the same effect with a thousand years. The
feeble voice of those grovelling passions cannot extend so far either
in time or distance. At present I enjoy that pleasure for you, as I
frequently hear the old generals of this martial country (who study the
maps of America, and mark upon them all your operations) speak with
sincere approbation and great applause of your conduct, and join in
giving you the character of one of the greatest captains of the age.

"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 discoloured, and which in that weak state, by a
thunder-gust of violent wind, hail, and rain, seemed to be threatened
with absolute destruction; yet the storm being past, it recovers fresh
verdure, shoots up with double vigour, and delights the eye not of its
owner only, but of every observing traveller.

"The best wishes that can be formed for your health, honour, and
happiness, ever attend you, from yours, &c.,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To M. Court de Gebelin,[22] Paris._

[22] Antoine Court de Gebelin, born at Nismes in 1725, became a
minister of a Protestant communion in the Cevennes, then at
Lausanne: he quitted the clerical function for literature, at
Paris, where he acquired so great a reputation as an antiquary and
philosopher that he was appointed to attend one of the museums. His
reputation suffered by his zeal in favour of animal magnetism. He
died at Paris, May 13, 1784. His great work is entitled, "Monde
Primitif, analysé et comparé avec le Monde Moderne," 9 tom. 4to.
The excellence of his character may be appreciated from the fact,
that, on quitting Switzerland, he voluntarily gave to his sister
the principal part of his patrimony, reserving but little for
himself, and relying for a maintenance upon the exercise of his
talents.

"Passy, May 7, 1781.

"DEAR SIR,

"I am glad the little book[23] proved acceptable. It does not appear to
me intended for a grammar to teach the language. It is rather what we
call in English a _spelling-book_, in which the only method observed is
to arrange the words according to their number of syllables, placing
those of one syllable together, and those of two syllables, and so on.
And it is to be observed that _Sa ki ma_, for instance, is not three
words, but one word of three syllables; and the reason that _hyphens_
are not placed between the syllables is, that the printer had not enough
of them.

[23] A Vocabulary of the Language of one of the Indian Tribes in
North America.

"As the Indians had no letters, they had no orthography. The Delaware
language being differently spelt from the Virginian, may not always
arise from a difference in the languages; for strangers who learn the
language of an Indian nation, finding no orthography, are at liberty, in
writing the language, to use such compositions of letters as they think
will best produce the sounds of the words. I have observed that our
Europeans of different nations, who learn the same Indian language,
form each his own orthography according to the usual sounds given to
the letters in his own language. Thus the same words of the Mohock
language written by an English, a French, and a German interpreter,
often differ very much in the spelling; and without knowing the usual
powers of the letters in the language of the interpreter, one cannot
come at the pronunciation of the Indian words. The spelling-book in
question was, I think, written by a German.

"You mention a Virginian Bible. Is it not the Bible of the Massachusetts
language, translated by Elliot, and printed in New-England about the
middle of the last century? I know this Bible, but have never heard of
one in the Virginian language. Your observation of the similitude
between many of the words and those of the ancient world, are indeed
very curious.

"This inscription, which you find to be Phoenician, is, I think, near
_Taunton_ (not Jannston, as you write it). There is some account of it
in the old Philosophical Transactions; I have never been at the place,
but shall be glad to see your remarks on it.

"The compass appears to have been long known in China before it was
known in Europe; unless we suppose it known to Homer, who makes the
prince that lent ships to Ulysses boast that they had a _spirit_ in
them, by whose directions they could find their way in a cloudy day or
the darkest night. If any Phoenicians arrived in America, I should
rather think it was not by the accident of a storm, but in the course of
their long and adventurous voyages; and that they coasted from Denmark
and Norway, over to Greenland, and down southward by Newfoundland, Nova
Scotia, &c., to New-England, as the Danes themselves certainly did some
ages before Columbus.

"Our new American society will be happy in the correspondence you
mention; and when it is possible for me, I shall be glad to attend the
meetings of your society,[24] which I am sure must be very instructive.

[24] L'Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Letters.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To Francis Hopkinson, Philadelphia._

"Passy, September 13, 1781.

"DEAR SIR,

"I have received your kind letter of July 17, with its duplicate,
enclosing those for Messrs. Brandlight and Sons, which I have forwarded.
I am sorry for the loss of the _squibs_. Everything of yours gives me
pleasure.

"As to the friends and enemies you just mention, I have hitherto, thanks
to God, had plenty of the former kind; they have been my treasure; and
it has, perhaps, been of no disadvantage to me that I have had a few of
the latter. They serve to put us upon correcting the faults we have, and
avoiding those we are in danger of having. They counter-act the mischief
flattery might do us, and their malicious attacks make our friends more
zealous in serving us and promoting our interest. At present I do not
know of more than two such enemies that I enjoy, viz., *** and ***. I
deserved the enmity of the latter, because I might have avoided it by
paying him a compliment, which I neglected. That to the former I owe to
the people of France, who happened to respect me too much and him too
little; which I could bear, and he could not. They are unhappy that they
cannot make everybody hate me as much as they do; and I should be so if
my friends did not love me much more than those gentlemen can possibly
love one another.

"Enough of this subject. Let me know if you are in possession of my
gimcrack instruments, and if you have made any new experiments. I lent,
many years ago, a large glass globe, mounted, to Mr. Coombe, and an
electric battery of bottles, which I remember; perhaps there were some
other things. He may have had them so long as to think them his own.
Pray ask him for them, and keep them for me, together with the rest.

"You have a new crop of prose writers. I see in your papers many of
their fictitious names, but nobody tells me the real. You will oblige me
by a little of your literary history. Adieu, my dear friend, and believe
me ever, yours affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To Francis Hopkinson._

"Paris, Dec 24, 1782.

"I thank you for your ingenious paper in favour of the trees. I own I
now wish we had two rows of them in every one of our streets. The
comfortable shelter they would afford us when walking from our burning
summer suns, and the greater coolness of our walls and pavements, would,
I conceive, in the improved health of the inhabitants, amply compensate
the loss of a house now and then by fire, if such should be the
consequence; but a tree is soon felled, and, as axes are near at hand in
every neighbourhood, may be down before the engines arrive.

"You do well to avoid being concerned in the pieces of personal abuse,
so scandalously common in our newspapers, that I am afraid to lend any
of them here till I have examined and laid aside such as would disgrace
us, and subject us among strangers to a reflection like that used by a
gentleman in a coffee-house to two quarrellers, who, after a mutually
free use of the words rogue, villain, rascal scoundrel, &c., seemed as
if they would refer their dispute to him: 'I know nothing of you or your
affairs,' said he; 'I only perceive _that you know one another_.'

"The conductor of a newspaper should, methinks, consider himself as in
some degree the guardian of his country's reputation, and refuse to
insert such writings as may hurt it. If people will print their abuses
of one another, let them do it in little pamphlets, and distribute them
where they think proper. It is absurd to trouble all the world with
them, and unjust to subscribers in distant places, to stuff their paper
with matter so unprofitable and so disagreeable. With sincere esteem and
affection, I am, my dear friend, ever yours,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Samuel Huntingdon, President of Congress._

"Passy, March 12, 1781.

SIR,

I had the honour of receiving, on the 13th of last month, your
excellency's letter of the 1st of January, together with the
instructions of November 28th and December 27th, a copy of those to
Colonel Laurens, and the letter to the king. I immediately drew up a
memorial, enforcing as strongly as I could the request contained in that
letter, and directed by the instructions, and delivered the same with
the letter, which were both well received. * * *

"I must now beg leave to say something relating to myself, a subject
with which I have not often troubled the Congress. I have passed my
seventy-fifth year, and I find that the long and severe fit of the gout
which I had the last winter has shaken me exceedingly, and I am yet far
from having recovered the bodily strength I before enjoyed. I do not
know that my mental faculties are impaired. Perhaps I shall be the last
to discover that; but I am sensible of great diminution in my activity,
a quality I think particularly necessary in your minister at this court.
I am afraid, therefore, that your affairs may some time or other suffer
by my deficiency. I find also that the business is too heavy for me, and
too confining. The constant attendance at home, which is necessary for
receiving and accepting your bills of exchange (a matter foreign to my
_ministerial functions_), to answer letters, and perform other parts of
my employment, prevents my taking the air and exercise which my annual
journeys formerly used to afford me, and which contributed much to the
preservation of my health. There are many other little personal
attentions which the infirmities of age render necessary to an old man's
comfort, even in some degree to the continuance of his existence, and
with which business often interferes. I have been engaged in public
affairs, and enjoyed public confidence in some shape or other during the
long term of fifty years, an honour sufficient to satisfy any reasonable
ambition, and I have no other left but that of repose, which I hope the
Congress will grant me by sending some person to supply my place.

"At the same time, I beg they may be assured that it is not any the
least doubt of their success in the glorious cause, nor any disgust
received in their service, that induces me to decline it, but purely and
simply the reasons above mentioned; and as I cannot at present undergo
the fatigues of a sea voyage (the last having been almost too much for
me), and would not again expose myself to the hazard of capture and
imprisonment in this time of war, I purpose to remain here at least till
the peace; perhaps it may be for the remainder of my life; and if any
knowledge or experience I have acquired here may be thought of use to my
successor, I shall freely communicate it, and assist him with any
influence I may be supposed to have or counsel that may be desired of
me."

* * * * *

"_To the Bishop of St. Asaph._[25]

[25] Jonathan Shipley took his degrees at Christ Church, and in
1743 was made prebendary of Winchester. After travelling in 1745
with the Duke of Cumberland, he was promoted in 1749 to a canonry
at Christ Church, became dean of Winchester in 1760, and 1769
bishop of St. Asaph. He was author of some elegant verses on the
death of Queen Caroline, and published besides some poems and
sermons, and died 1788. He was an ardent friend of American
independence.

"Passy, June 10, 1782.

"I received and read the letter from my dear and much respected friend
with infinite pleasure. After so long a silence, and the long
continuance of its unfortunate causes, a line from you was a prognostic
of happier times approaching, when we may converse and communicate
freely, without danger from the malevolence of men enraged by the
ill-success of their distracted projects.

"I long with you for the return of peace, on the general principles of
humanity. The hope of being able to pass a few more of my last days
happily in the sweet conversations and company I once enjoyed at
Twyford,[26] is a particular motive that adds strength to the general
wish, and quickens my industry to procure that best of blessings. After
much occasion to consider the folly and mischiefs of a state of warfare,
and the little or no advantage obtained even by those nations who have
conducted it with the most success, I have been apt to think that there
has never been, nor ever will be, any such thing as a _good_ war or a
_bad_ peace.

[26] The country residence of the bishop.

"You ask if I still relish my old studies? I relish them, but I cannot
pursue them. My time is engrossed, unhappily, with other concerns. I
requested from the Congress last year my discharge from this public
station, that I might enjoy a little leisure in the evening of a long
life of business; but it was refused me, and I have been obliged to
drudge on a little longer.

"You are happy, as your years come on, in having that dear and most
amiable family about you. Four daughters! how rich! I have but one, and
she necessarily detained from me at a thousand leagues' distance. I feel
the want of that tender care of me which might be expected from a
daughter, and would give the world for one. Your shades are all placed
in a row over my fireplace, so that I not only have you always in my
mind, but constantly before my eyes.

"The cause of liberty and America has been greatly obliged to you. I
hope you will live long to see that country flourish under its new
constitution, which I am sure will give you great pleasure. Will you
permit me to express another hope that, now your friends are in power,
they will take the first opportunity of showing the sense they ought to
have of your virtues and your merit?

"Please to make my best respects acceptable to Mrs. Shipley, and embrace
for me tenderly all our dear children. With the utmost esteem, respect,
and veneration, I am ever, my dear friend, yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Miss Alexander._

"Passy, June 27, 1782.

"I am not at all displeased that the thesis and dedication with which we
were threatened are blown over, for I dislike much all sorts of mummery.
The republic of letters has gained no reputation, whatever else it may
have gained, by the commerce of dedications; I never made one, and
never desired that one should be made to me. When I submitted to receive
this, it was from the bad habit I have long had, of doing everything
that ladies desire me to do: there is no refusing anything to Madame la
Marck nor to you.

"I have been to pay my respects to that amiable lady, not merely because
it was a compliment due to her, but because I love her: which induces me
to excuse her not letting me in; the same reason I should have for
excusing your faults, if you had any. I have not seen your papa since
the receipt of your pleasing letter, so could arrange nothing with him
respecting the carriage. During seven or eight days I shall be very
busy; after that, you shall hear from me, and the carriage shall be at
your service. How could you think of writing to me about chimneys and
fires in such weather as this! Now is the time for the frugal lady you
mention to save her wood, obtain _plus de chaleur_, and lay it up
against winter, as people do ice against summer. Frugality is an
enriching virtue, a virtue I never could acquire in myself, but I was
once lucky enough to find it in a wife, who thereby became a fortune to
me. Do you possess it? If you do, and I were twenty years younger, I
would give your father one thousand guineas for you. I know you would be
worth more to me as a _menagére_. I am covetous, and love good bargains.
Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Benjamin Vaughan._

"Passy, July 10, 1782.

"By the original law of nations, war and extirpation was the punishment
of injury. Humanizing by degrees, it admitted slavery instead of death.
A farther step was the exchange of prisoners instead of slavery.
Another, to respect more the property of private persons under conquest,
and to be content with acquired dominion. Why should not the law of
nations go on improving? Ages have intervened between its several steps;
but, as knowledge of late increases rapidly, why should not those steps
be quickened? Why should it not be agreed to as the future law of
nations, that in any war hereafter the following descriptions of men
should be undisturbed, have the protection of both sides, and be
permitted to follow their employments in surety; viz.,

"1. Cultivators of the earth, because they labour for the subsistence of
mankind.

"2. Fishermen, for the same reason.

"3. Merchants and traders in unarmed ships, who accommodate different
nations by communicating and exchanging the necessaries and conveniences
of life.

"4. Artists and mechanics, inhabiting and working in open towns.

"It is hardly necessary to add, that the hospitals of enemies should be
unmolested; they ought to be assisted.

"In short, I would have nobody fought with but those who are paid for
fighting. If obliged to take corn from the farmer, friend or enemy, I
would pay him for it; the same for the fish or goods of the others.

"This once established, that encouragement to war which arises from a
spirit of rapine would be taken away, and peace, therefore, more likely
to continue and be lasting.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Mrs. Hewson._[27]

[27] Widow of the eminent anatomist of that name, and formerly Miss
Stevenson, to whom several of Dr. Franklin's letters on
Philosophical subjects are addressed.

"Passy, January 27, 1783.

"The departure of my dearest friend,[28] which I learn from your last
letter, greatly affects me. To meet with her once more in this life was
one of the principal motives of my proposing to visit England again
before my return to America. The last year carried off my friends Dr.
Pringle and Dr. Fothergill, and Lord Kaimes and Lord Le Despencer; this
has begun to take away the rest, and strikes the hardest. Thus the ties
I had to that country, and, indeed, to the world in general, are
loosened one by one, and I shall soon have no attachment left to make me
unwilling to follow.

[28] Refers to Mrs. Hewson's mother.

"I intended writing when I sent the eleven books, but lost the time in
looking for the first. I wrote with that, and hope it came to hand. I
therein asked your counsel about my coming to England: on reflection, I
think I can, from my knowledge of your prudence, foresee what it will
be; viz., not to come too soon, lest it should seem braving and
insulting some who ought to be respected. I shall therefore omit that
journey till I am near going to America, and then just step over to take
leave of my friends, and spend a few days with you. I purpose
bringing[29] Ben with me, and perhaps may leave him under your care.

[29] Benjamin Franklin Bache, a grandson of Dr. Franklin, by his
daughter Sarah; he was the first editor of the AURORA at
Philadelphia: died of yellow fever in September, 1798.

"At length we are in peace, God be praised; and long, very long may it
continue. All wars are follies, very expensive and very mischievous
ones: when will mankind be convinced of this, and agree to settle their
differences by arbitration? Were they to do it even by the cast of a
die, it would be better than by fighting and destroying each other.

"Spring is coming on, when travelling will be delightful. Can you not,
when your children are all at school, make a little party and take a
trip hither? I have now a large house, delightfully situated, in which I
could accommodate you and two or three friends; and I am but half an
hour's drive from Paris.

"In looking forward, twenty five years seems a long period; but in
looking back, how short! Could you imagine that 'tis now full a quarter
of a century since we were first acquainted! it was in 1757. During the
greatest part of the time I lived in the same house with my dear
deceased friend your mother; of course you and I saw and conversed with
each other much and often. It is to all our honours, that in all that
time we never had among us the smallest misunderstanding. Our friendship
has been all clear sunshine, without the least cloud in its hemisphere.
Let me conclude by saying to you what I have had too frequent occasion
to say to my other remaining old friends, _the fewer we become, the more
let us love one another_.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To David Hartley._

"Passy, May 8, 1783.

"DEAR FRIEND,

"I send you enclosed the copies you desired of the papers I read to you
yesterday.[30] I should be happy if I could see, before I die, the
proposed improvement of the law of nations established. The miseries of
mankind would be diminished by it, and the happiness of millions secured
and promoted. If the practice of _privateering_ could be profitable to
any civilized nation, it might be so to us Americans, since we are so
situated on the globe as that the rich commerce of Europe with the West
Indies, consisting of manufactures, sugars, &c., is obliged to pass
before our doors, which enables us to make short and cheap cruises,
while our own commerce is in such bulky, low-priced articles, as that
ten of our ships taken by you are not equal in value to one of yours,
and you must come far from home at a great expense to look for them. I
hope, therefore, that this proposition, if made by us, will appear in
its true light, as having humanity only for its motive. I do not wish to
see a new Barbary rising in America, and our long-extended coast
occupied by piratical states. I fear lest our privateering success in
the last two wars should already have given our people too strong a
relish for that most mischievous kind of gaming, mixed blood; and if a
stop is not now put to the practice, mankind may hereafter be more
plagued with American corsairs than they have been and are with the
Turkish. Try, my friend, what you can do in procuring for your nation
the glory of being, though the greatest naval power, the first who
voluntarily relinquished the advantage that power seems to give them, of
plundering others, and thereby impeding the mutual communications among
men of the gifts of God, and rendering miserable multitudes of merchants
and their families, artisans, and cultivators of the earth, the most
peaceable and innocent part of the human species.

[30] See the Proposition about Privateering, annexed to letter to
R. Oswald. January 14, 1783.

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Dr. Percival._

"Passy, July 17, 1784.

"DEAR SIR,

"I received yesterday, by Mr. White, your kind letter of May 11th, with
the most agreeable present of your new book. I read it all before I
slept, which is a proof of the good effects your happy manner has of
drawing your reader on, by mixing little anecdotes and historical facts
with your instructions. Be pleased to accept my grateful acknowledgments
for the pleasure it has afforded me.

"It is astonishing that the murderous practice of duelling, which you so
justly condemn, should continue so long in vogue. Formerly, when duels
were used to determine lawsuits, from an opinion that Providence would
in every instance favour truth and right with victory, they were
excusable. At present they decide nothing. A man says something which
another tells him is a lie. They fight; but, whichever is killed, the
point in dispute remains unsettled. * * * How can such miserable sinners
as we are entertain so much pride as to conceit that every offence
against our imagined honour merits _death_? These petty princes, in
their own opinion, would call that sovereign a tyrant who would put one
of them to death for a little uncivil language, though pointed at his
sacred person: yet every one of them makes himself judge in his own
cause, condemns the offender without a jury, and undertakes himself to
be the executioner.

"With sincere and great esteem, I have the honour to be, sir, your most
obedient and humble servant,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Sir Joseph Banks._

"Passy, July 27, 1783.

"DEAR SIR,

"I received your very kind letter by Dr. Blagden, and esteem myself much
honoured by your friendly remembrance. I have been too much and too
closely engaged in public affairs since his being here to enjoy all the
benefit of his conversation you were so good as to intend me. I hope
soon to have more leisure, and to spend a part of it in those studies
that are much more agreeable to me than political operations.

"I join with you most cordially in rejoicing at the return of peace. I
hope it will be lasting, and that mankind will at length, as they call
themselves reasonable creatures, have reason and sense enough to settle
their differences without cutting throats: for, in my opinion, _there
never was a good war nor a bad peace_. What vast additions to the
conveniences and comforts of living might mankind have acquired, if the
money spent in wars had been employed in works of public utility. What
an extension of agriculture even to the tops of our mountains; what
rivers rendered navigable, or joined by canals; what bridges, aqueducts,
new roads, and other public works, edifices and improvements, rendering
England a complete paradise, might not have been obtained, by spending
those millions in doing good which in the last war have been spent in
doing mischief; in bringing misery into thousands of families, and
destroying the lives of so many thousands of working people, who might
have performed the useful labour!

"I am pleased with the late astronomical discoveries made by our
society. Furnished as all Europe now is with academies of science, with
nice instruments and the spirit of experiment, the progress of human
knowledge will be rapid, and discoveries made of which we have at
present no conception. I begin to be almost sorry I was born so soon,
since I cannot have the happiness of knowing what will be known one
hundred years hence.

"I wish continued success to the labours of the Royal Society, and that
you may long adorn their chair; being, with the highest esteem, dear
sir, &c.

"B. FRANKLIN."

"Dr. Blagden will acquaint you with the experiment of a vast globe sent
up into the air, much talked of here, and which, if prosecuted, may
furnish means of new knowledge."

* * * * *

"_Robert Morris, Esq._

(Superintendent of Finances, United States.)

"Passy, Dec. 25, 1783.

"The remissness of our people in paying taxes is highly blameable, the
unwillingness to pay them is still more so. I see in some resolutions of
town meetings a remonstrance against giving Congress a power to take, as
they call it, _the people's money_ out of their pockets, though only to
pay the interest and principal of debts duly contracted. They seem to
mistake the point. Money justly due from the people is their creditor's
money, and no longer the money of the people, who, if they withhold it,
should be compelled to pay by some law. All property, indeed, except the
savages' temporary cabin, his bow, his matchuat, and other little
acquisitions absolutely necessary for his subsistence, seems to me to be
the creature of public convention. Hence the public has the right of
regulating descents, and all other conveyances of property, and even of
limiting the quantity and the uses of it. All the property that is
necessary to a man for the conservation of the individual and the
propagation of the species, is his natural right, which none can justly
deprive him of; but all property superfluous to such purposes is the
property of the public, who, by their laws, have created it, and who may
therefore, by other laws, dispose of it whenever the welfare of the
public shall desire such disposition. He that does not like civil
society on these terms, let him retire and live among savages. He can
have no right to the benefits of society who will not pay his club
towards the support of it.

