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*
AMERICAN WRITERS SERIES
*
HARRY HAYDEN CLARK
General Editor
*
* AMERICAN WRITERS SERIES *
Volumes of representative selections, prepared by American scholars under
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Volumes now ready are starred.
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Pen drawing by Kerr Eby, after an
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
ÆT. 56
REPRESENTATIVE SELECTIONS, WITH
INTRODUCTION, BIBLIOGRAPHY, AND NOTES
BY
Frank Luther Mott
Director, School of Journalism
University of Iowa
AND
Chester E. Jorgenson
Instructor in English
University of Iowa
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
New York · Cincinnati · Chicago
Boston · Atlanta
Copyright, 1936, by
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
All rights reserved
Mott and Jorgenson's Franklin
W.P.I.
Made in U.S.A.
[v]
PREFACE
Benjamin Franklin's reputation in America has been singularly
distorted by the neglect of his works other than his
Autobiography and his most utilitarian aphorisms. If America
has contented herself with appraising him as "the earliest incarnation
of 'David Harum,'" as "the first high-priest of the
religion of efficiency," as "the first Rotarian," it may be that
this aspect of Franklin is all that an America plagued by growing
pains, by peopling and mechanizing three thousand miles
of frontier, has been able to see. That facet of Franklin's mind
and mien which allowed Carlyle to describe him as "the Father
of all Yankees" was appreciated by Sinclair Lewis's George F.
Babbitt: "Once in a while I just naturally sit back and size up
this Solid American Citizen, with a whale of a lot of satisfaction."
But this is not the Franklin of "imperturbable common-sense"
honored by Matthew Arnold as "the very incarnation of
sanity and clear-sense, a man the most considerable ... whom
America has yet produced." Nor is this the Franklin who
emerges from his collected works (and the opinions of his
notable contemporaries) as an economist, political theorist,
educator, journalist, scientific deist, and disinterested scientist.
If he wrote little that is narrowly belles-lettres, he need not be
ashamed of his voluminous correspondence, in an age which
saw the fruition of the epistolary art. The Franklin found in
his collected and uncollected writings is, as the following
Introduction may suggest, not the Franklin who too commonly
is synchronized exclusively with the wisdom and wit of Poor
Richard.
Since the present interpretation of the growth of Franklin's
mind, with stress upon its essential unity in the light of scientific
deism, tempered by his debt to Puritanism, classicism, and neoclassicism,[vi]
may seem somewhat novel, the editors have felt it
desirable to document their interpretation with considerable
fullness. It is hoped that the reader will withhold judgment as
to the validity of this interpretation until the documentary
evidence has been fully considered in its genetic significance,
and that he will feel able to incline to other interpretations only
in proportion as they can be equally supported by other evidence.
The present interpretation is also supported by the
Selections following—the fullest collection hitherto available
in one volume—which offer, the editors believe, the essential
materials for a reasonable acquaintance with the growth of
Franklin's mind, from youth to old age, in its comprehensive
interests—educational, literary, journalistic, economic, political,
scientific, humanitarian, and religious.
With the exception of the selections from the Autobiography,
the works are arranged in approximate chronological order,
hence inviting a necessarily genetic study of Franklin's mind.
The Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain,
never before printed in an edition of Franklin's works or in a
book of selections, is here printed from the London edition of
1725, retaining his peculiarities of italics, capitalization, and
punctuation. Attention is also drawn to the photographically
reproduced complete text of Poor Richard Improved (1753),
graciously furnished by Mr. William Smith Mason. The Way
to Wealth is from an exact reprint made by Mr. Mason, and
with his permission here reproduced. One of the editors is
grateful for the privilege of consulting Mr. Mason's magnificent
collection of Franklin correspondence (original MSS), especially
the Franklin-Galloway and Franklin-Jonathan Shipley
(Bishop of St. Asaph) unpublished correspondence. With Mr.
Mason's generous permission the editors reproduce fragments
of this correspondence in the Introduction.
The bulk of the selections have been printed from the latest,
standard edition, The Writings of Benjamin Franklin, collected[vii]
and edited with a Life and Introduction by Albert Henry
Smyth (10 vols., 1905-1907). For permission to use this material
the editors are grateful to The Macmillan Company,
publishers. The editors are indebted to Dr. Max Farrand,
Director of the Henry E. Huntington Library, for permission
to reprint part of Franklin's MS version of the Autobiography.
Chester E. Jorgenson is preparing an analysis and interpretation
of Franklin's brand of scientific deism, its sources and
relation to his economic, political, and literary theories and
practice. Fragments of this projected study are included, especially
in Section VII of the following Introduction. For the
past two years Mr. Jorgenson has enjoyed the kindness and
generosity of Mr. William Smith Mason, and has incurred an
indebtedness which cannot be expressed adequately in print.
The work of the editors has been vastly eased by Beata
Prochnow Jorgenson's assistance in typing, proofreading, et
cetera. They are extremely grateful to Professor Harry Hayden
Clark for incisive suggestions and valuable editorial assistance.
F. L. M.
C. E. J.
[viii]
[ix]
CONTENTS
Introduction
Chronological Table, cxlii
Selected Bibliography
Selections
- From the Autobiography, 3
- Dogood Papers, No. I (1722), 96
- Dogood Papers, No. IV (1722), 98
- Dogood Papers, No. V (1722), 102
- Dogood Papers, No. VII (1722), 105
- Dogood Papers, No. XII (1722), 109
- Editorial Preface to the New England Courant (1723), 111
- A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain (1725), 114
- Rules for a Club Established for Mutual Improvement (1728), 128
- Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion (1728), 130
- The Busy-Body, No. 1 (1728/9), 137
- The Busy-Body, No. 2 (1728/9), 139
- The Busy-Body, No. 3 (1728/9), 141
- The Busy-Body, No. 4 (1728/9), 145
- Preface to the Pennsylvania Gazette (1729), 150
- A Dialogue between Philocles and Horatio (1730), 152
- A Second Dialogue between Philocles and Horatio (1730), 156
- A Witch Trial at Mount Holly (1730), 161
- An Apology for Printers (1731), 163
- Preface to Poor Richard (1733), 169
- A Meditation on a Quart Mugg (1733), 170
- Preface to Poor Richard (1734), 172[x]
- Preface to Poor Richard (1735), 174
- Hints for Those That Would Be Rich (1736), 176
- To Josiah Franklin (April 13, 1738), 177
- Preface to Poor Richard (1739), 179
- A Proposal for Promoting Useful Knowledge among the British Plantations in America (1743), 180
- Shavers and Trimmers (1743), 183
- To the Publick (1743), 186
- Preface to Logan's Translation of "Cato Major" (1743/4), 187
- To John Franklin, at Boston (March 10, 1745), 188
- Preface to Poor Richard (1746), 189
- The Speech of Polly Baker (1747), 190
- Preface to Poor Richard (1747), 193
- To Peter Collinson (August 14, 1747), 194
- Preface to Poor Richard Improved (1748), 195
- Advice to a Young Tradesman (1748), 196
- To George Whitefield (July 6, 1749), 198
- Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in Pensilvania (1749), 199
- Idea of the English School (1751), 206
- To Cadwallader Colden Esq., at New York (1751), 213
- Exporting of Felons to the Colonies (1751), 214
- Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind, Peopling of Countries, Etc. (1751), 216
- To Peter Collinson (October 19, 1752), 223
- Poor Richard Improved (1753)—facsimile reproduction, 225
- To Joseph Huey (June 6, 1753), 261
- Three Letters to Governor Shirley (1754), 263
- To Miss Catherine Ray, at Block Island (March 4, 1755), 270
- To Peter Collinson (August 25, 1755), 272
- To Miss Catherine Ray (September 11, 1755), 274
- To Miss Catherine Ray (October 16, 1755), 277
- To Mrs. Jane Mecom (February 12, 1756), 278
- To Miss E. Hubbard (February 23, 1756), 278
- To Rev. George Whitefield (July 2, 1756), 279
- The Way to Wealth (1758), 280
- To Hugh Roberts (September 16, 1758), 289
- To Mrs. Jane Mecom (September 16, 1758), 291
- To Lord Kames (May 3, 1760), 293
- To Miss Mary Stevenson (June 11, 1760), 295
- To Mrs. Deborah Franklin (June 27, 1760), 298
- To Jared Ingersoll (December 11, 1762), 300
- To Miss Mary Stevenson (March 25, 1763), 301
- To John Fothergill, M.D. (March 14, 1764), 304
- To Sarah Franklin (November 8, 1764), 307
- From A Narrative of the Late Massacres in Lancaster County (1764), 308[xi]
- To the Editor of a Newspaper (May 20, 1765), 315
- To Lord Kames (June 2, 1765), 318
- Letter Concerning the Gratitude of America (January 6, 1766), 321
- To Lord Kames (April 11, 1767), 325
- To Miss Mary Stevenson (September 14, 1767), 330
- On the Labouring Poor (1768), 336
- To Dupont de Nemours (July 28, 1768), 340
- To John Alleyne (August 9, 1768), 341
- To the Printer of the London Chronicle (August 18, 1768), 343
- Positions to be Examined, Concerning National Wealth (1769), 345
- To Miss Mary Stevenson (September 2, 1769), 347
- To Joseph Priestley (September 19, 1772), 348
- To Miss Georgiana Shipley (September 26, 1772), 349
- To Peter Franklin (undated), 351
- On the Price of Corn, and Management of the Poor (undated), 355
- An Edict by the King of Prussia (1773), 358
- Rules by Which a Great Empire May Be Reduced to a Small One (1773), 363
- To William Franklin (October 6, 1773), 371
- Preface to "An Abridgment of the Book of Common Prayer" (1773), 374
- A Parable against Persecution, 379
- A Parable on Brotherly Love, 380
- To William Strahan (July 5, 1775), 381
- To Joseph Priestley (July 7, 1775), 382
- To a Friend in England (October 3, 1775), 383
- To Lord Howe (July 30, 1776), 384
- The Sale of the Hessians (1777), 387
- Model of a Letter of Recommendation (April 2, 1777), 389
- To —— (October 4, 1777), 390
- To David Hartley (October 14, 1777), 390
- A Dialogue between Britain, France, Spain, Holland, Saxony and America, 394
- To Charles de Weissenstein (July 1, 1778), 397
- The Ephemera (1778), 402
- To Richard Bache (June 2, 1779), 404
- Morals of Chess (1779), 406
- To Benjamin Vaughan (November 9, 1779), 410
- The Whistle (1779), 412
- The Lord's Prayer (1779?), 414
- The Levée (1779?), 417
- Proposed New Version of the Bible (1779?), 419
- To Joseph Priestley (February 8, 1780), 420
- To George Washington (March 5, 1780), 421
- To Miss Georgiana Shipley (October 8, 1780), 422[xii]
- To Richard Price (October 9, 1780), 423
- Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout (1780), 424
- The Handsome and Deformed Leg (1780?), 430
- To Miss Georgiana Shipley (undated), 432
- To David Hartley (December 15, 1781), 434
- Supplement to the Boston Independent Chronicle (1782), 434
- To John Thornton (May 8, 1782), 443
- To Joseph Priestley (June 7, 1782), 443
- To Jonathan Shipley (June 10, 1782), 445
- To James Hutton (July 7, 1782), 447
- To Sir Joseph Banks (September 9, 1782), 448
- Information to Those Who Would Remove to America (1782?), 449
- Apologue (1783?), 458
- To Sir Joseph Banks (July 27, 1783), 459
- To Mrs. Sarah Bache (January 26, 1784), 460
- An Economical Project (1784?), 466
- To Samuel Mather (May 12, 1784), 471
- To Benjamin Vaughan (July 26, 1784), 472
- To George Whately (May 23, 1785), 479
- To John Bard and Mrs. Bard (November 14, 1785), 481
- To Jonathan Shipley (February 24, 1786), 481
- To —— (July 3, 1786?), 484
- Speech in the Convention; On the Subject of Salaries (1787), 486
- Motion for Prayers in the Convention (1787), 489
- Speech in the Convention at the Conclusion of Its Deliberations (1787), 491
- To the Editors of the Pennsylvania Gazette (1788), 493
- To Rev. John Lathrop (May 31, 1788), 496
- To the Editor of the Federal Gazette (1788?), 496
- To Charles Carroll (May 25, 1789), 500
- An Account of the Supremest Court of Judicature in Pennsylvania, viz. the Court of the Press (1789), 501
- An Address to the Public (1789), 505
- To David Hartley (December 4, 1789), 506
- To Ezra Stiles (March 9, 1790), 507
- On the Slave-Trade (1790), 510
- Remarks Concerning the Savages of North America, 513
- An Arabian Tale, 519
- A Petition of the Left Hand (date unknown), 520
- Some Good Whig Principles (date unknown), 521
- The Art of Procuring Pleasant Dreams, 523
Notes, 529
[xiii]
INTRODUCTION
I. FRANKLIN'S MILIEU: THE AGE OF ENLIGHTENMENT
Benjamin Franklin's reputation, according to John Adams,
"was more universal than that of Leibnitz or Newton, Frederick
or Voltaire, and his character more beloved and esteemed than
any or all of them."[i-1] The historical critic recognizes increasingly
that Adams was not thinking idly when he doubted
whether Franklin's panegyrical and international reputation
could ever be explained without doing "a complete history of
the philosophy and politics of the eighteenth century." Adams
conceived that an explication of Franklin's mind and activities
integrated with the thought patterns of the epoch which fathered
him "would be one of the most important that ever was written;
much more interesting to this and future ages than the 'Decline
and Fall of the Roman Empire.'" And such a historical and
critical colossus is still among the works hoped for but yet unborn.
Too often, even in the scholarly mind, Franklin has
become a symbol, and it may be confessed, not a winged one,
of the self-made man, of New-World practicality, of the successful
tradesman, of the Sage of Poor Richard with his
penny-saving economy and frugality. In short, the Franklin
legend fails to transcend an allegory of the success of the doer
in an America allegedly materialistic, uncreative, and unimaginative.
It is the purpose of this essay to show that Franklin, the
American Voltaire,—always reasonable if not intuitive, encyclopedic
if not sublimely profound, humane if not saintly,—is
best explained with reference to the Age of Enlightenment, of
which he was the completest colonial representative. Due attention[xiv]
will, however, be paid to other factors. And therefore it is
necessary to begin with a brief survey of the pattern of ideas
of the age to which he was responsive. Not without reason does
one critic name him as "the most complete representative of his
century that any nation can point to."[i-2]
When Voltaire, "the patriarch of the philosophes," in 1726
took refuge in England, he at once discovered minds and an
attitude toward human experience which were to prove the
seminal factors of the Age of Enlightenment. He found that
Englishmen had acclaimed Bacon "the father of experimental
philosophy," and that Newton, "the destroyer of the Cartesian
system," was "as the Hercules of fabulous story, to whom the
ignorant ascribed all the feats of ancient heroes." Voltaire then
paused to praise Locke, who "destroyed innate ideas," Locke,
than whom "no man ever had a more judicious or more methodical
genius, or was a more acute logician." Bacon, Newton,
and Locke brooded over the currents of eighteenth-century
thought and were formative factors of much that is most characteristic
of the Enlightenment.
To Bacon was given the honor of having distinguished between
the fantasies of old wives' tales and the certainty of
empiricism. Moved by the ghost of Bacon, the Royal Society
had for its purpose, according to Hooke, "To improve the
knowledge of naturall things, and all useful Arts, Manufactures,
Mechanick practises, Engynes and Inventions by Experiments."[i-3]
The zeal for experiment was equaled only by its miscellaneousness.
Cheese making, the eclipses of comets, and the intestines[xv]
of gnats were alike the objects of telescopic or microscopic
scrutiny. The full implication of Baconian empiricism came to
fruition in Newton, who in 1672 was elected a Fellow of the
Royal Society. Bacon was not the least of those giants upon
whose shoulders Newton stood. To the experimental tradition
of Kepler, Brahe, Harvey, Copernicus, Galileo, and Bacon,
Newton joined the mathematical genius of Descartes; and as
a result became "as thoroughgoing an empiricist as he was a
consummate mathematician," for whom there was "no a priori
certainty."[i-4] At this time it is enough to note of Newtonianism,
that for the incomparable physicist "science was composed of
laws stating the mathematical behaviour of nature solely—laws
clearly deducible from phenomena and exactly verifiable in
phenomena—everything further is to be swept out of science,
which thus becomes a body of absolutely certain truth about
the doings of the physical world."[i-5] The pattern of ideas known
as Newtonianism may be summarized as embracing a belief in
(1) a universe governed by immutable natural laws, (2) which
laws constitute a sublimely harmonious system, (3) reflecting a
benevolent and all-wise Geometrician; (4) thus man desires to
effect a correspondingly harmonious inner heaven; (5) and feels
assured of the plausibility of an immortal life. Newton was a
believer in scriptural revelation. It is ironical that through his
cosmological system, mathematically demonstrable, he lent reinforcement[xvi]
to deism, the most destructive intellectual solvent
of the authority of the altar.
Deists, as defined by their contemporary, Ephraim Chambers
(in his Cyclopædia ..., London, 1728), are those "whose distinguishing
character it is, not to profess any particular form,
or system of religion; but only to acknowledge the existence of
a God, without rendering him any external worship, or service.
The Deists hold, that, considering the multiplicity of religions,
the numerous pretences to revelation, and the precarious arguments
generally advanced in proof thereof; the best and surest
way is, to return to the simplicity of nature, and the belief of
one God, which is the only truth agreed to by all nations."
They "reject all revelations as an imposition, and believe no
more than what natural light discovers to them...."[i-6] The
"simplicity of nature" signifies "the established order, and
course of natural things; the series of second causes; or the laws
which God has imposed on the motions impressed by him."[i-7]
And attraction, a kind of conatus accedendi, is the crown, according
to the eighteenth century, of the series of secondary causes.
Hence, Newtonian physics became the surest ally of the deist
in his quest for a religion, immutable and universal. The Newtonian
progeny were legion: among them were Boyle, Keill,
Desaguliers, Shaftesbury, Locke, Samuel Clarke, 'sGravesande,
Boerhaave, Diderot, Trenchard and Gordon, Voltaire, Gregory,
Maclaurin, Pemberton, and others. The eighteenth century
echoed Fontenelle's eulogy that Newtonianism was "sublime
geometry." If, as Boyle wrote, mathematical and mechanical
principles were "the alphabet, in which God wrote the world,"
Newtonian science and empiricism were the lexicons which the
deists used to read the cosmic volume in which the universal
laws were inscribed. And the deists and the liberal political
theorists "found the fulcrum for subverting existing institutions[xvii]
and standards only in the laws of nature, discovered, as
they supposed, by mathematicians and astronomers."[i-8]
Complementary to Newtonian science was the sensationalism
of John Locke. Conceiving the mind as tabula rasa, discrediting
innate ideas, Lockian psychology undermined such a theological
dogma as total depravity—man's innate and inveterate
malevolence—and hence was itself a kind of tabula rasa on
which later were written the optimistic opinions of those
who credited man's capacity for altruism. If it remained for
the French philosophes to deify Reason, Locke honored it as the
crowning experience of his sensational psychology.[i-9] Then, too,
as Miss Lois Whitney has ably demonstrated, Lockian psychology
"cleared the ground for either primitivism or a theory of
progress."[i-10] In addition, his social compact theory, augmenting
seventeenth-century liberalism, furnished the political theorists
of the Enlightenment with "the principle of Consent"[i-11] in their[xviii]
antipathy for monarchial obscurantism. Locke has been described
as the "originator of a psychology which provided democratic
government with a scientific basis."[i-12] The full impact of
Locke will be felt when philosophers deduce that if sensations
and reflections are the product of outward stimuli—those of
nature, society, and institutions—then to reform man one
needs only to reform society and institutions, or remove to
some tropical isle. We remember that the French Encyclopedists,
for example, were motivated by their faith in the
"indefinite malleability of human nature by education and
institutions."[i-13]
"With the possible exception of John Locke," C. A. Moore
observes, "Shaftesbury was more generally known in the mid-century
than any other English philosopher."[i-14] Shaftesbury's
a priori "virtuoso theory of benevolence" may be viewed as
complementary to Locke's psychology to the extent that both
have within them the implication that through education and
reform man may become perfectible. Both tend to undermine
social, political, and religious authoritarianism. Shaftesbury's
insistence upon man's innate altruism and compassion, coupled
with the deistic and rationalistic divorce between theology
and morality, resulted in the dogma that the most acceptable
service to God is expressed in kindness to God's other children
and helped to motivate the rise of humanitarianism.
The idea of progress[i-15] was popularized (if not born) in the
eighteenth century. It has been recently shown that not only[xix]
the results of scientific investigations but also Anglican defenses
of revealed religion served to accelerate a belief in progress.
In answer to the atheists and deists who indicted revealed
religion because revelation was given so late in the growth of
the human family and hence was not eternal, universal, and immutable,
the Anglican apologists were forced into the position
of asserting that man enjoyed a progressive ascent, that the religious
education of mankind is like that of the individual. If,
as the deists charged, Christ appeared rather belatedly, the
apologists countered that he was sent only when the race was
prepared to profit by his coming. God's revelations thus were
adjusted to progressive needs and capacities.[i-16]
Carl Becker has suggestively dissected the Enlightenment in
a series of antitheses between its credulity and its skepticism.
If the eighteenth-century philosopher renounced Eden, he discovered
Arcadia in distant isles and America. Rejecting the
authority of the Bible and church, he accepted the authority
of "nature," natural law, and reason. Although scorning metaphysics,
he desired to be considered philosophical. If he denied
miracles, he yet had a fond faith in the perfectibility of the
species.[i-17]
Even as Voltaire had his liberal tendencies stoutly reinforced
by contact with English rationalism and deism,[i-18] so were the
other French philosophes, united in their common hatred of the
Roman Catholic church, also united in their indebtedness to
exponents of English liberalism, dominated by Locke and Newton.
If, as Madame de Lambert wrote in 1715, Bayle more than
others of his age shook "the Yoke of authority and opinion,"
English free thought powerfully reinforced the native French
revolt against authoritarianism. After 1730 English was the[xx]
model for French thought.[i-19] Nearly all of Locke's works had
been translated in France before 1700. Voltaire's affinity for the
English mind has already been touched on. D'Alembert comments,
"When we measure the interval between a Scotus and a
Newton, or rather between the works of Scotus and those of
Newton, we must cry out with Terence, Homo homini quid
præstat."[i-20]
Any doctrine was intensely welcome which would allow
the Frenchman to regain his natural rights curtailed by the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes, by the inequalities of a state
vitiated by privileges, by an economic structure tottering because
of bankruptcy attending unsuccessful wars and the upkeep
of a Versailles with its dazzling ornaments, and by a religious
program dominated by a Jesuit rather than a Gallican
church.[i-21] Economic, political, and religious abuses were inextricably
united; the spirit of revolt did not feel obliged to
discriminate between the authority of the crown and nobles and
the authority of the altar. Graphic is Diderot's vulgar vituperation:
he would draw out the entrails of a priest to strangle a king!
Let us now turn to the American backgrounds. The bibliolatry
of colonial New England is expressed in William
Bradford's resolve to study languages so that he could "see with
his own eyes the ancient oracles of God in all their native
beauty."[i-22] In addition to furnishing the new Canaan with[xxi]
ecclesiastical and political precedent, Scripture provided "not
a partiall, but a perfect rule of Faith, and manners." Any dogma
contravening the "ancient oracle" was a weed sown by Satan
and fit only to be uprooted and thrown in the fire. The colonial
seventeenth century was one which, like John Cotton, regularly
sweetened its mouth "with a piece of Calvin." One need not
be reminded that Calvinism was inveterately and completely
antithetical to the dogma of the Enlightenment.[i-23] Calvinistic
bibliolatry contended with "the sacred book of nature." Its
wrathful though just Deity was unlike the compassionate, virtually
depersonalized Deity heralded in the eighteenth century,
in which the Trinity was dissolved. The redemptive Christ became
the amiable philosopher. Adam's universally contagious
guilt was transferred to social institutions, especially the tyrannical
forms of kings and priests. Calvin's forlorn and depraved
man became a creature naturally compassionate. If once man
worshipped the Deity through seeking to parallel the divine
laws scripturally revealed, in the eighteenth century he honored
his benevolent God, who was above demanding worship,
through kindnesses shown God's other children. The individual
was lost in society, self-perfection gave way to humanitarianism,
God to Man, theology to morality, and faith to reason.
The colonial seventeenth century was politically oligarchical:[xxii]
when Thomas Hooker heckled Winthrop on the lack of suffrage,
Winthrop with no compromise asserted that "the best
part is always the least, and of that best part the wiser part is
always the lesser."[i-24] If the seventeenth-century college was a
cloister for clerical education, the Enlightenment sought to
train the layman for citizenship.
With the turn of the seventeenth century several forces came
into prominence, undermining New England's Puritan heritage.
Among those relevant for our study are: the ubiquitous frontier,
and the rise of Quakerism, deism, Methodism, and science. The
impact of the frontier was neglected until Professor Turner
called attention to its existence; he writes that "the most important
effect of the frontier has been in the promotion of
democracy here and in Europe.... It produces antipathy to
control, and particularly to any direct control.... The frontier
conditions prevalent in the colonies are important factors in
the explanation of the American Revolution...."[i-25] In the
period included in our survey the frontier receded from the coast
to the fall line to the Alleghenies: at each stage it "did indeed
furnish a new field of opportunity, a gate of escape from the
bondage of the past; and freshness, and confidence, and scorn
of older society, impatience of its restraints and its ideas, and
indifference to its lessons, have accompanied the frontier."[i-26]
One recalls the spirited satire on frontier conditions, as the above
aspects give birth to violence and disregard for law, in Hugh
Brackenridge's Modern Chivalry. Under the satire one feels the
justness of the attack, intensified by our knowledge that Brackenridge
grew up "in a democratic Scotch-Irish back-country
settlement." If the frontiersmen during the eighteenth century
did not place their dirty boots on their governors' desks, they
were partially responsible for an inveterate spirit of revolt,[xxiii]
shown so brutally in the "massacres" provoked by the "Paxton
boys" of Pennsylvania. One is not unprepared to discover
resentment against the forms of authority in a territory in
which a strong back is more immediately important than a
knowledge of debates on predestination. Granting the importance
of the frontier in opposing the theocratic Old Way, it
must be considered in terms of other and more complex factors.
Reinforcing Edwards's Great Awakening, George Whitefield,
especially in the Middle Colonies, challenged the growing
complacence of colonial religious thought with his insistence
that man "is by nature half-brute and half-devil." It has been
suggested that Methodism in effect allied itself with the attitudes
of Hobbes and Mandeville in attacking man's nature, and hence
by reaction tended to provoke "a primitivism based on the
doctrine of natural benevolence."[i-27]
The "New English Israel" was harried by the Quakers,[i-28]
who preached the priesthood of all believers and the right of
private judgment. They denied the total depravity of the natural
man and the doctrine of election; they gloried in a loving
Father, and scourged the ecclesiastical pomp and ceremony of
other religions. They were possessed by a blunt enthusiasm
which held the immediate private revelation anterior to scriptural
revelation. Faithful to the inner light, the Quakers seemed to
neglect Scripture. Although the less extreme Quakers, such as
John Woolman, did not blind themselves to the need for personal
introspection and self-conquest, Quakerism as a movement
tended to place the greater emphasis on morality articulate in
terms of fellow-service, and lent momentum to the rise of
humanitarianism expressed in prison reform and anti-slavery
agitation. Also one may wonder to what extent colonial Quakerism
tended to lend sanction to the rising democratic spirit.
In the person of Cotton Mather, until recently considered a[xxiv]
bigoted incarnation of the "Puritan spirit ... become ossified,"
are discovered forces which, when divorced from Puritan theology,
were to become the sharpest wedges splintering the deep-rooted
oak of the Old Way. These forces were the authority
of reason and science. In The Christian Philosopher,[i-29] basing
his attitude on the works of Ray, Derham, Cheyne, and Grew,[i-30]
Mather attempted to shatter the Calvinists' antithesis between
science and theology, asserting "that [Natural] Philosophy is no
Enemy, but a mighty and wondrous Incentive to Religion."[i-31]
He warned that since even Mahomet with the aid of reason
found the Workman in his Work, Christian theologians should
fear "lest a Mahometan be called in for thy Condemnation!"[i-32]
Studying nature's sublime order, one must be blind if his
thoughts are not carried heavenward to "admire that Wisdom
itself!" Although Mather mistrusted Reason, he accepted it as
"the voice of God"—an experience which enabled him to discover
the workmanship of the Deity in nature. Magnetism, the
vegetable kingdom, the stars infer a harmonious order, so wondrous
that only a God could have created it. If Reason is no
complete substitute for Scripture it offers enough evidence to
hiss atheism out of the world: "A Being that must be superior
to Matter, even the Creator and Governor of all Matter, is
everywhere so conspicuous, that there can be nothing more
monstrous than to deny the God that is above."[i-33] Sir Isaac
Newton with his mathematical and experimental proof of the
sublime universal order strung on invariable secondary causes,
Mather confessed, is "our perpetual Dictator."[i-34] Conceiving of
science as a rebuke to the atheist, and a natural ally to scriptural[xxv]
theology, Mather, like a Newton himself, juxtaposed rationalism
and faith in one pyramidal confirmation of the existence,
omnipotence, and benevolence of God. Here were
variations from Calvinism's common path which, when augmented
by English and French liberalism, by the influence of
Quakerism and the frontier, were to give rise to democracy,
rationalism, and scientific deism. The Church of England
through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries had "pursued
a liberal latitudinarian policy which, as a mode of thought,
tended to promote deism by emphasizing rational religion and
minimizing revelation."[i-35] It was to be expected that in colonies
created by Puritans (or even Quakers), deism would have
a less spectacular and extensive success than it appears to have
had in the mother country. If militant deism remained an
aristocratic cult until the Revolution,[i-36] scientific rationalism
(Newtonianism) long before this, from the time of Mather,
became a common ally of orthodoxy. If a "religion of nature"
may be defined with Tillotson as "obedience to Natural Law,
and the performance of such duties as Natural Light, without
any express and supernatural revelation, doth dictate to man,"
then it was in the colonies, prior to the Revolution, more commonly
a buttress to revealed religion than an equivalent to it.
Lockian sensism and Newtonian science were the chief
sources of that brand of colonial rationalism which at first complemented
orthodoxy, and finally buried it among lost causes.
The Marquis de Chastellux was astounded when he found on a
center table in a Massachusetts inn an "Abridgment of Newton's
Philosophy"; whereupon he "put some questions" to his
host "on physics and geometry," with which he "found him
well acquainted."[i-37] Now, even a superficial reading of the eighteenth
century discloses countless allusions to Newton, his[xxvi]
popularizers, and the implications of his physics and cosmology.
As Mr. Brasch suggests, "From the standpoint of the
history of science," the extent of the vogue of Newtonianism
"is yet very largely unknown history."[i-38]
In Samuel Johnson's retrospective view, the Yale of 1710 at
Saybrook was anything but progressive with its "scholastic
cobwebs of a few little English and Dutch systems."[i-39] The year
of Johnson's graduation (1714), however, Mr. Dummer, Yale's
agent in London, collected seven hundred volumes, including
works of Norris, Barrow, Tillotson, Boyle, Halley, and the
second edition (1713) of the Principia and a copy of the Optics,
presented by Newton himself. After the schism of 1715/6 the
collection was moved to New Haven, at the time of Johnson's
election to a tutorship. It was then, writes Johnson, that the
trustees "introduced the study of Mr. Locke and Sir Isaac
Newton as fast as they could and in order to this the study of
mathematics. The Ptolemaic system was hitherto as much believed
as the Scriptures, but they soon cleared up and established
the Copernican by the help of Whiston's Lectures, Derham,
etc."[i-40] Johnson studied Euclid, algebra, and conic
sections "so as to read Sir Isaac with understanding." He
gloomily reviews the "infidelity and apostasy" resulting from
the study of the ideas of Locke, Tindal, Bolingbroke, Mandeville,
Shaftesbury, and Collins. That Newtonianism and even
deism made progress at Yale is the tenor of Johnson's backward
glance. About 1716 Samuel Clarke's edition of Rohault was introduced
at Yale: Clarke's Rohault[i-41] was an attack upon this[xxvii]
standard summary of Cartesianism. Ezra Stiles was not certain
that Clarke was honest in heaping up notes "not so much to illustrate
Rohault as to make him the Vehicle of conveying the
peculiarities of the sublimer Newtonian Philosophy."[i-42] This
work was used until 1743 when 'sGravesande's Natural Philosophy
was wisely substituted. Rector Thomas Clap used Wollaston's
Religion of Nature Delineated as a favorite text. That
there was no dearth of advanced natural science and philosophy,
even suggestive of deism, is fairly evident.
Measured by the growth of interest in science in the English
universities, Harvard's awareness of new discoveries was not
especially backward in the seventeenth century. Since Copernicanism
at the close of the sixteenth century had few adherents,[i-43]
it is almost startling to learn that probably by 1659 the
Copernican system was openly avowed at Harvard.[i-44] In 1786
Nathaniel Mather wrote from Dublin: "I perceive the Cartesian
philosophy begins to obteyn in New England, and if I conjecture
aright the Copernican system too."[i-45] John Barnard,
who was graduated from Harvard in 1710, has written that no
algebra was then taught, and wistfully suggests that he had been
born too soon, since "now" students "have the great Sir Isaac
Newton and Dr. Halley and some other mathematicians for their
guides."[i-46] Although Thomas Robie and Nathan Prince are
thought to have known Newton's physics through secondary
sources,[i-47] and, as Harvard tutors, indoctrinated their charges
with Newtonianism, it was left to Isaac Greenwood[i-48] to transplant[xxviii]
from London the popular expositions of Newtonian
philosophy. A Harvard graduate in 1721, Greenwood continued
his theological studies in London where he attended
Desaguliers's lectures on experimental philosophy, based essentially
on Newtonianism. From Desaguliers Greenwood learned
how
By Newton's help, 'tis evidently seen
Attraction governs all the World's machine.[i-49]
He learned that Scripture is "to teach us Morality, and our
Articles of Faith" but not to serve as an instructor in natural
philosophy.[i-50] In fine, Greenwood became devoted to science,
and science as it might serve to augment avenues to the religious
experience. In London he had come to know Hollis, who in
1727 suggested to Harvard authorities that Greenwood be
elected Hollis Professor of Mathematics and Natural and Experimental
Philosophy.[i-51] Greenwood accepted, and until 1737
was at Harvard a propagandist of the new science. In 1727 he
advertised in the Boston News-Letter[i-52] that he would give
scientific lectures, revolving primarily around "the Discoveries
of the incomparable Sir Isaac Newton." From 1727 through
1734 he was a prominent popularizer of Newtonianism in
Boston.[i-53]
It remained for Greenwood's pupil John Winthrop to be the
first to teach Newton at Harvard with adequate mechanical and
textual materials. Elected in 1738 to the Hollis professorship
formerly held by Greenwood, Winthrop adopted 'sGravesande's
Natural Philosophy, at which time, Cajori observes, "the teachings[xxix]
of Newton had at last secured a firm footing there."[i-54]
The year after his election he secured a copy of the Principia
(the third edition, 1726, edited by Dr. Henry Pemberton, friend
of Franklin in 1725-1726). According to the astute Ezra Stiles,
Winthrop became a "perfect master of Newton's Principia—which
cannot be said of many Professors of Philosophy in
Europe."[i-55] That he did not allow Newtonianism to draw him
to deism may be seen in Stiles's gratification that Winthrop
"was a Firm friend to Revelation in opposition to Deism."
Stiles "wish[es] the evangelical Doctors of Grace had made a
greater figure in his Ideal System of divinity," thus inferring that
Winthrop was a rationalist in theology, however orthodox.[i-56]
A cursory view of the eighteenth-century pulpit discloses
that if the clergy did not become deistic they were not blind
to a natural religion, and often employed its arguments to augment
scriptural authority. Aware of the writings of Samuel
Clarke, Wollaston, Whiston, Cudworth, Butler, Hutcheson,[i-57]
Voltaire, and Locke, Mayhew revolts against total depravity[i-58]
and the doctrines of election and the Trinity, arraigns himself
against authoritarianism and obscurantism, and though he draws
upon reason for revelation of God's will, he does not seem to
have been latitudinarian in respect to the holy oracles. Although
he often wrote ambiguously concerning the nature of Christ,
he asserted: "That I ever denied, or treated in a bold or ludicrous
manner, the divinity of the Son of God, as revealed in scripture,[xxx]
I absolutely deny."[i-59] He is antagonistic toward the mystical in
Calvinism, convinced that "The love of God is a calm and
rational thing, the result of thought and consideration."[i-60] His
biographer thinks that Mayhew was "the first clergyman in New
England who expressly and openly opposed the scholastic doctrine
of the trinity."[i-61] Coupling "natural and revealed religion,"
he does not threaten but he urges that one "ought not to leave
the clear light of revelation.... It becomes us to adhere to the
holy Scriptures as our only rule of faith and practice, discipline
and worship."[i-62] In Mayhew one finds an impotent compromise
between Calvinism and the demands of reason, fostered by
the Enlightenment. Like Mayhew's, in the main, are the views
of Dr. Charles Chauncy, who reconciled the demands of reason
and revelation, concluding that "the voice of reason is the voice
of God."[i-63] Jason Haven and Jonas Clarke are typical of the
orthodox rationalists who were alive to the implications of
science, and to such rationalists as Tillotson and Locke. Haven
affirms that "by the light of reason and nature, we are led to
believe in, and adore God, not only as the maker, but also as
the governor of all things."[i-64] "Revelation comes in to the assistance
of reason, and shews them to us in a clearer light than
we could see them without its aid." Clarke observes that "the
light of nature teaches, which revelation confirms."[i-65] Rev.
Henry Cumings, illustrating his indebtedness to scientific rationalism,
honors "the gracious Parent of the universe, whose[xxxi]
tender mercies are over all his works ...,"[i-66] a Deity "whose
providence governs the world; whose voice all nature obeys;
to whose controul all second causes and subordinate agents are
subject; and whose sole prerogative it is to dispense blessings
or calamities, as to his wisdom seems best."[i-67] Simeon Howard
discovers the "perfections of the Deity, as displayed in the
Creation" as well as in the "government and redemption of the
world."[i-68] Both Phillips Payson[i-69] and Andrew Eliot[i-70] affirm the
identity of "the voice of reason, and the voice of God."
No clergyman of the eighteenth century was more terribly
conscious of the polarity of colonial thought than was Ezra
Stiles. Abiel Holmes has told the graphic story of Stiles's
struggles with deism after reading Pope, Whiston, Boyle,
Trenchard and Gordon, Butler, Tindal, Collins, Bolingbroke,
and Shaftesbury.[i-71] If he finally, as a result of his trembling and
fearful doubt, reaffirmed zealously his faith in the bibliolatry and
relentless dogma of Calvinism,[i-72] Newtonian rationalism was a
means to his recovery, and throughout his life a complement to
his Calvinism.[i-73] Turning from his well-worn Bible, the chief
source of his faith, he also kindled his "devotion at the stars."
It should be remembered, however, that this tendency among
Puritan clergy to call science to the support of theology had
been inaugurated by Cotton Mather as early as 1693,[i-74] and that
it was the Puritan Mather whom Franklin acknowledged as
having started him on his career and influenced him, by his
Essays to do Good, throughout life.
[xxxii]
Only against this complex and as yet inadequately integrated
background of physical conditions and ideas (the dogmas of
Puritanism, Quakerism, Methodism, rationalism, scientific
deism, economic and political liberalism[i-75]—against a cosmic,
social, and individual attitude, the result of Old-World thought
impinging on colonial thought and environment) can one attempt
to appraise adequately the mind and achievements of
Franklin, whose life was coterminous with the decay of Puritan
theocracy and the rise of rationalism, democracy, and science.
II. FRANKLIN'S THEORIES OF EDUCATION
Franklin's penchant for projects manifests itself nowhere more
fully than in his schemes of education, both self and formal. One
may deduce a pattern of educational principles not undeservedly
called Franklin's theories of education, theories which he successfully
institutionalized, from an examination of his Junto
("the best school of philosophy, morality, and politics that then
existed in the province"[i-76]), his Philadelphia Library Company
(his "first project of a public nature"[i-77]), his[xxxiii]
Proposal for Promoting Useful Knowledge among the British Plantations in
America, calling for a scientific society of ingenious men or
virtuosi, his Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in
Pensilvania and Idea of the English School, which eventually
fathered the University of Pennsylvania, and from his fragmentary
notes in his correspondence.
Variously apotheosized, patronized, or damned for his practicality,
expediency, and opportunism, dramatized for his allegiance
to materiality, Franklin has commonly been viewed
(and not only through the popular imagination) as one fostering
in the American mind an unimaginative, utilitarian prudence,
motivated by the pedestrian virtues of industry, frugality, and
thrift. Whatever the educational effect of Franklin's life and
writings on American readers, we shall find that his works contain
schemes and theories which transcend the more mundane
habits and utilitarian biases ascribed to him.
Franklin progressively felt "the loss of the learned education"
his father had planned for him, as he realized in his
hunger for knowledge that he must repair the loss through assiduous
reading, accomplished during hours stolen from recreation
and sleep.[i-78] Proudly he confessed that reading was his
"only amusement."[i-79] In 1727 he formed the Junto, or Leather
Apron Club, his first educational project. Franklin was never
more eclectic than when founding the Junto. To prevent Boston
homes from becoming "the porches of hell,"[i-80] Cotton Mather
had created mutual improvement societies through which
neighbors would help one another "with a rapturous assiduity."[i-81]
Mather in his Essays to do Good proposed:[xxxiv]
That a proper number of persons in a neighborhood, whose
hearts God hath touched with a zeal to do good, should form
themselves into a society, to meet when and where they shall
agree, and to consider—"what are the disorders that we may
observe rising among us; and what may be done, either by
ourselves immediately, or by others through our advice, to
suppress those disorders?"[i-82]
Since Franklin's father was a member of one of Mather's "Associated
Families" and since Franklin as a boy read Mather's
Essays with rapt attention,[i-83] and since his Rules for a Club
Established for Mutual Improvement are amazingly congruent
with Mather's rules proposed for his neighborly societies, it is
not improbable that Franklin in part copied the plans of this
older club. One also wonders whether Franklin remembered
Defoe's suggestions in Essays upon Several Projects (1697) for
the formation of "Friendly Societies" in which members covenanted
to aid one another.[i-84] In addition, M. Faÿ has observed
that the "ideal which this society [the Junto] adopted was the
same that Franklin had discovered in the Masonic lodges of
England."[i-85] Then, too, in London during the period of
Desaguliers, Sir Hans Sloane, and Sir Isaac Newton, he would
have heard much of the ideals and utility of the Royal Society.
Many of the questions discussed by the Junto are suggestive
of the calendar of the Royal Society:
Is sound an entity or body?
How may the phenomena of vapors be explained?
What is the reason that the tides rise higher in the Bay of
Fundy, than the Bay of Delaware?
[xxxv]
How may smoky chimneys be best cured?
Why does the flame of a candle tend upwards in a spire?[i-86]
The Junto members, like Renaissance gentlemen, were determined
to convince themselves that nothing valuable to the
several powers of life should be alien to them. They were urged
to communicate to one another anything significant "in history,
morality, poetry, physic, travels, mechanic arts, or other parts
of knowledge."[i-87] Surely a humanistic catholicity of interest!
Schemes for getting on materially, suggestions for improving
the laws and protecting the "just liberties of the people,"[i-88]
efforts to aid the strangers in Philadelphia (an embryonic association
of commerce), curiosity in the latest remedies used for
the sick and wounded: all were to engage the minds of this assiduously
curious club. Above all, the members must be "serviceable
to mankind, to their country, to their friends, or to
themselves."[i-89] The intensity of the Junto's utilitarian purpose
was matched only by its humanitarian bias. Members must swear
that they "love mankind in general, of what profession or religion
soever,"[i-90] and that they believe no man should be persecuted
"for mere speculative opinions, or his external way of
worship." Also they must profess to "love truth for truth's
sake," to search diligently for it and to communicate it to
others. Tolerance, the empirical method, scientific disinterestedness,
and humanitarianism had hardly gained a foothold in
the colonies in 1728. On the other hand, the Junto members
were urged, when throwing a kiss to the world, not to neglect
their individual ethical development.[i-91] Franklin's humanitarian[xxxvi]
neighborliness is associated with a rigorous ethicism. The
members were invited to report "unhappy effects of intemperance,"
of "imprudence, of passion, or of any other vice
or folly," and also "happy effects of temperance, of prudence,
of moderation." Franklin reflects sturdily here, and boundlessly
elsewhere, the Greek and English emphasis on the Middle Way.
If this is prudential, it is an elevated prudence.
The Philadelphia Library Company was born of the Junto
and became "the mother of all the North American subscription
libraries, now so numerous."[i-92] The colonists, "having no publick
amusements to divert their attention from study, became
better acquainted with books, and in a few years were observ'd
by strangers to be better instructed and more intelligent than
people of the same rank generally are in other countries."[i-93] It
is curious that although many articles have been written describing
the Library Company no one seems to include a study
of the climate of ideas represented in its volumes.[i-94] One must
be careful not to credit Franklin with solely presiding over
the ordering of books. At a meeting in 1732 of the company,
Thomas Godfrey, probable inventor of the quadrant and he
who learned Latin to read the Principia, notified the body
that "Mr. Logan had let him know he would willingly give
his advice of the choice of the books ... the Committee esteeming[xxxvii]
Mr. Logan to be a Gentleman of universal learning, and the best
judge of books in these parts, ordered that Mr. Godfrey should
wait on him and request him to favour them with a catalogue
of suitable books."[i-95] The first order included: Puffendorf's
Introduction and Laws of Nature, Hayes upon Fluxions, Keill's
Astronomical Lectures, Sidney on Government, Gordon and
Trenchard's Cato's Letters, the Spectator, Guardian, Tatler,
L'Hospital's Conic Sections, Addison's works, Xenophon's
Memorabilia, Palladio, Evelyn, Abridgement of Philosophical
Transactions, 'sGravesande's Natural Philosophy, Homer's Odyssey
and Iliad, Bayle's Critical Dictionary, and Dryden's Virgil.
As a gift Peter Collinson included Newton's Principia in the
order. The ancient phalanxes were thoroughly routed! Then
there is the MS "List of Books of the Original Philadelphia
Library in Franklin's Handwriting"[i-96] which lends recruits to
the modern battalions. Included in this list are: Fontenelle on
Oracles, Woodward's Natural History of Fossils and Natural
History of the Earth, Keill's Examination of Burnet's Theory of
the Earth, Memoirs of the Royal Academy of Surgery at Paris,
William Petty's Essays, Voltaire's Elements of Sir Isaac Newton's
Philosophy, Halley's Astronomical Tables, Hill's Review of
the Works of the Royal Society, Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws,
Burlamaqui's Principles of Natural Law and Principles of Politic
Law, Bolingbroke's Letters on the Study and Use of History,
and Conyer Middleton's Miscellaneous Works. From the
volumes owned by the Library Company in 1757 it would
have been possible for an alert mind to discover all of the
implications, philosophic and religious, of the rationale of
science. No less could be found here the political speculations
which were later to aid the colonists in unyoking themselves
from England. The Library was an arsenal capable of supplying[xxxviii]
weapons to rationalistic minds intent on besieging the
fortress of Calvinism. Defenders of natural rights could find
ammunition to wound monarchism; here authors could discover
the neoclassic ideals of curiosa felicitas, perspicuity,
order, and lucidity reinforced by the emphasis on clarity and
correctness sponsored by the Royal Society and inherent in
Newtonianism as well as Cartesianism. In short, the volumes
contained the ripest fruition of scientific and rationalistic modernity.
One can only conjecture the extent to which this library
would perplex, astonish, and finally convert men to rationalism
and scientific deism, and release them from bondage to throne
and altar.
In 1743 Franklin wrote and distributed among his correspondents
A Proposal for Promoting Useful Knowledge among
the British Plantations in America. From a letter (Feb. 17,
1735/6) of William Douglass, one-time friend of Franklin's
brother James, to Cadwallader Colden, we learn that some years
before 1736, Colden "proposed the forming a sort of Virtuoso
Society or rather Correspondence."[i-97] I. W. Riley suggests that
Franklin owes Colden thanks for having stimulated him to form
the American Philosophical Society.[i-98] There remains no convincing
evidence, however, to disprove A. H. Smyth's observation
that Franklin's Proposal "appears to contain the first suggestions,
in any public form [editors' italics] for an American
Philosophical Society." P. S. Du Ponceau has noted with compelling
evidence that the philosophical society formed in 1744
was the direct descendant of Franklin's Junto.[i-99] That in part
the Philadelphia Library Company was one of the factors in[xxxix]
the formation of the scientific society may be inferred from
Franklin's request that it be founded in Philadelphia, which,
"having the advantages of a good growing library," can "be the
centre of the Society."[i-100] The most important factor, however,
was obviously the desire to imitate the forms and ideals of the
Royal Society of London. Both societies had as their purpose
the improvement of "the common stock of knowledge"; neither
was to be provincial or national in interests, but was to have in
mind the "benefit of mankind in general." A study of Franklin's
Proposal will suggest the purpose of the Royal Society as
interpreted by Thomas Sprat:
Their purpose is, in short, to make faithful Records, of all
the Works of Nature, or Art, which can come within their
reach: that so the present Age, and posterity, may be able to
put a mark on the Errors, which have been strengthened by
long prescription: to restore the Truths, that have lain neglected:
to push on those, which are already known, to more
various uses: and to make the way more passable, to what
remains unreveal'd.[i-101]
The Royal Society, no less than Franklin's Proposal, stressed
the usefulness of its experimentation. Even as it sought "to overcome
the mysteries of all the Works of Nature"[i-102] through
experimentation and induction, the Baconian empirical method,
so Franklin urged the cultivation of "all philosophical experiments
that let light into the nature of things, tend to increase the
power of man over matter, and multiply the conveniences or
pleasures of life."[i-103] Though Franklin may have stopped short
of theoretical science,[i-104] he was not only interested in making[xl]
devices but also in discovering immutable natural laws on which
he could base his mechanics for making the world more habitable,
less unknown and terrifying. Interpreting natural phenomena
in terms of gravity and the laws of electrical attraction
and repulsion is to detract from the terror in a universe presided
over by a providential Deity, exerting his wrath through portentous
comets, "fire-balls flung by an angry God."
Franklin's program is no more miscellaneous, or seemingly
pedestrian, than the practices of the Royal Society. As a discoverer
of nature's laws and their application to man's use,
Franklin, the Newton of electricity, appealed to fact and experiment
rather than authority and suggested that education in
science may serve, in addition to making the world more comfortable,
to make it more habitable and less terrifying. The
ideals of scientific research and disinterestedness were dramatized
picturesquely by the Tradesman Franklin, who aided the
colonist in becoming unafraid.
Although his Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth
in Pensilvania (1749) furnished the initial suggestion which
created the Philadelphia Academy, later the college, and ultimately
the University of Pennsylvania, it is easy to overestimate
the real significance of Franklin's influence in these
schemes unless we remember that political quarrels separated
him from those who were nurturing the school in the 1750's. In
1759 Franklin wrote from London to his friend, Professor Kinnersley,
concerning the cabal in the Academy against him:
"The Trustees have reap'd the full Advantage of my Head,
Hands, Heart and Purse, in getting through the first Difficulties
of the Design, and when they thought they could do without[xli]
me, they laid me aside."[i-105] After Franklin failed to secure
Samuel Johnson,[i-106] Rev. William Smith was made Provost and
Professor of Natural Philosophy of the Academy in 1754. He
quoted Franklin as saying that the Academy had become "a
narrow, bigoted institution, put into the hands of the Proprietary
party as an engine of government."[i-107]
[xlii]
With Milton, Locke, Fordyce, Walker, Rollin, Turnbull,
and "some others" as his sources, Franklin adapted the works of
these pioneers in education to provincial uses. (One finds it
difficult to discover any original ideas in the Proposals.) Like
Locke and Milton, he urged that education "supply the succeeding
Age with Men qualified to serve the Publick with Honour
to themselves, and to their Country."[i-108] Here he was unlike
President Clap, who in 1754 explained that "the Original End
and design of Colleges was to instruct and train up persons
for the Work of the ministry.... The great design of founding
this school [Yale] was to educate ministers in our own
way."[i-109] As early as 1722, in Dogood Paper No. IV, Franklin
caricatured sardonically the narrow theological curriculum
of Harvard College.[i-110] Existing for the citizenry rather than
the clergy, offering instruction in English as well as Latin and
Greek, in mechanics, physical culture, natural history, gardening,
mathematics, and arithmetic rather than in sectarian theology,
Franklin's Academy was to be more secular and utilitarian
than any other school in the provinces. Indeed, Rev. George
Whitefield lamented the want of "aliquid Christi" in the curriculum,
"to make it as useful as I would desire it might be."
Franklin stressed the need for the acquisition of a clear and
concise literary style. He observed: "Reading should also be[xliii]
taught, and pronouncing, properly, distinctly, emphatically; not
with an even Tone, which under-does, nor a theatrical, which
over-does Nature." Hence he reflected the virtues of neoclassic
perspicuity and correctness. (These plans he more fully expressed
in his Idea of the English School, published in 1751.) As
he grew older he apparently became less tolerant of the teaching
of the ancient languages in colonial schools: in Observations
Relative to the Intentions of the Original Founders of the Academy
of Philadelphia (1789), he charged that the Latin school had
swallowed the English and that he was hence "surrounded by the
Ghosts of my dear departed Friends, beckoning and urging me to
use the only Tongue now left us, in demanding that Justice to
our Grandchildren, that our Children has [sic] been denied."[i-111]
The Latin and Greek languages he considered "in no other light
than as the Chapeau bras of modern Literature."[i-112] Like Emerson's,
his opposition was to linguistic study rather than to the
classical ideas.
Although he emphasized the study of science and mechanics,
it is important to observe that he kept his balance. He warned
Miss Mary Stevenson in 1760: "There is ... 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."[i-113] Not without
reserve did he champion the Moderns; remembering several
provocative scientific observations in Pliny, he wrote to William
Brownrigg (Nov. 7, 1773): "It has been of late too much the
mode to slight the learning of the ancients."[i-114] He would not
agree with the enthusiastic and trenchant disciple of the[xliv]
moderns, M. Fontenelle, that "We are under an obligation to
the ancients for having exhausted almost all the false theories
that could be found."[i-115] Although he would agree that the
empirical method of acquiring knowledge is more reasonable
than authoritarianism reared on syllogistic foundations, and
with Cowley that
Bacon has broke that scar-crow Deity ["Authority"],[i-116]
he was not blithely confident that science and the knowledge
gained from experimentation would create a more rigorously
moral race. He wrote to Priestley in 1782: "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, not the
animate or moral part of them, the more I discover'd of the
former, the more I admir'd them; the more I know of the latter,
the more I am disgusted with them."[i-117] He often suggested,
"As Men grow more enlightened," but seldom did this clause
carry more than an intellectual connotation. Progress in knowledge[i-118]
did not on the whole suggest to Franklin progress in
morals or the general progress of mankind.
Essentially classical in morality, extolling a temperance like
that of Xenophon, Epictetus, Cicero, Socrates, and Aristotle,
Franklin could not cheerily champion the moderns without
serious reservations. Considering only progress in knowledge,
man may be considered as pedetentim progredientes, but,
Franklin thought, man seemed to have found it easier to conquer
lightning than himself. If science and other contemporaneous
knowledge detracted from cosmic terror, it did not solve the
problem of the mystery of evil and sin: like Shakespeare, Franklin
was perplexed by the inexplicability and ruthlessness of
Man's potential and actual malevolence.[i-119] Thus in stressing[xlv]
utility and vocational adaptiveness, Franklin did not forget to
stress the need for development of character, man's internal self,
and here he did not find the ancients dispensable.[i-120] If unlike
Socrates in his studies of physical nature, he was like the Athenian
gadfly in his quest for moral perfection in the teeth of "perpetual
temptation," in his strenuous and sober effort to know
himself. Too little attention has been paid Franklin's Hellenic
sobriety—even as it has had too meagre an influence. Let
Molière challenge, "The ancients are the ancients, we are the
people of today"; Franklin, although confident that he could
learn more of physical nature from Newton than from Aristotle,
was not convinced that the wisdom of Epictetus or the
Golden Verses of Pythagoras were less salutary than the wit
of his own age. A modern in his confidence in the progress of
knowledge, Franklin, approaching the problem of morality,
wisely saw the ancients and moderns as complementary. Aware
of the continuity of the mind and race, he was not willing to
dismiss the ancients as fit to be imitated. Yet he failed to discover
in the welter of egoistic men any continuous moral progress,
although, unlike the determinists, he thought that the individual
could improve himself through self-knowledge and
self-control. Unlike contemporary exponents of the "original
genius" cult who scorned industrious rational study and conformity,
Franklin as an educational theorist was the exponent
of reason and of conscious intellectual industry and thrift; he
would mediate between the study of nature and of man, and, like
Aristotle, he would rely not so much upon individualistic self-expression
as upon a purposeful imitation of those men in the
past who had led useful and happy lives.
[xlvi]
III. FRANKLIN'S LITERARY THEORY AND PRACTICE
[i-121]
Uniting the "wit of Voltaire with the simplicity of Rousseau,"
Franklin achieved a style "only surpassed by the unimprovable
Hobbes of Malmesbury, the paragon of perspicuity." Characterized
by simplicity, order, and a trenchant pointedness, his
prose style was "a principal means" of his "advancement."[i-122]
He was "extreamly ambitious ... to be a tolerable English
writer." In the Autobiography he recalls that he read books in
"polemic divinity," Plutarch's Lives (probably Dryden's translation),
Pilgrims Progress, Defoe's Essays upon Several Projects,
Mather's Essays to do Good, Xenophon's Memorabilia,[i-123]
the Spectator papers, and the writings of Shaftesbury and Collins.
Born in Boston, he knew the Bible,[i-124] characterized by[xlvii]
the apostle of Augustan correctness, Jonathan Swift, as possessing
"that simplicity, which is one of the greatest perfections
in any language." If Franklin did not achieve its "sublime
eloquence," he approximated at intervals its directness and
simplicity. In reading Defoe's Essays he learned that Queen
Anne's England urged that writers be "as concise as possible"
and avoid all "superfluous crowding in of insignificant words,
more than are needful to express the thing intended." (It is possible
that Defoe's efforts "to polish and refine the English
tongue," to avoid "all irregular additions that ignorance and
affectation have introduced," influenced Franklin in favor of
"correctness" and against provincialisms.) Defoe's "explicit,
easy, free, and very plain" rhetoric is Franklin's.
After Franklin's father warned him that his arguments were
not well-ordered and trenchantly expressed, he desperately
sought to acquire a convincing prose style. In 1717 James,
Franklin's elder brother, returned from serving a printer's
apprenticeship in London. James had known and been attracted
to Augustan England, the England of the Tatler, Spectator, and
Guardian. Familiar is Franklin's narrative of how he patterned
his fledgling style on the pages of the Spectator papers, and
learned to satisfy his father—and himself. Like the neoclassicists,
Franklin learned to write by imitation, by respectfully
subordinating himself to those he recognized as masters, and
not, like the romanticists, by expressing his own ego in revolt
against convention and conformity to traditional standards. The
group who supplied copy for James's New England Courant,
we are told, were trying to write like the Spectator. "The very
look of an ordinary first page of the Courant is like that of the
Spectator page."[i-125] In the Dogood Papers (1722) and the Busy-Body[xlviii]
series (1728) Franklin's writings show a literal indebtedness
to the style and even substance of the Spectator.[i-126] If, after
the Busy-Body essays, Franklin's writings bear little resemblance
to the elegance and glow of the Spectator, he did learn
from it a long-remembered lesson in orderliness. From the
Spectator he may have learned to temper wit with morality and
morality with wit; he may have learned the neoclassic objection
to the "unhappy Force of an Imagination, unguided by the
Check of Reason and Judgment";[i-127] he may have acquired
his distrust of foreign phrases when English ones were as good,
or better, insisting on the use of native English undefiled. It is
interesting but perhaps futile to conjecture to what degree
Franklin at this time, on reading Spectator No. 160, "On Geniuses"
(warning against a servile imitation of ancient authors,
a warning which anticipates the cult of original geniuses of later
decades), would have been predisposed against ancient literature
and languages. If the Spectator was partially responsible for his
pleasantries at the expense of Greek in Dogood Paper No. IV, his
attitude toward the ancients is more ostensibly the result of his
later preoccupation with the sciences,[i-128] and of contact with
representatives of the deistic time-spirit whose faith in progress
led them to underrate the past.
When Franklin went to live in London in 1724-1726, and
became familiar with such men of science as Dr. Henry Pemberton
and others, he must have become aware of ideals of prose
style not a little unlike those practised by the preachers of his
Boston. In Boston he had heard (and in the polemical works
in his father's library, read) sermons couched in a style satirized
in Hudibras as a "Babylonish dialect ... of patched and piebald
languages" (ll. 93 ff.). Sensing the disparity between the seventeenth-century[xlix]
prose styles and the empirical, logical, and orderly
method of science, the Royal Society not long after its
inception inaugurated a campaign for a clarity akin to the pattern
urged by Hobbes: "The Light of humane minds is Perspicuous
Words, Reason is the Pace, Encrease of Science the way;
and the benefit of man-kind the end. And on the contrary,
Metaphors, and senseless and ambiguous words, are like ignes
fatui; and reasoning upon them, is wandering among innumerable
absurdities."[i-129] Summarizing the intent of the stylistic
reformations instituted by the Royal Society, Thomas Sprat
urged writers "to reject all the amplifications, digressions, and
swellings of style: to return back to the primitive purity, and
shortness, when men deliver'd so many things, almost in an
equal number of words ... a close, naked, natural way of
speaking; positive expressions; clear senses; a native easiness:
bringing all things as near the Mathematical plainness, as they
can: and preferring the language of Artizans, Countrymen, and
Merchants, before that, of Wits, or Scholars."[i-130] It is asserted
that the program of the Royal Society "called for stylistic reform
as loudly as for reformation in philosophy. Moreover,
this attitude was in the public mind indissolubly associated with
the Society."[i-131] It is only reasonable to infer that Franklin (as
a member of the Royal Society and as founder of the American
Philosophical Society) was alive to the movement toward "undefiled[l]
plainness" which had for half a century been gathering
momentum.[i-132]
Even as Cartesianism[i-133] in France is said to have fostered
logic and lucidity of detail, and that which is universally valid
and recognized by all men, and that art which is aloof to the
non-human world, so in England may Newtonianism (which
overthrew Cartesianism) have conditioned writers to develop
a uniform style, purged of tenuous rhetorical devices. An age
characterized by a worship of reason, which was supposed to
be identical in all men, an age deferring to the general
mind of man, would be hostile to the rhetorical caprices of
those expressing their private, idiosyncratic enthusiasms. If
the neoclassic apotheosis of simplicity and freedom from intricacy
was the result of a "rationalistic anti-intellectualism,"[i-134]
expressed in terms of hostility to belabored proof of ideas
known to the general will, then it would seem that one of the
factors sturdily conditioning this hostility was Newtonian
science. Admitting that reason leads to uniformitarianism, one
may recall that the processes of science are discoverable by
reason, and that such a cosmologist as Newton illustrated
mathematically and empirically a system, grand in its lucidity,
and capable of being apprehended by all through
reason. If the deistic fear of "enthusiasm" in religion—the
individual will prevailing against the consensus gentium—parallels,
according to Professor Lovejoy, the neoclassic fear of
feeling and the unrestrained play of imagination in art, then
Newtonian science, as it reinforced deism, was no negligible
factor in discrediting enthusiasm, and hence indirectly militating
against originality, emotion, and the unchecked imagination.
Is it not conceivable that the Newtonian[i-135] cosmology, popularized[li]
by a vast discipleship, challenged the scientists and men
of letters alike to achieve a corresponding order, clarity, and
simplicity in poetry and prose?
After Franklin's return from London, he reinforced his Addison-like
style with the rhetorical implications of science and
Newtonianism: in his Preface (1729) to the Pennsylvania Gazette
he observed that an editor ought to possess a "great Easiness
and Command of Writing and Relating Things clearly
and intelligibly, and in few Words."[i-136] Good writing, in
Franklin's opinion, "should proceed regularly from things
known to things unknown [surely the method of all inductive
reasoning and science] distinctly and clearly without confusion.
The words used should be the most expressive that the language
affords, provided that they are the most generally understood.
Nothing should be expressed in two words that can be as well
expressed in one; that is, no synonyms should be used, or very
rarely, but the whole should be as short as possible, consistent
with clearness; the words should be so placed as to be agreeable
to the ear in reading; summarily it should be smooth, clear, and
short, for the contrary qualities are displeasing."[i-137] Like the
members of the Royal Society, Franklin would bring the words
of written discourse "as near as possible to the spoken."[i-138] In
1753 he observed: "If my Hypothesis [concerning waterspouts]
is not the Truth itself it is [at] least as naked: For I have not with
some of our learned Moderns, disguis'd my Nonsense in Greek,
cloth'd it in Algebra or adorn'd it with Fluxions. You have it
in puris naturalibus."[i-139] He briefly summarized his rhetorical
ideal, in a letter to Hume: "In writings intended for persuasion[lii]
and for general information, one cannot be too clear; and every
expression in the least obscure is a fault."[i-140]
Unlike Jefferson, "no friend to what is called purism, but a
zealous one" to neology, Franklin had an inveterate antipathy
toward the use of colloquialisms, provincialisms, and extravagant
innovations.[i-141] In another letter to Hume, he hoped that
"we shall always in America make the best English of this
Island [Britain] our standard."[i-142] If he did not hold the typical
eighteenth-century view that "English must be subjected to a
process of classical regularizing,"[i-143] neither did he, with his
friend Joseph Priestley, espouse the idea of correctness, dependent
only on usage. In general, he seems to have had a tendency
toward purism; it is not unlikely that as a youth he was influenced
by Swift's Proposal for Correcting, Improving, and
Ascertaining the English Tongue.[i-144] Striving for correctness, and[liii]
the avoidance of "affected Words or high-flown Phrases"[i-145] he
approximated the curiosa felicitas of the neoclassicists.[i-146]
A solid neoclassicist[i-147] in style. Franklin accepted the canon
of imitation as it was imperfectly understood in the eighteenth
century. To the extent, however, that the models were conceived
of as approximating the consensus gentium, fragments
illustrating universal reason, there may be little disparity between
neoclassic imitation and Aristotle's use of the term in the
sense of imitating a higher ethical reality. His own life, Franklin
thought, (with the exception of a few "errata") was "fit to
be imitated."[i-148] A. H. Smyth notes, perhaps extravagantly,
"Nothing but the 'Autobiography' of Benvenuto Cellini, or the
'Confessions' of Rousseau, can enter into competition with it."[i-149]
This may suggest a clue to the durable nature of Franklin's
life-tale. Cellini, it is true, was tremendously alive to Benvenuto,
even as Michel de Montaigne was interested in his own whims,
but neither Cellini, nor Montaigne, nor Franklin, could have
penned the Confessions, the thesis of which is that if Rousseau
is not better than other men at least he is different. Cellini,
Montaigne, and Franklin, on the other hand, while allowing us
to see their fancies and singular biases, tended to emphasize[liv]
those qualities which they held in common with their age,
nation, and even the continuity of mankind. Montaigne, it will
be remembered, sought to express la connaissance de l'homme en
général. With no aspirations to become an original genius,
Franklin, both in his prose style and his yearning for perfection,
sought the guidance of models, which he conceived as embodying
universal reason. Had he been a writer of epics[i-150] he would
with Pope have acquired "from ancient rules a just esteem"—when
the rules were, in his mind, "according to nature."
Likewise Franklin is representative of the Enlightenment in
his description of the province of the imagination. It is an
axiom that "the belief that the imagination ought to be kept in
check by reason, pervades the critical literature of the first half
of the eighteenth century."[i-151] Franklin observes that poetasters
above all need instruction on how to govern "Fancy [Imagination]
with Judgement."[i-152] He implies that imagination is a
power lending an air of unreality to a creation, often like "the
Effect of some melancholy Humour."[i-153] He feared that the unchecked
fancy would vitiate his ideals of simplicity and correctness,
and a sober and practical argument.
[lv]
Posing as no original genius independent of the wisdom of
the ages,[i-154] confessing that "from a child" he "was fond of
reading" and that as a youth "reading was the only amusement"
he allowed himself, Franklin was not backward in cataloguing
many of the authors who helped to motivate his thought. He
seems to have been acquainted with portions of Plato,
Aesop, Pliny, Xenophon, Herodotus, Epictetus, Vergil,
Horace, Tacitus, Seneca, Sallust, Cicero, Tully, Milton, Jeremy
Taylor, Bacon, Dryden, Tillotson, Rabelais,[i-155] Bunyan, Fénelon,
Chevalier de Ramsay,[i-156] Pythagoras, Waller, Defoe, Addison
and Steele, William Temple, Pope, Swift, Voltaire,
Boyle, Algernon Sidney, Trenchard and Gordon,[i-157] Young,
Mandeville, Locke, Shaftesbury, Collins, Bolingbroke, Richardson,
Whiston, Watts, Thomson, Burke, Cowper, Darwin,
Rowe, Rapin, Herschel, Paley, Lord Kames, Adam Smith,
Hume, Robertson, Lavoisier, Buffon, Dupont de Nemours,
Whitefield, Pemberton, Blackmore, John Ray, Petty, Turgot,
Priestley, Paine, Mirabeau, Quesnay, Raynal, Morellet, and
Condorcet, to suggest only the more prominent.[i-158] Such a
catalogue tends to discredit the all too common idea that the
untutored tradesman was torpid to the information and wisdom
found in books.
If his prose style shows none of the delicate rhythms and
haunting imagery of the prose born of the romantic movement,
it is nevertheless far from pedestrian. If it seems devoid of
imaginative splendor, it is not lacking in force and persuasion.[i-159]
After one has noted Franklin's canon of simplicity[lvi]
and order, his insistence on correctness, his assumed role
as Censor Morum, his acceptance of the doctrine of imitation
and the use of imagination guided by reason, one
returns to the question of the degree to which the ideals
of rhetoric fostered by the men of science may have helped to
motivate Franklin's prose style, and to what degree his acceptance
of deism augmented by Newtonianism may have furnished
him with a rationale which lent sanction to his demand for a
simple style.
Sir Humphrey Davy found in Franklin's scientific papers a
language lucid and decorous, "almost as worthy of admiration
as the doctrine"[i-160] they contain. S. G. Fisher buoyantly maintained
that Franklin's "is the most effective literary style ever
used by an American." After reading Franklin's paper on stoves
he was "inclined to lay down the principle that the test of literary
genius is the ability to be fascinating about stoves."[i-161]
Whether he writes soberly (albeit tempered by Gallic fancy) of
the mutability of life, as in The Ephemera, or of sophisticated
social amenities, as in the letters to Madame Brillon and
Madame Helvétius, or in his memoirs, in which solid fact
follows solid fact, sifted by the years of good fortune,
Franklin's style never loses its compelling charm and vigor.
If he never wrote (or uttered) less than was demanded
by the nature of his subject, neither would he have disgusted
the Clerk of Oxenford who
Nought o word spak he more than was nede.
[lvii]
He was no formal literary critic such as Boileau, Lessing, or Coleridge,
and no acknowledged arbiter of taste, such as Dr. Johnson.
Yet Franklin, in voluminous practice, enjoying tremendous
international vogue, proved that his theories bore the acid test
of effectiveness. Indirectly he challenged his readers to honor
principles of rhetoric which could so trenchantly serve the
demands of his catholic pen, and make him one of the most
widely read of all Americans.
IV. FRANKLIN AS PRINTER AND JOURNALIST
Franklin was a printer chiefly because of two proclivities
which were basic in his personality from childhood to old age—a
bent toward practical mechanics ("handiness") and a fondness
for reading (bookishness). Further, he was a journalist and
publisher chiefly because he was a printer.
A thorough printer is both an artisan and an artist; he has
both the manual dexterity of a good workman and the aesthetic
appreciation of the amateur of beauty. Franklin always took
pride in his ability to handle the printer's tools, from the time
when, at the age of twelve, he became "a useful hand"[i-162] in the
print shop of his brother James, until the very end of his life.
One of the pleasantest anecdotes of the old printer is that which
tells of his visit to the famous Didot printing establishment in
Paris, when he stepped up to a press, and motioning the printer
aside, himself took possession of the machine and printed off
several sheets. Then the American ambassador smiled at the
gaping printers and said, "Do not be astonished, Sirs, it is my
former business."[i-163]
Even in his boyhood, it was a pleasure to Franklin "to see
good workmen handle their tools," and he tells in his autobiography
how much this feeling for tools meant to him throughout
his life.[i-164] His flair for invention, though founded on this same[lviii]
"handiness," was not always directed toward the production of
tools; but in the two fields of "philosophical" experimentation
and the printing trade, his dexterity and cleverness in making
needful instruments and devices were invaluable.
Partly because of the fact that printers' supplies must be imported
from England, and partly because of his natural tool-mindedness,
Franklin manufactured more of his own supplies
than any other American commercial printer before or since.
He cast type, made paper molds, mixed inks, made contributions
to press building, did engraving, forwarded experiments
in stereotyping, and worked at logotypy. Long after he had
retired from the printing business. Franklin continued to influence
developments in that field. It is a common saying
among printers that one never forgets the smell of printer's ink.
Franklin kept touch with his former business through various
partnerships, through correspondence with printer friends,
through the establishment of a private press in his home at
Passy during his ambassadorship to France, and through his
personal supervision of the education of his grandson in "the
art preservative of arts." "I am too old to follow printing again
myself," he wrote to a friend, "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-165]
As to just how adept Franklin was on the distinctively aesthetic
side of printing, critics must differ. It has been customary
to assume that the output of his shop was far superior to that of
the several other printing houses in the colonies.[i-166] Such broad
generalizations are misleading, however; and it is certainly possible[lix]
to find Parks and even Bradford imprints which compare
favorably enough with some of Franklin's. In typography, the
phase of printing which affords the widest aesthetic scope,
Franklin was by no means a genius. William Parks, of Annapolis
and later of Williamsburg, was at least Franklin's peer during
the seventeen-thirties and 'forties in the artistic arrangement of
type; and William Goddard, who practiced the art a little later
in several of the colonies, was his superior. Yet Franklin was
an outstanding printer in a region blessed with few good presses.
The difference between him and most of the other colonial
printers may be stated thus: Franklin maintained a high average
of workmanlike (though not inspired) performance, while his
contemporaries were inclined to be slovenly, inaccurate, and
generally careless.
In the later years of his life Franklin gave no little attention
to fine printing, though as a dilettante rather than as a commercial
printer. In France he was friendly with François Ambroise
Didot, the greatest French printer of his times, and put his
grandson Benjamin Franklin Bache to school in Didot's establishment.
With Pierre Simon Fournier, who ranked next to
Didot among French printers, Franklin corresponded from time
to time. In England the American printer maintained touch
with prominent practitioners of his craft from the time of his
first visit abroad until his death. Samuel Palmer, Franklin's
first London employer, was but a mediocre printer; but John
Watts, to whose house the young American went after a year
at Palmer's, stood much higher in his vocation.[i-167] Both Watts
and Palmer were patrons of William Caslon, from whom
Franklin later bought type. But John Baskerville, Caslon's
rival, was the founder whom Franklin did most to encourage
and to bring to the attention of discriminating printers. The
English printer with whom Franklin was upon the terms of[lx]
greatest intimacy—and that for many years—was William
Strahan, member of Parliament, King's Printer, and a successful
publisher. Strahan was a man of parts, a great letter writer, and
a friend of David Hume and Samuel Johnson. The latter referred
to the Strahan shop as "the greatest printing house in
London."[i-168] Another correspondent was John Walter, logotyper,
press builder, and founder of the London Times.[i-169] In all
his letters to his printer friends, Franklin shows not only a lively
interest in improvements and inventions for the trade, but also
an increasing interest in the artistic side of printing and type-founding.
The "bookish inclination" which Franklin credits in the
Autobiography with being the quality that decided his father to
make a printer of him, appertained to the trade because printers
were commonly publishers and sellers of books and pamphlets,
and often editors and publishers of newspapers. How the young
Franklin satisfied his literary urge in the print shop of his brother
James is a familiar story, and his theories of writing are traced
in another section of this Introduction. The contribution to
literature which he made as a publisher of original books is negligible,
but he did his part both as publisher and bookseller to
spread that bookishness to which he felt that he owed much of
his own success. Like all publishers before and since, he was
forced by his customers to issue books of a lower sort than he
could fully approve in order to float editions of more desirable
works: he tells plaintively of his public's preference for "Robin
Hood's Songs" over the Psalms of his beloved Watts.[i-170] In still[lxi]
another way, Franklin promoted the bookishness of his community:
he founded the first of American circulating libraries,
and he built up for himself one of the largest private libraries
in the country.[i-171]
Journalism was a common by-product of the printing trade.
When Franklin and Meredith took over Keimer's The Universal
Instructor in all Arts and Sciences: and Pennsylvania Gazette in
1729, there were six other newspapers being published in the
colonies—three in Boston and one each in New York, Philadelphia,
and Annapolis. The Williamsburg press had a newspaper
a few years later, but the other two printing towns in the
colonies had to wait some thirty years for journalistic ventures—a
newspaper in New London and a magazine in Woodbridge.[i-172]
The fundamental question to be asked in analyzing a newspaper
may be stated thus: What is the editorial conception of the
primary function of the press? Franklin had received his early
newspaper training on his brother's New England Courant,
which frankly acknowledged entertainment as its primary
function and relegated news to a minor place. Of his contemporaries
in 1729, the oldest, the Boston News-Letter, held the
publication of news to be its sole function; while the Boston Gazette,
the New York Gazette, and the Maryland Gazette took
much the same attitude. In the main, they were rather dreary
reprints of stale European news. Bradford's American Weekly
Mercury, in Philadelphia, gave somewhat more attention to
local news; but with the exception of the Franklin-Breintnal
Busy-Body papers, contributed in 1728-1729 in order to bring
Keimer to his knees, the Mercury gave very little attention to
the entertainment function. Only the New England Weekly
Journal, carrying on something of the tradition of the old Courant,
dealt largely in entertainment as well as in news. This[lxii]
bi-functional policy was the one adopted by Franklin's Pennsylvania
Gazette, which was always readable and amusing at
the same time that it was newsy.
Of the editorial or opinion-forming function of newspapers
there was little evidence in Franklin's paper,[i-173] at least in the
field of politics. The obvious reason was the active governmental
censorship. It remained for John Peter Zenger to introduce
that function into colonial journalism in the New York
Weekly Journal in 1733: his struggle for the freedom of the
press is well known.[i-174] But the Pennsylvania Gazette never became
in any degree a political organ while Franklin edited it;
and his first political pronouncement was published not in his
paper but in a pamphlet, Plain Truth, issued just before his
retirement from editorial duties.
Two common misconceptions in regard to Franklin's newspaper
call for correction: (1) The Pennsylvania Gazette was not
connected as forerunner or ancestor with the Saturday Evening
Post. The Gazette, a newspaper to the end, closed its file in
1815;[i-175] the Post, a story paper, issued its Volume I, Number 1,
in 1821. Throughout much of the latter half of the nineteenth
century, the Post carried the legend "Founded in 1821" on its
front page; and not until after the Curtis Publishing Company
bought it in 1897 did it begin to print the words "Founded A.D.
1728 by Benjamin Franklin" on its cover. The sole connection
of the Post with Franklin lies in the fact that it was first issued[lxiii]
from an office at 53 Market Street which Franklin had once
occupied.[i-176] (2) Franklin did not publish a "chain" of newspapers.
A "chain" implies some kind of co-operative connection
between the various members, but the several papers which
Franklin helped to finance had no such relationship. In some he
was a six-years partner,[i-177] keeping his interest until the resident
publisher, usually a former employee, was established; to some
he made loans or, in the case of relatives, gifts.[i-178]
One of his journalistic ventures which is not mentioned in
the Autobiography is the General Magazine, of 1741. It missed
by three days being the first of American magazines: Andrew
Bradford had learned of Franklin's project and, with his American
Magazine, beat him in the race for priority. But the American
Magazine was a failure in three monthly numbers, while
Franklin's periodical, though more readable, died after its
sixth issue.[i-179] As an initial episode in the history of American
magazines, the General Magazine has a certain eminence; but
Franklin's neglect of it when writing his Autobiography, after
the events of nearly fifty busy years had apparently crowded it
out of his memory, is sufficient commentary on its unimportance.
To the end of his life Franklin was proud of his trade of
printing, with its handmaiden journalism. His last will and
testament begins: "I, Benjamin Franklin, Printer...." Though
clearly not the chief interest of his life, it was one to which he
was fundamentally and consistently attached.
[lxiv]
V. FRANKLIN'S ECONOMIC VIEWS
An eighteenth-century colonial who wrote on paper money,
interest, value, and insurance, who discussed a theory of population
and the economic aspects of the abolition of slavery, who
championed free trade, and who probably lent Adam Smith
some information used in his Wealth of Nations, who was an
empirical agriculturist, who was "half physiocratic before the
rise of the physiocratic school"—such a colonial has, indeed,
claims to being America's pioneer economist.
Franklin's hatred of negro slavery was conditioned by more
than his humanitarian bias. It may be seen that his indictments
of black cargoes were the resultant of an interplay of his convictions
that economically slavery was enervating and dear
and of his abstract sense of religious and ethical justice. One
should not minimize, however, his distrust of slavery on other
than economic bases. He was acutely influenced by the Quakers
of his colony who, like gadflies, were stinging slaveholders to
an awareness of their blood traffic, and by the rise of English
humanitarianism. In his youth he had published (first edition,
1729; second, 1730), with no little danger to himself and his
business, Ralph Sandiford's A Brief Examination of the
Practice of the Times, an Amos-like vituperative attack on
the "unrighteous Gain" of slaveholding. He also published
works of Benjamin Lay and John Woolman.[i-180] Friend of
Anthony Benezet, Benjamin Rush, Fothergill, and Granville
Sharp, and after 1760 a member of Dr. Bray's Associates,
he lent his voice and pen to denouncing slavery on religious
and ethical grounds; and in England, after the James Sommersett[lxv]
trial (1772), he "began to agitate for parliamentary
action" toward the abolishing of slavery in all parts of the British
Empire.[i-181] Following the Sommersett verdict, Franklin contributed
a brief article to the London Chronicle (June 18-20,
1772) in which he denounced the "constant butchery of the
human species by this pestilential detestable traffic in the bodies
and souls of men."[i-182] Losing his temperamental urbanity when
observing "the diabolical Commerce,"[i-183] "the abominable
African Trade," he recollects approvingly that a certain French
moralist[i-184] could "not look on a piece of sugar without conceiving
it stained with spots of human blood!"[i-185] Conditioned by
Quakerism, by his deism, which suggested that "the most
acceptable Service we render him [God] is doing good to his
other Children," and by the eighteenth century's growing repugnance
toward suffering and pain,[i-186] Franklin (although he
took little part in legislating against slavery in Pennsylvania)
became through his writing a model to be imitated, especially
in France, by a people more intent on becoming humane than
saintly.
His letter to Anthony Benezet (London, July 14, 1773), however,
clearly indicates that for economic, as well as humanitarian
reasons, he had sought freedom for slaves:
I am glad to hear that such humane Sentiments prevail so
much more generally than heretofore, that there is Reason to
hope our Colonies may in time get clear of a Practice that[lxvi]
disgraces them, and, without producing any equivalent Benefit,
is dangerous to their very Existence.[i-187]
Franklin's view of the economic disabilities of slavery is best
expressed in Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind,
Peopling of Countries, Etc. (1751). Arguing against British restraint
of colonial manufactures, he observed that "'tis an ill-grounded
Opinion that by the Labour of slaves, America may
possibly vie in Cheapness of Manufactures with Britain. The
Labour of Slaves can never be so cheap here as the Labour of
working Men is in Britain."[i-188] With arithmetic based on empirical
scrutiny of existing conditions, resembling the mode of economists
following Adam Smith, he charged that slaves are economically
unprofitable due to the rate of interest in the colonies,
their initial price, their insurance and maintenance, their negligence
and malevolence.[i-189] In addition, "Slaves ... pejorate the
Families that use them; the white Children become proud, disgusted
with Labour, and being educated in Idleness, are rendered
unfit to get a Living by Industry."[i-190] Slaves are hardly
economical investments in terms of colonial character. Looking
to the "English Sugar Islands" where Negroes "have greatly
diminish'd the Whites," and deprived the poor of employment,
"while a few Families acquire vast Estates," he realized that
"population was limited by means of subsistence,"[i-191] which
foreshadowed the more pessimistic progressions of Malthus.
Having just maintained that "our People must at least be
doubled every 20 Years,"[i-192] and intuitively suspecting that
the means for subsistence progress more slowly, he exclaimed,
"Why increase the Sons of Africa, by planting them in America,
where we have so fair an Opportunity, by excluding all Blacks
and Tawneys, of increasing the lovely White and Red?"[i-193] He
saw mere economic extravagance as the short-time effect of[lxvii]
slavery; he feared that the long-time effect would be to create an
aristocracy subsisting at the head of a vast brood of slaves and
poor whites.[i-194]
It was inevitable in a state having no staple crop, such as rice,
sugar, tobacco, or cotton, which offered at least economic justification
for negro slavery, that abolition of slaves should be
urged partially on purely economic grounds, and that Pennsylvania
should have been the first colony to legislate in favor of
abolition, in 1780. Although one may feel that economic determinism
is overly simple and audacious in its doctrinaire interpretations,
one can not refuse to see the extent to which economics
tended to buttress humane and religious factors in
Franklin's mind to make him a persuasive champion of
abolition.[i-195]
A Modest Enquiry into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper
Currency[i-196] has been appraised as "by far the ablest and most
original treatise that had been written on the subject up to 1728[lxviii]
and was probably the most widely read work on paper currency
that appeared in colonial America."[i-197] That Franklin's interest
in paper money was not unique, one may gather from the fact
that between 1714 and 1721 "nearly thirty pamphlets appeared"
on this subject in Massachusetts alone.[i-198] One of the 1728
theses at Harvard, answered in the affirmative, was: "Does the
issue of paper money contribute to the public good?"[i-199] "Since
there was a scarcity of circulating medium, caused by the
constant drain of specie for export," explains Mr. D. R.
Dewey, "it is not strange that projects for converting credit
into wealth should have sprung up in the colonies."[i-200]
Franklin argued in his Modest Enquiry[i-201] that (1) "A plentiful
Currency will occasion Interest to be low," (2) it "will
occasion the Trading Produce to bear a good Price," (3)
it "will encourage great Numbers of labouring and Handicrafts
Men to come and settle in the Country," and (4) it "will
occasion a less consumption of European Goods, in proportion
to the Number of the People." Thus he saw paper money as
a "Morrison's Pill," promising to cure all economic ills.[i-202] It
has been suggested that as a printer Franklin naturally would
favor issues of paper money. In view of his later apostasy one
should note that in this essay Franklin apparently accepted the
current mercantilist notions, best expressed here in his conviction
that paper money will secure a favorable balance of trade.[lxix]
Demands for emissions of paper money were inevitable in a
colony in the grip of such a restrictive commercial policy as
British mercantilism. It must be observed, however, that Franklin
differed from the proper mercantilists to the extent that
simple valuable metals were not to be measures of value. Deriving
his idea from Sir William Petty, Franklin took labor as the
true measure of value,[i-203]—a position later held by Karl Marx. In
his preoccupation with the growth of manufactures and favorable
balances of trade, Franklin gave no suggestions that at
least by 1767 he was to become an exponent of agrarianism and
free trade. One wonders to what extent his warnings against
the purchase of "unnecessary Householdstuff, or any superfluous
thing," his inveterate emphasis on industry and frugality,
were conditioned by his view that such indulgence would essentially
cause a preponderance of imports, hence casting against
them an unfavorable trade balance.[i-204]
In 1751 Parliament passed an act regulating in the New England
colonies the issue of paper money and preventing them
"from adding a legal tender clause thereto"; in 1764 Parliament
forbade issue of legal tender money in any of the colonies. As a
member of the Pennsylvania assembly, Franklin had successfully
sponsored issues of paper money; in London, following the
1764 act, he urged that one of the causes breeding disrespect for
Parliament was "the prohibition of making paper money among
[us]."[i-205] Economics blends into politics when we remember that
the 1764 restraining legislation was "one of the factors in the
subsequent separation, for it caused some of the suffering that[lxx]
inevitably follows in the wake of an unsound monetary policy
whose onward course is suddenly checked."[i-206] In 1766 Franklin
was yet an ardent imperialist, who sought politically and
economically to keep whole "that fine and noble China Vase,
the British Empire." His Remarks and Facts Concerning
American Paper Money (1767), in answer to Lord Hillsborough's
Board of Trade report circulated among British merchants,
is an ardent plea for legal tender paper money. He
argued that British merchants (since yearly trade balances had
regularly been in their favor) had not been deprived of gold and
silver, that paper money had worked in the Colonies,[i-207] and that
British merchants had lost no more in their colonial dealings
than was inevitable in war times. Franklin concluded that since
there were no mines in the colonies, paper money was a necessity
(arguing here very shrewdly that even English silver "is obliged
to the legal Tender for Part of its Value"). Hence, at least for
colonies deserving it, the mother country should take off the restraint
on legal tender. What Franklin seems not to have known
and what the merchants had actually felt (they had their accounts
staring at them) was that in the past, especially after 1750, much
of the legal tender was in effect nothing but inconvertible fiat
money. Mr. Carey quotes from an uncollected item, Franklin's
"The Legal Tender of Paper Money in America," in which he
threatened that "if the colonies were not allowed to issue legal-tender
notes there was no way in which they could retain hard
money except by boycotting English goods."[i-208] Franklin suggested
(to S. Cooper, April 22, 1779) that depreciation may
not be unmixed evil, since it may be viewed as a tax: "It should[lxxi]
always be remembered, that the original Intention was to sink
the Bills by Taxes, which would as effectually extinguish the
Debt as an actual Redemption."[i-209] Not a little Machiavellian
for one who was not blind to the sanctity of contracts!
With the Revolution and the attendant depreciation in currency,
Franklin tended to warn against over-issues.[i-210] Like
Governor Hutchinson, who said that "the morals of the
people depreciate with the currency," Franklin confessed in
1783 "the many Mischiefs, the injustices, the Corruption of
Manners, &c., &c., that attended a depreciating Currency."[i-211]
There is no evidence to show that Franklin dissented from the
conservative prohibition in the Constitutional Convention of
1787 against issues of legal tender paper.[i-212]
Deborah Logan (in a letter in 1829) stated that Franklin
"once told Dr. Logan that the celebrated Adam Smith, when
writing his 'Wealth of Nations,' was in the habit of bringing
chapter after chapter as he composed it, to himself, Dr. Price
and others of the literati; then patiently hear [sic] their observations,
and profit by their discussion and criticism—even sometimes
submitting to write whole chapters anew, and even to reverse
some of his propositions."[i-213] James Parton observed that
the allusions to the colonies which "constitute the experimental
evidence of the essential truth of the book" were supplied by
Franklin.[i-214] But Rae reasonably counters: "It ought of course
to be borne in mind that Smith had been in the constant habit of
hearing much about the American Colonies and their affairs[lxxii]
during his thirteen years in Glasgow from the intelligent merchants
and returned planters of that city."[i-215]
In general, we may conclude that Franklin and Smith were
exponents of free trade in proportion as they were reactionaries
against British mercantilism. Each in his reaction tended to
elevate the function of agriculture beyond reasonable limits.
Unlike the physiocrats and Franklin, however, Adam Smith did
not hold that, in terms of wealth-producing, manufacturers
were sterile. Even if Franklin saw only agriculture as productive,
he was not blind to the utility of manufactures, especially after
the break with the mother country, when he realized that home
industry must be developed to supply the colonial needs
formerly satisfied by British exports.[i-216]
Finally, each was, in varying degrees, an exponent of laissez[lxxiii]
faire.[i-217] Since we shall discover that politically Franklin was less
a democrat than is often supposed, we may feel that his belief in
free trade led him to embrace reservedly the principle of laissez
faire, rather than that free trade, an economic concept, was but a
fragment of a larger dogma, namely, that government should be
characterized by its passivity, frugality, and maximum negligence.
V. L. Parrington quotes[i-218] from George Whately's
Principles of Trade, which contained views congenial to Franklin:
When Colbert assembled some wise old merchants of France,
and desired their advice and opinion, how he could best serve
and promote commerce, their answer, after consultation, was,
in three words only, Laissez-nous faire: "Let us alone." It is
said by a very solid writer of the same nation, that he is well
advanced in the science of politics, who knows the full force of
that maxim. Pas trop gouverner: "Not to govern too much!"
which, perhaps, would be of more use when applied to trade, than
in any other public concern. (Present editors' italics.)
Laissez faire in Franklin's as in Whately's view tended to be
synonymous with free trade. Laissez faire was suggested by
his insistence on free trade, as he progressively expressed his
antipathy for mercantilism, rather than that free trade was simply[lxxiv]
a natural deduction from a more inclusive economic-political
dogma.
Writing to the pro-colonial Jonathan Shipley, Bishop of St.
Asaph, whose "sweet Retirement" at Twyford he had long
enjoyed, Franklin, seeing no hopes of a reconciliation between
the colonies and Great Britain, uttered what marked him as
the first American disciple of Quesnay's school of economic
thought: "Agriculture is the great Source of Wealth and Plenty.
By cutting off our Trade you have thrown us to the Earth,
whence like Antaeus we shall rise yearly with fresh Strength
and Vigour."[i-219] Upon learning of the colonists' "Resolutions
of Non-Importation" he wrote to "Cousin" Folger
that they must promote their own industries, especially those
of the "Earth and their Sea, the true Sources of Wealth and
Plenty."[i-220] Learning that the colonists had threatened to boycott
English manufacturers by creating their own basic industries,
Franklin demurred in a letter to Cadwallader Evans: "Agriculture
is truly productive of new wealth; manufacturers only
change forms, and whatever value they give to the materials
they work upon, they in the mean time consume an equal value
in provisions, &c. So that riches are not increased by manufacturing;
the only advantage is, that provisions in the shape of
manufactures are more easily carried for sale to foreign markets."[i-221]
Positions to be Examined, Concerning National
Wealth[i-222] affords a succinct statement of Franklin's agrarianism.
"There seem to be but three ways for a nation to acquire
wealth. The first is by war, as the Romans did, in plundering
their conquered neighbours. This is robbery. The second by
commerce, which is generally cheating. The third by agriculture,[lxxv]
the only honest way, wherein man receives a real increase of the
seed thrown into the ground, in a kind of continual miracle,
wrought by the hand of God in his favour, as a reward for his
innocent life and his virtuous industry."[i-223] Dupont de Nemours,
as early as 1769, had written: "Who does not know that the English
have today their Benjamin Franklin, who has adopted the
principles and the doctrines of our French economists?"[i-224]
Before attempting to appraise the real indebtedness of Franklin to
the physiocrats, it is well to seek to learn how he came in contact
with their ideas, and especially why by the year 1767 he was
acutely susceptible to their doctrine. In the summer of 1767, in
the company of Sir John Pringle, Franklin went to Paris, not an
unknown figure to the French savants, who were acquainted
with his scientific papers already translated into French by
D'Alibard. That he was feted by the Newtons of the physiocrats,
François Quesnay and the elder Mirabeau, as "le Savant,
le Geomètre, le Physicien, l'homme à qui la nature permet de
dévoiler ses secrets,"[i-225] we are assured, when to De Nemours
(July 28, 1768) he writes regretfully: "Be so good as to present
my sincere respect to that venerable apostle, Dr. Quesnay, and
to the illustrious Ami des Hommes (of whose civilities to me at
Paris I retain a grateful remembrance)...."[i-226] Having missed
Franklin in Paris (1767), De Nemours had sent Franklin "un
recueil des principaux traités économiques du Docteur Quesnay"
and his own Physiocratie (1768), which cast him in the role
"of a propagandist of Physiocratie doctrines."[i-227] Franklin
admitted, "I am perfectly charmed with them, and wish I
could have stayed in France for some time, to have studied in[lxxvi]
your school, that I might by conversing with its founders have
made myself quite a master of that philosophy."[i-228] That Franklin
was not before 1767 unacquainted with the Économistes we
learn when he tells Dupont de Nemours that Dr. Templeman
had shown him the De Nemours-Templeman correspondence
when the latter was Secretary of the London Society for the
Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce. A
second trip to Paris (in 1769) to confer with Barbeu Dubourg,
an avowed physiocrat, concerning his forthcoming translation
of Franklin's works, served to acquaint him still further with
the doctrines of the new school.
Franklin's agrarianism[i-229] is congruent with physiocracy[i-230] in
as far as he observed that agriculture alone, of the many industries,
produced a surplus of wealth after all of the expenses of
production had been paid.[i-231] Each laborer produced more than[lxxvii]
enough to satisfy his own needs. This surplus the Économistes
termed the produit net. A worker in manufactures, it was assumed,
consumed foodstuffs and other materials in proportion
to the value he created in his manufacturing process. Hence
there obviously could be no produit net accruing from manufactures.
Like the physiocrats, Franklin felt that manufactures
were sterile, to the extent that no new wealth was created. The
physiocrats believed, however, that laborers in manufacturing
industries could create a produit net if they stinted themselves in
consuming foodstuffs, et cetera, but it was argued that this prudential
asceticism was not a characteristic habit. To this extent
at least the physiocrats were empirical.
Free trade no less than agrarianism characterized physiocracy.
Although Franklin indicated his antagonism toward governmental
restraint of trade, internal and among nations, in his
antipathy toward British mercantilism, it was not until after he
became impregnated with French doctrine that he began to express
very fully his advocacy of free trade. After Connecticut
imposed a 5% duty on goods imported from neighboring
colonies, Franklin wrote to Jared Eliot in 1747 that it was likely
that the duty would devolve on the consumer and be "only another
mode of Taxing" the purchaser. In addition he recognized
that smuggling, virtually a colonial art, would cause the
"fair Trader" to "be undersold and ruined."[i-232] He urged that[lxxviii]
the import duty might suggest selfishness, and might also tend
to deter Connecticut commerce. Here, it must be admitted,
Franklin did not sanction free trade with a priori appeals to the
"natural order," the key in the arch of physiocracy. He rather
appealed to the instincts and observations of the prudential
tradesman. His Plan for Regulating Indian Affairs (1766), unlike
his 1747 letters, suggested (if it did not express concretely)
inviolable laws of commerce in the words: "It seems contrary
to the Nature of Commerce, for Government to interfere
in the Prices of Commodities.... It therefore seems to me,
that Trade will best find and make its own Rates; and that Government
cannot well interfere, unless it would take the whole
Trade into its own hands ... and manage it by its own Servants
at its own Risque."[i-233] To Dupont de Nemours he admitted that
British mercantilism had not achieved "that wisdom which sees
the welfare of the parts in the prosperity of the whole."[i-234] To
Sir Edward Newenham, representing the County of Dublin, he
expressed admiration for Irish efforts to secure freedom of commerce,
"which is the right of all mankind." "To enjoy all the
advantages of the climate, soil, and situation in which God and
nature have placed us, is as clear a right as that of breathing; and
can never be justly taken from men but as a punishment for
some atrocious crime."[i-235] Three years before he met Quesnay
(though after he had read Dupont de Nemours's letters to
Templeman), Franklin sanctioned free trade through appeal to
other than utilitarian prudence: first he admitted that British restraint
of colonial commerce, for example with the West Indies,
will tend to prevent colonists from making remittances for[lxxix]
British manufactured goods, since "The Cat can yield but her
skin." Then with a suggestion of philosophic generalization he
hoped that "In time perhaps Mankind may be wise enough to
let Trade take its own Course, find its own Channels, and regulate
its own Proportions, etc."[i-236] Restraint of manufactures
"deprive[s] us of the Advantage God & Nature seem to have intended
us.... So selfish is the human Mind! But 'tis well there
is One above that rules these Matters with a more equal Hand.
He that is pleas'd to feed the Ravens, will undoubtedly take
care to prevent a Monopoly of the Carrion."[i-237] Glorifying the
husbandman and suggesting that trade restrictions disturb a
natural order, Franklin wrote to David Hartley in 1783 that
Great Britain has tended to impede "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."[i-238]
That Franklin was not without his influence in eighteenth-century
economic thought we may gather from Dugald Stewart's
opinion that "the expressions laissez-faire and, pas trop gouverner
are indebted chiefly for their extensive circulation to the short
and luminous comments of Franklin, which had so extraordinary
an influence on public opinion in the old and new[lxxx]
world."[i-239] Mr. Carey maintains that Franklin, unlike the physiocrats,
inveighed against trade regulations because they led to
smuggling rather than because to any important degree they
violated the "natural order." The physiocrats are tenuous,
amorphous, and ambiguous when they seek to define L'Ordre
naturel. At times Dupont de Nemours seems to identify it
with a primitivistic past.[i-240] Quesnay, on the other hand, says:
"Natural right is indeterminate in a state of nature. The right
only appears when justice and labour have been established."[i-241]
Again, he asserts: "By entering society and making conventions
for their mutual advantage men increase the scope of natural
right without incurring any restriction of their liberties, for this
is just the state of things that enlightened reason would have
chosen."[i-242] Natural order is a "providential order": "Its laws
are irrevocable, pertaining as they do to the essence of matter
and the soul of humanity. They are just the expression of the
will of God."[i-243] According to the physiocrats, the laws of the
natural order are "unique, eternal, invariable, and universal."[i-244]
Now it is true that nowhere did Franklin assert that his advocacy
of laissez faire and agrarianism was neatly dependent on
these a priori bases. Even though this is true, there are references
(quoted above) which seem to suggest that trade restrictions are
violations of the very nature of things. It is not wholly fanciful
(bearing in mind Franklin's adoration of a Deity who is the creator
and sustainer of immutable, universal physical laws which
together present the mind with the concept of a vast, wonderfully
harmonized physical machine) to conjecture to what extent
this matchless physical harmony tended to challenge him with
the possibility of discovering a parallel economic machine
operating according to immutable laws capable of proof and
human adaptability.
[lxxxi]
O. H. Taylor has shown that "The evolution of the idea of
'laws' in economics has closely paralleled its evolution in the
natural sciences."[i-245] In searching for these economic constants,
"the economic mechanism was regarded as a wise device of the
Creator for causing individuals, while pursuing only their own
interests, to promote the prosperity of society; and for causing
the right adjustment to one another of supplies, demand, prices,
and incomes, to take place automatically, in consequence of the
free action of all individuals."[i-246] After giving due weight to the
fact that Franklin saw in the doctrine of the physiocrats trenchant
arguments to buttress his attacks on British mercantilism,
one has cogent evidence for at least raising the question, To
what extent may his apprehension of a demonstrable physical
harmony have suggested to his speculative mind an economic
analogy?[i-247]
[lxxxii]
VI. FRANKLIN'S POLITICAL THEORIES
Plague of the Pennsylvania proprietaries, propagandist of the
American Revolution, moderator of the Constitutional Convention,
Franklin was all through his life a politician and statesman
in an age characterized above all by political speculations
and changes in the destiny of states. Colonial patriot, "arch
rebel of King George III," "idol of the court of Versailles,"
Franklin was a cyclopedia of political strategy and principles.
Only through a genetic survey of Franklin the political theorist
can one hope to understand his mind as he changed from
imperialist, to revolutionist, to the patriarch of the Constitutional
Convention who, like a balance wheel, moderated the extreme
party factions.
In the early 1720's, Franklin had breathed a Boston air
saturated with discontent between the royal governor and the
governed. By 1730 he was printer to the Pennsylvania Assembly
and in 1736 was appointed clerk to that body. Yet one
learns little of his political biases until 1747, when he published
Plain Truth. In 1729 he genially asserted that he was "no
Party-man,"[i-248] and in 1746 temperately stated,
Free from the bitter Rage of Party Zeal,
All those we love who seek the publick Weal.[i-249]
His Plain Truth (November, 1747), directed against the proprietary
governor as well as against the Quaker assembly,
showed Franklin a party man only if one dedicated to "the
publick weal" was a party man. With all respect for the Quaker
conscience which checks military activity, Franklin could not,
however, condone its virtually prohibiting others from defending[lxxxiii]
the province's border. And the proprietaries had shown
an inveterate unwillingness to arm Pennsylvania—a reluctance
which did not, however, prevent them from collecting taxes and
quitrents. On other questions the governor and his chiefs
had to contend with the opposition of the assembly. Without
opposition, the proprietary government could serenely kennel
itself in its medieval privilege of remaining dumb to an urgent
need: one remembers that eighteenth-century proprietary
colonies were "essentially feudal principalities, upon the grantees
of which were bestowed all the inferior regalities and subordinate
powers of legislation which formerly belonged to the
counts palatine, while provision was also made for the maintenance
of sovereignty in the king [the king paid little attention
to Pennsylvania], and for the realization of the objects of the
grant."[i-250] While the government remained inert, Pennsylvania
would be a pawn in the steeled hands of the French and their
rum-subsidized Indian mercenaries. Appealing to Scripture
and common sense, Franklin pleaded for "Order, Discipline,
and a few Cannon."[i-251] Not untruthfully he warned that "we
are like the separate Filaments of Flax before the Thread is
form'd, without Strength, because without Connection, but
Union would make us strong, and even formidable."[i-252] Since
war existed, there was no need to consider him a militarist
because he challenged, "The Way to secure Peace is to be prepared
for War."[i-253] In the midst of Plain Truth Franklin uttered
what only before the time of Locke could be interpreted in
terms of feudal comitatus: he entreated his readers to consider,
"if not as Friends, at least as Legislators, that Protection is as
truly due from the Government to the People, as Obedience
from the People to the Government."[i-254] Suggestive of the contract
theory, this is revolutionary only in a very elementary[lxxxiv]
way. With the French writhing under the Treaty of Paris, with
appeals to natural rights and the right of revolution, this once
harmless principle took on Gargantuan significance. But Thomas
Penn anticipated wisely enough the ultimate implication of
Franklin's paper; Penn intuitively saw the march of time: "Mr.
Franklin's doctrine that obedience to governors is no more due
them than protection to the people, is not fit to be in the heads
of the unthinking multitude. He is a dangerous man and I
should be glad if he inhabited any other country, as I believe
him of a very uneasy spirit. However, as he is a sort of tribune
of the people, he must be treated with regard."[i-255] It is difficult
to see how Franklin's passion for order and provincial union,[i-256]
obviously necessary, could have been considered so illiberally
subversive of the government. By 1747 Franklin had read in
Telemachus that kings exist for the people, not the people for
the kings; he must have read Locke's justification of the "Glorious
Revolution" and have become aware of the impetus it gave
to the British authority of consent in its subsequent constitutional
history.
After his first political pamphlet, he widened his horizon from
provincial to colonial affairs. Two years before the London
Board of Trade demanded that colonial governors hold a conference
with the Iroquois, Franklin seems to have devised plans
for uniting the several colonies. He was aware of the narrow
particularism shown by the provinces; he knew also that since
"Governors are often on ill Terms with their Assemblies," no
concerted military efforts could be achieved without a military[lxxxv]
federation.[i-257] One remembers that as soon as he could think
politically he was an imperialist, a lesser William Pitt, and in his
Increase of Mankind (1751) could gloat over an envisioned
thickly populated America—"What an Accession of Power to
the British Empire by Sea as well as Land!"[i-258] When the Board
of Trade, after British efforts to bring the colonies together had
failed, demanded that something be done, Franklin was appointed
one of the commissioners to meet at Albany in 1754.
Like Franklin, Governor Glen had admitted that the colonies
were "a Rope of Sand ... loose and inconnected."[i-259] Franklin's
plan, adopted by the commissioners, called for a Governor-General
"appointed by the king" and a Grand Council made up
of members chosen by the Assembly of each of the colonies, the
Governor "to have a negation on all acts of the Grand Council,
and carry into execution whatever is agreed on by him and that
Council."[i-260] Surely not a very auspicious beginning for one
who later was to favor the legislative over the executive functions
of state. The plan included the powers of making Indian
treaties of peace and war, of regulating Indian trade and Indian
purchases, of stimulating the settling of new lands, of making
laws to govern new areas, of raising soldiers, of laying general
duties, et cetera.[i-261] But Franklin did not minimize the lack of
cohesion of the colonies. We recollect that "in 1755, at a time[lxxxvi]
when their very existence was threatened by the French, Massachusetts
and New York engaged in a bitter boundary controversy
leading to riot and bloodshed."[i-262] The colonies refused
to ratify the plan—"their weak Noddles are perfectly
distracted,"[i-263] wrote Franklin. He was probably right when he
observed in 1789 that had the plan been adopted "the subsequent
Separation of the Colonies from the Mother Country
might not so soon have happened."[i-264] The sending of British
regulars to America and the resulting efforts at taxation were not
least among the sparks which set off the Revolution.
Franklin's Three Letters to Governor Shirley (1754), while
expressing no credulous views of the wisdom of the people,
maintained in one breath that the colonists were loyal to the
Constitution and Crown as ever colonists were and in another
that "it is supposed an undoubted right of Englishmen, not to
be taxed but by their own consent given through their representatives."[i-265]
(Shirley had apparently written that the Council
in the Albany Plan should be appointed by England, and
not by the colonial assemblies.) Franklin held for the colonists'
right to English civil liberty and the right to enjoy the
Constitution. Here again we find a factor later magnified into
one of the major causes of the Revolution.
In addition to being lethargic in the defense of the Pennsylvania
borders, the proprietor refused "to be taxed except for
a trifling Part of his Estate, the Quitrents, located unimprov'd
Lands, Money at Interest, etc., etc., being exempted by Instructions
to the Governor."[i-266] Thereupon Franklin turned from[lxxxvii]
colonial affairs (which had indeed proved obstinate) to pressing
local matters, when in 1757 he was appointed agent to go to London
to demand that the proprietor submit his estates to be taxed.
In the Report of the Committee of Aggrievances of the Assembly
of Pennsylvania[i-267] (Feb. 22, 1757) it was charged that the proprietor
had violated the royal charter and the colonists' civil
rights as Englishmen, and had abrogated their natural rights,
rights "inherent in every man, antecedent to all laws."[i-268]
Later it was but a short step from provincial matters to
colonial rights of revolution. In this Report we see Franklin
associated for the first time expressly with the throne-and-altar-defying
concept of natural rights.
Although we have yet to review the evidence which shows
that Franklin at one stage in his political career was an arch-imperialist,
we need to digress to observe an intellectual factor
which, if only fragmentarily expressed in his political thought
during his activities in behalf of Pennsylvania liberties, was to
become a momentous sanction when during the war he became
a diplomat of revolution. From the Stoics, from Cicero, Grotius,
Puffendorf, Burlamaqui, and as Rev. Jonathan Mayhew[i-269]
observes, from Plato and Demosthenes, from Sidney, Milton,
Hoadley, and Locke; in addition, from Gordon and Trenchard
(see Cato's Letters and The Independent Whig), Blackstone,
Coke—from these and many others, the colonists derived a
pattern of thought known as natural rights, dependent on natural
law.[i-270] There is no better summary of natural rights[lxxxviii]
than the Declaration of Independence; and of it John Adams
remarked: "There is not an idea in it but what has been hackneyed
in Congress for two years before."[i-271] Carl Becker pointedly
observes: "Where Jefferson got his ideas is hardly so
much a question as where he could have got away from
them."[i-272] A characteristic summary of natural law may be
found in Blackstone's Commentaries:[i-273]
This law of nature being coeval with mankind, and dictated
by God himself, is of course superior in obligation to any
other. It is binding over all the globe, in all countries and at all
times: no human laws are of any validity, if contrary to this;
and such of them as are valid derive all their force and all their
authority, mediately or immediately, from this original.[i-274]
Discoverable only by reason, natural laws are immutable and
universal, apprehensible by all men. As Hamilton wrote,
The origin of all civil government, justly established, must be
a voluntary compact between the rulers and the ruled, and must
be liable to such limitations as are necessary for the security of
the absolute rights of the latter; for what original title can any
man, or set of men, have to govern others, except their own
consent? To usurp dominion over a people in their own despite,
or to grasp at a more extensive power than they are willing to
intrust, is to violate that law of nature which gives every man
a right to his personal liberty, and can therefore confer no
obligation to obedience.[i-275]
[lxxxix]
In a pre-social state, real or hypothetical, men possess certain
natural rights, the crown of them, according to Locke,[i-276] being
"the mutual preservation of their lives, liberties, and estates,
which I call by the general name, property." In entering the
social state men through free consent are willing to sacrifice
fragments of their natural rights in order to gain civil rights.
This process would seem tyrannical were one to forget that
the surrender is sanctioned by the principle of consent. Men in
sacrificing their rights expect from society (i.e., the governors)
civil rights and, in addition, protection of their unsurrendered
natural rights. A voluntary compact is achieved between the
governor and the governed. If laws are fabricated which contravene
these, the governed have retained for themselves the right
of forcible resistance. A natural inference from these premises
is that sovereignty rests with the people. In the colonies this
secular social compact was buttressed by the principle of covenants
and natural rights within the churches. Sermons became
"textbooks of politics."[i-277] Miss Baldwin has ably illustrated
how before 1763 the clergy in Franklin's native New England[xc]
had popularized the "doctrines of natural right, the social contract,
and the right of resistance" as well as "the fundamental
principle of American constitutional law, that government,
like its citizens, is bounded by law and when it transcends its
authority it acts illegally."[i-278]
In an oration commemorating the Boston massacre Dr. Benjamin
Church stated the principle of the compact: "A sense of
their wants and weakness in a state of nature, doubtless inclined
them to such reciprocal aids and support, as eventually established
society."[i-279] Defining liberty as "the happiness of living
under laws of our own making by our personal consent or that
of our representatives,"[i-280] he warned that any breach of trust
in the governor "effectually absolves subjects from every bond
of covenant and peace."[i-281]
Then, too, Newtonian science buttressed the principle of
natural rights. Sir Isaac Newton demonstrated mathematically
that the universe was governed by a fagot of immutable, universal,
and harmonious physical laws. These were capable of
being apprehended through reason. Now even as reason discovered
the matchless physical harmony, so could reason, men
argued, ferret out unvarying, universal principles of social-political
rights. These principles constituted natural rights,
natural to the extent that all men had the power, if not the capacity,
to discover and learn them through use of their native
reason. Newton demonstrated the validity of physical law:
Locke sanctioned the supremacy of reason. Since Franklin[xci]
was himself motivated by Newtonian rationalism and was a
student of Locke, there is reason to believe that he was vibrantly
aware of the extent to which the scientific-rationalistic
ideology lent sanction to man's timeless quest for the certitude
of "natural rights," antecedent to all laws.
Franklin's mission to London in 1757 as Pennsylvania agent
may be understood through an examination of An Historical
Review of the Constitution and Government of Pennsylvania (London,
1759).[i-282] If not written by him, at least "the ideas are his."
Convinced that the proprietors "seem to have no regard to the
Publick Welfare, so the private Point may be gained—'Tis like
Firing a House to have Opportunity of stealing a Trencher,"[i-283]
Franklin knew that a brilliant attack had to be made were
he to intimidate the proprietary government into assuming
its charter responsibilities and granting the colonists what
they considered to be inviolable rights. By 1758 his "Patience
with the Proprietors is almost tho' not quite spent."[i-284] A few
months later, impatient with unresponsive officials, he wrote
to Joseph Galloway: "God knows when we shall see it finish'd,
and our Constitution settled firmly on the Foundation of Equity
and English Liberty: But I am not discouraged; and only wish
my Constituents may have the Patience that I have, and that I
find will be absolutely necessary."[i-285] In 1759 Franklin still
found the proprietors "obscure, uncertain and evasive," and
was acutely virulent in despising Rev. William Smith, who was
in London attacking him and the Quaker Assembly's demands.[i-286][xcii]
In the same letter to Galloway he uttered a thought
which he sought to develop during his second trip to London
as Assembly agent in 1764: "For my part, I must own, I am
tired of Proprietary Government, and heartily wish for that
of the Crown."
Turning to An Historical Review to learn the political principles
sanctioning the Assembly's grievances against its feudal
lords, one finds that the colonists conceived it "our duty to
defend the rights and privileges we enjoy under the royal
charter."[i-287] Secondly, they reminded the lords that the laws
agreed upon in England (prior to the settling of Pennsylvania)
were "of the nature of an original compact between the proprietary
and the freemen, and as such were reciprocally received
and executed."[i-288] Thirdly, they demanded the right to exercise
the "birthright of every British subject," "to have a property
of [their] own, in [their] estate, person, and reputation; subject
only to laws enacted by [their] own concurrence, either in
person or by [their] representatives."[i-289] Fourthly, they resisted
the proprietors on basis of their possession of natural rights,
"antecedent to all laws."[i-290] The editor of the protest charged
that "It is the cause of every man who deserves to be free,
everywhere."[i-291] It is ironic that this grievance should have
enjoyed the sanction of one who, like Lord Chatham, was an
empire builder, one who proudly wrote, "I am a Briton," and
even during the time he sought to retrieve the Pennsylvania
colonists' lost natural rights, entertained the ideas of a British
imperialist. Franklin little saw that the internal Pennsylvania
struggle was to be contagious, that the provincial revolt was
motivated partially at least by political theories which were to be
given expression par excellence when a discontented minority
created the Declaration of Independence. In 1760 Franklin[xciii]
had the satisfaction of witnessing the victory of the Assembly
over the Proprietors, although he was not unaware that the
right to tax feudal lands was less than that right he had already
envisioned—the right to become a royal colony.[i-292]
But Franklin's pleas for charter, constitutional, and natural
rights may be misleading if one considers his position as suggestive
of doctrinaire republicanism, of Paine's "Government is
the badge of our lost innocence," or of Shelley's
Kings, priests, and statesmen blast the human flower.
His political activities assert the rights of the governed against
the governor; his writings often indirectly suggest the intemperance
of the governed, and the need for something more
lasting than mere outer freedom. Like Coleridge, who wrote:
[Man] may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within,
white-locked Father Abraham harangued:
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.[i-293]
[xciv]
With solid good sense Franklin acknowledged that "happiness
in this life rather depends on internals than externals."[i-294]
His purpose for being in London accomplished, Franklin
wrote The Interest of Great Britain Considered with Regard to
Her Colonies, and the Acquisitions of Canada and Guadaloupe
(1760). Since "there is evidence that the pamphlet created much
contemporary interest,"[i-295] Franklin undoubtedly had some influence
in causing the retention of Canada, a retention which
"made the American Revolution inevitable."[i-296] If the release
from French terrorism caused the colonists to become myopic
toward advantages lent them as a British colony, it is appropriate
in view of Franklin's later advocacy of independence and
ironic in view of his then imperialistic principles, that he should
have written The Interest of Great Britain. Here Franklin,
later to be a propagandist of revolution, cast himself in the role
of architect of a vast empire. For economic reasons, and for
colonial safety, he urged the retention, ridiculing the charge that
the colonies were lying in wait to declare their independence
from England, if the French were cast out from Canada.
Back in Pennsylvania in 1764 he declared the provincial government
"running fast into anarchy and confusion."[i-297] In his
Cool Thoughts on the Present Situation of Our Public Affairs
(1764) he set up a sturdy antagonism between "Proprietary
Interest and Power, and Popular Liberty." Unlike the "lunatic
fringe" of liberals who see "Popular Liberty compatible only
with a tendency toward anarchy" Franklin urged that the Pennsylvania
government lacked "Authority enough to keep the
common Peace."[i-298] The constitutional nature of proprietary
government had lost dignity and hence "suffers in the Opinion[xcv]
of the People, and with it the Respect necessary to keep up the
Authority of Government." Almost Burkean in his apology
for change, he suggested that the popular party demand "rather
and only a Change of Governor, that is, instead of self-interested
Proprietaries, a gracious King!" His Narrative of the Late Massacres
in Lancaster County[i-299] is a bloody tribute to the lack of
authority and police power of the current regime. The Petition
to the King for a royal governor maintained that, torn by "armed
Mobs," the government was "weak, unable to support its own
Authority, and maintain the common internal Peace of the
Province."[i-300]
While petitioning for a crown colony, he found himself in
1765 faced with a larger than provincial interest—Lord Grenville's
Stamp Act forced him into the role of one seeking definition
of colonial status. Such was his position in his examination
(1766) before the House of Commons relative to the repeal of
the Stamp Act. Almost brusquely he told his catechizers that
even a moderated stamp act could not be enforced "unless compelled
by force of arms."[i-301] With a preface asserting that
colonials before 1763 were proud to be called Old-England
men, he summarized: "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."[i-302]
Parliament, in the colonial view, had no right to lay internal
taxes because "we are not represented there." Mr. Merriam
observes that in advancing this legal and constitutional issue,
the colonists "had in short an antiquated theory as to the position
and power of Parliament, and a premature theory of
Parliamentary representation."[i-303]
Franklin referred to the Pennsylvania colonial charter to prove
that all that was asked for was the "privileges and liberties of[xcvi]
Englishmen." When the examiners asked whether the colonists
appealing to the Magna Charta and constitutional rights of
Englishmen could not with equal force "object to the parliament's
right of external taxation," Franklin with cautious ambiguity
declared: "They never have hitherto."[i-304] Franklin's
skill in upholding tenuous, almost "metaphysical," constitutional
grievances (grievances, however, which were not upheld
by constitutional legalists in England) captivated Edmund
Burke's imagination: Franklin appeared to him like a schoolmaster
catechizing a pack of unruly schoolboys. Conservative
in his omission of any appeal to "natural rights," he was radical
in his legalistic distinctions between parliamentary rights
to levy certain kinds of taxes. His position in 1766 and for
several years following was one of seeking legal definitions of
the colonial status. Considering the popular excesses in the
colonies, Franklin's view was anything but illiberally radical.
Trying to counteract "the general Rage against America, artfully
work'd up by the Grenville Faction,"[i-305] fearful that the
unthinking rabble in the colonies might demonstrate too lustily
against duties and the redcoats,[i-306] Franklin saw, as a result of
the constitutional dilemma, the true extent of the fracture:
But after all, I doubt People in Government here will never
be satisfied without some Revenue from America, nor America
ever satisfy'd with their imposing it; so that Disputes will from
this Circumstance besides others, be perpetually arising, till
there is a consolidating union of the whole.[i-307]
His chief demand was for a less ambiguous relation between the
mother and her offspring, for a unified, pacific commonwealth[xcvii]
empire. Until he left for the colonies in 1775, he tirelessly
sought through conversation, conference, and articles[i-308]
sent to the British press (in addition he "reprinted everything
from America" that he "thought might help our Common
Cause") to reiterate patiently the colonies' "Charter liberties,"[i-309]
their abhorrence of Parliament-imposed internal taxes, and
the quartering of red-coated battalions. Constantly hoping for
a favorable Ministry (of a Lord Rockingham or a Shelburne), and
bemoaning the physical infirmities of Pitt which rendered him
politically impotent, Franklin felt almost romantically confident
at first of a change that must come. All the while, like Merlin's
gleam, visions of a world-encircling British empire haunted the
Pennsylvania tradesman. A letter to Barbeu Dubourg discloses
at once his belief in an imperial federation[i-310] and in the sovereignty
of the colonial assemblies: "In fact, the British empire
is not a single state; it comprehends many; and, though the
Parliament of Great Britain has arrogated to itself the power of
taxing the colonies, it has no more right to do so, than it has to
tax Hanover. We have the same King, but not the same legislatures."[i-311]
Marginalia by Franklin's hand in an anti-colonial[xcviii]
pamphlet written by Dean Tucker indicate how completely
he (and here he represented colonial, not private, opinion) had
failed to see the growth of parliamentary power: "These Writers
against the Colonies all bewilder themselves by supposing
the Colonies within the Realm, which is not the case, nor ever
was."[i-312]
By 1774 Franklin had discovered the futility of his imperialistic
illusions: ministries, fearing the siren colonies, had blocked
their ears with wax. The Pennsylvanian knew that "Divine
Providence first infatuates the power it designs to ruin."[i-313] He
who had wished for an empire as harmoniously companied as
the orbited harmony of celestial bodies lamented while on his
way to America in 1775 that "so glorious a Fabric as the present
British Empire [was] to be demolished by these Blunderers."[i-314]
Broken was "that fine and noble China Vase, the British
Empire."[i-315] In 1774 he would have gained little cheer from
William Livingston's opinion (uttered in 1768): "I take it that
clamour is at present our best policy."[i-316]
His sense of defeat was aggravated by that ugly scene in the
Cockpit in 1774 when Wedderburn bespattered the taciturn
colonial agent with foul invective. It had been charged that
Franklin, the postmaster, had purloined[i-317] letters of Governor[xcix]
Hutchinson and Lieutenant Governor Oliver of Massachusetts
and had sent them back to the colonies as proof of the colonists'
contention that the royal governors were hostile to
their colonial subjects. He whom (as Lord Chatham said)
"all Europe held in high Estimation for his Knowledge and
Wisdom, and rank'd with our Boyles and Newtons," was
decked by Wedderburn "with the choicest flowers of Billingsgate."
In the presence of Lord Shelburne, Lord North, the
Archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Burke, Jeremy Bentham,
and Priestley, Franklin, "motionless and silent," bore the
harangue of the solicitor general for a full three hours.[i-318]
Franklin's eloquent mock humility inspired Horace Walpole
to write:
Sarcastic Sawney, swol'n with spite and prate,
On silent Franklin poured his venal hate.
The calm philosopher, without reply,
Withdrew, and gave his country liberty.
As propagandist for legislative freedom, Franklin, appealing
for sanction to legalistic and constitutional liberty more than
to natural rights, was no more radical than Edmund Burke. If
ever an extreme democrat, Franklin had yet by 1775 to become
one. Temperamentally hostile to "drunken electors," the "madness
of mobs," he held a patrician attitude toward authority.
Earlier, in 1768, he had written from London: "All respect to
law and government seems to be lost among the common people,
who are moreover continually inflamed by seditious scribblers,
to trample on authority and every thing that used to keep them
in order."[i-319] To Georgiana Shipley he sent (Epitaph on Squirrel
Mungo's death) this Miltonic and unrepublican sentiment:
[c]
Learn hence,
Ye who blindly seek more liberty,
Whether subjects, sons, squirrels or daughters,
That apparent restraint may be real protection
Yielding peace and plenty
With security.[i-320]
In 1771 he indicted Parliament in a letter to Joseph Galloway:
"Its Censures are no more regarded than Popes' Bulls. It is
despis'd for its Venality, and abominated for its Injustice."
But he hastened to show that he had no illusions that men
are natively pure, that only governments are wicked. With
almost a Hamiltonian distrust of the public ranks he wrote:
"And yet it is not clear that the People deserve a better Parliament,
since they are themselves full as corrupt and venal: witness
the Sums they accept for their Votes at almost every Election."[i-321]
Back in the colonies, Franklin remained just long enough to
help form a constitution for Pennsylvania,[i-322] and to aid Jefferson
in writing the Declaration of Independence.[i-323] After
the royal governors had dissolved the assemblies and the Continental
Congress urged the colonies to form their own constitutions,
Franklin assumed leadership in his state and helped
to compose a constitution less conservative than those of most[ci]
of the other colonies.[i-324] Created between July 15 and Sept. 28,
1776, essentially by one who had just worked on and signed the
Declaration of Independence, it is not strange that the dominant
ideology of this constitution—that of natural rights, the
compact theory, and consent of the governed—should be like
that of the Declaration. The new constitution has been called
the "most democratic constitution yet seen in America."[i-325]
The unicameral legislature, the assembly of representatives, the
plan of judicial review of laws every seven years, and other features
have been looked upon as demonstrating the dangerous
ultra-democratic tendencies of Franklin. The revolutionary
Benjamin Rush, who had helped Paine with Common Sense, was
dismayed because, in his view, Pennsylvania "has substituted
mob government for one of the happiest governments in the
world.... A single legislature is big with tyranny. I had rather
live under the government of one man than of seventy-two."[i-326]
One wonders to what extent Franklin was responsible for the
unicameral legislature when we know that it "was the natural
outcome of Penn's ideas of government as embodied in his
various charters."[i-327] The plural executive, the right of freemen[cii]
to form their militia and elect their own officers, the
extension of male suffrage, and other innovations in this constitution
were of a radical nature in as far as the populace
were given greater liberties and responsibilities than ever
before in the colonies. It seems almost incredible that the patrician-minded
Franklin, with his Puritan heritage, should
have thus almost hurriedly cast himself at the feet of the
people. Certain extenuating factors may be mentioned in an
attempt not to gloss over but to understand the violent antithesis
between Franklin the imperialist and Franklin the revolutionist.
To what extent did his antipathy for proprietary
governors, as well as the general colonial experience with governors,
suggest a joint executive of a council and governor?[i-328]
Since his experience as a Whig propagandist had been to exalt
colonial legislatures, to what extent did he see in the unicameral
form a plan which would give freest movement to the legislative
activity? Prior to 1776 there is little that would suggest that
Franklin had any confidence in men, unchecked.[i-329] Yet it is
difficult to show that, in the first flush of indignation against
England and revolutionary enthusiasm, Franklin did not favor
for a time distinctly radical tendencies.
In 1776 he left, as he wrote to Jan Ingenhousz, "to procure
those aids from European powers, for enabling us to defend our
freedom and independence."[i-330] He who had "been a Servant
to many publicks, thro' a long life" went to Passy, where from[ciii]
the Hôtel de Valentinois of M. Roy de Chaumont he was to direct
financial efforts calculated, with Washington's generalship, and
the assiduous loyalty of a minority group, to win the Revolution.
Welcomed as the apotheosis of "les Insurgens,"[i-331] he
was virtually deified; as Turgot expressed it, Eripuit caelo
fulmen sceptrumque tyrannis. The universality of his vogue in
France was primarily due to his deistic naturalism, his wily
pleading and activities in behalf of colonial independence, the
receptivity of the Gallic mind for any marten-capped child of
the New World, and to his scientific thought and experimentation
which had fortified Reason in purging the unknown of its
terror, helping thus to make the philosophe at home in his
reasonable world. Three weeks after Franklin arrived in France,
one Frenchman said that "it is the mode today for everybody
to have an engraving of M. Franklin over the mantelpiece."[i-332]
France overnight became Franklinist when the savant came to
dwell at Passy. Even before the victory of Yorktown he became
la mode. It was to be his success to convert France's unrecognized
alliance with the colonies to an open and undisguised
alliance, perhaps even to war with England.[i-333] But even
for one who enjoyed, as John Adams wrote, a reputation "more
universal than that of Leibnitz or Newton, Frederick or Voltaire,"[i-334]
it was to be a difficult task to manipulate a Beaumarchais,
a Vergennes, and others, in spite of the well-known
and inveterate economic and political grievances which the
French held for the English. The virtues he stressed in the
Morals of Chess he was able to translate into a diplomatic mien,[civ]
uniting "perfect silence" with a "generous civility." As a result,
his record as minister to France is marked by complete success;
but for this "it is by no means certain that American independence
would have been achieved until many years later."[i-335]
Plagued by Frenchmen desiring places in the colonial army,
feted by the philosophes, sorely vexed by the need for settling
countless maritime affairs, embracing and embraced by the
venerable Voltaire, corresponding with Hartley concerning exchange
of prisoners, shaping alliances and treaties, conducting
scientific experiments, investigating Mesmer, intrigued by
balloon ascensions, made the darling of several salons, associating
in the Lodge of the Nine Sisters with Bailly, Bonneville,
Warville, Condorcet, Danton, Desmoulins, D'Auberteuil, Pétion,
Saint-Étienne, Sieyès, and others, all men who helped to
give shape (or shapelessness) to the French Revolution,[i-336]
Franklin found little time to search for that philosophic repose
which he had long coveted. It may be extravagant to say
that Franklin was the "Creator of Constitutionalism in
Europe,"[i-337] but we know that in 1783 he printed the colonial
constitutions for continental distribution.[i-338] It has been suggested
that Franklin was an important formative factor in
Condorcet's faith in universal suffrage, a unicameral legislature,
and the liberties guaranteed by constitutional law.[i-339] Then,
too, Franklin had signed the Declaration of Independence—a
document which the French hailed as the "restoration of[cv]
humanity's title deeds."[i-340] The Duc de la Rochefoucauld eulogized
the unicameral legislature of Pennsylvania, identifying
"this grand idea" and its "maximum of simplicity" as Franklin's
creation.[i-341] Fauchet eulogized him as "one of the foremost
builders of our sacred constitution."[i-342] Along with Helvétius,
Mably, Rousseau, and Voltaire, Franklin was considered as one
who laid the foundations for the French revolution.[i-343] Franklin's
taciturnity, his "art of listening," his diplomatic reserve,
do not suggest a volatile iconoclast doing anything consciously
to bring about a republican France. This did not prevent him
from becoming a symbol of liberty by his mere presence in the
land, stimulating patriots to examine the foundations of the
tyrannical authority which they saw or imagined enslaving
them. Holding no brief for natural equality, Franklin suggested
that "quiet and regular Subordination" is "so necessary
to Success."[i-344] Realist that he was, he became almost obsessed
with the innate depravity of men until he was doubtful
whether "the Species were really worth producing or preserving."[i-345]
One would not be considered excessively republican
who inveighed against the "collected passions, prejudices,
and private interests" of collective legislative bodies.[i-346][cvi]
He wrote to Caleb Whitefoord: "It is unlucky ... that the
Wise and Good should be as mortal as Common People and
that they often die before others are found fit to supply their
Places."[i-347] The great proportion of mankind, weak and selfish,
need "the Motives of Religion to restrain them from
Vice."[i-348] No less extreme than J. Q. Adams's retort to Paine's
Rights of Man, that it is anarchic to trust government "to the
custody of a lawless and desperate rabble," was Franklin's
distrust of the unthinking majority.[i-349]
Having helped to free the colonies, Franklin fittingly became,
if not one of the fathers of the Constitution, then, due to the
serenity with which he helped to moderate the plans of extremists
on both sides, at least its godfather. If, as Mr. James M.
Beck asserts, the success of the Constitution has been the result
of its approximation of the golden mean, between monarchy and
anarchy, the section and the nation, the small and the large state,
then its success may be attributed not a little to Franklin's
genius.[i-350] After small and large states had waged a fruitless
struggle over congressional representation, Franklin spoke:
The diversity of opinion turns on two points. If a proportional
representation takes place, the small States contend that
their liberties will be in danger. If an equality of votes is to be
put in its place, the large States say their money will be in
danger. When a broad table is to be made, and the edges <of
planks do not fit> the artist takes a little from both, and makes
a good joint.[i-351]
[cvii]
The former imperialist could not logically become a state
rights advocate. Engrossed essentially in "promoting and securing
the common Good,"[i-352] he derided the advantage the
greater state would have, asserting that he "was originally of
Opinion it would be better if every Member of Congress, or
our national Council, were to consider himself rather as a Representative
of the whole, than as an Agent for the Interests of a
particular State." When Mr. Randolph considered,
To negative all laws, passed by the several States, contravening,
in the opinion of the national legislature, the articles of
union: (the following words were added to this clause on motion
of Mr. Franklin, "or any Treaties subsisting under the authority
of the union.")[i-353]
This is anything but the corollary of a defender of state rights.
