the international scientific series the new physics and its evolution by lucien poincarÉ inspéctéur-general de l'instruction publique being the authorized translation of _la physique moderne, son Évolution_ new york d. appleton and company prefatory note m. lucien poincaré is one of the distinguished family of mathematicians which has during the last few years given a minister of finance to the republic and a president to the académie des sciences. he is also one of the nineteen inspectors-general of public instruction who are charged with the duty of visiting the different universities and _lycées_ in france and of reporting upon the state of the studies there pursued. hence he is in an excellent position to appreciate at its proper value the extraordinary change which has lately revolutionized physical science, while his official position has kept him aloof from the controversies aroused by the discovery of radium and by recent speculations on the constitution of matter. m. poincaré's object and method in writing the book are sufficiently explained in the preface which follows; but it may be remarked that the best of methods has its defects, and the excessive condensation which has alone made it possible to include the last decade's discoveries in physical science within a compass of some pages has, perhaps, made the facts here noted assimilable with difficulty by the untrained reader. to remedy this as far as possible, i have prefixed to the present translation a table of contents so extended as to form a fairly complete digest of the book, while full indexes of authors and subjects have also been added. the few notes necessary either for better elucidation of the terms employed, or for giving account of discoveries made while these pages were passing through the press, may be distinguished from the author's own by the signature "ed." the editor. royal institution of great britain, april . author's preface during the last ten years so many works have accumulated in the domain of physics, and so many new theories have been propounded, that those who follow with interest the progress of science, and even some professed scholars, absorbed as they are in their own special studies, find themselves at sea in a confusion more apparent than real. it has therefore occurred to me that it might be useful to write a book which, while avoiding too great insistence on purely technical details, should try to make known the general results at which physicists have lately arrived, and to indicate the direction and import which should be ascribed to those speculations on the constitution of matter, and the discussions on the nature of first principles, to which it has become, so to speak, the fashion of the present day to devote oneself. i have endeavoured throughout to rely only on the experiments in which we can place the most confidence, and, above all, to show how the ideas prevailing at the present day have been formed, by tracing their evolution, and rapidly examining the successive transformations which have brought them to their present condition. in order to understand the text, the reader will have no need to consult any treatise on physics, for i have throughout given the necessary definitions and set forth the fundamental facts. moreover, while strictly employing exact expressions, i have avoided the use of mathematical language. algebra is an admirable tongue, but there are many occasions where it can only be used with much discretion. nothing would be easier than to point out many great omissions from this little volume; but some, at all events, are not involuntary. certain questions which are still too confused have been put on one side, as have a few others which form an important collection for a special study to be possibly made later. thus, as regards electrical phenomena, the relations between electricity and optics, as also the theories of ionization, the electronic hypothesis, etc., have been treated at some length; but it has not been thought necessary to dilate upon the modes of production and utilization of the current, upon the phenomena of magnetism, or upon all the applications which belong to the domain of electrotechnics. l. poincarÉ. contents editor's prefatory note author's preface table of contents chapter i the evolution of physics revolutionary change in modern physics only apparent: evolution not revolution the rule in physical theory-- revival of metaphysical speculation and influence of descartes: all phenomena reduced to matter and movement-- modern physicists challenge this: physical, unlike mechanical, phenomena seldom reversible--two schools, one considering experimental laws imperative, the other merely studying relations of magnitudes: both teach something of truth--third or eclectic school-- is mechanics a branch of electrical science? chapter ii measurements § . metrology: lord kelvin's view of its necessity-- its definition § . the measure of length: necessity for unit-- absolute length--history of standard--description of standard metre--unit of wave-lengths preferable--the international metre § . the measure of mass: distinction between mass and weight--objections to legal kilogramme and its precision--possible improvement § . the measure of time: unit of time the second--alternative units proposed--improvements in chronometry and invar § . the measure of temperature: fundamental and derived units--ordinary unit of temperature purely arbitrary--absolute unit mass of h at pressure of m. of hg at ° c.--divergence of thermometric and thermodynamic scales--helium thermometer for low, thermo-electric couple for high, temperatures--lummer and pringsheim's improvements in thermometry. § . derived units and measure of energy: importance of erg as unit--calorimeter usual means of determination--photometric units. § . measure of physical constants: constant of gravitation--discoveries of cavendish, vernon boys, eötvös, richarz and krigar-menzel--michelson's improvements on fizeau and foucault's experiments-- measure of speed of light. chapter iii principles § . the principles of physics: the principles of mechanics affected by recent discoveries--is mass indestructible?--landolt and heydweiller's experiments --lavoisier's law only approximately true--curie's principle of symmetry. § . the principle of the conservation of energy: its evolution: bernoulli, lavoisier and laplace, young, rumford, davy, sadi carnot, and robert mayer--mayer's drawbacks--error of those who would make mechanics part of energetics--verdet's predictions--rankine inventor of energetics--usefulness of work as standard form of energy--physicists who think matter form of energy-- objections to this--philosophical value of conservation doctrine. § . the principle of carnot and clausius: originality of carnot's principle that fall of temperature necessary for production of work by heat-- clausius' postulate that heat cannot pass from cold to hot body without accessory phenomena--entropy result of this--definition of entropy--entropy tends to increase incessantly--a magnitude which measures evolution of system--clausius' and kelvin's deduction that heat end of all energy in universe--objection to this-- carnot's principle not necessarily referable to mechanics --brownian movements--lippmann's objection to kinetic hypothesis. § . thermodynamics: historical work of massieu, willard gibbs, helmholtz, and duhem--willard gibbs founder of thermodynamic statics, van t'hoff its reviver--the phase law--raveau explains it without thermodynamics. § . atomism: connection of subject with preceding hannequin's essay on the atomic hypothesis--molecular physics in disfavour--surface-tension, etc., vanishes when molecule reached--size of molecule--kinetic theory of gases--willard gibbs and boltzmann introduce into it law of probabilities--mean free path of gaseous molecules--application to optics--final division of matter. chapter iv the various states of matter § . the statics of fluids: researches of andrews, cailletet, and others on liquid and gaseous states-- amagat's experiments--van der waals' equation--discovery of corresponding states--amagat's superposed diagrams--exceptions to law--statics of mixed fluids-- kamerlingh onnes' researches--critical constants-- characteristic equation of fluid not yet ascertainable. § . the liquefaction of gases and low temperatures: linde's, siemens', and claude's methods of liquefying gases--apparatus of claude described--dewar's experiments--modification of electrical properties of matter by extreme cold: of magnetic and chemical-- vitality of bacteria unaltered--ramsay's discovery of rare gases of atmosphere--their distribution in nature--liquid hydrogen--helium. § . solids and liquids: continuity of solid and liquid states--viscosity common to both--also rigidity-- spring's analogies of solids and liquids--crystallization --lehmann's liquid crystals--their existence doubted --tamman's view of discontinuity between crystalline and liquid states. § . the deformation of solids: elasticity-- hoocke's, bach's, and bouasse's researches--voigt on the elasticity of crystals--elastic and permanent deformations--brillouin's states of unstable equilibria--duhem and the thermodynamic postulates-- experimental confirmation--guillaume's researches on nickel steel--alloys. chapter v solutions and electrolytic dissociation § . solution: kirchhoff's, gibb's, duhem's and van t'hoff's researches. § . osmosis: history of phenomenon--traube and biologists establish existence of semi-permeable walls--villard's experiments with gases--pfeffer shows osmotic pressure proportional to concentration-- disagreement as to cause of phenomenon. § . osmosis applied to solution: van t'hoff's discoveries--analogy between dissolved body and perfect gas--faults in analogy. § . electrolytic dissociation: van t'hoff's and arrhenius' researches--ionic hypothesis of--fierce opposition to at first--arrhenius' ideas now triumphant --advantages of arrhenius' hypothesis--"the ions which react"--ostwald's conclusions from this--nernst's theory of electrolysis--electrolysis of gases makes electronic theory probable--faraday's two laws--valency-- helmholtz's consequences from faraday's laws. chapter vi the ether § . the luminiferous ether: first idea of ether due to descartes--ether must be imponderable--fresnel shows light vibrations to be transverse--transverse vibrations cannot exist in fluid--ether must be discontinuous. § . radiations: wave-lengths and their measurements--rubens' and lenard's researches-- stationary waves and colour-photography--fresnel's hypothesis opposed by neumann--wiener's and cotton's experiments. § . the electromagnetic ether: ampère's advocacy of mathematical expression--faraday first shows influence of medium in electricity--maxwell's proof that light-waves electromagnetic--his unintelligibility--required confirmation of theory by hertz. § . electrical oscillations: hertz's experiments-- blondlot proves electromagnetic disturbance propagated with speed of light--discovery of ether waves intermediate between hertzian and visible ones--rubens' and nichols' experiments--hertzian and light rays contrasted--pressure of light. § . the x-rays: röntgen's discovery--properties of x-rays--not homogeneous--rutherford and m'clung's experiments on energy corresponding to--barkla's experiments on polarisation of--their speed that of light--are they merely ultra-violet?--stokes and wiechert's theory of independent pulsations generally preferred--j.j. thomson's idea of their formation-- sutherland's and le bon's theories--the n-rays-- blondlot's discovery--experiments cannot be repeated outside france--gutton and mascart's confirmation-- negative experiments prove nothing--supposed wave-length of n-rays. § . the ether and gravitation: descartes' and newton's ideas on gravitation--its speed and other extraordinary characteristics--lesage's hypothesis--crémieux' experiments with drops of liquids--hypothesis of ether insufficient. chapter vii wireless telegraphy § . histories of wireless telegraphy already written, and difficulties of the subject. § . two systems: that which uses the material media (earth, air, or water), and that which employs ether only. § . use of earth as return wire by steinheil --morse's experiments with water of canal--seine used as return wire during siege of paris--johnson and melhuish's indian experiments--preece's telegraph over bristol channel--he welcomes marconi. § . early attempts at transmission of messages through ether--experiments of rathenau and others. § . forerunners of ether telegraphy: clerk maxwell and hertz--dolbear, hughes, and graham bell. § . telegraphy by hertzian waves first suggested by threlfall--crookes', tesla's, lodge's, rutherford's, and popoff's contributions--marconi first makes it practicable. § . the receiver in wireless telegraphy--varley's, calzecchi--onesti's, and branly's researches-- explanation of coherer still obscure. § . wireless telegraphy enters the commercial stage-- defect of marconi's system--braun's, armstrong's, lee de forest's, and fessenden's systems make use of earth-- hertz and marconi entitled to foremost place among discoverers. chapter viii the conductivity of gases and the ions § . the conductivity of gases: relations of matter to ether cardinal problem--conductivity of gases at first misapprehended--erman's forgotten researches--giese first notices phenomenon--experiment with x-rays-- j.j. thomson's interpretation--ionized gas not obedient to ohm's law--discharge of charged conductors by ionized gas. § . the condensation of water-vapour by ions: vapour will not condense without nucleus--wilson's experiments on electrical condensation--wilson and thomson's counting experiment--twenty million ions per c.cm. of gas--estimate of charge borne by ion-- speed of charges--zeleny's and langevin's experiments--negative ions / of size of atoms--natural unit of electricity or electrons. § . how ions are produced: various causes of ionization--moreau's experiments with alkaline salts--barus and bloch on ionization by phosphorus vapours--ionization always result of shock. § . electrons in metals: movement of electrons in metals foreshadowed by weber--giese's, riecke's, drude's, and j.j. thomson's researches--path of ions in metals and conduction of heat--theory of lorentz--hesehus' explanation of electrification by contact--emission of electrons by charged body-- thomson's measurement of positive ions. chapter ix cathode rays and radioactive bodies § . the cathode rays: history of discovery--crookes' theory--lenard rays--perrin's proof of negative charge--cathode rays give rise to x-rays--the canal rays--villard's researches and magneto-cathode rays-- ionoplasty--thomson's measurements of speed of rays-- all atoms can be dissociated. § . radioactive substances: uranic rays of niepce de st victor and becquerel--general radioactivity of matter--le bon's and rutherford's comparison of uranic with x rays--pierre and mme. curie's discovery of polonium and radium--their characteristics--debierne discovers actinium. § . radiations and emanations of radioactive bodies: giesel's, becquerel's, and rutherford's researches--alpha, beta, and gamma rays--sagnac's secondary rays--crookes' spinthariscope--the emanation --ramsay and soddy's researches upon it--transformations of radioactive bodies--their order. § . disaggregation of matter and atomic energy: actual transformations of matter in radioactive bodies --helium or lead final product--ultimate disappearance of radium from earth--energy liberated by radium: its amount and source--suggested models of radioactive atoms--generalization from radioactive phenomena -le bon's theories--ballistic hypothesis generally admitted--does energy come from without--sagnac's experiments--elster and geitel's _contra_. chapter x the ether and matter § . the relations between the ether and matter: attempts to reduce all matter to forms of ether--emission and absorption phenomena show reciprocal action-- laws of radiation--radiation of gases--production of spectrum--differences between light and sound variations show difference of media--cauchy's, briot's, carvallo's and boussinesq's researches--helmholtz's and poincaré's electromagnetic theories of dispersion. § . the theory of lorentz:--mechanics fails to explain relations between ether and matter--lorentz predicts action of magnet on spectrum--zeeman's experiment --later researches upon zeeman effect-- multiplicity of electrons--lorentz's explanation of thermoelectric phenomena by electrons--maxwell's and lorentz's theories do not agree--lorentz's probably more correct--earth's movement in relation to ether. § . the mass of electrons: thomson's and max abraham's view that inertia of charged body due to charge--longitudinal and transversal mass--speed of electrons cannot exceed that of light--ratio of charge to mass and its variation--electron simple electric charge--phenomena produced by its acceleration. § . new views on ether and matter: insufficiency of larmor's view--ether definable by electric and magnetic fields--is matter all electrons? atom probably positive centre surrounded by negative electrons--ignorance concerning positive particles--successive transformations of matter probable --gravitation still unaccounted for. chapter xi the future of physics persistence of ambition to discover supreme principle in physics--supremacy of electron theory at present time--doubtless destined to disappear like others-- constant progress of science predicted--immense field open before it. index of names index of subjects chapter i the evolution of physics the now numerous public which tries with some success to keep abreast of the movement in science, from seeing its mental habits every day upset, and from occasionally witnessing unexpected discoveries that produce a more lively sensation from their reaction on social life, is led to suppose that we live in a really exceptional epoch, scored by profound crises and illustrated by extraordinary discoveries, whose singularity surpasses everything known in the past. thus we often hear it said that physics, in particular, has of late years undergone a veritable revolution; that all its principles have been made new, that all the edifices constructed by our fathers have been overthrown, and that on the field thus cleared has sprung up the most abundant harvest that has ever enriched the domain of science. it is in fact true that the crop becomes richer and more fruitful, thanks to the development of our laboratories, and that the quantity of seekers has considerably increased in all countries, while their quality has not diminished. we should be sustaining an absolute paradox, and at the same time committing a crying injustice, were we to contest the high importance of recent progress, and to seek to diminish the glory of contemporary physicists. yet it may be as well not to give way to exaggerations, however pardonable, and to guard against facile illusions. on closer examination it will be seen that our predecessors might at several periods in history have conceived, as legitimately as ourselves, similar sentiments of scientific pride, and have felt that the world was about to appear to them transformed and under an aspect until then absolutely unknown. let us take an example which is salient enough; for, however arbitrary the conventional division of time may appear to a physicist's eyes, it is natural, when instituting a comparison between two epochs, to choose those which extend over a space of half a score of years, and are separated from each other by the gap of a century. let us, then, go back a hundred years and examine what would have been the state of mind of an erudite amateur who had read and understood the chief publications on physical research between and . let us suppose that this intelligent and attentive spectator witnessed in the discovery of the galvanic battery by volta. he might from that moment have felt a presentiment that a prodigious transformation was about to occur in our mode of regarding electrical phenomena. brought up in the ideas of coulomb and franklin, he might till then have imagined that electricity had unveiled nearly all its mysteries, when an entirely original apparatus suddenly gave birth to applications of the highest interest, and excited the blossoming of theories of immense philosophical extent. in the treatises on physics published a little later, we find traces of the astonishment produced by this sudden revelation of a new world. "electricity," wrote the abbé haüy, "enriched by the labour of so many distinguished physicists, seemed to have reached the term when a science has no further important steps before it, and only leaves to those who cultivate it the hope of confirming the discoveries of their predecessors, and of casting a brighter light on the truths revealed. one would have thought that all researches for diversifying the results of experiment were exhausted, and that theory itself could only be augmented by the addition of a greater degree of precision to the applications of principles already known. while science thus appeared to be making for repose, the phenomena of the convulsive movements observed by galvani in the muscles of a frog when connected by metal were brought to the attention and astonishment of physicists.... volta, in that italy which had been the cradle of the new knowledge, discovered the principle of its true theory in a fact which reduces the explanation of all the phenomena in question to the simple contact of two substances of different nature. this fact became in his hands the germ of the admirable apparatus to which its manner of being and its fecundity assign one of the chief places among those with which the genius of mankind has enriched physics." shortly afterwards, our amateur would learn that carlisle and nicholson had decomposed water by the aid of a battery; then, that davy, in , had produced, by the help of the same battery, a quite unexpected phenomenon, and had succeeded in preparing metals endowed with marvellous properties, beginning with substances of an earthy appearance which had been known for a long time, but whose real nature had not been discovered. in another order of ideas, surprises as prodigious would wait for our amateur. commencing with , he might have read the admirable series of memoirs which young then published, and might thereby have learned how the study of the phenomena of diffraction led to the belief that the undulation theory, which, since the works of newton seemed irretrievably condemned, was, on the contrary, beginning quite a new life. a little later--in --he might have witnessed the discovery made by malus of polarization by reflexion, and would have been able to note, no doubt with stupefaction, that under certain conditions a ray of light loses the property of being reflected. he might also have heard of one rumford, who was then promulgating very singular ideas on the nature of heat, who thought that the then classical notions might be false, that caloric does not exist as a fluid, and who, in , even demonstrated that heat is created by friction. a few years later he would learn that charles had enunciated a capital law on the dilatation of gases; that pierre prevost, in , was making a study, full of original ideas, on radiant heat. in the meantime he would not have failed to read volumes iii. and iv. of the _mecanique celeste_ of laplace, published in and , and he might, no doubt, have thought that before long mathematics would enable physical science to develop with unforeseen safety. all these results may doubtless be compared in importance with the present discoveries. when strange metals like potassium and sodium were isolated by an entirely new method, the astonishment must have been on a par with that caused in our time by the magnificent discovery of radium. the polarization of light is a phenomenon as undoubtedly singular as the existence of the x rays; and the upheaval produced in natural philosophy by the theories of the disintegration of matter and the ideas concerning electrons is probably not more considerable than that produced in the theories of light and heat by the works of young and rumford. if we now disentangle ourselves from contingencies, it will be understood that in reality physical science progresses by evolution rather than by revolution. its march is continuous. the facts which our theories enable us to discover, subsist and are linked together long after these theories have disappeared. out of the materials of former edifices overthrown, new dwellings are constantly being reconstructed. the labour of our forerunners never wholly perishes. the ideas of yesterday prepare for those of to-morrow; they contain them, so to speak, _in potentia_. science is in some sort a living organism, which gives birth to an indefinite series of new beings taking the places of the old, and which evolves according to the nature of its environment, adapting itself to external conditions, and healing at every step the wounds which contact with reality may have occasioned. sometimes this evolution is rapid, sometimes it is slow enough; but it obeys the ordinary laws. the wants imposed by its surroundings create certain organs in science. the problems set to physicists by the engineer who wishes to facilitate transport or to produce better illumination, or by the doctor who seeks to know how such and such a remedy acts, or, again, by the physiologist desirous of understanding the mechanism of the gaseous and liquid exchanges between the cell and the outer medium, cause new chapters in physics to appear, and suggest researches adapted to the necessities of actual life. the evolution of the different parts of physics does not, however, take place with equal speed, because the circumstances in which they are placed are not equally favourable. sometimes a whole series of questions will appear forgotten, and will live only with a languishing existence; and then some accidental circumstance suddenly brings them new life, and they become the object of manifold labours, engross public attention, and invade nearly the whole domain of science. we have in our own day witnessed such a spectacle. the discovery of the x rays--a discovery which physicists no doubt consider as the logical outcome of researches long pursued by a few scholars working in silence and obscurity on an otherwise much neglected subject-- seemed to the public eye to have inaugurated a new era in the history of physics. if, as is the case, however, the extraordinary scientific movement provoked by röntgen's sensational experiments has a very remote origin, it has, at least, been singularly quickened by the favourable conditions created by the interest aroused in its astonishing applications to radiography. a lucky chance has thus hastened an evolution already taking place, and theories previously outlined have received a singular development. without wishing to yield too much to what may be considered a whim of fashion, we cannot, if we are to note in this book the stage actually reached in the continuous march of physics, refrain from giving a clearly preponderant place to the questions suggested by the study of the new radiations. at the present time it is these questions which move us the most; they have shown us unknown horizons, and towards the fields recently opened to scientific activity the daily increasing crowd of searchers rushes in rather disorderly fashion. one of the most interesting consequences of the recent discoveries has been to rehabilitate in the eyes of scholars, speculations relating to the constitution of matter, and, in a more general way, metaphysical problems. philosophy has, of course, never been completely separated from science; but in times past many physicists dissociated themselves from studies which they looked upon as unreal word-squabbles, and sometimes not unreasonably abstained from joining in discussions which seemed to them idle and of rather puerile subtlety. they had seen the ruin of most of the systems built up _a priori_ by daring philosophers, and deemed it more prudent to listen to the advice given by kirchhoff and "to substitute the description of facts for a sham explanation of nature." it should however be remarked that these physicists somewhat deceived themselves as to the value of their caution, and that the mistrust they manifested towards philosophical speculations did not preclude their admitting, unknown to themselves, certain axioms which they did not discuss, but which are, properly speaking, metaphysical conceptions. they were unconsciously speaking a language taught them by their predecessors, of which they made no attempt to discover the origin. it is thus that it was readily considered evident that physics must necessarily some day re-enter the domain of mechanics, and thence it was postulated that everything in nature is due to movement. we, further, accepted the principles of the classical mechanics without discussing their legitimacy. this state of mind was, even of late years, that of the most illustrious physicists. it is manifested, quite sincerely and without the slightest reserve, in all the classical works devoted to physics. thus verdet, an illustrious professor who has had the greatest and most happy influence on the intellectual formation of a whole generation of scholars, and whose works are even at the present day very often consulted, wrote: "the true problem of the physicist is always to reduce all phenomena to that which seems to us the simplest and clearest, that is to say, to movement." in his celebrated course of lectures at l'École polytechnique, jamin likewise said: "physics will one day form a chapter of general mechanics;" and in the preface to his excellent course of lectures on physics, m. violle, in , thus expresses himself: "the science of nature tends towards mechanics by a necessary evolution, the physicist being able to establish solid theories only on the laws of movement." the same idea is again met with in the words of cornu in : "the general tendency should be to show how the facts observed and the phenomena measured, though first brought together by empirical laws, end, by the impulse of successive progressions, in coming under the general laws of rational mechanics;" and the same physicist showed clearly that in his mind this connexion of phenomena with mechanics had a deep and philosophical reason, when, in the fine discourse pronounced by him at the opening ceremony of the congrès de physique in , he exclaimed: "the mind of descartes soars over modern physics, or rather, i should say, he is their luminary. the further we penetrate into the knowledge of natural phenomena, the clearer and the more developed becomes the bold cartesian conception regarding the mechanism of the universe. there is nothing in the physical world but matter and movement." if we adopt this conception, we are led to construct mechanical representations of the material world, and to imagine movements in the different parts of bodies capable of reproducing all the manifestations of nature. the kinematic knowledge of these movements, that is to say, the determination of the position, speed, and acceleration at a given moment of all the parts of the system, or, on the other hand, their dynamical study, enabling us to know what is the action of these parts on each other, would then be sufficient to enable us to foretell all that can occur in the domain of nature. this was the great thought clearly expressed by the encyclopædists of the eighteenth century; and if the necessity of interpreting the phenomena of electricity or light led the physicists of last century to imagine particular fluids which seemed to obey with some difficulty the ordinary rules of mechanics, these physicists still continued to retain their hope in the future, and to treat the idea of descartes as an ideal to be reached sooner or later. certain scholars--particularly those of the english school--outrunning experiment, and pushing things to extremes, took pleasure in proposing very curious mechanical models which were often strange images of reality. the most illustrious of them, lord kelvin, may be considered as their representative type, and he has himself said: "it seems to me that the true sense of the question, do we or do we not understand a particular subject in physics? is--can we make a mechanical model which corresponds to it? i am never satisfied so long as i have been unable to make a mechanical model of the object. if i am able to do so, i understand it. if i cannot make such a model, i do not understand it." but it must be acknowledged that some of the models thus devised have become excessively complicated, and this complication has for a long time discouraged all but very bold minds. in addition, when it became a question of penetrating into the mechanism of molecules, and we were no longer satisfied to look at matter as a mass, the mechanical solutions seemed undetermined and the stability of the edifices thus constructed was insufficiently demonstrated. returning then to our starting-point, many contemporary physicists wish to subject descartes' idea to strict criticism. from the philosophical point of view, they first enquire whether it is really demonstrated that there exists nothing else in the knowable than matter and movement. they ask themselves whether it is not habit and tradition in particular which lead us to ascribe to mechanics the origin of phenomena. perhaps also a question of sense here comes in. our senses, which are, after all, the only windows open towards external reality, give us a view of one side of the world only; evidently we only know the universe by the relations which exist between it and our organisms, and these organisms are peculiarly sensitive to movement. nothing, however, proves that those acquisitions which are the most ancient in historical order ought, in the development of science, to remain the basis of our knowledge. nor does any theory prove that our perceptions are an exact indication of reality. many reasons, on the contrary, might be invoked which tend to compel us to see in nature phenomena which cannot be reduced to movement. mechanics as ordinarily understood is the study of reversible phenomena. if there be given to the parameter which represents time,[ ] and which has assumed increasing values during the duration of the phenomena, decreasing values which make it go the opposite way, the whole system will again pass through exactly the same stages as before, and all the phenomena will unfold themselves in reversed order. in physics, the contrary rule appears very general, and reversibility generally does not exist. it is an ideal and limited case, which may be sometimes approached, but can never, strictly speaking, be met with in its entirety. no physical phenomenon ever recommences in an identical manner if its direction be altered. it is true that certain mathematicians warn us that a mechanics can be devised in which reversibility would no longer be the rule, but the bold attempts made in this direction are not wholly satisfactory. [footnote : i.e., the time-curve.--ed.] on the other hand, it is established that if a mechanical explanation of a phenomenon can be given, we can find an infinity of others which likewise account for all the peculiarities revealed by experiment. but, as a matter of fact, no one has ever succeeded in giving an indisputable mechanical representation of the whole physical world. even were we disposed to admit the strangest solutions of the problem; to consent, for example, to be satisfied with the hidden systems devised by helmholtz, whereby we ought to divide variable things into two classes, some accessible, and the others now and for ever unknown, we should never manage to construct an edifice to contain all the known facts. even the very comprehensive mechanics of a hertz fails where the classical mechanics has not succeeded. deeming this check irremediable, many contemporary physicists give up attempts which they look upon as condemned beforehand, and adopt, to guide them in their researches, a method which at first sight appears much more modest, and also much more sure. they make up their minds not to see at once to the bottom of things; they no longer seek to suddenly strip the last veils from nature, and to divine her supreme secrets; but they work prudently and advance but slowly, while on the ground thus conquered foot by foot they endeavour to establish themselves firmly. they study the various magnitudes directly accessible to their observation without busying themselves as to their essence. they measure quantities of heat and of temperature, differences of potential, currents, and magnetic fields; and then, varying the conditions, apply the rules of experimental method, and discover between these magnitudes mutual relations, while they thus succeed in enunciating laws which translate and sum up their labours. these empirical laws, however, themselves bring about by induction the promulgation of more general laws, which are termed principles. these principles are originally only the results of experiments, and experiment allows them besides to be checked, and their more or less high degree of generality to be verified. when they have been thus definitely established, they may serve as fresh starting-points, and, by deduction, lead to very varied discoveries. the principles which govern physical science are few in number, and their very general form gives them a philosophical appearance, while we cannot long resist the temptation of regarding them as metaphysical dogmas. it thus happens that the least bold physicists, those who have wanted to show themselves the most reserved, are themselves led to forget the experimental character of the laws they have propounded, and to see in them imperious beings whose authority, placed above all verification, can no longer be discussed. others, on the contrary, carry prudence to the extent of timidity. they desire to grievously limit the field of scientific investigation, and they assign to science a too restricted domain. they content themselves with representing phenomena by equations, and think that they ought to submit to calculation magnitudes experimentally determined, without asking themselves whether these calculations retain a physical meaning. they are thus led to reconstruct a physics in which there again appears the idea of quality, understood, of course, not in the scholastic sense, since from this quality we can argue with some precision by representing it under numerical symbols, but still constituting an element of differentiation and of heterogeneity. notwithstanding the errors they may lead to if carried to excess, both these doctrines render, as a whole, most important service. it is no bad thing that these contradictory tendencies should subsist, for this variety in the conception of phenomena gives to actual science a character of intense life and of veritable youth, capable of impassioned efforts towards the truth. spectators who see such moving and varied pictures passing before them, experience the feeling that there no longer exist systems fixed in an immobility which seems that of death. they feel that nothing is unchangeable; that ceaseless transformations are taking place before their eyes; and that this continuous evolution and perpetual change are the necessary conditions of progress. a great number of seekers, moreover, show themselves on their own account perfectly eclectic. they adopt, according to their needs, such or such a manner of looking at nature, and do not hesitate to utilize very different images when they appear to them useful and convenient. and, without doubt, they are not wrong, since these images are only symbols convenient for language. they allow facts to be grouped and associated, but only present a fairly distant resemblance with the objective reality. hence it is not forbidden to multiply and to modify them according to circumstances. the really essential thing is to have, as a guide through the unknown, a map which certainly does not claim to represent all the aspects of nature, but which, having been drawn up according to predetermined rules, allows us to follow an ascertained road in the eternal journey towards the truth. among the provisional theories which are thus willingly constructed by scholars on their journey, like edifices hastily run up to receive an unforeseen harvest, some still appear very bold and very singular. abandoning the search after mechanical models for all electrical phenomena, certain physicists reverse, so to speak, the conditions of the problem, and ask themselves whether, instead of giving a mechanical interpretation to electricity, they may not, on the contrary, give an electrical interpretation to the phenomena of matter and motion, and thus merge mechanics itself in electricity. one thus sees dawning afresh the eternal hope of co-ordinating all natural phenomena in one grandiose and imposing synthesis. whatever may be the fate reserved for such attempts, they deserve attention in the highest degree; and it is desirable to examine them carefully if we wish to have an exact idea of the tendencies of modern physics. chapter ii measurements § . metrology not so very long ago, the scholar was often content with qualitative observations. many phenomena were studied without much trouble being taken to obtain actual measurements. but it is now becoming more and more understood that to establish the relations which exist between physical magnitudes, and to represent the variations of these magnitudes by functions which allow us to use the power of mathematical analysis, it is most necessary to express each magnitude by a definite number. under these conditions alone can a magnitude be considered as effectively known. "i often say," lord kelvin has said, "that if you can measure that of which you are speaking and express it by a number you know something of your subject; but if you cannot measure it nor express it by a number, your knowledge is of a sorry kind and hardly satisfactory. it may be the beginning of the acquaintance, but you are hardly, in your thoughts, advanced towards science, whatever the subject may be." it has now become possible to measure exactly the elements which enter into nearly all physical phenomena, and these measurements are taken with ever increasing precision. every time a chapter in science progresses, science shows itself more exacting; it perfects its means of investigation, it demands more and more exactitude, and one of the most striking features of modern physics is this constant care for strictness and clearness in experimentation. a veritable science of measurement has thus been constituted which extends over all parts of the domain of physics. this science has its rules and its methods; it points out the best processes of calculation, and teaches the method of correctly estimating errors and taking account of them. it has perfected the processes of experiment, co-ordinated a large number of results, and made possible the unification of standards. it is thanks to it that the system of measurements unanimously adopted by physicists has been formed. at the present day we designate more peculiarly by the name of metrology that part of the science of measurements which devotes itself specially to the determining of the prototypes representing the fundamental units of dimension and mass, and of the standards of the first order which are derived from them. if all measurable quantities, as was long thought possible, could be reduced to the magnitudes of mechanics, metrology would thus be occupied with the essential elements entering into all phenomena, and might legitimately claim the highest rank in science. but even when we suppose that some magnitudes can never be connected with mass, length, and time, it still holds a preponderating place, and its progress finds an echo throughout the whole domain of the natural sciences. it is therefore well, in order to give an account of the general progress of physics, to examine at the outset the improvements which have been effected in these fundamental measurements, and to see what precision these improvements have allowed us to attain. § . the measure of length to measure a length is to compare it with another length taken as unity. measurement is therefore a relative operation, and can only enable us to know ratios. did both the length to be measured and the unit chosen happen to vary simultaneously and in the same degree, we should perceive no change. moreover, the unit being, by definition, the term of comparison, and not being itself comparable with anything, we have theoretically no means of ascertaining whether its length varies. if, however, we were to note that, suddenly and in the same proportions, the distance between two points on this earth had increased, that all the planets had moved further from each other, that all objects around us had become larger, that we ourselves had become taller, and that the distance travelled by light in the duration of a vibration had become greater, we should not hesitate to think ourselves the victims of an illusion, that in reality all these distances had remained fixed, and that all these appearances were due to a shortening of the rule which we had used as the standard for measuring the lengths. from the mathematical point of view, it may be considered that the two hypotheses are equivalent; all has lengthened around us, or else our standard has become less. but it is no simple question of convenience and simplicity which leads us to reject the one supposition and to accept the other; it is right in this case to listen to the voice of common sense, and those physicists who have an instinctive trust in the notion of an absolute length are perhaps not wrong. it is only by choosing our unit from those which at all times have seemed to all men the most invariable, that we are able in our experiments to note that the same causes acting under identical conditions always produce the same effects. the idea of absolute length is derived from the principle of causality; and our choice is forced upon us by the necessity of obeying this principle, which we cannot reject without declaring by that very act all science to be impossible. similar remarks might be made with regard to the notions of absolute time and absolute movement. they have been put in evidence and set forth very forcibly by a learned and profound mathematician, m. painlevé. on the particularly clear example of the measure of length, it is interesting to follow the evolution of the methods employed, and to run through the history of the progress in precision from the time that we have possessed authentic documents relating to this question. this history has been written in a masterly way by one of the physicists who have in our days done the most by their personal labours to add to it glorious pages. m. benoit, the learned director of the international bureau of weights and measures, has furnished in various reports very complete details on the subject, from which i here borrow the most interesting. we know that in france the fundamental standard for measures of length was for a long time the _toise du châtelet_, a kind of callipers formed of a bar of iron which in was embedded in the outside wall of the châtelet, at the foot of the staircase. this bar had at its extremities two projections with square faces, and all the _toises_ of commerce had to fit exactly between them. such a standard, roughly constructed, and exposed to all the injuries of weather and time, offered very slight guarantees either as to the permanence or the correctness of its copies. nothing, perhaps, can better convey an idea of the importance of the modifications made in the methods of experimental physics than the easy comparison between so rudimentary a process and the actual measurements effected at the present time. the _toise du châtelet_, notwithstanding its evident faults, was employed for nearly a hundred years; in it was replaced by the _toise du pérou_, so called because it had served for the measurements of the terrestrial arc effected in peru from to by bouguer, la condamine, and godin. at that time, according to the comparisons made between this new _toise_ and the _toise du nord_, which had also been used for the measurement of an arc of the meridian, an error of the tenth part of a millimetre in measuring lengths of the order of a metre was considered quite unimportant. at the end of the eighteenth century, delambre, in his work _sur la base du système métrique décimal_, clearly gives us to understand that magnitudes of the order of the hundredth of a millimetre appear to him incapable of observation, even in scientific researches of the highest precision. at the present date the international bureau of weights and measures guarantees, in the determination of a standard of length compared with the metre, an approximation of two or three ten-thousandths of a millimetre, and even a little more under certain circumstances. this very remarkable progress is due to the improvements in the method of comparison on the one hand, and in the manufacture of the standard on the other. m. benoit rightly points out that a kind of competition has been set up between the standard destined to represent the unit with its subdivisions and multiples and the instrument charged with observing it, comparable, up to a certain point, with that which in another order of ideas goes on between the gun and the armour-plate. the measuring instrument of to-day is an instrument of comparison constructed with meticulous care, which enables us to do away with causes of error formerly ignored, to eliminate the action of external phenomena, and to withdraw the experiment from the influence of even the personality of the observer. this standard is no longer, as formerly, a flat rule, weak and fragile, but a rigid bar, incapable of deformation, in which the material is utilised in the best conditions of resistance. for a standard with ends has been substituted a standard with marks, which permits much more precise definition and can be employed in optical processes of observation alone; that is, in processes which can produce in it no deformation and no alteration. moreover, the marks are traced on the plane of the neutral fibres[ ] exposed, and the invariability of their distance apart is thus assured, even when a change is made in the way the rule is supported. [footnote : the author seems to refer to the fact that in the standard metre, the measurement is taken from the central one of three marks at each end of the bar. the transverse section of the bar is an x, and the reading is made by a microscope.--ed.] thanks to studies thus systematically pursued, we have succeeded in the course of a hundred years in increasing the precision of measures in the proportion of a thousand to one, and we may ask ourselves whether such an increase will continue in the future. no doubt progress will not be stayed; but if we keep to the definition of length by a material standard, it would seem that its precision cannot be considerably increased. we have nearly reached the limit imposed by the necessity of making strokes of such a thickness as to be observable under the microscope. it may happen, however, that we shall be brought one of these days to a new conception of the measure of length, and that very different processes of determination will be thought of. if we took as unit, for instance, the distance covered by a given radiation during a vibration, the optical processes would at once admit of much greater precision. thus fizeau, the first to have this idea, says: "a ray of light, with its series of undulations of extreme tenuity but perfect regularity, may be considered as a micrometer of the greatest perfection, and particularly suitable for determining length." but in the present state of things, since the legal and customary definition of the unit remains a material standard, it is not enough to measure length in terms of wave-lengths, and we must also know the value of these wave-lengths in terms of the standard prototype of the metre. this was determined in by m. michelson and m. benoit in an experiment which will remain classic. the two physicists measured a standard length of about ten centimetres, first in terms of the wave-lengths of the red, green, and blue radiations of cadmium, and then in terms of the standard metre. the great difficulty of the experiment proceeds from the vast difference which exists between the lengths to be compared, the wave-lengths barely amounting to half a micron;[ ] the process employed consisted in noting, instead of this length, a length easily made about a thousand times greater, namely, the distance between the fringes of interference. [footnote : i.e. / of a millimetre.--ed.] in all measurement, that is to say in every determination of the relation of a magnitude to the unit, there has to be determined on the one hand the whole, and on the other the fractional part of this ratio, and naturally the most delicate determination is generally that of this fractional part. in optical processes the difficulty is reversed. the fractional part is easily known, while it is the high figure of the number representing the whole which becomes a very serious obstacle. it is this obstacle which mm. michelson and benoit overcame with admirable ingenuity. by making use of a somewhat similar idea, m. macé de lépinay and mm. perot and fabry, have lately effected by optical methods, measurements of the greatest precision, and no doubt further progress may still be made. a day may perhaps come when a material standard will be given up, and it may perhaps even be recognised that such a standard in time changes its length by molecular strain, and by wear and tear: and it will be further noted that, in accordance with certain theories which will be noticed later on, it is not invariable when its orientation is changed. for the moment, however, the need of any change in the definition of the unit is in no way felt; we must, on the contrary, hope that the use of the unit adopted by the physicists of the whole world will spread more and more. it is right to remark that a few errors still occur with regard to this unit, and that these errors have been facilitated by incoherent legislation. france herself, though she was the admirable initiator of the metrical system, has for too long allowed a very regrettable confusion to exist; and it cannot be noted without a certain sadness that it was not until the _ th july _ that a law was promulgated re-establishing the agreement between the legal and the scientific definition of the metre. perhaps it may not be useless to briefly indicate here the reasons of the disagreement which had taken place. two definitions of the metre can be, and in fact were given. one had for its basis the dimensions of the earth, the other the length of the material standard. in the minds of the founders of the metrical system, the first of these was the true definition of the unit of length, the second merely a simple representation. it was admitted, however, that this representation had been constructed in a manner perfect enough for it to be nearly impossible to perceive any difference between the unit and its representation, and for the practical identity of the two definitions to be thus assured. the creators of the metrical system were persuaded that the measurements of the meridian effected in their day could never be surpassed in precision; and on the other hand, by borrowing from nature a definite basis, they thought to take from the definition of the unit some of its arbitrary character, and to ensure the means of again finding the same unit if by any accident the standard became altered. their confidence in the value of the processes they had seen employed was exaggerated, and their mistrust of the future unjustified. this example shows how imprudent it is to endeavour to fix limits to progress. it is an error to think the march of science can be stayed; and in reality it is now known that the ten-millionth part of the quarter of the terrestrial meridian is longer than the metre by . millimetres. but contemporary physicists do not fall into the same error as their forerunners, and they regard the present result as merely provisional. they guess, in fact, that new improvements will be effected in the art of measurement; they know that geodesical processes, though much improved in our days, have still much to do to attain the precision displayed in the construction and determination of standards of the first order; and consequently they do not propose to keep the ancient definition, which would lead to having for unit a magnitude possessing the grave defect from a practical point of view of being constantly variable. we may even consider that, looked at theoretically, its permanence would not be assured. nothing, in fact, proves that sensible variations may not in time be produced in the value of an arc of the meridian, and serious difficulties may arise regarding the probable inequality of the various meridians. for all these reasons, the idea of finding a natural unit has been gradually abandoned, and we have become resigned to accepting as a fundamental unit an arbitrary and conventional length having a material representation recognised by universal consent; and it was this unit which was consecrated by the following law of the th july :-- "the standard prototype of the metrical system is the international metre, which has been sanctioned by the general conference on weights and measures." § . the measure of mass on the subject of measures of mass, similar remarks to those on measures of length might be made. the confusion here was perhaps still greater, because, to the uncertainty relating to the fixing of the unit, was added some indecision on the very nature of the magnitude defined. in law, as in ordinary practice, the notions of weight and of mass were not, in fact, separated with sufficient clearness. they represent, however, two essentially different things. mass is the characteristic of a quantity of matter; it depends neither on the geographical position one occupies nor on the altitude to which one may rise; it remains invariable so long as nothing material is added or taken away. weight is the action which gravity has upon the body under consideration; this action does not depend solely on the body, but on the earth as well; and when it is changed from one spot to another, the weight changes, because gravity varies with latitude and altitude. these elementary notions, to-day understood even by young beginners, appear to have been for a long time indistinctly grasped. the distinction remained confused in many minds, because, for the most part, masses were comparatively estimated by the intermediary of weights. the estimations of weight made with the balance utilize the action of the weight on the beam, but in such conditions that the influence of the variations of gravity becomes eliminated. the two weights which are being compared may both of them change if the weighing is effected in different places, but they are attracted in the same proportion. if once equal, they remain equal even when in reality they may both have varied. the current law defines the kilogramme as the standard of mass, and the law is certainly in conformity with the rather obscurely expressed intentions of the founders of the metrical system. their terminology was vague, but they certainly had in view the supply of a standard for commercial transactions, and it is quite evident that in barter what is important to the buyer as well as to the seller is not the attraction the earth may exercise on the goods, but the quantity that may be supplied for a given price. besides, the fact that the founders abstained from indicating any specified spot in the definition of the kilogramme, when they were perfectly acquainted with the considerable variations in the intensity of gravity, leaves no doubt as to their real desire. the same objections have been made to the definition of the kilogramme, at first considered as the mass of a cubic decimetre of water at ° c., as to the first definition of the metre. we must admire the incredible precision attained at the outset by the physicists who made the initial determinations, but we know at the present day that the kilogramme they constructed is slightly too heavy (by about / , ). very remarkable researches have been carried out with regard to this determination by the international bureau, and by mm. macé de lépinay and buisson. the law of the th july has definitely regularized the custom which physicists had adopted some years before; and the standard of mass, the legal prototype of the metrical system, is now the international kilogramme sanctioned by the conference of weights and measures. the comparison of a mass with the standard is effected with a precision to which no other measurement can attain. metrology vouches for the hundredth of a milligramme in a kilogramme; that is to say, that it estimates the hundred-millionth part of the magnitude studied. we may--as in the case of the lengths--ask ourselves whether this already admirable precision can be surpassed; and progress would seem likely to be slow, for difficulties singularly increase when we get to such small quantities. but it is permitted to hope that the physicists of the future will do still better than those of to-day; and perhaps we may catch a glimpse of the time when we shall begin to observe that the standard, which is constructed from a heavy metal, namely, iridium-platinum, itself obeys an apparently general law, and little by little loses some particles of its mass by emanation. § . the measure of time the third fundamental magnitude of mechanics is time. there is, so to speak, no physical phenomenon in which the notion of time linked to the sequence of our states of consciousness does not play a considerable part. ancestral habits and a very early tradition have led us to preserve, as the unit of time, a unit connected with the earth's movement; and the unit to-day adopted is, as we know, the sexagesimal second of mean time. this magnitude, thus defined by the conditions of a natural motion which may itself be modified, does not seem to offer all the guarantees desirable from the point of view of invariability. it is certain that all the friction exercised on the earth--by the tides, for instance--must slowly lengthen the duration of the day, and must influence the movement of the earth round the sun. such influence is certainly very slight, but it nevertheless gives an unfortunately arbitrary character to the unit adopted. we might have taken as the standard of time the duration of another natural phenomenon, which appears to be always reproduced under identical conditions; the duration, for instance, of a given luminous vibration. but the experimental difficulties of evaluation with such a unit of the times which ordinarily have to be considered, would be so great that such a reform in practice cannot be hoped for. it should, moreover, be remarked that the duration of a vibration may itself be influenced by external circumstances, among which are the variations of the magnetic field in which its source is placed. it could not, therefore, be strictly considered as independent of the earth; and the theoretical advantage which might be expected from this alteration would be somewhat illusory. perhaps in the future recourse may be had to very different phenomena. thus curie pointed out that if the air inside a glass tube has been rendered radioactive by a solution of radium, the tube may be sealed up, and it will then be noted that the radiation of its walls diminishes with time, in accordance with an exponential law. the constant of time derived by this phenomenon remains the same whatever the nature and dimensions of the walls of the tube or the temperature may be, and time might thus be denned independently of all the other units. we might also, as m. lippmann has suggested in an extremely ingenious way, decide to obtain measures of time which can be considered as absolute because they are determined by parameters of another nature than that of the magnitude to be measured. such experiments are made possible by the phenomena of gravitation. we could employ, for instance, the pendulum by adopting, as the unit of force, the force which renders the constant of gravitation equal to unity. the unit of time thus defined would be independent of the unit of length, and would depend only on the substance which would give us the unit of mass under the unit of volume. it would be equally possible to utilize electrical phenomena, and one might devise experiments perfectly easy of execution. thus, by charging a condenser by means of a battery, and discharging it a given number of times in a given interval of time, so that the effect of the current of discharge should be the same as the effect of the output of the battery through a given resistance, we could estimate, by the measurement of the electrical magnitudes, the duration of the interval noted. a system of this kind must not be looked upon as a simple _jeu d'esprit_, since this very practicable experiment would easily permit us to check, with a precision which could be carried very far, the constancy of an interval of time. from the practical point of view, chronometry has made in these last few years very sensible progress. the errors in the movements of chronometers are corrected in a much more systematic way than formerly, and certain inventions have enabled important improvements to be effected in the construction of these instruments. thus the curious properties which steel combined with nickel--so admirably studied by m.ch.ed. guillaume--exhibits in the matter of dilatation are now utilized so as to almost completely annihilate the influence of variations of temperature. § . the measure of temperature from the three mechanical units we derive secondary units; as, for instance, the unit of work or mechanical energy. the kinetic theory takes temperature, as well as heat itself, to be a quantity of energy, and thus seems to connect this notion with the magnitudes of mechanics. but the legitimacy of this theory cannot be admitted, and the calorific movement should also be a phenomenon so strictly confined in space that our most delicate means of investigation would not enable us to perceive it. it is better, then, to continue to regard the unit of difference of temperature as a distinct unit, to be added to the fundamental units. to define the measure of a certain temperature, we take, in practice, some arbitrary property of a body. the only necessary condition of this property is, that it should constantly vary in the same direction when the temperature rises, and that it should possess, at any temperature, a well-marked value. we measure this value by melting ice and by the vapour of boiling water under normal pressure, and the successive hundredths of its variation, beginning with the melting ice, defines the percentage. thermodynamics, however, has made it plain that we can set up a thermometric scale without relying upon any determined property of a real body. such a scale has an absolute value independently of the properties of matter. now it happens that if we make use for the estimation of temperatures, of the phenomena of dilatation under a constant pressure, or of the increase of pressure in a constant volume of a gaseous body, we obtain a scale very near the absolute, which almost coincides with it when the gas possesses certain qualities which make it nearly what is called a perfect gas. this most lucky coincidence has decided the choice of the convention adopted by physicists. they define normal temperature by means of the variations of pressure in a mass of hydrogen beginning with the initial pressure of a metre of mercury at ° c. m.p. chappuis, in some very precise experiments conducted with much method, has proved that at ordinary temperatures the indications of such a thermometer are so close to the degrees of the theoretical scale that it is almost impossible to ascertain the value of the divergences, or even the direction that they take. the divergence becomes, however, manifest when we work with extreme temperatures. it results from the useful researches of m. daniel berthelot that we must subtract + . ° from the indications of the hydrogen thermometer towards the temperature - ° c, and add + . ° to ° to equate them with the thermodynamic scale. of course, the difference would also become still more noticeable on getting nearer to the absolute zero; for as hydrogen gets more and more cooled, it gradually exhibits in a lesser degree the characteristics of a perfect gas. to study the lower regions which border on that kind of pole of cold towards which are straining the efforts of the many physicists who have of late years succeeded in getting a few degrees further forward, we may turn to a gas still more difficult to liquefy than hydrogen. thus, thermometers have been made of helium; and from the temperature of - ° c. downward the divergence of such a thermometer from one of hydrogen is very marked. the measurement of very high temperatures is not open to the same theoretical objections as that of very low temperatures; but, from a practical point of view, it is as difficult to effect with an ordinary gas thermometer. it becomes impossible to guarantee the reservoir remaining sufficiently impermeable, and all security disappears, notwithstanding the use of recipients very superior to those of former times, such as those lately devised by the physicists of the _reichansalt_. this difficulty is obviated by using other methods, such as the employment of thermo-electric couples, such as the very convenient couple of m. le chatelier; but the graduation of these instruments can only be effected at the cost of a rather bold extrapolation. m.d. berthelot has pointed out and experimented with a very interesting process, founded on the measurement by the phenomena of interference of the refractive index of a column of air subjected to the temperature it is desired to measure. it appears admissible that even at the highest temperatures the variation of the power of refraction is strictly proportional to that of the density, for this proportion is exactly verified so long as it is possible to check it precisely. we can thus, by a method which offers the great advantage of being independent of the power and dimension of the envelopes employed--since the length of the column of air considered alone enters into the calculation--obtain results equivalent to those given by the ordinary air thermometer. another method, very old in principle, has also lately acquired great importance. for a long time we sought to estimate the temperature of a body by studying its radiation, but we did not know any positive relation between this radiation and the temperature, and we had no good experimental method of estimation, but had recourse to purely empirical formulas and the use of apparatus of little precision. now, however, many physicists, continuing the classic researches of kirchhoff, boltzmann, professors wien and planck, and taking their starting-point from the laws of thermodynamics, have given formulas which establish the radiating power of a dark body as a function of the temperature and the wave-length, or, better still, of the total power as a function of the temperature and wave-length corresponding to the maximum value of the power of radiation. we see, therefore, the possibility of appealing for the measurement of temperature to a phenomenon which is no longer the variation of the elastic force of a gas, and yet is also connected with the principles of thermodynamics. this is what professors lummer and pringsheim have shown in a series of studies which may certainly be reckoned among the greatest experimental researches of the last few years. they have constructed a radiator closely resembling the theoretically integral radiator which a closed isothermal vessel would be, and with only a very small opening, which allows us to collect from outside the radiations which are in equilibrium with the interior. this vessel is formed of a hollow carbon cylinder, heated by a current of high intensity; the radiations are studied by means of a bolometer, the disposition of which varies with the nature of the experiments. it is hardly possible to enter into the details of the method, but the result sufficiently indicates its importance. it is now possible, thanks to their researches, to estimate a temperature of ° c. to within about °. ten years ago a similar approximation could hardly have been arrived at for a temperature of ° c. § . derived units and the measure of a quantity of energy it must be understood that it is only by arbitrary convention that a dependency is established between a derived unit and the fundamental units. the laws of numbers in physics are often only laws of proportion. we transform them into laws of equation, because we introduce numerical coefficients and choose the units on which they depend so as to simplify as much as possible the formulas most in use. a particular speed, for instance, is in reality nothing else but a speed, and it is only by the peculiar choice of unit that we can say that it is the space covered during the unit of time. in the same way, a quantity of electricity is a quantity of electricity; and there is nothing to prove that, in its essence, it is really reducible to a function of mass, of length, and of time. persons are still to be met with who seem to have some illusions on this point, and who see in the doctrine of the dimensions of the units a doctrine of general physics, while it is, to say truth, only a doctrine of metrology. the knowledge of dimensions is valuable, since it allows us, for instance, to easily verify the homogeneity of a formula, but it can in no way give us any information on the actual nature of the quantity measured. magnitudes to which we attribute like dimensions may be qualitatively irreducible one to the other. thus the different forms of energy are measured by the same unit, and yet it seems that some of them, such as kinetic energy, really depend on time; while for others, such as potential energy, the dependency established by the system of measurement seems somewhat fictitious. the numerical value of a quantity of energy of any nature should, in the system c.g.s., be expressed in terms of the unit called the erg; but, as a matter of fact, when we wish to compare and measure different quantities of energy of varying forms, such as electrical, chemical, and other quantities, etc., we nearly always employ a method by which all these energies are finally transformed and used to heat the water of a calorimeter. it is therefore very important to study well the calorific phenomenon chosen as the unit of heat, and to determine with precision its mechanical equivalent, that is to say, the number of ergs necessary to produce this unit. this is a number which, on the principle of equivalence, depends neither on the method employed, nor the time, nor any other external circumstance. as the result of the brilliant researches of rowland and of mr griffiths on the variations of the specific heat of water, physicists have decided to take as calorific standard the quantity of heat necessary to raise a gramme of water from ° to ° c., the temperature being measured by the scale of the hydrogen thermometer of the international bureau. on the other hand, new determinations of the mechanical equivalent, among which it is right to mention that of mr. ames, and a full discussion as to the best results, have led to the adoption of the number . to represent the number of ergs capable of producing the unit of heat. in practice, the measurement of a quantity of heat is very often effected by means of the ice calorimeter, the use of which is particularly simple and convenient. there is, therefore, a very special interest in knowing exactly the melting-point of ice. m. leduc, who for several years has measured a great number of physical constants with minute precautions and a remarkable sense of precision, concludes, after a close discussion of the various results obtained, that this heat is equal to . calories. an error of almost a calorie had been committed by several renowned experimenters, and it will be seen that in certain points the art of measurement may still be largely perfected. to the unit of energy might be immediately attached other units. for instance, radiation being nothing but a flux of energy, we could, in order to establish photometric units, divide the normal spectrum into bands of a given width, and measure the power of each for the unit of radiating surface. but, notwithstanding some recent researches on this question, we cannot yet consider the distribution of energy in the spectrum as perfectly known. if we adopt the excellent habit which exists in some researches of expressing radiating energy in ergs, it is still customary to bring the radiations to a standard giving, by its constitution alone, the unit of one particular radiation. in particular, the definitions are still adhered to which were adopted as the result of the researches of m. violle on the radiation of fused platinum at the temperature of solidification; and most physicists utilize in the ordinary methods of photometry the clearly defined notions of m. blondel as to the luminous intensity of flux, illumination (_éclairement_), light (_éclat_), and lighting (_éclairage_), with the corresponding units, decimal candle, _lumen_, _lux_, carcel lamp, candle per square centimetre, and _lumen_-hour.[ ] [footnote : these are the magnitudes and units adopted at the international congress of electricians in . for their definition and explanation, see demanet, _notes de physique expérimentale_ (louvain, ), t. iv. p. .--ed.] § . measure of certain physical constants the progress of metrology has led, as a consequence, to corresponding progress in nearly all physical measurements, and particularly in the measure of natural constants. among these, the constant of gravitation occupies a position quite apart from the importance and simplicity of the physical law which defines it, as well as by its generality. two material particles are mutually attracted to each other by a force directly proportional to the product of their mass, and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them. the coefficient of proportion is determined when once the units are chosen, and as soon as we know the numerical values of this force, of the two masses, and of their distance. but when we wish to make laboratory experiments serious difficulties appear, owing to the weakness of the attraction between masses of ordinary dimensions. microscopic forces, so to speak, have to be observed, and therefore all the causes of errors have to be avoided which would be unimportant in most other physical researches. it is known that cavendish was the first who succeeded by means of the torsion balance in effecting fairly precise measurements. this method has been again taken in hand by different experimenters, and the most recent results are due to mr vernon boys. this learned physicist is also the author of a most useful practical invention, and has succeeded in making quartz threads as fine as can be desired and extremely uniform. he finds that these threads possess valuable properties, such as perfect elasticity and great tenacity. he has been able, with threads not more than / of a millimetre in diameter, to measure with precision couples of an order formerly considered outside the range of experiment, and to reduce the dimensions of the apparatus of cavendish in the proportion of to . the great advantage found in the use of these small instruments is the better avoidance of the perturbations arising from draughts of air, and of the very serious influence of the slightest inequality in temperature. other methods have been employed in late years by other experimenters, such as the method of baron eötvös, founded on the use of a torsion lever, the method of the ordinary balance, used especially by professors richarz and krigar-menzel and also by professor poynting, and the method of m. wilsing, who uses a balance with a vertical beam. the results fairly agree, and lead to attributing to the earth a density equal to . . the most familiar manifestation of gravitation is gravity. the action of the earth on the unit of mass placed in one point, and the intensity of gravity, is measured, as we know, by the aid of a pendulum. the methods of measurement, whether by absolute or by relative determinations, so greatly improved by borda and bessel, have been still further improved by various geodesians, among whom should be mentioned m. von sterneek and general defforges. numerous observations have been made in all parts of the world by various explorers, and have led to a fairly complete knowledge of the distribution of gravity over the surface of the globe. thus we have succeeded in making evident anomalies which would not easily find their place in the formula of clairaut. another constant, the determination of which is of the greatest utility in astronomy of position, and the value of which enters into electromagnetic theory, has to-day assumed, with the new ideas on the constitution of matter, a still more considerable importance. i refer to the speed of light, which appears to us, as we shall see further on, the maximum value of speed which can be given to a material body. after the historical experiments of fizeau and foucault, taken up afresh, as we know, partly by cornu, and partly by michelson and newcomb, it remained still possible to increase the precision of the measurements. professor michelson has undertaken some new researches by a method which is a combination of the principle of the toothed wheel of fizeau with the revolving mirror of foucault. the toothed wheel is here replaced, however, by a grating, in which the lines and the spaces between them take the place of the teeth and the gaps, the reflected light only being returned when it strikes on the space between two lines. the illustrious american physicist estimates that he can thus evaluate to nearly five kilometres the path traversed by light in one second. this approximation corresponds to a relative value of a few hundred-thousandths, and it far exceeds those hitherto attained by the best experimenters. when all the experiments are completed, they will perhaps solve certain questions still in suspense; for instance, the question whether the speed of propagation depends on intensity. if this turns out to be the case, we should be brought to the important conclusion that the amplitude of the oscillations, which is certainly very small in relation to the already tiny wave-lengths, cannot be considered as unimportant in regard to these lengths. such would seem to have been the result of the curious experiments of m. muller and of m. ebert, but these results have been recently disputed by m. doubt. in the case of sound vibrations, on the other hand, it should be noted that experiment, consistently with the theory, proves that the speed increases with the amplitude, or, if you will, with the intensity. m. violle has published an important series of experiments on the speed of propagation of very condensed waves, on the deformations of these waves, and on the relations of the speed and the pressure, which verify in a remarkable manner the results foreshadowed by the already old calculations of riemann, repeated later by hugoniot. if, on the contrary, the amplitude is sufficiently small, there exists a speed limit which is the same in a large pipe and in free air. by some beautiful experiments, mm. violle and vautier have clearly shown that any disturbance in the air melts somewhat quickly into a single wave of given form, which is propagated to a distance, while gradually becoming weaker and showing a constant speed which differs little in dry air at ° c. from . metres per second. in a narrow pipe the influence of the walls makes itself felt and produces various effects, in particular a kind of dispersion in space of the harmonics of the sound. this phenomenon, according to m. brillouin, is perfectly explicable by a theory similar to the theory of gratings. chapter iii principles § . the principles of physics facts conscientiously observed lead by induction to the enunciation of a certain number of laws or general hypotheses which are the principles already referred to. these principal hypotheses are, in the eyes of a physicist, legitimate generalizations, the consequences of which we shall be able at once to check by the experiments from which they issue. among the principles almost universally adopted until lately figure prominently those of mechanics--such as the principle of relativity, and the principle of the equality of action and reaction. we will not detail nor discuss them here, but later on we shall have an opportunity of pointing out how recent theories on the phenomena of electricity have shaken the confidence of physicists in them and have led certain scholars to doubt their absolute value. the principle of lavoisier, or principle of the conservation of mass, presents itself under two different aspects according to whether mass is looked upon as the coefficient of the inertia of matter or as the factor which intervenes in the phenomena of universal attraction, and particularly in gravitation. we shall see when we treat of these theories, how we have been led to suppose that inertia depended on velocity and even on direction. if this conception were exact, the principle of the invariability of mass would naturally be destroyed. considered as a factor of attraction, is mass really indestructible? a few years ago such a question would have seemed singularly audacious. and yet the law of lavoisier is so far from self-evident that for centuries it escaped the notice of physicists and chemists. but its great apparent simplicity and its high character of generality, when enunciated at the end of the eighteenth century, rapidly gave it such an authority that no one was able to any longer dispute it unless he desired the reputation of an oddity inclined to paradoxical ideas. it is important, however, to remark that, under fallacious metaphysical appearances, we are in reality using empty words when we repeat the aphorism, "nothing can be lost, nothing can be created," and deduce from it the indestructibility of matter. this indestructibility, in truth, is an experimental fact, and the principle depends on experiment. it may even seem, at first sight, more singular than not that the weight of a bodily system in a given place, or the quotient of this weight by that of the standard mass--that is to say, the mass of these bodies--remains invariable, both when the temperature changes and when chemical reagents cause the original materials to disappear and to be replaced by new ones. we may certainly consider that in a chemical phenomenon annihilations and creations of matter are really produced; but the experimental law teaches us that there is compensation in certain respects. the discovery of the radioactive bodies has, in some sort, rendered popular the speculations of physicists on the phenomena of the disaggregation of matter. we shall have to seek the exact meaning which ought to be given to the experiments on the emanation of these bodies, and to discover whether these experiments really imperil the law of lavoisier. for some years different experimenters have also effected many very precise measurements of the weight of divers bodies both before and after chemical reactions between these bodies. two highly experienced and cautious physicists, professors landolt and heydweiller, have not hesitated to announce the sensational result that in certain circumstances the weight is no longer the same after as before the reaction. in particular, the weight of a solution of salts of copper in water is not the exact sum of the joint weights of the salt and the water. such experiments are evidently very delicate; they have been disputed, and they cannot be considered as sufficient for conviction. it follows nevertheless that it is no longer forbidden to regard the law of lavoisier as only an approximate law; according to sandford and ray, this approximation would be about / , , . this is also the result reached by professor poynting in experiments regarding the possible action of temperature on the weight of a body; and if this be really so, we may reassure ourselves, and from the point of view of practical application may continue to look upon matter as indestructible. the principles of physics, by imposing certain conditions on phenomena, limit after a fashion the field of the possible. among these principles is one which, notwithstanding its importance when compared with that of universally known principles, is less familiar to some people. this is the principle of symmetry, more or less conscious applications of which can, no doubt, be found in various works and even in the conceptions of copernican astronomers, but which was generalized and clearly enunciated for the first time by the late m. curie. this illustrious physicist pointed out the advantage of introducing into the study of physical phenomena the considerations on symmetry familiar to crystallographers; for a phenomenon to take place, it is necessary that a certain dissymmetry should previously exist in the medium in which this phenomenon occurs. a body, for instance, may be animated with a certain linear velocity or a speed of rotation; it may be compressed, or twisted; it may be placed in an electric or in a magnetic field; it may be affected by an electric current or by one of heat; it may be traversed by a ray of light either ordinary or polarized rectilineally or circularly, etc.:--in each case a certain minimum and characteristic dissymmetry is necessary at every point of the body in question. this consideration enables us to foresee that certain phenomena which might be imagined _a priori_ cannot exist. thus, for instance, it is impossible that an electric field, a magnitude directed and not superposable on its image in a mirror perpendicular to its direction, could be created at right angles to the plane of symmetry of the medium; while it would be possible to create a magnetic field under the same conditions. this consideration thus leads us to the discovery of new phenomena; but it must be understood that it cannot of itself give us absolutely precise notions as to the nature of these phenomena, nor disclose their order of magnitude. § . the principle of the conservation of energy dominating not physics alone, but nearly every other science, the principle of the conservation of energy is justly considered as the grandest conquest of contemporary thought. it shows us in a powerful light the most diverse questions; it introduces order into the most varied studies; it leads to a clear and coherent interpretation of phenomena which, without it, appear to have no connexion with each other; and it supplies precise and exact numerical relations between the magnitudes which enter into these phenomena. the boldest minds have an instinctive confidence in it, and it is the principle which has most stoutly resisted that assault which the daring of a few theorists has lately directed to the overthrow of the general principles of physics. at every new discovery, the first thought of physicists is to find out how it accords with the principle of the conservation of energy. the application of the principle, moreover, never fails to give valuable hints on the new phenomenon, and often even suggests a complementary discovery. up till now it seems never to have received a check, even the extraordinary properties of radium not seriously contradicting it; also the general form in which it is enunciated gives it such a suppleness that it is no doubt very difficult to overthrow. i do not claim to set forth here the complete history of this principle, but i will endeavour to show with what pains it was born, how it was kept back in its early days and then obstructed in its development by the unfavourable conditions of the surroundings in which it appeared. it first of all came, in fact, to oppose itself to the reigning theories; but, little by little, it acted on these theories, and they were modified under its pressure; then, in their turn, these theories reacted on it and changed its primitive form. it had to be made less wide in order to fit into the classic frame, and was absorbed by mechanics; and if it thus became less general, it gained in precision what it lost in extent. when once definitely admitted and classed, as it were, in the official domain of science, it endeavoured to burst its bonds and return to a more independent and larger life. the history of this principle is similar to that of all evolutions. it is well known that the conservation of energy was, at first, regarded from the point of view of the reciprocal transformations between heat and work, and that the principle received its first clear enunciation in the particular case of the principle of equivalence. it is, therefore, rightly considered that the scholars who were the first to doubt the material nature of caloric were the precursors of r. mayer; their ideas, however, were the same as those of the celebrated german doctor, for they sought especially to demonstrate that heat was a mode of motion. without going back to early and isolated attempts like those of daniel bernoulli, who, in his hydrodynamics, propounded the basis of the kinetic theory of gases, or the researches of boyle on friction, we may recall, to show how it was propounded in former times, a rather forgotten page of the _mémoire sur la chaleur_, published in by lavoisier and laplace: "other physicists," they wrote, after setting out the theory of caloric, "think that heat is nothing but the result of the insensible vibrations of matter.... in the system we are now examining, heat is the _vis viva_ resulting from the insensible movements of the molecules of a body; it is the sum of the products of the mass of each molecule by the square of its velocity.... we shall not decide between the two preceding hypotheses; several phenomena seem to support the last mentioned--for instance, that of the heat produced by the friction of two solid bodies. but there are others which are more simply explained by the first, and perhaps they both operate at once." most of the physicists of that period, however, did not share the prudent doubts of lavoisier and laplace. they admitted, without hesitation, the first hypothesis; and, four years after the appearance of the _mémoire sur la chaleur_, sigaud de lafond, a professor of physics of great reputation, wrote: "pure fire, free from all state of combination, seems to be an assembly of particles of a simple, homogeneous, and absolutely unalterable matter, and all the properties of this element indicate that these particles are infinitely small and free, that they have no sensible cohesion, and that they are moved in every possible direction by a continual and rapid motion which is essential to them.... the extreme tenacity and the surprising mobility of its molecules are manifestly shown by the ease with which it penetrates into the most compact bodies and by its tendency to put itself in equilibrium throughout all bodies near to it." it must be acknowledged, however, that the idea of lavoisier and laplace was rather vague and even inexact on one important point. they admitted it to be evident that "all variations of heat, whether real or apparent, undergone by a bodily system when changing its state, are produced in inverse order when the system passes back to its original state." this phrase is the very denial of equivalence where these changes of state are accompanied by external work. laplace, moreover, himself became later a very convinced partisan of the hypothesis of the material nature of caloric, and his immense authority, so fortunate in other respects for the development of science, was certainly in this case the cause of the retardation of progress. the names of young, rumford, davy, are often quoted among those physicists who, at the commencement of the nineteenth century, caught sight of the new truths as to the nature of heat. to these names is very properly added that of sadi carnot. a note found among his papers unquestionably proves that, before , ideas had occurred to him from which it resulted that in producing work an equivalent amount of heat was destroyed. but the year is particularly memorable in the history of science as the year in which jules robert mayer succeeded, by an entirely personal effort, in really enunciating the principle of the conservation of energy. chemists recall with just pride that the _remarques sur les forces de la nature animée_, contemptuously rejected by all the journals of physics, were received and published in the _annalen_ of liebig. we ought never to forget this example, which shows with what difficulty a new idea contrary to the classic theories of the period succeeds in coming to the front; but extenuating circumstances may be urged on behalf of the physicists. robert mayer had a rather insufficient mathematical education, and his memoirs, the _remarques_, as well as the ulterior publications, _mémoire sur le mouvement organique et la nutrition_ and the _matériaux pour la dynamique du ciel_, contain, side by side with very profound ideas, evident errors in mechanics. thus it often happens that discoveries put forward in a somewhat vague manner by adventurous minds not overburdened by the heavy baggage of scientific erudition, who audaciously press forward in advance of their time, fall into quite intelligible oblivion until rediscovered, clarified, and put into shape by slower but surer seekers. this was the case with the ideas of mayer. they were not understood at first sight, not only on account of their originality, but also because they were couched in incorrect language. mayer was, however, endowed with a singular strength of thought; he expressed in a rather confused manner a principle which, for him, had a generality greater than mechanics itself, and so his discovery was in advance not only of his own time but of half the century. he may justly be considered the founder of modern energetics. freed from the obscurities which prevented its being clearly perceived, his idea stands out to-day in all its imposing simplicity. yet it must be acknowledged that if it was somewhat denaturalised by those who endeavoured to adapt it to the theories of mechanics, and if it at first lost its sublime stamp of generality, it thus became firmly fixed and consolidated on a more stable basis. the efforts of helmholtz, clausius, and lord kelvin to introduce the principle of the conservation of energy into mechanics, were far from useless. these illustrious physicists succeeded in giving a more precise form to its numerous applications; and their attempts thus contributed, by reaction, to give a fresh impulse to mechanics, and allowed it to be linked to a more general order of facts. if energetics has not been able to be included in mechanics, it seems indeed that the attempt to include mechanics in energetics was not in vain. in the middle of the last century, the explanation of all natural phenomena seemed more and more referable to the case of central forces. everywhere it was thought that reciprocal actions between material points could be perceived, these points being attracted or repelled by each other with an intensity depending only on their distance or their mass. if, to a system thus composed, the laws of the classical mechanics are applied, it is shown that half the sum of the product of the masses by the square of the velocities, to which is added the work which might be accomplished by the forces to which the system would be subject if it returned from its actual to its initial position, is a sum constant in quantity. this sum, which is the mechanical energy of the system, is therefore an invariable quantity in all the states to which it may be brought by the interaction of its various parts, and the word energy well expresses a capital property of this quantity. for if two systems are connected in such a way that any change produced in the one necessarily brings about a change in the other, there can be no variation in the characteristic quantity of the second except so far as the characteristic quantity of the first itself varies--on condition, of course, that the connexions are made in such a manner as to introduce no new force. it will thus be seen that this quantity well expresses the capacity possessed by a system for modifying the state of a neighbouring system to which we may suppose it connected. now this theorem of pure mechanics was found wanting every time friction took place--that is to say, in all really observable cases. the more perceptible the friction, the more considerable the difference; but, in addition, a new phenomenon always appeared and heat was produced. by experiments which are now classic, it became established that the quantity of heat thus created independently of the nature of the bodies is always (provided no other phenomena intervene) proportional to the energy which has disappeared. reciprocally, also, heat may disappear, and we always find a constant relation between the quantities of heat and work which mutually replace each other. it is quite clear that such experiments do not prove that heat is work. we might just as well say that work is heat. it is making a gratuitous hypothesis to admit this reduction of heat to mechanism; but this hypothesis was so seductive, and so much in conformity with the desire of nearly all physicists to arrive at some sort of unity in nature, that they made it with eagerness and became unreservedly convinced that heat was an active internal force. their error was not in admitting this hypothesis; it was a legitimate one since it has proved very fruitful. but some of them committed the fault of forgetting that it was an hypothesis, and considered it a demonstrated truth. moreover, they were thus brought to see in phenomena nothing but these two particular forms of energy which in their minds were easily identified with each other. from the outset, however, it became manifest that the principle is applicable to cases where heat plays only a parasitical part. there were thus discovered, by translating the principle of equivalence, numerical relations between the magnitudes of electricity, for instance, and the magnitudes of mechanics. heat was a sort of variable intermediary convenient for calculation, but introduced in a roundabout way and destined to disappear in the final result. verdet, who, in lectures which have rightly remained celebrated, defined with remarkable clearness the new theories, said, in : "electrical phenomena are always accompanied by calorific manifestations, of which the study belongs to the mechanical theory of heat. this study, moreover, will not only have the effect of making known to us interesting facts in electricity, but will throw some light on the phenomena of electricity themselves." the eminent professor was thus expressing the general opinion of his contemporaries, but he certainly seemed to have felt in advance that the new theory was about to penetrate more deeply into the inmost nature of things. three years previously, rankine also had put forth some very remarkable ideas the full meaning of which was not at first well understood. he it was who comprehended the utility of employing a more inclusive term, and invented the phrase energetics. he also endeavoured to create a new doctrine of which rational mechanics should be only a particular case; and he showed that it was possible to abandon the ideas of atoms and central forces, and to construct a more general system by substituting for the ordinary consideration of forces that of the energy which exists in all bodies, partly in an actual, partly in a potential state. by giving more precision to the conceptions of rankine, the physicists of the end of the nineteenth century were brought to consider that in all physical phenomena there occur apparitions and disappearances which are balanced by various energies. it is natural, however, to suppose that these equivalent apparitions and disappearances correspond to transformations and not to simultaneous creations and destructions. we thus represent energy to ourselves as taking different forms--mechanical, electrical, calorific, and chemical-- capable of changing one into the other, but in such a way that the quantitative value always remains the same. in like manner a bank draft may be represented by notes, gold, silver, or bullion. the earliest known form of energy, _i.e._ work, will serve as the standard as gold serves as the monetary standard, and energy in all its forms will be estimated by the corresponding work. in each particular case we can strictly define and measure, by the correct application of the principle of the conservation of energy, the quantity of energy evolved under a given form. we can thus arrange a machine comprising a body capable of evolving this energy; then we can force all the organs of this machine to complete an entirely closed cycle, with the exception of the body itself, which, however, has to return to such a state that all the variables from which this state depends resume their initial values except the particular variable to which the evolution of the energy under consideration is linked. the difference between the work thus accomplished and that which would have been obtained if this variable also had returned to its original value, is the measure of the energy evolved. in the same way that, in the minds of mechanicians, all forces of whatever origin, which are capable of compounding with each other and of balancing each other, belong to the same category of beings, so for many physicists energy is a sort of entity which we find under various aspects. there thus exists for them a world, which comes in some way to superpose itself upon the world of matter--that is to say, the world of energy, dominated in its turn by a fundamental law similar to that of lavoisier.[ ] this conception, as we have already seen, passes the limit of experience; but others go further still. absorbed in the contemplation of this new world, they succeed in persuading themselves that the old world of matter has no real existence and that energy is sufficient by itself to give us a complete comprehension of the universe and of all the phenomena produced in it. they point out that all our sensations correspond to changes of energy, and that everything apparent to our senses is, in truth, energy. the famous experiment of the blows with a stick by which it was demonstrated to a sceptical philosopher that an outer world existed, only proves, in reality, the existence of energy, and not that of matter. the stick in itself is inoffensive, as professor ostwald remarks, and it is its _vis viva_, its kinetic energy, which is painful to us; while if we possessed a speed equal to its own, moving in the same direction, it would no longer exist so far as our sense of touch is concerned. [footnote : "nothing is created; nothing is lost"--ed.] on this hypothesis, matter would only be the capacity for kinetic energy, its pretended impenetrability energy of volume, and its weight energy of position in the particular form which presents itself in universal gravitation; nay, space itself would only be known to us by the expenditure of energy necessary to penetrate it. thus in all physical phenomena we should only have to regard the quantities of energy brought into play, and all the equations which link the phenomena to one another would have no meaning but when they apply to exchanges of energy. for energy alone can be common to all phenomena. this extreme manner of regarding things is seductive by its originality, but appears somewhat insufficient if, after enunciating generalities, we look more closely into the question. from the philosophical point of view it may, moreover, seem difficult not to conclude, from the qualities which reveal, if you will, the varied forms of energy, that there exists a substance possessing these qualities. this energy, which resides in one region, and which transports itself from one spot to another, forcibly brings to mind, whatever view we may take of it, the idea of matter. helmholtz endeavoured to construct a mechanics based on the idea of energy and its conservation, but he had to invoke a second law, the principle of least action. if he thus succeeded in dispensing with the hypothesis of atoms, and in showing that the new mechanics gave us to understand the impossibility of certain movements which, according to the old, ought to have been but never were experimentally produced, he was only able to do so because the principle of least action necessary for his theory became evident in the case of those irreversible phenomena which alone really exist in nature. the energetists have thus not succeeded in forming a thoroughly sound system, but their efforts have at all events been partly successful. most physicists are of their opinion, that kinetic energy is only a particular variety of energy to which we have no right to wish to connect all its other forms. if these forms showed themselves to be innumerable throughout the universe, the principle of the conservation of energy would, in fact, lose a great part of its importance. every time that a certain quantity of energy seemed to appear or disappear, it would always be permissible to suppose that an equivalent quantity had appeared or disappeared somewhere else under a new form; and thus the principle would in a way vanish. but the known forms of energy are fairly restricted in number, and the necessity of recognising new ones seldom makes itself felt. we shall see, however, that to explain, for instance, the paradoxical properties of radium and to re-establish concord between these properties and the principle of the conservation of energy, certain physicists have recourse to the hypothesis that radium borrows an unknown energy from the medium in which it is plunged. this hypothesis, however, is in no way necessary; and in a few other rare cases in which similar hypotheses have had to be set up, experiment has always in the long run enabled us to discover some phenomenon which had escaped the first observers and which corresponds exactly to the variation of energy first made evident. one difficulty, however, arises from the fact that the principle ought only to be applied to an isolated system. whether we imagine actions at a distance or believe in intermediate media, we must always recognise that there exist no bodies in the world incapable of acting on each other, and we can never affirm that some modification in the energy of a given place may not have its echo in some unknown spot afar off. this difficulty may sometimes render the value of the principle rather illusory. similarly, it behoves us not to receive without a certain distrust the extension by certain philosophers to the whole universe, of a property demonstrated for those restricted systems which observation can alone reach. we know nothing of the universe as a whole, and every generalization of this kind outruns in a singular fashion the limit of experiment. even reduced to the most modest proportions, the principle of the conservation of energy retains, nevertheless, a paramount importance; and it still preserves, if you will, a high philosophical value. m.j. perrin justly points out that it gives us a form under which we are experimentally able to grasp causality, and that it teaches us that a result has to be purchased at the cost of a determined effort. we can, in fact, with m. perrin and m. langevin, represent this in a way which puts this characteristic in evidence by enunciating it as follows: "if at the cost of a change c we can obtain a change k, there will never be acquired at the same cost, whatever the mechanism employed, first the change k and in addition some other change, unless this latter be one that is otherwise known to cost nothing to produce or to destroy." if, for instance, the fall of a weight can be accompanied, without anything else being produced, by another transformation--the melting of a certain mass of ice, for example--it will be impossible, no matter how you set about it or whatever the mechanism used, to associate this same transformation with the melting of another weight of ice. we can thus, in the transformation in question, obtain an appropriate number which will sum up that which may be expected from the external effect, and can give, so to speak, the price at which this transformation is bought, measure its invariable value by a common measure (for instance, the melting of the ice), and, without any ambiguity, define the energy lost during the transformation as proportional to the mass of ice which can be associated with it. this measure is, moreover, independent of the particular phenomenon taken as the common measure. § . the principle of carnot and clausius the principle of carnot, of a nature analogous to the principle of the conservation of energy, has also a similar origin. it was first enunciated, like the last named, although prior to it in time, in consequence of considerations which deal only with heat and mechanical work. like it, too, it has evolved, grown, and invaded the entire domain of physics. it may be interesting to examine rapidly the various phases of this evolution. the origin of the principle of carnot is clearly determined, and it is very rare to be able to go back thus certainly to the source of a discovery. sadi carnot had, truth to say, no precursor. in his time heat engines were not yet very common, and no one had reflected much on their theory. he was doubtless the first to propound to himself certain questions, and certainly the first to solve them. it is known how, in , in his _réflexions sur la puissance motrice du feu_, he endeavoured to prove that "the motive power of heat is independent of the agents brought into play for its realization," and that "its quantity is fixed solely by the temperature of the bodies between which, in the last resort, the transport of caloric is effected"--at least in all engines in which "the method of developing the motive power attains the perfection of which it is capable"; and this is, almost textually, one of the enunciations of the principle at the present day. carnot perceived very clearly the great fact that, to produce work by heat, it is necessary to have at one's disposal a fall of temperature. on this point he expresses himself with perfect clearness: "the motive power of a fall of water depends on its height and on the quantity of liquid; the motive power of heat depends also on the quantity of caloric employed, and on what might be called--in fact, what we shall call--the height of fall, that is to say, the difference in temperature of the bodies between which the exchange of caloric takes place." starting with this idea, he endeavours to demonstrate, by associating two engines capable of working in a reversible cycle, that the principle is founded on the impossibility of perpetual motion. his memoir, now celebrated, did not produce any great sensation, and it had almost fallen into deep oblivion, which, in consequence of the discovery of the principle of equivalence, might have seemed perfectly justified. written, in fact, on the hypothesis of the indestructibility of caloric, it was to be expected that this memoir should be condemned in the name of the new doctrine, that is, of the principle recently brought to light. it was really making a new discovery to establish that carnot's fundamental idea survived the destruction of the hypothesis on the nature of heat, on which he seemed to rely. as he no doubt himself perceived, his idea was quite independent of this hypothesis, since, as we have seen, he was led to surmise that heat could disappear; but his demonstrations needed to be recast and, in some points, modified. it is to clausius that was reserved the credit of rediscovering the principle, and of enunciating it in language conformable to the new doctrines, while giving it a much greater generality. the postulate arrived at by experimental induction, and which must be admitted without demonstration, is, according to clausius, that in a series of transformations in which the final is identical with the initial stage, it is impossible for heat to pass from a colder to a warmer body unless some other accessory phenomenon occurs at the same time. still more correctly, perhaps, an enunciation can be given of the postulate which, in the main, is analogous, by saying: a heat motor, which after a series of transformations returns to its initial state, can only furnish work if there exist at least two sources of heat, and if a certain quantity of heat is given to one of the sources, which can never be the hotter of the two. by the expression "source of heat," we mean a body exterior to the system and capable of furnishing or withdrawing heat from it. starting with this principle, we arrive, as does clausius, at the demonstration that the output of a reversible machine working between two given temperatures is greater than that of any non-reversible engine, and that it is the same for all reversible machines working between these two temperatures. this is the very proposition of carnot; but the proposition thus stated, while very useful for the theory of engines, does not yet present any very general interest. clausius, however, drew from it much more important consequences. first, he showed that the principle conduces to the definition of an absolute scale of temperature; and then he was brought face to face with a new notion which allows a strong light to be thrown on the questions of physical equilibrium. i refer to entropy. it is still rather difficult to strip entirely this very important notion of all analytical adornment. many physicists hesitate to utilize it, and even look upon it with some distrust, because they see in it a purely mathematical function without any definite physical meaning. perhaps they are here unduly severe, since they often admit too easily the objective existence of quantities which they cannot define. thus, for instance, it is usual almost every day to speak of the heat possessed by a body. yet no body in reality possesses a definite quantity of heat even relatively to any initial state; since starting from this point of departure, the quantities of heat it may have gained or lost vary with the road taken and even with the means employed to follow it. these expressions of heat gained or lost are, moreover, themselves evidently incorrect, for heat can no longer be considered as a sort of fluid passing from one body to another. the real reason which makes entropy somewhat mysterious is that this magnitude does not fall directly under the ken of any of our senses; but it possesses the true characteristic of a concrete physical magnitude, since it is, in principle at least, measurable. various authors of thermodynamical researches, amongst whom m. mouret should be particularly mentioned, have endeavoured to place this characteristic in evidence. consider an isothermal transformation. instead of leaving the heat abandoned by the body subjected to the transformation--water condensing in a state of saturated vapour, for instance--to pass directly into an ice calorimeter, we can transmit this heat to the calorimeter by the intermediary of a reversible carnot engine. the engine having absorbed this quantity of heat, will only give back to the ice a lesser quantity of heat; and the weight of the melted ice, inferior to that which might have been directly given back, will serve as a measure of the isothermal transformation thus effected. it can be easily shown that this measure is independent of the apparatus used. it consequently becomes a numerical element characteristic of the body considered, and is called its entropy. entropy, thus defined, is a variable which, like pressure or volume, might serve concurrently with another variable, such as pressure or volume, to define the state of a body. it must be perfectly understood that this variable can change in an independent manner, and that it is, for instance, distinct from the change of temperature. it is also distinct from the change which consists in losses or gains of heat. in chemical reactions, for example, the entropy increases without the substances borrowing any heat. when a perfect gas dilates in a vacuum its entropy increases, and yet the temperature does not change, and the gas has neither been able to give nor receive heat. we thus come to conceive that a physical phenomenon cannot be considered known to us if the variation of entropy is not given, as are the variations of temperature and of pressure or the exchanges of heat. the change of entropy is, properly speaking, the most characteristic fact of a thermal change. it is important, however, to remark that if we can thus easily define and measure the difference of entropy between two states of the same body, the value found depends on the state arbitrarily chosen as the zero point of entropy; but this is not a very serious difficulty, and is analogous to that which occurs in the evaluation of other physical magnitudes--temperature, potential, etc. a graver difficulty proceeds from its not being possible to define a difference, or an equality, of entropy between two bodies chemically different. we are unable, in fact, to pass by any means, reversible or not, from one to the other, so long as the transmutation of matter is regarded as impossible; but it is well understood that it is nevertheless possible to compare the variations of entropy to which these two bodies are both of them individually subject. neither must we conceal from ourselves that the definition supposes, for a given body, the possibility of passing from one state to another by a reversible transformation. reversibility is an ideal and extreme case which cannot be realized, but which can be approximately attained in many circumstances. so with gases and with perfectly elastic bodies, we effect sensibly reversible transformations, and changes of physical state are practically reversible. the discoveries of sainte-claire deville have brought many chemical phenomena into a similar category, and reactions such as solution, which used to be formerly the type of an irreversible phenomenon, may now often be effected by sensibly reversible means. be that as it may, when once the definition is admitted, we arrive, by taking as a basis the principles set forth at the inception, at the demonstration of the celebrated theorem of clausius: _the entropy of a thermally isolated system continues to increase incessantly._ it is very evident that the theorem can only be worth applying in cases where the entropy can be exactly defined; but, even when thus limited, the field still remains vast, and the harvest which we can there reap is very abundant. entropy appears, then, as a magnitude measuring in a certain way the evolution of a system, or, at least, as giving the direction of this evolution. this very important consequence certainly did not escape clausius, since the very name of entropy, which he chose to designate this magnitude, itself signifies evolution. we have succeeded in defining this entropy by demonstrating, as has been said, a certain number of propositions which spring from the postulate of clausius; it is, therefore, natural to suppose that this postulate itself contains _in potentia_ the very idea of a necessary evolution of physical systems. but as it was first enunciated, it contains it in a deeply hidden way. no doubt we should make the principle of carnot appear in an interesting light by endeavouring to disengage this fundamental idea, and by placing it, as it were, in large letters. just as, in elementary geometry, we can replace the postulate of euclid by other equivalent propositions, so the postulate of thermodynamics is not necessarily fixed, and it is instructive to try to give it the most general and suggestive character. mm. perrin and langevin have made a successful attempt in this direction. m. perrin enunciates the following principle: _an isolated system never passes twice through the same state_. in this form, the principle affirms that there exists a necessary order in the succession of two phenomena; that evolution takes place in a determined direction. if you prefer it, it may be thus stated: _of two converse transformations unaccompanied by any external effect, one only is possible_. for instance, two gases may diffuse themselves one in the other in constant volume, but they could not conversely separate themselves spontaneously. starting from the principle thus put forward, we make the logical deduction that one cannot hope to construct an engine which should work for an indefinite time by heating a hot source and by cooling a cold one. we thus come again into the route traced by clausius, and from this point we may follow it strictly. whatever the point of view adopted, whether we regard the proposition of m. perrin as the corollary of another experimental postulate, or whether we consider it as a truth which we admit _a priori_ and verify through its consequences, we are led to consider that in its entirety the principle of carnot resolves itself into the idea that we cannot go back along the course of life, and that the evolution of a system must follow its necessary progress. clausius and lord kelvin have drawn from these considerations certain well-known consequences on the evolution of the universe. noticing that entropy is a property added to matter, they admit that there is in the world a total amount of entropy; and as all real changes which are produced in any system correspond to an increase of entropy, it may be said that the entropy of the world is continually increasing. thus the quantity of energy existing in the universe remains constant, but transforms itself little by little into heat uniformly distributed at a temperature everywhere identical. in the end, therefore, there will be neither chemical phenomena nor manifestation of life; the world will still exist, but without motion, and, so to speak, dead. these consequences must be admitted to be very doubtful; we cannot in any certain way apply to the universe, which is not a finite system, a proposition demonstrated, and that not unreservedly, in the sharply limited case of a finite system. herbert spencer, moreover, in his book on _first principles_, brings out with much force the idea that, even if the universe came to an end, nothing would allow us to conclude that, once at rest, it would remain so indefinitely. we may recognise that the state in which we are began at the end of a former evolutionary period, and that the end of the existing era will mark the beginning of a new one. like an elastic and mobile object which, thrown into the air, attains by degrees the summit of its course, then possesses a zero velocity and is for a moment in equilibrium, and then falls on touching the ground to rebound, so the world should be subjected to huge oscillations which first bring it to a maximum of entropy till the moment when there should be produced a slow evolution in the contrary direction bringing it back to the state from which it started. thus, in the infinity of time, the life of the universe proceeds without real stop. this conception is, moreover, in accordance with the view certain physicists take of the principle of carnot. we shall see, for example, that in the kinetic theory we are led to admit that, after waiting sufficiently long, we can witness the return of the various states through which a mass of gas, for example, has passed in its series of transformations. if we keep to the present era, evolution has a fixed direction--that which leads to an increase of entropy; and it is possible to enquire, in any given system to what physical manifestations this increase corresponds. we note that kinetic, potential, electrical, and chemical forms of energy have a great tendency to transform themselves into calorific energy. a chemical reaction, for example, gives out energy; but if the reaction is not produced under very special conditions, this energy immediately passes into the calorific form. this is so true, that chemists currently speak of the heat given out by reactions instead of regarding the energy disengaged in general. in all these transformations the calorific energy obtained has not, from a practical point of view, the same value at which it started. one cannot, in fact, according to the principle of carnot, transform it integrally into mechanical energy, since the heat possessed by a body can only yield work on condition that a part of it falls on a body with a lower temperature. thus appears the idea that energies which exchange with each other and correspond to equal quantities have not the same qualitative value. form has its importance, and there are persons who prefer a golden louis to four pieces of five francs. the principle of carnot would thus lead us to consider a certain classification of energies, and would show us that, in the transformations possible, these energies always tend to a sort of diminution of quality--that is, to a _degradation_. it would thus reintroduce an element of differentiation of which it seems very difficult to give a mechanical explanation. certain philosophers and physicists see in this fact a reason which condemns _a priori_ all attempts made to give a mechanical explanation of the principle of carnot. it is right, however, not to exaggerate the importance that should be attributed to the phrase degraded energy. if the heat is not equivalent to the work, if heat at ° is not equivalent to heat at °, that means that we cannot in practice construct an engine which shall transform all this heat into work, or that, for the same cold source, the output is greater when the temperature of the hot source is higher; but if it were possible that this cold source had itself the temperature of absolute zero, the whole heat would reappear in the form of work. the case here considered is an ideal and extreme case, and we naturally cannot realize it; but this consideration suffices to make it plain that the classification of energies is a little arbitrary and depends more, perhaps, on the conditions in which mankind lives than on the inmost nature of things. in fact, the attempts which have often been made to refer the principle of carnot to mechanics have not given convincing results. it has nearly always been necessary to introduce into the attempt some new hypothesis independent of the fundamental hypotheses of ordinary mechanics, and equivalent, in reality, to one of the postulates on which the ordinary exposition of the second law of thermodynamics is founded. helmholtz, in a justly celebrated theory, endeavoured to fit the principle of carnot into the principle of least action; but the difficulties regarding the mechanical interpretation of the irreversibility of physical phenomena remain entire. looking at the question, however, from the point of view at which the partisans of the kinetic theories of matter place themselves, the principle is viewed in a new aspect. gibbs and afterwards boltzmann and professor planck have put forward some very interesting ideas on this subject. by following the route they have traced, we come to consider the principle as pointing out to us that a given system tends towards the configuration presented by the maximum probability, and, numerically, the entropy would even be the logarithm of this probability. thus two different gaseous masses, enclosed in two separate receptacles which have just been placed in communication, diffuse themselves one through the other, and it is highly improbable that, in their mutual shocks, both kinds of molecules should take a distribution of velocities which reduce them by a spontaneous phenomenon to the initial state. we should have to wait a very long time for so extraordinary a concourse of circumstances, but, in strictness, it would not be impossible. the principle would only be a law of probability. yet this probability is all the greater the more considerable is the number of molecules itself. in the phenomena habitually dealt with, this number is such that, practically, the variation of entropy in a constant sense takes, so to speak, the character of absolute certainty. but there may be exceptional cases where the complexity of the system becomes insufficient for the application of the principle of carnot;-- as in the case of the curious movements of small particles suspended in a liquid which are known by the name of brownian movements and can be observed under the microscope. the agitation here really seems, as m. gouy has remarked, to be produced and continued indefinitely, regardless of any difference in temperature; and we seem to witness the incessant motion, in an isothermal medium, of the particles which constitute matter. perhaps, however, we find ourselves already in conditions where the too great simplicity of the distribution of the molecules deprives the principle of its value. m. lippmann has in the same way shown that, on the kinetic hypothesis, it is possible to construct such mechanisms that we can so take cognizance of molecular movements that _vis viva_ can be taken from them. the mechanisms of m. lippmann are not, like the celebrated apparatus at one time devised by maxwell, purely hypothetical. they do not suppose a partition with a hole impossible to be bored through matter where the molecular spaces would be larger than the hole itself. they have finite dimensions. thus m. lippmann considers a vase full of oxygen at a constant temperature. in the interior of this vase is placed a small copper ring, and the whole is set in a magnetic field. the oxygen molecules are, as we know, magnetic, and when passing through the interior of the ring they produce in this ring an induced current. during this time, it is true, other molecules emerge from the space enclosed by the circuit; but the two effects do not counterbalance each other, and the resulting current is maintained. there is elevation of temperature in the circuit in accordance with joule's law; and this phenomenon, under such conditions, is incompatible with the principle of carnot. it is possible--and that, i think, is m. lippmann's idea--to draw from his very ingenious criticism an objection to the kinetic theory, if we admit the absolute value of the principle; but we may also suppose that here again we are in presence of a system where the prescribed conditions diminish the complexity and render it, consequently, less probable that the evolution is always effected in the same direction. in whatever way you look at it, the principle of carnot furnishes, in the immense majority of cases, a very sure guide in which physicists continue to have the most entire confidence. § . thermodynamics to apply the two fundamental principles of thermodynamics, various methods may be employed, equivalent in the main, but presenting as the cases vary a greater or less convenience. in recording, with the aid of the two quantities, energy and entropy, the relations which translate analytically the two principles, we obtain two relations between the coefficients which occur in a given phenomenon; but it may be easier and also more suggestive to employ various functions of these quantities. in a memoir, of which some extracts appeared as early as , a modest scholar, m. massieu, indicated in particular a remarkable function which he termed a characteristic function, and by the employment of which calculations are simplified in certain cases. in the same way j.w. gibbs, in and , then helmholtz in , and, in france, m. duhem, from the year onward, have published works, at first ill understood, of which the renown was, however, considerable in the sequel, and in which they made use of analogous functions under the names of available energy, free energy, or internal thermodynamic potential. the magnitude thus designated, attaching, as a consequence of the two principles, to all states of the system, is perfectly determined when the temperature and other normal variables are known. it allows us, by calculations often very easy, to fix the conditions necessary and sufficient for the maintenance of the system in equilibrium by foreign bodies taken at the same temperature as itself. one may hope to constitute in this way, as m. duhem in a long and remarkable series of operations has specially endeavoured to do, a sort of general mechanics which will enable questions of statics to be treated with accuracy, and all the conditions of equilibrium of the system, including the calorific properties, to be determined. thus, ordinary statics teaches us that a liquid with its vapour on the top forms a system in equilibrium, if we apply to the two fluids a pressure depending on temperature alone. thermodynamics will furnish us, in addition, with the expression of the heat of vaporization and of, the specific heats of the two saturated fluids. this new study has given us also most valuable information on compressible fluids and on the theory of elastic equilibrium. added to certain hypotheses on electric or magnetic phenomena, it gives a coherent whole from which can be deduced the conditions of electric or magnetic equilibrium; and it illuminates with a brilliant light the calorific laws of electrolytic phenomena. but the most indisputable triumph of this thermodynamic statics is the discovery of the laws which regulate the changes of physical state or of chemical constitution. j.w. gibbs was the author of this immense progress. his memoir, now celebrated, on "the equilibrium of heterogeneous substances," concealed in in a review at that time of limited circulation, and rather heavy to read, seemed only to contain algebraic theorems applicable with difficulty to reality. it is known that helmholtz independently succeeded, a few years later, in introducing thermodynamics into the domain of chemistry by his conception of the division of energy into free and into bound energy: the first, capable of undergoing all transformations, and particularly of transforming itself into external action; the second, on the other hand, bound, and only manifesting itself by giving out heat. when we measure chemical energy, we ordinarily let it fall wholly into the calorific form; but, in reality, it itself includes both parts, and it is the variation of the free energy and not that of the total energy measured by the integral disengagement of heat, the sign of which determines the direction in which the reactions are effected. but if the principle thus enunciated by helmholtz as a consequence of the laws of thermodynamics is at bottom identical with that discovered by gibbs, it is more difficult of application and is presented under a more mysterious aspect. it was not until m. van der waals exhumed the memoir of gibbs, when numerous physicists or chemists, most of them dutch--professor van t'hoff, bakhius roozeboom, and others--utilized the rules set forth in this memoir for the discussion of the most complicated chemical reactions, that the extent of the new laws was fully understood. the chief rule of gibbs is the one so celebrated at the present day under the name of the phase law. we know that by phases are designated the homogeneous substances into which a system is divided; thus carbonate of lime, lime, and carbonic acid gas are the three phases of a system which comprises iceland spar partially dissociated into lime and carbonic acid gas. the number of phases added to the number of independent components--that is to say, bodies whose mass is left arbitrary by the chemical formulas of the substances entering into the reaction--fixes the general form of the law of equilibrium of the system; that is to say, the number of quantities which, by their variations (temperature and pressure), would be of a nature to modify its equilibrium by modifying the constitution of the phases. several authors, m. raveau in particular, have indeed given very simple demonstrations of this law which are not based on thermodynamics; but thermodynamics, which led to its discovery, continues to give it its true scope. moreover, it would not suffice merely to determine quantitatively those laws of which it makes known the general form. we must, if we wish to penetrate deeper into details, particularize the hypothesis, and admit, for instance, with gibbs that we are dealing with perfect gases; while, thanks to thermodynamics, we can constitute a complete theory of dissociation which leads to formulas in complete accord with the numerical results of the experiment. we can thus follow closely all questions concerning the displacements of the equilibrium, and find a relation of the first importance between the masses of the bodies which react in order to constitute a system in equilibrium. the statics thus constructed constitutes at the present day an important edifice to be henceforth classed amongst historical monuments. some theorists even wish to go a step beyond. they have attempted to begin by the same means a more complete study of those systems whose state changes from one moment to another. this is, moreover, a study which is necessary to complete satisfactorily the study of equilibrium itself; for without it grave doubts would exist as to the conditions of stability, and it alone can give their true meaning to questions relating to displacements of equilibrium. the problems with which we are thus confronted are singularly difficult. m. duhem has given us many excellent examples of the fecundity of the method; but if thermodynamic statics may be considered definitely founded, it cannot be said that the general dynamics of systems, considered as the study of thermal movements and variations, are yet as solidly established. § . atomism it may appear singularly paradoxical that, in a chapter devoted to general views on the principles of physics, a few words should be introduced on the atomic theories of matter. very often, in fact, what is called the physics of principles is set in opposition to the hypotheses on the constitution of matter, particularly to atomic theories. i have already said that, abandoning the investigation of the unfathomable mystery of the constitution of the universe, some physicists think they may find, in certain general principles, sufficient guides to conduct them across the physical world. but i have also said, in examining the history of those principles, that if they are to-day considered experimental truths, independent of all theories relating to matter, they have, in fact, nearly all been discovered by scholars who relied on molecular hypotheses: and the question suggests itself whether this is mere chance, or whether this chance may not be ordained by higher reasons. in a very profound work which appeared a few years ago, entitled _essai critique sur l'hypothese des atomes_, m. hannequin, a philosopher who is also an erudite scholar, examined the part taken by atomism in the history of science. he notes that atomism and science were born, in greece, of the same problem, and that in modern times the revival of the one was closely connected with that of the other. he shows, too, by very close analysis, that the atomic hypothesis is essential to the optics of fresnel and of cauchy; that it penetrates into the study of heat; and that, in its general features, it presided at the birth of modern chemistry and is linked with all its progress. he concludes that it is, in a manner, the soul of our knowledge of nature, and that contemporary theories are on this point in accord with history: for these theories consecrate the preponderance of this hypothesis in the domain of science. if m. hannequin had not been prematurely cut off in the full expansion of his vigorous talent, he might have added another chapter to his excellent book. he would have witnessed a prodigious budding of atomistic ideas, accompanied, it is true, by wide modifications in the manner in which the atom is to be regarded, since the most recent theories make material atoms into centres constituted of atoms of electricity. on the other hand, he would have found in the bursting forth of these new doctrines one more proof in support of his idea that science is indissolubly bound to atomism. from the philosophical point of view, m. hannequin, examining the reasons which may have called these links into being, arrives at the idea that they necessarily proceed from the constitution of our knowledge, or, perhaps, from that of nature itself. moreover, this origin, double in appearance, is single at bottom. our minds could not, in fact, detach and come out of themselves to grasp reality and the absolute in nature. according to the idea of descartes, it is the destiny of our minds only to take hold of and to understand that which proceeds from them. thus atomism, which is, perhaps, only an appearance containing even some contradictions, is yet a well-founded appearance, since it conforms to the laws of our minds; and this hypothesis is, in a way, necessary. we may dispute the conclusions of m. hannequin, but no one will refuse to recognise, as he does, that atomic theories occupy a preponderating part in the doctrines of physics; and the position which they have thus conquered gives them, in a way, the right of saying that they rest on a real principle. it is in order to recognise this right that several physicists--m. langevin, for example--ask that atoms be promoted from the rank of hypotheses to that of principles. by this they mean that the atomistic ideas forced upon us by an almost obligatory induction based on very exact experiments, enable us to co-ordinate a considerable amount of facts, to construct a very general synthesis, and to foresee a great number of phenomena. it is of moment, moreover, to thoroughly understand that atomism does not necessarily set up the hypothesis of centres of attraction acting at a distance, and it must not be confused with molecular physics, which has, on the other hand, undergone very serious checks. the molecular physics greatly in favour some fifty years ago leads to such complex representations and to solutions often so undetermined, that the most courageous are wearied with upholding it and it has fallen into some discredit. it rested on the fundamental principles of mechanics applied to molecular actions; and that was, no doubt, an extension legitimate enough, since mechanics is itself only an experimental science, and its principles, established for the movements of matter taken as a whole, should not be applied outside the domain which belongs to them. atomism, in fact, tends more and more, in modern theories, to imitate the principle of the conservation of energy or that of entropy, to disengage itself from the artificial bonds which attached it to mechanics, and to put itself forward as an independent principle. atomistic ideas also have undergone evolution, and this slow evolution has been considerably quickened under the influence of modern discoveries. these reach back to the most remote antiquity, and to follow their development we should have to write the history of human thought which they have always accompanied since the time of leucippus, democritus, epicurus, and lucretius. the first observers who noticed that the volume of a body could be diminished by compression or cold, or augmented by heat, and who saw a soluble solid body mix completely with the water which dissolved it, must have been compelled to suppose that matter was not dispersed continuously throughout the space it seemed to occupy. they were thus brought to consider it discontinuous, and to admit that a substance having the same composition and the same properties in all its parts--in a word, perfectly homogeneous--ceases to present this homogeneity when considered within a sufficiently small volume. modern experimenters have succeeded by direct experiments in placing in evidence this heterogeneous character of matter when taken in small mass. thus, for example, the superficial tension, which is constant for the same liquid at a given temperature, no longer has the same value when the thickness of the layer of liquid becomes extremely small. newton noticed even in his time that a dark zone is seen to form on a soap bubble at the moment when it becomes so thin that it must burst. professor reinold and sir arthur rücker have shown that this zone is no longer exactly spherical; and from this we must conclude that the superficial tension, constant for all thicknesses above a certain limit, commences to vary when the thickness falls below a critical value, which these authors estimate, on optical grounds, at about fifty millionths of a millimetre. from experiments on capillarity, prof. quincke has obtained similar results with regard to layers of solids. but it is not only capillary properties which allow this characteristic to be revealed. all the properties of a body are modified when taken in small mass; m. meslin proves this in a very ingenious way as regards optical properties, and mr vincent in respect of electric conductivity. m. houllevigue, who, in a chapter of his excellent work, _du laboratoire à l'usine_, has very clearly set forth the most interesting considerations on atomic hypotheses, has recently demonstrated that copper and silver cease to combine with iodine as soon as they are present in a thickness of less than thirty millionths of a millimetre. it is this same dimension likewise that is possessed, according to m. wiener, by the smallest thicknesses it is possible to deposit on glass. these layers are so thin that they cannot be perceived, but their presence is revealed by a change in the properties of the light reflected by them. thus, below fifty to thirty millionths of a millimetre the properties of matter depend on its thickness. there are then, no doubt, only a few molecules to be met with, and it may be concluded, in consequence, that the discontinuous elements of bodies--that is, the molecules-- have linear dimensions of the order of magnitude of the millionth of a millimetre. considerations regarding more complex phenomena, for instance the phenomena of electricity by contact, and also the kinetic theory of gases, bring us to the same conclusion. the idea of the discontinuity of matter forces itself upon us for many other reasons. all modern chemistry is founded on this principle; and laws like the law of multiple proportions, introduce an evident discontinuity to which we find analogies in the law of electrolysis. the elements of bodies we are thus brought to regard might, as regards solids at all events, be considered as immobile; but this immobility could not explain the phenomena of heat, and, as it is entirely inadmissible for gases, it seems very improbable it can absolutely occur in any state. we are thus led to suppose that these elements are animated by very complicated movements, each one proceeding in closed trajectories in which the least variations of temperature or pressure cause modifications. the atomistic hypothesis shows itself remarkably fecund in the study of phenomena produced in gases, and here the mutual independence of the particles renders the question relatively more simple and, perhaps, allows the principles of mechanics to be more certainly extended to the movements of molecules. the kinetic theory of gases can point to unquestioned successes; and the idea of daniel bernouilli, who, as early as , considered a gaseous mass to be formed of a considerable number of molecules animated by rapid movements of translation, has been put into a form precise enough for mathematical analysis, and we have thus found ourselves in a position to construct a really solid foundation. it will be at once conceived, on this hypothesis, that pressure is the resultant of the shocks of the molecules against the walls of the containing vessel, and we at once come to the demonstration that the law of mariotte is a natural consequence of this origin of pressure; since, if the volume occupied by a certain number of molecules is doubled, the number of shocks per second on each square centimetre of the walls becomes half as much. but if we attempt to carry this further, we find ourselves in presence of a serious difficulty. it is impossible to mentally follow every one of the many individual molecules which compose even a very limited mass of gas. the path followed by this molecule may be every instant modified by the chance of running against another, or by a shock which may make it rebound in another direction. the difficulty would be insoluble if chance had not laws of its own. it was maxwell who first thought of introducing into the kinetic theory the calculation of probabilities. willard gibbs and boltzmann later on developed this idea, and have founded a statistical method which does not, perhaps, give absolute certainty, but which is certainly most interesting and curious. molecules are grouped in such a way that those belonging to the same group may be considered as having the same state of movement; then an examination is made of the number of molecules in each group, and what are the changes in this number from one moment to another. it is thus often possible to determine the part which the different groups have in the total properties of the system and in the phenomena which may occur. such a method, analogous to the one employed by statisticians for following the social phenomena in a population, is all the more legitimate the greater the number of individuals counted in the averages; now, the number of molecules contained in a limited space-- for example, in a centimetre cube taken in normal conditions--is such that no population could ever attain so high a figure. all considerations, those we have indicated as well as others which might be invoked (for example, the recent researches of m. spring on the limit of visibility of fluorescence), give this result:--that there are, in this space, some twenty thousand millions of molecules. each of these must receive in the space of a millimetre about ten thousand shocks, and be ten thousand times thrust out of its course. the free path of a molecule is then very small, but it can be singularly augmented by diminishing the number of them. tait and dewar have calculated that, in a good modern vacuum, the length of the free path of the remaining molecules not taken away by the air-pump easily reaches a few centimetres. by developing this theory, we come to consider that, for a given temperature, every molecule (and even every individual particle, atom, or ion) which takes part in the movement has, on the average, the same kinetic energy in every body, and that this energy is proportional to the absolute temperature; so that it is represented by this temperature multiplied by a constant quantity which is a universal constant. this result is not an hypothesis but a very great probability. this probability increases when it is noted that the same value for the constant is met with in the study of very varied phenomena; for example, in certain theories on radiation. knowing the mass and energy of a molecule, it is easy to calculate its speed; and we find that the average speed is about metres per second for carbonic anhydride, for nitrogen, and for hydrogen at ° c. and at ordinary pressure. i shall have occasion, later on, to speak of much more considerable speeds than these as animating other particles. the kinetic theory has permitted the diffusion of gases to be explained, and the divers circumstances of the phenomenon to be calculated. it has allowed us to show, as m. brillouin has done, that the coefficient of diffusion of two gases does not depend on the proportion of the gases in the mixture; it gives a very striking image of the phenomena of viscosity and conductivity; and it leads us to think that the coefficients of friction and of conductivity are independent of the density; while all these previsions have been verified by experiment. it has also invaded optics; and by relying on the principle of doppler, professor michelson has succeeded in obtaining from it an explanation of the length presented by the spectral rays of even the most rarefied gases. but however interesting are these results, they would not have sufficed to overcome the repugnance of certain physicists for speculations which, an imposing mathematical baggage notwithstanding, seemed to them too hypothetical. the theory, moreover, stopped at the molecule, and appeared to suggest no idea which could lead to the discovery of the key to the phenomena where molecules exercise a mutual influence on each other. the kinetic hypothesis, therefore, remained in some disfavour with a great number of persons, particularly in france, until the last few years, when all the recent discoveries of the conductivity of gases and of the new radiations came to procure for it a new and luxuriant efflorescence. it may be said that the atomistic synthesis, but yesterday so decried, is to-day triumphant. the elements which enter into the earlier kinetic theory, and which, to avoid confusion, should be always designated by the name of molecules, were not, truth to say, in the eyes of the chemists, the final term of the divisibility of matter. it is well known that, to them, except in certain particular bodies like the vapour of mercury and argon, the molecule comprises several atoms, and that, in compound bodies, the number of these atoms may even be fairly considerable. but physicists rarely needed to have recourse to the consideration of these atoms. they spoke of them to explain certain particularities of the propagation of sound, and to enunciate laws relating to specific heats; but, in general, they stopped at the consideration of the molecule. the present theories carry the division much further. i shall not dwell now on these theories, since, in order to thoroughly understand them, many other facts must be examined. but to avoid all confusion, it remains understood that, contrary, no doubt, to etymology, but in conformity with present custom, i shall continue in what follows to call atoms those particles of matter which have till now been spoken of; these atoms being themselves, according to modern views, singularly complex edifices formed of elements, of which we shall have occasion to indicate the nature later. chapter iv the various states of matter § . the statics of fluids the division of bodies into gaseous, liquid, and solid, and the distinction established for the same substance between the three states, retain a great importance for the applications and usages of daily life, but have long since lost their absolute value from the scientific point of view. so far as concerns the liquid and gaseous states particularly, the already antiquated researches of andrews confirmed the ideas of cagniard de la tour and established the continuity of the two states. a group of physical studies has thus been constituted on what may be called the statics of fluids, in which we examine the relations existing between the pressure, the volume, and the temperature of bodies, and in which are comprised, under the term fluid, gases as well as liquids. these researches deserve attention by their interest and the generality of the results to which they have led. they also give a remarkable example of the happy effects which may be obtained by the combined employment of the various methods of investigation used in exploring the domain of nature. thermodynamics has, in fact, allowed us to obtain numerical relations between the various coefficients, and atomic hypotheses have led to the establishment of one capital relation, the characteristic equation of fluids; while, on the other hand, experiment in which the progress made in the art of measurement has been utilized, has furnished the most valuable information on all the laws of compressibility and dilatation. the classical work of andrews was not very wide. andrews did not go much beyond pressures close to the normal and ordinary temperatures. of late years several very interesting and peculiar cases have been examined by mm. cailletet, mathias, batelli, leduc, p. chappuis, and other physicists. sir w. ramsay and mr s. young have made known the isothermal diagrams[ ] of a certain number of liquid bodies at the ordinary temperature. they have thus been able, while keeping to somewhat restricted limits of temperature and pressure, to touch upon the most important questions, since they found themselves in the region of the saturation curve and of the critical point. [footnote : by isothermal diagram is meant the pattern or complex formed when the isothermal lines are arranged in curves of which the pressure is the ordinate and the volume the abscissa.--ed.] but the most complete and systematic body of researches is due to m. amagat, who undertook the study of a certain number of bodies, some liquid and some gaseous, extending the scope of his experiments so as to embrace the different phases of the phenomena and to compare together, not only the results relating to the same bodies, but also those concerning different bodies which happen to be in the same conditions of temperature and pressure, but in very different conditions as regards their critical points. from the experimental point of view, m. amagat has been able, with extreme skill, to conquer the most serious difficulties. he has managed to measure with precision pressures amounting to atmospheres, and also the very small volumes then occupied by the fluid mass under consideration. this last measurement, which necessitates numerous corrections, is the most delicate part of the operation. these researches have dealt with a certain number of different bodies. those relating to carbonic acid and ethylene take in the critical point. others, on hydrogen and nitrogen, for instance, are very extended. others, again, such as the study of the compressibility of water, have a special interest, on account of the peculiar properties of this substance. m. amagat, by a very concise discussion of the experiments, has also been able to definitely establish the laws of compressibility and dilatation of fluids under constant pressure, and to determine the value of the various coefficients as well as their variations. it ought to be possible to condense all these results into a single formula representing the volume, the temperature, and the pressure. rankin and, subsequently, recknagel, and then hirn, formerly proposed formulas of that kind; but the most famous, the one which first appeared to contain in a satisfactory manner all the facts which experiments brought to light and led to the production of many others, was the celebrated equation of van der waals. professor van der waals arrived at this relation by relying upon considerations derived from the kinetic theory of gases. if we keep to the simple idea at the bottom of this theory, we at once demonstrate that the gas ought to obey the laws of mariotte and of gay-lussac, so that the characteristic equation would be obtained by the statement that the product of the number which is the measure of the volume by that which is the measure of the pressure is equal to a constant coefficient multiplied by the degree of the absolute temperature. but to get at this result we neglect two important factors. we do not take into account, in fact, the attraction which the molecules must exercise on each other. now, this attraction, which is never absolutely non-existent, may become considerable when the molecules are drawn closer together; that is to say, when the compressed gaseous mass occupies a more and more restricted volume. on the other hand, we assimilate the molecules, as a first approximation, to material points without dimensions; in the evaluation of the path traversed by each molecule no notice is taken of the fact that, at the moment of the shock, their centres of gravity are still separated by a distance equal to twice the radius of the molecule. m. van der waals has sought out the modifications which must be introduced into the simple characteristic equation to bring it nearer to reality. he extends to the case of gases the considerations by which laplace, in his famous theory of capillarity, reduced the effect of the molecular attraction to a perpendicular pressure exercised on the surface of a liquid. this leads him to add to the external pressure, that due to the reciprocal attractions of the gaseous particles. on the other hand, when we attribute finite dimensions to these particles, we must give a higher value to the number of shocks produced in a given time, since the effect of these dimensions is to diminish the mean path they traverse in the time which elapses between two consecutive shocks. the calculation thus pursued leads to our adding to the pressure in the simple equation a term which is designated the internal pressure, and which is the quotient of a constant by the square of the volume; also to our deducting from the volume a constant which is the quadruple of the total and invariable volume which the gaseous molecules would occupy did they touch one another. the experiments fit in fairly well with the formula of van der waals, but considerable discrepancies occur when we extend its limits, particularly when the pressures throughout a rather wider interval are considered; so that other and rather more complex formulas, on which there is no advantage in dwelling, have been proposed, and, in certain cases, better represent the facts. but the most remarkable result of m. van der waals' calculations is the discovery of corresponding states. for a long time physicists spoke of bodies taken in a comparable state. dalton, for example, pointed out that liquids have vapour-pressures equal to the temperatures equally distant from their boiling-point; but that if, in this particular property, liquids were comparable under these conditions of temperature, as regards other properties the parallelism was no longer to be verified. no general rule was found until m. van der waals first enunciated a primary law, viz., that if the pressure, the volume, and the temperature are estimated by taking as units the critical quantities, the constants special to each body disappear in the characteristic equation, which thus becomes the same for all fluids. the words corresponding states thus take a perfectly precise signification. corresponding states are those for which the numerical values of the pressure, volume, and temperature, expressed by taking as units the values corresponding to the critical point, are equal; and, in corresponding states any two fluids have exactly the same properties. m. natanson, and subsequently p. curie and m. meslin, have shown by various considerations that the same result may be arrived at by choosing units which correspond to any corresponding states; it has also been shown that the theorem of corresponding states in no way implies the exactitude of van der waals' formula. in reality, this is simply due to the fact that the characteristic equation only contains three constants. the philosophical importance and the practical interest of the discovery nevertheless remain considerable. as was to be expected, numbers of experimenters have sought whether these consequences are duly verified in reality. m. amagat, particularly, has made use for this purpose of a most original and simple method. he remarks that, in all its generality, the law may be translated thus: if the isothermal diagrams of two substances be drawn to the same scale, taking as unit of volume and of pressure the values of the critical constants, the two diagrams should coincide; that is to say, their superposition should present the aspect of one diagram appertaining to a single substance. further, if we possess the diagrams of two bodies drawn to any scales and referable to any units whatever, as the changes of units mean changes in the scale of the axes, we ought to make one of the diagrams similar to the other by lengthening or shortening it in the direction of one of the axes. m. amagat then photographs two isothermal diagrams, leaving one fixed, but arranging the other so that it may be free to turn round each axis of the co-ordinates; and by projecting, by means of a magic lantern, the second on the first, he arrives in certain cases at an almost complete coincidence. this mechanical means of proof thus dispenses with laborious calculations, but its sensibility is unequally distributed over the different regions of the diagram. m. raveau has pointed out an equally simple way of verifying the law, by remarking that if the logarithms of the pressure and volume are taken as co-ordinates, the co-ordinates of two corresponding points differ by two constant quantities, and the corresponding curves are identical. from these comparisons, and from other important researches, among which should be particularly mentioned those of mr s. young and m. mathias, it results that the laws of corresponding states have not, unfortunately, the degree of generality which we at first attributed to them, but that they are satisfactory when applied to certain groups of bodies.[ ] [footnote : mr preston thus puts it: "the law [of corresponding states] seems to be not quite, but very nearly true for these substances [_i.e._ the halogen derivatives of benzene]; but in the case of the other substances examined, the majority of these generalizations were either only roughly true or altogether departed from" (_theory of heat_, london, , p. .)--ed.] if in the study of the statics of a simple fluid the experimental results are already complex, we ought to expect much greater difficulties when we come to deal with mixtures; still the problem has been approached, and many points are already cleared up. mixed fluids may first of all be regarded as composed of a large number of invariable particles. in this particularly simple case m. van der waals has established a characteristic equation of the mixtures which is founded on mechanical considerations. various verifications of this formula have been effected, and it has, in particular, been the object of very important remarks by m. daniel berthelot. it is interesting to note that thermodynamics seems powerless to determine this equation, for it does not trouble itself about the nature of the bodies obedient to its laws; but, on the other hand, it intervenes to determine the properties of coexisting phases. if we examine the conditions of equilibrium of a mixture which is not subjected to external forces, it will be demonstrated that the distribution must come back to a juxtaposition of homogeneous phases; in a given volume, matter ought so to arrange itself that the total sum of free energy has a minimum value. thus, in order to elucidate all questions relating to the number and qualities of the phases into which the substance divides itself, we are led to regard the geometrical surface which for a given temperature represents the free energy. i am unable to enter here into the detail of the questions connected with the theories of gibbs, which have been the object of numerous theoretical studies, and also of a series, ever more and more abundant, of experimental researches. m. duhem, in particular, has published, on the subject, memoirs of the highest importance, and a great number of experimenters, mostly scholars working in the physical laboratory of leyden under the guidance of the director, mr kamerlingh onnes, have endeavoured to verify the anticipations of the theory. we are a little less advanced as regards abnormal substances; that is to say, those composed of molecules, partly simple and partly complex, and either dissociated or associated. these cases must naturally be governed by very complex laws. recent researches by mm. van der waals, alexeif, rothmund, künen, lehfeld, etc., throw, however, some light on the question. the daily more numerous applications of the laws of corresponding states have rendered highly important the determination of the critical constants which permit these states to be defined. in the case of homogeneous bodies the critical elements have a simple, clear, and precise sense; the critical temperature is that of the single isothermal line which presents a point of inflexion at a horizontal tangent; the critical pressure and the critical volume are the two co-ordinates of this point of inflexion. the three critical constants may be determined, as mr s. young and m. amagat have shown, by a direct method based on the consideration of the saturated states. results, perhaps more precise, may also be obtained if one keeps to two constants or even to a single one-- temperature, for example--by employing various special methods. many others, mm. cailletet and colardeau, m. young, m.j. chappuis, etc., have proceeded thus. the case of mixtures is much more complicated. a binary mixture has a critical space instead of a critical point. this space is comprised between two extreme temperatures, the lower corresponding to what is called the folding point, the higher to that which we call the point of contact of the mixture. between these two temperatures an isothermal compression yields a quantity of liquid which increases, then reaches a maximum, diminishes, and disappears. this is the phenomenon of retrograde condensation. we may say that the properties of the critical point of a homogeneous substance are, in a way, divided, when it is a question of a binary mixture, between the two points mentioned. calculation has enabled m. van der waals, by the application of his kinetic theories, and m. duhem, by means of thermodynamics, to foresee most of the results which have since been verified by experiment. all these facts have been admirably set forth and systematically co-ordinated by m. mathias, who, by his own researches, moreover, has made contributions of the highest value to the study of questions regarding the continuity of the liquid and gaseous states. the further knowledge of critical elements has allowed the laws of corresponding states to be more closely examined in the case of homogeneous substances. it has shown that, as i have already said, bodies must be arranged in groups, and this fact clearly proves that the properties of a given fluid are not determined by its critical constants alone, and that it is necessary to add to them some other specific parameters; m. mathias and m. d. berthelot have indicated some which seem to play a considerable part. it results also from this that the characteristic equation of a fluid cannot yet be considered perfectly known. neither the equation of van der waals nor the more complicated formulas which have been proposed by various authors are in perfect conformity with reality. we may think that researches of this kind will only be successful if attention is concentrated, not only on the phenomena of compressibility and dilatation, but also on the calorimetric properties of bodies. thermodynamics indeed establishes relations between those properties and other constants, but does not allow everything to be foreseen. several physicists have effected very interesting calorimetric measurements, either, like m. perot, in order to verify clapeyron's formula regarding the heat of vaporization, or to ascertain the values of specific heats and their variations when the temperature or the pressure happens to change. m. mathias has even succeeded in completely determining the specific heats of liquefied gases and of their saturated vapours, as well as the heat of internal and external vaporization. § . the liquefaction of gases, and the properties of bodies at a low temperature the scientific advantages of all these researches have been great, and, as nearly always happens, the practical consequences derived from them have also been most important. it is owing to the more complete knowledge of the general properties of fluids that immense progress has been made these last few years in the methods of liquefying gases. from a theoretical point of view the new processes of liquefaction can be classed in two categories. linde's machine and those resembling it utilize, as is known, expansion without any notable production of external work. this expansion, nevertheless, causes a fall in the temperature, because the gas in the experiment is not a perfect gas, and, by an ingenious process, the refrigerations produced are made cumulative. several physicists have proposed to employ a method whereby liquefaction should be obtained by expansion with recuperable external work. this method, proposed as long ago as by siemens, would offer considerable advantages. theoretically, the liquefaction would be more rapid, and obtained much more economically; but unfortunately in the experiment serious obstacles are met with, especially from the difficulty of obtaining a suitable lubricant under intense cold for those parts of the machine which have to be in movement if the apparatus is to work. m. claude has recently made great progress on this point by the use, during the running of the machine, of the ether of petrol, which is uncongealable, and a good lubricant for the moving parts. when once the desired region of cold is reached, air itself is used, which moistens the metals but does not completely avoid friction; so that the results would have remained only middling, had not this ingenious physicist devised a new improvement which has some analogy with superheating of steam in steam engines. he slightly varies the initial temperature of the compressed air on the verge of liquefaction so as to avoid a zone of deep perturbations in the properties of fluids, which would make the work of expansion very feeble and the cold produced consequently slight. this improvement, simple as it is in appearance, presents several other advantages which immediately treble the output. the special object of m. claude was to obtain oxygen in a practical manner by the actual distillation of liquid air. since nitrogen boils at - ° and oxygen at - . ° c., if liquid air be evaporated, the nitrogen escapes, especially at the commencement of the evaporation, while the oxygen concentrates in the residual liquid, which finally consists of pure oxygen, while at the same time the temperature rises to the boiling-point (- . ° c.) of oxygen. but liquid air is costly, and if one were content to evaporate it for the purpose of collecting a part of the oxygen in the residuum, the process would have a very poor result from the commercial point of view. as early as , mr parkinson thought of improving the output by recovering the cold produced by liquid air during its evaporation; but an incorrect idea, which seems to have resulted from certain experiments of dewar--the idea that the phenomenon of the liquefaction of air would not be, owing to certain peculiarities, the exact converse of that of vaporization--led to the employment of very imperfect apparatus. m. claude, however, by making use of a method which he calls the reversal[ ] method, obtains a complete rectification in a remarkably simple manner and under extremely advantageous economic conditions. apparatus, of surprisingly reduced dimensions but of great efficiency, is now in daily work, which easily enables more than a thousand cubic metres of oxygen to be obtained at the rate, per horse-power, of more than a cubic metre per hour. [footnote : methode avec retour en arriere.--ed] it is in england, thanks to the skill of sir james dewar and his pupils--thanks also, it must be said, to the generosity of the royal institution, which has devoted considerable sums to these costly experiments--that the most numerous and systematic researches have been effected on the production of intense cold. i shall here note only the more important results, especially those relating to the properties of bodies at low temperatures. their electrical properties, in particular, undergo some interesting modifications. the order which metals assume in point of conductivity is no longer the same as at ordinary temperatures. thus at - ° c. copper is a better conductor than silver. the resistance diminishes with the temperature, and, down to about - °, this diminution is almost linear, and it would seem that the resistance tends towards zero when the temperature approaches the absolute zero. but, after - °, the pattern of the curves changes, and it is easy to foresee that at absolute zero the resistivities of all metals would still have, contrary to what was formerly supposed, a notable value. solidified electrolytes which, at temperatures far below their fusion point, still retain a very appreciable conductivity, become, on the contrary, perfect insulators at low temperatures. their dielectric constants assume relatively high values. mm. curie and compan, who have studied this question from their own point of view, have noted, moreover, that the specific inductive capacity changes considerably with the temperature. in the same way, magnetic properties have been studied. a very interesting result is that found in oxygen: the magnetic susceptibility of this body increases at the moment of liquefaction. nevertheless, this increase, which is enormous (since the susceptibility becomes sixteen hundred times greater than it was at first), if we take it in connection with equal volumes, is much less considerable if taken in equal masses. it must be concluded from this fact that the magnetic properties apparently do not belong to the molecules themselves, but depend on their state of aggregation. the mechanical properties of bodies also undergo important modifications. in general, their cohesion is greatly increased, and the dilatation produced by slight changes of temperature is considerable. sir james dewar has effected careful measurements of the dilatation of certain bodies at low temperatures: for example, of ice. changes in colour occur, and vermilion and iodide of mercury pass into pale orange. phosphorescence becomes more intense, and most bodies of complex structure--milk, eggs, feathers, cotton, and flowers--become phosphorescent. the same is the case with certain simple bodies, such as oxygen, which is transformed into ozone and emits a white light in the process. chemical affinity is almost put an end to; phosphorus and potassium remain inert in liquid oxygen. it should, however, be noted, and this remark has doubtless some interest for the theories of photographic action, that photographic substances retain, even at the temperature of liquid hydrogen, a very considerable part of their sensitiveness to light. sir james dewar has made some important applications of low temperatures in chemical analysis; he also utilizes them to create a vacuum. his researches have, in fact, proved that the pressure of air congealed by liquid hydrogen cannot exceed the millionth of an atmosphere. we have, then, in this process, an original and rapid means of creating an excellent vacuum in apparatus of very different kinds--a means which, in certain cases, may be particularly convenient.[ ] [footnote : professor soddy, in a paper read before the royal society on the th november , warns experimenters against vacua created by charcoal cooled in liquid air (the method referred-to in the text), unless as much of the air as possible is first removed with a pump and replaced by some argon-free gas. according to him, neither helium nor argon is absorbed by charcoal. by the use of electrically-heated calcium, he claims to have produced an almost perfect vacuum.--ed.] thanks to these studies, a considerable field has been opened up for biological research, but in this, which is not our subject, i shall notice one point only. it has been proved that vital germs--bacteria, for example--may be kept for seven days at - °c. without their vitality being modified. phosphorescent organisms cease, it is true, to shine at the temperature of liquid air, but this fact is simply due to the oxidations and other chemical reactions which keep up the phosphorescence being then suspended, for phosphorescent activity reappears so soon as the temperature is again sufficiently raised. an important conclusion has been drawn from these experiments which affects cosmogonical theories: since the cold of space could not kill the germs of life, it is in no way absurd to suppose that, under proper conditions, a germ may be transmitted from one planet to another. among the discoveries made with the new processes, the one which most strikingly interested public attention is that of new gases in the atmosphere. we know how sir william ramsay and dr. travers first observed by means of the spectroscope the characteristics of the _companions_ of argon in the least volatile part of the atmosphere. sir james dewar on the one hand, and sir william ramsay on the other, subsequently separated in addition to argon and helium, crypton, xenon, and neon. the process employed consists essentially in first solidifying the least volatile part of the air and then causing it to evaporate with extreme slowness. a tube with electrodes enables the spectrum of the gas in process of distillation to be observed. in this manner, the spectra of the various gases may be seen following one another in the inverse order of their volatility. all these gases are monoatomic, like mercury; that is to say, they are in the most simple state, they possess no internal molecular energy (unless it is that which heat is capable of supplying), and they even seem to have no chemical energy. everything leads to the belief that they show the existence on the earth of an earlier state of things now vanished. it may be supposed, for instance, that helium and neon, of which the molecular mass is very slight, were formerly more abundant on our planet; but at an epoch when the temperature of the globe was higher, the very speed of their molecules may have reached a considerable value, exceeding, for instance, eleven kilometres per second, which suffices to explain why they should have left our atmosphere. crypton and neon, which have a density four times greater than oxygen, may, on the contrary, have partly disappeared by solution at the bottom of the sea, where it is not absurd to suppose that considerable quantities would be found liquefied at great depths.[ ] [footnote : another view, viz. that these inert gases are a kind of waste product of radioactive changes, is also gaining ground. the discovery of the radioactive mineral malacone, which gives off both helium and argon, goes to support this. see messrs ketchin and winterson's paper on the subject at the chemical society, th october .--ed.] it is probable, moreover, that the higher regions of the atmosphere are not composed of the same air as that around us. sir james dewar points out that dalton's law demands that every gas composing the atmosphere should have, at all heights and temperatures, the same pressure as if it were alone, the pressure decreasing the less quickly, all things being equal, as its density becomes less. it results from this that the temperature becoming gradually lower as we rise in the atmosphere, at a certain altitude there can no longer remain any traces of oxygen or nitrogen, which no doubt liquefy, and the atmosphere must be almost exclusively composed of the most volatile gases, including hydrogen, which m.a. gautier has, like lord rayleigh and sir william ramsay, proved to exist in the air. the spectrum of the _aurora borealis_, in which are found the lines of those parts of the atmosphere which cannot be liquefied in liquid hydrogen, together with the lines of argon, crypton, and xenon, is quite in conformity with this point of view. it is, however, singular that it should be the spectrum of crypton, that is to say, of the heaviest gas of the group, which appears most clearly in the upper regions of the atmosphere. among the gases most difficult to liquefy, hydrogen has been the object of particular research and of really quantitative experiments. its properties in a liquid state are now very clearly known. its boiling-point, measured with a helium thermometer which has been compared with thermometers of oxygen and hydrogen, is - °; its critical temperature is - ° c.; its critical pressure, atmospheres. it is four times lighter than water, it does not present any absorption spectrum, and its specific heat is the greatest known. it is not a conductor of electricity. solidified at ° absolute, it is far from reminding one by its aspect of a metal; it rather resembles a piece of perfectly pure ice, and dr travers attributes to it a crystalline structure. the last gas which has resisted liquefaction, helium, has recently been obtained in a liquid state; it appears to have its boiling-point in the neighbourhood of ° absolute.[ ] [footnote : m. poincaré is here in error. helium has never been liquefied.--ed.] § . solids and liquids the interest of the results to which the researches on the continuity between the liquid and the gaseous states have led is so great, that numbers of scholars have naturally been induced to inquire whether something analogous might not be found in the case of liquids and solids. we might think that a similar continuity ought to be there met with, that the universal character of the properties of matter forbade all real discontinuity between two different states, and that, in truth, the solid was a prolongation of the liquid state. to discover whether this supposition is correct, it concerns us to compare the properties of liquids and solids. if we find that all properties are common to the two states we have the right to believe, even if they presented themselves in different degrees, that, by a continuous series of intermediary bodies, the two classes might yet be connected. if, on the other hand, we discover that there exists in these two classes some quality of a different nature, we must necessarily conclude that there is a discontinuity which nothing can remove. the distinction established, from the point of view of daily custom, between solids and liquids, proceeds especially from the difficulty that we meet with in the one case, and the facility in the other, when we wish to change their form temporarily or permanently by the action of mechanical force. this distinction only corresponds, however, in reality, to a difference in the value of certain coefficients. it is impossible to discover by this means any absolute characteristic which establishes a separation between the two classes. modern researches prove this clearly. it is not without use, in order to well understand them, to state precisely the meaning of a few terms generally rather loosely employed. if a conjunction of forces acting on a homogeneous material mass happens to deform it without compressing or dilating it, two very distinct kinds of reactions may appear which oppose themselves to the effort exercised. during the time of deformation, and during that time only, the first make their influence felt. they depend essentially on the greater or less rapidity of the deformation, they cease with the movement, and could not, in any case, bring the body back to its pristine state of equilibrium. the existence of these reactions leads us to the idea of viscosity or internal friction. the second kind of reactions are of a different nature. they continue to act when the deformation remains stationary, and, if the external forces happen to disappear, they are capable of causing the body to return to its initial form, provided a certain limit has not been exceeded. these last constitute rigidity. at first sight a solid body appears to have a finite rigidity and an infinite viscosity; a liquid, on the contrary, presents a certain viscosity, but no rigidity. but if we examine the matter more closely, beginning either with the solids or with the liquids, we see this distinction vanish. tresca showed long ago that internal friction is not infinite in a solid; certain bodies can, so to speak, at once flow and be moulded. m.w. spring has given many examples of such phenomena. on the other hand, viscosity in liquids is never non-existent; for were it so for water, for example, in the celebrated experiment effected by joule for the determination of the mechanical equivalent of the caloric, the liquid borne along by the floats would slide without friction on the surrounding liquid, and the work done by movement would be the same whether the floats did or did not plunge into the liquid mass. in certain cases observed long ago with what are called pasty bodies, this viscosity attains a value almost comparable to that observed by m. spring in some solids. nor does rigidity allow us to establish a barrier between the two states. notwithstanding the extreme mobility of their particles, liquids contain, in fact, vestiges of the property which we formerly wished to consider the special characteristic of solids. maxwell before succeeded in rendering the existence of this rigidity very probable by examining the optical properties of a deformed layer of liquid. but a russian physicist, m. schwedoff, has gone further, and has been able by direct experiments to show that a sheath of liquid set between two solid cylinders tends, when one of the cylinders is subjected to a slight rotation, to return to its original position, and gives a measurable torsion to a thread upholding the cylinder. from the knowledge of this torsion the rigidity can be deduced. in the case of a solution containing / per cent. of gelatine, it is found that this rigidity, enormous compared with that of water, is still, however, one trillion eight hundred and forty billion times less than that of steel. this figure, exact within a few billions, proves that the rigidity is very slight, but exists; and that suffices for a characteristic distinction to be founded on this property. in a general way, m. spring has also established that we meet in solids, in a degree more or less marked, with the properties of liquids. when they are placed in suitable conditions of pressure and time, they flow through orifices, transmit pressure in all directions, diffuse and dissolve one into the other, and react chemically on each other. they may be soldered together by compression; by the same means alloys may be produced; and further, which seems to clearly prove that matter in a solid state is not deprived of all molecular mobility, it is possible to realise suitable limited reactions and equilibria between solid salts, and these equilibria obey the fundamental laws of thermodynamics. thus the definition of a solid cannot be drawn from its mechanical properties. it cannot be said, after what we have just seen, that solid bodies retain their form, nor that they have a limited elasticity, for m. spring has made known a case where the elasticity of solids is without any limit. it was thought that in the case of a different phenomenon--that of crystallization--we might arrive at a clear distinction, because here we should he dealing with a specific quality; and that crystallized bodies would be the true solids, amorphous bodies being at that time regarded as liquids viscous in the extreme. but the studies of a german physicist, professor o. lehmann, seem to prove that even this means is not infallible. professor lehmann has succeeded, in fact, in obtaining with certain organic compounds-- oleate of potassium, for instance--under certain conditions some peculiar states to which he has given the name of semi-fluid and liquid crystals. these singular phenomena can only be observed and studied by means of a microscope, and the carlsruhe professor had to devise an ingenious apparatus which enabled him to bring the preparation at the required temperature on to the very plate of the microscope. it is thus made evident that these bodies act on polarized light in the manner of a crystal. those that m. lehmann terms semi-liquid still present traces of polyhedric delimitation, but with the peaks and angles rounded by surface-tension, while the others tend to a strictly spherical form. the optical examination of the first-named bodies is very difficult, because appearances may be produced which are due to the phenomena of refraction and imitate those of polarization. for the other kind, which are often as mobile as water, the fact that they polarize light is absolutely unquestionable. unfortunately, all these liquids are turbid, and it may be objected that they are not homogeneous. this want of homogeneity may, according to m. quincke, be due to the existence of particles suspended in a liquid in contact with another liquid miscible with it and enveloping it as might a membrane, and the phenomena of polarization would thus be quite naturally explained.[ ] [footnote : professor quincke's last hypothesis is that all liquids on solidifying pass through a stage intermediate between solid and liquid, in which they form what he calls "foam-cells," and assume a viscous structure resembling that of jelly. see _proc. roy. soc. a._, rd july .--ed.] m. tamman is of opinion that it is more a question of an emulsion, and, on this hypothesis, the action on light would actually be that which has been observed. various experimenters have endeavoured of recent years to elucidate this question. it cannot be considered absolutely settled, but these very curious experiments, pursued with great patience and remarkable ingenuity, allow us to think that there really exist certain intermediary forms between crystals and liquids in which bodies still retain a peculiar structure, and consequently act on light, but nevertheless possess considerable plasticity. let us note that the question of the continuity of the liquid and solid states is not quite the same as the question of knowing whether there exist bodies intermediate in all respects between the solids and liquids. these two problems are often wrongly confused. the gap between the two classes of bodies may be filled by certain substances with intermediate properties, such as pasty bodies and bodies liquid but still crystallized, because they have not yet completely lost their peculiar structure. yet the transition is not necessarily established in a continuous fashion when we are dealing with the passage of one and the same determinate substance from the liquid to the solid form. we conceive that this change may take place by insensible degrees in the case of an amorphous body. but it seems hardly possible to consider the case of a crystal, in which molecular movements must be essentially regular, as a natural sequence to the case of the liquid where we are, on the contrary, in presence of an extremely disordered state of movement. m. tamman has demonstrated that amorphous solids may very well, in fact, be regarded as superposed liquids endowed with very great viscosity. but it is no longer the same thing when the solid is once in the crystallized state. there is then a solution of continuity of the various properties of the substance, and the two phases may co-exist. we might presume also, by analogy with what happens with liquids and gases, that if we followed the curve of transformation of the crystalline into the liquid phase, we might arrive at a kind of critical point at which the discontinuity of their properties would vanish. professor poynting, and after him professor planck and professor ostwald, supposed this to be the case, but more recently m. tamman has shown that such a point does not exist, and that the region of stability of the crystallized state is limited on all sides. all along the curve of transformation the two states may exist in equilibrium, but we may assert that it is impossible to realize a continuous series of intermediaries between these two states. there will always be a more or less marked discontinuity in some of the properties. in the course of his researches m. tamman has been led to certain very important observations, and has met with fresh allotropic modifications in nearly all substances, which singularly complicate the question. in the case of water, for instance, he finds that ordinary ice transforms itself, under a given pressure, at the temperature of - ° c. into another crystalline variety which is denser than water. the statics of solids under high pressure is as yet, therefore, hardly drafted, but it seems to promise results which will not be identical with those obtained for the statics of fluids, though it will present at least an equal interest. § . the deformations of solids if the mechanical properties of the bodies intermediate between solids and liquids have only lately been the object of systematic studies, admittedly solid substances have been studied for a long time. yet, notwithstanding the abundance of researches published on elasticity by theorists and experimenters, numerous questions with regard to them still remain in suspense. we only propose to briefly indicate here a few problems recently examined, without going into the details of questions which belong more to the domain of mechanics than to that of pure physics. the deformations produced in solid bodies by increasing efforts arrange themselves in two distinct periods. if the efforts are weak, the deformations produced are also very weak and disappear when the effort ceases. they are then termed elastic. if the efforts exceed a certain value, a part only of these deformations disappear, and a part are permanent. the purity of the note emitted by a sound has been often invoked as a proof of the perfect isochronism of the oscillation, and, consequently, as a demonstration _a posteriori_ of the correctness of the early law of hoocke governing elastic deformations. this law has, however, during some years been frequently disputed. certain mechanicians or physicists freely admit it to be incorrect, especially as regards extremely weak deformations. according to a theory in some favour, especially in germany, i.e. the theory of bach, the law which connects the elastic deformations with the efforts would be an exponential one. recent experiments by professors kohlrausch and gruncisen, executed under varied and precise conditions on brass, cast iron, slate, and wrought iron, do not appear to confirm bach's law. nothing, in point of fact, authorises the rejection of the law of hoocke, which presents itself as the most natural and most simple approximation to reality. the phenomena of permanent deformation are very complex, and it certainly seems that they cannot be explained by the older theories which insisted that the molecules only acted along the straight line which joined their centres. it becomes necessary, then, to construct more complete hypotheses, as the mm. cosserat have done in some excellent memoirs, and we may then succeed in grouping together the facts resulting from new experiments. among the experiments of which every theory must take account may be mentioned those by which colonel hartmann has placed in evidence the importance of the lines which are produced on the surface of metals when the limit of elasticity is exceeded. it is to questions of the same order that the minute and patient researches of m. bouasse have been directed. this physicist, as ingenious as he is profound, has pursued for several years experiments on the most delicate points relating to the theory of elasticity, and he has succeeded in defining with a precision not always attained even in the best esteemed works, the deformations to which a body must be subjected in order to obtain comparable experiments. with regard to the slight oscillations of torsion which he has specially studied, m. bouasse arrives at the conclusion, in an acute discussion, that we hardly know anything more than was proclaimed a hundred years ago by coulomb. we see, by this example, that admirable as is the progress accomplished in certain regions of physics, there still exist many over-neglected regions which remain in painful darkness. the skill shown by m. bouasse authorises us to hope that, thanks to his researches, a strong light will some day illumine these unknown corners. a particularly interesting chapter on elasticity is that relating to the study of crystals; and in the last few years it has been the object of remarkable researches on the part of m. voigt. these researches have permitted a few controversial questions between theorists and experimenters to be solved: in particular, m. voigt has verified the consequences of the calculations, taking care not to make, like cauchy and poisson, the hypothesis of central forces a mere function of distance, and has recognized a potential which depends on the relative orientation of the molecules. these considerations also apply to quasi-isotropic bodies which are, in fact, networks of crystals. certain occasional deformations which are produced and disappear slowly may be considered as intermediate between elastic and permanent deformations. of these, the thermal deformation of glass which manifests itself by the displacement of the zero of a thermometer is an example. so also the modifications which the phenomena of magnetic hysteresis or the variations of resistivity have just demonstrated. many theorists have taken in hand these difficult questions. m. brillouin endeavours to interpret these various phenomena by the molecular hypothesis. the attempt may seem bold, since these phenomena are, for the most part, essentially irreversible, and seem, consequently, not adaptable to mechanics. but m. brillouin makes a point of showing that, under certain conditions, irreversible phenomena may be created between two material points, the actions of which depend solely on their distance; and he furnishes striking instances which appear to prove that a great number of irreversible physical and chemical phenomena may be ascribed to the existence of states of unstable equilibria. m. duhem has approached the problem from another side, and endeavours to bring it within the range of thermodynamics. yet ordinary thermodynamics could not account for experimentally realizable states of equilibrium in the phenomena of viscosity and friction, since this science declares them to be impossible. m. duhem, however, arrives at the idea that the establishment of the equations of thermodynamics presupposes, among other hypotheses, one which is entirely arbitrary, namely: that when the state of the system is given, external actions capable of maintaining it in that state are determined without ambiguity, by equations termed conditions of equilibrium of the system. if we reject this hypothesis, it will then be allowable to introduce into thermodynamics laws previously excluded, and it will be possible to construct, as m. duhem has done, a much more comprehensive theory. the ideas of m. duhem have been illustrated by remarkable experimental work. m. marchis, for example, guided by these ideas, has studied the permanent modifications produced in glass by an oscillation of temperature. these modifications, which may be called phenomena of the hysteresis of dilatation, may be followed in very appreciable fashion by means of a glass thermometer. the general results are quite in accord with the previsions of m. duhem. m. lenoble in researches on the traction of metallic wires, and m. chevalier in experiments on the permanent variations of the electrical resistance of wires of an alloy of platinum and silver when submitted to periodical variations of temperature, have likewise afforded verifications of the theory propounded by m. duhem. in this theory, the representative system is considered dependent on the temperature of one or several other variables, such as, for example, a chemical variable. a similar idea has been developed in a very fine set of memoirs on nickel steel, by m. ch. ed. guillaume. the eminent physicist, who, by his earlier researches, has greatly contributed to the light thrown on the analogous question of the displacement of the zero in thermometers, concludes, from fresh researches, that the residual phenomena are due to chemical variations, and that the return to the primary chemical state causes the variation to disappear. he applies his ideas not only to the phenomena presented by irreversible steels, but also to very different facts; for example, to phosphorescence, certain particularities of which may be interpreted in an analogous manner. nickel steels present the most curious properties, and i have already pointed out the paramount importance of one of them, hardly capable of perceptible dilatation, for its application to metrology and chronometry.[ ] others, also discovered by m. guillaume in the course of studies conducted with rare success and remarkable ingenuity, may render great services, because it is possible to regulate, so to speak, at will their mechanical or magnetic properties. [footnote : the metal known as "invar."--ed.] the study of alloys in general is, moreover, one of those in which the introduction of the methods of physics has produced the greatest effects. by the microscopic examination of a polished surface or of one indented by a reagent, by the determination of the electromotive force of elements of which an alloy forms one of the poles, and by the measurement of the resistivities, the densities, and the differences of potential or contact, the most valuable indications as to their constitution are obtained. m. le chatelier, m. charpy, m. dumas, m. osmond, in france; sir w. roberts austen and mr. stansfield, in england, have given manifold examples of the fertility of these methods. the question, moreover, has had a new light thrown upon it by the application of the principles of thermodynamics and of the phase rule. alloys are generally known in the two states of solid and liquid. fused alloys consist of one or several solutions of the component metals and of a certain number of definite combinations. their composition may thus be very complex: but gibbs' rule gives us at once important information on the point, since it indicates that there cannot exist, in general, more than two distinct solutions in an alloy of two metals. solid alloys may be classed like liquid ones. two metals or more dissolve one into the other, and form a solid solution quite analogous to the liquid solution. but the study of these solid solutions is rendered singularly difficult by the fact that the equilibrium so rapidly reached in the case of liquids in this case takes days and, in certain cases, perhaps even centuries to become established. chapter v solutions and electrolytic dissociation § . solution vaporization and fusion are not the only means by which the physical state of a body may be changed without modifying its chemical constitution. from the most remote periods solution has also been known and studied, but only in the last twenty years have we obtained other than empirical information regarding this phenomenon. it is natural to employ here also the methods which have allowed us to penetrate into the knowledge of other transformations. the problem of solution may be approached by way of thermodynamics and of the hypotheses of kinetics. as long ago as , kirchhoff, by attributing to saline solutions-- that is to say, to mixtures of water and a non-volatile liquid like sulphuric acid--the properties of internal energy, discovered a relation between the quantity of heat given out on the addition of a certain quantity of water to a solution and the variations to which condensation and temperature subject the vapour-tension of the solution. he calculated for this purpose the variations of energy which are produced when passing from one state to another by two different series of transformations; and, by comparing the two expressions thus obtained, he established a relation between the various elements of the phenomenon. but, for a long time afterwards, the question made little progress, because there seemed to be hardly any means of introducing into this study the second principle of thermodynamics.[ ] it was the memoir of gibbs which at last opened out this rich domain and enabled it to be rationally exploited. as early as , m. duhem showed that the theory of the thermodynamic potential furnished precise information on solutions or liquid mixtures. he thus discovered over again the famous law on the lowering of the congelation temperature of solvents which had just been established by m. raoult after a long series of now classic researches. [footnote : the "second principle" referred to has been thus enunciated: "in every engine that produces work there is a fall of temperature, and the maximum output of a perfect engine--_i.e._ the ratio between the heat consumed in work and the heat supplied--depends only on the extreme temperatures between which the fluid is evolved."--demanet, _notes de physique expérimentale_, louvain, , fasc. , p. . clausius put it in a negative form, as thus: no engine can of itself, without the aid of external agency, transfer heat from a body at low temperature to a body at a high temperature. cf. ganot's _physics_, th english edition, § .--ed.] in the minds of many persons, however, grave doubts persisted. solution appeared to be an essentially irreversible phenomenon. it was therefore, in all strictness, impossible to calculate the entropy of a solution, and consequently to be certain of the value of the thermodynamic potential. the objection would be serious even to-day, and, in calculations, what is called the paradox of gibbs would be an obstacle. we should not hesitate, however, to apply the phase law to solutions, and this law already gives us the key to a certain number of facts. it puts in evidence, for example, the part played by the eutectic point-- that is to say, the point at which (to keep to the simple case in which we have to do with two bodies only, the solvent and the solute) the solution is in equilibrium at once with the two possible solids, the dissolved body and the solvent solidified. the knowledge of this point explains the properties of refrigerating mixtures, and it is also one of the most useful for the theory of alloys. the scruples of physicists ought to have been removed on the memorable occasion when professor van t'hoff demonstrated that solution can operate reversibly by reason of the phenomena of osmosis. but the experiment can only succeed in very rare cases; and, on the other hand, professor van t'hoff was naturally led to another very bold conception. he regarded the molecule of the dissolved body as a gaseous one, and assimilated solution, not as had hitherto been the rule, to fusion, but to a kind of vaporization. naturally his ideas were not immediately accepted by the scholars most closely identified with the classic tradition. it may perhaps not be without use to examine here the principles of professor van t'hoff's theory. § . osmosis osmosis, or diffusion through a septum, is a phenomenon which has been known for some time. the discovery of it is attributed to the abbé nollet, who is supposed to have observed it in , during some "researches on liquids in ebullition." a classic experiment by dutrochet, effected about , makes this phenomenon clear. into pure water is plunged the lower part of a vertical tube containing pure alcohol, open at the top and closed at the bottom by a membrane, such as a pig's bladder, without any visible perforation. in a very short time it will be found, by means of an areometer for instance, that the water outside contains alcohol, while the alcohol of the tube, pure at first, is now diluted. two currents have therefore passed through the membrane, one of water from the outside to the inside, and one of alcohol in the converse direction. it is also noted that a difference in the levels has occurred, and that the liquid in the tube now rises to a considerable height. it must therefore be admitted that the flow of the water has been more rapid than that of the alcohol. at the commencement, the water must have penetrated into the tube much more rapidly than the alcohol left it. hence the difference in the levels, and, consequently, a difference of pressure on the two faces of the membrane. this difference goes on increasing, reaches a maximum, then diminishes, and vanishes when the diffusion is complete, final equilibrium being then attained. the phenomenon is evidently connected with diffusion. if water is very carefully poured on to alcohol, the two layers, separate at first, mingle by degrees till a homogeneous substance is obtained. the bladder seems not to have prevented this diffusion from taking place, but it seems to have shown itself more permeable to water than to alcohol. may it not therefore be supposed that there must exist dividing walls in which this difference of permeability becomes greater and greater, which would be permeable to the solvent and absolutely impermeable to the solute? if this be so, the phenomena of these _semi-permeable_ walls, as they are termed, can be observed in particularly simple conditions. the answer to this question has been furnished by biologists, at which we cannot be surprised. the phenomena of osmosis are naturally of the first importance in the action of organisms, and for a long time have attracted the attention of naturalists. de vries imagined that the contractions noticed in the protoplasm of cells placed in saline solutions were due to a phenomenon of osmosis, and, upon examining more closely certain peculiarities of cell life, various scholars have demonstrated that living cells are enclosed in membranes permeable to certain substances and entirely impermeable to others. it was interesting to try to reproduce artificially semi-permeable walls analogous to those thus met with in nature;[ ] and traube and pfeffer seem to have succeeded in one particular case. traube has pointed out that the very delicate membrane of ferrocyanide of potassium which is obtained with some difficulty by exposing it to the reaction of sulphate of copper, is permeable to water, but will not permit the passage of the majority of salts. pfeffer, by producing these walls in the interstices of a porous porcelain, has succeeded in giving them sufficient rigidity to allow measurements to be made. it must be allowed that, unfortunately, no physicist or chemist has been as lucky as these two botanists; and the attempts to reproduce semi-permeable walls completely answering to the definition, have never given but mediocre results. if, however, the experimental difficulty has not been overcome in an entirely satisfactory manner, it at least appears very probable that such walls may nevertheless exist.[ ] [footnote : see next note.--ed.] [footnote : m. stephane leduc, professor of biology of nantes, has made many experiments in this connection, and the artificial cells exhibited by him to the association française pour l'avancement des sciences, at their meeting at grenoble in and reproduced in their "actes," are particularly noteworthy.--ed.] nevertheless, in the case of gases, there exists an excellent example of a semi-permeable wall, and a partition of platinum brought to a higher than red heat is, as shown by m. villard in some ingenious experiments, completely impermeable to air, and very permeable, on the contrary, to hydrogen. it can also be experimentally demonstrated that on taking two recipients separated by such a partition, and both containing nitrogen mixed with varying proportions of hydrogen, the last-named gas will pass through the partition in such a way that the concentration--that is to say, the mass of gas per unit of volume-- will become the same on both sides. only then will equilibrium be established; and, at that moment, an excess of pressure will naturally be produced in that recipient which, at the commencement, contained the gas with the smallest quantity of hydrogen. this experiment enables us to anticipate what will happen in a liquid medium with semi-permeable partitions. between two recipients, one containing pure water, the other, say, water with sugar in solution, separated by one of these partitions, there will be produced merely a movement of the pure towards the sugared water, and following this, an increase of pressure on the side of the last. but this increase will not be without limits. at a certain moment the pressure will cease to increase and will remain at a fixed value which now has a given direction. this is the osmotic pressure. pfeffer demonstrated that, for the same substance, the osmotic pressure is proportional to the concentration, and consequently in inverse ratio to the volume occupied by a similar mass of the solute. he gave figures from which it was easy, as professor van t'hoff found, to draw the conclusion that, in a constant volume, the osmotic pressure is proportional to the absolute temperature. de vries, moreover, by his remarks on living cells, extended the results which pfeffer had applied to one case only--that is, to the one that he had been able to examine experimentally. such are the essential facts of osmosis. we may seek to interpret them and to thoroughly examine the mechanism of the phenomenon; but it must be acknowledged that as regards this point, physicists are not entirely in accord. in the opinion of professor nernst, the permeability of semi-permeable membranes is simply due to differences of solubility in one of the substances of the membrane itself. other physicists think it attributable, either to the difference in the dimensions of the molecules, of which some might pass through the pores of the membrane and others be stopped by their relative size, or to these molecules' greater or less mobility. for others, again, it is the capillary phenomena which here act a preponderating part. this last idea is already an old one: jager, more, and professor traube have all endeavoured to show that the direction and speed of osmosis are determined by differences in the surface-tensions; and recent experiments, especially those of batelli, seem to prove that osmosis establishes itself in the way which best equalizes the surface-tensions of the liquids on both sides of the partition. solutions possessing the same surface-tension, though not in molecular equilibrium, would thus be always in osmotic equilibrium. we must not conceal from ourselves that this result would be in contradiction with the kinetic theory. § . application to the theory of solution if there really exist partitions permeable to one body and impermeable to another, it may be imagined that the homogeneous mixture of these two bodies might be effected in the converse way. it can be easily conceived, in fact, that by the aid of osmotic pressure it would be possible, for example, to dilute or concentrate a solution by driving through the partition in one direction or another a certain quantity of the solvent by means of a pressure kept equal to the osmotic pressure. this is the important fact which professor van t' hoff perceived. the existence of such a wall in all possible cases evidently remains only a very legitimate hypothesis,--a fact which ought not to be concealed. relying solely on this postulate, professor van t' hoff easily established, by the most correct method, certain properties of the solutions of gases in a volatile liquid, or of non-volatile bodies in a volatile liquid. to state precisely the other relations, we must admit, in addition, the experimental laws discovered by pfeffer. but without any hypothesis it becomes possible to demonstrate the laws of raoult on the lowering of the vapour-tension and of the freezing point of solutions, and also the ratio which connects the heat of fusion with this decrease. these considerable results can evidently be invoked as _a posteriori_ proofs of the exactitude of the experimental laws of osmosis. they are not, however, the only ones that professor van t' hoff has obtained by the same method. this illustrious scholar was thus able to find anew guldberg and waage's law on chemical equilibrium at a constant temperature, and to show how the position of the equilibrium changes when the temperature happens to change. if now we state, in conformity with the laws of pfeffer, that the product of the osmotic pressure by the volume of the solution is equal to the absolute temperature multiplied by a coefficient, and then look for the numerical figure of this latter in a solution of sugar, for instance, we find that this value is the same as that of the analogous coefficient of the characteristic equation of a perfect gas. there is in this a coincidence which has also been utilized in the preceding thermodynamic calculations. it may be purely fortuitous, but we can hardly refrain from finding in it a physical meaning. professor van t'hoff has considered this coincidence a demonstration that there exists a strong analogy between a body in solution and a gas; as a matter of fact, it may seem that, in a solution, the distance between the molecules becomes comparable to the molecular distances met with in gases, and that the molecule acquires the same degree of liberty and the same simplicity in both phenomena. in that case it seems probable that solutions will be subject to laws independent of the chemical nature of the dissolved molecule and comparable to the laws governing gases, while if we adopt the kinetic image for the gas, we shall be led to represent to ourselves in a similar way the phenomena which manifest themselves in a solution. osmotic pressure will then appear to be due to the shock of the dissolved molecules against the membrane. it will come from one side of this partition to superpose itself on the hydrostatic pressure, which latter must have the same value on both sides. the analogy with a perfect gas naturally becomes much greater as the solution becomes more diluted. it then imitates gas in some other properties; the internal work of the variation of volume is nil, and the specific heat is only a function of the temperature. a solution which is diluted by a reversible method is cooled like a gas which expands adiabatically.[ ] [footnote : that is, without receiving or emitting any heat.--ed.] it must, however, be acknowledged that, in other points, the analogy is much less perfect. the opinion which sees in solution a phenomenon resembling fusion, and which has left an indelible trace in everyday language (we shall always say: to melt sugar in water) is certainly not without foundation. certain of the reasons which might be invoked to uphold this opinion are too evident to be repeated here, though others more recondite might be quoted. the fact that the internal energy generally becomes independent of the concentration when the dilution reaches even a moderately high value is rather in favour of the hypothesis of fusion. we must not forget, however, the continuity of the liquid and gaseous states; and we may consider it in an absolute way a question devoid of sense to ask whether in a solution the solute is in the liquid or the gaseous state. it is in the fluid state, and perhaps in conditions opposed to those of a body in the state of a perfect gas. it is known, of course, that in this case the manometrical pressure must be regarded as very great in relation to the internal pressure which, in the characteristic equation, is added to the other. may it not seem possible that in the solution it is, on the contrary, the internal pressure which is dominant, the manometric pressure becoming of no account? the coincidence of the formulas would thus be verified, for all the characteristic equations are symmetrical with regard to these two pressures. from this point of view the osmotic pressure would be considered as the result of an attraction between the solvent and the solute; and it would represent the difference between the internal pressures of the solution and of the pure solvent. these hypotheses are highly interesting, and very suggestive; but from the way in which the facts have been set forth, it will appear, no doubt, that there is no obligation to admit them in order to believe in the legitimacy of the application of thermodynamics to the phenomena of solution. § . electrolytic dissociation from the outset professor van t' hoff was brought to acknowledge that a great number of solutions formed very notable exceptions which were very irregular in appearance. the analogy with gases did not seem to be maintained, for the osmotic pressure had a very different value from that indicated by the theory. everything, however, came right if one multiplied by a factor, determined according to each case, but greater than unity, the constant of the characteristic formula. similar divergences were manifested in the delays observed in congelation, and disappeared when subjected to an analogous correction. thus the freezing-point of a normal solution, containing a molecule gramme (that is, the number of grammes equal to the figure representing the molecular mass) of alcohol or sugar in water, falls . ° c. if the laws of solution were identically the same for a solution of sea-salt, the same depression should be noticed in a saline solution also containing molecule per litre. in fact, the fall reaches . °, and the solution behaves as if it contained, not , but . normal molecules per litre. the consideration of the osmotic pressures would lead to similar observations, but we know that the experiment would be more difficult and less precise. we may wonder whether anything really analogous to this can be met with in the case of a gas, and we are thus led to consider the phenomena of dissociation.[ ] if we heat a body which, in a gaseous state, is capable of dissociation--hydriodic acid, for example--at a given temperature, an equilibrium is established between three gaseous bodies, the acid, the iodine, and the hydrogen. the total mass will follow with fair closeness mariotte's law, but the characteristic constant will no longer be the same as in the case of a non-dissociated gas. we here no longer have to do with a single molecule, since each molecule is in part dissociated. [footnote : dissociation must be distinguished from decomposition, which is what occurs when the whole of a particle (compound, molecule, atom, etc.) breaks up into its component parts. in dissociation the breaking up is only partial, and the resultant consists of a mixture of decomposed and undecomposed parts. see ganot's physics, th english edition, § , for examples.--ed.] the comparison of the two cases leads to the employment of a new image for representing the phenomenon which has been produced throughout the saline solution. we have introduced a single molecule of salt, and everything occurs as if there were . molecules. may it not really be said that the number is . , because the sea-salt is partly dissociated, and a molecule has become transformed into . molecule of sodium, . of chlorium, and . of salt? this is a way of speaking which seems, at first sight, strangely contradicted by experiment. professor van t' hoff, like other chemists, would certainly have rejected--in fact, he did so at first-- such a conception, if, about the same time, an illustrious swedish scholar, m. arrhenius, had not been brought to the same idea by another road, and, had not by stating it precisely and modifying it, presented it in an acceptable form. a brief examination will easily show that all the substances which are exceptions to the laws of van t'hoff are precisely those which are capable of conducting electricity when undergoing decomposition--that is to say, are electrolytes. the coincidence is absolute, and cannot be simply due to chance. now, the phenomena of electrolysis have, for a long time, forced upon us an almost necessary image. the saline molecule is always decomposed, as we know, in the primary phenomenon of electrolysis into two elements which faraday termed ions. secondary reactions, no doubt, often come to complicate the question, but these are chemical reactions belonging to the general order of things, and have nothing to do with the electric action working on the solution. the simple phenomenon is always the same--decomposition into two ions, followed by the appearance of one of these ions at the positive and of the other at the negative electrode. but as the very slightest expenditure of energy is sufficient to produce the commencement of electrolysis, it is necessary to suppose that these two ions are not united by any force. thus the two ions are, in a way, dissociated. clausius, who was the first to represent the phenomena by this symbol, supposed, in order not to shock the feelings of chemists too much, that this dissociation only affected an infinitesimal fraction of the total number of the molecules of the salt, and thereby escaped all check. this concession was unfortunate, and the hypothesis thus lost the greater part of its usefulness. m. arrhenius was bolder, and frankly recognized that dissociation occurs at once in the case of a great number of molecules, and tends to increase more and more as the solution becomes more dilute. it follows the comparison with a gas which, while partially dissociated in an enclosed space, becomes wholly so in an infinite one. m. arrhenius was led to adopt this hypothesis by the examination of experimental results relating to the conductivity of electrolytes. in order to interpret certain facts, it has to be recognized that a part only of the molecules in a saline solution can be considered as conductors of electricity, and that by adding water the number of molecular conductors is increased. this increase, too, though rapid at first, soon becomes slower, and approaches a certain limit which an infinite dilution would enable it to attain. if the conducting molecules are the dissociated molecules, then the dissociation (so long as it is a question of strong acids and salts) tends to become complete in the case of an unlimited dilution. the opposition of a large number of chemists and physicists to the ideas of m. arrhenius was at first very fierce. it must be noted with regret that, in france particularly, recourse was had to an arm which scholars often wield rather clumsily. they joked about these free ions in solution, and they asked to see this chlorine and this sodium which swam about the water in a state of liberty. but in science, as elsewhere, irony is not argument, and it soon had to be acknowledged that the hypothesis of m. arrhenius showed itself singularly fertile and had to be regarded, at all events, as a very expressive image, if not, indeed, entirely in conformity with reality. it would certainly be contrary to all experience, and even to common sense itself, to suppose that in dissolved chloride of sodium there is really free sodium, if we suppose these atoms of sodium to be absolutely identical with ordinary atoms. but there is a great difference. in the one case the atoms are electrified, and carry a relatively considerable positive charge, inseparable from their state as ions, while in the other they are in the neutral state. we may suppose that the presence of this charge brings about modifications as extensive as one pleases in the chemical properties of the atom. thus the hypothesis will be removed from all discussion of a chemical order, since it will have been made plastic enough beforehand to adapt itself to all the known facts; and if we object that sodium cannot subsist in water because it instantaneously decomposes the latter, the answer is simply that the sodium ion does not decompose water as does ordinary sodium. still, other objections might be raised which could not be so easily refuted. one, to which chemists not unreasonably attached great importance, was this:--if a certain quantity of chloride of sodium is dissociated into chlorine and sodium, it should be possible, by diffusion, for example, which brings out plainly the phenomena of dissociation in gases, to extract from the solution a part either of the chlorine or of the sodium, while the corresponding part of the other compound would remain. this result would be in flagrant contradiction with the fact that, everywhere and always, a solution of salt contains strictly the same proportions of its component elements. m. arrhenius answers to this that the electrical forces in ordinary conditions prevent separation by diffusion or by any other process. professor nernst goes further, and has shown that the concentration currents which are produced when two electrodes of the same substance are plunged into two unequally concentrated solutions may be interpreted by the hypothesis that, in these particular conditions, the diffusion does bring about a separation of the ions. thus the argument is turned round, and the proof supposed to be given of the incorrectness of the theory becomes a further reason in its favour. it is possible, no doubt, to adduce a few other experiments which are not very favourable to m. arrhenius's point of view, but they are isolated cases; and, on the whole, his theory has enabled many isolated facts, till then scattered, to be co-ordinated, and has allowed very varied phenomena to be linked together. it has also suggested--and, moreover, still daily suggests--researches of the highest order. in the first place, the theory of arrhenius explains electrolysis very simply. the ions which, so to speak, wander about haphazard, and are uniformly distributed throughout the liquid, steer a regular course as soon as we dip in the trough containing the electrolyte the two electrodes connected with the poles of the dynamo or generator of electricity. then the charged positive ions travel in the direction of the electromotive force and the negative ions in the opposite direction. on reaching the electrodes they yield up to them the charges they carry, and thus pass from the state of ion into that of ordinary atom. moreover, for the solution to remain in equilibrium, the vanished ions must be immediately replaced by others, and thus the state of ionisation of the electrolyte remains constant and its conductivity persists. all the peculiarities of electrolysis are capable of interpretation: the phenomena of the transport of ions, the fine experiments of m. bouty, those of professor kohlrausch and of professor ostwald on various points in electrolytic conduction, all support the theory. the verifications of it can even be quantitative, and we can foresee numerical relations between conductivity and other phenomena. the measurement of the conductivity permits the number of molecules dissociated in a given solution to be calculated, and the number is thus found to be precisely the same as that arrived at if it is wished to remove the disagreement between reality and the anticipations which result from the theory of professor van t' hoff. the laws of cryoscopy, of tonometry, and of osmosis thus again become strict, and no exception to them remains. if the dissociation of salts is a reality and is complete in a dilute solution, any of the properties of a saline solution whatever should be represented numerically as the sum of three values, of which one concerns the positive ion, a second the negative ion, and the third the solvent. the properties of the solutions would then be what are called additive properties. numerous verifications may be attempted by very different roads. they generally succeed very well; and whether we measure the electric conductivity, the density, the specific heats, the index of refraction, the power of rotatory polarization, the colour, or the absorption spectrum, the additive property will everywhere be found in the solution. the hypothesis, so contested at the outset by the chemists, is, moreover, assuring its triumph by important conquests in the domain of chemistry itself. it permits us to give a vivid explanation of chemical reaction, and for the old motto of the chemists, "corpora non agunt, nisi soluta," it substitutes a modern one, "it is especially the ions which react." thus, for example, all salts of iron, which contain iron in the state of ions, give similar reactions; but salts such as ferrocyanide of potassium, in which iron does not play the part of an ion, never give the characteristic reactions of iron. professor ostwald and his pupils have drawn from the hypothesis of arrhenius manifold consequences which have been the cause of considerable progress in physical chemistry. professor ostwald has shown, in particular, how this hypothesis permits the quantitative calculation of the conditions of equilibrium of electrolytes and solutions, and especially of the phenomena of neutralization. if a dissolved salt is partly dissociated into ions, this solution must be limited by an equilibrium between the non-dissociated molecule and the two ions resulting from the dissociation; and, assimilating the phenomenon to the case of gases, we may take for its study the laws of gibbs and of guldberg and waage. the results are generally very satisfactory, and new researches daily furnish new checks. professor nernst, who before gave, as has been said, a remarkable interpretation of the diffusion of electrolytes, has, in the direction pointed out by m. arrhenius, developed a theory of the entire phenomena of electrolysis, which, in particular, furnishes a striking explanation of the mechanism of the production of electromotive force in galvanic batteries. extending the analogy, already so happily invoked, between the phenomena met with in solutions and those produced in gases, professor nernst supposes that metals tend, as it were, to vaporize when in presence of a liquid. a piece of zinc introduced, for example, into pure water gives birth to a few metallic ions. these ions become positively charged, while the metal naturally takes an equal charge, but of contrary sign. thus the solution and the metal are both electrified; but this sort of vaporization is hindered by electrostatic attraction, and as the charges borne by the ions are considerable, an equilibrium will be established, although the number of ions which enter the solution will be very small. if the liquid, instead of being a solvent like pure water, contains an electrolyte, it already contains metallic ions, the osmotic pressure of which will be opposite to that of the solution. three cases may then present themselves--either there will be equilibrium, or the electrostatic attraction will oppose itself to the pressure of solution and the metal will be negatively charged, or, finally, the attraction will act in the same direction as the pressure, and the metal will become positively and the solution negatively charged. developing this idea, professor nernst calculates, by means of the action of the osmotic pressures, the variations of energy brought into play and the value of the differences of potential by the contact of the electrodes and electrolytes. he deduces this from the electromotive force of a single battery cell which becomes thus connected with the values of the osmotic pressures, or, if you will, thanks to the relation discovered by van t' hoff, with the concentrations. some particularly interesting electrical phenomena thus become connected with an already very important group, and a new bridge is built which unites two regions long considered foreign to each other. the recent discoveries on the phenomena produced in gases when rendered conductors of electricity almost force upon us, as we shall see, the idea that there exist in these gases electrified centres moving through the field, and this idea gives still greater probability to the analogous theory explaining the mechanism of the conductivity of liquids. it will also be useful, in order to avoid confusion, to restate with precision this notion of electrolytic ions, and to ascertain their magnitude, charge, and velocity. the two classic laws of faraday will supply us with important information. the first indicates that the quantity of electricity passing through the liquid is proportional to the quantity of matter deposited on the electrodes. this leads us at once to the consideration that, in any given solution, all the ions possess individual charges equal in absolute value. the second law may be stated in these terms: an atom-gramme of metal carries with it into electrolysis a quantity of electricity proportionate to its valency.[ ] [footnote : the valency or atomicity of an element may be defined as the power it possesses of entering into compounds in a certain fixed proportion. as hydrogen is generally taken as the standard, in practice the valency of an atom is the number of hydrogen atoms it will combine with or replace. thus chlorine and the rest of the halogens, the atoms of which combine with one atom of hydrogen, are called univalent, oxygen a bivalent element, and so on.--ed.] numerous experiments have made known the total mass of hydrogen capable of carrying one coulomb, and it will therefore be possible to estimate the charge of an ion of hydrogen if the number of atoms of hydrogen in a given mass be known. this last figure is already furnished by considerations derived from the kinetic theory, and agrees with the one which can be deduced from the study of various phenomena. the result is that an ion of hydrogen having a mass of . x ^{- } grammes bears a charge of . x ^{- } electromagnetic units; and the second law will immediately enable the charge of any other ion to be similarly estimated. the measurements of conductivity, joined to certain considerations relating to the differences of concentration which appear round the electrode in electrolysis, allow the speed of the ions to be calculated. thus, in a liquid containing / th of a hydrogen-ion per litre, the absolute speed of an ion would be / ths of a millimetre per second in a field where the fall of potential would be volt per centimetre. sir oliver lodge, who has made direct experiments to measure this speed, has obtained a figure very approximate to this. this value is very small compared to that which we shall meet with in gases. another consequence of the laws of faraday, to which, as early as , helmholtz drew attention, may be considered as the starting-point of certain new doctrines we shall come across later. helmholtz says: "if we accept the hypothesis that simple bodies are composed of atoms, we are obliged to admit that, in the same way, electricity, whether positive or negative, is composed of elementary parts which behave like atoms of electricity." the second law seems, in fact, analogous to the law of multiple proportions in chemistry, and it shows us that the quantities of electricity carried vary from the simple to the double or treble, according as it is a question of a uni-, bi-, or trivalent metal; and as the chemical law leads up to the conception of the material atom, so does the electrolytic law suggest the idea of an electric atom. chapter vi the ether § . the luminiferous ether it is in the works of descartes that we find the first idea of attributing those physical phenomena which the properties of matter fail to explain to some subtle matter which is the receptacle of the energy of the universe. in our times this idea has had extraordinary luck. after having been eclipsed for two hundred years by the success of the immortal synthesis of newton, it gained an entirely new splendour with fresnel and his followers. thanks to their admirable discoveries, the first stage seemed accomplished, the laws of optics were represented by a single hypothesis, marvellously fitted to allow us to anticipate unknown phenomena, and all these anticipations were subsequently fully verified by experiment. but the researches of faraday, maxwell, and hertz authorized still greater ambitions; and it really seemed that this medium, to which it was agreed to give the ancient name of ether, and which had already explained light and radiant heat, would also be sufficient to explain electricity. thus the hope began to take form that we might succeed in demonstrating the unity of all physical forces. it was thought that the knowledge of the laws relating to the inmost movements of this ether might give us the key to all phenomena, and might make us acquainted with the method in which energy is stored up, transmitted, and parcelled out in its external manifestations. we cannot study here all the problems which are connected with the physics of the ether. to do this a complete treatise on optics would have to be written and a very lengthy one on electricity. i shall simply endeavour to show rapidly how in the last few years the ideas relative to the constitution of this ether have evolved, and we shall see if it be possible without self-delusion to imagine that a single medium can really allow us to group all the known facts in one comprehensive arrangement. as constructed by fresnel, the hypothesis of the luminous ether, which had so great a struggle at the outset to overcome the stubborn resistance of the partisans of the then classic theory of emission, seemed, on the contrary, to possess in the sequel an unshakable strength. lamé, though a prudent mathematician, wrote: "_the existence_ of the ethereal fluid is _incontestably demonstrated_ by the propagation of light through the planetary spaces, and by the explanation, so simple and so complete, of the phenomena of diffraction in the wave theory of light"; and he adds: "the laws of double refraction prove with no less certainty that the _ether exists_ in all diaphanous media." thus the ether was no longer an hypothesis, but in some sort a tangible reality. but the ethereal fluid of which the existence was thus proclaimed has some singular properties. were it only a question of explaining rectilinear propagation, reflexion, refraction, diffraction, and interferences notwithstanding grave difficulties at the outset and the objections formulated by laplace and poisson (some of which, though treated somewhat lightly at the present day, have not lost all value), we should be under no obligation to make any hypothesis other than that of the undulations of an elastic medium, without deciding in advance anything as to the nature and direction of the vibrations. this medium would, naturally--since it exists in what we call the void--be considered as imponderable. it may be compared to a fluid of negligible mass--since it offers no appreciable resistance to the motion of the planets--but is endowed with an enormous elasticity, because the velocity of the propagation of light is considerable. it must be capable of penetrating into all transparent bodies, and of retaining there, so to speak, a constant elasticity, but must there become condensed, since the speed of propagation in these bodies is less than in a vacuum. such properties belong to no material gas, even the most rarefied, but they admit of no essential contradiction, and that is the important point.[ ] [footnote : since this was written, however, men of science have become less unanimous than they formerly were on this point. the veteran chemist professor mendeléeff has given reasons for thinking that the ether is an inert gas with an atomic weight a million times less than that of hydrogen, and a velocity of kilometres per second (_principles of chemistry_, eng. ed., , vol. ii. p. ). on the other hand, the well-known physicist dr a.h. bucherer, speaking at the naturforscherversammlung, held at stuttgart in , declared his disbelief in the existence of the ether, which he thought could not be reconciled at once with the maxwellian theory and the known facts.--ed.] it was the study of the phenomena of polarization which led fresnel to his bold conception of transverse vibrations, and subsequently induced him to penetrate further into the constitution of the ether. we know the experiment of arago on the noninterference of polarized rays in rectangular planes. while two systems of waves, proceeding from the same source of natural light and propagating themselves in nearly parallel directions, increase or become destroyed according to whether the nature of the superposed waves are of the same or of contrary signs, the waves of the rays polarized in perpendicular planes, on the other hand, can never interfere with each other. whatever the difference of their course, the intensity of the light is always the sum of the intensity of the two rays. fresnel perceived that this experiment absolutely compels us to reject the hypothesis of longitudinal vibrations acting along the line of propagation in the direction of the rays. to explain it, it must of necessity be admitted, on the contrary, that the vibrations are transverse and perpendicular to the ray. verdet could say, in all truth, "it is not possible to deny the transverse direction of luminous vibrations, without at the same time denying that light consists of an undulatory movement." such vibrations do not and cannot exist in any medium resembling a fluid. the characteristic of a fluid is that its different parts can displace themselves with regard to one another without any reaction appearing so long as a variation of volume is not produced. there certainly may exist, as we have seen, certain traces of rigidity in a liquid, but we cannot conceive such a thing in a body infinitely more subtle than rarefied gas. among material bodies, a solid alone really possesses the rigidity sufficient for the production within it of transverse vibrations and for their maintenance during their propagation. since we have to attribute such a property to the ether, we may add that on this point it resembles a solid, and lord kelvin has shown that this solid, would be much more rigid than steel. this conclusion produces great surprise in all who hear it for the first time, and it is not rare to hear it appealed to as an argument against the actual existence of the ether. it does not seem, however, that such an argument can be decisive. there is no reason for supposing that the ether ought to be a sort of extension of the bodies we are accustomed to handle. its properties may astonish our ordinary way of thinking, but this rather unscientific astonishment is not a reason for doubting its existence. real difficulties would appear only if we were led to attribute to the ether, not singular properties which are seldom found united in the same substance, but properties logically contradictory. in short, however odd such a medium may appear to us, it cannot be said that there is any absolute incompatibility between its attributes. it would even be possible, if we wished, to suggest images capable of representing these contrary appearances. various authors have done so. thus, m. boussinesq assumes that the ether behaves like a very rarefied gas in respect of the celestial bodies, because these last move, while bathed in it, in all directions and relatively slowly, while they permit it to retain, so to speak, its perfect homogeneity. on the other hand, its own undulations are so rapid that so far as they are concerned the conditions become very different, and its fluidity has, one might say, no longer the time to come in. hence its rigidity alone appears. another consequence, very important in principle, of the fact that vibrations of light are transverse, has been well put in evidence by fresnel. he showed how we have, in order to understand the action which excites without condensation the sliding of successive layers of the ether during the propagation of a vibration, to consider the vibrating medium as being composed of molecules separated by finite distances. certain authors, it is true, have proposed theories in which the action at a distance of these molecules are replaced by actions of contact between parallelepipeds sliding over one another; but, at bottom, these two points of view both lead us to conceive the ether as a discontinuous medium, like matter itself. the ideas gathered from the most recent experiments also bring us to the same conclusion. § . radiations in the ether thus constituted there are therefore propagated transverse vibrations, regarding which all experiments in optics furnish very precise information. the amplitude of these vibrations is exceedingly small, even in relation to the wave-length, small as these last are. if, in fact, the amplitude of the vibrations acquired a noticeable value in comparison with the wave-length, the speed of propagation should increase with the amplitude. yet, in spite of some curious experiments which seem to establish that the speed of light does alter a little with its intensity, we have reason to believe that, as regards light, the amplitude of the oscillations in relation to the wave-length is incomparably less than in the case of sound. it has become the custom to characterise each vibration by the path which the vibratory movement traverses during the space of a vibration--by the length of wave, in a word--rather than by the duration of the vibration itself. to measure wave-lengths, the methods must be employed to which i have already alluded on the subject of measurements of length. professor michelson, on the one hand, and mm. perot and fabry, on the other, have devised exceedingly ingenious processes, which have led to results of really unhoped-for precision. the very exact knowledge also of the speed of the propagation of light allows the duration of a vibration to be calculated when once the wave-length is known. it is thus found that, in the case of visible light, the number of the vibrations from the end of the violet to the infra-red varies from four hundred to two hundred billions per second. this gamut is not, however, the only one the ether can give. for a long time we have known ultra-violet radiations still more rapid, and, on the other hand, infra-red ones more slow, while in the last few years the field of known radiations has been singularly extended in both directions. it is to m. rubens and his fellow-workers that are due the most brilliant conquests in the matter of great wave-lengths. he had remarked that, in their study, the difficulty of research proceeds from the fact that the extreme waves of the infra-red spectrum only contain a small part of the total energy emitted by an incandescent body; so that if, for the purpose of study, they are further dispersed by a prism or a grating, the intensity at any one point becomes so slight as to be no longer observable. his original idea was to obtain, without prism or grating, a homogeneous pencil of great wave-length sufficiently intense to be examined. for this purpose the radiant source used was a strip of platinum covered with fluorine or powdered quartz, which emits numerous radiations close to two bands of linear absorption in the absorption spectra of fluorine and quartz, one of which is situated in the infra-red. the radiations thus emitted are several times reflected on fluorine or on quartz, as the case may be; and as, in proximity to the bands, the absorption is of the order of that of metallic bodies for luminous rays, we no longer meet in the pencil several times reflected or in the rays _remaining_ after this kind of filtration, with any but radiations of great wave-length. thus, for instance, in the case of the quartz, in the neighbourhood of a radiation corresponding to a wave-length of . microns, the absorption is thirty times greater in the region of the band than in the neighbouring region, and consequently, after three reflexions, while the corresponding radiations will not have been weakened, the neighbouring waves will be so, on the contrary, in the proportion of to , . with mirrors of rock salt and of sylvine[ ] there have been obtained, by taking an incandescent gas light (auer) as source, radiations extending as far as microns; and these last are the greatest wave-lengths observed in optical phenomena. these radiations are largely absorbed by the vapour of water, and it is no doubt owing to this absorption that they are not found in the solar spectrum. on the other hand, they easily pass through gutta-percha, india-rubber, and insulating substances in general. [footnote : a natural chlorate of potassium, generally of volcanic origin.--ed.] at the opposite end of the spectrum the knowledge of the ultra-violet regions has been greatly extended by the researches of lenard. these extremely rapid radiations have been shown by that eminent physicist to occur in the light of the electric sparks which flash between two metal points, and which are produced by a large induction coil with condenser and a wehnelt break. professor schumann has succeeded in photographing them by depositing bromide of silver directly on glass plates without fixing it with gelatine; and he has, by the same process, photographed in the spectrum of hydrogen a ray with a wave-length of only . micron. the spectroscope was formed entirely of fluor-spar, and a vacuum had been created in it, for these radiations are extremely absorbable by the air. notwithstanding the extreme smallness of the luminous wave-lengths, it has been possible, after numerous fruitless trials, to obtain stationary waves analogous to those which, in the case of sound, are produced in organ pipes. the marvellous application m. lippmann has made of these waves to completely solve the problem of photography in colours is well known. this discovery, so important in itself and so instructive, since it shows us how the most delicate anticipations of theory may be verified in all their consequences, and lead the physicist to the solution of the problems occurring in practice, has justly become popular, and there is, therefore, no need to describe it here in detail. professor wiener obtained stationary waves some little while before m. lippmann's discovery, in a layer of a sensitive substance having a grain sufficiently small in relation to the length of wave. his aim was to solve a question of great importance to a complete knowledge of the ether. fresnel founded his theory of double refraction and reflexion by transparent surfaces, on the hypothesis that the vibration of a ray of polarized light is perpendicular to the plane of polarization. but neumann has proposed, on the contrary, a theory in which he recognizes that the luminous vibration is in this very plane. he rather supposes, in opposition to fresnel's idea, that the density of the ether remains the same in all media, while its coefficient of elasticity is variable. very remarkable experiments on dispersion by m. carvallo prove indeed that the idea of fresnel was, if not necessary for us to adopt, at least the more probable of the two; but apart from this indication, and contrary to the hypothesis of neumann, the two theories, from the point of view of the explanation of all known facts, really appear to be equivalent. are we then in presence of two mechanical explanations, different indeed, but nevertheless both adaptable to all the facts, and between which it will always be impossible to make a choice? or, on the contrary, shall we succeed in realising an _experimentum crucis_, an experiment at the point where the two theories cross, which will definitely settle the question? professor wiener thought he could draw from his experiment a firm conclusion on the point in dispute. he produced stationary waves with light polarized at an angle of °,[ ] and established that, when light is polarized in the plane of incidence, the fringes persist; but that, on the other hand, they disappear when the light is polarized perpendicularly to this plane. if it be admitted that a photographic impression results from the active force of the vibratory movement of the ether, the question is, in fact, completely elucidated, and the discrepancy is abolished in fresnel's favour. [footnote : that is to say, he reflected the beam of polarized light by a mirror placed at that angle. see turpain, _leçons élementaires de physique_, t. ii. p. , for details of the experiment.--ed.] m.h. poincaré has pointed out, however, that we know nothing as to the mechanism of the photographic impression. we cannot consider it evident that it is the kinetic energy of the ether which produces the decomposition of the sensitive salt; and if, on the contrary, we suppose it to be due to the potential energy, all the conclusions are reversed, and neumann's idea triumphs. recently a very clever physicist, m. cotton, especially known for his skilful researches in the domain of optics, has taken up anew the study of stationary waves. he has made very precise quantitative experiments, and has demonstrated, in his turn, that it is impossible, even with spherical waves, to succeed in determining on which of the two vectors which have to be regarded in all theories of light on the subject of polarization phenomena the luminous intensity and the chemical action really depend. this question, therefore, no longer exists for those physicists who admit that luminous vibrations are electrical oscillations. whatever, then, the hypothesis formed, whether it be electric force or, on the contrary, magnetic force which we place in the plane of polarization, the mode of propagation foreseen will always be in accord with the facts observed. § . the electromagnetic ether the idea of attributing the phenomena of electricity to perturbations produced in the medium which transmits the light is already of old standing; and the physicists who witnessed the triumph of fresnel's theories could not fail to conceive that this fluid, which fills the whole of space and penetrates into all bodies, might also play a preponderant part in electrical actions. some even formed too hasty hypotheses on this point; for the hour had not arrived when it was possible to place them on a sufficiently sound basis, and the known facts were not numerous enough to give the necessary precision. the founders of modern electricity also thought it wiser to adopt, with regard to this science, the attitude taken by newton in connection with gravitation: "in the first place to observe facts, to vary the circumstances of these as much as possible, to accompany this first work by precise measurements in order to deduce from them general laws founded solely on experiment, and to deduce from these laws, independently of all hypotheses on the nature of the forces producing the phenomena, the mathematical value of these forces--that is to say, the formula representing them. such was the system pursued by newton. it has, in general, been adopted in france by the scholars to whom physics owe the great progress made of late years, and it has served as my guide in all my researches on electrodynamic phenomena.... it is for this reason that i have avoided speaking of the ideas i may have on the nature of the cause of the force emanating from voltaic conductors." thus did ampère express himself. the illustrious physicist rightly considered the results obtained by him through following this wise method as worthy of comparison with the laws of attraction; but he knew that when this first halting-place was reached there was still further to go, and that the evolution of ideas must necessarily continue. "with whatever physical cause," he adds, "we may wish to connect the phenomena produced by electro-dynamic action, the formula i have obtained will always remain the expression of the facts," and he explicitly indicated that if one could succeed in deducing his formula from the consideration of the vibrations of a fluid distributed through space, an enormous step would have been taken in this department of physics. he added, however, that this research appeared to him premature, and would change nothing in the results of his work, since, to accord with facts, the hypothesis adopted would always have to agree with the formula which exactly represents them. it is not devoid of interest to observe that ampère himself, notwithstanding his caution, really formed some hypotheses, and recognized that electrical phenomena were governed by the laws of mechanics. yet the principles of newton then appeared to be unshakable. faraday was the first to demonstrate, by clear experiment, the influence of the media in electricity and magnetic phenomena, and he attributed this influence to certain modifications in the ether which these media enclose. his fundamental conception was to reject action at a distance, and to localize in the ether the energy whose evolution is the cause of the actions manifested, as, for example, in the discharge of a condenser. consider the barrel of a pump placed in a vacuum and closed by a piston at each end, and let us introduce between these a certain mass of air. the two pistons, through the elastic force of the gas, repel each other with a force which, according to the law of mariotte, varies in inverse ratio to the distance. the method favoured by ampère would first of all allow this law of repulsion between the two pistons to be discovered, even if the existence of a gas enclosed in the barrel of the pump were unsuspected; and it would then be natural to localize the potential energy of the system on the surface of the two pistons. but if the phenomenon is more carefully examined, we shall discover the presence of the air, and we shall understand that every part of the volume of this air could, if it were drawn off into a recipient of equal volume, carry away with it a fraction of the energy of the system, and that consequently this energy belongs really to the air and not to the pistons, which are there solely for the purpose of enabling this energy to manifest its existence. faraday made, in some sort, an equivalent discovery when he perceived that the electrical energy belongs, not to the coatings of the condenser, but to the dielectric which separates them. his audacious views revealed to him a new world, but to explore this world a surer and more patient method was needed. maxwell succeeded in stating with precision certain points of faraday's ideas, and he gave them the mathematical form which, often wrongly, impresses physicists, but which when it exactly encloses a theory, is a certain proof that this theory is at least coherent and logical.[ ] [footnote : it will no doubt be a shock to those whom professor henry armstrong has lately called the "mathematically-minded" to find a member of the poincaré family speaking disrespectfully of the science they have done so much to illustrate. one may perhaps compare the expression in the text with m. henri poincaré's remark in his last allocution to the académie des sciences, that "mathematics are sometimes a nuisance, and even a danger, when they induce us to affirm more than we know" (_comptes-rendus_, th december ).] the work of maxwell is over-elaborated, complex, difficult to read, and often ill-understood, even at the present day. maxwell is more concerned in discovering whether it is possible to give an explanation of electrical and magnetic phenomena which shall be founded on the mechanical properties of a single medium, than in stating this explanation in precise terms. he is aware that if we could succeed in constructing such an interpretation, it would be easy to propose an infinity of others, entirely equivalent from the point of view of the experimentally verifiable consequences; and his especial ambition is therefore to extract from the premises a general view, and to place in evidence something which would remain the common property of all the theories. he succeeded in showing that if the electrostatic energy of an electromagnetic field be considered to represent potential energy, and its electrodynamic the kinetic energy, it becomes possible to satisfy both the principle of least action and that of the conservation of energy; from that moment--if we eliminate a few difficulties which exist regarding the stability of the solutions--the possibility of finding mechanical explanations of electromagnetic phenomena must be considered as demonstrated. he thus succeeded, moreover, in stating precisely the notion of two electric and magnetic fields which are produced in all points of space, and which are strictly inter-connected, since the variation of the one immediately and compulsorily gives birth to the other. from this hypothesis he deduced that, in the medium where this energy is localized, an electromagnetic wave is propagated with a velocity equal to the relation of the units of electric mass in the electromagnetic and electrostatic systems. now, experiments made known since his time have proved that this relation is numerically equal to the speed of light, and the more precise experiments made in consequence--among which should be cited the particularly careful ones of m. max abraham--have only rendered the coincidence still more complete. it is natural henceforth to suppose that this medium is identical with the luminous ether, and that a luminous wave is an electromagnetic wave--that is to say, a succession of alternating currents, which exist in the dielectric and even in the void, and possess an enormous frequency, inasmuch as they change their direction thousands of billions of times per second, and by reason of this frequency produce considerable induction effects. maxwell did not admit the existence of open currents. to his mind, therefore, an electrical vibration could not produce condensations of electricity. it was, in consequence, necessarily transverse, and thus coincided with the vibration of fresnel; while the corresponding magnetic vibration was perpendicular to it, and would coincide with the luminous vibration of neumann. maxwell's theory thus establishes a close correlation between the phenomena of the luminous and those of the electromagnetic waves, or, we might even say, the complete identity of the two. but it does not follow from this that we ought to regard the variation of an electric field produced at some one point as necessarily consisting of a real displacement of the ether round that point. the idea of thus bringing electrical phenomena back to the mechanics of the ether is not, then, forced upon us, and the contrary idea even seems more probable. it is not the optics of fresnel which absorbs the science of electricity, it is rather the optics which is swallowed up by a more general theory. the attempts of popularizers who endeavour to represent, in all their details, the mechanism of the electric phenomena, thus appear vain enough, and even puerile. it is useless to find out to what material body the ether may be compared, if we content ourselves with seeing in it a medium of which, at every point, two vectors define the properties. for a long time, therefore, we could remark that the theory of fresnel simply supposed a medium in which something periodical was propagated, without its being necessary to admit this something to be a movement; but we had to wait not only for maxwell, but also for hertz, before this idea assumed a really scientific shape. hertz insisted on the fact that the six equations of the electric field permit all the phenomena to be anticipated without its being necessary to construct one hypothesis or another, and he put these equations into a very symmetrical form, which brings completely in evidence the perfect reciprocity between electrical and magnetic actions. he did yet more, for he brought to the ideas of maxwell the most striking confirmation by his memorable researches on electric oscillations. § . electrical oscillations the experiments of hertz are well known. we know how the bonn physicist developed, by means of oscillating electric discharges, displacement currents and induction effects in the whole of the space round the spark-gap; and how he excited by induction at some point in a wire a perturbation which afterwards is propagated along the wire, and how a resonator enabled him to detect the effect produced. the most important point made evident by the observation of interference phenomena and subsequently verified directly by m. blondlot, is that the electromagnetic perturbation is propagated with the speed of light, and this result condemns for ever all the hypotheses which fail to attribute any part to the intervening media in the propagation of an induction phenomenon. if the inducing action were, in fact, to operate directly between the inducing and the induced circuits, the propagation should be instantaneous; for if an interval were to occur between the moment when the cause acted and the one when the effect was produced, during this interval there would no longer be anything anywhere, since the intervening medium does not come into play, and the phenomenon would then disappear. leaving on one side the manifold but purely electrical consequences of this and the numerous researches relating to the production or to the properties of the waves--some of which, those of mm. sarrazin and de la rive, righi, turpain, lebedeff, decombe, barbillon, drude, gutton, lamotte, lecher, etc., are, however, of the highest order--i shall only mention here the studies more particularly directed to the establishment of the identity of the electromagnetic and the luminous waves. the only differences which subsist are necessarily those due to the considerable discrepancy which exists between the durations of the periods of these two categories of waves. the length of wave corresponding to the first spark-gap of hertz was about metres, and the longest waves perceptible by the retina are / of a micron.[ ] [footnote : see footnote .] these radiations are so far apart that it is not astonishing that their properties have not a perfect similitude. thus phenomena like those of diffraction, which are negligible in the ordinary conditions under which light is observed, may here assume a preponderating importance. to play the part, for example, with the hertzian waves, which a mirror millimetre square plays with regard to light, would require a colossal mirror which would attain the size of a myriametre[ ] square. [footnote : i.e., , metres.--ed.] the efforts of physicists have to-day, however, filled up, in great part, this interval, and from both banks at once they have laboured to build a bridge between the two domains. we have seen how rubens showed us calorific rays metres long; on the other hand, mm. lecher, bose, and lampa have succeeded, one after the other, in gradually obtaining oscillations with shorter and shorter periods. there have been produced, and are now being studied, electromagnetic waves of four millimetres; and the gap subsisting in the spectrum between the rays left undetected by sylvine and the radiations of m. lampa now hardly comprise more than five octaves--that is to say, an interval perceptibly equal to that which separates the rays observed by m. rubens from the last which are evident to the eye. the analogy then becomes quite close, and in the remaining rays the properties, so to speak, characteristic of the hertzian waves, begin to appear. for these waves, as we have seen, the most transparent bodies are the most perfect electrical insulators; while bodies still slightly conducting are entirely opaque. the index of refraction of these substances tends in the case of great wave-lengths to become, as the theory anticipates, nearly the square root of the dielectric constant. mm. rubens and nichols have even produced with the waves which remain phenomena of electric resonance quite similar to those which an italian scholar, m. garbasso, obtained with electric waves. this physicist showed that, if the electric waves are made to impinge on a flat wooden stand, on which are a series of resonators parallel to each other and uniformly arranged, these waves are hardly reflected save in the case where the resonators have the same period as the spark-gap. if the remaining rays are allowed to fall on a glass plate silvered and divided by a diamond fixed on a dividing machine into small rectangles of equal dimensions, there will be observed variations in the reflecting power according to the orientation of the rectangles, under conditions entirely comparable with the experiment of garbasso. in order that the phenomenon be produced it is necessary that the remaining waves should be previously polarized. this is because, in fact, the mechanism employed to produce the electric oscillations evidently gives out vibrations which occur on a single plane and are subsequently polarized. we cannot therefore entirely assimilate a radiation proceeding from a spark-gap to a ray of natural light. for the synthesis of light to be realized, still other conditions must be complied with. during a luminous impression, the direction and the phase change millions of times in the vibration sensible to the retina, yet the damping of this vibration is very slow. with the hertzian oscillations all these conditions are changed--the damping is very rapid but the direction remains invariable. every time, however, that we deal with general phenomena which are independent of these special conditions, the parallelism is perfect; and with the waves, we have put in evidence the reflexion, refraction, total reflexion, double reflexion, rotatory polarization, dispersion, and the ordinary interferences produced by rays travelling in the same direction and crossing each other at a very acute angle, or the interferences analogous to those which wiener observed with rays of the contrary direction. a very important consequence of the electromagnetic theory foreseen by maxwell is that the luminous waves which fall on a surface must exercise on this surface a pressure equal to the radiant energy which exists in the unit of volume of the surrounding space. m. lebedeff a few years ago allowed a sheaf of rays from an arc lamp to fall on a deflection radiometer,[ ] and thus succeeded in revealing the existence of this pressure. its value is sufficient, in the case of matter of little density and finely divided, to reduce and even change into repulsion the attractive action exercised on bodies by the sun. this is a fact formerly conjectured by faye, and must certainly play a great part in the deformation of the heads of comets. [footnote : by this m. poincaré appears to mean a radiometer in which the vanes are not entirely free to move as in the radiometer of crookes but are suspended by one or two threads as in the instrument devised by professor poynting.--ed.] more recently, mm. nichols and hull have undertaken experiments on this point. they have measured not only the pressure, but also the energy of the radiation by means of a special bolometer. they have thus arrived at numerical verifications which are entirely in conformity with the calculations of maxwell. the existence of these pressures may be otherwise foreseen even apart from the electromagnetic theory, by adding to the theory of undulations the principles of thermodynamics. bartoli, and more recently dr larmor, have shown, in fact, that if these pressures did not exist, it would be possible, without any other phenomenon, to pass heat from a cold into a warm body, and thus transgress the principle of carnot. § . the x rays it appears to-day quite probable that the x rays should be classed among the phenomena which have their seat in the luminous ether. doubtless it is not necessary to recall here how, in december , röntgen, having wrapped in black paper a crookes tube in action, observed that a fluorescent platinocyanide of barium screen placed in the neighbourhood, had become visible in the dark, and that a photographic plate had received an impress. the rays which come from the tube, in conditions now well known, are not deviated by a magnet, and, as m. curie and m. sagnac have conclusively shown, they carry no electric charge. they are subject to neither reflection nor refraction, and very precise and very ingenious measurements by m. gouy have shown that, in their case, the refraction index of the various bodies cannot be more than a millionth removed from unity. we knew from the outset that there existed various x rays differing from each other as, for instance, the colours of the spectrum, and these are distinguished from each other by their unequal power of passing through substances. m. sagnac, particularly, has shown that there can be obtained a gradually decreasing scale of more or less absorbable rays, so that the greater part of their photographic action is stopped by a simple sheet of black paper. these rays figure among the secondary rays discovered, as is known, by this ingenious physicist. the x rays falling on matter are thus subjected to transformations which may be compared to those which the phenomena of luminescence produce on the ultra-violet rays. m. benoist has founded on the transparency of matter to the rays a sure and practical method of allowing them to be distinguished, and has thus been enabled to define a specific character analogous to the colour of the rays of light. it is probable also that the different rays do not transport individually the same quantity of energy. we have not yet obtained on this point precise results, but it is roughly known, since the experiments of mm. rutherford and m'clung, what quantity of energy corresponds to a pencil of x rays. these physicists have found that this quantity would be, on an average, five hundred times larger than that brought by an analogous pencil of solar light to the surface of the earth. what is the nature of this energy? the question does not appear to have been yet solved. it certainly appears, according to professors haga and wind and to professor sommerfeld, that with the x rays curious experiments of diffraction may be produced. dr barkla has shown also that they can manifest true polarization. the secondary rays emitted by a metallic surface when struck by x rays vary, in fact, in intensity when the position of the plane of incidence round the primary pencil is changed. various physicists have endeavoured to measure the speed of propagation, but it seems more and more probable that it is very nearly that of light.[ ] [footnote : see especially the experiments of professor e. marx (vienna), _annalen der physik_, vol. xx. (no. of ), pp. _et seq._, which seem conclusive on this point.--ed.] i must here leave out the description of a crowd of other experiments. some very interesting researches by m. brunhes, m. broca, m. colardeau, m. villard, in france, and by many others abroad, have permitted the elucidation of several interesting problems relative to the duration of the emission or to the best disposition to be adopted for the production of the rays. the only point which will detain us is the important question as to the nature of the x rays themselves; the properties which have just been brought to mind are those which appear essential and which every theory must reckon with. the most natural hypothesis would be to consider the rays as ultra-violet radiations of very short wave-length, or radiations which are in a manner ultra-ultra-violet. this interpretation can still, at this present moment, be maintained, and the researches of mm. buisson, righi, lenard, and merrit stewart have even established that rays of very short wave-lengths produce on metallic conductors, from the point of view of electrical phenomena, effects quite analogous to those of the x rays. another resemblance results also from the experiments by which m. perreau established that these rays act on the electric resistance of selenium. new and valuable arguments have thus added force to those who incline towards a theory which has the merit of bringing a new phenomenon within the pale of phenomena previously known. nevertheless the shortest ultra-violet radiations, such as those of m. schumann, are still capable of refraction by quartz, and this difference constitutes, in the minds of many physicists, a serious enough reason to decide them to reject the more simple hypothesis. moreover, the rays of schumann are, as we have seen, extraordinarily absorbable,--so much so that they have to be observed in a vacuum. the most striking property of the x rays is, on the contrary, the facility with which they pass through obstacles, and it is impossible not to attach considerable importance to such a difference. some attribute this marvellous radiation to longitudinal vibrations, which, as m. duhem has shown, would be propagated in dielectric media with a speed equal to that of light. but the most generally accepted idea is the one formulated from the first by sir george stokes and followed up by professor wiechert. according to this theory the x rays should be due to a succession of independent pulsations of the ether, starting from the points where the molecules projected by the cathode of the crookes tube meet the anticathode. these pulsations are not continuous vibrations like the radiations of the spectrum; they are isolated and extremely short; they are, besides, transverse, like the undulations of light, and the theory shows that they must be propagated with the speed of light. they should present neither refraction nor reflection, but, under certain conditions, they may be subject to the phenomena of diffraction. all these characteristics are found in the röntgen rays. professor j.j. thomson adopts an analogous idea, and states the precise way in which the pulsations may be produced at the moment when the electrified particles forming the cathode rays suddenly strike the anticathode wall. the electromagnetic induction behaves in such a way that the magnetic field is not annihilated when the particle stops, and the new field produced, which is no longer in equilibrium, is propagated in the dielectric like an electric pulsation. the electric and magnetic pulsations excited by this mechanism may give birth to effects similar to those of light. their slight amplitude, however, is the cause of there here being neither refraction nor diffraction phenomena, save in very special conditions. if the cathode particle is not stopped in zero time, the pulsation will take a greater amplitude, and be, in consequence, more easily absorbable; to this is probably to be attributed the differences which may exist between different tubes and different rays. it is right to add that some authors, notwithstanding the proved impossibility of deviating them in a magnetic field, have not renounced the idea of comparing them with the cathode rays. they suppose, for instance, that the rays are formed by electrons animated with so great a velocity that their inertia, conformably with theories which i shall examine later, no longer permit them to be stopped in their course; this is, for instance, the theory upheld by mr sutherland. we know, too, that to m. gustave le bon they represent the extreme limit of material things, one of the last stages before the vanishing of matter on its return to the ether. everyone has heard of the n rays, whose name recalls the town of nancy, where they were discovered. in some of their singular properties they are akin to the x rays, while in others they are widely divergent from them. m. blondlot, one of the masters of contemporary physics, deeply respected by all who know him, admired by everyone for the penetration of his mind, and the author of works remarkable for the originality and sureness of his method, discovered them in radiations emitted from various sources, such as the sun, an incandescent light, a nernst lamp, and even bodies previously exposed to the sun's rays. the essential property which allows them to be revealed is their action on a small induction spark, of which they increase the brilliancy; this phenomenon is visible to the eye and is rendered objective by photography. various other physicists and numbers of physiologists, following the path opened by m. blondlot, published during and manifold but often rather hasty memoirs, in which they related the results of their researches, which do not appear to have been always conducted with the accuracy desirable. these results were most strange; they seemed destined to revolutionise whole regions not only of the domain of physics, but likewise of the biological sciences. unfortunately the method of observation was always founded on the variations in visibility of the spark or of a phosphorescent substance, and it soon became manifest that these variations were not perceptible to all eyes. no foreign experimenter has succeeded in repeating the experiments, while in france many physicists have failed; and hence the question has much agitated public opinion. are we face to face with a very singular case of suggestion, or is special training and particular dispositions required to make the phenomenon apparent? it is not possible, at the present moment, to declare the problem solved; but very recent experiments by m. gutton and a note by m. mascart have reanimated the confidence of those who hoped that such a scholar as m. blondlot could not have been deluded by appearances. however, these last proofs in favour of the existence of the rays have themselves been contested, and have not succeeded in bringing conviction to everyone. it seems very probable indeed that certain of the most singular conclusions arrived at by certain authors on the subject will lapse into deserved oblivion. but negative experiments prove nothing in a case like this, and the fact that most experimenters have failed where m. blondlot and his pupils have succeeded may constitute a presumption, but cannot be regarded as a demonstrative argument. hence we must still wait; it is exceedingly possible that the illustrious physicist of nancy may succeed in discovering objective actions of the n rays which shall be indisputable, and may thus establish on a firm basis a discovery worthy of those others which have made his name so justly celebrated. according to m. blondlot the n rays can be polarised, refracted, and dispersed, while they have wavelengths comprised within . micron, and . micron--that is to say, between an eighth and a fifth of that found for the extreme ultra-violet rays. they might be, perhaps, simply rays of a very short period. their existence, stripped of the parasitical and somewhat singular properties sought to be attributed to them, would thus appear natural enough. it would, moreover, be extremely important, and lead, no doubt, to most curious applications; it can be conceived, in fact, that such rays might serve to reveal what occurs in those portions of matter whose too minute dimensions escape microscopic examination on account of the phenomena of diffraction. from whatever point of view we look at it, and whatever may be the fate of the discovery, the history of the n rays is particularly instructive, and must give food for reflection to those interested in questions of scientific methods. § . the ether and gravitation the striking success of the hypothesis of the ether in optics has, in our own days, strengthened the hope of being able to explain, by an analogous representation, the action of gravitation. for a long time, philosophers who rejected the idea that ponderability is a primary and essential quality of all bodies have sought to reduce their weight to pressures exercised in a very subtle fluid. this was the conception of descartes, and was perhaps the true idea of newton himself. newton points out, in many passages, that the laws he had discovered were independent of the hypotheses that could be formed on the way in which universal attraction was produced, but that with sufficient experiments the true cause of this attraction might one day be reached. in the preface to the second edition of the optics he writes: "to prove that i have not considered weight as a universal property of bodies, i have added a question as to its cause, preferring this form of question because my interpretation does not entirely satisfy me in the absence of experiment"; and he puts the question in this shape: "is not this medium (the ether) more rarefied in the interior of dense bodies like the sun, the planets, the comets, than in the empty spaces which separate them? passing from these bodies to great distances, does it not become continually denser, and in that way does it not produce the weight of these great bodies with regard to each other and of their parts with regard to these bodies, each body tending to leave the most dense for the most rarefied parts?" evidently this view is incomplete, but we may endeavour to state it precisely. if we admit that this medium, the properties of which would explain the attraction, is the same as the luminous ether, we may first ask ourselves whether the action of gravitation is itself also due to oscillations. some authors have endeavoured to found a theory on this hypothesis, but we are immediately brought face to face with very serious difficulties. gravity appears, in fact, to present quite exceptional characteristics. no agent, not even those which depend upon the ether, such as light and electricity, has any influence on its action or its direction. all bodies are, so to speak, absolutely transparent to universal attraction, and no experiment has succeeded in demonstrating that its propagation is not instantaneous. from various astronomical observations, laplace concluded that its velocity, in any case, must exceed fifty million times that of light. it is subject neither to reflection nor to refraction; it is independent of the structure of bodies; and not only is it inexhaustible, but also (as is pointed out, according to m. hannequin, by an english scholar, james croll) the distribution of the effects of the attracting force of a mass over the manifold particles which may successively enter the field of its action in no way diminishes the attraction it exercises on each of them respectively, a thing which is seen nowhere else in nature. nevertheless it is possible, by means of certain hypotheses, to construct interpretations whereby the appropriate movements of an elastic medium should explain the facts clearly enough. but these movements are very complex, and it seems almost inconceivable that the same medium could possess simultaneously the state of movement corresponding to the transmission of a luminous phenomenon and that constantly imposed on it by the transmission of gravitation. another celebrated hypothesis was devised by lesage, of geneva. lesage supposed space to be overrun in all directions by currents of _ultramundane_ corpuscles. this hypothesis, contested by maxwell, is interesting. it might perhaps be taken up again in our days, and it is not impossible that the assimilation of these corpuscles to electrons might give a satisfactory image.[ ] [footnote : m. sagnac (_le radium_, jan. , p. ), following perhaps professors elster and geitel, has lately taken up this idea anew.