"The Marquis de Lafayette, who loves to be employed in our affairs, and
is often very useful, has lately had several conversations with the
ministers and persons concerned in forming new regulations respecting
the commerce between our two countries, which are not yet concluded. I
thought it therefore, well to communicate to him a copy of your letter
which contains so many sensible and just observations on that subject.
He will make a proper use of them, and perhaps they may have more
weight, as appearing to come from a Frenchman, than they would have if
it were known that they were the observations of an American. I
perfectly agree with all the sentiments you have expressed on this
occasion.

"I am sorry, for the public's sake, that you are about to quit your
office, but on personal considerations I shall congratulate you. For I
cannot conceive of a more happy man than he who, having been long loaded
with public cares, finds himself relieved from them, and enjoying
private repose in the bosom of his friends and family.

"With sincere regard and attachment, I am ever, dear sir, yours, &c.,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To Dr. Mather, Boston._

"Passy, May 12, 1784.

"REV. SIR,

"I received your kind letter with your excellent advice to the people of
the United States, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be
duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lightly passed over by
many readers, yet if they make a deep impression on one active mind in a
hundred, the effects may be considerable. Permit me to mention one
little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite
uninteresting to you. When I was a boy I met with a book entitled
_Essays to do Good_, which I think was written by your father. It had
been so little regarded by a former possessor, that several leaves of it
were torn out: but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking as to
have an influence on my conduct through life; for I have always set a
greater value on the character of a _doer of good_, than on any other
kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful
citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book. You mention
your being in your 78th year: I am in my 79th; we are grown old
together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston, but I
remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both
in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last time I saw your
father was in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after my first
trip to Pennsylvania. He received me in his library, and on my taking
leave showed me a shorter way out of the house through a narrow passage,
which crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I withdrew,
he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he
said hastily, _Stoop, stoop!_ I did not understand him till I felt my
head hit against the beam. He was a man that never missed any occasion
of giving instruction, and upon this he said to me, _You are young, and
have the world before you_; STOOP _as you go through it, and you will
miss many hard thumps_. This advice, thus beat into my head, has
frequently been of use to me; and I often think of it when I see pride
mortified, and misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their
heads too high.

"I long much to see again my native place, and to lay my bones there. I
left it in 1723; I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763. In 1773 I
was in England; in 1775 I had a sight of it, but could not enter, it
being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to have been there in 1783,
but could not obtain my dismission from this employment here; and now I
fear I shall never have that happiness. My best wishes, however, attend
my dear country. _Esto perpetua_. It is now blessed with an excellent
constitution; may it last for ever! * * *

"With great and sincere esteem, I have the honour to be, &c.,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To William Strahan, M. P._

"Passy, August 19, 1784.

"DEAR FRIEND,

"I received your kind letter of April 17. You will have the goodness to
place my delay in answering to the account of indisposition and
business, and excuse it. I have now that letter before me; and my
grandson, whom you may formerly remember a little scholar at Mr.
Elphinston's, purposing to set out in a day or two on a visit to his
father in London, I sit down to scribble a little to you, first
recommending him as a worthy young man to your civilities and counsels.

"You press me much to come to England. I am not without strong
inducements to do so; the fund of knowledge you promise to communicate
to me is, in addition to them, no small one. At present it is
impracticable. But when my grandson returns, come with him. We will talk
the matter over, and perhaps you may take me back with you. I have a bed
at your service, and will try to make your residence, while you can stay
with us, as agreeable to you, if possible, as I am sure it will be to
me.

"You do not 'approve the annihilation of profitable places; for you do
not see why a statesman who does his business well should not be paid
for his labour as well as any other workman.' Agreed. But why more than
any other workman? The less the salary the greater the honour. In so
great a nation there are many rich enough to afford giving their time to
the public; and there are, I make no doubt, many wise and able men who
would take as much pleasure in governing for nothing, as they do in
playing of chess for nothing. It would be one of the noblest amusements.
That this opinion is not chimerical, the country I now live in affords a
proof; its whole civil and criminal law administration being done for
nothing, or, in some sense, for less than nothing, since the members of
its judiciary parliaments buy their places, and do not make more than
three per cent. for their money by their fees and emoluments, while the
legal interest is five; so that, in fact, they give two per cent. to be
allowed to govern, and all their time and trouble into the bargain. Thus
_profit_, one motive for desiring place, being abolished, there remains
only _ambition_; and that being in some degree balanced by _loss_, you
may easily conceive that there will not be very violent factions and
contentions for such places; nor much of the mischief to the country
that attends your factions, which have often occasioned wars, and
overloaded you with debts impayable.

"I allow you all the force of your joke upon the vagrancy of our
Congress. They have a right to sit _where_ they please, of which,
perhaps, they have made too much use by shifting too often. But they
have two other rights; those of sitting _when_ they please and as _long_
as they please, in which, methinks, they have the advantage of your
Parliament; for they cannot be dissolved by the breath of a minister, or
sent packing, as you were the other day, when it was your earnest desire
to have remained longer together.

"You 'fairly acknowledge that the late war terminated quite contrary to
your expectation.' Your expectation was ill-founded; for you would not
believe your old friend, who told you repeatedly, that by those measures
England would lose her colonies, as Epictetus warned in vain his master
that he would break his leg. You believed rather the tales you heard of
our poltroonery and impotence of body and mind. Do you not remember the
story you told me of the Scotch sergeant who met with a party of forty
American soldiers, and, though alone, disarmed them all and brought them
in prisoners? a story almost as improbable as that of an Irishman, who
pretended to have alone taken and brought in five of the enemy by
_surrounding_ them. And yet, my friend, sensible and judicious as you
are, but partaking of the general infatuation, you seemed to believe it.
The word _general_ puts me in mind of a general, your General Clarke,
who had the folly to say in my hearing, at Sir John Pringle's, that with
a thousand British grenadiers he would undertake to go from one end of
America to the other, and geld all the males, partly by force and partly
by a little coaxing. It is plain he took us for a species of animals
very little superior to brutes. The Parliament, too, believed the
stories of another foolish general, I forget his name, that the Yankees
never _felt bold_. Yankee was understood to be a sort of Yahoo, and the
Parliament did not think the petitions of such creatures were fit to be
received and read in so wise an assembly. What was the consequence of
this monstrous pride and insolence? You first sent small armies to
subdue us, believing them more than sufficient, but soon found
yourselves obliged to send greater; these, whenever they ventured to
penetrate our country beyond the protection of their ships, were ether
repulsed and obliged to scamper out, or were surrounded, beaten, and
taken prisoners. An American planter, who had never seen Europe, was
chosen by us to command our troops, and continued during the whole war.
This man sent home to you, one after another, five of your best generals
baffled, their heads bare of laurels, disgraced even in the opinion of
their employers. Your contempt of our understandings, in comparison with
your own, appeared to be much better founded than that of our courage,
if we may judge by this circumstance, that in whatever court of Europe a
Yankee negotiator appeared, the wise British minister was routed, put in
a passion, picked a quarrel with your friends, and was sent home with a
flea in his ear. But, after all, my dear friend, do not imagine that I
am vain enough to ascribe our success to any superiority in any of those
points. I am too well acquainted with all the springs and levers of our
machine not to see that our human means were unequal to our undertaking,
and that, if it had not been for the justice of our cause, and the
consequent interposition of Providence, in which we had faith, we must
have been ruined. If I had ever before been an Atheist, I should now
have been convinced of the being and government of a Deity! It is he
that abases the proud and favours the humble. May we never forget his
goodness to us, and may our future conduct manifest our gratitude!

"But let us leave these serious reflections and converse with our usual
pleasantry. I remember your observing once to me, as we sat together in
the House of Commons, that no two journeymen printers within your
knowledge had met with such success in the world as ourselves. You were
then at the head of your profession, and soon afterward became member of
Parliament. I was an agent for a few provinces, and now act for them
all. But we have risen by different modes. I, as a republican printer,
always liked a form well _planed down_; being averse to those
_overbearing_ letters that hold their heads so _high_ as to hinder their
neighbours from appearing. You, as a monarchist, chose to work upon
_crown_ paper, and found it profitable; while I worked upon _pro patria_
(often, indeed, called _foolscap_) with no less advantage. Both our
_heaps hold out_ very well, and we seem likely to make a pretty good
_day's work_ of it. With regard to public affairs (to continue in the
same style), it seems to me that your _compositors_ in your _chapel_ do
not _cast off their copy well_, nor perfectly understand _imposing_:
their _forms_, too, are continually pestered by the _outs_ and _doubles_
that are not easy to be _corrected_. And I think they were wrong in
laying aside some _faces_, and particularly certain _headpieces_, that
would have been both useful and ornamental. But, courage! The business
may still flourish with good management, and the master become as rich
as any of the company. * *

"I am ever, my dear friend, yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_George Wheatley._

"Passy, May 23, 1785.

"DEAR OLD FRIEND,

"I sent you a few lines the other day with the medallion, when I should
have written more, but was prevented by the coming in of a _bavard_, who
worried me till evening. I bore with him, and now you are to bear with
me: for I shall probably _bavarder_ in answering your letter.

"I am not acquainted with the saying of Alphonsus, which you allude to
as a sanctification of your rigidity in refusing to allow me the plea of
old age as an excuse for my want of exactness in correspondence. What
was that saying? You do not, it seems, feel any occasion for such an
excuse, though you are, as you say, rising 75. But I am rising (perhaps
more properly falling) 80, and I leave the excuse with you till you
arrive at that age; perhaps you may then be more sensible of its
validity, and see fit to use it for yourself.

"I must agree with you that the gout is bad, and that the stone is
worse. I am happy in not having them both together, and I join in your
prayer that you may live till you die without either. But I doubt the
author of the epitaph you send me was a little mistaken, when he,
speaking of the world, says that

"'He ne'er cared a pin
What they said or may say of the mortal within.'

"It is so natural to wish to be well spoken of, whether alive or dead,
that I imagine he could not be quite exempt from that desire; and that
at least he wished to be thought a wit, or he would not have given
himself the trouble of writing so good an epitaph to leave behind him.
Was it not as worthy of his care that the world should say he was an
honest and a good man? I like better the concluding sentiment in the old
song, called the _Old Man's Wish_, wherein, after wishing for a warm
house in a country town, an easy horse, some good authors, ingenious and
cheerful companions, a pudding on Sundays, with stout ale and a bottle
of Burgundy, &c., &c., in separate stanzas, each ending with this
burden,

"'May I govern my passons with absolute sway,
Grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.'

He adds,

"'With a courage undaunted may I face my last day,
And when I am gone may the better sort say,
In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow.
He's gone, and has not left behind him his fellow.
For he governed his passions,' &c.

"But what signifies our wishing? Things happen, after all, as they will
happen. I have sung that _wishing song_ a thousand times when I was
young, and now find at fourscore that the three contraries have
befallen me, being subject to the gout and the stone, and not being yet
master of all my passions. Like the proud girl in my country, who wished
and resolved not to marry a parson, nor a Presbyterian, nor an Irishman,
and at last found herself married to an Irish Presbyterian parson. You
see I have some reason to wish that, in a future state, I may not only
be _as well as I was_, but a little better. And I hope it: for I too,
with your poet, _trust in God_. And when I observe that there is great
frugality as well as wisdom in his works, since he has been evidently
sparing both of labour and materials; for, by the various wonderful
inventions of propagation, he has provided for the continual peopling
his world with plants and animals, without being at the trouble of
repeated new creations; and by the natural reduction of compound
substances to their original elements, capable of being employed in new
compositions, he has prevented the necessity of creating new matter; for
that the earth, water, air, and perhaps fire, which, being compounded
from wood, do, when the wood is dissolved, return, and again become air,
earth, fire, and water: I say, that when I see nothing annihilated, and
not even a drop of water wasted, I cannot suspect the annihilation of
souls, or believe that he will suffer the daily waste of millions of
minds ready made that now exist, and put himself to the continual
trouble of making new ones. Thus, finding myself to exist in the world,
I believe I shall, in some shape or other, always exist: and with all
the inconveniences human life is liable to, I shall not object to a new
edition of mine; hoping, however, that the errata of the last may be
corrected. * * *

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_David Hartley._

"Passy, July 5, 1785.

"I cannot quit the coasts of Europe without taking leave of my ever dear
friend Mr. Hartley. We were long fellow-labourers in the best of all
works, the work of peace. I leave you still in the field, but, having
finished my day's task, I am going home _to go to bed_. Wish me a good
night's rest, as I do you a pleasant evening. Adieu! and believe me ever
yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN,
"In his 80th year"

* * * * *

"_To the Bishop of St. Asaph._

"Philadelphia, Feb. 24, 1786.

"DEAR FRIEND,

"I received lately your kind letter of November 27. My reception here
was, as you have heard, very honourable indeed; but I was betrayed by
it, and by some remains of ambition, from which I had imagined myself
free, to accept of the chair of government for the State of
Pennsylvania, when the proper thing for me was repose and a private
life. I hope, however, to be able to bear the fatigue for one year, and
then retire.

"I have much regretted our having so little opportunity for conversation
when we last met.[31] You could have given me informations and counsels
that I wanted, but we were scarce a minute together without being broken
in upon. I am to thank you, however, for the pleasure I had, after our
parting, in reading the new book[32] you gave me, which I think
generally well written and likely to do good: though the reading time of
most people is of late so taken up with newspapers and little
periodical pamphlets, that few nowadays venture to attempt reading a
quarto volume. I have admired to see that in the last century a folio,
_Burton on Melancholy_, went through six editions in about forty years.
We have, I believe, more readers now, but not of such large books.

[31] At Southampton, previous to Dr. Franklin's embarking for the
United States.

[32] Paley's Moral Philosophy.

"You seem desirous of knowing what progress we make here in improving
our governments. We are, I think, in the right road of improvement, for
we are making experiments. I do not oppose all that seem wrong, for the
multitude are more effectually set right by experience, than kept from
going wrong by reasoning with them. And I think we are daily more and
more enlightened; so that I have no doubt of our obtaining, in a few
years, as much public felicity as good government is capable of
affording. * * * *

"As to my domestic circumstances, of which you kindly desire to hear
something, they are at present as happy as I could wish them. I am
surrounded by my offspring, a dutiful and affectionate daughter in my
house, with six grandchildren, the eldest of which you have seen, who is
now at college in the next street, finishing the learned part of his
education; the others promising both for parts and good dispositions.
What their conduct may be when they grow up and enter the important
scenes of life, I shall not live to _see_, and I cannot _foresee_. I
therefore enjoy among them the present hour, and leave the future to
Providence.

"He that raises a large family does, indeed, while he lives to observe
them, _stand_, as Watts says, _a broader mark for sorrow_; but then he
stands a broader mark for pleasure too. When we launch our little fleet
of barks into the ocean, bound to different ports, we hope for each a
prosperous voyage; but contrary winds, hidden shoals, storms, and
enemies, come in for a share in the disposition of events; and though
these occasion a mixture of disappointment, yet, considering the risk
where we can make no ensurance, we should think ourselves happy if some
return with success. My son's son (Temple Franklin), whom you have also
seen, having had a fine farm of 600 acres conveyed to him by his father
when we were at Southampton, has dropped for the present his views of
acting in the political line, and applies himself ardently to the study
and practice of agriculture. This is much more agreeable to me, who
esteem it the most useful, the most independent, and, therefore, the
noblest of employments. His lands are on navigable water, communicating
with the Delaware, and but about 16 miles from this city. He has
associated to himself a very skilful English farmer, lately arrived
here, who is to instruct him in the business, and partakes for a term of
the profits; so that there is a great apparent probability of their
success. You will kindly expect a word or two about myself. My health
and spirits continue, thanks to God, as when you saw me. The only
complaint I then had does not grow worse, and is tolerable. I still have
enjoyment in the company of my friends; and, being easy in my
circumstances, have many reasons to like living. But the course of
nature must soon put a period to my present mode of existence. This I
shall submit to with less regret, as having seen, during a long life, a
good deal of this world, I feel a growing curiosity to be acquainted
with some other; and can cheerfully, with filial confidence, resign my
spirit to the conduct of that great and good Parent of mankind who
created it, and who has so graciously protected and prospered me from my
birth to the present hour. Wherever I am, I always hope to retain the
pleasing remembrance of your friendship; being, with sincere and great
esteem, my dear friend, yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN.

"We all join in respects to Mrs. Shipley."

* * * * *

"_Mrs. Hewson, London._

"Philadelphia, May 6, 1786.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

"A long winter has passed, and I have not had the pleasure of a line
from you, acquainting me with your and your childrens' welfare, since I
left England. I suppose you have been in Yorkshire, out of the way and
knowledge of opportunities, for I will not think you have forgotten me.
To make me some amends, I received a few days past a large packet from
Mr. Williams, dated September, 1776, near ten years since, containing
three letters from you, one of December 12, 1775. This packet had been
received by Mr. Bache after my departure for France, lay dormant among
his papers during all my absence, and has just now broke out upon me
_like words_ that had been, as somebody says, _congealed in Northern
air_. Therein I find all the pleasing little family history of your
children; how William had began to spell, overcoming by strength of
memory all the difficulty occasioned by the common wretched alphabet,
while you were convinced of the utility of our new one. How Tom,
genius-like, struck out new paths, and, relinquishing the old names of
the letters, called U _bell_ and P _bottle_. How Eliza began to grow
jolly, that is, fat and handsome, resembling Aunt Rooke, whom I used to
call _my lovely_. Together with all the _then_ news of Lady Blunt's
having produced at length a boy; of Dolly's being well, and of poor good
Catharine's decease. Of your affairs with Muir and Atkinson, and of
their contract for feeding the fish in the Channel. Of the Vinys, and
their jaunt to Cambridge in the long carriages. Of Dolly's journey to
Wales with Mr. Scot. Of the Wilkeses, the Pearces, Elphinston, &c., &c.
Concluding with a kind promise that, as soon as the ministry and
Congress agreed to make peace, I should have you with me in America.
That peace has been some time made, but, alas! the promise is not yet
fulfilled. And why is it not fulfilled?

"I have found my family here in health, good circumstances, and well
respected by their fellow-citizens. The companions of my youth are
indeed almost all departed, but I find an agreeable society among their
children and grandchildren. I have public business enough to preserve me
from _ennui_, and private amusement besides, in conversation, books, and
my garden. Considering our well-furnished plentiful market as the best
of gardens, I am turning mine, in the midst of which my house stands,
into grassplats and gravel-walks, with trees and flowering shrubs. * * *

"Temple has turned his thoughts to agriculture, which he pursues
ardently, being in possession of a fine farm that his father lately
conveyed to him. Ben is finishing his studies at college, and continues
to behave as well as when you knew him, so that I still think he will
make you a good son. His younger brothers and sisters are also all
promising, appearing to have good tempers and dispositions, as well as
good constitutions. As to myself, I think my general health and spirits
rather better than when you saw me, and the particular malady I then
complained of continues tolerable. With sincere and very great esteem, I
am ever, my dear friend, yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To M. Veillard._

"Philadelphia, April 15, 1787

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

"I am quite of your opinion, that our independence is not quite complete
till we have discharged our public debt. This state is not behindhand in
its proportion, and those who are in arrear are actually employed in
contriving means to discharge their respective balances; but they are
not all equally diligent in the business, nor equally successful; the
whole will, however, be paid, I am persuaded, in a few years.

"The English have not yet delivered up the posts on our frontier
agreeable to treaty; the pretence is, that our merchants here have not
paid their debts. I was a little provoked when I first heard this, and I
wrote some remarks upon it, which I send you: they have been written
near a year, but I have not yet published them, being unwilling to
encourage any of our people who may be able to pay in their neglect of
that duty. The paper is therefore only for your amusement, and that of
our excellent friend the Duke de la Rochefoucauld.

"As to my malady, concerning which you so kindly inquire, I have never
had the least doubt of its being the stone, and I am sensible that it
has increased; but, on the whole, it does not give me more pain than
when at Passy. People who live long, who will drink of the cup of life
to the very bottom, must expect to meet with some of the usual dregs;
and when I reflect on the number of terrible maladies human nature is
subject to, I think myself favoured in having to my share only the stone
and gout.

"You were right in conjecturing that I wrote the remarks on the
'_thoughts concerning executive justice_.' I have no copy of these
remarks at hand, and forget how the saying was introduced, that it is
better a thousand guilty persons should escape than one innocent suffer.
Your criticisms thereon appear to be just, and I imagine you may have
misapprehended my intention in mentioning it. I always thought with you,
that the prejudice in Europe, which supposes a family dishonoured by the
punishment of one of its members, was very absurd, it being, on the
contrary, my opinion, that a rogue hanged out of a family does it more
honour than ten that live in it.

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Mr. Jordain._

"Philadelphia, May 18, 1787.

"DEAR SIR,

"I received your very kind letter of February 27, together with the cask
of porter you have been so good as to send me. We have here at present
what the French call _une assemblée des notables_, a convention composed
of some of the principal people from the several states of our
confederation. They did me the honour of dining with me last Wednesday,
when the cask was broached, and its contents met with the most cordial
reception and universal approbation. In short, the company agreed
unanimously that it was the best porter they had ever tasted. Accept my
thanks, a poor return, but all I can make at present.

"Your letter reminds me of many happy days we have passed together, and
the dear friends with whom we passed them; some of whom, alas! have left
us, and we must regret their loss, although our Hawkesworth[33] is
become an adventurer in more happy regions; and our Stanley[34] gone,
'where only his own _harmony_ can be exceeded.' You give me joy in
telling me that you are 'on the pinnacle of _content_.' Without it no
situation can be happy; with it, any. One means of becoming content with
one's situation is the comparing it with a worse Thus, when I consider
how many terrible diseases the human body is liable to, I comfort myself
that only three incurable ones have fallen to my share, the gout, the
stone, and old age; and that these have not yet deprived me of my
natural cheerfulness, my delight in books, and enjoyment of social
conversation.

[33] John Hawkesworth, LL.D., author of the Adventurer, and
compiler of the account of the Discoveries made in the South Seas
by Captain Cook.

[34] John Stanley, an eminent musician and composer, though he
became blind at the age of two years.

"I am glad to hear that Mr. Fitzmaurice is married, and has an amiable
lady and children. It is a better plan than that he once proposed, of
getting Mrs. Wright to make him a waxwork wife to sit at the head of his
table. For, after all, wedlock is the natural state of man. A bachelor
is not a complete human being. He is like the odd half of a pair of
scissors, which has not yet found its fellow, and, therefore, is not
even half so useful as they might be together.

"I hardly know which to admire most, the wonderful discoveries made by
Herschel, or the indefatigable ingenuity by which he has been enabled to
make them. Let us hope, my friend, that, when free from these bodily
embarrassments, we may roam together through some of the systems he has
explored, conducted by some of our old companions already acquainted
with them. Hawkesworth will enliven our progress with his cheerful,
sensible converse, and Stanley accompany the music of the spheres.