Franklin was convinced that the permanence of the national
view alone could prevent federal anarchy. Addressing himself
to the problem of delegated authority Madison observed: "This
prerogative of the General Govt. is the great pervading principle
that must controul the centrifugal tendency of the States;
which, without it, will continually fly out of their proper orbits
and destroy the order & harmony of the political system."[i-354]
One is tempted to see here Newton's principle of gravity translated
into terms of political nationalism; one wonders whether it
is probable that (like Madison's) Franklin's emphasis on the
harmony of the whole could have been partly conditioned by
the cohesiveness and harmony of universal physical laws incarnate
in Newtonian physics, of which he was a master.
[cviii]
Franklin was "apprehensive ...—perhaps too apprehensive,—that
the Government of these States may in future times end
in a Monarchy."[i-355] He suggested that moderate rather than
kingly salaries paid the chief executive would tend to allay this
danger. Between Randolph, who belabored a single executive
as the "foetus of monarchy," and Wilson, who harbored it as
the "best safeguard against tyranny," stood Franklin, who saw
it as subversive of democratic sovereignty but not necessarily
fatal. He declared himself emphatically against the motion
that the executive have a complete negative.[i-356] Extolling
popular sovereignty, he warned that "In free Governments the
rulers are the servants, and the people their superiors & sovereigns."[i-357]
He refused to consider a plan which sought to
establish a franchise only for freeholders: "It is of great consequence
that we shd. not depress the virtue & public spirit
of our common people; of which they displayed a great deal
during the war, and which contributed principally to the favorable
issue of it."[i-358] Pinckney had made a motion that rulers
should have unencumbered estates:
Doctr Franklin expressed his dislike of every thing that
tended to debase the spirit of the common people. If honesty
was often the companion of wealth, and if poverty was exposed
to peculiar temptation, it was not less true that the possession
of property increased the desire of more property—[i-359].... This
Constitution will be much read and attended to in Europe, and
if it should betray a great partiality to the rich—will not only
hurt us in the esteem of the most liberal and enlightened men
there, but discourage the common people from removing to
this Country.[i-360]
Pinckney's motion was rejected. Franklin within the Convention[cix]
did not seem to fear Gerry's threat—"the evils we experience
flow from the excess of democracy."[i-361]
Franklin suggested the adoption of a unicameral legislature,
but does not seem to have made any struggle for it. His article
of 1789 in defense of the Pennsylvania (unicameral) legislature,
however, shows that he clung to the principle as firmly as he
had in 1776.[i-362] He questioned: "The Wisdom of a few Members
in one single Legislative Body, may it not frequently stifle bad
Motions in their Infancy, and so prevent their being adopted?"
In addition the bicameral house is cumbersome and provocative
of delay.
Little is known of Franklin's attitude toward the violent
controversy attendant upon efforts toward ratification. In his
Ancient Jews and Anti-Federalists[i-363] he warned the traducers of
the new Constitution against voiding an instrument which in
his opinion was as sound as the frailty of human reason would
allow it to be. In fact, said he, it "astonishes me, ... to find
this system approaching so near to perfection as it does."[i-364]
He may be said to have been anti-federalistic to the extent that
he feared a strong executive, guarded jealously the legislative
sphere, worried little about checks and balances, sought to
accelerate popular sovereignty; he was federalistic to the extent
that he opposed state localism with national sovereignty, was
not blind to the depravity of human nature and hence felt the
need for a vigorous coercive government. To M. Le Veillard
he confessed an almost Hamiltonian distrust of the multitude:
The Constitution "has ... met with great opposition in some
States, for we are at present a nation of politicians. And, though
there is a general dread of giving too much power to our governors,
I think we are more in danger from too little obedience
in the governed."[i-365] He made the same complaint a year later:
"We have been guarding against an evil that old States are most[cx]
liable to, excess of power in the rulers, but our present danger
seems to be defect of obedience in the subjects."[i-366] It is
difficult to reconcile his inveterate distrust of men with his
activity in behalf of an almost universal franchise, reluctance
to sanction the principle of checks and balances, and belief in
a unicameral legislature; it is difficult to reconcile the Plutarchan
fervor with which he advocated the wisdom of following great
leaders with his fear of a vigorous executive. It is not improbable
that those ideas which are generally anti-federalistic in
Franklin's political view are in part the result of his hatred of
proprietary abuses which he witnessed as a provincial statesman
during his middle age.
VII. FRANKLIN AS SCIENTIST AND DEIST
Jan Ingenhousz, the celebrated physician to Maria Theresa
of Austria, wrote a letter to Franklin on May 3, 1780, which
doubtless caused the patriarch of Passy to reflect—not without
sadness of heart—on the diversified fortune which time and
circumstance had devised for him. The physician (no friend to
the American revolution) implored Franklin not to abandon
"entirely the world Nature whose laws made by the supreme
wisdom and is constant and unalterable as its legislature himself
[sic]." Ingenhousz lamented that Franklin, "a Philosopher
so often and so successfully employed in researches of the most
intricate and the most mysterious operations of Nature,"[i-367]
should have given his time to politics.
Franklin is now most commonly viewed as a utilitarian
moralist, a successful tradesman and printer, a shrewd propagandist
and financier, the diplomat of the Revolution, and if at
all as a scientist, then only as a virtuoso, fashioning devices, such
as open stoves, bifocal spectacles, and lightning rods, for practical[cxi]
uses. Probably few general readers are aware that Franklin
was a disinterested scientist in the sense that he interrogated
nature with an eye to discovering its immutable laws. It is
conversely supposed that Franklin himself was unaware of any
inclination to pursue natural science to the exclusion of those
political achievements which have identified him as one of the
wiliest and sagest diplomats of the Enlightenment.
It may be learned, however (not without astonishment), that
Franklin almost from the beginning of his participation in
politics resented the time given over to such activities, as so
much time lost to his speculations and research in natural science.
As early as 1752 he wistfully (though realistically) confessed
that "business sometimes obliges one to postpone philosophical
amusements."[i-368] A month after this, he wrote to Cadwallader
Colden: "I congratulate you on the prospect you have, of
passing the remainder of life in philosophical retirement."[i-369]
In the midst of investigating waterspouts, he observed to John
Perkins: "How much soever my Inclinations lead me to philosophical
Inquiries, I am so engag'd in Business, public and private,
that those more pleasing pursuits [of natural science] are frequently
interrupted...."[i-370] He urged Dr. John Fothergill to
give himself "repose, delight in viewing the Operations of
nature in the vegetable creation."[i-371] In 1765, upon completing
his negotiations in behalf of the Pennsylvania Assembly, he
promised Lord Kames that he would "engage in no other"
political affairs.[i-372] To the notable professor of physics of the
University of Turin, Giambatista Beccaria, he wrote in 1768
from London (where he had sought to have the Stamp Act
rescinded) that he had to "take away entirely" his "attention
from philosophical matters, though I have constantly cherished
the hope of returning home where I could find leisure to resume[cxii]
the studies that I have shamefully put off from time to time."[i-373]
Again, in 1779, he confessed to Beccaria: "I find myself here
[Passy] immers'd in Affairs, which absorb my Attention, and
prevent my pursuing those Studies in which I always found the
highest Satisfaction; and I am now grown so old, as hardly to
hope for a Return of that Leisure and Tranquillity so necessary
for Philosophical Disquisitions."[i-374] He longed (in 1782) to
have Congress release him so that he might "spend the Evening
of Life more agreeably in philosophic [devoted to natural
science] Leisure."[i-375] He who, John Winthrop claimed, "was
good at starting Game for Philosophers,"[i-376] acknowledged that
he had thrown himself on the public, which, "having as it were
eaten my flesh, seemed now resolved to pick my bones."[i-377]
Reverend Manasseh Cutler visited Franklin a few months before
the patriarch's death. They ardently discussed botany, Franklin
boyish in his eagerness to show the Reverend Mr. Cutler a
massive book, containing "the whole of Linnaeus' Systema
Vegetabilies." "The Doctor seemed extremely fond, through
the course of the visit, of dwelling on Philosophical subjects,
and particularly that of natural History, while the other Gentlemen
were swallowed up with politics."[i-378] In a fictitious (?)
conversation between Joseph II of Austria and Franklin, the
Newton of electricity is reported as explaining that he was early
in life attracted by natural philosophy: "Necessity afterwards
made me a politician.... I was Franklin, the Philosopher to the
world, long after I had in fact, become Franklin the Politician."[i-379][cxiii]
After reviewing the evidence, it seems incredulous
to doubt that, regardless of his achievements in other fields,
Franklin sought his greatest intellectual pleasure in scientific research
and speculation, and that his doctrines of scientific deism
antedated and conditioned his political, economic, and humanitarian
interests.
If Franklin's inventions have been justly praised, his affections
for the empirical scientific method and his philosophic
interest in Nature's laws have been unjustly ignored. He observed
to Ebenezer Kinnersley "that a philosopher cannot be
too much on his guard in crediting their ["careless observers'"]
relations of things extraordinary, and should never build an
hypothesis on any thing but clear facts and experiments, or it
will be in danger of soon falling ... like a house of cards";[i-380]
and to Abbé Soulavie, "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."[i-381]
In 1782 he wrote to Sir Joseph Banks, president of the Royal
Society, that he longed to "sit down in sweet Society with my
English philosophic Friends, communicating to each other new
Discoveries, and proposing Improvements of old ones; all tending
to extend the Power of Man over Matter, avert or diminish
the Evils he is subject to, or augment the Number of his Enjoyments."[i-382]
A careful study of his scientific papers discloses
that he was not untrained in the method of hypotheses sustained
or rejected by patient and laborious experimentation: not fortuitously
did he arrive at conclusions in electricity, which were
epochal in (1) "His rejection of the two-fluid theory of electricity[cxiv]
and substitution of the one-fluid theory; (2) his coinage of the
appropriate terms positive and negative, to denote an excess or a
deficit of the common electric fluid; (3) his explanation of the
Leyden jar, and, notably, his recognition of the paramount
rôle played by the glass or dielectric; (4) his experimental
demonstration of the identity of lightning and electricity; and
(5) his invention of the lightning conductor for the protection
of life and property, together with his clear statement of its
preventive and protective functions."[i-383] Not only an inventor,
Franklin inductively observed natural phenomena, and drew
conclusions until he had created a virtual Principia of electricity.
His contemporaries were not loath to honor him as a second
Newton. Franklin, however, was in all of his researches under
a self-confessed yoke which doubtless tended to deny him access
to the profoundest reaches of scientific inquiry: from Philadelphia
he wrote in 1753 to Cadwallader Colden, eminent
mathematician (as well as versatile scientist): "Your skill &
Expertness in Mathematical Computations, will afford you an
Advantage in these Disquisitions [among them, researches in
electricity], that I lament the want of, who am like a Man searching
for some thing in a dark Room where I can only grope and
guess; while you proceed with a Candle in your Hand."[i-384]
In an effort to learn the modus operandi of Franklin's philosophic
thought, let us now review its genetic development, its
probable sources, its relation to scientific deism, and the degree
to which he achieved that serene repose for which he ever
strove. A pioneer American rationalist, not without his claims
to being "another Voltaire," Franklin as a youth read those
works which were forming or interpreting the thought patterns
of the age. Born in an epoch presided over by a Locke and a
Newton, an epoch of rationalism and "supernatural" rationalism,[cxv]
alike fed by physico-mathematical speculation. Franklin,
barely beyond adolescence, felt the impacts of the age of reason.
Scholars before and since M. M. Curtis have explained that "in
religion he was a Deist of the type of Lord Herbert of Cherbury."[i-385]
M. Faÿ has sought, without convincing documentary
evidence, to interpret Franklin's philosophic mind in terms
of Pythagoreanism.[i-386] We may find that these views are over
simple and historically inadequate—even wrong.
Franklin was reared "piously in the Dissenting way"[i-387] by a
"pious and prudent" Calvinistic father who died as he lived,
with "entire Dependence on his Redeemer."[i-388] "Religiously
educated as a Presbyterian,"[i-389] young Benjamin was taught that
Major est Scripturae auctoritas quam omnis humani ingenü capacitas.
He was nurtured on the Bible and "books in polemic
divinity," and he regularly attended services at the Old South
Church. Doubtless without reflection he was led to identify
goodness with the church and its worship. He was a part of
New England's bibliolatry. Not long before he was apprenticed
to his brother James he read Cotton Mather's Bonifacius—An Essay
upon the Good that is to be Devised and Designed by those
who desire to Answer the Great End of Life, and to do good while
they live, and Defoe's Essays upon Several Projects: or Effectual
Ways for Advancing the Interests of the Nation. He confessed
in 1784 that Bonifacius "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."[i-390] Mather, as an exponent of[cxvi]
Christian charity, urged that man help his neighbors "with
a rapturous assiduity,"[i-391] that he may discover the "ravishing
satisfaction which he might find in relieving the distresses of a
poor miserable neighbor."[i-392] It is ironic that Mather should
have apparently aided a young man to divorce himself from the
strenuous subtleties of theology. (Franklin was too young to
gather that Mather circumspectly warned against a covenant of
works, and hence was Pauline in his advocacy of charity rather
than of humanitarianism.) And from Defoe's Essays Franklin
received more than a penchant for projects. Like Mather, Defoe
observed that "God Almighty has commanded us to relieve and
help one another in distress."[i-393] Defoe seemed to young Franklin
to dwell on fellow-service—to promise that the good man need
not have understood all of the dogma of Old South meetinghouse.
Apprenticed to James, Franklin admitted that he "now had
access to better books."[i-394] Whatever the extent of James's
library in 1718, by 1722 the New England Courant collection
included Burnet's History of the Reformation, Theory of the
Earth, the Spectator papers, The Guardian, Art of Thinking [Du
Port Royal], The Tale of a Tub, and the writings of Tillotson.[i-395]
After reading most probably in these, and, as we are told, in
Tryon's Way to Health, Xenophon's Memorabilia, digests of
some of Boyle's lectures, Anthony Collins, Locke, and Shaftesbury,
Franklin became in his Calvinist religion a "real doubter."[i-396]
He became at the age of sixteen, as a result of reading Boyle's
Lectures,[i-397] a "thorough Deist."[i-398] We cannot be certain of[cxvii]
the Lectures read by Franklin, but we may observe Bentley's
Folly of Atheism (1692) and Derham's Physico-Theology (1711-1712),
which are representative of the series provided for by
Boyle. Like Mather's The Christian Philosopher (1721)[i-399] they
both employ science and rationalism to reinforce (never as
equivalent to or substitute for) scriptural theology. Fed by
Newtonian physics, Bentley discovers in gravity "the great
basis of all mechanism," the "immediate fiat and finger of God,
and the executions of the divine law."[i-400] Gravity, "the powerful
cement which holds together this magnificent structure of the
world,"[i-401] is the result of the Deity "who always acts geometrically."
Borrowing from Cockburne, Ray, Bentley, and Fénelon,
Derham offers likewise to prove the existence and operations of
the Workman from his Work.[i-402]
It is unlikely that Boyle's Lectures (characterized by orthodox
rationalism, augmented by Newtonianism) would alone
have precipitated in Franklin a "thorough deism." Not improbably
Locke, Shaftesbury, and Anthony Collins (whom
Franklin mentions reading) were most militant in overthrowing
his inherited bibliolatry. Although he does not say exactly
which of Collins's works he read, Collins's rationale is repeated
clearly enough in any one of his pieces. Warring against "crack-brain'd
Enthusiasts," the "prodigious Ignorance" and "Impositions
of Priests," against defective scriptural texts, Collins[cxviii]
defends "our natural Notions" against the authoritarianism of
priests. Vilifying the authority of the surplice, he apotheosizes
the authority of reason.[i-403] He intensifies the English tradition
of every-man-his-own-priest, and exclaims "How uncertain
Tradition is!"[i-404] From this militant friend of John Locke,
Franklin was doubtless impregnated with an odium theologicum
and an exalted idea of the sanctity of Reason.
Having read An Essay Concerning Human Understanding,[i-405]
Franklin may have remembered that Locke there observed,
"Nothing that is contrary to, and inconsistent with, the clear
and self-evident dictates of reason, has a right to be urged or
assented to as a matter of faith, wherein reason hath nothing
to do."[i-406] Like Collins, Locke urged a deistic rationale:
Since then the precepts of Natural Religion are plain, and
very intelligible to all mankind, and seldom to come to be controverted;
and other revealed truths, which are conveyed to us
by books and languages, are liable to the common and natural
obscurities and difficulties incident to words; methinks it would
become us to be more careful and diligent in observing the
former, and less magisterial, positive, and imperious, in imposing
our own sense and interpretations of the latter.[i-407]
[cxix]
In addition Franklin may have been influenced by Locke's implied
Newtonianism; he would suspect the subtleties of the
Old South Church when he read: "For the visible marks of
extraordinary wisdom and power appear so plainly in all the
works of the creation, that a rational creature, who will but
seriously reflect on them, cannot miss the discovery of a
Deity."[i-408] Like Newton, Locke inferred an infinite and benevolent
Geometrician from "the magnificent harmony of the universe."
Franklin also read Shaftesbury's Characteristics, which Warburton
quotes Pope as saying "had done more harm to revealed
religion in England than all the works of infidelity put together."[i-409]
Although he may have pondered over Shaftesbury's
"virtuoso theory of Benevolence," he was not one to be readily
convinced of the innate altruism of man. His Puritan heritage
linked with an empirical realism prevented him from becoming
prey to Shaftesbury's a priori optimism. He was aware of the
potential danger of a complacent trust in natural impulses, which
often lead to
The love of sweet security in sin.
To what extent did Franklin's nascent humanitarianism—mildly
provoked by the neighborliness of Mather and Defoe—receive[cxx]
additional sanction from Shaftesbury's doctrine that "compassion
is the supreme form of moral beauty, the neglect of it the
greatest of all offenses against nature's ordained harmony"?[i-410]
Identifying self-love and social, Shaftesbury saw the divine
temper achieved through affection for the public, the "universal
good."[i-411] Born among men who were convinced of the supremacy
of scripture, Franklin would at first be astonished
(then perhaps liberated) upon reading in the Characteristics that
"Religion excludes only perfect atheism."[i-412] From such a piece
as Shaftesbury's An Inquiry Concerning Virtue or Merit Franklin
learned that not all men preserved a union between theology
and ethics, scripture and religion. Although Shaftesbury occasionally
indicated a reverence for sacred scriptures, the totality
of his thought was cast in behalf of natural religion. He was convinced
that the "Deity is sufficiently revealed through natural
Phenomena."[i-413] Extolling the apprehension of the Deity
through man's uniform reason, Shaftesbury urbanely lampooned
enthusiasm, that private revelation which threatened to prevail
against the consensus gentium.
By 1725 Franklin had divorced theology from morality and
morality from conscience, having punctuated his youth with
faunish "errata."[i-414] Although he was as a youth too much at ease
in Zion, he did not lose substantial (if then a theoretic) faith in
the struggle between the law of the spirit and the law of the
members. Nurtured by the Bible, Bunyan, Addison and Steele,
Tryon, Socrates, and Xenophon—a blend of Christian and
classical traditions—he felt the reasonableness, if not the saintliness,
of curbing the resolute sway of his natural self.[i-415]
[cxxi]
After five years with James, a year in Philadelphia where part
of the time he worked with Samuel Keimer,[i-416] a fanatic[cxxii]
and bearded Camisard, Franklin, through the duplicity of
Governor Keith, found himself in November, 1724, aboard the
London-Hope, England-bound. It would be unfair to Franklin
were we to think him a primitive colonist to whom England
was an unreal, incalculable land. We remember that James
knew the London of Anne, Addison, Steele, Locke, and Newton.
And we have seen that the New England Courant library
was one of which no London gentleman and scholar need have
been ashamed. As a worker on this newspaper Franklin had set
up the names and some indications of the thoughts of such men
as Fénelon, Tillotson, Defoe, Swift, Butler, Bayle, Isaac Watts,
Blount, Burnet, Whiston, Temple, Trenchard and Gordon,
Denham, Garth, Dryden, Milton, Locke, Flamstead, and Newton.[i-417]
During his two years in London, working successively in the
printing houses of Samuel Palmer and James Watts, he mingled
with many of the leaders of the day. Probably because he had,
while yet in America, read (in the transactions of the Royal
Society) of the virtuosi's interest in asbestos, he wrote to
Sir Hans Sloane, offering to show him purses made of that
novel stuff.[i-418] And we know that Sir Hans Sloane received[cxxiii]
Franklin in his home at Bloomsbury Square. Before he met
other notables he published (what he called later an "erratum")
A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and
Pain (1725).[i-419] Franklin himself said this work was the result
of his setting up Wollaston's The Religion of Nature Delineated[i-420]
at Palmer's and his not agreeing with the author's "reasonings."
Coming to Wollaston's work (with Franklin's Dissertation
and Articles of Belief in mind) we can, however, see
much that Franklin agreed with, general principles which do
little more than reflect the current patterns of thought. Like
Franklin, Wollaston saw Reason as "the great law of our
nature."[i-421] With Locke he denied innate ideas.[i-422] That part
of The Religion of Nature Delineated in which he searched
with laborious syllogistic reasoning for the Ultimate Cause
(which could not produce itself) may have been boring to the
less agile mind of the young printer. Wollaston, however,
apologized for his syllogistic gymnastics offered in proof of
Deity since "much more may those greater motions we see in
the world, and the phenomena attending them" afford arguments
for such a proof:
I mean the motions of the planets and the heavenly bodies.
For these must be put into motion, either by one Common
mighty Mover, acting upon them immediately, or by causes and
laws of His Appointment; or by their respective movers, who,
for reasons to which you can by this time be no stranger, must
depend upon some Superior, that furnished them with the power
of doing this.[i-423]
[cxxiv]
With Newtonian rapture he marveled at "the grandness of this
fabric of the world,"[i-424] at "the chorus of planets moving periodically,
by uniform laws." Rapt in wonder, he gazed "up to
the fixt stars, that radiant numberless host of heaven." Like a
Blackmore, Ray, Fontenelle, or Newton, he felt that they were
"probably all possest by proper inhabitants."[i-425] He wondered
at the "just and geometrical arrangement of things."[i-426] These
are all sentiments that Franklin expressed in his philosophical
juvenilia.[i-427] But then, Franklin (after reading this sublimated
geometry which reduced the parts of creation to an equally
sublime simplicity) noted in Wollaston that man must be a free
agent,[i-428] that good and evil are as black and white, distinguishable,[i-429]
that empirically the will is free, the author urging with
Johnsonian good sense, "The short way of knowing this certainly
is to try."[i-430] Franklin's Dissertation was dedicated to his
friend James Ralph and prefaced by a misquotation from Dryden
and Lee's Oedipus. It purports, as Franklin wrote in 1779,
"to prove the doctrine of fate, from the supposed attributes of
God ... that in erecting and governing the world, as he was
infinitely wise, he knew what would be best; infinitely good, he
must be disposed, and infinitely powerful, he must be able to
execute it: consequently all is right."[i-431] With confidence lent
him by his a priori method, he proposed: "I. There is said to
be a First Mover, who is called God, Maker of the Universe.
II. He is said to be all-wise, all-good, all-powerful."[i-432] With
the nonchalance of an abstractionist, he concluded, "Evil doth
not exist."[i-433] Transcending the sensational necessitarianism[i-434][cxxv]
of Anthony Collins and John Locke, Franklin observed (with
an eye on Newton's law of gravitation) that man has liberty,
the "Liberty of the same Nature with the Fall of a heavy Body
to the Ground; it has Liberty to fall, that is, it meets with nothing
to hinder its Fall, but at the same Time it is necessitated to fall,
and has no Power or Liberty to remain suspended."[i-435] As a
disciple of Locke's psychology, Franklin reflected his concept of
the tabula rasa in describing an infant's mind which "is as if it
were not." "All our Ideas are first admitted by the Senses and
imprinted on the Brain, increasing in Number by Observation
and Experience; there they become the Subjects of the Soul's
Action."
In the Dissertation one can discover the extent to which Franklin
had absorbed (if not from Newton's own works, then from
his popularizers and intellectual sons such as Pemberton, Franklin's
friend) several of the essential tenets of Newtonianism.
Here we see his belief in a universe motivated by immutable
natural laws comprising a sublimely harmonious system reflecting
a Wise Geometrician; a world in which man desires to
affect a corresponding inner heaven. Enraptured by the order
of the natural laws of Newtonianism, and like a Shaftesbury
searching for a demonstrable inner harmony, Franklin (carrying
his a priorism to logical absurdity) was unable to reconcile free
will with Omniscience, Omnipotence, and Goodness. (In how
far was this partly the result of his having been steeped in
Calvinism's doctrine of Election?)
The Dissertation is as appreciative of Newton's contribution
to physics and thought as Thomson's[i-436] To the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton.[cxxvi]
Not unlike Franklin's framework is Shaftesbury's
thought in An Inquiry Concerning Virtue or Merit.[i-437]
Since Franklin acknowledged his reading of Shaftesbury and
since as late as 1730 he borrowed heavily from the Characteristics,
it seems probable that Shaftesbury lent Franklin in this
case some sanction for his only metaphysical venture.[i-438]
As one result of his printing A Dissertation he made the
acquaintance of Lyons, author of The Infallibility of Human
Judgement[i-439] who introduced him to Mandeville[i-440] and Dr.[cxxvii]
Henry Pemberton, who in turn "Promis'd to give me an opportunity,
some time or other, of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of
which I was extreamly desirous; but this never happened [the
italics are the editors']."[i-441] Dr. Pemberton, physician and mathematician,
met Newton in 1722, and during the time Franklin
enjoyed his friendship was helping Newton to prepare the third
edition of the Principia. As a result of his aiding Newton "to
discover and understand his writings,"[i-442] Pemberton in 1728
published A View of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophy. It is obvious
that Franklin could have discovered few men with a more
concentrated and enthusiastic knowledge of Newtonianism than
that possessed by Dr. Pemberton. As we have already noted,
Franklin undoubtedly derived his appreciation of Newtonian
speculation not from grubbing in the Principia but from secondary
sources. There is no reason to apologize for Franklin
on this score when we remember that Voltaire, who popularized
Newtonianism in France, exclaimed: "Very few people read
Newton because it is necessary to be learned to understand him.
But everybody talks about him." Desaguliers, coming to London
from Oxford in 1713, observed that "he found all Newtonian
philosophy generally receiv'd among persons of all ranks
and professions, and even among the ladies by the help of experiments."[i-443][cxxviii]
Pemberton wrote that the desire after knowledge
of Newtonianism "is by nothing more fully illustrated, than
by the inclination of men to gain an acquaintance with the operations
of nature; which disposition to enquire after the causes of
things is so general, that all men of letters, I believe, find themselves
influenced by it."[i-444] Through the sublimated mathematics
of the Principia, Pemberton observed, "the similitude found
in all parts of the universe makes it undoubted, that the whole
is governed by one supreme being, to whom the original is
owing of the frame of nature, which evidently is the effect of
choice and design."[i-445] To what extent Franklin later gave evidence
of his knowledge of Newtonian speculation we shall
further discover in his Articles of Belief.
He returned in the summer of 1726 on the Berkshire to Philadelphia
with Mr. Denham, a sweetly reasonable Quaker.[i-446][cxxix]
During this journey he wrote his Journal of a Voyage from
London to Philadelphia, indicating a virtuoso's interest in all
novel phenomena of nature. In Philadelphia he worked for
Denham, then Keimer, and finally established his own printing
house in 1728, a year after founding the Junto,[i-447] and the year
of his Articles of Belief. By this time, Franklin, like Hume,
wearied of metaphysics. Commonly this creed has been described
as illustrating the deism of Lord Herbert of Cherbury. It
is true that Franklin admits a God who ought to be worshipped,[cxxx]
the chief parts of worship being the cultivation of virtue and
piety; but there is no suggestion of Lord Herbert's fourth and
fifth dogmas, that sin must be atoned for by repentance, and that
punishment and rewards follow this life. His reaction against
Calvinism may be shown in his failure to include reference to
scripture, the experience of faith, and the triune godhead presided
over by the redeemer Christ. As a deist he accepted "one
supreme, most perfect Being." This Deity is the "Author and
Father of the Gods themselves." "Infinite and incomprehensible,"
He has created many gods, each having "made for himself
one glorious Sun, attended with a beautiful and admirable
System of Planets." Franklin offered his adoration to that "Wise
and Good God, who is the author and owner of our System."
It is conventional to suggest that his interest in the plurality of
worlds and gods should be traced to Plato's Timaeus.[i-448] In the
absence of any conclusive evidence concerning Franklin's study
of Plato, and in view of his profound awareness of contemporary
scientific and philosophical thought, it seems more reasonable
to see the source of this idea in the thought of his own age.
Let us remember that with the growth of the heliocentric cosmology
there resulted a vast expanse of the unknown, bound to
intrigue the speculations of the philosophers of the age. We
know that Ray, Fénelon, Blackmore, Huygens, Fontenelle,
Shaftesbury, Locke, and Newton all wondered about the plurality
of worlds and gods.
In company with the supernatural rationalists and deists,
Franklin exalted Reason as the experience through which God is
discovered and known. Through Reason he is "capable of observing
his Wisdom in the Creation." With Newtonian zeal,
upon observing "the glorious Sun, with his attending Worlds,"
he saw the Deity responsible first for imparting "their prodigious
motion," and second for maintaining "the wondrous Laws by[cxxxi]
which they move." As we have seen above, this argument
from the design of creation to a Creator was one of the most influential
and popular of the impacts of Newtonian physics. Like
Fénelon, Blackmore, and Ray, whom he read and recommended
that others read,[i-449] Franklin exclaimed:
Thy Wisdom, thy Power, and thy Goodness are everywhere
clearly seen; in the air and in the water, in the Heaven and on
the Earth; Thou providest for the various winged Fowl, and the
innumerable Inhabitants of the Water; thou givest Cold and
Heat, Rain and Sunshine, in their Season, [et cetera].
In addition to the works mentioned above which aided Franklin
in arriving at a natural religion, it is certain that his views and
even idiom received stout reinforcement from such a passage as
follows from Ray's classic work:
There is no greater, at least no more palpable and convincing
argument of the existence of a Deity, than the admirable act
and wisdom that discovers itself in the make and constitution,
the order and disposition, the ends and uses of all the parts and
members of this stately fabric of heaven and earth; for if in the
works of art ... a curious edifice or machine, counsel, design,
and direction to an end appearing in the whole frame, and in
all the several pieces of it, do necessarily infer the being and
operation of some intelligent architect or engineer, why shall
not also in the works of nature, that grandeur and magnificence,
that excellent contrivance for beauty, order, use &c. which is
observable in them, wherein they do as much transcend the
effects of human art as infinite power and wisdom exceeds finite,
infer the existence and efficacy of an omnipotent and all-wise
Creator?[i-450]
Then he directly referred to the Archbishop of Cambray's Traité
de l'existence et des attributs de Dieu. Oliver Elton observes[cxxxii]
that this work "with its appeal to popular science, is the chief
counterpart in France to the 'physico-theology' current at the
time in England."[i-451] From the skeleton of the smallest animal,
"the bones, the tendons, the veins, the arteries, the nerves, the
muscles, which compose the body of a single man"[i-452] to "this
vaulted sky" which turns "around so regularly,"[i-453] all show
"the infinite skill of its Author."[i-454] Although Fénelon is
applying Cartesian physics, here Descartes reinforced Newtonianism;
like Newton, Fénelon argued that cosmic motion is
ordered by "immutable laws," so "constant and so salutary."
Blackmore's Creation, a Philosophical Poem (1712), aiming to
demonstrate "the existence of a God from the marks of wisdom,
design, contrivance, and the choice of ends and means, which
appear in the universe"[i-455] also furnished additional sanction for
Franklin's emphasis on the wondrous laws of the creation and
the discovery of the Deity in his Work. Like James Thomson,
Blackmore seeks to show how
The long coherent chain of things we find
Leads to a Cause Supreme, a wise Creating Mind.[i-456]
In revolt against the contractile elements in Calvinism,
Franklin believed that God "is not offended, when he sees his
Children solace themselves in any manner of pleasant exercises
and Innocent Delights."[i-457] In his Articles of Belief Franklin
retains from his Dissertation his a priori concept of the Deity[cxxxiii]
as a creator and sustainer of "Wondrous Laws," immutable and
beneficent. To the depersonalized First Mover, however,
he has added "some of those Passions he has planted in us,"
and he suggests furthermore that the Deity is mildly providential.
A maker of systematic, if inhuman, metaphysics in the
Dissertation, the author of the Articles, in spite of the superficial
and embryonic metaphysics, succeeds better in making
himself at home in his world. To this embryonic religion
(linked with Franklin's obsession with the plurality of worlds
and gods—of no real significance save to indicate picturesquely
the extent to which he had, with the scientists of his age, extended
the limits of the physical universe) Franklin welded a
pattern of ethics, prudential but stern.
Mr. Hefelbower's description of the growth of free thought
might appropriately be applied to Franklin's Articles: "As the
supernatural waned in radical Deism, the ethical grew in importance,
until religion was but a moral system on a theistic
background."[i-458] Although the metaphysical portions of this
work are far too neighborly and casual to be inspiring and
provocative of saintliness, the ethical conclusions (would that
they were uttered less consciously and complacently!) are
worthy of the introspective force of New England's stern mind,
of the classic tradition of Socrates and Aristotle, and of England's
unbending emphasis on the middle way.[i-459] One could
learn from the Articles how to be just, if he did not discover
what is meant by the beauty of holiness. In 1728 Franklin,
though bewildered by the tenuousness of metaphysics, based
his religion on the "everlasting tables of right reason," plumbing
the "mighty volumes of visible nature." He was thus our pioneer
scientific deist, who discovered his chief sanction in popularized
Newtonian physics.
[cxxxiv]
Following Franklin's formal profession of deism buttressed by
Newtonian science in 1728, one must depend on scattered references
to plot the persistence of his philosophic ideology. His
Dialogues between Philocles and Horatio (1730), borrowed[i-460]
from Shaftesbury's The Moralists, suggest that his moral speculations
were dual and not reconciled; he seems torn between
humanitarian compassion and the self-development of the individual,
unable to decide which is the nobler good. One may
observe that this moral bifurcation was inveterate in Franklin's
mind, never resolving itself into a fondness for the idea that
human nature is inexorably the product of institutions and outward
social forms. A Witch Trial at Mount Holly suggests
that he felt free to handle scriptures with Aristophanic levity.
His intellectual conviction of a matchless physical harmony, as
yet unmatched in the world by a corresponding moral harmony,
is joyously seen in Preface to Poor Richard, 1735:
Whatever may be the Musick of the Spheres, how great
soever the Harmony of the Stars, 'tis certain there is no Harmony
among the Stargazers; but they are perpetually growling
and snarling at one another like strange Curs....[i-461]
Even Polly Baker is made to appeal to "nature and nature's
God,"[i-462] discovering in her bastard children the Deity's "divine
skill and admirable workmanship in the formation of their
bodies." In Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in
Pensilvania (1749) Franklin remarked in a note on Natural
Philosophy that "Proper Books may be, Ray's Wisdom of
God in the Creation, Derham's Physico-Theology, [Pluche's?]
Spectacle de la Nature, &c."[i-463] Poor Richard, in addition to prognostications
of weather, survey of roads, Rabelaisian wit, and[cxxxv]
aphoristic wisdom, was a popular vehicle for the diffusion of a
Newtonianism bordering on a mild form of deism.[i-464]
Since Franklin's interest in science is too commonly discussed
as if his research were synonymous with a tinkering and
utilitarian inventiveness, it is pertinent to inquire in how far it
was at least partially (or even integrally) the result of his
philosophic acceptance of Newtonianism. Since his philosophic
rationale preceded his activities in science, it will not do to
suggest that his interest in science was responsible for his
scientific deism. He wrote (August 15, 1745) to Cadwallader
Colden, who was receptive to Newtonianism, that he [Franklin]
"ought to study the sciences" in which hitherto he had merely
dabbled.[i-465] Then follow his electrical experiments. In one of
his famous letters on the properties and effects of electricity
(sent to Peter Collinson, July 29, 1750) he allowed that the
principle of repulsion "affords another occasion of adoring
that wisdom which has made all things by weight and
measure!"[i-466] Investigating—like a Newton—nature's laws,
Franklin at first hand added to his philosophic assurance of the
existence of a Deity, observable in the physical order.
In 1739 Franklin met Reverend George Whitefield, whose
sermons and journals he printed while the evangelist remained
in the colonies.[i-467] He first angled public opinion through the
Pennsylvania Gazette, promising to print Whitefield's pieces
"if I find sufficient Encouragement."[i-468] The Pennsylvania
Gazette piously hoped that Whitefield's heavenly discourses
would be ever remembered: "May the Impression on all our Souls
remain, to the Honour of God, both in Ministers and People!"[i-469][cxxxvi]
As editor (perhaps even writer of some of those notices) Franklin
must have squirmed in praising the activities of one who
daily cast all deists in hell! But it should be observed that if
Franklin could not accept Methodistic zeal, he loved Whitefield,
the man.[i-470] Even so did Whitefield regard Franklin, the man
and printer—though not the scientific deist. Waiting to embark
for England in 1740, Whitefield wrote to Franklin from
Reedy Island: "Dear Sir, adieu! I do not despair of your seeing
the reasonableness of Christianity. Apply to God, be willing
to do the Divine Will, and you shall know it."[i-471] Twelve years
later Whitefield wrote to his printer-deist friend: "I find that
you grow more and more famous in the learned world. As you
have made a pretty considerable progress in the mysteries of
electricity, I would now humbly recommend to your diligent
unprejudiced pursuit and study the mysteries of the new
birth."[i-472] When troops had been sent to Boston, Franklin wrote
a letter to Whitefield (after January 21, 1768) which offers a
significant clue for estimating Franklin's philosophy: "I see
with you that our affairs are not well managed by our rulers
here below; I wish I could believe with you, that they are well
attended to by those above; I rather suspect, from certain circumstances,
that though the general government of the universe
is well administered, our particular little affairs are perhaps below
notice, and left to take the chance of human prudence or
imprudence, as either may happen to be uppermost. It is, however,
an uncomfortable thought, and I leave it."[i-473] Whitefield
"endorsed his friend's letter with the words, 'Uncomfortable
indeed! and blessed be God, unscriptural!'"[i-474] If in 1786 Franklin[cxxxvii]
wrote to an unknown correspondent (perhaps Tom Paine?)[i-475]
that any arguments "against the Doctrines of a particular
Providence" strike "at the Foundation of all Religion,"[i-476] he also
had written not long before that "the Dispensations of Providence
in this World puzzle my weak Reason."[i-477] Beneath the
taciturn and allegedly complacent, imperturbable Franklin
there is apparent a haunting inquietude. Never dead to his
Calvinist heritage, he sought to establish a providential relationship
between the Deity and man's fortunes, not a little chilled
in the presence of the virtually depersonalized Deity of the
Enlightenment. If Calvin's God was wrathful, he was providential;
his own Deity, if benevolent and omnipotent, seemed
strangely remote from the ken of man's moral experience.
Science had shown him a Deity existing at the head of a fagot of
immutable laws. If this Creator was picturesquely unlike the
fickle gods of Olympus, he was strangely like them to the
extent that he seemed to exist apart from man's moral nature.
When he wrote to his friend, the Bishop of St. Asaph,
"It seems my Fate constantly to wish for Repose, and never
to obtain it,"[i-478] was he in part longing for the retirement when
he would be able to resolve his doubts as to the workings of
Providence?
M. Marbois, discussing Franklin's religion with John Adams,
quietly noted that "Mr. Franklin adores only great Nature."[i-479]
Joseph Priestley "lamented that a man of Dr. Franklin's general
good character and great influence should have been an unbeliever
in Christianity, and also have done so much as he did to[cxxxviii]
make others unbelievers."[i-480] This evidence appears untrustworthy
in light of his diffident attitude toward church attendance,
even toward scriptures, as it may be discovered in his collected
works.[i-481] Even if he did not feel the desire to attend formal services,
he seemed, like Voltaire, to feel that they were salutary, if
only to furnish the canaille with the will to obey authority. In
1751 Franklin's mother, Abiah Franklin, wrote to her son: "I
hope you will lookup to God, and thank Him for all His good providences
towards you."[i-482] If he were unable to understand God's
providences, it was certain that he did not seek to disturb
others by calling the concept of a providential deity into question.
In England and France Franklin was revered as the answer
to the Enlightenment's prayer for the ideal philosopher-scientist.
Sir John Pringle,[i-483] one of his warmest friends, in a Royal
Society lecture in honor of Maskelyne, might well have been
describing Franklin's place in eighteenth-century science when
he said: "As much then remains to be explored in the celestial
regions, you [Maskelyne] are encouraged, Sir, by what has been
already attained, to persevere in these hallowed labours, from
which have been derived the greatest improvements in the most
useful arts, and the loudest declarations of the power, the wisdom,
and the goodness of the Supreme Architect in the Spacious
and beautiful fabric of the world."[i-484] To his age Franklin was
"that judicious philosopher," judicious and "enlightened" to
the extent that his experiments showed how men "may perceive[cxxxix]
not only the direction of Divine Wisdom, but the goodness
of Providence towards mankind, in having so admirably
settled all things in the sublime arrangement of the world, that
it should be in the power of men to secure themselves and their
habitations against the dire effects of lightning."[i-485] Turgot's
famous epigram on Franklin, the republican-deist, that he
snatched sceptres from kings and lightning from the heavens, in
part expressed the extent to which the French public conceived
of Franklin, the scientist, as detracting from the terror in the
cosmos, hence making their reasonable world more habitable.[i-486]
In the popular mind death-dealing lightning had been the visible
symbol and proof of Calvin's wrathful and capricious Jehovah.
Franklin's dramatic and widely popularized proof that even
lightning's secrets were not past finding out, that it acted according
to immutable laws and could be made man's captive
and menial slave, no doubt had a powerful influence in encouraging
the great untheological public to become ultimately more
receptive to deism. If Franklin was apotheosized as the apostle
of liberty, he was no less sanctified as a "Modern Prometheus."
In his own words, he saw science as freeing man "from vain
Terrors."[i-487] To Condorcet, his friend and disciple, Franklin
was one who "was enabled to wield a power sufficient to disarm
the wrath of Heaven."[i-488]
He expressed his creed just before his death in the often-quoted
letter to Ezra Stiles.[i-489] Bearing in mind his inveterate
scientific deism, we are not surprised that his religion is one
created apart from Christian scripture, that Jesus is the conventional,
amiable philosopher, respected but not worshipped by[cxl]
the Enlightenment. If he seems convinced in this letter that
God "governs" the universe "by his Providence," we have
seen above that his attitude toward the Deity's relation to man
and his world was anything but sure and free from disturbing
reflection. Convinced that the Deity "ought to be worshipped,"
he next observed "that the most acceptable service we render to
him is doing good to his other children." His a priori concept
of a benevolent Deity whose goodness is expressed in the harmony
of the creation, in effect challenged him to attempt to
approximate this kindness in his relations with his fellow men.
Apart from provoking humanitarianism, primarily an ethical
experience guided not by sentimentality but by reason and
practicality. Franklin's natural religion—like deism in general—failed,
as scriptural religion does not, to establish a
union between theology, the religious life, and ethical behavior.
It must be seen that Franklin had no confidence in achieving
the good life through mere fellow-service: he continually
urged man to conquer passion through reason, seeming to covet
pagan sobriety more than he did the satisfaction of having aided
man to achieve greater physical ease. If he felt that "to relieve
the misfortunes of our fellow creatures is concurring with the
Deity; it is godlike,"[i-490] he warned against helping those who
had failed to help themselves, implying that the inner growth of
the individual is more significant than his outward charity to
others. Whatever be the ultimate resolution of these antithetic
principles, we see that his humanitarianism was the offspring
of his a priori conceived Deity, augmented by his experiments
in science which led to discovery of nature's laws. His emphasis
on the inward and vertical growth of the individual toward
perfection, on the other hand, may be viewed as the expression
of the introspective force of his Puritan heritage and his knowledge,
direct and indirect, of classical literature. As in the polarity
of his thoughts concerning Providence, so here we see that the[cxli]
modus operandi of his mind is explicable in terms of the interplay
of the old and the new, Greek paganism (Socratic self-knowledge)
and Christianity and the rationale of the Enlightenment.
Before he became an economist, a statesman, a man of letters,
a scientist, he had embraced scientific deism, primarily impelled
by Newtonianism. We have observed that it is not improbable
that his agrarianism, emphasis on free trade, and tendency
toward laissez faire were partially at least the result of his efforts
to parallel in economics the harmony of the physical order.
Likewise, his views on education were conditioned by his faith
in intellectual progress, in the might of Reason, which in turn
was in part the result of his scientific deism. Then too, it may
well be suggested that his theories of rhetoric were to some degree
the result of his rationalistic and scientific habits of mind.
We have also seen that his scientific deism was among the
motivating factors of his belief in natural rights, which, coupled
with his empirical awareness of concrete economic and political
abuses issuing from monarchy and imperialistic parliamentarians,
made him alive to the sovereignty of the people in their
demands for civil and political liberty. This introduction, it
is hoped, has made apparent the fact that the growth of
Franklin's mind was a complex matter and that it was moulded
by a vast multitude of often diverse influences, no one of
which alone completely "explains" him. Puritanism, classicism,
and neoclassicism were all important influences. Yet perhaps
the modus operandi of this myriad-minded colonial, this provincial
Leonardo, is best explained in reference to the thought
pattern of scientific deism. To see the reflection of Newton and
his progeny in Franklin's activities, be they economic, political,
literary, or philosophical, lends a compelling organic unity to
the several sides of his genius, heretofore seen as unrelated.
Franklin's mind represents an intellectual coherence—an imperfect
counterpart to the physical harmony of the Newtonian
order, of which all through his life he was a disciple.
[cxlii]
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
1706. Benjamin Franklin born in Boston, January 17 (January
6, 1705, O. S.).
1714-16. After a year in Boston Grammar School is sent to
learn writing and arithmetic in school kept by George
Brownell, from which, after a year, he is taken to assist
his father, Josiah, a candlemaker.
1717. James Franklin returns from England, following apprenticeship
as printer.
1718. Benjamin is apprenticed to brother James.
1718-23. Period of assiduous reading in Anthony Collins,
Shaftesbury, Locke, Addison and Steele, Cotton Mather,
Bunyan, Defoe, etc.
1719. Writes and hawks ballads of the "Grub-Street" style,
"The Lighthouse Tragedy" and "The Taking of Teach
the Pirate."
1721-23. Aids brother in publishing the New England Courant.
During 1722-23 in charge of paper after James is
declared objectionable by the authorities.
1722. His Dogood Papers printed anonymously in the New
England Courant.
1723. Breaks his indentures and leaves for New York; eventually
arrives in Philadelphia.
1723-24. Employed by Samuel Keimer, a printer in Philadelphia.
1724. Visits Cotton Mather and Governor Burnet (New York).
Meets James Ralph, Grub-Street pamphleteer, historian,
and poet in the Thomson tradition. Patronized by
Governor Keith. Leaves for London in November on
the London-Hope to buy type, etc., for printing shop to
be set up in his behalf by Keith. Upon arrival he and
Ralph take lodgings in Little Britain.
1725-26. Employed in Palmer's and Watts's printing houses.
[cxliii]
1725. Publishes A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure
and Pain. One result of this is acquaintance with
Lyons, author of The Infallibility of Human Judgement.
Through him Franklin meets Bernard Mandeville and
Dr. Henry Pemberton, who is preparing a third edition
of Sir Isaac Newton's Principia. Is received by Sir Hans
Sloane in Bloomsbury Square. Conceives of setting up
a swimming school in London.
1726. On July 21, with Mr. Denham, merchant and Quaker,
leaves for Philadelphia on the Berkshire. Between July 22
and October 11 writes Journal of a Voyage from London
to Philadelphia. Employed by Denham until latter's
death in 1727.
1727. Ill of pleurisy and composes his epitaph. After recovery
returns to Keimer's printing house. Forms his Junto
club. Employed in Burlington, New Jersey, on a job
of printing paper money.
1728. Forms partnership with Hugh Meredith. Writes Articles
of Belief and Acts of Religion, and Rules for a Club—his
Junto club "Constitution."
1729. Buys Keimer's The Universal Instructor in all Arts and
Sciences: and Pennsylvania Gazette (begun December 24,
1728). Changes name to Pennsylvania Gazette, first issue,
XL, September 25-October 2, 1729. (Published by
Franklin until 1748, by Franklin and David Hall from
1748 to 1766, after which Hall, until his death, and others
publish it until 1815.) Contributes to American Weekly
Mercury six papers of The Busy-Body, February 4, 1729-March
27, 1729. Writes and prints A Modest Enquiry
into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency.
1730. Appointed Public Printer by Pennsylvania Assembly
(incumbent until 1764). Partnership with Meredith dissolved.
Marries Deborah Read (Mrs. Rogers). Prints
in Pennsylvania Gazette his Dialogues between Philocles
and Horatio.
[cxliv]
1731. First public venture: founds the Philadelphia Library
Company, first subscription library in America. Begins
partnership with Thomas Whitemarsh, Charleston,
S. C. (1732, publishes South Carolina Gazette.) Begins
Masonic affiliations: enters St. John's Lodge in February.
William Franklin born.
1732. Begins Poor Richard's Almanack (for 1733). His son
Francis Folger Franklin born (dies of smallpox in 1736).
Elected junior grand warden of St. John's Lodge.
1733. Begins to study languages, French, Italian, Spanish, and
continues Latin.
1734. Elected grand master of Masons of Pennsylvania for
1734-35. Reprints Anderson's Constitutions, first Masonic
book printed in America.
1735. Writes and prints three pamphlets in defense of Rev.
Mr. Hemphill. Prints, in the Pennsylvania Gazette, Protection
of Towns from Fire. Secretary of St. John's
Lodge until 1738. Writes introduction for and prints
Logan's Cato's Moral Distiches, first classic translated
and printed in the colonies.
1736. Establishes the Union Fire Company, the first in Philadelphia.
Chosen clerk of the Pennsylvania General Assembly.
1737. Appointed postmaster of Philadelphia (incumbent until
1753); also justice of the peace.
1739. Beginning of friendship with the Reverend George
Whitefield.
1740. Announces (November 13) The General Magazine and
Historical Chronicle.
1741. Six issues (January-June) of this magazine (the first
planned and the second issued in the colonies). With
J. Parker establishes a printing house in New York.
1742. Invents Franklin open stove.
1743. A Proposal for Promoting Useful Knowledge among the
British Plantations in America (circular letter sent to his
friends).
[cxlv]
1744. Establishes the American Philosophical Society and
becomes its first secretary. Daughter Sarah born. An
Account of the New Invented Pennsylvanian Fire-places.
Writes preface to and prints Logan's translation of
Cicero's Cato Major. Reprints Richardson's Pamela.
Father dies.
1746. Reflections on Courtship and Marriage, first of his writings
reprinted in Europe. Peter Collinson sends a Leyden
vial as gift to Library Company of Philadelphia.
Having witnessed Dr. Spence's experiments, Franklin
now begins his study of electricity.
1747. Plain Truth: or, Serious Considerations on the Present
State of the City of Philadelphia, and Province of Pennsylvania.
1748. Withdraws from active service in his printing and bookselling
house (Franklin and Hall). Advice to a Young
Tradesman. Chosen member of the Council of Philadelphia.
1749. Appointed provincial grand master of colonial Masons
(through 1750). Proposals Relating to the Education of
Youth in Pensilvania. Founds academy which later develops
into University of Pennsylvania. Reprints Bolingbroke's
On the Spirit of Patriotism.
1750. Appointed as one of the commissioners to make treaty
with the Indians at Carlisle.
1751. Experiments and Observations on Electricity, made at
Philadelphia in America, By Mr. Benjamin Franklin, and
Communicated in several Letters to Mr. P. Collinson, of
London, F. R. S. (London.) Idea of the English School,
Sketch'd out for the Consideration of the Trustees of the
Philadelphia Academy. Member of Assembly from
Philadelphia (incumbent until 1764). Observations Concerning
the Increase of Mankind, Peopling of Countries, Etc.
Aids Dr. Bond to establish Pennsylvania hospital.
1752. Collinson edition of Franklin's works translated into
French. Alleged kite experiment proves identity of
lightning and electricity. Invents lightning rod; in
September raises one over his own house. Mother dies.
Aids in establishing the first fire insurance company in
the colonies.
[cxlvi]
1753. Appointed (jointly with William Hunter) deputy postmaster
general of North America Post, a position he held
until 1774. Makes ten-weeks' survey of roads and post
offices in northern colonies. Abbé Nollet attacks Franklin
in Lettres sur l'électricité (Paris). Beccaria defends
Franklin's electrical theories against Abbé Nollet. Receives
M. A. from Harvard and from Yale. Receives Sir
Godfrey Copley medal from the Royal Society.
1754. Proposes Albany Plan of Union. Second edition of
Experiments and Observations on Electricity.
1755. An Act for the Better Ordering and Regulating such as are
Willing and Desirous to be United for Military Purposes
within the Province of Pennsylvania. A Dialogue Between
X, Y, & Z, concerning the Present State of Affairs in
Pennsylvania. Aids General Braddock in getting supplies
and transportation.
1756. Supervises construction efforts in province of Pennsylvania
(a task begun in 1755). Chosen Fellow of the
Royal Society of London. Chosen a member of the
London Society of Arts. Plan for Settling the Western
Colonies in North America, with Reasons for the Plan.
M. D'Alibard's edition of Franklin's electrical experiments
(French translation). Receives M. A. from William
and Mary College.
1757. Appointed colonial agent for Province of Pennsylvania
(arrives in London July 26). The Way to Wealth (for
1758). (In 1889 Ford noted: "Seventy editions of it have
been printed in English, fifty-six in French, eleven in
German, and nine in Italian. It has been translated into
Spanish, Danish, Swedish, Welsh, Polish, Gaelic, Russian,
Bohemian, Dutch, Catalan, Chinese, Modern Greek
and Phonetic writing. It has been printed at least four
hundred times, and is today as popular as ever.")
[cxlvii]
1759. Receives Doctor of Laws degree from University of St.
Andrews. September 5, made burgess and guild-brother
of Edinburgh. An Historical Review of the Constitution
and Government of Pennsylvania. (See Ford, pp. 110-111,
where he suggests that this "must still be treated as from
Franklin's pen.") Parable against Persecution. Meets
Adam Smith, Hume, Lord Kames, etc., in home of Dr.
Robertson at Edinburgh. Makes many electrical experiments.
Chosen honorary member of Philosophical
Society of Edinburgh.
1760. Provincial grand master of Pennsylvania Masons. The
Interest of Great Britain Considered with Regard to Her
Colonies. Elected to society of Dr. Bray's Associates.
(Corresponding member until 1790.) Successful close
of his issue with the proprietaries.
1761. Tour of Holland and Belgium.
1762. Receives degree of Doctor of Civil Law from Oxford.
Leaves England in August, arrives in America in October.
1763. Travels through colonies to inspect and regulate post
offices.
1764. Appointed agent for Province of Pennsylvania to petition
king for change from proprietary to royal government.
Leaves for London in November. Cool Thoughts on the
Present Situation of Our Public Affairs. A Narrative of
the Late Massacres in Lancaster County. Preface to the
Speech of Joseph Galloway, Esq.
1765. Presents Grenville with resolution of Pennsylvania
Assembly against Stamp Act.
1766. Examined in House of Commons relative to repeal of the
Stamp Act. Physical and Meteorological Observations.
With Sir John Pringle visits Germany and Holland
(June-August). Chosen foreign member of the Royal
Society of Sciences, Göttingen.
1767. With Sir John Pringle visits France (August 28-October
8). Meets French Physiocrats. Remarks and Facts
Concerning American Paper Money.
1768. Preface to Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania (J.
Dickinson). A Scheme for a New Alphabet and Reformed
Mode of Spelling. Causes of the American Discontents
before 1768. Art of Swimming. Appointed London
agent for colony of Georgia.
[cxlviii]
1769. Visits France (July-August). Appointed New Jersey
agent in London. Elected first president of the American
Philosophical Society.
1770. Appointed London agent for Massachusetts Assembly.
1771. Begins Autobiography (from 1706 to 1731) while visiting
the Bishop of St. Asaph at Twyford. Three-months' tour
of Ireland and Scotland. Entertained by Hume and Lord
Kames. Chosen corresponding member of Learned
Society of Sciences, Rotterdam.
1772. Chosen foreign member of Royal Academy of Sciences
of Paris.
1773. Abridgement of the Book of Common Prayer (with Sir
Francis Dashwood). Rules by Which a Great Empire
May Be Reduced to a Small One. M. Barbeu Dubourg's
edition of Œuvres de M. Franklin. Sends Hutchinson-Oliver
letters to Massachusetts.
1774. Examined by Wedderburn before the Privy Council
(January 29) in regard to the Hutchinson-Oliver correspondence.
Contributes notes to George Whately's
second edition of Principles of Trade. Dismissed as
deputy postmaster general of North America. Deborah
Franklin dies December 19.
1775. First postmaster general under Confederation. Returns
to America in May. Member of Philadelphia Committee
of Safety. Chosen a delegate to second Continental
Congress. An Account of Negotiations in London
for Effecting a Reconciliation between Great Britain and
the American Colonies. Appointed member of Committee
of Secret Correspondence.
1776. A commissioner to Canada. Presides over Constitutional
Convention of Pennsylvania. Appointed one of
committee to frame Declaration of Independence. In
September appointed one of three commissioners from
Congress to the French court. Leaves Philadelphia
October 27; reaches Paris December 21.
1777. Elected member of Loge des Neuf Sœurs. Chosen associate
member of Royal Medical Society of Paris.
[cxlix]
1778. Assists at initiation of Voltaire in Loge des Neuf Sœurs.
Officiates at Masonic funeral service of Voltaire. Signs
commercial treaty and alliance for mutual defense with
France. The Ephemera. Altercation with Arthur Lee.
1779. Minister plenipotentiary to French court. The Whistle.
Morals of Chess. B. Vaughan edits Franklin's Political,
Miscellaneous, and Philosophical Pieces.
1780. Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout.
1781. Chosen Fellow of American Academy of Arts and
Sciences: elected foreign member of Academy of Sciences,
Letters, and Arts of Padua, for work in natural
philosophy and politics. Appointed one of the peace
commissioners to negotiate treaty of peace between
England and United States.
1782. Elected Venerable of Loge des Neuf Sœurs.
1783. Signs treaty with Sweden. Prints Constitutions of the
United States. Elected Honorary Fellow of the Royal
Society of Edinburgh. Interest in balloons. Signs the
Treaty of Paris with John Jay and John Adams.
1784. With Le Roy, Bailly, Guillotin, Lavoisier, and others,
investigates Mesmer's animal magnetism (results in numerous
pamphlet reports). Remarks Concerning the Savages
of North America. Advice to Such as Would Remove to
America. Chosen member of Royal Academy of History,
Madrid. At Passy resumes work on Autobiography,
beyond 1731.
1785. Maritime Observations. On the Causes and Cure of
Smoky Chimneys. Signs treaty of amity and commerce
with Prussia. Resigns as minister to French Court, and
returns to Philadelphia. President of Council of Pennsylvania
(incumbent for three years). Associate member
of Academy of Sciences, Literature, and Arts of Lyons.
Councillor for Philadelphia until 1788. Member of
Philadelphia Society for the Promotion of Agriculture,
and Royal Society of Physics, National History and Arts
of Orleans, and honorary member of Manchester Literary
and Philosophical Society.
[cl]
1786. Chosen corresponding member of Society of Agriculture
of Milan.
1787. President of the Pennsylvania Society for the Abolition
of Slavery (incumbent until death). Pennsylvania delegate
to Constitutional Convention. Chosen honorary
member of Medical Society of London. Aids in establishing
the Society for Political Enquiry; elected its first
president.
1788. At Philadelphia works on Autobiography, from 1731-1757.
1789. Observations Relative to the Intentions of the Original
Founders of the Academy in Philadelphia and several
papers in behalf of abolition of slavery. At Philadelphia
resumes Autobiography, from 1757 to 1759. Chosen member
of Imperial Academy of Sciences of St. Petersburg.
1790. Paper on the slave trade, To the Editor of the Federal
Gazette, March 23. Dies, April 17, in Philadelphia.
[cli]
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
Starred items are of primary importance.
I. WORKS
Only the most useful and historically significant editions are
here listed. The student interested in other editions of Franklin's
works, the publication of his separate pamphlets, his contributions
to newspapers and periodicals, and his editorial
activities should consult P. L. Ford's Franklin Bibliography.
Many of these items are conveniently listed in The Cambridge
History of American Literature, I, 442 ff.
Experiments and Observations on Electricity, made at Philadelphia
in America, By Mr. Benjamin Franklin, and Communicated
in several Letters to P. Collinson, of London, F. R. S.
London: 1751. (For various editions and translations of this
and the supplementary letters added to first edition, consult
Ford's Bibliography.)
Political, Miscellaneous, and Philosophical Pieces; ... Written
by Benj. Franklin, LL. D. and F. R. S.... Now first collected,
With Explanatory Plates, Notes, ... [ed. by Benjamin
Vaughan]. London: 1779. ("The work is ably performed,
many pieces being for the first time printed as Franklin's;
and contains valuable notes. But what gives a special value
to this collection is that it is the only edition of Franklin's
writings [other than his scientific], which was printed during
his life time; was done with Franklin's knowledge and consent,
and contains an 'errata' made by him for it" [Ford, p. 161].
Review in Monthly Review, LXII, 199-210, 298-308, describes
his electrical experiments as constituting a "principia"
of electricity. See also Smyth, VII, 410-13, for Franklin's
own opinion.)
[clii]
Mémoires de la vie privée de Benjamin Franklin, écrits par luimême,
et adressés à son fils; suivis d'un précis historique de sa
vie politique, et de plusieurs pièces, relatives à ce père de la
liberté. Paris: 1791. (First edition of Franklin's Autobiography
to the year 1731; translation attributed to Dr. Jacques
Gibelin. "The remainder of his life is a translation from Wilmer's
Memoirs of Franklin, with the most objectionable
statements omitted" [Ford, p. 183]. For a succinct history of
Autobiography, editions, printing, translation, and fortunes
of the MS see Bigelow's introduction to Autobiography.)
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin, LL. D.
F. R. S. &c.... Written by himself to a late period, and continued
to the time of his death, by his Grandson; William
Temple Franklin. Now first published from the original MSS....
3 vols. London: 1818. (The standard collection, according
to A. H. Smyth, until Sparks's edition. Representative
review in Analectic Magazine, XI, 449-84, June, 1818.)
The Works of Benjamin Franklin; containing several political
and historical tracts not included in any former edition, and
many letters official and private not hitherto published; with
notes and a life of the author, by Jared Sparks. 10 vols. Boston:
1836-1840. (Although Sparks took undesirable editorial
liberties with the MSS, rephrasing, emending, and deleting,
this edition still possesses value for its notes and inclusion of
pieces which Smyth does not include, but which may have
been written by Franklin. Includes many valuable letters to
Franklin. For reviews see North American Review, LIX,
446, and LXXXIII, 402.)
Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Edited from his Manuscript,
with Notes and an Introduction, by John Bigelow.
Philadelphia: 1868. (To quote Ford: "This is not only the
first appearance of the autobiography from Franklin's own
copy, but also the first publication in English of the four
parts, and the first publication of the very important 'outline'
autobiography. It is therefore the first edition of the autobiography"
[p. 199].)
[cliii]
The Life of Benjamin Franklin, written by himself. Now first
edited from original manuscripts and from his printed correspondence
and other writings, by John Bigelow. 3 vols.
Philadelphia: 1874. (Bigelow text of Autobiography and extracts
from Franklin's other works.)
The Complete Works of Benjamin Franklin including his private
as well as his official and scientific correspondence, and numerous
letters and documents now for the first time printed with many
others not included in any former collection, also the unmutilated
and correct version of his autobiography. Comp. and ed. by
John Bigelow. 10 vols. New York: 1887-1889. (Corrects
many of Sparks's errors and adds "some six hundred new
pieces." For first time works are chronologically arranged.)
*The Writings of Benjamin Franklin, collected and edited with a
Life and Introduction, by Albert Henry Smyth. 10 vols. New
York: 1905-1907. (The standard edition. It is unfortunate
that the editor has omitted pieces which are either too
Rabelaisian or too metaphysically radical, such as the Dissertation
of 1725, or are, in his mind, probably not written by
Franklin.)
II. COLLECTIONS AND REPRINTS
No attempt has been made to include the learned journal
articles which reprint occasional letters not in Smyth. Letters
which aid in understanding Franklin's mind have been referred
to in the Introduction and Notes.
Chinard, Gilbert. Les amitiés américaines de Madame d'Houdetot,
d'après sa correspondance inédite avec Benjamin Franklin
et Thomas Jefferson. Paris: 1924.
Diller, Theodore. Franklin's Contribution to Medicine. Brooklyn:
1912. (Able collection of Franklin's letters bearing on
medicine. Franklin is described "as one of the greatest benefactors,
friends, and patrons of the medical profession as
well as a most substantial contributor to the science and art
of medicine.")
[cliv]
[Franklin, Benjamin.] A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity,
Pleasure and Pain. Reproduced from the first edition, with
a bibliographical note by Lawrence C. Wroth. The Facsimile
Text Society, New York: 1930. (Although A. H.
Smyth omitted this work from his Writings of Benjamin
Franklin, suggesting that "the work has no value," it is difficult
to see how a study of the modus operandi of Franklin's
mind could be thoroughly made without it. Parton in his
Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin, and I. W. Riley in his
American Philosophy: The Early Schools have reprinted it in
appendices.)
Franklin, Benjamin. Poor Richard's Almanack. Being the
Almanacks of 1733, 1749, 1756, 1757, 1758, first written under
the name of Richard Saunders. With a foreword by Phillips
Russell. Garden City, N. Y.: 1928. ("First facsimile edition
of a group of the Almanacks to be published.")
Franklin, Benjamin. The Prefaces, Proverbs, and Poems of
Benjamin Franklin Originally Printed in Poor Richard's
Almanacs for 1733-1758. Collected and ed. by P. L. Ford.
Brooklyn: 1890. (Best collection of its kind; in addition contains
account of popularity and function of almanacs in
colonial period.)
Franklin, Benjamin. Proposals Relating to the Education of
Youth in Pensilvania. Facsimile reprint, with an introduction
by William Pepper. Philadelphia: 1931. (Franklin's notes
omitted in Smyth. Proposals also reprinted by the William
L. Clements Library, Ann Arbor, Michigan: 1927; "though
not a facsimile reprint," it does include the notes. Thomas
Woody in his Educational Views of Benjamin Franklin [New
York: 1931] reprints it with the notes.)
Franklin, Benjamin. The Sayings of Poor Richard, 1733-1758.
Condensed and ed. by T. H. Russell. N.p.: n.d. (Best aphorisms
chronologically arranged.)
Goodman, N. G., ed. The Ingenious Dr. Franklin; Selected
Scientific Letters of Benjamin Franklin. Philadelphia: 1931.
(Includes several items not published in Smyth edition.)
Letters to Benjamin Franklin, from his Family and Friends,
1751-1790. [Ed. by William Duane.] New York: 1859.
Pepper, William. The Medical Side of Benjamin Franklin.
Philadelphia: 1911. (Essentially quotations from the A. H.
Smyth edition. Franklin is viewed as "an early and great
hygienist.")
[clv]
Stifler, J. M., ed. "My Dear Girl." The Correspondence of
Benjamin Franklin with Polly Stevenson, Georgiana and
Catherine Shipley. New York: 1927. (Engaging collection
showing Franklin's "capacity for lively and enduring friendship"
[p. vii]. Many of the letters to Franklin "printed now
for the first time." Contains several of Franklin's letters
hitherto unpublished.)
III. BIOGRAPHIES
Becker, Carl. "Benjamin Franklin," in Dictionary of American
Biography. New York: 1931. VI, 585-98. (The most
authoritative brief biography.)
*Bruce, W. C. Benjamin Franklin, Self-Revealed. 2 vols. New
York: 1917. (In spite of occasional extravagant statements
and a conservative temperament preventing him from discussing
Franklin's religion with sympathetic and historical
insight, Mr. Bruce has provided a brilliant and perspicuous
survey. "Self-revealed" fails to do justice to Bruce's incisive
commentary.)
*Faÿ, Bernard. Franklin, the Apostle of Modern Times. Boston:
1929. (A readable critical biography said to be based on "six
hundred to nine hundred unpublished letters." Would have
been more useful had it been given scholarly documentation.
Some new light on Franklin's Masonic activities and his
efforts during 1757-1762 to effect the growth of a British
empire. [Faÿ used the Franklin-Galloway correspondence in
the W. S. Mason and W. L. Clements collections.] Believes
that Franklin was a "follower of the seventeenth-century
English Pythagoreans": since this belief is largely undocumented,
one feels it curious that Pythagoreanism should bulk
larger than the pattern of thought provoked by Locke and
Newton. See very critical reviews by H. M. Jones in American
Literature, II, 306-12 [Nov., 1930], and W. C. Bruce,
American Historical Review, XXXV, 634 ff. [April, 1930].
The latter concludes that "there is very little, indeed, in the
text of the book under review that makes any unquestionably
substantial addition to our pre-existing knowledge of Franklin,
or is marked by anything that can be termed freshness of
interpretation.")
[clvi]
Faÿ, Bernard. The Two Franklins: Fathers of American Democracy.
Boston: 1933. (Charmingly spirited portrait of patriarchal
Franklin of Passy [reworking of materials in Franklin,
the Apostle of Modern Times]. Faÿ's habit of mingling
quotation, paraphrase, and intuition in use of Bache's
Diary suggests untrustworthy documentation. The second
Franklin is, of course, Benjamin Franklin Bache [1769-1798,
son of Sally Franklin and Richard Bache], editor of the republican
Aurora General Advertiser. For a judicial, unsympathetic
review see A. Guerard's in the New York Herald Tribune
Books, Oct. 22, 1933. J. A. Krout, in the American Historical
Review, XXXIX, 741-2 [July, 1934], observes that Faÿ
"fails to establish the elder Franklin's paternal relation to the
democratic forces of the 'revolutionary' decade after
1790.")
Fisher, S. G. The True Benjamin Franklin. Philadelphia: 1899.
(Highly prejudiced interpretation with disproportionate attention
to Franklin's acknowledged shortcomings.)
*Ford, P. L. The Many-Sided Franklin. New York: 1899. (A
gracefully solid and inclusive standard work.)
Hale, E. E., and Hale, E. E., Jr. Franklin in France. From Original
Documents, Most of Which Are Now Published for the
First Time. 2 vols. Boston: 1887-1888. (Convenient collection
of letters to Franklin; authors had access to Stevens and
American Philosophical Society collections. Franklin letters
and documents here given later published in Smyth. Useful
chapters on Franklin's friends, his vogue in France, meetings
with Voltaire, his activities in science, his interest in balloons,
and investigation of Mesmerism. See reviews in Dial, VIII,
7, IX, 204; Nation, XLIV, 368; Athenaeum, II, 77 [1887];
Atlantic Monthly, LX, 318.)
McMaster, J. B. Benjamin Franklin as a Man of Letters. American
Men of Letters series. Boston: 1887. (Fullest account of
this aspect of the many-minded Franklin. See also MacLaurin
and Jorgenson items, pp. clxv, clxvi below.)
[clvii]
More, P. E. Benjamin Franklin. Riverside Biographical Series.
Boston: 1900. (Suggestive of a précis of Parton's Life with
judicial, if not historical, penetration. Stimulating notes, such
as the following: Franklin was "a great pagan, who lapsed
now and then into the pseudo-religious platitudes of the
eighteenth-century deists.")
Morse, John Torrey, Jr. Benjamin Franklin. American Statesmen
series. Boston: 1889. (Compact account stressing his
political and diplomatic career.)
*Parton, James. Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin. 2 vols.
New York: 1864. (Although not all works ascribed to
Franklin by Parton are by his pen, and although new materials
have been added to the Franklin canon, he remains the
most encyclopedic and often the most penetrating of Franklin's
biographers. He deserves credit for printing in an
appendix Franklin's Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity,
Pleasure and Pain. For reviews see North American Review
[July, 1864]; Atlantic Monthly [Sept., 1864]; London Quarterly,
XXIII, 483; Littell's Living Age, LXXXIV, 289.)
Russell, Phillips. Benjamin Franklin, the First Civilised American.
New York: 1926. (The esprit and readableness of this
popular work do not offset its lack of precision, historical
scholarship, and taste.)
Smyth, Albert H. "Life of Benjamin Franklin," in Vol. X, 141-510,
of The Writings of Benjamin Franklin. (Stimulating
survey.)
Swift, Lindsay. Benjamin Franklin. Beacon Biographies of
Eminent Americans. Boston: 1910. (Brief series of biographical
"impressions" arranged chronologically.)
Weems, Mason L. The Life of Benjamin Franklin, with many
Choice Anecdotes and Admirable Sayings of this Great Man.
Baltimore: 1815. (One would think it unfair to smile
at a writer who had the wit to describe Franklin as one who
"with such equal ease, could play the Newton or the Chesterfield,
and charm alike the lightnings and the ladies." Contains
some imaginative, though intuitive, remarks on Franklin's
religion.)
[clviii]
IV. BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL STUDIES
Abbe, C. "Benjamin Franklin as Meteorologist," Proceedings
of the American Philosophical Society, XLV, 117-28 (1906).
("Worthy co-laborer" with Newton, Huygens, Descartes,
Boyle, and Gay-Lussac. He is "the first meteorologist of
America," "pioneer of the rational long-range forecasters.")
Abbot, G. M. A Short History of the Library Company of
Philadelphia: Compiled from the Minutes, together with some
personal reminiscences. Philadelphia: 1913.
Amiable, L. Une loge maçonnique d'avant 1789. La R.·. L.·.
Les Neuf Sœurs. Paris: 1897. (Fullest account of Franklin's
activities in French Freemasonry.)
Analectic Magazine, XI, 449-84 (June, 1818). (Review of W.
T. Franklin's edition of Franklin's works. Complexion of
this eulogy suggested by: "His name is now exalted in Europe
above any others of the eighteenth century.")
Angoff, Charles. A Literary History of the American People.
New York: 1931. II, 295-310. (It would be difficult to
match the debonair ignorance of this violently hostile essay.)
"A Poem on the Death of Franklin," Proceedings of the New
Jersey Historical Society, XV, 109 (Jan., 1930). (A typical
elegy based on theme suggested by Turgot's epigram on
Franklin.)
Bache, R. M. "Smoky Torches in Franklin's Honor," Critic,
XLVIII, 561-6 (June, 1906). (Charming in its caustic though
just view that "articles on Franklin have verged on superfluity.")
Bache, R. M. "The So-Called 'Franklin Prayer-Book,'" Pennsylvania
Magazine of History and Biography, XXI, 225-34
(1897). (See Rev. John Wright's account of the same in Early
Prayer Books of America [St. Paul: 1896], pp. 386-99.)
Biddison, P. "The Magazine Franklin Failed to Remember,"
American Literature, IV, 177-80 (May, 1932). (Survey of the
Franklin-Webbe altercation concerning the inauguration of
Franklin's General Magazine, and Historical Chronicle ...,
1741.)
[clix]
Bigelow, John. "Franklin as the Man," Independent, LX, 69-72
(Jan. 11, 1906). (Stresses his tolerance, common sense, and
"constitutional unwillingness to dogmatize.")
Bleyer, W. G. Main Currents in the History of American Journalism.
Boston: 1927. (Chapters I-II contain excellent survey
of the New England Courant, and the Pennsylvania
Gazette during its formative years. Bibliography, pp. 431-41.)
Bloore, Stephen. "Joseph Breintnall, First Secretary of the
Library Company," Pennsylvania Magazine of History and
Biography, LIX, 42-56 (Jan., 1935). (Valuable notes on
Franklin's collaborator in Busy-Body series.)
Bloore, Stephen. "Samuel Keimer. A Foot-note to the Life of
Franklin," Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography,
LIV, 255-87 (July, 1930). (Readers of the Autobiography
will appreciate this excellent study of one who figures prominently
in its pages.)
Brett-James, N. G. The Life of Peter Collinson. London: [1917].
(Many notes on Franklin-Collinson friendship. Collinson, it
is remembered, "started Franklin on his career as a researcher
in electricity.")
Buckingham, J. T. Specimens of Newspaper Literature; with
Personal Memoirs, Anecdotes, and Reminiscences. 2 vols.
Boston: 1850. (Vol. I, 49-88, discusses New England
Courant. Identifies Dogood Papers as Franklin's.)
Bullen, H. L. "Benjamin Franklin and What Printing Did for
Him," American Collector, II, 284-91 (May, 1926).
Butler, Ruth L. Doctor Franklin, Postmaster General. Garden
City, N. Y.: 1928. (A sturdily documented study illustrating
that Franklin "furnished the most highly efficient administration
to the postal system during the colonial period.")
Canby, H. S. "Benjamin Franklin," in Classic Americans.
New York: 1931, pp. 34-45. (Spirited estimate partly vitiated
by excessive emphasis on influence of Quakerism; Canby
observes that Franklin's mind represents "Quakerism conventionalized,
stylized, and Deicized.")
*Carey, Lewis J. Franklin's Economic Views. Garden City, N. Y.:
1928. (Excellent survey.)
[clx]
Cestre, Charles. "Franklin, homme représentatif," Revue
Anglo-Américaine, 409-23, 505-22 (June, August, 1928).
Choate, J. H. "Benjamin Franklin," in Abraham Lincoln, and
Other Addresses in England. New York: 1910, pp. 47-94.
(Sanely eulogistic biographical survey.)
Condorcet, Marquis de. Éloge de M. Franklin, lu à la séance
publique de l'Académie des Sciences, le 13 Nov., 1790 ...
Paris: 1791. (Both a eulogy, and an interpretation of why
France, as representative of the Enlightenment, eulogized
the Philadelphia tradesman. By the most sublime of the
philosophes.)
Cook, E. C. Literary Influences in Colonial Newspapers, 1704-1750.
New York: 1912. (Trenchant analysis of Franklin's
indebtedness to Addison and Steele—especially in the Dogood
Papers—the character of the New England Courant, advertisements
of books in Pennsylvania Gazette, etc. "Benjamin
Franklin was the only prominent man of the period who
deliberately attempted to spread the knowledge and love of
literature among his countrymen.")
Crane, V. W. "Certain Writings of Benjamin Franklin on the
British Empire and the American Colonies," Papers of the
Bibliographical Society, XXVIII, Pt. 1, 1-27 (1934). (Newly
identified Franklin papers more than double existing canon.
He becomes "the chief agent of the American propaganda in
England, especially between 1765 and 1770." New canon
promises to "illuminate the development of Franklin's political
ideas." Very significant.)
Cumston, C. G. "Benjamin Franklin from the Medical Viewpoint,"
New York Medical Journal, LXXXIX, 3-12 (Jan.
2, 1909). (Useful survey.)
Cutler, W. P., and Cutler, J. P. Life, Journals and Correspondence
of Rev. Manasseh Cutler. 2 vols. Cincinnati: 1888.
(Portrait of patriarchal Franklin at age of eighty-four.)
Dickinson, A. D. "Benjamin Franklin, Bookman," Bookman,
LIII, 197-205 (May, 1921). (Brief account of Franklin imprints.)
[clxi]
Discours du Comte de Mirabeau. Dans la séance du 11 Juin, sur
la mort de Benjamin Francklin [sic]. Imprimé par ordre de
l'Assemblée National. Paris: 1790.
Draper, J. W. "Franklin's Place in the Science of the Last
Century," Harper's Magazine, LXI, 265-75 (July, 1880).
(Franklin's discoveries "were only embellishments of his
life." Superficial.)
Duniway, C. A. The Development of Freedom of the Press in
Massachusetts. Cambridge, Mass.: 1906. (Chapter VI includes
account of James Franklin and the New England
Courant.)
Eddy, G. S. "Dr. Benjamin Franklin's Library," Proceedings
of the American Antiquarian Society, N. S. XXXIV, 206-26
(Oct., 1924). (This indefatigable scholar has ascertained the
titles of 1350 volumes in Franklin's library. This survey
article does not list the titles.)
*Eiselen, M. R. Franklin's Political Theories. Garden City,
N. Y.: 1928. (Thoughtful survey.)
Eiselen, M. R. The Rise of Pennsylvania Protectionism. Philadelphia:
1932. (University of Pennsylvania dissertation.
Chapter I describes Franklin's holding to laissez faire in a
state dominantly protectionist.)
Eliot, T. D. "The Relations Between Adam Smith and Benjamin
Franklin before 1776," Political Science Quarterly,
XXXIX, 67-96 (March, 1924). (Exhaustive documentary
data which fails to establish specific and incontrovertible
Franklin influence on Smith.)
"Excerpts from the Papers of Dr. Benjamin Rush," Pennsylvania
Magazine of History and Biography, XXIX, 15-30
(Jan., 1905). (Includes "Conversations with Franklin," pp.
23-8: Franklin terms Latin and Greek the "quackery of
literature"; is alleged to have reprobated the Pennsylvania
Constitution of 1776, in that it placed "the Supreme power of
the State in the hands of a Single legislature." Other interesting
sidelights.)
[clxii]
Farrand, Max, ed. The Records of the Federal Convention of 1787.
3 vols. New Haven: 1911. (Records show Franklin as a
sober moderator: when rival factions tended to render the
convention impotent, he said, "When a broad table is to be
made, and the edges <of planks do not fit> the artist takes a
little from both, and makes a good joint.")
Fauchet, Claude. Éloge civique de Benjamin Franklin, prononcé,
le 21 Juillet 1790, dans la Rotonde, au nom de la
Commune de Paris. Paris: 1790.
Faÿ, Bernard. "Franklin et Mirabeau collaborateurs," Revue
de Littérature Comparée, VIII, 5-28 (1928). (Franklin furnished
materials for Mirabeau's Considerations on the Order of
Cincinnatus.)
Faÿ, Bernard. "Learned Societies in Europe and America in
the Eighteenth Century," American Historical Review,
XXXVII, 255-66 (Jan., 1932). (Urges that like all learned societies
in the eighteenth century, Franklin's Junto and American
Philosophical Society "had Masonic leanings.")
Faÿ, Bernard. "Le credo de Franklin," Correspondant, 570-8
(Feb. 25, 1930).
Faÿ, Bernard. "Les débuts de Franklin en France," Revue de
Paris, 577-605 (Feb. 1, 1931).
Faÿ, Bernard. "Les dernières amours d'un philosophe," Correspondant,
381-96 (May 10, 1930).
Faÿ, Bernard. "Le triomphe de Franklin en France," Revue de
Paris, 872-96 (Feb. 15, 1931).
Ford, P. L. "Franklin as Printer and Publisher," Century
Magazine, LVII, 803-17 (April, 1899).
Ford, W. C. "Franklin and Chatham," Independent, LX, 94-7
(Jan. 11, 1906).
Ford, W. C. "Franklin's New England Courant," Proceedings
of the Massachusetts Historical Society, LVII, 336-53 (April,
1924).
Ford, W. C. "One of Franklin's Friendships. From Hitherto
Unpublished Correspondence between Madame de Brillon
and Benjamin Franklin, 1776-1789," Harper's Magazine,
CXIII, 626-33 (Sept., 1906).
Foster, J. W. "Franklin as a Diplomat," Independent, LX, 84-9
(Jan. 11, 1906).
[clxiii]
Fox, R. H. Dr. John Fothergill and His Friends; Chapters in
Eighteenth Century Life. London: 1919. (Franklin and
Fothergill, "lovers of nature and keen students of physical
science," met in 1757. See also J. C. Lettsom, Memoirs of
John Fothergill, 4th ed., London: 1786.)
Garrison, F. W. "Franklin and the Physiocrats," Freeman,
VIII, 154-6 (Oct. 24, 1923). (Transcended by Carey's
chapter in Franklin's Economic Views, but has quotation from
Dupont de Nemours [1769]: "Who does not know that the
English have today their Benjamin Franklin, who has adopted
the principles and the doctrines of our French economists?")
Goggio, E. "Benjamin Franklin and Italy," Romanic Review,
XIX, 302-8 (Oct., 1928). (Largely through the efforts of G.
Beccaria, "Benjamin Franklin was one of the first Americans
to gain eminence and popularity among the people of Italy.")
Goode, G. B. "The Literary Labors of Benjamin Franklin,"
Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, XXVIII,
177-97 (1890).
Grandgent, C. H. "Benjamin Franklin the Reformer," in
Prunes and Prisms, with Other Odds and Ends. Cambridge,
Mass.: 1928, pp. 86-97. ("The principles advocated in his
unfinished exposition [on spelling reform] are those which
phoneticians now advocate.")
Greene, S. A. "The Story of a Famous Book," Atlantic Monthly,
XXVII, 207-12 (Feb., 1871). (A kind of précis of Bigelow's
Introduction to Autobiography.)
Griswold, A. W. "Three Puritans on Prosperity," New England
Quarterly, VII, 475-93 (Sept., 1934). (Cotton Mather,
Timothy Dwight, and Franklin. One wonders by what right
Franklin is dubbed the "soul of Puritanism.")
Guedalla, Philip. "Dr. Franklin," in Fathers of the Revolution.
New York: 1926, pp. 215-34. (Chatty popular review of
"the first high-priest of the religion of efficiency.")
Guillois, Antoine. Le salon de Madame Helvétius. Paris: 1894.
Gummere, R. M. "Socrates at the Printing Press. Benjamin
Franklin and the Classics," Classical Weekly, XXVI, 57-9
(Dec. 5, 1932). (Survey of his references to the classics, with
occasional estimates of impact on his mind.)
[clxiv]
Hale, E. E. "Ben Franklin's Ballads," New England Magazine,
N. S. XVIII, 505-7 (1898). (Thinks "The Downfall of
Piracy," found in Ashton's Real Sea-Songs, is "one of the
two lost ballads" Franklin mentions in Autobiography.)
Hale, E. E. "Franklin as Philosopher and Moralist," Independent,
LX, 89-93 (Jan. 11, 1906). (Does not go beyond terming
Franklin's philosophy common sense.)
Harrison, Frederic. "Benjamin Franklin," in Memories and
Thoughts. New York: 1906, pp. 119-23. (Keen appraisal.)
Hart, C. H. "Benjamin Franklin in Allegory," Century Magazine,
XLI (N. S. XIX), 197-204 (Dec., 1890). (The French
sanctify Franklin in allegory.)
Hart, C. H. "Who Was the Mother of Franklin's Son? An
Inquiry Demonstrating that She Was Deborah Read, Wife of
Benjamin Franklin," Pennsylvania Magazine of History and
Biography, XXXV, 308-14 (July, 1911). (Plausible circumstantial
evidence is offered.)
Hays, I. M. The Chronology of Benjamin Franklin, Founder of
the American Philosophical Society. Philadelphia: 1904.
Hill, D. J. "A Missing Chapter of Franco-American History,"
American Historical Review, XXI, 709-19 (July, 1916).
(Political interests of Masonic "Lodge of the Nine Sisters,"
Paris, of which Franklin was an active member. Franklin described
as "creator of constitutionalism in Europe.")
Houston, E. J. "Franklin as a Man of Science and an Inventor,"
Journal of the Franklin Institute, CLXI, Nos. 4-5, 241-383
(April-May, 1906).
Hulbert, C. Biographical Sketches of Dr. Benjamin Franklin,
General Washington, and Thomas Paine; with an Essay on
Atheism and Infidelity. London: 1820. (Franklin and Washington
made almost saintly to contrast with Paine, "a notorious
Unbeliever." Quotes one who sees Franklin as "the
patriot of the world, the playmate of the lightning, the
philosopher of liberty.")
Jackson, M. K. Outlines of the Literary History of Colonial
Pennsylvania. Lancaster, Pa.: 1906. (Especially chapter III,
which surveys Franklin as man of letters.)
[clxv]
Jernegan, M. W. "Benjamin Franklin's 'Electrical Kite' and
Lightning Rod," New England Quarterly, I, 180-96 (April,
1928). ("The question still remains however whether Franklin
flew his kite before he heard of the French experiments,
and thus discovered the identity of lightning and electricity
independently." Summarizes and supersedes: McAdie, A.,
"The Date of Franklin's Kite Experiment," Proceedings of
the American Antiquarian Society, N. S. XXXIV, 188-205;
Rotch, A. L., "Did Benjamin Franklin Fly His Electrical
Kite before He Invented the Lightning Rod?" Proceedings
of the American Antiquarian Society, N. S. XVIII, 115-23.)
Jordan, J. W. "Franklin as a Genealogist," Pennsylvania Magazine
of History and Biography, XXIII, 1-22 (April, 1899).
Jorgenson, C. E. "A Brand Flung at Colonial Orthodoxy.
Samuel Keimer's 'Universal Instructor in All Arts and Sciences,'"
Journalism Quarterly, XII, 272-7 (Sept., 1935).
(Shows deistic tendencies.)
Jorgenson, C. E. "The New Science in the Almanacs of Ames
and Franklin," New England Quarterly, VIII, 555-61 (Dec.,
1935). (Newtonianism and scientific deism diffused through
these popular almanacs.)
Jorgenson, C. E. "Sidelights on Benjamin Franklin's Principles
of Rhetoric," Revue Anglo-Américaine, 208-22 (Feb., 1934).
(Franklin's principles in general are consonant with the eighteenth-century
neoclassic ideals.)
Jorgenson, C. E. "The Source of Benjamin Franklin's Dialogues
between Philocles and Horatio (1730)," American
Literature, VI, 337-9 (Nov., 1934). (The source is Shaftesbury's
"The Moralists," in the Characteristics.)
*Jusserand, J. J. "Franklin in France," in Essays Offered to
Herbert Putnam ... Ed. by W. W. Bishop and A. Keogh.
New Haven: 1929, pp. 226-47. (Delightful summary.)
Kane, Hope F. "James Franklin Senior, Printer of Boston and
Newport," American Collector, III, 17-26 (Oct., 1926). (A
study of his New England Courant and his place in the development
of freedom of the press.)
[clxvi]
King, M. R. "One Link in the First Newspaper Chain, The
South Carolina Gazette," Journalism Quarterly, IX, 257-68
(Sept., 1932). (Franklin's partnership with Thomas Whitemarsh
in 1731 is here alleged to have begun the first American
newspaper "chain.")
Kite, Elizabeth S. "Benjamin Franklin—Diplomat," Catholic
World, CXLII, 28-37 (Oct., 1935). (An intelligent and
appreciative brief survey of the subject, with a considerable
preface showing the extent to which Franklin's worldly
success grew out of his religious views.)
Lees, F. "The Parisian Suburb of Passy: Its Architecture in
the Days of Franklin," Architectural Record, XII, 669-83
(Dec., 1902). (Several good illustrations included.)
Livingston, L. S. Franklin and His Press at Passy; An Account of
the Books, Pamphlets, and Leaflets Printed There, including
the Long-Lost Bagatelles. The Grolier Club, New York:
1914. (For additions to this work begun by L. S. Livingston,
see R. G. Adams, "The 'Passy-ports' and Their Press,"
American Collector, IV, 177-80 [Aug., 1927], which includes
bibliography useful to study of the Passy imprints.)
MacDonald, William. "The Fame of Franklin," Atlantic Monthly,
XCVI. 450-62 (Oct., 1905).
Mackay, Constance D'A. Franklin. A Play. New York: 1922.
MacLaurin, Lois M. Franklin's Vocabulary. Garden City,
N. Y.: 1928. (His "conservative ideas about linguistic innovations"
are to a notable degree achieved in his practices.
For example, of a vocabulary of 4062 words used in his
writings between 1722 and 1751, "only 19 were discovered to
be pure 'Americanisms.'")
McMaster, J. B. "Franklin in France," Atlantic Monthly, LX,
318-26 (Sept., 1887). (Good survey, based on Hale and Hale,
Franklin in France.)
Malone, Kemp. "Benjamin Franklin on Spelling Reform,"
American Speech, I, 96-100 (Nov., 1925). (Franklin was the
"first American to tackle English phonetics scientifically.")
[clxvii]
Mason, W. S. "Franklin and Galloway: Some Unpublished
Letters," Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society,
N. S. XXXIV, 227-58 (Oct., 1924). (Significant sidelights
cast on "the problems of Pennsylvania colonial history from
1757 to 1760." Excellent summary of Franklin's and Galloway's
victory over the Proprietors. Mr. Mason's collection
includes many valuable letters [Franklin-Galloway] between
1757 and 1772, not published in Smyth.)
Mathews, Mrs. L. K. "Benjamin Franklin's Plans for a Colonial
Union, 1750-1775," American Political Science Review, VIII,
393-412 (Aug., 1914).
Melville, Herman. Israel Potter. London: 1923. (Graphic
intuitive portrait of Franklin: he lives as a "household Plato,"
"a practical Magian in linsey-woolsey," a "didactically waggish,"
prudent courtier who "was everything but a poet.")
Mémoires de l'Abbé Morellet, de l'Académie Française, sur le dixhuitième
siècle et sur la Révolution. 2 vols. Paris: 1821.
(Especially II, 286-311. Franklin viewed as very emblem of
Liberty.)
Montgomery, T. H. A History of the University of Pennsylvania
from Its Foundation to A. D. 1770. Philadelphia: 1900.
Monthly Review; or Literary Journal: By Several Hands.
London: 1770. XLII, 199-210, 298-308. ("The experiments
and observations of Dr. Franklin constitute the principia of
electricity, and form the basis of a system equally simple and
profound.")
*More, P. E. "Benjamin Franklin," in Shelburne Essays, Fourth
Series. New York: 1906, pp. 129-55. (Provocative appraisal:
stresses Franklin's "contemporaneity," his tendency
to be oblivious to the past—a suggestive, if a moot point.)
Morgan, W. Memoirs of the Life of Rev. Richard Price. London:
1815. (Notes on Franklin's relations with Price during
early 1760's; meetings at Royal Society and London Coffee-house.)
Mottay, F. Benjamin Franklin et la philosophie pratique. Paris:
1886. (Good model for citizens of a free nation and "le
véritable catechisme de l'homme vertueux." Also several
just remarks on his style which possesses "les mots épiques
d'un Corneille et les élégantes périphrases d'un Racine.")
[clxviii]
Moulton, C. W., ed. Library of Literary Criticism of English
and American Authors. Buffalo, N. Y.: 1901. IV, 79-106.
(Stimulating assembly of extracts which aids student in discovering
the history of Franklin's reputation.)
Mustard, W. P. "Poor Richard's Poetry," Nation, LXXXII,
239, 279 (March 22, April 5, 1906). (Indicates Franklin's
borrowings from Dryden, Pope, Prior, Gay, Swift, and
others.)
Nichols, E. L. "Franklin as a Man of Science," Independent,
LX, 79-84 (Jan. 11, 1906). (Franklin's mind "turned ever
by preference to the utilitarian and away from the theoretical
and speculative aspects of things.")
"Notice sur Benjamin Franklin," in Œuvres posthumes de
Cabanis. Paris: 1825, pp. 219-74. (Representative in its
rapturous eulogy.)
Oberholtzer, E. P. The Literary History of Philadelphia. Philadelphia:
1906. (Chap. II, "The Age of Franklin," written with
conservative bias, belabors Franklin who as a statesman "was
almost as wrong as Paine and Mirabeau." What Voltaire
was to France, Franklin was to his native city and state.)
Oswald, J. C. Benjamin Franklin in Oil and Bronze. New
York: 1926. ("Probably the features and form of no man
who ever lived were delineated so frequently and in such a
variety of ways as were those of Benjamin Franklin." Best
survey of its kind, including many excellent reproductions.)
Oswald, J. C. Benjamin Franklin, Printer. Garden City, N. Y.:
1917. (Fullest and ablest account of this phase of Franklin's
life.)
Owen, E. D. "Where Did Benjamin Franklin Get the Idea for
His Academy?" Pennsylvania Magazine of History and
Biography, LVIII, 86-94 (Jan., 1934). (Inconclusive evidence
attributing it to Dr. Philip Doddridge.)
[clxix]
*Parker, Theodore. "Benjamin Franklin," in Historic Americans.
Ed. with notes by S. A. Eliot. Boston: 1908 [written in
1858]. (Franklin "thinks, investigates, theorizes, invents,
but never does he dream." Although Parker, an idealist and
reformer, exalts "the sharp outline of his [Franklin's] exact
idea," his humanitarianism, his combining the "rare excellence
of Socrates and Bacon" in making things "easy for all
to handle and comprehend," he concludes that Franklin is
"a saint devoted to the almighty dollar." There are few
more readable estimates.)
*Parrington, V. L. "Benjamin Franklin," in The Colonial Mind,
1620-1800. New York: 1927, pp. 164-78. (Emphasizes
Franklin's tendencies toward agrarian democracy; Parrington's
indifference to the genetic approach and his chronic
economic determinism lead him to slight the primary importance
of Franklin's religious and philosophic views in conditioning
his other activities.)
Pennington, E. L. "The Work of the Bray Associates in
Pennsylvania," Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography,
LVIII, 1-25 (Jan., 1934). (Franklin's humanitarian
interest in negro education. In 1758 he writes from London
urging school for instructing young Negroes in Philadelphia.)
Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, XXV, 307-22,
516-26 (1901), XXVI, 81-90, 255-64 (1902). (Reprints
one of Dean Tucker's pamphlets with Franklin's annotations.
Casts light on Franklin's loyalty to the Crown, while
rebellious against Parliament.)
Potamian, Brother, and Walsh, J. J. Makers of Electricity.
New York: 1909. ("Franklin and Some Contemporaries,"
chapter II, pp. 68-132, by Brother Potamian, is an excellent
survey of Franklin's contributions to the science of electricity.)
Powell, E. P. "A Study of Benjamin Franklin," Arena, VIII,
477-91 (Sept., 1893). (Fair survey of Franklin as a diplomatist.)
Priestley, J. The History and Present State of Electricity, with
Original Experiments. London: 1767. (Many notes observing
Franklin's "truly philosophical greatness of mind."
Preface contains suggestive generalizations concerning function
of the natural philosopher: especially, he who experiments
in electricity discerns laws of nature, "that is, of the God of
nature himself.")
[clxx]
Rava, Luigi. "La fortuna di Beniamino Franklin in Italia,"
Prefazione al volume Beniamino Franklin di Lawrence Shaw
Mayo. Firenze: n.d.
Repplier, Emma. "Franklin's Trials as a Benefactor," Lippincott's
Magazine, LXXVII, 63-70 (Jan., 1906). (Concerning
those who during the Revolution wrote Franklin for favors
and places.)
Riddell, W. R. "Benjamin Franklin and Colonial Money,"
Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, LIV, 52-64
(Jan., 1930).
Riddell, W. R. "Benjamin Franklin's Mission to Canada and
the Causes of Its Failure," Pennsylvania Magazine of History
and Biography, XLVIII, 111-58 (April, 1924).
*Riley, I. W. American Philosophy: The Early Schools. New
York: 1907, pp. 229-65. (Conventional view of Franklin's
deism; with C. M. Walsh [see below], Riley overemphasizes
influence of Plato on Franklin's thought.)
Riley, I. W. American Thought from Puritanism to Pragmatism
and Beyond. New York: 1915, pp. 68-77. (Graphic
glimpses of "most precocious of the American skeptics.")
Rosengarten, J. G. "The American Philosophical Society,"
reprinted from Founders' Week Memorial Volume. Philadelphia:
1908.
Ross, E. D. "Benjamin Franklin as an Eighteenth-Century
Agriculture Leader," Journal of Political Economy, XXXVII,
52-72 (Feb., 1929). (No "rural sentimentalist," Franklin
experimented in agriculture, particularly during 1747-1755,
as a utilitarian idealist. Quotes one who suggests Franklin
was "half physiocratic before the rise of the physiocratic
school." Excellent and well-documented survey.)
Sachse, J. F. Benjamin Franklin as a Free Mason. Philadelphia:
1906. ("To write the history of Franklin as a
Freemason is virtually to chronicle the early Masonic history
of America." Soundly documented survey. Includes useful
chronological table of Franklin's Masonic activities.)
[clxxi]
*Sainte-Beuve, C. A. Portraits of the Eighteenth Century. Tr. by
K. P. Wormeley, with a critical introduction by E. Scherer.
New York: 1905. I, 311-75. (The two essays on Franklin
in Causeries du lundi are "here put together," though with
no important omissions from either. Brilliant portrait of the
"most gracious, smiling, and persuasive utilitarian," one
who assigned "no part to human imagination.")
Seipp, Erika. Benjamin Franklins Religion und Ethik. Darmstadt:
1932. (Suggestive, though brief, view of Franklin's
deism and utilitarianism. Attempts to see his thought in
reference to various representative deists. This is not, however,
a "source" study.)
Shepherd, W. R. History of Proprietary Government in Pennsylvania.
New York: 1896. (Franklin emerges as "a sort
of tribune to the people," a "mighty Goliath," a "plague"
in the eyes of the feudalistic rulers of Pennsylvania, "a huge
fief." Author relatively unsympathetic to Franklin.)
*Sherman, S. P. "Franklin and the Age of Enlightenment," in
Americans. New York: 1922, pp. 28-62. (Penetrating survey
and estimate.)
Smith, William, D.D. Eulogium on Benjamin Franklin. Philadelphia:
1792. (One agrees with P. L. Ford, that this work
"forms a somewhat amusing contrast to the savageness
of the Doctor's earlier writings against Franklin." Bombastic
in its rhetoric and eulogy.)
Smythe, J. H., Jr., comp. The Amazing Benjamin Franklin.
New York: 1929. (Anthology of brief, popular estimates.
If individual notes are trivial, the collection illustrates Franklin's
many-mindedness, a Renaissance versatility.)
Sonneck, O. G. "Benjamin Franklin's Relation to Music,"
Music, XIX, 1-14 (Nov., 1900).
Steell, Willis. Benjamin Franklin of Paris, 1776-1785. New
York: 1928. (An undocumented, partly imaginative, popular
account.)
Stifler, J. M. The Religion of Benjamin Franklin. New York:
1925. (Popular survey. Warm appreciation of Franklin's
penchant for projects of a humanitarian sort.)
[clxxii]
Stuber, Henry. "Life of Franklin" [a biography meant as a
continuation of Franklin's Autobiography], in Columbian
Magazine and Universal Asylum, May, July, September,
October, November, 1790, and February, March, May, June,
1791.
*Thorpe, F. N., ed. Benjamin Franklin and the University of
Pennsylvania. U. S. Bureau of Education, Circular of Information,
No. 2 (1892). Washington: 1893. (See especially
chapters I, II, written by Thorpe, which deal particularly
with Franklin's ideas of self and formal education.)
Titus, Rev. Anson. "Boston When Ben Franklin Was a Boy,"
Proceedings of the Bostonian Society, pp. 55-72 (1906). (Brief
suggestive view of the climate of opinion with regard to inoculation,
Newtonianism, and Lockian sensationalism.)
Trent, W. P. "Benjamin Franklin," McClure's Magazine, VIII,
273-7 (Jan., 1897). ("The most complete representative of
his century that any nation can point to." Franklin "thoroughly
represents his age in its practicality, in its devotion to
science, in its intellectual curiosity, in its humanitarianism, in
its lack of spirituality, in its calm self-content—in short, in its
exaltation of prose and reason over poetry and faith." An
enthusiastic and wise account.)
Trowbridge, John. "Franklin as a Scientist," Publications of the
Colonial Society of Massachusetts, XVIII (1917). (Excellent
appreciation of Franklin's capacity for inductive reasoning.)
Tuckerman, H. T. "Character of Franklin," North American
Review, LXXXIII, 402-22 (Oct., 1856). (Praises disinterestedness
of Franklin as a scientist, as "one whom Bacon
would have hailed as a disciple," although he "is not adapted
to beguile us 'along the line of infinite desires.'")
Tudury, M. "Poor Richard," Bookman, LXIV, 581-4 (Jan.,
1927). (Popular glance at "cynical patriarch of American
letters.")
Typothetae Bulletin, XXII, No. 15 (Jan. 11, 1926). (Issue devoted
to the printer Franklin.)
Vicq d'Azyr, Félix. Éloge de Franklin. N.p.: 1791.
[clxxiii]
Victory, Beatrice M. Benjamin Franklin and Germany. Americana
Germanica series, No. 21. Press of the University of
Pennsylvania: 1915. (Sources reflecting Franklin's reputation
in Germany of particular interest.)
Walsh, C. M. "Franklin and Plato," Open Court, XX, 129-33
(March, 1906). (An attempt to interpret his Articles of Belief,
1728, in terms of the Timaeus, Protagoras, Republic, and
Euthyphro.)
Webster, Noah. Dissertations on the English Language: With
Notes, Historical and Critical. To which is added, By Way of
Appendix, an Essay on a Reformed Mode of Spelling, with Dr.
Franklins Arguments on that Subject. Boston: 1789. (Notable
remarks on Franklin's perspicuous and correct style
which is "plain and elegantly neat": he "writes for the child
as well as the philosopher.")
Wendell, Barrett. A Literary History of America. New York:
1900. (Franklin estimate, pp. 92-103.)
Wetzel, W. A. Benjamin Franklin as an Economist. Johns
Hopkins University Studies in Historical and Political Science,
Thirteenth Series, IX, 421-76. Baltimore: 1895. (Useful summary,
but superseded by Carey's Franklin's Economic Views.)
Wharton, A. H. "The American Philosophical Society,"
Atlantic Monthly, LXI, 611-24 (May, 1888).
Bibliographical suggestions relating to Franklin's American
friends and contemporaries will be found following the brief but
scholarly studies in the Dictionary of American Biography. Of
these see especially John Adams (also G. Chinard, Honest John
Adams, Boston, 1933); Samuel Adams; Ethan Allen; Nathaniel
Ames; Joel Barlow (also V. C. Miller, Joel Barlow: Revolutionist,
London, 1791-92, Hamburg, 1932, and T. A. Zunder, Early Days
of Joel Barlow, New Haven, 1934); John Bartram; William Bartram
(also N. Fagin, William Bartram, Baltimore, 1933); Hugh H.
Brackenridge (also C. Newlin, Brackenridge, Princeton, 1933);
Cadwallader Colden; John Dickinson; Philip Freneau; Francis
Hopkinson; T. Jefferson; Cotton Mather; Jonathan Mayhew;
Thomas Paine; David Rittenhouse; Dr. Benjamin Rush (also
N. Goodman, Rush, Philadelphia, 1934); Rev. William Smith;
Ezra Stiles; John Trumbull; Noah Webster.
[clxxiv]
V. THE AGE OF FRANKLIN
Adams, J. T. Provincial Society, 1690-1763. (Volume III of
A History of American Life, ed. Fox and Schlesinger.) New
York: 1927. (Contains useful "Critical Essay on Authorities"
consulted, pp. 324-56, which serves as a guide for further
study of many phases of the social history of the period.)
Adams, R. G. Political Ideas of the American Revolution.
Durham, N. C.: 1922.
Andrews, C. M. The Colonial Background of the American
Revolution. New Haven: 1924. (Stresses economic factors
and the need of viewing the subject from the European angle;
profitably used as companion study to Beer's British Colonial
Policy.)
Baldwin, Alice M. The New England Clergy and the American
Revolution. Durham, N. C.: 1928. (Prior to 1763 the clergy
popularized "doctrines of natural right, the social contract,
and the right of resistance" and principles of American
constitutional law.)
Beard, C. A. The Economic Origins of Jeffersonian Democracy.
New York: 1915. (Suggestive, if other factors are not
neglected. See C. H. Hull's review in American Historical
Review, XXII, 401-3.)
Becker, Carl. The Declaration of Independence; A Study in the
History of Political Ideas. New York: 1922. (Excellent
survey of natural rights, and the extent to which this concept
was influenced by Newtonianism.)
Becker, Carl. The Heavenly City of the Eighteenth-Century
Philosophers. New Haven: 1932. (R. S. Crane observes,
after calling attention to certain obscurities and confusions:
"The description of the general temper of the 'philosophers,'
the characterization of the principal eighteenth-century
historians, much at least of the final chapter on the idea of
progress—these can be read with general approval for their
content and with a satisfaction in Becker's prose style that is
unalloyed by considerations of exegesis or terminology"
[Philological Quarterly, XIII, 104-6].)
[clxxv]
Beer, George L. British Colonial Policy, 1754-1765. New
York: 1933 [1907].
Bemis, S. F. The Diplomacy of the American Revolution. New
York; 1935. (Brilliant exposition of French, Spanish, Austrian,
and other diplomacy relative to the Revolution.
Should be supplemented by Frank Monaghan's John Jay.)
Bloch, Léon. La philosophie de Newton. Paris: 1908. (A
comprehensive, standard exposition.)
Bosker, Aisso. Literary Criticism in the Age of Johnson.
Groningen: 1930. (Reviewed by N. Foerster in Philological
Quarterly, XI, 216-7.)
Brasch, F. E. "The Royal Society of London and Its Influence
upon Scientific Thought in the American Colonies," Scientific
Monthly, XXXIII, 336-55, 448-69 (1931). (Useful survey.)
Brinton, Crane. A Decade of Revolutions, 1789-1799. New
York: 1934. (Useful on the pattern of ideas associated with
the French Revolution; has a full and up-to-date "Bibliographical
Essay," pp. 293-322, with critical commentary.)
Bullock, C. J. Essays on the Monetary History of the United
States. New York: 1900. (Useful bibliography, pp. 275-88.)
Burnett, E. C., ed. Letters of Members of the Continental
Congress. Washington, D. C.: 1921. (Seven volumes now
published include letters to 1784. Contain a mass of new
material of first importance, edited with notes, cross-references,
and introductions.)
Burtt, E. A. The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Physical
Science; A Historical and Critical Essay. New York:
1925.
Bury, J. B. The Idea of Progress. New York: 1932 (new
edition). (Standard English work on the topic. See also
Jules Delvaille, Essai sur l'histoire de l'idée de progrès [Paris,
1910], a more encyclopedic book.)
Channing, Edward. A History of the United States. New
York: 1912. (Volumes II-III.)
[clxxvi]
Clark, H. H. "Factors to be Investigated in American Literary
History from 1787 to 1800," English Journal, XXIII, 481-7
(June, 1934). (Suggests the genetic interrelations of
classical ideas; neoclassicism; the scientific spirit, rationalism,
and deism; primitivism and the idea of progress; physical
America and the frontier spirit; agrarianism and laissez faire;
Federalism versus Democracy, whether Jeffersonian or
French; sentimentalism and humanitarianism; Gothicism; and
conflicting currents of aesthetic theory.)
Clark, H. H., ed. Poems of Freneau. New York: 1929. (F.
L. Pattee says of the Introduction, "No one has ever traced
out better the ramifications of French Revolution deism in
America and the effects of its clash with Puritanism" [American
Literature, II, 316-7]. Also see Clark's "Thomas
Paine's Theories of Rhetoric," Transactions of the Wisconsin
Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters, XXVIII, 307-39
[1933], which discusses relationships between deism and
literary theory.)
Clark, J. M., Viner, J., and others. Adam Smith, 1776-1926.
Chicago: 1928. (Brilliant essays on various aspects of
Smith's thought and influence. See especially Jacob Viner's
"Adam Smith and Laissez-Faire," pp. 116-55, which shows
the relations in Smith's mind between economics and
religion, between laissez faire and "the harmonious order of
nature" posited by the scientific deists.)
Crane, R. S. "Anglican Apologetics and the Idea of Progress,
1699-1745," Modern Philology, XXXI, 273-306 (Feb.,
1934), 349-82 (May, 1934). (Demonstrates in masterly
fashion how the idea of progress grew out of orthodox
defenses of revealed religion, current in Franklin's formative
years. Modifies the conventional view that the Church was
hostile to the idea of progress and that it derived exclusively
from the scientific spirit.)
Davidson, P. G., Jr. "Whig Propagandists of the American
Revolution," American Historical Review, XXXIX, 442-53
(April, 1934). (Also see Revolutionary Propaganda in New
England, New York, and Pennsylvania, 1763-1776. Unpublished
dissertation, University of Chicago, 1929.)
"Deism," in The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious
Knowledge, III, 391-7 (by Ernst Troeltsch).
[clxxvii]
De la Fontainerie, F., tr. and ed. French Liberalism and
Education in the Eighteenth Century: The Writings of La
Chalotais, Turgot, Diderot, and Condorcet on National Education.
New York: 1932. (Convenient source book.)
Dewey, D. R. Financial History of the United States. New
York: 1924 (9th ed.). (Bristles with bibliographical aids for
study of eighteenth century.)
Draper, J. W. Eighteenth Century English Aesthetics: A
Bibliography. Heidelberg: 1931. (Source materials, pp.
61-128, for aesthetics of literature and drama: includes in
appendix, pp. 129-40, ablest secondary works to 1931.
An invaluable guide. See additions by R. S. Crane, Modern
Philology, XXIX, 251 ff. [1931], W. D. Templeman, ibid.,
XXX, 309-16, R. D. Havens, Modern Language Notes,
XLVII, 118-20 [1932].)
Drennon, Herbert. "Newtonianism: Its Method, Theology,
and Metaphysics," Englische Studien, LXVIII, 397-409
(1933-1934). (Other parts of Mr. Drennon's brilliant
doctoral dissertation, James Thomson and Newtonianism
[University of Chicago, 1928], have been published in
Publications of the Modern Language Association, XLIX, 71-80,
March, 1934; in Studies in Philology, XXXI, 453-71, July,
1934; and in Philological Quarterly, XIV, 70-82, Jan., 1935.)
Ducros, Louis. French Society in the Eighteenth Century. Tr.
from the French by W. de Geijer; with a Foreword by J. A.
Higgs-Walker. London: 1927.
Duncan, C. S. The New Science and English Literature in the
Classical Period. Menasha, Wis.: 1913. (Scholarly.)
Dunning, W. A. A History of Political Theories from Luther
to Montesquieu. New York: 1905, and A History of Political
Theories from Rousseau to Spencer. New York: 1920.
(Standard works.)
Elton, Oliver. The Augustan Age. New York: 1899, and A Survey
of English Literature, 1730-1780. 2 vols. London: 1928.
(Acute on literary trends, though hardly adequate on ideas.)
Evans, Charles. American Bibliography. Chicago: 1903-1934.
(Volumes I-XII, 1639-1799.)
[clxxviii]
Faÿ, Bernard. Revolution and Freemasonry, 1680-1800. Boston:
1935. (Stimulating conjectures vitiated by extravagant
and undocumented conclusions.)
Faÿ, Bernard. The Revolutionary Spirit in France and America.
Tr. by R. Guthrie. New York: 1927. (Especially valuable
for notes on the vogue of Franklin in France. Highly
important comprehensive survey of French influence in
America, and the impetus our revolution gave to French
liberalism.)
Fisher, S. G. The Quaker Colonies. A Chronicle of the Proprietors
of the Delaware. New Haven: 1921. (Useful bibliography,
pp. 231-4.)
Fiske, John. The Beginnings of New England, or the Puritan
Theocracy in Its Relations to Civil and Religious Liberty.
Boston: 1896 [1889]. (See also Perry Miller's Orthodoxy in
Massachusetts, 1630-1650. A Genetic Study. Cambridge,
Mass.: 1933.)
Gettell, R. G. History of American Political Thought. New
York: 1928. (The standard comprehensive treatment of its
subject. Has good bibliographies.)
Gide, Charles, and Rist, Charles. A History of Economic
Doctrines from the Time of the Physiocrats to the Present
Day. Authorized translation from the second revised and
augmented edition of 1913 under the direction of the late
Professor Wm. Smart, by R. Richards. Boston: 1915.
(Excellent survey of physiocracy.)
Gierke, Otto. Natural Law and the Theory of Society, 1500 to
1800. With a Lecture on The Ideas of Natural Law and
Humanity, by Ernst Troeltsch. Tr. with an introduction
by E. Barker. 2 vols. Cambridge, England: 1934.
(A standard work, with excellent notes, especially valuable
on European backgrounds.)
Gohdes, Clarence. "Ethan Allen and his Magnum Opus,"
Open Court, XLIII, 128-51 (March, 1929). (Suggests the
eighteenth-century battle between revelation and reason, the
latter as buttressed by Lockian sensationalism and Newtonian
science.)
[clxxix]
Greene, E. B. The Provincial Governor in the English Colonies
of North America. Cambridge, Mass.: 1898. (Inveterate
divergence between provincial governor and provincial
assemblies foreshadowed the American Revolution.)
Halévy, E. The Growth of Philosophic Radicalism. Tr. by
M. Morris, with a preface by A. D. Lindsay. London:
1928. (A comprehensive, authoritative work.)
Hansen, A. O. Liberalism and American Education in the
Eighteenth Century. With an introduction by E. H. Reisner.
New York: 1926. (A good bibliography of primary sources
and a poor bibliography of secondary sources, pp. 265-96.
Although this slights Franklin and deals especially with plans
following Franklin's death, it surveys educational ideals
with reference to the ideas of the Enlightenment, ideas latent
in Franklin's writings.)
Haroutunian, Joseph. Piety versus Moralism, the Passing of
the New England Theology. New York: 1932. (An important
scholarly work arguing reluctantly that Puritanism
declined because it was theocentric and inadequate to the
social needs of the time. Has an excellent bibliography.)
Hefelbower, S. G. The Relation of John Locke to English
Deism. Chicago: 1918. (The relation between Locke and
the English deists is "not causal, nor do they mark different
stages of the same movement"; they are "related as coordinate
parts of the larger progressive movement of the age."
Stresses Locke's tolerance, rationalism, and natural religion.)
Higgs, Henry. The Physiocrats. Six Lectures on the French
Économistes of the Eighteenth Century. London: 1897.
(Gide and Rist term this a "succinct account" of the physiocratic
system.)
Hildeburn, C. R. Issues of the Pennsylvania Press. A Century
of Printing, 1685-1784. 2 vols. Philadelphia: 1885-1886.
(A highly useful guide to what was being read in Pennsylvania
year by year.)
Horton, W. M. Theism and the Scientific Spirit. New York:
1933. (Popular accounts of "Copernican world" and "God
in the Newtonian world" in chapters I-II.)
[clxxx]
Humphrey, Edward. Nationalism and Religion in America,
1774-1789. Boston: 1924.
Jameson, J. F. The American Revolution Considered as a Social
Movement. Princeton, N. J.: 1926. (Brief and general, but
suggestive.)
Jones, H. M. America and French Culture, 1750-1848. Chapel
Hill, N. C.: 1927. (A monumental, elaborately documented
comprehensive work, containing an excellent bibliography.)
Jones, H. M. "American Prose Style: 1700-1770," Huntington
Library Bulletin, No. 6, 115-51 (Nov., 1934). (Shows that
Puritan preachings inculcated the ideal of a simple, lucid, and
dignified style.)
Kaye, F. B., ed. The Fable of the Bees: or, Private Vices,
Publick Benefits. With a Commentary Critical, Historical, and
Explanatory. 2 vols. Oxford: 1924. (The introduction is
the most lucid and penetrating commentary on Mandeville
in relation to the pattern of ideas of his age. See L. I. Bredvold's
review in Journal of English and Germanic Philology,
XXIV, 586-9, Oct., 1925.)
Koch, G. A. Republican Religion: The American Revolution
and the Cult of Reason. New York: 1933. ("A vast body of
facts about a host of obscure figures"—reviewed by H. H.
Clark in Journal of Philosophy, XXXI, 135-8. Contains an
elaborate bibliography.)
Kraus, M. Intercolonial Aspects of American Culture on the Eve
of the Revolution. New York: 1928. (Scholarly.)
Lecky, W. E. H. A History of England in the Eighteenth Century.
7 vols. New York: 1892-1893 (new ed.). (A standard
work, containing a finely documented treatment of the
political aspects of the American Revolution.)
Leonard, S. A. The Doctrine of Correctness in English Usage,
1700-1800. Madison, Wis.: 1929. (Authoritative.)
Lévy-Bruhl, Lucien. History of Modern Philosophy in France.
Chicago: 1899.
[clxxxi]
Lincoln, C. H. The Revolutionary Movement in Pennsylvania,
1760-1776. Philadelphia: 1901. (A highly important study
showing that local sectional strife which would have eventually
led to conflict synchronized with the strife between the
colony and England.)
Lovejoy, A. O. "The Parallel of Deism and Classicism,"
Modern Philology, XXIX, 281-99 (Feb., 1932). ("A systematic
statement of the rationalistic preconceptions which,
when applied in matters of religion terminated in Deism,
when applied in aesthetics produced Classicism. An illuminating
synthesis, done throughout with characteristic finesse
and discrimination" [Philological Quarterly, XII, 106,
April, 1933].)
McIlwain, C. H. The American Revolution: A Constitutional
Interpretation. New York: 1923. (Offers defense of revolution
on English constitutional grounds.)
Martin, Kingsley. French Liberal Thought in the Eighteenth
Century: A Study of Political Ideas from Bayle to Condorcet.
Boston: 1929. (Stimulating survey of ideology motivating
the French revolution, "a dramatic moment when feudalism,
clericalism and divine monarchy collapsed.")
Merriam, C. E. A History of American Political Theories. New
York: 1924 [1903]. (Authoritative, brief treatment.)
Monaghan, Frank. John Jay, Defender of Liberty. New York:
1935. (A brilliant biography and a fully documented study
of the activities and diplomacy of the Continental Congress.
Supplements S. F. Bemis; see above.)
Moore, C. A. "Shaftesbury and the Ethical Poets in England,
1700-1760," Publications of the Modern Language Association,
XXXI (N. S. XXIV), 264-325 (June, 1916). (Penetrating
and brilliant survey of the growth of altruism, to be
supplemented by R. S. Crane's studies of earlier sources.)
Morais, H. M. Deism in Eighteenth Century America. New
York: 1934. (If little space is given to the implications of
Deism in terms of political, economic, and literary theory,
and if the leaders of deistic thought, such as Franklin,
Jefferson, and Paine are too lightly dealt with, this work is
"substantial, precise, well-documented, modest, cautious,
and objective." Has a good bibliography. Reviewed by
H. H. Clark, American Literature, VI, 467-9, Jan., 1935.
See also Morais's "Deism in Revolutionary America, 1763-89,"
International Journal of Ethics, XLII, 434-53, July, 1932.)
[clxxxii]
Morley, John. Diderot and the Encyclopædists. 2 vols. London:
1923. (A suggestive survey, parts of which have been
superseded by more recent studies.)
Mornet, Daniel. French Thought in the Eighteenth Century. Tr.
by L. M. Levin. New York: 1929. (Lucid and penetrating
survey; suggestive notes on the influence of speculation
motivated by science.)
Mornet, Daniel. Les origines intellectuelles de la Révolution
française (1715-1787). Paris: 1933. (A brilliant work, concluding
that without the extraordinary diffusion of radical
ideas in all classes in France, the States-General in 1789 would
not have adopted revolutionary measures. See C. Brinton's
review, American Historical Review, XXXIX, 726-7, 1934.)
Morse, W. N. "Lectures on Electricity in Colonial Times,"
New England Quarterly, VII, 364-74 (June, 1934). (Presents
fourteen items on the vogue of electrical experiments,
1747-1765.)
Mott, F. L. A History of American Magazines, 1741-1850.
New York: 1930.
Mullett, C. F. Fundamental Law and the American Revolution,
1760-1776. New York: 1933. (A highly important scholarly
study, with excellent bibliography of relevant investigations
of recent date. Supplements B. F. Wright.)
Ornstein, Martha. The Rôle of Scientific Societies in the Seventeenth
Century. New York: 1913. Reprinted, University of
Chicago Press: 1928. (Shows their radical influence. See
suggestive reviews in American Historical Review, XXXIV,
386-7, 1929; and Times Literary Supplement [London], 679,
Sept. 27, 1928.)
Osgood, H. L. The American Colonies in the Eighteenth Century.
4 vols. New York: 1924-1925. (Standard work on political
aspects.)
Perkins, J. B. France in the American Revolution. Boston:
1911. (Includes able survey of Franklin's efforts in behalf of
colonies.)
[clxxxiii]
Richardson, L. N. A History of Early American Magazines,
1741-1789. New York: 1931. (An encyclopedic survey
indispensable to all students of the period. Enormously
documented.)
Robertson, J. M. A Short History of Free Thought, Ancient
and Modern. 2 vols. London: 1915. (Third edition,
revised and expanded. An important survey, if somewhat
militantly partisan.)
Roustan, Marius. The Pioneers of the French Revolution. Tr.
by F. Whyte, with an Introduction by H. J. Laski. Boston:
1926. (Thesis: "The spirit of the philosophes was the spirit
of the Revolution." Highly readable, but inferior to parallel
studies by Martin and Mornet in incisive analysis of patterns
of ideas. Stresses picturesque social aspects.)
Schapiro, J. S. Condorcet and the Rise of Liberalism in France.
New York: 1934. (Condorcet is the "almost perfect expression
of the pioneer liberalism of the period"; he is viewed
as the "last of the encyclopedists and the most universal of
all." A lucid scholarly study, although hardly superseding
Alengry's Condorcet.)
Schlesinger, A. M. "The American Revolution," in New
Viewpoints in American History. New York: 1922, pp.
160-83. (A brief but excellent interpretation, stressing
economic factors, and presenting a useful "Bibliographical
Note," pp. 181-3, including references to studies of political
and religious factors. See also studies of the latter by R. G.
Adams, Alice Baldwin, Carl Becker, B. F. Wright, C. F.
Mullett, C. H. Van Tyne, and Edward Humphrey.)
Schneider, H. W. The Puritan Mind. New York: 1930. (An
acute scholarly study, with excellent bibliography. The
stress on ideas supplements and balances Parrington's tendency
to dismiss ideas as by-products of economic factors.)
Smith, T. V. The American Philosophy of Equality. Chicago:
1927. (Chapter I includes discussion of "natural rights,"
with recognition of the influence of European theorists.)
[clxxxiv]
Smyth, A. H. The Philadelphia Magazines and Their Contributors,
1741-1850. Philadelphia: 1892. (Brief descriptive
account, mostly superseded by the relevant sections in F. L.
Mott's and L. N. Richardson's histories.)
Stephen, Leslie. A History of English Thought in the Eighteenth
Century. 2 vols. London: 1902 (3rd ed.). (As J. L. Laski
observes, it is "almost insolent to praise such work." In certain
aspects, however, it has been superseded by studies by
such men as R. S. Crane, A. O. Lovejoy, H. M. Jones, etc.)
Stimson, Dorothy. The Gradual Acceptance of the Copernican
Theory of the Universe. Hanover, N. H.: 1917.
Taylor, O. H. "Economics and the Idea of Natural Law,"
Quarterly Journal of Economics, XLIV, 1-39 (Nov., 1929).
("The evolution of the idea of 'law' in economics" paralleling
"its evolution in the natural sciences" led to belief in an economic
mechanism which "was regarded as a wise device of the
Creator for causing individuals, while pursuing only their
own interests, to promote the prosperity of society, and for
causing the right adjustment to one another of supplies,
demands, prices, and incomes, to take place automatically,
in consequence of the free action of all individuals." The
author suggests that there is evident an incongruous dichotomy
between the mechanistic idea of the physiocrats and their
assumption that enlightened men "would be able to use
government as a scientific tool for carrying out purely
rationalistic measures in the common interest." See also
outline of his doctoral thesis on this subject. Harvard University
Summaries of Theses [1928], 102-6. An authoritative
study of an important subject.)
Torrey, N. L. Voltaire and the English Deists. New Haven:
1930. (Shows Voltaire's great indebtedness to Newtonianism,
which he popularized in France, and to earlier deists than
Bolingbroke. Authoritative.)
Turberville, A. S., ed. Johnson's England. An Account of the
Life and Manners of His Age. 2 vols. Oxford University
Press: 1933. (Although this collaborative work neglects
political, religious, economic, and aesthetic ideas, it embodies
readable and authoritative surveys of external aspects of
social history, viewed from many angles. Contains useful
bibliographies. See review by H. H. Clark, American
Review, II, No. 4 [Feb., 1934].)
[clxxxv]
Tyler, M. C. A History of American Literature, 1607-1765 (2
vols. New York: 1878), and The Literary History of the
American Revolution (2 vols. New York: 1897). (Somewhat
grandiloquent but very full survey, including Loyalists.
Excellent on literary aspects but partly superseded on ideas.
Contains excellent bibliography of primary sources.)
Van Tyne, C. H. The Causes of the War of Independence.
Boston: 1922. (Brilliant both in interpretation and style,
and well balanced in considering economic, political, social,
religious, and philosophic factors.)
Veitch, G. S. The Genesis of Parliamentary Reform. London:
1913. (Useful for English backgrounds.)
Weld, C. R. A History of the Royal Society with Memoirs of
the Presidents. 2 vols. London: 1848.
Wendell, Barrett. Cotton Mather, the Puritan Priest. Cambridge,
Mass.: 1926 [1891]. (A sympathetic study of one of
Franklin's masters, based on a deep knowledge of the
Puritan spirit.)
Weulersse, Georges. Le mouvement physiocratique en France
(de 1756 à 1770). 2 vols. Paris: 1910. (The standard
treatment.)
White, A. D. A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology
in Christendom. 2 vols. New York: 1897. (Prominent
attention given to colonial eighteenth century.)
Whitney, Lois. Primitivism and the Idea of Progress in English
Popular Literature of the Eighteenth Century. Baltimore:
1934. (An acute study of the history of an important idea,
especially as embodied in novels. Occasionally misleading
because Miss Whitney does not always pay necessary attention
to the major individuals' change of attitude, to their
genetic development. Contains no bibliography. See Bury,
above.)
Williams, David. "The Influence of Rousseau on Political
Opinion, 1760-1795," English Historical Review, XLVIII,
414-30 (1933).
[clxxxvi]
Winsor, Justin, ed. Narrative and Critical History of America.
8 vols. Boston: [1884-] 1889. (Especially valuable for
bibliographical notes.)
Wright, B. F. American Interpretations of Natural Law. A
Study in the History of Political Thought. Cambridge, Mass.:
1931. (An able outline of main trends, although it neglects
evidence both in eighteenth-century sermons and in legal
papers of colonial attorneys. Shows strong influence of
Grotius, Puffendorf, and Locke on Revolutionary theories.
Should be supplemented by C. F. Mullett's parallel book.
Reviewed by R. B. Morris, American Historical Review,
XXXVII, 561-2, April, 1932.)
Wright, T. G. Literary Culture in Early New England, 1620-1730.
New Haven: 1920. (Valuable for its check lists of
colonial libraries, suggesting books current in Franklin's
formative years. The best treatment of its subject although
it neglects the literary and aesthetic theories of the period.
To be supplemented by books by C. F. Richardson, W. F.
Mitchell, and E. C. Cook.)
Further background studies may be found in The Cambridge
History of English Literature, Cambridge and New York,
1912-1914, VIII-XI, and The Cambridge History of American
Literature, New York, 1917, Vol. I. See also the more up-to-date
bibliographies in P. Smith's A History of Modern Culture,
New York, 1934, II, 647-76; R. S. Crane's A Collection of
English Poems, 1660-1800, New York, 1932, pp. 1115-42; and
especially O. Shepard and P. S. Wood, English Prose and
Poetry, 1660-1800, Boston, 1934, pp. xxxiii-xxxviii and pp. 937-1067.
For bibliographical guides, see note following, p. clxxxviii.
VI. BIBLIOGRAPHIES AND CHECK LISTS
Boggess, A. C., and Witmer, E. R. Calendar of the Papers of
Benjamin Franklin in the Library of the University of Pennsylvania.
(Being the Appendix to the Calendar of the
Papers of Benjamin Franklin in the Library of the American
Philosophical Society, edited by I. M. Hays.) Philadelphia:
1908. (This valuable work lists letters to Franklin, letters
from Franklin, and miscellaneous letters, with brief notes on
the topics discussed in each letter and place of publication in
cases where the letters have been published.)
[clxxxvii]
Books Printed by Benjamin Franklin. Born Jan. 17, 1706. New
York: 1906. (Lists best known imprints; useful although
eclipsed by Campbell.)
*The Cambridge History of American Literature. New York:
1917. I, 442-52. (Lists of "Collected Works," "Separate
Works," and "Contributions to Periodicals" constitute a
convenient abridgment of Ford, but the list, "Biographical
and Critical," limited to two pages, is at best inadequately
suggestive.)
Campbell, W. J. The Collection of Franklin Imprints in the
Museum of the Curtis Publishing Company. With a Short-Title
Check List of All the Books, Pamphlets, Broadsides, &c.,
known to have been printed by Benjamin Franklin. Philadelphia:
1918.
Campbell, W. J. A Short-Title Check List of All the Books,
Pamphlets, Broadsides, &c., known to have been printed by
Benjamin Franklin. Philadelphia: 1918.
*Faÿ, B. Benjamin Franklin bibliographie et étude sur les sources
historiques relatives à sa vie (Vol. III of Benjamin Franklin,
bourgeois d'Amérique et citoyen du monde.) Paris: 1931.
(Faÿ, in Franklin, the Apostle of Modern Times, pp. 517-33,
has furnished "only a summary bibliography," which, in spite
of its occasional inaccuracies and infelicities in form, contains
many useful items, American, English, and French; especially
valuable for notes on several manuscript collections. In
this French edition the bibliography is more detailed.)
*Ford, P. L. Franklin Bibliography. A List of Books Written
by, or Relating to Benjamin Franklin. Brooklyn, N. Y.:
1889. (The standard, time-honored work, unfortunately not
superseded.)
Ford, W. C. List of the Benjamin Franklin Papers in the Library
of Congress. Washington, D. C.: 1905.
[clxxxviii]
Hays, I. M. Calendar of the Papers of Benjamin Franklin in the
Library of the American Philosophical Society. Vols. II-VI in
The Record of the Celebration of the Two Hundredth Anniversary
of the Birth of Benjamin Franklin, under the Auspices of
the American Philosophical Society Held at Philadelphia for
Promoting Useful Knowledge, April 17 to 20, 1906. Philadelphia:
1908. (A. H. Smyth purports to have printed in
his ten-volume edition all of Franklin's letters in this collection.
Valuable especially for letters addressed to Franklin.)
"List of Works in the New York Public Library by or Relating
to Benjamin Franklin," Bulletin of New York Public Library,
X, No. 1. New York: 1906, pp. 29-83.
Rosengarten, J. G. "Some New Franklin Papers," University
of Pennsylvania Alumni Register, 1-7 (July, 1903). (A report
to the Board of Trustees saying "there are over five hundred
pieces of MS among the collection of Franklin papers
recently added to the Library of the University." These
range from 1731 to Franklin's latest correspondence. Only
a few of these pieces are described.)
Stevens, Henry. Benjamin Franklin's Life and Writings. A
Bibliographical Essay on the Stevens Collection of Books and
Manuscripts Relating to Doctor Franklin. London: 1881.
(Pp. 21-40 contain a list of "Franklin's Printed Works.")
Swift, Lindsay. "Catalogue of Works Relating to Benjamin
Franklin in the Boston Public Library," Bulletin of the
Boston Public Library, V, 217-31, 276-84, 420-33. Boston:
1883. (Including Dr. S. A. Green's collection, this was the
"immediate predecessor" to Ford.)