--ed.] m. crémieux has recently undertaken experiments directed, as he thinks, to showing that the divergences between the phenomena of gravitation and all the other phenomena in nature are more apparent than real. thus the evolution in the heart of the ether of a quantity of gravific energy would not be entirely isolated, and as in the case of all evolutions of all energy of whatever kind, it should provoke a partial transformation into energy of a different form. thus again the liberated energy of gravitation would vary when passing from one material to another, as from gases into liquids, or from one liquid to a different one. on this last point the researches of m. crémieux have given affirmative results: if we immerse in a large mass of some liquid several drops of another not miscible with the first, but of identical density, we form a mass representing no doubt a discontinuity in the ether, and we may ask ourselves whether, in conformity with what happens in all other phenomena of nature, this discontinuity has not a tendency to disappear. if we abide by the ordinary consequences of the newtonian theory of potential, the drops should remain motionless, the hydrostatic impulsion forming an exact equilibrium to their mutual attraction. now m. crémieux remarks that, as a matter of fact, they slowly approach each other. such experiments are very delicate; and with all the precautions taken by the author, it cannot yet be asserted that he has removed all possibility of the action of the phenomena of capillarity nor all possible errors proceeding from extremely slight differences of temperature. but the attempt is interesting and deserves to be followed up. thus, the hypothesis of the ether does not yet explain all the phenomena which the considerations relating to matter are of themselves powerless to interpret. if we wished to represent to ourselves, by the mechanical properties of a medium filling the whole of the universe, all luminous, electric, and gravitation phenomena, we should be led to attribute to this medium very strange and almost contradictory characteristics; and yet it would be still more inconceivable that this medium should be double or treble, that there should be two or three ethers each occupying space as if it were alone, and interpenetrating it without exercising any action on one another. we are thus brought, by a close examination of facts, rather to the idea that the properties of the ether are not wholly reducible to the rules of ordinary mechanics. the physicist has therefore not yet succeeded in answering the question often put to him by the philosopher: "has the ether really an objective existence?" however, it is not necessary to know the answer in order to utilize the ether. in its ideal properties we find the means of determining the form of equations which are valid, and to the learned detached from all metaphysical prepossession this is the essential point. chapter vii a chapter in the history of science: wireless telegraphy § i have endeavoured in this book to set forth impartially the ideas dominant at this moment in the domain of physics, and to make known the facts essential to them. i have had to quote the authors of the principal discoveries in order to be able to class and, in some sort, to name these discoveries; but i in no way claim to write even a summary history of the physics of the day. i am not unaware that, as has often been said, contemporary history is the most difficult of all histories to write. a certain step backwards seems necessary in order to enable us to appreciate correctly the relative importance of events, and details conceal the full view from eyes which are too close to them, as the trees prevent us from seeing the forest. the event which produces a great sensation has often only insignificant consequences; while another, which seemed at the outset of the least importance and little worthy of note, has in the long run a widespread and deep influence. if, however, we deal with the history of a positive discovery, contemporaries who possess immediate information, and are in a position to collect authentic evidence at first hand, will make, by bringing to it their sincere testimony, a work of erudition which may be very useful, but which we may be tempted to look upon as very easy of execution. yet such a labour, even when limited to the study of a very minute question or of a recent invention, is far from being accomplished without the historian stumbling over serious obstacles. an invention is never, in reality, to be attributed to a single author. it is the result of the work of many collaborators who sometimes have no acquaintance with one another, and is often the fruit of obscure labours. public opinion, however, wilfully simple in face of a sensational discovery, insists that the historian should also act as judge; and it is the historian's task to disentangle the truth in the midst of the contest, and to declare infallibly to whom the acknowledgments of mankind should be paid. he must, in his capacity as skilled expert, expose piracies, detect the most carefully hidden plagiarisms, and discuss the delicate question of priority; while he must not be deluded by those who do not fear to announce, in bold accents, that they have solved problems of which they find the solution imminent, and who, the day after its final elucidation by third parties, proclaim themselves its true discoverers. he must rise above a partiality which deems itself excusable because it proceeds from national pride; and, finally, he must seek with patience for what has gone before. while thus retreating step by step he runs the risk of losing himself in the night of time. an example of yesterday seems to show the difficulties of such a task. among recent discoveries the invention of wireless telegraphy is one of those which have rapidly become popular, and looks, as it were, an exact subject clearly marked out. many attempts have already been made to write its history. mr j.j. fahie published in england as early as an interesting work entitled the _history of wireless telegraphy_; and about the same time m. broca published in france a very exhaustive work named _la telegraphie sans fil_. among the reports presented to the congrès international de physique (paris, ), signor righi, an illustrious italian scholar, whose personal efforts have largely contributed to the invention of the present system of telegraphy, devoted a chapter, short, but sufficiently complete, of his masterly report on hertzian waves, to the history of wireless telegraphy. the same author, in association with herr bernhard dessau, has likewise written a more important work, _die telegraphie ohne draht_; and _la telegraphie sans fil et les ondes Électriques_ of mm. j. boulanger and g. ferrié may also be consulted with advantage, as may _la telegraphie sans fil_ of signor dominico mazotto. quite recently mr a. story has given us in a little volume called _the story of wireless telegraphy_, a condensed but very precise recapitulation of all the attempts which have been made to establish telegraphic communication without the intermediary of a conducting wire. mr story has examined many documents, has sometimes brought curious facts to light, and has studied even the most recently adopted apparatus. it may be interesting, by utilising the information supplied by these authors and supplementing them when necessary by others, to trace the sources of this modern discovery, to follow its developments, and thus to prove once more how much a matter, most simple in appearance, demands extensive and complex researches on the part of an author desirous of writing a definitive work. § the first, and not the least difficulty, is to clearly define the subject. the words "wireless telegraphy," which at first seem to correspond to a simple and perfectly clear idea, may in reality apply to two series of questions, very different in the mind of a physicist, between which it is important to distinguish. the transmission of signals demands three organs which all appear indispensable: the transmitter, the receiver, and, between the two, an intermediary establishing the communication. this intermediary is generally the most costly part of the installation and the most difficult to set up, while it is here that the sensible losses of energy at the expense of good output occur. and yet our present ideas cause us to consider this intermediary as more than ever impossible to suppress; since, if we are definitely quit of the conception of action at a distance, it becomes inconceivable to us that energy can be communicated from one point to another without being carried by some intervening medium. but, practically, the line will be suppressed if, instead of constructing it artificially, we use to replace it one of the natural media which separate two points on the earth. these natural media are divided into two very distinct categories, and from this classification arise two series of questions to be examined. between the two points in question there are, first, the material media such as the air, the earth, and the water. for a long time we have used for transmissions to a distance the elastic properties of the air, and more recently the electric conductivity of the soil and of water, particularly that of the sea. modern physics leads us on the other hand, as we have seen, to consider that there exists throughout the whole of the universe another and more subtle medium which penetrates everywhere, is endowed with elasticity _in vacuo_, and retains its elasticity when it penetrates into a great number of bodies, such as the air. this medium is the luminous ether which possesses, as we cannot doubt, the property of being able to transmit energy, since it itself brings to us by far the larger part of the energy which we possess on earth and which we find in the movements of the atmosphere, or of waterfalls, and in the coal mines proceeding from the decomposition of carbon compounds under the influence of the solar energy. for a long time also before the existence of the ether was known, the duty of transmitting signals was entrusted to it. thus through the ages a double evolution is unfolded which has to be followed by the historian who is ambitious of completeness. § if such an historian were to examine from the beginning the first order of questions, he might, no doubt, speak only briefly of the attempts earlier than electric telegraphy. without seeking to be paradoxical, he certainly ought to mention the invention of the speaking-trumpet and other similar inventions which for a long time have enabled mankind, by the ingenious use of the elastic properties of the natural media, to communicate at greater distances than they could have attained without the aid of art. after this in some sort prehistoric period had been rapidly run through, he would have to follow very closely the development of electric telegraphy. almost from the outset, and shortly after ampère had made public the idea of constructing a telegraph, and the day after gauss and weber set up between their houses in göttingen the first line really used, it was thought that the conducting properties of the earth and water might be made of service. the history of these trials is very long, and is closely mixed up with the history of ordinary telegraphy; long chapters for some time past have been devoted to it in telegraphic treatises. it was in , however, that professor c.a. steinheil of munich expressed, for the first time, the clear idea of suppressing the return wire and replacing it by a connection of the line wire to the earth. he thus at one step covered half the way, the easiest, it is true, which was to lead to the final goal, since he saved the use of one-half of the line of wire. steinheil, advised, perhaps, by gauss, had, moreover, a very exact conception of the part taken by the earth considered as a conducting body. he seems to have well understood that, in certain conditions, the resistance of such a conductor, though supposed to be unlimited, might be independent of the distance apart of the electrodes which carry the current and allow it to go forth. he likewise thought of using the railway lines to transmit telegraphic signals. several scholars who from the first had turned their minds to telegraphy, had analogous ideas. it was thus that s.f.b. morse, superintendent of the government telegraphs in the united states, whose name is universally known in connection with the very simple apparatus invented by him, made experiments in the autumn of before a special commission in new york and a numerous public audience, to show how surely and how easily his apparatus worked. in the very midst of his experiments a very happy idea occurred to him of replacing by the water of a canal, the length of about a mile of wire which had been suddenly and accidentally destroyed. this accident, which for a moment compromised the legitimate success the celebrated engineer expected, thus suggested to him a fruitful idea which he did not forget. he subsequently repeated attempts to thus utilise the earth and water, and obtained some very remarkable results. it is not possible to quote here all the researches undertaken with the same purpose, to which are more particularly attached the names of s.w. wilkins, wheatstone, and h. highton, in england; of bonetti in italy, gintl in austria, bouchot and donat in france; but there are some which cannot be recalled without emotion. on the th december , a physicist who has left in the university of paris a lasting name, m. d'almeida, at that time professor at the lycée henri iv. and later inspector-general of public instruction, quitted paris, then besieged, in a balloon, and descended in the midst of the german lines. he succeeded, after a perilous journey, in gaining havre by way of bordeaux and lyons; and after procuring the necessary apparatus in england, he descended the seine as far as poissy, which he reached on the th january . after his departure, two other scholars, mm. desains and bourbouze, relieving each other day and night, waited at paris, in a wherry on the seine, ready to receive the signal which they awaited with patriotic anxiety. it was a question of working a process devised by the last-named pair, in which the water of the river acted the part of the line wire. on the rd january the communication at last seemed to be established, but unfortunately, first the armistice and then the surrender of paris rendered useless the valuable result of this noble effort. special mention is also due to the experiments made by the indian telegraph office, under the direction of mr johnson and afterwards of mr w.f. melhuish. they led, indeed, in to such satisfactory results that a telegraph service, in which the line wire was replaced by the earth, worked practically and regularly. other attempts were also made during the latter half of the nineteenth century to transmit signals through the sea. they preceded the epoch when, thanks to numerous physicists, among whom lord kelvin undoubtedly occupies a preponderating position, we succeeded in sinking the first cable; but they were not abandoned, even after that date, for they gave hopes of a much more economical solution of the problem. among the most interesting are remembered those that s.w. wilkins carried on for a long time between france and england. like cooke and wheatstone, he thought of using as a receiver an apparatus which in some features resembles the present receiver of the submarine telegraph. later, george e. dering, then james bowman and lindsay, made on the same lines trials which are worthy of being remembered. but it is only in our own days that sir william h. preece at last obtained for the first time really practical results. sir william himself effected and caused to be executed by his associates--he is chief consulting engineer to the general post office in england-- researches conducted with much method and based on precise theoretical considerations. he thus succeeded in establishing very easy, clear, and regular communications between various places; for example, across the bristol channel. the long series of operations accomplished by so many seekers, with the object of substituting a material and natural medium for the artificial lines of metal, thus met with an undoubted success which was soon to be eclipsed by the widely-known experiments directed into a different line by marconi. it is right to add that sir william preece had himself utilised induction phenomena in his experiments, and had begun researches with the aid of electric waves. much is due to him for the welcome he gave to marconi; it is certainly thanks to the advice and the material support he found in sir william that the young scholar succeeded in effecting his sensational experiments. § the starting-point of the experiments based on the properties of the luminous ether, and having for their object the transmission of signals, is very remote; and it would be a very laborious task to hunt up all the work accomplished in that direction, even if we were to confine ourselves to those in which electrical reactions play a part. an electric reaction, an electrostatic influence, or an electromagnetic phenomenon, is transmitted at a distance through the air by the intermediary of the luminous ether. but electric influence can hardly be used, as the distances it would allow us to traverse would be much too restricted, and electrostatic actions are often very erratic. the phenomena of induction, which are very regular and insensible to the variations of the atmosphere, have, on the other hand, for a long time appeared serviceable for telegraphic purposes. we might find, in a certain number of the attempts just mentioned, a partial employment of these phenomena. lindsay, for instance, in his project of communication across the sea, attributed to them a considerable rôle. these phenomena even permitted a true telegraphy without intermediary wire between the transmitter and the receiver, at very restricted distances, it is true, but in peculiarly interesting conditions. it is, in fact, owing to them that c. brown, and later edison and gilliland, succeeded in establishing communications with trains in motion. mr willoughby s. smith and mr charles a. stevenson also undertook experiments during the last twenty years, in which they used induction, but the most remarkable attempts are perhaps those of professor emile rathenau. with the assistance of professor rubens and of herr w. rathenau, this physicist effected, at the request of the german ministry of marine, a series of researches which enabled him, by means of a compound system of conduction and induction by alternating currents, to obtain clear and regular communications at a distance of four kilometres. among the precursors also should be mentioned graham bell; the inventor of the telephone thought of employing his admirable apparatus as a receiver of induction phenomena transmitted from a distance; edison, herr sacher of vienna, m. henry dufour of lausanne, and professor trowbridge of boston, also made interesting attempts in the same direction. in all these experiments occurs the idea of employing an oscillating current. moreover, it was known for a long time--since, in , the great american physicist henry proved that the discharges from a leyden jar in the attic of his house caused sparks in a metallic circuit on the ground floor--that a flux which varies rapidly and periodically is much more efficacious than a simple flux, which latter can only produce at a distance a phenomenon of slight intensity. this idea of the oscillating current was closely akin to that which was at last to lead to an entirely satisfactory solution: that is, to a solution which is founded on the properties of electric waves. § having thus got to the threshold of the definitive edifice, the historian, who has conducted his readers over the two parallel routes which have just been marked out, will be brought to ask himself whether he has been a sufficiently faithful guide and has not omitted to draw attention to all essential points in the regions passed through. ought we not to place by the side, or perhaps in front, of the authors who have devised the practical appliances, those scholars who have constructed the theories and realised the laboratory experiments of which, after all, the apparatus are only the immediate applications? if we speak of the propagation of a current in a material medium, can one forget the names of fourier and of ohm, who established by theoretical considerations the laws which preside over this propagation? when one looks at the phenomena of induction, would it not be just to remember that arago foresaw them, and that michael faraday discovered them? it would be a delicate, and also a rather puerile task, to class men of genius in order of merit. the merit of an inventor like edison and that of a theorist like clerk maxwell have no common measure, and mankind is indebted for its great progress to the one as much as to the other. before relating how success attended the efforts to utilise electric waves for the transmission of signals, we cannot without ingratitude pass over in silence the theoretical speculations and the work of pure science which led to the knowledge of these waves. it would therefore be just, without going further back than faraday, to say how that illustrious physicist drew attention to the part taken by insulating media in electrical phenomena, and to insist also on the admirable memoirs in which for the first time clerk maxwell made a solid bridge between those two great chapters of physics, optics and electricity, which till then had been independent of each other. and no doubt it would be impossible not to evoke the memory of those who, by establishing, on the other hand, the solid and magnificent structure of physical optics, and proving by their immortal works the undulatory nature of light, prepared from the opposite direction the future unity. in the history of the applications of electrical undulations, the names of young, fresnel, fizeau, and foucault must be inscribed; without these scholars, the assimilation between electrical and luminous phenomena which they discovered and studied would evidently have been impossible. since there is an absolute identity of nature between the electric and the luminous waves, we should, in all justice, also consider as precursors those who devised the first luminous telegraphs. claude chappe incontestably effected wireless telegraphy, thanks to the luminous ether, and the learned men, such as colonel mangin, who perfected optical telegraphy, indirectly suggested certain improvements lately introduced into the present method. but the physicist whose work should most of all be put in evidence is, without fear of contradiction, heinrich hertz. it was he who demonstrated irrefutably, by experiments now classic, that an electric discharge produces an undulatory disturbance in the ether contained in the insulating media in its neighbourhood; it was he who, as a profound theorist, a clever mathematician, and an experimenter of prodigious dexterity, made known the mechanism of the production, and fully elucidated that of the propagation of these electromagnetic waves. he must naturally himself have thought that his discoveries might be applied to the transmission of signals. it would appear, however, that when interrogated by a munich engineer named huber as to the possibility of utilising the waves for transmissions by telephone, he answered in the negative, and dwelt on certain considerations relative to the difference between the periods of sounds and those of electrical vibrations. this answer does not allow us to judge what might have happened, had not a cruel death carried off in , at the age of thirty-five, the great and unfortunate physicist. we might also find in certain works earlier than the experiments of hertz attempts at transmission in which, unconsciously no doubt, phenomena were already set in operation which would, at this day, be classed as electric oscillations. it is allowable no doubt, not to speak of an american quack, mahlon loomis, who, according to mr story, patented in a project of communication in which he utilised the rocky mountains on one side and mont blanc on the other, as gigantic antennae to establish communication across the atlantic; but we cannot pass over in silence the very remarkable researches of the american professor dolbear, who showed, at the electrical exhibition of philadelphia in , a set of apparatus enabling signals to be transmitted at a distance, which he described as "an exceptional application of the principles of electrostatic induction." this apparatus comprised groups of coils and condensers by means of which he obtained, as we cannot now doubt, effects due to true electric waves. place should also be made for a well-known inventor, d.e. hughes, who from to followed up some very curious experiments in which also these oscillations certainly played a considerable part. it was this physicist who invented the microphone, and thus, in another way, drew attention to the variations of contact resistance, a phenomenon not far from that produced in the radio-conductors of branly, which are important organs in the marconi system. unfortunately, fatigued and in ill-health, hughes ceased his researches at the moment perhaps when they would have given him final results. in an order of ideas different in appearance, but closely linked at bottom with the one just mentioned, must be recalled the discovery of radiophony in by graham bell, which was foreshadowed in by c.a. brown. a luminous ray falling on a selenium cell produces a variation of electric resistance, thanks to which a sound signal can be transmitted by light. that delicate instrument the radiophone, constructed on this principle, has wide analogies with the apparatus of to-day. § starting from the experiments of hertz, the history of wireless telegraphy almost merges into that of the researches on electrical waves. all the progress realised in the manner of producing and receiving these waves necessarily helped to give rise to the application already indicated. the experiments of hertz, after being checked in every laboratory, and having entered into the strong domain of our most certain knowledge, were about to yield the expected fruit. experimenters like sir oliver lodge in england, righi in italy, sarrazin and de la rive in switzerland, blondlot in france, lecher in germany, bose in india, lebedeff in russia, and theorists like m.h. poincaré and professor bjerknes, who devised ingenious arrangements or elucidated certain points left dark, are among the artisans of the work which followed its natural evolution. it was professor r. threlfall who seems to have been the first to clearly propose, in , the application of the hertzian waves to telegraphy, but it was certainly sir w. crookes who, in a very remarkable article in the _fortnightly review_ of february , pointed out very clearly the road to be followed. he even showed in what conditions the morse receiver might be applied to the new system of telegraphy. about the same period an american physicist, well known by his celebrated experiments on high frequency currents--experiments, too, which are not unconnected with those on electric oscillations,--m. tesla, demonstrated that these oscillations could be transmitted to more considerable distances by making use of two vertical antennae, terminated by large conductors. a little later, sir oliver lodge succeeded, by the aid of the coherer, in detecting waves at relatively long distances, and mr rutherford obtained similar results with a magnetic indicator of his own invention. an important question of meteorology, the study of atmospheric discharges, at this date led a few scholars, and more particularly the russian, m. popoff, to set up apparatus very analogous to the receiving apparatus of the present wireless telegraphy. this comprised a long antenna and filings-tube, and m. popoff even pointed out that his apparatus might well serve for the transmission of signals as soon as a generator of waves powerful enough had been discovered. finally, on the nd june , a young italian, born in bologna on the th april , guglielmo marconi, patented a system of wireless telegraphy destined to become rapidly popular. brought up in the laboratory of professor righi, one of the physicists who had done most to confirm and extend the experiments of hertz, marconi had long been familiar with the properties of electric waves, and was well used to their manipulation. he afterwards had the good fortune to meet sir william (then mr) preece, who was to him an adviser of the highest authority. it has sometimes been said that the marconi system contains nothing original; that the apparatus for producing the waves was the oscillator of righi, that the receiver was that employed for some two or three years by professor lodge and mr bose, and was founded on an earlier discovery by a french scholar, m. branly; and, finally, that the general arrangement was that established by m. popoff. the persons who thus rather summarily judge the work of m. marconi show a severity approaching injustice. it cannot, in truth, be denied that the young scholar has brought a strictly personal contribution to the solution of the problem he proposed to himself. apart from his forerunners, and when their attempts were almost unknown, he had the very great merit of adroitly arranging the most favourable combination, and he was the first to succeed in obtaining practical results, while he showed that the electric waves could be transmitted and received at distances enormous compared to those attained before his day. alluding to a well-known anecdote relating to christopher columbus, sir w. preece very justly said: "the forerunners and rivals of marconi no doubt knew of the eggs, but he it was who taught them to make them stand on end." this judgment will, without any doubt, be the one that history will definitely pronounce on the italian scholar. § the apparatus which enables the electric waves to be revealed, the detector or indicator, is the most delicate organ in wireless telegraphy. it is not necessary to employ as an indicator a filings-tube or radio-conductor. one can, in principle, for the purpose of constructing a receiver, think of any one of the multiple effects produced by the hertzian waves. in many systems in use, and in the new one of marconi himself, the use of these tubes has been abandoned and replaced by magnetic detectors. nevertheless, the first and the still most frequent successes are due to radio-conductors, and public opinion has not erred in attributing to the inventor of this ingenious apparatus a considerable and almost preponderant part in the invention of wave telegraphy. the history of the discovery of radio-conductors is short, but it deserves, from its importance, a chapter to itself in the history of wireless telegraphy. from a theoretical point of view, the phenomena produced in those tubes should be set by the side of those studied by graham bell, c.a. brown, and summer tainter, from the year onward. the variations to which luminous waves give rise in the resistance of selenium and other substances are, doubtless, not unconnected with those which the electric waves produce in filings. a connection can also be established between this effect of the waves and the variations of contact resistance which enabled hughes to construct the microphone, that admirable instrument which is one of the essential organs of telephony. more directly, as an antecedent to the discovery, should be quoted the remark made by varley in , that coal-dust changes in conductivity when the electromotive force of the current which passes through it is made to vary. but it was in that an italian professor, signor calzecchi-onesti, demonstrated in a series of remarkable experiments that the metallic filings contained in a tube of insulating material, into which two metallic electrodes are inserted, acquire a notable conductivity under different influences such as extra currents, induced currents, sonorous vibrations, etc., and that this conductivity is easily destroyed; as, for instance, by turning the tube over and over. in several memoirs published in and , m. ed. branly independently pointed out similar phenomena, and made a much more complete and systematic study of the question. he was the first to note very clearly that the action described could be obtained by simply making sparks pass in the neighbourhood of the radio-conductor, and that their great resistance could be restored to the filings by giving a slight shake to the tube or to its supports. the idea of utilising such a very interesting phenomenon as an indicator in the study of the hertzian waves seems to have occurred simultaneously to several physicists, among whom should be especially mentioned m. ed. branly himself, sir oliver lodge, and mm. le royer and van beschem, and its use in laboratories rapidly became quite common. the action of the waves on metallic powders has, however, remained some what mysterious; for ten years it has been the subject of important researches by professor lodge, m. branly, and a very great number of the most distinguished physicists. it is impossible to notice here all these researches, but from a recent and very interesting work of m. blanc, it would seem that the phenomenon is allied to that of ionisation. § the history of wireless telegraphy does not end with the first experiments of marconi; but from the moment their success was announced in the public press, the question left the domain of pure science to enter into that of commerce. the historian's task here becomes different, but even more delicate; and he will encounter difficulties which can be only known to one about to write the history of a commercial invention. the actual improvements effected in the system are kept secret by the rival companies, and the most important results are patriotically left in darkness by the learned officers who operate discreetly in view of the national defence. meanwhile, men of business desirous of bringing out a company proclaim, with great nourish of advertisements, that they are about to exploit a process superior to all others. on this slippery ground the impartial historian must nevertheless venture; and he may not refuse to relate the progress accomplished, which is considerable. therefore, after having described the experiments carried out for nearly ten years by marconi himself, first across the bristol channel, then at spezzia, between the coast and the ironclad _san bartolommeo_, and finally by means of gigantic apparatus between america and england, he must give the names of those who, in the different civilised countries, have contributed to the improvement of the system of communication by waves; while he must describe what precious services this system has already rendered to the art of war, and happily also to peaceful navigation. from the point of view of the theory of the phenomena, very remarkable results have been obtained by various physicists, among whom should be particularly mentioned m. tissot, whose brilliant studies have thrown a bright light on different interesting points, such as the rôle of the antennae. it would be equally impossible to pass over in silence other recent attempts in a slightly different groove. marconi's system, however improved it may be to-day, has one grave defect. the synchronism of the two pieces of apparatus, the transmitter and the receiver, is not perfect, so that a message sent off by one station may be captured by some other station. the fact that the phenomena of resonance are not utilised, further prevents the quantity of energy received by the receiver from being considerable, and hence the effects reaped are very weak, so that the system remains somewhat fitful and the communications are often disturbed by atmospheric phenomena. causes which render the air a momentary conductor, such as electrical discharges, ionisation, etc., moreover naturally prevent the waves from passing, the ether thus losing its elasticity. professor ferdinand braun of strasburg has conceived the idea of employing a mixed system, in which the earth and the water, which, as we have seen, have often been utilised to conduct a current for transmitting a signal, will serve as a sort of guide to the waves themselves. the now well-known theory of the propagation of waves guided by a conductor enables it to be foreseen that, according to their periods, these waves will penetrate more or less deeply into the natural medium, from which fact has been devised a method of separating them according to their frequency. by applying this theory, m. braun has carried out, first in the fortifications of strasburg, and then between the island of heligoland and the mainland, experiments which have given remarkable results. we might mention also the researches, in a somewhat analogous order of ideas, by an english engineer, mr armstrong, by dr lee de forest, and also by professor fessenden. having thus arrived at the end of this long journey, which has taken him from the first attempts down to the most recent experiments, the historian can yet set up no other claim but that of having written the commencement of a history which others must continue in the future. progress does not stop, and it is never permissible to say that an invention has reached its final form. should the historian desire to give a conclusion to his labour and answer the question the reader would doubtless not fail to put to him, "to whom, in short, should the invention of wireless telegraphy more particularly be attributed?" he should certainly first give the name of hertz, the genius who discovered the waves, then that of marconi, who was the first to transmit signals by the use of hertzian undulations, and should add those of the scholars who, like morse, popoff, sir w. preece, lodge, and, above all, branly, have devised the arrangements necessary for their transmission. but he might then recall what voltaire wrote in the _philosophical dictionary_: "what! we wish to know what was the exact theology of thot, of zerdust, of sanchuniathon, of the first brahmins, and we are ignorant of the inventor of the shuttle! the first weaver, the first mason, the first smith, were no doubt great geniuses, but they were disregarded. why? because none of them invented a perfected art. the one who hollowed out an oak to cross a river never made a galley; those who piled up rough stones with girders of wood did not plan the pyramids. everything is made by degrees and the glory belongs to no one." to-day, more than ever, the words of voltaire are true: science becomes more and more impersonal, and she teaches us that progress is nearly always due to the united efforts of a crowd of workers, and is thus the best school of social solidarity. chapter viii the conductivity of gases and the ions § . the conductivity of gases if we were confined to the facts i have set forth above, we might conclude that two classes of phenomena are to-day being interpreted with increasing correctness in spite of the few difficulties which have been pointed out. the hypothesis of the molecular constitution of matter enables us to group together one of these classes, and the hypothesis of the ether leads us to co-ordinate the other. but these two classes of phenomena cannot be considered independent of each other. relations evidently exist between matter and the ether, which manifest themselves in many cases accessible to experiment, and the search for these relations appears to be the paramount problem the physicist should set himself. the question has, for a long time, been attacked on various sides, but the recent discoveries in the conductivity of gases, of the radioactive substances, and of the cathode and similar rays, have allowed us of late years to regard it in a new light. without wishing to set out here in detail facts which for the most part are well known, we will endeavour to group the chief of them round a few essential ideas, and will seek to state precisely the data they afford us for the solution of this grave problem. it was the study of the conductivity of gases which at the very first furnished the most important information, and allowed us to penetrate more deeply than had till then been possible into the inmost constitution of matter, and thus to, as it were, catch in the act the actions that matter can exercise on the ether, or, reciprocally, those it may receive from it. it might, perhaps, have been foreseen that such a study would prove remarkably fruitful. the examination of the phenomena of electrolysis had, in fact, led to results of the highest importance on the constitution of liquids, and the gaseous media which presented themselves as particularly simple in all their properties ought, it would seem, to have supplied from the very first a field of investigation easy to work and highly productive. this, however, was not at all the case. experimental complications springing up at every step obscured the problem. one generally found one's self in the presence of violent disruptive discharges with a train of accessory phenomena, due, for instance, to the use of metallic electrodes, and made evident by the complex appearance of aigrettes and effluves; or else one had to deal with heated gases difficult to handle, which were confined in receptacles whose walls played a troublesome part and succeeded in veiling the simplicity of the fundamental facts. notwithstanding, therefore, the efforts of a great number of seekers, no general idea disengaged itself out of a mass of often contradictory information. many physicists, in france particularly, discarded the study of questions which seemed so confused, and it must even be frankly acknowledged that some among them had a really unfounded distrust of certain results which should have been considered proved, but which had the misfortune to be in contradiction with the theories in current use. all the classic ideas relating to electrical phenomena led to the consideration that there existed a perfect symmetry between the two electricities, positive and negative. in the passing of electricity through gases there is manifested, on the contrary, an evident dissymmetry. the anode and the cathode are immediately distinguished in a tube of rarefied gas by their peculiar appearance; and the conductivity does not appear, under certain conditions, to be the same for the two modes of electrification. it is not devoid of interest to note that erman, a german scholar, once very celebrated and now generally forgotten, drew attention as early as to the unipolar conductivity of a flame. his contemporaries, as may be gathered from the perusal of the treatises on physics of that period, attached great importance to this discovery; but, as it was somewhat inconvenient and did not readily fit in with ordinary studies, it was in due course neglected, then considered as insufficiently established, and finally wholly forgotten. all these somewhat obscure facts, and some others--such as the different action of ultra-violet radiations on positively and negatively charged bodies--are now, on the contrary, about to be co-ordinated, thanks to the modern ideas on the mechanism of conduction; while these ideas will also allow us to interpret the most striking dissymmetry of all, i.e. that revealed by electrolysis itself, a dissymmetry which certainly can not be denied, but to which sufficient attention has not been given. it is to a german physicist, giese, that we owe the first notions on the mechanism of the conductivity of gases, as we now conceive it. in two memoirs published in and , he plainly arrives at the conception that conduction in gases is not due to their molecules, but to certain fragments of them or to ions. giese was a forerunner, but his ideas could not triumph so long as there were no means of observing conduction in simple circumstances. but this means has now been supplied in the discovery of the x rays. suppose we pass through some gas at ordinary pressure, such as hydrogen, a pencil of x rays. the gas, which till then has behaved as a perfect insulator,[ ] suddenly acquires a remarkable conductivity. if into this hydrogen two metallic electrodes in communication with the two poles of a battery are introduced, a current is set up in very special conditions which remind us, when they are checked by experiments, of the mechanism which allows the passage of electricity in electrolysis, and which is so well represented to us when we picture to ourselves this passage as due to the migration towards the electrodes, under the action of the field, of the two sets of ions produced by the spontaneous division of the molecule within the solution. [footnote : at least, so long as it is not introduced between the two coatings of a condenser having a difference of potential sufficient to overcome what m. bouty calls its dielectric cohesion. we leave on one side this phenomenon, regarding which m. bouty has arrived at extremely important results by a very remarkable series of experiments; but this question rightly belongs to a special study of electrical phenomena which is not yet written.] let us therefore recognise with j.j. thomson and the many physicists who, in his wake, have taken up and developed the idea of giese, that, under the influence of the x rays, for reasons which will have to be determined later, certain gaseous molecules have become divided into two portions, the one positively and the other negatively electrified, which we will call, by analogy with the kindred phenomenon in electrolysis, by the name of ions. if the gas be then placed in an electric field, produced, for instance, by two metallic plates connected with the two poles of a battery respectively, the positive ions will travel towards the plate connected with the negative pole, and the negative ions in the contrary direction. there is thus produced a current due to the transport to the electrodes of the charges which existed on the ions. if the gas thus ionised be left to itself, in the absence of any electric field, the ions, yielding to their mutual attraction, must finally meet, combine, and reconstitute a neutral molecule, thus returning to their initial condition. the gas in a short while loses the conductivity which it had acquired; or this is, at least, the phenomenon at ordinary temperatures. but if the temperature is raised, the relative speeds of the ions at the moment of impact may be great enough to render it impossible for the recombination to be produced in its entirety, and part of the conductivity will remain. every element of volume rendered a conductor therefore furnishes, in an electric field, equal quantities of positive and negative electricity. if we admit, as mentioned above, that these liberated quantities are borne by ions each bearing an equal charge, the number of these ions will be proportional to the quantity of electricity, and instead of speaking of a quantity of electricity, we could use the equivalent term of number of ions. for the excitement produced by a given pencil of x rays, the number of ions liberated will be fixed. thus, from a given volume of gas there can only be extracted an equally determinate quantity of electricity. the conductivity produced is not governed by ohm's law. the intensity is not proportional to the electromotive force, and it increases at first as the electromotive force augments; but it approaches asymptotically to a maximum value which corresponds to the number of ions liberated, and can therefore serve as a measure of the power of the excitement. it is this current which is termed the _current of saturation_. m. righi has ably demonstrated that ionised gas does not obey the law of ohm by an experiment very paradoxical in appearance. he found that, the greater the distance of the two electrode plates from each, the greater may be, within certain limits, the intensity of the current. the fact is very clearly interpreted by the theory of ionisation, since the greater the length of the gaseous column the greater must be the number of ions liberated. one of the most striking characteristics of ionised gases is that of discharging electrified conductors. this phenomenon is not produced by the departure of the charge that these conductors may possess, but by the advent of opposite charges brought to them by ions which obey the electrostatic attraction and abandon their own electrification when they come in contact with these conductors. this mode of regarding the phenomena is extremely convenient and eminently suggestive. it may, no doubt, be thought that the image of the ions is not identical with objective reality, but we are compelled to acknowledge that it represents with absolute faithfulness all the details of the phenomena. other facts, moreover, will give to this hypothesis a still greater value; we shall even be able, so to speak, to grasp these ions individually, to count them, and to measure their charge. § . the condensation of water-vapour by ions if the pressure of a vapour--that of water, for instance--in the atmosphere reaches the value of the maximum pressure corresponding to the temperature of the experiment, the elementary theory teaches us that the slightest decrease in temperature will induce a condensation; that small drops will form, and the mist will turn into rain. in reality, matters do not occur in so simple a manner. a more or less considerable delay may take place, and the vapour will remain supersaturated. we easily discover that this phenomenon is due to the intervention of capillary action. on a drop of liquid a surface-tension takes effect which gives rise to a pressure which becomes greater the smaller the diameter of the drop. pressure facilitates evaporation, and on more closely examining this reaction we arrive at the conclusion that vapour can never spontaneously condense itself when liquid drops already formed are not present, unless forces of another nature intervene to diminish the effect of the capillary forces. in the most frequent cases, these forces come from the dust which is always in suspension in the air, or which exists in any recipient. grains of dust act by reason of their hygrometrical power, and form germs round which drops presently form. it is possible to make use, as did m. coulier as early as , of this phenomenon to carry off the germs of condensation, by producing by expansion in a bottle containing a little water a preliminary mist which purifies the air. in subsequent experiments it will be found almost impossible to produce further condensation of vapour. but these forces may also be of electrical origin. von helmholtz long since showed that electricity exercises an influence on the condensation of the vapour of water, and mr c.t.r. wilson, with this view, has made truly quantitative experiments. it was rapidly discovered after the apparition of the x rays that gases that have become conductors, that is, ionised gases, also facilitate the condensation of supersaturated water vapour. we are thus led by a new road to the belief that electrified centres exist in gases, and that each centre draws to itself the neighbouring molecules of water, as an electrified rod of resin does the light bodies around it. there is produced in this manner round each ion an assemblage of molecules of water which constitute a germ capable of causing the formation of a drop of water out of the condensation of excess vapour in the ambient air. as might be expected, the drops are electrified, and take to themselves the charge of the centres round which they are formed; moreover, as many drops are created as there are ions. thereafter we have only to count these drops to ascertain the number of ions which existed in the gaseous mass. to effect this counting, several methods have been used, differing in principle but leading to similar results. it is possible, as mr c.t.r. wilson and professor j.j. thomson have done, to estimate, on the one hand, the weight of the mist which is produced in determined conditions, and on the other, the average weight of the drops, according to the formula formerly given by sir g. stokes, by deducting their diameter from the speed with which this mist falls; or we can, with professor lemme, determine the average radius of the drops by an optical process, viz. by measuring the diameter of the first diffraction ring produced when looking through the mist at a point of light. we thus get to a very high number. there are, for instance, some twenty million ions per centimetre cube when the rays have produced their maximum effect, but high as this figure is, it is still very small compared with the total number of molecules. all conclusions drawn from kinetic theory lead us to think that in the same space there must exist, by the side of a molecule divided into two ions, a thousand millions remaining in a neutral state and intact. mr c.t.r. wilson has remarked that the positive and negative ions do not produce condensation with the same facility. the ions of a contrary sign may be almost completely separated by placing the ionised gas in a suitably disposed field. in the neighbourhood of a negative disk there remain hardly any but positive ions, and against a positive disk none but negative; and in effecting a separation of this kind, it will be noticed that condensation by negative ions is easier than by the positive. it is, consequently, possible to cause condensation on negative centres only, and to study separately the phenomena produced by the two kinds of ions. it can thus be verified that they really bear charges equal in absolute value, and these charges can even be estimated, since we already know the number of drops. this estimate can be made, for example, by comparing the speed of the fall of a mist in fields of different values, or, as did j.j. thomson, by measuring the total quantity of electricity liberated throughout the gas. at the degree of approximation which such experiments imply, we find that the charge of a drop, and consequently the charge borne by an ion, is sensibly . x ^{- } electrostatic or . x ^{- } electromagnetic units. this charge is very near that which the study of the phenomena of ordinary electrolysis leads us to attribute to a univalent atom produced by electrolytic dissociation. such a coincidence is evidently very striking; but it will not be the only one, for whatever phenomenon be studied it will always appear that the smallest charge we can conceive as isolated is that mentioned. we are, in fact, in presence of a natural unit, or, if you will, of an atom of electricity. we must, however, guard against the belief that the gaseous ion is identical with the electrolytic ion. sensible differences between those are immediately apparent, and still greater ones will be discovered on closer examination. as m. perrin has shown, the ionisation produced by the x-rays in no way depends on the chemical composition of the gas; and whether we take a volume of gaseous hydrochloric acid or a mixture of hydrogen and chlorine in the same condition, all the results will be identical: and chemical affinities play no part here. we can also obtain other information regarding ions: we can ascertain, for instance, their velocities, and also get an idea of their order of magnitude. by treating the speeds possessed by the liberated charges as components of the known speed of a gaseous current, mr zeleny measures the mobilities, that is to say, the speeds acquired by the positive and negative charges in a field equal to the electrostatic unit. he has thus found that these mobilities are different, and that they vary, for example, between and centimetres per second for the two charges in dry gases, the positive being less mobile than the negative ions, which suggests the idea that they are of greater mass.[ ] [footnote : a full account of these experiments, which were executed at the cavendish laboratory, is to be found in _philosophical transactions_, a., vol. cxcv. ( ), pp. et seq.--ed.] m. langevin, who has made himself the eloquent apostle of the new doctrines in france, and has done much to make them understood and admitted, has personally undertaken experiments analogous to those of m. zeleny, but much more complete. he has studied in a very ingenious manner, not only the mobilities, but also the law of recombination which regulates the spontaneous return of the gas to its normal state. he has determined experimentally the relation of the number of recombinations to the number of collisions between two ions of contrary sign, by studying the variation produced by a change in the value of the field, in the quantity of electricity which can be collected in the gas separating two parallel metallic plates, after the passage through it for a very short time of the röntgen rays emitted during one discharge of a crookes tube. if the image of the ions is indeed conformable to reality, this relation must evidently always be smaller than unity, and must tend towards this value when the mobility of the ions diminishes, that is to say, when the pressure of the gas increases. the results obtained are in perfect accord with this anticipation. on the other hand, m. langevin has succeeded, by following the displacement of the ions between the parallel plates after the ionisation produced by the radiation, in determining the absolute values of the mobilities with great precision, and has thus clearly placed in evidence the irregularity of the mobilities of the positive and negative ions respectively. their mass can be calculated when we know, through experiments of this kind, the speed of the ions in a given field, and on the other hand--as we can now estimate their electric charge--the force which moves them. they evidently progress more slowly the larger they are; and in the viscous medium constituted by the gas, the displacement is effected at a speed sensibly proportional to the motive power. at the ordinary temperature these masses are relatively considerable, and are greater for the positive than for the negative ions, that is to say, they are about the order of some ten molecules. the ions, therefore, seem to be formed by an agglomeration of neutral molecules maintained round an electrified centre by electrostatic attraction. if the temperature rises, the thermal agitation will become great enough to prevent the molecules from remaining linked to the centre. by measurements effected on the gases of flames, we arrive at very different values of the masses from those found for ordinary ions, and above all, very different ones for ions of contrary sign. the negative ions have much more considerable velocities than the positive ones. the latter also seem to be of the same size as atoms; and the first-named must, consequently, be considered as very much smaller, and probably about a thousand times less. thus, for the first time in science, the idea appears that the atom is not the smallest fraction of matter to be considered. fragments a thousand times smaller may exist which possess, however, a negative charge. these are the electrons, which other considerations will again bring to our notice. § . how ions are produced it is very seldom that a gaseous mass does not contain a few ions. they may have been formed from many causes, for although to give precision to our studies, and to deal with a well ascertained case, i mentioned only ionisation by the x rays in the first instance, i ought not to give the impression that the phenomenon is confined to these rays. it is, on the contrary, very general, and ionisation is just as well produced by the cathode rays, by the radiations emitted by radio-active bodies, by the ultra-violet rays, by heating to a high temperature, by certain chemical actions, and finally by the impact of the ions already existing in neutral molecules. of late years these new questions have been the object of a multitude of researches, and if it has not always been possible to avoid some confusion, yet certain general conclusions may be drawn. the ionisation by flames, in particular, is fairly well known. for it to be produced spontaneously, it would appear that there must exist simultaneously a rather high temperature and a chemical action in the gas. according to m. moreau, the ionisation is very marked when the flame contains the vapour of the salt of an alkali or of an alkaline earth, but much less so when it contains that of other salts. arrhenius, mr c.t.r. wilson, and m. moreau, have studied all the circumstances of the phenomenon; and it seems indeed that there is a somewhat close analogy between what first occurs in the saline vapours and that which is noted in liquid electrolytes. there should be produced, as soon as a certain temperature is reached, a dissociation of the saline molecule; and, as m. moreau has shown in a series of very well conducted researches, the ions formed at about °c. seem constituted by an electrified centre of the size of a gas molecule, surrounded by some ten layers of other molecules. we are thus dealing with rather large ions, but according to mr wilson, this condensation phenomenon does not affect the number of ions produced by dissociation. in proportion as the temperature rises, the molecules condensed round the nucleus disappear, and, as in all other circumstances, the negative ion tends to become an electron, while the positive ion continues the size of an atom. in other cases, ions are found still larger than those of saline vapours, as, for example, those produced by phosphorus. it has long been known that air in the neighbourhood of phosphorus becomes a conductor, and the fact, pointed out as far back as by matteucci, has been well studied by various experimenters, by mm. elster and geitel in , for instance. on the other hand, in mr barus established that the approach of a stick of phosphorus brings about the condensation of water vapour, and we really have before us, therefore, in this instance, an ionisation. m. bloch has succeeded in disentangling the phenomena, which are here very complex, and in showing that the ions produced are of considerable dimensions; for their speed in the same conditions is on the average a thousand times less than that of ions due to the x rays. m. bloch has established also that the conductivity of recently-prepared gases, already studied by several authors, was analogous to that which is produced by phosphorus, and that it is intimately connected with the presence of the very tenuous solid or liquid dust which these gases carry with them, while the ions are of the same order of magnitude. these large ions exist, moreover, in small quantities in the atmosphere; and m. langevin lately succeeded in revealing their presence. it may happen, and this not without singularly complicating matters, that the ions which were in the midst of material molecules produce, as the result of collisions, new divisions in these last. other ions are thus born, and this production is in part compensated for by recombinations between ions of opposite signs. the impacts will be more active in the event of the gas being placed in a field of force and of the pressure being slight, the speed attained being then greater and allowing the active force to reach a high value. the energy necessary for the production of an ion is, in fact, according to professor rutherford and professor stark, something considerable, and it much exceeds the analogous force in electrolytic decomposition. it is therefore in tubes of rarefied gas that this ionisation by impact will be particularly felt. this gives us the reason for the aspect presented by geissler tubes. generally, in the case of discharges, new ions produced by the molecules struck come to add themselves to the electrons produced, as will be seen, by the cathode. a full discussion has led to the interpretation of all the known facts, and to our understanding, for instance, why there exist bright or dark spaces in certain regions of the tube. m. pellat, in particular, has given some very fine examples of this concordance between the theory and the facts he has skilfully observed. in all the circumstances, then, in which ions appear, their formation has doubtless been provoked by a mechanism analogous to that of the shock. the x rays, if they are attributable to sudden variations in the ether--that is to say, a variation of the two vectors of hertz-- themselves produce within the atom a kind of electric impulse which breaks it into two electrified fragments; _i.e._ the positive centre, the size of the molecule itself, and the negative centre, constituted by an electron a thousand times smaller. round these two centres, at the ordinary temperature, are agglomerated by attraction other molecules, and in this manner the ions whose properties have just been studied are formed. § . electrons in metals the success of the ionic hypothesis as an interpretation of the conductivity of electrolytes and gases has suggested the desire to try if a similar hypothesis can represent the ordinary conductivity of metals. we are thus led to conceptions which at first sight seem audacious because they are contrary to our habits of mind. they must not, however, be rejected on that account. electrolytic dissociation at first certainly appeared at least as strange; yet it has ended by forcing itself upon us, and we could, at the present day, hardly dispense with the image it presents to us. the idea that the conductivity of metals is not essentially different from that of electrolytic liquids or gases, in the sense that the passage of the current is connected with the transport of small electrified particles, is already of old date. it was enunciated by w. weber, and afterwards developed by giese, but has only obtained its true scope through the effect of recent discoveries. it was the researches of riecke, later, of drude, and, above all, those of j.j. thomson, which have allowed it to assume an acceptable form. all these attempts are connected however with the general theory of lorentz, which we will examine later. it will be admitted that metallic atoms can, like the saline molecule in a solution, partially dissociate themselves. electrons, very much smaller than atoms, can move through the structure, considerable to them, which is constituted by the atom from which they have just been detached. they may be compared to the molecules of a gas which is enclosed in a porous body. in ordinary conditions, notwithstanding the great speed with which they are animated, they are unable to travel long distances, because they quickly find their road barred by a material atom. they have to undergo innumerable impacts, which throw them first in one direction and then in another. the passage of a current is a sort of flow of these electrons in a determined direction. this electric flow brings, however, no modification to the material medium traversed, since every electron which disappears at any point is replaced by another which appears at once, and in all metals the electrons are identical. this hypothesis leads us to anticipate certain facts which experience confirms. thus j.j. thomson shows that if, in certain conditions, a conductor is placed in a magnetic field, the ions have to describe an epicycloid, and their journey is thus lengthened, while the electric resistance must increase. if the field is in the direction of the displacement, they describe helices round the lines of force and the resistance is again augmented, but in different proportions. various experimenters have noted phenomena of this kind in different substances. for a long time it has been noticed that a relation exists between the calorific and the electric conductivity; the relation of these two conductivities is sensibly the same for all metals. the modern theory tends to show simply that it must indeed be so. calorific conductivity is due, in fact, to an exchange of electrons between the hot and the cold regions, the heated electrons having the greater velocity, and consequently the more considerable energy. the calorific exchanges then obey laws similar to those which govern electric exchanges; and calculation even leads to the exact values which the measurements have given.[ ] [footnote : the whole of this argument is brilliantly set forth by professor lorentz in a lecture delivered to the electrotechnikerverein at berlin in december , and reprinted, with additions, in the _archives néerlandaises_ of .--ed.] in the same way professor hesehus has explained how contact electrification is produced, by the tendency of bodies to equalise their superficial properties by means of a transport of electrons, and mr jeans has shown that we should discover the existence of the well-known laws of distribution over conducting bodies in electrostatic equilibrium. a metal can, in fact, be electrified, that is to say, may possess an excess of positive or negative electrons which cannot easily leave it in ordinary conditions. to cause them to do so would need an appreciable amount of work, on account of the enormous difference of the specific inductive capacities of the metal and of the insulating medium in which it is plunged. electrons, however, which, on arriving at the surface of the metal, possessed a kinetic energy superior to this work, might be shot forth and would be disengaged as a vapour escapes from a liquid. now, the number of these rapid electrons, at first very slight, increases, according to the kinetic theory, when the temperature rises, and therefore we must reckon that a wire, on being heated, gives out electrons, that is to say, loses negative electricity and sends into the surrounding media electrified centres capable of producing the phenomena of ionisation. edison, in , showed that from the filament of an incandescent lamp there escaped negative electric charges. since then, richardson and j.j. thomson have examined analogous phenomena. this emission is a very general phenomenon which, no doubt, plays a considerable part in cosmic physics. professor arrhenius explains, for instance, the polar auroras by the action of similar corpuscules emitted by the sun. in other phenomena we seem indeed to be confronted by an emission, not of negative electrons, but of positive ions. thus, when a wire is heated, not _in vacuo_, but in a gas, this wire begins to electrify neighbouring bodies positively. j.j. thomson has measured the mass of these positive ions and finds it considerable, i.e. about times that of an atom of hydrogen. some are even larger, and constitute almost a real grain of dust. we here doubtless meet with the phenomena of disaggregation undergone by metals at a red heat. chapter ix cathode rays and radioactive bodies § . the cathode rays a wire traversed by an electric current is, as has just been explained, the seat of a movement of electrons. if we cut this wire, a flood of electrons, like a current of water which, at the point where a pipe bursts, flows out in abundance, will appear to spring out between the two ends of the break. if the energy of the electrons is sufficient, these electrons will in fact rush forth and be propagated in the air or in the insulating medium interposed; but the phenomena of the discharge will in general be very complex. we shall here only examine a particularly simple case, viz., that of the cathode rays; and without entering into details, we shall only note the results relating to these rays which furnish valuable arguments in favour of the electronic hypothesis and supply solid materials for the construction of new theories of electricity and matter. for a long time it was noticed that the phenomena in a geissler tube changed their aspect considerably, when the gas pressure became very weak, without, however, a complete vacuum being formed. from the cathode there is shot forth normally and in a straight line a flood within the tube, dark but capable of impressing a photographic plate, of developing the fluorescence of various substances (particularly the glass walls of the tube), and of producing calorific and mechanical effects. these are the cathode rays, so named in by e. wiedemann, and their name, which was unknown to a great number of physicists till barely twelve years ago, has become popular at the present day. about , hittorf made an already very complete study of them and put in evidence their principal properties; but it was the researches of sir w. crookes in especial which drew attention to them. the celebrated physicist foresaw that the phenomena which were thus produced in rarefied gases were, in spite of their very great complication, more simple than those presented by matter under the conditions in which it is generally met with. he devised a celebrated theory no longer admissible in its entirety, because it is not in complete accord with the facts, which was, however, very interesting, and contained, in germ, certain of our present ideas. in the opinion of crookes, in a tube in which the gas has been rarefied we are in presence of a special state of matter. the number of the gas molecules has become small enough for their independence to be almost absolute, and they are able in this so-called radiant state to traverse long spaces without departing from a straight line. the cathode rays are due to a kind of molecular bombardment of the walls of the tubes, and of the screens which can be introduced into them; and it is the molecules, electrified by their contact with the cathode and then forcibly repelled by electrostatic action, which produce, by their movement and their _vis viva_, all the phenomena observed. moreover, these electrified molecules animated with extremely rapid velocities correspond, according to the theory verified in the celebrated experiment of rowland on convection currents, to a true electric current, and can be deviated by a magnet. notwithstanding the success of crookes' experiments, many physicists-- the germans especially--did not abandon an hypothesis entirely different from that of radiant matter. they continued to regard the cathode radiation as due to particular radiations of a nature still little known but produced in the luminous ether. this interpretation seemed, indeed, in , destined to triumph definitely through the remarkable discovery of lenard, a discovery which, in its turn, was to provoke so many others and to bring about consequences of which the importance seems every day more considerable. professor lenard's fundamental idea was to study the cathode rays under conditions different from those in which they are produced. these rays are born in a very rarefied space, under conditions perfectly determined by sir w. crookes; but it was a question whether, when once produced, they would be capable of propagating themselves in other media, such as a gas at ordinary pressure, or even in an absolute vacuum. experiment alone could answer this question, but there were difficulties in the way of this which seemed almost insurmountable. the rays are stopped by glass even of slight thickness, and how then could the almost vacuous space in which they have to come into existence be separated from the space, absolutely vacuous or filled with gas, into which it was desired to bring them? the artifice used was suggested to professor lenard by an experiment of hertz. the great physicist had, in fact, shortly before his premature death, taken up this important question of the cathode rays, and his genius left there, as elsewhere, its powerful impress. he had shown that metallic plates of very slight thickness were transparent to the cathode rays; and professor lenard succeeded in obtaining plates impermeable to air, but which yet allowed the pencil of cathode rays to pass through them. now if we take a crookes tube with the extremity hermetically closed by a metallic plate with a slit across the diameter of mm. in width, and stop this slit with a sheet of very thin aluminium, it will be immediately noticed that the rays pass through the aluminium and pass outside the tube. they are propagated in air at atmospheric pressure, and they can also penetrate into an absolute vacuum. they therefore can no longer be attributed to radiant matter, and we are led to think that the energy brought into play in this phenomenon must have its seat in the light-bearing ether itself. but it is a very strange light which is thus subject to magnetic action, which does not obey the principle of equal angles, and for which the most various gases are already disturbed media. according to crookes it possesses also the singular property of carrying with it electric charges. this convection of negative electricity by the cathode rays seems quite inexplicable on the hypothesis that the rays are ethereal radiations. nothing then remained in order to maintain this hypothesis, except to deny the convection, which, besides, was only established by indirect experiments. that the reality of this transport has been placed beyond dispute by means of an extremely elegant experiment which is all the more convincing that it is so very simple, is due to m. perrin. in the interior of a crookes tube he collected a pencil of cathode rays in a metal cylinder. according to the elementary principles of electricity the cylinder must become charged with the whole charge, if there be one, brought to it by the rays, and naturally various precautions had to be taken. but the result was very precise, and doubt could no longer exist--the rays were electrified. it might have been, and indeed was, maintained, some time after this experiment was published, that while the phenomena were complex inside the tube, outside, things might perhaps occur differently. lenard himself, however, with that absence of even involuntary prejudice common to all great minds, undertook to demonstrate that the opinion he at first held could no longer be accepted, and succeeded in repeating the experiment of m. perrin on cathode rays in the air and even _in vacuo_. on the wrecks of the two contradictory hypotheses thus destroyed, and out of the materials from which they had been built, a theory has been constructed which co-ordinates all the known facts. this theory is furthermore closely allied to the theory of ionisation, and, like this latter, is based on the concept of the electron. cathode rays are electrons in rapid motion. the phenomena produced both inside and outside a crookes tube are, however, generally complex. in lenard's first experiments, and in many others effected later when this region of physics was still very little known, a few confusions may be noticed even at the present day. at the spot where the cathode rays strike the walls of the tube the essentially different x rays appear. these differ from the cathode radiations by being neither electrified nor deviated by a magnet. in their turn these x rays may give birth to the secondary rays of m. sagnac; and often we find ourselves in presence of effects from these last-named radiations and not from the true cathode rays. the electrons, when they are propagated in a gas, can ionise the molecules of this gas and unite with the neutral atoms to form negative ions, while positive ions also appear. there are likewise produced, at the expense of the gas still subsisting after rarefication within the tube, positive ions which, attracted by the cathode and reaching it, are not all neutralised by the negative electrons, and can, if the cathode be perforated, pass through it, and if not, pass round it. we have then what are called the canal rays of goldstein, which are deviated by an electric or magnetic field in a contrary direction to the cathode rays; but, being larger, give weak deviations or may even remain undeviated through losing their charge when passing through the cathode. it may also be the parts of the walls at a distance from the cathode which send a positive rush to the latter, by a similar mechanism. it may be, again, that in certain regions of the tube cathode rays are met with diffused by some solid object, without having thereby changed their nature. all these complexities have been cleared up by m. villard, who has published, on these questions, some remarkably ingenious and particularly careful experiments. m. villard has also studied the phenomena of the coiling of the rays in a field, as already pointed out by hittorf and plücker. when a magnetic field acts on the cathode particle, the latter follows a trajectory, generally helicoidal, which is anticipated by the theory. we here have to do with a question of ballistics, and experiments duly confirm the anticipations of the calculation. nevertheless, rather singular phenomena appear in the case of certain values of the field, and these phenomena, dimly seen by plücker and birkeland, have been the object of experiments by m. villard. the two faces of the cathode seem to emit rays which are deviated in a direction perpendicular to the lines of force by an electric field, and do not seem to be electrified. m. villard calls them magneto-cathode rays, and according to m. fortin these rays may be ordinary cathode rays, but of very slight velocity. in certain cases the cathode itself may be superficially disaggregated, and extremely tenuous particles detach themselves, which, being carried off at right angles to its surface, may deposit themselves like a very thin film on objects placed in their path. various physicists, among them m. houllevigue, have studied this phenomenon, and in the case of pressures between / and / of a millimetre, the last-named scholar has obtained mirrors of most metals, a phenomenon he designates by the name of ionoplasty. but in spite of all these accessory phenomena, which even sometimes conceal those first observed, the existence of the electron in the cathodic flux remains the essential characteristic. the electron can be apprehended in the cathodic ray by the study of its essential properties; and j.j. thomson gave great value to the hypothesis by his measurements. at first he meant to determine the speed of the cathode rays by direct experiment, and by observing, in a revolving mirror, the relative displacement of two bands due to the excitement of two fluorescent screens placed at different distances from the cathode. but he soon perceived that the effect of the fluorescence was not instantaneous, and that the lapse of time might form a great source of error, and he then had recourse to indirect methods. it is possible, by a simple calculation, to estimate the deviations produced on the rays by a magnetic and an electric field respectively as a function of the speed of propagation and of the relation of the charge to the material mass of the electron. the measurement of these deviations will then permit this speed and this relation to be ascertained. other processes may be used which all give the same two quantities by two suitably chosen measurements. such are the radius of the curve taken by the trajectory of the pencil in a perpendicular magnetic field and the measure of the fall of potential under which the discharge takes place, or the measure of the total quantity of electricity carried in one second and the measure of the calorific energy which may be given, during the same period, to a thermo-electric junction. the results agree as well as can be expected, having regard to the difficulty of the experiments; the values of the speed agree also with those which professor wiechert has obtained by direct measurement. the speed never depends on the nature of the gas contained in the crookes tube, but varies with the value of the fall of potential at the cathode. it is of the order of one tenth of the speed of light, and it may rise as high as one third. the cathode particle therefore goes about three thousand times faster than the earth in its orbit. the relation is also invariable, even when the substance of which the cathode is formed is changed or one gas is substituted for another. it is, on the average, a thousand times greater than the corresponding relation in electrolysis. as experiment has shown, in all the circumstances where it has been possible to effect measurements, the equality of the charges carried by all corpuscules, ions, atoms, etc., we ought to consider that the charge of the electron is here, again, that of a univalent ion in electrolysis, and therefore that its mass is only a small fraction of that of the atom of hydrogen, viz., of the order of about a thousandth part. this is the same result as that to which we were led by the study of flames. the thorough examination of the cathode radiation, then, confirms us in the idea that every material atom can be dissociated and will yield an electron much smaller than itself--and always identical whatever the matter whence it comes,--the rest of the atom remaining charged with a positive quantity equal and contrary to that borne by the electron. in the present case these positive ions are no doubt those that we again meet with in the canal rays. professor wien has shown that their mass is really, in fact, of the order of the mass of atoms. although they are all formed of identical electrons, there may be various cathode rays, because the velocity is not exactly the same for all electrons. thus is explained the fact that we can separate them and that we can produce a sort of spectrum by the action of the magnet, or, again, as m. deslandres has shown in a very interesting experiment, by that of an electrostatic field. this also probably explains the phenomena studied by m. villard, and previously pointed out. § . radioactive substances even in ordinary conditions, certain substances called radioactive emit, quite outside any particular reaction, radiations complex indeed, but which pass through fairly thin layers of minerals, impress photographic plates, excite fluorescence, and ionize gases. in these radiations we again find electrons which thus escape spontaneously from radioactive bodies. it is not necessary to give here a history of the discovery of radium, for every one knows the admirable researches of m. and madame curie. but subsequent to these first studies, a great number of facts have accumulated for the last six years, among which some people find themselves a little lost. it may, perhaps, not be useless to indicate the essential results actually obtained. the researches on radioactive substances have their starting-point in the discovery of the rays of uranium made by m. becquerel in . as early as niepce de st victor proved that salts of uranium impressed photographic plates in the dark; but at that time the phenomenon could only pass for a singularity attributable to phosphorescence, and the valuable remarks of niepce fell into oblivion. m. becquerel established, after some hesitations natural in the face of phenomena which seemed so contrary to accepted ideas, that the radiating property was absolutely independent of phosphorescence, that all the salts of uranium, even the uranous salts which are not phosphorescent, give similar radiant effects, and that these phenomena correspond to a continuous emission of energy, but do not seem to be the result of a storage of energy under the influence of some external radiation. spontaneous and constant, the radiation is insensible to variations of temperature and light. the nature of these radiations was not immediately understood,[ ] and their properties seemed contradictory. this was because we were not dealing with a single category of rays. but amongst all the effects there is one which constitutes for the radiations taken as a whole, a veritable process for the measurement of radioactivity. this is their ionizing action on gases. a very complete study of the conductivity of air under the influence of rays of uranium has been made by various physicists, particularly by professor rutherford, and has shown that the laws of the phenomenon are the same as those of the ionization due to the action of the röntgen rays. [footnote : in his work on _l'Évolution de la matière_, m. gustave le bon recalls that in he published several notes in the académie des sciences, in which he asserted that the properties of uranium were only a particular case of a very general law, and that the radiations emitted did not polarize, and were akin by their properties to the x rays.] it was natural to ask one's self if the property discovered in salts of uranium was peculiar to this body, or if it were not, to a more or less degree, a general property of matter. madame curie and m. schmidt, independently of each other, made systematic researches in order to solve the question; various compounds of nearly all the simple bodies at present known were thus passed in review, and it was established that radioactivity was particularly perceptible in the compounds of uranium and thorium, and that it was an atomic property linked to the matter endowed with it, and following it in all its combinations. in the course of her researches madame curie observed that certain pitchblendes (oxide of uranium ore, containing also barium, bismuth, etc.) were four times more active (activity being measured by the phenomenon of the ionization of the air) than metallic uranium. now, no compound containing any other active metal than uranium or thorium ought to show itself more active than those metals themselves, since the property belongs to their atoms. it seemed, therefore, probable that there existed in pitchblendes some substance yet unknown, in small quantities and more radioactive than uranium. m. and madame curie then commenced those celebrated experiments which brought them to the discovery of radium. their method of research has been justly compared in originality and importance to the process of spectrum analysis. to isolate a radioactive substance, the first thing is to measure the activity of a certain compound suspected of containing this substance, and this compound is chemically separated. we then again take in hand all the products obtained, and by measuring their activity anew, it is ascertained whether the substance sought for has remained in one of these products, or is divided among them, and if so, in what proportion. the spectroscopic reaction which we may use in the course of this separation is a thousand times less sensitive than observation of the activity by means of the electrometer. though the principle on which the operation of the concentration of the radium rests is admirable in its simplicity, its application is nevertheless very laborious. tons of uranium residues have to be treated in order to obtain a few decigrammes of pure salts of radium. radium is characterised by a special spectrum, and its atomic weight, as determined by madame curie, is ; it is consequently the higher homologue of barium in one of the groups of mendeléef. salts of radium have in general the same chemical properties as the corresponding salts of barium, but are distinguished from them by the differences of solubility which allow of their separation, and by their enormous activity, which is about a hundred thousand times greater than that of uranium. radium produces various chemical and some very intense physiological reactions. its salts are luminous in the dark, but this luminosity, at first very bright, gradually diminishes as the salts get older. we have here to do with a secondary reaction correlative to the production of the emanation, after which radium undergoes the transformations which will be studied later on. the method of analysis founded by m. and madame curie has enabled other bodies presenting sensible radioactivity to be discovered. the alkaline metals appear to possess this property in a slight degree. recently fallen snow and mineral waters manifest marked action. the phenomenon may often be due, however, to a radioactivity induced by radiations already existing in the atmosphere. but this radioactivity hardly attains the ten-thousandth part of that presented by uranium, or the ten-millionth of that appertaining to radium. two other bodies, polonium and actinium, the one characterised by the special nature of the radiations it emits and the other by a particular spectrum, seem likewise to exist in pitchblende. these chemical properties have not yet been perfectly defined; thus m. debierne, who discovered actinium, has been able to note the active property which seems to belong to it, sometimes in lanthanum, sometimes in neodynium.[ ] it is proved that all extremely radioactive bodies are the seat of incessant transformations, and even now we cannot state the conditions under which they present themselves in a strictly determined form. [footnote : polonium has now been shown to be no new element, but one of the transformation products of radium. radium itself is also thought to be derived in some manner, not yet ascertained, from uranium. the same is the case with actinium, which is said to come in the long run from uranium, but not so directly as does radium. all this is described in professor rutherford's _radioactive transformations_ (london, ).--ed.] § . the radiation of the radioactive bodies and the emanation to acquire exact notions as to the nature of the rays emitted by the radioactive bodies, it was necessary to try to cause magnetic or electric forces to act on them so as to see whether they behaved in the same way as light and the x rays, or whether like the cathode rays they were deviated by a magnetic field. this work was effected by professor giesel, then by m. becquerel, professor rutherford, and by many other experimenters after them. all the methods which have already been mentioned in principle have been employed in order to discover whether they were electrified, and, if so, by electricity of what sign, to measure their speed, and to ascertain their degree of penetration. the general result has been to distinguish three sorts of radiations, designated by the letters alpha, beta, gamma. the alpha rays are positively charged, and are projected at a speed which may attain the tenth of that of light; m.h. becquerel has shown by the aid of photography that they are deviated by a magnet, and professor rutherford has, on his side, studied this deviation by the electrical method. the relation of the charge to the mass is, in the case of these rays, of the same order as in that of the ions of electrolysis. they may therefore be considered as exactly analogous to the canal rays of goldstein, and we may attribute them to a material transport of corpuscles of the magnitude of atoms. the relatively considerable size of these corpuscles renders them very absorbable. a flight of a few millimetres in a gas suffices to reduce their number by one-half. they have great ionizing power. the beta rays are on all points similar to the cathode rays; they are, as m. and madame curie have shown, negatively charged, and the charge they carry is always the same. their size is that of the electrons, and their velocity is generally greater than that of the cathode rays, while it may become almost that of light. they have about a hundred times less ionizing power than the alpha rays. the gamma rays were discovered by m. villard.[ ] they may be compared to the x rays; like the latter, they are not deviated by the magnetic field, and are also extremely penetrating. a strip of aluminium five millimetres thick will stop the other kinds, but will allow them to pass. on the other hand, their ionizing power is , times less than that of the alpha rays. [footnote : this is admitted by professor rutherford (_radio-activity_, camb., , p. ) and professor soddy (_radio-activity_, london, , p. ). neither mr whetham, in his recent _development of physical science_ (london, ) nor the hon. r.j. strutt in _the becquerel rays_ (london, same date), both of whom deal with the historical side of the subject, seem to have noticed the fact.--ed.] to these radiations there sometimes are added in the course of experiments secondary radiations analogous to those of m. sagnac, and produced when the alpha, beta, or gamma rays meet various substances. this complication has often led to some errors of observation. phosphorescence and fluorescence seem especially to result from the alpha and beta rays, particularly from the alpha rays, to which belongs the most important part of the total energy of the radiation. sir w. crookes has invented a curious little apparatus, the spinthariscope, which enables us to examine the phosphorescence of the blende excited by these rays. by means of a magnifying glass, a screen covered with sulphide of zinc is kept under observation, and in front of it is disposed, at a distance of about half a millimetre, a fragment of some salt of radium. we then perceive multitudes of brilliant points on the screen, which appear and at once disappear, producing a scintillating effect. it seems probable that every particle falling on the screen produces by its impact a disturbance in the neighbouring region, and it is this disturbance which the eye perceives as a luminous point. thus, says sir w. crookes, each drop of rain falling on the surface of still water is not perceived as a drop of rain, but by reason of the slight splash which it causes at the moment of impact, and which is manifested by ridges and waves spreading themselves in circles. the various radioactive substances do not all give radiations of identical constitution. radium and thorium possess in somewhat large proportions the three kinds of rays, and it is the same with actinium. polonium contains especially alpha rays and a few gamma rays.[ ] in the case of uranium, the alpha rays have extremely slight penetrating power, and cannot even impress photographic plates. but the widest difference between the substances proceeds from the emanation. radium, in addition to the three groups of rays alpha, beta, and gamma, disengages continuously an extremely subtle emanation, seemingly almost imponderable, but which may be, for many reasons, looked upon as a vapour of which the elastic force is extremely feeble. [footnote : it has now been shown that polonium when freshly separated emits beta rays also; see dr logeman's paper in _proceedings of the royal society_, a., th september .--ed.] m. and madame curie discovered as early as that every substance placed in the neighbourhood of radium, itself acquired a radioactivity which persisted for several hours after the removal of the radium. this induced radioactivity seems to be carried to other bodies by the intermediary of a gas. it goes round obstacles, but there must exist between the radium and the substance a free and continuous space for the activation to take place; it cannot, for instance, do so through a wall of glass. in the case of compounds of thorium professor rutherford discovered a similar phenomenon; since then, various physicists, professor soddy, miss brooks, miss gates, m. danne, and others, have studied the properties of these emanations. the substance emanated can neither be weighed nor can its elastic force be ascertained; but its transformations may be followed, as it is luminous, and it is even more certainly characterised by its essential property, i.e. its radioactivity. we also see that it can be decanted like a gas, that it will divide itself between two tubes of different capacity in obedience to the law of mariotte, and will condense in a refrigerated tube in accordance with the principle of watt, while it even complies with the law of gay-lussac. the activity of the emanation vanishes quickly, and at the end of four days it has diminished by one-half. if a salt of radium is heated, the emanation becomes more abundant, and the residue, which, however, does not sensibly diminish in weight, will have lost all its radioactivity, and will only recover it by degrees. professor rutherford, notwithstanding many different attempts, has been unable to make this emanation enter into any chemical reaction. if it be a gaseous body, it must form part of the argon group, and, like its other members, be perfectly inert. by studying the spectrum of the gas disengaged by a solution of salt of radium, sir william ramsay and professor soddy remarked that when the gas is radioactive there are first obtained rays of gases belonging to the argon family, then by degrees, as the activity disappears, the spectrum slowly changes, and finally presents the characteristic aspect of helium. we know that the existence of this gas was first discovered by spectrum analysis in the sun. later its presence was noted in our atmosphere, and in a few minerals which happen to be the very ones from which radium has been obtained. it might therefore have been the case that it pre-existed in the gases extracted from radium; but a remarkable experiment by m. curie and sir james dewar seems to show convincingly that this cannot be so. the spectrum of helium never appears at first in the gas proceeding from pure bromide of radium; but it shows itself, on the other hand, very distinctly, after the radioactive transformations undergone by the salt. all these strange phenomena suggest bold hypotheses, but to construct them with any solidity they must be supported by the greatest possible number of facts. before admitting a definite explanation of the phenomena which have their seat in the curious substances discovered by them, m. and madame curie considered, with a great deal of reason, that they ought first to enrich our knowledge with the exact and precise facts relating to these bodies and to the effects produced by the radiations they emit. thus m. curie particularly set himself to study the manner in which the radioactivity of the emanation is dissipated, and the radioactivity that this emanation can induce on all bodies. the radioactivity of the emanation diminishes in accordance with an exponential law. the constant of time which characterises this decrease is easily and exactly determined, and has a fixed value, independent of the conditions of the experiment as well as of the nature of the gas which is in contact with the radium and becomes charged with the emanation. the regularity of the phenomenon is so great that it can be used to measure time: in seconds[ ] the activity is always reduced one-half. [footnote : according to professor rutherford, in . days.--ed] radioactivity induced on any body which has been for a long time in presence of a salt of radium disappears more rapidly. the phenomenon appears, moreover, more complex, and the formula which expresses the manner in which the activity diminishes must contain two exponentials. to find it theoretically we have to imagine that the emanation first deposits on the body in question a substance which is destroyed in giving birth to a second, this latter disappearing in its turn by generating a third. the initial and final substances would be radioactive, but the intermediary one, not. if, moreover, the bodies acted on are brought to a temperature of over °, they appear to lose by volatilisation certain substances condensed in them, and at the same time their activity disappears. the other radioactive bodies behave in a similar way. bodies which contain actinium are particularly rich in emanations. uranium, on the contrary, has none.[ ] this body, nevertheless, is the seat of transformations comparable to those which the study of emanations reveals in radium; sir w. crookes has separated from uranium a matter which is now called uranium x. this matter is at first much more active than its parent, but its activity diminishes rapidly, while the ordinary uranium, which at the time of the separation loses its activity, regains it by degrees. in the same way, professors rutherford and soddy have discovered a so-called thorium x to be the stage through which ordinary thorium has to pass in order to produce its emanation.[ ] [footnote : professor rutherford has lately stated that uranium may possibly produce an emanation, but that its rate of decay must be too swift for its presence to be verified (see _radioactive transformations_, p. ).--ed.] [footnote : an actinium x was also discovered by professor giesel (_jahrbuch d. radioaktivitat_, i. p. , ). since the above was written, another product has been found to intervene between the x substance and the emanation in the case of actinium and thorium. they have been named radio-actinium and radio-thorium respectively.--ed.] it is not possible to give a complete table which should, as it were, represent the genealogical tree of the various radioactive substances. several authors have endeavoured to do so, but in a premature manner; all the affiliations are not at the present time yet perfectly known, and it will no doubt be acknowledged some day that identical states have been described under different names.[ ] [footnote : such a table is given on p. of rutherford's _radioactive transformations_.--ed.] § . the disaggregation of matter and atomic energy in spite of uncertainties which are not yet entirely removed, it cannot be denied that many experiments render it probable that in radioactive bodies we find ourselves witnessing veritable transformations of matter. professor rutherford, professor soddy, and several other physicists, have come to regard these phenomena in the following way. a radioactive body is composed of atoms which have little stability, and are able to detach themselves spontaneously from the parent substance, and at the same time to divide themselves into two essential component parts, the negative electron and its residue the positive ion. the first-named constitutes the beta, and the second the alpha rays. the emanation is certainly composed of alpha ions with a few molecules agglomerated round them. professor rutherford has, in fact, demonstrated that the emanation is charged with positive electricity; and this emanation may, in turn, be destroyed by giving birth to new bodies. after the loss of the atoms which are carried off by the radiation, the remainder of the body acquires new properties, but it may still be radioactive, and again lose atoms. the various stages that we meet with in the evolution of the radioactive substance or of its emanation, correspond to the various degrees of atomic disaggregation. professors rutherford and soddy have described them clearly in the case of uranium and radium. as regards thorium the results are less satisfactory. the evolution should continue until a stable atomic condition is finally reached, which, because of this stability, is no longer radioactive. thus, for instance, radium would finally be transformed into helium.[ ] [footnote : this opinion, no doubt formed when sir william ramsay's discovery of the formation of helium from the radium emanation was first made known, is now less tenable. the latest theory is that the alpha particle is in fact an atom of helium, and that the final transformation product of radium and the other radioactive substances is lead. cf. rutherford, op. cit. passim.--ed.] it is possible, by considerations analogous to those set forth above in other cases, to arrive at an idea of the total number of particles per second expelled by one gramme of radium; professor rutherford in his most recent evaluation finds that this number approaches . x ^{ }.[ ] by calculating from the atomic weight the number of atoms probably contained in this gramme of radium, and supposing each particle liberated to correspond to the destruction of one atom, it is found that one half of the radium should disappear in years;[ ] and from this we may conceive that it has not yet been possible to discover any sensible loss of weight. sir w. ramsay and professor soddy attained a like result by endeavouring to estimate the mass of the emanation by the quantity of helium produced. [footnote : see _radioactive transformations_ (p. ). professor rutherford says that "each of the alpha ray products present in one gram of radium product (_sic_) expels . x ^{ } alpha particles per second." he also remarks on "the experimental difficulty of accurately determining the number of alpha particles expelled from radium per second."--ed.] [footnote : see rutherford, op. cit. p. .--ed.] if radium transforms itself in such a way that its activity does not persist throughout the ages, it loses little by little the provision of energy it had in the beginning, and its properties furnish no valid argument to oppose to the principle of the conservation of energy. to put everything right, we have only to recognise that radium possessed in the potential state at its formation a finite quantity of energy which is consumed little by little. in the same manner, a chemical system composed, for instance, of zinc and sulphuric acid, also contains in the potential state energy which, if we retard the reaction by any suitable arrangement--such as by amalgamating the zinc and by constituting with its elements a battery which we cause to act on a resistance--may be made to exhaust itself as slowly as one may desire. there can, therefore, be nothing in any way surprising in the fact that a combination which, like the atomic combination of radium, is not stable--since it disaggregates itself,--is capable of spontaneously liberating energy, but what may be a little astonishing, at first sight, is the considerable amount of this energy. m. curie has calculated directly, by the aid of the calorimeter, the quantity of energy liberated, measuring it entirely in the form of heat. the disengagement of heat accounted for in a grain of radium is uniform, and amounts to calories per hour. it must therefore be admitted that an atom of radium, in disaggregating itself, liberates , times more energy than a molecule of hydrogen when the latter combines with an atom of oxygen to form a molecule of water. we may ask ourselves how the atomic edifice of the active body can be constructed, to contain so great a provision of energy. we will remark that such a question might be asked concerning cases known from the most remote antiquity, like that of the chemical systems, without any satisfactory answer ever being given. this failure surprises no one, for we get used to everything--even to defeat. when we come to deal with a new problem we have really no right to show ourselves more exacting; yet there are found persons who refuse to admit the hypothesis of the atomic disaggregation of radium because they cannot have set before them a detailed plan of that complex whole known to us as an atom. the most natural idea is perhaps the one suggested by comparison with those astronomical phenomena where our observation most readily allows us to comprehend the laws of motion. it corresponds likewise to the tendency ever present in the mind of man, to compare the infinitely small with the infinitely great. the atom may be regarded as a sort of solar system in which electrons in considerable numbers gravitate round the sun formed by the positive ion. it may happen that certain of these electrons are no longer retained in their orbit by the electric attraction of the rest of the atom, and may be projected from it like a small planet or comet which escapes towards the stellar spaces. the phenomena of the emission of light compels us to think that the corpuscles revolve round the nucleus with extreme velocities, or at the rate of thousands of billions of evolutions per second. it is easy to conceive from this that, notwithstanding its lightness, an atom thus constituted may possess an enormous energy.[ ] [footnote : this view of the case has been made very clear by m. gustave le bon in _l'Évolution de la matière_ (paris, ). see especially pp. - , where the amount of the supposed intra-atomic energy is calculated.--ed.] other authors imagine that the energy of the corpuscles is principally due to the extremely rapid rotations of those elements on their own axes. lord kelvin lately drew up on another model the plan of a radioactive atom capable of ejecting an electron with a considerable _vis viva_. he supposes a spherical atom formed of concentric layers of positive and negative electricity disposed in such a way that its external action is null, and that, nevertheless, the force emanated from the centre may be repellent for certain values when the electron is within it. the most prudent physicists and those most respectful to established principles may, without any scruples, admit the explanation of the radioactivity of radium by a dislocation of its molecular edifice. the matter of which it is constituted evolves from an admittedly unstable initial state to another stable one. it is, in a way, a slow allotropic transformation which takes place by means of a mechanism regarding which, in short, we have no more information than we have regarding other analogous transformations. the only astonishment we can legitimately feel is derived from the thought that we are suddenly and deeply penetrating to the very heart of things. but those persons who have a little more hardihood do not easily resist the temptation of forming daring generalisations. thus it will occur to some that this property, already discovered in many substances where it exists in more or less striking degree, is, with differences of intensity, common to all bodies, and that we are thus confronted by a phenomenon derived from an essential quality of matter. quite recently, professor rutherford has demonstrated in a fine series of experiments that the alpha particles of radium cease to ionize gases when they are made to lose their velocity, but that they do not on that account cease to exist. it may follow that many bodies emit similar particles without being easily perceived to do so; since the electric action, by which this phenomenon of radioactivity is generally manifested, would, in this case, be but very weak. if we thus believe radioactivity to be an absolutely general phenomenon, we find ourselves face to face with a new problem. the transformation of radioactive bodies can no longer be assimilated to allotropic transformations, since thus no final form could ever be attained, and the disaggregation would continue indefinitely up to the complete dislocation of the atom.[ ] the phenomenon might, it is true, have a duration of perhaps thousands of millions of centuries, but this duration is but a minute in the infinity of time, and matters little. our habits of mind, if we adopt such a conception, will be none the less very deeply disturbed. we shall have to abandon the idea so instinctively dear to us that matter is the most stable thing in the universe, and to admit, on the contrary, that all bodies whatever are a kind of explosive decomposing with extreme slowness. there is in this, whatever may have been said, nothing contrary to any of the principles on which the science of energetics rests; but an hypothesis of this nature carries with it consequences which ought in the highest degree to interest the philosopher, and we all know with what alluring boldness m. gustave le bon has developed all these consequences in his work on the evolution of matter.[ ] [footnote : this is the main contention of m. gustave le bon in his work last quoted.--ed.] [footnote : see last note.--ed.] there is hardly a physicist who does not at the present day adopt in one shape or another the ballistic hypothesis. all new facts are co-ordinated so happily by it, that it more and more satisfies our minds; but it cannot be asserted that it forces itself on our convictions with irresistible weight. another point of view appeared more plausible and simple at the outset, when there seemed reason to consider the energy radiated by radioactive bodies as inexhaustible. it was thought that the source of this energy was to be looked for without the atom, and this idea may perfectly well he maintained at the present day. radium on this hypothesis must be considered as a transformer borrowing energy from the external medium and returning it in the form of radiation. it is not impossible, even, to admit that the energy which the atom of radium withdraws from the surrounding medium may serve to keep up, not only the heat emitted and its complex radiation, but also the dissociation, supposed to be endothermic, of this atom. such seems to be the idea of m. debierne and also of m. sagnac. it does not seem to accord with the experiments that this borrowed energy can be a part of the heat of the ambient medium; and, indeed, such a phenomenon would be contrary to the principle of carnot if we wished (though we have seen how disputable is this extension) to extend this principle to the phenomena which are produced in the very bosom of the atom. we may also address ourselves to a more noble form of energy, and ask ourselves whether we are not, for the first time, in presence of a transformation of gravitational energy. it may be singular, but it is not absurd, to suppose that the unit of mass of radium is not attached to the earth with the same intensity as an inert body. m. sagnac has commenced some experiments, as yet unpublished, in order to study the laws of the fall of a fragment of radium. they are necessarily very delicate, and the energetic and ingenious physicist has not yet succeeded in finishing them.[ ] let us suppose that he succeeds in demonstrating that the intensity of gravity is less for radium than for the platinum or the copper of which the pendulums used to illustrate the law of newton are generally made; it would then be possible still to think that the laws of universal attraction are perfectly exact as regards the stars, and that ponderability is really a particular case of universal attraction, while in the case of radioactive bodies part of the gravitational energy is transformed in the course of its evolution and appears in the form of active radiation. [footnote : in reality m. sagnac operated in the converse manner. he took two equal _weights_ of a salt of radium and a salt of barium, which he made oscillate one after the other in a torsion balance. had the durations of oscillation been different, it might be concluded that the mechanical mass is not the same for radium as for barium.] but for this explanation to be admitted, it would evidently need to be supported by very numerous facts. it might, no doubt, appear still more probable that the energy borrowed from the external medium by radium is one of those still unknown to us, but of which a vague instinct causes us to suspect the existence around us. it is indisputable, moreover, that the atmosphere in all directions is furrowed with active radiations; those of radium may be secondary radiations reflected by a kind of resonance phenomenon. certain experiments by professors elster and geitel, however, are not favourable to this point of view. if an active body be surrounded by a radioactive envelope, a screen should prevent this body from receiving any impression from outside, and yet there is no diminution apparent in the activity presented by a certain quantity of radium when it is lowered to a depth of metres under ground, in a region containing a notable quantity of pitchblende. these negative results are, on the other hand, so many successes for the partisans of the explanation of radioactivity by atomic energy. chapter x the ether and matter § . the relations between the ether and matter for some time past it has been the more or less avowed ambition of physicists to construct with the particles of ether all possible forms of corporeal existence; but our knowledge of the inmost nature of things has hitherto seemed too limited for us to attempt such an enterprise with any chance of success. the electronic hypothesis, however, which has furnished a satisfactory image of the most curious phenomena produced in the bosom of matter, has also led to a more complete electromagnetic theory of the ether than that of maxwell, and this twofold result has given birth to the hope of arriving by means of this hypothesis at a complete co-ordination of the physical world. the phenomena whose study may bring us to the very threshold of the problem, are those in which the connections between matter and the ether appear clearly and in a relatively simple manner. thus in the phenomena of emission, ponderable matter is seen to give birth to waves which are transmitted by the ether, and by the phenomena of absorption it is proved that these waves disappear and excite modifications in the interior of the material bodies which receive them. we here catch in operation actual reciprocal actions and reactions between the ether and matter. if we could thoroughly comprehend these actions, we should no doubt be in a position to fill up the gap which separates the two regions separately conquered by physical science. in recent years numerous researches have supplied valuable materials which ought to be utilized by those endeavouring to construct a theory of radiation. we are, perhaps, still ill informed as to the phenomena of luminescence in which undulations are produced in a complex manner, as in the case of a stick of moist phosphorus which is luminescent in the dark, or in that of a fluorescent screen. but we are very well acquainted with emission or absorption by incandescence, where the only transformation is that of calorific into radiating energy, or _vice versa_. it is in this case alone that can be correctly applied the celebrated demonstration by which kirchhoff established, by considerations borrowed from thermodynamics, the proportional relations between the power of emission and that of absorption. in treating of the measurement of temperature, i have already pointed out the experiments of professors lummer and pringsheim and the theoretical researches of stephan and professor wien. we may consider that at the present day the laws of the radiation of dark bodies are tolerably well known, and, in particular, the manner in which each elementary radiation increases with the temperature. a few doubts, however, subsist with respect to the law of the distribution of energy in the spectrum. in the case of real and solid bodies the results are naturally less simple than in that of dark bodies. one side of the question has been specially studied on account of its great practical interest, that is to say, the fact that the relation of the luminous energy to the total amount radiated by a body varies with the nature of this last; and the knowledge of the conditions under which this relation becomes most considerable led to the discovery of incandescent lighting by gas in the auer-welsbach mantle, and to the substitution for the carbon thread in the electric light bulb of a filament of osmium or a small rod of magnesium, as in the nernst lamp. careful measurements effected by m. fery have furnished, in particular, important information on the radiation of the white oxides; but the phenomena noticed have not yet found a satisfactory interpretation. moreover, the radiation of calorific origin is here accompanied by a more or less important luminescence, and the problem becomes very complex. in the same way that, for the purpose of knowing the constitution of matter, it first occurred to us to investigate gases, which appear to be molecular edifices built on a more simple and uniform plan than solids, we ought naturally to think that an examination of the conditions in which emission and absorption are produced by gaseous bodies might be eminently profitable, and might perhaps reveal the mechanism by which the relations between the molecule of the ether and the molecule of matter might be established. unfortunately, if a gas is not absolutely incapable of emitting some sort of rays by simple heat, the radiation thus produced, no doubt by reason of the slightness of the mass in play, always remains of moderate intensity. in nearly all the experiments, new energies of chemical or electrical origin come into force. on incandescence, luminescence is superposed; and the advantage which might have been expected from the simplicity of the medium vanishes through the complication of the circumstances in which the phenomenon is produced. professor pringsheim has succeeded, in certain cases, in finding the dividing line between the phenomena of luminescence and that of incandescence. thus the former takes a predominating importance when the gas is rendered luminous by electrical discharges, and chemical transformations, especially, play a preponderant rôle in the emission of the spectrum of flames which contain a saline vapour. in all the ordinary experiments of spectrum analysis the laws of kirchhoff cannot therefore be considered as established, and yet the relation between emission and absorption is generally tolerably well verified. no doubt we are here in presence of a kind of resonance phenomenon, the gaseous atoms entering into vibration when solicited by the ether by a motion identical with the one they are capable of communicating to it. if we are not yet very far advanced in the study of the mechanism of the production of the spectrum,[ ] we are, on the other hand, well acquainted with its constitution. the extreme confusion which the spectra of the lines of the gases seemed to present is now, in great part at least, cleared up. balmer gave some time since, in the case of the hydrogen spectrum, an empirical formula which enabled the rays discovered later by an eminent astronomer, m. deslandres, to be represented; but since then, both in the cases of line and band spectra, the labours of professor rydberg, of m. deslandres, of professors kayzer and runge, and of m. thiele, have enabled us to comprehend, in their smallest details, the laws of the distribution of lines and bands. [footnote : many theories as to the cause of the lines and bands of the spectrum have been put forward since this was written, among which that of professor stark (for which see _physikalische zeitschrift_ for , passim) is perhaps the most advanced. that of m. jean becquerel, which would attribute it to the vibration within the atom of both negative and positive electrons, also deserves notice. a popular account of this is given in the _athenæum_ of th april .--ed.] these laws are simple, but somewhat singular. the radiations emitted by a gas cannot be compared to the notes to which a sonorous body gives birth, nor even to the most complicated vibrations of any elastic body. the number of vibrations of the different rays are not the successive multiples of one and the same number, and it is not a question of a fundamental radiation and its harmonics, while--and this is an essential difference--the number of vibrations of the radiation tend towards a limit when the period diminishes infinitely instead of constantly increasing, as would be the case with the vibrations of sound. thus the assimilation of the luminous to the elastic vibration is not correct. once again we find that the ether does not behave like matter which obeys the ordinary laws of mechanics, and every theory must take full account of these curious peculiarities which experiment reveals. another difference, likewise very important, between the luminous and the sonorous vibrations, which also points out how little analogous can be the constitutions of the media which transmit the vibrations, appears in the phenomena of dispersion. the speed of propagation, which, as we have seen when discussing the measurement of the velocity of sound, depends very little on the musical note, is not at all the same in the case of the various radiations which can be propagated in the same substance. the index of refraction varies with the duration of the period, or, if you will, with the length of wave _in vacuo_ which is proportioned to this duration, since _in vacuo_ the speed of propagation is entirely the same for all vibrations. cauchy was the first to propose a theory on which other attempts have been modelled; for example, the very interesting and simple one of briot. this last-named supposed that the luminous vibration could not perceptibly drag with it the molecular material of the medium across which it is propagated, but that matter, nevertheless, reacts on the ether with an intensity proportional to the elongation, in such a manner as tends to bring it back to its position of equilibrium. with this simple hypothesis we can fairly well interpret the phenomena of the dispersion of light in the case of transparent substances; but far from well, as m. carvallo has noted in some extremely careful experiments, the dispersion of the infra-red spectrum, and not at all the peculiarities presented by absorbent substances. m. boussinesq arrives at almost similar results, by attributing dispersion, on the other hand, to the partial dragging along of ponderable matter and to its action on the ether. by combining, in a measure, as was subsequently done by m. boussinesq, the two hypotheses, formulas can be established far better in accord with all the known facts. these facts are somewhat complex. it was at first thought that the index always varied in inverse ratio to the wave-length, but numerous substances have been discovered which present the phenomenon of abnormal dispersion--that is to say, substances in which certain radiations are propagated, on the contrary, the more quickly the shorter their period. this is the case with gases themselves, as demonstrated, for example, by a very elegant experiment of m. becquerel on the dispersion of the vapour of sodium. moreover, it may happen that yet more complications may be met with, as no substance is transparent for the whole extent of the spectrum. in the case of certain radiations the speed of propagation becomes nil, and the index shows sometimes a maximum and sometimes a minimum. all those phenomena are in close relation with those of absorption. it is, perhaps, the formula proposed by helmholtz which best accounts for all these peculiarities. helmholtz came to establish this formula by supposing that there is a kind of friction between the ether and matter, which, like that exercised on a pendulum, here produces a double effect, changing, on the one hand, the duration of this oscillation, and, on the other, gradually damping it. he further supposed that ponderable matter is acted on by elastic forces. the theory of helmholtz has the great advantage of representing, not only the phenomena of dispersion, but also, as m. carvallo has pointed out, the laws of rotatory polarization, its dispersion and other phenomena, among them the dichroism of the rotatory media discovered by m. cotton. in the establishment of these theories, the language of ordinary optics has always been employed. the phenomena are looked upon as due to mechanical deformations or to movements governed by certain forces. the electromagnetic theory leads, as we have seen, to the employment of other images. m.h. poincaré, and, after him, helmholtz, have both proposed electromagnetic theories of dispersion. on examining things closely, it will be found that there are not, in truth, in the two ways of regarding the problem, two equivalent translations of exterior reality. the electrical theory gives us to understand, much better than the mechanical one, that _in vacuo_ the dispersion ought to be strictly null, and this absence of dispersion appears to be confirmed with extraordinary precision by astronomical observations. thus the observation, often repeated, and at different times of year, proves that in the case of the star algol, the light of which takes at least four years to reach us, no sensible difference in coloration accompanies the changes in brilliancy. § . the theory of lorentz purely mechanical considerations have therefore failed to give an entirely satisfactory interpretation of the phenomena in which even the simplest relations between matter and the ether appear. they would, evidently, be still more insufficient if used to explain certain effects produced on matter by light, which could not, without grave difficulties, be attributed to movement; for instance, the phenomena of electrification under the influence of certain radiations, or, again, chemical reactions such as photographic impressions. the problem had to be approached by another road. the electromagnetic theory was a step in advance, but it comes to a standstill, so to speak, at the moment when the ether penetrates into matter. if we wish to go deeper into the inwardness of the phenomena, we must follow, for example, professor lorentz or dr larmor, and look with them for a mode of representation which appears, besides, to be a natural consequence of the fundamental ideas forming the basis of hertz's experiments. the moment we look upon a wave in the ether as an electromagnetic wave, a molecule which emits light ought to be considered as a kind of excitant. we are thus led to suppose that in each radiating molecule there are one or several electrified particles, animated with a to-and-fro movement round their positions of equilibrium, and these particles are certainly identical with those electrons the existence of which we have already admitted for so many other reasons. in the simplest theory, we will imagine an electron which may be displaced from its position of equilibrium in all directions, and is, in this displacement, submitted to attractions which communicate to it a vibration like a pendulum. these movements are equivalent to tiny currents, and the mobile electron, when animated with a considerable velocity, must be sensitive to the action of the magnet which modifies the form of the trajectory and the value of the period. this almost direct consequence was perceived by lorentz, and it led him to the new idea that radiations emitted by a body ought to be modified by the action of a strong electromagnet. an experiment enabled this prevision to be verified. it was made, as is well known, as early as by zeeman; and the discovery produced a legitimate sensation. when a flame is subjected to the action of a magnetic field, a brilliant line is decomposed in conditions more or less complex which an attentive study, however, allows us to define. according to whether the observation is made in a plane normal to the magnetic field or in the same direction, the line transforms itself into a triplet or doublet, and the new lines are polarized rectilinearly or circularly. these are the precise phenomena which the calculation foretells: the analysis of the modifications undergone by the light supplies, moreover, valuable information on the electron itself. from the direction of the circular vibrations of the greatest frequency we can determine the sign of the electric charge in motion and we find it to be negative. but, further than this, from the variation of the period we can calculate the relation of the force acting on the electron to its material mass, and, in addition, the relation of the charge to the mass. we then find for this relation precisely that value which we have already met with so many times. such a coincidence cannot be fortuitous, and we have the right to believe that the electron revealed by the luminous wave which emanates from it, is really the same as the one made known to us by the study of the cathode rays and of the radioactive substances. however, the elementary theory does not suffice to interpret the complications which later experiments have revealed. the physicists most qualified to effect measurements in these delicate optical questions--m. cornu, mr preston, m. cotton, mm. becquerel and deslandres, m. broca, professor michelson, and others--have pointed out some remarkable peculiarities. thus in some cases the number of the component rays dissociated by the magnetic field may be very considerable. the great modification brought to a radiation by the zeeman effect may, besides, combine itself with other phenomena, and alter the light in a still more complicated manner. a pencil of polarized light, as demonstrated by signori macaluzo and corbino, undergoes, in a magnetic field, modifications with regard to absorption and speed of propagation. some ingenious researches by m. becquerel and m. cotton have perfectly elucidated all these complications from an experimental point of view. it would not be impossible to link together all these phenomena without adopting the electronic hypothesis, by preserving the old optical equations as modified by the terms relating to the action of the magnetic field. this has actually been done in some very remarkable work by m. voigt, but we may also, like professor lorentz, look for more general theories, in which the essential image of the electrons shall be preserved, and which will allow all the facts revealed by experiment to be included. we are thus led to the supposition that there is not in the atom one vibrating electron only, but that there is to be found in it a dynamical system comprising several material points which may be subjected to varied movements. the neutral atom may therefore be considered as composed of an immovable principal portion positively charged, round which move, like satellites round a planet, several negative electrons of very inferior mass. this conclusion leads us to an interpretation in agreement with that which other phenomena have already suggested. these electrons, which thus have a variable velocity, generate around themselves a transverse electromagnetic wave which is propagated with the velocity of light; for the charged particle becomes, as soon as it experiences a change of speed, the centre of a radiation. thus is explained the phenomenon of the emission of radiations. in the same way, the movement of electrons may be excited or modified by the electrical forces which exist in any pencil of light they receive, and this pencil may yield up to them a part of the energy it is carrying. this is the phenomenon of absorption. professor lorentz has not contented himself with thus explaining all the mechanism of the phenomena of emission and absorption. he has endeavoured to rediscover, by starting with the fundamental hypothesis, the quantitative laws discovered by thermodynamics. he succeeds in showing that, agreeably to the law of kirchhoff, the relation between the emitting and the absorbing power must be independent of the special properties of the body under observation, and he thus again meets with the laws of planck and of wien: unfortunately the calculation can only be made in the case of great wave-lengths, and grave difficulties exist. thus it cannot be very clearly explained why, by heating a body, the radiation is displaced towards the side of the short wave-lengths, or, if you will, why a body becomes luminous from the moment its temperature has reached a sufficiently high degree. on the other hand, by calculating the energy of the vibrating particles we are again led to attribute to these particles the same constitution as that of the electrons. it is in the same way possible, as professor lorentz has shown, to give a very satisfactory explanation of the thermo-electric phenomena by supposing that the number of liberated electrons which exist in a given metal at a given temperature has a determined value varying with each metal, and is, in the case of each body, a function of the temperature. the formula obtained, which is based on these hypotheses, agrees completely with the classic results of clausius and of lord kelvin. finally, if we recollect that the phenomena of electric and calorific conductivity are perfectly interpreted by the hypothesis of electrons, it will no longer be possible to contest the importance of a theory which allows us to group together in one synthesis so many facts of such diverse origins. if we study the conditions under which a wave excited by an electron's variations in speed can be transmitted, they again bring us face to face, and generally, with the results pointed out by the ordinary electromagnetic theory. certain peculiarities, however, are not absolutely the same. thus the theory of lorentz, as well as that of maxwell, leads us to foresee that if an insulating mass be caused to move in a magnetic field normally to its lines of force, a displacement will be produced in this mass analogous to that of which faraday and maxwell admitted the existence in the dielectric of a charged condenser. but m.h. poincaré has pointed out that, according as we adopt one or other of these authors' points of view, so the value of the displacement differs. this remark is very important, for it may lead to an experiment which would enable us to make a definite choice between the two theories. to obtain the displacement estimated according to lorentz, we must multiply the displacement calculated according to hertz by a factor representing the relation between the difference of the specific inductive capacities of the dielectric and of a vacuum, and the first of these powers. if therefore we take as dielectric the air of which the specific inductive capacity is perceptibly the same as that of a vacuum, the displacement, according to the idea of lorentz, will be null; while, on the contrary, according to hertz, it will have a finite value. m. blondlot has made the experiment. he sent a current of air into a condenser placed in a magnetic field, and was never able to notice the slightest trace of electrification. no displacement, therefore, is effected in the dielectric. the experiment being a negative one, is evidently less convincing than one giving a positive result, but it furnishes a very powerful argument in favour of the theory of lorentz. this theory, therefore, appears very seductive, yet it still raises objections on the part of those who oppose to it the principles of ordinary mechanics. if we consider, for instance, a radiation emitted by an electron belonging to one material body, but absorbed by another electron in another body, we perceive immediately that, the propagation not being instantaneous, there can be no compensation between the action and the reaction, which are not simultaneous; and the principle of newton thus seems to be attacked. in order to preserve its integrity, it has to be admitted that the movements in the two material substances are compensated by that of the ether which separates these substances; but this conception, although in tolerable agreement with the hypothesis that the ether and matter are not of different essence, involves, on a closer examination, suppositions hardly satisfactory as to the nature of movements in the ether. for a long time physicists have admitted that the ether as a whole must be considered as being immovable and capable of serving, so to speak, as a support for the axes of galileo, in relation to which axes the principle of inertia is applicable,--or better still, as m. painlevé has shown, they alone allow us to render obedience to the principle of causality. but if it were so, we might apparently hope, by experiments in electromagnetism, to obtain absolute motion, and to place in evidence the translation of the earth relatively to the ether. but all the researches attempted by the most ingenious physicists towards this end have always failed, and this tends towards the idea held by many geometricians that these negative results are not due to imperfections in the experiments, but have a deep and general cause. now lorentz has endeavoured to find the conditions in which the electromagnetic theory proposed by him might agree with the postulate of the complete impossibility of determining absolute motion. it is necessary, in order to realise this concord, to imagine that a mobile system contracts very slightly in the direction of its translation to a degree proportioned to the square of the ratio of the velocity of transport to that of light. the electrons themselves do not escape this contraction, although the observer, since he participates in the same motion, naturally cannot notice it. lorentz supposes, besides, that all forces, whatever their origin, are affected by a translation in the same way as electromagnetic forces. m. langevin and m. h. poincaré have studied this same question and have noted with precision various delicate consequences of it. the singularity of the hypotheses which we are thus led to construct in no way constitutes an argument against the theory of lorentz; but it has, we must acknowledge, discouraged some of the more timid partisans of this theory.[ ] [footnote : an objection not here noticed has lately been formulated with much frankness by professor lorentz himself. it is one of the pillars of his theory that only the negative electrons move when an electric current passes through a metal, and that the positive electrons (if any such there be) remain motionless. yet in the experiment known as hall's, the current is deflected by the magnetic field to one side of the strip in certain metals, and to the opposite side in others. this seems to show that in certain cases the positive electrons move instead of the negative, and professor lorentz confesses that up to the present he can find no valid argument against this. see _archives néerlandaises_ , parts and .--ed.] § . the mass of electrons other conceptions, bolder still, are suggested by the results of certain interesting experiments. the electron affords us the possibility of considering inertia and mass to be no longer a fundamental notion, but a consequence of the electromagnetic phenomena. professor j.j. thomson was the first to have the clear idea that a part, at least, of the inertia of an electrified body is due to its electric charge. this idea was taken up and precisely stated by professor max abraham, who, for the first time, was led to regard seriously the seemingly paradoxical notion of mass as a function of velocity. consider a small particle bearing a given electric charge, and let us suppose that this particle moves through the ether. it is, as we know, equivalent to a current proportional to its velocity, and it therefore creates a magnetic field the intensity of which is likewise proportional to its velocity: to set it in motion, therefore, there must be communicated to it over and above the expenditure corresponding to the acquisition of its ordinary kinetic energy, a quantity of energy proportional to the square of its velocity. everything, therefore, takes place as if, by the fact of electrification, its capacity for kinetic energy and its material mass had been increased by a certain constant quantity. to the ordinary mass may be added, if you will, an electromagnetic mass. this is the state of things so long as the speed of the translation of the particle is not very great, but they are no longer quite the same when this particle is animated with a movement whose rapidity becomes comparable to that with which light is propagated. the magnetic field created is then no longer a field in repose, but its energy depends, in a complicated manner, on the velocity, and the apparent increase in the mass of the particle itself becomes a function of the velocity. more than this, this increase may not be the same for the same velocity, but varies according to whether the acceleration is parallel with or perpendicular to the direction of this velocity. in other words, there seems to be a longitudinal; and a transversal mass which need not be the same. all these results would persist even if the material mass were very small relatively to the electromagnetic mass; and the electron possesses some inertia even if its ordinary mass becomes slighter and slighter. the apparent mass, it can be easily shown, increases indefinitely when the velocity with which the electrified particle is animated tends towards the velocity of light, and thus the work necessary to communicate such a velocity to an electron would be infinite. it is in consequence impossible that the speed of an electron, in relation to the ether, can ever exceed, or even permanently attain to, , kilometres per second. all the facts thus predicted by the theory are confirmed by experiment. there is no known process which permits the direct measurement of the mass of an electron, but it is possible, as we have seen, to measure simultaneously its velocity and the relation of the electric charge to its mass. in the case of the cathode rays emitted by radium, these measurements are particularly interesting, for the reason that the rays which compose a pencil of cathode rays are animated by very different speeds, as is shown by the size of the stain produced on a photographic plate by a pencil of them at first very constricted and subsequently dispersed by the action of an electric or magnetic field. professor kaufmann has effected some very careful experiments by a method he terms the method of crossed spectra, which consists in superposing the deviations produced by a magnetic and an electric field respectively acting in directions at right angles one to another. he has thus been enabled by working _in vacuo_ to register the very different velocities which, starting in the case of certain rays from about seven-tenths of the velocity of light, attain in other cases to ninety-five hundredths of it. it is thus noted that the ratio of charge to mass--which for ordinary speeds is constant and equal to that already found by so many experiments--diminishes slowly at first, and then very rapidly when the velocity of the ray increases and approaches that of light. if we represent this variation by a curve, the shape of this curve inclines us to think that the ratio tends toward zero when the velocity tends towards that of light. all the earlier experiments have led us to consider that the electric charge was the same for all electrons, and it can hardly be conceived that this charge can vary with the velocity. for in order that the relation, of which one of the terms remains fixed, should vary, the other term necessarily cannot remain constant. the experiments of professor kaufmann, therefore, confirm the previsions of max abraham's theory: the mass depends on the velocity, and increases indefinitely in proportion as this velocity approaches that of light. these experiments, moreover, allow the numerical results of the calculation to be compared with the values measured. this very satisfactory comparison shows that the apparent total mass is sensibly equal to the electromagnetic mass; the material mass of the electron is therefore nil, and the whole of its mass is electromagnetic. thus the electron must be looked upon as a simple electric charge devoid of matter. previous examination has led us to attribute to it a mass a thousand times less that that of the atom of hydrogen, and a more attentive study shows that this mass was fictitious. the electromagnetic phenomena which are produced when the electron is set in motion or a change effected in its velocity, simply have the effect, as it were, of simulating inertia, and it is the inertia due to the charge which has caused us to be thus deluded. the electron is therefore simply a small volume determined at a point in the ether, and possessing special properties;[ ] this point is propagated with a velocity which cannot exceed that of light. when this velocity is constant, the electron creates around it in its passage an electric and a magnetic field; round this electrified centre there exists a kind of wake, which follows it through the ether and does not become modified so long as the velocity remains invariable. if other electrons follow the first within a wire, their passage along the wire will be what is called an electric current. [footnote : this cannot be said to be yet completely proved. _cf_. sir oliver lodge, _electrons_, london, , p. .--ed.] when the electron is subjected to an acceleration, a transverse wave is produced, and an electromagnetic radiation is generated, of which the character may naturally change with the manner in which the speed varies. if the electron has a sufficiently rapid periodical movement, this wave is a light wave; while if the electron stops suddenly, a kind of pulsation is transmitted through the ether, and thus we obtain röntgen rays. § . new views on the constitution of the ether and of matter new and valuable information is thus afforded us regarding the properties of the ether, but will this enable us to construct a material representation of this medium which fills the universe, and so to solve a problem which has baffled, as we have seen, the prolonged efforts of our predecessors? certain scholars seem to have cherished this hope. dr. larmor in particular, as we have seen, has proposed a most ingenious image, but one which is manifestly insufficient. the present tendency of physicists rather tends to the opposite view; since they consider matter as a very complex object, regarding which we wrongly imagine ourselves to be well informed because we are so much accustomed to it, and its singular properties end by seeming natural to us. but in all probability the ether is, in its objective reality, much more simple, and has a better right to be considered as fundamental. we cannot therefore, without being very illogical, define the ether by material properties, and it is useless labour, condemned beforehand to sterility, to endeavour to determine it by other qualities than those of which experiment gives us direct and exact knowledge. the ether is defined when we know, in all its points, and in magnitude and in direction, the two fields, electric and magnetic, which may exist in it. these two fields may vary; we speak from habit of a movement propagated in the ether, but the phenomenon within the reach of experiment is the propagation of these variations. since the electrons, considered as a modification of the ether symmetrically distributed round a point, perfectly counterfeit that inertia which is the fundamental property of matter, it becomes very tempting to suppose that matter itself is composed of a more or less complex assemblage of electrified centres in motion. this complexity is, in general, very great, as is demonstrated by the examination of the luminous spectra produced by the atoms, and it is precisely because of the compensations produced between the different movements that the essential properties of matter--the law of the conservation of inertia, for example--are not contrary to the hypothesis. the forces of cohesion thus would be due to the mutual attractions which occur in the electric and magnetic fields produced in the interior of bodies; and it is even conceivable that there may be produced, under the influence of these actions, a tendency to determine orientation, that is to say, that a reason can be seen why matter may be crystallised.[ ] [footnote : the reader should, however, be warned that a theory has lately been put forth which attempts to account for crystallisation on purely mechanical grounds. see messrs barlow and pope's "development of the atomic theory" in the _transactions of the chemical society_, .--ed.] all the experiments effected on the conductivity of gases or metals, and on the radiations of active bodies, have induced us to regard the atom as being constituted by a positively charged centre having practically the same magnitude as the atom itself, round which the electrons gravitate; and it might evidently be supposed that this positive centre itself preserves the fundamental characteristics of matter, and that it is the electrons alone which no longer possess any but electromagnetic mass. we have but little information concerning these positive particles, though they are met with in an isolated condition, as we have seen, in the canal rays or in the x rays.[ ] it has not hitherto been possible to study them so successfully as the electrons themselves; but that their magnitude causes them to produce considerable perturbations in the bodies on which they fall is manifest by the secondary emissions which complicate and mask the primitive phenomenon. there are, however, strong reasons for thinking that these positive centres are not simple. thus professor stark attributes to them, with experiments in proof of his opinion, the emission of the spectra of the rays in geissler tubes, and the complexity of the spectrum discloses the complexity of the centre. besides, certain peculiarities in the conductivity of metals cannot be explained without a supposition of this kind. so that the atom, deprived of the cathode corpuscle, would be still liable to decomposition into elements analogous to electrons and positively charged. consequently nothing prevents us supposing that this centre likewise simulates inertia by its electromagnetic properties, and is but a condition localised in the ether. [footnote : there is much reason for thinking that the canal rays do not contain positive particles alone, but are accompanied by negative electrons of slow velocity. the x rays are thought, as has been said above, to contain neither negative nor positive particles, but to be merely pulses in the ether.--ed.] however this may be, the edifice thus constructed, being composed of electrons in periodical motion, necessarily grows old. the electrons become subject to accelerations which produce a radiation towards the exterior of the atom; and certain of them may leave the body, while the primitive stability is, in the end, no longer assured, and a new arrangement tends to be formed. matter thus seems to us to undergo those transformations of which the radio-active bodies have given us such remarkable examples. we have already had, in fragments, these views on the constitution of matter; a deeper study of the electron thus enables us to take up a position from which we obtain a sharp, clear, and comprehensive grasp of the whole and a glimpse of indefinite horizons. it would be advantageous, however, in order to strengthen this position, that a few objections which still menace it should be removed. the instability of the electron is not yet sufficiently demonstrated. how is it that its charge does not waste itself away, and what bonds assure the permanence of its constitution? on the other hand, the phenomena of gravitation remain a mystery. lorentz has endeavoured to build up a theory in which he explains attraction by supposing that two charges of similar sign repel each other in a slightly less degree than that in which two charges, equal but of contrary sign, attract each other, the difference being, however, according to the calculation, much too small to be directly observed. he has also sought to explain gravitation by connecting it with the pressures which may be produced on bodies by the vibratory movements which form very penetrating rays. recently m. sutherland has imagined that attraction is due to the difference of action in the convection currents produced by the positive and negative corpuscles which constitute the atoms of the stars, and are carried along by the astronomical motions. but these hypotheses remain rather vague, and many authors think, like m. langevin, that gravitation must result from some mode of activity of the ether totally different from the electromagnetic mode. chapter xi the future of physics it would doubtless be exceedingly rash, and certainly very presumptuous, to seek to predict the future which may be reserved for physics. the rôle of prophet is not a scientific one, and the most firmly established previsions of to-day may be overthrown by the reality of to-morrow. nevertheless, the physicist does not shun an extrapolation of some little scope when it is not too far from the realms of experiment; the knowledge of the evolution accomplished of late years authorises a few suppositions as to the direction in which progress may continue. the reader who has deigned to follow me in the rapid excursion we have just made through the domain of the science of nature, will doubtless bring back with him from his short journey the general impression that the ancient limits to which the classic treatises still delight in restricting the divers chapters of physics, are trampled down in all directions. the fine straight roads traced out by the masters of the last century, and enlarged and levelled by the labour of such numbers of workmen, are now joined together by a crowd of small paths which furrow the field of physics. it is not only because they cover regions as yet little explored where discoveries are more abundant and more easy, that these cross-cuts are so frequent, but also because a higher hope guides the seekers who engage in these new routes. in spite of the repeated failures which have followed the numerous attempts of past times, the idea has not been abandoned of one day conquering the supreme principle which must command the whole of physics. some physicists, no doubt, think such a synthesis to be impossible of realisation, and that nature is infinitely complex; but, notwithstanding all the reserves they may make, from the philosophical point of view, as to the legitimacy of the process, they do not hesitate to construct general hypotheses which, in default of complete mental satisfaction, at least furnish them with a highly convenient means of grouping an immense number of facts till then scattered abroad. their error, if error there be, is beneficial, for it is one of those that kant would have classed among the fruitful illusions which engender the indefinite progress of science and lead to great and important co-ordinations. it is, naturally, by the study of the relations existing between phenomena apparently of very different orders that there can be any hope of reaching the goal; and it is this which justifies the peculiar interest accorded to researches effected in the debatable land between domains hitherto considered as separate. among all the theories lately proposed, that of the ions has taken a preponderant place; ill understood at first by some, appearing somewhat singular, and in any case useless, to others, it met at its inception, in france at least, with only very moderate favour. to-day things have greatly changed, and those even who ignored it have been seduced by the curious way in which it adapts itself to the interpretation of the most recent experiments on very different subjects. a very natural reaction has set in; and i might almost say that a question of fashion has led to some exaggerations. the electron has conquered physics, and many adore the new idol rather blindly. certainly we can only bow before an hypothesis which enables us to group in the same synthesis all the discoveries on electric discharges and on radioactive substances, and which leads to a satisfactory theory of optics and of electricity; while by the intermediary of radiating heat it seems likely to embrace shortly the principles of thermodynamics also. certainly one must admire the power of a creed which penetrates also into the domain of mechanics and furnishes a simple representation of the essential properties of matter; but it is right not to lose sight of the fact that an image may be a well-founded appearance, but may not be capable of being exactly superposed on the objective reality. the conception of the atom of electricity, the foundation of the material atoms, evidently enables us to penetrate further into nature's secrets than our predecessors; but we must not be satisfied with words, and the mystery is not solved when, by a legitimate artifice, the difficulty has simply been thrust further back. we have transferred to an element ever smaller and smaller those physical qualities which in antiquity were attributed to the whole of a substance; and then we shifted them later to those chemical atoms which, united together, constitute this whole. to-day we pass them on to the electrons which compose these atoms. the indivisible is thus rendered, in a way, smaller and smaller, but we are still unacquainted with what its substance may be. the notion of an electric charge which we substitute for that of a material mass will permit phenomena to be united which we thought separate, but it cannot be considered a definite explanation, or as the term at which science must stop. it is probable, however, that for a few years still physics will not travel beyond it. the present hypothesis suffices for grouping known facts, and it will doubtless enable many more to be foreseen, while new successes will further increase its possessions. then the day will arrive when, like all those which have shone before it, this seductive hypothesis will lead to more errors than discoveries. it will, however, have been improved, and it will have become a very vast and very complete edifice which some will not willingly abandon; for those who have made to themselves a comfortable dwelling-place on the ruins of ancient monuments are often too loth to leave it. in that day the searchers who were in the van of the march after truth will be caught up and even passed by others who will have followed a longer, but perhaps surer road. we also have seen at work those prudent physicists who dreaded too daring creeds, and who sought only to collect all the documentary evidence possible, or only took for their guide a few principles which were to them a simple generalisation of facts established by experiments; and we have been able to prove that they also were effecting good and highly useful work. neither the former nor the latter, however, carry out their work in an isolated way, and it should be noted that most of the remarkable results of these last years are due to physicists who have known how to combine their efforts and to direct their activity towards a common object, while perhaps it may not be useless to observe also that progress has been in proportion to the material resources of our laboratories. it is probable that in the future, as in the past, the greatest discoveries, those which will suddenly reveal totally unknown regions, and open up entirely new horizons, will be made by a few scholars of genius who will carry on their patient labour in solitary meditation, and who, in order to verify their boldest conceptions, will no doubt content themselves with the most simple and least costly experimental apparatus. yet for their discoveries to yield their full harvest, for the domain to be systematically worked and desirable results obtained, there will be more and more required the association of willing minds, the solidarity of intelligent scholars, and it will be also necessary for these last to have at their disposal the most delicate as well as the most powerful instruments. these are conditions paramount at the present day for continuous progress in experimental science. if, as has already happened, unfortunately, in the history of science, these conditions are not complied with; if the freedoms of the workers are trammelled, their unity disturbed, and if material facilities are too parsimoniously afforded them,--evolution, at present so rapid, may be retarded, and those retrogressions which, by-the-by, have been known in all evolutions, may occur, although even then hope in the future would not be abolished for ever. there are no limits to progress, and the field of our investigations has no boundaries. evolution will continue with invincible force. what we to-day call the unknowable, will retreat further and further before science, which will never stay her onward march. thus physics will give greater and increasing satisfaction to the mind by furnishing new interpretations of phenomena; but it will accomplish, for the whole of society, more valuable work still, by rendering, by the improvements it suggests, life every day more easy and more agreeable, and by providing mankind with weapons against the hostile forces of nature. none none this ebook includes papers or speeches by james clerk maxwell. the contents are: foramen centrale theory of compound colours poinsot's theory address to the mathematical introductory lecture on the unequal sensibility of the foramen centrale to light of different colours. james clerk maxwell [from the _report of the british association_, .] when observing the spectrum formed by looking at a long ve rtical slit through a simple prism, i noticed an elongated dark spot running up and down in the blue, and following the motion of the eye as it moved _up and down_ the spectrum, but refusing to pass out of the blue into the other colours. it was plain that the spot belonged both to the eye and to the blue part of the spectrum. the result to which i have come is, that the appearance is due to the yellow spot on the retina, commonly called the _foramen centrale_ of soemmering. the most convenient method of observing the spot is by presenting to the eye in not too rapid succession, blue and yellow glasses, or, still better, allowing blue and yellow papers to revolve slowly before the eye. in this way the spot is seen in the blue. it fades rapidly, but is renewed every time the yellow comes in to relieve the effect of the blue. by using a nicol's prism along with this apparatus, the brushes of haidinger are well seen in connexion with the spot, and the fact of the brushes being the spot analysed by polarized light becomes evident. if we look steadily at an object behind a series of bright bars which move in front of it, we shall see a curious bending of the bars as they come up to the place of the yellow spot. the part which comes over the spot seems to start in advance of the rest of the bar, and this would seem to indicate a greater rapidity of sensation at the yellow spot than in the surrounding retina. but i find the experiment difficult, and i hope for better results from more accurate observers. on the theory of compound colours with reference to mixtures of blue and yellow light. james clerk maxwell [from the _report of the british association_, .] when we mix together blue and yellow paint, we obtain green paint. this fact is well known to all who have handled colours; and it is universally admitted that blue and yellow make green. red, yellow, and blue, being the primary colours among painters, green is regarded as a secondary colour, arising from the mixture of blue and yellow. newton, however, found that the green of the spectrum was not the same thing as the mixture of two colours of the spectrum, for such a mixture could be separated by the prism, while the green of the spectrum resisted further decomposition. but still it was believed that yellow and blue would make a green, though not that of the spectrum. as far as i am aware, the first experiment on the subject is that of m. plateau, who, before , made a disc with alternate sectors of prussian blue and gamboge, and observed that, when spinning, the resultant tint was not green, but a neutral gray, inclining sometimes to yellow or blue, but never to green. prof. j. d. forbes of edinburgh made similar experiments in , with the same result. prof. helmholtz of konigsberg, to whom we owe the most complete investigation on visible colour, has given the true explanation of this phenomenon. the result of mixing two coloured powders is not by any means the same as mixing the beams of light which flow from each separately. in the latter case we receive all the light which comes either from the one powder or the other. in the former, much of the light coming from one powder falls on particles of the other, and we receive only that portion which has escaped absorption by one or other. thus the light coming from a mixture of blue and yellow powder, consists partly of light coming directly from blue particles or yellow particles, and partly of light acted on by both blue and yellow particles. this latter light is green, since the blue stops the red, yellow, and orange, and the yellow stops the blue and violet. i have made experiments on the mixture of blue and yellow light--by rapid rotation, by combined reflexion and transmission, by viewing them out of focus, in stripes, at a great distance, by throwing the colours of the spectrum on a screen, and by receiving them into the eye directly; and i have arranged a portable apparatus by which any one may see the result of this or any other mixture of the colours of the spectrum. in all these cases blue and yellow do not make green. i have also made experiments on the mixture of coloured powders. those which i used principally were "mineral blue" (from copper) and "chrome-yellow." other blue and yellow pigments gave curious results, but it was more difficult to make the mixtures, and the greens were less uniform in tint. the mixtures of these colours were made by weight, and were painted on discs of paper, which were afterwards treated in the manner described in my paper "on colour as perceived by the eye," in the _transactions of the royal society of edinburgh_, vol. xxi. part . the visible effect of the colour is estimated in terms of the standard-coloured papers:--vermilion (v), ultramarine (u), and emerald-green (e). the accuracy of the results, and their significance, can be best understood by referring to the paper before mentioned. i shall denote mineral blue by b, and chrome-yellow by y; and b y means a mixture of three parts blue and five parts yellow. given colour. standard colours. coefficient v. u. e. of brightness. b , = ............ 		 b y , = ............ 		 b y , = ............ 		 b y , = ............ 		 b y , = ............ 		 b y , = - ............ 		 b y , = - ............ 		 b y , = - ............ 		 y , = - ............ the columns v, u, e give the proportions of the standard colours which are equivalent to of the given colour; and the sum of v, u, e gives a coefficient, which gives a general idea of the brightness. it will be seen that the first admixture of yellow _diminishes_ the brightness of the blue. the negative values of u indicate that a mixture of v, u, and e cannot be made equivalent to the given colour. the experiments from which these results were taken had the negative values transferred to the other side of the equation. they were all made by means of the colour-top, and were verified by repetition at different times. it may be necessary to remark, in conclusion, with reference to the mode of registering visible colours in terms of three arbitrary standard colours, that it proceeds upon that theory of three primary elements in the sensation of colour, which treats the investigation of the laws of visible colour as a branch of human physiology, incapable of being deduced from the laws of light itself, as set forth in physical optics. it takes advantage of the methods of optics to study vision itself; and its appeal is not to physical principles, but to our consciousness of our own sensations. on an instrument to illustrate poinsot's theory of rotation. james clerk maxwell [from the _report of the british association_, .] in studying the rotation of a solid body according to poinsot's method, we have to consider the successive positions of the instantaneous axis of rotation with reference both to directions fixed in space and axes assumed in the moving body. the paths traced out by the pole of this axis on the _invariable plane_ and on the _central ellipsoid_ form interesting subjects of mathematical investigation. but when we attempt to follow with our eye the motion of a rotating body, we find it difficult to determine through what point of the _body_ the instantaneous axis passes at any time,--and to determine its path must be still more difficult. i have endeavoured to render visible the path of the instantaneous axis, and to vary the circumstances of motion, by means of a top of the same kind as that used by mr elliot, to illustrate precession*. the body of the instrument is a hollow cone of wood, rising from a ring, inches in diameter and inch thick. an iron axis, inches long, screws into the vertex of the cone. the lower extremity has a point of hard steel, which rests in an agate cup, and forms the support of the instrument. an iron nut, three ounces in weight, is made to screw on the axis, and to be fixed at any point; and in the wooden ring are screwed four bolts, of three ounces, working horizontally, and four bolts, of one ounce, working vertically. on the upper part of the axis is placed a disc of card, on which are drawn four concentric rings. each ring is divided into four quadrants, which are coloured red, yellow, green, and blue. the spaces between the rings are white. when the top is in motion, it is easy to see in which quadrant the instantaneous axis is at any moment and the distance between it and the axis of the instrument; and we observe,-- st. that the instantaneous axis travels in a closed curve, and returns to its original position in the body. ndly. that by working the vertical bolts, we can make the axis of the instrument the centre of this closed curve. it will then be one of the principal axes of inertia. rdly. that, by working the nut on the axis, we can make the order of colours either red, yellow, green, blue, or the reverse. when the order of colours is in the same direction as the rotation, it indicates that the axis of the instrument is that of greatest moment of inertia. thly. that if we screw the two pairs of opposite horizontal bolts to different distances from the axis, the path of the instantaneous pole will no longer be equidistant from the axis, but will describe an ellipse, whose longer axis is in the direction of the mean axis of the instrument. thly. that if we now make one of the two horizontal axes less and the other greater than the vertical axis, the instantaneous pole will separate from the axis of the instrument, and the axis will incline more and more till the spinning can no longer go on, on account of the obliquity. it is easy to see that, by attending to the laws of motion, we may produce any of the above effects at pleasure, and illustrate many different propositions by means of the same instrument. * _transactions of the royal scottish society of arts_, . address to the mathematical and physical sections of the british association. james clerk maxwell [from the _british association report_, vol. xl.] [liverpool, _september_ , .] at several of the recent meetings of the british association the varied and important business of the mathematical and physical section has been introduced by an address, the subject of which has been left to the selection of the president for the time being. the perplexing duty of choosing a subject has not, however, fallen to me. professor sylvester, the president of section a at the exeter meeting, gave us a noble vindication of pure mathematics by laying bare, as it were, the very working of the mathematical mind, and setting before us, not the array of symbols and brackets which form the armoury of the mathematician, or the dry results which are only the monuments of his conquests, but the mathematician himself, with all his human faculties directed by his professional sagacity to the pursuit, apprehension, and exhibition of that ideal harmony which he feels to be the root of all knowledge, the fountain of all pleasure, and the condition of all action. the mathematician has, above all things, an eye for symmetry; and professor sylvester has not only recognized the symmetry formed by the combination of his own subject with those of the former presidents, but has pointed out the duties of his successor in the following characteristic note:-- "mr spottiswoode favoured the section, in his opening address, with a combined history of the progress of mathematics and physics; dr. tyndall's address was virtually on the limits of physical philosophy; the one here in print," says prof. sylvester, "is an attempted faint adumbration of the nature of mathematical science in the abstract. what is wanting (like a fourth sphere resting on three others in contact) to build up the ideal pyramid is a discourse on the relation of the two branches (mathematics and physics) to, their action and reaction upon, one another, a magnificent theme, with which it is to be hoped that some future president of section a will crown the edifice and make the tetralogy (symbolizable by _a+a'_, _a_, _a'_, _aa'_) complete." the theme thus distinctly laid down for his successor by our late president is indeed a magnificent one, far too magnificent for any efforts of mine to realize. i have endeavoured to follow mr spottiswoode, as with far-reaching vision he distinguishes the systems of science into which phenomena, our knowledge of which is still in the nebulous stage, are growing. i have been carried by the penetrating insight and forcible expression of dr tyndall into that sanctuary of minuteness and of power where molecules obey the laws of their existence, clash together in fierce collision, or grapple in yet more fierce embrace, building up in secret the forms of visible things. i have been guided by prof. sylvester towards those serene heights "where never creeps a cloud, or moves a wind, nor ever falls the least white star of snow, nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans, nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar their sacred everlasting calm." but who will lead me into that still more hidden and dimmer region where thought weds fact, where the mental operation of the mathematician and the physical action of the molecules are seen in their true relation? does not the way to it pass through the very den of the metaphysician, strewed with the remains of former explorers, and abhorred by every man of science? it would indeed be a foolhardy adventure for me to take up the valuable time of the section by leading you into those speculations which require, as we know, thousands of years even to shape themselves intelligibly. but we are met as cultivators of mathematics and physics. in our daily work we are led up to questions the same in kind with those of metaphysics; and we approach them, not trusting to the native penetrating power of our own minds, but trained by a long-continued adjustment of our modes of thought to the facts of external nature. as mathematicians, we perform certain mental operations on the symbols of number or of quantity, and, by proceeding step by step from more simple to more complex operations, we are enabled to express the same thing in many different forms. the equivalence of these different forms, though a necessary consequence of self-evident axioms, is not always, to our minds, self-evident; but the mathematician, who by long practice has acquired a familiarity with many of these forms, and has become expert in the processes which lead from one to another, can often transform a perplexing expression into another which explains its meaning in more intelligible language. as students of physics we observe phenomena under varied circumstances, and endeavour to deduce the laws of their relations. every natural phenomenon is, to our minds, the result of an infinitely complex system of conditions. what we set ourselves to do is to unravel these conditions, and by viewing the phenomenon in a way which is in itself partial and imperfect, to piece out its features one by one, beginning with that which strikes us first, and thus gradually learning how to look at the whole phenomenon so as to obtain a continually greater degree of clearness and distinctness. in this process, the feature which presents itself most forcibly to the untrained inquirer may not be that which is considered most fundamental by the experienced man of science; for the success of any physical investigation depends on the judicious selection of what is to be observed as of primary importance, combined with a voluntary abstraction of the mind from those features which, however attractive they appear, we are not yet sufficiently advanced in science to investigate with profit. intellectual processes of this kind have been going on since the first formation of language, and are going on still. no doubt the feature which strikes us first and most forcibly in any phenomenon, is the pleasure or the pain which accompanies it, and the agreeable or disagreeable results which follow after it. a theory of nature from this point of view is embodied in many of our words and phrases, and is by no means extinct even in our deliberate opinions. it was a great step in science when men became convinced that, in order to understand the nature of things, they must begin by asking, not whether a thing is good or bad, noxious or beneficial, but of what kind is it? and how much is there of it? quality and quantity were then first recognized as the primary features to be observed in scientific inquiry. as science has been developed, the domain of quantity has everywhere encroached on that of quality, till the process of scientific inquiry seems to have become simply the measurement and registration of quantities, combined with a mathematical discussion of the numbers thus obtained. it is this scientific method of directing our attention to those features of phenomena which may be regarded as quantities which brings physical research under the influence of mathematical reasoning. in the work of the section we shall have abundant examples of the successful application of this method to the most recent conquests of science; but i wish at present to direct your attention to some of the reciprocal effects of the progress of science on those elementary conceptions which are sometimes thought to be beyond the reach of change. if the skill of the mathematician has enabled the experimentalist to see that the quantities which he has measured are connected by necessary relations, the discoveries of physics have revealed to the mathematician new forms of quantities which he could never have imagined for himself. of the methods by which the mathematician may make his labours most useful to the student of nature, that which i think is at present most important is the systematic classification of quantities. the quantities which we study in mathematics and physics may be classified in two different ways. the student who wishes to master any particular science must make himself familiar with the various kinds of quantities which belong to that science. when he understands all the relations between these quantities, he regards them as forming a connected system, and he classes the whole system of quantities together as belonging to that particular science. this classification is the most natural from a physical point of view, and it is generally the first in order of time. but when the student has become acquainted with several different sciences, he finds that the mathematical processes and trains of reasoning in one science resemble those in another so much that his knowledge of the one science may be made a most useful help in the study of the other. when he examines into the reason of this, he finds that in the two sciences he has been dealing with systems of quantities, in which the mathematical forms of the relations of the quantities are the same in both systems, though the physical nature of the quantities may be utterly different. he is thus led to recognize a classification of quantities on a new principle, according to which the physical nature of the quantity is subordinated to its mathematical form. this is the point of view which is characteristic of the mathematician; but it stands second to the physical aspect in order of time, because the human mind, in order to conceive of different kinds of quantities, must have them presented to it by nature. i do not here refer to the fact that all quantities, as such, are subject to the rules of arithmetic and algebra, and are therefore capable of being submitted to those dry calculations which represent, to so many minds, their only idea of mathematics. the human mind is seldom satisfied, and is certainly never exercising its highest functions, when it is doing the work of a calculating machine. what the man of science, whether he is a mathematician or a physical inquirer, aims at is, to acquire and develope clear ideas of the things he deals with. for this purpose he is willing to enter on long calculations, and to be for a season a calculating machine, if he can only at last make his ideas clearer. but if he finds that clear ideas are not to be obtained by means of processes the steps of which he is sure to forget before he has reached the conclusion, it is much better that he should turn to another method, and try to understand the subject by means of well-chosen illustrations derived from subjects with which he is more familiar. we all know how much more popular the illustrative method of exposition is found, than that in which bare processes of reasoning and calculation form the principal subject of discourse. now a truly scientific illustration is a method to enable the mind to grasp some conception or law in one branch of science, by placing before it a conception or a law in a different branch of science, and directing the mind to lay hold of that mathematical form which is common to the corresponding ideas in the two sciences, leaving out of account for the present the difference between the physical nature of the real phenomena. the correctness of such an illustration depends on whether the two systems of ideas which are compared together are really analogous in form, or whether, in other words, the corresponding physical quantities really belong to the same mathematical class. when this condition is fulfilled, the illustration is not only convenient for teaching science in a pleasant and easy manner, but the recognition of the formal analogy between the two systems of ideas leads to a knowledge of both, more profound than could be obtained by studying each system separately. there are men who, when any relation or law, however complex, is put before them in a symbolical form, can grasp its full meaning as a relation among abstract quantities. such men sometimes treat with indifference the further statement that quantities actually exist in nature which fulfil this relation. the mental image of the concrete reality seems rather to disturb than to assist their contemplations. but the great majority of mankind are utterly unable, without long training, to retain in their minds the unembodied symbols of the pure mathematician, so that, if science is ever to become popular, and yet remain scientific, it must be by a profound study and a copious application of those principles of the mathematical classification of quantities which, as we have seen, lie at the root of every truly scientific illustration. there are, as i have said, some minds which can go on contemplating with satisfaction pure quantities presented to the eye by symbols, and to the mind in a form which none but mathematicians can conceive. there are others who feel more enjoyment in following geometrical forms, which they draw on paper, or build up in the empty space before them. others, again, are not content unless they can project their whole physical energies into the scene which they conjure up. they learn at what a rate the planets rush through space, and they experience a delightful feeling of exhilaration. they calculate the forces with which the heavenly bodies pull at one another, and they feel their own muscles straining with the effort. to such men momentum, energy, mass are not mere abstract expressions of the results of scientific inquiry. they are words of power, which stir their souls like the memories of childhood. for the sake of persons of these different types, scientific truth should be presented in different forms, and should be regarded as equally scientific whether it appears in the robust form and the vivid colouring of a physical illustration, or in the tenuity and paleness of a symbolical expression. time would fail me if i were to attempt to illustrate by examples the scientific value of the classification of quantities. i shall only mention the name of that important class of magnitudes having direction in space which hamilton has called vectors, and which form the subject-matter of the calculus of quaternions, a branch of mathematics which, when it shall have been thoroughly understood by men of the illustrative type, and clothed by them with physical imagery, will become, perhaps under some new name, a most powerful method of communicating truly scientific knowledge to persons apparently devoid of the calculating spirit. the mutual action and reaction between the different departments of human thought is so interesting to the student of scientific progress, that, at the risk of still further encroaching on the valuable time of the section, i shall say a few words on a branch of physics which not very long ago would have been considered rather a branch of metaphysics. i mean the atomic theory, or, as it is now called, the molecular theory of the constitution of bodies. not many years ago if we had been asked in what regions of physical science the advance of discovery was least apparent, we should have pointed to the hopelessly distant fixed stars on the one hand, and to the inscrutable delicacy of the texture of material bodies on the other. indeed, if we are to regard comte as in any degree representing the scientific opinion of his time, the research into what takes place beyond our own solar system seemed then to be exceedingly unpromising, if not altogether illusory. the opinion that the bodies which we see and handle, which we can set in motion or leave at rest, which we can break in pieces and destroy, are composed of smaller bodies which we cannot see or handle, which are always in motion, and which can neither be stopped nor broken in pieces, nor in any way destroyed or deprived of the least of their properties, was known by the name of the atomic theory. it was associated with the names of democritus, epicurus, and lucretius, and was commonly supposed to admit the existence only of atoms and void, to the exclusion of any other basis of things from the universe. in many physical reasonings and mathematical calculations we are accustomed to argue as if such substances as air, water, or metal, which appear to our senses uniform and continuous, were strictly and mathematically uniform and continuous. we know that we can divide a pint of water into many millions of portions, each of which is as fully endowed with all the properties of water as the whole pint was; and it seems only natural to conclude that we might go on subdividing the water for ever, just as we can never come to a limit in subdividing the space in which it is contained. we have heard how faraday divided a grain of gold into an inconceivable number of separate particles, and we may see dr tyndall produce from a mere suspicion of nitrite of butyle an immense cloud, the minute visible portion of which is still cloud, and therefore must contain many molecules of nitrite of butyle. but evidence from different and independent sources is now crowding in upon us which compels us to admit that if we could push the process of subdivision still further we should come to a limit, because each portion would then contain only one molecule, an individual body, one and indivisible, unalterable by any power in nature. even in our ordinary experiments on very finely divided matter we find that the substance is beginning to lose the properties which it exhibits when in a large mass, and that effects depending on the individual action of molecules are beginning to become prominent. the study of these phenomena is at present the path which leads to the development of molecular science. that superficial tension of liquids which is called capillary attraction is one of these phenomena. another important class of phenomena are those which are due to that motion of agitation by which the molecules of a liquid or gas are continually working their way from one place to another, and continually changing their course, like people hustled in a crowd. on this depends the rate of diffusion of gases and liquids through each other, to the study of which, as one of the keys of molecular science, that unwearied inquirer into nature's secrets, the late prof. graham, devoted such arduous labour. the rate of electrolytic conduction is, according to wiedemann's theory, influenced by the same cause; and the conduction of heat in fluids depends probably on the same kind of action. in the case of gases, a molecular theory has been developed by clausius and others, capable of mathematical treatment, and subjected to experimental investigation; and by this theory nearly every known mechanical property of gases has been explained on dynamical principles; so that the properties of individual gaseous molecules are in a fair way to become objects of scientific research. now mr stoney has pointed out[ ] that the numerical results of experiments on gases render it probable that the mean distance of their particles at the ordinary temperature and pressure is a quantity of the same order of magnitude as a millionth of a millimetre, and sir william thomson has since[ ] shewn, by several independent lines of argument, drawn from phenomena so different in themselves as the electrification of metals by contact, the tension of soap-bubbles, and the friction of air, that in ordinary solids and liquids the average distance between contiguous molecules is less than the hundred-millionth, and greater than the two-thousand-millionth of a centimetre. [ ] _phil. mag._, aug. . [ ] _nature_, march , . these, of course, are exceedingly rough estimates, for they are derived from measurements some of which are still confessedly very rough; but if at the present time, we can form even a rough plan for arriving at results of this kind, we may hope that, as our means of experimental inquiry become more accurate and more varied, our conception of a molecule will become more definite, so that we may be able at no distant period to estimate its weight with a greater degree of precision. a theory, which sir w. thomson has founded on helmholtz's splendid hydrodynamical theorems, seeks for the properties of molecules in the ring vortices of a uniform, frictionless, incompressible fluid. such whirling rings may be seen when an experienced smoker sends out a dexterous puff of smoke into the still air, but a more evanescent phenomenon it is difficult to conceive. this evanescence is owing to the viscosity of the air; but helmholtz has shewn that in a perfect fluid such a whirling ring, if once generated, would go on whirling for ever, would always consist of the very same portion of the fluid which was first set whirling, and could never be cut in two by any natural cause. the generation of a ring-vortex is of course equally beyond the power of natural causes, but once generated, it has the properties of individuality, permanence in quantity, and indestructibility. it is also the recipient of impulse and of energy, which is all we can affirm of matter; and these ring-vortices are capable of such varied connexions and knotted self-involutions, that the properties of differently knotted vortices must be as different as those of different kinds of molecules can be. if a theory of this kind should be found, after conquering the enormous mathematical difficulties of the subject, to represent in any degree the actual properties of molecules, it will stand in a very different scientific position from those theories of molecular action which are formed by investing the molecule with an arbitrary system of central forces invented expressly to account for the observed phenomena. in the vortex theory we have nothing arbitrary, no central forces or occult properties of any other kind. we have nothing but matter and motion, and when the vortex is once started its properties are all determined from the original impetus, and no further assumptions are possible. even in the present undeveloped state of the theory, the contemplation of the individuality and indestructibility of a ring-vortex in a perfect fluid cannot fail to disturb the commonly received opinion that a molecule, in order to be permanent, must be a very hard body. in fact one of the first conditions which a molecule must fulfil is, apparently, inconsistent with its being a single hard body. we know from those spectroscopic researches which have thrown so much light on different branches of science, that a molecule can be set into a state of internal vibration, in which it gives off to the surrounding medium light of definite refrangibility--light, that is, of definite wave-length and definite period of vibration. the fact that all the molecules (say, of hydrogen) which we can procure for our experiments, when agitated by heat or by the passage of an electric spark, vibrate precisely in the same periodic time, or, to speak more accurately, that their vibrations are composed of a system of simple vibrations having always the same periods, is a very remarkable fact. i must leave it to others to describe the progress of that splendid series of spectroscopic discoveries by which the chemistry of the heavenly bodies has been brought within the range of human inquiry. i wish rather to direct your attention to the fact that, not only has every molecule of terrestrial hydrogen the same system of periods of free vibration, but that the spectroscopic examination of the light of the sun and stars shews that, in regions the distance of which we can only feebly imagine, there are molecules vibrating in as exact unison with the molecules of terrestrial hydrogen as two tuning-forks tuned to concert pitch, or two watches regulated to solar time. now this absolute equality in the magnitude of quantities, occurring in all parts of the universe, is worth our consideration. the dimensions of individual natural bodies are either quite indeterminate, as in the case of planets, stones, trees, &c., or they vary within moderate limits, as in the case of seeds, eggs, &c.; but even in these cases small quantitative differences are met with which do not interfere with the essential properties of the body. even crystals, which are so definite in geometrical form, are variable with respect to their absolute dimensions. among the works of man we sometimes find a certain degree of uniformity. there is a uniformity among the different bullets which are cast in the same mould, and the different copies of a book printed from the same type. if we examine the coins, or the weights and measures, of a civilized country, we find a uniformity, which is produced by careful adjustment to standards made and provided by the state. the degree of uniformity of these national standards is a measure of that spirit of justice in the nation which has enacted laws to regulate them and appointed officers to test them. this subject is one in which we, as a scientific body, take a warm interest; and you are all aware of the vast amount of scientific work which has been expended, and profitably expended, in providing weights and measures for commercial and scientific purposes. the earth has been measured as a basis for a permanent standard of length, and every property of metals has been investigated to guard against any alteration of the material standards when made. to weigh or measure any thing with modern accuracy, requires a course of experiment and calculation in which almost every branch of physics and mathematics is brought into requisition. yet, after all, the dimensions of our earth and its time of rotation, though, relatively to our present means of comparison, very permanent, are not so by any physical necessity. the earth might contract by cooling, or it might be enlarged by a layer of meteorites falling on it, or its rate of revolution might slowly slacken, and yet it would continue to be as much a planet as before. but a molecule, say of hydrogen, if either its mass or its time of vibration were to be altered in the least, would no longer be a molecule of hydrogen. if, then, we wish to obtain standards of length, time, and mass which shall be absolutely permanent, we must seek them not in the dimensions, or the motion, or the mass of our planet, but in the wave-length, the period of vibration, and the absolute mass of these imperishable and unalterable and perfectly similar molecules. when we find that here, and in the starry heavens, there are innumerable multitudes of little bodies of exactly the same mass, so many, and no more, to the grain, and vibrating in exactly the same time, so many times, and no more, in a second, and when we reflect that no power in nature can now alter in the least either the mass or the period of any one of them, we seem to have advanced along the path of natural knowledge to one of those points at which we must accept the guidance of that faith by which we understand that "that which is seen was not made of things which do appear." one of the most remarkable results of the progress of molecular science is the light it has thrown on the nature of irreversible processes--processes, that is, which always tend towards and never away from a certain limiting state. thus, if two gases be put into the same vessel, they become mixed, and the mixture tends continually to become more uniform. if two unequally heated portions of the same gas are put into the vessel, something of the kind takes place, and the whole tends to become of the same temperature. if two unequally heated solid bodies be placed in contact, a continual approximation of both to an intermediate temperature takes place. in the case of the two gases, a separation may be effected by chemical means; but in the other two cases the former state of things cannot be restored by any natural process. in the case of the conduction or diffusion of heat the process is not only irreversible, but it involves the irreversible diminution of that part of the whole stock of thermal energy which is capable of being converted into mechanical work. this is thomson's theory of the irreversible dissipation of energy, and it is equivalent to the doctrine of clausius concerning the growth of what he calls entropy. the irreversible character of this process is strikingly embodied in fourier's theory of the conduction of heat, where the formulae themselves indicate, for all positive values of the time, a possible solution which continually tends to the form of a uniform diffusion of heat. but if we attempt to ascend the stream of time by giving to its symbol continually diminishing values, we are led up to a state of things in which the formula has what is called a critical value; and if we inquire into the state of things the instant before, we find that the formula becomes absurd. we thus arrive at the conception of a state of things which cannot be conceived as the physical result of a previous state of things, and we find that this critical condition actually existed at an epoch not in the utmost depths of a past eternity, but separated from the present time by a finite interval. this idea of a beginning is one which the physical researches of recent times have brought home to us, more than any observer of the course of scientific thought in former times would have had reason to expect. but the mind of man is not, like fourier's heated body, continually settling down into an ultimate state of quiet uniformity, the character of which we can already predict; it is rather like a tree, shooting out branches which adapt themselves to the new aspects of the sky towards which they climb, and roots which contort themselves among the strange strata of the earth into which they delve. to us who breathe only the spirit of our own age, and know only the characteristics of contemporary thought, it is as impossible to predict the general tone of the science of the future as it is to anticipate the particular discoveries which it will make. physical research is continually revealing to us new features of natural processes, and we are thus compelled to search for new forms of thought appropriate to these features. hence the importance of a careful study of those relations between mathematics and physics which determine the conditions under which the ideas derived from one department of physics may be safely used in forming ideas to be employed in a new department. the figure of speech or of thought by which we transfer the language and ideas of a familiar science to one with which we are less acquainted may be called scientific metaphor. thus the words velocity, momentum, force, &c. have acquired certain precise meanings in elementary dynamics. they are also employed in the dynamics of a connected system in a sense which, though perfectly analogous to the elementary sense, is wider and more general. these generalized forms of elementary ideas may be called metaphorical terms in the sense in which every abstract term is metaphorical. the characteristic of a truly scientific system of metaphors is that each term in its metaphorical use retains all the formal relations to the other terms of the system which it had in its original use. the method is then truly scientific--that is, not only a legitimate product of science, but capable of generating science in its turn. there are certain electrical phenomena, again, which are connected together by relations of the same form as those which connect dynamical phenomena. to apply to these the phrases of dynamics with proper distinctions and provisional reservations is an example of a metaphor of a bolder kind; but it is a legitimate metaphor if it conveys a true idea of the electrical relations to those who have been already trained in dynamics. suppose, then, that we have successfully introduced certain ideas belonging to an elementary science by applying them metaphorically to some new class of phenomena. it becomes an important philosophical question to determine in what degree the applicability of the old ideas to the new subject may be taken as evidence that the new phenomena are physically similar to the old. the best instances for the determination of this question are those in which two different explanations have been given of the same thing. the most celebrated case of this kind is that of the corpuscular and the undulatory theories of light. up to a certain point the phenomena of light are equally well explained by both; beyond this point, one of them fails. to understand the true relation of these theories in that part of the field where they seem equally applicable we must look at them in the light which hamilton has thrown upon them by his discovery that to every brachistochrone problem there corresponds a problem of free motion, involving different velocities and times, but resulting in the same geometrical path. professor tait has written a very interesting paper on this subject. according to a theory of electricity which is making great progress in germany, two electrical particles act on one another directly at a distance, but with a force which, according to weber, depends on their relative velocity, and according to a theory hinted at by gauss, and developed by riemann, lorenz, and neumann, acts not instantaneously, but after a time depending on the distance. the power with which this theory, in the hands of these eminent men, explains every kind of electrical phenomena must be studied in order to be appreciated. another theory of electricity, which i prefer, denies action at a distance and attributes electric action to tensions and pressures in an all-pervading medium, these stresses being the same in kind with those familiar to engineers, and the medium being identical with that in which light is supposed to be propagated. both these theories are found to explain not only the phenomena by the aid of which they were originally constructed, but other phenomena, which were not thought of or perhaps not known at the time; and both have independently arrived at the same numerical result, which gives the absolute velocity of light in terms of electrical quantities. that theories apparently so fundamentally opposed should have so large a field of truth common to both is a fact the philosophical importance of which we cannot fully appreciate till we have reached a scientific altitude from which the true relation between hypotheses so different can be seen. i shall only make one more remark on the relation between mathematics and physics. in themselves, one is an operation of the mind, the other is a dance of molecules. the molecules have laws of their own, some of which we select as most intelligible to us and most amenable to our calculation. we form a theory from these partial data, and we ascribe any deviation of the actual phenomena from this theory to disturbing causes. at the same time we confess that what we call disturbing causes are simply those parts of the true circumstances which we do not know or have neglected, and we endeavour in future to take account of them. we thus acknowledge that the so-called disturbance is a mere figment of the mind, not a fact of nature, and that in natural action there is no disturbance. but this is not the only way in which the harmony of the material with the mental operation may be disturbed. the mind of the mathematician is subject to many disturbing causes, such as fatigue, loss of memory, and hasty conclusions; and it is found that, from these and other causes, mathematicians make mistakes. i am not prepared to deny that, to some mind of a higher order than ours, each of these errors might be traced to the regular operation of the laws of actual thinking; in fact we ourselves often do detect, not only errors of calculation, but the causes of these errors. this, however, by no means alters our conviction that they are errors, and that one process of thought is right and another process wrong. i one of the most profound mathematicians and thinkers of our time, the late george boole, when reflecting on the precise and almost mathematical character of the laws of right thinking as compared with the exceedingly perplexing though perhaps equally determinate laws of actual and fallible thinking, was led to another of those points of view from which science seems to look out into a region beyond her own domain. "we must admit," he says, "that there exist laws" (of thought) "which even the rigour of their mathematical forms does not preserve from violation. we must ascribe to them an authority, the essence of which does not consist in power, a supremacy which the analogy of the inviolable order of the natural world in no way assists us to comprehend." introductory lecture on experimental physics. james clerk maxwell the university of cambridge, in accordance with that law of its evolution, by which, while maintaining the strictest continuity between the successive phases of its history, it adapts itself with more or less promptness to the requirements of the times, has lately instituted a course of experimental physics. this course of study, while it requires us to maintain in action all those powers of attention and analysis which have been so long cultivated in the university, calls on us to exercise our senses in observation, and our hands in manipulation. the familiar apparatus of pen, ink, and paper will no longer be sufficient for us, and we shall require more room than that afforded by a seat at a desk, and a wider area than that of the black board. we owe it to the munificence of our chancellor, that, whatever be the character in other respects of the experiments which we hope hereafter to conduct, the material facilities for their full development will be upon a scale which has not hitherto been surpassed. the main feature, therefore, of experimental physics at cambridge is the devonshire physical laboratory, and i think it desirable that on the present occasion, before we enter on the details of any special study, we should consider by what means we, the university of cambridge, may, as a living body, appropriate and vitalise this new organ, the outward shell of which we expect soon to rise before us. the course of study at this university has always included natural philosophy, as well as pure mathematics. to diffuse a sound knowledge of physics, and to imbue the minds of our students with correct dynamical principles, have been long regarded as among our highest functions, and very few of us can now place ourselves in the mental condition in which even such philosophers as the great descartes were involved in the days before newton had announced the true laws of the motion of bodies. indeed the cultivation and diffusion of sound dynamical ideas has already effected a great change in the language and thoughts even of those who make no pretensions to science, and we are daily receiving fresh proofs that the popularisation of scientific doctrines is producing as great an alteration in the mental state of society as the material applications of science are effecting in its outward life. such indeed is the respect paid to science, that the most absurd opinions may become current, provided they are expressed in language, the sound of which recals some well-known scientific phrase. if society is thus prepared to receive all kinds of scientific doctrines, it is our part to provide for the diffusion and cultivation, not only of true scientific principles, but of a spirit of sound criticism, founded on an examination of the evidences on which statements apparently scientific depend. when we shall be able to employ in scientific education, not only the trained attention of the student, and his familiarity with symbols, but the keenness of his eye, the quickness of his ear, the delicacy of his touch, and the adroitness of his fingers, we shall not only extend our influence over a class of men who are not fond of cold abstractions, but, by opening at once all the gateways of knowledge, we shall ensure the association of the doctrines of science with those elementary sensations which form the obscure background of all our conscious thoughts, and which lend a vividness and relief to ideas, which, when presented as mere abstract terms, are apt to fade entirely from the memory. in a course of experimental physics we may consider either the physics or the experiments as the leading feature. we may either employ the experiments to illustrate the phenomena of a particular branch of physics, or we may make some physical research in order to exemplify a particular experimental method. in the order of time, we should begin, in the lecture room, with a course of lectures on some branch of physics aided by experiments of illustration, and conclude, in the laboratory, with a course of experiments of research. let me say a few words on these two classes of experiments,--experiments of illustration and experiments of research. the aim of an experiment of illustration is to throw light upon some scientific idea so that the student may be enabled to grasp it. the circumstances of the experiment are so arranged that the phenomenon which we wish to observe or to exhibit is brought into prominence, instead of being obscured and entangled among other phenomena, as it is when it occurs in the ordinary course of nature. to exhibit illustrative experiments, to encourage others to make them, and to cultivate in every way the ideas on which they throw light, forms an important part of our duty. the simpler the materials of an illustrative experiment, and the more familiar they are to the student, the more thoroughly is he likely to acquire the idea which it is meant to illustrate. the educational value of such experiments is often inversely proportional to the complexity of the apparatus. the student who uses home-made apparatus, which is always going wrong, often learns more than one who has the use of carefully adjusted instruments, to which he is apt to trust, and which he dares not take to pieces. it is very necessary that those who are trying to learn from books the facts of physical science should be enabled by the help of a few illustrative experiments to recognise these facts when they meet with them out of doors. science appears to us with a very different aspect after we have found out that it is not in lecture rooms only, and by means of the electric light projected on a screen, that we may witness physical phenomena, but that we may find illustrations of the highest doctrines of science in games and gymnastics, in travelling by land and by water, in storms of the air and of the sea, and wherever there is matter in motion. this habit of recognising principles amid the endless variety of their action can never degrade our sense of the sublimity of nature, or mar our enjoyment of its beauty. on the contrary, it tends to rescue our scientific ideas from that vague condition in which we too often leave them, buried among the other products of a lazy credulity, and to raise them into their proper position among the doctrines in which our faith is so assured, that we are ready at all times to act on them. experiments of illustration may be of very different kinds. some may be adaptations of the commonest operations of ordinary life, others may be carefully arranged exhibitions of some phenomenon which occurs only under peculiar conditions. they all, however, agree in this, that their aim is to present some phenomenon to the senses of the student in such a way that he may associate with it the appropriate scientific idea. when he has grasped this idea, the experiment which illustrates it has served its purpose. in an experiment of research, on the other hand, this is not the principal aim. it is true that an experiment, in which the principal aim is to see what happens under certain conditions, may be regarded as an experiment of research by those who are not yet familiar with the result, but in experimental researches, strictly so called, the ultimate object is to measure something which we have already seen--to obtain a numerical estimate of some magnitude. experiments of this class--those in which measurement of some kind is involved, are the proper work of a physical laboratory. in every experiment we have first to make our senses familiar with the phenomenon, but we must not stop here, we must find out which of its features are capable of measurement, and what measurements are required in order to make a complete specification of the phenomenon. we must then make these measurements, and deduce from them the result which we require to find. this characteristic of modern experiments--that they consist principally of measurements,--is so prominent, that the opinion seems to have got abroad, that in a few years all the great physical constants will have been approximately estimated, and that the only occupation which will then be left to men of science will be to carry on these measurements to another place of decimals. if this is really the state of things to which we are approaching, our laboratory may perhaps become celebrated as a place of conscientious labour and consummate skill, but it will be out of place in the university, and ought rather to be classed with the other great workshops of our country, where equal ability is directed to more useful ends. but we have no right to think thus of the unsearchable riches of creation, or of the untried fertility of those fresh minds into which these riches will continue to be poured. it may possibly be true that, in some of those fields of discovery which lie open to such rough observations as can be made without artificial methods, the great explorers of former times have appropriated most of what is valuable, and that the gleanings which remain are sought after, rather for their abstruseness, than for their intrinsic worth. but the history of science shews that even during that phase of her progress in which she devotes herself to improving the accuracy of the numerical measurement of quantities with which she has long been familiar, she is preparing the materials for the subjugation of new regions, which would have remained unknown if she had been contented with the rough methods of her early pioneers. i might bring forward instances gathered from every branch of science, shewing how the labour of careful measurement has been rewarded by the discovery of new fields of research, and by the development of new scientific ideas. but the history of the science of terrestrial magnetism affords us a sufficient example of what may be done by experiments in concert, such as we hope some day to perform in our laboratory. that celebrated traveller, humboldt, was profoundly impressed with the scientific value of a combined effort to be made by the observers of all nations, to obtain accurate measurements of the magnetism of the earth; and we owe it mainly to his enthusiasm for science, his great reputation and his wide-spread influence, that not only private men of science, but the governments of most of the civilised nations, our own among the number, were induced to take part in the enterprise. but the actual working out of the scheme, and the arrangements by which the labours of the observers were so directed as to obtain the best results, we owe to the great mathematician gauss, working along with weber, the future founder of the science of electro-magnetic measurement, in the magnetic observatory of gottingen, and aided by the skill of the instrument-maker leyser. these men, however, did not work alone. numbers of scientific men joined the magnetic union, learned the use of the new instruments and the new methods of reducing the observations; and in every city of europe you might see them, at certain stated times, sitting, each in his cold wooden shed, with his eye fixed at the telescope, his ear attentive to the clock, and his pencil recording in his note-book the instantaneous position of the suspended magnet. bacon's conception of "experiments in concert" was thus realised, the scattered forces of science were converted into a regular army, and emulation and jealousy became out of place, for the results obtained by any one observer were of no value till they were combined with those of the others. the increase in the accuracy and completeness of magnetic observations which was obtained by the new method, opened up fields of research which were hardly suspected to exist by those whose observations of the magnetic needle had been conducted in a more primitive manner. we must reserve for its proper place in our course any detailed description of the disturbances to which the magnetism of our planet is found to be subject. some of these disturbances are periodic, following the regular courses of the sun and moon. others are sudden, and are called magnetic storms, but, like the storms of the atmosphere, they have their known seasons of frequency. the last and the most mysterious of these magnetic changes is that secular variation by which the whole character of the earth, as a great magnet, is being slowly modified, while the magnetic poles creep on, from century to century, along their winding track in the polar regions. we have thus learned that the interior of the earth is subject to the influences of the heavenly bodies, but that besides this there is a constantly progressive change going on, the cause of which is entirely unknown. in each of the magnetic observatories throughout the world an arrangement is at work, by means of which a suspended magnet directs a ray of light on a preparred sheet of paper moved by clockwork. on that paper the never-resting heart of the earth is now tracing, in telegraphic symbols which will one day be interpreted, a record of its pulsations and its flutterings, as well as of that slow but mighty working which warns us that we must not suppose that the inner history of our planet is ended. but this great experimental research on terrestrial magnetism produced lasting effects on the progress of science in general. i need only mention one or two instances. the new methods of measuring forces were successfully applied by weber to the numerical determination of all the phenomena of electricity, and very soon afterwards the electric telegraph, by conferring a commercial value on exact numerical measurements, contributed largely to the advancement, as well as to the diffusion of scientific knowledge. but it is not in these more modern branches of science alone that this influence is felt. it is to gauss, to the magnetic union, and to magnetic observers in general, that we owe our deliverance from that absurd method of estimating forces by a variable standard which prevailed so long even among men of science. it was gauss who first based the practical measurement of magnetic force (and therefore of every other force) on those long established principles, which, though they are embodied in every dynamical equation, have been so generally set aside, that these very equations, though correctly given in our cambridge textbooks, are usually explained there by assuming, in addition to the variable standard of force, a variable, and therefore illegal, standard of mass. such, then, were some of the scientific results which followed in this case from bringing together mathematical power, experimental sagacity, and manipulative skill, to direct and assist the labours of a body of zealous observers. if therefore we desire, for our own advantage and for the honour of our university, that the devonshire laboratory should be successful, we must endeavour to maintain it in living union with the other organs and faculties of our learned body. we shall therefore first consider the relation in which we stand to those mathematical studies which have so long flourished among us, which deal with our own subjects, and which differ from our experimental studies only in the mode in which they are presented to the mind. there is no more powerful method for introducing knowledge into the mind than that of presenting it in as many different ways as we can. when the ideas, after entering through different gateways, effect a junction in the citadel of the mind, the position they occupy becomes impregnable. opticians tell us that the mental combination of the views of an object which we obtain from stations no further apart than our two eyes is sufficient to produce in our minds an impression of the solidity of the object seen; and we find that this impression is produced even when we are aware that we are really looking at two flat pictures placed in a stereoscope. it is therefore natural to expect that the knowledge of physical science obtained by the combined use of mathematical analysis and experimental research will be of a more solid, available, and enduring kind than that possessed by the mere mathematician or the mere experimenter. but what will be the effect on the university, if men pursuing that course of reading which has produced so many distinguished wranglers, turn aside to work experiments? will not their attendance at the laboratory count not merely as time withdrawn from their more legitimate studies, but as the introduction of a disturbing element, tainting their mathematical conceptions with material imagery, and sapping their faith in the formulae of the textbook? besides this, we have already heard complaints of the undue extension of our studies, and of the strain put upon our questionists by the weight of learning which they try to carry with them into the senate-house. if we now ask them to get up their subjects not only by books and writing, but at the same time by observation and manipulation, will they not break down altogether? the physical laboratory, we are told, may perhaps be useful to those who are going out in natural science, and who do not take in mathematics, but to attempt to combine both kinds of study during the time of residence at the university is more than one mind can bear. no doubt there is some reason for this feeling. many of us have already overcome the initial difficulties of mathematical training. when we now go on with our study, we feel that it requires exertion and involves fatigue, but we are confident that if we only work hard our progress will be certain. some of us, on the other hand, may have had some experience of the routine of experimental work. as soon as we can read scales, observe times, focus telescopes, and so on, this kind of work ceases to require any great mental effort. we may perhaps tire our eyes and weary our backs, but we do not greatly fatigue our minds. it is not till we attempt to bring the theoretical part of our training into contact with the practical that we begin to experience the full effect of what faraday has called "mental inertia"--not only the difficulty of recognising, among the concrete objects before us, the abstract relation which we have learned from books, but the distracting pain of wrenching the mind away from the symbols to the objects, and from the objects back to the symbols. this however is the price we have to pay for new ideas. but when we have overcome these difficulties, and successfully bridged over the gulph between the abstract and the concrete, it is not a mere piece of knowledge that we have obtained: we have acquired the rudiment of a permanent mental endowment. when, by a repetition of efforts of this kind, we have more fully developed the scientific faculty, the exercise of this faculty in detecting scientific principles in nature, and in directing practice by theory, is no longer irksome, but becomes an unfailing source of enjoyment, to which we return so often, that at last even our careless thoughts begin to run in a scientific channel. i quite admit that our mental energy is limited in quantity, and i know that many zealous students try to do more than is good for them. but the question about the introduction of experimental study is not entirely one of quantity. it is to a great extent a question of distribution of energy. some distributions of energy, we know, are more useful than others, because they are more available for those purposes which we desire to accomplish. now in the case of study, a great part of our fatigue often arises, not from those mental efforts by which we obtain the mastery of the subject, but from those which are spent in recalling our wandering thoughts; and these efforts of attention would be much less fatiguing if the disturbing force of mental distraction could be removed. this is the reason why a man whose soul is in his work always makes more progress than one whose aim is something not immediately connected with his occupation. in the latter case the very motive of which he makes use to stimulate his flagging powers becomes the means of distracting his mind from the work before him. there may be some mathematicians who pursue their studies entirely for their own sake. most men, however, think that the chief use of mathematics is found in the interpretation of nature. now a man who studies a piece of mathematics in order to understand some natural phenomenon which he has seen, or to calculate the best arrangement of some experiment which he means to make, is likely to meet with far less distraction of mind than if his sole aim had been to sharpen his mind for the successful practice of the law, or to obtain a high place in the mathematical tripos. i have known men, who when they were at school, never could see the good of mathematics, but who, when in after life they made this discovery, not only became eminent as scientific engineers, but made considerable progress in the study of abstract mathematics. if our experimental course should help any of you to see the good of mathematics, it will relieve us of much anxiety, for it will not only ensure the success of your future studies, but it will make it much less likely that they will prove injurious to your health. but why should we labour to prove the advantage of practical science to the university? let us rather speak of the help which the university may give to science, when men well trained in mathematics and enjoying the advantages of a well-appointed laboratory, shall unite their efforts to carry out some experimental research which no solitary worker could attempt. at first it is probable that our principal experimental work must be the illustration of particular branches of science, but as we go on we must add to this the study of scientific methods, the same method being sometimes illustrated by its application to researches belonging to different branches of science. we might even imagine a course of experimental study the arrangement of which should be founded on a classification of methods, and not on that of the objects of investigation. a combination of the two plans seems to me better than either, and while we take every opportunity of studying methods, we shall take care not to dissociate the method from the scientific research to which it is applied, and to which it owes its value. we shall therefore arrange our lectures according to the classification of the principal natural phenomena, such as heat, electricity, magnetism and so on. in the laboratory, on the other hand, the place of the different instruments will be determined by a classification according to methods, such as weighing and measuring, observations of time, optical and electrical methods of observation, and so on. the determination of the experiments to be performed at a particular time must often depend upon the means we have at command, and in the case of the more elaborate experiments, this may imply a long time of preparation, during which the instruments, the methods, and the observers themselves, are being gradually fitted for their work. when we have thus brought together the requisites, both material and intellectual, for a particular experiment, it may sometimes be desirable that before the instruments are dismounted and the observers dispersed, we should make some other experiment, requiring the same method, but dealing perhaps with an entirely different class of physical phenomena. our principal work, however, in the laboratory must be to acquaint ourselves with all kinds of scientific methods, to compare them, and to estimate their value. it will, i think, be a result worthy of our university, and more likely to be accomplished here than in any private laboratory, if, by the free and full discussion of the relative value of different scientific procedures, we succeed in forming a school of scientific criticism, and in assisting the development of the doctrine of method. but admitting that a practical acquaintance with the methods of physical science is an essential part of a mathematical and scientific education, we may be asked whether we are not attributing too much importance to science altogether as part of a liberal education. fortunately, there is no question here whether the university should continue to be a place of liberal education, or should devote itself to preparing young men for particular professions. hence though some of us may, i hope, see reason to make the pursuit of science the main business of our lives, it must be one of our most constant aims to maintain a living connexion between our work and the other liberal studies of cambridge, whether literary, philological, historical or philosophical. there is a narrow professional spirit which may grow up among men of science, just as it does among men who practise any other special business. but surely a university is the very place where we should be able to overcome this tendency of men to become, as it were, granulated into small worlds, which are all the more worldly for their very smallness. we lose the advantage of having men of varied pursuits collected into one body, if we do not endeavour to imbibe some of the spirit even of those whose special branch of learning is different from our own. it is not so long ago since any man who devoted himself to geometry, or to any science requiring continued application, was looked upon as necessarily a misanthrope, who must have abandoned all human interests, and betaken himself to abstractions so far removed from the world of life and action that he has become insensible alike to the attractions of pleasure and to the claims of duty. in the present day, men of science are not looked upon with the same awe or with the same suspicion. they are supposed to be in league with the material spirit of the age, and to form a kind of advanced radical party among men of learning. we are not here to defend literary and historical studies. we admit that the proper study of mankind is man. but is the student of science to be withdrawn from the study of man, or cut off from every noble feeling, so long as he lives in intellectual fellowship with men who have devoted their lives to the discovery of truth, and the results of whose enquiries have impressed themselves on the ordinary speech and way of thinking of men who never heard their names? or is the student of history and of man to omit from his consideration the history of the origin and diffusion of those ideas which have produced so great a difference between one age of the world and another? it is true that the history of science is very different from the science of history. we are not studying or attempting to study the working of those blind forces which, we are told, are operating on crowds of obscure people, shaking principalities and powers, and compelling reasonable men to bring events to pass in an order laid down by philosophers. the men whose names are found in the history of science are not mere hypothetical constituents of a crowd, to be reasoned upon only in masses. we recognise them as men like ourselves, and their actions and thoughts, being more free from the influence of passion, and recorded more accurately than those of other men, are all the better materials for the study of the calmer parts of human nature. but the history of science is not restricted to the enumeration of successful investigations. it has to tell of unsuccessful inquiries, and to explain why some of the ablest men have failed to find the key of knowledge, and how the reputation of others has only given a firmer footing to the errors into which they fell. the history of the development, whether normal or abnormal, of ideas is of all subjects that in which we, as thinking men, take the deepest interest. but when the action of the mind passes out of the intellectual stage, in which truth and error are the alternatives, into the more violently emotional states of anger and passion, malice and envy, fury and madness; the student of science, though he is obliged to recognise the powerful influence which these wild forces have exercised on mankind, is perhaps in some measure disqualified from pursuing the study of this part of human nature. but then how few of us are capable of deriving profit from such studies. we cannot enter into full sympathy with these lower phases of our nature without losing some of that antipathy to them which is our surest safeguard against a reversion to a meaner type, and we gladly return to the company of those illustrious men who by aspiring to noble ends, whether intellectual or practical, have risen above the region of storms into a clearer atmosphere, where there is no misrepresentation of opinion, nor ambiguity of expression, but where one mind comes into closest contact with another at the point where both approach nearest to the truth. i propose to lecture during this term on heat, and, as our facilities for experimental work are not yet fully developed, i shall endeavour to place before you the relative position and scientific connexion of the different branches of the science, rather than to discuss the details of experimental methods. we shall begin with thermometry, or the registration of temperatures, and calorimetry, or the measurement of quantities of heat. we shall then go on to thermodynamics, which investigates the relations between the thermal properties of bodies and their other dynamical properties, in so far as these relations may be traced without any assumption as to the particular constitution of these bodies. the principles of thermodynamics throw great light on all the phenomena of nature, and it is probable that many valuable applications of these principles have yet to be made; but we shall have to point out the limits of this science, and to shew that many problems in nature, especially those in which the dissipation of energy comes into play, are not capable of solution by the principles of thermodynamics alone, but that in order to understand them, we are obliged to form some more definite theory of the constitution of bodies. two theories of the constitution of bodies have struggled for victory with various fortunes since the earliest ages of speculation: one is the theory of a universal plenum, the other is that of atoms and void. the theory of the plenum is associated with the doctrine of mathematical continuity, and its mathematical methods are those of the differential calculus, which is the appropriate expression of the relations of continuous quantity. the theory of atoms and void leads us to attach more importance to the doctrines of integral numbers and definite proportions; but, in applying dynamical principles to the motion of immense numbers of atoms, the limitation of our faculties forces us to abandon the attempt to express the exact history of each atom, and to be content with estimating the average condition of a group of atoms large enough to be visible. this method of dealing with groups of atoms, which i may call the statistical method, and which in the present state of our knowledge is the only available method of studying the properties of real bodies, involves an abandonment of strict dynamical principles, and an adoption of the mathematical methods belonging to the theory of probability. it is probable that important results will be obtained by the application of this method, which is as yet little known and is not familiar to our minds. if the actual history of science had been different, and if the scientific doctrines most familiar to us had been those which must be expressed in this way, it is possible that we might have considered the existence of a certain kind of contingency a self-evident truth, and treated the doctrine of philosophical necessity as a mere sophism. about the beginning of this century, the properties of bodies were investigated by several distinguished french mathematicians on the hypothesis that they are systems of molecules in equilibrium. the somewhat unsatisfactory nature of the results of these investigations produced, especially in this country, a reaction in favour of the opposite method of treating bodies as if they were, so far at least as our experiments are concerned, truly continuous. this method, in the hands of green, stokes, and others, has led to results, the value of which does not at all depend on what theory we adopt as to the ultimate constitution of bodies. one very important result of the investigation of the properties of bodies on the hypothesis that they are truly continuous is that it furnishes us with a test by which we can ascertain, by experiments on a real body, to what degree of tenuity it must be reduced before it begins to give evidence that its properties are no longer the same as those of the body in mass. investigations of this kind, combined with a study of various phenomena of diffusion and of dissipation of energy, have recently added greatly to the evidence in favour of the hypothesis that bodies are systems of molecules in motion. i hope to be able to lay before you in the course of the term some of the evidence for the existence of molecules, considered as individual bodies having definite properties. the molecule, as it is presented to the scientific imagination, is a very different body from any of those with which experience has hitherto made us acquainted. in the first place its mass, and the other constants which define its properties, are absolutely invariable; the individual molecule can neither grow nor decay, but remains unchanged amid all the changes of the bodies of which it may form a constituent. in the second place it is not the only molecule of its kind, for there are innumerable other molecules, whose constants are not approximately, but absolutely identical with those of the first molecule, and this whether they are found on the earth, in the sun, or in the fixed stars. by what process of evolution the philosophers of the future will attempt to account for this identity in the properties of such a multitude of bodies, each of them unchangeable in magnitude, and some of them separated from others by distances which astronomy attempts in vain to measure, i cannot conjecture. my mind is limited in its power of speculation, and i am forced to believe that these molecules must have been made as they are from the beginning of their existence. i also conclude that since none of the processes of nature, during their varied action on different individual molecules, have produced, in the course of ages, the slightest difference between the properties of one molecule and those of another, the history of whose combinations has been different, we cannot ascribe either their existence or the identity of their properties to the operation of any of those causes which we call natural. is it true then that our scientific speculations have really penetrated beneath the visible appearance of things, which seem to be subject to generation and corruption, and reached the entrance of that world of order and perfection, which continues this day as it was created, perfect in number and measure and weight? we may be mistaken. no one has as yet seen or handled an individual molecule, and our molecular hypothesis may, in its turn, be supplanted by some new theory of the constitution of matter; but the idea of the existence of unnumbered individual things, all alike and all unchangeable, is one which cannot enter the human mind and remain without fruit. but what if these molecules, indestructible as they are, turn out to be not substances themselves, but mere affections of some other substance? according to sir w. thomson's theory of vortex atoms, the substance of which the molecule consists is a uniformly dense _plenum_, the properties of which are those of a perfect fluid, the molecule itself being nothing but a certain motion impressed on a portion of this fluid, and this motion is shewn, by a theorem due to helmholtz, to be as indestructible as we believe a portion of matter to be. if a theory of this kind is true, or even if it is conceivable, our idea of matter may have been introduced into our minds through our experience of those systems of vortices which we call bodies, but which are not substances, but motions of a substance; and yet the idea which we have thus acquired of matter, as a substance possessing inertia, may be truly applicable to that fluid of which the vortices are the motion, but of whose existence, apart from the vortical motion of some of its parts, our experience gives us no evidence whatever. it has been asserted that metaphysical speculation is a thing of the past, and that physical science has extirpated it. the discussion of the categories of existence, however, does not appear to be in danger of coming to an end in our time, and the exercise of speculation continues as fascinating to every fresh mind as it was in the days of thales. transcriber's note this is volume of a -volume set. the other two volumes are also accessible in project gutenberg using http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/ and http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/ . italic text is denoted by _underscores_. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. more detail can be found at the end of the book. the works of benjamin franklin, l.l.d. vol. . [illustration: (stalker sculptor.)] printed, for longman, hurst, rees & orme, paternoster row, london. the complete works, in philosophy, politics, and morals, of the late dr. benjamin franklin, now first collected and arranged: with memoirs of his early life, written by himself. in three volumes. vol. iii. london: printed for j. johnson, st. paul's church-yard; and longman, hurst, rees, and orme, paternoster-row. . james cundee, printer, london. contents. vol. iii. papers on american subjects before the revolutionary troubles. _page._ albany papers; containing, i. reasons and motives on which the plan of union for the colonies was formed;--ii. reasons against partial unions;--iii. and the plan of union drawn by b. f. and unanimously agreed to by the commissioners from new hampshire, massachusett's bay, rhode island, new jersey, maryland, and pensylvania, met in congress at albany, in july , to consider of the best means of defending the king's dominions in america, &c. a war being then apprehended; with the reasons or motives for each article of the plan albany papers continued. i. letter to governor shirley, concerning the imposition of direct taxes upon the colonies, without their consent ii. letter to the same; concerning direct taxes in the colonies imposed without consent, indirect taxes, and the albany plan of union iii. letter to the same, on the subject of uniting the colonies more intimately with great britain, by allowing them representatives in parliament plan for settling two western colonies in north america, with reasons for the plan, report of the committee of aggrievances of the assembly of pensylvania, dated feb. , an historical review of the constitution and government of pensylvania, from its origin; so far as regards the several points of controversy which have, from time to time, arisen between the several governors of that province, and their several assemblies. founded on authentic documents the interest of great britain considered, with regard to her colonies, and the acquisitions of canada and guadaloupe remarks and facts relative to the american paper-money to the freemen of pensylvania, on the subject of a particular militia-bill, rejected by the proprietor's deputy or governor preface by a member of the pensylvanian assembly (dr. franklin) to the speech of joseph galloway, esq. one of the members for philadelphia county; in answer to the speech of john dickinson, esq. delivered in the house of the assembly of the province of pensylvania, may , , on occasion of a petition drawn up by order, and then under the consideration of the house, praying his majesty for a royal, in lieu of a proprietary government remarks on a late protest against the appointment of mr. franklin as agent for this province (of pensylvania) remarks on a plan for the future management of indian affairs papers on american subjects during the revolutionary troubles. causes of the american discontents before letter concerning the gratitude of america, and the probability and effects of an union with great britain; and concerning the repeal or suspension of the stamp act letter from governor pownall to dr. franklin, concerning an equal communication of rights, privileges, &c. to america by great britain minutes to the foregoing, by dr. franklin the examination of dr. franklin before the english house of commons, in february, , relative to the repeal of the american stamp act attempts of dr. franklin for conciliation of great britain with the colonies queries from mr. strahan answer to the preceding queries state of the constitution of the colonies, by governor pownall; with remarks by dr. franklin concerning the dissentions between england and america a prussian edict, assuming claims over britain preface by the british editor (dr. franklin) to "the votes and proceedings of the freeholders, and other inhabitants of the town of boston, in town-meeting assembled according to law (published by order of the town), &c." account of governor hutchinson's letters rules for reducing a great empire to a small one, presented to a late minister, when he entered upon his administration state of america on dr. franklin's arrival there proposed vindication and offer from congress to parliament, in reprobation of mr. strahan's parliamentary conduct conciliation hopeless from the conduct of great britain to america account of the first campaign made by the british forces in america probability of a separation letter to monsieur dumas, urging him to sound the several courts of europe, by means of their ambassadors at the hague, as to any assistance they may be disposed to afford america in her struggle for independence letter from lord howe to dr. franklin dr. franklin's answer to lord howe comparison of great britain and america as to credit, in papers, descriptive of america, or relating to that country, written subsequent to the revolution. remarks concerning the savages of north america the internal state of america; being a true description of the interest and policy of that vast continent information to those who would remove to america concerning new settlements in america a comparison of the conduct of the ancient jews, and of the antifederalists in the united states of america final speech of dr. franklin in the late federal convention papers on moral subjects and the economy of life. the busy-body the way to wealth, as clearly shown in the preface of an old pensylvania almanack, intitled, poor richard improved advice to a young tradesman necessary hints to those that would be rich the way to make money plenty in every man's pocket new mode of lending money an economical project on early marriages effect of early impressions on the mind the whistle a petition to those who have the superintendency of education the handsome and deformed leg morals of chess the art of procuring pleasant dreams dialogue between franklin and the gout on the death of relatives the ephemera an emblem of human life appendix, no. i.--containing papers proper for insertion, but omitted in the preceding volumes. letter to sir hans sloane letter to michael collinson, esq. letter respecting captain cook an address to the public, from the pensylvania society for promoting the abolition of slavery, and the relief of free negroes, unlawfully held in bondage plan for improving the condition of the free blacks paper: a poem plain truth; or, serious considerations on the present state of the city of philadelphia, and province of pensylvania four letters to mr. whetley * appendix, no. ii.--containing letters by several eminent persons, illustrative of dr. franklin's manners and character. letter from the late dr. price to a gentleman in america letter from mr. thomas jefferson to the late dr. william smith, of philadelphia letter from the late dr. joseph priestly _errata._ _page._ _line._ from the bottom: for day, read lay. , for iuppose, read suppose. from the bottom: for cruger, read stuber. from the bottom: for pleiads, read pleiades. papers on american subjects before the _revolutionary troubles_. [_the papers under the present head, of american politics before the troubles, in the volume of dr. franklin's works, printed for johnson in , from which they are nearly all taken, were divided into two parts, as if distinct from each other, viz. papers on american subjects before the troubles; and papers on subjects of provincial politics. as we can see no grounds for this distinction, we have brought them together, and have placed them in the order of their dates, conceiving such to be the natural order of papers furnishing materials for history._] papers on american subjects, before the _revolutionary troubles_. albany papers. _containing_, i. _reasons and motives on which the_ plan _of_ union _for the_ colonies _was formed_;--ii. _reasons against partial unions_;--iii. _and the plan of union drawn by b. f. and unanimously agreed to by the commissioners from new hampshire, massachusett's bay, rhode island, new jersey, maryland, and pensylvania[ ], met in congress at albany, in july , to consider of the best means of defending the king's dominions in america, &c. a war being then apprehended; with the reasons or motives for each article of the plan._ b. f. was one of the four commissioners from pensylvania[ ]. i. _reasons and motives on which the plan of union was formed._ the commissioners from a number of the northern colonies being met at albany, and considering the difficulties that have always attended the most necessary general measures for the common defence, or for the annoyance of the enemy, when they were to be carried through the several particular assemblies of all the colonies; some assemblies being before at variance with their governors or councils, and the several branches of the government not on terms of doing business with each other; others taking the opportunity, when their concurrence is wanted, to push for favourite laws, powers, or points, that they think could not at other times be obtained, and so creating disputes and quarrels; one assembly waiting to see what another will do, being afraid of doing more than its share, or desirous of doing less; or refusing to do any thing, because its country is not at present so much exposed as others, or because another will reap more immediate advantage; from one or other of which causes, the assemblies of six (out of seven) colonies applied to, had granted no assistance to virginia, when lately invaded by the french, though purposely convened, and the importance of the occasion earnestly urged upon them; considering moreover, that one principal encouragement to the french, in invading and insulting the british american dominions, was their knowledge of our disunited state, and of our weakness arising from such want of union; and that from hence different colonies were, at different times, extremely harassed, and put to great expence both of blood and treasure, who would have remained in peace, if the enemy had had cause to fear the drawing on themselves the resentment and power of the whole; the said commissioners, considering also the present incroachments of the french, and the mischievous consequences that may be expected from them, if not opposed with our force, came to an unanimous resolution,--_that an union of the colonies is absolutely necessary for their preservation_. the manner of forming and establishing this union was the next point. when it was considered, that the colonies were seldom all in equal danger at the same time, or equally near the danger, or equally sensible of it; that some of them had particular interests to manage, with which an union might interfere; and that they were extremely jealous of each other; it was thought impracticable to obtain a joint agreement of all the colonies to an union, in which the expence and burthen of defending any of them should be divided among them all; and if ever acts of assembly in all the colonies could be obtained for that purpose, yet as any colony, on the least dissatisfaction, might repeal its own act and thereby withdraw itself from the union, it would not be a stable one, or such as could be depended on: for if only one colony should, on any disgust withdraw itself, others might think it unjust and unequal that they, by continuing in the union, should be at the expence of defending a colony, which refused to bear its proportionable part, and would therefore one after another, withdraw, till the whole crumbled into its original parts. therefore the commissioners came to another previous resolution, viz. _that it was necessary the union should be established by act of parliament_. they then proceeded to sketch out a _plan of union_, which they did in a plain and concise manner, just sufficient to show their sentiments of the kind of union that would best suit the circumstances of the colonies, be most agreeable to the people, and most effectually promote his majesty's service and the general interest of the british empire. this was respectfully sent to the assemblies of the several colonies for their consideration, and to receive such alterations and improvements as they should think fit and necessary; after which it was proposed to be transmitted to england to be perfected, and the establishment of it there humbly solicited. this was as much as the commissioners could do[ ]. * * * * * ii. _reasons against partial unions._ it was proposed by some of the commissioners, to form the colonies into two or three distinct unions; but for these reasons that proposal was dropped even by those that made it: [viz.] . in all cases where the strength of the whole was necessary to be used against the enemy, there would be the same difficulty in degree, to bring the several unions to unite together, as now the several colonies; and consequently the same delays on our part and advantage to the enemy. . each union would separately be weaker than when joined by the whole, obliged to exert more force, be oppressed by the expence, and the enemy less deterred from attacking it. . where particular colonies have _selfish views_, as new york with regard to indian trade and lands; or are less exposed, being covered by others, as new jersey, rhode island, connecticut, maryland; or have particular whims and prejudices against warlike measures in general, as pensylvania, where the quakers predominate; such colonies would have more weight in a partial union, and be better able to oppose and obstruct the measures necessary for the general good, than where they are swallowed up in the general union. . the indian trade would be better regulated by the union of the whole than by partial unions. and as canada is chiefly supported by that trade, if it could be drawn into the hands of the english (as it might be if the indians were supplied on moderate terms, and by honest traders appointed by and acting for the public) that alone would contribute greatly to the weakening of our enemies. . the establishing of new colonies westward on the ohio and the lakes (a matter of considerable importance to the increase of british trade and power, to the breaking that of the french, and to the protection and security of our present colonies,) would best be carried on by a joint union. . it was also thought, that by the frequent meetings-together of commissioners or representatives from all the colonies, the circumstances of the whole would be better known, and the good of the whole better provided for; and that the colonies would by this connection learn to consider themselves, not as so many independent states, but as members of the same body; and thence be more ready to afford assistance and support to each other, and to make diversions in favour even of the most distant, and to join cordially in any expedition for the benefit of all against the common enemy. these were the principal reasons and motives for forming the plan of union as it stands. to which may be added this, that as the union of the ******* the remainder of this article is lost. iii. _plan of a proposed union of the several colonies of massachusett's bay, new hampshire, connecticut, rhode island, new york, new jersey, pensylvania, maryland, virginia, north carolina, and south carolina, for their mutual defence and security, and for extending the british settlements in north america, with the reasons and motives for each article of the plan [as far as could be remembered.]_ it is proposed--that humble application be made for an act of parliament of great britain, by virtue of which one general government may be formed in america, including all the said colonies, within and under which government each colony may retain its present constitution, except in the particulars wherein a change may be directed by the said act, as hereafter follows[ ]. president general, and grand council. _that the said general government be administered by a president general, to be appointed and supported by the crown; and a grand council, to be chosen by the representatives of the people of the several colonies met in their respective assemblies._ it was thought that it would be best the president general should be supported as well as appointed by the crown; that so all disputes between him and the grand council concerning his salary might be prevented; as such disputes have been frequently of mischievous consequence in particular colonies, especially in time of public danger. the quit-rents of crown-lands in america might in a short time be sufficient for this purpose.--the choice of members for the grand council is placed in the house of representatives of each government, in order to give the people a share in this new general government, as the crown has its share by the appointment of the president-general. but it being proposed by the gentlemen of the council of new york, and some other counsellors among the commissioners, to alter the plan in this particular, and to give the governors and council of the several provinces a share in the choice of the grand council, or at least a power of approving and confirming or of disallowing the choice made by the house of representatives, it was said: "that the government or constitution proposed to be formed by the plan, consists of two branches; a president general appointed by the crown, and a council chosen by the people, or by the people's representatives, which is the same thing. "that by a subsequent article, the council chosen by the people can effect nothing without the consent of the president general appointed by the crown; the crown possesses therefore full one half of the power of this constitution. "that in the british constitution, the crown is supposed to possess but one third, the lords having their share. "that this constitution seemed rather more favorable for the crown. "that it is essential, to english liberty, [that] the subject should not be taxed but by his own consent, or the consent of his elected representatives. "that taxes to be laid and levied by this proposed constitution will be proposed and agreed to by the representatives of the people, if the plan in this particular be preserved: "but if the proposed alteration should take place, it seemed as if matters may be so managed, as that the crown shall finally have the appointment not only of the president general, but of a majority of the grand council; for seven out of eleven governors and councils are appointed by the crown: "and so the people in all the colonies would in effect be taxed by their governors. "it was therefore apprehended, that such alterations of the plan would give great dissatisfaction, and that the colonies could not be easy under such a power in governors, and such an infringement of what they take to be english liberty. "besides, the giving a share in the choice of the grand council would not be equal with respect to all the colonies, as their constitutions differ. in some, both governor and council are appointed by the crown. in others, they are both appointed by the proprietors. in some, the people have a share in the choice of the council; in others, both government and council are wholly chosen by the people. but the house of representatives is every where chosen by the people; and therefore, placing the right of choosing the grand council in the representatives is equal with respect to all. "that the grand council is intended to represent all the several houses of representatives of the colonies, as a house of representatives doth the several towns or counties of a colony. could all the people of a colony be consulted and unite in public measures, a house of representatives would be needless: and could all the assemblies conveniently consult and unite in general measures, the grand council would be unnecessary. "that a house of commons or the house of representatives, and the grand council, are thus alike in their nature and intention. and as it would seem improper that the king or house of lords should have a power of disallowing or appointing members of the house of commons;--so likewise, that a governor and council appointed by the crown should have a power of disallowing or appointing members of the grand council (who, in this constitution, are to be the representatives of the people.) "if the governors and councils therefore were to have a share in the choice of any that are to conduct this general government, it should seem more proper that they chose the president-general. but this being an office of great trust and importance to the nation, it was thought better to be filled by the immediate appointment of the crown. "the power proposed to be given by the plan to the grand council is only a concentration of the powers of the several assemblies in certain points for the general welfare; as the power of the president general, is of the powers of the several governors in the same points. "and as the choice therefore of the grand council by the representatives of the people, neither gives the people any new powers, nor diminishes the power of the crown, it was thought and hoped the crown would not disapprove of it." upon the whole, the commissioners were of opinion, that the choice was most properly placed in the representatives of the people. election of members. _that within [___] months after the passing such act, the house of representatives, that happen to be sitting within that time, or that shall be especially for that purpose convened, may and shall choose members for the grand council, in the following proportion, that is to say,_ massachussett's bay new hampshire connecticut rhode island new york new jerseys pennsylvania maryland virginia north carolina south carolina ---- it was thought, that if the least colony was allowed two, and the others in proportion, the number would be very great and the expence heavy; and that less than two would not be convenient, as a single person, being by any accident prevented appearing at the meeting, the colony he ought to appear for would not be represented. that as the choice was not immediately popular, they would be generally men of good abilities for business, and men of reputation for integrity; and that forty-eight such men might be a number sufficient. but, though it was thought reasonable, that each colony should have a share in the representative body in some degree, according to the proportion it contributed to the general treasury: yet the proportion of wealth or power of the colonies is not to be judged by the proportion here fixed; because it was at first agreed, that the greatest colony should not have more than seven members, nor the least less than two: and the settling these proportions between these two extremes was not nicely attended to, as it would find itself, after the first election from the sums brought into the treasury, as by a subsequent article. place of first meeting. --_who shall meet for the first time at the city of philadelphia pensylvania, being called by the president-general as soon as conveniently may be after his appointment._ philadelphia was named as being the nearer the centre of the colonies, where the commissioners would be well and cheaply accommodated. the high-roads, through the whole extent, are for the most part very good, in which forty or fifty miles a day may very well be and frequently are travelled. great part of the way may likewise he gone by water. in summer time, the passages are frequently performed in a week from charles town to philadelphia and new york; and from rhode island to new york through the sound, in two or three days; and from new york to philadelphia, by water and land, in two days, by stage boats and wheel-carriages that set out every other day. the journey from charles town to philadelphia may likewise be facilitated by boats running up chesapeak bay three hundred miles. but if the whole journey be performed on horseback, the most distant members (viz. the two from new hampshire and from south carolina) may probably render themselves at philadelphia in fifteen or twenty days; the majority may be there in much less time. new election. _that there shall be a new election of the members of the grand council every three years; and on the death or resignation of any member, his place shall be supplied by a new choice at the next silting of the assembly of the colony he represented._ some colonies have annual assemblies, some continue during a governor's pleasure; three years was thought a reasonable medium, as affording a new member time to improve himself in the business, and to act after such improvement; and yet giving opportunities, frequent enough, to change him, if he has misbehaved. proportion of members after the first three years. _that after the first three years, when the proportion of money arising out of each colony to the general treasury can be known, the number of members to be chosen for each colony shall from time to time, in all ensuing elections, be regulated by that proportion (yet so as that the number to be chosen by any one province be not more than seven, nor less than two.)_ by a subsequent article it is proposed, that the general council shall lay and levy such general duties, as to them may appear most equal and least burthensome, &c. suppose, for instance, they lay a small duty or excise on some commodity imported into or made in the colonies, and pretty generally and equally used in all of them; as rum perhaps, or wine; the yearly produce of this duty or excise, if fairly collected, would be in some colonies greater, in others less, as the colonies are greater or smaller. when the collector's accounts are brought in, the proportions will appear; and from them it is proposed to regulate the proportion of representatives to be chosen at the next general election, within the limits however of seven and two. these numbers may therefore vary in course of years, as the colonies may in the growth and increase of people. and thus the quota of tax from each colony would naturally vary with its circumstances; thereby preventing all disputes and dissatisfactions about the just proportions due from each; which might otherwise produce pernicious consequences, and destroy the harmony and good agreement that ought to subsist between the several parts of the union. meetings of the grand council, and call. _that the grand council shall meet once in every year, and oftener if occasion require, at such time and place as they shall adjourn to at the last preceding meeting, or as they shall be called to meet at by the president general on any emergency; he having first obtained in writing the consent of seven of the members to such call, and sent due and timely notice to the whole._ it was thought, in establishing and governing new colonies or settlements, regulating indian trade, indian treaties, &c. there would be every year sufficient business arise to require at least one meeting, and at such meeting many things might be suggested for the benefit of all the colonies. this annual meeting may either be at a time or place certain, to be fixed by the president general and grand council at their first meeting; or left at liberty, to be at such time and place as they shall adjourn to, or be called to meet at by the president general. in time of war it seems convenient, that the meeting should be in that colony, which is nearest the seat of action. the power of calling them on any emergency seemed necessary to be vested in the president general; but that such power might not be wantonly used to harass the members, and oblige them to make frequent long journies to little purpose, the consent of seven at least to such call was supposed a convenient guard. continuance. _that the grand council have power to choose their speaker; and shall neither be dissolved, prorogued, nor continued sitting longer than six weeks at one time, without their own consent or the special command of the crown._ the speaker should be presented for approbation; it being convenient, to prevent misunderstandings and disgusts, that the mouth of the council should be a person agreeable, if possible, both to the council and president general. governors have sometimes wantonly exercised the power of proroguing or continuing the sessions of assemblies, merely to harass the members and compel a compliance; and sometimes dissolve them on slight disgusts. this it was feared might be done by the president general, if not provided against: and the inconvenience and hardship would be greater in the general government than in particular colonies, in proportion to the distance the members must be from home, during sittings, and the long journies some of them must necessarily take. members' allowance. _that the members of the grand council shall be allowed for their service ten shillings sterling per diem, during their session and journey to and from the place of meeting; twenty miles to be reckoned a day's journey._ it was thought proper to allow _some_ wages, lest the expence might deter some suitable persons from the service;--and not to allow _too great_ wages, lest unsuitable persons should be tempted to cabal for the employment, for the sake of gain. twenty miles was set down as a day's journey, to allow for accidental hinderances on the road, and the greater expences of travelling than residing at the place of meeting. assent of president general and his duty. _that the assent of the president general be requisite to all acts of the grand council; and that it be his office and duty to cause them to be carried into execution._ the assent of the president general, to all acts of the grand council was made necessary, in order to give the crown its due share of influence in this government, and connect it with that of great britain. the president general, besides one half of the legislative power, hath in his hands the whole executive power. power of president general and grand council. treaties of peace and war. _that the president general, with the advice of the grand council, hold or direct all indian treaties in which the general interest of the colonies may be concerned; and make peace or declare war with indian nations._ the power of making peace or war with indian nations is at present supposed to be in every colony, and is expressly granted to some by charter, so that no new power is hereby intended to be granted to the colonies. but as, in consequence of this power, one colony might make peace with a nation that another was justly engaged in war with; or make war on slight occasions without the concurrence or approbation of neighbouring colonies, greatly endangered by it; or make particular treaties of neutrality in case of a general war, to their own private advantage in trade, by supplying the common enemy; of all which there have been instances--it was thought better, to have all treaties of a general nature under a general direction; that so the good of the whole may be consulted and provided for. indian trade. _that they make such laws as they judge necessary for regulating all indian trade._ many quarrels and wars have arisen between the colonies and indian nations, through the bad conduct of traders, who cheat the indians after making them drunk, &c. to the great expence of the colonies both in blood and treasure. particular colonies are so interested in the trade as not to be willing to admit such a regulation as might be best for the whole; and therefore it was thought best under a general direction. indian purchases. _that they make all purchases, from indians for the crown, of lands not now within the bounds of particular colonies, or that shall not be within their bounds when some of them are reduced to more convenient dimensions._ purchases from the indians, made by private persons, have been attended with many inconveniences. they have frequently interfered, and occasioned uncertainty of titles, many disputes and expensive law-suits, and hindered the settlement of the land so disputed. then the indians have been cheated by such private purchases, and discontent and wars have been the consequence. these would be prevented by public fair purchases. several of the colony charters in america extend their bounds to the south sea, which may be perhaps three or four thousand miles in length to one or two hundred miles in breadth. it is supposed they must in time be reduced to dimensions more convenient for the common purposes of government[ ]. very little of the land in those grants is yet purchased of the indians. it is much cheaper to purchase of them, than to take and maintain the possession by force: for they are generally very reasonable in their demands for land[ ]; and the expence of guarding a large frontier against their incursions is vastly great; because all must be guarded, and always guarded, as we know not where or when _to expect them_[ ]. new settlements. _that they make new settlements on such purchases, by granting lands in the king's name, reserving a quit-rent to the crown for the use of the general treasury._ it is supposed better that there should be one purchaser than many; and that the crown should be that purchaser, or the union in the name of the crown. by this means the bargains may be more easily made, the price not inhanced by numerous bidders, future disputes about private indian purchases, and monopolies of vast tracts to particular persons (which are prejudicial to the settlement and peopling of country) prevented; and the land being again granted in small tracts to the settlers, the quit-rents reserved may in time become a fund for support of government, for defence of the country, ease of taxes, &c. strong forts on the lakes, the ohio, &c. may, at the same time they secure our present frontiers, serve to defend new colonies settled under their protection; and such colonies would also mutually defend and support such forts, and better secure the friendship of the far indians. a particular colony has scarce strength enough to extend itself by new settlements, at so great a distance from the old: but the joint force of the union might suddenly establish a new colony or two in those parts, or extend an old colony to particular passes, greatly to the security of our present frontiers, increase of trade and people, breaking off the french communication between canada and louisiana, and speedy settlement of the intermediate lands. the power of settling new colonies is therefore thought a valuable part of the plan, and what cannot so well be executed by two unions as by one. laws to govern them. _that they make laws for regulating and governing such new settlements, till the crown shall think fit to form them into particular governments._ the making of laws suitable for the new colonies, it was thought, would be properly vested in the president general and grand council; under whose protection they will at first necessarily be, and who would be well acquainted with their circumstances, as having settled them. when they are become sufficiently populous, they may by the crown be formed into complete and distinct governments. the appointment of a sub-president by the crown, to take place in case of the death or absence of the president general, would perhaps be an improvement of the plan; and if all the governors of particular provinces were to be formed into a standing council of state, for the advice and assistance of the president general, it might be another considerable improvement. raise soldiers and equip vessels, &c. _that they raise and pay soldiers and build forts for the defence of any of the colonies, and equip vessels of force to guard the coasts and protect the trade on the ocean, lakes[ ], or great rivers; but they shall not impress men in any colony, without the consent of the legislature._ it was thought, that quotas of men, to be raised and paid by the several colonies, and joined for any public service, could not always be got together with the necessary expedition. for instance, suppose one thousand men should be wanted in new hampshire on any emergency; to fetch them by fifties and hundreds out of every colony, as far as south carolina, would be inconvenient, the transportation chargeable and the occasion perhaps passed before they could be assembled; and therefore, that it would be best to raise them (by offering bounty-money and pay) near the place where they would be wanted, to be discharged again when the service should be over. particular colonies are at present backward to build forts at their own expence, which they say will be equally useful to their neighbouring colonies; who refuse to join, on a presumption that such forts _will_ be built and kept up, though they contribute nothing. this unjust conduct weakens the whole; but the forts being for the good of the whole, it was thought best they should be built and maintained by the whole, out of the common treasury. in the time of war, small vessels of force are sometimes necessary in the colonies to scour the coast of small privateers. these being provided by the union will be an advantage in turn to the colonies which are situated on the sea, and whose frontiers on the land-side, being covered by other colonies, reap but little immediate benefit from the advanced forts. power to make laws, lay duties, &c. _that for these purposes they have power to make laws, and lay and levy such general duties, imports, or taxes, as to them shall appear most equal and just (considering the ability and other circumstances of the inhabitants in the several colonies,) and such as may be collected with the least inconvenience to the people; rather discouraging luxury, than loading industry with unnecessary burthens._ the laws which the president general and grand council are impowered to make _are such only_ as shall be necessary for the government of the settlements; the raising, regulating, and paying soldiers for the general service; the regulating of indian trade; and laying and collecting the general duties and taxes. (they should also have a power to restrain the exportation of provisions to the enemy from any of the colonies, on particular occasions, in time of war.) but is it not intended that they may interfere with the constitution and government of the particular colonies; who are to be left to their own laws, and to lay, levy, and apply their own taxes as before. general treasurer and particular treasurer. _that they may appoint a general treasurer and particular treasurer in each government when necessary; and from time to time may order the sums in the treasuries of each government into the general treasury; or draw on them for special payments, as they find most convenient._ the treasurers here meant are only for the general funds, and not for the particular funds of each colony, which remain in the hands of their own treasurers at their own disposal. money how to issue. _yet no money to issue but by joint orders of the president general and grand council; except where sums have been appropriated to particular purposes, and the president general is previously impowered by an act to draw for such sums._ to prevent misapplication of the money, or even application that might be dissatisfactory to the crown or the people, it was thought necessary, to join the president general and grand council in all issues of money. accounts. _that the general accounts shall be yearly settled and reported to the several assemblies._ by communicating the accounts yearly to each assembly, they will be satisfied of the prudent and honest conduct of their representatives in the grand council. quorum. _that a quorum of the grand council, impowered to act with the president general, do consist of twenty-five members; among whom there shall be one or more from a majority of the colonies._ the quorum seems large, but it was thought it would not be satisfactory to the colonies in general, to have matters of importance to the whole transacted by a smaller number, or even by this number of twenty-five, unless there were among them one at least from a majority of the colonies; because otherwise, the whole quorum being made up of members from three or four colonies at one end of the union, something might be done that would not be equal with respect to the rest, and thence dissatisfactions and discords might rise to the prejudice of the whole. laws to be transmitted. _that the laws made by them for the purposes aforesaid shall not be repugnant, but, as near as may be, agreeable to the laws of england, and shall be transmitted to the king in council for approbation as soon as may be after their passing; and if not disapproved within three years after presentation, to remain in force._ this was thought necessary for the satisfaction of the crown, to preserve the connection of the parts of the british empire with the whole, of the members with the head, and to induce greater care and circumspection in making of the laws, that they be good in themselves and for the general benefit. death of the president general. _that in case of the death of the president general, the speaker of the grand council for the time being shall succeed, and be vested with the same powers and authorities, to continue till the king's pleasure be known._ it might be better, perhaps, as was said before, if the crown appointed a vice president, to take place on the death or absence of the president general; for so we should be more sure of a suitable person at the head of the colonies. on the death or absence of both, the speaker to take place (or rather the eldest king's-governor) till his majesty's pleasure be known. officers how appointed. _that all military commission officers, whether for land or sea-service, to act under this general constitution, shall be nominated by the president general; but the approbation of the grand council is to be obtained, before they receive their commissions. and all civil officers are to be nominated by the grand council, and to receive the president general's approbation before they officiate._ it was thought it might be very prejudicial to the service, to have officers appointed unknown to the people, or unacceptable, the generality of americans serving willingly under officers they know: and not caring to engage in the service under strangers, or such as are often appointed by governors through favour or interest. the service here meant, is not the stated settled service in standing troops; but any sudden and short service, either for defence of our own colonies, or invading the enemies country; (such as, the expedition to cape breton in the last war; in which many substantial farmers and tradesmen engaged as common soldiers under officers of their own country, for whom they had an esteem and affection; who would not have engaged in a standing army, or under officers from england.)--it was therefore thought best, to give the council the power of approving the officers, which the people will look upon as a great security of their being good men. and without some such provision as this, it was thought the expence of engaging men in the service on any emergency would be much greater, and the number who could be induced to engage much less; and that therefore it would be most for the king's service and general benefit of the nation, that the prerogative should relax a little in this particular throughout all the colonies in america; as it had already done much more in the charters of some particular colonies, viz. connecticut and rhode island. the civil officers will be chiefly treasurers and collectors of taxes; and the suitable persons are most likely to be known by the council. vacancies how supplied. _but in case of vacancy by death, or removal of any officer civil or military under this constitution, the governor of the province in which such vacancy happens may appoint, till the pleasure of the president general and grand council can be known._ the vacancies were thought best supplied by the governors in each province, till a new appointment can be regularly made; otherwise the service might suffer before the meeting of the president general and grand council. each colony may defend itself on emergency, &c. _that the particular military as well as civil establishments in each colony remain in their present state, the general constitution notwithstanding; and that on sudden emergencies any colony may defend itself, and lay the accounts of expence thence arising before the president general and general council, who may allow and order payment of the same, as far as they judge such accounts just and reasonable._ otherwise the union of the whole would weaken the parts, contrary to the design of the union. the accounts are to be judged of by the president general and grand council, and allowed if found reasonable: this was thought necessary to encourage colonies to defend themselves, as the expence would be light when borne by the whole; and also to check imprudent and lavish expence in such defences.[ ] footnotes: [ ] the reader must be informed here, that this plan was intended for all the colonies; but, commissioners from some of them not attending (from causes which i cannot specify) their consent to it was not, in this respect, universally expressed. governor pownall, however, says, "that he had an opportunity of conversing with, and knowing the sentiments of the commissioners appointed by their respective provinces, to attend this congress, to which they were called by the crown; of learning from their experience and judgment, the actual state of the american business and interest; and of hearing amongst them, the grounds and reasons of that american union, which they then had under deliberation, and transmitted the plan of to england;" and he adds, in another place, "that the sentiments of our colonies were collected in an authentic manner on this subject in the plan proposed by dr. franklin, and unanimously agreed to in congress." see governor pownall's administration of the british colonies. vol. i. p. . edit. , , and vol. ii. p. . b. v. [ ] "mr. [since governor] hutchinson was one of the commissioners for massachusetts bay." governor pownall as above, vol. ii. p. . "thomas pownall, esq.; brother to john pownall, esq.; one of the secretaries to the board of trade, and afterwards governor of the massachusetts, was upon the spot." history of the british empire in north america, p. . b. v. [ ] dr. davenant was so well convinced of the expediency of an union of the colonies, that he recites, at full length, a plan contrived, as he says, with good judgment for the purpose. davenant, vol. i. p. , , of sir c. whitworth's edition. b. v. [ ] the reader may perceive, by the difference of the type, which is the text of the plan, and which the _reasons and motives_ mentioned in the title. they are thus consolidated for his convenience. the editor has taken one or two farther liberties in _transposing_ these albany papers; but the sense remains as before. b. v. [ ] mr. baron m----, in page of his account of the proceedings at quebec, for obtaining an assembly, has the following hint: "the vast enlargement of the province of quebec by adding to it a new territory that contains, according to lord hillsborough's estimation, of it, five hundred and eleven millions of acres (that is, more land than spain, italy, france, and germany put together, and most of it good land) is a measure that would require an ample discussion."----that the reader may not suspect that these dimensions were convenient for uncommon purposes of government, i shall quote the motives assigned upon this occasion by the act regulating the government of quebec. "by the arrangements made by the royal proclamation, a very large extent of [outlying] country, within which there were several colonies and settlements of the subjects of france, who claimed to remain therein under the faith of the said treaty, was left without any provision being made for the administration of civil government therein:" _i. e._ a few indian traders were a pretext for this appropriation of a tract of country, which, according to the minister's estimate, was more than thirteen times larger than england and wales united, nearly one hundred and twenty eight times larger than jamaica, almost one-eighth part of europe, and considerably more than one-thirty-eighth part of the whole habitable earth (comparing it with the several calculations in the political survey of great britain, by dr. campbell, and in that of jamaica, by mr. long.) "now _all_ the inhabitants of the province of quebec," says this very act, "amounted at the conquest to above sixty-five thousand [only,] professing the religion of the church of rome, and enjoying an established form of constitution and system of laws." b.v. [ ] "dr. franklin (says mr. kalm the swede,) and several other gentlemen, frequently told me, that a powerful indian, who possessed rhode island, had sold it to the english for a pair of spectacles: it is large enough for a prince's domain, and makes a peculiar government at present. this indian knew how to set a true value upon a pair of spectacles: for undoubtedly if those glasses were not so plentiful, and only a few of them could be found, they would, on account of their great use, bear the same price with diamonds." see kalm's travels into north america, vol. i. p. , . "at the time when the swedes first arrived, they bought land at a very inconsiderable price. for a piece of baize, or a pot full of brandy, or the like, they could get a piece of ground, which at present would be worth more than _l._ sterling." ib. vol. ii. p. .--the truth is, that the indians considered their lands as mere _hunting-manors_, and not as farms. b. v. [ ] to guard against the incursions of the indians, a plan was sent over to america (and, as i think, by authority) suggesting the expediency of clearing away the woods and bushes from a tract of land, a mile in breadth, and extending along the back of the colonies. unfortunately, besides the large expence of this undertaking (which, if one acre cost _l._ sterling, and six hundred and forty acres make a square mile, is , _l._ _first cost_ for every miles) it was forgotten, that the indians, like other people, knew the difference between day and night, and that a mile of advance and another of retreat were nothing to the celerity of such an enemy.--this plan, it is said, was the work of dean tucker; and possibly might contain many other particulars. the plans of doctor franklin and governor pownall appear much more feasible. b. v. [ ] "according to a plan which had been proposed by governor pownall, and approved of by congress."--administration of the colonies, vol. ii. p. . b. v. [ ] this plan of union, it will appear from the next page, was rejected; and another proposed to be substituted by the english minister, which had for its chief object, the taking power from the _people_ in the colonies in order to give it to the _crown_. b. v. albany papers continued. i. letter _to governor shirley, concerning the imposition of direct taxes upon the colonies, without their consent_.[ ] _tuesday morning._ 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 representation. it is very possible, that this general government might be as well and faithfully administered without the people, as with them; but where heavy burdens are to be laid upon 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. footnote: [ ] these letters to governor shirley first appeared in the london chronicle for feb. - , , with an introduction signed _a lover of britain_. in the beginning of the year , they were republished in almon's remembrancer, with an additional prefatory piece, under the signature of _a mourner over our calamities_.--i shall explain the subject of them in the words of one of these writers. "the albany plan of union was sent to the government here for approbation: had it been approved and established by authority from hence, english america thought itself sufficiently able to cope with the french, without other assistance; several of the colonies having alone, in former wars, withstood the whole power of the enemy, unassisted not only by the mother-country, but by any of the neighbouring provinces.--the plan, however, was not approved here; but a _new one_ was formed instead of it; by which it was proposed, that 'the governors of all the colonies, attended by one or two members of their respective councils, should assemble, and concert measures for the defence of the whole, erect forts where they judged proper, and raise what troops they thought necessary, with power to draw on the treasury here for the sums that should be wanted, and the treasury to be reimbursed by a _tax laid on the colonies by act of parliament_.'--this _new plan_ being communicated by governor shirley to a gentleman of philadelphia (dr. franklin) then in boston (who hath very eminently distinguished himself, before and since that time, in the literary world, and whose judgment, penetration, and candor, as well as his readiness and ability to suggest, forward, or carry into execution, every scheme of public utility, hath most deservedly endeared him, not only to our fellow-subjects throughout the continent of north america, but to his numberless friends on this side the atlantic) occasioned the following remarks from him, which perhaps may contribute in some degree to its being laid aside. as they very particularly show the then sentiments of the americans on the subject of a parliamentary tax, before the french power in that country was subjected, and before the late restraints on their commerce; they satisfy me, and i hope they will convince your readers (contrary to what has been advanced by some of your correspondents) that those particulars have had no share in producing the present opposition to such a tax, nor in disturbances occasioned by it, which these papers indeed do almost prophetically foretel. for this purpose, having accidentally fallen into my hands, they are communicated to you by one who is, not _partially_, but in the _most enlarged sense_, "a lover of britain." b. v. ii. letter _to the same; concerning direct taxes in the colonies imposed without consent, indirect taxes, and the albany plan of union_. _wednesday morning._ 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, as well as the taxing them by act of parliament, where they have no representation. in matters of general concern to the people, and especially where burdens 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 connections 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 dependents. that the counsellors in most of the colonies, being appointed by the crown, on the recommendation of governors, are often persons of small estates, frequently dependent 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 drafts on the lords of the treasury, to be 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 dependents, 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, shows a 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 be easily 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 discontentment 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 one thousand five hundred miles long, without the approbation or the consent of their representatives first obtained to such expeditions, might be grievous and ruinous to the people, and would put them upon a footing with the subjects of france in canada, that now groan under such oppression from their governor, who for two years past has harrassed 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 which 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 sea coasts 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, as the frontiers of 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 landholder or artificer must enter into and increase the price of the produce of land and 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 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 encreasing 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 kinds 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 council so appointed, not having the 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. iii. letter _to the same, on the subject of uniting the colonies more intimately with great britain, by allowing them representatives in parliament_. _boston, dec. , ._ 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 an 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 re-enact 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 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 natural 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 instruction; 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 an union, the people of great britain, and the people of the colonies, would learn to consider themselves, as not belonging to different communities with different interest, 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 enow to fight in its defence, and enow 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 manufacturer lives 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 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 countries 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 lands; for being in different climates, they afford greater variety of produce, and materials for more manufactures; 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 is 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 risque 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 humble servant, b. franklin. _plan for settling two western colonies in north america, with reasons for the plan, [ ]._ the great country back of the apalachian mountains, on both sides the ohio, and between that river and the lakes is now well known, both to the english and french, to be one of the finest in north america, for the extreme richness and fertility of the land; the healthy temperature of the air, and mildness of the climate; the plenty of hunting, fishing, and fowling; the facility of trade with the indians; and the vast convenience of inland navigation or water-carriage by the lakes and great rivers, many hundred of leagues around. from these natural advantages it must undoubtedly (perhaps in less than another century) become a populous and powerful dominion; and a great accession of power, either to england or france. the french are now making open encroachments on these territories, in defiance of our known rights; and, if we longer delay to settle that country, and suffer them to possess it,--these _inconveniences and mischiefs_ will probably follow: . our people, being confined to the country between the sea and the mountains, cannot much more increase in number; people increasing in proportion to their room and means of subsistence. (see the observations on the increase of mankind, &c. vol. ii.) . the french will increase much more, by that acquired room and plenty of subsistence, and become a great people behind us. . many of our debtors, and loose english people, our german servants, and slaves, will probably desert to them, and increase their numbers and strength, to the lessening and weakening of ours. . they will cut us off from all commerce and alliance with the western indians, to the great prejudice of britain, by preventing the sale and consumption of its manufactures. . they will both in time of peace and war (as they have always done against new england) set the indians on to harrass our frontiers, kill and scalp our people, and drive in the advanced settlers; and so, in preventing our obtaining more subsistence by cultivating of new lands, they discourage our marriages, and keep our people from increasing; thus (if the expression may be allowed) killing thousands of our children before they are born. -- -- -- if two strong colonies of english were settled between the ohio and lake erie, in the places hereafter to be mentioned,--these advantages might be expected: . they would be a great security to the frontiers of our other colonies; by preventing the incursions of the french and french indians of canada, on the back parts of pensylvania, maryland, virginia, and the carolinas; and the frontiers of such new colonies would be much more easily defended, than those of the colonies last mentioned now can be, as will appear hereafter. . the dreaded junction of the french settlements in canada with those of louisiana would be prevented. . in case of a war, it would be easy, from those new colonies, to annoy louisiana, by going down the ohio and mississippi; and the southern part of canada, by sailing over the lakes; and thereby confine the french within narrower limits. . we should secure the friendship and trade of the miamis or twigtwees (a numerous people, consisting of many tribes, inhabiting the country between the west end of lake erie, and the south end of lake hurons, and the ohio) who are at present dissatisfied with the french, and fond of the english, and would gladly encourage and protect an infant english settlement in or near their country, as some of their chiefs have declared to the writer of this memoir. further, by means of the lakes, the ohio, and the mississippi, our trade might be extended through a vast country, among many numerous and distant nations, greatly to the benefit of britain. . the settlement of all the intermediate lands, between the present frontiers of our colonies on one side, and the lakes and mississippi on the other, would be facilitated and speedily executed, to the great increase of englishmen, english trade, and english power. the grants to most of the colonies are of long narrow slips of land, extending west from the atlantic to the south sea. they are much too long for their breadth; the extremes at too great a distance; and therefore unfit to be continued under their present dimensions. several of the old colonies may conveniently be limited westward by the allegeny or apalachian mountains; and new colonies formed west of those mountains. a single old colony does not seem strong enough to extend itself otherwise than inch by inch: it cannot venture a settlement far distant from the main body, being unable to support it: but if the colonies were united under one governor-general and grand council, agreeable to the albany plan, they might easily, by their joint force, establish one or more new colonies, whenever they should judge it necessary or advantageous to the interest of the whole. but if such union should not take place, it is proposed that two charters be granted, _each_ for some considerable part of the lands west of pensylvania and the virginian mountains, to a number of the nobility and gentry of britain; with such americans as shall join them in contributing to the settlement of those lands, either by paying a proportion of the expence of making such settlements, or by actually going thither in person, and settling themselves and families. that by such charters it be granted, that every actual settler be intitled to a tract of [___] acres for himself, and [___] acres for every poll in the family he carries with him; and that every contributor of [___] guineas be intitled to a quantity of acres, equal to the share of a single settler, for every such sum of [___] guineas contributed and paid to the colony treasurer; a contributor for [___] shares to have an additional share _gratis_; that settlers may likewise be contributors, and have right of land in both capacities. that as many and as great privileges and powers of government be granted to the contributors and settlers, as his majesty in his wisdom shall think most fit for their benefit and encouragement, consistent with the general good of the british empire; for extraordinary privileges and liberties, with lands on easy terms, are strong inducements to people to hazard their persons and fortunes in settling new countries; and such powers of government as (though suitable to the circumstances, and fit to be trusted with an infant colony) might be judged unfit, when it becomes populous and powerful; these might be granted for a term only; as the choice of their own governor for ninety-nine years; the support of government in the colonies of connecticut and rhode island (which _now_ enjoy that and other like privileges) being much less expensive, than in the colonies under the immediate government of the crown, and the constitution more inviting. that the first contributors to the amount of [___] guineas be empowered to choose a treasurer to receive the contribution. that no contributions be paid till the sum of [___] thousand guineas be subscribed. that the money thus raised be applied to the purchase of the lands from the six nations and other indians, and of provisions, stores, arms, ammunition, carriages, &c. for the settlers; who, after having entered their names with the treasurer, or person by him appointed to receive and enter them, are, upon public notice given for that purpose, to rendezvous at a place to be appointed, and march in a body to the place destined for their settlement, under the [charge] of the government to be established over them. such rendezvous and march however not to directed, till the number of names of settlers entered, capable of bearing arms, amount at least to [___] thousand. -- -- -- it is apprehended, that a great sum of money might be raised in america on such a scheme as this; for there are many who would be glad of any opportunity, by advancing a small sum at present, to secure land for their children, which might in a few years become very valuable; and a great number it is thought of actual settlers might likewise be engaged (some from each of our present colonies) sufficient to carry it into full execution by their strength and numbers; provided only, that the crown would be at the expence of removing the little forts the french have erected in their incroachments on his majesty's territories, and supporting a strong one near the falls of niagara, with a few small armed vessels, or half-galleys to cruize on the lakes. * * * * * -- -- -- for the security of this colony in its infancy, a small fort might be erected and for some time maintained at buffalonic on the ohio, above the settlement; and another at the mouth of the hioaga, on the south side of lake erie, where a port should be formed, and a town erected, for the trade of the lakes.--the colonists for _this settlement_ might march by land through pensylvania. -- -- -- the river siotha, which runs into the ohio about two hundred miles below logs town, is supposed the fittest seat for the _other colony_; there being for forty miles on each side of it and quite up to its heads a body of all rich land; the finest spot of its bigness in all north america, and has the particular advantage of sea-coal in plenty (even above ground in two places) for fuel, when the woods shall be destroyed. this colony would have the trade of the miamis or twigtwees; and should, at first, have a small fort near hock-kockin, at the head of the river; and another near the mouth of wabash. sandoski, a french fort near the lake erie, should also be taken; and all the little french forts south and west of the lakes, quite to the mississippi, be removed, or taken and garrisoned by the english.--the colonists for this settlement might assemble near the heads of the rivers in virginia, and march over land to the navigable branches of the kanhawa, where they might embark with all their baggage and provisions, and fall into the ohio, not far above the mouth of siotha. or they might rendezvous at will's creek, and go down the mohingahela to the ohio. the fort and armed vessels at the strait of niagara would be a vast security to the frontiers of these new colonies against any attempts of the french from canada. the fort at the mouth of the wabash would guard that river, the ohio, and cutava river, in case of any attempt from the french of mississippi. (every fort should have a small settlement round it; as the fort would protect the settlers, and the settlers defend the fort and supply it with provisions.) -- -- -- the difficulty of settling the first english colonies in america, at so great a distance from england, must have been vastly greater, than the settling these proposed new colonies: for it would be the interest and advantage of all the present colonies to support these new ones; as they would cover their frontiers, and prevent the growth of the french power behind or near their present settlements; and the new country is nearly at equal distance from all the old colonies, and could easily be assisted from all of them. and as there are already in the old colonies many thousands of families that are ready to swarm, wanting more land; the richness and natural advantage of the ohio country would draw most of them thither, were there but a tolerable prospect of a safe settlement. so that the new colonies would soon be full of people; and from the advantage of their situation, become much more terrible to the french settlements, than those are now to us. the gaining of the back indian trade from the french, by the navigation of the lakes, &c. would of itself greatly weaken our enemies:--it being now their principal support, it seems highly probable, that in time they must be subjected to the british crown, or driven out of the country. such settlements may better be made now, than fifty years hence, because it is easier to settle ourselves, and thereby prevent the french settling there as they seem now to intend, than to remove them when strongly settled. if these settlements are postponed, then more forts and stronger, and more numerous and expensive garrisons must be established, to secure the country, prevent their settling, and secure our present frontiers; the charge of which may probably exceed the charge of the proposed settlements, and the advantage nothing near so great. the fort at oswego should likewise be strengthened, and some armed half-gallies, or other small vessels, kept there to cruise on lake ontario, as proposed by mr. pownall in his paper laid before the commissioners at the albany treaty[ ]. if a fort was also built at tirondequat on lake ontario and a settlement made there near the lake side, where the lands are said to be good, (much better than at oswego;) the people of such settlements would help to defend both forts on any emergency[ ] footnotes: [ ] for the occasion which produced this plan, see what follows. i apprehend it was given to governor pownall, , for the purpose of being inserted in his memorial; but this point of anecdote i cannot sufficiently ascertain. "extract of a memorial drawn up by order of, and presented to his royal highness the duke of cumberland, , by t. pownall. "in other parts of our frontier, that are not the immediate residence and country of indians, some other species of barrier should be thought of, of which nothing can be more effectual than a barrier colony: but even this cannot be carried ... into execution and effect, without the previous measure of _entrepôts_ in the country between us and the enemy.... all mankind must know, that no body of men, whether as an army, or as an emigration of colonists, can march from one country to another, through an inhospitable wilderness, without magazines; nor with any safety, without posts communicating among each other by practicable roads, to which to retire in case of accidents, repulse, or delay. "it is a fact, which experience evinces the truth of, that we have always been able to outsettle the french; and have driven the indians out of the country more by settling than fighting; and that whenever our settlements have been wisely and completely made, the french, neither by themselves nor their dogs of war, the indians, have been able to remove us. it is upon this fact i found the propriety of the measure of settling a barrier colony in those parts of our frontiers, _which are not the immediate residence or hunting-grounds of our_ indians. this is a measure that will be effectual; and will not only in time pay its expence, but make as great returns as any of our present colonies do; will give a strength and unity to our dominions in north america; and give us possession of the country, as well as settlement in it. but above all this, the state and circumstances of our settlements render such a measure not only proper and eligible, but absolutely necessary. the english settlements, as they are at present circumstanced, are absolutely at a stand; they are settled up to the mountains: and in the mountains there is no where together land sufficient for a settlement large enough to subsist by itself, and to defend itself, and preserve a communication with the present settlements. "if the english would advance one step further, or cover themselves where they are, it must be at once, by one large step over the mountains, with a numerous and military colony. where such should be settled, i do not take upon me to say: at present i shall only point out the measure and the nature of it, by inserting two schemes, one of mr. franklin's, the other of your memorialist; and if i might indulge myself with scheming, i should imagine that two such were sufficient, and only requisite and proper: one at the back of virginia, filling up the vacant space between the five nations and southern confederacy, and connecting, into one system, our barrier; the other somewhere in the cohass or connecticut river, or wherever best adapted to cover the new england colonies. these, with the little settlements mentioned above in the indian countries, complete my idea of this branch." see governor pownall's administration of the colonies. vol. ii. p. - , th edition. the reader must carry along with him a distinction between the plans of dr. franklin and governor pownall here referred to. the first (which is before him) is particular, and proposes a plan for _two_ settlements in the unlocated lands to the westward of pensylvania and the virginian mountains, and is totally silent with respect to a settlement in new england: the other treats of the mode of settling new colonies in north america in general, leaving the precise situation to be in some measure pointed out by the foregoing extract. the copy from which this paper is printed, has appearances of being rather incorrectly taken from the original. b. v. [ ] see his work above quoted, vol. ii. p. . _et seq._ and p. . _et seq._ b. v. [ ] this whole proposal was neglected, though the french thought a considerable settlement very practicable, in order to get at the ohio. see governor pownall, vol. ii. p. . dr. franklin also failed in another proposal for settling to the south of the ohio. b. v. _report of the committee of aggrievances of the assembly of pensylvania, dated feb. , [ ]._ in obedience to the order of the house, we have drawn up the heads of the most important aggrievances that occur to us, which the people of this province with great difficulty labour under; the many infractions of the constitution (in manifest violation of the royal grant, the proprietary charter, the laws of this province, and of the laws, usages, and customs of our mother-country) and other matters; which we apprehend call aloud for redress. they are as follow: _first_, by the royal charter (which has ever been, ought to be, and truly is, the principal and invariable fundamental of this constitution) king charles the second did give and grant unto william penn, his heirs and assigns, the province of pensylvania; and also to him and his heirs, and his or their _deputies_ or lieutenants, free, full, and absolute power, for the good and happy government thereof, to make and enact any laws, "according to their best discretion; by and with the advice, assent, and approbation of the _freemen_ of the said country, or of their delegates or deputies;" for the raising of money, or any other end appertaining to the public state, peace, or safety of the said country. by the words of this grant, it is evident, that full powers are granted to the _deputies_ and lieutenants of william penn and his heirs, to concur with the people in framing laws for their protection and the safety of the province, according to their best discretion; independent of any instructions or directions they should receive from their _principals_. and it is equally obvious to your committee, that the _people_ of this province and their representatives were interested in this royal grant; and by virtue thereof have an original right of legislation inherent in them; which neither the proprietors nor any other person whatsoever can divest them of, restrain, or abridge, without manifestly violating and destroying the letter, spirit, and design of this grant. nevertheless we unfortunately find, that the proprietaries of this province, regardless of this sacred fundamental of our rights and liberties, have so abridged and restricted their late and present _governor's_ discretion in matters of legislation, by their illegal, impracticable, and unconstitutional instructions and prohibitions; that no bill for granting aids and supplies to our most gracious sovereign (be it ever so reasonable, expedient, and necessary for the defence of this his majesty's colony, and safety of his people) unless it be agreeable thereto, can meet with his approbation: by means whereof the many considerable sums of money which have been offered for those purposes, by the assemblies of this province (ever anxious to maintain his honour and rights,) have been rejected; to the great encouragement of his majesty's enemies, and the imminent danger of the loss of this colony. _secondly_, the representatives of the people in general assembly met, by virtue of the said royal grant, and the charter of privileges granted by the said william penn, and a law of this province, have right to, and ought to enjoy all the powers and privileges of an assembly, according to the rights of the free-born subjects of england, and as is usual in any of the plantations in america: [also] it is an indubitable and now an incontested right of the commons of england, to _grant aids_ and supplies to his majesty in any manner they think most easy to themselves and the people; and they [also] are the sole judges of the _measure_, _manner and time_ of granting and raising the same. nevertheless the proprietaries of this province, in contempt of the said royal grant, proprietary charter, and law of their colony, designing to subvert the fundamentals of this constitution, to deprive the assembly and people of their rights and privileges, and to assume an arbitrary and tyrannical power over the liberties and properties of his majesty's liege subjects, have so restrained their governors by the _despotic instructions_ (which are not to be varied from, and are particularly directory in the framing and passing of money-bills and supplies to his majesty, as to the mode, measure, and time) that it is impossible for the assembly, should they lose all sense of their most essential rights, and comply with those instructions, to grant sufficient aids for the defence of this his majesty's province from the common enemy. _thirdly_, in pursuance of sundry acts of general assembly, approved of by the crown, [and] a natural right inherent in every man antecedent to all laws, the assemblies of this province have had the power of _disposing_ of the _public_ monies, that have been raised for the encouragement of trade and support of government, by the interest money arising by the loan of the bills of credit and the excise. no part of these monies was ever paid by the _proprietaries_, or ever raised on their estates; and therefore they can have no pretence of right to a voice in the disposition of them. they have ever been applied with prudent frugality to the honour and advantage of the public, and the king's immediate service, to the general approbation of the people: the credit of the government has been preserved, and the debts of the public punctually discharged. in short, no inconveniencies, but great and many advantages have accrued, from the assembly's prudent care and management of these funds. yet the proprietaries resolved to deprive the assemblies of the power and means of _supporting an agent_ in england, and of prosecuting their complaints and remonstrating their aggrievances, when injured and oppressed, to his majesty and his parliament: and to rob them of this natural right (which has been so often approved of by their gracious sovereign) have, by their said instructions, prohibited their governor from giving his assent to any laws emitting or re-emitting any paper-currency or bills of credit, or for raising money by excise or any other method; unless the governor or commander in chief for the time being, by clauses to be inserted therein, has _a negative in the disposition_ of the monies arising thereby; let the languishing circumstances of our trade be ever so great, and a further or greater medium be ever so necessary for its support. _fourthly_, by the laws and statutes of england, the chief rents, honours, and castles of the crown are taxed, and _pay their proportion_ to the supplies that are granted to the king for the defence of the realm and support of government: his majesty, the nobility of the realm, and all the british subjects, do now actually contribute their proportion towards the defence of america in general, and this province in particular: and it is in a more especial manner the duty of the _proprietaries_ to pay their proportion of a tax, for the immediate preservation of their own estates, in this province. to exempt therefore any part of their estates from their reasonable part of this necessary burthen, it is unjust as it is illegal, and as new as it is arbitrary. yet the proprietaries, notwithstanding the general danger to which the nation and its colonies are exposed, and great distress of this province in particular, by their said instructions, have prohibited their governors from passing laws for the raising supplies for its defence; _unless_ all their located, unimproved, and unoccupied lands, quit-rents, fines, and purchase monies on interest (the much greater part of their enormous estates in this colony) are expressly exempted from paying any part of the tax. _fifthly_, by virtue of the said royal charter, the proprietaries are invested with a power of doing every thing "which unto a compleat establishment of justice, unto courts and tribunals, forms of judicature, and manner of proceedings, do belong." it was certainly the import and design of this grant, that the courts of judicature should be formed, and the _judges_ and officers thereof hold their commissions, in a manner not repugnant, but agreeable to the laws and customs of england: that thereby they might remain free from the influence of persons in power, the rights of the people might be preserved, and their properties effectually secured. that the guarantee, william penn (understanding the said grant in this light) did, by his original frame of government, covenant and grant with the people, that the judges and other officers should hold their commissions during their _good behaviour, and no longer_. notwithstanding which, the governors of this province have, for many years past, granted all the commissions to the judges of the king's bench or supreme court of this province, and to the judges of the court of common pleas of the several counties, to be held during their _will and pleasure_; by means whereof, the said judges being subject to the influence and directions of the proprietaries and their governors, their favourites and creatures, the laws may not be duly administered or executed, but often wrested from their true sense; to serve particular purposes, the foundation of justice may be liable to be destroyed; and the lives, laws, liberties, privileges, and properties of the people thereby rendered precarious and altogether insecure; to the great disgrace of our laws, and the inconceivable injury of his majesty's subjects. your committee further beg leave to add, that besides these aggrievances, there are other hardships the people of this province have experienced, that call for redress.--the _inlistment of servants, without the least satisfaction_ being made to the masters, has not only prevented the cultivation of our lands, and diminished the trade and commerce of the province, but is a burthen extremely unequal and oppressive to individuals. and should the practice continue, the consequence must prove very discouraging to the further settlement of this colony, and prejudicial to his majesty's future service.--justice, therefore, demands, that satisfaction should be made to the masters of such inlisted servants; and that the right of masters to their servants be confirmed and settled.--but as those servants have been inlisted into his majesty's service for the general defence of america, and not of this province only, but all the colonies, and the nation in general, have and will receive equal benefit from their service; this satisfaction should be made at the expence of the nation, and not of the province only. that the people now labour under _a burthen of taxes_, almost insupportable by so young a colony, for the defence of its long-extended frontier, of about two hundred miles from new jersey to maryland; without either of those colonies, or the three lower counties on delaware, contributing their proportion thereto; though their frontiers are in a great measure covered and protected by our forts. and should the war continue, and with it this unequal burthen, many of his majesty's subjects in this province will be reduced to want, and the province, if not lost to the enemy, involved in debt, and sunk under its load. that notwithstanding this weight of taxes, the assemblies of this province _have given to the general service_ of the nation, five thousand pounds to purchase provisions for the troops under general braddock; , _l._ _s._ _d._ for clearing a road by his orders; , _l._ _s._ _d._ to general shirley, for the purchasing provisions for the new england forces; and expended the sum of , _l._ _s._ ½_d._ in supporting the inhabitants of nova scotia; which likewise we conceive ought to be a national expence. and that his majesty's subjects, the merchants and insurers in england, as well as the merchants here and elsewhere, did during the last, and will during the present war, greatly suffer in their property, trade, and commerce, by the _enemy's privateers_ on this coast, and at our capes, unless some method be fallen on to prevent it. wherefore your committee are of opinion, that the commissioners intended to be sent to england[ ], to solicit a memorial and redress of the many infractions and violations of the constitution; should also have it in charge, and be instructed to represent to our most gracious sovereign and his parliaments, the several unequal burthens and hardships before-mentioned;--and endeavour to procure satisfaction to the masters of such servants as have been inlisted, and the right of masters to their servants established and confirmed;--and obtain a repayment of the said several sums of money, some assistance towards defending our extensive frontier, and a vessel of war to protect the trade and commerce of this province. submitted to the correction of the house. _feb. , ._ footnotes: [ ] the english colony-governments seem to have been considered as of three sorts. first, _provincial_ governments; where the constitution originally depends on the king's commission, and instructions given to his governors; and the assemblies, held under that authority, have their share in making local ordinances not repugnant to english law. next, _proprietary_ governments; where a district of country is given by the crown to individuals, attended with certain legislative powers in the nature of a fief; with a provision for the sovereignty at home, and also for the fulfilment of the terms and end of the grant. lastly, _charter_ governments, where the fundamentals of the government are previously prescribed and made known to the settlers, being in no degree left subject to a governor's commission or proprietor's will. (see blackstone, vol. i. introd. § .)