"Mr. Watraaugh tells me, for I immediately inquired after her, that your
daughter is alive and well. I remember her a most promising and
beautiful child, and therefore do not wonder that she is grown, as he
says, a fine woman.

"God bless her and you, my dear friend, and everything that pertains to
you, is the sincere prayer of yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN,
"In his 82d year."

* * * * *

"_To Miss Hubbard._

"I condole with you. We have lost a most dear and valuable relation. But
it is the will of God and nature that these mortal bodies be laid aside,
when the soul is to enter into real life. This is rather an embryo
state, a preparation for living. A man is not completely born until he
be 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 us while they can afford us pleasure, to
assist us in acquiring 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 encumbrance, and answer none of the intentions for which they
were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by
which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourselves, in some
cases, prudently choose a partial death. 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 who quits the
whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibilities of pains and
diseases it was liable to, or capable of making him suffer.

"Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleasure which is
to last for ever. His chair was ready first, 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 know where to find
him?

"Adieu,
B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To George Wheatley._

"Philadelphia, May 18, 1787.

"I received duly my good old friend's letter of the 19th of February. I
thank you much for your notes on banks; they are just and solid, as far
as I can judge of them. Our bank here has met with great opposition,
partly from envy, and partly from those who wish an emission of more
paper money, which they think the bank influence prevents. But it has
stood all attacks, and went on well, notwithstanding the Assembly
repealed its charter. A new Assembly has restored it, and the management
is so prudent that I have no doubt of its continuing to go on well: the
dividend has never been less than six per cent., nor will that be
augmented for some time, as the surplus profit is reserved to face
accidents. The dividend of eleven per cent., which was once made, was
from a circumstance scarce unavoidable. A new company was proposed, and
prevented only by admitting a number of new partners. As many of the
first set were averse to this and chose to withdraw, it was necessary to
settle their accounts; so all were adjusted, the profits shared that had
been accumulated, and the new and old proprietors jointly began on a new
and equal footing. Their notes are always instantly paid on demand, and
pass on all occasions as readily as silver, because they will produce
silver.

"Your medallion is in good company; it is placed with those of Lord
Chatham, Lord Camden. Marquis of Rockingham, Sir George Saville, and
some others who honoured me with a show of friendly regard when in
England. I believe I have thanked you for it, but I thank you again.

"I believe with you, that if our plenipo. is desirous of concluding a
treaty of commerce, he may need patience. If I were in his place and not
otherwise instructed, I should be apt to say 'take your own time,
gentlemen.' If the treaty cannot be made as much to your advantage as
ours, don't make it. I am sure the want of it is not more to our
disadvantage than to yours. Let the merchants on both sides treat with
one another. _Laissez les faire._

"I have never considered attentively the Congress's scheme for coining,
and I have it not now at hand, so that at present I can say nothing to
it. The chief uses of coining seem to be the ascertaining the fineness
of the metals, and saving the time that would otherwise be spent in
weighing to ascertain the quantity. But the convenience of fixed values
to pieces is so great as to force the currency of some whose stamp is
worn off, that should have assured their fineness, and which are
evidently not of half their due weight; the case at present with the
sixpences in England, which, one with another, do not weigh threepence.

"You are now 78, and I am 82; you tread fast upon my heels; but, though
you have more strength and spirit, you cannot come up with me until I
stop, which must now be soon; for I am grown so old as to have buried
most of the friends of my youth; and I now often hear persons whom I
knew when children, called _old_ Mr. Such-a-one, to distinguish them
from their sons, now men grown and in business; so that, by living
twelve years beyond David's period, I seem to have intruded myself into
the company of posterity when I ought to have been abed and asleep. Yet,
had I gone at seventy, it would have cut off twelve of the most active
years of my life, employed, too, in matters of the greatest importance;
but whether I have been doing good or mischief is for time to discover.
I only know that I intended well, and I hope all will end well.

"Be so good as to present my affectionate respects to Dr. Riley. I am
under great obligations to him, and shall write to him shortly. It will
be a pleasure to him to know that my malady does not grow sensibly
worse, and that is a great point; for it has always been so tolerable as
not to prevent my enjoying the pleasures of society, and being cheerful
in conversation; I owe this in a great measure to his good counsels.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_B. Vaughan._

"October 24, 1788.

"Having now finished my term in the presidentship, and resolving to
engage no more in public affairs, I hope to be a better correspondent
for the little time I have to live. I am recovering from a
long-continued gout, and am diligently employed in writing the History
of my Life, to the doing of which the persuasions contained in your
letter of January 31, 1783, have not a little contributed. I am now in
the year 1756, just before I was sent to England. To shorten the work,
as well as for other reasons, I omit all facts and transactions that may
not have a tendency to benefit the young reader, by showing him from my
example, and my success in emerging from poverty, and acquiring some
degree of wealth, power, and reputation, the advantages of certain modes
of conduct which I observed, and of avoiding the errors which were
prejudicial to me. If a writer can judge properly of his own work, I
fancy, on reading over what is already done, that the book may be found
entertaining and useful, more so than I expected when I began it. If my
present state of health continues, I hope to finish it this winter: when
done, you shall have a manuscript copy of it, that I may obtain from
your judgment and friendship such remarks as may contribute to its
improvement.

"The violence of our party debates about the new constitution seems
much abated, indeed almost extinct, and we are getting fast into good
order. I kept out of those disputes pretty well, having wrote only one
piece, which I send you enclosed.

"I regret the immense quantity of misery brought upon mankind by this
Turkish war; and I am afraid the King of Sweden may burn his fingers by
attacking Russia. When will princes learn arithmetic enough to
calculate, if they want pieces of one another's territory, how much
cheaper it would be to buy them than to make war for them, even though
they were to give a hundred years' purchase; but if glory cannot be
valued, and, therefore, the wars for it cannot be subject to
arithmetical calculation, so as to show their advantages or
disadvantages, at least wars for trade, which have gain for their
object, may be proper subjects for such computation; and a trading
nation, as well as a single trader, ought to calculate the probabilities
of profit and loss before engaging in any considerable adventure. This,
however, nations seldom do, and we have had frequent instances of their
spending more money in wars for acquiring or securing branches of
commerce, than a hundred years' profit, or the full enjoyment of them
can compensate. * *

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_To the President of Congress._

"Philadelphia, Nov. 29, 1788.

"SIR,

"When I had the honour of being the minister of the United States at the
court of France, Mr. Barclay arriving there, brought me the following
resolution of Congress:

"'Resolved, That a commissioner be appointed by Congress with full power
and authority to liquidate and _finally to settle_ the accounts of all
the servants of the United States who have been intrusted with the
expenditure of public money in Europe, and to commence and prosecute
such suits, causes, and actions as may be necessary for that purpose, or
for the recovery of any property of the said United States in the hands
of any person or persons whatsoever.

"'That the said commissioner be authorized to appoint one or more
clerks, with such allowance as he may think reasonable.

"'That the said commissioner and clerks respectively take an oath,
before some person duly authorized to administer an oath, faithfully to
execute the trust reposed in them respectively.

"'Congress proceeded to the election of a commissioner, and ballots
being taken, Mr. T. Barclay was elected.'

"In pursuance of this resolution, and as soon as Mr. Barclay was at
leisure from more pressing business, I rendered to him all my accounts,
which he examined and stated methodically. By his statements he found a
balance due to me on the 4th May, 1785, of 7533 livres, 19 sols, 3
deniers, which I accordingly received of the Congress Bank; the
difference between my statement and his being only seven sols, which by
mistake I had overcharged, about threepence halfpenny sterling.

"At my request, however, the accounts were left open for the
consideration of Congress, and not finally settled, there being some
articles on which I desired their judgment, and having some equitable
demands, as I thought them, for extra services, which he had not
conceived himself empowered to allow, and therefore I did not put them
in my account. He transmitted the accounts to Congress, and had advice
of their being received. On my arrival at Philadelphia, one of the first
things I did was to despatch my grandson, W. T. Franklin, to New-York,
to obtain a final settlement of those accounts, he having long acted as
my secretary, and, being well acquainted with the transactions, was able
to give an explanation of the articles that might seem to require
explaining, if any such there were. He returned without effecting the
settlement, being told that it would not be made till the arrival of
some documents expected from France. What those documents were I have
not been informed, nor can I readily conceive, as all the vouchers
existing there had been examined by Mr. Barclay. And I having been
immediately after my arrival engaged in public business of this state, I
waited in expectation of hearing from Congress, in case any part of my
accounts had been objected to.

"It is now more than three years that those accounts have been before
that honourable body, and to this day no notice of any such objection
has been communicated to me. But reports have for some time past been
circulated here, and propagated in newspapers, that I am greatly
indebted to the United States for large sums that had been put into my
hands, and that I avoid a settlement.

"This, together with the little time one of my age may expect to live,
makes it necessary for me to request earnestly, which I hereby do, that
the Congress would be pleased, without farther delay, to examine those
accounts, and if they find therein any article or articles which they do
not understand or approve, that they would cause me to be acquainted
with the same, that I may have an opportunity of offering such
explanations or reasons in support of them as may be in my power, and
then that the account may be finally closed.

"I hope the Congress will soon be able to attend to this business for
the satisfaction of the public, as well as in condescension to my
request. In the mean time, if there be no impropriety in it, I would
desire that this letter, together with another on the same subject, the
copy of which is hereto annexed, be put upon their minutes.

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Mrs. Green._

"Philadelphia, March 2, 1789.

"DEAR FRIEND,

"Having now done with public affairs, which have hitherto taken up so
much of my time, I shall endeavour to enjoy, during the small remainder
of life that is left to me, some of the pleasures of conversing with my
old friends by writing, since their distance prevents my hope of seeing
them again.

"I received one of the bags of sweet corn you was so good as to send me
a long time since, but the other never came to hand; even the letter
mentioning it, though dated December 10, 1787, has been above a year on
its way, for I received it but about two weeks since from Baltimore, in
Maryland. The corn I did receive was excellent, and gave me great
pleasure. Accept my hearty thanks.

"I am, as you suppose in the above-mentioned old letter, much pleased to
hear that my young friend Ray is 'smart in the farming way,' and makes
such substantial fences. I think agriculture the most honourable of all
employments, being the most independent. The farmer has no need of
popular favour, nor the favour of the great; the success of his crops
depending only on the blessing of God upon his honest industry. I
congratulate your good spouse, that he as well as myself is now free
from public cares, and that he can bend his whole attention to his
farming, which will afford him both profit and pleasure; a business
which nobody knows better how to manage with advantage. I am too old to
follow printing again myself, but, loving the business, I have brought
up my grandson Benjamin to it, and have built and furnished a
printing-house for him, which he now manages under my eye. I have great
pleasure in the rest of my grandchildren, who are now in number eight,
and all promising, the youngest only six months old, but shows signs of
great good-nature. My friends here are numerous, and I enjoy as much of
their conversation as I can reasonably wish; and I have as much health
and cheerfulness as can well be expected at my age, now eighty-two.
Hitherto this long life has been tolerably happy, so that, if I were
allowed to live it over again, I should make no objection, only wishing
for leave to do, what authors do in a second edition of their works,
correct some of my errata. Among the felicities of my life I reckon your
friendship, which I shall remember with pleasure as long as life lasts,
being ever, my dear friend, yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Dr. Price._

"Philadelphia, May 31, 1789.

"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,

"I lately received your kind letter, enclosing one from Miss Kitty
Shipley, informing me of the good bishop's decease, which afflicted me
greatly. My friends drop off one after another, when my age and
infirmities prevent me making new ones, and if I still retain the
necessary activity and ability, I hardly see among the existing
generation where I could make them of equal goodness. So that, the
longer I live, I must expect to be the more wretched. As we draw nearer
the conclusion of life, nature furnishes us with more helps to wean us
from it, among which one of the most powerful is the loss of such dear
friends.

"I send you with this the two volumes of our Transactions, as I forget
whether you had the first before. If you had, you will please to give
this to the French ambassador, requesting his conveyance of it to the
good Duke de la Rochefoucauld. My best wishes attend you, being ever,
with sincere and great esteem, my dear friend, yours most
affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_B. Vaughan._

"Philadelphia, June 3, 1789.

"MY DEAREST FRIEND,

"I received your kind letter of March 4, and wish I may be able to
complete what you so earnestly desire, the Memoirs of my Life. But of
late I am so interrupted by extreme pain, which obliges me to have
recourse to opium, that between the effects of both I have but little
time in which I can write anything. My grandson, however, is copying
what is done, which will be sent to you for your opinion, by the next
vessel; and not merely for your opinion, but for your advice; for I find
it a difficult task to speak decently and properly of one's own conduct;
and I feel the want of a judicious friend to encourage me in scratching
out.

"I have condoled sincerely with the bishop of St. Asaph's family. He was
an excellent man. Losing our friends thus one by one is the tax we pay
for long living; and it is indeed a heavy one!

"I have not seen the King of Prussia's posthumous works; what you
mention makes me desirous to have them. Please to mention it to your
brother William, and that I request he would add them to the books I
have desired him to buy for me.

"Our new government is now in train, and seems to promise well. But
events are in the hand of God! I am ever, my dear friend, yours most
affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

"_Dr. Rush._

"Philadelphia.
[Without date, but supposed to be in 1789.]

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

"During our long acquaintance you have shown many instances of your
regard for me, yet I must now desire you to add one more to the number,
which is that if you publish your ingenious discourse on the _moral
sense_, you will totally omit and suppress that extravagant encomium on
your friend Franklin, which hurt me exceedingly in the unexpected
hearing, and will mortify me beyond conception if it should appear from
the press.

"Confiding in your compliance with this earnest request, I am ever, my
dear friend, yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_To Miss Catharine Louisa Shipley._

"Philadelphia, April 27, 1789.

"It is only a few days since the kind letter of my dear young friend,
dated December 24, came to my hands. I had before, in the public papers,
met with the afflicting news that letter contained. That excellent man
has then left us! his departure is a loss, not to his family and friends
only, but to his nation and to the world: for he was intent on doing
good, had wisdom to devise the means, and talents to promote them. His
sermon before the Society for Propagating the Gospel, and "_his speech
intended to be spoken_," are proofs of his ability as well as his
humanity. Had his counsels in those pieces been attended to by the
ministers, how much bloodshed might have been prevented, and how much
expense and disgrace to the nation avoided!

"Your reflections on the constant calmness and composure attending his
death are very sensible. Such instances seem to show that the good
sometimes enjoy, in dying, a foretaste of the happy state they are
about to enter.

"According to the course of years, I should have quitted this world long
before him: I shall, however, not be long in following. I am now in my
eighty-fourth year, and the last year has considerably enfeebled me, so
that I hardly expect to remain another. You will then, my dear friend,
consider this as probably the last line to be received from me, and as a
taking leave.

"Present my best and most sincere respects to your good mother, and love
to the rest of the family, to whom I wish all happiness; and believe me
to be, while I _do_ live, yours most affectionately,

"B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_To_ * * *.

(Withoute date.)

"DEAR SIR,

"I have read your manuscript with some attention. By the argument it
contains against a particular Providence, though you allow a general
Providence, you strike at the foundations of all religion. For without
the belief of a Providence that takes cognizance of, guards and guides,
and may favour particular persons, there is no motive to worship a
Deity, to fear its displeasure, or to pray for its protection. I will
not enter into any discussion of your principles, though you seem to
desire it. At present I shall only give you my opinion, that though your
reasonings are subtle, and may prevail with some readers, you will not
succeed so as to change the general sentiments of mankind on that
subject, and the consequence of printing this piece will be, a great
deal of odium drawn upon yourself, mischief to you, and no benefit to
others. He that spits against the wind, spits in his own face. But were
you to succeed, do you imagine any good would be done by it? You
yourself may find it easy to live a virtuous life without the assistance
afforded by religion; you having a clear perception of the advantages of
virtue and the disadvantages of vice, and possessing a strength of
resolution sufficient to enable you to resist common temptations. But
think how great a portion of mankind consists of weak and ignorant men
and women, and of inexperienced, inconsiderate youth of both sexes, who
have need of the motives of religion to restrain them from vice, to
support their virtue, and retain them in the practice of it till it
becomes _habitual_, which is the great point of its security. And
perhaps you are indebted to her originally, that is, to your religious
education, for the habits of virtue upon which you now justly value
yourself. You might easily display your excellent talents of reasoning
upon a less hazardous subject, and thereby obtain a rank with our most
distinguished authors. For among us it is not necessary, as among the
Hottentots, that a youth to be raised into the company of men should
prove his manhood by beating his mother. I would advise you, therefore,
not to attempt unchaining the tiger, but to burn this piece before it is
seen by any other person, whereby you will save yourself a great deal of
mortification from the enemies it may raise against you, and, perhaps, a
great deal of regret and repentance. If men are so wicked _with
religion_, what would they be if _without it_? I intend this letter
itself as a _proof_ of my friendship, and, therefore, add no
_professions_ to it; but subscribe simply yours,

B. FRANKLIN."

* * * * *

_Copy of the last Letter written by Dr. Franklin._

"Philadelphia, April 8, 1790.

"SIR,

"I received your letter of the 31st of last past relating to
encroachments made on the eastern limits of the United States by
settlers under the British government, pretending that it is the
_western_, and not the _eastern_ river of the Bay of Passamaquoddy which
was designated by the name of St. Croix, in the treaty of peace with
that nation; and requesting of me to communicate any facts which my
memory or papers may enable me to recollect, and which may indicate the
true river which the commissioners on both sides had in their view to
establish as the boundary between the two nations.

"Your letter found me under a severe fit of my malady, which prevented
my answering it sooner, or attending, indeed, to any kind of business. I
now can assure you that I am perfectly clear in the remembrance that the
map we used in tracing the boundary was brought to the treaty by the
commissioners from England, and that it was the same that was published
by _Mitchell_ above twenty years before. Having a copy of that map by me
in loose sheets, I send you that sheet which contains the Bay of
Passamaquoddy, where you will see that part of the boundary traced. I
remember, too, that in that part of the boundary we relied much on the
opinion of Mr. Adams, who had been concerned in some former disputes
concerning those territories. I think, therefore, that you may obtain
still farther light from him.

"That the map we used was Mitchell's map, Congress were acquainted at
the time, by letter to their secretary for foreign affairs, which I
suppose may be found upon their files.

"I have the honour to be, with the greatest esteem and respect, sir,
your most obedient and most humble servant,

"B. FRANKLIN.

"To Thomas Jefferson, }
"Secretary of State of the United States."}

PHILOSOPHICAL SUBJECTS.

_To the Abbé Soulavie._[35]

[35] Occasioned by his sending me some notes he had taken of what I
had said to him in conversation on the Theory of the Earth. I wrote
it to set him right in some points wherein he had mistaken my
meaning.--B. F.

_Theory of the Earth._--Read in the American Philosophical Society,
November 22, 1782.

Passy, September 22, 1782.

I return the papers with some corrections. I did not find coal mines
under the calcareous rocks in Derbyshire. I only remarked, that at the
lowest part of that rocky mountain which was in sight, there were oyster
shells mixed in 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
_boulversement_ 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 the
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 of the solids we
are acquainted with, which therefore might swim in or upon that fluid.
Thus the surface of the globe would be a shell, capable of being broken
or 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 to 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 increasing as it approached the centre in the same
proportion as above the surface, it would, at the depth of---- leagues,
be heavier than gold; possibly the 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 subterraneous fires; though, as you
observe, the sudden rarefaction of water coming into contact without
those fires, may also be an agent sufficiently strong for that purpose,
when acting 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 separate particles
being originally mixed in confusion, and occupying a great space, they
would (as soon as the almighty fiat ordained gravity, or the mutual
attraction of certain parts and the mutual repulsion of others, to
exist) all move to their common centre: that the air, being a fluid
whose parts repel each other, though drawn to the common centre by their
gravity, would be densest towards the centre, and rarer as more remote;
consequently, all matters 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 specific 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 earth, leaving the upper atmosphere nearly clear. The
original movement of the parts towards their common centre would
naturally form a whirl there, which would continue upon the turning of
the new-formed globe upon its axis, and the greatest diameter of the
shell would be in its equator. If by any accident afterward the axis
should be changed, the dense internal fluid, by altering its form, must
burst the shell and throw all its substance into the confusion in which
we find it. I will not trouble you at present with my fancies concerning
the manner of forming the rest of our system. Superior beings smile at
our theories, and at our presumption in making them. I will just
mention, that your observations on the ferruginous nature of the lava
which is thrown out from the depths of our volcanoes, gave me great
pleasure. It has long been a supposition of mine, that the iron
contained in the surface of the globe has made it capable of becoming,
as it is, a great magnet; that the fluid of magnetism perhaps exists in
all space; so that there is a magnetical north and south of the
universe, 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 compass;
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 equally; when within the influence of the magnet it
is drawn to one end of the iron, made denser there 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 the changes it formerly suffered, which
occasioned the rupture of its shell, the submersions and emersions of
its lands, and the confusion of its seasons. The present polar and
equatorial diameters differing from each other near ten leagues, it is
easy to conceive, in case some power should shift the axis gradually,
and place it in the present equator, and make the new equator pass
through the present poles, what a sinking of the waters would happen in
the equatorial regions, and what a rising in the present polar regions;
so that vast tracts would be discovered that now are under water, and
others covered that are now dry, the water rising and sinking in the
different extremes near five leagues. Such an operation as this possibly
occasioned much of Europe, and, among the rest, this mountain of Passy
on which I live, and which is composed of limestone, rock, and
seashells, to be abandoned by the sea, and to change its ancient
climate, which seems to have been a hot one. The globe being now become
a perfect magnet, we are, perhaps, safe from any change of its axis. But
we are still subject to the accidents on the surface, which are
occasioned by a wave in the internal ponderous fluid; and such a wave is
producible by the sudden violent explosion you mention, happening from
the junction of water and fire under the earth, which not only lifts the
incumbent earth that is over the explosion, but, impressing with the
same force the fluid under it, creates a wave that may run a thousand
leagues, lifting, and thereby shaking, successively, all the countries
under which it passes. I know not whether I have expressed myself so
clearly as not to get out of your 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 imagination; but I
approve much more your method of 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 studying 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,

B. FRANKLIN.

P.S.--I have heard that chymists can by their art decompose stone and
wood, extracting a considerable quantity of water from the 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 consume combustibles of all kinds, and produce heat or light, we
do not create that heat or light, but decompose a substance which
received it originally as a part of its composition? Heat may be thus
considered as originally in a fluid state; but, attracted by organized
bodies in their growth, becomes a part of the solid. Besides this, I can
conceive, that in the first assemblage of the particles of which the
earth is composed, each brought its portion of loose heat that had been
connected with it, and the whole, when pressed together, produced the
internal fire that still subsists.