For current articles the student should consult especially the
bibliographies in Philological Quarterly, American Literature,
Publications of the Modern Language Association, bibliographical
bulletins of the Modern Humanities Research Association, and
Grace G. Griffin's annual bibliography, Writings on American
History.
[1]
*
Selections from
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
*
[2]
[3]
NOTE: Superior figures through the text refer to notes in pp. 529 ff.
From the AUTOBIOGRAPHY[1]
Twyford, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's, 1771.
Dear Son, I have ever had a Pleasure in obtaining any little
Anecdotes of my Ancestors. You may remember the Enquiries
I made among the Remains of my Relations when you were
with me in England; and the journey I undertook for that purpose.
Now imagining it may be equally agreable to you to know
the Circumstances of my Life, many of which you are yet unacquainted
with; and expecting a Weeks uninterrupted Leisure
in my present Country Retirement, I sit down to write them for
you. To which I have besides some other Inducements. Having
emerg'd from the Poverty and Obscurity in which I was
born and bred, to a State of Affluence and some Degree of Reputation
in the World, and having gone so far thro' Life with a
considerable Share of Felicity, the conducing Means I made use
of, which, with the Blessing of God, so well succeeded, my Posterity
may like to know, as they may find some of them suitable
to their own Situations, and therefore fit to be imitated. That
Felicity, when I reflected on it, has induc'd me sometimes to
say, that were it offer'd to my Choice, I should have no Objection
to a Repetition of the same Life from its Beginning, only
asking the Advantages Authors have in a second Edition to correct
some Faults of the first. So would I if I might, besides corr[ecting]
the Faults, change some sinister Accidents and Events
of it for others more favourable, but tho' this were deny'd, I
should still accept the Offer. However, since such a Repetition
is not to be expected, the next Thing most like living one's Life
over again, seems to be a Recollection of that Life; and to make
that Recollection as durable as possible, the putting it down in
Writing. Hereby, too, I shall indulge the Inclination so natural
in old Men, to be talking of themselves and their own past
Actions, and I shall indulge it, without being troublesome to
others who thro' respect to Age might think themselves oblig'd[4]
to give me a Hearing, since this may be read or not as any one
pleases. And lastly (I may as well confess it, since my Denial of
it will be believ'd by no Body) perhaps I shall a good deal gratify
my own Vanity. Indeed I scarce ever heard or saw the introductory
Words, Without vanity I may say, &c. but some vain
thing immediately follow'd. 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 that
are within his Sphere of Action: And therefore in many Cases it
would not be quite absurd if a Man were to thank God for his
Vanity among the other Comforts of Life.—
And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all Humility
to acknowledge, that I owe the mention'd Happiness of my past
Life to his kind Providence, which led me to the Means I us'd
and gave them Success. My Belief of this, induces me to hope,
tho' I must not presume, that the same Goodness will still be exercis'd
towards me in continuing that Happiness, or in 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 to us even our Afflictions.
The Notes one of my Uncles (who had the same kind of
Curiosity in collecting Family Anecdotes) once put into my
Hands, furnish'd me with several Particulars relating to our Ancestors.
From these Notes I learnt that the Family had liv'd in
the same Village, Ecton in Northamptonshire, for 300 Years,
and how much longer he knew not (perhaps from the Time
when the Name Franklin that before was the name of an Order
of People, was assum'd by them for a Surname, when others
took surnames all over the kingdom)[,] on a Freehold of about
30 Acres, aided by the Smith's Business, which had continued
in the Family till his Time, the eldest son being always bred to
that Business[.] A Custom which he and my Father both followed
as to their eldest Sons.—When I search'd the Register at
Ecton, I found an Account of their Births, Marriages and
Burials, from the Year 1555 only, there being no Register kept
in that Parish at any time preceding.—By that Register I perceiv'd[5]
that I was the youngest Son of the youngest Son for 5
Generations back. My Grandfather Thomas, who was born in
1598, lived at Ecton till he grew too old to follow Business
longer, when he went to live with his Son John, a Dyer at Banbury
in Oxfordshire, with whom my Father serv'd an Apprenticeship.
There my Grandfather died and lies buried. We saw
his Gravestone in 1758. His eldest Son Thomas liv'd in the
House at Ecton, and left it with the Land to his only Child, a
Daughter, who, with her Husband, one Fisher of Wellingborough
sold it to Mr. Isted, now Lord of the Manor there. My
Grandfather had 4 Sons that grew up, viz Thomas, John, Benjamin
and Josiah. I will give you what Account I can of them
at this distance from my Papers, and if these are not lost in my
Absence, you will among them find many more Particulars.
Thomas was bred a Smith under his Father, but being ingenious,
and encourag'd in Learning (as all his Brothers likewise were)
by an Esquire Palmer then the principal Gentleman in that Parish,
he qualify'd himself for the Business of Scrivener, became a
considerable Man in the County Affairs, was a chief Mover of all
publick Spirited Undertakings for the County or Town of
Northampton and his own village, of which many instances
were told us; and he was at Ecton much taken Notice of and
patroniz'd by the then Lord Halifax. He died in 1702, Jan. 6,
old Stile, just 4 Years to a Day before I was born. The Account
we receiv'd of his Life and Character from some old People at
Ecton, I remember struck you as something extraordinary, from
its Similarity to what you knew of mine. Had he died on the
same Day, you said one might have suppos'd a Transmigration.—John
was bred a Dyer, I believe of Woollens. Benjamin,
was bred a Silk Dyer, serving an Apprenticeship at London.
He was an ingenious Man, I remember him well, for when I was
a Boy he came over to my Father in Boston, and lived in the
House with us some Years. He lived to a great Age. His
Grandson Samuel Franklin now lives in Boston. He left behind
him two Quarto Volumes, MS of his own Poetry, consisting of
little occasional Pieces address'd to his Friends and Relations,
of which the following sent to me, is a Specimen. [Although[6]
Franklin wrote in the margin "Here insert it," the poetry is not
given.] He had form'd a Shorthand of his own, which he taught
me, but, never practising it I have now forgot it. I was nam'd
after this Uncle, there being a particular Affection between him
and my Father. He was very pious, a great Attender of Sermons
of the best Preachers, which he took down in his Shorthand and
had with him many Volumes of them. He was also much of a
Politician, too much perhaps for his Station. There fell lately
into my Hands in London a Collection he had made of all the
principal Pamphlets relating to Publick Affairs from 1641 to
1717. Many of the Volumes are wanting, as appears by the
Numbering, but there still remains 8 Vols. Folio, and 24 in 4.to
and 8.vo.—A Dealer in old Books met with them, and knowing
me by my sometimes buying of him, he brought them to me.
It seems my Uncle must have left them here when he went to
America, which was above 50 years since. There are many of
his Notes in the Margins.—
This obscure Family of ours was early in the Reformation,
and continu'd Protestants thro' the Reign of Queen Mary, when
they were sometimes in Danger of Trouble on Account of their
Zeal against Popery. They had got an English Bible, and to conceal
and secure it, it was fastened open with Tapes under and
within the Frame of a Joint Stool. When my Great Great Grandfather
read it [it] to his Family, he turn'd up the joint Stool upon
his Knees, turning over the Leaves then 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 turn'd down again upon its feet,
when the Bible remain'd conceal'd under it as before. This
Anecdote I had from my Uncle Benjamin.—The Family continu'd
all of the Church of England till about the End of Charles
the 2ds Reign, when some of the Ministers that had been outed
for Nonconformity, holding Conventicles in Northamptonshire,
Benjamin and Josiah adher'd to them, and so continu'd all
their Lives. The rest of the Family remain'd with the Episcopal
Church.
Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his Wife with[7]
three Children into New England, about 1682. The Conventicles
having been forbidden by Law, and frequently disturbed,
induced some considerable Men of his Acquaintance to remove
to that Country, and he was prevail'd with to accompany them
thither, where they expected to enjoy their Mode of Religion
with Freedom.—By the same Wife he had 4 Children more
born there, and by a second wife ten more, in all 17, of which I
remember 13 sitting at one time at his Table, who all grew up to
be Men and Women, and married. I was the youngest Son, and
the youngest Child but two, and was born in Boston, N. England.
My mother, the 2d wife was Abiah Folger, a daughter of
Peter Folger, one of the first Settlers of New England, of whom
honourable mention is made by Cotton Mather, in his Church
History of that Country, (entitled Magnalia Christi Americana)
as a godly learned Englishman, if I remember the Words rightly.
I have heard that he wrote sundry small occasional Pieces, but
only one of them was printed which I saw now many years
since. It was written in 1675, in the home-spun Verse of that
Time and People, and address'd to those then concern'd in the
Government there. It was in favour of Liberty of Conscience,
and in behalf of the Baptists, Quakers, and other Sectaries, that
had been under Persecution; ascribing the Indian Wars and
other Distresses, that had befallen the Country to that Persecution,
as so many Judgments of God, to punish so heinous an
Offense; and exhorting a Repeal of those uncharitable Laws.
The whole appear'd to me as written with a good deal of Decent
Plainness and manly Freedom. The six last concluding Lines I
remember, tho' I have forgotten the two first of the Stanza, but
the Purport of them was that his Censures proceeded from
Good will, and therefore he would be known as the Author,
"Because to be a Libeller, (says he)
I hate it with my Heart.
From[A] Sherburne Town where now I dwell,
My Name I do put here,
Without Offense, your real Friend,
It is Peter Folgier."
[8]
My elder Brothers were all put Apprentices to different
Trades. I was put to the Grammar School at Eight Years of
Age, my Father intending 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, as I do not remember
when I could not read) and the Opinion of all his Friends that I
should certainly make a good Scholar, encourag'd him in this
Purpose of his. My Uncle Benjamin too approv'd of it, and
propos'd to give me all his Shorthand Volumes of Sermons I
suppose as a Stock to set up with, if I would learn his Character.
I continu'd however at the Grammar School not quite one Year,
tho' in that time I had risen gradually from the Middle of the
Class of that Year to be the Head of it, and farther was remov'd
into the next Class above it, in order to go with that into the
third at the End of the Year. But my Father in the mean time,
from a View of the Expence of a College Education which, having
so large a Family, he could not well afford, and the mean
Living many so educated were afterwards able to obtain, Reasons
that he gave to his Friends in my Hearing, altered his first
Intention, took me from the Grammar School, and sent me to a
School for Writing and Arithmetic kept by a then famous Man,
Mr. Geo. Brownell, very successful in his Profession generally,
and that by mild encouraging Methods. Under him I acquired
fair Writing pretty soon, but I fail'd in the Arithmetic, and
made no Progress in it.—At Ten Years old, I was taken home to
assist my Father in his Business, which was that of a Tallow
Chandler and Sope Boiler. A Business he was not bred to, but
had assumed on his Arrival in New England and on finding his
Dying Trade would not maintain his Family, being in little Request.
Accordingly I was employed in cutting Wick for the
Candles, filling the Dipping Mold, and the Molds for cast Candles,
attending the Shop, going of Errands, etc.—I dislik'd the
Trade and had a strong Inclination for the Sea; but my Father
declar'd against it; however, living near the Water, I was much
in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to manage Boats,
and when in a Boat or Canoe with other Boys I was commonly
allow'd to govern, especially in any case of Difficulty; and upon[9]
other Occasions I was generally a Leader among the Boys, and
sometimes led them into Scrapes, of wch I will mention one
Instance, as it shows an early projecting public Spirit, tho' not
then justly conducted. There was a salt Marsh that bounded
part of the Mill Pond, on the Edge of which at Highwater, we
us'd to stand to fish for Min[n]ows. By much Trampling, we
had made it a mere Quagmire. My Proposal was to build a
Wharff there fit for us to stand upon, and I show'd 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, I assembled a Number of my Playfellows; and working
with them diligently like so many Emmets, sometimes two or
three to a Stone, we brought them all away and built our little
Wharff.—The next Morning the Workmen were surpriz'd at
Missing the Stones; which were found in our Wharff; Enquiry
was made after the Removers; we were discovered and complain'd
of; several of us were corrected by our Fathers; and tho'
I pleaded the Usefulness of the Work, mine convinc'd me that
nothing was useful which was not honest.
I think you may like to know something of his Person and
Character. He had an excellent Constitution of Body, was of
middle Stature, but well set and very strong. He was ingenious,
could draw prettily, was skill'd a little in Music and had a clear
pleasing Voice, so that when he play'd Psalm Tunes on his Violin
and sung withal as he sometimes did in an Evening after the
Business of the Day was over, it was extreamly agreable to hear.
He had a mechanical Genius too, and on occasion was very
handy in the Use of other Tradesmen's Tools. But his great
Excellence lay in a sound Understanding, and solid Judgment in
prudential Matters, both in private and publick Affairs. In the
latter indeed he was never employed, the numerous Family he
had to educate and the straitness of his Circumstances, keeping
him close to his Trade, but I remember well his being frequently
visited by leading People, who consulted him for his Opinion
in Affairs of the Town or of the Church he belong'd to and
show'd a good deal of Respect for his Judgment and advice. He[10]
was also much consulted by private Persons about their affairs
when any Difficulty occurr'd, and frequently chosen an Arbitrator
between contending Parties.—At his Table he lik'd 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 turn'd 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 drest, 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 bro't up in such a perfect
Inattention to those Matters as to be quite Indifferent what kind
of Food was set before me, and so unobservant of it, that to this
Day, if I am ask'd I can scarce tell a few Hours after Dinner,
what I din'd upon. This has been a 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 10 Children. I never knew either my Father or
Mother to have any Sickness but that of which they dy'd he at
89, and she at 85 years of age. They lie buried together at Boston,
where I some years since placed a Marble Stone over their
Grave with this Inscription:
Josiah Franklin
And Abiah his Wife
Lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in Wedlock
Fifty-five Years.
Without an Estate or any gainful Employment,
By constant labour and Industry,
With God's blessing,
They maintained a large Family
Comfortably;
And brought up thirteen Children,
And seven Grandchildren
Reputably.
[11]
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—Ætat 89.
A. F. born 1667—Died 1752——85.
By my rambling Digressions I perceive myself to be grown
old. I us'd to write more methodically.—But one does not
dress for private Company as for a publick Ball. 'Tis perhaps
only Negligence.—
To return. I continu'd thus employ'd in my Father's Business
for two Years, that is till I was 12 Years old; and my
Brother John, who was bred to that Business having left my
Father, married and set up for himself at Rhodeisland, there was
all Appearance that I was destin'd to supply his Place and be a
Tallow Chandler. But my Dislike to the Trade continuing, my
Father was under Apprehensions that if he did not find one for
me more agreable, I should break away and get to Sea, as his
Son Josiah had done to his great Vexation. He therefore sometimes
took me to walk with him, and see Joiners, Bricklayers,
Turners, Braziers, etc. at their Work, that he might observe my
Inclination, and endeavour to fix it on some Trade or other on
Land. It has ever since been a Pleasure to me to see good
Workmen handle their Tools; and it has been useful to me, having
learnt so much by it, as to be able to do little Jobs myself in
my House, when a Workman could not readily be got; and to
construct little Machines for my Experiments while the Intention
of making the Experiment was fresh and warm in my Mind. My
Father at last fix'd upon the Cutler's Trade, and my Uncle
Benjamin's Son Samuel who was bred to that Business in London[,]
being about that time establish'd in Boston, I was sent to
be with him some time on liking. But his Expectations of a Fee
with me displeasing my Father, I was taken home again.[12]—
From a Child I was fond of Reading, and all the little Money
that came into my Hands was ever laid out in Books. Pleas'd
with the Pilgrim's Progress, my first Collection was of John
Bunyan's Works, in separate little Volumes. I afterwards sold
them to enable me to buy R. Burton's Historical Collections;
they were small Chapmen's Books and cheap, 40 or 50 in all.—My
Father's little Library consisted chiefly of Books in polemic
Divinity, most of which I read, and have since often regretted,
that at a time when I had such a Thirst for Knowledge, more
proper Books had not fallen in my Way, since it was now resolv'd
I should not be a Clergyman. Plutarch's Lives there was,
in which I read abundantly, and I still think that time spent to
great ["Great" seems to have been deleted.] Advantage. There
was also a Book of Defoe's, called an Essay on Projects, and
another of Dr. Mather's, called Essays 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 determin'd my Father to
make me a Printer, tho' he had already one Son (James) of that
Profession. In 1717 my Brother James return'd from England
with a Press and Letters to set up his Business in Boston. I lik'd
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 12 Years old.—I was
to serve as an Apprentice till I was 21 Years of Age, only I was
to be allow'd Journeyman's Wages during the last Year. In a
little time I made great Proficiency in the Business, and became
a useful Hand to my Brother. I now had 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 Room reading the
greatest Part of the Night, when the Book was borrow'd in the
Evening and to be return'd early in the Morning[,] lest it should
be miss'd or wanted. And after some time an ingenious Tradesman
Mr. Matthew Adams who had a pretty Collection of[13]
Books, and who frequented our Printing House, took Notice of
me, invited me to his Library, and very kindly lent me such
Books as I chose to read. I now took a Fancy to Poetry, and
made some little Pieces. My Brother, thinking it might turn to
account encourag'd me, and put me on composing two occasional
Ballads. One was called The Lighthouse Tragedy, and
contained an Acct of the drowning of Capt. Worthilake with
his Two Daughters; the other was a Sailor Song on the Taking
of Teach or Blackbeard the Pirate. They were wretched Stuff,
in the Grub-street Ballad Stile, and when they were printed he
sent me about the Town to sell them. The first sold wonderfully,
the Event being recent, having made a great Noise. This
flatter'd my Vanity. But my Father discourag'd me, by ridiculing
my Performances, and telling me Verse-makers were
generally Beggars; so I escap'd being a Poet, most 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 acquir'd
what little Ability I 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 disputacious Turn,
by the way, is apt to become a very bad Habit, making People
often extreamly disagreeable in Company, by the Contradiction
that is necessary to bring it into Practice, and thence, besides
souring and spoiling the Conversation, is productive of Disgusts
and perhaps Enmities where you may have occasion for
Friendship. I had caught it by reading my Father's Books of
Dispute about Religion. Persons of good Sense, I have since observ'd,
seldom fall into it, except Lawyers, University Men, and
Men of all Sorts that have been bred at Edinborough. A Question
was once somehow or other started between Collins and
me, of 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 a little for Dispute['s] sake. He was[14]
naturally more eloquent, had a ready Plenty of Words, and
sometimes as I thought bore me down 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 answer'd and I reply'd. Three of [or] four
Letters of a Side had pass'd, when my Father happen'd to find
my Papers, and read them. Without ent'ring into the Discussion,
he took occasion to talk to me about the Manner of my
Writing, observ'd that tho' I had the Advantage of my Antagonist
in correct Spelling and pointing (which I ow'd to the
Printing House) I fell far short in elegance of Expression, in
Method and in Perspicuity, of which he convinc'd me by several
Instances. I saw the Justice of his Remarks, and thence grew
more attentive to the Manner in writing, and determin'd to endeavour
at Improvement.—
About this time I met with an odd Volume of the Spectator.
It was the Third. 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 wish'd if possible to imitate
it. With that View, I took some of the Papers, and making
short Hints of the Sentiment in each Sentence, laid them by a
few Days, and then without looking at the Book, try'd to compleat
the Papers again, by expressing each hinted Sentiment at
length, and as fully as it had been express'd before, in any suitable
Words, that should come to hand.
Then I compar'd my Spectator with the Original, discover'd
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 acquir'd before that time, if I had
gone on making Verses, since the continual Occasion for Words
of the same Import but of different Length, to suit the Measure,
or of different Sound 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 and turn'd them into Verse:
And after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the Prose,[15]
turn'd them back again. I also sometimes jumbled my Collections
of Hints into Confusion, and after some Weeks, endeavour'd
to reduce them into the best Order, before I began to form
the full Sentences, and compleat the Paper. This was to teach
me Method in the Arrangement of Thoughts. By comparing
my work afterwards with the original, I discover'd many faults
and amended them; but I sometimes had the Pleasure of Fancying
that in certain Particulars of small Import, I had been lucky
enough to improve the Method or the Language and this encourag'd
me to think I might possibly in time come to be a tolerable
English Writer, of which I was extreamly ambitious.
My Time for these Exercises and for Reading, was at Night,
after Work or before it began in the Morning; or on Sundays,
when I contrived to be in the Printing House alone, evading as
much as I could the common Attendance on publick Worship,
which my Father used to exact of me when I was under his Care:
And which indeed I still thought a Duty; tho' I could not, as it
seemed to me, afford the Time to practise it.
When about 16 Years of Age, I happen'd to meet with a
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 Inconveniency,
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 propos'd to my Brother,
that 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 Books. But I had another
Advantage in it. My Brother and the rest going from the Printing
House to their Meals, I remain'd there alone, and dispatching
presently my light Repast, (which often was no more than a
Bisket or a Slice of Bread, a Handful of Raisins or a Tart from
the Pastry Cook's, and a Glass of Water) had the rest of the
Time till their Return, for Study, in which I made the greater[16]
Progress from that greater Clearness of Head and quicker Apprehension
which usually attend Temperance in Eating and
Drinking. And now it was that being on some Occasion made
asham'd of my Ignorance in Figures, which I had twice failed in
Learning when at School, I took Cocker's Book of Arithmetick,
and went thro' the whole by myself with great Ease. I also read
Seller's and Sturmy's Books of Navigation, and became acquainted
with the little Geometry they contain, but never proceeded
far in that Science.—And I read about this Time Locke
on 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) at the End of
which there were two little Sketches of the Arts of Rhetoric and
Logic, the latter finishing with a Specimen of a Dispute in the
Socratic Method. And soon after I procur'd Xenophon's
Memorable Things of Socrates, wherein there are many Instances
of the same Method. I was charm'd with it, adopted it,
dropt my abrupt Contradiction, and positive Argumentation,
and put on the humble Enquirer and Doubter. And being then,
from reading Shaftesbury and Collins, become a real Doubter in
many Points of our religious Doctrine, I found this Method
safest for myself and very embarrassing to those against whom I
us'd it, therefore I took a Delight in it, practis'd 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 continu'd
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 advance any thing that may possibly be disputed,
the Words, Certainly, undoubtedly; or any others that
give the Air of Positiveness to an Opinion; but rather say, I conceive,
or I apprehend a Thing to be so or so, It appears to me, or
I should think it so or 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[17]
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 engag'd in promoting.—And as
the chief Ends of Conversation are to inform, or to be informed,
to please or to persuade, I wish wellmeaning 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 every one of those Purposes for which Speech was
given us, to wit, giving or receiving Information, or Pleasure:
For if you would inform, a positive dogmatical Manner in advancing
your Sentiments, may provoke Contradiction and prevent
a candid Attention. If you wish Information and Improvement
from the Knowledge of others and yet at the same time
express yourself as firmly fix'd in your present Opinions, modest
sensible Men, who do not love Disputation, will probably leave
you undisturbed in the Possession of your Error; and by such a
Manner you can seldom hope to recommend yourself in pleasing
your Hearers, or to persuade those whose Concurrence you
desire.—Pope says, judiciously,
Men should be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot,—
farther recommending it to us,
To speak tho' sure, with seeming Diffidence.
And he might have coupled 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 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?[18]
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, begun to print a Newspaper.
It was the second that appear'd in America, and was called The
New England Courant.[2] 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.—He
went on however with the Undertaking, and after having
work'd in composing the Types and printing off the Sheets, I
was employ'd to carry the Papers thro' the Streets to the Customers.—He
had some ingenious Men among his Friends who
amus'd themselves by writing little Pieces for this Paper, which
gain'd 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 receiv'd with, I
was excited to try my Hand among them. But being still a Boy,
and suspecting that my Brother would object to printing any
Thing of mine in his Paper if he knew it to be mine, I contriv'd
to disguise my Hand, and writing an anonymous Paper I put it
in at Night under the Door of the Printing House. It was found
in the Morning and communicated to his Writing Friends when
they call'd in as usual. They read it, commented on it in my
Hearing, and I had the exquisite Pleasure, of finding it 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 now that I was rather
lucky in my Judges: And that perhaps they were not really so
very good ones as I then esteem'd them. Encourag'd however
by this, I wrote and convey'd in the same Way to the Press
several more Papers, which were equally approv'd, and I kept
my Secret till my small Fund of Sense for such Performances
was pretty well exhausted, and then I discovered it; when I began
to be considered a little more by my Brother's Acquaintance,
and in a manner that did not quite please him, as he thought,[19]
probably with reason, that it tended to make me too vain. And
perhaps this might be one Occasion of the Differences that we
began to have about this Time. Tho' 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 demean'd me too much in some he requir'd
of me, who from a Brother expected 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 extreamly
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.[B]
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, censur'd and imprison'd for a Month by the
Speaker's Warrant, I suppose because he would not discover his
Author. I too was taken up and examin'd before the Council;
but tho' I did not give them any Satisfaction, they contented
themselves with admonishing me, and dismiss'd 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 private 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
young Genius that had a Turn for Libelling and Satyr. My
Brother's Discharge was accompany'd with an Order of the
House, (a very odd one) that James Franklin should no longer
print the Paper called the New England Courant. There was a
Consultation held in our Printing House among his Friends
what he should do in this Case. Some propos'd to evade the
Order by changing the Name of the Paper; but my Brother seeing[20]
Inconveniences in that, it was finally concluded on as a better
Way, to let it be printed for the future under the Name of Benjamin
Franklin. And to avoid the Censure of the Assembly that
might fall on him, as still printing it by his Apprentice, the Contrivance
was, that my old Indenture should be return'd to me
with a full Discharge on the Back of it, to be shown on Occasion;
but to secure to him the Benefit of my Service I was to
sign new Indentures for the Remainder of the Term, wch were
to be kept private. A very flimsy Scheme it was, but however it
was immediately executed, and the Paper went on 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 one of the first Errata of
my life: But the Unfairness of it weighed little with me, when
under the Impressions of Resentment, for the Blows his Passion
too often urg'd him to bestow upon me. Tho' he was otherwise
not an ill-natur'd 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 of the
Town, by going round and speaking to every Master, who
accordingly refus'd to give me Work. I then thought of going
to New York as the nearest Place where there was a Printer: and
I was the rather inclin'd 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 stay'd soon bring myself
into Scrapes; and farther that my indiscrete Disputations
about Religion began to make me pointed at with Horror by
good People, as an Infidel or Atheist. I determin'd on the Point:
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 a little for
me. He agreed with the Captain of a New York Sloop for my
Passage, under the Notion of my being a young Acquaintance of
his that had got a naughty Girl with Child, whose Friends[21]
would compel me to marry her, and therefore I could not appear
or come away publickly. So I sold some of my Books to raise a
little Money, Was taken on board privately, and as we had a fair
Wind[,] in three Days I found myself in New York near 300
Miles from home, a Boy of but 17, without the least Recommendation
to or Knowledge of any Person in the Place, and
with very little Money in my Pocket.
My Inclinations for the Sea, were by this time worne out, or I
might now have gratify'd them. But having a Trade, and supposing
myself a pretty good Workman, I offer'd my Service to
the Printer in the Place, old Mr Wm Bradford, who had been
the first Printer in Pensilvania, but remov'd from thence upon
the Quarrel of Geo. Keith.—He could give me no Employment,
having little to do, and Help enough already: But, says he, my
Son at Philadelphia has lately lost his principal Hand, Aquila
Rose, by Death. If you go thither I believe he may employ
you.—Philadelphia was 100 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 reach'd thro' the Water to his shock Pate and
drew him up so that we got him in again. His ducking sober'd
him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of his Pocket a
Book which he desir'd I would dry for him. It prov'd to be my
old favourite Author Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress in Dutch,
finely printed on good Paper with 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 mix'd Narration and Dialogue, a Method of
Writing very engaging to the Reader, who in the most interesting
Parts finds himself, as it were brought into the Company,
and present at the Discourse. Defoe in his Cruso, his Moll
Flanders, Religious Courtship, Family Instructor, and other[22]
Pieces, has imitated it with Success. And Richardson has done
the same in his Pamela, etc.—
When we drew near the Island we found it was at a Place
where there could be no Landing, there being a great Surff on
the stony Beach. So we dropt Anchor and swung round towards
the Shore. Some People came down to the Water Edge
and hallow'd to us, as we did to them. But the Wind was so
high and the Surff so loud, that we could not hear so as to understand
each other. There were Canoes on the Shore, and we
made Signs and hallow'd that they should fetch us, but they
either did not understand us, or thought it impracticable. So
they went away, and Night coming on, we had no Remedy but
to wait till the Wind should abate, and in the mean time the
Boatman and I concluded to sleep if we could, and so crouded
into the Scuttle with the Dutchman who was still wet, and the
Spray beating over the Head of our Boat, leak'd thro' 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 30
Hours on the Water without Victuals, or any Drink but a Bottle
of filthy Rum: The Water we sail'd on being salt.—
In the Evening I found myself very feverish, and went in to
Bed. But having read somewhere that cold Water drank plentifully
was good for a Fever, I follow'd the Prescription, 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 50 Miles to Burlington, where I was told I should find
Boats that would carry me the rest of the Way to Philadelphia.
It rain'd very hard all the Day, I was thoroughly soak'd, and
by Noon a good deal tir'd, so I stopt at a poor Inn, where I staid
all Night, beginning now to wish I had never left home. I cut so
miserable a Figure too, that I found by the Questions ask'd me I
was suspected to be some runaway Servant, and in danger of
being taken up on that Suspicion. However I proceeded the
next Day, and got in the Evening to an Inn within 8 or 10 Miles
of Burlington, kept by one Dr Brown.—
He ent[e]red into Conversation with me while I took some[23]
Refreshment, and finding I had read a little, became very sociable
and friendly. Our Acquaintance continu'd as long as he
liv'd. He had been, I imagine, an itinerant Doctor, for there
was no Town in England, or Country in Europe, of which he
could not give a very particular Account. He had some Letters,
and was ingenious, but much of an Unbeliever, and wickedly
undertook, some Years after to travesty the Bible in doggrel
Verse as Cotton had done Virgil. By this means he set many of
the Facts in a very ridiculous Light, and might have hurt weak
minds if his Work had been publish'd:—but it never was.—At
his House I lay that Night, and the next Morning reach'd Burlington.—But
had the Mortification to find that the regular
Boats were gone, a little before my coming, and no other expected
to go till Tuesday, this being Saturday. Wherefore I returned
to an old Woman in the Town of whom I had bought
Gingerbread to eat on the Water, and ask'd her Advice; she invited
me to lodge at her House till a Passage by Water should
offer: and being tired with my foot Travelling, I accepted the
Invitation. She understanding I was a Printer, would have had
me stay at that Town and follow my Business, being ignorant of
the Stock necessary to begin with. She was very hospitable,
gave me a Dinner of Ox Cheek with great Goodwill, accepting
only of a Pot of Ale in return. And I thought myself fix'd 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 row'd all the Way; and
about Midnight not having yet seen the City, some of the Company
were confident we must have pass'd 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 remain'd 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 arriv'd there about 8 or 9 o'Clock, on the Sunday morning,
and landed at the Market street Wharff.[24]—
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 Cloaths being to come round by Sea. I was
dirty from my Journey; my Pockets were stuff'd out with
Shirts and Stockings; I knew no Soul, nor where to look for
Lodging. I was fatigued with Travelling, Rowing and Want
of Rest. I was very hungry, and my whole Stock of Cash consisted
of a Dutch Dollar and about a Shilling in Copper. The
latter I gave the People of the Boat for my Passage, who at first
refus'd it on Acct of my Rowing; but I insisted on their taking
it, a Man being sometimes more generous when he has but a
little Money than when he has plenty, perhaps thro' Fear of being
thought to have but little. Then I walk'd up the Street, gazing
about, till near the Market House I met a Boy with Bread. I
had made many a Meal on Bread, and inquiring where he got it,
I went immediately to the Baker's he directed me to in Second
Street; and ask'd for Bisket, intending such as we had in Boston,
but they it seems were not made in Philadelphia, then I ask'd for
a threepenny Loaf, and was told they had none such: so not
considering or knowing the Difference of Money and the
greater Cheapness nor the Names of his Bread, I bad[e] him give
me threepenny worth of any sort. He gave me accordingly
three great Puffy Rolls. I was surpriz'd at the Quantity, but
took it, and having no room in my Pockets, walk'd 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 turn'd 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 Wharff,
near the Boat I came in, to which I went for a Draught of the
River Water, and being fill'd 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 refresh'd[25]
I walk'd again, up the Street, which by this time had
many clean dress'd People in it who were all walking the same
Way; I join'd 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 thro' Labour and want of Rest the preceding Night,
I fell fast asleep, and continu'd so till the Meeting broke up,
when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was therefore the
first House I was in or slept in, in Philadelphia.—
Walking again down towards the River, and looking in the
Faces of People, I met a young Quaker Man whose Countenance
I lik'd, and accosting him requested he would tell me
where a Stranger could get Lodging. We were then near the
Sign of the Three Mariners. Here, says he, is one Place that entertains
Strangers, but it is not a reputable House; if thee wilt
walk with me, I'll show thee a better. He brought me to the
Crooked Billet in Water Street. Here I got a Dinner. And
while I was eating it, several sly Questions were ask'd me, as it
seem'd to be suspected from my youth and Appearance, that I
might be some Runaway. After Dinner my Sleepiness return'd:
and being shown to a Bed, I lay down without undressing, and
slept till Six in the Evening; was call'd to Supper; went to Bed
again very early and slept soundly till next Morning. Then I
made myself as tidy 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 introduc'd me to his Son,
who receiv'd me civilly, gave me a Breakfast, but told me he did
not at present want a Hand, being lately supply'd 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, Neighbor, says Bradford, I
have brought to see you a young Man of your Business, perhaps
you may want such a One. He ask'd me a few Questions, put a[26]
Composing Stick in my Hand to see how I work'd, and then
said he would employ me soon, tho' he had just then nothing
for me to do. And taking old Bradford whom he had never seen
before, to be one of the Towns People that had a Good Will for
him, enter'd into a 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 Interest he rely'd on, and in what manner he intended
to proceed.—I who stood by and heard all, saw immediately
that one of them was a crafty old Sophister, and the
other a mere Novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was
greatly surpriz'd when I told him who the old Man was.
Keimer's Printing House I found, consisted of an old shatter'd
Press, and one small worn-out Fount of English, which he
was then using himself, composing in it an Elegy on Aquila Rose
before-mentioned, an ingenious young Man of excellent Character
much respected in the Town, Clerk of the Assembly, and a
pretty Poet. Keimer made Verses, too, but very indifferently.
He could not be said to write them, for his Manner was to compose
them in the Types directly out of his Head; so there being
no Copy, but one Pair of Cases, and the Elegy likely to require
all the Letter[s], no one could help him.—I endeavour'd to put
his Press (which he had not yet us'd, and of which he understood
nothing) into Order fit to be work'd with; and promising
to come and print off his Elegy as soon as he should have got it
ready, I return'd 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 not been bred to it, and was very illiterate;
and Keimer tho' 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[27]
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
work'd 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 beforementioned, who was the Owner of his House.
And my Chest and 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 happen'd 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 gaining Money by my
Industry and Frugality, I lived very agreably, forgetting Boston
as much as I could, and not desiring that any there should know
where I resided, except my Friend Collins who was in my Secret,
and kept it when I wrote to him. At length an Incident
happened that sent me back again 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 New
Castle 40 Miles below Philadelphia, heard there of me, and
wrote me a Letter, mentioning the Concern of my Friends in
Boston at my abrupt Departure, assuring me of their Good will
to me, and that every thing would be accommodated to my
Mind if I would return, to which he exhorted me very earnestly.
I wrote an Answer to his Letter, thank'd him for his Advice, but
stated my Reasons for quitting Boston fully, and in such a Light
as to convince him I was not so wrong as he had apprehended.
Sir William Keith[3] Governor of the Province, was then at New
Castle, and Capt. Holmes happening to be in Company with
him when my Letter came to hand, spoke to him of me, and
show'd him the Letter. The Governor read it, and seem'd surpriz'd
when he was told my Age. He said I appear'd a young
Man of promising Parts, and therefore should be encouraged:
The Printers at Philadelphia were wretched ones, and if I would[28]
set up there, he made no doubt I should succeed; for his Part, he
would procure me the publick Business, and do me every other
Service in his Power. This my Brother-in-law afterwards 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 (which prov'd to be Col.
French, of New Castle) finely dress'd, 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
enquir'd for me, came up, and with a Condescension and Politeness
I had been quite unus'd to, made me many Compliments,
desired to be acquainted with me, blam'd 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 Col. French to taste as he said some excellent
Madeira. I was not a little surpriz'd, and Keimer star'd like a
Pig poison'd. I went however with the Governor and Col.
French, to a Tavern [at] the Corner of Third Street, and over the
Madeira he propos'd my Setting up my Business, laid before me
the Probabilities of Success, and both he and Col. French, assur'd
me I should have their Interest and Influence in procuring
the Publick Business of both Governments. On my doubting
whether my Father would assist me in it, Sir William said he
would give me a Letter to him, in which he would state the Advantages,
and he did not doubt of prevailing with him. So it
was concluded I should return to Boston in the first Vessel with
the Governor's Letter recommending me to my Father. In the
mean time the Intention was to be kept secret, and I went on
working with Keimer as usual, the Governor sending for me
now and then to dine with him, a very great Honour I thought
it, and conversing with me in the most affable, familiar, and
friendly manner imaginable. About the End of April 1724 a
little Vessel offer'd 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 must make my Fortune. We struck on a Shoal in going[29]
down the Bay and sprung a Leak, we had a blustering time
at Sea, and were oblig'd to pump almost continually, at which I
took my Turn. We arriv'd safe however at Boston in about a
Fortnight.—I had been absent Seven Months and my Friends
had heard nothing of me; for my Br. Holmes was not yet return'd;
and had not written about me. My unexpected Appearance
surpriz'd 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 dress'd than ever while in
his Service, having a genteel new Suit from Head to foot, a
Watch, and my Pockets lin'd with near Five Pounds Sterling in
Silver. He receiv'd me not very frankly, look'd me all over, and
turn'd to his Work again. The JourneyMen were inquisitive
where I had been, what sort of a Country it was, and how I lik'd
it? I prais'd 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 produc'd a handful of Silver
and spread it before them, which was a kind of Raree Show they
had not been us'd 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) I gave them a Piece of Eight
to drink, and took my Leave.—This Visit of mine offended him
extreamly. For when my Mother some time after spoke to him
of a Reconciliation, and of her Wishes 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 apparent
Surprize; but said little of it to me for some Days; when Capt.
Holmes returning, he show'd it to him, ask'd if he knew Keith,
and what kind of a Man he was: Adding his Opinion that he must
be of small Discretion, to think of setting a Boy up in Business
who wanted yet 3 Years of being at Man's Estate. Holmes said
what he could in favr of the Project; but my Father was clear in
the Impropriety of it; and at last gave a flat Denial to it. Then
he wrote a civil Letter to Sir William thanking him for the[30]
Patronage he had so kindly offered me, but declining to assist
me as yet in Setting up, I being in his Opinion too young to be
trusted with the Management of a Business so important, and for
which the Preparation must be so expensive.—
My Friend and Companion Collins, who was a Clerk at the
Post-Office, pleas'd with the Account I gave him of my new
Country, determin'd to go thither also: And while I waited for
my Fathers Determination, he set out before me by Land to
Rhodeisland, leaving his Books which were a pretty Collection
of Mathematicks and Natural Philosophy, to come with mine
and me to New York where he propos'd to wait for me. My
Father, tho' he did not approve Sir William's Proposition was
yet pleas'd 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, advis'd 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 a 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 embark'd again for New-York, now
with their Approbation and their Blessing.—
The Sloop putting in at Newport, Rhodeisland, I visited my
Brother John, who had been married and settled there some
Years. He received me very affectionately, for he always lov'd
me. A Friend of his, one Vernon, having some Money due to
him in Pensilvania, about 35 Pounds Currency, desired I would
receive it for him, and keep it till I had his Directions what to
remit it in. Accordingly he gave me an Order.—This afterwards
occasion'd me a good deal of Uneasiness. At Newport
we took in a Number of Passengers for New York: Among
which were two young Women, Companions, and a grave, sensible[31]
Matron-like Quaker-Woman with her Attendants.—I had
shown an obliging readiness to do her some little Services which
impress'd her I suppose with a degree of Good-will towards me.—Therefore
when she saw a daily growing Familiarity between
me and the two Young Women, which they appear'd to encourage,
she took me aside and said, Young Man, I am concern'd
for thee, as thou has no Friend with thee, and seems not to know
much of the World, or of the Snares Youth is expos'd to; depend
upon it those are very bad Women, I can see it in all their Actions,
and if thee 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 seem'd at first not to think so ill of them as she
did, she mention'd some Things she had observ'd and heard
that had escap'd my Notice; but now convinc'd me she was
right. I thank'd her for her kind Advice, and promis'd to follow
it.—When we arriv'd at New York, they told me where they
liv'd, and invited me to come and see them: but I avoided it.
And it was well I did: For the next Day, the Captain miss'd a
Silver Spoon and some other Things that had been taken out of
his Cabbin, and knowing that these were a Couple of Strumpets,
he got a Warrant to search their Lodgings, found the stolen
Goods, and had the Thieves punish'd. So tho' we had escap'd
a sunken Rock which we scrap'd upon in the Passage, I thought
this Escape of rather more Importance to me. At New York I
found my Friend Collins, who had arriv'd 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 outstript me. While I liv'd in
Boston most of my Hours of Leisure for Conversation were
spent with him, and he continu'd a sober as well as an industrious
Lad; was much respected for his Learning by several of the
Clergy and other Gentlemen, and seem'd to promise making a
good Figure in Life: but during my Absence he had acquir'd a
Habit of Sotting with Brandy; and I found by his own Account
and what I heard from others, that he had been drunk every day[32]
since his Arrival at New York, and behav'd very oddly. He had
gam'd too and lost his Money, so that I was oblig'd to discharge
his Lodgings, and defray his Expenses to and at Philadelphia:
Which prov'd extreamly inconvenient to me. The then Governor
of N[ew] York, Burnet, Son of Bishop Burnet hearing from
the Captain that a young Man, one of his Passengers, had a great
many Books, desired he would bring me to see him. I waited
upon him accordingly, and should have taken Collins with me
but that he was not sober. The Govr treated me with great
Civility, show'd me his Library, which was a very large one, and
we had a good deal of Conversation about Books and Authors.
This was the second Governor who had done me the Honour to
take Notice of me, which to 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 finish'd
our Journey. Collins wish'd to be employ'd in some Counting
House; but whether they discover'd his Dramming by his
Breath, or by his Behaviour, tho' he had some Recommendations,
he met with no Success in any Application, and continu'd
Lodging and Boarding at the same House with me and at my Expense.
Knowing 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 distress'd to think what I should do, in case of being call'd
on to remit it. His Drinking continu'd, about which we sometimes
quarrel'd, for when a little intoxicated he was very fractious.
Once in a Boat on the Delaware with some other young
Men, he refused to row in his Turn: I will be row'd home, says he.
We will not row you, says I. You must or stay all Night on the
Water, says he, just as you please. The others said, Let us row;
what signifies it? But my Mind being soured with his other Conduct,
I continu'd 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 clapt
my Hand under his Crutch, and rising pitch'd 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[33]
round to lay hold of the Boat, we had with a few Strokes pull'd
her out of his Reach. And ever when he drew near the Boat, we
ask'd if he would row, striking a few Strokes to slide her away
from him.—He was ready to die with Vexation, and obstinately
would not promise to row; however seeing him at last beginning
to tire, we lifted him in; and brought him home dripping wet in
the Evening. We hardly exchang'd a civil Word afterwards;
and a West India Captain who had a Commission to procure a
Tutor for the Sons of a Gentleman at Barbadoes, happening to
meet with him, agreed to carry him thither. He left me then,
promising to remit me the first Money he should receive in order
to discharge the Debt. But I never heard of him after. The
Breaking into this Money of Vernon's was one of the first great
Errata of my Life[.] And this Affair show'd that my Father was
not much out in his Judgment when he suppos'd me too Young
to manage Business of Importance. But Sir William, on reading
his Letter, said he was too prudent. There was great Difference
in Persons, and Discretion did not always accompany Years,
nor was Youth always without it. And since he will not set you
up, says he, 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 resolv'd 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 advis'd me not to rely on him, as I afterwards 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 believ'd him one of the
best Men in the World.—
I presented him an Inventory of a little Print[8] House,
amounting by my Computation to about 100£ Sterling. He
lik'd it, but ask'd me if my being on the Spot in England to
chuse the Types and see that every thing was good of the kind,[34]
might not be of some Advantage. Then, says he, when there,
you may make Acquaintances and establish Correspondencies
in the Bookselling and Stationary Way. I agreed that this might
be advantageous. Then, says he, get yourself ready to go with
Annis; which was the annual Ship, and the only one at that Time
usually passing between London and Philadelphia. But it would
be some Months before Annis sail'd, so I continu'd working
with Keimer, fretting about the Money Collins had got from me;
and in daily Apprehensions of being call'd upon by Vernon,
which however did not happen for some Years after.—
I believe I have omitted mentioning that in my first Voyage
from Boston, being becalm'd off Block Island, our People set
about catching Cod and haul'd up a great many. Hitherto I had
stuck to my Resolution of not eating animal Food; and on this
Occasion, I consider'd with my Master Tryon, the taking every
Fish as a kind of unprovoked Murder, since none of them had or
ever could do us any Injury that might justify the Slaughter. All
this seem'd very reasonable.—But I had formerly been a great
Lover of Fish, and when this came hot out of the Frying Pan, it
smelt admirably well. I balanc'd some time between Principle
and Inclination: till I recollected, that when the 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 mayn't eat
you. So I din'd upon Cod very heartily and continu'd to eat
with 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 every
thing one has a mind to do.
Keimer and I liv'd on a pretty good familiar Footing and
agreed tolerably well: for he suspected nothing of my Setting up.
He retain'd a great deal of his old Enthusiasms, and lov'd Argumentation.
We therefore had many Disputations. I used to
work him so with my Socratic Method, and had trepann'd him
so often by Questions apparently so distant from any Point we
had in hand, and yet by degrees led to the Point, and brought
him into Difficulties and Contradictions that at last he grew
ridiculously cautious, and would hardly answer me the most[35]
common Question, 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 propos'd 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 Essentials with him. I dislik'd both, but agreed to
admit them upon Condition of his adopting the Doctrine of
using no animal Food. I doubt, says he, my Constitution will
not bear that. I assur'd him it would, and that he would be the
better for it. He was usually a great Glutton, and I promis'd
myself some Diversion in half-starving him. He agreed to try
the Practice if I would keep him Company. I did so and we
held it for three Months. We had our Victuals dress'd and
brought to us regularly by a Woman in the Neighbourhood, who
had from me a List of 40 Dishes to be prepar'd for us at different
times, in all which there was neither Fish Flesh nor Fowl,
and the whim suited me the better at this time from the Cheapness
of it, not costing us above 18d 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 suffer'd grievously, tir'd of the
Project, long'd for the Flesh Pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast
Pig. He invited me and two Women Friends to dine with him,
but it being brought too soon upon the table, he could not resist
the Temptation, and ate it all up 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 Reason
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[36]
18, 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 expected 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
two first were Clerks to an eminent Scrivener or Conveyancer in
the Town, Charles Brogden; the other was 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 Criticising. Ralph, was ingenious,
genteel in his Manners, and extreamly eloquent; I think I never
knew a prettier Talker. Both of them great Admirers of Poetry,
and began to try their Hands in little Pieces. Many pleasant
Walks we four had together on Sundays into the Woods near
Schuylkill, where we read to one another and conferr'd on what
we read. Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the Study of Poetry, not
doubting but he might become eminent in it and make his Fortune
by it, alledging that the best Poets must when they first
began to write, make as many Faults as he did.—Osborne
dissuaded him, assur'd him he had no Genius for Poetry, and
advis'd him to think of nothing beyond the Business he was
bred to; that in the mercantile way tho' 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 approv'd 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 propos'd 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 18th Psalm, which describes[37]
the Descent of a Deity. When the Time of our Meeting
drew nigh, Ralph call'd 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 show'd me his Piece for
my Opinion; and I much approv'd it, as it appear'd to me to have
great Merit. Now, says he, Osborne never will allow the least
Merit in any thing of mine, but makes 1000 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
see what he will say to it. It was agreed, and I immediately
transcrib'd 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, remark'd some Faults, but applauded the
Beauties. He himself had nothing to produce. I was backward,
seem'd desirous of being excused, had not had sufficient Time
to correct, etc. but no Excuse could be admitted, produce I must.
It was read and repeated; Watson and Osborne gave up the Contest;
and join'd in applauding it immoderately. Ralph only
made some Criticisms and propos'd some Amendments, but I
defended my Text. Osborne was against Ralph, and told him
he was no better a Critic than Poet; so he dropt the Argument.
As they two went home together, Osborne express'd himself
still more strongly in favour of what he thought my Production,
having restrain'd himself before as he said, lest I should think it
Flattery. But who would have imagin'd, says he, that Franklin
had been capable of such a Performance; such Painting, such
Force! such Fire! he has even improv'd the Original! In his 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 discover'd the Trick we had plaid
him, and Osborne was a little laught at. This Transaction fix'd
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 cur'd him. He became however a pretty good Prose
Writer. More of him hereafter. But as I may not have occasion[38]
again 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, but died young.
He and I had made a serious Agreement, that the one who happen'd
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 fulfill'd his Promise.
The Governor, seeming to like my Company, had me frequently
to his House; and his Setting me up was always mention'd
as a fix'd 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 and Types, Paper, etc. 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 call'd to take my
Leave and receive the Letters, his Secretary, Dr. Bard, came out
to me and said the Governor was extreamly busy, in writing, but
would be down at Newcastle before the Ship, and there the
Letters would be delivered to me.
Ralph, tho' 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 afterwards, that thro' some Discontent
with his Wife's Relations, he purposed to leave her on their
Hands, and never return again.—Having taken leave of my
Friends, and interchang'd some Promises with Miss Read, I left
Philadelphia in the Ship, which anchor'd at Newcastle. The
Governor was there. But when I went to his Lodging, the
Secretary came to me from him with the civillest Message in the
World, that he could not then see me being engag'd in Business
of the utmost Importance, but should send the Letters to me on
board, wish'd me heartily a good Voyage and a speedy Return,
etc. I return'd on board, a little puzzled, but still not doubting.[39]—
Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous Lawyer of Philadelphia, had
taken Passage in the same Ship for himself and Son: and with
Mr. Denham a Quaker Merchant, and Messrs. Onion and Russell[,]
Masters of an Iron Work in Maryland, had engag'd the
Great Cabin; so that Ralph and I were forc'd 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) return'd from New Castle to
Philadelphia, the Father being recall'd by a great Fee to plead
for a seized Ship.—And just before we sail'd Col. 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 remov'd thither.
Understanding that Col. French had brought on board the
Governor's Dispatches, I ask'd 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 satisfy'd 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 none upon which my Name
was put, as under my Care; I pick'd out 6 or 7 that by the Hand
writing I thought might be the promis'd Letters, especially as
one of them was directed to Basket the King's printer, and another
to some Stationer. We arriv'd in London the 24th of
December, 1724.—I waited upon the Stationer who came first in
my Way, delivering the Letter as from Gov. Keith. I don't
know such a Person, says he: but opening the Letter, O, this is
from Riddlesden; I have lately found him to be a compleat Rascal,[40]
and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any Letters
from him. So putting the Letter into my Hand, he turn'd
on his Heel and left me to serve some Customer. I was surprized
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 Dependence on
him, and he laught at the Notion 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 advis'd
me to endeavour getting some Employment in the Way of my
Business. Among the Printers here, says he, you will improve
yourself; and when you return to America, you will set up to
greater Advantage.—
We both of us happen'd to know, as well as the Stationer,
that Riddlesden the Attorney, was a very Knave. He had half
ruin'd Miss Read's Father by acquiring his note he bound for
him. By his Letter it appear'd, there was a secret Scheme on foot
to the Prejudice of Hamilton, (suppos'd to be then coming over
with us,) and that Keith was concern'd in it with Riddlesden.
Denham, who was a Friend of Hamilton's, thought he ought to
be acquainted with it. So when he arriv'd 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 thank'd me cordially, the
Information being of Importance to him. And from that time
he became my Friend, greatly to my Advantage afterwards on
many Occasions.
But what shall we think of a Governor's playing such pitiful
Tricks, and imposing so grossly on a poor ignorant Boy! It
was a Habit he had acquired. He wish'd to please every body;
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, tho' not for his Constituents the
Proprietaries, whose Instructions he sometimes disregarded.—Several[41]
of our best Laws were of his Planning, and pass'd during
his Administration.—
Ralph and I were inseparable Companions. We took Lodgings
together in Little Britain at 3/6 p[er] 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 Philada—He had brought no Money with him, the whole
he could muster having been expended in paying his Passage.
I had 15 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 qualify'd for an
Actor; but Wilkes to whom he apply'd, advis'd him candidly
not to think of that Employment, as it was impossible he should
succeed in it.—Then he propos'd 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 endeavour'd to get Employmt as a Hackney
Writer to copy for the Stationers and Lawyers about the Temple:
but could find no Vacancy.—
I immediately got into Work at Palmer's then a famous
Printing House in Bartholomew Close; and here I continu'd
near a Year. I was pretty diligent; but spent with Ralph a good
deal of my Earnings in going to Plays and other Places of
Amusement. We had together consum'd all my Pistoles, and
now just rubb'd on from hand to mouth. He seem'd quite to
forget his Wife and Child, and I by degrees my Engagements
wth 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 should
wish to correct if I were to live it over again.—In fact, by our
Expences, I was constantly kept unable to pay my Passage.
At Palmer's I was employ'd in composing for the second Edition
of Woollaston's [sic] 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[42]
pain. I inscrib'd it to my Friend Ralph.—I printed a small Number.
It occasion'd my being more consider'd by Mr. Palmer, as
a young Man of some Ingenuity, tho' he seriously Expostulated
with me upon the Principles of my Pamphlet which to him appear'd
abominable. My printing this Pamphlet was another
Erratum.
In our House there lodg'd a young Woman; a Millener,
who I think had a Shop in the Cloisters. She had been genteelly
bred, was sensible and lively, and of most pleasing Conversation.
Ralph read Plays to her in the Evenings, they grew
intimate, she took another Lodging, and he follow'd her. They
liv'd together some time, but he being still out of Business, and
her Income not sufficient to maintain them with her Child, he
took a Resolution of going from London, to try for a Country
School, which bethought himself well qualify'd to undertake, as
he wrote an excellent Hand, and was a Master of Arithmetic and
Accounts.—This however he deem'd a Business below him,
and confident of future better Fortune when he should be unwilling
to have it known that he once was so meanly employ'd,
he chang'd his Name, and did me the Honour to assume mine.—For
I soon after had a Letter from him, acquainting me, that he
was settled in a small Village in Berkshire, I think it was, where
he taught reading and writing to 10 or a dozen Boys at 6 pence
each p[er] Week, recommending Mrs. T. to my Care, and desiring
me to write to him directing for Mr. Franklin Schoolmaster
at such a Place. He continu'd to write frequently, sending me
large Specimens of an Epic Poem, which he was then composing,
and desiring my Remarks and Corrections.—These I gave him
from time to time, but endeavour'd rather to discourage his
Proceeding. One of Young's Satires was then just publish'd.
I copy'd and sent him a great Part of it, which set in a strong
Light the Folly of pursuing the Muses with any Hope of Advancement
by them. All was in vain. Sheets of the Poem continu'd
to come by every Post. In the mean time Mrs. T. having
on his Account lost her Friends and Business, was often in Distresses,
and us'd to send for me, and borrow what I could spare
to help her out of them. I grew fond of her Company, and being[43]
at this time under no Religious Restraints, and presuming on
my Importance to her, I attempted Familiarities, (another Erratum)
which she repuls'd with a proper Resentment, and acquainted
him with my Behaviour. This made a Breach between
us, and when he return'd again to London, he let me know he
thought I had cancell'd all the Obligations he had been under
to me.—So I found I was never to expect his Repaying me what
I lent to him or advanc'd for him. This was however not then
of much Consequence, as he was totally unable: And in the Loss
of his Friendship I found myself reliev'd from a Burthen. I now
began to think of getting a little Money beforehand; and expecting
better Work, I left Palmer's to work at Watts's near Lincoln's
Inn Fields, a still greater Printing House. Here I continu'd
all the rest of my Stay in London.
While I lodg'd in Little Britain I made an Acquaintance with
one Wilcox a Bookseller, whose Shop was at the 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 esteem'd 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 intitled The Infallibility of
Human Judgment, it occasioned an Acquaintance between us; he
took great Notice of me, call'd on me often, to converse on
those Subjects, carried me to the Horns a pale Alehouse in ——
Lane, Cheapside, and introduc'd me to Dr. Mandevil[l]e, 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, at Batson's Coffee
House, who promis'd to give me an Opportunity some time or
other of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I was extreamly 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, and invited me to his
House in Bloomsbury Square; where he show'd me all his[44]
Curiosities, and persuaded me to let him add that to the Number,
for which he paid me handsomely.[4]—
At my first Admission into this Printing House, I took to
working at Press, imagining I felt a Want of the Bodily Exercise
I had been us'd to in America, where Presswork is mix'd
with Composing, I drank only Water, the other Workmen,
near 50 in Number, were great Guzzlers 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 wonder'd to
see from this and several Instances that the water-American as
they call'd 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 suppos'd, to drink
strong Beer that he might be strong to labour. I endeavour'd 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 Penny-worth of Bread, and therefore if he would eat
that with a Pint of Water, it would give him more Strength than
a Quart of Beer.—He drank on however, and had 4 or 5 Shillings
to pay out of his Wages every Saturday Night for that
muddling Liquor; an Expence 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 Bienvenu or Sum for
Drink; being 5/, was demanded of me by the Compositors. I
thought it an Imposition, as I had paid below. The Master
thought so too, and forbad[e] my Paying it. I stood out two or
three Weeks, was accordingly considered as an Excommunicate,
and had so many little Pieces of private Mischief done me, by
mixing my Sorts, transposing my Pages, breaking my Matter,
etc. etc. and if I were ever so little out of the Room, and all[45]
ascrib'd to the Chapel Ghost, which they said ever haunted
those not regularly admitted, that notwithstanding the Master's
Protection, I found myself oblig'd to comply and pay the
Money; convinc'd 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 acquir'd considerable Influence. I propos'd
some reasonable Alterations in their Chapel[C] Laws, and carried
them against all Opposition. From my Example a great Part of
them, left their muddling Breakfast of Beer and Bread and
Cheese, finding they could with me be supply'd from a neighbouring
House with a large Porringer of hot Water-gruel,
sprinkled with Pepper, crumb'd 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 cheaper Breakfast, and kept
their Heads clearer.—Those who continu'd sotting with Beer
all day, were often, by not paying, out of Credit at the Alehouse,
and us'd to make Interest with me to get Beer, their Light, as
they phras'd it, being out. I watch'd the Pay table on Saturday
Night, and collected what I stood engag'd for them, having to
pay some times near Thirty Shillings a Week on their Accounts.—This,
and my being esteem'd a pretty good Riggite, that is a
jocular verbal Satyrist, 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, occasion'd my being put upon all Work of Dispatch
which was generally better paid. So I went on now very
agreably.—
My Lodging in Little Britain being too remote, I found another
in Duke-street opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was
two pair of Stairs backwards at an Italian Warehouse. A Widow
Lady kept the House; she had a Daughter and a Maid Servant,
and a Journey-man who attended the Warehouse, but lodg'd
abroad. After sending to enquire my Character at the House
where I last lodg'd, she agreed to take me in at the same Rate 3/6
p[er] Week, cheaper as she said from the Protection she expected[46]
in having a Man 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 1000 Anecdotes of
them as far back as the Times of Charles the Second. She was
lame in her Knees with the Gout, and therefore seldom stirr'd
out of her Room, so sometimes wanted Company; and hers was
so highly amusing [Franklin first wrote "agreable"; both it and
"amusing" are deleted in the MS.] 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 Strip 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 talk'd of a Lodging I had
heard of, nearer my Business, for 2/ a Week, which, intent as I
now was on saving Money, made some Difference; she bid me
not think of it, for she would abate me two Shillings a Week for
the future, so I remain'd with her at 1/6 as long as I staid in
London.—
In a Garret of her House there lived a Maiden Lady of 70 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 lodg'd in a Nunnery with an Intent of becoming
a Nun: but the Country not agreeing with her, she return'd
to England, where there being no Nunnery, she had vow'd 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
Uses, reserving only Twelve Pounds a Year to live on, and out
of this Sum she still gave a great deal in Charity, living herself
on Watergruel 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 deem'd it a Blessing to have her there. A Priest visited her,
to confess her every Day. I have ask'd her, says my Landlady,
how she, as she liv'd, could possibly find so much Employment[47]
for a Confessor? O, says she, it is impossible to avoid vain
Thoughts. I was permitted once to visit her: She was chearful
and polite, and convers'd pleasantly. The Room was clean, but
had no other Furniture than a Matras, a Table with a Crucifix
and 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 explain'd to me with great Seriousness. She look'd
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 Printinghouse I contracted an Acquaintance with
an ingenious young Man, one Wygate, who having wealthy
Relations, had been better educated than most Printers, was a
tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and lov'd Reading. I taught
him and a Friend of his, to swim, at twice going into the River,
and they soon became good Swimmers. They introduc'd me to
some Gentlemen from the Country who went to Chelsea by
Water to see the College and Don Saltero's Curiosities.[5] In our
Return, at the Request of the Company, whose Curiosity Wygate
had excited, I stript and leapt into the River, and swam from
near Chelsea to Blackfryars, performing on the Way many
Feats of Activity both upon and under Water, that surpriz'd
and pleas'd those to whom they were Novelties.—I had from a
Child been ever delighted with this Exercise, had studied and
practis'd all Thevenot's Motions and Positions, added some of
my 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 flatter'd by their Admiration.—And Wygate, who
was desirous of becoming a Master, grew more and more attach'd
to me, on that account, as well as from the Similarity of
our Studies. He at length propos'd to me travelling all over
Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working
at our Business. I was once inclin'd 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 Pensilvania, which he was now
about to do.[48]
I must record one Trait of this good Man's Character. He
had formerly been in Business at Bristol, but fail'd in Debt to a
Number of People, compounded and went to America. There,
by a close Application to Business as a Merchant, he acquir'd 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 thank'd them for the easy Composition they had
favour'd 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 propos'd 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 etc to the West
Indies, and procure me Commissions from others; which would
be profitable, and if I manag'd well, would establish me handsomely.
The Thing pleas'd me, for I was grown tired of London,
remember'd with Pleasure the happy Months I had spent in
Pennsylvania, and wish'd again to see it. Therefore I immediately
agreed, on the Terms of Fifty Pounds a Year, Pensylvania
Money less indeed than my then present Gettings as a Compositor,
but affording a better Prospect.—
I now took leave of Printing; as I thought for ever, and was
daily employ'd in my new Business; going about with Mr. Denham
among the Tradesmen, to purchase various Articles, and
seeing them pack'd up, doing Errands, calling upon Workmen
to dispatch, etc. 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, a Sir William Wyndham and
I waited upon him. He had heard by some means or other of
my Swimming from Chelsey to Blackfryars, 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 wish'd to[49]
have them first taught Swimming; and propos'd 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 this 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 sooner made me, probably I should not so
soon have returned to America.—After many Years, you and I
had something of more Importance to do with one of these Sons
of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which I
shall mention in its Place.—[This promise Franklin did not fulfill.]
Thus I spent about 18 Months in London. Most Part of the
Time, I work'd 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 27 Pounds; which I was
now never likely to receive; a great Sum out of my small Earnings.
I lov'd him notwithstanding, for he had many amiable
Qualities.—Tho' I had by no means improv'd my Fortune.
But I had pick'd up some very ingenious Acquaintance whose
Conversation was of great Advantage to me, and I had read
considerably.
We sail'd 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 [This Plan is not found in the
Journal printed in Writings, II, 53-86.] to be found in it which I
formed at Sea, for regulating my future Conduct in Life. It is
the more remarkable, as being formed when I was so young,
and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite thro' to old Age.—We
landed in Philadelphia on the 11th of October, where I
found sundry Alterations. Keith was no longer Governor, being
superceded by Major Gordon: I met him walking the Streets as
a common Citizen. He seem'd a little asham'd at seeing me, but
pass'd without saying any thing. I should have been as much
asham'd at seeing Miss Read, had not her Frds, despairing with
Reason of my Return, after the Receipt of my Letter, persuaded[50]
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 that he had another Wife. He was a
worthless Fellow tho' an excellent Workman[,] which was the
Temptation to her Friends. He got into Debt, ran away in 1727
or 28. and went to the West Indies, and died there. Keimer had
got a better House, a Shop well supply'd with Stationary[,] plenty
of new Types, a number of Hands tho' none good, and seem'd
to have a great deal of Business.
Mr. Denham took a Store in Water Street, where we open'd
our Goods. I attended the Business diligently, studied Accounts,
and grew in a little Time expert at selling. We lodg'd
and boarded together, he counsell'd me as a Father, having a
sincere Regard for me: I respected and lov'd him: and we might
have gone on together very happily: But in the Beginning of
Feby 172-6/7 when I had just pass'd my 21st 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 rather disappointed when I found my Self
recovering; regretting in some degree that I must now some time
or other have all that disagreeable Work to do over again.—I
forget what his 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 for 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 his Stationer's
Shop.—I had heard a bad Character of him in London, from his
Wife and her Friends, and was not fond of having any more to
do with him. I try'd for farther Employment as a Merchant's
Clerk; but not readily meeting with any, I clos'd again with
Keimer.—
I found in his House these Hands; Hugh Meredith a Welsh-Pensilvanian,[51]
30 Years of Age, bred to Country Work: honest,
sensible, had a great deal of solid Observation, was something
of a Reader, but given to drink: Stephen Potts, a young Country
Man 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 extream low Wages, p[er] Week, to be
rais'd a Shilling every 3 Months, as they would 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, tho' he knew neither
one nor t'other. John —— a wild Irishman brought up to no
Business, whose Service for 4 Years Keimer had purchas'd from
the Captain of a Ship. He too was to be made a Pressman.
George Webb, an Oxford Scholar, whose Time for 4 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 perceiv'd that the Intention of
engaging me at Wages so much higher than he had been us'd to
give, was to have these raw cheap Hands form'd thro' me, and
as soon as I had instructed them, then, they being all articled to
him, he should be able to do without me.—I went on however,
very chearfully; 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 18 Years of
Age, and gave me this Account of himself; that he was born in
Gloucester, educated at a Grammar School there, had been distinguish'd
among the Scholars for some apparent Superiority in
performing his Part when they exhibited Plays; belong'd to the
Witty Club there, and had written some Pieces in Prose and
Verse which were printed in the Gloucester Newspapers.—Thence
he was sent to Oxford; where he continu'd about a Year,
but not well-satisfy'd, wishing of all things to see London and
become a Player. At length receiving his Quarterly Allowance
of 15 Guineas, instead of discharging his Debts, he walk'd out of[52]
Town, hid his Gown in a Furz Bush, and footed it to London,
where having no Friend to advise him, he fell into bad Company,
soon spent his Guineas, found no means of being introduc'd
among the Players, grew necessitous, pawn'd his Cloaths
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, sign'd the Indentures, was put into the Ship and
came over; never writing a Line to acquaint his Friends what
was become of him. He was lively, witty, good-natur'd, 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 agreably; for they all respected me, the more as they
found Keimer incapable of instructing them, and that from me
they learnt something daily. We never work'd on a Saturday,
that being Keimer's Sabbath. So I had two Days for Reading.—My
Acquaintance with ingenious People in the Town, increased.
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 Oeconomist. He however kindly made no Demand of it.
Our Printing-House often wanted Sorts, and there was no
Letter Founder in America. I had seen Types cast at James's in
London, but without much Attention to the Manner: However
I now contriv'd a Mould, made use of the Letters we had, as
Puncheons, struck the Matrices in Lead, and thus supply'd in a
pretty tolerable way all Deficiencies. I also engrav'd several
Things on occasion. I made the Ink, I was Warehouse-man
and every thing, 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 improv'd
in the Business. And when Keimer paid my 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 of the Master, frequently found Fault,[53]
was captious and seem'd ready for an Out-breaking. I went on
nevertheless with a good deal of Patience, thinking that his incumber'd
Circumstances were partly the Cause. At length a
Trifle snapt 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 look'd up and saw
me, call'd out to me in a loud voice and 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, continu'd the
Quarrel, high Words pass'd on both Sides, he gave me the
Quarter's Warning we had stipulated, expressing a Wish that he
had not been oblig'd to so long a Warning: I told him his Wish
was unnecessary for I would leave him that Instant; and so taking
my Hat walk'd out of Doors; desiring Meredith whom I saw
below to take care of some Things I left, and bring them to my
Lodging.—
Meredith came accordingly in the Evening, when we talk'd
my Affair over. He had conceiv'd a great Regard for me, and
was very unwilling that I should leave the House while he remain'd
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 possess'd, that his Creditors began to
be uneasy, that he kept his Shop miserably, sold often without
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 pass'd between them, he was sure
would advance Money to set us up, if I would enter into Partner
Ship with him. My Time, says 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 agreable,
and I consented. His Father was in Town, and approv'd[54]
of it, the more as he saw I had great Influence with his Son, had
prevail'd on him to abstain long from Dramdrinking, and he
hop'd might break him of that wretched Habit entirely, when
we came to be so closely connected. I gave an Inventory to the
Father, who carry'd 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 remain'd idle a few Days,
when Keimer, on a Prospect of being employ'd 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 Jobb 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 return'd, and we went on more smoothly than for some time
before. The New Jersey Jobb was obtained. I contriv'd a Copper-Plate
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 his Head much longer above
Water.
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 improv'd by Reading than
Keimer's, I suppose it was for that Reason my Conversation
seem'd to be more valu'd. They had me to their Houses, introduc'd
me to their Friends and show'd me much Civility, while
he, tho' the Master, was a little neglected. In truth he was an
odd Fish, ignorant of common Life, fond of rudely opposing receiv'd
Opinions, slovenly to extream dirtiness, enthusiastic in[55]
some Points of Religion, and a little Knavish withal. We continu'd
there near 3 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, learnt to write after he was
of Age, carry'd the Chain for Surveyors, who taught him Surveying,
and he had now by his Industry acquir'd a good Estate;
and says he, I foresee, that you will soon work this Man out of
his Business and make a Fortune in it at Philadelphia. He had
not then the least Intimation of my Intention to set up there or
any where. These Friends were afterwards 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
influenc'd the future Events of my Life. My Parent's [sic] had
early given me religious Impressions, and brought me through
my Childhood piously in the Dissenting Way. But I was scarce
15 when, after doubting by turns of several Points as I found
them disputed in the different Books I read, I began to doubt of
Revelation it self. Some Books against Deism fell into my
Hands; they were said to be the Substance of Sermons 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 Refutations. In short I soon became
a thorough Deist. My Arguments perverted some others,
particularly Collins and Ralph: but each of them having afterwards
wrong'd 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 tho' it might be true, was not very useful.—My[56]
London Pamphlet, which had for its Motto these Lines of
Dryden
Whatever is, is right. Tho' purblind Man
Sees but a Part of the Chain, the nearest Link,
His Eyes not carrying to the equal Beam,
That poises all, above.
And 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: appear'd now not so clever a
Performance as I once thought it; and I doubted whether some
Error had not insinuated itself unperceiv'd, into my Argument,
so as to infect all that follow'd, as is common in metaphysical
Reasonings.—I grew convinc'd that Truth, Sincerity and Integrity
in Dealings between Man and Man, were of the utmost
Importance to the Felicity of Life, and I form'd written Resolutions,
(wch still remain in my Journal Book) to practice them
everwhile I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me as
such; but I entertain'd an Opinion, that tho' 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 (thro' this dangerous Time of Youth and the hazardous
Situations I was sometimes in among Strangers, remote
from the Eye and Advice of my Father) without 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 determin'd to preserve it.—
We had not been long return'd to Philadelphia, before the[57]
New Types arriv'd 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 24£ a Year tho' I have since known it let
for 70) We took in Tho' 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 enquiring
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 should otherwise have been
to assist young Beginners.
There are Croakers in every Country always boding its Ruin.
Such a one then lived in Philadelphia, a Person of Note, an elderly
Man, with a wise Look, and very grave Manner of speaking.
His Name was Samuel Mickle. This Gentleman, a Stranger
to me, stopt 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 Expence would
be lost; for Philadelphia was a sinking Place, the People already
half Bankrupts or near being so; all Appearances to the contrary,
such as hew Buildings and the Rise of Rents being to his certain
Knowledge fallacious; for they were in fact among the Things
that would soon ruin us.—And 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 Man
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 his Croaking.[58]
I should have mentioned before, that in the Autumn of the
proceeding Year I had formed most of my ingenious Acquaintance
into a Club of mutual Improvement, which we called the
Junto. We met on Friday Evenings. The Rules 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 Enquiry
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 Breintnal,[6] a Copyer of Deeds
for the Scriveners; a good-natur'd friendly middle-ag'd Man, a
great Lover of Poetry, reading all he could meet with, and writing
some that was tolerable; very ingenious in many little Nicknackeries,
and of sensible Conversation. Thomas Godfrey,[7] a
self-taught Mathematician, great in his Way, and afterwards Inventor
of what is now call'd 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 every thing said, or was forever denying or
distinguishing upon Trifles, to the Disturbance of all Conversation.
He soon left us. Nicholas Scull, a Surveyor, afterwards
Surveyor-General, who lov'd Books, and sometimes made a few
Verses. William Parsons,[8] bred a Shoemaker, but loving Reading,
had acquir'd a considerable Share of Mathematics, which he
first studied with a View to Astrology that he afterwards laught
at. He also became Surveyor General. William Maugridge, a
Joiner, a most exquisite Mechanic and a solid sensible Man.
Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb, I have Characteris'd
before. Robert Grace, a young Gentleman of some
Fortune, generous, lively and witty, a Lover of Punning and of
his Friends. And William Coleman, then a Merchant's Clerk,
about my Age, who had the coolest clearest Head, the best[59]
Heart, and the exactest Morals, of almost any Man I ever met
with. He became afterwards a Merchant of great Note, and one
of our Provincial Judges. Our Friendship continued without
Interruption to his death upwards of 40 Years. And the club
continu'd almost as long[,] and was the best School of Philosophy,
and Politics that then existed in the Province; for our Queries
which were read the Week preceding their Discussion, put
us on reading with Attention upon the several Subjects, that we
might speak more to the purpose: and here too we acquired better
Habits of Conversation, every thing being studied in our
Rules which might prevent our disgusting each other. From
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 procur'd us from the Quakers,
the Printing 40 Sheets of their History [William Sewel's],
the rest being to be done by Keimer: and upon this we work'd
exceeding hard, for the Price was low. It was a Folio, Pro
Patria Size, in Pica with Long Primer Notes. I compos'd of it a
Sheet a Day, and Meredith work'd it off at Press. It was often 11
at Night and sometimes later, before I had finish'd my Distribution
for the next days Work: For the little Jobbs sent in by our
other Friends now and then put us back. But so determin'd I
was to continue doing a Sheet a Day of the Folio, that one Night
when having impos'd my Forms, I thought my Days Work
over, one of them by accident was broken and two Pages reduc'd
to pie, I immediately distributed and compos'd 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. Andrews in Scotland) gave a contrary
Opinion; for the Industry of that Franklin, says he, is
superior to any thing I ever saw of the kind: I see him still at[60]
work when I go home from 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 chuse to engage in
Shop Business.
I mention this Industry the more particularly and the more
freely, tho' 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 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 imploy 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 [the American Weekly Mercury], printed by Bradford
was a paltry thing, wretchedly manag'd, no way entertaining;
and yet was profitable to him.—I therefore thought a good
Paper could scarcely fail of good Encouragemt. I requested
Webb not to mention it, but he told it to Keimer, who immediately,
to be beforehand with me, published Proposals for Printing
one himself, on which Webb was to be employ'd.—I resented
this, and to counteract them, as I could not yet begin our
Paper, I wrote several Pieces of Entertainment for Bradford's
Paper, under the Title of the Busy Body which Brientnal continu'd
some Months. By this means the Attention of the Publick
was fix'd on that Paper, and Keimer's Proposals which we
burlesqu'd and ridicul'd, were disregarded. He began his Paper[9]
however, and after carrying it on three Quarters of a Year, with
at most only 90 Subscribers, he offer'd it to me for a Trifle, and I
having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in hand
directly, and it prov'd in a few years extreamly profitable to me.
I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular Number,
though our Partnership still continu'd. The Reason may be,
that in fact the whole Management of the Business lay upon me.
Meredith was no Compositor, a poor Pressman, and seldom[61]
sober. My Friends lamented my Connection with him, but I
was to make the best of it.
Our first Papers made a quite different Appearance from any
before in the Province, a better Type and better printed [In MS
is found: "Insert these Remarks, in a Note."]: but some spirited
Remarks of my Writing on the Dispute then going on between
Govr Burnet and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the principal
People, occasion'd the Paper and the Manager of it to be
much talk'd of, and in a few Weeks brought them all to be our
Subscribers. Their Example was follow'd by many, and our
Number went on growing continually.—This was one of the
first good Effects of my having learnt a little to scribble. Another
was, that the leading Men, seeing a News Paper now in the
hands of one who could also handle a Pen, thought it convenient
to oblige and encourage me. Bradford still printed the Votes and
Laws and other Publick 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 strengthen'd 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 afterwards, continuing
his Patronage till his Death.[D] Mr Vernon about this time put me
in mind of the Debt I ow'd him: but did not press me. I wrote
him an ingenuous Letter of Acknowledgments, crav'd his Forbearance
a little longer which he allow'd me, and as soon as I
was able I paid the Principal with 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[62]
Merchant; who grew impatient and su'd us all. We gave Bail,
but saw that if the Money could not be rais'd in time, the Suit
must 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 any thing, came to me separately[,]
unknown to each other, and without any Application
from me, offering 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 Streets, and 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 remain'd of the Merediths
fulfilling their Part of our Agreement. Because I thought myself
under great Obligations to them for what they had done
and would do if they could. But if they finally fail'd in their
Performance, and our Partnership must be dissolv'd, 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 alone: If that is
the Case, tell me, and I will resign the whole to you and go
about my Business. No[,] says 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 my
Self at 30 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 inclin'd to go with them, and following
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 Pound he has advanc'd, pay my little
personal Debts, and give me Thirty Pounds and a new Saddle,[63]
I will relinquish the Partnership and leave the whole in your
Hands. I agreed to this Proposal. It was drawn up in Writing,
sign'd and seal'd immediately. I gave him what he demanded
and he went soon after to Carolina; from whence he sent me
next Year two long Letters, containing the best Account that
had been given of that Country, the Climate, Soil, Husbandry,
etc. for in those Matters he was very judicious. I printed them
in the Papers, and they gave grate Satisfaction to the Publick.
As soon as he was gone, I recurr'd 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 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 [July 14, 1730].—
About this Time there was a Cry among the People for more
Paper-Money, only 15,000£ being extant in the Province and
that soon to be sunk. The wealthy Inhabitants oppos'd any
Addition, being against all Paper Currency, from an Apprehension
that it would depreciate as it had done in New England to
the Prejudice of all Creditors.—We had discuss'd 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, where as I remember'd
well, that when I first walk'd about the Streets of Philadelphia,
eating my Roll, I saw most of the Houses in Walnut Street between
Second and Front Streets with Bills on their Doors, to be
let; and many likewise in Chesnut Street, and other Streets;
which made me then think the Inhabitants of the City were deserting
it, one after another.—Our Debates possess'd me so fully
of the Subject, that I wrote and printed an anonymous Pamphlet
on it, entituled, The Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency.
It was well receiv'd by the common People in general; but the
Rich Men dislik'd it; for it increas'd and strengthen'd the Clamour
for more Money; and they happening to have no Writers[64]
among them that were able to answer it, their Opposition slacken'd,
and the Point was carried by a Majority in the House. My
Friends there, who conceiv'd I had been of some Service,
thought fit to reward me, by employing me in printing the
Money, a very profitable Jobb, and a great Help to me.—This
was another Advantage gain'd by my being able to write[.] The
Utility of this Currency became by Time and Experience so evident,
as never afterwards to be much disputed, so that it grew
soon to 55,000£ and in 1739 to 80,000£ since which it arose
during War to upwards of 350,000£. Trade, Building and Inhabitants
all the while increasing. Tho' I now think there are
Limits beyond which the Quantity may be hurtful.—
I soon after obtain'd, thro' my Friend Hamilton, the Printing
of the New Castle Paper Money, another profitable Jobb, 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. He procured me also the
Printing of the Laws and Votes of that Government which continu'd
in my Hands as long as I follow'd the Business.—
I now open'd a little Stationer's Shop. I had in it Blanks of all
Sorts[,] the correctest that ever appear'd among us, being assisted
in that by my Friend Brientnal; I had also Paper, Parchment,
Chapmen's Books, etc. One Whitema[r]sh[,] a Compositor I had
known in London, an excellent Workman now came to me and
work'd with me constantly and diligently, and I took an Apprentice
the Son of Aquila 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 all
Appearances of the Contrary. I drest plainly; I was seen at no
Places of idle Diversion; I never went out a fishing or Shooting;
a Book, indeed, sometimes debauch'd me from my Work; but
that was seldom, snug, and gave no Scandal: and to show that I
was not above my Business, I sometimes brought home the Paper
I purchas'd at the Stores, thro' the Streets on a Wheelbarrow.
Thus being esteem'd an industrious thriving young Man,
and paying duly for what I bought, the Merchants who imported[65]
Stationary solicited my Custom, others propos'd supplying
me with Books, I went on swimmingly.—In the mean time
Keimer's Credit and Business declining daily, he was at last
forc'd to sell his Printing-house to satisfy his Creditors. He
went to Barbadoes, there lived some Years, in very poor Circumstances.
His Apprentice David Harry, whom I had instructed while I
work'd 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 propos'd a Partnership to him;
which he, fortunately for me, rejected with Scorn. He was very
proud, dress'd like a Gentleman, liv'd 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 follow'd Keimer to Barbadoes; taking the Printing-house
with him[.] There this Apprentice employ'd his former
Master as a Journeyman. They quarrel'd often, Harry went
continually behindhand, and at length was forc'd to sell his
Types, and return to his Country work in Pensilvania. The
Person that bought them, employ'd Keimer to use them, but in
a few years he died. There remain'd now no Competitor with
me at Philadelphia, but the old one, Bradford, who was rich and
easy, did a little Printing now and then by straggling Hands, but
was not very anxious about it. However, as he kept the Post
Office, it was imagined he had better Opportunities of obtaining
News, his Paper was thought a better Distributer of Advertisements
than mine, and therefore had many more, which was a
profitable thing to him and a Disadvantage to me. For tho' I
did indeed receive and send Papers by Post, yet the publick
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 occasion'd some Resentment on my
Part; and I thought so meanly of him for it, that when I afterwards
came into his Situation, I took care never to imitate it.
I had hitherto continu'd to board with Godfrey who lived in
Part of my House with his Wife and Children, and had one[66]
Side of the Shop for his Glazier's Business, tho' he work'd little,
being always absorb'd 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 ensu'd, the Girl being in herself very deserving. The
old Folks encourag'd me by continual Invitations to Supper,
and by leaving us together, till at length it was time to explain.
Mrs. Godfrey manag'd 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 Printinghouse, 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 Enquiry of
Bradford they had been inform'd the Printing Business was not
a profitable one, the Types would soon be worn out and more
wanted, that S. Keimer and D. Harry had fail'd 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 engag'd in Affection to retract, and
therefore that we should steal a Marriage, which would leave
them at Liberty to give or with[h]old what they pleas'd, I know
not: But I suspected the latter, resented it, and went no more.
Mrs. Godfrey brought me afterwards 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 differ'd, and they removed, leaving me the whole
House, and I resolved to take no more Inmates. But this Affair
having turn'd my Thoughts to Marriage, I look'd 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 agreable.—In the
mean time, that hard-to-be-govern'd Passion of Youth, had hurried
me frequently into Intrigues with low Women that fell in[67]
my Way, which were attended with some Expence and great
Inconvenience, besides a continual Risque to my Health by a
Distemper which of all Things I dreaded, tho' by great good
Luck I escaped it.—
A friendly Correspondence as Neighbours and old Acquaintances,
had continued between me and Mrs. 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 pity'd poor
Miss Read's unfortunate Situation, who was generally dejected,
seldom chearful, and avoided Company. I consider'd my Giddiness
and Inconstancy when in London as in a great degree the
Cause of her Unhappiness; tho' 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 were now great Objections to our Union. That Match was
indeed look'd upon as invalid, a preceding Wife being said to
be livin[g] in England; but this could not easily be prov'd, because
of the Distance[.] And tho' there was a Report of his
Death, it was not certain. The[n] tho' it should be true, he had
left many Debts which his Successor might be call'd [on] to pay.
We venture['d] however, over all these Difficulties, and I [took]
her to Wife Sept. 1. 1730.[10] None of the Inconveniencies
happen[ed] that we had apprehended, she prov'd a good and
faithful Helpmate, assisted me much by attending the Shop, we
throve together, and have ever mutually endeavour'd to make
each other happy. Thus I corrected that great Erratum as wel[l]
as I could.
About [th]is 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 referr'd
to in our Disquisitions upon the Queries, it might be convenient
to us to have them all together where we met, that upon Occasion
they might be consulted; and by thus clubbing our Books
to a common Library, we should, while we lik'd to keep them
together, have each of us the Advantage of using the Books of[68]
all the other Members, which would be nearly as beneficial as if
each owned the whole. It was lik'd and agreed to, and we fill'd
one End of the Room with such Books as we could best spare.
The Number was not so great as we expected; and tho' they had
been of great Use, yet some Inconveniencies 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 sent on foot my first Project of a public Nature,
[th]at 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, procur'd Fifty Subscribers
of 40/ each to begin with and 10/ a Year for 50 Years, the Term
our Company was to continue. We afterwards obtain'd a Charter,
the Company being increas'd to 100. This was the Mother
of all the N American Subscription Libraries now so numerous,
is become a great thing itself, and continually increasing.—These
Libraries have improv'd 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.—[11]
This library afforded me the means of improvement by constant
study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day, and
thus repair'd in some degree the loss of the learned education
my father once intended for me. Reading was the only amusement
I allow'd myself. I spent no time in taverns, games, or
frolicks of any kind; and my industry in my business continu'd
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 to contend with for business two printers, 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 from thence considered industry as[69]
a means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encourag'd
me, tho' 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
dispos'd to industry and frugality as myself. She assisted me
chearfully in my business, folding and stitching pamphlets,
tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for the paper-makers,
etc., etc. We kept no idle servants, our table was plain and simple,
our furniture of the cheapest. For instance, my breakfast
was 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 call'd 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 deserv'd a silver spoon and China bowl as well
as any of his neighbors. This was the first appearance of plate
and China in our house, which afterward, in a course of years,
as our wealth increas'd, augmented gradually to several hundred
pounds in value.
I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; and tho'
some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal decrees
of God, election, reprobation, etc., appeared to me unintelligible,
others doubtful, and I early absented myself from the public
assemblies of the sect, Sunday being my studying day, I
never was without some religious principles. I never doubted,
for instance, the existence of the Deity; that he made the world,
and govern'd 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 crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded,
either here or hereafter. These I esteem'd the essentials
of every religion; and, being to be found in all the religions we[70]
had in our country, I respected them all, tho' with different degrees
of respect, as I found them more or less mix'd with other
articles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or
confirm morality, serv'd principally to divide us, and make us
unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion
that the worst had some good effects, induc'd me to avoid all
discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion another
might have of his own religion; and as our province increas'd 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.
Tho' 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 us'd to visit me sometimes as a friend, and
admonish me to attend his administrations, and I was now and
then prevail'd 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 enforc'd, their aim seeming to be rather to make us
Presbyterians than good citizens.
At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chapter
of Philippians, "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any virtue, or
any praise, think on these things." And I imagin'd, in a sermon
on such a text, we could not miss of having some morality.
But he confin'd himself to five points only, as meant by the
apostle, viz.: 1. Keeping holy the Sabbath day. 2. Being diligent
in reading the holy Scriptures. 3. Attending duly the publick
worship. 4. Partaking of the Sacrament. 5. Paying a due respect
to God's ministers. These might be all good things; but,
as they were not the kind of good things that I expected from[71]
that text, I despaired of ever meeting with them from any other,
was disgusted, and attended his preaching no more. I had some
years before compos'd a little Liturgy, or form of prayer, for
my own private use (viz., in 1728), entitled Articles of Belief and
Acts of Religion. I return'd to the use of this, and went no more
to the public assemblies. My conduct might be blameable, but
I leave it, without attempting further to excuse it; my present
purpose being to relate facts, and not to make apologies for
them.
It was about this time I conceiv'd the bold and arduous project
of arriving at moral perfection. I wish'd to live without
committing any fault at any time; I would 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 care was employ'd 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 dependence on a steady,
uniform rectitude of conduct. For this purpose I therefore contrived
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 every other pleasure, appetite, inclination, or
passion, bodily or mental, even to our avarice and ambition. I
propos'd to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use rather more
names, with fewer ideas annex'd to each, than a few names with
more ideas; and I included under thirteen names of virtues all
that at that time occurr'd to me as necessary or desirable, and[72]
annexed to each a short precept, which fully express'd the extent
I gave to its meaning.
These names of virtues, with their precepts, were:
1. Temperance
Eat not to dullness; 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 employ'd 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 extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you
think they deserve.
10. Cleanliness
Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.[73]
11. Tranquillity
Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.
12. Chastity
Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness,
weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or
reputation.
13. Humility
Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these virtues,
I judg'd 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 thro' the thirteen; and, as the
previous acquisition of some might facilitate the acquisition of
certain others, I arrang'd them with that view, as they stand
above. Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness
and clearness of head, which is so necessary where constant
vigilance was to be kept up, and guard maintained against the
unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of perpetual
temptations. This being acquir'd and establish'd, Silence
would be more easy; and my desire being to gain knowledge at
the same time that I improv'd in virtue, and considering that in
conversation it was obtain'd rather by the use of the ears than of
the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I was getting
into of prattling, punning, and joking, 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 freeing
me from my remaining debt, and producing affluence and independence,
would make more easy the practice of Sincerity
and Justice, etc., etc. Conceiving then, that, agreeably to the[74]
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,[12] in which I allotted a page for each of
the virtues. I rul'd 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 cross'd 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.
Form of the Pages
TEMPERANCE. |
EAT NOT TO DULNESS.
DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION. |
| S. | M. | T. | W. | T. | F. | S. |
T. | | | | | | | |
S. | * | * | | * | | * | |
O. | * * | * | * | | * | * | * |
R. | | | * | | | * | |
F. | | * | | | * | | |
I. | | | * | | | | |
S. | | | | | | | |
J. | | | | | | | |
M. | | | | | | | |
C. | | | | | | | |
T. | | | | | | | |
C. | | | | | | | |
H. | | | | | | | |
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 avoid every the least offence against Temperance, leaving[75]
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 suppos'd the habit
of that virtue so much strengthen'd, and its opposite weaken'd,
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 go thro' a course compleat 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 accomplish'd
the first, proceeds to a second, so I should have, I hoped,
the encouraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress I
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 weeks' 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
Thro' 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 expultrixque
vitiorum! Unus dies, bene et ex præceptis tuis actus, peccanti
immortalitati est anteponendus.
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.—iii. 16, 17.
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 prefix'd
to my tables of examination, for daily use.[76]
O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! Increase
in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest.
Strengthen my resolutions 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 Good Supreme!
O 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 contain'd
the following scheme of employment for the twenty-four hours
of a natural day.
The Morning.
Question. What good shall I do this day? |
5 6
7 |
Rise, wash, and address Powerful Goodness! Contrive day's business,
and take the resolution of the day; prosecute the present study, and breakfast. |
|
8 9 10 11
|
Work. |
Noon. |
12 1
|
Read, or overlook my accounts, and dine. |
|
2 3 4 5
|
Work. |
Evening.
Question. What good have I done to-day? |
6 7 8 9 |
Put things in their places. Supper.
Music or diversion, or conversation.
Examination of the day.[77] |
Night. |
10 11 12 1 2 3 4 |
Sleep. |
I enter'd upon the execution of this plan for self-examination,
and continu'd it with occasional intermissions for some time.
I was surpris'd 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 transferr'd 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 mark'd my faults
with a black-lead pencil, which marks I could easily wipe out
with a wet sponge. After a while I went thro' one course only
in a year, and afterward only one in several years, till at length
I omitted them entirely, being employ'd 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, tho' 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, etc., I found extreamly difficult
to acquire. I had not been early accustomed to it, and, having
an exceeding good memory, I was not so sensible of the
inconvenience attending want of method. This article, therefore,
cost me so 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 ax of a smith, my[78]
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 turn'd, while the smith press'd the
broad face of the ax 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 ax as it was, without farther grinding. "No,"
said the smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it bright by-and-by;
as yet, it is only speckled." "Yes," says the man, "but I
think I like a speckled ax best." And I believe this may have been
the case with many, who, having, for want of some such means
as I employ'd, 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 ax was best"; for
something, that pretended to be reason, was every now and
then suggesting to me that such extream 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, tho' 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, tho' they never reach the wish'd-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 ow'd the
constant felicity of his life, down to his 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 enjoy'd ought to help his bearing them with more[79]
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 honorable 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 younger acquaintance. I hope, therefore, that
some of my descendants may follow the example and reap the
benefit.
It will be remark'd that, tho' 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 excellency
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 any thing in it that should prejudice any one,
of any sect, against it. I purposed 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; and
I should have called my book The Art of Virtue,[E] 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 only, without
showing to the naked and hungry how or where they might
get clothes or victuals, 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 did, indeed, from time
to time, put down short hints of the sentiments, reasonings, etc.,[80]
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
my 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 remain'd unfinish'd.
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 wish'd 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 were so likely to make
a poor man's fortune as those of probity and integrity.
My list of virtues contain'd at first but twelve; but a Quaker
friend having kindly informed me that I was generally thought
proud; that my pride show'd 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
convinc'd me by mentioning several instances; I determined
endeavouring 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 my 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 fix'd
opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly, etc., 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 deny'd myself the[81]
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 appear'd
or seem'd to me some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage
of this change in my manner; the conversations I engag'd
in went on more pleasantly. The modest way in which I
propos'd my opinions procur'd them a readier reception and
less contradiction; I had less mortification when I was found to
be in the wrong, and I more easily prevail'd 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 so easy, and so habitual to
me, that perhaps for these 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 points.
In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so
hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it
down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, 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 compleatly overcome it, I should probably be proud
of my humility.[13]...
Having mentioned a great and extensive project which I had
conceiv'd, 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 following little paper, accidentally preserv'd, viz.:
Observations on my reading history, in Library, May 19th,
1731.[82]
"That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolutions,
etc., are carried on and affected 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 gain'd 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 meer view of the good
of their country, whatever they may pretend; and, tho' their
actings bring real good to their country, yet men primarily
considered that their own and their country's interest was
united, and 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 govern'd 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, can not 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 occurr'd 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 every thing that might shock the[83]
professors of any religion. It is express'd 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 worshiped by adoration, prayer, and
thanksgiving.
"But that the most acceptable service of 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-mention'd
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 ingenuous,
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 interests, business, and
advancement in life; that, for distinction, we should be call'd The
Society of the Free and Easy: free, as being, by the general practice
and habit 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 confinement, 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 some enthusiasm; but my then narrow circumstances, and
the necessity I was under of sticking close to my business, occasion'd
my postponing the further prosecution of it at that time;
and my multifarious occupations, public and private, induc'd[84]
me to continue postponing, so that it has been omitted till I
have no longer strength or activity left sufficient for such an
enterprise; tho' I am still of opinion that it was a practicable
scheme, and might have been very useful, by forming a great
number of good citizens; and I was not discourag'd 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 execution of that same
plan his sole study and business.
In 1732 I first publish'd my Almanack, under the name of
Richard Saunders; it was continu'd by me about twenty-five
years, commonly call'd Poor Richard's Almanack. I endeavour'd
to make it both entertaining and useful, and it accordingly came
to be in such demand, that I reap'd considerable profit from it,
vending annually near ten thousand.[14] And observing that it
was generally read, scarce any neighborhood in the province
being without it, I consider'd 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 occurr'd
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 form'd into a connected discourse
prefix'd to the Almanack of 1757, as the harangue of a wise old
man to the people attending an auction. The bringing all these
scatter'd counsels thus into a focus enabled them to make greater
impression. The piece, being universally approved, was copied
in all the newspapers of the Continent; reprinted in Britain on a
broad side, 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[85]
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, as another means of communicating
instruction, and in that view frequently reprinted in
it extracts from the Spectator, and other moral writers; and
sometimes publish'd little pieces of my own, which had been
first compos'd 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.[15]
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
any thing of that kind, and the writers pleaded, as they generally
did, the liberty of the press, and that a newspaper was like a
stage-coach, 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 neighboring 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 their presses and disgrace[86]
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.
I had begun in 1733 to study languages; I soon made myself
so much a master of the French as to be able to read the books
with ease. I then undertook the Italian. An acquaintance, who
was also learning it, us'd 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 refus'd to play any more, unless on this
condition, that the victor in every game should have a right to
impose a task, either in parts of the grammar to be got by heart,
or in translations, etc., which tasks the vanquish'd was to perform
upon honour, before our next meeting. As we play'd
pretty equally, we thus beat one another into that language. I
afterwards with a little painstaking, acquir'd as much of the
Spanish as to read their books also.
I have already mention'd 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 surpriz'd
to find, on looking over a Latin Testament, that I understood
so much more of that language than I had imagined,
which encouraged me to apply myself again to the study of it,
and I met with more success, as those preceding languages had
greatly smooth'd my way.
From these circumstances, I have thought that there is some
inconsistency in our common mode of teaching languages. We
are told that it is proper to begin first with the Latin, and, having
acquir'd that, it will be more easy to attain those modern languages
which are deriv'd from it; and yet we do not begin with
the Greek, in order more easily to acquire the Latin. It is true
that, if you can clamber and get to the top of a staircase without
using the steps, you will more easily gain them in descending;
but certainly, if you begin with the lowest you will with
more ease ascend to the top; and I would therefore offer it to
the consideration of those who superintend the education of our[87]
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 learnt 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,
etc.; for, tho', 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.
Our club, the Junto, was found so useful, and afforded such
satisfaction to the members, that several 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 observ'd; 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, etc., and without
informing them of the connection 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 pass'd 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
thro' the several clubs the sentiments of the Junto.
The project was approv'd, and every member undertook to
form his club, but they did not all succeed. Five or six only
were compleated, which were called by different names, as the
Vine, the Union, the Band, etc. They were useful to themselves,[88]
and afforded us a good deal of amusement, information, and
instruction, besides answering, in some considerable degree, our
views of influencing the public opinion on particular occasions,
of which I shall give some instances in course of time as they
happened.
I began now to turn my thoughts a little to public affairs,[16]
beginning, however, with small matters. The city watch was
one of the first things that I conceiv'd to want regulation. It
was managed by the constables of the respective wards in turn;
the constable warned a number of housekeepers to attend him
for the night. Those who chose never to attend, paid him six
shillings a year to be excus'd, which was suppos'd to be for hiring
substitutes, but was, in reality, much 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 that business; and as a more
equitable way of supporting the charge, the levying a tax that
should be proportion'd to the property. This idea, being approv'd
by the Junto, was communicated to the other clubs, but
as arising in each of them; and though the plan was not immediately
carried into execution, yet, by preparing the minds of 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 Junto, but[89]
it was afterward publish'd) 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
much 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 oblig'd every member to keep always in good order,
and fit for use, a certain number of leather buckets, with strong
bags and baskets (for packing and transporting of goods),
which were to be brought to every fire; and we agreed to meet
once a month and 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 this went on, one new company being formed
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, tho' upward of fifty years since its
establishment, that which I first formed, called the Union Fire
Company, still subsists and flourishes, tho' the first members
are all deceas'd but myself and one, who is older by a year than
I am. The small fines that have been paid by members for absence
at the monthly meetings have been apply'd 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[90]
preacher. He was at first permitted to preach in some of
our churches; but the clergy, taking a dislike to him, soon refus'd
him their pulpits, and he was oblig'd to preach in the fields.
The multitudes of all sects and denominations that attended his
sermons were enormous, and it was 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 admir'd
and respected him, notwithstanding his common abuse of them,
by assuring them they were naturally half beasts and half devils.
It was wonderful to see the change soon made in the manners of
our inhabitants. From being thoughtless or indifferent about
religion, it seem'd as if all the world were growing religious,
so that one could not walk thro' the town in an evening without
hearing psalms sung in different families of every street.
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 coppers. Another stroke of
his oratory made me asham'd of that, and determin'd me to give
the silver; and he finish'd so admirably, that I empty'd 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 desire to give, and apply'd to a
neighbour, who stood near him, to borrow some money for the
purpose. The application was unfortunately [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 be out of thy right senses."
He [Rev. Whitefield] us'd, indeed, sometimes to pray for my[91]
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.[17]
The following instance will show something of the terms on
which we stood. Upon one of his arrivals from England at
Boston, he wrote to me that he should come soon to Philadelphia,
but knew not where he could lodge when there, as he understood
his old friend and host, Mr. Benezet was removed to Germantown.
My answer was, "You know my house, if you can make
shift with its scanty accommodations, you will be most heartily
welcome." He reply'd, that if I made that kind offer for Christ's
sake, I should not miss of a reward. And I returned, "Don't let
me be mistaken, it was not for Christ's sake, but for your sake."
One of our common acquaintance jocosely remark'd, that,
knowing it to be the custom of the saints, when they received any
favour, to shift the burden of the obligation from off their own
shoulders, and place it in heaven, I had contriv'd to fix it on
earth.
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 and
sentences so perfectly, that he might be heard and understood at
a great distance, especially as his auditories, however numerous,
observ'd the most exact silence. He preach'd one evening from
the top of the Court-house 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 fill'd 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 backwards down the street towards the
river; and I found his voice distinct till I came near Front-street,
when some noise in that street obscur'd it. Imagining then a
semicircle, of which my distance should be the radius, and that
it were fill'd with auditors, to each of whom I allow'd two square
feet, I computed that he might well be heard by more than thirty
thousand. This reconcil'd me to the newspaper accounts of his[92]
having preach'd to twenty-five thousand people in the fields,
and to the antient histories of generals haranguing whole armies,
of which I had some times doubted.
I had, on the whole, abundant reason to be satisfied with my
being established in Pennsylvania. There were, however, two
things that I regretted, there being no provision for defense,
nor for a compleat 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 Reverend Mr. 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 proprietaries, which
succeeded, declin'd 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, when collected.
Peace being concluded, and the association business therefore
at an end, I turn'd 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 judg'd 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 publick-spirited gentlemen,
avoiding as much as I could, according to my usual rule,
the presenting myself to the publick as the author of any scheme
for their benefit.[93]
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 engag'd, and
the schools opened, I think, in the same year, 1749.
In 1746, being at Boston, I met there with a Dr. Spence, who
was lately arrived from Scotland, and show'd me some electric
experiments. They were imperfectly perform'd, as he was not
very expert; but, being on a subject quite new to me, they equally
surpris'd and pleased me. Soon after my return to Philadelphia,
our library company receiv'd from Mr. P. Collinson, Fellow of
the Royal Society 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, acquir'd 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 continually full, for some time, with people who
came to see these new wonders.
To divide a little this incumbrance among my friends, I
caused a number of similar tubes to be blown at our glass-house,
with which they furnish'd themselves, so that we had at length
several performers. Among these, the principal was Mr. Kinnersley,
an ingenious neighbor, 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 rang'd in such order, and accompanied with such explanations
in such method, as that the foregoing should assist in
comprehending the following. He procur'd an elegant apparatus
for the purpose, in which all the little machines that I had
roughly made for myself were nicely form'd by instrument-makers.
His lectures were well attended, and gave great satisfaction;
and after some time he went thro' the colonies, exhibiting
them in every capital town, and pick'd up some money. In the[94]
West India Islands, indeed, it was with difficulty the experiments
could be made, from the general moisture of the air.
Oblig'd as we were to Mr. Collinson for his present of the
tube, etc., I thought it right he should be inform'd 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. Kinnersley, on the sameness of lightning with
electricity, I sent to Dr. 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 advis'd 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 profit, for by the additions
that arrived afterward they swell'd, 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 M. Dalibard 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 form'd and publish'd 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 decry his
system. Afterwards, having been assur'd that there really existed
such a person as Franklin at Philadelphia, which he had
doubted, he wrote and published a volume of Letters, chiefly
address'd to me, defending his theory, and denying the verity
of my experiments, and of the positions deduc'd from them.
I once purpos'd answering the abbé, and actually began the[95]
answer; but, on consideration that my writings contain'd a description
of experiments which any one might repeat and verify,
and if not to be verifi'd, could not be defended; or of observations
offer'd as conjectures, and not delivered dogmatically,
therefore not laying me under any obligation to defend them;
and reflecting that a dispute between two persons, writing in
different languages, might be lengthened greatly by mistranslations,
and thence misconceptions of one 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
M. Nollet, and the event gave me no cause to repent my silence;
for my friend M. 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
contain'd was by degrees universally 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 élève and immediate disciple.
What gave my book the more sudden and general celebrity,
was the success of one of its proposed experiments, made by
Messrs. Dalibard and De Lor at Marly, for drawing lightning
from the clouds. This engag'd the public attention every where.
M. de Lor, who had an apparatus for experimental philosophy,
and lectur'd 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
receiv'd 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[96]
of their wonder that my writings had been so little noticed in
England. The Society, on this, resum'd 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
afterwards 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 acquainting 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 excus'd the customary payments, which would have
amounted to twenty-five guineas; and ever since have given me
their Transactions gratis. 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.
DOGOOD PAPERS, NO. I
(From Monday March 26. to Monday April 2. 1722.)
To the Author of the New-England Courant.
Sir,
It may not be improper in the first Place to inform your
Readers, that I intend once a Fortnight to present them, by the
Help of this Paper, with a short Epistle, which I presume will
add somewhat to their Entertainment.
And since it is observed, that the Generality of People, now a
days, are unwilling either to commend or dispraise what they
read, until they are in some measure informed who or what the
Author of it is, whether he be poor or rich, old or young, a Scollar
or a Leather Apron Man, &c. and give their Opinion of the
Performance, according to the Knowledge which they have of
the Author's Circumstances, it may not be amiss to begin with[97]
a short Account of my past Life and present Condition, that the
Reader may not be at a Loss to judge whether or no my Lucubrations
are worth his reading.
At the time of my Birth, my Parents were on Ship-board in
their Way from London to N. England. My Entrance into this
troublesome World was attended with the Death of my Father,
a Misfortune, which tho' I was not then capable of knowing, I
shall never be able to forget; for as he, poor Man, stood upon
the Deck rejoycing at my Birth, a merciless Wave entred the
Ship, and in one Moment carry'd him beyond Reprieve. Thus
was the first Day which I saw, the last that was seen by my
Father; and thus was my disconsolate Mother at once made both
a Parent and a Widow.
When we arrived at Boston (which was not long after) I was
put to Nurse in a Country Place, at a small Distance from the
Town, where I went to School, and past my Infancy and Childhood
in Vanity and Idleness, until I was bound out Apprentice,
that I might no longer be a Charge to my Indigent Mother, who
was put to hard Shifts for a Living.
My Master was a Country Minister, a pious good-natur'd
young Man, & a Batchelor: He labour'd with all his Might to
instil vertuous and godly Principles into my tender Soul, well
knowing that it was the most suitable Time to make deep and
lasting Impressions on the Mind, while it was yet untainted with
Vice, free and unbiass'd. He endeavour'd that I might be instructed
in all that Knowledge and Learning which is necessary
for our Sex, and deny'd me no Accomplishment that could
possibly be attained in a Country Place, such as all Sorts of
Needle-Work, Writing, Arithmetick, &c. and observing that I
took a more than ordinary Delight in reading ingenious Books,
he gave me the free Use of his Library, which tho' it was but
small, yet it was well chose, to inform the Understanding rightly
and enable the Mind to frame great and noble Ideas.
Before I had liv'd quite two Years with this Reverend Gentleman,
my indulgent Mother departed this Life, leaving me as it
were by my self, having no Relation on Earth within my
Knowledge.[98]
I will not abuse your Patience with a tedious Recital of all the
frivolous Accidents of my Life, that happened from this Time
until I arrived to Years of Discretion, only inform you that I
liv'd a chearful Country Life, spending my leisure Time either
in some innocent Diversion with the neighbouring Females, or
in some shady Retirement, with the best of Company, Books.
Thus I past away the Time with a Mixture of Profit and Pleasure,
having no Affliction but what was imaginary and created in
my own Fancy; as nothing is more common with us Women,
than to be grieving for nothing, when we have nothing else to
grieve for.
As I would not engross too much of your Paper at once, I will
defer the Remainder of my Story until my next Letter; in the
mean time desiring your Readers to exercise their Patience, and
bear with my Humours now and then, because I shall trouble
them but seldom. I am not insensible of the Impossibility of
pleasing all, but I would not willingly displease any; and for
those who will take Offence where none is intended, they are
beneath the Notice of
Your Humble Servant,
Silinc Dogood.
As the Favour of Mrs. Dogood's Correspondence is acknowledged
by the Publisher of this Paper, lest any of her Letters should
miscarry, he desires they may for the future be deliver'd at his
Printing-House, or at the Blue Ball in Union-Street, and no
Questions shall be ask'd of the Bearer.
DOGOOD PAPERS, NO. IV
(From Monday May 7. to Monday May 14. 1722.)
An sum etiam nunc vel Græcè loqui vel Latinè docendus?
Cicero.
To the Author of the New-England Courant.
Sir,
Discoursing the other Day at Dinner with my Reverend
Boarder, formerly mention'd, (whom for Distinction sake we[99]
will call by the Name of Clericus,) concerning the Education of
Children, I ask'd his Advice about my young Son William,
whether or no I had best bestow upon him Academical Learning,
or (as our Phrase is) bring him up at our College: He perswaded
me to do it by all Means, using many weighty Arguments with
me, and answering all the Objections that I could form against
it; telling me withal, that he did not doubt but that the Lad
would take his Learning very well, and not idle away his Time
as too many there now-a-days do. These words of Clericus gave
me a Curiosity to inquire a little more strictly into the present
Circumstances of that famous Seminary of Learning; but the
Information which he gave me, was neither pleasant, nor such
as I expected.
As soon as Dinner was over, I took a solitary Walk into my
Orchard, still ruminating on Clericus's Discourse with much
Consideration, until I came to my usual Place of Retirement
under the Great Apple-Tree; where having seated my self, and
carelessly laid my Head on a verdant Bank, I fell by Degrees into
a soft and undisturbed Slumber. My waking Thoughts remained
with me in my Sleep, and before I awak'd again, I
dreamt the following Dream.
I fancy'd I was travelling over pleasant and delightful Fields
and Meadows, and thro' many small Country Towns and
Villages; and as I pass'd along, all Places resounded with the
Fame of the Temple of Learning: Every Peasant, who had
wherewithal, was preparing to send one of his Children at least
to this famous Place; and in this Case most of them consulted
their own Purses instead of their Childrens Capacities: So that
I observed, a great many, yea, the most part of those who were
travelling thither, were little better than Dunces and Blockheads.
Alas! Alas!
At length I entred upon a spacious Plain, in the Midst of
which was erected a large and stately Edifice: It was to this that
a great Company of Youths from all Parts of the Country were
going; so stepping in among the Crowd, I passed on with them,
and presently arrived at the Gate.
The Passage was Kept by two sturdy Porters named Riches[100]
and Poverty, and the latter obstinately refused to give Entrance
to any who had not first gain'd the Favour of the former; so that
I observed, many who came even to the very Gate, were obliged
to travel back again as ignorant as they came, for want of this
necessary Qualification. However, as a Spectator I gain'd Admittance,
and with the rest entred directly into the Temple.
In the Middle of the great Hall stood a stately and magnificent
Throne, which was ascended to by two high and difficult Steps.
On the Top of it sat Learning in awful State; she was
apparelled wholly in Black, and surrounded almost on every
Side with innumerable Volumes in all Languages. She seem'd
very busily employ'd in writing something on half a Sheet of
Paper, and upon Enquiry, I understood she was preparing a
Paper, call'd, The New-England Courant. On her Right Hand
sat English, with a pleasant smiling Countenance, and handsomely
attir'd; and on her left were seated several Antique Figures
with their Faces vail'd. I was considerably puzzl'd to guess
who they were, until one informed me, (who stood beside me,)
that those Figures on her left Hand were Latin, Greek, Hebrew,
&c. and that they were very much reserv'd, and seldom or never
unvail'd their Faces here, and then to few or none, tho' most of
those who have in this Place acquir'd so much Learning as to
distinguish them from English, pretended to an intimate Acquaintance
with them. I then enquir'd of him, what could be
the Reason why they continued vail'd, in this Place especially:
He pointed to the Foot of the Throne, where I saw Idleness,
attended with Ignorance, and these (he informed me) were they,
who first vail'd them, and still kept them so.
Now I observed, that the whole Tribe who entred into the
Temple with me, began to climb the Throne; but the Work;
proving troublesome and difficult to most of them, they withdrew
their Hands from the Plow, and contented themselves to
sit at the Foot, with Madam Idleness and her Maid Ignorance,
until those who were assisted by Diligence and a docible Temper,
had well nigh got up the first Step: But the Time drawing
nigh in which they could no way avoid ascending, they were
fain to crave the Assistance of those who had got up before[101]
them, and who, for the Reward perhaps of a Pint of Milk, or a
Piece of Plumb-Cake, lent the Lubbers a helping Hand, and sat
them in the Eye of the World, upon a Level with themselves.
The other Step being in the same Manner ascended, and the
usual Ceremonies at an End, every Beetle-Scull seem'd well
satisfy'd with his own Portion of Learning, tho' perhaps he was
e'en just as ignorant as ever. And now the Time of their Departure
being come, they march'd out of Doors to make Room
for another Company, who waited for Entrance: And I, having
seen all that was to be seen, quitted the Hall likewise, and went
to make my Observations on those who were just gone out
before me.
Some I perceiv'd took to Merchandizing, others to Travelling,
some to one Thing, some to another, and some to Nothing;
and many of them from henceforth, for want of Patrimony,
liv'd as poor as church Mice, being unable to dig, and asham'd to
beg, and to live by their Wits it was impossible. But the most
Part of the Crowd went along a large beaten Path, which led to
a Temple at the further End of the Plain, call'd, The Temple of
Theology. The Business of those who were employ'd in this
Temple being laborious and painful, I wonder'd exceedingly to
see so many go towards it; but while I was pondering this Matter
in my Mind, I spy'd Pecunia behind a Curtain, beckoning to
them with her Hand, which Sight immediately satisfy'd me for
whose Sake it was, that a great Part of them (I will not say all)
travel'd that Road. In this Temple I saw nothing worth mentioning,
except the ambitious and fraudulent Contrivances of
Plagius, who (notwithstanding he had been severely reprehended
for such Practices before) was diligently transcribing
some eloquent Paragraphs out of Tillotson's Works, &c. to
embellish his own.
Now I bethought my self in my Sleep, that it was Time to be
at Home, and as I fancy'd I was travelling back thither, I reflected
in my Mind on the extream Folly of those Parents, who,
blind to their Childrens Dulness, and insensible of the Solidity
of their Skulls, because they think their Purses can afford it, will
needs send them to the Temple of Learning, where, for want[102]
of a suitable Genius, they learn little more than how to carry
themselves handsomely, and enter a Room genteely, (which
might as well be acquir'd at a Dancing-School,) and from
whence they return, after Abundance of Trouble and Charge,
as great Blockheads as ever, only more proud and self-conceited.
While I was in the midst of these unpleasant Reflections,
Clericus (who with a Book in his Hand was walking under the
Trees) accidentally awak'd me; to him I related my Dream with
all its Particulars, and he, without much Study, presently interpreted
it, assuring me, That it was a lively Representation of
Harvard College, Etcetera.
I remain, Sir,
Your Humble Servant,
Silence Dogood.
DOGOOD PAPERS, NO. V
(From Monday May 21. to Monday May 28. 1722.)
Mulier Muliere magis congruet.—Ter.
To the Author of the New-England Courant.
Sir,
I shall here present your Readers with a Letter from one, who
informs me that I have begun at the wrong End of my Business,
and that I ought to begin at Home, and censure the Vices and
Follies of my own Sex, before I venture to meddle with your's:
Nevertheless, I am resolved to dedicate this Speculation to the
Fair Tribe, and endeavour to show, that Mr. Ephraim charges
Women with being particularly guilty of Pride, Idleness, &c.
wrongfully, inasmuch as the Men have not only as great a Share
in those Vices as the Women, but are likewise in a great Measure
the Cause of that which the Women are guilty of. I think it will
be best to produce my Antagonist, before I encounter him.
To Mrs. Dogood.
Madam,
My Design in troubling you with this Letter is, to desire you
would begin with your own Sex first: Let the first Volley of[103]
your Resentments be directed against Female Vice; let Female
Idleness, Ignorance and Folly, (which are Vices more peculiar
to your Sex than to our's,) be the Subject of your Satyrs, but
more especially Female Pride, which I think is intollerable.
Here is a large Field that wants Cultivation, and which I believe
you are able (if willing) to improve with Advantage; and when
you have once reformed the Women, you will find it a much easier
Task to reform the Men, because Women are the prime Causes
of a great many Male Enormities. This is all at present from
Your Friendly Wellwisher,
Ephraim Censorious.
After Thanks to my Correspondent for his Kindness in cutting
out Work for me, I must assure him, that I find it a very
difficult Matter to reprove Women separate from the Men; for
what Vice is there in which the Men have not as great a Share as
the Women? and in some have they not a far greater, as in
Drunkenness, Swearing, &c.? And if they have, then it follows,
that when a Vice is to be reproved, Men, who are most culpable,
deserve the most Reprehension, and certainly therefore, ought
to have it. But we will wave this point at present, and proceed
to a particular Consideration of what my Correspondent calls
Female Vice.
As for Idleness, if I should Quære, Where are the greatest
Number of its Votaries to be found, with us or the Men? it
might I believe be easily and truly answer'd, With the latter.
For, notwithstanding the Men are commonly complaining how
hard they are forc'd to labour, only to maintain their Wives in
Pomp and Idleness, yet if you go among the Women, you will
learn, that they have always more Work upon their Hands than
they are able to do, and that a Woman's Work is never done, &c.
But however, Suppose we should grant for once, that we are
generally more idle than the Men, (without making any Allowance
for the Weakness of the Sex,) I desire to know whose Fault
it is? Are not the Men to blame for their Folly in maintaining
us in Idleness? Who is there that can be handsomely supported
in Affluence, Ease and Pleasure by another, that will chuse[104]
rather to earn his Bread by the Sweat of his own Brows? And
if a Man will be so fond and so foolish, as to labour hard himself
for a Livelihood, and suffer his Wife in the mean Time to sit in
Ease and Idleness, let him not blame her if she does so, for it
is in a great Measure his own Fault.
And now for the Ignorance and Folly which he reproaches us
with, let us see (if we are Fools and Ignoramus's) whose is the
Fault, the Men's or our's. An ingenious Writer, having this
Subject in Hand, has the following Words, wherein he lays the
Fault wholly on the Men, for not allowing Women the Advantages
of Education.
"I have (says he) often thought of it as one of the most
barbarous Customs in the World, considering us as a civiliz'd
and Christian Country, that we deny the Advantages of Learning
to Women. We reproach the Sex every Day with Folly and
Impertinence, while I am confident, had they the Advantages of
Education equal to us, they would be guilty of less than our
selves. One would wonder indeed how it should happen that
Women are conversible at all, since they are only beholding to
natural Parts for all their Knowledge. Their Youth is spent to
teach them to stitch and sow, or make Baubles. They are
taught to read indeed, and perhaps to write their Names, or so;
and that is the Heigth of a Womans Education. And I would
but ask any who slight the Sex for their Understanding, What
is a Man (a Gentleman, I mean) good for that is taught no more?
If Knowledge and Understanding had been useless Additions
to the Sex, God Almighty would never have given them
Capacities, for he made nothing Needless. What has the
Woman done to forfeit the Priviledge of being taught? Does
she plague us with her Pride and Impertinence? Why did we
not let her learn, that she might have had more Wit? Shall we
upraid Women with Folly, when 'tis only the Error of this inhumane
Custom that hindred them being made wiser."
So much for Female Ignorance and Folly; and now let us a
little consider the Pride which my Correspondent thinks is
intolerable. By this Expression of his, one would think he is
some dejected Swain, tyranniz'd over by some cruel haughty[105]
Nymph, who (perhaps he thinks) has no more Reason to be
proud than himself. Alas-a-day! What shall we say in this
Case! Why truly, if Women are proud, it is certainly owing to
the Men still; for if they will be such Simpletons as to humble
themselves at their Feet, and fill their credulous Ears with extravagant
Praises of their Wit, Beauty, and other Accomplishments
(perhaps where there are none too,) and when Women
are by this Means perswaded that they are Something more than
humane, what Wonder is it, if they carry themselves haughtily,
and live extravagantly. Notwithstanding, I believe there are
more Instances of extravagant Pride to be found among Men
than among Women, and this Fault is certainly more hainous
in the former than in the latter.
Upon the whole, I conclude, that it will be impossible to lash
any Vice, of which the Men, are not equally guilty with the
Women, and consequently deserve an equal (if not a greater),
Share in the Censure. However, I exhort both to amend, where
both are culpable, otherwise they may expect to be severely
handled by
Sir,
Your Humble Servant,
Silence Dogood.
N. B. Mrs. Dogood has lately left her Seat in the Country, and
come to Boston, where she intends to tarry for the Summer Season,
in order to compleat her Observations of the present reigning Vices
of the Town.
DOGOOD PAPERS, NO. VII
(From Monday June 18. to Monday June 25. 1722.)
To the Author of the New-England Courant.
Sir,
It has been the Complaint of many Ingenious Foreigners,[106]
who have travell'd amongst us, That good Poetry is not to be
expected in New-England. I am apt to Fancy, the Reason is,
not because our Countrymen are altogether void of a Poetical
Genius, nor yet because we have not those Advantages of Education
which other Countries have, but purely because we do
not afford that Praise and Encouragement which is merited,
when any thing extraordinary of this Kind is produc'd among
us: Upon which Consideration I have determined, when I meet
with a Good Piece of New-England Poetry, to give it a suitable
Encomium, and thereby endeavour to discover to the World
some of its Beautys, in order to encourage the Author to go on,
and bless the World with more, and more Excellent Productions.
There has lately appear'd among us a most Excellent Piece of
Poetry, entituled, An Elegy upon the much Lamented Death of
Mrs. Mehitebell Kitel, Wife of Mr. John Kitel of Salem, Etc.
It may justly be said in its Praise, without Flattery to the Author,
that it is the most Extraordinary Piece that was ever wrote in
New-England. The Language is so soft and Easy, the Expression
so moving and pathetick, but above all, the Verse and
Numbers so Charming and Natural, that it is almost beyond
Comparison.
The Muse disdains[F]
Those Links and Chains,
Measures and Rules of Vulgar Strains,
And o'er the Laws of Harmony a Sovereign Queen she reigns.
I find no English Author, Ancient or Modern, whose Elegies
may be compar'd with this, in respect to the Elegance of Stile,
or Smoothness of Rhime; and for the affecting Part, I will leave
your Readers to judge, if ever they read any Lines, that would
sooner make them draw their Breath and Sigh, if not shed Tears,
than these following.
Come let us mourn, for we have lost a
Wife, a Daughter, and a Sister,
Who has lately taken Flight, and
greatly we have mist her.
[107]
In another place,
Some little Time before she yielded up her Breath,
She said, I ne'er shall hear one Sermon more on Earth.
She kist her Husband some little Time before she expir'd,
Then lean'd her Head the Pillow on, just out of Breath and tir'd.
But the Threefold Appellation in the first Line
—a Wife, a Daughter, and a Sister,
must not pass unobserved. That Line in the celebrated Watts,
Gunston, the Just, the Generous, and the Young,
is nothing Comparable to it. The latter only mentions three
Qualifications of one Person who was deceased, which therefore
could raise Grief and Compassion but for One. Whereas the
former, (our most excellent Poet) gives his Reader a Sort of an
Idea of the Death of Three Persons, viz.
—a Wife, a Daughter, and a Sister,
which is Three Times as great a Loss as the Death of One, and
consequently must raise Three Times as much Grief and Compassion
in the Reader.
I should be very much straitened for Room, if I should
attempt to discover even half the Excellencies of this Elegy
which are obvious to me. Yet I cannot omit one Observation,
which is, that the Author has (to his Honour) invented a new
Species of Poetry, which wants a Name, and was never before
known. His muse scorns to be confin'd to the old Measures and
Limits, or to observe the dull Rules of Criticks;
Nor Rapin gives her Rules to fly, nor Purcell Notes to Sing.
Watts.
Now 'tis Pity that such an Excellent Piece should not be
dignify'd with a particular Name; and seeing it cannot justly be
called, either Epic, Sapphic, Lyric, or Pindaric, nor any other
Name yet invented, I presume it may, (in Honour and Remembrance
of the Dead) be called the Kitelic. Thus much in the
Praise of Kitelic Poetry.[108]
It is certain, that those Elegies which are of our own
Growth, (and our Soil seldom produces any other sort of
Poetry) are by far the greatest part, wretchedly Dull and
Ridiculous. Now since it is imagin'd by many, that our Poets
are honest, well-meaning Fellows, who do their best, and that if
they had but some Instructions how to govern Fancy with Judgment,
they would make indifferent good Elegies; I shall here
subjoin a Receipt for that purpose, which was left me as a Legacy,
(among other valuable Rarities) by my Reverend Husband.
It is as follows,
A Receipt to make a New-England
Funeral Elegy.
For the Title of your Elegy. Of these you may have enough
ready made to your Hands, but if you should chuse to make it your
self, you must be sure not to omit the words Ætatis Suæ, which will
Beautify it exceedingly.
For the Subject of your Elegy. Take one of your Neighbours
who has lately departed this Life; it is no great matter at what Age
the Party dy'd, but it will be best if he went away suddenly, being
Kill'd, Drown'd, or Frose to Death.
Having chose the Person, take all his Virtues, Excellencies, &c.
and if he have not enough, you may borrow some to make up a
sufficient Quantity: To these add his last Words, dying Expressions,
&c. if they are to be had; mix all these together, and be sure
you strain them well. Then season all with a Handful or two of
Melancholly Expressions, such as, Dreadful, Deadly, cruel cold
Death, unhappy Fate, weeping Eyes, &c. Have mixed all these
Ingredients well, put them into the empty Scull of some young
Harvard; (but in Case you have ne'er a One at Hand, you may use
your own,) there let them Ferment for the Space of a Fortnight,
and by that Time they will be incorporated into a Body, which take
out, and having prepared a sufficient Quantity of double Rhimes,
such as Power, Flower; Quiver, Shiver; Grieve us, Leave us;
tell you, excel you; Expeditions, Physicians; Fatigue him, Intrigue
him; &c. you must spread all upon Paper, and if you can
procure a Scrap of Latin to put at the End, it will garnish it[109]
mightily, then having affixed your Name at the Bottom, with a
Mœstus Composuit, you will have an Excellent Elegy.
N. B. This Receipt will serve when a Female is the Subject of
your Elegy, provided you borrow a greater Quantity of Virtues,
Excellencies, &c.
Sir,
Your Servant,
Silence Dogood.
P.S. I shall make no other Answer to Hypercarpus's Criticism
on my last Letter than this, Mater me genuit, peperit mox
filia matrem.
DOGOOD PAPERS, NO. XII
(From Monday September 3. to Monday September 10. 1722.)
Quod est in corde sobrii, est in ore ebrii.
To the Author of the New-England Courant.
Sir,
It is no unprofitable tho' unpleasant Pursuit, diligently to
inspect and consider the Manners & Conversation of Men, who,
insensible of the greatest Enjoyments of humane Life, abandon
themselves to Vice from a false Notion of Pleasure and good
Fellowship. A true and natural Representation of any Enormity,
is often the best Argument against it and Means of removing it,
when the most severe Reprehensions alone, are found ineffectual.
I would in this Letter improve the little Observation I have
made on the Vice of Drunkeness, the better to reclaim the good
Fellows who usually pay the Devotions of the Evening to
Bacchus.
I doubt not but moderate Drinking has been improv'd for the
Diffusion of Knowledge among the ingenious Part of Mankind,
who want the Talent of a ready Utterance, in order to discover
the Conceptions of their Minds in an entertaining and intelligible
Manner. 'Tis true, drinking does not improve our Faculties, but[110]
it enables us to use them; and therefore I conclude, that much
Study and Experience, and a little Liquor, are of absolute
Necessity for some Tempers, in order to make them accomplish'd
Orators. Dic. Ponder discovers an excellent Judgment
when he is inspir'd with a Glass or two of Claret, but he passes
for a Fool among those of small Observation, who never saw
him the better for Drink. And here it will not be improper to
observe, That the moderate Use of Liquor, and a well plac'd
and well regulated Anger, often produce this same Effect; and
some who cannot ordinarily talk but in broken Sentences and
false Grammar, do in the Heat of Passion express themselves
with as much Eloquence as Warmth. Hence it is that my own
Sex are generally the most eloquent, because the most passionate.
"It has been said in the Praise of some Men," (says an
ingenious Author,) "that they could talk whole Hours together
upon any thing; but it must be owned to the Honour of the
other Sex, that there are many among them who can talk whole
Hours together upon Nothing. I have known a Woman
branch out into a long extempore Dissertation on the Edging of
a Petticoat, and chide her Servant for breaking a China Cup, in
all the Figures of Rhetorick."
But after all it must be consider'd, that no Pleasure can give
Satisfaction or prove advantageous to a reasonable Mind, which
is not attended with the Restraints of Reason. Enjoyment is not
to be found by Excess in any sensual Gratification; but on the
contrary, the immoderate Cravings of the Voluptuary, are always
succeeded with Loathing and a palled Apetite. What
Pleasure can the Drunkard have in the Reflection, that, while
in his Cups, he retain'd only the Shape of a Man, and acted the
Part of a Beast; or that from reasonable Discourse a few Minutes
before, he descended to Impertinence and Nonsense?
I cannot pretend to account for the different Effects of Liquor
on Persons of different Dispositions, who are guilty of Excess
in the Use of it. 'Tis strange to see Men of a regular Conversation
become rakish and profane when intoxicated with Drink,
and yet more surprizing to observe, that some who appear to
be the most profligate Wretches when sober, become mighty[111]
religious in their Cups, and will then, and at no other Time address
their Maker, but when they are destitute of Reason, and
actually affronting him. Some shrink in the Wetting, and others
swell to such an unusual Bulk in their Imaginations, that they
can in an Instant understand all Arts and Sciences, by the liberal
Education of a little vivyfying Punch, or a sufficient Quantity
of other exhilerating Liquor.
And as the Effects of Liquor are various, so are the Characters
given to its Devourers. It argues some Shame in the Drunkards
themselves, in that they have invented numberless Words and
Phrases to cover their Folly, whose proper Significations are
harmless, or have no Signification at all. They are seldom
known to be drunk, tho they are very often boozey, cogey, tipsey,
fox'd, merry, mellow, fuddl'd, groatable, Confoundedly cut, See
two Moons, are Among the Philistines, In a very good Humour,
See the Sun, or, The Sun has shone upon them; they Clip the King's
English, are Almost froze, Feavourish, In their Altitudes, Pretty
well enter'd, &c.[18] In short, every Day produces some new
Word or Phrase which might be added to the Vocabulary of
the Tiplers: But I have chose to mention these few, because if
at any Time a Man of Sobriety and Temperance happens to cut
himself confoundedly, or is almoss froze, or feavourish, or accidentally
sees the Sun, &c. he may escape the Imputation of being
drunk, when his Misfortune comes to be related.
I am Sir,
Your Humble Servant,
Silence Dogood.
EDITORIAL PREFACE
TO THE NEW ENGLAND COURANT
(From Monday, February 4, to Monday, February 11, 1723)
The late Publisher of this Paper,[19] finding so many Inconveniences
would arise by his carrying the Manuscripts and
publick News to be supervis'd by the Secretary, as to render his
carrying it on unprofitable, has intirely dropt the Undertaking.[112]
The present Publisher having receiv'd the following Piece, desires
the Readers to accept of it as a Preface to what they may
hereafter meet with in this Paper.
Non ego mordaci distrinxi Carmine quenquam
Nulla vonenato Litera onista Joco est.
Long has the Press groaned in bringing forth an hateful, but
numerous Brood of Party Pamphlets, malicious Scribbles, and
Billinsgate Ribaldry. The Rancour and bitterness it has unhappily
infused into Men's minds, and to what a Degree it has
sowred and leaven'd the Tempers of Persons formerly esteemed
some of the most sweet and affable, is too well known here, to
need any further Proof or Representation of the Matter.
No generous and impartial Person then can blame the present
Undertaking, which is designed purely for the Diversion and
Merriment of the Reader. Pieces of Pleasancy and Mirth have
a secret Charm in them to allay the Heats and Tumours of our
Spirits, and to make a Man forget his restless Resentments.
They have a strange Power to tune the harsh Disorders of the
Soul, and reduce us to a serene and placid State of Mind.
The main Design of this Weekly Paper will be to entertain
the Town with the most comical and diverting Incidents of
Humane Life, which in so large a Place as Boston will not fail
of a universal Exemplification: Nor shall we be wanting to fill
up these Papers with a grateful Interspersion of more serious
Morals which may be drawn from the most ludicrous and odd
Parts of Life.
As for the Author, that is the next Question. But tho' we
profess ourselves ready to oblige the ingenious and courteous
Reader with most Sorts of Intelligence, yet here we beg a Reserve.
Nor will it be of any Manner of Advantage either to
them or to the Writers, that their names should be published;
and therefore in this Matter we desire the Favour of you to
suffer us to hold our Tongues: Which tho' at this Time of Day
it may sound like a very uncommon Request, yet it proceeds
from the very Hearts of your Humble Servants.[113]
By this Time the Reader perceives that more than one are
engaged in the present Undertaking. Yet is there one Person,
an Inhabitant of this Town of Boston, whom we honour as a
Doctor in the Chair, or a perpetual Dictator.
The Society had design'd to present the Publick with his
Effigies, but that the Limner, to whom he was presented for a
Draught of his Countenance, descryed (and this he is ready to
offer upon Oath) Nineteen Features in his Face, more than
ever he beheld in any Humane Visage before; which so raised
the Price of his Picture, that our Master himself forbid the Extravagance
of coming up to it. And then besides, the Limner
objected a Schism in his face, which splits it from his Forehead
in a strait Line down to his chin, in such sort, that Mr. Painter
protests it is a double Face, and he'll have Four Pounds for the
Pourtraiture. However, tho' this double Face has spoilt us of a
pretty Picture, yet we all rejoiced to see old Janus in our Company.