--good faith however to mankind seemed to require, that the constitutions, once begun under the provincial or proprietary governments, should remain unaltered (except for improvement) to the respective settlers, equally as in charter-governments. b. v. [ ] dr. franklin was afterwards appointed to present this address, as agent for the province of pensylvania, and departed from america for the purpose in june . see his life, vol. i. p. . while in england, the more effectually to accomplish the business upon which he was sent, he wrote the article that follows in the next page, entitled an historical review, &c. _editor._ _an historical review of the constitution and government of pensylvania, from its origin; so far as regards the several points of controversy which have, from time to time, arisen between the several governors of that province, and their several assemblies. founded on authentic documents._ those who would give up _essential liberty_, to purchase a little _temporary safety_, deserve neither _liberty_ nor _safety_. griffiths, [ ]. dedication. to the right honourable arthur onslow, speaker of the honourable house of commons. sir, the subject of the following sheets is an unhappy one: the controversy between the proprietaries and successive assemblies of pensylvania: a controversy which has often embarrassed, if not endangered the public service: a controversy which has been long depending, and which still seems to be as far from an issue as ever. our blessed saviour reproaches the pharisees with laying heavy burdens on men's shoulders, which they themselves would not stir with a single finger. our proprietaries, sir, have done the same; and, for the sake of the commonwealth, the province has hitherto submitted to the imposition: not indeed, without the most strenuous endeavours to lay the load equally, the fullest manifestations, and the strongest protestations against the violence put upon them. having been most injuriously misrepresented and traduced in print, by the known agents and dependents of those gentlemen their fellow subjects, they at last find themselves obliged to set forth an historical state of their case, and to make their appeal to the public upon it. with the public opinion in their favour, they may with the more confidence lift up their eyes to the wisdom of parliament and the majesty of the crown, from whence alone they can derive an effectual remedy. to your hands, sir, these papers are most humbly presented, for considerations so obvious, that they scarce need any explanation. the roman provinces did not stand more in need of patronage than ours: and such clients as we are would have preferred the integrity of cato to the fortune of cæsar. the cause we bring is in fact the cause of all the provinces in one: it is the cause of every british subject in every part of the british dominions: it is the cause of every man who deserves to be free every where. the propriety, therefore, of addressing these papers to a gentleman, who, for so many successive parliaments, with so much honour to himself and satisfaction to the public, has been at the head of the commons of great britain, cannot be called in question. you will smile, sir, perhaps, as you read the references of a provincial assembly to the rights and claims of parliament; but we humbly conceive, it will be without the least mixture of resentment; those assemblies having nothing more in view, than barely to establish their privileges on the most rational and solid basis they could find, for the security and service of their constituents. and you are humbly besought, sir, not to think the worse of this address, because it has been made without your permission or privity. nobody asks leave to pay a debt: every briton is your debtor, sir: and all we have said, or can say, is but a poor composition for what we owe you. you have conferred as much honour on the chair you fill, as the chair has conferred on you. probity and dignity are your characteristics. may that seat always derive the same lustre from the same qualities! this at least ought to be our prayer, whether it is or not within our expectations. for the province of pensylvania, as well as in my own private capacity, i have the honour to be, with the most profound respect, sir, your most obedient humble servant, the editor. introduction. to obtain an infinite variety of purposes by a few plain principles is the characteristic of nature. as the eye is affected so is the understanding: objects at distance strike it according to their dimensions, or the quantity of light thrown upon them; near, according to their novelty or familiarity as they are in motion or at rest. it is the same with actions. a battle is all motion; a hero all glare: while such images are before us, we can attend to nothing else. solon and lycurgus would make no figure in the same scene with the king of prussia; and we are at present so lost in a military scramble on the continent next us, in which it must be confessed we are deeply interested, that we have scarce time to throw a glance towards america, where we have also much at stake, and where, if any where, our account must be made up at last. we love to stare more than to reflect, and to be indolently amused at our leisure, than to commit the smallest trespass on our patience by winding a painful tedious maze, which would pay us in nothing but knowledge. but then as there are some eyes that can find nothing marvellous but what is marvellously great, so there are others equally disposed to marvel at what is marvellously little; and who can derive as much entertainment from this microscope in examining a mite, as dr. ---- in ascertaining the geography of the moon, or measuring the tail of a comet. let this serve as an excuse for the author of these sheets, if he needs any, for bestowing them on the transactions of a colony, till of late hardly mentioned in our annals; in point of establishment one of the last upon the british list, and in point of rank one of the most subordinate, as being not only subject, in common with the rest, to the crown, but also to the claims of a _proprietary_, who thinks he does them _honour_ enough in governing them by _deputy_; consequently so much further removed from the royal eye, and so much the more exposed to the pressure of self-interested _instructions_. considerable, however, as most of them, for happiness of situation, fertility of soil, product of valuable commodities, number of inhabitants, shipping, amount of exportations, latitude of rights and privileges, and every other requisite for the being and well-being of society, and more considerable than any of them all for the celerity of its growth, unassisted by any human help but the vigour and virtue of its own excellent constitution. a father and his family, the latter united by interest and affection, the former to be revered for the wisdom of his institutions and the indulgent use of his authority, was the form it was at first presented in. those who were only ambitious of repose found it here; and as none returned with an evil report of the land, numbers followed: all partook of the leaven they found: the community still wore the same equal face: nobody aspired: nobody was oppressed: industry was sure of profit, knowledge of esteem, and virtue of veneration. an assuming _landlord_, strongly disposed to convert free tenants into abject vassals, and to reap what he did not sow, countenanced and abetted by a few desperate and designing dependents, on the one side; and on the other, all who have sense enough to know their rights, and spirit enough to defend them, combined as one man against the said landlord and his encroachment in the form it has since assumed. and surely a nation born to liberty like this, bound to leave it unimpaired as they received it from their fathers in perpetuity to their heirs, and interested in the conservation of it in every appendix to the british empire, the particulars of such a contest cannot be wholly indifferent. on the contrary, it is reasonable to think, the first workings of power against liberty, and the natural efforts of unbiassed men to secure themselves against the first approaches of oppression, must have a captivating power over every man of sensibility and discernment amongst us. liberty it seems thrives best in the woods. america best cultivates what germany brought forth. and were it not for certain ugly comparisons, hard to be suppressed, the pleasure arising from such a research would be without alloy. in the feuds of florence recorded by machiavel, we find more to lament and less to praise. scarce can we believe the first citizens of the ancient republics had such pretensions to consideration, though so highly celebrated in ancient story. as to ourselves, we need no longer have recourse to the late glorious stand of the french parliament to excite our emulation. it is a known custom among farmers, to change their corn from season to season, for the sake of filling the bushel: and in case the wisdom of the age should condescend to make the like experiment in another shape, from hence we may learn, whither to repair for the proper species. it is not however to be presumed, that such as have long been accustomed to consider the colonies in general as only so many dependencies on the council board, the board of trade, and the board of customs; or, as a hot-bed for causes, jobs and other pecuniary emoluments, and as formed as effectually by _instructions_ as by _laws_, can be prevailed on to consider those patriot rustics with any degree of respect. but how contemptibly soever these gentlemen may talk of the colonies, how cheap soever they may hold their assemblies, or how insignificant the planters and traders who compose them, truth will be truth, and principle, principle, notwithstanding. courage, wisdom, integrity, and honour are not to be measured by the place assigned them to act in, but by the trials they undergo and the vouchers they furnish: and if so manifested, need neither robes or titles to set them off. contents. list of governors of pensylvania, and dates of the several charters, &c. of that province. abstract of the charter granted to william penn. certain conditions or concessions of mr. penn to the first adventurers in, and settlers of, pensylvania. mr. penn's first frame of government. his reservation of quit rents. his second frame of government. the province of pensylvania and the territory of the three lower counties united by his management. remonstrance of a subsequent assembly against the said union. motives of the planters, assigned by the said assembly, for accepting the second frame of government. mr. penn's return to england, and appointment of commissioners to administer the government. disorders which ensued during his absence. captain blackwell's government. the government assumed into the lands of the crown in , and administered by colonel fletcher, governor of new york. he declares the constitution of mr. penn's government, and that of their majesties, to be directly opposite to each other. he menaces the assembly with an annexion of their province to that of new york. protestation against passing of bills, amended by the governor and council, without the previous assent of the assembly to those amendments, and of money-bills before grievances have been redressed. remonstrance to mr. penn concerning this period. the governor admits the principles of the quakers, not to carry arms, or levy money to make war; and solicits a supply to feed the hungry and clothe the naked (indians). the assembly insist on their right to appropriate as well as to raise money. the government of william markham, esq. a new act of settlement or frame of government. the government resumed by mr. penn. the province purged from the odium of favouring pirates, and carrying on an illicit trade. a new model of elections agreed to. the assembly formed thereon dissolved. another assembly called upon another model, to meet at newcastle instead of philadelphia. aids granted for the proprietary-governor, in exchange for a conformation of property. an aid of _l._ sterling to the crown on this account. mr. penn's plausible speech to a new assembly. three of the requisitions they made to him, with his answers and their replies. a breach between the province and the territory. the last charter of privileges, which, under the royal charter, is _now_ the rule of government. it is unanimously rejected by the freemen of the territory. mr. penn's departure for england. andrew hamilton, esq. deputy-governor, in vain endeavours to unite the territory with the province. john evans, esq. succeeds hamilton, and makes the like endeavour, also in vain. controversy between him and the assembly concerning the bill to confirm the charter. nine several heads of complaint entered in the minutes of the assembly, as the ground of a representation to the proprietary; being the representation several times before cited. the remainder of that representation. a copy of it demanded by the governor and refused by the assembly. the latter make a merit of having forborne to make their representation public. the governor obtains an assembly to his wish, by undue practices. animosities between lloyd, speaker of the assembly, and logan, secretary to the governor and council. the governor censures the proprietary's charter of property. the draughtman's defence of it. the governor declares the proprietary's high resentment of the assembly's representation. the assembly's reply. the governor refers to the charter of privileges as the only rule of government. the assembly complains of infractions made in it. their representation to the proprietary against the governor. logan impeached by the assembly. an unanimous vote of thanks to the proprietary for recalling evans. general view of gookin's government. assembly's character of themselves. a proprietary-governor a wretched thing. artful conduct of governor keith. mr. penn's death. the province left in the hands of trustees. logan, one of those trustees, obtains a majority in the council against the governor. logan makes a voyage to england, and returns with private instructions to keith, which keith communicates to the assembly. the governor and assembly in concert pay no regard to the said instructions. a controversy in print, between the governor and logan thereon. a breach between the governor and speaker. the province in a state of tranquillity for nine years under his administration. a pathetic reflection on the melancholy case of governors recalled. pensylvania easy to be governed, if well governed. private instructions from the proprietary in two several instances declared void. the proprietary of pensylvania too inconsiderable here at home to be a patron to the province, and too unsizeably great there. the proprietaries the sole purchasers of indian lands:--the people at the sole expence of indian affairs:--treaties and purchases concomitant. the quit-rents of pensylvania, paid to the proprietary, first demanded and granted to defray the charge of government. notwithstanding which the people now pay taxes for that purpose, and the proprietaries insist on holding their estates tax-free. paper-money first issued in pensylvania. precautions taken to secure it from depreciation. mr. penn's trustees averse to the said issue, till a provision was made, at the expence of the province, to render his heirs gainers by it. room left in the constitution of the province for self defence by force of arms, though the use of arms was not consistent with the principles of quakers. in consequence of complaints to parliament, of the mischiefs arising from excessive issues of paper-money by the eastern governments (that is to say those of new england) a general instruction was sent to _all_ the governors of north america, not to give their assent to any farther bills of that nature, without a suspending clause, till his majesty's pleasure should be known. the assembly grants money in aid of the expedition against carthagena. the governor inlists indented servants upon that occasion; and the assembly apply the money they had given to indemnify the masters. they give , _l._ towards the public service, to be applied as his majesty should direct. also another sum of , _l._ to furnish necessaries to the troops in louisburgh. and yet another sum of , _l._ towards the intended expedition against canada in the year , by an addition of the like sum to their paper currency, and notwithstanding the above instruction, the governor gave his assent to the bill for that purpose. the proprietaries of pensylvania oppose the bill brought into parliament for restraining the northern colonies from issuing paper bills of credit, and make a merit of it in the province. the assembly call upon the proprietaries to contribute to the expence of indian affairs, which they decline. the assembly's representation thereon. a bill for increasing the provincial paper-currency in proportion to the increase of the province, by an addition of , _l._ thereto. rejected by the governor for being unseasonably timed. and petitioned by the inhabitants. a message from the governor (hamilton) preparing the house to expect incursions from the french among the indians in alliance with them, and requiring assistance on their behalf. the answer of the proprietaries to the representation of the assembly concerning the expence of indian affairs. the assembly's message sent to the governor, together with the currency-bill he had before rejected. another message to him concerning indian affairs, and notifying a present of condolence to the twigtwee tribe. governor's message, importing his assent to the currency-bill, with a suspending clause. resolution of the assembly not to accept this clause, with their reasons. a note of regret, that some temperament had not been found out at home, to prevent the controversy, which was now on the point of breaking out. remonstrance of the assembly against the said clause. the governor's message of adherence thereto. the assembly's reply. their reply to the proprietary's answer to the representation on indian expences. unanimous resolution of the assembly concerning the necessity of a remission of their paper-currency. lord holdernesse's letter and other papers laid before them, together with a written message from the governor thereon. the assembly's answer, accompanied with their currency-bill. the governor rejects it; but offers to pass a bill for striking a farther sum on a proper fund for sinking the same in a few years. the assembly prudently avail themselves of the cautions in lord holdernesse's letter concerning _undoubted limits_, to decline taking any part in the broil, till the government of virginia, as first concerned, should set the first example. the governor revives the old controversy concerning the paper-money instruction. declares in another paper he had _undoubted assurance_, that part of his majesty's dominions _within_ his government was at that time invaded, and demands supplies to arm the province, &c. the assembly demur, and desire a short adjournment. the governor not only persists in his former declaration, but maintains, that the case was the same, whether the invasion of the enemy was made in virginia or pensylvania. the assembly adjourn to may , and are assembled by the governor april , in order to lay before them papers from governor dinwiddie; and demand a supply. debates in the assembly on the _quantum_, and a new adjournment. another session, and a message from the governor, accompanied with intelligence, that the french were before the fort built by the virginians on the ohio; with dispatches and a proposition from the governors of boston and new york, for an union of the colonies, &c. a joint bill for granting an aid of , _l._ to the king, and , _l._ for replacing torn and ragged bills, offered. amendments proposed by the governor. unanimously rejected by the assembly, and for what reasons. the governor's reply. a reflection thereon. resolutions of the assembly. and message to the governor before their adjournment. they are re-convened by special summons on the occasion of washington's defeat, and required to form chearful and vigorous resolutions for dislodging the enemy, in concurrence with virginia. the proceedings of the commissioners at albany laid before them. they prepare and present a bill for striking , _l._ in bills of credit, and the rest for replacing defective bills. which the governor evades for want of sufficient powers to pass it. governor morris's arrival at philadelphia, and first speech to a new assembly. the assembly's answer and adjournment. being assembled again, a letter from sir thomas robinson, secretary of state, is laid before them; and the governor in his speech requires them to raise and keep up a considerable body of troops. they present a bill for raising , _l._ on the former plan; half of this sum for the public service; with a message, expressing their concern at a paragraph in the secretary of state's letter, by which it appeared their conduct had not been fairly represented at home. the old instruction, and an opinion of the attorney-general's, pleaded by the governor in bar of his assent, unless the money was raised in a five-years fund. a letter from sir thomas robinson to the governor of pensylvania, dispatched at the same time with others of similar tendency to the other governors of the northern colonies. which the governor, in his comment upon it, endeavours to narrow the application of, to pensylvania only. a message from the assembly, fully demonstrating, that pensylvania was not comprehended in the instruction insisted upon; and that in case it was, the present emergency was one of those, which, according to the very letter of that instruction, might be provided for notwithstanding: also desiring a sight of the instructions he himself had received from his principals. a second message, in which they call upon the governor to give his assent to the bill, as what would answer all the purposes recommended to them in sir thomas robinson's letter. the governor's reply, declining the bill as before; because the supply might be otherwise raised, and evading the communication of his instructions. the assembly's rejoinder, justifying the requisition they made of his instructions; and intimating, that an appeal to the crown was the only method left them of being continued in the use and benefit of their birthright, and charter liberties. the governor questions their right to have these instructions laid before them, and endeavours to put them beside their point, by magnifying the preparations of the french, &c. the assembly order the papers which had passed between the proprietaries and them to be printed, which till then they had avoided. their unanimous resolutions concerning the proprietary instructions, in which they declare it as their opinion, that the said instructions were the principal if not the sole obstruction to their bill: also the most essential points contained in their reply to the governor's charges against them. a brief of the governor's sur-rejoinder. some general remarks. the assembly make their appeal to the crown, inform the governor thereof, signify their inclination to adjourn till may, and give his instructions the _coup de grace_. the governor's expostulatory message thereon. he demands a copy of their minutes; they order him one when the printed copies were _finished_, and adjourn. upon braddock's arrival in virginia, they are re-assembled by special summons: the demands made by message on that occasion. the governor reprimands them for having published sir thomas robinson's letter in their minutes, and for not delivering him a copy of those minutes so soon as he had required them. the assembly's answer thereto. orders and counter-orders to the printer of these minutes. two messages from the governor; one communicating a design of general shirley to build a fort _within the limits_ of his majesty's territories near _crown point_, to which the assembly is required to contribute; and the other, notifying first the arrival of braddock's forces, and then the expectations entertained at home, that the colonies would raise an additional number of forces, furnish provisions, &c. all terminated with a kind of menace of the resentment of his majesty and the parliament, in case of a disappointment. _twenty five thousand pounds_ granted to the king's use, to be raised by an emission of paper-bills to the same amount, and to be sunk by an extension of the excise for ten years. refused by the governor, on the old pretence of a contrary instruction. a provision demanded for the expence of an indian treaty. a memorial to the assembly from mr. quincy, a commissioner from the government of massachusett's bay, expressing both his concern, that the governor could not be induced to pass the said money-bill, and his acknowledgments of the _chearfulness_ shown by them in granting , _l._ for victualling the forces to be employed in new england; being part of the money so granted; and urging them to find out some other means of rendering their purpose effectual. the assembly resolve to raise the said sum on the credit of the province. another paper of acknowledgment from the said mr. quincy. the governor refuses to return the said bill to the assembly; informs them the french had fitted out fifteen sail of the line, with six thousand land forces, and calls upon them to put the province into a state of defence, as the enemy could not be ignorant how plentiful and defenceless it was; yet advises a short adjournment. they meet again, and a squabble arising between them about a bill merely provincial, he revives the former controversy. the assembly's spirited answer to this captious message. a remark thereon. they are re-assembled. a hardy assertion, concerning the paper-money act passed by governor thomas, refuted by a fact. an acknowledgment from the officers of the regular forces of certain presents made to them by the assembly. the governor's message to the assembly, said to be founded on a representation of general braddock's, requiring them to enable him to furnish the said general with provisions under proper convoys, &c. &c. the assembly desire to have the general's letter laid before them, which the governor declines, and thereby occasions a new controversy. the assembly send up two other bills; one of , _l._ for exchanging old bills, and one of , _l._ for the king's use, on the model of that formerly passed by governor thomas, and confirmed at home by the royal authority, since the instruction so often cited had been sent to the said governor. such amendments offered to it by the governor, as he could not but be pre-convinced would not be allowed. the assembly adjourn till september; but are again convoked in july, on occasion of braddock's defeat. the governor's speech. the assembly vote an aid of , _l._ by a tax on all real and personal estates. the governor makes a pompous offer in the proprietary's name, of certain lands west of allegheny mountains, to such adventurers as would fight for them, and calls upon the assembly to afford some assistance to such as should accept the same. a remonstrance which certain inhabitants of certain places were induced to present to the assembly. the address of the assembly to the governor. their , _l._ money-bill returned, with an amendment, by which the whole _proprietary estate_ was to be _exempted_ from tax. the message of the assembly to the governor on that occasion, desiring his reasons for that exemption. the governor's reply, containing four curious reasons. the assembly's rejoinder, refuting those reasons. other papers which passed between them at the same crisis. the residue of braddock's troops being recalled from the frontiers, notwithstanding an application of the assembly to the governor requesting their continuance, he calls upon the house to provide for the security of the back-inhabitants. a remark thereon. the governor alarms and embarrasses them with petitions from certain persons requiring to be armed; _intelligence_ of indians actually set out, to fall upon their frontiers; recommendations to provide by law against exporting provisions to the enemy, as a requisite to facilitate the reduction of louisburgh; and _demands_ of all manner of _things_ for the assistance of colonel dunbar, who, by orders from general shirley, was again to proceed towards fort duquesne. a proposal from certain gentlemen of philadelphia to subscribe _l._ in lieu of the proprietary proportion of the tax in question, and upon a presumption that the proprietaries would honourably reimburse them. the assembly send up their bill to the governor again, together with the said proposal, as containing by implication an acknowledgment that the tax was founded in equity, and also a farther security to the governor, in case he should give his assent to the bill. their message to the governor, correcting his manner of stating the louisburgh point, and observing, that all required of them from new england was to prolong the excellent laws they had already made. some seasonable remarks. the governor's verbal answer to the assembly's message concerning the money-bill, adhering to his amendment. he contends for a militia. the assembly order , _l._ if so much remain in their treasury, to arm the back-inhabitants. they signify their purpose to adjourn, and refer the affair of a militia-bill to a new assembly. their proceedings at the next meeting: the governor demands an additional supply of provision to be sent to albany, at the requisition of governor phipps, for the use of the forces of massachusett's bay: and another supply for the provisional troops of connecticut and rhode island, which he was _informed_ were raised in addition to those already employed in the reduction of crown-point. the assembly apply for a sight of phipps's letter, which is refused. the old controversy renewed. a new one concerning the roads opened at the expence of the province for the convenience of the king's forces, which is carried on with much acrimony on both sides. as a last effort for the public service the assembly authorize by vote a loan, or voluntary subscription, of , _l._ to be raised in a fortnight, and refer the lenders to the next assembly for payment. an apology for the length of this treatise; and a brief state of the province at this period. the new assembly, after a session of four days, suffered to adjourn themselves without proceeding to business, for want of having the intelligence then in the governor's hands in due form imparted to them. being re-convoked, the governor informs them, that a party of french and indians had passed the mountains, and were encamped within eight miles of the capital, and, after a liberal intermixture of upbraidings and self-sufficiencies, demands a supply; premising, that it might be raised by an emission of any sum in paper, provided funds were found for sinking it in five years, &c. a reference to the only act of parliament extant, and that an ineffectual one, to prevent the oppressions practised by provincial governors. politics of various kinds, and from various quarters, presented to the assembly. the assembly reduce and rectify the matter of alarm communicated by the governor; and advise such measures as might reclaim the indians, &c. a new message concerning the depredations of the indians. _sixty thousand pounds_ granted, to be struck in bills of credit, which were to be sunk by a tax of _six-pence_ in the pound; and a poll-tax of _ten shillings_ a head, yearly, for four years; which the governor refuses, and talks of _setting off_ for the back counties. a new message, reporting, that the susquehanna indians had offered their service to the province, provided it was accepted without delay. two messages from the assembly to the governor; the first concerning peace with the indians, and the money bill; the other an answer to his concerning the susquehanna indians. they send up a bill for regulating the indian trade. the famous kentish petition to the house of commons, in , outdone by the mayor of philadelphia, and one hundred and thirty three other inconsiderates, in a demand on their assembly to constitute a militia forthwith. a petition of certain of the people called quakers, for peaceable measures. progress of the controversy concerning the bill, which the governor offers to pass with a suspending clause. resolutions of the assembly hereupon. message from the governor concerning another indian massacre, and demanding an immediate supply, &c. another from the assembly to him, justifying their bill both in matter and manner. they send him up a militia bill. the governor's invective against their whole conduct. he passes the militia bill, under the specific declaration that it was an improper one. he communicates to the assembly a discussion of indian affairs, as prepared by his council; calls upon them to provide for a swarm of french banished out of nova scotia; and signifies, that the proprietaries had sent an order upon their receiver-general, for _l._ as a free gift to the public. another remonstrance from the mayor of philadelphia and his posse. the assembly's reply to the governor's invective, which for the present they declined making use of. the answer they did make use of. parley between the speaker and twenty-nine petitioners, or rather prescribers to the assembly. unanimous resolutions concerning the right of granting supplies to the crown; and a new money bill, out of which the proprietary estate was excepted, in consideration of the late grant of _l._ the assembly's message to the governor, explaining the use and pressing the dispatch of the indian trade bill. the governor's evasive answer. his message desiring the advice of the house. the assembly's answer. their message relative to the complaint of the shawanese indians. their resolution concerning the indian trade bill; also concerning irregular and improper petitions. they adjourn; and two months after re-assemble by special summons. the governor's message on that occasion. the message of the assembly in regard to the inlisting purchased servants. general shirley's letter of acknowledgment for a voluntary present of clothing sent by the province to his troops. the assembly remind the governor of the indian trade bill. he returns it with amendments; as also their bill for extending the excise. they adhere to their bills and assign their reasons. the governor goes to newcastle and the assembly adjourn. sir william johnson's treaty with the six nations laid before them at their next meeting. the governor appearing strongly inclined to involve the province in a war with the delawares and shawanese, some of the people called quakers petition for specific measures. the governor on the other hand alarms the house with an account of a number of people coming in a body to make _demands_ upon them. their unanimity on that occasion. the governor takes advantage of this incident to declare war against the said two indian nations. he also demands farther supplies, and intimates, that certain indians, long subsisted by the province, were retiring in discontent, &c. the assembly's answer. the return made by the governor. the resolutions of the assembly concerning a plan of military operations communicated to them by the governor. they adjourn and are re-assembled. the governor's message to them from a place called _harris's ferry_. a petition of the association companies in philadelphia, concerning the insufficiency of the militia law. the reply of the assembly to the governor's message, accompanied with a bill for prohibiting provisions. another session, and two other messages from the governor, who was still posted at harris's ferry. a money bill ordered, but postponed on the receipt of intelligence from sir charles hardy and sir william johnson, that the delawares and shawanese were disposed to renew their alliance. the governor proclaims a suspension of arms. the assemblies' message to him, in which they again press him to pass the indian trade bill; he promises to reconsider it; and a second time calls upon them to make some (additional) provision for his support. six members desire leave upon the adjournment to quit their seats, and at the next session present a written paper to the house as a testimonial thereof. the resignation accepted and new writs issued. the governor's message notifying the appointment of lord loudoun to be commander in chief in america; as also the act of parliament for raising a regiment of foreigners; recommending particularly, that the masters of such indented servants as should engage in the service might be indemnified; and that, as by the expiration of an act passed in the lower counties, the pensylvanian act, lately passed, would expire also, they would prepare a proper bill for continuing the embargo, &c. the assembly's reply; in which they show, the governor had invalidated the acts of all the other colonies by the law he had passed in the lower counties. their message concerning the excise and indian trade bills; and his answer, that he would not recede from his amendments because of his proprietary instruction. the instruction itself. a remark; and the resolution of the house on the said instruction. an act for emitting _l._ in bills of credit, on behalf of the proprietaries, to supply so far the public occasions, till their receiver-general should be enabled by his receipts to make good their order. an act, for striking and issuing the sum of , _l._ for the king's use, sent up to the governor. his message concerning an attack to be apprehended from the indians about harvest time. the assembly's answer. a bill to permit the exportation of provisions for the king's service, notwithstanding the act of prohibition. the governor's evasive conduct in relation thereto. the assembly apprise him, july , of their intention to adjourn till august ; and are told that he has no objection. notwithstanding which, he re-assembles them a fortnight afterwards, in the midst of their harvest, under the pretence of continuing the prohibition act. petition of the merchants in relation to the embargo. the assembly's answer to the governor's message. another message to him concerning the preamble to the _l._ bill on behalf of the proprietaries. the governor's answer. he sends down another preamble, which is not relished; refuses to pass the excise bill, and expunges the clause in the , _l._ bill for taxing the proprietary estate. his message concerning indian affairs, and the expence of conducting them. the assembly's answer. the governor's reply. a parting compliment from general shirley to the province. a new session, and the governor's message thereon. the assembly's answer. governor morris is superseded by governor denny. the governor complimented on his arrival. the first speech a continuation of the old system. the business of the assembly at a stand for a few days. their address; and message, requesting copies of his proprietary instructions. certain of the said instructions communicated. a short comment upon them. a message to the governor. the governor's answer. a bill prepared for striking the sum of , _l._ for the king's use, to be sunk by an excise. a conference on the said bill. the assembly's answer to the governor's objections. the governor's answer, signifying, that he _would not_ give his assent to it. resolutions of the assembly after a _protest_ against the _instructions_, and a _salvo_ for their own _rights_, to prepare a new bill. a new bill prepared and passed. a brief apology for the conduct of the assembly on this occasion. a remonstrance voted. conclusion; with a testimonial of commodore sprag in behalf of the assembly. an appendix, containing sundry original papers relative to the several points in controversy between the governors and assemblies of pensylvania, viz. . the representation of the assembly to the proprietaries, requesting them to bear a proportionable part of indian expences. . the proprietaries' answer; and assembly's remarks thereon. . a message from governor morris, containing his additional arguments to show the _unreasonableness_ of taxing the proprietary estate for its defence, and in support of the restrictions he was under in that respect. . the assembly's answer thereto. . the governor's reply. . the assembly's rejoinder. [note. _in the above four messages great part of the points in dispute between the proprietaries and people of the province are fully litigated; and the perusal of them is necessary to those who would have a thorough knowledge of the controversy._] . the speaker of the pensylvanian assembly's paper of authorities relating to the rights of the commons over money-bills, and in support of the , _l._ bills passed by the assembly, so far as it relates to the taxing the proprietary estate within that province. . report of a committee of assembly on the proprietary _instructions_ relative to _money-bills_; clearly demonstrating, that though the proprietaries would at length appear to be willing to have their estates taxed in common with other estates, yet that were laws passed pursuant to these instructions, much the greatest part of their estate would be exempted, and that the sums necessary to be granted for his majesty's service in that province could not possibly be raised thereby, &c. &c. _a paper of importance._ . mr. thomas penn's estimate of the _value_ of the proprietary estate in pensylvania, upwards of twenty years ago; with remarks thereon, showing its prodigious increase since that time, the profits arising to the house of penn from their indian purchases, and the huckstering manner in which they dispose of lands to the king's subjects in that province. . a specimen of the anonymous abuses continually published against the inhabitants of pensylvania, by the proprietaries and their agents, with mr. w. franklin's refutation thereof. . some remarks on the conduct of the last and present governor, with regard to their employing the provincial forces as _regulars_, rather than as _rangers_; and showing the secret reason why that province is at present without a _militia-law_, notwithstanding the several bills which have been lately passed by the assembly for that purpose. . an account of sundry sums of money paid by the province for his majesty's service, _since the commencement of the present troubles in america_. . an extract from an original letter of mr. logan, containing, among other things, his opinion of the proprietary right to the government of the three delaware counties; and which serves to account for the particular favour shown that government from time to time. footnote: [ ] this is the title of an octavo volume, consisting of nearly five hundred pages closely printed. it was written, as mentioned in the preceding note, while dr. franklin was in england as agent for the province of pensylvania, to further the ends of his mission, by removing the unfavourable impressions which had taken place to the prejudice of the pensylvanians: and "it must be confessed," as a reviewer of the work observes, "they had in our author a most zealous and able advocate. his sentiments are manly, liberal, and spirited; his style close, nervous, and rhetorical. by a forcible display of the oppressions his clients have sustained, he inclines us to pity their condition; by an enumeration of their virtues he endeavours to remove the idea, which many have entertained, of their unimportance, and, abstracted from their consideration in a political light, they claim our regard by reason of their own personal merits." interesting however as the controversy between the governors and the assembly of pensylvania may have been at the time, it is too little so now to justify the insertion of so voluminous an account of it in the present collection, and we shall content ourselves therefore with extracting the dedication, preface, and contents. it is singular, that neither the editor of dr. franklin's works, whom we have designated by the letters b. v.; nor dr. stuber, the continuator of his life, should have mentioned this publication. the work is indeed anonymous, but it is so well known to have been dr. franklin's, that in the common library catalogue of the british museum it is ranked under his name. _editor._ _the interest of great britain considered, with regard to her colonies, and the acquisitions of canada and guadaloupe[ ]._ i have perused with no small pleasure the letter addressed to two great men, and the remarks on that letter. it is not merely from the beauty, the force and perspicuity of expression, or the general elegance of manner conspicuous in both pamphlets, that my pleasure chiefly arises; it is rather from this, that i have lived to see subjects of the greatest importance to this nation publicly discussed without party views, or party heat, with decency and politeness, and with no other warmth, than what a zeal for the honour and happiness of our king and country may inspire; and this by writers, whose understanding (however they may differ from each other) appears not unequal to their candour and the uprightness of their intention. but, as great abilities have not always the best information, there are, i apprehend, in the remarks, some opinions not well founded, and some mistakes of so important a nature, as to render a few observations on them necessary for the better information of the public. the author of the letter, who must be every way best able to support his own sentiments, will, i hope, excuse me, if i seem officiously to interfere; when he considers, that the spirit of patriotism, like other qualities good and bad, is catching; and that his long silence since the remarks appeared has made us despair of seeing the subject farther discussed by his masterly hand. the ingenious and candid remarker, too, who must have been misled himself before he employed his skill and address to mislead others, will certainly, since he declares he _aims at no seduction_[ ], be disposed to excuse even the weakest effort to prevent it. and surely, if the general opinions that possess the minds of the people may possibly be of consequence in public affairs, it must be fit to set those opinions right. if there is danger, as the remarker supposes, that "extravagant expectations" may embarrass "a virtuous and able ministry," and "render the negotiation for peace a work of infinite difficulty[ ];" there is no less danger that expectations too low, through want of proper information, may have a contrary effect, may make even a virtuous and able ministry less anxious, and less attentive to the obtaining points, in which the honour and interest of the nation are essentially concerned; and the people less hearty in supporting such a ministry and its measures. the people of this nation are indeed respectable, not for their numbers only, but for their understanding and their public spirit: they manifest the first, by their universal approbation of the late prudent and vigorous measures, and the confidence they so justly repose in a wise and good prince, and an honest and able administration; the latter they have demonstrated by the immense supplies granted in parliament unanimously, and paid through the whole kingdom with chearfulness. and since to this spirit and these supplies our "victories and successes[ ]" have in great measure been owing, is it quite right, is it generous to say, with the remarker, that the people "had no share in acquiring them?" the mere mob he cannot mean, even where he speaks of the madness of the people; for the madness of the mob must be too feeble and impotent, armed as the government of this country at present is, to "overrule[ ]," even in the slightest instances, the virtue "and moderation" of a firm and steady ministry. while the war continues, its final event is quite uncertain. the victorious of this year may be the vanquished of the next. it may therefore be too early to say, what advantages we ought absolutely to insist on, and make the _sine quibus non_ of a peace. if the necessity of our affairs should oblige us to accept of terms less advantageous than our present successes seem to promise us; an intelligent people, as ours is, must see that necessity, and will acquiesce. but as a peace, when it is made, may be made hastily; and as the unhappy continuance of the war affords us time to consider, among several advantages gained or to be gained, which of them may be most for our interest to retain, if some and not all may possibly be retained; i do not blame the public disquisition of these points, as premature or useless. light often arises from a collision of opinions, as fire from flint and steel; and if we can obtain the benefit of the _light_, without danger from the _heat_ sometimes produced by controversy, why should we discourage it? supposing then, that heaven may still continue to bless his majesty's arms, and that the event of this just war may put it in our power to retain some of our conquests at the making of a peace; let us consider, [ . _the security of a dominion, a justifiable and prudent ground upon which to demand cessions from an enemy._] _whether we are_ to confine ourselves to those possessions only _that were "the objects for which we began the war[ ]."_ this the remarker seems to think right, when the question relates to "_canada, properly so called_; it having never been mentioned as one of those objects, in any of our memorials or declarations, or in any national or public act whatsoever." but the gentleman himself will probably agree, that if the cession of canada would be a real advantage to us; we may demand it under his second head, as an "_indemnification_ for the charges incurred" in recovering our just rights; otherwise, according to his own principles, the demand of guadaloupe can have no foundation.--that "our claims before the war were large enough for possession and for security too[ ]," though it seems a clear point with the ingenious remarker, is, i own, not so with me. i am rather of the contrary opinion, and shall presently give my reasons. but first let me observe, that we did not make those claims because they were large enough for security, but because we could rightfully claim no more. advantages gained in the course of this war may increase the extent of our rights. our claims before the war contained _some_ security; but that is no reason why we should neglect acquiring _more_, when the demand of more is become reasonable. it may be reasonable in the case of america, to ask for the security recommended by the author of the letter[ ], though it would be preposterous to do it in many other cases. his proposed demand is founded on the little value of canada to the french; the right we have to ask, and the power we may have to insist on an indemnification for our expences; the difficulty the french themselves will be under of restraining their restless subjects in america from encroaching on our limits and disturbing our trade; and the difficulty on our parts of preventing encroachments, that may possibly exist many years without coming to our knowledge. but the remarker "does not see why the arguments, employed concerning a security for a peaceable behaviour in canada, would not be equally cogent for calling for the same security in europe[ ]." on a little farther reflection, he must i think be sensible, that the circumstances of the two cases are widely different.--_here_ we are separated by the best and clearest of boundaries, the ocean, and we have people in or near every part of our territory. any attempt to encroach upon us, by building a fort even in the obscurest corner of these islands, must therefore be known and prevented immediately. the aggressors also must be known, and the nation they belong to would be accountable for their aggression. in america it is quite otherwise. a vast wilderness, thinly or scarce at all peopled, conceals with ease the march of troops and workmen. important passes may be seized within our limits, and forts built in a month, at a small expence, that may cost us an age, and a million, to remove. dear experience has taught this. but what is still _worse_, the wide extended forests between our settlements and theirs, are inhabited by barbarous tribes of savages, that delight in war, and take pride in murder; subjects properly neither of the french nor english, but strongly attached to the former by the art and indefatigable industry of priests, similarity of superstitions, and frequent family alliances. these are easily, and have been continually, instigated to fall upon and massacre our planters, even in times of full peace between the two crowns; to the certain diminution of our people and the contraction of our settlements[ ]. and though it is known they are supplied by the french, and carry their prisoners to them, we can, by complaining, obtain no redress; as the governors of canada have a ready excuse, that the indians are an independent people, over whom they have no power, and for whose actions they are therefore not accountable. surely circumstances so widely different may reasonably authorise different demands of security in america, from such as are usual or necessary in europe. the remarker however thinks, that our real dependance for keeping "france or any other nation true to her engagements, must not be in demanding securities which no nation whilst _independent_ can give; but on our own strength and our own vigilance[ ]." no nation that has carried on a war with disadvantage, and is unable to continue it, can be said, under such circumstances, to be _independent_; and while either side thinks itself in a condition to demand an indemnification, there is no man in his senses, but will, cæteris paribus, prefer an indemnification, that is a cheaper and more effectual security than any other he can think of. nations in this situation demand and cede countries by almost every treaty of peace that is made. the french part of the island of st. christophers was added to great britain in circumstances altogether similar to those in which a few months may probably place the country of canada. farther security has always been deemed a motive with a conqueror to be less moderate; and even the _vanquished_ insist upon security as a reason for demanding what they acknowledge they could not otherwise properly ask. the security of the frontier of france _on the side of the netherlands_ was always considered in the negotiation, that began at gertrudenburgh, and ended with that war. for the same reason they demanded and had cape breton. but a war, concluded to the advantage of france, has always added something to the power, either of france, or the house of bourbon. even that of , which she commenced with declarations of her having no ambitious views, and which finished by a treaty, at which the ministers of france repeatedly declared, that she desired nothing for herself, in effect gained for her lorrain, an indemnification ten times the value of all her north american possessions. in short, security and quiet of princes and states have ever been deemed sufficient reasons, when supported by power, for disposing of rights; and such disposition has never been looked on as want of moderation. it has always been the foundation of the most general treaties. the security of germany was the argument for yielding considerable possessions there to the swedes: and the security of europe divided the spanish monarchy by the partition-treaty, made between powers who had no other right to dispose of any part of it. there can be no cession that is not supposed at least, to increase the power of the party to whom it is made. it is enough that he has a right to ask it, and that he does it not merely to serve the purposes of a dangerous ambition. canada, in the hands of britain, will endanger the kingdom of france as little as any other cession; and from its situation and circumstances cannot be hurtful to any other state. rather, if peace be an advantage, this cession may be such to all europe. the present war teaches us, that disputes arising in america may be an occasion of embroiling nations; who have no concerns there. if the french remain in canada and louisiana, fix the boundaries as you will between us and them, we must border on each other for more than fifteen hundred miles. the people that inhabit the frontiers are generally the refuse of both nations, often of the worst morals and the least discretion; remote from the eye, the prudence, and the restraint of government. injuries are therefore frequently, in some part or other of so long a frontier, committed on both sides, resentment provoked, the colonies first engaged, and then the mother countries. and two great nations can scarce be at war in europe, but some other prince or state thinks it a convenient opportunity to revive some ancient claim, seize some advantage, obtain some territory, or enlarge some power at the expence of a neighbour. the flames of war, once kindled, often spread far and wide, and the mischief is infinite. happy it proved to both nations, that the dutch were prevailed on finally to cede the new netherlands (now the province of new york) to us at the peace of ; a peace that has ever since continued between us, but must have been frequently disturbed, if they had retained the possession of that country, bordering several hundred miles on our colonies of pensylvania westward, connecticut and the massachusetts eastward. nor is it to be wondered at, that people of different language, religion, and manners, should in those remote parts engage in frequent quarrels; when we find, that even the people of our _own colonies_ have frequently been so exasperated against _each other_, in their disputes about boundaries, as to proceed to open violence and bloodshed. [ . _erecting forts in the back settlements, almost in no instance a sufficient security against the indians and the french; but the possession of canada implies every security, and ought to be had, while in our power._] but the remarker thinks _we shall be_ sufficiently _secure in america, if we "raise english forts at such passes as may at once make us respectable to the french and to the indian nations[ ]."_ the security desirable in america may be considered as of three kinds. . a security of possession, that the french shall not drive us out of the country. . a security of our planters from the inroads of savages, and the murders committed by them. . a security that the british nation shall not be obliged, on every new war, to repeat the immense expence occasioned by this, to defend its possessions in america. forts, in the most important passes, may, i acknowledge, be of use to obtain the _first_ kind of security: but as those situations are far advanced beyond the inhabitants, the expence of maintaining and supplying the garrisons will be very great even in time of full peace, and immense on every interruption of it; as it is easy for skulking-parties of the enemy, in such long roads through the woods, to intercept and cut off our convoys, unless guarded continually by great bodies of men.--the _second_ kind of security will not be obtained by such forts, unless they were connected by a wall like that of china, from one end of our settlements to the other. if the indians, when at war, marched like the europeans, with great armies, heavy cannon, baggage, and carriages; the passes through which alone such armies could penetrate our country, or receive their supplies, being secured, all might be sufficiently secure; but the case is widely different. they go to war, as they call it, in small parties; from fifty men down to five. their hunting life has made them acquainted with the whole country, and scarce any part of it is impracticable to such a party. they can travel through the woods even by night, and know how to conceal their tracks. they pass easily between your forts undiscovered; and privately approach the settlements of your frontier inhabitants. they need no convoys of provisions to follow them; for whether they are shifting from place to place in the woods, or lying in wait for an opportunity to strike a blow, every thicket and every stream furnishes so small a number with sufficient subsistence. when they have surprised separately, and murdered and scalped a dozen families, they are gone with inconceivable expedition through unknown ways; and it is very rare that pursuers have any chance of coming up with them[ ]. in short, long experience has taught our planters, that they cannot rely upon forts as a security against indians: the inhabitants of hackney might as well rely upon the tower of london, to secure them against highwaymen and housebreakers.--as to the _third_ kind of security, that we shall not, in a few years, have all we have now done, to do over again in america, and be obliged to employ the same number of troops, and ships, at the same immense expence, to defend our possessions there, while we are in proportion weakened here: such forts i think, cannot prevent this. during a peace, it is not to be doubted the french, who are adroit at fortifying, will likewise erect forts in the most advantageous places of the country we leave them; which will make it more difficult than ever to be reduced in case of another war. we know by the experience of this war, how extremely difficult it is to march an army through the american woods, with its necessary cannon and stores, sufficient to reduce a very slight fort. the accounts at the treasury will tell you, what amazing sums we have necessarily spent in the expeditions against two very trifling forts, duquesne, and crown point. while the french retain their influence over the indians, they can easily keep our long extended frontier in continual alarm, by a very few of those people; and with a small number of regulars and militia, in such a country, we find they can keep an army of ours in full employ for several years. we therefore shall not need to be told by our colonies, that if we leave canada, however circumscribed, to the french, "we have done nothing[ ];" we shall soon be made sensible _ourselves_ of this truth, and to our cost. i would not be understood to deny, that even if we subdue and retain canada, some _few forts_ may be of use to secure the goods of the traders, and protect the commerce, in case of any sudden misunderstanding with any tribe of indians: but these forts will be best under the care of the colonies interested in the indian trade, and garrisoned by their provincial forces, and at their own expence. their own interest will then induce the american governments to take care of such forts in proportion to their importance, and see that the officers keep their corps full, and mind their duty. but any troops of ours placed there, and accountable here, would, in such remote and obscure places, and at so great a distance from the eye and inspection of superiors, soon become of little consequence, even though the french were left in possession of canada. if the four independent companies, maintained by the crown in new york more than forty years, at a great expence, consisted, for most part of the time, of faggots chiefly; if their officers enjoyed their places as sinecures, and were only, as a writer[ ] of that country styles them, a kind of military monks; if this was the state of troops posted in a populous country, where the imposition could not be so well concealed; what may we expect will be the case of those, that shall be posted two, three, or four hundred miles from the inhabitants, in such obscure and remote places as crown point, oswego, duquesne, or niagara? they would scarce be even faggots; they would dwindle to mere names upon paper, and appear no where but upon the muster-rolls. now _all the kinds_ of security we have mentioned are obtained by subduing and _retaining_ canada. our present possessions in america are secured; our planters will no longer be massacred by the indians, who, depending absolutely on us for what are now become the necessaries of life to them (guns, powder, hatchets, knives, and clothing) and having no other europeans near, that can either supply them, or instigate them against us; there is no doubt of their being always disposed, if we treat them with common justice, to live in perpetual peace with us. and with regard to france, she cannot, in case of another war, put us to the immense expence of defending that long extended frontier; we shall then, as it were, have our backs against a wall in america; the sea coast will be easily protected by our superior naval power: and here "our own watchfulness and our own strength" will be properly, and cannot but be successfully employed. in this situation, the force, now employed in that part of the world, may be spared for any other service here or elsewhere; so that both the offensive and defensive strength of the british empire, on the whole, will be greatly increased. but to leave the french in possession of canada, _when it is in our power to remove them, and depend_ (as the remarker proposes) _on our own_ "strength and watchfulness[ ]" _to prevent the mischiefs that may attend it, seems neither safe nor prudent_. happy as we now are, under the best of kings, and in the prospect of a succession promising every felicity a nation was ever blessed with; happy too in the wisdom and vigour of every part of the administration; we cannot, we ought not to promise ourselves the uninterrupted continuance of those blessings. the safety of a considerable part of the state, and the interest of the whole, are not to be trusted to the wisdom and vigour of _future administrations_; when a security is to be had more effectual, more constant, and much less expensive. they, who can be moved by the apprehension of dangers so remote, as that of the future independence of our colonies (a point i shall hereafter consider) seem scarcely consistent with themselves, when they suppose we may rely on the wisdom and vigour of an administration for their safety.--i should indeed think it less material whether canada were ceded to us or not, if i had in view only the security of _possession_ in our colonies. i entirely agree with the remarker, that we are in north america "a far greater continental as well as naval power;" and that only cowardice or ignorance can subject our colonies there to a french conquest. but for the same reason i disagree with him widely upon another point. [ . _the blood and treasure spent in the american wars, not spent in the cause of the colonies alone._] i do not think, that our "blood and treasure has been expended," as he intimates, "_in the cause of the colonies_," and that we are "making conquests for _them_[ ];" yet i believe this is too common an error. i do not say, they are altogether unconcerned in the event. the inhabitants of them are, in common with the other subjects of great britain, anxious for the glory of her crown, the extent of her power and commerce, the welfare and future repose of the whole british people. they could not therefore but take a large share in the affronts offered to britain; and have been animated with a truly british spirit to exert themselves beyond their strength, and against their evident interest. yet so unfortunate have they been, that their virtue has made against them; for upon no better foundation than this have they been supposed the authors of a war, carried on for their advantage only. it is a great mistake to imagine, that the american country in question between great britain and france is claimed as the property of any _individuals or public body in america_; or that the possession of it by great britain is likely, in any lucrative view, to redound at all to the advantage of any person there. on the other hand, the bulk of the inhabitants of north america are _land-owners_, whose lands are inferior in value to those of britain, only by the want of an equal number of people. it is true, the accession of the large territory claimed before the war began (especially if that be secured by the possession of canada) will tend to the increase of the british subjects faster, than if they had been confined within the mountains: yet the increase within the mountains only would evidently make the comparative population equal to that of great britain much sooner than it can be expected, when our people are spread over a country six times as large. i think this is the only point of light in which this question is to be viewed, and is the only one in which any of the colonies are concerned.--no colony, no possessor of lands in any colony, therefore wishes for conquests, or can be benefitted by them, otherwise than as they may be a means of _securing peace on their borders_. no considerable advantage has resulted to the colonies by the conquests of this war, or can result from confirming them by the peace, but what they must enjoy in common with the rest of the british people; with this evident drawback from their share of these advantages, that they will necessarily lessen, or at least prevent the increase of the value of what makes the principal part of their private property [their land]. a people, spread through the whole tract of country on this side the mississippi, and secured by canada in our hands, would probably for some centuries find employment in agriculture, and thereby free us at home effectually from our fears of american manufactures. unprejudiced men well know, that all the penal and prohibitory laws that ever were thought on will not be sufficient to prevent manufactures in a country, whose inhabitants surpass the number that can subsist by the husbandry of it. that this will be the case in america soon, if our people remain confined within the mountains, and almost as soon should it be unsafe for them to live beyond, though the country be ceded to us, no man acquainted with political and commercial history can doubt. manufactures are founded in poverty: it is the multitude of poor without land in a country, and who must work for others at low wages or starve, that enables undertakers to carry on a manufacture, and afford it cheap enough to prevent the importation of the same kind from abroad, and to bear the expence of its own exportation.--but no man, who can have a piece of land of his own, sufficient by his labour to subsist his family in plenty, is poor enough to be a manufacturer, and work for a master. hence, while there is land enough in america for our people, there can never be manufactures to any amount or value. it is a striking observation of a very _able pen_[ ], that the natural livelihood of the thin inhabitants of a forest country is hunting; that of a greater number, pasturage: that of a middling population, agriculture; and that of the greatest, manufactures; which last must subsist the bulk of the people in a full country, or they must be subsisted by charity, or perish. the extended population, therefore, that is most advantageous to great britain, will be best effected, because only effectually secured, by our possession of canada. so far as the _being_ of our present colonies in north america is concerned, i think indeed with the remarker, that the french there are not _"an enemy to be apprehended[ ];"_--but the expression is too vague to be applicable to the present, or indeed to any other case. algiers, tunis, and tripoli, unequal as they are to this nation in power and numbers of people, are enemies to be still apprehended; and the highlanders of scotland have been so for many ages, by the greatest princes of scotland and britain. the wild irish were able to give a great deal of disturbance even to queen elizabeth, and cost her more blood and treasure than her war with spain. canada, in the hands of france, has always stinted the growth of our colonies, in the course of this war, and indeed before it, has disturbed and vexed even the best and strongest of them; has found means to murder thousands of their people, and unsettle a great part of their country. much more able will it be to starve the growth of an infant settlement. canada has also found means to make this nation spend two or three millions a year in america; and a people, how small soever, that in their present situation, can do this as often as we have a war with them, is, methinks, "an enemy to be apprehended." our north american colonies are to be considered as the _frontier of the british empire_ on that side. the frontier of any dominion being attacked, it becomes not merely "the cause" of the people immediately attacked (the inhabitants of that frontier) but properly "the cause" of the whole body. where the frontier people owe and pay obedience, there they have a right to look for protection: no political proposition is better established than this. it is therefore invidious, to represent the "blood and treasure" spent in this war, as spent in "the cause of the colonies" only; and that they are "absurd and ungrateful," if they think we have done nothing, unless we "make conquests for them," and reduce canada to gratify their "vain ambition," &c. it will not be a conquest for _them_, nor gratify any vain ambition of theirs. it will be a conquest for the _whole_; and all our people will, in the increase of trade, and the ease of taxes, find the advantage of it. should we be obliged at any time, to make a war for the protection of our commerce, and to secure the exportation of our manufactures, would it be fair to represent such a war, merely as blood and treasure spent in the cause of the weavers of yorkshire, norwich, or the west; the cutlers of sheffield, or the button-makers of birmingham? i hope it will appear before i end these sheets, that if ever there was a national war, this is truly such a one: a war in which the interest of the whole nation is directly and fundamentally concerned. those, who would be thought deeply skilled in human nature, affect to discover self-interested views every where at the bottom of the fairest, the most generous conduct. suspicions and charges of this kind meet with ready reception and belief in the minds even of the multitude, and therefore less acuteness and address, than the remarker is possessed of, would be sufficient to persuade the nation generally, that all the zeal and spirit, manifested and exerted by the colonies in this war, was only in "their own cause," to "make conquests for themselves," to engage us to make more for them, to gratify their own "vain ambition." but should they now humbly address the mother-country in the terms and the sentiments of the remarker; return her their grateful acknowledgments for the blood and treasure she had spent in "their cause;" confess that enough had not been done "for them;" allow that "english forts, raised in proper passes, will, with the wisdom and vigour of her administration," be a sufficient future protection; express their desires that their people may be confined within the mountains, lest [if] they are suffered to spread and extend themselves in the fertile and pleasant country on the other side, they should "increase infinitely from all causes," "live wholly on their own labour" and become independent; beg therefore that the french may be suffered to remain in possession of canada, as their neighbourhood may be useful to prevent our increase, and the removing them may "in its consequences be even dangerous[ ]:"--i say, should such an address from the colonies make its appearance here (though, according to the remarker, it would be a most just and reasonable one) would it not, might it not with more justice be answered:--we understand you, gentlemen, perfectly well: you have only your own interest in view: you want to have the people confined within your present limits, that in a few years the lands you are possessed of may increase tenfold in value! you want to reduce the price of labour, by increasing numbers on the same territory, that you may be able to set up manufactures and vie with your mother-country! you would have your people kept in a body, that you may be more able to dispute the commands of the crown, and obtain an independency. you would have the french left in canada, to exercise your military virtue, and make you a warlike people, that you may have more confidence to embark in schemes of disobedience, and greater ability to support them! you have tasted too, the sweets of two or three millions sterling per annum spent among you by our fleets and forces, and you are unwilling to be without a pretence for kindling up another war, and thereby occasioning a repetition of the same delightful doses! but, gentlemen, allow us to understand _our_ interest a little likewise: we shall remove the french from canada, that you may live in peace, and we be no more drained by your quarrels. you shall have land enough to cultivate, that you may have neither necessity nor inclination to go into manufactures; and we will manufacture for you, and govern you. a reader of the remarks may be apt to say, if this writer would have us restore canada, on principles of moderation, how can we, consistent with those principles, retain guadaloupe, which he represents of so much greater value!--i will endeavour to explain this, because by doing it i shall have an opportunity of showing the truth and good sense of the answer to the interested application i have just supposed: the author then is only apparently and not really inconsistent with himself. if we can obtain the credit of moderation by restoring canada, it is well: but we should, however, restore it at _all events_; because it would not only be of no use to us; but "the possession of it (in his opinion) may in its consequences be dangerous[ ]." as how? why, plainly, (at length it comes out) if the french are not left there to check the growth of our colonies, "they will extend themselves almost without bounds into the inland parts, and increase infinitely from all causes; becoming a numerous, hardy, independent people; possessed of a strong country, communicating little or not at all with england, living wholly on their own labour, and in process of time knowing little and enquiring little about the mother-country." in short, according to this writer, our present colonies are large enough and numerous enough; and the french ought to be left in north america to prevent their increase, lest they become not only useless, but dangerous to britain. i agree with the gentleman, that with canada in our possession, our people in america will increase amazingly. i know, that their common rate of increase, where they are not molested by the enemy, is doubling their numbers every twenty-five years, by natural generation only; exclusive of the accession of foreigners[ ]. i think this increase continuing would probably, in a century more, make the number of british subjects on that side the water more numerous than they now are on this; but, [ . _not necessary that the american colonies should_ cease being useful to the _mother-country_. _their_ preference _over the west-indian colonies stated_.] _i am far from entertaining on that account, any fears of their becoming either useless or dangerous to us; and i look on those fears to be merely imaginary, and without any probable foundation._--the remarker is reserved in giving his reasons; as in his opinion this "is not a fit subject for discussion."--i shall give mine, because i conceive it a subject necessary to be discussed; and the rather, as those fears, how groundless and chimerical soever, may, by possessing the multitude, possibly induce the ablest ministry to conform to them against their own judgment; and thereby prevent the assuring to the british name and nation a stability and permanency, that no man acquainted with history durst have hoped for, till our american possessions opened the pleasing prospect. the remarker thinks, that our people in america, "finding no check from canada, would extend themselves almost without bounds into the inland parts, and increase infinitely from all causes." the very reason he assigns for their so extending, and which is indeed the true one (their being "invited to it by the pleasantness, fertility, and plenty of the country,") may satisfy us, that this extension will continue to proceed, as long as there remains any pleasant fertile country within their reach. and if we even suppose them confined by the waters of the mississippi westward, and by those of st. laurence and the lakes to the northward; yet still we shall leave them room enough to increase, even in the manner of settling now practised there, till they amount to perhaps a hundred millions of souls. this must take some centuries to fulfil: and in the _mean time_, this nation must necessarily supply them with the manufactures they consume; because the new settlers will be employed in agriculture; and the new settlements will so continually draw off the spare hands from the old, that our present colonies will not, during the period we have mentioned, find themselves in a condition to manufacture, even for their own inhabitants, to any considerable degree, much less for those who are settling behind them. thus our trade must, till that country becomes as fully peopled as england (that is for centuries to come) be continually increasing, and with it our naval power; because the ocean is between us and them, and our ships and seamen must increase as that trade increases.--the human body and the political differ in this; that the first is limited by nature to a certain stature, which, when attained, it cannot ordinarily exceed: the other, by better government and more prudent police, as well as by change of manners and other circumstances, often takes fresh starts of growth, after being long at a stand; and may add tenfold to the dimensions it had for ages been confined to. the mother, being of full stature, is in a few years equalled by a growing daughter: but in the case of a mother-country and her colonies, it is quite different. the growth of the children tends to increase the growth of the mother, and so the difference and superiority is longer preserved. were the inhabitants of this island limited to their present number by any thing in nature, or by unchangeable circumstances, the equality of population between the two countries might indeed sooner come to pass: but sure experience, in those parts of the island where manufactures have been introduced, teaches us; that people increase and multiply in proportion as the means and facility of gaining a livelihood increase; and that this island, if they could be employed, is capable of supporting ten times its present number of people. in proportion, therefore, as the demand increases for the manufactures of britain, by the increase of people in her colonies, the number of her people at home will increase; and with them, the strength as well as the wealth of the nation. for satisfaction in this point, let the reader compare in his mind the number and force of our present fleets, with our fleet in queen elizabeth's time[ ], before we had colonies. let him compare the ancient, with the present state of our towns on or near our western coast (manchester, liverpool, kendal, lancaster, glasgow, and the countries round them) that trade with any manufacture for our colonies (not to mention leeds, halifax, sheffield, and birmingham,) and consider what a difference there is in the numbers of people, buildings, rents, and the value of land and of the produce of land; even if he goes back no farther than is within man's memory. let him compare those countries with others on the same island, where manufactures have not yet extended themselves; observe the present difference, and reflect how much greater our strength may be (if numbers give strength) when our manufacturers shall occupy every part of the island where they can possibly be subsisted. but, say the objectors, "there is a _certain distance from the sea_, in america, beyond which the expence of carriage will put a stop to the sale and consumption of your manufactures; and this, with the difficulty of making returns for them, will oblige the inhabitants to manufacture for themselves; of course, if you suffer your people to extend their settlements beyond that distance, your people become useless to you:" and this distance is limited by some to two hundred miles, by others to the apalachian mountains.--not to insist on a very plain truth, that no part of a dominion, from whence a government may on occasion draw supplies and aids both of men and money (though at too great a distance to be supplied with manufactures from some other part) is therefore to be deemed useless to the whole; i shall endeavour to show, that these imaginary limits of utility, even in point of commerce, are much too narrow. the inland parts of the continent of europe are farther from the sea, than the limits of settlement proposed for america. germany is full of tradesmen and artificers of all kinds, and the governments there are not all of them always favourable to the commerce of britain; yet it is a well-known fact, that our manufactures find their way even into the heart of germany. ask the great manufacturers and merchants of the leeds, sheffield, birmingham, manchester, and norwich goods; and they will tell you, that some of them send their riders frequently through france or spain, and italy, up to vienna, and back through the middle and northern parts of germany, to show samples of their wares, and collect orders, which they receive by almost every mail, to a vast amount. whatever charges arise on the carriage of goods are added to the value, and all paid by the consumer. if these nations, over whom we have no government, over whose consumption we can have no influence, but what arises from the cheapness and goodness of our wares, whose trade, manufactures, or commercial connections are not subject to the control of our laws, as those of our colonies certainly are in some degree; i say, if these nations purchase and consume such quantities of our goods, notwithstanding the remoteness of their situation from the sea; how much less likely is it, that the settlers in america, who must for ages be employed in agriculture chiefly, should make cheaper for themselves the goods our manufacturers at present supply them with: even if we suppose the carriage five, six, or seven hundred miles from the sea as difficult and expensive, as the like distance into germany: whereas in the latter, the natural distances are frequently doubled by political obstructions; i mean the intermixed territories and clashing interests of princes[ ]. but when we consider, that the inland parts of america are penetrated by great navigable rivers; that there are a number of great lakes, communicating with each other, with those rivers, and with the sea, very small portages here and there excepted[ ]; that the sea-coasts (if one may be allowed the expression) of those lakes only amount at least to two thousand seven hundred miles, exclusive of the rivers running into them (many of which are navigable to a great extent for boats and canoes, through vast tracts of country); how little likely is it that the expence on the carriage of our goods into those countries should prevent the use of them. if the poor indians in those remote parts are now able to pay for the linen, woollen, and iron wares they are at present furnished with by the french and english traders (though indians have nothing but what they get by hunting, and the goods are loaded with all the impositions fraud and knavery can contrive to inhance their value) will not industrious english farmers, hereafter settled in those countries, be much better able to pay for what shall be brought them in the way of fair commerce? if it is asked, _what_ can such farmers raise, wherewith to pay for the manufactures they may want from us? i answer, that the inland parts of america in question are well known to be fitted for the production of hemp, flax, pot-ash, and above all, silk; the southern parts may produce olive-oil, raisins, currants, indigo, and cochineal. not to mention horses and black cattle, which may easily be driven to the maritime markets, and at the same time assist in conveying other commodities. that the commodities first mentioned may easily, by water and land-carriage, be brought to the sea-ports from interior america, will not seem incredible, when we reflect, that _hemp_ formerly came from the ukraine and most southern parts of russia to wologda, and down the dwina to archangel; and thence, by a perilous navigation, round the north cape to england, and other parts of europe. it now comes from the same country up the dnieper, and down the duna[ ], with much land-carriage. great part of the russia _iron_, no high-priced commodity, is brought three hundred miles by land and water from the heart of siberia. _furs_ [the produce too of america] are brought to amsterdam from all parts of siberia, even the most remote, kamstchatka. the same country furnishes me with another instance of extended inland commerce. it is found worth while to keep up a mercantile communication between pekin in china, and petersburgh. and none of these instances of inland commerce _exceed_ those of the courses by which, at several periods, _the whole trade of the east_ was carried on. before the prosperity of the mameluke dominion in egypt fixed the staple for the riches of the east at cairo and alexandria (whither they were brought from the red sea) great part of those commodities were carried to the cities of cashgar and balk. (this gave birth to those towns, that still subsist upon the remains of their ancient opulence, amidst a people and country equally wild.) from thence those goods were carried down the amû (the ancient oxus) to the caspian sea, and up the wolga to astrachan; from whence they were carried over to, and down the don, to the mouth of that river; and thence again the venetians directly, and the genoese and venetians indirectly (by way of kaffa and trebisonde) dispersed them through the mediterranean and some other parts of europe. another part of those goods was carried over-land from the wolga to the rivers duna and neva; from both they were carried to the city of wisbuy in the baltic (so eminent for its sea-laws); and from the city of ladoga on the neva, we are told they were even carried by the dwina to archangel; and from thence round the north cape.--if iron and hemp will bear the charge of carriage from this inland country, _other metals_ will, as well as iron; and certainly _silk_, since _d._ per _lb._ is not above per cent on the value, and amounts to _l._ per ton. if the _growths_ of a country find their way out of it; the _manufactures_ of the country where they go will infallibly find their way into it. they, who understand the economy and principles of manufactures, know, that it is impossible to establish them in places not populous: and even in those that are populous, hardly possible to establish them to the prejudices of the places _already in possession of them_. several attempts have been made in france and spain, countenanced by the government, to draw from us, and establish in those countries, our hard-ware and woollen manufactures; but without success. the reasons are various. a manufacture is part of a great system of commerce, which takes in conveniencies of various kinds; methods of providing materials of all sorts, machines for expediting and facilitating labour, all the channels of correspondence for vending the wares, the credit and confidence necessary to found and support this correspondence, the mutual aid of different artizans, and a thousand other particulars, which time and long experience have _gradually_ established. a part of such a system cannot support itself without the whole: and before the whole can be obtained the part perishes. manufactures, where they are in perfection, are carried on by a multiplicity of hands, each of which is expert only in his own part; no one of them a master of the whole; and, if by any means spirited away to a foreign country, he is lost without his fellows. then it is a matter of the extremest difficulty to persuade a complete set of workmen, skilled in all parts of a manufactory, to leave their country together, and settle in a foreign land. some of the idle and drunken may be enticed away; but these only disappoint their employers, and serve to discourage the undertaking. if by royal munificence, and an expence that the profits of the trade alone would not bear, a complete set of good and skilful hands are collected and carried over, they find so much of the system imperfect, so many things wanting to carry on the trade to advantage, so many difficulties to overcome, and the knot of hands so easily broken by death, dissatisfaction, and desertion; that they and their employers are discouraged together, and the project vanishes into smoke. hence it happens, that established manufactures are hardly ever lost, but by foreign conquest, or by some eminent interior fault in manners or government; a bad police oppressing and discouraging the workmen, or religious persecutions driving the sober and industrious out of the country. there is, in short, scarce a single instance in history of the contrary, where manufactures have once taken firm root. they sometimes start up in a new place; but are generally supported, like exotic plants, at more expence than they are worth for any thing but curiosity; until these new seats become the refuge of the manufacturers driven from the old ones. the conquest of constantinople, and final reduction of the greek empire, dispersed many curious manufacturers into different parts of christendom. the former conquests of its provinces, had _before_ done the same. the loss of liberty in verona, milan, florence, pisa, pistoia, and other great cities of italy, drove the manufacturers of woollen cloths into spain and flanders. the latter first lost their trade and manufactures to antwerp and the cities of brabant; from whence, by persecution for religion, they were sent into holland and england: [while] the civil wars, during the minority of charles the first of spain, which ended in the loss of the liberty of their great towns, ended too in the loss of the manufactures of toledo, segovia, salamanca, medina del campo, &c. the revocation of the _edict of nantes_ communicated, to all the protestant part of europe, the paper, silk, and other valuable manufacturers of france; almost peculiar at that time to that country, and till then in vain attempted elsewhere. to be convinced, that it is not soil and climate, or even freedom from taxes, that determines the residence of manufacturers, we need only turn our eyes on holland; where a multitude of manufactures are still carried on (perhaps more than on the same extent of territory any where in europe) and sold on terms upon which they cannot be had in any other part of the world. and this too is true of those _growths_, which, by their nature and the labour required to raise them, come the nearest to manufactures. as to the common-place objection to the north-american settlements, that they are _in the same climate, and their produce the same as that of england_;--in the first place it is not true; it is particularly not so of the countries now likely to be added to our settlements; and of our present colonies, the products, lumber, tobacco, rice, and indigo, great articles of commerce, do not interfere with the products of england: in the next place, a man must know very little of the trade of the world, who does not know, that the greater part of it is carried on between countries whose climate differs very little. even the trade between the different parts of these british islands is greatly superior to that between england and all the west india islands put together. if i have been successful in proving that a considerable commerce may and will subsist between us and our future most inland settlements in north america, notwithstanding their distance; i have more than half proved no _other inconveniency will arise_ from their distance. many men in such a country must "know," must "think," and must "care" about the country they chiefly trade with. the juridical and other connections of government are yet a faster hold than even commercial ties, and spread, directly and indirectly, far and wide. business to be solicited and causes depending create a great intercourse, even where private property is _not_ divided in different countries;--yet this division _will_ always subsist, where different countries are ruled by the same government. where a man has landed property both in the mother country and a province, he will almost always live in the mother country: this, though there were no trade, is singly a sufficient gain. it is said, that ireland pays near a million sterling annually to its absentees in england: the balance of trade from spain, or even portugal, is scarcely equal to this. let it not be said we have _no absentees_ from north america. there are many, to the writer's knowledge; and if there are at present but few of them, that distinguish themselves here by great expence, it is owing to the mediocrity of fortune among the inhabitants of the northern colonies, and a more equal division of landed property, than in the west india islands, so that there are as yet but few large estates. but if those, who have such estates, reside upon and take care of them themselves, are they worse subjects than they would be if they lived idly in england?--great merit is assumed for the gentlemen of the west indies,[ ] on the score of their residing and spending their money in england. i would not depreciate that merit; it is considerable; for they might, if they pleased, spend their money in france: but the difference between their spending it here and at home is not so great. what do they spend it in when they are here, but the produce and manufactures of this country;--and would they not do the same if they were at home? is it of any great importance to the english farmer, whether the west india gentleman comes to london and eats his beef, pork, and tongues, fresh; or has them brought to him in the west indies salted? whether he eats his english cheese and butter, or drinks his english ale, at london or in barbadoes? is the clothier's, or the mercer's, or the cutler's, or the toyman's profit less, for their goods being worn and consumed by the same persons residing on the other side of the ocean? would not the profits of the merchant and mariner be rather greater, and some addition made to our navigation, ships and seamen? if the north american gentleman stays in his own country, and lives there in that degree of luxury and expence with regard to the use of british manufactures, that his fortune entitles him to; may not his example (from the imitation of superiors, so natural to mankind) spread the use of those manufactures among hundreds of families around him, and occasion a much greater demand for them, than it would do if he should remove and live in london?--however this may be, if in our views of immediate advantage, it seems preferable, that the gentlemen of large fortunes in north america should reside much in england; it is what may surely be expected, as fast as such fortunes are acquired there. their having "colleges of their own for the education of their youth," will not prevent it: a little knowledge and learning acquired increases the appetite for more, and will make the conversation of the learned on this side the water more strongly desired. ireland has its university likewise; yet this does not prevent the immense pecuniary benefit we receive from that kingdom. and there will always be, in the conveniencies of life, the politeness, the pleasures, the magnificence of the reigning country, many other attractions besides those of learning, to draw men of substance there, where they can (apparently at least) have the best bargain of happiness for their money. our _trade to the west india islands_ is undoubtedly a valuable one: but whatever is the amount of it, it _has long been at a stand_. limited as our sugar planters are by the scantiness of territory, they cannot increase much beyond their present number; and this is an evil, as i shall show hereafter, that will be little helped by our keeping guadaloupe.--the trade to our northern colonies is not only greater, but yearly increasing with the increase of people: and even in a greater proportion, as the people increase in wealth and the ability of spending, as well as in numbers.[ ]--i have already said, that _our people in the northern colonies_ double in about years, exclusive of the accession of strangers. that i speak within bounds, i appeal to the authentic accounts frequently required by the board of trade, and transmitted to that board by the respective governors; of which accounts i shall select one as a sample, being that from the colony of rhode-island;[ ] a colony that of all the others receives the least addition from strangers.--for the increase of our _trade to those colonies_, i refer to the accounts frequently laid before parliament, by the officers of the customs, and to the custom-house books: from which i have also selected one account, that of the trade from england (exclusive of scotland) to pensylvania[ ]; a colony most remarkable for the plain frugal manner of living of its inhabitants, and the most suspected of carrying on manufactures, on account of the number of german artizans, who are known to have transplanted themselves into that country; though even these, in truth, when they come there, generally apply themselves to agriculture, as the surest support and most advantageous employment. by this account it appears, that the exports to that province have in years, increased nearly in the proportion of to ; whereas the people themselves, who by other authentic accounts appear to double their numbers (the strangers who settle there included) in about years, cannot in the years have increased in a greater proportion than as to . the additional demand then, and consumption of goods from england, of parts in more than the additional number would require, must be owing to this; that the people having by their industry mended their circumstances, are enabled to indulge themselves in finer clothes, better furniture, and a more general use of all our manufactures than heretofore. in fact, the occasion for english goods in north america, and the inclination to have and use them, is, and must be for ages to come, much greater than the ability of the people to pay for them; they must therefore, as they now do, deny themselves many things they would otherwise chuse to have, or increase their industry to obtain them. and thus, if they should at any time manufacture some coarse article, which on account of its bulk or some other circumstance, cannot so well be brought to them from britain; it only enables them the better to pay for finer goods, that _otherwise_ they could not indulge themselves in: so that the exports thither are not diminished by such manufacture, but rather increased. the single article of manufacture in these colonies, mentioned by the remarker, is _hats_ made in new-england. it is true, there have been, ever since the first settlement of that country, a few hatters there; drawn thither probably at first by the facility of getting beaver, while the woods were but little cleared, and there was plenty of those animals. the case is greatly altered now. the beaver skins are not now to be had in new-england, but from very remote places and at great prices. the trade is accordingly declining there; so that, far from being able to make hats in any quantity for exportation, they cannot supply their home demand; and it is well known, that some thousand dozens are sent thither yearly from london, bristol, and liverpool, and sold there cheaper than the inhabitants can make them of equal goodness. in fact, the colonies are so little suited for establishing of manufactures, that they are continually losing the few branches they accidentally gain. the working brasiers, cutlers, and pewterers, as well as hatters, who have happened to go over from time to time and settle in the colonies, gradually drop the working part of their business, and import their respective goods from england, whence they can have them cheaper and better than they can make them. they continue their shops indeed, in the same way of dealing; but become _sellers_ of brasiery, cutlery, pewter, hats, &c. brought from england, instead of being _makers_ of those goods. [ . _the american colonies_ not dangerous _in their nature to great britain_.] thus much to the apprehension of our colonies becoming useless to us. i shall next consider the other supposition, that their growth may render them _dangerous_.--of this, i own, i have not the least conception, when i consider that we have already _fourteen separate governments_ on the maritime coast of the continent; and, if we extend our settlements, shall probably have as many more behind them on the inland side. those we now have are not only under different governors, but have different forms of government, different laws, different interests, and some of them different religious persuasions and different manners.--their jealousy of each other is so great, that however necessary an union of the colonies has long been, for their common defence and security against their enemies, and how sensible soever each colony has been of that necessity; yet they have never been able to effect such an union among themselves; nor even to agree in requesting the mother country to establish it for them. nothing but the immediate command of the crown has been able to produce even the imperfect union, but lately seen there, of the forces of some colonies. if they could not agree to unite for their defence against the french and indians, who were perpetually harassing their settlements, burning their villages, and murdering their people; can it reasonably be supposed there is any danger of their uniting against their own nation, which protects and encourages them, with which they have so many connections and ties of blood, interest and affection, and which, it is well known, they all love much more than they love one another? in short, there are so many causes that must operate to prevent it, that i will venture to say, an union amongst them for such a purpose is not merely improbable, it is impossible. and if the union of the whole is impossible, the attempt of a part must be madness; as those colonies that did not join the rebellion would join the mother-country in suppressing it. when i say such an union is impossible, i mean, without the most grievous tyranny and oppression. people who have property in a country which they may lose, and privileges which they may endanger, are generally disposed to be quiet, and even to bear much, rather than hazard all. while the government is mild and just, while important civil and religious rights are secure, such subjects will be dutiful and obedient. the waves do not rise but when the winds blow. what such an administration as the duke of alva's in the netherlands might produce, i know not; but this i think i have a right to deem impossible. and yet there were two very manifest differences between that case, and ours; and both are in our favour. the _first_, that spain had already united the seventeen provinces under one visible government, though the states continued independent: the _second_, that the inhabitants of those provinces were of a nation, not only different from, but utterly unlike the spaniards. had the netherlands been peopled from spain, the worst of oppression had probably not provoked them to wish a separation of government. it might, and probably would, have ruined the country; but would never have produced an independent sovereignty. in fact, neither the very worst of governments, the worst of politics in the last century, nor the total abolition of their remaining liberty, in the provinces of spain itself, in the present, have produced any independency [in spain] that could be supported. the same may be observed of france. and let it not be said, that the neighbourhood of these to the seat of government has prevented a separation. while our strength at sea continues, the banks of the ohio (in point of easy and expeditious conveyance of troops) are nearer to london, than the remote parts of france and spain to their respective capitals; and much nearer than connaught and ulster were in the days of queen elizabeth. no body foretels the dissolution of the russian monarchy from its extent; yet i will venture to say, the eastern parts of it are already much more inaccessible from petersburgh, than the country on the mississippi is from london; i mean, more men, in less time, might be conveyed the latter than the former distance. the rivers oby, jenesea, and lena, do not facilitate the communication half so well by their course, nor are they half so practicable as the american rivers. to this i shall only add the observation of machiavel, in his prince; that a government seldom long preserves its dominion over those who are foreigners to it; who, on the other hand, fall with great ease, and continue inseparably annexed to the government of their own nation: which he proves by the fate of the english conquests in france. yet with all these disadvantages, so difficult is it to overturn an established government, that it was not without the assistance of france and england, that the united provinces supported themselves: which teaches us, that [ . _the french remaining in canada, an encouragement to disaffections in the british colonies_.--_if they prove a_ check, _that check of the most barbarous nature_.] _if the visionary danger of independence in our colonies is to be feared; nothing is more likely to render it substantial, than the neighbourhood of foreigners at enmity with the sovereign governments, capable of giving either_ aid[ ], _or an_ asylum, _as the event shall require_. yet against even these disadvantages, did spain preserve almost ten provinces, merely through their want of union; which indeed could never have taken place among the others, but for causes, some of which are in our case impossible, and others it is impious to suppose possible. the romans well understood that policy, which teaches the security arising to the chief government from separate states among the governed; when they restored the liberties of the states of greece (oppressed but united under macedon) by an edict, that every state should live under its own laws. they did not even name a governor. independence of each other, and separate interests (though among a people united by common manners, language, and i may say religion; inferior neither in wisdom, bravery, nor their love of liberty, to the romans themselves;) was all the security the sovereigns wished for their sovereignty. it is true, they did not call themselves sovereigns; they set no value on the title; they were contented with possessing the thing. and possess it they did, even without a standing army: (what can be a stronger proof of the security of their possession?) and yet by a policy, similar to this throughout, was the roman world subdued and held: a world composed of above an hundred languages, and sets of manners, different from those of their masters. yet this dominion was unshakeable, till the loss of liberty and corruption of manners in the sovereign state overturned it. _but what is the prudent policy, inculcated by the remarker to obtain this end, security of dominion over our colonies? it is_, to leave the french _in_ canada, to "check" their growth; _for otherwise, our people may "increase infinitely from all causes[ ]."_ we have already seen in what manner the french and their indians check the growth of our colonies. it is a modest word, this _check_, for massacring men, women, and children. the writer would, if he could, hide from himself as well as from the public, the horror arising from such a proposal, by couching it in general terms: it is no wonder he thought it a "subject not fit for discussion" in his letter; though he recommends it as "a point that should be the constant object of the minister's attention!" but if canada is restored on this principle, will not britain be guilty of all the blood to be shed, all the murders to be committed, in order to check this dreaded growth of our own people? will not this be telling the french in plain terms, that the horrid barbarities they perpetrate with their indians on our colonists are agreeable to us; and that they need not apprehend the resentment of a government, with whose views they so happily concur? will not the colonies view it in this light? will they have reason to consider themselves any longer as subjects and children, when they find their cruel enemies hallooed upon them by the country from whence they sprung; the government that owes them protection, as it requires their obedience? is not this the most likely means of driving them into the arms of the french, who can invite them by an offer of that security, their own government chuses not to afford them? i would not be thought to insinuate, that the remarker wants humanity. i know how little many good-natured persons are affected by the distresses of people at a distance, and whom they do not know. there are even those, who, being present, can sympathize sincerely with the grief of a lady on the sudden death of a favourite bird; and yet can read of the sinking of a city in syria with very little concern. if it be, after all, thought necessary to check the growth of our colonies, give me leave to propose a method less cruel. it is a method of which we have an example in scripture. the murder of husbands, of wives, of brothers, sisters and children, whose pleasing society has been for some time enjoyed, affects deeply the respective surviving relations; but grief for the death of a child just born is short, and easily supported. the method i mean is that which was dictated by the egyptian policy, when the "infinite increase" of the children of israel was apprehended as dangerous to the state[ ]. let an act of parliament then be made, enjoining the colony midwives to stifle in the birth every third or fourth child. by this means you may keep the colonies to their present size. and if they were under the hard alternative of submitting to one or the other of these schemes for checking their growth, i dare answer for them, they would prefer the latter. _but all this debate about the propriety or impropriety of keeping or restoring canada_ is possibly too early. we have taken the capital indeed, but the country is yet far from being in our possession; and perhaps never will be: for if our m----rs are persuaded by such counsellors as the remarker, that the french there are "not the worst of neighbours," and that if we had conquered canada, we ought, for our own sakes, to restore it, as a check to the growth of our colonies; i am then afraid we shall never take it. for there are many ways of avoiding the completion of the conquest, that will be less exceptionable and less odious than the giving it up. [ . _canada easily peopled_, without draining great britain _of any of its inhabitants_.] _the objection i have often heard, that if we had canada we could not people it, without draining britain of its inhabitants, is founded on ignorance of the nature of population in new countries._ when we first began to colonize in america, it was necessary to send people, and to send seed-corn; but it is not now necessary that we should furnish, for a new colony, either one or the other. the annual increment alone of our present colonies, without diminishing their numbers, or requiring a man from hence, is sufficient in ten years to fill canada with double the number of english that it now has of french inhabitants[ ]. those who are protestants among the french will probably choose to remain under the english government; many will choose to remove, if they can be allowed to sell their lands, improvements, and effects: the rest in that thin-settled country will in less than half a century, from the crowds of english settling round and among them, be blended and incorporated with our people both in language and manners. [ . _the merits of guadaloupe to great britain_ over-valued; _yet likely to be paid_ much dearer for, _than canada_.] _in guadaloupe the case is somewhat different_; and though i am far from thinking[ ] we have sugar-land enough[ ], i cannot think guadaloupe is so desirable an increase of it, as other objects the enemy would probably be infinitely more ready to part with. a country, _fully inhabited_ by any nation, is no proper possession for another of different languages, manners, and religion. it is hardly ever tenable at less expence than it is worth. but the isle of _cayenne, and its appendix, equinoctial-france_, having but very few inhabitants, and these therefore easily removed, would indeed be an acquisition every way suitable to our situation and desires. this would hold all that migrate from barbadoes, the leeward islands, or jamaica. it would certainly recal into an english government (in which there would be room for millions) all who have before settled or purchased in martinico, guadaloupe, santa-cruz, or st. john's; except such as know not the value of an english government, and such i am sure are not worth recalling. but should we keep guadaloupe, we are told it would _enable us to export , _l._ in sugars_. admit it to be true, though perhaps the amazing increase of english consumption might stop most of it here,--to whose profit is this to redound? to the profit of the french inhabitants of the island: except a small part, that should fall to the share of the english purchasers, but whose whole purchase-money must first be added to the wealth and circulation of france. i grant, however, much of this , _l._ would be expended in british manufactures. perhaps too, a few of the land-owners of guadaloupe might dwell and spend their fortunes in britain (though probably much fewer than of the inhabitants of north america.) i admit the advantage arising to us from these circumstances (as far as they go) in the case of guadaloupe, as well as in that of our other west-india settlements. yet even this consumption is little better than that of an allied nation would be, who should take our manufactures and supply us with sugar, and put us to no great expence in defending the place of growth. but though our own colonies expend among us almost the whole produce of our sugar[ ], _can we, or ought we_ to promise ourselves this will be the case of guadaloupe? one , _l._ will supply them with british manufactures; and supposing we can effectually prevent the introduction of those of france (which is morally impossible in a country used to them) the other , _l._ will still be spent in france, in the education of their children and support of themselves; or else be laid up there, where they will always think their home to be. besides this consumption of british manufactures, _much is said of the benefit we shall have from the_ situation of guadaloupe; and we are told of a trade to the caraccas and spanish main. in what respect guadaloupe is better situated for this trade than jamaica, or even any of our other islands, i am at a loss to guess. i believe it to be not so well situated for that of the windward coast, as tobago and st. lucia; which in this, as well as other respects, would be more valuable possessions, and which, i doubt not, the peace will secure to us. nor is it nearly so well situated for that of the rest of the spanish main as jamaica. as to the greater safety of our trade by the possession of guadaloupe, experience has convinced us, that in reducing a single island, or even more, we stop the privateering business but little. privateers still subsist, in equal if not greater numbers, and carry the vessels into martinico, which before it was more convenient to carry into guadaloupe. had we all the caribbees, it is true, they would in those parts be without shelter. yet, upon the whole, i suppose it to be a doubtful point, and well worth consideration, whether our obtaining possession of all the caribbees would be more than a temporary benefit; as it would necessarily soon fill the french part of hispaniola with french inhabitants, and thereby render it five times more valuable in time of peace, and little less than impregnable in time of war, and would probably end in a few years in the uniting the whole of that great and fertile island under a french government. it is agreed on all hands, that our conquest of st. christopher's, and driving the french from thence, first furnished hispaniola with skilful and substantial planters, and was consequently the first occasion of its present opulence. on the other hand, i will hazard an opinion, that valuable as the french possessions in the west indies are, and undeniable the advantages they derive from them, there is somewhat to be weighed in the opposite scale. they cannot at present make war with england, without exposing those advantages, while divided among the numerous islands they now have, much more than they would, were they possessed of st. domingo only; their own share of which would, if well cultivated, grow more sugar, than is now grown in all their west-india islands. _i have before said, i do not deny the utility of the conquest, or even of our future possession of guadaloupe, if not bought too dear._ the trade of the west indies is one of our most valuable trades. our possessions there deserve our greatest care and attention. so do those of north america. i shall not enter into the invidious task of comparing their due estimation. it would be a very long, and a very disagreeable one, to run through every thing material on this head. it is enough to our present point, if i have shown, that the value of north america is capable of an immense increase, by an acquisition and measures, that must necessarily have an effect the direct contrary of what we have been industriously taught to fear; and that guadaloupe is, in point of advantage, but a very small addition to our west-india possessions; rendered many ways less valuable to us, than it is to the french, who will probably set more value upon it, than upon a country [canada] that is much more valuable to us than to them. there is a great deal more to be said on all the parts of these subjects; but as it would carry me into a detail, that i fear would tire the patience of my readers, and which i am not without apprehensions i have done already, i shall reserve what remains till i dare venture again on the indulgence of the public[ ]. footnotes: [ ] in the year , upon the prospect of a peace with france, the late earl of bath addressed a letter to two great men (mr. pitt and the duke of newcastle) on the terms necessary to be insisted upon in the negociation. he preferred the acquisition of canada, to acquisitions in the west indies. in the same year there appeared remarks on the letter addressed to two great men, containing opposite opinions on this and other subjects. at this moment a philosopher stepped into the controversy, and wrote a pamphlet entitled, the interest of great britain considered, with regard to her colonies, &c. the arguments he used, appear to have carried weight with them at the courts of london and paris, for canada was kept by the peace. the editor thinks it necessary to add the following further explanations.--the above piece (which first came to his hands in the shape of a pamphlet, printed for becket, , d edit.) has none of the eight subdivisions it is now thrown into, marked out by the author. he conceived however that they might be useful, and has taken the liberty of making them, but guards it with this apology. the better to suit his purpose, the division of the paragraphs, &c. and the italics of the original, are not accurately adhered to. it was impossible for him however to alter one word in the sense, style, or disposition, of his author: this was a liberty for which he could make no apology. in the original, the author has added his observations concerning the increase of mankind, peopling of countries, &c. [printed in the d vol. of this work] and introduced it with the following note. "in confirmation of the writer's opinion concerning population, manufactures, &c. he has thought it not amiss to add an extract from a piece written some years since in america, where the facts must be well known, on which the reasonings are founded. it is entitled, observations, &c." with respect to the arguments used by the authors of the letter, and of the remarks, it is useless to repeat them here. as far as they are necessary for the understanding of dr. franklin, they are to be collected from his own work. b. v. [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] ibid. p. . [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] ibid. [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] ibid. [ ] page , of the letter, and p. , of the remarks. [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] a very intelligent writer of that country, dr. clark, in his observations on the late and present conduct of the french, &c. printed at boston, , says, "the indians in the french interest are, upon all proper opportunities, _instigated by their priests_ (who have generally the chief management of their public councils) to acts of hostility against the english, even in time of profound peace between the two crowns. of this there are many undeniable instances: the war between the indians and the colonies of the massachusett's bay and new hampshire, in , by which those colonies suffered so much damage, was begun by the instigation of the french: their supplies were from them; and there are now original letters of several jesuits to be produced, whereby it evidently appears, that they were continually animating the indians, when almost tired with the war, to a farther prosecution of it. the french not only excited the indians, and supported them, but joined their own forces with them in all the late hostilities that have been committed within his majesty's province of nova scotia. and from an intercepted letter this year from the jesuits at penobscot, and from other information, it is certain, that they have been using their utmost endeavours to excite the indians to new acts of hostility against his majesty's colony of the massachusett's bay; and some have been committed. the french not only excite the indians to acts of hostility, but reward them for it, by _buying the english prisoners of them_: for the ransom of each of which they afterwards demand of us the price that is usually given for a slave in these colonies. they do this under the specious pretence of rescuing the poor prisoners from the cruelties and barbarities of the savages; but in reality to encourage them to continue their depredations, as they can by this means get more by hunting the english, than by hunting wild-beasts; and the french at the same time are thereby enabled to keep up a large body of indians, entirely at _the expence of the english_." [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] "although the indians live scattered, as a hunter's life requires, they may be collected together from almost any distance; as they can find their subsistence from their gun in their travelling. but let the number of the indians be what it will, they are not formidable merely on account of their numbers; there are many other circumstances that give them a great advantage over the english. the english inhabitants, though numerous, are extended over a large tract of land, five hundred leagues in length on the sea shore; and although some of their trading towns are thick settled, their settlements in the country towns must be at a distance from each other: besides, that in a new country where lands are cheap, people are fond of acquiring large tracts to themselves; and therefore in the out-settlements, they must be more remote: and as the people that move out are generally poor, they sit down either where they can easiest procure land, or soonest raise a subsistence. add to this, that the english have fixed settled habitations, the easiest and shortest passages to which the indians, by constantly hunting in the woods, are perfectly well acquainted with; whereas the english know little or nothing of the indian country, nor of the passages through the woods that lead to it. the indian way of making war is by sudden attack upon exposed places; and as soon as they have done mischief, they retire, and either go home by the same or some different route, as they think safest; or go to some other place at a distance, to renew their stroke. if a sufficient party should happily be ready to pursue them, it is a great chance, whether in a country consisting of woods and swamps, which the english are not acquainted with, the enemy do not lie in ambush for them in some convenient place, and from thence destroy them. if this should not be the case, but the english should pursue them, as soon as they have gained the rivers, by means of their canoes (to the use of which they are brought up from their infancy) they presently get out of their reach: further, if a body of men were to march into their country, to the place where they are settled, they can, upon the least notice, without great disadvantage, quit their present habitation, and betake themselves to new ones." _clark's observations_, p. . "it has been already remarked, that the tribes of the indians, living upon the lakes and rivers that run upon the back of the english settlements in north america, are very numerous, and can furnish a great number of fighting men, all perfectly well acquainted with the use of arms as soon as capable of carrying them, as they get the whole of their subsistence from hunting; and that this army, large as it may be, can be maintained by the french without any expence. from their numbers, their situation, and the rivers that run into the english settlements, it is easy to conceive, that they can at any time make an attack upon, and constantly annoy as many of the exposed english settlements as they please, and those at any distance from each other. the effects of such incursions have been too severely felt by many of the british colonies, not to be very well known. the entire breaking up places, that had been for a considerable time settled at a great expence both of labour and money; burning the houses, destroying the flock, killing and making prisoners great numbers of the inhabitants, with all the cruel usage they meet with in their captivity, is only a part of the scene. all other places that are exposed are kept in continual terror; the lands lie waste and uncultivated, from the danger that attends those that shall presume to work upon them: besides the immense charge the governments must be at in a very ineffectual manner to defend their extended frontiers; and all this from the influence the french have had over, but comparatively, a few of the indians. to the same or greater evils still will every one of the colonies be exposed, whenever the same influence shall be extended to the whole body of them." ibid. p. . [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] douglass. [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] this i believe is meant for dr. adam smith, who seems not at this time to have printed any of his political pieces. b. v. [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] remarks, p. , . [ ] remarks, p. , . [ ] the reason of this greater increase in america than in europe is, that in old settled countries, all trades, farms, offices, and employments are full; and many people refrain marrying till they see an opening, in which they can settle themselves, with a reasonable prospect of maintaining a family: but in america, it being easy to obtain land, which, with moderate labour will afford subsistence and something to spare, people marry more readily and earlier in life, whence arises a numerous offspring and the swift population of those countries. it is a common error, that we cannot fill our provinces or increase the number of them, without draining this nation of its people. the increment alone of our present colonies is sufficient for both those purposes. [written in .] [ ] viz. forty sail, none of more than forty guns. [ ] sir c. whitworth has the following assertion: "each state in germany is jealous of its neighbours; and hence, rather than facilitate the export or transit of its neighbours' products or manufactures, they have all recourse to strangers." state of trade, p. xxiv. b. v. [ ] from new york into lake ontario, the land-carriage of the several portages altogether, amounts to but about twenty-seven miles. from lake ontario into lake erie, the land-carriage at niagara is but about twelve miles. all the lakes above niagara communicate by navigable straits, so that no land-carriage is necessary, to go out of one into another. from presqu'isle on lake erie, there are but fifteen miles land-carriage, and that a good waggon-road, to beef river, a branch of the ohio; which brings you into a navigation of many thousand miles inland, if you take together the ohio, the mississippi, and all the great rivers and branches that run into them. [ ] i beg pardon for attempting to remind the reader that he must not confound the river duna, with the river dwina.--the fork of the ohio is about four hundred miles distant from the sea, and the fork of the mississippi about nine hundred: it is four hundred miles from petersburgh to moscow, and very considerably more than four thousand from petersburgh to pekin. this is enough to justify dr. franklin's positions in the page above, without going into farther particulars. b. v. [ ] remarks, p. , , &c. [ ] the writer has [since] obtained accounts of the exports to north america, and the west india islands; by which it appears, that there has been some increase of trade to those islands as well as to north america, though in a much less degree. the following extract from these accounts will show the reader at one view the amount of the exports to each, in two different terms of five years; the terms taken at ten years distance from each other, to show the increase, viz. _first term, from to , inclusive._ _northern colonies._ _west india islands._ £. , £. , , , , , , , , , --------------- --------------- total, £. , , tot. £. , , difference, , ------------- £. , , _second term, from to , inclusive._ _northern colonies._ _west india islands._ , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , --------------- --------------- total, £. , , tot. £. , , difference, , , --------------- £. , , in the first term, total of west india islands, , , in the second term, ditto , , --------------- increase, only £. , , in the first term, total for northern colonies, , , in the second term, ditto , , --------------- increase, £. , , by these accounts it appears, that the exports to the west india islands, and to the northern colonies, were in the first term nearly equal (the difference being only , _l._ s. d.) and in the second term, the exports to those islands had only increased , _l._ s. d.--whereas the increase to the northern colonies is , , _l._ s. d. almost _four millions_. some part of this increased demand for english goods may be ascribed to the armies and fleets we have had both in north america and the west indies; not so much for what is consumed by the soldiery; their clothing, stores, ammunition, &c. sent from hence on account of the government, being (as is supposed) not included in these accounts of merchandize exported; but, as the war has occasioned a great plenty of money in america, many of the inhabitants have increased their expence. n. b. these accounts do not include any exports from scotland to america, which are doubtless proportionally considerable; nor the exports from ireland. [i shall carry on this calculation where dr. franklin left it. for four years, from to inclusively, the same average _annual_ exports to the same ports of the west indies is , _l._, and to the same ports of the north american plantations , , _l._ but the annual averages of the first and second terms of the former were , _l._ and , _l._: of the latter, , _l._ and , , _l._ in ten years therefore (taking the middle years of the terms) the north american trade is found to have _doubled_ the west indian: in the next sixteen years it becomes greater by _three-fold_.--with respect to itself, the north american trade in years (taking the extremes of the terms) has quadrupled; while the west indian trade increased only one half; of which increase i apprehend jamaica has given more than one-third, chiefly in consequence of the quiet produced by the peace with the maroon negroes.--had the west indian trade continued stationary, the north american trade would have quadrupled with respect to it, in years; and this, notwithstanding the checks given to the latter, by their non-importation agreements and the encouragement of their own manufactures. there has been an accession to both these trades, produced by the cessions at the treaty of paris, not touched upon by dr. franklin. the average _annual_ export-trade, from to inclusively, to the ceded west india islands, amounted to , _l._: to the ceded north american territory it has been , _l._ see sir charles whitworth's state of trade. b. v.] [ ] _copy of the report of governor hopkins to the board of trade, on the numbers of people in rhode-island._ in obedience to your lordships' commands, i have caused the within account to be taken by officers under oath. by it there appears to be in this colony at this time , white persons, and blacks, chiefly negroes. in the year , by order of the then lords commissioners of trade and plantations, an account was taken of the number of people in this colony, and then there appeared to be , white persons, and blacks. again in the year , by like order, an account was taken of the number of people in this colony, by which it appears there were at that time , white persons, and blacks. _colony of rhode island, dec. , ._ stephen hopkins. [ ] _an account of the value of the exports from england to pensylvania, in one year, taken at different periods, viz._ in they amounted only to £. , they were , , , , , , n. b. the accounts for and , are not yet completed; but those acquainted with the north american trade know, that the increase in those two years has been in a still greater proportion; the last year being supposed to exceed any former year by a third; and this owing to the increased ability of the people to spend, from the greater quantities of money circulating among them by the war. [ ] the _aid_ dr. franklin alludes to must probably have consisted in early and full supplies of arms, officers, intelligence, and trade of export and of import, through the river st. lawrence, on risques both public and private; in the encouragement of splendid promises and a great ally; in the passage from canada to the back settlements, being _shut_ to the british _forces_; in the quiet of the _great body_ of indians; in the support of emissaries and discontented citizens; in loans and subsidies to congress, in ways _profitable to france_; in a refuge to be granted them in case of defeat, in vacant lands, as settlers; in the probability of war commencing earlier between england and france, at the gulph of st. lawrence (when the shipping taken, were _rightfully_ addressed to frenchmen) than in the present case. all this might have happened, as soon as america's distaste of the sovereign had exceeded the fear of the foreigner; a circumstance frequently seen possible in history, and which our ministers took care should not be wanting. this explanation would have required apology for its insertion, were not the opinion pretty common in england, that _had not the french been removed from canada, the revolt of america never would have taken place_. why then were the french _not left_ in canada, at the peace of ? or, since they _were not_ left there, why was the american dispute begun? yet in one sense, perhaps this opinion is true; for _had_ the french been left in canada, ministers would not only have _sooner_ felt, but _sooner_ have seen, the strange fatality of their plans. b. v. [ ] remarks, p. , . [ ] and pharoah said unto his people, behold the people of the children of israel are more and mightier than we; come on, let us deal wisely with them, lest they multiply, and it come to pass, that when there falleth out any war, they join also unto our enemies and fight against us, and so get them up out of the land. and the king spake to the hebrew midwives, &c. exodus, chap. . [ ] in fact, there have not gone from britain [itself] to our colonies these twenty years past to settle there, so many as ten families a year; the new settlers are either the offspring of the old, or emigrants from germany, or the north of ireland. [ ] remarks, p. , . [ ] it is often said we have plenty of sugar-land still unemployed in jamaica: but those who are well acquainted with that island know, that the remaining vacant land in it is generally situated among mountains, rocks, and gullies, that make carriage impracticable, so that no profitable use can be made of it; unless the price of sugars should so greatly increase, as to enable the planter to make very expensive roads, by blowing up rocks, erecting bridges, &c. every two or three hundred yards. [our author was somewhat misinformed here. b. v.] [ ] remarks, p. . [ ] dr. franklin has often been heard to say, that in writing this pamphlet he received considerable assistance from a learned friend, who was not willing to be named. b. v. _remarks and facts relative to the american paper-money._[ ] in the report of the board of trade, dated feb. , , the following reasons are given for _restraining the emission_ of paper-bills of credit in america, as _a legal tender_. . "that it _carries the gold and silver out_ of the province, and so ruins the country; as _experience has shewn_, in every colony where it has been practised in any great degree. . "that the _merchants_ trading to america _have suffered_ and lost by it. . "that the restriction [of it] _has had a beneficial effect_ in new england. . "that every _medium of trade should have an intrinsic value_, which paper-money has not. gold and silver are therefore the fittest for this medium, as they are an equivalent; which paper never can be. . "that _debtors_ in the assemblies make paper-money with _fraudulent views_. . "that in the middle colonies, where the credit of the paper-money has been best supported, the bills have _never kept to their nominal value_ in circulation; but have constantly depreciated to a certain degree, whenever the quantity has been increased." to consider these reasons in their order; the first is, . "_that paper-money_ carries the gold and silver out _of the province, and so ruins the country; as_ experience has shewn, _in every colony where it has been practised in any great degree_."--this opinion, of its ruining the country, seems to be merely speculative, or not otherwise founded than upon misinformation in the matter of fact. the truth is, that the balance of their trade with britain being greatly against them, the gold and silver are drawn out to pay that balance; and then the necessity of some medium of trade has induced the making of paper-money, which could _not_ be carried away. thus, if carrying out all the gold and silver ruins a country, every colony was ruined before it made paper-money.--but, far from being ruined by it, the colonies that have made use of paper-money have been, and are all, in a thriving condition. the debt indeed to britain has increased, because their numbers, and of course their trade, have increased; for all trade having always a proportion of debt outstanding, which is paid in its turn, while fresh debt is contracted, the proportion of debt naturally increases as the trade increases; but the improvement and increase of estates in the colonies have been in a greater proportion than their debt. new england, particularly in (about the time they began the use of paper-money) had in all its four provinces but churches or congregations; in they were . the number of farms and buildings there is increased in proportion to the numbers of people; and the goods exported to them from england in , before the restraint took place, were near five times as much as before they had paper-money. pensylvania, before it made any paper-money, was totally stript of its gold and silver; though they had from time to time, like the neighbouring colonies, agreed to take gold and silver coins at higher nominal values, in hopes of drawing money into, and retaining it, for the internal uses of the province. during that weak practice, silver got up by degrees to s. d. per ounce, and english crowns were called six, seven, and eight-shilling pieces, long before paper-money was made. but this practice of increasing the denomination was found not to answer the end. the balance of trade carried out the gold and silver as fast as they were brought in; the merchants raising the price of their goods in proportion to the increased denomination of the money. the difficulties for want of cash were accordingly very great, the chief part of the trade being carried on by the extremely inconvenient method of barter; when in paper-money was first made there; which gave new life to business, promoted greatly the settlement of new lands (by lending small sums to beginners on easy interest, to be repaid by instalments) whereby the province has so greatly increased in inhabitants, that the export from hence thither is now more than tenfold what it then was; and by their trade with foreign colonies, they have been able to obtain great quantities of gold and silver to remit hither in return for the manufactures of this country. new york and new jersey have also increased greatly during the same period, with the use of paper-money; so that it does not appear to be of the ruinous nature ascribed to it. and if the inhabitants of those countries are glad to have the use of paper among themselves, that they may thereby be enabled to spare, for remittances hither, the gold and silver they obtain by their commerce with foreigners; one would expect, that no objection against their parting with it could arise here, in the country that receives it. the d reason is, "_that the_ merchants _trading to america have_ suffered _and lost by the paper-money_."--this may have been the case in particular instances, at particular times and places: as in south carolina, about years since; when the colony was thought in danger of being destroyed by the indians and spaniards; and the british merchants, in fear of losing their whole effects there, called precipitately for remittances; and the inhabitants, to get something lodged in safe countries, gave any price in paper-money for bills of exchange; whereby the paper, as compared with bills, or with produce, or other effects fit for exportation, was suddenly and greatly depreciated. the unsettled state of government for a long time in that province had also its share in depreciating its bills. but since that danger blew over, and the colony has been in the hands of the crown; their currency became fixed, and has so remained to this day. also in new england, when much greater quantities were issued than were necessary for a medium of trade, to defray the expedition against louisbourg; and, during the last war in virginia and north carolina, when great sums were issued to pay the colony troops, and the war made tobacco a poorer remittance, from the higher price of freight and insurance: in these cases, the merchants trading to those colonies may sometimes have suffered by the sudden and unforeseen rise of exchange. by slow and gradual rises, they seldom suffer; the goods being sold at proportionable prices. but war is a common calamity in all countries, and the merchants that deal with them cannot expect to avoid a share of the losses it sometimes occasions, by affecting public credit. it is hoped, however, that the profits of their subsequent commerce with those colonies may have made them some reparation. and the merchants trading to the middle colonies (new york, new jersey, and pensylvania) have never suffered by any rise of exchange; it having ever been a constant rule there, to consider british debts as payable in britain, and not to be discharged but by as much paper (whatever might be the rate of exchange) as would purchase a bill for the full sterling sum. on the contrary, the merchants have been great gainers by the use of paper-money in those colonies; as it enabled them to send much greater quantities of goods, and the purchasers to pay more punctually for them. and the people there make no complaint of any injury done them by paper-money, with a legal tender; they are sensible of its benefits; and petition to have it so allowed. the d reason is, "_that the_ restriction _has had a_ beneficial effect _in new england_." particular circumstances in the new england colonies made paper-money less necessary and less convenient to them. they have great and valuable fisheries of whale and cod, by which large remittances can be made. they are four distinct governments; but having much mutual intercourse of dealings, the money of each used to pass current in all: but the whole of this common currency not being under one common direction, was not so easily kept within due bounds; the prudent reserve of one colony in its emissions being rendered useless by excess in another. the massachusets, therefore, were not dissatisfied with the restraint, as it restrained their neighbours as well as themselves; and perhaps _they_ do not desire to have the act repealed. they have not yet felt much inconvenience from it; as they were enabled to abolish their paper-currency, by a large sum in silver from britain to reimburse their expences in taking louisbourg, which, with the gold brought from portugal, by means of their fish, kept them supplied with a currency; till the late war furnished them and all america with bills of exchange; so that little cash was needed for remittance. their fisheries too furnish them with remittance through spain and portugal to england; which enables them the more easily to retain gold and silver in their country. the middle colonies have not this advantage; nor have they tobacco; which in virginia and maryland answers the same purpose. when colonies are so different in their circumstances, a regulation, that is not inconvenient to one or a few, may be very much so to the rest. but the pay is now become so indifferent in new england, at least in some of its provinces, through the want of currency, that the trade thither is at present under great discouragement. the th reason is, "_that every_ medium of trade _should have an_ intrinsic value; _which paper-money has not_. _gold and silver are therefore the fittest for this medium, as they are an equivalent; which paper never can be."_ however fit a particular thing may be for a particular purpose; wherever that thing is not to be had, or not to be had in sufficient quantity; it becomes necessary to use something else, the fittest that can be got, in lieu of it. gold and silver are not the produce of north america, which has no mines; and that which is brought thither cannot be kept there in sufficient quantity for a currency. britain, an independent great state, when its inhabitants grow too fond of the expensive luxuries of foreign countries, that draw away its money, can, and frequently does, make laws to discourage or prohibit such importations; and by that means can retain its cash. the _colonies_ are dependent governments; and their people having naturally great respect for the sovereign country, and being thence immoderately fond of its modes, manufactures, and superfluities, cannot be restrained from purchasing them by any province law; because such law, if made, would immediately be repealed here, as prejudicial to the trade and interest of britain. it seems hard therefore, to draw all, their real money from them, and then refuse them the poor privilege of using paper instead of it. bank bills and bankers notes are daily used _here_ as a medium of trade, and in large dealings perhaps the greater part is transacted by their means; and yet _they_ have no intrinsic value, but rest on the credit of those that issue them; as paper-bills in the colonies do on the credit of the respective governments there. their being payable in cash upon sight by the drawer is indeed a circumstance that cannot attend the colony bills; for the reasons just above-mentioned; their cash being drawn from them by the british trade; but the legal tender being substituted in its place is rather a greater advantage to the possessor; since he need not be at the trouble of going to a _particular bank_ or banker to demand the money, finding (wherever he has occasion to lay out money in the province) a person that is obliged to take the bills. so that even out of the province, the knowledge, that every man within that province is obliged to take its money, gives the bills a credit among its neighbours, nearly equal to what they have at home. and were it not for the laws _here_, that restrain or prohibit as much as possible all losing trades, the cash of _this_ country would soon be exported: every merchant, who had occasion to remit it, would run to the bank with all its bills, that came into his hands, and take out his part of its treasure for that purpose; so that in a short time, it would be no more able to pay bills in money upon sight, than it is now in the power of a colony treasury so to do. and if government afterwards should have occasion for the credit of the bank, it must of necessity make its bills a legal tender; funding them however on taxes by which they may in time be paid off; as has been the general practice in the colonies.--at this very time, even the silver-money in england is obliged to the legal tender for part of its value; that part which is the difference between its real weight and its denomination. great part of the shillings and sixpences now current are, by wearing, become five, ten, twenty, and some of the sixpences even fifty per cent. too light. for this difference between the _real_ and the _nominal_, you have no _intrinsic_ value; you have not so much as paper, you have nothing. it is the legal tender, with the knowledge that it can easily be repassed for the same value, that makes three-pennyworth of silver pass for sixpence. gold and silver have undoubtedly _some_ properties that give them a fitness above paper, as a medium of exchange; particularly their _universal estimation_; especially in cases where a country has occasion to carry its money abroad, either as a stock to trade with, or to purchase _allies_ and _foreign succours_. otherwise, that very universal estimation is an inconvenience, which paper-money is free from; since it tends to deprive a country of even the quantity of currency that should be retained as a necessary instrument of its internal commerce, and obliges it to be continually on its guard in making and executing, at a great expence, the laws that are to prevent the trade which exports it. paper-money well funded has another great advantage over gold and silver; its lightness of carriage, and the little room that is occupied by a great sum; whereby it is capable of being more easily, and more safely, because more privately, conveyed from place to place. gold and silver are not _intrinsically_ of equal value with iron, a metal in itself capable of many more beneficial uses to mankind. their value rests chiefly in the estimation they happen to be in among the generality of nations, and the credit given to the opinion, that that estimation will continue. otherwise a pound of gold would not be a real equivalent for even a bushel of wheat. any other well-founded credit, is as much an equivalent as gold and silver; and in some cases more so, or it would not be preferred by commercial people in different countries. not to mention again our own bank bills; holland, which understands the value of cash as well as any people in the world, would never part with gold and silver for credit (as they do when they put it into their bank, from whence little of it is ever afterwards drawn out) if they did not think and find the credit a full equivalent. the th reason is, "_that_ debtors _in the assemblies make paper-money_ with fraudulent views." this is often said by the adversaries of paper-money, and if it has been the case in any particular colony, that colony should, on proof of the fact, be duly punished. this, however, would be no reason for punishing other colonies, who have _not_ so abused their legislative powers. to deprive all the colonies of the convenience of paper-money, because it has been charged on some of them, that they have made it an instrument of fraud, is as if all the india, bank, and other stocks and trading companies were to be abolished, because there have been, once in an age, mississippi and south-sea schemes and bubbles. the th and last reason is, "_that in the middle colonies, where the paper-money has been best supported, the bills have_ never kept to their nominal value _in circulation; but have constantly depreciated to a certain degree, whenever the quantity has been increased_." if the rising of the value of any particular commodity wanted for exportation, is to be considered as a depreciation of the values of _whatever remains_ in the country; then the rising of silver above paper to that height of additional value, which its capability of exportation only gave it, may be called a depreciation of the paper. even here, as bullion has been wanted or not wanted for exportation, its price has varied from _s._ _d._ to _s._ _d._ per ounce. this is near per cent. but was it ever said or thought on such an occasion, that all the bank bills, and all the coined silver, and all the gold in the kingdom, were depreciated per cent? coined silver is now wanted here for change, and per cent is given for it by some bankers: are gold and bank notes therefore depreciated per cent.? the fact in the middle colonies is really this: on the emission of the first paper-money, a difference soon arose between that and silver; the latter having a property the former had not, a property always in demand in the colonies; to wit, its being fit for a remittance. this property having soon found its value, by the merchants bidding on one another for it, and a dollar thereby coming to be rated at _s._ in paper-money of new york, and _s._ _d._ in paper of pensylvania, it has continued uniformly at those rates in both provinces now near forty years, without any variation upon new emissions; though, in pensylvania, the paper-currency has at times increased from , _l._ the first sum, to , _l._ or near it. nor has any alteration been occasioned by the paper-money, in the price of the necessaries of life, when compared with silver: they have been for the greatest part of the time no higher than before it was emitted; varying only by plenty and scarcity, or by a less or greater foreign demand. it has indeed been usual with the adversaries of a paper-currency, to call every rise of exchange with london, a depreciation of the paper: but this notion appears to be by no means just: for if the paper purchases every thing but bills of exchange, at the former rate, and these bills are not above one-tenth of what is employed in purchases; then it may be more properly and truly said, that the exchange has risen, than that the paper has depreciated. and as a proof of this, it is a certain fact, that whenever in those colonies bills of exchange have been dearer, the purchaser has been constantly obliged to give more in silver, as well as in paper, for them; the silver having gone hand in hand with the paper at the rate above-mentioned; and therefore it might as well have been said, that the silver was depreciated. there have been several different schemes for furnishing the colonies with paper-money, that should _not_ be a legal tender, viz. . _to form a bank, in imitation of the bank of england, with a sufficient stock of cash_ to pay the bills on sight. this has been often proposed, but appears impracticable, under the present circumstances of the colony-trade; which, as is said above, draws all the cash to britain, and would soon strip the bank. . _to raise a fund by some yearly tax, securely lodged in the bank of england as it arises, which should_ (during the term of years _for which the paper-bills are to be current_) _accumulate to a sum sufficient to discharge them all at their_ original value. this has been tried in maryland: and the bills so funded were issued without being made a general legal tender. the event was, that as notes payable in time are naturally subject to a discount proportioned to the time: so these bills fell at the beginning of the term so low, as that twenty pounds of them became worth no more than twelve pounds in pensylvania, the next neighbouring province; though both had been struck near the same time at the same nominal value, but the latter was supported by the general legal tender. the maryland bills however began to rise as the term shortened, and towards the end recovered their full value. but, as a depreciating currency injures creditors, _this_ injured debtors; and by its continually changing value, appears unfit for the purpose of money, which should be as fixed as possible in its own value; because it is to be the measure of the value of other things. . _to make the bills_ carry an interest _sufficient to support their value_. this too has been tried in some of the new england colonies; but great inconveniencies were found to attend it. the bills, to fit them for a currency, are made of various denominations, and some very low, for the sake of change; there are of them from _l._ down to _d._ when they first come abroad, they pass easily, and answer the purpose well enough for a few months; but as soon as the interest becomes worth computing, the calculation of it on every little bill in a sum between the dealer and his customers, in shops, warehouses and markets, takes up much time, to the great hindrance of business. this evil, however, soon gave place to a worse; for the bills were in a short time gathered up and hoarded; it being a very tempting advantage to have money bearing interest, and the principal all the while in a man's power, ready for bargains that may offer; which money out on mortgage is not. by this means numbers of people became usurers with small sums, who could not have found persons to take such sums of them upon interest, giving good security; and would therefore not have thought of it; but would rather have employed the money in some business, if it had been money of the common kind. thus trade, instead of being increased by such bills, is diminished; and by their being shut up in chests, the very end of making them (viz. to furnish a medium of commerce) is in a great measure, if not totally defeated. on the whole, no method has hitherto been formed to establish a medium of trade, in lieu of money, equal in all its advantages, to bills of credit--funded on sufficient taxes for discharging it, or on land-security of double the value for repaying it at the end of the term; and in the mean time, made a general legal tender. the experience of now near half a century in the middle colonies has convinced them of it among themselves; by the great increase of their settlements, numbers, buildings, improvements, agriculture, shipping, and commerce. and the same experience has satisfied the british merchants, who trade thither, that it has been greatly useful to them, and not in a single instance prejudicial. it is therefore hoped, that securing the full discharge of british debts, which are payable here, and in all justice and reason ought to be fully discharged here in sterling money; the restraint on the legal tender within the colonies will be taken off; at least for those colonies that desire it, and where the merchants trading to them make no objection to it[ ]. footnotes: [ ] the best account i can give of the occasion of the report, to which this paper is a reply, is as follows. during the war there had been a considerable and unusual trade to america, in consequence of the great fleets and armies on foot there, and the clandestine dealings with the enemy, who were cut off from their own supplies. this made great debts. the briskness of the trade ceasing with the war, the merchants were anxious for payment, which occasioned some confusion in the colonies, and stirred up a clamour here against paper-money. the board of trade, of which lord hilsborough was the chief, joined in this opposition to paper-money, as appears by the report. dr. franklin being asked to draw up an answer to their report, wrote the paper given above. b. v. [ ] i understand that dr. franklin is the friend who assisted governor pownall in drawing up a plan for a general paper-currency for america, to be established by the british government. see governor pownall's administration of the colonies, th edition, p. , and . b. v. _to the freemen of pensylvania, on the subject of a particular militia-bill, rejected by the proprietor's deputy or governor._ _philadelphia, sept. , ._ gentlemen, your desire of knowing how the militia-bill came to fail in the last assembly shall immediately be complied with. as the governor pressed hard for a militia-law to secure the internal peace of the province, and the people of this country had not been accustomed to militia service; the house, to make it more generally agreeable to the freeholders, formed the bill so as that they might have some share in the election of the officers; to secure them from having absolute strangers set over them, or persons generally disagreeable. this was no more, than that every company should choose, and recommend to the governor, three persons for each office of captain, lieutenant, and ensign; _out of which three_, the governor was to commission _one_, that he thought most proper, or which he pleased, to be the officer. and that the captains, lieutenants, and ensigns, so commissioned by the governor, should, in their respective regiments, choose and recommend three persons for each office of colonel, lieutenant-colonel, and major; out of which three the governor was to commission _one_, whichever he pleased, to each of the said offices. the governor's amendment to the bill in this particular was, to strike out wholly this privilege of the people, and take to himself the _sole_ appointment of all the officers. the next amendment was to aggravate and _enhance all the fines_. a fine, that the assembly had made one hundred pounds, and thought heavy enough, the governor required to be three hundred pounds. what they had made fifty pounds, he required to be one hundred and fifty. these were fines on the commissioned officers for disobedience to his commands; but the non-commissioned officers, or common soldiers, whom, for the same offence, the assembly proposed to fine at ten pounds, the governor insisted should be fined fifty pounds. these fines, and some others to be mentioned hereafter, the assembly thought ruinously high: but when, in a subsequent amendment, the governor would, for offences among the militia, take away the _trial by jury_ in the common courts; and required, that the trial should be by a court-martial, composed of officers of his own sole appointing, who should have power of sentencing even to death; the house could by no means consent thus to give up their constituents' liberty, estate, and life itself, into the absolute power of a proprietary governor; and so the bill failed. that you may be assured i do not misrepresent this matter, i shall give you the last-mentioned amendment (so called) at full length; and for the truth and exactness of my copy i dare appeal to mr. secretary shippen. the words of the bill, p. , were, "every such person, so offending, being legally convicted thereof, &c." by the words _legally convicted_, was intended a conviction after legal trial, in the common course of the laws of the land. but the governor required this addition immediately to follow the words ["convicted thereof"] viz. 'by a court-martial, shall suffer death, or such other punishment as such court, by their sentence or decree, shall think proper to inflict and pronounce. and be it farther enacted by the authority aforesaid, that when and so often as it may be necessary, the governor and commander in chief for the time being shall appoint and commissionate, under the great seal of this province, sixteen commissioned officers in each regiment; with authority and power to them, or any thirteen of them, to hold courts-martial, of whom a field-officer shall always be one, and president of the said court; and such courts-martial shall, and are hereby impowered to administer an oath to any witness, in order to the examination or trial of any of the offences which by this act are made cognizable in such courts, and shall come before them. provided always, that in all trials by a court-martial by virtue of this act, every officer present at such trial, before any proceedings be had therein, shall take an _oath_ upon the holy evangelists, before one justice of the peace in the county where such court is held, who are hereby authorized to administer the same, in the following words, that is to say, "i a. b. do swear, that i will duly administer justice according to evidence, and to the directions of an act, entitled, an act for forming and regulating the militia of the province of pensylvania, without partiality, favour, or affection; and that i will not divulge the sentence of the court, until it shall be approved of by the governor or commander in chief of this province for the time being; neither will i, upon any account, at any time whatsoever, disclose or _discover the vote or opinion_ of any particular member of the court-martial. so help me god."--and no sentence of death, or other sentence shall be given against any offender but by the concurrence of nine of the officers so sworn. and no sentence, passed against any offender by such court-martial, shall be put in execution, until report be made of the whole proceedings to the governor or commander in chief of this province for the time being, and his directions signified thereupon.' it is observable here, that by the common course of justice, a man is to be tried by a jury of his neighbours and fellows; impannelled by a sheriff, in whose appointment the people have a choice: the prisoner too has a right to challenge twenty of the pannel, without giving a reason, and as many more as he can give reasons for challenging; and before he can be convicted, the jury are to be unanimous; they are all to agree that he is guilty, and are therefore all accountable for their verdict. but by this amendment, the jury (if they may be so called) are all officers of the governor's sole appointing, and not one of them can be challenged; and though a common militia-man is to be tried, no common militia-man shall be of that jury; and so far from requiring all to agree, a bare majority shall be sufficient to condemn you. and lest that majority should be under any check or restraint, from an apprehension of what the world might think or say of the severity or injustice of their sentence, an oath is to be taken, never to discover the vote or opinion of any particular member! these are some of the chains attempted to be forged for you by the proprietary faction! who advised the g----r is not difficult to know. they are the very men, who now clamour at the assembly for a proposal of bringing the trial of a particular murder to this county, from another, where it was not thought safe for any man to be either juryman or witness; and call it disfranchising the people! who are now bawling about the constitution, and pretending vast concern for your liberties! in refusing you the least means of recommending or expressing your regard for persons to be placed over you as officers, and who were thus to be made your judges in life and estate; they have not regarded the example of the king, our wise, as well as kind master, who, in all his requisitions made to the colonies, of raising troops for their defence, directed, that "the better to facilitate the important service, the commissions should be given to such as from their weight and credit with the people may be best enabled to effectuate the levies[ ]." in establishing a militia for the defence of the province, how could the "weight and credit" of men with the people be better discovered, than by the mode that bill directed; viz. by a majority of those that were to be commanded nominating three for each office to the governor, of which three he might take the one he liked best? however, the courts-martial being established, and all of us thus put into his honour's absolute power, the governor goes on to enhance the fines and penalties; thus, in page of the bill, where the assembly had proposed the fine to be ten shillings, the governor required it to be ten pounds: in page , where a fine of five pounds was mentioned, the governor's amendment required it to be made fifty pounds. and in page , where the assembly had said, "shall forfeit and pay any sum not exceeding five pounds," the governor's amendment says, "shall suffer death, or such other punishment, as shall, according to the nature of the offence, be inflicted by the sentence of a court-martial!" the assembly's refusing to admit of these amendments in that bill is one of their offences against the lord proprietary; for which that faction are now abusing them in both the languages[ ] of the province, with all the virulence that reverend malice can dictate; enforced by numberless barefaced falshoods, that only the most dishonest and base would dare to invent, and none but the most weak and credulous can possibly believe. veritas. footnotes: [ ] see secretary of state's letters in the printed votes. [ ] it is hardly necessary to mention here, that pensylvania was settled by a mixture of german and english. b. v. _preface by a member of the pensylvanian assembly (dr. franklin) to the speech of joseph galloway, esq. one of the members for philadelphia county; in answer to the speech of john dickinson, esq.; delivered in the house of the assembly of the province of pensylvania, may , , on occasion of a petition drawn up by order, and then under the consideration of the house, praying his majesty for a royal, in lieu of a proprietary, government_[ ]. it is not merely because mr. dickinson's speech was ushered into the world by a preface, that one is made to this of mr. galloway. but as, in that preface, a number of aspersions were thrown on our assemblies, and their proceedings grossly misrepresented, it was thought necessary to wipe those aspersions off by some proper animadversions, and by a true state of facts, to rectify those misrepresentations. the preface begins with saying, "that governor denny (whose administration will never be mentioned but with disgrace in the annals of this province) was induced, by considerations to which the world is now no stranger, to pass sundry acts," &c. thus insinuating, that by some unusual base bargain, secretly made, but afterwards discovered, he was induced to pass them. it is fit therefore, without undertaking to justify all that governor's administration, to show _what_ those considerations were. ever since the revenue of the quit-rents first, and after that, the revenue of tavern-licences, were settled irrevocably on our proprietors and governors, they have looked on those incomes as their proper estate, for which they were under no obligations to the people: and when they afterwards concurred in passing any useful laws, they considered them as so many jobs, for which they ought to be particularly paid. hence arose the custom of _presents_ twice a year to the governors, at the close of each session in which laws were passed, given at the time of passing: they usually amounted to a thousand pounds per annum. but when the governors and assemblies disagreed, so that laws were not passed, the presents were withheld. when a disposition to agree ensued, there sometimes still remained some _diffidence_. the governors would not pass the laws that were wanted, without being sure of the money, even all that they called their arrears; nor the assemblies give the money, without being sure of the laws. thence the necessity of some private conference, in which mutual assurances of good faith might be received and given, that the transactions should go hand in hand. what name the impartial reader will give to this kind of commerce, i cannot say: to me it appears an extortion of more money from the people, for that to which they had before an undoubted right, both by the constitution and by purchase; but there was no other shop they could go to for the commodity they wanted, and they were obliged to comply. time established the custom, and made it seem honest; so that our governors, even those of the most undoubted honour, have practised it. governor thomas, after a long misunderstanding with the assembly, went more openly to work with them in managing this commerce, and they with him. the fact is curious, as it stands recorded in the votes of - . sundry bills, sent up to the governor for his assent, had lain long in his hands, without any answer. jan. , the house "ordered, that thomas leech and edward warner wait upon the governor, and acquaint him, that the house had long waited for his result on the bills that lie before him, and desire to know, when they may expect it:" the gentlemen return, and report, "that they waited upon the governor, and delivered the message of the house according to order; and that the governor was pleased to say, he had had the bills long under consideration, and _waited the result_ of the _house_." the house well understood this hint; and immediately resolved into a committee of the whole house, to take what was called _the governor's support_ into consideration; in which they made (the minutes say) _some progress_; and the next morning it appears, that that _progress_, whatever it was, had been communicated to him; for he sent them down this message by his secretary: "mr. speaker, the governor commands me to acquaint you, that as he has received assurances of a _good disposition_ in the house, he thinks it incumbent on him to show _the like_ on his part; and therefore sends down the bills which lay before him, without any amendment." as this message only showed a good disposition, but contained no promise to pass the bills, the house seem to have had their doubts; and therefore, february , when they came to resolve, on the report of the grand committee, to give the money, they guarded their resolves very cautiously, viz. "resolved, that _on the passage_ of such bills as now lie before the governor, (the naturalization bill, and such other bills as may be presented to him during this sitting) there be paid him the sum of _five hundred pounds_. resolved also, that on the passage of such bills as now lie before the governor (the naturalization bill, and such other bills as may be presented to him this sitting) there be paid to the governor the _further_ sum of _one thousand pounds_, for the current year's support; and that orders be drawn on the treasurer and trustees of the loan-office, pursuant to these resolves." the orders were accordingly drawn; with which being acquainted, he appointed a time to pass the bills; which was done with one hand, while he received the orders in the other: and then with the utmost politeness [he] thanked the house for the fifteen hundred pounds, as if it had been a pure free gift, and a mere mark of their respect and affection. "i _thank you_, gentlemen (says he) for this instance of _your regard_; which i am the more pleased with, as it gives an agreeable prospect of _future harmony_ between me and the representatives of the people." this, reader, is an exact _counterpart_ of the transaction with governor denny; except that denny sent word to the house, that he would pass the bills _before_ they voted the support. and yet _here_ was no proprietary clamour about bribery, &c. and why so? why at that time the proprietary family, by virtue of a _secret bond_ they had obtained of the governor at his appointment, were to _share with_ him the sums so obtained of the people! this reservation of the proprietaries they were at that time a little ashamed of; and therefore such bonds were then to be secrets. but as, in every kind of sinning, frequent repetition lessens shame, and increases boldness, we find the proprietaries ten years afterwards openly insisting on these advantages to themselves, _over and above_ what was paid to their deputy: "wherefore (say they) on this occasion it is necessary that we should inform the people, through yourselves their representatives, that as by the constitution _our consent is necessary_ to their _laws_, at the same time that they have an _undoubted right_ to such as are necessary for the defence and real service of the country; so it will tend the better to facilitate the several matters which must be transacted with us, for their representatives to show a regard _to us_ and our _interest_." this was in their answer to the representation of the assembly [votes, december, , p. .] on the justice of their contributing to indian expences, which they had refused. and on this clause the committee make the following remark: "they tell us their consent is necessary to our laws, and that it will tend the better to facilitate the matters which must be transacted with them, for the representatives to show a regard to their _interest_: that is (as we understand it) though the proprietaries have a deputy here, supported by the province, who is, or ought to be, fully impowered to pass all laws necessary for the service of the country; yet, before we can obtain such laws, we must facilitate their passage by paying money for the proprietaries, which they ought to pay; or in some shape make it their particular _interest_ to pass them. we hope, however, that if this practice has ever been begun, it will never be continued in this province; and that since, as this very paragraph allows, we have an undoubted right to such laws, we shall always be able to obtain them from the goodness of our sovereign, without going to market for them to a subject." time has shown, that those hopes were vain; they have been obliged to go to that market ever since, directly or indirectly, or go without their laws. the practice has continued, and will continue, as long as the proprietary government subsists, intervening between the crown and the people. do not, my courteous reader, take pet at our proprietary constitution, for these our bargain and sale proceedings in legislation. it is a happy country where justice, and what was your own before, can be had for ready money. it is another addition to the value of money, and of course another spur to industry. every land is not so blessed. there are countries where the princely proprietor claims to be lord of all property; where what is your own shall not only be wrested from you, but the money you give to have it restored shall be kept with it; and your offering so much, being a sign of your being too rich, you shall be plundered of every thing that remained. these times are not come here yet: your present proprietors have never been more unreasonable hitherto, than barely to insist on your fighting in defence of _their_ property, and paying the expence yourselves; or if their estates must [ah! _must_] be taxed towards it, that the _best_ of their lands shall be taxed no higher than the _worst_ of yours. pardon this digression, and i return to governor denny; but first let me do governor hamilton the justice to observe, that whether from the uprightness of his own disposition, or from the odious light the practice had been set in on denny's account, or from both; he did not attempt these bargains, but passed such laws as he thought fit to pass, without any _previous_ stipulation of pay for them. but then, when he saw the assembly tardy in the payment he expected, and yet calling upon him still to pass more laws; he openly put them in mind of the money, as a _debt_ due to him from custom. "in the course of the present year (says he, in his message of july , ) a great deal of public business hath been transacted by me, and i believe as many useful laws enacted, as by any of my predecessors in the same space of time: yet i have not understood that any allowance hath hitherto been made to me for my support, as hath been customary in this province." the house having then some bills in hand, took the matter into immediate consideration, and voted him five hundred pounds, for which an order or certificate was accordingly drawn: and on the same day the speaker, after the house had been with the governor, reported, "that his honour had been pleased to give his assent to the bills, by enacting the same into laws. and mr. speaker farther reported, that he had then, in behalf of the house, presented their certificate of five hundred pounds to the governor, who was pleased to say, he was obliged to the house for the same." thus we see the practice of purchasing and paying for laws is interwoven with our proprietary constitution, used in the best times, and under the best governors. and yet, alas! poor assembly! how will you steer your brittle bark between these rocks? if you pay _ready money_ for your laws, and those laws are not liked by the proprietaries, you are charged with bribery and corruption: if you wait a while before you pay, you are accused of detaining the governor's customary right, and dunned as a negligent or dishonest debtor, that refuses to discharge a just debt! but governor denny's case, i shall be told, differs from all these; for the acts he was induced to pass were, as the prefacer tell us, "_contrary to his duty, and to every tie of honour and justice_." such is the imperfection of our language, and perhaps of all other languages, that, notwithstanding we are furnished with dictionaries innumerable, we cannot precisely know the import of words, unless we know of what party the man is that uses them. in the mouth of an assembly-man, or true pensylvanian, "contrary to his duty and to every tie of honour and justice" would mean, the governor's long refusal to pass laws, however just and necessary, for taxing the proprietary estate: a refusal, contrary to the trust reposed in the lieutenant-governor by the royal charter, to the rights of the people, whose welfare it was his duty to promote, and to the nature of the contract made between the governor and the governed, when the quit-rents and licence-fees were established, which confirmed what the proprietaries call our "undoubted right" to necessary laws. but in the mouth of the proprietaries, or their creatures, "contrary to his duty, and to every tie of justice and honour" means, his passing laws contrary to proprietary instructions, and contrary to the bonds he had previously given to observe those instructions: instructions however, that were unjust and unconstitutional; and bonds, that were illegal and void from the beginning. much has been said of the wickedness of governor denny in passing, and of the assembly in prevailing with him to pass, those acts. by the prefacer's account of them, you would think the laws, so obtained, were _all_ bad; for he speaks of but _seven_, of which, six, he says, were repealed, and the seventh reported to be "fundamentally _wrong_ and _unjust_," "and ought to be repealed, _unless_ six certain amendments were made therein[ ]." whereas in fact there were _nineteen_ of them, and several of those must have been good laws, for even the proprietaries did not object to them. of the eleven that they opposed, only six were repealed; so that it seems, these good gentlemen may themselves be sometimes as wrong in opposing, as the assembly in enacting laws. but the words, "fundamentally _wrong_ and _unjust_," are the great fund of triumph to the proprietaries and their partizans. these, their subsequent governors have unmercifully dinned in the ears of the assembly on all occasions ever since; for they make a part of near a dozen of their messages. they have rung the changes on those words, till they worked them up to say, that the law was fundamentally wrong and unjust in _six several articles_ (governor's message, may , ) instead of "ought to be repealed, _unless_ six alterations or amendments could be made therein." a law, unjust in six several articles, must be an unjust law indeed. let us therefore, once for all, _examine_ this unjust law, article by article, in order to see, whether our assemblies have been such villains as they have been represented. the _first_ particular in which their lordships proposed the act should be amended was, "that the real estates to be taxed, be _defined with precision_; so as not to include the unsurveyed waste land belonging to the proprietaries." this was at most but an _obscurity_ to be cleared up. and though the law might well appear to their lordships uncertain in that particular, with us, who better know our own customs, and that the proprietaries waste unsurveyed land was never here considered among estates real, subject to taxation; there was not the least doubt or supposition, that such lands were included in the words "all estates, real and personal." the agents therefore, knowing that the assembly had no intention to tax those lands, might well suppose they would readily agree to remove the obscurity. before we go farther, let it be observed, that the main design of the proprietaries in opposing this act was, to _prevent their estates being taxed at all_. but as they knew, that the doctrine of proprietary exemption, which they had endeavoured to enforce here, could not be supported there[ ], they bent their whole strength against the act on _other_ principles to procure its repeal, pretending great willingness to submit to an equitable tax; but that the assembly (out of mere malice, because they had conscientiously quitted quakerism for the church!) were wickedly determined to ruin them, to tax all their unsurveyed wilderness-lands, and at the highest rates: and by that means exempt themselves and the people, and throw the whole burden of the war on the proprietary family. how foreign these charges were from the truth, need not be told to any man in pensylvania. and as the proprietors knew, that the hundred thousand pounds of paper-money, struck for the defence of _their_ enormous estates, with others, was actually issued, spread through the country, and in the hands of thousands of poor people, who had given their labour for it; how base, cruel, and inhuman it was to endeavour, by a repeal of the act, to strike the money dead in those hands at one blow, and reduce it all to waste paper, to the utter confusion of all trade and dealings, and the ruin of multitudes, merely to avoid paying their own just tax--words may be wanting to express,--but minds will easily conceive,--and never without abhorrence! the _second_ amendment proposed by their lordships was, "that the located uncultivated lands, belonging to the proprietaries, shall not be assessed higher than the _lowest_ rate, at which any located uncultivated lands belonging to the inhabitants shall be assessed." had there been any provision in the act, that the proprietaries' lands, and those of the people, of the same value, should be taxed differently, the one high, and the other low; the act might well have been called in this particular fundamentally wrong and unjust. but as there is no such clause, this cannot be one of the particulars on which the charge is founded; but, like the first, is merely a requisition to make the act _clear_, by express directions therein, that the proprietaries' estate should not be, as they pretended to believe it would be, taxed higher in proportion to its value than the estates of others. as to their present claim, founded on that article, "that the best and most valuable of their lands, should be taxed no higher than the worst and least valuable of the people's," it was not _then_ thought of; they made no such demand; nor did any one dream that so iniquitous a claim would ever be made by men, who had the least pretence to the characters of honourable and honest. the _third_ particular was, "that all lands, _not granted_ by the proprietaries _within boroughs and towns_, be deemed located uncultivated lands, and rated accordingly; and not as lots." the clause in the act that this relates to is, "and whereas many valuable lots of ground within the city of philadelphia, and the several boroughs and towns within this province, remain unimproved; be it enacted, &c. that _all_ such unimproved lots of ground within the city and boroughs aforesaid, shall be rated and assessed according to their situation and value for, and towards raising the money hereby granted." the reader will observe, that the word is, _all_ unimproved lots; and that _all_ comprehends the lots belonging to the people, as well as those of the proprietary. there were many of the former; and a number belonging even to members of the then assembly; and considering the value, the tax must be proportionably as grievous to them, as the proprietary's to him. is there among us a single man, even a proprietary relation, officer, or dependant, so insensible of the differences of right and wrong, and so confused in his notions of just and unjust, as to think and say, that the act in this particular was fundamentally wrong and unjust? i believe not one. what then could their lordships mean by the proposed amendment? their meaning is easily explained. the proprietaries have considerable tracts of land within the bounds of boroughs and towns, that have not yet been divided into lots: they pretended to believe, that by virtue of this clause an imaginary division would be made of _those_ lands into lots, and an extravagant value set on such imaginary lots, greatly to their prejudice. it was answered, that no such thing was intended by the act: and that by lots was meant only such ground as _had_ been surveyed and divided into lots, and not the open undivided lands. if this only is intended, say their lordships, then let the act be amended, so as _clearly_ to express what is intended. this is the full amount of the third particular. how the act was understood here, is well known by the execution of it before the dispute came on in england, and therefore before their lordships' opinion on the point could be given, of which full proof shall presently be made. in the mean time it appears, that the act was not on _this_ account fundamentally wrong and unjust. the _fourth_ particular is, "that the _governor's consent_ and approbation be made necessary to every issue and application of the money, to be raised by virtue of such act." the assembly intended this, and thought they had done it in the act. the words of the clause being, "that [the commissioners named] or the major part of them, or of the survivors of them, _with the consent_ or approbation of the governor or commander in chief of this province for the time being, shall order and appoint _the disposition of the monies_ arising by virtue of this act, for and towards paying and clothing two thousand seven hundred effective men," &c. it was understood here, that as the power of disposing was expressly to be with the consent and approbation of the governor, the commissioners had no power to dispose of the money without that approbation: but their lordships, jealous (as their station requires) of this prerogative of the crown, and being better acquainted with the force and weakness of law expression, did not think the clause explicit enough, unless the words, "_and not otherwise_," were added, or some other words equivalent. this particular, therefore, was no more than another requisition of greater _clearness_ and precision; and by no means a foundation for the charge of fundamentally wrong and unjust. the _fifth_ particular was, "that _provincial_ commissioners be named, to hear and _determine appeals_, brought on the part of the inhabitants, as well as the proprietaries." there was already subsisting a provision for the appointment of _county_ commissioners of appeal; by whom the act might be, and actually has been (as we shall presently show) justly and impartially executed with regard to the proprietaries; but _provincial_ commissioners appointed in the act it was thought might be of use, in regulating and equalizing the modes of assessment of different counties, where they were unequal; and by affording a second appeal, tend more to the satisfaction both of the proprietaries and the people.--this particular was therefore a mere proposed improvement of the act, which could not be, and was not, in this respect, denominated fundamentally wrong and unjust. we have now gone through five of the six proposed amendments, without discovering any thing on which that censure could be founded; but the _sixth_ remains; which points at a part of the act wherein we must candidly acknowledge there is something, that, in their lordships' view of it, must justify their judgment. the words of the _sixth_ article are, "that the payments by the tenants to the proprietaries of their rents, shall be according to the terms of their respective grants, as if such act had never been passed." this relates to that clause of the act by which the _paper-money_ was made a _legal tender_ in "discharge of all manner of debts, rents, sum and sums of money whatsoever, &c. at the rates ascertained in the act of parliament made in the sixth of queen anne." from the great injustice frequently done to creditors, and complained of from the colonies, by the vast depreciation of paper bills, it was become a general fixed principle with the ministry, that such bills (whose value, though fixed in the act, could not be kept fixed by the act) ought _not_ to be made a legal tender in any colony at those rates. the parliament had before passed an act, to take that tender away in the four new england colonies, and have since made the act general. this was what their lordships would therefore have proposed for the amendment. but it being represented, that the chief support of the credit of the bills was the legal tender; and that without it they would become of no value, it was allowed generally to remain; with an exception to the proprietaries' rents, where[ ] there was a special contract for payment in another coin. it cannot be denied but that _this_ was doing justice to the proprietaries; and that, had the requisition been in favour of _all other_ creditors also, the justice had been equal, as being general. we do not therefore presume to impeach their lordships' judgment, that the act, as it enforced the acceptance of bills for money at a value which they had only nominally, and not really, was in that respect fundamentally wrong and unjust. and yet we believe the reader will not think the assembly so much to blame, when he considers, that the making paper-bills a legal tender had been the universal mode in america for more than threescore years; that there was scarce a colony that had not practised that mode more or less; that it had always been thought absolutely necessary, in order to give the bills a credit, and thereby obtain from them the uses of money; that the inconveniences were therefore submitted to, for the sake of the greater conveniences; that acts innumerable of the like kind had been approved by the crown; and that if the assembly made the bills a legal tender at those rates to the proprietaries, they made them also a legal tender to themselves and all their constituents, many of whom might suffer in their rents, &c. as much in proportion to their estates as the proprietaries. but if he cannot, on these considerations, quite excuse the assembly, what will he think of those honourable proprietaries, who, when paper-money was issued in their colony, for the common defence of their vast estates, with those of the people, and who must therefore reap at least equal advantages from those bills with the people, could nevertheless wish to be exempted from their share of the unavoidable disadvantages. is there upon earth a man besides, with any conception of what is honest, with any notion of honour, with the least tincture in his veins of the gentleman, but would have blushed at the thought; but would have rejected with disdain such undue preference, if it had been offered him? much less would he have struggled for it, moved heaven and earth to obtain it, resolved to ruin thousands of his tenants by a repeal of the act, rather than miss of it[ ]; and enforce it afterwards by an audaciously wicked instruction; forbidding aids to his king, and exposing the province to destruction, unless it was complied with. and yet,--these are _honourable_ men[ ]. here then we have a full view of the assembly's injustice; about which there has been so much insolent triumph! but let the proprietaries and their discreet deputies hereafter recollect and remember, that the same august tribunal, which censured some of the modes and circumstances of that act, did at the same time establish and confirm the grand principle of the act, viz. "that the proprietary estate ought, with other estates, to be taxed:" and thereby did in effect determine and pronounce, that the opposition so long made in various shapes to that just principle, by the proprietaries, was fundamentally _wrong_ and _unjust_. an injustice they were not, like the assembly, under any necessity of committing for the public good, or any other necessity but what was imposed on them by those base passions, that act the tyrant in bad minds; their selfishness, their pride, and their avarice. i have frequently mentioned the _equitable intentions_ of the house in those parts of the act, that were supposed obscure, and how they were understood here. a clear proof thereof is found, as i have already said, in the actual execution of the act; in the execution of it before the contest about it in england; and therefore before their lordships' objections to it had a being. when the report came over, and was laid before the house, one year's tax had been levied: and the assembly, conscious that no injustice had been intended to the proprietaries, and willing to rectify it if any should appear, appointed a _committee_ of members from the several counties to examine into the state of the proprietaries' taxes through the province, and nominated on that committee a gentleman of known attachment to the proprietaries, and their chief justice, mr. allen; to the end that the strictest inquiry might be made. _their report_ was as follows: "we, the committee appointed to inquire into, and consider the state of the proprietary taxation through the several counties, and report the same to the house, have, in pursuance of the said appointment, carefully examined the returns of property, and compared them with the respective assessments thereon made through the whole province; and find, _first_, that no part of the _unsurveyed_ waste lands belonging to the proprietaries have, in any instance, been included in the estates taxed. _secondly_, that some of the _located uncultivated_ lands belonging to the proprietaries in several counties _remain unassessed_; and are not in any county assessed higher, than the lands under like circumstances belonging to the inhabitants. _thirdly_, that all _lands_; _not_ granted by the proprietaries, _within boroughs_ and towns, remain _untaxed_; excepting in a few instances, and in those they are rated as _low_, as the lands which are granted in the said boroughs and towns. the whole of the proprietary tax of eighteen pence in the pound amounts to _l._ _s._ _d._ and the sum of the tax on the inhabitants for the same year amounts, through the several counties, to , _l._ _s._ _d._ and it is the opinion of your committee, that there has not been any injustice done to the proprietaries, or attempts made to rate or assess any part of their estates higher than the estates of the like kind belonging to the inhabitants are rated and assessed; but, on the contrary, we find that their estates are rated, in many instances, below others. thomas leech, george ashbridge, joseph fox, emanuel carpenter, samuel rhoads, john blackburn, abraham chapman, william allen." the house communicated this report to governor hamilton, when he afterwards pressed them to make the stipulated act of amendment; acquainting him at the same time, that as in the execution of the act no injustice _had_ hitherto been done to the proprietary, so, by a yearly inspection of the assessments, they would take care that none _should_ be done him; for that if any should appear, or the governor could at any time point out to them any that had been done, they would immediately rectify it; and therefore, as the act was shortly to expire, they did not think the amendments necessary. thus that matter ended during that administration. and had his successor, governor penn, permitted it still to sleep, we are of opinion it had been more to the honour of the family, and of his own discretion. but he was pleased to found upon it a _claim_ manifestly unjust, and which he was totally destitute of reason to support. a claim, that the proprietaries best and most valuable located uncultivated lands, should be taxed no _higher_ than the worst and least valuable of those belonging to the inhabitants: to enforce which, as he thought the words of one of the stipulations seemed to give some countenance to it, he insisted on using those very words as sacred; from which he could "neither in decency or in duty," deviate; though he had agreed to deviate from words [in] the same report, and therefore equally sacred in every other instance. a conduct which will (as the prefacer says in governor denny's case) for ever disgrace the annals of _his_ administration[ ]. never did any administration open with a more _promising_ prospect [than this of governor penn]. he assured the people, in his first speeches, of the proprietaries' paternal regard for them, and their sincere disposition to do every thing that might promote their happiness. as the proprietaries had been pleased to appoint a son of the family to the government, it was thought not unlikely, that there might be something in these professions; for that they would probably choose to have his administration made easy and agreeable; and to that end might think it prudent to withdraw those harsh, disagreeable, and unjust instructions with which most of his predecessors had been hampered: the assembly therefore believed fully, and rejoiced sincerely. they showed the new governor every mark of respect and regard that was in their power. they readily and cheerfully went into every thing he recommended to them. and when he and his authority were insulted and endangered by a lawless murdering mob, they and their friends took arms at his call, and formed themselves round him for his defence, and the support of his government. but when it was found, that those mischievous instructions still subsisted, and were even farther extended; when the governor began, unprovoked, to send the house affronting messages, seizing every imaginary occasion of reflecting on their conduct; when every other symptom appeared of fixed deep-rooted family malice, which could but a little while bear the unnatural covering that had been thrown over it, what wonder is it, if all the old wounds broke out and bled afresh? if all the old grievances, still unredressed, were recollected; if despair succeeded of [seeing] any peace with a family, that could make such returns to all their overtures of kindness! and when in the very proprietary council, composed of staunch friends of the family, and chosen for their attachment to it, it was observed, that the _old men_ ( kings, chap. xii.) withdrew themselves, finding their opinion slighted, and that all measures were taken by the advice of two or three _young men_ (one of whom too denies his share in them) is it any wonder, since like causes produce like effects, if the assembly, notwithstanding all their veneration for the first proprietor, should say, with the children of israel, under the same circumstances, "what portion have we in david, or inheritance in the son of jesse? to your tents, o israel!" under these circumstances, and a conviction that while so many natural sources of difference subsisted between proprietaries and people, no harmony in government long subsist (without which neither the commands of the crown could be executed, nor the public good promoted) the house resumed the consideration of a measure that had often been proposed in former assemblies; a measure, that every _proprietary province in_ america had, from the same causes, found themselves obliged to take, and had actually taken, or were about to take; and a measure, that had happily succeeded, wherever it was taken; i mean the recourse to an immediate _royal government_. they therefore, after a thorough debate, and making no less than twenty-five unanimous resolves, expressing the many grievances this province had long laboured under, through the proprietary government, came to the following resolution, viz. "resolved, nemine contradicente, that this house will adjourn, in order to _consult their constituents_, whether an humble _address_ should be drawn up and transmitted to _his majesty_; praying that he would be graciously pleased to take the people of this province under his immediate protection and government, by completing the agreement heretofore made with the first proprietary for the sale of the government to the crown, or otherwise as to his wisdom and goodness shall seem meet[ ]." this they ordered to be made public; and it was published accordingly in all the newspapers: the house then adjourned for no less than _seven weeks_, to give their constituents time to consider the matter, and themselves an opportunity of taking their opinion and advice. could any thing be more deliberate, more fair and open, or more respectful to the people that chose them?--during this recess, the people, in many places, held little meetings with each other; the result of which was, that they would manifest their sentiments to their representatives, by petitioning the crown directly of themselves, and requesting the assembly to transmit and support those petitions. at the next meeting many of these petitions were delivered to the house with that request; they were signed by a very great[ ] number of the most substantial inhabitants; and not the least intimation was received by the assembly from any other of their constituents, that the method was _disapproved_; except in a petition from an obscure town-ship in lancaster county, to which there were about forty names indeed, but all evidently signed by three hands only. what could the assembly infer from the expressed willingness of a part, and silence of the rest; but that the measure was universally agreeable! they accordingly resumed the consideration of it; and though a small, very small opposition then appeared to it in the house; yet as even that was founded not on the impropriety of the thing; but on supposed unsuitableness of the time or the manner, and a majority of nine tenths being still for it; a petition was drawn agreeable to the former resolve, and ordered to be transmitted to his majesty. but the preface tells us, that these _petitioners_ for a change were a "number of rash, ignorant, and inconsiderate people," and generally of a _low rank_. to be sure they were not of the proprietary officers, dependents, or expectants; and those are chiefly the people of high rank among us; but they were otherwise generally men of the best estates in the province, and men of reputation. the assembly, who come from all parts of the country, and therefore may be supposed to know them, at least as well as the prefacer, have given that testimony of them. but what is the testimony of the assembly; who in his opinion are equally rash, ignorant, and inconsiderate with the petitioners? and if his judgment is right, how imprudently and contrary to their charter, have his _three hundred thousand souls_ acted in their elections of assembly-men these twenty years past; for the charter requires them to choose men of _most note_ for _virtue_, _wisdom_ and _ability_! but these are qualities engrossed, it seems, by the _proprietary_ party. for they say, "the _wiser_ and _better_ part of the province had far different notions of this measure: they considered, that the moment they put their hands to these petitions they might be surrendering up their birthright." i felicitate them on the _honour_ they have thus bestowed upon themselves; on the _sincere_ compliments thus given and accepted; and on their having with such noble freedom discarded the snivelling pretence to modesty, couched in that threadbare form of words, "though we say it, that should not say it." but is it not surprising, that, during the seven weeks recess of the assembly, expressly to consult their constituents on the expediency of this measure, and during the fourteen days the house sat deliberating on it after they met again, these their wisdoms and betternesses should never be so kind as to communicate the least scrap of their prudence, their knowledge, or their consideration, to their rash, ignorant, and inconsiderate representatives? wisdom in the mind is not like money in the purse, diminished by communication to others: they might have lighted up our farthing candles for us, without lessening the blaze of their own flambeaux. but they suffered our representatives to go on in the dark till the fatal deed was done; and the petition sent to the king, praying him to take the government of this province into his immediate care: whereby, if it succeeds, "our glorious plan of public liberty and charter of privileges is to be bartered away," and we are to be made slaves for ever! cruel parsimony! to refuse the charity of a little understanding, when god had given you so much, and the assembly begged it as an alms! o that you had but for once remembered and observed the counsel of that wise poet pope, where he says, be niggards of advice on no pretence; for the worst avarice is that of sense. in the constitution of our government, and in that of one more, there still remains a particular thing that none of the other american governments have; to wit, the appointment of a governor by the _proprietors_, instead of an appointment by the _crown_. this particular in government has been found inconvenient; attended with contentions and confusions wherever it existed; and has therefore been gradually taken away from colony after colony, and every where greatly to the satisfaction and happiness of the people. our wise first proprietor and founder was fully sensible of this; and being desirous of leaving his people happy, and preventing the mischiefs that he foresaw must in time arise from that circumstance if it was continued, he determined to take it away, if possible, during his own lifetime. they accordingly entered into a contract for the sale of the proprietary right of government to the crown, and actually received a sum in part of the consideration. as he found himself likely to die before that contract (and with it, his plan for the happiness of his people) could be completed, he carefully made it a part of his last will and testament; devising the right of the government to two noble lords, in trust, that they should release it to the crown. unfortunately for us, this has never yet been done. and this is merely what the assembly now desire to have done. surely he that formed our constitution, must have understood it. if he had imagined, that all our privileges depended on the proprietary government; will any one suppose, that he would himself have meditated the change; that he would have taken such effectual measures, as he thought them, to bring it about speedily, whether he should live or die? will any of those, who now extol him so highly, charge him at the same time with the baseness of endeavouring thus to defraud his people of all the liberties and privileges he had promised them, and by the most solemn charters and grants assured to them, when he engaged them to assist him in the settlement of his province? surely none can be so inconsistent!--and yet this proprietary right of governing or appointing a governor has all of a sudden changed its nature; and the preservation of it become of so much importance to the welfare of the province, that the assembly's only petitioning to have their venerable founder's will executed, and the contract he entered into for the good of his people completed, is stiled, an "attempt to violate the constitution for which our fathers planted a wilderness; to barter away our glorious plan of public liberty and charter privileges; a risquing of the whole constitution; an offering up of our whole charter rights; a wanton sporting with things sacred, &c." pleasant surely it is to hear the proprietary partizans, of all men, bawling for the constitution, and affecting a terrible concern for our liberties and privileges. they, who have been these twenty years cursing our constitution, declaring that it was no constitution, or worse than none; and that things could never be well with us till it was new modelled, and made exactly conformable to the british constitution: they, who have treated our distinguishing privileges as so many illegalities and absurdities; who have solemnly declared in print, that though such privileges might be proper in the infancy of a colony to encourage its settlement, they became unfit for it in its grown state, and ought to be taken away: they, who by numberless falshoods, propagated with infinite industry in the mother country, attempted to procure an act of parliament for the actual depriving a very great part of the people of their privileges: they too, who have already deprived the whole people of some of their most important rights, and are daily endeavouring to deprive them of the rest: are these become patriots and advocates for our constitution? wonderful change! astonishing conversion! will the wolves then protect the sheep, if they can but persuade them to give up their dogs? yes; the assembly would destroy all their own rights, and those of the people; and the proprietary partizans are become the champions for liberty! let those who have faith now make use of it: for if it is rightly defined, the evidence of things not seen, certainly never was there more occasion for such evidence, the case being totally destitute of all other. it has been long observed, that men are with that party, angels or demons, just as they happen to concur with or oppose their measures. and i mention it for the comfort of _old sinners_, that in politics, as well as in religion, repentance and amendment, though late, shall obtain forgiveness, and procure favour. witness the late speaker, mr. norris; a steady and constant opposer of all the proprietary encroachments; and whom, for thirty years past, they have been therefore continually abusing, allowing him no one virtue or good quality whatsoever: but now, as he shewed some unwillingness to engage in this present application to the crown, he is become all at once the "faithful servant;"--but let me look at the text, to avoid mistakes--and indeed i was mistaken--i thought it had been "faithful servant of the public," but i find it is only "of the house." well chosen that expression, and prudently guarded. the former, from a proprietary pen, would have been praise too much, only for disapproving the _time_ of the application. could _you_, much respected [mr. norris], go but a little farther, and disapprove the application itself? could you but say, the proprietary government is a good one, and ought to be continued; then might all your political offences be done away, and your scarlet sins become as snow and wool; then might you end your course with (proprietary) honour. p---- should preach your funeral sermon, and s----, the poisoner of other characters, embalm your memory. but those honours you will never receive; for with returning health and strength you will be found in your old post, firm for your country. there is encouragement too for _young sinners_. mr. dickenson, whose speech our prefacer has introduced to the world, (though long hated by some, and disregarded by the rest of the proprietary faction) is at once, for the same reason as in mr. norris's case, become a sage in the law, and an oracle in matters relating to our constitution. i shall not endeavour to pluck so much as a leaf from these the young gentleman's laurels. i would only advise him carefully to preserve the panegyrics with which they have adorned him: in time they may serve to console him, by balancing the calumny they shall load him with, when he does not go through with them in all their measures: he will not probably do the one, and they will then assuredly do the other. there are mouths that can blow hot as well as cold, and blast on your brows the bays their hands have placed there. "experto crede roberto." let but the moon of _proprietary_ favour withdraw its shine for a moment, and that "great number of the _principal gentlemen_ of philadelphia," who applied to you for the copy of your speech, shall immediately despise and desert you. "those principal gentlemen!" what a pity it is that their names were not given us in the preface, together with their admirable letter! we should then have known, where to run for advice on all occasions. we should have known, who to choose for our future representatives: for undoubtedly these were they that are elsewhere called "the _wiser_ and _better_ part of the province." none but their wisdoms could have known before-hand, that a speech which they never heard, and a copy of which they had never seen, but were then requesting to see, was "a spirited defence," and "of our charter privileges," and that "the publication of it would be of great utility, and give general satisfaction." no inferior sagacity could discover, that the appointment of a governor by the proprietor was one of our "charter privileges," and that those who opposed the application for a royal government were therefore patriot members, appearing on the side of our privileges and our charter! utterly to _confound the assembly_, and show the excellence of proprietary government, the prefacer has extracted from their own votes, the _praises_ they have from time to time bestowed on the _first_ proprietor, in their addresses to his sons. and though addresses are not generally the best repositories of historical truth, we must not in this instance deny their authority. * * * * * what then avails it to the honour of the present proprietors, that our founder and their father gave us privileges, if they, the sons, will not permit the use of them, or forcibly rend them from us? david may have been a man after god's own heart, and solomon the wisest of proprietors and governors; but if rehoboam will be a tyrant and a ----, who can secure him the affections of the people? the virtue and merit of his ancestors may be very great, but his presumption in depending upon those alone may be much greater. i lamented, a few pages ago, that we were not acquainted with the names of those "principal gentlemen, the wiser and better part of the province." i now rejoice that we are likely, some time or other, to know them; for a copy of a _petition to the king_ is now before me; which, from its similarity with their _letter_, must be of their inditing, and will probably be recommended to the people, by their leading up the signing. on this petition i shall take the liberty of making a few _remarks_, as they will save me the necessity of following farther the preface; the sentiments of this and that being nearly the same. it begins with a formal quotation from the [assembly's] petition, which they own they have not seen, and of words that are not in it; and after relating very imperfectly and unfairly the fact relating to their application for a copy of it, which is of no importance, proceeds to set forth, "that as we and all your american subjects must be governed by persons authorised and approved by your majesty, on the best recommendation that can be obtained of them; we cannot perceive our condition in this respect to be _different_ from our fellow-subjects around us, or that we are thereby less under your majesty's particular care and protection than they are; since there can be no _governors_ of this province without your majesty's _immediate approbation_ and authority." such a declaration from the wiser part of the province is really a little surprising. what! when disputes concerning matters of property are daily arising between you and your proprietaries, cannot your wisdoms perceive the least difference between having the judges of those disputes appointed by a _royal_ governor, who has no interest in the cause, and having them appointed by the _proprietaries_ themselves, the principal parties against you; and _during their pleasure_ too? when supplies are necessary to be raised for your defence, can you perceive no difference between having a royal governor, free to promote his majesty's service by a ready assent to your laws; and a proprietary governor, shackled by instructions, forbidding him to give that assent, unless some private advantage is obtained, some profit got, or unequal exemption gained for their estate, or some privilege wrested from you? when prerogative, that in other governments is only used for the good of the people, is here strained to the extreme, and used to their prejudice, and the proprietaries benefit, can you perceive no difference? when the direct and immediate rays of majesty benignly and mildly shine on all _around_ us, but are transmitted and thrown upon _us_ through the burning-glass of proprietary government, can your sensibilities feel no difference? sheltered perhaps in proprietary offices, or benumbed with expectations, it may be you cannot. but surely you might have known better than to tell his majesty, "that there can be no governors of this province, without his immediate approbation." don't you know, who know so much, that by our blessed constitution the _proprietors_ themselves, whenever they please, may govern us in _person_, without such approbation? the petition proceeds to tell his majesty, "that the particular mode of government which we enjoy, under your majesty, is held in the _highest estimation_ by good men of all denominations among us; and hath _brought multitudes_ of industrious people from various parts of the world," &c. really! can this be from proprietary partizans? that constitution, which they were for ever censuring as defective in a legislative council, defective in government powers, too popular in many of its modes, is it now become so excellent? perhaps, as they have been tinkering it these twenty years, till they have stripped it of some of its most valuable privileges, and almost spoiled it, they now begin to like it. but then it is not surely this _present_ constitution, that brought hither those multitudes. they came before. at least it was not that particular in our constitution (the proprietary power of appointing a governor) which attracted them, that single particular, which alone is now in question, which our venerable founder first, and now the assembly, are endeavouring to change. as to the remaining valuable part of our constitution, the assembly have been equally full and strong in expressing their regard for it, and perhaps stronger and fuller; for _their_ petition, in that respect, is in the nature of a petition of right: it lays claim, though modestly and humbly, to those privileges on the foundation of royal grants, on laws confirmed by the crown, and on justice and equity, as the grants were the consideration offered to induce them to settle, and which they have in a manner purchased and paid for, by executing that settlement without putting the crown to any expence. whoever would know what our constitution was, when it was so much admired, let him peruse that elegant farewell speech of mr. hamilton, father of our late governor, when, as speaker, he took his leave of the house, and of public business, in ; and then let him compare that constitution with the present. the power of _appointing public officers_ by the representatives of the people, which he so much extols, where is it now? even the bare naming to the governor in a bill, a trivial officer to receive a light-house duty (which could be considered as no more than a mere recommendation) is, in a late message, styled, "an encroachment on the prerogative of the crown!" the sole power of _raising and disposing of public money_, which he says was then lodged in the assembly, that inestimable privilege, what is become of it? inch by inch they have been wrested from us in times of public distress; and the rest are going the same way. i remember to have seen, when governor hamilton was engaged in a dispute with the assembly on some of those points, a copy of that speech, which then was intended to be reprinted, with a dedication to that honourable gentleman, and this motto from john rogers's verses in the primer: we send you here a little book, for you to look upon; that you may see your father's face, now he is dead and gone. many a such little book has been sent by our assemblies to the present proprietaries: but they do not like to see their father's face; it puts their own out of countenance. the petition proceeds to say, "that such disagreements as have arisen in this province, we have beheld with sorrow; but as others around us are not exempted from the _like misfortunes_, we can by no means conceive them incident to the nature of our government, which hath _often_ been administered with remarkable harmony: and your majesty, before whom our late disputes have been laid, can be at no loss, in your great wisdom, to discover, whether they proceed from the above cause, or should be ascribed to some others." the disagreements in question are proprietary disagreements in government, relating to proprietary private interests. and are not the _royal_ governments around us exempt from _these_ misfortunes? can you really, gentlemen, by no means conceive, that proprietary government disagreements are incident to the nature of proprietary governments? if your wisdoms are so hard to conceive, i am afraid they will never bring forth. but then our government "hath _often_ been administered with remarkable harmony." very true; as often as the assembly have been able and willing to purchase that harmony, and pay for it, the mode of which has already been shown. and yet that word _often_ seems a little unluckily chosen: the flame that is often put out, must be as often lit. if our government hath often been administered with remarkable harmony, it hath as often been administered with remarkable discord: one often is as numerous as the other. and his majesty, if he should take the trouble of looking over our disputes (to which the petitioners, to save themselves a little pains, modestly and decently refer him) where will he, for twenty years past, find any but _proprietary_ disputes concerning proprietary interests; or disputes that have been connected with and arose from them? the petition proceeds to assure his majesty, "that this province (except from the indian ravages) enjoys the _most perfect internal tranquillity_!"--amazing! what! the most perfect tranquillity! when there have been three atrocious riots within a few months! when in two of them, horrid murders were committed on twenty innocent persons; and in the third, no less than one hundred and forty like murders were meditated, and declared to be intended, with as many more as should be occasioned by any opposition! when we know that these rioters and murderers have none of them been punished, have never been prosecuted, have not even been apprehended! when we are frequently told, that they intend still to execute their purposes, as soon as the protection of the king's forces is withdrawn! is our tranquillity more perfect now, than it was between the first riot and the second, or between the second and the third? and why "except the indian ravages," is a _little intermission_ to be denominated "the most perfect tranquillity?" for the indians too have been quiet lately. almost as well might ships in an engagement talk of the most perfect tranquillity between two broadsides. but "a spirit of riot and violence is foreign to the general temper of the inhabitants." i hope and believe it is; the assembly have said nothing to the contrary. and yet is there not too much of it? are there not pamphlets continually written, and daily sold in our streets, to justify and encourage it? are not the mad armed mob in those writings instigated to embrue their hands in the blood of their fellow-citizens, by first applauding their murder of the indians, and then representing the assembly and their friends as worse than indians, as having privately stirred up the indians to murder the white people, and armed and rewarded them for that purpose? lies, gentlemen, villanous as ever the malice of hell invented, and which, to do you justice, not one of you believes, though you would have the mob believe them. but your petition proceeds to say, "that where such disturbances have happened, they have been _speedily quieted_." by whom were they quieted? the _two first_, if they can be said to be quieted, were quieted only by the rioters themselves going home quietly (that is, without any interruption) and remaining there till their next insurrection, without any pursuit, or attempt to apprehend any of them. and the _third_, was it quieted, or was the mischief they intended prevented, or could it have been prevented, without the aid of the king's troops, marched into the province for that purpose?--"the civil powers have been supported," in some sort. we all know how they were supported; but have they been _fully_ supported? has the government sufficient strength, even with all its supports, to venture on the apprehending and punishment of those notorious offenders? if it has not, why are you angry at those who would strengthen its hands by a more immediate royal authority? if it has, why is not the thing done? why will the government, by its conduct, strengthen the suspicions (groundless no doubt) that it has come to a private understanding with those murderers, and that impunity for their past crimes is to be the reward of their future political services?--o! but says the petition, "there are perhaps cases in all governments where it may _not be possible speedily to discover offenders_." probably; but is there any case in any government where it is not possible to _endeavour_ such a discovery? there may be cases where it is not safe to do it: and perhaps the best thing our government can say for itself is, that that is our case. the only objection to such an apology must be, that it would justify that part of the assembly's petition to the crown, which relates to the _weakness_ of our present government.[ ] still, if there is any _fault_, it must be _in the assembly_; for, says the petition, "if the executive part of our government should seem in any case too weak, we conceive it is the duty of the assembly, and in _their_ power, to strengthen it." this weakness, however, you have just denied. "disturbances you say _have_ been speedily quieted, and the civil power supported," and thereby you have deprived your insinuated charge against the assembly of its only support. but is it not a fact known to you all, that the assembly _did_ endeavour to strengthen the hands of the government? that, at his honour's instance, they prepared and passed in a few hours a bill for extending hither the act of parliament for dispersing rioters? that they also passed and presented to him a militia bill, which he refused, unless powers were thereby given him over the lives and properties of the inhabitants, which the public good did not require; and which their duty to their constituents would not permit them to trust in the hands of any proprietary governor? you know the points, gentlemen: they have been made public. would you have had your representatives give up those points? do _you_ intend to give them up, when at the next election _you_ are made assemblymen? if so, tell it us honestly beforehand, that we may know what we are to expect when we are about to choose you? i come now to the last clause of your petition, where, with the same wonderful sagacity with which you in another case discovered the excellency of a speech you never heard, you undertake to _characterise a petition_ [_from the_ assembly] _you own you never saw_; and venture to assure his majesty, that it is "exceeding grievous in its nature, that it by no means contains a proper representation of the state of this province, and is repugnant to the general sense of his numerous and loyal subjects in it." are then his majesty's "numerous and loyal subjects" in this province all as great wizards as yourselves, and capable of knowing, without seeing it, that a petition is repugnant to their general sense? but the inconsistence of your petition, gentlemen, is not so much to be wondered at; the _prayer_ of it is _still more_ extraordinary, "we therefore most humbly pray, that your majesty would be graciously pleased _wholly to disregard_ the said petition of the assembly." what! without enquiry! without examination! without a hearing of what the assembly might say in support of it! "wholly disregard" the petition of your representatives in assembly, accompanied by other petitions, signed by thousands of your fellow-subjects as loyal, if not as wise and as good, as yourselves! would you wish to see your great and amiable prince act a part that could not become a dey of algiers? do you, who are americans, pray for a _precedent_ of such contempt in the treatment of an american assembly! such "total disregard" of their humble applications to the throne? surely your wisdoms here have overshot yourselves.--but as wisdom shows itself not only in doing what is right, but in confessing and _amending_ what is wrong, i recommend the latter particularly to your present attention; being persuaded of this consequence, that though you have been mad enough to sign such a petition, you never will be fools enough to present it. there is one thing mentioned in the preface, which i find i omitted to take notice of as i came along, _the refusal of the house to enter mr. dickinson's protest_ on their minutes. this is mentioned in such a manner there and in the newspapers, as to insinuate a charge of some partiality and injustice in the assembly. but the _reasons_ were merely these, that though protesting may be a practice with the lords of parliament, there is no instance of it in the house of commons, whose proceedings are the model followed by the assemblies of america; that there is no precedent of it on our votes, from the beginning of our present constitution; and that the introducing such a practice would be attended with inconveniences, as the representatives in assembly are not, like the lords in parliament, unaccountable to any constituents, and would therefore find it necessary for their own justification, if the reasons of the minority for being against a measure were admitted in the votes, to put there likewise the reasons that induced the majority to be for it: whereby the votes, which were intended only as a register of propositions and determinations, would be filled with the disputes of members with members, and the public business be thereby greatly retarded, if ever brought to a period. as that protest was a mere abstract of mr. dickinson's speech, every particular of it will be found answered in the following speech of mr. galloway, from which it is fit that i should no longer detain the reader.[ ] footnotes: [ ] as i am very much unacquainted with the history and principles of these provincial politics, i shall confine myself to some imperfect anecdotes concerning the parties, &c. a speech, which mr. dickinson had delivered in the pensylvania assembly against the abolition of the proprietary government, having been published, and a preface having been written to it, as i think by a dr. smith, mr. galloway's speech was held forth as a proper answer to that speech, while the preface to it appeared balanced by the above preface from dr. franklin. mr. galloway's speech, or probably the advertisement that attended it, urged, i believe, mr. dickinson first to a challenge, and then to a printed reply.--the controversy was quickly republished in england, or at least the principal parts of it; and it is from the english edition of mr. galloway's speech (printed in london by nichols in ) that i have copied the above. these several gentlemen however seem, for a time, to have better agreed in their subsequent opinions concerning american taxation by great britain; mr. dickinson, in particular, having taken a very spirited line in the farmer's letters and other pieces, which procured him considerable reputation. the congress declaration, nevertheless, for independence, was reported not to have given perfect satisfaction at first, either to himself or to mr. galloway. and in the event, mr. galloway thought proper to come over to general howe, and afterwards to embark for england. b. v. [ ] this act is intitled, an act for granting to his majesty the sum of one hundred thousand pounds: striking the same in bills of credit, and sinking the bills by a tax on all estates real and personal. [ ] i. e. in england, i suppose, when the laws were brought home to receive the king's assent. b. v. [ ] possibly this word _where_, means _wherever_. b. v. [ ] this would have been done, and the money all sunk in the hands of the people, if the agents, benjamin franklin, and robert charles, had not interposed, and voluntarily, without authority from the assembly so to do, but at their own risque, undertaken, that these amendments should be made, or that they themselves would indemnify the proprietaries from any damages they might sustain for want thereof. an action which, as the prefacer says in another case, "posterity perhaps may find a name for." [ ] it is not easy to guess from what source our proprietaries have drawn their principles. those who study law and justice as a science have established it a maxim in equity, "qui sentit commodum, sentire debet et onus." and so consistent is this with the common sense of mankind, that even our lowest untaught coblers and porters feel the force of it in their own maxim (which they are honest enough never to dispute) "touch pot, touch penny." [ ] for a fuller account of this dispute the reader is referred to the newspapers and votes of assembly. [ ] these words, "by completing the agreement," &c. are omitted by the honest prefacer, in his account of the resolve, that they might not interfere with his insinuation of the measure's being impracticable, "have the proprietors, by any act of theirs, forfeited the least tittle of what was granted them by his majesty's royal ancestors? or can they be _deprived_ of their charter rights without their consent?" &c. sensible that these questions are impertinent, if those rights are already sold. [ ] the prefacer, with great art, endeavours to represent this number as insignificant. he says the petitioners were but , and that the province contains near three hundred thousand _souls_! his reader is to imagine, that _two hundred and ninety six thousand five hundred_ of them were applied to, and refused to sign it. the truth is, that his number of souls is vastly exaggerated. the dwelling-houses in the province in did not exceed , . political arithmeticians reckon generally but five souls to a house, one house with another; and therefore, allowing for houses since built, there are not probably more than an hundred and ten thousand souls in the province; that of these, scarce twenty two thousand could with any propriety be petitioners. and considering the scattered settlement of the province; the general inattention of mankind, especially in new countries, to public affairs; and the indefatigable pains taken by the proprietaries' new allies the presbyterian clergy of philadelphia, (who wrote circular letters to every congregation in the county, to deter them from petitioning, by dutiful intimations, that if we were reduced to a royal government, it would be the "ruin of the province;") it is a wonder the number (near a sixth part) was so great as it was. but if there had been no such petitions, it would not have been material to the point. the _assembly_ went upon another foundation. they had adjourned to consult their constituents; they returned satisfied that the measure was agreeable to them, and _nothing appeared to the contrary_. [ ] the assembly being called upon by the governor for their advice on that occasion did, in a message, advise his sending for and examining the magistrates of lancaster county and borough, where the murders were committed, in order to discover the actors; but neither that nor any of the other measures recommended were ever taken. proclamations indeed were published, but soon discontinued. [ ] mr. galloway's speech is of course omitted here. _editor._ _remarks on a late protest against the appointment of mr. franklin as agent for this province_ [of pensylvania]. i have generally passed over, with a silent disregard, the _nameless_ abusive pieces that have been written against me; and though this paper, called a _protest_, is signed by some respectable names, i was, nevertheless, inclined to treat it with the same indifference; but, as the assembly is therein reflected on upon my account, it is thought more my duty to make some remarks upon it. i would first observe then, that this mode of _protesting_ by the minority, with a string of reasons against the proceedings of the majority of the house of assembly, is quite new among us; the present is the second we have had of the kind, and both within a few months. it is unknown to the practice of the house of commons, or of any house of representatives in america, that i have heard of; and seems an affected imitation of the lords in parliament, which can by no means become assemblymen of america. hence appears the absurdity of the complaint, that the house refused the protest an _entry_ on their minutes. the protesters know, that they are not, by any custom or usage, intitled to such an entry; and that the practice here is not only useless in itself, but would be highly inconvenient to the house, since it would probably be thought necessary for the majority also to enter their reasons, to justify themselves to their constituents; whereby the minutes would be incumbered and the public business obstructed. more especially will it be found inconvenient, if such protests are made use of as a new form of libelling, as the vehicles of personal malice, and as means of giving to private abuse the appearance of a sanction as public acts. your protest, gentlemen, was therefore properly refused; and since it is no part of the proceedings of assembly, one may with the more freedom examine it. your first reason against my appointment is, that you "believe me to be the chief author of the measures pursued by the last assembly, which have occasioned _such uneasiness_ and distraction among the good people of this province." i shall not dispute my share in those measures; i hope they are such as will in time do honour to all that were concerned in them. but you seem mistaken in the order of time: it was the uneasiness and distraction among the good people of the province that occasioned the measures; the province was in confusion before they were taken, and they were pursued in order to prevent such uneasiness and distraction for the future. make one step farther back, and you will find proprietary injustice supported by proprietary minions and creatures, the original cause of all our uneasiness and distractions. another of your reasons is, "that i am, as you are informed, very _unfavourably_ thought of by several of his _majesty's ministers_." i apprehend, gentlemen, that your informer is mistaken. he indeed has taken great pains to give unfavourable impressions of me, and perhaps may flatter himself, that it is impossible so much true industry should be totally without effect. his long success in maiming or murdering all the reputations that stand in his way (which has been the dear delight and constant employment of his life) may likewise have given him some just ground for confidence, that he has, as they call it, _done for me_, among the rest. but, as i said before, i believe he is mistaken. for what have i done, that they should think unfavourably of me? it cannot be my constantly and uniformly promoting the measures of the crown, ever since i had any influence in the province. it cannot, surely, be my promoting the change from a proprietary to a royal government. if indeed i had, by speeches and writings, endeavoured to make his majesty's government universally odious in the province: if i had harangued by the week to all comers and goers, on the pretended injustice and oppressions of royal government, and the slavery of the people under it: if i had written traitorous papers to this purpose, and got them translated into other languages, to give his majesty's foreign subjects here those horrible ideas of it: if i had declared, written, and printed, that "the king's little finger we should find heavier than the proprietor's whole loins," with regard to our liberties; _then indeed_ might the ministers be supposed to think unfavourably of me. but these are not exploits for a man, who holds a profitable office under the crown, and can expect to hold it no longer than he behaves with the fidelity and duty that becomes every good subject. they are only for officers of proprietary appointment, who hold their commissions during his, and not the king's pleasure; and who, by dividing among themselves and their relations, offices of many thousands a year enjoyed by proprietary favour, _feel_ where to place their loyalty. i wish they were as good subjects to his majesty; and perhaps they may be so, when the proprietary interferes no longer. another of your reasons is, "that the proposal of me for _an agent_ is extremely disagreeable to a very great number of the most serious and reputable inhabitants of the province; and the _proof_ is, my having been rejected at the last election, though i had represented the city in assembly for fourteen years." and do those of you, gentlemen, reproach me with this, who, among near four thousand voters, had scarcely a score more than i had? it seems then, that your _elections_ were very near being _rejections_, and thereby furnishing the same proof in your case that you produce in mine, of _your_ being likewise extremely disagreeable to a very great number of the most serious and reputable people. do you, honourable sir, reproach me with this, who, for almost twice fourteen years have been rejected (if _not being chosen_ is _to be rejected_) by the same people? and (unable, with all your wealth and connections, and the influence they give you, to obtain an election in the county where you reside, and the city where you were born, and are best known) have been obliged to accept a seat from one of the out-counties, the remotest of the province!--it is known, sir, to the persons who proposed me, that i was first chosen against my inclination, and against my entreaties that i might be suffered to remain a private man. in none of the fourteen elections you mention, did i ever appear as a candidate. i never did, directly or indirectly, solicit any man's vote. for six of the years in which i was annually chosen, i was absent, residing in england; during all which time, your secret and open attacks upon my character and reputation were incessant; and yet you gained no ground. and can you really, gentlemen, find matter of triumph in this _rejection_ as you call it? a moment's reflection on the means by which it was obtained must make you ashamed of it. not only my duty to the crown, in carrying the post-office act more duly into execution, was made use of to exasperate the ignorant, as if i was encreasing my own profits, by picking their pockets; but my very zeal in opposing the murderers, and supporting the authority of government; and even my humanity, with regard to the innocent indians under our protection, were mustered among my offences, to stir up against me those religious bigots, who are of all savages the most brutish. add to this, the numberless falshoods propagated as truths, and the many perjuries procured among the wretched rabble, brought to swear themselves intitled to a vote: and yet so _poor a superiority_ obtained at all this expence of honour and conscience! can this, gentlemen, be matter of triumph? enjoy it then. your exultation, however, was short. your artifices did not prevail every where; nor your double tickets and whole boxes of forged votes. a great majority of the new-chosen assembly were of the old members, and remain uncorrupted. they still stood firm for the people, and will obtain justice from the proprietaries. but what does that avail to you, who are in the proprietary interest? and what comfort can it afford you, when, by the assembly's choice of an agent, it appears that the same, to you obnoxious, man (notwithstanding all your venomous invectives against him) still retains so great a share of the public confidence? but "this step, you say, gives you the more lively affliction, as it is taken at the _very moment_ when you were informed by a member of the house, that the governor had assured him of his having received instructions from the proprietaries, to give his assent to the taxation of their estates; in the _same manner_ that the estates of other persons are to be taxed; and also _to confirm_, for the public use, the several squares formerly _claimed_ by the city." o the force of friendship! the power of interest! what politeness they infuse into a writer, and what _delicate_ expressions they produce!--the dispute between the proprietaries and us was about the _quantum_, the _rate_ of their taxation, and not about the _manner_; but now, when all the world condemns them for requiring a partial exemption of their estates, and they are forced to submit to an honest equality, it is called "_assenting_ to be taxed in the _same manner_ with the people." their _restitution_ of five public squares in the plan of the city, which they had near forty years unjustly and dishonourably seized and detained from us, (directing their surveyor to map streets over them, in order to turn them into lots, and their officers to sell a part of them;) this their _disgorging_ is softly called _confirming_ them for the public use; and instead of the plain words "_formerly given_ to the city, by the first proprietary, their father," we have the cautious pretty expression of "formerly _claimed_ by the city:" yes; not only _formerly_, but _always_ claimed, ever since they were _promised_ and _given_ to encourage the settlers; and ever will be _claimed_, till we are put in actual possession of them. it is pleasant, however, to see how lightly and tenderly you trip over these matters, as if you trod upon eggs. but that "_very moment_," that precious moment! why was it so long delayed? why were those healing instructions so long withheld and concealed from the people? they were, it seems, brought over by mr. allen:[ ] intelligence was received by various hands from london, that orders were sent by the proprietaries, from which great hopes were entertained of an accommodation. why was the bringing and the delivery of such orders so long _denied_? the reason is easily understood. messieurs barclays, friends to both proprietaries and people, wished for that gentleman's happy arrival; hoping his _influence_, added to the _power_ and _commissions_ the proprietaries had vested him with, might prove effectual in restoring harmony and tranquillity among us; but _he_, it seems, hoped his _influence_ might do the business, without those additions. there appeared on his arrival some prospect (from sundry circumstances) of a _change_ to be made in the house by the approaching election. the proprietary friends and creatures knew the heart of their master; and how extremely disagreeable to him that _equal taxation_, that _restitution_, and the other _concessions_ to be made for the sake of a reconciliation, must necessarily be. they hoped therefore to spare him all those mortifications, and thereby secure a greater portion of his favour. hence the instructions were not produced to the last assembly, though they arrived before the september sitting, when the governor was in town, and actually did business with the house. nor to the new assembly were they mentioned, till the "_very moment_," the fatal moment, when the house were on the point of choosing that wicked adversary of the proprietary to be an _agent_ for the province in england. but i have, you say, a "fixed _enmity to the proprietaries_," and "you believe it will _preclude all accommodation_ of our disputes with them, even on just and reasonable terms." and why do you think i have a fixed enmity to the proprietaries? i have never had any personal difference with them. i am no land-jobber; and therefore have never had any thing to do with their land-office or officers; if i had, probably, like others, i might have been obliged to truckle to their measures, or have had like causes of complaint. but our private interests never clashed; and all their resentment against me, and mine to them, has been on the public account. let them do justice to the people of pensylvania, act honourably by the citizens of philadelphia, and become honest men; my enmity, if that's of any consequence, ceases from the "_very moment_;" and, as soon as i possibly can, i promise to love, honour and respect them. in the mean time, why do you "believe it will preclude all _accommodation_ with them on just and reasonable terms?" do you not boast, that their gracious condescensions are in the hands of the governor; and that "if this had been the usual time for business, his honour would have sent them down in a message to the house." how then can my going to england prevent this accommodation? the governor can call the house when he pleases; and, one would think, that, at least in your opinion, my being out of the way would be a favourable circumstance. for then, by "cultivating the disposition shown by the proprietaries, every _reasonable demand_ that can be made on the part of the people might be obtained: in vigorously insisting on which, you promise to unite most earnestly with the rest of the house." it seems then we have "_reasonable demands_" to make, and, as you call them a little higher, _equitable demands_. this is much for proprietary minions to own; but you are all growing better, in imitation of your master, which is indeed very commendable. and if the accommodation here should fail, i hope, that though you dislike the person a majority of two to one in the house have thought fit to appoint an agent, you will nevertheless, in duty to your country, continue the noble resolution of uniting with the rest of the house, in vigorously insisting on that _equity_ and _justice_, which such an union will undoubtedly obtain for us. i pass over the trivial charge against the assembly, that they "acted with _unnecessary haste_ in proceeding to this appointment, without making a small adjournment," &c. and your affected apprehensions of danger from that haste. the necessity of expedition on this occasion is as obvious to every one out of doors, as it was to those within; and the fears you mention are not, i fancy, considerable enough to break your rest. i come then to your _high_ charge against me, "that i heretofore ventured, _contrary_ to an act of assembly, to place the public money in the stocks; whereby this province suffered a loss of _l._ and that sum, added to the _l._ granted for my expences, makes the whole cost of my former voyage to england amount to _eleven thousand pounds_!" how wisely was that form in our laws contrived, which, when a man is arraigned for his life, requires the evidence to speak _the truth_, the _whole truth_, and _nothing but the truth_! the reason is manifest. a falshood may destroy the innocent, so may _part of a truth_ without _the whole_; and a mixture of truth and falshood may be full as pernicious. you, mr. chief justice, and the other justices among the protesters, and you, sir, who are a counsellor at law, must all of you be well acquainted with this excellent form; and when you arraigned my reputation (dearer to me than life) before the assembly, and now at the respectable tribunal of the public, would it not have well become your honours to have had some small regard at least to the spirit of that form? you might have mentioned, that the direction of the act, to lodge the money in the bank, subject to the drafts of the trustees of the loan-office here, was impracticable; that the bank refused to receive it on those terms, it being contrary to their settled rules to take charge of money subject to the orders of unknown people living in distant countries. you might have mentioned, that the house being informed of this, and having no immediate call for the money, did _themselves_ adopt the measure of placing it in the stocks, which then were low, where it might on a peace produce a considerable profit, and in the mean time accumulate an interest: that they even passed a bill, directing the subsequent sums granted by parliament to be placed with the former: that the measure was prudent and safe; and that the loss arose, not from _placing_ the money _in_ the stocks, but from the imprudent and unnecessary _drawing it out_ at the very time when they were lowest, on some slight uncertain rumours of a peace concluded: that if the assembly had let it remain another year, instead of losing they would have gained _six thousand pounds_; and that after all, since the exchange at which they sold their bills was near _twenty per cent_ higher when they drew than when the stocks were purchased, the loss was far from being so great as you represent it. all these things you might have said; for they are, and you know them to be, part of the _whole truth_; but they would have spoiled your accusation. the late speaker of your honourable house, mr. norris, (who has, i suppose, all my letters to him, and copies of his own to me, relating to that transaction) can testify with how much integrity and clearness i managed the whole affair. all the house were sensible of it, being from time to time fully acquainted with the facts. if i had gone to gaming in the stocks with the public money, and through my fault a sum was lost, as your protest would insinuate, why was i not censured and punished for it when i returned? you, honourable sir, (my enemy of seven years standing) was then in the house. you were appointed on the committee for examining my accounts; you reported, that you found them just, and signed that report.[ ] i never solicited the employ of agent; i made no bargain for my future service, when i was ordered to england by the assembly; nor did they vote me any salary. i lived there near six years at my own expence, and i made no charge or demand when i came home. you, sir, of all others, was the very member that proposed (for the honour and justice of the house) a compensation to be made me of the _five thousand pounds_ you mention. was it with an intent to reproach me thus publicly for accepting it? i thanked the house for it then, and i thank you now for proposing it: though you, who have lived in england, can easily conceive, that besides the prejudice to my private affairs by my absence, a _thousand pounds_ more would not have reimbursed me. the money voted was immediately paid me. but if i had occasioned the loss of _six thousand pounds_ to the province, here was a fair opportunity of securing easily the greatest part of it; why was not the _five thousand pounds_ deducted, and the remainder called for? the reason is, this accusation was not then invented. permit me to add, that supposing the whole _eleven thousand pounds_ an expence occasioned by my voyage to england, yet the taxation of the proprietary estate now established will, when valued by years purchase, be found in time an advantage to the public, far exceeding that expence. and if the expence is at present a burthen, the odium of it ought to lie on those, who, by their injustice, made the voyage necessary; and not on me, who only submitted to the orders of the house in undertaking it. i am now to take leave (perhaps a last leave) of the country i love, and in which i have spent the greatest part of my life.--esto perpetua.--i wish every kind of prosperity to my friends,--and i forgive my enemies. b. franklin. _philadelphia, nov. , ._ footnotes: [ ] _extract of a letter, dated london, august , , from david barclay and sons, to messieurs james and drinker._ "we very much wish for william allen's happy arrival on your side; when we hope his influence, added to the _power_ and _commissions_ the proprietaries have invested him with, may prove effectual, in restoring harmony and tranquillity among you, so much to be desired by every well-wisher to your province. pray be assured of our sincerest and best wishes for the success of this salutary work, and that nothing in our power, to contribute thereto, will ever be wanting." [ ] _report of the committee on benjamin franklin's accounts._ "in obedience to the order of the house, we have examined the account of benjamin franklin, esq. with the vouchers to us produced in support thereof, and do find the same account to be just, and that he has expended, in the immediate service of this province, the sum of _seven hundred and fourteen pounds, ten shillings and seven-pence_, out of the sum of _fifteen hundred pounds_ sterling to him remitted and paid, exclusive of any allowance or charge for his support and services for the province. john morton, john hughes, william allen, samuel rhoads, john ross, john wilkinson, john moor, isaac pearson. joseph fox, february , . "the house taking the foregoing report of the committee of accounts into consideration, and having spent some time therein, "resolved, "that the sum of _five hundred pounds_ sterling _per annum_ be allowed and given to benjamin franklin, esq. late agent for the province of pensylvania at the court of great britain, during his absence of six years from his business and connections, in the service of the public; and that the thanks of this house be also given to the said gentleman by mr. speaker, from the chair; as well for the faithful discharge of his duty to this province in particular, as for the many and important services done america in general, during his residence in great britain." _thursday, march , ._ "pursuant to a resolve of the nineteenth of last month, that the thanks of this house be given to benjamin franklin, esq. for his many services not only to the province of pensylvania, but to america in general, during his late agency at the court of great britain; the same were this day accordingly given in form from the chair.--to which mr. franklin, respectfully addressing himself to the speaker, made answer, that he was thankful to the house, for the very handsome and generous allowance they had been pleased to make him for his services; but that the approbation of this house was, in his estimation, far above every other kind of recompence." _votes_, . _remarks on a plan for the future management of indian affairs[ ]._ the regulations in this plan seem to me to be in general very good: but some few appear to want explanation, or farther consideration. _clause_ . is it intended by this clause, to prevent the trade that indians, living near the frontiers, may choose to carry on with the inhabitants, by bringing their skins into the [english] settlements? this prevention is hardly practicable; as such trade may be carried on in many places out of the observation of government; the frontier being of great extent, and the inhabitants thinly settled in the woods, remote from each other. the indians too do not every where live in towns sufficiently numerous to encourage traders to reside among them, but in scattered families, here and there, often shifting their situation for the sake of better hunting; and if they _are_ near the english settlements, it would seem to them very hard to be obliged to carry their skins for sale to remote towns or posts, when they could dispose of them to their neighbours, with less trouble, and to greater advantage; as the goods they want for them, are and must be dearer at such remote posts. . the colony "laws for regulating indian affairs or commerce" are the result of long experience, made by people on the spot, interested to make them good; and it would be well to consider the matter thoroughly, before they are repealed, to make way for new untried schemes. by whom are they to be repealed? by the colony assemblies, or by parliament? some difficulty will arise here. . the districts seem too large for this. the indians under the care of the northern superintendant, by this plan, border on the colonies of nova scotia, quebec, new hampshire, massachusetts, connecticut, new york, new jersey, pensylvania, maryland, virginia: the superintendant's situation, remote from many of these, may occasion great inconvenience, if his consent is always to be necessary in such cases. . this seems too much to be done, when the vastness of the district is considered. if there were more districts and smaller, it might be more practicable. and . are these agents or commissaries to try causes where life is concerned? would it not be better, to send the criminals into some civil well settled government or colony for trial, where good juries can be had? . "_chief for the whole tribe; who shall constantly reside with the commissary, &c._" provision must then be made for his maintenance, as particular indians have no estates, but live by hunting, and their public has no funds or revenues. being used to rambling, it would perhaps not be easy to find one, who would be obliged to this constant residence; but it may be tried. . if the agent and his deputies, and the commissaries, are not to trade, should it not be a part of their oath, that they will have no concern in such trade, directly or indirectly? private agreements between them and the traders, for share of profits, should be guarded against, and the same care taken to prevent, if possible, private agreements between them and the purchasers of indian lands. . ---- "or trading at any other post, &c." this should be so expressed, as to make the master liable for the offence of the servant; otherwise it will have no effect. . i doubt the settling of _tariffs_ will be a matter of difficulty. there may be differences of fineness, goodness, and value, in the goods of different traders, that cannot be properly allowed for by general tariffs. and it seems contrary to the nature of commerce, for government to interfere in the prices of commodities. trade is a voluntary thing between buyer and seller; in every article of which, each exercises his own judgment, and is to please himself. suppose either indian or trader is dissatisfied with the tariff, and refuses barter on those terms, are the refusers to be compelled? if not, why should an indian be forbidden to take more goods for skins than your tariff allows, if the trader is willing to give them, or a trader more skins for his goods, if the indian is willing to give them? where there are a number of different traders, the separate desire of each to get more custom will operate in bringing down their goods to a reasonable price. it therefore seems to me, that trade will best find and make its own rates; and that government cannot well interfere, unless it will take the whole trade into its own hands (as in some colonies it does) and manage it by its own servants, at its own risque. . i apprehend, that if the indians cannot get _rum_ of fair traders, it will be a great means of defeating all these regulations, that direct the trade to be carried on at certain posts. the countries and forests are so very large, it is scarce possible to guard every part, so as to prevent unlicensed traders drawing the indians and the trade to themselves, by rum and other spiritous liquors, which all savage people are so fond of. i think they will generally trade where they can get rum, preferably to where it is refused them; and the proposed prohibition will therefore be a great encouragement to unlicensed traders, and promote such trade. if the commissaries, or officers at the posts, can prevent the selling of rum during the barter for other goods, and until the indians are about going away, it is perhaps all that is practicable or necessary. the missionaries will, among other things, endeavour to prevail with them to live soberly and avoid drunkenness. . the indian trade, so far as _credit_ is concerned, has hitherto been carried on wholly upon honour. they have among themselves no such things as prisons or confinements for debt. this article seems to imply, that an indian may be compelled by law to pay a debt of fifty shillings or under. our legal method of compulsion is by imprisonment: the indians cannot and will not imprison one another; and if we attempt to imprison them, i apprehend it would be generally disliked by the nations, and occasion breaches. they have such high ideas of the value of personal liberty, and such slight ones of the value of personal property;[ ] that they would think the disproportion monstrous between the liberty of a man, and a debt of a few shillings; and that it would be excessively inequitable and unjust, to take away the one for a default in payment of the other. it seems to me therefore best, to leave that matter on its present footing; the debts _under_ fifty shillings as irrecoverable by law, as this article proposes for the debts _above_ fifty shillings. debts of honour are generally as well paid as other debts. where no compulsion can be used, it is more disgraceful to be dishonest. if the trader thinks his risque greater in trusting any particular indian, he will either not do it, or proportion his price to his risque. . as the goods for the indian trade all come from england, and the peltry is chiefly brought to england; perhaps it will be best to lay the duty here, on the exportation of the one, and the importation of the other, to avoid meddling with the question, of the right to lay duties in america by parliament here. if it is thought proper to carry the trading part of this plan into execution, would it not be well to _try it first in a few posts_, to which the present colony laws for regulating the indian trade do not reach; that by experience its utility may be ascertained, or its defects discovered and amended, before it is made general, and those laws repealed to make way for it?--if the indians find by experience, that they are better used in their trade at the posts, under these regulations, than at other places, may it not make them desirous of having the regulations extended to other places; and when extended, better satisfied with them upon reflection and comparison[ ]? footnotes: [ ] the plan remarked upon was under the consideration of ministry before the close of the year , and (as i am inclined to think) after the commencement of . i can go no nearer as to its date. it is needless to enter into the particulars of it, as the remarks explain themselves; except perhaps as to the following points. the trade was to be open; there were to be two superintendants to it; in the northern district the trade was to be carried on at fixed posts, in the southern within the indian town; the military were to have no power over the superintendants or the indian trade, even in war time, unless with the superintendants' assent, or in great exigencies; the superintendants, by themselves or deputies, were to make annual visitations among the indians, to see to justice, &c. and their proceedings were to be very summary; and no credit was to be given to the indians beyond fifty shillings, for no higher debt was to be made recoverable. b. v. [ ] for an account of the sentiments and manners of the indians, see an essay by our author in a subsequent part of this volume. _editor._ [ ] the editor has given the following memorandum of indian _fighting men_, inhabiting near the distant posts, in ; to indulge the curious in future times. the paper is in dr. franklin's hand-writing: but it must not be mistaken as containing a list of the whole of the nations enumerated, but only such part of them as lived near the places described. b. v. a list of the number of fighting men of the different nations of indians, through which i (george croghan) passed, living at or near the several posts. sandusky. wyandotts and mohickons detroit. poutauwautimies ottawas wyandotts cheapwas michilemakinac. ottawas cheapwas la bay. meynomeneys pervons sax reynard st. joseph's. poutauwautimies ottawas (some distance) the miamies. mincamies or twigtwees ouitanon. ouitanons thickapoose musquiton pyankishaws shawanese. at the lower town, on scioto at the upper town, on muskingum ---- there is a nation, back of the bay, who used formerly to come there to visit the french when they were in possession of that post, called _la sieu_, computed to be fighting men; who have this summer sent word to mr. gorrell, who commands there, that they purpose paying him a visit late this fall or in the spring. papers on american subjects, during the _revolutionary troubles_. papers on american subjects, during the _revolutionary troubles_. _causes of the american discontents before [ ]._ the waves never rise but when the winds blow. prov. sir, as the cause of the present ill humour in america, and of the resolutions taken there to purchase less of our manufactures, does not seem to be generally understood, it may afford some satisfaction to your readers, if you give them the following short historical state of facts. from the time that the colonies were first considered as capable of _granting aids to the crown_, down to the end of the last war, it is said, that the constant mode of obtaining those aids was, by requisition made from the crown, through its governors, to the several assemblies, in circular letters from the secretary of state, in his majesty's name, setting forth the occasion, requiring them to take the matter into consideration, and expressing a reliance on their prudence, duty, and affection to his majesty's government, that they would grant such sums, or raise such numbers of men, as were suitable to their respective circumstances. the colonies, being accustomed to this method, have from time to time granted money to the crown, or raised troops for its service, in proportion to their abilities, and, during all the last war, beyond their abilities; so that considerable sums were returned them yearly by parliament, as they had exceeded their proportion. had this happy method of requisition been continued (a method that left the king's subjects in those remote countries the pleasure of showing their zeal and loyalty, and of imagining that they recommended themselves to their sovereign by the liberality of their voluntary grants) there is no doubt, but all the money that could reasonably be expected to be raised from them in any manner, might have been obtained, without the least heart-burning, offence, or breach of the harmony of affections and interests, that so long subsisted between the two countries. it has been thought wisdom in a government exercising sovereignty over different kinds of people, to have _some regard to prevailing and established opinions_ among the people to be governed, wherever such opinions might in their effects obstruct or promote public measures. if they tend to obstruct public service, they are to be changed, if possible, before we attempt to act against them; and they can only be changed by reason and persuasion. but if public business can be carried on without thwarting those opinions, if they can be, on the contrary, made subservient to it; they are not unnecessarily to be thwarted, how absurd such popular opinions may be in their nature. this had been the wisdom of our government with respect to raising money in the colonies. it was well known, that the colonists universally were of opinion, that no money could be levied from english subjects but by their own consent, given by themselves or their chosen representatives; that therefore whatever money was to be raised from the people in the colonies must first be granted by their assemblies, as the money raised in britain is first to be granted by the house of commons; that this right of granting their own money was essential to english liberty; and that if any man, or body of men in which they had no representative of their choosing, could tax them at pleasure, they could not be said to have any property, any thing they could call their own. but as these opinions did not hinder their granting money voluntarily and amply, whenever the crown, by its servants, came into their assemblies (as it does into its parliaments of britain or ireland) and demanded aids; therefore that method was chosen, rather than the hateful one of arbitrary taxes. i do not undertake here to support these opinions of the americans; they have been refuted by a late act of parliament, declaring its own power; which very parliament, however, showed wisely so much tender regard to those inveterate prejudices, as to repeal a tax that had militated against them. and those prejudices are still so fixed and rooted in the americans, that it has been supposed, not a single man among them has been convinced of his error, even by that act of parliament. the person then, who first projected to lay aside the accustomed method of requisition, and to raise money on america by _stamps_, seems not to have acted wisely, in deviating from that method (which the colonists looked upon as constitutional) and thwarting unnecessarily the fixed prejudices of so great a number of the king's subjects. it was not, however, for want of knowledge, that what he was about to do would give them offence; he appears to have been very sensible of this, and apprehensive that it might occasion some disorders; to prevent or suppress which, he projected another bill, that was brought in the same session with the stamp act, whereby it was to be made lawful for military officers in the colonies to quarter their soldiers in private houses. this seemed intended to awe the people into a compliance with the other act. great opposition however being raised here against the bill by the agents from the colonies and the merchants trading thither (the colonists declaring, that under such a power in the army, no one could look on his house as his own, or think he had a home, when soldiers might be thrust into it and mixed with his family at the pleasure of an officer) that part of the bill was dropped; but there still remained a clause, when it passed into a law, to oblige the several assemblies to provide quarters for the soldiers, furnishing them with firing, bedding, candles, small beer or rum, and sundry other articles, at the expence of the several provinces. and this act continued in force when the stamp act was repealed; though, if obligatory on the assemblies, it equally militated against the american principle above mentioned, that money is not to be raised on english subjects without their consent. the colonies, nevertheless, being put into high good humour by the repeal of the stamp act, chose to avoid a fresh dispute upon the other, it being temporary and soon to expire, never, as they hoped, to revive again; and in the mean time they, by various ways, in different colonies, provided for the quartering of the troops, either by acts of their own assemblies, without taking notice of the act of parliament, or by some variety or small diminution, as of salt and vinegar, in the supplies required by the act; that what they did might appear a voluntary act of their own, and not done in due obedience to an act of parliament, which, according to their ideas of their rights, they thought hard to obey. it might have been well if the matter had then passed without notice; but a governor having written home an angry and aggravating letter upon this conduct in the assembly of his province, the outed [proposer[ ]] of the stamp act and his adherents (then in the opposition) raised such a clamour against america, as being in rebellion, and against those who had been for the repeal of the stamp act, as having thereby been encouragers of this supposed rebellion; that it was thought necessary to enforce the quartering act by another act of parliament, taking away from the province of new york (which had been the most explicit in its refusal) all the powers of legislation, till it should have complied with that act. the news of which greatly alarmed the people every where in america, as the language of such an act seemed to them to be--obey implicitly laws made by the parliament of great britain to raise money on you without your consent, or you shall enjoy no rights or privileges at all. at the same time a person lately in high office[ ] projected the levying more money from america, by new duties on various articles of our own manufacture (as glass, paper, painters' colours, &c.) appointing a new board of customs, and sending over a set of commissioners, with large salaries, to be established at boston, who were to have the care of collecting those duties, which were by the act expressly mentioned to be intended for the payment of the salaries of governors, judges, and other officers of the crown in america; it being a pretty general opinion here, that those officers ought not to depend on the people there, for any part of their support. it is not my intention to combat this opinion. but perhaps it may be some satisfaction to your readers, to know what ideas the americans have on the subject. they say then, as to governors, that they are not like princes whose posterity have an inheritance in the government of a nation, and therefore an interest in its prosperity; they are generally strangers to the provinces they are sent to govern; have no estate, natural connection, or relation there, to give them an affection for the country; that they come only to make money as fast as they can; are sometimes men of vicious characters and broken fortunes, sent by a minister merely to get them out of the way; that as they intend staying in the country no longer than their government continues, and purpose to leave no family behind them, they are apt to be regardless of the good-will of the people, and care not what is said or thought of them after they are gone. their situation at the same time gives them many opportunities of being vexatious; and they are often so, notwithstanding their dependence on the assemblies for all that part of their support, that does not arise from fees established by law, but would probably be much more so, if they were to be supported by money drawn from the people without their consent or good-will, which is the professed design of this new act. that if by means of these forced duties, government is to be supported in america, without the intervention of the assemblies, their assemblies will soon be looked upon as useless; and a governor will not call them, as having nothing to hope from their meeting, and perhaps something to fear from their inquiries into, and remonstrances against, his mal-administration. that thus the people will be deprived of their most essential right. that it being (as at present) a governor's interest to cultivate the good-will, by promoting the welfare of the people he governs, can be attended with no prejudice to the mother-country, since all the laws he may be prevailed on to give his assent to are subject to revision here, and if reported against by the board of trade, are immediately repealed by the crown; nor dare he pass any law contrary to his instructions; as he holds his office during the pleasure of the crown, and his securities are liable for the penalties of their bonds, if he contravenes those instructions. this is what they say as to governors. as to _judges_, they alledge, that being appointed from hence, and holding their commissions not during good behaviour, as in britain, but during pleasure: all the weight of interest or influence would be thrown into one of the scales (which ought to be held even) if the salaries are also to be paid out of duties raised upon the people without their consent, and independent of their assemblies approbation or disapprobation of the judges behaviour. that it is true, judges should be free from all influence; and therefore, whenever government here will grant commissions to able and honest judges during good behaviour, the assemblies will settle permanent and ample salaries on them during their commissions; but at present, they have no other means of getting rid of an ignorant or an unjust judge (and some of scandalous characters have, they say, been sometimes sent them) left, but by starving them out. i do not suppose these reasonings of theirs will appear here to have much weight. i do not produce them with an expectation of convincing your readers. i relate them merely in pursuance of the task i have imposed on myself, to be an impartial historian of american facts and opinions. -- -- the colonists being thus greatly alarmed, as i said before, by the news of the act for abolishing the legislature of new york, and the imposition of these new duties, professedly for such disagreeable purposes (accompanied by a new set of revenue officers, with large appointments, which gave strong suspicions, that more business of the same kind was soon to be provided for them, that they might earn their salaries) began seriously to consider their situation; and to revolve afresh in their minds, grievances, which, from their respect and love for this country, they had long borne and seemed almost willing to forget. they reflected how lightly the interest of _all_ america had been estimated here, when the interests of a _few_ of the inhabitants of great britain happened to have the smallest competition with it. that the whole american people was forbidden the advantage of a direct importation of wine, oil, and fruit, from portugal; but must take them loaded with all the expence of a voyage one thousand leagues round about, being to be landed first in england, to be re-shipped for america; expences amounting, in war-time, at least to thirty pounds per cent more than otherwise they would have been charged with; and all this merely, that a few portugal merchants in london may gain a commission on those goods passing through their hands. (portugal merchants, by the bye, that can complain loudly of the smallest hardships laid on their trade by foreigners, and yet even in the last year could oppose with all their influence the giving ease to their fellow-subjects labouring under so heavy an oppression!) that on a slight complaint of a few virginia merchants, nine colonies had been restrained from making paper-money, become absolutely necessary to their internal commerce, from the constant remittance of their gold and silver to britain.--but not only the interest of a particular body of _merchants_, but the interest of any small body of british _tradesmen or artificers_ has been found, they say, to outweigh that of all the king's subjects in the colonies. there cannot be a stronger natural right than that of a man's making the best profit he can of the natural produce of his lands, provided he does not thereby hurt the state in general. iron is to be found every where in america, and beaver are the natural produce of that country: hats, and nails and steel are wanted there as well as here. it is of no importance to the common welfare of the empire, whether a subject of the king gets his living by making hats on this, or on that side of the water. yet the hatters of england have prevailed to obtain an act in their own favour, restraining that manufacture in america; in order to oblige the americans to send their beaver to england to be manufactured, and purchase back the hats, loaded with the charges of a double transportation. in the same manner have a few nail-makers, and still a smaller body of steel-makers (perhaps there are not half a dozen of these in england) prevailed totally to forbid by an act of parliament the erecting of slitting-mills, or steel furnaces in america; that the americans may be obliged to take all their nails for their buildings, and steel for their tools, from these artificers, under the same disadvantages.[ ] added to these, the americans remembered the act authorizing the most cruel insult that perhaps was ever offered by one people to another, that of _emptying our gaols_ into their settlements; scotland too having within these two years obtained the privilege it had not before, of sending its rogues and villains also to the plantations--i say, reflecting on these things, they said one to another (their newspapers are full of such discourses) "these people are not content with making a monopoly of us (forbidding us to trade with any other country of europe, and compelling us to buy every thing of them, though in many articles we could furnish ourselves ten, twenty, and even to fifty per cent cheaper elsewhere;) but now they have as good as declared they have a right to tax us ad libitum, internally and externally; and that our constitutions and liberties shall all be taken away, if we do not submit to that claim. "they are not content with the high prices at which they sell us their goods, but have now begun to enhance those prices by new duties, and by the expensive apparatus of a new set of officers, appear to intend an augmentation and multiplication of those burthens, that shall still be more grievous to us. our people have been foolishly fond of their superfluous modes and manufactures, to the impoverishing our own country, carrying off all our cash, and loading us with debt; they will not suffer us to restrain the luxury of our inhabitants, as they do that of their own, by laws: they can make laws to discourage or prohibit the importation of french superfluities: but though those of england are as ruinous to us as the french ones are to them, if we make a law of that kind, they immediately repeal it. thus they get all our money from us by trade; and every profit we can any where make by our fisheries, our produce, or our commerce, centres finally with them;--but this does not satisfy.--it is time then to take care of ourselves by the best means in our power. let us unite in solemn resolution and engagements with and to each other, that we will give these new officers as little trouble as possible, by not consuming the british manufactures on which they are to levy the duties. let us agree to consume no more of their expensive gewgaws. let us live frugally, and let us industriously manufacture what we can for ourselves: thus we shall be able honourably to discharge the debts we already owe them; and after that, we may be able to keep some money in our country, not only for the uses of our internal commerce, but for the service of our gracious sovereign, whenever he shall have occasion for it, and think proper to require it of us in the old constitutional manner.--for notwithstanding the reproaches thrown out against us in their public papers and pamphlets, notwithstanding we have been reviled in their senate as rebels and traitors, we are truly a loyal people. scotland has had its rebellions, and england its plots against the present royal family; but _america is untainted with those crimes_; there is in it scarce a man, there is not a single native of our country, who is not firmly attached to his king by principle and by affection. but a new kind of loyalty seems to be required of us, a loyalty to parliament; a loyalty, that is to extend, it is said, to a surrender of all our properties, whenever a house of commons, in which there is not a single member of our chusing, shall think fit to grant them away without our consent, and to a patient suffering the loss of our privileges as englishmen, if we cannot submit to make such surrender. we were separated too far from britain by the ocean, but we were united to it by respect and love; so that we could at any time freely have spent our lives and little fortunes in its cause: but this unhappy new system of politics tends to dissolve those bands of union, and to sever us for ever." these are the wild ravings of the, at present, half-distracted americans. to be sure, no reasonable man in england can approve of such sentiments, and, as i said before, i do not pretend to support or justify them: but i sincerely wish, for the sake of the manufactures and commerce of great britain, and for the sake of the strength, which a firm union with our growing colonies would give us, that these people had never been thus needlessly driven out of their senses. i am, yours, &c. f. s.[ ] footnotes: [ ] this letter first appeared in a london paper, january , , and was afterwards reprinted as a postscript to the true sentiments of america, printed for almon, . b. v. [ ] mr. george grenville. b. v. [ ] mr. charles townsend. b. v. [ ] i shall here give the reader the note at the end of the fourth paragraph of the farmer's seventh letter (written by mr. dickenson.) "many remarkable instances might be produced of the extraordinary inattention with which bills of great importance concerning these colonies have passed in parliament; which is owing, as it is supposed, to the bills being brought in, by the persons who have points to carry, so artfully framed, that it is not easy for the members in general in the haste of business, to discover their tendency. "the following instances show the truth of this remark. "when mr. grenville, in the violence of reformation and innovation, formed the th george iii. chap. th, for regulating the american trade, the word 'ireland' was dropt in the clause relating to our iron and lumber, so that we could send these articles to no other part of europe, but to great britain. this was so unreasonable a restriction, and so contrary to the sentiments of the legislature, for many years before, that it is surprising it should not have been taken notice of in the house. however, the bill passed into a law. but when the matter was explained, this restriction was taken off in a subsequent act. "i cannot say, how long after the taking off this restriction, as i have not the acts, but i think in less than eighteen months, another act of parliament passed, in which the word 'ireland' was left out as it had been before. the matter being a second time explained was a second time regulated. "now if it be considered, that the omission mentioned, struck off, with one word, so very great a part of our trade, it must appear remarkable: and equally so is the method by which rice became an enumerated commodity, and therefore could be carried to great britain only. "the enumeration was obtained, (says mr. gee on trade, p. ) by one cole, a captain of a ship, employed by a company then trading to carolina; for several ships going from england thither, and purchasing rice for portugal, prevented the aforesaid captain of a loading. upon his coming home he possessed one mr. lowndes, a member of parliament, (who was frequently employed to prepare bills) with an opinion, that carrying rice directly to portugal was a prejudice to the trade of england, and privately got a clause into an act to make it an enumerated commodity, by which means he secured a freight to himself. but the consequence proved a vast loss to the nation. "i find that this clause, 'privately got into an act, for the benefit of captain cole, to the vast loss of the nation,' is foisted into the d anne, chapter th, intitled, 'an act for granting to her majesty a further subsidy on wines and merchandizes imported,' with which it has no more connection, than with th edward i. th and th of henry viii. or the th charles ii. which provide that no person shall be taxed but by himself or his representatives." b. v. [ ] f. s. possibly means franklin's seal. the paper, however, is undoubtedly the production of dr. franklin. in the _collection of tracts on the subjects of taxing the british colonies in america, and regulating their trade_ (printed in , in vols. vo. by almon) i find _two_ papers, said there to have been published originally in , and to have been drawn up by a club of american merchants, at the head of whom were sir william keith (governor of pensylvania), joshua gee, and many other eminent persons. the _first_ paper proposes the raising a small body of regular troops under the command of an officer appointed by the crown and independent of the governors (who were nevertheless to assist him in council on emergent occasions) in order to protect the indian trade, and take care of the boundaries and back settlements. they were to be supported by a revenue to be established by _act of parliament_, in america; which revenue was to arise out of a duty on _stampt paper and parchment_. the _second_ paper goes into the particulars of this proposed stamp duty, offers reasons for extending it over all the british plantations, and recites its supposed advantages. if these papers are at all genuine (a fact about which i am not in the least informed) mr. george grenville does not appear to have been original in conceiving _stamps_ as a proper subject for his new tax. see ib. vol. i. b. v. _letter concerning the gratitude of america, and the probability and effects of an union with great britain; and concerning the repeal or suspension of the stamp-act._[ ] _jan. , ._ 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 them, to be permitted to send members to parliament; and would have asked for that privilege, if they could have had the 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 expence of great britain, and the colonies only reaped the benefit, without hitherto sharing the burthen, 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 made _more extraordinary_ efforts, in proportion to their abilities, than britain did; that they raised, paid and clothed, for five or six years, near , men, besides providing for other services (as building forts, equipping guard-ships, 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 , _l._ sterling every year; which amounted only to about two fifths of their expence; 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 burthens 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 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 expence 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, re-establish 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. 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. footnotes: [ ] the name of the person to whom this letter is addressed cannot be made out in the original copy. the letter, to which it is a reply, appears to have contained the letter of some third person equally unknown to the editor. b. v. [ ] it was however agreed to in the same year, viz. in . b. v. _letter from governor pownall to dr. franklin, concerning an equal communication of rights, privileges, &c. to america by great britain._[ ] dear sir, the following _objection_ against communicating to the colonies the rights, privileges, and powers of the realm, as to parts of the realm, has been made. i have been endeavouring to obviate it, and i communicate [it] to you, in hopes of your promised assistance. if, _say the objectors_, we communicate to the colonies the power of sending representatives, and in consequence expect them to participate in an _equal share and proportion_ of all our taxes, we must grant to them all the powers of trade and manufacturing, which any other parts of the realm within the isle of great britain enjoy: if so, perchance the profits of the atlantic commerce may converge to some centre in america; to boston, new-york, philadelphia, or to some of the isles: if so, then the natural and artificial produce of the colonies, and in course of consequences the landed interest of the colonies, will be promoted; while the natural and artificial produce and landed interest of great britain will be depressed, to its utter ruin and destruction; and consequently the balance of the power of government, although still _within the realm_, will be _locally_ transferred from great britain to the colonies. which consequence, however it may suit a citizen of the world, must be folly and madness to a briton.--my fit is gone off, and though weak, both from the gout and a concomitant and very ugly fever, i am much better.--would be glad to see you. your friend, j. pownall. footnote: [ ] this letter bears no date. it was written possibly about the time that governor pownall was engaged in publishing his book on the _administration of the colonies_. b. v. _on the back of the foregoing letter of governor pownall, are the following minutes, by dr. franklin._ this _objection_ goes upon the supposition, that whatever the colonies gain, britain must lose; and that if the _colonies_ can be kept from gaining an advantage, _britain will gain it_:-- if the colonies are fitter for a particular trade than britain, they should have it, and britain apply to what it is more fit for. the whole empire is a gainer. and if britain is not so fit or so well situated for a particular advantage, _other_ countries will get it, _if the colonies do not_. thus ireland was forbid the woollen manufacture and remains poor: but this has given to the french the trade and wealth ireland might have gained for the british empire. the government cannot _long_ be retained without the union. which is best (supposing your case) to have a total separation, or a change of the seat of government?--it by no means follows, that promoting and advancing the landed interest in america will depress that of britain: the contrary has always been the fact. advantageous situations and circumstances will always secure and fix manufactures: sheffield against all europe for these years past.-- impracticability. danger of innovation. * * * * * _the examination of dr. benjamin franklin before the english house of commons, in february, , relative to the repeal of the american stamp act._[ ] _q._ what is your name, and place of abode? _a._ franklin, of philadelphia. _q._ do the americans pay any considerable taxes among themselves? _a._ certainly many, and very heavy taxes. _q._ what are the present taxes in pensylvania, laid by the laws of the colony? _a._ there are taxes on all estates real and personal; a poll tax; a tax on all offices, professions, trades and businesses, according to their profits; an excise on all wine, rum, and other spirits; and a duty of ten pounds per head on all negroes imported, with some other duties. _q._ for what purposes are those taxes laid? _a._ for the support of the civil and military establishments of the country, and to discharge the heavy debt contracted in the last war. _q._ how long are those taxes to continue? _a._ those for discharging the debt are to continue till , and longer, if the debt should not be then all discharged. the others must always continue. _q._ was it not expected that the debt would have been sooner discharged? _a._ it was, when the peace was made with france and spain. but a fresh war breaking out with the indians, a fresh load of debt was incurred; and the taxes, of course, continued longer by a new law. _q._ are not all the people very able to pay those taxes? _a._ no. the frontier counties, all along the continent, having been frequently ravaged by the enemy and greatly impoverished, are able to pay very little tax. and therefore, in consideration of their distresses, our late tax laws do expressly favour those counties, excusing the sufferers; and i suppose the same is done in other governments. _q._ are not you concerned in the management of the _post-office_ in america? _a._ yes. i am deputy post-master general of north america. _q._ don't you think the distribution of stamps _by post_ to all the inhabitants very practicable, if there was no opposition? _a._ the posts only go along the sea-coasts; they do not, except in a few instances, go back into the country; and if they did, sending for stamps by post would occasion an expence of postage, amounting, in many cases, to much more than that of the stamps themselves. _q._ are you acquainted with newfoundland? _a._ i never was there. _q._ do you know whether there are any post-roads on that island? _a._ i have heard that there are no roads at all, but that the communication between one settlement and another is by sea only. _q._ can you disperse the stamps by post in canada? _a._ there is only a post between montreal and quebec. the inhabitants live so scattered and remote from each other in that vast country, that posts cannot be supported among them, and therefore they cannot get stamps per post. the _english colonies_ too along the frontiers are very thinly settled. _q._ from the thinness of the back settlements, would not the stamp act be extremely inconvenient to the inhabitants, if executed? _a._ to be sure it would; as many of the inhabitants could not get stamps when they had occasion for them, without taking long journeys, and spending perhaps three or four pounds, that the crown might get six-pence. _q._ are not the colonies, from their circumstances, very able to pay the stamp duty? _a._ in my opinion there is not gold and silver enough in the colonies to pay the stamp duty for one year.