* * * * *

_To Dr. John Pringle._

ON THE DIFFERENT STRATA OF THE EARTH.

Craven-street, Jan. 6, 1758.

I return you Mr. Mitchell's paper on the strata of the earth[36] with
thanks. The reading of it, and the perusal of the draught that
accompanies it, have reconciled me to those convulsions which all
naturalists agree this globe has suffered. Had the different strata of
clay, gravel, marble, coals, limestone, sand, minerals, &c., continued
to lie level, one under the other, as they may be supposed to have done
before those convulsions, we should have had the use only of a few of
the uppermost of the strata, the others lying too deep and too difficult
to be come at; but the shell of the earth being broke, and the fragments
thrown into this oblique position, the disjointed ends of a great number
of strata of different kinds are brought up to day, and a great variety
of useful materials put into our power, which would otherwise have
remained eternally concealed from us. So that what has been usually
looked upon as a _ruin_ suffered by this part of the universe, was, in
reality, only a preparation, or means of rendering the earth more fit
for use, more capable of being to mankind a convenient and comfortable
habitation.

[36] The paper of Mr. Mitchell, here referred to, was published
afterward in the Philosophical Transactions of London.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Mr. Bowdoin._

_Queries and Conjectures relating to Magnetism
and the Theory of the Earth._--Read in the American Philosophical
Society January 15, 1790.

I received your favours by Messrs. Gore, Hilliard, and Lee, with whose
conversation I was much pleased, and wished for more of it; but their
stay with us was too short. Whenever you recommend any of your friends
to me, you oblige me.

I want to know whether your Philosophical Society received the second
volume of our Transactions. I sent it, but never heard of its arriving.
If it miscarried, I will send another. Has your Society among its books
the French work _Sur les Arts et les Metiers_? It is voluminous, well
executed, and may be useful in our country. I have bequeathed it them in
my will; but if they have it already, I will substitute something else.

Our ancient correspondence used to have something philosophical in it.
As you are now free from public cares, and I expect to be so in a few
months, why may we not resume that kind of correspondence? Our much
regretted friend Winthrop once made me the compliment, that I was good
at starting game for philosophers, let me try if I can start a little
for you.

Has the question, how came the earth by its magnetism, ever been
considered?

Is it likely that _iron ore_ immediately existed when this globe was at
first formed; or may it not rather be supposed a gradual production of
time?

If the earth is at present magnetical, in virtue of the masses of iron
ore contained in it, might not some ages pass before it had magnetic
polarity?

Since iron ore may exist without that polarity, and, by being placed in
certain circumstances, may obtain it from an external cause, is it not
possible that the earth received its magnetism from some such cause?

In short, may not a magnetic power exist throughout our system, perhaps
through all systems, so that if men could make a voyage in the starry
regions, a compass might be of use? And may not such universal
magnetism, with its uniform direction, be serviceable in keeping the
diurnal revolution of a planet more steady to the same axis?

Lastly, as the poles of magnets may be changed by the presence of
stronger magnets, might not, in ancient times, the near passing of some
large comet, of greater magnetic power than this globe of ours, have
been a means of changing its poles, and thereby wrecking and deranging
its surface, placing in different regions the effect of centrifugal
force, so as to raise the waters of the sea in some, while they were
depressed in others?

Let me add another question or two, not relating indeed to magnetism,
but, however, to the theory of the earth.

Is not the finding of great quantities of shells and bones of animals
(natural to hot climates) in the cold ones of our present world, some
proof that its poles have been changed? Is not the supposition that the
poles have been changed, the easiest way of accounting for the deluge,
by getting rid of the old difficulty how to dispose of its waters after
it was over! Since, if the poles were again to be changed, and placed in
the present equator, the sea would fall there about fifteen miles in
height, and rise as much in the present polar regions; and the effect
would be proportionable if the new poles were placed anywhere between
the present and the equator.

Does not the apparent wreck of the surface of this globe, thrown up into
long ridges of mountains, with strata in various positions, make it
probable that its internal mass is a fluid, but a fluid so dense as to
float the heaviest of our substances? Do we know the limit of
condensation air is capable of? Supposing it to grow denser _within_ the
surface in the same proportion nearly as it does _without_, at what
depth may it be equal in density with gold?

Can we easily conceive how the strata of the earth could have been so
deranged, if it had not been a mere shell supported by a heavier fluid?
Would not such a supposed internal fluid globe be immediately sensible
of a change in the situation of the earth's axis, alter its form, and
thereby burst the shell and throw up parts of it above the rest? As if
we would alter the position of the fluid contained in the shell of an
egg, and place its longest diameter where the shortest now is, the shell
must break; but would be much harder to break if the whole internal
substance were as solid and as hard as the shell.

Might not a wave, by any means raised in this supposed internal ocean of
extremely dense fluid, raise, in some degree as it passes, the present
shell of incumbent earth, and break it in some places, as in
earthquakes. And may not the progress of such wave, and the disorders it
occasions among the solids of the shell, account for the rumbling sound
being first heard at a distance, augmenting as it approaches, and
gradually dying away as it proceeds? A circumstance observed by the
inhabitants of South America, in their last great earthquake, that noise
coming from a place some degrees north of Lima, and being traced by
inquiry quite down to Buenos Ayres, proceeded regularly from north to
south at the rate of ____ leagues per minute, as I was informed by a
very ingenious Peruvian whom I met with at Paris.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To M. Dubourg._

ON THE NATURE OF SEACOAL.

I am persuaded, as well as you, that the seacoal has a vegetable origin,
and that it has been formed near the surface of the earth; but, as
preceding convulsions of nature had served to bring it very deep in many
places, and covered it with many different strata, we are indebted to
subsequent convulsions for having brought within our view the
extremities of its veins, so as to lead us to penetrate the earth in
search of it. I visited last summer a large coalmine at Whitehaven, in
Cumberland; and in following the vein, and descending by degrees towards
the sea, I penetrated below the ocean where the level of its surface was
more than eight hundred fathoms above my head, and the miners assured me
that their works extended some miles beyond the place where I then was,
continually and gradually descending under the sea. The slate, which
forms the roof of this coalmine, is impressed in many places with the
figures of leaves and branches of fern, which undoubtedly grew at the
surface when the slate was in the state of sand on the banks of the sea.
Thus it appears that this vein of coal has suffered a prodigious
settlement.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

CAUSES OF EARTHQUAKES.

The late earthquake felt here, and probably in all the neighbouring
provinces, having made many people desirous to know what may be the
natural cause of such violent concussions, we shall endeavour to gratify
their curiosity by giving them the various opinions of the learned on
that head.

Here naturalists are divided. Some ascribe them to water, others to
fire, and others to air, and all of them with some appearance of reason.
To conceive which, it is to be observed that the earth everywhere
abounds in huge subterraneous caverns, veins, and canals, particularly
about the roots of mountains; that of these cavities, veins, &c., some
are full of water, whence are composed gulfs, abysses, springs,
rivulets; and others full of exhalations; and that some parts of the
earth are replete with nitre, sulphur, bitumen, vitriol, &c. This
premised,

1. The earth itself may sometimes be the cause of its own shaking; when
the roots or basis of some large mass being dissolved, or worn away by a
fluid underneath, it sinks into the same, and, with its weight,
occasions a tremour of the adjacent parts, produces a noise, and
frequently an inundation of water.

2. The subterraneous waters may occasion earthquakes by their
overflowing, cutting out new courses, &c. Add that the water, being
heated and rarefied by the subterraneous fires, may emit fumes, blasts,
&c., which, by their action either on the water or immediately on the
earth itself, may occasion great succussions.

3. The air may be the cause of earthquakes; for the air being a
collection of fumes and vapours raised from the earth and water, if it
be pent up in too narrow viscera of the earth, the subterraneous or its
own native heat rarefying and expanding it, the force wherewith it
endeavours to escape may shake the earth; hence there arises divers
species of earthquakes, according to the different position, quantity,
&c., of the imprisoned _aura_.

Lastly, fire is a principal cause of earthquakes; both as it produces
the aforesaid subterraneous _aura_ or vapours, and as this _aura_ or
spirit, from the different matter and composition whereof arise sulphur,
bitumen, and other inflammable matters, takes fire, either from other
fire it meets withal, or from its collision against hard bodies, or its
intermixture with other fluids; by which means, bursting out into a
greater compass, the place becomes too narrow for it, so that, pressing
against it on all sides, the adjoining parts are shaken, till, having
made itself a passage, it spends itself in a volcano or burning
mountain.

But to come nearer to the point. Dr. Lister is of opinion that the
material cause of thunder, lightning, and earthquakes, is one and the
same, viz., the inflammable breath of the pyrites, which is a
substantial sulphur, and takes fire of itself.

The difference between these three terrible phenomena he takes only to
consist in this: that the sulphur in the former is fired in the air, and
in the latter under ground. Which is a notion Pliny had long before him:
"_Quid enim_," says he, "_aliud est in terrâ tremor, quam in nube
tonitru?_" For wherein does the trembling of the earth differ from that
occasioned by thunder in the clouds?

This he thinks abundantly indicated by the same sulphurous smell being
found in anything burned with lightning, and in the waters, &c., cast up
in earthquakes, and even in the air before and after them.

Add that they agree in the manner of the noise which is carried on, as
in a train fired; the one, rolling and rattling through the air, takes
fire as the vapours chance to drive; as the other, fired under ground in
like manner, moves with a desultory noise.

Thunder, which is the effect of the trembling of the air, caused by the
same vapours dispersed through it, has force enough to shake our houses;
and why there may not be thunder and lightning under ground, in some
vast repositories there, I see no reason; especially if we reflect that
the matter which composes the noisy vapour above us is in much larger
quantities under ground.

That the earth abounds in cavities everybody allows; and that these
subterraneous cavities are, at certain times and in certain seasons,
full of inflammable vapours, the damps in mines sufficiently witness,
which, fired, do everything as in an earthquake, save in a lesser
degree.

Add that the pyrites alone, of all the known minerals, yields this
inflammable vapour, is highly probable; for that no mineral or ore
whatsoever is sulphurous, but as it is wholly or in part a pyrites, and
that there is but one species of brimstone which the pyrites naturally
and only yields. The _sulphur vive_, or natural brimstone, which is
found in and about the burning mountains, is certainly the effects of
sublimation, and those great quantities of it said to be found about the
skirts of volcanoes is only an argument of the long duration and
vehemence of those fires. Possibly the pyrites of the volcanoes, or
burning mountains, may be more sulphurous than ours; and, indeed, it is
plain that some of ours in England are very lean, and hold but little
sulphur; others again very much, which may be some reason why England is
so little troubled with earthquakes, and Italy, and almost all round the
Mediterranean Sea, so much; though another reason is, the paucity of
pyrites in England.

Comparing our earthquakes, thunder, and lightning, with theirs, it is
observed that there it lightens almost daily, especially in summer-time,
here seldom; there thunder and lightning is of long duration, here it is
soon over; there the earthquakes are frequent, long, and terrible, with
many paroxysms in a day, and that for many days; here very short, a few
minutes, and scarce perceptible. To this purpose the subterraneous
caverns in England are small and few compared to the vast vaults in
those parts of the world; which is evident from the sudden disappearance
of whole mountains and islands.

Dr. Woodward gives us another theory of earthquakes. He endeavours to
show that the subterraneous heat or fire (which is continually elevating
water out of the abyss, to furnish the earth with rain, dew, springs,
and rivers), being stopped in any part of the earth, and so diverted
from its ordinary course by some accidental glut or obstruction in the
pores or passages through which it used to ascend to the surface,
becomes, by such means, preternaturally assembled in a greater quantity
than usual into one place, and therefore causeth a great rarefaction and
intumescence of the water of the abyss, putting it into great commotions
and disorders, and at the same time making the like effort on the earth,
which, being expanded upon the face of the abyss, occasions that
agitation and concussion we call an earthquake.

This effort in some earthquakes, he observes, is so vehement, that it
splits and tears the earth, making cracks and chasms in it some miles in
length, which open at the instant of the shock, and close again in the
intervals between them; nay, it is sometimes so violent that it forces
the superincumbent strata, breaks them all throughout, and thereby
perfectly undermines and ruins the foundation of them; so that, these
failing, the whole tract, as soon as the shock is over, sinks down into
the abyss, and is swallowed up by it, the water thereof immediately
rising up and forming a lake in the place where the said tract before
was. That this effort being made in all directions indifferently, the
fire, dilating and expanding on all hands, and endeavouring to get room
and make its way through all obstacles, falls as foul on the waters of
the abyss beneath as on the earth above, forcing it forth, which way
soever it can find vent or passage, as well through its ordinary exits,
wells, springs, and the outlets of rivers, as through the chasms then
newly opened, through the _camini_ or spiracles of Ætna, or other
neighbouring volcanoes, and those hiatuses at the bottom of the sea
whereby the abyss below opens into it and communicates with it. That as
the water resident in the abyss is, in all parts of it, stored with a
considerable quantity of heat, and more especially in those where those
extraordinary aggregations of this fire happen, so likewise is the water
which is thus forced out of it, insomuch that, when thrown forth and
mixed with the waters of wells, or springs of rivers and the sea, it
renders them very sensibly hot.

He adds, that though the abyss be liable to those commotions in all
parts, yet the effects are nowhere very remarkable except in those
countries which are mountainous, and, consequently, stony or cavernous
underneath; and especially where the disposition of the strata is such
that those caverns open the abyss, and so freely admit and entertain the
fire which, assembling therein, is the cause of the shock; it naturally
steering its course that way where it finds the readiest reception,
which is towards those caverns. Besides, that those parts of the earth
which abound with strata of stone or marble, making the strongest
opposition to this effort, are the most furiously shattered, and suffer
much more by it than those which consist of gravel, sand, and the like
laxer matter, which more easily give way, and make not so great
resistance. But, above all, those countries which yield great store of
sulphur and nitre are by far the most injured by earthquakes; those
minerals constituting in the earth a kind of natural gunpowder, which,
taking fire upon this assemblage and approach of it, occasions that
murmuring noise, that subterraneous thunder, which is heard rumbling in
the bowels of the earth during earthquakes, and by the assistance of its
explosive power renders the shock much greater, so as sometimes to make
miserable havoc and destruction.

And it is for this reason that Italy, Sicily, Anatolia, and some parts
of Greece, have been so long and often alarmed and harassed by
earthquakes; these countries being all mountainous and cavernous,
abounding with stone and marble, and affording sulphur and nitre in
great plenty.

Farther, that Ætna, Vesuvius, Hecla, and the other volcanoes, are only
so many spiracles, serving for the discharge of this subterraneous fire,
when it is thus preternaturally assembled. That where there happens to
be such a structure and conformation of the interior part of the earth,
as that the fire may pass freely, and without impediment, from the
caverns wherein it assembles unto those spiracles, it then readily gets
out, from time to time, without shaking or disturbing the earth; but
where such communication is wanting, or passage not sufficiently large
and open, so that it cannot come at the spiracles, it heaves up and
shocks the earth with greater or lesser impetuosity, according to the
quantity of fire thus assembled, till it has made its way to the mouth
of the volcano. That, therefore, there are scarce any countries much
annoyed by earthquakes but have one of these fiery vents, which are
constantly in flames when any earthquake happens, as disgorging that
fire which, while underneath, was the cause of the disaster. Lastly,
that were it not for these _diverticula_, it would rage in the bowels of
the earth much more furiously, and make greater havoc than it doth.

We have seen what fire and water may do, and that either of them are
sufficient for all the phenomena of earthquakes; if they should both
fail, we have a third agent scarce inferior to either of them; the
reader must not be surprised when we tell him it is air.

Monsieur Amontons, in his _Mémoires de l'Académie des Sciences, An.
1703_, has an express discourse to prove, that on the foot of the new
experiments of the weight and spring of the air, a moderate degree of
heat may bring the air into a condition capable of causing earthquakes.
It is shown that at the depth of 43,528 fathoms below the surface of the
earth, air is only one fourth less heavy than mercury. Now this depth of
43,528 fathoms is only a seventy-fourth part of the semi-diameter of the
earth. And the vast sphere beyond this depth, in diameter 6,451,538
fathoms, may probably be only filled with air, which will be here
greatly condensed, and much heavier than the heaviest bodies we know in
nature. But it is found by experiment that, the more air is compressed,
the more does the same degree of heat increase its spring, and the more
capable does it render it of a violent effect; and that, for instance,
the degree of heat of boiling water increases the spring of the air
above what it has in its natural state, in our climate, by a quantity
equal to a third of the weight wherewith it is pressed. Whence we may
conclude that a degree of heat, which on the surface of the earth will
only have a moderate effect, may be capable of a very violent one below.
And as we are assured that there are in nature degrees of heat much more
considerable than boiling water, it is very possible there may be some
whose violence, farther assisted by the exceeding weight of the air, may
be more than sufficient to break and overturn this solid orb of 43,528
fathoms, whose weight, compared to that of the included air, would be
but a trifle.

Chymistry furnishes us a method of making artificial earthquakes which
shall have all the great effects of natural ones; which, as it may
illustrate the process of nature in the production of these terrible
phenomena under ground, we shall here add.

To twenty pounds of iron filings add as many of sulphur; mix, work, and
temper the whole together with a little water, so as to form a mass half
wet and half dry. This being buried three or four feet under ground, in
six or seven hours time will have a prodigious effect; the earth will
begin to tremble, crack, and smoke, and fire and flame burst through.

Such is the effect even of the two cold bodies in cold ground; there
only wants a sufficient quantity of this mixture to produce a true Ætna.
If it were supposed to burst out under the sea, it would produce a
spout; and if it were in the clouds, the effect would be thunder and
lightning.

An earthquake is defined to be a vehement shake or agitation of some
considerable place, or part of the earth, from natural causes, attended
with a huge noise like thunder, and frequently with an eruption of
water, or fire, or smoke, or winds, &c.

They are the greatest and most formidable phenomena of nature. Aristotle
and Pliny distinguish two kinds, with respect to the manner of the
shake, viz., a tremour and a pulsation; the first being horizontal, in
alternate vibrations, compared to the shaking of a person in an ague;
the second perpendicular, up and down, their motion resembling that of
boiling.

Agricola increases the number, and makes four kinds, which Albertus
Magnus again reduces to three, viz., inclination, when the earth
vibrates alternately from right to left, by which mountains have been
sometimes brought to meet and clash against each other; pulsation, when
it beats up and down, like an artery; and trembling, when it shakes and
totters every way, like a flame.

The Philosophical Transactions furnish us with abundance of histories of
earthquakes, particularly one at Oxford in 1665, by Dr. Wallis and Mr.
Boyle. Another at the same place in 1683, by Mr. Pigot. Another in
Sicily, in 1692-3, by Mr. Hartop, Father Alessandro Burgos, and Vin.
Bonajutus, which last is one of the most terrible ones in all history.

It shook the whole island; and not only that, but Naples and Malta
shared in the shock. It was of the second kind mentioned by Aristotle
and Pliny, viz., a perpendicular pulsation or succussion. It was
impossible, says the noble Bonajutus, for anybody in this country to
keep on their legs on the dancing earth; nay, those that lay on the
ground were tossed from side to side as on a rolling billow; high walls
leaped from their foundations several paces.

The mischief it did is amazing; almost all the buildings in the
countries were thrown down. Fifty-four cities and towns, besides an
incredible number of villages, were either destroyed or greatly damaged.
We shall only instance the fate of Catania, one of the most famous,
ancient, and flourishing cities in the kingdom, the residence of several
monarchs, and a university. "This once famous, now unhappy Catania," to
use words of Father Burgos, "had the greatest share in the tragedy.
Father Antonio Serovita, being on his way thither, and at the distance
of a few miles, observed a black cloud, like night, hovering over the
city, and there arose from the mouth of Mongibello great spires of
flame, which spread all around. The sea, all of a sudden, began to roar
and rise in billows, and there was a blow, as if all the artillery in
the world had been at once discharged. The birds flew about astonished,
the cattle in the fields ran crying, &c. His and his companion's horse
stopped short, trembling; so that they were forced to alight. They were
no sooner off but they were lifted from the ground above two palms.
When, casting his eyes towards Catania, he with amazement saw nothing
but a thick cloud of dust in the air. This was the scene of their
calamity; for of the magnificent Catania there is not the least footstep
to be seen." Bonajutus assures us, that of 18,914 inhabitants, 18,000
perished therein. The same author, from a computation of the inhabitants
before and after the earthquake, in the several cities and towns, finds
that near 60,000 perished out of 254,900.

Jamaica is remarkable for earthquakes. The inhabitants, Dr. Sloane
informs us, expect one every year. The author gives the history of one
in 1687; another horrible one, in 1692, is described by several
anonymous authors. In two minutes' time it shook down and drowned nine
tenths of the town of Port Royal. The houses sunk outright, thirty or
forty fathoms deep. The earth, opening, swallowed up people, and they
rose in other streets; some in the middle of the harbour, and yet were
saved; though there were two thousand people lost, and one thousand
acres of land sunk. All the houses were thrown down throughout the
island. One Hopkins had his plantation removed half a mile from its
place. Of all wells, from one fathom to six or seven, the water flew out
at the top with a vehement motion. While the houses on the one side of
the street were swallowed up, on the other they were thrown in heaps;
and the sand in the street rose like waves in the sea, lifting up
everybody that stood on it, and immediately dropping down into pits; and
at the same instant, a flood of waters breaking in, rolled them over
and over; some catching hold of beams and rafters, &c. Ships and sloops
in the harbour were overset and lost; the Swan frigate particularly, by
the motion of the sea and sinking of the wharf, was driven over the tops
of many houses.

It was attended with a hollow rumbling noise like that of thunder. In
less than a minute three quarters of the houses, and the ground they
stood on, with the inhabitants, were all sunk quite under water, and the
little part left behind was no better than a heap of rubbish. The shake
was so violent that it threw people down on their knees or their faces,
as they were running about for shelter. The ground heaved and swelled
like a rolling sea, and several houses, still standing, were shuffled
and moved some yards out of their places. A whole street is said to be
twice as broad now as before; and in many places the earth would crack,
and open, and shut, quick and fast, of which openings two or three
hundred might be seen at a time; in some whereof the people were
swallowed up, others the closing earth caught by the middle and pressed
to death, in others the heads only appeared. The larger openings
swallowed up houses; and out of some would issue whole rivers of waters,
spouted up a great height into the air, and threatening a deluge to that
part the earthquake spared. The whole was attended with stenches and
offensive smells, the noise of falling mountains at a distance, &c., and
the sky in a minute's time was turned dull and reddish, like a glowing
oven. Yet, as great a sufferer as Port Royal was, more houses were left
standing therein than on the whole island besides. Scarce a
planting-house or sugar-work was left standing in all Jamaica. A great
part of them were swallowed up, houses, people, trees, and all at one
gape; in lieu of which afterward appeared great pools of water, which,
when dried up, left nothing but sand, without any mark that ever tree
or plant had been thereon.