There is no Man in Boston better qualified than old Janus for
a Couranteer, or if you please, an Observator, being a Man of
such remarkable Opticks, as to look two ways at once.
As for his Morals, he is a chearly Christian, as the Country
Phrase expresses it. A Man of good Temper, courteous Deportment,
sound Judgment; a mortal Hater of Nonsense, Foppery,
Formality, and endless Ceremony.
As for his club, they aim at no greater Happiness or Honour,
than the Publick be made to know, that it is the utmost of their
Ambition to attend upon and do all imaginable good Offices to
good old Janus the Couranteer, who is and always will be the
Readers humble Servant.
P.S. Gentle Readers, we design never to let a Paper pass
without a Latin Motto if we can possibly pick one up, which
carries a Charm in it to the Vulgar, and the learned admire the
pleasure of Construing. We should have obliged the World
with a Greek scrap or two, but the Printer has no Types, and
therefore we intreat the candid Reader not to impute the defect
to our Ignorance, for our Doctor can say all the Greek Letters
by heart.[114]
A DISSERTATION ON LIBERTY
AND NECESSITY,
PLEASURE AND PAIN
To Mr. J. R.
[London, 1725]
Sir,
I have here, according to your Request, given you my present
Thoughts of the general State of Things in the Universe. Such as
they are, you have them, and are welcome to 'em; and if they
yield you any Pleasure or Satisfaction, I shall think my Trouble
sufficiently compensated. I know my Scheme will be liable to
many Objections from a less discerning Reader than your self;
but it is not design'd for those who can't understand it. I need
not give you any Caution to distinguish the hypothetical Parts
of the Argument from the conclusive: You will easily perceive
what I design for Demonstration, and what for Probability only.
The whole I leave entirely to you, and shall value my self more
or less on this account, in proportion to your Esteem and Approbation.
Sect. I. Of Liberty and Necessity
I. There is said to be a First Mover, who is called God,
Maker of the Universe.
II. He is said to be all-wise, all-good, all powerful.
These two Propositions being allow'd and asserted by People
of almost every Sect and Opinion; I have here suppos'd them
granted, and laid them down as the Foundation of my Argument;
What follows then, being a Chain of Consequences truly
drawn from them, will stand or fall as they are true or false.
III. If He is all-good, whatsoever He doth must be good.
IV. If He is all-wise, whatsoever He doth must be wise.
The Truth of these Propositions, with relation to the two
first, I think may be justly call'd evident; since, either that infinite
Goodness will act what is ill, or infinite Wisdom what is,
not wise, is too glaring a Contradiction not to be perceiv'd by[115]
any Man of common Sense, and deny'd as soon as understood.
V. If He is all-powerful, there can be nothing either existing or
acting in the Universe against or without his Consent, and what
He consents to must be good, because He is good, therefore Evil
doth not exist.
Unde Malum? has been long a Question, and many of the
Learned have perplex'd themselves and Readers to little Purpose
in Answer to it. That there are both Things and Actions to
which we give the Name of Evil, is not here deny'd, as Pain,
Sickness, Want, Theft, Murder, &c. but that these and the like
are not in reality Evils, Ills, or Defects in the Order of the
Universe, is demonstrated in the next Section, as well as by
this and the following Proposition. Indeed, to suppose any
Thing to exist or be done, contrary to the Will of the Almighty,
is to suppose him not almighty; or that Something (the Cause
of Evil) is more mighty than the Almighty; an Inconsistence
that I think no One will defend: And to deny any Thing or
Action, which he consents to the existence of, to be good, is
entirely to destroy his two Attributes of Wisdom and Goodness.
There is nothing done in the Universe, say the Philosophers,
but what God either does, or permits to be done. This, as He is
Almighty, is certainly true: But what need of this Distinction
between doing and permitting? Why, first they take it for granted
that many Things in the Universe exist in such a Manner as is
not for the best, and that many Actions are done which ought
not to be done, or would be better undone; these Things or
Actions they cannot ascribe to God as His, because they have
already attributed to Him infinite Wisdom and Goodness; Here
then is the Use of the Word Permit; He permits them to be done,
say they. But we will reason thus: If God permits an Action to
be done, it is because he wants either Power or Inclination to
hinder it; in saying he wants Power, we deny Him to be almighty;
and if we say He wants Inclination or Will, it must be,
either because He is not Good, or the Action is not evil, (for
all Evil is contrary to the Essence of Infinite Goodness.) The
former is inconsistent with his before-given Attribute of Goodness,
therefore the latter must be true.[116]
It will be said, perhaps, that God permits evil Actions to be
done, for wise Ends and Purposes. But this Objection destroys
itself; for whatever an infinitely good God hath wise Ends in
suffering to be, must be good, is thereby made good, and cannot
be otherwise.
VI. If a Creature is made by God, it must depend upon God, and
receive all its Power from Him, with which Power the Creature
can do nothing contrary to the Will of God, because God is Almighty;
what is not contrary to His Will, must be agreeable to it;
what is agreeable to it, must be good, because He is Good; therefore
a Creature can do nothing but what is good.
This Proposition is much to the same Purpose with the
former, but more particular; and its Conclusion is as just and
evident. Tho' a Creature may do many Actions which by his
Fellow Creatures will be nam'd Evil, and which will naturally
and necessarily cause or bring upon the Doer, certain Pains
(which will likewise be call'd Punishments;) yet this Proposition
proves, that he cannot act what will be in itself really Ill, or displeasing
to God. And that the painful Consequences of his evil
Actions (so call'd) are not, as indeed they ought not to be, Punishments
or Unhappinesses, will be shewn hereafter.
Nevertheless, the late learned Author of The Religion of
Nature, (which I send you herewith) has given us a Rule or
Scheme, whereby to discover which of our Actions ought to be
esteem'd and denominated good, and which evil; It is in short
this, "Every Action which is done according to Truth, is good;
and every Action contrary to Truth, is evil: To act according
to Truth is to use and esteem every Thing as what it is, &c.
Thus if A steals a Horse from B, and rides away upon him, he
uses him not as what he is in Truth, viz. the Property of another,
but as his own, which is contrary to Truth, and therefore evil."
But, as this Gentleman himself says, (Sect. I. Prop. VI.) "In
order to judge rightly what any Thing is, it must be consider'd,
not only what it is in one Respect, but also what it may be in
any other Respect; and the whole Description of the Thing
ought to be taken in: So in this Case it ought to be consider'd,
that A is naturally a covetous Being, feeling an Uneasiness in the[117]
want of B's Horse, which produces an Inclination for stealing
him, stronger than his Fear of Punishment for so doing. This is
Truth likewise, and A acts according to it when he steals the
Horse. Besides, if it is prov'd to be a Truth, that A has not Power
over his own Actions, it will be indisputable that he acts according
to Truth, and impossible he should do otherwise.
I would not be understood by this to encourage or defend
Theft; 'tis only for the sake of the Argument, and will certainly
have no ill Effect. The Order and Course of Things will not be
affected by Reasoning of this Kind; and 'tis as just and necessary,
and as much according to Truth, for B to dislike and punish the
Theft of his Horse, as it is for A to steal him.
VII. If the Creature is thus limited in his Actions, being able to
do only such Things as God would have him to do, and not being
able to refuse doing what God would have done; then he can have
no such Thing as Liberty, Free-will or Power to do or refrain an
Action.
By Liberty is sometimes understood the Absence of Opposition;
and in this Sense, indeed, all our Actions may be said to be
the Effects of our Liberty: But it is a Liberty of the same Nature
with the Fall of a heavy Body to the Ground; it has Liberty to
fall, that is, it meets with nothing to hinder its Fall, but at the
same Time it is necessitated to fall, and has no Power or Liberty
to remain suspended.
But let us take the Argument in another View, and suppose
ourselves to be, in the common sense of the Word, Free Agents.
As Man is a Part of this great Machine, the Universe, his regular
Acting is requisite to the regular moving of the whole. Among
the many Things which lie before him to be done, he may, as
he is at Liberty and his Choice influenc'd by nothing, (for so it
must be, or he is not at Liberty) chuse any one, and refuse the
rest. Now there is every Moment something best to be done,
which is alone then good, and with respect to which, every Thing
else is at that Time evil. In order to know which is best to be
done, and which not, it is requisite that we should have at one
View all the intricate Consequences of every Action with respect
to the general Order and Scheme of the Universe, both present[118]
and future; but they are innumerable and incomprehensible by
any Thing but Omniscience. As we cannot know these, we have
but as one Chance to ten thousand, to hit on the right Action;
we should then be perpetually blundering about in the Dark,
and putting the Scheme in Disorder; for every wrong Action of
a Part, is a Defect or Blemish in the Order of the Whole. Is it
not necessary then, that our Actions should be over-rul'd and
govern'd by an all-wise Providence?—How exact and regular
is every Thing in the natural World! How wisely in every Part
contriv'd! We cannot here find the least Defect! Those who
have study'd the mere animal and vegetable Creation, demonstrate
that nothing can be more harmonious and beautiful!
All the heavenly Bodies, the Stars and Planets, are regulated with
the utmost Wisdom! And can we suppose less Care to be taken
in the Order of the moral than in the natural System? It is as
if an ingenious Artificer, having fram'd a curious Machine or
Clock, and put its many intricate Wheels and Powers in such a
Dependance on one another, that the whole might move in
the most exact Order and Regularity, had nevertheless plac'd
in it several other Wheels endu'd with an independent Self-Motion,
but ignorant of the general Interest of the Clock; and
these would every now and then be moving wrong, disordering
the true Movement, and making continual Work for the Mender:
which might better be prevented, by depriving them of that
Power of Self-Motion, and placing them in a Dependance on the
regular Part of the Clock.
VIII. If there is no such Thing as Free-Will in Creatures, there
can be neither Merit nor Demerit in Creatures.
IX. And therefore every Creature must be equally esteem'd by the
Creator.
These Propositions appear to be the necessary Consequences
of the former. And certainly no Reason can be given, why the
Creator should prefer in his Esteem one Part of His Works to
another, if with equal Wisdom and Goodness he design'd and
created them all, since all Ill or Defect, as contrary to his Nature,
is excluded by his Power. We will sum up the Argument thus,
When the Creator first design'd the Universe, either it was His[119]
Will and Intention that all Things should exist and be in the
Manner they are at this Time; or it was his Will they should be
otherwise, i.e. in a different Manner: To say it was His Will
Things should be otherwise than they are, is to say Somewhat
hath contradicted His Will, and broken His Measures, which is
impossible because inconsistent with his Power; therefore we
must allow that all Things exist now in a Manner agreeable to
His Will, and in consequence of that are all equally Good, and
therefore equally esteem'd by Him.
I proceed now to shew, that as all the Works of the Creator
are equally esteem'd by Him, so they are, as in Justice they ought
to be, equally us'd.
Sect. II. Of Pleasure and Pain.
I. When a Creature is form'd and endu'd with Life, 'tis suppos'd
to receive a Capacity of the Sensation of Uneasiness or Pain.
It is this distinguishes Life and Consciousness from unactive
unconscious Matter. To know or be sensible of Suffering or
being acted upon is to live; and whatsoever is not so, among
created Things, is properly and truly dead.
All Pain and Uneasiness proceeds at first from and is caus'd
by Somewhat without and distinct from the Mind itself. The
Soul must first be acted upon before it can re-act. In the Beginning
of Infancy it is as if it were not; it is not conscious of
its own Existence, till it has receiv'd the first Sensation of Pain;
then, and not before, it begins to feel itself, is rous'd, and put
into Action; then it discovers its Powers and Faculties, and
exerts them to expel the Uneasiness. Thus is the Machine set
on work; this is Life. We are first mov'd by Pain, and the whole
succeeding Course of our Lives is but one continu'd Series of
Action with a View to be freed from it. As fast as we have excluded
one Uneasiness another appears, otherwise the Motion
would cease. If a continual Weight is not apply'd, the Clock
will stop. And as soon as the Avenues of Uneasiness to the
Soul are choak'd up or cut off, we are dead, we think and act
no more.[120]
II. This Uneasiness, whenever felt, produces Desire to be freed
from it, great in exact proportion to the Uneasiness.
Thus is Uneasiness the first Spring and Cause of all Action;
for till we are uneasy in Rest, we can have no Desire to move,
and without Desire of moving there can be no voluntary Motion.
The Experience of every Man who has observ'd his own
Actions will evince the Truth of this; and I think nothing need
be said to prove that the Desire will be equal to the Uneasiness,
for the very Thing implies as much: It is not Uneasiness unless
we desire to be freed from it, nor a great Uneasiness unless the
consequent Desire is great.
I might here observe, how necessary a Thing in the Order
and Design of the Universe this Pain or Uneasiness is, and how
beautiful in its Place! Let us but suppose it just now banish'd
the World entirely, and consider the Consequence of it: All the
Animal Creation would immediately stand stock still, exactly in
the Posture they were in the Moment Uneasiness departed; not
a Limb, not a Finger would henceforth move; we should all be
reduc'd to the Condition of Statues, dull and unactive: Here I
should continue to sit motionless with the Pen in my Hand
thus———and neither leave my Seat nor write one Letter
more. This may appear odd at first View, but a little Consideration
will make it evident; for 'tis impossible to assign any other
Cause for the voluntary Motion of an Animal than its uneasiness
in Rest. What a different Appearance then would the Face of
Nature make, without it! How necessary is it! And how unlikely
that the Inhabitants of the World ever were, or that the
Creator ever design'd they should be, exempt from it!
I would likewise observe here, that the VIIIth Proposition
in the preceding Section, viz. That there is neither Merit nor
Demerit, &c. is here again demonstrated, as infallibly, tho' in
another manner: For since Freedom from Uneasiness is the End
of all our Actions, how is it possible for us to do any Thing
disinterested?—How can any Action be meritorious of Praise or
Dispraise, Reward or Punishment, when the natural Principle
of Self-Love is the only and the irresistible Motive to it?
III. This Desire is always fulfill'd or satisfy'd,[121]
In the Design or End of it, tho' not in the Manner: The first
is requisite, the latter not. To exemplify this, let us make a
Supposition; A Person is confin'd in a House which appears to
be in imminent Danger of Falling, this, as soon as perceiv'd,
creates a violent Uneasiness, and that instantly produces an equal
strong Desire, the End of which is freedom from the Uneasiness,
and the Manner or Way propos'd to gain this End, is to get out
of the House. Now if he is convinc'd by any Means, that he is
mistaken, and the House is not likely to fall, he is immediately
freed from his Uneasiness, and the End of his Desire is attain'd
as well as if it had been in the Manner desir'd, viz. leaving the
House.
All our different Desires and Passions proceed from and are
reducible to this one Point, Uneasiness, tho' the Means we propose
to ourselves for expelling of it are infinite. One proposes
Fame, another Wealth, a third Power, &c. as the Means to gain
this End; but tho' these are never attain'd, if the Uneasiness be
remov'd by some other Means, the Desire is satisfy'd. Now
during the Course of Life we are ourselves continually removing
successive Uneasinesses as they arise, and the last we suffer is
remov'd by the sweet Sleep of Death.
IV. The fulfilling or Satisfaction of this Desire, produces the
Sensation of Pleasure, great or small in exact proportion to the
Desire.
Pleasure is that Satisfaction which arises in the Mind upon,
and is caus'd by, the accomplishment of our Desires, and by no
other Means at all; and those Desires being above shewn to be
caus'd by our Pains or Uneasinesses, it follows that Pleasure is
wholly caus'd by Pain, and by no other Thing at all.
V. Therefore the Sensation of Pleasure is equal, or in exact proportion
to the Sensation of Pain.
As the Desire of being freed from Uneasiness is equal to the
Uneasiness, and the Pleasure of satisfying that Desire equal to
the Desire, the Pleasure thereby produc'd must necessarily be
equal to the Uneasiness or Pain which produces it: of three
Lines, A, B, and C, if A is equal to B, and B to C, C must be
equal to A. And as our Uneasinesses are always remov'd by[122]
some Means or other, it follows that Pleasure and Pain are in
their Nature inseparable: So many Degrees as one Scale of the
Ballance descends, so many exactly the other ascends; and one
cannot rise or fall without the Fall or Rise of the other: 'Tis
impossible to taste of Pleasure, without feeling its preceding
proportionate Pain; or to be sensible of Pain, without having
its necessary Consequent Pleasure: The highest Pleasure is only
Consciousness of Freedom from the deepest Pain, and Pain is
not Pain to us unless we ourselves are sensible of it. They go
Hand in Hand; they cannot be divided.
You have a View of the whole Argument in a few familiar
Examples: The Pain of Abstinence from Food, as it is greater
or less, produces a greater or less Desire of Eating, the Accomplishment
of this Desire produces a greater or less Pleasure proportionate
to it. The Pain of Confinement causes the Desire of
Liberty, which accomplish'd, yields a Pleasure equal to that
Pain of Confinement. The Pain of Labour and Fatigue causes
the Pleasure of Rest, equal to that Pain. The Pain of Absence
from Friends, produces the Pleasure of Meeting in exact proportion.
&c.
This is the fixt Nature of Pleasure and Pain, and will always
be found to be so by those who examine it.
One of the most common Arguments for the future Existence
of the Soul, is taken from the generally suppos'd Inequality of
Pain and Pleasure in the present; and this, notwithstanding the
Difficulty by outward Appearances to make a Judgment of
another's Happiness, has been look'd upon as almost unanswerable:
but since Pain naturally and infallibly produces a Pleasure
in proportion to it, every individual Creature must, in any State
of Life, have an equal Quantity of each, so that there is not, on
that Account, any Occasion for a future Adjustment.
Thus are all the Works of the Creator equally us'd by him;
And no Condition of Life or Being is in itself better or preferable
to another: The Monarch is not more happy than the
Slave, nor the Beggar more miserable than Crœsus. Suppose
A, B, and C, three distinct Beings; A and B, animate, capable of
Pleasure and Pain, C an inanimate Piece of Matter, insensible[123]
of either. A receives ten Degrees of Pain, which are necessarily
succeeded by ten Degrees of Pleasure: B receives fifteen of
Pain, and the consequent equal Number of Pleasure: C all the
while lies unconcern'd, and as he has not suffer'd the former, has
no right to the latter. What can be more equal and just than
this? When the Accounts come to be adjusted, A has no Reason
to complain that his Portion of Pleasure was five Degrees less
than that of B, for his Portion of Pain was five Degrees less
likewise: Nor has B any Reason to boast that his Pleasure was
five Degrees greater than that of A, for his Pain was proportionate:
They are then both on the same Foot with C, that is,
they are neither Gainers nor Losers.
It will possibly be objected here, that even common Experience
shews us, there is not in Fact this Equality: "Some we
see hearty, brisk and chearful perpetually, while others are
constantly burden'd with a heavy Load of Maladies and Misfortunes,
remaining for Years perhaps in Poverty, Disgrace, or
Pain, and die at last without any Appearance of Recompence."
Now tho' 'tis not necessary, when a Proposition is demonstrated
to be a general Truth, to shew in what manner it agrees
with the particular Circumstances of Persons, and indeed ought
not to be requir'd; yet, as this is a common Objection, some
Notice may be taken of it: And here let it be observ'd, that we
cannot be proper Judges of the good or bad Fortune of Others;
we are apt to imagine, that what would give us a great Uneasiness
or a great Satisfaction, has the same Effect upon others: we
think, for Instance, those unhappy, who must depend upon
Charity for a mean Subsistence, who go in Rags, fare hardly,
and are despis'd and scorn'd by all; not considering that Custom
renders all these Things easy, familiar, and even pleasant. When
we see Riches, Grandeur and a chearful Countenance, we easily
imagine Happiness accompanies them, when oftentimes 'tis
quite otherwise: Nor is a constantly sorrowful Look, attended
with continual Complaints, an infallible Indication of Unhappiness.
In short, we can judge by nothing but Appearances, and
they are very apt to deceive us. Some put on a gay chearful
Outside, and appear to the World perfectly at Ease, tho' even[124]
then, some inward Sting, some secret Pain imbitters all their
Joys, and makes the Ballance even: Others appear continually
dejected and full of Sorrow; but even Grief itself is sometimes
pleasant, and Tears are not always without their Sweetness:
Besides, Some take a Satisfaction in being thought unhappy,
(as others take a Pride in being thought humble,) these will
paint their Misfortunes to others in the strongest Colours, and
leave no Means unus'd to make you think them throughly
miserable; so great a Pleasure it is to them to be pitied. Others
retain the Form and outside Shew of Sorrow, long after the
Thing itself, with its Cause, is remov'd from the Mind; it is a
Habit they have acquir'd and cannot leave. These, with many
others that might be given, are Reasons why we cannot make
a true Estimate of the Equality of the Happiness and Unhappiness
of others; and unless we could, Matter of Fact cannot be
opposed to this Hypothesis. Indeed, we are sometimes apt to
think, that the Uneasinesses we ourselves have had, outweigh
our Pleasures; but the Reason is this, the Mind takes no Account
of the latter, they flip away un-remark'd, when the former leave
more lasting Impressions on the Memory. But suppose we pass
the greatest part of Life in Pain and Sorrow, suppose we die
by Torments and think no more, 'tis no Diminution to the Truth
of what is here advanc'd; for the Pain, tho' exquisite, is not so
to the last Moments of Life, the Senses are soon benumm'd, and
render'd incapable of transmitting it so sharply to the Soul as
at first; She perceives it cannot hold long, and 'tis an exquisite
Pleasure to behold the immediate Approaches of Rest. This
makes an Equivalent tho' Annihilation should follow: For the
Quantity of Pleasure and Pain is not to be measur'd by its
Duration, any more than the Quantity of Matter by its Extension;
and as one cubic Inch may be made to contain, by Condensation,
as much Matter as would fill ten thousand cubic
Feet, being more expanded, so one single Moment of Pleasure
may outweigh and compensate an Age of Pain.
It was owing to their Ignorance of the Nature of Pleasure
and Pain that the Antient Heathens believ'd the idle Fable of
their Elizium, that State of uninterrupted Ease and Happiness![125]
The Thing is intirely impossible in Nature! Are not the Pleasures
of the Spring made such by the Disagreeableness of the
Winter? Is not the Pleasure of fair Weather owing to the Unpleasantness
of foul? Certainly. Were it then always Spring,
were the Fields always green and nourishing, and the Weather
constantly serene and fair, the Pleasure would pall and die upon
our Hands; it would cease to be Pleasure to us, when it is not
usher'd in by Uneasiness. Could the Philosopher visit, in
reality, every Star and Planet with as much Ease and Swiftness
as he can now visit their Ideas, and pass from one to another
of them in the Imagination; it would be a Pleasure I grant;
but it would be only in proportion to the Desire of accomplishing
it, and that would be no greater than the Uneasiness suffer'd
in the Want of it. The Accomplishment of a long and
difficult Journey yields a great Pleasure; but if we could take a
Trip to the Moon and back again, as frequently and with as much
Ease as we can go and come from Market, the Satisfaction would
be just the same.
The Immateriality of the Soul has been frequently made use
of as an Argument for its Immortality; but let us consider, that
tho' it should be allow'd to be immaterial, and consequently its
Parts incapable of Separation or Destruction by any Thing material,
yet by Experience we find, that it is not incapable of Cessation
of Thought, which is its Action. When the Body is but
a little indispos'd it has an evident Effect upon the Mind; and a
right Disposition of the Organs is requisite to a right Manner of
Thinking. In a sound Sleep sometimes, or in a Swoon, we cease
to think at all; tho' the Soul is not therefore then annihilated,
but exists all the while tho' it does not act; and may not this
probably be the Case after Death? All our Ideas are first admitted
by the Senses and imprinted on the Brain, increasing
in Number by Observation and Experience; there they become
the Subjects of the Soul's Action. The Soul is a mere Power or
Faculty of contemplating on, and comparing those Ideas when it
has them; hence springs Reason: But as it can think on nothing
but Ideas, it must have them before it can think at all. Therefore
as it may exist before it has receiv'd any Ideas, it may exist before[126]
it thinks. To remember a Thing, is to have the Idea of it
still plainly imprinted on the Brain, which the Soul can turn to
and contemplate on Occasion. To forget a Thing, is to have
the Idea of it defac'd and destroy'd by some Accident, or the
crouding in and imprinting of great variety of other Ideas upon
it, so that the Soul cannot find out its Traces and distinguish
it. When we have thus lost the Idea of any one Thing, we can
think no more, or cease to think, on that Thing; and as we can
lose the Idea of one Thing, so we may of ten, twenty, a hundred,
&c. and even of all Things, because they are not in their Nature
permanent; and often during Life we see that some Men, (by
an Accident or Distemper affecting the Brain,) lose the greatest
Part of their Ideas, and remember very little of their past Actions
and Circumstances. Now upon Death, and the Destruction
of the Body, the Ideas contain'd in the Brain, (which are
alone the Subjects of the Soul's Action) being then likewise
necessarily destroy'd, the Soul, tho' incapable of Destruction
itself, must then necessarily cease to think or act, having nothing
left to think or act upon. It is reduc'd to its first unconscious
State before it receiv'd any Ideas. And to cease to think is but
little different from ceasing to be.
Nevertheless, 'tis not impossible that this same Faculty of
contemplating Ideas may be hereafter united to a new Body,
and receive a new Set of Ideas; but that will no way concern us
who are now living; for the Identity will be lost, it is no longer
that same Self but a new Being.
I shall here subjoin a short Recapitulation of the Whole, that
it may with all its Parts be comprehended at one View.
1. It is suppos'd that God the Maker and Governour of the
Universe, is infinitely wise, good, and powerful.
2. In consequence of His Infinite Wisdom and Goodness, it is
asserted, that whatever He doth must be infinitely wise and good;
3. Unless He be interrupted, and His Measures broken by
some other Being, which is impossible because He is Almighty.
4. In consequence of His infinite Power, it is asserted, that
nothing can exist or be done in the Universe which is not agreeable
to His Will, and therefore good.[127]
5. Evil is hereby excluded, with all Merit and Demerit; and
likewise all preference in the Esteem of God, of one Part of the
Creation to another. This is the Summary of the first Part.
Now our common Notions of Justice will tell us, that if all
created Things are equally esteem'd by the Creator, they ought
to be equally us'd by Him; and that they are therefore equally
us'd, we might embrace for Truth upon the Credit, and as the
true Consequence of the foregoing Argument. Nevertheless we
proceed to confirm it, by shewing how they are equally us'd,
and that in the following Manner.
1. A Creature when endu'd with Life or Consciousness, is made
capable of Uneasiness or Pain.
2. This Pain produces Desire to be freed from it, in exact
proportion to itself.
3. The Accomplishment of this Desire produces an equal
Pleasure.
4. Pleasure is consequently equal to Pain.
From these Propositions it is observ'd,
1. That every Creature hath as much Pleasure as Pain.
2. That Life is not preferable to Insensibility; for Pleasure and
Pain destroy one another: That Being which has ten Degrees of
Pain subtracted from ten of Pleasure, has nothing remaining, and
is upon an equality with that Being which is insensible of both.
3. As the first Part proves that all Things must be equally us'd
by the Creator because equally esteem'd; so this second Part demonstrates
that they are equally esteem'd because equally us'd.
4. Since every Action is the Effect of Self-Uneasiness, the
Distinction of Virtue and Vice is excluded; and Prop. VIII. in
Sect. I. again demonstrated.
5. No State of Life can be happier than the present, because
Pleasure and Pain are inseparable.
Thus both Parts of this Argument agree with and confirm
one another, and the Demonstration is reciprocal.
I am sensible that the Doctrine here advanc'd, if it were to
be publish'd, would meet with but an indifferent Reception.
Mankind naturally and generally love to be flatter'd: Whatever
sooths our Pride, and tends to exalt our Species above the rest[128]
of the Creation, we are pleas'd with and easily believe, when
ungrateful Truths shall be with the utmost Indignation rejected.
"What! bring ourselves down to an Equality with the Beasts
of the Field! with the meanest part of the Creation! 'Tis insufferable!"
But, (to use a Piece of common Sense) our Geese
are but Geese tho' we may think 'em Swans, and Truth will be
Truth tho' it sometimes prove mortifying and distasteful.
RULES FOR A CLUB
ESTABLISHED FOR MUTUAL IMPROVEMENT[20]
[1728]
Previous Question, To Be Answered At Every Meeting
Have you read over these queries this morning, in order to
consider what you might have to offer the Junto touching any
one of them? viz.
1. Have you met with any thing in the author you last read,
remarkable, or suitable to be communicated to the Junto? particularly
in history, morality, poetry, physic, travels, mechanic
arts, or other parts of knowledge.
2. What new story have you lately heard agreeable for telling
in conversation?
3. Hath any citizen in your knowledge failed in his business
lately, and what have you heard of the cause?
4. Have you lately heard of any citizen's thriving well, and
by what means?
5. Have you lately heard how any present rich man, here or
elsewhere, got his estate?
6. Do you know of a fellow citizen, who has lately done a
worthy action, deserving praise and imitation; or who has lately
committed an error, proper for us to be warned against and
avoid?
7. What unhappy effects of intemperance have you lately
observed or heard; of imprudence, of passion, or of any other
vice or folly?
8. What happy effects of temperance, of prudence, of moderation,
or of any other virtue?[129]
9. Have you or any of your acquaintance been lately sick or
wounded? If so, what remedies were used, and what were their
effects?
10. Whom do you know that are shortly going voyages or
journeys, if one should have occasion to send by them?
11. Do you think of any thing at present, in which the Junto
may be serviceable to mankind, to their country, to their friends,
or to themselves?
12. Hath any deserving stranger arrived in town since last
meeting, that you have heard of? And what have you heard
or observed of his character or merits? And whether, think you,
it lies in the power of the Junto to oblige him, or encourage him
as he deserves?
13. Do you know of any deserving young beginner lately
set up, whom it lies in the power of the Junto any way to encourage?
14. Have you lately observed any defect in the laws of your
country, of which it would be proper to move the legislature for
an amendment? Or do you know of any beneficial law that is
wanting?
15. Have you lately observed any encroachment on the just
liberties of the people?
16. Hath any body attacked your reputation lately? And
what can the Junto do towards securing it?
17. Is there any man whose friendship you want, and which
the Junto, or any of them, can procure for you?
18. Have you lately heard any member's character attacked,
and how have you defended it?
19. Hath any man injured you, from whom it is in the power
of the Junto to procure redress?
20. In what manner can the Junto, or any of them, assist
you in any of your honourable designs?
21. Have you any weighty affair on hand, in which you
think the advice of the Junto may be of service?
22. What benefits have you lately received from any man
not present?
23. Is there any difficulty in matters of opinion, of justice,[130]
and injustice, which you would gladly have discussed at this
time?
24. Do you see any thing amiss in the present customs or
proceedings of the Junto, which might be amended?
Any person to be qualified [as a member of the Junto], to
stand up, and lay his hand upon his breast, and be asked these
questions, viz.
1. Have you any particular disrespect to any present members?
Answer. I have not.
2. Do you sincerely declare, that you love mankind in general,
of what profession or religion soever? Answer. I do.
3. Do you think any person ought to be harmed in his body,
name, or goods, for mere speculative opinions, or his external
way of worship? Answer. No.
4. Do you love truth for truth's sake, and will you endeavour
impartially to find and receive it yourself, and communicate it
to others? Answer. Yes.
ARTICLES OF BELIEF AND ACTS OF RELIGION
In Two Parts[21]
Part I
Philada, Nov. 20: 1728
FIRST PRINCIPLES
I believe there is one supreme, most perfect Being, Author
and Father of the Gods themselves. For I believe that Man is
not the most perfect Being but one, rather that as there are
many Degrees of Beings his Inferiors, so there are many Degrees
of Beings superior to him.[131]
Also, when I stretch my Imagination thro' and beyond our
System of Planets, beyond the visible fix'd Stars themselves,
into that Space that is every Way infinite, and conceive it fill'd
with Suns like ours, each with a Chorus of Worlds forever moving
round him, then this little Ball on which we move, seems,
even in my narrow Imagination, to be almost Nothing, and myself
less than nothing, and of no sort of Consequence.
When I think thus, I imagine it great Vanity in me to suppose,
that the Supremely Perfect does in the least regard such an inconsiderable
Nothing as Man. More especially, since it is impossible
for me to have any positive clear idea of that which is
infinite and incomprehensible, I cannot conceive otherwise than
that he the Infinite Father expects or requires no Worship or
Praise from us, but that he is even infinitely above it.
But, since there is in all Men something like a natural principle,
which inclines them to DEVOTION, or the Worship of some
unseen Power;
And since Men are endued with Reason superior to all other
Animals, that we are in our World acquainted with;
Therefore I think it seems required of me, and my Duty as
a Man, to pay Divine Regards to Something.
I conceive then, that the Infinite has created many beings
or Gods, vastly superior to Man, who can better conceive his
Perfections than we, and return him a more rational and glorious
Praise.
As, among Men, the Praise of the Ignorant or of Children is
not regarded by the ingenious Painter or Architect, who is
rather honour'd and pleas'd with the approbation of Wise Men
& Artists.
It may be that these created Gods are immortal; or it may be
that after many Ages, they are changed, and others Supply their
Places.
Howbeit, I conceive that each of these is exceeding wise and
good, and very powerful; and that Each has made for himself
one glorious Sun, attended with a beautiful and admirable System
of Planets.
It is that particular Wise and good God, who is the author[132]
and owner of our System, that I propose for the object of my
praise and adoration.
For I conceive that he has in himself some of those Passions
he has planted in us, and that, since he has given us Reason
whereby we are capable of observing his Wisdom in the Creation,
he is not above caring for us, being pleas'd with our Praise,
and offended when we slight Him, or neglect his Glory.
I conceive for many Reasons, that he is a good Being; and as
I should be happy to have so wise, good, and powerful a Being
my Friend, let me consider in what manner I shall make myself
most acceptable to him.
Next to the Praise resulting from and due to his Wisdom, I
believe he is pleas'd and delights in the Happiness of those he
has created; and since without Virtue Man can have no Happiness
in this World, I firmly believe he delights to see me Virtuous,
because he is pleased when he sees Me Happy.
And since he has created many Things, which seem purely
design'd for the Delight of Man, I believe he is not offended,
when he sees his Children solace themselves in any manner of
pleasant exercises and Innocent Delights; and I think no Pleasure
innocent, that is to Man hurtful.
I love him therefore for his Goodness, and I adore him for his
Wisdom.
Let me then not fail to praise my God continually, for it is
his Due, and it is all I can return for his many Favours and great
Goodness to me; and let me resolve to be virtuous, that I may
be happy, that I may please Him, who is delighted to see me
happy. Amen!
ADORATION
Prel. Being mindful that before I address the Deity, my
soul ought to be calm and serene, free from Passion and Perturbation,
or otherwise elevated with Rational Joy and Pleasure,
I ought to use a Countenance that expresses a filial Respect,
mixed wth a kind of Smiling, that Signifies inward Joy, and Satisfaction,
and Admiration.
O wise God, my good Father![133]
Thou beholdest the sincerity of my Heart and of my Devotion;
Grant me a Continuance of thy Favour!
1. O Creator, O Father! I believe that thou art Good, and
that thou art pleas'd with the pleasure of thy children.—Praised
be thy name for Ever!
2. By thy Power hast thou made the glorious Sun, with his
attending Worlds; from the energy of thy mighty Will, they
first received [their prodigious] motion, and by thy Wisdom
hast thou prescribed the wondrous Laws, by which they move.—Praised
be thy name for Ever!
3. By thy Wisdom hast thou formed all Things. Thou hast
created Man, bestowing Life and Reason, and placed him in
Dignity superior to thy other earthly Creatures.—Praised be
thy name for Ever!
4. Thy Wisdom, thy Power, and thy Goodness are everywhere
clearly seen; in the air and in the water, in the Heaven
and on the Earth; Thou providest for the various winged Fowl,
and the innumerable Inhabitants of the Water; thou givest Cold
and Heat, Rain and Sunshine, in their Season, & to the Fruits
of the Earth Increase.—Praised be thy name for Ever!
5. Thou abhorrest in thy Creatures Treachery and Deceit,
Malice, Revenge, [Intemperance,] and every other hurtful Vice;
but Thou art a Lover of Justice and Sincerity, of Friendship
and Benevolence, and every Virtue. Thou art my Friend, my
Father, and my Benefactor.—Praised be thy name, O God, for
Ever! Amen!
[After this, it will not be improper to read part of some such
Book as Ray's Wisdom of God in the Creation, or Blackmore on
the Creation, or the Archbishop of Cambray's Demonstration of
the Being of a God, &c., or else spend some Minutes in a serious
Silence, contemplating on those Subjects.]
Then sing
MILTON'S HYMN TO THE CREATOR
"These are thy Glorious Works, Parent of Good!
Almighty, Thine this Universal Frame,
Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then!
[134]
Speak ye who best can tell, Ye Sons of Light,
Angels, for ye behold him, and with Songs
And Choral Symphonies, Day without Night,
Circle his Throne rejoicing you in Heav'n,
On Earth join all ye creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without End.
"Fairest of Stars, last in the Train of Night,
If rather Thou belongst not to the Dawn,
Sure Pledge of Day! thou crown'st the smiling Morn
With thy bright Circlet, Praise him in thy Sphere
While Day arises, that sweet Hour of Prime.
Thou Sun, of this great World, both Eye and Soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; Sound his Praise
In thy eternal Course; both when thou climb'st,
And when high Noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st,
With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wandering Fires, that move
In mystic Dance not without Song; resound
His Praise, that out of Darkness called up Light.
Air! and ye Elements! the eldest Birth
Of Nature's womb, that in Quaternion run
Perpetual Circle, multiform, and mix
And nourish all things, let your ceaseless Change
Vary to our great Maker still new Praise.
Ye mists and Exhalations, that now rise
From Hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,
Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with Gold,
In honour to the World's Great Author rise;
Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolor'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty Earth wth falling show'rs,
Rising or falling still advance his Praise.
His Praise, ye Winds! that from 4 quarters blow,
Breathe soft or Loud; and wave your Tops, ye Pines!
With every Plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow
Melodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise.
Join voices all ye living souls, ye Birds!
That singing, up to Heaven's high gate ascend,
Bear on your wings, & in your Note his Praise;
Ye that in Waters glide! and ye that walk
[135]
The Earth! and stately tread or lowly creep;
Witness if I be silent, Ev'n or Morn,
To Hill, or Valley, Fountain, or Fresh Shade,
Made Vocal by my Song, and taught his Praise."
[Here follows the Reading of some Book, or part of a Book,
Discoursing on and exciting to Moral Virtue.]
PETITION
Inasmuch as by Reason of our Ignorance We cannot be certain
that many Things, which we often hear mentioned in the
Petitions of Men to the Deity, would prove real Goods, if they
were in our Possession, and as I have reason to hope and believe
that the Goodness of my Heavenly Father will not withold
from me a suitable share of Temporal Blessings, if by a Virtuous
and holy Life I conciliate his Favour and Kindness, Therefore
I presume not to ask such things, but rather humbly and
with a Sincere Heart, express my earnest desires that he would
graciously assist my Continual Endeavours and Resolutions of
eschewing Vice and embracing Virtue; which Kind of Supplications
will at least be thus far beneficial, as they remind me in
a solemn manner of my Extensive duty.
That I may be preserved from Atheism & Infidelity, Impiety,
and Profaneness, and, in my Addresses to Thee, carefully avoid
Irreverence and ostentation, Formality and odious Hypocrisy,—Help
me, O Father!
That I may be loyal to my Prince, and faithful to my country,
careful for its good, valiant in its defence, and obedient to its
Laws, abhorring Treason as much as Tyranny,—Help me, O
Father!
That I may to those above me be dutiful, humble, and submissive;
avoiding Pride, Disrespect, and Contumacy,—Help
me, O Father!
That I may to those below me be gracious, Condescending,
and Forgiving, using Clemency, protecting innocent Distress,
avoiding Cruelty, Harshness, and Oppression, Insolence, and
unreasonable Severity,—Help me, O Father![136]
That I may refrain from Censure, Calumny and Detraction;
that I may avoid and abhor Deceit and Envy, Fraud, Flattery,
and Hatred, Malice, Lying, and Ingratitude,—Help me, O
Father!
That I may be sincere in Friendship, faithful in trust, and
Impartial in Judgment, watchful against Pride, and against
Anger (that momentary Madness),—Help me, O Father!
That I may be just in all my Dealings, temperate in my Pleasures,
full of Candour and Ingenuity, Humanity and Benevolence,—Help
me, O Father!
That I may be grateful to my Benefactors, and generous to
my Friends, exercising Charity and Liberality to the Poor, and
Pity to the Miserable,—Help me, O Father!
That I may avoid Avarice and Ambition, Jealousie, and Intemperance,
Falsehood, Luxury, and Lasciviousness,—Help me,
O Father!
That I may possess Integrity and Evenness of Mind, Resolution
in Difficulties, and Fortitude under Affliction; that I may
be punctual in performing my promises, Peaceable and prudent
in my Behaviour,—Help me, O Father!
That I may have Tenderness for the Weak, and reverent
Respect for the Ancient; that I may be Kind to my Neighbours,
good-natured to my Companions, and hospitable to Strangers,—Help
me, O Father!
That I may be averse to Talebearing, Backbiting, Detraction,
Slander, & Craft, and overreaching, abhor Extortion, Perjury,
and every Kind of wickedness,—Help me, O Father!
That I may be honest and open-hearted, gentle, merciful,
and good, cheerful in spirit, rejoicing in the Good of others,—Help
me, O Father!
That I may have a constant Regard to Honour and Probity,
that I may possess a perfect innocence and a good Conscience,
and at length become truly Virtuous and Magnanimous,—Help
me, good God; help me, O Father![G][137]
And, forasmuch as ingratitude is one of the most odious of
vices, let me not be unmindful gratefully to acknowledge the
favours I receive from Heaven.
THANKS
For peace and liberty, for food and raiment, for corn, and
wine, and milk, and every kind of healthful nourishment,—Good
God, I thank thee!
For the common benefits of air and light; for useful fire and
delicious water,—Good God, I thank thee!
For knowledge, and literature, and every useful art, for my
friends and their prosperity, and for the fewness of my enemies,—Good
God, I thank thee!
For all thy innumerable benefits; for life, and reason, and the
use of speech; for health, and joy, and every pleasant hour,—My
good God, I thank thee!
THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 1[22]
Tuesday, February 4th, 1728/9
Mr. Andrew Bradford,
I design this to acquaint you, that I, who have long been one
of your Courteous Readers, have lately entertain'd some
Thoughts of setting up for an Author mySelf; not out of the
least Vanity, I assure you, or Desire of showing my Parts, but
purely for the Good of my Country.
I have often observ'd with Concern that your Mercury is not
always equally entertaining. The Delay of Ships expected in,
and want of fresh Advices from Europe, make it frequently very
Dull; and I find the Freezing of our River has the same Effect on
News as on Trade. With more Concern have I continually
observ'd the growing Vices and Follies of my Country-folk;
and, tho' Reformation is properly the concern of every Man;
that is, Every one ought to mend One; yet 'tis too true in this
Case, that what is every Body's Business is nobody's Business;
and the Business is done accordingly. I therefore, upon mature
Deliberation, think fit to take Nobody's Business wholly into[138]
my own Hands; and, out of Zeal for the Publick Good, design
to erect mySelf into a Kind of Censor Morum; proposing, with
your Allowance, to make Use of the Weekly Mercury as a
Vehicle in which my Remonstrances shall be convey'd to the
World.
I am sensible I have in this Particular undertaken a very unthankful
Office, and expect little besides my Labour for my
Pains. Nay, 'tis probable I may displease a great Number of
your Readers, who will not very well like to pay 10s. a Year for
being told of their Faults. But, as most People delight in Censure
when they themselves are not the Objects of it, if any are
offended at my publickly exposing their private Vices, I promise
they shall have the Satisfaction, in a very little Time, of seeing
their good Friends and Neighbours in the same Circumstances.
However, let the Fair Sex be assur'd that I shall always treat
them and their Affairs with the utmost Decency and Respect.
I intend now and then to dedicate a Chapter wholly to their
Service; and if my Lectures any Way contribute to the Embellishment
of their Minds and brightning of their Understandings,
without offending their Modesty, I doubt not of having their
Favour and Encouragement.
'Tis certain, that no Country in the World produces naturally
finer Spirits than ours; Men of Genius for every kind of Science,
and capable of acquiring to Perfection every Qualification that
is in Esteem among Mankind. But as few here have the Advantage
of good Books, for want of which, good Conversation is
still more scarce, it would doubtless have been very acceptable
to your Readers, if, instead of an old out-of-date Article from
Muscovy or Hungary, you had entertained them with some
well-chosen Extract from a good Author. This I shall sometimes
do, when I happen to have nothing of my own to say that
I think of more Consequence. Sometimes I propose to deliver
Lectures of Morality or Philosophy, and (because I am naturally
enclin'd to be meddling with Things that don't concern me)
perhaps I may sometimes talk Politicks. And if I can by any
means furnish out a Weekly Entertainment for the Publick that
will give a rational Diversion, and at the same Time be instructive[139]
to the Readers, I shall think my Leisure Hours well employ'd:
And if you publish this, I hereby invite all ingenious
Gentlemen and others (that approve of such an Undertaking)
to my Assistance and Correspondence.
'Tis like by this Time, you have a Curiosity to be acquainted
with my Name and Character. As I do not aim at publick Praise,
I design to remain concealed; and there are such Numbers of
our Family and Relations at this Time in the Country, that tho'
I've sign'd my Name at full Length, I am not under the least
Apprehension of being distinguish'd and discover'd by it. My
Character, indeed, I would favour you with, but that I am
cautious of praising mySelf, lest I should be told my Trumpeter's
dead: And I cannot find in my Heart at present, to say
any Thing to my own Disadvantage.
It is very common with Authors, in their first Performances,
to talk to their Readers thus; "If this meets with a SUITABLE
Reception; Or, If this should meet with DUE Encouragement,
I shall hereafter publish, &c." This only manifests the Value
they put on their own Writings, since they think to frighten the
Publick into their Applause, by threatning, that unless you
approve what they have already wrote, they intend never to
write again; when perhaps it mayn't be a Pin Matter whether
they ever do or no. As I have not observ'd the Criticks to be
more favourable on this Account, I shall always avoid saying
any Thing of the Kind; and conclude with telling you, that, if
you send me a Bottle of Ink and a Quire of Paper by the Bearer,
you may depend on hearing further from, Sir, your most humble
Servant,
The Busy-Body.
THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 2
Tuesday, February 11, 1728/9
Monsieur de la Rochefoucault tells us somewhere in his
Memoirs, that the Prince of Condé delighted much in ridicule,[140]
and used frequently to shut himself up for half a day together
in his chamber, with a gentleman that was his favorite, purposely
to divert himself with examining what was the foible or ridiculous
side of every noted person in the court. That gentleman
said afterwards in some company, that he thought nothing was
more ridiculous in anybody, than this same humour in the
Prince; and I am somewhat inclined to be of this opinion. The
general tendency there is among us to this embellishment, which I
fear has too often grossly imposed upon my loving countrymen
instead of wit, and the applause it meets with from a rising generation,
fill me with fearful apprehensions for the future reputation
of my country. A young man of modesty (which is the
most certain indication of large capacities) is hereby discouraged
from attempting to make any figure in life; his apprehensions of
being out-laughed will force him to continue in a restless obscurity,
without having an opportunity of knowing his own
merit himself or discovering it to the world, rather than venture
to oppose himself in a place where a pun or a sneer shall pass for
wit, noise for reason, and the strength of the argument be judged
by that of the lungs.
Among these witty gentlemen let us take a view of Ridentius.
What a contemptible figure does he make with his train of paltry
admirers! This wight shall give himself an hour's diversion
with the cock of a man's hat, the heels of his shoes, an unguarded
expression in his discourse, or even some personal defect; and
the height of his low ambition is to put some one of the company
to the blush, who perhaps must pay an equal share of the
reckoning with himself. If such a fellow makes laughing the
sole end and purpose of his life; if it is necessary to his constitution,
or if he has a great desire of growing suddenly fat, let
him eat; let him give public notice where any dull stupid rogue
may get a quart of four-penny for being laughed at; but it is
barbarously unhandsome, when friends meet for the benefit of
conversation and a proper relaxation from business, that one
should be the butt of the company, and four men made merry at
the cost of the fifth.
How different from this character is that of the good-natured,[141]
gay Eugenius, who never spoke yet but with a design to divert
and please, and who was never yet baulked in his intention.
Eugenius takes more delight in applying the wit of his friends,
than in being admired himself; and if any one of the company is
so unfortunate as to be touched a little too nearly, he will make
use of some ingenious artifice to turn the edge of ridicule another
way, choosing rather to make himself a public jest, than
be at the pain of seeing his friend in confusion.
Among the tribe of laughers, I reckon the petty gentlemen
that write satires, and carry them about in their pockets, reading
them themselves in all company they happen into; taking an
advantage of the ill taste of the town to make themselves famous
for a pack of paltry, low nonsense, for which they deserve to be
kicked rather than admired, by all who have the least tincture of
politeness. These I take to be the most incorrigible of all my
readers; nay, I expect they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body
himself. However, the only favour he begs of them is this, that
if they cannot control their overbearing itch of scribbling, let
him be attacked in downright biting lyrics; for there is no satire
he dreads half so much as an attempt towards a panegyric.
THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 3
Tuesday, February 18th, 1728/9
It is said that the Persians, in their ancient Constitution, had
publick Schools in which Virtue was taught as a Liberal Art or
Science; and it is certainly of more Consequence to a Man, that
he has learnt to govern his Passions; in spite of Temptation to
be just in his Dealings, to be Temperate in his Pleasures, to
support himself with Fortitude under his Misfortunes, to behave
with Prudence in all Affairs, and in every Circumstance of[142]
Life; I say, it is of much more real Advantage to him to be thus
qualified, than to be a Master of all the Arts and Sciences in the
World beside.
Virtue alone is sufficient to make a Man Great, Glorious, and
Happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, as I am, cannot help
thinking as I do now, and will acknowledge he deserves the
Name, without being honour'd by it. Cato is a Man whom
Fortune has plac'd in the most obscure Part of the Country.
His Circumstances are such, as only put him above Necessity,
without affording him many Superfluities; Yet who is greater
than Cato? I happened but the other Day to be at a House in
Town, where, among others, were met Men of the most Note
in this Place. Cato had Business with some of them, and knock'd
at the Door. The most trifling Actions of a Man, in my Opinion,
as well as the smallest Features and Lineaments of the Face,
give a nice Observer some Notion of his Mind. Methought he
rapp'd in such a peculiar Manner, as seem'd of itself to express
there was One, who deserv'd as well as desir'd Admission. He
appear'd in the plainest Country Garb; his Great Coat was
coarse, and looked old and threadbare; his Linnen was home-spun;
his Beard perhaps of Seven Days' Growth; his Shoes
thick and heavy; and every Part of his Dress corresponding.
Why was this Man receiv'd with such concurring Respect from
every Person in the Room, even from those who had never
known him or seen him before? It was not an exquisite Form of
Person, or Grandeur of Dress, that struck us with Admiration.
I believe long Habits of Virtue have a sensible Effect on the
Countenance. There was something in the Air of his Face, that
manifested the true Greatness of his Mind, which likewise appear'd
in all he said, and in every Part of his Behaviour, obliging
us to regard him with a Kind of Veneration. His Aspect is
sweetened with Humanity and Benevolence, and at the same
Time enboldned with Resolution, equally free from a diffident
Bashfulness and an unbecoming Assurance. The Consciousness
of his own innate Worth and unshaken Integrity renders him
calm and undaunted in the Presence of the most Great and
Powerful, and upon the most extraordinary Occasions. His[143]
strict Justice and known Impartiality make him the Arbitrator
and Decider of all Differences, that arise for many Miles around
him, without putting his Neighbours to the Charge, Perplexity,
and Uncertainty of Law-Suits. He always speaks the Thing he
means, which he is never afraid or asham'd to do, because he
knows he always means well, and therefore is never oblig'd to
blush, and feel the Confusion of finding himself detected in the
Meanness of a Falsehood. He never contrives Ill against his
Neighbour, and therefore is never seen with a lowring, suspicious
Aspect. A mixture of Innocence and Wisdom makes him ever
seriously chearful. His generous Hospitality to Strangers, according
to his Ability; his Goodness, his Charity, his Courage in
the Cause of the Oppressed, his Fidelity in Friendship, his
Humility, his Honesty and Sincerity, his Moderation, and his
Loyalty to the Government; his Piety, his Temperance, his Love
to Mankind, his Magnanimity, his Publick-Spiritedness, and in
fine, his consummate Virtue, make him justly deserve to be
esteem'd the Glory of his Country.
"The Brave do never shun the Light;
Just are their Thoughts, and open are their Tempers;
Freely without Disguise they love and hate;
Still are they found in the fair Face of Day,
And Heaven and Men are Judges of their Actions."
—Rowe.
Who would not rather chuse, if it were in his Choice, to merit
the above Character, than be the richest, the most learned, or
the most powerful Man in the Province without it?
Almost every Man has a strong natural Desire of being valu'd
and esteem'd by the rest of his Species, but I am concern'd and
griev'd to see how few fall into the Right and only infallible
Method of becoming so. That laudable Ambition is too commonly
misapply'd, and often ill employ'd. Some to make themselves
considerable pursue Learning, others grasp at Wealth;
some aim at being thought witty; and others are only careful to
make the most of an handsome Person; But what is Wit, or
Wealth, or Form, or Learning, when compar'd with Virtue?[144]
'Tis true, we love the handsome, we applaud the Learned, and
we fear the Rich and Powerful; but we even Worship and adore
the Virtuous. Nor is it strange; since Men of Virtue are so rare,
so very rare to be found. If we were as industrious to become
Good as to make ourselves Great, we should become really
Great by being Good, and the Number of valuable Men would
be much increased; but it is a Grand Mistake to think of being
Great without Goodness; and I pronounce it as certain, that
there was never yet a truly Great Man, that was not at the same
Time truly Virtuous.
O Cretico! thou sowre Philosopher! Thou cunning Statesman!
Thou art crafty, but far from being Wise. When wilt
thou be esteem'd, regarded, and belov'd like Cato? When wilt
thou, among thy Creatures, meet with that unfeign'd respect
and warm Good-will, that all Men have for him? Wilt thou
never understand, that the cringing, mean, submissive Deportment
of thy Dependents, is (like the worship paid by Indians to
the Devil) rather thro' Fear of the Harm thou may'st do to
them, than out of Gratitude for the Favours they have receiv'd of
thee? Thou art not wholly void of Virtue; there are many good
Things in thee, and many good Actions reported of thee. Be
advised by thy Friend. Neglect those musty Authors; let them
be cover'd with Dust, and moulder on their proper Shelves; and
do thou apply thyself to a Study much more profitable, The
knowledge of Mankind and of thySelf.
This is to give Notice, that the Busy-Body strictly forbids
all Persons, from this Time forward, of what Age, Sex, Rank,
Quality, Degree, or Denomination soever, on any Pretence, to
enquire who is the Author of this Paper, on Pain of his Displeasure,
(his own near and Dear Relations only excepted).
'Tis to be observ'd, that if any bad Characters happen to be
drawn in the Course of these Papers, they mean no particular
Person, if they are not particularly apply'd.
Likewise, that the Author is no Party-man, but a general
Meddler.
N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring Province.[145]
THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 4
Tuesday, February 25, 1728/9.
Ne quid nimis.
In my first Paper I invited the Learned and the Ingenious to
join with me in this Undertaking, and I now repeat that Invitation.
I would have such Gentlemen take this Opportunity (by
trying their Talent in Writing) of diverting themselves and their
Friends, and improving the Taste of the Town. And because I
would encourage all Wit of our own Growth and Produce, I
hereby promise, that whoever shall send me a little Essay on
some moral or other Subject, that is fit for publick View in this
Manner, (and not basely borrow'd from any other Author,) I
shall receive it with Candour, and take care to place it to the
best Advantage. It will be hard if we cannot muster up in the
whole Country a sufficient Stock of Sense to supply the Busy-Body
at least for a Twelvemonth.
For my own Part, I have already profess'd, that I have the
Good of my Country wholly at Heart in this Design, without
the least sinister View; my chief Purpose being to inculcate the
noble Principles of Virtue, and depreciate Vice of every kind.
But, as I know the Mob hate Instruction, and the Generality
would never read beyond the first Line of my Lectures, if they
were actually fill'd with nothing but wholesome Precepts and
Advice, I must therefore sometimes humor them in their own
Way. There are a Set of Great Names in the Province, who are
the common Objects of Popular Dislike. If I can now and then
overcome my Reluctance, and prevail with myself to satyrize a
little one of these Gentlemen, the Expectation of meeting with
such a Gratification will induce many to read me through, who
would otherwise proceed immediately to the Foreign News. As
I am very well assured the greatest Men among us have a sincere
Love for their Country, notwithstanding its Ingratitude, and
the Insinuations of the Envious and Malicious to the contrary, so
I doubt not but they will chearfully tolerate me in the Liberty I
design to take for the End above mentioned.[146]
As yet I have but few Correspondents, tho' they begin now
to increase. The following Letter, left for me at the Printer's, is
one of the first I have receiv'd, which I regard the more for that
it comes from one of the Fair Sex, and because I have myself
oftentimes suffer'd under the Grievance therein complain'd of.
"TO THE BUSY-BODY
"Sir,
"You having set yourself up for a Censuror Morum, (as I
think you call it), which is said to mean a Reformer of Manners,
I know no Person more proper to be apply'd to for Redress in
all the Grievances we suffer from Want of Manners, in some
People. You must know I am a single Woman, and keep a Shop
in this Town for a Livelyhood. There is a certain Neighbour of
mine, who is really agreeable Company enough, and with whom
I have had an Intimacy of some Time standing; but of late she
makes her visits so excessively often, and stays so very long
every Visit, that I am tir'd out of all Patience. I have no Manner
of Time at all to myself; and you, who seem to be a wise Man,
must needs be sensible that every Person has little Secrets and
Privacies, that are not proper to be expos'd even to the nearest
Friend. Now I cannot do the least Thing in the World, but
she must know all about it; and it is a Wonder I have found an
Opportunity to write you this Letter. My Misfortune is, that I
respect her very well, and know not how to disoblige her so
much as to tell her I should be glad to have less other Company;
for if I should once hint such a Thing, I am afraid she would resent
it so as never to darken my Door again.
"But alas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my Affliction. She
has two Children, that are just big enough to run about and do
pretty Mischief; these are continually along with Mamma, either
in my Room or Shop, if I have ever so many Customers or
People with me about Business. Sometimes they pull the
Goods off my low Shelves down to the Ground, and perhaps
where one of them has just been making Water. My Friend
takes up the Stuff, and cries, 'Eh! thou little wicked mischievous[147]
Rogue! But, however, it has done no great Damage; 'tis only
wet a little;' and so puts it up upon the Shelf again. Sometimes
they get to my Cask of Nails behind the Counter, and divert
themselves, to my great Vexation, with mixing my Ten-penny,
and Eight-penny, and Four-penny, together. I endeavour to
conceal my Uneasiness as much as possible, and with a grave
Look go to Sorting them out. She cries, 'Don't thee trouble
thyself, Neighbour: Let them play a little; I'll put all to rights
myself before I go.' But Things are never so put to rights, but
that I find a great deal of Work to do after they are gone. Thus,
Sir, I have all the Trouble and Pesterment of Children, without
the Pleasure of—calling them my own; and they are now so
us'd to being here, that they will be content nowhere else. If
she would have been so kind as to have moderated her Visits to
ten times a Day, and stay'd but half an hour at a Time, I should
have been contented, and I believe never have given you this
Trouble. But this very Morning they have so tormented me,
that I could bear no longer; for, while the Mother was asking me
twenty impertinent Questions, the youngest got to my Nails,
and with great Delight rattled them by handfuls all over the
Floor; and the other, at the same Time, made such a terrible Din
upon my Counter with a Hammer, that I grew half distracted.
I was just then about to make myself a new Suit of Pinners; but
in the Fret and Confusion I cut it quite out of all Manner of
Shape, and utterly spoil'd a Piece of the first Muslin.
"Pray, Sir, tell me what I shall do; and talk a little against
such unreasonable Visiting in your next Paper; tho' I would not
have her affronted with me for a great Deal, for sincerely I love
her and her Children, as well, I think, as a Neighbour can, and
she buys a great many Things in a Year at my Shop. But I
would beg her to consider, that she uses me unmercifully, Tho'
I believe it is only for want of Thought. But I have twenty
Things more to tell you besides all this: There is a handsome
Gentleman, that has a Mind (I don't question) to make love to
me, but he can't get the least Opportunity to—O dear! here
she comes again; I must conclude, yours, &c.
"Patience."
[148]
Indeed, 'tis well enough, as it happens, that she is come to
shorten this Complaint, which I think is full long enough already,
and probably would otherwise have been as long again.
However, I must confess, I cannot help pitying my Correspondent's
Case; and, in her Behalf, exhort the Visitor to remember
and consider the Words of the Wise Man, "Withdraw
thy Foot from the House of thy Neighbour, lest he grow weary
of thee, and so hate thee." It is, I believe, a nice thing, and very
difficult, to regulate our Visits in such a Manner, as never to give
Offence by coming too seldom, or too often, or departing too
abruptly, or staying too long. However, in my Opinion, it is
safest for most People in a general way, who are unwilling to disoblige,
to visit seldom, and tarry but a little while in a Place,
notwithstanding pressing invitations, which are many times insincere.
And tho' more of your Company should be really
desir'd, yet in this Case, too much Reservedness is a Fault more
easily excus'd than the Contrary.
Men are subjected to various Inconveniences meerly through
lack of a small Share of Courage, which is a Quality very necessary
in the common Occurrences of Life, as well as in a Battle.
How many Impertinences do we daily suffer with great Uneasiness,
because we have not Courage enough to discover our Dislike?
And why may not a Man use the Boldness and Freedom of
telling his Friends, that their long Visits sometimes incommode
him? On this Occasion, it may be entertaining to some of my
Readers, if I acquaint them with the Turkish Manner of entertaining
Visitors, which I have from an Author of unquestionable Veracity;
who assures us, that even the Turks are not so
ignorant of Civility and the Arts of Endearment, but that they
can practise them with as much Exactness as any other Nation,
whenever they have a Mind to shew themselves obliging.
"When you visit a Person of Quality," (says he) "and have
talk'd over your Business, or the Complements, or whatever
Concern brought you thither, he makes a Sign to have Things
serv'd in for the Entertainment, which is generally, a little
Sweetmeat, a Dish of Sherbet, and another of Coffee; all which[149]
are immediately brought in by the Servants, and tender'd to
all the Guests in Order, with the greatest Care and Awfulness
imaginable. At last comes the finishing Part of your Entertainment,
which is, Perfuming the Beards of the Company; a Ceremony
which is perform'd in this Manner. They have for the
Purpose a small Silver Chaffing-Dish, cover'd with a Lid full of
Holes, and fixed upon a handsome Plate. In this they put some
fresh Coals, and upon them a piece of Lignum Aloes, and shutting
it up, the smoak immediately ascends with a grateful Odour
thro' the Holes of the Cover. This smoak is held under every
one's Chin, and offer'd as it were a Sacrifice to his Beard. The
bristly Idol soon receives the Reverence done to it, and so
greedily takes in and incorporates the gummy Steam, that it retains
the Savour of it, and may serve for a Nosegay a good while
after.
"This Ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing,
but it passes among the Turks for a high Gratification. And I
will say this in its Vindication, that its Design is very wise and
useful. For it is understood to give a civil Dismission to the
Visitants, intimating to them, that the Master of the House has
Business to do, or some other Avocation, that permits them to
go away as soon as they please, and the sooner after this Ceremony
the better. By this Means you may, at any Time, without
Offence, deliver yourself from being detain'd from your Affairs
by tedious and unseasonable Visits; and from being constrain'd
to use that Piece of Hypocrisy, so common in the World, of
pressing those to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in your
Heart you wish a great Way off for having troubled you so long
already."
Thus far my Author. For my own Part, I have taken such a
Fancy to this Turkish Custom, that for the future I shall put
something like it in Practice. I have provided a Bottle of right
French Brandy for the Men, and Citron-Water for the Ladies.
After I have treated with a Dram, and presented a Pinch of my
best Snuff, I expect all Company will retire, and leave me to pursue
my Studies for the Good of the Publick.
[150]
ADVERTISEMENT
I give Notice, that I am now actually compiling, and design
to publish in a short Time, the true History of the Rise, Growth,
and Progress of the renowned Tiff-Club. All Persons who are
acquainted with any Facts, Circumstances, Characters, Transactions,
&c. which will be requisite to the Perfecting and Embellishment
of the said Work, are desired to communicate the same
to the Author, and direct their Letters to be left with the Printer
hereof.
The Letter, sign'd "Would-be-Something," is come to hand.
PREFACE TO THE PENNSYLVANIA GAZETTE
October 2, 1729
The Pennsylvania Gazette being now to be carry'd on by
other Hands, the Reader may expect some Account of the
Method we design to proceed in.[23]
Upon a view of Chambers's great Dictionaries, from whence
were taken the Materials of the Universal Instructor in all Arts
and Sciences, which usually made the First Part of this Paper, we
find that besides their containing many Things abstruse or insignificant
to us, it will probably be fifty Years before the Whole
can be gone thro' in this Manner of Publication. There are likewise
in those Books continual References from Things under
one Letter of the Alphabet to those under another, which relate
to the same Subject, and are necessary to explain and compleat
it; these taken in their Turn may perhaps be Ten Years distant;
and since it is likely that they who desire to acquaint themselves
with any particular Art or Science, would gladly have the whole
before them in much less time, we believe our Readers will not
think such a Method of communicating Knowledge to be a
proper One.
However, tho' we do not intend to continue the Publication
of those Dictionaries in a regular Alphabetical Method, as has
hitherto been done; yet as several Things exhibited from them[151]
in the Course of these Papers, have been entertaining to such of
the Curious, who never had and cannot have the Advantage of
good Libraries; and as there are many Things still behind, which
being in this Manner made generally known, may perhaps become
of considerable Use, by giving such Hints to the excellent
natural Genius's of our Country, as may contribute either to
the Improvement of our present Manufactures, or towards the
Invention of new Ones; we propose from Time to Time to communicate
such particular Parts as appear to be of the most
general Consequence.
As to the "Religious Courtship," Part of which has been
retal'd to the Publick in these Papers, the Reader may be inform'd,
that the whole Book will probably in a little Time be
printed and bound up by itself; and those who approve of it,
will doubtless be better pleas'd to have it entire, than in this
broken interrupted Manner.
There are many who have long desired to see a good News-Paper
in Pennsylvania; and we hope those Gentlemen who are
able, will contribute towards the making This such. We ask
Assistance, because we are fully sensible, that to publish a good
News-Paper is not so easy an Undertaking as many People
imagine it to be. The Author of a Gazette (in the Opinion of
the Learned) ought to be qualified with an extensive Acquaintance
with Languages, a great Easiness and Command of Writing
and Relating Things clearly and intelligibly, and in few Words;
he should be able to speak of War both by Land and Sea; be
well acquainted with Geography, with the History of the Time,
with the several Interests of Princes and States, the Secrets of
Courts, and the Manners and Customs of all Nations. Men thus
accomplish'd are very rare in this remote Part of the World;
and it would be well if the Writer of these Papers could make
up among his Friends what is wanting in himself.
Upon the Whole, we may assure the Publick, that as far as
the Encouragement we meet with will enable us, no Care and
Pains shall be omitted, that may make the Pennsylvania Gazette
as agreeable and useful an Entertainment as the Nature of the
Thing will allow.[152]
A DIALOGUE
BETWEEN PHILOCLES AND HORATIO,
MEETING ACCIDENTALLY IN THE FIELDS,
CONCERNING VIRTUE AND PLEASURE
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, June 23, 1730.][24]
Philocles. My friend Horatio! I am very glad to see you;
prithee, how came such a Man as you alone? and musing too?
What Misfortune in your Pleasures has sent you to Philosophy
for Relief?
Horatio. You guess very right, my dear Philocles! We
Pleasure-hunters are never without 'em; and yet, so enchanting
is the Game! we can't quit the Chace. How calm and undisturbed
is your Life! How free from present Embarrassments
and future Cares! I know you love me, and look with Compassion
upon my Conduct; Shew me then the Path which leads up
to that constant and invariable Good, which I have heard you so
beautifully describe, and which you seem so fully to possess.
Phil. There are few Men in the World I value more than you,
Horatio! for amidst all your Foibles and painful Pursuits of
Pleasure, I have oft observed in you an honest Heart, and a
Mind strongly bent towards Virtue. I wish, from my Soul, I
could assist you in acting steadily the Part of a reasonable Creature;
for, if you would not think it a Paradox, I should tell you
I love you better than you do yourself.
Hor. A Paradox indeed! Better than I do myself! When I
love my dear self so well, that I love every Thing else for my
own sake.
Phil. He only loves himself well, who rightly and judiciously
loves himself.
Hor. What do you mean by that, Philocles! You Men of
Reason and Virtue are always dealing in Mysteries, tho' you
laugh at 'em when the Church makes 'em. I think he loves himself
very well and very judiciously too, as you call it, who allows
himself to do whatever he pleases.[153]
Phil. What, though it be to the Ruin and Destruction of that
very Self which he loves so well! That Man alone loves himself
rightly, who procures the greatest possible Good to himself
thro' the whole of his Existence; and so pursues Pleasure as not
to give for it more than 'tis worth.
Hor. That depends all upon Opinion. Who shall judge what
the Pleasure is worth? Supposing a pleasing Form of the fair
Kind strikes me so much, that I can enjoy nothing without the
Enjoyment of that one Object. Or, that Pleasure in general is so
favorite a Mistress, that I will take her as Men do their Wives, for
better, for worse; mind no Consequences, nor regarding what's
to come. Why should I not do it?
Phil. Suppose, Horatio, that a Friend of yours entred into the
World about Two-and-Twenty, with a healthful vigorous Body,
and a fair plentiful Estate of about Five Hundred Pounds a
Year; and yet, before he had reached Thirty, should, by following
his Pleasures, and not, as you say, duly regarding Consequences,
have run out of his Estate, and disabled his Body to
that Degree, that he had neither the Means nor Capacity of
Enjoyment left, nor any Thing else to do but wisely shoot himself
through the Head to be at rest; what would you say to this
unfortunate Man's Conduct? Is it wrong by Opinion or Fancy
only? Or is there really a Right and Wrong in the Case? Is not
one Opinion of Life and Action juster than another? Or, one
Sort of Conduct preferable to another? Or, does that miserable
Son of Pleasure appear as reasonable and lovely a Being in your
Eyes, as a Man who, by prudently and rightly gratifying his
natural Passions, had preserved his Body in full Health, and his
Estate entire, and enjoy'd both to a good old Age, and then died
with a thankful Heart for the good Things he had received, and
with an entire Submission to the Will of Him who first called
him into Being? Say, Horatio! are these Men equally wise and
happy? And is every Thing to be measured by mere Fancy and
Opinion, without considering whether that Fancy or Opinion
be right?
Hor. Hardly so neither, I think; yet sure the wise and good
Author of Nature could never make us to plague us. He could[154]
never give us Passions, on purpose to subdue and conquer 'em;
nor produce this Self of mine, or any other self, only that it
may be denied; for that is denying the Works of the great Creator
himself. Self-denial, then, which is what I suppose you mean
by Prudence, seems to me not only absurd, but very dishonourable
to that Supreme Wisdom and Goodness, which is supposed
to make so ridiculous and Contradictious a Creature, that
must be always fighting with himself in order to be at rest, and
undergo voluntary Hardships in order to be happy: Are we
created sick, only to be commanded to be Sound? Are we born
under one Law, our Passions, and yet bound to another, that of
Reason? Answer me, Philocles, for I am warmly concerned for
the Honour of Nature, the Mother of us all.
Phil. I find, Horatio, my two Characters have affrighted you;
so that you decline the Trial of what is Good, by reason: And
had rather make a bold Attack upon Providence; the usual Way
of you Gentlemen of Fashion, who, when by living in Defiance
of the eternal Rules of Reason, you have plunged yourselves into
a thousand Difficulties, endeavour to make yourselves easy by
throwing the Burden upon Nature. You are, Horatio, in a very
miserable Condition indeed; for you say you can't be happy if
you controul your Passions; and you feel yourself miserable by
an unrestrained Gratification of 'em; so that here's Evil, irremediable
Evil, either way.
Hor. That is very true, at least it appears so to me: Pray,
what have you to say, Philocles! in Honour of Nature or Providence;
methinks I'm in Pain for her: How do you rescue her?
poor Lady!
Phil. This, my dear Horatio, I have to say; that what you
find Fault with and clamour against, as the most terrible Evil in
the World, Self-denial; is really the greatest Good, and the highest
Self-gratification: If indeed, you use the Word in the Sense
of some weak sour Moralists, and much weaker Divines, you'll
have just Reason to laugh at it; but if you take it, as understood
by Philosophers and Men of Sense, you will presently see her
Charms, and fly to her Embraces, notwithstanding her demure
Looks, as absolutely necessary to produce even your own darling[155]
sole Good, Pleasure: For, Self-denial is never a Duty, or a
reasonable Action, but as 'tis a natural Means of procuring more
Pleasure than you can taste without it so that this grave, Saint-like
Guide to Happiness, as rough and dreadful as she has been
made to appear, is in truth the kindest and most beautiful Mistress
in the World.
Hor. Prithee, Philocles! do not wrap yourself in Allegory
and Metaphor. Why do you teaze me thus? I long to be satisfied,
what this Philosophical Self-denial is, the Necessity and
Reason of it; I'm impatient, and all on Fire; explain, therefore,
in your beautiful, natural easy Way of Reasoning, what I'm
to understand by this grave Lady of yours, with so forbidding,
downcast Looks, and yet so absolutely necessary to my Pleasures.
I stand ready to embrace her; for you know, Pleasure I
court under all Shapes and Forms.
Phil. Attend then, and you'll see the Reason of this Philosophical
Self-denial. There can be no absolute Perfection in
any Creature; because every Creature is derived, and dependent:
No created Being can be All-wise, All-good, and All-powerful,
because his Powers and Capacities are finite and limited; consequently
whatever is created must, in its own Nature, be subject
to Error, Irregularity, Excess, and Disorder. All intelligent,
rational Agents find in themselves a Power of judging what
kind of Beings they are; what Actions are proper to preserve
'em, and what Consequences will generally attend them, what
Pleasures they are form'd for, and to what Degree their Natures
are capable of receiving them. All we have to do then, Horatio,
is to consider, when we are surpriz'd with a new Object, and passionately
desire to enjoy it, whether the gratifying that Passion
be consistent with the gratifying other Passions and Appetites,
equal if not more necessary to us. And whether it consists with
our Happiness To-morrow, next Week, or next Year; for, as we
all wish to live, we are obliged by Reason to take as much Care
for our future, as our present Happiness, and not build one upon
the Ruins of t'other. But, if thro' the Strength and Power of a
present Passion, and thro' want of attending to Consequences,
we have err'd and exceeded the Bounds which Nature or Reason[156]
have set us; we are then, for our own Sakes, to refrain, or deny
ourselves a present momentary Pleasure for a future, constant
and durable one: So that this Philosophical Self-denial is only
refusing to do an Action which you strongly desire; because 'tis
inconsistent with your Health, Fortunes, or Circumstances in
the World; or, in other Words, because 'twould cost you more
than 'twas worth. You would lose by it, as a Man of Pleasure.
Thus you see, Horatio! that Self-denial is not only the most
reasonable, but the most pleasant Thing in the World.
Hor. We are just coming into Town, so that we can't pursue
this Argument any farther at present; you have said a great deal
for Nature, Providence, and Reason: Happy are they who can
follow such divine Guides.
Phil. Horatio! good Night; I wish you wise in your Pleasures.
Hor. I wish, Philocles! I could be as wise in my Pleasures as
you are pleasantly Wise; your Wisdom is agreeable, your Virtue
is amiable, and your Philosophy the highest Luxury. Adieu!
thou enchanting Reasoner!
A SECOND DIALOGUE
BETWEEN PHILOCLES AND HORATIO,
CONCERNING VIRTUE AND PLEASURE
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 9, 1730.]
Philocles. Dear Horatio! where hast thou been these three or
four Months? What new Adventures have you fallen upon
since I met you in these delightful, all-inspiring Fields, and
wondred how such a Pleasure-hunter as you could bear being
alone?
Horatio. O Philocles, thou best of Friends, because a Friend
to Reason and Virtue, I am very glad to see you. Don't you
remember, I told you then, that some Misfortunes in my Pleasures
had sent me to Philosophy for Relief? But now I do
assure you, I can, without a Sigh, leave other Pleasures for
those of Philosophy; I can hear the Word Reason mentioned,[157]
and Virtue praised, without Laughing. Don't I bid fair for Conversion,
think you?
Phil. Very fair, Horatio! for I remember the Time when
Reason, Virtue, and Pleasure, were the same Thing with you:
When you counted nothing Good but what pleas'd, nor any
thing Reasonable but what you got by; When you made a Jest
of a Mind, and the Pleasures of Reflection, and elegantly plac'd
your sole Happiness, like the rest of the Animal Creation, in the
Gratifications of Sense.
Hor. I did so: But in our last Conversation, when walking
upon the Brow of this Hill, and looking down on that broad,
rapid River, and yon widely-extended beautifully-varied Plain,
you taught me another Doctrine: You shewed me, that Self-denial,
which above all Things I abhorred, was really the greatest
Good, and the highest Self-gratification, and absolutely
necessary to produce even my own darling sole Good, Pleasure.
Phil. True: I told you that Self-denial was never a Duty but
when it was a natural Means of procuring more Pleasure than
we could taste without it: That as we all strongly desire to live,
and to live only to enjoy, we should take as much Care about
our future as our present Happiness; and not build one upon the
Ruins of 'tother: That we should look to the End, and regard
Consequences: and if, thro' want of Attention we had err'd, and
exceeded the Bounds which Nature had set us, we were then
obliged, for our own Sakes, to refrain or deny ourselves a present
momentary Pleasure for a future, constant, and durable Good.
Hor. You have shewn, Philocles, that Self-denial, which
weak or interested Men have rendred the most forbidding, is
really the most delightful and amiable, the most reasonable and
pleasant Thing in the World. In a Word, if I understand you
aright, Self-denial is, in Truth, Self-recognising, Self-acknowledging,
or Self-owning. But now, my Friend! you are to perform
another Promise; and shew me the Path which leads up to
that constant, durable, and invariable Good, which I have heard
you so beautifully describe, and which you seem so fully to
possess: Is not this Good of yours a mere Chimera? Can any
Thing be constant in a World which is eternally changing! and[158]
which appears to exist by an everlasting Revolution of one
Thing into another, and where every Thing without us, and
every Thing within us, is in perpetual Motion? What is this
constant, durable Good, then, of yours? Prithee, satisfy my
Soul, for I'm all on Fire, and impatient to enjoy her. Produce
this eternal blooming Goddess with never-fading Charms, and
see, whether I won't embrace her with as much Eagerness and
Rapture as you.
Phil. You seem enthusiastically warm, Horatio; I will wait
till you are cool enough to attend to the sober, dispassionate
Voice of Reason.
Hor. You mistake me, my dear Philocles! my Warmth is
not so great as to run away with my Reason: it is only just raised
enough to open my Faculties, and fit them to receive those
eternal Truths, and that durable Good, which you so triumphantly
boasted of. Begin, then; I'm prepared.
Phil. I will. I believe, Horatio! with all your Skepticism
about you, you will allow that Good to be constant which is
never absent from you, and that to be durable, which never
Ends but with your Being.
Hor. Yes, go on.
Phil. That can never be the Good of a Creature, which when
present, the Creature may be miserable, and when absent, is
certainly so.
Hor. I think not; but pray explain what you mean; for I am
not much used to this abstract Way of Reasoning.
Phil. I mean all the Pleasures of Sense. The Good of Man
cannot consist in the mere Pleasures of Sense; because, when
any one of those Objects which you love is absent, or can't be
come at, you are certainly miserable: and if the Faculty be impair'd,
though the Object be present, you can't enjoy it. So that
this sensual Good depends upon a thousand Things without
and within you, and all out of your Power. Can this then be
the Good of Man? Say, Horatio! what think you, Is not this a
chequer'd, fleeting, fantastical Good? Can that, in any propriety
of Speech, be called the Good of Man which even, while he is
tasting, he may be miserable; and which when he cannot taste,[159]
he is necessarily so? Can that be our Good, which costs us a
great deal of Pains to obtain; which cloys in possessing; for
which we must wait the Return of Appetite before we can enjoy
again? Or, is that our Good, which we can come at without
Difficulty; which is heightened by Possession, which never ends
in Weariness and Disappointment; and which, the more we
enjoy, the better qualified we are to enjoy on?
Hor. The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus?
Philocles! shew me this Good immediately.
Phil. I have shewed you what 'tis not; it is not sensual, but
'tis rational and moral Good. It is doing all the Good we can to
others, by Acts of Humanity, Friendship, Generosity, and
Benevolence: This is that constant and durable Good, which
will afford Contentment and Satisfaction always alike, without
Variation or Diminution. I speak to your Experience now,
Horatio! Did you ever find yourself weary of relieving the
Miserable? or of raising the Distressed into Life or Happiness?
Or rather, don't you find the Pleasure grow upon you by Repetition,
and that 'tis greater in the Reflection than in the Act itself?
Is there a Pleasure upon Earth to be compared with that
which arises from the Sense of making others happy? Can this
Pleasure ever be absent, or ever end but with your Being? Does
it not always accompany you? Doth not it lie down and rise
with you? live as long as you live? give you Consolation in the
Article of Death, and remain with you in that gloomy Hour,
when all other Things are going to forsake you, or you them?
Hor. How glowingly you paint, Philocles! Methinks Horatio
is amongst the Enthusiasts. I feel the Passion: I am enchantingly
convinced; but I don't know why: Overborn by
something stronger than Reason. Sure some Divinity speaks
within me; but prithee, Philocles, give me cooly the Cause, why
this rational and moral Good so infinitely excels the meer natural
or sensual.
Phil. I think, Horatio! that I have clearly shewn you the
Difference between merely natural or sensual Good, and rational
or moral Good. Natural or sensual Pleasure continues no
longer than the Action itself; but this divine or moral Pleasure[160]
continues when the Action is over, and swells and grows upon
your Hand by Reflection: The one is inconstant, unsatisfying,
of short Duration, and attended with numberless Ills; the other
is constant, yields full Satisfaction, is durable, and no Evils preceding,
accompanying, or following it. But, if you enquire
farther into the Cause of this Difference, and would know why
the moral Pleasures are greater than the sensual; perhaps the
Reason is the same as in all other Creatures, That their Happiness
or chief Good consists in acting up to their chief Faculty,
or that Faculty which distinguishes them from all Creatures of a
different Species. The chief Faculty in a Man is his Reason; and
consequently his chief Good; or that which may be justly called
his Good, consists not merely in Action, but in reasonable
Action. By reasonable Actions, we understand those Actions
which are preservative of the human Kind, and naturally tend
to produce real and unmixed Happiness; and these Actions, by
way of Distinction, we call Actions morally Good.
Hor. You speak very clearly, Philocles! but, that no Difficulty
may remain upon my Mind, pray tell me what is the real
Difference between natural Good and Ill, and moral Good and
Ill? for I know several People who use the Terms without Ideas.
Phil. That may be: The Difference lies only in this; that
natural Good and Ill is Pleasure and Pain: Moral Good and Ill is
Pleasure or Pain produced with Intention and Design; for 'tis
the Intention only that makes the Agent morally Good or Bad.
Hor. But may not a Man, with a very good Intention, do an
ill Action?
Phil. Yes, but, then he errs in his Judgment, tho' his Design
be good. If his Error is inevitable, or such as, all Things considered,
he could not help, he is inculpable: But if it arose through
want of Diligence in forming his Judgment about the Nature of
human Actions, he is immoral and culpable.
Hor. I find, then, that in order to please ourselves rightly,
or to do good to others morally, we should take great Care of
our Opinions.
Phil. Nothing concerns you more; for, as the Happiness or
real Good of Men consists in right Action, and right Action cannot[161]
be produced without right Opinion, it behoves us, above all
Things in this World, to take Care that our Opinions of Things
be according to the Nature of Things. The Foundation of all
Virtue and Happiness is Thinking rightly. He who sees an Action
is right, that is, naturally tending to Good, and does it because
of that Tendency, he only is a moral Man; and he alone is
capable of that constant, durable, and invariable Good, which
has been the Subject of this Conversation.
Hor. How, my dear philosophical Guide, shall I be able to
know, and determine certainly, what is Right and Wrong in
Life?
Phil. As easily as you distinguish a Circle from a Square, or
Light from Darkness. Look, Horatio, into the sacred Book of
Nature; read your own Nature, and view the Relation which
other Men stand in to you, and you to them; and you'll immediately
see what constitutes human Happiness, and consequently
what is Right.
Hor. We are just coming into Town, and can say no more at
present. You are my good Genius, Philocles. You have shewed
me what is good. You have redeemed me from the Slavery and
Misery of Folly and Vice, and made me a free and happy Being.
Phil. Then I am the happiest Man in the World. Be steady,
Horatio! Never depart from Reason and Virtue.
Hor. Sooner will I lose my Existence. Good Night, Philocles.
Phil. Adieu! dear Horatio!
A WITCH TRIAL AT MOUNT HOLLY
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, Oct. 22, 1730.]
"Saturday last, at Mount-Holly, about 8 Miles from this
Place [Burlington, N. J.] near 300 People were gathered together
to see an Experiment or two tried on some Persons accused of
Witchcraft. It seems the Accused had been charged with making
their Neighbours' Sheep dance in an uncommon Manner,
and with causing Hogs to speak and sing Psalms, etc., to the[162]
great Terror and Amazement of the king's good and peaceable
Subjects in this Province; and the Accusers, being very positive
that if the Accused were weighed in Scales against a Bible, the
Bible would prove too heavy for them; or that, if they were
bound and put into the River they would swim; the said Accused,
desirous to make Innocence appear, voluntarily offered
to undergo the said Trials if 2 of the most violent of their Accusers
would be tried with them. Accordingly the Time and
Place was agreed on and advertised about the Country; The
Accusers were 1 Man and 1 Woman: and the Accused the same.
The Parties being met and the People got together, a grand
Consultation was held, before they proceeded to Trial; in which
it was agreed to use the Scales first; and a Committee of Men
were appointed to search the Men, and a Committee of Women
to search the Women, to see if they had any Thing of Weight
about them, particularly Pins. After the Scrutiny was over a
huge great Bible belonging to the Justice of the Place was provided,
and a Lane through the Populace was made from the
Justice's House to the Scales, which were fixed on a Gallows
erected for that Purpose opposite to the House, that the Justice's
Wife and the rest of the Ladies might see the Trial without coming
amongst the Mob, and after the Manner of Moorfields a
large Ring was also made. Then came out of the House a grave,
tall Man carrying the Holy Writ before the supposed Wizard
etc., (as solemnly as the Sword-bearer of London before the
Lord Mayor) the Wizard was first put in the Scale, and over him
was read a Chapter out of the Books of Moses, and then the
Bible was put in the other Scale, (which, being kept down before)
was immediately let go; but, to the great Surprize of the
Spectators, Flesh and Bones came down plump, and outweighed
that great good Book by abundance.[25] After the same Manner
the others were served, and their Lumps of Mortality severally
were too heavy for Moses and all the Prophets and Apostles.
This being over, the Accusers and the rest of the Mob, not satisfied
with this Experiment, would have the Trial by Water.
Accordingly a most solemn Procession was made to the Millpond,
where both Accused and Accusers being stripped (saving[163]
only to the Women their Shifts) were bound Hand and Foot
and severally placed in the Water, lengthways, from the Side
of a Barge or Flat, having for Security only a Rope about the
Middle of each, which was held by some in the Flat. The
accused man being thin and spare with some Difficulty began
to sink at last; but the rest, every one of them, swam very light
upon the Water. A Sailor in the Flat jump'd out upon the
Back of the Man accused thinking to drive him down to the
Bottom; but the Person bound, without any Help, came up
some time before the other. The Woman Accuser being told
that she did not sink, would be duck'd a second Time; when
she swam again as light as before. Upon which she declared,
That she believed the Accused had bewitched her to make her
so light, and that she would be duck'd again a Hundred Times
but she would duck the Devil out of her. The Accused Man,
being surpriz'd at his own Swimming, was not so confident of
his Innocence as before, but said, 'If I am a Witch, it is more
than I know.' The more thinking Part of the Spectators were
of Opinion that any Person so bound and placed in the Water
(unless they were mere Skin and Bones) would swim, till their
Breath was gone, and their Lungs fill'd with Water. But it
being the general Belief of the Populace that the Women's
shifts and the Garters with which they were bound help'd to
support them, it is said they are to be tried again the next warm
Weather, naked."
AN APOLOGY FOR PRINTERS
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, June 10, 1731.]
Being frequently censur'd and condemn'd by different Persons
for printing Things which they say ought not to be printed,
I have sometimes thought it might be necessary to make a standing
Apology for my self, and publish it once a Year, to be read
upon all Occasions of that Nature. Much Business has hitherto
hindered the execution of this Design; but having very lately
given extraordinary Offence by printing an Advertisement with[164]
a certain N. B. at the End of it, I find an Apology more particularly
requisite at this Juncture, tho' it happens when I have not
yet Leisure to write such a Thing in the proper Form, and can
only in a loose manner throw those Considerations together
which should have been the Substance of it.
I request all who are angry with me on the Account of printing
things they don't like, calmly to consider these following
Particulars.
1. That the Opinions of Men are almost as various as their
Faces; an Observation general enough to become a common
Proverb, So many Men so many Minds.
2. That the Business of Printing has chiefly to do with Mens
Opinions; most things that are printed tending to promote
some, or oppose others.
3. That hence arises the peculiar Unhappiness of that Business,
which other Callings are no way liable to; they who follow
Printing being scarce able to do any thing in their way of getting
a Living, which shall not probably give Offence to some, and
perhaps to many; whereas the Smith, the Shoemaker, the Carpenter,
or the Man of any other Trade, may work indifferently
for People of all Persuasions, without offending any of them:
and the Merchant may buy and sell with Jews, Turks, Hereticks
and Infidels of all sorts, and get Money by every one of them,
without giving Offence to the most orthodox, of any sort; or
suffering the least Censure or Ill will on the Account from any
Man whatever.
4. That it is as unreasonable in any one Man or Set of Men
to expect to be pleas'd with every thing that is printed, as to
think that nobody ought to be pleas'd but themselves.
5. Printers are educated in the Belief, that when Men differ
in Opinion, both Sides ought equally to have the Advantage
of being heard by the Publick; and that when Truth and Error
have fair Play, the former is always an overmatch for the latter:
Hence they chearfully serve all contending Writers that pay
them well, without regarding on which side they are of the
Question in Dispute.
6. Being thus continually employ'd in serving both Parties,[165]
Printers naturally acquire a vast Unconcernedness as to the
right or wrong Opinions contain'd in what they print; regarding
it only as the Matter of their daily labour: They print things full
of Spleen and Animosity, with the utmost Calmness and Indifference,
and without the least Ill-will to the Persons reflected
on; who nevertheless unjustly think the Printer as much their
Enemy as the Author, and join both together in their Resentment.
7. That it is unreasonable to imagine Printers approve of
every thing they print, and to censure them on any particular
thing accordingly; since in the way of their Business they print
such great variety of things opposite and contradictory. It is
likewise as unreasonable what some assert, "That Printers ought
not to print any Thing but what they approve;" since if all of
that Business should make such a Resolution, and abide by it,
an End would thereby be put to Free Writing, and the World
would afterwards have nothing to read but what happen'd to
be the Opinions of Printers.
8. That if all Printers were determin'd not to print any thing
till they were sure it would offend no body, there would be
very little printed.
9. That if they sometimes print vicious or silly things not
worth reading, it may not be because they approve such things
themselves, but because the People are so viciously and corruptly
educated that good things are not encouraged. I have
known a very numerous Impression of Robin Hood's Songs go
off in this Province at 2s. per Book, in less than a Twelvemonth;
when a small Quantity of David's Psalms (an excellent Version)
have lain upon my Hands above twice the Time.
10. That notwithstanding what might be urg'd in behalf of
a Man's being allow'd to do in the Way of his Business whatever
he is paid for, yet Printers do continually discourage the Printing
of great Numbers of bad things, and stifle them in the Birth.
I my self have constantly refused to print anything that might
countenance Vice, or promote Immorality; tho' by complying
in such Cases with the corrupt Taste of the Majority I might
have got much Money. I have also always refus'd to print such[166]
things as might do real Injury to any Person, how much soever
I have been solicited, and tempted with Offers of Great Pay;
and how much soever I have by refusing got the Ill-will of those
who would have employ'd me. I have hitherto fallen under the
Resentment of large Bodies of Men, for refusing absolutely to
print any of their Party or Personal Reflections. In this Manner
I have made my self many Enemies, and the constant Fatigue
of denying is almost insupportable. But the Publick being unacquainted
with all this, whenever the poor Printer happens
either through Ignorance or much Persuasion, to do any thing
that is generally thought worthy of Blame, he meets with no
more Friendship or Favour on the above Account, than if there
were no Merit in't at all. Thus, as Waller says,
Poets lose half the Praise they would have got
Were it but known what they discreetly blot;
Yet are censur'd for every bad Line found in their Works with
the utmost Severity.
I come now to the Particular Case of the N. B. above mention'd,
about which there has been more Clamour against me,
than ever before on any other Account.—In the Hurry of other
Business an Advertisement was brought to me to be printed;
it signified that such a Ship lying at such a Wharff, would sail
for Barbadoes in such a Time, and that Freighters and Passengers
might agree with the Captain at such a Place; so far is
what's common: But at the Bottom this odd Thing was added,
"N. B. No Sea Hens nor Black Gowns will be admitted on any
Terms." I printed it, and receiv'd my Money; and the Advertisement
was stuck up round the Town as usual. I had not so
much Curiosity at that time as to enquire the Meaning of it, nor
did I in the least imagine it would give so much Offence. Several
good Men are very angry with me on this Occasion; they
are pleas'd to say I have too much Sense to do such things ignorantly;
that if they were Printers they would not have done
such a thing on any Consideration; that it could proceed from
nothing but my abundant Malice against Religion and the
Clergy. They therefore declare they will not take any more of[167]
my Papers, nor have any farther Dealings with me; but will
hinder me of all the Custom they can. All this is very hard!
I believe it had been better if I had refused to print the said
Advertisement. However, 'tis done, and cannot be revok'd. I
have only the following few Particulars to offer, some of them
in my behalf, by way of Mitigation, and some not much to the
Purpose; but I desire none of them may be read when the Reader
is not in a very good Humour.
1. That I really did it without the least Malice, and imagin'd
the N. B. was plac'd there only to make the Advertisement
star'd at, and more generally read.
2. That I never saw the Word Sea-Hens before in my Life;
nor have I yet ask'd the meaning of it; and tho' I had certainly
known that Black Gowns in that place signified the Clergy of
the Church of England, yet I have that confidence in the generous
good Temper of such of them as I know, as to be well
satisfied such a trifling mention of their Habit gives them no Disturbance.
3. That most of the Clergy in this and the neighbouring
Provinces, are my Customers, and some of them my very good
Friends; and I must be very malicious indeed, or very stupid, to
print this thing for a small Profit, if I had thought it would
have given them just Cause of Offence.
4. That if I had much Malice against the Clergy, and withal
much Sense; 'tis strange I never write or talk against the Clergy
myself. Some have observed that 'tis a fruitful Topic, and the
easiest to be witty upon of all others; yet I appeal to the Publick
that I am never guilty this way, and to all my Acquaintances
as to my Conversation.
5. That if a Man of Sense had Malice enough to desire to
injure the Clergy, this is the foolishest Thing he could possibly
contrive for that Purpose.
6. That I got Five Shillings by it.
7. That none who are angry with me would have given me
so much to let it alone.
8. That if all the People of different Opinions in this Province
would engage to give me as much for not printing things[168]
they don't like, as I can get by printing them, I should probably
live a very easy Life; and if all Printers were everywhere so dealt
by, there would be very little printed.
9. That I am oblig'd to all who take my Paper, and am
willing to think they do it out of meer Friendship. I only
desire they would think the same when I deal with them. I
thank those who leave off, that they have taken it so long. But
I beg they would not endeavour to dissuade others, for that
will look like Malice.
10. That 'tis impossible any Man should know what he
would do if he was a Printer.
11. That notwithstanding the Rashness and Inexperience of
Youth, which is most likely to be prevail'd with to do things
that ought not to be done; yet I have avoided printing such
Things as usually give Offence either to Church or State, more
than any Printer that has followed the Business in this Province
before.
12. And lastly, That I have printed above a Thousand Advertisements
which made not the least mention of Sea-Hens or
Black Gowns, and this being the first Offence, I have the more
Reason to expect Forgiveness.
I take leave to conclude with an old Fable, which some of
my Readers have heard before, and some have not.
"A certain well-meaning Man and his Son, were travelling
towards a Market Town, with an Ass which they had to sell.
The Road was bad; and the old Man therefore rid, but the Son
went a-foot. The first Passenger they met, asked the Father if
he was not ashamed to ride by himself, and suffer the poor Lad
to wade along thro' the Mire; this induced him to take up his
Son behind him: He had not travelled far, when he met others,
who said, they are two unmerciful Lubbers to get both on the
Back of that poor Ass, in such a deep Road. Upon this the old
Man gets off, and let his Son ride alone. The next they met
called the Lad a graceless, rascally young Jackanapes, to ride in
that Manner thro' the Dirt, while his aged Father trudged along
on Foot; and they said the old Man was a Fool, for suffering it.
He then bid his Son come down, and walk with him, and they[169]
travell'd on leading the Ass by the Halter; 'till they met another
Company, who called them a Couple of senseless Blockheads,
for going both on Foot in such a dirty Way, when they had
an empty Ass with them, which they might ride upon. The
old Man could bear no longer; My Son, said he, it grieves me
much that we cannot please all these People. Let me throw the
Ass over the next Bridge, and be no further troubled with him."
Had the old Man been seen acting this last Resolution, he
would probably have been called a Fool for troubling himself
about the different Opinions of all that were pleas'd to find
Fault with him: Therefore, tho' I have a Temper almost as
complying as his, I intend not to imitate him in this last Particular.
I consider the Variety of Humors among Men, and
despair of pleasing every Body; yet I shall not therefore leave
off Printing. I shall continue my Business. I shall not burn
my Press and melt my Letters.
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD, 1733
Courteous Reader,
I might in this place attempt to gain thy Favour, by declaring
that I write Almanacks with no other View than that of the
publick Good; but in this I should not be sincere; and Men are
now adays too wise to be deceiv'd by Pretences how specious
soever. The plain Truth of the Matter is, I am excessive poor,
and my Wife, good Woman, is, I tell her, excessive proud; she
cannot bear, she says, to sit spinning in her Shift of Tow, while
I do nothing but gaze at the Stars; and has threatned more than
once to burn all my Books and Rattling-Traps (as she calls my
Instruments) if I do not make some profitable Use of them for
the Good of my Family. The Printer has offer'd me some considerable
share of the Profits, and I have thus begun to comply
with my Dame's Desire.
Indeed this Motive would have had Force enough to have
made me publish an Almanack many Years since, had it not
been overpowered by my Regard for my good Friend and
Fellow Student Mr. Titan Leeds, whose Interest I was extreamly[170]
unwilling to hurt: But this Obstacle (I am far from speaking it
with Pleasure) is soon to be removed, since inexorable Death,
who was never known to respect Merit, has already prepared
the mortal Dart, the fatal Sister has already extended her destroying
Shears, and that ingenious Man must soon be taken
from us. He dies, by my Calculation made at his Request, on
Oct. 17. 1733. 3 h. 29 m. P. M. at the very instant of the ☌
of ☉ and ☿: By his own Calculation he will survive till the
26th of the same Month.[26] This small Difference between us
we have disputed whenever we have met these 9 Years past;
but at length he is inclinable to agree with my Judgment: Which
of us is most exact, a little Time will now determine. As therefore
these Provinces may not longer expect to see any of his
Performances after this Year, I think my self free to take up
the Task, and request a share of the publick Encouragement;
which I am the more apt to hope for on this Account, that the
Buyer of my Almanack may consider himself, not only as purchasing
an useful Utensil, but as performing an Act of Charity,
to his poor Friend and Servant
R. Saunders.
A MEDITATION ON A QUART MUGG[27]
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 19, 1733.]
Wretched, miserable, and unhappy Mug! I pity thy luckless
Lot, I commiserate thy Misfortunes, thy Griefs fill me with
Compassion, and because of thee are Tears made frequently to
burst from my Eyes.
How often have I seen him compell'd to hold up his Handle
at the Bar, for no other Crime than that of being empty; then
snatch'd away by a surly Officer, and plung'd suddenly into a
Tub of cold Water: Sad Spectacle, and Emblem of human Penury,
oppress'd by arbitrary Power! How often is he hurry'd
down into a dismal Vault, sent up fully laden in a cold Sweat,
and by a rude Hand thrust into the Fire! How often have I seen
it obliged to undergo the Indignities of a dirty Wench; to have[171]
melting Candles dropt on its naked Sides, and sometimes in its
Mouth, to risque being broken into a thousand Pieces, for
Actions which itself was not guilty of! How often is he forced
into the Company of boisterous Sots, who lay all their nonsence,
Noise, profane Swearing, Cursing, and Quarreling, on the
harmless Mug, which speaks not a Word! They overset him,
maim him, and sometimes turn him to Arms offensive or defensive,
as they please; when of himself he would not be of
either Party, but would as willingly stand still. Alas! what
Power, or Place, is provided, where this poor Mug, this unpitied
Slave, can have Redress of his Wrongs and Sufferings? Or
where shall he have a Word of Praise bestow'd on him for his
Well doings, and faithful Services? If he prove of a large size,
his Owner curses him, and says he will devour more than he'll
earn: If his Size be small, those whom his Master appoints him
to serve will curse him as much, and perhaps threaten him with
the Inquisition of the Standard. Poor Mug, unfortunate is thy
Condition! Of thy self thou wouldst do no Harm, but much
Harm is done with thee! Thou art accused of many Mischiefs;
thou art said to administer Drunkenness, Poison, and broken
Heads: But none praise thee for the good Things thou yieldest!
Shouldest thou produce double Beer, nappy Ale, stallcop Cyder,
or Cyder mull'd, fine Punch, or cordial Tiff; yet for all these
shouldst thou not be prais'd, but the rich Liquors themselves,
which tho' within thee, will be said to be foreign to thee! And
yet, so unhappy is thy Destiny, thou must bear all their Faults
and Abominations! Hast thou been industriously serving thy
Employers with Tiff or Punch, and instantly they dispatch thee
for Cyder, then must thou be abused for smelling of Rum.
Hast thou been steaming their Noses gratefully, with mull'd
Cyder or butter'd Ale, and then offerest to refresh their Palates
with the best of Beer, they will curse thee for thy Greasiness.
And how, alas! can thy Service be rendered more tolerable to
thee? If thou submittest thyself to a Scouring in the Kitchen,
what must thou undergo from sharp Sand, hot Ashes, and a
coarse Dishclout; besides the Danger of having thy Lips rudely
torn, thy Countenance disfigured, thy Arms dismantled, and[172]
thy whole Frame shatter'd, with violent Concussions in an Iron
Pot or Brass Kettle! And yet, O Mug! if these Dangers thou
escapest, with little Injury, thou must at last untimely fall, be
broken to Pieces, and cast away, never more to be recollected
and form'd into a Quart Mug. Whether by the Fire, or in a
Battle, or choak'd with a Dishclout, or by a Stroke against a
Stone, thy Dissolution happens; 'tis all alike to thy avaritious
Owner; he grieves not for thee, but for the Shilling with which
he purchased thee! If thy Bottom Part should chance to survive,
it may be preserv'd to hold bits of Candles, or Blacking for
Shoes, or Salve for kibed Heels; but all thy other Members will
be for ever buried in some miry Hole; or less carefully disposed
of, so that little Children, who have not yet arrived to Acts of
Cruelty, may gather them up to furnish out their Baby Houses:
Or, being cast upon the Dunghill, they will therewith be
carted into Meadow Grounds; where, being spread abroad and
discovered, they must be thrown to the Heap of Stones, Bones
and Rubbish; or being left until the Mower finds them with his
Scythe, they will with bitter Curses be tossed over the Hedge;
and so serve for unlucky Boys to throw at Birds and Dogs;
until by Length of Time and numerous Casualties, they shall be
press'd into their Mother Earth, and be converted to their
original Principles.
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD, 1734
Courteous Readers,
Your kind and charitable Assistance last Year, in purchasing
so large an Impression of my Almanacks, has made my Circumstances
much more easy in the World, and requires my grateful
Acknowledgment. My Wife has been enabled to get a Pot of
her own, and is no longer oblig'd to borrow one from a Neighbour;
nor have we ever since been without something of our
own to put in it. She has also got a pair of Shoes, two new
Shifts, and a new warm Petticoat; and for my part, I have
bought a second-hand Coat, so good, that I am now not
asham'd to go to Town or be seen there. These Things have[173]
render'd her Temper so much more pacifick than it us'd to be,
that I may say, I have slept more, and more quietly within this
last Year, than in the three foregoing Years put together.
Accept my hearty Thanks therefor, and my sincere Wishes for
your Health and Prosperity.
In the Preface to my last Almanack, I foretold the Death of
my dear old Friend and Fellow-Student, the learned and ingenious
Mr. Titan Leeds, which was to be on the 17th of
October, 1733, 3 h. 29 m. P. M. at the very Instant of the ☌ of ☉
and ☿. By his own Calculation he was to survive till the 26th
of the same Month, and expire in the Time of the Eclipse, near
11 o'clock A. M. At which of these Times he died, or whether
he be really yet dead, I cannot at this present Writing positively
assure my Readers; forasmuch as a Disorder in my own Family
demanded my Presence, and would not permit me as I had
intended, to be with him in his last Moments, to receive his last
Embrace, to close his Eyes, and do the Duty of a Friend in performing
the last Offices to the Departed. Therefore it is that I
cannot positively affirm whether he be dead or not; for the
Stars only show to the Skilful, what will happen in the natural
and universal Chain of Causes and Effects; but 'tis well known,
that the Events which would otherwise certainly happen at
certain Times in the Course of Nature are sometimes set aside
or postpon'd for wise and good Reasons by the immediate
particular Dispositions of Providence; which particular Dispositions
the Stars can by no Means discover or foreshow. There is
however (and I cannot speak it without Sorrow) there is the
strongest Probability that my dear Friend is no more; for there
appears in his Name, as I am assured, an Almanack for the Year
1734, in which I am treated in a very gross and unhandsome
Manner; in which I am called a false Predicter, an Ignorant, a
conceited Scribler, a Fool, and a Lyar. Mr. Leeds was too well
bred to use any Man so indecently and so scurrilously, and
moreover his Esteem and Affection for me was extraordinary:
So that it is to be feared that Pamphlet may be only a Contrivance
of somebody or other, who hopes perhaps to sell two
or three Year's Almanacks still, by the sole Force and Virtue[174]
of Mr. Leeds's Name; but certainly, to put Words into the
Mouth of a Gentleman and a Man of Letters, against his Friend,
which the meanest and most scandalous of the People might be
asham'd to utter even in a drunken Quarrel, is an unpardonable
Injury to his Memory, and an Imposition upon the Publick.
Mr. Leeds was not only profoundly skilful in the useful
Science he profess'd, but he was a Man of exemplary Sobriety, a
most sincere Friend, and an exact Performer of his Word. These
valuable Qualifications, with many others so much endear'd
him to me, that although it should be so, that, contrary to all
Probability, contrary to my Prediction and his own, he might
possibly be yet alive, yet my Loss of Honour as a Prognosticator,
cannot afford me so much Mortification, as his Life, Health
and Safety would give me Joy and Satisfaction.
I am, Courteous and Kind Reader
Your poor Friend and Servant,
R. Saunders.
Octob. 30. 1733.
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD, 1735
Courteous Reader,
This is the third Time of my appearing in print, hitherto
very much to my own Satisfaction, and, I have reason to hope,
to the Satisfaction of the Publick also; for the Publick is generous,
and has been very charitable and good to me. I should
be ungrateful then, if I did not take every Opportunity of expressing
my Gratitude; for ingratum si dixeris, omnia dixeris: I
therefore return the Publick my most humble and hearty
Thanks.
Whatever may be the Musick of the Spheres, how great soever
the Harmony of the Stars, 'tis certain there is no Harmony
among the Stargazers; but they are perpetually growling and
snarling at one another like strange Curs, or like some Men at
their Wives: I had resolved to keep the Peace on my own part,
and affront none of them; and I shall persist in that Resolution:
But having receiv'd much Abuse from Titan Leeds deceas'd
(Titan Leeds when living would not have us'd me so!) I say,[175]
having receiv'd much Abuse from the Ghost of Titan Leeds,
who pretends to be still living, and to write Almanacks in
Spight of me and my Predictions, I cannot help saying, that
tho' I take it patiently, I take it very unkindly. And whatever
he may pretend, 'tis undoubtedly true that he is really defunct
and dead. First because the Stars are seldom disappointed,
never but in the Case of wise Men, sapiens dominabitur astris,
and they foreshow'd his Death at the Time I predicted it.
Secondly, 'Twas requisite and necessary he should die punctually
at that Time, for the Honour of Astrology, the Art
professed both by him and his Father before him. Thirdly,
'Tis plain to every one that reads his last two Almanacks (for
1734 and 35) that they are not written with that Life his Performances
use to be written with; the Wit is low and flat, the
little Hints dull and spiritless, nothing smart in them but
Hudibras's Verses against Astrology at the Heads of the Months
in the last, which no Astrologer but a dead one would have
inserted, and no Man living would or could write such Stuff as
the rest. But lastly I convince him in his own Words, that he is
dead (ex ore suo condemnatus est) for in his Preface to his
Almanack for 1734, he says "Saunders adds another gross
Falshood in his Almanack, viz. that by my own Calculation
I shall survive until the 26th of the said Month October 1733,
which is as untrue as the former." Now if it be, as Leeds says,
untrue and a gross Falshood that he surviv'd till the 26th of
October 1733, then it is certainly true that he died before that
Time: And if he died before that Time, he is dead now, to all
Intents and Purposes, any thing he may say to the contrary
notwithstanding. And at what Time before the 26th is it so
likely he should die, as at the Time by me predicted, viz. the
17th of October aforesaid? But if some People will walk and
be troublesome after Death, it may perhaps be born with a
little, because it cannot well be avoided unless one would be at
the Pains and Expence of laying them in the Red Sea; however,
they should not presume too much upon the Liberty allow'd
them; I know Confinement must needs be mighty irksome to
the free Spirit of an Astronomer, and I am too compassionate[176]
to proceed suddenly to Extremities with it; nevertheless, tho'
I resolve with Reluctance, I shall not long defer, if it does not
speedily learn to treat its living Friends with better Manners,
I am, Courteous Reader, your obliged Friend and Servant
R. Saunders.
Octob. 30. 1734
HINTS FOR THOSE THAT WOULD BE RICH
[October, 1736—From Poor Richard, 1737]
The Use of Money is all the Advantage there is in having
Money.
For £6 a Year you may have the Use of £100 if you are a
Man of known Prudence and Honesty.
He that spends a Groat a day idly, spends idly above £6 a
year, which is the Price of using £100.
He that wastes idly a Groat's worth of his Time per Day,
one Day with another, wastes the Privilege of using £100
each Day.
He that idly loses 5s. worth of time, loses 5s. and might as
prudently throw 5s. in the River.
He that loses 5s. 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, amounts to a comfortable
Bag 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 like 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 any Thing he has bought, pays Interest for the Use
of it.
Consider then when you are tempted to buy any unnecessary
Householdstuff, or any superfluous thing, whether you will be
willing to pay Interest, and Interest upon Interest for it as long
as you live; and more if it grows worse by using.[177]
Yet, in buying goods, 'tis best to pay Ready Money, because,
He that sells upon Credit, expects to lose 5 per Cent by bad
Debts; therefore he charges, on all he sells upon Credit, an
Advance that shall make up for 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 sav'd is Twopence clear,
A Pin a Day is a Groat a Year.
TO JOSIAH FRANKLIN[28]
Philadelphia, April 13, 1738.
Honoured Father,
I have your favours of the 21st of March, in which you both
seem concerned lest I have imbibed some erroneous opinions.
Doubtless I have my share; and when the natural weakness and
imperfection of human understanding is considered, the unavoidable
influence of education, custom, books, and company
upon our ways of thinking, I imagine a man must have a good
deal of vanity who believes, and a good deal of boldness who
affirms, that all the doctrines he holds are true, and all he rejects
are false. And perhaps the same may be justly said of every
sect, church, and society of men, when they assume to themselves
that infallibility, which they deny to the Pope and
councils.
I think opinions should be judged of by their influences and
effects; and, if a man holds none that tend to make him less
virtuous or more vicious, it may be concluded he holds none
that are dangerous; which I hope is the case with me.
I am sorry you should have any uneasiness on my account;
and if it were a thing possible for one to alter his opinions in
order to please another, I know none whom I ought more willingly
to oblige in that respect than yourselves. But, since it is[178]
no more in a man's power to think than to look like another,
methinks all that should be expected from me is to keep my
mind open to conviction, to hear patiently and examine attentively,
whatever is offered me for that end; and, if after all I
continue in the same errors, I believe your usual charity will
induce you to rather pity and excuse, than blame me. In the
mean time your care and concern for me is what I am very
thankful for.
My mother grieves, that one of her sons is an Arian, another
an Arminian. What an Arminian or an Arian is, I cannot say
that I very well know. The truth is, I make such distinctions
very little my study. I think vital religion has always suffered,
when orthodoxy is more regarded than virtue; and the Scriptures
assure me, that at the last day we shall not be examined
what we thought, but what we did; and our recommendation
will not be, that we said, Lord! Lord! but that we did good to
our fellow creatures. See Matt. xxv.
As to the freemasons, I know no way of giving my mother a
better account of them than she seems to have at present, since
it is not allowed that women should be admitted into that
secret society. She has, I must confess, on that account some
reason to be displeased with it; but for any thing else, I must
entreat her to suspend her judgment till she is better informed,
unless she will believe me, when I assure her that they are in
general a very harmless sort of people, and have no principles
or practices that are inconsistent with religion and good
manners.
We have had great rains here lately, which, with the thawing
of snow on the mountains back of our country, have made
vast floods in our rivers, and, by carrying away bridges, boats,
&c., made travelling almost impracticable for a week past; so
that our post has entirely missed making one trip.
I hear nothing of Dr. Crook, nor can I learn any such person
has ever been here.
I hope my sister Jenny's child is by this time recovered. I
am your dutiful son.
B. Franklin.
[179]
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD, 1739
Kind Reader,
Encouraged by thy former Generosity, I once more present
thee with an Almanack, which is the 7th of my Publication.
While thou art putting Pence in my Pocket, and furnishing my
Cottage with necessaries, Poor Dick is not unmindful to do
something for thy Benefit. The Stars are watch'd as narrowly
as old Bess watch'd her Daughter, that thou mayst be acquainted
with their Motions, and told a Tale of their Influences and
Effects, which may do thee more good than a Dream of last
Year's Snow.
Ignorant Men wonder how we Astrologers foretell the
Weather so exactly, unless we deal with the old black Devil.
Alas! 'tis as easy as ****** For Instance; The Stargazer peeps at
the Heavens thro' a long Glass: He sees perhaps Taurus, or
the great Bull, in a mighty Chafe, stamping on the Floor of his
House, swinging his Tail about, stretching out his Neck, and
opening wide his Mouth. 'Tis natural from these Appearances
to judge that this furious Bull is puffing, blowing and roaring.
Distance being consider'd and Time allow'd for all this to
come down, there you have Wind and Thunder. He spies perhaps
Virgo (or the Virgin;) she turns her Head round as it
were to see if any body observ'd her; then crouching down
gently, with her Hands on her Knees, she looks wistfully for a
while right forward. He judges rightly what she's about: And
having calculated the Distance and allow'd Time for its Falling,
finds that next Spring we shall have a fine April shower. What
can be more natural and easy than this? I might instance the
like in many other particulars; but this may be sufficient to
prevent our being taken for Conjurors. O the wonderful
Knowledge to be found in the Stars! Even the smallest Things
are written there, if you had but Skill to read: When my
Brother J-m-n erected a Scheme to know which was best for
his sick Horse, to sup a new-laid Egg, or a little Broth, he found
that the Stars plainly gave their Verdict for Broth, and the[180]
Horse having sup'd his Broth;—Now, what do you think became
of that Horse? You shall know in my next.
Besides the usual Things expected in an Almanack, I hope
the profess'd Teachers of Mankind will excuse my scattering
here and there some instructive Hints in Matters of Morality
and Religion. And be not thou disturbed, O grave and sober
Reader, if among the many serious Sentences in my Book, thou
findest me trifling now and then, and talking idly. In all the
Dishes I have hitherto cook'd for thee, there is solid Meat
enough for thy Money. There are Scraps from the Table of
Wisdom, that will if well digested, yield strong Nourishment to
thy Mind. But squeamish Stomachs cannot eat without Pickles;
which, 'tis true are good for nothing else, but they provoke an
Appetite. The Vain Youth that reads my Almanack for the
sake of an idle Joke, will perhaps meet with a serious Reflection,
that he may ever after be the better for.
Some People observing the great Yearly Demand for my
Almanack, imagine I must by this Time have become rich, and
consequently ought to call myself Poor Dick no longer. But,
the Case is this,
When I first begun to publish, the Printer made a fair Agreement
with me for my Copies, by Virtue of which he runs away
with the greatest Part of the Profit.—However, much good
may't do him; I do not grudge it him; he is a Man I have a great
Regard for, and I wish his Profit ten times greater than it is.
For I am, dear Reader, his, as well as thy
Affectionate Friend
R. Saunders.
A PROPOSAL
FOR PROMOTING USEFUL KNOWLEDGE AMONG THE
BRITISH PLANTATIONS IN AMERICA
Philadelphia, May 14, 1743.
The English are possessed of a long tract of continent, from
Nova Scotia to Georgia, extending north and south through
different climates, having different soils, producing different[181]
plants, mines, and minerals, and capable of different improvements,
manufactures, &c.
The first drudgery of settling new colonies, which confines
the attention of people to mere necessaries, is now pretty well
over; and there are many in every province in circumstances
that set them at ease, and afford leisure to cultivate the finer
arts and improve the common stock of knowledge. To such of
these who are men of speculation, many hints must from time
to time arise, many observations occur, which if well examined,
pursued, and improved, might produce discoveries to the
advantage of some or all of the British plantations, or to the
benefit of mankind in general.
But as from the extent of the country such persons are widely
separated, and seldom can see and converse or be acquainted
with each other, so that many useful particulars remain uncommunicated,
die with the discoverers, and are lost to mankind;
it is, to remedy this inconvenience for the future, proposed,
That one society be formed of virtuosi or ingenious men,
residing in the several colonies, to be called The American
Philosophical Society, who are to maintain a constant correspondence.
That Philadelphia, being the city nearest the centre of the
continent colonies, communicating with all of them northward
and southward by post, and with all the islands by sea, and
having the advantage of a good growing library, be the centre
of the Society.
That at Philadelphia there be always at least seven members,
viz. a physician, a botanist, a mathematician, a chemist, a mechanician,
a geographer, and a general natural philosopher, besides
a president, treasurer, and secretary.
That these members meet once a month, or oftener, at their
own expense, to communicate to each other their observations
and experiments, to receive, read, and consider such letters,
communications, or queries as shall be sent from distant members;
to direct the dispersing of copies of such communications
as are valuable, to other distant members, in order to procure
their sentiments thereupon.[182]
That the subjects of the correspondence be: all new-discovered
plants, herbs, trees, roots, their virtues, uses, &c.;
methods of propagating them, and making such as are useful,
but particular to some plantations, more general; improvements
of vegetable juices, as ciders, wines, &c.; new methods of curing
or preventing diseases; all new-discovered fossils in different
countries, as mines, minerals, and quarries; new and useful
improvements in any branch of mathematics; new discoveries in
chemistry, such as improvements in distillation, brewing, and
assaying of ores; new mechanical inventions for saving labour,
as mills and carriages, and for raising and conveying of water,
draining of meadows, &c.; all new arts, trades, and manufactures,
that may be proposed or thought of; surveys, maps, and
charts of particular parts of the sea-coasts or inland countries;
course and junction of rivers and great roads, situation of lakes
and mountains, nature of the soil and productions; new methods
of improving the breed of useful animals; introducing other
sorts from foreign countries; new improvements in planting,
gardening, and clearing land; and all philosophical experiments
that let light into the nature of things, tend to increase the power
of man over matter, and multiply the conveniences or pleasures
of life.
That a correspondence, already begun by some intended
members, shall be kept up by this Society with the Royal
Society of London, and with the Dublin Society.
That every member shall have abstracts sent him quarterly,
of every thing valuable communicated to the Society's Secretary
at Philadelphia; free of all charge except the yearly
payment hereafter mentioned.
That, by permission of the postmaster-general, such communications
pass between the Secretary of the Society and the
members, postage-free.
That, for defraying the expense of such experiments as the
Society shall judge proper to cause to be made, and other contingent
charges for the common good, every member send a
piece of eight per annum to the treasurer, at Philadelphia, to
form a common stock, to be disbursed by order of the President[183]
with the consent of the majority of the members that can conveniently
be consulted thereupon, to such persons and places
where and by whom the experiments are to be made, and otherwise
as there shall be occasion; of which disbursements an exact
account shall be kept, and communicated yearly to every
member.
That, at the first meetings of the members at Philadelphia,
such rules be formed for regulating their meetings and transactions
for the general benefit, as shall be convenient and
necessary; to be afterwards changed and improved as there
shall be occasion, wherein due regard is to be had to the advice
of distant members.
That, at the end of every year, collections be made and
printed, of such experiments, discoveries, and improvements, as
may be thought of public advantage; and that every member
have a copy sent him.
That the business and duty of the Secretary be to receive all
letters intended for the Society, and lay them before the President
and members at their meetings; to abstract, correct, and
methodize such papers as require it, and as he shall be directed
to do by the President, after they have been considered, debated,
and digested in the Society; to enter copies thereof in the
Society's books, and make out copies for distant members; to
answer their letters by direction of the President, and keep
records of all material transactions of the Society.
Benjamin Franklin, the writer of this Proposal, offers himself
to serve the Society as their secretary, till they shall be provided
with one more capable.
SHAVERS AND TRIMMERS
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, June 23, 1743.]
Alexander Miller, Peruke-maker, in Second-street, Philadelphia,
takes Opportunity to acquaint his Customers, that he
intends to leave off the Shaving Business after the 22d of
August next.[184]
To Mr. Franklin
Sir,
It is a common Observation among the People of Great
Britain and Ireland, that the Barbers are reverenced by the lower
Classes of the Inhabitants of those Kingdoms, and in the more
remote Parts of those Dominions, as the sole Oracles of Wisdom
and Politicks. This at first View seems to be owing to the
odd Bent of Mind and peculiar Humour of the People of those
Nations: But if we carry this Observation into other Parts, we
shall find the same Passion equally prevalent throughout the
whole civilized World; and discover in every little Market-Town
and Village the 'Squire, the Exciseman, and even the
Parson himself, listening with as much Attention to a Barber's
News, as they would to the profound Revelations of a Chancellor
of the Exchequer, or principal Secretary of State.
Antiquity likewise will furnish us with many Confirmations
of the Truth of what I have here asserted. Among the old
Romans the Barbers were understood to be exactly of the same
Complection I have here described. I shall not trouble your
Readers with a Multitude of Examples taken from Antiquity. I
shall only quote one Passage in Horace, which may serve to
illustrate the Whole, and is as follows.
Strenuus et fortis, causisq; Philippus agendis
Clarus, ab officiis octavam circiter horam
Dum redit: atq; foro nimium distare carinas
Jam grandis natu queritur, conspexit, ut aiunt,
Adrasum quendam vacuâ tonsoris in umbrâ.
Cultello proprios purgantem leniter ungues.
Hor. Epist. Lib. I. 7.
By which we may understand, that the Tonsoris Umbra, or
Barber's Shop, was the common Rendezvous of every idle
Fellow, who had no more to do than to pair his Nails, talk
Politicks, and see, and to be seen.
But to return to the Point in Question. If we would know
why the Barbers are so eminent for their Skill in Politicks, it
will be necessary to lay aside the Appellation of Barber, and
confine ourselves to that of Shaver and Trimmer, which will[185]
naturally lead us to consider the near Relation which subsists
between Shaving, Trimming and Politicks, from whence we
shall discover that Shaving and Trimming is not the Province
of the Mechanic alone, but that there are their several Shavers
and Trimmers at Court, the Bar, in Church and State.
And first, Shaving or Trimming, in a strict mechanical Sense
of the Word, signifies a cutting, sheering, lopping off, and
fleecing us of those Excrescencies of Hair, Nails, Flesh, &c.,
which burthen and disguise our natural Endowments. And is
not the same practised over the whole World, by Men of every
Rank and Station? Does not the corrupt Minister lop off our
Privileges and fleece us of our Money? Do not the Gentlemen
of the long Robe find means to cut off those Excrescencies of
the Nation, Highwaymen, Thieves and Robbers? And to
look into the Church, who has been more notorious for shaving
and fleecing, than that Apostle of Apostles, that Preacher of
Preachers, the Rev. Mr. G. W.?[29] But I forbear making farther
mention of this spiritual Shaver and Trimmer, lest I should
affect the Minds of my Readers as deeply as his Preaching has
affected their Pockets.
The second Species of Shavers and Trimmers are those who,
according to the English Phrase, make the best of a bad Market:
Such as cover (what is called by an eminent Preacher) their poor
Dust in tinsel Cloaths and gaudy Plumes of Feathers. A Star,
and Garter, for Instance, adds Grace, Dignity and Lustre to a
gross corpulent Body; and a competent Share of religious
Horror thrown into the Countenance, with proper Distortions
of the Face, and the Addition of a lank Head of Hair, or a long
Wig and Band, commands a most profound Respect to Insolence
and Ignorance. The Pageantry of the Church of Rome
is too well known for me to instance: It will not however be
amiss to observe, that his Holiness the Pope, when he has a
Mind to fleece his Flock of a good round Sum, sets off the
Matter with Briefs, Pardons, Indulgencies, &c. &c. &c.
The Third and last Kind of Shavers and Trimmers are those
who (in Scripture Language) are carried away with every
Wind of Doctrine. The Vicars of Bray, and those who exchange[186]
their Principles with the Times, may justly be referred
to this Class. But the most odious Shavers and Trimmers of
this Kind, are a certain set of Females, called (by the polite
World) Jilts. I cannot give my Readers a more perfect Idea
of these than by quoting the following Lines of the Poet:
Fatally fair they are, and in their Smiles
The Graces, little Loves, and young Desires inhabit:
But they are false luxurious in their Appetites,
And all the Heav'n they hope for, is Variety.
One Lover to another still succeeds,
Another and another after that,
And the last Fool is welcome as the former;
'Till having lov'd his Hour out, he gives his Place,
And mingles with the Herd that went before him.
Rowe's Fair Penitent.
Lastly, I cannot but congratulate my Neighbours on the
little Favour which is shown to Shavers and Trimmers by the
People of this Province. The Business is at so low an Ebb,
that the worthy Gentleman whose Advertisement I have chosen
for the Motto of my Paper, acquaints us he will leave it off
after the 22d of August next. I am of Opinion that all possible
Encouragement ought to be given to Examples of this Kind,
since it is owing to this that so perfect an Understanding is
cultivated among ourselves, and the Chain of Friendship is
brightened and perpetuated with our good Allies, the Indians.
The Antipathy which these sage Naturalists bear to Shaving
and Trimming, is well known.
I am, Yours, &c.
TO THE PUBLICK
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, June 30, 1743.]
My Paper on Shavers and Trimmers, in the last Gazette, being
generally condemn'd, I at first imputed it to the Want of Taste[187]
and Relish for Pieces of that Force and Beauty, which none but
University-bred Gentlemen can produce: But upon Advice of
Friends, whose Judgment I could depend on, I examined myself
and to my Shame must confess, that I found myself to be an
uncircumcised Jew, whose Excrescencies of Hair, Nails, Flesh,
&c. did burthen and disguise my Natural Endowments; but
having my Hair and Nails since lopp'd off and shorn, and my
fleshly Excrescencies circumcised, I now appear in my wonted
Lustre, and expect a speedy Admission among the Levites,
which I have already the Honour of among the Poets and Natural
Philosophers. I have one Thing more to add, which is,
That I had no real Animosity against the Person whose Advertisement
I made the Motto of my Paper; but (as may appear to
all who have been Big with Pieces of this Kind) what I had
long on my Mind, I at last unburden'd myself of. O! these
JILTS still run in my Mind.
N. B. The Publick perhaps may suppose this Confession
forced upon me; but if they repair to the P—— Pe in Second-street,
they may see Me, or the Original hereof under my own
Hand, and be convinced that this is genuine.
PREFACE TO LOGAN'S TRANSLATION OF
"CATO MAJOR"[30]
The Printer to the Reader
This Version of Cicero's Tract de Senectute, was made Ten
Years since, by the Honourable and Learned Mr. Logan, of this
City; undertaken partly for his own Amusement, (being then
in his 60th Year, which is said to be nearly the Age of the
Author when he wrote it) but principally for the Entertainment
of a Neighbour then in his grand Climacteric; and the Notes
were drawn up solely on that Neighbour's Account, who was
not so well acquainted as himself with the Roman History and
Language: Some other Friends, however, (among whom I had
the Honour to be ranked) obtained Copies of it in MS. And,
as I believed it to be in itself equal at least, if not far preferable[188]
to any other Translation of the same Piece extant in our Language,
besides the Advantage it has of so many valuable Notes,
which at the same time they clear up the Text, are highly instructive
and entertaining; I resolved to give it an Impression,
being confident that the Publick would not unfavourably receive
it.
A certain Freed-man of Cicero's is reported to have said of a
medicinal Well, discovered in his Time, wonderful for the
Virtue of its Waters in restoring Sight to the Aged, That it was
a Gift of the bountiful Gods to Men, to the end that all might
now have the Pleasure of reading his Master's Works. As that
Well, if still in being, is at too great a Distance for our Use, I
have, Gentle Reader, as thou seest, printed this Piece of Cicero's
in a large and fair Character, that those who begin to think on
the Subject of Old Age, (which seldom happens till their Sight
is somewhat impair'd by its Approaches) may not, in Reading,
by the Pain small Letters give the Eyes, feel the Pleasure of the
Mind in the least allayed.
I shall add to these few Lines my hearty Wish, that this first
Translation of a Classic in this Western World, may be followed
with many others, performed with equal Judgment and Success;
and be a happy Omen, that Philadelphia shall become the Seat
of the American Muses.
Philadelphia, Febr. 29. 1743/4.
TO JOHN FRANKLIN, AT BOSTON[31]
Philadelphia [March 10], 1745.
—Our people are extremely impatient to hear of your success
at Cape Breton. My shop is filled with thirty inquirers at the
coming in of every post. Some wonder the place is not yet
taken. I tell them I shall be glad to hear that news three months
hence. Fortified towns are hard nuts to crack; and your teeth
have not been accustomed to it. Taking strong places is a particular
trade, which you have taken up without serving an
apprenticeship to it. Armies and veterans need skilful engineers
to direct them in their attack. Have you any? But some seem[189]
to think forts are as easy taken as snuff. Father Moody's prayers
look tolerably modest. You have a fast and prayer day for that
purpose; in which I compute five hundred thousand petitions
were offered up to the same effect in New England, which
added to the petitions of every family morning and evening,
multiplied by the number of days since January 25th, make
forty-five millions of prayers; which, set against the prayers
of a few priests in the garrison, to the Virgin Mary, give a vast
balance in your favour.
If you do not succeed, I fear I shall have but an indifferent
opinion of Presbyterian prayers in such cases, as long as I live.
Indeed, in attacking strong towns I should have more dependence
on works, than on faith; for, like the kingdom of heaven,
they are to be taken by force and violence; and in a French
garrison I suppose there are devils of that kind, that they are
not to be cast out by prayers and fasting, unless it be by their
own fasting for want of provisions. I believe there is Scripture
in what I have wrote, but I cannot adorn the margin with quotations,
having a bad memory, and no Concordance at hand;
besides no more time than to subscribe myself, &c.
B. Franklin.
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD, 1746
Who is Poor Richard? People oft enquire,
Where lives? What is he? never yet the nigher.
Somewhat to ease your Curiositee,
Take these slight Sketches of my Dame and me.
Thanks to kind Readers and a careful Wife,
With plenty bless'd, I lead an easy Life;
My business Writing; less to drain the Mead,
Or crown the barren Hill with useful Shade;
In the smooth Glebe to see the Plowshare worn,
And fill the Granary with needful Corn.
Press nectareous Cyder from my loaded Trees,
Print the sweet Butter, turn the Drying Cheese.
Some Books we read, tho' few there are that hit
[190]
The happy Point where Wisdom joins with Wit;
That set fair Virtue naked to our View,
And teach us what is decent, what is true.
The Friend sincere, and honest Man, with Joy
Treating or treated oft our Time employ.
Our Table next, Meals temperate; and our Door
Op'ning spontaneous to the bashful Poor.
Free from the bitter Rage of Party Zeal,
All those we love who seek the publick Weal.
Nor blindly follow Superstitious Love,
Which cheats deluded Mankind o'er and o'er,
Not over righteous, quite beyond the Rule,
Conscience perplext by every canting Tool.
Nor yet when Folly hides the dubious Line,
When Good and Bad the blended Colours join:
Rush indiscreetly down the dangerous Steep,
And plunge uncertain in the darksome Deep.
Cautious, if right; if wrong resolv'd to part
The Inmate Snake that folds about the Heart.
Observe the Mean, the Motive, and the End,
Mending ourselves, or striving still to mend.
Our Souls sincere, our Purpose fair and free,
Without Vain Glory or Hypocrisy:
Thankful if well; if ill, we kiss the Rod;
Resign with Hope, and put our Trust in God.
THE SPEECH OF POLLY BAKER[32]
[Printed in the Gentleman's Magazine, April, 1747.]
The Speech of Miss Polly Baker before a Court of Judicature,
at Connecticut near Boston in New England; where she was
prosecuted the fifth time, for having a Bastard Child: Which
influenced the Court to dispense with her Punishment, and
which induced one of her Judges to marry her the next Day—by
whom she had fifteen Children.