[ ] _q._ don't you know that the money arising from the stamps was all to be laid out in america? _a._ i know it is appropriated by the act to the american service; but it will be spent in the conquered colonies, where the soldiers are; not in the colonies that pay it. _q._ is there not a balance of trade due from the colonies where the troops are posted, that will bring back the money to the old colonies? _a._ i think not. i believe very little would come back. i know of no trade likely to bring it back. i think it would come from the colonies where it was spent, directly to england; for i have always observed, that in every colony the more plenty the means of remittance to england, the more goods are sent for, and the more trade with england carried on. _q._ what number of white inhabitants do you think there are in pensylvania? _a._ i suppose there may be about one hundred and sixty thousand. _q._ what number of them are quakers? _a._ perhaps a third. _q._ what number of germans? _a._ perhaps another third; but i cannot speak with certainty. _q._ have any number of the germans seen service, as soldiers, in europe? _a._ yes, many of them, both in europe and america. _q._ are they as much dissatisfied with the stamp duty as the english? _a._ yes, and more; and with reason, as their stamps are, in many cases, to be double[ ]. _q._ how many white men do you suppose there are in north america? _a._ about three hundred thousand, from sixteen to sixty years of age[ ]. _q._ what may be the amount of one year's imports into pensylvania from britain? _a._ i have been informed that our merchants compute the imports from britain to be above , _l._ _q._ what may be the amount of the produce of your province exported to britain? _a._ it must be small, as we produce little that is wanted in britain. i suppose it cannot exceed , _l._ _q._ how then do you pay the balance? _a._ the balance is paid by our produce carried to the west indies (and sold in our own islands, or to the french, spaniards, danes, and dutch)--by the same [produce] carried to other colonies in north america, (as to new england, nova scotia, newfoundland, carolina, and georgia)--by the same, carried to different parts of europe, (as spain, portugal, and italy.) in all which places we receive either money, bills of exchange, or commodities that suit for remittance to britain; which, together with all the profits on the industry of our merchants and mariners, arising in those circuitous voyages, and the freights made by their ships, centre finally in britain to discharge the balance, and pay for british manufactures continually used in the province, or sold to foreigners by our traders. _q._ have you heard of any difficulties lately laid on the spanish trade? _a._ yes, i have heard that it has been greatly obstructed by some new regulations, and by the english men of war and cutters stationed all along the coast in america. _q._ do you think it right that america should be protected by this country, and pay no part of the expence? _a._ that is not the case. the colonies raised, clothed, and paid, during the last war, near twenty-five thousand men, and spent many millions. _q._ were you not reimbursed by parliament? _a._ we were only reimbursed what, in your opinion, we had advanced beyond our proportion, or beyond what might reasonably be expected from us; and it was a very small part of what we spent. pensylvania, in particular, disbursed about , _l._ and the reimbursements, in the whole, did not exceed , _l._ _q._ you have said, that you pay heavy taxes in pensylvania, what do they amount to in the pound? _a._ the tax on all estates, real and personal, is eighteen pence in the pound, fully rated; and the tax on the profits of trades and professions, with other taxes, do, i suppose, make full half-a-crown in the pound. _q._ do you know any thing of the _rate of exchange in_ pensylvania, and whether it has fallen lately? _a._ it is commonly from one hundred and seventy to one hundred and seventy-five. i have heard, that it has fallen lately from one hundred and seventy-five to one hundred sixty-two and a half; owing, i suppose, to their lessening their orders for goods; and when their debts to this country are paid, i think the exchange will probably be at par. _q._ do not you think the people of america would submit to pay the stamp duty, if it was moderated? _a._ no, never, unless compelled by force of arms. _q._ are not the taxes in pensylvania laid on unequally, in order to burthen the english trade; particularly the tax on professions and business? _a._ it is not more burthensome in proportion, than the tax on lands. it is intended, and supposed to take an equal proportion of profits. _q._ how is the assembly composed? of what kinds of people are the members; landholders or traders? _a._ it is composed of landholders, merchants, and artificers. _q._ are not the majority landholders? _a._ i believe they are. _q._ do not they, as much as possible, shift the tax off from the land, to ease that, and lay the burthen heavier on trade? _a._ i have never understood it so. i never heard such a thing suggested. and indeed an attempt of that kind could answer no purpose. the merchant or trader is always skilled in figures, and ready with his pen and ink. if unequal burthens are laid on his trade, he puts an additional price on his goods; and the consumers, who are chiefly landholders, finally pay the greatest part, if not the whole. _q._ what was the temper of america towards great britain _before the year_ [ ]? _a._ the best in the world. they submitted willingly to the government of the crown, and paid, in their courts, obedience to acts of parliament. numerous as the people are in the several old provinces, they cost you nothing in forts, citadels, garrisons, or armies, to keep them in subjection. they were governed by this country at the expence only of a little pen, ink, and paper: they were led by a thread. they had not only a respect, but an affection for great britain; for its laws, its customs, and manners, and even a fondness for its fashions, that greatly increased the commerce. natives of britain were always treated with particular regard; to be an _old england-man_ was, of itself, a character of some respect, and gave a kind of rank among us. _q._ and what is their temper now? _a._ o, very much altered. _q._ did you ever hear the authority of parliament to make laws for america questioned till lately? _a._ the authority of parliament was allowed to be valid in all laws, except such as should lay internal taxes. it was never disputed in laying duties to regulate commerce. _q._ in what proportion hath population increased in america? _a._ i think the inhabitants of all the provinces together, taken at a medium, double in about twenty-five years. but their demand for british manufactures increases much faster; as the consumption is not merely in proportion to their numbers, but grows with the growing abilities of the same numbers to pay for them. in , the whole importation from britain to pensylvania was but about , _l._ sterling; it is now near half a million. _q._ in what light did the people of america use to consider the parliament of great britain? _a._ they considered the parliament as the great bulwark and security of their liberties and privileges, and always spoke of it with the utmost respect and veneration. arbitrary ministers, they thought, might possibly, at times, attempt to oppress them; but they relied on it, that the parliament, on application, would always give redress. they remembered, with gratitude, a strong instance of this, when a bill was brought into parliament, with a clause, to make royal instructions laws in the colonies, which the house of commons would not pass, and it was thrown out. _q._ and have they not still the same respect for parliament? _a._ no, it is greatly lessened. _q._ to what causes is that owing? _a._ to a concurrence of causes; the restraints lately laid on their trade, by which the bringing of foreign gold and silver into [the] colonies was prevented; the prohibition of making paper-money among themselves,[ ] and then demanding a new and heavy tax by stamps, taking away, at the same time, trials by juries, and refusing to receive and hear their humble petitions. _q._ don't you think they would submit to the stamp act, if it was modified, the obnoxious parts taken out, and the duty reduced to some particulars, of small moment? _a._ no, they will never submit to it. _q._ what do you think is the reason that the people in america increase faster than in england? _a._ because they marry younger, and more generally. _q._ why so? _a._ because any young couple, that are industrious, may easily obtain land of their own, on which they can raise a family. _q._ are not the lower rank of people more at their ease in america than in england? _a._ they may be so, if they are sober and diligent; as they are better paid for their labour. _q._ what is your opinion of a future tax, imposed on the same principle with that of the stamp act? how would the americans receive it? _a._ just as they do this. they would not pay it. _q._ have not you heard of the resolutions of this house, and of the house of lords, asserting the right of parliament relating to america, including a power to tax the people there? _a._ yes, i have heard of such resolutions. _q._ what will be the opinion of the americans on those resolutions? _a._ they will think them unconstitutional and unjust. _q._ was it an opinion in america before , that the parliament had no right to lay taxes and duties there? _a._ i never heard any objection to the right of laying duties to regulate commerce, but a right to lay internal taxes was never supposed to be in parliament, as we are not represented there. _q._ on what do you found your opinion, that the people in america made any such distinction? _a._ i know that whenever the subject has occurred in conversation where i have been present, it has appeared to be the opinion of every one, that we could not be taxed in a parliament where we were not represented. but the payment of duties laid by act of parliament as regulations of commerce, was never disputed. _q._ but can you name any act of assembly, or public act of any of your governments, that made such distinction? _a._ i do not know that there was any; i think there was never an occasion to make any such act, till now that you have attempted to tax us: _that_ has occasioned resolutions of assembly, declaring the distinction, in which i think every assembly on the continent, and every member in every assembly, have been unanimous. _q._ what then could occasion conversations on that subject before that time? _a._ there was in a proposition made (i think it came from hence) that in case of a war, which was then apprehended, the governors of the colonies should meet, and order the levying of troops, building of forts, and taking every other necessary measure for the general defence; and should draw on the treasury here for the sums expended; which were afterwards to be raised in the colonies by a general tax, to be laid on them by _act of parliament_. this occasioned a good deal of conversation on the subject; and the general opinion was, that the parliament neither would nor could lay any tax on us, till we were duly represented in parliament; because it was not just, nor agreeable to the nature of an english constitution. _q._ don't you know there was a time in new york, when it was under consideration to make an application to parliament to lay taxes on that colony, upon a deficiency arising from the assembly's refusing or neglecting to raise the necessary supplies for the support of the civil government? _a._ i never heard of it. _q._ there was such an application under consideration in new york:--and do you apprehend they could suppose the right of parliament to lay a tax in america was only local, and confined to the case of a deficiency in a particular colony, by a refusal of its assembly to raise the necessary supplies? _a._ they could not suppose such a case, as that the assembly would not raise the necessary supplies to support its own government. an assembly that would refuse it must want common sense; which cannot be supposed. i think there was never any such case at new york, and that it must be a misrepresentation, or the fact must be misunderstood. i know there have been some attempts, by ministerial instructions from hence, to oblige the assemblies to settle permanent salaries on governors, which they wisely refused to do; but i believe no assembly of new york, or any other colony, ever refused duly to support government by proper allowances, from time to time, to public officers. _q._ but in case a governor, acting by instruction, should call on an assembly to raise the necessary supplies, and the assembly should refuse to do it, do you not think it would then be for the good of the people of the colony, as well as necessary to government, that the parliament should tax them? _a._ i do not think it would be necessary. if an assembly could possibly be so absurd, as to refuse raising the supplies requisite for the maintenance of government among them, they could not long remain in such a situation; the disorders and confusion occasioned by it must soon bring them to reason. _q._ if it should not, ought not the right to be in great britain of applying a remedy? _a._ a right, only to be used in such a case, i should have no objection to; supposing it to be used merely for the good of the people of the colony. _q._ but who is to judge of that, britain or the colony? _a._ those that feel can best judge. _q._ you say the colonies have always submitted to external taxes, and object to the right of parliament only in laying internal taxes; now can you show, that there is any kind of _difference between the two taxes_ to the colony on which they may be laid? _a._ i think the difference is very great. an _external_ tax is a duty laid on commodities imported; that duty is added to the first cost and other charges on the commodity, and, when it is offered to sale, makes a part of the price. if the people do not like it at that price, they refuse it; they are not obliged to pay it. but an _internal_ tax is forced from the people without their consent, if not laid by their own representatives. the stamp act says, we shall have no commerce, make no exchange of property with each other, neither purchase nor grant, nor recover debts; we shall neither marry nor make our wills, unless we pay such and such sums; and thus it is intended to extort our money from us, or ruin us by the consequences of refusing to pay it. _q._ but supposing the external tax or duty to be laid on the necessaries of life imported into your colony, will not that be the same thing in its effects as an internal tax? _a._ i do not know a single article imported into the _northern_ colonies, but what they can either do without, or make themselves. _q._ don't you think cloth from england absolutely necessary to them? _a._ no, by no means absolutely necessary; with industry and good management, they may very well supply themselves with all they want. _q._ will it not take a long time to establish that manufacture among them; and must they not in the mean while suffer greatly? _a._ i think not. they have made a surprising progress already. and i am of opinion, that before their old clothes are worn out, they will have new ones of their own making. _q._ can they possibly find wool enough in north america? _a._ they have taken steps to increase the wool. they entered into general combinations to eat no more lamb; and very few lambs were killed last year. this course, persisted in, will soon make a prodigious difference in the quantity of wool. and the establishing of great manufactories, like those in the clothing towns here, is not necessary, as it is where the business is to be carried on for the purposes of trade. the people will all spin, and work for themselves, in their own houses. _q._ can there be wool and manufacture enough in one or two years? _a._ in three years, i think there may. _q._ does not the severity of the winter, in the northern colonies, occasion the wool to be of bad quality? _a._ no, the wool is very fine and good. _q._ in the more southern colonies, as in virginia, don't you know, that the wool is coarse, and only a kind of hair? _a._ i don't know it. i never heard it. yet i have been sometimes in virginia. i cannot say i ever took particular notice of the wool there, but i believe it is good, though i cannot speak positively of it; but virginia, and the colonies south of it, have less occasion for wool; their winters are short, and not very severe; and they can very well clothe themselves with linen and cotton of their own raising for the rest of the year. _q._ are not the people in the more northern colonies obliged to fodder their sheep all the winter? _a._ in some of the most northern colonies they may be obliged to do it, some part of the winter. _q._ considering the resolutions of parliament[ ], _as to the right_; do you think, if the stamp act is repealed, that the north americans will be satisfied? _a._ i believe they will. _q._ why do you think so? _a._ i think the resolutions of _right_ will give them very little concern, if they are never attempted to be carried into practice. the colonies will probably consider themselves in the same situation, in that respect, with ireland: they know you claim the same right with regard to ireland, but you never exercise it. and they may believe you never will exercise it in the colonies, any more than in ireland, unless on some very extraordinary occasion. _q._ but who are to be the judges of that extraordinary occasion? is not the parliament? _a._ though the parliament may judge of the occasion, the people will think it can never exercise such right, till representatives from the colonies are admitted into parliament; and that, whenever the occasion arises, representatives _will_ be ordered. _q._ did you never hear that maryland, during the last war, had refused to furnish a quota towards the common defence? _a._ maryland has been much misrepresented in that matter. maryland, to my knowledge, never refused to contribute, or grant aids to the crown. the assemblies, every year during the war, voted considerable sums, and formed bills to raise them. the bills were, according to the constitution of that province, sent up to the council, or upper house, for concurrence, that they might be presented to the governor, in order to be enacted into laws. unhappy disputes between the two houses--arising from the defects of that constitution principally--rendered all the bills but one or two abortive. the proprietary's council rejected them. it is true, maryland did contribute its proportion; but it was, in my opinion, the fault of the government, not of the people. _q._ was it not talked of in the other provinces as a proper measure, to apply to parliament to compel them? _a._ i have heard such discourse; but as it was well known, that the people were not to blame, no such application was ever made, nor any step taken towards it. _q._ was it not proposed at a public meeting? _a._ not that i know of. _q._ do you remember the abolishing of the paper-currency in new england, by act of assembly? _a._ i do remember its being abolished in the massachusett's bay. _q._ was not lieutenant-governor hutchinson principally concerned in that transaction? _a._ i have heard so. _q._ was it not at that time a very unpopular law? _a._ i believe it might, though i can say little about it, as i lived at a distance from that province. _q._ was not the _scarcity of gold and silver_ an argument used against abolishing the paper? _a._ i suppose it was[ ]. _q._ what is the present opinion there of that law? is it as unpopular as it was at first? _a._ i think it is not. _q._ have not instructions from hence been sometimes sent over to governors, highly oppressive and unpolitical? _a._ yes. _q._ have not some governors dispensed with them for that reason? _a._ yes, i have heard so. _q._ did the americans ever dispute the controling power of parliament to regulate the commerce? _a._ no. _q._ can any thing less than a military force carry the stamp act into execution? _a._ i do not see how a military force can be applied to that purpose. _q._ why may it not? _a._ suppose a military force sent into america, they will find nobody in arms; what are they then to do? they cannot force a man to take stamps who chooses to do without them. they will not find a rebellion: they may indeed make one. _q._ if the act is not repealed, what do you think will be the consequences? _a._ a total loss of the respect and affection the people of america bear to this country, and of all the commerce that depends on that respect and affection. _q._ how can the commerce be affected? _a._ you will find, that if the act is not repealed, they will take very little of your manufactures in a short time. _q._ is it in their power to do without them? _a._ i think they may very well do without them. _q._ is it their interest not to take them? _a._ the goods they take from britain are either necessaries, mere conveniences, or superfluities. the first, as cloth, &c. with a little industry they can make at home; the second they can do without, till they are able to provide them among themselves; and the last, which are much the greatest part, they will strike off immediately. they are mere articles of fashion, purchased and consumed, because the fashion in a respected country; but will now be detested and rejected. the people have already struck off, by general agreement, the use of all goods fashionable in mournings, and many thousand pounds worth are sent back as unsaleable. _q._ is it their interest to make cloth at home? _a._ i think they may at present get it cheaper from britain, i mean of the same fineness and neatness of workmanship: but when one considers other circumstances, the restraints on their trade, and the difficulty of making remittances, it is their interest to make every thing. _q._ suppose an act of internal regulations connected with a tax, how would they receive it? _a._ i think it would be objected to. _q._ then no regulation with a tax would be submitted to? _a._ their opinion is, that when aids to the crown are wanted, they are to be asked of the several assemblies, according to the old established usage; who will, as they always have done, grant them freely. and that their money ought not to be given away, without their consent, by persons at a distance, unacquainted with their circumstances and abilities. the granting aids to the crown is the only means they have of recommending themselves to their sovereign; and they think it extremely hard and unjust, that a body of men, in which they have no representatives, should make a merit to itself of giving and granting what is not its own, but theirs; and deprive them of a right they esteem of the utmost value and importance, as it is the security of all their other rights. _q._ but is not the post-office, which they have long received, a tax as well as a regulation? _a._ no; the money paid for the postage of a letter is not of the nature of a tax; it is merely a _quantum meruit_ for a service done; no person is compellable to pay the money, if he does not choose to receive the service. a man may still, as before the act, send his letter by a servant, a special messenger, or a friend, if he thinks it cheaper and safer. _q._ but do they not consider the regulations of the post-office, by the act of last year, as a tax? _a._ by the regulations of last year the rate of postage was generally abated near thirty per cent through all america; they certainly cannot consider such abatement _as a tax_. _q._ if an excise was laid by parliament, which they might likewise avoid paying, by not consuming the articles excised, would they then not object to it? _a._ they would certainly object to it, as an excise is unconnected with any service done, and is merely an aid, which they think ought to be asked of them, and granted by them, if they are to pay it; and can be granted for them by no others whatsoever, whom they have not impowered for that purpose. _q._ you say, they do not object to the right of parliament, in laying duties on goods to be paid on their importation: now, is there any kind of difference between a duty on the _importation_ of goods, and an excise on their _consumption_? _a._ yes; a very material one: an excise, for the reasons i have just mentioned, they think you can have no right to lay within their country. but _the sea_ is yours; you maintain, by your fleets, the safety of navigation in it, and keep it clear of pirates; you may have therefore a natural and equitable right to some _toll_ or duty on merchandizes carried through that part of your dominions, towards defraying the expence you are at in ships to maintain the safety of that carriage. _q._ does this reasoning hold in the case of a duty laid on the produce of their lands _exported_? and would they not then object to such a duty? _a._ if it tended to make the produce so much dearer abroad, as to lessen the demand for it, to be sure they would object to such a duty; not to your right of laying it, but they would complain of it as a burthen, and petition you to lighten it. _q._ is not the duty paid on the tobacco exported, a duty of that kind? _a._ that, i think, is only on tobacco carried coast-wise, from one colony to another, and appropriated as a fund for supporting the college at williamsburgh, in virginia. _q._ have not the assemblies in the west indies the same natural rights with those in north america? _a._ undoubtedly. _q._ and is there not a tax laid there on their sugars exported? _a._ i am not much acquainted with the west indies; but the duty of four and a half per cent on sugars exported was, i believe, granted by their own assemblies.[ ] _q._ how much is the poll-tax in your province laid on unmarried men? _a._ it is, i think, fifteen shillings, to be paid by every single freeman, upwards of twenty-one years old. _q._ what is the annual amount of _all_ the taxes in pensylvania? _a._ i suppose about , _l._ sterling. _q._ supposing the stamp act continued and enforced, do you imagine that ill-humour will induce the americans to give as much for worse manufactures of their own, and use them, preferably to better of ours? _a._ yes, i think so. people will pay as freely to gratify one passion as another, their resentment as their pride. _q._ would the people at boston discontinue their trade? _a._ the merchants are a very small number compared with the body of the people, and must discontinue their trade, if nobody will buy their goods. _q._ what are the body of the people in the colonies? _a._ they are farmers, husbandmen, or planters. _q._ would they suffer the produce of their lands to rot? _a._ no; but they would not raise so much. they would manufacture more, and plow less. _q._ would they live without the administration of justice in civil matters, and suffer all the inconveniencies of such a situation for any considerable time, rather than take the stamps, supposing the stamps were protected by a sufficient force, where every one might have them? _a._ i think the supposition impracticable, that the stamps should be so protected as that every one might have them. the act requires sub-distributors to be appointed in every county town, district, and village, and they would be necessary. but the _principal_ distributors, who were to have had a considerable profit on the whole, have not thought it worth while to continue in the office; and i think it impossible to find sub-distributors fit to be trusted, who, for the trifling profit that must come to their share, would incur the odium, and run the hazard that would attend it; and if they could be found, i think it impracticable to protect the stamps in so many distant and remote places. _q._ but in places where they could be protected, would not the people use them, rather than remain in such a situation, unable to obtain any right, or recover, by law, any debt? _a._ it is hard to say what they would do. i can only judge what other people will think, and how they will act, by what i feel within myself. i have a great many debts due to me in america, and i had rather they should remain unrecoverable by any law, than submit to the stamp act. they will be debts of honour. it is my opinion the people will either continue in that situation, or find some way to extricate themselves, perhaps by generally agreeing to proceed in the courts without stamps. _q._ what do you think a sufficient military force to protect the distribution of the stamps in every part of america? _a._ a very great force, i can't say what, if the disposition of america is for a general resistance. _q._ what is the number of men in america able to bear arms, or of disciplined militia? _a._ there are, i suppose, at least---- [_question objected to. he withdrew. called in again._] _q._ is the american stamp act an equal tax on the country? _a._ i think not. _q._ why so? _a._ the greatest part of the money must arise from law-suits for the recovery of debts, and be paid by the lower sort of people, who were too poor easily to pay their debts. it is therefore a heavy tax on the poor, and a tax upon them for being poor. _q._ but will not this increase of expence be a means of lessening the number of law-suits? _a._ i think not; for as the costs all fall upon the debtor, and are to be paid by him, they would be no discouragement to the creditor to bring his action. _q._ would it not have the effect of excessive usury? _a._ yes, as an oppression of the debtor. _q._ how many ships are there laden annually in north america with _flax-seed_ for ireland? _a._ i cannot speak to the number of ships, but i know, that in ten thousand hogsheads of flax-seed, each containing seven bushels, were exported from philadelphia to ireland. i suppose the quantity is greatly increased since that time, and it is understood, that the exportation from new york is equal to that from philadelphia. _q._ what becomes of the flax that grows with that flax-seed? _a._ they manufacture some into coarse, and some into a middling kind of linen. _q._ are there any _slitting-mills_ in america?[ ] _a._ i think there are three, but i believe only one at present employed. i suppose they will all be set to work, if the interruption of the trade continues. _q._ are there any _fulling-mills_ there? _a._ a great many. _q._ did you never hear, that a great quantity of stockings were contracted for, for the army, during the war, and manufactured in philadelphia? _a._ i have heard so. _q._ if the stamp-act should be repealed, would not the americans think they could oblige the parliament to repeal every external tax-law now in force? _a._ it is hard to answer questions of what people at such a distance will think. _q._ but what do you imagine they will think were the motives of repealing the act? _a._ i suppose they will think, that it was repealed from a conviction of its inexpediency; and they will rely upon it, that while the same inexpediency subsists, you will never attempt to make such another. _q._ what do you mean by its inexpediency? _a._ i mean its inexpediency on several accounts, the poverty and inability of those who were to pay the tax, the general discontent it has occasioned, and the impracticability of enforcing it. _q._ if the act should be repealed, and the legislature should show its resentment to the opposers of the stamp-act, would the colonies acquiesce in the authority of the legislature? what is your opinion they would do? _a._ i don't doubt at all, that if the legislature repeal the stamp-act, the colonies will acquiesce in the authority. _q._ but if the legislature should think fit to ascertain its right to lay taxes, by any act laying a small tax, contrary to their opinion, would they submit to pay the tax? _a._ the proceedings of the people in america have been considered too much together. the proceedings of the assemblies have been very different from those of the mobs, and should be distinguished, as having no connection with each other. the _assemblies_ have only peaceably resolved what they take to be their rights: they have taken no measures for opposition by force, they have not built a fort, raised a man, or provided a grain of ammunition, in order to such opposition. the ring-leaders of riots, they think ought to be punished; they would punish them themselves, if they could. every sober, sensible man would wish to see rioters punished, as otherwise peaceable people have no security of person or estate.--but as to an internal tax, how small soever, laid by the legislature here on the people there, while they have no representatives in this legislature, i think it will never be submitted to: they will oppose it to the last.--they do not consider it as at all necessary for you to raise money on them by your taxes; because they are, and always have been, ready to raise money by taxes among themselves, and to grant large sums, equal to their abilities, upon requisition from the crown. they have not only granted equal to their abilities, but, during all the last war, they granted far beyond their abilities, and beyond their proportion with this country (you yourselves being judges) to the amount of many hundred thousand pounds; and this they did freely and readily, only on a sort of promise, from the secretary of state, that it should be recommended to parliament to make them compensation. it was accordingly recommended to parliament, in the most honourable manner for them. america has been greatly misrepresented and abused here, in papers, and pamphlets, and speeches, as ungrateful, and unreasonable, and unjust; in having put this nation to immense expence for their defence, and refusing to bear any part of that expence. the colonies raised, paid, and clothed, near twenty-five thousand men during the last war; a number equal to those sent from britain, and far beyond their proportion; they went deeply into debt in doing this, and all their taxes and estates are mortgaged, for many years to come, for discharging that debt. government here was at that time very sensible of this. the colonies were recommended to parliament. every year the king sent down to the house a written message to this purpose, "that his majesty, being highly sensible of the zeal and vigour with which his faithful subjects in north america had exerted themselves, in defence of his majesty's just rights and possessions; recommended it to the house to take the same into consideration, and enable him to give them a proper compensation." you will find those messages on your own journals every year of the war to the very last; and you did accordingly give , _l._ annually to the crown, to be distributed in such compensation to the colonies. this is the strongest of all proofs that the colonies, far from being unwilling to bear a share of the burthen, did exceed their proportion; for if they had done less, or had only equalled their proportion, there would have been no room or reason for compensation. indeed the sums, reimbursed them, were by no means adequate to the expence they incurred beyond their proportion: but they never murmured at that; they esteemed their sovereign's approbation of their zeal and fidelity, and the approbation of this house, far beyond any other kind of compensation, therefore there was no occasion for this act, to force money from a willing people: they had not refused giving money for the _purposes_ of the act, no requisition had been made, they were always willing and ready to do what could reasonably be expected from them, and in this light they wish to be considered. _q._ but suppose great britain should be engaged in a _war in europe_, would north america contribute to the support of it? _a._ i do think they would, as far as their circumstances would permit. they consider themselves as a part of the british empire, and as having one common interest with it: they may be looked on here as foreigners, but they do not consider themselves as such. they are zealous for the honour and prosperity of this nation; and, while they are well used, will always be ready to support it, as far as their little power goes.--in they were called upon to assist in the expedition against carthagena, and they sent three thousand men to join your army.[ ] it is true carthagena is in america, but as remote from the northern colonies, as if it had been in europe. they make no distinction of wars, as to their duty of assisting in them. i know the _last war_ is commonly spoken of here as entered into for the defence, or for the sake of the people in america. i think it is quite misunderstood. it began about the limits between canada and nova scotia; about territories to which the _crown_ indeed laid claim, but [which] were not claimed by any british _colony_; none of the lands had been granted to any colonist, we had therefore no particular concern or interest in that dispute.--as to the ohio, the contest there began about your right of trading in the indian country, a right you had by the treaty of utretcht, which the french infringed; they seized the traders and their goods, which were your manufactures; they took a fort which a company of your merchants, and their factors and correspondents had erected there, to secure that trade. braddock was sent with an army to re-take that fort (which was looked on here as another incroachment on the king's territory) and to protect your trade. it was not till after his defeat that the colonies were attacked.[ ] they were before in perfect peace with both french and indians; the troops were not therefore sent for their defence. the trade with the indians, though carried on in america, is not an _american interest_. the people of america are chiefly farmers and planters, scarce any thing that they raise or produce is an article of commerce with the indians. the indian trade is a _british interest_; it is carried on with british manufactures, for the profit of british merchants and manufacturers; therefore the war, as it commenced for the defence of territories of the crown (the property of no american) and for the defence of a trade purely british, was really a british war--and yet the people of america made no scruple of contributing their utmost towards carrying it on, and bringing it to a happy conclusion. _q._ do you think then that the taking possession of the king's territorial rights, and _strengthening the frontiers_, is not an american interest? _a._ not particularly, but conjointly a british and an american interest. _q._ you will not deny that the preceding war, the _war with spain_, was entered into for the sake of america; was it not _occasioned by captures made in the american_ seas? _a._ yes; captures of ships carrying on the british trade there with british manufactures. _q._ was not the _late war with the_ indians, _since the peace with france_, a war for america only? _a._ yes; it was more particularly for america than the former; but it was rather a consequence or remains of the former war, the indians not having been thoroughly pacified; and the americans bore by much the greatest share of the expence. it was put an end to by the army under general bouquet; there were not above three hundred regulars in that army, and above one thousand pensylvanians. _q._ is it not necessary to send troops to america, to defend the americans against the indians? _a._ no, by no means; it never was necessary. they defended themselves when they were but an handful, and the indians much more numerous. they continually gained ground, and have driven the indians over the mountains, without any troops sent to their assistance from this country. and can it be thought necessary now to send troops for their defence from those diminished indian tribes, when the colonies are become so populous, and so strong? there is not the least occasion for it, they are very able to defend themselves. _q._ do you say there were no more than three hundred regular troops employed in the late indian war? _a._ not on the ohio, or the frontiers of pensylvania, which was the chief part of the war that affected the colonies. there were garrisons at niagara, fort detroit, and those remote posts kept for the sake of your trade; i did not reckon them; but i believe that on the whole the number of americans, or provincial troops, employed in the war, was greater than that of the regulars. i am not certain, but i think so. _q._ do you think the assemblies have a right to levy money on the subject there, to grant _to the crown_? _a._ i certainly think so, they have always done it. _q._ are they acquainted with the declaration of rights? and do they know that, by that statute, money is not to be raised on the subject but by consent of parliament? _a._ they are very well acquainted with it. _q._ how then can they think they have a right to levy money for the crown, or for any other than local purposes? _a._ they understand that clause to relate to subjects only within the realm; that no money can be levied on them for the crown, but by consent of parliament. _the colonies_ are not supposed to be within the realm; they have assemblies of their own, which are their parliaments, and they are, in that respect, in the same situation with ireland. when money is to be raised for the crown upon the subject in ireland, or in the colonies, the consent is given in the parliament of ireland, or in the assemblies of the colonies. they think the parliament of great britain cannot properly give that consent, till it has representatives from america; for the petition of right expressly says, it is to be by _common consent in parliament_; and the people of america have no representatives in parliament, to make a part of that common consent. _q._ if the stamp act should be repealed, and an act should pass, ordering the assemblies of the colonies to indemnify the sufferers by the riots, would they obey it? _a._ that is a question i cannot answer. _q._ suppose the king should require the colonies to grant a revenue, and the parliament should be against their doing it, do they think they can grant a revenue to the king, _without_ the consent of the parliament of great britain? _a._ that is a deep question. as to my own opinion, i should think myself at liberty to do it, and should do it, if i liked the occasion. _q._ when money has been raised in the colonies, upon requisitions, has it not been granted to the king? _a._ yes, always; but the requisitions have generally been for some service expressed, as to raise, clothe, and pay troops, and not for money only. _q._ if the act should pass, requiring the american assemblies to make compensation to the sufferers, and they should disobey it, and then the parliament should, by another act, lay an internal tax, would they then obey it? _a._ the people will pay no internal tax; and i think an act to oblige the assemblies to make compensation is unnecessary; for i am of opinion, that as soon as the present heats are abated, they will take the matter into consideration, and if it is right to be done, they will do it of themselves. _q._ do not letters often come into the post-offices in america directed to some inland town where no post goes? _a._ yes. _q._ can any private person take up those letters and carry them as directed? _a._ yes; any friend of the person may do it, paying the postage that has accrued. _q._ but must not he pay an additional postage for the distance to such inland town? _a._ no. _q._ can the post-master answer delivering the letter, without being paid such additional postage? _a._ certainly he can demand nothing, where he does no service. _q._ suppose a person, being far from home, finds a letter in a post-office directed to him, and he lives in a place to which the post generally goes, and the letter is directed to that place, will the post-master deliver him the letter, without his paying the postage receivable at the place to which the letter is directed? _a._ yes; the office cannot demand postage for a letter that it does not carry, or farther than it does carry it. _q._ are not ferrymen in america obliged, by act of parliament, to carry over the posts without pay? _a._ yes. _q._ is not this a tax on the ferrymen? _a._ they do not consider it as such, as they have an advantage from persons travelling with the post. _q._ if the stamp-act should be repealed, and the crown should make a requisition to the colonies for a sum of money, would they grant it? _a._ i believe they would. _q._ why do you think so? _a._ i can speak for the colony i live in; i had it in _instruction_ from the assembly to assure the ministry, that as they always had done, so they should always think it their duty, to grant such aids to the crown as were suitable to their circumstances and abilities, whenever called upon for that purpose, in the usual constitutional manner; and i had the honour of communicating this instruction to that honourable gentleman then minister.[ ] _q._ would they do this for a british concern, as suppose a war in some part of europe, that did not affect them? _a._ yes, for any thing that concerned the general interest. they consider themselves as part of the whole. _q._ what is the usual constitutional manner of calling on the colonies for aids? _a._ a letter from the secretary of state. _q._ is this all you mean; a letter from the secretary of state? _a._ i mean the usual way of requisition, in a circular letter from the secretary of state, by his majesty's command, reciting the occasion, and recommending it to the colonies to grant such aids as became their loyalty, and were suitable to their abilities. _q._ did the secretary of state ever write for _money_ for the crown? _a._ the requisitions have been to raise, clothe, and pay men, which cannot be done without money. _q._ would they grant money alone, if called on? _a._ in my opinion they would, money as well as men, when they have money, or can make it. _q._ if the parliament should repeal the stamp act, will the assembly of pensylvania rescind their resolutions? _a._ i think not. _q._ before there was any thought of the stamp act, did they wish for a representation in parliament? _a._ no. _q._ don't you know that there is, in the pensylvanian charter, an express reservation of the right of parliament to lay taxes there? _a._ i know there is a clause in the charter, by which the king grants that he will levy no taxes on the inhabitants, unless it be with the consent of the assembly, or by act of parliament. _q._ how then could the assembly of pensylvania assert, that laying a tax on them by the stamp act was an infringement of their rights? _a._ they understand it thus: by the same charter, and otherwise, they are intitled to all the privileges and liberties of englishmen; they find in the great charters, and the petition and declaration of rights, that one of the privileges of english subjects is, that they are not to be taxed but by their _common consent_; they have therefore relied upon it, from the first settlement of the province, that the parliament never would, nor could, by colour of that clause in the charter, assume a right of taxing them, _till_ it had qualified itself to exercise such right, by admitting representatives from the people to be taxed, who ought to make a part of that common consent. _q._ are there any words in the charter that justify that construction? _a._ the common rights of englishmen, as declared by magna charta, and the petition of right, all justify it. _q._ does the distinction between internal and external taxes exist in the words of the charter? _a._ no, i believe not. _q._ then may they not, by the same interpretation, object to the parliament's right of external taxation? _a._ they never _have_ hitherto. many arguments have been lately used here to show them that there is no difference, and that if you have no right to tax them internally, you have none to tax them externally, or make any other law to bind them. at present they do not reason so; but in time they may possibly be convinced by these arguments. _q._ do not the resolutions of the pensylvania assembly say--all taxes? _a._ if they do, they mean only internal taxes; the same words have not always the same meaning here and in the colonies. by taxes they mean internal taxes; by duties they mean customs; these are their ideas of the language. _q._ have you not seen the resolutions of the massachusett's bay assembly? _a._ i have. _q._ do they not say, that neither external nor internal taxes can be laid on them by parliament? _a._ i don't know that they do; i believe not. _q._ if the same colony should say, neither tax nor imposition could be laid, does not that province hold the power of parliament can lay neither? _a._ i suppose that by the word imposition, they do not intend to express duties to be laid on goods imported, as _regulations of commerce_. _q._ what can the colonies mean then by imposition as distinct from taxes? _a._ they may mean many things, as impressing of men, or of carriages, quartering troops on private houses, and the like; there may be great impositions that are not properly taxes. _q._ is not the post-office rate an internal tax laid by act of parliament? _a._ i have answered that. _q._ are all parts of the colonies equally able to pay taxes? _a._ no, certainly; the frontier parts, which have been ravaged by the enemy, are greatly disabled by that means; and therefore, in such cases, are usually favoured in our tax-laws. _q._ can we, at this distance, be competent judges of what favours are necessary? _a._ the parliament have supposed it, by claiming a right to make tax-laws for america; i think it impossible. _q._ would the repeal of the stamp act be any discouragement of your manufactures? will the people that have begun to manufacture decline it? _a._ yes, i think they will; especially if, at the same time, the trade is opened again, so that remittances can be easily made. i have known several instances that make it probable. in the war before last, tobacco being low, and making little remittance, the people of virginia went generally into family-manufactures. afterwards, when tobacco bore a better price, they returned to the use of british manufactures. so fulling-mills were very much disused in the last war in pensylvania, because bills were then plenty, and remittances could easily be made to britain for english cloth and other goods. _q._ if the stamp act should be repealed, would it induce the assemblies of america to acknowledge the rights of parliament to tax them, and would they erase their resolutions? _a._ no, never. _q._ are there no means of obliging them to erase those resolutions? _a._ none that i know of; they will never do it, unless compelled by force of arms. _q._ is there a power on earth that can force them to erase them? _a._ no power, how great soever, can force men to change their opinions. _q._ do they consider the post-office as a tax, or as a regulation? _a._ not as a tax, but as a regulation and conveniency; _every assembly_ encouraged it, and supported it in its infancy, by grants of money, which they would not otherwise have done; and the people have always paid the postage. _q._ when did you receive the instructions you mentioned? _a._ i brought them with me, when i came to england, about fifteen months since. _q._ when did you communicate that instruction to the minister? _a._ soon after my arrival,--while the stamping of america was under consideration, and _before_ the bill was brought in. _q._ would it be most for the interest of great britain, to employ the hands of virginia in tobacco, or in manufactures? _a._ in tobacco, to be sure. _q._ what used to be the pride of the americans? _a._ to indulge in the fashions and manufactures of great britain. _q._ what is now their pride? _a._ to wear their old clothes over again, till they can make new ones. _withdrew._ footnotes: [ ] . feb. . benjamin franklin, esq. and a number of other persons were "ordered to attend the committee of the whole house [of commons] to whom it was referred, to consider farther the several papers [relative to america] which were presented to the house by mr. secretary conway, &c." feb. . benjamin franklin, esq. having passed through his examination, was exempted from farther attendance. feb. . the resolutions of the committee were reported by the chairman, mr. fuller, their _seventh_ and last resolution setting forth "that it was their opinion that the house be moved, that leave be given to bring in a bill to repeal the stamp act." a proposal for re-committing this resolution was negatived by votes to . (see the journals of the house of commons.) this examination of dr. franklin was printed in the year , under the form of a shilling pamphlet. it is prior in point of date to some of the foregoing pieces; but i readily submitted to this derangement, thinking by this means to provide the reader with a knowledge of the proceedings on which the examination was grounded. b. v. [ ] "the stamp act says, that the americans shall have no commerce, make no exchange of property with each other, neither purchase nor grant nor recover debts; they shall neither marry nor make their wills, unless they pay such and such sums" in _specie_ for the stamps which must give validity to the proceedings. the operation of such a tax, had it obtained the consent of the people, appeared inevitable; and its annual productiveness, if i recollect well, was estimated by its proposer in the house of commons at the committee for supplies, at , _l._ sterling. the colonies being already reduced to the necessity of having _paper_-money, by sending to britain the specie they collected in foreign trade, in order to make up for the deficiency of their other returns for britain's manufactures; there were doubts where could remain the _specie_ sufficient to answer the tax. b. v. [ ] the stamp act provides that a double duty should be laid "where the instrument, proceedings, &c. shall be engrossed, written, or printed, within the said colonies and plantations, in any other than the english language." this measure, i presume, appeared to be suggested by motives of convenience, and the policy of assimilating persons of foreign to those of british descent, and preventing their interference in the conduct of law business till this change should be effected. it seems however to have been deemed too precipitate, immediately to extend this clause to newly-conquered countries. an exemption therefore was granted, in this particular, with respect to canada and grenada, for the space of five years, to be reckoned from the commencement of the duty. (see the stamp act.) b. v. [ ] strangers excluded, some parts of the northern colonies double their numbers in fifteen or sixteen years; to the southward they are longer, but, taking one with another, they have doubled by natural generation only, once in twenty-five years. pensylvania, i believe, _including strangers_, has doubled in about sixteen years. the calculation for february will not then suit . b. v. [ ] in the year --"for the welfare and prosperity of our sugar colonies in america," and "for remedying discouragements of planters;" duties were "_given and granted_" to george the second upon all rum, spirits, molasses, syrups, sugar, and paneles of foreign growth, produce, and manufacture, imported into our colonies. this _regulation of trade_, for the benefit of the general empire was acquiesced in, notwithstanding the introduction of the novel terms "give and grant." but the act, which was made only for the term of five years, and had been several times renewed in the reign of george the second, and once in the reign of george the third; was renewed again in the year , in the reign of george the third, and _extended to other articles, upon new and altered grounds_. it was stated in the preamble to this act, "that it was expedient that new provisions and regulations should be established for _improving the revenue of this kingdom_;" "that it was just and necessary that a revenue should be raised in america for defending, protecting, and securing the same;" "and that the commons of great britain ... desirous of making some provision ... towards _raising the said revenue_ in america, have resolved to give and grant to his majesty the several rates and duties, &c." mr. mauduit, agent for massachusett's bay, tells us, that he was instructed in the following terms to oppose mr. grenville's taxing system.--"you are to remonstrate against these measures, and, if possible, to obtain a repeal of the sugar act, and prevent the imposition of any further duties or taxes on the colonies. measures will be taken that you may be joined by all the other agents. _boston, june , ._" the question proposed to dr. franklin alludes to this sugar act in . dr. franklin's answer appears to deserve the best attention of the reader. b. v. [ ] some of the colonies have been reduced to the necessity of bartering, from the want of a medium of traffic. see p. . b. v. [ ] afterwards expressed in the declaratory-act. b. v. [ ] see the answer to the report of the board of trade, p. . b. v. [ ] see the note to lord howe's letter to our author. b. v. [ ] i. e. mills for the slitting of iron. b. v. [ ] admiral vernon and general wentworth commanded this expedition; with what success, is well known. b. v. [ ] when this army was in the utmost distress from the want of waggons, &c. our author and his son voluntarily traversed the country, in order to collect a sufficient quantity; and they had zeal and address enough to effect their purpose, upon pledging themselves, to the amount of many thousand pounds, for payment. it was but just before dr. franklin's last return to america, that the accounts in this transaction were passed at home. b. v. [ ] i take the following to be the history of this transaction. until , and the years following, whenever great britain wanted supplies directly from the colonies, the secretary of state, in his majesty's name, sent them a letter of requisition, in which the occasion for the supplies was expressed; and the colonies returned a _free gift_, the mode of levying which _they_ wholly prescribed. at this period, a chancellor of the exchequer (mr. george grenville) steps forth and says to the house of commons: _we must call for money from the colonies in the way of a tax_;--and to the colony-agents, _write to your several colonies, and tell them, if they dislike a duty upon stamps, and prefer any other method of raising the money themselves, i shall be content, provided the_ amount _be but raised_. "that is," observed the colonies, when commenting upon his terms, "if we will not tax ourselves, _as we may be directed_, the parliament will tax us," dr. franklin's instructions, spoken of above, related to this gracious option. as the colonies could not choose "_another_ tax," while they disclaimed _every_ tax; the parliament passed the stamp-act. it seems that the only part of the offer which bore a show of favour, was the grant of the _mode of levying_--and this was the only circumstance which was _not new_. see mr. mauduit's account of mr. grenville's conference with the agents, confirmed by the agents for georgia and virginia, and mr. burke's speech, in , p. . b. v. _attempts of dr. franklin for conciliation of great britain with the colonies[ ]._ _london, nov. , ._ dear sir, i received your obliging favour of the th instant. your sentiments of the importance of the present dispute between great britain and the colonies, appear to me extremely just. there is nothing i wish for more than to see it amicably and equitably settled. but providence will bring about its own ends by its own means; and if it intends the downfal of a nation, that nation will be so blinded by its pride, and other passions, as not to see its danger, or how its fall may be prevented. being born and bred in one of the countries, and having lived long and made many agreeable connexions of friendship in the other, i wish all prosperity to both: but i have talked, and written so much and so long on the subject, that my acquaintance are weary of hearing, and the public of reading any more of it, which begins to make me weary of talking and writing; especially as i do not find that i have gained any point, in either country, except that of rendering myself suspected, by my impartiality; in england, of being too much an american, and in america of being too much an englishman. your opinion, however, weighs with me, and encourages me to try one effort more, in a full, though concise state of facts, accompanied with arguments drawn from those facts; to be published about the meeting of parliament, after the holidays. if any good may be done i shall rejoice; but at present i almost despair. have you ever seen the barometer so low as of late? the d instant mine was at , , and yet the weather fine and fair. with sincere esteem, i am, dear friend, yours, affectionately, b. franklin. footnote: [ ] i cannot pretend to say what is the publication promised in this letter; unless it alludes to the one given above at p. ; in which case there is a mistake in the date of the year. b. v. _queries from mr. strahan._ to dr. franklin[ ]. _nov. , ._ dear sir, in the many conversations we have had together about our present disputes with north america, we perfectly agreed in wishing they may be brought to a speedy and happy conclusion. how this is to be done, is not so easily ascertained. _two objects_, i humbly apprehend, his majesty's servants have now in contemplation. st. to relieve the colonies from the taxes complained of, which they certainly had no hand in imposing. dly, to preserve the honour, the dignity, and the supremacy of the british legislature over all his majesty's dominions. as i know your singular knowledge of the subject in question, and am as fully convinced of your cordial attachment to his majesty, and your sincere desire to promote the happiness equally of all his subjects, i beg you would in your own clear, brief, and explicit manner, send me an answer to the following questions: i make this request now, because this matter is of the utmost importance, and must very quickly be agitated. and i do it with the more freedom, as you know me and my motives too well to entertain the most remote suspicion that i will make an improper use of any information you shall hereby convey to me. st. will not a repeal of all the duties (that on tea excepted, which was before paid here on exportation, and of course no new imposition) fully satisfy the colonists[ ]? if you answer in the negative, d. your reasons for that opinion? d. do you think the only effectual way of composing the present differences is to put the americans precisely in the situation they were in before the passing of the late stamp-act?--if that is your opinion, th. your reasons for that opinion? th. if this last method is deemed by the legislature, and his majesty's ministers, to be repugnant to their duty, as guardians of the just rights of the crown and of their fellow-subjects; can you suggest any other way of terminating these disputes, consistent with the ideas of justice and propriety conceived by the king's subjects on both sides of the atlantic? . and if this method was actually followed, do you not think it would actually encourage the violent and factious part of the colonists to aim at still farther concessions from the mother-country? th. if they are relieved in part only, what do you, as a reasonable and dispassionate man, and an equal friend to both sides, imagine will be the probable consequences? the answers to these questions, i humbly conceive, will include all the information i want; and i beg you will favour me with them as soon as may be. every well-wisher to the peace and prosperity of the british empire, and every friend to our truly happy constitution, must be desirous of seeing even the most trivial causes of dissention among our fellow-subjects removed. our domestic squabbles, in my mind, are nothing to what i am speaking of. this you know much better than i do, and therefore i need add nothing farther to recommend this subject to your serious consideration. i am, with the most cordial esteem and attachment, dear sir, your faithful and affectionate humble servant, w. s. footnotes: [ ] these letters have often been copied into our public prints. mr. strahan, the correspondent, is printer to the king, and now representative in parliament for malmsbury in wiltshire. an intimacy of long standing had subsisted between him and dr. franklin. b. v. it was the father of the present mr. strahan, who is also king's-printer, and member of parliament. the friendship, which so long subsisted between mr. strahan and dr. franklin, the latter, in , formally abjured, in a letter addressed to mr. strahan, which will be found in the order of its date, in a subsequent part of this work. _editor._ [ ] in the year , for the express purpose of raising a revenue in america, glass, red-lead, white-lead, painters' colours, paper, and _tea_ (which last article was subject to various _home_-impositions) became charged by act of parliament, with new _permanent_ duties payable in the american ports. soon after, in the same sessions, (the east-india company promising indemnification for the experiment) a _temporary_ alteration was made with respect to the _home_ customs or excise upon certain teas, in the hope that a deduction in the nominal imposition, by producing a more extended consumption, would give an increased sum to the exchequer. mr. strahan, comparing only the _amounts_ of the imposed american duty, and the deducted home duty, determines that the americans had suffered no new imposition. the americans it seems, thought otherwise. had we established this precedent for a revenue, we thought we had every thing to hope; yet we affect surprise, when the colonies avoided an acquiescence which by parity of reasoning gave _them_ every thing to fear. b. v. _answer to the preceding queries._ _craven street, nov. , ._ dear sir, being just returned to town from a little excursion, i find yours of the st, containing a number of queries, that would require a pamphlet to answer them fully. you, however, desire only brief answers, which i shall endeavour to give. previous to your queries, you tell me, that "you apprehend his majesty's servants have now in contemplation, st, to relieve the colonists from the taxes complained of; d, to preserve the honour, the dignity, and the supremacy of the british legislature over all his majesty's dominions." i hope your information is good; and that what you suppose to be in contemplation will be carried into execution, by repealing all the laws, that have been made for raising a revenue in america by authority of parliament without the consent of the people there. the honour and dignity of the british legislature will not be hurt by such an act of justice and wisdom. the wisest councils are liable to be misled, especially in matters remote from their inspection. it is the persisting in an error, not the correcting it, that lessens the honour of any man or body of men. the supremacy of that legislature, i believe, will be best preserved by making a very sparing use of it; never but for the evident good of the colonies themselves, or of the whole british empire; never for the partial advantage of britain to their prejudice. by such prudent conduct, i imagine, that supremacy may be gradually strengthened, and in time fully established; but otherwise, i apprehend it will be disputed, and lost in the dispute. at present the colonies consent and submit to it, for the regulations of general commerce; but a submission to acts of parliament was no part of their original constitution. our former kings governed their colonies, as they had governed their dominions in france, without the participation of british parliaments. the parliament of england never presumed to interfere in that prerogative, till the time of the great rebellion, when they usurped the government of all the king's other dominions, ireland, scotland, &c. the colonies that held for the king, they conquered by force of arms, and governed afterwards as conquered countries; but new england, having not opposed the parliament, was considered and treated as a sister-kingdom, in amity with england (as appears by the journals, _march , _.) st. "will not a repeal of all the duties (that on tea excepted, which was before paid here on exportation, and of course no new imposition) fully satisfy the colonists?" _answer_, i think not. d. "your reasons for that opinion?" _a._ because it is not the sum paid in that duty on tea that is complained of as a burden, but the principle of the act, expressed in the preamble, viz. that those duties were laid for the better support of government, and the administration of justice in the colonies[ ]. this the colonists think unnecessary, unjust, and dangerous to their most important rights. _unnecessary_, because in all the colonies (two or three new ones excepted[ ]) government and the administration of justice were, and always had been, well supported without any charge to britain: _unjust_, as it has made such colonies liable to pay such charge for others, in which they had no concern or interest: _dangerous_, as such mode of raising money for those purposes tended to render their assemblies useless; for if a revenue could be raised in the colonies for all the purposes of government by act of parliament, without grants from the people there, governors, who do not generally love assemblies, would never call them; they would be laid aside; and when nothing should depend on the people's good-will to government, their rights would be trampled on; they would be treated with contempt. another reason, why i think they would not be satisfied with such a partial repeal, is that their agreements, not to import till the repeal takes place, include the whole; which shows, that they object to the whole; and those agreements will continue binding on them, if the whole is not repealed. d. "do you think the only effectual way of composing the present differences is to put the americans precisely in the situation they were in before the passing of the late stamp act?" _a._ i think so. th. "your reasons for that opinion?" _a._ other methods have been tried. they have been refused or rebuked in angry letters. their petitions have been refused or rejected by parliament. they have been threatened with the punishments of treason by resolves of both houses. their assemblies have been dissolved and troops have been sent among them: but all these ways have only exasperated their minds and widened the breach. their agreements to use no more british manufactures have been strengthened; and these measures, instead of composing differences, and promoting a good correspondence, have almost annihilated your commerce with those countries, and greatly endanger the national peace and general welfare. th. "if this last method is deemed by the legislature, and his majesty's ministers, to be repugnant to their duty as guardians of the just rights of the crown, and of their fellow-subjects; can you suggest any other way of terminating these disputes, consistent with the ideas of justice and propriety conceived by the king's subjects on _both_ sides the atlantic?" _a._ i do not see how that method can be deemed repugnant to the rights of the crown. if the americans are put into their former situation, it must be an act of parliament; in the passing of which by the king, the rights of the crown are exercised, not infringed. it is indifferent to the crown, whether the aids received from america are granted by parliament here, or by the assemblies there, provided the quantum be the same; and it is my opinion, that more will be generally granted there voluntarily, than can ever be exacted or collected from thence by authority of parliament. as to the rights of fellow-subjects (i suppose you mean the people of britain) i cannot conceive how those will be infringed by that method. they will still enjoy the right of granting their own money, and may still, if it pleases them, keep up their claim to the right of granting ours; a right they can never exercise properly, for want of a sufficient knowledge of us, our circumstances and abilities (to say nothing of the little likelihood there is that we should ever submit to it) therefore a right that can be of no good use to them; and we shall continue to enjoy in fact the right of granting our money, with the opinion, now universally prevailing among us, that we are free subjects of the king, and that fellow-subjects of one part of his dominions are not sovereigns over fellow-subjects in any other part. if the subjects on the different sides of the atlantic have different and opposite ideas of "justice and propriety," no one "method" can possibly be consistent with both. the best will be, to let each enjoy their own opinions, without disturbing them, when they do not interfere with the common good. th. "and if this method were actually allowed, do you not think it would encourage the violent and factious part of the colonists, to aim at still farther concessions from the mother-country?" _a._ i do not think it would. there may be a few among them that deserve the name of factious and violent, as there are in all countries; but these would have little influence, if the great majority of sober reasonable people were satisfied. if any colony should happen to think, that some of your regulations of trade are inconvenient to the general interest of the empire, or prejudicial to them without being beneficial to you, they will state these matters to parliament in petitions as heretofore; but will, i believe, take no violent steps to obtain what they may hope for in time from the wisdom of government here. i know of nothing else they can have in view: the notion that prevails here, of their being desirous to set up a kingdom or commonwealth of their own, is to my certain knowledge entirely groundless. i therefore think, that on a total repeal of all duties, laid expressly for the purpose of raising a revenue on the people of america without their consent, the present uneasiness would subside; the agreements not to import would be dissolved; and the commerce flourish as heretofore; and i am confirmed in this sentiment by all the letters i have received from america, and by the opinions of all the sensible people who have lately come from thence, crown-officers excepted. i know, indeed, that the people of boston are grievously offended by the quartering of troops among them, as they think, contrary to law, and are very angry with the board of commissioners, who have calumniated them to government; but as i suppose the withdrawing of those troops may be a consequence of reconciliating measures taking place; and that the commission also will be either dissolved, if found useless, or filled with more temperate and prudent men, if still deemed useful and necessary; i do not imagine these particulars would prevent a return of the harmony so much to be wished[ ]. th. "if they are relieved in part only, what do you, as a reasonable and dispassionate man, and an equal friend to both sides, imagine will be the probable consequence?" _a._ i imagine, that repealing the offensive duties in part will answer no end to this country; the commerce will remain obstructed, and the americans go on with their schemes of frugality, industry, and manufactures, to their own great advantage. how much that may tend to the prejudice of britain, i cannot say; perhaps not so much as some apprehend, since she may in time find new markets. but i think, if the union of the two countries continues to subsist, it will not hurt the general interest; for whatever wealth britain loses by the failing of its trade with the colonies, america will gain; and the crown will receive equal aids from its subjects upon the whole, if not greater. and now i have answered your questions, as to what may be, in my opinion, the consequences of this or that supposed measure, i will go a little further, and tell you, what i fear is more likely to come to pass in _reality_. i apprehend, that the ministry, at least the american part of it, being fully persuaded of the right of parliament, think it ought to be enforced, whatever may be the consequences; and at the same time do not believe, there is even now any abatement of the trade between the two countries on account of these disputes; or that if there is, it is small, and cannot long continue. they are assured by the crown-officers in america, that manufactures are impossible there; that the discontented are few, and persons of little consequence; that almost all the people of property and importance are satisfied, and disposed to submit quietly to the taxing power of parliament; and that, if the revenue-acts are continued, and those duties only that are called anti-commercial be repealed, and others perhaps laid in their stead, the power ere long will be patiently submitted to, and the agreements not to import be broken, when they are found to produce no change of measures here. from these and similar misinformations, which seem to be credited, i think it likely, that no thorough redress of grievances will be afforded to america this session. this may inflame matters still more in that country; farther rash measures there may create more resentment here, that may produce not merely ill-advised dissolutions of their assemblies, as last year, but attempts to dissolve their constitution[ ]; more troops may be sent over, which will create more uneasiness; to justify the measures of government, your writers will revile the americans in your newspapers, as they have already begun to do, treating them as miscreants, rogues, dastards, rebels, &c. to alienate the minds of the people here from them, and which will tend farther to diminish their affections to this country. possibly too, some of their warm patriots may be distracted enough to expose themselves by some mad action to be sent for hither, and government here be indiscreet enough to hang them, on the act of henry viii[ ]. mutual provocations will thus go on to complete the separation; and instead of that cordial affection, that once and so long existed, and that harmony, so suitable to the circumstances, and so necessary to the happiness, strength, safety, and welfare of both countries, an implacable malice and mutual hatred, such as we now see subsisting between the spaniards and portuguese, the genoese and corsicans, from the same original misconduct in the superior governments, will take place: the sameness of nation, the similarity of religion, manners, and language not in the least preventing in our case, more than it did in theirs.--i hope, however, that this may all prove false prophecy, and that you and i may live to see as sincere and perfect a friendship established between our respective countries, as has so many years subsisted between mr. strahan, and his truly affectionate old friend, b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] "men may lose little property by an act which takes away all their freedom. when a man is robbed of a trifle on the highway, it is not the two-pence lost that makes the capital outrage." "would twenty shillings have ruined mr. hampden's fortune? no! but the payment of half twenty shillings, on the principle it was demanded, would have made him a slave." see mr. burke's speeches in and . b. v. [ ] nova scotia, georgia, the floridas, and canada. b. v. [ ] "the opposition [to lord rockingham's administration]" says lord chesterfield, "are for taking vigorous, as they call them, but i call them violent measures; not less than _les dragonades_; and to have the tax collected by the troops we have there. for my part, i never saw a forward child mended by whipping: and i would not have the mother become a step-mother." letter, no. . "is it a certain maxim," pleads mr. burke, "that the fewer causes of dissatisfaction are left by government, the more the subject will be inclined to resist and rebel?" "i confess i do not feel the least alarm from the discontents which are to arise from putting people at their ease. nor do i apprehend the destruction of this empire, from giving, by an act of free grace and indulgence, to two millions of my fellow-citizens, some share of those rights, upon which i have always been taught to value myself." speeches in and . b. v. [ ] this was afterwards attempted by the british legislature, in the case of the massachusett's bay. b. v. [ ] the lords and commons very prudently concurred in an address for this purpose, and the king graciously assured them of his compliance with their wishes. b. v. _state of the constitution of the colonies, by governor pownall[ ]; with remarks by dr. franklin._ [principles.] . wherever any englishmen go forth without the realm, and make settlements in partibus exteris, "these settlements as english settlements, and these inhabitants as english subjects (carrying with them the laws of the land wherever they form colonies, and receiving his majesty's protection by virtue of his royal charter[ ]" or commissions of government) "have and enjoy all liberties and immunities of free and natural subjects, to all intents constructions and purposes whatsoever, as if they and every of them were born within the realm[ ];" and are bound by the like allegiance as every other subject of the realm. remarks. _the settlers of colonies in america did not carry with them the_ laws of the land, _as being bound by them wherever they should settle. they left the realm to avoid the inconveniences and hardships they were under, where some of those laws were in force, particularly ecclesiastical laws, those for payment of tythes and others. had it been understood, that they were to carry these laws with them, they had better have staid at home among their friends, unexposed to the risques and toils of a new settlement. they carried with them, a right to_ such parts _of the_ laws of the land, _as they should judge advantageous or useful to them; a right to be free from those they thought hurtful; and a right to make such others, as they should think necessary, not infringing the general rights of englishmen: and such_ new _laws they were to form, as agreeable as might be to the laws of england_. b. f. . therefore the _common law of england_, and all _such statutes_ as were enacted and in force at _the time_ in which such settlers went forth, and such colonies and plantations were established, (except as hereafter excepted) together with all such alterations and amendments as the said common law may have received, is from time to time, and at all times, the law of those colonies and plantations. rem. _so far as they adopt it, by express laws or by practice._ b. f. . therefore all statutes, touching the _right of the succession_, and settlement of the crown, with the statutes of treason relating thereto[ ]; all statutes, _regulating_ or limiting the general powers and _authority of the crown_, and the exercise of the jurisdiction thereof; all statutes, _declaratory of the rights and liberty of the subject_, do extend to all british subjects in the colonies and plantations as of common right, and as if they and every of them were born within the realm. rem. _it is doubted, whether any settlement of the crown by parliament, takes place in the colonies, otherwise than by consent of the assemblies there. had the rebellion in succeeded so far as to settle the stuart family again on the throne, by act of parliament, i think the colonies would not have thought themselves bound by such act. they would still have adhered to the present family as long as they could._ b. f. observation in reply. _they are bound to the king and his successors, and we know no succession but by act of parliament._ t. p. . all statutes enacted _since_ the establishment of colonies and plantations do extend to and operate within the said colonies and plantations, in which statutes the same _are specially named_. rem. _it is doubted, whether any act of parliament should_ of right _operate in the colonies_: in fact _several of than have and do operate_. b. f. . statutes and customs, which respect only the _special and local circumstances_ of the realm, do not extend to and operate within said colonies and plantations, where no such special and local circumstances are found.--(thus the _ecclesiastical and canon_ law, and all _statutes respecting tythes_, the laws respecting _courts baron and copyholds_, the _game acts_, the statutes _respecting the poor_ and settlements, and all other laws and statutes, having special reference to special and local circumstances and establishments within the realm, do not extend to and operate within these settlements, in partibus exteris, where no such circumstances or establishments exist.) rem. _these laws have no force in america: not merely because local circumstances differ, but because they have never been adopted, or brought over by acts of assembly or by practice in the courts._ b. f. . no statutes made _since_ the establishment of said colonies and plantations (_except_ as above described in articles and ) do extend to and operate within said colonies and plantations. query.--would any statute made since the establishment of said colonies and plantations, which statute imported, to _annul_ and abolish the powers and jurisdictions of their respective constitutions of government, where the same was not contrary to the laws, or any otherwise forfeited or abated; or which statute imported, to take away, or did take away, the rights and privileges of the settlers, as british subjects: would such statute, as of right, extend to and operate within said colonies and plantations? answer. _no. the parliament has no such power. the charters cannot be altered but by consent of both parties--the king and the colonies._ b. f. [corollaries from the foregoing principles.] upon the matters of fact, right and law, as above stated, it is, that the british subjects thus settled in partibus exteris without the realm, so long as they are excluded from an intire union with the realm as parts of and within the same, have a right to have (as they have) and to be governed by (as they are) a _distinct intire civil government_, of the like powers, pre-eminences and jurisdictions (conformable to the like rights, privileges, immunities, franchises, and civil liberties) as are to be found and are established in the british government, respecting the british subject within the realm. rem. _right._ b. f. hence also it is, that the _rights of the subject_, as declared in the petition of right, that the _limitation of prerogative_ by the act for abolishing the star-chamber and for regulating the privy-council, &c. that the habeas corpus act, the statute of frauds, the bill of rights, do of common right extend to and are in force within said colonies and plantations. rem. _several of these rights are established by special colony laws. if any are not yet so established, the colonies have right to such laws: and the covenant having been made in the charters by the king, for himself and his successors, such laws ought to receive the royal assent_ as of right. b. f. hence it is, that the _freeholders_ within the precincts of these jurisdictions have (as of right they ought to have) a _share in the power of making those laws_ which they are to be governed by, by the right which they have of sending their representatives to act for them and to consent for them in all matters of legislation, which representatives, when met in general assembly, have, together with the crown, a right to perform and do all the like acts respecting the matters, things and rights within the precincts of their jurisdiction, as the parliament hath respecting the realm and british dominions. hence also it is, that all the _executive offices_ (from the supreme civil magistrate, as locum tenens to the king, down to that of constable and head-borough) must of right be established with all and the like powers, neither more nor less than as defined by the constitution and law, as in fact they are established. hence it is, that the _judicial offices and courts of justice_, established within the precincts of said jurisdictions, have, as they ought of right to have, all those jurisdictions and powers "as fully and amply to all intents and purposes whatsoever, as the courts of king's bench, common pleas, and exchequer, within his majesty's kingdom of england, have, and ought to have, and are empowered to give judgment and award execution thereupon[ ]." hence it is, that by the possession enjoyment and exercise of his majesty's _great seal_, delivered to his majesty's governor, there is established within the precincts of the respective jurisdictions all the same and like _powers of chancery_ (except where by charters specially excluded) as his majesty's chancellor within his majesty's kingdom of england hath, and of right ought to have, by delivery of the great seal of england.--and hence it is, that all the like rights, privileges and powers, follow the use, exercise and application of the great seal of each colony and plantation within the precincts of said jurisdiction, as doth, and ought of right to follow the use, exercise, and application of the great seal. hence also it is, that _appeals in real actions_, "whereby the lands, tenements, and hereditaments of british subjects may be drawn into question and disposed of[ ]," do not lie, as of right and by law they ought not to lie, to the king in council. hence also it is, that there is _not_ any law now in being, whereby _the subject_ within said colonies and plantations can be _removed[ ] from the jurisdiction to which he is amenable_ in all his right, and through which his service and allegiance must be derived to the crown, and from which no appeal lies in criminal causes, so as that such subject may become amenable to a jurisdiction foreign to his natural and legal resiancy; to which he may be thereby transported, and under which he may be brought to trial and receive judgment, contrary to the rights and privileges of the subject, as declared by the spirit and intent and especially by the th § of the habeas corpus act. and if the person of any subject within the said colonies and plantations _should_ be seized or detained by any power issuing from any court, without the jurisdiction of the colony where he then had his legal resiancy, it would become the duty of the courts of justice _within_ such colony (it is undoubtedly of their jurisdiction so to do) to issue the writ of _habeas corpus_[ ]. hence also it is, that in like manner as "the _command and disposition of the militia, and of all forces by sea and land_, and of all forts and places of strength, is, and by the laws of england ever was, the undoubted right of his majesty and his royal predecessors, kings and queens of england, within all his majesty's realms and dominions[ ]," in like manner as the supreme military power and command (so far as the constitution knows of and will justify its establishment) is inseparably annexed to, and forms an essential part of the office of supreme civil magistrate, the office of king: in like manner, in all _governments under the king_, where the constituents are british subjects and of full and perfect right entitled to the british laws and constitution, the supreme military command within the precincts of such jurisdictions must be inseparably annexed to the office of supreme civil magistrate, (his majesty's regent, vice-regent, lieutenant, or locum tenens, in what form soever established) so that the king cannot, by any[ ] commission of regency, by any commission or charter of government, separate or withdraw the supreme command of the military from the office of supreme civil magistrate--either by reserving this command in his own hands, to be exercised and executed independent of the civil power; or by granting a distinct commission to any military commander in chief, so to be exercised and executed; but more especially not within such jurisdictions where such supreme military power (so far as the constitution knows and will justify the same) is _already_ annexed and granted to the office of supreme civil magistrate.--and hence it is, that the king cannot erect or establish any law martial or military command, by any commission which may supersede and not be subject to the supreme civil magistrate, within the respective precincts of the civil jurisdictions of said colonies and plantations, otherwise than in such manner as the said law martial and military commissions are annexed or subject to the supreme civil jurisdiction within his majesty's realms and dominions of great britain and ireland; and hence it is, that the establishment and exercise of such commands and commissions would be illegal[ ]. rem. _the king has the command of all military force in his dominions: but in every distinct state of his dominions there should be the consent of the parliament or assembly (the representative body) to the_ raising and keeping up _such military force. he cannot even raise troops and quarter them in another, without the consent of that other. he cannot_ of right _bring troops raised in ireland and quarter them in britain, but with the consent of the parliament of britain: nor carry to ireland and quarter there, soldiers raised in britain, without the consent of the irish parliament, unless in time of war and cases of extreme exigency.--in , when the speaker went up to present the money-bills, he said among other things, that "england was capable of fighting her own battles and defending herself; and although ever attached to your majesty's person, ever at ease under your just government, they cannot forbear taking notice of some circumstances in the present situation of affairs, which nothing but the confidence in your justice could hinder from alarming their most serious apprehensions. subsidies to foreign princes, when already burthened with a debt scarce to be borne, cannot but be severely felt._ an army of foreign troops, a thing unprecedented, unheard of, unknown, brought into england, _cannot but alarm, &c. &c._" (_see the speech._) _n. b. these_ foreign troops _were part of the king's subjects, hanoverians, and all in _his_ service, which the same thing as_**** b. f. footnotes: [ ] this state of the constitution of the colonies was printed at the close of , and communicated to various persons, with a view to prevent mischief, from the misunderstandings between the government of great britain and the people of america. i have taken the liberty of ascribing it to governor pownall, as his name could have been no secret at the time. dr. franklin's remarks (which from their early date are the more curious) are in manuscript, and from an observation in reply signed t. p. appear to have been communicated to governor pownall. b. v. [ ] pratt and york. [ ] general words in all charters. [ ] [i. e.] all statutes respecting the general relation between the crown and the subject, not such as respect any particular or peculiar establishment of the realm of england. as for instance: by the th and th of car. ii. c. , the supreme military power is declared to be in general, without limitation, in his majesty, and to have always been of right annexed to the office of king of england, throughout all his majesty's realms and dominions; yet the enacting clause, which respects only the peculiar establishment of the militia of england, extends to the realm of england only: so that the supreme military power of the crown in all other his majesty's realms and dominions stands, _as to this statute_, on the basis of its general power, unlimited. however, the several legislatures of his majesty's kingdom of ireland, of his dominions of virginia, and of the several colonies and plantations in america, have, by laws to which the king hath given his consent, operating within the precincts of their several jurisdictions, limited the powers of it and regulated the exercise thereof. [ ] law in new england, confirmed by the crown, oct. , . [ ] th car. i. c. . [ ] the case of the court erected by act of parliament and th of william iii. c. , (since the enacting of the habeas corpus act) for the trial of piracies, felonies and robberies committed in or upon the sea, or in any haven, river, creek or place _where the admiral has jurisdiction_, does no way affect this position: nor doth the § of the said statute, directing that the commissioners, of whom such court consists, may issue their warrant for apprehending such pirates, &c. in order to their being tried in the colonies, or _sent into england_, any way militate with the doctrine here laid down: nor can it be applied as _the case of a jurisdiction actually existing_, which supersedes the jurisdictions of the courts in the colonies and plantations, and as what authorises the taking the accused of such piracies &c. _from those jurisdictions_, and the sending such _so taken_ to england for trial.--it cannot be applied as a case similar and in point to the application of an act of parliament (passed in the th of henry viii. concerning the _trial of treasons_) lately recommended in order to the sending persons accused of committing crimes in the plantations to england for trial: because this act of the th and th of william, c. , respects _crimes_ committed in places, "_where the admiral has jurisdiction_," and _cases_ to which the jurisdiction of those provincial courts _do not extend_. in the _case of treasons committed within the jurisdiction of the colonies and plantations_, there are courts competent to try such crimes and to give judgment thereupon, where the trials of such are regulated by laws to which the king hath given his consent: from which there lies no appeal, and wherein the king hath given power and instruction to his governor as to execution or respite of judgment. the said act of henry viii, which provides remedy for a case which supposes _the want_ of due legal jurisdiction, cannot be any way, or by any rule, applied to a case where there _is_ due legal and competent jurisdiction. [ ] [the] referring to an old act made for the trial of treasons committed out of the realm, by such persons as had no legal resiancy but within the realm, and who were of the realm, applying the purview of that statute, which was made to bring subjects of the realm who had committed treason out of the realm (where there was _no criminal jurisdiction to which they could be amenable_) to trial within the realm, under that criminal jurisdiction to which alone by their legal resiancy and allegiance they were amenable; applying this to the case of subjects whose _legal_ resiancy is _without_ the realm, and who are by that resiancy and their allegiance amenable to a jurisdiction authorized and empowered to try and give judgment upon all capital offences whatsoever without appeal; thus applying this statute so as to take up a proceeding, for which there is no legal process either by common or statute law as now established, but in defiance of which there is a legal process established by the habeas corpus act;----would be, to disfranchise the subject in america of those rights and liberties which by statute and common law he is now entitled to. [ ] th and th car. ii. c. . [ ] if the king was to absent himself for a time from the realm, and did as usual leave a regency in his place, (his locum tenens as supreme civil magistrate) could he authorize and commission any military commander in chief to command the militia forts and forces, _independent of such regency_? could he do this in ireland? could he do this in the colonies and plantations, where the governor is already, by commission or charter or both under the great seal, military commander in chief, as part of (and inseparably annexed to) the office of supreme civil magistrate, his majesty's locum tenens within said jurisdictions? if he could, then, while openly, by patent according to law, he appeared to establish a free british constitution, he might by a fallacy establish a military power and government. [ ] governor p. accompanied this paper to dr. f. with a sort of prophetic remark. after stating, that these theorems, and their application to existing cases, were intended to remedy the prejudice, indigestion, indecision and errors, then prevailing either in opinions or conduct; he adds, "the very attention to the investigation may lead to the discovery of _some truths respecting the whole british empire_, then little thought of and scarce even suspected, and which perhaps it would not be _prudent_ at this time to mark and point out."--the minister however judged the _discussion_ of _dubious_ rights over growing states, a better policy than possession, discretion and silence; he turned civilian, and lost an empire. b. v. to mr. dubourg. _concerning the dissentions between england and america._[ ] _london, october , ._ i see with pleasure that we think pretty much alike on the subjects of english america. we of the colonies have never insisted, that we ought to be exempt from contributing to the common expences necessary to support the prosperity of the empire. we only assert, that having parliaments of our own, and not having representatives in that of great britain, our parliaments are the only judges of what we can and what we ought to contribute in this case; and that the english parliament has no right to take our money without our consent. 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. the dispute between the two countries has already cost england many millions sterling, which it has lost in its commerce, and america has in this respect been a proportionable gainer. this commerce consisted principally of superfluities; objects of luxury and fashion, which we can well do without; and the resolution we have formed, of importing no more till our grievances are redressed, has enabled many of our infant manufactures to take root; and it will not be easy to make our people abandon them in future, even should a connection more cordial than ever succeed the present troubles. i have indeed no doubt, that the parliament of england will finally abandon its present pretensions, and leave us to the peaceable enjoyment of our rights and privileges. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] re-translated from the french edition of dr. franklin's works. _editor._ _a prussian edict, assuming claims over britain._ _dantzick, sept. , ._[ ] we have long wondered here at the supineness of the english nation, under the prussian impositions upon its trade entering 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 public, may, if serious, throw some light upon this matter: "frederick, by the grace of god, king of prussia &c. &c. &c. to all present and to come,[ ] 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, subjects to our renowned ducal ancestors, and drawn from their dominions, under the conduct of hengist, horsa, hella, uffa, cerdicus, ida, and others; and that the said colonies have flourished 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 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 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 country 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 water-borne 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 loaden 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 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 hat-makers, 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 favored 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, housebreakers, 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 and will. iii. c. .-- geo. ii. c. .-- geo. ii. c. .-- geo. i. c. . 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 august, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-three, and in the thirty-third year of our reign. "by the king, in his council. "rechtm�ssig, 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! footnotes: [ ] this _intelligence extraordinary_, i believe, first appeared in the public advertiser. i have reprinted it from a copy which i found in the gentleman's magazine. b. v. [ ] _a tous presens et à venir._ original. _preface by the british editor [dr. franklin] to "the votes and proceedings of the freeholders, and other inhabitants of the town of boston, in town-meeting assembled according to law (published by order of the town), &c[ ]._" all accounts of the discontent, so general in our colonies, have of late years been industriously smothered and concealed here, it seeming to suit the views of the american minister[ ] to have it understood, that by his great abilities, all faction was subdued, all opposition suppressed, and the whole country quieted. that the true state of affairs there may be known, and the true causes of that discontent well understood, the following piece (not the production of a private writer, but the unanimous act of a large american city) lately printed in new england, is republished here. this nation, and the other nations of europe, may thereby learn, with more certainty, the grounds of a dissention, that possibly may, sooner or later, have consequences interesting to them all. the colonies had, from their first settlement, been governed with more ease than perhaps can be equalled by any instance in history of dominions so distant. their affection and respect for this country, while they were treated with kindness, produced an almost implicit obedience to the instructions of the prince, and even to acts of the british parliament, though the right of binding them by a legislature, in which they were unrepresented, was never clearly understood. that respect and affection produced a partiality in favour of every thing that was english; whence their preference of english modes and manufactures; their submission to restraints on the importation of foreign goods, which they had but little desire to use; and the monopoly we so long enjoyed of their commerce, to the great enriching of our merchants and artificers. the mistaken policy of the stamp act first disturbed this happy situation; but the flame thereby raised was soon extinguished by its repeal, and the old harmony restored, with all its concomitant advantage to our commerce. the subsequent act of another administration, which, not content with an established exclusion of foreign manufactures, began to make our own merchandize dearer to the consumers there by heavy duties, revived it again; and combinations were entered into throughout the continent, to stop trading with britain till those duties should be repealed. all were accordingly repealed but one--_the duty on tea_. this was reserved (professedly so) as a standing claim and exercise of the right, assumed by parliament, of laying such duties[ ]. the colonies, on this repeal, retracted their agreement, so far as related to all other goods, except that on which the duty was retained. this was trumpeted here by the minister for the colonies as a triumph; there it was considered only as a decent and equitable measure, showing a willingness to meet the mother-country in every advance towards a reconciliation; and this disposition to a good understanding was so prevalent, that possibly they might soon have relaxed in the article of tea also. but the system of commissioners of customs, officers without end, with fleets and armies for collecting and enforcing those duties, being continued; and these acting with much indiscretion and rashness (giving great and unnecessary trouble and obstruction to business, commencing unjust and vexatious suits, and harassing commerce in all its branches, while that minister kept the people in a constant state of irritation by instructions which appeared to have no other end than the gratifying his private resentment[ ]) occasioned a persevering adherence to their resolutions in that particular; and the event should be a lesson to ministers, not to risque, through pique, the obstructing any one branch of trade; since the course and connection of general business may be thereby disturbed to a degree, impossible to be foreseen or imagined. for it appears, that the colonies, finding their humble petitions to have this duty repealed were rejected and treated with contempt, and that the produce of the duty was applied to the rewarding, with undeserved salaries and pensions, every one of their enemies; the duty itself became more odious, and their resolution to starve it more vigorous and obstinate. the dutch, the danes, and french, took this opportunity, thus offered them by our imprudence, and began to smuggle their teas into the plantations. at first this was something difficult; but at length, as all business is improved by practice, it became easy. a coast fifteen hundred miles in length could not in all parts be guarded, even by the whole navy of england; especially where their restraining authority was by all the inhabitants deemed unconstitutional, the smuggling of course considered as patriotism. the needy wretches too, who, with small salaries, were trusted to watch the ports day and night, in all weathers, found it easier and more profitable, not only to wink, but to sleep in their beds; the merchants' pay being more generous than the king's. other india goods also, which, by themselves, would not have made a smuggling voyage sufficiently profitable, accompanied tea to advantage; and it is feared the cheap french silks, formerly rejected as not to the taste of the colonies, may have found their way with the wares of india, and now established themselves in the popular use and opinion. it is supposed, that at least a million of americans drink tea twice a day, which, at the first cost here, can scarce be reckoned at less than half-a-guinea a head per annum. this market, that, in the five years which have run on since the act passed, would have paid , , guineas for tea alone into the coffers of the company, we have wantonly lost to foreigners. meanwhile it is said the duties have so diminished, that the whole remittance of the last year amounted to no more than the pitiful sum of _l._[ ] for the expence of some hundred thousands, in armed ships and soldiers to support the officers. hence the tea, and other india goods, which might have been sold in america, remain rotting in the company's warehouses[ ]; while those of foreign ports are known to be cleared by the american demand. hence, in some degree, the company's inability to pay their bills; the sinking of their stock, by which millions of property have been annihilated; the lowering of their dividend, whereby so many must be distressed; the loss to government of the stipulated , _l._ a year[ ], which must make a proportionable reduction in our savings towards the discharge of our enormous debt: and hence in part the severe blow suffered by credit in general[ ], to the ruin of many families; the stagnation of business in spitalfields and at manchester, through want of vent for their goods; with other future evils, which, as they cannot, from the numerous and secret connections in general commerce, easily be foreseen, can hardly be avoided. footnotes: [ ] "boston printed: london reprinted, and sold by j. wilkie, in st. paul's church-yard. ."--i have given the reader _only the preface_. it is said, that this little piece very much irritated the ministry. it was their determination, that the americans should receive teas only from great britain. and accordingly the east-india company sent out large cargoes under their protection. the colonists every where refused, either entrance, or else permission of sale, except at boston, where, the force of government preventing more moderate measures, certain persons in disguise threw it into the sea. the preamble of the stamp act produced the tea act; the tea act produced violence; violence, acts of parliament; acts of parliament, a revolt. ----"a little neglect," says _poor richard_, "may breed great mischief: for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; for want of a horse the rider was lost; being overtaken and slain by the _enemy_; all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail." b. v. [ ] lord hilsborough.--this nobleman, already first lord of trade, was introduced in into the _new-titled office_ of secretary of state for the colonies. b. v. [ ] mr. burke tells us (in his speech in ) that this preambulary tax had lost us at once the benefit of the west and of the east; had thrown open folding-doors to contraband; and would be the means of giving the profits of the colony-trade to every nation but ourselves. he adds in the same place, "it is indeed a tax of sophistry, a tax of pedantry, a tax of disputation, a tax of war and rebellion, a tax for any thing but benefit to the imposers, or satisfaction to the subject." b. v. [ ] some of his circular letters had been criticised, and exposed by one or two of the american assemblies. [ ] "eighty-five pounds i am assured, my lords, is the whole equivalent, we have received for all the hatred and mischief, and all the infinite losses this kingdom has suffered during that year, in her disputes with north america." see the bishop of st. asaph's intended speech. b. v. [ ] at this time they contained many millions of pounds of tea, including the usual stock on hand. mr. burke, in his speech in , supposes, that america might have given a vent for ten millions of pounds. this seems to have been the greater part of the whole quantity. b. v. [ ] on account of a temporary compromise of certain disputes with government. b. v. [ ] seen in certain memorable mercantile failures in the year . b. v. _account of governor hutchinson's letters[ ]._ to the clerk of the council in waiting. (copy.) _whitehall, dec. , ._ sir, the agent for the house of representatives of the province of massachusett's bay [dr. franklin] having delivered to lord dartmouth, an address of that house to the king, signed by their speaker; complaining of the conduct of the governor [hutchinson] and lieutenant governor [andrew oliver] of that province, in respect to certain private letters written by them to their correspondent in england, and praying that they may be removed from their posts in that government; his lordship hath presented the said address to his majesty, and his majesty having signified his pleasure, that the said address should be laid before his majesty in his privy council, i am directed by lord dartmouth to transmit the same accordingly, together with a copy of the agent's letter to his lordship, accompanying the said address. i am, sir, your most obedient humble servant, (signed) j. pownall. to the right hon. the earl of dartmouth. (copy.) _london, aug. , ._ my lord, i have just received from the house of representatives of the massachusett's bay, their address to the king, which i now inclose, and send to your lordship, with my humble request in their behalf, that you would be pleased to present it to his majesty the first convenient opportunity. i have the pleasure of hearing from that province by my late letters, that a sincere disposition prevails in the people there to be on good terms with the mother-country; that the assembly have declared their desire only to be put into the situation they were in before the stamp act: _they aim at no novelties_. and it is said, that having lately discovered, as they think, the authors of their grievances to be some of their own people, their resentment against britain is thence much abated. this good disposition of theirs (will your lordship permit me to say) may be cultivated by a favourable answer to this address, which i therefore hope your goodness will endeavour to obtain. with the greatest respect, i have the honour to be, my lord, &c. b. franklin, _agent for the house of representatives_. the petition. to the king's most excellent majesty. most gracious sovereign, we your majesty's loyal subjects, the representatives of your ancient colony of massachusett's bay, in general court legally assembled, by virtue of your majesty's writ under the hand and seal of the governor, beg leave to lay this our humble petition before your majesty. nothing but the sense of duty we owe to our sovereign, and the obligation we are under to consult the peace and safety of the province, could induce us to remonstrate to your majesty [concerning] the mal-conduct of persons, who have heretofore had the confidence and esteem of this people; and whom your majesty has been pleased, from the purest motives of rendering your subjects happy, to advance to the highest places of trust and authority in the province. your majesty's humble petitioners, with the deepest concern and anxiety, have seen the discords and animosities which have too long subsisted between your subjects of the parent-state and those of the american colonies. and we have trembled with apprehensions, that the consequences, naturally arising therefrom, would at length prove fatal to both countries. permit us humbly to suggest to your majesty, that your subjects here have been inclined to believe, that the grievances which they have suffered, and still continue to suffer, have been occasioned by your majesty's ministers and principal servants being, unfortunately for us, _misinformed_ in certain facts of very interesting importance to us. it is for this reason that former assemblies have, from time to time, prepared a true state of facts to be laid before your majesty; but their humble remonstrances and petitions, it is presumed, have by some means been prevented from reaching your royal hand. your majesty's petitioners have very lately had before them _certain papers_, from which they humbly conceive, it is most reasonable to suppose, that there has been long a conspiracy of evil men in this province, who have contemplated measures and formed a plan to advance themselves to power, and raise their own fortunes, by means destructive of the charter of the province, at the expence of the quiet of the nation, and to the annihilating of the rights and liberties of the american colonies. and we do with all due submission to your majesty beg leave particularly to complain of the conduct of his excellency thomas hutchinson, esq. governor, and the honourable andrew oliver, esq. lieutenant-governor of this your majesty's province, as having a natural and efficacious tendency to interrupt and alienate the affections of your majesty, our rightful sovereign, from this your loyal province; to destroy that harmony and good-will between great britain and this colony, which every honest subject should strive to establish; to excite the resentment of the british administration against this province; to defeat the endeavours of our agents and friends to serve us by a fair representation of our state of facts; to prevent our humble and repeated petitions from reaching the ear of your majesty, or having their desired effect. and finally, that the said thomas hutchinson and andrew oliver have been among the chief instruments in introducing a fleet and army into this province, to establish and perpetuate their plans, whereby they have been not only greatly instrumental [in] disturbing the peace and harmony of the government, and causing unnatural and hateful discords and animosities between the several parts of your majesty's extensive dominions; but are justly chargeable with all that corruption of morals, and all that confusion, misery, and bloodshed, which have been the natural effects of posting an army in a populous town. wherefore we most humbly pray, that your majesty would be pleased to remove from their posts in this government the said thomas hutchinson, esquire, and andrew oliver, esquire; who have, by their above-mentioned conduct, and otherwise, rendered themselves justly obnoxious to your loving subjects, and entirely lost their confidence; and place such good and faithful men in their stead, as your majesty in your wisdom shall think fit. in the name and by order of the house of representatives, thomas cushing, _speaker_. to the lords committee of his majesty's privy council for plantation affairs. the petition of israel mauduit, _humbly sheweth unto your lordships_, that having been informed, that an address, in the name of the house of representatives of his majesty's colony of massachusett's bay, has been presented to his majesty by benjamin franklin, esquire, praying the removal of his majesty's governor and lieutenant-governor, which is appointed to be taken into consideration on thursday next; your petitioner, on the behalf of the said governor and lieutenant governor, humbly prays, that he may be heard by counsel in relation to the same, before your lordships shall make any report on the said address. israel mauduit. _clement's lane, jan. , ._ _the examination of dr. franklin, at the council chamber, jan. , [ ]. present, lord president, the secretaries of state, and many other lords; dr. franklin and mr. bollan; mr. mauduit and mr. wedderburn._ dr. franklin's letter and the address, mr. pownall's letter, and mr. mauduit's petition, were read. _mr. wedderburn._ the address mentions certain papers: i could wish to be informed what are those papers? _dr. franklin._ they are the letters of mr. hutchinson and mr. oliver. _court._ have you brought them? _dr. franklin._ no, but here are attested copies. _court._ do you mean to found a charge upon them? if you do, you must produce the letters. _dr. franklin._ these copies are attested by several gentlemen at boston, and a notary public. _mr. wedderburn._ my lords, we shall not take advantage of any imperfection in the proof. we admit that the letters are mr. hutchinson's and mr. oliver's hand writing: reserving to ourselves the right of inquiring how they were obtained. _dr. franklin._ i did not expect that counsel would have been employed on this occasion. _court._ had you not notice sent you of mr. mauduit's having petitioned to be heard by counsel on behalf of the governor and lieutenant governor. _dr. franklin._ i did receive such notice; but i thought this had been a matter of _politics_, not of law, and have not brought my counsel. _court._ where a charge is brought, the parties have a right to be heard by counsel or not, as they choose. _mr. mauduit._ my lords, i am not a native of that country, as these gentlemen are. i know well dr. franklin's abilities, and wish to put the defence of my friends more upon a parity with the attack; he will not therefore wonder that i choose to appear before your lordships with the assistance of counsel. my friends, in their letters to me, have desired (if any proceedings, as they say, should be had upon this address) that they may have a hearing in their own justification, that their innocence may be fully cleared, and their honour vindicated, and have made provision accordingly. i do not think myself at liberty therefore to give up the assistance of my counsel, in defending them against this unjust accusation. _court._ dr. franklin may have the assistance of counsel, or go on without it, as he shall choose. _dr. franklin._ i desire to have counsel. _court._ what time do you want? _dr. franklin._ three weeks. _ordered_ that the further proceedings be on saturday th instant[ ]. _to the printer of the public advertiser._[ ] sir, finding that two gentlemen have been unfortunately engaged in a duel about a transaction and its circumstances, of which both of them are totally ignorant and innocent, i think it incumbent upon me to declare (for the prevention of farther mischief, as far as such a declaration may contribute to prevent it) that i alone am the person, who obtained and transmitted to boston the letters in question. mr. w. could not communicate them, because they were never in his possession; and for the same reason they could not be taken from him by mr. t. they were not of the nature of _private_ letters between friends. they were written by public officers to persons in public stations, on public affairs, and intended to procure public measures; they were therefore handed to other public persons, who might be influenced by them to produce those measures. their tendency was to incense the mother-country against her colonies, and, by the steps recommended, to widen the breach, which they effected. the chief caution expressed with regard to privacy was, to keep their contents from the colony agents, who, the writers apprehended, might return them, or copies of them, to america. that apprehension was, it seems, well founded, for the first agent who laid his hands on them thought it his duty to transmit them to his constituents[ ]. _craven street, dec. , ._ b. franklin, _agent for the house of representatives of the massachusett's bay_. footnotes: [ ] governor hutchinson, lieutenant-governor andrew oliver, charles paxton, esq. nathaniel rogers, esq. and mr. g. roome, having sent from boston certain representations and informations to thomas whately, esq. member of parliament, private secretary to mr. george grenville (the father of the stamp act) when in office, and afterwards one of the lords of trade; these letters were, by a particular channel, conveyed back to boston. the assembly of the province were so much exasperated, that they returned home attested copies of the letters, accompanied with a petition and remonstrance, for the removal of governor hutchinson, and lieutenant-governor andrew oliver, from their posts. the council of the province likewise, on their part, entered into thirteen resolves, in tendency and import similar to the petition of the assembly; five of which resolves were unanimous, and only one of them had so many as three dissentients. in consequence of the assembly's petition, the above proceedings and examination took place. dr. franklin having naturally a large share in these transactions, made still larger by the impolitic and indecent persecution of his character, i have exhibited the whole more at length, than i should otherwise have thought proper. b. v. [ ] the editor has taken this examination from mr. mauduit's copy of the letters of governor hutchinson, &c. second edition, , p. . he has mr. mauduit's authority for supposing it faithfully represented. b. v. [ ] the privy council accordingly met on the th of january, , when mr. dunning and mr. john lee appeared as counsel for the assembly, and mr. wedderburn as counsel for the governor and lieutenant governor. mr. wedderburn was very long in his answer, which chiefly related to the mode of obtaining and sending away mr. whately's letters; and spoke of dr. franklin in terms of abuse, which never escape from one gentleman towards another. in the event, the committee of the privy council made a report, in which was expressed the following opinion: "the lords of the committee do agree humbly to report, as their opinion to your majesty, that the petition is founded upon resolutions formed on false and erroneous allegations; and is groundless, vexatious, and scandalous, and calculated only for the seditious purposes of keeping up a spirit of clamour and discontent in the said province. and the lords of the committee do further humbly report to your majesty, that nothing has been laid before them which does or can, in their opinion, in any manner, or in any degree, impeach the honour, integrity, or conduct of the said governor or lieutenant-governor; and their lordships are humbly of opinion, that the said petition ought to be dismissed." feb. th, . "his majesty, taking the said report into consideration, was pleased, with the advice of his privy-council, to approve thereof; and to order, that the said petition of the house of representatives of the province of massachusett's bay be dismissed the board--as groundless, vexatious, and scandalous; and calculated only for the seditious purpose of keeping up a spirit of clamour and discontent in the said province."--a former petition against governor bernard met with a dismission couched in similar terms. b. v. [ ] some letters had passed in the public prints between mr. thomas whately's brother and mr. john temple, concerning the manner in which the letters of governor hutchinson &c. had escaped from among the papers of mr. thomas whately, at this time deceased. the one gentleman wished to avoid the charge of having given them, the other of having taken them. at length the dispute became so personal and pointed, that mr. temple thought it necessary to call the brother into the field. the letter of provocation appeared in the morning, and the parties met in the afternoon. dr. franklin, was not then in town; it was after some interval that he received the intelligence. what had passed he could not foresee; he endeavoured to prevent what still might follow. b. v. [ ] it was in consequence of this letter that mr. wedderburn ventured to make the most odious personal applications. mr. mauduit has prudently omitted part of them in his account of the proceedings before the privy-council. they are given here altogether however (as well as they could be collected) to mark the politics of the times, and the nature of the censures passed in england upon dr. franklin's character. "the letters could not have come to dr. franklin," said mr. wedderburn, "by fair means. the writers did not give them to him, nor yet did the deceased correspondent, who, from our intimacy, would otherwise have told me of it: nothing then will acquit dr. franklin of the charge of obtaining them by fraudulent or corrupt means, for the most malignant of purposes; unless he stole them, from the person who stole them. this argument is irrefragable."---- "i hope, my lords, you will mark [and brand] the man, for the honour of this country, of europe, and of mankind. private correspondence has hitherto been held sacred in times of the greatest party rage, not only in politics but religion."--"he has forfeited all the respect of societies and of men. into what companies will he hereafter go with an unembarassed face, or the honest intrepidity of virtue. men will watch him with a jealous eye, they will hide their papers from him, and lock up their escrutoires. he will henceforth esteem it a libel to be called a _man of letters, homo_ trium[ ] _literarum_! "but he not only took away the letters from one brother, but kept himself concealed till he nearly occasioned the murder of the other. it is impossible to read his account, expressive of the coolest and most deliberate malice, without horror." [_here he read the letter above, dr. franklin being all the time present._]--amidst these tragical events, of one person nearly murdered, of another answerable for the issue, of a worthy governor hurt in his dearest interests, the fate of america in suspense; here is a man, who, with the utmost insensibility of remorse, stands up and avows himself the author of all. i can compare it only to zanga in dr. young's _revenge_.[ ] "know then 'twas----i: i forged the letter, i disposed the picture; i hated, i despised, and i destroy. "i ask, my lords, whether the revengeful temper, attributed by poetic fiction only to the bloody african, is not surpassed by the coolness and apathy of the wily american?" these pleadings for a time worked great effect: the lords assented, the town was convinced, dr. franklin was disgraced[ ], and mr. wedderburn seemed in the road for every kind of advancement.--unfortunately for mr. wedderburn, the events of the war did not correspond with his systems. unfortunately too for his "irrefragable argument," dr. franklin afterwards took an oath in chancery[ ], that at the time that he transmitted the letters he was ignorant of the party to whom they had been addressed, having himself received them from a third person, and for the express purpose of their being conveyed to america. unfortunately also for mr. wedderburn's "worthy governor," that governor himself, _before_ the arrival of dr franklin's packet in boston, sent over one of dr. franklin's own "private" letters to england, expressing some little coyness indeed upon the occasion, but desiring secrecy, lest he should be prevented procuring _more_ useful intelligence from the same source[ ]. whether mr. wedderburn in his speech intended to draw a particular case and portraiture, for the purpose only of injuring dr. franklin, or meant that his language and epithets should apply generally to all, whether friends or foes, whose practice should be found similar to it, is a matter that must be left to be adjusted between governor hutchinson and mr. wedderburn. but to return to dr. franklin. it was not singular perhaps, that, as a man of honour, he should surrender his name to public scrutiny in order to prevent mischief to others, and yet not betray his coadjutor (even to the present moment) to relieve his own fame from the severest obloquy; but perhaps it belonged to few besides dr. franklin, to possess mildness and magnanimity enough to refrain from intemperate expressions and measures against mr. wedderburn and his supporters, after all that had passed. b. v. [ ] i. e. fur (or _thief_). [ ] act vth. [ ] he was dismissed from his place in the post-office. [ ] a copy of the proceedings in chancery has been in my possession, but being at present mislaid i speak only from memory here. [ ] see the remembrancer for the year , part d. p. col. st, and d. _rules for reducing a great empire to a small one, presented to a late minister, when he entered upon his administration._[ ] an ancient sage valued himself upon this, that though 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 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 gingerbread-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 contrive 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, shown 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 every where 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 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 who you recommend for those offices.--if you can find prodigals, who have ruined their fortunes, broken gamesters or stock-jobbers, these may do well as governors, for they will probably be rapacious, and provoke the people by their extortions. wrangling proctors and pettyfogging 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. attorneys 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 mal-administration, 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, _recal 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 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 parliament, 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 parliament 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 government, 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 restraint 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 increased 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 entirely 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 a 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 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 persons 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, and commons had, have, 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. 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 above-mentioned arbitrary revenue-judges; all at the cost of the party prosecuted, though 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, and 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 augmenting 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 own 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 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 show 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 pennyworth of pins is found un-entered, 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 their orchards, steal their pigs and 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 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 their and 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 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 thenceforth and for ever. footnotes: [ ] these rules first appeared in a london newspaper about the beginning of the year , and have several times since been introduced into our public prints.--the minister alluded to is supposed to be the earl of hillsborough. "the causes and motions of seditions (says lord bacon) are, innovation in religion, taxes, alteration of laws and customs, breaking of privileges, general oppression, advancement of unworthy persons, strangers, dearths, disbanded soldiers, factions grown desperate, and whatsoever in offending people joineth and knitteth them in a common cause." b. v. [ ] one of the american writers affirms, "that there has not been a single instance in which _they_ have complained, without being rebuked, or in which they have been complained _against_, without being punished."--a fundamental mistake in the minister occasioned this. every individual in new england (the peccant country) was held a coward or a knave, and the disorders, which spread abroad there, were treated as the result of the _too great lenity_ of britain! by the aid of this short and benevolent rule, judgment was ever wisely predetermined, to the shutting out redress on the one hand, and inforcing every rigour of punishment on the other. b. v. [ ] i am not versed in indian affairs, but i find, that in april, , the assembled chiefs of the western nations told one of our indian agents, "that they remembered their father, the king of great britain's message, delivered to them last fall, of demolishing fort pittsburg (on the ohio) and removing the soldiers with their sharp-edged weapons out of the country:--this gave them great pleasure, as it was a strong proof of his paternal kindness towards them." (see considerations on the agreement with mr. t. walpole for lands upon the ohio, p. ). this is general history: i attempt no application of facts, personally invidious. b. v. [ ] as the reader may be inclined to divide his belief between the wisdom of ministry and the candor and veracity of dr. franklin, i shall inform him that two contrary objections may be made to the truth of this representation. the first is, that the conduct of great britain is made _too_ absurd for possibility, and the second, that it is not made absurd _enough_ for fact. if we consider that this piece does not include the measures subsequent to , the latter difficulty is easily set aside. the former i can only solve by the many instances in history, where the infatuation of individuals has brought the heaviest calamities upon nations. b. v. _state of america on dr. franklin's arrival there._ _philadelphia, may , ._ dear friend[ ], you will have heard before this reaches you, of a march stolen by the regulars into the country by night, and of their _expedition_ back again. they retreated miles in [ ] hours. the governor had called the assembly to propose lord north's pacific plan, but, before the time of their meeting, began cutting of throats.--you know it was said he carried the sword in one hand, and the olive branch in the other; and it seems he chose to give them a taste of the sword first. he is doubling his fortifications at boston, and hopes to secure his troops till succour arrives. the place indeed is naturally so defensible, that i think them in no danger. all america is exasperated by his conduct, and more firmly united than ever. the breach between the two countries is grown wider, and in danger of becoming irreparable. i had a passage of six weeks, the weather constantly so moderate that a london wherry might have accompanied us all the way. i got home in the evening, and the next morning was unanimously chosen by the assembly a delegate to the congress, now sitting. in coming over, i made a valuable philosophical discovery, which i shall communicate to you when i can get a little time. at present am extremely hurried. * * * * * yours most affectionately, b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] i run much risque in the publication of the three following letters[ ]; but i think they contain such valuable facts, and show so well the nature of dr. franklin's temper, that i ought to encounter some difficulty, rather than suffer them to be lost. b. v. [ ] the other two letters will be found in the order of their dates, july , and oct. , . _editor._ _proposed vindication and offer from congress to parliament, in [ ]._ forasmuch as the enemies of america, in the parliament of great britain, to render us odious to the nation, and give an ill impression of us in the minds of other european powers, have represented us as unjust and ungrateful in the highest degree; asserting on every occasion, that the colonies were settled at the expence of britain; that they were, at the expence of the same, protected in their infancy; that they now ungratefully and unjustly refuse to contribute to their own protection, and the common defence of the nation; that they aim at independence; that they intend an abolition of the navigation acts; and that they are fraudulent in their commercial dealings, and purpose to cheat their creditors in britain, by avoiding the payment of their just debts:-- [and] as, by frequent repetition, these groundless assertions and malicious calumnies may, if not contradicted and refuted, obtain farther credit, and be injurious throughout europe to the reputation and interest of the confederate colonies, it seems proper and necessary to examine them in our own just vindication. with regard to the first, _that the colonies were_ settled _at the expence of britain_, it is a known fact, that none of the twelve united colonies were settled, or even discovered, at the expence of england. henry the viith indeed granted a commission to sebastian cabot, a venetian, and his sons, to sail into the western seas for the discovery of new countries; but it was to be "_suis_ eorum propriis sumptibus et expensis," at their _own_ costs and charges[ ]. they discovered, but soon slighted and neglected, these northern territories; which were, after more than a hundred years dereliction, purchased of the natives, and settled at the charge and by the labour of private men and bodies of men, our ancestors, who came over hither for that purpose. but our adversaries have never been able to produce any record, that ever the _parliament_ or government of england was at the smallest expence on these accounts: on the contrary, there exists on the journals of parliament a solemn declaration in , (only twenty-two years after the first settlement of the massachusetts, when, if such expence had ever been incurred, some of the members must have known and remembered it) "that these colonies had been planted and established _without any expence to the state_.[ ]" _new-york_ is the only colony in the founding of which england can pretend to have been at any expence, and that was only the charge of a small armament to take it from the dutch, who planted it. but to retain this colony at peace, another at that time, full as valuable, planted by private countrymen of _ours_, was given up by the crown to the dutch in exchange, viz. surinam, now a wealthy sugar-colony in guiana, and which, but for that cession, might still have remained in our possession. of late, indeed, britain has been at some expence in planting two colonies, _georgia_[ ] and _nova scotia_; but those are not in our confederacy; and the expence she has been at in their name, has chiefly been in grants of sums unnecessarily large, by way of salaries to officers sent from england, and in jobs to friends, whereby dependants might be provided for; those excessive grants not being requisite to the welfare and good government of the colonies; which good government (as experience in many instances of other colonies has taught us) may be much more frugally, and full as effectually provided for, and supported. with regard to the second assertion, _that these colonies were_ protected _in their infant state by england_, it is a notorious fact, that in none of the many wars with the indian natives, sustained by our infant settlements for a century after our first arrival, were ever any troops or forces of any kind sent from england to assist us; nor were any forts built at her expence to secure our sea-ports from foreign invaders; nor any ships of war sent to protect our trade, till many years after our first settlement, when our commerce became an object of revenue, or of advantage to british merchants, and then it was thought necessary to have a frigate in some of our ports, during peace, to give weight to the authority of custom-house officers, who were to restrain that commerce for the benefit of england. our own arms, with our poverty, and the care of a kind providence, were all this time our only protection, while we were neglected by the english government; which either thought us not worth its care, or, having no good will to some of us, on account of our different sentiments in religion and politics, was indifferent what became of us. on the other hand, the colonies have not been wanting to do what they could in every war for annoying the enemies of britain. they formerly assisted her in the conquest of nova scotia. in the war before last they took louisbourg, and put it into her hands. she made her peace with that strong fortress, by restoring it to france, greatly to their detriment. in the last war, it is true, britain sent a fleet and army, who acted with an equal army of ours, in the reduction of canada; and perhaps thereby did more for us, than we in the preceding wars had done for her. let it be remembered however, that she rejected the plan we formed in the congress at albany, in , for our own defence, by an union of the colonies; an union she was jealous of, and therefore chose to send her own forces; otherwise her aid to protect us was not wanted. and from our first settlement to that time, her military operations in our favour were small, compared with the advantages she drew from her exclusive commerce with us. we are however willing to give full weight to this obligation; and as we are daily growing stronger, and our assistance to her becomes of more importance, we should with pleasure embrace the first opportunity of showing our gratitude, by returning the favour in kind. but when britain values herself as affording us protection, we desire it may be considered, that we have followed _her_ in all _her_ wars, and joined with her at our own expence against all she thought fit to quarrel with. this she has required of us, and would never permit us to keep peace with any power she declared her enemy, though by separate treaties we might well have done it. under such circumstances, when, at her instance, we made nations our enemies, whom we might otherwise have retained our friends; we submit it to the common sense of mankind, whether her protection of us in these wars was not our _just due_, and to be claimed of _right_, instead of being received as a _favour_? and whether, when all the parts of an empire exert themselves to the utmost in their common defence, and in annoying the common enemy, it is not as well the _parts_ that protect the _whole_, as the _whole_ that protects the _parts_? the protection then has been proportionably mutual. and whenever the time shall come, that our abilities may as far exceed hers, as hers have exceeded ours, we hope we shall be reasonable enough to rest satisfied with her proportionable exertions, and not think we do too much for a part of the empire, when that part does as much as it can for the whole. the charge against us, _that we refuse to_ contribute _to our own protection_, appears from the above to be groundless: but we farther declare it to be absolutely false; for it is well known, that we ever held it as our duty to grant aids to the crown, upon requisition, towards carrying on its wars; which duty we have cheerfully complied with, to the utmost of our abilities; insomuch that frequent and grateful acknowledgments thereof by king and parliament appear on their records[ ]. but as britain has enjoyed a most gainful monopoly of our commerce, the same, with our maintaining the dignity of the king's representative in each colony, and all our own separate establishments of government, civil and military, has ever hitherto been deemed an equivalent for such aids, as might otherwise be expected from us in time of peace. and we hereby declare, that on a reconciliation with britain, we shall _not only_ continue _to grant aids in time of war_, as aforesaid; but, whenever she shall think fit to abolish her monopoly, and give us the same privileges of trade as scotland received at the union, and allow us a free commerce with all the rest of the world, we shall willingly agree (and we doubt not it will be ratified by our constituents) to _give and pay_ into the sinking fund [ , _l._] sterling per annum for the term of one hundred years, which, duly, faithfully, and inviolably applied to that purpose, is demonstrably more than sufficient to extinguish _all her present national_ debt, since it will in that time amount, at legal british interest, to more than , , _l._[ ] but if britain does not think fit to accept this proposition, we, in order to remove her groundless jealousies, _that we aim at independence, and an abolition of the navigation act_, (which hath in truth never been our intention) and to avoid all future disputes about the right of making that and other acts for regulating our commerce, do hereby declare ourselves ready and willing to enter into a _covenant with britain_, that she shall fully possess, enjoy, and exercise that right, for an hundred years to come, the same being _bonâ fide_ used for the common benefit; and in case of such agreement, that every assembly be advised by us, to confirm it solemnly, by laws of their own, which, once made, cannot be repealed without the assent of the crown. the last charge, _that we are dishonest traders, and aim at defrauding our creditors in britain_, is sufficiently and authentically refuted by the solemn declarations of the british merchants to parliament, (both at the time of the stamp-act and in the last session) who bore ample testimony to the general good faith and fair dealing of the americans, and declared their confidence in our integrity, for which we refer to their petitions on the journals of the house of commons. and we presume we may safely call on the body of the british tradesmen, who have had experience of both, to say, whether they have not received much more punctual payment from us than they generally have from the members of their own two houses of parliament. on the whole of the above it appears, that the charge of _ingratitude_ towards the mother country, brought with so much confidence against the colonies, is totally without foundation; and that there is much more reason for retorting that charge on britain, who not only never contributes any aid, nor affords, by an exclusive commerce, any advantages to saxony, _her_ mother country; but no longer since than in the last war, without the least provocation, subsidized the king of prussia while he ravaged that _mother country_, and carried fire and sword into its capital, the fine city of dresden. an example we hope no provocation will induce us to imitate. footnotes: [ ] the following paper was drawn up in a committee of congress, june , , but does not appear on their minutes, a severe act of parliament, which arrived about that time, having determined them not to give the sum proposed in it.--[it was first printed in the public advertiser for july , . b. v.] [ ] see the commission in the appendix to pownall's administration of the colonies. edit. . [ ] "veneris, march, . whereas the plantations in new england have, by the blessing of the almighty, had good and prosperous success, _without any public charge to this state_, and are now likely to prove very happy for the propagation of the gospel in those parts, and very beneficial and commodious to this kingdom and nation: the commons, now assembled in parliament, &c. &c. &c." see governor hutchinson's history. b. v. [ ] georgia has since acceded, july, . [ ] supposed to allude to certain passages in the journals of the house of commons on the th of april, , th january, , d february, , th and th of may, , st of june, , th and th of april, , th and st of march, and th of april, , th and th january, , d and th january, , and th and th march, . b. v. [ ] see dr. price's appeal on the national debt. b. v. _reprobation of mr. strahan's parliamentary conduct._[ ] _philadelphia, july , ._ mr. strahan, you are a member of that parliament, and have formed part of that majority, which has condemned my native country to destruction. you have begun to burn our towns, and to destroy their inhabitants! look at your hands!--they are stained with the blood of your relations and your acquaintances. you and i were long friends; you are at present my enemy, and i am yours. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] this letter appeared, shortly after the period of its date, in most of the public papers. we extract it from the gentleman's magazine. _editor._ _conciliation hopeless from the conduct of great britain to america._ _philadelphia, july , ._ 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 accomodation 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 sea-port 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 * * * 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, 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 the 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 million 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. footnote: [ ] this and the two following letters were addressed to dr. priestley, as appears by a letter from that gentleman to the editor of the monthly magazine, which will be found in the appendix to the present volume. _editor._ _account of the first campaign made by the british forces in america[ ]._ _philadelphia, oct. , ._ dear sir, i am to set out to-morrow for the camp[ ], and having but just heard of this opportunity, can only write a line to say that i am well and hearty.--tell our dear good friend * * *, who sometimes has his doubts and despondencies about our firmness, that america is determined and unanimous; a very few tories and place-men excepted, who will probably soon export themselves.--britain, at the expence of three millions, has killed one hundred and fifty yankies this campaign, which is , _l._ a head; and at bunker's hill she gained a mile of ground, half of which she lost again by our taking post on ploughed hill. during the same time sixty thousand children have been born in america. from these _data_ his mathematical head will easily calculate the time and expence necessary to kill us all, and conquer our whole territory. my sincere respects to * * * *, and to the club of honest whigs at * * * * *. adieu. i am ever yours most affectionately, b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] this letter has been several times very incorrectly printed: it is here given from a genuine copy. b. v. [ ] dr. franklin, col. harrison, and mr. lynch, were at this time appointed by congress (of which they were members) to confer on certain subjects with gen. washington. the american army was then employed in blocking up gen. howe in boston; and i believe it was during this visit, that gen. washington communicated the following memorable anecdote to dr. franklin; _viz._ "that there had been a time, when this army had been so destitute of military stores, as not to have powder enough in all its magazines, to furnish more than _five_ rounds per man for their small arms." great guns were out of the question; they were fired now and then, only to show that they had them. yet this secret was kept with so much address and good countenance from both armies, that gen. washington was enabled effectually to continue the blockade. b. v. _probability of a separation._ _philadelphia, oct. , ._ i wish as ardently as you can do for peace, and should rejoice exceedingly in co-operating 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 would recal 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 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 proportionally diminish; and i see clearly we are on the high road to mutual enmity, hatred, and detestation. a separation will of course be inevitable. it is 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 you may do us a great deal of mischief, but we 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 is still sitting, and will wait the result of their _last_ petition. _letter to monsieur dumas, urging him to sound the several courts of europe, by means of their ambassadors at the hague, as to any assistance they may be disposed to afford america in her struggle for independence[ ]._ _philadelphia, dec. , ._ dear sir, i received your several favours, of may , june , and july , by messrs. vaillant and pochard; whom, if i could serve upon your recommendation, it would give me great pleasure. their total want of english is at present an obstruction to their getting any employment among us; but i hope they will soon obtain some knowledge of it. this is a good country for artificers or farmers, but gentlemen of mere science in _les belles lettres_ cannot so easily subsist here, there being little demand for their assistance among an industrious people, who, as yet, have not much leisure for studies of that kind. i am much obliged by the kind present you have made us of your edition of _vattel_. it came to us in good season, when the circumstances of a rising state make it necessary frequently to consult the law of nations. accordingly that copy which i kept (after depositing one in our own public library here, and sending the other to the college of massachusett's bay, as you directed) has been continually in the hands of the members of our congress, now sitting, who are much pleased with your notes and preface, and have entertained a high and just esteem for their author. your manuscript _idée sur le government et la royauté_, is also well relished, and may, in time, have its effect. i thank you, likewise, for the other smaller pieces, which accompanied vattel. _le court exposé de ce qui s'est passé entre la cour br. et les colonies, &c._ being a very concise and clear statement of facts, will be reprinted here for the use of our new friends in canada. the translations of the proceedings of our congress are very acceptable. i send you herewith what of them has been farther published here, together with a few newspapers, containing accounts of some of the successes providence has favoured us with. we are threatened from england with a very powerful force, to come next year against us. we are making all the provision in our power here to oppose that force, and we hope we shall be able to defend ourselves. but, as the events of war are always uncertain, possibly, after another campaign, we may find it necessary to ask aid of some foreign power. it gives us great pleasure to learn from you, that _toute l'europe nous souhaite le plus heureux succes pour le maintien de nos libertés_. but we wish to know, whether any one of them, from principles of humanity, is disposed magnanimously to step in for the relief of an oppressed people, or whether, if, as it seems likely to happen, we should be obliged to break off all connection with britain, and declare ourselves an independent people, there is any state or power in europe, who would be willing to enter into an alliance with us for the benefit of our commerce, which amounted, before the war, to near seven millions sterling per annum, and must continually increase, as our people increase most rapidly. confiding, my dear friend, in your good will to us and our cause, and in your sagacity and abilities for business, the committee of congress, appointed for the purpose of establishing and conducting a correspondence with our friends in europe, of which committee i have the honour to be a member, have directed me to request of you, that, as you are situated at the hague, where ambassadors from all the courts reside, you would make use of the opportunity that situation affords you, of discovering, if possible, the disposition of the several courts with respect to such assistance or alliance, if we should apply for the one, or propose the other. as it may possibly be necessary, in particular instances, that you should, for this purpose, confer directly with some great ministers, and show them this letter as your credential, we only recommend it to your discretion, that you proceed therein with such caution, as to keep the same from the knowledge of the english ambassador, and prevent any public appearance, at present, of your being employed in any such business, as thereby, we imagine, many inconveniences may be avoided, and your means of rendering us service, increased. that you may be better able to answer some questions, which will probably be put to you, concerning our present situation, we inform you--that the whole continent is very firmly united--the party for the measures of the british ministry being very small, and much dispersed--that we have had on foot, the last campaign, an army of near twenty-five thousand men, wherewith we have been able, not only to block up the king's army in boston, but to spare considerable detachments for the invasion of canada, where we have met with great success, as the printed papers sent herewith will inform you, and have now reason to expect the whole province may be soon in our possession--that we purpose greatly to increase our force for the ensuing year; and thereby we hope, with the assistance of well-disciplined militia, to be able to defend our coast, notwithstanding its great extent--that we have already a small squadron of armed vessels, to protect our coasting trade, who have had some success in taking several of the enemy's cruisers, and some of their transport vessels and store-ships. this little naval force we are about to augment, and expect it may be more considerable in the next summer. we have hitherto applied to no foreign power. we are using the utmost industry in endeavouring to make salt-petre, and with daily increasing success. our artificers are also every where busy in fabricating small arms, casting cannon, &c. yet both arms and ammunition are much wanted. any merchants, who would venture to send ships, laden with those articles, might make great profit; such is the demand in every colony, and such generous prices are and will be given; of which, and of the manner of conducting such a voyage, the bearer, mr. storey, can more fully inform you: and whoever brings in those articles, is allowed to carry off the value in provisions, to our west indies, where they will probably fetch a very high price, the general exportation from north america being stopped. this you will see more particularly in a printed resolution of the congress. we are in great want of good engineers, and wish you could engage, and send us two able ones, in time for the next campaign, one acquainted with field service, sieges, &c. and the other with fortifying of sea-ports. they will, if well recommended, be made very welcome, and have honourable appointments, besides the expences of their voyage hither, in which mr. storey can also advise them. as what we now request of you, besides taking up your time, may put you to some expense, we send you for the present, enclosed, a bill for one hundred pounds sterling, to defray such expences, and desire you to be assured that your services will be considered, and honourably rewarded by the congress. we desire, also, that you would take the trouble of receiving from arthur lee, esquire, agent for the congress in england, such letters as may be sent by him to your care, and of forwarding them to us with your dispatches. when you have occasion to write to him to inform him of any thing, which it may be of importance that our friends there should be acquainted with, please to send your letters to him, under cover, directed to mr. alderman lee, merchant, on tower-hill, london; and do not send it by post, but by some trusty shipper, or other prudent person, who will deliver it with his own hand. and when you send to us, if you have not a direct safe opportunity, we recommend sending by way of st. eustatia, to the care of messrs. robert and cornelius stevenson, merchants there, who will forward your dispatches to me. with sincere and great esteem and respect, i am, sir, your most obedient, humble servant, b. franklin. mons. dumas. footnote: [ ] this letter is taken from an american periodical publication entitled the port folio, in which it appeared july , . _editor._ _letter from lord howe to dr. franklin[ ]._ _eagle, june the th, ._ i cannot, my worthy friend, permit the letters and parcels, which i have sent (in the state i received them) to be landed, without adding a word upon the subject of the injurious extremities in which our unhappy disputes have engaged us. you will learn the nature of my mission, from the official dispatches which i have recommended to be forwarded by the same conveyance. retaining all the earnestness i ever expressed, to see our differences accommodated; i shall conceive, if i meet with the disposition in the colonies which i was once taught to expect, the most flattering hopes of proving serviceable in the objects of the king's paternal solicitude, by promoting the establishment of lasting peace and union with the colonies. but if the deep-rooted prejudices of america, and the necessity of preventing her trade from passing into foreign channels, must keep us still a divided people; i shall, from every private as well as public motive, most heartily lament, that this is not the moment wherein those great objects of my ambition are to be attained; and that i am to be longer deprived of an opportunity, to assure you personally of the regard with which i am your sincere and faithful humble servant, howe. p. s. i was disappointed of the opportunity i expected for sending this letter, at the time it was dated; and have ever since been prevented by calms and contrary winds from getting here, to inform general howe of the commission with which i have the satisfaction to be charged, and of his being joined in it. _off of sandy hook, th of july._ superscribed, howe. _to benjamin franklin, esq. philadelphia._ footnote: [ ] in the year an act of parliament passed, to prohibit and restrain, on the one hand, the trade and intercourse of the refractory colonies respectively during the revolt; and on the other hand, to enable persons appointed by the crown to grant _pardons_ and declare any particular district at the _king's peace, &c._ lord howe (who had been previously appointed commander of the fleet in north america) was, on may , declared joint _commissioner_ with his brother gen. howe, for the latter purposes of the act. he sailed may ; and while off the massachusett's coast prepared a declaration announcing this commission, and accompanied it with circular letters. july , independence had been declared; but nevertheless congress (invited by various attempts made to procure a conference) resolved to send messieurs franklin, j. adams, and e. rutledge, to learn the propositions of the commissioners, by whom authorized, and to whom addressed. the commissioners having no power to treat with congress in its public capacity, and congress not being impowered by their representatives to rescind the act of independence, the conference was broken off. it remains only to add, that, on sept. , the commissioners declared themselves ready to confer with any of the well-affected, on the means of restoring peace and permanent union with every colony as part of the british empire; and promised a _revision_ of the several royal _instructions_ supposed to lay improper restraints on colony-legislation, and also the king's _concurrence_ in a revision of the objectionable acts of parliament: which seemed the ultimatum of the commission.--parliament however, by a subsequent act (which, among other things, formally renounced taxation in north america and the west indies) authorized five commissioners to treat, settle, and agree, even with congress; but subject to the farther confirmation of parliament. lord carlisle, and messieurs johnson and eden, with the commanders in chief of the land and sea forces, were the commissioners appointed by the crown under this act; and dr. adam ferguson was made secretary to the commission. mr. henry strachey had been secretary to the _first_ commission, attended with the following singular circumstance, as stated in the house of lords. in this commission for restoring peace to america, "(or _in other words_ to induce america at once to put a confidence in the crown, and to believe that the parliament of england is a sufficiently powerful and honest barrier for them to trust to) the secretary (mr. strachey) had _l._ granted for life out of the _four and a half_ per cent. duty, filched by the crown from the west-india islands, and in opposition to a solemn address of parliament desiring that it might be applied to the original purposes for which it was granted by the respective assemblies of the islands."--what these original purposes of the grants were, i meant very briefly to have stated: but have not been able to procure the proper documents in time. b. v. _dr. franklin's answer to lord howe._ _philadelphia, july , ._ my lord, i received 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 so far on so hopeless 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 uninformed and proud nation has long been pleased to entertain of us; but it can have no other effect than that of encreasing our resentments.----it is impossible we should think of submission to a government, that has, with the most wanton barbarity and cruelty, burned our defenceless towns in the midst of winter; excited the savages to massacre our (peaceful) 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 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 causes 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 by 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 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, she might recover a great share of our regard; and the greatest share of our growing commerce, with all the advantages of that additional strength, to be derived from a friendship with us; yet 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 thirst for a gainful monopoly as a commercial one (none of them legitimate causes of war) will join to hide from her eyes every view of her true interest, and continually goad her on in these ruinous distant expeditions, so destructive both of lives and of treasure, that they must prove as pernicious to her in the end, as the croisades formerly were to most of the nations of 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 porcelaine vase----the british empire; for i knew that being once broken, the separate parts could not retain even their _share_ of the strength and value that existed in the whole; and that a perfect _re-union_ of those parts could scarce ever be hoped for. your lordship may possibly remember the tears of joy that wetted 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 these expectations disappointed, and to be treated as the cause of the mischief i was labouring 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, make it painful to me to see you engaged in conducting a war, the great ground of which (as described 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 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 are the goodness and cheapness of commodities; and that the profits of no trade can ever be equal to the expence of compelling it, and holding it by fleets and armies. i consider this war against us, therefore, as both unjust and unwise; and i am persuaded, that cool and dispassionate posterity will condemn to infamy those who advised it; and that even success will not save from some degree of dishonour, those who have 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 then 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[ ]. footnotes: [ ] about this time the hessians, &c. had just arrived from europe, at staten island and new york. b. v. [ ] it occurs to me to mention that dr. franklin was supposed to have been the inventor of a little _emblematical design_ at the commencement of our disputes, representing the state of great britain and her colonies, should the former persist in restraining the latter's trade, destroying their currency, and taxing their people by laws made by a legislature in which they were not represented.--great britain was supposed to have been placed upon the globe: but the colonies, her limbs, being severed from her, she was seen lifting her eyes and mangled stumps to heaven; her shield, which she was unable to wield, lay useless by her side; her lance had pierced new england; the laurel branch was fallen from the hand of pensylvania; the english oak had lost its head, and stood a bare trunk with a few withered branches; briars and thorns were on the ground beneath it; our ships had brooms at their topmast heads, denoting their being upon sale; and britannia herself was seen sliding off the world, no longer able to hold its balance; her fragments overspread with the label _date obolum belisario_.--this in short, was the fable of the belly and the members reversed. but i tell the story chiefly for the sake of the _moral_, which has the air of having been suggested by dr. franklin[ ]; and is as follows.--"the political moral of this picture is now easily discovered. history affords us many instances of the ruin of states, by the prosecution of measures ill suited to the temper and genius of its people. the ordaining of laws in favour of _one_ part of the nation, to the prejudice and oppression of _another_, is certainly the most erroneous and mistaken policy. an _equal_ dispensation of protection, rights, privileges, and advantages, is what every part is intitled to, and ought to enjoy; it being a matter of no moment to the state, whether a subject grows rich and flourishing on the thames or the ohio, in edinburgh or dublin. these measures never fail to create great and violent jealousies and animosities between the people favoured and the people oppressed: from whence a total separation of affections, interests, political obligations, and all manners of connections, necessarily ensues; by which the whole state is weakened and perhaps ruined for ever." this language is part of the same system with the following fragment of a sentence, which dr. franklin inserted in a political publication of one of his friends. "the attempts to establish _arbitrary power_ over so great a part of the british empire, [are] to the imminent hazard of our most valuable commerce, and of that national strength, security, and felicity, which depend on _union_ and _liberty_;"--the preservation of which, i am told, he used to say, had been the great object and labour of his life; the whole being such a thing _as the world before never saw_. b. v. [ ] this design was printed on a _card_, and dr. franklin at the time i believe occasionally used to write his notes on such cards. it was also printed on a _half sheet of paper_, with an explanation by some other person, and the moral given above. the drawing was but moderately executed. _comparison of great britain and america as to credit, in [ ]._ in borrowing money a man's credit depends on some or all of the following particulars. first, his known conduct respecting former loans, and his punctuality in discharging them. secondly, his industry. thirdly, his frugality. fourthly, the amount and the certainty of his income, and the freedom of his estate from the incumbrances of prior debts. fifthly, his well founded prospects of greater future ability, by the improvement of his estate in value, and by aids from others. sixthly, his known prudence in managing his general affairs, and the advantage they will probably receive from the loan which he desires. seventhly, his known probity and honest character, manifested by his voluntary discharge of debts, which he could not have been legally compelled to pay. the circumstances which give credit to an _individual_ ought to have, and will have, their weight upon the lenders of money to _public bodies_ or nations. if then we consider and compare britain and america, in these several particulars, upon the question, "to which is it safest to lend money?" we shall find, . respecting _former loans_, that america, which borrowed ten millions during the last war for the maintenance of her army of , men and other charges, had faithfully discharged and paid that debt, and all her other debts, in . whereas britain, during those ten years of peace and profitable commerce, had made little or no reduction of her debt; but on the contrary, from time to time, diminished the hopes of her creditors, by a wanton diversion and misapplication of the sinking fund destined for discharging it. . respecting _industry_; every man [in america] is employed, the greater part in cultivating their own lands, the rest in handicrafts, navigation, and commerce. an idle man there is a rarity, idleness and inutility are disgraceful. in england, the number of that character is immense, fashion has spread it far and wide; hence the embarrassments of private fortunes, and the daily bankruptcies arising from an universal fondness for appearance and expensive pleasures; and hence, in some degree, the mismanagement of public business; for habits of business, and ability in it, are acquired only by practice; and where universal dissipation, and the perpetual pursuit of amusement are the mode, the youth, educated in it, can rarely afterwards acquire that patient attention and close application to affairs, which are so necessary to a statesman charged with the care of national welfare. _hence_ their frequent errors in policy, and hence the weariness at public councils, and backwardness in going to them, the constant unwillingness to engage in any measure that requires thought and consideration, and the readiness for postponing every new proposition; which postponing is therefore the only part of business that they come to be expert in, an expertness produced necessarily by so much daily practice. whereas in america, men bred to close employment in their private affairs, attend with ease to those of the public, when engaged in them, and nothing fails through negligence. . respecting _frugality_; the manner of living in america is more simple and less expensive than that in england: plain tables, plain clothing, and plain furniture in houses prevail, with few carriages of pleasure; there, an expensive appearance hurts credit, and is avoided: in england, it is often assumed to gain credit, and continued to ruin. respecting _public_ affairs, the difference is still greater. in england, the salaries of officers, and emoluments of office are enormous. the king has a million sterling per annum, and yet cannot maintain his family free of debt: secretaries of state, lords of treasury, admiralty, &c. have vast appointments: an auditor of the exchequer has sixpence in the pound, or a fortieth part of all the public money expended by the nation; so that when a war costs forty millions one million is paid to him: an inspector of the mint, in the last new coinage, received as his fee , _l._ sterling per annum; to all which rewards no service these gentlemen can render the public is by any means equivalent. all this is paid by the people, who are oppressed by taxes so occasioned, and thereby rendered less able to contribute to the payment of necessary national debts. in america, salaries, where indispensible, are extremely low; but much of the public business is done gratis. the honour of serving the public ably and faithfully is deemed sufficient. _public spirit_ really exists there, and has great effects. in england it is universally deemed a non-entity, and whoever pretends to it is laughed at as a fool, or suspected as a knave. the committees of congress which form the board of war, the board of treasury, the board of foreign affairs, the naval board, that for accounts, &c. all attend the business of their respective functions, without any salary or emolument whatever, though they spend in it much more of their time than any lord of treasury or admiralty in england can spare from his amusements. a british minister lately computed, that the whole expence of the americans, in their _civil_ government over three millions of people amounted to but , _l._ sterling, and drew from thence a conclusion, that they ought to be taxed, until their expence was equal in proportion to that which it costs britain to govern eight millions. he had no idea of a contrary conclusion, that if three millions may be well governed for , _l._ eight millions may be as well governed for three times that sum, and that therefore the expence of his own government should be diminished. in that corrupted nation no man is ashamed of being concerned in lucrative _government jobs_, in which the public money is egregiously misapplied and squandered, the treasury pillaged, and more numerous and heavy taxes accumulated, to the great oppression of the people. but the prospect of a greater number of such jobs by a war is an inducement with many, to cry out for war upon all occasions, and to oppose every proposition of peace. hence the constant increase of the national debt, and the absolute improbability of its ever being discharged. . respecting the _amount and certainty of income, and solidity of security_; the _whole_ thirteen states of america are engaged for the payment of every debt contracted by the congress, and the debt to be contracted by the present war is the _only_ debt they will have to pay; all, or nearly all, the former debts of particular colonies being already discharged. whereas england will have to pay not only the enormous debt this war must occasion, but all their vast preceding debt, or the interest of it,--and while america is enriching itself by prizes made upon the british commerce, more than it ever did by any commerce of its own, under the restraints of a british monopoly; britain is growing poorer by the loss of that monopoly, and the diminution of its revenues, and of course less able to discharge the present indiscreet increase of its expences. . respecting prospects of greater future ability, britain has none such. her islands are circumscribed by the ocean; and excepting a few parks or forests, she has no new land to cultivate, and cannot therefore extend her improvements. her numbers too, instead of increasing from increased subsistence, are continually diminishing from growing luxury, and the increasing difficulties of maintaining families, which of course discourage early marriages. thus she will have fewer people to assist in paying her debts, and that diminished number will be poorer. america, on the contrary, has, besides her lands already cultivated, a vast territory yet to be cultivated; which, being cultivated, continually increases in value with the increase of people; and the people, who double themselves by a _natural propagation_ every twenty-five years, will double yet faster, by the accession of _strangers_, as long as lands are to be had for new families; so that every twenty years there will be a double number of inhabitants obliged to discharge the public debts; and those inhabitants, being more opulent, may pay their shares with greater ease. . respecting _prudence_ in general affairs, and the advantages to be expected from the loan desired; the americans are cultivators of land; those engaged in fishery and commerce are few, compared with the others. they have ever conducted their several governments with wisdom, avoiding wars, and vain expensive projects, delighting only in their peaceable occupations, which must, considering the extent of their uncultivated territory, find them employment still for ages. whereas england, ever unquiet, ambitious, avaricious, imprudent, and quarrelsome, is half of the time engaged in war, always at an expence infinitely greater than the advantage to be obtained by it, if successful. thus they made war against spain in , for a claim of about , _l._ (scarce a groat for each individual of the nation) and spent forty millions sterling in the war, and the lives of fifty thousand men; and finally made peace without obtaining satisfaction for the sum claimed. indeed, there is scarce a nation in europe, against which she has not made war on some frivolous pretext or other, and thereby imprudently accumulated a debt, that has brought her on the verge of bankruptcy. but the most indiscreet of all her wars, is the present against america, with whom she might, for ages, have preserved her profitable connection only by a just and equitable conduct. she is now acting like a mad shop-keeper, who, by beating those that pass his doors, attempts to make them come in and be his customers. america cannot submit to such treatment, without being first ruined, and, being ruined, her custom will be worth nothing. england, to effect this, is increasing her debt, and irretrievably ruining herself. america, on the other hand, aims only to establish her liberty, and that freedom of commerce which will be advantageous to all europe; and by abolishing that monopoly which she laboured under, she will profit infinitely more than enough to repay any debt, which she may contract to accomplish it. . respecting _character in the honest payment of debts_; the punctuality with which america has discharged her public debts was shown under the first head. and the general good disposition of the people to such punctuality has been manifested in their faithful payment of _private_ debts to england, since the commencement of this war. there were not wanting some politicians [in america] who proposed _stopping that payment_, until peace should be restored, alleging, that in the usual course of commerce, and of the credit given, there was always a debt existing equal to the trade of eighteen months: that the trade amounting to five millions sterling per annum, the debt must be seven millions and an half; that this sum paid to the british merchants would operate to prevent that distress, intended to be brought upon britain, by our stoppage of commerce with her; for the merchants, receiving this money, and no orders with it for farther supplies, would either lay it out in the public funds, or in employing manufacturers to accumulate goods for a future hungry market in america upon an expected accommodation, by which means the funds would be kept up and the manufacturers prevented from murmuring. but _against this it was alleged_, that injuries from ministers should not be revenged on merchants; that the credit was in consequence of private contracts, made in confidence of good faith; that these ought to be held sacred and faithfully complied with; for that, whatever public utility might be supposed to arise from a breach of private faith, it was unjust, and would in the end be found unwise--honesty being in truth the best policy. on this principle the proposition was universally rejected; and though the english prosecuted the war with unexampled barbarity, burning our defenceless towns in the midst of winter, and arming savages against us; the debt was punctually paid; and the merchants of london have testified to the parliament, and will testify to all the world, that from their experience in dealing with us they had, before the war, no apprehension of our unfairness; and that since the war they have been convinced, that their good opinion of us was well founded. england, on the contrary, an old, corrupt, extravagant, and profligate nation, sees herself deep in debt, which she is in no condition to pay; and yet is madly, and dishonestly running deeper, without any possibility of discharging her debt, but by a public bankruptcy. it appears, therefore, from the general industry, frugality, ability, prudence, and virtue of america, that she is a much safer debtor than britain;--to say nothing of the satisfaction generous minds must have in reflecting, that by loans to america they are opposing tyranny, and aiding the cause of liberty, which is the cause of all mankind. footnote: [ ] this paper was written, translated, printed, and circulated, while dr. franklin was at the court of paris, for the purpose of inducing foreigners to lend money to america in preference to great britain. papers, descriptive of america, or relating to that country, written _subsequent to the revolution_. papers, descriptive of america, or relating to that country, written _subsequent to the revolution_. _remarks concerning the savages of north-america[ ]._ savages we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we think the perfection of civility; they think the same of theirs. perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of rudeness. the indian men, when young, are hunters and warriors; when old, counsellors; for all their government is by the council or advice of the sages; there is no force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel obedience, or inflict punishment. hence they generally study oratory, the best speaker having the most influence. the indian women till the ground, dress the food, nurse and bring up the children, and preserve and hand down to posterity the memory of public transactions. these employments of men and women are accounted natural and honourable. having few artificial wants, they have abundance of leisure for improvement by conversation. our laborious manner of life, compared with theirs, they esteem slavish and base; and the learning on which we value ourselves, they regard as frivolous and useless. an instance of this occurred at the treaty of lancaster, in pensylvania, anno , between the government of virginia and the six nations. after the principal business was settled, the commissioners from virginia acquainted the indians by a speech, that there was at williamsburg a college, with a fund, for educating indian youth; and that if the chiefs of the six nations would send down half a dozen of their sons to that college, the government would take care that they should be well provided for, and instructed in all the learning of the white people. it is one of the indian rules of politeness, not to answer a public proposition the same day that it is made; they think it would be treating it as a light matter, and that they show it respect by taking time to consider it, as of a matter important. they therefore deferred their answer till the day following; when their speaker began, by expressing their deep sense of the kindness of the virginia government, in making them that offer; "for we know," says he, "that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. we are convinced therefore, that you mean to do us good by your proposal; and we thank you heartily. but you, who are wise, must know, that different nations have different conceptions of things; and you will therefore not take it amiss, if our ideas of this kind of education happen not to be the same with yours. we have had some experience of it: several of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces; they were instructed in all your sciences; but when they came back to us, they were bad runners, ignorant of every means of living in the woods, unable to bear either cold or hunger, knew neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill an enemy, spoke our language imperfectly, were therefore neither fit for hunters, warriors, or counsellors; they were totally good for nothing. we are however not the less obliged by your kind offer, though we decline accepting it: and to show our grateful sense of it, if the gentlemen of virginia will send us a dozen of their sons, we will take great care of their education, instruct them in all we know, and make _men_ of them." having frequent occasions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducting them. the old men sit in the foremost ranks, the warriors in the next, and the women and children in the hindmost. the business of the women is to take exact notice of what passes, imprint it in their memories, for they have no writing, and communicate it to their children. they are the records of the council, and they preserve tradition of the stipulations in treaties a hundred years back; which, when we compare with our writings, we always find exact. he that would speak, rises. the rest observe a profound silence. when he has finished and sits down, they leave him five or six minutes to recollect, that, if he has omitted 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 reckoned highly indecent. how different this is from the conduct of a polite british house of commons, where scarce a day passes without some confusion, that makes the speaker hoarse in calling _to order_; and how different from the mode of conversation in many polite companies of europe, where, if you do not deliver your sentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in the middle of it by the impatient loquacity of those you converse with, and never suffered to finish it! the politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed carried to excess, since it does not permit them to contradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their presence. by this means they indeed avoid disputes; but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impression you make upon them. the missionaries who have attempted to convert them to christianity, all complain of this as one of the great difficulties of their mission. the indians hear with patience the truths of the gospel explained to them, and give their usual tokens of assent and approbation: you would think they were convinced. no such matter. it is mere civility. a swedish minister, having assembled the chiefs of the sasquehannah indians, made a sermon to them, acquainting them with the principal historical facts on which our religion is founded; such as the fall of our first parents by eating an apple, the coming of christ to repair the mischief, his miracles and 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 obliged by your kindness in coming so far, to tell us those things which you have heard from your mothers. in return, i will tell you some of those we have heard from ours. "in the beginning, our fathers had only the flesh of animals to subsist on, and if their hunting was unsuccessful, they were starving. two of our young hunters having killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to broil some parts of it. when they were about to satisfy their hunger, they beheld a beautiful young woman descend from the clouds, and seat herself on that hill which you see yonder among the blue mountains. they said to each other, it is a spirit that perhaps has smelt our broiling venison, and wishes to eat of it: let us offer some to her. they presented her with the tongue: she was pleased with the taste of it, and said, your kindness shall be rewarded. come to this place after thirteen moons, and you shall find something that will be of great benefit in nourishing you and your children to the latest generations. they did so, and to their surprise, found plants they had never seen before; but which, from that ancient time, have been constantly cultivated among us, to our great advantage. where her right hand had touched the ground, they found maize; where her left hand had touched it, they found kidney-beans; and where 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 falsehood." the indian, offended, replied, "my brother, it seems your friends have not done you justice in your education; they have not well instructed you in the rules of common civility. you saw that we, who understand and practice those rules, believed all your stories, why do you refuse to believe ours?" when any of them come into our towns, our people are apt to crowd 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 entering one another's villages has likewise its rules. it is reckoned uncivil in travelling strangers, to enter a village abruptly, without giving notice of their approach. therefore, as soon as they arrive within hearing, they stop and 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 placed, while the old men go round from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants, that strangers are arrived, who are probably hungry and weary; and every one sends them what he can spare of victuals, and skins to repose on. when the strangers are refreshed, pipes and tobacco are brought; and then, but not before, conversation begins, with enquiries who they are, whither bound, what news, &c. and it usually ends with offers of service, if the strangers have occasion for guides, or any necessaries for continuing their journey; and nothing is exacted for the entertainment. the same hospitality, esteemed among them as a principal virtue, is practised by private persons; of which _conrad weiser_, our interpreter, gave me the following instance. he had been naturalized among the six nations, and spoke well the mohuck language. in going through the indian country, to carry a message from our governor to the council at onondaga, he called at the habitation of canassetego, an old acquaintance, who embraced him, spread furs for him to sit on, and placed before him some boiled beans and venison, and mixed some rum and water for his drink. when he was well refreshed, and had lit his pipe, canassetego began to converse with him: asked how he had fared the many years since they had seen each other, whence he then came, what occasioned 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 used generally to deal with hans hanson; but i was a little inclined this time to try some other merchants. however, i called first upon hans, and asked him what he would give for beaver. he said he could not give 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 i 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 looked much at me, and at hanson, i imagined 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 mentioned 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. 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 learned some before this time. but they are still ignorant. you know our practice. if a white man, in travelling through our country, enters one of our cabins, we all treat him as i do you; we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and 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_." footnotes: [ ] this paper and the two next in order were published in separate pamphlets in this country, in the year , and afterwards, in , formed part of a small collection of our author's papers, printed for dilly. it is from this collection we extract them. _editor._ [ ] it is remarkable, that in all ages and countries, hospitality has been allowed as the virtue of those, whom the civilized were pleased to call barbarians. the greeks celebrated the scythians for it, the saracens possessed 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." _the internal state of america; being a true description of the interest and policy of that vast continent._ there is a tradition, that, in the planting of new-england, the first settlers met with many difficulties and hardships; as is generally the case when a civilized people attempt establishing themselves in a wilderness country. being piously disposed, they sought relief from heaven, by laying their wants and distresses before the lord, in frequent set days of fasting and prayer. constant meditation and discourse on these subjects kept their minds gloomy and discontented; and, like the children of israel, there were many disposed to return to that egypt, which persecution had induced them to abandon. at length, when it was proposed in the assembly to proclaim another fast, a farmer of plain sense rose, and remarked, that the inconveniences they suffered, and concerning which they had so often wearied heaven with their complaints, were not so great as they might have expected, and were diminishing every day as the colony strengthened; that the earth began to reward their labour, and to furnish liberally for their subsistence; that the seas and rivers were found full of fish, the air sweet, the climate healthy; and, above all, that they were there in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and religious: he therefore thought, that reflecting and conversing on these subjects would be more comfortable, as tending more to make them contented with their situation; and that it would be more becoming the gratitude they owed to the divine being, if, instead of a fast, they should proclaim a thanksgiving. his advice was taken; and from that day to this they have, in every year, observed circumstances of public felicity sufficient to furnish employment for a thanksgiving day; which is therefore constantly ordered and religiously observed. i see in the public newspapers of different states frequent complaints of _hard times, deadness of trade, scarcity of money, &c. &c._ it is not my intention to assert or maintain, that these complaints are entirely without foundation. there can be no country or nation existing, in which there will not be some people so circumstanced, as to find it hard to gain a livelihood; people who are not in the way of any profitable trade, and with whom money is scarce, because they have nothing to give in exchange for it; and it is always in the power of a small number to make a great clamour. but let us take a cool view of the general state of our affairs, and perhaps the prospect will appear less gloomy than has been imagined. the great business of the continent is agriculture. for one artisan, or merchant, i suppose, we have at least one hundred farmers, by far the greatest part cultivators of their own fertile lands, from whence many of them draw not only food necessary for their subsistence, but the materials of their clothing, so as to need very few foreign supplies; while they have a surplus of productions to dispose of, whereby wealth is gradually accumulated. such has been the goodness of divine providence to these regions, and so favourable the climate, that, since the three or four years of hardship in the first settlement of our fathers here, a famine or scarcity has never been heard of amongst us; on the contrary, though some years may have been more, and others less plentiful, there has always been provision enough for ourselves, and a quantity to spare for exportation. and although the crops of last year were generally good, never was the farmer better paid for the part he can spare commerce, as the published price currents abundantly testify. the lands he possesses are also continually rising in value with the increase of population; and, on the whole, he is enabled to give such good wages to those who work for him, that all who are acquainted with the old world must agree, that in no part of it are the labouring poor so generally well fed, well clothed, well lodged, and well paid, as in the united states of america. if we enter the cities, we find, that, since the revolution, the owners of houses and lots of ground have had their interest vastly augmented in value; rents have risen to an astonishing height, and thence encouragement to increase building, which gives employment to an abundance of workmen, as does also the increased luxury and splendour of living of the inhabitants, thus made richer. these workmen all demand and obtain much higher wages than any other part of the world would afford them, and are paid in ready money. this rank of people therefore do not, or ought not, to complain of hard times; and they make a very considerable part of the city inhabitants. at the distance i live from our american fisheries, i cannot speak of them with any degree of certainty; but i have not heard, that the labour of the valuable race of men employed in them is worse paid, or that they meet with less success, than before the revolution. the whale-men indeed have been deprived of one market for their oil; but another, i hear, is opening for them, which it is hoped may be equally advantageous; and the demand is constantly increasing for their spermaceti candles, which therefore bear a much higher price than formerly. there remain the merchants and shopkeepers. of these, though they make but a small part of the whole nation, the number is considerable, too great indeed for the business they are employed in; for the consumption of goods in every country has its limits; the faculties of the people, that is, their ability to buy and pay, being equal only to a certain quantity of merchandize. if merchants calculate amiss on this proportion, and import too much, they will of course find the sale dull for the overplus, and some of them will say, that trade languishes. they should, and doubtless will, grow wiser by experience, and import less. if too many artificers in town, and farmers from the country, flattering themselves with the idea of leading easier lives, turn shopkeepers, the whole natural quantity of that business divided among them all may afford too small a share for each, and occasion complaints, that trading is dead; these may also suppose, that it is owing to scarcity of money, while, in fact, it is not so much from the fewness of buyers, as from the excessive number of sellers, that the mischief arises; and, if every shopkeeping farmer and mechanic would return to the use of his plough and working tools, there would remain of widows, and other women, shopkeepers sufficient for the business, which might then afford them a comfortable maintenance. whoever has travelled through the various parts of europe, and observed how small is the proportion of people in affluence or easy circumstances there, compared with those in poverty and misery; the few rich and haughty landlords, the multitude of poor, abject, rack-rented, tythe-paying tenants, and half-paid and half-starved ragged labourers; and views here the happy mediocrity, that so generally prevails throughout these states, where the cultivator works for himself, and supports his family in decent plenty, will, methinks, see abundant reason to bless divine providence for the evident and great difference in our favour, and be convinced, that no nation known to us enjoys a greater share of human felicity. it is true, that in some of the states there are parties and discords; but let us look back, and ask if we were ever without them? such will exist wherever there is liberty; and perhaps they help to preserve it. by the collision of different sentiments, sparks of truth are struck out, and political light is obtained. the different factions, which at present divide us, aim all at the public good: the differences are only about the various modes of promoting it. things, actions, measures, and objects of all kinds, present themselves to the minds of men in such a variety of lights, that it is not possible we should all think alike at the same time on every subject, when hardly the same man retains at all times the same ideas of it. parties are therefore the common lot of humanity; and ours are by no means more mischievous or less beneficial than those of other countries, nations, and ages, enjoying in the same degree the great blessing of political liberty. some indeed among us are not so much grieved for the present state of our affairs, as apprehensive for the future. the growth of luxury alarms them, and they think we are from that alone in the high road to ruin. they observe, that no revenue is sufficient without economy, and that the most plentiful income of a whole people from the natural productions of their country may be dissipated in vain and needless expences, and poverty be introduced in the place of affluence. this may be possible. it however rarely happens: for there seems to be in every nation a greater proportion of industry and frugality, which tend to enrich, than of idleness and prodigality, which occasion poverty; so that upon the whole there is a continual accumulation. reflect what spain, gaul, germany, and britain were in the time of the romans, inhabited by people little richer than our savages, and consider the wealth they at present possess, in numerous well-built cities, improved farms, rich moveables, magazines stocked with valuable manufactures, to say nothing of plate jewels, and coined money; and all this, notwithstanding their bad, wasteful, plundering governments, and their mad destructive wars; and yet luxury and extravagant living has never suffered much restraint in those countries. then consider the great proportion of industrious frugal farmers inhabiting the interior parts of these american states, and of whom the body of our nation consists, and judge whether it is possible, that the luxury of our sea-ports can be sufficient to ruin such a country.--if the importation of foreign luxuries could ruin a people, we should probably have been ruined long ago; for the british nation claimed a right, and practised it, of importing among us not only the superfluities of their own production, but those of every nation under heaven; we bought and consumed them, and yet we flourished and grew rich. at present our independent governments may do what we could not then do, discourage by heavy duties, or prevent by heavy prohibitions, such importations, and thereby grow richer; if, indeed, which may admit of dispute, the desire of adorning ourselves with fine clothes, possessing fine furniture, with elegant houses, &c. is not, by strongly inciting to labour and industry, the occasion of producing a greater value, than is consumed in the gratification of that desire. the agriculture and fisheries of the united states are the great sources of our increasing wealth. he that puts a seed into the earth is recompensed, perhaps, by receiving forty out of it; and he who draws a fish out of our water, draws up a piece of silver. let us (and there is no doubt but we shall) be attentive to these, and then the power of rivals, with all their restraining and prohibiting acts, cannot much hurt us. we are sons of the earth and seas, and, like antæus in the fable, if, in wrestling with a hercules, we now and then receive a fall, the touch of our parents will communicate to us fresh strength and vigour to renew the contest. _information to those who would remove to america._ many persons in europe having directly or by letters, expressed 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 him to have formed, through 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 disposed 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 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 painting, 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, pensylvania, maryland, and virginia, all furnished 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 physic. strangers indeed are by no means excluded from exercising those professions; and the quick increase of inhabitants every where 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 established in some of the states, that no office should be so profitable as to make it desirable. the thirty-sixth article of the constitution of pensylvania 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 may honestly subsist, there can be no necessity for, nor use in, establishing offices of profit; the usual effects of which are dependence and servility, unbecoming freemen, in the possessors and expectants; faction, contention, corruption, and disorder among the people. wherefore, whenever an office, through 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 to that of america, where people do not enquire 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 despised and disregarded. the husbandman is in honour 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 handiworks, than for the antiquity of his family. they are pleased with the observation of a negro, and frequently mention it, that boccarora (meaning the white man) 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 obliged to a genealogist, who could prove for him that his ancestors and relations for ten generations had been ploughmen, smiths, carpenters, turners, 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_[ ], and otherwise _good for nothing_, till by their death their estates, like the carcase 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 give 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 paved with half-peck loaves, the houses tiled 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 saved of the 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 mean 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 land, bought, on what was then the frontier of pennsylvania, for ten pounds per hundred acres, which, 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 of late, 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 disposed 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 land inclining many to leave trades for agriculture. some indeed have met with success, and are carried on to advantage; but they are generally such as require only a few hands, or wherein great part of the work is performed by machines. goods 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 goods 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 worked 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; those 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 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 imposed on either by the merchant or mechanic: if the merchant demands too much profit on imported shoes, they buy of the shoe-maker; 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 economists make a comfortable provision for age, and for their children. such may, therefore, remove with advantage to america. in the old 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 dragged up in ignorance of every gainful art, and obliged 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 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 complete new suit of clothes, but also, that he shall be taught to read, write, and cast accounts; 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 employed 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 learned 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. footnote: [ ] ... born merely to eat up the corn. watts. to the earl of buchan[ ]. _concerning new settlements in america._ _passy, march , ._ my lord, i received the letter your lordship did me the honour of writing to me the th past, and am much obliged by your kind congratulations on the return of peace, which i hope will be lasting. with regard to the terms on which lands may be acquired in america, and the manner of beginning new settlements on them, i cannot give better information than may be found in a book lately printed at london, under some such title as--_letters from a pensylvanian farmer_, by hector st. john. the only encouragement we hold out to strangers are, _a good climate, fertile soil, wholesome air and water, plenty of provisions and food, good pay for labour, kind neighbours, good laws, and a hearty welcome_. the rest depends on a man's own industry and virtue. lands are cheap, but they must be bought. all settlements are undertaken at private expence; the public contributes nothing but defence and justice. i have long observed of your people, that their sobriety, frugality, industry and honesty, seldom fail of success in america, and of procuring them a good establishment among us. i do not recollect the circumstance you are pleased to mention, of my having saved a citizen at st. andrew's by giving a turn to his disorder; and i am curious to know, what the disorder was, and what the advice i gave, that proved so salutary[ ]. with great regard i have the honour to be, my lord, your lordship's most obedient and most humble servant, b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] from the gentleman's magazine, for july, , to which it was communicated by the nobleman to whom it is addressed. _editor._ [ ] it was a fever in which the earl of buchan, then lord cadross, lay sick at st. andrew's; and the advice was, not to blister, according to the old practice and the opinion of the learned dr. simson, brother of the celebrated geometrician at glasgow. b. _a comparison of the conduct of the ancient jews, and of the antifederalists in the united states of america[ ]._ a zealous advocate for the proposed 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, formed there for our use, it would nevertheless meet with violent opposition." he was reproved for the supposed extravagance of the sentiment, and he did not justify it. probably it might not have immediately occurred to him, that the experiment had been tried, 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 delivered to that chosen servant, in presence of the whole nation, a constitution and code of laws for their observance, accompanied and sanctioned with promises of great rewards, and threats of severe punishments, as the consequence of their obedience or disobedience. this constitution, though the deity himself was to be at its head (and it is therefore called by political writers a theocracy) could not be carried into execution but by the means of his ministers; aaron and his sons were therefore commissioned to be, with moses, the first established ministry of the new government. one would have thought, that the appointment of men, who had distinguished 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 retained that nation in slavery, might have been an appointment acceptable to a grateful people; and that a constitution, framed for them by the deity himself, might on that account have been secure of an 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 proposed 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, though the natural and unavoidable effect of their change of situation, exclaimed against their leaders as the authors of their trouble: and were not only for returning into egypt, but for stoning their deliverers[ ]. those inclined to idolatry were displeased that their golden calf was destroyed. 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.[ ]--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 accused moses of having, by various artifices, fraudulently obtained the government, and deprived the people of their liberties, and of conspiring with aaron to perpetuate the tyranny in their family. thus, though 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 imposed upon us by the egyptians, and shall we 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 to 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 offered at the dedication of the altar[ ], and the offerings of gold by the common people[ ], as well as most of the poll tax[ ]; and aaron they accused of pocketing much of the gold of which he pretended to have made a molten calf. besides peculation, they charged moses with _ambition_; to gratify which passion, he had, they said, deceived 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_[ ]. that, to support the new dignity with splendour in his family, the partial poll tax, already levied and given to aaron[ ], was to be followed by a general one[ ], 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 devoured by that aristocracy. moses denied the charge of peculation, and his accusers were destitute of proofs to support it; though _facts_, if real, are in their nature capable of proof. "i have not," said he (with holy confidence in the presence of 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 believed, 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[ ]," heading and exciting the mob, worked them up to such a pitch of phrenzy, that they called out, stone 'em, stone 'em, and thereby secure our liberties; and let us choose 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 that, when they suffered it to be worked upon by 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 farther appears, from the same inestimable history, that when, after many ages, the constitution had become old and much abused, and an amendment of it was proposed, the populace, as they had accused 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 exclaimed against the messiah, that he aimed at becoming king of the jews, and cried, crucify him, crucify him. from all which we may gather, that popular opposition to a public measure is no proof of its impropriety, even though 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 formed 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 influenced, guided and governed by that omnipotent, omnipresent and beneficent ruler, in whom all inferior spirits live, and move, and have their being. footnotes: [ ] from the repository, vol. ii. p. . _editor._ [ ] numbers, chap. xiv. [ ] numbers, chap. xvi. ver. . "and they gathered themselves together against moses and against aaron, and said unto them, ye take too much upon you, seeing all the congregations are holy, every one of them,--wherefore then lift ye up yourselves above the congregation." [ ] numbers, chap. vii. [ ] exodus, chapter xxxv. ver. . [ ] numbers, chap. iii. and exodus, chap. xxx. [ ] numbers, chap. xvi. ver. . "is it a small thing that thou hast brought us up out of a land flowing with milk and honey, to kill us in this wilderness, except thou make thyself altogether a prince over us?" [ ] numbers, chap. iii. [ ] exodus, chap. xxx. [ ] numbers, chap. xvi. _final speech of dr. franklin in the late federal convention[ ]._ 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 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, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. most men, indeed, as well as most sects in religion, think themselves in possession of all truth, and that whenever others differ from them, it is so far error. steel, a protestant, in a dedication, tells the pope, that "the only difference between our two churches, in their opinions of the certainty of their doctrines is, the romish church is infallible, and the church of england 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, i don't know how it happens, sister, but i meet with nobody but myself that is always in the right. _il n'y a que moi qui a 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, if well administered; and 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 babylon, and that our states are on the point of separation, only to meet hereafter for the purpose of cutting each other's throats. thus i consent, sir, to this constitution, because i expect no better, and because i am not sure, that this 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, that for our own sakes, as part of the people, and for the sake of our posterity, 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. on the whole, sir, i cannot help expressing a wish, that every member of the convention, who may still have objections, 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. [the motion was then made for adding the last formula, viz. done in convention, by the unanimous consent, &c. which was agreed to, and added accordingly.] footnote: [ ] from the american museum, vol. ii. p. . _editor._ papers on moral subjects and _the economy of life_. papers on moral subjects and _the economy of life_. _the busy-body._--no. i[ ]. from the american weekly mercury, from tuesday, january , to tuesday, february , ,-- . mr. andrew bradford, i design this to acquaint you, that i, who have long been one of your courteous readers, have lately entertained some thought 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 observed 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 trade.--with more concern have i continually observed the growing vices and follies of my country folk: and though reformation is properly the concern of every man, that is, every one ought to mend one; yet it is too true in this case, that what is every body's business is no body's business, and the business is done accordingly. i therefore, upon mature deliberation, think fit to take no body's business wholly into my own hands; and, out of zeal for the public good, design to erect myself into a kind of censor morum; purposing, with your allowance, to make use of the weekly mercury as a vehicle, in which my remonstrances shall be conveyed 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, it is probable, i may displease a great number of your readers, who will not very well like to pay ten shillings 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 publicly 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 assured, 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 brightening of their understandings, without offending their modesty, i doubt not of having their favour and encouragement. it is 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 purpose to deliver lectures of morality of philosophy, and (because i am naturally inclined to be meddling with things that do not concern me) perhaps i may sometimes talk politics. and if i can by any means furnish out a weekly entertainment for the public, that will give a rational diversion, and at the same time be instructive to the readers, i shall think my leisure hours well employed: and if you publish this, i hereby invite all ingenious gentlemen and others (that approve of such an undertaking) to my assistance and correspondence. it is like, by this time, you have a curiosity to be acquainted with my name and character. as i do not aim at public praise, i design to remain concealed: and there are such numbers of our family and relations at this time in the country, that, though i have signed my name at full length, i am not under the least apprehension of being distinguished and discovered 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 public into their applause, by threatening, that unless you approve what they have already wrote, they intend never to write again; when perhaps it may not be a pin matter, whether they ever do or no. as i have not observ'd the critics 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. ii. from tuesday, february , to tuesday, february , ,-- . all fools have still an itching to deride, and fain would be upon the laughing side.--pope. monsieur rochefocault tells us somewhere in his memoirs, that the prince of condé delighted much in ridicule, and used frequently to shut himself up for half a day together, in his chamber, with a gentleman, that was his favourite, 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 any body, 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 outlaughed, 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 expose 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 rogues may get a quart of four-penny for being laugh'd 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, 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, chusing 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 pretty gentlemen, that write satyrs, 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 controul their overbearing itch of scribbling, let him be attacked in downright biting lyricks; for there is no satyr he dreads half so much, as an attempt towards a panegyrick. _the busy-body._--no. iii. from tuesday, february , to tuesday, february , ,-- . non vultus instantis tyranni mente quatit solida, nec auster, dux inquieti turbidus adriæ, nec fulminantis magna jovis manus.--hor. it is said, that the persians, in their ancient constitution, had public 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 his affairs, and in every circumstance of 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 honoured by it. cato is a man whom fortune has placed 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 knocked 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 rapped in such a peculiar manner, as seemed of itself to express there was one who deserved as well as desired admission. he appeared in the plainest country garb; his great coat was coarse, and looked old and thread bare; his linen was homespun; his beard, perhaps, of seven days growth; his shoes thick and heavy; and every part of his dress corresponding. why was this man received 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 appeared 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 emboldened with resolution, equally free from 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 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 ashamed to do, because he knows he always means well; and therefore is never obliged to blush, and feel the confusion of finding himself detected in the meanness of a falshood. 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 public spiritedness, and, in fine, his consummate virtue, make him justly deserve to be esteemed 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 choose, 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 valued and esteemed by the rest of his species; but i am concerned and grieved 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 employed. 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 compared with virtue? it is 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 sour philosopher! thou cunning statesman! thou art crafty, but far from being wise. when wilt thou be esteemed, regarded, and beloved like cato? when wilt thou, among thy creatures, meet with that unfeigned respect and warm good-will that all men have for him? wilt thou never understand, that the cringing, mean, submissive deportment of thy dependants, is (like the worship paid by indians to the devil) rather through fear of the harm thou mayst do them, than out of gratitude for the favours they have received 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 covered 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 inquire who is the author of this paper, on pain of his displeasure (his own near and dear relations only excepted). it is to be observed, 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 applied. likewise, that the author is no party-man, but a general meddler. n. b. cretico lives in a neighbouring province. _the busy-body._--no. iv. from tuesday, february , to tuesday, february , ,-- . nequid 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 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 public view in this manner, (and not basely borrowed 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 twelve-month. for my own part, i have already professed, 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 filled with nothing but wholesome precepts and advice, i must therefore sometimes humour 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 satirize 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 cheerfully tolerate me in the liberty i design to take for the end abovementioned. as yet i have but few correspondents, though they begin now to increase. the following letter, left for me at the printer's, is one of the first i have received, which i regard the more for that it comes from one of the fair sex, and because i have myself oftentimes suffered under the grievance therein complained 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 applied 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 livelihood. 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 exceedingly often, and stays so very long every visit, that i am tired 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 exposed even to the nearest friend. now i cannot do the least thing in the world, but she must know 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 of her 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, "oh! thou little wicked mischievous rogue!" but however, it has done no great damage; it is 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 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 used to being here that they will be content no where else. if she would have been so kind as to have moderated her visits to ten times a day, and staid 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 spoiled 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: though 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, though 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 opportunity to----o dear, here she comes again; i must conclude "your's, &c. "patience." indeed, it is 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 though more of your company should be really desired; yet in this case, too much reservedness is a fault more easily excused than the contrary. men are subject to various inconveniencies merely 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 impertinencies 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 show themselves obliging. "when you visit a person of quality (says he) and have talked over your business, or the compliments, or whatever concern brought you thither, he makes a sign to have things served in for the entertainment, which is generally a little sweetmeat, a dish of sherbet, and another of coffee; all which are immediately brought in by the servants, and tendered 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 performed in this manner. they have for the purpose a small silver chaffing dish, covered 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 smoke immediately ascends with a grateful odour through the holes of the cover. this smoke is held under every one's chin, and offered 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 an 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 detained from your affairs by tedious and unseasonable visits; and from being constrained 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 public. _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 signed would-be-something is come to hand. _the busy-body._--no. v. from tuesday, february , to tuesday, march , ,-- . vos, o patricius sanguis, quos vivere fas est, occipiti cæco, posticæ occurrite sannæ. persius. this paper being design'd for a terror to evil doers, as well as a praise to them that do well, i am lifted up with secret joy to find, that my undertaking is approved, and encourag'd by the just and good, and that few are against me but those who have reason to fear me. there are little follies in the behaviour of most men, which their best friends are too tender to acquaint them with; there are little vices and small crimes which the law has no regard to or remedy for: there are likewise great pieces of villany sometimes so craftily accomplished, and so circumspectly guarded, that the law can take no hold of the actors. all these things, and all things of this nature, come within my province as censor, and i am determined not to be negligent of the trust i have reposed in myself, but resolve to execute my office diligently and faithfully. and that all the world may judge with how much humanity, as well as justice, i shall behave in this office; and that even my enemies may be convinced i take no delight to rake into the dunghill lives of vicious men; and to the end that certain persons may be a little eased of their fears, and relieved from the terrible palpitations they have lately felt and suffered, and do still suffer; i hereby graciously pass an act of general oblivion, for all offences, crimes, and misdemeanors of what kind soever, committed from the beginning of the year , until the day of the date of my first paper, and promise only to concern myself with such as have been since and shall hereafter be committed. i shall take no notice who has (heretofore) raised a fortune by fraud and oppression, nor who by deceit and hypocrisy; what woman has been false to her good husband's bed, nor what man has, by barbarous usage or neglect, broke the heart of a faithful wife, and wasted his health and substance in debauchery; what base wretch has betrayed his friend, and sold his honesty for gold, nor what baser wretch first corrupted him, and then bought the bargain: all this, and much more of the same kind, i shall forget, and pass over in silence; but then it is to be observed, that i expect and require a sudden and general amendment. these threatenings of mine, i hope will have a good effect, and, if regarded, may prevent abundance of folly and wickedness in others, and, at the same time, save me abundance of trouble: and that people may not flatter themselves with the hopes of concealing their loose misdemeanors from my knowledge, and in that view persist in evil doing, i must acquaint them, that i have lately entered into an intimacy with the extraordinary person, who some time since wrote me the following letter; and who, having a wonderful faculty, that enables him to discover the most secret iniquity, is capable of giving me great assistance in my designed work of reformation. "mr. busy-body, "i rejoice, sir, at the opportunity you have given me to be serviceable to you, and, by your means, to this province. you must know, that such have been the circumstances of my life, and such were the marvellous concurrences of my birth, that i have not only a faculty of discovering the actions of persons, that are absent or asleep, but even of the devil himself, in many of his secret workings, in the various shapes, habits, and names of men and women: and having travelled and conversed much, and met but with a very few of the same perceptions and qualifications, i can recommend myself to you as the most useful man you can correspond with. my father's father's father (for we had no grandfathers in our family) was the same john bunyan that writ that memorable book, the pilgrim's progress, who had, in some degree, a natural faculty of second sight. this faculty (how derived to him our family memoirs are not very clear) was enjoyed by all his descendants, but not by equal talents. it was very dim in several of my first cousins, and probably had been nearly extinct in our particular branch, had not my father been a traveller. he lived, in his youthful days, in new england. there he married, and there was born my elder brother, who had so much of this faculty, as to discover witches in some of their occult performances. my parents transporting themselves to great britain, my second brother's birth was in that kingdom. he shared but a small portion of this virtue, being only able to discern transactions about the time of, and for the most part after, their happening. my good father, who delighted in the pilgrim's progress, and mountainous places, took shipping, with his wife, for scotland, and inhabited in the highlands, where myself was born; and whether the soil, climate, or astral influences, of which are preserved divers prognosticks, restored our ancestor's natural faculty of second sight, in a greater lustre to me, than it had shined in through several generations, i will not here discuss. but so it is, that i am possessed largely of it, and design, if you encourage the proposal, to take this opportunity of doing good with it, which i question not will be accepted of in a grateful way by many of your honest readers, though the discovery of my extraction bodes me no deference from your great scholars and modern philosophers. this my father was long ago aware of, and lest the name alone should hurt the fortunes of his children, he, in his shiftings from one country to another, wisely changed it. "sir, i have only this further to say, how i may be useful to you, and as a reason for my not making myself more known in the world: by virtue of this great gift of nature, second-sightedness, i do continually see numbers of men, women, and children, of all ranks, and what they are doing, while i am sitting in my closet; which is too great a burthen for the mind, and makes me also conceit, even against reason, that all this host of people can see and observe me, which strongly inclines me to solitude, and an obscure living; and, on the other hand, it will be an ease to me to disburthen my thoughts and observations in the way proposed to you, by sir, your friend and humble servant." i conceal this correspondent's name, in my care for his life and safety, and cannot but approve his prudence, in chusing to live obscurely. i remember the fate of my poor monkey: he had an illnatured trick of grinning and chattering at every thing he saw in peticoats: my ignorant country neighbours got a notion, that pug snarled by instinct at every female who had lost her virginity. this was no sooner generally believed, than he was condemned to death: by whom i could never learn, but he was assassinated in the night, barbarously stabbed and mangled in a thousand places, and left hanging dead on one of my gate posts, where i found him the next morning. the censor observing, that the itch of scribbling begins to spread exceedingly, and being carefully tender of the reputation of his country, in point of wit and good sense, has determined to take all manner of writings in verse or prose, that pretend to either, under his immediate cognizance; and accordingly, hereby prohibits the publishing any such for the future, till they have first passed his examination, and received his imprimatur: for which he demands as a fee only sixpence per sheet. n. b. he nevertheless permits to be published, all satirical remarks on the busy-body, the above prohibition notwithstanding, and without examination, or requiring the said fees; which indulgence the small wits, in and about this city, are advised gratefully to accept and acknowledge. the gentleman, who calls himself sirronio, is directed, on receipt of this, to burn his great book of crudities. p. s. in compassion to that young man, on account of the great pains he has taken, in consideration of the character i have just received of him, that he is really good natured, and on condition he shows it to no foreigner, or stranger of sense, i have thought fit to reprieve his said great book of crudities from the flames, till further order. noli me tangere i had resolved, when i first commenced this design, on no account to enter into a public dispute with any man; for i judged it would be equally unpleasant to me and my readers, to see this paper filled with contentious wrangling, answers, replies, &c. which is a way of writing that is endless, and, at the same time, seldom contains any thing that is either edifying or entertaining. yet, when such a considerable man as mr. ---- finds himself concerned so warmly to accuse and condemn me, as he has done in keimer's last instructor, i cannot forbear endeavouring to say something in my own defence, from one of the worst of characters that could be given me by a man of worth. but as i have many things of more consequence to offer the public, i declare, that i will never, after this time, take notice of any accusations, not better supported with truth and reason; much less may every little scribbler, that shall attack me, expect an answer from the busy-body. the sum of the charge delivered against me, either directly or indirectly, in the said paper, is this: not to mention the first weighty sentence concerning vanity and ill-nature, and the shrewd intimation, that i am without charity, and therefore can have no pretence to religion, i am represented as guilty of defamation and scandal, the odiousness of which is apparent to every good man, and the practice of it opposite to christianity, morality, and common justice, and, in some cases, so far below all these, as to be inhuman; as a blaster of reputations; as attempting, by a pretence, to screen myself from the imputation of malice and prejudice; as using a weapon, which the wiser and better part of mankind hold in abhorrence; and as giving treatment which the wiser and better part of mankind dislike on the same principles, and for the same reason, as they do assassination, &c.; and all this is inferred and concluded from a character i have wrote in my number iii. in order to examine the justice and truth of this heavy charge, let us recur to that character. and here we may be surprized to find what a trifle has raised this mighty clamour and complaint, this grievous accusation!--the worst thing said of the person, in what is called my gross description (be he who he will to whom my accuser has applied the character of cretico) is, that he is a sour philosopher, crafty, but not wise. few humane characters can be drawn that will not fit some body, in so large a country as this; but one would think, supposing i meant cretico a real person, i had sufficiently manifested my impartiality, when i said, in that very paragraph, that cretico is not without virtue; that there are many good things in him, and many good actions reported of him; which must be allowed in all reason, very much to overbalance in his favour those worst words, sour tempered, and cunning. nay, my very enemy and accuser must have been sensible of this, when he freely acknowledges, that he has been seriously considering, and cannot yet determine, which he would choose to be, the cato or cretico of that paper; since my cato is one of the best of characters. thus much in my own vindication. as to the only reasons there given, why i ought not to continue drawing characters, viz. why should any man's picture be published which he never sat for; or his good name taken from him any more than his money or possessions, at the arbitrary will of another, &c. i have but this to answer: the money or possessions, i presume, are nothing to the purpose; since no man can claim a right either to those or a good name, if he has acted so as to forfeit them. and are not the public the only judges what share of reputation they think proper to allow any man? supposing i was capable, and had an inclination, to draw all the good and bad characters in america, why should a good man be offended with me for drawing good characters? and if i draw ill ones, can they fit any but those that deserve them? and ought any but such to be concerned that they have their deserts? i have as great an aversion and abhorrence for defamation and scandal as any man, and would, with the utmost care, avoid being guilty of such base things: besides i am very sensible and certain, that if i should make use of this paper to defame any person, my reputation would be sooner hurt by it than his; and the busy-body would quickly become detestable; because, in such a case, as is justly observed, the pleasure arising from a tale of wit and novelty soon dies away in generous and honest minds, and is followed with a secret grief, to see their neighbours calumniated. but if i myself was actually the worst man in the province, and any one should draw my true character, would it not be ridiculous in me to say, he had defamed and scandalized me, unless he had added in a matter of truth? if any thing is meant by asking, why any man's picture should be published which he never sat for? it must be, that we should give no character without the owner's consent. if i discern the wolf disguised in harmless wool, and contriving the destruction of my neighbour's sheep, must i have his permission, before i am allowed to discover and prevent him? if i know a man to be a designing knave, must i ask his consent, to bid my friends beware of him? if so, then, by the same rule, supposing the busy-body had really merited all his enemy had charged him with, his consent likewise ought to have been obtained, before so terrible an accusation was published against him. i shall conclude with observing, that in the last paragraph save one of the piece now examined, much ill nature and some good sense are co-inhabitants (as he expresses it). the ill nature appears, in his endeavouring to discover satire, where i intended no such thing, but quite the reverse: the good sense is this, that drawing too good a character of any one is a refined manner of satire, that may be as injurious to him as the contrary, by bringing on an examination that undresses the person, and in the haste of doing it, he may happen to be stript of what he really owns and deserves. as i am censor, i might punish the first, but i forgive it. yet i will not leave the latter unrewarded; but assure my adversary, that in consideration of the merit of those four lines, i am resolved to forbear injuring him on any account in that refined manner. i thank my neighbour p---- w----l for his kind letter. the lions complained of shall be muzzled. _the busy-body._--no. viii. from tuesday, march , to thursday, march , . quid non mortalia pectora cogis, auri sacra fames?----virgil. one of the greatest pleasures an author can have, is, certainly, the hearing his works applauded. the hiding from the world our names, while we publish our thoughts, is so absolutely necessary to this self-gratification, that i hope my well-wishers will congratulate me on my escape from the many diligent, but fruitless enquiries, that have of late been made after me. every man will own, that an author, as such, ought to be hid by the merit of his productions only; but pride, party, and prejudice, at this time, run so very high, that experience shows we form our notions of a piece by the character of the author. nay, there are some very humble politicians in and about this city, who will ask, on which side the writer is, before they presume to give their opinion of the thing wrote. this ungenerous way of proceeding i was well aware of before i published my first speculation; and therefore concealed my name. and i appeal to the more generous part of the world, if i have, since i appeared in the character of the busy-body, given an instance of my siding with any party more than another, in the unhappy divisions of my country; and i have, above all, this satisfaction in myself, that neither affection, aversion, or interest, have biassed me to use any partiality towards any man, or set of men; but whatsoever i find nonsensical, ridiculous, or immorally dishonest, i have, and shall continue openly to attack, with the freedom of an honest man, and a lover of my country. i profess i can hardly contain myself, or preserve the gravity and dignity that should attend the censorial office, when i hear the odd and unaccountable expositions, that are put upon some of my works, through the malicious ignorance of some, and the vain pride of more than ordinary penetration in others; one instance of which many of my readers are acquainted with. a certain gentleman has taken a great deal of pains to write a key to the letter in my number iv, wherein he has ingeniously converted a gentle satyr upon tedious and impertinent visitants, into a libel on some of the government. this i mention only as a specimen of the taste of the gentleman; i am, forsooth, bound to please in my speculations, not that i suppose my impartiality will ever be called in question on that account. injustices of this nature i could complain of in many instances; but i am at present diverted by the reception of a letter, which, though it regards me only in my private capacity, as an adept, yet i venture to publish it for the entertainment of my readers. "_to censor morum, esq. busy-body general of the province of pennsylvania, and the counties of newcastle, kent, and sussex upon delaware._ "honourable sir, "i judge by your lucubrations, that you are not only a lover of truth and equity, but a man of parts and learning, and a master of science; as such i honour you. know then, most profound sir, that i have, from my youth up, been a very indefatigable student in, and admirer of, that divine science, astrology. i have read over scot, albertus magnus, and cornelius agrippa, above three hundred times; and was in hopes, by my knowledge and industry, to gain enough to have recompensed me for my money expended, and time lost in the pursuit of this learning. you cannot be ignorant, sir, (for your intimate second-sighted correspondent knows all things) that there are large sums of money hidden under ground in divers places about this town, and in many parts of the country: but alas, sir, notwithstanding i have used all the means laid down in the immortal authors before mentioned, and when they failed the ingenious mr. p--d--l, with his mercurial wand and magnet, i have still failed in my purpose. this, therefore, i send, to propose and desire an acquaintance with you, and i do not doubt, notwithstanding my repeated ill fortune, but we may be exceedingly serviceable to each other in our discoveries; and that if we use our united endeavours, the time will come, when the busy-body, his second-sighted correspondent, and your very humble servant, will be three of the richest men in the province: and then, sir, what may we not do? a word to the wise is sufficient. "i conclude with all demonstrable respect, "yours and urania's votary, "titan pleiades." in the evening after i had received this letter, i made a visit to my second-sighted friend, and communicated to him the proposal. when he had read it, he assured me, that to his certain knowledge, there is not at this time so much as one ounce of silver or gold hid under ground in any part of this province; for that the late and present scarcity of money had obliged those, who were living, and knew where they had formerly hid any, to take it up, and use it in their own necessary affairs: and as to all the rest, which was buried by pirates and others in old times, who were never like to come for it, he himself had long since dug it all up, and applied it to charitable uses; and this he desired me to publish for the general good. for, as he acquainted me, there are among us great numbers of honest artificers and labouring people, who, fed with a vain hope of growing suddenly rich, neglect their business, almost to the ruining of themselves and families, and voluntarily endure abundance of fatigue in a fruitless search after imaginary hidden treasure. they wander through the woods and bushes by day, to discover the marks and signs; at midnight they repair to the hopeful spots with spades and pickaxes; full of expectation, they labour violently, trembling at the same time in every joint, through fear of certain malicious demons, who are said to haunt and guard such places. at length a mighty hole is dug, and perhaps several cartloads of earth thrown out; but, alas, no cag or iron pot is found! no seaman's chest crammed with spanish pistoles, or weighty pieces of eight! then they conclude, that through some mistake in the procedure, some rash word spoke, or some rule of art neglected, the guardian spirit had power to sink it deeper into the earth, and convey it out of their reach. yet, when a man is once thus infatuated, he is so far from being discouraged by ill success, that he is rather animated to double his industry, and will try again and again in a hundred different places, in hopes at last of meeting with some lucky hit, that shall at once sufficiently reward him for all his expense of time and labour. this odd humour of digging for money through a belief, that much has been hid by pirates formerly frequenting the river, has for several years been mighty prevalent among us; insomuch that you can hardly walk half a mile out of the town on any side, without observing several pits dug with that design, and perhaps some lately opened. men, otherwise of very good sense, have been drawn into this practice, through an overweening desire of sudden wealth, and an easy credulity of what they so earnestly wished might be true. while the rational and almost certain methods of acquiring riches by industry and frugality are neglected or forgotten. there seems to be some peculiar charm in the conceit of finding money; and if the sands of schuylkil were so much mixed with small grains of gold, that a man might in a day's time, with care and application, get together to the value of half a crown, i make no question but we should find several people employed there, that can with ease earn five shillings a day at their proper trades. many are the idle stories told of the private success of some people, by which others are encouraged to proceed; and the astrologers, with whom the country swarms at this time, are either in the belief of these things themselves, or find their advantage in persuading others to believe them; for they are often consulted about the critical times for digging, the methods of laying the spirit, and the like whimsies, which renders them very necessary to, and very much caressed by, the poor deluded money-hunters. there is certainly something very bewitching in the pursuit after mines of gold and silver and other valuable metals, and many have been ruined by it. a sea-captain of my acquaintance used to blame the english for envying spain their mines of silver, and too much despising or overlooking the advantages of their own industry and manufactures. for my part, says he, i esteem the banks of newfoundland to be a more valuable possession than the mountains of potosi; and when i have been there on the fishing account, have looked upon every cod pulled up into the vessel as a certain quantity of silver ore, which required only carrying to the next spanish port to be coined into pieces of eight; not to mention the national profit of fitting out and employing such a number of ships and seamen. let honest peter buckram, who has long, without success, been a searcher after hidden money, reflect on this, and be reclaimed from that unaccountable folly. let him consider, that every stitch he takes when he is on his shop board is picking up part of a grain of gold, that will in a few days time amount to a pistole; and let faber think the same of every nail he drives, or every stroke with his plane. such thoughts may make them industrious, and of consequence in time they may be wealthy. but how absurd is it to neglect a certain profit for such a ridiculous whimsey: to spend whole days at the george, in company with an idle pretender to astrology, contriving schemes to discover what was never hidden, and forgetful how carelessly business is managed at home in their absence: to leave their wives and a warm bed at midnight (no matter if it rain, hail, snow, or blow a hurricane, provided that be the critical hour) and fatigue themselves with the violent exercise of digging for what they shall never find, and perhaps getting a cold that may cost their lives, or at least disordering themselves so as to be fit for no business beside for some days after. surely this is nothing less than the most egregious folly and madness. i shall conclude with the words of my discreet friend, agricola, of chester county, when he gave his son a good plantation:--"my son," says he, "i give thee now a valuable parcel of land; i assure thee i have found a considerable quantity of gold by digging there; thee mayst do the same; but thee must carefully observe this, never to dig more than plow-deep." footnote: [ ] these are the "humorous pieces" mentioned by dr. franklin in his memoirs, page . we are indebted for them to an american correspondent, who obtained a copy with great difficulty, some depredating hand having torn from the file of the mercury, in the philadelphia library, several of the numbers containing the pieces in question. _editor._ _the way to wealth, as clearly shown in the preface of an old pensylvania almanack, intitled, poor richard improved[ ]._ courteous reader, i have heard, that nothing gives an author so great pleasure, as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. judge, then, how much i must have been gratified by an incident i am going to relate to you. i stopped my horse lately, where a great number of people were collected, at an auction of merchants goods. the hour of the sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the times; and one of the company called to a plain clean old man, with white locks, 'pray, father abraham, what think you of the times? will not these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? how shall we ever be able to pay them? what would you advise us to?'--father abraham stood up, and replied, 'if you would have my advice, i will give it you in short, "for a word to the wise is enough," as poor richard says.' they joined in desiring him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, he proceeded as follows: 'friends, says he, the taxes are, indeed, very heavy, and, if those laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous to some of us. we are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. however, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us; "god helps them that help themselves," as poor richard says. 'i. it would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service: but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. "sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour wears, while the used key is always bright," as poor richard says. "but dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of," as poor richard says. how much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting, that "the sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave," as poor richard says. '"if time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be," as poor richard says, "the greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough always proves little enough:" let us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. "sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; and he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. drive thy business, let not that drive thee; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," as poor richard says. 'so what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? we may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. "industry need not wish, and he that lives upon 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. "he, that hath a trade, hath an estate; and he, that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as poor richard says; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling 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, "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 increaseth them." what though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a legacy, "diligence is the mother of good luck, and god gives all things to industry. then plow deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep." work while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered to-morrow. "one to-day is worth two to-morrows," as poor richard says; and farther, "never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day." if you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? are you then your own master? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king. handle your tools without mittens; remember, that "the cat in gloves catches no mice," as poor richard says. it is true, there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects, for "constant dropping wears away stones; and by diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable; and little strokes fell great oaks." 'methinks i hear some of you say, "must a man afford himself no leisure?" i will tell thee, my friend, what poor richard says; "employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour." leisure is time for doing something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; for "a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. many, without labour, would live by their wits only, but they break for want of stock;" whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. "fly pleasures, and they will follow you. the diligent spinner has a large shift; and now i have a sheep and a cow, every body bids me good-morrow." 'ii. but with our industry we must likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much to others; for, as poor richard says, "i never saw an oft-removed tree, nor yet an oft-removed family, that throve so well as those that settled be." and again, "three removes 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 other's care is the ruin of many; for, "in the affairs of this world, men are saved, not by faith, but by the want of it;" but a man's own care is profitable; for, "if you would have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. a little neglect may breed great mischief; for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and 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 a little care about a horse-shoe nail. 'iii. so much for industry, my friends, and attention to ones 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 grind-stone, and die not worth a groat at last. a fat kitchen makes a lean will;" and "many estates are spent in the getting, since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, and men for punch forsook hewing and splitting." "if you would be wealthy, think of saving, as well as of getting. the indies have not made spain rich, because her outgoes are greater than her incomes." 'away then, with your expensive follies, and you will not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families; for "women and wine, game and deceit, make the wealth small, and the want 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, "many a little makes a mickle." beware of little expences; "a small leak will sink a great ship," as poor richard says; and again, "who dainties love, shall beggars prove;" and moreover, "fools make feasts, and wise men eat them." 'here you are all got together to this sale of fineries and nick-nacks. 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 penny-worth pause a while." he means, that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or the bargain, by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. for in another place he says, "many have been ruined by buying good pennyworths." again, "it is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance;" and yet this folly is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the almanack. many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly, and half starved their families; "silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen fire," as poor richard says. these are not the necessaries of life, they can scarcely be called the conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to have them? by these and other extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it appears plainly, that "a ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees," as poor richard says. perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they think "it is day, and will never be night;" that a little to be spent out of so much is not worth minding; but "always taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in soon comes to the bottom," as poor richard says; and then, "when the well is dry, they know the worth of water." but this they might have known before, if they had taken his advice: "if you would know the value of money go and try to borrow some; for he that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing," as poor richard says; and indeed so does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in again. poor dick farther advises, and says, "fond pride of dress is sure a very curse, ere fancy you consult, consult your purse." and again, "pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great deal more saucy." when you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but poor dick says, "it is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it:" and it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell, in order to equal the ox. "vessels large may venture more, but little boats should keep near shore." it is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as poor richard says, "pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt; pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy." and, after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much is suffered? it cannot promote health, nor ease pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy, it hastens misfortune. 'but what madness must it be to _run in debt_ for these superfluities! we are offered, by the terms of this sale, six months credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. but ah! think what you do when you run in debt; you give to another power over your liberty. if you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your creditor, you will be in fear when you speak to him, you will make poor pitiful sneaking excuses, and, by degrees, come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, downright lying; for, "the second vice is lying, the _first_ is running in debt," as poor richard says; and again, to the same purpose, "lying rides upon debt's back;" whereas a free-born englishman ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. but poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. "it is hard for an empty bag to stand upright." what would you think of that prince, or of that government, who should issue an edict, forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? would you not say, that you were free, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical? and yet you are about to put 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 gaol for life, or by selling 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, as poor richard says, "creditors have better memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, great observers of set-days and times." the day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short: time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. "those have a short lent, who owe money to be paid at easter." at present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury; but "for age and want save while you may, no morning sun lasts a whole day." gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you live, expence is constant and certain; and, "it is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel," as poor richard says: so "rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt." "get what you can, and what you get hold, 'tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold." and when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes. 'iv. this doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom: but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry, and frugality, and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted, without the blessing of heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. remember job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. 'and now, to conclude, "experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other," as poor richard says, and scarce in that; for, it is true, "we may give advice, but we cannot give conduct:" however, remember this, "they that will not be counselled cannot be helped;" and farther, that "if you will not hear reason she will surely rap your knuckles," as poor richard says.' thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. the people heard it and approved the doctrine; and immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon, for the auction opened and they began to buy extravagantly.--i found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacks, and digested all i had dropt on those topics during the course of twenty-five years. the frequent mention he made of me must have tired any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though i was conscious, that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own, which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that i had made of the sense of all ages and nations. however, i resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, though i had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat, i went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer. reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. i am, as ever, thine to serve thee, richard saunders. footnote: [ ] dr. franklin, as i have been made to understand, for many years published the pensylvania almanack, called _poor richard [saunders]_, and furnished it with various sentences and proverbs, which had principal relation to the topics of "industry, attention to one's own business, and frugality." the whole or chief of these sentences and proverbs he at last collected and digested in the above general preface, which his countrymen read with much avidity and profit. b. v. _advice to a young tradesman[ ]._ written anno . 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 expence; 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 a 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 expence unperceived) a man of credit may, on his own security, have the constant possession and use of an hundred pounds. so much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious man, produces great advantage. remember this saying, "the good paymaster is lord of another man's purse." he that is known to pay punctually and exactly to the time he promises may at any time, and on any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. this is sometimes of great use. after industry and frugality, nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the world than punctuality and justice in all his dealings: therefore, never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's purse for ever. the most trifling actions that affect a man's credit are to be regarded. the sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer: but if he sees you at a billiard-table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money the next day; demands it before he can receive it in a lump. it shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe; it makes you appear a careful as well as an honest man, and that still increases your credit. beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and of living accordingly. it is a mistake that many people who have credit fall into. to prevent this, keep an exact account for some time, both of your expences 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 expences 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 expences excepted), will certainly become _rich_--if that being who governs the world, to whom all should look for a blessing on their honest endeavours, doth not, in his wise providence, otherwise determine. an old tradesman. footnote: [ ] this paper and the hints that follow it are from the repository, vol. ii. p. and , where, as they are placed under the head of original articles, we presume they first appeared. _editor._ _necessary hints to those that would be rich._ written anno . the use of money is all the advantage there is in having money. for six pounds a year you may have the use of one hundred pounds, provided you are a man of known prudence and honesty. he, that spends a groat a day idly, spends idly above six pounds a year, which is the price for the use of one hundred pounds. he, that wastes idly a groat's worth of his time per day, one day with another, wastes the privilege of using one hundred pounds each day. he, that idly loses five shillings worth of time, loses five shillings, and might as prudently throw five shillings into the sea. he, that loses five shillings, not only loses that sum, but all the advantage that might be made by turning it in dealing, which, by the time that a young man becomes old, will amount to a considerable sum of money. again: he, that sells upon credit, asks a price for what he sells equivalent to the principal and interest of his money for the time he is to be kept out of it; therefore, he, that buys upon credit, pays interest for what he buys, and he, that pays ready money, might let that money out to use: so that he, that possesses any thing he has bought, pays interest for the use of it. yet, in buying goods, it is best to pay ready money, because he, that sells upon credit, expects to lose five per cent by bad debts; therefore he charges, on all he sells upon credit, an advance, that shall make up that deficiency. those, who pay for what they buy upon credit, pay their share of this advance. he, that pays ready money, escapes, or may escape, that charge. a penny sav'd is two-pence clear, a pin a day's a groat a year. _the way to make money plenty in every man's pocket[ ]._ at this time, when the general complaint is, that "money is scarce," it will be an act of kindness to inform the moneyless how they may reinforce their pockets. i will acquaint them with the true secret of money-catching, the certain way to fill empty purses, and how to keep them always full. two simple rules, well observed, will do the business. first, let honesty and industry be thy constant companions; and secondly, spend one penny less than thy clear gains. then shall thy hide-bound pocket soon begin to thrive, and will never again cry with the empty belly-ach: neither will creditors insult thee, nor want oppress, nor hunger bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. the whole hemisphere will shine brighter, and pleasure spring up in every corner of thy heart. now, therefore, embrace these rules and be happy. banish the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, and live independent. then shalt thou be a man, and not hide thy face at the approach of the rich, nor suffer the pain of feeling little when the sons of fortune walk at thy right hand: for independency, whether with little or much, is good fortune, and placeth thee on even ground with the proudest of the golden fleece. oh, then, be wise, and let industry walk with thee in the morning, and attend thee until thou reachest the evening hour for rest. let honesty be as the breath of thy soul, and never forget to have a penny when all thy expences are enumerated and paid: then shalt thou reach the point of happiness, and independence shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and crown; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor stoop to the silken wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse because the hand which offers it wears a ring set with diamonds. footnote: [ ] from the american museum, vol. ii. p. . _editor._ _new mode of lending money[ ]._ _paris, april , ._ i send you herewith a bill for ten louis d'ors. i do not pretend to give such a sum. i only _lend_ it to you. when you shall return to your country, you cannot fail getting into some business, that will in time enable you to pay all your debts. in that case, when you meet with another honest man in similar distress, you must _pay me_ by lending this sum to him, enjoining him, to _discharge the debt_ by a like operation, when he shall be able, and shall meet with such another opportunity. i hope it may thus go through many hands before it meet with a _knave_ to stop its progress. this is a trick of mine for doing a good deal with a little money. i am not rich enough to afford _much_ in good works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the most of a _little_. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] from the gentleman's magazine, for september, ; communicated by the gentleman who received it. _editor._ _an economical project[ ]._ to the authors of the journal. 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 splendor; but a general enquiry 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 expence of lighting our apartments, when every other article of family expence was so much augmented. i was pleased to see this general concern for economy, for i love economy exceedingly. 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 horison, 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 almanack, 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 almanack, 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 so it 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 darkness: and he used many ingenious arguments to shew me how i might, by that means, have been deceived. i own, 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 , 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 the 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 twentieth of march and the twentieth of september, there are nights hours of each night in which we burn candles ------- multiplication gives for the total number of hours , these , hours multiplied by , , the number of inhabitants give , , 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 , , 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 , , 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 day-light 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 run 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. 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 coute_. oblige a man to rise at four in the morning, and it is more than probable he shall go willingly to bed at eight in the evening; and, having had eight hours sleep, he will rise more willingly at four 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, almanacks that predicted it: but it does not follow from thence, that they knew _he gave light as soon as he rose_. this is what i claim as my discovery. if the antients 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 any where 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 smoaky, unwholesome and enormously expensive light of candles, if they had really known, that they might have had as much pure light of the sun for nothing. i am, &c. an abonne. footnote: [ ] "a translation of this letter appeared in one of the daily papers of paris about the year . the following is the original piece, with some additions and corrections made in it by the author." note by the editor of the repository, from which we extract the letter. _editor._ to john alleyne, esq.[ ] _on early marriages._ _craven street, aug. , _. dear jack, you desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the subject of an early marriage, by way of answer to the numberless objections, that have been made by numberless persons, to your own. you may remember, when you consulted me on the occasion, that i thought youth on both sides to be no objection. indeed, from the marriages that have fallen under my observation, i am rather inclined to think, that early ones stand the best chance of happiness. the temper and habits of the young are not yet become so stiff and uncomplying, as when more advanced in life; they form more easily to each other, and hence many occasions of disgust are removed. and if youth has less of that prudence, which is necessary to manage a family, yet the parents and elder friends of young married persons are generally at hand to afford their advice, which amply supplies that defect; and by early marriage, youth is sooner formed to regular and useful life; and possibly some of those accidents or connections, that might have injured the constitution, or reputation, or both, are thereby happily prevented. particular circumstances of particular persons may possibly sometimes make it prudent to delay entering into that state; but in general, when nature has rendered our bodies fit for it, the presumption is in nature's favour, that she has not judged amiss in making us desire it. late marriages are often attended, too, with this further inconvenience, that there is not the same chance that the parents shall live to see their offspring educated. "late children," says the spanish proverb, "are early orphans." a melancholy reflection to those whose case it may be! with us in america, marriages are generally in the morning of life; our children are therefore educated and settled in the world by noon; and thus, our business being done, we have an afternoon and evening of cheerful leisure to ourselves, such as our friend at present enjoys. by these early marriages we are blessed with more children; and from the mode among us, founded by nature, of every mother suckling and nursing her own child, more of them are raised. thence the swift progress of population among us, unparalleled in europe. in fine, i am glad you are married, and congratulate you most cordially upon it. you are now in the way of becoming a useful citizen; and you have escaped the unnatural state of celibacy for life--the fate of many here, who never intended it, but who, having too long postponed the change of their condition, find, at length, that it is too late to think of it, and so live all their lives in a situation, that greatly lessens a man's value. an odd volume of a set of books bears not the value of its proportion to the set: what think you of the odd half of a pair of scissars? it cannot well cut any thing; it may possibly serve to scrape a trencher. pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable to your bride. i am old and heavy, or i should ere this have presented them in person. i shall make but small use of the old man's privilege, that of giving advice to younger friends. treat your wife always with respect; it will procure respect to you, not only from her, but from all that observe it. never use a slighting expression to her, even in jest; for slights in jest, after frequent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earnest. be studious in your profession, and you will be learned. be industrious and frugal, and you will be rich. be sober and temperate, and you will be healthy. be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. at least, you will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for such consequences. i pray god to bless you both! being ever your affectionate friend, b. franklin. footnote: [ ] from the gentleman's magazine for may . _editor._ to doctor mather of boston[ ]. _effect of early impressions on the mind._ rev. sir, i received your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the people of the united states, which i read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. such writings, though they may be lightly passed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impression on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable. permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. when i was a boy, i met with a book entitled, "essays to do good," which i think was written by your father. it had been so little regarded by a former possessor, that several leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct through life: for i have always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good, than 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 seventy-eighth year. i am in my seventy ninth. we are grown old together. it is now more than sixty years since i left boston; but i remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. the last time i saw your father was in the beginning of , when i visited him after my first trip to pensylvania. 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 overhead. 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 who never missed any occasion of giving instruction; and upon this he said to me: "you are young, and have the world before you: stoop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps." this advice, thus beat into my heart, 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 once hoped to lay my bones there. i left it in . i visited it in , , , and ; and in i was in england. in 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 , but could not obtain my dismission from this employment here; and now i fear i shall never have that happiness. my best wishes however attend my dear country, "_esto perpetua_." it is now blessed with an excellent constitution: may it last for ever! 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 beasts among our countrymen, who are endeavouring to weaken that connection. let us preserve our reputation, by performing our engagements; our credit, by fulfilling our contracts; and our 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, reverend sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, b. franklin. _passy, may , ._ footnote: [ ] from the american museum, vol. vii. p. . _editor._ _the whistle[ ]._ _passy, nov. , ._ 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 name-sakes, 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 but 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, at seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. i went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_, that i met by the way in the hands of another boy, i voluntarily offered him all my money for it. 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. this put me in mind what good things i might have bought with the rest of the money; and they 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 so 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 any one too ambitious of court favours, 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_, says 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_, says i, _you pay too much for your whistle_. when i meet 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_, says i, _you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure: you give too much for your whistle_. if i see one fond of appearance, of fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, _alas_, says 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 it is_, says i, _that she has paid so much for a whistle_! in short, i conceived, that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had 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 dearest friend, and believe me ever yours very sincerely and with unalterable affection, b. franklin. footnote: [ ] this story has generally been supposed to have been written by dr. franklin for his nephew: but it seems, by the introductory paragraphs, which we have no where seen prefixed to the story but in a small collection of our author's works printed at paris, to have been addressed to some female relative. the two concluding paragraphs, which are from the same source, are equally new to us. _editor._ _a petition to those who have the superintendency of education[ ]._ 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 aukward, and wanting 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. footnote: [ ] from the american museum, vol. vii. p. . _editor._ _the handsome and deformed leg[ ]._ there are two sorts of people in the world, who, with equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other comforts of life, become, the one happy, and the other miserable. this arises very much from the different views in which they consider things, persons, and events; and the effect of those different views upon their own minds. in whatever situation men can be placed, they may find conveniences and inconveniences; in whatever company, they may find persons and conversation more or less pleasing: at whatever table, they may meet with meats and drinks of better and worse taste, dishes better and worse dressed; in whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather: under whatever government, they may find good and bad laws, and good and bad administration of those laws; in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and beauties; in almost every face, and every person, they may discover fine features and defects, good and bad qualities. under these circumstances, the two sorts of people above mentioned fix their attention, those, who are disposed to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts of conversation, the well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerfulness. those, who are to be unhappy, think and speak only of the contraries. hence they are continually discontented themselves, and, by their remarks, sour the pleasures of society, offend personally many people, and make themselves every where disagreeable. if this turn of mind was founded in nature, such unhappy persons would be the more to be pitied. but as the disposition to criticise, and to be disgusted, is, perhaps, taken up originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, which, though at present strong, may nevertheless be cured, when those who have it are convinced of its bad effects on their felicity; i hope this little admonition may be of service to them, and put them on changing a habit, which, though in the exercise it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet has serious consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and misfortunes. for, as many are offended by, and nobody loves, this sort of people, no one shows them more than the most common civility and respect, and scarcely that; and this frequently puts them out of humour, and draws them into disputes and contentions. if they aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will stir a step, or speak a word, to favour their pretensions. if they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will defend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, and render them completely odious. if these people will not change this bad habit, and condescend to be pleased with what is pleasing, without fretting themselves and others about the contraries, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with them; which is always disagreeable, and sometimes very inconvenient, especially when one finds oneself entangled in their quarrels. an old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from experience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoided any intimacy with such people. he had, like other philosophers, a thermometer, to show him the heat of the weather, and a barometer, to mark when it was likely to prove good or bad; but there being no instrument invented to discover, at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for that purpose, made use of his legs; one of which was remarkably handsome, the other, by some accident, crooked and deformed. if a stranger, at the first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than his handsome one, he doubted him. if he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg, that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no 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, and take the same resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those infected with it, i therefore advise those critical querulous, discontented, unhappy people, that, if they wish to be respected and beloved by others, and happy in themselves, they should _leave off looking at the ugly leg_. footnote: [ ] from the columbian magazine, vol. i. p. . _editor._ _morals of chess[ ]._ 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 civilized 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 begins lately to make its appearance in these states. it is so interesting in itself, as not to need the view of gain to induce engaging in it; and thence it is never 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 acquired or strengthened by it, so as to become habits, ready on all occasions. for life is a kind of chess, in which we have often points to gain, and 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, 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 advantage 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 chess-board, 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 take 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 thereby becomes 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 bad 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 oneself from a supposed insurmountable difficulty, that one is encouraged to continue the contest to the last, in hopes of victory by our own skill, or at least of getting a stale mate, by the negligence of our adversary. and whoever considers, what in chess he often sees instances of, that particular pieces of success are apt to produce presumption, and its consequent inattention, by which the loss may be recovered, will learn not to be too much discouraged by the 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 choose this beneficial amusement, in preference to others, which are not attended with the same advantages, every circumstance which may increase the pleasures 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 agreeably. 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 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 it 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 criticising, 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. footnote: [ ] this letter has appeared in too many forms in this country, and is too well known to be dr. franklin's, to require being authenticated. _editor._ _the art of procuring pleasant dreams[ ]._ inscribed to miss ****, being written at her request. as a great part of our life is spent in sleep, during which we have sometimes pleasing, 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 dreams, it is, as the french say, _tant 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 a-bed in the morning. 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 into 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 putrify, if the particles, as 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 make 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 being about to be hurtful, by producing certain uneasinesses, slight indeed at first, such as, with regard to the lungs, is a trifling sensation, and to the pores of the skin a kind of restlessness, which is difficult to describe, and few that feel it know the cause of it. but we may recollect, that sometimes, on waking in the night, we have, if warmly covered, found it difficult to get asleep again. we turn often without finding repose in any position. this figettiness, to use a vulgar expression for want of a better, is occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the skin, owing to the retension 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 rarifies 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, preventative and curative, follow: . by eating moderately (as before advised for health's sake) 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. . 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. . 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 drier and colder. when you begin to feel the cold air unpleasant, then return to your bed, and you will soon fall asleep, and your sleep will be sweet and pleasant. all the scenes presented to your fancy will be 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 your ancles: for though a bad position may at first give but little pain and be hardly noticed, yet a continuance will render it less tolerable, and the uneasiness may come on while you are asleep, and disturb your imagination. these are the rules of the art. but though they will generally prove effectual in producing the end intended, there is a case in which the most punctual observance of them will be totally fruitless. i need not mention the case to you, my dear friend, but my account of the art would be imperfect without it. the case is, when the person, who desires to have pleasant dreams, has not taken care to preserve, what is necessary above all things, a good conscience. footnotes: [ ] from the columbian magazine, vol. i. p. . _editor._ [ ] what physicians call the perspirable matter, is that vapour which passes off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores of the skin. the quantity of this is said to be five-eighths of what we eat. _dialogue between franklin and the gout[ ]._ _midnight, october , ._ _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. _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 tipler; 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 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 these 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 passey, 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 wholsome 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 exercise 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 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: 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 you, when you go to auteuil, must have your carriage, though it is no farther 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. _franklin._--how can you so cruelly sport with my torments? _gout._--sport? i am very serious. i have here a list of your 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, alledging, 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 mr. b----'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 as 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 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 beside 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 reconcileable 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. b----'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, anteuil, chaillois, &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 coachmen to set them down. that is an act that will be good for your soul; and at the same time, after your visit to the b----'s, 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! _gout._--how ungrateful are you 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 intreat 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 the 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. footnote: [ ] we have no authority for ascribing this paper to dr. franklin, but its appearance, with his name, in a small collection of his works printed a few years ago at paris, and cited before, page . as the rest of the papers in that collection are genuine, this probably is also genuine. what we give is a translation. _editor._ to miss hubbard. _on the death of relatives[ ]._ _philadelphia, feb. , ._ 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 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 cut off. he, who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely, since the pain goes with it: and he, who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibilities of pains and diseases, it was liable to, or capable of making him suffer. our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleasure, which is to last for ever. his chair was ready first, and he is gone before us. we could not all conveniently start together: and why should you and i be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know where to find him? adieu. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] from the columbian magazine, vol. i, p. . _editor._ [ ] dr. franklin's brother, mr. john franklin. to madame brilliant. _the ephemera an emblem of human life[ ]._ 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, 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 _muscheto_; 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 or 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," says 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 grand-children of the friends of my youth, who are now, alas no more! and i must soon follow them; for, by the course of nature, though still in health, i cannot expect to live above seven or eight minutes longer. what now avails all my toil and labour, in amassing honey-dew on this leaf, which i cannot live to enjoy! what the political struggles i have been engaged in, for the good of my com-patriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies, for the benefit of our race in general! for in politics (what can laws do without morals?) our present race of ephemeræ will in a course of minutes become corrupt, like those of other and older bushes, and consequently as wretched: and in philosophy how small our progress! alas! art is long, and life is short! my friends would comfort me with the idea of a name, they say, i shall leave behind me; and they tell me, i have lived long enough to nature and to glory. but what will fame be to an ephemera, who no longer exists? and what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole moulin joly, shall come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin?"---- to me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemeræ, and now and then a kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable brilliant. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] from the american museum, vol. viii. p. . it was written during the author's residence at passy, and a translation of it at that time appeared in one of the parisian periodical publications. this appears to be the original piece. _editor._ appendix: containing . papers proper for insertion, but omitted, in the preceding volumes: and . letters by several eminent persons, illustrative of dr. franklin's manners and character. appendix, no. i. containing papers proper for insertion, but omitted, in the preceding volumes. _letter to sir hans sloane[ ]._ _june , ._ sir, having lately been in the northern parts of america, i have brought from thence a purse made of the _asbestos_, a piece of the stone, and a piece of the wood, the pithy part of which is of the same nature, and called by the inhabitants salamander cotton. as you are noted to be a lover of curiosities, i have informed you of these: and if you have any inclination to purchase or see them, let me know your pleasure, by a line directed for me at the golden fan in little britain, and i will wait upon you with them. i am, sir, your most humble servant, b. franklin. p. s. i expect to be out of town in two or three days, and therefore beg an immediate answer. footnote: [ ] from the gentleman's magazine, for [___], , where it appears among other original letters to sir hans sloane, from different persons. _editor._ _letter to michael collinson, esq[ ]._ [no date.] dear sir, understanding that an account of our dear departed friend, mr. peter collinson, is intended to be given to the public, i cannot omit expressing my approbation of the design. the characters of good men are exemplary, and often stimulate the well disposed to an imitation, beneficial to mankind, and honourable to themselves. and as you may be unacquainted with the following instances of his zeal and usefulness in promoting knowledge, which fell within my observation, i take the liberty of informing you, that in , a subscription library being set on foot at philadelphia, he encouraged the design by making several very valuable presents to it, and procuring others from his friends: and as the library company had a considerable sum arising annually to be laid out in books, and needed a judicious friend in london to transact the business for them, he voluntarily and cheerfully undertook that service, and executed it for more than thirty years successively, assisting in the choice of books, and taking the whole care of collecting and shipping them, without ever charging or accepting any consideration for his trouble. the success of this library (greatly owing to his kind countenance and good advice) encouraged the erecting others in different places on the same plan; and it is supposed, there are now upwards of thirty subsisting in the several colonies, which have contributed greatly to the spreading of useful knowledge in that part of the world; the books he recommended being all of that kind, and the catalogue of this first library being much respected and followed by those libraries that succeeded. during the same time he transmitted to the directors of the library the earliest accounts of every new european improvement in agriculture and the arts, and every philosophical discovery; among which, in , he sent over an account of the new german experiments in electricity, together with a glass tube, and some directions for using it so as to repeat those experiments. this was the first notice i had of that curious subject, which i afterwards prosecuted with some diligence, being encouraged by the friendly reception he gave to the letters i wrote to him upon it. please to accept this small testimony of mine to his memory, for which i shall ever have the utmost respect; and believe me, with sincere esteem, dear sir, your most humble servant, b. franklin. footnote: [ ] from the london magazine, for april, . _editor._ _letter respecting captain cook._ to all captains and commanders of armed ships, acting by commission from the congress of the united states of america, now in war with great britain. gentlemen, a ship having been fitted out from england, before the commencement of this war, to make discoveries of new countries in unknown seas, under the conduct of that most celebrated navigator, captain cook,--an undertaking truly laudable in itself, as the increase of geographical knowledge facilitates the communication between distant nations, in the exchange of useful products and manufactures, and the extension of arts whereby the common enjoyments of human life are multiplied and augmented, and science of other kinds increased, to the benefit of mankind in general.--this is therefore most earnestly to recommend to every one of you, that in case the said ship, which is now expected to be soon in the european seas on her return, should happen to fall into your hands, you would not consider her as an enemy, nor suffer any plunder to be made of the effects contained in her, nor obstruct her immediate return to england, by detaining her or sending her into any other part of europe or america, but that you would treat the said captain cook and his people with all civility and kindness, affording them, as common friends to mankind, all the assistance in your power, which they may happen to stand in need of. in so doing, you will not only gratify the generosity of your own dispositions, but there is no doubt of your obtaining the approbation of the congress[ ], and your own american owners. i have the honour to be, gentlemen, your most obedient, &c. b. franklin, minister plenipotentiary from the congress of the united states to the court of france. _at passy, near paris, this th day of march, ._ footnote: [ ] dr. kippis, in his life of captain cook, had asserted, upon what he deemed unquestionable authority, that dr. franklin's orders were instantly reversed, and that it was directed by congress, to seize captain cook, if an opportunity of doing it occurred: but, finding that the information was false, he addressed a letter to the editor of the gentleman's magazine, in september, , publicly acknowledging his mistake. in the american museum, from which we have taken dr. franklin's letter, the correspondent who communicated the letter says, that "the generous proceeding of dr. franklin in writing it was so well known in england, and the sentiments it manifested so much approved by the government there, that, when cook's voyage was printed, the admiralty sent to dr. franklin a copy of the same in three volumes quarto, accompanied with the elegant collection of plates, and a very polite letter from lord howe, signifying, that the present was made with his majesty's express approbation; and the royal society having, in honour of that illustrious navigator, one of their members, struck some gold medals to be distributed among his friends and the friends of his voyage, one of those medals, was also sent to dr. franklin, by order of the society, together with a letter from their worthy president, sir joseph banks, expressing likewise, that it was sent with the approbation of his majesty." _editor._ _an address to the public, from the pensylvania society for promoting the abolition of slavery, and the relief of free negroes, unlawfully held in bondage[ ]._ 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 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 police; 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, th of november, ._ footnote: [ ] in an american periodical publication, this address and the plan that follows it are ascribed to the pen of dr. franklin, which induces us to give them a place here. _editor._ _plan for improving the condition of the free blacks._ the business relative to free blacks shall be transacted by a committee of twenty-four persons, annually elected by ballot, at the meeting of this society, in the month called april; and in order to perform the different services with expedition, regularity, and energy, this committee shall resolve itself into the following sub-committees, viz: i. a committee of inspection, who shall superintend the morals, general conduct, and ordinary situation of the free negroes, and afford them advice and instruction, protection from wrongs, and other friendly offices. ii. a committee of guardians, who shall place out children and young people with suitable persons, that they may (during a moderate time of apprenticeship, or servitude) learn some trade or other business of subsistence. the committee may effect this partly by a persuasive influence on parents and the persons concerned; and partly by co-operating with the laws, which are, or may be enacted for this, and similar purposes: in forming contracts on these occasions, the committee shall secure to the society, as far as may be practicable, the right of guardianship over the persons so bound. iii. a committee of education, who shall superintend the school-instruction of the children and youth of the free blacks; they may either influence them to attend regularly the schools, already established in this city, or form others with this view; they shall, in either case, provide, that the pupils may receive such learning, as is necessary for their future situation in life; and especially a deep impression of the most important, and generally acknowledged moral and religious principles. they shall also procure and preserve a regular record of the marriages, births, and manumissions of all free blacks. iv. a committee of employ, who shall endeavour to procure constant employment for those free negroes who are able to work: as the want of this would occasion poverty, idleness, and many vicious habits. this committee will, by sedulous enquiry, be enabled to find common labour for a great number; they will also provide, that such, as indicate proper talents, may learn various trades, which may be done by prevailing upon them to bind themselves for such a term of years, as shall compensate their masters for the expence and trouble of instruction and maintenance. the committee may attempt the institution of some useful and simple manufactures, which require but little skill, and also may assist, in commencing business, such as appear to be qualified for it. whenever the committee of inspection shall find persons of any particular description requiring attention, they shall immediately direct them to the committee, of whose care they are the proper objects. in matters of a mixed nature, the committees shall confer, and, if necessary, act in concert. affairs of great importance shall be referred to the whole committee. the expence, incurred by the prosecution of this plan, shall be defrayed by a fund, to be formed by donations, or subscriptions, for these particular purposes, and to be kept separate from the other funds of this society. the committee shall make a report of their proceedings, and of the state of their stock, to the society, at their quarterly meetings, in the months called april and october. _philadelphia, th october, ._ _paper: a poem[ ]._ some wit of old--such wits of old there were-- whose hints show'd meaning, whose allusions care, by one brave stroke to mark all human kind, call'd clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind; when still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot. the thought was happy, pertinent, and true; methinks a genius might the plan pursue. i (can you pardon my presumption), i-- no wit, no genius, yet for once will try. various the papers various wants produce, the wants of fashion, elegance, and use. men are as various: and, if right i scan, each sort of _paper_ represents some _man_. pray note the fop--half powder and half lace-- nice, as a bandbox were his dwelling-place: he's the _gilt-paper_, which apart you store, and lock from vulgar hands in the 'scrutoire. mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, are _copy-paper_, of inferior worth; less priz'd, more useful, for your desk decreed, free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need. the wretch, whom av'rice bids to pinch and spare, starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, is coarse _brown-paper_; such as pedlars choose to wrap up wares, which better men will use. take next the miser's contrast, who destroys health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. will any paper match him? yes, throughout, he's a true _sinking-paper_, past all doubt. the retail politician's anxious thought deems _this_ side always right, and _that_ stark nought; he foams with censure; with applause he raves-- a dupe to rumours, and a tool of knaves; he'll want no type his weakness to proclaim, while such a thing as _fools-cap_ has a name. the hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, who picks a quarrel, if you step awry, who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure: what's he? what? _touch-paper_ to be sure. what are our poets, take them as they fall, good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all? them and their works in the same class you'll find; they are the mere _waste-paper_ of mankind. observe the maiden, innocently sweet, she's fair _white-paper_, an unsullied sheet; on which the happy man, whom fate ordains, may write his _name_, and take her for his pains. one instance more, and only one i'll bring; 'tis the _great man_ who scorns a little thing, whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own, form'd on the feelings of his heart alone: true genuine _royal-paper_ is his breast; of all the kinds most precious, purest, best. footnote: [ ] we have been told, that this poem is not franklin's, and the name of some other person was at the time mentioned to us as the author; but as we have forgotten both the name and the authority, and as the poem has been ascribed to dr. franklin in the american museum, we think it not right to omit it. _editor._ _plain truth; or serious considerations on the present state of the city of philadelphia, and province of pensylvania:_ by a tradesman of philadelphia[ ]. capta urbe, nihil fit reliqui victis. sed, per deos immortales, vos ego appello, qui semper domos, villas, signa, tabulas vestras, tantæ æstimationis fecistis; si ista, cujuscumque modi sint, quæ amplexamini, retinere, si voluptatibus vestris otium præbere vultis; expergiscimini aliquando, & capessite rempublicam. non agitur nunc de sociorum injuriis; _libertas & anima_ nostra in dubio est. dux hostium cum exercitu supra caput est. vos cunctamini etiam nunc, & dubitatis quid faciatis? scilicet, res ipsa aspera est, sed vos non timetis eam. imo vero maxime; sed inertiâ & mollitiâ animi, alius alium expectantes, cunctamini; videlicit, diis immortalibus confisi, qui hanc rempublicam in maximis periculis servavere _non votis, neque suppliciis muliebribus, auxilia deorum parantur_: vigilando, agendo, bene consulendo, prospere omnia cedunt. ubi socordiæ tete atque ignaviæ tradideris, nequicquam deos implores; irati, infestique sunt. m. por. cat. in salust. it is said, the wise italians make this proverbial remark on our nation, viz. the english _feel_, but they do not _see_. that is, they are sensible of inconveniences when they are present, but do not take sufficient care to prevent them: their natural courage makes them too little apprehensive of danger, so that they are often surprised by it, unprovided of the proper means of security. when it is too late, they are sensible of their imprudence: after great fires, they provide buckets and engines: after a pestilence, they think of keeping clean their streets and common sewers: and when a town has been sacked by their enemies, they provide for its defence, &c. this kind of _after-wisdom_ is indeed so common with us, as to occasion the vulgar, though very insignificant saying, _when the steed is stolen, you shut the stable door_. but the more insensible we generally are of public danger and indifferent when warned of it, so much the more freely, openly, and earnestly, ought such as apprehend it to speak their sentiments; that, if possible, those who seem to sleep may be awakened, to think of some means of avoiding or preventing the mischief, before it be too late. believing therefore, that it is my _duty_, i shall honestly speak my mind in the following paper. war, at this time, rages over a great part of the known world; our newspapers are weekly filled with fresh accounts of the destruction it every where occasions. pensylvania, indeed, situate in the centre of the colonies, has hitherto enjoyed profound repose; and though our nation is engaged in a bloody war, with two great and powerful kingdoms, yet, defended, in a great degree, from the french, on the one hand, by the northern provinces, and from the spaniards, on the other, by the southern, at no small expence to each, our people have, till lately, slept securely in their habitations. there is no british colony, excepting this, but has made some kind of provision for its defence; many of them have therefore never been attempted by an enemy; and others, that were attacked, have generally defended themselves with success. the length and difficulty of our bay and river have been thought so effectual a security to us, that hitherto no means have been entered into, that might discourage an attempt upon us, or prevent its succeeding. but whatever security this might have been while both country and city were poor, and the advantage to be expected scarce worth the hazard of an attempt, it is now doubted, whether we can any longer safely depend upon it. our wealth, of late years much encreased, is one strong temptation, our defenceless state another, to induce an enemy to attack us; while the acquaintance they have lately gained with our bay and river, by means of the prisoners and flags of truce they have had among us; by spies which they almost every where maintain, and perhaps from traitors among ourselves; with the facility of getting pilots to conduct them; and the known absence of ships of war, during the greatest part of the year, from both virginia and new york, ever since the war began, render the appearance of success to the enemy far more promising, and therefore highly encrease our danger. that our enemies may have spies abroad, and some even in these colonies, will not be made much doubt of, when it is considered, that such has been the practice of all nations in all ages, whenever they were engaged, or intended to engage, in war. of this we have an early example in the book of judges (too pertinent to our case, and therefore i must beg leave a little to enlarge upon it) where we are told, _chap._ xviii, v. . that _the children of dan sent of their family five men from their coasts to spie out the land, and search it, saying, go, search the land_. these danites it seems were at this time not very orthodox in their religion, and their spies met with a certain idolatrous priest of their own persuasion, v. , and they said to him, _who brought thee hither? what makest thou in this place? and what hast thou here?_ [would to god no such priests were to be found among us]. and they said unto him, v. . _ask counsel of god, that we may know, whether our way which we go shall be prosperous: and the priest said unto them, go in peace; before the lord is your way wherein you go._ [are there no priests among us, think you, that might, in the like case, give an enemy as good encouragement? it is well known, that we have numbers of the same religion with those, who of late encouraged the french to invade our mother country.] _and they came_, verse , _to laish, and saw the people that were therein, how they dwelt_ careless, _after the manner of the zidonians_, quiet _and_ secure. they _thought_ themselves secure, no doubt; and as they _never had been_ disturbed, vainly imagined they _never should_. it is not unlikely, that some might see the danger they were exposed to by living in that _careless_ manner; but that, if these publicly expressed their apprehensions, the rest reproached them as timorous persons, wanting courage or confidence in their gods, who (they might say) had hitherto protected them. but the spies, verse , returned, and said to their countrymen, verse , _arise, that we may go up against them; for we have seen the land, and behold it is very good! and are ye still? be not slothful to go._ verse , _when ye go, ye shall come to a people_ secure; [that is, a people that apprehend no danger, and therefore have made no provision against it; great encouragement this!] _and to a large land, and a place where there is no want of any thing_. what could they desire more? accordingly we find, in the following verses, that _six hundred men_ only, _appointed with weapons of war_, undertook the conquest of this _large land_; knowing that men, armed and disciplined, would be an over-match perhaps for , , unarmed, undisciplined, and off their guard. and when they went against it, the idolatrous priest, verse , _with his graven image, and his ephod, and his seraphim, and his molten image_, [plenty of superstitious trinkets] joined with them, and, no doubt, gave them all the intelligence and assistance in his power; his heart, as the text assures us, _being glad_, perhaps for reasons more than one. and now, what was the fate of poor laish! the men being arrived, found, as the spies had reported, a people quiet and secure, verse , , _and they smote them with the edge of the sword, and burnt the city with_ fire; _and there was no_ deliverer, _because it was far from zidon_.--not so far from zidon, however, as pensylvania is from britain; and yet we are, if possible, more _careless_ than the people of laish! as the scriptures are given for our reproof, instruction and warning, may we make a due use of this example, before it be too late! and is our _country_, any more than our city, altogether free from danger? perhaps not. we have, it is true, had a long peace with the indians: but it is a long peace indeed, as well as a long lane, that has no ending. the french know the power and importance of the six nations, and spare no artifice, pains or expence, to gain them to their interest. by their priests they have converted many to their religion, and these[ ] have openly espoused their cause. the rest appear irresolute what part to take; no persuasions, though enforced with costly presents, having yet been able to engage them generally on our side, though we had numerous forces on their borders, ready to second and support them. what then may be expected, now those forces are, by orders from the crown, to be disbanded, when our boasted expedition is laid aside, through want (as it may appear to them) either of strength or courage; when they see, that the french and their indians, boldly, and with impunity, ravage the frontiers of new york, and scalp the inhabitants; when those few indians, that engaged with us against the french, are left exposed to their resentment: when they consider these things, is there no danger that, through disgust at our usage, joined with fear of the french power, and greater confidence in their promises and protection than in ours, they may be wholly gained over by our enemies, and join in the war against us? if such should be the case, which god forbid, how soon may the mischief spread to our frontier countries? and what may we expect to be the consequence, but desertion of plantations, ruin, bloodshed and confusion! perhaps some in the city, towns, and plantations near the river, may say to themselves, "an indian war on the frontiers will not affect us; the enemy will never come near our habitations; let those concerned take care of themselves." and others who live in the country, when they are told of the danger the city is in from attempts by sea, may say, "what is that to us? the enemy will be satisfied with the plunder of the town, and never think it worth his while to visit our plantations: let the town take care of itself."