Above twelve miles from the sea the earth gaped and spouted out, with a
prodigious force, vast quantities of water into the air, yet the
greatest violences were among the mountains and rocks; and it is a
general opinion, that the nearer the mountains, the greater the shake,
and that the cause thereof lay there. Most of the rivers were stopped up
for twenty-four hours by the falling of the mountains, till, swelling
up, they found themselves new tracts and channels, tearing up in their
passage trees, &c. After the great shake, those people who escaped got
on board ships in the harbour, where many continued above two months;
the shakes all that time being so violent, and coming so thick,
sometimes two or three in an hour, accompanied with frightful noises,
like a ruffling wind, or a hollow, rumbling thunder, with brimstone
blasts, that they durst not come ashore. The consequence of the
earthquake was a general sickness, from the noisome vapours belched
forth, which swept away above three thousand persons.

After the detail of these horrible convulsions, the reader will have but
little curiosity left for the less considerable phenomena of the
earthquake at Lima in 1687, described by Father Alvarez de Toledo,
wherein above five thousand persons were destroyed; this being of the
vibratory kind, so that the bells in the church rung of themselves; or
that at Batavia in 1699, by Witsen; that in the north of England in
1703, by Mr. Thoresby; or, lastly, those in New-England in 1663 and
1670, by Dr. Mather.

* * * * *

_To David Rittenhouse._

_New and curious Theory of Light and Heat._--Read in the American
Philosophical Society, November 20, 1788.

Universal space, as far as we know of it, seems to be filled with a
subtile fluid, whose motion or vibration is called light.

This fluid may possibly be the same with that which, being attracted by,
and entering into other more solid matter, dilutes 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
functions; 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 augmenting 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 a part 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 appearance as fire?

For the power of man relative to matter seems limited to the separating
or mixing the various kinds of it, or changing its form and appearance
by different compositions of it; but does not extend to the making or
creating 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 universe. We cannot destroy any part of it, or make addition to
it; we can only separate it from that which confines it, and so set it
at liberty; as when we put wood in a situation to be burned, or
transfer it from one solid to another, as when we make lime by burning
stone, a part of the fire dislodged in the fuel being left in the stone.
May not this fluid, when at liberty, be capable of penetrating and
entering 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 proportion as
its quantity is diminished or augmented?

Is it not the greater gravity of the particles of air which forces the
particles of this fluid to mount with the matters to which it is
attached, as smoke or vapour?

Does it not seem to have a greater affinity with water, since it will
quit a solid to unite with that fluid, and go off with it in vapour,
leaving the solid cold to the touch, and the degree measurable 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 with the universal mass of the same kind?

Or does a spherical stratum of it, denser, as 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 of communication 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 vibrations, striking
common matter with a certain force, enters its substance, is held there
by attraction, and augmented by succeeding 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 heated 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 part 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, the 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
afterward be continually diminishing by the substance it afforded to
organized bodies, and the quantity restored to it again by the burning
or other separating of the parts of those bodies?

Is not the natural heat of animals thus produced, by separating in
digestion the parts of food, and setting their fire at liberty?

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 included air is greatly
rarefied by the heat on their burning surfaces?

May it not have been from such considerations that the ancient
philosophers supposed a sphere of fire to exist above the air of our
atmosphere?

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_Of Lightning; and the Methods now used in America for the securing
Buildings and Persons from its mischievous Effects._

Experiments made in electricity first gave philosophers a suspicion that
the matter of lightning was the same with the electric matter.
Experiments afterward made on lightning obtained from the clouds by
pointed rods, received into bottles, and subjected to every trial, have
since proved this suspicion to be perfectly well founded; and that,
whatever properties we find in electricity, are also the properties of
lightning.

This matter of lightning or of electricity is an extreme subtile fluid,
penetrating other bodies, and subsisting in them, equally diffused.

When, by any operation of art or nature, there happens to be a greater
proportion of this fluid in one body than in another, the body which has
most will communicate to that which has least, till the proportion
becomes equal; provided the distance between them be not too great; or,
if it is too great, till there be proper conductors to convey it from
one to the other.

If the communication be through the air without any conductor, a bright
light is seen between the bodies, and a sound is heard. In our small
experiments we call this light and sound the electric spark and snap;
but in the great operations of nature the light is what we call
_lightning_, and the sound (produced at the same time, though generally
arriving later at our ears than the light does to our eyes) is, with its
echoes, called _thunder_.

If the communication of this fluid is by a conductor, it may be without
either light or sound, the subtile fluid passing in the substance of the
conductor.

If the conductor be good and of sufficient bigness, the fluid passes
through it without hurting it. If otherwise, it is damaged or
destroyed.

All metals and water are good conductors. Other bodies may become
conductors by having some quantity of water in them, as wood and other
materials used in building; but, not having much water in them, they are
not good conductors, and, therefore, are often damaged in the operation.

Glass, wax, silk, wool, hair, feathers, and even wood, perfectly dry,
are non-conductors: that is, they resist instead of facilitating the
passage of this subtile fluid.

When this fluid has an opportunity of passing through two conductors,
one good and sufficient, as of metal, the other not so good, it passes
in the best, and will follow it in any direction.

The distance at which a body charged with this fluid will discharge
itself suddenly, striking through the air into another body that is not
charged or not so highly charged, is different according to the quantity
of the fluid, the dimensions and form of the bodies themselves, and the
state of the air between them. This distance, whatever it happens to be,
between any two bodies, is called the _striking distance_, as, till they
come within that distance of each other, no stroke will be made.

The clouds have often more of this fluid, in proportion, than the earth;
in which case, as soon as they come near enough (that is, within the
striking distance) or meet with a conductor, the fluid quits them and
strikes into the earth. A cloud fully charged with this fluid, if so
high as to be beyond the striking distance from the earth, passes
quietly without making noise or giving light, unless it meets with other
clouds that have less.

Tall trees and lofty buildings, as the towers and spires of churches,
become sometimes conductors between the clouds and the earth; but, not
being good ones, that is, not conveying the fluid freely, they are often
damaged.

Buildings that have their roofs covered with lead or other metal, the
spouts of metal continued from the roof into the ground to carry off the
water, are never hurt by lightning as, whenever it falls on such a
building, it passes in the metals and not in the walls.

When other buildings happen to be within the striking distance from such
clouds, the fluid passes in the walls, whether of wood, brick, or stone,
quitting the walls only when it can find better conductors near them, as
metal rods, bolts, and hinges of windows or doors, gilding on wainscot
or frames of pictures, the silvering on the backs of looking-glasses,
the wires for bells, and the bodies of animals, as containing watery
fluids. And, in passing through the house, it follows the direction of
these conductors, taking as many in its way as can assist it in its
passage, whether in a straight or crooked line, leaping from one to the
other, if not far distant from each other, only rending the wall in the
spaces where these partial good conductors are too distant from each
other.

An iron rod being placed on the outside of a building, from the highest
part continued down into the moist earth in any direction, straight or
crooked, following the form of the roof or parts of the building, will
receive the lightning at the upper end, attracting it so as to prevent
its striking any other part, and affording it a good conveyance into the
earth, will prevent its damaging any part of the building.

A small quantity of metal is found able to conduct a great quantity of
this fluid. A wire no bigger than a goosequill has been known to conduct
(with safety to the building as far as the wire was continued) a
quantity of lightning that did prodigious damage both above and below
it; and probably larger rods are not necessary, though it is common in
America to make them of half an inch, some of three quarters or an inch
diameter.

The rod may be fastened to the wall, chimney &c., with staples of iron.
The lightning will not leave the rod (a good conductor) through those
staples. It would rather, if any were in the walls, pass out of it into
the rod, to get more readily by that conductor into the earth.

If the building be very large and extensive, two or more rods may be
placed at different parts, for greater security.

Small ragged parts of clouds, suspended in the air between the great
body of clouds and the earth (like leaf gold in electrical experiments)
often serve as partial conductors for the lightning, which proceeds from
one of them to another, and by their help comes within the striking
distance to the earth or a building. It therefore strikes through those
conductors a building that would otherwise be out of the striking
distance.

Long sharp points communicating with the earth, and presented to such
parts of clouds, drawing silently from them the fluid they are charged
with, they are then attracted to the cloud, and may leave the distance
so great as to be beyond the reach of striking.

It is therefore that we elevate the upper end of the rod six or eight
feet above the highest part of the building, tapering it gradually to a
fine sharp point, which is gilt to prevent its rusting.

Thus the pointed rod either prevents the stroke from the cloud, or, if a
stroke is made, conducts it to the earth with safety to the building.

The lower end of the rod should enter the earth so deep as to come at
the moist part, perhaps two or three feet; and if bent when under the
surface so as to go in a horizontal line six or eight feet from the
wall, and then bent again downward three or four feet, it will prevent
damage to any of the stones of the foundation.

A person apprehensive of danger from lightning, happening during the
time of thunder to be in a house not so secured, will do well to avoid
sitting near the chimney, near a looking-glass, or any gilt pictures or
wainscot; the safest place is the middle of the room (so it be not under
a metal lustre suspended by a chain), sitting on one chair and laying
the feet up in another. It is still safer to bring two or three
mattresses or beds into the middle of the room, and, folding them up
double, place the chair upon them; for they not being so good conductors
as the walls, the lightning will not choose an interrupted course
through the air of the room and the bedding, when it can go through a
continued better conductor, the wall. But where it can be had, a hammock
or swinging bed, suspended by silk cords equally distant from the walls
on every side, and from the ceiling and floor above and below, affords
the safest situation a person can have in any room whatever; and what,
indeed, may be deemed quite free from danger of any stroke by lightning.

B. FRANKLIN.

Paris, September, 1767.

* * * * *

_To Peter Collinson, London._

ELECTRICAL KITE.

Philadelphia, October 16, 1752.

As frequent mention is made in public papers from Europe of the success
of the Philadelphia experiment for drawing the electric fire from clouds
by means of pointed rods of iron erected on high buildings, &c., it may
be agreeable to the curious to be informed that the same experiment has
succeeded in Philadelphia, though made in a different and more easy
manner, which is as follows:

Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so long as to
reach to the four corners of a large thin silk handkerchief when
extended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to the extremities of the
cross, so you have the body of a kite, which, being properly
accommodated with a tail, loop, and string, will rise in the air like
those made of paper; but this, being of silk, is fitter to bear the wet
and wind of a thunder-gust without tearing. To the top of the upright
stick of the cross is to be fixed a very sharp-pointed wire, rising a
foot or more above the wood. To the end of the twine next the hand is to
be tied a silk riband, and where the silk and twine join, a key may be
fastened. This kite is to be raised when a thunder-gust appears to be
coming on, and the person who holds the string must stand within a door
or window, or under some cover, so that the silk riband may not be wet;
and care must be taken that the twine does not touch the frame of the
door or window. As soon as any of the thunder-clouds come over the kite,
the pointed wire will draw the electric fire from them, and the kite,
with all the twine, will be electrified, and the loose filaments of the
twine will stand out every way, and be attracted by an approaching
finger. And when the rain has wetted the kite and twine, so that it can
conduct the electric fire freely, you will find it stream out
plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle. At this key
the vial may be charged; and from electric fire thus obtained, spirits
may be kindled, and all the other electric experiments be performed,
which are usually done by the help of a rubbed glass globe or tube, and
thereby the sameness of the electric matter with that of lightning
completely demonstrated.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_Physical and Meteorological Observations, Conjectures, and
Suppositions._--Read at the Royal Society, June 3, 1756.

The particles of air are kept at a distance from each other by their
mutual repulsion * * *

Whatever particles of other matter (not endued with that repellancy) are
supported in air, must adhere to the particles of air, and be supported
by them; for in the vacancies there is nothing they can rest on.

Air and water mutually attract each other. Hence water will dissolve in
air, as salt in water.

The specific gravity of matter is not altered by dividing the matter,
though the superfices be increased. Sixteen leaden bullets, of an ounce
each, weigh as much in water as one of a pound, whose superfices is
less.

Therefore the supporting of salt in water is not owing to its superfices
being increased.

A lump of salt, though laid at rest at the bottom of a vessel of water,
will dissolve therein, and its parts move every way, till equally
diffused in the water; therefore there is a mutual attraction between
water and salt. Every particle of water assumes as many of salt as can
adhere to it; when more is added, it precipitates, and will not remain
suspended.

Water, in the same manner, will dissolve in air, every particle of air
assuming one or more particles of water. When too much is added, it
precipitates in rain.

But there not being the same contiguity between the particles of air as
of water, the solution of water in air is not carried on without a
motion of the air so as to cause a fresh accession of dry particles.

Part of a fluid, having more of what it dissolves, will communicate to
other parts that have less. Thus very salt water, coming in contact with
fresh, communicates its saltness till all is equal, and the sooner if
there is a little motion of the water. * * *

Air, suffering continual changes in the degrees of its heat, from
various causes and circumstances, and, consequently, changes in its
specific gravity, must therefore be in continual motion.

A small quantity of fire mixed with water (or degree of heat therein) so
weakens the cohesion of its particles, that those on the surface easily
quit it and adhere to the particles of air.

Air moderately heated will support a greater quantity of water invisibly
than cold air; for its particles being by heat repelled to a greater
distance from each other, thereby more easily keep the particles of
water that are annexed to them from running into cohesions that would
obstruct, refract, or reflect the light.

Hence, when we breathe in warm air, though the same quantity of moisture
may be taken up from the lungs as when we breathe in cold air, yet that
moisture is not so visible.

Water being extremely heated, _i. e._, to the degree of boiling, its
particles, in quitting it, so repel each other as to take up vastly more
space than before and by that repellancy support themselves, expelling
the air from the space they occupy. That degree of heat being lessened,
they again mutually attract, and having no air particles mixed to adhere
to, by which they might be supported and kept at a distance, they
instantly fall, coalesce, and become water again.

The water commonly diffused in our atmosphere never receives such a
degree of heat from the sun or other cause as water has when boiling; it
is not, therefore, supported by such heat, but by adhering to air. * * *

A particle of air loaded with adhering water or any other matter, is
heavier than before, and would descend.

The atmosphere supposed at rest, a loaded descending particle must act
with a force on the particles it passes between or meets with sufficient
to overcome, in some degree, their mutual repellancy, and push them
nearer to each other. * * *

Every particle of air, therefore, will bear any load inferior to the
force of these repulsions.

Hence the support of fogs, mists, clouds.

Very warm air, clear, though supporting a very great quantity of
moisture, will grow turbid and cloudy on the mixture of colder air, as
foggy, turbid air will grow clear by warming.

Thus the sun, shining on a morning fog, dissipates it; clouds are seen
to waste in a sunshiny day.

But cold condenses and renders visible the vapour: a tankard or decanter
filled with cold water will condense the moisture of warm, clear air on
its outside, where it becomes visible as dew, coalesces into drops,
descends in little streams.

The sun heats the air of our atmosphere most near the surface of the
earth; for there, besides the direct rays, there are many reflections.
Moreover, the earth itself, being heated, communicates of its heat to
the neighbouring air.

The higher regions, having only the direct rays of the sun passing
through them, are comparatively very cold. Hence the cold air on the
tops of mountains, and snow on some of them all the year, even in the
torrid zone. Hence hail in summer.

If the atmosphere were, all of it (both above and below), always of the
same temper as to cold or heat, then the upper air would always be
_rarer_ than the lower, because the pressure on it is less; consequently
lighter, and, therefore, would keep its place.

But the upper air may be more condensed by cold than the lower air by
pressure; the lower more expanded by heat than the upper for want of
pressure. In such case the upper air will become the heavier, the lower
the lighter.

The lower region of air being heated and expanded, heaves up and
supports for some time the colder, heavier air above, and will continue
to support it while the equilibrium is kept. Thus water is supported in
an inverted open glass, while the equilibrium is maintained by the equal
pressure upward of the air below; but the equilibrium by any means
breaking, the water descends on the heavier side, and the air rises into
its place.

The lifted heavy cold air over a heated country becoming by any means
unequally supported or unequal in its weight, the heaviest part descends
first, and the rest follows impetuously. Hence gusts after heats, and
hurricanes in hot climates. Hence the air of gusts and hurricanes is
cold, though in hot climates and seasons; it coming from above.

The cold air descending from above, as it penetrates our warm region
full of watery particles, condenses them, renders them visible, forms a
cloud thick and dark, overcasting sometimes, at once, large and
extensive; sometimes, when seen at a distance, small at first, gradually
increasing; the cold edge or surface of the cloud condensing the vapours
next it, which form smaller clouds that join it, increase its bulk, it
descends with the wind and its acquired weight, draws nearer the earth,
grows denser with continual additions of water, and discharges heavy
showers.

Small black clouds thus appearing in a clear sky, in hot climates
portend storms, and warn seamen to hand their sails.

The earth turning on its axis in about twenty-four hours, the equatorial
parts must move about fifteen miles in each minute; in northern and
southern latitudes this motion is gradually less to the poles, and there
nothing.

If there was a general calm over the face of the globe, it must be by
the air's moving in every part as fast as the earth or sea it covers. *
* *

The air under the equator and between the tropics being constantly
heated and rarefied by the sun, rises. Its place is supplied by air from
northern and southern latitudes, which, coming from parts wherein the
earth and air had less motion, and not suddenly acquiring the quicker
motion of the equatorial earth, appears an east wind blowing westward;
the earth moving from west to east, and slipping under the air.[37]

[37] See a paper on this subject, by the late ingenious Mr. Hadley,
in the Philadelphia Transactions, wherein this hypothesis of
explaining the tradewinds first appeared.

Thus, when we ride in a calm, it seems a wind against us: if we ride
with the wind, and faster, even that will seem a small wind against us.

The air rarefied between the tropics, and rising, must flow in the
higher region north and south. Before it rose it had acquired the
greatest motion the earth's rotation could give it. It retains some
degree of this motion, and descending in higher latitudes, where the
earth's motion is less, will appear a westerly wind, yet tending towards
the equatorial parts, to supply the vacancy occasioned by the air of the
lower regions flowing thitherward.

Hence our general cold winds are about northwest, our summer cold gusts
the same.

The air in sultry weather, though not cloudy, has a kind of haziness in
it, which makes objects at a distance appear dull and indistinct. This
haziness is occasioned by the great quantity of moisture equally
diffused in that air. When, by the cold wind blowing down among it, it
is condensed into clouds, and falls in rain, the air becomes purer and
clearer. Hence, after gusts, distant objects appear distinct, their
figures sharply terminated.

Extreme cold winds congeal the surface of the earth by carrying off its
fire. Warm winds afterward blowing over that frozen surface will be
chilled by it. Could that frozen surface be turned under, and warmer
turned up from beneath it, those warm winds would not be chilled so
much.

The surface of the earth is also sometimes much heated by the sun: and
such heated surface, not being changed, heats the air that moves over
it.

Seas, lakes, and great bodies of water, agitated by the winds,
continually change surfaces; the cold surface in winter is turned under
by the rolling of the waves, and a warmer turned up; in summer the warm
is turned under, and colder turned up. Hence the more equal temper of
seawater, and the air over it. Hence, in winter, winds from the sea seem
warm, winds from the land cold. In summer the contrary.

Therefore the lakes northwest of us,[38] as they are not so much frozen,
nor so apt to freeze as the earth, rather moderate than increase the
coldness of our winter winds.

[38] In Pennsylvania.

The air over the sea being warmer, and, therefore, lighter in winter
than the air over the frozen land, may be another cause of our general
northwest winds, which blow off to sea at right angles from our North
American coast. The warm, light sea-air rising, the heavy, cold land-air
pressing into its place.

Heavy fluids, descending, frequently form eddies or whirlpools, as is
seen in a funnel, where the water acquires a circular motion, receding
every way from a centre, and leaving a vacancy in the middle, greatest
above, and lessening downward, like a speaking-trumpet, its big end
upward.

Air, descending or ascending, may form the same kind of eddies or
whirlings, the parts of air acquiring a circular motion, and receding
from the middle of the circle by a centrifugal force, and leaving there
a vacancy; if descending, greatest above and lessening downward; if
ascending, greatest below and lessening upward; like a speaking-trumpet
standing its big end on the ground.

When the air descends with a violence in some places, it may rise with
equal violence in others, and form both kinds of whirlwinds.

The air, in its whirling motion, receding every way from the centre or
axis of the trumpet, leaves there a _vacuum_, which cannot be filled
through the sides, the whirling air, as an arch, preventing; it must
then press in at the open ends.

The greatest pressure inward must be at the lower end, the greatest
weight of the surrounding atmosphere being there. The air, entering,
rises within, and carries up dust, leaves, and even heavier bodies that
happen in its way, as the eddy or whirl passes over land.

If it passes over water, the weight of the surrounding atmosphere forces
up the water into the vacuity, part of which, by degrees, joins with the
whirling air, and, adding weight and receiving accelerated motion,
recedes farther from the centre or axis of the trump as the pressure
lessens; and at last, as the trump widens, is broken into small
particles, and so united with air as to be supported by it, and become
black clouds at the top of the trump.

Thus these eddies may be whirlwinds at land, water-spouts at sea. A body
of water so raised may be suddenly let fall, when the motion, &c., has
not strength to support it, or the whirling arch is broken so as to
admit the air: falling in the sea, it is harmless unless ships happen
under it; and if in the progressive motion of the whirl it has moved
from the sea over the land, and then breaks, sudden, violent, and
mischievous torrents are the consequences.

* * * * *

_To Dr. Perkins._

_Water-spouts and Whirlwinds compared._--Read at the Royal Society,
June 24, 1753.

Philadelphia, Feb. 4, 1753.

I ought to have written to you long since, in answer to yours of October
16, concerning the water-spout; but business partly, and partly a desire
of procuring farther information by inquiry among my seafaring
acquaintance, induced me to postpone writing, from time to time, till I
am almost ashamed to resume the subject, not knowing but you may have
forgot what has been said upon it.

Nothing certainly can be more improving to a searcher into nature than
objections judiciously made to his opinion, taken up, perhaps, too
hastily: for such objections oblige him to restudy the point, consider
every circumstance carefully, compare facts, make experiments, weigh
arguments, and be slow in drawing conclusions. And hence a sure
advantage results; for he either confirms a truth before too slightly
supported, or discovers an error, and receives instruction from the
objector.