[191]
"May it please the honourable bench to indulge me in a few
words: I am a poor, unhappy woman, who have no money to
fee lawyers to plead for me, being hard put to it to get a living. I
shall not trouble your honours with long speeches; for I have
not the presumption to expect that you may, by any means, be
prevailed on to deviate in your Sentence from the law, in my
favour. All I humbly hope is, that your honours would charitably
move the governor's goodness on my behalf, that my fine
may be remitted. This is the fifth time, gentlemen, that I have
been dragg'd before your court on the same account; twice I
have paid heavy fines, and twice have been brought to publick
punishment, for want of money to pay those fines. This may
have been agreeable to the laws, and I don't dispute it; but since
laws are sometimes unreasonable in themselves, and therefore
repealed; and others bear too hard on the subject in particular
circumstances, and therefore there is left a power somewhere
to dispense with the execution of them; I take the liberty to say,
that I think this law, by which I am punished, both unreasonable
in itself, and particularly severe with regard to me, who have
always lived an inoffensive life in the neighbourhood where I
was born, and defy my enemies (if I have any) to say I ever
wrong'd any man, woman, or child. Abstracted from the law,
I cannot conceive (may it please your honours) what the nature
of my offense is. I have brought five fine children into the
world, at the risque of my life; I have maintain'd them well by
my own industry, without burthening the township, and would
have done it better, if it had not been for the heavy charges
and fines I have paid. Can it be a crime (in the nature of things,
I mean) to add to the king's subjects, in a new country, that
really wants people? I own it, I should think it rather a praiseworthy
than a punishable action. I have debauched no other
woman's husband, nor enticed any other youth; these things I
never was charg'd with; nor has any one the least cause of
complaint against me, unless, perhaps, the ministers of justice,
because I have had children without being married, by which
they have missed a wedding fee. But can this be a fault of mine?
I appeal to your honours. You are pleased to allow I don't
want sense; but I must be stupified to the last degree, not to[192]
prefer the honourable state of wedlock to the condition I have
lived in. I always was, and still am willing to enter into it;
and doubt not my behaving well in it, having all the industry,
frugality, fertility, and skill in economy appertaining to a good
wife's character. I defy any one to say I ever refused an offer of
that sort: on the contrary, I readily consented to the only
proposal of marriage that ever was made me, which was when
I was a virgin, but too easily confiding in the person's sincerity
that made it, I unhappily lost my honour by trusting to his;
for he got me with child, and then forsook me.
"That very person, you all know, he is now become a magistrate
of this country; and I had hopes he would have appeared
this day on the bench, and have endeavoured to moderate the
Court in my favour; then I should have scorn'd to have mentioned
it; but I must now complain of it, as unjust and unequal,
that my betrayer and undoer, the first cause of all my faults
and miscarriages (if they must be deemed such), should be
advanced to honour and power in this government that punishes
my misfortunes with stripes and infamy. I should be told, 'tis
like, that were there no act of Assembly in the case, the precepts
of religion are violated by my transgressions. If mine is a
religious offense, leave it to religious punishments. You have
already excluded me from the comforts of your church communion.
Is not that sufficient? You believe I have offended
heaven, and must suffer eternal fire: Will not that be sufficient?
What need is there then of your additional fines and whipping?
I own I do not think as you do, for, if I thought what you call
a sin was really such, I could not presumptuously commit it.
But, how can it be believed that heaven is angry at my having
children, when to the little done by me towards it, God has
been pleased to add his divine skill and admirable workmanship
in the formation of their bodies, and crowned the whole by
furnishing them with rational and immortal souls?
"Forgive me, gentlemen, if I talk a little extravagantly on
these matters; I am no divine, but if you, gentlemen, must be
making laws, do not turn natural and useful actions into crimes
by your prohibitions. But take into your wise consideration[193]
the great and growing number of batchelors in the country,
many of whom, from the mean fear of the expences of a family,
have never sincerely and honourably courted a woman in their
lives; and by their manner of living leave unproduced (which is
little better than murder) hundreds of their posterity to the
thousandth generation. Is not this a greater offense against the
publick good than mine? Compel them, then, by law, either to
marriage, or to pay double the fine of fornication every year.
What must poor young women do, whom customs and nature
forbid to solicit the men, and who cannot force themselves upon
husbands, when the laws take no care to provide them any,
and yet severely punish them if they do their duty without
them; the duty of the first and great command of nature and
nature's God, encrease and multiply; a duty, from the steady
performance of which nothing has been able to deter me, but
for its sake I have hazarded the loss of the publick esteem, and
have frequently endured publick disgrace and punishment;
and therefore ought, in my humble opinion, instead of a whipping,
to have a statue erected to my memory."
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD, 1747
Courteous Reader,
This is the 15th Time I have entertain'd thee with my annual
Productions; I hope to thy Profit as well as mine. For besides
the astronomical Calculations, and other Things usually contain'd
in Almanacks, which have their daily Use indeed while
the Year continues, but then become of no Value, I have constantly
interspers'd moral Sentences, prudent Maxims, and wise
Sayings, many of them containing much good Sense in very few
Words, and therefore apt to leave strong and lasting Impressions
on the Memory of young Persons, whereby they may
receive Benefit as long as they live, when both Almanack and
Almanack-maker have been long thrown by and forgotten. If
I now and then insert a Joke or two, that seem to have little in
them, my Apology is that such may have their Use, since perhaps
for their Sake light airy Minds peruse the rest, and so are[194]
struck by somewhat of more Weight and Moment. The
Verses on the Heads of the Months are also generally design'd
to have the same Tendency. I need not tell thee that not
many of them are of my own Making. If thou hast any Judgment
in Poetry, thou wilt easily discern the Workman from the
Bungler. I know as well as thee, that I am no Poet born; and it
is a Trade I never learnt, nor indeed could learn. If I make
Verses, 'tis in Spight—of Nature and my Stars, I write. Why
then should I give my Readers bad Lines of my own, when
good Ones of other People's are so plenty? 'Tis methinks a
poor Excuse for the bad Entertainment of Guests, that the Food
we set before them, tho' coarse and ordinary, is of one's own
Raising, off one's own Plantation, &c. when there is Plenty of
what is ten times better, to be had in the Market.—On the contrary,
I assure ye, my Friends, that I have procur'd the best I
could for ye, and much Good may't do ye....
I am thy poor Friend, to serve thee,
R. Saunders.
TO PETER COLLINSON
Philada Augt 14, 1747.
Sir
I have lately written two long Letters to you on the Subject
of Electricity, one by the Governor's Vessel, the other per
Mesnard. On some further Experiments since I have observ'd a
Phenomenon or two, that I cannot at present account for on the
Principle laid down in those Letters, and am therefore become
a little diffident of my Hypothesis, and asham'd that I have
express'd myself in so positive a manner. In going on with these
Experiments how many pretty Systems do we build which we
soon find ourselves oblig'd to destroy! If there is no other Use
discover'd of Electricity this however is something considerable,
that it may help to make a vain man humble.
I must now request that you would not Expose those Letters;
or if you communicate them to any Friends you would at[195]
least conceal my Name. I have not Time to add but that I am,
Sir,
Your obliged and most hume Servt
B. Franklin.
PREFACE TO POOR RICHARD IMPROVED, 1748
Kind Reader
The favourable Reception my annual Labours have met
with from the Publick these 15 Years past, has engaged me in
Gratitude to endeavour some Improvements of my Almanack.
And since my Friend Taylor is no more, whose Ephemerides
so long and so agreeably serv'd and entertain'd these Provinces,
I have taken the Liberty to imitate his well-known Method, and
give two Pages for each Month; which affords me Room for
several valuable Additions, as will best appear on Inspection
and Comparison with former Almanacks. Yet I have not so
far follow'd his Method, as not to continue my own when I
thought it preferable; and thus my Book is increas'd to a Size
beyond his, and contains much more Matter.
Hail Night serene! thro' Thee where'er we turn
Our wond'ring Eyes, Heav'n's Lamps profusely burn;
And Stars unnumber'd all the Sky adorn.
But lo!—what's that I see appear?
It seems far off a pointed flame;
From Earthwards too the shining Meteor came:
How swift it climbs th' etherial Space!
And now it traverses each Sphere,
And seems some knowing Mind, familiar to the Place,
Dame, hand my Glass, the longest, strait prepare;
'Tis He—'tis Taylor's Soul, that travels there.
O stay! thou happy Spirit, stay,
And lead me on thro' all th' unbeaten Wilds of Day;
Where Planets in pure Streams of Ether driven,
Swim thro' the blue Expanse of Heav'n.
There let me, thy Companion, stray
From Orb to Orb, and now behold
[196]
Unnumber'd Suns, all Seas of molten Gold,
And trace each Comet's wandring Way.—
Souse down into Prose again, my Muse; for Poetry's no more
thy Element, than Air is that of the Flying-Fish; whose Flights,
like thine, are therefore always short and heavy.—
ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN
[1748]
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
three-pence, and so on till it becomes an 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 an hundred pounds.[197]
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 every thing. 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[198]
whom all should look for a blessing on their honest endeavours,
doth not, in his wise providence, otherwise determine.
An Old Tradesman.
TO GEORGE WHITEFIELD
Philadelphia, July 6, 1749.
Dear Sir
Since your being in England, I have received two of your
favours and a box of books to be disposed of. It gives me
great pleasure to hear of your welfare and that you purpose
soon to return to America.
We have no news here worth writing to you. The affair of
the building remains in statu quo, there having been no new
application to the Assembly about it, or anything done in
consequence of the former.
I have received no money on your account from Mr. Thanklin,
or from Boston. Mrs. Read and your other friends here, in
general, are well, and will rejoice to see you again.
I am glad to hear that you have frequent opportunities of
preaching among the great. If you can gain them to a good and
exemplary life, wonderful changes will follow in the manners of
the lower ranks; for ad exemplum regis, etc. On this principle,
Confucius, the famous Eastern reformer, proceeded. When he
saw his country sunk in vice, and wickedness of all kinds
triumphant, he applied himself first to the grandees; and
having, by his doctrine, won them to the cause of virtue, the
commons followed in multitudes. The mode has a wonderful
influence on mankind; and there are numbers who, perhaps,
fear less the being in hell, than out of the fashion. Our most
western reformations began with the ignorant mob; and when
numbers of them were gained, interest and party views drew
in the wise and great. Where both methods can be used, reformations
are likely to be more speedy. O that some method
could be found to make them lasting! He who discovers that
will, in my opinion, deserve more, ten thousand times, than
the inventor of the longitude.[199]
My wife and family join in the most cordial salutations to you
and good Mrs. Whitefield.
I am, dear Sir, your very affectionate friend, and most
obliged humble Servant
Benjamin Franklin.
PROPOSALS RELATING TO THE EDUCATION OF
YOUTH IN PENSILVANIA
PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED IN THE YEAR, MDCCXLIX[33]
"Advertisement to the Reader.
"It has long been regretted as a Misfortune to the Youth of
this Province, that we have no Academy, in which they
might receive the Accomplishments of a regular Education.
The following Paper of Hints towards forming a Plan for that
Purpose, is so far approv'd by some publick-spirited Gentlemen,
to whom it has been privately communicated, that they
have directed a Number of Copies to be made by the Press,
and properly distributed, in order to obtain the Sentiments and
Advice of Men of Learning, Understanding, and Experience in
these Matters; and have determined to use their Interest and
best Endeavours, to have the Scheme, when compleated,
carried gradually into Execution; in which they have Reason
to believe they shall have the hearty Concurrence and Assistance
of many who are Wellwishers to their Country. Those
who incline to favour the Design with their Advice, either as
to the Parts of Learning to be taught, the Order of Study, the
Method of Teaching, the Œconomy of the School, or any other
Matter of Importance to the Success of the Undertaking, are
desired to communicate their Sentiments as soon as may be, by
Letter directed to B. Franklin, Printer, in Philadelphia."
PROPOSALS
The good Education of Youth has been esteemed by wise
Men in all Ages, as the surest Foundation of the Happiness both
of private Families and of Commonwealths. Almost all[200]
Governments have therefore made it a principal Object of their
Attention, to establish and endow with proper Revenues, such
Seminaries of Learning, as might supply the succeeding Age
with Men qualified to serve the Publick with Honour to themselves,
and to their Country.
Many of the first Settlers of these Provinces were Men who
had received a good Education in Europe, and to their Wisdom
and good Management we owe much of our present Prosperity.
But their Hands were full, and they could not do all
Things. The present Race are not thought to be generally of
equal Ability: For though the American Youth are allow'd not
to want Capacity; yet the best Capacities require Cultivation,
it being truly with them, as with the best Ground, which
unless well tilled and sowed with profitable Seed, produces
only ranker Weeds.
That we may obtain the Advantages arising from an Increase
of Knowledge, and prevent as much as may be the mischievous
Consequences that would attend a general Ignorance among us,
the following Hints are offered towards forming a Plan for the
Education of the Youth of Pennsylvania, viz.
It is propos'd,
That some Persons of Leisure and publick Spirit apply for a
Charter, by which they may be incorporated, with Power
to erect an Academy for the Education of Youth, to govern
the same, provide Masters, make Rules, receive Donations,
purchase Lands, etc., and to add to their Number, from Time
to Time such other Persons as they shall judge suitable.
That the Members of the Corporation make it their Pleasure,
and in some Degree their Business, to visit the Academy
often, encourage and countenance the Youth, countenance
and assist the Masters, and by all Means in their Power advance
the Usefulness and Reputation of the Design; that they look
on the Students as in some Sort their Children, treat them
with Familiarity and Affection, and, when they have behav'd
well, and gone through their Studies, and are to enter the
World, zealously unite, and make all the Interest that can be
made to establish them, whether in Business, Offices, Marriages,[201]
or any other Thing for their Advantage, preferably to all other
Persons whatsoever even of equal Merit.
And if Men may, and frequently do, catch such a Taste for
cultivating Flowers, for Planting, Grafting, Inoculating, and
the like, as to despise all other Amusements for their Sake, why
may not we expect they should acquire a Relish for that more
useful Culture of young Minds. Thompson says,
"'Tis Joy to see the human Blossoms blow,
When infant Reason grows apace, and calls
For the kind Hand of an assiduous Care.
Delightful Task! to rear the tender Thought,
To teach the young Idea how to shoot;
To pour the fresh Instruction o'er the Mind,
To breathe th' enliv'ning Spirit, and to fix
The generous Purpose in the glowing Breast."
That a House be provided for the Academy, if not in the
Town, not many Miles from it; the Situation high and dry, and
if it may be, not far from a River, having a Garden, Orchard,
Meadow, and a Field or two.
That the House be furnished with a Library (if in the Country,
if in the Town, the Town Libraries may serve) with Maps
of all Countries, Globes, some mathematical Instruments, an
Apparatus for Experiments in Natural Philosophy, and for
Mechanics; Prints, of all Kinds, Prospects, Buildings, Machines,
&c.
That the Rector be a Man of good Understanding, good
Morals, diligent and patient, learn'd in the Languages and
Sciences, and a correct pure Speaker and Writer of the English
Tongue; to have such Tutors under him as shall be necessary.
That the boarding Scholars diet together, plainly, temperately,
and frugally.
That, to keep them in Health, and to strengthen and render
active their Bodies, they be frequently exercis'd in Running,
Leaping, Wrestling, and Swimming, &c.
That they have peculiar Habits to distinguish them from
other Youth, if the Academy be in or near the Town; for this,[202]
among other Reasons, that their Behaviour may be the better
observed.
As to their Studies, it would be well if they could be
taught every Thing that is useful, and every Thing that is ornamental:
But Art is long, and their Time is short. It is therefore
propos'd that they learn those Things that are likely to be
most useful and most ornamental. Regard being had to the
several Professions for which they are intended.
All should be taught to write a fair Hand, and swift, as that
is useful to All. And with it may be learnt something of
Drawing, by Imitation of Prints, and some of the first Principles
of Perspective.
Arithmetick, Accounts, and some of the first Principles of
Geometry and Astronomy.
The English Language might be taught by Grammar; in
which some of our best Writers, as Tillotson, Addison, Pope,
Algernoon Sidney, Cato's Letters, &c.; should be Classicks: the
Stiles principally to be cultivated, being the clear and the
concise. Reading should also be taught, and pronouncing,
properly, distinctly, emphatically; not with an even Tone,
which under-does, nor a theatrical, which over-does Nature.
To form their Stile they should be put on Writing Letters
to each other, making Abstracts of what they read; or writing
the same Things in their own Words; telling or writing Stories
lately read, in their own Expressions. All to be revis'd and
corrected by the Tutor, who should give his Reasons, and
explain the Force and Import of Words, &c.
To form their Pronunciation, they may be put on making
Declamations, repeating Speeches, delivering Orations, &c.;
The Tutor assisting at the Rehearsals, teaching, advising,
correcting their Accent, &c.
But if History be made a constant Part of their Reading,
such as the Translations of the Greek and Roman Historians,
and the modern Histories of ancient Greece and Rome, &c. may
not almost all Kinds of useful Knowledge be that Way introduc'd
to Advantage, and with Pleasure to the Student? As
Geography, by reading with Maps, and being required[203]
to point out the Places where the greatest Actions were done, to
give their old and new Names, with the Bounds, Situation,
Extent of the Countries concern'd, &c.
Chronology, by the Help of Helvicus or some other
Writer of the Kind, who will enable them to tell when those
Events happened; what Princes were Cotemporaries, what
States or famous Men flourish'd about that Time, &c. The
several principal Epochas to be first well fix'd in their Memories.
Antient Customs, religious and civil, being frequently
mentioned in History, will give Occasion for explaining them;
in which the Prints of Medals, Basso-Relievos, and antient
Monuments will greatly assist.
Morality, by descanting and making continual Observations
on the Causes of the Rise or Fall of any Man's Character,
Fortune, Power &c. mention'd in History; the Advantages of
Temperance, Order, Frugality, Industry, Perseverance &c., &c.
Indeed the general natural Tendency of Reading good History
must be, to fix in the Minds of Youth deep Impressions of the
Beauty and Usefulness of Virtue of all Kinds, Publick Spirit,
Fortitude, &c.
History will show the wonderful Effects of Oratory, in
governing, turning and leading great Bodies of Mankind,
Armies, Cities, Nations. When the Minds of Youth are struck
with Admiration at this, then is the Time to give them the
Principles of that Art, which they will study with Taste and
Application. Then they may be made acquainted with the best
Models among the antients, their Beauties being particularly
pointed out to them. Modern Political Oratory being chiefly
performed by the Pen and Press, its Advantages over the
Antient in some Respects are to be shown; as that its Effects
are more extensive, more lasting, &c.
History will also afford frequent Opportunities of showing
the Necessity of a Publick Religion, from its Usefulness to the
Publick; the Advantage of a Religious Character among
private Persons; the Mischiefs of Superstition, &c. and the
Excellency of the Christian Religion above all others antient
or modern.[204]
History will also give Occasion to expatiate on the Advantage
of Civil Orders and Constitutions; how Men and their
Properties are protected by joining in Societies and establishing
Government; their Industry encouraged and rewarded, Arts
invented, and Life made more comfortable: The Advantages
of Liberty, Mischiefs of Licentiousness, Benefits arising from
good Laws and a due Execution of Justice, &c. Thus may
the first Principles of sound Politicks be fix'd in the Minds of
Youth.
On Historical Occasions, Questions of Right and Wrong,
Justice and Injustice, will naturally arise, and may be put to
Youth, which they may debate in Conversation and in Writing.
When they ardently desire Victory, for the Sake of the Praise
attending it, they will begin to feel the Want, and be sensible
of the Use of Logic, or the Art of Reasoning to discover Truth,
and of Arguing to defend it, and convince Adversaries. This
would be the Time to acquaint them with the Principles of
that Art. Grotius, Puffendorff, and some other Writers of the
same Kind, may be used on these Occasions to decide their
Disputes. Publick Disputes warm the Imagination, whet the
Industry, and strengthen the natural Abilities.
When Youth are told, that the Great Men whose Lives and
Actions they read in History, spoke two of the best Languages
that ever were, the most expressive, copious, beautiful; and that
the finest Writings, the most correct Compositions, the most
perfect Productions of human Wit and Wisdom, are in those
Languages, which have endured Ages, and will endure while
there are Men; that no Translation can do them Justice, or
give the Pleasure found in Reading the Originals; that those
Languages contain all Science; that one of them is become almost
universal, being the Language of Learned Men in all
Countries; that to understand them is a distinguishing Ornament,
&c. they may be thereby made desirous of learning those
Languages, and their Industry sharpen'd in the Acquisition of
them. All intended for Divinity, should be taught the Latin
and Greek; for Physick, the Latin, Greek, and French; for Law,
the Latin and French; Merchants, the French, German, and[205]
Spanish: And though all should not be compell'd to learn
Latin, Greek, or the modern foreign Languages; yet none that
have an ardent Desire to learn them should be refused; their
English, Arithmetick and other Studies absolutely necessary,
being at the same Time not neglected.
If the new Universal History were also read, it would give a
connected Idea of human Affairs, so far as it goes, which should
be follow'd by the best modern Histories, particularly of our
Mother Country; then of these Colonies; which should be
accompanied with Observations on their Rise, Encrease, Use
to Great Britain, Encouragements, Discouragements, etc. the
Means to make them flourish, secure their Liberties, &c.
With the History of Men, Times, and Nations, should be
read at proper Hours or Days, some of the best Histories of
Nature, which would not only be delightful to Youth, and
furnish them with Matter for their Letters, &c. as well as other
History; but afterwards of great Use to them, whether they are
Merchants, Handicrafts, or Divines; enabling the first the better
to understand many Commodities, Drugs, &c; the second to
improve his Trade or Handicraft by new Mixtures, Materials,
&c., and the last to adorn his Discourses by beautiful Comparisons,
and strengthen them by new Proofs of Divine
Providence. The Conversation of all will be improved by it,
as Occasions frequently occur of making Natural Observations,
which are instructive, agreeable, and entertaining in
almost all Companies. Natural History will also afford Opportunities
of introducing many Observations, relating to the
Preservation of Health, which may be afterwards of great Use.
Arbuthnot on Air and Aliment, Sanctorius on Perspiration,
Lemery on Foods, and some others, may now be read, and a
very little Explanation will make them sufficiently intelligible
to Youth.
While they are reading Natural History, might not a little
Gardening, Planting, Grafting, Inoculating, etc., be taught and
practised; and now and then Excursions made to the neighbouring
Plantations of the best Farmers, their Methods observ'd
and reason'd upon for the Information of Youth? The[206]
Improvement of Agriculture being useful to all, and Skill in
it no Disparagement to any.
The History of Commerce, of the Invention of Arts, Rise of
Manufactures, Progress of Trade, Change of its Seats, with the
Reasons, Causes, &c., may also be made entertaining to Youth,
and will be useful to all. And this, with the Accounts in other
History of the prodigious Force and Effect of Engines and
Machines used in War, will naturally introduce a Desire to be
instructed in Mechanicks, and to be inform'd of the Principles
of that Art by which weak Men perform such Wonders,
Labour is sav'd, Manufactures expedited, &c. This will be the
Time to show them Prints of antient and modern Machines, to
explain them, to let them be copied, and to give Lectures in
Mechanical Philosophy.
With the whole should be constantly inculcated and cultivated,
that Benignity of Mind, which shows itself in searching
for and seizing every Opportunity to serve and to oblige; and is
the Foundation of what is called Good Breeding; highly useful
to the Possessor, and most agreeable to all.
The Idea of what is true Merit should also be often presented
to Youth, explain'd and impress'd on their Minds, as
consisting in an Inclination join'd with an Ability to serve Mankind,
one's Country, Friends and Family; which Ability is
(with the Blessing of God) to be acquir'd or greatly encreas'd
by true Learning; and should indeed be the great Aim and
End of all Learning.
IDEA OF THE ENGLISH SCHOOL
Sketch'd out for the Consideration of the Trustees of
the Philadelphia Academy [1751][34]
It is expected that every Scholar to be admitted into this
School, be at least able to pronounce and divide the Syllables
in Reading, and to write a legible Hand. None to be receiv'd
that are under Years of Age.[207]
FIRST OR LOWEST CLASS
Let the first Class learn the English Grammar Rules, and at
the same time let particular Care be taken to improve them in
Orthography. Perhaps the latter is best done by Pairing the
Scholars, two of those nearest equal in their Spelling to be put
together; let these strive for Victory, each propounding Ten
Words every Day to the other to be spelt. He that spells truly
most of the other's Words, is Victor for that Day; he that is
Victor most Days in a Month, to obtain a Prize, a pretty neat
Book of some Kind useful in their future Studies. This Method
fixes the Attention of Children extreamly to the Orthography
of Words, and makes them good Spellers very early. 'Tis a
Shame for a Man to be so ignorant of this little Art, in his own
Language, as to be perpetually confounding Words of like
Sound and different Significations; the Consciousness of which
Defect, makes some Men, otherwise of good Learning and Understanding,
averse to Writing even a common Letter.
Let the Pieces read by the Scholars in this Class be short,
such as Croxall's Fables,[35] and little Stories. In giving the Lesson,
let it be read to them; let the Meaning of the difficult Words
in it be explained to them, and let them con it over by themselves
before they are called to read to the Master, or Usher;
who is to take particular Care that they do not read too fast,
and that they duly observe the Stops and Pauses. A Vocabulary
of the most usual difficult Words might be formed for their
Use, with Explanations; and they might daily get a few of those
Words and Explanations by Heart, which would a little exercise
their Memories; or at least they might write a Number of them
in a small Book for the Purpose, which would help to fix the
Meaning of those Words in their Minds, and at the same Time
furnish every one with a little Dictionary for his future Use.
THE SECOND CLASS
to be taught Reading with Attention, and with proper Modulations
of the Voice, according to the Sentiments and Subject.
Some short Pieces, not exceeding the Length of a Spectator,[208]
to be given this Class as Lessons (and some of the easier
Spectators would be very suitable for the Purpose.) These
Lessons might be given over Night as Tasks, the Scholars to
study them against the Morning. Let it then be required of
them to give an Account, first of the Parts of Speech, and Construction
of one or two Sentences; this will oblige them to recur
frequently to their Grammar, and fix its principal Rules in their
Memory. Next of the Intention of the Writer, or the Scope of
the Piece; the Meaning of each Sentence, and of every uncommon
Word. This would early acquaint them with the Meaning
and Force of Words, and give them that most necessary Habit,
of Reading with Attention.
The Master then to read the Piece with the proper Modulations
of Voice, due Emphasis, and suitable Action, where
Action is required; and put the Youth on imitating his Manner.
Where the Author has us'd an Expression not the best, let it
be pointed out; and let his Beauties be particularly remarked
to the Youth.
Let the Lessons for Reading be varied, that the Youth may
be made acquainted with good Stiles of all Kinds in Prose and
Verse, and the proper Manner of reading each Kind. Sometimes
a well-told Story, a Piece of a Sermon, a General's Speech to his
Soldiers, a Speech in a Tragedy, some Part of a Comedy, an
Ode, a Satyr, a Letter, Blank Verse, Hudibrastick, Heroic, etc.
But let such Lessons for Reading be chosen, as contain some
useful Instruction, whereby the Understandings or Morals of
the Youth, may at the same Time be improv'd.
It is requir'd that they should first study and understand the
Lessons, before they are put upon reading them properly, to
which End each Boy should have an English Dictionary, to
help him over Difficulties. When our Boys read English to
us, we are apt to imagine they understand what they read, because
we do, and because 'tis their Mother Tongue. But they
often read as Parrots speak, knowing little or nothing of the
Meaning. And it is impossible a Reader should give the due
Modulation to his Voice, and pronounce properly, unless his
Understanding goes before his Tongue, and makes him Master[209]
of the Sentiment. Accustoming Boys to read aloud what they
do not first understand, is the Cause of those even set Tones so
common among Readers, which when they have once got a
Habit of using, they find so difficult to correct: By which Means,
among Fifty Readers, we scarcely find a good One. For want
of good Reading, Pieces publish'd with a View to influence the
Minds of Men for their own or the publick Benefit, lose Half
their Force. Were there but one good Reader in a Neighbourhood,
a publick Orator might be heard throughout a Nation
with the same Advantages, and have the same Effect on his
Audience, as if they stood within the Reach of his Voice.
THE THIRD CLASS
to be taught Speaking properly and gracefully, which is near of
Kin to good Reading, and naturally follows it in the Studies
of Youth. Let the Scholars of this Class begin with learning the
Elements of Rhetoric from some short System, so as to be able
to give an Account of the most usual Tropes and Figures. Let
all their bad Habits of Speaking, all Offences against good
Grammar, all corrupt or foreign Accents, and all improper
Phrases, be pointed out to them. Short Speeches from the
Roman, or other History, or from our Parliamentary Debates,
might be got by heart, and deliver'd with the proper Action, &c.
Speeches and Scenes in our best Tragedies and Comedies (avoiding
every Thing that could injure the Morals of Youth) might
likewise be got by Rote, and the Boys exercis'd in delivering
or acting them; great Care being taken to form their Manner
after the truest Models.
For their farther Improvement, and a little to vary their
Studies, let them now begin to read History, after having got
by Heart a short Table of the principal Epochas in Chronology.
They may begin with Rollin's Antient and Roman Histories, and
proceed at proper Hours as they go thro' the subsequent Classes,
with the best Histories of our own Nation and Colonies. Let
Emulation be excited among the Boys by giving, Weekly, little
Prizes, or other small Encouragements to those who are able to
give the best Account of what they have read, as to Times,[210]
Places, Names of Persons, &c. This will make them read with
Attention, and imprint the History well in their Memories. In
remarking on the History, the Master will have fine Opportunities
of instilling Instruction of various Kinds, and improving
the Morals as well as the Understandings of Youth.
The Natural and Mechanic History contain'd in the Spectacle
de la Nature, might also be begun in this Class, and continued
thro' the subsequent Classes by other Books of the same Kind:
For next to the Knowledge of Duty, this Kind of Knowledge is
certainly the most useful, as well as the most entertaining. The
Merchant may thereby be enabled better to understand many
Commodities in Trade; the Handicraftsman to improve his
Business by new Instruments, Mixtures and Materials; and frequently
Hints are given of new Manufactures, or new Methods
of improving Land, that may be set on foot greatly to the Advantage
of a Country.
THE FOURTH CLASS
to be taught Composition. Writing one's own Language well,
is the next necessary Accomplishment after good Speaking.
'Tis the Writing-Master's Business to take Care that the Boys
make fair Characters, and place them straight and even in the
Lines: But to form their Stile, and even to take Care that the
Stops and Capitals are properly disposed, is the Part of the
English Master. The Boys should be put on Writing Letters
to each other on any common Occurrences, and on various
Subjects, imaginary Business, &c., containing little Stories, Accounts
of their late Reading, what Parts of Authors please them,
and why; Letters of Congratulation, of Compliment, of Request,
of Thanks, of Recommendation, of Admonition, of Consolation,
of Expostulation, Excuse, &c. In these they should be
taught to express themselves clearly, concisely, and naturally,
without affected Words or high-flown Phrases. All their Letters
to pass through the Master's Hand, who is to point out the
Faults, advise the Corrections, and commend what he finds
right. Some of the best Letters published in our own Language,
as Sir William Temple's, those of Pope, and his Friends, and[211]
some others, might be set before the Youth as Models, their
Beauties pointed out and explained by the Master, the Letters
themselves transcrib'd by the Scholar.
Dr. Johnson's Ethices Elementa,[36] or First Principles of Morality,
may now be read by the Scholars, and explain'd by the
Master, to lay a solid Foundation of Virtue and Piety in their
Minds. And as this Class continues the Reading of History,
let them now at proper Hours receive some farther Instruction
in Chronology, and in that Part of Geography (from the Mathematical
Master), which is necessary to understand the Maps and
Globes. They should also be acquainted with the modern
Names of the Places they find mention'd in antient Writers.
The Exercises of good Reading, and proper Speaking, still continued
at suitable Times.
FIFTH CLASS
To improve the Youth in Composition, they may now, besides
continuing to write Letters, begin to write little Essays in
Prose, and sometimes in Verse, not to make them Poets, but
for this Reason, that nothing acquaints a Lad so speedily with
Variety of Expression, as the Necessity of finding such Words
and Phrases as will suit with the Measure, Sound, and Rhime
of Verse, and at the same time well express the Sentiment.
These Essays should all pass under the Master's Eye, who will
point out their Faults, and put the Writer on correcting them.
Where the Judgment is not ripe enough for forming new Essays,
let the Sentiments of a Spectator be given, and requir'd to be
cloath'd in a Scholar's own Words; or the Circumstances of
some good Story, the Scholar to find Expression. Let them be
put sometimes on abridging a Paragraph of a diffuse Author,
sometimes on dilating or amplifying what is wrote more closely.
And now let Dr. Johnson's Noetica, or First Principles of
Human Knowledge, containing a Logic, or Art of Reasoning,
&c. be read by the Youth, and the Difficulties that may occur
to them be explained by the Master. The Reading of History,
and the Exercises of good Reading and just Speaking, still
continued.[212]
SIXTH CLASS
In this Class, besides continuing the Studies of the preceding,
in History, Rhetoric, Logic, Moral and Natural Philosophy, the
best English Authors may be read and explain'd; as Tillotson,
Milton, Locke, Addison, Pope, Swift, the higher Papers in the
Spectator and Guardian, the best Translations of Homer, Virgil,
and Horace, of Telemachus, Travels of Cyrus, &c.[37]
Once a Year let there be publick Exercises in the Hall, the
Trustees and Citizens present. Then let fine gilt Books be given
as Prizes to such Boys as distinguish themselves and excel the
others in any Branch of Learning, making three Degrees of
Comparison; giving the best Prize to him that performs best;
a less valuable One to him that comes up next to the best; and
another to the third. Commendations, Encouragement and
Advice to the rest; keeping up their Hopes, that by Industry
they may excel another Time. The Names of those that obtain
the Prizes to be yearly printed in a List.
The Hours of each Day are to be divided and dispos'd in such
a Manner, as that some Classes may be with the Writing-Master,
improving their Hands, others with the Mathematical Master,
learning Arithmetick, Accompts, Geography, Use of the Globes,
Drawing, Mechanicks, &c.; while the rest are in the English
School, under the English Master's Care.
Thus instructed, Youth will come out of this School fitted
for learning any Business, Calling or Profession, except such
wherein Languages are required; and tho' unacquainted with
any antient or foreign Tongue, they will be Masters of their own,
which is of more immediate and general Use; and withal will
have attain'd many other valuable Accomplishments; the Time
usually spent in acquiring those Languages, often without Success,
being here employ'd in laying such a Foundation of Knowledge
and Ability, as, properly improv'd, may qualify them to
pass thro' and execute the several Offices of civil Life, with Advantage
and Reputation to themselves and Country.
B.F.
[213]
TO C[ADWALLADER] C[OLDEN] ESQ. AT NEW YORK
Communicated to Mr. Collinson
[Philadelphia] 1751.
Sir,
I inclose you answers, such as my present hurry of business
will permit me to make, to the principal queries contained in
yours of the 28th instant, and beg leave to refer you to the
latter piece in the printed collection of my papers, for farther
explanation of the difference between what are called electrics
per se, and non-electrics. When you have had time to read and
consider these papers, I will endeavour to make any new experiments
you shall propose, that you think may afford farther
light or satisfaction to either of us; and shall be much obliged
to you for such remarks, objections, &c., as may occur to you.
I forget whether I wrote you that I have melted brass pins and
steel needles, inverted the poles of the magnetic needle, given a
magnetism and polarity to needles that had none, and fired dry
gunpowder by the electric spark. I have five bottles that contain
8 or 9 gallons each, two of which charg'd, are sufficient for
those purposes: but I can charge and discharge them altogether.
There are no bounds (but what expence and labour give) to the
force man may raise and use in the electrical way: for bottle
may be added to bottle in infinitum, and all united and discharged
together as one, the force and effect proportioned to their number
and size. The greatest known effects of common lightning
may, I think, without much difficulty, be exceeded in this way,
which a few years since could not have been believed, and even
now may seem to many a little extravagant to suppose. So we
are got beyond the skill of Rabelais's devils of two years old,
who, he humorously says, had only learnt to thunder and lighten
a little round the head of a cabbage.[38]
I am, with sincere respect,
Your most obliged humble servant,
B. Franklin.
[214]
EXPORTING OF FELONS TO THE COLONIES
[From the Pennsylvania Gazette, May 9, 1751.]
To the Printers of the Gazette
By a Passage in one of your late Papers, I understand that
the Government at home will not suffer our mistaken Assemblies
to make any Law for preventing or discouraging the Importation
of Convicts from Great Britain, for this kind Reason,
'That such Laws are against the Publick Utility, as they tend
to prevent the Improvement and Well Peopling of the Colonies.'
Such a tender parental Concern in our Mother Country for
the Welfare of her Children, calls aloud for the highest Returns
of Gratitude and Duty. This every one must be sensible of:
But 'tis said, that in our present Circumstances it is absolutely
impossible for us to make such as are adequate to the Favour.
I own it; but nevertheless let us do our Endeavour. 'Tis something
to show a grateful Disposition.
In some of the uninhabited Parts of these Provinces, there
are Numbers of these venomous Reptiles we call Rattle-Snakes;
Felons-convict from the Beginning of the World:
These, whenever we meet with them, we put to Death, by
Virtue of an old Law, Thou shalt bruise his Head. But as this is
a sanguinary Law, and may seem too cruel; and as however
mischievous those Creatures are with us, they may possibly
change their Natures, if they were to change the Climate; I
would humbly propose, that this general Sentence of Death be
changed for Transportation.
In the Spring of the Year, when they first creep out of their
Holes, they are feeble, heavy, slow, and easily taken; and if a
small Bounty were allow'd per Head, some Thousands might
be collected annually, and transported to Britain. There I would
propose to have them carefully distributed in St. James's Park,
in the Spring-Gardens and other Places of Pleasure about London;
in the Gardens of all the Nobility and Gentry throughout[215]
the Nation; but particularly in the Gardens of the Prime Ministers,
the Lords of Trade and Members of Parliament; for to them
we are most particularly obliged.
There is no human Scheme so perfect, but some Inconveniencies
may be objected to it: Yet when the Conveniencies
far exceed, the Scheme is judg'd rational, and fit to be executed.
Thus Inconveniencies have been objected to that good and wise
Act of Parliament, by virtue of which all the Newgates and
Dungeons in Britain are emptied into the Colonies. It has been
said, that these Thieves and Villains introduc'd among us, spoil
the Morals of Youth in the Neighbourhoods that entertain
them, and perpetrate many horrid Crimes: But let not private
Interests obstruct publick Utility. Our Mother knows what is
best for us. What is a little Housebreaking, Shoplifting, or Highway
Robbing; what is a Son now and then corrupted and hang'd,
a Daughter debauch'd and pox'd, a Wife stabb'd, a Husband's
Throat cut, or a Child's Brains beat out with an Axe, compar'd
with this 'Improvement and well Peopling of the Colonies!'
Thus it may perhaps be objected to my Scheme, that the
Rattle-Snake is a mischievous Creature, and that his changing
his Nature with the Clime is a mere Supposition, not yet confirm'd
by sufficient Facts. What then? Is not Example more
prevalent than Precept? And may not the honest rough British
Gentry, by a Familiarity with these Reptiles, learn to creep, and
to insinuate, and to slaver, and to wriggle into Place (and perhaps
to poison such as stand in their Way) Qualities of no small
Advantage to Courtiers! In comparison of which 'Improvement
and Publick Utility,' what is a Child now and then kill'd
by their venomous Bite, ... or even a favourite Lap Dog?
I would only add, that this exporting of Felons to the Colonies,
may be consider'd as a Trade, as well as in the Light of a
Favour. Now all Commerce implies Returns: Justice requires
them: There can be no Trade without them. And Rattle-Snakes
seem the most suitable Returns for the Human Serpents sent us
by our Mother Country. In this, however, as in every other
Branch of Trade, she will have the Advantage of us. She will
reap equal Benefits without equal Risque of the Inconveniencies[216]
and Dangers. For the Rattle-Snake gives Warning before he
attempts his Mischief; which the Convict does not. I am
Yours, &c.
Americanus.
OBSERVATIONS
CONCERNING THE INCREASE OF MANKIND, PEOPLING
OF COUNTRIES, ETC.
Written in Pensilvania, 1751[39]
1. Tables of the Proportion of Marriages to Births, of Deaths
to Births, of Marriages to the Numbers of Inhabitants, &c.,
form'd on Observaions [sic] made upon the Bills of Mortality,
Christnings, &c., of populous Cities, will not suit Countries;
nor will Tables form'd on Observations made on full-settled
old Countries, as Europe, suit new Countries, as America.
2. For People increase in Proportion to the Number of
Marriages, and that is greater in Proportion to the Ease and
Convenience of supporting a Family. When families can be
easily supported, more Persons marry, and earlier in Life.
3. In Cities, where all Trades, Occupations, and Offices are
full, many delay marrying till they can see how to bear the
Charges of a Family; which Charges are greater in Cities, as
Luxury is more common: many live single during Life, and
continue Servants to Families, Journeymen to Trades; &c.
hence Cities do not by natural Generation supply themselves
with Inhabitants; the Deaths are more than the Births.
4. In Countries full settled, the Case must be nearly the
same; all Lands being occupied and improved to the Heighth;
those who cannot get Land, must Labour for others that have
it; when Labourers are plenty, their Wages will be low; by low
Wages a family is supported with Difficulty; this Difficulty deters
many from Marriage, who therefore long continue Servants
and single. Only as the Cities take Supplies of People from the
Country, and thereby make a little more Room in the Country;
Marriage is a little more encourag'd there, and the Births exceed
the Deaths.[217]
5. Europe is generally full settled with Husbandmen, Manufacturers,
&c., and therefore cannot now much increase in
People: America is chiefly occupied by Indians, who subsist
mostly by Hunting. But as the Hunter, of all Men, requires
the greatest Quantity of Land from whence to draw his Subsistence,
(the Husbandman subsisting on much less, the Gardner
on still less, and the Manufacturer requiring least of all), the
Europeans found America as fully settled as it well could be by
Hunters; yet these, having large Tracks, were easily prevail'd on
to part with Portions of Territory to the new Comers, who did
not much interfere with the Natives in Hunting, and furnish'd
them with many Things they wanted.
6. Land being thus plenty in America, and so cheap as that
a labouring man, that understands Husbandry, can in a short
Time save Money enough to purchase a Piece of new Land
sufficient for a Plantation, whereon he may subsist a Family,
such are not afraid to marry; for, if they even look far enough
forward to consider how their Children, when grown up, are
to be provided for, they see that more Land is to be had at rates
equally easy, all Circumstances considered.
7. Hence Marriages in America are more general, and more
generally early, than in Europe. And if it is reckoned there,
that there is but one Marriage per Annum among 100 persons,
perhaps we may here reckon two; and if in Europe they have
but 4 Births to a Marriage (many of their Marriages being late),
we may here reckon 8, of which if one half grow up, and our
Marriages are made, reckoning one with another at 20 Years of
Age, our People must at least be doubled every 20 Years.
8. But notwithstanding this Increase, so vast is the Territory
of North America, that it will require many Ages to settle it
fully; and, till it is fully settled, Labour will never be cheap here,
where no Man continues long a Labourer for others, but gets
a Plantation of his own, no Man continues long a Journeyman
to a Trade, but goes among those new Settlers, and sets up for
himself, &c. Hence Labour is no cheaper now in Pennsylvania,
than it was 30 Years ago, tho' so many Thousand labouring
People have been imported.[218]
9. The Danger therefore of these Colonies interfering with
their Mother Country in Trades that depend on Labour, Manufactures,
&c., is too remote to require the attention of Great Britain.
10. But in Proportion to the Increase of the Colonies, a vast
Demand is growing for British Manufactures, a glorious Market
wholly in the Power of Britain, in which Foreigners cannot interfere,
which will increase in a short Time even beyond her
Power of supplying, tho' her whole Trade should be to her
Colonies: Therefore Britain should not too much restrain Manufactures
in her Colonies. A wise and good Mother will not do
it. To distress, is to weaken, and weakening the Children
weakens the whole Family.
11. Besides if the Manufactures of Britain (by reason of the
American Demands) should rise too high in Price, Foreigners
who can sell cheaper will drive her Merchants out of Foreign
Markets; Foreign Manufactures will thereby be encouraged and
increased, and consequently foreign Nations, perhaps her Rivals
in Power, grow more populous and more powerful; while her
own Colonies, kept too low, are unable to assist her, or add
to her Strength.
12. 'Tis an ill-grounded Opinion that by the Labour of
slaves, America may possibly vie in Cheapness of Manufactures
with Britain. The Labour of Slaves can never be so cheap here
as the Labour of working Men is in Britain. Any one may compute
it. Interest of Money is in the Colonies from 6 to 10 per
Cent. Slaves one with another cost 30£ Sterling per Head.
Reckon then the Interest of the first Purchase of a Slave, the
Insurance or Risque on his Life, his Cloathing and Diet, Expences
in his Sickness and Loss of Time, Loss by his Neglect
of Business (Neglect is natural to the Man who is not to be
benefited by his own Care or Diligence), Expence of a Driver
to keep him at Work, and his Pilfering from Time to Time,
almost every Slave being by Nature a Thief, and compare the
whole Amount with the Wages of a Manufacturer of Iron or
Wood in England, you will see that Labour is much cheaper
there than it ever can be by Negroes here. Why then will[219]
Americans purchase Slaves? Because Slaves may be kept as
long as a Man pleases, or has Occasion for their Labour; while
hired Men are continually leaving their masters (often in the
midst of his Business,) and setting up for themselves.—Sec. 8.
13. As the Increase of People depends on the Encouragement
of Marriages, the following Things must diminish a Nation,
viz. 1. The being conquered; for the Conquerors will engross
as many Offices, and exact as much Tribute or Profit on
the Labour of the conquered, as will maintain them in their new
Establishment, and this diminishing the Subsistence of the Natives,
discourages their Marriages, and so gradually diminishes
them, while the foreigners increase. 2. Loss of Territory. Thus,
the Britons being driven into Wales, and crowded together in
a barren Country insufficient to support such great Numbers,
diminished 'till the People bore a Proportion to the Produce,
while the Saxons increas'd on their abandoned lands; till the
Island became full of English. And, were the English now driven
into Wales by some foreign Nation, there would in a few Years,
be no more Englishmen in Britain, than there are now people
in Wales. 3. Loss of Trade. Manufactures exported, draw Subsistence
from Foreign Countries for Numbers; who are thereby
enabled to marry and raise Families. If the Nation be deprived
of any Branch of Trade, and no new Employment is found for
the People occupy'd in that Branch, it will also be soon deprived
of so many People. 4. Loss of Food. Suppose a Nation has a
Fishery, which not only employs great Numbers, but makes
the Food and Subsistence of the People cheaper. If another
Nation becomes Master of the Seas, and prevents the Fishery,
the People will diminish in Proportion as the Loss of Employ
and Dearness of Provision, makes it more difficult to subsist
a Family. 5. Bad Government and insecure Property. People not
only leave such a Country, and settling Abroad incorporate
with other Nations, lose their native Language, and become
Foreigners, but, the Industry of those that remain being discourag'd,
the Quantity of Subsistence in the Country is lessen'd,
and the Support of a Family becomes more difficult. So heavy
Taxes tend to diminish a People. 6. The Introduction of Slaves.[220]
The Negroes brought into the English Sugar Islands have
greatly diminish'd the Whites there; the Poor are by this Means
deprived of Employment, while a few Families acquire vast
Estates; which they spend on Foreign Luxuries, and educating
their Children in the Habit of those Luxuries; the same Income
is needed for the Support of one that might have maintain'd 100.
The Whites who have Slaves, not labouring, are enfeebled, and
therefore not so generally prolific; the Slaves being work'd too
hard, and ill fed, their Constitutions are broken, and the Deaths
among them are more than the Births; so that a continual Supply
is needed from Africa. The Northern Colonies, having few
Slaves, increase in Whites. Slaves also pejorate[40] the Families
that use them; the white Children become proud, disgusted with
Labour, and being educated in Idleness, are rendered unfit to
get a Living by Industry.
14. Hence the Prince that acquires new Territory, if he finds
it vacant, or removes the Natives to give his own People Room;
the Legislator that makes effectual Laws for promoting of
Trade, increasing Employment, improving Land by more or
better Tillage, providing more Food by Fisheries; securing
Property, &c. and the Man that invents new Trades, Arts, or
Manufactures, or new Improvements in Husbandry, may be
properly called Fathers of their Nation, as they are the Cause
of the Generation of Multitudes, by the Encouragement they
afford to Marriage.
15. As to Privileges granted to the married, (such as the Jus
trium Liberorum among the Romans,) they may hasten the filling
of a Country that has been thinned by War or Pestilence, or
that has otherwise vacant Territory; but cannot increase a
People beyond the Means provided for their Subsistence.
16. Foreign Luxuries and needless Manufactures, imported
and used in a Nation, do, by the same Reasoning, increase the
People of the Nation that furnishes them, and diminish the
People of the Nation that uses them. Laws, therefore, that prevent
such Importations, and on the contrary promote the Exportation
of Manufactures to be consumed in Foreign Countries,
may be called (with Respect to the People that make them)[221]
generative Laws, as, by increasing Subsistence they encourage
Marriage. Such Laws likewise strengthen a Country, doubly,
by increasing its own People and diminishing its Neighbours.
17. Some European Nations prudently refuse to consume the
Manufactures of East-India:—They should likewise forbid
them to their Colonies; for the Gain to the Merchant is not to
be compar'd with the Loss, by this Means, of People to the
Nation.
18. Home Luxury in the Great increases the Nation's Manufacturers
employ'd by it, who are many, and only tends to
diminish the Families that indulge in it, who are few. The
greater the common fashionable Expence of any Rank of People,
the more cautious they are of Marriage. Therefore Luxury
should never be suffer'd to become common.
19. The great Increase of Offspring in particular Families
is not always owing to greater Fecundity of Nature, but sometimes
to Examples of Industry in the Heads, and industrious
Education; by which the Children are enabled to provide better
for themselves, and their marrying early is encouraged from
the Prospect of good Subsistence.
20. If there be a Sect, therefore, in our Nation, that regard
Frugality and Industry as religious Duties, and educate their
Children therein, more than others commonly do; such Sect
must consequently increase more by natural Generation, than
any other sect in Britain.
21. The Importation of Foreigners into a Country, that has
as many Inhabitants as the present Employments and Provisions
for Subsistence will bear, will be in the End no Increase of
People; unless the New Comers have more Industry and Frugality
than the Natives, and then they will provide more Subsistence,
and increase in the Country; but they will gradually
eat the Natives out. Nor is it necessary to bring in Foreigners
to fill up any occasional Vacancy in a Country; for such Vacancy
(if the Laws are good, sec. 14, 16,) will soon be filled
by natural Generation. Who can now find the Vacancy made
in Sweden, France, or other Warlike Nations, by the Plague of
Heroism, 40 years ago; in France, by the Expulsion of the[222]
Protestants, in England, by the Settlement of her Colonies;
or in Guinea, by 100 Years Exportation of Slaves, that has
blacken'd half America? The thinness of Inhabitants in Spain is
owing to National Pride and Idleness, and other Causes, rather
than to the Expulsion of the Moors, or to the making of new
Settlements.
22. There is, in short, no Bound to the prolific Nature of
Plants or Animals, but what is made by their crowding and
interfering with each other's means of Subsistence. Was the
Face of the Earth vacant of other Plants, it might be gradually
sowed and overspread with one Kind only; as, for Instance,
with Fennel; and were it empty of other Inhabitants, it might
in a few Ages be replenish'd from one Nation only; as, for
Instance, with Englishmen. Thus there are suppos'd to be now
upwards of One Million English Souls in North-America, (tho'
'tis thought scarce 80,000 have been brought over Sea,) and
yet perhaps there is not one the fewer in Britain, but rather
many more, on Account of the Employment the Colonies afford
to Manufacturers at Home. This Million doubling, suppose but
once in 25 Years, will, in another Century, be more than the
People of England, and the greatest Number of Englishmen
will be on this Side the Water. What an Accession of Power
to the British Empire by Sea as well as Land! What Increase
of Trade and Navigation! What Numbers of Ships and Seamen!
We have been here but little more than 100 years, and
yet the Force of our Privateers in the late War, united, was
greater, both in Men and Guns, than that of the whole British
Navy in Queen Elizabeth's Time. How important an Affair
then to Britain is the present Treaty for settling the Bounds
between her Colonies and the French, and how careful should
she be to secure Room enough, since on the Room depends so
much the Increase of her People.
23. In fine, a Nation well regulated is like a Polypus; take
away a Limb, its Place is soon supply'd; cut it in two, and each
deficient Part shall speedily grow out of the Part remaining.
Thus if you have Room and Subsistence enough, as you may
by dividing, make ten Polypes out of one, you may of one[223]
make ten Nations, equally populous and powerful; or rather
increase a Nation ten fold in Numbers and Strength.[41]
And since Detachments of English from Britain, sent to
America, will have their Places at Home so soon supply'd and
increase so largely here; why should the Palatine Boors be
suffered to swarm into our Settlements and, by herding together,
establish their Language and Manners, to the Exclusion
of ours? Why should Pennsylvania, founded by the English,
become a Colony of Aliens, who will shortly be so numerous
as to Germanize us instead of our Anglifying them, and will
never adopt our Language or Customs any more than they can
acquire our Complexion?
24. Which leads me to add one Remark, that the Number
of purely white People in the World is proportionably very
small. All Africa is black or tawny; Asia chiefly tawny; America
(exclusive of the new Comers) wholly so. And in Europe,
the Spaniards, Italians, French, Russians, and Swedes, are generally
of what we call a swarthy Complexion; as are the Germans
also, the Saxons only excepted, who, with the English, make the
principal Body of White People on the Face of the Earth. I
could wish their Numbers were increased. And while we are,
as I may call it, Scouring our Planet, by clearing America of
Woods, and so making this Side of our Globe reflect a brighter
Light to the Eyes of Inhabitants in Mars or Venus, why should
we, in the Sight of Superior Beings, darken its People? Why
increase the Sons of Africa, by planting them in America, where
we have so fair an Opportunity, by excluding all Blacks and
Tawneys, of increasing the lovely White and Red? But perhaps
I am partial to the Complexion of my Country, for such Kind
of Partiality is natural to Mankind.
TO PETER COLLINSON[42]
Electrical Kite
[Philadelphia] Oct. 19, 1752.
Sir,
As frequent mention is made in public papers from Europe
of the success of the Philadelphia experiment for drawing the[224]
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 ribbon, 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 ribbon 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 wet 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 phial 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.
[Note.—The Almanack for 1753 which follows is an exact facsimile
of the copy in the W. S. Mason Collection, here reproduced through the
kindness of Mr. Mason. See note [43].]
[225]
Poor Richard improved:
BEING AN
ALMANACK
AND
EPHEMERIS
OF THE
Motions of the SUN and MOON;
THE TRUE
Places and Aspects of the Planets;
THE
RISING and SETTING of the SUN;
AND THE
Rising, Setting and Southing of the Moon,
FOR THE
Year of our LORD 1753:
Being the First after Leap-Year.
Containing also,
The Lunations, Conjunctions, Eclipses, Judgment
of the Weather, Rising and Setting of the
Planets, Length of Days and Nights, Fairs, Courts,
Roads, &c. Together with useful Tables, chronological
Observations, and entertaining Remarks.
Fitted to the Latitude of Forty Degrees, and a Meridian of near
fire Hours West from London; but may, without sensible Error,
serve all the Northern Colonies.
By RICHARD SAUNDERS, Philom.
PHILADELPHIA:
Printed and Sold by B. Franklin, and D. Hall.
[226]
The Anatomy of Man's Body as govern'd by the
Twelve Constellations.
♈ The Head and Face. |
♊ Arms |
|
♉ Neck |
♌ Heart | ♋ Breast |
♎ Reins | ♍ Bowels |
♐ Thighs | ♏ Secrets |
♒ Legs | ♑ Knees |
♓ The Feet. |
To know where the Sign is.
First Find the Day of the Month, and against the Day
you have the Sign or Place of the Moon in the 5th Column.
Then finding the Sign here, it shews the Part of
the Body it governs.
The Names and Characters of the Seven Planets.
☉ Sol, ♄ Saturn,
♃ Jupiter, ♂ Mars, ♀ Venus,
☿ Mercury, ☽ Luna, ☊ Dragons Head and ☋ Tail.
The Five Aspects. |
☌ Conjunction, | ☍ Opposition, | ✱ Sextile, |
△ Trine, | □ Quartile. | |
Common Notes for the Year 1753. N. S. |
Golden Number | 6 | |
| Dominical Letter | G |
Epact | 25 | Cycle of the Sun | 26 |
[227]
Courteous Reader,
This is the twentieth Time of my addressing thee in this
Manner, and I have reason to flatter myself my Labours have
not been unacceptable to the Publick. I am particularly
pleas'd to understand that my Predictions of the Weather give such
general Satisfaction; and indeed, such Care is taken in the Calculations,
on which those Predictions are founded, that I could almost
venture to say, there's not a single One of them, promising Snow,
Rain, Hail, Heat, Frost, Fogs, Wind, or Thunder, but what comes
to pass punctually and precisely on the very Day, in some Place or
other on this little diminutive Globe of ours; (and when you consider
the vast Distance of the Stars from whence we take our Aim, you
must allow it no small Degree of Exactness to hit any Part of it) I
say on this Globe; for tho' in other Matters I confine the Usefulness
of my Ephemeris to the Northern Colonies, yet in that important
Matter of the Weather, which is of such general Concern, I would
have it more extensively useful, and therefore take in both Hemispheres,
and all Latitudes from Hudson's Bay to Cape Horn.
You will find this Almanack in my former Method, only conformable
to the New-Stile established by the Act of Parliament,
which I gave you in my last at length; the new Act since made for
Amendment of that first Act, not affecting us in the least, being
intended only to regulate some Corporation Matters in England, before
unprovided for. I have only added a Column in the second Page
of each Month, containing the Days of the Old Stile opposite to
their corresponding Days in the New, which may, in many Cases,
be of Use; and so conclude (believing you will excuse a short Preface,
when it is to make Room for something better)
Thy Friend and Servant,
R. SAUNDERS.
HYMN to the Creator, from Psalm CIV.
Awake, my Soul! with Joy thy God adore;
Declare his Greatness; celebrate his Pow'r;
Who, cloath'd with Honour, and with Glory crown'd,
Shines forth, and cheers his Universe around.
Who with a radiant Veil of heavenly Light
Himself conceals from all created Sight.
Who rais'd the spacious Firmament on high,
And spread the azure Curtain of the Sky.
Whose awful Throne Heav'n's starry Arch sustains,
Whose Presence not Heav'n's vast Expanse restrains.
Whose Ways unsearchable no Eye can find,
The Clouds his Chariot, and his Wings the Wind
Whom Hosts of mighty Angels own their Lord,
And flaming Seraphim fulfil his Word.
Whose Pow'r of old the solid Earth did found,
Self-pois'd, self-center'd, and with Strength girt round;
From
[228]
From her appointed Sphere forbid to fly,
Or rush unbalanc'd thro' the trackless Sky.
To reas'ning Man the sov'reign Rule assign'd,
His Delegate o'er each inferior Kind;
Too soon to fall from that distinguish'd Place,
His Honours stain'd with Guilt and foul Disgrace.
He saw the Pride of Earth's aspiring Lord,
And in his Fury gave the dreadful Word:
Straight o'er her peopled Plains his Floods were pour'd,
And o'er the Mountains the proud Billows roar'd.
Athwart the Face of Earth the Deluge sweeps,
And whelms the impious Nations in the Deeps:
Again God spake——and at his pow'rful Call
The raging Floods asswage, the Waters fall,
The Tempests hear his Voice, and straight obey,
And at his Thunder's Roar they haste away:
From off the lofty Mountains they subside,
And gently thro' the winding Vallies glide,
Till in the spacious Caverns of the Deep
They sink together, and in Silence sleep.
There he hath stretch'd abroad their liquid Plains,
And there Omnipotence their Rage restrains,
That Earth no more her Ruins may deplore,
And guilty Mortals dread their Wrath no more.
He bids the living Fountains burst the Ground,
And bounteous spread their Silver Streams around:
Down from the Hills they draw their shining Train,
Diffusing Health and Beauty o'er the Plain.
There the fair Flocks allay the Summer's Rage,
And panting Savages their Flame asswage.
On their sweet winding Banks th' aerial Race
In artless Numbers warble forth his Praise,
Or chant the harmless Raptures of their Loves,
And cheer the Plains, and wake the vocal Groves.
Forth from his Treasures in the Skies he pours
His precious Blessings in refreshing Show'rs.
Each dying Plant with Joy new Life receives,
And thankful Nature smiles, and Earth revives.
The fruitful Fields with Verdure he bespreads,
The Table of the Race that haunts the Meads,
And bids each Forest, and each flow'ry Plain
Send forth their native Physic for the Swain.
Thus
[229]
Thus doth the various Bounty of the Earth
Support each Species crowding into Birth.
In purple Streams she bids her Vintage flow,
And Olives on her Hills luxuriant grow,
One with its generous Juice to cheer the Heart,
And one illustrious Beauty to impart;
And Bread of all Heav'n's precious Gifts the chief
From desolating Want the sure Relief.
Which with new Life the feeble Limbs inspires,
And all the Man with Health and Courage fires.
The Cloud-topt Hills with waving Woods are crown'd,
Which wide extend their sacred Shades around,
There Lebanon's proud Cedars nod their Heads;
There Bashan's lofty Oaks extend their Shades:
The pointed Firs rise tow'ring to the Clouds,
And Life and warbling Numbers fill the Woods.
Nor gentle Shades alone, nor verdant Plains,
Nor fair enamell'd Meads, nor flow'ry Lawns,
But e'en rude Rocks and dreary Desarts yield
Retreats for the wild Wand'rers of the Field.
Thy Pow'r with Life and Sense all Nature fills,
Each Element with varied Being swells,
Race after Race arising view the Light,
Then silent pass away, and sink in Night.
The Gift of Life thus boundlesly bestow'd,
Proclaims th' exhaustless Hand, the Hand of God.
Nor less thy Glory in the etherial Spheres,
Nor less thy ruling Providence appears.
There from on high the gentle Moon by Night
In solemn Silence sheds her Silver Light,
And thence the glorious Sun pours forth his Beams,
Thence copious spreads around his quick'ning Streams.
Each various Orb enjoys the golden Day,
And Worlds of Life hang on his chearful Ray.
Thus Light and Darkness their fix'd Course maintain,
And still the kind Vicissitudes remain:
For when pale Night her sable Curtain spreads,
And wraps all Nature in her awful Shades,
Soft Slumbers gently seal each mortal Eye,
Stretch'd at their Ease the weary Lab'rers lie.
The restless Soul 'midst Life's vain Tumults tost,
Forgets her Woes, and ev'ry Care is lost.
Then
[230]
JANUARY. I Month.
Then from their Dens the rav'nous Monsters creep,
Whilst in their Folds the harmless Bestial sleep.
The furious Lion roams in quest of Prey,
To gorge his Hunger till the Dawn of Day;
His hideous Roar with Terror shakes the Wood,
As from his Maker's Hand he asks his Food.
Again the Sun his Morning Beams displays,
And fires the eastern Mountain with his Rays.
Before
| | Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ri. |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 2 |
Circumcision. |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
♐ | 11 |
☽ with ♂ |
2 | 3 |
Clouds and |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
23 |
☽ with ♄ |
3 | 4 |
cold, with |
7 | 23 |
4 | 37 |
♑ | 5 |
♃ rise 4 23 |
4 | 5 |
snow; |
7 | 23 |
4 | 37 |
17 |
Tis against |
5 | 6 |
Days inc. 4 m. |
7 | 23 |
4 | 37 |
29 |
☽ with ☿ some |
6 | 7 |
Epiphany. |
7 | 22 |
4 | 38 |
♒ | 10 |
♂ rise 4 44 |
7 | G |
1 p. Epiph. |
7 | 22 |
4 | 38 |
22 |
☽ w. ♀ Mens |
8 | 2 |
wind and |
7 | 21 |
4 | 39 |
♓ | 4 |
Principle to pay |
9 | 3 |
falling |
7 | 21 |
4 | 39 |
16 |
Interest, and |
10 | 4 |
Days inc. 10 m. |
7 | 20 |
4 | 40 |
28 |
seems against |
11 | 5 |
weather, |
7 | 19 |
4 | 41 |
♈ | 10 |
♃ s. 11 6 others |
12 | 6 |
then |
7 | 18 |
4 | 42 |
23 |
♄ rise 5 42 |
13 | 7 |
very cold, |
7 | 17 |
4 | 43 |
♉ | 6 |
Sirius so. 10 52 |
14 | G |
2 p. Epiph. |
7 | 16 |
4 | 44 |
19 |
✱ ♄ ♀ Interest |
15 | 2 |
Day incr. 18 m. |
7 | 16 |
4 | 44 |
♊ | 2 |
7 *s so. 7 42 |
16 | 3 |
wintry |
7 | 15 |
4 | 45 |
16 |
♃ so. 10 39 |
17 | 4 |
weather; |
7 | 14 |
4 | 46 |
♋ | 0 |
♂ rise 4 36 |
18 | 5 |
but grows more |
7 | 13 |
4 | 47 |
15 |
☽ with ♃ to |
19 | 6 |
Day 9 36 long. |
7 | 12 |
4 | 48 |
♌ | 1 |
☉ in ♒ pay |
20 | 7 |
moderate, |
7 | 12 |
4 | 48 |
17 |
△ ♃ ♀ the |
21 | G |
3 p. Epiph. |
7 | 11 |
4 | 49 |
♍ | 3 |
Principal. |
22 | 2 |
followed by |
7 | 10 |
4 | 50 |
18 |
♀ sets 8 2 |
23 | 3 |
clouds, wind |
7 | 9 |
4 | 51 |
♎ | 2 |
Philosophy as |
24 | 4 |
and |
7 | 8 |
4 | 52 |
15 |
well as Foppery |
25 | 5 |
Conv. St. Paul. |
7 | 7 |
4 | 53 |
28 |
✱ ♂ ☿ often |
26 | 6 |
Day incr. 38 m. |
7 | 6 |
4 | 54 |
♏ | 11 |
changes Fashion. |
27 | 7 |
cold, with |
7 | 5 |
4 | 55 |
24 |
♄ rise 4 48 |
28 | G |
4 p. Epiph. |
7 | 4 |
4 | 56 |
♐ | 7 |
7 *s sou. 6 47 |
29 | 2 |
snow or |
7 | 3 |
4 | 57 |
19 |
Sirius sou. 9 44 |
30 | 3 |
K. Char. behead. |
7 | 2 |
4 | 58 |
♑ | 1 |
☽ with ♄ & ♂ |
31 | 4 |
rain. |
7 | 1 |
4 | 59 |
13 |
☽ with ☿ |
[231]
January hath XXXI Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
New ☽ |
4 | 8 mor. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
First Q. |
12 | at noon. |
|
♑ | ♐ |
♋ | ♐ |
♒ | ♑ |
|
Full ● |
19 | 10 mor. |
1 | 12 |
29 | 11 |
7 | 15 |
26 |
N. | 2 |
Last Q. |
26 | 4 mor. |
6 | 17 |
30 | 10 |
11 | 21 |
24 | 5 |
|
12 | 23 |
♑ 0 | 9 |
15 | 29 |
19 | 2 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 12 Deg. |
17 | 28 |
1 | 8 |
19 | ♓ 5 |
14 |
S. | 4 |
☊ | 22 | 11 |
22 | ♒ 3 |
1 | 8 |
22 | 11 |
13 | 4 |
| 31 | 10 |
27 | 8 |
2 | 7 |
26 | 17 |
15 |
N. | 1 |
D. | ☽ rise |
☽ sou: | T. |
O S
l t
d i
l
e. |
The Greatness of that Power, which
has been exerted in the Creation, though
every Object in Nature shews it, will best appear
by considering a little the GREAT Works,
properly so called, of Nature; the Sun, and Planets,
and the fixed Stars. The Sun and Moon,
the most conspicuous to us of all the celestial Bodies,
are the only ones mentioned in the sacred
Text: But the Invention of that noblest
of Instruments the Telescope, and the Sagacity
of the Astronomers of later Ages, whose
Observations have improved and corrected those
of the foregoing, afford us a very different Idea
of the Solar System, from what the single
Consideration of those two most conspicuous
Bodies gives us. As this may probably fall into
the Hands of some, who have not Leisure or
Opportunities of reading Books of Astronomy,
the following brief View of our System, and
of the Immensity of the Creation, according
to the Theory of the Moderns, may not be
unacceptable.
It is proper, in the first Place, just to mention,
That the real Magnitudes, Distances,
Orbits, and other Affections of the Bodies of
our System are determined by what Astronomers
call their Parallaxes, and by their Elongations
from the Sun, and their apparent Magnitudes,
and other analogical Methods, which
would take up by far too much Time to explain
here; by which it is possible to determine |
1 |
4 | 39 |
9 M | 41 |
12 |
2 |
5 | 33 |
10 | 30 |
1 |
3 |
Moon |
11 | 19 |
2 |
4 |
sets. |
12 | 6 |
3 | 24 |
5 |
A. |
A. | 53 |
3 | 25 |
6 |
7 | 0 |
1 | 36 |
4 | 26 |
7 |
8 | 0 |
2 | 18 |
5 | 27 |
8 |
8 | 54 |
3 | 0 |
6 | 28 |
9 |
9 | 50 |
3 | 43 |
6 | 29 |
10 |
10 | 47 |
4 | 27 |
7 | 30 |
11 |
11 | 46 |
5 | 10 |
8 | 31 |
12 |
12 | 50 |
5 | 55 |
8 | Jan. |
13 |
M. | 50 |
6 | 44 |
9 | |
14 |
1 | 51 |
7 | 34 |
10 | 3 |
15 |
2 | 52 |
8 | 28 |
11 | 4 |
16 |
3 | 56 |
9 | 23 |
12 | 5 |
17 |
4 | 57 |
10 | 22 |
1 | 6 |
18 |
Moon |
11 | 21 |
2 | 7 |
19 |
rises |
12 | 25 |
3 | 8 |
20 |
A. |
Morn. |
3 | 9 |
21 |
7 | 56 |
1 | 30 |
4 | 10 |
22 |
9 | 11 |
2 | 26 |
5 | 11 |
23 |
10 | 18 |
3 | 16 |
6 | 12 |
24 |
11 | 19 |
4 | 5 |
7 | 13 |
25 |
12 | 22 |
4 | 54 |
7 | 14 |
26 |
M | 22 |
5 | 43 |
8 | 15 |
27 |
1 | 17 |
6 | 34 |
9 | 16 |
28 |
2 | 21 |
7 | 26 |
10 | 17 |
29 |
3 | 16 |
8 | 14 |
11 | 18 |
30 |
4 | 3 |
9 | 3 |
12 | 19 |
31 |
4 | 44 |
9 | 51 |
12 | 20 |
(deter-)mine their |
[232]
FEBRUARY.
II Month.
Before him fly the Horrors of the Night;
He looks upon the World—and all is Light.
Then the lone Wand'rers of the dreary Waste
Affrighted to their Holds return in Haste,
To Man give up the World, his native Reign,
Who then resumes his Pow'r, and rules the Plain.
How various are thy Works, Creator wise!
How to the Sight Beauties on Beauties rise!
Where
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 5 |
Days 10 h. long. |
7 | 0 |
5 | 0 |
♑ | 25 |
♃ sou. 9 28 |
2 | 6 |
Purification V. M. |
6 | 59 |
5 | 1 |
♒ | 7 |
♂ rise 4 20 |
3 | 7 |
Clouds |
6 | 58 |
5 | 2 |
19 |
Setting too good |
4 | G |
5 p. Epiph. |
6 | 56 |
5 | 4 |
♓ | 1 |
an Example |
5 | 2 |
and wind, |
6 | 55 |
5 | 5 |
13 |
☿ rise 5 34 |
6 | 3 |
with |
6 | 54 |
5 | 6 |
25 |
☌ ☽ ♀ ☌ ♄ ♂ |
7 | 4 |
falling |
6 | 53 |
5 | 7 |
♈ | 7 |
♀ sets 8 2 is a |
8 | 5 |
Days incr. 1 6 |
6 | 52 |
5 | 8 |
20 |
Kind of Slander |
9 | 6 |
weather, |
6 | 51 |
5 | 9 |
♉ | 3 |
seldom forgiven; |
10 | 7 |
then fair |
6 | 50 |
5 | 10 |
16 |
'tis Scandalum |
11 | G |
6 p. Epiph. |
6 | 48 |
5 | 12 |
29 |
Magnatum. |
12 | 2 |
and cold; |
6 | 47 |
5 | 13 |
♊ | 13 |
□ ♃ ♀ A great |
13 | 3 |
changeable |
6 | 46 |
5 | 14 |
27 |
♄ rise 3 49 |
14 | 4 |
Valentine. |
6 | 45 |
5 | 15 |
♋ | 12 |
☽ W. ♃ Talker |
15 | 5 |
Days inc. 1 22 |
6 | 43 |
5 | 17 |
27 |
□ ♂ ♀ may be |
16 | 6 |
and like for |
6 | 42 |
5 | 18 |
♌ | 12 |
7 *s sets 1 0 |
17 | 7 |
rain, or snow, |
6 | 41 |
5 | 19 |
27 |
♃ sou. 8 21 |
18 | G |
Septuagesima. |
6 | 40 |
5 | 20 |
♏ | 12 |
☉ in ♓ no Fool, |
19 | 2 |
then follows |
6 | 38 |
5 | 22 |
26 |
Sirius sou. 8 21 |
20 | 3 |
Day 10 46 long. |
6 | 37 |
5 | 23 |
♎ | 10 |
♂ rise 4 5 |
21 | 4 |
clear and cold |
6 | 36 |
5 | 24 |
24 |
♀ sets 9 0 |
22 | 5 |
weather; but |
6 | 35 |
5 | 25 |
♏ | 8 |
✱ ☉ ♄ but he |
23 | 6 |
soon changes to |
6 | 33 |
5 | 27 |
21 |
is one that |
24 | 7 |
St. Matthias. |
6 | 32 |
5 | 28 |
♐ | 3 |
△ ☉ ♃ relies |
25 | G |
Sexagesima. |
6 | 31 |
5 | 29 |
15 |
on him. |
26 | 2 |
snow |
6 | 30 |
5 | 30 |
27 |
♄ rises 3 0 |
27 | 3 |
or cold rain. |
6 | 28 |
5 | 32 |
♑ | 9 |
☽ with ♄ |
28 | 4 |
Day inc. 1 56 m. |
6 | 27 |
5 | 33 |
21 |
☽ with ♂ |
|
|
[233]
February hath XXVIII Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
New ☽ |
3 | 3 mor. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
First Q. |
10 | 12 aft. |
| ♒ |
♑ | ♋ |
♑ | ♓ |
♑ |
|
Full ● |
17 | 3 aft. |
1 | 13 |
2 | 7 |
0 | 23 |
19 |
N. | 5 |
Last Q. |
24 | 7 aft. |
6 | 18 |
3 | 7 |
3 | 29 |
24 | 4 |
|
12 | 24 |
3 | 6 |
7 | ♈ 6 |
♒ 0 |
S. | 3 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 9 Deg. |
17 | 29 |
4 | 6 |
11 | 12 |
7 | 5 |
☊ |
22 | 8 |
22 | ♓ 4 |
4 | 6 |
14 | 17 |
14 | 0 |
|
28 | 7 |
27 | 19 |
4 | 6 |
18 | 23 |
22 |
N. | 4 |
D. |
☽ rise |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
their Magnitudes and Distances, when
those Distances are not too great to yield a
Parallax. Astronomers, for Example, know
certainly the Distance of the Moon from the
Earth, viz. 240 thousand Miles, because the
Moon yields a very sensible Parallax; and they
know, that the Sun's Distance from the Earth
is very probably, at least, ten thousand Times
the Diameter or Thickness of the Earth,
which is about eight thousand Miles, and
brings the whole Distance to about eighty
Millions of Miles. It is, I say, hardly to be
doubted, that the Distance from the Sun to
the Earth is, at least, eighty Millions of
Miles; but it is not certainly known, whether
it is not a great deal more. In the Year
1761, the Distance of all the Planets from the
Sun will be determined to a great Degree of
Exactness by Observations on a Transit of the
Planet Venus over the Face of the Sun, which
is to happen the 6th of May, O.S. in that Year.
But, according to the present Theory, the
Sun, to appear of the Magnitude he does to
our Eyes at the Distance of eighty Millions of
Miles, must be a Body a great many hundred
thousand Times larger than the Earth, so that
if his Centre were placed where that of the
Earth is, his outward Surface would extend
one hundred and forty thousand Miles higher
than the Orbit of the Moon, his Diameter or
Thickness being seven hundred and sixty thousand Miles, whereas
that of the Earth is but about eight thousand. This amazing World |
1 |
5 | 29 |
10 | 39 |
1 | 21 |
2 |
Moon |
12 | 24 |
2 | 22 |
3 |
sets |
A. | 9 |
3 | 23 |
4 |
A. |
12 | 52 |
3 | 24 |
5 |
7 | 45 |
1 | 35 |
4 | 25 |
6 |
8 | 39 |
2 | 18 |
5 | 26 |
7 |
9 | 39 |
3 | 1 |
6 | 27 |
8 |
10 | 41 |
3 | 50 |
6 | 28 |
9 |
11 | 44 |
4 | 38 |
7 | 29 |
10 |
12 | 47 |
5 | 29 |
8 | 30 |
11 |
M. | 47 |
6 | 19 |
9 | 31 |
12 |
1 | 43 |
7 | 18 |
10 | Feb. |
13 |
2 | 46 |
8 | 17 |
11 | |
14 |
3 | 41 |
9 | 16 |
12 | 3 |
15 |
4 | 34 |
10 | 15 |
1 | 4 |
16 |
Moon |
11 | 14 |
2 | 5 |
17 |
rises |
12 | 10 |
3 | 6 |
18 |
A. |
Morn |
3 | 7 |
19 |
7 | 53 |
1 | 6 |
4 | 8 |
20 |
9 | 2 |
1 | 57 |
4 | 9 |
21 |
10 | 9 |
2 | 48 |
5 | 10 |
22 |
11 | 19 |
3 | 40 |
6 | 11 |
23 |
12 | 17 |
4 | 32 |
7 | 12 |
24 |
M. | 17 |
5 | 20 |
8 | 13 |
25 |
1 | 8 |
6 | 8 |
9 | 14 |
26 |
2 | 0 |
6 | 58 |
9 | 15 |
27 |
2 | 48 |
7 | 47 |
10 | 16 |
28 |
3 | 27 |
8 | 34 |
11 | 17 |
of |
[234]
MARCH.
III Month.
Where Goodness worthy of a God bestows
His Gifts on all, and without Bounds o'erflows;
Where Wisdom bright appears, and Pow'r divine,
And where Infinitude itself doth shine;
Where Excellence invisible's exprest,
And in his glorious Works the God appears confest.
With Life thy Hand hath stock'd this earthly Plain,
Nor less the spacious Empire of the Main.
There
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris. |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 5 |
St. David. |
6 | 26 |
5 | 34 |
♒ | 3 |
✱ ♀ ☿ When |
2 | 6 |
Cool and |
6 | 24 |
5 | 36 |
15 |
7 *s set 12 0 |
3 | 7 |
windy, |
6 | 23 |
5 | 37 |
27 |
☽ w. ☿ Reason |
4 | G |
Shrove Sunday. |
6 | 22 |
5 | 38 |
♓ | 9 |
♃ sou. 7 25 |
5 | 2 |
then snow |
6 | 20 |
5 | 40 |
21 |
♀ sets 9 28 |
6 | 3 |
Shrove Tuesday. |
6 | 19 |
5 | 41 |
♈ | 4 |
preaches, if you |
7 | 4 |
Ash Wednesday. |
6 | 18 |
5 | 42 |
17 |
✱ ♄ ☿ won't |
8 | 5 |
Days 11 28 long |
6 | 16 |
5 | 44 |
♉ | 0 |
☽ w. ♀ hear her |
9 | 6 |
follow'd by sharp |
6 | 15 |
5 | 45 |
13 |
♂ ri. 3 50 she'll |
10 | 7 |
nipping weather; |
6 | 14 |
5 | 46 |
26 |
△ ♄ ♀ box your |
11 | G |
1st in Lent. |
6 | 12 |
5 | 48 |
♊ | 9 |
Sirius so. 7 6. |
12 | 2 |
Day inc. 2 28 m. |
6 | 11 |
5 | 49 |
23 |
☍ ♄ ♃ Ears. |
13 | 3 |
now fine and |
6 | 10 |
5 | 50 |
♋ | 7 |
☽ with ♃ |
14 | 4 |
Ember Week. |
6 | 8 |
5 | 52 |
21 |
♄ rise 2 4 |
15 | 5 |
pleasant for |
6 | 7 |
5 | 53 |
♌ | 6 |
♃ set 2 9 |
16 | 6 |
the season; |
6 | 6 |
5 | 54 |
21 |
Sirius set 11 51 |
17 | 7 |
St. Patrick. |
6 | 4 |
5 | 56 |
♍ | 6 |
♂ rise 3 43 |
18 | G |
2d in Lent. |
6 | 3 |
5 | 57 |
21 |
7 *s set 11 4 |
19 | 2 |
then |
6 | 2 |
5 | 58 |
♎ | 5 |
☌ ☉ ☿ Equal |
20 | 3 |
Days 12 long. |
6 | 0 |
6 | 0 |
19 |
☉ in ♈ Day and |
21 | 4 |
clouds |
5 | 59 |
6 | 1 |
♏ | 3 |
□ ♄ ☿ Night. |
22 | 5 |
and |
5 | 58 |
6 | 2 |
17 |
✱ ♂ ☿ It is not |
23 | 6 |
high winds |
5 | 56 |
6 | 4 |
♐ | 0 |
□ ♃ ☿ Leisure |
24 | 7 |
Days inc. 3 h. |
5 | 55 |
6 | 5 |
12 |
♀ sets 9 57 |
25 | G |
Annunciation. |
5 | 54 |
6 | 6 |
24 |
□ ☉ ♄ that is |
26 | 2 |
with rain and |
5 | 52 |
6 | 8 |
♑ | 6 |
☽ with ♄ not |
27 | 3 |
cold, but |
5 | 51 |
6 | 9 |
18 |
□ ☉ ♃ used. |
28 | 4 |
grows |
5 | 50 |
6 | 10 |
♒ | 0 |
♄ rise 1 17 |
29 | 5 |
more |
5 | 48 |
6 | 12 |
12 |
☽ with ♂ |
30 | 6 |
moderate. |
5 | 47 |
6 | 13 |
24 |
Sirius set 11 0 |
31 | 7 |
Day 12 30 long. |
5 | 45 |
6 | 15 |
♓ | 6 |
♃ sets 1 15 |
[235]
March hath XXXI Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
New ☽ |
4 | 11 aft. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
First Q. |
12 | 10 mor. |
| ♓ |
♑ | ♋ |
♑ | ♈ |
♓ |
|
Full ● |
19 | 1 mor. |
4 | 14 |
5 | 6 |
22 | 29 |
0 |
N. | 4 |
Last Q. |
26 | at noon. |
9 | 19 |
5 | 6 |
26 | ♉ 4 |
9 |
S. | 1 |
|
12 | 22 |
5 | 6 |
28 | 7 |
15 | 4 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 7 Deg. |
17 | 27 |
5 | 6 |
♒ 2 | 12 |
25 | 4 |
☊ |
22 | 6 |
22 | ♈ 2 |
5 | 7 |
6 | 17 |
♈ 6 |
N. | 1 |
|
31 | 6 |
27 | 7 |
6 | 7 |
19 | 23 |
16 | 5 |
D. |
☽ rise |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
of Fire turns once round in about twenty-five
Days. This is known by a Number of dusky
Spots, which appear upon the Sun's Face, so
as to be seen sometimes with the naked Eye,
when he shines through a thin Cloud or Mist;
but are always observable with the Help of a
Telescope, with a dark Glass for the Security
of the Eye. These Spots could not be visible
at the Distance of the Sun, if they were not
as large as the whole Earth; but such of them
as appear of a considerable Breadth, as they often
do, must be still vastly larger. They never
continue long to make the same Appearance;
but are always rising and vanishing again.
They are probably Exhalations floating
in the Sun's Atmosphere at some Distance from
his Body, or Masses of Cynder fallen from
that Atmosphere upon his Surface.
This glorious Luminary, the Centre of our
System, has six opaque Globes, commonly
called the Planets, going round him at different
Distances, and in different Periods, but all
from West to East, as follows.
1. Mercury, a Body considerably inferior in
Size to the Earth, performs his Course in about
three Months, which is his Year, at the
Distance of thirty Millions of Miles from the
Sun. The Heat of the Sun in Mercury (if
there be no Provision made for mitigating it)
must be such, as, if it were the same on the
Earth, would keep all the Waters upon it
constantly boiling; And the Brightness of the |
1 |
4 | 4 |
9 M | 21 |
12 | 18 |
2 |
4 | 44 |
10 | 6 |
1 | 19 |
3 |
Moon |
10 | 50 |
1 | 20 |
4 |
sets. |
11 | 34 |
2 | 21 |
5 |
A. |
A. | 17 |
3 | 22 |
6 |
7 | 35 |
1 | 4 |
4 | 23 |
7 |
8 | 35 |
1 | 51 |
4 | 24 |
8 |
9 | 40 |
2 | 41 |
5 | 25 |
9 |
10 | 39 |
3 | 30 |
6 | 26 |
10 |
11 | 44 |
4 | 22 |
7 | 27 |
11 |
12 | 43 |
5 | 15 |
8 | 28 |
12 |
M. | 43 |
6 | 13 |
9 | Mar. |
13 |
1 | 36 |
7 | 10 |
10 | |
14 |
2 | 27 |
8 | 7 |
11 | 3 |
15 |
3 | 19 |
9 | 4 |
12 | 4 |
16 |
4 | 2 |
10 | 1 |
1 | 5 |
17 |
4 | 42 |
10 | 58 |
1 | 6 |
18 |
Moon |
11 | 54 |
2 | 7 |
19 |
rises |
12 | 44 |
3 | 8 |
20 |
A. |
M. | 44 |
3 | 9 |
21 |
9 | 3 |
1 | 37 |
4 | 10 |
22 |
10 | 12 |
2 | 30 |
5 | 11 |
23 |
11 | 15 |
3 | 24 |
6 | 12 |
24 |
12 | 4 |
4 | 12 |
7 | 13 |
25 |
M. | 4 |
5 | 0 |
8 | 14 |
26 |
0 | 43 |
5 | 49 |
8 | 15 |
27 |
1 | 29 |
6 | 38 |
9 | 16 |
28 |
2 | 12 |
7 | 24 |
10 | 17 |
29 |
2 | 47 |
8 | 10 |
11 | 18 |
30 |
3 | 21 |
8 | 54 |
11 | 19 |
31 |
3 | 50 |
9 | 38 |
12 | 20 |
Sun's |
[236]
APRIL.
IV Month.
There the tall Ships the rolling Billows sweep,
And bound triumphant o'er th' unfathom'd Deep.
There great Leviathan in regal Pride,
The scaly Nations crouding by his Side,
Far in the dark Recesses of the Main
O'er Nature's Wastes extends his boundless Reign.
Round the dark Bottoms of the Mountains roves,
The hoary Deep swells dreadful as he moves.
Now
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | G |
4th in Lent. |
5 | 44 |
6 | 16 |
♓ | 18 |
♂ rise 3 22 |
2 | 2 |
Rain, and |
5 | 43 |
6 | 17 |
♈ | 0 |
The Good-will |
3 | 3 |
mild |
5 | 42 |
6 | 18 |
13 |
of the Governed |
4 | 4 |
weather, |
5 | 40 |
6 | 20 |
26 |
☽ w. ☿ will be |
5 | 5 |
Days inc. 3 32 m. |
5 | 39 |
6 | 21 |
♉ | 19 |
✱ ☉ ♂ starv'd, |
6 | 6 |
grows windy |
5 | 38 |
6 | 22 |
22 |
♀ sets 10 26 if |
7 | 7 |
and cool, then |
5 | 37 |
6 | 23 |
♊ | 6 |
☽ w. ♀ not fed |
8 | G |
5th in Lent. |
5 | 35 |
6 | 25 |
20 |
7 *s sets 9 50 by |
9 | 2 |
warm and |
5 | 34 |
6 | 26 |
♋ | 4 |
☽ with ♃ the |
10 | 3 |
springing, |
5 | 33 |
6 | 27 |
18 |
good Deeds of |
11 | 4 |
Days 12 56 long. |
5 | 32 |
6 | 28 |
♌ | 2 |
the Governors. |
12 | 5 |
follow'd |
5 | 30 |
6 | 30 |
16 |
♄ rise 12 21 |
13 | 6 |
by clouds |
5 | 29 |
6 | 31 |
♍ | 1 |
7 *s sets 9 30 |
14 | 7 |
and rain, |
5 | 28 |
6 | 32 |
15 |
♃ set 12 26 |
15 | G |
Palm Sunday. |
5 | 26 |
6 | 34 |
29 |
Sirius set 10 2 |
16 | 2 |
then fair and |
5 | 25 |
6 | 35 |
♎ | 13 |
♂ rise 2 55 |
17 | 3 |
pleasant again; |
5 | 24 |
6 | 36 |
27 |
♀ sets 10 37 |
18 | 4 |
Days 13 16 long. |
5 | 23 |
6 | 37 |
♏ | 10 |
Paintings and |
19 | 5 |
Maund. Thursday |
5 | 22 |
6 | 38 |
23 |
☉ in ♉ Fightings |
20 | 6 |
Good Friday. |
5 | 20 |
6 | 40 |
♐ | 6 |
are best |
21 | 7 |
now rain |
5 | 19 |
6 | 41 |
19 |
7 *s set 9 0 |
22 | G |
Easter-day. |
5 | 18 |
6 | 42 |
♑ | 2 |
☽ with ♄ |
23 | 2 |
St. George. |
5 | 17 |
6 | 43 |
14 |
Sirius sets 9 33 |
24 | 3 |
and cool, |
5 | 16 |
6 | 44 |
26 |
seen at a |
25 | 4 |
St. Mark. |
5 | 15 |
6 | 45 |
♒ | 8 |
△ ☉ ♄ |
26 | 5 |
Pr. Will. b. 1721 |
5 | 13 |
6 | 47 |
20 |
distance. |
27 | 6 |
then clouds |
5 | 12 |
6 | 48 |
♓ | 2 |
☽ with ♂ |
28 | 7 |
Day 13 38 long. |
5 | 11 |
6 | 49 |
14 |
♄ rise 11 20 |
29 | G |
1 past Easter. |
5 | 10 |
6 | 50 |
26 |
✱ ☉ ♃ |
30 | 2 |
and wind. |
5 | 8 |
6 | 52 |
♈ | 9 |
♃ sets 11 37 |
[237]
April hath XXX Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
New ☽ |
3 | 2 aft. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
First Q. |
10 | 5 aft. |
| ♈ |
♑ | ♋ |
♒ | ♉ |
♈ | |
Full ● |
17 | 2 aft. |
1 | 12 |
6 | 7 |
13 | 28 |
26 |
N. | 4 |
Last Q. |
25 | 8 mor. |
6 | 17 |
6 | 8 |
16 | ♊ 3 |
♉ 4 |
S. | 1 |
|
12 | 23 |
6 | 8 |
21 | 8 |
12 | 5 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 6 Deg. |
17 | 28 |
6 | 9 |
24 | 12 |
17 | 1 |
☊ |
22 | 6 |
22 | ♉ 3 |
6 | 9 |
28 | 15 |
19 |
N. | 4 |
|
30 | 6 |
27 | 8 |
6 | 10 |
♓ 1 | 18 |
19 | 4 |
D. |
☽ rise |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
Sun's Light must be such as would be quite intolerable
to Eyes like ours. But it does not
follow, that Mercury is therefore uninhabitable;
since it can be no Difficulty for the Divine
Power and Wisdom to accommodate the
Inhabitants to the Place they are to inhabit;
as the Cold we see Frogs and Fishes bear very
well, would soon deprive any of our Species of
Life. To an Eye such as ours, the Sun, seen
from this Planet, would appear seven times as
large as he does to us. He is always so near
the Sun, that we have no Opportunity of discovering
whether he turns round upon his own
Axis, or not, and consequently cannot determine
what Length the Days and Nights in
Mercury are. He is seen sometimes with Telescopes
horned like the Moon, and sometimes
like a Half moon, but never fully illuminated,
because that Side of the Planet, on which the
Sun shines, is never turned full towards us, except
when he is so near the Sun, as to be lost
in the Brightness of his Beams. His enlightned
Side is always towards the Sun, which
shews, that he only shines with the borrowed
Light of the Sun. That this Planet revolves
round the Sun in an Orbit nearer to him, than
that of the Earth, is plain, because he is never
seen opposite to the Sun, but always in the
West, when he is seen at Sun-setting, and in
the East, when he is seen at Sun-rising; and
that never beyond the Distance of twenty-eight
degrees from the Sun (a Degree is about |
1 |
4 | 19 |
10 | 21 |
1 | 21 |
2 |
Moon |
11 | 4 |
2 | 22 |
3 |
sets. |
11 | 53 |
2 | 23 |
4 |
A. |
A. | 41 |
3 | 24 |
5 |
8 | 38 |
1 | 32 |
4 | 25 |
6 |
9 | 41 |
2 | 22 |
5 | 26 |
7 |
10 | 48 |
3 | 19 |
6 | 27 |
8 |
11 | 51 |
4 | 16 |
7 | 28 |
9 |
12 | 40 |
5 | 14 |
8 | 29 |
10 |
M. | 40 |
6 | 11 |
9 | 30 |
11 |
1 | 25 |
7 | 6 |
10 | 31 |
12 |
2 | 6 |
8 | 0 |
11 | Apr. |
13 |
2 | 46 |
8 | 53 |
11 | |
14 |
3 | 25 |
9 | 46 |
12 | 3 |
15 |
4 | 0 |
10 | 38 |
1 | 4 |
16 |
Moon |
1 | 29 |
2 | 5 |
17 |
rises |
12 | 21 |
3 | 6 |
18 |
A. |
M. | 21 |
3 | 7 |
19 |
8 | 52 |
1 | 12 |
4 | 8 |
20 |
9 | 56 |
2 | 6 |
5 | 9 |
21 |
10 | 53 |
3 | 0 |
6 | 10 |
22 |
11 | 39 |
3 | 49 |
6 | 11 |
23 |
12 | 17 |
4 | 37 |
7 | 12 |
24 |
M. | 17 |
5 | 28 |
8 | 13 |
25 |
0 | 49 |
6 | 20 |
9 | 14 |
26 |
1 | 23 |
7 | 0 |
10 | 15 |
27 |
1 | 58 |
7 | 40 |
10 | 16 |
28 |
2 | 30 |
8 | 23 |
11 | 17 |
29 |
3 | 1 |
9 | 6 |
12 | 18 |
30 |
3 | 28 |
9 | 55 |
12 | 19 |
twice |
[238]
MAY.
V Month.
Now views the awful Throne of antient Night,
Then mounts exulting to the Realms of Light;
Now launches to the Deep, now stems the Shore,
An Ocean scarce contains the wild Uproar.
Whate'er of Life replenishes the Flood,
Or walks the Earth, or warbles thro' the Wood,
In Nature's various Wants to thee complains,
The Hand, which gave the Life, the Life sustains.
To
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 3 |
Philip & Jacob. |
5 | 7 |
6 | 53 |
♈ | 22 |
♂ rise 2 30 |
2 | 4 |
Rain and |
5 | 6 |
6 | 54 |
♉ | 5 |
♀ set 10 28 |
3 | 5 |
Day inc. 4 40 |
5 | 5 |
6 | 55 |
18 |
☽ w ☿ ✱ ♄ ♂ |
4 | 6 |
gusts |
5 | 3 |
6 | 57 |
♊ | 2 |
If you would |
5 | 7 |
in some |
5 | 2 |
6 | 58 |
16 |
☽ with ♀ reap |
6 | G |
2 past Easter. |
5 | 1 |
6 | 59 |
♋ | 0 |
☌ ☉ ☿ Praise |
7 | 2 |
places, with |
5 | 0 |
7 | 0 |
14 |
☽ with ♃ you |
8 | 3 |
thunder, |
4 | 59 |
7 | 1 |
28 |
7 *s set 7 56 |
9 | 4 |
Day 14 4 long. |
4 | 58 |
7 | 2 |
♌ | 13 |
must sow the |
10 | 5 |
then fine |
4 | 57 |
7 | 3 |
27 |
Sirius set 8 27 |
11 | 6 |
growing |
4 | 56 |
7 | 4 |
♍ | 11 |
✱ ♂ ☿ Seeds, |
12 | 7 |
weather, |
4 | 56 |
7 | 4 |
25 |
♄ rise 10 28 |
13 | G |
3 past Easter. |
4 | 55 |
7 | 5 |
♎ | 9 |
✱ ♃ ☿ Gentle |
14 | 2 |
pleasant, |
4 | 54 |
7 | 6 |
23 |
♃ set 10 49 |
15 | 3 |
with |
4 | 53 |
7 | 7 |
♏ | 6 |
♂ rise 2 3 |
16 | 4 |
Day inc. 5 6 |
4 | 52 |
7 | 8 |
19 |
Words and |
17 | 5 |
wind and |
4 | 51 |
7 | 9 |
♐ | 2 |
♀ set 9 46 |
18 | 6 |
flying |
4 | 50 |
7 | 10 |
15 |
useful Deeds. |
19 | 7 |
clouds, |
4 | 49 |
7 | 11 |
28 |
Ignorance leads |
20 | G |
4 past Easter. |
4 | 48 |
7 | 12 |
♑ | 10 |
☉ in ♊ ☌ ☽ ♄ |
21 | 2 |
follow'd |
4 | 47 |
7 | 13 |
22 |
Men into a |
22 | 3 |
Days 14 28 long. |
4 | 46 |
7 | 14 |
♒ | 4 |
Party, and |
23 | 4 |
by heat, |
4 | 45 |
7 | 15 |
16 |
Shame keeps |
24 | 5 |
then |
4 | 44 |
7 | 16 |
28 |
them from getting |
25 | 6 |
rain and |
4 | 44 |
7 | 16 |
♓ | 10 |
out again. |
26 | 7 |
thunder, |
4 | 43 |
7 | 17 |
22 |
☽ with ♂ |
27 | G |
Rogation Sunday |
4 | 42 |
7 | 18 |
♈ | 4 |
♄ rise 9 26 |
28 | 2 |
Day inc. 5 26 |
4 | 42 |
7 | 18 |
17 |
♃ set 10 6 |
29 | 3 |
K. Cha. resto. |
4 | 41 |
7 | 19 |
♉ | 0 |
♂ rise 1 32 |
30 | 4 |
pleasant. |
4 | 41 |
7 | 19 |
13 |
☽ with ☿ Haste |
31 | 5 |
Ascension Day. |
4 | 40 |
7 | 20 |
27 |
makes Waste. |
[239]
May hath XXXI Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
New ☽ |
3 | 2 mor. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
First Q. |
9 | 10 aft. |
| ♉ |
♑ | ♋ |
♓ | ♊ |
♉ | |
Full ● |
17 | 2 mor. |
2 | 12 |
6 | 10 |
5 | 21 |
17 |
N. | 0 |
Last Q. |
24 | 12 aft. |
7 | 17 |
6 | 11 |
9 | 23 |
14 |
S. | 5 |
|
12 | 22 |
6 | 11 |
13 | 25 |
12 |
3 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 6 Deg. |
17 | 27 |
5 | 12 |
17 | 27 |
11 |
N. | 2 |
☊ |
22 | 6 |
22 | ♊ 2 |
5 | 14 |
20 | 26 |
11 |
5 |
|
31 | 5 |
27 | 6 |
5 | 15 |
24 | 25 |
14 |
3 |
D. |
☽ rise |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
twice the apparent Breadth of the Moon.)
The same Considerations prove, that the next
Planet, viz.
2. Venus revolves round the Sun in an Orbit
including that of Mercury within it: For she
is always seen in the Neighbourhood of the
Sun, and never appears in the West when the
Sun is in the East, nor contrariwise; nor ever
removes above forty-eight Degrees from him.
When she is on one Side of her Orbit, she it our
Morning- and on the other, our Evening Star.
This Planet turns round upon its own Axis in
twenty-three Hours, as the Earth does in
twenty-four. Venus performs her annual Revolution
round the Sun in two hundred twenty-four
Days, at the Distance of about fifty-nine
Millions of Miles from the Sun. She is
nearly of the Size of the Earth. She appears
through a Telescope exactly as the Moon does
to the naked Eye, partly enlightened, and
partly dark, and with the same Inequalities on
her Face as on that of the Moon. Some
Astronomers fancy they have seen a Satellite
or Moon near Venus, like that belonging to
the Earth: But it is not yet certain whether
they have deceived themselves or not.
3. The Earth, which we inhabit, possesses
the next Place in the Solar System, and, at
the Distance of about eighty Millions of Miles,
as above, performs her yearly Revolution
round the Sun in about three hundred sixty-five
Days, and at the same time, as a Bowl upon a |
1 |
4 | 0 |
10 | 44 |
1 | 20 |
2 |
Moon |
11 | 31 |
2 | 21 |
3 |
sets. |
A. | 21 |
3 | 22 |
4 |
A. |
1 | 17 |
4 | 23 |
5 |
9 | 43 |
2 | 14 |
5 | 24 |
6 |
10 | 40 |
3 | 12 |
6 | 25 |
7 |
11 | 29 |
4 | 10 |
7 | 26 |
8 |
12 | 3 |
5 | 6 |
8 | 27 |
9 |
M. | 3 |
6 | 2 |
9 | 28 |
10 |
0 | 48 |
6 | 54 |
9 | 29 |
11 |
1 | 23 |
7 | 45 |
10 | 30 |
12 |
2 | 2 |
8 | 37 |
11 | May |
13 |
2 | 36 |
9 | 29 |
12 | |
14 |
3 | 12 |
10 | 20 |
1 | 3 |
15 |
3 | 45 |
11 | 8 |
2 | 4 |
16 |
Moon |
11 | 56 |
2 | 5 |
17 |
rises |
12 | 48 |
3 | 6 |
18 |
A. |
M. | 48 |
3 | 7 |
19 |
9 | 31 |
1 | 42 |
4 | 8 |
20 |
10 | 14 |
2 | 30 |
5 | 9 |
21 |
10 | 51 |
3 | 19 |
6 | 10 |
22 |
11 | 29 |
4 | 6 |
7 | 11 |
23 |
12 | 0 |
4 | 53 |
7 | 12 |
24 |
Morn |
5 | 36 |
8 | 13 |
25 |
0 | 27 |
6 | 19 |
9 | 14 |
26 |
0 | 56 |
7 | 2 |
10 | 15 |
27 |
1 | 27 |
7 | 45 |
10 | 16 |
28 |
1 | 58 |
8 | 32 |
11 | 17 |
29 |
2 | 30 |
9 | 20 |
12 | 18 |
30 |
3 | 8 |
10 | 13 |
1 | 19 |
31 |
Moon |
11 | 6 |
2 | 20 |
Bowling- |
[240]
JUNE.
VI Month.
To each th' appointed Sustenance bestows,
To each the noxious and the healthful shows.
Thou spread'st thy Bounty—meagre Famine flies:
Thou hid'st thy Face—their vital Vigour dies.
Thy pow'ful Word again restores their Breath;
Renew'd Creation triumphs over Death.
Th' Almighty o'er his Works casts down his Eye,
And views their various Excellence with joy;
His
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 6 |
Clouds and |
4 | 40 |
7 | 20 |
♊ | 11 |
♀ set 8 17 |
2 | 7 |
like for |
4 | 39 |
7 | 21 |
25 |
☽ with ♀ Many |
3 | G |
6 past Easter. |
4 | 39 |
7 | 21 |
♋ | 9 |
☽ with ♃ have |
4 | 2 |
rain, with |
4 | 39 |
7 | 21 |
24 |
quarrel'd about |
5 | 3 |
Day 14 44 long. |
4 | 38 |
7 | 22 |
♌ | 9 |
Religion, that |
6 | 4 |
wind and |
4 | 38 |
7 | 22 |
23 |
☿ rise 3 28 |
7 | 5 |
thunder; |
4 | 38 |
7 | 22 |
♍ | 7 |
never practis'd |
8 | 6 |
Days inc 5 36 |
4 | 37 |
7 | 23 |
21 |
☌ ☉ ♀ it. |
9 | 7 |
flying |
4 | 37 |
7 | 23 |
♎ | 5 |
Sudden Power |
10 | G |
Whitsunday. |
4 | 37 |
7 | 23 |
19 |
□ ♄ ♂ is apt to |
11 | 2 |
St. Barnabas. |
4 | 36 |
7 | 24 |
♏ | 2 |
be insolent, Sudden |
12 | 6 |
clouds, warm |
4 | 36 |
7 | 24 |
15 |
♄ ri. 8 13 |
13 | 4 |
Ember Week. |
4 | 36 |
7 | 24 |
28 |
♃ set 9 8 |
14 | 5 |
Days 14 50 |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♐ | 11 |
♂ rise 12 52 |
15 | 6 |
and inclin'd |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
24 |
Liberty saucy; |
16 | 7 |
to rain, |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♑ | 6 |
☌ ☽ ♄ ✱ ♂ ☿ |
17 | G |
Trinity Sunday |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
18 |
that behaves best |
18 | 2 |
Days inc. 5 40 |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♒ | 0 |
☌ ♀ ☿ which |
19 | 3 |
with wind |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
12 |
has grown gradually. |
20 | 4 |
and |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
24 |
✱ ♂ ♀ |
21 | 5 |
Corp Christ. |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♓ | 6 |
☉ in ♋ |
22 | 6 |
K. Geo. Acces. |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
18 |
He that best |
23 | 7 |
thunder, |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♈ | 0 |
understands the |
24 | G |
St. John Baptist. |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
12 |
☌ ☽ ♂ ☍ ☉ ♄ |
25 | 2 |
then |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
25 |
World, least |
26 | 3 |
cooler, |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♉ | 8 |
♃ set 8 32 likes |
27 | 4 |
but soon |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
21 |
♄ rise 7 8 it. |
28 | 5 |
Days 14 50 |
4 | 35 |
7 | 25 |
♊ | 5 |
☌ ☽ ♀ ☍ ♄ ☿ |
29 | 6 |
grows hot again. |
4 | 36 |
7 | 24 |
19 |
♂ rise 12 14 |
30 | 7 |
St. Peter. |
4 | 36 |
7 | 24 |
♋ | 4 |
☽ with ☿ |
King GEORGE's 27th Year begins the 22d Day |
[241]
June hath XXX Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
New ☽ |
1 | at noon |
First Q. |
8 | 6 mor. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
15 | at noon. |
| ♊ |
♑ | ♋ |
♓ | ♊ |
♉ |
|
Last Q. |
23 | 4 aft. |
1 | 11 |
5 | 16 |
27 | 23 |
18 |
S. | 3 |
New ☽ |
30 | 9 aft. |
6 | 16 |
4 | 18 |
♈ 1 | 20 |
23 | 5 |
|
12 | 22 |
4 | 19 |
5 | 15 |
♊ 1 |
N. | 1 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 5 Deg. |
17 | 26 |
4 | 20 |
9 | 13 |
10 | 5 |
☊ |
22 | 4 |
22 | ♋ 1 |
3 | 21 |
13 | 11 |
20 | 4 |
|
30 | 3 |
27 | 6 |
3 | 22 |
16 | 10 |
♋ 1 |
S. | 1 |
D. |
☽ set. |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
Bowling-green not only proceeds forward, but
likewise turns round upon its own Axis, so
does the Earth turn once round upon its Axis
as it goes along, every twenty-four Hours. It
is astonishing, and even frightful to think, that
this vast and cumbrous Globe of Earth and
Sea, which is almost twenty-five thousand
Miles in Circumference, has received such an
Impulse from the Almighty Arm, as has carried
it constantly for above these five thousand
Years, that we know of, round the Sun at
the Rate of at least fifty thousand Miles every
Hour, which it must absolutely do, to go round
the Sun in a Year at the Distance of eighty
Millions of Miles from him. So that, if an
Angel were to come from some other World,
and to place himself near the Earth's Way,
he would see it pass by him with a Swiftness,
to which that of a Cannon Ball is but as one
to one hundred, and would be left behind by
it no less than the above Number of Miles in
the Space of one Hour. There is no more
Reason to doubt, that the Earth goes in this
Manner round the Sun, than there would be
for a Passenger in a Ship on smooth Water,
who saw the Objects upon Land continually
passing by, to doubt whether the Vessel he
was in, or the Shore, was in Motion. We see
the Sun continually changes his Place with respect
to the fixed Stars, and must own it to be
highly improbable that this Change of Place
is owing to any Change in the whole Heavens, |
1 |
sets. |
A. | 3 |
3 | 21 |
2 |
A. |
1 | 0 |
4 | 22 |
3 |
9 | 15 |
1 | 58 |
4 | 23 |
4 |
10 | 7 |
2 | 56 |
5 | 24 |
5 |
10 | 49 |
3 | 52 |
6 | 25 |
6 |
11 | 25 |
4 | 47 |
7 | 26 |
7 |
12 | 0 |
5 | 38 |
8 | 27 |
8 |
Morn |
6 | 28 |
9 | 28 |
9 |
0 | 34 |
7 | 20 |
10 | 29 |
10 |
1 | 8 |
8 | 11 |
11 | 30 |
11 |
1 | 42 |
8 | 58 |
11 | 31 |
12 |
2 | 16 |
9 | 46 |
12 | June |
13 |
2 | 57 |
10 | 38 |
1 | |
14 |
Moon |
11 | 29 |
2 | 3 |
15 |
rises |
12 | 23 |
3 | 4 |
16 |
A. |
M. | 23 |
3 | 5 |
17 |
8 | 51 |
1 | 9 |
4 | 6 |
18 |
9 | 26 |
1 | 55 |
4 | 7 |
19 |
10 | 0 |
2 | 40 |
5 | 8 |
20 |
10 | 27 |
3 | 24 |
6 | 9 |
21 |
10 | 53 |
4 | 8 |
7 | 10 |
22 |
11 | 23 |
4 | 50 |
7 | 11 |
23 |
11 | 51 |
5 | 32 |
8 | 12 |
24 |
12 | 22 |
6 | 18 |
9 | 13 |
25 |
M | 22 |
7 | 4 |
10 | 14 |
26 |
0 | 55 |
7 | 53 |
10 | 15 |
27 |
1 | 32 |
8 | 42 |
11 | 16 |
28 |
2 | 14 |
9 | 39 |
12 | 17 |
29 |
Moon |
10 | 36 |
1 | 18 |
30 |
sets |
11 | 37 |
2 | 19 |
which, |
[242]
JULY.
VII Month.
His Works with Rev'rence own his pow'rful Hand,
And humble Nature waits his dread Command,
He looks upon the Earth—her Pillars shake,
And from her Centre her Foundations quake.
The Hills he touches—Clouds of Smoke arise,
And sulph'rous Streams mount heavy to the Skies.
Whilst Life informs this Frame, that Life shall be
(O First and Greatest!) sacred all to Thee.
Thy
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | G |
2 past Trin. |
4 | 30 |
7 | 24 |
♋ | 19 |
☽ with ♃ |
2 | 2 |
Days dec. 2 m. |
4 | 36 |
7 | 24 |
♌ | 4 |
☌ ☉ ☿ Anger |
3 | 3 |
Clouds |
4 | 37 |
7 | 23 |
19 |
is never without |
4 | 4 |
and |
4 | 37 |
7 | 23 |
♍ | 4 |
a Reason, but |
5 | 5 |
wind, |
4 | 37 |
7 | 23 |
19 |
seldom with a |
6 | 6 |
then hot, |
4 | 38 |
7 | 22 |
♎ | 2 |
good One. |
7 | 7 |
Days dec. 6 m. |
4 | 38 |
7 | 22 |
16 |
♀ rise 2 27 |
8 | G |
3 past Trin. |
4 | 39 |
7 | 21 |
29 |
He that is of |
9 | 2 |
follow'd by |
4 | 39 |
7 | 21 |
♏ | 12 |
□ ♃ ♂ ☌ ♃ ☿ |
10 | 3 |
rain and |
4 | 40 |
7 | 20 |
25 |
Opinion Money |
11 | 4 |
thunder-gusts |
4 | 40 |
7 | 20 |
♐ | 8 |
will do every |
12 | 5 |
|
4 | 41 |
7 | 19 |
20 |
♄ sou. 10 42 |
13 | 6 |
in many |
4 | 41 |
7 | 19 |
♑ | 2 |
☽ w. ♄ Thing, |
14 | 7 |
Days dec. 14 m. |
4 | 42 |
7 | 18 |
14 |
♂ rise 11 38 |
15 | G |
4 past Trin. |
4 | 43 |
7 | 17 |
26 |
may well be |
16 | 2 |
places, then |
4 | 43 |
7 | 17 |
♒ | 8 |
suspected of |
17 | 3 |
more |
4 | 44 |
7 | 16 |
20 |
♀ rise 2 3 |
18 | 4 |
settled and |
4 | 45 |
7 | 15 |
♓ | 2 |
☌ ☉ ♃ doing |
19 | 5 |
Days dec 20 m. |
4 | 45 |
7 | 15 |
14 |
✱ ♀ ☿ every |
20 | 6 |
somewhat |
4 | 46 |
7 | 14 |
26 |
7 *s rise 12 6 |
21 | 7 |
cooler; but |
4 | 47 |
7 | 13 |
♈ | 8 |
△ ♄ ♂ Thing |
22 | G |
5 past Trin. |
4 | 48 |
7 | 12 |
21 |
☉ in ♌ for |
23 | 2 |
grows hot |
4 | 49 |
7 | 11 |
♉ | 4 |
☽ w. ♂ Money. |
24 | 3 |
Dog Days begin |
4 | 50 |
7 | 10 |
17 |
An ill Wound, |
25 | 4 |
St. James. |
4 | 50 |
7 | 10 |
♊ | 0 |
but not an ill |
26 | 5 |
again, and |
4 | 51 |
7 | 9 |
14 |
☽ w. ♀ Name, |
27 | 6 |
Day 14 16 long. |
4 | 52 |
7 | 8 |
28 |
□ ☉ ♂ may be |
28 | 7 |
thunder |
4 | 53 |
7 | 7 |
♋ | 13 |
♄ sou. 9 30 |
29 | G |
6 past Trin. |
4 | 54 |
7 | 6 |
28 |
☽ w. ♃ healed. |
30 | 2 |
follows with |
4 | 55 |
7 | 5 |
♌ | 13 |
♂ rise 10 58 |
31 | 3 |
rain. |
4 | 56 |
7 | 4 |
28 |
☽ with ☿ |
[243]
July hath XXXI Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
First Q. |
7 | at noon. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
15 | 6 mor. |
| ♋ |
♑ | ♋ |
♈ | ♊ |
♋ | |
Last Q. |
23 | 6 mor. |
2 | 11 |
3 | 23 |
20 | 10 |
11 |
S. | 5 |
New ☽ |
30 | 1 mor. |
7 | 16 |
2 | 24 |
23 | 11 |
21 |
1 |
|
12 | 20 |
2 | 25 |
26 | 12 |
♌ 1 |
N. | 4 |
|
|
12 | ♏ | 2 Deg. |
17 | 25 |
2 | 26 |
29 | 14 |
11 |
5 |
☊ |
22 | 1 |
22 | ♌ 0 |
1 | 27 |
♉ 2 | 17 |
20 |
1 |
|
31 | 0 |
27 | 5 |
1 | 29 |
5 | 20 |
28 |
S. | 4 |
D. |
☽ sets |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
which, considering the Distance of the starry
Heavens, would require a Motion infinitely
more rapid than that above ascribed to the
Earth. As for the common Objection against
the Earth's Motion, that we are not sensible
of it, and that a Stone thrown up from the
Earth ought not to fall down upon the same
Place again; it is answered at once by the above
Comparison of a Ship, from which (as
has been often found by Experiment) a Ball
fired directly up in the Air, does not fall behind
the Ship, let her Motion be ever so swift,
but, partaking of the Ship's Motion, is carried
forward in the Air, and falls down again
upon the Deck. And as to the Objections
taken from some Scripture Expressions, which
seem to contradict the Theory of the Earth's
Motion, it is plain, from innumerable Instances,
that Revelation was not given to Mankind
to make them Philosophers or deep Reasoners,
but to improve them in Virtue and
Piety; and that it was therefore proper it
should be expressed in a Manner accommodated
to common Capacities and popular Opinions
in all Points merely speculative, and
which were not to have any direct Influence
upon the Hearts and Lives of Men. The
Truth of the Matter is, that the Demonstrations
given by the incomparable Sir Isaac
Newton, have established the Doctrine of the
Motion of the Earth and other Planets, and
the Comets round the Sun, and of the |
1 |
A. |
A. | 38 |
3 | 20 |
2 |
8 | 38 |
1 | 35 |
4 | 21 |
3 |
9 | 19 |
2 | 32 |
5 | 22 |
4 |
9 | 57 |
3 | 27 |
6 | 23 |
5 |
10 | 30 |
4 | 19 |
7 | 24 |
6 |
11 | 5 |
5 | 9 |
8 | 25 |
7 |
11 | 37 |
5 | 59 |
8 | 26 |
8 |
12 | 13 |
6 | 48 |
9 | 27 |
9 |
M. | 13 |
7 | 37 |
10 | 28 |
10 |
0 | 53 |
8 | 29 |
11 | 29 |
11 |
1 | 33 |
9 | 19 |
12 | 30 |
12 |
2 | 24 |
10 | 12 |
1 | July |
13 |
3 | 15 |
10 | 59 |
1 | |
14 |
Moon |
11 | 45 |
2 | 3 |
15 |
rise |
12 | 34 |
3 | 4 |
16 |
A. |
M. | 34 |
3 | 5 |
17 |
8 | 21 |
1 | 12 |
4 | 6 |
18 |
8 | 50 |
1 | 55 |
4 | 7 |
19 |
9 | 20 |
2 | 38 |
5 | 8 |
20 |
9 | 49 |
3 | 22 |
6 | 9 |
21 |
10 | 18 |
4 | 6 |
7 | 10 |
22 |
10 | 50 |
4 | 54 |
7 | 11 |
23 |
11 | 26 |
5 | 42 |
8 | 12 |
24 |
12 | 7 |
6 | 30 |
9 | 13 |
25 |
M. | 7 |
7 | 23 |
10 | 14 |
26 |
0 | 50 |
8 | 20 |
11 | 15 |
27 |
1 | 45 |
9 | 18 |
12 | 16 |
28 |
2 | 47 |
10 | 18 |
1 | 17 |
29 |
4 | 0 |
11 | 18 |
2 | 18 |
30 |
Moon |
A. | 16 |
3 | 19 |
31 |
sets |
1 | 15 |
4 | 20 |
secondary |
[244]
AUGUST.
VIII Month.
Thy Praise my Morning Song, my daily Theme,
My Ev'ning Subject, and my Midnight Dream,
When Grief oppresses, and when Pain assails;
When all the Man, and all the Stoic fails;
When fierce Tentation's stormy Billows roll;
When Guilt and Horror overwhelm my Soul;
With outward Ills contending Passions join'd,
To shake frail Virtue, and unhinge the Mind;
When
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 4 |
Lammas Day. |
4 | 57 |
7 | 3 |
♍ | 13 |
♀ rise 1 40 |
2 | 5 |
More temperate |
4 | 58 |
7 | 2 |
27 |
When out of Favour, |
3 | 6 |
Days dec. 46 m. |
4 | 58 |
7 | 2 |
♎ | 11 |
none know |
4 | 7 |
then |
4 | 59 |
7 | 1 |
25 |
thee; when in, |
5 | G |
7 past Trin. |
5 | 0 |
7 | 0 |
♏ | 9 |
thou dost not |
6 | 2 |
clouds, with |
5 | 1 |
6 | 59 |
22 |
△ ♂ ☿ know |
7 | 3 |
rain |
5 | 2 |
6 | 58 |
♐ | 5 |
7 *s rise 10 55 |
8 | 4 |
Day 13 54 long. |
5 | 3 |
6 | 57 |
17 |
thyself. |
9 | 5 |
and |
5 | 4 |
6 | 56 |
29 |
☽ with ♄ |
10 | 6 |
St. Lawrence. |
5 | 5 |
6 | 55 |
♑ | 11 |
A lean Award |
11 | 7 |
thunder; |
5 | 6 |
6 | 54 |
23 |
☿ sets 7 54 |
12 | G |
8 past Trin. |
5 | 8 |
6 | 52 |
♒ | 5 |
♄ sou. 8 30 |
13 | 2 |
sultry weather, |
5 | 9 |
6 | 51 |
17 |
♃ rises 3 32 |
14 | 3 |
clouds, and |
5 | 10 |
6 | 50 |
29 |
♂ rise 10 25 |
15 | 4 |
Assum. V. Mary. |
5 | 11 |
6 | 49 |
♓ | 11 |
7 *s rise 10 25 |
16 | 5 |
rain; |
5 | 13 |
6 | 47 |
23 |
is better than a |
17 | 6 |
Days dec. 1 18 |
5 | 14 |
6 | 46 |
♈ | 5 |
♀ rise 1 37 |
18 | 7 |
then more |
5 | 15 |
6 | 45 |
17 |
fat Judgment. |
19 | G |
9 past Trin. |
5 | 16 |
6 | 44 |
29 |
God, Parents, |
20 | 2 |
Day 13 26 long. |
5 | 17 |
6 | 43 |
♉ | 12 |
and Instructors, |
21 | 3 |
temperate, |
5 | 18 |
6 | 42 |
25 |
☽ with ♂ can |
22 | 4 |
clear |
5 | 20 |
6 | 40 |
♊ | 8 |
☉ in ♍ △ ☉ ♄ |
23 | 5 |
and fair; |
5 | 21 |
6 | 39 |
22 |
never be |
24 | 6 |
St. Barthol. |
5 | 22 |
6 | 38 |
♋ | 6 |
7 *s rise 9 52 |
25 | 7 |
flying |
5 | 24 |
6 | 36 |
21 |
☽ with ♀ requited. |
26 | G |
10 past Trin. |
5 | 25 |
6 | 35 |
♌ | 6 |
☽ w. ♃ |
27 | 2 |
Days dec. 1 42 |
5 | 26 |
6 | 34 |
21 |
♄ sou. 7 36 |
28 | 3 |
clouds and |
5 | 27 |
6 | 33 |
♍ | 6 |
♃ rise 2 54 |
29 | 4 |
perhaps |
5 | 28 |
6 | 32 |
21 |
☽ with ☿ |
30 | 5 |
Day 13 h. long |
5 | 30 |
6 | 30 |
♎ | 6 |
△ ♂ ☿ |
31 | 6 |
rain. |
5 | 31 |
6 | 29 |
21 |
♂ rise 9 54 |
[245]
August hath XXXI Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
First Q. |
5 | 8 aft. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
13 | 9 aft. |
| ♌ |
♑ | ♌ |
♉ | ♊ |
♍ |
|
Last Q. |
21 | 9 aft. |
1 | 9 |
1 | 0 |
8 | 24 |
5 |
S. | 4 |
New ☽ |
28 | 10 mor. |
6 | 14 |
1 | 1 |
11 | 28 |
11 |
N. | 2 |
|
12 | 20 |
0 | 2 |
15 | ♋ 4 |
17 |
5 |
|
|
12 | ♎ | 29 Deg. |
17 | 25 |
0 | 3 |
17 | 9 |
22 |
2 |
☊ |
22 | 29 |
22 | ♍ 0 |
0 | 4 |
20 | 14 |
24 |
S. | 3 |
|
31 | 28 |
27 | 4 |
0 | 5 |
23 | 19 |
25 |
5 |
D. |
☽ set |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
secondary Planets or Satellites round their Primaries,
in such a Manner, as leaves no Room
for any, but such as do not understand them,
to hesitate about it. The Sun's apparent Rising
and Setting is therefore owing to the
Earth's turning round upon its own Axis; and
his apparent Change of Place among the fixed
Stars, to our real Change of Situation round
the Sun. The different Seasons of the Year,
with all their delightful Varieties, are owing
to the most simple Contrivance that can be
imagined, viz. The Inclination of the Earth's
Axis to the Plane of the Ecliptic. Any Person
who has not an Opportunity of seeing an
Orrery, may easily represent this by an Apple
or any other round Body with a Wire thrust
through the Middle of it, and carried round
a Table having a Candle placed on the Middle;
if the lower End of the Wire be made
to touch the Table all the Way round, and to
lean a little, the upper End still pointing towards
the same Side of the Room, by turning
the Skewer round, as it is carried along, it
will be easy to understand how the Earth's
Turning once round upon her own Axis, makes
a Day and a Night; and by carrying the Apple
round the Table, it will be easy to shew
how the Sun (represented by the Candle) must
seem to change Place with regard to the fixed
Stars; and by observing how differently the
Light of the Candle enlightens the different
Parts of the Apple as the Wire points toward |
1 |
8 A. | 25 |
2 A. | 9 |
5 | 21 |
2 |
9 | 3 |
3 | 1 |
6 | 22 |
3 |
9 | 37 |
3 | 53 |
6 | 23 |
4 |
10 | 12 |
4 | 44 |
7 | 24 |
5 |
10 | 56 |
5 | 36 |
8 | 25 |
6 |
11 | 37 |
6 | 28 |
9 | 26 |
7 |
12 | 22 |
7 | 18 |
10 | 27 |
8 |
M. | 22 |
8 | 18 |
11 | 28 |
9 |
1 | 12 |
8 | 57 |
11 | 29 |
10 |
2 | 2 |
9 | 45 |
12 | 30 |
11 |
2 | 52 |
10 | 33 |
1 | 31 |
12 |
Moon |
11 | 18 |
2 | Aug. |
13 |
rises |
12 | 3 |
2 | |
14 |
A. |
M. | 3 |
3 | 3 |
15 |
7 | 25 |
0 | 36 |
3 | 4 |
16 |
7 | 43 |
1 | 20 |
4 | 5 |
17 |
8 | 22 |
2 | 4 |
5 | 6 |
18 |
8 | 51 |
2 | 49 |
5 | 7 |
19 |
9 | 25 |
3 | 33 |
6 | 8 |
20 |
10 | 3 |
4 | 23 |
7 | 9 |
21 |
10 | 47 |
5 | 13 |
8 | 10 |
22 |
11 | 42 |
6 | 10 |
9 | 11 |
23 |
12 | 37 |
7 | 6 |
10 | 12 |
24 |
M. | 37 |
8 | 6 |
11 | 13 |
25 |
1 | 39 |
9 | 6 |
12 | 14 |
26 |
2 | 51 |
10 | 4 |
1 | 15 |
27 |
4 | 5 |
11 | 1 |
2 | 16 |
28 |
Moon |
11 | 58 |
2 | 17 |
29 |
sets. |
A. | 55 |
3 | 18 |
30 |
7 A. | 46 |
1 | 50 |
4 | 19 |
31 |
8 | 23 |
2 | 45 |
5 | 20 |
(to-)ward it |
[246]
SEPTEMBER.
IX Month.
When Nature sinks; when Death's dark Shades arise,
And this World's Glories vanish from these Eyes;
Then may the Thought of Thee be ever near,
To calm the Tumult, and compose the Fear.
In all my Woes thy Favour my Defence;
Safe in thy Mercy, not my Innocence,
And through what future Scenes thy Hand may guide
My wond'ring Soul, and thro' what States untry'd,
What
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 7 |
Dog Days end |
5 | 32 |
6 | 28 |
♏ | 5 |
✱ ♀ ☿ He that |
2 | G |
11 past Trin. |
5 | 33 |
6 | 27 |
18 |
✱ ♂ ♀ builds |
3 | 2 |
Clouds |
5 | 34 |
6 | 26 |
♐ | 1 |
♀ rises 1 51 |
4 | 3 |
and |
5 | 35 |
6 | 25 |
14 |
before he counts |
5 | 4 |
Days dec. 22 |
5 | 36 |
6 | 24 |
27 |
☽ with ♄ the |
6 | 5 |
like for |
5 | 38 |
6 | 22 |
♑ | 9 |
Cost, acts foolishly; |
7 | 6 |
rain; then |
5 | 39 |
6 | 21 |
21 |
7 *s rise 9 0 |
8 | 7 |
Nativ. V. Mary. |
5 | 40 |
6 | 20 |
♒ | 3 |
and he |
9 | G |
12 past Trin |
5 | 41 |
6 | 19 |
15 |
that counts before |
10 | 2 |
wind, |
5 | 43 |
6 | 17 |
27 |
he builds, |
11 | 3 |
Days 12 32 long. |
5 | 44 |
6 | 16 |
♓ | 8 |
finds he did not |
12 | 4 |
Days dec. 2 22 |
5 | 46 |
6 | 14 |
20 |
♄ set 11 16 |
13 | 5 |
fair and |
5 | 47 |
6 | 13 |
♈ | 2 |
7 *s rise 8 40 |
14 | 6 |
Holy Rood. |
5 | 49 |
6 | 11 |
14 |
♃ ri. 2 11 count |
15 | 7 |
pleasant |
5 | 50 |
6 | 10 |
26 |
☌ ♃ ♀ wisely. |
16 | G |
13 past Trin. |
5 | 51 |
6 | 9 |
♉ | 9 |
♂ rise 9 11 |
17 | 2 |
Days 12 16 long. |
5 | 53 |
6 | 7 |
22 |
♀ rise 2 14 |
18 | 3 |
for some |
5 | 54 |
6 | 6 |
♊ | 5 |
☽ with ♂ |
19 | 4 |
Ember Week. |
5 | 56 |
6 | 4 |
18 |
Patience in |
20 | 5 |
days; |
5 | 57 |
6 | 3 |
♋ | 2 |
Market, is |
21 | 6 |
St. Matthew. |
5 | 58 |
6 | 2 |
16 |
worth Pounds |
22 | 7 |
then clouds |
6 | 0 |
6 | 0 |
♌ | 0 |
☉ in ♎ □ ☉ ♄ |
23 | G |
14 past Trin. |
6 | 1 |
5 | 59 |
14 |
☽ w. ♃ & ♀ in a |
24 | 2 |
with wind |
6 | 3 |
5 | 57 |
29 |
△ ☉ Year. |
25 | 3 |
and |
6 | 4 |
5 | 56 |
♍ | 14 |
☽ w. ☿ Danger |
26 | 4 |
rain |
6 | 5 |
5 | 55 |
29 |
7 *s rise 7 52 is |
27 | 5 |
Days decr. 3 h. |
6 | 7 |
5 | 53 |
♎ | 14 |
♄ set 10 21 |
28 | 6 |
towards the end. |
6 | 9 |
5 | 51 |
28 |
♃ rise 1 30 |
29 | 7 |
St. Michael. |
6 | 9 |
5 | 51 |
♏ | 12 |
♂ r. 8 32 Sauce |
30 | G |
Day 13 h. long |
5 | 30 |
6 | 30 |
26 |
for Prayers. |
[247]
September hath XXX Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
First Q. |
4 | 8 mor. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
12 | at noon. |
| ♍ |
♑ | ♌ |
♉ | ♋ |
♍ |
|
Last Q. |
20 | 4 mor. |
1 | 9 |
0 | 6 |
25 | 24 |
24 |
N. | 1 |
New ☽ |
26 | 9 aft. |
6 | 14 |
0 | 7 |
27 | 29 |
20 |
5 |
|
12 | 20 |
0 | 9 |
29 | ♌ 6 |
14 | 3 |
|
|
12 | ♎ | 28 Deg. |
17 | 25 |
0 | 9 |
♊ 0 | 11 |
12 |
S. | 2 |
☊ |
22 | 28 |
22 | ♎ 0 |
0 | 10 |
2 | 17 |
13 | 5 |
|
30 | 28 |
27 | 5 |
0 | 11 |
2 | 23 |
17 | 1 |
D. |
☽ set |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
it, or from it, the Cause of the Difference
of the Seasons, of the Length of the
Days and Nights, of the Sun's shining more
directly or more obliquely upon different Parts
of the Earth, and of the Heat of Summer,
and Cold of Winter, may be made plain to
any Capacity. That the Earth is of a round,
or nearly round Figure, is plain from the Shadow
it casts upon the Face of the Moon in a
partial Eclipse of the Moon, which is always
round, and never of any other Figure. It is
also manifest from what it always observed at
Sea, viz. That a Ship, as it approaches, first
shews its Masts and Sails, and by Degrees its
lower Parts, till it becomes all visible; and,
as it goes off, its Hulk is first lost, and then
its Sails and upper Parts, till it be quite hid
by the Convexity or Roundness of the Surface
of the Ocean.
As the Earth is carried round the Sun once
in a Year, so is the Moon carried round the
Earth once in about twenty-seven Days, accompanying
her in her whole Revolution, at
the above-mentioned Distance of two hundred
and forty thousand Miles, and keeping always
the same Face towards the Earth. That
the Moon goes round the Earth, as her Centre,
is evident to the Eye. For, when she is
between the Sun and the Earth, she is invisible
to us, her dark Side being turned toward
us. When she goes a little Way forward in
her Revolution, so as to come from between |
1 |
9 | 1 |
3 | 36 |
6 | 21 |
2 |
9 | 41 |
4 | 27 |
7 | 22 |
3 |
10 | 23 |
5 | 17 |
8 | 23 |
4 |
11 | 16 |
6 | 6 |
9 | 24 |
5 |
12 | 10 |
7 | 1 |
10 | 25 |
6 |
M. | 10 |
7 | 56 |
10 | 26 |
7 |
0 | 54 |
8 | 41 |
8 | 26 |
8 |
1 | 50 |
9 | 26 |
12 | 28 |
9 |
2 | 48 |
10 | 11 |
1 | 29 |
10 |
3 | 48 |
10 | 57 |
1 | 30 |
11 |
4 | 37 |
11 | 37 |
2 | 31 |
12 |
Moon |
12 | 22 |
3 | Sept. |
13 |
rises. |
M. | 22 |
3 | |
14 |
7 A. | 7 |
0 | 57 |
4 | 3 |
15 |
7 | 39 |
1 | 43 |
4 | 4 |
16 |
8 | 14 |
2 | 30 |
5 | 5 |
17 |
8 | 57 |
3 | 22 |
6 | 6 |
18 |
9 | 43 |
4 | 14 |
7 | 7 |
19 |
10 | 37 |
5 | 8 |
8 | 8 |
20 |
11 | 39 |
6 | 2 |
9 | 9 |
21 |
12 | 41 |
6 | 59 |
9 | 10 |
22 |
M. | 41 |
7 | 55 |
10 | 11 |
23 |
1 | 44 |
8 | 52 |
11 | 12 |
24 |
2 | 53 |
9 | 48 |
12 | 13 |
25 |
Moon |
10 | 43 |
1 | 14 |
26 |
sets |
11 | 37 |
2 | 15 |
27 |
A. |
A. | 31 |
3 | 16 |
28 |
7 | 0 |
1 | 25 |
4 | 17 |
29 |
7 | 39 |
2 | 19 |
5 | 18 |
30 |
8 | 23 |
3 | 13 |
6 | 19 |
us |
[248]
OCTOBER.
X Month.
What distant Seats soe'er I may explore,
When frail Mortality shall be no more;
If aught of meek or contrite in thy Sight
Shall fit me for the Realms of Bliss and Light,
Be this the Bliss of all my future Days,
To view thy Glories, and to sing thy Praise.