--these are not mere suppositions, for i have heard some talk in this strange manner. but are these the sentiments of true pensylvanians, of fellow-countrymen, or even of men, that have common sense or goodness? is not the whole province one body, united by living under the same laws, and enjoying the same privileges? are not the people of city and country connected as relations, both by blood and marriage, and in friendships equally dear? are they not likewise united in interest, and mutually useful and necessary to each other? when the feet are wounded, shall the head say, it is not me; i will not trouble myself to contrive relief! or if the head is in danger, shall the hands say, we are not affected, and therefore will lend no assistance! no. for so would the body be easily destroyed: but when all parts join their endeavours for its security, it is often preserved. and such should be the union between the country and the town; and such their mutual endeavours for the safety of the whole. when new england, a distant colony, involved itself in a grievous debt to reduce cape breton, we freely gave four thousand pounds for _their_ relief. and at another time, remembering that great britain, still more distant, groaned under heavy taxes in supporting the war, we threw in our mite to their assistance, by a free gift of three thousand pounds: and shall country and town join in helping strangers (as those comparatively are) and yet refuse to assist each other? but whatever different opinions we have of our security in other respects, our trade, all seem to agree, is in danger of being ruined in another year. the great success of our enemies, in two different cruizes this last summer in our bay, must give them the greatest encouragement to repeat more frequently their visits, the profit being almost certain, and the risk next to nothing. will not the first effect of this be, an enhancing of the price of all foreign goods to the tradesman and farmer, who use or consume them? for the rate of insurance will increase, in proportion to the hazard of importing them; and in the same proportion will the price of those goods increase. if the price of the tradesman's work, and the farmer's produce, would increase equally with the price of foreign commodities, the damage would not be so great: but the direct contrary must happen. for the same hazard or rate of insurance, that raises the price of what is imported, must be deducted out of, and lower the price of what is exported. without this addition and deduction, as long as the enemy cruize at our capes, and take those vessels that attempt to _go out_, as well as those that endeavour to _come in_, none can afford to trade, and business must be soon at a stand. and will not the consequences be, a discouragement of many of the vessels that used to come from other places to purchase our produce, and thereby a turning of the trade to ports that can be entered with less danger, and capable of furnishing them with the same commodities, as new york, &c.; a lessening of business to every shopkeeper, together with multitudes of bad debts, the high rate of goods discouraging the buyers, and the low rates of their labour and produce, rendering them unable to pay for what they had bought; loss of employment to the tradesman, and bad pay for what little he does; and lastly, loss of many inhabitants, who will retire to other provinces not subject to the like inconveniences; whence a lowering of the value of lands, lots, and houses. the enemy, no doubt, have been told, that the people of pensylvania are quakers, and against all defence, from a principle of conscience; this, though true of a part, and that a small part only of the inhabitants, is commonly said of the whole; and what may make it look probable to strangers is, that in fact, nothing is done by any part of the people towards their defence. but to refuse defending one's self, or one's country, is so unusual a thing among mankind, that possibly they may not believe it, till by experience, they find they can come higher and higher up our river, seize our vessels, land and plunder our plantations and villages, and retire with their booty unmolested. will not this confirm the report, and give them the greatest encouragement to strike one bold stroke for the city, and for the whole plunder of the river? it is said by some, that the expence of a vessel, to guard our trade, would be very heavy, greater than perhaps all the enemy can be supposed to take from us at sea would amount to; and that it would be cheaper for the government to open an insurance office, and pay all losses. but is this right reasoning? i think not; for what the enemy takes is clear loss to us, and gain to him; increasing his riches and strength, as much as it diminishes ours, so making the difference double; whereas the money, paid our own tradesmen for building and fitting out a vessel of defence, remains in the country, and circulates among us; what is paid to the officers and seamen, that navigate her, is also spent ashore, and soon gets into other hands; the farmer receives the money for her provisions, and, on the whole, nothing is clearly lost to the country but her wear and tear, or so much as she sells for at the end of the war less than her first cost. this loss, and a trifling one it is, is all the inconvenience; but how many and how great are the conveniences and advantages! and should the enemy, through our supineness and neglect to provide for the defence both of our trade and country, be encouraged to attempt this city, and after plundering us of our goods, either _burn it_, or put it to ransom, how great would that loss be! besides the confusion, terror, and distress, so many hundreds of families would be involved in! the thought of this latter circumstance so much affects me, that i cannot forbear expatiating somewhat more upon it. you have, my dear countrymen and fellow citizens, riches to tempt a considerable force to unite and attack you, but are under no ties or engagements to unite for your defence. hence, on the first alarm, _terror_ will spread over all; and as no man can with certainty depend that another will stand by him, beyond doubt very many will seek safety by a speedy flight. those, that are reputed rich, will flee, through fear of torture, to make them produce more than they are able. the man, that has a wife and children, will find them hanging on his neck, beseeching him with tears to quit the city, and save his life, to guide and protect them in that time of general desolation and ruin. all will run into confusion, amidst cries and lamentations, and the hurry and disorder of departers, carrying away their effects. the few that remain will be unable to resist. _sacking_ the city will be the first, and _burning_ it, in all probability, the last act of the enemy. this, i believe, will be the case, if you have timely notice. but what must be your condition, if suddenly surprized, without previous alarm, perhaps in the night! confined to your houses, you will have nothing to trust to but the enemy's mercy. your best fortune will be, to fall under the power of commanders of king's ships, able to controul the mariners; and not into the hands of _licentious privateers_. who can, without the utmost horror, conceive the miseries of the latter! when your persons, fortunes, wives, and daughters, shall be subject to the wanton and unbridled rage, rapine, and lust, of negroes, mulattoes, and others, the vilest and most abandoned of mankind[ ]. a dreadful scene! which some may represent as exaggerated. i think it my duty to warn you: judge for yourselves. it is true, with very little notice, the rich may shift for themselves. the means of speedy flight are ready in their hands; and with some previous care to lodge money and effects in distant and secure places, though they should lose much, yet enough may be left them, and to spare. but most unhappily circumstanced indeed are we, the middling people, the tradesmen, shopkeepers, and farmers of this province and city! we cannot all fly with our families; and if we could, how shall we subsist? no; we and they, and what little we have gained by hard labour and industry, must bear the brunt: the weight of contributions, extorted by the enemy (as it is of taxes among ourselves) must be surely borne by us. nor can it be avoided, as we stand at present; for though we are numerous, we are quite defenceless, having neither forts, arms, union, nor discipline. and though it were true, that our trade might be protected at no great expence, and our country and our city easily defended, if proper measures were but taken; yet, who shall take these measures? who shall pay that expence? on whom may we fix our eyes with the least expectation, that they will do any thing for our security? should we address that wealthy and powerful body of people, who have ever since the war governed our elections, and filled almost every seat in our assembly; should we intreat them 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; and that if, on account of their religious scruples, they themselves could do no act for our defence, yet they might retire, relinquish their power for a season, quit the helm to freer hands during the present tempest, to hands, chosen by their own interest too, whose prudence and moderation, with regard to them, they might safely confide in; secure, from their own native strength, of resuming again their present station, whenever it shall please them: should we remind them, that the public money, raised _from all_, belongs _to all_; that since they have, for their own ease, and to secure themselves in the quiet enjoyment of their religious principles (and may they long enjoy them) expended such large sums to oppose petitions, and engage favourable representations of their conduct, if they themselves could by no means be free to appropriate any part of the public money for our defence; yet it would be no more than justice, to spare us a reasonable sum for that purpose, which they might easily give to the king's use as heretofore, leaving all the appropriation to others, who would faithfully apply it as we desired: should we tell them, that though the treasury be at present empty, it may soon be filled by the outstanding public debts collected; or at least credit might be had for such a sum, on a single vote of the assembly: that though _they_ themselves may be resigned and easy under this naked, defenceless state of the country, it is far otherwise with a very great part of the people; with _us_, who can have no confidence that god will protect those, that neglect the use of rational means for their security; nor have any reason to hope, that our losses, if we should suffer any, may be made up by collections in our favour at home. should we conjure them by all the ties of neighbourhood, friendship, justice, and humanity, to consider these things; and what distraction, misery, and confusion, what desolation and distress, may possibly be the effect of their _unseasonable_ predominancy and perseverance; yet all would be in vain: for they have already been, by great numbers of the people, petitioned in vain. our late governor did for years solicit, request, and even threaten them in vain. the council have since twice remonstrated to them in vain. their religious prepossessions are unchangeable, their obstinacy invincible. is there then the least hope remaining, that from that quarter any thing should arise for our security? and is our prospect better, if we turn our eyes to the strength of the opposite party, those great and rich men, merchants and others, who are ever railing at quakers for doing what their principles seem to require, and what in charity we ought to believe they think their duty, but take no one step themselves for the public safety. they have so much wealth and influence, if they would use it, that they might easily, by their endeavours and example, raise a military spirit among us, make us fond, studious of, and expert in, martial discipline, and affect every thing that is necessary, under god, for our protection. but _envy_ seems to have taken possession of their hearts, and to have eaten out and destroyed every generous, noble, public-spirited sentiment. _rage_ at the disappointment of their little schemes for power, gnaws their souls, and fills them with such cordial hatred to their opponents, that every proposal, by the execution of which _those_ may receive benefit as well as themselves, is rejected with indignation. "what," say they, "shall we lay out our money to protect the trade of quakers? shall we fight to defend quakers? no; let the trade perish, and the city burn; let what will happen, we shall never lift a finger to prevent it." yet the quakers have _conscience_ to plead for their resolution not to fight, which these gentlemen have not. conscience with you, gentlemen, is on the other side of the question: conscience enjoins it as a _duty_ on you (and indeed i think it such on every man) to defend your country, your friends, your aged parents, your wives, and helpless children: and yet you resolve not to perform this duty, but act contrary to your own consciences, because the quakers act according to theirs. till of late, i could scarce believe the story of him, who refused to pump in a sinking ship, because one on board, whom he hated, would be saved by it as well as himself. but such, it seems, is the unhappiness of human nature, that our passions, when violent, often are too hard for the united force of reason, duty, and religion. thus unfortunately are we circumstanced at this time, my dear countrymen and fellow-citizens; we, i mean, the middling people; the farmers, shopkeepers, and tradesmen of this city and country. through the dissensions of our leaders, through mistaken principles of religion, joined with a love of worldly power, on the one hand; through pride, envy, and implacable resentment on the other; our lives, our families, and little fortunes, dear to us as any great man's can be to him, are to remain continually exposed to destruction, from an enterprising, cruel, now well-informed, and by success encouraged, enemy. it seems as if heaven, justly displeased at our growing wickedness, and determined to punish[ ] this once-favoured land, had suffered our chiefs to engage in these foolish and mischievous contentions, for _little posts_ and _paltry distinctions_, that our hands might be bound up, our understandings darkened and misled, and every means of our security neglected. it seems as if our greatest men, our _cives nobilissimi_[ ] of both parties, had sworn the ruin of the country, and invited the french, our most inveterate enemy to destroy it. where then shall we seek for succour and protection? the government we are immediately under denies it to us; and if the enemy comes, we are _far from zidon, and there is no deliverer near_. our case is dangerously bad; but perhaps there is yet a remedy, if we have but the prudence and the spirit to apply it. if this new flourishing city, and greatly improving colony, is destroyed and ruined, it will not be for want of numbers of inhabitants able to bear arms in its defence. it is computed, that we have at least (exclusive of the quakers) sixty thousand fighting men, acquainted with fire arms, many of them hunters and marksmen, hardy and bold. all we want is order, discipline, and a few cannon. at present we are like the separate filaments of flax before the thread is formed, without strength, because without connection; but union would make us strong, and even formidable. though the _great_ should neither help nor join us; though they should even oppose our uniting, from some mean views of their own, yet, if we resolve upon it, and it please god to inspire us with the necessary prudence and vigour, it _may_ be effected. great numbers of our people are of british race, and though the fierce fighting animals of those happy islands are said to abate their native fire and intrepidity, when removed to a foreign clime, yet with the people it is not so; our neighbours of new england afford the world a convincing proof, that britons, though a hundred years transplanted, and to the remotest part of the earth, may yet retain, even to the third and fourth descent, that zeal for the public good, that military prowess, and that undaunted spirit, which has in every age distinguished their nation. what numbers have we likewise of _those brave people_, whose fathers in the last age made so glorious a stand for our religion and liberties, when invaded by a powerful french army, joined by irish catholics, under a bigotted popish king! let the memorable siege of londonderry, and the signal actions of the iniskillingers, by which the heart of that prince's schemes was broken, be perpetual testimonies of the courage and conduct of those noble warriors! nor are there wanting amongst us, thousands of _that warlike_ nation, whose sons have ever since the time of cæsar maintained the character he gave their fathers, of joining the most _obstinate courage_ to all the other military virtues: i mean the brave and steady germans. numbers of whom have actually borne arms in the service of their respective princes; and if they fought well for their tyrants and oppressors, would they refuse to unite with us in defence of their newly acquired and most precious liberty and property? were this union formed, were we once united, thoroughly armed and disciplined, was every thing in our power done for our security, as far as human means and foresight could provide, we might then, with more propriety, humbly ask the assistance of heaven, and a blessing on our lawful endeavours. the very fame of our strength and readiness would be a means of discouraging our enemies; for it is a wise and true saying, that _one sword often keeps another in the scabbard_. the way to secure peace is to be prepared for war. they, that are on their guard, and appear ready to receive their adversaries, are in much less danger of being attacked, than the supine, secure and negligent. we have yet a winter before us, which may afford a good and almost sufficient opportunity for this, if we seize and improve it with a becoming vigour. and if the hints contained in this paper are so happy as to meet with a suitable disposition of mind in his countrymen and fellow-citizens, the writer of it will, in a few days, lay before them a form of an association for the purposes herein mentioned, together with a practicable scheme for raising the money necessary for the defence of our trade, city, and country, without laying a burthen on any man. _may the god of wisdom, strength, and power, the lord of the armies of israel, inspire us with prudence in this time of danger, take away from us all the seeds of contention and division, and unite the hearts and counsels of all of us, of whatever sect or nation, in one bond of peace, brotherly love, and generous public spirit; may he give us strength and resolution to amend our lives, and remove from among us every thing that is displeasing to him; afford us his most gracious protection, confound the designs of our enemies, and give peace in all our borders, is the sincere prayer of_ a tradesman of philadelphia. footnotes: [ ] for this pamphlet we are indebted to the same american correspondent, who furnished us with the papers intitled the busy-body: but it came too late for insertion in its proper place, which, agreeably to its date, is at the commencement of the present volume. dr. w. smith, in his eulogium on our author, delivered before the american philosophical society, speaks of this production as follows: "in , a spanish privateer, having entered the bay of delaware, ascended as high as newcastle, to the great terror of the citizens of philadelphia. on this occasion franklin wrote his first political pamphlet called plain truth, to exhort his fellow-citizens to the bearing of arms; which laid the foundation of those military associations, which followed, at different times, for the defence of the country." we presume that dr. smith is correct in his date, but the copy sent us by our correspondent, which is the second edition, was printed in . _editor._ [ ] the praying indians. [ ] by accounts, the ragged crew of the spanish privateer that plundered mr. liston's, and another plantation, a little below newcastle, was composed of such as these. the _honour_ and _humanity_ of their officers may be judged of, by the treatment they gave poor captain brown, whom they took with martin's ship in returning from their cruize. because he bravely defended himself and vessel longer than they expected, for which every generous enemy would have esteemed him, did they, after he had struck and submitted, barbarously _stab_ and _murder_ him, though on his knees begging quarter! [ ] when god determined to punish his chosen people, the inhabitants of jerusalem, who, though breakers of his other laws, were scrupulous observers of that one, which required keeping holy the sabbath-day; he suffered even the strict observation of that command to be their ruin: for pompey, observing that they then obstinately refused to fight, made a general assault on that day, took the town, and butchered them with as little mercy as he found resistance. josephus. [ ] conjuravere cives nobilissimi patriam incendere; gallorum gentem, infestissimam nomini romano, ad bellum arcessunt. cat. in salust. _four letters[ ] to george whatley, esq. treasurer of the foundling hospital, london._ letter i. _passy, near paris, aug. , ._ my dear old friend, i received your kind letter of may , . i am ashamed that it has been so long unanswered. the indolence of old age, frequent indisposition, and too much business, are my only excuses. i had great pleasure in reading it, as it informed me of your welfare. your excellent little work, "the principles of trade," is too little known. i wish you would send me a copy of it by the bearer, my grandson and secretary, whom i beg leave to recommend to your civilities. i would get it translated and printed here, and if your bookseller has any quantity of them left, i should be glad he would send them to america. the ideas of our people there, though rather better than those that prevail in europe, are not so good as they should be: and that piece might be of service among them. since and soon after the date of your letter, we lost, unaccountably as well as unfortunately, that worthy, valuable young man you mention, your namesake maddeson. he was infinitely regretted by all that knew him. i am sorry your favourite charity does not go on as you could wish it. it is shrunk indeed by your admitting only children in a year. what you have told your brethren respecting america is true. if you find it difficult to dispose of your children in england, it looks as if you had too many people. and yet you are afraid of emigration. a subscription is lately set on foot here to encourage and assist mothers in nursing their infants themselves at home; the practice of sending them to the _enfans trouvés_ having risen here to a monstrous excess, as by the annual bills it appears they amount to near one third of the children born in paris. this subscription is likely to succeed, and may do a great deal of good, though it cannot answer all the purposes of a foundling hospital. your eyes must continue very good, since you are able to write so small a hand without spectacles. i cannot distinguish a letter even of large print, but am happy in the invention of double spectacles, which, serving for distant objects as well as near ones, make my eyes as useful to me as ever they were. if all the other defects and infirmities of old age could be as easily and cheaply remedied, it would be worth while, my friend, to live a good deal longer. but i look upon death to be as necessary to our constitutions as sleep. we shall rise refreshed in the morning.--adieu, and believe me ever, your's most affectionately, b. franklin. letter ii. _passy, may , ._ dear old friend, i received the very good letter you sent me by my grandson, together with your resemblance, which is placed in my chamber and gives me great pleasure: there is no trade, they say, without returns, and therefore i am punctual in making those you have ordered. i intended this should have been a long epistle, but i am interrupted, and can only add, that i am ever, yours, most affectionately, b. franklin. my grandson presents his most affectionate respects. letter iii. _passy, may , ._ dear old friend, i sent you a few lines the other day with the medallion, when i should have written more, but was prevented by the coming in of a _bavard_, who worried me till evening. i bore with him, and now you are to bear with me, for i shall probably _bavarder_ in answering your letter. i am not acquainted with the saying of alphonsus, which you allude to as a sanctification of your rigidity in refusing to allow me the plea of old age as an excuse for my want of exactitude in correspondence. what was that saying?--you do not, it seems, feel any occasion for such an excuse, though you are, as you say, rising , but i am rising (perhaps more properly falling) --and i leave the excuse with you till you arrive at that age; perhaps you may then be more sensible of its validity, and see fit to use it for yourself. i must agree with you, that the gout is bad, and that the stone is worse. i am happy in not having them both together, and i join in your prayer, that you may live till you die without either. but i doubt the author of the epitaph you sent me is a little mistaken, when, speaking of the world, he 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 wished to be thought a wit, or he would not have given himself the trouble of writing so good an epitaph to leave behind him. was it not worthy of his care, that the world should say he was an honest and a good man? i like better the concluding sentiment in the old song, called the old man's wish, wherein, after wishing for a warm house in a country town, an easy horse, some good old authors, ingenious and cheerful companions, pudding on sundays, with stout ale and a bottle of burgundy, &c. &c. in separate stanzas, each ending with this burden, may i govern my passions with absolute sway, and grow wiser and better as strength wears away, without gout or stone by a gentle decay-- he adds for the last stanza, with 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 not left behind him his fellow. for he govern'd his passions, &c. what signifies our wishing? things happen after all as they will happen. i have sung that _wishing song_ a thousand times when i was young, and now find at fourscore, that the three contraries have befallen me, being subject to the gout, and the stone, and not being yet master of all my passions. like the proud girl in my country, who wished and resolved not to marry a parson, nor a presbyterian, nor an irishman, and at 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 employed in new compositions, he has prevented the necessity of creating new matter; for that the earth, water, air, and perhaps fire, which being compounded, 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 inconveniences human _life_ is liable to, i shall not object to a new edition of mine; hoping, however, that the errata of the last may be corrected. i return your note of children received in the foundling hospital at paris, from to inclusive, and i have added the years preceding, as far back as , together with the general christenings of the city; and the years succeeding, down to . those since that period i have not been able to obtain. i have noted in the margin the gradual increase, viz. from every tenth child so thrown upon the public, till it comes to every third. fifteen years have passed since the last account, and probably it may now amount to one half. is it right to encourage this monstrous deficiency of natural affection? a surgeon i met with here excused the women of paris, by saying seriously, that they _could not_ give suck, _car, dit-il, ils n'ont point de tetons_. he assured me it was a fact, and bade me look at them, and observe how flat they were on the breast; they have nothing more there, says he, than i have upon the back of my hand. i have since thought that there might be some truth in his observation, and that possibly nature finding they made no use of bubbies, has left off giving them any. yet since rousseau, with admirable eloquence pleaded for the rights of children to their mother's milk, the mode has changed a little, and some ladies of quality now suckle their infants and find milk enough. may the mode descend to the lower ranks, till it becomes no longer the custom to pack their infants away, as soon as born, to the _enfants trouvés_, with the careless observation, that the king is better able to maintain them. i am credibly informed, that nine-tenths of them die there pretty soon; which is said to be a great relief to the institution, whose funds would not otherwise be sufficient to bring up the remainder. except the few persons of quality above-mentioned, and the multitude who send to the hospital, the practice is to hire nurses in the country, to carry out the children and take care of them there. here is an office for examining the health of nurses and giving them licences. they come to town on certain days of the week in companies to receive the children, and we often meet trains of them on the road returning to the neighbouring villages with each a child in arms. but those who are good enough to try this way of raising their children are often not able to pay the expence, so that the prisons of paris are crouded with wretched fathers and mothers confined _pour mois de nourice_; though it is laudably a favourite charity to pay for them, and set such prisoners at liberty. i wish success to the new project of assisting the poor to keep their children at home, because i think there is no nurse like a mother (or not many) and that if parents did not immediately send their infants out of their sight, they would in a few days begin to love them, and thence be spurred to greater industry for their maintenance. this is a subject you understand better than i, and therefore, having perhaps said too much, i drop it. i only add to the notes a remark from the history of the academy of sciences, much in favour of the foundling institution. the philadelphia bank goes on, as i hear, very well. what you call the cincinnati institution is no institution of our government, but a private convention among the officers of our late army, and so universally disliked by the people, that it is supposed it will be dropped. it was considered as an attempt to establish something like an hereditary rank or nobility. i hold with you that it was wrong; may i add, that all descending honours are wrong and absurd; that the honour of virtuous actions appertains only to him that performs them, and is in its nature incommunicable. if it were communicable by descent, it must also be divisible among the descendants, and the more ancient the family the less would be found existing in any one branch of it; to say nothing of the greater chance of unlucky interruptions. our constitution seems not to be well understood with you. if the congress were a permanent body, there would be more reason in being jealous of giving it powers. but its members are chosen annually, and cannot be chosen more than three years successively, nor more than three years in seven, and any of them may be recalled at any time, whenever their constituents shall be dissatisfied with their conduct. they are of the people, and return again to mix with the people, having no more durable pre-eminence than the different grains of sand in an hour-glass. such an assembly cannot easily become dangerous to liberty. they are the servants of the people, sent together to do the people's business and promote the public welfare; their powers must be sufficient, or their duties cannot be performed. they have no profitable appointments, but a mere payment of daily wages, such as are scarcely equivalent to their expences, so that having no chance for great places and enormous salaries or pensions, as in some countries, there is no briguing or bribing for elections. i wish old england were as happy in its government, but i do not see it. your people, however, think their constitution the best in the world, and affect to despise ours. it is comfortable to have a good opinion of one's self, and of every thing that belongs to us, to think one's own religion, king, and wife, the best of all possible wives, kings, and religions. i remember three greenlanders, who had travelled two years in europe, under the care of some moravian missionaries, and had visited germany, denmark, holland and england, when i asked them at philadelphia (when they were in their way home) whether, now they had seen how much more commodiously the white people lived by the help of the arts, they would not chuse to remain among us--their answer was, that they were pleased with having had an opportunity of seeing many fine things, _but they chose to live in their own country_: which country, by the way, consisted of rock only, for the moravians were obliged to carry earth in their ship from new york, for the purpose of making there a cabbage garden! by mr. dollond's saying, that my double spectacles could only serve particular eyes, i doubt he has not been rightly informed of their construction, i imagine it will be found pretty generally true, that the same convexity of glass through which a man sees clearest and best at the distance proper for reading, is not the best for greater distances. i therefore had formerly two pair of spectacles, which i shifted occasionally, as in travelling i sometimes read and often want to regard the prospects. finding this change troublesome, and not always sufficiently ready, i had the glasses cut out and half of each kind associated in the same circle, the least convex, for distant objects the upper half, and the most convex, for reading, the lower half: by this means, as i wear my spectacles constantly, i have only to move my eyes up or down, as i want to see distinctly far or near, the proper glasses being always ready. this i find more particularly convenient since my being in france; the glasses that serve me best at table to see what i eat, being the best to see the faces of those on the other side of the table who speak to me, and when one's ears are not well accustomed to the sounds of a language, a sight of the movements in the features of him that speaks helps to explain; so that i understand french better by the help of my spectacles. my intended translator of your piece, the only one i know who understands _the subject_ as well as the two languages, which a translator ought to do, or he cannot make so good a translation, is at present occupied in an affair that prevents his undertaking it; but that will soon be over.--i thank you for the notes. i should be glad to have another of the printed pamphlets. we shall always be ready to take your children, if you send them to us; i only wonder, that since london draws to itself and consumes such numbers of your country people, your country should not, to supply their places, want and willingly receive the children you have to dispose of. that circumstance, together with the multitude who voluntarily part with their freedom as men, to serve for a time as lacqueys, or for life as soldiers in consideration of small wages, seems to me a proof that your island is over-peopled, and yet it is afraid of emigrations! adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever, yours, very affectionately, b. franklin. letter iv. _philadelphia, may , ._ i received duly my good old friend's letter of the th of february, with a copy of one from mr. williams, to whom i shall communicate it when i see him, which i expect soon to do. he is generally a punctual correspondent, and i am surprised you have not heard from him. i thank you much for your notes on banks; they are just and solid, as far as i can judge of them. our bank here has met with great opposition, partly from envy, and partly from those who wish an emission of more paper-money, which they think the bank influence prevents. but it has stood all attacks, and went on well notwithstanding the assembly repealed its charter; a new assembly has restored it; and the management is so prudent, that i have no doubt of its continuing to go on well. the dividend has never been less than per cent, nor will that be augmented for some time, as the surplus profit is reserved to face accidents. the dividend of per cent, which was once made, was from a circumstance scarce avoidable. a new company was proposed, and prevented only by admitting a number of new partners. as many of the first set were averse to this, and chose to withdraw; it was necessary to settle their accounts; so all were adjusted, the profits shared that had been accumulated, and the new and old proprietors jointly began on a new and equal footing. their notes are always instantly paid on demand, and pass on all occasions as readily as silver, because they will always produce silver. your medallion is in good company, it is placed with those of lord chatham, lord camden, marquis of rockingham, sir george savil, and some others, who honoured me with a share of friendly regard when in england. i believe i have thanked you for it, but i thank you again. i believe with you, that if our plenipotentiary is desirous of concluding a treaty of commerce, he may need patience. but if i were in his place, and not otherwise instructed, i should be apt to say, take your own time, gentlemen. if the treaty cannot be made as much to your advantage as to ours, don't make it. i am sure the want of it is not more to our disadvantage than to yours. let the merchants on both sides treat with one another. _laissez les faire._ i have never considered attentively the congress scheme for coining, and i have it not now at hand, so that at present i can say nothing to it. the chief uses of coining seem to be ascertaining the fineness of the metals, and saving the time that would otherwise be spent in weighing to ascertain the quantity. but the convenience of fixed values to pieces is so great as to force the currency of some whose stamp is worn off, that should have assured their fineness, and which are evidently not of half their due weight; this is the case at present with the sixpences in england, which one with another do not weigh three-pence. you are now , and i am . you tread fast upon my heels: but, though you have more strength and spirit, you cannot come up with me till i stop; which must now be soon; for i am grown so old as to have buried most of the friends of my youth; and i now often hear persons, whom i knew when children, called _old_ mr. such a one, to distinguish them from their sons now men grown, and in business; so that by living twelve years beyond _david's_ period, i seem to have intruded myself into the company of posterity, when i ought to have been a-bed and asleep. yet had i gone at , it would have cut off of the most active years of my life, employed too in matters of the greatest importance; but whether i have been doing good or mischief, is for time to discover. i only know that i intended well, and i hope all will end well. be so good as to present my affectionate respects to dr. rowley. i am under great obligations to him, and shall write to him shortly. it will be a pleasure to him to hear that my malady does not grow sensibly worse, and that is a great point: for it has always been so tolerable, as not to prevent my enjoying the pleasures of society, and being cheerful in conversation. i owe this in a great measure to his good counsels. adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever, yours, most affectionately, b. franklin. _geo. whatley, esq._ footnote: [ ] these letters did not come into our possession till the preceding sheets and even the subsequent appendix were printed. we are indebted for them to mr. i. t. rutt, the originals of which were put into his hands about twelve years ago by a relation of his, the nephew of the gentleman to whom they were addressed. "mr. whatley, the friend of dr. franklin," mr. rutt informs us, "had engaged in mercantile pursuits, and was for some time a british consul in the mediterranean. during the latter years of his life, he devoted his time to various objects of public utility, for which he was well qualified, and particularly attached himself to the interests of the foundling hospital, of which he was the treasurer. he died in , aged , having survived his correspondent not quite a year." _editor._ appendix, no. ii. containing letters, by several eminent persons, illustrative of dr. franklin's manners and character. _letter from the late dr. price to a gentleman in america._ _hackney, june , ._ dear sir, i am hardly able to tell you how kindly i take the letters with which you favour me. your last, containing an account of the death of our excellent friend, dr. franklin, and the circumstances attending it, deserves my particular gratitude. the account which he has left of his life will show, in a striking example, how a man, by talents, industry, and integrity, may rise from obscurity to the first eminence and consequence in the world; but it brings his history no lower than the year , and i understand, that since he sent over the copy, which i have read, he has been able to make no additions to it. it is with a melancholy regret i think of his death; but to death we are all bound by the irreversible order of nature, and in looking forward to it, there is comfort in being able to reflect--that we have not lived in vain, and that all the useful and virtuous shall meet in a better country beyond the grave. dr. franklin, in the last letter i received from him, after mentioning his age and infirmities, observes, that it has been kindly ordered by the author of nature, that, as we draw nearer the conclusion of life, we are furnished with more helps to wean us from it, among which one of the strongest is the loss of dear friends. i was delighted with the account you gave in your letter of the honour shown to his memory at philadelphia, and by congress; and yesterday i received a high additional pleasure, by being informed, that the national assembly of france had determined to go into mourning for him[ ].--what a glorious scene is opened there! the annals of the world furnish no parallel to it. one of the honours of our departed friend is, that he has contributed much to it. i am, with great respect, your obliged and very humble servant, richard price. footnote: [ ] congress ordered a general mourning throughout the united states for a month: the national assembly of france decreed, that the assembly do wear mourning for three days, that a funeral oration be delivered by m. mirabeau, the elder, and that the president write a letter of condolence to congress: and the common-council of paris paid the extraordinary tribute, of attending in a body at a funeral oration, delivered by the abbe fauchet, in the rotunda of the market-place, which was hung with black, illuminated with chandeliers and rows of lamps, and decorated with suitable devices. _editor._ _letter from mr. thomas jefferson to the late dr. william smith, of philadelphia[ ]._ i feel both the wish and the duty to communicate, in compliance with your request, whatever, within my knowledge, might render justice to the memory of our great countryman, dr. franklin, in whom philosophy has to deplore one of its principal luminaries extinguished. but my opportunities of knowing the interesting facts of his life have not been equal to my desire of making them known. i can only, therefore, testify in general, that there appeared to me more respect and veneration attached to the character of dr. franklin in france, than to that of any other person in the same country, foreign or native. i had opportunities of knowing particularly, how far these sentiments were felt by the foreign ambassadors and ministers at the court of versailles. the fable of his capture by the algerines, propagated by the english newspapers, excited no uneasiness, as it was seen at once to be a dish cooked up to please certain readers; but nothing could exceed the anxiety of his diplomatic brethren on a subsequent report of his death, which, although premature, bore some marks of authenticity. i found the ministers of france equally impressed with his talents and integrity. the count de vergennes, particularly, gave me repeated and unequivocal demonstrations of his entire confidence in him. when he left passy, it seemed as if the village had lost its patriarch. on taking leave of the court, which he did by letter, the king ordered him to be handsomely complimented, and furnished him with a litter and mules of his own, the only kind of conveyance the state of his health could bear. the succession to dr. franklin, at the court of france, was an excellent school of humility to me. on being presented to any one, as the minister of america, the common-place question was, "_c'est vous monsieur, qui remplacez le docteur franklin?_"--is it you, sir, who replace dr. franklin? i generally answered--"no one can replace him, sir; i am only his successor." i could here relate a number of those _bon mots_, with which he was used to charm every society, as having heard many of them; but these are not your object. particulars of greater dignity happened not to occur, during his stay of nine months after my arrival in france. a little before that time, argand had invented his celebrated lamp, in which the flame is spread into a hollow cylinder, and thus brought into contact with the air, within as well as without. dr. franklin had been on the point of the same discovery. the idea had occurred to him; but he had tried a bullrush as a wick, which did not succeed. his occupations did not permit him to repeat and extend his trials to the introduction of a larger column of air, than could pass through the stem of a bullrush. about that time, also, the king of france gave him a signal testimony of respect, by joining him with some of the most illustrious men of the nation to examine that ignis-fatuus of philosophy, the animal magnetism of the maniac, mesmer; the pretended effects of which had astonished all paris. from dr. franklin's hand, in conjunction with his brethren of the learned committee, that compound of fraud and folly was unveiled, and received its death-wound. after this nothing very interesting was before the public, either in philosophy or politics, during his stay; and he was principally occupied in winding up his affairs, and preparing for his return to america. these small offerings to the memory of our great and dear friend (whom time will be making still greater, while it is spunging us from its records) must be accepted by you, sir, in that spirit of love and veneration for him, in which they are made; and not according to their insignificancy in the eyes of a world, which did not want this mite to fill up the measure of his worth. his death was an affliction which was to happen to us at some time or other. we have reason to be thankful he was so long spared; that the most useful life should be the longest also; that it was protracted so far beyond the ordinary span allotted to humanity, as to avail us of his wisdom and virtue, in the establishment of our freedom in the west; and to bless him with a view of its dawn in the east, where men seemed till now to have learned every thing--but _how to be free_. footnote: [ ] extracted from the eulogium on dr. franklin, delivered by dr. w. smith, before the american philosophical society. _editor._ _letter from the late dr. joseph priestley to the editor of the monthly magazine[ ]._ sir, i have just read in the monthly review, vol. , p. , that the late mr. pennant said of dr. franklin, that, "living under the protection of our mild government, he was secretly playing the incendiary, and too successfully inflaming the minds of our fellow subjects in america, till that great explosion happened, which for ever disunited us from our once happy colonies." as it is in my power, as far as my testimony will be regarded, to refute this charge, i think it due to our friendship to do it. it is probable, that no person now living was better acquainted with dr. franklin and his sentiments on all subjects of importance, than myself, for several years before the american war. i think i knew him as well as one man can generally know another. at that time i spent the winters in london, in the family of the marquis of lansdown, and few days passed without my seeing more or less of dr. franklin; and the last day that he passed in england, having given out that he should depart the day before, we spent together, without any interruption, from morning till night. now he was so far from wishing for a rupture with the colonies, that he did more than most men would have done, to prevent it. his constant advice to his countrymen, he always said, was "to bear every thing from england, however unjust;" saying, that "it could not last long, as they would soon outgrow all their hardships." on this account dr. price, who then corresponded with some of the principal persons in america, said, he began to be very unpopular there. he always said, "if there must be a war, it will be a war of ten years, and i shall not live to see the end of it." this i have heard him say many times. it was at his request, enforced by that of dr. fothergil, that i wrote an anonymous pamphlet, calculated to show the injustice and impolicy of a war with the colonies, previous to the meeting of a new parliament. as i then lived at leeds, he corrected the press himself, and, to a passage, in which i lamented the attempt to establish arbitrary power in so large a part of the british empire, he added the following clause, "to the imminent danger of our most valuable commerce, and of that national strength, security, and felicity, which depend on union and on liberty." the unity of the british empire, in all its parts, was a favourite idea of his. he used to compare it to a beautiful china vase, which, if once broken, could never be put together again: and so great an admirer was he at the time of the british constitution, that he said he saw no inconvenience from its being extended over a great part of the globe. with these sentiments he left england; but when, on his arrival in america, he found the war begun, and that there was no receding, no man entered more warmly into the interests of what he then considered as _his country_, in opposition to that of great britain. three of his letters to me, one written immediately on his landing, and published in the collection of his miscellaneous works, p. , , and [ ], will prove this. by many persons, dr. franklin is considered as having been a cold-hearted man, so callous to every feeling of humanity, that the prospect of all the horrors of a civil war could not affect him. this was far from being the case. a great part of the day abovementioned that we spent together, he was looking over a number of american newspapers, directing me what to extract from them for the english ones; and, in reading them, he was frequently not able to proceed for the tears literally running down his cheeks. to strangers he was cold and reserved; but where he was intimate, no man indulged to more pleasantry and good humour. by this he was the delight of a club, to which he alludes in one of the letters above referred to, called the _whig-club_, that met at the london coffee-house, of which dr. price, dr. kippis, mr. john lee, and others of the same stamp, were members. hoping that this vindication of dr. franklin will give pleasure to many of your readers, i shall proceed to relate some particulars relating to his behaviour, when lord loughborough, then mr. wedderburn, pronounced his violent invective against him at the privy-council, on his presenting the complaints of the province of massachusetts (i think it was) against their governor. some of the particulars may be thought amusing. on the morning of the day on which the cause was to be heard, i met mr. burke, in parliament-street, accompanied by dr. douglas, afterwards bishop of carlisle; and after introducing us to each other, as men of letters, he asked me whither i was going? i said i could tell him where i _wished_ to go. he then asking me where that was, i said to the privy-council, but that i was afraid i could not get admission. he then desired me to go along with him. accordingly i did; but when we got into the anti-room, we found it quite filled with persons as desirous of getting admission as ourselves. seeing this, i said, we should never get through the crowd. he said, "give me your arm;" and locking it fast in his, he soon made his way to the door of the privy-council. i then said, mr. burke, you are an excellent leader; he replied, "i wish other persons thought so too." after waiting a short time, the door of the privy-council opened, and we entered the first, when mr. burke took his stand behind the first chair next to the president, and i behind that the next to his. when the business was opened, it was sufficiently evident, from the speech of mr. wedderburn, who was counsel for the governor, that the real object of the court was to insult dr. franklin. all this time he stood in a corner of the room, not far from me, without the least apparent emotion. mr. dunning, who was the leading counsel on the part of the colony, was so hoarse, that he could hardly make himself heard; and mr. lee, who was the second, spoke but feebly in reply; so that mr. wedderburn had a complete triumph. at the sallies of his sarcastic wit, all the members of the council, the president himself (lord gower) not excepted, frequently laughed outright. no person belonging to the council behaved with decent gravity, except lord north, who, coming late, took his stand behind the chair opposite to me. when the business was over, dr. franklin, in going out, took me by the hand, in a manner that indicated some feeling. i soon followed him, and going through the anti-room, saw mr. wedderburn there surrounded with a circle of his friends and admirers. being known to him, he stepped forwards as if to speak to me; but i turned aside, and made what haste i could out of the place. the next morning i breakfasted with the doctor, when he said, "he had never before been so sensible of the power of a good conscience; for that if he had not considered the thing for which he had been so much insulted, as one of the best actions of his life, and what he should certainly do again in the same circumstances, he could not have supported it." he was accused of clandestinely procuring certain letters, containing complaints against the governor, and sending them to america, with a view to excite their animosity against him, and thus to embroil the two countries. but he assured me, that he did not even know that such letters existed, till they were brought to him as agent for the colony, in order to be sent to his constituents; and the cover of the letters on which the direction had been written, being lost, he only guessed at the person to whom they were addressed, by the contents. that dr. franklin, notwithstanding he did not show it at the time, was much impressed by the business of the privy council, appeared from this circumstance: when he attended there, he was dressed in a suit of manchester velvet; and silas dean told me, that, when they met at paris to sign the treaty between france and america, he purposely put on that suit. hoping that this communication will be of some service to the memory of dr. franklin, and gratify his friends, i am, sir, your's, &c. j. priestley. _northumberland, nov. , ._ footnotes: [ ] inserted in the number for february, . _editor._ [ ] answering to page [___] of the present volume. _editor._ finis. james cundee, printer, _ivy lane, paternoster row_. index. a. _accent_, or emphasis, wrong placing of, a fault in modern tunes, ii. . _accidents_ at sea, how to guard against, ii. . _adams_, mr. matthew, offers the use of his library to franklin, i. . _addison_, franklin an assiduous imitator of, in his youth, i. . _advice_ to youth in reading, ii. . to emigrants to america, iii. . to a crafty statesman, . to a young tradesman, . to a young married man, . to players at chess, . _�pinus_, his hypothesis of magnetism, i. . _agriculture_ takes place of manufactures till a country is fully settled, iii. . the great business of america, . _air_, some of the properties of, ii. . its properties with respect to electricity, i. . properties of its particles, . ii. . its currents over the globe, i. . resists the electric fluid and confines it to bodies, . its effects in electrical experiments, . its elasticity not affected by electricity, . its friction against trees, , . has its share of electricity, . its electricity denser above than below, . in rooms, electrified positively and negatively, . attracts water, ii. . when saturated with water precipitates it, . dissolves water, and, when dry, oil, . why suffocating, when impregnated with oil or grease, _ibid._ supports water, , , . why less heated in the higher regions than near the earth's surface, . how it creates hurricanes, _ibid._ winds, . whirlwinds, . effects of heat upon, . its effects on the barometer, . condensed, supposed to form the centre of the earth, , . noxious, corrected by vegetation, . observations on the free use of, . rare, no bad conductor of sound, . fresh, beneficial effects of, in bed-rooms, iii. . _air-thermometer_, electrical, experiments with, i. . _albany_ plan of union, short account of, i. . its singular fate, . papers relating to, iii. . motives on which formed, . rejects partial unions, . its president and grand council, . election of members, . place of first meeting, . new election, _ibid._ proportion of members after three years, . meetings of the grand council and call, . allowance to members, . power of president and his duty, . treaties of peace and war, _ibid._ indian trade and purchases, . new settlements, . military establishments, . laws and taxes, , . issuing of money, . appointment of officers, . rejected in england, . _almanack._ _see poor richard._ _alphabet_, a new one proposed, ii. . examples of writing in it, . correspondence on its merits, . _amber_, electrical experiments on, i. . _america_, north, air of, drier than that of england and france, ii. . why marriages are more frequent there than in europe, . why labour will long continue dear there, _ibid._ argument against the union of the colonies of, under one government, . state of toleration there, . reflections on the scheme of imposing taxes on, without its consent, iii. . thoughts on the representation of, in the british parliament, . interest of great britain with regard to, . forts in the back settlements of, no security against france, . wars carried on there against the french, not merely in the cause of the colonies, . preference of the colonies of, to the west indian colonies, . great navigable rivers of, favourable to inland trade, . what commodities the inland parts of, are fitted to produce, . the productions of, do not interfere with those of britain, . union of the colonies of, in a revolt against britain, impossible but from grievous oppression, . reasons given for restraining paper-bills of credit there, . intended scheme of a bank there, described, . attempts of franklin for conciliation of britain with, . feeling of, as to britain, in may , . conciliation of britain with, hopeless, . account of the first campaign of the british forces against, . application of, to foreign courts, for aid in its independence, . credit of, with that of britain, in , compared, . true description of the interest and policy of, . information to those emigrating thither, . terms on which land may be obtained for new settlements there, . _americans_, their prejudices for whatever is english, i. . _anchor_, a swimming one proposed, ii. , . _ancients_, their experimental learning too often slighted, ii. . _anecdote_ of franklin's early spirit of enterprise, i. . of a swedish clergyman among the indians, iii. . of an indian who went to church, . _animal_ food, franklin's abstinence from, i. . return to, . humorous instance of abstinence from, . heat, whence it arises, ii. , . magnetism, detected and exposed, i. . _animalcules_, supposed to cause the luminous appearance of sea-water, ii. . _animals_, how to kill them by electricity, i. . _antifederalists_ of america, comparison of, to the ancient jews, iii. . _apprentices_ easier placed out in america than in europe, iii. . indentures of, how made in america, . _argumentation_, bad effects of, as a habit, i. . best method of, . _armies_, best means of supporting them, ii. . _armonica_, musical instrument so called, described, ii. . manner of playing on it, . _asbestos_, specimen of, sold by franklin to sir hans sloane, i. . letter relating to it, iii. . _astrology_, letter to the busy-body on, iii. . _atmosphere_ sometimes denser above than below, ii. . electrical, its properties, i. . _aurora borealis_ explained, i. . conjectures respecting, , ii. . query concerning, i. . b. _badoin_, mr. letters from, i. , . _ballads_, two, written by franklin in his youth, i. . _balls_ of fire in the air, remark concerning, ii. . _barometer_, how acted on by air, ii. . _barrels_ for gunpowder, new sort proposed, i. . _bass_, unnecessary in some tunes, ii. . _bathing_ relieves thirst, ii. . observations on, . _battery_, electrical, its construction, i. . _baxter_, mr. observations on his enquiry into the nature of the soul, ii. . _beccaria_, character of his book on electricity, i. . _beer_, not conducive to bodily strength, i. . _bells_, form in consecrating them at paris, i. . _belly-ache_, dry, lead a cause of, ii. . _bermuda_, little thunder there, i. . _bermudian_ sloops, advantages of their construction, ii. . _bernoulli_, mr. his plan for moving boats, ii. . _bevis_, dr. draws electricity from the clouds, i. . _bible_, anecdote of its concealment in the reign of mary, i. . travestied by dr. brown, . _bills_ of mortality, reasonings, formed on those for capital cities, not applicable to the country, ii. . _birth_, noble, no qualification in america, iii. . _bishops_, none in america, and why, ii. , . _black clothes_ heat more and dry sooner than white, ii. . not fit for hot climates, . _blacksmith_, trade of, hereditary in franklin's family, i. . _blindness_ occasioned both by lightning and electricity, i. . _boats_, difference of their sailing in shoal and deep water, ii. . management of, best understood by savages, . how rowed by the chinese, . methods of moving them by machinery, _ibid._ improvement of mr. bernoulli's plan for moving them, . proposal for a new mode of moving them, _ibid._ double, advantage of, , . one built by sir w. petty, _ibid._ _bodies_, electrified negatively, repel each other, ii. . effect of blunt, compared with pointed ones, i. , . _body_, human, specifically lighter than water, ii. . political and human, compared, iii. . _boerhaave_, his opinion of the propagation of heat, ii. . of steam from fermenting liquors, . _boiling_ water, experiments with, i. , , . pot, bottom of, why cold, . _bolton_, mr. experiment by, i. . _books_ read by franklin in his youth, i. , , , . _boston_, the birth-place of franklin, i. . why quitted by him in his youth, , its inhabitants decrease, ii. . preface to proceedings of the town meeting of, iii. . _boyle's_ lectures, effect of, on franklin, i. . _braddock_, general, defeat of, i. . _bradford_, printer at philadelphia, i. , . _brass_, hot, yields unwholesome steams, ii. _brientnal_, joseph, a member of the junto club, i. . _brimstone_, when fluid, will conduct electricity, i. . _bristol waters_, an alledged fact concerning, ii. . _britain_, incapacity of, to supply the colonies with manufactures, ii. . _british empire_, an union of several states, iii. . _brown_, dr. acquaintance of franklin's, i. . travestied the bible, . _bubbles_ on the surface of water, hypothesis respecting, ii. . _buchan_, earl of, letter to, on the price of land for new settlements in america, iii. . _buildings_, what kind safest from lightning, i. . _bullion_, causes of its variation in price, iii. . _bunyan's_ voyages, a book early read by franklin, i. , . _bur_, cause of, round a hole struck through pasteboard, i. . _burnet_, governor, his attention to franklin in his youth, i. . _busy-body_, essays under the title of, i. . iii. . c. _cabinet-work_, veneered in england, shrinks and flies in america, ii. . _cables_, why apt to part when weighing anchor in a swell, ii. . this defect of, remedied, . _cabot_, sebastian, his commission from henry vii., iii. . _calvinism_, franklin educated in the principles of, i. . _campaign_ in america, account of the first, iii. . _canals_, observations on their depth, ii. . _canada_, importance of, to england, i. . visited by franklin, . its extent, iii. . pamphlet on the importance of, . easily peopled without draining britain, . _cancers_, specific for, i. , . _candles_ lighted by electricity, i. . distance at which the flame of, may be seen, ii. . _cann_, silver, a singular experiment on, i. . _canoes_ of the american indians, their advantages, ii. . _canton_, mr. john, experiments by, i. , . draws electricity from the clouds, . _capitals_, their use in printing, ii. . _caribbees_, possession of, only a temporary benefit, iii. . _carolina_, south, see _lightning_. _cavendish_, lord charles, his electrical experiments, i. . _cayenne_ would be a great acquisition to britain, iii. . _centre_ of the earth, hypothesis concerning, ii. , . _cessions_ from an enemy, on what grounds may be demanded, iii. . _chapel_, nickname for a printing house, i. . _character_, remarks on the delineation of, iii. . _charcoal-fires_, hurtful, ii. . _charging_ and discharging, in electricity, explained, i. . a number of bottles at once, how done, _ibid._ _charters_ of the colonies could not be altered by parliament, iii. . _chess_, morals of, iii. . not an idle amusement, _ibid._ teaches various virtues, . advice to those who play, . too intense an application to, injurious, . _chimnies_, different kinds of, enumerated, ii. . inconvenience of the old-fashioned ones, . defect of more modern ones, . have not long been in use in england, . staffordshire, described, . have a draft of air up and down, . may be used for keeping provisions in summer, . may be of use to miners, . funnels to, what the best, , . method of contracting them, . smoky. see _smoky_. _china_, provision made there against famine, ii. . _chinese_ wisely divide the holds of their vessels by partitions, ii. . how they row their boats, . their method of warming ground floors, . improvement in this method suggested, . their method of making large paper, . _circle_, magical, account of, ii. , . _cities_, spring water gradually deteriorates in, i. . do not supply themselves with inhabitants, ii. . _clark_, dr. of boston, quoted, on the instigation of the american indians against the english, iii. , , . _clothes_, wet, may preserve from lightning, i. . will relieve thirst, ii. . do not give colds, _ibid._ imbibe heat according to their colour, . white, most suitable for hot climates, _ibid._ _clothing_ does not give, but preserves, warmth, ii. . _clouds_, at land and at sea, difference between, i. . formed at sea, how brought to rain on land, . driven against mountains, form springs and rivers, . passing different ways, accounted for, . electrical, attracted by trees, spires, &c. . manner in which they become electrised, , . are electrised sometimes negatively and sometimes positively, , , , . electricity drawn from them, at marly, . by mr. cauton, . by dr. bevis, , by mr. wilson, _ibid._ how supported in air, ii. . how formed, . whether winds are generated or can be confined in them, . have little more solidity than fogs, _ibid._ _club_, called the junto, instituted by franklin, i. . rules of, ii. , . questions discussed in, . _coal_, sea, letter on the nature of, ii. . _cold_, why seemingly greater in metals than in wood, ii. , . sensation of, how produced, . only the absence of heat, . produced by chemical mixtures, _ibid._ evaporation. see _evaporation_. _colden_, mr. his remarks on abbé nollet's letters, i. . meteorological observations, ii. . observations on water-spouts, . _colds_, causes of, ii. , . _coleman_, william, a member of the junto club, i. , . _colica pictorum_, caused by lead, ii. . _collins_, john, an early friend of franklin's, i. , , , , . _collinson_, mr. some account of, iii. . _colonial_ governments in america of three kinds, iii. . _colonies_, the settlement of, does not diminish national numbers, ii. . their prosperity beneficial to the mother country, iii. . are intitled to distinct governments, . american, preferable to the west indies, _ibid._ not dangerous to britain, . aids to government, how given by, , . originally governed by the crown, independent of parliament, . not settled at the expence of britain, . _colonists_ in america, double their number in years, iii. . from britain, their rights, . _colours._ see _clothes_. _comazants_, or corposants, are electrical appearances, i. . _commerce_, influence of, on the manners of a people, ii. . is best encouraged by being left free, . should not be prohibited in time of war, . by inland carriage, how supported, iii. . _common-sense_, by paine, franklin supposed to have contributed to, i. . _compass_, instances of its losing its virtue by lightning, i. . how to remedy the want of, at sea, ii. . _conductors_ of lightning, very common in america, i. . first suggestion of the utility of, . construction of, . particulars relating to, . of electricity, difference in the action of, , . which the most perfect, , . and non-conductors, other terms substituted for, _ibid._ of common fire, their properties and differences, ii. , . experiments on, ii. . _congress_, franklin appointed a delegate to, i. . proposed overture from, in , iii. . _consecration_ of bells in france, form of, i. . _conspirators_, electrical, meaning of the term, i. . _controversy_, benefit of, iii. . _conversation_, advantage of useful topics of, at dinner, i. . _cook_, captain, circular letter concerning, iii. . copy of the voyages of, presented to franklin, by the admiralty, . cookery, at sea, generally bad, ii. . _copper_, manner of covering houses with, ii. , , . _copper_ plate printing-press, the first in america, constructed by franklin, i. . _corn_, ill policy of laying restraints on the exportation of, ii. , . _countries_, distant and unprovided, a plan for benefiting, ii. . _creation_, conjectures as to, ii. . _credit_, that of america and britain in , compared, iii. . depends on payment of loans, . industry and frugality, . public spirit, . income and security, . prospects of future ability, _ibid._ prudence, . character for honesty, . is money to a tradesman, . _criminal_ laws, reflections on, ii. . _crooked_ direction of lightning explained, i. . _cutler_, circumstance that prevented franklin's being apprenticed to one, i. . _currents_ at sea, often not perceivable, ii. . _cyder_, the best quencher of thirst, ii. . d. _dalrymple_, mr. scheme of a voyage under his command to benefit remote regions, ii. . _damp_ air, why more chilling than dry air that is colder, ii. , . _dampier_, account of a water-spout by, ii. . references to his voyage, on the subject of water-spouts, . _dampness_ on walls, cause of, ii. . _day-light_, proposal to use it instead of candle-light, iii. . _deacon_, isaac, from an underling to a surveyor, becomes inspector- general of america, i. . prognosticates the future eminence in life of franklin, _ib._ _death_ of franklin, i. . letter from dr. price on, iii. . of relatives, reflections on, . _deism_, effects on franklin of books written against, i. . _deluge_, accounted for, ii. . _denham_, a quaker, a friend of franklin's, i. . extraordinary trait of honesty of, to his creditors, . franklin's engagement with, as a clerk, , . _denmark_, the people of, not subject to colds, ii. . _denny_, governor, remarks on his official conduct in pensylvania, iii. . _desaquiliers_, his experiment on the vapour of hot iron, ii. . _dew_, how produced, i. . _dialogue_, between franklin and the gout, iii. . _dickenson_, mr. his remarks on the views of england in framing laws over the colonies, iii. . remarks on his conduct, . on his protest, . _discontented_ dispositions satirized, iii. . _discontents_ in america before , causes of, iii. . _dissentions_ between england and america, letter on, iii. . _dissertation_, early one of franklin's, that he repented having written, i. . _disputation_, modesty in, recommended, i. . ii. . _disputes_ between franklin and his brother, to whom he was apprenticed, i. . _domien_, a traveller, short account of, i. . _drawling_, a defect in modern tunes, ii. . _dreams_, art of procuring pleasant ones, iii. . _dumas_, monsieur, letter to, on the aid wanted by america in her struggle for independence, iii. . _duna_ river, not to be confounded with the dwina, iii. , note. _dust_, how raised and carried up into the air, ii. . _duties_, moral, the knowledge of, more important than the knowledge of nature, ii. . _dutch_ iron stove, advantages and defects of, ii. . e. _early_ impressions, lasting effect of, on the mind, iii. . _earth_ will dissolve in air, ii. . dry, will not conduct electricity, i. . the, sometimes strikes lightning into the clouds, . grows no hotter under the summer sun, why, ii. . different strata of, . theory of, . _earthquakes_, general good arising from, ii. . how occasioned, , . _eaton_, in northamptonshire, residence of franklin's family, i. . _ebb_ and flood, explanation of the terms, ii. . _economical_ project, iii. . _edinburgh_, an ordinance there against the purchase of prize-goods, ii. . _education_ of women, controversy respecting, i. . _eel_, electrical, of surinam, i. , . _effluvia_ of drugs, &c. will not pass through glass, i. . _electrical_ air-thermometer described, i. , _et seq._ atmosphere, how produced, . how drawn off, . atmospheres repel each other, . repel electric matter in other bodies, _ib._ battery, its construction, . clouds, experiment regarding, . death, the easiest, . experiments, franklin's eager pursuit of, . made in france, . various, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . fire, not created by friction, but collected, . passes through water, . loves water and subsists in it, . diffused through all matter, visible on the surface of the sea, _ibid._ its properties and uses, , _et seq._ produces common fire, , , . has the same crooked direction as lightning, . fluid, its beneficial uses, . is strongly attracted by glass, . manner of its acting through glass hermetically sealed, . a certain quantity of, in all kinds of matter, . nature of its explosion, . chooses the best conductor, , . force, may be unboundedly increased, . horse-race, . jack for roasting, . kiss, its force increased, . kite, described, . machine; simple and portable one, described, . matter, its properties, , . party of pleasure, . phial, or leyden bottle, its phenomena explained, . shock, observations on, . effects of a strong one on the human body, , . spark, perforates a quire of paper, . wheel, its construction, . self-moving one, . _electricity_, summary of its progress, i. . positive and negative, discovered, . distinguished, . in a tourmalin, . does not affect the elasticity of the air, . its similarity to lightning, . its effects on paralysis, . of fogs in ireland, . supposed affinity between, and magnetism, . _electrics per se_ and non-electrics, difference between, i. , . _electrified_ bumpers described, i. . _electrisation_, what constitutes the state of, i. . various appearances of, . variety of, . _electrising_ one's self, manner of, i. . _elocution_, how best taught, ii. . _embassador_ from the united states to france, franklin appointed to the office of, i. . _emblematical_ design illustrative of the american troubles, iii. . _emigrants_ to america, advice to, iii. . _empire_, rules for reducing a great one, iii. . _england_, franklin's first arrival in, i. . second arrival in, as agent for the province of pensylvania, . third arrival in, as agent for the same province, . its air moister than that of america, ii. . decrease of population in, doubtful, . _english_, effect of the ancient manners of, ii. . language, innovations in, . _enterprises_, public, franklin's early disposition for, i. . _ephemera_, an emblem of human life, iii. . _epitaph_ on franklin's parents, i. . on himself, . _episcopalians_, conduct of the american legislature towards, ii. . _errors_ of franklin's early life, i. , , , , . _ether_, what, ii. . _evaporation_, cold produced by, i. , ii. , , . of rivers, effects of, . _examination_ of franklin before the house of commons, i. , iii. . before the privy council, . further particulars of, . _exchange_, rate of, between philadelphia and britain, iii. . _exercise_, should precede meals, iii. . _experiments_, to show the electrical effect of points, i. , . to prove the electrical state of the leyden phial, . of firing spirits by a spark sent through a river, . to show how thunder-storms produce rain, . on the clouds, proposed, . on drugs electrified, . on the elasticity of the air, . on the electric fluid, . by mr. kennersley, . on the electricity of the clouds, . for increasing electricity, . by mr. canton, . in pursuance of those of mr. canton, . on a silver cann, . on the velocity of the electric fluid, , , . for producing cold by evaporation, . on the different effects of electricity, . by lord charles cavendish, . on the tourmalin, . to show the utility of long pointed rods to houses, . on amber, _et seq._ on the leyden phial, . on different coloured cloths, ii. , . on the sailing of boats, . _exportation_ of gold and silver, observations on, ii. . _exports_ to north america and the west indies, iii. , . to pensylvania, , . from ditto, . _eye_, retains the images of luminous objects, ii. . f. _facts_, should be ascertained before we attempt to account for them, ii. . _family_ of franklin, account of, i. . _et seq._ _famine_, how provided against in china, ii. . _fanning_, how it cools, ii. . _farmers_, remonstrance in behalf of, ii. . _federal_ constitution, speech on, iii. . _felons_, transportation of, to america, highly disagreeable to the inhabitants, iii. . _fermenting_ liquors, their steam deleterious, ii. . fire, not destroyed by water, but dispersed, i. . makes air specifically lighter, . exists in all bodies, . common and electrical, exist together, _ibid._ a region of, above our atmosphere, , ii. . many ways of kindling it, i. . exists in a solid or quiescent state in substances, _ibid._ ii. , . recovers its fluidity by combustion, _ibid._ is a fluid permeating all bodies, . conductors of, are also best conductors of the electric fluid, _ibid._ difference between, and electrical conductors, . how diffused through substances, . how generated in animated bodies, . theory of, . a fixed and permanent quantity of, in the universe, . its properties, . electrical, see _electrical_. _fire-companies_, numerous at philadelphia, i. . _fire-places_, pensylvanian, account of, ii. . large and open, inconvenient, . hollow backed, by gauger, . staffordshire, . an ingenious one for serving two rooms, . _fires_, at sea, how often produced, ii. . great and bright, damage the eyes and skin, . _fisheries_, value of those of newfoundland, iii. . _flame_, preserves bodies from being consumed while surrounding them, ii. , . _flaxseed_, amount of the exportation of from america to ireland, iii. . _flesh_, of animals, made tender by lightning and by electricity, i. , . _flies_, drowned in america, brought to life in england, ii. . _flood_ and ebb, explanation of the terms, ii. . _florence_ flask, when filled with boiling water, not chargeable with electricity, i. , . _fog_, great, in , ii. . conjectures as to its cause, _ibid._ _fogs_, how supported in air, ii. . electricity of, in ireland, i. . _folger_, family-name of franklin's mother, i. . _foreigners_, the importation of, not necessary to fill up occasional vacancies in population, ii. . _forts_ in the back settlements, not approved of, iii. . _foster_, judge, notes on his argument for the impress of seamen, ii. . _foundering_ at sea, accidents that occasion it, ii. , . _fountain_, when electrified, its stream separates, i. . _fowls_, improperly treated at sea, ii. . _fragments_, political, ii. . _france_, its air moister than that of america, ii. . effects of its military manners, . _franklin_, derivation of the name, i. . genealogy of the family of, . _franks_, the improper use of, reprobated, ii. . _freezing_ to death in summer, possibility of, ii. . _french_ language, its general use, ii. . _frontiers_, in america, the attack of, the common cause of the state, iii. . _frugality_, advantages of, ii. . observance of, in america, iii. _fruit-walls_, blacking them recommended, ii. . _fuel_, scarce in philadelphia, ii. . _fulling-mills_ in america, iii. . _fusion_, cold, of metals, supposed, i. . proves a mistake, . error respecting it acknowledged, . g. _galloway_, mr, preface to his speech, iii. . _garnish-money_, practice among printers of demanding it, i. . _gauger_, m. his invention for fire-places, ii. . _genealogy_ of the franklin family, i. . _german_ stoves, advantages and disadvantages of, ii. . _germany_, why the several states of, encourage foreign manufactures in preference to those of each other, iii. . note. _gilding_, its properties as a conductor, i. . the effects of lightning and of electricity on, . fails as a conductor after a few shocks, . _glass_, has always the same quantity of electrical fire, i. . possesses the whole power of giving a shock, , . in panes, when first used in an electrical experiment, , . great force in small portions of, . impermeable to the electric fluid, , . strongly attracts the electric fluid, . cannot be electrified negatively, _ibid._ its opposite surfaces, how affected, _ibid._ its component parts and pores extremely fine, . manner of its operation in producing electricity, _ibid._ its elasticity, to what owing, . thick, resists a change of the quantity of electricity of its different sides, . rod of, will not conduct a shock, _ibid._ when fluid, or red hot, will conduct electricity, . difference in its qualities, . error as to its pores, . will admit the electric fluid, when moderately heated, , . when cold retains the electric fluid, . experiments on warm and cold, . singular tube and ball of, . _glasses_, musical, described, ii. , _et seq._ _god_, saying in america respecting, iii. . _godfrey_, thomas, a lodger with franklin, i. . a member of the junto, . inventor of hadley's quadrant, _ibid._ wishes franklin to marry a relation of his, . _gold_ and silver, remarks on exportation of, ii. . _golden_ fish, an electrical device, i. . _government_, free, only destroyed by corruption of manners, ii. . _gout_, dialogue with that disease, iii. . _grace_, robert, member of the junto club, i. , . _gratitude_ of america, letter on, iii. . _greasing_ the bottoms of ships, gives them more swiftness, ii. . _greece_, causes of its superiority over persia, ii. . _greek_ empire, the destruction of, dispersed manufacturers over europe, iii. . _green_ and red, relation between the colours of, ii. . _greenlanders_, their boats best for rowing, ii. . _guadaloupe_, its value to britain over-rated, iii. . _gulph-stream_, observations on, ii. . whalers frequent its edges, _ibid._ long unknown to any but the american fishermen, _ibid._ how generated, . its properties, _ibid._ tornadoes and water-spouts attending it, accounted for, . how to avoid it, . nantucket whalers best acquainted with it, . thermometrical observations on, . journal of a voyage across, _ibid._ _gunpowder_, fired by electricity, i. . magazines of, how to secure them from lightning, . proposal for keeping it dry, . h. _habits_, effects of, on population, ii. . . _hadley's_ quadrant, by whom invented, i. , . _hail_, brings down electrical fire, i. . how formed, ii. . _hamilton_, mr. a friend of franklin's, i. , . _handel_, criticism on one of his compositions, ii. . _harmony_, in music, what, ii. . _harp_, effect of, on the ancient scotch tunes, ii. . _harry_, david, companion of franklin's, i. , . _hats_, summer, should be white, ii. . the manufacture of, in new england, in , iii. . _health_ of seamen, captain cook's method of preserving it recommended, ii. . _heat_, produced by electricity and by lightning, i. , . better conducted by some substances than others, ii. , . how propagated, . the pain it occasions, how produced, . in animals, how generated, , . in fermentation, the same as that of the human body, . great, at philadelphia, in , . general theory of, . _herrings_, shoals of, perceived by the smoothness of the sea, ii. . _hints_ to those that would be rich, iii. . _holmes_, robert, brother-in-law to franklin, i. , . _honesty_, often a very partial principle of conduct, ii. . _honours_, all descending ones absurd, iii. . _hopkins_, governor, his report of the number of inhabitants in rhode island, iii. . _horse-race_, electrical, i. . _hospital_, one founded by the exertions of franklin, i. . _hospitals_, foundling, state of in england and france, iii. *, *. _hospitality_, a virtue of barbarians, iii. . _houses_, remarks on covering them with copper, ii. , . many in russia covered with iron plates, . their construction in paris renders them little liable to fires, . _howe_, lord, letter from, to franklin, iii. . franklin's answer to, . _hudson's_ river, winds there, ii. , . _hunters_, require much land to subsist on, ii. . _hurricanes_, how produced, ii. . why cold in hot climates, _ibid._ _hutchinson_, governor, cause of the application for his removal, iii. . account of the letters of, , . _hygrometer_, best substances for forming one, ii. . mahogany recommended for forming one, . i. j. _jackson_, mr. remarks on population by, ii. . _jamaica_, its vacant lands not easily made sugar lands, iii. . _javelle_, his machinery for moving boats, ii. . _ice_ will not conduct an electric shock, i. . _ice-islands_, dangerous to shipping, ii. . _idleness_, the heaviest tax on mankind, ii. , iii. . encouraged by charity, ii. . reflections on, iii. . _jefferson_, mr. letter from, on the character of franklin, iii. . _jesuits_, hostility of the indians in america excited by, iii. . _ignorance_, a frank acknowledgment of, commendable, i. . _imports_ into pensylvania from britain before , iii. . _impress_ of seamen, notes on judge foster's argument in favour of, ii. . _inarticulation_ in modern singing, censured, ii. . _increase_ of mankind, observations on, ii. , and _seq._ what prevented by, , . how promoted, , . further observations on, . _indemnification_, just ground for requiring cessions from an enemy, iii. . _independence_, soon acquired in america, iii. . _indian trade_ and affairs, remarks on a plan for the future management of, iii. . spirituous liquors the great encouragement of, . the debts from, must be left to honour, . not an american but a british interest, . _indians_, of north america, a number of, murdered, i. . often excited by the french against the english, iii. . list of fighting men in the different nations of, . difference of their warfare from that of europeans, . remarks concerning, . their mode of life, . public councils, . politeness in conversation, . rules in visiting, . _industry_, effects of franklin's, i. . the cause of plenty, ii. . essential to the welfare of a people, . relaxed by cheapness of provisions, . a greater portion of, in every nation, than of idleness, , , iii. . its prevalence in america, iii. . _inflammability_ of the surface of rivers, ii. . _inland_ commerce, instances of, iii. . _innovations_ in language and printing, ii. . _inoculation_, letter on the deaths occasioned by, ii. . success of, in philadelphia, , . _insects_, utility of the study of, ii. . _interrogation_, the mark of, how to be placed, ii. . _invention_, the faculty of, its inconveniences, i. . _inventions_, new, generally scouted, _ibid._ _journal_ of a voyage, crossing the gulph-stream, ii. . from philadelphia to france, , . from the channel to america, , _et seq._ _iron_ contained in the globe, renders it a great magnet, ii. . query whether it existed at the creation, . hot, gives no bad smell, . yields no bad vapours, . rods, erected for experiments on the clouds, i. . conduct more lightning in proportion to their thickness, . _islands_ far from a continent have little thunder, i. . _italic_ types, use of, in printing, ii. . _judges_, mode of their appointment in america, in , iii. . _junto._ see _club_. k. _keimer_, a connection of franklin's, some account of, i. , , . _keith_, sir william, franklin patronized by, i. . deceived by, . character of, . _kinnersley_, mr. electrical experiments by, i. , _et seq._, . _kiss_, electrical, i. . _kite_ used to draw electricity from the clouds, i. . electrical, described, i. . _knobs_, not so proper as points, for conducting lightning, i. . l. _labour_, why it will long continue dear in america, ii. . its advantages, , . _land_, terms on which it may be obtained in america, by settlers, iii. . _landing_ in a surf, supposed practicable, how, ii. . tried without success, . _language_, remarks on innovations in, ii. , _et seq._ _laughers_, satyrized, iii. . _law_, the old courts of, in the colonies, as ample in their powers, as those in england, iii. . _law-expenses_, no discouragement to law-suits, iii. . _law-stamps_, a tax on the poor, iii. . _lead_, effects of, on the human constitution, ii. . _leaks_ in ships, why water enters by them most rapidly at first, ii. . means to prevent their being fatal, . _leather_ globe, proposed, instead of glass, for electrical experiments, i. . _left_ hand, a petition from, iii. . _leg_, handsome and deformed, humourous anecdote of, iii. . _legal_ tender of paper-money, its advantages, iii. . further remarks on, . _lending_ money, new mode of, iii. . _letter-founding_ effected by franklin in america, i. . _leutmann_, j. g. extract from his vulcanus famulans, ii. . _leyden_ bottle, its phenomena explained, i. . analysed, . experiment to prove its qualities, . when sealed hermetically, retains long its electricity, . _liberty_ of the press, observations on, ii. . abused, . of the cudgel, should be allowed in return, . _libraries_, public, the first in america set on foot by franklin, i. . are now numerous in america, . advantages of, to liberty, . _life_ and death, observations on the doctrines of, ii. . _light_, difference between that from the sun and that from a fire in electrical experiments, i. . difficulties in the doctrines of, i. . queries concerning, _ibid._ visibility of its infinitely small particles computed, ii. . new theory of, . _lighthouse-tragedy_, an early poem of franklin's, i. . _lightning_, represented by electricity, i. . drawn from the clouds, by a kite, . by an iron rod, _ibid._ reasons for proposing the experiment on, . its effects at newbury, . will leave other substances, to pass through metals, . communicates magnetism to iron, . objections to the hypothesis of its being collected from the sea, , . effects of, on a wire at new york, . on mr. west's pointed rod, , _et seq._ how it shivers trees, . effects of, on conductors in carolina, , , . does not enter through openings, . should be distinguished from its light, . an explosion always accompanies it, _ibid._ observations on its effects on st. bride's church, , . how to preserve buildings from, . personal danger from, how best avoided, . brought down by a pointed rod, in a large quantity, . how to prevent a stroke of, at sea, ii. . _linnæus_, instance of public benefit arising from his knowledge of insects, ii. . _london_, atmosphere of, moister than that of the country, ii. . _loyalty_ of america before the troubles, iii. . _luxury_, beneficial when not too common, ii. . definition of, , . extinguishes families, . not to be extirpated by laws, . further observations on, . _lying-to_, the only mode yet used for stopping a vessel at sea, ii. . m. _maddeson_, mr. death of, lamented, iii. *. _magazine_ of powder, how to secure it from lightning, i. . _magical_ circle of circles, ii. . picture, i. . square of squares, ii. . _magnetism_, animal, detected and exposed, i. . given by electricity, , . and electricity, affinity between, . supposed to exist in all space, ii. , . conjectures as to its effects on the globe, . enquiry how it first came to exist, . _mahogany_, expands and shrinks, according to climate, ii. . recommended for an hygrometer, . _mandeville_, franklin's acquaintance with, i. . _manners_, effects of, on population, ii. , _et seq._ letter to the busy-body on the want of, iii. . _manufactures_, produce greater proportionate returns than raw materials, ii. . founded in the want of land for the poor, iii. . are with difficulty transplanted from one country to another, . hardly ever lost but by foreign conquest, . probability of their establishment in america, . want no encouragement from the government, if a country be ripe for them, . _maritime_ observations, ii. . _marly_, experiments made at, for drawing lightning from the clouds, i. . _marriage_ of franklin, i. . _marriages_, where the greatest number take place, ii. . why frequent and early in america, . iii. , . early, letter on, iii. . _maryland_, account of a whirlwind there, ii. . of paper bills formerly issued there, iii. . its conduct in a french war, previous to the american troubles, defended, . _massachusets_ bay, petition of the inhabitants of, to the king, iii. . _matter_, enquiry into the supposed vis inertiæ of, ii. . man can neither create nor annihilate it, . _mawgridge_, william, member of the junto club, i. . _maxims_, prudential, from poor richard's almanack, iii. . _mazeas_, abbe, letter from, i. . _meal_, grain, &c. manner of preserving them good for ages, i. . ii. . _mechanics_, advantages of an early attention to, i. . _mediocrity_, prevalence of, in america, iii. . _melody_ in music, what, ii. . _men_, six, struck down by an electric shock, i. . _mercer_, dr. letter from, on a water-spout, ii. . _merchants_ and shopkeepers in america, iii. . _meredith_, hugh, companion of franklin, short account of, i. , , . _metalline_ rods, secure buildings from lightning, i. . either prevent or conduct a stroke, . _metals_, melted by electricity and by lightning, i. , . when melted by electricity, stain glass, . polished, spotted by electrical sparks, . feel colder than wood, why, ii. . _meteorological_ observations, ii. , , . _methusalem_ slept always in the open air, iii. . _mickle_, samuel, a prognosticator of evil, i. . _military_ manners, effects of, ii. , . power of the king, remarks on, iii. . _militia_ bill, franklin the author of one, i. . particular one, rejected by the governor of pensylvania, . iii. . _mines_, method of changing air in them, ii. . of rock salt, conjectures as to their formation, . _mists_, how supported in air, ii. . _modesty_ in disputation recommended, ii. . _money_, how to make it plenty, iii. . new mode of lending, . _moral_ principles, state of franklin's mind respecting, on his entering into business, i. . _morals_ of chess, iii. . _motion_, the communication and effects of, ii. , . of vessels at sea, how to be stopped, . _mountains_, use of, in producing rain and rivers, i. . why the summits of, are cold, ii. . conjecture how they became so high, . _music_, harmony and melody of the old scotish, ii. . modern, defects of, . _musical_ glasses described, ii. . n. _nantucket_ whalers best acquainted with the gulph-stream, ii. . _national_ wealth, data for reasoning on, ii. . three ways of acquiring, . _navigation_, difference of, in shoal and deep water, ii. . observations on, , . from newfoundland to new york, . inland, in america, iii. . _needle_ of a compass, its polarity reversed by lightning, i. , . of wood, circular motion of, by electricity, , . _needles_, magnetised by electricity, i. . and pins, melted by electricity, . _negatively_ electrised bodies repel each other, i. . _negroes_ bear heat better, and cold worse, than whites, ii. . _newbury_, effects of a stroke of lightning there, i. . _new-england_, former flourishing state of, from the issue of paper money, iii. . circumstances which rendered the restriction of paper money there not injurious, . abolition of paper currency there, . _newfoundland_ fisheries, more valuable than the mines of peru, iii. . _newspaper_, one sufficient for all america, in , i. . instance of one set up by franklin at philadelphia, . _new-york_, effects of lightning there, i. . former flourishing state of, from the issue of paper-money, iii. . sentiments of the colonists on the act for abolishing the legislature of, . obtained in exchange for surinam, . _nollet_, abbé, franklin's theory of electricity opposed by, i. . remarks on his letters, . _non-conductors_ of electricity, i. . _non-electric_, its property in receiving or giving electrical fire, i. . _north-east_ storms in america, account of, ii. . _nurses_, office at paris for examining the health of, iii. *. o. _oak_ best for flooring and stair-cases, ii. . _ohio_, distance of its fort from the sea, iii. , note. _oil_, effect of heat on, ii. . evaporates only in dry air, _ibid._ renders air unfit to take up water, _ibid._ curious instance of its effects on water in a lamp, . stilling of waves by means of, , , , , , . _old_ man's wish, song so called quoted, iii. *. _onslow_, arthur, dedication of a work to, by franklin, iii. . _opinions_, vulgar ones too much slighted, ii. . regard to established ones, thought wisdom in a government, iii. . _orthography_, a new mode of, ii. . _osborne_, a friend of franklin's, i. , _oversetting_ at sea, how it occurs, ii. . how to be prevented, _ibid._, . _outriggers_ to boats, advantages of, ii. . p. _packthread_, though wet, not a good conductor, i. . _paine's_ common sense, franklin supposed to have contributed to, i. . _paper_, how to make large sheets, in the chinese way, ii. . a poem, iii. . _paper-credit_, cannot be circumscribed by law, ii. . _paper-money_, pamphlet written by franklin on, i. . american, remarks and facts relative to, iii. . advantages of, over gold and silver, iii. . _papers_ on philosophical subjects, i. , _et seq._ ii. , _et seq._ on general politics, ii. , _et seq._ on american subjects, before the revolution, iii. , _et seq._ during the revolution, iii. , _et seq._ subsequent to the revolution, iii. , _et seq._ on moral subjects, iii. , _et seq._ _parable_ against persecution, ii. . _paradoxes_ inferred from some experiments, i. . _paralysis_, effects of electricity on, i. . _parliament_ of england, opinions in america, in , concerning, iii. . _parsons_, william, member of the junto club, i. . _parties_, their use in republics, iii. . _party_ of pleasure, electrical, i. . _passages_ to and from america, how to be shortened, ii. . why shorter from, than to, america, . _passengers_ by sea, instructions to, ii. . _patriotism_, spirit of, catching, iii. . _peace_, the victorious party may insist on adequate securities in the terms of, iii. . _penn_, governor, remarks on his administration, iii. . sold his legislative right in pensylvania, but did not complete the bargain, . _pensylvania_, franklin appointed clerk to the general assembly of, i. . forms a plan of association for the defence of, . becomes a member of the general assembly of, . aggrievances of, iii. . infraction of its charter, . review of the constitution of, . former flourishing state of, from the issue of paper-money, . rate of exchange there, . letter on the militia bill of, . settled by english and germans, . english and german, its provincial languages, _ib._ pecuniary bargains between the governors and assembly of, . taxes there, , . number of its inhabitants, . proportion of quakers, and of germans, _ibid._ exports and imports, . assembly of, in , how composed, . _pensylvanian_ fire-places, account of, ii. . particularly described, . effects of, . manner of using them, . advantages of, . objections to, answered, . directions to bricklayers respecting, . _peopling_ of countries, observations on, ii. , _et seq._ _perkins_, dr. letter from, on water-spouts, ii. . on shooting stars, . _persecution_, parable against, ii. . of dissenters, letter on, . of quakers in new england, . _perspirable_ matter, pernicious, if retained, ii. . _perspiration_, necessary to be kept up, in hot climates, ii. . difference of, in persons when naked and clothed, . _petition_ from the colonists of massachusets bay, iii. . of the left hand, . _petty_, sir william, a double vessel built by, ii. . _philadelphia_, franklin's first arrival at, i. . account of a seminary there, instituted by franklin, to . state of the public bank at, iii. *. _phytolacca_, or poke weed, a specific for cancers, i. . _picture_, magical, described, i. . _plain_ truth, franklin's first political pamphlet, iii. . _plan_ for benefiting distant countries, ii. . for settling two western colonies, iii. . for the management of indian affairs, remarks on, . for improving the condition of the free blacks, . _planking_ of ships, improvement in, ii. . _pleurisy_, franklin attacked by, i. , . _plus_ and minus electricity, in the leyden bottle, i. . in other bodies, . _pointed_ rods, secure buildings from lightning, i. , . experiments and observations on, . objections to, answered, , . _points_, their effects, i. . property of, explained, . experiment showing the effect of, on the clouds, . mistake respecting, . _poke-weed_, a cure for cancers, i. , . _polarity_ given to needles by electricity, i. . _poles_ of the earth, if changed, would produce a deluge, ii. . _political_ fragments, ii. . _polypus_, a nation compared to, ii. . _poor_, remarks on the management of, ii. . the better provided for, the more idle, . _poor_ richard, maxims of, iii. . _pope_, criticism on two of his lines, i. . _population_, observations on, ii. . causes which diminish it, . occasional vacancies in, soon filled by natural generation, . rate of its increase in america, . iii. , , . why it increases faster there, than in england, iii. . _positions_ concerning national wealth, ii. . _positiveness_, impropriety of, ii. . _postage_, not a tax, but payment for a service, iii. . state of, in america, in , . _post-master_, and deputy post-master general, franklin appointed to the offices of, i. , . _potts_, stephen, a companion of franklin's, i. , . _poultry_, not good at sea, ii. . _powder-magazines_, how secured from lightning, i. . _power_ to move a heavy body, how to be augmented, ii. . _pownall_, governor, memorial of, to the duke of cumberland, iii. . letter from, on an equal communication of rights to america, . constitution of the colonies by, . _preface_ to mr. galloway's speech, iii. . to proceedings of the inhabitants of boston, . _presbyterianism_, established religion in new england, ii. . _press_, account of the court of, ii. . liberty of, abused, . _pressing_ of seamen, animadversions on, ii. . _price_, dr. letter from, on franklin's death, iii. . _priestley_, dr. letter from, on franklin's character, iii. . _printers_ at philadelphia before franklin, i. . _printing_, franklin apprenticed to the business of, i. . works at it as a journeymen in england, , . in america, , . enters on the business of, as master, . observations on fashions in, ii. . _prison_, society for relieving the misery of, i. . not known among the indians of america, iii. . _privateering_, reprobated, ii. . further observations on, . article to prevent it, recommended in national treaties, . inserted in a treaty between america and prussia, . _proas_, of the pacific ocean, safety of, ii. . flying, superior to any of our sailing boats, . _produce_ of the inland parts of america, iii. . _products_ of america, do not interfere with those of britain, iii. . _prose-writing_, method of acquiring excellence in, i. . _protest_ against franklin's appointment as colonial agent, remarks on, iii. . _provisions_, cheapness of, encourages idleness, ii. . _prussian_ edict, assuming claims over britain, iii. . _public_ services and functions of franklin, i. . spirit, manifest in england, iii. . different opinion respecting it expressed, . _punctuality_ of america in the payment of public debts, iii. . _puckridge_, mr. inventor of musical glasses, i. . q. _quaker-lady_, good advice of one to franklin in his youth, i. . _quakers_, persecution of, in new england, ii. . proportion of, in pensylvania, iii. . _quebec_, remarks on the enlargement of the province of, iii. , note. _queries_ concerning light, i. . proposed at the junto club, ii. . from mr. strahan, on the american disputes, iii. . _questions_ discussed by the junto club, ii. . r. _rain_, how produced, i. . generally brings down electricity, . why never salt, ii. . different quantities of, falling at different heights, . _ralph_, james, a friend of franklin's, i. , , , , . _rarefaction_ of the air, why greater in the upper regions, ii. . _read_, maiden name of franklin's wife, i. , , , , , , . _reading_, franklin's early passion for, i. , . how best taught, ii. . advice to youth respecting, . _recluse_, a roman catholic one, in london, i. . _red_ and green, relation between the colours of, ii. . _regimen_, sudden alterations of, not prejudicial, i. . _religious_ sect, new one, intended establishment of, i. . _repellency_, electrical, how destroyed, i. . _representation_, american, in the british parliament, thoughts on, iii. , . _repulsion_, electrical, the doctrine of, doubted, i. . considerations in support of, . _revelation_, doubted by franklin in his youth, i. . _rhode-island_, purchased for a pair of spectacles, iii. . its population at three periods, iii. . _rich_, hints to those that would be, iii. . _ridicule_, delight of the prince of condé in, iii. . _rivers_, from the andes, how formed, i. . motion of the tides in, explained, ii. , . do not run into the sea, . evaporate before they reach the sea, . inflammability of the surface of, . _rods_, utility of long pointed ones, to secure buildings from lightning, i. . see farther. _iron._ _lightning._ _metalline._ _rome_, causes of its decline enquired into, ii. . political government of its provinces, iii. . _rooms_, warm, advantages of, ii. . do not give colds, ibid. _roots_, edible, might be dried and preserved for sea-store, ii. . _rosin_, when fluid, will conduct electricity, i. . _rousseau_, his opinion of tunes in parts, ii. . _rowing_ of boats, chinese method of, ii. . _rowley_, dr. franklin's obligations to, iii. *. s. _sailing_, observations on, ii. . _sails_, proposed improvements in, ii. , . _saint_ bride's church, stroke of lightning on, i. . _salt_, dry, will not conduct electricity, i. . rock, conjectures as to its origin, ii. . _saltness_ of the sea-water considered, _ib._ _savage_, john, a companion of franklin's, i. . _savages_ of north america, remarks on, iii. , _et seq._ _school_, sketch of one, for philadelphia, ii. . _scotch_ tunes, harmony of, and melody, ii. . _screaming_, a defect in modern tunes, ii. . _scull_, nicholas, member of the junto club, i. . _sea_, electrical qualities of its component parts, i. . opinion, that it is the source of lightning, considered, , , . supposed cause of its luminous appearance, ii. . from what cause, salt, . has formerly covered the mountains, _ib._ _sea-coal_, has a vegetable origin, ii. . prejudices against the use of, at paris, . _sea-water_, soon loses its luminous quality, i. . considerations on the distillation of, ii. . how to quench thirst with, . thermometrical observation on, , _et seq._ _security_, a just ground to demand cessions from an enemy, iii. . _separation_ of the colonies from britain, probability of, in , iii. . _servants_ in england, the most barren parts of the people, ii. . _settlements_, new, in america, letter concerning, iii. . _settlers_ of british colonies, their rights, iii. . _sheep_, a whole flock killed by lightning, i. . _ships_, abandoned at sea, often saved, ii. . may be nicely balanced, . accidents to, at sea, how guarded against, . _shirley_, governor, letters to, on the taxation of the colonies, iii. . on american representation in the british parliament, . _shooting-stars_, letter on, ii. . _shop-keepers_ in america, iii. . _sides_ of vessels, the best construction of, ii. . _silver_ cann, experiment with, i. . vessels, not so easily handled as glass, when filled with hot liquors, ii. . _slavery_, society for the abolition of, i. . address to the public on the abolition of, iii. . _slaves_, not profitable labourers, ii. . diminish population, ii. . _slave-trade_, sentiment of a french moralist respecting, ii. . parody on the arguments in favour of, . _sliding-plates_ for smoky chimnies described, ii. . _slitting-mills_ in america, iii. . _small_, mr. alexander, letter from, i. . _smell_ of electricity, how produced, i. . _smoke_, principle by which it ascends, ii. . stove that consumes it, . the burning of, useful in hot-houses, . _smoky_ chimnies, observation on the causes and cure of, ii. . remedy for, if by want of air, , . if by too large openings in the room, , . if by too short a funnel, . if by overpowering each other, , . if by being overtopped, , . if by improper situation of a door, . if by smoke drawn down their funnels, , . if by strong winds, , . difficult sometimes to discover the cause of, . _smuggling_, reflections on, ii. . encouragement of, not honest, . _snow_, singular instance of its giving electricity, i. . _soap-boiler_, part of franklin's early life devoted to the business of, i. , . _societies_, of which franklin was president, i. . learned, of which he was a member, . _socrates_, his mode of disputation, i. . _songs_, ancient, give more pleasure than modern, ii. . modern, composed of all the defects of speech, . _soul_, argument against the annihilation of, iii. *. _sound_, best mediums for conveying, ii. . observations on, . queries concerning, . _sounds_ just past, we have a perfect idea of their pitch, ii. . _soup-dishes_ at sea, how to be made more convenient, ii. . _spain_, what has thinned its population, ii. . _specific_ weight, what, ii. . _spectacles_, double, advantages of, iii. *, *. _speech_, at algiers, on slavery and piracy, ii. . of mr. galloway, preface to, iii. . last of franklin, on the federal constitution, . _spelling_, a new mode of, recommended, ii. . _spheres_, electric, commodious ones, i. . _spider_, artificial, described, i. . _spirits_, fired without heating, i. , . linen wetted with, cooling in inflammations, ii. . should always be taken to sea in bottles, . _spots_ in the sun, how formed, i. . _squares_, magical square of, ii. . _staffordshire_ chimney, description of, ii. . _stamp-act_ in america stigmatized, iii. . letter on the repeal of, iii. . examination of franklin on, . _stars._ see _shooting_. _state_, internal, of america, iii. . _storms_, causes of, ii. . _stove_, dutch, its advantages and defects, ii. . german, ditto, . to draw downwards, by j. g. leutmann, . for burning pit-coal and consuming its smoke, , , . _strata_ of the earth, letter on, ii. . _strahan_, mr. queries by, on american politics, iii. . answer to the queries, . letter to, disclaiming his friendship, iii. . _stuber_, dr. continuator of franklin's life, i. . _studies_ of trifles, should be moderate, ii. . _stuttering_, one of the affected beauties of modern tunes, ii. . _sugar_, cruelties exercised in producing it, ii. . _sulphur_ globe, its electricity different from that of the glass globe, i. . _sun_, supplies vapour with fire, i. . why not wasted by expense of light, . effect of its rays on different coloured clothes, ii. . light of, proposed to be used instead of candlelight, iii. , . discovered to give light as soon as it rises, . _surfaces_ of glass, different state of its opposite ones, when electrised, i. , . _swimming_, skill of franklin in, i. . art of, how to be acquired, ii. how a person unacquainted with it may avoid sinking, . a delightful and wholesome exercise, ii. , . advantage of, to soldiers, . inventions to improve it, _ibid._ . medical effects of, _ibid._ t. _tariffs_, not easily settled in indian trade, iii. . _tautology_, an affected beauty of modern songs, ii. . _taxation_, american, letters to governor shirley on, iii. . american, dr. franklin's examination on, iii. , . internal and external, distinguished, . on importation of goods and consumption, difference between, . _tea-act_, the duty on, in america, how considered there, iii. , , . characterized by mr. burke, , _note_. _teach_, or blackbeard, name of a ballad written by franklin in his youth, i. . _thanks_ of the assembly of pensylvania to franklin, iii. . _thanksgiving-days_ appointed in new england instead of fasts, iii. . _theory_ of the earth, ii. . of light and heat, . _thermometer_, not cooled by blowing on, when dry, ii. . electrical, described, and experiments with, ii. . _thermometrical_ observations on the gulph-stream, ii. . on the warmth of sea-water, . _thirst_, may be relieved by sea-water, how, ii. . _thunder_ and lightning, how caused, i. . seldom heard far from land, . comparatively little at bermuda, _ibid._ defined, . _thunder-gusts_, what, i. . hypothesis to explain them, , _et seq._ _tides_ in rivers, motion of, explained, ii. , . _time_, occasional fragments of, how to be collected, ii. . is money to a tradesman, iii. . _toads_ live long without nourishment, ii. . _toleration_ in old and new england compared, ii. . _torpedo_, how to determine its electricity, i. , . _tourmalin_, its singular electrical properties, i. . experiments on it, , . _trade_, pleasure attending the first earnings in, i. . should be under no restrictions, ii. . exchanges in, may be advantageous to each party, . inland carriage no obstruction, to, iii. . great rivers in america, favourable to, . bills of credit, in lieu of money, the best medium of, . will find and make its own rates, . _tradesman_, advice to a young one, iii. . _transportation_ of felons to america, highly disagreeable to the inhabitants there, iii. . _treaty_ between america and prussia, humane article of, ii. . _treasures_, hidden, search after, ridiculed, iii. . _trees_, dangerous to be under, in thunder-storms, i. . the shivering of, by lightning, explained, . why cool in the sun, ii. . _tubes_ of glass, electrical, manner of rubbing, i. . lined with a non-electric, experiment with, . exhausted, electric fire moves freely in, . _tunes_, ancient scotch, why give general pleasure, ii. . composed to the wire-harp, . in parts, rousseau's opinion of, . modern, absurdities of, , _et seq._ _turkey_ killed by electricity, i. . _turks_, ceremony observed by, in visiting, iii. . v. u. _vacuum_, torricellian, experiment with, i. . electrical experiment in, . _vapour_, electrical experiment on, i. . _vapours_ from moist hay, &c. easily fired by lightning, i. . cause of their rising considered, ii. , . _vanity_, observation on, i. . _varnish_, dry, burnt by electric sparks, i. . _vattel's_ law of nations, greatly consulted by the american congress, iii. . _vegetable_ diet, observed by franklin, i. . abandoned by franklin, why, . _vegetation_, effects of, on noxious air, ii. . _velocity_ of the electric fire, i. . _virtue_ in private life exemplified, iii. . _vernon_, mr. reposes a trust in franklin, which he violates, i. . _vis_ inertiæ of matter, observations on, ii. . _visits_, unseasonable and importunate, letter on, iii. . _unintelligibleness_, a fault of modern singing, ii. . _union_, albany plan of. see _albany_. _union_ of america with britain, letter on, iii. . _united_ states of america, nature of the congress of, iii. *. _voyage_, from boston to new york, i. . from new york to philadelphia, . from newfoundland to new york, remarks on, ii. . crossing the gulph stream, journal of, . from philadelphia to france, , . from the channel to america, . to benefit distant countries, proposed, . _vulgar_ opinions, too much slighted, ii. . w. _waggons_, number of, supplied by franklin, on a military emergency, i. . _war_, civil, whether it strengthens a country considered, ii. . observations on, . laws of, gradually humanized, _ib._ humane article respecting, in a treaty between prussia and america, ii. . french, of , its origin, iii. . _warm_ rooms do not make people tender, or give colds, ii. . _washington_, early military talents of, i. . franklin's bequest to, . _water_, a perfect conductor of electricity, i. . strongly electrified, rises in vapour, . particles of, in rising, are attached to particles of air, . and air, attract each other, . exploded like gunpowder, by electricity, . expansion of, when reduced to vapour, _ib._ saturated with salt, precipitates the overplus, ii. . will dissolve in air, _ib._ expands when boiling, _ib._ how supported in air, . bubbles on the surface of, hypothesis respecting, . agitated, does not produce heat, , . supposed originally all salt, . fresh, produce of distillation only, _ib._ curious effects of oil on, . _water-casks_, how to dispose of, in leaky vessels, ii. . _water-spouts_, observations on, ii. . whether they descend or ascend, , , . various appearances of, . winds blow from all points towards them, . are whirlwinds at sea, _ib._ effect of one on the coast of guinea, . account of one at antigua, . various instances of, . mr. colden's observations on, . _watson_, mr. william, letter by, on thunder-clouds, i. . _waves_, stilled by oil, ii. , , . greasy water, . _wax_, when fluid will conduct electricity, i. . may be electrised positively and negatively, . _wealth_, way to, iii. . national, positions to be examined concerning, ii. . but three ways of acquiring it, . _webb_, george, a companion of franklin's, i. , , . _wedderburn_, mr. remarks on his treatment of franklin before the privy council, iii. , , notes; . _west_, mr. his conductor struck by lightning, i. . _western_ colonies, plan for settling them, iii. . _whatley_, mr. four letters to, iii. *. _wheels_, electrical, described, i. . _whirlwinds_, how formed, ii. . observations on, . a remarkable one at rome, . account of one in maryland, . _whistle_, a story, iii. . _white_, fittest colour for clothes in hot climates, ii. . _will_, extracts from franklin's, i. . _wilson_, mr. draws electricity from the clouds, i. . _wind_ generated by fermentation, ii. . _winds_ explained, ii. , , . the explanation objected to, , . observations on, by mr. colden, . whether confined to, or generated in, clouds, . raise the surface of the sea above its level, . effect of, on sound, . _winters_, hard, causes of, ii. . _winthrop_, professor, letters from, i. , . _wire_ conducts a great stroke of lightning, though destroyed itself, i. . _wolfe_, general, i. . _women_ of paris, singular saying respecting, as mothers, iii. *. _wood_, dry, will not conduct electricity, i. . why does not feel so cold as metals, ii. . _woods_, not unhealthy to inhabit, ii. . _woollen_, why warmer than linen, ii. , . _words_, to modern songs, only a pretence for singing, ii. . _wygate_, an acquaintance of franklin's, i. . _wyndham_, sir william, applies to franklin to teach his sons swimming, i. . transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. for consistency and clarity, the pound abbreviation 'l.' has been italicized, so for example ' , l.' has been replaced by ' , _l._' in the etext. for consistency, the date and salutation at the beginning of each letter, and the closing and name at the end of each letter, have been put on separate lines (they were sometimes placed on the same line in the original printed text). three or more asterisks, sometimes spaced, were used by the editor to indicate omitted text, and sometimes '-- -- --' or '----' were used. missing names were indicated by '----' or by '****'. for this reason thought breaks in the text are indicated by two blank lines, not by a line of asterisks. a deliberate blank space in the text is indicated by [___]. all the changes noted in the errata (pg vi) have been applied to the text. many footnotes have the signature 'b. v.' rather than 'editor'. this is explained in vol p footnote [ ], and is copied below for the reader's convenience:- wherever this signature occurs, the note is taken from a volume of dr. franklin's writings, entitled political, miscellaneous, and philosophical pieces, printed for johnson, . the editor of that volume, though a young man at the time, had already evinced extraordinary talents, and was the friend and correspondent of our author. as he has chosen to withhold his name, we conceive ourselves not entitled to disclose it: but we shall take the freedom of an acquaintance to use the notes occasionally, deeming them in many instances valuable historical records. editor. except for those changes noted below, misspelling in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. for example, compleat; controul; inclose; smoaky; pensylvania; massachussets; new-england, new england; shopkeeper, shop-keeper. in addition: pg vi errata. page ' ' replaced by ' '. pg . 'infringment' replaced by 'infringement'. pg . 'would he' replaced by 'would be'. pg . 'and slso to' replaced by 'and also to'. pg . 'problably give' replaced by 'probably give'. pg . 'iron mafacture' replaced by 'iron manufacture'. pg . 'thesettlers;' replaced by 'the settlers;'. pg fn [ ] 'our anthor' replaced by 'our author'. pg . 'provice for' replaced by 'province for'. pg . 'twightwee' replaced by 'twigtwee'. pg . 'in theuse' replaced by 'in the use'. pg . 'poll-tax of sen' replaced by 'poll-tax of ten'. pg . 'lower countries' replaced by 'lower counties'. pg . 'msy inspire' replaced by 'may inspire'. pg fn [ ] 'observatious' replaced by 'observations'. pg . 'meer names' replaced by 'mere names'. pg fn [ ] ' , , ' replaced by the correct total ' , , '. pg fn [ ] 'those swo' replaced by 'those two'. pg . 'londom' replaced by 'london'. pg . 'satisfacton' replaced by 'satisfaction'. pg . 'farewel-speech' replaced by 'farewell speech'. pg . 'sauction' replaced by 'sanction'. pg fn [ ] 'great britian' replaced by 'great britain'. pg . 'cruel idsult' replaced by 'cruel insult'. pg fn [ ] 'trroops' replaced by 'troops'. pg fn [ ] 'repeal or' replaced by 'repeal of'. pg . 'snpposing' replaced by 'supposing'. pg et seq. seventeen instances of ' .' replaced by 'q.' pg . 't. in my opinion' replaced by 'a. in my opinion'. pg . 'q. i suppose' replaced by 'a. i suppose'. pg fn [ ] ' slave' replaced by 'a slave.'. pg fn [ ] 'froward child' replaced by 'forward child'. pg . 'vice-gerent' replaced by 'vice-regent'. pg . 'adn villains' replaced by 'and villains'. pg fn [ ] 'wolud be' replaced by 'would be'. pg fn [ ] 'wedderburne' replaced by 'wedderburn'. pg . missing anchor for footnote [ ] added. pg . 'la royanté' replaced by 'la royauté'. pg . 'send yon' replaced by 'send you'. pg . 'our intrepreter' replaced by 'our interpreter'. pg . 'genuises' replaced by 'geniuses'. pg . missing anchor for footnote [ ] added. pg fn [ ] 'who furnised' replaced by 'who furnished'. pg . 'sentimeat' replaced by 'sentiment'. pg *. 'oo muc h' replaced by 'too much'. index pg i. 'animalcnles' replaced by 'animalcules'. index pg i. 'relation batween' replaced by 'relation between'. the index covers all three volumes and was originally printed at the end of volume only. it has been copied to the end of volume and as a convenience for the reader. the index had no page numbers in the original text; page numbers from i to i have been added for completeness. for clarity, some volume identifiers (i. or ii. or iii.) have been added, or removed, in the index. only references within this volume have been hyperlinked. the index has some references to page numbers with a *, eg *. these are valid references; the book printer inserted pages *- * between pages and in vol iii. ancient and modern physics by thomas e. willson contents preface i. physical basis of metaphysics ii. the two kinds of perception iii. matter and ether iv. what a teacher should teach v. the four manifested planes vi. one place on earth vii. the four globes viii. the battle ground ix. the dual man x. the septenary world xi. stumbling blocks in eastern physics preface the editor of the theosophical forum in april, , noted the death of mr. thomas e. willson in the previous month in an article which we reproduce for the reason that we believe many readers who have been following the chapters of "ancient and modern physics" during the last year will like to know something of the author. in these paragraphs is said all that need be said of one of our most devoted and understanding theosophists. in march, , the theosophical forum lost one of its most willing and unfailing contributors. mr. t.e. willson died suddenly, and the news of his death reached me when i actually was in the act of preparing the concluding chapter of his "ancient and modern physics" for the april number. like the swan, who sings his one song, when feeling that death is near, mr. willson gave his brother co-workers in the theosophical field all that was best, ripest and most suggestive in his thought in the series of articles the last of which is to come out in the same number with this. the last time i had a long talk with t.e. willson, he said" "for twenty years and more i was without a hearing, yet my interest and my faith in what i had to say never flagged, the eagerness of my love for my subject never diminished." this needs no comment. the quiet and sustained resistance to indifference and lack of appreciation, is truly the steady ballast which has prevented our theosophical ship from aimless and fatal wanderings, though of inclement weather and adverse winds we had plenty. for many long years mr. willson was the librarian of the new york "world." in the afternoons he was too busy to see outsiders, but, beginning with five o'clock in the afternoon until he went home somewhere in the neighbourhood of midnight, he always was glad to see his friends. he had a tiny little room of his own, very near the top of the tremendous building, his one window looking far above the roofs of the tallest houses in the district. there he sat at his desk, generally in his shirt sleeves, if the weather was at all warm, always busy with some matter already printed, or going to be, a quiet, yet impressive and dignified figure. the elevated isolation, both figuratively and literally speaking, in which t.e. willson lived and worked, in the midst of the most crowded thoroughfares of new york, always made me think of professor teufelsdrockh on the attic floor of "the highest house in the wahngasse." the two had more than one point of resemblance. they shared the loftiness of their point of view, their sympathetic understanding of other folks, their loneliness, and, above all, their patient, even humorous resignation to the fact of this loneliness. yet in his appearance mr. willson was not like the great weissnichtwo philosopher. in fact, in the cast of his features and in his ways, mr. willson never looked to me like a white man. in british india i have known brahmans of the better type exactly with the same sallow complexion, same quick and observant brown eye, same portly figure and same wide-awakeness and agility of manner. last summer i heard, on good authority, that mr. willson had thought himself into a most suggestive way of dealing with the problems of matter and spirit, a way which, besides being suggestive, bore a great resemblance to some theories of the same nature, current in ancient india. consequently mr. willson was offered, for the first time in his life, a chance of expressing his views on matter and spirit in as many articles and in as extensive a shape as he chose. the way he received this tardy recognition of the fact that he had something to say was highly instructive. he did not put on airs of unrecognized greatness, though, i own, the occasion was propitious; he did not say, "i told you so;" he simply and frankly was glad, in, the most childlike way. and now that i have used the word, it occurs to me that "childlike" is an adjective the best applied to this man, in spite of his portliness, and his three score and more winters. many a pleasant hour i have spent in the small bookroom of the great "world" building. with mr. willson talk never flagged. we discussed the past and the future of our planetary chain, we built plans for the true and wholesome relation of sexes, we tried to find out--and needless to say never did--the exact limit where matter stopped being matter and became spirit; we also read the latest comic poems and also, from time to time, we took a header into the stormy sea of american literature in order to find out what various wise heads had to say, consciously or unconsciously, in favour of our beloved theosophical views. and all this, being interrupted every three minutes or so by some weary apparition from some workroom in the "world" with some such question: "mr. willson, how am i to find out the present whereabouts of this or that russian man-of-war? mr. willson, what is the melting point of iron? mr. willson, when was `h.m.s. pinafore' produced for the first time?" etc., etc. and every time, mr. willson got up in the leisurely manner peculiar to him, reached for some book from the shelves that lined the room, gave the desired information, and as leisurely returned to the "pranic atom," or to "come and talk man talk, willy," or to whatever our subject chanced to be at the time. mr. willson's gratitude to the theosophical forum for its recognition was disproportionately great. as he wrote to the editor: "give me any kind of work, writing for you, reviewing, manuscript or proof reading, i shall do anything, i shall undertake any job, even to taking editorial scoldings in all good nature, only give me work." his devotion to theosophical thought and work in all their ramifications was just as great, as was his freedom from vanity, his perfectly natural and unaffected modesty. at the news of his death many a heart was sincerely sad, but none so sad as the heart of the editor of the theosophical forum. for a friend and co-worker like t.e. willson, ever ready to give material help and moral encouragement, is not easily replaced. for a soul so pure of any kind of selfishness the transition from the turmoil of life to the bright dreams of death must have been both easy and enviable. -------------- chapter one the physical basis if metaphysics the hindu system of physics, on which the metaphysical thought of the east is based, does not in its beginnings differ widely from the latest physics of the west; but it goes so much farther that our physics is soon lost sight of and forgotten. the hindu conception of the material universe, taken from the upanishads and some open teaching, will serve for an illustration. they divide physical matter into four kinds--prakriti, ether, prana, and manasa--which they call "planes." these differ only in the rate of vibration, each plane vibrating through one great octave, with gulfs of "lost" octaves between. the highest rate of vibration of prakriti is measured by the thousand, the lowest of the ether by trillions, and the lowest of prana by--never mind; they have, and we have not, the nomenclature. the earth, they teach, is a globe of prakriti, floating in an ocean of ether, which, as it has the sun for its center of gravity, must necessarily be a globe. this etheric sun-globe has a diameter of over , , , miles. all the planets revolve around the sun far within its atmosphere. the etheric sun-globe revolves on its axis once in about , years, and this revolution causes the precession of the equinoxes. this etheric sun-globe is revolving around alcyone with other etheric globes having suns for their centers and solar systems of prakritic globes within them in a great year of , , , of our common years. its orbit has a diameter of , , , , , miles. beyond the etheric globes, and between them, is a third form of matter called prana, as much rarer and finer than the ether as the ether is rarer and finer than prakriti. as this prana has alcyone for a center of gravity, it is necessarily a globe; and there are many of these pranic globes floating in a vast ocean of manasa--a form of matter as much finer than prana as prana is finer than ether, or ether than prakriti. with this manasa (which is a globe) the material, or physical, universe ends; but there are spiritual globes beyond. the material universe is created from manasa, downward, but it does not respond to or chord with the vibration of the globes above, except in a special instance and in a special way, which does not touch this inquiry. the physical universe of the ancient (and modern) hindu physicist was made up of these four kinds or planes of matter, distributed in space as "globes within globes." professor lodge in put forth the theory that prakriti (physical matter) as we call it, was in its atoms but "whirls" of ether. since then speculative science has generally accepted the idea that the physical atom is made up of many cubic feet of ether in chemical union, as many quarts of oxygen and hydrogen unite chemically to make a drop of water. this is an old story to the hindu sage. he tells his pupils that the great globe of manasa once filled all space, and there was nothing else. precisely as on this earth we have our elementary substances that change from liquids into solids and gases, so on this manasic globe there were elementary substances that took the form of liquids, solids and gases. its manasic matter was differentiated and vibrated through one octave, as the prakritic matter does on the earth. its substances combined as that does. one combination produced prana. the prana collected, and formed globes. on these pranic globes the process was repeated, with ether as the result, and the etheric globes formed. then the process was repeated on the etheric globes, as the modern scientists have discovered, and prakriti and prakritic globes came into being. the true diameter of the earth, the ancient hindu books say, is about , miles. that is to say, the true surface of the earth is the line of twenty-four-hour axial rotation; the line where gravity and apergy exactly balance; where a moon would have to be placed to revolve once in , seconds. within that is prakriti; without is ether. it is also the line of no friction, which does exist between matter of different planes. there is friction between prakriti, between ether, between prana; but not between ether and prana, or ether and prakriti. friction is a phenomenon confined to the matter of each plane separately. we live at the bottom of this gaseous ocean--on its floor -- , miles from the surface and only , miles from the center. here, in a narrow "skin" limited to a few miles above and below us, is the realm of phenomena, where solid turns into liquid and liquid into gas, or vice versa. the lesson impressed upon the pupil's mind by hindu physics is that he lives far within the earth, not on it. there is a comparatively narrow "skin" of and for phenomena within the etheric sun-globe, say the eastern teachers, where the etheric solids, liquids, and gases meet and mingle and interchange. within this "skin" are all the planets--the "gaseous" atmosphere of the etheric globe stretching millions of miles beyond the outermost planetary orbit. the earth is in this skin or belt of etheric phenomena, and its ether is in touch with the ether "in manifestation" on the etheric globe. the sun and other etheric globes are within the corresponding "skin" of phenomena of the pranic globes. the prana, manifesting as solid, liquid, and gas, or in combination and in forms, is in perfect touch with that of the etheric globe, and through that with the prana of the earth. that our prana is in touch with that on the pranic globe in all its manifestations means much in metaphysics. the same is true of the manasic globe, and of our manasa. the great lesson the eastern physics burns into the pupil is that we are living not only within the prakritic earth, but within each of the other globes as well in identically the same way and subject to the same laws. our lives are not passed on one globe, but in four globes. it is as if one said he lived in buffalo, erie county, new york, united states; that he was a citizen of each and subject to the laws of each. this question of the four globes, of the four planes of matter, of the four skins, and of the four conditions or states of all matter and necessarily of all persons, from the purely material standpoint, is not only the foundation of oriental physics, but the very essence of oriental metaphysics--its starting-point and corner-stone. to one who carries with him, consciously or unconsciously, the concrete knowledge of the physics, the abstract teaching of the metaphysics presents no difficulty; it is as clear as crystal. but without the physical teaching the metaphysical is not translatable. our western physics teaches that physical matter is divided into two kinds prakriti (commonly called "physical matter") and ether; that the differences of each of the elementary prakritic substances (iron, copper, sulphur, oxygen) are in their molecules, the fundamental atom being the same; that each of these elementary substances vibrates only through one octave, though on different keys; that it changes from solid to liquid and gas as the rate of vibration is increased and from gas to liquid and solid as its vibration is decreased within its octave; that the ether obeys identical laws; that it has elementary substances vibrating through one octave only, and that these are solids, liquids, or gases on the etheric plane as prakriti is on this; that these etheric substances change and combine in every way that prakriti does; and that while all our prakritic substances vibrate within (say) fifty simply octaves, the lowest vibration of etheric matter begins over one thousand octaves beyond our highest, making a gulf to leap. the eastern physics presents this with a wealth of detail that dazes the western student, and then adds: "but beyond the etheric plane (or octave) of vibration for matter there is a third plane (or octave) of vibration called prana and beyond that a fourth called manasa. what is true of one plane is true of the other three. one law governs the four. as above so below. there is no real gulf; there is perfect continuity." the western scientist teaches as the foundation of modern physics that "each and every atom of prakritic matter is the center of an etheric molecule of many atoms;" that "no two prakritic atoms touch," although their etheric envelopes or atmospheres do touch; and that "all physical phenomena are caused by the chording vibration of the prakritic atom and its envelope of ether," each "sounding the same note hundreds of octaves apart." the "solid earth" with its atmosphere represents the atom with its ether. as all the oxygen and hydrogen do not combine to make the drop of water, some remaining in mechanical union to give it an atmosphere, and about one-fourth of its bulk being gas, so the atom formed of the ether does not use all the ether in its chemical union, retaining some in mechanical union for its envelope or atmosphere. the hindu physics goes much farther along this road. it says that, when the pranic globes were formed, each atom of prana had its manasic envelope--was the center of a manasic molecule. when the etheric globes formed, each atom of ether was the center of a pranic molecule, each atom of which was surrounded with manasa. when the prakriti was formed from the ether, each and every atom of prakriti had the triple etheric-pranic-manasic envelope. "each and every prakritic atom is the center of an etheric molecule," says our western science; but that of the east adds this: "and each atom of that etheric molecule is the center of a pranic molecule, and each atom of prana in that pranic molecule is the center of a manasic molecule." the four great globes of matter in the material universe are represented and reproduced in each and every atom of prakriti, which is in touch with each one of the four globes and a part of it. the same is true of any aggregation of prakriti--of the earth itself and of all things in it, including man. as there are four atoms in each one, so there are four earths, four globes, consubstantial, one for each of the four elements, and in touch with it. one is formed of prakritic atoms--the globe we know; another, of the ether forming their envelopes; another, of the prana envelopes of ether, and a fourth of the manasa around the pranic atom. they are not "skins"; they are consubstantial. and what is true of atoms or globes is true of animals. each has four "material" bodies, with each body on the corresponding globe --whether of the earth or of the universe. this is the physical basis of the famous "chain of seven globes" that is such a stumbling-block in hindu metaphysics. the spirit passes through four to get in and three to get out--seven in all. the hindu understands without explanation. he understands his physics. the hindu physics teaches, with ours, that "the ether is the source of all energy," but, it adds, "as prana is the source of all life, and manasa of all mind." "when the prakritic atom is vibrating in chord with its etheric envelope," say our textbooks, "we have physical phenomena --light, heat, electricity." "yes," says the hindu teacher; "but when the atom and its ether and its prana are vibrating in chord, we have life and vital phenomena added to the energy. when the atom and its ether, prana, and manasa are vibrating in chord, we have mind and mental phenomena added to the life and energy." each atom has energy, life, and mind in posse. in the living leaf the prakriti, ether, and prana are sounding the threefold silver chord of life. in the animal, the manasa is sounding the same note with them, making the fourfold golden chord of mind. even in the plant there may be a faint manasic overtone, for the potentiality of life and mind is in everything. this unity of the physical universe with the physical atom, and with all things created--earth, animal, or crystal--is the physical backbone of oriental metaphysics. prakriti, ether, prana, and manasa are in our vernacular the earth, air, fire, and water of the old philosophers--the "four elements." the oriental physics has been guarded most jealously. for many thousands of years it has been the real occult and esoteric teaching, while the oriental metaphysics has been open and exoteric. it could not be understood without the key, and the key was in the physics known only to "the tried and approved disciple." a little has leaked out--enough to whet the appetite of the true student and make him ask for more. chapter two the two kinds of perception to the savage, matter appears in two forms--solid and liquid. as he advances a step he learns it has three forms--solid, liquid and gas. he cannot see the gas, but he knows it is there. a little further on he learns that matter as he knows it is only a minute portion of the great universe of matter--the few chords that can be struck on the five strings of his senses, and limited to one octave or key. whether the particular matter he investigates has a solid, a liquid, or a gaseous form depends upon its rate of vibration. if it is a liquid, by raising its rate of vibration one third it becomes a gas; by reducing it one third it becomes a solid. each kind of matter has vibration only through one octave. it is known to us only by its vibration in that octave. each kind of matter has a different octave--is set on a higher or lower key, so to speak, but all octaves of vibration are between the highest of hydrogen gas and the lowest of carbon. in mechanical compounds, such as air or brass, the rate of vibration of the compound is the least common multiple of the two or more rates. in chemical compounds, such as water or alcohol, the rate is that of the highest, the others uniting in harmonic fractions. all matter as we know it through our senses--prakriti, as it is called in the secret doctrine to distinguish it from non-sensual matter--is the vibration of an universal something, we do not know what, through these different octaves. the elementary substances (so-called) are one and the same thing--this something--in different keys and chords of vibration; keys that run into one another, producing all sorts of beautiful harmonies. taking any one of these elements, or any of their compounds, all we know of it is limited strictly to its changes during vibration through one octave. what happens when the vibration goes above or below the octave has not yet been treated hypothetically. while some elements are vibrating on higher and some on lower keys, we can consider them all as vibrating within one great octave, that octave of the universal something which produces sensual matter, or prakriti. but matter is not confined, we know, to this great octave, although our sensual knowledge of it is strictly confined to it. how do we know it? knowledge comes to us in two ways, and there are two kinds of knowledge. . that which comes through our senses, by observation and experience. this includes reasoning from relation. . that which comes through intuition--or, as some writers inaccurately say, "through the formal laws of thought." all the observation and experience of the rising and the setting of the sun for a thousand centuries could only have confirmed the first natural belief that it revolved daily around the earth; nor by joining this experience with other experiences could any deduction have come from our reason that would have opposed it. not our reason but our intuition said that the sun stood still and the earth revolved daily. the oldest books in existence tell us that this axial revolution of the earth was not only known in the very dawn of time but that it has been known to every race (except our own of european savages) from before the time thought was first transmitted by writing. ask the ablest living geographer or physicist to prove to you that the earth revolves daily and he will reply that it would be the job of his life. it can be done at great expense and great labor, but that is because we know the answer and can invent a way of showing it, not because there are any observations from which a deduction would naturally follow. nearly if not all our great discoveries have come to us through intuition and not from observation and experience. when we know the lines on which to work, when intuition has given us the key, then the observation and experience men prize so highly, and the reason they worship so devoutly, will fill in the details. the knowledge that flows from observation and the reasoning from the facts it records, is never more than relatively true, it is always limited by the facts, and any addition to the facts requires the whole thing to be restated. we never know all the facts; seldom even the more important; and reason grasps only details. lamarck's theory of evolution, known to all asiatic races from time immemorial, was the intuitional and absolute knowledge that comes to all men when they reach a certain stage of development. reason could never have furnished it from the facts, as cuvier proved in the great debate in the french academy in , when he knocked lamarck out, for the time being, because "it did not conform to the facts, and did not follow from any relation of the facts." darwin's theory of the survival of the fittest in the struggle for existence, as an explanation of the origin of species, was from observation and experience. it was based on observed facts. but darwin was an evolutionist--a disciple of lamarck. he held the key. he used the key. the value of darwin's work does not lie in his discovering that some bugs have been derived from other bugs and that the intermediate bugs have died off. its overwhelming value to mankind was in showing that work on the theory of evolution was correct work and that the theory was true. when the intuition of man points out the way the reason of man can follow the path and macadam the road. it usually does and claims all the credit for itself as the original discoverer. this knowledge through intuition is absolute and exact. it is not relatively true. it is absolutely and invariably true. no additional facts will ever modify it, or require a restatement. when sir william hamilton based his logic on the dictum that "all knowledge is relative, and only relatively true," the proposition was self-evidently false. it was in itself a statement of absolute knowledge about a certain thing. it was in itself knowledge that was not relative. all knowledge could not be relative if this knowledge was not. this knowledge could not be either absolute or relative without upsetting his whole proposition, for, if relative, then it was not always true; and if absolute, then it was never true. sir william did not know the distinction between the two kinds of knowledge, and what he meant to say was that "all knowledge obtained by observation and experience is relative, and only relatively true." his knowledge of this relativity was not obtained by observation or from reason. it could not possibly have been obtained in that way. it came from intuition, and it was absolute and exact. a man may have absolute and exact knowledge and yet not be able to put it into words that exactly express it to another. hamilton had this knowledge. but it was not clearly formulated even in his own mind. he had two separate and distinct meanings for the word "knowledge," without being conscious of it. we have yet to coin a proper word to express what comes to us through intuition. the old english word "wisdom" originally did. the old verb "wis" was meant what a man knew without being told it, as "ken" meant knowledge by experience. try and prove by reason that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points, or that a part can never be greater than the whole, and your reason has an impossible task. "you must take them for axioms," it says. you must take them because you wis them, not because you know (ken) them. intuitional knowledge must not be confounded with the relative knowledge that flows through the reason: that "if the sum of two numbers is one and their difference is five," the numbers are minus two and plus three. the point cannot be too strongly enforced that there is a distinction between the sources of what we know, and that while all we know through our sensations is only relatively true, that which we know from intuition is invariably and absolutely true. this is seen through a glass darkly, in theology, where intuition is called inspiration and not differentiated from reason. the false notion that we can only learn by observation and experience, that the concept can never transcend the observation, that we can only know what we can prove to our senses, has wrought incalculable injury to progress in philosophy. because our sensual knowledge of matter begins and ends with vibration in one octave it does not follow that this ends our knowledge of it. we may have intuitional knowledge, and this intuitional knowledge is as susceptible to reason as if we had obtained it by observation. the knowledge that comes through intuition tells us of matter vibrating in another great octave just beyond our own, which science has chosen to name the etheric octave, or plane. the instant our intuition reveals the cause of phenomena our reason drops in and tells us it is the chording vibration of the matter of the two planes--the physical and etheric--that produces all physical phenomena. it goes further and explains its variations. this knowledge of another octave or plane of matter comes from the logical relations of matter and its physical phenomena; but there was nothing in the observation or experience of mankind that would have led us to infer from reason an etheric plane of matter. it was "revealed" truth. but the flash of revelation having once made the path apparent, the light of reason carries us through all the winding ways. our knowledge of the ether is not guess-work or fancy, any more than our geometry is, because it is based on axioms our reason cannot prove. in both cases the basic axioms are obtained from intuition; the structural work from reason. our knowledge of the ether may be as absolute and exact as our knowledge of prakriti, working on physical as we work on geometrical axioms. the recognition of the two sources of knowledge, the work of the spirit within us and of the mind within us, is absolutely necessary to correctly comprehend the true significance of the results of modern science and to accept the ancient. chapter three matter and ether it is not worthwhile translating homer into english unless the readers of the translation understand english. it is not worthwhile attempting to translate the occult eastern physics into the language of our western and modern physics, unless those who are to read the translation understand generally and broadly what our own modern physics teach. it is not necessary that they should know all branches of our modern physics in all their minute ramifications; but it is necessary that they should understand clearly the fundamental principles upon which our scientific and technical knowledge of today rests. these fundamental principles have been discovered and applied in the past fifty years--in the memory of the living. they have revolutionized science in all its departments. our textbooks on chemistry, light, heat, electricity and sound have had to be entirely re-written; and in many other departments, notably in medicine and psychology, they have yet to be re-written. our textbooks are in a transition state, each new one going a step farther, to make the change gradual from the old forms of belief to the new, so that even tyndall's textbook on "sound" is now so antedated, or antiquated, that it might have been written in darkest africa before the pyramids were built, instead of twenty years ago. all this change has flowed from the discovery of faraday that there are two states or conditions of matter. in one it is revealed by one of our five senses, visible, tangible, smellable, tastable, or ponderable matter. this is matter as we know it. it may be a lump of metal or a flask of gas. the second condition or state of matter is not revealed by either of our five senses, but by the sixth sense, or intuition of man. this is the ether--supposed to be "matter in a very rarefied form, which permeates all space." so rare and fine is this matter that it interpenetrates carbon or steel as water interpenetrates a sponge, or ink a blotting pad. in fact, each atom of "physical" matter--by which is meant matter in the first condition--floats in an atmosphere of ether as the solid earth floats in its atmosphere of air. "no two physical atoms touch," said faraday. "each physical atom is the centre of an etheric molecule, and as far apart from every other atom as the stars in heaven from one another." this is true of every form of physical matter, whether it is a lump of metal, a cup of liquid, or a flask of gas; whether it is a bronze statue or a living man; a leaf, a cloud, or the earth itself. each and every physical atom is the centre of an etheric molecule made up of many atoms of the ether. this duality of matter was a wonderful discovery, revolutionizing every department of science. it placed man in actual touch with the whole visible universe. the ether in a man's eye (and in his whole body) reaches in one unbroken line--like a telegraph wire --from him to the sun, or the outermost planet. he is not separate and apart from "space," but a part of it. each physical atom of his physical body is the centre of an etheric molecule, and he has two bodies, as st. paul said, a visible physical and an invisible etheric body; the latter in actual touch with the whole universe. faraday went one step further. he demonstrated that all physical phenomena come from the chording vibration of the physical atom with the surrounding etheric atoms, and that the latter exercise the impelling force on the former. step into the sunshine. the line of ether from the sun is vibrating faster than the ether in the body, but the higher impels the lower, the greater controls the lesser, and soon both ethers are in unison. the physical atoms must coincide in vibration with their etheric envelopes, and the "note" is "heat." step into the shade, where the ocean of ether is vibrating more slowly, and the ether of the body reduces its vibration. "the ether is the origin of all force and of all phenomena." this etheric matter follows identical laws with prakritic matter, or, accurately, the laws of our matter flow from the etheric matter from which it is made. the ether has two hundred or more elementary substances, each atom of our eighty or ninety "elements" being the chemical union of great masses of two or more of the etheric elements or their combinations. these etheric elementary substances combine and unite; our elementary substances simply following in their combinations the law which they inherit from their parents. they take form and shape. they vibrate through one octave, and take solid liquid or gaseous form in ether, as their types here in our world take it in prakriti, as their vibrations are increased or diminished. in short, the ether is the prototype of our physical or prakritic world, out of which it is made and a product of which it is. as this ether is "physical" matter, the same as prakriti, one harmonic law covering both, and as this ether fills all space, modern science divides physical matter into two kinds, which, for convenience in differentiation, are here called prakritic and etheric. matter is something--science does not know or care to know what --in vibration. a very low octave of vibration produces prakriti; a very high octave of vibration produces ether. the vibration of prakriti ends in thousands; that of ether begins in billions. between them there is a gulf of vibrations that has not yet been bridged. for that reason science divides matter into two "planes," or octaves, of vibration--the matter of this visible and tangible plane being called prakriti and that of the invisible and intangible plane being called etheric. across this gulf the two planes respond to each other, note for note, the note in trillions chording when the note in thousands is struck. note for note, chord for chord, they answer one another, and the minutest and the most complex phenomena are alike the result of this harmonic vibration, that of the ether supplying force and that of the prakriti a medium in which it can manifest. this knowledge of ether is not guesswork or fancy, and, while it is as impossible of proof as the axioms of geometry, it is worthy the same credence and honor. we are working on physical axioms exactly as we work on geometrical axioms. modern science represents each and every prakritic atom as a globe like the earth, floating in space and surrounded by an atmosphere of ether. "the subdivision of prakritic matter until we reach etheric atoms chemically united to make the physical unit" is the correct definition of an atom. the prakritic physical atom has length, breadth and thickness. and it has an atmosphere of ether which not only interpenetrates the atom as oxygen and hydrogen interpenetrate the drop of water, but furnishes it with an envelope as the oxygen and hydrogen furnish the drop of water with one. each physical atom is the centre of an etheric molecule composed of many etheric atoms vibrating at a greater or lesser speed and interpenetrating the atom. each may be considered a miniature earth, with its aerial envelope, the air, penetrating all parts of it. the etheric plane of matter not only unites with this prakritic plane through the atom but it interpenetrates all combinations of it; beside the atom as well as through the atom. the grain of sand composed of many prakritic atoms is also composed of many times that number of etheric atoms. the grain of sand is etheric matter as well as prakritic matter. it exists on the etheric plane exactly the same as it exists on the prakritic, and it has etheric form as well as prakritic form. as each atom of this physical world of ours--whether of land, or water, or air; whether of solid, liquid or gas--is the centre of an etheric molecule, we have two worlds, not one: a physical world and an etheric one; a visible world and an invisible world; a tangible world and an intangible world; a world of effect and a world of cause. and each animal, including man, is made in the same way. he has a prakritic body and an etheric body; a visible body and an invisible body; an earthly body and one "not made with hands," in common touch with the whole universe. chapter four what a teacher should teach let us suppose that a certain wise teacher of physics places a row of bunsen burners under a long steel bar having a daniell's pyrometer at one end, and addresses his class (substantially) as follows: "at our last lecture we found that the matter of the universe permeated all space, but in two conditions, which we agreed to call physical and etheric, or tangible and intangible. it is all the same matter, subject to the same laws, but differing in the rate of vibration, the physical matter vibrating through one great octave or plane, and the etheric vibrating through another great octave or plane one degree higher--the chording vibration of the matter of the two planes in one note producing what we call energy or force, and with it phenomena. "this is a bar of steel inches long. it is composed of physical atoms but no two physical atoms touch. each physical atom is as far apart from every other atom as the stars in heaven from one another--in proportion to their size. the atoms and the spaces between them are so small to our sight that they seem to touch. if we had a microscope of sufficient power to reveal the atom, you would see that no two atoms touch, and that the spaces between them are, as faraday says, very great in proportion to their size. i showed you last term that what appeared to be a solid stream of water, when magnified and thrown upon a screen, was merely a succession of independent drops that did not touch. i can not yet give you proof of the bar of iron being composed of independent atoms, but that is the fault of our instruments, and you must take my word for it until the proof is simplified and made easy of application. "each one of these physical atoms is a miniature world. it is the center of an ocean of ether, composed of many atoms; and while no two physical atoms touch, their etheric atmospheres do touch, and any change in the vibration of the etheric atmosphere of one will be imparted to that of the next. as the vibration of the physical atom must be in harmony with that of its etheric atmosphere, any change coming to one will be imparted to the next, and the next, through the ether surrounding them. "you can see that the index at the end of the bar has moved, showing that it is now longer. that means the etheric atoms are now vibrating faster, taking more space, and have necessarily forced each physical atom farther apart. the bar is not only longer, but softer, and as the vibrations increase in rapidity the time will come when it will bend by its own weight, and even when it will become a liquid and a gas. "if you put your hand anywhere near the bar you will feel a sensation called heat, and say it has become hot. the reason for that is that you are in actual and literal touch with the bar or iron through the ether. it is not alone each atom of the bar of iron that is surrounded by the ether, but each atom of the air, and each atom of your body. their etheric atmospheres are all touching, and the increase in the vibration of the ether surrounding the atoms of iron is imparted to those of the air surrounding it, and these in turn raise the rate of vibration in the etheric atoms surrounding the physical atoms of your hand. this rate of vibration in your nerves causes a sensation, or mental impression, you call "heat." consciousness of it comes through your sense of touch; but after all it is merely a "rate of vibration" which your brain recognizes and names. "the bar has now reached a temperature of about degrees, and has become a dull red. why do you say the color has changed, and why do you say red? "because the rate of vibration of the etheric atoms in the bar is now about trillions per second, and this rate of vibration having been imparted to the ether of the air, has in turn been imparted to the ether of your eye, and this rate of vibration in the ether of the nerves of your eye your brain recognizes and calls 'red.' "the heat still continues and increases. you now have both heat and light. so you see that the ether is not vibrating in a single note, but in two chording notes, producing light and heat. there are two kinds of ether around the iron atom. there is sound also, but the note is too high for one's ears. it is a chord of three notes. "professor silliman, of yale, discovered over twenty years ago, that the ether could be differentiated into the luminiferous, or light ether, and the sonoriferous, or sound ether. "other great scientists since then have found a third ether--the heat ether. "their discoveries show that the atmospheric etheric envelope of each etheric atom is made up of etheric atoms of different vibratory powers. as the atmosphere of the earth is made up of atoms of oxygen and nitrogen and argon, so that of an atom is made up of three kinds of ethers, corresponding to three of our senses. that it consists of five ethers, corresponding to our five senses, as the ancient hindus assert--who can say? "i mention this subject of the differentiation of the ether merely that you may not suppose that the ether is a simple substance. for the present we will treat it as a simple substance, but next year we will take it up as a compound one. "this steel bar before you is not one bar, but two bars. there is a visible bar and an invisible bar, the visible bar being made of physical atoms, and the invisible bar of etheric atoms. the etheric bar is invisible, but it is made of matter, the same as the visible bar, and it is just as real, just as truly a bar as the one we see. "more than this. the etheric, invisible bar is the source and cause of all phenomena connected with the bar. it is the real bar, and the one we see is merely the shadow in physical matter of a real bar. in shape, strength, color, in short, in everything, it depends on the invisible one. the invisible dominates, governs, disposes. the visible is merely its attendant shadow, changing as the invisible, etheric bar changes, and recording for our senses these invisible changes. "the invisible change always comes first; the invisible phenomena invariably precede the visible. "in all this physical world--in all this universe--there is nothing, not even a grain of sand or an atom of hydrogen, that is not as this bar of iron is--the shadow cast on a visible world by the unknown and mysterious work of an invisible world. "land or water, mountain or lake, man or beast, bird or reptile, cold or heat, light or darkness, all are the reflection in physical matter of the true and real thing in the invisible and intangible world about us. "if we have a visible body we have an invisible one also," said saint paul. modern science has proven he was right, and that it is the invisible body which is the real body. "if this earth and all that it is composed of--land or ocean or air; man or beast; pyramid or pavement--could be resolved into the physical atoms composing everything in it or on it created by god or man, each atom of this dust would be identical physically. there would not be one kind of atom for iron and another for oxygen. "the differentiation between what are called elementary substances is first made apparent in the molecule or first combination of the atoms. it is not in the atom itself, unless it be in the size, as may not be improbable. the atoms combine in different numbers to make differently shaped molecules, and it is from this difference in the shape of the molecule that we get the difference between gold and silver, copper and tin, or oxygen and hydrogen. "in all chemical compounds, such as water and alcohol, the molecules at the base of the two or more substances break up into their original atoms and form a new molecule composed of all the atoms in the two or more things combined. to make this chemical combination we must change the rate of vibration of one or the other or both until they strike a common chord. as we saw last term, oxygen and hydrogen have different specific heats, and no two other elements have the same specific heat, while heat raises the rate of vibration. any given amount of heat raises the vibration of one more than another. apply heat, and the rate of one will rise faster than that of the other until they reach a common chord. then they fall apart and recombine. "if we pass a current of electricity through this sealed jar containing oxygen and hydrogen in mechanical union, the spark that leaps across the points furnishes the heat, and a drop of water appears and falls to the bottom. a large portion of the gases has disappeared. it has been converted into water. what is left of the gases will expand and fill the bottle. "the drop of water but for local causes, but for a certain attraction of the earth, would float in the centre of the jar at the centre of gravity, as the earth does in space. but the centre of gravity of the two bodies is far within the earth, and the drop gets as close to it as it can. the earth's 'pull' takes it to the bottom. if the jar were far enough away in space the drop would float, as the earth floats, at a point where all pulls balance, and the drop of water would have enough pull of its own, enough gravity within itself to hold all the gas left in the jar to itself as an atmosphere. it would be a centre of energy, a minature world. "the drop of water is not a homogenous mass. about one third of the bulk of the drop of water is made up of independent oxygen and hydrogen atoms interspersed through it, as any liquid is through this piece of blotting paper. and it has, and keeps, by its own attraction, an atmosphere of the gas. each molecule of water has a thin layer, or skin, of the gas; even as it comes from this faucet. "let us return again to the physical dust, the atom. why should it form by fives for iron, by nines for hydrogen? where did the atom come from? what is it? we know that like the drop of water, it is a miniature world with an atmosphere of ether; and the natural inference is that it is made from ether as the drop of water was made from gas. many things confirm this inference, and it may be accepted as 'a working hypothesis' that it is made from ether as the drop of water is made from gas, by the chemical union of a large amount of ether of different kinds, the etheric molecules of which consist of and or and etheric atoms, and that the tendency to combine in this or that number in physical matter is an inherited tendency brought with it from the etheric world of matter on which, or in which, each element of this world is two or more. there is no kind of matter in this physical world, that has not its prototype in the etheric, and the laws of its action and reaction here are laws which it inherits and brings with it. they are not laws made here. they are laws of the other world--even as the matter itself is matter of the other world. "in , professor lodge, in a lecture before the royal institution on 'the luminiferous ether' defined it as: "'one continuous substance, filling all space, which can vibrate as light, which can be sheared into positive and negative electricity, which in whirls constitutes matter, and which transmits by continuity and not impact every action and reaction of which matter is capable.' "this reads today like baby-talk but at that time (eighteen years ago), it was considered by many timid conservative scientists as 'a daring movement.' it is noteworthy in that it was the first public scientific announcement that the physical matter is a manifestation or form of the ether. and it was made before general acceptance of the division of the ether into soniferous, luminiferous and tangiferous. "'which in whirls constitutes matter.' professor lodge believed that 'some etheric molecules revolved so rapidly on their axis that they could not be penetrated.' watch the soap-bubbles that i am blowing. each and every one is revolving as the earth revolves, from west to east. what i wish to call your attention to is the fact that can be proven, both mathematically and theoretically, that at a certain rate of speed in the revolution they could not be penetrated by any rifle-ball. at a higher rate of speed they would be harder than globes of solid chilled steel, harder even than carbon. professor lodge believed that the etheric molecule revolved so rapidly that, thin as it was in its shell, it gave us the dust out of which worlds were made. there is one fatal error in this idea, although it is held even now by many. it is based entirely on gravity, and gravity is alone considered in its problems. there are two great forces in the universe, not one, as many scientific people fail to remember --gravity and apergy, or the centrifugal and centripetal forces. the pull in is and must be always balanced by the pull out. there is in the universe as much repulsion as attraction, and the former is a force quite as important as the latter. the bubble's speed kept increasing until apergy, the tendency to fly off, overcame gravity, and it ruptured. "professor lodge failed to take into account this apergic force, this tendency to fly off, when he gave such high revolutionary speed to the etheric molecules, a speed in which apergy would necessarily exceed gravity. the failure to take apergy into consideration has been the undoing of many physicists. "today we know that the ether is matter, the same as our own, only finer and rarer and in much more rapid vibration. we know that this ether has its solids, liquids and gases formed from molecules of its atoms, even as our own are formed. we know that its atoms combine as ours do, and while we have but eighty elementary combinations, it must have more than double the number. we know that every form and shape and combination of these elements from this plane flows from inherited tendencies having their root in the etheric world. "the two worlds are one world--as much at one with ours as the world of gas about us is at one with our liquids and solids. it is 'continuity, not impact.' they not only touch everywhere and in everything, but they are one and the same in action and reaction." thus spake a certain wise teacher of physics. to his wise utterances, we can only add that such as we are today "we see through a glass, darkly." yet there will come a day when the physical bandages will be removed from our eyes, and we shall see face to face the beauty and grandeur and glory of this invisible world, and that in truth it 'transmits by continuity and not impact every action and reaction of which matter is capable,' forming one continuous chain of cause and effect, without a link missing. there are no gulfs to cross; no bridges to be made. it is here; not there. it is at one with us. and we are at one with it. one and the same law controls and guides the etheric atom and the physical atom made from its molecules, whether the latter are made in "whirls," as at first supposed, or by orderly combination as now believed. in fact, this visible world of ours is the perfect product of the other invisible one, having in it its root and foundation, the very sap of its life. chapter five the four manifested planes the oriental idea of the universe does not differ fundamentally in its general conception, from that of modern science, but it goes farther and explains more. the physics of the secret doctrine are based upon a material universe of four planes of vibration and a spiritual universe of three planes of vibration beyond matter. this something in vibration may be given the english name, consciousness--without entering upon its nature. spirit is consciousness in vibration and undifferentiated. matter is consciousness in vibration and differentiated. as we divide the seven octaves of a piano into treble and bass for clearness of thought and writing, so the hidden knowledge divides the seven octaves of vibration, or planes, into spirit and matter. in their ultimate analysis they are one and the same thing, as ice and water are the same thing; but for study they must be differentiated. the material and physical universe consists of four planes of matter, or four great octaves of vibration, each differentiated from the other as in our physics prakriti is differentiated from ether. the material universe, the ancient physics teach, was originally pure thought, manasa, the product of the spiritual planes above. this manasic world was differentiated, a real world. that is to say it was given elementary substances by the union of its atoms in different sized molecules. some of its elements combined and formed prana. the prana gathered and formed other worlds, pranic worlds. then in the pranic world etheric worlds were formed; and finally in the etheric worlds, prakritic globes like the earth were formed. the earth is the centre of a prakritic globe, revolving in ether around the sun. the sun is the centre of a solar globe of ether, revolving in prana around alcyone. alcyone is the centre of a stellar globe of prana revolving in manasa around the central and hidden sun of the great manasic globe. these four conditions of matter prakriti, ether, prana, and manasa are the earth, water, fire, air of the ancient metaphysics, the four elements of matter, and are present in every atom of prakriti. when the atom of prana was formed, it had an envelope of manasa. when the atom of ether was formed it had an envelope of pranic-manasic atoms. when the prakritic atom was formed it had an envelope of etheric-pranic- manasic atoms, each of its encircling etheric atoms being the centre of a pranic molecule, and each pranic atom of that molecule being the centre of a manasic molecule. each atom of prakriti was the material universe in miniature. it held the potentialities of mind, life, and phenomena. in every aggregation of atoms, there were the four planes, each in touch through the cosmic mind, its manasa, with other atoms in the universe, with every other globe of whatever kind. "as above, so below," was the secret key-word. the unity of all the material universe in its prakriti, ether, prana and manasa, was the corner stone of this knowledge. the three planes above prakriti were called astral, and in common speech there was the ordinary division into two planes, visible and invisible, or "spirit," as the invisible was called, and "matter," as the visible was called. only in the hidden secret doctrine of physics, and in the open metaphysics which were a "stumbling block" and "foolishness" to those who had not the "inner light" of the physics, were the three divisions of the "astral" made known, and the true distinction between the spirit of the three higher planes and the matter of the four lower was kept out of the metaphysics, or only vaguely alluded to. there is no "oriental science" because the oriental does not attach the same value to merely physical knowledge that we do. but that must not be understood to imply that there is no oriental physics. in all the matters that interest us now, as far as principles are concerned, the oriental knew all that we know. he knew it thousands of years ago, when our ancestors were sleeping with the cave bears. "that is all the good it did him," the scientist says. no. that is not true. it is perfectly true that the oriental, the babylonian who carved on the black stone now in the british museum the five moons of jupiter, exposing himself to the derision of our astronomers prior to their own discovery of the fifth moon in , did not care particularly whether there were four moons or five, and had no sale for any telescopes he might make, for no one else cared particularly. but it was not true that he did not care for any and all knowledge that would improve his spiritual condition by giving him correct ideas of the universe and of his own part in it. to him life was more than meat and the body more than raiment. he was more afraid of sin than of ignorance. we are more afraid of ignorance than of sin. he preferred to better men's moral condition; we prefer to better their physical condition. if one of the sages of the east could be called up and put on the stand to be questioned, he would say, substantially: "you are right in regard to your ether, and to prakriti being ether that has been dropped a great octave in vibration. your physical atom is surrounded by a molecule of ether, this molecule containing many atoms of ether. the chording vibration does produce all physical phenomena. "but where did the ether atom come from? how can you explain how and whence life comes, or what it is? this explains physical, but how do you explain vital phenomena? "you are wrong in assuming that all the matter of the universe apart from the earth or planets is ether and only ether. the etheric world in which you are interested ends with your solar system. it ends with each solar system, to the people of that system. between each solar system and another there is another form of matter that is not ether. "this etheric solar world of ours is very large, many billions of miles in diameter; but it is not the whole universe. you know that the sun and all its planets are revolving around the star alcyone. your astronomers told you that years ago, and they have recently given you the rate of speed as , miles per hour. "did you not see and know that if they had this revolution around a central sun it must be within a solar globe? "did you think that the sun and its planets, and other suns and their planets, were tearing their way through the ether like so many fish on a dipsy-hook from a marblehead fishing smack running before the wind? "did it never occur to you that the ether of this solar system must be revolving around this central sun? the whole solar system, ether and planets, are revolving around alcyone, and the reason why their minor revolution around the sun is not affected by it is because the solar system is a vast globe of ether, having a thinner and rarer medium to revolve in, the same as our earth has. it is the motion of a fly in a moving car. "now fix your attention on this globe of ether, this solar globe. you must do it to get the concept before you. you have known of it all your life without once really apprehending it, for you have never learned to think, or to utilize the knowledge that was given you. the idea is as new and as strange as if you had never known it. "what lies beyond the surface of the solar globe? something must; something as much rarer and thinner than the ether as the ether is rarer and thinner than prakriti. can you not guess? "it is prana, the life force of the universe. as prakriti is made from ether, so ether is made from prana. it is made in the same way. each atom of the ether is the centre of a molecule of prana, surrounded by an atmosphere of pranic atoms, exactly as your prakritic atom is surrounded by an atmosphere of etheric atoms. you say that each atom of prakriti is the centre of a molecule of ether. so it is. but each atom of that etheric molecule is the centre of a pranic molecule. each atom of your physical matter is triple, not double. "you say that all physical phenomena come from the chording vibration of the etheric and prakritic atoms of the two planes of matter. yes. but do you not see that all vital phenomena come from the chording vibration of the pranic, etheric, and prakritic atom of the three planes of matter which are in each atom? "in the living leaf the three planes are sounding in chord in each atom of it. in the dead leaf, drying up and falling to pieces, only the lower two are sounding in chord. the silver chord has been broken. "each atom of prakriti you say has the potentiality of some kind of phenomenon. we add 'and of life also.' the potentialities of life are in every atom of prakriti. even the atom of iron may live in the blood. it cannot become a part of any living organism until its prana is sounding the chord of life in unison with the ether and prakriti--the threefold silver chord. "what is the centre of this prana? it is alcyone. there are other solar globes beside ours circling around alcyone, and we have been considering only our own solar globe of ether. alcyone is the centre of the prana in which they revolve as the sun is the centre of our ether in which the planets revolve. as this prana has a centre around which we revolve with other solar systems, then it must have a center of gravity. "then this prana is a globe. "the prana does not then fill this material universe. there must be yet another form of matter rarer and finer than prana, from which prana is made, as ether is made from prana and prakriti from ether. have we any other class of phenomena to explain, except vital and physical? yes, there is a very important class, mental. and here we have the explanation, if we exercise our reason. "these pranic globes are floating in an ocean of manasa, matter in its rarest form. "each atom of prana is formed from manasa, exactly as ether was formed from prana, and each pranic atom in the universe is the centre of a manasic molecule, having an atmosphere of manasic atoms. "so we are not exact in giving the prakritic atom three planes or octaves of vibration. it has four. you merely surround it with etheric atoms, and this is correct so far as it goes. you only wish to explain physical problems. but there are other problems to be explained, problems of life and mind, and the same knowledge you have explains them as well as the others, if you simply avail yourself of it. that you do not consider the atom as four-fold instead of two-fold is your own fault. i have not told you anything you did not already know. i have only asked you to apply your present knowledge of physics to these problems of life and mind, and apply your reasoning powers. "the chording vibration in an atom of matter of "the two planes produces force, or phenomena "the three planes produces life--the silver chord "the four planes produces mind--the golden chord. "you say there is no gulf between the prakritic and etheric worlds; that it is one continuous world; and all its phenomena are by continuity and not impact. that is true, but it is not the whole truth. "there is no gulf to cross between the prakritic and etheric worlds; none to cross between that and the manasic. the four worlds are one great world, continuous, interchangeable. through the four as well as through the two, there is continuity and not impact. whether it is an atom or a world, the four are there. nothing, no combination of atoms, no matter of any kind, however small or large, can exist in this prakritic world unless it has the four elements, which from time immemorial our philosophers have called earth, water, fire, air, meaning the four globes or forms of matter in the universe. we do not have to leave the earth to live in the etheric globe. it is here. nor do we have to go millions of miles to reach the pranic globe. it is here. the problems of light and heat are no easier than the problems of birth and death. the pranic globe is within us; within everything. so is the manasic. "it is here on these higher planes that the chances for worthy study are greatest. at least we think so, though you may not. we live on the manasic--pranic--etheric globe on precisely the same terms that we live on this of prakriti, and the problems of the three are equally open to us. "if there are any who care to follow up the line of thought i have opened, who care for the questions that interest us of the east, i will talk as long as they care to listen, provided they will not ask for knowledge that will give them power over others, which cannot fail to be used for evil." this is but a glimpse of hindu physics, yet it has helped us in the metaphysics. we now understand the chain of globes--in part. the earth is fourfold. as each atom of the earth is fourfold, so their aggregations give us prakritic earth, an etheric earth, a pranic earth, and a manasic earth--in coadunition and not like the skin of an onion. they are separate and distinct globes, each on its own plane. it is four down and three up for the angel entering matter, whether from the outmost boundary of manasic matter, or the surface of the earth, or the cover of a baseball. the "chain of globes" in the secret doctrine represents the unity of the material universe. the three-fold nature of the astral model is revealed, and the unity of all prakritic things. but more than that, to many minds, will be the explanation it gives of why there are but four planes of vibration in matter; that the highest form of development in prakriti shows only four elements, prakriti or body, sensation or force, life, and mind, and that these last three, present in all things in esse, become present in posse when they work together harmonically. chapter six our place on earth the next time our wise man from the east was asked to "say a few words and make his own topic," he spoke, perhaps, as follows: "how large do you think the earth is? you answer promptly, , miles in diameter. you are as far out of the way as you were in supposing that our sun could be a centre of gravity of a lot of planets revolving around it and around alcyone without being a globe of ether. now that it has been mentioned, you see very clearly for yourself that it must be a solar globe of ether. it follows from one of your physical axioms. when i tell you why the earth is and must be about fifty thousand miles in diameter, you will see that it must be so, and that you knew it all the time, but never stopped to formulate your knowledge. you have had the knowledge for three centuries without applying it. "it was in that your greatest astronomer, john kepler, announced as one of three harmonic laws by which the universe was governed, that the squares of the times of the planets were proportional to the cubes of their distances from the sun; and that this law was true in physics and everywhere. no one of your scientists has had the wisdom to study out what it meant, and for three centuries, for years, you have repeated his words like so many parrots, instead of using the key he gave you to unlock the mysteries of the universe. a corollary of his law is that the planets move in their orbits because they are impelled thereto between the two forces, and move in a mean curve between them; but it was not until that you discovered that the mean between two forces is always a curve and never a straight line. you have not a text book in a school today that does not repeat this fundamental and absurd error--which you have known for three centuries to be an error--that the motion resulting from a mean between forces is "in a straight line." the curves resulting here are not to be measured easily, and are so large that small segments appear straight lines; and it was not until carpenter demonstrated it mathematically that any one could believe it true. "there are two great forces in this universe. your grandfathers called them centripetal and centrifugal forces; your fathers called them gravity and apergy, names which still cling to them; and you call them attraction and repulsion. "it was kepler, not newton, who discovered that attraction or gravity was in inverse proportion to the square of the distance. "you know the meaning of this mystic phrase, 'as the squares of the distance.' you understand that it means the attraction at two feet is only one-fourth the attraction at one foot; at four feet only one-sixteenth; at eight feet, only one sixty-fourth. "but who knows or cares for kepler's great law of repulsion, or apergy? that was that the 'square of the times are as the cubes of the distance.' it has lain fallow for centuries. no one of your western physicists has ever studied it, or tried to explain it. it remains just where kepler left it, as the mere law of orbital revolution of the planets only. "it is the key to the proper understanding of the universe. "'the squares of the times are as the cubes of the distance' means that all motion is the result of two forces acting upon prakriti, and that where the two forces are balanced, or equal, the result in motion is a circle or ellipse, the square of the repulsion being equal to the cube of the attraction to make them equal and produce a circle. in other cases they produce hyperbola and parabola. "this is a little dry--nearly all fundamental knowledge is--but the reward of patience is great. "the orbital speed of the earth is about , miles per hour. the attraction of the sun exactly equals the repulsion created by the motion; more accurately, the speed created by the repulsion. the result of the two forces working together at exact balance is a circle. an ellipse is a circle bent a little, and the ellipse in which the earth actually moves comes from varying attraction and repulsion. kepler's second law covers that. "if the orbital speed of the earth were a mile less per hour, or even a foot less, then the earth would wind up around the sun as a dog gets wound up with his chain around a tree. if this speed were a mile more per hour, then the earth would wind out, each year getting farther and farther away, until finally it would be lost. when the speed is exactly proportional to the pull--that is, when it is as . is to ,--the result is a circular orbit, the eccentricity of which is caused by certain fluctuations in the attraction and repulsion. "suppose a planet were to be placed so that it would have a time of two years. its distance from the sun would be . that of the earth. why? because to get the time doubled we would have to take the square root of ; and to get the distance the cube root of the same number, . if you wish to be very exact the cube root is . , but . is near enough for all ordinary work. "if you wanted to find out the distance of a planet revolving in six months you would divide the earth's distance by . . "in proportion you get any time or distance you may desire with absolute accuracy. the distance of any planet from the sun gives its time, or its time gives its distance--when that of any of the others is known. this law applies throughout the universe; in everything and everywhere. it is not a law of orbital revolution alone, but a law of all motion. "our moon has a time of days and a speed of about , miles per day. if the speed were greater it would leave us, if less it would wind up, falling to the earth in the form of a spiral. "at what distance would it have to be to have a time of fourteen days? divide , miles by . . a seven-day moon, would be . that distance. and the exact distance for a one-day moon, for a moon that would always be in the same place in the heavens, moving as the earth revolved on its axis, would be about , miles. "this gives us the line of -hour axial rotation, the true surface of the earth, and the sheer-line of prakritic matter. beyond that line is the ether; within that line is prakriti. "it is the line of no weight, where gravity and apergy exactly balance. inside that line gravity exceeds apergy and everything revolving in less time, or that time, must fall to the centre. it is the true surface of any -hour globe of this size and weight. a moon to revolve around the earth in less than one day must move faster than the earth to develop enough apergy to overcome the attraction. that phenomenon we see in the moons of mars, which are within its atmosphere; within the planet itself. "we of the east learned this true size of the earth over six thousand years ago, from observing the moons of jupiter. the times of the first three are doubled. we asked ourselves what this meant and found that their distance was increased by the cube root of when their times were increased by the square root of ; that time was to distance as . was to . then we applied the key, and found it unlocked many mysteries. "the first lesson this taught us was that we did not live on the earth, but within the earth, at the line of liquid and gaseous changes, where the three forms of matter meet and mingle and interchange with each other. we lived at the bottom of a gaseous ocean , miles above us, and , miles from the centre of the globe. it gave us an entirely new conception of the earth, and of our place in it. "we saw that we lived in a narrow belt, or skin, of the earth, not more than miles thick, perhaps not more than ten miles. within this belt the prakritic elementary substances varied their condition, combined, and made forms by increasing or decreasing vibration. it was the creative and destructive zone, the evolutionary "mother"--the liquid level of the prakriti--the seat of all physical phenomena. fifty miles above, the masses of nitrogen and oxygen and argon were too cold to change their rate of vibration. fifty miles below the surface of the earth all things were too hot for changes in vibration. in this kinetic belt, between two static masses our bodies had been made, and also, in all probability, all combinations of the elementary substances. it was four thousand miles to the centre of the static prakritic mass beneath us; twenty-one thousand miles to the surface of the static prakritic mass above us, and the small kinetic belt between was only one hundred miles thick. but we had one consolation, the prakriti we had was all kinetic, and the best in the whole mass. "the second lesson it taught us was that as the earth had been made in the etheric globe, in a corresponding skin or plane of kinetic etheric energy, with our ether the best of the solar output, that we ourselves were subject through our ether to the phenomena of that kinetic solar plane in precisely the same way we now are to the phenomena of the kinetic prakritic plane. once rid of the fallacious notion that we were creatures of the surface of the earth, once clearly conscious that we were creatures of the interior, of the bottom of this gaseous ocean, then we could understand not only how the earth could be created in this etheric globe, but how we could be creatures of the solar globe living on it. "when we learned that lesson, and learned it well, it dawned upon us that we were living in the pranic globe at the same kinetic level or plane of that globe, the line where its solids and liquids and gases mingled and passed from one state to another, the kinetic belt in which our solar globe has been made, and that we were living as truly on that globe as we were on this prakritic globe. our position on each globe was the same. "and then the great truth came that we lived in the manasic globe, at the same kinetic level; and that we lived our lives on the four globes simultaneously. our bodies are fourfold. every atom is fourfold, ready to respond in our minds to the vibrations of the manasic world, in our vitality to the pranic vibrations of the pranic world, in our nerves to the etheric vibrations of the etheric world, and in our prakriti to vibrations of the prakritic world. each one of our bodies lived on its own earth globe, for there were four globes of this earth--in coadunition--in its corresponding kind of globe. "the four earth globes became one globe, as our four bodies were one body; and the chain of four kinds of globes in matter became one globe, as the manasic with the others on it. "these four kinds of globes were the beginning and the end of matter, as we distinguish and know matter. they were not the end of vibration; or of planes of vibration; or of realms beyond this material universe; but they were the limits of all that is common to each and every atom of this lower plane of vibration. "it is upon this solid and perfect foundation of physics, that accounts for and explains every kind of phenomena, we have constructed our metaphysics. all that belongs to these four lower planes we consider and treat as physics. all that relates to the planes beyond we consider metaphysics. can you teach a child equation of payments before he knows the first four rules? you would not attempt such a task. the first four rules are the physics of arithmetic; all beyond is the metaphysics of arithmetic. it flows out of them. can you comprehend our system of metaphysics until you have clearly and completely mastered our physics? would you not get into a fog at the very start? "there can be no system of metaphysics without a solid foundation of physics. the idea is unthinkable. the one grows out of the other. it is its life; its fruit, its flower. "you have no western system of physics. your physics are without form and void; patchwork, constantly changing. there is no substantial foundation for any system of metaphysics. what you say or do in physics is fragmentary or chaotic. "it is perfectly true, so far as you have gone through the first invisible world of ether, you are much more masters of detail than we are. "we have not cared particularly for the minor details by which explosives are made, or metals obtained from oxides. we have preferred to push on into realms beyond as fast as we could, seeking first the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness, knowing that when it was found all these things would be added unto us." chapter seven the four globes that we live in the earth, not on the earth, is one of the most important of the facts of eastern physics in the study of its metaphysics. the mathematical and physical proof that the physical earth is , miles in diameter should not be passed over lightly in our haste to get on, for the perfect understanding of all this fact implies makes easy the comprehension of how we live etherically in the solar etheric globe, of how we live pranically in the stellar pranic globe, and how we live manasically in the manasic globe. as we live within the narrow "skin" of phenomena, not more than miles thick, of this prakritic globe, with the whole earth within the corresponding skin of phenomena of the solar etheric globe, within the kinetic belt in which it was made, the ether which surrounds each prakritic molecule is not merely any and every kind of ether, but that particular kind of kinetic ether, which, by changing its rate of vibration through an octave, creates phenomena. the ether of all prakritic matter belongs to the kinetic or creative belt of the solar etheric globe. it is not static ether. the ether in our prakriti is in touch with all the prakritic kinetic ether of the solar globe, subject to all solar laws of change; and all our prak-solar laws of change; and all our prakritic matter, a mere detail of it, is a part of the solar phenomena. "our father, the sun," or "dyaus pitar" ("heavenly father"--latin, jupiter) meant more once than it does now. then the solar globe was the first heaven, and to live under its laws, puttings off the coat of skin, was an object which men believed to be worth striving for. they recognized, as we do not, that our prakritic laws were not all they had to obey; that the higher law of the solar globe on which they lived, of which the lower prakritic laws were merely an outcome and detail, was worthy of the closest study. and they recognized that these higher laws of the etheric globe were metaphysical as well as physical; that our moral law flows out of the moral law of the solar etheric world, as our physics flow from and out of solar physics. religion is correct in its assumption of this higher law of morals; incorrect only in its grasp and explanation. science is correct in holding only in its assumption that it is physical science; incorrect only in its assumption that it is physical science of this plane and globe only. there is no quarrel between science and religion when the full knowledge of one stands beside the full knowledge of the other. they are twin-sisters. this solar-etheric globe in which we are interested revolves around alcyone within that kinetic belt or skin of prana which is subject to phenomena or vibration through one octave--else it would never have been formed. all prana in the solar-etheric globe is of this particular kind of kinetic prana, which creates life of all kinds--which is subject to vibration through one octave. the solar globe is a detail of kinetic prana only, one of its phenomena. necessarily, all our prana is of this kinetic kind, and our earth a minor detail of it in the alcyone globe. all the changes and combinations possible in kinetic prana on the pranic globe are possible here, in our kinetic prana, as all the phenomena of the etheric world are possible here in our kinetic ether. as our earth is a globe of ether and a globe of prana as well as a globe of prakriti; we are actually living on a small "cabbage" of that pranic globe, and subject to all its laws. in the vast manasic globe that includes this whole material universe there is the same kinetic belt or skin of "phenomena" or vibration similar to that kinetic belt in which we live on the earth, and the manasa which permeates the alcyonic globe, the solar globe, and the earth is that kinetic manasa which is involving and evolving. this involving and evolving kinetic manasa of the alcyonic globe is that which surrounds every atom of ether of the solar globe and every atom of prakriti of this earth globe. in the great manasic globe this earth of ours is a minute village of helios (sun) county, in the state of alcyone. we are actually and literally living in this manasic globe precisely as we live in this earth, and as in the village we are subject to all the laws of the manasic world, we can study them here in this village as well as we could elsewhere. we can study them as easily as we study our prakritic village laws, or our etheric county laws, for all the forms of manasa subject to them anywhere are here with us. we are not limited to a study of the prakritic laws of the village fathers, nor yet to the etheric laws of the supervisors of helios county, as scientists say, nor even to the state laws of alcyone; only the manasic laws of the universe limit our material studies in that direction. as some men on this earth never leave their native village and never know or care for any matters outside of it, so in this little earth village, in the kinetic belt of the manasic globe, there are men who do not care to know anything which relate to matters outside its boundaries. as some men may pass the boundaries of their village, but not of their county, caring only for the matters concerning it, so the western scientists of this earth village on the manasic globe do not pass the boundaries of helios county, caring only for etheric matters. the philosophers and wise men of the east are broader minded and from time immemorial have taken greater interest in the pranic affairs of alcyone and the manasic condition of the universe in which alcyone is a state than in the rustic murmur of their village or the gossip of their county. there is nothing lacking in our manasic earth-village, nothing that is in more abundant measure in our county, state, and nation. we are of the best. we of this village may imagine, if we like, that there is nothing beyond the village limits, and nothing in it but that which relates to the village. we have the right to be silly, if we wish to be. and it is no sign of wisdom to say that there is a county beyond, but that the county boundaries end all, and only village and county politics may be studied. the european who believed--no asiatic or african or american could have believed --that the earth rested on an elephant and the elephant on a turtle was wise, in comparison. nor is it any sign of intelligence to say that we may learn something of the village and county while we live, but that to learn anything about the state and nation we must wait until we are dead. there are too many in the village who are familiar with both state and nation, and who have studied their laws, for this to be anything but idiotic. chapter eight the battle ground each and every one of our eighty-odd elementary substances owe their condition--whether solid, liquid, or gas--to their rate of vibration. we have reduced all gases to a liquid and nearly all to a solid form. conversely, we have raised all solids to a liquid and nearly all to a gaseous condition. this has been done by reducing or raising the vibration of each within one octave --each one of the eighty odd having a special octave, a tone or half-tone different from any other. normally, the solids, vibrating in the lower notes, gather together under attraction; while the gases, vibrating in the higher notes, diffuse under repulsion. between them, created by the interchange of these two forces, is our "skin" of phenomena, or kinetics. broadly, the attraction of the universe comes from its vibration at certain centres in the three higher notes; the repulsion comes from its vibration everywhere else in the three higher notes. the central note, d of the scale, represents the battle ground between the field of kinetics. this in simple illustration is water turning into gas. this is the great battle ground, the only one worth considering in a general view. there are minor "critical stages" which the chemist studies, but for us, in this broad sketch of the universe, the important battle-ground is that between solid and liquid on one side representing gravity, and gas on the other, representing apergy. all the solids and liquids of this earth of ours gather at the centre, in a core, each of the elements (or their combinations) in this core vibrating in their three lower notes, producing the attraction, which is "in proportion to the mass" and which decreases from the surface of the core "as the square of the substance." around this central core gather all the elements vibrating in the three higher notes of their octave as gases, producing repulsion which increases by . for each doubled time. it is worth while making this clear. it has never before appeared in print. let the amount of apergy, or repulsion, or centrifugal force at the surface of the earth be represented by x. this is the result of motion at the rate of , miles per hour. make this motion , miles per hour, and the apergy is increased . . four thousand miles above the surface of this earth the rotation is at the rate of , . it is the globe of , miles in circumference revolving in hours, and the speed is doubled. this apergy has increased by . . as the apergy increases at this rate every time the speed is doubled, at a distance of , miles the speed is , miles per hour and the centrifugal force has been increased nearly four times what it was at the surface of the ocean. the attraction has been decreased to about one-thirtieth. at the surface it is equal to x. at , miles to one-quarter, or x; at , miles to one-sixteenth, or x; and at , miles to x. if "equatorial gravity is about times that of the equatorial apergy," at the ocean level, then at the distance of , miles from it, in a revolving globe, the two forces would be equal; the "pull" of each being x, and an anchor will weigh no more than a feather, for weight is the excess of gravity or apergy. if the pyramids had been built of the heaviest known material on the gases , miles above us, and so that they should revolve in the same time, , miles per hour, they would remain there. all the attraction of the solid core of the earth that could be exerted on them at that distance would not be enough to pull them an inch nearer to it through our gaseous envelope. their gaseous foundation there would be as firm as igneous rock here. the force of repulsion created by the three higher notes of an octave means just as much at the attraction created by the three lower notes, whether it is in a chemical retort, within this earth, or within this universe. the two forces balance, and are exactly equal. they fight only within kinetic zones. given the vast manasic globe of differentiated matter, its atoms uniting in different numbers to form molecules as the bases of elementary substances, manasic substances, of course. the thrill of vibration is sweeping through it from the spiritual plane above, and the elements (and their combinations) which answer in the lower notes gather and form a core, the invisible central sun, with its attraction. the elements answering in the higher notes gather around it with their repulsion. so the two opposing forces were born, with a vast kinetic skin for a battle-ground between them. the attraction of the invisible central sun manifests itself to us in prakriti as light. the repulsion of its covering, or the higher static vibration of manasa, manifests itself to us as darkness. the first creative act in or on matter was the creation of light and its separation from the darkness. the next creative act was the establishment of a kinetic skin or zone between them, a firmament in which the two forces of light and darkness could strive for mastery. "and god called the firmament heaven." the third creative act was the gathering of the solids and liquids together, and the beginning of the kinetic work in the creation of forms and shapes, by the cross play of the two forces in their combinations of solid with gases. all this had to happen before the manasa combined and dropped in vibration to prana--and before the pranic globes were formed and the light could be manifested to us through them. it may be well to read the first chapter of genesis over and ask forgiveness for our ignorance, from the writer who records this creation of the pranic globes as the fourth act of creation, and the creation of the etheric sun and prakritic moon to follow that. that record is mutilated, fragmentary; but the writer of it knew the facts. if we had the full story, instead of a sentence here and there, taken from an older story not to tell of creation but to hide another tale for the priest, the writer of genesis would laugh last. but let us return to the kinetic skin of energy between light and the darkness--the firmament which god calls heaven--the battle ground for gravity and apergy, or attraction and repulsion, or good and evil, or the powers of light and darkness. this skin is like that of an onion, thickest at the equator and thinnest at the poles--not only on this earth but in the solar, alcyonic, and manasic globes. the equatorial belt, where phenomena are richest in the manasic globes, we call the milky way; in the solar globe we call it the plane of the ecliptic; and on the earth, the tropics. modern science has not yet found it in alcyonic globe--because it has never thought of looking for it. this division of the light from the darkness was all that was required for evolution on the manasic globe within the kinetic belt. this evolution was not confined to the making of a few alcyonic or pranic globes. it was (and is) a great and wonderful evolution beyond words and almost beyond imagination. it is the heaven which mankind has longed to see and know. the writer of genesis mixed it with the creation of this earth, using earthly metaphors. before finding fault, we should better his language. we have not the words in physics to do it, and must wait for our metaphysics. but of one thing we may be sure, that the pranic- alcyonic globes here and there at the "sea level" of the manasic globe--in what god calls heaven--amount to no more on that globe, or in heaven, than so many balls of thistle-down blown across a meadow do on this earth of ours. everything that can be created in thought must be there. it is in thought only, but in thought it is differentiated as sharply as anything in prakriti. the manasic world, the heaven of the bible, is as real as our own world can possibly be; in fact, more real, for when ours is resolved back into its final elements, it will be but "the dust of the ground" of the manasic world. the pranic globes created in this manasic skin by sound, or the logos, or vibration, evolved in identically the same way--with a central static core and an outer static envelope, of low and high vibration in prana, creating attraction and repulsion, or gravity and apergy. the kinetic skin between, in which these forces play in the pranic world, makes a real, not an imaginary pranic world, though but a faint reflection of the manasic. when our father, the central invisible sun, transfers his attraction to these alcyonic suns, the light has something in which to manifest itself, and we "see" this manifesting core and call it alcyone, and its manifestation light; but light in its last material analysis is but the static mind or thought vibrating in the three lower notes of the octave. chapter nine the dual man within the alcyonic globes of differentiated pranic-manasic atoms the vibration divided them also into solid-liquid cores and gaseous envelopes, and a kinetic skin of phenomena. and then a new world--a world of life, came into material existence. all the atoms of thought or manasa, surrounding each and every pranic atom, and making its molecule of energy, so to speak, were that particular kind of kinetic manasa ready to change its rate of vibration within an octave, and the forms prana assumes from the action of thought within the kinetic belt were living and thinking. each pranic globe, which was a small state of product of the manasic, consisted of two globes in coadunition--two in one. each pranic atom was the centre of a manasic molecule and represented the universe. all things were two in one, created by harmonic vibration between them, and existence by the greater strength of the lower notes, or attraction. it was at once less and more wonderful than the manasic world--a specialized form of it. when within this kinetic belt of the prana the etheric solar globes formed here and there, they were three fold, each atom of the new plane of matter having its surrounding envelope of prana- manasa--a specialization of the pranic world in which (what we call) force had been added to life and mind. the static ether, vibrating in each of its elements through one octave, divided into central core (our sun, and other suns) and outer covering, with a skin or belt of kinetic energy, "as above" which developed an etheric world. all things on this etheric world were caused by the harmonic vibration between the etheric atoms and their surrounding envelopes, except that while all things in this etheric world must have life, not all need have mind. the chord of three was not necessary to create; the chord of two was enough, and the manasic atoms might cease to vibrate in chord with the prana and ether without affecting the creation. only in the etheric world (and below it) could there be living mindless ones. to the etheric globes the stellar pranic cores transferred their light, which manifested itself in the solid static ether as attraction and in the gaseous static ether as repulsion, within the kinetic skin of each etheric world more specialized and less varied than the pranic. our sun is not of prakriti, but of static ether, composed of the separate and individual elementary substances of the ether, and their compounds vibrating in the lower notes of their octaves. it is our father, not our elder brother. its envelope of static ether in which the planet revolves is composed of the elementary substances and combinations vibrating in the higher notes of their octave. the light transferred to this etheric globe from its mother, alcyone, manifests itself in the lower vibration of the sun as attraction; in the higher vibrations of its envelope as repulsion, and within the kinetic skin wherein these forces play, the prakritic globes, planets, were born. take our earth. each atom is fourfold--whether of the static core or of the static gaseous envelope. creation on it is limited to the kinetic skin, wherein the attraction of the lower and repulsion of the higher notes in each octave of vibration have full play. all things on it must have come from the chording vibrations of the atoms of the prakritic elementary substances and their envelope of ether. they may or may not have life or mind the ether atom may have lost its chord with its pranic envelope, or the pranic envelope may have lost its chord with the manasic; but the combination must have force or energy within it. it may have lost mind and life in acquiring it, or after acquiring it; but it had to have life before it could become prakriti. all things in the prakritic world flow from the life of the etheric and the mind of the pranic worlds. everything in the etheric world has life, and our unconscious personification or "vivification" of etheric life transferred into fauna or flora, or into force of any kind, has a natural explanation. the thrill of vibration in one octave through the differentiated consciousness of the universe by which the light was separated from the darkness, the lower from the higher, was all that was required to create each star and sun, and world, and all that in them is. and it was all good. each thing on every lower world was but the translation into form of the type of the next world (or plane) above. as each element on this prakritic type, so each combination of those elements into crystal or tree or animal is but the translation. the normal earth from the crystal to (the animal) man was pure, and clean, and holy. sin had not entered. how did it come? on the vast manasic world there was "a special creation"--that of the angel man. the three planes of spirit above were undifferentiated consciousness, but they were in different octaves of vibration, and these working on the three highest forms of differentiated consciousness (manasic matter) brought them to chording vibration so that when they combined and reached their highest point in evolution they "created" the angel (or manasic) man. he was the product in kinetic manasa of the three spiritual planes above him, precisely as the animal man was the product in kinetic prakriti of the three material planes above him. the latter was the "shadow" of the other. the angel-man had a material (manasic) body, but his energy life, and mind were spiritual. the animal man had a prakritic body, with energy, life and mind that were material. so far all was good. the animal man has four bodies--one of prakriti, one of ether, one of prana, and one of manasa. it may be true, and probably is, that his manasic body is not sounding in chord with his prakritic body, but only with those atoms of it which are in his brain and nerves; but that is immaterial--for future consideration. the angel man had but one body, of manasa, in which the spirit dwelt; but that body was identical in substance with the body that made the mind of the animal man. his manasic body joined the manasic body of the animal man, joined with it by entering into the animal man's mind, as easily as water from one glass is added to water in another glass, and the animal "man became a living soul," endowed with speech, while the angel-man was given "a skin coat." the prakritic body of the animal man was the result in prakriti of an etheric-pranic-manasic, or "astral" body, formed in accordance with the universal law. for what he was by nature, he could not be blamed. he stood naked and not ashamed before the radiance. he did not make his astral body; he was the mere translation of it into prakriti, as all other created things were, and that invisible astral self (figuratively) stood at his right hand, moulding and shaping him. but when the angel-man entered his mind, all this was changed. he "knew good from evil." to his mind of manasa had been added the spirit--the atma-buddhi's consciousness of the three spiritual planes. he has become "as one of us," said the angel- men of the firmament, of heaven. he now held the seven planes and was a creator. each thought and desire that, when an animal only, fell harmless, now created on the pranic and etheric world. soon beside him, at his left hand (figuratively) there grew up a second etheric or astral body, that of his desires; and his prakritic body was no longer the product of the astral body on his right hand. it was the joint product of the left-hand kamic astral body he had created, and the right hand normal astral body. he was no longer in harmony with the radiance. he could no longer face it. he had created discord--sin. the pretty legend of the two "angels," one on the right hand and one on the left, has its physical basis in this truth, but, of course, as a matter of actual fact, the normal and abnormal astral bodies are in mechanical union. it is the kamic self-made astral body that remains from one incarnation to another, producing in joint action with a new normal astral body, a new physical body for the inner-self, or angel taking the pilgrimage through the lower world. all the angel-men did not enter the animal men on the pranic etheric-prakritic globes; only a few. it was a pilgrimage through matter in which those who make it are meeting many adventures, but the legends are many, and have no place in the physics, although the legends are all founded on the facts of the physics. of the number of monads, willing to undertake the pilgrimage, only a few of those within the kinetic belt of the manasic globe have reached the pranic. only a few of those within the pranic kinetic belts reached the etheric. and of all who have reached this earth, only a few may win their way back before the great day be-with-us. the problem of man, and his relations to the universe, are an entirely different line of study from that of the spiritual monad, the over-soul of every prakritic atom. each prakritic atom has what may be called a soul, its three-fold astral cause; and an over-soul, or the three-fold spiritual archetype, or causeless cause. every combination of these atoms, whether a knife, a leaf, an animal, an earth, a sun, or a star, has this soul and oversoul. once the idea of what is meant by these terms becomes clear, the difficulty in understanding them vanishes. the study of man is physical in its lower branches; metaphysical only in its highest and last analysis. the study of the monad is metaphysical from start to finish. the two studies are apt to be confused, because metaphysically they are often joined for study, the teacher taking it for granted that the pupil fully understands the simple and easy physics of the problem of humanity. this, in crude and bold outline, is the story of creation to the fall of man according to the ancient physics, translated into the words and phrases of modern physics. the latter, in the latest discoveries of modern science, seem to have stolen a shive from the ancient loaf in the expectation that it would not be detected. each and every step forward that modern science has made in the past twenty years, each and every discovery of every kind in the physical field, has been but the affirmative of some ancient doctrine taught in the temples of the east before "cain took unto himself a wife." chapter ten the septenary world in the physical universe we have the four informing physical globes, so that as a whole or in its parts, it is "a string of seven globes," reaching from the highest spirit to the lowest matter. the awakened universal consciousness in vibration --undifferentiated in the three globes above, differentiated in the four globes below--in its last analysis is all one. but there is a gulf between matter and spirit, radically dividing them, and in the physical universe we are concerned only with physics and physical laws, until we reach its outmost boundaries and come in touch with the spiritual planes beyond. this is the view of the universe at first glance, as in the smaller universe of this earth we at first see only its solid and liquid globes. and even after the discovery of the gas, we do not apprehend its important work in and behind the others until it has been pointed out to us. nor do we at first apprehend the work of the spiritual in the material, and the object of metaphysics is to show, through the physics, the connection between them that the spirit works through matter; that where we can see but four there are seven beads on each material string; and that the last bead of each string is itself a chain of beads, the "chain of seven" applying only to the seventh manifestation, or prakriti, while the "strings" apply to the way in which they come. on each unraveled string leading from our central sun down to a planet there are seven beads corresponding to the seven globes in the chain of each planet, each to each, yet not the same. there is a distinction, and it is no wonder there should have been confusion at first and a mixing of "strings" with "chains." the physics as they progress will clear this confusion away. in the manasic globe, which is the first differentiation of that which forms the spiritual globes above, the resulting mind or manasa is mainly the differentiated divine mind of the highest. it has a "chain" of two globes only, itself and the divine mind globe, although its "string" of globes is four. it is the perfected differentiation of the buddhi in manasa that causes the formation of the pranic globes, which have chains of four and strings of five, and the full and perfect differentiation of the atma in manasa-prana that causes the formation of the etheric globes, which have chains of six and strings of six. consciousness, buddhi and atma are practically the same as the manasa, prana, and ether, each to each, only the latter are differentiated and the former are not. each of the three astral globes is the reflection in matter of the three spiritual globes beyond, each to each, and all to all. the difference between matter and spirit is a difference in motion only. both are vibrating, so that both are in mechanical motion, from force without, like the waves of the ocean, but only the matter has what we may properly call motion of its own, or that produced from within--from the atom and each organism of it up to the all, as the vibration is from the all down to the atom. it is this centre of force in an atom, this motion outside of vibration, or rather beside it, which we call "differentiation." brinton's "daring psychological speculation" that "mind was coextensive with motion" (from organization) was but a repetition of one of the most ancient axioms. take our solar etheric globe. it has two other globes of matter, consubstantial; a globe of prana and a globe of manasa. they are not beyond it, or beside it, but one with it, atom for atom. but what are they in reality? globes of atma, buddhi, and consciousness in which the atoms, having organized, are in motion, are they not? let this motion in this material universe cease, and matter would melt away and resolve into spirit. from spirit it came, to spirit it belongs, and to spirit it returns. behind each and every astral globe, whether the globe be but an astral atom, or an astral planet, or an astral world; beyond its physics there is a meta-physical globe, its cause, and that is the real globe, of which the astral is but a temporary phenomenon. take a spiritual globe and differentiate it. the motion resulting produces a material astral globe. stop the motion; bring it to a state of rest. the astral shadow disappears. it was merely spiritual phenomena. each and every astral atom is a model in miniature of the material and spiritual universe. each and every prakritic atom is the joint result of spirit and matter united and working together--of physics and metaphysics; and in its last analysis pure spirit; pure metaphysics. behind each and every prakritic atom of our earth there are six other atoms (or globes), three material shadows and three spiritual realities, so that it is a string of seven--the whole universe in miniature--material and spiritual. and all things combined and formed on a prakritic base are a chain of seven --whether a peach or a planet. the "chain" belongs to the prakritic plane. the lines of descent from the light through the star and sun to planet are "strings." the "chains" are beads of the same size strung on a thread. the strings are beads of different sizes strung on a thread. the beads of the chain are in coadunition--in the same space, as gas in water and the water in a sponge. in metaphysics this earth can only be regarded as a chain of seven globes, its three astral globes in coadunition having their three spiritual doubles. of course no one of the higher globes can be seen by the prakritic eye, but that is not to say the astral world cannot be seen by the astral eye in sleep, or by the person who qualifies himself for the astral world, through the development of his astral body. "no upper globes of any chain in the solar system can be seen," says h.p. blavatsky in the secret doctrine (vol. i, p. ), yet she means by astronomers, not by sages. and she does not mean the upper globes in the stellar system of alcyone and its companions. in pure physics the earth can only be regarded as a chain of four globes consubstantial and in coadunition--four in and three out. this makes seven, and the metaphysician when talking physics uses the metaphysical terms interchangeably and speaks of "the chain of seven globes" meaning in one sentence the four material globes making this earth; in another meaning the line of descent or string of beads of different sizes reaching down from the divine consciousness; and in still another the seven beads or globes of the same size in coadunition to form this earth chain. to the student who is thoroughly grounded in the eastern physics this interweaving of the physical and metaphysical presents no difficulties; but to the western mind just beginning the study it is a tangle. we can now see what is meant by illusion, or maya, and understand why such stress is laid upon it by every teacher. take the physical side first. the motion of a top gives it bands of color to our eyes that it does not have at rest. they are temporary and not permanent, a result of motion merely; illusion and not reality. the motion of the material atoms of the four planes, in harmony with their vibration, a motion the spiritual world does not have, produces all material phenomena. this is of course within the kinetic belts, for above or below them there is no change, and its phenomena are the mere change in relation of one atom to another caused by motion. the changes are not real. they disappear when the motion stops. they have no existence in matter above or below the belt. all phenomena of every kind are as much an illusion as the supposed bands of colour around the top. the illusion is the result of changes of relation in differentiated atoms caused by their motion. without this motion the four material globes would dissolve into the atomic dust of the manasic world, with all that is within them. the whole material universe is all illusion; a mere temporary relation of its atoms through motion, without reality or permanence. what then is real? what is not illusion? that which is beyond the physical, that which is its cause and root; broadly, the metaphysical, which is not the result of differentiated atoms through relation. what was real in the top is real here. what was illusion in the top is illusion here. the meta-physical or spiritual (the terms are interchangeable) does not have to pass beyond the manasic globe to get on the solid ground of reality. the spiritual world is here in every physical atom and in every aggregation of them; in every planet, sun, and star; for they are seven, each and every one, not four. behind the illusion of one atom or many, whether here or on alcyone, there is reality and permanency in the undifferentiated cause, the spiritual archetype, the three higher beads on the string which are the proper study of metaphysics. chapter eleven stumbling blocks in eastern physics the western student of the ancient eastern physics soon meets serious stumbling-blocks; and one at the very threshold has in the last half century turned many back. in beginning his study of the solar system, the pupil is told: the first three planets--mercury, venus, and the moon--are dead and disintegrating. evolution on them has ceased. the proof of this is found in the fact, that they have no axial rotation, mercury and venus always presenting the same surface to their father, the sun, and the moon the same surface to its daughter, the earth. this is a concrete statement of physical fact at which the western student protests. if in the whole range of western astronomical science there is any one fact that he has accepted as absolutely proved, it is that mercury revolves once in h., m., . s., and venus once in h., m., s. he would as soon credit a statement that the earth has no axial rotation as that mercury or venus has none; and if he continues his study of eastern physics it is with no confidence in its accuracy, and as a matter of curiosity. the statement that mercury, venus, and the moon "are dead and disintegrating," the former two "always presenting the same surface" to the sun, is the basis for an elaborate superstructure, both in the physics and the metaphysics of the east. it is used in physics to explain how the "evolutionary wave" came to an end at the perfection of the mineral on mercury with the loss of its axial rotation; how the "wave" then passed on to venus with the seed of the vegetable kingdom, where the vegetable evolution ended with the loss of axial rotation; how from venus it leaped to the moon, mother of animals and controller of animal life, with the seed of animal life in the vegetable; and how finally it came to the earth, when the moon ceased to revolve, bringing in the animal the seed of man. here man will be evolved and perfected. man has not yet been "born" on this earth, they say. he is still in a prenatal or embryonic condition within the animal. the lunar pitris, the men-seed, have a physical reason for being, if this evolutionary theory be true; none if it is not. axial rotation is necessary in evolution, the ancient physics teaches, which must cease with it. the reasons for this are too lengthy to give here. briefly, the rotation makes the electrical flow and a thermopilic dynamo of each planet. the ancient astronomical teaching is absolutely true. there will not be a work on astronomy published in europe or the united states this year, or hereafter, that will not state that "mercury and venus revolve on their axes in the same time that they revolve around the sun," which is another way of saying that "they have no axial rotation, always presenting the same face to the sun," and an inaccurate way of presenting the truth. the screw that holds the tire at the outer end of the spoke does not revolve "once on its axis" each time the wheel revolves. run a cane through an orange and swing it around; the orange has not revolved "once on its axis." nor does the stone in a sling revolve "once on its axis" for each revolution around the hand. the motion of mercury is identically that of the impaled orange or the stone in the sling. it has no axis and no axial rotation. the modern astronomers, detected in pretenses to knowledge they never possessed, let themselves down easy. this "discovery," of no axial rotation by the interior planets, made by schiaparelli and confirmed by flammarion in , has since been fully verified by our western astronomers. all the new astronomies accept it. but the admission of astronomical "error," to speak politely, comes too late for the student it turned back from his study of eastern physics. he cannot regain his lost faith and lost ground. thirty years ago proctor made it clear to western students that the orbit of the moon was a cycloidal curve (a drawn-out spring) around the sun, the earth's orbit being coincident with its axis; and that the moon was, astronomically and correctly, a satellite of the sun, not a satellite of the earth. this has been the eastern view and teaching from time immemorial. the eastern distinction between father sun and mother moon, and the classification of the latter as a planet, did not disturb the western student. he understood that. it was the "absolute accuracy" of modern astronomers in regard to the length of the day on mercury or venus, which the astronomers declared had been corrected down to the fraction of a second, that made it impossible for him to accept the eastern physics when the latter squarely contradicted his own. this was but the first of many similar stumbling-blocks in the path of the student of eastern physics. "few were the followers, straggling far, that reached the lake of vennachar;" and when they did, this was what they had to face: "the planets absorb and use nearly all the solar energy--all except the very small amount the minor specks of cosmic dust may receive. there is not the least particle of the sun's light, or heat, or any one of the seven conditions of the solar energy, wasted. except for the planets, it is not manifested; it is not. there is no light, no heat, no form of solar energy, except on the planets as it is transferred from the laya center of each in the sun to them. the etheric globe is cold and dark, except along the lines to them--the "paths of fohat" [solar energy]. six laya centers are manifested in the sun; one is laid aside, though the wheels [planets] around the one eye be seven. [this alludes to the moon, whose laya center in the sun is now also that of the earth; but it is considered as a planet]. what each receives, that it also gives back. there is nothing lost." "that settles it," says one student; and the others agree. of the hundred who started, "the foremost horseman rode alone," before the next step was won. in the light of the tardy but perfect justification of the first stumbling-block, this statement may be worth following out, "to see what it means," and how "absurd" it can be. an etheric globe; cold as absolute zero, dark as erebus, with here and there small pencils of light and heat from the sun to the planets --just rays, and nothing more--is a very different one from the fiery furnace at absolute zero of the modern physicist. on a line drawn from the center of the earth to the center of the moon there is a point where the "weights" of the two bodies are said in our physics exactly to balance, and it lies, says our physics, " , miles from the center of the earth, and , miles from the surface." this is the earth's "laya center" of the eastern physics. it is of great importance in problems of life; but it may be passed over for the present. between the earth and the sun--precisely speaking, between this laya center and the sun--there is a "point of balance," which falls within the photosphere of the sun. this point in the sun is the earth's solar laya, the occult or hidden earth of the metaphysics. a diagram will make this clearer. draw a line from the laya center in the sun to that in the earth. draw a narrow ellipse, with this line as its major axis, and shade it. at each end of the axis strike the beginning of an ellipse that will be tangent. if positive energy is along the shaded ellipse, negative energy is in each field beyond--earth and sun. this is a very crude illustration of a fundamental statement elaborated to the most minute detail in explanation of all astronomical phenomena; but for the moment it will do. the point is that along this axial line connecting the laya centers play all the seven solar forces--light, heat, electricity, etc.--that affect the earth, and on every side of this line is the "electric field" of these forces. to this line any escaping solar energy is drawn, as the electricity of the air is drawn to a live wire or magnet. but there is little or none to escape. from the laya point in the sun to the laya point in the earth, the solar energy is transferred as sound is carried along a beam of light (photophone), or electricity from one point to another without a wire. to the advanced student of electricity the ancient teaching is easily apprehended; to others it is difficult to make clear. these laya centers, it says, are "the transforming points of energy." from the earth laya to the solar laya centre, the energy, we may say, is positive; beyond both the solar and the earth laya centre, in the fields touching at them, it is negative --or vice versa. the line connecting the layas is the "path of fohat"--the personification of solar energy. this is a very crude and brief way of putting many pages of teaching, but the important point is that this line between the layas is one of solar energy, with a dynamic "field" of solar energy, elliptical in shape, connecting with the reverse fields at the laya points. these "dead points" are the limits of each electric field, which "create", we say in electrical work, opposing fields beyond them. each one of these planets has its laya centre inside the sun's photosphere. each planet has a line of solar energy with its "field" of solar energy--not only a wireless telegraph, but a wireless lighting, heating, and life-giving system. these six solar laya points are the six "hidden planets," the earth and moon being one, of the ancient metaphysics. the moon is the one "laid aside." in their reception of energy from the sun, it is as if the planet were at the solar laya point, or connected with it by a special pipe-line. the position of these six planetary laya points in the sun is indicated by the position of the planets in the heavens, and they may often influence or modify one another. if mars, jupiter, or saturn is anywhere near conjunction with the earth, not only will a part of their "fields" be joined, but their laya points in the sun will be modified. the physical basis of the old astrology was the physical interferences of these fields of solar energy; and what it depended on mainly in its work was the position of the six hidden planets, or laya centers, which was shown by the position of the planet with reference to the earth. that the planets themselves affected any one or anything on this earth, no real astrologer ever believed; that their position in the heavens indicated certain changes and modifications of the flow of solar energy to the earth, they knew from their knowledge of physics. "the twelve houses are in the sun," says hermes, "six in the north and six in the south." connect them with the zodiac, and the position of the planets shows the interferences of the solar currents. the one objection to this ancient theory is that it does not present enough difficulties. the present value to science of the many theories in relation to the sun is the impossibility of reconciling any two of them, and the fact that no two theorists can unite to pummel a third. this ancient theory does not call for any great amount of heat, light, or energy in any condition to keep the cosmos in order--not even enough for two persons to quarrel over. it merely turns the sun into a large dynamo connected with smaller dynamos, and these with one another with return currents by which "there is nothing lost." in its details, it accounts for all facts--neatly, simply, and without exclamation points. it is so simple and homespun, so lacking in the gaudiness that makes (for example) our light and heat less than the billionth part wasted on space always at absolute zero, that we may have to wait many centuries to have it "verified" and "confirmed" by our western science. that it will be "verified" in time, even as the first stumbling-block has been removed at the end of the nineteenth century, its students may at least hope. the lesson, if there is one, is that the western student of eastern physics does not ride an auto along asphalted roads. he must own himself and not be owned by another man, or even by "modern science." note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) conversations on natural philosophy, in which the elements of that science are familiarly explained. _illustrated with plates._ by the author of conversations on chemistry, &c. with corrections, improvements, and considerable additions in the body of the work; _appropriate questions, and a glossary:_ by dr. thomas p. jones, professor of mechanics, in the franklin institute of the state of pennsylvania. philadelphia: published and sold by john grigg, no. north fourth street. stereotyped by l. johnson. . _eastern district of pennsylvania, to wit:_ be it remembered, that, on the twenty-fourth day of april, in the fiftieth year of the independence of the united states of america, a. d. , john grigg, of the said district, hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: "conversations on natural philosophy, in which the elements of that science are familiarly explained. illustrated with plates. by the author of conversations on chemistry, &c. with corrections, improvements, and considerable additions, in the body of the work; appropriate questions, and a glossary: by dr. thomas p. jones, professor of mechanics, in the franklin institute, of the state of pennsylvania." in conformity to the act of the congress of the united states, entitled "an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned;"--and also to the act, entitled, "an act supplementary to an act, entitled, 'an act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned,' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching, historical and other prints." d. caldwell, clerk of the eastern district of pennsylvania. preface. notwithstanding the great number of books which are written, expressly for the use of schools, and which embrace every subject on which instruction is given, it is a lamentable fact, that the catalogue of those which are well adapted to the intended purpose, is a very short one. almost all of them have been written, either by those who are without experience as teachers, or by teachers, deficient in a competent knowledge of the subjects, on which they treat. every intelligent person, who has devoted himself to the instruction of youth, must have felt and deplored, the truth of these observations. in most instances, the improvement of a work already in use, will be more acceptable, than one of equal merit would be, which is entirely new; the introduction of a book into schools, being always attended with some difficulty. the "conversations on chemistry," written by mrs. marcet, had obtained a well-merited celebrity, and was very extensively adopted as a school-book, before the publication of her "conversations on natural philosophy." this, also, has been much used for the same purpose; but, the observation has been very general, among intelligent teachers, that, in its execution, it is very inferior to the former work. the editor of the edition now presented to the public, had undertaken to add to the work, questions, for the examination of learners; and notes, where he deemed them necessary. he soon found, however, that the latter undertaking would be a very unpleasant one, as he must have pointed out at the bottom of many of the pages, the defects and mistakes in the text; whilst numerous modes of illustration, or forms of expression, which his experience as a teacher, had convinced him would not be clear to the learner, must, of necessity, have remained unaltered. he therefore determined to revise the whole work, and with the most perfect freedom, to make such alterations in the body of it, as should, in his opinion, best adapt it to the purpose for which it was designed. were the book, as it now stands, carefully compared with the original, it would be found, that, in conformity with this determination, scarcely a page of the latter, remains unchanged. verbal alterations have been made, errors, in points of fact, have been corrected; and new modes of illustration have been introduced, whenever it was thought that those already employed, could be improved; or when it was known, that, from local causes, they are not familiar, in this country. the editor feels assured, that, in performing this task, he has rendered the book more valuable to the teacher, and more useful to the pupil; and he doubts not that the intelligent author of it, would prefer the mode which has been adopted, to that which was at first proposed. the judicious teacher will, of course, vary the questions according to circumstances; and those who may not employ them at all, as questions, will still find them useful, in directing the pupil to the most important points, in every page. the glossary has been confined to such terms of science as occur in the work; and is believed to include all those, of which a clear definition cannot be found in our common dictionaries. contents. conversation i. on general properties of bodies. introduction. general properties of bodies. impenetrability. extension. figure. divisibility. inertia. attraction. attraction of cohesion. density. rarity. heat. attraction of gravitation. conversation ii. on the attraction of gravity. attraction of gravitation, continued. of weight. of the fall of bodies. of the resistance of the air. of the ascent of light bodies. conversation iii. on the laws of motion. of motion. of the inertia of bodies. of force to produce motion. direction of motion. velocity, absolute and relative. uniform motion. retarded motion. accelerated motion. velocity of falling bodies. momentum. action and reaction equal. elasticity of bodies. porosity of bodies. reflected motion. angles of incidence and reflection. conversation iv. on compound motion. compound motion, the result of two opposite forces. of curvilinear motion, the result of two forces. centre of motion, the point at rest, while the other parts of the body move round it. centre of magnitude, the middle of a body. centripetal force, that which impels a body towards a fixed central point. centrifugal force, that which impels a body to fly from the centre. fall of bodies in a parabola. centre of gravity, the point about which the parts balance each other. conversation v. on the mechanical powers. of the power of machines. of the lever in general. of the lever of the first kind, having the fulcrum between the power and the weight. of the lever of the second kind, having the weight between the power and the fulcrum. of the lever of the third kind, having the power between the fulcrum and the weight. of the pulley. of the wheel and axle. of the inclined plane. of the wedge. of the screw. conversation vi. astronomy. causes of the motion of the heavenly bodies. of the earth's annual motion. of the planets, and their motion. of the diurnal motion of the earth and planets. conversation vii. on the planets. of the satellites and moons. gravity diminishes as the square of the distance. of the solar system. of comets. constellations, signs of the zodiac. of copernicus, newton, &c. conversation viii. on the earth. of the terrestrial globe. of the figure of the earth. of the pendulum. of the variation of the seasons, and of the length of days and nights. of the causes of the heat of summer. of solar, siderial, and equal or mean time. conversation ix. on the moon. of the moon's motion. phases of the moon. eclipses of the moon. eclipses of jupiter's moons. of latitude and longitude. of the transits of the inferior planets. of the tides. conversation x. hydrostatics. on the mechanical properties of fluids. definition of a fluid. distinction between fluids and liquids. of non-elastic fluids, scarcely susceptible of compression. of the cohesion of fluids. of their gravitation. of their equilibrium. of their pressure. of specific gravity. of the specific gravity of bodies heavier than water. of those of the same weight as water. of those lighter than water. of the specific gravity of fluids. conversation xi. of springs, fountains, &c. of the ascent of vapour and the formation of clouds. of the formation and fall of rain, &c. of the formation of springs. of rivers and lakes. of fountains. conversation xii. pneumatics. on the mechanical properties of air. of the spring or elasticity of the air. of the weight of the air. experiments with the air pump. of the barometer. mode of weighing air. specific gravity of air. of pumps. description of the sucking pump. description of the forcing pump. conversation xiii. on wind and sound. of wind in general. of the trade wind. of the periodical trade winds. of the aerial tides. of sound in general. of sonorous bodies. of musical sounds. of concord or harmony, and melody. conversation xiv. on optics. of luminous, transparent, and opaque bodies. of the radiation of light. of shadows. of the reflection of light. opaque bodies seen only by reflected light. vision explained. camera obscura. image of objects on the retina. conversation xv. optics--_continued._ of the angle of vision, and reflection of mirrors. angle of vision. reflection of plain mirrors. reflection of convex mirrors. reflection of concave mirrors. conversation xvi. on refraction and colours. transmission of light by transparent bodies. refraction. refraction by the atmosphere. refraction by a lens. refraction by the prism. of colour from the rays of light. of the colours of bodies. conversation xvii. on the structure of the eye, and optical instruments. description of the eye. of the image on the retina. refraction by the humours of the eye. of the use of spectacles. of the single microscope. of the double microscope. of the solar microscope. magic lanthorn. refracting telescope. reflecting telescope. glossary, conversation i. on general properties of bodies. introduction. general properties of bodies. impenetrability. extension. figure. divisibility. inertia. attraction. attraction of cohesion. density. rarity. heat. attraction of gravitation. emily. i must request your assistance, my dear mrs. b., in a charge which i have lately undertaken: it is that of instructing my youngest sister, a task, which i find proves more difficult than i had at first imagined. i can teach her the common routine of children's lessons tolerably well; but she is such an inquisitive little creature, that she is not satisfied without an explanation of every difficulty that occurs to her, and frequently asks me questions which i am at a loss to answer. this morning, for instance, when i had explained to her that the world was round like a ball, instead of being flat as she had supposed, and that it was surrounded by the air, she asked me what supported it. i told her that it required no support; she then inquired why it did not fall as every thing else did? this i confess perplexed me; for i had myself been satisfied with learning that the world floated in the air, without considering how unnatural it was that so heavy a body, bearing the weight of all other things, should be able to support itself. _mrs. b._ i make no doubt, my dear, but that i shall be able to explain this difficulty to you; but i believe that it would be almost impossible to render it intelligible to the comprehension of so young a child as your sister sophia. you, who are now in your thirteenth year, may, i think, with great propriety, learn not only the cause of this particular fact, but acquire a general knowledge of the laws by which the natural world is governed. _emily._ of all things, it is what i should most like to learn; but i was afraid it was too difficult a study even at my age. _mrs. b._ not when familiarly explained: if you have patience to attend, i will most willingly give you all the information in my power. you may perhaps find the subject rather dry at first; but if i succeed in explaining the laws of nature, so as to make you understand them, i am sure that you will derive not only instruction, but great amusement from that study. _emily._ i make no doubt of it, mrs. b.; and pray begin by explaining why the earth requires no support; for that is the point which just now most strongly excites my curiosity. _mrs. b._ my dear emily, if i am to attempt to give you a general idea of the laws of nature, which is no less than to introduce you to a knowledge of the science of natural philosophy, it will be necessary for us to proceed with some degree of regularity. i do not wish to confine you to the systematic order of a scientific treatise, but if we were merely to examine every vague question that may chance to occur, our progress would be but very slow. let us, therefore, begin by taking a short survey of the general properties of bodies, some of which must necessarily be explained before i can attempt to make you understand why the earth requires no support. when i speak of _bodies_, i mean substances, of whatever nature, whether solid or fluid; and _matter_ is the general term used to denote the substance, whatever its nature be, of which the different bodies are composed. thus, the wood of which this table is made, the water with which this glass is filled, and the air which we continually breathe, are each of them _matter_. _emily._ i am very glad you have explained the meaning of the word matter, as it has corrected an erroneous conception i had formed of it: i thought that it was applicable to solid bodies only. _mrs. b._ there are certain properties which appear to be common to all bodies, and are hence called the _essential or inherent properties_ of bodies; these are _impenetrability_, _extension_, _figure_, _divisibility_, _inertia_ and _attraction_. these are also called the general properties of bodies, as we do not suppose any body to exist without them. by _impenetrability_ is meant the property which bodies have of occupying a certain space, so that where one body is, another can not be, without displacing the former; for two bodies can not exist in the same place at the same time. a liquid may be more easily removed than a solid body; yet it is not the less substantial, since it is as impossible for a liquid and a solid to occupy the same space at the same time, as for two solid bodies to do so. for instance, if you put a spoon into a glass full of water, the water will flow over to make room for the spoon. _emily._ i understand this perfectly. liquids are in reality as substantial or as impenetrable as solid bodies, and they appear less so, only because they are more easily displaced. _mrs. b._ the air is a fluid differing in its nature from liquids, but no less impenetrable. if i endeavour to fill this phial by plunging it into this bason of water, the air, you see, rushes out of the phial in bubbles, in order to make way for the water, for the air and the water can not exist together in the same space, any more than two hard bodies; and if i reverse this goblet, and plunge it perpendicularly into the water, so that the air will not be able to escape, the water will no longer be able to fill the goblet. _emily._ but it rises some way into the glass. _mrs. b._ because the water compresses or squeezes the air into a smaller space in the upper part of the glass; but, as long as it remains there, no other body can occupy the same place. _emily._ a difficulty has just occurred to me, with regard to the impenetrability of solid bodies; if a nail is driven into a piece of wood, it penetrates it, and both the wood and the nail occupy the same space that the wood alone did before? _mrs. b._ the nail penetrates between the particles of the wood, by forcing them to make way for it; for you know that not a single atom of wood can remain in the space which the nail occupies; and if the wood is not increased in size by the addition of the nail, it is because wood is a porous substance, like sponge, the particles of which may be compressed or squeezed closer together; and it is thus that they make way for the nail. we may now proceed to the next general property of bodies, _extension_. a body which occupies a certain space must necessarily have extension; that is to say, _length_, _breadth_ and _depth_ or thickness; these are called the dimensions of extension: can you form an idea of any body without them? _emily._ no; certainly i can not; though these dimensions must, of course vary extremely in different bodies. the length, breadth and depth of a box, or of a thimble, are very different from those of a walking stick, or of a hair. but is not height also a dimension of extension? _mrs b._ height and depth are the same dimension, considered in different points of view; if you measure a body, or a space, from the top to the bottom, you call it depth; if from the bottom upwards, you call it height; thus the depth and height of a box are, in fact, the same thing. _emily._ very true; a moment's consideration would have enabled me to discover that; and breadth and width are also the same dimension. _mrs. b._ yes; the limits of extension constitute _figure_ or shape. you conceive that a body having length, breadth and depth, can not be without form, either symmetrical or irregular? _emily._ undoubtedly; and this property admits of almost an infinite variety. _mrs. b._ nature has assigned regular forms to many of her productions. the natural form of various mineral substances is that of crystals, of which there is a great variety. many of them are very beautiful, and no less remarkable by their transparency or colour, than by the perfect regularity of their forms, as may be seen in the various museums and collections of natural history. the vegetable and animal creation appears less symmetrical, but is still more diversified in figure than the mineral kingdom. manufactured substances assume the various arbitrary forms which the art of man designs for them; and an infinite number of irregular forms are produced by fractures and by the dismemberment of the parts of bodies. _emily._ such as a piece of broken china, or glass? _mrs. b._ or the masses and fragments of stone, and other mineral substances, which are dug out of the earth, or found upon its surface; many of which, although composed of minute crystals, are in the lump of an irregular form. we may now proceed to _divisibility_; that is to say, a susceptibility of being divided into an indefinite number of parts. take any small quantity of matter, a grain of sand for instance, and cut it into two parts; these two parts might be again divided, had we instruments sufficiently fine for the purpose; and if by means of pounding, grinding, and other similar methods, we carry this division to the greatest possible extent, and reduce the body to its finest imaginable particles, yet not one of the particles will be destroyed, but will each contain as many halves and quarters, as did the whole grain. the dissolving of a solid body in a liquid, affords a very striking example of the extreme divisibility of matter; when you sweeten a cup of tea, for instance, with what minuteness the sugar must be divided to be diffused throughout the whole of the liquid. _emily._ and if you pour a few drops of red wine into a glass of water, they immediately tinge the whole of the water, and must therefore be diffused throughout it. _mrs. b._ exactly so; and the perfume of this lavender water will be almost as instantaneously diffused throughout the room, if i take out the stopper. _emily._ but in this case it is only the perfume of the lavender, and not the water itself that is diffused in the room. _mrs. b._ the odour or smell of a body is part of the body itself, and is produced by very minute particles or exhalations which escape from the odoriferous bodies. it would be impossible that you should smell the lavender water, if particles of it did not come in actual contact with your nose. _emily._ but when i smell a flower, i see no vapour rise from it; and yet i perceive the smell at a considerable distance. _mrs. b._ you could, i assure you, no more smell a flower, the odoriferous particles of which did not touch your nose, than you could taste a fruit, the flavoured particles of which did not come in contact with your tongue. _emily._ that is wonderful indeed; the particles then, which exhale from the flower and from the lavender water, are, i suppose, too small to be visible? _mrs. b._ certainly: you may form some idea of their extreme minuteness, from the immense number which must have escaped in order to perfume the whole room; and yet there is no sensible diminution of the liquid in the phial. _emily._ but the quantity must really be diminished? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly; and were you to leave the bottle open a sufficient length of time, the whole of the water would evaporate and disappear. but though so minutely subdivided as to be imperceptible to any of our senses, each particle would continue to exist; for it is not within the power of man to destroy a single particle of matter: nor is there any reason to suppose that in nature an atom is ever annihilated. _emily._ yet, when a body is burnt to ashes, part of it, at least, appears to be effectually destroyed: look how small is the residue of ashes in the fire place, from all the fuel which has been consumed within it. _mrs. b._ that part of the fuel, which you suppose to be destroyed, evaporates in the form of smoke, and vapour, and air, whilst the remainder is reduced to ashes. a body, in burning, undergoes no doubt very remarkable changes; it is generally subdivided; its form and colour altered; its extension increased: but the various parts, into which it has been separated by combustion, continue in existence, and retain all the essential properties of bodies. _emily._ but that part of a burnt body which evaporates in smoke has no figure; smoke, it is true, ascends in columns into the air, but it is soon so much diffused as to lose all form; it becomes indeed invisible. _mrs. b._ invisible, i allow; but we must not imagine that what we no longer see no longer exists. were every particle of matter that becomes invisible annihilated, the world itself would in the course of time be destroyed. the particles of smoke, when diffused in the air, continue still to be particles of matter as well as when more closely united in the form of coals: they are really as substantial in the one state as in the other, and equally so when by their extreme subdivision they become invisible. no particle of matter is ever destroyed: this is a principle you must constantly remember. every thing in nature decays and corrupts in the lapse of time. we die, and our bodies moulder to dust; but not a single atom of them is lost; they serve to nourish the earth, whence, while living, they drew their support. the next essential property of matter is called _inertia_ or inactivity; this word expresses the resistance which matter makes to a change from a state of rest, to that of motion, or from a state of motion to that of rest. bodies are equally incapable of changing their actual state, whether it be of motion or of rest. you know that it requires force to put a body which is at rest in motion; an exertion of strength is also requisite to stop a body which is already in motion. the resistance of the body to a change of state, in either case, arises from its _inertia_. _emily._ in playing at base-ball i am obliged to use all my strength to give a rapid motion to the ball; and when i have to catch it, i am sure i feel the resistance it makes to being stopped. but if i did not catch it, it would soon fall to the ground and stop of itself. _mrs. b._ matter being inert it is as incapable of stopping of itself as it is of putting itself into motion: when the ball ceases to move, therefore, it must be stopped by some other cause or power; but as it is one with which you are yet unacquainted, we can not at present investigate its effects. the last property which appears to be common to all bodies is _attraction_. all bodies consist of infinitely small particles of matter, each of which possesses the power of attracting or drawing towards it, and uniting with any other particle sufficiently near to be within the influence of its attraction; but in minute particles this power extends to so very small a distance around them, that its effect is not sensible, unless they are (or at least appear to be) in contact; it then makes them stick or adhere together, and is hence called the _attraction of cohesion_. without this power, solid bodies would fall in pieces, or rather crumble to atoms. _emily._ i am so much accustomed to see bodies firm and solid, that it never occurred to me that any power was requisite to unite the particles of which they are composed. but the attraction of cohesion does not, i suppose, exist in liquids; for the particles of liquids do not remain together so as to form a body, unless confined in a vessel? _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon; it is the attraction of cohesion which holds this drop of water suspended at the end of my finger, and keeps the minute watery particles of which it is composed united. but as this power is stronger in proportion as the particles of bodies are more closely united, the cohesive attraction of solid bodies is much greater than that of fluids. the thinner and lighter a fluid is, the less is the cohesive attraction of its particles, because they are further apart; and in elastic fluids, such as air, there is no cohesive attraction among the particles. _emily._ that is very fortunate; for it would be impossible to breathe the air in a solid mass; or even in a liquid state. but is the air a body of the same nature as other bodies? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly, in all essential properties. _emily._ yet you say that it does not possess one of the general properties of bodies--attraction. _mrs. b._ the particles of air are not destitute of the power of attraction, but they are too far distant from each other to be influenced by it so as to produce cohesion: and the utmost efforts of human art have proved ineffectual in the attempt to compress them, so as to bring them within the sphere of each other's attraction, and make them cohere. _emily._ if so, how is it possible to prove that they are endowed with this power? _mrs. b._ the air is formed of particles precisely of the same nature as those which enter into the composition of liquid and solid bodies, in each of which we have a proof of their attraction. _emily._ it is then, i suppose, owing to the different degrees of cohesive attraction in different substances, that they are hard or soft, and that liquids are thick or thin. _mrs. b._ yes; but you would express your meaning better by the term _density_, which denotes the degree of closeness and compactness of the particles of a body. in philosophical language, density is said to be that property of bodies by which they contain a certain quantity of matter, under a certain bulk or magnitude. _rarity_ is the contrary of density; it denotes the thinness and subtilty of bodies: thus you would say that mercury or quicksilver was a very dense fluid; ether, a very rare one. those bodies which are the most dense, do not always cohere the most strongly; lead is more dense than iron, yet its particles are more easily separated. _caroline._ but how are we to judge of the quantity of matter contained in a certain bulk? _mrs. b._ by the weight: under the same bulk bodies are said to be dense in proportion as they are heavy. _emily._ then we may say that metals are dense bodies, wood comparatively a rare one, &c. but, mrs. b., when the particles of a body are so near as to attract each other, the effect of this power must increase as they are brought by it closer together; so that one would suppose that the body would gradually augment in density, till it was impossible for its particles to be more closely united. now, we know that this is not the case; for soft bodies, such as cork, sponge, or butter, never become, in consequence of the increasing attraction of their particles, as hard as iron? _mrs. b._ in such bodies as cork and sponge, the particles which come in contact are so few as to produce but a slight degree of cohesion: they are porous bodies, which, owing to the peculiar arrangement of their particles, abound with interstices, or pores, which separate the particles. but there is also a fluid much more subtile than air, which pervades all bodies, this is _heat_. heat insinuates itself more or less between the particles of all bodies, and forces them asunder; you may therefore consider heat, and the attraction of cohesion, as constantly acting in opposition to each other. _emily._ the one endeavouring to rend a body to pieces, the other to keep its parts firmly united. _mrs. b._ and it is this struggle between the contending forces of heat and attraction, which prevents the extreme degree of density which would result from the sole influence of the attraction of cohesion. _emily._ the more a body is heated then, the more its particles will be separated. _mrs. b._ certainly: we find that bodies not only swell or dilate, but lose their cohesion, by heat: this effect is very sensible in butter, for instance, which expands by the application of heat, till at length the attraction of cohesion is so far diminished that the particles separate, and the butter becomes liquid. a similar effect is produced by heat on metals, and all bodies susceptible of being melted. liquids, you know, are made to boil by the application of heat; the attraction of cohesion then yields entirely to the repulsive power; the particles are totally separated and converted into steam or vapour. but the agency of heat is in no body more sensible than in air, which dilates and contracts by its increase or diminution in a very remarkable degree. _emily._ the effects of heat appear to be one of the most interesting parts of natural philosophy. _mrs. b._ that is true; but heat is so intimately connected with chemistry, that you must allow me to defer the investigation of its properties till you become acquainted with that science. to return to its antagonist, the attraction of cohesion; it is this power which restores to vapour its liquid form, which unites it into drops when it falls to earth in a shower of rain, which gathers the dew into brilliant gems on the blades of grass. _emily._ and i have often observed that after a shower, the water collects into large drops on the leaves of plants; but i cannot say that i perfectly understand how the attraction of cohesion produces this effect. _mrs. b._ rain, when it first leaves the clouds, is not in the form of drops, but in that of mist or vapour, which is composed of very small watery particles; these in their descent mutually attract each other, and those that are sufficiently near in consequence unite and form a drop, and thus the mist is transformed into a shower. the dew also was originally in a state of vapour, but is, by the mutual attraction of the particles, formed into small globules on the blades of grass: in a similar manner the rain upon the leaf collects into large drops, which when they become too heavy for the leaf to support, fall to the ground. _emily._ all this is wonderfully curious! i am almost bewildered with surprise and admiration at the number of new ideas i have already acquired. _mrs. b._ every step that you advance in the pursuit of natural science, will fill your mind with admiration and gratitude towards its divine author. in the study of natural philosophy, we must consider ourselves as reading the book of nature, in which the bountiful goodness and wisdom of god are revealed to all mankind; no study can tend more to purify the heart, and raise it to a religious contemplation of the divine perfections. there is another curious effect of the attraction of cohesion which i must point out to you; this is called capillary attraction. it enables liquids to rise above their ordinary level in capillary tubes: these are tubes, the bores of which are so extremely small that liquids ascend within them, from the cohesive attraction between the particles of the liquid and the interior surface of the tube. do you perceive the water rising in this small glass tube, above its level in the goblet of water, into which i have put one end of it? _emily._ oh yes; i see it slowly creeping up the tube, but now it is stationary: will it rise no higher? _mrs. b._ no; because the cohesive attraction between the water and the internal surface of the tube is now balanced by the weight of the water within it; if the bore of the tube were narrower the water would rise higher; and if you immerse several tubes of bores of different sizes, you will see it rise to different heights in each of them. in making this experiment, you should colour the water with a little red wine, in order to render the effect more obvious. all porous substances, such as sponge, bread, linen, &c. may be considered as collections of capillary tubes: if you dip one end of a lump of sugar into water, the fluid will rise in it, and wet it considerably above the surface of the water into which you dip it. _emily._ in making tea i have often observed that effect, without being able to account for it. _mrs. b._ now that you are acquainted with the attraction of cohesion, i must endeavour to explain to you that of _gravitation_, which is probably a modification of the same power; the first is perceptible only in very minute particles, and at very small distances; the other acts on the largest bodies, and extends to immense distances. _emily._ you astonish me: surely you do not mean to say that large bodies attract each other? _mrs. b._ indeed i do: let us take, for example, one of the largest bodies in nature, and observe whether it does not attract other bodies. what is it that occasions the fall of this book, when i no longer support it? _emily._ can it be the attraction of the earth? i thought that all bodies had a natural tendency to fall. _mrs. b._ they have a natural tendency to fall, it is true; but that tendency is produced entirely by the attraction of the earth: the earth being so much larger than any body on its surface, forces every body, which is not supported, to fall upon it. _emily._ if the tendency which bodies have to fall results from the earth's attractive power, the earth itself can have no such tendency, since it cannot attract itself, and therefore it requires no support to prevent it from falling. yet the idea that bodies do not fall of their own accord, but that they are drawn towards the earth by its attraction, is so new and strange to me, that i know not how to reconcile myself to it. _mrs. b._ when you are accustomed to consider the fall of bodies as depending on this cause, it will appear to you as natural, and surely much more satisfactory, than if the cause of their tendency to fall were totally unknown. thus you understand that all matter is attractive, from the smallest particle to the largest mass; and that bodies attract each other with a force proportional to the quantity of matter they contain. _emily._ i do not perceive any difference between the attraction of cohesion and that of gravitation; is it not because every particle of matter is endowed with an attractive power, that large bodies consisting of a great number of particles, are so strongly attractive? _mrs. b._ true. there is, however, this difference between the attraction of particles and that of masses, that the former takes place only when the particles are contiguous, whilst the latter is exerted when the masses are far from each other. the attraction of particles frequently counteracts the attraction of gravitation. of this you have an instance in the attraction of capillary tubes, in which liquids ascend by the attraction of cohesion, in opposition to that of gravity. it is on this account that it is necessary that the bore of the tube should be extremely small; for if the column of water within the tube is not very minute, the attraction of cohesion would not be able either to raise or support it in opposition to its gravity; because the increase of weight, in a column of water of a given height, is much greater than the increase in the attracting surface of the tube, when its size is increased. you may observe also, that all solid bodies are enabled by the force of the cohesive attraction of their particles to resist that of gravity, which would otherwise disunite them, and bring them to a level with the ground, as it does in the case of a liquid, the cohesive attraction of which is not sufficient to enable it to resist the power of gravity. _emily._ and some solid bodies appear to be of this nature, as sand, and powder for instance: there is no attraction of cohesion between their particles? _mrs. b._ every grain of powder, or sand, is composed of a great number of other more minute particles, firmly united by the attraction of cohesion; but amongst the separate grains there is no sensible attraction, because they are not in sufficiently close contact. _emily._ yet they actually touch each other? _mrs. b._ the surface of bodies is in general so rough and uneven, that when in apparent contact, they touch each other only by a few points. thus, when i lay this book upon the table, the binding of which appears perfectly smooth, so few of the particles of its under surface come in contact with the table, that no sensible degree of cohesive attraction takes place; for you see that it does not stick or cohere to the table, and i find no difficulty in lifting it off. it is only when surfaces, perfectly flat and well polished, are placed in contact, that the particles approach in sufficient number, and closely enough, to produce a sensible degree of cohesive attraction. here are two plates of polished metal, i press their flat surfaces together, having previously interposed a few drops of oil, to fill up every little porous vacancy. now try to separate them. _emily._ it requires an effort beyond my strength, though there are handles for the purpose of pulling them asunder. is the firm adhesion of the two plates merely owing to the attraction of cohesion? _mrs. b._ there is no force more powerful, since it is by this that the particles of the hardest bodies are held together. it would require a weight of several pounds to separate these plates. in the present example, however, much of the cohesive force is due to the attraction subsisting between the metal and the oil which is interposed; as without this, or some other fluid, the points of contact would still be comparatively few, although we may have employed our utmost art, in giving flat surfaces to the plates. _emily._ in making a kaleidoscope, i recollect that the two plates of glass, which were to serve as mirrors, stuck so fast together, that i imagined some of the gum i had been using had by chance been interposed between them; but i am now convinced that it was their own natural cohesive attraction which produced this effect. _mrs. b._ very probably it was so; for plate-glass has an extremely smooth, flat surface, admitting of the contact of a great number of particles, when two plates are laid upon each other. _emily._ but, mrs. b., the cohesive attraction of some substances is much greater than that of others; thus glue, gum and paste, cohere with singular tenacity. _mrs. b._ bodies which differ in their natures in other respects, differ also in their cohesive attraction; it is probable that there are no two bodies, the particles of which attract each other with precisely the same force. there are some other modifications of attraction peculiar to certain bodies; namely, that of magnetism, of electricity, and of affinity, or chemical attraction; but we shall confine our attention merely to the attraction of cohesion and of gravity; the examination of the latter we shall resume at our next meeting. questions . (pg. ) what is intended by the term _bodies_? . (pg. ) is the term _matter_, restricted to substances of a particular kind? . (pg. ) name those properties of bodies, which are called inherent. . (pg. ) what is meant by impenetrability? . (pg. ) can a liquid be said to be impenetrable? . (pg. ) how can you prove that air is impenetrable? . (pg. ) if air is impenetrable, what causes the water to rise some way into a goblet, if i plunge it into water with its mouth downward? . (pg. ) when i drive a nail into wood, do not both the iron and the wood occupy the same space? . (pg. ) in how many directions, is a body said to have extension? . (pg. ) how do we distinguish the terms height and depth? . (pg. ) what constitutes the _figure_, or _form_ of a body? . (pg. ) what is said respecting the form of minerals? . (pg. ) what of the vegetable and animal creation? . (pg. ) what of artificial, and accidental forms? . (pg. ) what is meant by divisibility? . (pg. ) what examples can you give, to prove that the particles of a body are minute in the extreme? . (pg. ) what produces the odour of bodies? . (pg. ) how do odours exemplify the minuteness of the particles of matter? . (pg. ) can matter be in any way annihilated? . (pg. ) what becomes of the fuel, which disappears in our fires? . (pg. ) how can that part which evaporates, be still said to possess a substantial form? . (pg. ) what do we mean by _inertia_? . (pg. ) give an example to prove that force is necessary, either to give or to stop motion. . (pg. ) what general power do the particles of matter exert upon other particles? . (pg. ) what is that species of attraction called, which keeps bodies in a solid state? . (pg. ) does the attraction of cohesion exist in liquids, and how is its existence proved? . (pg. ) if the particles of air attract each other, why do they not cohere? . (pg. ) from what then do you infer that they possess attraction? . (pg. ) how do you account for some bodies being hard and others soft? . (pg. ) what is meant by the term _density_? . (pg. ) do the most dense bodies always cohere the most strongly? . (pg. ) how do we know that one body is more dense than another? . (pg. ) what is there which acts in opposition to cohesive attraction, tending to separate the particles of bodies? . (pg. ) what would be the consequence if the repulsive power of heat were not exerted? . (pg. ) if we continue to increase the heat, what effects will it produce on bodies? . (pg. ) what body has its dimensions most sensibly affected by change of temperature? . (pg. ) what power restores vapours to the liquid form? . (pg. ) what examples can you give? . (pg. ) how are drops of rain and of dew said to be formed? . (pg. ) what is meant by a capillary tube? . (pg. ) what effect does attraction produce when these are immersed in water? . (pg. ) what is the reason that the water rises to a certain height only? . (pg. ) give some familiar examples of capillary attraction. . (pg. ) in what does _gravitation_ differ from cohesive attraction? . (pg. ) what causes bodies near the earth's surface, to have a tendency to fall towards it? . (pg. ) what remarkable difference is there between the attraction of gravitation, and that of cohesion? . (pg. ) in what instances does the power of cohesion counteract that of gravitation? . (pg. ) why will water rise to a less height, if the size of the tube is increased? . (pg. ) why do not two bodies cohere, when laid upon each other? . (pg. ) can two bodies be made sufficiently flat to cohere with considerable force? . (pg. ) what is the reason that the adhesion is greater when oil is interposed? . (pg. ) what other modifications of attraction are there, besides those of cohesion and of gravitation? conversation ii. on the attraction of gravity. attraction of gravitation, continued. of weight. of the fall of bodies. of the resistance of the air. of the ascent of light bodies. emily. i have related to my sister caroline all that you have taught me of natural philosophy, and she has been so much delighted by it, that she hopes you will have the goodness to admit her to your lessons. _mrs. b._ very willingly; but i did not think you had any taste for studies of this nature, caroline. _caroline._ i confess, mrs. b., that hitherto i had formed no very agreeable idea either of philosophy, or philosophers; but what emily has told me has excited my curiosity so much, that i shall be highly pleased if you will allow me to become one of your pupils. _mrs. b._ i fear that i shall not find you so tractable a scholar as emily; i know that you are much biased in favour of your own opinions. _caroline._ then you will have the greater merit in reforming them, mrs. b.; and after all the wonders that emily has related to me, i think i stand but little chance against you and your attractions. _mrs. b._ you will, i doubt not, advance a number of objections; but these i shall willingly admit, as they will afford an opportunity of elucidating the subject. emily, do you recollect the names of the general properties of bodies? _emily._ impenetrability, extension, figure, divisibility, inertia and attraction. _mrs. b._ very well. you must remember that these are properties common to all bodies, and of which they cannot be deprived; all other properties of bodies are called accidental, because they depend on the relation or connexion of one body to another. _caroline._ yet surely, mrs. b., there are other properties which are essential to bodies, besides those you have enumerated. colour and weight, for instance, are common to all bodies, and do not arise from their connexion with each other, but exist in the bodies themselves; these, therefore, cannot be accidental qualities? _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon; these properties do not exist in bodies independently of their connexion with other bodies. _caroline._ what! have bodies no weight? does not this table weigh heavier than this book; and, if one thing weighs heavier than another, must there not be such a thing as weight? _mrs. b._ no doubt: but this property does not appear to be essential to bodies; it depends upon their connexion with each other. weight is an effect of the power of attraction, without which the table and the book would have no weight whatever. _emily._ i think i understand you; it is the attraction of gravity which makes bodies heavy. _mrs. b._ you are right. i told you that the attraction of gravity was proportioned to the quantity of matter which bodies contain: now the earth consisting of a much greater quantity of matter than any body upon its surface, the force of its attraction must necessarily be greatest, and must draw every thing so situated towards it; in consequence of which, bodies that are unsupported fall to the ground, whilst those that are supported, press upon the object which prevents their fall, with a weight equal to the force with which they gravitate towards the earth. _caroline._ the same cause then which occasions the fall of bodies, produces their weight also. it was very dull in me not to understand this before, as it is the natural and necessary consequence of attraction; but the idea that bodies were not really heavy of themselves, appeared to me quite incomprehensible. but, mrs. b., if attraction is a property essential to matter, weight must be so likewise; for how can one exist without the other? _mrs. b._ suppose there were but one body existing in universal space, what would its weight be? _caroline._ that would depend upon its size; or more accurately speaking, upon the quantity of matter it contained. _emily._ no, no; the body would have no weight, whatever were its size; because nothing would attract it. am i not right, mrs. b.? _mrs. b._ you are: you must allow, therefore, that it would be possible for attraction to exist without weight; for each of the particles of which the body was composed, would possess the power of attraction; but they could exert it only amongst themselves; the whole mass having nothing to attract, or to be attracted by, would have no weight. _caroline._ i am now well satisfied that weight is not essential to the existence of bodies; but what have you to object to colours, mrs. b.; you will not, i think, deny that they really exist in the bodies themselves. _mrs. b._ when we come to treat of the subject of colours, i trust that i shall be able to convince you, that colours are likewise accidental qualities, quite distinct from the bodies to which they appear to belong. _caroline._ oh do pray explain it to us now, i am so very curious to know how that is possible. _mrs. b._ unless we proceed with some degree of order and method, you will in the end find yourself but little the wiser for all you learn. let us therefore go on regularly, and make ourselves well acquainted with the general properties of bodies before we proceed further. _emily._ to return, then, to attraction, (which appears to me by far the most interesting of them, since it belongs equally to all kinds of matter,) it must be mutual between two bodies; and if so, when a stone falls to the earth, the earth should rise part of the way to meet the stone? _mrs. b._ certainly; but you must recollect that the force of attraction is proportioned to the quantity of matter which bodies contain, and if you consider the difference there is in that respect, between a stone and the earth, you will not be surprised that you do not perceive the earth rise to meet the stone; for though it is true that a mutual attraction takes place between the earth and the stone, that of the latter is so very small in comparison to that of the former, as to render its effect insensible. _emily._ but since attraction is proportioned to the quantity of matter which bodies contain, why do not the hills attract the houses and churches towards them? _caroline._ what an idea, emily! how can the houses and churches be moved, when they are so firmly fixed in the ground! _mrs. b._ emily's question is not absurd, and your answer, caroline, is perfectly just; but can you tell us why the houses and churches are so firmly fixed in the ground? _caroline._ i am afraid i have answered right by mere chance; for i begin to suspect that bricklayers and carpenters could give but little stability to their buildings, without the aid of attraction. _mrs. b._ it is certainly the cohesive attraction between the bricks and the mortar, which enables them to build walls, and these are so strongly attracted by the earth, as to resist every other impulse; otherwise they would necessarily move towards the hills and the mountains; but the lesser force must yield to the greater. there are, however, some circumstances in which the attraction of a large body has sensibly counteracted that of the earth. if whilst standing on the declivity of a mountain, you hold a plumb-line in your hand, the weight will not fall perpendicular to the earth, but incline a little towards the mountain; and this is owing to the lateral, or sideways attraction of the mountain, interfering with the perpendicular attraction of the earth. _emily._ but the size of a mountain is very trifling, compared to the whole earth. _mrs. b._ attraction, you must recollect, is in proportion to the quantity of matter, and although that of the mountain, is much less than that of the earth, it may yet be sufficient to act sensibly upon the plumb-line which is so near to it. _caroline._ pray, mrs. b., do the two scales of a balance hang parallel to each other? _mrs. b._ you mean, i suppose, in other words to inquire whether two lines which are perpendicular to the earth, are parallel to each other? i believe i guess the reason of your question; but i wish you would endeavour to answer it without my assistance. _caroline._ i was thinking that such lines must both tend by gravity to the same point, the centre of the earth; now lines tending to the same point cannot be parallel, as parallel lines are always at an equal distance from each other, and would never meet. _mrs. b._ very well explained; you see now the use of your knowledge of parallel lines: had you been ignorant of their properties, you could not have drawn such a conclusion. this may enable you to form an idea of the great advantage to be derived even from a slight knowledge of geometry, in the study of natural philosophy; and if after i have made you acquainted with the first elements, you should be tempted to pursue the study, i would advise you to prepare yourselves by acquiring some knowledge of geometry. this science would teach you that lines which fall perpendicular to the surface of a sphere cannot be parallel, because they would all meet, if prolonged to the centre of the sphere; while lines that fall perpendicular to a plane or flat surface, are always parallel, because if prolonged, they would never meet. _emily._ and yet a pair of scales, hanging perpendicular to the earth, appear parallel? _mrs. b._ because the sphere is so large, and the scales consequently converge so little, that their inclination is not perceptible to our senses; if we could construct a pair of scales whose beam would extend several degrees, their convergence would be very obvious; but as this cannot be accomplished, let us draw a small figure of the earth, and then we may make a pair of scales of the proportion we please. (fig. . pl. i.) _caroline._ this figure renders it very clear: then two bodies cannot fall to the earth in parallel lines? _mrs. b._ never. _caroline._ the reason that a heavy body falls quicker than a light one, is, i suppose, because the earth attracts it more strongly. _mrs. b._ the earth, it is true, attracts a heavy body more than a light one; but that would not make the one fall quicker than the other. _caroline._ yet, since it is attraction that occasions the fall of bodies, surely the more a body is attracted, the more rapidly it will fall. besides, experience proves it to be so. do we not every day see heavy bodies fall quickly, and light bodies slowly? _emily._ it strikes me, as it does caroline, that as attraction is proportioned to the quantity of matter, the earth must necessarily attract a body which contains a great quantity more strongly, and therefore bring it to the ground sooner than one consisting of a smaller quantity. _mrs. b._ you must consider, that if heavy bodies are attracted more strongly than light ones, they require more attraction to make them fall. remember that bodies have no natural tendency to fall, any more than to rise, or to move laterally, and that they will not fall unless impelled by some force; now this force must be proportioned to the quantity of matter it has to move: a body consisting of particles of matter, for instance, requires ten times as much attraction to bring it to the ground in the same space of time as a body consisting of only particles. [illustration: plate i.] _caroline._ i do not understand that; for it seems to me, that the heavier a body is, the move easily and readily it falls. _emily._ i think i now comprehend it; let me try if i can explain it to caroline. suppose that i draw towards me two weighty bodies, the one of lbs. the other of lbs. must i not exert ten times as much strength to draw the larger one to me, in the same space of time, as is required for the smaller one? and if the earth draws a body of lbs. weight to it in the same space of time that it draws a body of lbs. does it not follow that it attracts the body of lbs. weight with ten times the force that it does that of lbs.? _caroline._ i comprehend your reasoning perfectly; but if it were so, the body of lbs. weight, and that of lbs. would fall with the same rapidity; and the consequence would be, that all bodies, whether light or heavy, being at an equal distance from the ground, would fall to it in the same space of time: now it is very evident that this conclusion is absurd; experience every instant contradicts it; observe how much sooner this book reaches the floor than this sheet of paper, when i let them drop together. _emily._ that is an objection i cannot answer. i must refer it to you, mrs. b. _mrs. b._ i trust that we shall not find it insurmountable. it is true that, according to the laws of attraction, all bodies at an equal distance from the earth, should fall to it in the same space of time; and this would actually take place if no obstacle intervened to impede their fall. but bodies fall through the air, and it is the resistance of the air which makes bodies of different density fall with different degrees of velocity. they must all force their way through the air, but dense heavy bodies overcome this obstacle more easily than rarer or lighter ones; because in the same space they contain more gravitating particles. the resistance which the air opposes to the fall of bodies is proportioned to their surface, not to their weight; the air being inert, cannot exert a greater force to support the weight of a cannon ball, than it does to support the weight of a ball (of the same size) made of leather; but the cannon ball will overcome this resistance more easily, and fall to the ground, consequently, quicker than the leather ball. _caroline._ this is very clear and solves the difficulty perfectly. the air offers the same resistance to a bit of lead and a bit of feather of the same size; yet the one seems to meet with no obstruction in its fall, whilst the other is evidently resisted and supported for some time by the air. _emily._ the larger the surface of a body, then, the more air it covers, and the greater is the resistance it meets with from it. _mrs. b._ certainly: observe the manner in which this sheet of paper falls; it floats awhile in the air, and then gently descends to the ground. i will roll the same piece of paper up into a ball: it offers now but a small surface to the air, and encounters therefore but little resistance: see how much more rapidly it falls. the heaviest bodies may be made to float awhile in the air, by making the extent of their surface counterbalance their weight. here is some gold, which is one of the most dense bodies we are acquainted with; but it has been beaten into a very thin leaf, and offers so great an extent of surface in proportion to its weight, that its fall, you see, is still more retarded by the resistance of the air, than that of the sheet of paper. _caroline._ that is very curious: and it is, i suppose, upon the same principle that a thin slate sinks in water more slowly than a round stone. but, mrs. b., if the air is a real body, is it not also subjected to the laws of gravity? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly. _caroline._ then why does it not, like all other bodies, fall to the ground? _mrs. b._ on account of its spring or elasticity. the air is an _elastic fluid_; and the peculiar property of elastic bodies is to resume, after compression, their original dimensions; and you must consider the air of which the atmosphere is composed as existing in a state of compression, for its particles being drawn towards the earth by gravity, are brought closer together than they would otherwise be, but the spring or elasticity of the air by which it endeavours to resist compression, gives it a constant tendency to expand itself, so as to resume the dimensions it would naturally have, if not under the influence of gravity. the air may therefore be said constantly to struggle with the power of gravity without being able to overcome it. gravity thus confines the air to the regions of our globe, whilst its elasticity prevents it from falling, like other bodies, to the ground. _emily._ the air then is, i suppose, thicker, or i should rather say more dense, near the surface of the earth, than in the higher regions of the atmosphere; for that part of the air which is nearer the surface of the earth must be most strongly attracted. _mrs. b._ the diminution of the force of gravity, at so small a distance as that to which the atmosphere extends (compared with the size of the earth) is so inconsiderable as to be scarcely sensible; but the pressure of the upper parts of the atmosphere on those beneath, renders the air near the surface of the earth much more dense than in the upper regions. the pressure of the atmosphere has been compared to that of a pile of fleeces of wool, in which the lower fleeces are pressed together by the weight of those above; these lie light and loose, in proportion as they approach the uppermost fleece, which receives no external pressure, and is confined merely by the force of its own gravity. _emily._ i do not understand how it is that the air can be springy or elastic, as the particles of which it is composed must, according to the general law, attract each other; yet their elasticity, must arise from a tendency to recede from each other. _mrs. b._ have you forgotten what i told you respecting the effects of heat, a fluid so subtile that it readily pervades all substances, and even in solid bodies, counteracts the attraction of cohesion? in air the quantity of heat interposed is so great, as to cause its particles actually to repel each other, and it is to this that we must ascribe its elasticity; this, however, does not prevent the earth from exerting its attraction upon the individual particles of which it consists. _caroline._ it has just occurred to me that there are some bodies which do not gravitate towards the earth. smoke and steam, for instance, rise instead of falling. _mrs. b._ it is still gravity which produces their ascent; at least, were that power destroyed, these bodies would not rise. _caroline._ i shall be out of conceit with gravity, if it is so inconsistent in its operations. _mrs. b._ there is no difficulty in reconciling this apparent inconsistency of effect. the air near the earth is heavier than smoke, steam, or other vapours; it consequently not only supports these light bodies, but forces them to rise, till they reach a part of the atmosphere, the weight of which is not greater than their own, and then they remain stationary. look at this bason of water; why does the piece of paper which i throw into it float on the surface? _emily._ because, being lighter than the water, it is supported by it. _mrs. b._ and now that i pour more water into the bason, why does the paper rise? _emily._ the water being heavier than the paper, gets beneath it, and obliges it to rise. _mrs. b._ in a similar manner are smoke and vapour forced upwards by the air; but these bodies do not, like the paper, ascend to the surface of the fluid, because, as we observed before, the air being less dense, and consequently lighter as it is more distant from the earth, vapours rise only till they attain a region of air of their own density. smoke, indeed ascends but a very little way; it consists of minute particles of fuel, carried up by a current of heated air, from the fire below: heat, you recollect, expands all bodies; it consequently rarefies air, and renders it lighter than the colder air of the atmosphere; the heated air from the fire carries up with it vapour and small particles of the combustible materials which are burning in the fire. when this current of hot air is cooled by mixing with the atmosphere, the minute particles of coal, or other combustible, fall; it is this which produces the small black flakes which render the air, and every thing in contact with it, in london, so dirty. _caroline._ you must, however, allow me to make one more objection to the universal gravity of bodies; which is the ascent of air balloons, the materials of which are undoubtedly heavier than air: how, therefore, can they be supported by it? _mrs. b._ i admit that the materials of which balloons are made are heavier than the air; but the air with which they are filled is an elastic fluid, of a different nature from atmospheric air, and considerably lighter; so that on the whole the balloon is lighter than the air which it displaces, and consequently will rise, on the same principle as smoke and vapour. now, emily, let me hear if you can explain how the gravity of bodies is modified by the effect of the air? _emily._ the air forces bodies which are lighter than itself to ascend; those that are of an equal weight will remain stationary in it; and those that are heavier will descend through it: but the air will have some effect on these last; for if they are not much heavier, they will with difficulty overcome the resistance they meet with in passing through it, they will be borne up by it, and their fall will be more or less retarded. _mrs. b._ very well. observe how slowly this light feather falls to the ground, while a heavier body, like this marble, overcomes the resistance which the air makes to its descent much more easily, and its fall is proportionally more rapid. i now throw a pebble into this tub of water; it does not reach the bottom near so soon as if there were no water in the tub, because it meets with resistance from the water. suppose that we could empty the tub, not only of water, but of air also, the pebble would then fall quicker still, as it would in that case meet with no resistance at all to counteract its gravity. thus you see that it is not the different degrees of gravity, but the resistance of the air, which prevents bodies of different weight from falling with equal velocities; if the air did not bear up the feather, it would reach the ground as soon as the marble. _caroline._ i make no doubt that it is so; and yet i do not feel quite satisfied. i wish there was any place void of air, in which the experiment could be made. _mrs. b._ if that proof will satisfy your doubts, i can give it you. here is a machine called an _air pump_, (fig. . pl. .) by means of which the air may be expelled from any close vessel which is placed over this opening, through which the air is pumped out. glasses of various shapes, usually called receivers, are employed for this purpose. we shall now exhaust the air from this tall receiver which is placed over the opening, and we shall find that bodies within it, whatever their weight or size, will fall from the top to the bottom in the same space of time. _caroline._ oh, i shall be delighted with this experiment; what a curious machine! how can you put the two bodies of different weight within the glass, without admitting the air? _mrs. b._ a guinea and a feather are already placed there for the purpose of the experiment: here is, you see, a contrivance to fasten them in the upper part of the glass; as soon as the air is pumped out, i shall turn this little screw, by which means the brass plates which support them will be removed, and the two bodies will fall.--now i believe i have pretty well exhausted the air. _caroline._ pray let me turn the screw.--i declare, they both reached the bottom at the same instant! did you see, emily, the feather appeared as heavy as the guinea? _emily._ exactly; and fell just as quickly. how wonderful this is! what a number of entertaining experiments might be made with this machine! _mrs. b._ no doubt there are a great many; but we shall reserve them to elucidate the subjects to which they relate: if i had not explained to you why the guinea, and the feather fell with equal velocity, you would not have been so well pleased with the experiment. _emily._ i should have been as much surprised, but not so much interested; besides, experiments help to imprint on the memory the facts they are intended to illustrate; it will be better therefore for us to restrain our curiosity, and wait for other experiments in their proper places. _caroline._ pray by what means is this receiver exhausted of its air? _mrs. b._ you must learn something of mechanics in order to understand the construction of a pump. at our next meeting, therefore, i shall endeavour to make you acquainted with the laws of motion, as an introduction to that subject. questions . (pg. ) what are those properties of bodies called, which are not common to all? . (pg. ) why are they so called? . (pg. ) what is the cause of weight in bodies? . (pg. ) what is the reason that all bodies near to the surface of the earth, are drawn towards it? . (pg. ) if attraction is the cause of weight, could you suppose it possible for a body to possess the former and not the latter property? . (pg. ) when a stone falls to the ground, in which of the two bodies does the power of attraction exist? . (pg. ) if the attraction be mutual, why does not the earth approach the stone, as much as the stone approaches the earth? . (pg. ) if attraction be in proportion to the mass, why does not a hill, draw towards itself, a house placed near it? . (pg. ) how can the attraction of a mountain be rendered sensible? . (pg. ) why cannot two lines which are perpendicular to the surface of the earth be parallel to each other? . (pg. ) draw a small figure of the earth to exemplify this, as in fig. . plate . . (pg. ) if bodies were not resisted by the air, those which are light, would fall as quickly as those which are heavy, how can you account for this? . (pg. ) what then is the reason that a book, and a sheet of paper, let fall from the same height, will not reach the ground in the same time? . (pg. ) what then will be the effect of increasing the surface of a body? . (pg. ) what could you do to a sheet of paper, to make it fall quickly, and why? . (pg. ) inform me how a very dense body may be made to float in the air? . (pg. ) the air is a real body, why does it not fall to the ground? . (pg. ) the air is more dense near the surface of the earth, and decreases in density as you ascend, how is this accounted for, and to what is it compared? . (pg. ) what is it which causes the particles of air to recede from each other, and seems to destroy their mutual attraction? . (pg. ) smoke and vapour ascend in the atmosphere, how can you reconcile this with gravitation? . (pg. ) how would you illustrate this by the floating of a piece of paper on water? . (pg. ) does smoke rise to a great height in the air, and if not, what prevents its so doing? . (pg. ) what limits the height to which vapours rise? . (pg. ) of what does smoke consist? . (pg. ) air balloons are formed of heavy materials, how will you account for their rising in the air? . (pg. ) what influence does the air exert, on bodies less dense than itself, on those of equal, and on those of greater density? . (pg. ) if the air could be entirely removed, what influence would this have upon the falling of heavy and light bodies? . (pg. ) how could this be exemplified by means of the air pump? conversation iii. on the laws of motion. of motion. of the inertia of bodies. of force to produce motion. direction of motion. velocity, absolute and relative. uniform motion. retarded motion. accelerated motion. velocity of falling bodies. momentum. action and reaction equal. elasticity of bodies. porosity of bodies. reflected motion. angles of incidence and reflection. mrs. b. the science of mechanics is founded on the laws of motion; it will therefore be necessary to make you acquainted with these laws before we examine the mechanical powers. tell me, caroline, what do you understand by the word motion? _caroline._ i think i understand it perfectly, though i am at a loss to describe it. motion is the act of moving about, of going from one place to another, it is the contrary of remaining at rest. _mrs. b._ very well. motion then consists in a change of place; a body is in motion whenever it is changing its situation with regard to a fixed point. now since we have observed that one of the general properties of bodies is inertia, that is, an entire passiveness, either with regard to motion or rest, it follows that a body cannot move without being put into motion; the power which puts a body into motion is called _force_; thus the stroke of the hammer is the force which drives the nail; the pulling of the horse that which draws the carriage, &c. force then is the cause which produces motion. _emily._ and may we not say that gravity is the force which occasions the fall of bodies? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly. i have given you the most familiar illustrations in order to render the explanation clear; but since you seek for more scientific examples, you may say that cohesion is the force which binds the particles of bodies together, and heat that which drives them asunder. the motion of a body acted upon by a single force, is always in a straight line, and in the direction in which it received the impulse. _caroline._ that is very natural; for as the body is inert, and can move only because it is impelled, it will move only in the direction in which it is impelled. the degree of quickness with which it moves, must, i suppose, also depend upon the degree of force with which it is impelled. _mrs. b._ yes; the rate at which a body moves, or the shortness of the time which it takes to move from one place to another, is called its velocity; and it is one of the laws of motion, that the velocity of the moving body is proportional to the force by which it is put in motion. we must distinguish between absolute and relative velocity. the velocity of a body is called _absolute_, if we consider the motion of the body in space, without any reference to that of other bodies. when, for instance, a horse goes fifty miles in ten hours, his velocity is five miles an hour. the velocity of a body is termed _relative_, when compared with that of another body which is itself in motion. for instance, if one man walks at the rate of a mile an hour, and another at the rate of two miles an hour, the relative velocity of the latter is double that of the former; but the absolute velocity of the one is one mile, and that of the other two miles an hour. _emily._ let me see if i understand it--the relative velocity of a body is the degree of rapidity of its motion compared with that of another body; thus if one ship sail three times as far as another ship in the same space of time, the velocity of the former is equal to three times that of the latter. _mrs. b._ the general rule may be expressed thus: the velocity of a body is measured by the space over which it moves, divided by the time which it employs in that motion: thus if you travel one hundred miles in twenty hours, what is your velocity in each hour? _emily._ i must divide the space, which is one hundred miles, by the time, which is twenty hours, and the answer will be five miles an hour. then, mrs. b., may we not reverse this rule, and say that the time is equal to the space divided by the velocity; since the space, one hundred miles, divided by the velocity, five miles per hour, gives twenty hours for the time? _mrs. b._ certainly; and we may say also that the space is equal to the velocity multiplied by the time. can you tell me, caroline, how many miles you will have travelled, if your velocity is three miles an hour, and you travel six hours? _caroline._ eighteen miles; for the product of multiplied by , is . _mrs. b._ i suppose that you understand what is meant by the terms _uniform_, _accelerated_ and _retarded_ motion. _emily._ i conceive uniform motion to be that of a body whose motion is regular, and at an equal rate throughout; for instance a horse that goes an equal number of miles every hour. but the hand of a watch is a much better example, as its motion is so regular as to indicate the time. _mrs. b._ you have a right idea of uniform motion; but it would be more correctly expressed by saying, that the motion of a body is uniform when it passes over equal spaces in equal times. uniform motion is produced by a force having acted on a body once and having ceased to act; as, for instance, the stroke of a bat on a ball. _caroline._ but the motion of a ball is not uniform; its velocity gradually diminishes till it falls to the ground. _mrs. b._ recollect that the ball is inert, and has no more power to stop, than to put itself in motion; if it falls, therefore, it must be stopped by some force superior to that by which it was projected, and which destroys its motion. _caroline._ and it is no doubt the force of gravity which counteracts and destroys that of projection; but if there were no such power as gravity, would the ball never stop? _mrs. b._ if neither gravity nor any other force, such as the resistance of the air, opposed its motion, the ball, or even a stone thrown by the hand, would proceed onwards in a right line, and with a uniform velocity for ever. _caroline._ you astonish me! i thought that it was impossible to produce perpetual motion? _mrs. b._ perpetual motion cannot be produced by art, because gravity ultimately destroys all motion that human power can produce. _emily._ but independently of the force of gravity, i cannot conceive that the little motion i am capable of giving to a stone would put it in motion for ever. _mrs. b._ the quantity of motion you communicate to the stone would not influence its duration; if you threw it with little force it would move slowly, for its velocity you must remember, will be proportional to the force with which it is projected; but if there is nothing to obstruct its passage, it will continue to move with the same velocity, and in the same direction as when you first projected it. _caroline._ this appears to me quite incomprehensible; we do not meet with a single instance of it in nature. _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon. when you come to study the motion of the celestial bodies, you will find that _nature_ abounds with examples of perpetual motion; and that it conduces as much to the harmony of the system of the universe, as the prevalence of it on the surface of the earth, would to the destruction of all our comforts. the wisdom of providence has therefore ordained insurmountable obstacles to perpetual motion here below; and though these obstacles often compel us to contend with great difficulties, yet these appear necessary to that order, regularity and repose, so essential to the preservation of all the various beings of which this world is composed. now can you tell me what is _retarded motion_? _caroline._ retarded motion is that of a body which moves every moment slower and slower: thus when i am tired with walking fast, i slacken my pace; or when a stone is thrown upwards, its velocity is gradually diminished by the power of gravity. _mrs. b._ retarded motion is produced by some force acting upon the body in a direction opposite to that which first put it in motion: you who are an animated being, endowed with power and will, may slacken your pace, or stop to rest when you are tired; but inert matter is incapable of any feeling of fatigue, can never slacken its pace, and never stop, unless retarded or arrested in its course by some opposing force; and as it is the laws of inert bodies of which mechanical philosophy treats, i prefer your illustration of the stone retarded in its ascent. now emily, it is your turn; what is _accelerated motion_? _emily._ accelerated motion, i suppose, takes place when the velocity of a body is increased; if you had not objected to our giving such active bodies as ourselves as examples, i should say that my motion is accelerated if i change my pace from walking to running. i cannot think of any instance of accelerated motion in inanimate bodies; all motion of inert matter seems to be retarded by gravity. _mrs. b._ not in all cases; for the power of gravitation sometimes produces accelerated motion; for instance, a stone falling from a height, moves with a regularly accelerated motion. _emily._ true; because the nearer it approaches the earth, the more it is attracted by it. _mrs. b._ you have mistaken the cause of its accelerated motion; for though it is true that the force of gravity increases as a body approaches the earth, the difference is so trifling at any small distance from its surface, as not to be perceptible. accelerated motion is produced when the force which put a body in motion, continues to act upon it during its motion, so that its velocity is continually increased. when a stone falls from a height, the impulse which it receives from gravitation in the first instant of its fall, would be sufficient to bring it to the ground with a uniform velocity: for, as we have observed, a body having been once acted upon by a force, will continue to move with a uniform velocity; but the stone is not acted upon by gravity merely at the first instant of its fall; this power continues to impel it during the whole time of its descent, and it is this continued impulse which accelerates its motion. _emily._ i do not quite understand that. _mrs. b._ let us suppose that the instant after you have let a stone fall from a high tower, the force of gravity were annihilated; the body would nevertheless continue to move downwards, for it would have received a first impulse from gravity; and a body once put in motion will not stop unless it meets with some obstacle to impede its course; in this case its velocity would be uniform, for though there would be no obstacle to obstruct its descent, there would be no force to accelerate it. _emily._ that is very clear. _mrs. b._ then you have only to add the power of gravity constantly acting on the stone during its descent, and it will not be difficult to understand that its motion will become accelerated, since the gravity which acts on the stone at the very first instant of its descent, will continue in force every instant, till it reaches the ground. let us suppose that the impulse given by gravity to the stone during the first instant of its descent, be equal to one; the next instant we shall find that an additional impulse gives the stone an additional velocity, equal to one; so that the accumulated velocity is now equal to two; the following instant another impulse increases the velocity to three, and so on till the stone reaches the ground. _caroline._ now i understand it; the effects of preceding impulses continue, whilst gravity constantly adds new ones, and thus the velocity is perpetually increased. _mrs. b._ yes; it has been ascertained, both by experiment, and calculations which it would be too difficult for us to enter into, that heavy bodies near the surface of the earth, descending from a height by the force of gravity, fall sixteen feet the first second of time, three times that distance in the next, five times in the third second, seven times in the fourth, and so on, regularly increasing their velocities in the proportion of the odd numbers , , , , , &c. according to the number of seconds during which the body has been falling. _emily._ if you throw a stone perpendicularly upwards, is it not the same length of time in ascending, that it is in descending? _mrs. b._ exactly; in ascending, the velocity is diminished by the force of gravity; in descending, it is accelerated by it. _caroline._ i should then imagine that it would fall, quicker than it rose? _mrs. b._ you must recollect that the force with which it is projected, must be taken into the account; and that this force is overcome and destroyed by gravity, before the body begins to fall. _caroline._ but the force of projection given to a stone in throwing it upwards, cannot always be equal to the force of gravity in bringing it down again; for the force of gravity is always the same, whilst the degree of impulse given to the stone is optional; i may throw it up gently, or with violence. _mrs. b._ if you throw it gently, it will not rise high; perhaps only sixteen feet, in which case it will fall in one second of time. now it is proved by experiment, that an impulse requisite to project a body sixteen feet upwards, will make it ascend that height in one second; here then the times of the ascent and descent are equal. but supposing it be required to throw a stone twice that height, the force must be proportionally greater. you see then, that the impulse of projection in throwing a body upwards, is always equal to the action of the force of gravity during its descent; and that whether the body rises to a greater or less distance, these two forces balance each other. i must now explain to you what is meant by the _momentum_ of bodies. it is the force, or power, with which a body in motion, strikes against another body. the momentum of a body is the product of its _quantity of matter_, multiplied by its _quantity of motion_; in other words, its weight multiplied by its velocity. _caroline._ the quicker a body moves, the greater, no doubt, must be the force which it would strike against another body. _emily._ therefore a light body may have a greater momentum than a heavier one, provided its velocity be sufficiently increased; for instance, the momentum of an arrow shot from a bow, must be greater than that of a stone thrown by the hand. _caroline._ we know also by experience, that the heavier a body is, the greater is its force; it is not therefore difficult to understand, that the whole power, or momentum of a body, must be composed of these two properties, its weight and its velocity: but i do not understand why they should be _multiplied_, the one by the other; i should have supposed that the quantity of matter, should have been _added_ to the quantity of motion? _mrs. b._ it is found by experiment, that if the weight of a body is represented by the number , and its velocity also by , its momentum will be represented by , not by , as would be the case, were these figures added, instead of being multiplied together. _emily._ i think that i now understand the reason of this; if the quantity of matter is increased three-fold, it must require three times the force to move it with the same velocity; and then if we wish to give it three times the velocity, it will again require three times the force to produce that effect, which is three times three, or nine; which number therefore, would represent the momentum. _caroline._ i am not quite sure that i fully comprehend what is intended, when weight, and velocity, are represented by numbers alone; i am so used to measure space by yards and miles, and weight by pounds and ounces, that i still want to associate them together in my mind. _mrs. b._ this difficulty will be of very short duration: you have only to be careful, that when you represent weights and velocities by numbers, the denominations or values of the weights and spaces, must not be changed. thus, if we estimate the weight of one body in ounces, the weight of others with which it is compared, must be estimated in ounces, and not in pounds; and in like manner, in comparing velocities, we must throughout, preserve the same standards both of space and of time; as for instance, the number of feet in one second, or of miles in one hour. _caroline._ i now understand it perfectly, and think that i shall never forget a thing which you have rendered so clear. _mrs. b._ i recommend it to you to be very careful to remember the definition of the momentum of bodies, as it is one of the most important points in mechanics: you will find that it is from opposing velocity, to quantity of matter, that machines derive their powers. the _reaction_ of bodies, is the next law of motion which i must explain to you. when a body in motion strikes against another body, it meets with resistance from it; the resistance of the body at rest will be equal to the blow struck by the body in motion; or to express myself in philosophical language, _action_ and _reaction_ will be equal, and in opposite directions. _caroline._ do you mean to say, that the action of the body which strikes, is returned with equal force by the body which receives the blow? _mrs. b._ exactly. _caroline._ but if a man strike another on the face with his fist, he surely does not receive as much pain by the reaction, as he inflicts by the blow? _mrs. b._ no; but this is simply owing to the knuckles, having much less feeling than the face. here are two ivory balls suspended by threads, (plate . fig. .) draw one of them, a, a little on one side,--now let it go;--it strikes, you see, against the other ball b, and drives it off, to a distance equal to that through which the first ball fell; but the motion of a is stopped; because when it struck b, it received in return a blow equal to that it gave, and its motion was consequently destroyed. _emily._ i should have supposed, that the motion of the ball a was destroyed, because it had communicated all its motion to b. _mrs. b._ it is perfectly true, that when one body strikes against another, the quantity of motion communicated to the second body, is lost by the first; but this loss proceeds from the reaction of the body which is struck. here are six ivory balls hanging in a row, (fig. .) draw the first out of the perpendicular, and let it fall against the second. you see none of the balls except the last, appear to move, this flies off as far as the first ball fell; can you explain this? _caroline._ i believe so. when the first ball struck the second, it received a blow in return, which destroyed its motion; the second ball, though it did not appear to move, must have struck against the third; the reaction of which set it at rest; the action of the third ball must have been destroyed by the reaction of the fourth, and so on till motion was communicated to the last ball, which, not being reacted upon, flies off. _mrs. b._ very well explained. observe, that it is only when bodies are elastic, as these ivory balls are, and when their masses are equal, that the stroke returned is equal to the stroke given, and that the striking body loses all its motion. i will show you the difference with these two balls of clay, (fig. .) which are not elastic; when you raise one of these, d, out of the perpendicular, and let it fall against the other, e, the reaction of the latter, on account of its not being elastic, is not sufficient to destroy the motion of the former; only part of the motion of d will be communicated to e, and the two balls will move on together to _d_ and _e_, which is not so great a distance as that through which d fell. observe how useful reaction is in nature. birds in flying strike the air with their wings, and it is the reaction of the air, which enables them to rise, or advance forwards; reaction being always in a contrary direction to action. _caroline._ i thought that birds might be lighter than the air, when their wings were expanded, and were by that means enabled to fly. _mrs. b._ when their wings are spread, this does not alter their weight, but they are better supported by the air, as they cover a greater extent of surface; yet they are still much too heavy to remain in that situation, without continually flapping their wings, as you may have noticed when birds hover over their nests: the force with which their wings strike against the air, must equal the weight of their bodies, in order that the reaction of the air, may be able to support that weight; the bird will then remain stationary. if the stroke of the wings is greater than is required merely to support the bird, the reaction of the air will make it rise; if it be less, it will gently descend; and you may have observed the lark, sometimes remaining with its wings extended, but motionless; in this state it drops quietly into its nest. _caroline._ this is indeed a beautiful effect of the law of reaction! but if flying is merely a mechanical operation, mrs. b., why should we not construct wings, adapted to the size of our bodies, fasten them to our shoulders, move them with our arms, and soar into the air? _mrs. b._ such an experiment has been repeatedly attempted, but never with success; and it is now considered as totally impracticable. the muscular power of birds, is incomparably greater in proportion to their weight, than that of man; were we therefore furnished with wings sufficiently large to enable us to fly, we should not have strength to put them in motion. in swimming, a similar action is produced on the water, to that on the air, in flying; in rowing, also, you strike the water with the oars, in a direction opposite to that in which the boat is required to move, and it is the reaction of the water on the oars which drives the boat along. _emily._ you said, that it was in elastic bodies only, that the whole motion of one body, would be communicated to another; pray what bodies are elastic, besides the air? _mrs. b._ in speaking of the air, i think we defined elasticity to be a property, by means of which bodies that are compressed, return to their former state. if i bend this cane, as soon as i leave it at liberty, it recovers its former position; if i press my finger upon your arm, as soon as i remove it, the flesh, by virtue of its elasticity, rises and destroys the impression i made. of all bodies, the air is the most eminent for this property, and it has thence obtained the name of an elastic fluid. hard bodies are in the next degree elastic; if two ivory, or hardened steel balls are struck together, the parts at which they touch, will be flattened; but their elasticity will make them instantaneously resume their former shape. _caroline._ but when two ivory balls strike against each other, as they constantly do on a billiard table, no mark or impression is made by the stroke. _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon; you cannot, it is true, perceive any mark, because their elasticity instantly destroys all trace of it. soft bodies, which easily retain impressions, such as clay, wax, tallow, butter, &c. have very little elasticity; but of all descriptions of bodies, liquids are the least elastic. _emily._ if sealing-wax were elastic, instead of retaining the impression of a seal, it would resume a smooth surface, as soon as the weight of the seal was removed. but pray what is it that produces the elasticity of bodies? _mrs. b._ there is great diversity of opinion upon that point, and i cannot pretend to decide which approaches nearest to the truth. elasticity implies susceptibility of compression, and the susceptibility of compression depends upon the porosity of bodies; for were there no pores or spaces between the particles of matter of which a body is composed, it could not be compressed. _caroline._ that is to say, that if the particles of bodies were as close together as possible, they could not be squeezed closer. _emily._ bodies then, whose particles are most distant from each other, must be most susceptible of compression, and consequently most elastic; and this you say is the case with air, which is perhaps the least dense of all bodies? _mrs. b._ you will not in general find this rule hold good; for liquids have scarcely any elasticity, whilst hard bodies are eminent for this property, though the latter are certainly of much greater density than the former; elasticity implies, therefore, not only a susceptibility of compression, but depends upon the power possessed by the body, of resuming its former state after compression, in consequence of the peculiar arrangement of its particles. _caroline._ but surely there can be no pores in ivory and metals, mrs. b.; how then can they be susceptible of compression? _mrs. b._ the pores of such bodies are invisible to the naked eye, but you must not thence conclude that they have none; it is, on the contrary, well ascertained that gold, one of the most dense of all bodies, is extremely porous; and that these pores are sufficiently large to admit water when strongly compressed, to pass through them. this was shown by a celebrated experiment made many years ago at florence. _emily._ if water can pass through gold, there must certainly be pores or interstices which afford it a passage; and if gold is so porous, what must other bodies be, which are so much less dense than gold! _mrs. b._ the chief difference in this respect, is i believe, that the pores in some bodies are larger than in others; in cork, sponge and bread, they form considerable cavities; in wood and stone, when not polished, they are generally perceptible to the naked eye; whilst in ivory, metals, and all varnished and polished bodies, they cannot be discerned. to give you an idea of the extreme porosity of bodies, sir isaac newton conjectured that if the earth were so compressed as to be absolutely without pores, its dimensions might possibly not be more than a cubic inch. _caroline._ what an idea! were we not indebted to sir isaac newton for the theory of attraction, i should be tempted to laugh at him for such a supposition. what insignificant little creatures we should be! _mrs. b._ if our consequence arose from the size of our bodies, we should indeed be but pigmies, but remember that the mind of newton was not circumscribed by the dimensions of its envelope. _emily._ it is, however, fortunate that heat keeps the pores of matter open and distended, and prevents the attraction of cohesion from squeezing us into a nut-shell. _mrs. b._ let us now return to the subject of reaction, on which we have some further observations to make. it is because reaction is in its direction opposite to action, that _reflected motion_ is produced. if you throw a ball against the wall, it rebounds; this return of the ball is owing to the reaction of the wall against which it struck, and is called _reflected motion_. _emily._ and i now understand why balls filled with air rebound better than those stuffed with bran or wool; air being most susceptible of compression and most elastic, the reaction is more complete. _caroline._ i have observed that when i throw a ball straight against the wall, it returns straight to my hand; but if i throw it obliquely upwards, it rebounds still higher, and i catch it when it falls. _mrs. b._ you should not say straight, but perpendicularly against the wall; for straight is a general term for lines in all directions which are neither curved nor bent, and is therefore equally applicable to oblique or perpendicular lines. _caroline._ i thought that perpendicularly meant either directly upwards or downwards? _mrs. b._ in those directions lines are perpendicular to the earth. a perpendicular line has always a reference to something towards which it is perpendicular; that is to say, that it inclines neither to the one side or the other, but makes an equal angle on every side. do you understand what an angle is? _caroline._ yes, i believe so: it is the space contained between two lines meeting in a point. _mrs. b._ well then, let the line a b (plate . fig. .) represent the floor of the room, and the line c d that in which you throw a ball against it; the line c d, you will observe, forms two angles with the line a b, and those two angles are equal. _emily._ how can the angles be equal, while the lines which compose them are of unequal length? _mrs. b._ an angle is not measured by the length of the lines, but by their opening, or the space between them. _emily._ yet the longer the lines are, the greater is the opening between them. _mrs. b._ take a pair of compasses and draw a circle over these spaces, making the angular point the centre. _emily._ to what extent must i open the compasses? _mrs. b._ you may draw the circle what size you please, provided that it cuts the lines of the angles we are to measure. all circles, of whatever dimensions, are supposed to be divided into equal parts, called degrees; the opening of an angle, being therefore a portion of a circle, must contain a certain number of degrees: the larger the angle the greater is the number of degrees, and two angles are said to be equal, when they contain an equal number of degrees. _emily._ now i understand it. as the dimension of an angle depends upon the number of degrees contained between its lines, it is the opening, and not the length of its lines, which determines the size of the angle. _mrs. b._ very well: now that you have a clear idea of the dimensions of angles, can you tell me how many degrees are contained in the two angles formed by one line falling perpendicularly on another, as in the figure i have just drawn? _emily._ you must allow me to put one foot of the compasses at the point of the angles, and draw a circle round them, and then i think i shall be able to answer your question: the two angles are together just equal to half a circle, they contain therefore degrees each; degrees being a quarter of . _mrs. b._ an angle of degrees or one-fourth of a circle is called a right angle, and when one line is perpendicular to another, and distant from its ends, it forms, you see, (fig. .) a right angle on either side. angles containing more than degrees are called obtuse angles, (fig. .) and those containing less than degrees are called acute angles, (fig. .) _caroline._ the angles of this square table are right angles, but those of the octagon table are obtuse angles; and the angles of sharp pointed instruments are acute angles. [illustration: plate ii.] _mrs. b._ very well. to return now to your observation, that if a ball is thrown obliquely against the wall, it will not rebound in the same direction; tell me, have you ever played at billiards? _caroline._ yes, frequently; and i have observed that when i push the ball perpendicularly against the cushion, it returns in the same direction; but when i send it obliquely to the cushion, it rebounds obliquely, but on an opposite side; the ball in this latter case describes an angle, the point of which is at the cushion. i have observed too, that the more obliquely the ball is struck against the cushion, the more obliquely it rebounds on the opposite side, so that a billiard player can calculate with great accuracy in what direction it will return. _mrs. b._ very well. this figure (fig. . plate .) represents a billiard table; now if you draw a line a b from the point where the ball a strikes perpendicular to the cushion, you will find that it will divide the angle which the ball describes into two parts, or two angles; the one will show the obliquity of the direction of the ball in its passage towards the cushion, the other its obliquity in its passage back from the cushion. the first is called _the angle of incidence_, the other _the angle of reflection_; and these angles are always equal, if the bodies are perfectly elastic. _caroline._ this then is the reason why, when i throw a ball obliquely against the wall, it rebounds in an opposite oblique direction, forming equal angles of incidence and of reflection. _mrs. b._ certainly; and you will find that the more obliquely you throw the ball, the more obliquely it will rebound. we must now conclude; but i shall have some further observations to make upon the laws of motion, at our next meeting. questions . (pg. ) on what is the science of mechanics founded? . (pg. ) in what does motion consist? . (pg. ) what is the consequence of inertia, on a body at rest? . (pg. ) what do we call that which produces motion? . (pg. ) give some examples. . (pg. ) what may we say of gravity, of cohesion, and of heat, as forces? . (pg. ) how will a body move, if acted on by a single force? . (pg. ) what is the reason of this? . (pg. ) what do we intend by the term velocity, and to what is it proportional? . (pg. ) velocity is divided into absolute and relative; what is meant by absolute velocity? . (pg. ) how is relative velocity distinguished? . (pg. ) how do we measure the velocity of a body? . (pg. ) the time? . (pg. ) the space? . (pg. ) what is uniform motion? and give an example. . (pg. ) how is uniform motion produced? . (pg. ) a ball struck by a bat gradually loses its motion; what causes produce this effect? . (pg. ) if gravity did not draw a projected body towards the earth, and the resistance of the air were removed, what would be the consequence? . (pg. ) in this case would not a great degree of force be required to produce a continued motion? . (pg. ) what is retarded motion? . (pg. ) give some examples. . (pg. ) what is accelerated motion? . (pg. ) give an example. . (pg. ) explain the mode in which gravity operates in producing this effect. . (pg. ) what number of feet will a heavy body descend in the first second of its fall, and at what rate will its velocity increase? . (pg. ) what is the difference in the time of the ascent and descent, of a stone, or other body thrown upwards? . (pg. ) by what reasoning is it proved that there is no difference? . (pg. ) what is meant by the momentum of a body? . (pg. ) how do we ascertain the momentum? . (pg. ) how may a light body have a greater momentum than one which is heavier? . (pg. ) why must we _multiply_ the weight and velocity together in order to find the momentum? . (pg. ) when we represent weight and velocity by numbers, what must we carefully observe? . (pg. ) why is it particularly important, to understand the nature of momentum? . (pg. ) what is meant by reaction, and what is the rule respecting it? . (pg. ) how is this exemplified by the ivory balls represented in plate . fig. ? . (pg. ) explain the manner in which the six balls represented in fig. , illustrate this fact. . (pg. ) what must be the nature of bodies, in which the whole motion is communicated from one to the other? . (pg. ) what is the result if the balls are not elastic, and how is this explained by fig. ? . (pg. ) how will reaction assist us in explaining the flight of a bird? . (pg. ) how must their wings operate in enabling them to remain stationary, to rise, and to descend? . (pg. ) why cannot a man fly by the aid of wings? . (pg. ) how does reaction operate in enabling us to swim, or to row a boat? . (pg. ) what constitutes elasticity? . (pg. ) give some examples. . (pg. ) what name is given to air, and for what reason? . (pg. ) what hard bodies are mentioned as elastic? . (pg. ) do elastic bodies exhibit any indentation after a blow? and why not? . (pg. ) what do we conclude from elasticity respecting the contact of the particles of a body? . (pg. ) are those bodies always the most elastic, which are the least dense? . (pg. ) give examples to prove that this is not the case. . (pg. ) all bodies are believed to be porous, what is said on this subject respecting gold? . (pg. ) what conjecture was made by sir isaac newton, respecting the porosity of bodies in general? . (pg. ) if you throw an elastic body against a wall, it will rebound; what is this occasioned by, and what is this return motion called? . (pg. ) what do we mean by a perpendicular line? . (pg. ) what is an angle? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) have the length of the lines which meet in a point, any thing to do with the measurement of an angle? . (pg. ) what use can we make of compasses in measuring an angle? . (pg. ) into what number of parts do we suppose a whole circle divided, and what are these parts called? . (pg. ) when are two angles said to be equal? . (pg. ) upon what does the dimension of an angle depend? . (pg. ) what number of degrees, and what portion of a circle is there in a right angle? . (pg. ) how must one line be situated on another to form two right angles? (fig. .) . (pg. ) figure represents an angle of more than degrees, what is that called? . (pg. ) what are those of less than degrees called as in fig. ? . (pg. ) if you make an elastic ball strike a body at right angles, how will it return? . (pg. ) how if it strikes obliquely? . (pg. ) explain by fig. what is meant by the angles of incidence and of reflection. conversation iv. on compound motion. compound motion, the result of two opposite forces. of curvilinear motion, the result of two forces. centre of motion, the point at rest while the other parts of the body move round it. centre of magnitude, the middle of a body. centripetal force, that which impels a body towards a fixed central point. centrifugal force, that which impels a body to fly from the centre. fall of bodies in a parabola. centre of gravity, the point about which the parts balance each other. mrs. b. i must now explain to you the nature of compound motion. let us suppose a body to be struck by two equal forces in opposite directions, how will it move? _emily._ if the forces are equal, and their directions are in exact opposition to each other, i suppose the body would not move at all. _mrs. b._ you are perfectly right; but suppose the forces instead of acting upon the body in direct opposition to each other, were to move in lines forming an angle of ninety degrees, as the lines y a, x a, (fig. . plate .) and were to strike the ball a, at the same instant; would it not move? _emily._ the force x alone, would send it towards b, and the force y towards c; and since these forces are equal, i do not know how the body can obey one impulse rather than the other; and yet i think the ball would move, because as the two forces do not act in direct opposition, they cannot entirely destroy the effect of each other. _mrs. b._ very true; the ball therefore will not follow the direction of either of the forces, but will move in a line between them, and will reach d in the same space of time, that the force x would have sent it to b, and the force y would have sent it to c. now if you draw two lines, one from b, parallel to a c, and the other from c, parallel to a b, they will meet in d, and you will form a square; the oblique line which the body describes, is called the diagonal of the square. _caroline._ that is very clear, but supposing the two forces to be unequal, that the force x, for instance, be twice as great as the force y? _mrs. b._ then the force x, would drive the ball twice as far as the force y, consequently you must draw the line a b (fig. .) twice as long as the line a c, the body will in this case move to d; and if you draw lines from the points b and c, exactly as directed in the last example, they will meet in d, and you will find that the ball has moved in the diagonal of a rectangle. _emily._ allow me to put another case. suppose the two forces are unequal, but do not act on the ball in the direction of a right angle, but in that of an acute angle, what will result? _mrs. b._ prolong the lines in the directions of the two forces, and you will soon discover which way the ball will be impelled; it will move from a to d, in the diagonal of a parallelogram, (fig. .) forces acting in the direction of lines forming an obtuse angle, will also produce motion in the diagonal of a parallelogram. for instance, if the body set out from b, instead of a, and was impelled by the forces x and y, it would move in the dotted diagonal b c. we may now proceed to curvilinear motion: this is the result of two forces acting on a body; by one of which, it is projected forward in a right line; whilst by the other, it is drawn or impelled towards a fixed point. for instance, when i whirl this ball, which is fastened to my hand with a string, the ball moves in a circular direction, because it is acted on by two forces; that which i give it, which represents the force of projection, and that of the string which confines it to my hand. if, during its motion you were suddenly to cut the string, the ball would fly off in a straight line; being released from that confinement which caused it to move round a fixed point, it would be acted on by one force only; and motion produced by one force, you know, is always in a right line. _caroline._ this circular motion, is a little more difficult to comprehend than compound motion in straight lines. _mrs. b._ you have seen how the water is thrown off from a grindstone, when turned rapidly round; the particles of the stone itself have the same tendency, and would also fly off, was not their attraction of cohesion, greater than that of water. and indeed it sometimes happens, that large grindstones fly to pieces from the rapidity of their motion. _emily._ in the same way, the rim and spokes of a wheel, when in rapid motion, would be driven straight forwards in a right line, were they not confined to a fixed point, round which they are compelled to move. _mrs. b._ very well. you must now learn to distinguish between what is called the _centre_ of motion, and the _axis_ of motion; the former being considered as a point, the latter as a line. when a body, like the ball at the end of the string, revolves in a circle, the centre of the circle is called the centre of its motion, and the body is said to revolve in a plane; because a line extended from the revolving body, to the centre of motion, would describe a plane, or flat surface. when a body revolves round itself, as a ball suspended by a string, and made to spin round, or a top spinning on the floor, whilst it remains on the same spot; this revolution is round an imaginary line passing through the body, and this line is called its axis of motion. _caroline._ the axle of a grindstone, is then the axis of its motion; but is the centre of motion always in the middle of a body? _mrs. b._ no, not always. the middle point of a body, is called its centre of magnitude, or position, that is, the centre of its mass or bulk. bodies have also another centre, called the centre of gravity, which i shall explain to you; but at present we must confine ourselves to the axis of motion. this line you must observe remains at rest, whilst all the other parts of the body move around it; when you spin a top, the axis is stationary, whilst every other part is in motion round it. _caroline._ but a top generally has a motion forwards besides its spinning motion; and then no point within it can be at rest? _mrs. b._ what i say of the axis of motion, relates only to circular motion; that is to say, motion round a line, and not to that which a body may have at the same time in any other direction. there is one circumstance to which you must carefully attend; namely, that the further any part of a body is from the axis of motion, the greater is its velocity: as you approach that line, the velocity of the parts gradually diminish till you reach the axis of motion, which is perfectly at rest. _caroline._ but, if every part of the same body did not move with the same velocity, that part which moved quickest, must be separated from the rest of the body, and leave it behind? _mrs. b._ you perplex yourself by confounding the idea of circular motion, with that of motion in a right line; you must think only of the motion of a body round a fixed line, and you will find, that if the parts farthest from the centre had not the greatest velocity, those parts would not be able to keep up with the rest of the body, and would be left behind. do not the extremities of the vanes of a windmill move over a much greater space, than the parts nearest the axis of motion? (plate . fig. .) the three dotted circles represent the paths in which three different parts of the vanes move, and though the circles are of different dimensions, each of them is described in the same space of time. _caroline._ certainly they are; and i now only wonder, that we neither of us ever made the observation before: and the same effect must take place in a solid body, like the top in spinning; the most bulging part of the surface must move with the greatest rapidity. _mrs. b._ the force which draws a body towards a centre, round which it moves, is called the _centripetal_ force; and that force, which impels a body to fly from the centre, is called the _centrifugal_ force; when a body revolves round a centre, these two forces constantly balance each other; otherwise the revolving body would either approach the centre or recede from it, according as the one or the other prevailed. _caroline._ when i see any body moving in a circle, i shall remember, that it is acted on by two forces. _mrs. b._ motion, either in a circle, an ellipsis, or any other curve-line, must be the result of the action of two forces; for you know, that the impulse of one single force, always produces motion in a right line. _emily._ and if any cause should destroy the centripetal force, the centrifugal force would alone impel the body, and it would, i suppose, fly off in a straight line from the centre to which it had been confined. _mrs. b._ it would not fly off in a right line from the centre; but in a right line in the direction in which it was moving, at the instant of its release; if a stone, whirled round in a sling, gets loose at the point a, (plate . fig. .) it flies off in the direction a b; this line is called a _tangent_, it touches the circumference of the circle, and forms a right angle with a line drawn from that point of the circumference to the centre of the circle c. _emily._ you say, that motion in a curve-line, is owing to two forces acting upon a body; but when i throw this ball in a horizontal direction, it describes a curve-line in falling; and yet it is only acted upon by the force of projection; there is no centripetal force to confine it, or produce compound motion. _mrs. b._ a ball thus thrown, is acted upon by no less than three forces; the force of projection, which you communicate to it; the resistance of the air through which it passes, which diminishes its velocity, without changing its direction; and the force of gravity, which finally brings it to the ground. the power of gravity, and the resistance of the air, being always greater than any force of projection we can give a body, the latter is gradually overcome, and the body brought to the ground; but the stronger the projectile force, the longer will these powers be in subduing it, and the further the body will go before it falls. _caroline._ a shot fired from a cannon, for instance, will go much further, than a stone projected by the hand. _mrs. b._ bodies thus projected, you observe, describe a curve-line in their descent; can you account for that? _caroline._ no; i do not understand why it should not fall in the diagonal of a square. _mrs. b._ you must consider that the force of projection is strongest when the ball is first thrown; this force, as it proceeds, being weakened by the continued resistance of the air, the stone, therefore, begins by moving in a horizontal direction; but as the stronger powers prevail, the direction of the ball will gradually change from a horizontal, to a perpendicular line. _projection_ alone, would drive the ball a, to b, (fig. .) _gravity_ would bring it to c; therefore, when acted on in different directions, by these two forces, it moves between, gradually inclining more and more to the force of gravity, in proportion as this accumulates; instead therefore of reaching the ground at d, as you suppose it would, it falls somewhere about e. _caroline._ it is precisely so; look emily, as i throw this ball directly upwards, how gravity and the resistance of the air conquer projection. now i will throw it upwards obliquely: see, the force of projection enables it, for an instant, to act in opposition to that of gravity; but it is soon brought down again. _mrs. b._ the curve-line which the ball has described, is called in geometry a _parabola_; but when the ball is thrown perpendicularly upwards, it will descend perpendicularly; because the force of projection, and that of gravity, are in the same line of direction. [illustration: plate iii.] we have noticed the centres of magnitude, and of motion; but i have not yet explained to you, what is meant by the _centre of gravity_; it is that point in a body, about which all the parts exactly balance each other; if therefore that point be supported, the body will not fall. do you understand this? _emily._ i think so; if the parts round about this point have an equal tendency to fall, they will be in equilibrium, and as long as this point is supported, the body cannot fall. _mrs. b._ caroline, what would be the effect, were the body supported in any other single point? _caroline._ the surrounding parts no longer balancing each other, the body, i suppose, would fall on the side at which the parts are heaviest. _mrs. b._ infallibly; whenever the centre of gravity is unsupported, the body must fall. this sometimes happens with an overloaded wagon winding up a steep hill, one side of the road being more elevated than the other; let us suppose it to slope as is described in this figure, (plate . fig. .) we will say, that the centre of gravity of this loaded wagon is at the point a. now your eye will tell you, that a wagon thus situated, will overset; and the reason is, that the centre of gravity a, is not supported; for if you draw a perpendicular line from it to the ground at c, it does not fall under the wagon within the wheels, and is therefore not supported by them. _caroline._ i understand that perfectly; but what is the meaning of the other point b? _mrs. b._ let us, in imagination take off the upper part of the load; the centre of gravity will then change its situation, and descend to b, as that will now be the point about which the parts of the less heavily laden wagon will balance each other. will the wagon now be upset? _caroline._ no, because a perpendicular line from that point falls within the wheels at d, and is supported by them; and when the centre of gravity is supported, the body will not fall. _emily._ yet i should not much like to pass a wagon in that situation, for, as you see, the point d is but just within the left wheel; if the right wheel was raised, by merely passing over a stone, the point d would be thrown on the outside of the left wheel, and the wagon would upset. _caroline._ a wagon, or any carriage whatever, will then be most firmly supported, when the centre of gravity falls exactly between the wheels; and that is the case in a level road. _mrs. b._ the centre of gravity of the human body, is a point somewhere in a line extending perpendicularly through the middle of it, and as long as we stand upright, this point is supported by the feet; if you lean on one side, you will find that you no longer stand firm. a rope-dancer performs all his feats of agility, by dexterously supporting his centre of gravity; whenever he finds that he is in danger of losing his balance, he shifts the heavy pole which he holds in his hands, in order to throw the weight towards the side that is deficient; and thus by changing the situation of the centre of gravity, he restores his equilibrium. _caroline._ when a stick is poised on the tip of the finger, is it not by supporting its centre of gravity? _mrs. b._ yes; and it is because the centre of gravity is not supported, that spherical bodies roll down a slope. a sphere being perfectly round, can touch the slope but by a single point, and that point cannot be perpendicularly under the centre of gravity, and therefore cannot be supported, as you will perceive by examining this figure. (fig. . plate .) _emily._ so it appears: yet i have seen a cylinder of wood roll up a slope; how is that contrived? _mrs. b._ it is done by plugging or loading one side of the cylinder with lead, as at b, (fig. . plate .) the body being no longer of a uniform density, the centre of gravity is removed from the middle of the body to some point in or near the lead, as that substance is much heavier than wood; now you may observe that should this cylinder roll down the plane, as it is here situated, the centre of gravity must rise, which is impossible; the centre of gravity must always descend in moving, and will descend by the nearest and readiest means, which will be by forcing the cylinder up the slope, until the centre of gravity is supported, and then it stops. _caroline._ the centre of gravity, therefore, is not always in the middle of a body. _mrs. b._ no, that point we have called the centre of magnitude; when the body is of an uniform density, and of a regular form, as a cube, or sphere, the centres of gravity and of magnitude are in the same point; but when one part of the body is composed of heavier materials than another, the centre of gravity can no longer correspond with the centre of magnitude. thus you see the centre of gravity of this cylinder plugged with lead, cannot be in the same spot as the centre of magnitude. _emily._ bodies, therefore, consisting but of one kind of substance, as wood, stone, or lead, and whose densities are consequently uniform, must stand more firmly, and be more difficult to overset, than bodies composed of a variety of substances, of different densities, which may throw the centre of gravity on one side. _mrs. b._ that depends upon the situation of the materials; if those which are most dense, occupy the lower part, the stability will be increased, as the centre of gravity will be near the base. but there is another circumstance which more materially affects the firmness of their position, and that is their form. bodies that have a narrow base are easily upset, for if they are a little inclined, their centre of gravity is no longer supported, as you may perceive in fig. . _caroline._ i have often observed with what difficulty a person carries a single pail of water; it is owing, i suppose, to the centre of gravity being thrown on one side; and the opposite arm is stretched out to endeavour to bring it back to its original situation; but a pail hanging to each arm is carried with less difficulty, because they balance each other, and the centre of gravity remains supported by the feet. _mrs. b._ very well; i have but one more remark to make on the centre of gravity, which is, that when two bodies are fastened together by an inflexible rod, they are to be considered as forming but one body; if the two bodies be of equal weight, the centre of gravity will be in the middle of the line which unites them, (fig. .) but if one be heavier than the other, the centre of gravity will be proportionally nearer the heavy body than the light one. (fig. .) if you were to carry a rod or pole with an equal weight fastened at each end of it, you would hold it in the middle of the rod, in order that the weights should balance each other; whilst if the weights were unequal, you would hold it nearest the greater weight, to make them balance each other. _emily._ and in both cases we should support the centre of gravity; and if one weight be very considerably larger than the other, the centre of gravity will be thrown out of the rod into the heaviest weight. (fig. .) _mrs. b._ undoubtedly. questions . (pg. ) if a body be struck by two equal forces in opposite directions, what will be the result? . (pg. ) what is fig. . plate . intended to represent? . (pg. ) how would the ball move, and how would you represent the direction of its motion? . (pg. ) what is supposed respecting the forces represented in fig. ? . (pg. ) how would the body move if so impelled? . (pg. ) if the forces are unequal and not at right angles, how would the body move, as illustrated by fig. ? . (pg. ) how must a body be acted on, to produce motion in a curve, and what example is given? . (pg. ) when is a body said to revolve in a plane, and what is meant by the centre of motion? . (pg. ) what is intended by the axis of motion, and what are examples? . (pg. ) what is the middle point of a body called? . (pg. ) what is said of the axis of motion, whilst the body is revolving? . (pg. ) when a body revolves on an axis, do all its parts move with equal velocity? . (pg. ) how is this explained by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what are the two forces called which cause a body to move in a curve; and what proportion do these two forces bear to each other when a body revolves round a centre? . (pg. ) if the centripetal force were destroyed, how would a body be carried by the centrifugal? . (pg. ) explain what is meant by a _tangent_, as shown in fig. . plate . . (pg. ) what forces impede a body thrown horizontally? . (pg. ) give the reason why a body so projected, falls in a curve. (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) the curve in which it falls, is not a part of a true circle: what is it denominated? . (pg. ) what is the _centre of gravity_ defined to be? . (pg. ) what results from supporting, or not supporting the centre of gravity? . (pg. ) what is intended to be explained by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what would be the effect of taking off the upper portion of the load? . (pg. ) when will a carriage stand most firmly? . (pg. ) what is said of the centre of gravity of the human body, and how does a rope dancer preserve his equilibrium? . (pg. ) why cannot a sphere remain at rest on an inclined plane? (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) a cylinder of wood, may be made to rise to a small distance up an inclined plane. how may this be effected? (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) when do we find the centres of gravity, and of magnitude in different points? . (pg. ) what influence will the density of the parts of a body exert upon its stability? . (pg. ) what other circumstance materially affects the firmness of position? (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) why is it more easy to carry a weight in each hand, than in one only? . (pg. ) what is said respecting two bodies united by an inflexible rod? . (pg. ) what is fig. , plate , intended to illustrate? what fig. ; what fig. ? conversation v. on the mechanical powers. of the power of machines. of the lever in general. of the lever of the first kind, having the fulcrum between the power and the weight. of the lever of the second kind, having the weight between the power and the fulcrum. of the lever of the third kind, having the power between the fulcrum and the weight. mrs. b. we may now proceed to examine the mechanical powers; they are six in number: the _lever_, the _pulley_, the _wheel_ and _axle_, the _inclined plane_, the _wedge_ and the _screw_; one or more of which enters into the composition of every machine. a mechanical power is an instrument by which the effect of a given force is increased, whilst the force remains the same. in order to understand the power of a machine, there are four things to be considered. st. the power that acts: this consists in the effort of men or horses, of weights, springs, steam, &c. dly. the resistance which is to be overcome by the power: this is generally a weight to be moved. the power must always be superior to the resistance, otherwise the machine could not be put in motion. _caroline._ if for instance the resistance of a carriage was greater than the strength of the horses employed to draw it, they would not be able to make it move. _mrs. b._ dly. we are to consider the support or prop, or as it is termed in mechanics, the _fulcrum_; this you may recollect is the point upon which the body turns when in motion; and lastly, the respective velocities of the power, and of the resistance. _emily._ that must in general depend upon their respective distances from the fulcrum, or from the axis of motion; as we observed in the motion of the vanes of the windmill. _mrs. b._ we shall now examine the power of the lever. the _lever is an inflexible rod or bar, moveable about a fulcrum, and having forces applied to two or more points on it_. for instance, the steel rod to which these scales are suspended is a lever, and the point in which it is supported, the fulcrum, or centre of motion; now, can you tell me why the two scales are in equilibrium? _caroline._ being both empty, and of the same weight, they balance each other. _emily._ or, more correctly speaking, because the centre of gravity common to both, is supported. _mrs. b._ very well; and where is the centre of gravity of this pair of scales? (fig. . plate .) _emily._ you have told us that when two bodies of equal weight were fastened together, the centre of gravity was in the middle of the line that connected them; the centre of gravity of the scales must therefore be supported by the fulcrum f of the lever which unites the two scales, and which is the centre of motion. _caroline._ but if the scales contained different weights, the centre of gravity would no longer be in the fulcrum of the lever, but remove towards that scale which contained the heaviest weight; and since that point would no longer be supported, the heavy scale would descend, and out-weigh the other. _mrs. b._ true; but tell me, can you imagine any mode by which bodies of different weights can be made to balance each other, either in a pair of scales, or simply suspended to the extremities of the lever? for the scales are not an essential part of the machine; they have no mechanical power, and are used merely for the convenience of containing the substance to be weighed. _caroline._ what! make a light body balance a heavy one? i cannot conceive that possible. _mrs. b._ the fulcrum of this pair of scales (fig. .) is moveable, you see; i can take it off the beam, and fasten it on again in another part; this part is now become the fulcrum, but it is no longer in the centre of the lever. _caroline._ and the scales are no longer true; for that which hangs on the longest side of the lever descends. _mrs. b._ the two parts of the lever divided by the fulcrum, are called its arms; you should therefore say the longest arm, not the longest side of the lever. your observation is true that the balance is now destroyed; but it will answer the purpose of enabling you to comprehend the power of a lever, when the fulcrum is not in the centre. _emily._ this would be an excellent contrivance for those who cheat in the weight of their goods; by making the fulcrum a little on one side, and placing the goods in the scale which is suspended to the longest arm of the lever, they would appear to weigh more than they do in reality. _mrs. b._ you do not consider how easily the fraud would be detected; for on the scales being emptied they would not hang in equilibrium. if indeed the scale on the shorter arm was made heavier, so as to balance that on the longer, they would appear to be true, whilst they were really false. _emily._ true; i did not think of that circumstance. but i do not understand why the longest arm of the lever should not be in equilibrium with the other? _caroline._ it is because the momentum in the longest, is greater than in the shortest arm; the centre of gravity, therefore, is no longer supported. _mrs. b._ you are right, the fulcrum is no longer in the centre of gravity; but if we can contrive to make the fulcrum in its present situation become the centre of gravity, the scales will again balance each other; for you recollect that the centre of gravity is that point about which every part of the body is in equilibrium. _emily._ it has just occurred to me how this may be accomplished; put a great weight into the scale suspended to the shortest arm of the lever, and a smaller one into that suspended to the longest arm. yes, i have discovered it--look mrs. b., the scale on the shortest arm will carry lbs., and that on the longest arm only one, to restore the balance. (fig. .) _mrs. b._ you see, therefore, that it is not so impracticable as you imagined, to make a heavy body balance a light one; and this is in fact the means by which you observed that an imposition in the weight of goods might be effected, as a weight of ten or twelve ounces, might thus be made to balance a pound of goods. if you measure both arms of the lever, you will find that the length of the longer arm, is three times that of the shorter; and that to produce an equilibrium, the weights must bear the same proportion to each other, and that the greater weight, must be on the shorter arm. let us now take off the scales, that we may consider the lever simply; and in this state you see that the fulcrum is no longer the centre of gravity, because it has been removed from the middle of the lever; but it is, and must ever be, the centre of motion, as it is the only point which remains at rest, while the other parts move about it. [illustration: plate iv.] _caroline._ the arms of the lever being different in length, it now exactly resembles the steelyards, with which articles are so frequently weighed. _mrs. b._ it may in fact be considered as a pair of steelyards, by which the same power enables us to ascertain the weight of different articles, by simply increasing the distance of the power from the fulcrum; you know that the farther a body is from the axis of motion, the greater is its velocity. _caroline._ that i remember, and understand perfectly. _mrs. b._ you comprehend then, that the extremity of the longest arm of a lever, must move with greater velocity than that of the shortest arm, and that its momentum is greater in proportion. _emily._ no doubt, because it is farthest from the centre of motion. and pray, mrs. b., when my brothers play at _see-saw_, is not the plank on which they ride, a kind of lever? _mrs. b._ certainly; the log of wood which supports it from the ground is the fulcrum, and those who ride, represent the power and the resistance at the ends of the lever. and have you not observed that when those who ride are of equal weight, the plank must be supported in the middle, to make the two arms equal; whilst if the persons differ in weight, the plank must be drawn a little farther over the prop, to make the arms unequal, and the lightest person, who may be supposed to represent the power, must be placed at the extremity of the longest arm. _caroline._ that is always the case when i ride on a plank with my youngest brother; i have observed also that the lightest person has the best ride, as he moves both further and quicker; and i now understand that it is because he is more distant from the centre of motion. _mrs. b._ the greater velocity with which your little brother moves, renders his momentum equal to yours. _caroline._ yes; i have the most weight, he the greatest velocity; so that upon the whole our momentums are equal. but you said, mrs. b., that the power should be greater than the resistance, to put the machine in motion; how then can the plank move if the momentums of the persons who ride are equal? _mrs. b._ because each person at his descent touches and pushes against the ground with his feet; the reaction of which gives him an impulse which produces the motion; this spring is requisite to destroy the equilibrium of the power and the resistance, otherwise the plank would not move. did you ever observe that a lever describes the arc of a circle in its motion? _emily._ no; it appears to me to rise and descend perpendicularly; at least i always thought so. _mrs. b._ i believe i must make a sketch of you and your brother riding on a plank, in order to convince you of your error. (fig. . plate .) you may now observe that a lever can move only round the fulcrum, since that is the centre of motion; it would be impossible for you to rise perpendicularly, to the point a; or for your brother to descend in a straight line, to the point b; you must in rising, and he in descending, describe arcs of your respective circles. this drawing shows you also how much superior his velocity must be to yours; for if you could swing quite round, you would each complete your respective circles, in the same time. _caroline._ my brother's circle being much the largest, he must undoubtedly move the quickest. _mrs. b._ now tell me, do you think that your brother could raise you as easily without the aid of a lever? _caroline._ oh no, he could not lift me off the ground. _mrs. b._ then i think you require no further proof of the power of a lever, since you see what it enables your brother to perform. _caroline._ i now understand what you meant by saying, that in mechanics, velocity is opposed to weight, for it is my brother's velocity which overcomes my weight. _mrs. b._ you may easily imagine, what enormous weights may be raised by levers of this description, for the longer, when compared with the other, that arm is to which the power is applied, the greater will be the effect produced by it; because the greater is the velocity of the power compared to that of the weight. levers are of three kinds; in the first the fulcrum is between the power and the weight. _caroline._ this kind then comprehends the several levers you have described. _mrs. b._ yes, when in levers of the first kind, the fulcrum is equally distant from the power and the weight, as in the balance, there will be an equilibrium, when the power and the weight are equal to each other; it is not then a mechanical power, for nothing can in this case be gained by velocity; the two arms of the lever being equal, the velocity of their extremities must be so likewise. the balance is therefore of no assistance as a mechanical power, although it is extremely useful in estimating the respective weights of bodies. but when (fig. .) the fulcrum f of a lever is not equally distant from the power and the weight, and the power p acts at the extremity of the longest arm, it may be less than the weight w; its deficiency being compensated by its superior velocity, as we observed in the _see-saw_. _emily._ then when we want to lift a great weight, we must fasten it to the shortest arm of a lever, and apply our strength to the longest arm? _mrs. b._ if the case will admit of your putting the end of the lever under the resisting body, no fastening will be required; as you will perceive, when a nail is drawn by means of a hammer, which, though bent, is a lever of the first kind; the handle being the longest arm, the point on which it rests, the fulcrum, and the distance from that to the part which holds the nail, the short arm. but let me hear, caroline, whether you can explain the action of this instrument, which is composed of two levers united in one common fulcrum. _caroline._ a pair of scissors! _mrs. b._ you are surprised; but if you examine their construction, you will discover that it is the power of the lever, that assists us in cutting with scissors. _caroline._ yes; i now perceive that the point at which the two levers are screwed together, is the fulcrum; the power of the fingers is applied to the handles, and the article to be cut, is the resistance; therefore, the longer the handles, and the shorter the points of the scissors, the more easily you cut with them. _emily._ that i have often observed, for when i cut paste-board or any hard substance, i always make use of that part of the scissors nearest the screw or rivet, and i now understand why it increases the power of cutting; but i confess that i never should have discovered scissors to have been double levers; and pray are not snuffers levers of a similar description? _mrs. b._ yes, and most kinds of pincers; the great power of which consists in the great relative length of the handles. did you ever notice the swingle-tree of a carriage to which the horses are attached when drawing? _emily._ o yes; this is a lever of the first kind, but the fulcrum being in the middle, the horses should draw with equal power, whatever may be their strength. _mrs. b._ that is generally the case, but it is evident that by making one arm longer than the other, it might be adapted to horses of unequal strength. _caroline._ and of what nature are the other two kinds of levers? _mrs. b._ in levers of the second kind, the weight, instead of being at one end, is situated between the power and the fulcrum, (fig. .) _caroline._ the weight and the fulcrum have here changed places; and what advantage is gained by this kind of lever? _mrs. b._ in moving it, the velocity of the power must necessarily be greater than that of the weight, as it is more distant from the centre of the motion. have you ever seen your brother move a snow-ball by means of a strong stick, when it became too heavy for him to move without assistance? _caroline._ oh yes; and this was a lever of the second kind, (fig. .) the end of the stick, which he thrusts under the ball, and which rests on the ground, becomes the fulcrum; the ball is the weight to be moved, and the power his hands, applied to the other end of the lever. in this instance there is a great difference in the length of the arms of the lever; for the weight is almost close to the fulcrum. _mrs. b._ and the advantage gained is proportional to this difference. the most common example that we have of levers of the second kind, is in the doors of our apartments. _emily._ the hinges represent the fulcrum, our hands the power applied to the other end of the lever; but where is the weight to be moved? _mrs. b._ the door is the weight, which in this example occupies the whole of the space between the power and the fulcrum. nut crackers are double levers of this kind: the hinge is the fulcrum, the nut the resistance, and the hands the power. in levers of the third kind (fig. .) the fulcrum is again at one extremity, the weight or resistance at the other, and the power is applied between the fulcrum and the resistance. _emily._ the fulcrum, the weight, or the power, then, each in its turn, occupies some part of the lever between its extremities. but in this third kind of lever, the weight being farther than the power from the centre of motion, the difficulty of raising it seems increased rather than diminished. _mrs. b._ that is very true; a lever of this kind is therefore never used, unless absolutely necessary, as is the case in raising a ladder in order to place it against a wall; the man who raises it cannot place his hands on the upper part of the ladder, the power, therefore, is necessarily placed much nearer to the fulcrum than to the weight. _caroline._ yes, the hands are the power, the ground the fulcrum, and the upper part of the ladder the weight. _mrs. b._ nature employs this kind of lever in the structure of the human frame. in lifting a weight with the hand, the lower part of the arm becomes a lever of the third kind; the elbow is the fulcrum, the muscles of the fleshy part of the arm, the power; and as these are nearer to the elbow than to the hand, it is necessary that their power should exceed the weight to be raised. _emily._ is it not surprising that nature should have furnished us with such disadvantageous levers? _mrs. b._ the disadvantage, in respect to power, is more than counterbalanced by the convenience resulting from this structure of the arm; and it is that no doubt which is best adapted to enable it to perform its various functions. there is one rule which applies to every lever, which is this: in order to produce an equilibrium, the power must bear the same proportion to the weight, as the length of the shorter arm does to that of the longer; as was shown by emily with the weights of _lb._ and of _lb._ fig. . plate . we have dwelt so long on the lever, that we must reserve the examination of the other mechanical powers, to our next interview. questions . (pg. ) how many mechanical powers are there, and what are they named? . (pg. ) what is a mechanical power defined to be? . (pg. ) what four particulars must be observed? . (pg. ) upon what will the velocities depend? . (pg. ) what is a lever? . (pg. ) give a familiar example. . (pg. ) when and why do the scales balance each other, and where is their centre of gravity? (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) why would they not balance with unequal weights? . (pg. ) were the fulcrum removed from the middle of the beam what would result? . (pg. ) what do we mean by the arms of a lever? . (pg. ) how may a pair of scales be false, and yet appear to be true? . (pg. ) if the fulcrum be removed from the centre of gravity, how may the equilibrium be restored? . (pg. ) how is this exemplified by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what proportion must the weights bear to the lengths of the arms? . (pg. ) on what principle do we weigh with a pair of steelyards, and what will be the difference in the motion of the extremities of such a lever? . (pg. ) how is this exemplified by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what line is described by the ends of a lever? fig. . plate . . (pg. ) how many kinds are there; and in the first how is the fulcrum situated? . (pg. ) when may the fulcrum be so situated that this lever is not a mechanical power, and why? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) give a familiar example of the use of a lever of the first kind. . (pg. ) in what instruments are two such levers combined? . (pg. ) how may two horses of unequal strength, be advantageously coupled in a carriage? . (pg. ) describe a lever of the second kind. (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) what is represented in fig. . plate , and in what proportion does this lever gain power? . (pg. ) what is said respecting a door? . (pg. ) describe a lever of the third kind. . (pg. ) in what instance do we use this? . (pg. ) what remarks are made on its employment in the limbs of animals? . (pg. ) what are the conditions of equilibrium in every lever? conversation v. continued. on the mechanical powers. of the pulley. of the wheel and axle. of the inclined plane. of the wedge. of the screw. mrs. b. the pulley is the second mechanical power we are to examine. you both, i suppose, have seen a pulley? _caroline._ yes, frequently: it is a circular, and flat piece of wood or metal, with a string which runs in a groove round it: by means of which, a weight may be pulled up; thus pulleys are used for drawing up curtains. _mrs. b._ yes; but in that instance the pulleys are fixed; that is, they retain their places, and merely turn round on their axis; these do not increase the power to raise the weights, as you will perceive by this figure. (plate . fig. .) observe that the fixed pulley is on the same principle as the lever of a pair of scales, in which the fulcrum f being in the centre of gravity, the power p and the weight w, are equally distant from it, and no advantage is gained. _emily._ certainly; if p represents the power employed to raise the weight w, the power must be greater than the weight in order to move it. but of what use then is a fixed pulley in mechanics? _mrs. b._ although it does not increase the power, it is frequently useful for altering its direction. a single fixed pulley enables us to draw a curtain up, by pulling the string connected with it downwards; and we should be at a loss to accomplish this simple operation without its assistance. _caroline._ there would certainly be some difficulty in ascending to the head of the curtain, in order to draw it up. indeed i now recollect having seen workmen raise weights to a considerable height by means of a fixed pulley, which saved them the trouble of going up themselves. _mrs. b._ the next figure represents a pulley which is not fixed; (fig. .) and thus situated, you will perceive that it affords us mechanical assistance. a is a moveable pulley; that is, one which is attached to the weight to be raised, and which consequently moves up or down with it. there is also a fixed pulley d, which is only of use to change the direction of the power p. now it is evident that the velocity of the power, will be double that of the weight w; for if the rope be pulled at p, until the pulley a ascends with the weight to the fixed pulley d, then both parts of the rope, c and b, must pass over the fixed pulley, and consequently the hand at p, will have descended through a space equal to those two parts; but the weight will have ascended only one half of that distance. _caroline._ that i understand: if p drew the string but one inch, the weight would be raised only half an inch, because it would shorten the strings b and c half an inch each, and consequently the pulley with the weight attached to it, can be raised only half an inch. _emily._ but i do not yet understand the advantage of moveable pulleys; they seem to me to increase rather than diminish the difficulty of raising weights, since you must draw the string double the length that you raise the weight; whilst with a single pulley, or without any pulley, the weight is raised as much as the string is shortened. _mrs. b._ the advantage of a moveable pulley consists in dividing the difficulty; we must, it is true, draw twice the length of the string, but then only half the strength is required that would be necessary to raise the weight without the assistance of a moveable pulley. _emily._ so that the difficulty is overcome in the same manner as it would be, by dividing the weight into two equal parts, and raising them successively. _mrs. b._ exactly. you must observe, that with a moveable pulley the velocity of the power, is double that of the weight; since the power p (fig. .) moves two inches whilst the weight w moves one inch; therefore the power need not be more than half the weight, to make their momentums equal. _caroline._ pulleys act then on the same principle as the lever; the deficiency of weight in the power, being compensated by its superior velocity, so as to make their momentums equal. _mrs. b._ you will find, that all gain of power in mechanics is founded on the same principle. _emily._ but may it not be objected to pulleys, that a longer time is required to raise a weight by their aid, than without it? for what you gain in power, you lose in time. _mrs. b._ that, my dear, is the fundamental law in mechanics: it is the case with the lever, as well as the pulley; and you will find it to be so with all the other mechanical powers. _caroline._ i do not see any advantage in the mechanical powers then, if what we gain by them in one way, is lost in another. _mrs. b._ since we are not able to increase our natural strength is not any instrument of obvious utility, by means of which we may reduce the resistance or weight of any body, to the level of that strength? this the mechanical powers enable us to accomplish. it is true, as you observe, that it requires a sacrifice of time to attain this end, but you must be sensible how very advantageously it is exchanged for power. if one man by his natural strength could raise one hundred pounds only, it would require five such men to raise five hundred pounds; and if one man performs this by the help of a suitable engine, there is then no actual loss of time; as he does the work of five men, although he is five times as long in its accomplishment. you can now understand, that the greater the number of moveable pulleys connected by a string, the more easily the weight is raised; as the difficulty is divided amongst the number of strings, or rather of parts into which the string is divided, by the pulleys. two, or more pulleys thus connected, form what is called a tackle, or system of pulleys. (fig. .) you may have seen them suspended from cranes to raise goods into warehouses. _emily._ when there are two moveable pulleys, as in the figure you have shown to us, (fig. .) there must also be two fixed pulleys, for the purpose of changing the direction of the string, and then the weight is supported by four strings, and of course, each must bear only one fourth part of the weight. _mrs. b._ you are perfectly correct, and the rule for estimating the power gained by a system of pulleys, is to count the number of strings by which the weight is supported; or, which amounts to the same thing, to multiply the number of moveable pulleys by two. in shipping, the advantages of both an increase of power, and a change of direction, by means of pulleys, are of essential importance: for the sails are raised up the masts by the sailors on deck, from the change of direction which the pulley effects, and the labour is facilitated by the mechanical power of a combination of pulleys. [illustration: plate v.] _emily._ but the pulleys on ship-board do not appear to me to be united in the manner you have shown us. _mrs. b._ they are, i believe, generally connected as described in figure , both for nautical, and a variety of other purposes; but in whatever manner pulleys are connected by a single string, the mechanical power is the same. the third mechanical power, is the wheel and axle. let us suppose (plate . fig. ) the weight w, to be a bucket of water in a well, which we raise by winding round the axle the rope, to which it is attached; if this be done without a wheel to turn the axle, no mechanical assistance is received. the axle without a wheel is as impotent as a single fixed pulley, or a lever, whose fulcrum is in the centre: but add the wheel to the axle, and you will immediately find the bucket is raised with much less difficulty. the velocity of the circumference of the wheel is as much greater than that of the axle, as it is further from the centre of motion; for the wheel describes a great circle in the same space of time that the axle describes a small one, therefore the power is increased in the same proportion as the circumference of the wheel is greater than that of the axle. if the velocity of the wheel is twelve times greater than that of the axle, a power twelve times less than the weight of the bucket, would balance it; and a small increase would raise it. _emily._ the axle acts the part of the shorter arm of the lever, the wheel that of the longer arm. _caroline._ in raising water, there is commonly, i believe, instead of a wheel attached to the axle, only a crooked handle, which answers the purpose of winding the rope round the axle, and thus raising the bucket. _mrs. b._ in this manner (fig. ;) now if you observe the dotted circle which the handle describes in winding up the rope, you will perceive that the branch of the handle a, which is united to the axle, represents the spoke of a wheel, and answers the purpose of an entire wheel; the other branch b affords no mechanical aid, merely serving as a handle to turn the wheel. wheels are a very essential part of most machines; they are employed in various ways; but, when fixed to the axle, their mechanical power is always the same: that is, as the circumference of the wheel exceeds that of the axle, so much will the energy of the power be increased. _caroline._ then the larger the wheel, in proportion to the axle, the greater must be its effect? _mrs. b._ certainly. if you have ever seen any considerable mills or manufactures, you must have admired the immense wheel, the revolution of which puts the whole of the machinery into motion; and though so great an effect is produced by it, a horse or two has sufficient power to turn it; sometimes a stream of water is used for that purpose, but of late years, a steam-engine has been found both the most powerful and the most convenient mode of turning the wheel. _caroline._ do not the vanes of a windmill represent a wheel, mrs. b.? _mrs. b._ yes; and in this instance we have the advantage of a gratuitous force, the wind, to turn the wheel. one of the great benefits resulting from the use of machinery is, that it gives us a sort of empire over the powers of nature, and enables us to make them perform the labour which would otherwise fall to the lot of man. when a current of wind, a stream of water, or the expansive force of steam, performs our task, we have only to superintend and regulate their operations. the fourth mechanical power is the inclined plane; this is generally nothing more than a plank placed in a sloping direction, which is frequently used to facilitate the raising of weights, to a small height, such as the rolling of hogsheads or barrels into a warehouse. it is not difficult to understand, that a weight may much more easily be rolled up a slope than it can be raised the same height perpendicularly. but in this, as well as the other mechanical powers, the facility is purchased by a loss of time (fig. ;) for the weight, instead of moving directly from a to c, must move from b to c, and as the length of the plane is to its height, so much is the resistance of the weight diminished. _emily._ yes; for the resistance, instead of being confined to the short line a c, is spread over the long line b c. _mrs. b._ the wedge, which is the next mechanical power, is usually viewed as composed of two inclined planes (fig. :) you may have seen wood-cutters use it to cleave wood. the resistance consists in the cohesive attraction of the wood, or any other body which the wedge is employed to separate; the advantage gained by this power is differently estimated by philosophers; but one thing is certain, its power is increased, in proportion to the decrease of its thickness, compared with its length. the wedge is a very powerful instrument, but it is always driven forward by blows from a hammer, or some other body having considerable momentum. _emily._ the wedge, then, is rather a compound than a distinct mechanical power, since it is not propelled by simple pressure, or weight, like the other powers. _mrs. b._ it is so. all cutting instruments are constructed upon the principle of the inclined plane, or the wedge: those that have but one edge sloped, like the chisel, may be referred to the inclined plane; whilst the axe, the hatchet, and the knife, (when used to split asunder) are used as wedges. _caroline._ but a knife cuts best when it is drawn across the substance it is to divide. we use it thus in cutting meat, we do not chop it to pieces. _mrs. b._ the reason of this is, that the edge of a knife is really a very fine saw, and therefore acts best when used like that instrument. the screw, which is the last mechanical power, is more complicated than the others. you will see by this figure, (fig. .) that it is composed of two parts, the screw and the nut. the screw s is a cylinder, with a spiral protuberance coiled round it, called the thread; the nut n is perforated to receive the screw, and the inside of the nut has a spiral groove, made to fit the spiral thread of the screw. _caroline._ it is just like this little box, the lid of which screws on the box as you have described; but what is this handle l which projects from the nut? _mrs. b._ it is a lever, which is attached to the nut, without which the screw is never used as a mechanical power. the power of the screw, complicated as it appears, is referable to one of the most simple of the mechanical powers; which of them do you think it is? _caroline._ in appearance, it most resembles the wheel and axle. _mrs. b._ the lever, it is true, has the effect of a wheel, as it is the means by which you turn the nut, or sometimes the screw, round; but the lever is not considered as composing a part of the screw, though it is true, that it is necessarily attached to it. _emily._ the spiral thread of the screw resembles, i think, an inclined plane: it is a sort of slope, by means of which the nut ascends more easily than it would do if raised perpendicularly; and it serves to support it when at rest. _mrs. b._ very well: if you cut a slip of paper in the form of an inclined plane, and wind it round your pencil, which will represent the cylinder, you will find that it makes a spiral line, corresponding to the spiral protuberance of the screw. (fig. .) _emily._ very true; the nut then ascends an inclined plane, but ascends it in a spiral, instead of a straight line: the closer the threads of the screw, the more easy the ascent: it is like having shallow, instead of steep steps to ascend. _mrs. b._ yes; excepting that the nut takes no steps, as it gradually winds up or down; then observe, that the closer the threads of the screw, the less is its ascent in turning round, and the greater is its power; so that we return to the old principle,--what is saved in power is lost in time. _emily._ cannot the power of the screw be increased also, by lengthening the lever attached to the nut? _mrs. b._ certainly. the screw, with the addition of the lever, forms a very powerful machine, employed either for compression or to raise heavy weights. it is used by book-binders, to press the leaves of books together; it is used also in cider and wine presses, in coining, and for a variety of other purposes. _emily._ pray, mrs. b., by what rule do you estimate the power of the screw? _mrs. b._ by measuring the circumference of the circle, which the end of the lever would form in one whole revolution, and comparing this with the distance from the centre of one thread of the screw, to that of its next contiguous turn; for whilst the lever travels that whole distance, the screw rises or falls only through the distance from one coil to another. _caroline._ i think that i have sometimes seen the lever attached to the screw, and not to the nut, as it is represented in the figure. _mrs. b._ this is frequently done, but it does not in any degree affect the power of the instrument. all machines are composed of one or more of these six mechanical powers we have examined; i have but one more remark to make to you relative to them, which is, that friction in a considerable degree diminishes their force: allowance must therefore always be made for it, in the construction of machinery. _caroline._ by friction, do you mean one part of the machine rubbing against another part contiguous to it? _mrs. b._ yes; friction is the resistance which bodies meet with in rubbing against each other; there is no such thing as perfect smoothness or evenness in nature; polished metals, though they wear that appearance more than most other bodies, are far from really possessing it; and their inequalities may frequently be perceived through a good magnifying glass. when, therefore, the surfaces of the two bodies come in contact, the prominent parts of the one, will often fall into the hollow parts of the other, and occasion more or less resistance to motion. _caroline._ but if a machine is made of polished metal, as a watch for instance, the friction must be very trifling? _mrs. b._ in proportion as the surfaces of bodies are well polished, the friction is doubtless diminished; but it is always considerable, and it is usually computed to destroy one-third of the power of a machine. oil or grease is used to lessen friction: it acts as a polish, by filling up the cavities of the rubbing surfaces, and thus making them slide more easily over each other. _caroline._ is it for this reason that wheels are greased, and the locks and hinges of doors oiled? _mrs. b._ yes; in these instances the contact of the rubbing surfaces is so close, and they are so constantly in use, that they require to be frequently oiled, or a considerable degree of friction is produced. there are two kinds of friction; the first is occasioned by the rubbing of the surfaces of bodies against each other, the second, by the rolling of a circular body; as that of a carriage wheel upon the ground: the friction resulting from the first is much the most considerable, for great force is required to enable the sliding body to overcome the resistance which the asperities of the surfaces in contact oppose to its motion, and it must be either lifted over, or break through them; whilst, in the second kind of friction, the rough parts roll over each other with comparative facility; hence it is, that wheels are often used for the sole purpose of diminishing the resistance from friction. _emily._ this is one of the advantages of carriage wheels, is it not? _mrs. b._ yes; and the larger the circumference of the wheel the more readily it can overcome any considerable obstacles, such as stones, or inequalities in the road. when, in descending a steep hill, we fasten one of the wheels, we decrease the velocity of the carriage, by increasing the friction. _caroline._ that is to say, by converting the rolling friction into the rubbing friction. and when you had casters put to the legs of the table, in order to move it more easily, you changed the rubbing into the rolling friction. _mrs. b._ there is another circumstance which we have already noticed, as diminishing the motion of bodies, and which greatly affects the power of machines. this is the resistance of the medium, in which a machine is worked. all fluids, whether elastic like air, or non-elastic like water and other liquids, are called mediums; and their resistance is proportioned to their density; for the more matter a body contains, the greater the resistance it will oppose to the motion of another body striking against it. _emily._ it would then be much more difficult to work a machine under water than in the air? _mrs. b._ certainly, if a machine could be worked in _vacuo_, and without friction, it would not be impeded, but this is unattainable; a considerable reduction of power must therefore be allowed for, from friction and the resistance of the medium. we shall here conclude our observations on the mechanical powers. at our next meeting i shall endeavour to give you an explanation of the motion of the heavenly bodies. questions . (pg. ) describe a pulley, and its use. . (pg. ) what is meant by a fixed pulley and why is not power gained by its employment? (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) of what use is the fixed pulley? . (pg. ) how is the power gained by a moveable pulley, explained by means of fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what proportion must the power bear to the weight in fig. , that their momentums may be equal? . (pg. ) what is a fundamental law as respects power and time? . (pg. ) if to gain power we must lose time, what advantage do we derive from the mechanical powers? . (pg. ) what name is given to two or more pulleys connected by one string? . (pg. ) how do we estimate the power gained by a system of pulleys? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) how does the wheel operate in increasing power? . (pg. ) how is this compared with the lever? . (pg. ) how does a handle fixed to an axle, represent a wheel, fig. ? . (pg. ) how could we increase the power in this instrument? . (pg. ) what other forces besides the power of men, do we employ to move machines? . (pg. ) what will serve as an example of an inclined plane? . (pg. ) in what proportion does it gain power? (fig. .) . (pg. ) to what is the wedge compared? (fig. .) . (pg. ) how does its power increase? . (pg. ) why is it rather a compound than a simple power? . (pg. ) what common instruments act upon the principle of the inclined plane, or the wedge? . (pg. ) why does a knife cut best when drawn across? . (pg. ) the screw has two essential parts; what are they? . (pg. ) what other instrument is used to turn the screw? . (pg. ) how can you compare the screw with an inclined plane? fig. . . (pg. ) by what two means may the power of the screw be increased? . (pg. ) how do we estimate the power gained by the screw? . (pg. ) is the lever always attached to the nut, as in the figure? . (pg. ) what is said respecting the composition of all machines, and for what must allowance always be made in estimating their power? . (pg. ) what is meant by friction, and what causes it? . (pg. ) how may friction be diminished? . (pg. ) friction is of two kinds, what are they? . (pg. ) for what purpose are wheels often used? . (pg. ) when is the friction of a carriage wheel changed from the rolling to the rubbing friction? . (pg. ) what is a medium, and in what proportion does it diminish motion? . (pg. ) under what circumstances must a body be placed, in order to move without impediment? conversation vi. causes of the motion of the heavenly bodies. of the earth's annual motion. of the planets and their motion. of the diurnal motion of the earth and planets. caroline. i am come to you to-day quite elated with the spirit of opposition, mrs. b.; for i have discovered such a powerful objection to your theory of attraction, that i doubt whether even your conjuror newton, with his magic wand of gravitation, will be able to dispel it. _mrs. b._ well, my dear, pray what is this weighty objection? [illustration: plate vi.] _caroline._ you say that the earth revolves in its orbit round the sun once in a year, and that bodies attract in proportion to the quantity of matter they contain; now we all know the sun to be much larger than the earth: why, therefore does it not draw the earth into itself; you will not, i suppose, pretend to say that we are falling towards the sun? _emily._ however plausible your objection appears, caroline, i think you place too much reliance upon it: when any one has given such convincing proofs of sagacity and wisdom as sir isaac newton, when we find that his opinions are universally received and adopted, is it to be expected that any objection we can advance should overturn them? _caroline._ yet i confess that i am not inclined to yield implicit faith even to opinions of the great newton: for what purpose are we endowed with reason, if we are denied the privilege of making use of it, by judging for ourselves. _mrs. b._ it is reason itself which teaches us, that when we, novices in science, start objections to theories established by men of knowledge and wisdom, we should be diffident rather of our own than of their opinion. i am far from wishing to lay the least restraint on your questions; you cannot be better convinced of the truth of a system, than by finding that it resists all your attacks, but i would advise you not to advance your objections with so much confidence, in order that the discovery of their fallacy may be attended with less mortification. in answer to that you have just proposed, i can only say, that the earth really is attracted by the sun. _caroline._ take care, at least, that we are not consumed by him, mrs. b. _mrs. b._ we are in no danger; but newton, our magician, as you are pleased to call him, cannot extricate himself from this difficulty without the aid of some cabalistical figures, which i must draw for him. let us suppose the earth, at its creation, to have been projected forwards into universal space: we know that if no obstacle impeded its course it would proceed in the same direction, and with a uniform velocity for ever. in fig. . plate , a represents the earth, and s the sun. we shall suppose the earth to be arrived at the point in which it is represented in the figure, having a velocity which would carry it on to b in the space of one month; whilst the sun's attraction would bring it to c in the same space of time. observe that the two forces of projection and attraction do not act in opposition, but perpendicularly, or at a right angle to each other. can you tell me now, how the earth will move? _emily._ i recollect your teaching us that a body acted upon by two forces perpendicular to each other, would move in the diagonal of a parallelogram; if, therefore, i complete the parallelogram, by drawing the lines c d, b d, the earth will move in the diagonal a d. _mrs. b._ a ball struck by two forces acting perpendicularly to each other, it is true, moves in the diagonal of a parallelogram; but you must observe that the force of attraction is continually acting upon our terrestrial ball, and producing an incessant deviation from its course in a right line, which converts it into that of a curve-line; every point of which may be considered as constituting the diagonal of an infinitely small parallelogram. let us retain the earth a moment at the point d, and consider how it will be affected by the combined action of the two forces in its new situation. it still retains its tendency to fly off in a straight line; but a straight line would now carry it away to f, whilst the sun would attract it in the direction d s; how then will it proceed? _emily._ it will go on in a curve-line, in a direction between that of the two forces. _mrs. b._ in order to know exactly what course the earth will follow, draw another parallelogram similar to the first, in which the line d f describes the force of projection, and the line d s that of attraction; and you will find that the earth will proceed in the curve-line d g. _caroline._ you must now allow me to draw a parallelogram, mrs. b. let me consider in what direction will the force of projection now impel the earth. _mrs. b._ first draw a line from the earth to the sun representing the force of attraction; then describe the force of projection at a right angle to it. _caroline._ the earth will then move in the curve g i, of the parallelogram g h i k. _mrs. b._ you recollect that a body acted upon by two forces, moves through a diagonal, in the same time that it would have moved through one of the sides of the parallelogram, were it acted upon by one force only. the earth has passed through the diagonals of these three parallelograms, in the space of three months, and has performed one quarter of a circle; and on the same principle it will go on till it has completed the whole of the circle. it will then recommence a course, which it has pursued ever since it first issued from the hand of its creator, and which there is every reason to suppose it will continue to follow, as long as it remains in existence. _emily._ what a grand and beautiful effect resulting from so simple a cause! _caroline._ it affords an example, on a magnificent scale, of the curvilinear motion, which you taught us in mechanics. the attraction of the sun is the centripetal force, which confines the earth to a centre; and the impulse of projection, the centrifugal force, which impels the earth to quit the sun, and fly off in a tangent. _mrs. b._ exactly so. a simple mode of illustrating the effect of these combined forces on the earth, is to cut a slip of card in the form of a carpenter's square, as a, b, c; (fig. . plate .) the point b will be a right angle, the sides of the square being perpendicular to each other; after having done this you are to describe a small circle at the angular point b, representing the earth, and to fasten the extremity of one of the legs of the square to a fixed point a, which we shall consider as the sun. thus situated, the two sides of the square will represent both the centrifugal and centripetal forces; a b, representing the centripetal, and b c, the centrifugal force; if you now draw it round the fixed point, you will see how the direction of the centrifugal force varies, constantly forming a tangent to the circle in which the earth moves, as it is constantly at a right angle with the centripetal force. _emily._ the earth then, gravitates towards the sun, without the slightest danger either of approaching nearer, or receding further from it. how admirably this is contrived! if the two forces which produce this curved motion, had not been so accurately adjusted, one would ultimately have prevailed over the other, and we should either have approached so near the sun as to have been burnt, or have receded so far from it as to have been frozen. _mrs. b._ what will you say, my dear, when i tell you, that these two forces are not, in fact, so proportioned as to produce circular motion in the earth? we actually revolve round the sun in an elliptical or oval orbit, the sun being situated in one of the foci or centres of the oval, so that the sun is at some periods much nearer to the earth, than at others. _caroline._ you must explain to us, at least, in what manner we avoid the threatened destruction. _mrs. b._ let us suppose that when the earth is at a, (fig. .) its projectile force should not have given it a velocity sufficient to counterbalance that of gravity, so as to enable these powers conjointly to carry it round the sun in a circle; the earth, instead of describing the line a c, as in the former figure, will approach nearer the sun in the line a b. _caroline._ under these circumstances, i see not what is to prevent our approaching nearer and nearer the sun, till we fall into it: for its attraction increases as we advance towards it, and produces an accelerated velocity in the earth, which increases the danger. _mrs. b._ there is another seeming danger, of which you are not aware. observe, that as the earth approaches the sun, the direction of its projectile force is no longer perpendicular to that of its attraction, but inclines more nearly to it. when the earth reaches that part of its orbit at b, the force of projection would carry it to d, which brings it nearer the sun instead of bearing it away from it. _emily._ if, then, we are driven by one power, and drawn by the other to this centre of destruction, how is it possible for us to escape? _mrs. b._ a little patience, and you will find that we are not without resource. the earth continues approaching the sun with a uniformly increasing accelerated motion, till it reaches the point e; in what direction will the projectile force now impel it? _emily._ in the direction e f. here then the two forces act perpendicularly to each other, the lines representing them forming a right angle, and the earth is situated just as it was in the preceding figure; therefore, from this point, it should revolve round the sun in a circle. _mrs. b._ no, all the circumstances do not agree. in motion round a centre, you recollect that the centrifugal force increases with the velocity of the body, or in other words, the quicker it moves the stronger is its tendency to fly off in a right line. when the earth, therefore, arrives at e, its accelerated motion will have so far increased its velocity, and consequently its centrifugal force, that the latter will prevail over the force of attraction, and force the earth away from the sun till it reaches g. _caroline._ it is thus then that we escape from the dangerous vicinity of the sun; and in proportion as we recede from it, the force of its attraction, and, consequently, the velocity of the earth's motion, are diminished. _mrs. b._ yes. from g the direction of projection is towards h, that of attraction towards s, and the earth proceeds between them with a uniformly retarded motion, till it has completed its revolution. thus you see that the earth travels round the sun, not in a circle, but an ellipsis, of which the sun occupies one of the _foci_; and that in its course, the earth alternately approaches and recedes from it, without any danger of being either swallowed up, or being entirely carried away from it. _caroline._ and i observe, that what i apprehended to be a dangerous irregularity, is the means by which the most perfect order and harmony are produced. _emily._ the earth travels then at a very unequal rate, its velocity being accelerated as it approaches the sun, and retarded as it recedes from it. _mrs. b._ it is mathematically demonstrable, that, in moving round a point towards which it is attracted, a body passes over equal areas, in equal times. the whole of the space contained within the earth's orbit, is in fig. , divided into a number of areas or surfaces; , , , , &c. all of which are of equal dimensions, though of very different forms; some of them, you see, are long and narrow, others broad and short: but they each of them contain an equal quantity of space. an imaginary line drawn from the centre of the earth to that of the sun, and keeping pace with the earth in its revolution, passes over equal areas in equal times; that is to say, if it is a month going from a to b, it will be a month going from b to c, and another from c to e, and so on; and the areas a b s, b c s, c e s, will be equal to each other, although the lines a b, b c, c e, are unequal. _caroline._ what long journeys the earth has to perform in the course of a month, in one part of her orbit, and how short they are in the other part! _mrs. b._ the inequality is not so considerable as appears in this figure; for the earth's orbit is not so eccentric as it is there described; and in reality, differs but little from a circle: that part of the earth's orbit nearest the sun is called its _perihelion_, that part most distant from the sun, its _aphelion_; and the earth is above three millions of miles nearer the sun at its perihelion than at its aphelion. _emily._ i think i can trace a consequence from these different situations of the earth; are not they the cause of summer and winter? _mrs. b._ on the contrary, during the height of summer, the earth is in that part of its orbit which is most distant from the sun, and it is during the severity of winter, that it approaches nearest to it. _emily._ that is very extraordinary; and how then do you account for the heat being greatest, when we are most distant from the sun? _mrs. b._ the difference of the earth's distance from the sun in summer and winter, when compared with its total distance from the sun, is but inconsiderable. the earth, it is true, is above three millions of miles nearer the sun in winter than in summer; but that distance, however great it at first appears, sinks into insignificance in comparison with millions of miles, which is our mean distance from the sun. the change of temperature, arising from this difference, would scarcely be sensible, even were it not completely overpowered by other causes which produce the variations of the seasons; but these i shall defer explaining, till we have made some further observations on the heavenly bodies. _caroline._ and should not the sun appear smaller in summer, when it is so much further from us? _mrs. b._ it actually does, when accurately measured; but the apparent difference in size, is, i believe, not perceptible to the naked eye. _emily._ then, since the earth moves with the greatest velocity in that part of its orbit in which it is nearest the sun, it must have completed its journey through that half of its orbit, in a shorter time than through the other? _mrs. b._ yes, it is about seven days longer performing the summer-half of its orbit, than the winter-half; and the summers are consequently seven days longer in the northern, than they are in the southern hemisphere. the revolution of all the planets round the sun, is the result of the same causes, and is performed in the same manner, as that of the earth. _caroline._ pray what are the planets? _mrs. b._ they are those celestial bodies, which revolve like our earth, about the sun; they are supposed to resemble the earth also in many other respects; and we are led by analogy, to suppose them to be inhabited worlds. _caroline._ i have heard so, but do you not think such an opinion too great a stretch of the imagination? _mrs. b._ some of the planets are proved to be larger than the earth; it is only their immense distance from us, which renders their apparent dimensions so small. now, if we consider them as enormous globes, instead of small twinkling spots, we shall be led to suppose that the almighty would not have created them merely for the purpose of giving us a little light in the night, as it was formerly imagined; and we should find it more consistent with our ideas of the divine wisdom and beneficence, to suppose that these celestial bodies should be created for the habitation of beings, who are, like us, blessed by his providence. both in a moral, as well as a physical point of view, it appears to me more rational to consider the planets as worlds revolving round the sun; and the fixed stars as other suns, each of them attended by their respective system of planets, to which they impart their influence. we have brought our telescopes to such a degree of perfection, that from the appearances which the moon exhibits when seen through them, we have very good reason to conclude that it is a habitable globe: for though it is true that we cannot discern its towns and people, we can plainly perceive its mountains and valleys: and some astronomers have gone so far as to imagine that they discovered volcanos. _emily._ if the fixed stars are suns, with planets revolving round them, why should we not see those planets as well as their suns? _mrs. b._ in the first place, we conclude that the planets of other systems (like those of our own) are much smaller than the suns which give them light; therefore at a distance so great as to make the suns appear like fixed stars, the planets would be quite invisible. secondly, the light of the planets being only reflected light, is much more feeble than that of the fixed stars. there is exactly the same difference as between the light of the sun and that of the moon; the first being a fixed star, the second a planet. _emily._ but the planets appear to us as bright as the fixed stars, and these you tell us are suns like our own; why then do we not see them by daylight, when they must be just as luminous as they are in the night? _mrs. b._ both are invisible from the same cause: their light is so faint, compared to that of the sun, that it is entirely effaced by it: the light emitted by the fixed stars may probably be as great as that of our sun, at an equal distance; but they being so much more remote, it is diffused over a greater space, and is in consequence proportionally lessened. _caroline._ true; i can see much better by the light of a candle that is near me, than by that of one at a great distance. but i do not understand what makes the planets shine? _mrs. b._ what is that which makes the gilt buttons on your brothers coat shine? _caroline._ the sun. but if it was the sun which made the planets shine, we should see them in the day-time, when the sun shone upon them; or if the faintness of their light prevented our seeing them in the day, we should not see them at all, for the sun cannot shine upon them in the night. _mrs. b._ there you are in error. but in order to explain this to you, i must first make you acquainted with the various motions of the planets. you know, that according to the laws of attraction, the planets belonging to our system all gravitate towards the sun; and that this force, combined with that of projection, will occasion their revolution round the sun, in orbits more or less elliptical, according to the proportion which these two forces bear to each other. but the planets have also another motion: they revolve upon their axis. the axis of a planet is an imaginary line which passes through its centre, and on which it turns; and it is this motion which produces day and night. it is day on that side of the planet which faces the sun; and on the opposite side, which remains in darkness, it is night. our earth, which we consider as a planet, is hours in performing one revolution on its axis; in that period of time, therefore, we have a day and a night; hence this revolution is called the earth's diurnal or daily motion; and it is this revolution of the earth from west to east which produces an apparent motion of the sun, moon and stars, in a contrary direction. let us now suppose ourselves to be beings independent of any planet, travelling in the skies, and looking upon the earth from a point as distant from it as from other planets. _caroline._ it would not be flattering to us, its inhabitants, to see it make so insignificant an appearance. _mrs. b._ to those accustomed to contemplate it in this light, it could never appear more glorious. we are taught by science to distrust appearances; and instead of considering the fixed stars and planets as little points, we look upon them either as brilliant suns, or habitable worlds; and we consider the whole together as forming one vast and magnificent system, worthy of the divine hand by which it was created. _emily._ i can scarcely conceive the idea of this immensity of creation; it seems too sublime for our imagination;--and to think that the goodness of providence extends over millions of worlds throughout a boundless universe--ah! mrs. b., it is we only who become trifling and insignificant beings in so magnificent a creation! _mrs. b._ this idea should teach us humility, but without producing despondency. the same almighty hand which guides these countless worlds in their undeviating course, conducts with equal perfection, the blood as it circulates through the veins of a fly, and opens the eye of the insect to behold his wonders. notwithstanding this immense scale of creation, therefore, we need not fear that we shall be disregarded or forgotten. but to return to our station in the skies. we were, if you recollect, viewing the earth at a great distance, in appearance a little star, one side illumined by the sun, the other in obscurity. but would you believe it, caroline, many of the inhabitants of this little star imagine that when that part which they inhabit is turned from the sun, darkness prevails throughout the universe, merely because it is night with them; whilst, in reality, the sun never ceases to shine upon every planet. when, therefore, these little ignorant beings look around them during their night, and behold all the stars shining, they cannot imagine why the planets, which are dark bodies, should shine; concluding, that since the sun does not illumine themselves, the whole universe must be in darkness. _caroline._ i confess that i was one of these ignorant people; but i am now very sensible of the absurdity of such an idea. to the inhabitants of the other planets, then, we must appear as a little star? _mrs. b._ yes, to those which revolve round our sun; for since those which may belong to other systems, (and whose existence is only hypothetical) are invisible to us, it is probable that we also are invisible to them. _emily._ but they may see our sun as we do theirs, in appearance a fixed star? _mrs. b._ no doubt; if the beings who inhabit those planets are endowed with senses similar to ours. by the same rule we must appear as a moon to the inhabitants of our moon; but on a larger scale, as the surface of the earth is about thirteen times as large as that of the moon. _emily._ the moon, mrs. b., appears to move in a different direction, and in a different manner from the stars? _mrs. b._ i shall defer the explanation of the motion of the moon till our next interview, as it would prolong our present lesson too much. questions . (pg. ) what revolution does the earth perform in a year? . (pg. ) had the earth received a projectile force only, at the time of its creation, how would it have moved? . (pg. ) what do the lines a b, and a c, represent in fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what have you been taught respecting a body acted upon by two forces at right angles with each other? . (pg. ) how does the force of gravity change the diagonal into a curved line? . (pg. ) describe the operation of the forces of projection and of gravity as illustrated by the parallelograms in the figure? . (pg. ) what is the law respecting the time required for motion in the diagonal? . (pg. ) what portion of a year is represented by the three diagonals in the figure? . (pg. ) how will what you have learned respecting motion in a curve, apply to the earth's motion? . (pg. ) in what form are you directed to cut a piece of card to aid in illustrating the two forces acting upon the earth? . (pg. ) how must you apply it to this purpose? (fig. . plate .) . (pg. ) if these two forces did not exactly balance each other, what would result? . (pg. ) does the earth revolve in a circular orbit? . (pg. ) what results from its motion in an ellipsis? . (pg. ) what is represented by the lines a c, a b, in fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) were the projectile force to carry the earth from b to d, (fig. .) what would result? . (pg. ) when it has arrived at e, what angle will be formed by the lines representing the two forces? . (pg. ) what effect will the accelerated motion then produce? . (pg. ) what is the form of the earth's orbit, and what circumstances produce this form? . (pg. ) what is the consequence as regards the regularity of the earth's motion? . (pg. ) what law governs as regards the spaces passed over, and how is this explained by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what is meant by _perihelion_, and by _aphelion_? . (pg. ) what is the difference of the distance of the earth from the sun, in these two points? . (pg. ) at what season of the year is it nearest to, and at what furthest from the sun? . (pg. ) what is the mean distance of the earth from the sun? . (pg. ) why is but little effect produced, as regards temperature, by the change of distance? . (pg. ) has it any influence on the sun's apparent size? . (pg. ) are the summer and winter, half years, of the same length; what is their difference, and what is the cause? . (pg. ) what are the planets? . (pg. ) what circumstances render it probable that they are habitable globes? . (pg. ) what is believed respecting the fixed stars? . (pg. ) what discoveries have been made in the moon? . (pg. ) what prevents our seeing the planets, if there are any, which revolve round the fixed stars? . (pg. ) what prevents our seeing the stars and planets in the day-time? . (pg. ) what other motions have the earth and planets, besides that in their orbits? . (pg. ) what is the imaginary line called, round which they revolve? . (pg. ) how does this occasion night and day? . (pg. ) in what direction does the earth turn upon its axis, and what apparent motion of the sun, moon, and stars is thereby produced? . (pg. ) what must be the appearance of the earth to an inhabitant of one of the planets? . (pg. ) what the appearance of the sun to the inhabitants of planets in other systems? . (pg. ) what the appearance of the earth to an inhabitant of the moon? conversation vii. of the planets. of the satellites or moons. gravity diminishes as the square of the distance. of the solar system. of comets. constellations, signs of the zodiac. of copernicus, newton, &c. mrs. b. the planets are distinguished into primary and secondary. those which revolve immediately about the sun are called primary. many of these are attended in their course by smaller planets, which, revolve round them: these are called secondary planets, satellites, or moons. such is our moon which accompanies the earth, and is carried with it round the sun. _emily._ how then can you reconcile the motion of the secondary planets to the laws of gravitation; for the sun is much larger than any of the primary planets; and is not the power of gravity proportional to the quantity of matter? _caroline._ perhaps the sun, though much larger, may be less dense than the planets. fire you know, is very light, and it may contain but little matter, though of great magnitude. _mrs. b._ we do not know of what kind of matter the sun is made; but we may be certain, that since it is the general centre of attraction of our system of planets, it must be the body which contains the greatest quantity of matter in that system. you must recollect, that the force of attraction is not only proportional to the quantity of matter, but to the degree of proximity of the attractive body: this power is weakened by being diffused, and diminishes as the distance increases. _emily._ then if a planet was to lose one-half of its quantity of matter, it would lose one half of its attractive power; and the same effect would be produced by removing it to twice its former distance from the sun; that i understand. _mrs. b._ not so perfectly as you imagine. you are correct as respects the diminution in size, because the attractive force is in the same proportion as the quantity of matter; but were you to remove a planet to double its former distance, it would retain but one-fourth part of its gravitating force; for attraction decreases not in proportion to the simple increase of the distance, but as the squares of the distances increase. _caroline._ i do not exactly comprehend what is meant by the squares, in this case, although i know very well what is in general intended by a square. _mrs. b._ by the square of a number we mean the product of a number, multiplied by itself; thus two, multiplied by two, is four, which is therefore the square of two; in like manner the square of three, is nine, because three multiplied by three, gives that product. _emily._ then if one planet is three times more distant from the sun than another, it will be attracted with but one-ninth part of the force; and if at four times the distance, with but one-sixteenth, sixteen being the square of four? _mrs. b._ you are correct; the rule is, that _the attractive force is in the inverse proportion of the square of the distance_. and it is easily demonstrated by the mathematics, that the same is the case with every power that emanates from a centre; as for example, the light from the sun, or from any other luminous body, decreases in its intensity at the same rate. _caroline._ then the more distant planets, move much slower in their orbits; for their projectile force must be proportioned to that of attraction? but i do not see how this accounts for the motion of the secondary, round the primary planets, in preference to moving round the sun? _emily._ is it not because the vicinity of the primary planets, renders their attraction stronger than that of the sun? _mrs. b._ exactly so. but since the attraction between bodies is mutual, the primary planets are also attracted by the satellites which revolve round them. the moon attracts the earth, as well as the earth the moon; but as the latter is the smaller body, her attraction is proportionally less; therefore, neither the earth revolves round the moon, nor the moon round the earth; but they both revolve round a point, which is their common centre of gravity, and which is as much nearer to the earth than to the moon, as the gravity of the former exceeds that of the latter. _emily._ yes, i recollect your saying, that if two bodies were fastened together by a wire or bar, their common centre of gravity would be in the middle of the bar, provided the bodies were of equal weight; and if they differed in weight, it would be nearer the larger body. if then, the earth and moon had no projectile force which prevented their mutual attraction from bringing them together, they would meet at their common centre of gravity. _caroline._ the earth then has a great variety of motion, it revolves round the sun, round its own axis, and round the point towards which the moon attracts it. _mrs. b._ just so; and this is the case with every planet which is attended by satellites. the complicated effect of this variety of motions, produces certain irregularities, which, however, it is not necessary to notice at present, excepting to observe that they eventually correct each other, so that no permanent derangement exists. the planets act on the sun, in the same manner as they are themselves acted on by their satellites; for attraction, you must remember, is always mutual; but the gravity of the planets (even when taken collectively) is so trifling compared with that of the sun, that were they all placed on the same side of that luminary, they would not cause him to move so much as one-half of his diameter towards them, and the common centre of gravity, would still remain within the body of the sun. the planets do not, therefore, revolve round the centre of the sun, but round a point at a small distance from its centre, about which the sun also revolves. _emily._ i thought the sun had no motion? _mrs. b._ you were mistaken; for besides that round the common centre of gravity, which i have just mentioned, which is indeed very inconsiderable, he revolves on his axis in about days; this motion is ascertained by observing certain spots which disappear, and reappear regularly at stated times. [illustration: plate vii.] _caroline._ a planet has frequently been pointed out to me in the heavens; but i could not perceive that its motion differed from that of the fixed stars, which only appear to move. _mrs. b._ the great distance of the planets, renders their apparent motion so slow, that the eye is not sensible of their progress in their orbits, unless we watch them for some considerable length of time: but if you notice the nearness of a planet to any particular fixed star, you may in a few nights perceive that it has changed its distance from it, whilst the stars themselves always retain their relative situations. the most accurate idea i can give you of the situation and motion of the planets in their orbits, will be by the examination of this diagram, (plate . fig. .) representing the solar system, in which you will find every planet, with its orbit delineated. _emily._ but the orbits here are all circular, and you said that they were elliptical. the planets appear too, to be moving round the centre of the sun; whilst you told us that they moved round a point at a little distance from thence. _mrs. b._ the orbits of the planets are so nearly circular, and the common centre of gravity of the solar system, so near the centre of the sun, that these deviations are too small to be represented. the dimensions of the planets, in their proportion to each other, you will find delineated in fig. . mercury is the planet nearest the sun; his orbit is consequently contained within ours; his vicinity to the sun, prevents our frequently seeing him, so that very accurate observations cannot be made upon mercury. he performs his revolution round the sun in about days, which is consequently the length of his year. the time of his rotation on his axis is not known; his distance from the sun is computed to be millions of miles, and his diameter miles. the heat of this planet is supposed to be so great, that water cannot exist there but in a state of vapour, and that even quicksilver would be made to boil. _caroline._ oh, what a dreadful climate! _mrs. b._ though we could not live there, it may be perfectly adapted to other beings, destined to inhabit it; or he who created it may have so modified the heat, by provisions of which we are ignorant, as to make it habitable even by ourselves. venus, the next in the order of planets, is millions of miles from the sun: she revolves about her axis in hours and minutes, and goes round the sun in days, hours. the orbit of venus is also within ours; during nearly one-half of her course in it, we see her before sun-rise, and she is then called the morning star; in the other part of her orbit she rises later than the sun. _caroline._ in that case we cannot see her, for she must rise in the day time? _mrs. b._ true; but when she rises later than the sun, she also sets later; so that we perceive her approaching the horizon after sun-set: she is then called hesperus, or the evening star. do you recollect those beautiful lines of milton? now came still evening on, and twilight gray had in her sober livery all things clad; silence accompanied; for beast and bird, they to their grassy couch, these to their nests were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; she all night long her amorous descant sung; silence was pleas'd; now glowed the firmament with living sapphires. hesperus that led the starry host, rode brightest, till the moon rising in clouded majesty, at length apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light, and o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. the planet next to venus is the earth, of which we shall soon speak at full length. at present i shall only observe that we are millions of miles distant from the sun, that we perform our annual revolution in days hours and minutes; and are attended in our course by a single moon. next follows mars. he can never come between us and the sun, like mercury and venus; his motion is, however, very perceptible, as he may be traced to different situations in the heavens; his distance from the sun is millions of miles; he turns round his axis in hours and minutes; and he performs his annual revolution, in about of our days: his diameter is miles. then follow four very small planets, juno, ceres, pallas and vesta, which have been recently discovered, but whose dimensions, and distances from the sun, have not been very accurately ascertained. they are generally called asteroids. jupiter is next in order: this is the largest of all the planets. he is about millions of miles from the sun, and completes his annual period in nearly of our years. he turns round his axis in about ten hours. he is above times as big as our earth; his diameter is , miles. the respective proportions of the planets cannot, therefore, you see, be conveniently delineated in a diagram. he is attended by four moons. the next planet is saturn, whose distance from the sun, is about millions of miles; his diurnal rotation is performed in hours and a quarter: his annual revolution is nearly of our years. his diameter is , miles. this planet is surrounded by a luminous ring, the nature of which, astronomers are much at a loss to conjecture: he has seven moons. lastly, we observe the planet herschel, discovered by dr. herschel, by whom it was named the georgium sidus, and which is attended by six moons. _caroline._ how charming it must be in the distant planets, to see several moons shining at the same time; i think i should like to be an inhabitant of jupiter or saturn. _mrs. b._ not long i believe. consider what extreme cold must prevail in a planet, situated as saturn is, at nearly ten times the distance at which we are from the sun. then his numerous moons are far from making so splendid an appearance as ours; for they can reflect only the light which they receive from the sun; and both light, and heat, decrease in the same ratio or proportion to the distances, as gravity. can you tell me now how much more light we enjoy than saturn? _caroline._ the square of ten is a hundred; therefore, saturn has a hundred times less--or to answer your question exactly, we have a hundred times more light and heat, than saturn--this certainly does not increase my wish to become one of the poor wretches who inhabit that planet. _mrs. b._ may not the inhabitants of mercury, with equal plausibility, pity us for the insupportable coldness of our situation; and those of jupiter and saturn for our intolerable heat? the almighty power which created these planets, and placed them in their several orbits, has no doubt peopled them with beings, whose bodies are adapted to the various temperatures and elements, in which they are situated. if we judge from the analogy of our own earth, or from that of the great and universal beneficence of providence, we must conclude this to be the case. _caroline._ are not comets, in some respects similar to planets? _mrs. b._ yes, they are; for by the reappearance of some of them, at stated times, they are known to revolve round the sun; but in orbits so extremely eccentric, that they disappear for a great number of years. if they are inhabited, it must be by a species of beings very different, not only from the inhabitants of this, but from those of any of the other planets, as they must experience the greatest vicissitudes of heat and cold; one part of their orbit being so near the sun, that their heat, when there, is computed to be greater than that of red-hot iron; in this part of its orbit, the comet emits a luminous vapour, called the tail, which it gradually loses as it recedes from the sun; and the comet itself totally disappears from our sight, in the more distant parts of its orbit, which extends considerably beyond that of the furthest planet. the number of comets belonging to our system cannot be ascertained, as some of them are several centuries before they make their reappearance. the number that are known by their regular reappearance is, i believe, only three, although their whole number is very considerable. _emily._ pray, mrs. b., what are the constellations? _mrs. b._ they are the fixed stars; which the ancients, in order to recognise them, formed into groups, and gave the names of the figures, which you find delineated on the celestial globe. in order to show their proper situations in the heavens, they should be painted on the internal surface of a hollow sphere, from the centre of which you should view them; you would then behold them as they appear to be situated in the heavens. the twelve constellations, called the signs of the zodiac, are those which are so situated, that the earth, in its annual revolution, passes directly between them, and the sun. their names are aries, taurus, gemini, cancer, leo, virgo, libra, scorpio, sagittarius, capricornus, aquarius, pisces; the whole occupying a complete circle, or broad belt, in the heavens, called the zodiac. (plate . fig. .) hence, a right line drawn from the earth, and passing through the sun, would reach one of these constellations, and the sun is said to be in that constellation at which the line terminates: thus, when the earth is at a, the sun would appear to be in the constellation or sign aries; when the earth is at b, the sun would appear in cancer; when the earth was at c, the sun would be in libra; and when the earth was at d, the sun would be in capricorn. you are aware that it is the real motion of the earth in its orbit, which gives to the sun this apparent motion through the signs. this circle, in which the sun thus appears to move, and which passes through the middle of the zodiac, is called the ecliptic. _caroline._ but many of the stars in these constellations appear beyond the zodiac. [illustration: plate viii.] _mrs. b._ we have no means of ascertaining the distance of the fixed stars. when, therefore, they are said to be in the zodiac, it is merely implied that they are situated in that direction, and that they shine upon us through that portion of the heavens, which we call the zodiac. _emily._ but are not those large bright stars, which are called stars of the first magnitude, nearer to us, than those small ones which we can scarcely discern? _mrs. b._ it may be so; or the difference of size and brilliancy of the stars may proceed from their difference of dimensions; this is a point which astronomers are not enabled to determine. considering them as suns, i see no reason why different suns should not vary in dimensions, as well as the planets belonging to them. _emily._ what a wonderful and beautiful system this is, and how astonishing to think that every fixed star may probably be attended by a similar train of planets! _caroline._ you will accuse me of being very incredulous, but i cannot help still entertaining some doubts, and fearing that there is more beauty than truth in this system. it certainly may be so; but there does not appear to me to be sufficient evidence to prove it. it seems so plain and obvious that the earth is motionless, and that the sun and stars revolve round it;--your solar system, you must allow, is directly in opposition to the evidence of our senses. _mrs. b._ our senses so often mislead us, that we should not place implicit reliance upon them. _caroline._ on what then can we rely, for do we not receive all our ideas through the medium of our senses? _mrs. b._ it is true that they are our primary source of knowledge; but the mind has the power of reflecting, judging, and deciding upon the ideas received by the organs of sense. this faculty, which we call reason, has frequently proved to us, that our senses are liable to err. if you have ever sailed on the water, with a very steady breeze, you must have seen the houses, trees, and every object on the shore move, while you were sailing. _caroline._ i remember thinking so, when i was very young; but i now know that their motion is only apparent. it is true that my reason, in this case, corrects the error of my sight. _mrs. b._ it teaches you, that the apparent motion of the objects on shore, proceeds from your being yourself moving, and that you are not sensible of your own motion, because you meet with no resistance. it is only when some obstacle impedes our motion, that we are conscious of moving; and if you were to close your eyes when you were sailing on calm water, with a steady wind, you would not perceive that you moved, for you could not feel it, and you could see it only by observing the change of place of the objects on shore. so it is with the motion of the earth: every thing on its surface, and the air that surrounds it, accompanies it in its revolution; it meets with no resistance: therefore, like the crew of a vessel sailing with a fair wind, in a calm sea, we are insensible of our motion. _caroline._ but the principal reason why the crew of a vessel in a calm sea do not perceive their motion, is, because they move exceedingly slow, while the earth, you say, revolves with great velocity. _mrs. b._ it is not because they move slowly, but because they move steadily, and meet with no irregular resistances, that the crew of a vessel do not perceive their motion; for they would be equally insensible to it, with the strongest wind, provided it were steady, that they sailed with it, and that it did not agitate the water; but this last condition, you know, is not possible, for the wind will always produce waves which offer more or less resistance to the vessel, and then the motion becomes sensible, because it is unequal. _caroline._ but, granting this, the crew of a vessel have a proof of their motion, which the inhabitants of the earth cannot have,--the apparent motion of the objects on shore, or their having passed from one place to another. _mrs. b._ have we not a similar proof of the earth's motion, in the apparent motion of the sun and stars? imagine the earth to be sailing round its axis, and successively passing by every star, which, like the objects on land, we suppose to be moving instead of ourselves. i have heard it observed by an ærial traveller in a balloon, that the earth appears to sink beneath the balloon, instead of the balloon rising above the earth. it is a law which we discover throughout nature, and worthy of its great author, that all its purposes are accomplished by the most simple means; and what reason have we to suppose this law infringed, in order that we may remain at rest, while the sun and stars move round us; their regular motions, which are explained by the laws of attraction, on the first supposition, would be unintelligible on the last, and the order and harmony of the universe be destroyed. think what an immense circuit the sun and stars would make daily, were their apparent motions, real. we know many of them, to be bodies more considerable than our earth; for our eyes vainly endeavour to persuade us, that they are little brilliants sparkling in the heavens; while science teaches us that they are immense spheres, whose apparent dimensions are diminished by distance. why then should these enormous globes daily traverse such a prodigious space, merely to prevent the necessity of our earth's revolving on its axis? _caroline._ i think i must now be convinced. but you will, i hope, allow me a little time to familiarise to myself, an idea so different from that which i have been accustomed to entertain. and pray, at what rate do we move? _mrs. b._ the motion produced by the revolution of the earth on its axis, is about seventeen miles a minute, to an inhabitant on the equator. _emily._ but does not every part of the earth move with the same velocity? _mrs. b._ a moment's reflection would convince you of the contrary: a person at the equator must move quicker than one situated near the poles, since they both perform a revolution in hours. _emily._ true, the equator is farthest from the axis of motion. but in the earth's revolution round the sun, every part must move with equal velocity? _mrs. b._ yes, about a thousand miles a minute. _caroline._ how astonishing!--and that it should be possible for us to be insensible of such a rapid motion. you would not tell me this sooner, mrs. b., for fear of increasing my incredulity. before the time of newton, was not the earth supposed to be in the centre of the system, and the sun, moon, and stars to revolve round it? _mrs. b._ this was the system of ptolemy, in ancient times; but as long ago as the beginning of the sixteenth century it was generally discarded, and the solar system, such as i have shown you, was established by the celebrated astronomer copernicus, and is hence called the copernican system. but the theory of gravitation, the source from which this beautiful and harmonious arrangement flows, we owe to the powerful genius of newton, who lived at a much later period, and who demonstrated its truth. _emily._ it appears, indeed, far less difficult to trace by observation the motion of the planets, than to divine by what power they are impelled and guided. i wonder how the idea of gravitation could first have occurred to sir isaac newton? _mrs. b._ it is said to have been occasioned by a circumstance from which one should little have expected so grand a theory to have arisen. during the prevalence of the plague in the year , newton retired into the country to avoid the contagion: when sitting one day in an orchard, he observed an apple fall from a tree, and was led to consider what could be the cause which brought it to the ground. _caroline._ if i dared to confess it, mrs. b., i should say that such an inquiry indicated rather a deficiency than a superiority of intellect. i do not understand how any one can wonder at what is so natural and so common. _mrs. b._ it is the mark of superior genius to find matter for wonder, observation, and research, in circumstances which, to the ordinary mind, appear trivial, because they are common; and with which they are satisfied, because they are natural; without reflecting that nature is our grand field of observation, that within it, is contained our whole store of knowledge; in a word, that to study the works of nature, is to learn to appreciate and admire the wisdom of god. thus, it was the simple circumstance of the fall of an apple, which led to the discovery of the laws upon which the copernican system is founded; and whatever credit this system had obtained before, it now rests upon a basis from which it cannot be shaken. _emily._ this was a most fortunate apple, and more worthy to be commemorated than all those that have been sung by the poets. the apple of discord for which the goddesses contended; the golden apples by which atalanta won the race; nay, even the apple which william tell shot from the head of his son, cannot be compared to this! questions . (pg. ) into what two classes are the planets divided, and how are they distinguished? . (pg. ) by what reasoning do you prove that the sun contains a greater quantity of matter than any other body in the system? . (pg. ) what two circumstances govern the force with which bodies attract each other? . (pg. ) were a planet removed to double its former distance from the sun, what would be the effect upon its attractive force? . (pg. ) why would it be reduced to one-fourth? . (pg. ) what is meant by the square of a number, and what examples can you give? . (pg. ) what then would be the effect of removing it to three, or four times its former distance? . (pg. ) how is the rule upon this subject expressed? . (pg. ) does this apply to any power excepting gravitation? . (pg. ) how is it that a secondary planet revolves round its primary, and is not drawn off by the sun? . (pg. ) what is said respecting the revolution of the moon, and of the earth, round a common centre of gravity? . (pg. ) by what law in mechanics is this explained? . (pg. ) what motions then has the earth, and are these remarks confined to it alone? . (pg. ) what effect have the planets upon the sun, and what is said of the common centre of gravity of the system? . (pg. ) what other motion has the sun, and how is it proved? . (pg. ) how may you observe the motion of a planet, by means of a fixed star? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) why are the orbits represented as circular? . (pg. ) in what order do the planets increase in size as represented, fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what are we told respecting mercury? . (pg. ) what respecting venus? . (pg. ) when does venus become a morning, and when an evening star? . (pg. ) what is said of the earth? . (pg. ) what of mars? . (pg. ) what four small planets follow next? . (pg. ) what is said of jupiter? . (pg. ) what of saturn? . (pg. ) what of herschel? . (pg. ) why do we conclude that the moons of saturn afford less light than ours? . (pg. ) in what proportion will the light and heat at saturn be diminished, and why? . (pg. ) what do the comets resemble, and what is remarkable in their orbits? . (pg. ) what is said of the number of comets? . (pg. ) what is a constellation? . (pg. ) how are the twelve constellations, or signs, called the zodiac, situated? . (pg. ) name them. . (pg. ) what is meant by the sun being in a sign? . (pg. ) what causes the apparent change of the sun's place? . (pg. ) the stars appear of different magnitudes, by what may this be caused? . (pg. ) we are not sensible of the motion of the earth; what fact is mentioned to illustrate this point? . (pg. ) what does this teach us? . (pg. ) would the slowness, or the rapidity of the motion, if steady, produce any sensible difference? . (pg. ) if we do not feel the motion of the earth, how may we be convinced of its reality? . (pg. ) were we to deny the motion of the earth upon its axis, what must we admit respecting the heavenly bodies? . (pg. ) what distance is an inhabitant on the equator carried in a minute by the diurnal motion of the earth? . (pg. ) why is not the velocity every where equally great? . (pg. ) what distance does the earth travel in a minute, in its revolution round the sun? . (pg. ) what was formerly supposed respecting the motion of all the heavenly bodies? . (pg. ) what do we mean by the copernican system, and what is said respecting copernicus and newton? . (pg. ) what circumstance is said to have given rise to the speculations of newton, on the subject of gravitation? conversation viii. on the earth. of the terrestrial globe. of the figure of the earth. of the pendulum. of the variation of the seasons, and of the length of days and nights. of the causes of the heat of summer. of solar, siderial, and equal or mean time. mrs. b. as the earth is the planet in which we are the most particularly interested, it is my intention this morning, to explain to you the effects resulting from its annual, and diurnal motions; but for this purpose, it will be necessary to make you acquainted with the terrestrial globe: you have not either of you, i conclude, learnt the use of the globes? _caroline._ no; i once indeed, learnt by heart, the names of the lines marked on the globe, but as i was informed they were only imaginary divisions, they did not appear to me worthy of much attention, and were soon forgotten. _mrs. b._ you supposed, then, that astronomers had been at the trouble of inventing a number of lines, to little purpose. it will be impossible for me to explain to you the particular effects of the earth's motion, without your having acquired a knowledge of these lines: in plate . fig. . you will find them all delineated: and you must learn them perfectly, if you wish to make any proficiency in astronomy. _caroline._ i was taught them at so early an age, that i could not understand their meaning; and i have often heard you say, that the only use of words, was to convey ideas. _mrs. b._ a knowledge of these lines, would have conveyed some idea of the manner in which they were designed to divide the globe into parts; although the use of these divisions, might at that time, have been too difficult for you to understand. childhood is the season, when impressions on the memory are most strongly and most easily made: it is the period at which a large stock of terms should be treasured up, the precise application of which we may learn when the understanding is more developed. it is, i think, a very mistaken notion, that children should be taught such things only, as they can perfectly understand. had you been early made acquainted with the terms which relate to figure and motion, how much it would have facilitated your progress in natural philosophy. i have been obliged to confine myself to the most common and familiar expressions, in explaining the laws of nature; although i am convinced that appropriate and scientific terms, might have conveyed more precise and accurate ideas, had you been prepared to understand them. _emily._ you may depend upon our carefully learning the names of these lines, mrs. b.; but before we commit them to memory, will you have the goodness to explain them to us? _mrs. b._ most willingly. this figure of a globe, or sphere, represents the earth; the line which passes through its centre, and on which it turns, is called its axis, and the two extremities of the axis a and b, are the poles, distinguished by the names of the north and the south pole. the circle c d, which divides the globe into two equal parts between the poles, and equally distant from them, is called the equator, or equinoctial line; that part of the globe to the north of the equator, is the northern hemisphere; that part to the south of the equator, the southern hemisphere. the small circle e f, which surrounds the north pole, is called the arctic circle; that g h, which surrounds the south pole, the antarctic circle; these are also called polar circles. there are two circles, intermediate between the polar circles and the equator; that to the north i k, called the tropic of cancer; that to the south, l m, called the tropic of capricorn. lastly, this circle, l k, which divides the globe into two equal parts, crossing the equator and extending northward as far as the tropic of cancer, and southward as far as the tropic of capricorn, is called the ecliptic. the delineation of the ecliptic on the terrestrial globe is not without danger of conveying false ideas; for the ecliptic (as i have before said) is an imaginary circle in the heavens, passing through the middle of the zodiac, and situated in the plane of the earth's orbit. _caroline._ i do not understand the meaning of the plane of the earth's orbit. _mrs. b._ a plane, is an even flat surface. were you to bend a piece of wire, so as to form a hoop, you might then stretch a piece of cloth, or paper over it, like the head of a drum; this would form a flat surface, which might be called the plane of the hoop. now the orbit of the earth, is an imaginary circle, surrounding the sun, and you can readily imagine a plane extending from one side of this circle to the other, filling up its whole area: such a plane would pass through the centre of the sun, dividing it into hemispheres. you may then imagine this plane extended beyond the limits of the earth's orbit, on every side, until it reached those fixed stars which form the signs of the zodiac; passing through the middle of these signs, it would give you the place of that imaginary circle in the heavens, call the ecliptic; which is the sun's apparent path. let fig. . plate , represent such a plane, s the sun, e the earth with its orbit, and a b c d the ecliptic passing through the middle of the zodiac. [illustration: plate ix.] _emily._ if the ecliptic relates only to the heavens, why is it described upon the terrestrial globe? _mrs. b._ it is convenient for the demonstration of a variety of problems in the use of the globes; and besides, the obliquity of this circle to the equator is rendered more conspicuous by its being described on the same globe; and the obliquity of the ecliptic shows how much the earth's axis is inclined to the plane of its orbit. but to return to fig. . plate . the spaces between the several parallel circles on the terrestrial globe are called zones: that which is comprehended between the tropics is distinguished by the name of the torrid zone; the spaces which extend from the tropics to the polar circles, the north and south temperate zones; and the spaces contained within the polar circles, the frigid zones. by the term zone is meant a belt, or girdle, the frigid zones, however, are not belts, but circles, extending - / degrees from their centres, the poles. the several lines which, you observe to be drawn from one pole to the other, cutting the equator at right angles, are called meridians; the number of these is unlimited, as a line passing through any place, directly to the poles, is called the meridian of that place. when any one of these meridians is exactly opposite to the sun, it is mid-day, or twelve o'clock in the day, at all the places situated any where on that meridian; and, at the places situated on the opposite meridian, it is consequently midnight. _emily._ to places situated equally distant from these two meridians, it must then be six o'clock. _mrs. b._ yes; if they are to the east of the sun's meridian it is six o'clock in the afternoon, because they will have previously passed the sun; if to the west, it is six o'clock in the morning, and that meridian will be proceeding towards the sun. those circles which divide the globe into two equal parts, such as the equator and the ecliptic, are called greater circles; to distinguish them from those which divide it into two unequal parts, as the tropics, and polar circles, which are called lesser circles. all circles, you know, are imagined to be divided into equal parts, called degrees, and degrees are again divided into equal parts, called minutes. the diameter of a circle is a right line drawn across it, and passing through its centre; were you, for instance, to measure across this round table, that would give you its diameter; but were you to measure all round the edge of it, you would then obtain its circumference. now emily, you may tell me exactly how many degrees are contained in a meridian? _emily._ a meridian, reaching from one pole to the other, is half a circle, and must therefore contain degrees. _mrs. b._ very well; and what number of degrees are there from the equator to one of the poles? _caroline._ the equator being equally distant from either pole, that distance must be half of a meridian, or a quarter of the circumference of a circle, and contain degrees. _mrs. b._ besides the usual division of circles into degrees, the ecliptic is divided into twelve equal parts, called signs, which bear the name of the constellations through which this circle passes in the heavens. the degrees measured on the meridians from the equator, either towards the north, or towards the south, are called degrees of latitude, of which there may be ; those measured from east to west, either on the equator, or any of the lesser circles, are called degrees of longitude, of which there may be ; these lesser circles are also called parallels of latitude. of these parallels there may be any number; a circle drawn from east to west, at any distance from the equator, will always be parallel to it, and is therefore called a parallel of latitude. _emily._ the degrees of longitude must then vary in length, according to the dimensions of the circle on which they are reckoned; those, for instance, at the polar circles, will be considerably smaller than those at the equator? _mrs. b._ certainly; since the degrees of circles of different dimensions do not vary in number, they must necessarily vary in length. the degrees of latitude, you may observe, never vary in length; for the meridians on which they are reckoned are all of the same dimensions. _emily._ and of what length is a degree of latitude? _mrs. b._ sixty geographical miles, which is equal to - / english statute miles; or about one-sixth more than a common mile. _emily._ the degrees of longitude at the equator, must then be of the same dimensions, with a degree of latitude. _mrs. b._ they would, were the earth a perfect sphere; but it is not exactly such, being somewhat protuberant about the equator, and flattened towards the poles. this form proceeds from the superior action of the centrifugal power at the equator, and as this enlarges the circle, it must, in the same proportion, increase the length of the degrees of longitude measured on it. _caroline._ i thought i had understood the centrifugal force perfectly, but i do not comprehend its effects in this instance. _mrs. b._ you know that the revolution of the earth on its axis, must give to every particle a tendency to fly off from the centre, that this tendency is stronger, or weaker, in proportion to the velocity with which the particle moves; now a particle situated near to one of the poles, makes one rotation in the same space of time as a particle at the equator; the latter, therefore, having a much larger circle to describe, travels proportionally faster, consequently the centrifugal force is much stronger at the equator than in the polar regions: it gradually decreases as you leave the equator and approach the poles, at which points the centrifugal force, entirely ceases. supposing, therefore, the earth to have been originally in a fluid state, the particles in the torrid zone would recede much farther from the centre than those in the frigid zones; thus the polar regions would become flattened, and those about the equator elevated. as a large portion of the earth is covered with water, the creator gave to it the form, denominated an _oblate spheroid_, otherwise the polar regions would have been without water, and those about the equator, would have been buried several miles below the surface of the ocean. _caroline._ i did not consider that the particles in the neighbourhood of the equator, move with greater velocity than those about the poles; this was the reason i could not understand you. _mrs. b._ you must be careful to remember, that those parts of a body which are farthest from the centre of motion, must move with the greatest velocity: the axis of the earth is the centre of its diurnal motion, and the equatorial regions the parts most distant from the axis. _caroline._ my head then moves faster than my feet; and upon the summit of a mountain, we are carried round quicker than in a valley? _mrs. b._ certainly; your head is more distant from the centre of motion than your feet; the mountain-top than the valley; and the more distant any part of a body is from the centre of motion, the larger is the circle it will describe, and the greater therefore must be its velocity. _emily._ i have been reflecting, that if the earth is not a perfect circle---- _mrs. b._ a sphere you mean, my dear: a circle is a round line, every part of which is equally distant from the centre; a sphere or globe is a round body, the surface of which is every where equally distant from the centre. _emily._ if, then, the earth is not a perfect sphere, but prominent at the equator, and depressed at the poles, would not a body weigh heavier at the equator than at the poles? for the earth being thicker at the equator, the attraction of gravity perpendicularly downwards must be stronger. _mrs. b._ your reasoning has some plausibility, but i am sorry to be obliged to add, that it is quite erroneous; for the nearer any part of the surface of a body is to the centre of attraction, the more strongly it is attracted; because it is then nearest to the whole mass of attracting matter. in regard to its effects, you might consider the whole power of gravity, as placed at the centre of attraction. _emily._ but were you to penetrate deep into the earth, would gravity increase as you approached the centre? _mrs. b._ certainly not; i am referring only to any situation on the surface of the earth. were you to penetrate into the interior, the attraction of the parts above you, would counteract that of the parts beneath you, and consequently diminish the power of gravity in proportion as you approach the centre; and if you reached that point, being equally attracted by the parts all around you, the effects of gravity would cease, and you would be without weight. _emily._ bodies, then, should weigh less at the equator than at the poles, since they are more distant from the centre of gravity in the former than in the latter situation? _mrs. b._ and this is really the case; but the difference of weight would be scarcely sensible, were it not augmented by another circumstance. _caroline._ and what is this singular circumstance, which seems to disturb the laws of nature? _mrs. b._ one that you are well acquainted with, as conducing more to the preservation than the destruction of order,--the centrifugal force. this we have just observed to be strongest at the equator; and as it tends to drive bodies from the centre, it is necessarily opposed to, and must lessen the power of gravity, which attracts them towards the centre. we accordingly find that bodies weigh lightest at the equator, where the centrifugal force is greatest; and heaviest at the poles, where this power is least: the weight being diminished at the equator, by both the causes mentioned. _caroline._ has the experiment been made in these different situations? _mrs. b._ louis xiv. of france, sent philosophers both to the equator, and to lapland, for this purpose: the severity of the climate, and obstruction from the ice, have hitherto rendered every attempt to reach the pole abortive; but the difference of gravity at the equator, and in lapland is very perceptible. _caroline._ yet i do not comprehend how the difference of weight could be ascertained, for if the body under trial decreased in weight, the weight which was opposed to it in the opposite scale must have diminished in the same proportion. for instance, if a pound of sugar did not weigh so heavy at the equator as at the poles, the leaden pound which served to weigh it, would not be so heavy either; therefore they would still balance each other, and the different force of gravity could not be ascertained by this means. _mrs. b._ your observation is perfectly just: the difference of gravity in bodies situated at the poles, and at the equator, cannot be ascertained by weighing them; a pendulum was therefore used for that purpose. _caroline._ what, the pendulum of a clock? how could that answer the purpose? _mrs. b._ a pendulum consists of a line, or rod, to one end of which a weight is attached, and by the other end it is suspended to a fixed point, about which it is made to vibrate. when not in motion, a pendulum, obeying the general law of attraction, hangs like a plumb line, perpendicular to the surface of the earth, but if you raise the pendulum, gravity will bring it back to its perpendicular position. it will, however, not remain stationary there, for the momentum it has acquired during its descent, will impel it onwards, and if unobstructed, it will rise on the opposite side to an equal height; from thence it is brought back by gravity, and is again forced upwards, by the impulse of its momentum. _caroline._ if so, the motion of a pendulum would be perpetual, and i thought you said, that there was no perpetual motion on the earth. _mrs. b._ the motion of a pendulum is opposed by the resistance of the air in which it vibrates, and by the friction of the part by which it is suspended: were it possible to remove these obstacles, the motion of a pendulum would be perpetual, and its vibrations perfectly regular; each being of equal distance, and performed in equal times. _emily._ that is the natural result of the uniformity of the power which produces these vibrations, for the force of gravity being always the same, the velocity of the pendulum must consequently be uniform. _caroline._ no, emily, you are mistaken; the force is not every where the same, and therefore the effect will not be so either. i have discovered it, mrs. b.; since the force of gravity is less at the equator than at the poles, the vibrations of the pendulum will be slower at the former place than at the latter. _mrs. b._ you are perfectly right, caroline; it was by this means that the difference of gravity was discovered, and the true figure of the earth ascertained. _emily._ but how do they contrive to regulate their time in the equatorial and polar regions? for, since in our part of the earth the pendulum of a clock vibrates exactly once in a second, if it vibrates faster at the poles, and slower at the equator, the inhabitants must regulate their clocks in a manner different from us. _mrs. b._ the only alteration required is to lengthen the pendulum in one case, and to shorten it in the other; for the velocity of the vibrations of a pendulum depends on its length; and when it is said that a pendulum vibrates quicker at the pole than at the equator, it is supposed to be of the same length. a pendulum which vibrates seconds in this latitude is about - / inches long. in order to vibrate at the equator in the same space of time, it must be somewhat shorter; and at the poles, it must be proportionally lengthened. the vibrations of a pendulum, resemble the descent of a body on an inclined plane, and are produced by the same cause; now you must recollect, that the greater the perpendicular height of such a plane, in proportion to its length, the more rapid will be the descent of the body; a short pendulum ascends to a greater height than a larger one, in vibrating a given distance, and of course its descent must be more rapid. i shall now, i think, be able to explain to you the cause of the variation of the seasons, and the difference in the length of the days and nights in those seasons; both effects resulting from the same cause. in moving round the sun, the axis of the earth is not perpendicular to the plane of its orbit. supposing this round table to represent the plane of the earth's orbit, and this little globe, the earth; through this i have passed a wire, representing its axis and poles. in moving round the table, i do not hold the wire perpendicular to it, but obliquely. _emily._ yes, i understand, the earth does not go round the sun in an upright position, its axis is slanting or oblique; and, it of course, forms an angle with a line drawn perpendicular to the plane of the earth's orbit. _mrs. b._ all the lines, which you learnt in your last lesson, are delineated on this little globe; you must consider the ecliptic as representing the plane of the earth's orbit; and the equator, which crosses the ecliptic in two places, then shows the degree of obliquity of the axis of the earth; which amounts to - / degrees, very nearly. the points in which the ecliptic intersects the equator, are called the equinoctial points. but i believe i shall render the effects of the obliquity of the earth's axis clearer to you, by the revolution of the little globe round a candle, which shall represent the sun. (plate ix. fig. .) as i now hold it, at a, you see it in the situation in which it is in the midst of summer, or what is called the summer solstice, which is on the st of june. _emily._ you hold the wire awry, i suppose, in order to show that the axis of the earth is not upright? _mrs. b._ yes; in summer, the north pole is inclined towards the sun. in this season, therefore, the northern hemisphere enjoys much more of his rays than the southern. the sun, you see, now shines over the whole of the north frigid zone, and notwithstanding the earth's diurnal revolution, which i imitate by twirling the ball on the wire, it will continue to shine upon it as long as it remains in this situation, whilst the south frigid zone is at the same time completely in darkness. _caroline._ that is very strange; i never before heard that there was constant day or night in any part of the world! how much happier the inhabitants of the north frigid zone must be than those of the southern; the first enjoy uninterrupted day, while the last are involved in perpetual darkness. _mrs. b._ you judge with too much precipitation; examine a little further, and you will find, that the two frigid zones share an equal fate. we shall now make the earth set off from its position in the summer solstice, and carry it round the sun; observe that the pole is always inclined in the same direction, and points to the same spot in the heavens. there is a fixed star situated near that spot, which is hence called the north polar star. now let us stop the earth at b, and examine it in its present situation; it has gone through one quarter of its orbit, and is arrived at that point at which the ecliptic cuts, or crosses, the equator, and which is called the autumnal equinox. _emily._ the sun now shines from one pole to the other, just as it would constantly do, if the axis of the earth were perpendicular to its orbit. _mrs. b._ because the inclination of the axis is now neither towards the sun, nor in the contrary direction; at this period of the year, the days and nights are equal in every part of the earth. but the next step she takes in her orbit, you see, involves the north pole in darkness, whilst it illumines that of the south; this change was gradually preparing as i moved the earth from summer to autumn; the arctic circle, which was at first entirely illumined, began to have short nights, which increased as the earth approached the autumnal equinox; and the instant it passed that point, the long night of the north pole commences, and the south pole begins to enjoy the light of the sun. we shall now make the earth proceed in its orbit, and you may observe that as it advances, the days shorten and the nights lengthen, throughout the northern hemisphere, until it arrives at the winter solstice, on the st of december, when the north frigid zone is entirely in darkness, and the southern has uninterrupted daylight. [illustration: plate x.] _caroline._ then, after all, the sun which i thought so partial, confers his favours equally on all. _mrs. b._ not so either: the inhabitants of the torrid zone have much more heat than we have, as the sun's rays fall perpendicularly twice in the course of a year, on every place within the tropics, while they shine more or less obliquely on the rest of the world, and almost horizontally at the poles; for during their long day of six months, the sun moves round their horizon without either rising or setting; the only observable difference, is that it is more elevated by a few degrees at mid-day, than at midnight. _emily._ to a person placed in the temperate zone, in the situation in which we are in england, the sun will shine neither so obliquely as it does on the poles, nor vertically as at the equator; but its rays will fall upon him more obliquely in autumn, and winter, than in summer. _caroline._ and therefore, the inhabitants of the temperate zones, will not have merely one day, and one night, in the year, as happens at the poles, nor will they have equal days, and equal nights, as at the equator; but their days and nights will vary in length, at different times of the year, according as their respective poles incline towards, or from the sun, and the difference will be greater in proportion to their distance from the equator. _mrs. b._ we shall now follow the earth through the other half of her orbit, and you will observe, that now exactly the same changes take place in the southern hemisphere, as those we have just remarked in the northern. day commences at the south pole, when night sets in at the north pole; and in every other part of the southern hemisphere the days are longer than the nights, while, on the contrary, our nights are longer than our days. when the earth arrives at the vernal equinox, d, where the ecliptic again cuts the equator, on the st of march, she is situated, with respect to the sun, exactly in the same position, as in the autumnal equinox; and the only difference with respect to the earth, is, that it is now autumn in the southern hemisphere, whilst it is spring with us. _caroline._ then the days and nights are again every where equal. _mrs. b._ yes, for the half of the globe which is enlightened, extends exactly from one pole to the other, the sun has just risen to the north pole, and is just setting to the south pole; but in every other part of the globe, the day and night is of twelve hours length; hence the word equinox, which is derived from the latin, meaning equal night. as our summer advances, the days lengthen in the northern hemisphere, and shorten in the southern, till the earth reaches the summer solstice, when the north frigid zone is entirely illumined, and the southern is in complete darkness; and we have now brought the earth again to the spot from whence we first accompanied her. _emily._ this is indeed a most satisfactory explanation of the cause of the different lengths of our days and nights, and of the variation of the seasons; and the more i learn, the more i admire the simplicity of means by which such wonderful effects are produced. _mrs. b._ i know not which is most worthy of our admiration, the causes, or the effects of the earth's revolution round the sun. the mind can find no object of contemplation more sublime, than the course of this magnificent globe, impelled by the combined powers of projection and attraction, to roll in one invariable course, around the source of light and heat: and what can be more delightful than the beneficent effects of this vivifying power on its attendant planet. it is at once the grand principle which animates and fecundates nature. _emily._ there is one circumstance in which this little ivory globe appears to me to differ from the earth; it is not quite dark on that side of it which is turned from the candle, as is the case with the earth when neither moon nor stars are visible. _mrs. b._ this is owing to the light of the candle, being reflected by the walls of the room, on every part of the globe, consequently that side of the globe, on which the candle does not directly shine, is not in total darkness. now the skies have no walls to reflect the sun's light on that side of our earth which is in darkness. _caroline._ i beg your pardon, mrs. b., i think that the moon, and stars, answer the purpose of walls in reflecting the sun's light to us in the night. _mrs. b._ very well, caroline; that is to say, the moon and planets; for the fixed stars, you know, shine by their own light. _emily._ you say, that the superior heat of the equatorial parts of the earth, arises from the rays falling perpendicularly on those regions, whilst they fall obliquely on these more northern regions; now i do not understand why perpendicular rays should afford more heat than oblique rays. _caroline._ you need only hold your hand perpendicularly over the candle, and then hold it sideways obliquely, to be sensible of the difference. _emily._ i do not doubt the fact, but i wish to have it explained. _mrs. b._ you are quite right; if caroline had not been satisfied with ascertaining the fact, without understanding it, she would not have brought forward the candle as an illustration; the reason why you feel so much more heat if you hold your hand perpendicularly over the candle, than if you hold it sideways, is because a stream of heated vapour constantly ascends from the candle, or any other burning body, which being lighter than the air of the room, does not spread laterally but rises perpendicularly, and this led you to suppose that the rays were hotter in the latter direction. had you reflected, you would have discovered that rays issuing from the candle sideways, are no less perpendicular to your hand when held opposite to them, than the rays which ascend when your hand is held over them. the reason why the sun's rays afford less heat when in an oblique direction, than when perpendicular, is because fewer of them fall upon an equal portion of the earth; this will be understood better by referring to plate . fig. , which represents two equal portions of the sun's rays, shining upon different parts of the earth. here it is evident, that the same quantity of rays fall on the space a b, as fall on the space b c; and as a b is less than b c, the heat and light will be much stronger in the former than in the latter; a b, you see, represents the equatorial regions, where the sun shines perpendicularly; and b c, the temperate and frozen climates, where his rays fall more obliquely. _emily._ this accounts not only for the greater heat of the equatorial regions, but for the greater heat of our summers, as the sun shines less obliquely in summer than in winter. _mrs. b._ this you will see exemplified in figure , in which the earth is represented, as it is situated on the st of june, and england receives less oblique, and consequently a greater number of rays, than at any other season; and figure , shows the situation of england on the st of december, when the rays of the sun fall most obliquely upon her. but there is also another reason why oblique rays give less heat, than perpendicular rays; which is, that they have a greater portion of the atmosphere to traverse; and though it is true, that the atmosphere is itself a transparent body, freely admitting the passage of the sun's rays, yet it is always loaded more or less with dense and foggy vapour, which the rays of the sun cannot easily penetrate; therefore, the greater the quantity of atmosphere the sun's rays have to pass through in their way to the earth, the less heat they will retain when they reach it. this will be better understood, by referring to fig. . the dotted line round the earth, describes the extent of the atmosphere, and the lines which proceed from the sun to the earth, the passage of two equal portions of the sun's rays, to the equatorial and polar regions; the latter you see, from its greater obliquity, passes through a greater extent of atmosphere. _caroline._ and this, no doubt, is the reason why the sun, in the morning and in the evening, gives so much less heat, than at mid-day. _mrs. b._ the diminution of heat, morning and evening, is certainly owing to the greater obliquity of the sun's rays; and they are also affected by the other, both the cause, which i have just explained to you; the difficulty of passing through a foggy atmosphere is perhaps more particularly applicable to them, as mist and vapours are prevalent about the time of sunrise and sunset. but the diminished obliquity of the sun's rays, is not the sole cause of the heat of summer; the length of the days greatly conduces to it; for the longer the sun is above the horizon, the more heat he will communicate to the earth. _caroline._ both the longest days, and the most perpendicular rays, are on the st of june; and yet the greatest heat prevails in july and august. _mrs. b._ those parts of the earth which are once heated, retain the heat for some length of time, and the additional heat they receive, occasions an elevation of temperature, although the days begin to shorten, and the sun's rays to fall more obliquely. for the same reason, we have generally more heat at three o'clock in the afternoon, than at twelve, when the sun is on the meridian. _emily._ and pray, have the other planets the same vicissitudes of seasons, as the earth? _mrs. b._ some of them more, some less, according as their axes deviate more or less from the perpendicular, to the plane of their orbits. the axis of jupiter, is nearly perpendicular to the plane of his orbit; the axes of mars, and of saturn, are each, inclined at angles of about sixty degrees; whilst the axis of venus is believed to be elevated only fifteen or twenty degrees above her orbit; the vicissitudes of her seasons must therefore be considerably greater than ours. for further particulars respecting the planets, i shall refer you to bonnycastle's introduction to astronomy. i have but one more observation to make to you, relative to the earth's motion; which is, that although we have but days and nights in the year, she performs complete revolutions on her axis, during that time. _caroline._ how is that possible? for every complete revolution must bring the same place back to the sun. it is now just twelve o'clock, the sun is, therefore, on our meridian; in twenty-four hours will it not have returned to our meridian again, and will not the earth have made a complete rotation on its axis? _mrs. b._ if the earth had no progressive motion in its orbit whilst it revolves on its axis, this would be the case; but as it advances almost a degree westward in its orbit, in the same time that it completes a revolution eastward on its axis, it must revolve nearly one degree more in order to bring the same meridian back to the sun. _caroline._ oh, yes! it will require as much more of a second revolution to bring the same meridian back to the sun, as is equal to the space the earth has advanced in her orbit; that is, nearly a degree; this difference is, however, very little. _mrs. b._ these small daily portions of rotation, are each equal to the three hundred and sixty-fifth part of a circle, which at the end of the year amounts to one complete rotation. _emily._ that is extremely curious. if the earth then, had no other than its diurnal motion, we should have days in the year. _mrs. b._ we should have days in the same period of time that we now have ; but if we did not revolve round the sun, we should have no natural means of computing years. you will be surprised to hear, that if time is calculated by the stars instead of the sun, the irregularity which we have just noticed does not occur, and that one complete rotation of the earth on its axis, brings the same meridian back to any fixed star. _emily._ that seems quite unaccountable; for the earth advances in her orbit with regard to the fixed stars, the same as with regard to the sun. _mrs. b._ true, but then the distance of the fixed stars is so immense, that our solar system is in comparison to it but a spot, and the whole extent of the earth's orbit but a point; therefore, whether the earth remain stationary, or whether it revolved in its orbit during its rotation on its axis, no sensible difference would be produced with regard to the fixed stars. one complete revolution brings the same meridian back to the same fixed star; hence the fixed stars appear to go round the earth in a shorter time than the sun by three minutes fifty-six seconds of time. _caroline._ these three minutes fifty-six seconds is the time which the earth takes to perform the additional three hundred and sixty-fifth part of the circle, in order to bring the same meridian back to the sun. _mrs. b._ precisely. hence the stars gain every day three minutes fifty-six seconds on the sun, which makes them rise that portion of time earlier every day. when time is calculated by the stars it is called sidereal time; when by the sun, solar, or apparent time. _caroline._ then a sidereal day is three minutes fifty-six seconds shorter, than a solar day of twenty-four hours. _mrs. b._ i must also explain to you what is meant by a sidereal year. the common year, called the solar or tropical year, containing days, five hours, forty-eight minutes and fifty-two seconds, is measured from the time the sun sets out from one of the equinoxes, or solstices, till it returns to the same again; but this year is completed, before the earth has finished one entire revolution in its orbit. _emily._ i thought that the earth performed one complete revolution in its orbit, every year; what is the reason of this variation? _mrs. b._ it is owing to the spheroidal figure of the earth. the elevation about the equator produces much the same effect as if a similar mass of matter, collected in the form of a moon, revolved round the equator. when this moon acted on the earth, in conjunction with, or in opposition to the sun, variations in the earth's motion would be occasioned, and these variations produce what is called the precession of the equinoxes. [illustration: plate xi.] _emily._ what does that mean? i thought the equinoctial points, were fixed points in the heavens, in which the equator cuts the ecliptic. _mrs. b._ these points are not quite fixed, but have an apparently retrograde motion, among the signs of the zodiac; that is to say, instead of being at every revolution in the same place, they move backwards. thus if the vernal equinox is at a, (fig. . plate xi.) the autumnal one, will be at b, instead of c, and the following vernal equinox, at d, instead of at a, as would be the case if the equinoxes were stationary, at opposite points of the earth's orbit. _caroline._ so that when the earth moves from one equinox to the other, though it takes half a year to perform the journey, it has not travelled through half its orbit. _mrs. b._ and, consequently, when it returns again to the first equinox, it has not completed the whole of its orbit. in order to ascertain when the earth has performed an entire revolution in its orbit, we must observe when the sun returns in conjunction with any fixed star; and this is called a sidereal year. supposing a fixed star situated at e, (fig. . plate xi.) the sun would not appear in conjunction with it, till the earth had returned to a, when it would have completed its orbit. _emily._ and how much longer is the sidereal, than the solar year? _mrs. b._ only twenty minutes; so that the variation of the equinoctial points is very inconsiderable. i have given them a greater extent in the figure, in order to render them sensible. in regard to time, i must further add, that the earth's diurnal motion on an inclined axis, together with its annual revolution in an elliptic orbit, occasions so much complication in its motion, as to produce many irregularities; therefore the true time cannot be measured by the apparent place of the sun. a perfectly correct clock, would in some parts of the year be before the sun, and in other parts after it. there are but four periods in which the sun and a perfect clock would agree, which is the th of april, the th of june, the d of august, and the th of december. _emily._ and is there any considerable difference between solar time, and true time? _mrs. b._ the greatest difference amounts to between fifteen and sixteen minutes. tables of equation are constructed for the purpose of pointing out, and correcting these differences between solar time and equal or mean time, which is the denomination given by astronomers, to true time. questions . (pg. ) what does the line a b, (fig. plate .) represent, and what are its extremities called? . (pg. ) what is meant by the equator, and how is it situated? . (pg. ) there are two hemispheres; how are they named and distinguished? . (pg. ) what are the circles near the poles called? . (pg. ) what do the lines i k, and l m, represent? . (pg. ) what circle is in part represented by the line l k? . (pg. ) against what mistake must you guard respecting this line? . (pg. ) what is meant by a plane, and how could one be represented? . (pg. ) describe what is intended by the plane of the earth's orbit. . (pg. ) extending this plane to the fixed stars, what circle would it form, and among what particular stars would it be found? . (pg. ) what is fig. . plate , designed to represent? . (pg. ) the ecliptic does not properly belong to the earth, for what purpose then is it described on the terrestrial globe? . (pg. ) what does the obliquity of the ecliptic to the equator serve to show? . (pg. ) within what limits do you find the torrid zone? . (pg. ) what two zones are there between the torrid, and the two frigid zones? . (pg. ) where are the frigid zones situated? . (pg. ) what is meant by the term zone; and are the frigid zones properly so called? . (pg. ) how do meridian lines extend, and what is meant by the meridian of a place? . (pg. ) what is said of the meridian to which the sun is opposite, and where is it then midnight? . (pg. ) what hour is it then, at places exactly half way between these meridians? . (pg. ) how are greater and lesser circles distinguished? . (pg. ) what part of a circle is a degree, and how are these further divided? . (pg. ) what is the diameter, and what the circumference of a circle, and what proportion do they bear to each other? . (pg. ) what part of a circle is a meridian? . (pg. ) how many degrees are there between the equator and the poles? . (pg. ) into what parts, besides degrees, is the ecliptic divided? . (pg. ) how are degrees of latitude measured, and to what number do they extend? . (pg. ) on what circles are degrees of longitude measured, and to what number do they extend? . (pg. ) what is a parallel of latitude? . (pg. ) degrees of longitude vary in length; what is the cause of this? . (pg. ) what is the length of a degree of latitude, and why do not these vary? . (pg. ) what causes the equator to be somewhat larger than a great circle passing through the poles, and what effect has this on degrees of longitude measured on the equator? . (pg. ) what is the cause of this form being given to the earth? . (pg. ) what would have been a consequence of the centrifugal force, had the earth been a perfect sphere? . (pg. ) a body situated at the poles, is attracted more forcibly than if placed at the equator, what is the reason? . (pg. ) what effect would be produced upon the gravity of a body, were it placed beneath the surface of the earth, and what supposing it at its centre? . (pg. ) what two circumstances combine, to lessen the weight of a body on the equator? . (pg. ) why could not this be proved by weighing a body at the poles, and at the equator? . (pg. ) what is a pendulum? . (pg. ) what causes it to vibrate? . (pg. ) why are not its vibrations perpetual? . (pg. ) two pendulums of the same length, will not, in different latitudes, perform their vibrations in equal times, what is the cause of this? . (pg. ) to what use has this property of the pendulum been applied? . (pg. ) what change must be made in pendulums situated at the equator and at the poles, to render their vibrations equal? . (pg. ) what do the vibrations of a pendulum resemble, and why will it vibrate more rapidly if shortened? . (pg. ) in the revolution of the earth round the sun, what is the position of its axis? . (pg. ) how much is the axis of the earth inclined, and with what line does it form this angle? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how is the north pole inclined in the middle of our summer, and what effect has this on the north frigid zone? . (pg. ) in what direction does the north pole always point? . (pg. ) what is shown by the position of the earth at b, in the figure? . (pg. ) how does the sun then shine at the poles, and what is the effect on the days and nights? . (pg. ) when the earth has passed the autumnal equinox, what changes take place at the poles, and also in the whole northern and southern hemispheres? . (pg. ) why is the heat greatest within the torrid zone? . (pg. ) how does the sun appear at the poles, during the period of day there? . (pg. ) in what will the days and nights differ in the temperate zone, from those at the poles, and at the equator? . (pg. ) trace the earth from the winter solstice to the vernal equinox, and inform me what changes take place. . (pg. ) what takes place at the time of the vernal equinox, and what is meant by the term? . (pg. ) in proceeding from the vernal equinox to the summer solstice, what changes take place? . (pg. ) from what cause arises the superior heat of the equatorial regions? . (pg. ) why should oblique rays afford less heat than those which are perpendicular? . (pg. ) how is this explained by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) how do you account for the superior heat of summer, and how is this exemplified in fig. and , plate ? . (pg. ) what other cause lessens the intensity of oblique rays? . (pg. ) how is this explained by fig. ? . (pg. ) what causes conspire to lessen the solar heat in the morning and evening? . (pg. ) the greatest heat of summer is after the solstice, and the greatest heat of the day, after o'clock, although the sun's rays are then most direct, how is this accounted for? . (pg. ) is there any change of seasons in the other planets? . (pg. ) what is said respecting the axes of jupiter, of mars, and of saturn? . (pg. ) in days, how many times does the earth revolve on its axis? . (pg. ) how is this accounted for? . (pg. ) do the fixed stars require the same time as the sun, to return to the same meridian? . (pg. ) how is this accounted for? . (pg. ) what is meant by the solar and the sidereal day? . (pg. ) what is the difference in time between them? . (pg. ) what is the length of the tropical year? . (pg. ) the solar year is completed before the earth has made a complete revolution in its orbit, by what is this caused? . (pg. ) what is this called, and what is represented respecting it by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) by what means can we ascertain the period of a complete revolution of the earth in its orbit, as illustrated by the fixed star e, in fig. ? . (pg. ) what difference is there in the length of the solar and sidereal year? . (pg. ) why can we not always ascertain the true time by the apparent place of the sun? . (pg. ) what would be the greatest difference between solar, and true time, as indicated by a perfect clock? conversation ix. on the moon. of the moon's motion. phases of the moon. eclipses of the moon. eclipses of jupiter's moons. of latitude and longitude. of the transits of the inferior planets. of the tides. mrs. b. we shall, to-day, confine our attention to the moon, which offers many interesting phenomena. the moon revolves round the earth in the space of about twenty-nine days and a half; in an orbit, the plane of which is inclined upwards of five degrees to that of the earth; she accompanies us in our revolution round the sun. _emily._ her motion then must be of a complicated nature; for as the earth is not stationary, but advances in her orbit, whilst the moon goes round her, the moon, in passing round the sun, must proceed in a sort of scolloped circle. _mrs. b._ that is true; and there are also other circumstances which interfere with the simplicity, and regularity of the moon's motion, but which are too intricate for you to understand at present. the moon always presents the same face to us, by which it is evident that she turns but once upon her axis, while she performs a revolution round the earth; so that the inhabitants of the moon have but one day, and one night, in the course of a lunar month. _caroline._ we afford them, however, the advantage of a magnificent moon to enlighten their long nights. _mrs. b._ that advantage is put partial; for since we always see the same hemisphere of the moon, the inhabitants of that hemisphere alone, can perceive us. _caroline._ one half of the moon then enjoys our light, while the other half has constantly nights of darkness. if there are any astronomers in those regions, they would doubtless be tempted to visit the other hemisphere, in order to behold so grand a luminary as we must appear to them. but, pray, do they see the earth under all the changes, which the moon exhibits to us? _mrs. b._ exactly so. these changes are called the phases of the moon, and require some explanation. in fig. , plate , let us say, that s represents the sun, e the earth, and a b c d e f g h, the moon, in different parts of her orbit. when the moon is at a, her dark side being turned towards the earth, we shall not see her as at _a_; but her disappearance is of very short duration, and as she advances in her orbit, we perceive her under the form of a new moon: when she has gone through one eighth of her orbit at b, one quarter of her enlightened hemisphere will be turned towards the earth, and she will then appear horned as at _b_; when she has performed one quarter of her orbit, she shows us one half of her enlightened side, as at _c_, and this is called her first quarter; at _d_ she is said to be gibbous, and at _e_ the whole of the enlightened side appears to us, and the moon is at full. as she proceeds in her orbit, she becomes again gibbous, and her enlightened hemisphere turns gradually away from us, until she arrives at g, which is her third quarter; proceeding thence she completes her orbit and disappears, and then again resumes her form of a new moon, and passes successively, through the same changes. when the moon is new, she is said to be in conjunction with the sun, as they are then both in the same direction from the earth; at the time of full moon, she is said to be in opposition, because she and the sun, are at opposite sides of the earth; at the time of her first and third quarters, she is said to be in her quadratures, because she is then one-fourth of a circle, or °, from her conjunction, or the period of new moon. _emily._ are not the eclipses of the sun produced by the moon passing between the sun and the earth? _mrs. b._ yes; when the moon passes between the sun and the earth, she intercepts his rays, or, in other words, casts a shadow on the earth, then the sun is eclipsed, and daylight gives place to darkness, while the moon's shadow is passing over us. when, on the contrary, the earth is between the sun and the moon, it is we who intercept the sun's rays, and cast a shadow on the moon; she is then said to be eclipsed, and disappears from our view. _emily._ but as the moon goes round the earth every month, she must be, once during that time, between the earth and the sun; and the earth must likewise be once between the sun and the moon, and yet we have not a solar and a lunar eclipse every month? _mrs. b._ i have already informed you, that the orbits of the earth and moon are not in the same plane, but cross or intersect each other; and the moon generally passes either above or below that of the earth, when she is in conjunction with the sun, and does not therefore intercept its rays, and produce an eclipse; for this can take place only when the moon is in, or near her nodes, which is the name given to those two points in which her orbit crosses that of the earth; eclipses cannot happen at any other time, because it is then only, that they are both in a right line with the sun. _emily._ and a partial eclipse of the moon takes place, i suppose, when, in passing by the earth, she is not sufficiently above or below the shadow, to escape it entirely? _mrs. b._ yes, one edge of her disk then dips into the shadow, and is eclipsed; but as the earth is larger than the moon, when eclipses happen precisely at the nodes, they are not only total, but last for upwards of three hours. [illustration: plate xii.] a total eclipse of the sun rarely occurs, and when it happens, the total darkness is confined to one particular part of the earth, the diameter of the shadow not exceeding miles; evidently showing that the moon is smaller than the sun, since she cannot entirely hide it from the earth. in fig. , plate , you will find a solar eclipse described; s is the sun, m the moon, and e the earth; and the moon's shadow, you see, is not large enough to cover the earth. the lunar eclipses, on the contrary, are visible from every part of the earth, where the moon is above the horizon; and we discover, by the length of time which the moon is passing through the earth's shadow, that it would be sufficient to eclipse her totally, were she many times her actual size; it follows, therefore, that the earth is much larger than the moon. in fig. , s represents the sun, which pours forth rays of light in straight lines, in every direction. e is the earth, and m the moon. now a ray of light coming from one extremity of the sun's disk, in the direction a b, will meet another, coming from the opposite extremity, in the direction c b; the shadow of the earth cannot therefore extend beyond b; as the sun is larger than the earth, the shadow of the latter is conical, or in the figure of a sugar loaf; it gradually diminishes, and is much smaller than the earth where the moon passes through it, and yet we find the moon to be, not only totally eclipsed, but to remain for a considerable length of time in darkness, and hence we are enabled to ascertain its real dimensions. _emily._ when the moon eclipses the sun to us, we must be eclipsed to the moon? _mrs. b._ certainly; for if the moon intercepts the sun's rays, and casts a shadow on us, we must necessarily disappear to the moon, but only partially, as in fig. . _caroline._ there must be a great number of eclipses in the distant planets, which have so many moons? _mrs. b._ yes, few days pass without an eclipse taking place; for among the number of satellites, one or the other of them are continually passing either between their primary and the sun; or between the planet, and each other. astronomers are so well acquainted with the motion of the planets, and their satellites, that they have calculated not only the eclipses of our moon, but those of jupiter, with such perfect accuracy, that it has afforded a means of ascertaining the longitude. _caroline._ but is it not very easy to find both the latitude and longitude of any place by a map or globe? _mrs. b._ if you know where you are situated, there is no difficulty in ascertaining the latitude or longitude of the place, by referring to a map; but supposing that you had been a length of time at sea, interrupted in your course by storms, a map would afford you very little assistance in discovering where you were. _caroline._ under such circumstances, i confess i should be equally at a loss to discover either latitude, or longitude. _mrs. b._ the latitude is usually found by taking the altitude of the sun at mid-day; that is to say, the number of degrees that it is elevated above the horizon, for the sun appears more elevated as we approach the equator, and less as we recede from it. _caroline._ but unless you can see the sun, how can you take its altitude? _mrs. b._ when it is too cloudy to see the sun, the latitude is sometimes found at night, by the polar star; the north pole of the earth, points constantly towards one particular part of the heavens, in which a star is situated, called the polar star: this star is visible on clear nights, from every part of the northern hemisphere; the altitude of the polar star, is therefore the same number of degrees, as that of the pole; the latitude may also be determined by observations made on any of the fixed stars: the situation therefore of a vessel at sea, with regard to north and south, is easily ascertained. the difficulty is, respecting east and west, that is to say, its longitude. as we have no eastern poles from which we can reckon our distance, some particular spot, or line, must be fixed upon for that purpose. the english, reckon from the meridian of greenwich, where the royal observatory is situated; in french maps, you will find that the longitude is reckoned from the meridian of paris. the rotation of the earth on its axis in hours from west to east, occasions, you know, an apparent motion of the sun and stars in a contrary direction, and the sun appears to go round the earth in the space of hours, passing over fifteen degrees, or a twenty-fourth part of the earth's circumference every hour; therefore, when it is twelve o'clock in london, it is one o'clock in any place situated fifteen degrees to the east of london, as the sun must have passed the meridian of that place, an hour before he reaches that of london. for the same reason it is eleven o'clock in any place situated fifteen degrees to the west of london, as the sun will not come to that meridian till an hour later. if then the captain of a vessel at sea, could know precisely what was the hour at london, he could, by looking at his watch, and comparing it with the hour at the spot in which he was, ascertain the longitude. _emily._ but if he had not altered his watch, since he sailed from london, it would indicate the hour it then was in london. _mrs. b._ true; but in order to know the hour of the day at the spot in which he is, the captain of a vessel regulates his watch by the sun when it reaches the meridian. _emily._ then if he had two watches, he might keep one regulated daily, and leave the other unaltered; the former would indicate the hour of the place in which he was situated, and the latter the hour at london; and by comparing them together, he would be able to calculate his longitude. _mrs. b._ you have discovered, emily, a mode of finding the longitude, which i have the pleasure to tell you, is universally adopted: watches of a superior construction, called chronometers, or time-keepers, are used for this purpose, and are now made with such accuracy, as not to vary more than four or five seconds in a whole year; but the best watches are liable to imperfections, and should the time-keeper go too fast or too slow, there would be no means of ascertaining the error; implicit reliance, cannot consequently be placed upon them. recourse, therefore, is sometimes had to the eclipses of jupiter's satellites. a table is made, of the precise time at which the several moons are eclipsed to a spectator at london; when they appear eclipsed to a spectator in any other spot, he may, by consulting the table, know what is the hour at london; for the eclipse is visible at the same moment, from whatever place on the earth it is seen. he has then only to look at his watch, which he regulates by the sun, and which therefore points out the hour of the place in which he is, and by observing the difference of time there, and at london, he may immediately determine his longitude. let us suppose, that a certain moon of jupiter is always eclipsed at six o'clock in the evening; and that a man at sea consults his watch, and finds that it is ten o'clock at night, where he is situated, at the moment the eclipse takes place, what will be his longitude? _emily._ that is four hours later than in london: four times fifteen degrees, make ; he would, therefore, be sixty degrees east of london, for the sun must have passed his meridian before it reaches that of london. _mrs. b._ for this reason the hour is always later than in london, when the place is east longitude, and earlier when it is west longitude. thus the longitude can be ascertained whenever the eclipses of jupiter's moons are visible. _caroline._ but do not the primary planets, sometimes eclipse the sun from each other, as they pass round in their orbits? _mrs. b._ they must of course sometimes pass between each other and the sun, but as their shadows never reach each other, they hide so little of his light, that the term eclipse is not in this case used; this phenomenon is called a transit. the primary planets do not any of them revolve in the same plane, and the times of their revolution round the sun is considerable, it therefore but rarely happens that they are at the same time, in conjunction with the sun, and in their nodes. it is evident also, that a planet must be inferior (that is within the orbit of another) in order to its apparently passing over the disk of the sun. mercury, and venus, have sometimes passed in a right line between us, and the sun, but being at so great a distance from us, their shadows did not extend so far as the earth; no darkness was therefore produced on any part of our globe; but the planet appeared like a small black spot, passing across the sun's disk. it was by the last transit of venus, that astronomers were enabled to calculate, with some degree of accuracy, the distance of the earth from the sun, and the dimensions of the latter. _emily._ i have heard that the tides are affected by the moon, but i cannot conceive what influence it can have on them. _mrs. b._ they are produced by the moon's attraction, which draws up the waters of that part of the ocean over which the moon passes, so as to cause it to stand considerably higher than the surrounding parts. _caroline._ does attraction act on water more powerfully than on land? i should have thought it would have been just the contrary, for land is certainly a more dense body than water? _mrs b._ tides do not arise from water being more strongly attracted than land, for this certainly is not the case; but the cohesion of fluids, being much less than that of solid bodies, they more easily yield to the power of gravity; in consequence of which, the waters immediately below the moon, are drawn up by it, producing a full tide, or what is commonly called, high water, at the spot where it happens. so far, the theory of the tides is not difficult to understand. _caroline._ on the contrary, nothing can be more simple; the waters, in order to rise up under the moon, must draw the waters from the opposite side of the globe, and occasion ebb-tide, or low water, in those parts. _mrs. b._ you draw your conclusion rather too hastily, my dear; for according to your theory, we should have full tide only once in about twenty-four hours, that is, every time that we were below the moon, while we find that in this time we have two tides, and that it is high water with us, and with our antipodes, at the same time. _caroline._ yet it must be impossible for the moon to attract the sea in opposite parts of the globe, and in opposite directions, at the same time. _mrs. b._ this opposite tide, is rather more difficult to explain, than that which is immediately beneath the moon; with a little attention, however, i hope i shall be able to make you understand the explanation which has been given of it, by astronomers. it must be confessed, however, that the theory upon this subject, is attended with some difficulties. you recollect that the earth and the moon mutually attract each other, but do you suppose that every part of the earth is equally attracted by the moon? _emily._ certainly not; you have taught us that the force of attraction decreases, with the increase of distance, and therefore that part of the earth which is farthest from the moon, must be attracted less powerfully, than that to which she is nearest. _mrs. b._ this fact will aid us in the explanation which i am about to give to you. in order to render the question more simple, let us suppose the earth to be every where covered by the ocean, as represented in (fig. . pl. .) m is the moon, a b c d the earth. now the waters on the surface of the earth, about a, being more strongly attracted than any other part, will be elevated: the attraction of the moon at b and c being less, and at d least of all. the high tide at a, is accounted for from the direct attraction of the moon; to produce this the waters are drawn from b and c, where it will consequently be low water. at d, the attraction of the moon being considerably decreased, the waters are left relatively high, which height is increased, by the centrifugal force of the earth being greater at d than at a, in consequence of its greater distance from the common centre of gravity x, between the earth and the moon. _emily._ the tide a, then, is produced by the moon's attraction, and the tide d, is produced by the centrifugal force, and increased by the feebleness of the moon's attraction, in those parts. _caroline._ and when it is high water at a and d, it is low water at b and c: now i think i comprehend the nature of the tides, though i confess it is not quite so easy as i at first thought. but, mrs. b., why does not the sun produce tides, as well as the moon; for its attraction is greater than that of the moon? _mrs. b._ it would be at an equal distance, but our vicinity to the moon, makes her influence more powerful. the sun has, however, a considerable effect on the tides, and increases or diminishes them as it acts in conjunction with, or in opposition to the moon. _emily._ i do not quite understand that. _mrs. b._ the moon is a month in going round the earth; twice during that time, therefore, at full and at change, she is in the same direction as the sun; both, then act in conjunction on the earth, and produce very great tides, called spring tides, as represented in fig. , at a and b; but when the moon is at the intermediate parts of her orbit, that is in her quadratures, the sun, instead of affording assistance, weakens her power, by acting in opposition to it; and smaller tides are produced, called neap tides, as represented at m, in fig. . _emily._ i have often observed the difference of these tides, when i have been at the sea side. but since attraction is mutual between the moon and the earth, we must produce tides in the moon; and these must be more considerable in proportion as our planet is larger. and yet the moon does not appear of an oval form. _mrs. b._ you must recollect, that in order to render the explanation of the tides clearer, we suppose the whole surface of the earth to be covered with the ocean; but that is not really the case, either with the earth or the moon, and the land which intersects the water, destroys the regularity of the effect. thus, in flowing up rivers, in passing round points of land, and into bays and inlets, the water is obstructed, and high water must happen much later, than would otherwise be the case. _caroline._ true; we may, however, be certain that whenever it is high water, the moon is immediately over our heads. _mrs. b._ not so either; for as a similar effect is produced on that part of the globe immediately beneath the moon, and on that part most distant from it, it cannot be over the heads of the inhabitants of both those situations, at the same time. besides, as the orbit of the moon is very nearly parallel to that of the earth, she is never vertical, but to the inhabitants of the torrid zone. _caroline._ in the torrid zone, then, i hope you will grant that the moon is immediately over, or opposite the spots where it is high water? _mrs. b._ i cannot even admit that; for the ocean naturally partaking of the earth's motion, in its rotation from west to east, the moon, in forming a tide, has to contend against the eastern motion of the waves. all matter, you know, by its inertia, makes some resistance to a change of state; the waters, therefore, do not readily yield to the attraction of the moon, and the effect of her influence is not complete, till three hours after she has passed the meridian, where it is full tide. when a body is impelled by any force, its motion may continue, after the impelling force ceases to act: this is the case with all projectiles. a stone thrown from the hand, continues its motion for a length of time, proportioned to the force given to it: there is a perfect analogy between this effect, and the continued rise of the water, after the moon has passed the meridian at any particular place. _emily._ pray what is the reason that the tide is three-quarters of an hour later every day? _mrs. b._ because it is twenty-four hours and three-quarters before the same meridian, on our globe, returns beneath the moon. the earth revolves on its axis in about twenty-four hours; if the moon were stationary, therefore, the same part of our globe would, every twenty-four hours, return beneath the moon; but as during our daily revolution, the moon advances in her orbit, the earth must make more than a complete rotation, in order to bring the same meridian opposite the moon: we are three-quarters of an hour in overtaking her. the tides, therefore, are retarded, for the same reason that the moon rises later by three-quarters of an hour, every day. we have now, i think, concluded the observations i had to make to you on the subject of astronomy; at our next interview, i shall attempt to explain to you the elements of hydrostatics. questions . (pg. ) in what time does the moon revolve round the earth? what is the inclination of her orbit? and how does she accompany the earth? . (pg. ) as the moon revolves round the earth, and also accompanies it in its annual revolution, in what form would you draw the moon's orbit? . (pg. ) what causes the moon always to present the same face to the earth, and what must be the length of a day and night to its inhabitants? . (pg. ) can the earth be seen from every part of the moon, and will it always exhibit the same appearance? . (pg. ) what are the changes of the moon called? . (pg. ) how are these changes explained by fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) what is meant by her first quarter? . (pg. ) what by her being horned, and her being gibbous? . (pg. ) what by her being full? . (pg. ) what by her third quarter? . (pg. ) what is meant by her conjunction?--what by her being in opposition?--what by her quadratures? . (pg. ) by what are eclipses of the sun caused? . (pg. ) what causes eclipses of the moon? . (pg. ) what is meant by the moon's nodes? . (pg. ) why do not eclipses happen at every new and full moon? . (pg. ) what causes partial eclipses of the moon? . (pg. ) when the moon is exactly in one of her nodes, what length of time will she be eclipsed? . (pg. ) are total eclipses of the sun frequent, and when they happen what is their extent? . (pg. ) what does this prove respecting the size of the moon? . (pg. ) what is shown in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how are lunar eclipses visible, and what is proved by their duration? . (pg. ) what is illustrated by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what remark is made respecting those planets which have several moons? . (pg. ) what use is made of the eclipses of the satellites of jupiter? . (pg. ) how is the latitude of a place usually found? . (pg. ) by what other means may latitude be found? . (pg. ) from what is longitude reckoned? . (pg. ) how does the rotation of the earth upon its axis, govern the time at different places? . (pg. ) what two circumstances, if known, will enable you to find your longitude from a given place? . (pg. ) by what means may a captain find the time at london, and in the place where his ship may be? . (pg. ) how may the eclipses of jupiter's satellites be used to find the longitude? . (pg. ) give an example. . (pg. ) how will you know whether the longitude is east or west? . (pg. ) what is meant by the transit of a planet? . (pg. ) why can we see transits of venus and mercury only? . (pg. ) by what are tides caused? . (pg. ) why is not a similar effect produced on the land? . (pg. ) in what two parts of the world is it high water at the same time? . (pg. ) what circumstances respecting the decrease of attraction are taken into account, in explaining the tides? . (pg. ) how are the high tides at a and d, and the low ones at b and c, in fig. . pl. , accounted for? . (pg. ) has the sun any influence on the tides, and why is it less than that of the moon? . (pg. ) what is meant by spring tides, and how are they produced? . (pg. ) what by neap tides, and how are they caused? . (pg. ) what circumstances affect the time of the tide in rivers, bays, &c.? . (pg. ) why in the open ocean, is it high water, some hours after the moon has passed the meridian? . (pg. ) why are the tides three-quarters of an hour later every day? conversation x. on the mechanical properties of fluids. definition of a fluid. distinction between fluids and liquids. of non-elastic fluids. scarcely susceptible of compression. of the cohesion of fluids. of their gravitation. of their equilibrium. of their pressure. of specific gravity. of the specific gravity of bodies heavier than water. of those of the same weight as water. of those lighter than water. of the specific gravity of fluids. mrs. b. we have hitherto confined our attention to the mechanical properties of solid bodies, which have been illustrated, and, i hope, thoroughly impressed upon your memory, by the conversations we have subsequently had, on astronomy. it will now be necessary for me to give you some account of the mechanical properties of fluids--a science which, when applied to liquids, is divided into two parts, hydrostatics and hydraulics. hydrostatics, treats of the weight and pressure of fluids; and hydraulics, of the motion of fluids, and the effects produced by this motion. a fluid is a substance which yields to the slightest pressure. if you dip your hand into a basin of water, you are scarcely sensible of meeting with any resistance. _emily._ the attraction of cohesion is then, i suppose, less powerful in fluids, than in solids? _mrs. b._ yes; fluids, generally speaking, are bodies of less density than solids. from the slight cohesion, of the particles of fluids, and the facility with which they slide over each other, it is inferred, that they have but a slight attraction for each other, and that this attraction is equal, in every position of their particles, and therefore produces no resistance to a perfect freedom of motion among themselves. _caroline._ pray what is the distinction between a fluid and a liquid? _mrs. b._ liquids comprehend only one class of fluids. there is another class, distinguished by the name of elastic fluids, or gases, which comprehends the air of the atmosphere, and all the various kinds of air with which you will become acquainted, when you study chemistry. their mechanical properties we shall examine hereafter, and confine our attention this morning, to those of liquids, or non-elastic fluids. water, and liquids in general, are scarcely susceptible of being compressed, or squeezed into a smaller space, than that which they naturally occupy. such, however, is the extreme minuteness of their particles, that by strong compression, they sometimes force their way through the pores of the substance which confines them. this was shown by a celebrated experiment, made at florence many years ago. a hollow globe of gold was filled with water, and on its being submitted to great pressure, the water was seen to exude through the pores of the gold, which it covered with a fine dew. many philosophers, however, think that this experiment is too much relied upon, as it does not appear that it has ever been repeated; it is possible, therefore, that there may have been some source of error, which was not discovered by the experimenters. fluids, appear to gravitate more freely, than solid bodies; for the strong cohesive attraction of the particles of the latter, in some measure counteracts the effect of gravity. in this table, for instance, the cohesion of the particles of wood, enables four slender legs to support a considerable weight. were the cohesion destroyed, or, in other words, the wood converted into a fluid, no support could be afforded by the legs, for the particles no longer cohering together, each would press separately and independently, and would be brought to a level with the surface of the earth. _emily._ this want of cohesion is then the reason why fluids can never be formed into figures, or maintained in heaps; for though it is true the wind raises water into waves, they are immediately afterwards destroyed by gravity, and water always finds its level. _mrs. b._ do you understand what is meant by the level, or equilibrium of fluids? _emily._ i believe i do, though i feel rather at a loss to explain it. is not a fluid level when its surface is smooth and flat, as is the case with all fluids, when in a state of rest? _mrs. b._ smooth, if you please, but not flat; for the definition of the equilibrium of a fluid is, that every part of the surface is equally distant from the point to which they gravitate, that is to say, from the centre of the earth; hence the surface of all fluids must be spherical, not flat, since they will partake of the spherical form of the globe. this is very evident in large bodies of water, such as the ocean, but the sphericity of small bodies of water, is so trifling, that their surfaces appear flat. this level, or equilibrium of fluids, is the natural result of their particles gravitating independently of each other; for when any particle of a fluid, accidentally finds itself elevated above the rest, it is attracted down to the level of the surface of the fluid, and the readiness with which fluids yield to the slightest impression, will enable the particle by its weight, to penetrate the surface of the fluid, and mix with it. _caroline._ but i have seen a drop of oil, float on the surface of water, without mixing with it. _mrs. b._ they do not mix, because their particles repel each other, and the oil rises to the surface, because oil is a lighter liquid than water. if you were to pour water over it, the oil would still rise, being forced up by the superior gravity of the water. here is an instrument called a spirit-level, (fig. , plate .) which is constructed upon the principle of the equilibrium of fluids. it consists of a short tube a b, closed at both ends, and containing a little water, or more commonly some spirits: it is so nearly filled, as to leave only a small bubble of air; when the tube is perfectly horizontal, this bubble will occupy the middle of it, but when not perfectly horizontal, the water runs to the lower, and the bubble of air or spirit rises to the upper end; by this instrument, the level of any situation, to which we apply it, may be ascertained. from the strong cohesion of their particles, you may therefore consider solid bodies as gravitating in masses, while every particle of a fluid may be considered as separate, and gravitating independently of each other. hence the resistance of a fluid, is considerably less, than that of a solid body; for the resistance of the particles, acting separately, is more easily overcome. _emily._ a body of water, in falling, does certainly less injury than a solid body of the same weight. _mrs. b._ the particles of fluids, acting thus independently, press against each other in every direction, not only downwards, but upwards, and laterally or sideways; and in consequence of this equality of pressure, every particle remains at rest, in the fluid. if you agitate the fluid, you disturb this equality of pressure, and the fluid will not rest, till its equilibrium is restored. [illustration: plate xiii.] _caroline._ the pressure downwards is very natural; it is the effect of gravity; one particle, weighing upon another, presses on it; but the pressure sideways, and particularly the pressure upwards, i cannot understand. _mrs. b._ if there were no lateral pressure, water would not run out of an opening on the side of a vessel. if you fill a vessel with sand, it will not continue to run out of such an opening, because there is scarcely any lateral pressure among its particles. _emily._ when water runs out of the side of a vessel, is it not owing to the weight of the water, above the opening? _mrs. b._ if the particles of fluids were arranged in regular columns, thus, (fig. .) there would be no lateral pressure, for when one particle is perpendicularly above the other, it can only press downwards; but as it must continually happen, that a particle presses between two particles beneath, (fig. .) these last, must suffer a lateral pressure. _emily._ the same as when a wedge is driven into a piece of wood, and separates the parts, laterally. _mrs. b._ yes. the lateral pressure proceeds, therefore, entirely from the pressure downwards, or the weight of the liquid above; and consequently, the lower the orifice is made in the vessel, the greater will be the velocity of the water rushing out of it. here is a vessel of water (fig. .), with three stop cocks at different heights; we shall open them, and you will see with what different degrees of velocity, the water issues from them. do you understand this, caroline? _caroline._ oh yes. the water from the upper spout, receiving but a slight pressure, on account of its vicinity to the surface, flows but gently; the second cock, having a greater weight above it, the water is forced out with greater velocity, whilst the lowest cock, being near the bottom of the vessel, receives the pressure of almost the whole body of water, and rushes out with the greatest impetuosity. _mrs. b._ very well; and you must observe, that as the lateral pressure, is entirely owing to the pressure downwards, it is not affected by the horizontal dimensions of the vessel, which contains the water, but merely by its depth; for as every particle acts independently of the rest, it is only the column of particles immediately above the orifice, that can weigh upon, and press out the water. _emily._ the breadth and width of the vessel then, can be of no consequence in this respect. the lateral pressure on one side, in a cubical vessel, is, i suppose, not so great as the pressure downwards upon the bottom. _mrs. b._ no; in a cubical vessel, the pressure downwards will be double the lateral pressure on one side; for every particle at the bottom of the vessel is pressed upon, by a column of the whole depth of the fluid, whilst the lateral pressure diminishes from the bottom upwards to the surface, where the particles have no pressure. _caroline._ and from whence proceeds the pressure of fluids upwards? that seems to me the most unaccountable, as it is in direct opposition to gravity. _mrs. b._ and yet it is in consequence of their pressure downwards. when, for example, you pour water into a tea-pot, the water rises in the spout, to a level with the water in the pot. the particles of water at the bottom of the pot, are pressed upon by the particles above them; to this pressure they will yield, if there is any mode of making way for the superior particles, and as they cannot descend, they will change their direction, and rise in the spout. suppose the tea-pot to be filled with columns of particles of water, similar to that described in fig. ., the particle , at the bottom, will be pressed laterally by the particle , and by this pressure be forced into the spout, where, meeting with the particle , it presses it upwards, and this pressure will be continued from to , from to , and so on, till the water in the spout, has risen to a level with that in the pot. _emily._ if it were not for this pressure upwards, forcing the water to rise in the spout, the equilibrium of the fluid would be destroyed. _caroline._ true; but then a tea-pot is wide and large, and the weight of so great a body of water as the pot will contain, may easily force up and support so small a quantity, as will fill the spout. but would the same effect be produced, if the spout and the pot, were of equal dimensions? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly it would. you may even reverse the experiment, by pouring water into the spout, and you will find that the water will rise in the pot, to a level with that in the spout; for the pressure of the small quantity of water in the spout, will force up and support, the larger quantity in the pot. in the pressure upwards, as well as that laterally, you see that the force of pressure, depends entirely on the height, and is quite independent of the horizontal dimensions of the fluid. as a tea-pot is not transparent, let us try the experiment by filling this large glass goblet, by means of this narrow tube, (fig. .) _caroline._ look, emily, as mrs. b. fills it, how the water rises in the goblet, to maintain an equilibrium with that in the tube. now, mrs. b., will you let me fill the tube, by pouring water into the goblet? _mrs. b._ that is impossible. however, you may try the experiment, and i doubt not that you will be able to account for its failure. _caroline._ it is very singular, that if so small a column of water as is contained in the tube, can force up and support the whole contents of the goblet; that the weight of all the water in the goblet, should not be able to force up the small quantity required to fill the tube:--oh, i see now the reason, the water in the goblet, cannot force that in the tube above its level, and as the end of the tube, is considerably higher than the goblet, it can never be filled by pouring water into the goblet. _mrs. b._ and if you continue to pour water into the goblet when it is full, the water will run over, instead of rising above its level in the tube. i shall now explain to you the meaning of the _specific gravity_ of bodies. _caroline._ what! is there another species of gravity, with which we are not yet acquainted? _mrs. b._ no: the specific gravity of a body, means simply its weight, compared with that of another body, of the same size. when we say, that substances, such as lead, and stones, are heavy, and that others, such as paper and feathers, are light, we speak comparatively; that is to say, that the first are heavy, and the latter light, in comparison with the generality of substances in nature. would you call wood, and chalk, light or heavy bodies? _caroline._ some kinds of wood are heavy, certainly, as oak and mahogany; others are light, as cedar and poplar. _emily._ i think i should call wood in general, a heavy body; for cedar and poplar, are light, only in comparison to wood of a heavier description. i am at a loss to determine whether chalk should be ranked as a heavy, or a light body; i should be inclined to say the former, if it was not that it is lighter than most other minerals. i perceive that we have but vague notions of light and heavy. i wish there was some standard of comparison, to which we could refer the weight of all other bodies. _mrs. b._ the necessity of such a standard, has been so much felt, that a body has been fixed upon for this purpose. what substance do you think would be best calculated to answer this end? _caroline._ it must be one generally known, and easily obtained; lead or iron, for instance. _mrs. b._ the metals, would not answer the purpose well, for several reasons; they are not always equally compact, and they are rarely quite pure; two pieces of iron, for instance, although of the same size, might not, from the causes mentioned, weigh exactly alike. _caroline._ but, mrs. b., if you compare the weight, of equal quantities of different bodies, they will all be alike. you know the old saying, that a pound of feathers, is as heavy as a pound of lead? _mrs. b._ when therefore we compare the weight of different kinds of bodies, it would be absurd to take quantities of equal _weight_, we must take quantities of equal _bulk_; pints or quarts, not ounces or pounds. _caroline._ very true; i perplexed myself by thinking that quantity referred to weight, rather than to measure. it is true, it would be as absurd to compare bodies of the same size, in order to ascertain which was largest, as to compare bodies of the same weight, in order to discover which was heaviest. _mrs. b._ in estimating the specific gravity of bodies, therefore, we must compare equal bulks, and we shall find that their specific gravity, will be proportional to their weights. the body which has been adopted as a standard of reference, is distilled, or rain water. _emily._ i am surprised that a fluid should have been chosen for this purpose, as it must necessarily be contained in some vessel, and the weight of the vessel, will require to be deducted. _mrs. b._ you will find that the comparison will be more easily made with a fluid, than with a solid; and water you know can be every where obtained. in order to learn the specific gravity of a solid body, it is not necessary to put a certain measure of it in one scale, and an equal measure of water into the other scale: but simply to weigh the body under trial, first in air, and then in water. if you weigh a piece of gold, in a glass of water, will not the gold displace just as much water, as is equal to its own bulk? _caroline._ certainly, where one body is, another cannot be at the same time; so that a sufficient quantity of water must be removed, in order to make way for the gold. _mrs. b._ yes, a cubic inch of water, to make room for a cubic inch of gold; remember that the bulk, alone, is to be considered; the weight, has nothing to do with the quantity of water displaced, for an inch of gold, does not occupy more space, and therefore will not displace more water, than an inch of ivory, or any other substance, that will sink in water. well, you will perhaps be surprised to hear that the gold will weigh less in water, than it did out of it? _emily._ and for what reason? _mrs. b._ on account of the upward pressure of the particles of water, which in some measure supports the gold, and by so doing, diminishes its weight. if the body immersed in water, was of the same weight as that fluid, it would be wholly supported by it, just as the water which it displaces, was supported, previous to its making way for the solid body. if the body is heavier than the water, it cannot be wholly supported by it; but the water will offer some resistance to its descent. _caroline._ and the resistance which water offers to the descent of heavy bodies immersed in it, (since it proceeds from the upward pressure of the particles of the fluid,) must in all cases, i suppose, be the same? _mrs. b._ yes: the resistance of the fluid, is proportioned to the bulk, and not to the weight, of the body immersed in it; all bodies of the same size, therefore, lose the same quantity of their weight in water. can you form any idea what this loss will be? _emily._ i should think it would be equal to the weight of the water displaced; for, since that portion of the water was supported before the immersion of the solid body, an equal weight of the solid body, will be supported. _mrs. b._ you are perfectly right; a body weighed in water, loses just as much of its weight, as is equal to that of the water it displaces; so that if you were to put the water displaced, into the scale to which the body is suspended, it would restore the balance. you must observe, that when you weigh a body in water, in order to ascertain its specific gravity, you must not sink the dish of the balance in the water; but either suspend the body to a hook at the bottom of the dish, or else take off the dish, and suspend to the arm of the balance a weight to counterbalance the other dish, and to this attach the solid to be weighed, (fig. .) now suppose that a cubic inch of gold, weighed ounces out of water, and lost one ounce of its weight by being weighed in water, what would be its specific gravity? _caroline._ the cubic inch of water it displaced, must weigh that one ounce; and as a cubic inch of gold, weighs ounces, gold is times, as heavy as water. _emily._ i recollect having seen a table of the comparative weights of bodies, in which gold appeared to me to be estimated at thousand times, the weight of water. _mrs. b._ you misunderstood the meaning of the table. in the estimation you allude to, the weight of water was reckoned at . you must observe, that the weight of a substance when not compared to that of any other, is perfectly arbitrary; and when water is adopted as a standard, we may denominate its weight by any number we please; but then the weight of all bodies tried by this standard, must be signified by proportional numbers. _caroline._ we may call the weight of water, for example, one, and then that of gold, would be nineteen; or if we choose to call the weight of water , that of gold would be , . in short, specific gravity, means how many times more a body weighs, than an equal bulk of water. _mrs. b._ it is rather the weight of a body compared with a portion of water equal to it in bulk; for the specific gravity of many substances, is less than that of water. _caroline._ then you cannot ascertain the specific gravity of such substances, in the same manner as that of gold; for a body that is lighter than water, will float on its surface, without displacing any of it. _mrs. b._ if a body were absolutely without weight, it is true that it would not displace a drop of water, but the bodies we are treating of, have all some weight, however small; and will, therefore, displace some quantity. if the body be lighter than water, it will not sink to a level with its surface, and therefore it will not displace so much water as is equal to its bulk; but only so much, as is equal to its weight. a ship, you must have observed, sinks to some depth in water, and the heavier it is laden, the deeper it sinks, as it always displaces a quantity of water, equal to its own weight. _caroline._ but you said just now, that in the immersion of gold, the bulk, and not the weight of body, was to be considered. _mrs. b._ that is the case with all substances which are heavier than water; but since those which are lighter, do not displace so much as their own bulk, the quantity they displace is not a test of their specific gravity. in order to obtain the specific gravity of a body which is lighter than water, you must attach to it a heavy one, whose specific gravity is known, and immerse them together; the specific gravity of the lighter body, may then be easily calculated from observing the loss of weight it produces, in the heavy body. _emily._ but are there not some bodies which have exactly the same specific gravity as water? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly; and such bodies will remain at rest in whatever situation they are placed in water. here is a piece of wood which i have procured, because it is of a kind which is precisely the weight of an equal bulk of water; in whatever part of this vessel of water you place it, you will find that it will remain stationary. _caroline._ i shall first put it at the bottom; from thence, of course, it cannot rise, because it is not lighter than water. now i shall place it in the middle of the vessel; it neither rises nor sinks, because it is neither lighter nor heavier than the water. now i will lay it on the surface of the water; but there it sinks a little--what is the reason of that, mrs. b.? _mrs. b._ since it is not lighter than the water, it cannot float upon its surface; since it is not heavier than water, it cannot sink below its surface: it will sink therefore, only till the upper surface of both bodies are on a level, so that the piece of wood is just covered with water. if you poured a few drops of water into the vessel, (so gently as not to give them momentum) they would mix with the water at the surface, and not sink lower. _caroline._ i now understand the reason, why, in drawing up a bucket of water out of a well, the bucket feels so much heavier when it rises above the surface of the water in the well; for whilst you raise it in the water, the water within the bucket being of the same specific gravity as the water on the outside, will be wholly supported by the upward pressure of the water beneath the bucket, and consequently very little force will be required to raise it; but as soon as the bucket rises to the surface of the well, you immediately perceive the increase of weight. _emily._ and how do you ascertain the specific gravity of fluids? _mrs. b._ by means of an hydrometer; this instrument is made of various materials, and in different forms, one of which i will show you. it consists of a thin brass ball a, (fig. , plate .) with a graduated tube b, and the specific gravity of the liquid, is estimated by the depth to which the instrument sinks in it, or by the weight required to sink it to a given depth. there is a small bucket c, suspended at the lower end, and also a little dish on the graduated tube; into either of these, small weights may be put, until the instrument sinks in the fluid, to a mark on the tube b; the amount of weight necessary for this, will enable you to discover the specific gravity of the fluid. i must now take leave of you; but there remain yet many observations to be made on fluids: we shall, therefore, resume this subject at our next interview. questions . (pg. ) what are the two divisions of the science which treats of the mechanical properties of liquids? . (pg. ) of what do hydrostatics and hydraulics treat? . (pg. ) what is a fluid defined to be? . (pg. ) from what is fluidity supposed to arise? . (pg. ) into what two classes are fluids divided? . (pg. ) what is said of the incompressibility of liquids, and what experiment is related? . (pg. ) ought this experiment to be considered as conclusive? . (pg. ) why do fluids appear to gravitate more freely than solids? . (pg. ) when is a fluid said to be in equilibrium? . (pg. ) what is there in the nature of a fluid, which causes it to seek this level? . (pg. ) what circumstances occasion oil to float upon water? . (pg. ) what is the nature and use of the instrument represented in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what difference is there in the gravitation of solid masses, and of fluids? . (pg. ) what results as regards the pressure of fluids? . (pg. ) how is this illustrated by fig. , , plate ? . (pg. ) from what does the lateral pressure proceed? and to what is it proportioned, as exemplified in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) has the extent of the surface of a fluid, any effect upon its pressure downwards? . (pg. ) what will be the difference between the pressure upon the bottom, and upon one side of a cubical vessel? . (pg. ) what occasions the upward pressure, and how is it explained by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how could the equilibrium of fluids be exemplified by pouring water in at the spout of a tea-pot? . (pg. ) how by the apparatus represented at fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is meant by the specific gravity of a body? . (pg. ) what do we in common mean by calling a body heavy, or light? . (pg. ) why would not the metals answer to compare other bodies with? . (pg. ) what must be supposed equal in estimating the specific gravity of a body? . (pg. ) what has been adopted as a standard for comparison? . (pg. ) what is the first step in ascertaining the specific gravity of a solid? . (pg. ) what quantity of water will the solid displace? . (pg. ) why will a solid weigh less in water than in air, and to what will the loss of weight be equal? . (pg. ) what is the arrangement represented by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is stated of gold as an example? . (pg. ) in comparing a body with water, this is sometimes called , what must be observed? . (pg. ) what quantity of water is displaced, by a body floating upon its surface? . (pg. ) how can you find the specific gravity of a solid which is lighter than water? . (pg. ) what is observed of a body whose specific gravity is the same as that of water? . (pg. ) what is the reason that in drawing a bucket of water from a well, its weight is not perceived until it rises above the surface? . (pg. ) describe the instrument represented by fig. , plate , and also how, and for what it is used? conversation xi. of springs, fountains, &c. of the ascent of vapour and the formation of clouds. of the formation and fall of rain, &c. of the formation of springs. of rivers and lakes. of fountains. caroline. there is a question i am very desirous of asking you, respecting fluids, mrs. b., which has often perplexed me. what is the reason that the great quantity of rain which falls upon the earth and sinks into it, does not, in the course of time, injure its solidity? the sun and the wind, i know, dry the surface, but they have no effect on the interior parts, where there must be a prodigious accumulation of moisture. _mrs. b._ do you not know, that, in the course of time, all the water which sinks into the ground, rises out of it again? it is the same water which successively forms seas, rivers, springs, clouds, rain, and sometimes hail, snow and ice. if you will take the trouble of following it through these various changes, you will understand why the earth is not yet drowned, by the quantity of water which has fallen upon it, since its creation; and you will even be convinced, that it does not contain a single drop more water now, than it did at that period. let us consider how the clouds were originally formed. when the first rays of the sun warmed the surface of the earth, the heat, by separating the particles of water, rendered them lighter than the air. this, you know, is the case with steam or vapour. what then ensues? _caroline._ when lighter than the air, it will naturally rise; and now i recollect your telling us in a preceding lesson, that the heat of the sun transformed the particles of water into vapour; in consequence of which, it ascended into the atmosphere, where it formed clouds. _mrs. b._ we have then already followed water through two of its transformations; from water it becomes vapour, and from vapour clouds. _emily._ but since this watery vapour is lighter than the air, why does it not continue to rise; and why does it unite again, to form clouds? _mrs. b._ because the atmosphere diminishes in density, as it is more distant from the earth. the vapour, therefore, which the sun causes to exhale, not only from seas, rivers, and lakes, but likewise from the moisture on the land, rises till it reaches a region of air of its own specific gravity; and there, you know, it will remain stationary. by the frequent accession of fresh vapour, it gradually accumulates, so as to form those large bodies of vapour, which we call clouds: and the particles, at length uniting, become too heavy for the air to support, and fall to the ground. _caroline._ they do fall to the ground, certainly, when it rains; but, according to your theory, i should have imagined, that when the clouds became too heavy, for the region of air in which they were situated, to support them, they would descend, till they reached a stratum of air of their own weight, and not fall to the earth; for as clouds are formed of vapour, they cannot be so heavy as the lowest regions of the atmosphere, otherwise the vapour would not have risen. _mrs. b._ if you examine the manner in which the clouds descend, it will obviate this objection. in falling, several of the watery particles come within the sphere of each other's attraction, and unite in the form of a drop of water. the vapour thus transformed into a shower, is heavier than any part of the atmosphere, and consequently descends to the earth. _caroline._ how wonderfully curious! _mrs. b._ it is impossible to consider any part of nature attentively, without being struck with admiration at the wisdom it displays; and i hope you will never contemplate these wonders, without feeling your heart glow with admiration and gratitude, towards their bounteous author. observe, that if the waters were never drawn out of the earth, all vegetation would be destroyed by the excess of moisture; if, on the other hand, the plants were not nourished and refreshed by occasional showers, the drought would be equally fatal to them. if the clouds constantly remained in a state of vapour, they might, as you remarked, descend into a heavier stratum of the atmosphere, but could never fall to the ground; or were the power of attraction more than sufficient to convert the vapour into drops, it would transform the cloud into a mass of water, which, instead of nourishing, would destroy the produce of the earth. water then ascends in the form of vapour, and descends in that of rain, snow, or hail, all of which ultimately become water. some of this falls into the various bodies of water on the surface of the globe, the remainder upon the land. of the latter, part reascends in the form of vapour, part is absorbed by the roots of vegetables, and part descends into the earth, where it forms springs. _emily._ is there then no difference between rain water, and spring water? _mrs. b._ they are originally the same; but that portion of rain water which goes to supply springs, dissolves a number of foreign particles, which it meets with in its passage through the various soils it traverses. _caroline._ yet spring water is more pleasant to the taste, appears more transparent, and, i should have supposed, would have been more pure than rain water. _mrs. b._ no; excepting distilled water, rain water is the most pure we can obtain; it is its purity which renders it insipid; whilst the various salts and different ingredients, dissolved in spring water, give it a species of flavour, which habit renders agreeable; these salts do not, in any degree, affect its transparency; and the filtration it undergoes, through gravel and sand, cleanses it from all foreign matter, which it has not the power of dissolving. _emily._ how is it that the rain water does not continue to descend by its gravity, instead of collecting together, and forming springs? _mrs. b._ when rain falls on the surface of the earth, it continues making its way downwards through the pores and crevices in the ground. when several drops meet in their subterraneous passage, they unite and form a little rivulet; this, in its progress, meets with other rivulets of a similar description, and they pursue their course together within the earth, till they are stopped by some substance, such as rock, or clay, which they cannot penetrate. _caroline._ but you say that there is some reason to believe that water can penetrate even the pores of gold, and it cannot meet with a substance more dense? _mrs. b._ but if water penetrate the pores of gold, it is only when under a strong compressive force, as in the florentine experiment; now in its passage towards the centre of the earth, it is acted upon by no other power than gravity, which is not sufficient to make it force its way, even through a stratum of clay. this species of earth, though not remarkably dense, being of great tenacity, will not admit the particles of water to pass. when water encounters any substance of this nature, therefore, its progress is stopped, and it is diffused through the porous earth, and sometimes the pressure of the accumulating waters, forms a bed, or reservoir. this will be more clearly explained by fig. , plate , which represents a section, of the interior of a hill or mountain. a, is a body of water, such as i have described, which, when filled up as high as b, (by the continual accession of water it receives from the ducts or rivulets _a_, _a_, _a_, _a_,) finds a passage out of the cavity, and, impelled by gravity, it runs on, till it makes its way out of the ground at the side of the hill, and there forms a spring, c. _caroline._ gravity impels downwards towards the centre of the earth; and the spring in this figure runs in an horizontal direction. _mrs. b._ not entirely. there is some declivity from the reservoir, to the spot where the water issues out of the ground; and gravity, you know, will bring bodies down an inclined plane, as well as in a perpendicular direction. _caroline._ but though the spring may descend, on first issuing, it must afterwards rise to reach the surface of the earth; and that is in direct opposition to gravity. _mrs. b._ a spring can never rise above the level of the reservoir whence it issues; it must, therefore, find a passage to some part of the surface of the earth, that is lower, or nearer the centre, than the reservoir. it is true that, in this figure, the spring rises in its passage from b to c; but this, i think, with a little reflection, you will be able to account for. _emily._ oh, yes; it is owing to the pressure of fluids upwards; and the water rises in the duct, upon the same principle as it rises in the spout of a tea-pot; that is to say, in order to preserve an equilibrium with the water in the reservoir. now i think i understand the nature of springs: the water will flow through a duct, whether ascending or descending, provided it never rises higher than the reservoir. _mrs. b._ water may thus be conveyed to every part of a town, and to the upper part of the houses, if it is originally brought from a height, superior to any to which it is conveyed. have you never observed, when the pavements of the streets have been mending, the pipes which serve as ducts for the conveyance of the water through the town? _emily._ yes, frequently; and i have remarked that when any of these pipes have been opened, the water rushes upwards from them, with great velocity; which, i suppose, proceeds from the pressure of the water in the reservoir, which forces it out. _caroline._ i recollect having once seen a very curious glass, called tantalus's cup; it consists of a goblet, containing a small figure of a man, and whatever quantity of water you pour into the goblet, it never rises higher than the breast of the figure. do you know how that is contrived? _mrs. b._ it is by means of a syphon, or bent tube, which is concealed in the body of the figure. this tube rises through one of the legs, as high as the breast, and there turning, descends through the other leg, and from thence through the foot of the goblet, where the water runs out. (fig. , plate .) when you pour water into the glass a, it must rise in the syphon b, in proportion as it rises in the glass; and when the glass is filled to a level with the upper part of the syphon, the water will run out through the other leg of the figure, and will continue running out, as fast as you pour it in; therefore the glass can never fill any higher. _emily._ i think the new well that has been made at our country-house, must be of that nature. we had a great scarcity of water, and my father has been at considerable expense to dig a well; after penetrating to a great depth, before water could be found, a spring was at length discovered, but the water rose only a few feet above the bottom of the well; and sometimes it is quite dry. [illustration: plate xiv.] _mrs. b._ this has, however, no analogy to tantalus's cup; but is owing to the very elevated situation of your country-house. _emily._ i believe i guess the reason. there cannot be a reservoir of water near the summit of a hill; as in such a situation, there will not be a sufficient number of rivulets formed, to supply one; and without a reservoir, there can be no spring. in such situations, therefore, it is necessary to dig very deep, in order to meet with a spring; and when we give it vent, it can rise only as high as the reservoir from whence it flows, which will be but little, as the reservoir must be situated at some considerable depth below the summit of the hill. _caroline._ your explanation appears very clear and satisfactory; but i can contradict it from experience. at the very top of a hill, near our country-house, there is a large pond, and, according to your theory, it would be impossible there should be springs in such a situation to supply it with water. then you know that i have crossed the alps, and i can assure you, that there is a fine lake on the summit of mount cenis, the highest mountain we passed over. _mrs. b._ were there a lake on the summit of mount blanc, which is the highest of the alps, it would indeed be wonderful. but that on mount cenis, is not at all contradictory to our theory of springs; for this mountain is surrounded by others, much more elevated, and the springs which feed the lake must descend from reservoirs of water, formed in those mountains. this must also be the case with the pond on the top of the hill; there is doubtless some more considerable hill in the neighbourhood, which supplies it with water. _emily._ i comprehend perfectly, why the water in our well never rises high: but i do not understand why it should occasionally be dry. _mrs. b._ because the reservoir from which it flows, being in an elevated situation, is but scantily supplied with water; after a long drought, therefore, it may be drained, and the spring dry, till the reservoir be replenished by fresh rains. it is not uncommon to see springs flow with great violence in wet seasons, which at other times, are perfectly dry. _caroline._ but there is a spring in our grounds, which more frequently flows in dry, than in wet weather; how is that to be accounted for? _mrs. b._ the spring, probably, comes from a reservoir at a great distance, and situated very deep in the ground: it is, therefore, some length of time before the rain reaches the reservoir; and another considerable portion must elapse, whilst the water is making its way, from the reservoir, to the surface of the earth; so that the dry weather may probably have succeeded the rains, before the spring begins to flow; and the reservoir may be exhausted, by the time the wet weather sets in again. _caroline._ i doubt not but this is the case, as the spring is in a very low situation, therefore, the reservoir may be at a great distance from it. _mrs. b._ springs which do not constantly flow, are called intermitting, and are occasioned by the reservoir being imperfectly supplied. independently of the situation, this is always the case, when the duct, or ducts, which convey the water into the reservoir, are smaller than those which carry it off. _caroline._ if it runs out, faster than it runs in, it will of course sometimes be empty. do not rivers also, derive their source from springs? _mrs. b._ yes, they generally take their source in mountainous countries, where springs are most abundant. _caroline._ i understood you that springs were more rare, in elevated situations. _mrs. b._ you do not consider that mountainous countries, abound equally with high, and low situations. reservoirs of water, which are formed in the bosoms of mountains, generally find a vent, either on their declivity, or in the valley beneath; while subterraneous reservoirs, formed in a plain, can seldom find a passage to the surface of the earth, but remain concealed, unless discovered by digging a well. when a spring once issues at the surface of the earth, it continues its course externally, seeking always a lower ground, for it can no longer rise. _emily._ then what is the consequence, if the spring, or, as i should now rather call it, the rivulet, runs into a situation, which is surrounded by higher ground? _mrs. b._ its course is stopped; the water accumulates, and it forms a pool, pond, or lake, according to the dimensions of the body of water. the lake of geneva, in all probability, owes its origin to the rhone, which passes through it: if, when the river first entered the valley, which now forms the bed of the lake, it found itself surrounded by higher grounds, its waters would there accumulate, till they rose to a level with that part of the valley, where the rhone now continues its course beyond the lake, and from whence it flows through valleys, occasionally forming other small lakes, till it reaches the sea. _emily._ and are not fountains, of the nature of springs? _mrs. b._ exactly. a fountain is conducted perpendicularly upwards, by the spout or adjutage a, through which it flows; and it will rise nearly as high as the reservoir b, from whence it proceeds. (plate . fig. .) _caroline._ why not quite as high? _mrs. b._ because it meets with resistance from the air, in its ascent; and its motion is impeded by friction against the spout, where it rushes out. _emily._ but if the tube through which the water rises be smooth, can there be any friction? especially with a fluid, whose particles yield to the slightest impression. _mrs. b._ friction, (as we observed in a former lesson,) may be diminished by polishing, but can never be entirely destroyed; and though fluids, are less susceptible of friction, than solid bodies, they are still affected by it. another reason why a fountain will not rise so high as its reservoir, is, that as all the water which spouts up, has to descend again, it in doing so, presses, or strikes against the under parts, and forces them sideways, spreading the column into a head, and rendering it both wider, and shorter, than it otherwise would be. at our next meeting, we shall examine the mechanical properties of the air, which being an elastic fluid, differs in many respects, from liquids. questions . (pg. ) why do not the frequent rains, fill the earth with water? . (pg. ) why will vapour rise? to what height will it ascend, and what will it form? . (pg. ) how may drops of rain be formed? . (pg. ) what becomes of the water after it has fallen to the earth? . (pg. ) what is the difference between rain water, and that from springs? . (pg. ) why is rain more pure than spring water? . (pg. ) why is spring water more agreeable to the palate? . (pg. ) what causes the water to collect and form springs? . (pg. ) why cannot water penetrate through clay? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how can you account for its rising upwards, as represented at c? . (pg. ) in conveying water by means of pipes, how must the reservoir be situated? . (pg. ) what is the instrument called, which is represented in plate , fig. ,--and how does it operate? . (pg. ) why are wells rarely well supplied with water, in elevated situations? . (pg. ) when water is found in elevated situations, whence is it supplied? . (pg. ) wells and springs, at some periods well supplied, fail at others; how is this accounted for? . (pg. ) some springs flow abundantly in dry weather, which occasionally fail in wet weather, how may this be explained? . (pg. ) what is meant by intermitting springs? . (pg. ) whence do rivers, in general, derive their water? . (pg. ) why do springs abound more in mountainous, than in level countries? . (pg. ) how are lakes formed? . (pg. ) what causes water to rise in fountains, and how is this explained by figure , plate ? . (pg. ) why will not the fountain rise to the height of the water in the reservoir? conversation xii. on the mechanical properties of air. of the spring or elasticity of the air. of the weight of the air. experiments with the air pump. of the barometer. mode of weighing air. specific gravity of air. of pumps. description of the sucking pump. description of the forcing pump. mrs. b. at our last meeting we examined the properties of fluids in general, and more particularly of such as are called non-elastic fluids, or liquids. there is another class of fluids, distinguished by the name of æriform, or elastic fluids, the principal of which is the air we breathe, which surrounds the earth, and is called the atmosphere. _emily._ there are then other kinds of air, besides the atmosphere? _mrs. b._ yes; a great variety; but they differ only in their chemical, and not in their mechanical properties; and as it is the latter we are to examine, we shall not at present inquire into their composition, but confine our attention to the mechanical properties of elastic fluids in general. _caroline._ and from whence arises this difference, between elastic, and non-elastic fluids? _mrs. b._ there is no attraction of cohesion, between the particles of elastic fluids; so that the expansive power of heat, has no adversary to contend with, but gravity; any increase of temperature, therefore, expands elastic fluids considerably, and a diminution, proportionally condenses them. the most essential point, in which air, differs from other fluids is in its spring or elasticity; that is to say, its power of increasing, or diminishing in bulk, accordingly as it is more, or less, compressed: a power of which i have informed you, liquids are almost wholly deprived. _emily._ i think i understand the elasticity of the air very well from what you formerly said of it; but what perplexes me is, its having gravity; if it is heavy, and we are surrounded by it, why do we not feel its weight? _caroline._ it must be impossible to be sensible of the weight of such infinitely small particles, as those of which the air is composed: particles which are too small to be seen, must be too light to be felt. _mrs. b._ you are mistaken, my dear; the air is much heavier than you imagine; it is true, that the particles which compose it, are small; but then, reflect on their quantity: the atmosphere extends in height, a great number of miles from the earth, and its gravity is such, that a man of middling stature, is computed (when the air is heaviest) to sustain the weight of about tons. _caroline._ is it possible! i should have thought such a weight would have crushed any one to atoms. _mrs. b._ that would, indeed, be the case, if it were not for the equality of the pressure, on every part of the body; but when thus diffused, we can bear even a much greater weight, without any considerable inconvenience. in bathing we support the weight and pressure of the water, in addition to that of the atmosphere; but because this pressure is equally distributed over the body, we are scarcely sensible of it; whilst if your shoulders, your head, or any particular part of your frame, were loaded with the additional weight of a hundred pounds, you would soon sink under the fatigue. besides this, our bodies contain air, the spring of which, counterbalances the weight of the external air, and renders us insensible of its pressure. _caroline._ but if it were possible to relieve me from the weight of the atmosphere, should i not feel more light and agile? _mrs. b._ on the contrary, the air within you, meeting with no external pressure to restrain its elasticity, would distend your body, and at length bursting some of the parts which confined it, put a period to your existence. _caroline._ this weight of the atmosphere, then, which i was so apprehensive would crush me, is, in reality, essential to my preservation. _emily._ i once saw a person cupped, and was told that the swelling of the part under the cup, was produced by taking away from that part, the pressure of the atmosphere; but i could not understand how this pressure produced such an effect. _mrs. b._ the air pump affords us the means of making a great variety of interesting experiments, on the weight, and pressure of the air: some of them you have already seen. do you not recollect, that in a vacuum produced within the air pump, substances of various weights, fell to the bottom in the same time; why does not this happen in the atmosphere? _caroline._ i remember you told us it was owing to the resistance which light bodies meet with, from the air, during their fall. _mrs. b._ or, in other words, to the support which they received from the air, and which prolonged the time of their fall. now, if the air were destitute of weight, how could it support other bodies, or retard their fall? i shall now show you some other experiments, which illustrate, in a striking manner, both the weight, and elasticity of air. i shall tie a piece of bladder over this glass receiver, which, you will observe, is open at the top as well as below. _caroline._ why do you wet the bladder first? _mrs. b._ it expands by wetting, and contracts in drying; it is also more soft and pliable when wet, so that i can make it fit better, and when dry, it will be tighter. we must hold it to the fire in order to dry it; but not too near, lest it should burst by sudden contraction. let us now fix it on the air pump, and exhaust the air from underneath it--you will not be alarmed if you hear a noise? _emily._ it was as loud as the report of a gun, and the bladder is burst! pray explain how the air is concerned in this experiment. _mrs. b._ it is the effect of the weight of the atmosphere, on the upper surface of the bladder, when i had taken away the air from the under surface, so that there was no longer any reaction to counterbalance the pressure of the atmosphere, on the receiver. you observed how the bladder was pressed inwards, by the weight of the external air, in proportion as i exhausted the receiver: and before a complete vacuum was formed, the bladder, unable to sustain the violence of the pressure, burst with the explosion you have just heard. i shall now show you an experiment, which proves the expansion of the air, contained within a body, when it is relieved from the pressure of the external air. you would not imagine that there was any air contained within this shrivelled apple, by its appearance; but take notice of it when placed within a receiver, from which i shall exhaust the air. _caroline._ how strange! it grows quite plump, and looks like a fresh-gathered apple. _mrs. b._ but as soon as i let the air again into the receiver, the apple, you see, returns to its shrivelled state. when i took away the pressure of the atmosphere, the air within the apple, expanded, and swelled it out; but the instant the atmospheric air was restored, the expansion of the internal air, was checked and repressed, and the apple shrunk to its former dimensions. you may make a similar experiment with this little bladder, which you see is perfectly flaccid, and appears to contain no air: in this state i shall tie up the neck of the bladder, so that whatever air remains within it, may not escape, and then place it under the receiver. now observe, as i exhaust the receiver, how the bladder distends; this proceeds from the great dilatation of the small quantity of air, which was enclosed within the bladder, when i tied it up; but as soon as i let the air into the receiver, that which the bladder contains, condenses and shrinks into its small compass, within the folds of the bladder. _emily._ these experiments are extremely amusing, and they afford clear proofs, both of the weight, and elasticity of the air; but i should like to know, exactly, how much the air weighs. _mrs. b._ a column of air reaching to the top of the atmosphere, and whose base is a square inch, weighs about lbs. therefore, every square inch of our bodies, sustains a weight of lbs.: and if you wish to know the weight of the whole of the atmosphere, you must reckon how many square inches there are on the surface of the globe, and multiply them by . _emily._ but can we not ascertain the weight of a small quantity of air? _mrs. b._ with perfect ease. i shall exhaust the air from this little bottle, by means of the air pump: and having emptied the bottle of air, or, in other words, produced a vacuum within it, i secure it by turning this screw adapted to its neck: we may now find the exact weight of this bottle, by putting it into one of the scales of a balance. it weighs, you see, just two ounces; but when i turn the screw, so as to admit the air into the bottle, the scale which contains it, preponderates. _caroline._ no doubt the bottle filled with air, is heavier than the bottle void of air; and the additional weight required to bring the scales again to a balance, must be exactly that of the air which the bottle now contains. _mrs. b._ that weight, you see, is almost two grains. the dimensions of this bottle, are six cubic inches. six cubic inches of air, therefore, at the temperature of this room, weighs nearly grains. _caroline._ why do you observe the temperature of the room, in estimating the weight of the air? _mrs. b._ because heat rarefies air, and renders it lighter; therefore the warmer the air is, which you weigh, the lighter it will be. if you should now be desirous of knowing the specific gravity of this air, we need only fill the same bottle, with water, and thus obtain the weight of an equal quantity of water--which you see is grs.; now by comparing the weight of water, to that of air, we find it to be in the proportion of about to . as you are acquainted with decimal arithmetic, you will understand what i mean, when i tell you, that water being called , the specific gravity of air, will be . . i will show you another instance, of the weight of the atmosphere, which i think will please you: you know what a barometer is? _caroline._ it is an instrument which indicates the state of the weather, by means of a tube of quicksilver; but how, i cannot exactly say. _mrs. b._ it is by showing the weight of the atmosphere, which has great influence on the weather. the barometer, is an instrument extremely simple in its construction. in order that you may understand it, i will show you how it is made. i first fill with mercury, a glass tube a b, (fig. , plate .) about three feet in length, and open only at one end; then stopping the open end, with my finger, i immerse it in a cup c, containing a little mercury. _emily._ part of the mercury which was in the tube, i observe, runs down into the cup; but why does not the whole of it subside, for it is contrary to the law of the equilibrium of fluids, that the mercury in the tube, should not descend to a level with that in the cup? _mrs. b._ the mercury that has fallen from the tube, into the cup, has left a vacant space in the upper part of the tube, to which the air cannot gain access; this space is therefore a perfect vacuum; the mercury in the tube, is relieved from the pressure of the atmosphere, whilst that in the cup, remains exposed to it. _caroline._ oh, now i understand it; the pressure of the air on the mercury in the cup, forces it to rise in the tube, where there is not any air to counteract the external pressure. _emily._ or rather supports the mercury in the tube, and prevents it from falling. _mrs. b._ that comes to the same thing; for the power that can support mercury in a vacuum, would also make it ascend, when it met with a vacuum. thus you see, that the equilibrium of the mercury is destroyed, only to preserve the general equilibrium of fluids. _caroline._ but this simple apparatus is, in appearance, very unlike a barometer. _mrs. b._ it is all that is essential to a barometer. the tube and the cup, or a cistern of mercury, are fixed on a board, for the convenience of suspending it; the brass plate on the upper part of the board, is graduated into inches, and tenths of inches, for the purpose of ascertaining the height at which the mercury stands in the tube; and the small moveable metal plate, serves to show that height, with greater accuracy. _emily._ and at what height, will the weight of the atmosphere sustain the mercury? _mrs. b._ about or inches, as you will see by this barometer; but it depends upon the weight of the atmosphere, which varies much, in different states of the weather. the greater the pressure of the air on the mercury in the cup, the higher it will ascend in the tube. now can you tell me whether the air is heavier, in wet, or in dry weather? _caroline._ without a moment's reflection, the air must be heaviest in wet weather. it is so depressing, and makes one feel so heavy, while in fine weather, i feel as light as a feather, and as brisk as a bee. _mrs. b._ would it not have been better to have answered with a moment's reflection, caroline? it would have convinced you, that the air must be heaviest in dry weather; for it is then, that the mercury is found to rise in the tube, and consequently, the mercury in the cup, must be most pressed by the air. _caroline._ why then does the air feel so heavy, in bad weather? _mrs. b._ because it is less salubrious, when impregnated with damp. the lungs, under these circumstances, do not play so freely, nor does the blood circulate so well; thus obstructions are frequently occasioned in the smaller vessels, from which arise colds, asthmas, agues, fevers, &c. _emily._ since the atmosphere diminishes in density, in the upper regions, is not the air more rare, upon a hill, than in a plain; and does the barometer indicate this difference? _mrs. b._ certainly. this instrument, is so exact in its indications, that it is used for the purpose of measuring the height of mountains, and of estimating the elevation of balloons; the mercury descending in the tube, as you ascend to a greater height. _emily._ and is no inconvenience experienced, from the thinness of the air, in such elevated situations? _mrs. b._ oh, yes; frequently. it is sometimes oppressive, from being insufficient for respiration; and the expansion which takes place, in the more dense air contained within the body, is often painful: it occasions distention, and sometimes causes the bursting of the smaller blood-vessels, in the nose, and ears. besides in such situations, you are more exposed, both to heat, and cold; for though the atmosphere is itself transparent, its lower regions, abound with vapours, and exhalations, from the earth, which float in it, and act in some degree as a covering, which preserves us equally from the intensity of the sun's rays, and from the severity of the cold. _caroline._ pray, mrs. b., is not the thermometer constructed on the same principles as the barometer? _mrs. b._ not at all. the rise and fall of the fluid in the thermometer, is occasioned by the expansive power of heat, and the condensation produced by cold: the air has no access to it. an explanation of it would, therefore, be irrelevant to our present subject. _emily._ i have been reflecting, that since it is the weight of the atmosphere, which supports the mercury, in the tube of a barometer, it would support a column of any other fluid, in the same manner. _mrs. b._ certainly; but as mercury, is heavier than all other fluids, it will support a higher column, of any other fluid; for two fluids are in equilibrium, when their height varies, inversely as their densities. we find the weight of the atmosphere, is equal to sustaining a column of water, for instance, of no less than feet above its level. _caroline._ the weight of the atmosphere, is then, as great as that of a body of water of feet in height. _mrs. b._ precisely; for a column of air, of the height of the atmosphere, is equal to a column of water of about feet, or one of mercury, of from to inches. the common pump, is dependent on this principle. by the act of pumping, the pressure of the atmosphere is taken off the water, which, in consequence, rises. the body of a pump, consists of a large tube or pipe, whose lower end is immersed in the water which it is designed to raise. a kind of stopper, called a piston, is fitted to this tube, and is made to slide up and down it, by means of a metallic rod, fastened to the centre of the piston. _emily._ is it not similar to the syringe, or squirt, with which you first draw in, and then force out water? _mrs. b._ it is; but you know that we do not wish to force the water out of the pump, at the same end of the pipe, at which we draw it in. the intention of a pump, is to raise water from a spring, or well; the pipe is, therefore, placed perpendicularly over the water, which enters it at the lower extremity, and it issues at a horizontal spout, towards the upper part of the pump; to effect this, there are, besides the piston, two contrivances called valves. the pump, therefore, is rather a more complicated piece of machinery, than the syringe. _caroline._ pray, mrs. b., is not the leather, which covers the opening, in the lower board of a pair of bellows, a kind of valve? _mrs. b._ it is, valves are made in various forms; any contrivance, which allows a fluid to pass in one direction, and prevents its return, is called a valve; that of the bellows, and of the common pump, resemble each other, exactly. you can now, i think, understand the structure of the pump. its various parts, are delineated in this figure: (fig. . plate .) a b is the pipe, or body of the pump, p the piston, v a valve, or little door in the piston, which, opening upwards, admits the water to rise through it, but prevents its returning, and y, is a similar valve, placed lower down in the body of the pump; h is the handle, which in this model, serves to work the piston. when the pump is in a state of inaction, the two valves are closed by their own weight; but when, by working the handle of the pump, the piston ascends; it raises a column of air which rested upon it, and produces a vacuum, between the piston, and the lower valve y; the air beneath this valve, which is immediately over the surface of the water, consequently expands, and forces its way through it; the water, then, relieved from the pressure of the air, ascends into the pump. a few strokes of the handle, totally excludes the air from the body of the pump, and fills it with water, which, having passed through both the valves, runs out at the spout. _caroline._ i understand this perfectly. when the piston is elevated, the air, and the water, successively rise in the pump, for the same reason as the mercury, rises in the barometer. _emily._ i thought that water was drawn up into a pump, by suction, in the same manner as water may be sucked through a straw. _mrs. b._ it is so, into the body of the pump; for the power of suction, is no other than that of producing a vacuum over one part of the liquid, into which vacuum the liquid is forced, by the pressure of the atmosphere, on another part. the action of sucking through a straw, consists in drawing in, and confining the breath, so as to produce a vacuum in the mouth; in consequence of which, the air within the straw, rushes into the mouth, and is followed by the liquid, into which, the lower end of the straw, is immersed. the principle, you see, is the same, and the only difference consists in the mode of producing a vacuum. in suction, the muscular powers answer the purpose of the piston and valve. _emily._ water cannot, then, be raised by a pump, above feet; for the pressure of the atmosphere will not sustain a column of water, above that height. _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon. it is true that there must never be so great a distance as feet, from the level of the water in the well, to the valve in the piston, otherwise the water would not rise through that valve; but when once the water has passed that opening, it is no longer the pressure of air on the reservoir, which makes it ascend; it is raised by lifting it up, as you would raise it in a bucket, of which the piston formed the bottom. this common pump is, therefore, called the sucking, or lifting pump, as it is constructed on both these principles. the rod to which the piston is attached, must be made sufficiently long, to allow the piston to be within feet of the surface of the water in the well, however deep it may be. there is another sort of pump, called the forcing pump: it consists of a forcing power, added to the sucking part of the pump. this additional power, is exactly on the principle of the syringe: by raising the piston, you draw the water into the pump, and by causing it to descend, you force the water out. _caroline._ but the water must be forced out at the upper part of the pump; and i cannot conceive how that can be done by the descent of the piston. _mrs. b._ figure , plate , will explain the difficulty. the large pipe, a b, represents the sucking part of the pump, which differs from the lifting pump, only in its piston p, being unfurnished with a valve, in consequence of which the water cannot rise above it. when, therefore, the piston descends, it shuts the valve y, and forces the water (which has no other vent) into the pipe d: this is likewise furnished with a valve v, which, opening upwards, admits the water to pass, but prevents its return. the water, is thus first raised in the pump, and then forced into the pipe, by the alternate ascending, and descending motion of the piston, after a few strokes of the handle to fill the pipe, from whence the water issues at the spout. _emily._ does not the air pump, which you used in the experiments, on pneumatics, operate upon the same principles as the sucking pump? _mrs. b._ exactly. the air pump which i used (plate , fig. ,) has two hollow, brass cylinders, called barrels, which are made perfectly true. in each of those barrels, there is a piston; these are worked up, and down, by the same handle; the pistons, are furnished with valves, opening upwards, like those of the common pump: there are valves also, placed at the lower part of each barrel, which open upwards; there are therefore two pumps, united to produce the same effect: two tubes, connect these barrels with the plate, upon which i placed the receivers, which were to be exhausted. _emily._ i now understand how the air pump acts; the receiver contains air, which is exhausted, just as it is by the common pump, before the water begins to rise. _mrs. b._ having explained the mechanical properties of air, i think it is now time to conclude our lesson. when next we meet, i shall give you some account of wind, and of sound, which will terminate our observations on elastic fluids. _caroline._ and i shall run into the garden, to have the pleasure of pumping, now that i understand the construction of a pump. _mrs. b._ and, to-morrow, i hope you will be able to tell me, whether it is a forcing, or a common lifting pump. questions . (pg. ) into what two kinds are fluids divided? . (pg. ) there are different kinds of elastic fluids, in what properties are they alike, and in what do they differ? . (pg. ) in what particular do elastic, differ from non-elastic, fluids? . (pg. ) what is meant by the elasticity of air? . (pg. ) what is said respecting the weight of the atmosphere? . (pg. ) why do we not feel the pressure of the air? . (pg. ) what would be the effect of relieving us from atmospheric pressure? . (pg. ) how may the weight of the air be shown by the aid of the air pump, and a piece of bladder? . (pg. ) how is this explained? . (pg. ) how may its elasticity be exhibited, by an apple, and by a bladder? . (pg. ) what is the absolute weight of a given column of atmospheric air, and how could its whole pressure upon the earth be ascertained? . (pg. ) how can the weight of a small bulk of air be found? . (pg. ) in ascertaining the weight of air, we take account of its temperature--why? . (pg. ) how could you ascertain the specific gravity of air, and what would it be? . (pg. ) what are the essential parts of a barometer, as represented plate , fig. ? . (pg. ) what sustains the mercury in the tube? . (pg. ) of what use are the divisions in the upper part of the instrument? . (pg. ) to what height will the mercury rise, and what occasions this height to vary? . (pg. ) when is the mercury highest, in wet, or in dry weather? . (pg. ) what occasions the sensation of oppression, in damp weather? . (pg. ) why will the barometer indicate the height of mountains, or of balloons? . (pg. ) is any inconvenience experienced by persons ascending to great heights, and from what cause? . (pg. ) what occasions the rise and fall of the mercury, in a thermometer? . (pg. ) to what height will the pressure of the atmosphere raise a column of water? . (pg. ) what governs the difference between the height of the mercury, and of the water? . (pg. ) how does the common pump, raise water from a well? . (pg. ) what is meant by a piston? . (pg. ) describe the construction, and use, of a valve. . (pg. ) what are the parts of the pump, as represented, fig. , plate .? . (pg. ) how do these parts act, in raising the water? . (pg. ) in what does that which is commonly called suction, consist? . (pg. ) how must the piston be situated in the pump? . (pg. ) what other kind of pump is described? . (pg. ) how is the forcing pump constructed, as shown in plate , fig. ? . (pg. ) describe the construction and operation of the air pump, (fig. , plate .) conversation xiii. on wind and sound. of wind in general. of the trade-wind. of the periodical trade-winds. of the aerial tides. of sounds in general. of sonorous bodies. of musical sounds. of concord or harmony, and melody. mrs. b. well, caroline, have you ascertained what kind of pump you have in your garden? _caroline._ i think it must be merely a lifting pump, because no more force is required to raise the handle than is necessary to lift its weight; and as in a forcing pump, by raising the handle, you force the water into the smaller pipe, the resistance the water offers, must require an exertion of strength, to overcome it. _mrs. b._ i make no doubt you are right; for lifting pumps, being simple in their construction, are by far the most common. i have promised to-day to give you some account of the nature of wind. wind is nothing more than the motion of a stream, or current of air, generally produced by a partial change of temperature in the atmosphere; for when any one part is more heated than the rest, that part is rarefied, the air in consequence rises, and the equilibrium is destroyed. when this happens, there necessarily follows a motion of the surrounding air towards that part, in order to restore it; this spot, therefore, receives winds from every quarter. those who live to the north of it, experience a north wind; those to the south, a south wind:--do you comprehend this? _caroline._ perfectly. but what sort of weather must those people have, who live on the spot, where these winds meet and interfere? _mrs. b._ they have most commonly turbulent and boisterous weather, whirlwinds, hurricanes, rain, lightning, thunder, &c. this stormy weather occurs most frequently in the torrid zone, where the heat is greatest: the air being more rarefied there, than in any other part of the globe, is lighter, and consequently, ascends; whilst the air from the north and south, is continually flowing in, to restore the equilibrium. _caroline._ this motion of the air, would produce a regular and constant north wind, to the inhabitants of the northern hemisphere; and a south wind, to those of the southern hemisphere, and continual storms at the equator, where these two adverse winds would meet. _mrs. b._ these winds do not meet, for they each change their direction before they reach the equator. the sun, in moving over the equatorial regions from east to west, rarefies the air as it passes, and causes the denser eastern air to flow westwards, in order to restore the equilibrium, thus producing a regular east wind, about the equator. _caroline._ the air from the west, then, constantly goes to meet the sun, and repair the disturbance which his beams have produced in the equilibrium of the atmosphere. but i wonder how you will reconcile these various winds, mrs. b.; you first led me to suppose there was a constant struggle between opposite winds at the equator, producing storm and tempest; but now i hear of one regular invariable wind, which must naturally be attended by calm weather. _emily._ i think i comprehend it: do not these winds from the north and south, combine with the easterly wind about the equator, and form, what are called, the trade-winds? _mrs. b._ just so, my dear. the composition of the two winds, north and east, produces a constant north-east wind; and that of the two winds, south and east, produces a regular south-east wind; these winds extend to about thirty degrees on each side of the equator, the regions further distant from it, experiencing only their respective northerly and southerly winds. _caroline._ but, mrs. b., if the air is constantly flowing from the poles, to the torrid zone, there must be a deficiency of air, in the polar regions? _mrs. b._ the light air about the equator, which expands, and rises into the upper regions of the atmosphere, ultimately flows from thence, back to the poles, to restore the equilibrium: if it were not for this resource, the polar, atmospheric regions, would soon be exhausted by the stream of air, which, in the lower strata of the atmosphere, they are constantly sending towards the equator. _caroline._ there is then a sort of circulation of air in the atmosphere; the air in the lower strata, flowing from the poles towards the equator, and in the upper strata, flowing back from the equator, towards the poles. _mrs. b._ exactly; i can show you an example of this circulation, on a smaller scale. the air of this room, being more rarefied, than the external air, a wind or current of air is pouring in from the crevices of the windows and doors, to restore the equilibrium; but the light air, with which the room is filled, must find some vent, in order to make way for the heavy air that enters. if you set the door a-jar, and hold a candle near the upper part of it, you will find that the flame will be blown outwards, showing that there is a current of air flowing out from the upper part of the room.