In this view I consider the objections and remarks you sent me, and
thank you for them sincerely; but, how much soever my inclinations lead
me to philosophical inquiries, I am so engaged in business, public and
private, that those more pleasing pursuits are frequently interrupted,
and the chain of thought necessary to be closely continued in such
disquisitions is so broken and disjointed, that it is with difficulty I
satisfy myself in any of them; and I am now not much nearer a conclusion
in this matter of the spout than when I first read your letter.

Yet, hoping we may, in time, sift out the truth between us, I will send
you my present thoughts, with some observations on your reasons on the
accounts in the _Transactions_, and on other relations I have met with.
Perhaps, while I am writing, some new light may strike me, for I shall
now be obliged to consider the subject with a little more attention.

I agree with you, that, by means of a vacuum in a whirlwind, water
cannot be supposed to rise in large masses to the region of the clouds;
for the pressure of the surrounding atmosphere could not force it up in
a continued body or column to a much greater height than thirty feet.
But if there really is a vacuum in the centre, or near the axis of
whirlwinds, then, I think, water may rise in such vacuum to that height,
or to a less height, as the vacuum may be less perfect.

I had not read Stuart's account, in the _Transactions_, for many years
before the receipt of your letter, and had quite forgot it; but now, on
viewing his draughts and considering his descriptions, I think they seem
to favour _my hypothesis_; for he describes and draws columns of water
of various heights, terminating abruptly at the top, exactly as water
would do when forced up by the pressure of the atmosphere into an
exhausted tube.

I must, however, no longer call it _my hypothesis_, since I find Stuart
had the same thought, though somewhat obscurely expressed, where he says
"he imagines this phenomenon may be solved by suction (improperly so
called) or rather pulsion, as in the application of a cupping-glass to
the flesh, the air being first voided by the kindled flax."

In my paper, I supposed a whirlwind and a spout to be the same thing,
and to proceed from the same cause; the only difference between them
being that the one passes over the land, the other over water. I find
also in the _Transactions_, that M. de la Pryme was of the same opinion;
for he there describes two spouts, as he calls them, which were seen at
different times, at Hatfield, in Yorkshire, whose appearances in the air
were the same with those of the spouts at sea, and effects the same with
those of real whirlwinds.

Whirlwinds have generally a progressive as well as a circular motion; so
had what is called the spout at Topsham, as described in the
Philosophical Transactions, which also appears, by its effects
described, to have been a real whirlwind. Water-spouts have, also, a
progressive motion; this is sometimes greater and sometimes less; in
some violent, in others barely perceivable. The whirlwind at Warrington
continued long in Acrement Close.

Whirlwinds generally arise after calms and great heats: the same is
observed of water-spouts, which are, therefore, most frequent in the
warm latitudes. The spout that happened in cold weather, in the Downs,
described by Mr. Gordon in the _Transactions_, was, for that reason,
thought extraordinary; but he remarks withal, that the weather, though
cold when the spout appeared, was soon after much colder: as we find it
commonly less warm after a whirlwind.

You agree that the wind blows every way towards a whirlwind from a large
space round. An intelligent whaleman of Nantucket informed me that three
of their vessels, which were out in search of whales, happening to be
becalmed, lay in sight of each other, at about a league distance, if I
remember right, nearly forming a triangle: after some time, a
water-spout appeared near the middle of the triangle, when a brisk
breeze of wind sprung up, and every vessel made sail; and then it
appeared to them all, by the setting of the sails and the course each
vessel stood, that the spout was to the leeward of every one of them;
and they all declared it to have been so when they happened afterward in
company, and came to confer about it. So that in this particular,
likewise, whirlwinds and water-spouts agree.

But if that which appears a water-spout at sea does sometimes, in its
progressive motion, meet with and pass over land, and there produce all
the phenomena and effects of a whirlwind, it should thence seem still
more evident that a whirlwind and a spout are the same. I send you,
herewith, a letter from an ingenious physician of my acquaintance, which
gives one instance of this, that fell within his observation.

A fluid, moving from all points horizontally towards a centre, must, at
that centre, either ascend or descend. Water being in a tub, if a hole
be opened in the middle of the bottom, will flow from all sides to the
centre, and there descend in a whirl. But air flowing on and near the
surface of land or water, from all sides towards a centre, must at that
centre ascend, the land or water hindering its descent.

If these concentring currents of air be in the upper region, they may,
indeed, descend in the spout or whirlwind; but then, when the united
current reached the earth or water, it would spread, and, probably, blow
every way from the centre. There may be whirlwinds of both kinds, but
from the commonly observed effects I suspect the rising one to be the
most common: when the upper air descends, it is, perhaps, in a greater
body, extending wider, as in our thunder-gusts, and without much
whirling; and, when air descends in a spout or whirlwind, I should
rather expect it would press the roof of a house _inward_, or force _in_
the tiles, shingles, or thatch, force a boat down into the water, or a
piece of timber into the earth, than that it would lift them up and
carry them away.

It has so happened that I have not met with any accounts of spouts that
certainly descended; I suspect they are not frequent. Please to
communicate those you mention. The apparent dropping of a pipe from the
clouds towards the earth or sea, I will endeavour to explain hereafter.

The augmentation of the cloud, which, as I am informed, is generally,
if not always the case, during a spout, seems to show an ascent rather
than a descent of the matter of which such cloud is composed; for a
descending spout, one would expect, should diminish a cloud. I own,
however, that cold air, descending, may, by condensing the vapours in a
lower region, form and increase clouds; which, I think, is generally the
case in our common thunder-gusts, and, therefore, do not lay great
stress on this argument.

Whirlwinds and spouts are not always, though most commonly, in the
daytime. The terrible whirlwind which damaged a great part of Rome, June
11, 1749, happened in the night of that day. The same was supposed to
have been first a spout, for it is said to be beyond doubt that it
gathered in the neighbouring sea, as it could be tracked from Ostia to
Rome. I find this in Père Boschovich's account of it, as abridged in the
Monthly Review for December, 1750.

In that account, the whirlwind is said to have appeared as a very black,
long, and lofty cloud, discoverable, notwithstanding the darkness of the
night, by its continually lightning or emitting flashes on all sides,
pushing along with a surprising swiftness, and within three or four feet
of the ground. Its general effects on houses were stripping off the
roofs, blowing away chimneys, breaking doors and windows, _forcing up
the floors, and unpaving the rooms_ (some of these effects seem to agree
well with a supposed vacuum in the centre of the whirlwind), and the
very rafters of the houses were broken and dispersed, and even hurled
against houses at a considerable distance, &c.

It seems, by an expression of Père Boschovich's, as if the wind blew
from all sides towards the whirlwind; for, having carefully observed its
effects, he concludes of all whirlwinds, "that their motion is circular,
and their action attractive."

He observes on a number of histories of whirlwinds, &c., "that a common
effect of them is to carry up into the air tiles, stones, and animals
themselves, which happen to be in their course, and all kinds of bodies
unexceptionably, throwing them to a considerable distance with great
impetuosity."

Such effects seem to show a rising current of air.

I will endeavour to explain my conceptions of this matter by figures,
representing a plan and an elevation of a spout or whirlwind.

I would only first beg to be allowed two or three positions mentioned in
my former paper.

1. That the lower region of air is often more heated, and so more
rarefied, than the upper; consequently, specifically lighter. The
coldness of the upper region is manifested by the hail which sometimes
falls from it in a hot day.

2. That heated air may be very moist, and yet the moisture so equally
diffused and rarefied as not to be visible till colder air mixes with
it, when it condenses and becomes visible. Thus our breath, invisible in
summer, becomes visible in winter.

Now let us suppose a tract of land or sea, of perhaps sixty miles
square, unscreened by clouds and unfanned by winds during great part of
a summer's day, or, it may be, for several days successively, till it is
violently heated, together with the lower region of air in contact with
it, so that the said lower air becomes specifically lighter than the
superincumbent higher region of the atmosphere in which the clouds
commonly float: let us suppose, also, that the air surrounding this
tract has not been so much heated during those days, and, therefore,
remains heavier. The consequence of this should be, as I conceive, that
the heated lighter air, being pressed on all sides, must ascend, and the
heavier descend; and as this rising cannot be in all parts, or the whole
area of the tract at once, for that would leave too extensive a vacuum,
the rising will begin precisely in that column that happens to be the
lightest or most rarefied; and the warm air will flow horizontally from
all points to this column, where the several currents meeting, and
joining to rise, a whirl is naturally formed, in the same manner as a
whirl is formed in the tub of water, by the descending fluid flowing
from all sides of the tub to the hole in the centre.

And as the several currents arrive at this central rising column with a
considerable degree of horizontal motion, they cannot suddenly change it
to a vertical motion; therefore, as they gradually, in approaching the
whirl, decline from right curved or circular lines, so, having joined
the whirl, they _ascend_ by a spiral motion, in the same manner as the
water _descends_ spirally through the hole in the tub before mentioned.

Lastly, as the lower air, and nearest the surface, is most rarefied by
the heat of the sun, that air is most acted on by the pressure of the
surrounding cold and heavy air, which is to take its place;
consequently, its motion towards the whirl is swiftest, and so the force
of the lower part of the whirl or trump strongest, and the centrifugal
force of its particles greatest; and hence the vacuum round the axis of
the whirl should be greatest near the earth or sea, and be gradually
diminished as it approaches the region of the clouds, till it ends in a
point, as at P, _Fig. 2. in the plate_, forming a long and sharp cone.

In figure 1, which is a plan or groundplat of a whirlwind, the circle V
represents the central vacuum.

Between _a a a a_ and _b b b b_ I suppose a body of air, condensed
strongly by the pressure of the currents moving towards it from all
sides without, and by its centrifugal force from within, moving round
with prodigious swiftness (having, as it were, the entire momenta
of all the currents ----> ----> united in itself), and with
a power equal to its swiftness and density.

It is this whirling body of air between _a a a a_ and _b b b b_ that
rises spirally; by its force it tears buildings to pieces, twists up
great trees by the roots, &c., and, by its spiral motion, raises the
fragments so high, till the pressure of the surrounding and approaching
currents diminishing, can no longer confine them to the circle, or their
own centrifugal force increasing, grows too strong for such pressure,
when they fly off in tangent lines, as stones out of a sling, and fall
on all sides and at great distances.

If it happens at sea, the water under and between _a a a a_ and _b b b
b_ will be violently agitated and driven about, and parts of it raised
with the spiral current, and thrown about so as to form a bushlike
appearance.

This circle is of various diameters, sometimes very large. If the vacuum
passes over water, the water may rise in it in a body or column to near
the height of thirty-two feet. If it passes over houses, it may burst
their windows or walls outward, pluck off the roofs, and pluck up the
floors, by the sudden rarefaction of the air contained within such
buildings; the outward pressure of the atmosphere being suddenly taken
off; so the stopped bottle of air bursts under the exhausted receiver of
the airpump.

Fig. 2 is to represent the elevation of a water-spout, wherein I suppose
P P P to be the cone, at first a vacuum, till W W, the rising column of
water, has filled so much of it. S S S S, the spiral whirl of air,
surrounding the vacuum, and continued higher in a close column after the
vacuum ends in the point P, till it reaches the cool region of the air.
B B, the bush described by Stuart, surrounding the foot of the column of
water.

Now I suppose this whirl of air will at first be as invisible as the
air itself, though reaching, in reality, from the water to the region of
cool air, in which our low summer thunder-clouds commonly float: but
presently it will become visible at its extremities. _At its lower end_,
by the agitation of the water under the whirling part of the circle,
between P and S, forming Stuart's bush, and by the swelling and rising
of the water in the beginning vacuum, which is at first a small, low,
broad cone, whose top gradually rises and sharpens, as the force of the
whirl increases. _At its upper end_ it becomes visible by the warm air
brought up to the cooler region, where its moisture begins to be
condensed into thick vapour by the cold, and is seen first at A, the
highest part, which, being now cooled, condenses what rises next at B,
which condenses that at C, and that condenses what is rising at D, the
cold operating by the contact of the vapours faster in a right line
downward than the vapours can climb in a spiral line upward; they climb,
however, and as by continual addition they grow denser, and,
consequently, their centrifugal force greater, and being risen above the
concentrating currents that compose the whirl, fly off, spread, and form
a cloud.

It seems easy to conceive how, by this successive condensation from
above, the spout appears to drop or descend from the cloud, though the
materials of which it is composed are all the while ascending.

The condensation of the moisture contained in so great a quantity of
warm air as may be supposed to rise in a short time in this prodigiously
rapid whirl, is perhaps sufficient to form a great extent of cloud,
though the spout should be over land, as those at Hatfield; and if the
land happens not to be very dusty, perhaps the lower part of the spout
will scarce become visible at all; though the upper, or what is commonly
called the descending part, be very distinctly seen.

The same may happen at sea, in case the whirl is not violent enough to
make a high vacuum, and raise the column, &c. In such case, the upper
part A B C D only will be visible, and the bush, perhaps, below.

But if the whirl be strong, and there be much dust on the land, and the
column W W be raised from the water, then the lower part becomes visible
and sometimes even united to the upper part. For the dust may be carried
up in the spiral whirl till it reach the region where the vapour is
condensed, and rise with that even to the clouds: and the friction of
the whirling air on the sides of the column W W, may detach great
quantities of its water, break it into drops, and carry them up in the
spiral whirl, mixed with the air; the heavier drops may indeed fly off,
and fall in a shower round the spout; but much of it will be broken into
vapour, yet visible; and thus, in both cases, by dust at land and by
water at sea, the whole tube may be darkened and rendered visible.

As the whirl weakens, the tube may (in appearance) separate in the
middle; the column of water subsiding, and the superior condensed part
drawing up to the cloud. Yet still the tube or whirl of air may remain
entire, the middle only becoming invisible, as not containing visible
matter.

Dr. Stuart says, "It was observable of all the spouts he saw, but more
perceptible of the great one, that, towards the end, it began to appear
like a hollow canal, only black in the borders, but white in the middle;
and though at first it was altogether black and opaque, yet now one
could very distinctly perceive the seawater to fly up along the middle
of this canal, as smoke up a chimney."

And Dr. Mather, describing a whirlwind, says, "A thick dark, small cloud
arose, with a pillar of light in it, of about eight or ten feet
diameter, and passed along the ground in a tract not wider than a
street, horribly tearing up trees by the roots, blowing them up in the
air life feathers, and throwing up stones of great weight to a
considerable height in the air," &c.

These accounts, the one of water-spouts, the other of a whirlwind, seem
in this particular to agree; what one gentleman describes as a tube,
black in the borders and white in the middle, the other calls a black
cloud, with a pillar of light in it; the latter expression has only a
little more of the _marvellous_, but the thing is the same; and it seems
not very difficult to understand. When Dr. Stuart's spouts were full
charged, that is, when the whirling pipe of air was filled between _a a
a a_ and _b b b b_, fig. 1, with quantities of drops, and vapour torn
off from the column W W, fig. 2, the whole was rendered so dark as that
it could not be seen through, nor the spiral ascending motion
discovered; but when the quantity ascending lessened, the pipe became
more transparent, and the ascending motion visible. For, by inspection
of the figure given in the opposite page, respecting a section of our
spout, with the vacuum in the middle, it is plain that if we look at
such a hollow pipe in the direction of the arrows, and suppose opaque
particles to be equally mixed in the space between the two circular
lines, both the part between the arrows _a_ and _b_, and that between
the arrows _c_ and _d_, will appear much darker than that between _b_
and _c_, as there must be many more of those opaque particles in the
line of vision across the sides than across the middle. It is thus that
a hair in a microscope evidently appears to be a pipe, the sides showing
darker than the middle. Dr. Mather's whirl was probably filled with
dust, the sides were very dark, but the vacuum within rendering the
middle more transparent, he calls it a pillar of light.

[Illustration:

Fig. 1
Fig. 2
Fig. 3]

It was in this more transparent part, between _b_ and _c_, that Stuart
could see the spiral motion of the vapours, whose lines on the nearest
and farthest side of the transparent part crossing each other,
represented smoke ascending in a chimney; for the quantity being still
too great in the line of sight through the sides of the tube, the motion
could not be discovered there, and so they represented the solid sides
of the chimney.

When the vapours reach in the pipe from the clouds near to the earth, it
is no wonder now to those who understand electricity, that flashes of
lightning should descend by the spout, as in that of Rome.

But you object, if water may be thus carried into the clouds, why have
we not salt rains? The objection is strong and reasonable, and I know
not whether I can answer it to your satisfaction. I never heard but of
one salt rain, and that was where a spout passed pretty near a ship; so
I suppose it to be only the drops thrown off from the spout by the
centrifugal force (as the birds were at Hatfield), when they had been
carried so high as to be above, or to be too strongly centrifugal for
the pressure of the concurring winds surrounding it: and, indeed, I
believe there can be no other kind of salt rain; for it has pleased the
goodness of God so to order it, that the particles of air will not
attract the particles of salt, though they strongly attract water.

Hence, though all metals, even gold, may be united with air and rendered
volatile, salt remains fixed in the fire, and no heat can force it up to
any considerable height, or oblige the air to hold it. Hence, when salt
rises, as it will a little way, into air with water, there is instantly
a separation made; the particles of water adhere to the air, and the
particles of salt fall down again, as if repelled and forced off from
the water by some power in the air; or, as some metals, dissolved in a
proper _menstruum_, will quit the solvent when other matter approaches,
and adhere to that, so the water quits the salt and embraces the air;
but air will not embrace the salt and quit the water, otherwise our
rains would indeed be salt, and every tree and plant on the face of the
earth be destroyed, with all the animals that depend on them for
subsistence. He who hath proportioned and given proper quantities to all
things, was not unmindful of this. Let us adore Him with praise and
thanksgiving.

By some accounts of seamen, it seems the column of water W W sometimes
falls suddenly; and if it be, as some say, fifteen or twenty yards
diameter, it must fall with great force, and they may well fear for
their ships. By one account, in the _Transactions_, of a spout that fell
at Colne, in Lancashire, one would think the column is sometimes lifted
off from the water and carried over land, and there let fall in a body;
but this, I suppose, happens rarely.

Stuart describes his spouts as appearing no bigger than a mast, and
sometimes less; but they were seen at a league and a half distance.

I think I formerly read in Dampier, or some other voyager, that a spout,
in its progressive motion, went over a ship becalmed on the coast of
Guinea, and first threw her down on one side, carrying away her
foremast, then suddenly whipped her up, and threw her down on the other
side, carrying away her mizen-mast, and the whole was over in an
instant. I suppose the first mischief was done by the foreside of the
whirl, the latter by the hinderside, their motion being contrary.

I suppose a whirlwind or spout may be stationary when the concurring
winds are equal; but if unequal, the whirl acquires a progressive motion
in the direction of the strongest pressure.

When the wind that gives the progressive motion becomes stronger below
than above, or above than below, the spout will be bent, and, the cause
ceasing, straighten again.

Your queries towards the end of your paper appear judicious and worth
considering. At present I am not furnished with facts sufficient to
make any pertinent answer to them, and this paper has already a
sufficient quantity of conjecture.

Your manner of accommodating the accounts to your hypothesis of
descending spouts is, I own, in ingenious, and perhaps that hypothesis
may be true. I will consider it farther, but, as yet, I am not satisfied
with it, though hereafter I may be.

Here you have my method of accounting for the principal phenomena, which
I submit to your candid examination.

And as I now seem to have almost written a book instead of a letter, you
will think it high time I should conclude; which I beg leave to do, with
assuring you that I am, &c.,

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_Alexander Small, London._

ON THE NORTHEAST STORMS IN NORTH AMERICA.

May 12, 1760.

Agreeable to your request, I send you my reasons for thinking that our
northeast storms in North America begin first, in point of time, in the
southwest parts; that is to say, the air in Georgia, the farthest of our
colonies to the southwest, begins to move southwesterly before the air
of Carolina, which is the next colony northeastward; the air of Carolina
has the same motion before the air of Virginia, which lies still more
northeastward; and so on northeasterly through Pennsylvania, New-York,
New-England, &c., quite to Newfoundland.

These northeast storms are generally very violent, continue sometimes
two or three days, and often do considerable damage in the harbours
along the coast. They are attended with thick clouds and rain.

What first gave me this idea was the following circumstance. About
twenty years ago, a few more or less, I cannot from my memory be
certain, we were to have an eclipse of the moon at Philadelphia, on a
Friday evening, about nine o'clock. I intended to observe it, but was
prevented by a northeast storm, which came on about seven, with thick
clouds as usual, that quite obscured the whole hemisphere. Yet when the
post brought us the Boston newspaper, giving an account of the effects
of the same storm in those parts, I found the beginning of the eclipse
had been well observed there, though Boston lies N. E. of Philadelphia
about four hundred miles. This puzzled me, because the storm began with
us so soon as to prevent any observation; and being a northeast storm, I
imagined it must have begun rather sooner in places farther to the
northeastward than it did at Philadelphia. I therefore mentioned it in a
letter to my brother, who lived at Boston; and he informed me the storm
did not begin with them till near eleven o'clock, so that they had a
good observation of the eclipse; and upon comparing all the other
accounts I received from the several colonies of the time of beginning
of the same storm, and, since that, of other storms of the same kind, I
found the beginning to be always later the farther northeastward. I have
not my notes with me here in England, and cannot, from memory, say the
proportion of time to distance, but I think it is about an hour to every
hundred miles.

From thence I formed an idea of the cause of these storms, which I would
explain by a familiar instance or two. Suppose a long canal of water
stopped at the end by a gate. The water is quite at rest till the gate
is open, then it begins to move out through the gate; the water next the
gate is first in motion, and moves towards the gate; the water next to
that first water moves next, and so on successively, till the water at
the head of the canal is in motion, which is last of all. In this case
all the water moves, indeed, towards the gate, but the successive times
of beginning motion are the contrary way, viz., from the gate backward
to the head of the canal. Again, suppose the air in a chamber at rest,
no current through the room till you make a fire in the chimney.
Immediately the air in the chimney, being rarefied by the fire, rises;
the air next the chimney flows in to supply its place, moving towards
the chimney; and, in consequence, the rest of the air successively,
quite back to the door. Thus, to produce our northeast storms, I suppose
some great heat and rarefaction of the air in or about the Gulf of
Mexico; the air, thence rising, has its place supplied by the next more
northern, cooler, and, therefore, denser and heavier air; that, being in
motion, is followed by the next more northern air, &c., in a successive
current, to which current our coast and inland ridge of mountains give
the direction of northeast, as they lie N. E. and S. W.

This I offer only as an hypothesis to account for this particular fact;
and perhaps, on farther examination, a better and truer may be found. I
do not suppose all storms generated in the same manner. Our northwest
thunder-gusts in America, I know, are not; but of them I have written my
opinion fully in a paper which you have seen.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Dr. Lining, at Charleston._

ON COLD PRODUCED BY EVAPORATION.