When the dread Hour, ordain'd of old, shall come,
Which brings on stubborn Guilt its righteous Doom,
When
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 2 |
Moderate |
6 | 12 |
5 | 48 |
♐ | 10 |
If you have |
2 | 3 |
and pleasant, |
6 | 13 |
5 | 47 |
23 |
♀ rise 3 45 |
3 | 4 |
Days 11 32 long. |
6 | 14 |
5 | 46 |
♑ | 5 |
☽ with ♄ no |
4 | 5 |
but |
6 | 15 |
5 | 45 |
17 |
Honey in your |
5 | 6 |
soon turns |
6 | 16 |
5 | 44 |
29 |
7 *s rise 7 20 |
6 | 7 |
Days dec. 3 26 |
6 | 18 |
5 | 42 |
♒ | 11 |
✱ ☉ ♃ □ ♂ ♀ |
7 | G |
16 past Trin. |
6 | 19 |
5 | 41 |
23 |
□ ♄ ☿ Pot, |
8 | 2 |
to rain, |
6 | 20 |
5 | 40 |
♓ | 5 |
△ ♂ ☿ have |
9 | 3 |
with high |
6 | 21 |
5 | 39 |
17 |
some in your |
10 | 4 |
wind, and |
6 | 22 |
5 | 38 |
29 |
Mouth. |
11 | 5 |
cool, |
6 | 23 |
5 | 37 |
♈ | 11 |
A Pair of |
12 | 6 |
Days dec. 3 40 |
6 | 25 |
5 | 35 |
23 |
♄ sets 9 33 |
13 | 7 |
then more |
6 | 26 |
5 | 34 |
♉ | 6 |
✱ ♃ ☿ good |
14 | G |
17 past Trin. |
6 | 27 |
5 | 33 |
19 |
7 *s rise 6 46 |
15 | 2 |
settled |
6 | 29 |
5 | 31 |
♊ | 2 |
☽ with ♂ Ears |
16 | 3 |
Day 11 h. long. |
6 | 30 |
5 | 30 |
15 |
♃ rises 12 42 |
17 | 4 |
and fair, |
6 | 31 |
5 | 29 |
29 |
Sirius ri. 12 0 |
18 | 5 |
St. Luke. |
6 | 32 |
5 | 28 |
♋ | 13 |
♂ rises 7 20 |
19 | 6 |
warm, |
6 | 34 |
5 | 26 |
27 |
♀ rises 3 23 |
20 | 7 |
Day dec. 4 h. |
6 | 35 |
5 | 25 |
♌ | 11 |
☽ with ♃ will |
21 | G |
18 past Trin. |
6 | 37 |
5 | 23 |
25 |
drain dry an |
22 | 2 |
K Geo. II. cro. |
6 | 38 |
5 | 22 |
♍ | 9 |
☌ ☉ ☿ hundred |
23 | 3 |
and flying |
6 | 39 |
5 | 21 |
24 |
☉ in ♏ ☌ ☽ ♀ |
24 | 4 |
clouds, |
6 | 40 |
5 | 20 |
♎ | 9 |
✱ ♄ ☿ |
25 | 5 |
Crispin. |
6 | 41 |
5 | 19 |
23 |
✱ ☉ ♄ Tongues. |
26 | 6 |
then |
6 | 43 |
5 | 17 |
♏ | 7 |
☽ with ☿ |
27 | 7 |
Days 10 32 long. |
6 | 44 |
5 | 16 |
21 |
♄ set 8 40 |
28 | G |
Simon and Jude. |
6 | 45 |
5 | 15 |
♐ | 4 |
Sirius ri. 11 20 |
29 | 2 |
cold |
6 | 46 |
5 | 14 |
17 |
△ ♂ ♀ |
30 | 3 |
rain, and wind. |
6 | 48 |
5 | 12 |
♑ | 0 |
☌ ☽ ♄ □ ♄ ♀ |
31 | 4 |
rain. |
6 | 49 |
5 | 11 |
13 |
♃ rise 11 55 |
[249]
October hath xxxi Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
First Q. |
3 | 11 aft. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
12 | 4 mor. |
| ♎ |
♑ | ♌ |
♊ | ♌ |
♍ |
|
Last Q. |
19 | 10 mor. |
2 | 9 |
1 | 12 |
3 | 28 |
24 |
N. | 4 |
New ☽ |
26 | 5 mor. |
7 | 14 |
1 | 13 |
3 | ♍ 4 |
♎ 2 | 5 |
|
12 | 19 |
1 | 14 |
4 | 10 |
11 | 0 |
|
|
12 | ♎ | 28 Deg. |
17 | 24 |
1 | 14 |
3 | 16 |
20 |
S. | 4 |
☊ |
22 | 28 |
22 | 29 |
2 | 15 |
2 | 22 |
29 | 4 |
|
31 | 28 |
27 | ♏ 4 |
2 | 15 |
1 | 28 |
♏ 7 |
N. | 2 |
D. |
☽ sets |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
us and the Sun, we see a small Part of her
Body enlightned, and so on still more and more,
till she comes to be in Opposition to the Sun,
and then we see all that Side of her which the
Sun shines upon, when we say she is full;
though the Sun does not, in Reality, enlighten
any more of her Body at Full than at new
Moon; only her enlightened Side is turned towards
us in the one Case, and from us in the
other. This whole Matter may be made very
plain to any Capacity in the same Manner
as is above directed with regard to the Earth's
Revolution round the Sun, by carrying a smaller
Apple or Ball to represent the Moon round
the first, which represents the Earth, and observing
how the Light of the Candle shining
upon the little Ball must appear to a Fly or
other Insect placed upon the large one. Whenever
the Moon happens to come exactly between
the Earth and the Sun, she stops the
Light of the Sun, and then we say, the Sun
is eclipsed; and according as the Moon happens
to cover a Part or the Whole of the Sun's
Face, we call the Eclipse partial or total.
Sometimes a total Eclipse of the Sun happens
when the Moon is at her greatest Distance from
the Earth (for she does not go round the Earth
in an exact Circle, as neither do any of the rest
of the primary or secondary Planets round their
Centers) and then, as all Objects appear smaller
according to their Distance, she does not
cover the whole Face of the Sun, but a part |
1 |
9 | 18 |
4 A. | 10 |
7 | 20 |
2 |
10 | 9 |
5 | 7 |
8 | 21 |
3 |
11 | 2 |
5 | 56 |
8 | 22 |
4 |
11 | 58 |
6 | 44 |
9 | 23 |
5 |
12 | 54 |
7 | 31 |
10 | 24 |
6 |
M. | 54 |
8 | 17 |
11 | 25 |
7 |
1 | 46 |
9 | 1 |
12 | 26 |
8 |
2 | 42 |
9 | 45 |
12 | 27 |
9 |
3 | 42 |
10 | 30 |
1 | 28 |
10 |
4 | 36 |
11 | 14 |
2 | 29 |
11 |
Moon |
11 | 57 |
2 | 30 |
12 |
rises |
12 | 41 |
3 | Oct. |
13 |
6 A. | 24 |
M. | 41 |
3 | |
14 |
7 | 5 |
1 | 25 |
4 | 3 |
15 |
7 | 48 |
2 | 19 |
5 | 4 |
16 |
8 | 37 |
3 | 13 |
6 | 5 |
17 |
9 | 38 |
4 | 11 |
7 | 6 |
18 |
10 | 46 |
5 | 9 |
8 | 7 |
19 |
11 | 55 |
6 | 5 |
9 | 8 |
20 |
Morn. |
7 | 0 |
10 | 9 |
21 |
1 | 0 |
7 | 50 |
10 | 10 |
22 |
2 | 4 |
8 | 40 |
11 | 11 |
23 |
3 | 14 |
9 | 36 |
12 | 12 |
24 |
4 | 27 |
10 | 31 |
1 | 13 |
25 |
Moon |
11 | 24 |
2 | 14 |
26 |
sets |
A. | 17 |
3 | 15 |
27 |
A. |
1 | 10 |
4 | 16 |
28 |
7 | 9 |
2 | 3 |
5 | 17 |
29 |
8 | 0 |
2 | 56 |
5 | 18 |
30 |
8 | 56 |
3 | 48 |
6 | 19 |
31 |
9 | 42 |
4 | 39 |
7 | 20 |
of |
[250]
NOVEMBER.
XI Month.
When Storms of Fire on Sinners shall be pour'd,
And all th' Obdurate in thy Wrath devour'd;
May I then hope to find a lowly Place
To stand the meanest or th' etherial Race;
Swift at thy Word to wing the liquid Sky,
And on thy humblest Messages to fly.
Howe'er thy blissful Sight may raise my Soul,
While vast Eternity's long Ages roll,
Perfection
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 5 |
All Saints. |
6 | 50 |
5 | 10 |
♑ | 25 |
♂ rise 6 13 |
2 | 6 |
Days dec. 4 32 |
6 | 51 |
5 | 9 |
♒ | 7 |
Serving God is |
3 | 7 |
Clouds |
6 | 52 |
5 | 8 |
19 |
Doing Good to |
4 | G |
20 past Trin. |
6 | 53 |
5 | 7 |
♓ | 1 |
Man, but Praying |
5 | 2 |
Powder Plot. |
6 | 54 |
5 | 6 |
13 |
is thought |
6 | 3 |
Day 10 10 long. |
6 | 55 |
5 | 5 |
25 |
♀ rise 4 2 an |
7 | 4 |
and threatens |
6 | 56 |
5 | 4 |
♈ | 7 |
easier Service, |
8 | 5 |
cold |
6 | 58 |
5 | 2 |
19 |
□ ☉ ♃ and |
9 | 6 |
rain or snow. |
6 | 59 |
5 | 1 |
♉ | 2 |
therefore more |
10 | 7 |
K. Geo. II. b.1683 |
7 | 0 |
5 | 0 |
15 |
Sirius ri. 10 27 |
11 | G |
21 past Trin. |
7 | 1 |
4 | 59 |
28 |
☽ with ♂ generally |
12 | 2 |
then |
7 | 3 |
4 | 57 |
♊ | 11 |
✱ ♃ ♀ |
13 | 3 |
pleasant |
7 | 4 |
4 | 56 |
25 |
♄ sets 7 35 chosen. |
14 | 4 |
Days dec. 5 h. |
7 | 5 |
4 | 55 |
♋ | 9 |
♃ ri. 11 4 |
15 | 5 |
and suita- |
7 | 6 |
4 | 54 |
23 |
7 *s sou. 12 4 |
16 | 6 |
to the |
7 | 7 |
4 | 53 |
♌ | 7 |
☍ ☉ ♂ Nothing |
17 | 7 |
season, |
7 | 8 |
4 | 52 |
21 |
☽ w ♃ humbler |
18 | G |
22 past Trin. |
7 | 9 |
4 | 51 |
♍ | 5 |
♂ sou. 11 51 |
19 | 2 |
but follow'd |
7 | 10 |
4 | 50 |
19 |
Sirius rises 9 51 |
20 | 3 |
Day 9 38 long. |
7 | 11 |
4 | 49 |
♎ | 3 |
♀ rise 4 29 |
21 | 4 |
by cold |
7 | 12 |
4 | 48 |
17 |
☉ in ♐ than |
22 | 5 |
cloudy, |
7 | 12 |
4 | 48 |
♏ | 1 |
☌ ☽ ♀ △ ♃ ☿ |
23 | 6 |
Days dec. 5 16 |
7 | 13 |
4 | 47 |
15 |
Ambition, when |
24 | 7 |
weather, |
7 | 14 |
4 | 46 |
29 |
it is about to |
25 | G |
23 past Trin. |
7 | 15 |
4 | 45 |
♐ | 12 |
7 *s sou. 11 26 |
26 | 2 |
with snow |
7 | 16 |
4 | 44 |
25 |
☌ ☽ ☿ ✱ ♄ ♀ |
27 | 3 |
or rain |
7 | 16 |
4 | 44 |
♑ | 8 |
☽ with ♄ |
28 | 4 |
Days dec. 5 24 |
7 | 17 |
4 | 43 |
21 |
♄ sets 6 37 |
29 | 5 |
and wind. |
7 | 18 |
4 | 42 |
♒ | 3 |
♃ rises 9 57 |
30 | 6 |
St. Andrew. |
7 | 18 |
4 | 42 |
15 |
climb. |
[251]
November hath XXX Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
First Q. |
2 | 6 aft. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
10 | 8 aft. |
| ♏ |
♑ | ♌ |
♉ | ♎ |
♏ | |
Last Q. |
17 | 7 aft. |
1 | 9 |
2 | 16 |
0 | 4 |
15 |
N. | 5 |
New ☽ |
24 | 8 aft. |
6 | 14 |
3 | 16 |
28 | 10 |
23 | 3 |
|
12 | 20 |
3 | 17 |
26 | 17 |
♐ 2 |
S. | 3 |
|
|
12 | ♎ | 27 Deg |
17 | 25 |
4 | 17 |
24 | 23 |
10 | 5 |
☊ |
22 | 27 |
22 | ♐ 1 |
4 | 17 |
22 | 0 |
17 | 0 |
|
30 | 26 |
27 | 6 |
5 | 17 |
21 | ♏ 6 |
24 |
N. | 5 |
D. |
☽ sets |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
of his Body is seen round the Moon like a
shining Ring. But, if the Moon happens to
come between the Earth and Sun, when
she is at her least Distance from the Earth, she
appears then so large as to cover the whole
Face of the Sun, and makes, for some Minutes,
a Darkness equal to that of Twilight.
When the Earth comes exactly between the
Sun and the Moon, she darkens a Part of the
Whole of the Moon's Face, and makes an
Eclipse of the Moon. The Earth being a
Body about thirty or forty Times larger than
the Moon, casts a Shadow large enough to
eclipse the Moon, if her Diameter were three
Times greater than it is, whereas the Shadow
of the Moon can never eclipse the whole Face
of the Earth together. If the Moon revolved
round the Earth in the same Plane as the
Earth goes round the Sun, there would be
constantly an Eclipse of the Sun every New,
and of the Moon every full Moon. But to
prevent this Inconvenience, the Author of
Nature has ordered Matters so, that the
Course of the Moon round the Earth is sometimes
above and sometimes below that of the
Earth round the Sun, so that their Shadows
generally miss one another. These Motions
are so exactly regulated, that Astronomers
can foretel Eclipses to Minutes at an hundred
Years Distance, than which there is not a more
remarkable Instance either of human Sagacity,
or of the Truth of that Expression of |
1 |
10 | 45 |
5 | 29 |
8 | 21 |
2 |
11 | 44 |
6 | 15 |
9 | 22 |
3 |
12 | 40 |
7 | 0 |
10 | 23 |
4 |
M. | 40 |
7 | 44 |
10 | 24 |
5 |
1 | 35 |
8 | 27 |
11 | 25 |
6 |
2 | 30 |
9 | 10 |
12 | 26 |
7 |
3 | 21 |
9 | 53 |
12 | 28 |
9 |
Moon |
11 | 25 |
2 | 29 |
10 |
rises |
12 | 14 |
3 | 30 |
11 |
A. |
M. | 14 |
3 | 31 |
12 |
6 | 37 |
1 | 6 |
4 | Nov. |
13 |
7 | 32 |
2 | 4 |
5 | |
14 |
8 | 33 |
3 | 1 |
6 | 3 |
15 |
9 | 39 |
3 | 56 |
6 | 4 |
16 |
10 | 48 |
4 | 51 |
7 | 5 |
17 |
11 | 58 |
5 | 43 |
8 | 6 |
18 |
Morn. |
6 | 35 |
9 | 7 |
19 |
1 | 4 |
7 | 26 |
10 | 8 |
20 |
2 | 6 |
8 | 16 |
11 | 9 |
21 |
3 | 15 |
9 | 8 |
12 | 10 |
22 |
4 | 25 |
10 | 0 |
1 | 11 |
23 |
Moon |
10 | 55 |
1 | 12 |
24 |
sets |
11 | 50 |
2 | 13 |
25 |
A |
A. | 42 |
3 | 14 |
26 |
6 | 34 |
1 | 34 |
4 | 15 |
27 |
7 | 31 |
2 | 27 |
5 | 16 |
28 |
8 | 23 |
3 | 19 |
6 | 17 |
29 |
9 | 25 |
4 | 4 |
7 | 18 |
30 |
10 | 20 |
4 | 49 |
7 | 19 |
Scripture |
[252]
DECEMBER.
XII Month.
Perfection on Perfection tow'ring high,
Glory on Glory rais'd, and Joy on Joy,
Each Pow'r improving in the bright'ning Mind,
To humble Virtues, lofty Knowledge join'd;
Be this my highest Aim, howe'er I soar,
Before thy Footstool prostrate to adore,
My brightest Crown before thy Feet to lay,
My Pride to serve, my Glory to obey.
END
| |
Remark. days, &c. |
☉ ris |
☉ set |
☽ pl. |
Aspects, &c. |
1 | 7 |
Day 9 24 long. |
7 | 19 |
4 | 41 |
♒ | 27 |
The discontented |
2 | G |
Advent Sunday. |
7 | 19 |
4 | 41 |
♓ | 9 |
♂ sou. 10 32 |
3 | 2 |
Cold and |
7 | 20 |
4 | 40 |
21 |
Man finds no |
4 | 3 |
Days dec. 5 30. |
7 | 20 |
4 | 40 |
♈ | 3 |
easy Chair. |
5 | 4 |
raw, then |
7 | 21 |
4 | 39 |
15 |
Sirius rise 8 41 |
6 | 5 |
Days 9 18 long. |
7 | 22 |
4 | 38 |
27 |
☌ ♄ ☿ □ ♃ ♀ |
7 | 6 |
more pleasant, |
7 | 22 |
4 | 38 |
♉ | 10 |
♀ rises 5 0 |
8 | 7 |
Concep. V. M. |
7 | 23 |
4 | 37 |
23 |
☌ ☽ ♂ △ ☉ ♃ |
9 | G |
2d in Advent. |
7 | 23 |
4 | 37 |
♊ | 7 |
7 *s sou. 10 28 |
10 | 2 |
|
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
21 |
Virtue and a |
11 | 3 |
Days 9 12 long. |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
♋ | 5 |
Trade, are |
12 | 4 |
frost and |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
19 |
♃ rise 9 1 |
13 | 5 |
St. Lucy. |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
♌ | 3 |
Sirius rise 8 7 |
14 | 6 |
Days decr. 5 40 |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
17 |
☽ with ♃ a |
15 | 7 |
flying clouds, |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♍ | 2 |
□ ♃ ♂ Child's |
16 | G |
3d in Advent. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
16 |
7 *s sou. 9 56 |
17 | 2 |
then more |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♎ | 0 |
♂ sou. 9 14 |
18 | 3 |
moderate |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
14 |
♀ rises 5 23 |
19 | 4 |
Ember Week. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
28 |
best Portion. |
20 | 5 |
and clear, |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♏ | 12 |
Gifts much |
21 | 6 |
St. Thomas. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
25 |
☉ in ♑ Shor. D |
22 | 7 |
Days 9 10 long. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♐ | 8 |
☌ ☽ ♀ ☌ ♄ ☿ |
23 | G |
4th in Advent. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
21 |
Sirius rises 7 23 |
24 | 2 |
but windy, |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♑ | 4 |
☽ with ♄ & ☿ |
25 | 3 |
CHRIST born. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
17 |
☌ ☉ ☿ expected, |
26 | 4 |
St. Stephen. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
29 |
are paid, |
27 | 5 |
St. John. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♒ | 11 |
♃ rise 7 51 |
28 | 6 |
Innocents. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
23 |
7 *s sou. 9 0 |
29 | 7 |
Days 9 10 long. |
7 | 25 |
4 | 35 |
♓ | 5 |
☌ ☉ ♄ not |
30 | G |
cold and cloudy. |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
17 |
△ ♃ ♀ given. |
31 | 2 |
Silvester. |
7 | 24 |
4 | 36 |
29 |
Sirius rise 6 48 |
[253]
December hath XXXI Days. |
|
D. | H. |
Planets Places. |
First Q. |
2 | 4 aft. |
D. | ☉ |
♄ | ♃ |
♂ | ♀ |
☿ | ☽ sL. |
Full ● |
10 | 8 mor. |
| ♐ |
♑ | ♌ |
♉ | ♏ |
| |
Last Q. |
17 | 5 mor. |
2 | 11 |
5 | 17 |
20 | 12 |
1 |
N. | 4 |
New ☽ |
24 | 10 mor. |
7 | 16 |
6 | 17 |
19 | 18 |
7 |
S. | 1 |
|
12 | 21 |
6 | 17 |
18 | 25 |
11 | 5 |
|
|
12 | ♎ | 25 Deg |
17 | 26 |
7 | 17 |
17 | ♐ 1 |
12 | 2 |
☊ |
22 | 24 |
22 | ♑ 1 |
8 | 16 |
18 | 7 |
8 |
N. | 3 |
|
31 | 23 |
27 | 6 |
8 | 16 |
18 | 13 |
1 | 5 |
D. |
☽ sets |
☽ sou: |
T. | |
Scripture, "That the Works of God are all
made in Number, Weight and Measure."
It is certain, by Observations made with good
Telescopes, that, though the Face of the
Moon is covered with innumerable Inequalities
like the Mountains upon the Earth, there
is no great Collection of Waters upon it, like
our Oceans; nor is there any Reason, from
her Appearance through those Instruments,
to suppose she has any such Appendage belonging
to her as our Atmosphere of Air. If the
Moon is inhabited (as she may for any Thing
we know) those who live on one Side or Hemisphere
never can see our World, and those
who live on the other can never lose Sight of
it, except when the Earth comes between them
and the Sun, as she keeps always one Side
turned towards us. Those who live about the
middle Parts of the Hemisphere that looks towards
the Earth, must see it always directly
over their Heads with much the same Appearances
as the Moon makes to us, sometimes
horned, sometimes half, and sometimes
wholly illuminated, but of a vastly greater
Bulk than the Moon appears to us. It
seems highly probable, that the Attraction of
the Moon acting more strongly upon the Fluid
than the solid Parts of our Terraqueous Globe
is the Cause of our Tides, as they answer so
exactly to her Motions and Distances from us,
and other Circumstances. To enter upon that
Theory, however, would be beside my present
Purpose.
[Remainder in our next.] |
1 |
11 | 20 |
5 | 30 |
8 | 20 |
2 |
12 | 14 |
6 | 10 |
9 | 21 |
3 |
M. | 14 |
6 | 54 |
9 | 22 |
4 |
1 | 7 |
7 | 38 |
10 | 23 |
5 |
2 | 6 |
8 | 21 |
11 | 24 |
6 |
3 | 0 |
9 | 4 |
12 | 25 |
7 |
4 | 0 |
9 | 54 |
12 | 26 |
8 |
5 | 0 |
10 | 43 |
1 | 27 |
9 |
Moon |
11 | 40 |
2 | 28 |
10 |
rises |
12 | 36 |
3 | 29 |
11 |
A. |
M. | 36 |
3 | 30 |
12 |
7 | 17 |
1 | 36 |
4 | Dec. |
13 |
8 | 20 |
2 | 30 |
5 | |
14 |
9 | 30 |
3 | 24 |
6 | 3 |
15 |
10 | 50 |
4 | 18 |
7 | 4 |
16 |
11 | 53 |
5 | 11 |
8 | 5 |
17 |
12 | 55 |
6 | 2 |
9 | 6 |
18 |
M. | 55 |
6 | 53 |
9 | 7 |
19 |
1 | 59 |
7 | 44 |
10 | 8 |
20 |
3 | 8 |
8 | 36 |
11 | 9 |
21 |
4 | 12 |
9 | 28 |
12 | 10 |
22 |
5 | 10 |
10 | 20 |
1 | 11 |
23 |
Moon |
11 | 12 |
2 | 12 |
24 |
sets |
A. | 4 |
3 | 13 |
25 |
A. |
12 | 53 |
3 | 14 |
26 |
6 | 59 |
1 | 42 |
4 | 15 |
27 |
7 | 58 |
2 | 27 |
5 | 16 |
28 |
8 | 53 |
3 | 11 |
6 | 17 |
29 |
9 | 52 |
3 | 55 |
6 | 18 |
30 |
10 | 49 |
4 | 39 |
7 | 19 |
31 |
11 | 45 |
5 | 21 |
8 | 20 |
[254]
ECLIPSES, 1753.
This Year there will be four Eclipses, two of
the Sun, and two of the Moon.
The First Eclipse will be of the Moon, on Tuesday,
the 17th Day of April, about Two a Clock in the
Afternoon, and therefore it cannot be seen here; but in
London the Moon will rise five Digits eclipsed.
The Second will be of the Sun, on Thursday, the 3d
of May, about Two a Clock in the Morning, therefore
invisible.
The Third Eclipse will be of the Moon, on Friday,
the 12th Day of October, in the Morning, when, if the
Air be clear, the Moon will be seen eclipsed almost six
Digits; it begins at 26 min. after Two, and ends at
56 min. past Four, so that the whole Duration is two
Hours and thirty Minutes.
The TYPE.
North. |
East. |
|
West. |
South. |
The Fourth is a Solar Eclipse on Friday, the 26th of
October, about Five a Clock in the Morning, invisible
here.
On Sunday, the 6th Day of May, in the Morning,
the Planet Mercury may be seen to make a black Spot
in
[255]
in the Sun's Body, according to the following Calculation.
|
D. | h. | m. |
|
Middle Time of the true ☌ 1753, May |
5 | 15 | 43 |
P. M |
Equation of Time, add |
4 | |
Apparent Time of the true ☌ |
5 | 15 | 47 |
|
Mean Anomaly of the Sun, |
10 | 6 | 21 |
|
Mean Anomaly of Mercury, |
10 | 19 | 47 |
|
Dist. of the | ☉ from the ⊖ |
Log. 5,004518 | |
|
| ☿ from the ☉ |
4,656557 | |
|
| ☿ from the ⊖ |
4,745839 | |
|
Geocentrick Longitude ☉ and ☿ |
♉ | 15° | 53' |
0" |
Geocentrick Latitude, |
3 | 19 |
Anomaly of Commutation, |
6 | 0 | 0 |
|
Inclination, or Heliocentrick Lat. of ☿ S.A. |
4 | 3 |
Elongation to fix Hours before the true ☌ |
23 | 24 |
Difference of Latitude in fix Hours, |
4 | 18 |
Angle of the visible Way, |
10 | 25 | |
Nearest Approach of their Centers, |
3 | 15 |
Motion from the Middle to the true ☌ |
35 |
Latitude of ☿ at the Middle, |
3 | 4 |
Motion of Half the visible Way, |
15 | 24 |
Motion of Half Duration, |
15 | 9 |
Diff. of Lat. between the Mid. Begin. & End, |
2 | 47 |
Geocentrick Latitude at the Beginning, S. A. |
0 | 17 |
Geocentrick Latitude at the End, S. A. |
5 | 51 |
Time from the true ☌ to the Middle, |
9 | 4 |
Time of Half Duration, |
3 | 53 | |
The Arch of the ☉'s Perimeter at the Begin. |
1 | 2 | |
The Arch of the ☉'s Perimeter at the End, |
21 | 48 | |
Apparent Semidiameter of the Sun, |
15 | 45 |
Apparent Semidiameter of ☿ |
0 | 6 |
Mercury enters the Sun's Disk, May |
5, | 11 | 44 | P.M. |
Middle or nearest Approach of the Centers, |
15 | 37 | |
True Conjunction, |
15 | 46 | |
Mercury emerges out of the Disk, |
19 | 31 | |
Total Duration of this Eclipse, |
7 | 47 | |
The astronomical Time when Mercury goes off the
Sun's Disk, being reduced to common Time, is May the
6th, at 31 min. after Seven in the Morning. The Sun
rises at 1 min. past Five, and if you get up betimes,
and put on your Spectacles, you will see Mercury rise
in
[256]
in the Sun, and will appear like a small black Patch in
a Lady's Face.
The Type of this Eclipse at Sun-rising.
North. |
East. |
|
West. |
South. |
Dr. Halley puts this Conjunction an Hour forwarder than by this
Calculation.
This is to give Notice to all Persons that shall have Occasion
of transporting themselves, Goods, Wares, or Merchandize
from Philadelphia to New-York, or from the latter to
the former, That by Joseph Borden, junior, there is a Stage-boat,
well fitted and kept for that Purpose, Nicholas George, Master,
and, if Wind and Weather permit, will attend at the Crooked
Billet Wharff, in Philadelphia, every Monday and Tuesday in every
Week, and proceed up to Borden-Town (not Burlington) on Wednesday,
and on Thursday Morning a Stage-waggon, with a choice
good Awning, kept by Joseph Richards, will be ready to receive them,
and proceed directly to John Cluck's, opposite the City of Perth-Amboy,
who keeps a House of good Entertainment; and on Friday
a Stage-boat, with a large commodious Cabbin, kept by Daniel
Obryant, will be ready to receive them, and proceed directly to New-York,
and give her Attendance at the Whitehall Slip, near the Half
Moon Battery. If People be ready at the Stage Days and Places,
'tis believed they may pass quicker by Twenty-four Hours than any
other Way as our Land Carriage is ten Miles shorter than by Way
of Burlington, and our Waggon does not fail to go thro' in a Day. We
expect to give better Satisfaction this Year than last, by reason we
are more acquainted with the Nature of the Business, and have more
convenient Boats, Waggons and Stages, and will endeavour to use
People in the best Manner we are capable of; and hope all good People
will give it the Encouragement it deserves, and us, as the Promoters
of such a publick Good. Joseph Borden, junior, Joseph
Richards, and Daniel Obryant.
N. B. Joseph Borden's Shallop, Charles Vandyke, Master, will
also be at Philadelphia every Friday and Saturday in every Week;
enquire for him at the Queen's Head; he proceeds to Borden-Town
(not Burlington) on Sunday, and the Stage-waggon also proceeds to
Amboy every Monday in every Week.
[257]
Mayor's Courts for the City
Are held quarterly at Annapolis, viz. The last tuesday
in January, April, July and October.
How to secure Houses, &c. from Lightning.
It has pleased God in his Goodness to Mankind, at length to
discover to them the Means of securing their Habitations and
other Buildings from Mischief by Thunder and Lightning. The
Method is this: Provide a small Iron Rod (it may be made of
the Rod-iron used by the Nailers) but of such a Length, that one
End being three or four Feet in the moist Ground, the other may
be six or eight Feet above the highest Part of the Building. To
the upper End of the Rod fasten about a Foot of Brass Wire, the
Size of a common Knitting-needle, sharpened to a fine Point; the
Rod may be secured to the House by a few small Staples. If the
House or Barn be long, there may be a Rod and Point at each End,
and a middling Wire along the Ridge from one to the other. A
House thus furnished will not be damaged by Lightning, it being attracted
by the Points, and passing thro the Metal into the Ground
without hurting any Thing. Vessels also, having a sharp pointed Rod
fix'd on the Top of their Masts, with a Wire from the Foot of the
Rod reaching down, round one of the Shrouds, to the Water, will
not be hurt by Lightning.
Quakers General Meetings are kept,
At Philadelphia, the 3d Sunday in March. At Chester-River,
the 2d Sunday in April. At Duck-Creek,
the 3d Sunday in April. At Salem, the 4th
Sunday in April. At West River on Whitsunday. At
Little Egg-Harbour, the 3d Sunday in May. At Flushing,
the last Sunday in May, and last in Nov. At Setacket,
the 1st Sunday in June. At New-town, (Long-Island)
the last Sunday in June. At Newport, the 2d
Friday in June. At Westbury, the last Sunday in August,
and last in February. At Philadelphia, the 3d Sunday
in September. At Nottingham, the last Monday in
September. At Cecil, the 1st Saturday in October.
At Choptank the 2d Saturday in October. At Little-Creek,
the 3d Sunday in October. At Shrewsbury the
4th Sunday in October. At Matinicok the last Sunday
in October.
FAIRS are kept,
At Noxonton April 29, and October 21. Cohansie May 5, and
October 27. Wilmington May 9, and November 4. Salem May
12, and October 31. Newcastle May 14, and Nov. 14. Chester May
16, and Oct. 16. Bristol May 19, and Nov. 9. Burlington May 21,
and Nov. 12. Philadelphia May 27, and November 27. Lancaster
June 12, and Nov. 12. Marcus-Hook Oct. 10. Annapolis May 12,
and Oct. 10. Charlestown May 3, and Oct. 29.
[258]
Supreme Courts in Pennsylvania, are held,
At Philadelphia, the tenth Day of April, and the
twenty-fourth Day of September.
Courts of Quarter Sessions, are held,
At Philadelphia, the 1st Monday in March, June,
September and December. At Newtown, for Bucks
County, on the 11th Day following (inclusive) in every
of the Months aforesaid. At Chester, the last Tuesday
in May, August, November and February. At Lancaster,
the 1st Tuesday in each. At York, the last Tuesday in
April, July, October and January. At Cumberland, the
Tuesdays preceding York Courts. At Reading, for Berks
County, the Tuesd. next after Lancaster Co. At Easton,
for Northampton County, the Tuesd. next aft. Bucks Co.
Courts of Common Pleas, are held,
At Philadelphia, the 1st Wednesday after the Quarter-Sessions
in March, June, Sept. and Decem. At Newtown,
the 9th Day following (inclusive) in every of the
Months aforesaid. At Chester, the last Tuesday in May
August, Novem. and Febr. At Lancaster, the 1st Tuesd.
in the Months aforesaid. At Sussex, the 1st, at Kent, the
2d, and at Newcastle, the 3d Tuesday in the same Months.
Mayor's Courts in Philadelphia, are held,
The first Tuesday in January, April, July, and the
last Tuesday in October.
Supreme Courts in New-Jersey, are held,
At Amboy, the 3d tuesday in March, and the 2d tuesday
in August. At Burlington, the 2d tuesday
in May, and the 1st tuesday in November.
Courts for Trial of Causes brought to issue in
the Supreme Court, are held,
For Salem and Cape May Counties the 3d, for Gloucester
the 4th tuesday in April. For Hunterdon, the
1st tuesday in May. For Somerset the 2d, For Bergen
the 4th tuesday in October. For Essex, the next tuesd.
following. For Monmouth, the next tuesday after that.
General Sessions and County Courts, are held,
In Bergen County, the 1st tuesday in January and
October, and the 2d tuesday in June. In Essex the
2d tuesday in January and May, the 3d tuesday in
June, and 4th in September. In Middlesex the 3d tuesdays
in January, April and July, and the 2d tuesday
in October. In Somerset, the first tuesdays in January,
[259]
April and October, and the 2d tuesdays in June. In
Monmouth, the 4th tuesdays in January, April and July,
and 3d in October. In Hunterdon, the first tuesdays in
February and August, the 3d in May, and 4th in October.
In Burlington, the 1st tuesdays in May and November,
and the 2d in February and August. In Gloucester,
the 2d tuesday in June, 3d in September, and 4th
in December and March. In Salem, the 1st tuesday in
June, 3d in February and August, and 4th in November.
In Cape-May, the 1st tuesday in February and August,
the 3d in May, and the 4th tuesday in October. For
the Borough-town of Trenton, the 1st tuesday in March,
1st in June, 1st in September, and the 1st in December.
Supreme Courts in New-York, are held,
At New-York, the 3d tuesday in April, last in July,
and 3d in October and January. At Richmond, the
2d tuesday in April. At Orange, 1st tuesday in June. At
Dutchess, the 2d tuesday in June. At Ulster, the thursday
following. At Albany, the 4th tuesday in June. At Queen's
County the 1st, at Suffolk the 2d, at King's County the
3d, and at West Chester the 4th tuesday in September.
Courts of Sessions and Common Pleas,
At New-York, the 1st tuesday in May, August, November
and February. At Albany the 1st tuesday
in June and October, and 3d tuesday in January. At
West Chester, the 4th tuesday in May and October. In
Ulster, the 1st tuesdays in May, and 3d in Sept. In Richmond,
the 3d tuesday in March, and 4th in September.
In King's, the 3d tuesday in April and October. In
Queen's, the 3d tuesday in May and September. In Suffolk,
the last tuesday in March, and first in October. In
Orange, the last tuesday in April and October. In
Dutchess County, the 3d tuesday in May and October.
Provincial Courts in Maryland,
Two in a Year held at Annapolis, viz. The 2d tuesday
in April and September.
County Courts. At Talbot, Baltimore, Worcester, and
St. Mary's, the 1st tuesday in March, June, August and
November. At Dorchester, Cæcil, Ann-Arundel, and
Charles Counties, the 2d tuesday in the same Months;
at Kent, Calvert, Frederick, and Somerset, the 3d tuesday
in the same Months; at Queen Anne's and Prince
George's the 4th tuesday in the same Months.
[260]
ROADS Northeastward.
From Philadelphia to Bristol 20, to Trenton 10, to
Prince-Town 12, to Kingston 3, to Brunswick 12,
to Amboy 12, to the Narrows 18, to Flat-Bush 5, to
New-York 5, to Kingsbridge 18, to East-Chester 6, to
Newrochell 4, to Rye 4, to Horseneck 7, to Stanford 7,
to Norwalk 10, to Fairfield 12, to Stratford 8, to Milford
4, to Newhaven 10, to Branford 10, to Gilford 12,
to Killingsworth 10, to Seabrook 10, to New-London 18,
to Stonington 15, to Pemberton 10, to Darby 3, to Frenchtown
24, to Providence 20, to Woodcock's 15, to Billend's
10, to White's 7, to Dedham 6, to Boston 10, to Lyn 9, to
Salem 8, to Ipswich 14, to Newberry 11, to Hampton 9, to
Portsmouth 13, to York 9, to Wells 14, to Kennebunk 6, to
Biddeford 14, to Scarborough 7, to Falmouth 13, to Yarmouth
10, to Brunswick 15, to Richmond 16, to Taconick
Falls 33, to Norridgewock 31. In all 600 Miles.
ROADS Southwestward.
From Philadelphia to Darby 7, to Chester 9, to Brandewyne
14, to Newcastle 6, to Elk River 17, to N.
East 7, to Sasquehanna 9, to Gunpowder Ferry 25, to Petapsco
Ferry 20, to Annapolis 30, to Queen Ann's Ferry
13, to Upper Marlborough 9, to Port Tobacco 30, to Hoe's
Ferry 10, to Southern's Ferry 30, to Arnold's Ferry 36, to
Clayborn's Ferry 22, to Freneaux 12, to Williamsburg 16,
to Hog-Island 7, to Isle of Wight Court-House 18, to
Nansemond Court-House 20, to Bennet's Creek-Bridge 30,
to Edenton 30, over the Sound to Bell's Ferry 8, to
Bath-Town, on Pamlico-River 45, to Grave's Ferry, on
Neu's River 32, to Whitlock River 20, to New-River
Ferry 30, to Newtown, on Cape-Fear River, 45, to
Lockwood's Folly 15, to Shallot River 8, to the Eastern
End of Long-Bay 22, to the Western End of Long-Bay
25, to George-Town, Wynyaw, 30, to Santee Ferry 12,
to Jonah Collins's 18, to Hobcaw Ferry, against Charles
Town, 30. In all 767 Miles.
Bibles, Common-Prayers, Testaments, Spelling-books,
Psalters, Primmers, Copy-books for Children, and
all Sorts of Stationary, to be sold by David Hall, at
the New-Printing-Office, in Market-street, Philadelphia.
[261]
TO JOSEPH HUEY
Philadelphia, June 6, 1753.
Sir,
I received your kind Letter of the 2d inst., 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 any
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 shew 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, tho' 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 [(as you suppose) that I shall ever][44]
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,
compar'd with those who think they deserve Heaven for the
little good they do on Earth. Even the mix'd imperfect Pleasures
we enjoy in this World, are rather from God's Goodness
than our Merit; how much more such Happiness of Heaven.[262]
For my own 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 preserv'd and bless'd 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.
The Faith you mention has doubtless its use in the World.
I do not desire to see it diminished, nor would I endeavour to
lessen it in any Man. But I wish it were more productive of
good Works, than I have generally seen it: I mean real good
Works, Works of Kindness, Charity, Mercy, and Publick
Spirit; not Holiday-keeping, Sermon-Reading or Hearing; performing
Church Ceremonies, or making long Prayers, filled
with Flatteries and Compliments, despis'd even by wise Men,
and much less capable of pleasing the Deity. The worship of
God is a Duty; the hearing and reading of Sermons may be
useful; but, if Men rest in Hearing and Praying, as too many do,
it is as if a Tree should Value itself on being water'd and putting
forth Leaves, tho' it never produc'd any Fruit.
Your great Master tho't much less of these outward Appearances
and Professions than many of his modern Disciples. He
prefer'd the Doers of the Word, to the meer Hearers; the Son
that seemingly refus'd to obey his Father, and yet perform'd
his Commands; to him that profess'd his Readiness, but neglected
the Work; the heretical but charitable Samaritan, to the
uncharitable tho' orthodox Priest and sanctified Levite; & those
who gave Food to the hungry, Drink to the Thirsty, Raiment
to the Naked, Entertainment to the Stranger, and Relief to the
Sick, tho' they never heard of his Name, he declares shall in the
last Day be accepted, when those who cry Lord! Lord! who
value themselves on their Faith, tho' great enough to perform
Miracles, but have neglected good Works, shall be rejected.
He profess'd, that he came not to call the Righteous but Sinners
to repentance; which imply'd his modest Opinion, that there
were some in his Time so good, that they need not hear even
him for Improvement; but now-a-days we have scarce a little[263]
Parson, that does not think it the Duty of every Man within his
Reach to sit under his petty Ministrations; and that whoever
omits them [offends God. I wish to such more humility, and
to you health and happiness, being your friend and servant,]
B. Franklin.
THREE LETTERS TO GOVERNOR SHIRLEY[45]
Letter I
Concerning the Voice of the People in Choosing the Rulers
by Whom Taxes are Imposed
Tuesday Morning [December 17, 1754].
Sir,
I return you the loose sheets of the plan, with thanks to your
Excellency for communicating them.
I apprehend, that excluding the people of the colonies from
all share in the choice of the grand council will give extreme
dissatisfaction, as well as the taxing them by act of Parliament,
where they have no representative. It is very possible, that this
general government might be as well and faithfully administered
without the people, as with them; but where heavy burthens
have been laid on them, it has been found useful to make it,
as much as possible, their own act; for they bear better when
they have, or think they have some share in the direction; and
when any public measures are generally grievous, or even distasteful
to the people, the wheels of government move more
heavily.
Letter II
On the Imposition of Direct Taxes upon the Colonies without
Their Consent
Wednesday Morning [December 18, 1754].
Sir,
I mentioned it yesterday to your Excellency as my opinion,
that excluding the people of the colonies from all share in the
choice of the grand council, would probably give extreme dissatisfaction,[264]
as well as the taxing them by act of Parliament, where
they have no representative. In matters of general concern to
the people, and especially where burthens are to be laid upon
them, it is of use to consider, as well what they will be apt to
think and say, as what they ought to think; I shall therefore,
as your Excellency requires it of me, briefly mention what of
either kind occurs to me on this occasion.
First they will say, and perhaps with justice, that the body
of the people in the colonies are as loyal, and as firmly attached
to the present constitution, and reigning family, as any subjects
in the king's dominions.
That there is no reason to doubt the readiness and willingness
of the representatives they may choose, to grant from time to
time such supplies for the defence of the country, as shall be
judged necessary, so far as their abilities will allow.
That the people in the colonies, who are to feel the immediate
mischiefs of invasion and conquest by an enemy in the loss of
their estates, lives and liberties, are likely to be better judges of
the quantity of forces necessary to be raised and maintained,
forts to be built and supported, and of their own abilities to
bear the expence, than the parliament of England at so great a
distance.
That governors often come to the colonies merely to make
fortunes, with which they intend to return to Britain; are not
always men of the best abilities or integrity; have many of them
no estates here, nor any natural connexions with us, that should
make them heartily concerned for our welfare; and might possibly
be fond of raising and keeping up more forces than necessary,
from the profits accruing to themselves, and to make
provision for their friends and dependants.
That the counsellors in most of the colonies being appointed
by the crown, on the recommendation of governors, are often
of small estates, frequently dependant on the governors for
offices, and therefore too much under influence.
That there is therefore great reason to be jealous of a power
in such governors and councils, to raise such sums as they shall
judge necessary, by draft on the lords of the treasury, to be[265]
afterwards laid on the colonies by act of parliament, and paid
by the people here; since they might abuse it by projecting useless
expeditions, harassing the people, and taking them from
their labour to execute such projects, merely to create offices
and employments, and gratify their dependants, and divide
profits.
That the parliament of England is at a great distance, subject
to be misinformed and misled by such Governors and Councils,
whose united interests might probably secure them against the
effect of any complaint from hence.
That it is supposed an undoubted right of Englishmen, not
to be taxed but by their own consent given through their representatives.
That the colonies have no representatives in parliament.
That to propose taxing them by parliament, and refuse them
the liberty of choosing a representative council, to meet in the
colonies, and consider and judge of the necessity of any general
tax, and the quantum, shews suspicion of their loyalty to the
crown, or of their regard for their country, or of their common
sense and understanding, which they have not deserved.
That compelling the colonies to pay money without their
consent, would be rather like raising contributions in an enemy's
country, than taxing of Englishmen for their own public benefit.
That it would be treating them as a conquered people, and
not as true British subjects.
That a tax laid by the representatives of the colonies might
easily be lessened as the occasions should lessen, but being once
laid by parliament under the influence of the representations
made by Governors, would probably be kept up and continued
for the benefit of Governors, to the grievous burthen and discouragement
of the colonies, and prevention of their growth
and increase.
That a power in Governors to march the inhabitants from
one end of the British and French colonies to the other, being
a country of at least 1500 square miles, without the approbation
or the consent of their representatives first obtained, such expeditions
might be grievous and ruinous to the people, and[266]
would put them on footing with the subjects of France in
Canada, that now groan under such oppression from their
Governor, who for two years past has harassed them with long
and destructive marches to Ohio.
That if the colonies in a body may be well governed by governors
and councils appointed by the crown, without representatives,
particular colonies may as well or better be so governed;
a tax may be laid upon them all by act of parliament for
support of government, and their assemblies may be dismissed
as an useless part of the constitution.
That the powers proposed by the Albany Plan of Union, to
be vested in a grand council representative of the people, even
with regard to military matters, are not so great as those the
colonies of Rhode Island and Connecticut are entrusted with
by their charters, and have never abused; for by this plan, the
president-general is appointed by the crown, and controls all
by his negative; but in those governments, the people choose
the Governor, and yet allow him no negative.
That the British colonies bordering on the French are properly
frontiers of the British empire; and the frontiers of an
empire are properly defended at the joint expence of the body
of the people in such empire: It would now be thought hard
by act of parliament to oblige the Cinque Ports or seacoasts of
Britain to maintain the whole navy, because they are more immediately
defended by it, not allowing them at the same time
a vote in choosing members of the parliament; and if the frontiers
in America bear the expence of their own defence, it seems
hard to allow them no share in voting the money, judging of
the necessity and sum, or advising the measures.
That besides the taxes necessary for the defence of the frontiers,
the colonies pay yearly great sums to the mother-country
unnoticed: For taxes paid in Britain by the land-holder or artificer,
must enter into and increase the price of the produce of
land and of manufactures made of it; and great part of this is
paid by consumers in the colonies, who thereby pay a considerable
part of the British taxes.
We are restrained in our trade with foreign nations, and[267]
where we could be supplied with any manufacture cheaper from
them, but must buy the same dearer from Britain; the difference
of price is a clear tax to Britain.
We are obliged to carry a great part of our produce directly
to Britain; and where the duties laid upon it lessen its price to
the planter, or it sells for less than it would in foreign markets;
the difference is a tax paid to Britain.
Some manufactures we could make, but are forbidden, and
must take them of British merchants; the whole price is a tax
paid to Britain.
By our greatly increasing the demand and consumption of
British manufactures, their price is considerably raised of late
years; the advantage is clear profit to Britain, and enables its
people better to pay great taxes; and much of it being paid by
us, is clear tax to Britain.
In short, as we are not suffered to regulate our trade, and
restrain the importation and consumption of British superfluities
(as Britain can the consumption of foreign superfluities) our
whole wealth centers finally amongst the merchants and inhabitants
of Britain, and if we make them richer, and enable
them better to pay their taxes, it is nearly the same as being
taxed ourselves, and equally beneficial to the crown.
These kind of secondary taxes, however, we do not complain
of, though we have no share in the laying, or disposing of them;
but to pay immediate heavy taxes, in the laying, appropriation,
and disposition of which we have no part, and which perhaps
we may know to be as unnecessary, as grievous, must seem hard
measure to Englishmen, who cannot conceive, that by hazarding
their lives and fortunes, in subduing and settling new countries,
extending the dominion, and increasing the commerce of the
mother nation, they have forfeited the native rights of Britons,
which they think ought rather to be given to them, as due to
such merit, if they had been before in a state of slavery.
These, and such kind of things as these, I apprehend, will be
thought and said by the people, if the proposed alteration of the
Albany plan should take place. Then the administration of the
board of governors and councils so appointed, not having any[268]
representative body of the people to approve and unite in its
measures, and conciliate the minds of the people to them, will
probably become suspected and odious; dangerous animosities
and feuds will arise between the governors and governed; and
every thing go into confusion.
Perhaps I am too apprehensive in this matter; but having
freely given my opinion and reasons, your Excellency can judge
better than I whether there be any weight in them, and the
shortness of the time allowed me, will, I hope, in some degree
excuse the imperfections of this scrawl.
With the greatest respect, and fidelity, I have the honour to
be,
Your Excellency's most obedient, and most humble servant,
B. Franklin.
Letter III
On the Subject of Uniting the Colonies More Intimately with
Great Britain, by Allowing Them Representatives in Parliament
Boston, Dec. 22, 1754.
Sir,
Since the conversation your Excellency was pleased to honour
me with, on the subject of uniting the colonies more intimately
with Great Britain, by allowing them representatives in parliament,
I have something further considered that matter, and am
of opinion, that such a union would be very acceptable to the
colonies, provided they had a reasonable number of representatives
allowed them; and that all the old acts of Parliament restraining
the trade or cramping the manufactures of the colonies
be at the same time repealed, and the British subjects on this side
the water put, in those respects, on the same footing with those
in Great Britain, till the new Parliament, representing the whole,
shall think it for the interest of the whole to reënact some or
all of them. It is not that I imagine so many representatives
will be allowed the colonies, as to have any great weight by
their numbers; but I think there might be sufficient to occasion
those laws to be better and more impartially considered, and
perhaps to overcome the interest of a petty corporation, or of[269]
any particular set of artificers or traders in England, who heretofore
seem, in some instances, to have been more regarded than
all the colonies, or than was consistent with the general interest,
or best national good. I think too, that the government of the
colonies by a parliament, in which they are fairly represented,
would be vastly more agreeable to the people, than the method
lately attempted to be introduced by royal instructions, as well
as more agreeable to the nature of an English constitution, and
to English liberty; and that such laws as now seem to bear hard
on the colonies, would (when judged by such a Parliament for
the best interest of the whole) be more cheerfully submitted to,
and more easily executed.
I should hope too, that by such a union, the people of Great
Britain, and the people of the colonies, would learn to consider
themselves, as not belonging to a different community with
different interests, but to one community with one interest;
which I imagine would contribute to strengthen the whole, and
greatly lessen the danger of future separations.
It is, I suppose, agreed to be the general interest of any state,
that its people be numerous and rich; men enough to fight in
its defence, and enough to pay sufficient taxes to defray the
charge; for these circumstances tend to the security of the state,
and its protection from foreign power: But it seems not of so
much importance, whether the fighting be done by John or
Thomas, or the tax paid by William or Charles. The iron manufacture
employs and enriches British subjects, but is it of any
importance to the state, whether the manufacturers live at Birmingham,
or Sheffield, or both, since they are still within its
bounds, and their wealth and persons still at its command?
Could the Goodwin Sands be laid dry by banks, and land equal
to a large country thereby gained to England, and presently
filled with English inhabitants, would it be right to deprive such
inhabitants of the common privileges enjoyed by other Englishmen,
the right of vending their produce in the same ports, or of
making their own shoes, because a merchant or a shoemaker,
living on the old land, might fancy it more for his advantage to
trade or make shoes for them? Would this be right, even if the[270]
land were gained at the expence of the state? And would it
not seem less right, if the charge and labour of gaining the additional
territory to Britain had been borne by the settlers themselves?
And would not the hardship appear yet greater, if the
people of the new country should be allowed no representatives
in the parliament enacting such impositions?
Now I look on the colonies as so many counties gained to
Great Britain, and more advantageous to it than if they had
been gained out of the seas around its coasts, and joined to its
land: For being in different climates, they afford greater variety
of produce, and being separated by the ocean, they increase
much more its shipping and seamen; and since they are all included
in the British empire, which has only extended itself by
their means; and the strength and wealth of the parts are the
strength and wealth of the whole; what imports it to the general
state, whether a merchant, a smith, or a hatter, grow rich in
Old or New England? And if, through increase of people, two
smiths are wanted for one employed before, why may not the
new smith be allowed to live and thrive in the new country, as
well as the old one in the old? In fine, why should the countenance
of a state be partially afforded to its people, unless it be
most in favour of those who have most merit? And if there be
any difference, those who have most contributed to enlarge
Britain's empire and commerce, increase her strength, her
wealth, and the numbers of her people, at the risk of their own
lives and private fortunes in new and strange countries, methinks
ought rather to expect some preference. With the greatest
respect and esteem, I have the honour to be
Your Excellency's most obedient and most humble servant,
B. Franklin.
TO MISS CATHERINE RAY[46] [AT BLOCK ISLAND]
Philadelphia, March 4, 1755.
Dear Katy:—
Your kind letter of January 20th is but just come to hand,
and I take this first opportunity of acknowledging the favour.
It gives me great pleasure to hear, that you got home safe and[271]
well that day. I thought too much was hazarded, when I saw
you put off to sea in that very little skiff, tossed by every wave.
But the call was strong and just, a sick parent. I stood on the
shore, and looked after you, till I could no longer distinguish
you, even with my glass; then returned to your sister's, praying
for your safe passage. Towards evening all agreed that you
must certainly be arrived before that time, the weather having
been so favourable; which made me more easy and cheerful,
for I had been truly concerned for you.
I left New England slowly, and with great reluctance.[47] Short
day's journeys, and loitering visits on the road, for three or four
weeks, manifested my unwillingness to quit a country, in which
I drew my first breath, spent my earliest and most pleasant days,
and had now received so many fresh marks of the people's
goodness and benevolence, in the kind and affectionate treatment
I had everywhere met with. I almost forgot I had a home, till
I was more than halfway towards it; till I had, one by one, parted
with all my New England friends, and was got into the western
borders of Connecticut, among mere strangers. Then, like an
old man, who, having buried all he loved in this world, begins
to think of heaven, I began to think of and wish for home; and,
as I drew nearer, I found the attraction stronger and stronger.
My diligence and speed increased with my impatience. I drove
on violently, and made such long stretches, that a very few days
brought me to my own house, and to the arms of my good old
wife and children, where I remain, thanks to God, at present
well and happy.
Persons subject to the hyp complain of the northeast wind,
as increasing their malady. But since you promised to send me
kisses in that wind, and I find you as good as your word, it is
to me the gayest wind that blows, and gives me the best spirits.
I write this during a northeast storm of snow, the greatest we
have had this winter. Your favours come mixed with the snowy
fleeces, which are pure as your virgin innocence, white as your
lovely bosom, and—as cold. But let it warm towards some
worthy young man, and may Heaven bless you both with every
kind of happiness.[272]
I desired Miss Anna Ward[48] to send you over a little book I
left with her, for your amusement in that lonely island. My
respects to your good father, and mother, and sister. Let me
often hear of your welfare, since it is not likely I shall ever
again have the pleasure of seeing you. Accept mine, and my
wife's sincere thanks for the many civilities I receive from you
and your relations; and do me the justice to believe me, dear
girl, your affectionate, faithful friend, and humble servant,
B. Franklin.
P.S. My respectful compliments to your good brother Ward,
and sister; and to the agreeable family of the Wards at Newport,
when you see them. Adieu.
TO PETER COLLINSON
Philadelphia, Aug. 25, 1755.
Dear Sir,—
As you have my former papers on Whirlwinds, &c., I now
send you an account of one which I had lately an opportunity
of seeing and examining myself.
Being in Maryland, riding with Colonel Tasker, and some
other gentlemen to his country-seat, where I and my son were
entertained by that amiable and worthy man with great hospitality
and kindness, we saw in the vale below us, a small
whirlwind beginning in the road, and shewing itself by the dust
it raised and contained. It appeared in the form of a sugar-loaf,
spinning on its point, moving up the hill towards us, and enlarging
as it came forward. When it passed by us, its smaller
part near the ground, appeared no bigger than a common barrel,
but widening upwards, it seemed, at 40 or 50 feet high, to be 20
or 30 feet in diameter. The rest of the company stood looking
after it, but my curiosity being stronger, I followed it, riding
close by its side, and observed its licking up, in its progress, all
the dust that was under its smaller part. As it is a common
opinion that a shot, fired through a water-spout, will break it,
I tried to break this little whirlwind, by striking my whip frequently
through it, but without any effect. Soon after, it quitted[273]
the road and took into the woods, growing every moment larger
and stronger, raising, instead of dust, the old dry leaves with
which the ground was thick covered, and making a great noise
with them and the branches of the trees, bending some tall
trees round in a circle swiftly and very surprizingly, though the
progressive motion of the whirl was not so swift but that a man
on foot might have kept pace with it; but the circular motion
was amazingly rapid. By the leaves it was now filled with, I
could plainly perceive that the current of air they were driven
by, moved upwards in a spiral line; and when I saw the trunks
and bodies of large trees invelop'd in the passing whirl, which
continued intire after it had left them I no longer wondered that
my whip had no effect on it in its smaller state. I accompanied it
about three quarters of a mile, till some limbs of dead trees,
broken off by the whirl, flying about and falling near me, made
me more apprehensive of danger; and then I stopped, looking at
the top of it as it went on, which was visible, by means of the
leaves contained in it, for a very great height above the trees.
Many of the leaves, as they got loose from the upper and widest
part, were scattered in the wind; but so great was their height in
the air, that they appeared no bigger than flies. My son, who
was by this time come up with me, followed the whirlwind till
it left the woods, and crossed an old tobacco-field, where, finding
neither dust nor leaves to take up, it gradually became invisible
below as it went away over that field. The course of the general
wind then blowing was along with us as we travelled, and the
progressive motion of the whirlwind was in a direction nearly
opposite, though it did not keep a strait line, nor was its progressive
motion uniform, it making little sallies on either hand as it
went, proceeding sometimes faster and sometimes slower, and
seeming sometimes for a few seconds almost stationary, then
starting forward pretty fast again. When we rejoined the company,
they were admiring the vast height of the leaves now
brought by the common wind, over our heads. These leaves
accompanied us as we travelled, some falling now and then
round about us, and some not reaching the ground till we had
gone near three miles from the place where we first saw the[274]
whirlwind begin. Upon my asking Colonel Tasker if such
whirlwinds were common in Maryland, he answered pleasantly,
"No, not at all common; but we got this on purpose to treat Mr.
Franklin." And a very high treat it was, to
Dear Sir,
Your affectionate friend and humble servant,
B. F[ranklin].
TO MISS CATHERINE RAY
Philadelphia, Sept. 11, 1755.
Begone, business, for an hour, at least, and let me chat a
little with my Katy.
I have now before me, my dear girl, three of your favours,
viz. of March the 3d, March the 30th, and May the 1st. The
first I received just before I set out on a long journey, and the
others while I was on that journey, which held me near six
weeks. Since my return, I have been in such a perpetual hurry
of public affairs of various kinds, as renders it impracticable
for me to keep up my private correspondences, even those that
afforded me the greatest pleasure.
You ask in your last, how I do, and what I am doing, and
whether everybody loves me yet, and why I make them do so.
In regard to the first, I can say, thanks to God, that I do not
remember I was ever better. I still relish all the pleasures of life,
that a temperate man can in reason desire, and through favour
I have them all in my power. This happy situation shall continue
as long as God pleases, who knows what is best for his
creatures, and I hope will enable me to bear with patience and
dutiful submission any change he may think fit to make that is
less agreeable. As to the second question, I must confess (but
don't you be jealous), that many more people love me now, than
ever did before; for since I saw you I have been enabled to do
some general services to the country, and to the army, for
which both have thanked and praised me, and say they love me.
They say so, as you used to do; and if I were to ask any favours
of them, they would, perhaps, as readily refuse me; so that I[275]
find little real advantage in being beloved, but it pleases my
humour.
Now it is near four months since I have been favoured with a
single line from you; but I will not be angry with you, because
it is my fault. I ran in debt to you three or four letters; and as I
did not pay, you would not trust me any more, and you had
some reason. But, believe me, I am honest; and, tho' I should
never make equal returns, you shall see I will keep fair accounts.
Equal returns I can never make, tho' I should write to you by
every post; for the pleasure I receive from one of yours is more
than you can have from two of mine. The small news, the
domestic occurrences among our friends, the natural pictures
you draw of persons, the sensible observations and reflections
you make, and the easy, chatty manner in which you express
every thing, all contribute to heighten the pleasure; and the
more as they remind me of those hours and miles, that we talked
away so agreeably, even in a winter journey, a wrong road, and
a soaking shower.
I long to hear whether you have continued ever since in that
monastery [Block Island]; or have broke into the world again,
doing pretty mischief; how the lady Wards do, and how many
of them are married, or about it; what is become of Mr. B— and
Mr. L—, and what the state of your heart is at this instant? But
that, perhaps, I ought not to know; and, therefore, I will not
conjure, as you sometimes say I do. If I could conjure, it should
be to know what was that oddest question about me that ever was
thought of, which you tell me a lady had just sent to ask you.
I commend your prudent resolutions, in the article of granting
favours to lovers. But, if I were courting you, I could not
hardly approve such conduct. I should even be malicious enough
to say you were too knowing, and tell you the old story of the
Girl and the Miller. I enclose you the songs you write for, and
with them your Spanish letter with a translation. I honour that
honest Spaniard for loving you. It showed the goodness of his
taste and judgement. But you must forget him, and bless some
worthy young Englishman.
You have spun a long thread, five thousand and twenty-two[276]
yards. It will reach almost from Rhode Island hither. I wish I
had hold of one end of it, to pull you to me. But you would
break it rather than come. The cords of love and friendship are
longer and stronger, and in times past have drawn me farther;
even back from England to Philadelphia. I guess that some of
the same kind will one day draw you out of that Island.
I was extremely pleased with the turf you sent me. The Irish
people, who have seen it, say it is the right sort; but I cannot
learn that we have any thing like it here. The cheeses, particularly
one of them, were excellent. All our friends have tasted it,
and all agree that it exceeds any English cheese they ever tasted.
Mrs. Franklin was very proud, that a young lady should have so
much regard for her old husband, as to send him such a present.
We talk of you every time it comes to table. She is sure you
are a sensible girl, and a notable housewife, and talks of bequeathing
me to you as a legacy; but I ought to wish you a
better, and hope she will live these hundred years; for we are
grown old together, and if she has any faults, I am so used to
'em that I don't perceive 'em; as the song says,
"Some faults we have all, and so has my Joan,
But then they're exceedingly small;
And, now I am used, they are like my own,
I scarcely can see 'em at all,
My dear friends,
I scarcely can see 'em at all."
Indeed, I begin to think she has none, as I think of you. And
since she is willing I should love you, as much as you are willing
to be loved by me, let us join in wishing the old lady a long life
and a happy.
With her respectful compliments to you, to your good
mother and sisters, present mine, though unknown; and believe
me to be, dear girl, your affectionate friend and humble servant,
B. Franklin.
P.S. Sally[49] says, "Papa, my love to Miss Katy."—If it was
not quite unreasonable, I should desire you to write to me every
post, whether you hear from me or not. As to your spelling,[277]
don't let those laughing girls put you out of conceit with it.
It is the best in the world, for every letter of it stands for something.
TO MISS CATHERINE RAY
Philadelphia, Oct. 16, 1755.
Dear Katy
Your Favour of the 28th of June came to hand but the 28th of
September, just 3 Months after it was written. I had, two
Weeks before, wrote you a long Chat, and sent it to the Care
of your Brother Ward. I hear you are now in Boston, gay and
lovely as usual. Let me give you some fatherly Advice. Kill
no more Pigeons than you can eat—Be a good Girl and dont
forget your Catechism.—Go constantly to Meeting—or church—till
you get a good Husband,—then stay at home, & nurse
the Children, and live like a Christian—Spend your spare
Hours, in sober Whisk, Prayers, or learning to cypher—You
must practise addition to your Husband's Estate, by Industry
and Frugality; subtraction of all unnecessary Expenses; Multiplication
(I would gladly have taught you that myself, but you
thought it was time enough, & wou'dn't learn) he will soon
make you a Mistress of it. As to Division, I say with Brother
Paul, Let there be no Division among ye. But as your good Sister
Hubbard (my love to her) is well acquainted with The Rule of
Two, I hope you will become an expert in the Rule of Three;
that when I have again the pleasure of seeing you, I may find
you like my Grape Vine, surrounded with Clusters, plump,
juicy, blushing, pretty little rogues, like their Mama. Adieu.
The Bell rings, and I must go among the Grave ones, and talk
Politicks.
Your affectionate Friend
B. Franklin.
P.S. The Plums came safe, and were so sweet from the
Cause you mentioned, that I could scarce taste the Sugar.
[278]
TO MRS. JANE MECOM
Philadelphia, February 12, 1756.
Dear Sister,
I condole with you on the loss of our dear brother.[50] As our
number grows less, let us love one another proportionably
more.
I am just returned from my military expedition, and now my
time is taken up in the Assembly. Providence seems to require
various duties of me. I know not what will be next; but I find,
the more I seek for leisure and retirement from business, the
more I am engaged in it. Benny, I understand, inclines to leave
Antigua. He may be in the right. I have no objections. My
love to brother and to your children. I am, dearest sister, your
affectionate brother,
B. Franklin.
TO MISS E. HUBBARD[51]
Philadelphia, February 23, 1756.
—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, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or in
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
incumbrance, 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[279]
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
which 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 REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD
New York, July 2, 1756.
Dear Sir:
I received your Favour of the 24th of February with great
Pleasure, as it inform'd me of your Welfare, and express'd your
continu'd Regard for me. I thank you for the Pamphlet you
enclos'd to me. As we had just observ'd a Provincial Fast on
the same Occasion, I thought it very seasonable to be publish'd
in Pennsylvania, and accordingly reprinted it immediately.
You mention your frequent wish that you were a Chaplain to
an American Army. I sometimes wish that you and I were
jointly employ'd by the Crown, to settle a Colony on the Ohio.
I imagine we could do it effectually, and without putting the
Nation to much expence. But I fear we shall never be called upon
for such a Service. What a glorious Thing it would be, to settle
in that fine Country a large strong Body of Religious and Industrious
People! What a Security to the other Colonies; and
Advantage to Britain, by Increasing her People, Territory,
Strength and Commerce. Might it not greatly facilitate the
Introduction of pure Religion among the Heathen, if we could,
by such a Colony, show them a better Sample of Christians than
they commonly see in our Indian Traders, the most vicious and
abandoned Wretches of our Nation?... Life, like a dramatic
Piece, should not only be conducted with Regularity, but methinks
it should finish handsomely. Being now in the last Act,[280]
I begin to cast about for something fit to end with. Or if mine
be more properly compar'd to an Epigram, as some of its few
Lines are but barely tolerable, I am very desirous of concluding
with a bright Point. In such an Enterprise I could spend the
Remainder of Life with Pleasure; and I firmly believe God would
bless us with Success, if we undertook it with a sincere Regard
to his Honour, the Service of our gracious King, and (which is
the same thing) the Publick Good.
I thank you cordially for your generous Benefaction to the
German School. They go on pretty well, and will do better,
when Mr. Smith,[52] who has at present the principal Care of
them, shall learn to mind Party-writing and Party Politicks less,
and his proper Business more; which I hope time will bring
about.
I thank you for your good Wishes and Prayers, and am, with
the greatest Esteem and Affection, Dear Sir
Your most obedient humble Servant
B. Franklin.
My best Respects to
Mrs. Whitefield
}
THE WAY TO WEALTH
Preface to Poor Richard Improved: 1758.[53]
Courteous Reader,
I have heard that nothing gives an Author so great Pleasure,
as to find his Works respectfully quoted by other learned
Authors. This Pleasure I have seldom enjoyed; for tho' I have
been, if I may say it without Vanity, an eminent Author of
Almanacks annually now a full Quarter of a Century, my
Brother Authors in the same Way, for what Reason I know not,
have ever been very sparing in their Applauses; and no other
Author has taken the least Notice of me, so that did not my
Writings produce me some solid Pudding, the great Deficiency
of Praise would have quite discouraged me.
I concluded at length, that the People were the best Judges of
my Merit; for they buy my Works; and besides, in my Rambles,[281]
where I am not personally known, I have frequently heard one
or other of my Adages repeated, with, as Poor Richard says, at
the End on't; this gave me some Satisfaction, as it showed not
only that my Instructions were regarded, but discovered likewise
some Respect for my Authority; and I own, that to encourage
the Practice of remembering and repeating those wise
Sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great Gravity.
Judge then how much I must have been gratified by an Incident
I am going to relate to you. I stopt my Horse lately where
a great Number of People were collected at a Vendue of Merchant
Goods. The Hour of Sale not being come, they were conversing
on the Badness of the Times, and one of the Company
call'd to a plain clean old Man, with white Locks, Pray, Father
Abraham, what think you of the Times? Won't 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
reply'd, If you'd have my Advice, I'll give it you in short, for a
Word to the Wise is enough, and many Words won't fill a Bushel,
as Poor Richard says. They join'd in desiring him to speak his
Mind, and gathering round him, he proceeded as follows;
"Friends, says he, and Neighbours, 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, in his Almanack of 1733.
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, if we reckon all
that is spent in absolute Sloth, or doing of nothing, with that
which is spent in idle Employments or Amusements, that amount
to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on Diseases, absolutely shortens
Life. Sloth, like Rust, consumes faster than Labour wears, while the[282]
used Key is always bright, as Poor Richard says. But dost thou
love Life, then do not squander Time, for that's 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, as Poor Richard
says; 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, as we read in Poor Richard, who
adds, Drive thy Business, let not that drive thee; and Early to Bed,
and early to rise, makes a Man healthy, wealthy and wise.
So what signifies wishing and hoping for better Times. We
may make these Times better if we bestir ourselves. Industry
need not wish, as Poor Richard says, and He that lives upon Hope
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.
And, as Poor Richard likewise observes, He that hath a Trade
hath an Estate, and He that hath a Calling, hath an Office of
Profit and Honour; but then the Trade must be worked at, and
the Calling well followed, or neither the Estate, nor the Office,
will enable us to pay our Taxes.—If we are industrious we shall
never starve; for, as Poor Richard says, At the working Man's
House Hunger looks in, but dares not enter. Nor will the Bailiff
or the Constable enter, for Industry pays Debts, while Despair
encreaseth them, says Poor Richard.—What though you have
found no Treasure, nor has any rich Relation left you a Legacy,
Diligence is the Mother of Good luck, as Poor Richard says, and
God gives all Things to Industry. Then plough deep, while Sluggards
sleep, and you shall have Corn to sell and to keep, says Poor
Dick. Work while it is called To-day, for you know not how
much you may be hindered To-morrow, which makes Poor[283]
Richard say, One To-day is worth two To-morrows; and farther,
Have you somewhat to do To-morrow, do it 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, as Poor Dick says. When there is so much to
be done for yourself, your Family, your Country, and your
gracious King, be up by Peep of Day; Let not the Sun look down
and say, Inglorious here he lies. Handle your Tools without
Mittens; remember that the Cat in Gloves catches no Mice, as
Poor Richard says. 'Tis 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, as Poor Richard says in his Almanack,
the Year I cannot just now remember.
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; so that, as Poor
Richard says, a Life of Leisure and a Life of Laziness are two
Things. Do you imagine that Sloth will afford you more Comfort
than Labour? No, for as Poor Richard says, Trouble springs
from Idleness, and grievous Toil from needless Ease. 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'll follow you. The diligent
Spinner has a large Shift; and now I have a Sheep and a Cow, every
Body bids me Good morrow; all which is well said by Poor Richard.
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.
[284]
And again, Three Removes is 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, as the Almanack says, 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, saith Poor Dick, Learning
is to the Studious, and Riches to the Careful, as well as Power
to the Bold, and Heaven to the Virtuous. And farther, If you
would have a faithful Servant, and one that you like, serve yourself.
And again, he adviseth to Circumspection and Care, even in
the smallest Matters, because sometimes a little Neglect may
breed great Mischief; adding, 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 want of Care about a Horse shoe Nail.
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, as Poor Richard says; 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, says he, in another Almanack, 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 have so much
Cause to complain of hard Times, heavy Taxes, and chargeable
Families; for, as Poor Dick says,[285]
Women and Wine, Game and Deceit,
Make the Wealth small, and the Wants great.
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 what Poor Richard says, Many a Little makes a
Mickle; and farther, Beware of little Expences; a small Leak
will sink a great Ship; 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 Vendue of Fineries and
Knicknacks. 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 straitning
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, Poor Richard says, 'Tis foolish to lay out
Money in a Purchase of Repentance; and yet this Folly is practised
every Day at Vendues, for want of minding the Almanack.
Wise Men, as Poor Dick says, learn by others Harms, Fools
scarcely by their own; but Felix quem faciunt aliena Pericula
cautum. Many a one, for the Sake of Finery on the Back, have
gone with a hungry Belly, and half starved their Families;
Silks and Sattins, Scarlet and Velvets, as Poor Richard says, put
out the Kitchen Fire. These are not the Necessaries of Life; they
can scarcely be called the Conveniencies, and yet only because
they look pretty, how many want to have them. The artificial
Wants of Mankind thus become more numerous than the natural;
and, as Poor Dick says, For one poor Person, there are an
hundred indigent. By these, and other Extravagancies, the Genteel
are reduced to Poverty, and forced to borrow of those
whom they formerly despised, but who through Industry and[286]
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 'tis Day, and will never be Night; that a
little to be spent out of so much, is not worth minding; (a Child
and a Fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine Twenty Shillings and
Twenty Years can never be spent) but, always taking out of, the
Meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the Bottom; then, as
Poor Dick says, When the Well's 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;
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;
E'er 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, 'Tis easier to suppress the first Desire, than to
satisfy all that follow it. And 'tis as truly Folly for the Poor to
ape the Rich, as for the Frog to swell, in order to equal the Ox.
Great Estates may venture more,
But little Boats should keep near Shore.
'Tis however a Folly soon punished; for Pride that dines on
Vanity sups on Contempt, as Poor Richard says. And in another
Place, 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, or ease Pain; it makes no Increase of
Merit in the Person, it creates Envy, it hastens Misfortune.
What is a Butterfly? At best
He's but a Caterpillar drest.
The gaudy Fop's his Picture just,
as Poor Richard says.[287]
But what Madness must it be to run in Debt for these Superfluities!
We are offered, by the Terms of this Vendue, 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, as
Poor Richard says, The second Vice is Lying, the first is running
in Debt. And again, to the same Purpose, Lying rides upon
Debt's Back. Whereas a freeborn Englishman ought not to be
ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any Man living. But Poverty
often deprives a Man of all Spirit and Virtue: 'Tis hard for
an empty Bag to stand upright, as Poor Richard truly says. What
would you think of that Prince, or that Government, who
should issue an Edict forbidding you to dress like a Gentleman
or a Gentlewoman, on Pain of Imprisonment or Servitude?
Would you not say, that you are 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 yourself under that 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
Goal [sic] for Life, or to sell you for a Servant, if you should not be
able to pay him! When you have got your Bargain, you may,
perhaps, think little of Payment; but Creditors, Poor Richard
tells us, have better Memories than Debtors; and in another Place
says, 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 extreamly short. Time
will seem to have added Wings to his Heels as well as Shoulders.
Those have a short Lent, saith Poor Richard, who owe Money to
be paid at Easter. Then since, as he says, The Borrower is a[288]
Slave to the Lender, and the Debtor to the Creditor, disdain the
Chain, preserve your Freedom; and maintain your Independency:
Be industrious and free; be frugal and free. At present,
perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving Circumstances,
and that you can bear a little Extravangance [sic] without Injury;
but,
For Age and Want, save while you may;
No Morning Sun lasts a whole Day,
as Poor Richard says—Gain may be temporary and uncertain,
but ever while you live, Expence is constant and certain; and
'tis easier to build two Chimnies than to keep one in Fuel, as Poor
Richard says. So rather go to Bed supperless than rise in Debt.
Get what you can, and what you get hold;
'Tis the Stone that will turn all your Lead into Gold,
as Poor Richard says. And when you have got the Philosopher's
Stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad Times, or the
Difficulty of paying Taxes.
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 afterwards prosperous.
And now to conclude, Experience keeps a dear School, but
Fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that; for it is true, we
may give Advice, but we cannot give Conduct, as Poor Richard
says: However, remember this, They that won't be counselled,
can't be helped, as Poor Richard says: And farther, That if you
will not hear Reason, she'll surely rap your Knuckles."
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
Vendue opened, and they began to buy extravagantly, notwithstanding
all his Cautions, and their own Fear of Taxes.—I[289]
found the good Man had thoroughly studied my Almanacks,
and digested all I had dropt on those Topicks during the Course
of Five-and-twenty 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 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.
July 7, 1757.
TO HUGH ROBERTS
London, September 16, 1758.
Dear Friend,
Your kind letter of June 1st gave me great pleasure. I thank
you for the concern you express about my health, which at
present seems tolerably confirmed by my late journey into different
parts of the kingdom, that have been highly entertaining
as well as useful to me. Your visits to my little family in my
absence are very obliging, and I hope you will be so good as
to continue them. Your remark on the thistle and the Scotch
motto made us very merry, as well as your string of puns. You
will allow me to claim a little merit or demerit in the last, as
having had some hand in making you a punster; but the wit of
the first is keen, and all your own.
Two of the former members of the Junto you tell me are departed
this life, Potts and Parsons.[54] Odd characters both of them.
Parsons a wise man, that often acted foolishly; Potts a wit, that
seldom acted wisely. If enough were the means to make a man
happy, one had always the means of happiness, without ever
enjoying the thing; the other had always the thing, without ever[290]
possessing the means. Parsons, even in his prosperity, always
fretting; Potts, in the midst of his poverty, ever laughing. It
seems, then, that happiness in this life rather depends on internals
than externals; and that, besides the natural effects of
wisdom and virtue, vice and folly, there is such a thing as a
happy or an unhappy constitution. They were both our friends,
and loved us. So, peace to their shades. They had their virtues
as well as their foibles; they were both honest men, and that
alone, as the world goes, is one of the greatest of characters.
They were old acquaintances, in whose company I formerly
enjoyed a great deal of pleasure, and I cannot think of losing
them, without concern and regret.
I shall, as you suppose, look on every opportunity you give
me of doing you service, as a favour, because it will afford me
pleasure. I know how to make you ample returns for such
favours, by giving you the pleasure of building me a house.
You may do it without losing any of your own time; it will only
take some part of that you now spend in other folks' business.
It is only jumping out of their waters into mine.
I am grieved for our friend Syng's loss. You and I, who
esteem him, and have valuable sons ourselves, can sympathize
with him sincerely. I hope yours is perfectly recovered, for your
sake as well as for his own. I wish he may be, in every respect,
as good and as useful as his father. I need not wish him more;
and can only add, that I am, with great esteem, dear friend,
yours affectionately,
B. Franklin.
P.S. I rejoice to hear of the prosperity of the Hospital, and
send the wafers. I do not quite like your absenting yourself
from that good old club, the Junto. Your more frequent presence
might be a means of keeping them from being all engaged
in measures not the best for public welfare. I exhort you, therefore,
to return to your duty; and, as the Indians say, to confirm
my words, I send you a Birmingham tile. I thought the neatness
of the figures would please you.[291]
TO MRS. JANE MECOM
London, September 16, 1758.
Dear Sister,
I received your favour of June 17. I wonder you have had
no letter from me since my being in England. I have wrote you
at least two, and I think a third before this, and what was next
to waiting on you in person, sent you my picture. In June last
I sent Benny a trunk of books, and wrote to him; I hope they
are come to hand, and that he meets with encouragement in his
business. I congratulate you on the conquest of Cape Breton,
and hope as your people took it by praying, the first time, you
will now pray that it may never be given up again, which you
then forgot. Billy is well, but in the country. I left him at Tunbridge
Wells, where we spent a fortnight, and he is now gone
with some company to see Portsmouth. We have been together
over a great part of England this summer, and among other
places, visited the town our father was born in, and found some
relations in that part of the country still living.
Our cousin Jane Franklin, daughter of our uncle John, died
about a year ago. We saw her husband, Robert Page, who gave
us some old letters to his wife, from uncle Benjamin. In one of
them, dated Boston, July 4, 1723, he writes that your uncle
Josiah has a daughter Jane, about twelve years old, a good-humoured
child. So keep up to your character, and don't be
angry when you have no letters. In a little book he sent her,
called "None but Christ," he wrote an acrostick on her name,
which for namesake's sake, as well as the good advice it contains,
I transcribe and send you, viz.
"Illuminated from on high,
And shining brightly in your sphere,
Ne'er faint, but keep a steady eye,
Expecting endless pleasures there.
"Flee vice as you'd a serpent flee;
Raise faith and hope three stories higher,
And let Christ's endless love to thee
Ne'er cease to make thy love aspire.
[292]
Kindness of heart by words express,
Let your obedience be sincere,
In prayer and praise your God address,
Nor cease, till he can cease to hear."
After professing truly that I had a great esteem and veneration
for the pious author, permit me a little to play the commentator
and critic on these lines. The meaning of three stories
higher seems somewhat obscure. You are to understand, then,
that faith, hope, and charity have been called the three steps of
Jacob's ladder, reaching from earth to heaven; our author calls
them stories, likening religion to a building, and these are the
three stories of the Christian edifice. Thus improvement in
religion is called building up and edification. Faith is then the
ground floor, hope is up one pair of stairs. My dear beloved
Jenny, don't delight so much to dwell in those lower rooms,
but get as fast as you can into the garret, for in truth the best
room in the house is charity. For my part, I wish the house
was turned upside down; 'tis so difficult (when one is fat) to go
up stairs; and not only so, but I imagine hope and faith may be
more firmly built upon charity, than charity upon faith and
hope. However that may be, I think it the better reading to
say—
"Raise faith and hope one story higher."
Correct it boldly, and I'll support the alteration; for, when you
are up two stories already, if you raise your building three
stories higher you will make five in all, which is two more than
there should be, you expose your upper rooms more to the
winds and storms; and, besides, I am afraid the foundation will
hardly bear them, unless indeed you build with such light stuff
as straw and stubble, and that, you know, won't stand fire.
Again, where the author says,
"Kindness of heart by words express,"
strike out words, and put in deeds. The world is too full of
compliments already. They are the rank growth of every soil,
and choak the good plants of benevolence, and beneficence;[293]
nor do I pretend to be the first in this comparison of words and
actions to plants; you may remember an ancient poet, whose
works we have all studied and copied at school long ago.
"A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds."
'Tis a pity that good works, among some sorts of people, are
so little valued, and good words admired in their stead: I mean
seemingly pious discourses, instead of humane benevolent actions.
Those they almost put out of countenance, by calling
morality rotten morality, righteousness ragged righteousness, and
even filthy rags—and when you mention virtue, pucker up their
noses as if they smelt a stink; at the same time that they eagerly
snuff up an empty canting harangue, as if it was a posey of the
choicest flowers: So they have inverted the good old verse, and
say now
"A man of deeds and not of words
Is like a garden full of ——"
I have forgot the rhyme, but remember 'tis something the very
reverse of perfume. So much by way of commentary.
My wife will let you see my letter, containing an account of
our travels, which I would have you read to sister Dowse, and
give my love to her. I have no thoughts of returning till next
year, and then may possibly have the pleasure of seeing you and
yours; taking Boston in my way home. My love to brother and
all your children, concludes at this time from, dear Jenny, your
affectionate brother,
B. Franklin.
TO LORD KAMES[55]
London, May 3, 1760.
My Dear Lord,
I have endeavoured to comply with your request in writing
something on the present situation of our affairs in America,
in order to give more correct notions of the British interest with
regard to the colonies, than those I found many sensible men[294]
possessed of. Inclosed you have the production, such as it is.
I wish it may in any degree be of service to the public. I shall
at least hope this from it, for my own part, that you will consider
it as a letter from me to you, and take its length as some
excuse for being so long a-coming.[56]
I am now reading with great pleasure and improvement your
excellent work, The Principles of Equity. It will be of the greatest
advantage to the Judges in our colonies, not only in those
which have Courts of Chancery, but also in those which, having
no such courts, are obliged to mix equity with the common law.
It will be of more service to the colony Judges, as few of them
have been bred to the law. I have sent a book to a particular
friend, one of the Judges of the Supreme Court in Pennsylvania.
I will shortly send you a copy of the Chapter you are pleased
to mention in so obliging a manner; and shall be extremely
obliged in receiving a copy of the collection of Maxims for the
Conduct of Life, which you are preparing for the use of your
children. I purpose likewise a little work for the benefit of
youth, to be called The Art of Virtue.[57] From the title I think
you will hardly conjecture what the nature of such a book
may be. I must therefore explain it a little. Many people lead
bad lives that would gladly lead good ones, but know not how
to make the change. They have frequently resolved and endeavoured
it; but in vain, because their endeavours have not
been properly conducted. To expect people to be good, to be
just, to be temperate, &c., without shewing them how they should
become so, seems like the ineffectual charity mentioned by the
Apostle, which consisted in saying to the hungry, the cold, and
the naked, "Be ye fed, be ye warmed, be ye clothed," without
shewing them how they should get food, fire, or clothing.
Most people have naturally some virtues, but none have
naturally all the virtues. To acquire those that are wanting, and
secure what we acquire, as well as those we have naturally, is
the subject of an art. It is as properly an art as painting, navigation,
or architecture. If a man would become a painter,
navigator, or architect, it is not enough that he is advised to be[295]
one, that he is convinced by the arguments of his adviser, that
it would be for his advantage to be one, and that he resolves to
be one, but he must also be taught the principles of the art,
be shewn all the methods of working, and how to acquire the
habits of using properly all the instruments; and thus regularly
and gradually he arrives, by practice, at some perfection in the
art. If he does not proceed thus, he is apt to meet with difficulties
that discourage him, and make him drop the pursuit.
My Art of Virtue has also its instruments, and teaches the
manner of using them. Christians are directed to have faith in
Christ, as the effectual means of obtaining the change they desire.
It may, when sufficiently strong, be effectual with many:
for a full opinion, that a Teacher is infinitely wise, good, and
powerful, and that he will certainly reward and punish the
obedient and disobedient, must give great weight to his precepts,
and make them much more attended to by his disciples.
But many have this faith in so weak a degree, that it does not
produce the effect. Our Art of Virtue may, therefore, be of
great service to those whose faith is unhappily not so strong,
and may come in aid of its weakness. Such as are naturally well
disposed, and have been so carefully educated, as that good
habits have been early established, and bad ones prevented,
have less need of this art; but all may be more or less benefited
by it. It is, in short, to be adapted for universal use. I imagine
what I have now been writing will seem to savour of great
presumption: I must therefore speedily finish my little piece,
and communicate the manuscript to you, that you may judge
whether it is possible to make good such pretensions. I shall
at the same time hope for the benefit of your corrections.
I am, &c.
B. Franklin.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON[58]
Craven Street, June 11, 1760.
Dear Polly:
'Tis a very sensible Question you ask, how the Air can affect
the Barometer, when its Opening appears covered with Wood?[296]
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
Mercury at the lower End is contain'd in a close Leather Bag,
and so the Air cannot come into immediate Contact with the
Mercury; yet the same Effect is produc'd. For, the Leather
being flexible, when the Bag is press'd 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 Observation 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 oblig'd
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 Ship-building[297]
at the King's Yards in that Country, a kind of Worms were
found, which every year became more numerous and more
pernicious, so that the Ships were greatly damag'd before they
came into Use. The King sent Linnæus, the great Naturalist,
from Stockholm, to enquire 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 this Fly laid its
Eggs, Linnæus knew to be about a Fortnight (I think) in the
Month of May, and at no other time of the Year. He therefore
advis'd, 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 their usual Nest, could not increase;
and the Species was either destroy'd 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
satyrist.
Adieu, my dear Friend, and believe me ever
Yours affectionately,
B. Franklin.
[298]
TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN
London, June 27, 1760.
My Dear Child,
I wrote a Line to you by the Pacquet, to let you know we
were well, and I promis'd to write you fully by Capt. Budden,
and answer all your Letters, which I accordingly now sit down
to do. I am concern'd that so much Trouble should be given
you by idle Reports concerning me. Be satisfied, my dear,
that while I have my Senses, and God vouchsafes me his Protection,
I shall do nothing unworthy the Character of an honest
Man, and one that loves his Family.
I have not yet seen Mr. Beatty, nor do I know where to
write to him. He forwarded your Letter to me from Ireland.
The Paragraph of your Letter inserted in the Papers, related
to the Negro School. I gave it to the Gentlemen concern'd,
as it was a Testimony in favour of their pious Design. But I
did not expect they would have printed it with your Name.
They have since chosen [me] one of the Society, and I am at
present Chairman for the current year. I enclose you an Account
of their Proceedings.[59]
I did not receive the Prospect of Quebec, which you mention
that you sent me. Peter continues with me, and behaves as well
as I can expect, in a Country where there are many Occasions
of spoiling Servants, if they are ever so good. He has as few
Faults as most of them, and I see with only one Eye, and hear
only with one Ear; so we rub on pretty comfortably. King,
that you enquire after, is not with us. He ran away from our
House, near two Years ago, while we were absent in the Country;
But was soon found in Suffolk, where he had been taken in the
Service of a Lady, that was very fond of the Merit of making
him a Christian, and contributing to his Education and Improvement.
As he was of little Use, and often in Mischief,
Billy consented to her keeping him while we stay in England.
So the Lady sent him to School, has him taught to read and
write, to play on the Violin and French Horn, with some other
Accomplishments more useful in a Servant. Whether she will[299]
finally be willing to part with him, or persuade Billy to sell him
to her, I know not. In the mean time he is no Expence to us.
The dried Venison was very acceptable, and I thank you for it.
We have had it constantly shav'd to eat with our Bread and
Butter for Breakfast, and this Week saw the last of it. The
Bacon still holds out, for we are choice of it. Some Rashers of
it, yesterday relish'd a Dish of Green Pease. Mrs. Stevenson
thinks there was never any in England so good. The smok'd
Beef was also excellent.
The Accounts you give me of the Marriages of our friends
are very agreeable. I love to hear of every thing that tends to
increase the Number of good People. You cannot conceive
how shamefully the Mode here is a single Life. One can scarce
be in the Company of a Dozen Men of Circumstance and Fortune,
but what it is odds that you find on enquiry eleven of
them are single. The great Complaint is the excessive Expensiveness
of English Wives.
I am extreamly concern'd with you at the Misfortune of our
Friend Mr. Griffith. How could it possibly happen? 'Twas a
terrible Fire that of Boston. I shall contribute here towards
the Relief of the Sufferers. Our Relations have escap'd I believe
generally; but some of my particular Friends must have
suffer'd greatly.
I think you will not complain this Year, as you did the last,
of being so long without a Letter. I have wrote to you very
frequently; and shall not be so much out of the Way of writing
this Summer as I was the last. I hope our friend Bartram is
safely return'd to his Family. Remember me to him in the
kindest Manner.
Poor David Edwards died this Day Week, of a Consumption.
I had a Letter from a Friend of his, acquainting me that
he had been long ill, and incapable of doing his Business, and
was at Board in the Country. I fear'd he might be in Straits, as
he never was prudent enough to lay up any thing. So I wrote
to him immediately, that, if he had occasion, he might draw on
me for Five Guineas. But he died before my Letter got to
hand. I hear the Woman, at whose House he long lodg'd and[300]
boarded, has buried him and taken all he left, which could not
be much, and there are some small Debts unpaid. He maintained
a good Character at Bury, where he lived some years, and was
well respected, to my Knowledge, by some Persons of Note
there. I wrote to you before, that we saw him at Bury, when
we went thro' Suffolk into Norfolk, the Year before last. I
hope his good Father, my old Friend, continues well.
Give my Duty to Mother, and Love to my dear Sally. Remember
me affectionately to all Enquiring Friends, and believe
me ever, my dearest Debby, your loving Husband,
B. Franklin.
TO JARED INGERSOLL[60]
Philadelphia, December 11, 1762.
Dear Sir:—
I thank you for your kind congratulations. It gives me
pleasure to hear from an old friend; it will give me much more
pleasure to see him. I hope, therefore, nothing will prevent
the journey you propose for next summer and the favour you
intend me of a visit. I believe I must make a journey early
in the spring to Virginia, but purpose being back again before
the hot weather. You will be kind enough to let me know
beforehand what time you expect to be here, that I may not
be out of the way, for that would mortify me exceedingly.
I should be glad to know what it is that distinguishes Connecticut
religion from common religion. Communicate, if you
please, some of these particulars that you think will amuse me
as a virtuoso. When I travelled in Flanders, I thought of your
excessively strict observation of Sunday; and that a man could
hardly travel on that day among you upon his lawful occasions
without hazard of punishment; while, where I was, every one
travelled, if he pleased, or diverted himself in any other way;
and in the afternoon both high and low went to the play or the
opera, where there was plenty of singing, fiddling and dancing.
I looked around for God's judgments, but saw no signs of
them. The cities were well built and full of inhabitants, the[301]
markets filled with plenty, the people well favoured and well
clothed, the fields well tilled, the cattle fat and strong, the fences,
houses, and windows all in repair, and no Old Tenor anywhere
in the country; which would almost make one suspect that the
Deity is not so angry at that offence as a New England Justice.
I left our friend Mr. Jackson[61] well, and I had the great pleasure
of finding my little family well when I came home, and my
friends as cordial and more numerous than ever. May every
prosperity attend you and yours. I am, dear friend, yours
affectionately,
B. Franklin.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON
Philada, March 25, 1763.
My Dear Polley,
Your pleasing Favour of Nov. 11 is now before me. It found
me as you suppos'd it would, happy with my American Friends
and Family about me; and it made me more happy in showing
me that I am not yet forgotten by the dear Friends I left in
England. And indeed, why should I fear they will ever forget
me, when I feel so strongly that I shall ever remember them!
I sympathise with you sincerely in your Grief at the Separation
from your old Friend, Miss Pitt. The Reflection that she
is going to be more happy, when she leaves you, might comfort
you, if the Case was likely to be so circumstanc'd; but when
the Country and Company she has been educated in, and those
she is removing to, are compared, one cannot possibly expect it.
I sympathize no less with you in your Joys. But it is not merely
on your Account, that I rejoice at the Recovery of your dear
Dolly's Health. I love that dear good Girl myself, and I love
her other Friends. I am, therefore, made happy by what must
contribute so much to the Happiness of them all. Remember
me to her, and to every one of that worthy and amiable Family,
most affectionately.
Remember me in the same manner to your and my good
Doctor and Mrs. Hawkesworth.[62] You have lately, you tell
me, had the Pleasure of spending three Days with them at[302]
Mr. Stanley's. It was a sweet Society! I too, once partook of
that same Pleasure, and can therefore feel what you must have
felt. Remember me also to Mr. and Mrs. Stanley,[63] and to Miss
Arlond.
Of all the enviable Things England has, I envy it most its
People. Why should that petty Island, which compar'd to
America, is but like a stepping-Stone in a Brook, scarce enough
of it above Water to keep one's Shoes dry; why, I say, should
that little Island enjoy in almost every Neighbourhood, more
sensible, virtuous, and elegant Minds, than we can collect in
ranging 100 Leagues of our vast forests? But 'tis said the Arts
delight to travel Westward. You have effectually defended us
in this glorious War, and in time you will improve us. After
the first Cares for the Necessaries of Life are over, we shall come
to think of the Embellishments. Already some of our young
Geniuses begin to lisp Attempts at Painting, Poetry, and Musick.
We have a young Painter now studying at Rome.[64]
Some specimens of our Poetry I send you, which if Dr. Hawkesworth's
fine Taste cannot approve, his good Heart will at least
excuse. The Manuscript Piece is by a young Friend of mine,
and was occasion'd by the Loss of one of his Friends, who
lately made a Voyage to Antigua to settle some Affairs, previous
to an intended Marriage with an amiable young Lady here, but
unfortunately died there. I send it to you, because the Author
is a great Admirer of Mr. Stanley's musical Compositions, and
has adapted this Piece to an Air in the 6th Concerto of that
Gentleman, the sweetly solemn Movement of which he is quite
in Raptures with. He has attempted to compose a Recitativo
for it, but not being able to satisfy himself in the Bass, wishes
I could get it supply'd. If Mr. Stanley would condescend to do
that for him, thro' your Intercession, he would esteem it as one
of the highest Honours, and it would make him excessively
happy. You will say that a Recitativo can be but a poor Specimen
of our Music. 'Tis the best and all I have at present, but
you may see better hereafter.
I hope Mr. Ralph's[65] Affairs are mended since you wrote.
I know he had some Expectations, when I came away, from a[303]
Hand that would help him. He has Merit, and one would think
ought not to be so unfortunate.
I do not wonder at the behaviour you mention of Dr. Smith
towards me, for I have long since known him thoroughly. I
made that Man my Enemy by doing him too much Kindness.
'Tis the honestest Way of acquiring an Enemy. And, since 'tis
convenient to have at least one Enemy, who by his Readiness
to revile one on all Occasions, may make one careful of one's
Conduct, I shall keep him an Enemy for that purpose; and shall
observe your good Mother's Advice, never again to receive him
as a Friend. She once admir'd the benevolent Spirit breath'd
in his Sermons. She will now see the Justness of the Lines your
Laureat Whitehead addresses to his Poets, and which I now
address to her.
"Full many a peevish, envious, slanderous Elf
Is, in his Works, Benevolence itself.
For all Mankind, unknown, his Bosom heaves;
He only injures those, with whom he lives.
Read then the Man;—does Truth his Actions guide,
Exempt from Petulance, exempt from Pride?
To social Duties does his Heart attend,
As Son, as Father, Husband, Brother, Friend?
Do those, who know him, love him? If they do,
You've my Permission: you may love him too."
Nothing can please me more than to see your philosophical
Improvements when you have Leisure to communicate them
to me. I still owe you a long Letter on that Subject, which I
shall pay. I am vex'd with Mr. James, that he has been so
dilatory in Mr. Maddison's Armonica. I was unlucky in both
the Workmen, that I permitted to undertake making those
Instruments. The first was fanciful, and never could work to
the purpose, because he was ever conceiving some new Improvement,
that answer'd no End. The other I doubt is absolutely idle.
I have recommended a Number to him from hence,
but must stop my hand.
Adieu, my dear Polly, and believe me as ever, with the sincerest[304]
Esteem and Regard, your truly affectionate Friend and
humble Servant,
B. Franklin.
P.S. My love to Mrs. Tickell and Mrs. Rooke, and to Pitty,
when you write to her. Mrs. Franklin and Sally desire to be
affectionately remember'd to you. I find the printed Poetry I
intended to enclose will be too bulky to send per the Packet.
I shall send it by a Ship, that goes shortly from hence.
TO JOHN FOTHERGILL, M.D.[66]
March 14, 1764.
Dear Doctor,—
I received your favour of the 10th of December. It was a
great deal for one to write whose time was so little his own.
By the way, when do you intend to live?—i.e., to enjoy life.
When will you retire to your villa, give yourself repose, delight
in viewing the operations of nature in the vegetable creation,
assist her in her works, get your ingenious friends at times about
you, make them happy with your conversation, and enjoy
theirs: or, if alone, amuse yourself with your books and elegant
collections?
To be hurried about perpetually from one sick chamber to
another is not living. Do you please yourself with the fancy
that you are doing good? You are mistaken. Half the lives you
save are not worth saving, as being useless, and almost all the
other half ought not to be saved, as being mischievous. Does
your conscience never hint to you the impiety of being in constant
warfare against the plans of Providence? Disease was
intended as the punishment of intemperence, sloth, and other
vices, and the example of that punishment was intended to promote
and strengthen the opposite virtues. But here you step
in officiously with your Art, disappoint those wise intentions
of nature, and make men safe in their excesses, whereby you
seem to me to be of just the same service to society as some favourite
first minister who out of the great benevolence of his
heart should procure pardons of all criminals that applied to
him; only think of the consequences.[305]
You tell me the Quakers are charged on your side of the
water with being, by their aggressions, the cause of the war.
Would you believe it that they are charged here, not with offending
the Indians and thereby provoking the war, but with
gaining their friendship by presents, supplying them privately
with arms and ammunition, and engaging them to fall upon
and murder the poor white people on the frontiers? Would
you think it possible that thousands even here should be made
to believe this, and many hundreds of them be raised in arms,
not only to kill some converted Indians, supposed to be under
the Quakers' protection, but to punish the Quakers who were
supposed to give that protection? Would you think these
people audacious enough to avow such designs in a public declaration
sent to the Governor? Would you imagine that innocent
Quakers, men of fortune and character, should think it
necessary to fly for safety out of Philadelphia into the Jersies,
fearing the violence of such armed mobs, and confiding little
in the power or inclination of the government to protect them?
And would you imagine that strong suspicions now prevail
that those mobs, after committing so barbarous murders hitherto
unpunished, are privately tampered with to be made instruments
of government to awe the Assembly into proprietary
measures? And yet all this has happened within a few weeks
past.
More wonders. You know that I don't love the proprietary
and that he does not love me. Our totally different tempers
forbid it. You might therefore expect that the late new appointments
of one of his family would find me ready for opposition.
And yet when his nephew arrived, our Governor, I considered
government as government, and paid him all respect, gave him
on all occasions my best advice, promoted in the Assembly a
ready compliance with every thing he proposed or recommended,
and when those daring rioters, encouraged by general
approbation of the populace, treated his proclamation with contempt,
I drew my pen in the cause; wrote a pamphlet (that I
have sent you) to render the rioters unpopular; promoted an
association to support the authority of the Government and[306]
defend the Governor by taking arms, signed it first myself and
was followed by several hundreds, who took arms accordingly.
The Governor offered me the command of them, but I chose
to carry a musket and strengthen his authority by setting an
example of obedience to his order. And would you think it,
this proprietary Governor did me the honour, in an alarm, to
run to my house at midnight, with his counsellors at his heels,
for advice, and made it his head-quarters for some time. And
within four and twenty hours, your old friend was a common
soldier, a counsellor, a kind of dictator, an ambassador to the
country mob, and on his returning home, nobody again. All
this has happened in a few weeks.
More wonders! The Assembly received a Governor of the
Proprietary family with open arms, addressed him with sincere
expressions of kindness and respect, opened their purses to them,
and presented him with six hundred pounds; made a Riot Act
and prepared a Militia Bill immediately, at his instance, granted
supplies, and did everything that he requested, and promised
themselves great happiness under his administration. But suddenly
his dropping all inquiries after the murderers, and his
answering the disputes of the rioters privately and refusing
the presence of the Assembly who were equally concerned in the
matters contained in their remonstrance, brings him under suspicion;
his insulting the Assembly without the least provocation
by charging them with disloyalty and with making an infringement
on the King's prerogatives, only because they had presumed
to name in a bill offered for his assent a trifling officer
(somewhat like one of your toll-gatherers at a turnpike) without
consulting him, and his refusing several of their bills or
proposing amendments needless disgusting.
These things bring him and his government into sudden
contempt. All regard for him in the Assembly is lost. All hopes
of happiness under a Proprietary Government are at an end.
It has now scarce authority enough to keep the common peace,
and was another to come, I question, though a dozen men were
sufficient, whether one could find so many in Philadelphia
willing to rescue him or his Attorney General, I won't say from[307]
hanging, but from any common insult. All this too happened
in a few weeks.
In fine, everything seems in this country, once the land of
peace and order, to be running fast into anarchy and confusion.
But we hope there is virtue enough in your great nation to support
a good Prince in the execution of a good government and
the exercise of his just prerogatives against all the attempts of
unreasonable faction. I have been already too long. Adieu,
my dear friend, and believe me ever, yours affectionately,
B. Franklin.
TO SARAH FRANKLIN
Reedy Island, 7 at night, November 8, 1764.
My Dear Sally,
We got down here at sunset, having taken in more live stock
at Newcastle, with some other things we wanted. Our good
friends, Mr. Galloway, Mr. Wharton, and Mr. James, came
with me in the ship from Chester to Newcastle and went
ashore there. It was kind to favour me with their good company
as far as they could. The affectionate leave taken of me by so
many friends at Chester was very endearing. God bless them
and all Pennsylvania.
My dear child, the natural prudence and goodness of heart
God has blest you with make it less necessary for me to be
particular in giving you advice. I shall therefore only say, that
the more attentively dutiful and tender you are towards your
good mamma, the more you will recommend yourself to me.
But why should I mention me, when you have so much higher
a promise in the commandments, that such conduct will recommend
you to the favour of God. You know I have many
enemies, all indeed on the public account, (for I cannot recollect
that I have in a private capacity given just cause of offence to
any one whatever,) yet they are enemies, and very bitter ones;
and you must expect their enmity will extend in some degree to
you, so that your slightest indiscretions will be magnified into
crimes, in order the more sensibly to wound and afflict me.
It is therefore the more necessary for you to be extremely circumspect[308]
in all your behaviour, that no advantage may be given
to their malevolence.
Go constantly to church, whoever preaches. The act of devotion
in the Common Prayer Book is your principal business
there, and if properly attended to, will do more towards amending
the heart than sermons generally can do. For they were
composed by men of much greater piety and wisdom, than our
common composers of sermons can pretend to be; and therefore
I wish you would never miss the prayer days; yet I do not mean
you should despise sermons, even of the preachers you dislike,
for the discourse is often much better than the man, as sweet
and clear waters come through very dirty earth. I am the more
particular on this head, as you seemed to express a little before
I came away some inclination to leave our church, which I would
not have you do.
For the rest, I would only recommend to you in my absence,
to acquire those useful accomplishments, arithmetic and bookkeeping.
This you might do with ease, if you would resolve
not to see company on the hours you set apart for those studies.
We expect to be at sea to-morrow, if this wind holds; after
which I shall have no opportunity of writing to you, till I arrive
(if it please God I do arrive) in England. I pray that his
blessing may attend you, which is worth more than a thousand
of mine, though they are never wanting. Give my love to your
brother and sister,[67] as I cannot write to them, and remember
me affectionately to the young ladies your friends, and to our
good neighbours. I am, my dear child, your affectionate father,
B. Franklin.
From A NARRATIVE OF THE LATE MASSACRES
IN LANCASTER COUNTY, OF A NUMBER OF INDIANS, FRIENDS OF
THIS PROVINCE, BY PERSONS UNKNOWN. WITH SOME
OBSERVATIONS ON THE SAME.[68]
[1764]
... On Wednesday, the 14th of December, 1763, Fifty-seven
Men, from some of our Frontier Townships, who had projected[309]
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 Conestogoe
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 burnt 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-burnt Bodies of their murdered Parents and
other Relations, cannot well be expressed.
Notwithstanding this Proclamation [by the Governor], 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[310]
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, huzza'd 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.
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 afterwards 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 nought 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[311]
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 drave 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 rev'rend Age had met a shameful 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 heap'd an ample Bed.
Joy touch'd the Hero's tender Soul, to find
So just Reception from a Heart so kind:
[312]
And [']Oh, ye Gods! with all your Blessings grace'
(He thus broke forth) 'this Friend of human Race![']
The Swain reply'd. [']It never was our guise
To slight the Poor, or aught humane despise.
For Jove unfolds the hospitable Door,
'Tis Jove that sends the Stranger and the Poor.[']"[69]
These Heathen People thought, that after a Breach of the
Rites of Hospitality, a Curse from Heaven would attend them
in every thing 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, O Guest! great Laud and Praise were mine,
If, after social Rites and Gifts bestow'd,
I stain'd 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 his 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 turn'd to Flight; the gath'ring Vengeance spread
On all Parts round, and Heaps on Heaps lie dead.
The radiant Helmet from my Brows unlac'd,
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 sav'd, he plac'd me at his Side;
My State he pity'd, and my Tears he dry'd;
Restrain'd the Rage the vengeful Foe express'd,
And turn'd the deadly Weapons from my Breast.
Pious to guard the Hospitable Rite,
And fearing Jove, whom Mercy's Works delight."
[313]
The Suitors of Penelope are by the same ancient Poet described
as a sett 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 Suitors 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 defy'd;
But Heav'n is just, and by a God they dy'd."
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 an Hundred
Years; and that the governing Part of those People have
had Notions of Honour, whatever may be the Case with the
Rum-debauched, Trader-corrupted Vagabonds and Thieves on
the Sasquehannah and Ohio, at present in Arms against us.
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 Publick, 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 Mahomet'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[314]
in War against us, and have drank 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 have even 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 Whitemen and Christians act like a Pagan Negroe? 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 Donesgall!
O, 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 Country-folks (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,[315]
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.
Let us rouze 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 every Thing.
TO THE EDITOR OF A NEWSPAPER
Monday, May 20, [1765].
Sir,
In your Paper of Wednesday last, an ingenious Correspondent
that calls himself The Spectator, and dates from Pimlico,
under the Guise of Good Will to the News-writers, whom he
calls an "useful Body of Men in this great City," has, in my
Opinion, artfully attempted to turn them & their Works into
Ridicule, wherein if he could succeed, great Injury might be
done to the Public as well as to those good People.
Supposing, Sir, that the "We hears" they give us of this &
t'other intended Voyage or Tour of this & t'other great Personage,
were mere Inventions, yet they at least offer us an
innocent Amusement while we read, and useful Matter of
Conversation when we are dispos'd to converse.
Englishmen, Sir, are too apt to be silent when they have
nothing to say; too apt to be sullen when they are silent; and,
when they are sullen, to hang themselves. But, by these We
hears, we are supplied with abundant funds of Discourse, we
discuss the Motives for such Voyages, the Probability of their[316]
being undertaken, and the Practicability of their Execution.
Here we display our Judgment in Politics, our Knowledge of
the Interests of Princes, and our Skill in Geography, and (if we
have it) show our Dexterity moreover in Argumentation. In
the mean time, the tedious Hour is kill'd, we go home pleas'd
with the Applauses we have receiv'd from others, or at least
with those we secretly give to ourselves: We sleep soundly, &
live on, to the Comfort of our Families. But, Sir, I beg leave
to say, that all the Articles of News that seem improbable are
not mere Inventions. Some of them, I can assure you on the
Faith of a Traveller, are serious Truths. And here, quitting Mr.
Spectator of Pimlico, give me leave to instance the various
numberless Accounts the Newswriters have given us, with so
much honest Zeal for the welfare of Poor Old England, of the
establishing Manufactures in the Colonies to the Prejudice of
those of this Kingdom. It is objected by superficial Readers,
who yet pretend to some Knowledge of those Countries, that
such Establishments are not only improbable, but impossible,
for that their Sheep have but little Wooll, not in the whole
sufficient for a Pair of Stockings a Year to each Inhabitant; and
that, from the Universal Dearness of Labour among them, the
Working of Iron and other Materials, except in some few coarse
Instances, is impracticable to any Advantage.
Dear Sir, do not let us suffer ourselves to be amus'd with such
groundless Objections. The very Tails of the American Sheep
are so laden with Wooll, that each has a little Car or Waggon on
four little Wheels, to support & keep it from trailing on the
Ground.[70] Would they caulk their Ships, would they fill their
Beds, would they even litter their Horses with Wooll, if it were
not both plenty and cheap? And what signifies Dearness of
Labour, when an English Shilling passes for five and Twenty?
Their engaging 300 Silk Throwsters here in one Week, for New
York, was treated as a Fable, because, forsooth, they have "no
Silk there to throw." Those, who made this Objection, perhaps
did not know, that at the same time the Agents from the King of
Spain were at Quebec to contract for 1000 Pieces of Cannon to
be made there for the Fortification of Mexico, and at N York[317]
engaging the annual Supply of woven Floor-Carpets for their
West India Houses, other Agents from the Emperor of China
were at Boston treating about an Exchange of raw Silk for
Wooll, to be carried in Chinese Junks through the Straits of
Magellan.
And yet all this is as certainly true, as the Account said to be
from Quebec, in all the Papers of last Week, that the Inhabitants
of Canada are making Preparations for a Cod and Whale
Fishery this "Summer in the upper Lakes." Ignorant People
may object that the upper Lakes are fresh, and that Cod and
Whale are Salt Water Fish: But let them know, Sir, that Cod,
like other Fish when attack'd by their Enemies, fly into any
Water where they can be safest; that Whales, when they have a
mind to eat Cod, pursue them wherever they fly; and that the
grand Leap of the Whale in that Chase up the Fall of Niagara
is esteemed, by all who have seen it, as one of the finest Spectacles
in Nature. Really, Sir, the World is grown too incredulous.
It is like the Pendulum ever swinging from one Extream
to another. Formerly every thing printed was believed, because
it was in print. Now Things seem to be disbelieved for just the
very same Reason. Wise Men wonder at the present Growth
of Infidelity. They should have consider'd, when they taught
People to doubt the Authority of Newspapers and the Truth of
Predictions in Almanacks, that the next Step might be a Disbelief
in the well vouch'd Accts of Ghosts Witches, and
Doubts even of the Truths of the Creed!
Thus much I thought it necessary to say in favour of an
honest Set of Writers, whose comfortable Living depends on
collecting & supplying the Printers with News at the small
Price of Sixpence an Article, and who always show their Regard
to Truth, by contradicting in a subsequent Article such as are
wrong,—for another Sixpence,—to the great Satisfaction &
Improvement of us Coffee-house Students in History & Politics,
and the infinite Advantage of all future Livies, Rapins,
Robertsons, Humes, and McAulays, who may be sincerely
inclin'd to furnish the World with that rara Avis, a true History.
I am, Sir, your humble Servant,
A Traveller.
[318]
TO LORD KAMES
Craven Street, London, June 2, 1765.
My Dear Lord,
... In my passage to America I read your excellent work, the
Elements of Criticism, in which I found great entertainment:
much to admire and nothing to reprove. I only wished you had
examined more fully the subject of Music, and demonstrated,
that the pleasure which artists feel in hearing much of that composed
in the modern taste, is not the natural pleasure arising
from melody or harmony of sounds, but of the same kind with
the pleasure we feel on seeing the surprising feats of tumblers
and rope-dancers, who execute difficult things. For my part I
take this to be really the case, and suppose it is the reason why
those, who being unpractised in music, and therefore unacquainted
with those difficulties have little or no pleasure in
hearing this music. Many pieces of it are mere compositions of
tricks. I have sometimes, at a concert, attended by a common
audience, placed myself so as to see all their faces, and observed
no signs of pleasure in them during the performance of a great
part that was admired by the performers themselves; while a
plain old Scottish tune, which they disdained, and could scarcely
be prevailed on to play, gave manifest and general delight.
Give me leave on this occasion to extend a little the sense of
your position, that "Melody and Harmony are separately agreeable,
and in union delightful," and to give it as my opinion, that
the reason why the Scotch tunes have lived so long, and will
probably live for ever (if they escape being stifled in modern
affected ornament), is merely this, that they are really compositions
of melody and harmony united, or rather that their melody
is harmony. I mean the simple tunes sung by a single voice.
As this will appear paradoxical, I must explain my meaning. In
common acceptation, indeed, only an agreeable succession of
sounds is called Melody, and only the co-existence of agreeing
sounds, Harmony. But, since the memory is capable of retaining
for some moments a perfect idea of the pitch of a past sound,
so as to compare with it the pitch of a succeeding sound, and[319]
judge truly of their agreement or disagreement, there may and
does arise from thence a sense of harmony between the present
and past sounds, equally pleasing with that between two
present sounds.
Now the construction of the old Scotch tunes is this, that
almost every succeeding emphatical note is a third, a fifth, an
octave, or in short some note that is in concord with the preceding
note. Thirds are chiefly used, which are very pleasing concords.
I use the word emphatical to distinguish those notes
which have a stress laid on them in singing the tune, from the
lighter connecting notes, that serve merely, like grammar
articles, to tack the others together.
That we have a most perfect idea of a sound just past, I might
appeal to all acquainted with music, who know how easy it is to
repeat a sound in the same pitch with one just heard. In tuning
an instrument, a good ear can as easily determine that two
strings are in unison by sounding them separately, as by sounding
them together; their disagreement is also as easily, I believe
I may say more easily and better distinguished, when sounded
separately; for when sounded together, though you know by the
beating that one is higher than the other, you cannot tell which
it is. [I have ascribed to memory the ability of comparing the
pitch of a present tone with that of one past. But, if there should
be, as possibly there may be, something in the ear, similar to
what we find in the eye, that ability would not be entirely owing
to memory. Possibly the vibrations given to the auditory
nerves by a particular sound may actually continue some time
after the cause of those vibrations is past, and the agreement
or disagreement of a subsequent sound become by comparison
with them more discernible. For the impression made on the
visual nerves by a luminous object will continue for twenty
or thirty seconds. Sitting in a room, look earnestly at the
middle of a window a little while when the day is bright, and
then shut your eyes; the figure of the window will still remain
in the eye, and so distinct that you may count the panes.
A remarkable circumstance attending this experiment, is, that
the impression of forms is better retained than that of colors;[320]
for after the eyes are shut, when you first discern the image of
the window, the panes appear dark, and the cross bars of the
sashes, with the window frames and walls, appear white or
bright; but, if you still add to the darkness in the eyes by covering
them with your hand, the reverse instantly takes place, the
panes appear luminous and the cross bars dark. And by removing
the hand they are again reversed. This I know not how to
account for. Nor for the following; that, after looking long
through green spectacles, the white paper of a book will on first
taking them off appear to have a blush of red; and, after long
looking through red glasses, a greenish cast; this seems to intimate
a relation between green and red not yet explained.]
Farther, when we consider by whom these ancient tunes
were composed, and how they were first performed, we shall
see that such harmonical succession of sounds was natural and
even necessary in their construction. They were composed by
the minstrels of those days to be played on the harp accompanied
by the voice. The harp was strung with wire, [which
gives a sound of long continuance,] and had no contrivance, like
that in the modern harpsichord, by which the sound of the preceding
could be stoppt, the moment a succeeding note began.
To avoid actual discord, it was therefore necessary that the succeeding
emphatic note should be a chord with the preceding, as
their sounds must exist at the same time. Hence arose that
beauty in those tunes that has so long pleased, and will please
for ever, though men scarce know why. That they were originally
composed for the harp, and of the most simple kind, I
mean a harp without any half notes but those in the natural
scale, and with no more than two octaves of strings, from
C to C, I conjecture from another circumstance, which is, that
not one of those tunes, really ancient, has a single artificial half
note in it, and that in tunes where it was most convenient for
the voice to use the middle notes of the harp, and place the
key in F, there the B, which if used should be a B flat, is
always omitted by passing over it with a third. The connoisseurs
in modern music will say, I have no taste; but I cannot
help adding, that I believe our ancestors, in hearing a good song,[321]
distinctly articulated, sung to one of those tunes, and accompanied
by the harp, felt more real pleasure than is communicated
by the generality of modern operas, exclusive of that
arising from the scenery and dancing. Most tunes of late composition,
not having this natural harmony united with their
melody, have recourse to the artificial harmony of a bass, and
other accompanying parts. This support, in my opinion, the
old tunes do not need, and are rather confused than aided by it.
Whoever has heard James Oswald play them on his violoncello,
will be less inclined to dispute this with me. I have more than
once seen tears of pleasure in the eyes of his auditors; and yet,
I think, even his playing those tunes would please more, if he
gave them less modern ornament. My son, when we parted,
desired me to present his Affectionate respects to you, Lady
Kames, and your amiable children: be so good with those, to
accept mine, and believe me, with sincerest esteem, my dear
Lord, &c.
B. Franklin.
P.S. I do promise myself the pleasure of seeing you and my
other friends in Scotland, before I return to America.
LETTER
CONCERNING THE GRATITUDE OF AMERICA[71]
AND THE PROBABILITY AND EFFECTS OF A UNION WITH GREAT
BRITAIN; AND CONCERNING THE REPEAL OR SUSPENSION
OF THE STAMP ACT
[London,] January 6, 1766.
Sir,
I have attentively perused the paper you sent me, and am of
opinion, that the measure it proposes, of an union with the
colonies, is a wise one; but I doubt it will hardly be thought so
here, till it is too late to attempt it. The time has been, when
the colonies would have esteemed it a great advantage, as well
as honour to be permitted to send members to Parliament; and
would have asked for that privilege, if they could have had the[322]
least hopes of obtaining it. The time is now come when they
are indifferent about it, and will probably not ask it, though they
might accept it if offered them; and the time will come, when they
will certainly refuse it. But if such an union were now established
(which methinks it highly imports this country to establish)
it would probably subsist as long as Britain shall continue
a nation. This people, however, is too proud, and too much
despises the Americans, to bear the thought of admitting them
to such an equitable participation in the government of the
whole.
Then the next best thing seems to be, leaving them in the
quiet enjoyment of their respective constitutions; and when
money is wanted for any public service, in which they ought
to bear a part, calling upon them by requisitorial letters from
the crown (according to the long-established custom) to grant
such aids as their loyalty shall dictate, and their abilities permit.
The very sensible and benevolent author of that paper seems
not to have known, that such a constitutional custom subsists,
and has always hitherto been practised in America; or he would
not have expressed himself in this manner; "It is evident,
beyond a doubt, to the intelligent and impartial, that after the
very extraordinary efforts, which were effectually made by Great
Britain in the late war to save the colonists from destruction,
and attended of necessity with an enormous load of debts in
consequence, that the same colonists, now firmly secured from
foreign enemies, should be somehow induced to contribute
some proportion towards the exigencies of state in future."
This looks as if he conceived the war had been carried on at
the sole expense of Great Britain, and the colonies only reaped
the benefit, without hitherto sharing the burden, and were
therefore now indebted to Britain on that account. And this is
the same kind of argument that is used by those, who would fix
on the colonies the heavy charge of unreasonableness and ingratitude,
which I think your friend did not intend.
Please to acquaint him, then, that the fact is not so; that, every
year during the war, requisitions were made by the crown on
the colonies for raising money and men; that accordingly they[323]
made more extraordinary efforts, in proportion to their abilities,
than Britain did; that they raised, paid, and clothed, for
five or six years, near twenty-five thousand men, besides providing
for other services, as building forts, equipping guardships,
paying transports, &c. And that this was more than their
fair proportion is not merely an opinion of mine, but was the
judgment of government here, in full knowledge of all the
facts; for the then ministry, to make the burthen more equal,
recommended the case to Parliament, and obtained a reimbursement
to the Americans of about two hundred thousand
pounds sterling every year; which amounted only to about two
fifths of their expense; and great part of the rest lies still a load
of debt upon them; heavy taxes on all their estates, real and
personal, being laid by acts of their assemblies to discharge it,
and yet will not discharge it in many years.
While, then, these burdens continue; while Britain restrains
the colonies in every branch of commerce and manufactures
that she thinks interferes with her own; while she drains the
colonies, by her trade with them, of all the cash they can procure
by every art and industry in any part of the world, and thus
keeps them always in her debt; (for they can make no law to
discourage the importation of your to them ruinous superfluities,
as you do the superfluities of France; since such a law
would immediately be reported against by your Board of
Trade, and repealed by the crown;) I say, while these circumstances
continue, and while there subsists the established
method of royal requisitions for raising money on them by
their own assemblies on every proper occasion; can it be necessary
or prudent to distress and vex them by taxes laid here, in
a Parliament wherein they have no representative, and in a
manner which they look upon to be unconstitutional and subversive
of their most valuable rights? And are they to be
thought unreasonable and ungrateful if they oppose such taxes?
Wherewith, they say, shall we show our loyalty to our
gracious King, if our money is to be given by others, without
asking our consent? And, if the Parliament has a right thus to
take from us a penny in the pound, where is the line drawn[324]
that bounds that right, and what shall hinder their calling,
whenever they please, for the other nineteen shillings and
eleven pence? Have we then any thing that we can call our own?
It is more than probable, that bringing representatives from the
colonies to sit and act here as members of Parliament, thus
uniting and consolidating your dominions, would in a little
time remove these objections and difficulties, and make the
future government of the colonies easy; but, till some such
thing is done, I apprehend no taxes, laid there by Parliament
here, will ever be collected, but such as must be stained with
blood; and I am sure the profit of such taxes will never answer
the expense of collecting them, and that the respect and affection
of the Americans to this country will in the struggle be totally
lost, perhaps never to be recovered; and therewith all the commercial
and political advantages, that might have attended the
continuance of this respect and this affection.
In my own private judgment, I think an immediate repeal of
the Stamp Act would be the best measure for this country; but
a suspension of it for three years, the best for that. The repeal
would fill them with joy and gratitude, reëstablish their respect
and veneration for Parliament, restore at once their ancient and
natural love for this country, and their regard for every thing
that comes from it; hence the trade would be renewed in all its
branches; they would again indulge in all the expensive superfluities
you supply them with, and their own new-assumed
home industry would languish. But the suspension, though it
might continue their fears and anxieties, would at the same time
keep up their resolutions of industry and frugality; which in two
or three years would grow into habits, to their lasting advantage.
However, as the repeal will probably not be now agreed
to, from what I think a mistaken opinion, that the honour and
dignity of government is better supported by persisting in a
wrong measure once entered into, than by rectifying an error
as soon as it is discovered; we must allow the next best thing
for the advantage of both countries, is the suspension; for,
as to executing the act by force, it is madness, and will be ruin
to the whole.[325]
The rest of your friend's reasonings and propositions appear
to me truly just and judicious. I will therefore only add, that
I am as desirous of his acquaintance and intimacy, as he was of
my opinion.
I am, with much esteem,
Your obliged friend,
B. Franklin.
TO LORD KAMES
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 her
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 it, being called before the House of Commons,
I spoke my mind pretty freely. Inclosed 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 expence of it.
I send it you now, because I apprehend some late incidents
are likely to revive the contest between the two countries.
I fear it will be a mischievous one. It becomes a matter of great[326]
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 expence 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[327]
to raise the money. The Pennsylvanian Assembly has made such
a law: the 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 fixt as at
present, in the province; the burthen 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 Legislature 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 mere requisition, which they
are at liberty to comply with or not, as it may suit or not suit
the different circumstances of 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 perplext,[328]
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 expence of Parliament, and that therefore
the Parliament has a right to tax them, &c. The truth is, they
were planted at the expence 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 expence.
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 confirm or annul
them: Suits arising in the Colonies, and differences 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[329]
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 constantly 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 reasons 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 that 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, soil, great navigable rivers, and 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 on 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 kind usage, and tenderness for their
privileges, they might be easily governed still for ages, without
force, or any considerable expence. But I do not see here a sufficient[330]
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 any thing 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; 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 kind 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, my
dear friend, yours ever,[72]
B. Franklin.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON
Paris, Sept. 14, 1767.
Dear Polly,
I am always pleas'd with a Letter from you, and I flatter myself
you may be sometimes pleas'd in receiving one from me,
tho' it should be of little Importance, such as this, which is to
consist of a few occasional Remarks made here, and in my
Journey hither.
Soon after I left you in that agreable Society at Bromley, I
took the Resolution of making a Trip with Sir John Pringle[73]
into France. We set out the 28th past. All the way to Dover
we were furnished with PostChaises, hung so as to lean forward,
the Top coming down over one's Eyes, like a Hood, as if
to prevent one's seeing the Country; which being one of my
great Pleasures, I was engag'd in perpetual Disputes with the
Innkeepers, Hostlers, and Postilions, about getting the Straps
taken up a Hole or two before, and let down as much behind,[331]
they insisting that the Chaise leaning forward was an Ease to the
Horses, and that the contrary would kill them. I suppose the
chaise leaning forward looks to them like a Willingness to go
forward, and that its hanging back shows a Reluctance. They
added other Reasons, that were no Reasons at all, and made me,
as upon a 100 other Occasions, almost wish that Mankind had
never been endow'd with a reasoning Faculty, since they know
so little how to make use of it, and so often mislead themselves
by it, and that they had been furnish'd with a good sensible
Instinct instead of it.
At Dover, the next Morning, we embark'd for Calais with a
Number of Passengers, who had never been before at sea.
They would previously make a hearty Breakfast, because, if the
Wind should fail, we might not get over till Supper time.
Doubtless they thought that when they had paid for their
Breakfast, they had a Right to it, and that, when they had swallowed
it they were sure of it. But they had scarce been out half
an Hour, before the Sea laid Claim to it, and they were oblig'd
to deliver it up. So it seems there are Uncertainties, even beyond
those between the Cup and the Lip. If ever you go to Sea,
take my Advice, and live sparingly a Day or two beforehand.
The Sickness, if any, will be lighter and sooner over. We got to
Calais that Evening.
Various Impositions we suffer'd from Boatmen, Porters, &c.
on both Sides the Water. I know not which are most rapacious,
the English or French, but the latter have, with their Knavery,
the most Politeness.
The Roads we found equally good with ours in England, in
some Places pav'd with smooth Stone, like our new Streets, for
many Miles together, and Rows of Trees on each Side, and
yet there are no Turnpikes. But then the poor Peasants complain'd
to us grievously, that they were oblig'd to work upon
the Roads full two Months in the Year, without being paid for
their Labour. Whether this is Truth, or whether, like Englishmen,
they grumble Cause or no Cause, I have not yet been able
fully to inform myself.
The Women we saw at Calais, on the Road, at Bouloigne,[332]
and in the Inns and Villages, were generally of dark Complexions;
but arriving at Abbeville we found a sudden Change, a
Multitude of both Women and Men in that Place appearing remarkably
fair. Whether this is owing to a small Colony of
Spinners, Wool-combers, and Weavers, brought hither from
Holland with the Woollen Manufacture about 60 Years ago; or
to their being less expos'd to the Sun, than in other Places, their
Business keeping them much within Doors, I know not. Perhaps
as in some other Cases, different Causes may club in producing
the Effect, but the Effect itself is certain. Never was I in
a Place of greater Industry, Wheels and Looms going in every
House.
As soon as we left Abbeville, the Swarthiness return'd. I
speak generally, for here are some fair Women at Paris, who I
think are not whiten'd by Art. As to Rouge, they don't pretend
to imitate Nature in laying it on. There is no gradual Diminution
of the Colour, from the full Bloom in the Middle of the
Cheek to the faint Tint near the Sides, nor does it show itself
differently in different Faces. I have not had the Honour of
being at any Lady's Toylette to see how it is laid on, but I fancy
I can tell you how it is or may be done. Cut a Hole of 3 Inches
Diameter in a Piece of Paper; place it on the Side of your Face in
such a Manner as that the Top of the Hole may be just under
your Eye; then with a Brush dipt in the Colour, paint Face and
Paper together; so when the Paper is taken off there will remain
a round Patch of Red exactly the Form of the Hole. This is the
Mode, from the Actresses on the Stage upwards thro' all Ranks
of Ladies to the Princesses of the Blood, but it stops there, the
Queen not using it, having in the Serenity, Complacence, and
Benignity that shine so eminently in, or rather through her
Countenance, sufficient Beauty, tho' now an old Woman, to do
extreamly well without it.
You see I speak of the Queen as if I had seen her, and so I
have; for you must know I have been at Court. We went to
Versailles last Sunday, and had the Honour of being presented
to the King; he spoke to both of us very graciously and chearfully,
is a handsome Man, has a very lively Look, and appears[333]
younger than he is. In the Evening we were at the Grand Couvert,
where the Family sup in Publick. The Form of their Sitting
at the Table was this: The table was as you see half a Hollow
Square, the Service Gold. When either made a Sign for
Drink, the Word was given by one of the Waiters; A boire pour
le Roy, or, A boire pour la Reine. Then two persons within the
Square approach'd, one with Wine[,] the other with Water in
Caraffes; each drank a little Glass of what he brought, and then
put both the Caraffes with a Glass on a Salver, and presented it.
Their Distance from each other was such, as that other Chairs
might have been plac'd between any two of them. An Officer
of the Court brought us up thro' the Crowd of Spectators, and
plac'd Sir John so as to stand between the King and Madame
Adelaide, and me between the Queen and Madame Victoire.
The King talk'd a good deal to Sir John, asking many Questions
about our Royal Family; and did me too the Honour of taking
some Notice of me; that's saying enough, for I would not have
you think me so much pleas'd with this King and Queen, as to
have a Whit less regard than I us'd to have for ours. No
Frenchman shall go beyond me in thinking my own King and
Queen the very best in the World, and the most amiable.
Versailles has had infinite Sums laid out in building it and
supplying it with Water. Some say the Expences exceeded 80
Millions Sterling. The Range of Building is immense; the Garden-Front[334]
most magnificent, all of hewn Stone; the Number of
Statues, Figures, Urns, &c., in Marble and Bronze of exquisite
Workmanship, is beyond Conception. But the Waterworks are
out of Repair, and so is great Part of the Front next the Town,
looking with its shabby half-Brick Walls, and broken Windows,
not much better than the Houses in Durham Yard. There is,
in short, both at Versailles and Paris, a prodigious Mixture of
Magnificence and Negligence, with every kind of Elegance except
that of Cleanliness, and what we call Tidyness. Tho' I
must do Paris the Justice to say, that in two Points of Cleanliness
they exceed us. The Water they drink, tho' from the River,
they render as pure as that of the best Spring, by filtring it thro'
Cisterns fill'd with Sand; and the Streets by constant Sweeping
are fit to walk in, tho' there is no pav'd footPath. Accordingly,
many well-dress'd People are constantly seen walking in them.
The Crowds of Coaches and Chairs for this Reason is not so
great. Men, as well as Women, carry Umbrellas in their Hands,
which they extend in case of Rain or two [sic] much sun; and a
Man with an Umbrella not taking up more than 3 foot square,
or 9 square feet of the Street, when, if in a Coach, he would
take up 240 square feet, you can easily conceive that tho' the
Streets here are narrower they may be much less encumber'd.
They are extreamly well pav'd, and the Stones, being generally
Cubes, when worn on one Side, may be turn'd and become
new.
The Civilities we everywhere receive give us the strongest
Impressions of the French Politeness. It seems to be a Point
settled here universally, that Strangers are to be treated with
Respect; and one has just the same Deference shewn one here
by being a Stranger, as in England by being a Lady. The Customhouse
Officers at Port St. Denis, as we enter'd Paris, were
about to seize 2 doz of excellent Bordeaux Wine given us at
Boulogne, and which we brought with us; but, as soon as they
found we were Strangers, it was immediately remitted on that
Account. At the Church of Notre Dame, where we went to see
a magnificent Illumination, with Figures, &c., for the deceas'd
Dauphiness, we found an immense Crowd, who were kept out[335]
by Guards; but, the Officer being told that we were Strangers
from England, he immediately admitted us, accompanied and
show'd us every thing. Why don't we practise this Urbanity
to Frenchmen? Why should they be allowed to outdo us in
any thing?