--now place the candle on the floor, close by the door, and you will perceive, by the inclination of the flame, that there is also a current of air, setting into the room. _caroline._ it is just so; the upper current is the warm light air, which is driven out to make way for the stream of cold dense air, which enters the room lower down. _mrs. b._ besides the general, or trade-winds, there are others, which are called periodical, because they blow in contrary directions, at particular periods. _emily._ i have heard, mrs. b., that the periodical winds, called, in the torrid zone, the sea and land breezes, blow towards the land, in the day time, and towards the sea, at night: what is the reason of that? _mrs. b._ the land reflects into the atmosphere, a much greater quantity of the sun's rays, than the water; therefore, that part of the atmosphere which is over the land, is more heated and rarefied, than that which is over the sea: this occasions the wind to set in upon the land, as we find that it regularly does on the coast of guinea, and other countries in the torrid zone. there, they have only the sea breeze, but on the islands, they have, in general, both a land and sea breeze, the latter being produced in the way described; whilst at night, during the absence of the sun, the earth cools, and the air is consequently condensed, and flows from the land, towards the sea, occasioning the land breeze. _emily._ i have heard much of the violent tempests, occasioned by the breaking up of the monsoons; are not they also regular trade-winds? _mrs. b._ they are called periodical trade-winds, as they change their course every half year. this variation is produced by the earth's annual course round the sun; the north pole being inclined towards that luminary one half of the year, the south pole, the other half. during the summer of the northern hemisphere, the countries of arabia, persia, india, and china, are much heated, and reflect great quantities of the sun's rays into the atmosphere, by which it becomes extremely rarefied, and the equilibrium consequently destroyed. in order to restore it, the air from the equatorial southern regions, where it is colder, (as well as from the colder northern parts,) must necessarily have a motion towards those parts. the current of air from the equatorial regions, produces the trade-winds for the first six months, in all the seas between the heated continent of asia, and the equator. the other six months, when it is summer in the southern hemisphere, the ocean and countries towards the southern tropic are most heated, and the air over those parts, more rarefied: then the air about the equator alters its course, and flows exactly in an opposite direction. _caroline._ this explanation of the monsoons is very curious; but what does their breaking up mean? _mrs. b._ it is the name given by sailors to the shifting of the periodical winds; they do not change their course suddenly, but by degrees, as the sun moves from one hemisphere, to the other: this change is usually attended by storms and hurricanes, very dangerous for shipping; so that those seas are seldom navigated at the season of the equinoxes. _emily._ i think i understand the winds in the torrid zone perfectly well; but what is it that occasions the great variety of winds, which occur in the temperate zones? for, according to your theory, there should be only north and south winds, in those climates. _mrs. b._ since so large a portion of the atmosphere, as is over the torrid zone, is in continued agitation, these agitations in an elastic fluid, which yields to the slightest impression, must extend every way, to a great distance; the air, therefore, in all climates, will suffer more or less perturbation, according to the situation of the country, the position of mountains, valleys, and a variety of other causes: hence it is easy to conceive, that almost every climate, must be liable to variable winds; this is particularly the case in high latitudes, where the earth is less powerfully affected by the sun's rays, than near the equator. _caroline._ i have observed, that the wind, whichever way it blows, almost always falls about sun-set. _mrs. b._ because the rarefaction of air in the particular spot which produces the wind, diminishes as the sun declines, and consequently the velocity of the wind, abates. _emily._ since the air is a gravitating fluid, is it not affected by the attraction of the moon and the sun, in the same manner as the waters? _mrs. b._ undoubtedly; but the ærial tides are as much greater than those of water, as the density of water exceeds that of air, which, as you may recollect, we found to be about to . _caroline._ what a prodigious protuberance that must occasion! how much the weight of such a column of air, must raise the mercury in the barometer! _emily._ as this enormous tide of air is drawn up and supported, as it were, by the moon, its weight and pressure, i should suppose, would be rather diminished than increased? _mrs. b._ the weight of the atmosphere is neither increased nor diminished by the ærial tides. the moon's attraction augments the bulk, as much as it diminishes the weight, of the column of air; these effects, therefore, counterbalancing each other, the ærial tides do not affect the barometer. _caroline._ i do not quite understand that. _mrs. b._ let us suppose that the additional bulk of air at high tide, raises the barometer one inch; and on the other hand, that the support which the moon's attraction affords the air, diminishes its weight or pressure, so as to occasion the mercury to fall one inch; under these circumstances the mercury must remain stationary. thus, you see, that we can never be sensible of ærial tides by the barometer, on account of the equality of pressure of the atmosphere, whatever be its height. the existence of ærial tides is not, however, hypothetical; it is proved by the effect they produce on the apparent position of the heavenly bodies; but this i cannot explain to you, till you understand the properties of light. _emily._ and when shall we learn them? _mrs. b._ i shall first explain to you the nature of sound, which is intimately connected with that of air; and i think at our next meeting, we may enter upon the subject of optics. we have now considered the effects produced by the wide, and extended agitation, of the air; but there is another kind of agitation, of which the air is susceptible--a vibratory trembling motion, which, striking on the drum of the ear, produces _sound_. _caroline._ is not sound produced by solid bodies? the voice of animals, the ringing of bells, the music of instruments, all proceed from solid bodies. i know of no sound but that of the wind, which is produced by the air. _mrs. b._ sound, i assure you, results from a tremulous motion of the air; and the sonorous bodies you enumerate, are merely the instruments by which that peculiar species of motion, is communicated to the air. _caroline._ what! when i ring this little bell, is it the air that sounds, and not the bell? _mrs. b._ both the bell, and the air, are concerned in the production of sound. but sound, strictly speaking, is a perception excited in the mind, by the motion of the air, on the nerves of the ear; the air, therefore, as well as the sonorous bodies which put it in motion, is only the cause of sound, the immediate effect is produced by the sense of hearing: for without this sense, there would be no sound. _emily._ i can with difficulty conceive that. a person born deaf, it is true, has no idea of sound, because he hears none; yet that does not prevent the real existence of sound, as all those who are not deaf, can testify. _mrs. b._ i do not doubt the existence of sound, to all those who possess the sense of hearing; but it exists neither in the sonorous body, nor in the air, but in the mind of the person whose ear is struck, by the vibratory motion of the air, produced by a sonorous body. sound, therefore, is a sensation, produced in a living body; life, is as necessary to its existence, as it is to that of feeling or seeing. to convince you that sound does not exist in sonorous bodies, but that air or some other vehicle, is necessary to its production, endeavour to ring the little bell, after i have suspended it under a receiver in the air pump, from which i shall exhaust the air.... _caroline._ this is indeed very strange: though i agitate it so violently, it produces but little sound. _mrs. b._ by exhausting the receiver, i have cut off the communication between the air and the bell; the latter, therefore, cannot impart its motion, to the air. _caroline._ are you sure that it is not the glass, which covers the bell, that prevents our hearing it? _mrs. b._ that you may easily ascertain, by letting the air into the receiver, and then ringing the bell. _caroline._ very true; i can hear it now, almost as loud, as if the glass did not cover it; and i can no longer doubt but that air is necessary to the production of sound. _mrs. b._ not absolutely necessary, though by far the most common vehicle of sound. liquids, as well as air, are capable of conveying the vibratory motion of a sonorous body, to the organ of hearing; as sound can be heard under water. solid bodies also, convey sound, as i can soon convince you by a very simple experiment. i shall fasten this string by the middle, round the poker; now raise the poker from the ground, by the two ends of the string, and hold one to each of your ears:--i shall now strike the poker, with a key, and you will find that the sound is conveyed to the ear by means of the strings, in a much more perfect manner, than if it had no other vehicle than the air. _caroline._ that it is, certainly, for i am almost stunned by the noise. but what is a sonorous body, mrs. b.? for all bodies are capable of producing some kind of sound, by the motion they communicate to the air. _mrs. b._ those bodies are called sonorous, which produce clear, distinct, regular, and durable sounds, such as a bell, a drum, musical strings, wind instruments, &c. they owe this property to their elasticity; for an elastic body, after having been struck, not only returns to its former situation, but having acquired momentum by its velocity, like the pendulum, it springs out on the opposite side. if i draw the string a b, (fig. , plate ,) which is made fast at both ends, to c, it will not only return to its original position, but proceed onwards, to d. this is its first vibration; at the end of which, it will retain sufficient velocity to bring it to e, and back again to f, which constitutes its second vibration; the third vibration, will carry it only to g and h, and so on, till the resistance of the air destroys its motion. the vibration of a sonorous body, gives a tremulous motion to the air around it, very similar to the motion communicated to smooth water, when a stone is thrown into it. this, first produces a small circular wave, around the spot in which the stone falls; the wave spreads, and gradually communicates its motion to the adjacent waters, producing similar waves to a considerable extent. the same kind of waves are produced in the air, by the motion of a sonorous body, but with this difference, that as air, is an elastic fluid, the motion does not consist of regularly extending waves, but of vibrations; and are composed of a motion, forwards and backwards, similar to those of the sonorous body. they differ also, in the one taking place in a plane, the other, in all directions: the ærial undulations, being spherical. _emily._ but if the air moves backwards, as well as forwards, how can its motion extend so as to convey sound to a distance? _mrs. b._ the first sphere of undulations, which are produced immediately around the sonorous body, by pressing against the contiguous air, condenses it. the condensed air, though impelled forward by the pressure, reacts on the first set of undulations, driving them back again. the second set of undulations which have been put in motion, in their turn, communicate their motion, and are themselves driven back, by reaction. thus, there is a succession of waves in the air, corresponding with the succession of waves in the water. _caroline._ the vibrations of sound, must extend much further than the circular waves in water, since sound is conveyed to a great distance. _mrs. b._ the air is a fluid so much less dense than water, that motion is more easily communicated to it. the report of a cannon produces vibrations of the air, which extend to several miles around. _emily._ distant sound takes some time to reach us, since it is produced at the moment the cannon is fired; and we see the light of the flash, long before we hear the report. _mrs. b._ the air is immediately put in motion, by the firing of a cannon; but it requires time for the vibrations to extend to any distant spot. the velocity of sound, is computed to be at the rate of feet in a second. _caroline._ with what astonishing rapidity the vibrations must be communicated! but the velocity of sound varies, i suppose, with that of the air which conveys it. if the wind sets towards us from the cannon, we must hear the report sooner than if it set the other way. _mrs. b._ the direction of the wind makes less difference in the velocity of sound, than you would imagine. if the wind sets from us, it bears most of the ærial waves away, and renders the sound fainter; but it is not very considerably longer in reaching the ear, than if the wind blew towards us. this uniform velocity of sound, enables us to determine the distance of the object, from which it proceeds; as that of a vessel at sea, firing a cannon, or that of a thunder cloud. if we do not hear the thunder, till half a minute after we see the lightning, we conclude the cloud to be at the distance of six miles and a half. _emily._ pray, how is the sound of an echo produced? _mrs. b._ when the ærial vibrations meet with an obstacle, having a hard and regular surface, such as a wall, or rock, they are reflected back to the ear, and produce the same sound a second time; but the sound will then appear to proceed, from the object by which it is reflected. if the vibrations fall perpendicularly on the obstacle, they are reflected back in the same line; if obliquely, the sound returns obliquely, in the opposite direction, the angle of reflection being equal to the angle of incidence. _caroline._ oh, then, emily, i now understand why the echo of my voice behind our house is heard so much plainer by you than it is by me, when we stand at the opposite ends of the gravel walk. my voice, or rather, i should say, the vibrations of air it occasions, fall obliquely on the wall of the house, and are reflected by it, to the opposite end of the gravel walk. _emily._ very true; and we have observed, that when we stand in the middle of the walk, opposite the house, the echo returns to the person who spoke. _mrs. b._ speaking-trumpets, are constructed on the principle, that sound is reflected. the voice, instead of being diffused in the open air, is confined within the trumpet; and the vibrations which would otherwise spread laterally, fall against the sides of the instrument, and are reflected from the different points of incidence, so as to combine with those vibrations which proceed straight forwards. the vibrations are thus forced onwards, in the direction of the trumpet, so as greatly to increase the sound, to a person situated in that direction. figure , plate , will give you a clearer idea, of the speaking-trumpet; in this, lines are drawn to represent the manner, in which we may imagine the sound to be reflected. there is a point in front of the trumpet, f, which is denominated its focus, because the sound is there more intense, than at any other spot. the trumpet used by deaf persons, acts on the same principle; although it does not equally increase the sound. _emily._ are the trumpets used as musical instruments, also constructed on this principle? _mrs. b._ so far as their form tends to increase the sound, they are; but, as a musical instrument, the trumpet becomes itself the sonorous body, which is made to vibrate by blowing into it, and communicates its vibrations to the air. i will attempt to give you, in a few words, some notion of the nature of musical sounds, which, as you are fond of music, must be interesting to you. if a sonorous body be struck in such a manner, that its vibrations, are all performed in regular times, the vibrations of the air, will correspond with them; and striking in the same regular manner on the drum of the ear, will produce the same uniform sensation, on the auditory nerve, and excite the same uniform idea, in the mind; or, in other words, we shall hear one musical tone. but if the vibrations of the sonorous body, are irregular, there will necessarily follow a confusion of ærial vibrations; for a second vibration may commence, before the first is finished, meet it half way on its return, interrupt it in its course, and produce harsh jarring sounds, which are called _discords_. _emily._ but each set of these irregular vibrations, if repeated alone, and at equal intervals, would, i suppose, produce a musical tone? it is only their irregular interference, which occasions discord. _mrs. b._ certainly. the quicker a sonorous body vibrates, the more acute, or sharp, is the sound produced; and the slower the vibrations, the more grave will be the note. _caroline._ but if i strike any one note of the piano-forte, repeatedly, whether quickly or slowly, it always gives the same tone. _mrs. b._ because the vibrations of the same string, at the same degree of tension, are always of a similar duration. the quickness, or slowness of the vibrations, relate to the single tones, not to the various sounds which they may compose, by succeeding each other. striking the note in quick succession, produces a more frequent repetition of the tone, but does not increase the velocity of the vibrations of the string. the duration of the vibrations of strings, or wires, depends upon their length, their thickness, or weight, and their degree of tension: thus, you find, the low bass notes are produced by long, thick, loose strings; and the high treble notes by short, small, and tight strings. _caroline._ then, the different length, and size, of the strings of musical instruments, serve to vary the duration of the vibrations, and consequently, the acuteness or gravity of the notes? _mrs. b._ yes. among the variety of tones, there are some which, sounded together, please the ear, producing what we call harmony, or concord. this arises from the agreement of the vibrations of the two sonorous bodies; so that some of the vibrations of each, strike upon the ear at the same time. thus, if the vibrations of two strings are performed in equal times, the same tone is produced by both, and they are said to be in unison. _emily._ now, then, i understand why, when i tune my harp, in unison with the piano-forte, i draw the strings tighter, if it is too low, or loosen them, if it is too high a pitch: it is in order to bring them to vibrate, in equal times, with the strings of the piano-forte. _mrs. b._ but concord, you know, is not confined to unison; for two different tones, harmonize in a variety of cases. when the vibrations of one string (or other sonorous body) vibrate in double the time of another, the second vibration of the latter, will strike upon the ear, at the same instant, as the first vibration of the former; and this is the concord of an octave. if the vibrations of two strings are as two to three, the second vibration of the first, corresponds with the third vibration of the latter, producing the harmony called, a fifth. _caroline._ so, then, when i strike the key-note with its fifth, i hear every second vibration of one, and every third of the other, at the same time? _mrs. b._ yes; and the key-note, struck with the fourth, is likewise a concord, because the vibrations, are as three to four. the vibrations of a major third, with the key-note, are as four to five; and those of a minor third, as five to six. there are other tones, which, though they cannot be struck together without producing discord, if struck successively, give us that succession of pleasing sounds, which is called melody. harmony, you perceive, arises from the combined effect of two, or more concordant sounds, while melody, is the result of certain simple sounds, which succeed each other. upon these general principles, the science of music is founded; but, i am not sufficiently acquainted with it, to enter into it any further. we shall now, therefore, take leave of the subject of sound; and, at our next interview, enter upon that of optics, in which we shall consider the nature of light, vision, and colours. questions . (pg. ) what is wind, and how is it generally produced? . (pg. ) how do the winds blow, around the place where the air becomes rarefied? . (pg. ) what effect is likely to be produced where the winds meet? . (pg. ) in what part of the globe is the air most rarefied, and what is the consequence? . (pg. ) how do these winds change their direction as they approach the equator? . (pg. ) how are the trade-winds produced, and how far do they extend? . (pg. ) how is the equilibrium in the air restored? . (pg. ) how can contrary currents of air be shown in a room? . (pg. ) what causes this? . (pg. ) what is meant by a periodical wind? . (pg. ) what occasions the land and sea breezes, and where do they prevail? . (pg. ) what are monsoons? . (pg. ) how do they change, and what is the cause? . (pg. ) what is meant by their breaking up, and what effect is in general produced? . (pg. ) why is the wind most variable in high latitudes? . (pg. ) why is the wind apt to lessen about sunset? . (pg. ) what effect must the sun and moon produce upon the atmosphere, from their attraction? . (pg. ) why do not the ærial tides affect the barometer? . (pg. ) how is sound produced? . (pg. ) does sound exist in the sonorous body, if not, what is it? . (pg. ) by what experiment might we prove that air is the principal vehicle of sound? . (pg. ) what other bodies convey sound, and how can it be shown that they do so? . (pg. ) what is meant by a sonorous body? . (pg. ) to what do they owe this property? . (pg. ) how is this explained by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how is it illustrated by a stone thrown into water, and how far does this illustration apply? . (pg. ) how are the vibrations propagated? . (pg. ) how can we prove that sound, does not travel as rapidly as light? . (pg. ) at what rate is sound said to travel? . (pg. ) is the velocity much influenced by the direction of the wind? . (pg. ) how will sound enable us to judge of the distance of objects? . (pg. ) how are echoes produced? . (pg. ) what is the operation and effect of the speaking-trumpet (fig. , plate )? . (pg. ) how is a musical tone produced? . (pg. ) what occasions discords? . (pg. ) upon what does the acuteness or gravity of a sound depend? . (pg. ) does the force, with which a string is struck, affect the rapidity of its vibrations? . (pg. ) how are the strings made to produce the high and low notes? . (pg. ) what is meant by harmony, or concord, and how is it produced? . (pg. ) when are strings said to be in unison? . (pg. ) how are octaves produced? . (pg. ) how are fifths produced? . (pg. ) how major and minor thirds? . (pg. ) what is meant by melody, and in what particular does it differ from harmony? [illustration: plate xv.] conversation xiv. on optics. of luminous, transparent, and opaque bodies. of the radiation of light. of shadows. of the reflection of light. opaque bodies seen only by reflected light. vision explained. camera obscura. image of objects on the retina. caroline. i long to begin our lesson to-day, mrs. b., for i expect that it will be very entertaining. _mrs. b._ _optics is that branch of philosophy, which treats of the nature and properties of light._ it is certainly one of the most interesting branches of natural philosophy, but not one of the easiest to understand; i must, therefore, beg that you will give me your undivided attention. i shall first inquire, whether you comprehend the meaning of a _luminous body_, an _opaque body_, and a _transparent body_. _caroline._ a luminous body is one that shines; an opaque.... _mrs. b._ do not proceed to the second, until we have agreed upon the definition of the first. all bodies that shine, are not luminous; for a luminous body is one that shines by its own light; as the sun, the fire, a candle, &c. _emily._ polished metal then, when it shines with so much brilliancy, is not a luminous body? _mrs. b._ no, for it would be dark, if it did not receive light from a luminous body; it belongs, therefore, to the class of dark, as well as of opaque bodies, which comprehends all such as are neither luminous, nor will admit the light to pass through them. _emily._ and transparent bodies, are those which admit the light to pass through them, such as glass and water. _mrs. b._ you are right. transparent, or pellucid bodies, are frequently called mediums, because they allow the rays of light to pass through them; and the rays which pass through, are said to be transmitted by them. light, when emanated from the sun, or any other luminous body, is projected forward in straight lines, in every possible direction; so that the luminous body, is not only the general centre, from whence all the rays proceed; but every point of it, may be considered as a centre, which radiates light in every direction. (fig. , plate .) _emily._ but do not the rays which are projected in different directions, and cross each other, interfere, and impede each other's course? _mrs. b._ not at all. the particles of light, are so extremely minute, that they are never known to interfere with each other. a ray of light, is a single line of light, projected from a luminous body; and a pencil of rays, is a collection of rays, proceeding from any one point of a luminous body, as fig. . _caroline._ is light then a substance composed of particles, like other bodies? _mrs. b._ that is a disputed point, upon which i cannot pretend to decide. in some respects, light is obedient to the laws which govern bodies; in others, it appears to be independent of them: thus, though its course is guided by the laws of motion, it does not seem to be influenced by those of gravity. it has never been discovered to have weight, though a variety of interesting experiments have been made with a view of ascertaining that point; but we are so ignorant of the intimate nature of light, that an attempt to investigate it, would lead us into a labyrinth of perplexity, if not of error; we shall, therefore, confine our attention to those properties of light, which are well ascertained. let us return to the examination of the effects of the radiation of light, from a luminous body. since the rays of light are projected in straight lines, when they meet with an opaque body through which they are unable to pass, they are stopped short in their course; for they cannot move in a curve line round the body. _caroline._ no, certainly; for it would require some other force besides that of projection, to produce motion in a curve line. _mrs. b._ the interruption of the rays of light, by the opaque body, produces, therefore, darkness on the opposite side of it: and if this darkness fall upon a wall, a sheet of paper, or any object whatever, it forms a shadow. _emily._ a shadow, then, is nothing more than darkness produced by the intervention of an opaque body, which prevents the rays of light from reaching an object behind it. _caroline._ why then are shadows of different degrees of darkness; for i should have supposed, from your definition of a shadow, that it would have been perfectly black? _mrs. b._ it frequently happens that a shadow is produced by an opaque body, interrupting the course of the rays from one luminous body, while light from another, reaches the space where the shadow is formed; in which case, the shadow is proportionally fainter. this happens when the opaque body is lighted by two candles: if you extinguish one of them, the shadow will be both deeper, and more distinct. _caroline._ but yet it will not be perfectly dark. _mrs. b._ because it is still slightly illuminated by light reflected from the walls of the room, and other surrounding objects. you must observe, also, that when a shadow is produced by the interruption of rays from a single luminous body, the darkness is proportioned to the intensity of the light. _emily._ i should have supposed the contrary; for as the light reflected from surrounding objects on the shadow, must be in proportion to the intensity of the light, the stronger the light, the more the shadow will be illumined. _mrs. b._ your remark is perfectly just; but as we have no means of estimating the degrees of light, and of darkness, but by comparison, the strongest light will appear to produce the deepest shadow. hence a total eclipse of the sun, occasions a more sensible darkness than midnight, as it is immediately contrasted with the strong light of noonday. _caroline._ the reappearance of the sun, after an eclipse, must, by the same contrast, appear remarkably brilliant. _mrs. b._ certainly. there are several things to be observed, in regard to the form, and extent, of shadows. if the luminous body a (fig. .) is larger than the opaque body b, the shadow will gradually diminish in size, till it terminates in a point. _caroline._ this is the case with the shadows of the earth, and the moon; as the sun, which illumines them, is larger than either of those bodies. and why is it not the case with the shadows of terrestrial objects? their shadows, far from diminishing, are always larger than the object, and increase with the distance from it. _mrs. b._ in estimating the effect of shadows, we must consider the dimensions of the luminous body; when the luminous body is less, than the opaque body, the shadow will increase with the distance. this will be best exemplified, by observing the shadow of an object lighted by a candle. _emily._ i have often noticed, that the shadow of my figure, against the wall, grows larger, as it is more distant from me, which is owing, no doubt, to the candle that shines on me, being much smaller than myself. _mrs. b._ yes. the shadow of a figure as a, (fig. .) varies in size, according to the distance of the several surfaces b c d e, on which it is described. _caroline._ i have observed, that two candles, produce two shadows from the same object; whilst it would appear, from what you said, that they should rather produce only half a shadow, that is to say, a very faint one. _mrs. b._ the number of lights (in different directions) while it decreases the intensity of the shadows, increases their number, which always corresponds with that of the lights; for each light, makes the opaque body cast a different shadow, as illustrated by fig. . which represents a ball a, lighted by three candles, b, c, d; and you observe the light b, produces the shadow _b_, the light c, the shadow _c_, and the light d, the shadow _d_; but neither of these shadows will be very dark, because the light of one candle only, is intercepted by the ball; and the spot is still illuminated by the other two. _emily._ i think we now understand the nature of shadows very well; but pray, what becomes of the rays of light, which opaque bodies arrest in their course, and the interruption of which, is the occasion of shadows? _mrs. b._ your question leads to a very important property of light, _reflection_. when rays of light encounter an opaque body, they cannot pass through it, and part of them are absorbed by it, and part are reflected, and rebound; just as an elastic ball rebounds, when struck against a wall. by reflection, we mean that the light is turned back again, through the same medium which it had traversed in its first course. _emily._ and is light, in its reflection, governed by the same laws, as solid, elastic bodies? _mrs. b._ exactly. if a ray of light fall perpendicularly on an opaque body, it is reflected back in the same line, towards the point whence it proceeded. if it fall obliquely, it is reflected obliquely, but in the opposite direction; the ray which falls upon the reflecting surface, is called the incident ray, and that which leaves it, the reflected ray; the angle of incidence, is always equal to the angle of reflection. you recollect that law in mechanics? _emily._ oh yes, perfectly. _mrs. b._ if you will shut the shutters, we will admit a ray of the sun's light, through a very small aperture, and i can show you how it is reflected. i now hold this mirror, so that the ray shall fall perpendicularly upon it. _caroline._ i see the ray which falls upon the mirror, but not that which is reflected by it. _mrs. b._ because it is turned directly back again; and the ray of incidence, and that of reflection, are confounded together, both being in the same line, though in opposite directions. _emily._ the ray then, which appears to us single, is really double, and is composed of the incident ray, proceeding to the mirror, and of the reflected ray, returning from the mirror. _mrs. b._ exactly so. we will now separate them, by holding the mirror m, (fig. ,) in such a manner, that the incident ray, a b, shall fall obliquely upon it--you see the reflected ray, b c, is marching off in another direction. if we draw a line from the point of incidence b, perpendicularly, to the mirror, it will divide the angle of incidence, from the angle of reflection, and you will see that they are equal. _emily._ exactly; and now, that you hold the mirror, so that the ray falls more obliquely upon it, it is also reflected more obliquely, preserving the equality of the angles of incidence, and of reflection. _mrs. b._ it is by reflected rays only, that we see opaque objects. luminous bodies, send rays of light immediately to our eyes, but the rays which they send to other bodies, are invisible to us, and are seen, only when they are reflected by those bodies, to our eyes. _emily._ but have we not just seen the ray of light, in its passage from the sun to the mirror, and its reflections? yet, in neither case, were those rays in a direction to enter our eyes. _mrs. b._ what you saw, was the light reflected to your eyes, by small particles of dust floating in the air, and on which the ray shone, in its passage to, and from, the mirror. _caroline._ yet i see the sun, shining on that house yonder, as clearly as possible. _mrs. b._ indeed you cannot see a single ray, which passes from the sun to the house; you see, by the aid of those rays, which enter your eyes; therefore, it is the rays which are reflected by the house, to you, and not those which proceed directly from the sun, to the house, that render the building visible to you. _caroline._ why then does one side of the house appear to be in sunshine, and the other in shade? for, if i cannot see the sun shine upon it, the whole of the house should appear in the shade. _mrs. b._ that side of the house, which the sun shines upon, receives, and reflects more light, and therefore, appears more luminous and vivid, than the side which is in shadow; for the latter is illumined only, by rays reflected upon it by other objects; these rays are, therefore, twice reflected before they reach your sight; and as light is more, or less, absorbed by the bodies it strikes upon, every time a ray is reflected, its intensity is diminished. _caroline._ still i cannot reconcile to myself, the idea that we do not see the sun's rays shining on objects, but only those which such objects reflect to us. _mrs. b._ i do not, however, despair of convincing you of it. look at that large sheet of water; can you tell why the sun appears to shine on one part of it only? _caroline._ no, indeed; for the whole of it is equally exposed to the sun. this partial brilliancy of water, has often excited my wonder; but it has struck me more particularly by moonlight. i have frequently observed a vivid streak of moonshine on the sea, while the rest of the water remained in deep obscurity, and yet there was no apparent obstacle to prevent the moon from shining equally on every part of the water. _mrs. b._ by moonlight the effect is more remarkable, on account of the deep obscurity of the other parts of the water; while by the sun's light, the effect is too strong for the eye to be able to observe it so distinctly. _caroline._ but, if the sun really shines on every part of that sheet of water, why does not every part of it, reflect rays to my eyes? _mrs. b._ the reflected rays, are not attracted out of their natural course, by your eyes. the direction of a reflected ray, you know, depends on that of the incident ray; the sun's rays, therefore, which fall with various degrees of obliquity upon the water, are reflected in directions equally various; some of these will meet your eyes, and you will see them, but those which fall elsewhere, are invisible to you. _caroline._ the streak of sunshine, then, which we now see upon the water, is composed of those rays which by their reflection, happen to fall upon my eyes? _mrs. b._ precisely. _emily._ but is that side of the house yonder, which appears to be in shadow, really illuminated by the sun, and its rays reflected another way? _mrs. b._ no; that is a different case, from the sheet of water. that side of the house, is really in shadow; it is the west side, which the sun cannot shine upon, till the afternoon. _emily._ those objects, then, which are illumined by reflected rays, and those which receive direct rays from the sun, but which do not reflect those rays towards us, appear equally in shadow? _mrs. b._ certainly; for we see them both illumined by reflected rays. that part of the sheet of water, over which the trees cast a shadow, by what light do you see it? _emily._ since it is not by the sun's direct rays, it must be by those reflected on it from other objects, and which it again reflects to us. _caroline._ but if we see all terrestrial objects by reflected light, (as we do the moon,) why do they appear so bright and luminous? i should have supposed that reflected rays, would have been dull and faint, like those of the moon. _mrs. b._ the moon reflects the sun's light, with as much vividness as any terrestrial object. if you look at it on a clear night, it will appear as bright as a sheet of water, the walls of a house, or any object seen by daylight, and on which the sun shines. the rays of the moon are doubtless feeble, when compared with those of the sun; but that would not be a fair comparison, for the former are incident, the latter, reflected rays. _caroline._ true; and when we see terrestrial objects by moonlight, the light has been twice reflected, and is consequently, proportionally fainter. _mrs. b._ in traversing the atmosphere, the rays, both of the sun, and moon, lose some of their light. for though the pure air, is a transparent medium, which transmits the rays of light freely, we have observed, that near the surface of the earth, it is loaded with vapours and exhalations, by which some portion of them are absorbed. _caroline._ i have often noticed, that an object on the summit of a hill, appears more distinct, than one at an equal distance in a valley, or a plain; which is owing, i suppose, to the air being more free from vapours in an elevated situation, and the reflected rays, being consequently brighter. _mrs. b._ that may have some sensible effect; but, when an object on the summit of a hill, has a back ground of light sky, the contrast with the object, makes its outline more distinct. _caroline._ i now feel well satisfied, that we see opaque objects, only by reflected rays; but i do not understand, how these rays, show us the objects from which they proceed. _mrs. b._ i shall hereafter describe the structure of the eye, very particularly, but will now observe, that the small round spot, which is generally called the sight of the eye, is properly denominated the _pupil_; and that the _retina_, is an expansion of the optic nerve on the back part of the ball of the eye, upon which, as upon a screen, the rays fall, which enter at the pupil. the rays of light, enter at the pupil of the eye, and proceed to the retina; and there they describe the figure, colour, and (excepting size) form a perfect representation of the object, from which they proceed. we shall again close the shutters, and admit the light, through the small hole made for that purpose, and you will see a picture, on the wall, opposite the aperture, similar to that which is delineated on the retina of the eye. the picture is somewhat confused, but by using a lens, to bring the rays to a focus, it will be rendered very distinct. _caroline._ oh, how wonderful! there is an exact picture in miniature of the garden, the gardener at work, the trees blown about by the wind. the landscape, would be perfect, if it were not reversed; the ground, being above, and the sky beneath. _mrs. b._ it is not enough to admire, you must understand, this phenomenon, which is called a _camera obscura_, or dark chamber; from the necessity of darkening the room, in order to exhibit it. the camera obscura, sometimes consists of a small box, properly fitted up, to represent external objects. this picture, you now see, is produced by the rays of light, reflected from the various objects in the garden, and which are admitted through the hole in the window shutter. [illustration: plate xvi.] the rays from the glittering weathercock, at the top of the alcove, a, (plate .) represent it in this spot, _a_; for the weathercock, being much higher than the aperture in the shutter, only a few of the rays, which are reflected by it, in an obliquely descending direction, can find entrance there. the rays of light, you know, always move in straight lines; those, therefore, which enter the room, in a descending direction, will continue their course in the same direction, and will consequently fall upon the lower part of the wall opposite the aperture, and represent the weathercock, reversed in that spot, instead of erect, in the uppermost part of the landscape. _emily._ and the rays of light, from the steps, (b) of the alcove, in entering the aperture, ascend, and will describe those steps in the highest, instead of the lowest, part of the landscape. _mrs. b._ observe, too, that the rays coming from the alcove, which is to our left, describe it on the wall, to the right; while those, which are reflected by the walnut tree, c d, to our right, delineate its figure in the picture, to the left, _c d_. thus the rays, coming in different directions, and proceeding always in right lines, cross each other at their entrance through the aperture; those which come from above, proceed below, those from the right, go to the left, those from the left, towards the right; thus every object is represented in the picture, as occupying a situation, the very reverse of that which it does in nature. _caroline._ excepting the flower-pot, e f, which, though its position is reversed, has not changed its situation in the landscape. _mrs. b._ the flower-pot, is directly in front of the aperture; so that its rays, fall perpendicularly upon it, and consequently proceed perpendicularly to the wall, where they delineate the object, directly behind the aperture. _emily._ and is it thus, that the picture of objects, is painted on the retina of the eye? _mrs. b._ precisely. the pupil of the eye, through which the rays of light enter, represents the aperture in the window-shutter; and the image, delineated on the retina, is exactly similar to the picture on the wall. _caroline._ you do not mean to say, that we see only the representation of the object, which is painted on the retina, and not the object itself? _mrs. b._ if, by sight, you understand that sense, by which the presence of objects is perceived by the mind, through the means of the eyes, we certainly see only the image of those objects, painted on the retina. _caroline._ this appears to me quite incredible. _mrs. b._ the nerves, are the only part of our frame, capable of sensation: they appear, therefore, to be the instruments, which the mind employs in its perceptions; for a sensation, always conveys an idea, to the mind. now it is known, that our nerves can be affected only by contact; and for this reason, the organs of sense, cannot act at a distance: for instance, we are capable of smelling only particles which are actually in contact with the nerves of the nose. we have already observed, that the odour of a flower consists in effluvia, composed of very minute particles, which penetrate the nostrils, and strike upon the olfactory nerves, which instantly convey the idea of odour to the mind. _emily._ and sound, though it is said to be heard at a distance, is, in fact, heard only when the vibrations of the air, which convey it to our ears, strike upon the auditory nerve. _caroline._ there is no explanation required, to prove that the senses of feeling and of tasting, are excited only by contact. _mrs. b._ and i hope to convince you, that the sense of sight, is so likewise. the nerves, which constitute the sense of sight, are not different in their nature from those of the other organs; they are merely instruments which convey ideas to the mind, and can be affected only on contact. now, since real objects cannot be brought to touch the optic nerve, the image of them is conveyed thither by the rays of light, proceeding from real objects, which actually strike upon the optic nerve, and form that image which the mind perceives. _caroline._ while i listen to your reasoning, i feel convinced; but when i look upon the objects around, and think that i do not see them, but merely their image painted in my eyes, my belief is again staggered. i cannot reconcile to myself, the idea, that i do not really see this book which i hold in my hand, nor the words which i read in it. _mrs. b._ did it ever occur to you as extraordinary, that you never beheld your own face? _caroline._ no; because i so frequently see an exact representation of it in the looking-glass. _mrs. b._ you see a far more exact representation of objects on the retina of your eye: it is a much more perfect mirror, than any made by art. _emily._ but is it possible, that the extensive landscape, which i now behold from the window, should be represented on so small a space, as the retina of the eye? _mrs. b._ it would be impossible for art to paint so small and distinct a miniature; but nature works with a surer hand, and a more delicate pencil. that power alone, which forms the feathers of the butterfly, and the organs of the minutest insect, can pourtray so admirable and perfect a miniature, as that which is represented on the retina of the eye. _caroline._ but, mrs. b., if we see only the image of objects, why do we not see them reversed, as you showed us they were, in the camera obscura? is not that a strong argument against your theory? _mrs. b._ not an unanswerable one, i hope. the image on the retina, it is true, is reversed, like that in the camera obscura; as the rays, from the different parts of the landscape, intersect each other on entering the pupil, in the same manner as they do, on entering the camera obscura. the scene, however, does not excite the idea of being inverted, because we always see an object in the direction of the rays which it sends to us. _emily._ i confess i do not understand that. _mrs. b._ it is, i think, a difficult point to explain clearly. a ray which comes from the upper part of an object, describes the image on the lower part of the retina; but, experience having taught us, that the direction of that ray is from above, we consider that part of the object it represents as uppermost. the rays proceeding from the lower part of an object, fall upon the upper part of the retina; but as we know their direction to be from below, we see that part of the object they describe as the lowest. _caroline._ when i want to see an object above me, i look up; when an object below me, i look down. does not this prove that i see the objects themselves? for if i beheld only the image, there would be no necessity for looking up or down, according as the object was higher or lower, than myself. _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon. when you look up, to an elevated object, it is in order that the rays reflected from it, should fall upon the retina of your eyes; but the very circumstance of directing your eyes upwards, convinces you that the object is elevated, and teaches you to consider as uppermost, the image it forms on the retina, though it is, in fact, represented in the lowest part of it. when you look down upon an object, you draw your conclusion from a similar reasoning; it is thus that we see all objects in the direction of the rays which reach our eyes. but i have a further proof in favour of what i have advanced, which, i hope, will remove your remaining doubts: i shall, however, defer it till our next meeting, as the lesson has been sufficiently long to-day. questions . (pg. ) what is optics? . (pg. ) what is meant by a luminous body? . (pg. ) what is meant by a dark body, and what by an opaque body? . (pg. ) what are transparent bodies? . (pg. ) what is a medium? . (pg. ) how is light projected from luminous bodies, and how, from every point of such bodies, (fig. , plate ?) . (pg. ) why do not the rays of light from different points, stop each other's progress? . (pg. ) what is a ray, and what a pencil of rays? fig. , plate . . (pg. ) do we know whether light is a substance, similar to bodies in general? . (pg. ) when a ray of light falls upon an opaque body, what is the result? . (pg. ) in what does shadow consist? . (pg. ) why are they, in general, but partially dark? . (pg. ) upon what does the intensity of a shadow depend? . (pg. ) how are shadows affected by the size of the luminous body, as represented in plate , fig. ? . (pg. ) when is the shadow larger than the intercepting body? . (pg. ) what is explained by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what will be the effect of several lights, as in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) why will neither of these shadows be very dark? . (pg. ) what becomes of the light which falls upon an opaque body? . (pg. ) what is meant by reflection? . (pg. ) what is meant by the incident, and reflected rays? . (pg. ) what is the result, when the incident ray falls perpendicularly, and what, when it falls obliquely? . (pg. ) what two angles are always equal in this case? . (pg. ) to what law in mechanics, is this analogous, as represented in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is represented by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) by what light are we enabled to see opaque, and by what, luminous bodies? . (pg. ) what enables us to see a ray of light in its passage, through a darkened room? . (pg. ) by what reasoning would you prove that an object, such, for example, as a house, is seen by reflected light? . (pg. ) why may one side of such object appear more bright than another side? . (pg. ) how is the fact exemplified by the sun, or moon, shining upon water? . (pg. ) why is this best evinced by moonlight? . (pg. ) by what light do we see the moon, and why is it comparatively feeble? . (pg. ) what circumstance, renders objects seen by moonlight, still less vivid? . (pg. ) what is meant by the pupil of the eye? . (pg. ) what by the retina? . (pg. ) how do the rays of light operate on the eye in producing vision? . (pg. ) how may this be exemplified, in a darkened room? . (pg. ) what is meant by a _camera obscura_? . (pg. ) how is it explained in plate ? . (pg. ) why are the objects inverted and reversed? . (pg. ) what analogy is there between the camera obscura, and the eye? . (pg. ) is it the object, or its picture on the retina, which presents to the mind an idea of the object seen? . (pg. ) by what organs is sensation produced, and how must these organs be affected? . (pg. ) how will the idea of contact, apply to objects not touching the eye? . (pg. ) why do not objects appear reversed to the eye, as in the camera obscura? conversation xv. optics--_continued_. on the angle of vision, and the reflection of mirrors. angle of vision. reflection of plain mirrors. reflection of convex mirrors. reflection of concave mirrors. caroline. well, mrs. b., i am very impatient to hear what further proofs you have to offer, in support of your theory. you must allow, that it was rather provoking to dismiss us as you did at our last meeting. _mrs. b._ you press so hard upon me with your objections, that you must give me time to recruit my forces. can you tell me, caroline, why objects at a distance, appear smaller than they really are? _caroline._ i know no other reason than their distance. _mrs. b._ it is a fact, that distance causes objects to appear smaller, but to state the fact, is not to give the reason. we must refer again to the camera obscura, to account for this circumstance; and you will find, that the different apparent dimensions of objects at different distances, proceed from our seeing, not the objects themselves, but merely their image on the retina. fig. , plate , represents a row of trees, as viewed in the camera obscura. i have expressed the direction of the rays, from the objects to the image, by lines. now, observe, the ray which comes from the top of the nearest tree, and that which comes from the foot of the same tree, meet at the aperture, forming an angle of about twenty-five degrees; the angle under which we see any object, is called, the visual angle, or, angle of vision. these rays cross each other at the aperture, forming equal angles on each side of it, and represent the tree inverted in the camera obscura. the degrees of the image, are considerably smaller than those of the object, but the proportions are perfectly preserved. [illustration: plate xvii.] now, let us notice the upper and lower ray, from the most distant tree; they form an angle of not more than twelve or fifteen degrees, and an image of proportional dimensions. thus, two objects of the same size, as the two trees of the avenue, form figures of different sizes in the camera obscura, according to their distance; or, in other words, according to the angle of vision under which they are seen. do you understand this? _caroline._ perfectly. _mrs. b._ then you have only to suppose, that the representation in the camera obscura, is similar to that on the retina. now, since objects of the same magnitudes, appear to be of different dimensions, when at different distances from us, let me ask you which it is, that you see; the real objects, which, we know, do not vary in size, or the images, which, we know, do vary, according to the angle of vision under which we see them? _caroline._ i must confess, that reason is in favour of the latter. but does that chair, at the further end of the room, form an image on my retina, much smaller than this which is close to me? they appear exactly of the same size. _mrs. b._ our senses are imperfect, but the experience we acquire by the sense of touch, corrects the illusions of our sight, with regard to objects within our reach. you are so perfectly convinced, of the real size of objects, which you can handle, that you do not attend to the apparent difference. does that house appear to you much smaller, than when you are close to it? _caroline._ no, because it is very near us. _mrs. b._ and yet you can see the whole of it, through one of the windows of this room. the image of the house on your retina must, therefore, be smaller than that of the window through which you see it. it is your knowledge of the real magnitude of the house which prevents your attending to its apparent size. if you were accustomed to draw from nature, you would be fully aware of this difference. _emily._ and pray, what is the reason that, when we look up an avenue, the trees not only appear smaller as they are more distant, but seem gradually to approach each other, till they meet in a point? _mrs. b._ not only the trees, but the road which separates the two rows, forms a smaller visual angle, in proportion as it is more distant from us; therefore, the width of the road gradually diminishes, as well as the size of the trees, till at length the road apparently terminates in a point, at which the trees seem to meet. _emily._ i am very glad to understand this, for i have lately begun to learn perspective, which appeared to me a very dry study; but now that i am acquainted with some of the principles on which it is founded, i shall find it much more interesting. _caroline._ in drawing a view from nature, it seems that we do not copy the real objects, but the image they form on the retina of our eyes? _mrs. b._ certainly. in sculpture, we copy nature as she really exists; in painting, we represent her, as she appears to us. we must now conclude the observations that remain to be made, on the angle of vision. if the rays, proceeding from the extremities of an object, with an ordinary degree of illumination, do not enter the eye under an angle of more than two seconds, which is the - th part of a degree, it is invisible. there are, consequently, two cases in which objects may be invisible; if they are either so small, or so distant, as to form an angle of less than two seconds of a degree. in like manner, if the velocity of a body does not exceed degrees in an hour, its motion is imperceptible. _caroline._ a very rapid motion may then be imperceptible, provided the distance of the moving body, is sufficiently great. _mrs. b._ undoubtedly; for the greater its distance, the smaller will be the angle, under which its motion will appear to the eye. it is for this reason, that the motion of the celestial bodies is invisible, although inconceivably rapid. _emily._ i am surprised, that so great a velocity as degrees an hour, should be invisible. _mrs. b._ the real velocity depends upon the space comprehended in each degree, and upon the time, in which the moving body, passes over that space. but we can only know the extent of this space, by knowing the distance of the moving body, from its centre of motion; for supposing two men to set off at the same moment from a and b, (fig. .) to walk each to the end of their respective lines, c and d; if they perform their walk in the same space of time, they must have proceeded at a very different rate; and yet to an eye situated at e, they will appear to have moved with equal velocity, because they will both have gone through an equal number of degrees, though over a very unequal length of ground. the number of degrees over which a body moves in a given time, is called its angular velocity; two bodies, you see, may have the same angular, or apparent velocity, whilst their real velocities may differ almost infinitely. sight is an extremely useful sense, no doubt, but it cannot always be relied on, it deceives us both in regard to the size and the distance of objects; indeed, our senses would be very liable to lead us into error, if experience did not set us right. _emily._ between the two, i think that we contrive to acquire a tolerably accurate idea of objects. _mrs. b._ at least sufficiently so, for the general purposes of life. to convince you how requisite experience is, to correct the errors of sight, i shall relate to you, the case of a young man, who was blind from his infancy, and who recovered his sight at the age of fourteen, by the operation of couching. at first, he had no idea, either of the size, or distance of objects, but imagined that every thing he saw touched his eyes; and it was not, till after having repeatedly felt them, and walked from one object to another, that he acquired an idea of their respective dimensions, their relative situations, and their distances. _caroline._ the idea that objects touched his eyes, is, however, not so absurd, as it at first appears; for if we consider that we see only the image of objects, this image actually touches our eyes. _mrs. b._ that is, doubtless, the reason of the opinion he formed, before the sense of touch had corrected his judgment. _caroline._ but since an image must be formed on the retina of each of our eyes, why do we not see objects double? _mrs. b._ the action of the rays, on the optic nerve of each eye, is so perfectly similar, that they produce but a single sensation; the mind, therefore, receives the same idea, from the retina of both eyes, and conceives the object to be single. _caroline._ this is difficult to comprehend, and i should think, can be but conjectural. _mrs. b._ i can easily convince you, that you have a distinct image of an object formed on the retina of each eye. look through the window, with both eyes open, at some object exactly opposite to one of the upright bars of the sash. _caroline._ i now see a tree, the body of which, appears to be in a line exactly opposite to one of the bars. _mrs. b._ if you now shut your right eye, and look with the left, it will appear to the left of the bar; then by closing the left eye, and looking with the other, it will appear to the right of the bar. _caroline._ that is true, indeed! _mrs. b._ there are, evidently, two representations of the tree in different situations, which must be owing to an image of it being formed on each eye; if the action of the rays, therefore, on each retina, were not so perfectly similar as to produce but one sensation, we should see double; and we find that to be the case with some persons, who are afflicted with a disease in one eye, which prevents the rays of light from affecting it in the same manner as the other. _emily._ pray, mrs. b., when we see the image of an object in a looking-glass, why is it not inverted, as in the camera obscura, and on the retina of the eye? _mrs. b._ because the rays do not enter the mirror by a small aperture, and cross each other, as they do at the orifice of a camera obscura, or the pupil of the eye. when you view yourself in a mirror, the rays from your eyes fall perpendicularly upon it, and are reflected in the same line; the image is, therefore, described behind the glass, and is situated in the same manner as the object before it. _emily._ yes, i see that it is; but the looking-glass is not nearly so tall as i am, how is it, therefore, that i can see the whole of my figure in it? _mrs. b._ it is not necessary that the mirror should be more than half your height, in order that you may see the whole of your person in it, (fig. .) the ray of light a b, from your eye, which falls perpendicularly on the mirror b d, will be reflected back, in the same line; but the ray from your feet, will fall obliquely on the mirror, for it must ascend in order to reach it; it will, therefore, be reflected in the line a d: and since we view objects in the direction of the reflected rays, which reach the eye, and since the image appears at the same distance, behind the mirror, that the object is before it, we must continue the line a d to e, and the line c d to f, at the termination of which, the image will be represented. [illustration: plate xviii.] _emily._ then i do not understand why i should not see the whole of my person in a much smaller mirror, for a ray of light from my feet would always reach it, though more obliquely. _mrs. b._ true; but the more obliquely the ray falls on the mirror, the more obliquely it will be reflected; the ray would, therefore, be reflected above your head, and you could not see it. this is shown by the dotted line (fig. .) now stand a little to the right of the mirror, so that the rays of light from your figure may fall obliquely on it---- _emily._ there is no image formed of me in the glass now. _mrs. b._ i beg your pardon, there is; but you cannot see it, because the incident rays, falling obliquely on the mirror, will be reflected obliquely, in the opposite direction; the angles of incidence, and reflection, being equal. caroline, place yourself in the direction of the reflected rays, and tell me whether you do not see emily's image in the glass? _caroline._ let me consider.--in order to look in the direction of the reflected rays, i must place myself as much to the left of the glass, as emily stands to the right of it.--now i see her image, not straight before me, however, but before her; and it appears at the same distance behind the glass, that she is in front of it. _mrs. b._ you must recollect, that we always see objects in the direction of the last rays, which reach our eyes. figure represents an eye, looking at the image of a vase, reflected by a mirror; it must see it in the direction of the ray a b, as that is the ray which brings the image to the eye; prolong the ray to c, and in that spot will the image appear. _caroline._ i do not understand why a looking-glass reflects the rays of light; for glass is a transparent body, which should transmit them! _mrs. b._ it is not the glass that reflects the rays which form the image you behold, but the silvering behind it; this silvering is a compound of mercury and tin, which forms a brilliant metallic coating. the glass acts chiefly as a transparent case, through which the rays find an easy passage, to, and from, the quicksilver. _caroline._ why then should not mirrors be made simply of mercury? _mrs. b._ because mercury is a fluid. by amalgamating it with tinfoil, it becomes of the consistence of paste, attaches itself to the glass, and forms, in fact, a metallic mirror, which would be much more perfect without its glass cover, for the purest glass is never perfectly transparent; some of the rays, therefore, are lost during their passage through it, by being either absorbed, or irregularly reflected. this imperfection of glass mirrors, has introduced the use of metallic mirrors, for optical purposes. _emily._ but since all opaque bodies reflect the rays of light, i do not understand why they are not all mirrors. _caroline._ a curious idea indeed, sister; it would be very gratifying to see oneself in every object at which one looked. _mrs. b._ it is very true that all opaque objects reflect light; but the surface of bodies, in general, is so rough and uneven, that the reflection from them is extremely irregular, and prevents the rays from forming an image on the retina. this, you will be able to understand better, when i shall explain to you the nature of vision, and the structure of the eye. you may easily conceive the variety of directions in which rays would be reflected by a nutmeg-grater, on account of the inequality of its surface, and the number of holes with which it is pierced. all solid bodies more or less resemble the nutmeg-grater, in these respects; and it is only those which are susceptible of receiving a polish, that can be made to reflect the rays with regularity. as hard bodies are of the closest texture, the least porous, and capable of taking the highest polish, they make the best mirrors; none, therefore, are so well calculated for this purpose, as metals. _caroline._ but the property of regular reflection, is not confined to this class of bodies; for i have often seen myself, in a highly polished mahogany table. _mrs. b._ certainly; but as that substance is less durable, and its reflection less perfect, than that of metals, i believe it would seldom be chosen, for the purpose of a mirror. there are three kinds of mirrors used in optics; the _plain_, or _flat_, which are the common mirrors we have just mentioned; _convex_ mirrors, and _concave_ mirrors. the reflection of the two latter, is very different from that of the former. the plain mirror, we have seen, does not alter the direction of the reflected rays, and forms an image behind the glass, exactly similar to the object before it. a convex mirror has the peculiar property of making the reflected rays diverge, by which means it diminishes the image; and a concave mirror makes the rays converge, and under certain circumstances, magnifies the image. _emily._ we have a convex mirror in the drawing-room, which forms a beautiful miniature picture of the objects in the room; and i have often amused myself with looking at my magnified face in a concave mirror. but i hope you will explain to us, why the one enlarges, while the other diminishes the objects it reflects. _mrs. b._ let us begin by examining the reflection of a convex mirror. this is formed of a portion of the exterior surface of a sphere. when several parallel rays fall upon it, that ray only which, if prolonged, would pass through the centre or axis of the mirror, is perpendicular to it. in order to avoid confusion, i have, in fig. , plate , drawn only three parallel lines, a b, c d, e f, to represent rays falling on the convex mirror, m n; the middle ray, you will observe, is perpendicular to the mirror, the others fall on it, obliquely. _caroline._ as the three rays are parallel, why are they not all perpendicular to the mirror? _mrs. b._ they would be so to a flat mirror; but as this is spherical, no ray can fall perpendicularly upon it which is not directed towards the centre of the sphere. _emily._ just as a weight falls perpendicularly to the earth, when gravity attracts it towards the centre. _mrs. b._ in order, therefore, that rays may fall perpendicularly to the mirror at b and f, the rays must be in the direction of the dotted lines, which, you may observe, meet at the centre o of the sphere, of which the mirror forms a portion. now, can you tell me in what direction the three rays, a b, c d, e f, will be reflected? _emily._ yes, i think so: the middle ray, falling perpendicularly on the mirror, will be reflected in the same line: the two outer rays falling obliquely, will be reflected obliquely to g and h; for the dotted lines you have drawn are perpendiculars, which divide the angles of incidence and reflection, of those two rays. _mrs. b._ extremely well, emily: and since we see objects in the direction of the reflected ray, we shall see the image l, which is the point at which the reflected rays, if continued through the mirror, would unite and form an image. this point is equally distant, from the surface and centre of the sphere, and is called the imaginary focus of the mirror. _caroline._ pray, what is the meaning of focus? _mrs. b._ a point at which converging rays, unite. and it is in this case, called an imaginary focus; because the rays do not really unite at that point, but only appear to do so: for the rays do not pass through the mirror, since they are reflected by it. _emily._ i do not yet understand why an object appears smaller, when viewed in a convex mirror. _mrs. b._ it is owing to the divergence of the reflected rays. you have seen that a convex mirror, by reflection, converts parallel rays into divergent rays; rays that fall upon the mirror divergent, are rendered still more so by reflection, and convergent rays are reflected either parallel, or less convergent. if then, an object be placed before any part of a convex mirror, as the vase a b, fig. , for instance, the two rays from its extremities, falling convergent on the mirror, will be reflected less convergent, and will not come to a focus, till they arrive at c; then an eye placed in the direction of the reflected rays, will see the image formed in (or rather behind) the mirror, at _a b_. _caroline._ but the reflected rays, do not appear to me to converge less than the incident rays. i should have supposed that, on the contrary, they converged more, since they meet in a point. _mrs. b._ they would unite sooner than they actually do, if they were not less convergent than the incident rays: for observe, that if the incident rays, instead of being reflected by the mirror, continued their course in their original direction, they would come to a focus at d, which is considerably nearer to the mirror than at c; the image, is, therefore, seen under a smaller angle than the object; and the more distant the latter is from the mirror, the smaller is the image reflected by it. you will now easily understand the nature of the reflection of concave mirrors. these are formed of a portion of the internal surface of a hollow sphere, and their peculiar property is to converge the rays of light. can you discover, caroline, in what direction the three parallel rays, a b, c d, e f, are reflected, which fall on the concave mirror, m n, (fig. .)? _caroline._ i believe i can. the middle ray is sent back in the same line, in which it arrives, that being the direction of the axis of the mirror; and the two others will be reflected obliquely, as they fall obliquely on the mirror. i must now draw two dotted lines perpendicular to their points of incidence, which will divide their angles of incidence and reflection; and in order that those angles may be equal, the two oblique rays must be reflected to l, where they will unite with the middle ray. _mrs. b._ very well explained. thus you see, that when any number of parallel rays fall on a concave mirror, they are all reflected to a focus: for in proportion as the rays are more distant from the axis of the mirror, they fall more obliquely upon it, and are more obliquely reflected; in consequence of which they come to a focus in the direction of the axis of the mirror, at a point equally distant from the centre, and the surface, of the sphere; and this point is not an imaginary focus, as happens with the convex mirror, but is the true focus at which the rays unite. _emily._ can a mirror form more than one focus, by reflecting rays? _mrs. b._ yes. if rays fall convergent on a concave mirror, (fig. ,) they are sooner brought to a focus, l, than parallel rays; their focus is, therefore, nearer to the mirror m n. divergent rays are brought to a more distant focus than parallel rays, as in figure , where the focus is at l; but what is called the true focus of mirrors, either convex or concave, is that of parallel rays, and is equally distant from the centre, and the surface of the spherical mirror. i shall now show you the real reflection of rays of light, by a metallic concave mirror. this is one made of polished tin, which i expose to the sun, and as it shines bright, we shall be able to collect the rays into a very brilliant focus. i hold a piece of paper where i imagine the focus to be situated; you may see by the vivid spot of light on the paper, how much the rays converge: but it is not yet exactly in the focus; as i approach the paper to that point, observe how the brightness of the spot of light increases, while its size diminishes. _caroline._ that must be occasioned by the rays approaching closer together. i think you hold the paper just in the focus now, the light is so small and dazzling--oh, mrs. b., the paper has taken fire! _mrs. b._ the rays of light cannot be concentrated, without, at the same time, accumulating a proportional quantity of heat: hence concave mirrors have obtained the name of burning mirrors. _emily._ i have often heard of the surprising effects of burning mirrors, and i am quite delighted to understand their nature. _caroline._ it cannot be the true focus of the mirror, at which the rays of the sun unite, for as they proceed from so large a body, they cannot fall upon the mirror parallel to each other. _mrs. b._ strictly speaking, they certainly do not. but when rays, come from such an immense distance as the sun, they may be considered as parallel: their point of union is, therefore, the true focus of the mirror, and there the image of the object is represented. now that i have removed the mirror out of the influence of the sun's rays, if i place a burning taper in the focus, how will its light be reflected? (fig. .) _caroline._ that, i confess, i cannot say. _mrs. b._ the ray which falls in the direction of the axis of the mirror, is reflected back in the same line; but let us draw two other rays from the focus, falling on the mirror at b and f; the dotted lines are perpendicular to those points, and the two rays will, therefore, be reflected to a and e. _caroline._ oh, now i understand it clearly. the rays which proceed from a light placed in the focus of a concave mirror fall divergent upon it, and are reflected, parallel. it is exactly the reverse of the former experiment, in which the sun's rays fell parallel on the mirror, and were reflected to a focus. _mrs. b._ yes: when the incident rays are parallel, the reflected rays converge to a focus; when, on the contrary, the incident rays proceed from the focus, they are reflected parallel. this is an important law of optics, and since you are now acquainted with the principles on which it is founded, i hope that you will not forget it. _caroline._ i am sure that we shall not. but, mrs. b., you said that the image was formed in the focus of a concave mirror; yet i have frequently seen glass concave mirrors, where the object has been represented within the mirror, in the same manner as in a convex mirror. _mrs. b._ that is the case only, when the object is placed between the mirror and its focus; the image then appears magnified behind the mirror, or, as you would say, within it. _caroline._ i do not understand why the image should be larger than the object. _mrs. b._ this results from the convergent property of the concave mirror. if an object, a b, (fig. .) be placed between the mirror and its focus, the rays from its extremities fall divergent on the mirror, and on being reflected, become less divergent, as if they proceeded from c: to an eye placed in that situation, the image will appear magnified behind the mirror at _a b_, since it is seen under a larger angle than the object. you now, i hope, understand the reflection of light by opaque bodies. at our next meeting, we shall enter upon another property of light, no less interesting, and which is called _refraction_. questions . (pg. ) what is meant by the angle of vision, or the visual angle? . (pg. ) why do objects of the same size appear smaller when distant, than when near? . (pg. ) why do not two objects, known to be equal in size, appear to differ, when at different distances from the eye? . (pg. ) how is this exemplified, by a house seen through a window? . (pg. ) why do rows of trees, forming an avenue, appear to approach as they recede from the eye, until they eventually seem to meet? . (pg. ) in drawing a view from nature, what do we copy? . (pg. ) what is the difference in sculpture, in this respect? . (pg. ) excepting the rays from an object enter the eye, under a certain angle, they cannot be seen; what must this angle exceed? . (pg. ) what two circumstances may cause the angle to be so small, as not to produce vision? . (pg. ) motion may be so slow as to become imperceptible, what is said on this point? . (pg. ) under what circumstances may a body, moving with great rapidity, appear to be at rest? . (pg. ) upon what does the real velocity of a body, depend? . (pg. ) what must be known, to enable us to ascertain the real space contained in a degree? . (pg. ) what is explained by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is said respecting the evidence afforded by our senses, and how do we correct the errors into which they would lead us? . (pg. ) an image of a visible object is formed upon the retina of each eye, why, therefore, are not objects seen double? . (pg. ) by what experiment can you prove that a separate image of an object is formed in each eye? . (pg. ) under what circumstances are objects seen double? . (pg. ) why is not the image of an object inverted in the common mirror? . (pg. ) your whole figure may be seen in a looking-glass, which is not more than half your height; how is this shown in fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) why is the image invisible to the person, when not standing directly before the glass? . (pg. ) in what situation may a second person see the image reflected? . (pg. ) in what direction will an object always appear to the eye? . (pg. ) how is this explained by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is it that reflects the rays in a looking-glass? . (pg. ) all opaque bodies reflect some light, why do they not all act as mirrors? . (pg. ) what substances form the most perfect mirrors, and for what reason? . (pg. ) what are the three kinds of mirrors usually employed for optical purposes? . (pg. ) how are the rays of light affected by them? . (pg. ) what is the form of a convex mirror, and how do parallel rays fall upon it, as represented in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is represented by the dotted line in the same figure? . (pg. ) explain by the figure, how the parallel rays will be reflected. . (pg. ) at what distance behind such a mirror, would an image, produced by parallel rays, be formed? . (pg. ) what is that point denominated? . (pg. ) what is meant by a focus? . (pg. ) why is the point behind the mirror, called the _imaginary focus_? . (pg. ) why does an object appear to be lessened by a convex mirror, (fig. .)? . (pg. ) what is a concave mirror, and what its peculiar property? . (pg. ) how are parallel rays reflected by a concave mirror, as explained by fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) where is the focus of parallel rays, in a concave mirror? . (pg. ) if rays fall on it convergent, how are they reflected? . (pg. ) how if divergent? . (pg. ) how, and why, may concave, become burning mirrors? . (pg. ) why may rays of light coming from the sun, be viewed as parallel to each other? . (pg. ) if a luminous body, as a burning taper, be placed in the focus of a concave mirror, how will the rays from it, be reflected? (fig. .) . (pg. ) what fact is explained by fig. , plate ? conversation xvi. on refraction and colours. transmission of light by transparent bodies. refraction. refraction by the atmosphere. refraction by a lens. refraction by the prism. of colour from the rays of light. of the colours of bodies. mrs. b. the refraction of light will furnish the subject of to-day's lesson. _caroline._ that is a property of which i have not the faintest idea. _mrs. b._ it is the effect which transparent mediums produce on light in its passage through them. opaque bodies, you know, reflect the rays, and transparent bodies transmit them; but it is found, that _if a ray, in passing from one medium, into another of different density, fall obliquely, it is turned out of its course. the ray of light is then said to be refracted._ _caroline._ it must then be acted on by some new power, otherwise it would not deviate from its first direction. _mrs. b._ the power which causes the deviation of the ray, appears to be the attraction of the denser medium. let us suppose the two mediums to be air, and water; if a ray of light passes from air, into water, it is more strongly attracted by the latter, on account of its superior density. _emily._ in what direction does the water attract the ray? _mrs. b._ the ray is attracted perpendicularly towards the water, in the same manner in which bodies are acted upon by gravity. if then a ray, a b, (fig. , plate .) fall perpendicularly on water, the attraction of the water acts in the same direction as the course of the ray: it will not, therefore, cause a deviation, and the ray will proceed straight on, to e. but if it fall obliquely, as the ray c b, the water will attract it out of its course. let us suppose the ray to have approached the surface of a denser medium, and that it there begins to be affected by its attraction; this attraction, if not counteracted by some other power, would draw it perpendicularly to the water, at b; but it is also impelled by its projectile force, which the attraction of the denser medium cannot overcome; the ray, therefore, acted on by both these powers, moves in a direction between them, and instead of pursuing its original course to d, or being implicitly guided by the water to e, proceeds towards f, so that the ray appears bent or broken. _caroline._ i understand that very well; and is not this the reason that oars appear bent in the water? _mrs. b._ it is owing to the refraction of the rays, reflected by the oar; but this is in passing from a dense, to a rare medium, for you know that the rays, by means of which you see the oar, pass from water into air. _emily._ but i do not understand why refraction takes place, when a ray passes from a dense into a rare medium; i should suppose that it would be less, attracted by the latter, than by the former. _mrs. b._ and it is precisely on that account that the ray is refracted. let the upper half of fig. , represent glass, and the lower half water, let c b represent a ray, passing obliquely from the glass, into water: glass, being the denser medium, the ray will be more strongly attracted by that which it leaves than by that which it enters. the attraction of the glass acts in the direction a b, while the impulse of projection would carry the ray to f; it moves, therefore, between these directions towards d. _emily._ so that a contrary refraction takes place, when a ray passes from a dense, into a rare medium. [illustration: plate xix.] _mrs. b._ the rule upon this subject is this; _when a ray of light passes from a rare into a dense medium, it is refracted towards the perpendicular; when from a dense into a rare medium, it is refracted from the perpendicular_. by the perpendicular is meant a line, at right angle with the refracting surface. this may be seen in fig. , and fig. , where the lines a e, are the perpendiculars. _caroline._ but does not the attraction of the denser medium affect the ray before it touches it? _mrs. b._ the distance at which the attraction of the denser medium acts upon a ray, is so small, as to be insensible; it appears, therefore, to be refracted only at the point at which it passes from one medium into the other. now that you understand the principle of refraction, i will show you the real refraction of a ray of light. do you see the flower painted at the bottom of the inside of this tea-cup? (fig. .) _emily._ yes.--but now you have moved it just out of sight; the rim of the cup hides it. _mrs. b._ do not stir. i will fill the cup with water, and you will see the flower again. _emily._ i do, indeed! let me try to explain this: when you drew the cup from me, so as to conceal the flower, the rays reflected by it, no longer met my eyes, but were directed above them; but now that you have filled the cup with water, they are refracted, and bent downwards when passing out of the water, into the air, so as again to enter my eyes. _mrs. b._ you have explained it perfectly: fig. . will help to imprint it on your memory. you must observe that when the flower becomes visible by the refraction of the ray, you do not see it in the situation which it really occupies, but the image of the flower appears higher in the cup; for as objects always appear to be situated in the direction of the rays which enter the eye, the flower will be seen at b, in the direction of the refracted ray. _emily._ then, when we see the bottom of a clear stream of water, the rays which it reflects, being refracted in their passage from the water into the air, will make the bottom appear higher than it really is. _mrs. b._ and the water will consequently appear more shallow. accidents have frequently been occasioned by this circumstance; and boys, who are in the habit of bathing, should be cautioned not to trust to the apparent shallowness of water, as it will always prove deeper than it appears. the refraction of light prevents our seeing the heavenly bodies in their real situation: the light they send to us being refracted in passing into the atmosphere, we see the sun and stars in the direction of the refracted ray; as described in fig. , plate ., the dotted line represents the extent of the atmosphere, above a portion of the earth, e b e: a ray of light coming from the sun s, falls obliquely on it, at a, and is refracted to b; then, since we see the object in the direction of the refracted ray, a spectator at b, will see an image of the sun at c, instead of its real situation, at s. _emily._ but if the sun were immediately over our heads, its rays, falling perpendicularly on the atmosphere, would not be refracted, and we should then see the real sun, in its true situation. _mrs. b._ you must recollect that the sun, is vertical only to the inhabitants of the torrid zone; its rays, therefore, are always refracted, in this latitude. there is also another obstacle to our seeing the heavenly bodies in their real situations: light, though it moves with extreme velocity, is about eight minutes and a quarter, in its passage from the sun to the earth; therefore, when the rays reach us, the sun must have quitted the spot he occupied on their departure; yet we see him in the direction of those rays, and consequently in a situation which he had abandoned eight minutes and a quarter, before. _emily._ when you speak of the sun's motion, you mean, i suppose, his apparent motion, produced by the diurnal motion of the earth? _mrs. b._ certainly; the effect being the same, whether it is our earth, or the heavenly bodies, which move: it is more easy to represent things as they appear to be, than as they really are. _caroline._ during the morning, then, when the sun is rising towards the meridian, we must (from the length of time the light is in reaching us) see an image of the sun below that spot which it really occupies. _emily._ but the refraction of the atmosphere, counteracting this effect, we may, perhaps, between the two, see the sun in its real situation. _caroline._ and in the afternoon, when the sun is sinking in the west, refraction, and the length of time which the light is in reaching the earth, will conspire to render the image of the sun, higher than it really is. _mrs. b._ the refraction of the sun's rays, by the atmosphere, prolongs our days, as it occasions our seeing an image of the sun, both before he rises, and after he sets; when below our horizon, he still shines upon the atmosphere, and his rays are thence refracted to the earth: so likewise we see an image of the sun, previously to his rising, the rays that fall upon the atmosphere being refracted to the earth. _caroline._ on the other hand, we must recollect that light is eight minutes and a quarter on its journey; so that, by the time it reaches the earth, the sun may, perhaps, have risen above the horizon. _emily._ pray, do not glass windows, refract the light? _mrs. b._ they do; but this refraction would not be perceptible, were the surfaces of the glass, perfectly flat and parallel, because, in passing through a pane of glass, the rays suffer two refractions, which, being in contrary directions, produce nearly the same effect as if no refraction had taken place. _emily._ i do not understand that. _mrs. b:_ fig. , plate , will make it clear to you: a a represents a thick pane of glass, seen edgeways. when the ray b approaches the glass, at c, it is refracted by it; and instead of continuing its course in the same direction, as the dotted line describes, it passes through the pane, to d; at that point returning into the air, it is again refracted by the glass, but in a contrary direction to the first refraction, and in consequence proceeds to e. now you must observe that the ray b c and the ray d e being parallel, the light does not appear to have suffered any refraction: the apparent, differing so little from the true place of any object, when seen through glass of ordinary thickness. _emily._ so that the effect which takes place on the ray entering the glass, is undone on its quitting it. or, to express myself more scientifically, when a ray of light passes from one medium into another, and through that into the first again, the two refractions being equal, and in opposite directions, no sensible effect is produced. _caroline._ i think the effect is very sensible, for, in looking through the glass of the window, i see objects very much distorted; articles which i know to be straight, appear bent and broken, and sometimes the parts seem to be separated to a distance from each other. _mrs. b._ that is because common window glass is not flat, its whole surface being uneven. rays from any object, falling upon it under different angles, are, consequently, refracted in various ways, and thus produce the distortion you have observed. _emily._ is it not in consequence of refraction, that the glasses in common spectacles, magnify objects seen through them? _mrs. b._ yes. glasses of this description are called _lenses_; of these, there are several kinds, the names of which it will be necessary for you to learn. every lens is formed of glass, ground so as to form a segment of a sphere, on one, or both sides. they are all represented at fig. , plate . the most common, is the _double convex_ lens, d. this is thick in the middle, and thin at the edges, like common spectacles, or reading glasses. a b, is a _plano-convex_ lens, being flat on one side, and convex on the other. e is a _double concave_, being, in all respects, the reverse of d. c is a _plano-concave_, flat on one side, and concave on the other. f is called a _meniscus_, or _concavo-convex_, being concave on one, and convex on the other side. a line passing through the centre of a lens, is called its _axis_. _caroline._ i should like to understand how the rays of light are refracted, by means of a lens. _mrs. b._ when parallel rays (fig. ) fall on a double convex _lens_, that only, which falls in the direction of the axis of the lens, is perpendicular to the surface; the other rays, falling obliquely, are refracted towards the axis, and will meet at a point beyond the lens, called its _focus_. of the three rays, a b c, which fall on the lens d e, the rays a and c are refracted in their passage through it, to _a_, and _c_; and on quitting the lens, they undergo a second refraction in the same direction, which unites them with the ray b, at the focus f. _emily._ and what is the distance of the focus, from the surface of the lens? _mrs. b._ the focal distance depends both upon the form of the lens, and on the refracting power of the substance of which it is made: in a glass lens, both sides of which are equally convex, the focus is situated nearly at the centre of the sphere, of which the surface of the lens forms a portion; it is at the distance, therefore, of the radius of the sphere. the property of those lenses which have a convex surface, is to collect the rays of light to a focus; and of those which have a concave surface, on the contrary, to disperse them. for the rays a and c, falling on the concave lens x y, (fig. , plate .) instead of converging towards the ray b, in the axis of the lens, will each be attracted towards the thick edges of the lens, both on entering and quitting it, and will, therefore, by the first refraction, be made to diverge to _a_, _c_, and by the seconds, to _d_, _e_. [illustration: plate xx.] _caroline._ and lenses which have one side flat, and the other convex, or concave, as a and b, (fig. , plate .) are, i suppose, less powerful in their refractions? _mrs. b._ yes; the focus of the plano-convex, is at the distance of the diameter of a sphere, of which the convex surface of the lens, forms a portion; as represented in figure , plate . the three parallel rays, a b c, are brought to a focus by the plano-convex lens, x y, at f. _emily._ you have not explained to us, mrs. b., how the lens serves to magnify objects. _mrs. b._ by turning again to fig. , plate . you will readily understand this. let a c, be an object placed before the lens, and suppose it to be seen by an eye at f; the ray from the point a, will be seen in the direction f g, that from c, in the direction f h; the visual angle, therefore, will be greatly increased, and the object must appear larger, in proportion. i must now explain to you the refraction of a ray of light, by a triangular piece of glass, called a prism. (fig. .) _emily._ the three sides of this glass are flat; it cannot, therefore, bring the rays to a focus; nor do i suppose that its refraction will be similar to that of a flat pane of glass, because it has not two sides parallel; i cannot, therefore, conjecture what effect the refraction by a prism, can produce. _mrs. b._ the refractions of the ray, both on entering and on quitting the prism, are in the same direction, (fig. .) on entering the prism p, the ray a is refracted from b to c, and on quitting it from c to d. in the first instance it is refracted towards, and in the last, from the perpendicular; each causing it to deviate in the same way, from its original course, a b. i will show you this by experiment; but for this purpose it will be advisable to close the window-shutters, and admit, through the small aperture, a ray of light, which i shall refract, by means of this prism. _caroline._ oh, what beautiful colours are represented on the opposite wall! there are all the colours of the rainbow, and with a brightness, i never saw equalled. (fig. , plate .) _emily._ i have seen an effect, in some respects similar to this, produced by the rays of the sun shining upon glass lustres; but how is it possible that a piece of white glass can produce such a variety of brilliant colours? _mrs. b._ the colours are not formed by the prism, but existed in the ray previously to its refraction. _caroline._ yet, before its refraction, it appeared perfectly white. _mrs. b._ the white rays of the sun, are composed of rays, which, when separated, produce all these colours, although when blended together, they appear colourless or white. sir isaac newton, to whom we are indebted for the most important discoveries respecting light and colours, was the first who divided a white ray of light, and found it to consist of an assemblage of coloured rays, which formed an image upon the wall, such as you now see exhibited, (fig. .) in which are displayed the following series of colours: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. _emily._ but how does a prism separate these coloured rays? _mrs. b._ by refraction. it appears that the coloured rays have different degrees of refrangibility; in passing through the prism, therefore, they take different directions according to their susceptibility of refraction. the violet rays deviate most from their original course; they appear at one of the ends of the spectrum, a b: contiguous to the violet, are the blue rays, being those which have somewhat less refrangibility; then follow, in succession, the green, yellow, orange, and lastly, the red, which are the least refrangible of the coloured rays. _caroline._ i cannot conceive how these colours, mixed together, can become white? _mrs. b._ that i cannot pretend to explain: but it is a fact that the union of these colours, in the proportions in which they appear in the spectrum, produce in us the idea of whiteness. if you paint a circular piece of card, in compartments, with these seven colours, as nearly as possible in the proportion, and of the shade exhibited in the spectrum, and whirl it rapidly on a pin, it will appear white; as the velocity of the motion, will have the effect of blending the colours, in the impression which they make upon the eye. but a more decisive proof of the composition of a white ray is afforded, by reuniting these coloured rays, and forming with them, a ray of white light. _caroline._ if you can take a ray of white light to pieces, and put it together again, i shall be quite satisfied. _mrs. b._ this can be done by letting the coloured rays, which have been separated by a prism, fall upon a lens, which will converge them to a focus; and if, when thus reunited, we find that they appear white as they did before refraction, i hope you will be convinced that the white rays, are a compound of the several coloured rays. the prism p, you see, (fig. .) separates a ray of white light, into seven coloured rays, and the lens l l brings them to a focus at f, where they again appear white. _caroline._ you succeed to perfection: this is indeed a most interesting and conclusive experiment. _emily._ yet, mrs. b., i cannot help thinking, that there may, perhaps, be but three distinct colours in the spectrum, red, yellow, and blue; and that the four others may consist of two of these colours blended together; for, in painting, we find, that by mixing red and yellow, we produce orange; with different proportions of red and blue, we make violet or any shade of purple; and yellow, and blue, form green. now, it is very natural to suppose, that the refraction of a prism, may not be so perfect as to separate the coloured rays of light completely, and that those which are contiguous, in order of refrangibility, may encroach on each other, and by mixing, produce the intermediate colours, orange, green, violet, and indigo. _mrs. b._ your observation is, i believe, neither quite wrong, nor quite right. dr. wollaston, who has performed many experiments on the refraction of light, in a more accurate manner than had been previously done, by receiving a very narrow line of light on a prism, found that it formed a spectrum, consisting of rays of four colours only; but they were not exactly those you have named as primitive colours, for they consisted of red, green, blue, and violet. a very narrow line of yellow was visible, at the limit of the red and green, which dr. wollaston attributed to the overlapping of the edges of the red and green light. _caroline._ but red and green mixed together, do not produce yellow? _mrs. b._ not in painting; but it may be so in the primitive rays of the spectrum. dr. wollaston observed, that, by increasing the breadth of the aperture, by which the line of light was admitted, the space occupied by each coloured ray in the spectrum, was augmented, in proportion as each portion encroached on the neighbouring colour, and mixed with it; so that the intervention of orange and yellow, between the red and green, is owing, he supposes, to the mixture of these two colours; and the blue is blended on the one side with the green, and on the other with the violet, forming the spectrum, as it was originally observed by sir isaac newton, and which i have just shown you. the rainbow, which exhibits a series of colours, so analogous to those of the spectrum, is formed by the refraction of the sun's rays, in their passage through a shower of rain; every drop of which acts as a prism, in separating the coloured rays as they pass through it; the combined effect of innumerable drops, produces the bow, which you know can be seen, only when there are both rain, and sunshine. _emily._ pray, mrs. b., cannot the sun's rays be collected to a focus by a lens, in the same manner as they are by a concave mirror? _mrs. b._ the same effect in concentrating the rays, is produced by the refraction with a lens, as by the reflection from a concave mirror: in the first, the rays pass through the glass and converge to a focus, behind it, in the latter, they are reflected from the mirror, and brought to a focus, before it. a lens, when used for the purpose of collecting the sun's rays, is called a burning glass. i have before explained to you, the manner in which a convex lens, refracts the rays, and brings them to a focus; (fig. , plate .) as these rays contain both light and heat, the latter, as well as the former, is refracted; and intense heat, as well as light, will be found in the focal point. the sun now shines very bright; if we let the rays fall on this lens, you will perceive the focus. _emily._ oh yes: the point of union of the rays, is very luminous. i will hold a piece of paper in the focus, and see if it will take fire. the spot of light is extremely brilliant, but the paper does not burn? _mrs. b._ try a piece of brown paper;--that, you see, takes fire almost immediately. _caroline._ this is surprising; for the light appeared to shine more intensely, on the white, than on the brown paper. _mrs. b._ the lens collects an equal number of rays to a focus, whether you hold the white or the brown paper, there; but the white paper appears more luminous in the focus, because most of the rays, instead of entering into the paper, are reflected by it; and this is the reason that the paper does not readily take fire: whilst, on the contrary, the brown paper, which absorbs more light and heat than it reflects, soon becomes heated and takes fire. _caroline._ this is extremely curious; but why should brown paper, absorb more rays, than white paper? _mrs. b._ i am far from being able to give a satisfactory answer to that question. we can form but mere conjecture on this point; it is supposed that the tendency to absorb, or reflect rays, depends on the arrangement of the minute particles of the body, and that this diversity of arrangement renders some bodies susceptible of reflecting one coloured ray, and absorbing the others; whilst other bodies, have a tendency to reflect all the colours, and others again, to absorb them all. _emily._ and how do you know which colours bodies have a tendency to reflect, or which to absorb? _mrs. b._ because a body always appears to be of the colour which it reflects; for, as we see only by reflected rays, it can appear of the colour of those rays, only. _caroline._ but we see all bodies of their own natural colour, mrs. b.; the grass and trees, green; the sky, blue; the flowers of various hues. _mrs. b._ true; but why is the grass green?--because it absorbs all, except the green rays; it is, therefore, these only which the grass and trees reflect to our eyes, and this makes them appear green. the flowers, in the same manner, reflect the various colours of which they appear to us; the rose, the red rays; the violet, the blue; the jonquil, the yellow, &c. _caroline._ but these are the permanent colours of the grass and flowers, whether the sun's rays shine on them or not. _mrs. b._ whenever you see those colours, the flowers must be illumined by some light; and light, from whatever source it proceeds, is of the same nature; composed of the various coloured rays which paint the grass, the flowers, and every coloured object in nature. _caroline._ but, mrs. b., the grass is green, and the flowers are coloured, whether in the dark, or exposed to the light? _mrs. b._ why should you think so? _caroline._ it cannot be otherwise. _mrs. b._ a most philosophical reason indeed! but, as i never saw them in the dark, you will allow me to dissent from your opinion. _caroline._ what colour do you suppose them to be, then, in the dark? _mrs. b._ none at all; or black, which is the same thing. you can never see objects, without light. white light is compounded of rays, from which all the colours in nature are produced; there, therefore, can be no colour without light; and though a substance is black, or without colour, in the dark, it may become coloured, as soon as it becomes visible. it is visible, indeed, only by the coloured rays which it reflects; therefore, we can see it only when coloured. _caroline._ all you say seems very true, and i know not what to object to it; yet it appears at the same time incredible! what, mrs. b., are we all as black as negroes in the dark? you make me shudder at the thought. _mrs. b._ your vanity need not be alarmed at the idea, as you are certain of never being seen, in that state. _caroline._ that is some consolation, undoubtedly; but what a melancholy reflection it is, that all nature which appears so beautifully diversified with colours, is really one uniform mass of blackness! _mrs. b._ is nature less pleasing for being coloured, as well as illumined, by the rays of light? and are colours less beautiful, for being accidental, rather than essential properties of bodies? providence seems to have decorated nature with the enchanting diversity of colours, which we so much admire, for the sole purpose of beautifying the scene, and rendering it a source of sensible gratification: it is an ornament which embellishes nature, whenever we behold her. what reason is there to regret, that she does not wear it when she is invisible? _emily._ i confess, mrs. b., that i have had my doubts, as well as caroline, though she has spared me the pains of expressing them: but i have just thought of an experiment, which, if it succeed, will, i am sure, satisfy us both. it is certain, that we cannot see bodies in the dark, to know whether they have then any colour. but we may place a coloured body in a ray of light, which has been refracted by a prism; and if your theory is true, the body, of whatever colour it naturally is, must appear of the colour of the ray in which it is placed; for since it receives no other coloured rays, it can reflect no others. _caroline._ oh! that is an excellent thought, emily; will you stand the test, mrs. b.? _mrs. b._ i consent: but we must darken the room, and admit only the ray which is to be refracted; otherwise, the white rays will be reflected on the body under trial, from various parts of the room. with what do you choose to make the experiment? _caroline._ this rose: look at it, mrs. b., and tell me whether it is possible to deprive it of its beautiful colour? _mrs. b._ we shall see.--i expose it first to the red rays, and the flower appears of a more brilliant hue; but observe the green leaves---- _caroline._ they appear neither red nor green; but of a dingy brown with a reddish glow? _mrs. b._ they cannot appear green, because they have no green rays to reflect; neither are they red, because green bodies absorb most of the red rays. but though bodies, from the arrangement of their particles, have a tendency to absorb some rays, and reflect others, yet it is not natural to suppose, that bodies are so perfectly uniform in their arrangement, as to reflect only pure rays of one colour, and perfectly to absorb the others; it is found, on the contrary, that a body reflects, in great abundance, the rays which determine its colour, and the others in a greater or less degree, in proportion as they are nearer to or further from its own colour, in the order of refrangibility. the green leaves of the rose, therefore, will reflect a few of the red rays, which, blended with their natural blackness, give them that brown tinge: if they reflected none of the red rays, they would appear perfectly black. now i shall hold the rose in the blue rays---- _caroline._ oh, emily, mrs. b. is right! look at the rose: it is no longer red, but of a dingy blue colour. _emily._ this is the most wonderful, of any thing we have yet learnt. but, mrs. b., what is the reason that the green leaves, are of a brighter blue than the rose? _mrs. b._ the green leaves reflect both blue and yellow rays, which produce a green colour. they are now in a coloured ray, which they have a tendency to reflect; they, therefore, reflect more of the blue rays than the rose, (which naturally absorbs that colour,) and will, of course, appear of a brighter blue. _emily._ yet, in passing the rose through the different colours of the spectrum, the flower takes them more readily than the leaves. _mrs. b._ because the flower is of a paler hue. bodies which reflect all the rays, are white; those which absorb them all, are black: between these extremes, bodies appear lighter or darker, in proportion to the quantity of rays they reflect or absorb. this rose is of a pale red; it approaches nearer to white than to black, and therefore, reflects rays, more abundantly than it absorbs them. _emily._ but if a rose has so strong a tendency to reflect rays, i should imagine that it would be of a deep red colour. _mrs. b._ i mean to say, that it has a general tendency to reflect rays. pale coloured bodies, reflect all the coloured rays to a certain degree, their paleness, being an approach towards whiteness: but they reflect one colour more than the rest: this predominates over the white, and determines the colour of the body. since, then, bodies of a pale colour, in some degree reflect all the rays of light, in passing through the various colours of the spectrum, they will reflect them all, with tolerable brilliancy; but will appear most vivid, in the ray of their natural colour. the green leaves, on the contrary, are of a dark colour, bearing a stronger resemblance to black, than to white; they have, therefore, a greater tendency to absorb, than to reflect rays; and reflecting very few of any, but the blue, and yellow rays, they will appear dingy, in passing through the other colours of the spectrum. _caroline._ they must, however, reflect great quantities of the green rays, to produce so deep a colour. _mrs. b._ deepness or darkness of colour, proceeds rather from a deficiency, than an abundance of reflected rays. remember, that if bodies reflected none of the rays, they would be black; and if a body reflects only a few green rays, it will appear of a dark green; it is the brightness, and intensity of the colour, which show that a great quantity of rays are reflected. _emily._ a white body, then, which reflects all the rays, will appear equally bright in all the colours of the spectrum. _mrs. b._ certainly. and this is easily proved by passing a sheet of white paper, through the rays of the spectrum. white, you perceive, results from a body reflecting all the rays which fall upon it; black, is produced, when they are all absorbed; and colour, arises from a body possessing the power to decompose the solar ray, by absorbing some parts, and reflecting others. _caroline._ what is the reason that articles which are blue, often appear green, by candle-light? _mrs. b._ the light of a candle, is not of so pure a white as that of the sun: it has a yellowish tinge, and when refracted by the prism, the yellow rays predominate; and blue bodies reflect some of the yellow rays, from their being next to the blue, in the order of refrangibility; the superabundance of yellow rays, which is supplied by the candle, gives to blue bodies, a greenish hue. _caroline._ candle-light must then give to all bodies, a yellowish tinge, from the excess of yellow rays; and yet it is a common remark, that people of a sallow complexion, appear fairer, or whiter, by candle-light. _mrs. b._ the yellow cast of their complexion is not so striking, when every surrounding object has a yellow tinge. _emily._ pray, why does the sun appear red, through a fog? [illustration: plate xxi.] _mrs. b._ it is supposed to be owing to the rays, which are most refrangible, being also the most easily reflected: in passing through an atmosphere, loaded with moisture, as in foggy weather, and also in the morning and evening, when mists prevail, the _violet_, _indigo_, _blue_, and _green_ rays, are reflected back by the particles which load the air; whilst the _yellow_, _orange_, and _red_ rays, being less susceptible of reflection, pass on, and reach the eye. _caroline._ and, pray, why is the sky of a blue colour? _mrs. b._ you should rather say, the atmosphere; for the sky is a very vague term, the meaning of which, it would be difficult to define, philosophically. _caroline._ but the colour of the atmosphere should be white, since all the rays traverse it, in their passage to the earth. _mrs. b._ do not forget that the direct rays of light which pass from the sun to the earth, do not meet our eyes, excepting when we are looking at that luminary, and thus intercept them; in which case, you know, that the sun appears white. the atmosphere is a transparent medium, through which the sun's rays pass freely to the earth; but the particles of which it is composed, also reflect the rays of light, and it appears that they possess the property of reflecting the blue rays, the most copiously: the light, therefore, which is reflected back into the atmosphere, from the surface of the earth, falls upon these particles of air, and the blue rays are returned by reflection: this reflection is performed in every possible direction; so that whenever we look at the atmosphere, some of these rays fall upon our eyes; hence we see the air of a blue colour. if the atmosphere did not reflect any rays, though the objects, on the surface of the earth, would be illuminated, the sky would appear perfectly black. _caroline._ oh, how melancholy would that be; and how pernicious to the sight, to be constantly viewing bright objects against a black sky. but what is the reason that bodies often change their colour; as leaves, which wither in autumn, or a spot of ink, which produces an iron-mould on linen? _mrs. b._ it arises from some chemical change, which takes place in the arrangement of the component parts; by which they lose their tendency to reflect certain colours, and acquire the power of reflecting others. a withered leaf thus no linger reflects the blue rays; it appears, therefore, yellow, or has a slight tendency to reflect several rays, which produce a dingy brown colour. an ink spot on linen, at first absorbs all the rays; but, from the action of soap, or of some other agent, it undergoes a chemical change, and the spot partially regains its tendency to reflect colours, but with a preference to reflect the yellow rays, and such is the colour of the iron-mould. _emily._ bodies, then, far from being of the colour which they appear to possess, are of that colour to which they have the greatest aversion, with which they will not incorporate, but reject, and drive from them. _mrs. b._ it certainly is so; though i scarcely dare venture to advance such an opinion, whilst caroline is contemplating her beautiful rose. _caroline._ my poor rose! you are not satisfied with depriving it of colour, but even make it have an aversion to it; and i am unable to contradict you. _emily._ since dark bodies, absorb more solar rays than light ones, the former should sooner be heated if exposed to the sun? _mrs. b._ and they are found, by experience, to be so. have you never observed a black dress, to be warmer than a white one? _emily._ yes, and a white one more dazzling: the black is heated by absorbing the rays, the white is dazzling, by reflecting them. _caroline._ and this was the reason that the brown paper was burnt in the focus of the lens, whilst the white paper exhibited the most luminous spot, but did not take fire. _mrs. b._ it was so. it is now full time to conclude our lesson. at our next meeting, i shall give you a description of the eye. questions . (pg. ) what is meant by the refraction of light? . (pg. ) what is believed to be the cause of refraction? . (pg. ) how is a ray refracted in passing obliquely from air into water? . (pg. ) how is this refraction explained in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is fig. intended to explain? . (pg. ) what is the rule respecting refraction, by different mediums? . (pg. ) what is meant by the perpendicular? . (pg. ) how does fig. , plate , elucidate the law of refraction? . (pg. ) what will be the effect on the apparent situation of the flower? . (pg. ) what effect has refraction upon the apparent depth of a stream of water? . (pg. ) how does the atmosphere refract the rays of the sun, as represented, fig. ? . (pg. ) why have we the rays of the sun always refracted? . (pg. ) what length of time is required for light to travel from the sun, to the earth? . (pg. ) what effect has this upon his apparent place? . (pg. ) how is the length of the day affected by refraction? . (pg. ) how are rays refracted, which fall obliquely upon a flat pane of glass, (fig. , plate ?) . (pg. ) what is the reason that objects are distorted, when seen through common window glass? . (pg. ) what is meant by a lens? . (pg. ) what are the five kinds called, represented at fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is meant by the axis of a lens? . (pg. ) how are parallel rays, refracted by the double convex lens, fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is meant by the focus of a lens? . (pg. ) what is the focal distance of parallel rays, from a double convex lens? . (pg. ) how are the rays refracted by a concave lens, fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is the effect of one plane side in a lens? . (pg. ) how is the focus of the plano-convex lens situated, fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how does a convex lens magnify objects, fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) what is the article denominated which is represented at fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) how will a ray be refracted, which enters on one side of the prism, in the direction a b? . (pg. ) what effect is produced by this refraction, as represented in fig. , plate ? . (pg. ) of what are the rays of white light said to be composed? . (pg. ) what colours are produced? . (pg. ) by what property, in light, does refraction enable us to separate these different rays? . (pg. ) what experiment may be performed with a piece of card, so as to exemplify the compound nature of light? . (pg. ) how can the same be shown by a lens, fig. . plate ? . (pg. ) is it certain that there are seven primitive colours in the spectrum? . (pg. ) how is the rainbow produced, and what is necessary to its production? . (pg. ) how are the solar rays affected by a convex lens? . (pg. ) why is such a lens, called a burning glass? . (pg. ) why are bodies of a dark colour, more readily inflamed, than those which are white? . (pg. ) what is believed to be the reason, why some bodies absorb more rays than others? . (pg. ) what determines the colour of any particular body? . (pg. ) what exemplifications are given? . (pg. ) by what reasoning is it proved, that bodies do not retain their colours in the dark? . (pg. ) what proof of the truth of this theory of colours, may be afforded by the prism? . (pg. ) why will green leaves, when exposed to the red ray, appear of a dingy brown? . (pg. ) bodies, in general, when placed in a ray differing in colour from their own, appear of a mixed hue, what causes this? . (pg. ) why will bodies of a pale, or light hue, most perfectly, assume the different colours of the spectrum? . (pg. ) upon what property in a body, does the darkness of its colour depend? . (pg. ) why do some bodies appear white, others black, and others of different colours? . (pg. ) from what cause do blue articles appear green, by candle-light? . (pg. ) what is believed to be the cause, of the red appearance of the sun, through a fog, or misty atmosphere? . (pg. ) from what is the blue colour of the sky, thought to arise? . (pg. ) what would be the colour of the sky, did not the atmosphere reflect light? . (pg. ) from what cause do some bodies change their colour, as leaves formerly green, become brown, and ink, yellow? . (pg. ) why is a black dress, warmer in the sunshine, than a white one of the same texture? conversation xvii. on the structure of the eye, and optical instruments. description of the eye. of the image on the retina. refraction by the humours of the eye. of the use of spectacles. of the single microscope. of the double microscope. of the solar microscope. magic lanthorn. refracting telescope. reflecting telescope. mrs. b. the body of the eye, is of a spherical form: (fig. . plate .) it has two membranous coats, or coverings; the external one, _a a a_, is called the sclerotica, this is commonly known under the name of the white of the eye; it has a projection in that part of the eye which is exposed to view, _b b_, which is called the transparent cornea, because, when dried, it has nearly the consistence of very fine horn, and is sufficiently transparent for the light to obtain free passage through it. the second membrane which lines the cornea, and envelops the eye, is called the choroid, _c c c_; this has an opening in front, just beneath the cornea, which forms the pupil, or sight of the eye, _d d_, through which the rays of light pass into the eye. the pupil is surrounded by a coloured border called the iris, _e e_, which, by its muscular motion, always preserves the pupil of a circular form, whether it is expanded in the dark, or contracted by a strong light. this you will understand better by examining fig. . _emily._ i did not know that the pupil was susceptible of varying its dimensions. _mrs. b._ the construction of the eye is so admirable, that it is capable of adapting itself, more or less, to the circumstances in which it is placed. in a faint light, the pupil dilates so as to receive an additional quantity of rays, and in a strong light, it contracts, in order to prevent the intensity of the light from injuring the optic nerve. observe emily's eyes, as she sits looking towards the windows: the pupils appear very small, and the iris, large. now, emily, turn from the light, and cover your eyes with your hand, so as entirely to exclude it, for a few moments. _caroline._ how very much the pupils of her eyes are now enlarged, and the iris diminished! this is, no doubt, the reason why the eyes suffer pain, when from darkness, they suddenly come into a strong light; for the pupil being dilated, a quantity of rays must rush in, before it has time to contract. _emily._ and when we go from a strong light, into obscurity, we at first imagine ourselves in total darkness; for a sufficient number of rays cannot gain admittance into the contracted pupil, to enable us to distinguish objects: but in a few minutes it dilates, and we clearly perceive objects which were before invisible. _mrs. b._ it is just so. the choroid _c c_, is embued with a black liquor, which serves to absorb all the rays that are irregularly reflected, and to convert the body of the eye, into a more perfect camera obscura. when the pupil is expanded to its utmost extent, it is capable of admitting ten times the quantity of light, that it does when most contracted. in cats, and animals which are said to see in the dark, the power of dilatation and contraction of the pupil, is still greater; it is computed that the pupils of their eyes may admit one hundred times more light at one time than at another. within these coverings of the eye-ball, are contained, three transparent substances, called humours. the first occupies the space immediately behind the cornea, and is called the aqueous humour, _f f_, from its liquidity and its resemblance to water. beyond this, is situated the crystalline humour, _g g_, so called from its clearness and transparency: it has the form of a lens, and refracts the rays of light in a greater degree of perfection, than any that have been constructed by art: it is attached by two muscles, _m m_, to each side of the choroid. the back part of the eye, between the crystalline humour and the retina, is filled by the vitreous humour, _h h_, which derives its name from a resemblance it is supposed to bear, to glass, or vitrified substances. [illustration: plate xxii.] the membranous coverings of the eye are intended chiefly for the preservation of the retina, _i i_, which is by far the most important part of the eye, as it is that which receives the impression of the objects of sight, and conveys it to the mind. the retina is formed by the expansion of the optic nerve, and is of a most perfect whiteness: this nerve proceeds from the brain, enters the eye, at _n_, on the side next the nose, and is finely spread over the interior surface of the choroid. the rays of light which enter the eye, by the pupil, are refracted by the several humours in their passage through them, and unite in a focus on the retina. _caroline._ i do not understand the use of these refracting humours: the image of objects was represented in the camera obscura, without any such assistance. _mrs. b._ that is true; but the representation became much more strong and distinct, when we enlarged the opening of the camera obscura, and received the rays into it, through a lens. i have told you, that rays proceed from bodies in all possible directions. we must, therefore, consider every part of an object which sends rays to our eyes, as points from which the rays diverge, as from a centre. _emily._ these divergent rays, issuing from a single point, i believe you told us, were called a pencil of rays? _mrs. b._ yes. now, divergent rays, on entering the pupil, do not cross each other; the pupil, however, is sufficiently large to admit a small pencil of them; and these, if not refracted to a focus, by the humours, would continue diverging after they had passed the pupil, would fall dispersed upon the retina, and thus the image of a single point, would be expanded over a large portion of the retina. the divergent rays from every other point of the object, would be spread over a similar extent of space, and would interfere and be confounded with the first; so that no distinct image could be formed, and the representation on the retina would be confused, both in figure and colour. fig. . represents two pencils of rays, issuing from two points of the tree, a b, and entering the pupil c, refracted by the crystalline humour d, and forming on the retina, at _a b_, distinct images of the spot they proceed from. fig. . differs from the preceding, merely from not being supplied with a lens; in consequence of which, the pencils of rays are not refracted to a focus, and no distinct image is formed on the retina. i have delineated only the rays issuing from two points of an object, and distinguished the two pencils in fig. . by describing one of them with dotted lines: the interference of these two pencils of rays on the retina, will enable you to form an idea of the confusion which would arise, from thousands and millions of points, at the same instant pouring their divergent rays upon the retina. _emily._ true; but i do not yet well understand, how the refracting humours, remedy this imperfection. _mrs. b._ the refraction of these several humours, unites the whole of a pencil of rays, proceeding from any one point of an object, to a corresponding point on the retina, and the image is thus rendered distinct and strong. if you conceive, in fig. ., every point of the tree to send forth a pencil of rays, similar to those from a b, every part of the tree will be as accurately represented on the retina, as the points _a b_. _emily._ how admirably, how wonderfully, is this contrived! _caroline._ but since the eye absolutely requires refracting humours, in order to have a distinct representation formed on the retina, why is not the same refraction equally necessary, for the images formed in the camera obscura? _mrs. b._ it is; excepting the aperture through which we receive the rays into the camera obscura, is extremely small; so that but very few of the rays diverging from a point, gain admittance; but when we enlarged the aperture, and furnished it with a lens, you found the landscape more perfectly represented. _caroline._ i remember how obscure and confused the image was, when you enlarged the opening, without putting in the lens. _mrs. b._ such, or very similar, would be the representation on the retina, unassisted by the refracting humours. you will now be able to understand the nature of that imperfection of sight, which arises from the eyes being too prominent. in such cases, the crystalline humour, d, (fig. .) being extremely convex, refracts the rays too much, and collects a pencil, proceeding from the object a b, into a focus, f, before they reach the retina. from this focus, the rays proceed, diverging, and consequently form a very confused image on the retina, at _a b_. this is the defect in short-sighted people. _emily._ i understand it perfectly. but why is this defect remedied by bringing the object nearer to the eye, as we find to be the case with short-sighted people? _mrs. b._ the nearer you bring an object to your eye, the more divergent the rays fall upon the crystalline humour, and consequently they are not so soon converged to a focus: this focus, therefore, either falls upon the retina, or at least approaches nearer to it, and the object is proportionally distinct, as in fig. . _emily._ the nearer, then, you bring an object to a lens, the further the image recedes behind it. _mrs. b._ certainly. but short-sighted persons have another resource, for objects which they can not bring near to their eyes; this is, to place a concave lens, c d, (fig. , plate .) before the eye, in order to increase the divergence of the rays. the effect of a concave lens, is, you know, exactly the reverse of a convex one: it renders parallel rays divergent, and those which are already divergent, still more so. by the assistance of such glasses, therefore, the rays from a distant object, fall on the pupil, as divergent as those from a less distant object; and, with short-sighted people, they throw the image of a distant object, back, as far as the retina. _caroline._ this is an excellent contrivance, indeed. _mrs. b._ and tell me, what remedy would you devise for such persons as have a contrary defect in their sight; that is to say, who are long-sighted, in whom the crystalline humour, being too flat, does not refract the rays sufficiently, so that they reach the retina before they are converged to a point? _caroline._ i suppose that a contrary remedy must be applied to this defect; that is to say, a convex lens, l m, fig. , to make up for the deficiency of convexity of the crystalline humour, o p. for the convex lens would bring the rays nearer together, so that they would fall, either less divergent, or parallel, on the crystalline humour; and, by being sooner converged to a focus, would fall on the retina. _mrs. b._ very well, caroline. this is the reason why elderly people, the humours of whose eyes are decayed by age, are under the necessity of using convex spectacles. and when deprived of that resource, they hold the object at a distance from their eyes, as in fig. , in order to bring the focus more forward. _caroline._ i have often been surprised, when my grandfather reads without his spectacles, to see him hold the book at a considerable distance from his eyes. but i now understand the cause; the more distant the object is from the crystalline lens, the nearer to it, will the image be formed. _emily._ i comprehend the nature of these two opposite defects very well; but i cannot now conceive, how any sight can be perfect: for, if the crystalline humour is of a proper degree of convexity, to bring the image of distant objects to a focus on the retina, it will not represent near objects distinctly; and if, on the contrary, it is adapted to give a clear image of near objects, it will produce a very imperfect one, of distant objects. _mrs. b._ your observation is very good, emily; and it is true, that every person would be subject to one of these two defects, if we had it not in our power to adapt the eye, to the distance of the object; it is believed that this is accomplished, by our having a command over the crystalline lens, so as to project it towards, or draw it back from the object, as circumstances require, by means of the two muscles, to which the crystalline humour is attached; so that the focus of the rays, constantly falls on the retina, and an image is formed equally distinct, either of distant objects, or of those which are near. _caroline._ in the eyes of fishes, which are the only eyes i have ever seen separate from the head, the cornea does not protrude, in that part of the eye which is exposed to view. _mrs. b._ the cornea of the eye of a fish is not more convex than the rest of the ball of the eye; but to supply this deficiency, their crystalline humour is spherical, and refracts the rays so much, that it does not require the assistance of the cornea to bring them to a focus on the retina. _emily._ pray, what is the reason that we cannot see an object distinctly, if we place it very near to the eye? _mrs. b._ because the rays fall on the crystalline humour, too divergent to be refracted to a focus on the retina; the confusion, therefore, arising from viewing an object too near the eye, is similar to that which proceeds from a flattened crystalline humour; the rays reach the retina before they are collected to a focus, (fig. .) if it were not for this imperfection, we should be able to see and distinguish the parts of objects, which, from their minuteness, are now invisible to us; for, could we place them very near the eye, the image on the retina would be so much magnified, as to render them visible. _emily._ and could there be no contrivance, to convey the rays of objects viewed, close to the eye, so that they should be refracted to a focus on the retina? _mrs. b._ the microscope is constructed for this purpose. the single microscope (fig. .) consists simply of a convex lens, commonly called a magnifying glass; in the focus of which the object is placed, and through which it is viewed: by this means, you are enabled to place your eye very near to the object, for the lens a b, by diminishing the divergence of the rays, before they enter the pupil c, makes them fall parallel on the crystalline humour d, by which they are refracted to a focus on the retina, at r r. _emily._ this is a most admirable invention, and nothing can be more simple; for the lens magnifies the object, merely by allowing us to bring it nearer to the eye. [illustration: plate xxiii.] _mrs. b._ those lenses, therefore, which have the shortest focus will magnify the object most, because they enable us to place it nearest to the eye. _emily._ but a lens, that has the shortest focus, is most bulging or convex; and the protuberance of the lens will prevent the eye from approaching very near to the object. _mrs. b._ this is remedied by making the lens extremely small: it may then be spherical without occupying much space, and thus unite the advantages of a short focus, and of allowing the eye to approach the object. there is a mode of magnifying objects, without the use of a lens: if you look through a hole, not larger than a small pin, you may place a minute object near to the eye, and it will be distinct, and greatly enlarged. this piece of tin has been perforated for the purpose; place it close to your eye, and this small print before it. _caroline._ astonishing! the letters appear ten times as large as they do without it: i cannot conceive how this effect is produced. _mrs. b._ the smallness of the hole, prevents the entrance into the eye, of those parts of every pencil of rays which diverge much; so that, notwithstanding the nearness of the object, those rays from it, which enter the eye, are nearly parallel, and are, therefore, brought to a focus by the humours of the eye. _caroline._ we have a microscope at home, which is a much more complicated instrument than that you have described. _mrs. b._ it is a double microscope, (fig. .) in which you see, not the object a b, but a magnified image of it, _a b_. in this microscope, two lenses are employed; the one, l m, for the purpose of magnifying the object, is called the object-glass, the other, n o, acts on the principle of the single microscope, and is called the eye-glass. there is another kind of microscope, called the solar microscope, which is the most wonderful from its great magnifying power: in this we also view an image formed by a lens, not the object itself. as the sun shines, i can show you the effect of this microscope; but for this purpose, we must close the shutters, and admit only a small portion of light, through the hole in the window-shutter, which we used for the camera obscura. we shall now place the object a b, (plate , fig. .) which is a small insect, before the lens c d, and nearly at its focus: the image e f, will then be represented on the opposite wall, in the same manner, as the landscape was in the camera obscura; with this difference, that it will be magnified, instead of being diminished. i shall leave you to account for this, by examining the figure. _emily._ i see it at once. the image e f is magnified, because it is farther from the lens, than the object a b; while the representation of the landscape was diminished, because it was nearer the lens, than the landscape was. a lens, then, answers the purpose equally well, either for magnifying or diminishing objects? _mrs. b._ yes: if you wish to magnify the image, you place the object near the focus of the lens; if you wish to produce a diminished image, you place the object at a distance from the lens, in order that the image may be formed in, or near the focus. _caroline._ the magnifying power of this microscope is prodigious: but the indistinctness of the image, for want of light, is a great imperfection. would it not be clearer, if the opening in the shutter were enlarged, so as to admit more light? _mrs. b._ if the whole of the light admitted, does not fall upon the object, the effect will only be to make the room lighter, and the image consequently less distinct. _emily._ but could you not by means of another lens, bring a large pencil of rays to a focus on the object, and thus concentrate upon it the whole of the light admitted? _mrs. b._ very well. we shall enlarge the opening, and place the lens x y (fig. .) in it, to converge the rays to a focus on the object a b. there is but one thing more wanting to complete the solar microscope, which i shall leave to caroline's sagacity to discover. _caroline._ our microscope has a small mirror attached to it, upon a moveable joint, which can be so adjusted as to receive the sun's rays, and reflect them upon the object: if a similar mirror were placed to reflect light upon the lens, would it not be a means of illuminating the object more perfectly? _mrs. b._ you are quite right. p q (fig. .) is a small mirror, placed on the outside of the window-shutter, which receives the incident rays s s, and reflects them on the lens x y. now that we have completed the apparatus, let us examine the mites on this piece of cheese, which i place near the focus of the lens. _caroline._ oh, how much more distinct the image now is, and how wonderfully magnified! the mites on the cheese look like a drove of pigs scrambling over rocks. _emily._ i never saw any thing so curious. now, an immense piece of cheese has fallen: one might imagine it an earthquake: some of the poor mites must have been crushed; how fast they run--they absolutely seem to gallop. but this microscope can be used only for transparent objects; as the light must pass through them, to form the image on the wall? _mrs. b._ very minute objects, such as are viewed in a microscope, are generally transparent, but when opaque objects are to be exhibited, a mirror m n (fig. .) is used to reflect the light on the side of the object next the wall: the image is then formed by light reflected from the object, instead of being transmitted through it. _emily._ pray, is not a magic lanthorn constructed on the same principles? _mrs. b._ yes, with this difference; the objects to be magnified, are painted upon pieces of glass, and the light is supplied by a lamp, instead of the sun. the microscope is an excellent invention to enable us to see and distinguish objects, which are too small to be visible to the naked eye. but there are objects, which, though not really small, appear so to us, from their distance; to these, we cannot apply the same remedy; for when a house is so far distant, as to be seen under the same angle as a mite which is close to us, the effect produced on the retina is the same: the angle it subtends is not large enough for it to form a distinct image on the retina. _emily._ since it is impossible, in this case, to make the object approach the eye, cannot we by means of a lens bring an image of it, nearer to us? _mrs. b._ yes; but then the object being very distant from the focus of the lens, the image would be too small to be visible to the naked eye. _emily._ then, why not look at the image through another lens, which will act as a microscope, enable us to bring the image close to the eye, and thus render it visible? _mrs. b._ very well, emily; i congratulate you on having invented a telescope. in figure , the lens c d, forms an image e f, of the object a b; and the lens x y, serves the purpose of magnifying that image; and this is all that is required in a common refracting telescope. _emily._ but in fig. , the image is not inverted on the retina, as objects usually are: it should therefore appear to us inverted; and that is not the case in the telescopes i have looked through. _mrs. b._ when it is necessary to represent the image erect, two other lenses are required; by which means a second image is formed, the reverse of the first, and consequently upright. these additional glasses are used to view terrestrial objects; for no inconvenience arises from seeing the celestial bodies inverted. _emily._ the difference between a microscope and a telescope, seems to be this:--a microscope produces a magnified image, because the object is nearest the lens; and a telescope produces a diminished image, because the object is furthest from the lens. _mrs. b._ your observation applies only to the lens c d, or object-glass, which serves to bring an image of the object nearer the eye; for the lens x y, or eye-glass, is, in fact, a microscope, as its purpose is to magnify the image. when a very great magnifying power is required, telescopes are constructed with concave mirrors, instead of lenses. these are called reflecting telescopes, because the image is reflected by metallic mirrors. concave mirrors, you know, produce by reflection, an effect similar to that of convex lenses, by refraction. in reflecting telescopes, therefore, mirrors are used in order to bring the image nearer the eye; and a lens, or eye-glass, the same as in the refracting telescope, to magnify the image. the advantage of the reflecting telescope is, that mirrors whose focus is six feet, will magnify as much as lenses of a hundred feet: an instrument of this kind may, therefore, possess a high magnifying power, and yet be so short, as to be readily managed. _caroline._ but i thought it was the eye-glass only which magnified the image; and that the other lens, served to bring a diminished image nearer to the eye. _mrs. b._ the image is diminished in comparison with the object, it is true; but it is magnified, if you compare it to the dimensions of which it would appear without the intervention of any optical instrument; and this magnifying power is greater in reflecting, than in refracting telescopes. we must now bring our observations to a conclusion, for i have communicated to you the whole of my very limited stock of knowledge of natural philosophy. if it enable you to make further progress in that science, my wishes will be satisfied; but remember, in order that the study of nature may be productive of happiness, it must lead to an entire confidence in the wisdom and goodness of its bounteous author. questions . (pg. ) what is the form of the body of the eye? fig. , plate . . (pg. ) what is its external coat called? . (pg. ) what is the transparent part of this coat denominated? . (pg. ) what is the second coat named? . (pg. ) what opening is there in this? . (pg. ) what is the coloured part which surrounds the pupil? . (pg. ) the pupils dilate and contract, what purpose does this answer? . (pg. ) how could you observe the dilatation and contraction of the pupils? . (pg. ) what purpose is the choroid said to answer? . (pg. ) in what animals is the change in the iris greatest? . (pg. ) what are the three humours denominated, and how are they situated? . (pg. ) what is the part represented at _i i_, and of what does it consist? . (pg. ) what are the respective uses of the humours, and of the retina? . (pg. ) why is it necessary the rays should be refracted? . (pg. ) how is this illustrated by fig. and , plate ? . (pg. ) what causes a person to be short-sighted? fig. , plate . . (pg. ) why does placing an object near the eye, enable such, to see distinctly? fig. . . (pg. ) a concave lens remedies this defect; how? fig. , plate . . (pg. ) what is the remedy, when a person is long-sighted? fig. . . (pg. ) why does holding an object far from the eye, help such persons? fig. . . (pg. ) how is the eye said to adapt itself to distant, and to near objects? . (pg. ) why are objects rendered indistinct, when placed very near to the eye? fig. , plate . . (pg. ) what is the single microscope, fig. , and how does it magnify objects? . (pg. ) how may objects be magnified without the aid of a lens? . (pg. ) why can an object, very near to the eye, be distinctly seen, when viewed through a small hole? . (pg. ) describe the double microscope, as represented in fig. , plate . . (pg. ) how does the solar microscope, (fig. plate .) operate? . (pg. ) why may minute objects be greatly magnified by this instrument? . (pg. ) in its more perfect form it has other appendages, as seen in fig. , what are they? and what their uses? . (pg. ) what is added when opaque objects are to be viewed? fig. . . (pg. ) in what does the magic lanthorn differ from the solar microscope? . (pg. ) what are the use and structure of the telescope, as shown in fig. ? . (pg. ) when terrestrial objects are to be viewed, why are two additional lenses employed? . (pg. ) what part of the telescope performs the part of a microscope? . (pg. ) in what does the reflecting, differ from the refracting telescope? . (pg. ) what advantages, do reflecting, possess over refracting telescopes? glossary. accelerated motion. motion is said to be accelerated, when the velocity is continually increasing. accidental properties. those properties of bodies which are liable to change, as colour, form, &c. acute.--see angle. air. an elastic fluid. the atmosphere which surrounds the earth, is generally understood by this term, but there are many kinds of air. the term is synonymous with _gas_. air pump. an instrument by which vessels may be exhausted of air. altitude. the height in degrees of the sun, or any heavenly body, above the horizon. angle. the space contained between two lines inclined to each other, and which meet in a point. angles are measured in degrees, upon a segment of a circle described by placing one leg of a pair of compasses on the angular point, and with the other, describing the segment between the two lines. if the segment be exactly - th of a circle, it is called a _right_ angle, and contains deg. if more than - th of a circle, it is an _obtuse_ angle. if less, an _acute_ angle. see plate . angle of incidence, is the space contained between a ray which falls obliquely upon a body, and a line perpendicular to the surface of the body, at the point where the ray falls. angle of reflection. the space contained between a reflected ray, and a line perpendicular to the reflecting point. angle of vision, or visual angle. the space contained between lines drawn from the extreme parts of any object, and meeting in the eye. antarctic circle. a circle extending round the south pole, at the distance of - degrees from it. the same as the south frigid zone. aphelion. that part of the orbit of a planet, in which its distance from the sun is the greatest. area. the surface enclosed between the lines which form the boundary of any figure, whether regular or irregular. aries. see sign. asteroids. the name given to the four small planets, ceres, juno, pallas, and vesta. astronomy. the science which treats of the motion and other phenomena of the sun, the planets, the stars, and the other heavenly bodies. atmosphere. the air which surrounds the earth, extending to an unknown height. wind is this air in motion. attraction. a tendency in bodies to approach each other, and to exist in contact. attraction of cohesion. that attraction which causes matter to remain in masses, preventing them from falling into powder. for this attraction to exist, the particles must be contiguous. attraction of gravitation. by this attraction, masses of matter, placed at a distance, have a tendency to approach each other. attraction is mutual between the sun and the planets. axis of the earth, or of any of the planets. an imaginary line passing through their centres, and terminating at their poles; round this their diurnal revolutions are performed. axis of motion. the imaginary line, around which all the parts of a body revolve, when it has a spinning motion. axis of a lens, or mirror. a line passing through the centre of a lens, or mirror, in a direction perpendicular to its surface. balloon. any hollow globe. the term is generally applied to those which are made to ascend in the air. barometer. commonly called a weather-glass. it has a glass tube, containing quicksilver, which by rising and falling, indicates any change in the pressure of the atmosphere, and thus frequently warns us of changes in the weather. body. the same as _matter_. it may exist in the solid, liquid, or æriform state; and includes every thing with which we become acquainted by the aid of the senses. burning-glass, or mirror. a lens, or a mirror, by which the rays of light, and heat, are brought to a focus, so as to set bodies on fire. camera obscura, a darkened room; or more frequently a box, admitting light by one opening, where a lens is placed; which, bringing the rays of light, from external objects, to a focus, presents a perfect picture of them, in miniature. capillary tubes. tubes, the bore of which is very small. glass tubes are usually employed, to show the phenomenon of _capillary attraction_. fluids in which they are immersed, rise in such tubes above the level of that in the containing vessel. centre of a circle. a point, equally distant from every part of its circumference. centre of gravity. that point within a body, to which all its particles tend, and around which they exactly balance each other. a system of bodies, as the planets, may have a common centre of gravity, around which they revolve in their orbits; whilst each, like the earth, has its particular centre of gravity within itself. centre of motion. that point about which the parts of a revolving body move, which point is, itself, considered as in a state of rest. centre of magnitude. the middle point of any body. suppose a globe, one side of which is formed of lead, and the other of wood, the centres of magnitude and of gravity, would not be in the same points. central forces. those which either impel a body towards, or from, a centre of motion. centrifugal. that which gives a tendency to fly from a centre. centripetal. that which impels a body, towards a centre. circle. a figure; the periphery, or circumference of which, is every where equally distant, from the point, called its centre. circle, great. on the globe, or earth, is one that divides it into two equal parts, or hemispheres. the equator, and meridian lines, are great circles. circle, lesser. those which divide the globe into unequal parts. the tropical, arctic and antarctic circles, and all parallels of latitude, are lesser circles. circumference. the boundary line of any surface, as that which surrounds the centre of a circle; the four sides of a square, &c. comets. bodies which revolve round the sun, in very long ovals, approaching him very nearly in their perihelion, but in their aphelion, passing to a distance immeasurably great. cohesion. see attraction. compressible. capable of being forced into a smaller space. concave. hollowed out; the inner surface of a watch-glass is concave, and may represent the form of a _concave mirror_, or _lens_. convex. projecting, or bulging out, as the exterior surface of a watch-glass, which may represent the form of a _convex mirror_, or _lens_. cone. a body somewhat resembling a sugar-loaf; that is, having a round base, and sloping at the sides, until it terminates in a point. conjunction. when three of the heavenly bodies are in a straight or right line, if you take either of the extreme bodies, the other two are in conjunction with it; because a straight line drawn from it, might pass through the centres of both, and join them together. at the time of new moon, the moon and sun are in conjunction with the earth; and the moon and earth, are in conjunction with the sun. constellation, or sign. a collection of stars. astronomers have imagined pictures drawn in the heavens, so as to embrace a number of contiguous stars, and have named the group after the animal, or other article supposed to be drawn; an individual star is generally designated by its fancied location; as upon the ear of _leo_, the lion, &c. convergent rays, are those which approach each other, so as eventually to meet in the same point. crystals. bodies of a regular form, having flat surfaces, and well defined angles. nitre, and other salts, are familiar examples. many masses of matter, are composed of crystals too minute to be discerned without glasses. curvilinear, consisting of a line which is not straight, as a portion of a circle, of an oval, or any curved line. cylinder. a body in the form of a roller, having flat circular ends, and being of equal diameter throughout. degree. if a circle of any size be divided into equal parts, each of these parts is called a degree. one quarter of a circle contains ninety degrees; one twelfth of a circle, thirty degrees. the actual length of a degree, must depend upon the size of the circle. a degree upon the equator, upon a meridian, or any great circle of the earth, is equal to - / miles. straight lines are sometimes divided into equal parts, called degrees; but these divisions are arbitrary, bearing no relationship to the degrees upon a circle. density. closeness of texture. when two bodies are equal in bulk, that which weighs the most, has the greatest density. diagonal. a line drawn so as to connect two remote angles of a square, or other four-sided figure. dilatation. the act of increasing in size. bodies in general, dilate when heated, and contract by cooling. discord. when the vibrations of the air, produced by two musical tones, do not bear a certain ratio to each other, a jarring sound is produced, which is called discord. divergent rays. those which proceed from the same point, but are continually receding from each other. divisibility. capability of being divided, or of having the parts separated from each other. this is called one of the _essential properties_ of matter; because, however minute the particles may be, they must still contain as many halves, quarters, &c. as the largest mass of matter. echo. a sound reflected back, by some substance, so situated as to produce this effect. eclipse. the interruption of the light of the sun, or of some other heavenly body, by the intervention of an opaque body. the moon passing between the earth and the sun, causes an eclipse of the latter. ecliptic. a circle in the heavens. the apparent path of the sun, through the twelve signs of the zodiac. this is caused by the actual revolution of the earth, round the sun. it is called the ecliptic, because eclipses always happen in the direction of that line, from the earth. elasticity. that property of bodies, by which they resume their dimensions and form, when the force which changed them is removed. air is eminently elastic. two ivory balls, struck together, become flattened at the point of contact; but immediately resuming their form, they react upon each other. ellipsis. an oval. this figure differs from a circle, in being unequal in its diameters, and in having two centres, or points, called its _foci_. the orbits of the planets are all elliptical. equator. that imaginary line which divides the earth into northern and southern hemispheres, and which is equally distant from each pole. equilibrium. when two articles exactly balance each other, they are in equilibrium. they may, notwithstanding, be very unequal in weight, but they must be so situated, that, if set in motion, their momentums would be equal. equinox. the two periods of time at which the nights and days are every where of equal length. the _vernal_ equinox is in march, when the sun enters the sign _aries_; the _autumnal_ equinox in september, when the sun enters _libra_. at these periods, the sun is vertical at the equator. exhalations. all those articles which arise from the earth, and mixing with the atmosphere, form vapour. expansion. the same as dilatation, which see. extension. one of the essential properties of matter; that by which it occupies some space, to the exclusion of all other matter. figure. all matter must exist in some form, or shape; hence figure is deemed an essential property of matter. fluid. a form of matter, in which its particles readily flow, or slide, over each other. airs, or gases, are called elastic fluids, because they are readily reduced to a smaller bulk by pressure. liquids, are denominated non-elastic fluids, because they suffer but little diminution of bulk, by any mechanical force. focus. that point in which converging rays unite. force. that power which acts upon a body, either tending to create, or to stop motion. fountain. a jet, or stream of water, forced upwards by the weight of other water, by the elasticity of air, or some other mechanical pressure. friction. the rubbing of bodies together, by which their motion is retarded. friction may be lessened, but cannot be destroyed. frigid zones. the spaces or areas, contained within the arctic and antarctic circles. fulcrum. a prop. the point or axis, by which a body is supported, and about which it is susceptible of motion. gas. any kind of air; of these there are several. the atmosphere consists of two kinds, mixed, or combined with each other. geometry. that branch of the mathematics, which treats of lines, of surfaces, and of solids; and investigates their properties, and proportions. globe. a sphere, or ball. it has a point in its centre of magnitude, from which its surface is every where equally distant. gravity. that species of attraction which appears to be common to matter, existing in its particles, and giving to them, and of course to the masses which they compose, a tendency to approach each other. by gravity a stone falls to the earth, and by it the heavenly bodies tend towards each other. harmony. a combination of musical sounds, produced by vibrations which bear a certain ratio to each other; and which thence affect the mind agreeably, when heard at the same time. sounds not so related, produce discord. hemisphere. half a sphere or globe. a plane passing through the centre of a globe, will divide it into hemispheres. horizon. this is generally divided into _sensible_, and _rational_. the sensible horizon is that portion of the surface of the earth, to which our vision extends. our rational horizon is that circle in the heavens which bounds our vision, when on the ocean, an extended plane, or any elevated situation. in the heavens our sensible, and our rational horizon are the same; its plane would divide the earth into hemispheres at degrees from us; and a person standing on that part of the earth which is directly opposite to us, would, at the same moment, see in his horizon, the same heavenly bodies, which would be seen in ours. horizontal. level; not inclined, or sloping. a perfectly round ball, placed upon a flat surface, which is placed horizontally, will remain at rest. hydraulics. that science which treats of water in motion, and the means of raising, conducting, and using it for moving machinery, or other purposes. hydrostatics. treats of the weight, pressure, and equilibrium of fluids, when in a state of rest. hydrometer. an instrument used to ascertain the specific gravity of different fluids, which it does, by the depth to which it sinks when floating on them. image. the picture of any object which we perceive either by reflected or refracted light. all objects which are visible, become so by forming images on the retina. impenetrability. that property of matter, by which it excludes all other matter from occupying the same space with itself at the same time. if two particles could exist in the same space, so also might any greater number, and indeed all the matter in the universe, might be collected in a single point. incidence. the direction in which a body, or a ray of light, moves in its approach towards any substance, upon which it strikes. inclined plane. one of the six mechanical powers. any plane surface inclined to the horizon, may be so denominated. inertia. one of the inherent properties of matter. want of power, or of any active principle within itself, by which it can change its own state, whether of motion, or of rest. inherent properties. those properties which are absolutely necessary to the existence of a body; called also essential properties. all others are denominated accidental. colour is an accidental--extension, an essential property of matter. latitude. distance from the equator, in a direct line towards either pole. this distance is measured in degrees and minutes. the degree of latitude cannot exceed ninety, or one quarter of a circle. places to the south of the equator, are in south latitude, and those to the north, in north latitude. latitude, parallels of. lines drawn upon the globe, parallel to the equator, are so called; every place situated on such a line, has the same latitude, because equally distant from the equator. lens. a glass, ground so that one or both surfaces form segments of a sphere, serving either to magnify, or diminish objects seen through them. glasses used in spectacles are lenses. lever. one of the mechanical powers. an inflexible bar of wood or metal, supported by a fulcrum, or prop; and employed to increase the effect of a given power. libra. one of the twelve signs of the zodiac. that into which the sun enters, at the autumnal equinox. light. that principle, by the aid of which we are able to discern all visible objects. it is generally believed to be a substance emitted by luminous bodies, and, exciting vision by passing into the eye. longitude. distance measured in degrees and minutes, either in an eastern, or a western direction, from any given point either on the equator, or on a parallel of latitude. degrees of longitude may amount to , or half a circle. a degree of longitude measured upon the equator, is of the same length with a degree of latitude; but as the poles are approached, the degrees of longitude diminish in length, because the circles upon which they are measured, become less. lunar. relating to _luna_, the moon. lunation. the time in which the moon completes its circuit. a lunar month. luminous bodies. those which emit light from their own substance; not shining by borrowed, or reflected light. machine. any instrument, either simple or compound, by which any mechanical effect is produced. a needle, and a clock, are both machines. magic lanthorn, or lantern. an optical instrument, by which transparent pictures, painted upon glass, are magnified and exhibited on a white wall or screen, in a darkened room. the phantasmagoria, is a species of magic lanthorn. mathematics. the science of numbers and of extension. common arithmetic, is a lower branch of the mathematics. in its higher departments, it extends to every thing which is capable of being either numbered or measured. matter. substance. every thing with which we become acquainted by the aid of the senses; every thing however large, or however minute, which has length, breadth, and thickness. mechanics. that science which investigates the principles, upon which the action of every machine depends; and teaches their proper application in overcoming resistance, and in producing motion, in all the useful purposes to which they are applied. medium. in optics, is any body which transmits light. air, water, glass, and all other transparent bodies, are media. medium also denotes that in which any body moves. air is the medium which conveys sound, and which enables birds to fly. melody. a succession of such single musical sounds, as form a simple air or tune. mercury. that planet which is nearest to the sun. quicksilver, a metal, which remains fluid at the common temperature of the atmosphere. it is capable of being rendered solid, by intense cold. meridian. midday. a meridian line, is one which extends directly from one pole of the earth to the other; crossing the equator at right angles. it is therefore half of a great circle. the hour of the day is the same at every place situated on the same meridian. longitude is measured from any given meridian, to the opposite meridian. places at the same distance in degrees, to the east or west of any meridian, have the same longitude. microscope. an optical instrument, by which minute objects, are magnified, so as to enable us to perceive and examine such as could not be seen by the naked eye. mineral. earths, stones, metals, salts, and in general all substances dug out of the earth, are denominated minerals. minute. in time, the sixtieth part of an hour. in length, the sixtieth part of a degree. a minute of time, is an unvarying period; but a minute in length varies in extent, with the degree of which it forms a part. the degrees and minutes are equal in number, upon a common ring, upon the equator of the earth, or, on any circle of the heavens. mirrors. polished surfaces of metal, or of glass coated with metal, for the purpose of reflecting the rays of light, and the images of objects. common looking-glasses, are mirrors. those used in reflecting telescopes, are made of metal. mobility. capable of being moved from one place to another. this is accounted one of the essential properties of matter, because we cannot conceive of its existence without this capacity. momentum. the force, or power, with which a body in motion acts upon any other body, or tends to preserve its own quantity of motion. the momentum of a body, is compounded of its quantity of matter, and its velocity. a body weighing one pound, moving with a velocity of two miles in a minute, will possess the same momentum with one weighing two pounds, moving with a velocity of one mile in a minute. motion. a continued and successive change of place, either of a whole body, or of the particles of which a body is composed; the earth in revolving upon its axis only, would not change its place as a body, but all the particles of which it is composed, would revolve round a common axis of motion. in revolving in its orbit, its whole mass is constantly occupying a new portion of space. natural philosophy. that science which enquires into the laws which govern all the natural bodies in the universe, in all their changes of place, or of state. neap tides. those tides which occur when the moon is in her quadratures, or half way between new, and full moon; at these periods the tides are the lowest. nodes. those points in the orbit of the moon, or of a planet, where it crosses the ecliptic or plane of the earth's orbit. when passing to the north of the ecliptic, it is called the ascending node; when to the south of it, the descending node. oblate. see spheroid. octagon. a figure with eight sides, and consequently with eight angles. opaque. not transparent; refusing a passage to the rays of light. optics. that branch of science which treats of light, and vision. it is generally divided into two parts. _catoptrics_, which treats of the reflection of light, and _dioptrics_, which treats of its refraction. orbit. the line in which a primary planet moves in its revolution round the sun; or a secondary planet, in its revolution round its primary. these orbits are all elliptical, or oval. parabola. a particular kind of curve; that which a body describes in rising and in falling, when thrown upwards, in any direction not perpendicular to the horizon. parallelogram. a figure with four sides, having those which are opposite, parallel to each other. a square, an oblong square, and the figure usually called a diamond, are parallelograms. parallel lines. all lines, whether straight or curved, which are every where at an equal distance from each other, are parallel lines. parallel of latitude. see latitude. perihelion. that part of the orbit of a planet, in which it approaches the sun most nearly. pendulum. a body suspended by a rod, or line, so that it may vibrate, or oscillate, backwards and forwards. pendulums of the same length, perform their vibrations in the same time, whatever may be their weight, and whether the arc of vibration, be long or short. percussion. the striking of bodies against each other. the force of this, depends upon the momentum of the striking body. period. the time required for the revolution of one of the heavenly bodies in its orbit. perpendicular. making an angle of degrees with the horizon. when two lines which meet, make an angle of degrees, they are perpendicular to each other. phases. the various appearances of the disc, or face of the moon, and of the planets; that portion of them which we see illuminated by the rays of the sun. phenomenon. any natural appearance is properly so called; the term, however, is usually applied to extraordinary appearances, as eclipses, transits, &c. piston. that part of a pump, or other engine which is made to fit into a hollow cylinder, or barrel; and to move up and down in it, in order to raise water, or for any other purpose. plane. a perfectly flat surface. the plane of the orbit of a planet, is an imaginary flat surface, extending to every part of the orbit. planet. those bodies which revolve round the sun, in orbits nearly circular. they are divided into _primary_, and _secondary_; these latter are also called satellites, or moons; they revolve round the primary planets, and accompany them in their courses round the sun. plumb-line. a string, or cord, by which a weight is suspended; it is used for the purpose of finding a line perpendicular to the horizon; the weight being always attracted towards the centre of the earth. pneumatics. that branch of natural philosophy, which treats of the mechanical properties of the atmosphere, or of air in general. poles. the extremities of the axis of motion either of our earth, or of any other revolving sphere. the poles of the earth have never been visited; the regions by which they are surrounded, being obstructed by impassable barriers of ice. power. that force which we apply to any mechanical instrument, to effect a given purpose, is denominated power, from whatever source it may be derived. we have the power of weights, of springs, of horses, of men, of steam, &c. prism. the instrument usually so called, is employed in optics to decompose the solar ray: it consists of a piece of solid glass, several inches in length, and having three flat sides; the ends are equal in size, and are of course triangular. precession of the equinoxes. every equinox takes place a few seconds of a degree, before the earth arrives at that part of the ecliptic in which the preceding equinox occurred. this phenomenon is called the precession of the equinoxes. there is consequently a gradual change of the places of the signs of the zodiac: a fact, the discovery of which has thrown much light on ancient chronology. projection. that force by which motion is given to a body, by some power acting upon it, independently of gravity. pulley. one of the six mechanical powers. a wheel turning upon an axis, with a line passing over it. it is the moveable pulley only, which gives any mechanical advantage. pump. an hydraulic, or pneumatic instrument, for the purpose of raising water, or exhausting air. quadrant. a quarter of a circle. an instrument used to measure the elevation of a body in degrees above the horizon. quadratures of the moon. that period in which she appears in the form of a semicircle. she is then either in her first, or her last quarter; and exactly half way, between the places of new, and of full moon. radiation. the passage of light or heat in rays, or straight lines; these being projected from every luminous, or heated point, in all directions. radius. the distance from the centre of a circle, to its circumference; or one half of its diameter. in the plural denominated radii. rainbow. an appearance in the atmosphere, occasioned by the decomposition of solar light, in its refraction, and reflection, in passing through drops of rain. the bow can be seen, only when the sun is near the horizon, when the back is turned towards it, and there is a shower in the opposite direction. ray. a single line of light, emitted in one direction, from any luminous point. reaction. every body, whether in a state of motion, or at rest, tends to remain in such state, and resists the action of any other body upon it, with a force equal to that action. this resistance, is called its _reaction_. receiver. this name is applied to glass vessels of various kinds, appertaining to the air pump, and from which the air may be exhausted. they are made to contain, or receive, any article upon which an effect is to be produced, by taking off the pressure of the atmosphere. refraction, of the rays of light, is the bending of those rays, when they pass obliquely from one medium into another of different density. a stick held obliquely in water, appears bent or broken at the surface of the fluid. refrangibility. capacity of being refracted. light is decomposed by the prism, because its component parts are refrangible in different degrees, by the same refracting medium. repulsion. the reverse of attraction. a tendency in particles, or in masses of matter, to recede from each other. the matter of heat within a body, appears to counteract the attraction of its particles, so as to prevent absolute contact. retina. that part of the ball of the eye, upon which the images of visible objects are formed; and from which, the idea of such forms, is conveyed to the mind. revolution, of a planet; is either diurnal, or annual; the former, is its turning upon its own axis; the latter, is its passage in its orbit. satellites. moons, secondary planets. segment of a circle. a portion, or part of a circle; called also, an arc of a circle. semi-diameter. half the diameter. the semi-diameter of the earth, is the distance from its surface, to its centre. siderial. belonging to the stars. a siderial day, is the time required for a star to reappear on a given meridian. a siderial year, the period in which the sun appears to have travelled round the ecliptic, so as to have arrived opposite to any particular star, from which his course was calculated. signs, or constellations. collections, or groups, of stars. those of the zodiac are twelve, corresponding with the twelve months in the year. in the centre of these the ecliptic is situated. the sun appears to pass in succession through these signs; entering the first degree of aries, which is accounted the first sign, about the st of march. sky. that vast expanse, or space, in which the heavenly bodies are situated. its blue appearance is supposed to arise from the particles of which the atmosphere is composed, possessing the property of reflecting the blue rays, in greatest abundance. solar. appertaining to, or governed by, the sun: as the solar system, the solar year, solar eclipses. solid. not fluid. having its parts connected so as to form a mass. solid bodies, are not absolutely so, all undoubtedly containing pores, or spaces void of matter. solstices. the middle of summer and the middle of winter; those two points in the orbit of the earth, in which its poles point most directly towards the sun. sonorous bodies. those bodies which are capable of being put into a state of vibration, so as to emit sounds. specific gravity. the relative weight of bodies of different species, when the same bulk of each is taken. water has been chosen as the standard for comparison. if we say that the specific gravity of a body is , we mean, that its weight is six times as great as that of a portion of water, exactly equal to it in bulk. spectrum. that appearance of differently coloured rays, which is produced by the refraction of the solar ray, by means of a prism, is called the prismatic spectrum; it exhibits most distinctly, and beautifully, all the colours seen in the rainbow. sphere. a globe, or ball. spheroid. spherical; a body approaching nearly to a sphere in its figure. the earth, is denominated an _oblate spheroid_; it not being an exact sphere, but flattened at the poles, so as to cause the polar diameter to be upwards of thirty miles less than the equatorial. oblate, is the reverse of oblong, and means shorter in one direction, than in another. spring tides. those tides which occur at the time of new, or of full moon. the tides then rise to a greater height than at any other period. square. a figure having four sides of equal length, and its angles all right angles. in numbers; the product of a number multiplied into itself; thus, the square of is , and the square of is . star. the _fixed_ stars are so called, because they retain their relative situations; while the planets, by revolving in their orbits, appear to wander amongst the fixed stars. subtend. this term is applied to the measurement of an angle; when the lines by which it is bounded recede but little from each other, they are said to subtend; that is, to be contained under, a small angle. superficies. the surface of any figure. space extended in length and width. system. the mutual connexion, and dependance of things, upon each other. the solar, or copernican system, includes the sun, the planets, with their moons, and the comets. tangent. a straight line touching the circumference of a circle; but which would not cut off any portion of it, were it extended beyond the touching point, in both directions. telescope. an instrument by which distant objects may be distinctly seen; the images of objects being brought near to the eye, and greatly magnified. temperate zones. those portions of the surface of the earth situated between - / and - / degrees of latitude. within these boundaries, the sun is never vertical; nor does he ever remain, during a whole day, below the horizon. thermometer. an instrument for measuring the temperature of the atmosphere, or of other bodies. torrid zone. that portion of the earth which extends - / degrees on each side of the equator, to the tropical circles; within this limit, the sun is vertical, twice in the year. transit. mercury or venus, are said to transit the sun, when they pass between the earth and that luminary. they then appear like dark spots, upon the face of the sun. transparent. allowing the rays of light to pass freely through. the reverse of opaque. glass, water, air, &c. are transparent bodies. tropics. two circles on the globe on either hemisphere, at the distance of - / degrees from the equator. beyond these circles, the sun is never vertical: and the countries within them, are denominated tropical. twilight. that portion of the morning or evening, in which the light of the sun is perceptible, although he is below the horizon. vacuum. space void of matter. such is supposed to be the space in which the planets revolve. we are said to produce a vacuum, when we exhaust the air from a receiver. valve. a part of a pump, and of some other instruments, which opens to admit the passage of a fluid in one direction, but closes when pressed in the opposite direction, so as to prevent the return of the fluid; a pair of bellows is furnished with a valve. vapour. exhalations from fluid or solid substances, generally mixing with the atmosphere. the most abundant, is that from water. vertical. exactly over our heads: ninety degrees above our horizon. vibration. the alternate motion of a body, forwards and backwards; swinging, as a pendulum. visual. belonging to vision; as the visual angle, or that angle formed by the rays of light which enter the eye, from the extremities of any object. undulation. a vibratory, or wave-like motion communicated to fluids. sound, is said to be propagated by the undulatory, or vibratory motion of the air. wedge. one of the mechanical powers; the form of the wedge is well known. it is of extensive use; serving to rend bodies of great strength, and to raise enormous weights. wheel and axle. one of the mechanical powers, used under various modifications. cranes for raising weights, the wheels and pinions of clocks and watches, windlasses, &c. are all applications of this power. zodiac. a broad belt in the heavens, extending nearly eight degrees on each side of the ecliptic; the planes of the orbits of all the planets are included within this space. this belt is divided into twelve parts or signs, each containing degrees. these signs are: _aries_; the ram. _taurus_; the bull. _gemini_; the twins. _cancer_; the crab. _leo_; the lion. _virgo_; the virgin. _libra_; the scales. _scorpio_; the scorpion. _sagittarius_; the archer. _capricornus_; the goat. _aquarius_; the waterer. _pisces_; the fishes. the first six are called northern signs; because the sun is in them, during that half of the year, in which he is vertical to the north of the equator; the last six, are called southern signs; because, during his journey among them, he is vertical to the south of the equator. the sun enters _aries_, at the time of the _vernal equinox_; _cancer_, at the _summer solstice_; _libra_, at the _autumnal equinox_; and _capricornus_, at the _winter solstice_. the sun is said to enter a sign, when the earth in going round in its orbit, enters the opposite sign. thus, when the sun appears in the first degree of _libra_, it is in consequence of the earth having arrived opposite to the first degree of aries. a line then drawn from the earth, and passing through the centre of the sun, would, if extended to the fixed stars, touch the first degree of libra. zone. the earth is divided into zones, or belts. see frigid, temperate, and torrid zones. index. a. air, , , , , . air-pump, , . angle, . acute, . obtuse, . right, . of incidence, , , , . of reflection, , , , . visual, , , . angular velocity, . antarctic circle, . aphelion, . arctic circle, . atmosphere, , , , , , , . colour of, . reflection of, . refraction of, . attraction, , , , , . of cohesion, , , . capillary, . of gravitation, , , , , , , , . avenue, . auditory nerve, . axis, . of motion, . of the earth, , . of mirrors, . of a lens, . b. balloon, . barometer, . bass, . bladder, . bodies, . elastic, . fall of, , , , . luminous, . opaque, . sonorous, , . transparent, . bulk, . c. camera obscura, , , . capillary tubes, . centre, . of gravity, , , , . of magnitude, , . of motion, , , . centrifugal force, , , , . centripetal force, , . ceres, . circle, , . circumference, . clouds, . colours, , . comets, . compression, . concord, . constellation, . convergent rays, , . crystals, . curvilinear motion, , . cylinder, . d. day, , , . degrees, , , , , . of latitude, , . of longitude, , . density, . diagonal, . diameter, . discords, . diurnal, . divergent rays, , . divisibility, , . e. earth, , , , , . echo, . eclipse, , . ecliptic, , , . elasticity, . elastic bodies, , . fluids, , , , . ellipsis, . equinox, , . precession of, . equator, , . essential properties, . exhalations, . extension, , . eye, , . f. fall of bodies, , , . figure, , . fluids, , . elastic, , , , . equilibrium of, , , . non-elastic, . pressure of, . flying, . focus, . of concave mirrors, . of convex mirrors, , . of a lens, . imaginary, . virtual, . force, . centrifugal, , , , . centripetal, , . projectile, , . of gravity, , . fountains, . friction, , , . frigid zone, . fulcrum, . g. general properties of bodies, . georgium sidus, . glass, . burning, . refraction of, . gold, , . gravity, , , , . h. harmony, . heat, , , . hemisphere, , . herschel, . hydraulics, . hydrometer, . hydrostatics, . i. image on the retina, , . reversed, . in plain mirror, . in concave do. . in convex do. . impenetrability, . inclined plane, , . inertia, , , . inherent properties, . juno, . jupiter, . l. lake, , . latitude, , . lens, . concave, . convex, . meniscus, . plano-concave, . plano-convex, . lever, , . first kind, . second kind, . third kind, . light, . pencil of, . of the moon, , . absorption of, . reflected, . refraction of, . liquids, . longitude, , . luminous bodies, . lunar month, . eclipse, . m. machine, , . magic lanthorn, . mars, . matter, , . mechanics, . mediums, , . melody, . mercury, (planet) , , . mercury, or quicksilver, , , . meridians, . microscope, . single, . double, . solar, , . minerals, . minutes, . momentum, , . monsoons, . month, lunar, . moon, , , , , . moonlight, , . motion, , , . accelerated, . axis of, . centre of, , . compound, . curvilinear, , . diurnal, . perpetual, . retarded, . reflected, . uniform, . mirrors, . axis of, . burning, . concave, , , . convex, , . plane or flat, . reflection of, . n. neap tides, . nerves, . auditory, , . olfactory, . optic, , . night, . nodes, . o. octave, . odour, . opaque bodies, , . optics, . orbit, . p. pallas, . parabola, . parallel lines, . parallel of latitude, . pellucid bodies, . pencil of rays, . pendulum, . perihelion, . perpendicular lines, . phases, . piston, , . plane, , . planets, , , . poles, , , . polar star, , . porosity, , . powers, mechanical, . projection, , , . precession of equinoxes, . pulley, , . pump, . sucking and lifting, . forcing, , . air, , . pupil of the eye, . r. rain, , . rainbow, . rarity, . ray of light, , . reflected, , . incident, . rays, intersecting, . reaction, . receiver, . reflection of light, , . angle of, , , . of mirrors, . of plane mirrors, . of concave do. . of convex do. . reflected motion, . refraction, , . of the atmosphere, . of glass, . of a lens, . of a prism, . resistance, . retina, . image on, . rivers, . rivulets, . s. satellites, , , . saturn, . scales, or balance, . screw, , . shadow, , . siderial time, . sight, . signs of the zodiac, , . smoke, , . solar microscope, . solstice, , . sound, . acute, . musical, . space, . specific gravity, . of air, . spectrum, . speaking-trumpet, . sphere, . springs, . spring tides, . square, , . stars, , , . storms, . substance, . summer, , . sun, , , , , . swimming, . syphon, . t. tangent, , . telescope, , . reflecting, . refracting, . temperate zone, , . thermometer, . tides, , . neap, . spring, . ærial, . time, , . siderial, . equal, . solar, . tone, . torrid zone, , , . transit, . transparent bodies, . treble and bass, . tropics, . v. valve, . vapour, , , , . velocity, , . venus, . vesta, . vibration, , . vision, , . vision, angle of, , . double, . u. undulation, . unison, . w. water, , . spring, . rain, . level of, . wedge, , . weight, . wheel and axle, , . wind, . trade, . periodical, . winter, , . y. year, . siderial, . solar, . z. zodiac, . zone, . torrid, , , . temperate, , . frigid, , . the end. to all teachers. school books. smiley's geography and atlas, and sacred and ancient geography for schools. the above works will be found useful and very valuable as works of reference, as well as for schools. the maps, composing the atlases, will be found equal in execution and correctness to those on the most extensive scale. the author has received numerous recommendations, among which are the following: dear sir--i have looked over your "_easy introduction to the study of geography_," together with your "_improved atlas_." i have no hesitation in declaring, that i consider them works of peculiar merit. they do honour to your industry, research, and talent, and i am satisfied, will facilitate the improvement of the student in geographical science. with sentiments of sincere consideration, i am yours truly, wm. staughton, d. d. _president of columbia college, district of columbia._ mr. thomas smiley. _philadelphia, sept. , ._ * * * * * _extract from the minutes of the philadelphia academy of teachers._ _november , ._ resolved unanimously, that the academy of teachers highly approve the superior merits of mr. smiley's "_easy introduction to the study of geography_," and the accompanying atlas, and cordially recommend them to the patronage of the public. b. mayo, _president._ i. i. hitchcock, _secretary._ the new federal calculator, or scholar's assistant. containing the most concise and accurate rules for performing the operations in common arithmetic; together with numerous examples under each of the rules, varied so as to make them conformable to almost every kind of business. for the use of schools and counting houses. by thomas t. smiley, teacher: author of an easy introduction to the study of geography. also, of sacred geography for the use of schools. among the numerous recommendations received to the work, are the following: mr. john grigg. _phila. march , ._ sir--i have examined with as much care as my time would admit, "the new federal calculator," by thomas t. smiley. it appears to me to be a treatise on arithmetic of considerable merit. there are parts in mr. smiley's work which are very valuable; the rules given by him in barter, loss and gain, and exchange, are a great desideratum in a new system or treatise on arithmetic, and renders his book superior to any on the subject now in use; and when it is considered that the calculations in the work are made in federal money, the only currency now known in the united states, and that appropriate questions follow the different rules, by which the learner can be exercised as to his understanding of each part as he progresses; i hesitate not to say, that, in my opinion, it is eminently calculated to promote instruction in the science on which it treats. mr. smiley deserves the thanks of the public and the encouragement of teachers, for his attempt to simplify and improve the method of teaching arithmetic. i am yours respectfully, wm. p. smith, _preceptor of mathematics and natural philosophy, no. , south tenth street._ * * * * * sir--i have carefully examined "the new federal calculator, or scholar's assistant," by thomas t. smiley, on which you politely requested my opinion; and freely acknowledge that i think it better calculated for the use of the united states schools and counting-houses than any book on the subject that i have seen. the author's arrangement of the four primary rules is, in my opinion, a judicious and laudable innovation, claiming the merit of improvement; as it brings together the rules nearest related in their nature and uses. his questions upon the rules throughout, appear to me to be admirably calculated to elicit the exertions of the learner. but above all, the preference he has given to the currency of his own country, in its numerous examples, has stamped a value upon this little work, which i believe has not fallen to the lot of any other book of the kind, as yet offered to the american public. i am, sir, yours respectfully, john mackay. _charleston, (s. c.) march , ._ * * * * * _from the united states gazette._ among the numerous publications of the present day, devoted to the improvement of youth, we have noticed a new edition of smiley's arithmetic, just published by j. grigg. the general arrangement of this book is an improvement upon the arithmetics in present use, being more systematic, and according to the affinities of different rules. the chief advantage of the present over the first edition, is a correction of several typographical errors, a circumstance which will render it peculiarly acceptable to teachers. in referring to the merits of this little work, it is proper to mention that a greater portion of its pages are devoted to federal calculation, than is generally allowed in primary works in this branch of study. the heavy tax of time and patience which our youth are now compelled to pay to the errors of their ancestors, by performing the various operations of pounds, shillings, and pence, should be remitted, and we are glad to notice that the federal computation is becoming the prominent practice of school arithmetic. in recommending mr. smiley's book to the notice of parents and teachers, we believe that we invite their attention to a work that will really prove an "assistant" to them, and a "_guide_" to their interesting charge. * * * * * the editors of the new york telegraph, speaking of smiley's arithmetic, observe that they have within a few days attentively examined the above arithmetic, and say, "we do not hesitate to pronounce it an improvement upon every work of the kind previously before the public; and as such, recommend its adoption in all our schools and academies." a key to the above arithmetic, in which all the examples necessary for a learner are wrought at large, and also solutions given of all the various rules. designed principally to facilitate the labour of teachers, and assist such as have not the opportunity of a tutor's aid. by t. t. smiley, author of the new federal calculator, &c. &c. torrey's spelling book, or first book for children. i have examined mr. jesse torrey's "familiar spelling book." i think it a great improvement in the primitive, and not least important branches of education, and shall introduce it into the seminaries under my care, as one superior to any which has yet appeared. ira hill, a. m. _boonsborough, feb. , ._ the increasing demand for this work is the best evidence of its merits. a pleasing companion for little girls and boys, blending instruction with amusement; being a selection of interesting stories, dialogues, fables, and poetry. designed for the use of primary schools and domestic nurseries. by jesse torrey, jr. to secure the perpetuation of our republican form of government to future generations, let divines and philosophers, statesmen and patriots, unite their endeavours to renovate the age, by impressing the minds of the people with the importance of educating their _little boys and girls_. s. adams. _report of the committee of the philadelphia academy of teachers: adopted nov. , ._ the committee, to whom was referred mr. jesse torrey's "pleasing companion for little girls and boys," beg leave to report, that they have perused the "pleasing companion," and have much pleasure in pronouncing as their opinion, that it is a compilation much better calculated for the exercise and improvement of small children in the art of reading, and especially in the more rare art of understanding what they read, than the books in general use. all which is respectfully submitted. i. irvine hitchcock, pardon davis, charles mead, _committee_. a true copy from the minutes of the academy. c. b. trego, _secretary_. _nov. , ._ the moral instructor and guide to virtue, by jesse torrey, jr. among the numerous recommendations to this valuable school book, are the following:-- _extract of a note from the hon. thomas jefferson, late president of the united states._ "i thank you, sir, for the copy of your '_moral instructor_.' i have read the first edition with great satisfaction, and encouraged its reading in my family." * * * * * _extracts of a letter from the hon. james madison, late president of the united states._ "sir--i have received your letter of the th, with a copy of the _moral instructor_. "i have looked enough into your little volume to be satisfied, that both the original and selected parts contain information and instruction which may be useful, not only to juvenile but most other readers. "with friendly respects, james madison." dr. torrey. * * * * * _from roberts vaux, president of the controllers of the public schools in philadelphia._ "the moral instructor" is a valuable compilation. it appears to be well adapted for elementary schools, and it will give me pleasure to learn that the lessons which it contains are furnished for the improvement of our youth generally. respectfully, roberts vaux. _philadelphia, th month, ._ history of england, from the first invasion by julius cæsar, to the accession of george the fourth, in eighteen hundred and twenty: comprising every political event worthy of remembrance; a progressive view of religion, language, and manners; of men eminent for their virtue or their learning; their patriotism, eloquence, or philosophical research; of the introduction of manufactures, and of colonial establishments. with an interrogative index, for the use of schools. by william grimshaw, author of a history of the united states, &c. history of the united states, from their first settlement as colonies, to the cession of florida, in : comprising every important political event; with a progressive view of the aborigines; population, religion, agriculture, and commerce; of the arts, sciences, and literature; occasional biographies of the most remarkable colonists, writers, and philosophers, warriors, and statesmen; and a copious alphabetical index. by william grimshaw, author of a history of england, &c. also, questions adapted to the above history, and a key, adapted to the questions, for the use of teachers. "_university of georgia, athens, june , ._ "dear sir, "with grateful pleasure, i have read the two small volumes of mr. grimshaw, (a history of england, and a history of the united states) which you some time since placed in my hands. on a careful perusal of them, i feel no difficulty in giving my opinion, that they are both, as to style and sentiment, works of uncommon merit in their kind; and admirably adapted to excite, in youthful minds, the love of historical research. "with sincere wishes for the success of his literary labours, "i am very respectfully, your friend, "m. waddel, _president_. "e. jackson, esq." * * * * * "d. jaudon presents his respectful compliments to mr. grimshaw, and is much obliged by his polite attention, and the handsome compliment of his history of the united states with the questions and key. "mr. j. has been in the use of this book for some time; but anticipates still more pleasure to himself, and profit to his pupils, in future, from the help and facility which the questions and key will afford in the study of these interesting pages. "_october th, ._" * * * * * _golgotha, p. edwd. va. sep. , ._ "dear sir, "mr. grimshaw's 'history of the united states,' &c. was some time ago put into my hands by mr. b----, who requested me to give you my opinion as to the merits of the work. the history of the late war is well managed by your author: it has more of detail and interest than the former part; and i consider it much superior to any of the many compilations on that subject, with which the public has been favoured. it may be said of the entire performance, that it is decidedly the best chronological series, and the chastest historical narrative, suited to the capacity of the juvenile mind, that has yet appeared. its arrangement is judicious; its style neat, always perspicuous, and often elegant; and its principles sound. "american writings on men and things connected with america, have been long needed for the young; and i am happy to find, that mr. grimshaw has not only undertaken to supply this want, but also to _americanise_ foreign history for the use of our schools. in a word, sir, i am so fond of american fabrics, and so anxious to show myself humbly instrumental in giving our youth american feeling and character whilst at school; that i shall without hesitation recommend mr. grimshaw's works to my young pupils, as introductory to more extensive historical reading. in fine, the work is so unobjectionable, and puts so great a mass of necessary information within the reach of school-boys, at so cheap a rate, that i feel the highest pleasure in recommending it to the public, and wish you extensive sales. "yours respectfully, "william branch, jr. "mr. benjamin warner, "_philadelphia._" * * * * * "_history of the united states, from their first settlement as colonies, to the peace of ghent, &c._ by william grimshaw, pp. , mo. "this is the third time, within the space of two years, that we have had occasion to review a volume from the hand of mr. grimshaw. he writes with great rapidity; and improves as he advances. this is the most correctly written of all his productions. we could wish that a person so well formed for close, and persevering study, as he must be, might find encouragement to devote himself to the interests of literature." "mr. g. has our thanks for the best concise and comprehensive history of the united states which we have seen." _theological review, october, ._ * * * * * "_history of england, from the first invasion by julius cæsar, to the peace of ghent, &c._ _for the use of schools._ by william grimshaw. philadelphia, . benjamin warner. mo. pp. . "we have copied so much of the title of this work, barely to express our decided approbation of the book, and to recommend its general introduction into schools. it is one of the best books of the kind to be found, and is instructive even to an adult reader. we should be pleased that teachers would rank it among their class-books; for it is well calculated to give correct impressions, to its readers, of the gradual progress of science, religion, government, and many other institutions, a knowledge of which is beneficial in the present age. among the many striking merits of this book, are, the perspicuity of the narrative, and chasteness of the style. it is with no little pleasure we have learned, that the author has prepared a similar history _of the united states_; a work long wanted, to fill up a deplorable chasm in the education of american youth." _analectic magazine, october, ._ * * * * * "_philadelphia, june, ._ "sir--i have read with pleasure and profit your history of england. i think it is written with perspicuity, chasteness, and impartiality. well written history is the best political instructor, and under a government in which it is the blessing of the country that the people govern, its pages should be constantly in the hands of our youth, and lie open to the humblest citizen in our wide-spread territories. your book is eminently calculated thus to diffuse this important knowledge, and therefore entitled to extensive circulation; which i most cordially wish. with much respect, "your obedient servant, "langdon cheves. "william grimshaw, esq." grimshaw's improved edition of goldsmith's greece.--among the numerous recommendations to this valuable school book, are the following:-- although there are many worthless school books, there are but few which are equally impure and inaccurate with the original editions of goldsmith's histories, for the use of schools. i congratulate both teachers and pupils upon the appearance of mr. grimshaw's edition of the "history of greece," which has been so completely expurgated, and otherwise corrected, as to give it the character of a new work, admirably adapted to the purpose for which it is intended. thos. p. jones, _professor of mechanics in the franklin institute of the state of pennsylvania, and late principal of the north carolina female academy._ _philadelphia, sept. , ._ * * * * * mr. john grigg. dear sir--agreeably to your request i have examined, with attention, "goldsmith's greece, revised and corrected, and a vocabulary of proper names appended, with prosodial marks, to assist in their pronunciation, by william grimshaw;" and i feel a perfect freedom to say, that the correction of numerous grammatical and other errors, by mr. grimshaw, together with the rejection of many obscene and indelicate passages improper for the perusal of youth, gives this edition, in my opinion, a decided preference over the editions of that work heretofore in use. the questions and key, likewise supplied by mr. grimshaw to accompany this edition, afford a facility for communicating instruction, which will be duly appreciated by every judicious teacher. i am, sir, yours truly, thos. t. smiley. _philadelphia, sept. , ._ * * * * * the editor of the united states gazette, in speaking of this work, says--"goldsmith's greece, without a revision, is not calculated for schools; it abounds in errors, in indelicate description, improper phrases, and is, indeed, a proof how very badly a good author can write, if indeed there is not much room to doubt goldsmith ever composed the histories to which his name is attached. mr. grimshaw has adopted the easy descriptive style of that writer, retained his facts, connected his dates, and entirely and handsomely adapted his work to the school desk. the book of questions and the accompanying key, are valuable additions to the work, and will be found most serviceable to teacher and pupil. "from a knowledge of the book, and some acquaintance with the wants of those for whom it was especially prepared, we unhesitatingly recommend grimshaw's greece as one of the best (in our opinion, the very best of) works of the kind that has been offered to the public." the united states speaker, compiled by t. t. smiley--preferred generally to the columbian orator and scott's lessons, and works of that kind, by teachers who have examined it. goldsmith's history of greece, improved by grimshaw, with a vocabulary of the proper names contained in the work, and the prosodial accents, in conformity with the pronunciation of lempriere--with questions and a key, as above. grimshaw's etymological dictionary and expositor of the english language. * * * * * transcriber's note: spelling variations where there is no obviously preferred choice have been preserved, except as noted below. irregularities include: "bason" and "basin;" derivatives of "enquire" and "inquire;" "learned" and "learnt;" "sidereal" and "siderial;" "sun-rise" and "sunrise;" "sun-set" and "sunset." the original use of commas was preserved, except where explicitly noted below. the original spelling of "pourtray" was preserved. both roman and arabic numerals are used to number the plates; the text was left as is. preserved the non-standard order in the index, where u comes after v. removed extra comma after "which" on page v: "about which the parts." changed "sideral" to "siderial" on page vi: "solar, siderial, and equal." added comma after "mrs. b." on page : "your assistance, my dear mrs. b., in a charge." changed "errroneous" to "erroneous" on page : "an erroneous conception." added comma after "mrs. b." twice on page : "yet surely, mrs. b., there;" and "but, mrs. b., if attraction." added commas before and after "mrs. b." on page : "pray, mrs. b., do." changed "pullies" to "pulleys" on page : "a system of pulleys." changed "plate . fig. " to "plate . fig. " on page in the body of the text and in the associated question, to designate the correct figure. changed "twelves" to "twelve" on page : "twelve times less." changed "stream" to "steam" on page : "expansive force of steam." changed "pray mrs. b," to "pray, mrs. b.," on page . changed "nonelastic" to "non-elastic" on page : "non-elastic like water." removed extra comma after "one" on page : "one would ultimately have prevailed." changed "eliptical" to "elliptical" on page : "elliptical or oval orbit." changed "eclipse" to "ellipsis" on page : "motion in an ellipsis." changed "elipsis" to "ellipsis" on page : "but an ellipsis." changed "fig. plate " in the question on page to "fig. . plate " to designate the correct figure. changed "day-light" to "daylight" on page : "see them by daylight." changed the second question numbered to " " from page . changed "eliptical" to "elliptical" on page : "they were elliptical." capitalised "mercury" on page : "made upon mercury." added question mark on page after "those beautiful lines of milton." removed repeated word, "it", on page : "provided it were steady." changed "aeriform" to "æriform" on page (in versions supporting full latin- character set). changed "atmospherical" to "atmospheric" on page : "the atmospheric air." changed "rarifies" to "rarefies" on page : "heat rarefies air." changed "to day" to "to-day" on page : "our lesson to-day." changed "re-appearance" to "reappearance" on page : "reappearance of the sun." changed question to " " on page to maintain proper sequence. changed "proportionably" to "proportionally" on page : "proportionally distinct." inserted comma after "circle" on page in the glossary entry for "circle, lesser." inserted period on page at the end of the glossary entry for "cylinder." changed "musisical" to "musical" on page in the glossary entry for "harmony." changed "perpendidicular" to "perpendicular" on page : "perpendicular to each other." changed "oppoite" to "opposite" on page : "the opposite direction." capitalised "aries" on page : "the first degree of aries." change "jr." to "jr." in the advertisement for "a pleasing companion ...": "by jesse torrey, jr." transcriber's note this is volume of a -volume set. the other two volumes are also accessible in project gutenberg using http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/ and http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/ . italic text is denoted by _underscores_. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. more detail can be found at the end of the book. [illustration: benjamin franklin, l.l.d. _publish'd april , ; by longman, rees, hurst, & orme, paternoster row._] the works of benjamin franklin, l.l.d. vol. . [illustration: (engraved by w. & g. cooke.)] printed, for longman, hurst, rees, & orme, paternoster row, london. the complete works, in philosophy, politics, and morals, of the late dr. benjamin franklin, now first collected and arranged: with memoirs of his early life, written by himself. in three volumes. vol. i. london: printed for j. johnson, st. paul's church-yard; and longman, hurst, rees and orme, paternoster-row. . advertisement. _the works of dr. franklin have been often partially collected, never before brought together in one uniform publication._ _the first collection was made by mr. peter collinson in the year . it consisted of letters, communicated by the author to the editor, on one subject, electricity, and formed a pamphlet only, of which the price was half-a-crown. it was enlarged in , by a second communication on the same subject, and in , by a third, till, in , by the addition of letters and papers on other philosophical subjects, it amounted to a quarto volume of pages._ _ten years after, in , another collection was made, by a different editor, in one volume, printed both in quarto and octavo, of papers not contained in the preceding collection, under the title of political, miscellaneous, and philosophical pieces._ _in , a third collection appeared in a thin octavo volume, entitled philosophical and miscellaneous papers._ _and lastly, in , a fourth was published, in two volumes, crown octavo, consisting of memoirs of dr. franklin's life, and essays humourous, moral and literary, chiefly in the manner of the spectator._ _in the present volumes will be found all the different collections we have enumerated, together with the various papers of the same author, that have been published in separate pamphlets, or inserted in foreign collections of his works, or in the transactions of our own or of foreign philosophical societies, or in our own or foreign newspapers and magazines, as far as discoverable by the editor, who has been assisted in the research by a gentleman in america. among these papers some, we conceive, will be new to the english reader on this side of the atlantic; particularly a series of essays entitled the busy-body, written, as dr. franklin tells us in his life, when he was an assiduous imitator of addison; and a pamphlet, entitled plain truth, with which he is said to have commenced his political career as a writer. we hoped to have been enabled to add, what would have been equally new, and still more acceptable, a genuine copy of the life of our author, as written by himself; but in this hope we are disappointed, and we are in consequence obliged to content ourselves with a translation, which has been already before the public, from a copy in the french language, coming no farther down than the year ; and a continuation of his history from that period, by the late dr. stuber of philadelphia._ _the character of dr. franklin, as a philosopher, a politician, and a moralist, is too well known to require illustration, and his writings, from their interesting nature, and the fascinating simplicity of their style, are too highly esteemed, for any apology to be necessary for so large a collection of them, unless it should be deemed necessary by the individual to whom dr. franklin in his will consigned his manuscripts: and to him our apology will consist in a reference to his own extraordinary conduct._ _in bequeathing his papers, it was no doubt the intention of the testator, that the world should have the chance of being benefited by their publication. it was so understood by the person in question, his grandson, who, accordingly, shortly after the death of his great relative, hastened to london, the best mart for literary property, employed an amanuensis for many months in copying, ransacked our public libraries that nothing might escape, and at length had so far prepared the works of dr. franklin for the press, that proposals were made by him to several of our principal booksellers for the sale of them. they were to form three quarto volumes, and were to contain all the writings, published and unpublished, of franklin, with memoirs of his life, brought down by himself to the year , and continued to his death by the legatee. they were to be published in three different languages, and the countries corresponding to those languages, france, germany, and england, on the same day. the terms asked for the copyright of the english edition were high, amounting to several thousand pounds, which occasioned a little demur; but eventually they would no doubt have been obtained. nothing more however was heard of the proposals or the work, in this its fair market. the proprietor, it seems, had found a bidder of a different description in some emissary of government, whose object was to withhold the manuscripts from the world, not to benefit it by their publication; and they thus either passed into other hands, or the person to whom they were bequeathed received a remuneration for suppressing them. this at least has been asserted, by a variety of persons, both in this country and america, of whom some were at the time intimate with the grandson, and not wholly unacquainted with the machinations of the ministry; and the silence, which has been observed for so many years respecting the publication, gives additional credibility to the report._ _what the manuscripts contained, that should have excited the jealousy of government, we are unable, as we have never seen them, positively to affirm; but, from the conspicuous part acted by the author in the american revolution and the wars connected with it, it is by no means difficult to guess; and of this we are sure, from his character, that no disposition of his writings could have been more contrary to his intentions or wishes._ _we have only to add, that in the present collection, which is probably all that will ever be published of the works of this extraordinary man, the papers are methodically arranged, the moral and philosophical ones according to their subjects, the political ones, as nearly as may be, according to their dates; that we have given, in notes, the authorities for ascribing the different pieces to franklin; that where no title existed, to indicate the nature of a letter or paper, we have prefixed a title; and lastly, that we have compiled an index to the whole, which is placed at the beginning, instead of, as is usual, at the end of the work, to render the volumes more equal._ _april , ._ contents. vol. i. _page._ life of dr. franklin letters and papers on electricity. introductory letter. wonderful effect of points.--positive and negative electricity.--electrical kiss.--counterfeit spider.--simple and commodious electrical machine. observations on the leyden bottle, with experiments proving the different electrical state of its different surfaces. further experiments confirming the preceding observations.--leyden bottle analysed.--electrical battery.--magical picture.--electrical wheel or jack.--electrical feast. observations and suppositions, towards forming a new hypothesis, for explaining the several phenomena of thunder-gusts. introductory letter to some additional papers. opinions and conjectures, concerning the properties and effects of the electrical matter, and the means of preserving buildings, ships, &c. from lightning, arising from experiments and observations made at philadelphia, .--golden fish.--extraction of effluvial virtues by electricity impracticable. additional experiments: proving that the leyden bottle has no more electrical fire in it when charged, than before: nor less when discharged: that in discharging, the fire does not issue from the wire and the coating at the same time, as some have thought, but that the coating always receives what is discharged by the wire, or an equal quantity: the outer surface being always in a negative state of electricity, when the inner surface is in a positive state. accumulation of the electrical fire proved to be in the electrified glass.--effect of lightning on the needle of compasses, explained.--gunpowder fired by the electric flame. unlimited nature of the electric force. the terms, electric per se, and non-electric, improper.--new relation between metals and water.--effects of air in electrical experiments.--experiment for discovering more of the qualities of the electric fluid. mistake, that only metals and water were conductors, rectified.--supposition of a region of electric fire above our atmosphere.--theorem concerning light.--poke-weed a cure for cancers. new experiments.--paradoxes inferred from them.--difference in the electricity of a globe of glass charged, and a globe of sulphur.--difficulty of ascertaining which is positive and which negative. probable cause of the different attractions and repulsions of the two electrified globes mentioned in the two preceding letters. reasons for supposing, that the glass globe charges positively, and the sulphur negatively.--hint respecting a leather globe for experiments when travelling. _ibid._ electrical kite. hypothesis, of the sea being the grand source of lightning, retracted.--positive, and sometimes negative, electricity of the clouds discovered.--new experiments and conjectures in support of this discovery.--observations recommended for ascertaining the direction of the electric fluid.--size of rods for conductors to buildings.--appearance of a thunder-cloud described. additional proofs of the positive and negative state of electricity in the clouds.--new method of ascertaining it. electrical experiments, with an attempt to account for their several phenomena, &c. experiments made in pursuance of those made by mr. canton, dated december , ; with explanations, by mr. benjamin franklin. turkey killed by electricity.--effect of a shock on the operator in making the experiment. differences in the qualities of glass.--account of domien, an electrician and traveller.--conjectures respecting the pores of glass.--origin of the author's idea of drawing down lightning.--no satisfactory hypothesis respecting the manner in which clouds become electrified.--six men knocked down at once by an electrical shock.--reflections on the spirit of invention. beccaria's work on electricity.--sentiments of franklin on pointed rods, not fully understood in europe.--effect of lightning on the church of newbury, in new england.--remarks on the subject. notice of another packet of letters. extract of a letter from a gentleman in boston, to benjamin franklin, esq. concerning the crooked direction, and the source of lightning, and the swiftness of the electric fire. observations on the subjects of the preceding letter.--reasons for supposing the sea to be the grand source of lightning.--reasons for doubting this hypothesis.--improvement in a globe for raising the electric fire. effect of lightning on captain waddel's compass, and the dutch church at new york. proposal of an experiment to measure the time taken up by an electric spark, in moving through any given space. experiments on boiling water, and glass heated by boiling water.--doctrine of repulsion in electrised bodies doubted.--electricity of the atmosphere at different heights.--electrical horse-race.--electrical thermometer.--in what cases the electrical fire produces heat.--wire lengthened by electricity.--good effect of a rod on the house of mr. west, of philadelphia. answer to some of the foregoing subjects.--how long the leyden bottle may be kept charged.--heated glass rendered permeable by the electric fluid.--electrical attraction and repulsion.--reply to other subjects in the preceding paper.--numerous ways of kindling fire.--explosion of water.--knobs and points. accounts from carolina (mentioned in the foregoing letter) of the effects of lightning on two of the rods commonly affixed to houses there, for securing them against lightning. mr. william maine's account of the effects of the lightning on his rod, dated at indian land, in south carolina, aug. , . on the electricity of the tourmalin. new observation relating to electricity in the atmosphere. flash of lightning that struck st. bride's steeple. best method of securing a powder magazine from lightning. of lightning, and the methods (now used in america) of securing buildings and persons from its mischievous effects. st. bride's steeple.--utility of electrical conductors to steeples.--singular kind of glass tube. experiments, observations, and facts, tending to support the opinion of the utility of long pointed rods, for securing buildings from damage by strokes of lightning. on the utility of electrical conductors. on the effects of electricity in paralytic cases. electrical experiments on amber. on the electricity of the fogs in ireland. mode of ascertaining, whether the power, giving a shock to those who touch either the surinam eel, or the torpedo, be electrical. on the analogy between magnetism and electricity. concerning the mode of rendering meat tender by electricity. answer to some queries concerning the choice of glass for the leyden experiment. concerning the leyden bottle. appendix. no. . account of experiments made in electricity at marly. a more particular account of the same, &c. letter of mr. w. watson, f. r. s. to the royal society, concerning the electrical experiments in england upon thunder-clouds. no. . remarks on the abbé nollet's letters to benjamin franklin, esq. of philadelphia, on electricity. list of the plates plate i. electrical experiments facing page plate ii. electrical air thermometer plate iii. cavendish experiment plate iv. lightning rod experiments _errata._ _page._ _line._ : for true, read me. : for was born, read who was born. : for tryon, read tyron's. _ib._ from the bottom: for put to blush, read put to the blush. _ib._ from the bottom: for myself, read by myself. : for collection, read works. from the bottom: for or, read nor. from the bottom: for pasquenades, read pasquinades. : dele the. _ib._ : for printer, read a printer. from the bottom: for my old favourite work, bunyan's voyages, read my old favourite bunyan. : for money, read in money. : for bernet, read burnet. _ib._ : for unabled, read unable. : for ingenuous, read ingenious. : dele bridge. from the bottom: for into, read into which. : substitute + for *. : for course read cause. life of _dr. benjamin franklin._ _life_ of dr. benjamin franklin, &c. &c. my dear son, i have amused myself with collecting some little anecdotes of my family. you may remember the enquiries i made, when you were with me in england, among such of my relations as were then living; and the journey i undertook for that purpose. to be acquainted with the particulars of my parentage and life, many of which are unknown to you, i flatter myself will afford the same pleasure to you as to me. i shall relate them upon paper: it will be an agreeable employment of a week's uninterrupted leisure, which i promise myself during my present retirement in the country. there are also other motives which induce me to the undertaking. from the bosom of poverty and obscurity, in which i drew my first breath, and spent my earliest years, i have raised myself to a state of opulence and to some degree of celebrity in the world. a constant good fortune has attended me through every period of life to my present advanced age; and my descendants may be desirous of learning what were the means of which i made use, and which, thanks to the assisting hand of providence, have proved so eminently successful. they may also, should they ever be placed in a similar situation, derive some advantage from my narrative. when i reflect, as i frequently do, upon the felicity i have enjoyed, i sometimes say to myself, that, were the offer made me, i would engage to run again, from beginning to end, the same career of life. all i would ask, should be the privilege of an author, to correct, in a second edition, certain errors of the first. i could wish, likewise if it were in my power, to change some trivial incidents and events for others more favourable. were this, however, denied me, still would i not decline the offer. but since a repetition of life cannot take place, there is nothing which, in my opinion, so nearly resembles it, as to call to mind all its circumstances, and, to render their remembrance more durable, commit them to writing. by thus employing myself, i shall yield to the inclination, so natural in old men, to talk of themselves and their exploits, and may freely follow my bent, without being tiresome to those who, from respect to my age, might think themselves obliged to listen to me; as they will be at liberty to read me or not as they please. in fine--and i may as well avow it, since nobody would believe me were i to deny it--i shall perhaps, by this employment, gratify my vanity. scarcely indeed have i ever read or heard the introductory phrase, "_i may say without vanity_," but some striking and characteristic instance of vanity has immediately followed. the generality of men hate vanity in others, however strongly they may be tinctured with it themselves: for myself, i pay obeisance to it wherever i meet with it, persuaded that it is advantageous, as well to the individual whom it governs, as to those who are within the sphere of its influence. of consequence, it would in many cases, not be wholly absurd, that a man should count his vanity among the other sweets of life, and give thanks to providence for the blessing. and here let me with all humility acknowledge, that to divine providence i am indebted for the felicity i have hitherto enjoyed. it is that power alone which has furnished me with the means i have employed, and that has crowned them with success. my faith in this respect leads me to hope, though i cannot count upon it, that the divine goodness will still be exercised towards me, either by prolonging the duration of my happiness to the close of life, or by giving me fortitude to support any melancholy reverse, which may happen to me, as to so many others. my future fortune is unknown but to him in whose hand is our destiny, and who can make our very afflictions subservient to our benefit. one of my uncles, desirous, like myself, of collecting anecdotes of our family, gave me some notes, from which i have derived many particulars respecting our ancestors. from these i learn, that they had lived in the same village (eaton in northamptonshire,) upon a freehold of about thirty acres, for the space at least of three hundred years. how long they had resided there prior to that period, my uncle had been unable to discover; probably ever since the institution of surnames, when they took the appellation of franklin, which had formerly been the name of a particular order of individuals.[ ] this petty estate would not have sufficed for their subsistence, had they not added the trade of blacksmith, which was perpetuated in the family down to my uncle's time, the eldest son having been uniformly brought up to this employment: a custom which both he and my father observed with respect to their eldest sons. in the researches i made at eaton, i found no account of their births, marriages, and deaths, earlier than the year ; the parish register not extending farther back than that period. this register informed me, that i was the youngest son of the youngest branch of the family, counting five generations. my grandfather, thomas, who was born in , lived at eaton till he was too old to continue his trade, when he retired to banbury in oxfordshire, where his son john, who was a dyer, resided, and with whom my father was apprenticed. he died, and was buried there: we saw his monument in . his eldest son lived in the family house at eaton, which he bequeathed, with the land belonging to it, to his only daughter; who, in concert with her husband, mr. fisher of wellingborough, afterwards sold it to mr. estead, the present proprietor. my grandfather had four surviving sons, thomas, john, benjamin, and josias. i shall give you such particulars of them as my memory will furnish, not having my papers here, in which you will find a more minute account, if they are not lost during my absence. thomas had learned the trade of a blacksmith under his father; but possessing a good natural understanding, he improved it by study, at the solicitation of a gentleman of the name of palmer, who was at that time the principal inhabitant of the village, and who encouraged, in like manner, all my uncles to cultivate their minds. thomas thus rendered himself competent to the functions of a country attorney; soon became an essential personage in the affairs of the village; and was one of the chief movers of every public enterprise, as well relative to the county as the town of northampton. a variety of remarkable incidents were told us of him at eaton. after enjoying the esteem and patronage of lord halifax, he died, january , , precisely four years before i was born. the recital that was made us of his life and character, by some aged persons of the village, struck you, i remember, as extraordinary, from its analogy to what you knew of myself. "had he died," said you, "just four years later, one might have supposed a transmigration of souls." john, to the best of my belief, was brought up to the trade of a wool-dyer. benjamin served his apprenticeship in london to a silk-dyer. he was an industrious man: i remember him well; for, while i was a child, he joined my father at boston, and lived for some years in the house with us. a particular affection had always subsisted between my father and him; and i was his godson. he arrived to a great age. he left behind him two quarto volumes of poems in manuscript, consisting of little fugitive pieces addressed to his friends. he had invented a short-hand, which he taught me, but having never made use of it, i have now forgotten it. he was a man of piety, and a constant attendant on the best preachers, whose sermons he took a pleasure in writing down according, to the expeditory method he had devised. many volumes were thus collected by him. he was also extremely fond of politics, too much so, perhaps, for his situation. i lately found in london a collection which he had made of all the principal pamphlets relative to public affairs, from the year to . many volumes are wanting, as appears by the series of numbers; but there still remain eight in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and octavo. the collection had fallen into the hands of a second-hand bookseller, who, knowing me by having sold me some books, brought it to me. my uncle, it seems, had left it behind him on his departure for america, about fifty years ago. i found various notes of his writing in the margins. his grandson, samuel, is now living at boston. our humble family had early embraced the reformation. they remained faithfully attached during the reign of queen mary, when they were in danger of being molested on account of their zeal against popery. they had an english bible, and, to conceal it the more securely, they conceived the project of fastening it, open, with pack-threads across the leaves, on the inside of the lid of the close-stool. when my great-grandfather wished to read to his family, he reversed the lid of the close-stool upon his knees, and passed the leaves from one side to the other, which were held down on each by the pack-thread. one of the children was stationed at the door, to give notice if he saw the proctor (an officer of the spiritual court) make his appearance: in that case, the lid was restored to its place, with the bible concealed under it as before. i had this anecdote from my uncle benjamin. the whole family preserved its attachment to the church of england till towards the close of the reign of charles ii. when certain ministers, who had been ejected as nonconformists, having held conventicles in northamptonshire, they were joined by benjamin and josias, who adhered to them ever after. the rest of the family continued in the episcopal church. my father, josias, married early in life. he went, with his wife and three children, to new england, about the year . conventicles being at that time prohibited by law, and frequently disturbed, some considerable persons of his acquaintance determined to go to america, where they hoped to enjoy the free exercise of their religion, and my father was prevailed on to accompany them. my father had also by the same wife, four children born in america, and ten others by a second wife, making in all seventeen. i remember to have seen thirteen seated together at his table, who all arrived to years of maturity, and were married. i was the last of the sons, and the youngest child, excepting two daughters. i was born at boston in new england. my mother, the second wife, was abiah folger, daughter of peter folger, one of the first colonists of new england, of whom cotton mather makes honourable mention, in his ecclesiastical history of that province, as "_a pious and learned englishman_," if i rightly recollect his expressions. i have been told of his having written a variety of little pieces; but there appears to be only one in print, which i met with many years ago. it was published in the year , and is in familiar verse, agreeably to the taste of the times and the country. the author addresses himself to the governors for the time being, speaks for liberty of conscience, and in favour of the anabaptists, quakers, and other sectaries, who had suffered persecution. to this persecution he attributes the war with the natives, and other calamities which afflicted the country, regarding them as the judgments of god in punishment of so odious an offence, and he exhorts the government to the repeal of laws so contrary to charity. the poem appeared to be written with a manly freedom and a pleasing simplicity. i recollect the six concluding lines, though i have forgotten the order of words of the two first; the sense of which was, that his censures were dictated by benevolence, and that, of consequence, he wished to be known as the author; because, said he, i hate from my very soul dissimulation: from sherburn,[ ] where i dwell, i therefore put my name, your friend, who means you well, peter folger. my brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. with respect to myself, i was sent, at the age of eight years, to a grammar-school. my father destined me for the church, and already regarded me as the chaplain of the family. the promptitude with which from my infancy i had learned to read, for i do not remember to have been ever without this acquirement, and the encouragement of his friends, who assured him that i should one day certainly become a man of letters, confirmed him in this design. my uncle benjamin approved also of the scheme, and promised to give me all his volumes of sermons, written, as i have said, in the short-hand of his invention, if i would take the pains to learn it. i remained, however, scarcely a year at the grammar-school, although, in this short interval, i had risen from the middle to the head of my class, from thence to the class immediately above, and was to pass, at the end of the year, to the one next in order. but my father, burdened with a numerous family, found that he was incapable, without subjecting himself to difficulties, of providing for the expences of a collegiate education; and considering besides, as i heard him say to his friends, that persons so educated were often poorly provided for, he renounced his first intentions, took me from the grammar-school, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a mr. george brownwell, who was a skilful master, and succeeded very well in his profession by employing gentle means only, and such as were calculated to encourage his scholars. under him i soon acquired an excellent hand; but i failed in arithmetic, and made therein no sort of progress. at ten years of age, i was called home to assist my father in his occupation, which was that of a soap-boiler and tallow-chandler; a business to which he had served no apprenticeship, but which he embraced on his arrival in new england, because he found his own, that of dyer, in too little request to enable him to maintain his family, i was accordingly employed in cutting the wicks, filling the moulds, taking care of the shop, carrying messages, &c. this business displeased me, and i felt a strong inclination for a sea life; but my father set his face against it. the vicinity of the water, however, gave me frequent opportunities, of venturing myself both upon and within it, and i soon acquired the art of swimming, and of managing a boat. when embarked with other children, the helm was commonly deputed to me, particularly on difficult occasions; and, in every other project, i was almost always the leader of the troop, whom i sometimes involved in embarrassments. i shall give an instance of this, which demonstrates an early disposition of mind for public enterprises, though the one in question was not conducted by justice. the mill-pond was terminated on one side by a marsh, upon the borders of which we were accustomed to take our stand, at high water, to angle for small fish. by dint of walking, we had converted the place into a perfect quagmire. my proposal was to erect a wharf that should afford us firm footing; and i pointed out to my companions a large heap of stones, intended for the building a new house near the marsh, and which were well adapted for our purpose. accordingly, when the workmen retired in the evening, i assembled a number of my play-fellows, and by labouring diligently, like ants, sometimes four of us uniting our strength to carry a single stone, we removed them all, and constructed our little quay. the workmen were surprised the next morning at not finding their stones; which had been conveyed to our wharf. enquiries were made respecting the authors of this conveyance; we were discovered; complaints were exhibited against us; and many of us underwent correction on the part of our parents; and though i strenuously defended the utility of the work, my father at length convinced me, that nothing which was not strictly honest could be useful. it will not, perhaps, be uninteresting to you to know what a sort of man my father was. he had an excellent constitution, was of a middle size, but well made and strong, and extremely active in whatever he undertook. he designed with a degree of neatness, and knew a little of music. his voice was sonorous and agreeable; so that when he sung a psalm or hymn, with the accompaniment of his violin, as was his frequent practice in an evening, when the labours of the day were finished, it was truly delightful to hear him. he was versed also in mechanics, and could, upon occasion, use the tools of a variety of trades. but his greatest excellence was a sound understanding and solid judgment, in matters of prudence, both in public and private life. in the former, indeed, he never engaged, because his numerous family, and the mediocrity of his fortune, kept him unremittingly employed in the duties of his profession. but i well remember, that the leading men of the place used frequently to come and ask his advice respecting the affairs of the town, or of the church to which he belonged, and that they paid much deference to his opinion. individuals were also in the habit of consulting him in their private affairs, and he was often chosen arbiter between contending parties. he was fond of having at his table, as often as possible, some friends or well-informed neighbours, capable of rational conversation, and he was always careful to introduce useful or ingenious topics of discourse, which might tend to form the minds of his children. by this means he early attracted our attention to what was just, prudent, and beneficial in the conduct of life. he never talked of the meats which appeared upon the table, never discussed whether they were well or ill dressed, of a good or bad flavour, high-seasoned or otherwise, preferable or inferior to this or that dish of a similar kind. thus accustomed, from my infancy, to the utmost inattention as to these objects, i have been perfectly regardless of what kind of food was before me; and i pay so little attention to it even now, that it would be a hard matter for me to recollect, a few hours after i had dined, of what my dinner had consisted. when travelling, i have particularly experienced the advantage of this habit; for it has often happened to me to be in company with persons, who, having a more delicate, because a more exercised taste, have suffered in many cases considerable inconvenience; while, as to myself, i have had nothing to desire. my mother was likewise possessed of an excellent constitution. she suckled all her ten children, and i never heard either her or my father complain of any other disorder than that of which they died: my father at the age of eighty-seven, and my mother at eighty-five. they are buried together at boston, where, a few years ago, i placed a marble over their grave, with this inscription: "here lie josias franklin and abiah his wife: they lived together with reciprocal affection for fifty-nine years; and without private fortune, without lucrative employment, by assiduous labour and honest industry, decently supported a numerous family, and educated with success, thirteen children, and seven grand children. let this example, reader, encourage thee diligently to discharge the duties of thy calling, and to rely on the support of divine providence, he was pious and prudent, she discreet and virtuous. their youngest son, from a sentiment of filial duty, consecrates this stone to their memory." i perceive, by my rambling digressions, that i am growing old. but we do not dress for a private company as for a formal ball. this deserves, perhaps, the name of negligence. to return. i thus continued employed in my father's trade for the space of two years; that is to say, till i arrived at twelve years of age. about this time my brother john, who had served his apprenticeship in london, having quitted my father, and being married and settled in business on his own account at rhode island, i was destined, to all appearance to supply his place, and be a candle-maker all my life: but my dislike of this occupation continuing, my father was apprehensive, that, if a more, agreeable one were not offered me, i might play the truant and escape to sea; as, to his extreme mortification, my brother josias had done. he therefore took me sometimes to see masons, coopers, braziers, joiners, and other mechanics, employed at their work; in order to discover the bent of my inclination, and fix it if he could upon some occupation that might retain me on shore. i have since, in consequence of these visits, derived no small pleasure from seeing skilful workmen handle their tools; and it has proved of considerable benefit to have acquired thereby sufficient knowledge to be able to make little things for myself, when i have had no mechanic at hand, and to construct small machines for my experiments, while the idea i have conceived has been fresh and strongly impressed on my imagination. my father at length decided that i should be a cutler, and i was placed for some days upon trial with my cousin samuel, son of my uncle benjamin, who had learned this trade in london, and had established himself at boston. but the premium he required for my apprenticeship displeasing my father, i was recalled home. from my earliest years i had been passionately fond of reading, and i laid out in books all the money i could procure. i was particularly pleased with accounts of voyages. my first acquisition was bunyan's works in small separate volumes. these i afterwards sold in order to buy an historical collection by r. burton, which consisted of small cheap volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. my father's little library was principally made up of books of practical and polemical theology. i read the greatest part of them. i have since often regretted that at a time when i had so great a thirst for knowledge, more eligible books had not fallen into my hands, as it was then a point decided that i should not be educated for the church. there was also among my father's books, plutarch's lives, in which i read continually, and i still regard as advantageously employed the time devoted to them. i found besides a work of de foe's, entitled an essay on projects, from which, perhaps, i derived impressions that have since influenced some of the principal events of my life. my inclination for books at last determined my father to make me a printer, though he had already a son in that profession. my brother had returned from england in , with a press and types, in order to establish a printing-house at boston. this business pleased me much better than that of my father, though i had still a predilection for the sea. to prevent the effects which might result from this inclination, my father was impatient to see me engaged with my brother. i held back for some time; at length, however, i suffered myself to be persuaded, and signed my indentures, being then only twelve years of age. it was agreed that i should serve as an apprentice to the age of twenty-one, and should receive journeyman's wages only during the last year. in a very short time i made great proficiency in this business, and became very serviceable to my brother. i had now an opportunity of procuring better books. the acquaintance i necessarily formed with booksellers' apprentices, enabled me to borrow a volume now and then, which i never failed to return punctually and without injury. how often has it happened to me to pass the greater part of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book had been lent me in the evening, and was to be returned the next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted! at length, mr. matthew adams, an ingenious tradesman, who had a handsome collection of books, and who frequented our printing-house, took notice of me. he invited me to see his library, and had the goodness to lend me any books i was desirous of reading. i then took a strange fancy for poetry, and composed several little pieces. my brother, thinking he might find his account in it, encouraged me, and engaged me to write two ballads. one, called the light-house tragedy, contained an account of the shipwreck of captain worthilake and his two daughters; the other was a sailor's song on the capture of the noted pirate called _teach_, or _blackbeard_. they were wretched verses in point of style, mere blind-men's ditties. when printed, he dispatched me about the town to sell them. the first had a prodigious run, because the event was recent, and had made a great noise. my vanity was flattered by this success; but my father checked my exultation, by ridiculing my productions, and telling me that versifiers were always poor. i thus escaped the misfortune of being a very wretched poet. but as the faculty of writing prose has been of great service to me in the course of my life, and principally contributed to my advancement, i shall relate by what means, situated as i was, i acquired the small skill i may possess in that way. there was in the town another young man, a great lover of books, of the name of john collins, with whom i was intimately connected. we frequently engaged in dispute, and were indeed so fond of argumentation, that nothing was so agreeable to us as a war of words. this contentious temper, i would observe by the bye, is in danger of becoming a very bad habit; and frequently renders a man's company insupportable, as being no otherwise capable of indulgence than by an indiscriminate contradiction. independently of the acrimony and discord it introduces into conversation, it is often productive of dislike, and even hatred, between persons to whom friendship is indispensibly necessary. i acquired it by reading, while i lived with my father, books of religious controversy. i have since remarked, that men of sense seldom fall into this error: lawyers, fellows of universities, and persons of every profession educated at edinburgh, excepted. collins and i fell one day into an argument, relative to the education of women; namely, whether it was proper to instruct them in the sciences, and whether they were competent to the study. collins supported the negative, and affirmed that the task was beyond their capacity. i maintained the opposite opinion, a little perhaps for the pleasure of disputing. he was naturally more eloquent than i; words flowed copiously from his lips; and frequently i thought myself vanquished, more by his volubility than by the force of his arguments. we separated without coming to an agreement upon this point, and as we were not to see each other again for some time, i committed my thoughts to paper, made a fair copy, and sent it him. he answered, and i replied. three or four letters had been written by each, when my father chanced to light upon my papers and read them. without entering into the merits of the cause, he embraced the opportunity of speaking to me upon my manner of writing. he observed, that though i had the advantage of my adversary in correct spelling and pointing, which i owed to my occupation, i was greatly his inferior in elegance of expression, in arrangement, and perspicuity. of this he convinced me by several examples. i felt the justice of his remarks, became more attentive to language, and resolved to make every effort to improve my style. amidst these resolves an odd volume of the spectator fell into my hands. this was a publication i had never seen. i bought the volume, and read it again and again. i was enchanted with it, thought the style excellent, and wished it were in my power to imitate it. with this view i selected some of the papers, made short summaries of the sense of each period, and put them for a few days aside. i then, without looking at the book, endeavoured to restore the essays to their due form, and to express each thought at length, as it was in the original, employing the most appropriate words that occurred to my mind. i afterwards compared my spectator with the original; i perceived some faults, which i corrected: but i found that i wanted a fund of words, if i may so express myself, and a facility of recollecting and employing them, which i thought i should by that time have acquired, had i continued to make verses. the continual need of words of the same meaning, but of different lengths for the measure, or of different sounds for the rhyme, would have obliged me to seek for a variety of synonymes, and have rendered me master of them. from this belief, i took some of the tales of the spectator and turned them into verse; and after a time, when i had sufficiently forgotten them, i again converted them into prose. sometimes also i mingled all my summaries together; and a few weeks after, endeavoured to arrange them in the best order, before i attempted to form the periods and complete the essays. this i did with a view of acquiring method in the arrangement of my thoughts. on comparing afterwards my performance with the original, many faults were apparent, which i corrected; but i had sometimes the satisfaction to think, that, in certain particulars of little importance, i had been fortunate enough to improve the order of thought or the style; and this encouraged me to hope that i should succeed, in time, in writing decently in the english language, which was one of the great objects of my ambition. the time which i devoted to these exercises, and to reading, was the evening after my day's labour was finished, the morning before it began, and sundays when i could escape attending divine service. while i lived with my father, he had insisted on my punctual attendance on public worship, and i still indeed considered it as a duty, but a duty which i thought i had no time to practise. when about sixteen years of age, a work of tyron's fell into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable diet. i determined to observe it. my brother being a bachelor, did not keep house, but boarded with his apprentices in a neighbouring family. my refusing to eat animal food was found inconvenient, and i was often scolded for my singularity. i attended to the mode in which tryon prepared some of his dishes, particularly how to boil potatoes and rice, and make hasty puddings. i then said to my brother, that if he would allow me per week half what he paid for my board, i would undertake to maintain myself. the offer was instantly embraced, and i soon found that of what he gave me, i was able to save half. this was a new fund for the purchase of books; and other advantages resulted to me from the plan. when my brother and his workmen left the printing-house to go to dinner, i remained behind; and dispatching my frugal meal, which frequently consisted of a biscuit only, or a slice of bread and a bunch of raisins, or a bun from the pastry-cook's, with a glass of water, i had the rest of the time, till their return, for study; and my progress therein was proportioned to that clearness of ideas, and quickness of conception, which are the fruit of temperance in eating and drinking. it was about this period, that having one day been put to the blush for my ignorance in the art of calculation, which i had twice failed to learn while at school, i took cocker's treatise of arithmetic, and went through it by myself with the utmost ease. i also read a book of navigation by seller and sturmy, and made myself master of the little geometry it contains, but i never proceeded far in this science. nearly at the same time i read locke on the human understanding, and the art of thinking, by messrs. du port royal. while labouring to form and improve my style, i met with an english grammar, which i believe was greenwood's, having at the end of it two little essays on rhetoric and logic. in the latter i found a model of disputation, after the manner of socrates. shortly after i procured xenophon's work, entitled memorable things of socrates, in which are various examples of the same method. charmed to a degree of enthusiasm with this mode of disputing, i adopted it, and renouncing blunt contradiction, and direct and positive argument, i assumed the character of an humble questioner. the perusal of shaftsbury and collins had made me a sceptic; and being previously so as to many doctrines of christianity, i found socrates's method to be both safest for myself, as well as the most embarrassing to those against whom i employed it. it soon afforded me singular pleasure; i incessantly practised it; and became very adroit in obtaining, even from persons of superior understanding, concessions of which they did not foresee the consequence. thus i involved them in difficulties from which they were unable to extricate themselves, and sometimes obtained victories, which neither my cause nor my arguments merited. this method i continued to employ for some years; but i afterwards abandoned it by degrees, retaining only the habit of expressing myself with modest diffidence, and never making use, when i advanced any proposition which might be controverted, of the words _certainly_, _undoubtedly_, or any others that might give the appearance of being obstinately attached to my opinion. i rather said, i imagine, i suppose, or it appears to me, that such a thing is so or so, for such and such reasons; or it is so, if i am not mistaken. this habit has, i think, been of considerable advantage to me, when i have had occasion to impress my opinion on the minds of others, and persuade them to the adoption of the measures i have suggested. and since the chief ends of conversation are, to inform or be informed, to please or to persuade, i could wish that intelligent or well-meaning men would not themselves diminish the power they possess of being useful, by a positive and presumptuous manner of expressing themselves, which scarcely ever fails to disgust the hearer, and is only calculated to excite opposition, and defeat every purpose for which the faculty of speech has been bestowed on man. in short, if you wish to inform, a positive and dogmatical manner of advancing your opinion may provoke contradiction, and prevent your being heard with attention. on the other hand, if, with a desire of being informed, and of benefiting by the knowledge of others, you express yourselves as being strongly attached to your own opinions, modest and sensible men, who do not love disputation, will leave you in tranquil possession of your errors. by following such a method, you can rarely hope to please your auditors, conciliate their good-will, or work conviction on those whom you may be desirous of gaining over to your views. pope judiciously observes, men must be taught, as if you taught them not, and things unknown propos'd--as things forgot. and in the same poem he afterwards advises us to speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence. he might have added to these lines, one that he has coupled elsewhere, in my opinion, with less propriety. it is this: for want of modesty is want of sense. if you ask why i say with _less propriety_, i must give you the two lines together: immodest words admit of _no defence_, for want of decency is want of sense. now want of sense, when a man has the misfortune to be so circumstanced, is it not a kind of excuse for want of modesty? and would not the verses have been more accurate if they had been constructed thus: immodest words admit _but this defence_, that want of decency is want of sense. but i leave the decision of this to better judges than myself. in , or , my brother began to print a new public paper. it was the second that made its appearance in america, and was entitled, "the new england courant." the only one that existed before was the "boston news letter." some of his friends, i remember, would have dissuaded him from this undertaking, as a thing that was not likely to succeed; a single newspaper being, in their opinion, sufficient for all america. at present, however, in , there are no less than twenty-five. but he carried his project into execution, and i was employed in distributing the copies to his customers, after having assisted in composing and working them off. among his friends he had a number of literary characters, who, as an amusement, wrote short essays for the paper, which gave it reputation and increased the sale. these gentlemen frequently came to our house. i heard the conversation that passed, and the accounts they gave of the favourable reception of their writings with the public. i was tempted to try my hand among them; but, being still a child as it were, i was fearful that my brother might be unwilling to print in his paper any performance of which he should know me to be the author. i therefore contrived to disguise my hand, and having written an anonymous piece, i placed it at night under the door of the printing-house, where it was found the next morning. my brother communicated it to his friends, when they came as usual to see him, who read it, commented upon it within my hearing, and i had the exquisite pleasure to find that it met with their approbation, and that in the various conjectures they made respecting the author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country for talents and genius. i now supposed myself fortunate in my judges, and began to suspect that they were not such excellent writers as i had hitherto supposed them. be this as it may, encouraged by this little adventure, i wrote, and sent to press in the same way, many other pieces, which were equally approved: keeping the secret till my slender stock of information and knowledge for such performances was pretty completely exhausted, when i made myself known. my brother, upon this discovery, began to entertain a little more respect for me; but he still regarded himself as my master, and treated me as an apprentice. he thought himself entitled to the same services from me, as from any other person. on the contrary, i conceived that in many instances, he was too rigorous, and that, on the part of a brother, i had a right to expect greater indulgence. our disputes were frequently brought before my father; and either my brother was generally wrong, or i was the better pleader of the two, for judgment was commonly given in my favour. but my brother was passionate, and often had recourse to blows--a circumstance which i took in very ill part. this severe and tyrannical treatment contributed, i believe, to imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary power, which during my whole life i have ever preserved. my apprenticeship became insupportable to me, and i continually sighed for an opportunity of shortening it, which at length unexpectedly offered. an article inserted in our paper, upon some political subject which i have now forgotten, gave offence to the assembly. my brother was taken into custody, censured, and ordered into confinement for a month, because, as i presume, he would not discover the author. i was also taken up, and examined before the council; but though i gave them no satisfaction, they contented themselves with reprimanding, and then dismissed me; considering me probably as bound, in quality of apprentice, to keep my master's secrets. the imprisonment of my brother kindled my resentment, notwithstanding our private quarrels. during its continuance, the management of the paper was entrusted to me, and i was bold enough to insert some pasquinades against the governors, which highly pleased my brother, while others began to look upon me in an unfavourable point of view, considering me as a young wit inclined to satire and lampoon. my brother's enlargement was accompanied with an arbitrary order from the house of the assembly, "that james franklin should no longer print the newspaper entitled 'the new england courant.'" in this conjuncture, we held a consultation of our friends at the printing-house, in order to determine what was proper to be done. some proposed to evade the order, by changing the title of the paper: but my brother, foreseeing inconveniences that would result from this step, thought it better that it should be in future printed in the name of benjamin franklin; and to avoid the censure of the assembly, who might charge him with still printing the paper himself under the name of his apprentice, it was resolved that my old indentures should be given up to me, with a full and entire discharge written on the back, in order to be produced upon an emergency; but that, to secure to my brother the benefit of my service, i should sign a new contract, which should be kept secret during the remainder of the term. this was a very shallow arrangement. it was, however, carried into immediate execution, and the paper continued, in consequence, to make its appearance for some months in my name. at length a new difference arising between my brother and me, i ventured to take advantage of my liberty, presuming that he would not dare to produce the new contract. it was undoubtedly dishonourable to avail myself of this circumstance, and i reckon this action as one of the first errors of my life; but i was little capable of estimating it at its true value, embittered as my mind had been by the recollection of the blows i had received. exclusively of his passionate treatment of me, my brother was by no means a man of an ill temper, and perhaps my manners had too much impertinence not to afford it a very natural pretext. when he knew that it was my determination to quit him, he wished to prevent my finding employment elsewhere. he went to all the printing-houses in the town, and prejudiced the masters against me--who accordingly refused to employ me. the idea then suggested itself to me of going to new york, the nearest town in which there was a printing-office. farther reflection confirmed me in the design of leaving boston, where i had already rendered myself an object of suspicion to the governing party. it was probable, from the arbitrary proceedings of the assembly in the affair of my brother, that, by remaining, i should soon have been exposed to difficulties, which i had the greater reason to apprehend, as, from my indiscreet disputes upon the subject of religion, i began to be regarded by pious souls with horror, either as an apostate or an atheist. i came, therefore, to a resolution: but my father, in this instance siding with my brother, presumed that if i attempted to depart openly, measures would be taken to prevent me. my friend collins undertook to favour my flight. he agreed for my passage with the captain of a new york sloop, to whom he represented me as a young man of his acquaintance, who had an affair with a girl of bad character, whose parents wished to compel me to marry her, and that of consequence i could neither make my appearance, nor go off publicly. i sold part of my books to procure a small sum of money, and went privately on board the sloop. by favour of a good wind, i found myself in three days at new york, nearly three hundred miles from my home, at the age only of seventeen years, without knowing an individual in the place, and with very little money in my pocket. the inclination i had felt for a sea-faring life had entirely subsided, or i should now have been able to gratify it; but having another trade, and believing myself to be a tolerable workman, i hesitated not to offer my services to old mr. william bradford, who had been the first printer in pennsylvania, but had quitted that province on account of a quarrel with george keith, the governor. he could not give me employment himself, having little to do, and already as many persons as he wanted; but he told me that his son, a printer at philadelphia, had lately lost his principal workman, aquilla rose, who was dead, and that if i would go thither, he believed that he would engage me. philadelphia was a hundred miles farther. i hesitated not to embark in a boat in order to repair, by the shortest cut of the sea, to amboy, leaving my trunk and effects to come after me by the usual and more tedious conveyance. in crossing the bay we met with a squall, which shattered to pieces our rotten sails, prevented us from entering the kill, and threw us upon long island. during the squall, a drunken dutchman, who like myself was a passenger in the boat, fell into the sea. at the moment that he was sinking, i seized him by the fore-top, saved him, and drew him on board. this immersion sobered him a little, so that he fell asleep, after having taken from his pocket a volume, which he requested me to dry. this volume i found to be my old favourite bunyan, in dutch, a beautiful impression on fine paper, with copper-plate engravings--a dress in which i had never seen it in its original language. i have since learned that it has been translated into almost all the languages of europe, and next to the bible, i am persuaded, it is one of the books which has had the greatest spread. honest john is the first, that i know of, who has mixed narrative and dialogue together; a mode of writing very engaging to the reader, who in the most interesting passages, finds himself admitted as it were into the company, and present at the conversation. de foe has imitated it with success in his robinson crusoe, his moll flanders, and other works; as also richardson in his pamela, &c. in approaching the island, we found that we had made a part of the coast where it was not possible to land, on account of the strong breakers produced by the rocky shore. we cast anchor and veered the cable towards the shore. some men, who stood upon the brink, halloed to us, while we did the same on our part; but the wind was so high, and the waves so noisy, that we could neither of us hear each other. there were some canoes upon the bank, and we called out to them, and made signs to prevail on them to come and take us up; but either they did not understand us, or they deemed our request impracticable, and withdrew. night came on, and nothing remained for us but to wait quietly the subsiding of the wind; till when, we determined, that is, the pilot and i, to sleep if possible. for that purpose we went below the hatches along with the dutchman, who was drenched with water. the sea broke over the boat, and reached us in our retreat, so that we were presently as completely drenched as he. we had very little repose during the whole night: but the wind abating the next day, we succeeded in reaching amboy before it was dark, after having passed thirty hours without provisions, and with no other drink than a bottle of bad rum, the water upon which we rowed being salt. in the evening i went to bed with a very violent fever. i had somewhere read that cold water, drank plentifully, was a remedy in such cases. i followed the prescription, was in a profuse sweat for the greater part of the night, and the fever left me. the next day i crossed the river in a ferryboat, and continued my journey on foot. i had fifty miles to walk, in order to reach burlington, where i was told i should find passage-boats that would convey me to philadelphia. it rained hard the whole day, so that i was wet to the skin. finding myself fatigued about noon, i stopped at a paltry inn, where i passed the rest of the day and the whole night, beginning to regret that i had quitted my home. i made besides so wretched a figure, that i was suspected to be some runaway servant. this i discovered by the questions that were asked me; and i felt that i was every moment in danger of being taken up as such. the next day, however, i continued my journey, and arrived in the evening at an inn, eight or ten miles from burlington, that was kept by one dr. brown. this man entered into conversation with me while i took some refreshment, and perceiving that i had read a little, he expressed towards me considerable interest and friendship. our acquaintance continued during the remainder of his life. i believe him to have been what is called an itinerant doctor; for there was no town in england, or indeed in europe, of which he could not give a particular account. he was neither deficient in understanding or literature, but he was a sad infidel; and, some years after, wickedly undertook to travesty the bible, in burlesque verse, as cotton has travestied virgil. he exhibited, by this means, many facts in a very ludicrous point of view, which would have given umbrage to weak minds, had his work been published, which it never was. i spent the night at his house, and reached burlington the next morning. on my arrival, i had the mortification to learn that the ordinary passage-boats had sailed a little before. this was on a saturday, and there would be no other boat till the tuesday following. i returned to the house of an old woman in the town who had sold me some gingerbread to eat on my passage, and i asked her advice. she invited me to take up my abode with her till an opportunity offered for me to embark. fatigued with having travelled so far on foot, i accepted her invitation. when she understood that i was a printer, she would have persuaded me to stay at burlington, and set up my trade; but she was little aware of the capital that would be necessary for such a purpose! i was treated while at her house with true hospitality. she gave me with the utmost good-will, a dinner of beef-steaks, and would accept of nothing in return but a pint of ale. here i imagined myself to be fixed till the tuesday in the ensuing week; but walking out in the evening by the river side, i saw a boat with a number of persons in it approach. it was going to philadelphia, and the company took me in. as there was no wind, we could only make way with our oars. about midnight, not perceiving the town, some of the company were of opinion that we must have passed it, and were unwilling to row any farther; the rest not knowing where we were, it was resolved that we should stop. we drew towards the shore, entered a creek, and landed near some old palisades, which served us for fire-wood, it being a cold night in october. here we stayed till day, when one of the company found the place in which we were to be cooper's creek, a little above philadelphia; which in reality we perceived the moment we were out of the creek. we arrived on sunday about eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and landed on market-street wharf. i have entered into the particulars of my voyage, and shall in like manner describe my first entrance into this city, that you may be able to compare beginnings so little auspicious, with the figure i have since made. on my arrival at philadelphia i was in my working dress, my best cloaths being to come by sea. i was covered with dirt; my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings; i was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek for a lodging. fatigued with walking, rowing, and having passed the night without sleep, i was extremely hungry, and all my money consisted of a dutch dollar, and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which i gave to the boatmen for my passage. as i had assisted them in rowing, they refused it at first; but i insisted on their taking it. a man is sometimes more generous when he has little, than when he has much money; probably because, in the first case, he is desirous of concealing his poverty. i walked towards the top of the street, looking eagerly on both sides, till i came to market-street, where i met a child with a loaf of bread. often had i made my dinner on dry bread. i enquired where he had bought it, and went straight to the baker's shop which he pointed out to me. i asked for some biscuits, expecting to find such as we had at boston; but they made, it seems, none of that sort at philadelphia. i then asked for a three-penny loaf; they made no loaves of that price. finding myself ignorant of the prices, as well as of the different kinds of bread, i desired him to let me have three penny-worth of bread of some kind or other. he gave me three large rolls. i was surprised at receiving so much: i took them, however, and having no room in my pockets, i walked on with a roll under each arm, eating the third. in this manner i went through market-street to fourth-street, and passed the house of mr. read, the father of my future wife. she was standing at the door, observed me, and thought with reason, that i made a very singular and grotesque appearance. i then turned the corner, and went through chesnut-street, eating my roll all the way; and having made this round, i found myself again on market-street wharf, near the boat in which i arrived. i stepped into it to take a draught of the river water; and finding myself satisfied with my first roll, i gave the other two to a woman and her child, who had come down the river with us in the boat, and was waiting to continue her journey. thus refreshed, i regained the street, which was now full of well-dressed people, all going the same way. i joined them, and was thus led to a large quaker's meeting-house near the market-place. i sat down with the rest, and after looking round me for some time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from my last night's labour and want of rest, i fell into a sound sleep. in this state i continued till the assembly dispersed, when one of the congregation had the goodness to wake me. this was consequently the first house i entered, or in which i slept, at philadelphia. i began again to walk along the street by the river side; and looking attentively in the face of every one i met, i at length perceived a young quaker whose countenance pleased me. i accosted him, and begged him to inform me where a stranger might find a lodging. we were then near the sign of the three mariners. they receive travellers here, said he, but it is not a house that bears a good character; if you will go with me, i will shew you a better one. he conducted me to the crooked-billet, in water-street. there i ordered something for dinner, and during my meal a number of curious questions were put to me; my youth and appearance exciting the suspicion of my being a runaway. after dinner my drowsiness returned, and i threw myself upon a bed without taking off my cloaths, and slept till six o'clock in the evening, when i was called to supper. i afterwards went to bed at a very early hour, and did not awake till the next morning. as soon as i got up i put myself in as decent a trim as i could, and went to the house of andrew bradford the printer. i found his father in the shop, whom i had seen at new york. having travelled on horseback, he had arrived at philadelphia before me. he introduced me to his son, who received me with civility, and gave me some breakfast; but told me he had no occasion at present for a journeyman, having lately procured one. he added, that there was another printer newly settled in the town, of the name of keimer, who might perhaps employ me; and that in case of refusal, i should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little work now and then, till something better should offer. the old man offered to introduce me to the new printer. when we were at his house: "neighbour," said he, "i bring you a young man in the printing business; perhaps you may have need of his services." keimer asked me some questions, put a composing stick in my hand to see how i could work, and then said, that at present he had nothing for me to do, but that he should soon be able to employ me. at the same time taking old bradford for an inhabitant of the town well-disposed towards him, he communicated his project to him, and the prospect he had of success. bradford was careful not to discover that he was the father of the other printer; and from what keimer had said, that he hoped shortly to be in possession of the greater part of the business of the town, led him by artful questions, and by starting some difficulties, to disclose all his views, what his hopes were founded upon, and how he intended to proceed. i was present, and heard it all. i instantly saw that one of the two was a cunning old fox, and the other a perfect novice. bradford left me with keimer, who was strangely surprised when i informed him who the old man was. i found keimer's printing materials to consist of an old damaged press, and a small fount of worn-out english letters, with which he himself was at work upon an elegy on aquila rose, whom i have mentioned above, an ingenious young man, and of an excellent character, highly esteemed in the town, secretary to the assembly, and a very tolerable poet. keimer also made verses, but they were indifferent ones. he could not be said to write in verse, for his method was to set the lines as they flowed from his muse; and as he worked without copy, had but one set of letter-cases, and the elegy would probably occupy all his types, it was impossible for any one to assist him. i endeavoured to put his press in order, which he had not yet used, and of which indeed he understood nothing: and having promised to come and work off his elegy as soon as it should be ready, i returned to the house of bradford, who gave me some trifle to do for the present, for which i had my board and lodging. in a few days keimer sent for me to print off his elegy. he had now procured another set of letter-cases, and had a pamphlet to re-print, upon which he set me to work. the two philadelphia printers appeared destitute of every qualification necessary in their profession. bradford had not been brought up to it, and was very illiterate. keimer, though he understood a little of the business, was merely a compositor, and wholly incapable of working at the press. he had been one of the french prophets; and knew how to imitate their supernatural agitations. at the time of our first acquaintance he professed no particular religion, but a little of all upon occasion. he was totally ignorant of the world, and a great knave at heart, as i had afterwards, an opportunity of experiencing. keimer could not endure that, working with him, i should lodge at bradford's. he had indeed a house, but it was unfurnished; so that he could not take me in. he procured me a lodging at mr. read's, his landlord, whom i have already mentioned. my trunk and effects being now arrived, i thought of making, in the eyes of miss read, a more respectable appearance than when chance exhibited me to her view, eating my roll, and wandering in the streets. from this period i began to contract acquaintance with such young people of the town as were fond of reading, and spent my evenings with them agreeably, while at the same time i gained money by my industry, and, thanks to my frugality, lived contented. i thus forgot boston as much as possible, and wished every one to be ignorant of the place of my residence, except my friend collins, to whom i wrote, and who kept my secret. an incident however arrived, which sent me home much sooner than i had proposed. i had a brother-in-law, of the name of robert holmes, master of a trading sloop from boston to delaware. being at newcastle, forty miles below philadelphia, he heard of me, and wrote to inform me of the chagrin which my sudden departure from boston had occasioned my parents, and of the affection which they still entertained for me, assuring me that, if i would return, every thing should be adjusted to my satisfaction; and he was very pressing in his entreaties. i answered his letter, thanked him for his advice, and explained the reasons which had induced me to quit boston, with such force and clearness, that he was convinced i had been less to blame than he had imagined. sir william keith, governor of the province, was at newcastle at the time. captain holmes, being by chance in his company when he received my letter, took occasion to speak of me, and showed it him. the governor read it, and appeared surprised when he learned my age. he thought me, he said, a young man of very promising talents, and that, of consequence, i ought to be encouraged; that there were at philadelphia none but very ignorant printers, and that if i were to set up for myself, he had no doubt of my success; that, for his own part, he would procure me all the public business, and would render me every other service in his power. my brother-in-law related all this to me afterwards at boston; but i knew nothing of it at the time; when one day keimer and i being at work together near the window, we saw the governor and another gentleman, colonel french, of newcastle, handsomely dressed, cross the street, and make directly for our house. we heard them at the door, and keimer believing it to be a visit to himself, went immediately down: but the governor enquired for me, came up stairs, and, with a condescension and politeness to which i had not at all been accustomed, paid me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, obligingly reproached me for not having made myself known to him on my arrival in the town, and wished me to accompany him to a tavern, where he and colonel french were going to taste some excellent madeira wine. i was, i confess, somewhat surprised, and keimer appeared thunderstruck. i went, however, with the governor and the colonel to a tavern at the corner of third-street, where, while we were drinking the madeira, he proposed to me to establish a printing-house. he set forth the probabilities of success, and himself, and colonel french assured me that i should have their protection and influence in obtaining the printing of the public papers of both governments; and as i appeared to doubt whether my father would assist me in this enterprize, sir william said that he would give me a letter to him, in which he would represent the advantages of the scheme, in a light which he had no doubt would determine him. it was thus concluded that i should return to boston by the first vessel, with the letter of recommendation, from the governor to my father. meanwhile the project was to be kept secret, and i continued to work for keimer as before. the governor sent every now and then to invite me to dine with him. i considered this as a very great honour; and i was the more sensible of it, as he conversed with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendly manner imaginable. towards the end of april , a small vessel was ready to sail for boston. i took leave of keimer, upon the pretext of going to see my parents. the governor gave me a long letter, in which he said many flattering things of me to my father; and strongly recommended the project of my settling at philadelphia, as a thing which could not fail to make my fortune. going down the bay we struck on a flat, and sprung a leak. the weather was very tempestuous, and we were obliged to pump without intermission; i took my turn. we arrived, however, safe and sound at boston, after about a fortnight's passage. i had been absent about seven complete months, and my relations, during that interval, had received no intelligence of me; for my brother-in-law, holmes, was not yet returned, and had not written about me. my unexpected appearance surprized the family; but they were all delighted at seeing me again, and, except my brother, welcomed me home. i went to him at the printing-house. i was better dressed than i had ever been while in his service: i had a complete suit of clothes, new and neat, a watch in my pocket, and my purse was furnished with nearly five pounds sterling in money. he gave me no very civil reception; and having eyed me from head to foot, resumed his work. the workmen asked me with eagerness where i had been, what sort of a country it was, and how i liked it. i spoke in the highest terms of philadelphia, the happy life we led there, and expressed my intention of going back again. one of them asking what sort of money we had, i displayed before them a handful of silver, which i drew from my pocket. this was a curiosity to which they were not accustomed, paper being the current money at boston. i failed not after this to let them see my watch; and at last, my brother continuing sullen and out of humour, i gave them a shilling to drink, and took my leave. this visit stung my brother to the soul; for when, shortly after, my mother spoke to him of a reconciliation, and a desire to see us upon good terms, he told her that i had so insulted him before his men, that he would never forget or forgive it: in this, however, he was mistaken. the governor's letter appeared to excite in my father some surprize; but he said little. after some days, captain holmes being returned, he showed it him, asking him if he knew keith, and what sort of a man he was: adding, that, in his opinion, it proved very little discernment to think of setting up a boy in business, who for three years to come would not be of an age to be ranked in the class of men. holmes said every thing he could in favour of the scheme; but my father firmly maintained its absurdity, and at last gave a positive refusal. he wrote, however, a civil letter to sir william, thanking him for the protection he had so obligingly offered me, but refusing to assist me for the present, because he thought me too young to be entrusted with the conduct of so important an enterprise, and which would require so considerable a sum of money. my old comrade collins, who was a clerk in the post-office, charmed with the account i gave of my new residence, expressed a desire of going thither; and while i waited my father's determination, he set off before me by land for rhode island, leaving his books, which formed a handsome collection in mathematics and natural philosophy, to be conveyed with mine to new york, where he purposed to wait for me. my father, though he could not approve sir william's proposal, was yet pleased that i had obtained so advantageous a recommendation as that of a person of his rank, and that my industry and economy had enabled me to equip myself so handsomely in so short a period. seeing no appearance of accommodating matters between my brother and me, he consented to my return to philadelphia, advised me to be civil to every body, to endeavour to obtain general esteem, and avoid satire and sarcasm, to which he thought i was too much inclined; adding, that with perseverance and prudent economy, i might, by the time i became of age, save enough to establish myself in business; and that if a small sum should then be wanting, he would undertake to supply it. this was all i could obtain from him, except some trifling presents, in token of friendship from him and my mother. i embarked once more for new york, furnished at this time with their approbation and blessing. the sloop having touched at newport in rhode island, i paid a visit to my brother john, who had for some years been settled there, and was married. he had always been attached to me, and he received me with great affection. one of his friends, whose name was vernon, having a debt of about thirty-six pounds due to him in pennsylvania, begged me to receive it for him, and to keep the money till i should hear from him: accordingly he gave me an order for that purpose. this affair occasioned me, in the sequel, much uneasiness. at newport we took on board a number of passengers; among whom were two young women, and a grave and sensible quaker lady with her servants. i had shown an obliging forwardness in rendering the quaker some trifling services, which led her, probably, to feel an interest in my welfare; for when she saw a familiarity take place, and every day increase, between the two young women and me, she took me aside and said: "young man, i am in pain for thee. thou hast no parent to watch over thy conduct, and thou seemest to be ignorant of the world, and the snares to which youth is exposed. rely upon what i tell thee: those are women of bad characters; i perceive it in all their actions. if thou dost not take care, they will lead thee into danger. they are strangers to thee, and i advise thee, by the friendly interest i take in thy preservation, to form no connection with them." as i appeared at first not to think quite so ill of them as she did, she related many things she had seen and heard, which had escaped my attention, but which convinced me that she was in the right. i thanked her for her obliging advice, and promised to follow it. when we arrived at new york, they informed me where they lodged, and invited me to come and see them. i did not however go, and it was well i did not; for the next day, the captain missing a silver spoon and some other things which had been taken from the cabin, and knowing these women to be prostitutes, procured a search-warrant, found the stolen goods upon them, and had them punished. and thus, after having been saved from one rock concealed under water, upon which the vessel struck during our passage, i escaped another of a still more dangerous nature. at new york i found my friend collins, who had arrived some time before. we had been intimate from our infancy, and had read the same books together; but he had the advantage of being able to devote more time to reading and study, and an astonishing disposition for mathematics, in which he left me far behind him. when at boston, i had been accustomed to pass with him almost all my leisure hours. he was then a sober and industrious lad; his knowledge had gained him a very general esteem, and he seemed to promise to make an advantageous figure in society. but, during my absence, he had unfortunately addicted himself to brandy, and i learned, as well from himself as from the report of others, that every day since his arrival at new york he had been intoxicated, and had acted in a very extravagant manner. he had also played, and lost all his money; so that i was obliged to pay his expences at the inn, and to maintain him during the rest of his journey; a burthen that was very inconvenient to me. the governor of new york, whose name was burnet, hearing the captain say, that a young man who was a passenger in his ship had a great number of books, begged him to bring me to his house. i accordingly went, and should have taken collins with me, had he been sober. the governor treated me with great civility, shewed me his library, which was a very considerable one, and we talked for some time upon books and authors. this was the second governor who had honoured me with his attention, and to a poor boy, as i was then, these little adventures did not fail to be pleasing. we arrived at philadelphia. on the way i received vernon's money, without which we should have been unable to have finished our journey. collins wished to get employment as a merchant's clerk, but either his breath or his countenance betrayed his bad habit; for, though he had recommendations he met with no success, and continued to lodge and eat with me, and at my expence. knowing that i had vernon's money, he was continually asking me to lend him some of it, promising to repay me as soon as he should get employment. at last he had drawn so much of this money, that i was extremely alarmed at what might become of me, should he fail to make good the deficiency. his habit of drinking did not at all diminish, and was a frequent source of discord between us; for when he had drank a little too much, he was very head-strong. being one day in a boat together on the delaware, with some other young persons, he refused to take his turn in rowing. you shall row for me, said he, till we get home.--no, i replied, we will not row for you.--you shall, said he, or remain upon the water all night. as you please.--let us row, said the rest of the company; what signifies whether he assists or not. but, already angry with him for his conduct in other respects, i persisted in my refusal. he then swore that he would make me row, or would throw me out of the boat; and he made up to me. as soon as he was within my reach, i took him by the collar, gave him a violent thrust, and threw him head foremost into the river. i knew that he was a good swimmer, and was therefore under no apprehensions for his life. before he could turn himself, we were able, by a few strokes of our oars, to place ourselves out of his reach; and whenever he touched the boat, we asked him if he would row striking his hands at the same time with the oars, to make him let go his hold. he was nearly suffocated with rage, but obstinately refused making any promise to row. perceiving, at length, that his strength began to be exhausted, we took him into the boat, and conveyed him home in the evening completely drenched. the utmost coldness subsisted between us after this adventure. at last the captain of a west-india ship, who was commissioned to procure a tutor for the children of a gentleman at barbadoes, meeting with collins, offered him the place. he accepted it, and took his leave of me, promising to discharge the debt he owed me with the first money he should receive; but i have heard nothing of him since. the violation of the trust reposed in me by vernon, was one of the first great errors of my life; and it proves that my father was not mistaken when he supposed me too young to be intrusted with the management of important affairs. but sir william, upon reading his letter, thought him too prudent. there was a difference, he said, between individuals: years of maturity were not always accompanied with discretion, neither was youth in every instance devoid of it. since your father, added he, will not set you up in business, i will do it myself. make out a list of what will be wanted from england, and i will send for the articles. you shall repay me when you can. i am determined to have a good printer here, and i am sure you will succeed. this was said with so much seeming cordiality, that i suspected not for an instant the sincerity of the offer. i had hitherto kept the project, with which sir william had inspired me, of settling in business, a secret at philadelphia, and i still continued to do so. had my reliance on the governor been known, some friend better acquainted with his character than myself, would doubtless have advised me not to trust him; for i afterwards learned he was universally known to be liberal of promises, which he had no intention to perform. but having never solicited him, how could i suppose his offers to be deceitful?--on the contrary, i believed him to be the best man in the world. i gave him an inventory of a small printing-office, the expence of which i had calculated at about a hundred pounds sterling. he expressed his approbation; but asked, if my presence in england, that i might choose the characters myself, and see that every article was good in its kind, would not be an advantage? you will also be able, said he, to form some acquaintance there, and establish a correspondence with stationers and booksellers. this i acknowledged was desirable. that being the case, added he, hold yourself in readiness to go with the annis. this was the annual vessel, and the only one, at that time, which made regular voyages between the ports of london and philadelphia. but the annis was not to sail for some months. i therefore continued to work with keimer, unhappy respecting the sum which collins had drawn from me, and almost in continual agony at the thoughts of vernon, who fortunately made no demand of his money till several years after. in the account of my first voyage from boston to philadelphia, i omitted, i believe, a trifling circumstance, which will not, perhaps, be out of place here. during a calm which stopped us above block island, the crew employed themselves in fishing for cod, of which they caught a great number. i had hitherto adhered to my resolution of not eating any thing that had possessed life; and i considered on this occasion, agreeably to the maxims of my master tryon, the capture of every fish as a sort of murder, committed without provocation, since these animals had neither done, nor were capable of doing the smallest injury to any one that should justify the measure. this mode of reasoning i conceived to be unanswerable. meanwhile, i had formerly been extremely fond of fish; and when one of these cod was taken out of the frying-pan, i thought its flavour delicious. i hesitated some time between principle and inclination, till at last recollecting, that when the cod had been opened, some small fish were found in its belly, i said to myself, if you eat one another, i see no reason why we may not eat you. i accordingly dined on the cod with no small degree of pleasure, and have since continued to eat like the rest of mankind, returning only occasionally to my vegetable plan. how convenient does it prove to be a _rational animal_, that knows how to find or invent a plausible pretext for whatever it has an inclination to do! i continued to live upon good terms with keimer, who had not the smallest suspicion of my projected establishment. he still retained a portion of his former enthusiasm; and, being fond of argument, we frequently disputed together. i was so much in the habit of using my socratic method, and had so frequently puzzled him by my questions, which appeared at first very distant from the point in debate, yet nevertheless led to it by degrees, involving him in difficulties and contradictions from which he was unable to extricate himself, that he became at last ridiculously cautious, and would scarcely answer the most plain and familiar question without previously asking me--what would you infer from that? hence he formed so high an opinion of my talents for refutation, that he seriously proposed to me to become his colleague in the establishment of a new religious sect. he was to propagate the doctrine by preaching, and i to refute every opponent. when he explained to me his tenets, i found many absurdities which i refused to admit, unless he would agree in turn to adopt some of my opinions. keimer wore his beard long, because moses had somewhere said, "thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." he likewise observed the sabbath; and these were with him two very essential points. i disliked them both: but i consented to adopt them, provided he would agree to abstain from animal food. i doubt, said he, whether my constitution will be able to support it. i assured him on the contrary he would find himself the better for it. he was naturally a glutton, and i wished to amuse myself by starving him. he consented to make trial of this regimen, if i would bear him company; and in reality we continued it for three months. a woman in the neighbourhood prepared and brought us our victuals, to whom i gave a list of forty dishes; in the composition of which there were entered neither flesh nor fish. this fancy was the more agreeable to me as it turned to good account; for the whole expence of our living did not exceed for each eighteen pence a week. i have since that period observed several lents with the greatest strictness, and have suddenly returned again to my ordinary diet, without experiencing the smallest inconvenience; which has led me to regard as of no importance the advice commonly given, of introducing gradually such alterations of regimen. i continued it cheerfully, but poor keimer suffered terribly. tired of the project, he sighed for the fleshpots of egypt. at length he ordered a roast pig, and invited me and two of our female acquaintance to dine with him; but the pig being ready a little too soon, he could not resist the temptation, and eat it all up before we arrived. during the circumstances i have related, i had paid some attentions to miss read. i entertained for her the utmost esteem and affection; and i had reason to believe that these sentiments were mutual. but we were both young, scarcely more than eighteen years of age; and as i was on the point of undertaking a long voyage, her mother thought it prudent to prevent matters being carried top far for the present, judging that, if marriage was our object, there would be more propriety in it after my return, when, as at least i expected, i should be established in my business. perhaps, also, she thought my expectations were not so well founded as i imagined. my most intimate acquaintance at this time were charles osborne, joseph watson, and james ralph: young men who were all fond of reading. the two first were clerks to mr. charles brockdon, one of the principal attornies in the town, and the other clerk to a merchant. watson was an upright, pious, and sensible young man: the others were somewhat more loose in their principles of religion, particularly ralph, whose faith, as well as that of collins, i had contributed to shake; each of whom made me suffer a very adequate punishment. osborne was sensible, and sincere and affectionate in his friendships, but too much inclined to the critic in matters of literature. ralph was ingenious and shrewd, genteel in his address, and extremely eloquent. i do not remember to have met with a more agreeable speaker. they were both enamoured of the muses, and had already evinced their passion by some small poetical productions. it was a custom with us to take a charming walk on sundays, in the woods that border the skuylkil. here we read together, and afterwards conversed on what we read. ralph was disposed to give himself up entirely to poetry. he flattered himself that he should arrive at great eminence in the art, and even acquire a fortune. the sublimest poets, he pretended, when they first began to write, committed as many faults as himself. osborne endeavoured to dissuade him, by assuring him that he had no genius for poetry, and advised him to stick to the trade in which he had been brought up. in the road of commerce, said he, you will be sure, by diligence and assiduity, though you have no capital, of so far succeeding as to be employed as a factor; and may thus, in time, acquire the means of setting up for yourself. i concurred in these sentiments, but at the same time expressed my approbation of amusing ourselves sometimes with poetry, with a view to improve our style. in consequence of this it was proposed, that, at our next meeting, each of us should bring a copy of verses of his own composition. our object in this competition was to benefit each other by our mutual remarks, criticisms, and corrections; and as style and expression were all we had in view, we excluded every idea of invention, by agreeing that our task should be a version of the eighteenth psalm, in which is described the descent of the deity. the time of our meeting drew near, when ralph called upon me, and told me that his performance was ready. i informed him that i had been idle, and, not much liking the task, had done nothing. he shewed me his piece, and asked me what i thought of it. i expressed myself in terms of warm approbation; because it really appeared to have considerable merit. he then said, osborne will never acknowledge the smallest degree of excellence in any production of mine. envy alone dictates to him a thousand animadversions. of you he is not so jealous: i wish, therefore, you would take the verses, and produce them as your own. i will pretend not to have had leisure to write any thing. we shall then see in what manner he will speak of them. i agreed to this little artifice, and immediately transcribed the verses to prevent all suspicion. we met. watson's performance was the first that was read; it had some beauties, but many faults. we next read osborne's, which was much better. ralph did it justice, remarking a few imperfections, and applauding such parts as were excellent. he had himself nothing to show. it was now my turn. i made some difficulty; seemed as if i wished to be excused; pretended that i had had no time to make corrections, &c. no excuse, however, was admissible, and, the piece must be produced. it was read, and re-read. watson and osborne immediately resigned the palm, and united in applauding it. ralph alone made a few remarks, and proposed some alterations; but i defended my text. osborne agreed with me, and told ralph that he was no more able to criticise than he was able to write. when osborne was alone with me, he expressed himself still more strongly in favour of what he considered as my performance. he pretended that he had put some restraint upon himself before, apprehensive of my construing his commendation into flattery. but who would have supposed, said he, franklin to be capable of such a composition? what painting--what energy--what fire! he has surpassed the original. in his common conversation he appears not to have a choice of words; he hesitates, and is at a loss--and yet, good god, how he writes! at our next meeting ralph discovered the trick we had played osborne, who was rallied without mercy. by this adventure ralph was fixed in his determination of becoming a poet. i left nothing unattempted to divert him from his purpose; but he persevered, till at last the reading of pope[ ] effected his cure: he became, however, a very tolerable prose-writer. i shall speak more of him hereafter; but as i shall probably have no farther occasion to mention the other two, i ought to observe here that watson died a few years after in my arms. he was greatly regretted, for he was the best of our society. osborne went to the islands, where he gained considerable reputation as a barrister, and was getting money; but he died young. we had seriously engaged, that whoever died first should return (if possible) and pay a friendly visit to the survivor, to give him an account of the other world--but he has never fulfilled his engagement. the governor appeared to be fond of my company, and frequently invited me to his house. he always spoke of his intention of settling me in business, as a point that was decided. i was to take with me letters of recommendation to a number of his friends, and particularly a letter of credit, in order to obtain the necessary sum for the purchase of my press, types, and paper. he appointed various times for me to come for these letters, which would certainly be ready, and when i came, always put me off to another day. these successive delays continued till the vessel, whose departure had been several times deferred, was on the point of setting sail; when i again went to sir william's house, to receive my letters and take leave of him. i saw his secretary, dr. bard, who told me that the governor was extremely busy writing, but that he would be down at newcastle before the vessel, and that the letters would be delivered to me there. ralph, though he was married and had a child, determined to accompany me in this voyage. his object was supposed to be the establishing a correspondence with some mercantile houses, in order to sell goods by commission; but i afterwards learned that, having reason to be dissatisfied with the parents of his wife, he proposed to himself to leave her on their hands, and never return to america again. having taken leave of my friends, and interchanged promises of fidelity with miss read, i quitted philadelphia. at newcastle the vessel came to anchor. the governor was arrived, and i went to his lodgings. his secretary received me with great civility, told me on the part of the governor that he could not see me then, as he was engaged in affairs of the utmost importance, but that he would send the letters on board, and that he wished me, with all his heart, a good voyage, and speedy return. i returned, somewhat astonished, to the ship, but still without entertaining the slightest suspicion. mr. hamilton, a celebrated barrister of philadelphia, had taken a passage to england for himself and his son, and, in conjunction with mr. denham, a quaker, and messrs. oniam and russel, proprietors of a forge in maryland, had agreed for the whole cabin, so that ralph and i were obliged to take up our lodging with the crew. being unknown to every body in the ship, we were looked upon as of the common order of people: but mr. hamilton and his son, (it was james, who was afterwards governor,) left us at newcastle, and returned to philadelphia, where he was recalled at a very great expence, to plead the cause of a vessel that had been seized; and just as we were about to sail, colonel french came on board, and shewed me many civilities. the passengers upon this paid me more attention, and i was invited, together with my friend ralph, to occupy the place in the cabin which the return of the mr. hamiltons had made vacant; an offer which we very readily accepted. having learned that the dispatches of the governor had been brought on board by colonel french, i asked the captain for the letters that were to be entrusted to my care. he told me that they were all put together in the bag, which he could not open at present; but before we reached england, he would give me an opportunity of taking them out. i was satisfied with this answer, and we pursued our voyage. the company in the cabin were all very sociable, and we were perfectly well off as to provisions, as we had the advantage of the whole of mr. hamilton's, who had laid in a very plentiful stock. during the passage, mr. denham contracted a friendship for me, which ended only with his life: in other respects the voyage was by no means an agreeable one, as we had much bad weather. when we arrived in the river, the captain was as good as his word, and allowed me to search in the bag for the governor's letters. i could not find a single one with my name written on it, as committed to my care; but i selected six or seven, which i judged from the direction to be those that were intended for me; particularly one to mr. basket the king's printer, and another to a stationer, who was the first person i called upon. i delivered him the letter as coming from governor keith. "i have no acquaintance (said he) with any such person;" and opening the letter, "oh, it is from riddlesden!" he exclaimed. "i have lately discovered him to be a very arrant knave, and wish to have nothing to do either with him or his letters." he instantly put the letter into my hand, turned upon his heel, and left me, to serve some customers. i was astonished at finding these letters were not from the governor. reflecting, and putting circumstances together, i then began to doubt his sincerity. i rejoined my friend denham, and related the whole affair to him. he let me at once into keith's character, told me there was not the least probability of his having written a single letter; that no one who knew him ever placed any reliance on him, and laughed at my credulity in supposing that the governor would give me a letter of credit, when he had no credit for himself. as i showed some uneasiness respecting what step i should take, he advised me to try to get employment in the house of some printer. you may there, said he, improve yourself in business, and you will be able to settle yourself the more advantageously when you return to america. we knew already as well as the stationer, attorney riddlesden to be a knave. he had nearly ruined the father of miss read, by drawing him in to be his security. we learned from his letter, that he was secretly carrying on an intrigue, in concert with the governor, to the prejudice of mr. hamilton, who it was supposed would by this time be in europe. denham, who was hamilton's friend, was of opinion that he ought to be made acquainted with it; and in reality, the instant he arrived in england, which was very soon after, i waited on him, and, as much from good-will to him, as from resentment against the governor, put the letter into his hands. he thanked me very sincerely, the information it contained being of consequence to him; and from that moment bestowed on me his friendship, which afterwards proved on many occasions serviceable to me. but what are we to think of a governor who could play so scurvy a trick, and thus grossly deceive a poor young lad, wholly destitute of experience? it was a practice with him. wishing to please every body, and having little to bestow, he was lavish of promises. he was in other respects sensible and judicious, a very tolerable writer, and a good governor for the people; though not so for the proprietaries, whose instructions he frequently disregarded. many of our best laws were his work, and established during his administration. ralph and i were inseparable companions. we took a lodging together at three and sixpence a-week, which was as much as we could afford. he met with some relations in london, but they were poor, and not able to assist him. he now, for the first time, informed me of his intention to remain in england, and that he had no thoughts of ever returning to philadelphia. he was totally without money; the little he had been able to raise having barely sufficed for his passage. i had still fifteen pistoles remaining; and to me he had from time to time recourse, while he tried to get employment. at first, believing himself possessed of talents for the stage, he thought of turning actor; but wilkes, to whom he applied, frankly advised him to renounce the idea, as it was impossible he should succeed. he next proposed to roberts, a bookseller in paternoster-row, to write a weekly paper in the manner of the spectator, upon terms to which roberts would not listen. lastly, he endeavoured to procure employment as a copyist, and applied to the lawyers and stationers about the temple; but he could find no vacancy. as to myself, i immediately got engaged at palmer's, at that time a noted printer in bartholomew-close, with whom i continued nearly a year. i applied very assiduously to my work; but i expended with ralph almost all that i earned. plays, and other places of amusement which we frequented together, having exhausted my pistoles, we lived after this from hand to mouth. he appeared to have entirely forgotten his wife and child, as i also, by degrees, forgot my engagements with miss read, to whom i never wrote more than one letter, and that merely to inform her that i was not likely to return soon. this was another grand error of my life, which i should be desirous of correcting were i to begin my career again. i was employed at palmer's on the second edition of woolaston's religion of nature. some of his arguments appearing to me not to be well-founded, i wrote a small metaphysical treatise, in which i animadverted on those passages. it was entitled a "dissertation on liberty and necessity, pleasure and pain." i dedicated it to my friend ralph, and printed a small number of copies. palmer upon this treated me with more consideration, and regarded me as a young man of talents; though he seriously took me to task for the principles of my pamphlet, which he looked upon as abominable. the printing of this work was another error of my life. while i lodged in little britain i formed acquaintance with a bookseller of the name of wilcox, whose shop was next door to me. circulating libraries were not then in use. he had an immense collection of books of all sorts. we agreed that, for a reasonable retribution, of which i have now forgotten the price, i should have free access to his library, and take what books i pleased, which i was to return when i had read them. i considered this agreement as a very great advantage; and i derived from it as much benefit as was in my power. my pamphlet falling into the hands of a surgeon, of the name of lyons, author of a book entitled, "infallibility of human judgment," was the occasion of a considerable intimacy between us. he expressed great esteem for me, came frequently to see me, in order to converse upon metaphysical subjects, and introduced me to dr. mandeville, author of the fable of the bees, who had instituted a club at a tavern in cheapside, of which he was the soul: he was a facetious and very amusing character. he also introduced me, at batson's coffee-house, to dr. pemberton, who promised to give me an opportunity of seeing sir isaac newton, which i very ardently desired; but he never kept his word. i had brought some curiosities with me from america; the principal of which was a purse made of the asbestos, which fire only purifies. sir hans sloane hearing of it, called upon me, and invited me to his house in bloomsbury-square, where, after showing me every thing that was curious, he prevailed on me to add this piece to his collection; for which he paid me very handsomely. there lodged in the same house with us a young woman, a milliner, who had a shop by the side of the exchange. lively and sensible, and having received an education somewhat above her rank, her conversation was very agreeable. ralph read plays to her every evening. they became intimate. she took another lodging, and he followed her. they lived for some time together; but ralph being without employment, she having a child, and the profits of her business not sufficing for the maintenance of three, he resolved to quit london, and try a country school. this was a plan in which he thought himself likely to succeed; as he wrote a fine hand, and was versed in arithmetic and accounts. but considering the office as beneath him, and expecting some day to make a better figure in the world, when he should be ashamed of its being known that he had exercised a profession so little honourable, he changed his name, and did me the honour to assume mine. he wrote to me soon after his departure, informing me that he was settled at a small village in berkshire. in his letter he recommended mrs. t***, the milliner, to my care, and requested an answer, directed to mr. franklin, school-master, at n***. he continued to write to me frequently, sending me large fragments of an epic poem he was composing, and which he begged of me to criticise and correct. i did so, but not without endeavouring to prevail on him to renounce this pursuit. young had just published one of his satires. i copied and sent him a great part of it; in which the author demonstrates the folly of cultivating the muses, from the hope, by their instrumentality, of rising in the world. it was all to no purpose; paper after paper of his poem continued to arrive every post. meanwhile mrs. t*** having lost, on his account, both her friends and her business, was frequently in distress. in this dilemma she had recourse to me; and to extricate her from difficulties, i lent her all the money i could spare. i felt a little too much fondness for her. having at that time no ties of religion, and taking advantage of her necessitous situation, i attempted liberties, (another error of my life,) which she repelled with becoming indignation. she informed ralph of my conduct; and the affair occasioned a breach between us. when he returned to london, he gave me to understand that he considered all the obligations he owed me as annihilated by this proceeding; whence i concluded that i was never to expect the payment of what money i had lent him, or advanced on his account. i was the less afflicted at this, as he was wholly unable to pay me; and as, by losing his friendship, i was relieved at the same time from a very heavy burden. i now began to think of laying by some money. the printing-house of watts, near lincoln's-inn-fields, being a still more considerable one than that in which i worked, it was probable i might find it more advantageous to be employed there. i offered myself, and was accepted; and in this house i continued during the remainder of my stay in london. on my entrance i worked at first as a pressman, conceiving that i had need of bodily exercise, to which i had been accustomed in america, where the printers work alternately as compositors and at the press. i drank nothing but water. the other workmen, to the number of about fifty, were great drinkers of beer. i carried occasionally a large form of letters in each hand, up and down stairs, while the rest employed both hands to carry one. they were surprised to see, by this and many other examples, that the _american aquatic_, as they used to call me, was stronger than those who drank porter. the beer-boy had sufficient employment during the whole day in serving that house alone. my fellow pressman drank every day a pint of beer before breakfast, a pint with bread and cheese for breakfast, one between breakfast and dinner, one at dinner, one again about six o'clock in the afternoon, and another after he had finished his day's work. this custom appeared to me abominable; but he had need, he said, of all this beer, in order to acquire strength to work. i endeavoured to convince him that the bodily strength furnished by the beer, could only be in proportion to the solid part of the barley dissolved in the water of which the beer was composed; that there was a larger portion of flour in a penny loaf, and that consequently if he ate this loaf, and drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more strength from it than from a pint of beer. this reasoning, however, did not prevent him from drinking his accustomed quantity of beer, and paying every saturday night a score of four or five shillings a-week for this cursed beverage; an expence from which i was wholly exempt. thus do these poor devils continue all their lives in a state of voluntary wretchedness and poverty. at the end of a few weeks, watts having occasion for me above stairs as a compositor, i quitted the press. the compositors demanded of me garnish money a-fresh. this i considered as an imposition, having already paid below. the master was of the same opinion, and desired me not to comply. i thus remained two or three weeks out of the fraternity. i was consequently looked upon as excommunicated; and whenever i was absent, no little trick that malice could suggest was left unpractised upon me. i found my letters mixed, my pages transposed, my matter broken, &c. &c. all which was attributed to the spirit that haunted the chapel,[ ] and tormented those who were not regularly admitted. i was at last obliged to submit to pay, notwithstanding the protection of the master; convinced of the folly of not keeping up a good understanding with those among whom we are destined to live. after this i lived in the utmost harmony with my fellow-labourers, and soon acquired considerable influence among them. i proposed some alterations in the laws of the chapel, which i carried without opposition. my example prevailed with several of them to renounce their abominable practice of bread and cheese with beer; and they procured, like me, from a neighbouring house, a good basin of warm gruel, in which was a small slice of butter, with toasted bread and nutmeg. this was a much better breakfast, which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, three halfpence, and at the same time preserved the head clearer. those who continued to gorge themselves with beer, often lost their credit with the publican, from neglecting to pay their score. they had then recourse to me, to become security for them; _their light_, as they used to call it, _being out_. i attended at the pay-table every saturday evening, to take up the little sum which i had made myself answerable for; and which sometimes amounted to nearly thirty shillings a-week. this circumstance, added to my reputation of being a tolerable good _gabber_, or, in other words, skilful in the art of burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. i had besides recommended myself to the esteem of my master by my assiduous application to business, never observing saint monday. my extraordinary quickness in composing always procured me such work as was most urgent, and which is commonly best paid; and thus my time passed away in a very pleasant manner. my lodging in little britain being too far from the printing-house, i took another in duke-street, opposite the roman catholic chapel. it was at the back of an italian warehouse. the house was kept by a widow, who had a daughter, a servant, and a shop-boy; but the latter slept out of the house. after sending to the people with whom i lodged in little britain, to enquire into my character, she agreed to take me in at the same price, three and sixpence a-week; contenting herself, she said, with so little, because of the security she should derive, as they were all women, from having a man lodger in the house. she was a woman rather advanced in life, the daughter of a clergyman. she had been educated a protestant; but her husband, whose memory she highly revered, had converted her to the catholic religion. she had lived in habits of intimacy with persons of distinction; of whom she knew various anecdotes as far back as the time of charles ii. being subject to fits of the gout, which often confined her to her room, she was sometimes disposed to see company. hers was so amusing to me, that i was glad to pass the evening with her as often as she desired it. our supper consisted only of half an anchovy a piece, upon a slice of bread and butter, with half a pint of ale between us. but the entertainment was in her conversation. the early hours i kept, and the little trouble i occasioned in the family, made her loth to part with me; and when i mentioned another lodging i had found, nearer the printing-house, at two shillings a week, which fell in with my plan of saving, she persuaded me to give it up, making herself an abatement of two shillings: and thus i continued to lodge with her, during the remainder of my abode in london, at eighteen pence a week. in a garret of the house there lived, in the most retired manner, a lady seventy years of age, of whom i received the following account from my landlady. she was a roman catholic. in her early years she had been sent to the continent, and entered a convent with the design of becoming a nun; but the climate not agreeing with her constitution, she was obliged to return to england, where, as there were no monasteries, she made a vow to lead a monastic life, in as rigid a manner as circumstances would permit. she accordingly disposed of all her property to be applied to charitable uses, reserving to herself only twelve pounds a year; and of this small pittance she gave a part to the poor, living on water gruel, and never making use of fire but to boil it. she had lived in this garret a great many years, without paying rent to the successive catholic inhabitants that had kept the house; who indeed considered her abode with them as a blessing. a priest came every day to confess her. i have asked her, said my landlady, how, living as she did, she could find so much employment for a confessor? to which she answered, that it was impossible to avoid vain thoughts. i was once permitted to visit her. she was cheerful and polite, and her conversation agreeable. her apartment was neat; but the whole furniture consisted of a mattress, a table, on which were a crucifix and a book, a chair, which she gave me to sit on, and over the mantle-piece a picture of st. veronica displaying her handkerchief, on which was seen the miraculous impression of the face of christ, which she explained to me with great gravity. her countenance was pale, but she had never experienced sickness; and i may adduce her as another proof how little is sufficient to maintain life and health. at the printing house i contracted an intimacy with a sensible young man of the name of wygate, who, as his parents were in good circumstances, had received a better education than is common among printers. he was a tolerable latin scholar, spoke french fluently, and was fond of reading. i taught him, as well as a friend of his, to swim, by taking them twice only into the river; after which they stood in need of no farther assistance. we one day made a party to go by water to chelsea, in order to see the college, and don soltero's curiosities. on our return, at the request of the company, whose curiosity wygate had excited, i undressed myself, and leaped into the river. i swam from near chelsea the whole way to blackfriars, exhibiting, during my course, a variety of feats of activity and address, both upon the surface of the water, as well as under it. this sight occasioned much astonishment and pleasure to those to whom it was new. in my youth i took great delight in this exercise. i knew, and could execute, all the evolutions and positions of thevenot; and i added to them some of my own invention, in which i endeavoured to unite gracefulness and utility. i took a pleasure in displaying them all on this occasion, and was highly flattered with the admiration they excited. wygate, besides his being desirous of perfecting himself in this art, was the more attached to me from there being, in other respects, a conformity in our tastes and studies. he at length proposed to me to make the tour of europe with him, maintaining ourselves at the same time by working at our profession. i was on the point of consenting, when i mentioned it to my friend mr. denham, with whom i was glad to pass an hour whenever i had leisure. he dissuaded me from the project, and advised me to think of returning to philadelphia, which he was about to do himself. i must relate in this place a trait of this worthy man's character. he had formerly been in business at bristol, but failing, he compounded with his creditors, and departed for america, where, by assiduous application as a merchant, he acquired in a few years a very considerable fortune. returning to england in the same vessel with myself, as i have related above, he invited all his old creditors to a feast. when assembled, he thanked them for the readiness with which they had received his small composition; and, while they expected nothing more than a simple entertainment, each found under his plate, when it came to be removed, a draft upon a banker for the residue of his debt, with interest. he told me that it was his intention to carry back with him to philadelphia a great quantity of goods, in order to open a store; and he offered to take me with him in the capacity of clerk, to keep his books, in which he would instruct me, copy letters, and superintend the store. he added, that as soon as i had acquired a knowledge of mercantile transactions, he would improve my situation, by sending me with a cargo of corn and flour to the american islands, and by procuring me other lucrative commissions; so that, with good management and economy, i might in time begin business with advantage for myself. i relished these proposals. london began to tire me; the agreeable hours i had passed at philadelphia presented themselves to my mind, and i wished to see them revive. i consequently engaged myself to mr. denham, at a salary of fifty pounds a year. this was, indeed less than i earned as a compositor, but then i had a much fairer prospect. i took leave therefore, as i believed for ever, of printing, and gave myself up entirely to my new occupation, spending all my time either in going from house to house with mr. denham to purchase goods, or in packing them up, or in expediting the workmen, &c. &c. when every thing, however, was on board, i had at last a few days leisure. during this interval, i was one day sent for by a gentleman, whom i knew only by name. it was sir william wyndham. i went to his house. he had by some means heard of my performances between chelsea and blackfriars, and that i had taught the art of swimming to wygate and another young man in the course of a few hours. his two sons were on the point of setting out on their travels; he was desirous that they should previously learn to swim, and offered me a very liberal reward if i would undertake to instruct them. they were not yet arrived in town, and the stay i should make was uncertain; i could not therefore accept his proposal. i was led, however, to suppose from this incident, that if i had wished to remain in london, and open a swimming school, i should perhaps have gained a great deal of money. this idea struck me so forcibly that, had the offer been made sooner, i should have dismissed the thought of returning as yet to america. some years after, you and i had a more important business to settle with one of the sons of sir william wyndham, then lord egremont. but let us not anticipate events. i thus passed about eighteen months in london, working almost without intermission at my trade, avoiding all expence on my own account, except going now and then to the play, and purchasing a few books. but my friend ralph kept me poor. he owed me about twenty-seven pounds, which was so much money lost; and when considered as taken from my little savings, was a very great sum. i had, notwithstanding this, a regard for him, as he possessed many amiable qualities. but though i had done nothing for myself in point of fortune, i had increased my stock of knowledge, either by the many excellent books i had read, or the conversation of learned and literary persons with whom i was acquainted. we sailed from gravesend the d of july, . for the incidents of my voyage i refer you to my journal, where you will find all its circumstances minutely related. we landed at philadelphia on the th of the following october. keith had been deprived of his office of governor, and was succeeded by major gordon. i met him walking in the streets as a private individual. he appeared a little ashamed at seeing me, but passed on without saying any thing. i should have been equally ashamed myself at meeting miss read, had not her family, justly despairing of my return after reading my letter, advised her to give me up, and marry a potter, of the name of rogers; to which she consented: but he never made her happy, and she soon separated from him, refusing to cohabit with him, or even bear his name, on account of a report which prevailed, of his having another wife. his skill in his profession had seduced miss read's parents; but he was as bad a subject as he was excellent as a workman. he involved himself in debt, and fled, in the year or , to the west indies, where he died. during my absence keimer had taken a more considerable house, in which he kept a shop, that was well supplied with paper, and various other articles. he had procured some new types, and a number of workmen; among whom, however, there was not one who was good for any thing; and he appeared not to want business. mr. denham took a warehouse in water-street, where we exhibited our commodities. i applied myself closely, studied accounts, and became in a short time very expert in trade. we lodged and ate together. he was sincerely attached to me, and acted towards me as if he had been my father. on my side, i respected and loved him. my situation was happy; but it was a happiness of no long duration. early in february, , when i entered into my twenty-second year, we were both taken ill. i was attacked with a pleurisy, which had nearly carried me off; i suffered terribly, and considered it as all over with me. i felt indeed a sort of disappointment when i found myself likely to recover, and regretted that i had still to experience, sooner or later, the same disagreeable scene again. i have forgotten what was mr. denham's disorder; but it was a tedious one, and he at last sunk under it. he left me a small legacy in his will, as a testimony of his friendship; and i was once more abandoned to myself in the wide world, the warehouse being confided to the care of testamentary executor, who dismissed me. my brother-in-law, holmes, who happened to be at philadelphia, advised me to return to my former profession; and keimer offered me a very considerable salary if i would undertake the management of his printing-office, that he might devote himself entirely to the superintendence of his shop. his wife and relations in london had given me a bad character of him; and i was loth, for the present, to have any concern with him. i endeavoured to get employment as a clerk to a merchant; but not readily finding a situation, i was induced to accept keimer's proposal. the following were the persons i found in his printing-house: hugh meredith, a pennsylvanian, about thirty-five years of age. he had been brought up to husbandry, was honest, sensible, had some experience, and was fond of reading; but too much addicted to drinking. stephen potts, a young rustic, just broke from school, and of rustic education, with endowments rather above the common order, and a competent portion of understanding and gaiety; but a little idle. keimer had engaged these two at very low wages, which he had promised to raise every three months a shilling a week, provided their improvement in the typographic art should merit it. this future increase of wages was the bait he had made use of to ensnare them. meredith was to work at the press, and potts to bind books, which he had engaged to teach them, though he understood neither himself. john savage, an irishman, who had been brought up to no trade, and whose service, for a period of four years, keimer had purchased of the captain of a ship. he was also to be a pressman. george webb, an oxford scholar, whose time he had in like manner bought for four years, intending him for a compositor. i shall speak more of him presently. lastly, david harry, a country lad, who was apprenticed to him. i soon perceived that keimer's intention, in engaging me at a price so much above what he was accustomed to give, was, that i might form all these raw journeymen and apprentices, who scarcely cost him any thing, and who, being indentured, would, as soon as they should be sufficiently instructed, enable him to do without me. i nevertheless adhered to my agreement. i put the office in order, which was in the utmost confusion, and brought his people by degrees, to pay attention to their work, and to execute it in a more masterly style. it was singular to see an oxford scholar in the condition of a purchased servant. he was not more than eighteen years of age, and the following are the particulars he gave me of himself. born at gloucester, he had been educated at a grammar-school, and had distinguished himself among the scholars by his superior style of acting, when they represented dramatic performances. he was a member of a literary club in the town; and some pieces of his composition, in prose as well as in verse, had been inserted in the gloucester papers. from hence he was sent to oxford, where he remained about a year: but he was not contented, and wished above all things to see london, and become an actor. at length, having received fifteen guineas to pay his quarter's board, he decamped with the money, from oxford, hid his gown in a hedge, and travelled to london. there, having no friend to direct him, he fell into bad company, soon squandered his fifteen guineas, could find no way of being introduced to the actors, became contemptible, pawned his cloaths, and was in want of bread. as he was walking along the streets, almost famished with hunger, and not knowing what to do, a recruiting-bill was put into his hand, which offered an immediate treat and bounty-money to whoever was disposed to serve in america. he instantly repaired to the house of rendezvous, inlisted himself, was put on board a ship and conveyed to america, without ever writing a line to inform his parents what was become of him. his mental vivacity, and good natural disposition, made him an excellent companion; but he was indolent, thoughtless, and to the last degree imprudent. john, the irishman, soon ran away. i began to live very agreeably with the rest. they respected me, and the more so as they found keimer incapable of instructing them, and as they learned something from me every day. we never worked on a saturday, it being keimer's sabbath, so that i had two days a week for reading. i increased my acquaintance with persons of information and knowledge in the town. keimer himself treated me with great civility, and apparent esteem; and i had nothing to give me uneasiness but my debt to vernon, which i was unable to pay, my savings as yet being very little. he had the goodness, however, not to ask me for the money. our press was frequently in want of the necessary quantity of letter, and there was no such trade as that of letter-founder in america. i had seen the practice of this art at the house of james, in london, but had at the time paid it very little attention; i however, contrived to fabricate a mould. i made use of such letters as we had for punches, founded new letters of lead in mattrices of clay, and thus supplied in a tolerable manner the wants that were most pressing. i also, upon occasion, engraved various ornaments, made ink, gave an eye to the shop--in short, i was in every respect the _factotum_. but useful as i made myself, i perceived that my services became every day of less importance, in proportion as the other men improved; and when keimer paid me my second quarter's wages, he gave me to understand they were too heavy, and that he thought i ought to make an abatement. he became by degrees less civil, and assumed more the tone of master. he frequently found fault, was difficult to please, and seemed always on the point of coming to an open quarrel with me. i continued, however, to bear it patiently, conceiving that his ill humour was partly occasioned by the derangement and embarrassment of his affairs. at last a slight incident broke our connection. hearing a noise in the neighbourhood, i put my head out at the window, to see what was the matter. keimer being in the street, observed me, and in a loud and angry tone bid me to mind my work; adding some reproachful words, which piqued me the more, as they were uttered in the street; and the neighbours, whom the same noise attracted to the windows, were witnesses of the manner in which i was treated. he immediately came up to the printing-room, where he continued to exclaim against me. the quarrel became warm on both sides, and he gave me notice to quit him at the expiration of three months, as had been agreed upon between us; regretting that he was obliged to give me so long a term. i told him that his regret was superfluous, as i was ready to quit him instantly; and i took my hat and came out of the house, begging meredith to take care of some things which i left, and bring them to my lodgings. meredith came to me in the evening. we talked for some time upon the quarrel that had taken place. he had conceived a great veneration for me, and was sorry i should quit the house, while he remained in it. he dissuaded me from returning to my native country, as i began to think of doing. he reminded me that keimer owed more than he possessed; that his creditors began to be alarmed; that he kept his shop in a wretched state, often selling things at prime cost for the sake of ready money, and continually giving credit without keeping any accounts; that of consequence he must very soon fail, which would occasion a vacancy from which i might derive advantage. i objected my want of money. upon which he informed me that his father had a very high opinion of me, and, from a conversation that had passed between them, he was sure he would advance whatever might be necessary to establish us, if i was willing to enter into partnership with him. "my time with keimer," added he, "will be at an end next spring. in the mean time we may send to london for our press and types. i know that i am no workman; but if you agree to the proposal, your skill in the business will be balanced by the capital i shall furnish, and we will share the profits equally." his proposal was reasonable, and i fell in with it. his father, who was then in town, approved of it. he knew that i had some ascendancy over his son, as i had been able to prevail on him to abstain for a long time from drinking brandy; and he hoped that, when more closely connected with him, i should cure him entirely of this unfortunate habit. i gave the father a list of what it would be necessary to import from london. he took it to a merchant, and the order was given. we agreed to keep the secret till the arrival of the materials, and i was in the mean time to procure work, if possible, in another printing-house; but there was no place vacant, and i remained idle. after some days, keimer having the expectation of being employed to print some new jersey money-bills, that would require types and engravings which i only could furnish, and fearful that bradford, by engaging me, might deprive him of this undertaking, sent me a very civil message, telling me that old friends ought not to be disunited on account of a few words, which were the effect only of a momentary passion, and inviting me to return to him. meredith persuaded me to comply with the invitation, particularly as it would afford him more opportunities of improving himself in the business, by means of my instructions. i did so; and we lived upon better terms than before our separation. he obtained the new jersey business; and, in order to execute it, i constructed a copper-plate printing-press! the first that had been seen in the country. i engraved various ornaments and vignettes for the bills; and we repaired to burlington together, where i executed the whole to the general satisfaction; and he received a sum of money for this work, which enabled him to keep his head above water for a considerable time longer. at burlington i formed an acquaintance with the principal personages of the province; many of whom were commissioned by the assembly to superintend the press, and to see that no more bills were printed than the law had prescribed. accordingly they were constantly with us, each in his turn; and he that came, commonly brought with him a friend or two to bear him company. my mind was more cultivated by reading than keimer's; and it was for this reason, probably, that they set more value on my conversation. they took me to their houses, introduced me to their friends, and treated me with the greatest civility; while keimer, though master, saw himself a little neglected. he was, in fact, a strange animal, ignorant of the common modes of life, apt to oppose with rudeness generally received opinions, an enthusiast in certain points of religion, disgustingly unclean in his person, and a little knavish withal. we remained there nearly three months, and at the expiration of this period i could include in the list of my friends, judge allen, samuel bustil, secretary of the province, isaac pearson, joseph cooper, several of the smiths, all members of the assembly, and isaac decon, inspector-general. the last was a shrewd and subtle old man. he told me, that, when a boy, his first employment had been that of carrying clay to the brick-makers; that he did not learn to write till he was somewhat advanced in life; and that he was afterwards employed as an underling to a surveyor, who taught him his trade, and that by industry he had at last acquired a competent fortune. "i foresee," said he one day to me, "that you will soon supplant this man," speaking of keimer, "and get a fortune in the business at philadelphia." he was wholly ignorant at the time, of my intention of establishing myself there, or any where else. these friends were very serviceable to me in the end, as was i also, upon occasion, to some of them; and they have continued ever since their esteem for me. before i relate the particulars of my entrance into business, it may be proper to inform you what was at that time the state of my mind as to moral principles, that you may see the degree of influence they had upon the subsequent events of my life. my parents had given me betimes religious impressions; and i received from my infancy a pious education in the principles of calvinism. but scarcely was i arrived at fifteen years of age, when, after having doubted in turn of different tenets, according as i found them combated in the different books that i read, i began to doubt of revelation itself. some volumes against deism fell into my hands. they were said to be the substance of sermons preached at boyle's lecture. it happened that they produced on me an effect precisely the reverse of what was intended by the writers; for the arguments of the deists, which were cited in order to be refuted, appeared to me much more forcible than the refutation itself. in a word, i soon became a perfect deist. my arguments perverted some other young persons, particularly collins and ralph. but in the sequel, when i recollected that they had both used me extremely ill, without the smallest remorse; when i considered the behaviour of keith, another free-thinker, and my own conduct towards vernon and miss read, which at times gave me great uneasiness, i was led to suspect that this doctrine, though it might be true, was not very useful. i began to entertain a less favourable opinion of my london pamphlet to which i had prefixed as a motto, the following lines of dryden: whatever is--is right; though 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 of which the object was to prove, from the attributes of god, his goodness, wisdom, and power, that there could be no such thing as evil in the world; that vice and virtue did not in reality exist, and were nothing more than vain distinctions. i no longer regarded it as so blameless a work as i had formerly imagined; and i suspected that some error must have imperceptibly glided into my argument, by which all the inferences i had drawn from it had been affected, as frequently happens in metaphysical reasonings. in a word, i was at last convinced that truth, probity, and sincerity in transactions between man and man, were of the utmost importance to the happiness of life; and i resolved from that moment, and wrote the resolution in my journal, to practise them as long as i lived. revelation, indeed, as such, had no influence on my mind; but i was of opinion that, though certain actions could not be bad merely because revelation had prohibited them, or good because it enjoined them, yet it was probable that those actions were prohibited because they were bad for us, or enjoined because advantageous in their nature, all things considered. this persuasion, divine providence, or some guardian angel, and perhaps a concurrence of favourable circumstances co-operating, preserved me from all immorality, or gross and _voluntary_, injustice, to which my want of religion was calculated to expose me, in the dangerous period of youth, and in the hazardous situations in which i sometimes found myself, among strangers, and at a distance from the eye and admonitions of my father. i may say _voluntary_, because the errors into which i had fallen, had been in a manner the forced result either of my own inexperience, or the dishonesty of others. thus, before i entered on my new career, i had imbibed solid principles, and a character of probity. i knew their value; and i made a solemn engagement with myself never to depart from them. i had not long returned from burlington before our printing materials arrived from london. i settled my accounts with keimer, and quitted him, with his own consent, before he had any knowledge of our plan. we found a house to let near the market. we took it; and to render the rent less burdensome, (it was then twenty-four pounds a year, but i have since known it let for seventy,) we admitted thomas godfrey, a glazier, with his family, who eased us of a considerable part of it; and with him we agreed to board. we had no sooner unpacked our letters, and put our press in order, than a person of my acquaintance, george house, brought us a countryman, whom he had met in the streets enquiring for a printer. our money was almost exhausted by the number of things we had been obliged to procure. the five shillings we received from this countryman, the first fruits of our earnings, coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any sum i have since gained; and the recollection of the gratitude i felt on this occasion to george house, has rendered me often more disposed, than perhaps i should otherwise have been, to encourage young beginners in trade. there are in every country morose beings, who are always prognosticating ruin. there was one of this stamp at philadelphia. he was a man of fortune, declining in years, had an air of wisdom, and a very grave manner of speaking. his name was samuel mickle. i knew him not; but he stopped one day at my door, and asked me if i was the young man who had lately opened a new printing-house. upon my answering in the affirmative, he said he was very sorry for me, as it was an expensive undertaking, and the money that had been laid out upon it would be lost, philadelphia being a place falling into decay; its inhabitants having all, or nearly all of them, been obliged to call together their creditors. that he knew, from undoubted fact, the circumstances which might lead us to suppose the contrary, such as new buildings, and the advanced price of rent, to be deceitful appearances, which, in reality, contributed to hasten the general ruin; and he gave me so long a detail of misfortunes, actually existing, or which were soon to take place, that he left me almost in a state of despair. had i known this man before i entered into trade, i should doubtless never have ventured. he continued, however, to live in this place of decay, and to declaim in the same style, refusing for many years to buy a house because all was going to wreck; and in the end i had the satisfaction to see him pay five times as much for one as it would have cost him had he purchased it when he first began his lamentations. i ought to have related, that, during the autumn of the preceding year, i had united the majority of well-informed persons of my acquaintance into a club, which we called by the name of the _junto_, and the object of which was to improve our understandings. we met every friday evening. the regulations i drew up, obliged every member to propose, in his turn, one or more questions upon some point of morality, politics, or philosophy, which were to be discussed by the society; and to read, once in three months, an essay of his own composition, on whatever subject he pleased. our debates were under the direction of a president, and were to be dictated only by a sincere desire of truth; the pleasure of disputing, and the vanity of triumph having no share in the business; and in order to prevent undue warmth, every expression which implied obstinate adherence to an opinion, and all direct contradiction, were prohibited, under small pecuniary penalties. the first members of our club were joseph breintnal, whose occupation was that of a scrivener. he was a middle-aged man, of a good natural disposition, strongly attached to his friends, a great lover of poetry, reading every thing that came in his way, and writing tolerably well, ingenious in many little trifles, and of an agreeable conversation. thomas godfrey, a skilful, though self-taught mathematician, and who was afterwards the inventor of what now goes by the name of hadley's quadrant; but he had little knowledge out of his own line, and was insupportable in company, always requiring, like the majority of mathematicians that had fallen in my way, an unusual precision in every thing that is said, continually contradicting, or making trifling distinctions; a sure way of defeating all the ends of conversation. he very soon left us. nicholas scull, a surveyor, and who became afterwards, surveyor-general. he was fond of books, and wrote verses. william parsons, brought up to the trade of a shoe-maker, but who, having a taste for reading, had acquired a profound knowledge of mathematics. he first studied them with a view to astrology, and was, afterwards, the first to laugh at his folly. he also became surveyor-general. william mawgridge, a joiner, and very excellent mechanic; and in other respects a man of solid understanding. hugh meredith, stephen potts, and george webb, of whom i have already spoken. robert grace, a young man of fortune; generous, animated, and witty; fond of epigrams, but more fond of his friends. and lastly, william coleman, at that time a merchant's clerk, and nearly of my own age. he had a cooler and clearer head, a better heart, and more scrupulous morals, than almost any other person i have ever met with. he became a very respectable merchant, and one of our provincial judges. our friendship subsisted, without interruption, for more than forty years, till the period of his death; and the club continued to exist almost as long. this was the best school of politics and philosophy that then existed in the province; for our questions, which were read a week previous to their discussion, induced us to peruse attentively such books as were written upon the subjects proposed, that we might be able to speak upon them more pertinently. we thus acquired the habit of conversing more agreeably; every object being discussed conformably to our regulations, and in a manner to prevent mutual disgust. to this circumstance may be attributed the long duration of the club; which i shall have frequent occasion to mention as i proceed. i have introduced it here, as being one of the means on which i had to count for success in my business, every member exerting himself to procure work for us. breintnal, among others, obtained for us, on the part of the quakers, the printing of forty sheets of their history; of which the rest was to be done by keimer. our execution of this work was by no means masterly; as the price was very low. it was in folio, upon _pro patria_ paper, and in the _pica_ letter, with heavy notes in the smallest type. i composed a sheet a-day, and meredith put it to the press. it was frequently eleven o'clock at night, sometimes later, before i had finished my distribution for the next day's task; for the little things which our friends occasionally sent us, kept us back in this work: but i was so determined to compose a sheet a-day, that one evening, when my form was imposed, and my day's work, as i thought, at an end, an accident having broken this form, and deranged two complete folio pages, i immediately distributed, and composed them anew before i went to bed. this unwearied industry, which was perceived by our neighbours, began to acquire us reputation and credit. i learned, among other things, that our new printing-house being the subject of conversation at a club of merchants, who met every evening, it was the general opinion that it would fail; there being already two printing-houses in the town, keimer's and bradford's. but dr. bard, whom you and i had occasion to see, many years after, at his native town of st. andrew's, in scotland, was of a different opinion. "the industry of this franklin, (said he,) is superior to any thing of the kind i ever witnessed. i see him still at work when i return from the club at night, and he is at it again in the morning before his neighbours are out of bed." this account struck the rest of the assembly, and shortly after, one of its members came to our house, and offered to supply us with articles of stationary; but we wished not as yet to embarrass ourselves with keeping a shop. it is not for the sake of applause that i enter so freely into the particulars of my industry, but that such of my descendants as shall read these memoirs may know the use of this virtue, by seeing in the recital of my life the effects it operated in my favour. george webb, having found a friend who lent him the necessary sum to buy out his time of keimer, came one day to offer himself to us as a journeyman. we could not employ him immediately; but i foolishly told him, under the rose, that i intended shortly to publish a new periodical paper, and that we should then have work for him. my hopes of success, which i imparted to him, were founded on the circumstance, that the only paper we had in philadelphia at that time, and which bradford printed, was a paltry thing, miserably conducted, in no respect amusing, and which yet was profitable. i consequently supposed that a good work of this kind could not fail of success. webb betrayed my secret to keimer, who, to prevent me, immediately published the _prospectus_ of a paper that he intended to institute himself, and in which webb was to be engaged. i was exasperated at this proceeding, and, with a view to counteract them, not being able at present to institute my own paper, i wrote some humourous pieces in bradford's, under the title of the busy body[ ]; and which was continued for several months by breintnal. i hereby fixed the attention of the public upon bradford's paper; and the _prospectus_ of keimer, which we turned into ridicule, was treated with contempt. he began, notwithstanding, his paper; and after continuing it for nine months, having at most not more than ninety subscribers, he offered it me for a mere trifle. i had for some time been ready for such an engagement; i therefore instantly took it upon myself, and, in a few years, it proved extremely profitable to me. i perceive that i am apt to speak in the first person, though our partnership still continued. it is, perhaps, because, in fact, the whole business devolved upon me. meredith was no compositor, and but an indifferent pressman; and it was rarely that he abstained from hard drinking. my friends were sorry to see me connected with him; but i contrived to derive from it the utmost advantage the case admitted. our first number produced no other effect than any other paper which had appeared in the province, as to type and printing; but some remarks, in my peculiar style of writing, upon the dispute which then prevailed between governor burnet and the massachusetts assembly, struck some persons as above mediocrity, caused the paper and its editors to be talked of, and in a few weeks, induced them to become our subscribers. many others followed their example; and our subscription continued to increase. this was one of the first good effects of the pains i had taken to learn to put my ideas on paper. i derived this farther advantage from it, that the leading men of the place, seeing in the author of this publication a man so well able to use his pen, thought it right to patronize and encourage me. the votes, laws, and other public pieces, were printed by bradford. an address of the house of assembly to the governor had been executed by him in a very coarse and incorrect manner. we reprinted it with accuracy and neatness, and sent a copy to every member. they perceived the difference; and it so strengthened the influence of our friends in the assembly, that we were nominated its printer for the following year. among these friends i ought not to forget one member in particular, mr. hamilton, whom i have mentioned in a former part of my narrative, and who was now returned from england. he warmly interested himself for me on this occasion, as he did likewise on many others afterwards; having continued his kindness to me till his death. about this period mr. vernon reminded me of the debt i owed him, but without pressing me for payment. i wrote a handsome letter on the occasion, begging him to wait a little longer, to which he consented; and as soon as i was able i paid him, principal and interest, with many expressions of gratitude; so that this error of my life was in a manner atoned for. but another trouble now happened to me, which i had not the smallest reason to expect. meredith's father, who, according to our agreement, was to defray the whole expence of our printing materials, had only paid a hundred pounds. another hundred was still due, and the merchant being tired of waiting, commenced a suit against us. we bailed the action, but with the melancholy prospect, that, if the money was not forthcoming at the time fixed, the affair would come to issue, judgment be put in execution, our delightful hopes be annihilated, and ourselves entirely ruined; as the type and press must be sold, perhaps, at half their value, to pay the debt. in this distress, two real friends, whose generous conduct i have never forgotten, and never shall forget while i retain the remembrance of any thing, came to me separately, without the knowledge of each other, and without my having applied to either of them. each offered me whatever money might be necessary to take the business into my own hands, if the thing was practicable, as they did not like i should continue in partnership with meredith, who, they said, was frequently seen drunk in the streets, and gambling at ale-houses, which very much injured our credit. these friends were william coleman and robert grace. i told them, that while there remained any probability that the merediths would fulfil their part of the compact, i could not propose a separation, as i conceived myself to be under obligations to them for what they had done already, and were still disposed to do, if they had the power; but, in the end, should they fail in their engagement, and our partnership be dissolved, i should then think myself at liberty to accept the kindness of my friends. things remained for some time in this state. at last, i said one day to my partner, "your father is, perhaps, dissatisfied with your having a share only in the business, and is unwilling to do for two, what he would do for you alone. tell me frankly if that be the case, and i will resign the whole to you, and do for myself as well as i can."