New-York, April 14, 1757.

It is a long time since I had the pleasure of a line from you; and,
indeed, the troubles of our country, with the hurry of business I have
been engaged in on that account, have made me so bad a correspondent,
that I ought not to expect punctuality in others.

But, being about to embark for England, I could not quit the continent
without paying my respects to you, and, at the same time, taking leave
to introduce to your acquaintance a gentleman of learning and merit,
Colonel Henry Bouquet, who does me the favour to present you this
letter, and with whom I am sure you will be much pleased.

Professor Simpson, of Glasgow, lately communicated to me some curious
experiments of a physician of his acquaintance, by which it appeared
that an extraordinary degree of cold, even to freezing, might be
produced by evaporation. I have not had leisure to repeat and examine
more than the first and easiest of them, viz.: wet the ball of a
thermometer by a feather dipped in spirits of wine which has been kept
in the same room, and has, of course, the same degree of heat or cold.
The mercury sinks presently three or four degrees, and the quicker if,
during the evaporation, you blow on the ball with bellows; a second
wetting and blowing, when the mercury is down, carries it yet lower. I
think I did not get it lower than five or six degrees from where it
naturally stood, which was at that time sixty. But it is said that a
vessel of water, being placed in another somewhat larger, containing
spirit, in such a manner that the vessel of water is surrounded with the
spirit, and both placed under the receiver of an airpump; on exhausting
the air, the spirit, evaporating, leaves such a degree of cold as to
freeze the water, though the thermometer in the open air stands many
degrees above the freezing point.

I know not how this phenomena is to be accounted for, but it gives me
occasion to mention some loose notions relating to heat and cold, which
I have for some time entertained, but not yet reduced into any form.
Allowing common fire, as well as electrical, to be a fluid capable of
permeating other bodies and seeking an equilibrium, I imagine some
bodies are better fitted by nature to be conductors of that fluid than
others; and that, generally, those which are the best conductors of the
electric fluid are also the best conductors of this; and _è contra_.

Thus a body which is a good conductor of fire readily receives it into
its substance, and conducts it through the whole to all the parts, as
metals and water do; and if two bodies, both good conductors, one
heated, the other in its common state, are brought into contact with
each other, the body which has most fire readily communicates of it to
that which had least, and that which had least readily receives it, till
an equilibrium is produced. Thus, if you take a dollar between your
fingers with one hand, and a piece of wood of the same dimensions with
the other, and bring both at the same time to the flame of a candle, you
will find yourself obliged to drop the dollar before you drop the wood,
because it conducts the heat of the candle sooner to your flesh. Thus,
if a silver teapot had a handle of the same metal, it would conduct the
heat from the water to the hand, and become too hot to be used; we
therefore give to a metal teapot a handle of wood, which is not so good
a conductor as metal. But a China or stone teapot, being in some degree
of the nature of glass, which is not a good conductor of heat, may have
a handle of the same stuff. Thus, also, a damp, moist air shall make a
man more sensible of cold, or chill him more than a dry air that is
colder, because a moist air is fitter to receive and conduct away the
heat of his body. This fluid, entering bodies in great quantity, first
expands them, by separating their parts a little; afterward, by farther
separating their parts, it renders solids fluid, and at length
dissipates their parts in air. Take this fluid from melted lead or from
water, the parts cohere again; the first grows solid, the latter becomes
ice: and this is sooner done by the means of good conductors. Thus, if
you take, as I have done, a square bar of lead, four inches long and
one inch thick, together with three pieces of wood planed to the same
dimensions, and lay them on a smooth board, fixed so as not to be easily
separated or moved, and pour into the cavity they form as much melted
lead as will fill it, you will see the melted lead chill and become firm
on the side next the leaden bar some time before it chills on the other
three sides in contact with the wooden bars, though, before the lead was
poured in, they might all be supposed to have the same degree of heat or
coldness, as they had been exposed in the same room to the same air. You
will likewise observe, that the leaden bar, as it has cooled the melted
lead more than the wooden bars have done, so it is itself more heated by
the melted lead. There is a certain quantity of this fluid, called fire,
in every living human body; which fluid being in due proportion, keeps
the parts of the flesh and blood at such a just distance from each
other, as that the flesh and nerves are supple, and the blood fit for
circulation. If part of this due proportion of fire be conducted away,
by means of a contact with other bodies, as air, water, or metals, the
parts of our skin and flesh that come into such contact first draw more
near together than is agreeable, and give that sensation which we call
cold; and if too much be conveyed away, the body stiffens, the blood
ceases to flow, and death ensues. On the other hand, if too much of this
fluid be communicated to the flesh, the parts are separated too far, and
pain ensues, as when they are separated by a pin or lancet. The
sensation that the separation by fire occasions we call heat or burning.
My desk on which I now write, and the lock of my desk, are both exposed
to the same temperature of the air, and have, therefore, the same degree
of heat or cold: yet if I lay my hand successively on the wood and on
the metal, the latter feels much the coldest; not that it is really so,
but, being a better conductor, it more readily than the wood takes away
and draws into itself the fire that was in my skin. Accordingly, if I
lay one hand part on the lock and part on the wood, and after it had
laid on some time, I feel both parts with my other hand, I find the part
that has been in contact with the lock very sensibly colder to the touch
than the part that lay on the wood. How a living animal obtains its
quantity of this fluid, called fire, is a curious question. I have shown
that some bodies (as metals) have a power of attracting it stronger than
others; and I have sometimes suspected that a living body had some power
of attracting out of the air, or other bodies, the heat it wanted. Thus
metals hammered, or repeatedly bent, grow hot in the bent or hammered
part. But when I consider that air, in contact with the body, cools it;
that the surrounding air is rather heated by its contact with the body;
that every breath of cooler air drawn in carries off part of the body's
heat when it passes out again; that, therefore, there must be in the
body a fund for producing it, or otherwise the animal would soon grow
cold; I have been rather inclined to think that the fluid _fire_, as
well as the fluid _air_, is attracted by plants in their growth, and
becomes consolidated with the other materials of which they are formed,
and makes a great part of their substance; that, when they come to be
digested, and to suffer in the vessels a kind of fermentation, part of
the fire, as well as part of the air, recovers its fluid, active state
again, and diffuses itself in the body, digesting and separating it;
that the fire, so reproduced by digestion and separation, continually
leaving the body, its place is supplied by fresh quantities, arising
from the continual separation; that whatever quickens the motion of the
fluids in an animal quickens the separation, and reproduces more of the
fire, as exercise; that all the fire emitted by wood and other
combustibles, when burning, existed in them before in a solid state,
being only discovered when separating; that some fossils, as sulphur,
seacoal, &c., contain a great deal of solid fire; and that, in short,
what escapes and is dissipated in the burning of bodies, besides water
and earth, is generally the air and fire that before made parts of the
solid. Thus I imagine that animal heat arises by or from a kind of
fermentation in the juices of the body, in the same manner as heat
arises in the liquors preparing for distillation, wherein there is a
separation of the spirituous from the watery and earthy parts. And it is
remarkable, that the liquor in a distiller's vat, when in its best and
highest state of fermentation, as I have been informed, has the same
degree of heat with the human body: that is, about 94 or 96.

Thus, as by a constant supply of fuel in a chimney you keep a warm room,
so by a constant supply of food in the stomach you keep a warm body;
only where little exercise is used the heat may possibly be conducted
away too fast; in which case such materials are to be used for clothing
and bedding, against the effects of an immediate contact of the air, as
are in themselves bad conductors of heat, and, consequently, prevent its
being communicated through their substance to the air. Hence what is
called _warmth_ in wool, and its preference on that account to linen,
wool not being so good a conductor; and hence all the natural coverings
of animals to keep them warm are such as retain and confine the natural
heat in the body by being bad conductors, such as wool, hair, feathers,
and the silk by which the silkworm, in its tender embryo state, is first
clothed. Clothing, thus considered, does not make a man warm by _giving_
warmth, but by _preventing_ the too quick dissipation of the heat
produced in his body, and so occasioning an accumulation.

There is another curious question I will just venture to touch upon,
viz., Whence arises the sudden extraordinary degree of cold,
perceptible on mixing some chymical liquors, and even on mixing salt and
snow, where the composition appears colder than the coldest of the
ingredients? I have never seen the chymical mixtures made, but salt and
snow I have often mixed myself, and am fully satisfied that the
composition feels much colder to the touch, and lowers the mercury in
the thermometer more than either ingredient would do separately. I
suppose, with others, that cold is nothing more than the absence of heat
or fire. Now if the quantity of fire before contained or diffused in the
snow and salt was expelled in the uniting of the two matters, it must be
driven away either through the air or the vessel containing them. If it
is driven off through the air, it must warm the air, and a thermometer
held over the mixture, without touching it, would discover the heat by
the raising of the mercury, as it must and always does in warm air.

This, indeed, I have not tried, but I should guess it would rather be
driven off through the vessel, especially if the vessel be metal, as
being a better conductor than air; and so one should find the basin
warmer after such mixture. But, on the contrary, the vessel grows cold,
and even water, in which the vessel is sometimes placed for the
experiment, freezes into hard ice on the basin. Now I know not how to
account for this, otherwise than by supposing that the composition is a
better conductor of fire than the ingredients separately, and, like the
lock compared with the wood, has a stronger power of attracting fire,
and does accordingly attract it suddenly from the fingers, or a
thermometer put into it, from the basin that contains it, and from the
water in contact with the outside of the basin; so that the fingers have
the sensation of extreme cold by being deprived of much of their natural
fire; the thermometer sinks by having part of its fire drawn out of the
mercury; the basin grows colder to the touch, as, by having its fire
drawn into the mixture, it is become more capable of drawing and
receiving it from the hand; and, through the basin, the water loses its
fire that kept it fluid; so it becomes ice. One would expect that, from
all this attracted acquisition of fire to the composition, it should
become warmer; and, in fact, the snow and salt dissolve at the same time
into water, without freezing.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_Peter Franklin, Newport, Rhode Island._

ON THE SALTNESS OF SEAWATER.

London, May 7, 1760.

* * It has, indeed, as you observe, been the opinion of some very great
naturalists, that the sea is salt only from the dissolution of mineral
or rock-salt which its waters happen to meet with. But this opinion
takes it for granted that all water was originally fresh, of which we
can have no proof. I own I am inclined to a different opinion, and
rather think all the water on this globe was originally salt, and that
the fresh water we find in springs and rivers is the produce of
distillation. The sun raises the vapours from the sea, which form
clouds, and fall in rain upon the land, and springs and rivers are
formed of that rain. As to the rock-salt found in mines, I conceive
that, instead of communicating its saltness to the sea, it is itself
drawn from the sea, and that, of course, the sea is now fresher than it
was originally. This is only another effect of nature's distillery, and
might be performed various ways.

It is evident, from the quantities of seashells, and the bones and teeth
of fishes found in high lands, that the sea has formerly covered them.
Then either the sea has been higher than it now is, and has fallen away
from those high lands, or they have been lower than they are, and were
lifted up out of the water to their present height by some internal
mighty force, such as we still feel some remains of when whole
continents are moved by earthquakes In either case it may be supposed
that large hollows, or valleys among hills, might be left filled with
seawater, which, evaporating, and the fluid part drying away in a course
of years, would leave the salt covering the bottom; and that salt,
coming afterward to be covered with earth from the neighbouring hills,
could only be found by digging through that earth. Or, as we know from
their effects that there are deep, fiery caverns under the earth, and
even under the sea, if at any time the sea leaks into any of them, the
fluid parts of the water must evaporate from that heat, and pass off
through some volcano, while the salt remains, and, by degrees and
continual accretion, becomes a great mass. Thus the cavern may at length
be filled, and the volcano connected with it cease burning, as many, it
is said, have done; and future miners, penetrating such cavern, find
what we call a salt-mine. This is a fancy I had on visiting the
salt-mines at Northwich with my son. I send you a piece of the rock-salt
which he brought up with him out of the mine.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Miss Stephenson._

SALT WATER RENDERED FRESH BY DISTILLATION.--METHOD OF RELIEVING THIRST
BY SEAWATER.

Craven-street, August 10, 1761.

We are to set out this week for Holland, where we may possibly spend a
month, but purpose to be at home again before the coronation. I could
not go without taking leave of you by a line at least when I am so many
letters in your debt.

In yours of May 19, which I have before me, you speak of the ease with
which salt water may be made fresh by distillation, supposing it to be,
as I had said, that in evaporation the air would take up water, but not
the salt that was mixed with it. It is true that distilled seawater will
not be salt, but there are other disagreeable qualities that rise with
the water, in distillation; which, indeed, several besides Dr. Hales
have endeavoured by some means to prevent, but as yet their methods have
not been brought much into use.

I have a singular opinion on this subject, which I will venture to
communicate to you, though I doubt you will rank it among my whims. It
is certain that the skin has _imbibing_ as well as _discharging_ pores;
witness the effects of a blistering-plaster, &c. I have read that a man,
hired by a physician to stand, by way of experiment, in the open air
naked during a moist night, weighed near three pounds heavier in the
morning. I have often observed myself, that however thirsty I may have
been before going into the water to swim, I am never long so in the
water. These imbibing pores, however, are very fine; perhaps fine
enough, in filtering, to separate salt from water; for though I have
soaked (by swimming, when a boy) several hours in the day, for several
days successively, in salt water, I never found my blood and juices
salted by that means, so as to make me thirsty or feel a salt taste in
my mouth; and it is remarkable that the flesh of seafish, though bred in
salt water, is not salt. Hence I imagined that if people at sea,
distressed by thirst, when their fresh water is unfortunately spent,
would make bathing-tubs of their empty water-casks, and, filling them
with seawater, sit in them an hour or two each day, they might be
greatly relieved. Perhaps keeping their clothes constantly wet might
have an almost equal effect; and this without danger of catching cold.
Men do not catch cold by wet clothes at sea. Damp, but not wet linen,
may possibly give colds; but no one catches cold by bathing, and no
clothes can be wetter than water itself. Why damp clothes should then
occasion colds, is a curious question, the discussion of which I reserve
for a future letter or some future conversation.

Adieu, my little philosopher. Present my respectful compliments to the
good ladies your aunts, and to Miss Pitt, and believe me ever

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To the same._

TENDENCY OF RIVERS TO THE SEA.--EFFECTS OF THE SUN'S RAYS ON CLOTHES OF
DIFFERENT COLOURS.

September 20, 1761.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

It is, as you observed in our late conversation, a very general opinion,
that _all rivers run into the sea_, or deposite their waters there. 'Tis
a kind of audacity to call such general opinions in question, and may
subject one to censure. But we must hazard something in what we think
the cause of truth: and if we propose our objections modestly, we shall,
though mistaken, deserve a censure less severe than when we are both
mistaken and insolent.

That some rivers run into the sea is beyond a doubt: such, for instance,
are the Amazons, and, I think, the Oronoko and the Mississippi. The
proof is, that their waters are fresh quite to the sea, and out to some
distance from the land. Our question is, whether the fresh waters of
those rivers, whose beds are filled with salt water to a considerable
distance up from the sea (as the Thames, the Delaware, and the rivers
that communicate with Chesapeake Bay in Virginia), do ever arrive at the
sea? And as I suspect they do not, I am now to acquaint you with my
reasons; or, if they are not allowed to be reasons, my conceptions at
least of this matter.

The common supply of rivers is from springs, which draw their origin
from rain that has soaked into the earth. The union of a number of
springs forms a river. The waters, as they run exposed to the sun, air,
and wind, are continually evaporating. Hence, in travelling, one may
often see where a river runs, by a long bluish mist over it, though we
are at such a distance as not to see the river itself. The quantity of
this evaporation is greater or less, in proportion to the surface
exposed by the same quantity of water to those causes of evaporation.
While the river runs in a narrow, confined channel in the upper hilly
country, only a small surface is exposed; a greater as the river widens.
Now if a river ends in a lake, as some do, whereby its waters are spread
so wide as that the evaporation is equal to the sum of all its springs,
that lake will never overflow; and if, instead of ending in a lake, it
was drawn into greater length as a river, so as to expose a surface
equal in the whole to that lake, the evaporation would be equal, and
such river would end as a canal; when the ignorant might suppose, as
they actually do in such cases, that the river loses itself by running
under ground, whereas, in truth, it has run up into the air.

Now, how many rivers that are open to the sea widen much before they
arrive at it, not merely by the additional waters they receive, but by
having their course stopped by the opposing flood-tide; by being turned
back twice in twenty-four hours, and by finding broader beds in the low
flat countries to dilate themselves in; hence the evaporation of the
fresh water is proportionably increased, so that in some rivers it may
equal the springs of supply. In such cases the salt water comes up the
river, and meets the fresh in that part where, if there were a wall or
bank of earth across, from side to side, the river would form a lake,
fuller indeed at sometimes than at others, according to the seasons, but
whose evaporation would, one time with another, be equal to its supply.

When the communication between the two kinds of water is open, this
supposed wall of separation may be conceived as a moveable one, which is
not only pushed some miles higher up the river by every flood-tide from
the sea, and carried down again as far by every tide of ebb, but which
has even this space of vibration removed nearer to the sea in wet
seasons, when the springs and brooks in the upper country are augmented
by the falling rains, so as to swell the river, and farther from the sea
in dry seasons.

Within a few miles above and below this moveable line of separation, the
different waters mix a little, partly by their motion to and fro, and
partly from the greater gravity of the salt water, which inclines it to
run under the fresh, while the fresh water, being lighter, runs over the
salt.

Cast your eye on the map of North America, and observe the Bay of
Chesapeake, in Virginia, mentioned above; you will see, communicating
with it by their mouths, the great rivers Susquehanna, Potomac,
Rappahannoc, York, and James, besides a number of smaller streams, each
as big as the Thames. It has been proposed by philosophical writers,
that to compute how much water any river discharges into the sea in a
given time, we should measure its depth and swiftness at any part above
the tide: as for the Thames, at Kingston or Windsor. But can one
imagine, that if all the water of those vast rivers went to the sea, it
would not first have pushed the salt water out of that narrow-mouthed
bay, and filled it with fresh? The Susquehanna alone would seem to be
sufficient for this, if it were not for the loss by evaporation. And
yet that bay is salt quite up to Annapolis.

As to our other subject, the different degrees of heat imbibed from the
sun's rays by cloths of different colours, since I cannot find the notes
of my experiment to send you, I must give it as well as I can from
memory.

But first let me mention an experiment you may easily make yourself.
Walk but a quarter of an hour in your garden when the sun shines, with a
part of your dress white and a part black; then apply your hand to them
alternately, and you will find a very great difference in their warmth.
The black will be quite hot to the touch, the white still cool.

Another. Try to fire the paper with a burning glass. If it is white, you
will not easily burn it; but if you bring the focus to a black spot, or
upon letters written or printed, the paper will immediately be on fire
under the letters.

Thus fullers and dyers find black cloths, of equal thickness with white
ones, and hung out equally wet, dry in the sun much sooner than the
white, being more readily heated by the sun's rays. It is the same
before a fire, the heat of which sooner penetrates black stockings than
white ones, and so is apt sooner to burn a man's shins. Also beer much
sooner warms in a black mug set before the fire than in a white one, or
a bright silver tankard.

My experiment was this. I took a number of little pieces of broadcloth
from a tailor's pattern card, of various colours. There were black, deep
blue, lighter blue, green, purple, red, yellow, white, and other colours
or shades of colours. I laid them all out upon the snow in a bright
sunshiny morning. In a few hours (I cannot now be exact as to the time)
the black, being warmed most by the sun, was sunk so low as to be below
the stroke of the sun's rays; the dark blue almost as low, the lighter
blue not quite so much as the dark, the other colours less as they were
lighter, and the quite white remained on the surface of the snow, not
having entered it at all.

What signifies philosophy that does not apply to some use? May we not
learn from hence that black clothes are not so fit to wear in a hot
sunny climate or season as white ones; because in such clothes the body
is more heated by the sun when we walk abroad, and are, at the same
time, heated by the exercise, which double heat is apt to bring on
putrid dangerous fevers? That soldiers and seamen, who must march and
labour in the sun, should in the East or West Indies have a uniform of
white? That summer hats for men or women should be white, as repelling
that heat which gives headaches to many, and to some the fatal stroke
that the French call the _coup de soleil_? That the ladies' summer hats,
however, should be lined with black, as not reverberating on their faces
those rays which are reflected upward from the earth or water? That the
putting a white cap of paper or linen _within_ the crown of a black hat,
as some do, will not keep out the heat, though it would if placed
_without_? That fruit-walls, being blacked, may receive so much heat
from the sun in the daytime as to continue warm in some degree through
the night, and thereby preserve the fruit from frosts or forward its
growth? with sundry other particulars of less or greater importance,
that will occur from time to time to attentive minds.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To the same._

ON THE EFFECT OF AIR ON THE BAROMETER. AND THE BENEFITS DERIVED FROM THE
STUDY OF INSECTS.

Craven-street, June 11, 1760.

'Tis a very sensible question you ask, how the air can affect the
barometer, when its opening appears covered with wood? If, indeed, it
was so closely covered as to admit of no communication of the outward
air to the surface of the mercury, the change of weight in the air could
not possibly affect it. But the least crevice is sufficient for the
purpose; a pinhole will do the business. And if you could look behind
the frame to which your barometer is fixed, you would certainly find
some small opening.

There are, indeed, some barometers in which the body of the mercury in
the lower end is contained in a close leather bag, and so the air cannot
come into immediate contact with the mercury; yet the same effect is
produced. For the leather, being flexible, when, the bag is pressed by
any additional weight of air, it contracts, and the mercury is forced up
into the tube; when the air becomes lighter and its pressure less, the
weight of the mercury prevails, and it descends again into the bag.