Here is an Exhibition of Paintings like ours in London, to
which Multitudes flock daily. I am not Connoisseur enough to
judge which has most Merit. Every Night, Sundays not excepted
here are Plays or Operas; and tho' the Weather has been
hot, and the Houses full, one is not incommoded by the Heat
so much as with us in Winter. They must have some Way of
changing the Air, that we are not acquainted with. I shall enquire
into it.
Travelling is one Way of lengthening Life, at least in Appearance.
It is but about a Fortnight since we left London, but the
Variety of Scenes we have gone through makes it seem equal to
Six Months living in one Place. Perhaps I have suffered a
greater Change, too, in my own Person, than I could have done
in Six Years at home. I had not been here Six Days, before my
Taylor and Perruquier had transform'd me into a Frenchman.
Only think what a Figure I make in a little Bag-Wig and naked
Ears! They told me I was become 20 Years younger, and look'd
very galante;
So being in Paris where the Mode is to be sacredly follow'd
I was once very near making Love to my Friend's Wife.
This Letter shall cost you a Shilling, and you may consider it
cheap, when you reflect, that it has cost me at least 50 Guineas
to get into the Situation, that enables me to write it. Besides, I
might, if I had staied at home, have won perhaps two Shillings
of you at Cribbidge. By the Way, now I mention Cards, let me
tell you that Quadrille is quite out of Fashion here, and English
Whisk all the Mode at Paris and the Court.
And pray look upon it as no small Matter, that surrounded as
I am by the Glories of this World, and Amusements of all Sorts,
I remember you and Dolly and all the dear good Folks at
Bromley. 'Tis true, I can't help it, but must and ever shall remember
you all with Pleasure.[336]
Need I add, that I am particularly, my dear good Friend,
yours most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
ON THE LABOURING POOR
[From the Gentleman's Magazine, April, 1768.]
Sir,
I have met with much invective in the papers, for these two
years past, against the hard-heartedness of the rich, and much
complaint of the great oppressions suffered in this country by
the labouring poor. Will you admit a word or two on the other
side of the question? I do not propose to be an advocate for
oppression or oppressors. But when I see that the poor are, by
such writings, exasperated against the rich, and excited to insurrections,
by which much mischief is done, and some forfeit their
lives, I could wish the true state of things were better understood,
the poor not made by these busy writers more uneasy
and unhappy than their situation subjects them to be, and the
nation not brought into disrepute among foreigners, by public
groundless accusations of ourselves, as if the rich in England
had no compassion for the poor, and Englishmen wanted common
humanity.
In justice, then to this country, give me leave to remark, that
the condition of the poor here is, by far, the best in Europe, for
that, except in England and her American colonies, there is not
in any country of the known world, not even in Scotland or
Ireland, a provision by law to enforce a support of the poor.
Everywhere else necessity reduces to beggary. This law was
not made by the poor. The legislators were men of fortune.
By that act they voluntarily subjected their own estates, and the
estates of all others, to the payment of a tax for the maintenance
of the poor, incumbering those estates with a kind of rent-charge
for that purpose, whereby the poor are vested with an
inheritance, as it were, in all the estates of the rich. I wish they
were benefited by this generous provision in any degree equal
to the good intention, with which it was made, and is continued:[337]
But I fear the giving mankind a dependance on any thing for
support, in age or sickness, besides industry and frugality during
youth and health, tends to flatter our natural indolence, to encourage
idleness and prodigality, and thereby to promote and
increase poverty, the very evil it was intended to cure; thus
multiplying beggars instead of diminishing them.
Besides this tax, which the rich in England have subjected
themselves to, in behalf of the poor, amounting in some places
to five or six shillings in the pound, of the annual income, they
have, by donations and subscriptions, erected numerous schools
in various parts of the kingdom, for educating gratis the children
of the poor in reading and writing, and in many of those schools
the children are also fed and cloathed. They have erected hospitals
at an immense expence for the reception and cure of the
sick, the lame, the wounded, and the insane poor, for lying-in
women, and deserted children. They are also continually contributing
towards making up losses occasioned by fire, by
storms, or by floods, and to relieve the poor in severe seasons
of frost, in times of scarcity, &c., in which benevolent and
charitable contributions no nation exceeds us. Surely, there is
some gratitude due for so many instances of goodness.
Add to this all the laws made to discourage foreign manufactures,
by laying heavy duties on them, or totally prohibiting
them, whereby the rich are obliged to pay much higher prices
for what they wear and consume, than if the trade was open:
These are so many laws for the support of our labouring poor,
made by the rich, and continued at their expence; all the difference
of price, between our own and foreign commodities, being
so much given by our rich to our poor; who would indeed be
enabled by it to get by degrees above poverty, if they did not,
as too generally they do, consider every encrease of wages, only
as something that enables them to drink more and work less;
so that their distress in sickness, age, or times of scarcity, continues
to be the same as if such laws had never been made in
their favour.
Much malignant censure have some writers bestowed upon
the rich for their luxury and expensive living, while the poor[338]
are starving, &c.; not considering that what the rich expend,
the labouring poor receive in payment for their labour. It may
seem a paradox if I should assert, that our labouring poor do in
every year receive the whole revenue of the nation; I mean not
only the public revenue, but also the revenue or clear income
of all private estates, or a sum equivalent to the whole.
In support of this position I reason thus. The rich do not
work for one another. Their habitations, furniture, cloathing,
carriages, food, ornaments, and every thing in short, that they
or their families use and consume, is the work or produce of the
labouring poor, who are, and must be continually, paid for
their labour in producing the same. In these payments the
revenues of private estates are expended, for most people live
up to their incomes. In cloathing or provision for troops, in
arms, ammunition, ships, tents, carriages, &c., &c., (every particular
the produce of labour,) much of the public revenue is
expended. The pay of officers, civil and military, and of the
private soldiers and sailors, requires the rest; and they spend
that also in paying for what is produced by the labouring poor.
I allow that some estates may increase by the owners spending
less than their income; but then I conceive that other estates do
at the same time diminish by the owners spending more than
their income, so that when the enriched want to buy more land,
they easily find lands in the hands of the impoverished, whose
necessities oblige them to sell; and thus this difference is equalled.
I allow also, that part of the expence of the rich is in foreign produce
or manufactures, for producing which the labouring poor
of other nations must be paid; but then I say, we must first pay
our own labouring poor for an equal quantity of our manufactures
or produce, to exchange for those foreign productions, or
we must pay for them in money, which money, not being the
natural produce of our country, must first be purchased from
abroad, by sending out its value in the produce or manufactures
of this country, for which manufactures our labouring poor are
to be paid. And indeed, if we did not export more than we import,
we could have no money at all. I allow farther, that there
are middle men, who make a profit, and even get estates, by[339]
purchasing the labour of the poor, and selling it at advanced
prices to the rich; but then they cannot enjoy that profit, or the
income of estates, but by spending them in employing and paying
our labouring poor, in some shape or other, for the products
of industry. Even beggars, pensioners, hospitals, and all that
are supported by charity, spend their incomes in the same manner.
So that finally, as I said at first, our labouring poor receive
annually the whole of the clear revenues of the nation, and from us
they can have no more.
If it be said that their wages are too low, and that they ought
to be better paid for their labour, I heartily wish any means
could be fallen upon to do it, consistent with their interest and
happiness; but, as the cheapness of other things is owing to the
plenty of those things, so the cheapness of labour is in most
cases owing to the multitude of labourers, and to their under-working
one another in order to obtain employment. How is
this to be remedied? A law might be made to raise their wages;
but, if our manufactures are too dear, they will not vend abroad,
and all that part of employment will fail, unless by fighting and
conquering we compel other nations to buy our goods, whether
they will or no, which some have been mad enough at times to
propose.
Among ourselves, unless we give our working people less
employment, how can we, for what they do, pay them higher
than we do? Out of what fund is the additional price of labour
to be paid, when all our present incomes are, as it were, mortgaged
to them? Should they get higher wages, would that make
them less poor, if, in consequence, they worked fewer days of
the week proportionably? I have said, a law might be made to
raise their wages; but I doubt much whether it could be executed
to any purpose, unless another law, now indeed almost obsolete,
could at the same time be revived and enforced; a law, I
mean, that many have often heard and repeated, but few have
ever duly considered. Six days shalt thou labour. This is as
positive a part of the commandment, as that which says, The
SEVENTH day thou shalt rest. But we remember well to observe
the indulgent part, and never think of the other. Saint[340]
Monday is generally as duly kept by our working people as
Sunday; the only difference is, that, instead of employing their
time cheaply at church, they are wasting it expensively at the
alehouse.
I am, Sir, &c.
Medius.
TO DUPONT DE NEMOURS[74]
London, July 28, 1768.
I received your obliging letter of the 10th May, with the most
acceptable present of your Physiocratie, which I have read with
great pleasure, and received from it a great deal of instruction.
There is such a freedom from local and national prejudices and
partialities, so much benevolence to mankind in general, so
much goodness mixt with the wisdom, in the principles of your
new philosophy, that I am perfectly charmed with them, and
wish I could have stayed in France for some time, to have
studied in your school, that I might by conversing with its
founders have made myself quite a master of that philosophy....
I had, before I went into your country, seen some letters
of yours to Dr. Templeman, that gave me a high opinion of the
doctrines you are engaged in cultivating and of your personal
talents and abilities, which made me greatly desirous of seeing
you. Since I had not that good fortune, the next best thing is
the advantage you are so good to offer me of your correspondence,
which I shall ever highly value, and endeavour to cultivate
with all the diligence I am capable of.
I am sorry to find that that wisdom which sees the welfare of
the parts in the prosperity of the whole, seems yet not to be
known in this country.... We are so far from conceiving that
what is best for mankind, or even for Europe in general, may be
best for us, that we are even studying to establish and extend a
separate interest of Britain, to the prejudice of even Ireland and
our colonies.... It is from your philosophy only that the
maxims of a contrary and more happy conduct are to be drawn,
which I therefore sincerely wish may grow and increase till it
becomes the governing philosophy of the human species, as it[341]
must be that of superior beings in better worlds. I will take the
liberty of sending you a little fragment that has some tincture
of it, which, on that account, I hope may be acceptable.
Be so good as to present my sincere respect to that venerable
apostle, Dr. Quesnay, and to the illustrious Ami des Hommes
(of whose civilities to me at Paris I retain a grateful remembrance),
and believe me to be, with real and very great esteem
Sir,
Your obliged and most obedient humble servant
B. Franklin.
TO JOHN ALLEYNE[75]
Craven Street, [August 9, 1768].
Dear Sir
You made an Apology to me for not acquaintg me sooner
with your Marriage. I ought now to make an Apology to you
for delaying so long the Answer to your Letter. It was mislaid
or hid among my Papers and much Business put it out of my
Mind, or prevented my looking for it and writing when I
thought of it. So this Account between us if you please may
stand balanced. I assure you it gave me great Pleasure to hear
you were married, and into a Family of Reputation. This I learnt
from the Public Papers. The Character you give me of your
Bride (as it includes every Qualification that in the married
State conduces to mutual Happiness) is an Addition to that
Pleasure. Had you consulted me, as a Friend, on the Occasion,
Youth on both sides I should not have thought any Objection.
Indeed, from the matches that have fallen under my Observation,
I am rather inclin'd to think, that early ones stand the best
Chance for Happiness. The Tempers and habits of young
People 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, that is necessary to conduct a Family,
yet the Parents and elder Friends of young married Persons are
generally at hand to afford their Advice, which amply supplies[342]
that Defect; and, by early Marriage, Youth is sooner form'd to
regular and useful Life; and possibly some of those Accidents,
Habits or Connections, that might have injured either the Constitution,
or the 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 render'd our Bodies fit for it, the
Presumption is in Nature's Favour, that she has not judg'd
amiss in making us desire it. Late Marriages are often attended,
too, with this further Inconvenience, that there is not the same
Chance 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 chearful Leisure to ourselves; such as
your Friend at present enjoys. By these early Marriages we
are blest with more Children; and from the Mode among us,
founded in Nature, of every Mother suckling and nursing her
own Child, more of them are raised. Thence the swift Progress
of Population among us, unparallel'd in Europe.
In fine, I am glad you are married, and congratulate you most
cordially upon it. You are now more in the way of becoming
a useful Citizen; and you have escap'd the unnatural State of
Celibacy for Life, the Fate of many here, who never intended
it, but who, having too long postpon'd the Change of their
Condition, find at length, that 'tis 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 you know is not
worth its proportion of the Set, and what think you of the Usefulness
of an odd Half of a Pair of Scissors? It cannot well cut
any thing. It may possibly serve to scrape a Trencher.
Pray make my Compliments and best Wishes acceptable to
your Spouse. I am old and heavy and grow a little indolent, or
I should ere this have presented them in Person. I shall make[343]
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 from her only 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.
TO THE PRINTER OF THE LONDON
CHRONICLE[76]
August 18, 1768.
Queries, recommended to the Consideration of those Gentlemen
who are for vigorous measures with the Americans.
1. Have the Colonists refused to answer any reasonable requisitions
made to their Assemblies by the mother country?
2. If they have not refused to grant reasonable aids in the way,
which they think consistent with liberty, why must they be
stripped of their property without their own consent, and in a
way, which they think inconsistent with liberty?
3. What is it for a people to be enslaved and tributary, if this
be not, viz. to be forced to give up their property at the arbitrary
pleasure of persons, to whose authority they have not submitted
themselves, nor chosen for the purpose of imposing taxes upon
them? Wherein consisted the impropriety of King Charles's
demanding ship money by his sole authority, but in its being an
exercise of power by the King, which the people had not given
the King? Have the people of America, as the people of Britain,
by sending representatives, consented to a power in the British
parliament to tax them?
4. Has not the British parliament, by repealing the stamp act,[344]
acknowledged that they judged it improper? Is there any difference
between the stamp act, and the act obliging the Americans
to pay whatever we please, for articles which they cannot do without,
as glass and paper? Is there any difference as to justice between
our treatment of the colonists, and the tyranny of the
Carthaginians over their conquered Sardinians, when they
obliged them to take all their corn from them, and at whatever
price they pleased to set upon it?
5. If that be true, what is commonly said, viz. That the
mother country gains two millions a year by the colonies, would
it not have been wiser to have gone on quietly in the happy way
we were in, till our gains by those rising and flourishing countries
should amount to three, four or five millions a year, than
by these new fashioned vigorous measures to kill the goose
which lays the golden eggs? Would it not have been better
policy, instead of taxing our colonists, to have done whatever
we could to enrich them; and encourage them to take off our
articles of luxury, on which we may put our own price, and
thus draw them into paying us a voluntary tax; than deluge them
in blood, thin their countries, impoverish and distress them,
interrupt their commerce, force them on bankruptcy, by which
our merchants must be ruined, or tempt them to emigrations,
or alliances with our enemies?
6. The late war could not have been carried on without
America, nor without Scotland? Have we treated America and
Scotland in such a manner as is likely in future wars to encourage
their zeal for the common cause? Or is England alone to be
the Drawcansir of the world, and to bully not only their enemies,
but her friends?
7. Are not the subjects of Britain concerned to check a ministry,
who, by this rage of heaping taxes on taxes, are only
drawing into their own hands more and more wealth and
power, while they are hurting the commercial interest of the
empire in general, at the same time that, amidst profound peace,
the national debt and burden on the public continue undiminished?
N. M. C. N. P. C. H.
[345]
POSITIONS TO BE EXAMINED, CONCERNING
NATIONAL WEALTH
Dated April 4, 1769.
1. All food or subsistence for mankind arises from the earth
or waters.
2. Necessaries of life, that are not food, and all other conveniences,
have their values estimated by the proportion of food
consumed while we are employed in procuring them.
3. A small people, with a large territory, may subsist on the
productions of nature, with no other labour than that of gathering
the vegetables and catching the animals.
4. A large people, with a small territory, finds these insufficient,
and, to subsist, must labour the earth, to make it produce
greater quantities of vegetable food, suitable for the nourishment
of men, and of the animals they intend to eat.
5. From this labour arises a great increase of vegetable and
animal food, and of materials for clothing, as flax, wool, silk,
&c. The superfluity of these is wealth. With this wealth we
pay for the labour employed in building our houses, cities, &c.,
which are therefore only subsistence thus metamorphosed.
6. Manufactures are only another shape into which so much
provisions and subsistence are turned, as were equal in value to
the manufactures produced. This appears from hence, that the
manufacturer does not, in fact, obtain from the employer, for
his labour, more than a mere subsistence, including raiment,
fuel, and shelter; all which derive their value from the provisions
consumed in procuring them.
7. The produce of the earth, thus converted into manufactures,
may be more easily carried to distant markets than before
such conversion.
8. Fair commerce is, where equal values are exchanged for
equal, the expense of transport included. Thus, if it costs A in
England as much labour and charge to raise a bushel of wheat,
as it costs B in France to produce four gallons of wine, then are
four gallons of wine the fair exchange for a bushel of wheat,[346]
A and B meeting at half distance with their commodities to
make the exchange. The advantage of this fair commerce is,
that each party increases the number of his enjoyments, having,
instead of wheat alone, or wine alone, the use of both wheat and
wine.
9. Where the labour and expense of producing both commodities
are known to both parties, bargains will generally be
fair and equal. Where they are known to one party only, bargains
will often be unequal, knowledge taking its advantage of
ignorance.
10. Thus, he that carries one thousand bushels of wheat
abroad to sell, may not probably obtain so great a profit thereon,
as if he had first turned the wheat into manufactures, by subsisting
therewith the workmen while producing those manufactures;
since there are many expediting and facilitating methods
of working, not generally known; and strangers to the
manufactures, though they know pretty well the expense of
raising wheat, are unacquainted with those short methods of
working, and, thence being apt to suppose more labour employed
in the manufactures than there really is, are more easily
imposed on in their value, and induced to allow more for them
than they are honestly worth.
11. Thus the advantage of having manufactures in a country
does not consist, as is commonly supposed, in their highly advancing
the value of rough materials, of which they are formed;
since, though six pennyworth of flax may be worth twenty
shillings, when worked into lace, yet the very cause of its being
worth twenty shillings is, that, besides the flax, it has cost nineteen
shillings and sixpence in subsistence to the manufacturer.
But the advantage of manufactures is, that under their shape
provisions may be more easily carried to a foreign market; and,
by their means, our traders may more easily cheat strangers.
Few, where it is not made, are judges of the value of lace. The
importer may demand forty, and perhaps get thirty, shillings
for that which cost him but twenty.
12. Finally, there seem to be but three ways for a nation to
acquire wealth. The first is by war, as the Romans did, in[347]
plundering their conquered neighbours. This is robbery. The
second by commerce, which is generally cheating. The third by
agriculture, the only honest way, wherein man receives a real
increase of the seed thrown into the ground, in a kind of continual
miracle, wrought by the hand of God in his favour, as a
reward for his innocent life and his virtuous industry.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON
Saturday Evening, Septr 2, 1769.
Just come home from a Venison Feast, where I have drank
more than a Philosopher ought, I find my dear Polly's chearful,
chatty Letter that exhilerates me more than all the Wine.
Your good Mother says there is no Occasion for any Intercession
of mine in your behalf. She is sensible that she is more
in fault than her Daughter. She received an affectionate, tender
Letter from you, and she has not answered it, tho' she intended
to do it; but her Head, not her Heart, has been bad, and unfitted
her for Writing. She owns, that she is not so good a Subject as
you are, and that she is more unwilling to pay Tribute to Cesar,
and has less Objection to Smuggling; but 'tis not, she says, mere
Selfishness or Avarice; 'tis rather an honest Resentment at the
Waste of those Taxes in Pensions, Salaries, Perquisites, Contracts,
and other Emoluments for the Benefit of People she does
not love, and who do not deserve such Advantages, because—I
suppose—because they are not of her Party.
Present my Respects to your good Landlord and his Family.
I honour them for their conscientious Aversion to illicit Trading.
There are those in the World, who would not wrong a
Neighbour, but make no Scruple of cheating the King. The
Reverse, however, does not hold; for whoever scruples cheating
the King, will certainly not wrong his Neighbour.
You ought not to wish yourself an Enthusiast. They have,
indeed, their imaginary Satisfactions and Pleasures, but these
are often ballanc'd by imaginary Pains and Mortifications. You
can continue to be a good Girl, and thereby lay a solid Foundation[348]
for expected future Happiness, without the Enthusiasm
that may perhaps be necessary to some others. As those Beings,
who have a good sensible Instinct, have no need of Reason, so
those, who have Reason to regulate their Actions, have no
Occasion for Enthusiasm. However, there are certain Circumstances
in Life, sometimes, wherein 'tis perhaps best not to
hearken to Reason. For instance; possibly, if the Truth were
known, I have Reason to be jealous of this same insinuating,
handsome young Physician;[77] but, as it flatters more my Vanity,
and therefore gives me more Pleasure, to suppose you were in
Spirits on acct of my safe Return, I shall turn a deaf Ear to
Reason in this Case, as I have done with Success in twenty
others. But I am sure you will always give me Reason enough
to continue ever your affectionate Friend,
B. Franklin.
P.S. Our Love to Mrs. Tickell. We all long for your Return.
Your Dolly was well last Tuesday; the Girls were there
on a Visit to her; I mean at Bromley. Adieu. No time now to
give you any acct of my French Journey.
TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
London, Sept. 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, advise 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[349]
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 Ballance 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, tho' 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.
TO MISS GEORGIANA SHIPLEY[78]
London, September 26, 1772.
Dear Miss,
I lament with you most sincerely the unfortunate end of poor
Mungo. Few squirrels were better accomplished; for he had had
a good education, had travelled far, and seen much of the world.
As he had the honour of being, for his virtues, your favourite,
he should not go, like common skuggs, without an elegy or an
epitaph. Let us give him one in the monumental style and
measure, which, being neither prose nor verse, is perhaps the
properest for grief; since to use common language would look
as if we were not affected, and to make rhymes would seem
trifling in sorrow.[350]
EPITAPH.
Alas! poor Mungo!
Happy wert thou, hadst thou known
Thy own felicity.
Remote from the fierce bald eagle,
Tyrant of thy native woods,
Thou hadst nought to fear from his piercing talons,
Nor from the murdering gun
Of the thoughtless sportsman.
Safe in thy wired castle,
Grimalkin never could annoy thee.
Daily wert thou fed with the choicest viands,
By the fair hand of an indulgent mistress;
But, discontented,
Thou wouldst have more freedom.
Too soon, alas! didst thou obtain it;
And wandering,
Thou art fallen by the fangs of wanton, cruel Ranger!
Learn hence,
Ye who blindly seek more liberty,
Whether subjects, sons, squirrels or daughters,
That apparent restraint may be real protection;
Yielding peace and plenty
With security.
You see, my dear Miss, how much more decent and proper
this broken style is, than if we were to say, by way of epitaph,
Here Skugg
Lies snug,
As a bug
In a rug.
and yet, perhaps, there are people in the world of so little feeling
as to think that this would be a good-enough epitaph for poor
Mungo.
If you wish it, I shall procure another to succeed him; but
perhaps you will now choose some other amusement.[351]
Remember me affectionately to all the good family, and believe
me ever,
Your affectionate friend,
B. Franklin.
TO PETER FRANKLIN
[No date.][79]
Dear Brother,
I like your ballad, and think it well adapted for your purpose
of discountenancing expensive foppery, and encouraging industry
and frugality. If you can get it generally sung in your
country, it may probably have a good deal of the effect you
hope and expect from it. But as you aimed at making it general,
I wonder you chose so uncommon a measure in poetry, that
none of the tunes in common use will suit it. Had you fitted it
to an old one, well known, it must have spread much faster than
I doubt it will do from the best new tune we can get compos'd
for it. I think too, that if you had given it to some country girl
in the heart of the Massachusetts, who has never heard any other
than psalm tunes, or Chevy Chace, the Children in the Wood, the
Spanish Lady, and such old simple ditties, but has naturally a
good ear, she might more probably have made a pleasing popular
tune for you, than any of our masters here, and more proper
for your purpose, which would best be answered, if every word
could as it is sung be understood by all that hear it, and if the
emphasis you intend for particular words could be given by
the singer as well as by the reader; much of the force and impression
of the song depending on those circumstances. I will however
get it as well done for you as I can.
Do not imagine that I mean to depreciate the skill of our composers
of music here; they are admirable at pleasing practised
ears, and know how to delight one another; but, in composing
for songs, the reigning taste seems to be quite out of nature, or
rather the reverse of nature, and yet like a torrent, hurries them
all away with it; one or two perhaps only excepted.[352]
You, in the spirit of some ancient legislators, would influence
the manners of your country by the united powers of poetry
and music. By what I can learn of their songs, the music was
simple, conformed itself to the usual pronunciation of words,
as to measure, cadence or emphasis, &c., never disguised and
confounded the language by making a long syllable short, or a
short one long, when sung; their singing was only a more pleasing,
because a melodious manner of speaking; it was capable of
all the graces of prose oratory, while it added the pleasure of
harmony. A modern song, on the contrary, neglects all the
proprieties and beauties of common speech, and in their place
introduces its defects and absurdities as so many graces. I am
afraid you will hardly take my word for this, and therefore I
must endeavour to support it by proof. Here is the first song I
lay my hand on. It happens to be a composition of one of our
greatest masters, the ever-famous Handel. It is not one of his
juvenile performances, before his taste could be improved and
formed: It appeared when his reputation was at the highest, is
greatly admired by all his admirers, and is really excellent in its
kind. It is called, "The additional Favourite Song in Judas Maccabeus."
Now I reckon among the defects and improprieties
of common speech, the following, viz.
1. Wrong placing the accent or emphasis, by laying it on words
of no importance, or on wrong syllables.
2. Drawling; or extending the sound of words or syllables
beyond their natural length.
3. Stuttering; or making many syllables of one.
4. Unintelligibleness; the result of the three foregoing united.
5. Tautology; and
6. Screaming, without cause.
For the wrong placing of the accent, or emphasis, see it on the
word their instead of being on the word vain.
[353]
And on the word from, and the wrong syllable like.
For the drawling, see the last syllable of the word wounded.
And in the syllable wis, and the word from, and syllable bove.
For the stuttering, see the words ne'er relieve, in
Here are four syllables made of one, and eight of three; but this
is moderate. I have seen in another song, that I cannot now find,
seventeen syllables made of three, and sixteen of one. The latter
I remember was the word charms; viz. cha, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a,
a, a, a, a, a, a, arms. Stammering with a witness!
For the unintelligibleness; give this whole song to any taught
singer, and let her sing it to any company that have never heard
it; you shall find they will not understand three words in ten.
It is therefore that at the oratorios and operas one sees with
books in their hands all those who desire to understand what
they hear sung by even our best performers.
For the Tautology; you have, with their vain mysterious art,
twice repeated; magic charms can ne'er relieve you, three times.[354]
Nor can heal the wounded heart, three times. Godlike wisdom from
above, twice; and, this alone can ne'er deceive you, two or three
times. But this is reasonable when compared with the Monster
Polypheme, the Monster Polypheme, a hundred times over and
over, in his admired Acis and Galatea.
As to the screaming, perhaps I cannot find a fair instance in
this song; but whoever has frequented our operas will remember
many. And yet here methinks the words no and e'er, when sung
to these notes, have a little of the air of screaming, and would
actually be screamed by some singers.
I send you inclosed the song with its music at length. Read
the words without the repetitions. Observe how few they are,
and what a shower of notes attend them: You will then perhaps
be inclined to think with me, that though the words might
be the principal part of an ancient song, they are of small importance
in a modern one; they are in short only a pretence for
singing.
I am, as ever,
Your affectionate brother,
B. Franklin.
P.S. I might have mentioned inarticulation among the defects
in common speech that are assumed as beauties in modern
singing. But as that seems more the fault of the singer than of
the composer, I omitted it in what related merely to the composition.
The fine singer, in the present mode, stifles all the hard
consonants, and polishes away all the rougher parts of words
that serve to distinguish them one from another; so that you
hear nothing but an admirable pipe, and understand no more of
the song, than you would from its tune played on any other
instrument. If ever it was the ambition of musicians to make
instruments that should imitate the human voice, that ambition[355]
seems now reversed, the voice aiming to be like an instrument.
Thus wigs were first made to imitate a good natural head of hair;
but when they became fashionable, though in unnatural forms,
we have seen natural hair dressed to look like wigs.
ON THE PRICE OF CORN,
AND MANAGEMENT OF THE POOR[80]
TO THE PUBLIC
I am one of that class of people, that feeds you all, and at
present is 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'nt 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 shalt 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?[356]
"O, 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 spendidly, you say. And
pray, would you have them hoard the money they get? Their
fine clothes and furniture, do they make them 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 deuce 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 iron ware, 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 that
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,[357]
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 I 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[358]
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 burthen? On the
contrary, I affirm, that there is no country in the world in which
the poor are more idle, dissolute, drunken, and insolent. 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 dependence 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 that law, and you will
soon see a change in their manners. Saint Monday and Saint
Tuesday will soon cease to be holidays. 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.
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.
AN EDICT BY THE KING OF PRUSSIA[81]
[From the Gentleman's Magazine, October, 1773.]
Dantzic, Sept. 5, [1773].
We have long wondered here at the supineness of the English
nation, under the Prussian impositions upon its trade entering[359]
our port. We did not, till lately, know the claims, ancient and
modern, that hang over that nation; and therefore could not suspect
that it might submit to those impositions from a sense of
duty or from principles of equity. The following Edict, just
made publick, may, if serious, throw some light upon this matter.
"Frederic, by the grace of God, King of Prussia, &c., &c.,
&c., to all present and to come, (à tous présens et à venir,)
Health. The peace now enjoyed throughout our dominions,
having afforded us leisure to apply ourselves to the regulation of
commerce, the improvement of our finances, and at the same
time the easing our domestic subjects in their taxes: For these
causes, and other good considerations us thereunto moving, we
hereby make known, that, after having deliberated these affairs
in our council, present our dear brothers, and other great officers
of the state, members of the same, we, of our certain knowledge,
full power, and authority royal, have made and issued this present
Edict, viz.
"Whereas it is well known to all the world, that the first German
settlements made in the Island of Britain, were by colonies
of people, subject to our renowned ducal ancestors, and drawn
from their dominions, under the conduct of Hengist, Horsa,
Hella, Uff, Cerdicus, Ida, and others; and that the said colonies
have nourished under the protection of our august house for
ages past; have never been emancipated therefrom; and yet have
hitherto yielded little profit to the same: And whereas we ourself
have in the last war fought for and defended the said
colonies, against the power of France, and thereby enabled them
to make conquests from the said power in America, for which
we have not yet received adequate compensation: And whereas
it is just and expedient that a revenue should be raised from the
said colonies in Britain, towards our indemnification; and that
those who are descendants of our ancient subjects, and thence
still owe us due obedience, should contribute to the replenishing
of our royal coffers as they must have done, had their ancestors
remained in the territories now to us appertaining: We do
therefore hereby ordain, and command, that, from and after the[360]
date of these presents, there shall be levied and paid to our officers
of the customs, on all goods, wares, and merchandizes, and
on all grain and other produce of the earth, exported from the
said Island of Britain, and on all goods of whatever kind imported
into the same, a duty of four and a half per cent ad valorem,
for the use of us and our successors. And that the said
duty may more effectually be collected, we do hereby ordain,
that all ships or vessels bound from Great Britain to any other
part of the world, or from any other part of the world to Great
Britain, shall in their respective voyages touch at our port of
Koningsberg, there to be unladen, searched, and charged with
the said duties.
"And whereas there hath been from time to time discovered
in the said island of Great Britain, by our colonists there, many
mines or beds of iron-stone; and sundry subjects, of our ancient
dominion, skilful in converting the said stone into metal, have in
time past transported themselves thither, carrying with them and
communicating that art; and the inhabitants of the said island,
presuming that they had a natural right to make the best use they
could of the natural productions of their country for their own
benefit, have not only built furnaces for smelting the said stone
into iron, but have erected plating-forges, slitting-mills, and
steel-furnaces, for the more convenient manufacturing of the
same; thereby endangering a diminution of the said manufacture
in our ancient dominion;—we do therefore hereby farther ordain,
that, from and after the date hereof, no mill or other engine
for slitting or rolling of iron, or any plating-forge to work with
a tilt-hammer, or any furnace for making steel, shall be erected
or continued in the said island of Great Britain: And the Lord
Lieutenant of every county in the said island is hereby commanded,
on information of any such erection within his county,
to order and by force to cause the same to be abated and destroyed;
as he shall answer the neglect thereof to us at his peril.
But we are nevertheless graciously pleased to permit the inhabitants
of the said island to transport their iron into Prussia, there
to be manufactured, and to them returned; they paying our
Prussian subjects for the workmanship, with all the costs of[361]
commission, freight, and risk, coming and returning; any thing
herein contained to the contrary notwithstanding.
"We do not, however, think fit to extend this our indulgence
to the article of wool; but, meaning to encourage, not only the
manufacturing of woollen cloth, but also the raising of wool, in
our ancient dominions, and to prevent both, as much as may be,
in our said island, we do hereby absolutely forbid the transportation
of wool from thence, even to the mother country, Prussia;
and that those islanders may be farther and more effectually restrained
in making any advantage of their own wool in the way
of manufacture, we command that none shall be carried out of
one county into another; nor shall any worsted, bay, or woollen
yarn, cloth, says, bays, kerseys, serges, frizes, druggets, cloth-serges,
shalloons, or any other drapery stuffs, or woollen manufactures
whatsoever, made up or mixed with wool in any of the
said counties, be carried into any other county, or be waterborne
even across the smallest river or creek, on penalty of forfeiture
of the same, together with the boats, carriages, horses,
&c., that shall be employed in removing them. Nevertheless,
our loving subjects there are hereby permitted (if they think
proper) to use all their wool as manure for the improvement of
their lands.
"And whereas the art and mystery of making hats hath arrived
at great perfection in Prussia, and the making of hats
by our remoter subjects ought to be as much as possible restrained:
And forasmuch as the islanders before mentioned,
being in possession of wool, beaver and other furs, have presumptuously
conceived they had a right to make some advantage
thereof, by manufacturing the same into hats, to the prejudice
of our domestic manufacture: We do therefore hereby
strictly command and ordain, that no hats or felts whatsoever,
dyed or undyed, finished or unfinished, shall be loaded or put
into or upon any vessel, cart, carriage, or horse, to be transported
or conveyed out of one county in the said island into another
county, or to any other place whatsoever, by any person
or persons whatsoever; on pain of forfeiting the same, with a
penalty of five hundred pounds sterling for every offence. Nor[362]
shall any hat-maker, in any of the said counties, employ more
than two apprentices, on penalty of five pounds sterling per
month; we intending hereby, that such hatmakers, being so restrained,
both in the production and sale of their commodity,
may find no advantage in continuing their business. But, lest
the said islanders should suffer inconveniency by the want of
hats, we are farther graciously pleased to permit them to send
their beaver furs to Prussia; and we also permit hats made thereof
to be exported from Prussia to Britain; the people thus favoured
to pay all costs and charges of manufacturing, interest,
commission to our merchants, insurance and freight going and
returning, as in the case of iron.
"And, lastly, being willing farther to favour our said colonies
in Britain, we do hereby also ordain and command, that all the
thieves, highway and street robbers, house-breakers, forgerers,
murderers, s—d—tes, and villains of every denomination, who
have forfeited their lives to the law in Prussia; but whom we, in
our great clemency, do not think fit here to hang, shall be emptied
out of our gaols into the said island of Great Britain, for the
better peopling of that country.
"We flatter ourselves, that these our royal regulations and
commands will be thought just and reasonable by our much-favoured
colonists in England; the said regulations being copied
from their statutes of 10 and 11 William III. c. 10, 5 Geo. II, c.
22, 23, Geo. II. c. 29, 4 Geo. I. c. 11, and from other equitable
laws made by their parliaments; or from instructions given by
their Princes; or from resolutions of both Houses, entered into
for the good government of their own colonies in Ireland and
America.
"And all persons in the said island are hereby cautioned: not
to oppose in any wise the execution of this our Edict, or any
part thereof, such opposition being high treason; of which all
who are suspected shall be transported in fetters from Britain to
Prussia, there to be tried and executed according to the Prussian
law.
"Such is our pleasure.
"Given at Potsdam, this twenty-fifth day of the month of[363]
August, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-three, and
in the thirty-third year of our reign.
"By the King, in his Council.
"Rechtmaessig, Sec."
Some take this Edict to be merely one of the King's Jeux
d'Esprit: others suppose it serious, and that he means a quarrel
with England; but all here think the assertion it concludes with,
"that these regulations are copied from acts of the English parliament
respecting their colonies," a very injurious one; it being
impossible to believe, that a people distinguished for their love
of liberty, a nation so wise, so liberal in its sentiments, so just
and equitable towards its neighbours, should, from mean and
injudicious views of petty immediate profit, treat its own children
in a manner so arbitrary and tyrannical!
RULES BY WHICH A GREAT EMPIRE MAY BE
REDUCED TO A SMALL ONE
Presented to a late Minister, when he entered
upon his Administration
[From the Gentleman's Magazine, Sept., 1773.]
An ancient Sage boasted, that, tho' he could not fiddle, he
knew how to make a great city of a little one. The science that I,
a modern simpleton, am about to communicate, is the very
reverse.
I address myself to all ministers who have the management of
extensive dominions, which from their very greatness are become
troublesome to govern, because the multiplicity of their
affairs leaves no time for fiddling.
I. In the first place, gentlemen, you are to consider, that a
great empire, like a great cake, is most easily diminished at the
edges. Turn your attention, therefore, first to your remotest
provinces; that, as you get rid of them, the next may follow in
order.
II. That the possibility of this separation may always exist,
take special care the provinces are never incorporated with the[364]
mother country; that they do not enjoy the same common rights,
the same privileges in commerce; and that they are governed by
severer laws, all of your enacting, without allowing them any
share in the choice of the legislators. By carefully making and
preserving such distinctions, you will (to keep to my simile of
the cake) act like a wise ginger-bread-baker, who, to facilitate
a division, cuts his dough half through in those places where,
when baked, he would have it broken to pieces.
III. Those remote provinces have perhaps been acquired,
purchased, or conquered, at the sole expence of the settlers, or
their ancestors, without the aid of the mother country. If this
should happen to increase her strength, by their growing numbers,
ready to join in her wars; her commerce, by their growing
demand for her manufactures; or her naval power, by greater
employment for her ships and seamen, they may probably suppose
some merit in this, and that it entitles them to some favour;
you are therefore to forget it all, or resent it, as if they had done
you injury. If they happen to be zealous whigs, friends of liberty,
nurtured in revolution principles, remember all that to their
prejudice, and resolve to punish it; for such principles, after a
revolution is thoroughly established, are of no more use; they
are even odious and abominable.
IV. However peaceably your colonies have submitted to
your government, shewn their affection to your interests, and
patiently borne their grievances; you are to suppose them always
inclined to revolt, and treat them accordingly. Quarter troops
among them, who by their insolence may provoke the rising of
mobs, and by their bullets and bayonets suppress them. By this
means, like the husband who uses his wife ill from suspicion, you
may in time convert your suspicions into realities.
V. Remote provinces must have Governors and Judges, to
represent the Royal Person, and execute everywhere the delegated
parts of his office and authority. You ministers know,
that much of the strength of government depends on the opinion
of the people; and much of that opinion on the choice of rulers
placed immediately over them. If you send them wise and good
men for governors, who study the interest of the colonists, and[365]
advance their prosperity, they will think their King wise and
good, and that he wishes the welfare of his subjects. If you send
them learned and upright men for Judges, they will think him a
lover of justice. This may attach your provinces more to his
government. You are therefore to be careful whom you recommend
for those offices. If you can find prodigals, who have
ruined their fortunes, broken gamesters or stockjobbers, these
may do well as governors; for they will probably be rapacious,
and provoke the people by their extortions. Wrangling proctors
and pettifogging lawyers, too, are not amiss; for they will
be for ever disputing and quarrelling with their little parliaments.
If withal they should be ignorant, wrong-headed, and insolent,
so much the better. Attornies' clerks and Newgate solicitors
will do for Chief Justices, especially if they hold their places during
your pleasure; and all will contribute to impress those ideas
of your government, that are proper for a people you would
wish to renounce it.
VI. To confirm these impressions, and strike them deeper,
whenever the injured come to the capital with complaints of maladministration,
oppression, or injustice, punish such suitors
with long delay, enormous expence, and a final judgment in
favour of the oppressor. This will have an admirable effect
every way. The trouble of future complaints will be prevented,
and Governors and Judges will be encouraged to farther acts of
oppression and injustice; and thence the people may become
more disaffected, and at length desperate.
VII. When such Governors have crammed their coffers, and
made themselves so odious to the people that they can no longer
remain among them, with safety to their persons, recall and reward
them with pensions. You may make them baronets too, if
that respectable order should not think fit to resent it. All will
contribute to encourage new governors in the same practice,
and make the supreme government, detestable.
VIII. If, when you are engaged in war, your colonies should
vie in liberal aids of men and money against the common enemy,
upon your simple requisition, and give far beyond their abilities,
reflect that a penny taken from them by your power is more[366]
honourable to you, than a pound presented by their benevolence;
despise therefore their voluntary grants; and resolve to
harass them with novel taxes. They will probably complain to
your parliaments, that they are taxed by a body in which they
have no representative, and that this is contrary to common
right. They will petition for redress. Let the Parliaments flout
their claims, reject their petitions, refuse even to suffer the reading
of them, and treat the petitioners with the utmost contempt.
Nothing can have a better effect in producing the alienation proposed;
for though many can forgive injuries, none ever forgave
contempt.
IX. In laying these taxes, never regard the heavy burthens
those remote people already undergo, in defending their own
frontiers, supporting their own provincial governments, making
new roads, building bridges, churches, and other public edifices,
which in old countries have been done to your hands by your
ancestors, but which occasion constant calls and demands on the
purses of a new people. Forget the restraints you lay on their
trade for your own benefit, and the advantage a monopoly of this
trade gives your exacting merchants. Think nothing of the
wealth those merchants and your manufacturers acquire by the
colony commerce; their encreased ability thereby to pay
taxes at home; their accumulating, in the price of their commodities,
most of those taxes, and so levying them from their
consuming customers; all this, and the employment and support
of thousands of your poor by the colonists, you are intirely to
forget. But remember to make your arbitrary tax more grievous
to your provinces, by public declarations importing that your
power of taxing them has no limits; so that when you take from
them without their consent one shilling in the pound, you have
a clear right to the other nineteen. This will probably weaken
every idea of security in their property, and convince them, that
under such a government they have nothing they can call their
own; which can scarce fail of producing the happiest consequences!
X. Possibly, indeed, some of them might still comfort themselves,
and say, "Though we have no property, we have yet[367]
something left that is valuable; we have constitutional liberty,
both of person and of conscience. This King, these Lords, and
these Commons, who it seems are too remote from us to know
us, and feel for us, cannot take from us our Habeas Corpus right,
or our right of trial by a jury of our neighbours; they cannot deprive
us of the exercise of our religion, alter our ecclesiastical
constitution, and compel us to be Papists, if they please, or
Mahometans." To annihilate this comfort, begin by laws to
perplex their commerce with infinite regulations, impossible to
be remembered and observed; ordain seizures of their property
for every failure; take away the trial of such property by Jury,
and give it to arbitrary Judges of your own appointing, and of
the lowest characters in the country, whose salaries and emoluments
are to arise out of the duties or condemnations, and whose
appointments are during pleasure. Then let there be a formal
declaration of both Houses, that opposition to your edicts is
treason, and that any person suspected of treason in the provinces
may, according to some obsolete law, be seized and sent to
the metropolis of the empire for trial; and pass an act, that those
there charged with certain other offences, shall be sent away in
chains from their friends and country to be tried in the same
manner for felony. Then erect a new Court of Inquisition
among them, accompanied by an armed force, with instructions
to transport all such suspected persons; to be ruined by the expence,
if they bring over evidences to prove their innocence, or
be found guilty and hanged, if they cannot afford it. And, lest
the people should think you cannot possibly go any farther, pass
another solemn declaratory act, "that King, Lords, Commons
had, hath, and of right ought to have, full power and authority
to make statutes of sufficient force and validity to bind the unrepresented
provinces IN ALL CASES WHATSOEVER." This will
include spiritual with temporal, and, taken together, must operate
wonderfully to your purpose; by convincing them, that
they are at present under a power something like that spoken of
in the scriptures, which can not only kill their bodies, but damn
their souls to all eternity, by compelling them, if it pleases, to
worship the Devil.[368]
XI. To make your taxes more odious, and more likely to
procure resistance, send from the capital a board of officers to
superintend the collection, composed of the most indiscreet, ill-bred,
and insolent you can find. Let these have large salaries out
of the extorted revenue, and live in open, grating luxury upon
the sweat and blood of the industrious; whom they are to worry
continually with groundless and expensive prosecutions before
the abovementioned arbitrary revenue Judges; all at the cost of
the party prosecuted, tho' acquitted, because the King is to pay
no costs. Let these men, by your order, be exempted from all the
common taxes and burthens of the province, though they and
their property are protected by its laws. If any revenue officers
are suspected of the least tenderness for the people, discard them.
If others are justly complained of, protect and reward them. If
any of the under officers behave so as to provoke the people to
drub them, promote those to better offices: this will encourage
others to procure for themselves such profitable drubbings, by
multiplying and enlarging such provocations, and all will
work towards the end you aim at.
XII. Another way to make your tax odious, is to misapply
the produce of it. If it was originally appropriated for the defence
of the provinces, the better support of government, and
the administration of justice, where it may be necessary, then apply
none of it to that defence, but bestow it where it is not necessary,
in augmented salaries or pensions to every governor, who
has distinguished himself by his enmity to the people, and by
calumniating them to their sovereign. This will make them pay
it more unwillingly, and be more apt to quarrel with those that
collect it and those that imposed it, who will quarrel again with
them, and all shall contribute to your main purpose, of making
them weary of your government.
XIII. If the people of any province have been accustomed to
support their own Governors and Judges to satisfaction, you
are to apprehend that such Governors and Judges may be thereby
influenced to treat the people kindly, and to do them justice.
This is another reason for applying part of that revenue in larger
salaries to such Governors and Judges, given, as their commissions[369]
are, during your pleasure only; forbidding them to take any
salaries from their provinces; that thus the people may no longer
hope any kindness from their Governors, or (in Crown cases)
any justice from their Judges. And, as the money thus misapplied
in one province is extorted from all, probably all will
resent the misapplication.
XIV. If the parliaments of your provinces should dare to
claim rights, or complain of your administration, order them to
be harassed with repeated dissolutions. If the same men are continually
returned by new elections, adjourn their meetings to
some country village, where they cannot be accommodated, and
there keep them during pleasure; for this, you know, is your
PREROGATIVE; and an excellent one it is, as you may manage it to
promote discontents among the people, diminish their respect,
and increase their disaffection.
XV. Convert the brave, honest officers of your navy into
pimping tide-waiters and colony officers of the customs. Let
those, who in time of war fought gallantly in defence of the commerce
of their countrymen, in peace be taught to prey upon it.
Let them learn to be corrupted by great and real smugglers; but
(to shew their diligence) scour with armed boats every bay,
harbour, river, creek, cove, or nook throughout the coast of
your colonies; stop and detain every coaster, every wood-boat,
every fisherman, tumble their cargoes and even their ballast inside
out and upside down; and, if a penn'orth of pins is found unentered,
let the whole be seized and confiscated. Thus shall the
trade of your colonists suffer more from their friends in time of
peace, than it did from their enemies in war. Then let these
boats crews land upon every farm in their way, rob the orchards,
steal the pigs and the poultry, and insult the inhabitants. If the
injured and exasperated farmers, unable to procure other justice,
should attack the aggressors, drub them, and burn their boats;
you are to call this high treason and rebellion, order fleets and
armies into their country, and threaten to carry all the offenders
three thousand miles to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. O!
this will work admirably!
XVI. If you are told of discontents in your colonies, never[370]
believe that they are general, or that you have given occasion
for them; therefore do not think of applying any remedy, or of
changing any offensive measure. Redress no grievance, lest
they should be encouraged to demand the redress of some other
grievance. Grant no request that is just and reasonable, lest they
should make another that is unreasonable. Take all your informations
of the state of the colonies from your Governors and
officers in enmity with them. Encourage and reward these leasing-makers;
secrete their lying accusations, lest they should be
confuted; but act upon them as the clearest evidence; and believe
nothing you hear from the friends of the people: suppose all
their complaints to be invented and promoted by a few factious
demagogues, whom if you could catch and hang, all would be
quiet. Catch and hang a few of them accordingly; and the blood
of the Martyrs shall work miracles in favour of your purpose.
XVII. If you see rival nations rejoicing at the prospect of
your disunion with your provinces, and endeavouring to promote
it; if they translate, publish, and applaud all the complaints
of your discontented colonists, at the same time privately stimulating
you to severer measures, let not that alarm or offend you.
Why should it, since you all mean the same thing?
XVIII. If any colony should at their own charge erect a
fortress to secure their port against the fleets of a foreign enemy,
get your Governor to betray that fortress into your hands.
Never think of paying what it cost the country, for that would
look, at least, like some regard for justice; but turn it into a citadel
to awe the inhabitants and curb their commerce. If they
should have lodged in such fortress the very arms they bought
and used to aid you in your conquests, seize them all; it will provoke
like ingratitude added to robbery. One admirable effect of
these operations will be, to discourage every other colony from
erecting such defences, and so your enemies may more easily
invade them; to the great disgrace of your government, and of
course the furtherance of your project.
XIX. Send armies into their country under pretence of protecting
the inhabitants; but, instead of garrisoning the forts on
their frontiers with those troops, to prevent incursions, demolish[371]
those forts, and order the troops into the heart of the country,
that the savages may be encouraged to attack the frontiers, and
that the troops may be protected by the inhabitants. This will
seem to proceed from your ill will or your ignorance, and contribute
farther to produce and strengthen an opinion among
them, that you are no longer fit to govern them.
XX. Lastly, invest the General of your army in the provinces,
with great and unconstitutional powers, and free him from the
controul of even your own Civil Governors. Let him have
troops enow under his command, with all the fortresses in his
possession; and who knows but (like some provincial Generals
in the Roman empire, and encouraged by the universal discontent
you have produced) he may take it into his head to set up
for himself? If he should, and you have carefully practised these
few excellent rules of mine, take my word for it, all the provinces
will immediately join him; and you will that day (if you have not
done it sooner) get rid of the trouble of governing them, and
all the plagues attending their commerce and connection from
henceforth and for ever.
Q. E. D.
TO WILLIAM FRANKLIN
London, October 6, 1773.
Dear Son,
I wrote to you the 1st of last month, since which I have received
yours of July 29, from New York. I know not what letters
of mine Governor H[utchinson] could mean, as advising
the people to insist on their independency. But whatever they
were, I suppose he has sent copies of them hither, having heard
some whisperings about them. I shall however, be able at any
time to justify every thing I have written; the purport being uniformly
this, that they should carefully avoid all tumults and every
violent measure, and content themselves with verbally keeping
up their claims, and holding forth their rights whenever
occasion requires; secure, that, from the growing importance of[372]
America, those claims will ere long be attended to and acknowledged.
From a long and thorough consideration of the subject, I am
indeed of opinion, that the parliament has no right to make any
law whatever, binding on the colonies; that the king, and not
the king, lords, and commons collectively, is their sovereign;
and that the king, with their respective parliaments, is their only
legislator. I know your sentiments differ from mine on these
subjects. You are a thorough government man, which I do not
wonder at, nor do I aim at converting you. I only wish you to
act uprightly and steadily, avoiding that duplicity, which in
Hutchinson, adds contempt to indignation. If you can promote
the prosperity of your people, and leave them happier than you
found them, whatever your political principles are, your memory
will be honoured.
I have written two pieces here lately for the Public Advertiser,
on American affairs, designed to expose the conduct of this
country towards the colonies in a short, comprehensive, and
striking view, and stated, therefore, in out-of-the-way forms, as
most likely to take the general attention. The first was called
"Rules by which a Great Empire may be reduced to a small one;"
the second, "An Edict of the King of Prussia." I sent you one of
the first, but could not get enough of the second to spare you
one, though my clerk went the next morning to the printer's,
and wherever they were sold. They were all gone but two. In
my own mind I preferred the first, as a composition for the
quantity and variety of the matter contained, and a kind of spirited
ending of each paragraph. But I find that others here
generally prefer the second.
I am not suspected as the author, except by one or two friends;
and have heard the latter spoken of in the highest terms, as the
keenest and severest piece that has appeared here for a long
time. Lord Mansfield, I hear, said of it, that it was very ABLE
and very ARTFUL indeed; and would do mischief by giving
here a bad impression of the measures of government; and in the
colonies, by encouraging them in their contumacy. It is reprinted
in the Chronicle, where you will see it, but stripped of all[373]
the capitaling and italicing, that intimate the allusions and mark
the emphasis of written discourses, to bring them as near as possible
to those spoken: printing such a piece all in one even small
character, seems to me like repeating one of Whitefield's sermons
in the monotony of a schoolboy.
What made it the more noticed here was, that people in reading
it were, as the phrase is, taken in, till they had got half
through it, and imagined it a real edict, to which mistake I suppose
the King of Prussia's character must have contributed. I
was down at Lord Le Despencer's when the post brought that
day's papers. Mr. Whitehead was there, too, (Paul Whitehead,
the author of "Manners,") who runs early through all the papers,
and tells the company what he finds remarkable. He had
them in another room, and we were chatting in the breakfast
parlour, when he came running in to us, out of breath, with the
paper in his hand. Here! says he, here's news for ye! Here's
the King of Prussia, claiming a right to this kingdom! All stared,
and I as much as anybody; and he went on to read it. When
he had read two or three paragraphs, a gentleman present said,
Damn his impudence, I dare say, we shall hear by next post that
he is upon his march with one hundred thousand men to back this.
Whitehead, who is very shrewd, soon after began to smoke it,
and looking in my face said, I'll be hanged if this is not some of
your American jokes upon us. The reading went on, and ended
with abundance of laughing, and a general verdict that it was
a fair hit: and the piece was cut out of the paper and preserved
in my Lord's collection.
I do not wonder that Hutchinson should be dejected. It must
be an uncomfortable thing to live among people who he is conscious
universally detest him. Yet I fancy he will not have leave
to come home, both because they know not well what to do
with him, and because they do not very well like his conduct.
I am ever your affectionate father,
B. Franklin.
[374]
PREFACE TO "AN ABRIDGMENT
OF THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER"[82]
[1773]
The editor of the following abridgment of the Liturgy of
the Church of England thinks it but decent and respectful to
all, more particularly to the reverend body of clergy, who adorn
the Protestant religion by their good works, preaching, and
example, that he should humbly offer some reason for such an
undertaking. He addresses himself to the serious and discerning.
He professes himself to be a Protestant of the Church of
England, and holds in the highest veneration the doctrines of
Jesus Christ. He is a sincere lover of social worship, deeply
sensible of its usefulness to society; and he aims at doing some
service to religion, by proposing such abbreviations and omissions
in the forms of our Liturgy (retaining everything he thinks
essential) as might, if adopted, procure a more general attendance.
For, besides the differing sentiments of many pious and
well-disposed persons in some speculative points, who in general
have a good opinion of our Church, it has often been observed
and complained of, that the Morning and Evening Service,
as practised in England and elsewhere, are so long, and filled
with so many repetitions, that the continued attention suitable
to so serious a duty becomes impracticable, the mind wanders,
and the fervency of devotion is slackened. Also the propriety
of saying the same prayer more than once in the same service
is doubted, as the service is thereby lengthened without apparent
necessity; our Lord having given us a short prayer as an
example, and censured the heathen for thinking to be heard
because of much speaking.
Moreover, many pious and devout persons, whose age or infirmities
will not suffer them to remain for hours in a cold
church, especially in the winter season, are obliged to forego the
comfort and edification they would receive by their attendance
at divine service. These, by shortening the time, would be relieved,
and the younger sort, who have had some principles of[375]
religion instilled into them, and who have been educated in a
belief of the necessity of adoring their Maker, would probably
more frequently, as well as cheerfully, attend divine service, if
they were not detained so long at any one time. Also many well
disposed tradesmen, shopkeepers, artificers, and others, whose
habitations are not remote from churches, could, and would,
more frequently at least, find [time to attend divine service on
other than Sundays, if the prayers were reduced to a much
narrower compass.
Formerly there were three services performed at different
times of the day, which three services are now usually joined in
one. This may suit the convenience of the person who officiates,
but it is too often inconvenient and tiresome to the congregation.
If this abridgment, therefore, should ever meet with
acceptance, the well-disposed clergy who are laudably desirous
to encourage the frequency of divine service, may promote so
great and good a purpose by repeating it three times on a Sunday,
without so much fatigue to themselves as at present. Suppose,
at nine o'clock, at eleven, and at one in the evening; and
by preaching no more sermons than usual of a moderate length;
and thereby accommodate a greater number of people with
convenient hours.
These were general reasons for wishing and proposing an
abridgment. In attempting it we do not presume to dictate even
to a single Christian. We are sensible there is a proper authority
in the rulers of the Church for ordering such matters; and whenever
the time shall come when it may be thought not unreasonable
to revise our Liturgy, there is no doubt but every suitable
improvement will be made, under the care and direction of so
much learning, wisdom, and piety, in one body of men collected.
Such a work as this must then be much better executed.
In the meantime this humble performance may serve to show
the practicability of shortening the service near one half,
without the omission of what is essentially necessary; and we
hope, moreover, that the book may be occasionally of some use
to families, or private assemblies of Christians.
To give now some account of particulars. We have presumed[376]
upon this plan of abridgment to omit the First Lesson,
which is taken from the Old Testament, and retain only the
Second from the New Testament, which, we apprehend, is more
suitable to teach the so-much-to-be-revered doctrine of Christ,
and of more immediate importance to Christians;] although the
Old Testament is allowed by all to be an accurate and concise
history, and, as such, may more properly be read at home.
[We do not conceive it necessary for Christians to make use
of more than one creed. Therefore, in this abridgment are
omitted the Nicene Creed and that of St. Athanasius. Of the
Apostle's Creed we have retained the parts that are most intelligible
and most essential. And as the Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost are there confessedly and avowedly a part of the belief,
it does not appear necessary, after so solemn a confession, to
repeat again, in the Litany, the Son and Holy Ghost, as that part
of the service is otherwise very prolix.
The Psalms being a collection of odes written by different
persons, it hath happened that many of them are on the same
subjects and repeat the same sentiments—such as those that
complain of enemies and persecutors, call upon God for protection,
express a confidence therein, and thank him for it when
afforded. A very great part of the book consists of repetitions
of this kind, which may therefore well bear abridgment. Other
parts are merely historical, repeating the mention of facts more
fully narrated in the preceding books, and which, relating to the
ancestors of the Jews, were more interesting to them than to us.
Other parts are local, and allude to places of which we have no
knowledge, and therefore do not affect us. Others are personal,
relating to the particular circumstances of David or Solomon,
as kings, and can therefore seldom be rehearsed with any propriety
by private Christians. Others imprecate, in the most
bitter terms, the vengeance of God on our adversaries, contrary
to the spirit of Christianity, which commands us to love our
enemies, and to pray for those that hate us and despitefully use
us. For these reasons it is to be wished that the same liberty
were by the governors of our Church allowed to the minister
with regard to the reading Psalms, as is taken by the clerk with[377]
regard to those that are to be sung, in directing the parts that
he may judge most suitable to be read at the time, from the
present circumstances of the congregation, or the tenor of his
sermon, by saying, "Let us read" such and such parts of the
Psalms named. Until this is done our abridgment, it is hoped,
will be found to contain what may be most generally proper to
be joined in by an assembly of Christian people. The Psalms are
still apportioned to the days of the month, as heretofore, though
the several parts for each day are generally a full third shorter.
We humbly suppose the same service contained in this abridgment
might properly serve for all the saints' days, fasts, and
feasts, reading only the Epistle and Gospel appropriated to each
day of the month.
The Communion is greatly abridged, on account of its great
length; nevertheless, it is hoped and believed that all those parts
are retained which are material and necessary.
Infant Baptism in Churches being performed during divine
service, would greatly add to the length of that service, if it
were not abridged. We have ventured, therefore, to leave out
the less material parts.
The Catechism, as a compendium of systematic theology,
which learned divines have written folio volumes to explain, and
which, therefore, it may be presumed, they thought scarce intelligible
without such expositions, is, perhaps, taken altogether,
not so well adapted to the capacities of children as might be
wished. Only those plain answers, therefore, which express our
duty towards God, and our duty towards our neighbor, are
retained here. The rest is recommended to their reading and
serious consideration, when more years shall have ripened their
understanding.]
The Confirmation is here shortened.
The Commination, and all cursing of mankind, is, we think,
best omitted in this abridgment.
The form of solemnization of Matrimony is often abbreviated
by the officiating minister at his discretion. We have selected
what appears to us the material parts, and which we humbly
hope, will be deemed sufficient.[378]
The long prayers in the service for the Visitation of the Sick
seem not so proper, when the afflicted person is very weak and
in distress.
The Order for the Burial of the Dead is very solemn and
moving; nevertheless, to preserve the health and lives of the
living, it appeared to us that this service ought particularly to
be shortened. For numbers standing in the open air with their
hats off, often in tempestuous weather, during the celebration,
its great length is not only inconvenient, but may be dangerous
to the attendants. We hope, therefore, that our abridgment of
it will be approved by the rational and prudent.
The Thanksgiving of women after childbirth being, when
read, part of the service of the day, we have also, in some
measure, abridged that.
Having thus stated very briefly our motives and reasons, and
our manner of proceeding in the prosecution of this work, we
hope to be believed, when we declare the rectitude of our intentions.
We mean not to lessen or prevent the practice of religion,
but to honour and promote it. We acknowledge the excellency
of our present Liturgy, and, though we have shortened it, we
have not presumed to alter a word in the remaining text; not
even to substitute who for which in the Lord's Prayer, and elsewhere,
although it would be more correct. We respect the
characters of bishops and other dignitaries of our Church, and,
with regard to the inferior clergy we wish that they were more
equally provided for, than by that odious and vexatious as well
as unjust method of gathering tithes in kind, which creates animosities
and litigations, to the interruption of the good harmony
and respect which might otherwise subsist between the rectors
and their parishioners.
And thus, conscious of upright meaning, we submit this
abridgment to the serious consideration of the prudent and
dispassionate, and not to enthusiasts and bigots; being convinced
in our own breasts, that this shortened method, or one of the
same kind better executed, would further religion, increase
unanimity, and occasion a more frequent attendance on the
worship of God.
[379]
A PARABLE AGAINST PERSECUTION[83]
1. And it came to pass after these things, that Abraham sat
in the door of his tent, about the going down of the sun.
2. And behold a man, bent with age, coming from the way
of the wilderness, leaning on a staff.
3. And Abraham arose and met him, and said unto him,
Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all night, and
thou shalt arise early in the morning, and go on thy way.
4. But the man said, Nay, for I will abide under this tree.
5. And Abraham pressed him greatly; so he turned, and they
went into the tent; and Abraham baked unleavened bread, and
they did eat.
6. And when Abraham saw that the man blessed not God, he
said unto him, Wherefore dost thou not worship the most high
God, Creator of heaven and earth?
7. And the man answered and said, I do not worship thy
God, neither do I call upon his name; for I have made to myself
a god, which abideth always in mine house, and provideth me
with all things.
8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against the man, and he
arose and fell upon him, and drove him forth with blows into
the wilderness.
9. And God called unto Abraham, saying, Abraham, where
is the stranger?
10. And Abraham answered and said, Lord, he would not
worship thee, neither would he call upon thy name; therefore
have I driven him out from before my face into the wilderness.
11. And God said, Have I borne with him these hundred and
ninety and eight years, and nourished him, and cloathed him,
notwithstanding his rebellion against me; and couldst not thou,
who art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night?
12. And Abraham said, Let not the anger of the Lord wax
hot against his servant; lo, I have sinned; lo, I have sinned;
forgive me, I pray thee.
13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into the wilderness,
and sought diligently for the man, and found him, and returned[380]
with him to the tent; and when he had entreated him kindly,
he sent him away on the morrow with gifts.
14. And God spake again unto Abraham, saying, For this thy
sin shall thy seed be afflicted four hundred years in a strange land;
15. But for thy repentance will I deliver them; and they shall
come forth with power, and with gladness of heart, and with
much substance.
A PARABLE ON BROTHERLY LOVE[84]
1. In those days there was no worker of iron in all the land.
And the merchants of Midian passed by with their camels, bearing
spices, and myrrh, and balm, and wares of iron.
2. And Reuben bought an axe of the Ishmaelite merchants,
which he prized highly, for there was none in his father's house.
3. And Simeon said unto Reuben his brother, "Lend me, I
pray thee, thine axe." But he refused, and would not.
4. And Levi also said unto him, "My brother, lend me, I
pray thee, thine axe;" and he refused him also.
5. Then came Judah unto Reuben, and entreated him, saying,
"Lo, thou lovest me, and I have always loved thee; do not refuse
me the use of thine axe."
6. But Reuben turned from him, and refused him likewise.
7. Now it came to pass, that Reuben hewed timber on the
bank of the river, and his axe fell therein, and he could by no
means find it.
8. But Simeon, Levi, and Judah had sent a messenger after
the Ishmaelites with money, and had bought for themselves each
an axe.
9. Then came Reuben unto Simeon, and said, "Lo, I have
lost mine axe, and my work is unfinished; lend me thine, I pray
thee."
10. And Simeon answered him, saying, "Thou wouldest not
lend me thine axe, therefore will I not lend thee mine."
11. Then went he unto Levi, and said unto him, "My brother,
thou knowest my loss and my necessity; lend me, I pray thee,
thine axe."[381]
12. And Levi reproached him, saying, "Thou wouldest not
lend me thine axe when I desired it, but I will be better than
thou, and will lend thee mine."
13. And Reuben was grieved at the rebuke of Levi and being
ashamed, turned from him, and took not the axe, but sought his
brother Judah.
14. And as he drew near, Judah beheld his countenance as it
were covered with grief and shame; and he prevented him, saying,
"My brother, I know thy loss; but why should it trouble
thee? Lo, have I not an axe that will serve both thee and me?
Take it, I pray thee, and use it as thine own."
15. And Reuben fell on his neck, and kissed him, with tears,
saying, "Thy kindness is great, but thy goodness in forgiving
me is greater. Thou are indeed my brother, and whilst I live,
will I surely love thee."
16. And Judah said, "Let us also love our other brethren;
behold, are we not all of one blood?"
17. And Joseph saw these things, and reported them to his
father Jacob.
18. And Jacob said, "Reuben did wrong, but he repented.
Simeon also did wrong; and Levi was not altogether blameless.
19. "But the heart of Judah is princely. Judah hath the soul
of a king. His father's children shall bow down before him, and
he shall rule over his brethren."
TO WILLIAM STRAHAN[85]
Philada July 5, 1775.
Mr. Strahan,
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.
[382]
TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
Philadelphia, July 7, 1775.
Dear Friend,
The Congress met at a time when all minds were so exasperated
by the perfidy of General Gage, and his attack on the
country people, that propositions of attempting an accommodation
were not much relished; and it has been with difficulty that
we have carried another humble petition to the crown, to give
Britain one more chance, one opportunity more, of recovering
the friendship of the colonies; which, however, I think she has
not sense enough to embrace, and so I conclude she has lost
them for ever.
She has begun to burn our seaport towns; secure, I suppose,
that we shall never be able to return the outrage in kind. She
may doubtless destroy them all; but, if she wishes to recover our
commerce, are these the probable means? She must certainly be
distracted; for no tradesman out of Bedlam ever thought of
encreasing the number of his customers, by knocking them on
the head; or of enabling them to pay their debts, by burning
their houses. If she wishes to have us subjects, and that we
should submit to her as our compound sovereign, she is now
giving us such miserable specimens of her government, that we
shall ever detest and avoid it, as a complication of robbery,
murder, famine, fire, and pestilence.
You will have heard, before this reaches you, of the treacherous
conduct [of General Gage] to the remaining people in
Boston, in detaining their goods, after stipulating to let them go
out with their effects, on pretence that merchants' goods were
not effects; the defeat of a great body of his troops by the country
people at Lexington; some other small advantages gained in
skirmishes with their troops; and the action at Bunker's Hill, in
which they were twice repulsed, and the third time gained a dear
victory. Enough has happened, one would think, to convince
your ministers, that the Americans will fight, and that this is a
harder nut to crack than they imagined.
We have not yet applied to any foreign power for assistance,[383]
nor offered our commerce for their friendship. Perhaps we
never may; yet it is natural to think of it, if we are pressed. We
have now an army on our establishment, which still holds yours
besieged. My time was never more fully employed. In the
morning at six, I am at the Committee of Safety, appointed by
the Assembly to put the province in a state of defence; which
committee holds till near nine, when I am at the Congress, and
that sits till after four in the afternoon. Both these bodies proceed
with the greatest unanimity, and their meetings are well
attended. It will scarce be credited in Britain, that men can be
as diligent with us from zeal for the public good, as with you
for thousands per annum. Such is the difference between uncorrupted
new states, and corrupted old ones.
Great frugality and great industry are now become fashionable
here. Gentlemen, who used to entertain with two or three
courses, pride themselves now in treating with simple beef and
pudding. By these means, and the stoppage of our consumptive
trade with Britain, we shall be better able to pay our voluntary
taxes for the support of our troops. Our savings in the article
of trade amount to near five millions sterling per annum.
I shall communicate your letter to Mr. Winthrop; but the
camp is at Cambridge, and he has as little leisure for philosophy
as myself. Believe me ever with sincere esteem, my dear friend,
yours most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
TO A FRIEND IN ENGLAND[86]
Philadelphia, Oct. 3, 1775.
Dear Sir,
I wish as ardently as you can do for peace, and should rejoice
exceedingly in coöperating with you to that end. But every ship
from Britain brings some intelligence of new measures that tend
more and more to exasperate; and it seems to me, that until you
have found by dear experience the reducing us by force impracticable,
you will think of nothing fair and reasonable.
We have as yet resolved only on defensive measures. If you[384]
would recall your forces and stay at home, we should meditate
nothing to injure you. A little time so given for cooling on
both sides would have excellent effects. But you will goad and
provoke us. You despise us too much; and you are insensible
of the Italian adage, that there is no little enemy. I am persuaded
that the body of the British people are our friends; but they are
changeable, and by your lying Gazettes may soon be made our
enemies. Our respect for them will proportionably diminish,
and I see clearly we are on the high road to mutual Enmity[,]
hatred and detestation. A separation of course will be inevitable.
'Tis a million of pities so fair a plan as we have hitherto been
engaged in, for increasing strength and empire with public felicity,
should be destroyed by the mangling hands of a few blundering
ministers. It will not be destroyed; God will protect and prosper
it, you will only exclude yourselves from any share in it. We
hear, that more ships and troops are coming out. We know,
that you may do us a great deal of mischief, and are determined
to bear it patiently as long as we can. But, if you flatter yourselves
with beating us into submission, you know neither the
people nor the country. The Congress are still sitting, and will
wait the result of their last petition. Yours, &c.
B. Franklin.
TO LORD HOWE
Philadelphia, July 30th,[87] 1776.
My Lord,
I receiv'd safe the Letters your Lordship so kindly forwarded
to me, and beg you to accept my thanks.
The official dispatches, to which you refer me, contain nothing
more than what we had seen in the Act of Parliament, viz. Offers
of Pardon upon Submission, which I was sorry to find, as it
must give your Lordship Pain to be sent upon so fruitless a
Business.
Directing Pardons to be offered to the Colonies, who are the
very Parties injured, expresses indeed that Opinion of our Ignorance,
Baseness, and Insensibility, which your uninform'd and
proud Nation has long been pleased to entertain of us; but it[385]
can have no other effect than that of increasing our Resentments.
It is impossible we should think of Submission to a Government,
that has with the most wanton Barbarity and Cruelty
burnt our defenceless Towns in the midst of Winter, excited the
Savages to massacre our Peacefull Farmers, and our Slaves to
murder their Masters, and is even now bringing foreign Mercenaries
to deluge our Settlements with Blood. These atrocious
Injuries have extinguished every remaining Spark of Affection
for that Parent Country we once held so dear; but, were it possible
for us to forget and forgive them, it is not possible for you
(I mean the British Nation) to forgive the People you have so
heavily injured. You can never confide again in those as Fellow
Subjects, and permit them to enjoy equal Freedom, to whom
you know you have given such just Cause of lasting Enmity.
And this must impel you, were we again under your Government,
to endeavour the breaking our Spirit by the severest
Tyranny, and obstructing, by every Means in your Power, our
growing Strength and Prosperity.
But your Lordship mentions "the King's paternal solicitude
for promoting the Establishment of lasting Peace and Union
with the Colonies." If by Peace is here meant a Peace to be
entered into between Britain and America, as distinct States now
at War, and his Majesty has given your Lordship Powers to
treat with us of such a Peace, I may venture to say, though without
Authority, that I think a Treaty for that purpose not yet quite
impracticable, before we enter into foreign Alliances. But I am
persuaded you have no such Powers. Your nation, though, by
punishing those American Governors, who have fomented the
Discord, rebuilding our burnt Towns, and repairing as far as
possible the mischiefs done us, might yet recover a great Share
of our Regard, and the greatest Part of our growing Commerce,
with all the Advantage of that additional Strength to be derived
from a Friendship with us; but I know too well her abounding
Pride and deficient Wisdom, to believe she will ever take such
salutary Measures. Her Fondness for Conquest, as a warlike
Nation, her lust of Dominion, as an ambitious one, and her
wish for a gainful Monopoly, as a commercial One, (none of[386]
them legitimate Causes of War,) will all join to hide from her
Eyes every view of her true Interests, and continually goad her
on in those ruinous distant Expeditions, so destructive both of
Lives and Treasure, that must prove as pernicious to her in the
End, as the Crusades formerly were to most of the Nations in
Europe.
I have not the Vanity, my Lord, to think of intimidating by
thus predicting the Effects of this War; for I know it will in
England have the Fate of all my former Predictions, not to be
believed till the Event shall verify it.
Long did I endeavour, with unfeigned and unwearied Zeal,
to preserve from breaking that fine and noble China Vase, the
British Empire; for I knew, that, being once broken, the separate
Parts could not retain even their Shares of the Strength and
Value that existed in the Whole, and that a perfect Reunion of
those Parts could scarce ever be hoped for. Your Lordship may
possibly remember the tears of Joy that wet my Cheek, when,
at your good Sister's in London, you once gave me Expectations
that a Reconciliation might soon take Place. I had the Misfortune
to find those Expectations disappointed, and to be treated
as the Cause of the Mischief I was laboring to prevent. My
Consolation under that groundless and malevolent Treatment
was, that I retained the Friendship of many wise and good Men
in that country, and, among the rest, some Share in the Regard
of Lord Howe.
The well-founded Esteem, and, permit me to say, Affection,
which I shall always have for your Lordship, makes it Painful
to me to see you engaged in conducting a War, the great
Ground of which, as expressed in your Letter, is "the necessity
of preventing the American trade from passing into foreign
Channels." To me it seems, that neither the Obtaining or
Retaining of any trade, how valuable soever, is an Object for
which men may justly spill each other's Blood; that the true and
sure Means of extending and securing Commerce is the goodness
and Cheapness of Commodities; and that the profit of no
trade can ever be equal to the Expence of compelling it, and of
holding it, by Fleets and Armies.[387]
I consider this War against us, therefore, as both unjust and
unwise; and I am persuaded, that cool, dispassionate Posterity
will condemn to Infamy those who advised it; and that even
Success will not save from some Degree of Dishonor those, who
voluntarily engaged to Conduct it. I know your great motive
in coming hither was the hope of being Instrumental in a Reconciliation;
and I believe, when you find that to be impossible
on any Terms given you to propose, you will relinquish so
odious a Command, and return to a more honourable private
Station.
With the greatest and most sincere Respect, I have the Honour
to be, my Lord, your Lordship's most obedient humble Servant,
B. Franklin.
THE SALE OF THE HESSIANS[88]
FROM THE COUNT DE SCHAUMBERGH TO THE BARON HOHENDORF,
COMMANDING THE HESSIAN TROOPS IN AMERICA
Rome, February 18, 1777.
Monsieur Le Baron:—
On my return from Naples, I received at Rome your letter
of the 27th December of last year. I have learned with unspeakable
pleasure the courage our troops exhibited at Trenton, and
you cannot imagine my joy on being told that of the 1,950 Hessians
engaged in the fight, but 345 escaped. There were just
1,605 men killed, and I cannot sufficiently commend your prudence
in sending an exact list of the dead to my minister in London.
This precaution was the more necessary, as the report sent
to the English ministry does not give but 1,455 dead. This
would make 483,450 florins instead of 643,500 which I am entitled
to demand under our convention. You will comprehend
the prejudice which such an error would work in my finances,
and I do not doubt you will take the necessary pains to prove
that Lord North's list is false and yours correct.
The court of London objects that there were a hundred
wounded who ought not to be included in the list, nor paid for[388]
as dead; but I trust you will not overlook my instructions to
you on quitting Cassel, and that you will not have tried by
human succor to recall the life of the unfortunates whose days
could not be lengthened but by the loss of a leg or an arm. That
would be making them a pernicious present, and I am sure they
would rather die than live in a condition no longer fit for my
service. I do not mean by this that you should assassinate them;
we should be humane, my dear Baron, but you may insinuate
to the surgeons with entire propriety that a crippled man is a
reproach to their profession, and that there is no wiser course
than to let every one of them die when he ceases to be fit to
fight.
I am about to send to you some new recruits. Don't economize
them. Remember glory before all things. Glory is true
wealth. There is nothing degrades the soldier like the love of
money. He must care only for honour and reputation, but this
reputation must be acquired in the midst of dangers. A battle
gained without costing the conqueror any blood is an inglorious
success, while the conquered cover themselves with glory by
perishing with their arms in their hands. Do you remember
that of the 300 Lacedæmonians who defended the defile of
Thermopylae, not one returned? How happy should I be could
I say the same of my brave Hessians!
It is true that their king, Leonidas, perished with them: but
things have changed, and it is no longer the custom for princes
of the empire to go and fight in America for a cause with which
they have no concern. And besides, to whom should they pay
the thirty guineas per man if I did not stay in Europe to receive
them? Then, it is necessary also that I be ready to send recruits
to replace the men you lose. For this purpose I must return to
Hesse. It is true, grown men are becoming scarce there, but I
will send you boys. Besides, the scarcer the commodity the
higher the price. I am assured that the women and little girls
have begun to till our lands, and they get on not badly. You
did right to send back to Europe that Dr. Crumerus who was
so successful in curing dysentery. Don't bother with a man who
is subject to looseness of the bowels. That disease makes bad[389]
soldiers. One coward will do more mischief in an engagement
than ten brave men will do good. Better that they burst in their
barracks than fly in a battle, and tarnish the glory of our arms.
Besides, you know that they pay me as killed for all who die
from disease, and I don't get a farthing for runaways. My trip
to Italy, which has cost me enormously, makes it desirable that
there should be a great mortality among them. You will therefore
promise promotion to all who expose themselves; you will
exhort them to seek glory in the midst of dangers; you will say
to Major Maundorff that I am not at all content with his saving
the 345 men who escaped the massacre of Trenton. Through
the whole campaign he has not had ten men killed in consequence
of his orders. Finally, let it be your principal object to
prolong the war and avoid a decisive engagement on either side,
for I have made arrangements for a grand Italian opera, and I
do not wish to be obliged to give it up. Meantime I pray God,
my dear Baron de Hohendorf, to have you in his holy and
gracious keeping.
MODEL OF A LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION[89]
Paris, April 2, 1777.
Sir:—
The bearer of this, who is going to America, presses me to
give him a Letter of Recommendation, tho' I know nothing of
him, not even his Name. This may seem extraordinary, but I
assure you it is not uncommon here. Sometimes, indeed one
unknown Person brings another equally unknown, to recommend
him; and sometimes they recommend one another! As to
this Gentleman, I must refer you to himself for his Character
and Merits, with which he is certainly better acquainted than I
can possibly be. I recommend him however to those Civilities,
which every Stranger, of whom one knows no Harm, has a
Right to; and I request you will do him all the good Offices,
and show him all the Favour that, on further Acquaintance, you
shall find him to deserve. I have the Honour to be, etc.
[B. F.]
[390]
TO ———————
Passy, Oct. 4, 1777.
Sir,
I am much obliged by your communication of the letter from
England. I am of your opinion, that it is not proper for publication
here. Our friend's expressions concerning Mr. Wilson, will
be thought too angry to be made use of by one philosopher
when speaking of another, and on a philosophical question. He
seems as much heated about this one point, as the Jansenists and
Molinists were about the five. As to my writing any thing on
the subject, which you seem to desire, I think it not necessary,
especially as I have nothing to add to what I have already said
upon it in a paper read to the committee, who ordered the
conductors at Purfleet; which paper is printed in the last French
edition of my writings.
I have never entered into any controversy in defence of my
philosophical opinions; I leave them to take their chance in the
world. If they are right, truth and experience will support them;
if wrong, they ought to be refuted and rejected. Disputes are
apt to sour one's temper, and disturb one's quiet. I have no
private interest in the reception of my inventions by the world,
having never made, nor proposed to make, the least profit by
any of them. The King's changing his pointed conductors for
blunt ones is, therefore, a matter of small importance to me. If
I had a wish about it, it would be that he had rejected them
altogether as ineffectual. For it is only since he thought himself
and family safe from the thunder of Heaven, that he dared
to use his own thunder in destroying his innocent subjects.[90]
I am, Sir, yours, &c.
B. Franklin.
TO DAVID HARTLEY[91]
Passy, Oct. 14, 1777.
Dear Sir,
I received duly your letter of May 2, 1777, including a copy
of one you had sent me the year before, which never came to[391]
hand, and which it seems has been the case with some I wrote
to you from America. Filled tho' our letters have always been
with sentiments of good will to both countries, and earnest desires
of preventing their ruin and promoting their mutual felicity,
I have been apprehensive, that, if it were known that a correspondence
subsisted between us, it might be attended with
inconvenience to you. I have therefore been backward in writing,
not caring to trust the post, and not well knowing whom
else to trust with my letters. But being now assured of a safe
conveyance, I venture to write to you, especially as I think the
subject such an one as you may receive a letter upon without
censure.
Happy should I have been, if the honest warnings I gave, of
the fatal separation of interests, as well as of affections, that must
attend the measures commenced while I was in England, had
been attended to, and the horrid mischief of this abominable war
been thereby prevented. I should still be happy in any successful
endeavours for restoring peace, consistent with the liberties, the
safety, and honour of America. As to our submitting to the
government of Great Britain, it is vain to think of it. She has
given us, by her numberless barbarities in the prosecution of the
war, and in the treatment of prisoners, by her malice in bribing
slaves to murder their masters, and savages to massacre the
families of farmers, with her baseness in rewarding the unfaithfulness
of servants, and debauching the virtue of honest seamen,
intrusted with our property, so deep an impression of her depravity,
that we never again can trust her in the management
of our affairs and interests. It is now impossible to persuade
our people, as I long endeavoured, that the war was merely
ministerial, and that the nation bore still a good will to us. The
infinite number of addresses printed in your gazettes, all approving
this conduct of your government towards us, and encouraging
our destruction by every possible means, the great majority
in Parliament constantly manifesting the same sentiments, and
the popular public rejoicings on occasion of any news of the
slaughter of an innocent and virtuous people, fighting only in
defence of their just rights; these, together with the recommendations[392]
of the same measures by even your celebrated moralists
and divines, in their writings and sermons, that are cited approved
and applauded in your great national assemblies; all join
in convincing us, that you are no longer the magnanimous and
enlightened nation, we once esteemed you, and that you are
unfit and unworthy to govern us, as not being able to govern
your own passions.
But, as I have said, I should be nevertheless happy in seeing
peace restored. For tho', if my friends and the friends of liberty
and virtue, who still remain in England, could be drawn out of
it, a continuance of this war to the ruin of the rest would give
me less concern, I cannot, as that removal is impossible, but
wish for peace for their sakes, as well as for the sake of humanity,
and preventing further carnage.
This wish of mine, ineffective as it may be, induces me to
mention to you, that, between nations long exasperated against
each other in war, some act of generosity and kindness towards
prisoners on one side has softened resentment, and abated animosity
on the other, so as to bring on an accommodation. You
in England, if you wish for peace, have at present the opportunity
of trying this means, with regard to the prisoners now in
your goals [sic]. They complain of very severe treatment. They
are far from their friends and families, and winter is coming on,
in which they must suffer extremely, if continued in their present
situation; fed scantily on bad provisions, without warm lodging,
clothes, or fire, and not suffered to invite or receive visits from
their friends, or even from the humane and charitable of their
enemies.
I can assure you, from my own certain knowledge, that your
people, prisoners in America, have been treated with great kindness;
they have been served with the same rations of wholesome
provisions with our own troops, comfortable lodgings have
been provided for them, and they have been allowed large
bounds of villages in a healthy air, to walk and amuse themselves
with on their parole. Where you have thought fit to employ
contractors to supply your people, these contractors have been
protected and aided in their operations. Some considerable act[393]
of kindness towards our people would take off the reproach of
inhumanity in that respect from the nation, and leave it where
it ought with more certainty to lay, on the conductors of your
war in America. This I hint to you, out of some remaining good
will to a nation I once sincerely loved. But, as things are, and
in my present temper of mind, not being over fond of receiving
obligations, I shall content myself with proposing, that your
government would allow us to send or employ a commissary
to take some care of those unfortunate people. Perhaps on your
representations this might speedily be obtained in England,
though it was refused most inhumanly at New York.
If you could have leisure to visit the goals [sic] in which they
are confined, and should be desirous of knowing the truth relative
to the treatment they receive, I wish you would take the trouble
of distributing among the most necessitous according to their
wants, two or three hundred pounds, for which your drafts on
me here shall be punctually honour'd. You could then be able
to speak with some certainty to the point in Parliament, and this
might be attended with good effect.
If you cannot obtain for us permission to send a commissary,
possibly you may find a trusty, humane, discreet person at
Plymouth, and another at Portsmouth, who would undertake
to communicate what relief we may be able to afford those unhappy,
brave men, martyrs to the cause of liberty. [Your King
will not reward you for taking this trouble, but God will.] I
shall not mention the good will of America; you have what is
better, the applause of your own good conscience. Our captains
have set at liberty above 200 of your people, made prisoners by
our armed vessels and brought into France, besides a great number
dismissed at sea on your coasts, to whom vessels were given
to carry them in: But you have not returned us a man in exchange.
If we had sold your people to the Moors at Sallee, as
you have many of ours to the African and East India Companies,
could you have complained?
In revising what I have written, I found too much warmth
in it, and was about to strike out some parts. Yet I let them go,
as they will afford you this one reflection; "If a man naturally[394]
cool, and render'd still cooler by old age, is so warmed by our
treatment of his country, how much must those people in general
be exasperated against us? And why are we making inveterate
enemies by our barbarity, not only of the present inhabitants
of a great country, but of their infinitely more numerous
posterity; who will in future ages detest the name of Englishman,
as much as the children in Holland now do those of Alva and
Spaniard." This will certainly happen, unless your conduct is
speedily changed, and the national resentment falls where it
ought to [fall] heavily, on your ministry, [or perhaps rather on
the King, whose will they only execute].
With the greatest esteem and affection, and best wishes for
your prosperity, I have the honour to be, dear Sir, &c.
B. Franklin.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN BRITAIN, FRANCE,
SPAIN, HOLLAND, SAXONY AND AMERICA [92]
Britain. Sister of Spain, I have a Favour to ask of you. My
Subjects in America are disobedient, and I am about to chastize
them; I beg you will not furnish them with any Arms or
Ammunition.
Spain. Have you forgotten, then, that when my Subjects in
the Low Countries rebelled against me, you not only furnish'd
them with military Stores, but join'd them with an Army and
a Fleet? I wonder how you can have the Impudence to ask such
a Favour of me, or the Folly to expect it!
Britain. You, my dear Sister of France, will surely not refuse
me this Favour.
France. Did you not assist my Rebel Hugenots with a Fleet
and an Army at Rochelle? And have you not lately aided privately
and sneakingly my Rebel Subjects in Corsica? And do
you not at this Instant keep their Chief, pension'd, and ready
to head a fresh Revolt there, whenever you can find or make
an Opportunity? Dear Sister, you must be a little silly!
Britain. Honest Holland! You see it is remembered that I
was once your Friend; you will therefore be mine on this Occasion.[395]
I know, indeed, you are accustom'd to smuggle with these
Rebels of mine. I will wink at that; sell 'em as much Tea as
you please, to enervate the Rascals, since they will not take it
of me; but for God's sake don't supply them with any Arms!
Holland. 'Tis true you assisted me against Philip, my Tyrant
of Spain, but have I not assisted you against one of your Tyrants;[H]
and enabled you to expell him? Surely that Accompt,
as we Merchants say, is ballanced, and I am nothing in your Debt.
I have indeed some Complaints against you, for endeavouring
to starve me by your Navigation Acts; but, being peaceably
dispos'd, I do not quarrel with you for that. I shall only go on
quietly with my own Business. Trade is my Profession: 't is all
I have to subsist on. And, let me tell you, I shall make no
scruple (on the prospect of a good Market for that Commodity)
even to send my ships to Hell and supply the Devil with Brimstone.
For you must know, I can insure in London against the
Burning of my Sails.
America to Britain. Why, you old bloodthirsty Bully! You
who have been everywhere vaunting your own Prowess, and
defaming the Americans as poltroons! You who have boasted
of being able to march over all their Bellies with a single Regiment!
You who by Fraud have possessed yourself of their
strongest Fortress, and all the arms they had stored up in it!
You who have a disciplin'd Army in their Country, intrench'd
to the Teeth, and provided with every thing! Do you run about
begging all Europe not to supply those poor People with a little
Powder and Shot? Do you mean, then, to fall upon them naked
and unarm'd, and butcher them in cold Blood? Is this your
Courage? Is this your Magnanimity?
Britain. Oh! you wicked—Whig—Presbyterian—Serpent!
Have you the Impudence to appear before me after all your
Disobedience? Surrender immediately all your Liberties and
Properties into my Hands, or I will cut you to Pieces. Was it
for this that I planted your country at so great an Expence?
That I protected you in your Infancy, and defended you against
all your Enemies?
[396]
America. I shall not surrender my Liberty and Property, but
with my Life. It is not true, that my Country was planted at
your expence. Your own Records refute that Falshood to your
Face. Nor did you ever afford me a Man or a Shilling to defend
me against the Indians, the only Enemies I had upon my own
Account. But, when you have quarrell'd with all Europe, and
drawn me with you into all your Broils, then you value yourself
upon protecting me from the Enemies you have made for me.
I have no natural Cause of Difference with Spain, France, or
Holland, and yet by turns I have join'd with you in Wars against
them all. You would not suffer me to make or keep a separate
Peace with any of them, tho' I might easily have done it to great
Advantage. Does your protecting me in those Wars give you
a Right to fleece me? If so, as I fought for you, as well as you
for me, it gives me a proportionable Right to fleece you. What
think you of an American Law to make a Monopoly of you and
your Commerce, as you have done by your Laws of me and
mine? Content yourself with that Monopoly if you are Wise,
and learn Justice if you would be respected!
Britain. You impudent b——h! Am not I your Mother
Country? Is that not a sufficient Title to your Respect and
Obedience?
Saxony. Mother country! Hah, hah, he! What Respect have
you the front to claim as a Mother Country? You know that
I am your Mother Country, and yet you pay me none. Nay, it
is but the other day, that you hired Ruffians[I] to rob me on the
Highway,[J] and burn my House![K] For shame! Hide your Face
and hold your Tongue. If you continue this Conduct, you will
make yourself the Contempt of Europe!
Britain. O Lord! Where are my friends?
France, Spain, Holland, and Saxony, all together. Friends!
Believe us, you have none, nor ever will have any, 'till you mend
your Manners. How can we, who are your Neighbours, have[397]
any regard for you, or expect any Equity from you, should your
Power increase, when we see how basely and unjustly you have
us'd both your own Mother and your own Children?
TO CHARLES DE WEISSENSTEIN[93]
Passy, July 1, 1778.
Sir,
I received your letter, dated at Brussels the 16th past. My
vanity might possibly be nattered 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 alone 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[398]
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 or 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 and conveniences of
life without external commerce; and we have too much land to
have the least 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 or
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.[399]
You think we flatter ourselves, and are deceived into an
opinion that England must acknowledge our independency.
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 done with that
of your King's 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 independency, 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 actually 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, called Arcana Imperii.[94] 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
rightly, 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, who,
to appease a revolt, makes promises of indemnity to the revolters,
is obliged to fulfil those promises. Honest and good men would[400]
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 from 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 to me which you
intimate may by your means be conveyed to the King directly,
without the intervention of those ministers. You would have
me give them to, or drop them for, a stranger, whom 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 true 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
to 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[401]
all the powers that could 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 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
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
a friend to be found afterwards among all mankind, you
would have us embrace upon 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
Peerages. 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[402]
court character. It is even the signature of your King. But
think for a moment in what light it must be viewed in America.
By Places, you mean places among us, for you take care by
a special article to secure your own 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
Sus-pension. 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 that title. We consider it as a sort of
tar-and-feather honour, or a mixture of foulness and folly, which
every man among us, who should accept it 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
infamy. I am, Sir, your humble Servant,
B. Franklin.
THE EPHEMERA[95]
An Emblem of Human Life
[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 stopt a little in one of our walks, and staid
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,[403]
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 live 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 grey-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 Joly, 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 labor, 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[404]
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.
B. Franklin.
TO RICHARD BACHE
Passy, June 2, 1779.
—I am very easy about the efforts Messrs. Lee and Izard are
using, as you tell me, to injure me on that side of the water. I
trust in the justice of the Congress, that they will listen to no
accusations against me, that I have not first been acquainted
with, and had an opportunity of answering. I know those
gentlemen have plenty of ill will to me, though I have never
done to either of them the smallest injury, or given the least just
cause of offence. But my too great reputation, and the general
good will this people have for me, and the respect they show
me, and even the compliments they make me, all grieve those
unhappy gentlemen; unhappy indeed in their tempers, and in
the dark, uncomfortable passions of jealousy, anger, suspicion,
envy, and malice. It is enough for good minds to be affected at
other people's misfortunes; but they, that are vexed at everybody's
good luck, can never be happy. I take no other revenge
of such enemies, than to let them remain in the miserable situation[405]
in which their malignant natures have placed them, by
endeavouring to support an estimable character; and thus, by
continuing the reputation the world has hitherto indulged me
with, I shall continue them in their present state of damnation;
and I am not disposed to reverse my conduct for the alleviation
of their torments.
I am surprised to hear, that my grandson, Temple Franklin,
being with me, should be an objection against me, and that there
is a cabal for removing him.[96] Methinks it is rather some merit,
that I have rescued a valuable young man from the danger of
being a Tory, and fixed him in honest republican Whig principles;
as I think, from the integrity of his disposition, his industry,
his early sagacity, and uncommon abilities for business,
he may in time become of great service to his country. It is
enough that I have lost my son; would they add my grandson?
An old man of seventy, I undertook a winter voyage at the
command of the Congress, and for the public service, with no
other attendant to take care of me. I am continued here in a
foreign country, where, if I am sick, his filial attention comforts
me, and, if I die, I have a child to close my eyes and take care of
my remains. His dutiful behaviour towards me, and his diligence
and fidelity in business, are both pleasing and useful to
me. His conduct, as my private secretary, has been unexceptionable,
and I am confident the Congress will never think of
separating us.
I have had a great deal of pleasure in Ben too.[97] He is a good,
honest lad, and will make, I think, a valuable man. He had
made as much proficiency in his learning, as the boarding school
he was at could well afford him; and, after some consideration
where to find a better for him, I at length fixed on sending him
to Geneva. I had a good opportunity by a gentleman of that
city; who had a place for him in his chaise, and has a son about
the same age at the same school. He promised to take care of
him, and enclosed I send you the letters I have since received
relating to him and from him. He went very cheerfully, and I
understand is very happy. I miss his company on Sundays at
dinner. But, if I live, and I can find a little leisure, I shall make[406]
the journey next spring to see him, and to see at the same time
the old thirteen United States of Switzerland.
Thanks be to God, I continue well and hearty. Undoubtedly
I grow older, but I think the last ten years have made no great
difference. I have sometimes the gout, but they say that is not
so much a disease as a remedy. God bless you. I am your
affectionate father,
B. Franklin.
MORALS OF CHESS[98]
[1779]
[Playing at chess is the most ancient and most universal game
known among men; for its original is beyond the memory of
history, and it has, for numberless ages, been the amusement of
all the civilised nations of Asia, the Persians, the Indians, and
the Chinese. Europe has had it above a thousand years; the
Spaniards have spread it over their part of America; and it has
lately begun to make its appearance in the United States. It is
so interesting in itself, as not to need the view of gain to induce
engaging in it; and thence it is seldom played for money. Those
therefore who have leisure for such diversions, cannot find one
that is more innocent: and the following piece, written with a
view to correct (among a few young friends) some little improprieties
in the practice of it, shows at the same time that it
may, in its effects on the mind, be not merely innocent, but advantageous,
to the vanquished as well as the victor.]
The Game of Chess is not merely an idle Amusement. Several
very valuable qualities of the Mind, useful in the course of human
Life, are to be acquir'd or strengthened by it, so as to become
habits, ready on all occasions. For Life is a kind of Chess,
in which we often have Points to gain, & Competitors or Adversaries
to contend with; and in which there is a vast variety of
good and ill Events, that are in some degree the Effects of
Prudence or the want of it. By playing at Chess, then, we may
learn,[407]
I. Foresight, which looks a little into futurity, and considers
the Consequences that may attend an action; for it is continually
occurring to the Player, "If I move this piece, what will be the
advantages or disadvantages of my new situation? What Use
can my Adversary make of it to annoy me? What other moves
can I make to support it, and to defend myself from his attacks?"
II. Circumspection, which surveys the whole Chessboard, or
scene of action; the relations of the several pieces and situations,
the Dangers they are respectively exposed to, the several possibilities
of their aiding each other, the probabilities that the
Adversary may make this or that move, and attack this or the
other Piece, and what different Means can be used to avoid his
stroke, or turn its consequences against him.
III. Caution, not to make our moves too hastily. This habit
is best acquired, by observing strictly the laws of the Game;
such as, If you touch a Piece, you must move it somewhere; if you
set it down, you must let it stand. And it is therefore best that
these rules should be observed, as the Game becomes thereby
more the image of human Life, and particularly of War; in
which, if you have incautiously put yourself into a bad and
dangerous position, you cannot obtain your Enemy's Leave to
withdraw your Troops, and place them more securely, but you
must abide all the consequences of your rashness.
And lastly, we learn by Chess the habit of not being discouraged
by present appearances in the state of our affairs, the
habit of hoping for a favourable Change, and that of persevering
in the search of resources. The Game is so full of Events, there
is such a variety of turns in it, the Fortune of it is so subject to
sudden Vicissitudes, and one so frequently, after long contemplation,
discovers the means of extricating one's self from a
supposed insurmountable Difficulty, that one is encouraged to
continue the Contest to the last, in hopes of Victory from our
own skill, or at least [of getting a stale mate] from the Negligence
of our Adversary. And whoever considers, what in Chess he
often sees instances of, that [particular pieces of] success is [are]
apt to produce Presumption, & its consequent Inattention,
by which more is afterwards lost than was gain'd by the[408]
preceding Advantage, while misfortunes produce more care
and attention, by which the loss may be recovered, will learn
not to be too much discouraged by any present success of
his Adversary, nor to despair of final good fortune upon every
little Check he receives in the pursuit of it.
That we may therefore be induced more frequently to chuse
this beneficial amusement, in preference to others which are not
attended with the same advantages, every Circumstance that
may increase the pleasure of it should be regarded; and every
action or word that is unfair, disrespectful, or that in any way
may give uneasiness, should be avoided, as contrary to the
immediate intention of both the Players, which is to pass the
Time agreably.
Therefore, first, if it is agreed to play according to the strict
rules, then those rules are to be exactly observed by both
parties, and should not be insisted on for one side, while deviated
from by the other—for this is not equitable.
Secondly, if it is agreed not to observe the rules exactly, but
one party demands indulgencies, he should then be as willing
to allow them to the other.
Thirdly, no false move should ever be made to extricate yourself
out of difficulty, or to gain an advantage. There can be no
pleasure in playing with a person once detected in such unfair
practice.
Fourthly, if your adversary is long in playing, you ought not
to hurry him, or express any uneasiness at his delay. You should
not sing, nor whistle, nor look at your watch, nor take up a
book to read, nor make a tapping with your feet on the floor, or
with your fingers on the table, nor do any thing that may disturb
his attention. For all these things displease; and they do not
show your skill in playing, but your craftiness or your rudeness.
Fifthly, you ought not to endeavour to amuse and deceive
your adversary, by pretending to have made bad moves, and
saying that you have now lost the game, in order to make him
secure and careless, and inattentive to your schemes: for this is
fraud and deceit, not skill in the game.
Sixthly, you must not, when you have gained a victory, use[409]
any triumphing or insulting expression, nor show too much
pleasure; but endeavour to console your adversary, and make
him less dissatisfied with himself, by every kind of civil expression
that may be used with truth, such as, "you understand the
game better than I, but you are a little inattentive;" or, "you
play too fast;" or, "you had the best of the game, but something
happened to divert your thoughts, and that turned it in
my favour."
Seventhly, if you are a spectator while others play, observe
the most perfect silence. For, if you give advice, you offend
both parties, him against whom you give it, because it may
cause the loss of his game, him in whose favour you give it,
because, though it be good, and he follows it, he loses the
pleasure he might have had, if you had permitted him to think
until it had occurred to himself. Even after a move or moves,
you must not, by replacing the pieces, show how they might
have been placed better; for that displeases, and may occasion
disputes and doubts about their true situation. All talking to
the players lessens or diverts their attention, and is therefore
unpleasing. Nor should you give the least hint to either party,
by any kind of noise or motion. If you do, you are unworthy
to be a spectator. If you have a mind to exercise or show your
judgment, do it in playing your own game, when you have an
opportunity, not in criticizing, or meddling with, or counselling
the play of others.
Lastly, if the game is not to be played rigorously, according
to the rules above mentioned, then moderate your desire of
victory over your adversary, and be pleased with one over
yourself. Snatch not eagerly at every advantage offered by his
unskilfulness or inattention; but point out to him kindly, that
by such a move he places or leaves a piece in danger and unsupported;
that by another he will put his king in a perilous
situation, &c. By this generous civility (so opposite to the
unfairness above forbidden) you may, indeed, happen to lose
the game to your opponent; but you will win what is better,
his esteem, his respect, and his affection, together with the silent
approbation and good-will of impartial spectators.
[410]
TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN
Passy, Nov. 9, 1779.
Dear Sir,
I have received several kind Letters from you, which I have
not regularly answered. They gave me however great Pleasure,
as they acquainted me with your Welfare, and that of your
Family and other Friends; and I hope you will continue writing
to me as often as you can do it conveniently.
I thank you much for the great Care and Pains you have
taken in regulating and correcting the Edition of those Papers.
Your Friendship for me appears in almost every Page; and if
the Preservation of any of them should prove of Use to the
Publick, it is to you that the Publick will owe the Obligation.
In looking them over, I have noted some Faults of Impression
that hurt the Sense, and some other little Matters, which you will
find all in a Sheet under the title of Errata. You can best judge
whether it may be worth while to add any of them to the Errata
already printed, or whether it may not be as well to reserve the
whole for Correction in another Edition, if such should ever
be. Inclos'd I send a more perfect copy of the Chapter.[99]
If I should ever recover the Pieces that were in the Hands of
my Son, and those I left among my Papers in America, I think
there may be enough to make three more such Volumes, of
which a great part would be more interesting.
As to the Time of publishing, of which you ask my Opinion
I am not furnish'd with any Reasons, or Ideas of Reasons, on
which to form any Opinion. Naturally I should suppose the
Bookseller to be from Experience the best Judge, and I should
be for leaving it to him.
I did not write the Pamphlet you mention. I know nothing
of it. I suppose it is the same, concerning which Dr. Priestley
formerly asked me the same Question. That for which he
took it was intitled, A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity,
Pleasure and Pain, with these Lines in the Title Page.
"Whatever is, is right. But purblind Man
Sees but a part o' the Chain, the nearest Link;
[411]
His Eye not carrying to that equal Beam,
That poises all above."
Dryden.
London, Printed M. D. C. C. X. X. V.
It was addressed to Mr. J. R., that is, James Ralph, then a
youth of about my age, and my intimate friend; afterwards a
political writer and historian. The purport of it was to prove
the doctrine of fate, from the supposed attributes of God; in
some such manner as this: that in erecting and governing the
world, as he was infinitely wise, he knew what would be best;
infinitely good, he must be disposed, and infinitely powerful,
he must be able to execute it: consequently all is right. There
were only an hundred copies printed, of which I gave a few to
friends, and afterwards disliking the piece, as conceiving it
might have an ill tendency, I burnt the rest, except one copy,
the margin of which was filled with manuscript notes by Lyons,
author of the Infallibility of Human Judgment, who was at that
time another of my acquaintance in London. I was not nineteen
years of age when it was written. In 1730, I wrote a piece on
the other side of the question, which began with laying for its
foundation this fact: "That almost all men in all ages and
countries, have at times made use of prayer." Thence I reasoned,
that if all things are ordained, prayer must among
the rest be ordained. But as prayer can produce no change in
things that are ordained, praying must then be useless and an
absurdity. God would therefore not ordain praying if everything
else was ordained. But praying exists, therefore all things
are not ordained, etc. This pamphlet was never printed, and
the manuscript has been long lost. The great uncertainty I
found in metaphysical reasonings disgusted me, and I quitted
that kind of reading and study for others more satisfactory.
I return the Manuscripts you were so obliging as to send me;
I am concern'd at your having no other copys, I hope these
will get safe to your hands. I do not remember the Duke de
Chaulnes showing me the Letter you mention. I have received
Dr. Crawford's book, but not your Abstract, which I
wait for as you desire.[412]
I send you also M. Dupont's Table Economique, which I think
an excellent Thing, as it contains in a clear Method all the principles
of that new sect, called here les Économistes.
Poor Henley's dying in that manner is inconceivable to me.
Is any Reason given to account for it, besides insanity?
Remember me affectionately to all your good Family, and
believe me, with great Esteem, my dear Friend, yours, most
sincerely,
B. Franklin.
THE WHISTLE[100]
TO MADAME BRILLON
Passy, November 10, 1779.
I received my dear friend's two letters, one for Wednesday
and one for Saturday. This is again Wednesday. I do not deserve
one for to-day, because I have not answered the former.
But, indolent as I am, and averse to writing, the fear of having
no more of your pleasing epistles, if I do not contribute to the
correspondence, obliges me to take up my pen; and as Mr. B.
has kindly sent me word, that he sets out to-morrow to see you,
instead of spending this Wednesday evening as I have done its
namesakes, in your delightful company, I sit down to spend it
in thinking of you, in writing to you, and in reading over and
over again your letters.
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 holiday,
filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop[413]
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 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 afterwards 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,[414]
fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he
contracts debts, and ends his career in a 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.
THE LORD'S PRAYER
[1779?]
Old Version
1. Our Father which art in Heaven,
2. Hallowed be thy Name.
3. Thy Kingdom come.
4. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.
5. Give us this Day our daily Bread.
6. Forgive us our Debts as we forgive our Debtors.
And lead us not into Temptation, but deliver us from Evil.
New Version by B. F.
1. Heavenly Father,
2. May all revere thee,
[415]3. And become thy dutiful Children and faithful Subjects.
4. May thy Laws be obeyed on Earth as perfectly as they are in
Heaven.
5. Provide for us this Day as thou hast hitherto daily done.
6. Forgive us our Trespasses and enable us likewise to forgive
those that offend us.
7. Keep us out of Temptation, and deliver us from Evil.—
Reasons for the Change of Expression
Old Version. Our Father which art in Heaven.
New V.—Heavenly Father, is more concise, equally expressive,
and better modern English.—
Old V.—Hallowed be thy Name. This seems to relate to an
Observance among the Jews not to pronounce the proper or
peculiar Name of God, they deeming it a Profanation so to
do. We have in our Language no proper Name for God; the
Word God being a common or general Name, expressing all
chief Objects of Worship, true or false. The Word hallowed
is almost obsolete. People now have but an imperfect Conception
of the Meaning of the Petition. It is therefore proposed
to change the expression into
New V.—May all revere thee.
Old V.—Thy Kingdom come. This Petition seems suited to the
then Condition of the Jewish Nation. Originally their State
was a Theocracy. God was their King. Dissatisfied with
that kind of Government, they desired a visible earthly King
in the manner of the Nations round them. They had such
Kings accordingly; but their Offerings were due to God on
many Occasions by the Jewish Law, which when People
could not pay, or had forgotten as Debtors are apt to do, it
was proper to pray that those Debts might be forgiven. Our
Liturgy uses neither the Debtors of Matthew, nor the indebted
of Luke, but instead of them speaks of those that trespass
against us. Perhaps the Considering it as a Christian Duty to
forgive Debtors, was by the Compilers thought an inconvenient
Idea in a trading Nation.—There seems however
something presumptuous in this Mode of Expression, which
has the Air of proposing ourselves as an Example of Goodness
fit for God to imitate. We hope you will at least be as good as
we are; you see we forgive one another, and therefore we pray
that you would forgive us. Some have considered it in another
sense, Forgive us as we forgive others; i.e. If we do not
forgive others we pray that thou wouldst not forgive us. But
this being a kind of conditional Imprecation against ourselves,
seems improper in such a Prayer; and therefore it may be better
to say humbly & modestly
[416]
New V.—Forgive us our Trespasses, and enable us likewise to forgive
those that offend us. This instead of assuming that we
have already in & of ourselves the Grace of Forgiveness,
acknowledges our Dependance on God, the Fountain of
Mercy for any Share we may have in it, praying that he would
communicate of it to us.—
Old V.—And lead us not into Temptation. The Jews had a Notion,
that God sometimes tempted, or directed or permitted
the Tempting of People. Thus it was said he tempted Pharaoh;
directed Satan to tempt Job; and a false Prophet to
tempt Ahab, &c. Under this Persuasion it was natural for
them to pray that he would not put them to such severe Trials.
We now suppose that Temptation, so far as it is supernatural,
comes from the Devil only, and this Petition continued conveys
a Suspicion which in our present Conception seems
unworthy of God, therefore might be altered to
New V.—Keep us out of Temptation. Happiness was not increas'd
by the Change, and they had reason to wish and pray
for a Return of the Theocracy, or Government of God.
Christians in these Times have other Ideas when they speak
of the Kingdom of God, such as are perhaps more adequately
express'd by
New V.—And become thy dutiful Children & faithful Subjects.
Old V.—Thy Will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.
New V.—May thy Laws be obeyed on Earth as perfectly as they
are in Heaven.
Old V.—Give us this Day our daily Bread. Give us what is ours,
seems to put us in a Claim of Right, and to contain too little of
the grateful Acknowledgment and Sense of Dependance that
becomes Creatures who live on the daily Bounty of their
Creator. Therefore it is changed to
[417]
New V.—Provide for us this Day, as thou hast hitherto daily
done.
Old V.—Forgive us our Debts as we forgive our Debtors. Matthew.
Forgive us our Sins, for we also forgive every one that is indebted
to us. Luke.
THE LEVÉE
[1779?]
In the first chapter of Job we have an account of a transaction
said to have arisen in the court, or at the levée, of the best of all
possible princes, or of governments by a single person, viz. that
of God himself.
At this levée, in which the sons of God were assembled, Satan
also appeared.
It is probable the writer of that ancient book took his idea of
this levée from those of the eastern monarchs of the age he lived
in.
It is to this day usual at the levées of princes, to have persons
assembled who are enemies to each other, who seek to obtain
favor by whispering calumny and detraction, and thereby ruining
those that distinguish themselves by their virtue and merit.
And kings frequently ask a familiar question or two, of every
one in the circle, merely to show their benignity. These circumstances
are particularly exemplified in this relation.
If a modern king, for instance, finds a person in the circle who
has not lately been there, he naturally asks him how he has
passed his time since he last had the pleasure of seeing him? the
gentleman perhaps replies that he has been in the country to
view his estates, and visit some friends. Thus Satan being asked
whence he cometh? answers, "From going to and fro in the
earth, and walking up and down in it." And being further asked,
whether he had considered the uprightness and fidelity of the
prince's servant Job, he immediately displays all the malignance[418]
of the designing courtier, by answering with another question:
"Doth Job serve God for naught? Hast thou not given him immense
wealth, and protected him in the possession of it? Deprive
him of that, and he will curse thee to thy face." In modern
phrase, Take away his places and his pensions, and your Majesty
will soon find him in the opposition.
This whisper against Job had its effect. He was delivered into
the power of his adversary, who deprived him of his fortune,
destroyed his family, and completely ruined him.
The book of Job is called by divines a sacred poem, and, with
the rest of the Holy Scriptures, is understood to be written for
our instruction.
What then is the instruction to be gathered from this supposed
transaction?
Trust not a single person with the government of your state.
For if the Deity himself, being the monarch may for a time give
way to calumny, and suffer it to operate the destruction of the
best of subjects; what mischief may you not expect from such
power in a mere man, though the best of men, from whom the
truth is often industriously hidden, and to whom falsehood is
often presented in its place, by artful, interested, and malicious
courtiers?
And be cautious in trusting him even with limited powers,
lest sooner or later he sap and destroy those limits, and render
himself absolute.
For by the disposal of places, he attaches to himself all the
placeholders, with their numerous connexions, and also all the
expecters and hopers of places, which will form a strong party
in promoting his views. By various political engagements for
the interest of neighbouring states or princes, he procures their
aid in establishing his own personal power. So that, through the
hopes of emolument in one part of his subjects, and the fear of
his resentment in the other, all opposition falls before him.
[419]
PROPOSED NEW VERSION OF THE BIBLE[101]
[1779?]
To the Printer of***
Sir,
It is now more than one hundred and seventy years since the
translation of our common English Bible. The language in that
time is much changed, and the style, being obsolete, and thence
less agreeable, is perhaps one reason why the reading of that excellent
book is of late so much neglected. I have therefore
thought it would be well to procure a new version, in which,
preserving the sense, the turn of phrase and manner of expression
should be modern. I do not pretend to have the necessary
abilities for such a work myself; I throw out the hint for the consideration
of the learned; and only venture to send you a few
verses of the first chapter of Job, which may serve as a sample of
the kind of version I would recommend.
A. B.
PART OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF JOB MODERNIZED
Old Text |
New Version |
Verse 6. Now there was a
day when the sons of God
came to present themselves before
the Lord, and Satan came
also amongst them. |
Verse 6. And it being levée
day in heaven, all God's nobility
came to court, to present
themselves before him;
and Satan also appeared in the
circle, as one of the ministry. |
7. And the Lord said unto
Satan, Whence comest thou?
Then Satan answered the Lord,
and said, From going to and
fro in the earth, and from
walking up and down in it. |
7. And God said to Satan,
You have been some time absent;
where were you? And
Satan answered[,] I have been
at my country-seat, and in
different places visiting my
friends. |
8. And the Lord said unto
Satan, Hast thou considered
my servant Job, that there is
none like him in the earth, a
perfect and an upright man,
one that feareth God, and
escheweth evil? |
8. And God said, Well,
what think you of Lord Job?
[420]You see he is my best friend,
a perfectly honest man, full
of respect for me, and avoiding
every thing that might offend
me. |
9. Then Satan answered the
Lord, and said, Doth Job fear
God for naught? |
9. And Satan answered,
Does your Majesty imagine
that his good conduct is the
effect of mere personal attachment
and affection? |
10. Hast thou not made an
hedge about his house, and
about all that he hath on every
side? Thou hast blessed the
work of his hands, and his
substance is increased in the
land. |
10. Have you not protected
him, and heaped your benefits
upon him, till he is grown
enormously rich? |
11. But put forth thine
hand now, and touch all that
he hath, and he will curse thee
to thy face. |
11. Try him;—only withdraw
your favor, turn him out
of his places, and withhold his
pensions, and you will soon
find him in the opposition. |
TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
Passy, Feb. 8, 1780.
Dear Sir,
Your kind Letter of September 27 came to hand but very
lately, the Bearer having staied long in Holland. I always rejoice
to hear of your being still employ'd 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 [421]antediluvian
Standard. O 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![102]
I am glad my little Paper on the Aurora Borealis pleased. If
it should occasion further Enquiry, and so produce a better
Hypothesis, it will not be wholly useless. I am ever, with the
greatest and most sincere Esteem, dear Sir, yours very affectionately
B. Franklin.
TO GEORGE WASHINGTON
Passy, March 5, 1780.
Sir,
I have received but lately the Letter your Excellency did me
the honour of writing to me in Recommendation of the Marquis
de la Fayette. 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, impress'd 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 ancient and most famous
Kingdoms. You would, on this side of the Sea, enjoy the great
Reputation you have acquir'd, pure and free from those little
Shades that the Jealousy and Envy of a Man's Countrymen and
Cotemporaries are ever endeavouring to cast over living Merit.
Here you would know, and enjoy, what Posterity will say of
Washington. For 1000 Leagues have nearly the same Effect
with 1000 Years. 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[422]
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
nourish, 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 discolored, and which
in that weak State, by a Thunder Gust, of violent Wind, Hail,
and Rain, seem'd to be threaten'd with absolute Destruction;
yet the Storm being past, it recovers fresh Verdure, shoots up
with double Vigour, and delights the Eye, not of its Owner only,
but of every observing Traveller.[103]
The best Wishes that can be form'd for your Health, Honour,
and Happiness, ever attend you from your Excellency's most
obedient and most humble servant
B. F.
TO MISS GEORGIANA SHIPLEY
Passy, Oct. 8, 1780.
It is long, very long, my dear Friend, since I had the great
Pleasure of hearing from you, and receiving any of your very
pleasing Letters. But it is my fault. I have long omitted my
Part of the Correspondence. Those who love to receive Letters
should write Letters. I wish I could safely promise an Amendment
of that Fault. But, besides the Indolence attending Age,
and growing upon us with it, my Time is engross'd by too
much Business; and I have too many Inducements to postpone
doing, what I feel I ought to do for my own Sake, and what I
can never resolve to omit entirely.
Your Translations from Horace, as far as I can judge of
Poetry and Translations, are very good. That of the Quò, quò
ruitis? is so suitable to the Times, that the Conclusion, (in your
Version,) seems to threaten like a Prophecy; and methinks there
is at least some Appearance of Danger that it may be fulfilled.
I am unhappily an Enemy, yet I think there has been enough of[423]
Blood spilt, and I wish what is left in the Veins of that once
lov'd People, may be spared by a Peace solid and everlasting.
It is a great while since I have heard any thing of the good
Bishop. Strange, that so simple a Character should sufficiently
distinguish one of that sacred Body! Donnez-moi de ses Nouvelles.
I have been some time flatter'd with the Expectation of
seeing the Countenance of that most honoured and ever beloved
Friend, delineated by your Pencil. The Portrait is said to have
been long on the way, but is not yet arriv'd; nor can I hear where
it is.
Indolent as I have confess'd myself to be, I could not, you
see, miss this good and safe Opportunity of sending you a few
Lines, with my best Wishes for your Happiness, and that of the
whole dear and amiable Family in whose sweet Society I have
spent so many happy Hours. Mr. Jones[104] tells me, he shall
have a Pleasure in being the Bearer of my Letter, of which I
make no doubt. I learn from him, that to your Drawing, and
Music, and Painting, and Poetry, and Latin, you have added a
Proficiency in Chess, so that you are, as the French say, tout
plein de talens. May they and you fall to the Lot of one, that
shall duly value them, and love you as much as I do. Adieu.
B. F[ranklin].
TO RICHARD PRICE
Passy, Oct. 9, 1780.
Dear Sir,
Besides the Pleasure of their Company, I had the great Satisfaction
of hearing by your two valuable Friends, and learning
from your Letter, that you enjoy a good State of Health. May
God continue it, as well for the Good of Mankind as for your
Comfort. I thank you much for the second Edition of your excellent
Pamphlet.[105] I forwarded that you sent to Mr. Dana, he
being in Holland. I wish also to see the Piece you have written
(as Mr. Jones tells me) on Toleration. I do not expect that your
new Parliament will be either wiser or honester than the last.
All Projects to procure an honest one, by Place Bills, &c., appear
to me vain and Impracticable. The true Cure, I imagine, is to[424]
be found only in rendring all Places unprofitable, and the King
too poor to give Bribes and Pensions. Till this is done, which
can only be by a Revolution (and I think you have not Virtue
enough left to procure one), your Nation will always be plundered,
and obliged to pay by Taxes the Plunderers for Plundering
and Ruining. Liberty and Virtue therefore join in the call,
Come out of Her, my People!
I am fully of your Opinion respecting religious Tests; but,
tho' the People of Massachusetts have not in their new Constitution
kept quite clear of them, yet, if we consider what that
People were 100 Years ago, we must allow they have gone great
Lengths in Liberality of Sentiment on religious Subjects; and
we may hope for greater Degrees of Perfection, when their Constitution,
some years hence, shall be revised. If Christian
Preachers had continued to teach as Christ and his Apostles did,
without Salaries, and as the Quakers now do, I imagine Tests
would never have existed; for I think they were invented, not so
much to secure Religion itself, as the Emoluments of it. When
a Religion is good, I conceive that it will support itself; and,
when it cannot support itself, and God does not take care to
support, so that its Professors are oblig'd to call for the help of
the Civil Power, it is a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one.
But I shall be out of my Depth, if I wade any deeper in Theology,
and I will not trouble you with Politicks, nor with News
which are almost as uncertain; but conclude with a heartfelt
Wish to embrace you once more, and enjoy your sweet Society
in Peace, among our honest, worthy, ingenious Friends at the
London[106] Adieu,
B. Franklin.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT
Midnight, October 22, 1780.
Franklin. Eh! Oh! Eh! What have I done to merit these
cruel sufferings?
Gout. Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, and
too much indulged those legs of yours in their indolence.[425]
Franklin. Who is it that accuses me?
Gout. It is I, even I, the Gout.
Franklin. What! my enemy in person?
Gout. No, not your enemy.
Franklin. I repeat it; my enemy; for you would not only
torment my body to death, but ruin my good name; you reproach
me as a glutton and a tippler; now all the world, that
knows me, will allow that I am neither the one nor the other.
Gout. The world may think as it pleases; it is always very
complaisant to itself, and sometimes to its friends; but I very
well know that the quantity of meat and drink proper for a man,
who takes a reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much
for another, who never takes any.
Franklin. I take—Eh! Oh!—as much exercise—Eh!—as
I can, Madam Gout. You know my sedentary state, and on that
account, it would seem, Madam Gout, as if you might spare me
a little, seeing it is not altogether my own fault.
Gout. Not a jot; your rhetoric and your politeness are
thrown away; your apology avails nothing. If your situation in
life is a sedentary one, your amusements, your recreations, at
least, should be active. You ought to walk or ride; or, if the
weather prevents that play at billiards. But let us examine your
course of life. While the mornings are long, and you have leisure
to go abroad, what do you do? Why, instead of gaining an
appetite for breakfast, by salutary exercise, you amuse yourself,
with books, pamphlets, or newspapers, which commonly are
not worth the reading. Yet you eat an inordinate breakfast, four
dishes of tea, with cream, and one or two buttered toasts, with
slices of hung beef, which I fancy are not things the most easily
digested. Immediately afterward you sit down to write at your
desk, or converse with persons who apply to you on business.
Thus the time passes till one, without any kind of bodily exercise.
But all this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to your
sedentary condition. But what is your practice after dinner?
Walking in the beautiful gardens of those friends, with whom
you have dined, would be the choice of men of sense; yours is
to be fixed down to chess, where you are found engaged for two[426]
or three hours! This is your perpetual recreation, which is the
least eligible of any for a sedentary man, because, instead of
accelerating the motion of the fluids, the rigid attention it requires
helps to retard the circulation and obstruct internal secretions.
Wrapt in the speculations of this wretched game, you
destroy your constitution. What can be expected from such a
course of living, but a body replete with stagnant humours,
ready to fall a prey to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the
Gout, did not occasionally bring you relief by agitating those
humours, and so purifying or dissipating them? If it was in
some nook or alley in Paris, deprived of walks, that you played
awhile at chess after dinner, this might be excusable; but the
same taste prevails with you in Passy, Auteuil, Montmartre, or
Sanoy, places where there are the finest gardens and walks, a
pure air, beautiful women, and most agreeable and instructive
conversation; all which you might enjoy by frequenting the
walks. But these are rejected for this abominable game of chess.
Fie, then Mr. Franklin! But amidst my instructions, I had almost
forgot to administer my wholesome corrections; so take
that twinge,—and that.
Franklin. Oh! Eh! Oh! Ohhh! As much instruction as you
please, Madam Gout, and as many reproaches; but pray, Madam,
a truce with your corrections!
Gout. No, Sir, no,—I will not abate a particle of what is so
much for your good,—therefore—
Franklin. Oh! Ehhh!—It is not fair to say I take no exercise,
when I do very often, going out to dine and returning in
my carriage.
Gout. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most slight and
insignificant, if you allude to the motion of a carriage suspended
on springs. By observing the degree of heat obtained by different
kinds of motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity
of exercise given by each. Thus, for example, if you turn out to
walk in winter with cold feet, in an hour's time you will be in a
glow all over; ride on horseback, the same effect will scarcely be
perceived by four hours' round trotting; but if you loll in a carriage,
such as you have mentioned, you may travel all day, and[427]
gladly enter the last inn to warm your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself
then no longer, that half an hour's airing in your carriage
deserves the name of exercise. Providence has appointed few
to roll in carriages, while he has given to all a pair of legs, which
are machines infinitely more commodious and serviceable. Be
grateful, then, and make a proper use of yours. Would you
know how they forward the circulation of your fluids, in the
very action of transporting you from place to place; observe
when you walk, that all your weight is alternately thrown from
one leg to the other; this occasions a great pressure on the vessels
of the foot, and repels their contents; when relieved, by the
weight being thrown on the other foot, the vessels of the first
are allowed to replenish, and, by a return of this weight, this repulsion
again succeeds; thus accelerating the circulation of the
blood. The heat produced in any given time, depends on the
degree of this acceleration; the fluids are shaken, the humours
attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all goes well; the
cheeks are ruddy, and health is established. Behold your fair
friend at Auteuil;[107] a lady who received from bounteous nature
more really useful science, than half a dozen such pretenders to
philosophy as you have been able to extract from all your books.
When she honours you with a visit, it is on foot. She walks all
hours of the day, and leaves indolence, and its concomitant
maladies, to be endured by her horses. In this see at once the
preservative of her health and personal charms. But when you
go to Auteuil, you must have your carriage, though it is no
further from Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy.
Franklin. Your reasonings grow very tiresome.
Gout. I stand corrected. I will be silent and continue my
office; take that, and that.
Franklin. Oh! Ohh! Talk on, I pray you!
Gout. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you to-night,
and you may be sure of some more to-morrow.
Franklin. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted.
Oh! Eh! Can no one bear it for me?
Gout. Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.[428]
Franklin. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?
Gout. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of
offences against your own health distinctly written, and can
justify every stroke inflicted on you.
Franklin. Read it then.
Gout. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some
particulars.
Franklin. Proceed. I am all attention.
Gout. Do you remember how often you have promised
yourself, the following morning, a walk in the grove of Boulogne,
in the garden de la Muette, or in your own garden, and
have violated your promise, alleging, at one time, it was too
cold, at another too warm, too windy, too moist, or what else
you pleased; when in truth it was too nothing, but your insuperable
love of ease?
Franklin. That I confess may have happened occasionally,
probably ten times in a year.
Gout. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the
gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times.
Franklin. Is it possible?
Gout. So possible, that it is fact; you may rely on the accuracy
of my statement. You know M. Brillon's gardens, and what
fine walks they contain; you know the handsome flight of an
hundred steps, which lead from the terrace above to the lawn
below. You have been in the practice of visiting this amiable
family twice a week, after dinner, and it is a maxim of your own,
that "a man may take as much exercise in walking a mile, up and
down stairs, as in ten on level ground." What an opportunity
was here for you to have had exercise in both these ways! Did
you embrace it, and how often?
Franklin. I cannot immediately answer that question.
Gout. I will do it for you; not once.
Franklin. Not once?
Gout. Even so. During the summer you went there at six
o'clock. You found the charming lady, with her lovely children
and friends, eager to walk with you, and entertain you with their
agreeable conversation; and what has been your choice? Why[429]
to sit on the terrace, satisfying yourself with the fine prospect,
and passing your eye over the beauties of the garden below,
without taking one step to descend and walk about in them. On
the contrary, you call for tea and the chess-board; and lo! you
are occupied in your seat till nine o'clock, and that besides two
hours' play after dinner; and then, instead of walking home,
which would have bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage.
How absurd to suppose that all this carelessness can be
reconcilable with health, without my interposition!
Franklin. I am convinced now of the justness of poor
Richard's remark, that "Our debts and our sins are always
greater than we think for."
Gout. So it is. You philosophers are sages in your maxims,
and fools in your conduct.
Franklin. But do you charge among my crimes, that I return
in a carriage from Mr. Brillon's?
Gout. Certainly; for, having been seated all the while, you
cannot object the fatigue of the day, and cannot want therefore
the relief of a carriage.
Franklin. What then would you have me do with my carriage?
Gout. Burn it if you choose; you would at least get heat out
of it once in this way; or, if you dislike that proposal, here's another
for you; observe the poor peasants, who work in the
vineyards and grounds about the villages of Passy, Auteuil,
Chaillot, &c.; you may find every day, among these deserving
creatures, four or five old men and women, bent and perhaps
crippled by weight of years, and too long and too great labour.
After a most fatiguing day, these people have to trudge a mile or
two to their smoky huts. Order your coachman to set them
down. This is an act that will be good for your soul; and, at the
same time, after your visit to the Brillons, if you return on foot,
that will be good for your body.
Franklin. Ah! how tiresome you are!
Gout. Well, then, to my office; it should not be forgotten
that I am your physician. There.
Franklin. Ohhh! what a devil of a physician![430]
Gout. How ungrateful you are to say so! Is it not I who, in
the character of your physician, have saved you from the palsy,
dropsy, and apoplexy? one or other of which would have done
for you long ago, but for me.
Franklin. I submit, and thank you for the past, but entreat
the discontinuance of your visits for the future; for, in my mind,
one had better die than be cured so dolefully. Permit me just to
hint, that I have also not been unfriendly to you. I never feed
physician or quack of any kind, to enter the list against you; if
then you do not leave me to my repose, it may be said you are
ungrateful too.
Gout. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any objection. As
to quacks, I despise them; they may kill you indeed, but cannot
injure me. And, as to regular physicians, they are at last convinced
that the gout, in such a subject as you are, is no disease,
but a remedy; and wherefore cure a remedy?—but to our business,—there.
Franklin. Oh! oh!—for Heaven's sake leave me! and I
promise faithfully never more to play at chess, but to take exercise daily,
and live temperately.
Gout. I know you too well. You promise fair; but, after a
few months of good health, you will return to your old habits;
your fine promises will be forgotten like the forms of last year's
clouds. Let us then finish the account, and I will go. But I leave
you with an assurance of visiting you again at a proper time
and place; for my object is your good, and you are sensible now
that I am your real friend.
THE HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG[108]
[1780?]
There are two Sorts of People in the World, who with equal
Degrees of Health, & 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.[431]
In whatever Situation Men can be plac'd, they may find Conveniencies
& Inconveniencies: In whatever Company; they may
find Persons & Conversation more or less pleasing. At whatever
Table, they may meet with Meats & Drinks of better and
worse Taste, Dishes better & worse dress'd: In whatever Climate
they will find good and bad Weather: Under whatever
Government, they may find good & bad Laws, and good &
bad Administration of those Laws. In every Poem or Work of
Genius they may see Faults and Beauties. In almost every Face
& every Person, they may discover fine Features & Defects,
good & bad Qualities.
Under these Circumstances, the two Sorts of People above
mention'd fix their Attention, those who are to be happy, on the
Conveniencies of Things, the pleasant Parts of Conversation,
the well-dress'd Dishes, the Goodness of the Wines, the fine
Weather; &c., and enjoy all with Chearfulness. Those who are
to be unhappy, think & 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 disagreable. 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,
& be disgusted, is perhaps taken up originally by Imitation,
and is unawares grown into a Habit, which tho' at present strong
may nevertheless be cured when those who have it are convinc'd
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 tho' 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, & nobody well 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[432]
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, & took no notice of the
handsome Leg, that was sufficient to determine my Philosopher
to have no further Acquaintance with him. Every body has not
this two-legged Instrument, but every one with a little Attention,
may observe Signs of that carping, fault-finding Disposition,
& 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 belov'd by others, & happy in themselves they
should leave off looking at the ugly Leg.
TO MISS GEORGIANA SHIPLEY[109]
... Must now be next its End, as I have compleated my 75th
Year I could wish to see my dear Friends of your Family once
more before I withdraw, but I see no Prospect of enjoying
that Felicity. Let me at least have that of hearing from you a
little oftener.
I do not understand the Coldness you mention of the Nights
in the Desert. I never before heard of such an Observation. If[433]
you have learnt what was the Degree of cold and how it was
observed, and what Difference between the Night and the Day,
you will oblige me by communicating it. I like to see that you
retain a Taste for Philosophical Enquiries.
I recd also your very kind Letter by Made —— [illegible in
MS], with whom and the Princess, her Mother, I am much
pleased; tho' I have not seen them so often as I wished, living as
I do out of Paris.
I am glad to hear that you all pass'd the summer so agreably
in Wales, and I felicitate you as the French say, on the Increase
of your Brother's Family.
Accept my Thanks for your Friendly Verses and good Wishes.
How many Talents you possess! Painting, Poetry, Languages,
etc., etc. All valuable, but your good Heart is worth
the whole.
Your mention of the Summer House brings fresh to my mind
all the Pleasures I enjoyed in the sweet Retreat at Twyford: the
Hours of agreable and instructive Conversation with the amiable
Family at Table; with its Father alone; the delightful Walks
in the Gardens and neighbouring Grounds. Pleasures past and
gone forever! Since I have had your Father's Picture I am
grown more covetous of the rest; every time I look at your second
Drawing I have regretted that you have not given to your
Juno the Face of Anna Maria, to Venus that of Emily or Betsey,
and to Cupid that of Emily's Child, as it would have cost you
but little more Trouble. I must, however, beg that you will
make me up a compleat Set of your little Profiles, which are
more easily done. You formerly obliged me with that of the
Father, an excellent one. Let me also have that of the good
Mother, and of all the Children. It will help me to fancy myself
among you, and to enjoy more perfectly in Idea, the Pleasure of
your Society. My little Fellow-Traveller, the sprightly Hetty,
with whose sensible Prattle I was so much entertained, why
does she not write to me? If Paris affords any thing that any of
you wish to have, mention it. You will oblige me. It affords
everything but Peace! Ah! when shall we again enjoy that
Blessing![434]
Next to seeing our Friends is the Pleasure of hearing from
them, and learning how they live. Your Accounts of your Journies
and how you pass your Summers please me much. I flatter
myself you will like to know something of the same kind relating
to me. I inhabit, a clean, well-built Village situate on a Hill, in a
fine Air, with a beautiful Prospect, about 2 Miles [Incomplete.]
TO DAVID HARTLEY
Passy, December 15, 1781.
My Dear Friend,
I received your favour of September 26th,[110] containing your
very judicious proposition of securing the spectators in the
opera and play houses from the danger of fire. I communicated
it where I thought it might be useful. You will see by the enclosed,
that the subject has been under consideration here. Your
concern for the security of life, even the lives of your enemies,
does honour to your heart and your humanity. But what are
the lives of a few idle haunters of play houses, compared with
the many thousands of worthy men, and honest industrious
families, butchered and destroyed by this devilish war? Oh
that we could find some happy invention to stop the spreading
of the flames, and put an end to so horrid a conflagration! Adieu,
I am ever yours most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
SUPPLEMENT TO THE BOSTON
INDEPENDENT CHRONICLE[111]
Numb. 705
Boston, March 12, 1782.
Extract of a Letter from Captain Gerrish, of the New England
Militia, dated Albany, March 7.
The Peltry taken in the Expedition [see the Account of the
Expedition to Oswegatchie, on the River St. Laurence, in our
Paper of the 1st Instant,] will, as you see, amount to a good
deal of Money. The Possession of this Booty at first gave us[435]
Pleasure; but we were struck with Horror to find among the
Packages 8 large ones, containing SCALPS of our unhappy
Country-folks, taken in the three last Years by the Senneka
Indians from the Inhabitants of the Frontiers of New York,
New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, and sent by them as a
Present to Col. Haldimand, governor of Canada, in order to be
by him transmitted to England. They were accompanied by
the following curious Letter to that Gentleman.
"Teoga, Jan. 3d, 1782.
"May it please your Excellency,
"At the Request of the Senneka chiefs, I send herewith to
your Excellency, under the Care of James Boyd, eight Packs of
Scalps, cured, dried, hooped, and painted, with all the Indian
triumphal Marks, of which the following is Invoice and Explanation.
"No. 1. Containing 43 Scalps of Congress Soldiers, killed
in different Skirmishes; these are Stretched on black Hoops,
4 Inches diameter; the Inside of the Skin painted red, with a
small black Spot to note their being killed with Bullets. Also
62 of Farmers killed in their Houses; the Hoops red; the Skin
painted brown, and marked with a Hoe; a black Circle all round,
to denote their being surprised in the Night; and a black Hatchet
in the Middle, signifying their being killed with that Weapon.
"No. 2. Containing 98 of Farmers killed in their Houses;
Hoops red; Figure of a Hoe, to mark their Profession; great
white Circle and Sun, to show they were surprised in the Daytime;
a little red Foot, to show they stood upon their Defence,
and died fighting for their Lives and Families.
"No. 3. Containing 97 of Farmers; Hoops green, to shew
they were killed in their Fields; a large white Circle with a little
round Mark on it for the Sun, to shew that it was in the Daytime;
black Bullet-mark on some, Hatchet on others.
"No. 4. Containing 102 of Farmers, mixed of the several
Marks above; only 18 marked with a little yellow Flame, to
denote their being of Prisoners burnt alive, after being scalped,
their Nails pulled out by the Roots, and other Torments; one[436]
of these latter supposed to be a rebel Clergyman, his Band being
fixed to the Hoop of his Scalp. Most of the Farmers appear by
the Hair to have been young or middle-aged Men; there being
but 67 very grey Heads among them all; which makes the Service
more essential.
"No. 5. Containing 88 Scalps of Women; hair long, braided
in the Indian Fashion, to shew they were Mothers; Hoops blue;
Skin yellow Ground, with little red Tadpoles, to represent, by
way of Triumph, the Tears of Grief occasioned to their Relations;
a black scalping-Knife or Hatchet at the Bottom, to mark
their being killed with those Instruments. 17 others, Hair very
grey; black Hoops; plain brown Colour; no Mark, but the short
Club or Casse-tête, to shew they were knocked down dead, or
had their Brains beat out.
"No. 6. Containing 193 Boys' Scalps, of various Ages; small
green Hoops; whitish Ground on the Skin, with red Tears in
the Middle, and black Bullet-marks, Knife, Hatchet, or Club,
as their Deaths happened.
"No. 7. 211 Girls' Scalps, big and little; small yellow Hoops;
white Ground, Tears; Hatchet, Club, scalping-Knife, &c.
"No. 8. This Package is a Mixture of all the Varieties abovementioned;
to the number of 122; with a Box of Birch Bark,
containing 29 little Infants' Scalps of various Sizes; small white
Hoops; white Ground; no Tears; and only a little black Knife
in the Middle, to shew they were ript out of their Mothers'
Bellies.
"With these Packs, the Chiefs send to your Excellency the
following Speech, delivered by Conejogatchie in Council,
interpreted by the elder Moore, the Trader, and taken down by
me in Writing.
Father,
We send you herewith many Scalps, that you may see we
are not idle Friends.
A blue Belt.
Father,
We wish you to send these Scalps over the Water to the great[437]
King, that he may regard them and be refreshed; and that he
may see our faithfulness in destroying his Enemies, and be convinced
that his Presents have not been made to ungrateful
people.
A blue and white Belt with red Tassels.
Father,
Attend to what I am now going to say; it is a Matter of much
Weight. The great King's Enemies are many, and they grow
fast in Number. They were formerly like young Panthers; they
could neither bite nor scratch; we could play with them safely;
we feared nothing they could do to us. But now their Bodies
are become big as the Elk, and strong as the Buffalo; they have
also got great and sharp Claws. They have driven us out of
our Country for taking part in your Quarrel. We expect the
great King will give us another Country, that our Children may
live after us, and be his Friends and Children, as we are. Say
this for us to the great King. To enforce it, we give this Belt.
A great white Belt with blue Tassels.
Father,
We have only to say farther, that your Traders exact more
than ever for their Goods; and our hunting is lessened by the
War, so that we have fewer Skins to give for them. This ruins
us. Think of some Remedy. We are poor; and you have
Plenty of every Thing. We know you will send us Powder
and Guns, and Knives and Hatchets; but we also want Shirts
and Blankets.
A little white Belt.
"I do not doubt but that your Excellency will think it proper
to give some farther Encouragement to those honest People.
The high Prices they complain of are the necessary Effect of the
War. Whatever Presents may be sent for them, through my
Hands, shall be distributed with Prudence and Fidelity. I have
the Honour of being your Excellency's most obedient
"And most humble Servant,
James Craufurd."
[438]
It was at first proposed to bury these Scalps; but Lieutenant
Fitzgerald, who, you know, has got Leave of Absence to go to
Ireland on his private Affairs, said he thought it better they
should proceed to their Destination; and if they were given to
him, he would undertake to carry them to England, and hang
them all up in some dark Night on the Trees in St. James's Park,
where they could be seen from the King and Queen's Palaces
in the Morning; for that the Sight of them might perhaps strike
Muley Ishmael (as he called him) with some Compunction of
Conscience. They were accordingly delivered to Fitz, and he
has brought them safe hither. To-morrow they go with his
Baggage in a Waggon for Boston, and will probably be there in
a few Days after this Letter.
I am, &c.
Samuel Gerrish.
Boston, March 20.
Monday last arrived here Lieutenant Fitzgerald above mentioned,
and Yesterday the Waggon with the Scalps. Thousands
of People are flocking to see them this Morning, and all Mouths
are full of Execrations. Fixing them to the Trees is not approved.
It is now proposed to make them up in decent little
Packets, seal and direct them; one to the King, containing a
Sample of every Sort for his Museum; one to the Queen, with
some of Women and little Children; the Rest to be distributed
among both Houses of Parliament; a double Quantity to the
Bishops.
[The following part appeared in a second edition from which
certain advertisements which had been published in the first
edition were omitted.]
Mr. Willis,
Please to insert in your useful Paper the following Copy of
a Letter from Commodore Jones, directed
[439]
TO SIR JOSEPH YORK, AMBASSADOR FROM THE KING OF ENGLAND
TO THE STATES-GENERAL OF THE UNITED PROVINCES
"Ipswich, New England, March 7, 1781.
"Sir,
"I have lately seen a memorial, said to have been presented
by your Excellency to their High Mightinesses the States-general,
in which you are pleased to qualify me with the title of
pirate.
"A pirate is defined to be hostis humani generis [an enemy to
all mankind]. It happens, Sir, that I am an enemy to no part of
mankind, except your nation, the English; which nation at the
same time comes much more within the definition, being actually
an enemy to, and at war with, one whole quarter of the
world, America, considerable part of Asia and Africa, a great
part of Europe, and in a fair way of being at war with the rest.
"A pirate makes war for the sake of rapine. This is not the
kind of war I am engaged in against England. Ours is a war in
defence of liberty ... the most just of all wars; and of our properties,
which your nation would have taken from us, without
our consent, in violation of our rights, and by an armed force.
Yours, therefore is a war of rapine; of course, a piratical war;
and those who approve of it, and are engaged in it, more justly
deserve the name of pirates, which you bestow on me. It is,
indeed, a war that coincides with the general spirit of your nation.
Your common people in their ale-houses sing the twenty-four
songs of Robin Hood, and applaud his deer-stealing and
his robberies on the highway: those, who have just learning
enough to read, are delighted with your histories of the pirates
and of the buccaniers; and even your scholars in the universities
study Quintus Curtius, and are taught to admire Alexander for
what they call 'his conquests in the Indies.' Severe laws and the
hangmen keep down the effects of this spirit somewhat among
yourselves (though in your little Island you have nevertheless
more highway robberies than there are in all the rest of Europe
put together); but a foreign war gives it full scope. It is then
that, with infinite pleasure, it lets itself loose to strip of their[440]
property honest merchants, employed in the innocent and useful
occupation of supplying the mutual wants of mankind.
Hence, having lately no war with your ancient enemies, rather
than be without a war, you chose to make one upon your
friends. In this your piratical war with America, the mariners
of your fleets and the owners of your privateers were animated
against us by the act of your Parliament, which repealed the law
of God, 'Thou shalt not steal,' by declaring it lawful for them
to rob us of all our property that they could meet with on the
ocean. This act, too, had a retrospect, and, going beyond bulls
of pardon, declared that all the robberies you had committed
previous to the act should be deemed just and lawful. Your
soldiers, too, were promised the plunder of our cities; and your
officers were flattered with the division of our lands. You had
even the baseness to corrupt our servants, the sailors employed
by us, and encourage them to rob their masters and bring to you
the ships and goods they were entrusted with. Is there any
society of pirates on the sea or land, who, in declaring wrong
to be right, and right wrong, have less authority than your
parliament? Do any of them more justly than your parliament
deserve the title you bestow on me?
"You will tell me that we forfeited all our estates by our refusal
to pay the taxes your nation would have imposed on us
without the consent of our colony parliaments. Have you then
forgotten the incontestable principle, which was the foundation
of Hambden's glorious lawsuit with Charles the first, that 'what
an English king has no right to demand, an English subject has
a right to refuse'? But you cannot so soon have forgotten the
instructions of your late honorable father, who, being himself
a sound Whig, taught you certainly the principles of the Revolution,
and that, 'if subjects might in some cases forfeit their
property, kings also might forfeit their title, and all claim to the
allegiance of their subjects.' I must then suppose you well
acquainted with those Whig principles; on which permit me,
Sir, to ask a few questions.
"Is not protection as justly due from a king to his people, as
obedience from the people to their king?[441]
"If then a king declares his people to be out of his protection:
"If he violates and deprives them of their constitutional
rights:
"If he wages war against them:
"If he plunders their merchants, ravages their coasts, burns
their towns, and destroys their lives:
"If he hires foreign mercenaries to help him in their destruction:
"If he engages savages to murder their defenceless farmers,
women, and children:
"If he cruelly forces such of his subjects as fall into his hands,
to bear arms against their country, and become executioners of
their friends and brethren:
"If he sells others of them into bondage, in Africa and the
East Indies:
"If he excites domestic insurrections among their servants,
and encourages servants to murder their masters:—
"Does not so atrocious a conduct towards his subjects dissolve
their allegiance?
"If not, please to say how or by what means it can possibly
be dissolved?
"All this horrible wickedness and barbarity has been and
daily is practised by the King, your master, (as you call him in
your memorial,) upon the Americans, whom he is still pleased
to claim as his subjects.
"During these six years past, he has destroyed not less than
forty thousand of those subjects, by battles on land or sea, or
by starving them, or poisoning them to death, in the unwholesome
air, with the unwholesome food of his prisons. And he
has wasted the lives of at least an equal number of his own soldiers
and sailors: many of whom have been forced into this
odious service, and dragged from their families and friends, by
the outrageous violence of his illegal press-gangs. You are a
gentleman of letters, and have read history: do you recollect
any instance of any tyrant, since the beginning of the world,
who, in the course of so few years, had done so much mischief,
by murdering so many of his own people? Let us view one of[442]
the worst and blackest of them, Nero. He put to death a few
of his courtiers, placemen, and pensioners, and among the rest
his tutor. Had George the Third done the same, and no more,
his crime, though detestable, as an act of lawless power, might
have been as useful to his nation, as that of Nero was hurtful to
Rome; considering the different characters and merits of the
sufferers. Nero indeed wished that the people of Rome had but
one neck, that he might behead them all by one stroke; but this
was a simple wish. George is carrying the wish as fast as he can
into execution; and, by continuing in his present course a few
years longer, will have destroyed more of the British people
than Nero could have found inhabitants in Rome. Hence the
expression of Milton, in speaking of Charles the First, that he
was 'Nerone Neronior,' is still more applicable to George the
third. Like Nero, and all other tyrants, while they lived, he indeed
has his flatterers, his addressers, his applauders. Pensions,
places, and hopes of preferment can bribe even bishops to approve
his conduct: but when those fulsome, purchased addresses
and panegyrics are sunk and lost in oblivion or contempt, impartial
history will step forth, speak honest truth, and rank him
among public calamities. The only difference will be, that
plagues, pestilences, and famines are of this world, and arise
from the nature of things; but voluntary malice, mischief, and
murder, are from hell; and this King will, therefore, stand foremost
in the list of diabolical, bloody, and execrable tyrants.
His base-bought parliaments too, who sell him their souls, and
extort from the people the money with which they aid his
destructive purposes, as they share his guilt, will share his
infamy,—parliaments, who, to please him, have repeatedly, by
different votes year after year, dipped their hands in human
blood, insomuch that methinks I see it dried and caked so thick
upon them, that, if they could wash it off in the Thames, which
flows under their windows, the whole river would run red to
the ocean.
"One is provoked by enormous wickedness: but one is
ashamed and humiliated at the view of human baseness. It
afflicts me, therefore, to see a gentleman of Sir Joseph York's[443]
education and talents, for the sake of a red riband and a paltry
stipend, mean enough to style such a monster his master, wear
his livery, and hold himself ready at his command even to cut
the throats of fellow subjects. This makes it impossible for me
to end my letter with the civility of a compliment, and obliges
me to subscribe myself simply,
"John Paul Jones,
"Whom you are pleased to style a pirate."
TO JOHN THORNTON
Passy, May 8, 1782.
Sir,
I received the letter you did me the honour of writing to me,
and am much obliged by your kind present of a book. The
relish for reading of poetry had long since left me, but there is
something so new in the manner, so easy, and yet so correct in
the language, so clear in the expression, yet concise, and so just
in the sentiments, that I have read the whole with great pleasure,
and some of the pieces more than once. I beg you to accept my
thankful acknowledgments, and to present my respects to the
author.[112]
I shall take care to forward the letters to America, and shall
be glad of any other opportunity of doing what may be agreeable
to you, being with great respect for your character,—Your
most obedient humble servant,
B. Franklin.
TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
Passy near Paris, June 7, 1782.
Dear Sir,
I received your kind Letter of the 7th of 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[444]
the Leisure to search with you into the Works of Nature;
I mean the inanimate, not the animate or moral part of them,
the more I discover'd of the former, the more I admir'd 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 provok'd than reconcil'd,
more disposed to do Mischief to each other than to make
Reparation, much more easily deceiv'd than undeceiv'd, and
having more Pride and even Pleasure in killing than in begetting
one another; for without a Blush they assemble in great armies
at NoonDay to destroy, and when they have kill'd as many as
they can, they exaggerate the Number to augment the fancied
Glory; but they creep into Corners, or cover themselves with
the Darkness of night, when they mean to beget, as being
asham'd of a virtuous Action. A virtuous Action it would be,
and a vicious one the killing of them, if the Species were really
worth producing or preserving; but of this I begin to doubt.
I know you have no such Doubts, because, in your zeal for
their welfare, you are taking a great deal of pains to save their
Souls. Perhaps as you grow older, you may look upon this as
a hopeless Project, or an idle Amusement, repent of having
murdered in mephitic air so many honest, harmless mice, and
wish that to prevent mischief, you had used Boys and Girls
instead of them. 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 of
Distinction being sent down to this world on some Business,
for the first time, had an old courier-spirit assigned him as a
Guide. They arriv'd over the Seas of Martinico, in the middle
of the long Day of obstinate Fight between the Fleets of Rodney
and De Grasse. When, thro' 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 turn'd angrily to his Guide, and said,
"You blundering Blockhead, you are ignorant of your Business;[445]
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 happen'd, 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.
I show'd your letter to the Duke de Larochefoucault, who
thinks with me, the new Experiments you have made are extremely
curious; and he has given me thereupon a Note, which
I inclose, and I request you would furnish me with the answer
desired.
Yesterday the Count du Nord 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 a 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,
B. Franklin.
TO JONATHAN SHIPLEY
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 enrag'd by the ill success
of their distracted Projects.[446]
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 enjoy'd at Twyford, 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 obtain'd 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.
You ask if I still relish my old Studies. I relish them, but I
cannot pursue them. My Time is engross'd unhappily with
other Concerns. I requested of the Congress last Year my
Discharge from this publick Station, that I might enjoy a little
Leisure in the Evening of a long Life of Business; but it was
refus'd 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 detain'd from me at
1000 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 plac'd 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 oblig'd
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.
[447]
TO JAMES HUTTON
Passy, July 7, 1782.
My Old and Dear Friend,
A Letter written by you to M. Berlin,[113] Ministre d'Etat,
containing an Account of the abominable Murders committed
by some of the frontier People on the poor Moravian Indians,
has given me infinite Pain and Vexation. The Dispensations of
Providence in this World puzzle my weak Reason. I cannot
comprehend why cruel Men should have been permitted thus
to destroy their Fellow Creatures. Some of the Indians may
be suppos'd to have committed Sins, but one cannot think the
little Children had committed any worthy of Death. Why has
a single Man in England, who happens to love Blood and to
hate Americans, been permitted to gratify that bad Temper by
hiring German Murderers, and joining them with his own, to
destroy in a continued Course of bloody Years near 100,000
human Creatures, many of them possessed of useful Talents,
Virtues and Abilities to which he has no Pretension! It is he
who has furnished the Savages with Hatchets and Scalping
Knives, and engages them to fall upon our defenceless Farmers,
and murder them with their Wives and Children, paying for
their Scalps, of which the account kept in America already
amounts, as I have heard, to near two Thousand!
Perhaps the people of the frontiers, exasperated by the
Cruelties of the Indians, have been induced to kill all Indians
that fall into their Hands without Distinction; so that even
these horrid Murders of our poor Moravians may be laid to his
Charge. And yet this Man lives, enjoys all the good Things
this World can afford, and is surrounded by Flatterers, who
keep even his Conscience quiet by telling him he is the best of
Princes! I wonder at this, but I cannot therefore part with the
comfortable Belief of a Divine Providence; and the more I see
the Impossibility, from the number & extent of his Crimes, of
giving equivalent Punishment to a wicked Man in this Life, the
more I am convinc'd of a future State, in which all that here
appears to be wrong shall be set right, all that is crooked made[448]
straight. In this Faith let you & I, my dear Friend, comfort
ourselves; it is the only Comfort, in the present dark Scene of
Things, that is allow'd us.
I shall not fail to write to the Government of America, urging
that effectual Care may be taken to protect & save the Remainder
of those unhappy People.
Since writing the above, I have received a Philadelphia Paper,
containing some Account of the same horrid Transaction, a
little different, and some Circumstances alledged as Excuses or
Palliations, but extreamly weak & insufficient. I send it to you
inclos'd. With great and sincere Esteem, I am ever, my dear
Friend, yours most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS[114]
Passy, Sept. 9, 1782.
Dear Sir,
I have just received the very kind friendly Letter you were
so good as to write to me by Dr. Broussonnet.[115] Be assured,
that I long earnestly for a Return of those peaceful Times, when
I could sit down in sweet Society with my English philosophic
Friends, communicating to each other new Discoveries, and
proposing Improvements of old ones; all tending to extend the
Power of Man over Matter, avert or diminish the Evils he is
subject to, or augment the Number of his Enjoyments. Much
more happy should I be thus employ'd in your most desirable
Company, than in that of all the Grandees of the Earth projecting
Plans of Mischief, however necessary they may be supposed
for obtaining greater Good.
I am glad to learn by the Dr that your great Work goes on.
I admire your Magnanimity in the Undertaking, and the Perseverance
with which you have prosecuted it.
I join with you most perfectly in the charming Wish you so
well express, "that such Measures may be taken by both Parties
as may tend to the Elevation of both, rather than the Destruction
of either." If any thing has happened endangering one of[449]
them, my Comfort is, that I endeavour'd earnestly to prevent
it, and gave honest, faithful Advice, which, if it had been regarded,
would have been effectual. And still, if proper Means
are us'd to produce, not only a Peace, but what is much more
interesting, a thorough Reconciliation, a few Years may heal
the Wounds that have been made in our Happiness, and produce
a Degree of Prosperity of which at present we can hardly form
a Conception. With great and sincere Esteem and Respect, I
am, dear Sir, &c.
B. Franklin.
INFORMATION
TO THOSE WHO WOULD REMOVE TO AMERICA[116]
[1782?]
Many Persons in Europe, having directly or by Letters, express'd
to the Writer of this, who is well acquainted with North
America, their Desire of transporting and establishing themselves
in that Country; but who appear to have formed, thro'
Ignorance, mistaken Ideas and Expectations of what is to be
obtained there; he thinks it may be useful, and prevent inconvenient,
expensive, and fruitless Removals and Voyages of
improper Persons, if he gives some clearer and truer Notions
of that part of the World, than appear to have hitherto prevailed.
He finds it is imagined by Numbers, that the Inhabitants of
North America are rich, capable of rewarding, and dispos'd to
reward, all sorts of Ingenuity; that they are at the same time
ignorant of all the Sciences, and, consequently, that Strangers,
possessing Talents in the Belles-Lettres, fine Arts, &c., must be
highly esteemed, and so well paid, as to become easily rich
themselves; that there are also abundance of profitable Offices
to be disposed of, which the Natives are not qualified to fill;
and that, having few Persons of Family among them, Strangers
of Birth must be greatly respected, and of course easily obtain
the best of those Offices, which will make all their Fortunes;
that the Governments too, to encourage Emigrations from[450]
Europe, not only pay the Expence of personal Transportation,
but give Lands gratis to Strangers, with Negroes to work for
them, Utensils of Husbandry, and Stocks of Cattle. These are
all wild Imaginations; and those who go to America with Expectations
founded upon them will surely find themselves disappointed.
The Truth is, that though there are in that Country few
People so miserable as the Poor of Europe, there are also very
few that in Europe would be called rich; it is rather a general
happy Mediocrity that prevails. There are few great Proprietors
of the Soil, and few Tenants; most People cultivate their own
Lands, or follow some Handicraft or Merchandise; very few
rich enough to live idly upon their Rents or Incomes, or to pay
the high Prices given in Europe for Paintings, Statues, Architecture,
and the other Works of Art, that are more curious than
useful. Hence the natural Geniuses, that have arisen in America
with such Talents, have uniformly quitted that Country for
Europe, where they can be more suitably rewarded. It is true,
that Letters and Mathematical Knowledge are in Esteem there,
but they are at the same time more common than is apprehended;
there being already existing nine Colleges or Universities,
viz. four in New England, and one in each of the Provinces
of New York, New Jersey, Pensilvania, Maryland, and
Virginia, all furnish'd with learned Professors; besides a number
of smaller Academies; these educate many of their Youth in the
Languages, and those Sciences that qualify men for the Professions
of Divinity, Law, or Physick. Strangers indeed are by
no means excluded from exercising those Professions; and the
quick Increase of Inhabitants everywhere gives them a Chance
of Employ, which they have in common with the Natives. Of
civil Offices, or Employments, there are few; no superfluous
Ones, as in Europe; and it is a Rule establish'd in some of the
States, that no Office should be so profitable as to make it
desirable. The 36th Article of the Constitution of Pennsilvania,
runs expressly in these Words; "As every Freeman, to preserve
his Independence, (if he has not a sufficient Estate) ought to
have some Profession, Calling, Trade, or Farm, whereby he[451]
may honestly subsist, there can be no Necessity for, nor Use in,
establishing Offices of Profit, the usual Effects of which are
Dependance and Servility, unbecoming Freemen, in the Possessors
and Expectants; Faction, Contention, Corruption, and
Disorder among the People. Wherefore, whenever an Office,
thro' Increase of Fees or otherwise, becomes so profitable, as to
occasion many to apply for it, the Profits ought to be lessened
by the Legislature."
These Ideas prevailing more or less in all the United States,
it cannot be worth any Man's while, who has a means of Living
at home, to expatriate himself, in hopes of obtaining a profitable
civil Office in America; and, as to military Offices, they are at
an End with the War, the Armies being disbanded. Much less
is it adviseable for a Person to go thither, who has no other
Quality to recommend him but his Birth. In Europe it has
indeed its Value; but it is a Commodity that cannot be carried
to a worse Market than that of America, where people do not
inquire concerning a Stranger, What is he? but, What can he do?
If he has any useful Art, he is welcome; and if he exercises it,
and behaves well, he will be respected by all that know him; but
a mere Man of Quality, who, on that Account, wants to live
upon the Public, by some Office or Salary, will be despis'd and
disregarded. The Husbandman is in honor there, and even the
Mechanic, because their Employments are useful. The People
have a saying, that God Almighty is himself a Mechanic, the
greatest in the Universe; and he is respected and admired more
for the Variety, Ingenuity, and Utility of his Handyworks, than
for the Antiquity of his Family. They are pleas'd with the
Observation of a Negro, and frequently mention it, that Boccarorra
(meaning the White men) make de black man workee,
make de Horse workee, make de Ox workee, make ebery ting
workee; only de Hog. He, de hog, no workee; he eat, he drink, he
walk about, he go to sleep when he please, he libb like a Gentleman.
According to these Opinions of the Americans, one of them
would think himself more oblig'd to a Genealogist, who could
prove for him that his Ancestors and Relations for ten Generations
had been Ploughmen, Smiths, Carpenters, Turners,[452]
Weavers, Tanners, or even Shoemakers, and consequently that
they were useful Members of Society; than if he could only
prove that they were Gentlemen, doing nothing of Value, but
living idly on the Labour of others, mere fruges consumere nati,[L]
and otherwise good for nothing, till by their Death their Estates,
like the Carcass of the Negro's Gentleman-Hog, come to be
cut up.
With regard to Encouragements for Strangers from Government,
they are really only what are derived from good Laws
and Liberty. Strangers are welcome, because there is room
enough for them all, and therefore the old Inhabitants are not
jealous of them; the Laws protect them sufficiently, so that they
have no need of the Patronage of Great Men; and every one
will enjoy securely the Profits of his Industry. But, if he does
not bring a Fortune with him, he must work and be industrious
to live. One or two Years' residence gives him all the Rights of
a Citizen; but the government does not at present, whatever it
may have done in former times, hire People to become Settlers,
by Paying their Passages, giving Land, Negroes, Utensils,
Stock, or any other kind of Emolument whatsoever. In short,
America is the Land of Labour, and by no means what the
English call Lubberland, and the French Pays de Cocagne, where
the streets are said to be pav'd with half-peck Loaves, the
Houses til'd with Pancakes, and where the Fowls fly about
ready roasted, crying, Come eat me!
Who then are the kind of Persons to whom an Emigration to
America may be advantageous? And what are the Advantages
they may reasonably expect?
Land being cheap in that Country, from the vast Forests still
void of Inhabitants, and not likely to be occupied in an Age to
come, insomuch that the Propriety of an hundred Acres of
fertile Soil full of Wood may be obtained near the Frontiers, in
many Places, for Eight or Ten Guineas, hearty young Labouring
Men, who understand the Husbandry of Corn and Cattle,
which is nearly the same in that Country as in Europe, may
easily establish themselves there. A little Money sav'd of the[453]
good Wages they receive there, while they work for others,
enables them to buy the Land and begin their Plantation, in
which they are assisted by the Good-Will of their Neighbours,
and some Credit. Multitudes of poor People from England,
Ireland, Scotland, and Germany, have by this means in a few
years become wealthy Farmers, who, in their own Countries,
where all the Lands are fully occupied, and the Wages of Labour
low, could never have emerged from the poor Condition
wherein they were born.
From the salubrity of the Air, the healthiness of the Climate,
the plenty of good Provisions, and the Encouragement to early
Marriages by the certainty of Subsistence in cultivating the
Earth, the Increase of Inhabitants by natural Generation is very
rapid in America, and becomes still more so by the Accession
of Strangers; hence there is a continual Demand for more Artisans
of all the necessary and useful kinds, to supply those Cultivators
of the Earth with Houses, and with Furniture and
Utensils of the grosser sorts, which cannot so well be brought
from Europe. Tolerably good Workmen in any of those mechanic
Arts are sure to find Employ, and to be well paid for
their Work, there being no Restraints preventing Strangers
from exercising any Art they understand, nor any Permission
necessary. If they are poor, they begin first as Servants or
Journeymen; and if they are sober, industrious, and frugal, they
soon become Masters, establish themselves in Business, marry,
raise Families, and become respectable Citizens.
Also, Persons of moderate Fortunes and Capitals, who,
having a Number of Children to provide for, are desirous of
bringing them up to Industry, and to secure Estates for their
Posterity, have Opportunities of doing it in America, which
Europe does not afford. There they may be taught and practise
profitable mechanic Arts, without incurring Disgrace on
that Account, but on the contrary acquiring Respect by such
Abilities. There small Capitals laid out in Lands, which daily
become more valuable by the Increase of People, afford a solid
Prospect of ample Fortunes thereafter for those Children. The
writer of this has known several Instances of large Tracts of[454]
Land, bought, on what was then the Frontier of Pensilvania,
for Ten Pounds per hundred Acres, which after 20 years, when
the Settlements had been extended far beyond them, sold
readily, without any Improvement made upon them, for three
Pounds per Acre. The Acre in America is the same with the
English Acre, or the Acre of Normandy.
Those, who desire to understand the State of Government
in America, would do well to read the Constitutions of the several
States, and the Articles of Confederation that bind the
whole together for general Purposes, under the Direction of
one Assembly, called the Congress. These Constitutions have
been printed, by order of Congress, in America; two Editions
of them have also been printed in London; and a good Translation
of them into French has lately been published at Paris.
Several of the Princes of Europe having of late years, from
an Opinion of Advantage to arise by producing all Commodities
and Manufactures within their own Dominions, so as to diminish
or render useless their Importations, have endeavoured to
entice Workmen from other Countries by high Salaries, Privileges,
&c. Many Persons, pretending to be skilled in various
great Manufactures, imagining that America must be in Want
of them, and that the Congress would probably be dispos'd to
imitate the Princes above mentioned, have proposed to go
over, on Condition of having their Passages paid, Lands given,
Salaries appointed, exclusive Privileges for Terms of years, &c.
Such Persons, on reading the Articles of Confederation, will
find, that the Congress have no Power committed to them, or
Money put into their Hands, for such purposes; and that if any
such Encouragement is given, it must be by the Government
of some separate State. This, however, has rarely been done in
America; and, when it has been done, it has rarely succeeded, so
as to establish a Manufacture, which the Country was not yet
so ripe for as to encourage private Persons to set it up; Labour
being generally too dear there, and Hands difficult to be kept
together, every one desiring to be a Master, and the Cheapness
of Lands inclining many to leave Trades for Agriculture. Some
indeed have met with Success, and are carried on to Advantage;[455]
but they are generally such as require only a few Hands, or
wherein great Part of the Work is performed by Machines.
Things that are bulky, and of so small Value as not well to bear
the Expence of Freight, may often be made cheaper in the
Country than they can be imported; and the Manufacture of
such Things will be profitable wherever there is a sufficient
Demand. The Farmers in America produce indeed a good deal
of Wool and Flax; and none is exported, it is all work'd up; but
it is in the Way of domestic Manufacture, for the Use of the
Family. The buying up Quantities of Wool and Flax, with
the Design to employ Spinners, Weavers, &c., and form great
Establishments, producing Quantities of Linen and Woollen
Goods for Sale, has been several times attempted in different
Provinces; but those Projects have generally failed, goods of
equal Value being imported cheaper. And when the Governments
have been solicited to support such Schemes by Encouragements,
in Money, or by imposing Duties on Importation of
such Goods, it has been generally refused, on this Principle,
that, if the Country is ripe for the Manufacture, it may be carried
on by private Persons to Advantage; and if not, it is a Folly to
think of forcing Nature. Great Establishments of Manufacture
require great Numbers of Poor to do the Work for small Wages;
these Poor are to be found in Europe, but will not be found in
America, till the Lands are all taken up and cultivated, and the
Excess of People, who cannot get Land, want Employment.
The Manufacture of Silk, they say, is natural in France, as that
of Cloth in England, because each Country produces in Plenty
the first Material; but if England will have a Manufacture of Silk
as well as that of Cloth, and France one of Cloth as well as that
of Silk, these unnatural Operations must be supported by mutual
Prohibitions, or high Duties on the Importation of each
other's Goods; by which means the Workmen are enabled to
tax the home Consumer by greater Prices, while the higher
Wages they receive makes them neither happier nor richer,
since they only drink more and work less. Therefore the Governments
in America do nothing to encourage such Projects.
The People, by this Means, are not impos'd on, either by the[456]
Merchant or Mechanic. If the Merchant demands too much
Profit on imported Shoes, they buy of the Shoemaker; and if
he asks too high a Price, they take them of the Merchant; thus
the two Professions are checks on each other. The Shoemaker,
however, has, on the whole, a considerable Profit upon his
Labour in America, beyond what he had in Europe, as he can
add to his Price a Sum nearly equal to all the Expences of Freight
and Commission, Risque or Insurance, &c., necessarily charged
by the Merchant. And the Case is the same with the Workmen
in every other Mechanic Art. Hence it is, that Artisans generally
live better and more easily in America than in Europe; and such
as are good Œconomists make a comfortable Provision for Age,
and for their Children. Such may, therefore, remove with Advantage
to America.
In the long-settled Countries of Europe, all Arts, Trades,
Professions, Farms, &c., are so full, that it is difficult for a poor
Man, who has Children, to place them where they may gain, or
learn to gain, a decent Livelihood. The Artisans, who fear
creating future Rivals in Business, refuse to take Apprentices,
but upon Conditions of Money, Maintenance, or the like, which
the Parents are unable to comply with. Hence the Youth are
dragg'd up in Ignorance of every gainful Art, and oblig'd to
become Soldiers, or Servants, or Thieves, for a Subsistence. In
America, the rapid Increase of Inhabitants takes away that Fear
of Rivalship, and Artisans willingly receive Apprentices from
the hope of Profit by their Labour, during the Remainder of
the Time stipulated, after they shall be instructed. Hence it is
easy for poor Families to get their Children instructed; for the
Artisans are so desirous of Apprentices, that many of them will
even give Money to the Parents, to have Boys from Ten to
Fifteen Years of Age bound Apprentices to them till the Age of
Twenty-one; and many poor Parents have, by that means, on
their Arrival in the Country, raised Money enough to buy Land
sufficient to establish themselves, and to subsist the rest of their
Family by Agriculture. These Contracts for Apprentices are
made before a Magistrate, who regulates the Agreement according
to Reason and Justice, and, having in view the Formation[457]
of a future useful Citizen, obliges the Master to engage by a
written Indenture, not only that, during the time of Service
stipulated, the Apprentice shall be duly provided with Meat,
Drink, Apparel, washing, and Lodging, and, at its Expiration,
with a compleat new Suit of Cloaths, but also that he shall be
taught to read, write, and cast Accompts; and that he shall be
well instructed in the Art or Profession of his Master, or some
other, by which he may afterwards gain a Livelihood, and be
able in his turn to raise a Family. A Copy of this Indenture is
given to the Apprentice or his Friends, and the Magistrate keeps
a Record of it, to which recourse may be had, in case of Failure
by the Master in any Point of Performance. This desire among
the Masters, to have more Hands employ'd in working for
them, induces them to pay the Passages of young Persons, of
both Sexes, who, on their Arrival, agree to serve them one,
two, three, or four Years; those, who have already learnt a
Trade, agreeing for a shorter Term, in proportion to their
Skill, and the consequent immediate Value of their Service; and
those, who have none, agreeing for a longer Term, in consideration
of being taught an Art their Poverty would not permit
them to acquire in their own Country.
The almost general Mediocrity of Fortune that prevails in
America obliging its People to follow some Business for subsistence,
those Vices, that arise usually from Idleness, are in a
great measure prevented. Industry and constant Employment
are great preservatives of the Morals and Virtue of a Nation.
Hence bad Examples to Youth are more rare in America, which
must be a comfortable Consideration to Parents. To this may
be truly added, that serious Religion, under its various Denominations,
is not only tolerated, but respected and practised.
Atheism is unknown there; Infidelity rare and secret; so that
persons may live to a great Age in that Country, without having
their Piety shocked by meeting with either an Atheist or an
Infidel. And the Divine Being seems to have manifested his
Approbation of the mutual Forbearance and Kindness with which
the different Sects treat each other, by the remarkable Prosperity
with which He has been pleased to favour the whole Country.
[458]
[1783?]
Lion, king of a certain forest, had among his subjects a body
of faithful dogs, in principle and affection strongly attached to
his person and government, but through whose assistance he
had extended his dominions, and had become the terror of his
enemies.
Lion, however, influenced by evil counsellors, took an aversion
to the dogs, condemned them unheard, and ordered his
tigers, leopards, and panthers to attack and destroy them.
The dogs petitioned humbly, but their petitions were rejected
haughtily; and they were forced to defend themselves, which
they did with bravery.
A few among them, of a mongrel race, derived from a mixture
with wolves and foxes, corrupted by royal promises of great
rewards, deserted the honest dogs and joined their enemies.
The dogs were finally victorious: a treaty of peace was made,
in which Lion acknowledged them to be free, and disclaimed all
future authority over them.
The mongrels not being permitted to return among them,
claimed of the royalists the reward that had been promised.
A council of the beasts was held to consider their demand.
The wolves and the foxes agreed unanimously that the demand
was just, that royal promises ought to be kept, and that
every loyal subject should contribute freely to enable his majesty
to fulfil them.
The horse alone, with a boldness and freedom that became
the nobleness of his nature, delivered a contrary opinion.
"The King," said he, "has been misled, by bad ministers, to
war unjustly upon his faithful subjects. Royal promises, when
made to encourage us to act for the public good, should indeed
be honourably acquitted; but if to encourage us to betray and
destroy each other, they are wicked and void from the beginning.
The advisers of such promises, and those who murdered
in consequence of them, instead of being recompensed, should[459]
be severely punished. Consider how greatly our common
strength is already diminished by our loss of the dogs. If you
enable the King to reward those fratricides, you will establish
a precedent that may justify a future tyrant to make like promises;
and every example of such an unnatural brute rewarded
will give them additional weight. Horses and bulls, as well as
dogs, may thus be divided against their own kind, and civil wars
produced at pleasure, till we are so weakened that neither liberty
nor safety is any longer to be found in the forest, and nothing
remains but abject submission to the will of a despot, who may
devour us as he pleases."
The council had sense enough to resolve—that the demand
be rejected.
TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS
Passy, July 27, 1783.
Dear Sir,
I received your very kind letter by Dr. Blagden,[118] 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
agreable 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, or 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 compleat[460]
Paradise, might 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 [the Royal—Eds.]. 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 100 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.
P.S. 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.
TO MRS. SARAH BACHE[119]
Passy, Jan. 26, 1784.
My Dear Child,
Your Care in sending me the Newspapers is very agreable
to me. I received by Capt. Barney those relating to the Cincinnati.
My Opinion of the Institution cannot be of much Importance;
I only wonder that, when the united Wisdom of our
Nation had, in the Articles of Confederation, manifested their
Dislike of establishing Ranks of Nobility, by Authority either
of the Congress or of any particular State, a Number of private
Persons should think proper to distinguish themselves and
their Posterity, from their fellow Citizens, and form an Order
of hereditary Knights, in direct Opposition to the solemnly declared
Sense of their Country! I imagine it must be likewise
contrary to the Good Sense of most of those drawn into it by[461]
the Persuasion of its Projectors, who have been too much struck
with the Ribbands and Crosses they have seen among them
hanging to the Buttonholes of Foreign Officers. And I suppose
those, who disapprove of it, have not hitherto given it much
Opposition, from a Principle somewhat like that of your good
Mother, relating to punctilious Persons, who are always exacting
little Observances of Respect; that, "if People can be pleased with
small Matters, it is a pity but they should have them."
In this View, perhaps, I should not myself, if my Advice had
been ask'd, have objected to their wearing their Ribband and
Badge according to their Fancy, tho' I certainly should to the
entailing it as an Honour on their Posterity. For Honour,
worthily obtain'd (as for Example that of our Officers), is in its
Nature a personal Thing, and incommunicable to any but those
who had some Share in obtaining it. Thus among the Chinese,
the most ancient, and from long Experience the wisest of Nations,
honour does not descend, but ascends. If a man from his
Learning, his Wisdom, or his Valour, is promoted by the Emperor
to the Rank of Mandarin, his Parents are immediately
entitled to all the same Ceremonies of Respect from the People,
that are establish'd as due to the Mandarin himself; on the supposition
that it must have been owing to the Education, Instruction,
and good Example afforded him by his Parents, that
he was rendered capable of serving the Publick.
This ascending Honour is therefore useful to the State, as it
encourages Parents to give their Children a good and virtuous
Education. But the descending Honour, to Posterity who could
have no Share in obtaining it, is not only groundless and absurd,
but often hurtful to that Posterity, since it is apt to make them
proud, disdaining to be employ'd in useful Arts, and thence
falling into Poverty, and all the Meannesses, Servility, and
Wretchedness attending it; which is the present case with much
of what is called the Noblesse in Europe. Or if, to keep up the
Dignity of the Family, Estates are entailed entire on the Eldest
male heir, another Pest to Industry and Improvement of the
Country is introduc'd, which will be followed by all the odious
mixture of pride and Beggary, and idleness, that have half depopulated[462]
[and decultivated] Spain; occasioning continual Extinction
of Families by the Discouragements of Marriage [and
neglect in the improvement of estates].
I wish, therefore, that the Cincinnati, if they must go on with
their Project, would direct the Badges of their Order to be
worn by their Parents, instead of handing them down to their
Children. It would be a good Precedent, and might have good
Effects. It would also be a kind of Obedience to the Fourth
Commandment, in which God enjoins us to honour our Father
and Mother, but has nowhere directed us to honour our Children.
And certainly no mode of honouring those immediate
Authors of our Being can be more effectual, than that of doing
praiseworthy Actions, which reflect Honour on those who gave
us our Education; or more becoming, than that of manifesting,
by some public Expression or Token, that it is to their Instruction
and Example we ascribe the Merit of those Actions.
But the Absurdity of descending Honours is not a mere Matter
of philosophical Opinion; it is capable of mathematical Demonstration.
A Man's Son, for instance, is but half of his Family,
the other half belonging to the Family of his Wife. His Son,
too, marrying into another Family, his Share in the Grandson
is but a fourth; in the Great Grandson, by the same Process, it
is but an Eighth; in the next Generation a Sixteenth; the next a
Thirty-second; the next a Sixty-fourth; the next an Hundred
and twenty-eighth; the next a Two hundred and Fifty-sixth; and
the next a Five hundred and twelfth; thus in nine Generations,
which will not require more than 300 years (no very great Antiquity
for a Family), our present Chevalier of the Order of
Cincinnatus's Share in the then existing Knight, will be but a
512th part; which, allowing the present certain Fidelity of
American Wives to be insur'd down through all those Nine
Generations, is so small a Consideration, that methinks no
reasonable Man would hazard for the sake of it the disagreable
Consequences of the Jealousy, Envy, and Ill will of his Countrymen.
Let us go back with our Calculation from this young Noble,
the 512th part of the present Knight, thro' his nine Generations,[463]
till we return to the year of the Institution. He must have had
a Father and Mother, they are two. Each of them had a father
and Mother, they are four. Those of the next preceding Generation
will be eight, the next Sixteen, the next thirty-two, the
next sixty-four, the next One hundred and Twenty-eight, the
next Two hundred and fifty-six, and the ninth in this Retrocession
Five hundred and twelve, who must be now existing, and
all contribute their Proportion of this future Chevalier de Cincinnatus.
These, with the rest, make together as follows:
| 2 |
| 4 |
| 8 |
| 16 |
| 32 |
| 64 |
| 128 |
| 256 |
| 512 |
| ____ |
Total | 1022 |
One Thousand and Twenty-two Men and Women, contributors
to the formation of one Knight. And, if we are to have a Thousand
of these future knights, there must be now and hereafter
existing One million and Twenty-two Thousand Fathers and
Mothers, who are to contribute to their Production, unless a
Part of the Number are employ'd in making more Knights than
One. Let us strike off then the 22,000, on the Supposition of
this double Employ, and then consider whether, after a reasonable
Estimation of the Number of Rogues, and Fools, and
Royalists and Scoundrels and Prostitutes, that are mix'd with,
and help to make up necessarily their Million of Predecessors,
Posterity will have much reason to boast of the noble Blood of
the then existing Set of Chevaliers de Cincinnatus. [The future
genealogists, too, of these Chevaliers, in proving the lineal
descent of their honour through so many generations (even
supposing honour capable in its nature of descending), will
only prove the small share of this honour, which can be justly[464]
claimed by any one of them; since the above simple process in
arithmetic makes it quite plain and clear that, in proportion as
the antiquity of the family shall augment, the right to the honour
of the ancestor will diminish; and a few generations more would
reduce it to something so small as to be very near an absolute
nullity.] I hope, therefore, that the Order will drop this part
of their project, and content themselves, as the Knights of the
Garter, Bath, Thistle, St. Louis, and other Orders of Europe
do, with a Life Enjoyment of their little Badge and Ribband,
and let the Distinction die with those who have merited it. This
I imagine will give no offence. For my own part, I shall think
it a Convenience, when I go into a Company where there may
be Faces unknown to me, if I discover, by this Badge, the Persons
who merit some particular Expression of my Respect; and
it will save modest Virtue the Trouble of calling for our Regard,
by awkward roundabout Intimations of having been heretofore
employ'd in the Continental Service.
The Gentleman, who made the Voyage to France to provide
the Ribands and Medals, has executed his Commission. To me
they seem tolerably done; but all such Things are criticis'd.
Some find Fault with the Latin, as wanting classic Elegance and
Correctness; and, since our Nine Universities were not able to
furnish better Latin, it was pity, they say, that the Mottos had
not been in English. Others object to the Title, as not properly
assumable by any but Gen. Washington, [and a few others] who
serv'd without Pay. Others object to the Bald Eagle as looking
too much like a Dindon, or Turkey. For my own part, I wish
the Bald Eagle had not been chosen as the Representative of our
Country; he is a Bird of bad moral Character; he does not get
his living honestly; you may have seen him perch'd on some
dead Tree, near the River where, too lazy to fish for himself,
he watches the Labour of the Fishing-Hawk; and, when that
diligent Bird has at length taken a Fish, and is bearing it to his
Nest for the support of his Mate and young ones, the Bald
Eagle pursues him, and takes it from him. With all this Injustice
he is never in good Case; but, like those among Men who
live by Sharping and Robbing, he is generally poor, and often[465]
very lousy. Besides, he is a rank Coward; the little King Bird,
not bigger than a sparrow, attacks him boldly and drives him
out of the District. He is therefore by no means a proper emblem
for the brave and honest Cincinnati of America, who have
driven all the Kingbirds from our Country; though exactly fit
for that Order of Knights, which the French call Chevaliers
d'Industrie.
I am, on this account, not displeas'd that the Figure is not
known as a Bald Eagle, but looks more like a Turk'y. For in
Truth, the Turk'y is in comparison a much more respectable
Bird, and withal a true original Native of America. Eagles have
been found in all Countries, but the Turk'y was peculiar to
ours; the first of the Species seen in Europe being brought to
France by the Jesuits from Canada, and serv'd up at the Wedding
Table of Charles the Ninth. He is, [though a little vain
and silly, it is true, but not the worse emblem for that,] a Bird
of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of
the British Guards, who should presume to invade his Farm
Yard with a red Coat on.
I shall not enter into the Criticisms made upon their Latin.
The gallant officers of America may [not have the merit of
being] be no great scholars, but they undoubtedly merit much,
[as brave soldiers,] from their Country, which should therefore
not leave them merely to Fame for their "Virtutis Premium,"
which is one of their Latin Mottos. Their "Esto perpetua,"
another, is an excellent Wish, if they meant it for their Country;
bad, if intended for their Order. The States should not only
restore to them the Omnia of their first Motto, which many of
them have left and lost, but pay them justly, and reward them
generously. They should not be suffered to remain, with [all]
their new-created Chivalry, entirely in the Situation of the Gentleman
in the Story, which their omnia reliquit reminds me of.
You know every thing makes me recollect some Story. He
had built a very fine House, and thereby much impair'd his
Fortune. He had a Pride, however, in showing it to his Acquaintance.
One of them, after viewing it all, remark'd a
Motto over the Door, "Ōia Vanitas." "What," says he,[466]
"is the Meaning of this Ōia? it is a word I don't understand."
"I will tell you," said the Gentleman; "I had a mind to have the
Motto cut on a Piece of smooth Marble, but there was not room
for it between the Ornaments, to be put in Characters large
enough to be read. I therefore made use of a Contraction
antiently very common in Latin Manuscripts, by which the
m's and n's in Words are omitted, and the Omission noted by
a little Dash above, which you may see there; so that the Word
is omnia, OMNIA VANITAS." "O," says his Friend, "I now comprehend
the Meaning of your motto, it relates to your Edifice;
and signifies, that, if you have abridged your Omnia, you have,
nevertheless, left your VANITAS legible at full length." I am, as
ever, your affectionate father,
B. Franklin.
AN ECONOMICAL PROJECT
TO THE AUTHORS OF THE JOURNAL OF PARIS
[March 20, 1784?[120]]
Messieurs,
You often entertain us with accounts of new discoveries.
Permit me to communicate to the public, through your paper,
one that has lately been made by myself, and which I conceive
may be of great utility.
I was the other evening in a grand company, where the new
lamp of Messrs. Quinquet and Lange was introduced, and
much admired for its splendour; but a general inquiry was
made, whether the oil it consumed was not in proportion to
the light it afforded, in which case there would be no saving
in the use of it. No one present could satisfy us in that point,
which all agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable
thing to lessen, if possible, the expense of lighting our apartments,
when every other article of family expense was so much
augmented.
I was pleased to see this general concern for economy, for I
love economy exceedingly.[467]
I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after midnight,
with my head full of the subject. An accidental sudden noise
waked me about six in the morning, when I was surprised to
find my room filled with light; and I imagined at first, that a
number of those lamps had been brought into it; but, rubbing
my eyes, I perceived the light came in at the windows. I
got up and looked out to see what might be the occasion of it,
when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, from whence
he poured his rays plentifully into my chamber, my domestic
having negligently omitted, the preceding evening, to close the
shutters.
I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and found that
it was but six o'clock; and still thinking it something extraordinary
that the sun should rise so early, I looked into the
almanac, where I found it to be the hour given for his rising
on that day. I looked forward, too, and found he was to rise
still earlier every day till towards the end of June; and that at
no time in the year he retarded his rising so long as till eight
o'clock. Your readers, who with me have never seen any signs
of sunshine before noon, and seldom regard the astronomical
part of the almanac, will be as much astonished as I was, when
they hear of his rising so early; and especially when I assure
them, that he gives light as soon as he rises. I am convinced of
this. I am certain of my fact. One cannot be more certain of
any fact. I saw it with my own eyes. And, having repeated
this observation the three following mornings, I found always
precisely the same result.
Yet it so happens, that when I speak of this discovery to
others, I can easily perceive by their countenances, though they
forbear expressing it in words, that they do not quite believe
me. One, indeed, who is a learned natural philosopher, has
assured me that I must certainly be mistaken as to the circumstance
of the light coming into my room; for it being well
known, as he says, that there could be no light abroad at that
hour, it follows that none could enter from without; and that
of consequence, my windows being accidentally left open, instead
of letting in the light, had only served to let out the[468]
darkness; and he used many ingenious arguments to show me
how I might, by that means, have been deceived. I owned that
he puzzled me a little, but he did not satisfy me; and the subsequent
observations I made, as above mentioned, confirmed me
in my first opinion.
This event has given rise in my mind to several serious and
important reflections. I considered that, if I had not been
awakened so early in the morning, I should have slept six hours
longer by the light of the sun, and in exchange have lived six
hours the following night by candle-light; and, the latter being
a much more expensive light than the former, my love of
economy induced me to muster up what little arithmetic I was
master of, and to make some calculations, which I shall give
you, after observing that utility is, in my opinion the test of
value in matters of invention, and that a discovery which can
be applied to no use, or is not good for something, is good for
nothing.
I took for the basis of my calculation the supposition that
there are one hundred thousand families in Paris, and that these
families consume in the night half a pound of bougies, or
candles, per hour. I think this is a moderate allowance, taking
one family with another; for though I believe some consume
less, I know that many consume a great deal more. Then
estimating seven hours per day as a medium quantity between
the time of the sun's rising and ours, he rising during the six
following months from six to eight hours before noon, and
there being seven hours of course per night in which we burn
candles, the account will stand thus;—
In the six months between the 20th of March and the 20th of
September, there are
Nights | 183 |
Hours of each night in which we burn candles. | 7 |
| _____ |
Multiplication gives for the total number of
hours | 1,281 |
These 1,281 hours multiplied by 100,000, the
number of inhabitants, give | 128,100,000[469] |
One hundred twenty-eight millions and one
hundred thousand hours, spent at Paris by
candle-light, which, at half a pound of wax
and tallow per hour, gives the weight of | 64,050,000 |
Sixty-four millions and fifty thousand of pounds,
which, estimating the whole at the medium
price of thirty sols the pound, makes the sum
of ninety-six millions and seventy-five thousand
livres tournois | 96,075,000 |
An immense sum! that the city of Paris might save every
year, by the economy of using sunshine instead of candles.
If it should be said, that people are apt to be obstinately
attached to old customs, and that it will be difficult to induce
them to rise before noon, consequently my discovery can be
of little use; I answer, Nil desperandum. I believe all who have
common sense, as soon as they have learnt from this paper
that it is daylight when the sun rises, will contrive to rise with
him; and, to compel the rest, I would propose the following
regulations;
First. Let a tax be laid of a louis per window, on every
window that is provided with shutters to keep out the light of
the sun.
Second. Let the same salutary operation of police be made
use of, to prevent our burning candles, that inclined us last
winter to be more economical in burning wood; that is, let
guards be placed in the shops of the wax and tallow chandlers,
and no family be permitted to be supplied with more than one
pound of candles per week.
Third. Let guards also be posted to stop all the coaches, &c.
that would pass the streets after sun-set, except those of physicians,
surgeons, and midwives.
Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, let all the
bells in every church be set ringing; and if that is not sufficient,
let cannon be fired in every street, to wake the sluggards effectually,
and make them open their eyes to see their true
interest.[470]
All the difficulty will be in the first two or three days; after
which the reformation will be as natural and easy as the present
irregularity; for, ce n'est que le premier pas qui coûte. Oblige a
man to rise at four in the morning, and it is more than probable
he will go willingly to bed at eight in the evening; and, having
had eight hours sleep, he will rise more willingly at four in the
morning following. But this sum of ninety-six millions and
seventy-five thousand livres is not the whole of what may be
saved by my economical project. You may observe, that I
have calculated upon only one half of the year, and much may
be saved in the other, though the days are shorter. Besides, the
immense stock of wax and tallow left unconsumed during the
summer, will probably make candles much cheaper for the
ensuing winter, and continue them cheaper as long as the
proposed reformation shall be supported.
For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely communicated
and bestowed by me on the public, I demand neither
place, pension, exclusive privilege, nor any other reward whatever.
I expect only to have the honour of it. And yet I know
there are little, envious minds, who will, as usual, deny me
this, and say, that my invention was known to the ancients, and
perhaps they may bring passages out of the old books in proof
of it. I will not dispute with these people, that the ancients
knew not the sun would rise at certain hours; they possibly
had, as we have, almanacs that predicted it; but it does not
follow thence, that they knew he gave light as soon as he rose.
This is what I claim as my discovery. If the ancients knew it,
it might have been long since forgotten; for it certainly was
unknown to the moderns, at least to the Parisians, which to
prove, I need use but one plain simple argument. They are as well
instructed, judicious, and prudent a people as exist anywhere
in the world, all professing, like myself, to be lovers of economy;
and, from the many heavy taxes required from them by
the necessities of the state, have surely an abundant reason to
be economical. I say it is impossible that so sensible a people,
under such circumstances, should have lived so long by the
smoky, unwholesome, and enormously expensive light of[471]
candles, if they had really known, that they might have had as
much pure light of the sun for nothing. I am, &c.
A Subscriber.
TO SAMUEL MATHER[121]
Passy, May 12, 1784.
Revd 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 60 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 was 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[472]
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 blest with an excellent
constitution; may it last for ever!
This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the
United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance to
our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Britain has
not yet well digested the loss of its dominion over us, and has
still at times some flattering hopes of recovering it. Accidents
may increase those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts.
A breach between us and France would infallibly bring the
English again upon our backs; and yet we have some wild
heads among our countrymen, who are endeavouring to weaken
that connexion! Let us preserve our reputation by performing
our engagements; our credit by fulfilling our contracts; and
friends by gratitude and kindness; for we know not how soon
we may again have occasion for all of them. With great and
sincere esteem, I have the honour to be, &c.
B. Franklin.
TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN[122]
Passy, July 26th, 1784.
Dear Friend,
I have received several Letters from you lately, dated June
16, June 30, and July 13. I thank you for the Information[473]
respecting the Proceedings of your West India Merchants, or
rather Planters. The Restraints what ever they may be upon
our Commerce with your Islands, will prejudice their Inhabitants,
I apprehend, more than us.
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
interest. 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 received Cook's Voyages, which you put Mr. Oswald
in the way of sending to me. By some Mistake the first Volume
was omitted, and instead of it a Duplicate sent of the third. If
there is a good Print of Cook, I should be glad to have it,
being personally acquainted with him. I thank you for the
Pamphlets by Mr. Estlin. Every thing you send me gives me
Pleasure; to receive your Account would give me more than
all.
I am told, that the little Pamphlet of Advice to such as would
remove to America, is reprinted in London, with my Name to
it, which I would rather had been omitted; but wish to see a
Copy, when you have an Opportunity of sending it.
Mr. H. has long continued here in Expectation of Instructions
for making a Treaty of Commerce, but they do not come,
and I begin to suspect none are intended; tho' perhaps the
Delay is only occasioned by the over great Burthen of Business
at present on the Shoulders of your Ministers. We do not press
the Matter, but are content to wait till they can see their Interest
respecting America more clearly, being certain that we can shift
as well as you without a Treaty.[474]
The Conjectures I sent you concerning the cold of last
Winter still appear to me probable. The moderate Season in
Russia and Canada, do not weaken them. I think our Frost
here began about the 24th of December; in America, the 12
of January. I thank you for recommending to me Mr. Arbuthnot;
I have had Pleasure in his Conversation. I wish much to
see the new Pieces you had in hand. I congratulate you on the
Return of your Wedding-day, and wish for your Sake and
Mrs. Vaughan's, that you may see a great many of them, all as
happy as the first.
I like the young stranger very much. He seems sensible,
ingenious, and modest, has a good deal of Instruction, and
makes judicious Observations. He will probably distinguish
himself advantageously. I have not yet heard from Mr. Nairne.
Dr. Price's Pamphlet of Advice to America is a good one,
and will do Good. You ask, "what Remedy I have for the
growing Luxury of my Country, which gives so much Offence
to all English travellers without exception." I answer, that I
think it exaggerated, and that Travellers are no good Judges
whether our Luxury is growing or diminishing. Our People
are hospitable, and have indeed too much Pride in displaying
upon their Tables before Strangers the Plenty and Variety that
our Country affords. They have the Vanity, too, of sometimes
borrowing one another's Plate to entertain more splendidly.
Strangers being invited from House to House, and
meeting every Day with a Feast, imagine what they see is the
ordinary Way of living of all the Families where they dine;
when perhaps each Family lives a Week after upon the Remains
of the Dinner given. It is, I own, a Folly in our People to give
such Offence to English Travellers. The first part of the Proverb
is thereby verified, that Fools make Feasts. I wish in this Case
the other were as true, and wise Men eat them. These Travellers
might, one would think, find some Fault they could more
decently reproach us with, than that of our excessive Civility
to them as Strangers.
I have not, indeed yet thought of a Remedy for Luxury. I
am not sure, that in a great State it is capable of a Remedy. Nor[475]
that the Evil is in itself always so great as it is represented.
Suppose we include in the Definition of Luxury all unnecessary
Expence, and then let us consider whether Laws to prevent
such Expence 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 one day
being 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 Pay. My
Wife, understanding that he had a Daughter, sent her as a
Present 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," says he, "it proved a dear
Cap to our Congregation." "How so?" "When my Daughter
appeared in 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 Pound." "True," says 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 Ribbands 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[476]
be extravagant and ruin themselves. Laws cannot prevent this;
and perhaps it is not always an evil to the Publick. 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 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 publick Evil,
in the same Manner as it is a Private one. If there be a Nation,
for Instance, that exports its Beef and Linnen, to pay for its
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 your Islands for
Rum and Sugar; the substantial Necessaries of Life for Superfluities.
But we have Plenty, and live well nevertheless, tho'
by being soberer, we might be richer.
By the by, here is just issued an arrêt of Council taking off
all the Duties upon the exportation of Brandies, which, it is
said, will render them cheaper in America than your Rum;
in which case there is no doubt but they will be preferr'd, and
we shall be better able to bear your Restrictions on our Commerce.
There are Views here, by augmenting their Settlements,
of being able to supply the growing People of America with
the Sugar that may be wanted there. On the whole, I guess
England will get as little by the Commercial War she has begun
with us, as she did by the Military. But to return to Luxury.
The vast Quantity of Forest Lands 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,[477]
while the Country possesses all the Virtues, that tend to private
Happiness and publick 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 the 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 each
Day on something useful, that Labour would produce sufficient
to procure all the Necessaries and Comforts of Life, Want and
Misery would be banished out of the World, and the rest of the
24 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 the 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 consum'd,
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 hewing Timber and sawing Boards, 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 employ'd in
doing nothing, or in something that amounts to nothing, when
the Necessaries and Conveniences of Life are in question.[478]
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 cannot 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 Forest, and a great Deal even in Europe. On 100 Acres of
this Forest a Man might become a substantial Farmer, and
100,000 Men, employed in clearing each his 100 Acres, would
hardly brighten a Spot big enough to be Visible from the Moon,
unless with Herschell's Telescope; so vast are the Regions still
in Wood unimproved.
'Tis 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 Coasts 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 Seacoast will not be the Ruin of America.
One reflection more, and I well end this long, rambling
Letter. Almost all the Parts of our Bodies require some Expence.
The Feet demand Shoes; the Legs, Stockings; the rest
of the Body, Clothing; and the Belly, a good deal of Victuals.
Our Eyes, tho' 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[479]
fine Clothes, fine Houses, nor fine Furniture. Adieu, my dear
Friend, I am
Yours ever
B. Franklin.
P.S. This will be delivered to you by my Grandson. I am
persuaded you will afford him your Civilities and Counsels.
Please to accept a little Present of Books, I send by him, curious
for the Beauty of the Impression.
TO GEORGE WHATELY[123]
Passy, May 23, 1785.
Dear Old Friend,
... 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 car'd 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 wish'd 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,
call'd The Old Man's Wish, wherein, after wishing for a warm
House in a country Town, an easy Horse, some good old
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 burthen,
"May I govern my Passions with an absolute sway,
Grow wiser and better as my Strength wears away,
Without Gout or Stone, by a gentle Decay;"
[480]
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 resolv'd not to
marry a Parson, nor a Presbyterian, nor an Irishman; and at
length 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 employ'd
in new Compositions, he has prevented the Necessity of creating
new Matter; so that the Earth, Water, Air, and perhaps
Fire, which being compounded form 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 inconveniencies 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.[481]
... Adieu, my dear Friend, and believe me ever yours very
affectionately,
B. Franklin.
TO JOHN BARD AND MRS. BARD
Philadelphia, November 14, 1785.
Dear Friends,
I received your kind letter, which gave me great pleasure, as
it informed me of your welfare. Your friendly congratulations
are very obliging. I had on my return some right, as you observe,
to expect repose; and it was my intention to avoid all
public business. But I had not firmness enough to resist the
unanimous desire of my country folks; and I find myself harnessed
again in their service for another year. They engrossed
the prime of my life. They have eaten my flesh, and seem
resolved now to pick my bones. You are right in supposing,
that I interest myself in every thing that affects you and yours,
sympathizing in your afflictions, and rejoicing in your felicities;
for our friendship is ancient, and was never obscured by the
least cloud.
I thank you for your civilities to my grandson, and am ever,
with sincere and great esteem and regard, my dear friends, yours
most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
TO JONATHAN SHIPLEY
Philadelphia, Feb. 24th, 1786.
Dear Friend,
I received lately your kind letter of Nov. 27th. My Reception
here was, as you have heard, very honourable indeed; but
I was betray'd 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 to retire.[482]
I have much regretted our having so little Opportunity for
Conversation when we last met. You could have given me
Informations and Counsels that I wanted, but we were scarce
a Minute together without being broke in upon. I am to thank
you, however, for the Pleasure I had after our Parting, in reading
the new Book[124] you gave me, which I think generally well
written and likely to do good; tho' the Reading Time of most
People is of late so taken up with News Papers and little
periodical Pamphlets, that few now-a-days venture to attempt
reading a Quarto Volume. I have admir'd to see, that, in the
last Century, a Folio, Burton on Melancholly, went through Six
Editions in about Twenty Years. We have, I believe, more
Readers now, but not of such large Books.
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.
Your NewsPapers are fill'd with fictitious Accounts of
Anarchy, Confusion, Distresses, and Miseries, we are suppos'd
to be involv'd in, as Consequences of the Revolution; and the
few remaining Friends of the old Government among us take
pains to magnify every little Inconvenience a Change in the
Course of Commerce may have occasion'd. To obviate the
Complaints they endeavour to excite, was written the enclos'd
little Piece,[125] from which you may form a truer Idea of our
Situation, than your own public Prints would give you. And
I can assure you, that the great Body of our Nation find themselves
happy in the Change, and have not the smallest Inclination
to return to the Domination of Britain. There could not
be a stronger Proof of the general Approbation of the Measures,
that promoted the Change, and of the Change itself, than has
been given by the Assembly and Council of this State, in the[483]
nearly unanimous Choice for their Governor, of one who had
been so much concern'd in those Measures, the Assembly being
themselves the unbrib'd Choice of the People, and therefore
may be truly suppos'd of the same Sentiments. I say nearly
unanimous, because, of between 70 and 80 Votes, there were
only my own and one other in the negative.
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 a 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 Barques 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
Risque where we can make no Insurance, 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[126] convey'd to him by his Father when we
were at Southampton, has drop'd 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 agreable
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 skillful English Farmer lately arrived here, who is to instruct[484]
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 concerning 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 chearfully, 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 hope always to retain the pleasing remembrance
of your Friendship, being with sincere and great Esteem,
my dear Friend, yours most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
P.S. We all join in Respects to Mrs. Shipley, and best
wishes for the whole amiable Family.
TO ————————[127]
Phila. July 3, 1786 [?].
Dear Sir,
I have read your Manuscript with some Attention. By the
Argument it contains against the Doctrines of a particular
Providence, tho' you allow a general Providence, you strike at
the Foundation 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, tho' you
seem to desire it. At present I shall only give you my Opinion,[485]
that, though your Reasonings are subtile, 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.[128]
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 Proportion of Mankind consists of weak and
ignorant Men and Women, and of inexperienc'd, and 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 for 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 distinguish'd Authors. For among us it
is not necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a Youth, to be
receiv'd into the Company of men, should prove his Manhood
by beating his Mother.
I would advise you, therefore, not to attempt unchaining the
Tyger, 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 good deal of Regret and Repentance. If men are so
wicked as we now see them 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. F.
[486]
SPEECH IN THE CONVENTION;
ON THE SUBJECT OF SALARIES[129]
[Delivered June 2, 1787]
Sir,
It is with Reluctance that I rise to express a Disapprobation
of any one Article of the Plan, for which we are so much obliged
to the honourable Gentleman who laid it before us. From its
first Reading, I have borne a good Will to it, and, in general,
wish'd it Success. In this Particular of Salaries to the Executive
Branch, I happen to differ; and, as my Opinion may appear
new and chimerical, it is only from a Persuasion that it is right,
and from a Sense of Duty, that I hazard it. The Committee will
judge of my Reasons when they have heard them, and their
judgment may possibly change mine. I think I see Inconveniences
in the Appointment of Salaries; I see none in refusing
them, but on the contrary great Advantages.
Sir, there are two Passions which have a powerful Influence
in the Affairs of Men. These are Ambition and Avarice, the Love
of Power and the Love of Money. Separately, each of these has
great Force in prompting Men to Action; but when united in
View of the same Object, they have in many Minds the most
violent Effects. Place before the Eyes of such Men a Post of
Honour, that shall at the same time be a Place of Profit, and
they will move Heaven and Earth to obtain it. The vast Number
of such Places it is that renders the British Government so
tempestuous. The Struggles for them are the true Source of
all those Factions which are perpetually dividing the Nation,
distracting its Councils, hurrying it sometimes into fruitless
and mischievous Wars, and often compelling a Submission
to dishonourable Terms of Peace.
And of what kind are the men that will strive for this profitable
Preëminence, thro' all the Bustle of Cabal, the Heat of
Contention, the infinite mutual Abuse of Parties, tearing to
Pieces the best of Characters? It will not be the wise and
moderate, the Lovers of Peace and good Order, the men fittest[487]
for the Trust. It will be the Bold and the Violent, the men of
strong Passions and indefatigable Activity in their selfish Pursuits.
These will thrust themselves into your Government, and
be your Rulers. And these, too, will be mistaken in the expected
Happiness of their Situation; for their vanquish'd competitors,
of the same Spirit, and from the same Motives, will perpetually
be endeavouring to distress their Administration, thwart their
Measures, and render them odious to the People.
Besides these Evils, Sir, tho' we may set out in the Beginning
with moderate Salaries, we shall find, that such will not be of
long Continuance. Reasons will never be wanting for propos'd
Augmentations, and there will always be a Party for giving
more to the Rulers, that the Rulers may be able in Return to
give more to them. Hence, as all History informs us, there has
been in every State and Kingdom a constant kind of Warfare
between the Governing and the Governed; the one striving to
obtain more for its Support, and the other to pay less. And this
has alone occasion'd great Convulsions, actual Civil Wars, ending
either in dethroning of the Princes or enslaving of the
People. Generally, indeed, the Ruling Power carries its Point,
and we see the Revenues of Princes constantly increasing, and
we see that they are never satisfied, but always in want of more.
The more the People are discontented with the Oppression of
Taxes, the greater Need the Prince has of Money to distribute
among his Partisans, and pay the Troops that are to suppress
all Resistance, and enable him to plunder at Pleasure. There is
scarce a King in a hundred, who would not, if he could, follow
the Example of Pharaoh,—get first all the People's Money, then
all their Lands, and then make them and their Children Servants
for ever. It will be said, that we do not propose to establish
Kings. I know it. But there is a natural Inclination in Mankind
to kingly Government. It sometimes relieves them from Aristocratic
Domination. They had rather have one Tyrant than
500. It gives more of the Appearance of Equality among Citizens;
and that they like. I am apprehensive, therefore,—perhaps
too apprehensive,—that the Government of these States may
in future times end in a Monarchy. But this Catastrophe, I[488]
think, may be long delay'd, if in our propos'd System we do
not sow the Seeds of Contention, Faction, and Tumult, by
making our Posts of Honour Places of Profit. If we do, I fear,
that, tho' we employ at first a Number and not a single Person,
the Number will in time be set aside; it will only nourish the
Fœtus of a King (as the honourable Gentleman from Virga very
aptly express'd it), and a King will the sooner be set over us.
It may be imagined by some, that this is an Utopian Idea, and
that we can never find Men to serve us in the Executive Department,
without paying them well for their Services. I conceive
this to be a Mistake. Some existing Facts present themselves to
me, which incline me to a contrary Opinion. The High Sheriff
of a County in England is an honourable Office, but it is not a
profitable one. It is rather expensive, and therefore not sought
for. But yet it is executed, and well executed, and usually by
some of the principal Gentlemen of the County. In France,
the Office of Counsellor, or Member of their judiciary Parliaments,
is more honourable. It is therefore purchas'd at a High
Price; there are indeed Fees on the Law Proceedings, which are
divided among them, but these Fees do not amount to more
than three per cent on the Sum paid for the Place. Therefore,
as legal Interest is there at five per cent, they in fact pay two
per cent for being allow'd to do the Judiciary Business of the
Nation, which is at the same time entirely exempt from the
Burthen of paying them any Salaries for their Services. I do
not, however, mean to recommend this as an eligible Mode for
our judiciary Department. I only bring the Instance to show,
that the Pleasure of doing Good and serving their Country,
and the Respect such Conduct entitles them to, are sufficient
Motives with some Minds, to give up a great Portion of their
Time to the Public, without the mean Inducement of pecuniary
Satisfaction.
Another Instance is that of a respectable Society, who have
made the Experiment, and practis'd it with Success, now more
than a hundred years. I mean the Quakers. It is an establish'd
Rule with them that they are not to go to law, but in their Controversies
they must apply to their Monthly, Quarterly, and[489]
Yearly Meetings. Committees of these sit with Patience to hear
the Parties, and spend much time in composing their Differences.
In doing this, they are supported by a Sense of Duty,
and the Respect paid to Usefulness. It is honourable to be so
employ'd, but it was never made profitable by Salaries, Fees, or
Perquisites. And indeed, in all Cases of public Service, the less
the Profit the greater the Honour.
To bring the Matter nearer home, have we not seen the
greatest and most important of our Offices, that of General of
our Armies, executed for Eight Years together, without the
smallest Salary, by a patriot whom I will not now offend by
any other Praise; and this, thro' Fatigues and Distresses, in
common with the other brave Men, his military Friends and
Companions, and the constant Anxieties peculiar to his Station?
And shall we doubt finding three or four Men in all the United
States, with public Spirit enough to bear sitting in peaceful
Council, for perhaps an equal Term, merely to preside over our
civil Concerns, and see that our Laws are duly executed? Sir, I
have a better opinion of our Country. I think we shall never
be without a sufficient Number of wise and good Men to undertake,
and execute well and faithfully, the Office in question.
Sir, the Saving of the Salaries, that may at first be propos'd,
is not an object with me. The subsequent Mischiefs of proposing
them are what I apprehend. And therefore it is that I
move the Amendment. If it is not seconded or accepted, I must
be contented with the Satisfaction of having delivered my
Opinion frankly, and done my Duty.
MOTION FOR PRAYERS IN THE CONVENTION
[Motion made June 28, 1787]
Mr. President,
The small Progress we have made, after 4 or 5 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[490]
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 examin'd the
different Forms of those Republics, which, having been orig[i]nally
form'd with the Seeds of their own Dissolution, now no
longer exist; and we have view'd 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 engag'd 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 Builders 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 Bye-word
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.[491]
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.[M]
SPEECH IN THE CONVENTION
At the Conclusion of its Deliberations[130]
[September 17, 1787]
Mr. President,
I confess, that I do not entirely approve of this Constitution
at present; but, Sir, I am not sure I shall never approve it; for,
having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being
obliged, by better information or fuller consideration, to change
my opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought
right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that, the older
I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment of others.
Most men, indeed, as well as most sects in religion, think themselves
in possession of all truth, and that wherever others differ
from them, it is so far error. Steele, a Protestant, in a dedication,
tells the Pope, that the only difference between our two
churches in their opinions of the certainty of their doctrine, is,
the Romish Church is infallible, and the Church of England is
never in the wrong. But, though many private Persons think almost
as highly of their own infallibility as of that of their Sect,
few express it so naturally as a certain French Lady, who, in a
little dispute with her sister, said, "But I meet with nobody but
myself that is always in the right." "Je ne trouve que moi qui aie
toujours raison."
In these sentiments, Sir, I agree to this Constitution, with all
its faults,—if they are such; because I think a general Government
necessary for us, and there is no form of government but
what may be a blessing to the people, if well administered; and[492]
I believe, farther, that this is likely to be well administered for a
course of years, and can only end in despotism, as other forms
have done before it, when the people shall become so corrupted
as to need despotic government, being incapable of any other.
I doubt, too, whether any other Convention we can obtain, may
be able to make a better constitution; for, when you assemble a
number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wisdom,
you inevitably assemble with those men all their prejudices,
their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and
their selfish views. From such an assembly can a perfect production
be expected? It therefore astonishes me, Sir, to find this
system approaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think
it will astonish our enemies, who are waiting with confidence
to hear, that our councils are confounded like those of the
builders of Babel, and that our States are on the point of separation,
only to meet hereafter for the purpose of cutting one
another's throats. Thus I consent, Sir, to this Constitution,
because I expect no better, and because I am not sure that it is
not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors I sacrifice to
the public good. I have never whispered a syllable of them
abroad. Within these walls they were born, and here they shall
die. If every one of us, in returning to our Constituents, were
to report the objections he has had to it, and endeavour to gain
Partisans in support of them, we might prevent its being generally
received, and thereby lose all the salutary effects and
great advantages resulting naturally in our favour among foreign
nations, as well as among ourselves, from our real or apparent
unanimity. Much of the strength and efficiency of any
government, in procuring and securing happiness to the people,
depends on opinion, on the general opinion of the goodness of
that government, as well as of the wisdom and integrity of its
governors. I hope, therefore, for our own sakes, as a part of
the people, and for the sake of our posterity, that we shall act
heartily and unanimously in recommending this Constitution,
wherever our Influence may extend, and turn our future
thoughts and endeavours to the means of having it well administered.[493]
On the whole, Sir, I cannot help expressing a wish, that every
member of the Convention who may still have objections to it,
would with me on this occasion doubt a little of his own infallibility,
and, to make manifest our unanimity, put his name to
this Instrument.
[Then the motion was made for adding the last formula, viz.
"Done in convention by the Unanimous Consent," &c.; which
was agreed to and added accordingly.]
TO THE EDITORS OF THE PENNSYLVANIA GAZETTE
On the Abuse of the Press
[1788]
Messrs. Hall and Sellers,
I lately heard a remark, that on examination of The Pennsylvania
Gazette for fifty years, from its commencement, it appeared,
that, during that long period, scarce one libellous piece
had ever appeared in it. This generally chaste conduct of your
paper is much to its reputation; for it has long been the opinion
of sober, judicious people, that nothing is more likely to endanger
the liberty of the press, than the abuse of that liberty,
by employing it in personal accusation, detraction, and calumny.
The excesses some of our papers have been guilty of in this
particular, have set this State in a bad light abroad, as appears by
the following letter, which I wish you to publish, not merely to
show your own disapprobation of the practice, but as a caution
to others of the profession throughout the United States. For
I have seen a European newspaper, in which the editor, who had
been charged with frequently calumniating the Americans, justifies
himself by saying, "that he had published nothing disgraceful
to us, which he had not taken from our own printed
papers." I am, &c.
A. B.
"New York, March 30, 1788.
"Dear Friend,
"My Gout has at length left me, after five Months' painful[494]
Confinement. It afforded me, however, the Leisure to read, or
hear read, all the Packets of your various Newspapers, which
you so kindly sent for my Amusement.
"Mrs. W. has partaken of it; she likes to read the Advertisements;
but she remarks some kind of Inconsistency in the announcing
so many Diversions for almost every Evening of the
Week, and such Quantities to be sold of expensive Superfluities,
Fineries, and Luxuries just imported, in a Country, that at the
same time fills its Papers with Complaints of Hard Times, and
Want of Money. I tell her, that such Complaints are common
to all Times and all Countries, and were made even in Solomon's
Time; when, as we are told, Silver was as plenty in Jerusalem
as the Stones in the Street; and yet, even then, there were
People who grumbled, so as to incur this Censure from that
knowing Prince. 'Say not thou that the former Times were
better than these; for thou dost not enquire rightly concerning that
matter.'
"But the Inconsistence that strikes me the most is, that between
the Name of your City, Philadelphia, (Brotherly Love,)
and the Spirit of Rancour, Malice, and Hatred that breathes in
its Newspapers. For I learn from those Papers, that your State
is divided into Parties, that each Party ascribes all the public
Operations of the other to vicious Motives; that they do not
even suspect one another of the smallest Degree of Honesty;
that the anti-federalists are such, merely from the Fear of losing
Power, Places, or Emoluments, which they have in Possession
or in Expectation; that the Federalists are a set of Conspirators,
who aim at establishing a Tyranny over the Persons and Property
of their Countrymen, and to live in Splendor on the
Plunder of the People. I learn, too, that your Justices of the
Peace, tho' chosen by their Neighbours, make a villainous Trade
of their Office, and promote Discord to augment Fees, and
fleece their Electors; and that this would not be mended by placing
the Choice in the Executive Council, who, with interested
or party Views, are continually making as improper Appointments;
witness a 'petty Fidler, Sycophant, and Scoundrel,' appointed[495]
Judge of the Admiralty; 'an old Woman and Fomenter
of Sedition' to be another of the Judges, and 'a Jeffries' Chief
Justice, &c., &c.; with 'two Harpies' the Comptroller and Naval
Officers, to prey upon the Merchants and deprive them of their
Property by Force of Arms, &c.
"I am inform'd also by these Papers, that your General
Assembly, tho' the annual choice of the People, shows no Regard
to their Rights, but from sinister Views or Ignorance
makes Laws in direct Violation of the Constitution, to divest
the Inhabitants of their Property and give it to Strangers and
Intruders; and that the Council, either fearing the Resentment
of their Constituents, or plotting to enslave them, had projected
to disarm them, and given Orders for that purpose; and finally,
that your President, the unanimous joint choice of the Council
and Assembly, is 'an old Rogue,' who gave his Assent to the
federal Constitution merely to avoid refunding Money he had
purloin'd from the United States.
"There is, indeed, a good deal of manifest Inconsistency in all
this, and yet a Stranger, seeing it in your own Prints, tho' he
does not believe it all, may probably believe enough of it to
conclude, that Pennsylvania is peopled by a Set of the most
unprincipled, wicked, rascally, and quarrelsome Scoundrels
upon the Face of the Globe. I have sometimes, indeed, suspected,
that those Papers are the Manufacture of foreign Enemies
among you, who write with a view of disgracing your
Country, and making you appear contemptible and detestable
all the World over; but then I wonder at the Indiscretion of
your Printers in publishing such Writings! There is, however,
one of your Inconsistencies that consoles me a little, which is,
that tho' living, you give one another the characters of Devils;
dead, you are all Angels! It is delightful, when any of you die,
to read what good Husbands, good Fathers, good Friends,
good Citizens, and good Christians you were, concluding with
a Scrap of Poetry that places you, with certainty, every one in
Heaven. So that I think Pennsylvania a good country to dye in,
though a very bad one to live in."
[496]
TO REV. JOHN LATHROP[131]
Philada, May 31, 1788.
Reverend Sir,
... I have been long impressed with the same sentiments you
so well express, of the growing felicity of mankind, from the
improvements in philosophy, morals, politics, and even the
conveniences of common living, by the invention and acquisition
of new and useful utensils and instruments, that I have
sometimes almost wished it had been my destiny to be born
two or three centuries hence. For invention and improvement
are prolific, and beget more of their kind. The present progress
is rapid. Many of great importance, now unthought of, will
before that period be produced; and then I might not only enjoy
their advantages, but have my curiosity gratified in knowing
what they are to be. I see a little absurdity in what I have just
written, but it is to a friend, who will wink and let it pass, while
I mention one reason more for such a wish, which is, that, if
the art of physic shall be improved in proportion with other
arts, we may then be able to avoid diseases, and live as long as
the patriarchs in Genesis; to which I suppose we should make
little objection....
B. Franklin.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE FEDERAL GAZETTE
A COMPARISON OF THE CONDUCT OF THE ANCIENT JEWS AND OF
THE ANTI-FEDERALISTS IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
[1788?]
A zealous Advocate for the propos'd Federal Constitution,
in a certain public Assembly, said, that "the Repugnance of a
great part of Mankind to good Government was such, that he
believed, that, if an angel from Heaven was to bring down a
Constitution form'd there for our Use, it would nevertheless
meet with violent Opposition." He was reprov'd for the suppos'd
Extravagance of the Sentiment; and he did not justify it.
Probably it might not have immediately occur'd to him, that[497]
the Experiment had been try'd, and that the Event was recorded
in the most faithful of all Histories, the Holy Bible; otherwise
he might, as it seems to me, have supported his Opinion by that
unexceptionable Authority.
The Supreme Being had been pleased to nourish up a single
Family, by continued Acts of his attentive Providence, till it
became a great People; and, having rescued them from Bondage
by many Miracles, performed by his Servant Moses, he personally
deliver'd to that chosen Servant, in the presence of the
whole Nation, a Constitution and Code of Laws for their Observance;
accompanied and sanction'd with Promises of great
Rewards, and Threats of severe Punishments, as the Consequence
of their Obedience or Disobedience.
This Constitution, tho' the Deity himself was to be at its
Head (and it is therefore call'd by Political Writers a Theocracy),
could not be carried into Execution but by the Means of his
Ministers; Aaron and his Sons were therefore commission'd to
be, with Moses, the first establish'd Ministry of the new Government.
One would have thought, that this Appointment of Men,
who had distinguish'd themselves in procuring the Liberty of
their Nation, and had hazarded their Lives in openly opposing
the Will of a powerful Monarch, who would have retain'd that
Nation in Slavery, might have been an Appointment acceptable
to a grateful People; and that a Constitution fram'd for them
by the Deity himself might, on that Account, have been secure
of a universal welcome Reception. Yet there were in every one
of the thirteen Tribes some discontented, restless Spirits, who
were continually exciting them to reject the propos'd new Government,
and this from various Motives.
Many still retained an Affection for Egypt, the Land of their
Nativity; and these, whenever they felt any Inconvenience or
Hardship, tho' the natural and unavoidable Effect of their
Change of Situation, exclaim'd against their Leaders as the
Authors of their Trouble; and were not only for returning into
Egypt, but for stoning their deliverers.[N] Those inclin'd to idolatry[498]
were displeas'd that their Golden Calf was destroy'd. Many
of the Chiefs thought the new Constitution might be injurious
to their particular Interests, that the profitable Places would be
engrossed by the Families and Friends of Moses and Aaron, and
others equally well-born excluded.[O] In Josephus and the Talmud,
we learn some Particulars, not so fully narrated in the
Scripture. We are there told, "That Corah was ambitious of
the Priesthood, and offended that it was conferred on Aaron;
and this, as he said, by the Authority of Moses only, without the
Consent of the People. He accus'd Moses of having, by various
Artifices, fraudulently obtain'd the Government, and depriv'd
the People of their Liberties; and of conspiring with Aaron to
perpetuate the Tyranny in their Family. Thus, tho' Corah's
real Motive was the Supplanting of Aaron, he persuaded the
People that he meant only the Public Good, and they, moved by
his Insinuations, began to cry out, 'Let us maintain the Common
Liberty of our respective Tribes; we have freed ourselves from
the Slavery impos'd on us by the Egyptians, and shall we now
suffer ourselves to be made Slaves by Moses? If we must have
a Master, it were better to return to Pharaoh, who at least fed
us with Bread and Onions, than to serve this new Tyrant, who
by his Operations has brought us into Danger of Famine.' Then
they called in question the Reality of his Conference with God;
and objected the Privacy of the Meetings, and the preventing any
of the People from being present at the Colloquies, or even approaching
the Place, as Grounds of great Suspicion. They
accused Moses also of Peculation; as embezzling part of the
Golden Spoons and the Silver Chargers, that the Princes had
offer'd at the Dedication of the Altar,[P] and the Offerings of
Gold by the common People,[Q] as well as most of the Poll-Tax;[R]
and Aaron they accus'd of pocketing much of the Gold of which[499]
he pretended to have made a molten Calf. Besides Peculation,
they charg'd Moses with Ambition; to gratify which Passion he
had, they said, deceiv'd the People, by promising to bring them
to a land flowing with Milk and Honey; instead of doing which,
he had brought them from such a Land; and that he thought
light of all this mischief, provided he could make himself an
absolute Prince.[S] That, to support the new Dignity with Splendor
in his Family, the partial Poll-Tax already levied and given
to Aaron[T] was to be follow'd by a general one,[U] which would
probably be augmented from time to time, if he were suffered
to go on promulgating new Laws, on pretence of new occasional
Revelations of the divine Will, till their whole Fortunes were
devour'd by that Aristocracy."
Moses deny'd the Charge of Peculation; and his Accusers
were destitute of Proofs to support it; tho' Facts, if real, are in
their Nature capable of Proof. "I have not," said he (with holy
Confidence in the Presence of his God), "I have not taken from
this People the value of an Ass, nor done them any other Injury."
But his Enemies had made the Charge, and with some
Success among the Populace; for no kind of Accusation is so
readily made, or easily believ'd, by Knaves as the Accusation
of Knavery.
In fine, no less than two hundred and fifty of the principal
Men, "famous in the Congregation, Men of Renown,"[V] heading
and exciting the Mob, worked them up to such a pitch of
Frenzy, that they called out, "Stone 'em, stone 'em, and thereby
secure our Liberties; and let us chuse other Captains, that may
lead us back into Egypt, in case we do not succeed in reducing
the Canaanites!"
On the whole, it appears, that the Israelites were a People
jealous of their newly-acquired Liberty, which Jealousy was in
itself no Fault; but, when they suffer'd it to be work'd upon by[500]
artful Men, pretending Public Good, with nothing really in
view but private Interest, they were led to oppose the Establishment
of the New Constitution, whereby they brought upon
themselves much Inconvenience and Misfortune. It appears
further, from the same inestimable History, that, when after
many Ages that Constitution was become old and much abus'd,
and an Amendment of it was propos'd, the populace, as they
had accus'd Moses of the Ambition of making himself a Prince,
and cried out, "Stone him, stone him;" so, excited by their High
Priests and Scribes, they exclaim'd against the Messiah, that he
aim'd at becoming King of the Jews, and cry'd out, "Crucify
him, Crucify him." From all which we may gather, that popular
Opposition to a public Measure is no Proof of its Impropriety,
even tho' the Opposition be excited and headed by Men of Distinction.
To conclude, I beg I may not be understood to infer, that
our General Convention was divinely inspired, when it form'd
the new federal Constitution, merely because that Constitution
has been unreasonably and vehemently opposed; yet I must own
I have so much Faith in the general Government of the world
by Providence, that I can hardly conceive a Transaction of such
momentous Importance to the Welfare of Millions now existing,
and to exist in the Posterity of a great Nation, should be suffered
to pass without being in some degree influenc'd, guided, and
governed by that omnipotent, omnipresent, and beneficent
Ruler, in whom all inferior Spirits live, and move, and have
their Being.
B. F.
TO CHARLES CARROLL[132]
Philadelphia, May 25, 1789.
Dear Friend,
I am glad to see by the papers, that our grand machine has
at length begun to work. I pray God to bless and guide its
operations. If any form of government is capable of making a
nation happy, ours I think bids fair now for producing that[501]
effect. But, after all, much depends upon the people who are to
be governed. We have been guarding against an evil that old
States are most liable to, excess of power in the rulers; but our
present danger seems to be defect of obedience in the subjects.[133]
There is hope, however, from the enlightened state of this age
and country, we may guard effectually against that evil as well
as the rest.
My grandson, William Temple Franklin, will have the honour
of presenting this line. He accompanied me to France, and
remained with me during my mission. I beg leave to recommend
him to your notice, and that you would believe me, my
dear friend, yours most affectionately,
B. Franklin.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE SUPREMEST COURT OF
JUDICATURE IN PENNSYLVANIA, VIZ.
THE COURT OF THE PRESS
[From the Federal Gazette, September 12, 1789.]
Power of this Court.
It may receive and promulgate accusations of all kinds, against
all persons and characters among the citizens of the State, and
even against all inferior courts; and may judge, sentence, and
condemn to infamy, not only private individuals, but public
bodies, &c., with or without inquiry or hearing, at the court's
discretion.
In whose Favour and for whose Emolument this Court is established.
In favour of about one citizen in five hundred, who, by education
or practice in scribbling, has acquired a tolerable style as
to grammar and construction, so as to bear printing; or who is
possessed of a press and a few types. This five hundredth part
of the citizens have the privilege of accusing and abusing the
other four hundred and ninety-nine parts at their pleasure; or
they may hire out their pens and press to others for that purpose.[502]
Practice of the Court.
It is not governed by any of the rules of common courts of
law. The accused is allowed no grand jury to judge of the truth
of the accusation before it is publicly made, nor is the Name of
the Accuser made known to him, nor has he an Opportunity of
confronting the Witnesses against him; for they are kept in the
dark, as in the Spanish Court of Inquisition. Nor is there any
petty Jury of his Peers, sworn to try the Truth of the Charges.
The Proceedings are also sometimes so rapid, that an honest,
good Citizen may find himself suddenly and unexpectedly accus'd,
and in the same Morning judg'd and condemn'd, and
sentence pronounc'd against him, that he is a Rogue and a Villain.
Yet, if an officer of this court receives the slightest check
for misconduct in this his office, he claims immediately the
rights of a free citizen by the constitution, and demands to
know his accuser, to confront the witnesses, and to have a fair
trial by a jury of his peers.
The Foundation of its Authority.
It is said to be founded on an Article of the Constitution of
the State, which establishes the Liberty of the Press; a Liberty
which every Pennsylvanian would fight and die for; tho' few
of us, I believe, have distinct Ideas of its Nature and Extent. It
seems indeed somewhat like the Liberty of the Press that Felons
have, by the Common Law of England, before Conviction, that
is, to be press'd to death or hanged. If by the Liberty of the
Press were understood merely the Liberty of discussing the
Propriety of Public Measures and political opinions, let us have
as much of it as you please: But if it means the Liberty of affronting,
calumniating, and defaming one another, I, for my part,
own myself willing to part With my Share of it when our Legislators
shall please so to alter the Law, and shall cheerfully consent
to exchange my Liberty of Abusing others for the Privilege
of not being abus'd myself.[503]
By whom this Court is commissioned or constituted.
It is not by any Commission from the Supreme Executive
Council, who might previously judge of the Abilities, Integrity,
Knowledge, &c. of the Persons to be appointed to this great
Trust, of deciding upon the Characters and good Fame of the
Citizens; for this Court is above that Council, and may accuse,
judge, and condemn it, at pleasure. Nor is it hereditary, as in the
Court of dernier Resort, in the Peerage of England. But any
Man who can procure Pen, Ink, and Paper, with a Press, and a
huge pair of Blacking Balls, may commissionate himself; and
his court is immediately established in the plenary Possession
and exercise of its rights. For, if you make the least complaint
of the judge's conduct, he daubs his blacking balls in your face
wherever he meets you; and, besides tearing your private character
to flitters, marks you out for the odium of the public, as
an enemy to the liberty of the press.
Of the natural Support of these Courts.
Their support is founded in the depravity of such minds, as
have not been mended by religion, nor improved by good education;
"There is a Lust in Man no Charm can tame,
Of loudly publishing his Neighbour's Shame."
Hence;
"On Eagle's Wings immortal Scandals fly,
While virtuous Actions are but born and die."
Dryden.
Whoever feels pain in hearing a good character of his neighbour,
will feel a pleasure in the reverse. And of those who,
despairing to rise into distinction by their virtues, are happy if
others can be depressed to a level with themselves, there are a
number sufficient in every great town to maintain one of these
courts by their subscriptions. A shrewd observer once said,
that, in walking the streets in a slippery morning, one might see
where the good-natured people lived by the ashes thrown on[504]
the ice before their doors; probably he would have formed a
different conjecture of the temper of those whom he might find
engaged in such a subscription.
Of the Checks proper to be established against the Abuse of Power
in these Courts.
Hitherto there are none. But since so much has been written
and published on the federal Constitution, and the necessity of
checks in all other parts of good government has been so clearly
and learnedly explained, I find myself so far enlightened as to
suspect some check may be proper in this part also; but I have
been at a loss to imagine any that may not be construed an infringement
of the sacred liberty of the press. At length, however,
I think I have found one that, instead of diminishing general
liberty, shall augment it; which is, by restoring to the people a
species of liberty, of which they have been deprived by our
laws, I mean the liberty of the cudgel. In the rude state of society
prior to the existence of laws, if one man gave another ill language,
the affronted person would return it by a box on the ear,
and, if repeated, by a good drubbing; and this without offending
against any law. But now the right of making such returns is
denied, and they are punished as breaches of the peace; while
the right of abusing seems to remain in full force, the laws made
against it being rendered ineffectual by the liberty of the press.
My proposal then is, to leave the liberty of the press untouched,
to be exercised in its full extent, force, and vigor; but
to permit the liberty of the cudgel to go with it pari passu. Thus,
my fellow-citizens, if an impudent writer attacks your reputation,
dearer to you perhaps than your life, and puts his name
to the charge, you may go to him as openly and break his head.
If he conceals himself behind the printer, and you can nevertheless
discover who he is, you may in like manner way-lay him in
the night, attack him behind, and give him a good drubbing.
Thus far goes my project as to private resentment and retribution.
But if the public should ever happen to be affronted, as it
ought to be, with the conduct of such writers, I would not advise
proceeding immediately to these extremities; but that we should[505]
in moderation content ourselves with tarring and feathering, and
tossing them in a blanket.
If, however, it should be thought that this proposal of mine may
disturb the public peace, I would then humbly recommend to
our legislators to take up the consideration of both liberties, that
of the press, and that of the cudgel, and by an explicit law mark
their extent and limits; and, at the same time that they secure the
person of a citizen from assaults, they would likewise provide
for the security of his reputation.
AN ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC
From the Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition
of Slavery, and the Relief of Free Negroes
Unlawfully Held in Bondage.[134]
It is with peculiar satisfaction we assure the friends of humanity,
that, in prosecuting the design of our association, our
endeavours have proved successful, far beyond our most sanguine
expectations.
Encouraged by this success, and by the daily progress of that
luminous and benign spirit of liberty, which is diffusing itself
throughout the world, and humbly hoping for the continuance
of the divine blessing on our labours, we have ventured to make
an important addition to our original plan, and do therefore
earnestly solicit the support and assistance of all who can feel
the tender emotions of sympathy and compassion, or relish the
exalted pleasure of beneficence.
Slavery is such an atrocious debasement of human nature,
that its very extirpation, if not performed with solicitous care,
may sometimes open a source of serious evils.
The unhappy man, who has long been treated as a brute animal,
too frequently sinks beneath the common standard of the
human species. The galling chains, that bind his body, do also
fetter his intellectual faculties, and impair the social affections
of his heart. Accustomed to move like a mere machine, by the
will of a master, reflection is suspended; he has not the power
of choice; and reason and conscience have but little influence[506]
over his conduct, because he is chiefly governed by the passion
of fear. He is poor and friendless; perhaps worn out by extreme
labour, age, and disease.
Under such circumstances, freedom may often prove a misfortune
to himself, and prejudicial to society.
Attention to emancipated black people, it is therefore to be
hoped, will become a branch of our national policy; but, as far
as we contribute to promote this emancipation, so far that
attention is evidently a serious duty incumbent on us, and
which we mean to discharge to the best of our judgment and
abilities.
To instruct, to advise, to qualify those, who have been restored
to freedom, for the exercise and enjoyment of civil liberty,
to promote in them habits of industry, to furnish them
with employments suited to their age, sex, talents, and other
circumstances, and to procure their children an education calculated
for their future situation in life; these are the great outlines
of the annexed plan, which we have adopted, and which we
conceive will essentially promote the public good, and the happiness
of these our hitherto too much neglected fellow-creatures.
A plan so extensive cannot be carried into execution without
considerable pecuniary resources, beyond the present ordinary
funds of the Society. We hope much from the generosity of
enlightened and benevolent freemen, and will gratefully receive
any donations or subscriptions for this purpose, which may be
made to our treasurer, James Starr, or to James Pemberton,
chairman of our committee of correspondence.
Signed, by order of the Society,
B. Franklin, President.
Philadelphia, 9th of
November, 1789.
TO DAVID HARTLEY
Philada, Decr 4, 1789.
My Very Dear Friend,
I received your Favor of August last. Your kind Condolences
on the painful State of my Health are very obliging. I[507]
am thankful to God, however, that, among the numerous Ills
human Life is subject to, one only of any Importance is fallen to
my Lot; and that so late as almost to insure that it can be but of
short Duration.
The Convulsions in France are attended with some disagreable
Circumstances; but if by the Struggle she obtains and secures
for the Nation its future Liberty, and a good Constitution,
a few Years' Enjoyment of those Blessings will amply repair all
the Damages their Acquisition may have occasioned.[135] God
grant, that not only the Love of Liberty, but a thorough Knowledge
of the Rights of Man, may pervade all the Nations of the
Earth, so that a Philosopher may set his Foot anywhere on its
Surface, and say, "This is my Country."
Your Wishes for a cordial and perpetual Friendship between
Britain and her ancient Colonies are manifested continually in
every one of your Letters to me; something of my Disposition
on the same Subject may appear to you in casting your Eye over
the enclosed Paper. I do not by this Opportunity send you any
of our Gazettes, because the Postage from Liverpool would be
more than they are worth. I can now only add my best Wishes
of every kind of Felicity for the three amiable Hartleys, to whom
I have the honor of being an affectionate friend and most obedient
humble servant,
[B. Franklin.]
TO EZRA STILES[136]
Philada, March 9, 1790.
Reverend and Dear Sir,
I received your kind Letter of Jan'y 28, and am glad you have
at length received the portrait of Gov'r Yale from his Family,
and deposited it in the College Library. He was a great and
good Man, and had the Merit of doing infinite Service to your
Country by his Munificence to that Institution. The Honour
you propose doing me by placing mine in the same Room with
his, is much too great for my Deserts; but you always had a
Partiality for me, and to that it must be ascribed. I am however[508]
too much obliged to Yale College, the first learned Society that
took Notice of me and adorned me with its Honours, to refuse
a Request that comes from it thro' so esteemed a Friend. But
I do not think any one of the Portraits you mention, as in my
Possession, worthy of the Place and Company you propose to
place it in. You have an excellent Artist lately arrived. If he
will undertake to make one for you, I shall cheerfully pay the
Expence; but he must not delay setting about it, or I may slip
thro' his fingers, for I am now in my eighty-fifth year, and very
infirm.
I send with this a very learned Work, as it seems to me, on
the antient Samaritan Coins, lately printed in Spain, and at
least curious for the Beauty of the Impression. Please to accept
it for your College Library. I have subscribed for the Encyclopædia
now printing here, with the Intention of presenting it to
the College. I shall probably depart before the Work is finished,
but shall leave Directions for its Continuance to the End. With
this you will receive some of the first numbers.
You desire to know something of my Religion. It is the first
time I have been questioned upon it. But I cannot take your
Curiosity amiss, and shall endeavour in a few Words to gratify
it. Here is my Creed. I believe in one God, Creator of the Universe.
That he governs it by his Providence. That he ought to
be worshipped. That the most acceptable Service we render to
him is doing good to his other Children. That the soul of Man
is immortal, and will be treated with Justice in another Life respecting
its Conduct in this. These I take to be the fundamental
Principles of all sound Religion, and I regard them as
you do in whatever Sect I meet with them.
As to Jesus of Nazareth, my Opinion of whom you particularly
desire, I think the System of Morals and his Religion, as
he left them to us, the best the World ever saw or is likely to
see; but I apprehend it has received various corrupting Changes,
and I have, with most of the present Dissenters in England,
some Doubts as to his Divinity; tho' it is a question I do not
dogmatize upon, having never studied it, and think it needless
to busy myself with it now, when I expect soon an Opportunity[509]
of knowing the Truth with less Trouble. I see no harm, however,
in its being believed, if that Belief has the good Consequence,
as probably it has, of making his Doctrines more
respected and better observed; especially as I do not perceive,
that the Supreme takes it amiss, by distinguishing the Unbelievers
in his Government of the World with any peculiar
Marks of his Displeasure.
I shall only add, respecting myself, that, having experienced
the Goodness of that Being in conducting me prosperously
thro' a long life, I have no doubt of its Continuance in the next,
though without the smallest Conceit of meriting such Goodness.
My Sentiments on this Head you will see in the Copy of
an old Letter enclosed, which I wrote in answer to one from a
zealous Religionist, whom I had relieved in a paralytic case by
electricity, and who, being afraid I should grow proud upon it,
sent me his serious though rather impertinent Caution. I send
you also the Copy of another Letter, which will shew something
of my Disposition relating to Religion. With great and sincere
Esteem and Affection, I am, Your obliged old Friend and most
obedient humble Servant
B. Franklin.
P.S. Had not your College some Present of Books from the
King of France? Please to let me know, if you had an Expectation
given you of more, and the Nature of that Expectation? I
have a Reason for the Enquiry.
I confide, that you will not expose me to Criticism and censure
by publishing any part of this Communication to you. I
have ever let others enjoy their religious Sentiments, without
reflecting on them for those that appeared to me unsupportable
and even absurd. All Sects here, and we have a great Variety,
have experienced my good will in assisting them with Subscriptions
for building their new Places of Worship; and, as I
have never opposed any of their Doctrines, I hope to go out of
the World in Peace with them all.
[510]
ON THE SLAVE-TRADE
TO THE EDITOR OF THE FEDERAL GAZETTE[137]
March 23d, 1790.
Sir,
Reading last night in your excellent Paper the speech of Mr.
Jackson in Congress against their meddling with the Affair of
Slavery, or attempting to mend the Condition of the Slaves, it
put me in mind of a similar One made about 100 Years since by
Sidi Mehemet Ibrahim, a member of the Divan of Algiers, which
may be seen in Martin's Account of his Consulship, anno 1687.
It was against granting the Petition of the Sect called Erika, or
Purists, who pray'd for the Abolition of Piracy and Slavery as
being unjust. Mr. Jackson does not quote it; perhaps he has not
seen it. If, therefore, some of its Reasonings are to be found in
his eloquent Speech, it may only show that men's Interests and
Intellects operate and are operated on with surprising similarity
in all Countries and Climates, when under similar Circumstances.
The African's Speech, as translated, is as follows:
"Allah Bismillah, &c. God is great, and Mahomet is his Prophet.
"Have these Erika considered the Consequences of granting
their Petition? If we cease our Cruises against the Christians,
how shall we be furnished with the Commodities their Countries
produce, and which are so necessary for us? If we forbear
to make Slaves of their People, who in this hot Climate are to
cultivate our Lands? Who are to perform the common Labours
of our City, and in our Families? Must we not then be our own
Slaves? And is there not more Compassion and more Favour
due to us as Mussulmen, than to these Christian Dogs? We
have now above 50,000 Slaves in and near Algiers. This Number,
if not kept up by fresh Supplies, will soon diminish, and
be gradually annihilated. If we then cease taking and plundering
the Infidel Ships, and making Slaves of the Seamen and Passengers,
our Lands will become of no Value for want of Cultivation;
the Rents of Houses in the City will sink one half; and[511]
the Revenues of Government arising from its Share of Prizes
be totally destroy'd! And for what? To gratify the whims of
a whimsical Sect, who would have us, not only forbear making
more Slaves, but even to manumit those we have.
"But who is to indemnify their Masters for the Loss? Will
the State do it? Is our Treasury sufficient? Will the Erika do
it? Can they do it? Or would they, to do what they think Justice
to the Slaves, do a greater Injustice to the Owners? And if
we set our Slaves free, what is to be done with them? Few of
them will return to their Countries; they know too well the
greater Hardships they must there be subject to; they will not
embrace our holy Religion; they will not adopt our Manners;
our People will not pollute themselves by intermarrying with
them. Must we maintain them as Beggars in our Streets, or
suffer our Properties to be the Prey of their Pillage? For Men
long accustom'd to Slavery will not work for a Livelihood when
not compell'd. And what is there so pitiable in their present
Condition? Were they not Slaves in their own Countries?
"Are not Spain, Portugal, France, and the Italian states govern'd
by Despots, who hold all their Subjects in Slavery, without
Exception? Even England treats its Sailors as Slaves; for they
are, whenever the Government pleases, seiz'd, and confin'd in
Ships of War, condemn'd not only to work, but to fight, for
small Wages, or a mere Subsistence, not better than our Slaves
are allow'd by us. Is their Condition then made worse by their
falling into our Hands? No; they have only exchanged one
Slavery for another, and I may say a better; for here they are
brought into a Land where the Sun of Islamism gives forth its
Light, and shines in full Splendor, and they have an Opportunity
of making themselves acquainted with the true Doctrine,
and thereby saving their immortal Souls. Those who remain
at home have not that Happiness. Sending the Slaves home
then would be sending them out of Light into Darkness.
"I repeat the Question, What is to be done with them? I
have heard it suggested, that they may be planted in the Wilderness,
where there is plenty of Land for them to subsist on, and
where they may flourish as a free State; but they are, I doubt,[512]
too little dispos'd to labour without Compulsion, as well as too
ignorant to establish a good government, and the wild Arabs
would soon molest and destroy or again enslave them. While
serving us, we take care to provide them with every thing, and
they are treated with Humanity. The Labourers in their own
Country are, as I am well informed, worse fed, lodged, and
cloathed. The Condition of most of them is therefore already
mended, and requires no further Improvement. Here their Lives
are in Safety. They are not liable to be impress'd for Soldiers,
and forc'd to cut one another's Christian Throats, as in the
Wars of their own Countries. If some of the religious mad
Bigots, who now teaze us with their silly Petitions, have in a
Fit of blind Zeal freed their Slaves, it was not Generosity, it was
not Humanity, that mov'd them to the Action; it was from the
conscious Burthen of a Load of Sins, and Hope, from the supposed
Merits of so good a Work, to be excus'd Damnation.
"How grossly are they mistaken in imagining Slavery to be
disallow'd by the Alcoran! Are not the two Precepts, to quote
no more, 'Masters, treat your Slaves with kindness; Slaves, serve
your Masters with Cheerfulness and Fidelity,' clear Proofs to
the contrary? Nor can the Plundering of Infidels be in that
sacred Book forbidden, since it is well known from it, that God
has given the World, and all that it contains, to his faithful Mussulmen,
who are to enjoy it of Right as fast as they conquer it.
Let us then hear no more of this detestable Proposition, the
Manumission of Christian Slaves, the Adoption of which would,
by depreciating our Lands and Houses, and thereby depriving
so many good Citizens of their Properties, create universal Discontent,
and provoke Insurrections, to the endangering of
Government and producing general Confusion. I have therefore
no doubt, but this wise Council will prefer the Comfort
and Happiness of a whole Nation of true Believers to the Whim
of a few Erika, and dismiss their Petition."
The Result was, as Martin tells us, that the Divan came to
this Resolution; "The Doctrine, that Plundering and Enslaving
the Christians is unjust, is at best problematical, but that it is the[513]
Interest of this State to continue the Practice, is clear; therefore
let the Petition be rejected."
And it was rejected accordingly.
And since like Motives are apt to produce in the Minds of
Men like Opinions and Resolutions, may we not, Mr. Brown,
venture to predict, from this Account, that the Petitions to the
Parliament of England for abolishing the Slave-Trade, to say
nothing of other Legislatures, and the Debates upon them, will
have a similar Conclusion? I am, Sir, your constant Reader
and humble Servant,
Historicus.
REMARKS CONCERNING THE SAVAGES
OF NORTH AMERICA[138]
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 Counsel
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[514]
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
Williamsburg a College, with a Fund for Educating Indian
youth; and that, if the Six Nations would send down half a
dozen of their young Lads 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
deferr'd 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
convinc'd, 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, or 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 oblig'd by your kind Offer, tho' 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."[515]
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 Traditions of the Stipulations in
Treaties 100 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 finish'd and
sits down, they leave him 5 or 6 Minutes to recollect, that, if he
has omitted any thing he intended to say, or has any thing to
add, he may rise again and deliver it. To interrupt another,
even in common Conversation, is reckon'd 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
suffer'd 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 explain'd to them, and give their usual Tokens of
Assent and Approbation; you would think they were convinc'd.
No such matter. It is mere Civility.
A Swedish Minister, having assembled the chiefs of the Susquehanah
Indians, made a Sermon to them, acquainting them
with the principal historical Facts on which our Religion is[516]
founded; such as the Fall of our first Parents by eating an
Apple, the coming of Christ to repair the Mischief, his Miracles
and Suffering, &c. When he had finished, an Indian Orator
stood up to thank him. "What you have told us," says he, "is
all very good. It is indeed bad to eat Apples. It is better to
make them all into Cyder. We are much oblig'd by your kindness
in coming so far, to tell us these 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 kill'd a Deer, made a Fire in the Woods to
broil some Part 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 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 pleas'd 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 Generation.' 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 touch'd it, they found Kidney-Beans; and where
her Backside 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 Falshood." The Indian, offended, reply'd,
"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, believ'd all your stories; why do you
refuse to believe ours?"
When any of them come into our Towns, our People are apt[517]
to crowd round 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 entring one another's village has likewise its
Rules. It is reckon'd 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
hollow, 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 plac'd, while the old Men go round from Hut to Hut,
acquainting the Inhabitants, that Strangers are arriv'd, 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 refresh'd, Pipes and Tobacco are brought; and
then, but not before. Conversation begins, with Enquiries who
they are, whither bound, what News, &c.; and it usually ends
with offers of Service, if the Strangers have occasion of Guides,
or any Necessaries for continuing their Journey; and nothing is
exacted for the Entertainment.
The same Hospitality, esteem'd among them as a principal
Virtue, is practis'd by private Persons; of which Conrad Weiser,
our Interpreter, gave me the following Instance. He had been
naturaliz'd among the Six Nations, and spoke well the Mohock
Language. In going thro' the Indian Country, to carry a
Message from our Governor to the Council at Onondaga, he
call'd at the Habitation of Canassatego, an old Acquaintance,
who embrac'd him, spread Furs for him to sit on, plac'd before
him some boil'd Beans and Venison, and mix'd some Rum and
Water for his Drink. When he was well refresh'd, and had lit
his Pipe, Canassatego began to converse with him; ask'd how
he had far'd the many Years since they had seen each other;[518]
whence he then came; what occasion'd the Journey, &c. Conrad
answered all his Questions; and when the Discourse began
to flag, the Indian, to continue it, said, "Conrad, you have lived
long among the white People, and know something of their
Customs; I have been sometimes at Albany, and have observed,
that once in Seven Days they shut up their Shops, and assemble
all in the great House; tell me what it is for? What do they do
there?" "They meet there," says Conrad, "to hear and learn
good Things." "I do not doubt," says the Indian, "that they
tell you so; they have told me the same; but I doubt the Truth
of what they say, and I will tell you my Reasons. I went lately
to Albany to sell my Skins and buy Blankets, Knives, Powder,
Rum, &c. You know I us'd generally to deal with Hans
Hanson; but I was a little inclin'd this time to try some other
Merchant. However, I call'd first upon Hans, and asked him
what he would give for Beaver. He said he could not give any
more than four Shillings a Pound; 'but,' says he, 'I cannot talk
on Business now; this is the Day when we meet together to
learn Good Things, and I am going to the Meeting.' So I
thought to myself, 'Since we cannot do any Business to-day, I
may as well go to the meeting too,' and I went with him. There
stood up a Man in Black, and began to talk to the People very
angrily. I did not understand what he said; but, perceiving that
he look'd much at me and at Hanson, I imagin'd he was angry
at seeing me there; so I went out, sat down near the House,
struck Fire, and lit my Pipe, waiting till the Meeting should
break up. I thought too, that the Man had mention'd something
of Beaver, and I suspected it might be the Subject of their
Meeting. So, when they came out, I accosted my Merchant.
'Well, Hans,' says I, 'I hope you have agreed to give more than
four Shillings a Pound.' 'No,' says he, 'I cannot give so much;
I cannot give more than three shillings and sixpence.' I then
spoke to several other Dealers, but they all sung the same song,—Three
and sixpence,—Three and sixpence. This made it
clear to me, that my Suspicion was right; and, that whatever
they pretended of meeting to learn good Things, the real purpose
was to consult how to cheat Indians in the Price of Beaver.[519]
Consider but a little, Conrad, and you must be of my Opinion.
If they met so often to learn good Things, they would certainly
have learnt some before this time. But they are still ignorant.
You know our Practice. If a white Man, in travelling thro' our
Country, enters one of our Cabins, we all treat him as I treat
you; we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, we give
him Meat and Drink, that he may allay his Thirst and Hunger;
and we spread soft Furs for him to rest and sleep on; we demand
nothing in return. But, if I go into a white Man's House at
Albany, and ask for Victuals and Drink, they say, 'Where is
your Money?' and if I have none, they say, 'Get out, you Indian
Dog.' You see they have not yet learned those little Good
Things, that we need no Meetings to be instructed in, because
our Mothers taught them to us when we were Children; and
therefore it is impossible their Meetings should be, as they say,
for any such purpose, or have any such Effect; they are only to
contrive the Cheating of Indians in the Price of Beaver."
Note.—It is remarkable that in all Ages and Countries Hospitality has
been allow'd as the Virtue of those whom the civiliz'd were pleas'd to call
Barbarians. The Greeks celebrated the Scythians for it. The Saracens
possess'd it eminently, and it is to this day the reigning Virtue of the wild
Arabs. St. Paul, too, in the Relation of his Voyage and Shipwreck on the
Island of Melita says the Barbarous People shewed us no little kindness;
for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, because of the present
Rain, and because of the Cold. [Franklin's note.]
AN ARABIAN TALE[139]
Albumazar, the good magician, retired in his old age to
the top of the lofty mountain Calabut; avoided the society of
men, but was visited nightly by genii and spirits of the first
rank, who loved him, and amused him with their instructive
conversation.
Belubel, the strong, came one evening to see Albumazar; his
height was seven leagues, and his wings when spread might
overshadow a kingdom. He laid himself gently down between
the long ridges of Elluem; the tops of the trees in the valley
were his couch; his head rested on Calabut as on a pillow, and
his face shone on the tent of Albumazar.[520]
The magician spoke to him with rapturous piety of the wisdom
and goodness of the Most High; but expressed his wonder
at the existence of evil in the world, which he said he could not
account for by all the efforts of his reason.
"Value not thyself, my friend," said Belubel, "on that quality
which thou callest reason. If thou knewest its origin and its
weakness, it would rather be matter of humiliation."
"Tell me then," said Albumazar, "what I do not know; inform
my ignorance, and enlighten my understanding." "Contemplate,"
said Albumazar [sic. Belubel], "the scale of beings, from
an elephant down to an oyster. Thou seest a gradual diminution
of faculties and powers, so small in each step that the difference
is scarce perceptible. There is no gap, but the gradation is
complete. Men in general do not know, but thou knowest,
that in ascending from an elephant to the infinitely Great, Good,
and Wise, there is also a long gradation of beings, who possess
powers and faculties of which thou canst yet have no conception."
A PETITION OF THE LEFT HAND
TO THOSE WHO HAVE THE SUPERINTENDENCY OF EDUCATION
[Date unknown]
I address myself to all the friends of youth, and conjure them
to direct their compassionate regards to my unhappy fate, in
order to remove the prejudices of which I am the victim. There
are twin sisters of us; and the two eyes of man do not more
resemble, nor are capable of being upon better terms with each
other, than my sister and myself, were it not for the partiality
of our parents, who make the most injurious distinctions between
us. From my infancy, I have been led to consider my
sister as a being of a more elevated rank. I was suffered to grow
up without the least instruction, while nothing was spared in
her education. She had masters to teach her writing, drawing,
music, and other accomplishments; but if by chance I touched
a pencil, a pen, or a needle, I was bitterly rebuked; and more
than once I have been beaten for being awkward, and wanting[521]
a graceful manner. It is true, my sister associated me with her
upon some occasions; but she always made a point of taking
the lead, calling upon me only from necessity, or to figure by
her side.
But conceive not, Sirs, that my complaints are instigated
merely by vanity. No; my uneasiness is occasioned by an
object much more serious. It is the practice in our family, that
the whole business of providing for its subsistence falls upon
my sister and myself. If any indisposition should attack my
sister,—and I mention it in confidence upon this occasion, that
she is subject to the gout, the rheumatism, and cramp, without
making mention of other accidents,—what would be the fate of
our poor family? Must not the regret of our parents be excessive,
at having placed so great a difference between sisters who
are so perfectly equal? Alas! we must perish from distress; for
it would not be in my power even to scrawl a suppliant petition
for relief, having been obliged to employ the hand of another
in transcribing the request which I have now the honour to
prefer to you.
Condescend, Sirs, to make my parents sensible of the injustice
of an exclusive tenderness, and of the necessity of distributing
their care and affection among all their children
equally. I am, with a profound respect, Sirs, your obedient
servant,
The Left Hand.
SOME GOOD WHIG PRINCIPLES
[Date unknown]
Declaration of those Rights of the Commonalty of
Great Britain, without which they cannot be FREE.
It is declared,
First, That the government of this realm, and the making of
laws for the same, ought to be lodged in the hands of King,
Lords of Parliament, and Representatives of the whole body of
the freemen of this realm.
Secondly, That every man of the commonalty (excepting[522]
infants, insane persons, and criminals) is, of common right, and
by the laws of God, a freeman, and entitled to the free enjoyment
of liberty.
Thirdly, That liberty, or freedom, consists in having an
actual share in the appointment of those who frame the laws,
and who are to be the guardians of every man's life, property,
and peace; for the all of one man is as dear to him as the all of
another; and the poor man has an equal right, but more need,
to have representatives in the legislature than the rich one.
Fourthly, That they who have no voice nor vote in the electing
of representatives, do not enjoy liberty; but are absolutely
enslaved to those who have votes, and to their representatives;
for to be enslaved is to have governors whom other men have
set over us, and be subject to laws made by the representatives of
others, without having had representatives of our own to give
consent in our behalf.
Fifthly, That a very great majority of the commonalty of this
realm are denied the privilege of voting for representatives in
Parliament; and, consequently, they are enslaved to a small
number, who do now enjoy the privilege exclusively to themselves;
but who, it may be presumed, are far from wishing to
continue in the exclusive possession of a privilege, by which
their fellow-subjects are deprived of common right, of justice, of
liberty; and which, if not communicated to all, must speedily
cause the certain overthrow of our happy constitution, and enslave
us all.
And, sixthly and lastly, We also say and do assert, that it is
the right of the commonalty of this realm to elect a new House
of Commons once in every year, according to the ancient and
sacred laws of the land; because, whenever a Parliament continues
in being for a longer term, very great numbers of the
commonalty, who have arrived at years of manhood since the
last election, and therefore have a right to be actually represented
in the House of Commons, are then unjustly deprived of that
right.[523]
THE ART OF PROCURING PLEASANT DREAMS
INSCRIBED TO MISS [SHIPLEY], BEING WRITTEN AT HER
REQUEST[140]
As a great part of our life is spent in sleep during which we
have sometimes pleasant and sometimes 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 dream, 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.[524]
Another means of preserving health, to be attended to, is the
having a constant supply of fresh air in your bed-chamber. 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 chamber-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 an 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 an 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 be then cured of the aërophobia, that at present distresses
weak minds, and makes them choose to be stifled and poisoned,
rather than leave open the window of a bed-chamber, or put
down the glass of a coach.
Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter, will
not receive more; and that matter must remain in our bodies,
and occasion diseases; but it gives some previous notice of its[525]
being about to be hurtful, by producing certain uneasiness,
slight indeed at first, which 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 fidgettiness (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 bed-clothes
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 bed-clothes, 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 part of that vapour,
receives therewith a degree of heat that rarefies and renders it
lighter, when it will be pushed away with its burthen, 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.
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)[526]
less perspirable matter is produced in a given time; hence the
bed-clothes 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 bed-clothes, 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 bed-clothes well, with at least twenty shakes,
then throw the bed open and leave it to cool; in the meanwhile,
continuing undrest, walk about your chamber till your skin has
had time to discharge its load, which it will do sooner as the
air may be dried 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 bed-clothes 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 afterwards. 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[527]
your ankles; 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.
[528]
[529]
NOTES
References are to Franklin's Writings, edited by A. H. Smyth, 10 vols.,
1905-1907.
[530]
[531]
[532]
[533]
[534]
[535]
[536]
[537]
[538]
[539]
[540]
[541]
[542]
[543]
[544]
Transcriber's Notes:
5. Minor punctuation corrections have been made without comment and
include missing or misplaced periods, opening or closing quotation
marks and parentheses, apostrophes, hypens, etc., however no
punctuation has been added, a specific example being on:
p. 281, In the speech of "Father Abraham", p. 281-288, added closing
quote at end of speech to match opening quote at beginning, however
intervening paragraphs are without quote punctuation in the original
and have been retained so in this e-text.
6. Minor spacing corrections have been made as follows:
- p. v, Contents, page numbers have been right justified in a column.
- p. 13, "some how" to "somehow" (was once somehow or other)
- p. 21 "De foe" to "Defoe" (Defoe in his Cruso)
- p. 206, replaced blank space with double emdash, (are under ---- Years of Age)
- p. 410, "TitlePage" to "Title Page" (Lines in the Title Page)
7. p. 3, In "Selections from BENJAMIN FRANKLIN", moved note about the
"Notes" section from the bottom to the top of selection, above the
header, as it pertains to ALL remaining pages.
8. SPELLING CORRECTIONS: (not otherwise marked by editor)
- p. xxxix, "strengthned" to "strengthened" (14) (strengthened by long prescription)
- p. ci, "transfererd" to "transferred" (1) (transferred from the Penn Charter) (in Footnote i-327)
- *p. 9, "Wharf" to "Wharff" (My proposal was to build a Wharff)
- p. 16, "Shaftsbury" to "Shaftesbury" (33) (reading Shaftesbury and Collins)
- p. 67, "preceeding" to "preceding" (16) (a preceding Wife)
- p. 184, "hear" to "here" (I have here described)
- *p. 266, "harrassed" to "harassed" (past has harassed them)
- *p. 369, "harrassed" to "harassed" (order them to be harassed)
- p. 347, "exhilirates" to "exhilerates" (exhilerates me more)
- p. 451, "Univers" to "Universe" (greatest in the Universe;)
*Correction made because word occurs correctly or alternately spelled
elsewhere in the SAME document.
9. WORD VARIATIONS: (found to be valid spellings in W. E. D.)
- "abovementioned" (1) and "above-mentioned" (1)
- "abridgment" (15) and "abridgement" (2)
- "agreable" (11) and "agreeable" (26)
- "ale-house" (1) and "alehouse" (1)
- "Algernon Sidney" (1) and "Algernoon Sidney" (1)
- "allege" (7) and "alledge" (2)
- "Almanac" (10) and "Almanack" (38)
- "antient" (15) and "ancient" (50)
- "apetite" (1) and "appetite" (7)
- "arithmetic" (9) and "arithmetick" (5)
- "balance" (13) and "ballance" (5)
- "beforementioned" (1) and "before-mentioned" (1)
- "bias" (4) and "biass" (2)
- "Boulogne" (2) and "Bouloigne" (1)
- "boundlessly" (1) and "boundlesly" (1)
- "Brientnal" (3) (in Autobiography), "Breintnal" (1) (in Introduction)
- and "Breintnall" (3) (in footnotes)
- "Broussonet" (1) and "Broussonnet" (1)
- "burden" (7) and "burthen" (12)
- "Cabin" (5) and "Cabbin" (2)
- "Caesar" (1) and "Cesar" (1)
- "characteris'd" (1) and "characterized" (1)
- "chearfulness" (1) and "cheerfulness" (1)
- "Chelsea" (2) and "Chelsey" (1)
- "Chesnut Street" (1) and "Chestnut Street" (1)
- "chuse" (8) and "choose" (7)
- "Classics" (2) and "Classicks" (1)
- "Clothes" (4) and "Cloaths" (4)
- "Coffee House" (2) and "Coffee-house" (2)
- "compleat" (10) and "complete" (11)
- "control" (3) and "controul" (4)
- "courthouse" (1) and "court-house" (1)
- "croud" (3) and "crowd" (12)
- "Curiositee" (1) and "Curiosity" (8)
- "Customhouse" (1) and "Custom-house" (1)
- "d'Alibard" (2) and "Dalibared" (2)
- "dependence" (5) and "dependance" (6)
- "disagreable" (3) and "disagreeable" (5)
- "drove" (3) and "drave" (1)
- "Edinborough" (1) and "Edinburgh" (9)
- "Eliptic" (1) and "Eliptick" (1)
- "Encyclopædia" (4) and "Encyclopedia" (2)
- "Encyclopædists" (2) and "Encyclopedists" (1)
- "enlightened" (2) and "enlightned" (2)
- "enter" (7) and "entre" (5)
- "entitled" (8) and "entituled" (Old Fr. Sp.) (2)
- "expel" (1) and "expell" (1)
- "Expence" (22) and "Expense" (3)
- "extreme" (21) and "extream" (26)
- "Falsehood" (2) and "Falshood" (4)
- "Favor" (1) and "Favour" (26)
- "fixt" (3) and "fixed" (14)
- "Folger" (1) and "Folgier" (1) (Peter ----)
- "foretell" (1) and "fortel" (1)
- "Free-will" (1) and "Free-Will" (1)
- "froze" (2) and "Frose" (1)
- "Good-Will" (1), "Good-will" (3), and "Goodwill" (1)
- "Governor" (47) and "Governour" (1)
- "Grub-Street" (1) and "Grub-street" (1)
- "Hawksworth" (1) and "Hawkesworth" (4)
- "hainous" (1) and "heinous" (1)
- "height" (6), "heigth" (1), and "heighth" (1)
- "hindered" (2) and "hindred" (1)
- "home-spun" (1) and "homespun" (1)
- "Humor" (1) and "Humour" (5)
- "Ill-will" (2) and "Ill-Will" (1)
- "Increase" (114) and "Encrease" (8)
- "indiscrete" (1) and "indiscreet" (3)
- "intolerable" (2) and "intollerable" (1)
- "Jealousy" (3) and "Jealousie" (1)
- "Job" (12) and "Jobb" (4) (as in work)
- "Joli" (1) and "Joly" (3) (Moulin ----)
- "Journey-man" (1),"Journeyman('s)" (3) and JourneyMen (1)
- "Knicknacks" (1) and "Nicknack" (1)
- "Labors" (1) and "Labours" (5)
- "land-holder" (1) and "Land-holder" (1)
- "Latinè" (1) and "Latine" (1)
- "laught" (3) and "laughed" (3)
- "Linnaeus" (1) and "Linnæus" (2) (a Naturalist)
- "Livlihood" (4) and "Livelyhood" (1)
- "Mama" (1) and "Mamma" (1)
- "mankind" (35) and "man-kind" (1) (in quoted material)
- "Mathmatics" (4) and "Mathmaticks" (1)
- "Mechanic" (7) and "Mechanick" (4)
- "melancholy" (4) and "melancholly" (2)
- "Merchandise" (1) and "Merchandize" (2)
- "middle-ag'd" (1) and "middle-aged" (1)
- "music" (7) and "musick" (4)
- *"natural" (193) and "naturall" (1) (in Bacon Quote)
- "Negro" (3) and "Negroe" (11)
- "Neighbor" (1) and "Neighbour" (11)
- "News-Paper" (2) and "NewsPapers" (1)
- "News-writers" (1) and "Newswriters" (1)
- "nonsense" (5) and "nonsence" (1)
- *"obtain" (28) and "obteyn" (1) (in Mather quote)
- "Offence" (14) and "Offense" (2)
- "Optics" (1) and "Opticks" (1)
- "partial" (7) and "partiall" (1)
- "Penny-worth" (1) and "Pennyworth(s)" (1)
- "Pennsylvania" (159) and "Pensilvania" (15) and "Pensylvania" (1)
- "persuaded" (16) and "perswaded" (2)
- "Physic" (1) and "Physick" (2)
- "Polly" (9) and "Polley" (1) (---- Stevenson)
- "Portrait" (9) and "Pourtrait" (1)
- "possest" (1) and "possessed" (10)
- "printing-house" (2), "Printing-house" (2), "Printing-House" (7) and
- "Printinghouse" (2)
- "Priviledge" (1) and "Privilege" (3)
- "Public" (22) and "Publick" (43)
- *"Puffendorf" (3) and "Puffendorff" (1)
- "rejoicing" (5) and "rejoycing" (1)
- "rendered" (7) and "rendred" (1)
- "rendering" (3) and "rendring" (1)
- "Rhetoric" (6) and "Rhetorick" (1)
- "rhime" (3) and "rhyme" (3)
- "Rhode Island" (4) and "Rhodeisland" (3)
- "Ribands" (1) and "Ribbands" (4)
- "Rochefoucauld" (2), "Rochefoucault" (1) and "Larochefoucault" (1)
- "role" (5) and rôle (2)
- "rouse" (1) and "rouze" (1)
- "satirize" (1) and "satyrize" (1)
- "Scolar" (7) and "Scollar" (1)
- "seacoasts" (1) and "sea-coasts" (1)
- "Silinc" (1) and "Silence" (4) (---- Dogood)
- "smoke" (3) and "smoak" (2)
- "soured" (1) and "sowred" (1)
- "staied" (2) and "stayed" (2)
- "straight" (4) and "strait" (8)
- "subtle" (1) and "subtile" (1)
- "sunset" (1) and "sun-set" (1)
- "surprise" (11) and "surprize" (16)
- "Surveyor-General" (1) and "Surveyor General" (2)
- "Susquehannah" (1), "Susquehanah" (1) and "Sasquehannah" (1)
- "threatened" (5) and "threatned" (1)
- "tiger" (1) and "tyger" (1)
- "to-day" (6) (in text) and "today" (5)
- "topic" (2) and "topick" (1)
- "Une loge" (1) and "Un loge" (1)
- "virtuous" (19) and "vertuous" (1)
- "Watergruel" (1) and "Water-gruel" (1)
- "wellmeaning (1) and "well-meaning" (1)
- "wondered" (4) and "wondred" (1)
- "Wool" (3) and "Wooll" (4)
(* found within directly quoted material)
10. Several instances of mixed case words appear in the text as follows:
footPath, JourneyMen, mySelf, thySelf, etc., and have been retained.