Your observations on what you have lately read concerning insects is
very just and solid. Superficial minds are apt to despise those who make
that part of the creation their study as mere triflers; but certainly
the world has been much obliged to them. Under the care and management
of man, the labours of the little silkworm afford employment and
subsistence to thousands of families, and become an immense article of
commerce. The bee, too, yields us its delicious honey, and its wax
useful to a multitude of purposes. Another insect, it is said, produces
the cochineal, from whence we have our rich scarlet dye. The usefulness
of the cantharides, or Spanish flies, in medicine, is known to all, and
thousands owe their lives to that knowledge. By human industry and
observation, other properties of other insects may possibly be hereafter
discovered, and of equal utility. A thorough acquaintance with the
nature of these little creatures may also enable mankind to prevent the
increase of such as are noxious, or secure us against the mischiefs they
occasion. These things doubtless your books make mention of: I can only
add a particular late instance, which I had from a Swedish gentleman of
good credit. In the green timber intended for shipbuilding at the king's
yard in that country, a kind of worms was found, which every year became
more numerous and more pernicious, so that the ships were greatly
damaged before they came into use. The king sent Linnæus, the great
naturalist, from Stockholm, to inquire into the affair, and see if the
mischief was capable of any remedy. He found, on examination, that the
worm was produced from a small egg, deposited in the little roughnesses
on the surface of the wood, by a particular kind of fly or beetle; from
whence the worm, as soon as it was hatched, began to eat into the
substance of the wood, and, after some time, came out again a fly of the
parent kind, and so the species increased. The season in which the fly
laid its eggs Linnæus knew to be about a fortnight (I think) in the
month of May, and at no other time in the year. He therefore advised,
that some days before that season, all the green timber should be thrown
into the water, and kept under water till the season was over. Which
being done by the king's order, the flies, missing the usual nests,
could not increase, and the species was either destroyed or went
elsewhere: and the wood was effectually preserved, for after the first
year it became too dry and hard for their purpose.

There is, however, a prudent moderation to be used in studies of this
kind. The knowledge of nature may be ornamental, and it may be useful;
but if, to attain an eminence in that, we neglect the knowledge and
practice of essential duties, we deserve reprehension. For there is no
rank in natural knowledge of equal dignity and importance with that of
being a good parent, a good child, a good husband or wife, a good
neighbour or friend, a good subject or citizen, that is, in short, a
good Christian. Nicholas Gimcrack, therefore, who neglected the care of
his family to pursue butterflies, was a just object of ridicule, and we
must give him up as fair game to the satirist.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Dr. Joseph Priestley._

EFFECT OF VEGETATION ON NOXIOUS AIR.

* * That the vegetable creation should restore the air which is spoiled
by the animal part of it, looks like a rational system, and seems to be
of a piece with the rest. Thus fire purifies water all the world over.
It purifies it by distillation, when it raises it in vapours, and lets
it fall in rain; and farther still by filtration, when, keeping it
fluid, it suffers that rain to percolate the earth. We knew before that
putrid animal substances were converted into sweet vegetables when mixed
with the earth and applied as manure; and now, it seems, that the same
putrid substances, mixed with the air, have a similar effect. The
strong, thriving state of your mint, in putrid air, seems to show that
the air is mended by taking something from it, and not by adding to it.
I hope this will give some check to the rage of destroying trees that
grow near houses, which has accompanied our late improvements in
gardening, from an opinion of their being unwholesome. I am certain,
from long observation, that there is nothing unhealthy in the air of
woods; for we Americans have everywhere our country habitations in the
midst of woods, and no people on earth enjoy better health or are more
prolific.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Dr. John Pringle._

ON THE DIFFERENCE OF NAVIGATION IN SHOAL AND DEEP WATER.

Craven-street, May 10, 1768.

You may remember, that when we were travelling together in Holland, you
remarked that the trackschuyt in one of the stages went slower than
usual, and inquired of the boatman what might be the reason; who
answered, that it had been a dry season, and the water in the canal was
low. On being asked if it was so low as that the boat touched the muddy
bottom, he said no, not so low as that, but so low as to make it harder
for the horse to draw the boat. We neither of us, at first, could
conceive, that if there was water enough for the boat to swim clear of
the bottom, its being deeper would make any difference; but as the man
affirmed it seriously as a thing well known among them, and as the
punctuality required in their stages was likely to make such difference,
if any there were, more readily observed by them than by other watermen
who did not pass so regularly and constantly backward and forward in the
same track, I began to apprehend there might be something in it, and
attempted to account for it from this consideration, that the boat, in
proceeding along the canal, must in every boat's length of her course
move out of her way a body of water equal in bulk to the room her bottom
took up in the water; that the water so moved must pass on each side of
her and under her bottom to get behind her; that if the passage under
her bottom was straitened by the shallows, more of that water must pass
by her sides, and with a swifter motion, which would retard her, as
moving the contrary way; or, that the water becoming lower behind the
boat than before, she was pressed back by the weight of its difference
in height, and her motion retarded by having that weight constantly to
overcome. But as it is often lost time to attempt accounting for
uncertain facts, I determined to make an experiment of this when I
should have convenient time and opportunity.

After our return to England, as often as I happened to be on the Thames,
I inquired of our watermen whether they were sensible of any difference
in rowing over shallow or deep water. I found them all agreeing in the
fact, that there was a very great difference, but they differed widely
in expressing the quantity of the difference; some supposing it was
equal to a mile in six, others to a mile in three, &c. As I did not
recollect to have met with any mention of this matter in our
philosophical books, and conceiving that if the difference should really
be great, it might be an object of consideration in the many projects
now on foot for digging new navigable canals in this island, I lately
put my design of making the experiment in execution in the following
manner.

I provided a trough of planed boards fourteen feet long, six inches
wide, and six inches deep in the clear, filled with water within half an
inch of the edge, to represent a canal. I had a loose board, of nearly
the same length and breadth, that, being put into the water, might be
sunk to any depth, and fixed by little wedges where I would choose to
have it stay, in order to make different depths of water, leaving the
surface at the same height with regard to the sides of the trough. I had
a little boat in form of a lighter or boat of burden, six inches long,
two inches and a quarter wide, and one inch and a quarter deep. When
swimming, it drew one inch water. To give motion to the boat, I fixed
one end of a long silk thread to its bow, just even with the water's
edge; the other end passed over a well-made brass pully, of about an
inch diameter, turning freely on a small axis; and a shilling was the
weight. Then placing the boat at one end of the trough, the weight
would draw it through the water to the other.

Not having a watch that shows seconds, in order to measure the time
taken up by the boat in passing from end to end, I counted as fast as I
could count to ten repeatedly, keeping an account of the number of tens
on my fingers. And as much as possible to correct any little
inequalities in my counting, I repeated the experiment a number of times
at each depth of water, that I might take the medium. And the following
are the results:

Water
1-1/2 inches deep. 2 inches. 4-1/2 inches.
1st exp. 100 94 79
2d " 104 93 78
3d " 104 91 77
4th " 106 87 79
5th " 100 88 79
6th " 99 86 80
7th " 100 90 79
8th " 100 88 81
--- --- ---
813 717 632
--- --- ---
Medium 101 Medium 89 Medium 79

I made many other experiments, but the above are those in which I was
most exact; and they serve sufficiently to show that the difference is
considerable. Between the deepest and shallowest it appears to be
somewhat more than one fifth. So that, supposing large canals, and
boats, and depths of water to bear the same proportions, and that four
men or horses would draw a boat in deep water four leagues in four
hours, it would require five to draw the same boat in the same time as
far in shallow water, or four would require five hours.

Whether this difference is of consequence enough to justify a greater
expense in deepening canals, is a matter of calculation, which our
ingenious engineers in that way will readily determine.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Oliver Neale._

ON THE ART OF SWIMMING.

I cannot be of opinion with you, that it is too late in life for you to
learn to swim. The river near the bottom of your garden affords a most
convenient place for the purpose. And as your new employment requires
your being often on the water, of which you have such a dread, I think
you would do well to make the trial; nothing being so likely to remove
those apprehensions as the consciousness of an ability to swim to the
shore in case of an accident, or of supporting yourself in the water
till a boat could come to take you up.

I do not know how far corks or bladders may be useful in learning to
swim, having never seen much trial of them. Possibly they may be of
service in supporting the body while you are learning what is called the
stroke, or that manner of drawing in and striking out the hands and feet
that is necessary to produce progressive motion. But you will be no
swimmer till you can place some confidence in the power of the water to
support you; I would therefore advise the acquiring that confidence in
the first place, especially as I have known several who, by a little of
the practice necessary for that purpose, have insensibly acquired the
stroke, taught, as it were, by nature.

The practice I mean is this. Choosing a place where the water deepens
gradually, walk coolly into it till it is up to your breast; then turn
round, your face to the shore, and throw an egg into the water between
you and the shore. It will sink to the bottom, and be easily seen there,
as your water is clear. It must lie in water so deep as that you cannot
reach it to take it up but by diving for it. To encourage yourself in
order to do this, reflect that your progress will be from deeper to
shallower water, and that at any time you may, by bringing your legs
under you and standing on the bottom, raise your head far above the
water. Then plunge under it with your eyes open, throwing yourself
towards the egg, and endeavouring, by the action of your hands and feet
against the water, to get forward till within reach of it. In this
attempt you will find that the water buoys you up against your
inclination; that it is not so easy a thing to sink as you imagined;
that you cannot, but by active force, get down to the egg. Thus you feel
the power of the water to support you, and learn to confide in that
power; while your endeavours to overcome it and to reach the egg teach
you the manner of acting on the water with your feet and hands, which
action is afterward used in swimming to support your head higher above
water, or to go forward through it.

I would the more earnestly press you to the trial of this method,
because, though I think I satisfied you that your body is lighter than
water, and that you might float in it a long time, with your mouth free
for breathing, if you would put yourself in a proper posture, and would
be still and forbear struggling, yet, till you have obtained this
experimental confidence in the water, I cannot depend on your having the
necessary presence of mind to recollect that posture and directions I
gave you relating to it. The surprise may put all out of your mind. For
though we value ourselves on being reasonable, knowing creatures, reason
and knowledge seem, on such occasions, to be of little use to us; and
the brutes, to whom we allow scarce a glimmering of either, appear to
have the advantage of us.

I will, however, take this opportunity of repeating those particulars to
you which I mentioned in our last conversation, as, by perusing them at
your leisure, you may possibly imprint them so in your memory as, on
occasion, to be of some use to you.

1. That though the legs, arms, and head of a human body, being solid
parts, are specifically something heavier than fresh water, yet the
trunk, particularly the upper part, from its hollowness, is so much
lighter than water, as that the whole of the body, taken together, is
too light to sink wholly under water, but some part will remain above
until the lungs become filled with water, which happens from drawing
water into them instead of air, when a person, in the fright, attempts
breathing while the mouth and nostrils are under water.

2. That the legs and arms are specifically lighter than salt water, and
will be supported by it, so that a human body would not sink in salt
water, though the lungs were filled as above, but from the greater
specific gravity of the head.

3. That, therefore, a person throwing himself on his back in salt water,
and extending his arms, may easily lie so as to keep his mouth and
nostrils free for breathing; and, by a small motion of his hands, may
prevent turning if he should perceive any tendency to it.

4. That in fresh water, if a man throws himself on his back near the
surface, he cannot long continue in that situation but by proper action
of his hands on the water. If he uses no such action, the legs and lower
part of the body will gradually sink till he comes into an upright
position, in which he will continue suspended, the hollow of the breast
keeping the head uppermost.

5. But if, in this erect position, the head is kept upright above the
shoulders, as when we stand on the ground, the immersion will, by the
weight of that part of the head that is out of water, reach above the
mouth and nostrils, perhaps a little above the eyes, so that a man
cannot long remain suspended in water with his head in that position.

6. The body continuing suspended as before, and upright, if the head be
leaned quite back, so that the face look upward, all the back part of
the head being then under water, and its weight, consequently, in a
great measure supported by it, the face will remain above water quite
free for breathing, will rise an inch higher every inspiration, and sink
as much every expiration, but never so low that the water may come over
the mouth.

7. If, therefore, a person unacquainted with swimming, and falling
accidentally into the water, could have presence of mind sufficient to
avoid struggling and plunging, and to let the body take this natural
position, he might continue long safe from drowning till perhaps help
would come. For as to the clothes, their additional weight, while
immersed, is very inconsiderable, the water supporting it, though, when
he comes out of the water, he would find them very heavy indeed.

But, as I said before, I would not advise you or any one to depend on
having this presence of mind on such an occasion, but learn fairly to
swim, as I wish all men were taught to do in their youth; they would, on
many occurrences, be the safer for having that skill, and on many more
the happier, as freer from painful apprehensions of danger, to say
nothing of the enjoyment in so delightful and wholesome an exercise.
Soldiers particularly should, methinks, all be taught to swim; it might
be of frequent use either in surprising an enemy or saving themselves.
And if I had now boys to educate, I should prefer those schools (other
things being equal) where an opportunity was afforded for acquiring so
advantageous an art, which, once learned, is never forgotten.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To Miss Stephenson._

METHOD OF CONTRACTING CHIMNEYS.--MODESTY IN DISPUTATION.

Craven-street, Saturday evening, past 10.

The question you ask me is a very sensible one, and I shall be glad if I
can give you a satisfactory answer. There are two ways of contracting a
chimney; one by contracting the opening _before_ the fire, the other by
contracting the funnel _above_ the fire. If the funnel above the fire is
left open in its full dimensions, and the opening before the fire is
contracted, then the coals, I imagine, will burn faster, because more
air is directed through the fire, and in a stronger stream; that air
which before passed over it and on each side of it, now passing
_through_ it. This is seen in narrow stove chimneys, when a
_sacheverell_ or blower is used, which still more contracts the narrow
opening. But if the funnel only _above_ the fire is contracted, then, as
a less stream of air is passing up the chimney, less must pass through
the fire, and, consequently, it should seem that the consuming of the
coals would rather be checked than augmented by such contraction. And
this will also be the case when both the opening _before_ the fire and
the funnel _above_ the fire are contracted, provided the funnel above
the fire is more contracted in proportion than the opening before the
fire. So, you see, I think you had the best of the argument; and as you,
notwithstanding, gave it up in complaisance to the company, I think you
had also the best of the dispute. There are few, though convinced, that
know how to give up even an error they have been once engaged in
maintaining; there is, therefore, the more merit in dropping a contest
where one thinks one's self right; it is at least respectful to those we
converse with. And, indeed, all our knowledge is so imperfect, and we
are, from a thousand causes, so perpetually subject to mistake and
error, that positiveness can scarce ever become even the most knowing;
and modesty in advancing any opinion, however plain and true we may
suppose it, is always decent, and generally more likely to procure
assent. Pope's rule,

To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence,

is therefore a good one; and if I had ever seen in your conversation the
least deviation from it, I should earnestly recommend it to your
observation. I am, &c.,

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

_To M. Dubourg._

OBSERVATIONS ON THE PREVAILING DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH.

* * Your observations on the causes of death, and the experiments which
you propose for recalling to life those who appear to be killed by
lightning, demonstrate equally your sagacity and your humanity. It
appears that the doctrines of life and death, in general, are yet but
little understood.

A toad buried in sand will live, it is said, till the sand becomes
petrified: and then, being enclosed in the stone, it may still live for
we know not how many ages. The facts which are cited in support of this
opinion are too numerous and too circumstantial not to deserve a certain
degree of credit. As we are accustomed to see all the animals with which
we are acquainted eat and drink, it appears to us difficult to conceive
how a toad can be supported in such a dungeon: but if we reflect that
the necessity of nourishment, which animals experience in their ordinary
state, proceeds from the continual waste of their substance by
perspiration, it will appear less incredible that some animals, in a
torpid state, perspiring less because they use no exercise, should have
less need of aliment; and that others, which are covered with scales or
shells which stop perspiration, such as land and sea turtles, serpents,
and some species of fish, should be able to subsist a considerable time
without any nourishment whatever. A plant, with its flowers, fades and
dies immediately if exposed to the air without having its root immersed
in a humid soil, from which it may draw a sufficient quantity of
moisture to supply that which exhales from its substance and is carried
off continually by the air. Perhaps, however, if it were buried in
quicksilver, it might preserve, for a considerable space of time, its
vegetable life, its smell, and colour. If this be the case, it might
prove a commodious method of transporting from distant countries those
delicate plants which are unable to sustain the inclemency of the
weather at sea, and which require particular care and attention. I have
seen an instance of common flies preserved in a manner somewhat similar.
They had been drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the time when it
was bottled in Virginia to be sent hither (to London). At the opening of
one of the bottles, at the house of a friend where I then was, three
drowned flies fell into the first glass that was filled. Having heard it
remarked that drowned flies were capable of being revived by the rays of
the sun, I proposed making the experiment upon these: they were
therefore exposed to the sun upon a sieve, which had been employed to
strain them out of the wine. In less than three hours, two of them began
by degrees to recover life. They commenced by some convulsive motions of
the thighs, and at length they raised themselves upon their legs, wiped
their eyes with their fore-feet, beat and brushed their wings with their
hind-feet, and soon after began to fly, finding themselves in Old
England, without knowing how they came thither. The third continued
lifeless till sunset, when, losing all hopes of him, he was thrown away.

I wish it were possible, from this instance, to invent a method of
embalming drowned persons, in such a manner that they may be recalled to
life at any period, however distant; for, having a very ardent desire to
see and observe the state of America a hundred years hence, I should
prefer to any ordinary death the being immersed in a cask of Madeira
wine, with a few friends, till that time, to be then recalled to life by
the solar warmth of my dear country! But since, in all probability, we
live in an age too early and too near the infancy of science to hope to
see such an art brought in our time to its perfection, I must, for the
present, content myself with the treat which you are so kind as to
promise me, of the resuscitation of a fowl or a turkey-cock.

B. FRANKLIN.

* * * * *

LORD BROUGHAM'S PORTRAIT OF DR. FRANKLIN.

The following admirable sketch of the character of Franklin is from a
new work by Lord Brougham, recently published in London, entitled
"Statesmen in the time of George III." It has not been published in this
country:

"One of the most remarkable men, certainly, of our times as a
politician, or of any age as a philosopher, was Franklin, who also
stands alone in combining together these two characters, the greatest
that man can sustain, and in this, that having borne the first part in
enlarging science by one of the greatest discoveries ever made, he bore
the second part in founding one of the greatest empires.

"In this truly great man everything seemed to concur that goes towards
the constitution of exalted merit. First, he was the architect of his
own fortune. Born in the humblest station, he raised himself, by his
talents and his industry, first, to the place in society which may be
attained with the help only of ordinary abilities, great application,
and good luck; but next, to the loftier heights which a daring and happy
genius alone can scale; and the poor printer's boy, who at one period of
his life had no covering to shelter his head from the dews of night,
rent in twain the proud dominion of England, and lived to be the
ambassador of a commonwealth which he had formed, at the court of the
haughty monarchs of France who had been his allies.

"Then he had been tried by prosperity as well as adverse fortune, and
had passed unhurt through the perils of both. No ordinary apprentice, no
commonplace journeyman, ever laid the foundation of his independence in
habits of industry and temperance more deep than he did, whose genius
was afterward to rank him with the Galileos and the Newtons of the Old
World. No patrician born to shine in courts, or assist at the councils
of monarchs, ever bore his honours in a lofty station more easily, or
was less spoiled by the enjoyment of them, than this common workman did
when negotiating with royal representatives, or caressed by all the
beauty and fashion of the most brilliant court in Europe.

"Again, he was self-taught in all he knew. His hours of study were
stolen from those of sleep and of meals, or gained by some ingenious
contrivance for reading while the work of his daily calling went on.
Assisted by none of the helps which affluence tenders to the studies of
the rich, he had to supply the place of tutors by redoubled diligence,
and of commentaries by repeated perusal. Nay, the possession of books
was to be obtained by copying what the art he himself exercised
furnished easily to others.

"Next, the circumstances under which others succumb, he made to yield
and bend to his own purposes; a successful leader of a revolt that ended
in complete triumph, after appearing desperate for years; a great
discoverer in philosophy, without the ordinary helps to knowledge; a
writer famed for his chaste style, without a classical education; a
skilful negotiator, though never bred to politics; ending as a
favourite, nay, a pattern of fashion, when the guest of frivolous
courts, the life which he had begun in garrets and in workshops.

"Lastly, combinations of faculties, in others deemed impossible,
appeared easy and natural in him. The philosopher, delighting in
speculation, was also eminently a man of action. Ingenious reasoning,
refined and subtile consultation, were in him combined with prompt
resolution and inflexible firmness of purpose. To a lively fancy he
joined a learned, a deep reflection; his original and inventive genius
stooped to the convenient alliance of the most ordinary prudence in
every-day affairs; the mind that soared above the clouds, and was
conversant with the loftiest of human contemplations, disdained not to
make proverbs and feign parables for the guidance of apprenticed youths
and servile maidens; and the hands that sketched a free constitution for
a whole continent, or drew down the lightning from heaven, easily and
cheerfully lent themselves to simplify the apparatus by which truths
were to be illustrated or discoveries pursued.

"His discoveries were made with hardly any apparatus at all; and if, at
any time, he had been led to employ instruments of a somewhat less
ordinary description, he never seemed satisfied until he had, as it
were, afterward translated the process, by resolving the problem with
such simple machinery that you might say he had done it wholly unaided
by apparatus. The experiments by which the identity of lightning and
electricity was demonstrated, were made with a sheet of brown paper, a
bit of twine, a silk thread, and an iron key.

"Upon the integrity of this man, whether in public or in private life,
there rests no stain. Strictly honest and even scrupulously punctual in
all his dealings, he preserved in the highest fortune that regularity
which he had practised as well as inculcated in the lowest.

"In domestic life he was faultless, and in the intercourse of society
delightful. There was a constant good humour and a playful wit, easy and
of high relish, without any ambition to shine, the natural fruit of his
lively fancy, his solid, natural good sense, and his cheerful temper,
that gave his conversation an unspeakable charm, and alike suited every
circle from the humblest to the most elevated. With all his strong
opinions, so often solemnly declared, so imperishably recorded in his
deeds, he retained a tolerance for those who differed with him which
could not be surpassed in men whose principles hang so loosely about
them as to be taken up for a convenient cloak, and laid down when found
to impede their progress. In his family he was everything that worth,
warm affections, and sound prudence could contribute, to make a man both
useful and amiable, respected and beloved.

"In religion he would be reckoned by many a latitudinarian, yet it is
certain that his mind was imbued with a deep sense of the Divine
perfections, a constant impression of our accountable nature; and a
lively hope of future enjoyment. Accordingly, his deathbed, the test of
both faith and works, was easy and placid, resigned and devout, and
indicated at once an unflinching retrospect of the past, and a
comfortable assurance of the future.

"If we turn from the truly great man whom we have been contemplating to
his celebrated contemporary in the Old World (Frederic the Great), who
only affected the philosophy that Franklin possessed, and employed his
talents for civil and military affairs in extinguishing that
independence which Franklin's life was consecrated to establish, the
contrast is marvellous indeed between the monarch and the printer."

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

The transcriber made these changes to the text to correct obvious
errors:

1. p. 29 howsover --> howsoever
2. p. 98 impaartial --> impartial
3. p. 123 soilders --> soldiers
4. p. 129 Phladelphia -->Philadelphia
5. p. 146 virtuons --> virtuous
6. p. 179 sentment --> sentiment
7. p. 179 passons --> (left as published)
8. p. 183 vents --> events
9. p. 287 papar --> paper

***