--"no, (said he,) my father has really been disappointed in his hopes; he is not able to pay, and i wish to put him to no farther inconvenience. i see that i am not at all calculated for a printer; i was educated as a farmer, and it was absurd in me to come here, at thirty years of age, and bind myself apprentice to a new trade. many of my countrymen are going to settle in north carolina, where the soil is exceedingly favourable. i am tempted to go with them, and to resume my former occupation. you will doubtless find friends who will assist you. if you will take upon yourself the debts of the partnership, return my father the hundred pounds he has advanced, pay my little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds and a new saddle, i will renounce the partnership, and consign over the whole stock to you." i accepted this proposal without hesitation. it was committed to paper, and signed and sealed without delay. i gave him what he demanded, and he departed soon after for carolina, from whence he sent me, in the following year, two long letters, containing the best accounts that had yet been given of that country, as to climate, soil, agriculture, &c. for he was well versed in these matters. i published them in my newspaper, and they were received with great satisfaction. as soon as he was gone, i applied to my two friends, and not wishing to give a disobliging preference to either of them, i accepted from each, half what he had offered me, and which it was necessary i should have. i paid the partnership debts, and continued the business on my own account; taking care to inform the public, by advertisement, of the partnership being dissolved. this was, i think, in the year , or thereabout. nearly at the same period, the people demanded a new emission of paper money; the existing and only one that had taken place in the province, and which amounted to fifteen thousand pounds, being soon to expire. the wealthy inhabitants, prejudiced against every sort of paper currency, from the fear of its depreciation, of which there had been an instance in the province of new england, to the injury of its holders, strongly opposed the measure. we had discussed this affair in our junto, in which i was on the side of the new emission; convinced that the first small sum, fabricated in , had done much good in the province, by favouring commerce, industry, and population, since all the houses were now inhabited, and many others building; whereas i remembered to have seen, when i first paraded the streets of philadelphia eating my roll, the majority of those in walnut-street, second-street, fourth-street, as well as a great number in chesnut and other streets, with papers on them signifying that they were to be let; which made me think at the time that the inhabitants of the town were deserting it one after another. our debates made me so fully master of the subject, that i wrote and published an anonymous pamphlet, entitled, "an enquiry into the nature and necessity of a paper currency." it was very well received by the lower and middling class of people; but it displeased the opulent, as it increased the clamour in favour of the new emission. having, however, no writer among them capable of answering it, their opposition became less violent; and there being in the house of assembly a majority for the measure, it passed. the friends i had acquired in the house, persuaded that i had done the country essential service on this occasion, rewarded me by giving me the printing of the bills. it was a lucrative employment, and proved a very seasonable help to me; another advantage which i derived from having habituated myself to write. time and experience so fully demonstrated the utility of paper currency, that it never after experienced any considerable opposition; so that it soon amounted to , _l._ and in the year , to , _l._ it has since risen, during the last war, to , _l._, trade, buildings and population, having in the interval continually increased: but i am now convinced that there are limits beyond which paper money would be prejudicial. i soon after obtained, by the influence of my friend hamilton, the printing of the newcastle paper money, another profitable work, as i then thought it, little things appearing great to persons of moderate fortune; and they were really great to me, as proving great encouragements. he also procured me the printing of the laws and votes of that government, which i retained as long as i continued in the business. i now opened a small stationer's shop. i kept bonds and agreements of all kinds, drawn up in a more accurate form than had yet been seen in that part of the world; a work in which i was assisted by my friend breintnal. i had also paper, parchment, pasteboard, books, &c. one whitemash, an excellent compositor, whom i had known in london, came to offer himself, i engaged him: and he continued constantly and diligently to work with me. i also took an apprentice, the son of aquila rose. i began to pay, by degrees, the debt i had contracted; and, in order to insure my credit and character as a tradesman, i took care not only to be _really_ industrious and frugal, but also to avoid every appearance of the contrary. i was plainly dressed, and never seen in any place of public amusement. i never went a fishing or hunting. a book, indeed, enticed me sometimes from my work, but it was seldom, by stealth, and occasioned no scandal; and to show that i did not think myself above my profession, i conveyed home, sometimes in a wheelbarrow, the paper i purchased at the warehouses. i thus obtained the reputation of being an industrious young man, and very punctual in his payments. the merchants who imported articles of stationary solicited my custom; others offered to furnish me with books, and my little trade went on prosperously. meanwhile the credit and business of keimer diminishing every day, he was at last forced to sell his stock to satisfy his creditors; and he betook himself to barbadoes, where he lived for sometime in a very impoverished state. his apprentice, david harry, whom i had instructed while i worked for keimer, having bought his materials, succeeded him in the business. i was apprehensive, at first, of finding in harry a powerful competitor, as he was allied to an opulent and respectable family; i therefore proposed a partnership, which, happily for me, he rejected with disdain. he was extremely proud, thought himself a fine gentleman, lived extravagantly, and pursued amusements which suffered him to be scarcely ever at home; of consequence he became in debt, neglected his business, and business neglected him. finding in a short time nothing to do in the country, he followed keimer to barbadoes, carrying his printing materials with him. there the apprentice employed his old master as a journeyman. they were continually quarrelling; and harry still getting in debt, was obliged at last to sell his press and types, and return to his old occupation of husbandry in pennsylvania. the person who purchased them employed keimer to manage the business; but he died a few years after. i had now at philadelphia no competitor but bradford, who, being in easy circumstances, did not engage in the printing of books, except now and then as workmen chanced to offer themselves; and was not anxious to extend his trade. he had, however, one advantage over me, as he had the direction of the post-office, and was of consequence supposed to have better opportunities of obtaining news. his paper was also supposed to be more advantageous to advertising customers; and in consequence of that supposition, his advertisements were much more numerous than mine: this was a source of great profit to him, and disadvantageous to me. it was to no purpose that i really procured other papers, and distributed my own, by means of the post; the public took for granted my inability in this respect; and i was indeed unable to conquer it in any other mode than by bribing the post-boys, who served me only by stealth, bradford being so illiberal as to forbid them. this treatment of his excited my resentment; and my disgust was so rooted, that, when i afterwards succeeded him in the post-office, i took care to avoid copying his example. i had hitherto continued to board with godfrey, who, with his wife and children, occupied part of my house, and half of the shop for his business; at which indeed he worked very little, being always absorbed by mathematics. mrs. godfrey formed a wish of marrying me to the daughter of one of her relations. she contrived various opportunities of bringing us together, till she saw that i was captivated; which was not difficult, the lady in question possessing great personal merit. the parents encouraged my addresses, by inviting me continually to supper, and leaving us together, till at last it was time to come to an explanation. mrs. godfrey undertook to negociate our little treaty. i gave her to understand, that i expected to receive with the young lady a sum of money that would enable me at least to discharge the remainder of the debt for my printing materials. it was then, i believe, not more than a hundred pounds. she brought me for answer, that they had no such sum at their disposal. i observed that it might easily be obtained, by a mortgage on their house. the reply to this was, after a few days interval, that they did not approve of the match; that they had consulted bradford, and found that the business of a printer was not lucrative; that my letters would soon be worn out, and must be supplied with new ones; that keimer and harry had failed, and that, probably, i should do so too. accordingly they forbade me the house, and the young lady was confined. i know not if they had really changed their minds, or if it was merely an artifice, supposing our affections to be too far engaged for us to desist, and that we should contrive to marry secretly, which would leave them at liberty to give or not as they pleased. but, suspecting this motive, i never went again to their house. some time after, mrs. godfrey informed me that they were very favourably disposed towards me, and wished me to renew the acquaintance; but i declared a firm resolution never to have any thing more to do with the family. the godfreys expressed some resentment at this: and as we could no longer agree, they changed their residence, leaving me in possession of the whole house. i then resolved to take no more lodgers. this affair having turned my thoughts to marriage, i looked around me, and made overtures of alliance in other quarters: but i soon found that the profession of a printer being generally looked upon as a poor trade, i could expect no money with a wife, at least, if i wished her to possess any other charm. meanwhile, that passion of youth, so difficult to govern, had often drawn me into intrigues with despicable women who fell in my way; which were not unaccompanied with expence and inconvenience, besides the perpetual risk of injuring my health, and catching a disease which i dreaded above all things. but i was fortunate enough to escape this danger. as a neighbour and old acquaintance, i had kept up a friendly intimacy with the family of miss read. her parents had retained an affection for me from the time of my lodging in their house. i was often invited thither; they consulted me about their affairs, and i had been sometimes serviceable to them. i was touched with the unhappy situation of their daughter, who was almost always melancholy, and continually seeking solitude. i regarded my forgetfulness and inconstancy, during my abode in london, as the principal cause of her misfortune, though her mother had the candour to attribute the fault to herself, rather than to me, because after having prevented our marriage previously to my departure, she had induced her to marry another in my absence. our mutual affection revived; but there existed great obstacles to our union. her marriage was considered, indeed, as not being valid, the man having, it was said, a former wife still living in england; but of this it was difficult to obtain a proof at so great a distance; and though a report prevailed of his being dead, yet we had no certainty of it; and supposing it to be true, he had left many debts, for the payment of which his successor might be sued. we ventured, nevertheless, in spite of all these difficulties; and i married her on the st of september, . none of the inconveniences we had feared happened to us. she proved to me a good and faithful companion, and contributed essentially to the success of my shop. we prospered together, and it was our mutual study to render each other happy. thus i corrected, as well as i could, this great error of my youth. our club was not at that time established at a tavern. we held our meetings at the house of mr. grace, who appropriated a room to the purpose. some member observed one day, that as our books were frequently quoted in the course of our discussions, it would be convenient to have them collected in the room in which we assembled, in order to be consulted upon occasion; and that, by thus forming a common library of our individual collections, each would have the advantage of using the books of all the other members, which would nearly be the same as if he possessed them all himself. the idea was approved, and we accordingly brought such books as we thought we could spare, which were placed at the end of the club-room. they amounted not to so many as we expected; and through we made considerable use of them, yet some inconveniences resulting, from want of care, it was agreed, after about a year, to discontinue the collection; and each took away such books as belonged to him. it was now that i first started the idea of establishing, by subscription, a public library, i drew up the proposals, had them ingrossed in form by brockden the attorney, and my project succeeded, as will be seen in the sequel. [the life of dr. franklin, as written by himself, so far as it has yet been communicated to the world, breaks off in this place. we understand that it was continued by him somewhat farther, and we hope that the remainder will, at some future period, be communicated to the public. we have no hesitation in supposing that every reader will find himself greatly interested by the frank simplicity and the philosophical discernment by which these pages are so eminently characterized. we have therefore thought proper, in order as much as possible to relieve his regret, to subjoin the following continuation, by one of the doctor's intimate friends. it is extracted from an american periodical publication, and was written by the late dr. stuber,[ ] of philadelphia.] the promotion of literature had been little attended to in pennsylvania. most of the inhabitants were too much immersed in business to think of scientific pursuits; and those few, whose inclinations led them to study, found it difficult to gratify them, from the want of libraries sufficiently large. in such circumstances, the establishment of a public library was an important event. this was first set on foot by franklin, about the year . fifty persons subscribed forty shillings each, and agreed to pay ten shillings annually. the number increased; and in , the company was incorporated by the name of "the library company of philadelphia." several other companies were formed in this city in imitation of it. these were all at length united with the library company of philadelphia, which thus received a considerable accession of books and property. it now contains about eight thousand volumes on all subjects, a philosophical apparatus, and a well-chosen collection of natural and artificial curiosities. for its support the company now possesses landed property of considerable value. they have lately built an elegant house in fifth-street, in the front of which will be erected a marble statue of their founder, benjamin franklin. this institution was greatly encouraged by the friends of literature in america and in great britain. the penn family distinguished themselves by their donations. amongst the earliest friends of this institution must be mentioned the late peter collinson, the friend and correspondent of dr. franklin. he not only made considerable presents himself, and obtained others from his friends, but voluntarily undertook to manage the business of the company in london, recommending books, purchasing and shipping them. his extensive knowledge, and zeal for the promotion of science, enabled him to execute this important trust with the greatest advantage. he continued to perform these services for more than thirty years, and uniformly refused to accept of any compensation. during this time, he communicated to the directors every information relative to improvements and discoveries in the arts, agriculture, and philosophy. the beneficial influence of this institution was soon evident. the terms of subscription to it were so moderate that it was accessible to every one. its advantages were not confined to the opulent. the citizens in the middle and lower walks of life were equally partakers of them. hence a degree of information was extended amongst all classes of people. the example was soon followed. libraries were established in various places, and they are now become very numerous in the united states, and particularly in pennsylvania. it is to be hoped that they will be still more widely extended, and that information will be every where increased. this will be the best security for maintaining our liberties. a nation of well informed men, who have been taught to know and prize the rights which god has given them, cannot be enslaved. it is in the regions of ignorance that tyranny reigns. it flies before the light of science. let the citizens of america, then, encourage institutions calculated to diffuse knowledge amongst the people; and amongst these, public libraries are not the least important. in , franklin began to publish poor richard's almanack. this was remarkable for the numerous and valuable concise maxims which it contained, all tending to exhort to industry and frugality. it was continued for many years. in the almanack for the last year, all the maxims were collected in an address to the reader, entitled, the way to wealth. this has been translated into various languages, and inserted in different publications. it has also been printed on a large sheet, and may be seen framed in many houses in this city. this address contains, perhaps, the best practical system of economy that ever has appeared. it is written in a manner intelligible to every one, and which cannot fail of convincing every reader of the justice and propriety of the remarks and advice which it contains. the demand for this almanack was so great, that ten thousand have been sold in one year; which must be considered as a very large number, especially when we reflect, that this country was, at that time, but thinly peopled. it cannot be doubted that the salutary maxims contained in these almanacks must have made a favourable impression upon many of the readers of them. it was not long before franklin entered upon his political career. in the year , he was appointed clerk to the general assembly of pennsylvania, and was re-elected by succeeding assemblies for several years, until he was chosen a representative for the city of philadelphia. bradford, the printer, mentioned above, was possessed of some advantages over franklin, by being post-master, thereby having an opportunity of circulating his paper more extensively, and thus rendering it a better vehicle for advertisements, &c. franklin, in his turn, enjoyed these advantages, by being appointed post-master of philadelphia in . bradford, while in office, had acted ungenerously towards franklin, preventing as much as possible the circulation of his paper. he had now an opportunity of retaliating; but his nobleness of soul prevented him from making use of it. the police of philadelphia had early appointed watchmen, whose duty it was to guard the citizens against the midnight robber, and to give an immediate alarm in case of fire. this duty is, perhaps, one of the most important that can be committed to any set of men. the regulations, however, were not sufficiently strict. franklin saw the dangers arising from this cause, and suggested an alteration, so as to oblige the guardians of the night to be more watchful over the lives and property of the citizens. the propriety of this was immediately perceived, and a reform was effected. there is nothing more dangerous to growing cities than fires. other causes operate slowly, and almost imperceptibly; but these in a moment render abortive the labours of ages. on this account there should be, in all cities, ample provisions to prevent fires from spreading. franklin early saw the necessity of these; and, about the year , formed the first fire company in this city. the example was soon followed by others; and there are now numerous fire companies in the city and liberties. to these may be attributed in a great degree the activity in extinguishing fires, for which the citizens of philadelphia are distinguished, and the inconsiderable damage this city has sustained from this cause. some time after, franklin suggested the plan for an association for insuring houses from losses by fire, which was adopted; and the association continues to this day. the advantages experienced from it have been great. from the first settlement of pennsylvania, a spirit of dispute appears to have prevailed among its inhabitants. during the life-time of william penn, the constitution had been three times altered. after this period the history of pennsylvania is little else than a recital of the quarrels between the proprietaries, or their governors, and the assembly. the proprietaries contended for the right of exempting their land from taxes; to which the assembly would by no means consent. this subject of dispute interfered in almost every question, and prevented the most salutary laws from being enacted. this at times subjected the people to great inconveniences. in the year , during a war between france and great britain, some french and indians had made inroads upon the frontier inhabitants of the province, who were unprovided for such an attack. it became necessary that the citizens should arm for their defence. governor thomas recommended to the assembly, who were then sitting, to pass a militia law. to this they would agree only upon condition, that he should give his assent to certain laws, which appeared to them calculated to promote the interests of the people. as he thought these laws would be injurious to the proprietaries, he refused his assent to them; and the assembly broke up without passing a militia bill. the situation of the province was at this time truly alarming: exposed to the continual inroad of an enemy, and destitute of every means of defence. at this crisis franklin stepped forth, and proposed to a meeting of the citizens of philadelphia, a plan of a voluntary association for the defence of the province. this was approved of, and signed by twelve hundred persons immediately. copies were circulated without delay through the province; and in a short time the number of signatures amounted to ten thousand. franklin was chosen colonel of the philadelphia regiment; but he did not think proper to accept of the honour. pursuits of a different nature now occupied the greatest part of his attention for some years. he engaged in a course of electrical experiments, with all the ardor and thirst for discovery which characterized the philosophers of that day. of all the branches of experimental philosophy, electricity had been least explored. the attractive power of amber is mentioned by theophrastus and pliny, and from them, by later naturalists. in the year , gilbert, an english physician, enlarged considerably the catalogue of substances which have the property of attracting light bodies. boyle, otto guericke, a burgomaster of magdeburg, celebrated as the inventor of the air-pump, dr. wall, and sir isaac newton added some facts. guericke first observed the repulsive power of electricity, and the light and noise produced by it. in , hawkesbec communicated some important observations and experiments to the world. for several years electricity was entirely neglected, until mr. grey applied himself to it, in , with great assiduity. he and his friend mr. wheeler, made a great variety of experiments, in which they demonstrated, that electricity may be communicated from one body to another, even without being in contact, and in this way may be conducted to a great distance. mr. grey afterwards found, that, by suspending rods of iron by silk or hair lines, and bringing an excited tube under them, sparks might be drawn, and a light perceived at the extremities in the dark. m. du faye, intendant of the french king's gardens, made a number of experiments, which added not a little to the science. he made the discovery of two kinds of electricity, which he called _vitreous_ and _resinous_; the former produced by rubbing glass, the latter from excited sulphur, sealing-wax, &c. but this he afterwards gave up as erroneous. between the years and , desaguliers made a number of experiments, but added little of importance. he first used the terms _conductors_ and _electrics per se_. in , several ingenious germans engaged in this subject, of these the principal were, professor boze of wittemberg, professor winkler of leipsic, gordon, a scotch benedictine monk, professor of philosophy at erfurt, and dr. ludolf, of berlin. the result of their researches astonished the philosophers of europe. their apparatus was large, and by means of it they were enabled to collect large quantities of the electric fluid, and thus to produce phenomena which had been hitherto unobserved. they killed small birds, and set spirits on fire. their experiments excited the curiosity of other philosophers. collinson, about the year , sent to the library company of philadelphia, an account of these experiments, together with a tube, and directions how to use it. franklin, with some of his friends, immediately engaged in a course of experiments, the result of which is well known. he was enabled to make a number of important discoveries, and to propose theories to account for various phenomena, which have been universally adopted, and which bid fair to endure for ages. his observations he communicated in a series of letters, to his friend collinson, the first of which is dated march , . in these he shews the power of points in drawing and throwing off the electrical matter, which had hitherto escaped the notice of electricians. he also made the grand discovery of a _plus_ and _minus_, or of a _positive_ and _negative_ state of electricity. we give him the honour of this, without hesitation; although the english have claimed it for their countryman, dr. watson. watson's paper is dated january , ; franklin's july , : several months prior. shortly after, franklin, from his principles of the plus and minus state, explained, in a satisfactory manner, the phenomena of the leyden phial, first observed by mr. cuneus, or by professor muschenbroeck, of leyden, which had much perplexed philosophers. he shewed clearly, that when charged, the bottle contained no more electricity than before, but that as much was taken from one side as was thrown on the other; and that, to discharge it, nothing was necessary but to produce a communication between the two sides, by which the equilibrium might be restored, and that then no signs of electricity would remain. he afterwards demonstrated, by experiments, that the electricity did not reside in the coating, as had been supposed, but in the pores of the glass itself. after a phial was charged, he removed the coating, and found that upon applying a new coating, the shock might still be received. in the year , he first suggested his idea of explaining the phenomena of thunder-gusts, and of the aurora borealis, upon electrical principles. he points out many particulars in which lightning and electricity agree; and he adduces many facts, and reasonings from facts, in support of his positions. in the same year he conceived the astonishingly bold and grand idea of ascertaining the truth of his doctrine, by actually drawing down the lightning, by means of sharp-pointed iron rods, raised into the region of the clouds. even in this uncertain state, his passion to be useful to mankind, displayed itself in a powerful manner. admitting the identity of electricity and lightning, and knowing the power of points in repelling bodies charged with electricity, and in conducting their fire silently and imperceptibly, he suggested the idea of securing houses, ships, &c. from being damaged by lightning, by erecting pointed rods, that should rise some feet above the most elevated part, and descend some feet into the ground or the water. the effect of these, he concluded, would be either to present a stroke by repelling the cloud beyond the striking distance, or by drawing off the electrical fire which it contained; or, if they could not effect this, they would at least conduct the electric matter to the earth, without any injury to the building. it was not until the summer of , that he was enabled to complete his grand and unparalleled discovery by experiment. the plan, which he had originally proposed, was, to erect on some high tower, or other elevated place, a centry-box, from which should rise a pointed iron rod, insulated by being fixed in a cake of resin. electrified clouds passing over this, would, he conceived, impart to it a portion of their electricity, which would be rendered evident to the senses by sparks being emitted, when a key, the knuckle, or other conductor was presented to it. philadelphia at this time afforded no opportunity of trying an experiment of this kind. while franklin was waiting for the erection of a spire, it occurred to him that he might have more ready access to the region of clouds by means of a common kite. he prepared one by fastening two cross sticks to a silk handkerchief, which would not suffer so much from the rain as paper. to the upright stick was affixed an iron point. the string was, as usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk. where the hempen string terminated, a key was fastened. with this apparatus, on the appearance of a thunder-gust approaching, he went out into the commons, accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communicated his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, too generally for the interest of science, awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. he placed himself under a shade, to avoid the rain--his kite was raised--a thunder-cloud passed over it--no sign of electricity appeared. he almost despaired of success, when, suddenly, he observed the loose fibres of his string to move towards an erect position. he now presented his knuckle to the key, and received a strong spark. how exquisite must his sensations have been at this moment! on this experiment depended the fate of his theory. if he succeeded, his name would rank high among those who had improved science; if he failed, he must inevitably be subjected to the derision of mankind, or, what is worse, their pity, as a well-meaning man, but a weak, silly projector. the anxiety with which he looked for the result of his experiment, may be easily conceived. doubts and despair had begun to prevail, when the fact was ascertained in so clear a manner, that even the most incredulous could no longer withhold their assent.--repeated sparks were drawn from the key, a phial was charged, a shock given, and all the experiments made which are usually performed with electricity. about a month before this period, some ingenious frenchman had completed the discovery in the manner originally proposed by dr. franklin. the letters which he sent to mr. collinson, it is said, were refused a place in the transactions of the royal society of london. however this may be, collinson published them in a separate volume, under the title of "new experiments and observations on electricity, made at philadelphia, in america." they were read with avidity, and soon translated into different languages. a very incorrect french translation fell into the hands of the celebrated buffon, who, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which the work laboured, was much pleased with it, and repeated the experiments with success. he prevailed on his friend, m. d'alibard, to give his countrymen a more correct translation of the works of the american electrician. this contributed much towards spreading a knowledge of franklin's principles in france. the king, louis xv., hearing of these experiments, expressed a wish to be a spectator of them. a course of experiments was given at the seat of the d'ayen, at st. germain, by m. de lor. the applauses which the king bestowed upon franklin, excited in buffon, d'alibard, and de lor, an earnest desire of ascertaining the truth of his theory of thunder-gusts. buffon erected his apparatus on the tower of montbar, m. d'alibard at marly-la-ville, and de lor at his house in the _estrapade_ at paris, some of the highest ground in that capital. d'alibard's machine first shewed signs of electricity. on the th of may, , a thunder cloud passed over it, in the absence of m. d'alibard, and a number of sparks were drawn from it by coiffier, joiner, with whom d'alibard had left directions how to proceed, and by m. raulet, the prior of marly-la-ville. an account of this experiment was given to the royal academy of sciences, by m. d'alibard, in a memoir dated may th, . on the th of may, m. de lor proved equally successful with the apparatus erected at his own house. these philosophers soon excited those of other parts of europe to repeat the experiment; amongst whom, none signalised themselves more than father beccaria, of turin, to whose observations science is much indebted. even the cold regions of russia were penetrated by the ardor for discovery. professor richman bade fair to add much to the stock of knowledge on this subject, when an unfortunate flash from his conductor, put a period to his existence. the friends of science will long remember with regret, the amiable martyr to electricity. by these experiments franklin's theory was established in the most convincing manner. when the truth of it could no longer be doubted, envy and vanity endeavoured to detract from its merit. that an american, an inhabitant of the obscure city of philadelphia, the name of which was hardly known, should be able to make discoveries, and to frame theories, which had escaped the notice of the enlightened philosophers of europe, was too mortifying to be admitted. he must certainly have taken the idea from some one else. an american, a being of an inferior order, make discoveries!--impossible. it was said, that the abbé nollet, , had suggested the idea of the similarity of lightning and electricity in his _leçons de physique_. it is true that the abbé mentions the idea, but he throws it out as a bare conjecture, and proposes no mode of ascertaining the truth of it. he himself acknowledges, that franklin first entertained the bold thought of bringing lightning from the heavens, by means of pointed rods fixed in the air. the similarity of lightning and electricity is so strong, that we need not be surprised at notice being taken of it, as soon as electrical phenomena became familiar. we find it mentioned by dr. wall and mr. grey, while the science was in its infancy. but the honour of forming a regular theory of thunder-gusts, of suggesting a mode of determining the truth of it by experiments, and of putting these experiments in practice, and thus establishing the theory upon a firm and solid basis, is incontestibly due to franklin. d'alibard, who made the first experiments in france, says, that he only followed the tract which franklin had pointed out. it has been of late asserted, that the honour of completing the experiment with the electrical kite, does not belong to franklin. some late english paragraphs have attributed it to some frenchman, whose name they do not mention; and the abbé bertholon gives it to m. de romas, assessor to the presideal of nerac; the english paragraphs probably refer to the same person. but a very slight attention will convince us of the injustice of this procedure: dr. franklin's experiment was made in june ; and his letter, giving an account of it, is dated october , . m. de romas made his first attempt on the th of may, , but was not successful until the th of june; a year after franklin had completed the discovery, and when it was known to all the philosophers in europe. besides these great principles, franklin's letters on electricity contain a number of facts and hints, which have contributed greatly towards reducing this branch of knowledge to a science. his friend mr. kinnersley communicated to him a discovery of the different kinds of electricity, excited by rubbing glass and sulphur. this, we have said, was first observed by m. du faye; but it was for many years neglected. the philosophers were disposed to account for the phenomena, rather from a difference in the quantity of electricity collected, and even du faye himself seems at last to have adopted this doctrine. franklin at first entertained the same idea; but upon repeating the experiments, he perceived that mr. kinnersley was right; and that the _vitreous_ and _resinous_ electricity of du faye were nothing more than the _positive_, and _negative_ states which he had before observed; and that the glass globe charged _positively_ or increased the quantity of electricity on the prime conductor, while the globe of sulphur diminished its natural quantity, or charged _negatively_. these experiments and observations opened a new field for investigation, upon which electricians entered with avidity; and their labours have added much to the stock of our knowledge. in september, , franklin entered upon a course of experiments, to determine the state of electricity in the clouds. from a number of experiments he formed this conclusion:--"that the clouds of a thunder-gust are most commonly in a negative state of electricity, but sometimes in a positive state;" and from this it follows, as a necessary consequence, "that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes, it is the earth that strikes into the clouds, and not the clouds that strike into the earth." the letter containing these observations is dated in september, ; and yet the discovery of ascending thunder has been said to be of a modern date, and has been attributed to the abbé bertholon, who published his memoir on the subject in . franklin's letters have been translated into most of the european languages, and into latin. in proportion as they have become known, his principles have been adopted. some opposition was made to his theories, particularly by the abbé nollet, who was, however, but feebly supported, while the first philosophers in europe stepped forth in defence of franklin's principles, amongst whom d'alibard and beccaria were the most distinguished. the opposition has gradually ceased, and the franklinian system is now universally adopted, where science flourishes. the important practical use which franklin made of his discoveries, the securing of houses from injury by lightning, has been already mentioned. pointed conductors are now very common in america; but prejudice has hitherto prevented their general introduction into europe, notwithstanding the most undoubted proofs of their utility have been given. but mankind can with difficulty be brought to lay aside practices, or to adopt new ones. and perhaps we have more reason, to be surprised, that a practice however rational, which was proposed about forty years ago, should in that time have been adopted in so many places, than that it has not universally prevailed. it is only by degrees that the great body of mankind can be led into new practices, however salutary their tendency. it is now nearly eighty years since inoculation was introduced into europe and america; and it is so far from being general at present, that it will, require one or two centuries to render it so. in the year , franklin published an account of his new-invented pennsylvania fire-places, in which he minutely and accurately states the advantages of different kinds of fire-places; and endeavours to show that the one which he describes is to be preferred to any other. this contrivance has given rise to the open stoves now in general use, which, however, differ from it in construction, particularly in not having an air-box at the back, through which a constant supply of air, warmed in its passage, is thrown into the room. the advantages of this are, that as a stream of warm air is continually flowing into the room, less fuel is necessary to preserve a proper temperature, and the room may be so tightened as that no air may enter through cracks--the consequence of which are colds, tooth-aches, &c. although philosophy was a principal object of franklin's pursuit for several years, he confined himself not to this. in the year , he became a member of the general assembly of pennsylvania, as a burgess for the city of philadelphia. warm disputes subsisted at this time between the assembly and the proprietaries; each contending for what they conceived to be their just rights. franklin, a friend to the rights of man from his infancy, soon distinguished himself as a steady opponent of the unjust schemes of the proprietaries. he was soon looked up to as the head of the opposition; and to him have been attributed many of the spirited replies of the assembly, to the messages of the governors. his influence in the body was very great. this arose not from any superior powers of eloquence; he spoke but seldom, and he never was known to make any thing like an elaborate harangue. his speeches often consisted of a single sentence, or of a well-told story, the moral of which was always obviously to the point. he never attempted the flowery fields of oratory. his manner was plain and mild. his style in speaking was, like that of his writings, simple, unadorned, and remarkably concise. with this plain manner, and his penetrating and solid judgment, he was able to confound the most eloquent and subtle of his adversaries, to confirm the opinions of his friends, and to make converts of the unprejudiced who had opposed him. with a single observation, he has rendered of no avail an elegant and lengthy discourse, and determined the fate of a question of importance. but he was not contented with thus supporting the rights of the people. he wished to render them permanently secure, which can only be done by making their value properly known; and this must depend upon increasing and extending information to every class of men. we have already seen that he was the founder of the public library, which contributed greatly towards improving the minds of the citizens. but this was not sufficient. the schools then subsisting were in general of little utility. the teachers were men ill qualified for the important duty which they had undertaken; and, after all, nothing more could be obtained than the rudiments of a common english education. franklin drew up a plan of an academy, to be erected in the city of philadelphia, suited to "the state of an infant country;" but in this, as in all his plans, he confined not his views to the present time only. he looked forward to the period when an institution on an enlarged plan would become necessary. with this view, he considered his academy as "a foundation for posterity to erect a seminary of learning more extensive, and suitable to future circumstances." in pursuance of this plan, the constitutions were drawn up and signed on the th of november, . in these, twenty-four of the most respectable citizens of philadelphia were named as trustees. in the choice of these, and in the formation of his plan, franklin is said to have consulted chiefly with thomas hopkinson, esq; the rev. richard peters, then secretary of the province, tench francis, esq. attorney-general, and dr. phineas bond. the following article shews a spirit of benevolence worthy of imitation; and, for the honour of our city, we hope that it continues to be in force. "in case of the disability of the _rector_, or any master (established on the foundation by receiving a certain salary) through sickness, or any other natural infirmity, whereby he may be reduced to poverty, the trustees shall have power to contribute to his support, in proportion to his distress and merit, and the stock in their hands." the last clause of the fundamental rules is expressed in language so tender and benevolent, so truly parental, that it will do everlasting honour to the hearts and heads of the founders. "it is hoped and expected that the trustees will make it their pleasure, and in some degree their business, to visit the academy often; to encourage and countenance the youth, to countenance and assist the masters, and, by all means in their power, advance the usefulness and reputation of the design; that they will look on the students as, in some measure, their own children, treat them with familiarity and affection; and when they have behaved well, gone through their studies, and are to enter the world, they shall zealously unite, and make all the interest that can be made to promote and establish them, whether in business, offices, marriages, or any other thing for their advantage, in preference to all other persons whatsoever, even of equal merit." the constitutions being signed and made public, with the names of the gentlemen proposing themselves as trustees and founders, the design was so well approved of by the public-spirited citizens of philadelphia, that the sum of eight hundred pounds per annum, for five years, was in the course of a few weeks subscribed for carrying it into execution; and in the beginning of january following (viz. ) three of the schools were opened, namely, the latin and greek schools, the mathematical school, and the english school. in pursuance of an article in the original plan, a school for educating sixty boys and thirty girls (in the charter since called the charitable school) was opened; and amidst all the difficulties with which the trustees have struggled in respect to their funds, has still been continued full for the space of forty years; so that allowing three years education for each boy and girl admitted into it, which is the general rule, at least twelve hundred children have received in it the chief part of their education, who might otherwise, in a great measure, have been left without the means of instruction. and many of those who have been thus educated, are now to be found among the most useful and reputable citizens of this state. the institution, thus successfully begun, continued daily to flourish, to the great satisfaction of dr. franklin; who, notwithstanding the multiplicity of his other engagements and pursuits, at that busy stage of his life, was a constant attendant at the monthly visitations and examinations of the schools, and made it his particular study, by means of his extensive correspondence abroad, to advance the reputation of the seminary, and to draw students and scholars to it from different parts of america and the west indies. through the interposition of his benevolent and learned friend, peter collinson, of london, upon the application of the trustees, a charter of incorporation, dated july , , was obtained from the honourable proprietors of pennsylvania, thomas penn and richard penn, esqrs. accompanied with a liberal benefaction of five hundred pounds sterling; and dr. franklin now began in good earnest to please himself with the hopes of a speedy accomplishment of his original design, viz. the establishment of a perfect institution, upon the plan of the european colleges and universities; for which his academy was intended as a nursery or foundation. to elucidate this fact, is a matter of considerable importance in respect to the memory and character of dr. franklin as a philosopher, and as the friend and patron of learning and science; for, notwithstanding what is expressly declared by him in the preamble to the constitutions, viz. that the academy was begun for "teaching the latin and greek languages, with all useful branches of the arts and sciences, suitable to the state of an infant country, and laying a foundation for posterity to erect a seminary of learning more extensive, and suitable to their future circumstances;" yet it has been suggested of late, as upon dr. franklin's authority, that the latin and greek, or the dead languages, are an incumbrance upon a scheme of liberal education, and that the engrafting or founding a college, or more extensive seminary, upon his academy, was without his approbation or agency, and gave him discontent. if the reverse of this does not already appear from what has been quoted above, the following letters will put the matter beyond dispute. they were written by him to a gentleman, who had at that time published the idea of a college, suited to the circumstances of a young country (meaning new-york) a copy of which having been sent to dr. franklin for his opinion, gave rise to that correspondence which terminated about a year afterwards, in erecting the college upon the foundation of the academy, and establishing that gentleman at the head of both, where he still continues, after a period of thirty-six years, to preside with distinguished reputation. from these letters also, the state of the academy, at that time, will be, seen. footnotes: [ ] as a proof that franklin was anciently the common name of an order or rank in england, see judge fortesque, _de laudibus legum angliæ_, written about the year , in which is the following passage, to shew that good juries might easily be formed in any part of england: "regio etiam ilia, ita respersa refertaque est _posessoribus terrarum_ et agrorum, quod in ea, villula tam parva reperiri non poterit, in qua non est _miles_, _armiger_, vel pater-familias, qualis ibidem _franklin_ vulgariter nuncupatur, magnis ditatus possessionibus, nec non libere tenentes et alii _valecti_ plurimi, suis patrimoniis sufficientes, ad faciendum juratam, in forma prænotata." "moreover, the same country is so filled and replenished with landed menne, that therein so small a thorpe cannot be found wherein dwelleth not a knight, an esquire, or such a householder as is there commonly called a _franklin_, enriched with great possessions; and also other freeholders and many yeomen, able for their livelihoods to make a jury in form aforementioned." old translation. chaucer too, calls his country gentleman a _franklin_; and, after describing his good housekeeping, thus characterizes him: this worthy franklin bore a purse of silk fix'd to his girdle, white as morning milk; knight of the shire, first justice at th' assize, to help the poor, the doubtful to advise. in all employments, generous, just he prov'd, renown'd for courtesy, by all belov'd. [ ] town in the island of nantucket. [ ] probably the dunciad, where we find him thus immortalized by the author: silence, ye wolves, while ralph to cynthia howls, and makes night hideous--answer him, ye owls! [ ] printing houses in general are thus denominated by the workmen: the _spirit_ they call by the name of _ralph_. [ ] a manuscript note in the file of the american mercury, preserved in the philadelphia library, says, that franklin wrote the five first numbers, and part of the eighth. [ ] dr. stuber was born in philadelphia, of german parents. he was sent, at an early age, to the university, where his genius, diligence and amiable temper, soon acquired him the particular notice and favour of those under whose immediate direction he was placed. after passing through the common course of study, in a much shorter time than usual, he left the university, at the age of sixteen, with great reputation. not long after, he entered on the study of physic; and the zeal with which he pursued it, and the advances he made, gave his friends reason to form the most flattering prospects of his future eminence and usefulness in the profession. as dr. stuber's circumstances were very moderate, he did not think this pursuit well calculated to improve them. he therefore relinquished it, after he had obtained a degree in the profession, and qualified himself to practise with credit and success; and immediately entered on the study of the law. while in pursuit of the last mentioned object, he was prevented by a premature death from reaping the fruit of those talents with which he was endowed, and of a youth spent in the ardent and successful pursuit of useful and elegant literature. "_philad. april th, ._ "sir, "i received your favour of the th instant, with your new[ ] piece on _education_, which i shall carefully peruse, and give you my sentiments of it, as you desire, by next post. "i believe the young gentlemen, your pupils, may be entertained and instructed here, in mathematics and philosophy, to satisfaction. mr. alison[ ] (who was educated at glasgow) has been long accustomed to teach the latter, and mr. grew[ ] the former; and i think their pupils make great progress. mr. alison has the care of the latin and greek school, but as he has now three good assistants,[ ] he can very well afford some hours every day for the instruction of those who are engaged in higher studies. the mathematical school is pretty well furnished with instruments. the english library is a good one; and we have belonging to it a middling apparatus for experimental philosophy, and propose speedily to complete it. the loganian library, one of the best collections in america, will shortly be opened; so that neither books nor instruments will be wanting; and as we are determined always to give good salaries, we have reason to believe we may have always an opportunity of choosing good masters; upon which indeed, the success of the whole depends. we are obliged to you for your kind offers in this respect, and when you are settled in england, we may occasionally make use of your friendship and judgment.-- "if it suits your conveniency to visit philadelphia before you return to europe, i shall be extremely glad to see and converse with you here, as well as to correspond with you after your settlement in england; for an acquaintance and communication with men of learning, virtue, and public spirit, is one of my greatest enjoyments. "i do not know whether you ever happened to see the first proposals i made for erecting this academy. i send them inclosed. they had (however imperfect) the desired success, being followed by a subscription of four thousand pounds, towards carrying them into execution. and as we are fond of receiving advice, and are daily improving by experience, i am in hopes we shall, in a few years, see a _perfect institution_. "i am, very respectfully, &c. "b. franklin. "_mr. w. smith, long-island._" footnotes: [ ] a general idea of the college of mirania. [ ] the rev. and learned mr. francis alison, afterwards d. d. and vice-provost of the college. [ ] mr. theophilus grew, afterwards professor of mathematics in the college. [ ] those assistants were at that time mr. charles thomson, late secretary to congress, mr. paul jackson, and mr. jacob duche. "_philad. may d, ._ "sir, "mr. peters has just now been with me, and we have compared notes on your new piece. we find nothing in the scheme of education, however excellent, but what is, in our opinion, very practicable. the great difficulty will be to find the aratus[ ], and other suitable persons, to carry it into execution; but such may be had if proper encouragement be given. we have both received great pleasure in the perusal of it. for my part, i know not when i have read a piece that has more affected me--so noble and just are the sentiments, so warm and animated the language; yet as censure from your friends may be of more use, as well as more agreeable to you than praise, i ought to mention, that i wish you had omitted not only the quotation from the review[ ], which you are now justly dissatisfied with, but those expressions of resentment against your adversaries, in pages and . in such cases, the noblest victory is obtained by neglect, and by shining on. "mr. allen has been out of town these ten days; but before he went he directed me to procure him six copies of your piece. mr. peters has taken ten. he proposed to have written to you; but omits it, as he expects so soon to have the pleasure of seeing you here. he desires me to present his affectionate compliments to you, and to assure you that you will be very welcome to him. i shall only say, that you may depend on my doing all in my power to make your visit to philadelphia agreeable to you. "i am, &c. "b. franklin. "_mr. smith._" footnotes: [ ] the name given to the principal or head of the ideal college, the system of education in which hath nevertheless been nearly realized, or followed as a model, in the college and academy of philadelphia, and some other american seminaries, for many years past. [ ] the quotation alluded to (from the london monthly review for ,) was judged to reflect too severely on the discipline and government of the english universities of oxford and cambridge, and was expunged from the following editions of this work. "_philad. nov. th, ._ "dear sir, "having written you fully, _via_ bristol, i have now little to add. matters relating to the academy remain in _statu quo_. the trustees would be glad to see a rector established there, but they dread entering into new engagements till they are got out of debt; and i have not yet got them wholly over to my opinion, that a good professor, or teacher of the higher branches of learning, would draw so many scholars as to pay great part, if not the whole of his salary. thus, unless the proprietors (of the province) shall think fit to put the finishing hand to our institution, it must, i fear, wait some few years longer before it can arrive at that state of perfection, which to me it seems now capable of; and all the pleasure i promised myself in seeing you settled among us, vanishes into smoke. "but good mr. collinson writes me word, that no endeavours of his shall be wanting; and he hopes, with the archbishop's assistance, to be able to prevail with our proprietors[ ]. i pray god grant them success. "my son presents his affectionate regards, with, dear sir, "your's, &c. "b. franklin. "p. s. i have not been favoured with a line from you since your arrival in england." footnote: [ ] upon the application of archbishop herring and p. collinson, esq. at dr. franklin's request, (aided by the letters of mr. allen and mr. peters,) the hon. thomas penn, esq. subscribed an annual sum, and afterwards gave at least _l._ to the founding or engrafting the college upon the academy. "_philad. april th, ._ "dear sir, "i have had but one letter from you since your arrival in england, which was but a short one, _via_ boston, dated october th, acquainting me that you had written largely by captain davis.--davis was lost, and with him your letters, to my great disappointment.--mesnard and gibbon have since arrived here, and i hear nothing from you. my comfort is, an imagination that you only omit writing because you are coming, and propose to tell me every thing _viva voce_. so not knowing whether this letter will reach you, and hoping either to see or hear from you by the myrtilla, captain budden's ship, which is daily expected, i only add, that i am, with great esteem and affection "your's, &c. "b. franklin. "_mr. smith._" about a month after the date of this last letter, the gentleman to whom it was addressed arrived in philadelphia, and was immediately placed at the head of the seminary; whereby dr. franklin and the other trustees were enabled to prosecute their plan, for perfecting the institution, and opening the college upon the large and liberal foundation on which it now stands; for which purpose they obtained their additional charter, dated may th, . thus far we thought it proper to exhibit in one view dr. franklin's services in the foundation and establishment of this seminary. he soon afterwards embarked for england, in the public service of his country; and having been generally employed abroad, in the like service, for the greatest part of the remainder of his life, (as will appear in our subsequent account of the same) he had but few opportunities of taking any further active part in the affairs of the seminary, until his final return in the year , when he found its charters violated, and his ancient colleagues, the original founders, deprived of their trust, by an act of the legislature; and although his own name had been inserted amongst the new trustees, yet he declined to take his seat among them, or any concern in the management of their affairs, till the institution was restored by law to its original owners. he then assembled his old colleagues at his own house, and being chosen their president, all their future meetings were, at his request, held there, till within a few months of his death, when with reluctance, and at their desire, lest he might be too much injured by his attention to their business, he suffered them to meet at the college. franklin not only gave birth to many useful institutions himself, but he was also instrumental in promoting those which had originated with other men. about the year , an eminent physician of this city, dr. bond, considering the deplorable state of the poor when visited with disease, conceived the idea of establishing an hospital. notwithstanding very great exertions on his part, he was able to interest few people so far in his benevolent plan, as to obtain subscriptions from them. unwilling that his scheme should prove abortive, he sought the aid of franklin, who readily engaged in the business, both by using his influence with his friends, and by stating the advantageous influence of the proposed institution in his paper. these efforts were attended with success. considerable sums were subscribed; but they were still short of what was necessary. franklin now made another exertion. he applied to the assembly; and, after some opposition, obtained leave to bring in a bill, specifying, that as soon as two thousand pounds were subscribed, the same sum should be drawn from the treasury by the speaker's warrant, to be applied to the purposes of the institution. the opposition, as the sum was granted upon a contingency which they supposed would never take place, were silent, and the bill passed. the friends of the plan now redoubled their efforts, to obtain subscriptions to the amount stated in the bill, and were soon successful. this was the foundation of the pennsylvanian hospital, which, with the bettering-house, and dispensary, bears ample testimony of the humanity of the citizens of philadelphia. dr. franklin had conducted himself so well in the office of post-master, and had shown himself to be so well acquainted with the business of that department, that it was thought expedient to raise him to a more dignified station. in he was appointed deputy post-master general for the british colonies. the profits arising from the postage of letters formed no inconsiderable part of the revenue, which the crown of great britain derived from these colonies. in the hands of franklin, it is said, that the post-office in america, yielded annually thrice as much as that of ireland. the american colonies were much exposed to depredations on their frontiers, by the indians; and more particularly whenever a war took place between france and england. the colonies, individually, were either too weak to take efficient measures for their own defence, or they were unwilling to take upon themselves the whole burden of erecting forts and maintaining garrisons, whilst their neighbours, who partook equally with themselves of the advantages, contributed nothing to the expence. sometimes also the disputes, which subsisted between the governors and assemblies, prevented the adoption of means of defence; as we have seen was the case in pennsylvania in . to devise a plan of union between the colonies, to regulate this and other matters, appeared a desirable object. to accomplish this, in the year , commissioners from new hampshire, massachussets, rhode island, new jersey, pennsylvania, and maryland, met at albany. dr. franklin attended here, as a commissioner from pennsylvania, and produced a plan, which, from the place of meeting, has been usually termed, "the albany plan of union." this proposed, that application should be made for an act of parliament, to establish in the colonies a general government, to be administered by a president-general, appointed by the crown, and by a grand council, consisting of members, chosen by the representatives of the different colonies; their number to be in direct proportion to the sums paid by each colony into the general treasury, with this restriction, that no colony should have more than seven, nor less than two representatives. the whole executive authority was committed to the president-general. the power of legislation was lodged in the grand council and president-general jointly; his consent being made necessary to passing a bill into a law. the power vested in the president and council was, to declare war and peace, and to conclude treaties with the indian nations; to regulate trade with, and to make purchases of vacant lands from them, either in the name of the crown, or of the union; to settle new colonies, to make laws for governing these until they should be erected into separate governments; and to raise troops, build forts, and fit out armed vessels, and to use other means for the general defence; and, to effect these things, a power was given to make laws, laying such duties, imposts, or taxes, as they should find necessary, and as would be least burdensome to the people. all laws were to be sent to england for the king's approbation; and unless disapproved of within three years, were to remain in force. all officers in the land or sea service were to be nominated by the president-general, and approved of by the general council; civil officers were to be nominated by the council, and approved of by the president. such are the outlines of the plan proposed, for the consideration of the congress, by dr. franklin. after several days' discussion, it was unanimously agreed to by the commissioners, a copy transmitted to each assembly, and one to the king's council. the fate of it was singular. it was disapproved of by the ministry of great britain, because it gave too much power to the representatives of the people; and it was rejected by every assembly, as giving to the president-general, the representative of the crown, an influence greater than appeared to them proper, in a plan of government intended for freemen. perhaps this rejection, on both sides, is the strongest proof that could be adduced of the excellence of it, as suited to the situation of america and great britain at that time. it appears to have steered exactly in the middle between the opposite interests of both. whether the adoption of this plan would have prevented the separation of america from great britain, is a question which might afford much room for speculation. it may be said, that, by enabling the colonies to defend themselves, it would have removed the pretext upon which the stamp-act, tea-act, and other acts of the british parliament, were passed; which excited a spirit of opposition, and laid the foundation for the separation of the two countries. but, on the other hand, it must be admitted, that the restriction laid by great britain upon our commerce, obliging us to sell our produce to her citizens only, and to take from them various articles, of which, as our manufactures were discouraged, we stood in need, at a price greater than that for which they could have been obtained from other nations, must inevitably produce dissatisfaction, even though no duties were imposed by the parliament; a circumstance which might still have taken place. besides, as the president-general was to be appointed by the crown, he must, of necessity, be devoted to its views, and would, therefore, refuse his assent to any laws, however salutary to the community, which had the most remote tendency to injure the interests of his sovereign. even should they receive his assent, the approbation of the king was to be necessary; who would indubitably, in every instance, prefer the advantage of his home dominions to that of his colonies. hence would ensue perpetual disagreements between the council and the president-general, and thus, between the people of america and the crown of great britain:--while the colonies continued weak, they would be obliged to submit, and as soon as they acquired strength they would become more urgent in their demands, until, at length, they would shake off the yoke, and declare themselves independent. whilst the french were in possession of canada, their trade with the natives extended very far; even to the back of the british settlements. they were disposed, from time to time, to establish posts within the territory, which the english claimed as their own. independent of the injury to the fur trade, which was considerable, the colonies suffered this further inconvenience, that the indians were frequently instigated to commit depredations on their frontiers. in the year , encroachments were made upon the boundaries of virginia. remonstrances had no effect. in the ensuing year, a body of men were sent out under the command of mr. washington, who, though a very young man, had, by his conduct in the preceding year, shewn himself worthy of such an important trust. whilst marching to take possession of the post at the junction of the allegany and monongahela, he was informed that the french had already erected a fort there. a detachment of their men marched against him. he fortified himself as strongly as time and circumstances would admit. a superiority of numbers soon obliged him to surrender _fort necessity_. he obtained honourable terms for himself and men, and returned to virginia. the government of great britain now thought it necessary to interfere. in the year , general braddock, with some regiments of regular troops, and provincial levies, was sent to dispossess the french of the posts upon which they had seized. after the men were all ready, a difficulty occurred, which had nearly prevented the expedition. this was the want of waggons. franklin now stepped forward, and with the assistance of his son, in a little time procured a hundred and fifty. braddock unfortunately fell into an ambuscade, and perished, with a number of his men. washington, who had accompanied him as an aid-de-camp, and had warned him, in vain, of his danger, now displayed great military talents in effecting a retreat of the remains of the army, and in forming a junction with the rear, under colonel dunbar, upon whom the chief command now devolved. with some difficulty they brought their little body to a place of safety; but they found it necessary to destroy their waggons and baggage, to prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. for the waggons which he had furnished, franklin had given bonds to a large amount. the owners declared their intention of obliging him to make a restitution of their property. had they put their threats in execution, ruin must inevitably have been the consequence. governor shirley, finding that he had incurred these debts for the service of government, made arrangements to have them discharged, and released franklin from his disagreeable situation. the alarm spread through the colonies, after the defeat of braddock, was very great. preparations to arm were every where made. in pennsylvania, the prevalence of the quaker interest prevented the adoption of any system of defence, which would compel the citizens to bear arms. franklin introduced into the assembly a bill for organizing a militia, by which every man was allowed to take arms or not, as to him should appear fit. the quakers, being thus left at liberty, suffered the bill to pass; for although their principles would not suffer them to fight, they had no objection to their neighbours fighting for them. in consequence of this act a very respectable militia was formed. the sense of impending danger infused a military spirit in all, whose religious tenets were not opposed to war. franklin was appointed colonel of a regiment in philadelphia, which consisted of men. the north-western frontier being invaded by the enemy, it became necessary to adopt measures for its defence. franklin was directed by the governor to take charge of this. a power of raising men, and of appointing officers to command them, was vested in him. he soon levied a body of troops, with which he repaired to the place at which their presence was necessary. here he built a fort, and placed a garrison in such a posture of defence, as would enable them to withstand the inroads, to which the inhabitants had previously been exposed. he remained here for some time, in order the more completely to discharge the trust committed to him. some business of importance at length rendered his presence necessary in the assembly, and he returned to philadelphia. the defence of her colonies was a great expence to great britain. the most effectual mode of lessening this was, to put arms into the hands of the inhabitants, and to teach them their use. but england wished not that the americans should become acquainted with their own strength. she was apprehensive, that, as soon as this period arrived, they would no longer submit to that monopoly of their trade, which to them was highly injurious, but extremely advantageous to the mother-country. in comparison with the profits of this, the expence of maintaining armies and fleets to defend them was trifling. she fought to keep them dependent upon her for protection; the best plan which could be devised for retaining them in peaceable subjection. the least appearance of a military spirit was therefore to be guarded against, and, although a war then raged, the act for organizing a militia was disapproved of by the ministry. the regiments which had been formed under it were disbanded, and the defence of the province entrusted to regular troops. the disputes between the proprietaries and the people continued in full force, although a war was raging on the frontiers. not even the sense of danger was sufficient to reconcile, for ever so short a time, their jarring interests. the assembly still insisted upon the justice of taxing the proprietary estates, but the governors constantly refused their assent to this measure, without which no bill could pass into a law. enraged at the obstinacy, and what they conceived to be unjust proceedings of their opponents, the assembly at length determined to apply to the mother-country for relief. a petition was addressed to the king, in council, stating the inconveniencies under which the inhabitants laboured, from the attention of the proprietaries to their private interests, to the neglect of the general welfare of the community, and praying for redress. franklin was appointed to present this address, as agent for the province of pennsylvania, and departed from america in june, . in conformity to the instructions which he had received from the legislature, he held a conference with the proprietaries who then resided in england, and endeavoured to prevail upon them to give up the long contested point. finding that they would harken to no terms of accommodation, he laid his petition before the council. during this time governor denny assented to a law imposing a tax, in which no discrimination was made in favour of the estates of the penn family. they, alarmed at this intelligence, and franklin's exertions, used their utmost endeavours to prevent the royal sanction being given to this law, which they represented as highly iniquitous, designed to throw the burden of supporting government upon them, and calculated to produce the most ruinous consequences to them and their posterity. the cause was amply discussed before the privy council. the penns found here some strenuous advocates; nor were there wanting some who warmly espoused the side of the people. after some time spent in debate, a proposal was made, that franklin should solemnly engage, that the assessment of the tax should be so made, as that the proprietary estates should pay no more than a due proportion. this he agreed to perform; the penn family withdrew their opposition, and tranquillity was thus once more restored to the province. the mode in which this dispute was terminated is a striking proof of the high opinion entertained of franklin's integrity and honour, even by those who considered him as inimical to their views. nor was their confidence ill-founded. the assessment was made upon the strictest principles of equity; and the proprietary estates bore only a proportionable share of the expences of supporting government. after the completion of this important business, franklin remained at the court of great britain, as agent for the province of pennsylvania. the extensive knowledge which he possessed of the situation of the colonies, and the regard which he always manifested for their interests, occasioned his appointment to the same office by the colonies of massachussets, maryland, and georgia. his conduct, in this situation, was such as rendered him still more dear to his countrymen. he had now an opportunity of indulging in the society of those friends, whom his merits had procured him while at a distance. the regard which they had entertained for him was rather increased by a personal acquaintance. the opposition which had been made to his discoveries in philosophy gradually ceased, and the rewards of literary merit were abundantly conferred upon him. the royal society of london, which had at first refused his performances admission into its transactions, now thought it an honour to rank him amongst its fellows. other societies of europe were equally ambitious of calling him a member. the university of st. andrew's, in scotland, conferred upon him the degree of doctor of laws. its example was followed by the universities of edinburgh and oxford. his correspondence was sought for by the most eminent philosophers of europe. his letters to these abound with true science, delivered in the most simple unadorned manner. the province of canada was at this time in the possession of the french, who had originally settled it. the trade with the indians, for which its situation was very convenient, was exceedingly lucrative. the french traders here found a market for their commodities, and received in return large quantities of rich furs, which they disposed of at a high price in europe. whilst the possession of this country was highly advantageous to france, it was a grievous inconvenience to the inhabitants of the british colonies. the indians were almost generally desirous to cultivate the friendship of the french, by whom they were abundantly supplied with arms and ammunition. whenever a war happened, the indians were ready to fall upon the frontiers: and this they frequently did, even when great britain and france were at peace. from these considerations, it appeared to be the interest of great britain to gain the possession of canada. but the importance of such an acquisition was not well understood in england. franklin about this time published his canada pamphlet, in which he, in a forcible manner, pointed out the advantages which would result from the conquest of this province. an expedition against it was planned, and the command given to general wolfe. his success is well known. at the treaty in , france ceded canada to great britain, and by her cession of louisiana, at the same time, relinquished all her possessions on the continent of america. although dr. franklin was now principally occupied with political pursuits, he found time for philosophical studies. he extended his researches in electricity, and made a variety of experiments, particularly on the tourmalin. the singular properties which this stone possesses of being electrified on one side positively and on the other negatively, by heat alone, without friction, had been but lately observed. some experiments on the cold produced by evaporation, made by dr. cullen, had been communicated to dr. franklin, by professor simpson, of glasgow. these he repeated, and found, that, by the evaporation of æther in the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, so great a degree of cold was produced in a summer's day, that water was converted into ice. this discovery he applied to the solution of a number of phenomena, particularly a singular fact, which philosophers had endeavoured in vain to account for, viz. that the temperature of the human body, when in health, never exceeds degrees of fahrenheit's thermometer, though the atmosphere which surrounds it may be heated to a much greater degree. this he attributed to the increased perspiration, and consequent evaporation, produced by the heat. in a letter to mr. small, of london, dated in may, , dr. franklin makes a number of observations, tending to show that, in north america, north-east storms begin in the south-west parts. it appears, from actual observations, that a north-east storm, which extended a considerable distance, commenced at philadelphia near four hours before it was felt at boston. he endeavoured to account for this, by supposing that, from heat, some rarefaction takes place about the gulph of mexico, that the air further north rushes in, and is succeeded by the cooler and denser air still farther north, and that thus a continual current is at length produced. the tone produced by rubbing the brim of a drinking-glass with a wet finger, had been generally known. a mr. puckeridge, an irishman, by placing on a table a number of glasses of different sizes, and tuning them by partly filling them with water, endeavoured to form an instrument capable of playing tunes. he was prevented by an untimely end, from bringing his invention to any degree of perfection. after his death some improvements were made upon his plan. the sweetness of the tones induced dr. franklin to make a variety of experiments; and he at length formed that elegant instrument which he has called the _armonica_. in the summer of , he returned to america. on his passage he observed the singular effect produced by the agitation of a vessel, containing oil, floating on water. the surface of the oil remains smooth and undisturbed, whilst the water is agitated with the utmost commotion. no satisfactory explanation of this appearance has, we believe, ever been given. dr. franklin received the thanks of the assembly of pennsylvania, "as well for the faithful discharge of his duty to that province in particular, as for the many and important services done to america in general, during his residence in great britain." a compensation of _l._, pennsylvania currency, was also decreed him for his services during six years. during his absence he had been annually elected member of the assembly. on his return to pennsylvania he again took his seat in this body, and continued a steady defender of the liberties of the people. in december , a circumstance which caused great alarm in the province took place. a number of indians had resided in the county of lancaster, and conducted themselves uniformly as friends to the white inhabitants. repeated depredations on the frontiers had exasperated the inhabitants to such a degree, that they determined on revenge upon every indian. a number of persons, to the number of about , principally inhabitants of donegal and peckstang or paxton township, in the county of york, assembled; and, mounted on horseback, proceeded to the settlement of these harmless and defenceless indians, whose number had now been reduced to about twenty. the indians had received intelligence of the attack which was intended against them, but disbelieved it. considering the white people as their friends, they apprehended no danger from them. when the party arrived at the indian settlement, they found only some women and children, and a few old men, the rest being absent at work. they murdered all whom they found, and amongst others the chief shaheas, who had been always distinguished for his friendship to the whites. this bloody deed excited much indignation in the well-disposed part of the community. the remainder of these unfortunate indians, who by absence, had escaped the massacre, were conducted to lancaster, and lodged in the gaol as a place of security. the governor issued a proclamation expressing the strongest disapprobation of the action, offering a reward for the discovery of the perpetrators of the deed, and prohibiting all injuries to the peaceable indians in future. but, notwithstanding this, a party of the same men shortly after marched to lancaster, broke open the gaol, and inhumanly butchered the innocent indians, who had been placed there for security. another proclamation was issued, but it had no effect. a detachment marched down to philadelphia, for the express purpose of murdering some friendly indians, who had been removed to the city for safety. a number of the citizens armed in their defence. the quakers, whose principles are opposed to fighting, even in their own defence, were most active upon this occasion. the rioters came to germantown. the governor fled for safety to the house of dr. franklin, who, with some others, advanced to meet the paxton boys, as they were called, and had influence enough to prevail upon them to relinquish their undertaking, and return to their homes. the disputes between the proprietaries and the assembly, which, for a time, had subsided, were again revived. the proprietaries were dissatisfied with the concessions made in favour of the people, and made great struggles to recover the privilege of exempting their estates from taxation, which they had been induced to give up. in , the assembly passed a militia-bill, to which the governor refused to give his assent, unless the assembly would agree to certain amendments which he proposed. these consisted in increasing the fines, and in some cases, substituting death for fines. he wished too, that the officers should be appointed altogether by himself, and not be nominated by the people, as the bill had proposed. these amendments the assembly considered as inconsistent with the spirit of liberty. they would not adopt them--the governor was obstinate, and the bill was lost. these, and various other circumstances, encreased the uneasiness which subsisted between the proprietaries and the assembly, to such a degree, that, in , a petition to the king was agreed to by the house, praying an alteration from a _proprietary_ to a _regal_ government. great opposition was made to this measure, not only in the house, but in the public prints. a speech of mr. dickenson on the subject was published, with a preface by dr. smith, in which great pains were taken to show the impropriety and impolicy of this proceeding. a speech of mr. galloway, in reply to mr. dickenson, was published, accompanied with a preface by dr. franklin, in which he ably opposed the principles laid down in the preface to mr. dickenson's speech. this application to the throne produced no effect. the proprietary government was still continued. at the election of a new assembly, in the fall of , the friends of the proprietaries made great exertions to exclude those of the adverse party; and they obtained a small majority in the city of philadelphia. franklin now lost his seat in the house, which he had held for fourteen years. on the meeting of the assembly, it appeared there was still a decided majority of franklin's friends. he was immediately appointed provincial agent, to the great chagrin of his enemies, who made a solemn protest against his appointment, which was refused admission upon the minutes, as being unprecedented. it was, however, published in the papers, and produced a spirited reply from him, just before his departure for england. the disturbances produced in america by mr. grenville's stamp-act, and the opposition made to it, are well known. under the marquis of rockingham's administration, it appeared expedient to endeavour to calm the minds of the colonists; and the repeal of the odious tax was contemplated. amongst other means of collecting information on the disposition of the people to submit to it, dr. franklin was called to the bar of the house of commons. the examination which he underwent was published, and contains a striking account of the extent and accuracy of his information, and the facility with which he communicated his sentiments. he represented facts in so strong a point of view, that the inexpediency of the act must have appeared clear to every unprejudiced mind. the act, after some opposition, was repealed, about a year after it was enacted, and before it had ever been carried into execution. in the year , he made a visit to holland and germany, and received the greatest marks of attention from men of science. in his passage through holland he learned from the watermen the effect which a diminution of the quantity of water in canals has, in impeding the progress of boats. upon his return to england, he was led to make a number of experiments, all of which tended to confirm the observation. these, with an explanation of the phenomenon, he communicated in a letter to his friend, sir john pringle, which will be found among his philosophical pieces. in the following year he travelled into france, where he met a no less favorable reception than he had experienced in germany. he was introduced to a number of literary characters, and to the king, louis xv. several letters written by hutchinson, oliver, and others, to persons in eminent stations in great britain, came into the hands of dr. franklin. these contained the most violent invectives against the leading characters of the state of massachussets, and strenuously advised the prosecution of vigorous measures, to compel the people to obedience to the measures of the ministry. these he transmitted to the legislature, by whom they were published. attested copies of them were sent to great britain, with an address, praying the king to discharge from office persons who had rendered themselves so obnoxious to the people, and who had shown themselves so unfriendly to their interests. the publication of these letters produced a duel between mr. whately and mr. temple, each of whom was suspected of having been instrumental in procuring them. to prevent any farther disputes on this subject, dr. franklin, in one of the public papers, declared that he had sent them to america, but would give no information concerning the manner in which he had obtained them--nor was this ever discovered. shortly after, the petition of the massachussets assembly was taken up for examination, before the privy council. dr. franklin attended, as agent for the assembly; and here a torrent of the most violent and unwarranted abuse was poured upon him by the solicitor-general, wedderburne, who was engaged as council for oliver and hutchinson. the petition was declared to be scandalous and vexatious, and the prayer of it refused. although the parliament of great britain had repealed the stamp-act, it was only upon the principle of expediency. they still insisted upon their right to tax the colonies; and, at the same time that the stamp-act was repealed, an act was passed, declaring the right of parliament to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever. this language was used even by the most strenuous opposers of the stamp-act: and, amongst others, by mr. pitt. this right was never recognized by the colonists; but, as they flattered themselves that it would not be exercised, they were not very active in remonstrating against it. had this pretended right been suffered to remain dormant, the colonists would cheerfully have furnished their quota of supplies, in the mode to which they had been accustomed; that is, by acts of their own assemblies, in consequence of requisitions from the secretary of state. if this practice had been pursued, such was the disposition of the colonies towards their mother-country, that, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which they laboured, from restraints upon their trade, calculated solely for the benefit of the commercial and manufacturing interests of great britain, a separation of the two countries might have been a far distant event. the americans, from their earliest infancy, were taught to venerate a people from whom they were descended; whose language, laws, and manners, were the same as their own. they looked up to them as models of perfection; and, in their prejudiced minds, the most enlightened nations of europe were considered as almost barbarians, in comparison with englishmen. the name of an englishman conveyed to an american the idea of every thing good and great. such sentiments instilled into them in early life, what but a repetition of unjust treatment could have induced them to entertain the most distant thought of separation! the duties on glass, paper, leather, painters' colours, tea, &c. the disfranchisement of some of the colonies; the obstruction to the measures of the legislature in others, by the king's governors; the contemptuous treatment of their humble remonstrances, stating their grievances, and praying a redress of them, and other violent and oppressive measures, at length excited an ardent spirit of opposition. instead of endeavouring to allay this by a more lenient conduct, the ministry seemed resolutely bent upon reducing the colonies to the most slavish obedience to their decrees. but this only tended to aggravate. vain were all the efforts made use of to prevail upon them to lay aside their designs, to convince them of the impossibility of carrying them into effect, and of the mischievous consequences which must ensue from a continuance of the attempts. they persevered, with a degree of inflexibility scarcely paralleled. the advantages which great britain derived from her colonies were so great, that nothing but a degree of infatuation, little short of madness, could have produced a continuance of measures calculated to keep up a spirit of uneasiness, which might occasion the slightest wish for a separation. when we consider the great improvements in the science of government, the general diffusion of the principles of liberty amongst the people of europe, the effects which these have already produced in france, and the probable consequences which will result from them elsewhere, all of which are the offspring of the american revolution, it cannot but appear strange, that events of so great moment to the happiness of mankind, should have been ultimately occasioned by the wickedness or ignorance of a british ministry. dr. franklin left nothing untried to prevail upon the ministry to consent to a change of measures. in private conversations, and in letters to persons in government, he continually expatiated upon the impolicy and injustice of their conduct towards america; and stated, that, notwithstanding the attachment of the colonists to the mother-country, a repetition of ill treatment must ultimately alienate their affections. they listened not to his advice. they blindly persevered in their own schemes, and left to the colonists no alternative, but opposition, or unconditional submission. the latter accorded not with the principles of freedom, which they had been taught to revere. to the former they were compelled, though reluctantly, to have recourse. dr. franklin, finding all efforts to restore harmony between great britain and her colonies useless, returned to america in the year ; just after the commencement of hostilities. the day after his return he was elected by the legislature of pennsylvania a delegate to congress. not long after his election a committee was appointed, consisting of mr. lynch, mr. harrison, and himself, to visit the camp at cambridge, and, in conjunction with the commander in chief, to endeavour to convince the troops, whose term of enlistment was about to expire, of the necessity of their continuing in the field, and persevering in the cause of their country. in the fall of the same year he visited canada, to endeavour to unite them in the common cause of liberty; but they could not be prevailed upon to oppose the measures of the british government. m. le roy, in a letter annexed to abbé fauchet's eulogium of dr. franklin, states, that the ill success of this negociation was occasioned, in a great degree, by religious animosities, which subsisted between the canadians and their neighbours, some of whom had at different times burnt their chapels. when lord howe came to america, in , vested with power to treat with the colonists, a correspondence took place between him and dr. franklin, on the subject of a reconciliation. dr. franklin was afterwards appointed, together with john adams, and edward rutledge, to wait upon the commissioners, in order to learn the extent of their powers. these were found to be only to grant pardons upon submission. such terms which could not be accepted; and the object of the commissioners was not obtained. the momentous question of independence was shortly after brought into view, at a time when the fleets and armies, which were sent to enforce obedience, were truly formidable. with an army, numerous indeed, but ignorant of discipline, and entirely unskilled in the art of war, without money, without a fleet, without allies, and with nothing but the love of liberty to support them, the colonists determined to separate from a country, from which they had experienced a repetition of injury and insult. in this question, dr. franklin was decidedly in favour of the measure proposed, and had great influence in bringing others to his sentiments. the public mind had been prepared for this event, by mr. paine's celebrated pamphlet, _common sense_. there is good reason to believe that dr. franklin had no inconsiderable share, at least, in furnishing materials for this work. in the convention which assembled at philadelphia in , for the purpose of establishing a new form of government for the state of pennsylvania, dr. franklin was chosen president. the late constitution of this state, which was the result of their deliberations, may be considered as a digest of his principles of government. the single legislature, and the plural executive, seem to have been his favourite tenets. in the latter end of , dr. franklin was appointed to assist in the negociation which had been set on foot by silas deane at the court of france. a conviction of the advantages of a commercial intercourse with america, and a desire of weakening the british empire by dismembering it, first induced the french court to listen to proposals of an alliance. but they shewed rather a reluctance to the measure, which, by dr. franklin's address, and particularly by the success of the american arms against general burgoyne, was at length overcome; and in february, , a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, was concluded; in consequence of which france became involved in the war with great britain. perhaps no person could have been found more capable of rendering essential services to the united states at the court of france, than dr. franklin. he was well known as a philosopher, and his character was held in the highest estimation. he was received with the greatest marks of respect by all the literary characters; and this respect was extended amongst all classes of men. his personal influence was hence very considerable. to the effects of this were added those of various performances which he published, tending to establish the credit and character of the united states. to his exertions in this way, may, in no small degree, be ascribed the success of the loans negociated in holland and france, which greatly contributed to bring the war to a conclusion. the repeated ill success of their arms, and more particularly the capture of cornwallis and his army, at length convinced the british nation of the impossibility of reducing the americans to subjection. the trading interest particularly became clamorous for peace. the ministry were unable longer to oppose their wishes. provisional articles of peace were agreed to, and signed at paris on the th of november, , by dr. franklin, mr. adams, mr. jay, and mr. laurens, on the part of the united states; and by mr. oswald on the part of great britain. these formed the basis of the definitive treaty, which was concluded the d of september, , and signed by dr. franklin, mr. adams, and mr. jay, on the one part, and by mr. david hartly on the other. on the third of april, , a treaty of amity and commerce, between the united states and sweden, was concluded at paris, by dr. franklin and the count von krutz. a similar treaty with prussia was concluded in , not long before dr. franklin's departure from europe. dr. franklin did not suffer his political pursuits to engross his whole attention. some of his performances made their appearance in paris. the object of these was generally the promotion of industry and economy. in the year , when animal magnetism made great noise in the world, particularly at paris, it was thought a matter of such importance, that the king appointed commissioners to examine into the foundation of this pretended science. dr. franklin was one of the number. after a fair and diligent examination, in the course of which mesmer repeated a number of experiments, in the presence of the commissioners, some of which were tried upon themselves, they determined that it was a mere trick, intended to impose upon the ignorant and credulous--mesmer was thus interrupted in his career to wealth and fame, and a most insolent attempt to impose upon the human understanding baffled. the important ends of dr. franklin's mission being completed by the establishment of american independence, and the infirmities of age and disease coming upon him, he became desirous of returning to his native country. upon application to congress to be recalled, mr. jefferson was appointed to succeed him in . some time in september of the same year dr. franklin arrived in philadelphia. he was shortly after chosen member of the supreme executive council for the city; and soon after was elected president of the same. when a convention was called to meet in philadelphia, in , for the purpose of giving more energy to the government of the union, by revising and amending the articles of confederation, dr. franklin was appointed a delegate from the state of pennsylvania. he signed the constitution which they proposed for the union, and gave it the most unequivocal marks of his approbation. a society for political enquiries, of which dr. franklin was president, was established about this period. the meetings were held at his house. two or three essays read in this society were published. it did not long continue. in the year , two societies were established in philadelphia, founded on the principles of the most liberal and refined humanity--_the philadelphia society for alleviating the miseries of public prisons; and the pennsylvania society for promoting the abolition of slavery, the relief of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage, and the improvement of the condition of the african race._ of each of these dr. franklin was president. the labours of these bodies have been crowned with great success; and they continue to prosecute, with unwearied diligence, the laudable designs for which they were established. dr. franklin's increasing infirmities prevented his regular attendance at the council-chamber; and, in , he retired wholly from public life. his constitution had been a remarkably good one. he had been little subject to disease, except an attack of the gout occasionally, until about the year , when he was first attacked with symptoms of the calculous complaint, which continued during his life. during the intervals of pain from this grievous disease, he spent many cheerful hours, conversing in the most agreeable and instructive manner. his faculties were entirely unimpaired, even to the hour of his death. his name, as president of the abolition society, was signed to the memorial presented to the house of representatives of the united states, on the th of february, , praying them to exert the full extent of power vested in them by the constitution, in discouraging the traffic of the human species. this was his last public act. in the debates to which this memorial gave rise, several attempts were made to justify the trade. in the federal gazette of march th, there appeared an essay, signed historicus, written by dr. franklin, in which he communicated a speech, said to have been delivered in the divan of algiers, in , in opposition to the prayer of the petition of a sect called _erika_, or purists, for the abolition of piracy and slavery. this pretended african speech was an excellent parody of one delivered by mr. jackson, of georgia. all the arguments urged in favour of negro slavery, are applied with equal force to justify the plundering and enslaving of europeans. it affords, at the same time, a demonstration of the futility of the arguments in defence of the slave trade, and of the strength of mind and ingenuity of the author, at his advanced period of life. it furnished too, a no less convincing proof of his power of imitating the style of other times and nations, than his celebrated parable against persecution. and as the latter led many persons to search the scriptures with a view to find, it, so the former caused many persons to search the book-stores and libraries, for the work from which it was said to be extracted. in the beginning of april following, he was attacked with a fever and complaint of his breast, which terminated his existence. the following account of his last illness was written by his friend and physician, dr. jones. "the stone, with which he had been afflicted for several years, had for the last twelve months confined him chiefly to his bed; and during the extremely painful paroxysms, he was obliged to take large doses of laudanum to mitigate his tortures--still, in the intervals of pain, he not only amused himself with reading and conversing cheerfully with his family, and a few friends who visited him, but was often employed in doing business of a public as well as private nature, with various persons who waited on him for that purpose; and in every instance displayed, not only that readiness and disposition of doing good, which was the distinguishing characteristic of his life, but the fullest and clearest possession of his uncommon mental abilities; and not unfrequently indulged himself in those _jeux d'esprit_ and entertaining anecdotes, which were the delight of all who heard him. "about sixteen days before his death, he was seized with a feverish indisposition, without any particular symptoms attending it, till the third or fourth day, when he complained of a pain in the left breast, which increased till it became extremely acute, attended with a cough and laborious breathing. during this state, when the severity of his pains sometimes drew forth a groan of complaint, he would observe--that he was afraid he did not hear it as he ought--acknowledged his grateful sense of the many blessings he had received from the supreme being, who had raised him from small and low beginnings to such high rank and consideration among men--and made no doubt but his present afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from a world, in which he was no longer fit to act the part assigned him. in this frame of body and mind he continued till five days before his death, when his pain and difficulty of breathing entirely left him, and his family were flattering themselves with the hopes of his recovery, when an imposthumation, which had formed itself in his lungs, suddenly burst and discharged a great quantity of matter, which he continued to throw up while he had sufficient strength to do it, but, as that failed, the organs of respiration became gradually oppressed--a calm lethargic state succeeded--and, on the th of april, , about eleven o'clock at night, he quietly expired, closing a long and useful life of eighty-four years and three months." it may not be amiss to add to the above account, that dr. franklin, in the year , had a severe pleurisy, which terminated in an abscess of the left lobe of his lungs, and he was then almost suffocated with the quantity and suddenness of the discharge. a second attack of a similar nature happened some years after this, from which he soon recovered, and did not appear to suffer any inconvenience in his respiration from these diseases. the following epitaph on himself, was written by him many years previous to his death:-- the body of _benjamin franklin_, printer. (like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out, and stript of its lettering and gilding) lies here food for worms; yet the work itself shall not be lost, for it will (as he believed) appear once more in a new and more beautiful edition corrected and amended by the author.[ ] _extracts_ from the last will and testament of dr. franklin. with regard to my books, those i had in france, and those i left in philadelphia, being now assembled together here, and a catalogue made of them, it is my intention to dispose of the same as follows: my "history of the academy of sciences," in sixty or seventy volumes quarto, i give to the philosophical society of philadelphia, of which i have the honour to be president. my collection in folio of "_les arts et les metiers_," i give to the american philosophical society, established in new england, of which i am a member. my quarto edition of the same, "_arts et metiers_," i give to the library company of philadelphia. such and so many of my books as i shall mark, in the said catalogue, with the name of my grandson benjamin franklin bache, i do hereby give to him: and such and so many of my books, as i shall mark in the said catalogue with the name of my grandson william bache, i do hereby give to him: and such as shall be marked with the name of jonathan williams, i hereby give to my cousin of that name. the residue and remainder of all my books, manuscripts, and papers, i do give to my grandson william temple franklin. my share in the library company of philadelphia i give to my grandson benjamin franklin bache, confiding that he will permit his brothers and sisters to share in the use of it. i was born in boston, new england, and owe my first instructions in literature to the free grammar-schools established there. i therefore give one hundred pounds sterling to my executors, to be by them, the survivors or survivor of them, paid over to the managers or directors of the free-schools in my native town of boston, to be by them, or the person or persons who shall have the superintendance and management of the said schools, put out to interest, and so continued at interest for ever; which interest annually shall be laid out in silver medals, and given as honorary rewards annually by the directors of the said free-schools, for the encouragement of scholarship in the said schools, belonging to the said town, in such manner as to the discretion of the select men of the said town shall seem meet. out of the salary that may remain due to me, as president of the state, i give the sum of two thousand pounds to my executors, to be by them, the survivors or survivor of them, paid over to such person or persons as the legislature of this state, by an act of assembly, shall appoint to receive the same, in trust, to be employed for making the schuylkil navigable. during the number of years i was in business as a stationer, printer, and post-master, a great many small sums became due to me for books, advertisements, postage of letters, and other matters, which were not collected, when, in , i was sent by the assembly to england as their agent--and, by subsequent appointments, continued there till --when, on my return, i was immediately engaged in the affairs of congress, and sent to france in , where i remained nine years, not returning till ; and the said debts not being demanded in such a length of time, are become in a manner obsolete, yet are nevertheless justly due.--these as they are stated in my great folio ledger, e, i bequeath to the contributors of the pennsylvania hospital; hoping that those debtors, and the descendants of such as are deceased, who now, as i find, make some difficulty of satisfying such antiquated demands as just debts, may, however, be induced to pay or give them as charity to that excellent institution. i am sensible that much must inevitably be lost; but i hope something considerable may be recovered. it is possible too, that some of the parties charged may have existing old unsettled accounts against me: in which case the managers of the said hospital will allow and deduct the amount, or pay the balance, if they find it against me. i request my friends, henry hill, esq. john jay, esq. francis hopkinson, esq. and mr. edward duffield, of bonfield, in philadelphia county, to be the executors of this my last will and testament, and i hereby nominate and appoint them for that purpose. i would have my body buried with as little expence or ceremony as may be. philadelphia, july , . codicil. i benjamin franklin, in the foregoing or annexed last will and testament, having further considered the same, do think proper to make and publish the following codicil, in addition thereto. it having long been a fixed and political opinion of mine, that in a democratical state, there ought to be no offices of profit, for the reasons i had given in an article of my drawing in our constitution, it was my intention, when i accepted the office of president, to devote the appointed salary to some public use; accordingly i had already, before i made my last will in july last, given large sums of it to colleges, schools, building of churches, &c.; and in that will i bequeathed two thousand pounds more to the state, for the purpose of making the schuylkil navigable; but understanding since, that such a sum will do but little, towards accomplishing such a work, and that project is not likely to be undertaken for many years to come--and having entertained another idea, which i hope may be more extensively useful, i do hereby revoke and annul the bequest, and direct that the certificates i have of what remains due to me of that salary, be sold towards raising the sum of two thousand pounds sterling, to be disposed of as i am now about to order. it has been an opinion, that he who receives an estate from his ancestors, is under some obligation to transmit the same to posterity. this obligation lies not on me, who never inherited a shilling from any ancestor or relation. i shall, however, if it is not diminished by some accident before my death, leave a considerable estate among my descendants and relations. the above observation is made merely as some apology to my family, for my making bequests that do not appear to have any immediate relation to their advantage. i was born in boston, new england, and owe my first instructions in literature to the free grammar schools established there. i have, therefore, considered those schools in my will. but i am also under obligations to the state of massachussets, for having, unasked, appointed me formerly their agent, with a handsome salary, which continued some years; and although i accidentally lost in their service, by transmitting governor hutchinson's letters, much more than the amount of what they gave me, i do not think that ought in the least to diminish my gratitude. i have considered that, among artisans, good apprentices are most likely to make good citizens, and having myself been bred to a manual art, printing, in my native town, and afterwards assisted to set up my business in philadelphia by kind loans of money from two friends there, which was the foundation of my fortune, and of all the utility in life that may be ascribed to me--i wish to be useful even after my death, if possible, in forming and advancing other young men, that may be serviceable to their country in both these towns. to this end i devote two thousand pounds sterling, which i give, one thousand thereof to the inhabitants of the town of boston, in massachussets, and the other thousand to the inhabitants of the city of philadelphia, in trust, to and for the uses, intents, and purposes, herein after mentioned and declared. the said sum of one thousand pounds sterling, if accepted by the inhabitants of the town of boston, shall be managed under the direction of the select men, united with the ministers of the oldest episcopalian, congregational, and presbyterian churches in that town, who are to let out the same at five per cent. per annum, to such young married artificers, under the age of twenty-five years, as have served an apprenticeship in the said town, and faithfully fulfilled the duties required in their indentures, so as to obtain a good moral character from at least two respectable citizens, who are willing to become sureties in a bond, with the applicants, for the re-payment of the money so lent, with interest, according to the terms hereinafter prescribed; all which bonds are to be taken for spanish milled dollars, or the value thereof in current gold coin: and the manager shall keep a bound book, or books, wherein shall be entered the names of those who shall apply for, and receive the benefit of this institution, and of their sureties, together with the sums lent, the dates, and other necessary and proper records, respecting the business and concerns of this institution: and as these loans are intended to assist young married artificers, in setting up their business, they are to be proportioned by the discretion of the managers, so as not to exceed sixty pounds sterling to one person, nor to be less than fifteen pounds. and if the number of appliers so entitled should be so large as that the sum will not suffice to afford to each as much as might otherwise not be improper, the proportion to each shall be diminished, so as to afford to every one some assistance. these aids may, therefore, be small at first, but as the capital increases by the accumulated interest, they will be more ample. and in order to serve as many as possible in their turn, as well as to make the re-payment of the principal borrowed more easy, each borrower shall be obliged to pay with the yearly interest, one tenth part of the principal; which sums of principal and interest so paid in, shall be again let out to fresh borrowers. and it is presumed, that there will be always found in boston virtuous and benevolent citizens, willing to bestow a part of their time in doing good to the rising generation, by superintending and managing this institution gratis; it is hoped that no part of the money will at any time lie dead, or be diverted to other purposes, but be continually augmenting by the interest, in which case, there may in time be more than the occasion in boston may require; and then some may be spared to the neighbouring or other towns, in the said state of massachusetts, which may desire to have it, such towns engaging to pay punctually the interest, and the proportion of the principal annually to the inhabitants of the town of boston. if this plan is executed, and succeeds, as projected, for one hundred years, the sum will then be one hundred and thirty thousand pounds, of which i would have the managers of the donation to the town of boston then lay out, at their discretion, one hundred thousand pounds in public works, which may be judged of most general utility to the inhabitants; such as fortifications, bridges, aqueducts, public buildings, baths, pavements, or whatever may make living in the town more convenient to its people, and render it more agreeable to strangers resorting thither for health, or a temporary residence. the remaining thirty-one thousand pounds i would have continued to be let out to interest, in the manner above directed, for one hundred years; as i hope it will have been found that the institution has had a good effect on the conduct of youth, and been of service to many worthy characters and useful citizens. at the end of this second term, if no unfortunate accident has prevented the operation, the sum will be four millions and sixty-one thousand pounds sterling, of which i leave one million and sixty-one thousand pounds to the disposition and management of the inhabitants of the town of boston, and the three millions to the disposition of the government of the state--not presuming to carry my views farther. all the directions herein given respecting the disposition and management of the donation to the inhabitants of boston, i would have observed respecting that to the inhabitants of philadelphia; only, as philadelphia is incorporated, i request the corporation of that city to undertake the management, agreeable to the said directions: and i do hereby vest them with full and ample powers for that purpose. and having considered that the covering its ground-plat with buildings and pavements, which carry off most of the rain, and prevent its soaking into the earth, and renewing and purifying the springs, whence the water of the wells must gradually grow worse, and in time be unfit for use, as i find has happened in all old cities; i recommend, that, at the end of the first hundred years, if not done before, the corporation of the city employ a part of the hundred thousand pounds in bringing by pipes the water of wissahickon-creek into the town, so as to supply the inhabitants, which i apprehend may be done without great difficulty, the level of that creek being much above that of the city, and may be made higher by a dam. i also recommend making the schuylkil completely navigable. at the end of the second hundred years, i would have the disposition of the four millions and sixty-one thousand pounds divided between the inhabitants of the city of philadelphia and the government of pennsylvania, in the same manner as herein directed with respect to that of the inhabitants of boston and the government of massachusetts. it is my desire that this institution should take place, and begin to operate within one year after my decease, for which purpose due notice should be publicly given, previous to the expiration of that year, that those for whose benefit this establishment is intended may make their respective applications: and i hereby direct my executors, the survivor or survivors of them, within six months after my decease, to pay over the said sum of two thousand pounds sterling to such persons as shall be duly appointed by the select men of boston, and the corporation of philadelphia, to receive and take charge of their respective sums of one thousand pounds each, for the purposes aforesaid. considering the accidents to which all human affairs and projects are subject in such a length of time, i have, perhaps, too much flattered myself with a vain fancy, that these dispositions, if carried into execution, will be continued without interruption, and have the effects proposed: i hope, however, that if the inhabitants of the two cities should not think fit to undertake the execution, they will at least accept the offer of these donations, as a mark of my good will, token of my gratitude, and testimony of my desire to be useful to them even after my departure. i wish, indeed, that they may both undertake to endeavour the execution of my project, because i think, that, though unforeseen difficulties may arise, expedients will be found to remove them, and the scheme be found practicable. if one of them accepts the money with the conditions, and the other refuses, my will then is, that both sums be given to the inhabitants of the city accepting; the whole to be applied to the same purposes, and under the same regulations directed for the separate parts; and, if both refuse, the money remains of course in the mass of my estate, and it is to be disposed of therewith, according to my will made the seventeenth day of july, . my fine crab-tree walking-stick, with a gold head curiously wrought in the form of the cap of liberty, i give to my friend, and the friend of mankind, general washington. if it was a sceptre, he has merited it, and would become it. footnote: [ ] this epitaph first appeared in a boston news-paper established and printed by dr. franklin. e. letters and papers on _electricity_. _it may not be improper to present the reader with the following extract from the preface to the first edition of dr. franklin's papers on electricity, which, as we have stated in the advertisement, formed a pamphlet only._ _"the following observations and experiments were not drawn up with a view to their being made public, but were communicated at different times, and most of them in letters, written on various topics, as matters only of private amusement._ _"but some persons, to whom they were read, and who had themselves been conversant in electrical disquisitions, were of opinion, they contained so many curious and interesting particulars relative to this affair, that it would be doing a kind of injustice to the public, to confine them solely to the limits of a private acquaintance._ _"the editor was therefore prevailed upon to commit such extracts of letters and other detached pieces as were in his hands to the press, without waiting for the ingenious author's permission so to do; and this was done with the less hesitation, as it was apprehended the author's engagements in other affairs would scarce afford him leisure to give the public his reflections and experiments on the subject, finished with that care and precision, of which the treatise before us shows he is alike studious and capable."_ _with respect to the general merit and originality of the experiments and hypothesis of dr. franklin, as described and explained in these letters, the following is the testimony of one of the first natural philosophers of his age--the late dr. priestly, in his history of electricity._ _"nothing was ever written upon the subject of electricity which was more generally read and admired in all parts of europe than these letters. there is hardly any european language into which they have not been translated; and, as if this were not sufficient to make them properly known, a translation of them has lately been made into latin. it is not easy to say, whether we are most pleased with the simplicity and perspicuity with which these letters are written, the modesty with which the author proposes every hypothesis of his own, or the noble frankness with which he relates his mistakes, when they were corrected by subsequent experiments._ _"though the english have not been backward in acknowledging the great merit of this philosopher, he has had the singular good fortune to be, perhaps, even more celebrated abroad than at home; so that, to form a just idea of the great and deserved reputation of dr. franklin, we must read the foreign publications on the subject of electricity; in many of which the terms_ franklinism, franklinist, _and the_ franklinian system, _occur in almost every page. in consequence of this, dr. franklin's principles bid fair to be handed down to posterity as equally expressive of the true principles of electricity, as the newtonian philosophy is of the true system of nature in general."_ _letters and papers_ on philosophical subjects. _electricity._ to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. introductory letter. _philadelphia, march , ._ sir, your kind present of an electric tube, with directions for using it, has put several of us[ ] on making electrical experiments, in which we have observed some particular phenomena that we look upon to be new. i shall therefore communicate them to you in my next, though possibly they may not be new to you, as among the numbers daily employed in those experiments on your side the water, it is probable some one or other has hit on the same observations. for my own part, i never was before engaged in any study that so totally engrossed my attention and my time as this has lately done; for what with making experiments when i can be alone, and repeating them to my friends and acquaintance, who, from the novelty of the thing, come continually in crowds to see them, i have, during some months past, had little leisure for any thing else. i am, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] i. e. of the _library-company_, an institution of the author's, founded . to which company the present was made[ ]. [ ] where notes occur without a signature, in the philosophical, or other papers, they are generally notes of the author.--editor. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _wonderful effect of points.--positive and negative electricity.--electrical kiss.--counterfeit spider.--simple and commodious electrical machine._ _philadelphia, july , ._ sir, in my last i informed you that, in pursuing our electrical enquiries, we had observed some particular phenomena, which we looked upon to be new, and of which i promised to give you some account, though i apprehended they might not possibly be new to you, as so many hands are daily employed in electrical experiments on your side the water, some or other of which would probably hit on the same observations. the first is the wonderful effect of pointed bodies, both in _drawing off_ and _throwing off_ the electrical fire. for example, place an iron shot of three or four inches diameter on the mouth of a clean dry glass bottle. by a fine silken thread from the cieling, right over the mouth of the bottle, suspend a small cork-ball, about the bigness of a marble; the thread of such a length, as that the cork-ball may rest against the side of the shot. electrify the shot, and the ball will be repelled to the distance of four or five inches, more or less, according to the quantity of electricity.--when in this state, if you present to the shot the point of a long, slender, sharp bodkin, at six or eight inches distance, the repellency is instantly destroyed, and the cork flies to the shot. a blunt body must be brought within an inch, and draw a spark to produce the same effect. to prove that the electrical fire is _drawn off_ by the point, if you take the blade of the bodkin out of the wooden handle, and fix it in a stick of sealing-wax, and then present it at the distance aforesaid, or if you bring it very near, no such effect follows; but sliding one finger along the wax till you touch the blade, and the ball flies to the shot immediately.--if you present the point in the dark, you will see, sometimes at a foot distance and more, a light gather upon it, like that of a fire-fly, or glow-worm; the less sharp the point, the nearer you must bring it to observe the light; and at whatever distance you see the light, you may draw off the electrical fire, and destroy the repellency.--if a cork-ball so suspended be repelled by the tube, and a point be presented quick to it, though at a considerable distance, it is surprising to see how suddenly it flies back to the tube. points of wood will do near as well as those of iron, provided the wood is not dry; for perfectly dry wood will no more conduct electricity than sealing-wax. to shew that points will _throw off_[ ] as well as _draw off_ the electrical fire; lay a long sharp needle upon the shot, and you cannot electrise the shot so as to make it repel the cork-ball.--or fix a needle to the end of a suspended gun-barrel, or iron-rod, so as to point beyond it like a little bayonet[ ]; and while it remains there, the gun-barrel, or rod, cannot by applying the tube to the other end be electrised so as to give a spark, the fire continually running out silently at the point. in the dark you may see it make the same appearance as it does in the case before-mentioned. the repellency between the cork-ball and the shot is likewise destroyed. . by sifting fine sand on it; this does it gradually. . by breathing on it. . by making a smoke about it from burning wood[ ]. . by candle-light, even though the candle is at a foot distance: these do it suddenly.--the light of a bright coal from a wood fire; and the light of a red-hot iron do it likewise; but not at so great a distance. smoke from dry rosin dropt on hot iron, does not destroy the repellency; but is attracted by both shot and cork-ball, forming proportionable atmospheres round them, making them look beautifully, somewhat like some of the figures in burnet's or whiston's theory of the earth. _n.b._ this experiment should be made in a closet, where the air is very still, or it will be apt to fail. the light of the sun thrown strongly on both cork and shot by a looking-glass for a long time together, does not impair the repellency in the least. this difference between fire-light and sun-light is another thing that seems new and extraordinary to us[ ]. we had for some time been of opinion, that the electrical fire was not created by friction, but collected, being really an element diffused among, and attracted by other matter, particularly by water and metals. we had even discovered and demonstrated its afflux to the electrical sphere, as well as its efflux, by means of little light windmill-wheels made of stiff paper vanes, fixed obliquely, and turning freely on fine wire axes. also by little wheels of the same matter, but formed like water-wheels. of the disposition and application of which wheels, and the various phenomena resulting, i could, if i had time, fill you a sheet[ ]. the impossibility of electrising one's self (though standing on wax) by rubbing the tube, and drawing the fire from it; and the manner of doing it, by passing the tube near a person or thing standing on the floor, &c. had also occurred to us some months before mr. watson's ingenious _sequel_ came to hand, and these were some of the new things i intended to have communicated to you.--but now i need only mention some particulars not hinted in that piece, with our reasonings thereupon: though perhaps the latter might well enough be spared. . a person standing on wax, and rubbing the tube, and another person on wax drawing the fire, they will both of them (provided they do not stand so as to touch one another) appear to be electrised, to a person standing on the floor; that is, he will perceive a spark on approaching each of them with his knuckle. . but if the persons on wax touch one another during the exciting of the tube, neither of them will appear to be electrised. . if they touch one another after exciting the tube, and drawing the fire as aforesaid, there will be a stronger spark between them than was between either of them and the person on the floor. . after such strong spark, neither of them discover any electricity. these appearances we attempt to account for thus: we suppose, as aforesaid, that electrical fire is a common element, of which every one of the three persons abovementioned has his equal share, before any operation is begun with the tube. _a_, who stands on wax and rubs the tube, collects the electrical fire from himself into the glass; and his communication with the common stock being cut off by the wax, his body is not again immediately supplied. _b_,(who stands on wax likewise) passing his knuckle along near the tube, receives the fire which was collected by the glass from _a_; and his communication with the common stock being likewise cut off, he retains the additional quantity received.--to _c_, standing on the floor, both appear to be electrised: for he having only the middle quantity of electrical fire, receives a spark upon approaching _b_, who has an over quantity; but gives one to _a_, who has an under quantity. if _a_ and _b_ approach to touch each other, the spark is stronger, because the difference between them is greater: after such touch there is no spark between either of them and _c_, because the electrical fire in all is reduced to the original equality. if they touch while electrising, the equality is never destroyed, the fire only circulating. hence have arisen some new terms among us; we say _b_, (and bodies like circumstanced) is electrised _positively_; _a_, _negatively_. or rather, _b_ is electrised _plus_; _a_, _minus_. and we daily in our experiments electrise bodies _plus_ or _minus_, as we think proper.--to electrise _plus_ or _minus_, no more needs to be known than this, that the parts of the tube or sphere that are rubbed, do, in the instant of the friction, attract the electrical fire, and therefore take it from the thing rubbing: the same parts immediately, as the friction upon them ceases, are disposed to give the fire they have received, to any body that has less. thus you may circulate it, as mr. watson has shewn; you may also accumulate or subtract it, upon, or from any body, as you connect that body with the rubber or with the receiver, the communication with the common stock being cut off. we think that ingenious gentleman was deceived when he imagined (in his _sequel_) that the electrical fire came down the wire from the cieling to the gun-barrel, thence to the sphere, and so electrised the machine and the man turning the wheel, &c. we suppose it was _driven off_, and not brought on through that wire; and that the machine and man, &c. were electrised _minus_; _i. e._ had less electrical fire in them than things in common. as the vessel is just upon sailing, i cannot give you so large an account of american electricity as i intended: i shall only mention a few particulars more.--we find granulated lead better to fill the phial with, than water, being easily warmed, and keeping warm and dry in damp air.--we fire spirits with the wire of the phial.--we light candles, just blown out, by drawing a spark among the smoke between the wire and snuffers.--we represent lightning, by passing the wire in the dark, over a china plate that has gilt flowers, or applying it to gilt frames of looking-glasses, &c.--we electrise a person twenty or more times running, with a touch of the finger on the wire, thus: he stands on wax. give him the electrised bottle in his hand. touch the wire with your finger, and then touch his hand or face; there are sparks every time[ ].--we encrease the force of the electrical kiss vastly, thus: let _a_ and _b_ stand on wax; or _a_ on wax, and _b_ on the floor; give one of them the electrised phial in hand; let the other take hold of the wire; there will be a small spark; but when their lips approach, they will be struck and shock'd. the same if another gentleman and lady, _c_ and _d_, standing also on wax, and joining hands with _a_ and _b_, salute or shake hands. we suspend by fine silk thread a counterfeit spider, made of a small piece of burnt cork, with legs of linnen thread, and a grain or two of lead stuck in him, to give him more weight. upon the table, over which he hangs, we stick a wire upright, as high as the phial and wire, four or five inches from the spider: then we animate him, by setting the electrified phial at the same distance on the other side of him; he will immediately fly to the wire of the phial, bend his legs in touching it, then spring off, and fly to the wire in the table, thence again to the wire of the phial, playing with his legs against both, in a very entertaining manner, appearing perfectly alive to persons unacquainted. he will continue this motion an hour or more in dry weather.--we electrify, upon wax in the dark, a book that has a double line of gold round upon the covers, and then apply a knuckle to the gilding; the fire appears every where upon the gold like a flash of lightning: not upon the leather, nor, if you touch the leather instead of the gold. we rub our tubes with buckskin, and observe always to keep the same side to the tube, and never to sully the tube by handling; thus they work readily and easily, without the least fatigue, especially if kept in tight pasteboard cases, lined with flannel, and sitting close to the tube[ ]. this i mention, because the european papers on electricity frequently speak of rubbing the tube as a fatiguing exercise. our spheres are fixed on iron axes, which pass through them. at one end of the axis there is a small handle, with which you turn the sphere like a common grind-stone. this we find very commodious, as the machine takes up but little room, is portable, and may be enclosed in a tight box, when not in use. it is true, the sphere does not turn so swift as when the great wheel is used: but swiftness we think of little importance, since a few turns will charge the phial, &c. sufficiently[ ]. i am, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] this power of points to _throw off_ the electrical fire, was first communicated to me by my ingenious friend mr. thomas hopkinson, since deceased, whose virtue and integrity, in every station of life, public and private, will ever make his memory dear to those who knew him, and knew how to value him. [ ] this was mr. hopkinson's experiment, made with an expectation of drawing a more sharp and powerful spark from the point, as from a kind of focus, and he was surprised to find little or none. [ ] we suppose every particle of sand, moisture, or smoke, being first attracted and then repelled, carries off with it a portion of the electrical fire; but that the same still subsists in those particles, till they communicate it to something else, and that it is never really destroyed. so when water is thrown on common fire, we do not imagine the element is thereby destroyed or annihilated, but only dispersed, each particle of water carrying off in vapour its portion of the fire, which it had attracted and attached to itself. [ ] this different effect probably did not arise from any difference in the light, but rather from the particles separated from the candle, being first attracted and then repelled, carrying off the electric matter with them; and from the rarefying the air, between the glowing coal or red-hot iron, and the electrised shot, through which rarefied air the electric fluid could more readily pass. [ ] these experiments with the wheels, were made and communicated to me by my worthy and ingenious friend mr. philip syng; but we afterwards discovered that the motion of those wheels was not owing to any afflux or efflux of the electric fluid, but to various circumstances of attraction and repulsion. . [ ] by taking a spark from the wire, the electricity within the bottle is diminished; the outside of the bottle then draws some from the person holding it, and leaves him in the negative state. then when his hand or face is touched, an equal quantity is restored to him from the person touching. [ ] our tubes are made here of green glass, or inches long, as big as can be grasped. [ ] this simple easily-made machine was a contrivance of mr. syng's. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _observations on the leyden bottle, with experiments proving the different electrical state of its different surfaces._ _philadelphia, sept. , ._ sir, the necessary trouble of copying long letters, which, perhaps, when they come to your hands, may contain nothing new, or worth your reading, (so quick is the progress made with you in electricity) half discourages me from writing any more on that subject. yet i cannot forbear adding a few observations on m. muschenbroek's wonderful bottle. . the non-electric contained in the bottle differs, when electrised, from a non-electric electrised out of the bottle, in this: that the electrical fire of the latter is accumulated _on its surface_, and forms an electrical atmosphere round it of considerable extent; but the electrical fire is crowded _into the substance_ of the former, the glass confining it[ ]. . at the same time that the wire and the top of the bottle, &c. is electrised _positively_ or _plus_, the bottom of the bottle is electrised _negatively_ or _minus_, in exact proportion: _i. e._ whatever quantity of electrical fire is thrown in at the top, an equal quantity goes out of the bottom[ ]. to understand this, suppose the common quantity of electricity in each part of the bottle, before the operation begins, is equal to ; and at every stroke of the tube, suppose a quantity equal to is thrown in; then, after the first stroke, the quantity contained in the wire and upper part of the bottle will be , in the bottom . after the second, the upper part will have , the lower , and so on, till, after strokes, the upper part will have a quantity of electrical fire equal to , the lower part none: and then the operation ends: for no more can be thrown into the upper part, when no more can be driven out of the lower part. if you attempt to throw more in, it is spewed back through the wire, or flies out in loud cracks through the sides of the bottle. . the equilibrium cannot be restored in the bottle by _inward_ communication or contact of the parts; but it must be done by a communication formed _without_ the bottle, between the top and bottom, by some non-electric, touching or approaching both at the same time; in which case it is restored with a violence and quickness inexpressible; or, touching each alternately, in which case the equilibrium is restored by degrees. . as no more electrical fire can be thrown into the top of the bottle, when all is driven out of the bottom, so in a bottle not yet electrised, none can be thrown into the top, when none _can_ get out at the bottom; which happens either when the bottom is too thick, or when the bottle is placed on an electric _per se_. again, when the bottle is electrised, but little of the electrical fire can be _drawn out_ from the top, by touching the wire, unless an equal quantity can at the same time _get in_ at the bottom[ ]. thus, place an electrised bottle on clean glass or dry wax, and you will not, by touching the wire, get out the fire from the top. place it on a non-electric, and touch the wire, you will get it out in a short time; but soonest when you form a direct communication as above. so wonderfully are these two states of electricity, the _plus_ and _minus_, combined and balanced in this miraculous bottle! situated and related to each other in a manner that i can by no means comprehend! if it were possible that a bottle should in one part contain a quantity of air strongly comprest, and in another part a perfect vacuum, we know the equilibrium would be instantly restored _within_. but here we have a bottle containing at the same time a _plenum_ of electrical fire, and a _vacuum_ of the same fire; and yet the equilibrium cannot be restored between them but by a communication _without!_ though the _plenum_ presses violently to expand, and the hungry vacuum seems to attract as violently in order to be filled. . the shock to the nerves (or convulsion rather) is occasioned by the sudden passing of the fire through the body in its way from the top to the bottom of the bottle. the fire takes the shortest[ ] course, as mr. watson justly observes: but it does not appear from experiment that in order for a person to be shocked, a communication with the floor is necessary: for he that holds the bottle with one hand, and touches the wire with the other, will be shocked as much, though his shoes be dry, or even standing on wax, as otherwise. and on the touch of the wire, (or of the gun-barrel, which is the same thing) the fire does not proceed from the touching finger to the wire, as is supposed, but from the wire to the finger, and passes through the body to the other hand, and so into the bottom of the bottle. _experiments confirming the above._ experiment i. place an electrised phial on wax; a small cork-ball suspended by a dry silk thread held in your hand, and brought near to the wire, will first be attracted, and then repelled: when in this state of repellency, sink your hand, that the ball may be brought towards the bottom of the bottle; it will be there instantly and strongly attracted, till it has parted with its fire. if the bottle had a _positive_ electrical atmosphere, as well as the wire, an electrified cork would be repelled from one as well as from the other. [illustration: (of the experiments below) _plate i._ _vol. i. page ._ _published as the act directs, april , , by longman, hurst, rees & orme, paternoster row._] experiment ii. fig. . from a bent wire (_a_) sticking in the table, let a small linen thread (_b_) hang down within half an inch of the electrised phial (_c_). touch the wire or the phial repeatedly with your finger, and at every touch you will see the thread instantly attracted by the bottle. (this is best done by a vinegar cruet, or some such bellied-bottle). as soon as you draw any fire out from the upper part, by touching the wire, the lower part of the bottle draws an equal quantity in by the thread. experiment iii. fig. . fix a wire in the lead, with which the bottom of the bottle is armed (_d_) so as that bending upwards, its ring-end may be level with the top or ring-end of the wire in the cork (_e_) and at three or four inches distance. then electrise the bottle, and place it on wax. if a cork suspended by a silk thread (_f_) hang between these two wires, it will play incessantly from one to the other, till the bottle is no longer electrised; that is, it fetches and carries fire from the top to the bottom[ ] of the bottle, till the equilibrium is restored. experiment iv. fig. . place an electrised phial on wax; take a wire (_g_) in form of a _c_, the ends at such a distance when bent, as that the upper may touch the wire of the bottle, when the lower touches the bottom: stick the outer part on a stick of sealing-wax (_h_), which will serve as a handle; then apply the lower end to the bottom of the bottle, and gradually bring the upper end near the wire in the cork. the consequence is, spark follows spark till the equilibrium is restored. touch the top first, and on approaching the bottom, with the other end, you have a constant stream of fire from the wire entering the bottle. touch the top and bottom together, and the equilibrium will instantly be restored, the crooked wire forming the communication. experiment v. fig. . let a ring of thin lead, or paper, surround a bottle (_i_) even at some distance from or above the bottom. from that ring let a wire proceed up, till it touch the wire of the cork (_k_). a bottle so fixt cannot by any means be electrised: the equilibrium is never destroyed: for while the communication between the upper and lower parts of the bottle is continued by the outside wire, the fire only circulates: what is driven out at bottom, is constantly supplied from the top[ ]. hence a bottle cannot be electrised that is foul or moist on the outside, if such moisture continue up to the cork or wire. experiment vi. place a man on a cake of wax, and present him the wire of the electrified phial to touch, you standing on the floor, and holding it in your hand. as often as he touches it, he will be electrified _plus_; and any one standing on the floor may draw a spark from him. the fire in this experiment passes out of the wire into him; and at the same time out of your hand into the bottom of the bottle. experiment vii. give him the electrical phial to hold; and do you touch the wire; as often as you touch it he will be electrified _minus_, and may draw a spark from any one standing on the floor. the fire now passes from the wire to you, and from him into the bottom of the bottle. experiment viii. lay two books on two glasses, back towards back, two or three inches distant. set the electrified phial on one, and then touch the wire; that book will be electrified _minus_; the electrical fire being drawn out of it by the bottom of the bottle. take off the bottle, and holding it in your hand, touch the other with the wire; that book will be electrified _plus_; the fire passing into it from the wire, and the bottle at the same time supplied from your hand. a suspended small cork-ball will play between these books till the equilibrium is restored. experiment ix. when a body is electrised _plus_, it will repel a positively electrified feather or small cork-ball. when _minus_ (or when in the common state) it will attract them, but stronger when _minus_ than when in the common state, the difference being greater. experiment x. though, as in _experiment_ vi, a man standing on wax may be electrised a number of times by repeatedly touching the wire of an electrised bottle (held in the hand of one standing on the floor) he receiving the fire from the wire each time: yet holding it in his own hand, and touching the wire, though he draws a strong spark, and is violently shocked, no electricity remains in him; the fire only passing through him, from the upper to the lower part of the bottle. observe, before the shock, to let some one on the floor touch him to restore the equilibrium in his body; for in taking hold of the bottom of the bottle, he sometimes becomes a little electrised _minus_, which will continue after the shock, as would also any _plus_ electricity, which he might have given him before the shock. for restoring the equilibrium in the bottle, does not at all affect the electricity in the man through whom the fire passes; that electricity is neither increased nor diminished. experiment xi. the passing of the electrical fire from the upper to the lower part[ ] of the bottle, to restore the equilibrium, is rendered strongly visible by the following pretty experiment. take a book whose covering is filletted with gold; bend a wire of eight or ten inches long, in the form of (_m_) fig. ; slip it on the end of the cover of the book, over the gold line, so as that the shoulder of it may press upon one end of the gold line, the ring up, but leaning towards the other end of the book. lay the book on a glass or wax[ ], and on the other end of the gold lines set the bottle electrised; then bend the springing wire, by pressing it with a stick of wax till its ring approaches the ring of the bottle wire, instantly there is a strong spark and stroke, and the whole line of gold, which completes the communication, between the top and bottom of the bottle, will appear a vivid flame, like the sharpest lightning. the closer the contact between the shoulder of the wire, and the gold at one end of the line, and between the bottom of the bottle and the gold at the other end, the better the experiment succeeds. the room should be darkened. if you would have the whole filletting round the cover appear in fire at once, let the bottle and wire touch the gold in the diagonally opposite corners. i am, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] see this opinion rectified in § and of the next letter. the fire in the bottle was found by subsequent experiments not to be contained in the non-electric, but _in the glass_. . [ ] what is said here, and after, of the _top_ and _bottom_ of the bottle, is true of the _inside_ and _outside_ surfaces, and should have been so expressed. [ ] see the preceding note, relating to _top_ and _bottom_. [ ] other circumstances being equal. [ ] _i. e._ from the inside to the outside. [ ] see the preceding note, relating to _top_ and _bottom_. [ ] _i. e._ from the _inside_ to the _outside_. [ ] placing the book on glass or wax is not necessary to produce the appearance; it is only to show that the visible electricity is not brought up from the common stock in the earth. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _farther experiments confirming the preceding observations.--leyden bottle analysed.--electrical battery.--magical picture.--electrical wheel or jack.--electrical feast._ _philadelphia, ._ sir, § . there will be the same explosion and shock if the electrified phial is held in one hand by the hook, and the coating touched with the other, as when held by the coating, and touched at the hook. . to take the charged phial safely by the hook, and not at the same time diminish its force, it must first be set down on an electric _per se_. . the phial will be electrified as strongly, if held by the hook, and the coating applied to the globe or tube; as when held by the coating, and the hook applied[ ]. . but the _direction_ of the electrical fire being different in the charging, will also be different in the explosion. the bottle charged through the hook, will be discharged through the hook; the bottle charged through the coating, will be discharged through the coating, and not otherways; for the fire must come out the same way it went in. . to prove this, take two bottles that were equally charged through the hooks, one in each hand: bring their hooks near each other, and no spark or shock will follow; because each hook is disposed to give fire, and neither to receive it. set one of the bottles down on glass, take it up by the hook, and apply its coating to the hook of the other; then there will be an explosion and shock, and both bottles will be discharged. . vary the experiment, by charging two phials equally, one through the hook, the other through the coating: hold that by the coating which was charged through the hook; and that by the hook which was charged through the coating: apply the hook of the first to the coating of the other, and there will be no shock or spark. set that down on glass which you held by the hook, take it up by the coating, and bring the two hooks together: a spark and shock will follow, and both phials be discharged. in this experiment the bottles are totally discharged, or the equilibrium within them restored. the _abounding_ of fire in one of the hooks (or rather in the internal surface of one bottle) being exactly equal to the _wanting_ of the other: and therefore, as each bottle has in itself the _abounding_ as well as the _wanting_, the wanting and abounding must be equal in each bottle. see § , , , . but if a man holds in his hands two bottles, one fully electrified, the other not at all, and brings their hooks together, he has but half a shock, and the bottles will both remain half electrified, the one being half discharged, and the other half charged. . place two phials equally charged on a table at five or six inches distance. let a cork-ball, suspended by a silk thread, hang between them. if the phials were both charged through their hooks, the cork, when it has been attracted and repelled by the one, will not be attracted, but equally repelled by the other. but if the phials were charged, the one through the hook, and the other[ ] through the coating, the ball, when it is repelled from one hook, will be as strongly attracted by the other, and play vigorously between them, fetching the electric fluid from the one, and delivering it to the other, till both phials are nearly discharged. . when we use the terms of _charging_ and _discharging_ the phial, it is in compliance with custom, and for want of others more suitable. since we are of opinion that there is really no more electrical fire in the phial after what is called its _charging_, than before, nor less after its _discharging_; excepting only the small spark that might be given to, and taken from the non-electric matter, if separated from the bottle, which spark may not be equal to a five hundredth part of what is called the explosion. for if, on the explosion, the electrical fire came out of the bottle by one part, and did not enter in again by another, then, if a man, standing on wax, and holding the bottle in one hand, takes the spark by touching the wire hook with the other, the bottle being thereby _discharged_, the man would be _charged_; or whatever fire was lost by one, would be found in the other, since there was no way for its escape: but the contrary is true. . besides, the phial will not suffer what is called a _charging_, unless as much fire can go out of it one way, as is thrown in by another. a phial cannot be charged standing on wax or glass, or hanging on the prime conductor, unless a communication be formed between its coating and the floor. . but suspend two or more phials on the prime conductor, one hanging on the tail of the other; and a wire from the last to the floor, an equal number of turns of the wheel shall charge them all equally, and every one as much as one alone would have been. what is driven out at the tail of the first, serving to charge the second; what is driven out of the second charging the third; and so on. by this means a great number of bottles might be charged with the same labour, and equally high, with one alone; were it not that every bottle receives new fire, and loses its old with some reluctance, or rather gives some small resistance to the charging, which in a number of bottles becomes more equal to the charging power, and so repels the fire back again on the globe, sooner in proportion than a single bottle would do. . when a bottle is charged in the common way, its _inside_ and _outside_ surfaces stand ready, the one to give fire by the hook, the other to receive it by the coating; the one is full, and ready to throw out, the other empty and extremely hungry; yet as the first will not _give out_, unless the other can at the same instant _receive in_; so neither will the latter receive in, unless the first can at the same instant give out. when both can be done at once, it is done with inconceivable quickness and violence. . so a straight spring (though the comparison does not agree in every particular) when forcibly bent, must, to restore itself, contract that side which in the bending was extended, and extend that which was contracted; if either of these two operations be hindered, the other cannot be done. but the spring is not said to be _charged_ with elasticity when bent, and discharged when unbent; its quantity of elasticity is always the same. . glass, in like manner, has, within its substance, always the same quantity of electrical fire, and that a very great quantity in proportion to the mass of glass, as shall be shewn hereafter. . this quantity, proportioned to the glass, it strongly and obstinately retains, and will have neither more nor less, though it will suffer a change to be made in its parts and situation; _i. e._ we may take away part of it from one of the sides, provided we throw an equal quantity into the other. . yet when the situation of the electrical fire is thus altered in the glass; when some has been taken from one side, and some added to the other, it will not be at rest or in its natural state, till it is restored to its original equality. and this restitution cannot be made through the substance of the glass, but must be done by a non-electric communication formed without, from surface to surface. . thus, the whole force of the bottle, and power of giving a shock, is in the glass itself; the non-electrics in contact with the two surfaces, serving only to _give_ and _receive_ to and from the several parts of the glass; that is, to give on one side, and take away from the other. . this was discovered here in the following manner: purposing to analyse the electrified bottle, in order to find wherein its strength lay, we placed it on glass, and drew out the cork and wire which for that purpose had been loosely put in. then taking the bottle in one hand, and bringing a finger of the other near its mouth, a strong spark came from the water, and the shock was as violent as if the wire had remained in it, which shewed that the force did not lie in the wire. then to find if it resided in the water, being crowded into and condensed in it, as confined by the glass, which had been our former opinion, we electrified the bottle again, and placing it on glass, drew out the wire and cork as before; then taking up the bottle, we decanted all its water into an empty bottle, which likewise stood on glass; and taking up that other bottle, we expected, if the force resided in the water, to find a shock from it; but there was none. we judged then that it must either be lost in decanting, or remain in the first bottle. the latter we found to be true; for that bottle on trial gave the shock, though filled up as it stood with fresh unelectrified water from a tea-pot.--to find, then, whether glass had this property merely as glass, or whether the form contributed any thing to it; we took a pane of sash-glass, and laying it on the hand, placed a plate of lead on its upper surface; then electrified that plate, and bringing a finger to it, there was a spark and shock. we then took two plates of lead of equal dimensions, but less than the glass by two inches every way, and electrified the glass between them, by electrifying the uppermost lead; then separated the glass from the lead, in doing which, what little fire might be in the lead was taken out, and the glass being touched in the electrified parts with a finger, afforded only very small pricking sparks, but a great number of them might be taken from different places. then dextrously placing it again between the leaden plates, and compleating a circle between the two surfaces, a violent shock ensued.--which demonstrated the power to reside in glass as glass, and that the non-electrics in contact served only, like the armature of a loadstone, to unite the force of the several parts, and bring them at once to any point desired: it being the property of a non-electric, that the whole body instantly receives or gives what electrical fire is given to or taken from any one of its parts. . upon this we made what we called an _electrical-battery_, consisting of eleven panes of large sash-glass, armed with thin leaden plates, pasted on each side, placed vertically, and supported at two inches distance on silk cords, with thick hooks of leaden wire, one from each side, standing upright, distant from each other, and convenient communications of wire and chain, from the giving side of one pane, to the receiving side of the other; that so the whole might be charged together, and with the same labour as one single pane; and another contrivance to bring the giving sides, after charging, in contact with one long wire, and the receivers with another, which two long wires would give the force of all the plates of glass at once through the body of any animal forming the circle with them. the plates may also be discharged separately, or any number together that is required. but this machine is not much used, as not perfectly answering our intention with regard to the ease of charging, for the reason given, _sec. ._ we made also of large glass panes, magical pictures, and self-moving animated wheels, presently to be described. . i perceive by the ingenious mr. watson's last book, lately received, that dr. bevis had used, before we had, panes of glass to give a shock[ ]; though, till that book came to hand, i thought to have communicated it to you as a novelty. the excuse for mentioning it here is, that we tried the experiment differently, drew different consequences from it (for mr. watson still seems to think the fire _accumulated on the non-electric_ that is in contact with the glass, p. ) and, as far as we hitherto know, have carried it farther. . the magical picture[ ] is made thus. having a large metzotinto with a frame and glass, suppose of the king (god preserve him) take out the print, and cut a pannel out of it near two inches distant from the frame all round. if the cut is through the picture it is not the worse. with thin paste, or gum-water, fix the border that is cut off on the inside the glass, pressing it smooth and close; then fill up the vacancy by gilding the glass well with leaf-gold, or brass. gild likewise the inner edge of the back of the frame all round, except the top part, and form a communication between that gilding and the gilding behind the glass: then put in the board, and that side is finished. turn up the glass, and gild the fore side exactly over the back gilding, and when it is dry, cover it, by pasting on the pannel of the picture that hath been cut out, observing to bring the correspondent parts of the border and picture together, by which the picture will appear of a piece, as at first, only part is behind the glass, and part before. hold the picture horizontally by the top, and place a little moveable gilt crown on the king's head. if now the picture be moderately electrified, and another person take hold of the frame with one hand, so that his fingers touch its inside gilding, and with the other hand endeavour to take off the crown, he will receive a terrible blow, and fail in the attempt. if the picture were highly charged, the consequence might perhaps be as fatal[ ] as that of high treason, for when the spark is taken through a quire of paper laid on the picture by means of a wire communication, it makes a fair hole through every sheet, that is, through forty-eight leaves, though a quire of paper is thought good armour against the push of a sword, or even against a pistol bullet, and the crack is exceeding loud. the operator, who holds the picture by the upper end, where the inside of the frame is not gilt, to prevent its falling, feels nothing of the shock, and may touch the face of the picture without danger, which he pretends is a test of his loyalty.--if a ring of persons take the shock among them, the experiment is called, _the conspirators_. . on the principle, in _sec. _, that hooks of bottles, differently charged, will attract and repel differently, is made an electrical wheel, that turns with considerable strength. a small upright shaft of wood passes at right angles through a thin round board, of about twelve inches diameter, and turns on a sharp point of iron, fixed in the lower end, while a strong wire in the upper end, passing through a small hole in a thin brass plate, keeps the shaft truly vertical. about thirty _radii_ of equal length, made of sash-glass, cut in narrow strips, issue horizontally from the circumference of the board, the ends most distant from the centre, being about four inches apart. on the end of every one, a brass thimble is fixed. if now the wire of a bottle electrified in the common way, be brought near the circumference of this wheel, it will attract the nearest thimble, and so put the wheel in motion; that thimble, in passing by, receives a spark and thereby being electrified is repelled, and so driven forwards; while a second being attracted, approaches the wire, receives a spark, and is driven after the first, and so on till the wheel has gone once round, when the thimbles before electrified approaching the wire, instead of being attracted as they were at first, are repelled, and the motion presently ceases.--but if another bottle, which had been charged through the coating, be placed near the same wheel, its wire will attract the thimble repelled by the first, and thereby double the force that carries the wheel round; and not only taking out the fire that had been communicated to the thimbles by the first bottle, but even robbing them of their natural quantity, instead of being repelled when they come again towards the first bottle, they are more strongly attracted, so that the wheel mends its pace, till it goes with great rapidity twelve or fifteen rounds in a minute, and with such strength, as that the weight of one hundred spanish dollars with which we once loaded it, did not seem in the least to retard its motion.--this is called an electrical jack; and if a large fowl were spitted on the upright shaft, it would be carried round before a fire with a motion fit for roasting. . but this wheel, like those driven by wind, water, or weights, moves by a foreign force, to wit, that of the bottles. the self-moving wheel, though constructed on the same principles, appears more surprising. it is made of a thin round plate of window-glass, seventeen inches diameter, well gilt on both sides, all but two inches next the edge. two small hemispheres of wood are then fixed with cement to the middle of the upper and under sides, centrally opposite, and in each of them a thick strong wire eight or ten inches long, which together make the axis of the wheel. it turns horizontally on a point at the lower end of its axis, which rests on a bit of brass cemented within a glass salt-cellar. the upper end of its axis passes through a hole in a thin brass plate cemented to a long strong piece of glass, which keeps it six or eight inches distant from any non-electric, and has a small ball of wax or metal on its top, to keep in the fire. in a circle on the table which supports the wheel, are fixed twelve small pillars of glass, at about four inches distance, with a thimble on the top of each. on the edge of the wheel is a small leaden bullet, communicating by a wire with the gilding of the _upper_ surface of the wheel; and about six inches from it is another bullet, communicating in like manner with the _under_ surface. when the wheel is to be charged by the upper surface, a communication must be made from the under surface to the table. when it is well charged it begins to move; the bullet nearest to a pillar moves towards the thimble on that pillar, and passing by electrifies it, and then pushes itself from it; the succeeding bullet, which communicates with the other surface of the glass, more strongly attracts that thimble, on account of its being before electrified by the other bullet; and thus the wheel encreases its motion till it comes to such a height as that the resistance of the air regulates it. it will go half an hour, and make one minute with another twenty turns in a minute, which is six hundred turns in the whole; the bullet of the upper surface giving in each turn twelve sparks to the thimbles, which makes seven thousand two hundred sparks: and the bullet of the under surface receiving as many from the thimbles; those bullets moving in the time near two thousand five hundred feet.--the thimbles are well fixed, and in so exact a circle, that the bullets may pass within a very small distance of each of them.--if instead of two bullets you put eight, four communicating with the upper surface, and four with the under surface, placed alternately, which eight, at about six inches distance, completes the circumference, the force and swiftness will be greatly increased, the wheel making fifty turns in a minute; but then it will not continue moving so long.--these wheels may be applied, perhaps, to the ringing of chimes,[ ] and moving of light-made orreries. . a small wire bent circularly, with a loop at each end; let one end rest against the under surface of the wheel, and bring the other end near the upper surface, it will give a terrible crack, and the force will be discharged. . every spark in that manner drawn from the surface of the wheel, makes a round hole in the gilding, tearing off a part of it in coming out; which shews that the fire is not accumulated on the gilding, but is in the glass itself. . the gilding being varnished over with turpentine varnish, the varnish, though dry and hard, is burnt by the spark drawn through it, and gives a strong smell and visible smoke. and when the spark is drawn thro' paper, all round the hole made by it, the paper will be blacked by the smoke, which sometimes penetrates several of the leaves. part of the gilding torn off is also found forcibly driven into the hole made in the paper by the stroke. . it is amazing to observe in how small a portion of glass a great electrical force may lie. a thin glass bubble, about an inch diameter, weighing only six grains, being half filled with water, partly gilt on the outside, and furnished with a wire hook, gives, when electrified, as great a shock as a man can well bear. as the glass is thickest near the orifice, i suppose the lower half, which being gilt was electrified and gave the shock, did not exceed two grains; for it appeared, when broken, much thinner than the upper half.--if one of these thin bottles be electrified by the coating, and the spark taken out through the gilding, it will break the glass inwards, at the same time that it breaks the gilding outwards. . and allowing (for the reasons before given, § , , ,) that there is no more electrical fire in a bottle after charging, than before, how great must be the quantity in this small portion of glass! it seems as if it were of its very substance and essence. perhaps if that due quantity of electrical fire so obstinately retained by glass, could be separated from it, it would no longer be glass; it might lose its transparency, or its brittleness, or its elasticity.--experiments may possibly be invented hereafter, to discover this. . we were surprised at the account given in mr. watson's book, of a shock communicated through a great space of dry ground, and suspect there must be some metalline quality in the gravel of that ground; having found that simple dry earth, rammed in a glass tube, open at both ends, and a wire hook inserted in the earth at each end, the earth and wires making part of a circuit, would not conduct the least perceptible shock, and indeed when one wire was electrified the other hardly shewed any signs of its being in connection with it[ ]. even a thoroughly wet packthread sometimes fails of conducting a shock, though it otherwise conducts electricity very well. a dry cake of ice, or an icicle held between two in a circle, likewise prevents the shock, which one would not expect, as water conducts it so perfectly well.--gilding on a new book, though at first it conducts the shock extremely well, yet fails after ten or a dozen experiments, though it appears otherwise in all respects the same, which we cannot account for[ ]. . there is one experiment more which surprises us, and is not hitherto satisfactorily accounted for; it is this: place an iron shot on a glass stand, and let a ball of damp cork, suspended by a silk thread, hang in contact with the shot. take a bottle in each hand, one that is electrified through the hook, the other through the coating: apply the giving wire to the shot, which will electrify it _positively_, and the cork shall be repelled: then apply the requiring wire, which will take out the spark given by the other; when the cork will return to the shot: apply the same again, and take out another spark, so will the shot be electrified _negatively_, and the cork in that case shall be repelled equally as before. then apply the giving wire to the shot, and give the spark it wanted, so will the cork return: give it another, which will be an addition to its natural quantity, so will the cork be repelled again: and so may the experiment be repeated as long as there is any charge in the bottles. which shews that bodies, having less than the common quantity of electricity, repel each other, as well as those that have more. chagrined a little that we have been hitherto able to produce nothing in this way of use to mankind; and the hot weather coming on, when electrical experiments are not so agreeable, it is proposed to put an end to them for this season, somewhat humorously, in a party of pleasure, on the banks of _skuylkil_[ ]. spirits, at the same time, are to be fired by a spark sent from side to side through the river, without any other conductor than the water; an experiment which we some time since performed, to the amazement of many[ ]. a turkey is to be killed for our dinner by the _electrical shock_, and roasted by the _electrical jack_, before a fire kindled by the _electrified bottle_: when the healths of all the famous electricians in england, holland, france, and germany are to be drank in _electrified bumpers_[ ], under the discharge of guns from the _electrical battery_. footnotes: [ ] this was a discovery of the very ingenious mr. kinnersley, and by him communicated to me. [ ] to charge a bottle commodiously through the coating, place it on a glass stand; form a communication from the prime conductor to the coating, and another from the hook to the wall or floor. when it is charged, remove the latter communication before you take hold of the bottle, otherwise great part of the fire will escape by it. [ ] i have since heard that mr. smeaton was the first who made use of panes of glass for that purpose. [ ] contrived by mr. kinnersley. [ ] we have since found it fatal to small animals, though not to large ones. the biggest we have yet killed is a hen. . [ ] this was afterwards done with success by mr. kinnersley. [ ] probably the ground is never so dry. [ ] we afterwards found that it failed after one stroke with a large bottle; and the continuity of the gold appearing broken, and many of its parts dissipated, the electricity could not pass the remaining parts without leaping from part to part through the air, which always resists the motion of this fluid, and was probably the cause of the gold's not conducting so well as before; the number of interruptions in the line of gold, making, when added together, a space larger, perhaps, than the striking distance. [ ] the river that washes one side of philadelphia, as the delaware does the other; both are ornamented with the summer habitations of the citizens, and the agreeable mansions of the principal people of this colony. [ ] as the possibility of this experiment has not been easily conceived, i shall here describe it.--two iron rods, about three feet long, were planted just within the margin of the river, on the opposite sides. a thick piece of wire, with a small round knob at its end, was fixed on the top of one of the rods, bending downwards, so as to deliver commodiously the spark upon the surface of the spirit. a small wire fastened by one end to the handle of the spoon, containing the spirit, was carried a-cross the river, and supported in the air by the rope commonly used to hold by, in drawing the ferry-boats over. the other end of this wire was tied round the coating of the bottle; which being charged, the spark was delivered from the hook to the top of the rod standing in the water on that side. at the same instant the rod on the other side delivered a spark into the spoon, and fired the spirit; the electric fire returning to the coating of the bottle, through the handle of the spoon and the supported wire connected with them. that the electric fire thus actually passes through the water, has since been satisfactorily demonstrated to many by an experiment of mr. kinnersley's, performed in a trough of water about ten feet long. the hand being placed under water in the direction of the spark (which always takes the strait or shortest course, if sufficient, and other circumstances are equal) is struck and penetrated by it as it passes. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _observations and suppositions, towards forming a new hypothesis, for explaining the several phenomena of thunder-gusts._[ ] sir, non-electric bodies, that have electric fire thrown into them, will retain it till other electrics, that have less, approach; and then it is communicated by a snap, and becomes equally divided. . electrical fire loves water, is strongly attracted by it, and they can subsist together. . air is an electric _per se_, and when dry will not conduct the electrical fire; it will neither receive it, nor give it to other bodies: otherwise no body surrounded by air, could be electrified positively and negatively: for should it be attempted positively, the air would immediately take away the overplus; or negatively, the air would supply what was wanting. . water being electrified, the vapours arising from it will be equally electrified; and floating in the air, in the form of clouds, or otherwise, will retain that quantity of electrical fire, till they meet with other clouds or bodies not so much electrified, and then will communicate as before-mentioned. . every particle of matter electrified is repelled by every other particle equally electrified. thus the stream of a fountain, naturally dense and continual, when electrified, will separate and spread in the form of a brush, every drop endeavouring to recede from every other drop. but on taking out the electrical fire they close again. . water being strongly electrified (as well as when heated by common fire) rises in vapours more copiously; the attraction of cohesion among its particles being greatly weakened, by the opposite power of repulsion introduced with the electrical fire; and when any particle is by any means disengaged, it is immediately repelled, and so flies into the air. . particles happening to be situated as _a_ and _b_, (fig. vi. _representing the profile of a vessel of water_) are more easily disengaged than _c_ and _d_, as each is held by contact with three only, whereas _c_ and _d_ are each in contact with nine. when the surface of the water has the least motion, particles are continually pushed into the situation represented by _a_ and _b_. . friction between a non-electric and an electric _per se_ will produce electrical fire; not by _creating_, but _collecting_ it: for it is equally diffused in our walls, floors, earth, and the whole mass of common matter. thus the whirling glass globe, during its friction against the cushion, draws fire from the cushion, the cushion is supplied from the frame of the machine, that from the floor on which it stands. cut off the communication by thick glass or wax, placed under the cushion, and no fire can be _produced_, because it cannot be _collected_. . the ocean is a compound of water, a non-electric, and salt an electric _per se_. . when there is a friction among the parts near its surface, the electrical fire is collected from the parts below. it is then plainly visible in the night; it appears in the stern and in the wake of every sailing vessel; every dash of an oar shews it, and every surf and spray: in storms the whole sea seems on fire.--the detached particles of water then repelled from the electrified surface, continually carry off the fire as it is collected; they rise and form clouds, and those clouds are highly electrified, and retain the fire till they have an opportunity of communicating it. . the particles of water, rising in vapours, attach themselves to particles of air. . the particles of air are said to be hard, round, separate and distant from each other; every particle strongly repelling every other particle, whereby they recede from each other, as far as common gravity will permit. . the space between any three particles, equally repelling each other, will be an equilateral triangle. . in air compressed, these triangles are smaller; in rarified air they are larger. . common fire, joined with air, increases the repulsion, enlarges the triangles, and thereby makes the air specifically lighter. such air, among denser air, will rise. . common fire, as well as electrical fire, gives repulsion to the particles of water, and destroys their attraction of cohesion; hence common fire, as well as electrical fire, assists in raising vapours. . particles of water, having no fire in them, mutually attract each other. three particles of water then, being attached to the three particles of a triangle of air, would, by their mutual attraction operating against the air's repulsion, shorten the sides and lessen the triangle, whereby that portion of air made denser, would sink to the earth with its water, and not rise to the formation of a cloud. . but if every particle of water attaching itself to air brings with it a particle of common fire, the repulsion of the air being assisted and strengthened by the fire, more than obstructed by the mutual attraction of the particles of water, the triangle dilates, and that portion of air, becoming rarer and specifically lighter, rises. . if the particles of water bring electrical fire when they attach themselves to air, the repulsion between the particles of water electrified, joins with the natural repulsion of the air, to force its particles to a greater distance, whereby the triangles are dilated, and the air rises, carrying up with it the water. . if the particles of water bring with them portions of _both sorts_ of fire, the repulsion of the particles of air is still more strengthened and increased, and the triangles farther enlarged. . one particle of air may be surrounded by twelve particles of water of equal size with itself, all in contact with it; and by more added to those. . particles of air, thus loaded, would be drawn nearer together by the mutual attraction of the particles of water, did not the fire, common or electrical, assist their repulsion. . if air, thus loaded, be compressed by adverse winds, or by being driven against mountains, &c. or condensed by taking away the fire that assisted it in expanding; the triangles contract, the air with its water will descend as a dew; or, if the water surrounding one particle of air comes in contact with the water surrounding another, they coalesce and form a drop, and we have rain. . the sun supplies (or seems to supply) common fire to vapours, whether raised from earth or sea. . those vapours, which have both common and electrical fire in them, are better supported than those which have only common fire in them; for when vapours rise into the coldest region above the earth, the cold will not diminish the electrical fire, if it doth the common. . hence clouds, formed by vapours, raised from fresh waters within land, from growing vegetables, moist earth, &c. more speedily and easily deposite their water, having but little electrical fire to repel and keep the particles separate. so that the greatest part of the water raised from the land, is let fall on the land again; and winds blowing from the land to the sea are dry; there being little use for rain on the sea, and to rob the land of its moisture, in order to rain on the sea, would not appear reasonable. . but clouds, formed by vapours raised from the sea, having both fires, and particularly a great quantity of the electrical, support their water strongly, raise it high, and being moved by winds, may bring it over the middle of the broadest continent from the middle of the widest ocean. . how these ocean clouds, so strongly supporting their water, are made to deposite it on the land where it is wanted, is next to be considered. . if they are driven by winds against mountains, those mountains being less electrified attract them, and on contact take away their electrical fire (and being cold, the common fire also;) hence the particles close towards the mountains and towards each other. if the air was not much loaded, it only falls in dews on the mountain tops and sides, forms springs, and descends to the vales in rivulets, which, united, make larger streams and rivers. if much loaded, the electrical fire is at once taken from the whole cloud; and, in leaving it, flashes brightly and cracks loudly; the particles instantly coalescing for want of that fire, and falling in a heavy shower. . when a ridge of mountains thus dams the clouds, and draws the electrical fire from the cloud first approaching it; that which next follows, when it comes near the first cloud, now deprived of its fire, flashes into it, and begins to deposite its own water; the first cloud again flashing into the mountains; the third approaching cloud, and all succeeding ones, acting in the same manner as far back as they extend, which may be over many hundred miles of country. . hence the continual storms of rain, thunder, and lightning on the east side of the andes, which running north and south, and being vastly high, intercept all the clouds brought against them from the atlantic ocean by the trade winds, and oblige them to deposite their waters, by which the vast rivers amazons, la plata, and oroonoko are formed, which return the water into the same sea, after having fertilized a country of very great extent. . if a country be plain, having no mountains to intercept the electrified clouds, yet it is not without means to make them deposite their water. for if an electrified cloud, coming from the sea, meets in the air a cloud raised from the land, and therefore not electrified; the first will flash its fire into the latter, and thereby both clouds shall be made suddenly to deposite water. . the electrified particles of the first cloud close when they lose their fire; the particles of the other clouds close in receiving it: in both, they have thereby an opportunity of coalescing into drops.--the concussion, or jerk given to the air, contributes also to shake down the water, not only from those two clouds, but from others near them. hence the sudden fall of rain immediately after flashes of lightning. . to shew this by an easy experiment: take two round pieces of pasteboard two inches diameter; from the centre and circumference of each of them suspend by fine silk threads eighteen inches long, seven small balls of wood, or seven peas equal in goodness: so will the balls appending to each pasteboard, form equal equilateral triangles, one ball being in the centre, and six at equal distances from that, and from each other; and thus they represent particles of air. dip both sets in water, and some adhering to each ball, they will represent air loaded. dexterously electrify one set, and its ball will repel each other to a greater distance, enlarging the triangles. could the water supported by seven balls come into contact, it would form a drop or drops so heavy as to break the cohesion it had with the balls, and so fall. let the two sets then represent two clouds, the one a sea cloud electrified, the other a land cloud. bring them within the sphere of attraction, and they will draw towards each other, and you will see the separated balls close thus; the first electrified ball that comes near an unelectrified ball by attraction joins it, and gives it fire; instantly they separate, and each flies to another ball of its own party, one to give, the other to receive fire; and so it proceeds through both sets, but so quick as to be in a manner instantaneous. in the cohesion they shake off and drop their water, which represents rain. . thus when sea and land clouds would pass at too great a distance for the flash, they are attracted towards each other till within that distance; for the sphere of electrical attraction is far beyond the distance of flashing. . when a great number of clouds from the sea meet a number of clouds raised from the land, the electrical flashes appear to strike in different parts; and as the clouds are jostled and mixed by the winds, or brought near by the electrical attraction, they continue to give and receive flash after flash, till the electrical fire is equally diffused. . when the gun-barrel, (in electrical experiments) has but little electrical fire in it, you must approach it very near with your knuckle before you can draw a spark. give it more fire, and it will give a spark at a greater distance. two gun-barrels united, and as highly electrified, will give a spark at a still greater distance. but if two gun-barrels electrified will strike at two inches distance, and make a loud snap, to what a great distance may , acres of electrified cloud strike and give its fire, and how loud must be that crack? . it is a common thing to see clouds at different heights passing different ways, which shews different currents of air one under the other. as the air between the tropics is rarefied by the sun, it rises, the denser northern and southern air pressing into its place. the air so rarefied and forced up, passes northward and southward, and must descend in the polar regions, if it has no opportunity before, that the circulation may be carried on. . as currents of air, with the clouds therein, pass different ways, it is easy to conceive how the clouds, passing over each other, may attract each other, and so come near enough for the electrical stroke. and also how electrical clouds may be carried within land very far from the sea, before they have an opportunity to strike. . when the air, with its vapours raised from the ocean between the tropics, comes to descend in the polar regions, and to be in contact with the vapours arising there, the electrical fire they brought begins to be communicated, and is seen in clear nights, being first visible where it is first in motion, that is, where the contact begins, or in the most northern part; from thence the streams of light seem to shoot southerly, even up to the zenith of northern countries. but though the light seems to shoot from the north southerly, the progress of the fire is really from the south northerly, its motion beginning in the north, being the reason that it is there seen first. for the electrical fire is never visible but when in motion, and leaping from body to body, or from particle to particle through the air. when it passes through dense bodies it is unseen. when a wire makes part of the circle, in the explosion of the electrical phial, the fire, though in great quantity, passes in the wire invisibly; but in passing along a chain, it becomes visible as it leaps from link to link. in passing along leaf gilding it is visible: for the leaf-gold is full of pores; hold a leaf to the light and it appears like a net, and the fire is seen in its leaping over the vacancies.--and as when a long canal filled with still water is opened at one end, in order to be discharged, the motion of the water begins first near the opened end, and proceeds towards the close end, though the water itself moves from the close towards the opened end: so the electrical fire discharged into the polar regions, perhaps from a thousand leagues length of vaporised air, appears first where it is first in motion, _i. e._ in the most northern part, and the appearance proceeds southward, though the fire really moves northward. this is supposed to account for the _aurora borealis_. . when there is great heat on the land, in a particular region (the sun having shone on it perhaps several days, while the surrounding countries have been screened by clouds) the lower air is rarefied and rises, the cooler denser air above descends; the clouds in that air meet from all sides, and join over the heated place; and if some are electrified, others not, lightning and thunder succeed, and showers fall. hence thunder-gusts after heats, and cool air after gusts; the water and the clouds that bring it, coming from a higher and therefore a cooler region. . an electrical spark, drawn from an irregular body at some distance is scarcely ever strait, but shows crooked and waving in the air. so do the flashes of lightning; the clouds being very irregular bodies. . as electrified clouds pass over a country, high hills and high trees, lofty towers, spires, masts of ships, chimneys, &c. as so many prominencies and points, draw the electrical fire, and the whole cloud discharges there. . dangerous, therefore, is it to take shelter under a tree, during a thunder-gust. it has been fatal to many, both men and beasts. . it is safer to be in the open field for another reason. when the cloaths are wet, if a flash in its way to the ground should strike your head, it may run in the water over the surface of your body; whereas, if your cloaths were dry, it would go through the body, because the blood and other humours, containing so much water, are more ready conductors. hence a wet rat cannot be killed by the exploding electrical bottle, when a dry rat may[ ]. . common fire is in all bodies, more or less, as well as electrical fire. perhaps they may be different modifications of the same element; or they may be different elements. the latter is by some suspected. . if they are different things, yet they may and do subsist together in the same body. . when electrical fire strikes through a body, it acts upon the common fire contained in it, and puts that fire in motion; and if there be a sufficient quantity of each kind of fire, the body will be inflamed. . when the quantity of common fire in the body is small, the quantity of the electrical fire (or the electrical stroke) should be greater: if the quantity of common fire be great, less electrical fire suffices to produce the effect. . thus spirits must be heated before we can fire them by the electrical spark.[ ] if they are much heated, a small spark will do; if not, the spark must be greater. . till lately we could only fire warm vapours; but now we can burn hard dry rosin. and when we can procure greater electrical sparks, we may be able to fire not only unwarmed spirits, as lightning does, but even wood, by giving sufficient agitation to the common fire contained in it, as friction we know will do. . sulphureous and inflammable vapours, arising from the earth, are easily kindled by lightning. besides what arise from the earth, such vapours are sent out by stacks of moist hay, corn, or other vegetables, which heat and reek. wood, rotting in old trees or buildings, does the same. such are therefore easily and often fired. . metals are often melted by lightning, though perhaps not from heat in the lightning, nor altogether from agitated fire in the metals.--for as whatever body can insinuate itself between the particles of metal, and overcome the attraction by which they cohere (as sundry menstrua can) will make the solid become a fluid, as well as fire, yet without heating it: so the electrical fire, or lightning, creating a violent repulsion between the particles of the metal it passes through, the metal is fused. . if you would, by a violent fire, melt off the end of a nail, which is half driven into a door, the heat given the whole nail, before a part would melt, must burn the board it sticks in; and the melted part would burn the floor it dropped on. but if a sword can be melted in the scabbard, and money in a man's pocket by lightning, without burning either, it must be a cold fusion[ ]. . lightning rends some bodies. the electrical spark will strike a hole through a quire of strong paper. . if the source of lightning, assigned in this paper, be the true one, there should be little thunder heard at sea far from land. and accordingly some old sea-captains, of whom enquiry has been made, do affirm, that the fact agrees perfectly with the hypothesis; for that in crossing the great ocean, they seldom meet with thunder till they come into soundings; and that the islands far from the continent have very little of it. and a curious observer, who lived thirteen years at bermudas, says, there was less thunder there in that whole time than he has sometimes heard in a month at carolina. footnotes: [ ] an _electrified bumper_ is a small thin glass tumbler, nearly filled with wine, and electrified as the bottle. this when brought to the lips gives a shock, if the party be close shaved, and does not breath on the liquor.--april , . [ ] thunder-gusts are sudden storms of thunder and lightning, which are frequently of short duration, but sometimes produce mischievous effects. [ ] this was tried with a bottle, containing about a quart. it is since thought that one of the large glass jars, mentioned in these papers, might have killed him, though wet. [ ] we have since fired spirits without heating them, when the weather is warm. a little, poured into the palm of the hand, will be warmed sufficiently by the hand, if the spirit be well rectified. ether takes fire most readily. [ ] these facts, though related in several accounts, are now doubted; since it has been observed that the parts of a bell-wire which fell on the floor, being broken and partly melted by lightning, did actually burn into the boards. (see philosophical transactions, vol. li. part i.) and mr. kinnersley has found that a fine iron wire, melted by electricity, has had the same effect. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _introductory letter to some additional papers._ _philadelphia, july , ._ sir, as you first put us on electrical experiments, by sending to our library company a tube, with directions how to use it; and as our honorable proprietary enabled us to carry those experiments to a greater height, by his generous present of a complete electrical apparatus; it is fit that both should know, from time to time, what progress we make. it was in this view i wrote and sent you my former papers on this subject, desiring, that as i had not the honour of a direct correspondence with that bountiful benefactor to our library, they might be communicated to him through your hands. in the same view i write and send you this additional paper. if it happens to bring you nothing new, (which may well be, considering the number of ingenious men in europe, continually engaged in the same researches) at least it will shew, that the instruments put into our hands are not neglected; and that if no valuable discoveries are made by us, whatever the cause may be, it is not want of industry and application. i am, sir, your much obliged humble servant, b. franklin. _opinions and conjectures, concerning the properties and effects of the electrical matter, and the means of preserving buildings, ships, &c. from lightning, arising from experiments and observations made at philadelphia, .--golden fish.--extraction of effluvial virtues by electricity impracticable._ § . the electrical matter consists of particles extremely subtile since it can permeate common matter, even the densest metals, with such ease and freedom as not to receive any perceptible resistance. . if any one should doubt whether the electrical matter passes through the substance of bodies, or only over and along their surfaces, a shock from an electrified large glass jar, taken through his own body, will probably convince him. . electrical matter differs from common matter in this, that the parts of the latter mutually attract, those of the former mutually repel each other. hence the appearing divergency in a stream of electrified effluvia. . but though the particles of electrical matter do repel each other, they are strongly attracted by all other matter[ ]. . from these three things, the extreme subtilty of the electrical matter, the mutual repulsion of its parts, and the strong attraction between them and other matter, arise this effect, that, when a quantity of electrical matter is applied to a mass of common matter, of any bigness or length, within our observation (which hath not already got its quantity) it is immediately and equally diffused through the whole. . thus, common matter is a kind of spunge to the electrical fluid. and as a spunge would receive no water, if the parts of water were not smaller than the pores of the spunge; and even then but slowly, if there were not a mutual attraction between those parts and the parts of the spunge; and would still imbibe it faster, if the mutual attraction among the parts of the water did not impede, some force being required to separate them; and fastest, if, instead of attraction, there were a mutual repulsion among those parts, which would act in conjunction with the attraction of the spunge: so is the case between the electrical and common matter. . but in common matter there is (generally) as much of the electrical as it will contain within its substance. if more is added, it lies without upon the surface, and forms what we call an electrical atmosphere; and then the body is said to be electrified. . it is supposed, that all kinds of common matter do not attract and retain the electrical, with equal strength and force, for reasons to be given hereafter. and that those called electrics _per se_, as glass, &c. attract and retain it strongest, and contain the greatest quantity. . we know that the electrical fluid is _in_ common matter, because we can pump it _out_ by the globe or tube. we know that common matter has near as much as it can contain, because, when we add a little more to any portion of it, the additional quantity does not enter, but forms an electrical atmosphere. and we know that common matter has not (generally) more than it can contain, otherwise all loose portions of it would repel each other, as they constantly do when they have electric atmospheres. . the beneficial uses of this electric fluid in the creation we are not yet well acquainted with, though doubtless such there are, and those very considerable; but we may see some pernicious consequences that would attend a much greater proportion of it. for, had this globe we live on, as much of it in proportion as we can give to a globe of iron, wood, or the like, the particles of dust and other light matters that get loose from it, would, by virtue of their separate electrical atmospheres, not only repel each other, but be repelled from the earth, and not easily be brought to unite with it again; whence our air would continually be more and more clogged with foreign matter, and grow unfit for respiration. this affords another occasion of adoring that wisdom which has made all things by weight and measure! . if a piece of common matter be supposed entirely free from electrical matter, and a single particle of the latter be brought nigh, it will be attracted, and enter the body, and take place in the centre, or where the attraction is every way equal. if more particles enter, they take their places where the balance is equal between the attraction of the common matter, and their own mutual repulsion. it is supposed they form triangles, whose sides shorten as their number encreases; till the common matter has drawn in so many, that its whole power of compressing those triangles by attraction, is equal to their whole power of expanding themselves by repulsion; and then will such piece of matter receive no more. . when part of this natural proportion of electrical fluid is taken out of a piece of common matter, the triangles formed by the remainder, are supposed to widen by the mutual repulsion of the parts, until they occupy the whole piece. . when the quantity of electrical fluid, taken from a piece of common matter, is restored again, it enters, the expanded triangles, being again compressed till there is room for the whole. . to explain this: take two apples, or two balls of wood or other matter, each having its own natural quantity of the electrical fluid. suspend them by silk lines from the cieling. apply the wire of a well-charged vial, held in your hand, to one of them (a) _fig. _, and it will receive from the wire a quantity of the electrical fluid; but will not imbibe it, being already full. the fluid therefore will flow round its surface, and form an electrical atmosphere. bring a into contact with b, and half the electrical fluid is communicated, so that each has now an electrical atmosphere, and therefore they repel each other. take away these atmospheres, by touching the balls, and leave them in their natural state: then, having fixed a stick of sealing-wax to the middle of the vial to hold it by, apply the wire to a, at the same time the coating touches b. thus will a quantity of the electrical fluid be drawn out of b, and thrown on a. so that a will have a redundance of this fluid, which forms an atmosphere round, and b an exactly equal deficiency. now, bring these balls again into contact, and the electrical atmosphere will not be divided between a and b, into two smaller atmospheres as before; for b will drink up the whole atmosphere of a, and both will be found again in their natural state. . the form of the electrical atmosphere is that of the body it surrounds. this shape may be rendered visible in a still air, by raising a smoke from dry rosin dropt into a hot tea-spoon under the electrified body, which will be attracted, and spread itself equally on all sides, covering and concealing the body[ ]. and this form it takes, because it is attracted by all parts of the surface of the body, though it cannot enter the substance already replete. without this attraction, it would not remain round the body, but dissipate in the air. . the atmosphere of electrical particles surrounding an electrified sphere, is not more disposed to leave it, or more easily drawn off from any one part of the sphere than another, because it is equally attracted by every part. but that is not the case with bodies of any other figure. from a cube it is more easily drawn at the corners than at the plane sides, and so from the angles of a body of any other form, and still most easily from the angle that is most acute. thus, if a body shaped as a, b, c, d, e, in fig. . be electrified, or have an electrical atmosphere communicated to it, and we consider every side as a base on which the particles rest, and by which they are attracted, one may see, by imagining a line from a to f, and another from e to g, that the portion of the atmosphere included in f, a, e, g, has the line a, e, for its basis. so the portion of atmosphere included in h, a, b, i, has the line a b for its basis. and likewise the portion included in k, b, c, l, has b, c, to rest on; and so on the other side of the figure. now if you would draw off this atmosphere with any blunt smooth body, and approach the middle of the side a, b, you must come very near, before the force of your attracter exceeds the force or power with which that side holds its atmosphere. but there is a small portion between i, b, k, that has less of the surface to rest on, and to be attracted by, than the neighbouring portions, while at the same time there is a mutual repulsion between its particles, and the particles of those portions, therefore here you can get it with more ease, or at a greater distance. between f, a, h, there is a larger portion that has yet a less surface to rest on, and to attract it; here, therefore, you can get it away still more easily. but easiest of all between l, c, m, where the quantity is largest, and the surface to attract and keep it back the least. when you have drawn away one of these angular portions of the fluid, another succeeds in its place, from the nature of fluidity, and the mutual repulsion before-mentioned; and so the atmosphere continues flowing off at such angle, like a stream, till no more is remaining. the extremities of the portions of atmosphere over these angular parts, are likewise at a greater distance from the electrified body, as may be seen by the inspection of the above figure; the point of the atmosphere of the angle c, being much farther from c, than any other part of the atmosphere over the lines c, b, or b, a: and, besides the distance arising from the nature of the figure, where the attraction is less, the particles will naturally expand to a greater distance by their mutual repulsion. on these accounts we suppose electrified bodies discharge their atmospheres upon unelectrified bodies more easily, and at a greater distance from their angles and points than from their smooth sides.--those points will also discharge into the air, when the body has too great an electrical atmosphere, without bringing any non-electric near, to receive what is thrown off: for the air, though an electric _per se_, yet has always more or less water and other non-electric matters mixed with it: and these attract and receive what is so discharged. . but points have a property, by which they _draw on_ as well as _throw off_ the electrical fluid, at greater distances than blunt bodies can. that is, as the pointed part of an electrified body will discharge the atmosphere of that body, or communicate it farthest to another body, so the point of an unelectrified body will draw off the electrical atmosphere from an electrified body, farther than a blunter part of the same unelectrified body will do. thus, a pin held by the head, and the point presented to an electrified body, will draw off its atmosphere at a foot distance; where, if the head were presented instead of the point, no such effect would follow. to understand this, we may consider, that if a person standing on the floor would draw off the electrical atmosphere from an electrified body, an iron crow and a blunt knitting-needle held alternately in his hand, and presented for that purpose, do not draw with different forces in proportion to their different masses. for the man, and what he holds in his hand, be it large or small, are connected with the common mass of unelectrified matter; and the force with which he draws is the same in both cases, it consisting in the different proportion of electricity in the electrified body, and that common mass. but the force with which the electrified body retains its atmosphere by attracting it, is proportioned to the surface over which the particles are placed; _i. e._ four square inches of that surface retain their atmosphere with four times the force that one square inch retains its atmosphere. and as in plucking the hairs from the horse's tail, a degree of strength not sufficient to pull away a handful at once, could yet easily strip it hair by hair; so a blunt body presented cannot draw off a number of particles at once, but a pointed one, with no greater force, takes them away easily, particle by particle. . these explanations of the power and operation of points, when they first occurred to me, and while they first floated in my mind, appeared perfectly satisfactory; but now i have written them, and considered them more closely, i must own i have some doubts about them; yet, as i have at present nothing better to offer in their stead, i do not cross them out: for, even a bad solution read, and its faults discovered, has often given rise to a good one, in the mind of an ingenious reader. . nor is it of much importance to us to know the manner in which nature executes her laws; it is enough if we know the laws themselves. it is of real use to know that china left in the air unsupported will fall and break; but _how_ it comes to fall and _why_ it breaks are matters of speculation. it is a pleasure indeed to know them, but we can preserve our china without it. . thus in the present case, to know this power of points may possibly be of some use to mankind, though we should never be able to explain it. the following experiments, as well as those in my first paper, show this power. i have a large prime conductor, made of several thin sheets of clothier's pasteboard, formed into a tube, near ten feet long and a foot diameter. it is covered with dutch embossed-paper, almost totally gilt. this large metallic surface supports a much greater electrical atmosphere than a rod of iron of times the weight would do. it is suspended by silk lines, and when charged will strike, at near two inches distance, a pretty hard stroke, so as to make ones knuckle ach. let a person standing on the floor present the point of a needle at or more inches distance from it, and while the needle is so presented, the conductor cannot be charged, the point drawing off the fire as fast as it is thrown on by the electrical globe. let it be charged, and then present the point at the same distance, and it will suddenly be discharged. in the dark you may see the light on the point, when the experiment is made. and if the person holding the point stands upon wax, he will be electrified by receiving the fire at that distance. attempt to draw off the electricity with a blunt body, as a bolt of iron round at the end, and smooth (a silversmith's iron punch, inch thick, is what i use) and you must bring it within the distance of three inches before you can do it, and then it is done with a stroke and crack. as the pasteboard tube hangs loose on silk lines, when you approach it with the punch-iron, it likewise will move towards the punch, being attracted while it is charged; but if, at the same instant, a point be presented as before, it retires again, for the point discharges it. take a pair of large brass scales, of two or more feet beam, the cords of the scales being silk. suspend the beam by a pack-thread from the cieling, so that the bottom of the scales may be about a foot from the floor: the scales will move round in a circle by the untwisting of the pack-thread. set the iron punch on the end upon the floor, in such a place as that the scales may pass over it in making their circle: then electrify one scale, by applying the wire of a charged phial to it. as they move round, you see that scale draw nigher to the floor, and dip more when it comes over the punch; and if that be placed at a proper distance, the scale will snap and discharge its fire into it. but if a needle be stuck on the end of the punch, its point upwards, the scale, instead of drawing nigh to the punch, and snapping, discharges its fire silently through the point, and rises higher from the punch. nay, even if the needle be placed upon the floor near the punch, its point upwards, the end of the punch, though so much higher than the needle, will not attract the scale and receive its fire, for the needle will get it and convey it away, before it comes nigh enough for the punch to act. and this is constantly observable in these experiments, that the greater quantity of electricity on the pasteboard-tube, the farther it strikes or discharges its fire, and the point likewise will draw it off at a still greater distance. now if the fire of electricity and that of lightning be the same, as i have endeavoured to shew at large, in a former paper, this pasteboard tube and these scales may represent electrified clouds. if a tube of only ten feet long will strike and discharge its fire on the punch at two or three inches distance, an electrified cloud of perhaps , acres may strike and discharge on the earth at a proportionably greater distance. the horizontal motion of the scales over the floor, may represent the motion of the clouds over the earth; and the erect iron punch, a hill or high building; and then we see how electrified clouds passing over hills or high buildings at too great a height to strike, may be attracted lower till within their striking distance. and lastly, if a needle fixed on the punch with its point upright, or even on the floor below the punch, will draw the fire from the scale silently at a much greater than the striking distance, and so prevent its descending towards the punch; or if in its course it would have come nigh enough to strike, yet being first deprived of its fire it cannot, and the punch is thereby secured from the stroke; i say, if these things are so, may not the knowledge of this power of points be of use to mankind, in preserving houses, churches, ships, &c. from the stroke of lightning, by directing us to fix on the highest parts of those edifices, upright rods of iron made sharp as a needle, and gilt to prevent rusting, and from the foot of those rods a wire down the outside of the building into the ground, or down round one of the shrouds of a ship, and down her side till it reaches the water? would not these pointed rods probably draw the electrical fire silently out of a cloud before it came nigh enough to strike, and thereby secure us from that most sudden and terrible mischief? . to determine the question, whether the clouds that contain lightning are electrified or not, i would propose an experiment to be tried where it may be done conveniently. on the top of some high tower or steeple, place a kind of centry-box (as in fig. ) big enough to contain a man and an electrical stand. from the middle of the stand let an iron rod rise and pass bending out of the door, and then upright or feet, pointed very sharp at the end. if the electrical stand be kept clean and dry, a man standing on it, when such clouds are passing low, might be electrified and afford sparks, the rod drawing fire to him from a cloud. if any danger to the man should be apprehended (though i think there would be none) let him stand on the floor of his box, and now and then bring near to the rod the loop of a wire that has one end fastened to the leads, he holding it by a wax handle; so the sparks, if the rod is electrified, will strike from the rod to the wire, and not affect him. . before i leave this subject of lightning, i may mention some other similarities between the effects of that, and those of electricity. lightning has often been known to strike people blind. a pigeon that we struck dead to appearance by the electrical shock, recovering life, drooped about the yard several days, eat nothing, though crumbs were thrown to it, but declined and died. we did not think of its being deprived of sight; but afterwards a pullet, struck dead in like manner, being recovered by repeatedly blowing into its lungs, when set down on the floor, ran headlong against the wall, and on examination appeared perfectly blind. hence we concluded that the pigeon also had been absolutely blinded by the shock. the biggest animal we have yet killed, or tried to kill, with the electrical stroke, was a well-grown pullet. . reading in the ingenious dr. miles's account of the thunder-storm at stretham, the effect of the lightning in stripping off all the paint that had covered a gilt moulding of a pannel of wainscot, without hurting the rest of the paint, i had a mind to lay a coat of paint over the filletting of gold on the cover of a book, and try the effect of a strong electrical flash sent through that gold from a charged sheet of glass. but having no paint at hand, i pasted a narrow strip of paper over it; and when dry, sent the flash through the gilding, by which the paper was torn off from end to end, with such force, that it was broke in several places, and in others brought away part of the grain of the turky-leather in which it was bound; and convinced me, that had it been painted, the paint would have been stript off in the same manner with that on the wainscot at stretham. . lightning melts metals, and i hinted in my paper on that subject, that i suspected it to be a cold fusion; i do not mean a fusion by force of cold, but a fusion without heat[ ]. we have also melted gold, silver, and copper, in small quantities, by the electrical flash. the manner is this: take leaf-gold, leaf-silver, or leaf-gilt copper, commonly called leaf-brass, or dutch gold; cut off from the leaf long narrow strips, the breadth of a straw. place one of these strips between two strips of smooth glass that are about the width of your finger. if one strip of gold, the length of the leaf, be not long enough for the glass, add another to the end of it, so that you may have a little part hanging out loose at each end of the glass. bind the pieces of glass together from end to end with strong silk thread; then place it so as to be part of an electrical circuit, (the ends of gold hanging out being of use to join with the other parts of the circuit) and send the flash through it, from a large electrified jar or sheet of glass. then if your strips of glass remain whole, you will see that the gold is missing in several places, and instead of it a metallic stain on both the glasses; the stains on the upper and under glass exactly similar in the minutest stroke, as may be seen by holding them to the light; the metal appeared to have been not only melted, but even vitrified, or otherwise so driven into the pores of the glass, as to be protected by it from the action of the strongest _aqua fortis_, or _aqua regia_. i send you enclosed two little pieces of glass with these metallic stains upon them, which cannot be removed without taking part of the glass with them. sometimes the stain spreads a little wider than the breadth of the leaf, and looks brighter at the edge, as by inspecting closely you may observe in these. sometimes the glass breaks to pieces; once the upper glass broke into a thousand pieces, looking like coarse salt. the pieces i send you were stained with dutch gold. true gold makes a darker stain, somewhat reddish; silver, a greenish stain. we once took two pieces of thick looking-glass, as broad as a gunter's scale, and six inches long; and placing leaf-gold between them, put them between two smoothly-plained pieces of wood, and fixed them tight in a book-binder's small press; yet though they were so closely confined, the force of the electrical shock shivered the glass into many pieces. the gold was melted, and stained into the glass, as usual. the circumstances of the breaking of the glass differ much in making the experiment, and sometimes it does not break at all: but this is constant, that the stains in the upper and under pieces are exact counterparts of each other. and though i have taken up the pieces of glass between my fingers immediately after this melting, i never could perceive the least warmth in them. . in one of my former papers, i mentioned, that gilding on a book, though at first it communicated the shock perfectly well, yet failed after a few experiments, which we could not account for. we have since found that one strong shock breaks the continuity of the gold in the filletting, and makes it look rather like dust of gold, abundance of its parts being broken and driven off; and it will seldom conduct above one strong shock. perhaps this may be the reason: when there is not a perfect continuity in the circuit, the fire must leap over the vacancies: there is a certain distance which it is able to leap over according to its strength; if a number of small vacancies, though each be very minute, taken together exceed that distance, it cannot leap over them, and so the shock is prevented. . from the before-mentioned law of electricity, that points as they are more or less acute, draw on and throw off the electrical fluid with more or less power, and at greater or less distances, and in larger or smaller quantities in the same time, we may see how to account for the situation of the leaf of gold suspended between two plates, the upper one continually electrified, the under one in a person's hand standing on the floor. when the upper plate is electrified, the leaf is attracted, and raised towards it, and would fly to that plate, were it not for its own points. the corner that happens to be uppermost when the leaf is rising, being a sharp point, from the extreme thinness of the gold, draws and receives at a distance a sufficient quantity of the electric fluid to give itself an electric atmosphere, by which its progress to the upper plate is stopped, and it begins to be repelled from that plate, and would be driven back to the under plate, but that its lowest corner is likewise a point, and throws off or discharges the overplus of the leaf's atmosphere, as fast as the upper corner draws it on. were these two points perfectly equal in acuteness, the leaf would take place exactly in the middle space, for its weight is a trifle compared to the power acting on it: but it is generally nearest the unelectrified plate, because, when the leaf is offered to the electrified plate, at a distance, the sharpest point is commonly first affected and raised towards it; so _that_ point, from its greater acuteness, receiving the fluid faster than its opposite can discharge it at equal distances, it retires from the electrified plate, and draws nearer to the unelectrified plate, till it comes to a distance where the discharge can be exactly equal to the receipt, the latter being lessened, and the former encreased; and there it remains as long as the globe continues to supply fresh electrical matter. this will appear plain, when the difference of acuteness in the corners is made very great. cut a piece of dutch gold, (which is fittest for these experiments on account of its great strength) into the form of fig. , the upper corner a right angle, the two next obtuse angles, and the lowest a very acute one; and bring this on your plate under the electrified plate, in such a manner as that the right-angled part may be first raised (which is done by covering the acute part with the hollow of your hand) and you will see this leaf take place much nearer to the upper than the under plate; because without being nearer, it cannot receive so fast at its right-angled point, as it can discharge at its acute one. turn this leaf with the acute part uppermost, and then it takes place nearest the unelectrified plate; because, otherwise, it receives faster at its acute point, than it can discharge at its right-angled one. thus the difference of distance is always proportioned to the difference of acuteness. take care in cutting your leaf, to leave no little ragged particles on the edges, which sometimes form points where you would not have them. you may make this figure so acute below, and blunt above, as to need no under plate, it discharging fast enough into the air. when it is made narrower, as the figure between the pricked lines, we call it the _golden fish_, from its manner of acting. for if you take it by the tail, and hold it at a foot or greater horizontal distance from the prime conductor, it will, when let go, fly to it with a brisk but wavering motion, like that of an eel through the water; it will then take place under the prime conductor, at perhaps a quarter or half an inch distance, and keep a continual shaking of its tail like a fish, so that it seems animated. turn its tail towards the prime conductor, and then it flies to your finger, and seems to nibble it. and if you hold a plate under it at six or eight inches distance, and cease turning the globe when the electrical atmosphere of the conductor grows small, it will descend to the plate and swim back again several times with the same fish-like motion, greatly to the entertainment of spectators. by a little practice in blunting or sharpening the heads or tails of these figures, you may make them take place as desired, nearer or farther from the electrified plate. . it is said in section , of this paper, that all kinds of common matter are supposed not to attract the electrical fluid with equal strength; and that those called electrics _per se_, as glass, &c. attract and retain it strongest, and contain the greatest quantity. this latter position may seem a paradox to some, being contrary to the hitherto received opinion; and therefore i shall now endeavour to explain it. . in order to this, let it first be considered, _that we cannot by any means we are yet acquainted with, force the electrical fluid through glass_. i know it is commonly thought that it easily pervades glass; and the experiment of a feather suspended by a thread, in a bottle hermetically sealed, yet moved by bringing a rubbed tube near the outside of the bottle, is alleged to prove it. but, if the electrical fluid so easily pervades glass, how does the phial become _charged_ (as we term it) when we hold it in our hands? would not the fire, thrown in by the wire, pass through to our hands, and so escape into the floor? would not the bottle in that case be left just as we found it, uncharged, as we know a metal bottle so attempted to be charged would be? indeed, if there be the least crack, the minutest solution of continuity in the glass, though it remains so tight that nothing else we know of will pass, yet the extremely subtile electric fluid flies through such a crack with the greatest freedom, and such a bottle we know can never be charged: what then makes the difference between such a bottle and one that is sound, but this, that the fluid can pass through the one, and not through the other[ ]? . it is true, there is an experiment that at first sight would be apt to satisfy a slight observer, that the fire, thrown into the bottle by the wire, does really pass through the glass. it is this: place the bottle on a glass stand, under the prime conductor, suspend a bullet by a chain from the prime conductor, till it comes within a quarter of an inch right over the wire of the bottle; place your knuckle on the glass stand, at just the same distance from the coating of the bottle, as the bullet is from its wire. now let the globe be turned, and you see a spark strike from the bullet to the wire of the bottle, and the same instant you see and feel an exactly equal spark striking from the coating on your knuckle, and so on, spark for spark. this looks as if the whole received by the bottle was again discharged from it. and yet the bottle by this means is charged[ ]! and therefore the fire that thus leaves the bottle, though the same in quantity, cannot be the very same fire that entered at the wire, for if it were, the bottle would remain uncharged. . if the fire that so leaves the bottle be not the same that is thrown in through the wire, it must be fire that subsisted in the bottle (that is, in the glass of the bottle) before the operation began. . if so, there must be a great quantity in glass, because a great quantity is thus discharged, even from very thin glass. . that this electrical fluid or fire is strongly attracted by glass, we know from the quickness and violence with which it is resumed by the part that had been deprived of it, when there is an opportunity. and by this, that we cannot from a mass of glass, draw a quantity of electric fire, or electrify the whole mass _minus_, as we can a mass of metal. we cannot lessen or increase its whole quantity, for the quantity it has it holds; and it has as much as it can hold. its pores are filled with it as full as the mutual repellency of the particles will admit; and what is already in, refuses, or strongly repels, any additional quantity. nor have we any way of moving the electrical fluid in glass, but one; that is, by covering part of the two surfaces of thin glass with non-electrics, and then throwing an additional quantity of this fluid on one surface, which spreading in the non-electric, and being bound by it to that surface, acts by its repelling force on the particles of the electrical fluid contained in the other surface, and drives them out of the glass into the non-electric on that side from whence they are discharged, and then those added on the charged side can enter. but when this is done, there is no more in the glass, nor less than before, just as much having left it on one side as it received on the other. . i feel a want of terms here, and doubt much whether i shall be able to make this part intelligible. by the word _surface_, in this case, i do not mean mere length and breadth without thickness; but when i speak of the upper or under surface of a piece of glass, the outer or inner surface of the phial, i mean length, breadth, and half the thickness, and beg the favour of being so understood. now i suppose, that glass in its first principles, and in the furnace, has no more of this electrical fluid than other common matter: that when it is blown, as it cools, and the particles of common fire leave it, its pores become a vacuum: that the component parts of glass are extremely small and fine, i guess from its never showing a rough face when it breaks, but always a polish; and from the smallness of its particles i suppose the pores between them must be exceedingly small, which is the reason that aqua-fortis, nor any other menstruum we have, can enter to separate them and dissolve the substance; nor is any fluid we know of, fine enough to enter, except common fire, and the electric fluid. now the departing fire, leaving a vacuum, as aforesaid, between these pores, which air nor water are fine enough to enter and fill, the electric fluid (which is every where ready in what we call the non-electrics, and in the non-electric mixtures that are in the air) is attracted in; yet does not become fixed with the substance of the glass, but subsists there as water in a porous stone, retained only by the attraction of the fixed parts, itself still loose and a fluid. but i suppose farther, that in the cooling of the glass, its texture becomes closest in the middle, and forms a kind of partition, in which the pores are so narrow, that the particles of the electrical fluid, which enter both surfaces at the same time, cannot go through, or pass and repass from one surface to the other, and so mix together; yet, though the particles of electric fluid, imbibed by each surface, cannot themselves pass through to those of the other, their repellency can, and by this means they act on one another. the particles of the electric fluid have a mutual repellency, but by the power of attraction in the glass they are condensed or forced nearer to each other. when the glass has received, and, by its attraction, forced closer together so much of this electric fluid, as that the power of attracting and condensing in the one, is equal to the power of expansion in the other, it can imbibe no more, and that remains its constant whole quantity; but each surface would receive more, if the repellency of what is in the opposite surface did not resist its entrance. the quantities of this fluid in each surface being equal, their repelling action on each other is equal; and therefore those of one surface cannot drive out those of the other; but, if a greater quantity is forced into one surface than the glass would naturally draw in, this increases the repelling power on that side, and overpowering the attraction on the other, drives out part of the fluid that had been imbibed by that surface, if there be any non-electric ready to receive it: such there is in all cases where glass is electrified to give a shock. the surface that has been thus emptied, by having its electrical fluid driven out, resumes again an equal quantity with violence, as soon as the glass has an opportunity to discharge that over quantity more than it could retain by attraction in its other surface, by the additional repellency of which the vacuum had been occasioned. for experiments favouring (if i may not say confirming) this hypothesis, i must, to avoid repetition, beg leave to refer you back to what is said of the electrical phial in my former papers. . let us now see how it will account for several other appearances.--glass, a body extremely elastic, (and perhaps its elasticity may be owing in some degree to the subsisting of so great a quantity of this repelling fluid in its pores) must, when rubbed, have its rubbed surface somewhat stretched, or its solid parts drawn a little farther asunder, so that the vacancies in which the electrical fluid resides, become larger, affording room for more of that fluid, which is immediately attracted into it from the cushion or hand rubbing, they being supplied from the common stock. but the instant the parts of the glass so opened and filled, have passed the friction, they close again, and force the additional quantity out upon the surface, where it must rest till that part comes round to the cushion again, unless some non-electric (as the prime conductor, first presents to receive it[ ]). but if the inside of the globe be lined with a non-electric, the additional repellency of the electrical fluid, thus collected by friction on the rubbed part of the globe's outer surface, drives an equal quantity out of the inner surface into that non-electric lining, which receiving it, and carrying it away from the rubbed part into the common mass, through the axis of the globe, and frame of the machine, the new collected electrical fluid can enter and remain in the outer surface, and none of it (or a very little) will be received by the prime conductor. as this charged part of the globe comes round to the cushion again, the outer surface delivers its overplus fire into the cushion, the opposite inner surface receiving at the same time an equal quantity from the floor. every electrician knows that a globe wet within will afford little or no fire, but the reason has not before been attempted to be given, that i know of. . so if a tube lined with a non-electric be rubbed[ ], little or no fire is obtained from it; what is collected from the hand, in the downward rubbing stroke, entering the pores of the glass, and driving an equal quantity out of the inner surface into the non-electric lining: and the hand in passing up to take a second stroke, takes out again what had been thrown into the outer surface, and then the inner surface receives back again what it had given to the non-electric lining. thus the particles of electrical fluid belonging to the inside surface go in and out of their pores every stroke given to the tube. put a wire into the tube, the inward end in contact with the non-electric lining, so it will represent the leyden bottle. let a second person touch the wire while you rub, and the fire driven out of the inward surface when you give the stroke, will pass through him into the common mass, and return through him when the inner surface resumes its quantity, and therefore this new kind of leyden bottle cannot be so charged. but thus it may: after every stroke, before you pass your hand up to make another, let a second person apply his finger to the wire, take the spark, and then withdraw his finger; and so on till he has drawn a number of sparks; thus will the inner surface be exhausted, and the outer surface charged; then wrap a sheet of gilt paper close round the outer surface, and grasping it in your hand you may receive a shock by applying the finger of the other hand to the wire: for now the vacant pores in the inner surface resume their quantity, and the overcharged pores in the outer surface discharge that overplus; the equilibrium being restored through your body, which could not be restored through the glass[ ]. if the tube be exhausted of air, a non-electric lining, in contact with the wire, is not necessary; for _in vacuo_ the electrical fire will fly freely from the inner surface, without a non-electric conductor: but air resists in motion; for being itself an electric _per se_, it does not attract it, having already its quantity. so the air never draws off an electric atmosphere from any body, but in proportion to the non-electrics mixed with it: it rather keeps such an atmosphere confined, which, from the mutual repulsion of its particles, tends to dissipation, and would immediately dissipate _in vacuo_.--and thus the experiment of the feather inclosed in a glass vessel hermetically sealed, but moving on the approach of the rubbed tube, is explained. when an additional quantity of the electrical fluid is applied to the side of the vessel by the atmosphere of the tube, a quantity is repelled and driven out of the inner surface of that side into the vessel, and there affects the feather, returning again into its pores, when the tube with its atmosphere is withdrawn; not that the particles of that atmosphere did themselves pass through the glass to the feather. and every other appearance i have yet seen, in which glass and electricity are concerned, are, i think, explained with equal ease by the same hypothesis. yet, perhaps, it may not be a true one, and i shall be obliged to him that affords me a better. . thus i take the difference between non-electrics, and glass, an electric _per se_, to consist in these two particulars. st, that a non-electric easily suffers a change in the quantity of the electric fluid it contains. you may lessen its whole quantity, by drawing out a part, which the whole body will again resume; but of glass you can only lessen the quantity contained in one of its surfaces; and not that, but by supplying an equal quantity at the same time to the other surface: so that the whole glass may always have the same quantity in the two surfaces, their two different quantities being added together. and this can only be done in glass that is thin; beyond a certain thickness we have yet no power that can make this change. and, dly, that the electric fire freely removes from place to place, in and through the substance of a non-electric, but not so through the substance of glass. if you offer a quantity to one end of a long rod of metal, it receives it, and when it enters, every particle that was before in the rod pushes its neighbour quite to the farther end, where the overplus is discharged; and this instantaneously where the rod is part of the circle in the experiment of the shock. but glass, from the smallness of its pores, or stronger attraction of what it contains, refuses to admit so free a motion: a glass rod will not conduct a shock, nor will the thinnest glass suffer any particle entering one of its surfaces to pass through to the other. . hence we see the impossibility of success in the experiments proposed, to draw out the effluvial virtues of a non-electric, as cinnamon, for instance, and mixing them with the electric fluid, to convey them with that into the body, by including it in the globe, and then applying friction, &c. for though the effluvia of cinnamon, and the electric fluid should mix within the globe, they would never come out together through the pores of the glass, and so go to the prime conductor; for the electric fluid itself cannot come through; and the prime conductor is always supplied from the cushion, and that from the floor. and besides, when the globe is filled with cinnamon, or other non-electric, no electric fluid can be obtained from its outer surface, for the reason before-mentioned. i have tried another way, which i thought more likely to obtain a mixture of the electric and other effluvia together, if such a mixture had been possible. i placed a glass plate under my cushion, to cut off the communication between the cushion and floor; then brought a small chain from the cushion into a glass of oil of turpentine, and carried another chain from the oil of turpentine to the floor, taking care that the chain from the cushion to the glass, touched no part of the frame of the machine. another chain was fixed to the prime conductor, and held in the hand of a person to be electrified. the ends of the two chains in the glass were near an inch distant from each other, the oil of turpentine between. now the globe being turned could draw no fire from the floor through the machine, the communication that way being cut off by the thick glass plate under the cushion: it must then draw it through the chains whose ends were dipped in the oil of turpentine. and as the oil of turpentine, being an electric _per se_, would not conduct, what came up from the floor was obliged to jump from the end of one chain to the end of the other, through the substance of that oil, which we could see in large sparks, and so it had a fair opportunity of seizing some of the finest particles of the oil in its passage, and carrying them off with it: but no such effect followed, nor could i perceive the least difference in the smell of the electric effluvia thus collected, from what it has when collected otherwise, nor does it otherwise affect the body of a person electrised. i likewise put into a phial, instead of water, a strong purgative liquid, and then charged the phial, and took repeated shocks from it, in which case every particle of the electrical fluid must, before it went through my body, have first gone through the liquid when the phial is charging, and returned through it when discharging, yet no other effect followed than if it had been charged with water. i have also smelt the electric fire when drawn through gold, silver, copper, lead, iron, wood, and the human body, and could perceive no difference: the odour is always the same, where the spark does not burn what it strikes; and therefore i imagine it does not take that smell from any quality of the bodies it passes through. and indeed, as that smell so readily leaves the electric matter, and adheres to the knuckle receiving the sparks, and to other things; i suspect that it never was connected with it, but arises instantaneously from something in the air acted upon by it. for if it was fine enough to come with the electric fluid through the body of one person, why should it stop on the skin of another? but i shall never have done, if i tell you all my conjectures, thoughts, and imaginations on the nature and operations of this electric fluid, and relate the variety of little experiments we have tried. i have already made this paper too long, for which i must crave pardon, not having now time to abridge it. i shall only add, that as it has been observed here that spirits will fire by the electric spark in the summer time, without heating them, when fahrenheit's thermometer is above ; so when colder, if the operator puts a small flat bottle of spirits in his bosom, or a close pocket, with the spoon, some little time before he uses them, the heat of his body will communicate warmth more than sufficient for the purpose. additional experiments: _proving that the leyden bottle has no more electrical fire in it when charged, than before: nor less when discharged: that, in discharging, the fire does not issue from the wire and the coating at the same time, as some have thought, but that the coating always receives what is discharged by the wire, or an equal quantity; the outer surface being always in a negative state of electricity, when the inner surface is in a positive state._ place a thick plate of glass under the rubbing cushion, to cut off the communication of electrical fire from the floor to the cushion; then if there be no fine points or hairy threads sticking out from the cushion, or from the parts of the machine opposite to the cushion, (of which you must be careful) you can get but a few sparks from the prime conductor, which are all the cushion will part with. hang a phial then on the prime conductor, and it will not charge though you hold it by the coating.--but, form a communication by a chain from the coating to the cushion, and the phial will charge. for the globe then draws the electric fire out of the outside surface of the phial and forces it through the prime conductor and wire of the phial into the inside surface. thus the bottle is charged with its own fire, no other being to be had while the glass plate is under the cushion. hang two cork balls by flaxen threads to the prime conductor; then touch the coating of the bottle, and they will be electrified and recede from each other. for just as much fire as you give the coating, so much is discharged through the wire upon the prime conductor, whence the cork balls receive an electrical atmosphere.--but, take a wire bent in the form of a c, with a stick of wax fixed to the outside of the curve, to hold it by; and apply one end of this wire to the coating, and the other at the same time to the prime conductor, the phial will be discharged; and if the balls are not electrified before the discharge, neither will they appear to be so after the discharge, for they will not repel each other. if the phial really exploded at both ends, and discharged fire from both coating and wire, the balls would be _more_ electrified, and recede _farther_; for none of the fire can escape, the wax handle preventing. but if the fire with which the inside surface is surcharged be so much precisely as is wanted by the outside surface, it will pass round through the wire fixed to the wax handle, restore the equilibrium in the glass, and make no alteration in the state of the prime conductor. accordingly we find, that if the prime conductor be electrified, and the cork balls in a state of repellency before the bottle is discharged, they continue so afterwards. if not, they are not electrified by that discharge. footnotes: [ ] see the ingenious essays on electricity, in the transactions, by mr. ellicot. [ ] see page . [ ] see note in page . [ ] see the first sixteen sections of the former paper, called _farther experiments_, &c. [ ] see sect. , of _farther experiments_, &c. [ ] in the dark the electric fluid may be seen on the cushion in two semi-circles or half-moons, one on the fore-part, the other on the back part of the cushion, just where the globe and cushion separate. in the fore crescent the fire is passing out of the cushion into the glass; in the other it is leaving the glass, and returning into the back part of the cushion. when the prime conductor is applied to take it off the glass, the back crescent disappears. [ ] gilt paper, with the gilt face next the glass, does well [ ] see _further experiments_, sect. . to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _accumulation of the electrical fire proved to be in the electrified glass.--effect of lightning on the needle of compasses, explained.--gunpowder fired by the electric flame._ _philadelphia, july , ._ sir, mr. watson, i believe, wrote his observations on my last paper in haste, without having first well considered the experiments related §. [ ], which still appear to me decisive in the question,--_whether the accumulation of the electrical fire be in the electrified glass, or in the non-electric matter connected with the glass?_ and to demonstrate that it is really in the glass. as to the experiment that ingenious gentleman mentions, and which he thinks conclusive on the other side, i persuade myself he will change his opinion of it, when he considers, that as one person applying the wire of the charged bottle to warm spirits, in a spoon held by another person, both standing on the floor, will fire the spirits, and yet such firing will not determine whether the accumulation was in the glass or the non-electric; so the placing another person between them, standing on wax, with a bason in his hand, into which the water from the phial is poured, _while he at the instant of pouring_ presents a finger of his other hand to the spirits, does not at all alter the case; the stream from the phial, the side of the bason, with the arms and body of the person on the wax, being all together but as one long wire, reaching from the internal surface of the phial to the spirits. _june , ._ in capt. waddell's account of the effects of lightning on his ship, i could not but take notice of the large comazants (as he calls them) that settled on the spintles at the top-mast heads, and burnt like very large torches (before the stroke.) according to my opinion, the electrical fire was then drawing off, as by points, from the cloud; the largeness of the flame betokening the great quantity of electricity in the cloud: and had there been a good wire communication from the spintle heads to the sea, that could have conducted more freely than tarred ropes, or masts of turpentine wood, i imagine there would either have been no stroke, or, if a stroke, the wire would have conducted it all into the sea without damage to the ship. his compasses lost the virtue of the load-stone, or the poles were reversed; the north point turning to the south.--by electricity we have (_here_ at _philadelphia_) frequently given polarity to needles, and reversed it at pleasure. mr. wilson, at london, tried it on too large masses, and with too small force. a shock from four large glass jars, sent through a fine sewing-needle, gives it polarity, and it will traverse when laid on water.--if the needle, when struck, lies east and west, the end entered by the electric blast points north.--if it lies north and south, the end that lay towards the north will continue to point north when placed on water, whether the fire entered at that end, or at the contrary end. the polarity given is strongest when the needle is struck lying north and south, weakest when lying east and west; perhaps if the force was still greater, the south end, entered by the fire (when the needle lies north and south) might become the north, otherwise it puzzles us to account for the inverting of compasses by lightning; since their needles must always be found in that situation, and by our little experiments, whether the blast entered the north and went out at the south end of the needle, or the contrary, still the end that lay to the north should continue to point north. in these experiments the ends of the needles are sometimes finely blued like a watch-spring by the electric flame.--this colour given by the flash from two jars only, will wipe off, but four jars fix it, and frequently melt the needles. i send you some that have had their heads and points melted off by our mimic lightning; and a pin that had its point melted off, and some part of its head and neck run. sometimes the surface on the body of the needle is also run, and appears blistered when examined by a magnifying glass: the jars i make use off hold seven or eight gallons, and are coated and lined with tin foil; each of them takes a thousand turns[ ] of a globe nine inches diameter to charge it. i send you two specimens of tin-foil melted between glass, by the force of two jars only. i have not heard that any of your european electricians have ever been able to fire gun-powder by the electric flame. we do it here in this manner:--a small cartridge is filled with dry powder, hard rammed, so as to bruise some of the grains; two pointed wires are then thrust in, one at each end, the points approaching each other in the middle of the cartridge till within the distance of half an inch; then, the cartridge being placed in the circuit, when the four jars are discharged, the electric flame leaping from the point of one wire to the point of the other, within the cartridge amongst the powder, _fires it_, and the explosion of the powder is at the same instant with the crack of the discharge. your's, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] see the paper entitled, _farther experiments, &c._ [ ] the cushion being afterwards covered with a long flap of buckskin, which might cling to the globe; and care being taken to keep that flap of a due temperature, between too dry and too moist, we found so much more of the electric fluid was obtained, as that turns were sufficient. . to c. c[ ]. esq. at new-york, communicated to mr. collinson. _unlimited nature of the electric force._ _philadelphia, ._ sir, i inclose you answers, such as my present hurry of business will permit me to make, to the principal queries contained in your's of the th 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 is 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 to 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 eight or nine gallons each, two of which charged 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 humourously says, had only learnt to thunder and lighten a little round the head of a cabbage. i am, with sincere respect, your most obliged humble servant, b. franklin. queries and answers referred to in the foregoing letter. _the terms, electric per se, and non-electric, improper.--new relation between metals and water.--effects of air in electrical experiments.--experiment for discovering more of the qualities of the electric fluid._ _query_, wherein consists the difference between an _electric_ and a _non-electric_ body? _answer._ the terms electric _per se_, and non-electric, were first used to distinguish bodies, on a mistaken supposition that those called electrics _per se_, alone contained electric matter in their substance, which was capable of being excited by friction, and of being produced or drawn from them, and communicated to those called non-electrics, supposed to be destitute of it: for the glass, &c. being rubbed, discovered signs of having it, by snapping to the finger, attracting, repelling, &c. and could communicate those signs to metals and water.--afterwards it was found, that rubbing of glass would not produce the electric matter, unless a communication was preserved between the rubber and the floor; and subsequent experiments proved that the electric matter was really drawn from those bodies that at first were thought to have none in them. then it was doubted whether glass, and other bodies called _electrics per se_, had really any electric matter in them, since they apparently afforded none but what they first extracted from those which had been called non-electrics. but some of my experiments show, that glass contains it in great quantity, and i now suspect it to be pretty equally diffused in all the matter of this terraqueous globe. if so, the terms _electric per se_, and _non-electric_, should be laid aside as improper: and (the only difference being this, that some bodies will conduct electric matter, and others will not) the terms _conductor_ and _non-conductor_ may supply their place. if any portion of electric matter is applied to a piece of conducting matter, it penetrates and flows through it, or spreads equally on its surface; if applied to a piece of non-conducting matter, it will do neither. perfect conductors of electric matter are only metals and water. other bodies conducting only as they contain a mixture of those; without more or less of which they will not conduct at all[ ]. this (by the way) shews a new relation between metals and water heretofore unknown. to illustrate this by a comparison, which, however, can only give a faint resemblance. electric matter passes through conductors as water passes through a porous stone, or spreads on their surfaces as water spreads on a wet stone; but when applied to non-conductors, it is like water dropt on a greasy stone, it neither penetrates, passes through, nor spreads on the surface, but remains in drops where it falls. see farther on this head, in my last printed piece, entitled, _opinions and conjectures, &c._ . _query_, what are the effects of air in electrical experiments? _answer._ all i have hitherto observed are these. moist air receives and conducts the electrical matter in proportion to its moisture, quite dry air not at all: air is therefore to be classed with the non-conductors. dry air assists in confining the electrical atmosphere to the body it surrounds, and prevents its dissipating: for in vacuo it quits easily, and points operate stronger, _i. e._ they throw off or attract the electrical matter more freely, and at greater distances; so that air intervening obstructs its passage from body to body in some degree. a clean electrical phial and wire, containing air instead of water, will not be charged nor give a shock, any more than if it was filled with powder of glass; but exhausted of air, it operates as well as if filled with water. yet an electric atmosphere and air do not seem to exclude each other, for we breathe freely in such an atmosphere, and dry air will blow through it without displacing or driving it away. i question whether the strongest dry north-wester[ ] would dissipate it. i once electrified a large cork-ball at the end of a silk thread three feet long, the other end of which i held in my fingers, and whirl'd it round, like a sling one hundred times, in the air, with the swiftest motion i could possibly give it, yet it retained its electric atmosphere, though it must have passed through eight hundred yards of air, allowing my arm in giving the motion to add a foot to the semi-diameter of the circle.--by quite dry air, i mean the dryest we have: for perhaps we never have any perfectly free from moisture. an electrical atmosphere raised round a thick wire, inserted in a phial of air, drives out none of the air, nor on withdrawing that atmosphere will any air rush in, as i have found by a curious experiment[ ] accurately made, whence we concluded that the air's elasticity was not affected thereby. an experiment towards discovering more of the qualities of the electric fluid. from the prime conductor, hang a bullet by a wire hook; under the bullet, at half an inch distance, place a bright piece of silver to receive the sparks; then let the wheel be turned, and in a few minutes, (if the repeated sparks continually strike in the same spot) the silver will receive a blue stain, nearly the colour of a watch spring. a bright piece of iron will also be spotted, but not with that colour; it rather seems corroded. on gold, brass, or tin, i have not perceived it makes any impression. but the spots on the silver or iron will be the same, whether the bullet be lead, brass, gold, or silver. on a silver bullet there will also appear a small spot, as well as on the plate below it. footnotes: [ ] cadwallader colden, who was afterwards lieutenant-governor of new-york. _editor._ [ ] this proposition is since found to be too general; mr. wilson having discovered that melted wax and rosin will also conduct. [ ] a cold dry wind of north america. [ ] the experiment here mentioned was thus made. an empty phial was stopped with a cork. through the cork passed a thick wire, as usual in the leyden experiment, which wire almost reached the bottom. through another part of the cork passed one leg of a small glass syphon, the other leg on the outside came down almost to the bottom of the phial. this phial was first held a short time in the hand, which, warming, and of course rarefying the air within, drove a small part of it out through the syphon. then a little red ink in a tea-spoon was applied to the opening of the outer leg of the syphon; so that as the air within cooled, a little of the ink might rise in that leg. when the air within the bottle came to be of the same temperature of that without, the drop of red ink would rest in a certain part of the leg. but the warmth of a finger applied to the phial would cause that drop to descend, as the least outward coolness applied would make it ascend. when it had found its situation, and was at rest, the wire was electrified by a communication from the prime conductor. this was supposed to give an electric atmosphere to the wire within the bottle, which might likewise rarefy the included air, and of course depress the drop of ink in the syphon. but no such effect followed. to c. c[ ]. esq. at new york. _mistake, that only metals and water were conductors, rectified.--supposition of a region of electric fire above our atmosphere.--theorem concerning light.--poke-weed a cure for cancers._ read at the royal society, nov. , . _philadelphia, april , ._ sir, in considering your favour of the th past, i recollected my having wrote you answers to some queries concerning the difference between electrics _per se_, and non-electrics, and the effects of air in electrical experiments, which, i apprehend, you may not have received. the date i have forgotten. we have been used to call those bodies electrics _per se_, which would not conduct the electric fluid: we once imagined that only such bodies contained that fluid; afterwards that they had none of it, and only educed it from other bodies: but further experiments shewed our mistake. it is to be found in all matter we know of; and the distinctions of electrics _per se_, and non-electrics, should now be dropt as improper, and that of _conductors_ and _non-conductors_ assumed in its place, as i mentioned in those answers. i do not remember any experiment by which it appeared that high rectified spirit will not conduct; perhaps you have made such. this i know, that wax, rosin, brimstone, and even glass, commonly reputed electrics _per se_, will, when in a fluid state, conduct pretty well. glass will do it when only red hot. so that my former position, that only metals and water were conductors, and other bodies more or less such, as they partook of metal or moisture, was too general. your conception of the electric fluid, that it is incomparably more subtle than air, is undoubtedly just. it pervades dense matter with the greatest ease; but it does not seem to mix or incorporate willingly with mere air, as it does with other matter. it will not quit common matter to join with air. air obstructs, in some degree, its motion. an electric atmosphere cannot be communicated at so great a distance, through intervening air, by far, as through a vacuum.--who knows then, but there may be, as the ancients thought, a region of this fire above our atmosphere, prevented by our air, and its own too great distance for attraction, from joining our earth? perhaps where the atmosphere is rarest, this fluid may be densest, and nearer the earth where the atmosphere grows denser, this fluid may be rarer; yet some of it be low enough to attach itself to our highest clouds, and thence they becoming electrified, may be attracted by, and descend towards the earth, and discharge their watry contents, together with that etherial fire. perhaps the _auroræ boreales_ are currents of this fluid in its own region, above our atmosphere, becoming from their motion visible. there is no end to conjectures. as yet we are but novices in this branch of natural knowledge. you mention several differences of salts in electrical experiments. were they all equally dry? salt is apt to acquire moisture from a moist air, and some sorts more than others. when perfectly dried by lying before a fire, or on a stove, none that i have tried will conduct any better than so much glass. new flannel, if dry and warm, will draw the electric fluid from non-electrics, as well as that which has been worn. i wish you had the convenience of trying the experiments you seem to have such expectations from, upon various kinds of spirits, salts, earth, &c. frequently, in a variety of experiments, though we miss what we expected to find, yet something valuable turns out, something surprising, and instructing, though unthought of. i thank you for communicating the illustration of the theorem concerning light. it is very curious. but i must own i am much in the _dark_ about _light_. i am not satisfied with the doctrine that supposes particles of matter called light, continually driven off from the sun's surface, with a swiftness so prodigious! must not the smallest particle conceivable have, with such a motion, a force exceeding that of a twenty-four pounder, discharged from a cannon? must not the sun diminish exceedingly by such a waste of matter; and the planets, instead of drawing nearer to him, as some have feared, recede to greater distances through the lessened attraction. yet these particles, with this amazing motion, will not drive before them, or remove, the least and lightest dust they meet with: and the sun, for aught we know, continues of his antient dimensions, and his attendants move in their antient orbits. may not all the phenomena of light be more conveniently solved, by supposing universal space filled with a subtle elastic fluid, which, when at rest, is not visible, but whose vibrations affect that fine sense in the eye, as those of air do the grosser organs of the ear? we do not, in the case of sound, imagine that any sonorous particles are thrown off from a bell, for instance, and fly in strait lines to the ear; why must we believe that luminous particles leave the sun and proceed to the eye? some diamonds, if rubbed, shine in the dark, without losing any part of their matter. i can make an electrical spark as big as the flame of a candle, much brighter, and, therefore, visible further; yet this is without fuel; and, i am persuaded, no part of the electric fluid flies off in such case to distant places, but all goes directly, and is to be found in the place to which i destine it. may not different degrees of the vibration of the above-mentioned universal medium, occasion the appearances of different colours? i think the electric fluid is always the same; yet i find that weaker and stronger sparks differ in apparent colour, some white, blue, purple, red; the strongest, white; weak ones red. thus different degrees of vibration given to the air produce the seven, different sounds in music, analagous to the seven colours, yet the medium, air, is the same. if the sun is not wasted by expence of light, i can easily conceive that he shall otherwise always retain the same quantity of matter; though we should suppose him made of sulphur constantly flaming. the action of fire only _separates_ the particles of matter, it does not _annihilate_ them. water, by heat raised in vapour, returns to the earth in rain; and if we could collect all the particles of burning matter that go off in smoak, perhaps they might, with the ashes, weigh as much as the body before it was fired: and if we could put them into the same position with regard to each other, the mass would be the same as before, and might be burnt over again. the chymists have analysed sulphur, and find it composed, in certain proportions, of oil, salt, and earth; and having, by the analysis, discovered those proportions, they can, of those ingredients, make sulphur. so we have only to suppose, that the parts of the sun's sulphur, separated by fire, rise into his atmosphere, and there being freed from the immediate action of the fire, they collect into cloudy masses, and growing, by degrees, too heavy to be longer supported, they descend to the sun, and are burnt over again. hence the spots appearing on his face, which are observed to diminish daily in size, their consuming edges being of particular brightness. it is well we are not, as poor galileo was, subject to the inquisition for _philosophical heresy_. my whispers against the orthodox doctrine, in private letters, would be dangerous; but your writing and printing would be highly criminal. as it is, you must expect some censure, but one heretic will surely excuse another. i am heartily glad to hear more instances of the success of the poke-weed, in the cure of that horrible evil to the human body, a cancer. you will deserve highly of mankind for the communication. but i find in boston they are at a loss to know the right plant, some asserting it is what they call _mechoachan_, others other things. in one of their late papers it is publicly requested that a perfect description may be given of the plant, its places of growth, &c. i have mislaid the paper, or would send it to you. i thought you had described it pretty fully[ ]. i am, sir, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] cadwallader colden. see note, page . _editor._ [ ] as the poke-weed, though out of place, is introduced here, we shall translate and insert two extracts of letters from dr. franklin to m. dubourg, the french translator of his works, on the same subject. "london, march , . "i apprehend that our poke-weed is what the botanists term _phytolacca_. this plant bears berries as large as peas; the skin is black, but it contains a crimson juice. it is this juice, thickened by evaporation in the sun, which was employed. it caused great pain, but some persons were said to have been cured. i am not quite certain of the facts; all that i know is, that dr. colden had a good opinion of the remedy." "london, april , . "you will see by the annexed paper by dr. solander, that this herb, poke-weed, in which has been found a specific remedy for cancers, is the most common species of phytolacca. (phytolacca decandra l.)" _editor._ mr. e. kinnersley, at boston, to benjamin franklin, esq. at philadelphia. _new experiments.--paradoxes inferred from them.--difference in the electricity of a globe of glass charged, and a globe of sulphur.--difficulty of ascertaining which is positive and which negative._ _feb. , ._ sir, i have the following experiments to communicate: i held in one hand a wire, which was fastened at the other end to the handle of a pump, in order to try whether the stroke from the prime conductor, through my arms, would be any greater than when conveyed only to the surface of the earth, but could discover no difference. i placed the needle of a compass on the point of a long pin, and holding it in the atmosphere of the prime conductor, at the distance of about three inches, found it to whirl round like the flyers of a jack, with great rapidity. i suspended with silk a cork ball, about the bigness of a pea, and presented to it rubbed amber, sealing-wax, and sulphur, by each of which it was strongly repelled; then i tried rubbed glass and china, and found that each of these would attract it, until it became electrified again, and then it would be repelled as at first; and while thus repelled by the rubbed glass or china, either of the others when rubbed would attract it. then i electrified the ball, with the wire of a charged phial, and presented to it rubbed glass (the stopper of a decanter) and a china tea-cup, by which it was as strongly repelled as by the wire; but when i presented either of the other rubbed electrics, it would be strongly attracted, and when i electrified it by either of these, till it became repelled, it would be attracted by the wire of the phial, but be repelled by its coating. these experiments surprised me very much, and have induced me to infer the following paradoxes. . if a glass globe be placed at one end of a prime-conductor, and a sulphur one at the other end, both being equally in good order, and in equal motion, not a spark of fire can be obtained from the conductor; but one globe will draw out, as fast as the other gives in. . if a phial be suspended on the conductor, with a chain from its coating to the table, and only one of the globes be made use of at a time, turns of the wheel, for instance, will charge it; after which, so many tarns of the other wheel will discharge it; and as many more will charge it again. . the globes being both in motion, each having a separate conductor, with a phial suspended on one of them, and the chain of it fastened to the other, the phial will become charged; one globe charging positively, the other negatively. . the phial being thus charged, hang it in like manner on the other conductor; set both wheels a going again, and the same number of turns that charged it before, will now discharge it; and the same number repeated, will charge it again. . when each globe communicates with the same prime conductor, having a chain hanging from it to the table, one of them, when in motion (but which i cannot say) will draw fire up through the cushion, and discharge it through the chain; the other will draw it up through the chain, and discharge it through the cushion. i should be glad if you would send to my house for my sulphur globe, and the cushion belonging to it, and make the trial; but must caution you not to use chalk on the cushion, some fine powdered sulphur will do better. if, as i expect, you should find the globes to charge the prime conductor differently, i hope you will be able to discover some method of determining which it is that charges positively. i am, &c. e. kinnersley. to mr. e. kinnersley, at boston. _probable cause of the different attractions and repulsions of the two electrified globes mentioned in the two preceding letters._ _philadelphia, march , ._ sir, i thank you for the experiments communicated. i sent immediately for your brimstone globe, in order to make the trials you desired, but found it wanted centres, which i have not time now to supply; but the first leisure i will get it fitted for use, try the experiments, and acquaint you with the result. in the mean time i suspect, that the different attractions and repulsions you observed, proceeded rather from the greater or smaller quantities of the fire you obtained from different bodies, than from its being of a different _kind_, or having a different _direction_. in haste, i am, &c. b. franklin. to mr. e. kinnersley, at boston. _reasons for supposing, that the glass globe charges positively, and the sulphur negatively.--hint respecting a leather globe for experiments when travelling._ _philadelphia, march , ._ sir, having brought your brimstone globe to work, i tried one of the experiments you proposed, and was agreeably surprised to find, that the glass globe being at one end of the conductor, and the sulphur globe at the other end, both globes in motion, no spark could be obtained from the conductor, unless when one globe turned slower, or was not in so good order as the other; and then the spark was only in proportion to the difference, so that turning equally, or turning that slowest which worked best, would again bring the conductor to afford no spark. i found also, that the wire of a phial charged by the glass globe, attracted a cork ball that had touched the wire of a phial charged by the brimstone globe, and _vice versa_, so that the cork continued to play between the two phials, just as when one phial was charged through the wire, the other through the coating, by the glass globe alone. and two phials charged, the one by the brimstone globe, the other by the glass globe, would be both discharged by bringing their wires together, and shock the person holding the phials. from these experiments one may be certain that your d, d, and th proposed experiments, would succeed exactly as you suppose, though i have not tried them, wanting time. i imagine it is the glass globe that charges positively, and the sulphur negatively, for these reasons: . though the sulphur globe seems to work equally well with the glass one, yet it can never occasion so large and distant a spark between my knuckle and the conductor, when the sulphur one is working, as when the glass one is used; which, i suppose, is occasioned by this, that bodies of a certain bigness cannot so easily part with a quantity of electrical fluid they have and hold attracted _within_ their substance, as they can receive an additional quantity _upon_ their surface by way of atmosphere. therefore so much cannot be drawn _out_ of the conductor, as can be thrown _on_ it. . i observe that the stream or brush of fire, appearing at the end of a wire, connected with the conductor, is long, large, and much diverging, when the glass globe is used, and makes a snapping (or rattling) noise: but when the sulphur one is used, it is short, small, and makes a hissing noise; and just the reverse of both happens, when you hold the same wire in your hand, and the globes are worked alternately: the brush is large, long, diverging, and snapping (or rattling) when the sulphur globe is turned; short, small, and hissing, when the glass globe is turned.--when the brush is long, large, and much diverging, the body to which it joins seems to me to be throwing the fire out; and when the contrary appears, it seems to be drinking in. . i observe, that when i hold my knuckle before the sulphur globe, while turning, the stream of fire between my knuckle and the globe seems to spread on its surface, as if it flowed from the finger; on the glass globe it is otherwise. . the cool wind (or what was called so) that we used to feel as coming from an electrified point, is, i think, more sensible when the glass globe is used, than when the sulphur one.--but these are hasty thoughts. as to your fifth paradox, it must likewise be true, if the globes are alternately worked; but if worked together, the fire will neither come up nor go down by the chain, because one globe will drink it as fast as the other produces it. i should be glad to know, whether the effects would be contrary if the glass globe is solid, and the sulphur globe is hollow; but i have no means at present of trying. in your journeys, your glass globes meet with accidents, and sulphur ones are heavy and inconvenient.--_query._ would not a thin plane of brimstone, cast on a board, serve on occasion as a cushion, while a globe of leather stuffed (properly mounted) might receive the fire from the sulphur, and charge the conductor positively? such a globe would be in no danger of breaking[ ]. i think i can conceive how it may be done; but have not time to add more than that i am, yours, &c. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] the discoveries of the late ingenious mr. symmer, on the positive and negative electricity produced by the mutual friction of white and black silk, &c. afford hints for farther improvements to be made with this view. [in mr. collinson's edition, several papers followed here, by the abbé mazeas, and others, upon the subject of dr. franklin's experiments, which, that the letters of our author might not be too much interrupted, we have thought proper to transfer to an appendix. a subsequent paper by mr. david colden, entitled remarks on the abbé nollet's letters to benjamin franklin, esq. on electricity, will be found transferred in the same manner.] to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _electrical kite._ _philadelphia, oct. , ._ sir, as frequent mention is made in public papers from europe of the success of the philadelphia experiment for drawing the electric fire from clouds by means of pointed rods of iron erected on high buildings, &c. it may be agreeable to the curious to be informed that the same experiment has succeeded in philadelphia, though made in a different and more easy manner, which is as follows: make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so long as to reach to the four corners of a large thin silk handkerchief when extended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to the extremities of the cross, so you have the body of a kite; which being properly accommodated with a tail, loop, and string, will rise in the air, like those made of paper; but this being of silk is fitter to bear the wet and wind of a thunder-gust without tearing. to the top of the upright stick of the cross is to be fixed a very sharp pointed wire, rising a foot or more above the wood. to the end of the twine, next the hand, is to be tied a silk 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 wetted the kite and twine, so that it can conduct the electric fire freely, you will find it stream out plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle. at this key the 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. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _hypothesis, of the sea being the grand source of lightning, retracted. positive, and sometimes negative, electricity of the clouds discovered.--new experiments and conjectures in support of this discovery.--observations recommended for ascertaining the direction of the electric fluid.--size of rods for conductors to buildings.--appearance of a thunder-cloud described._ _philadelphia, september, ._ sir, in my former paper on this subject, written first in , enlarged and sent to england in , i considered the sea as the grand source of lightning, imagining its luminous appearance to be owing to electric fire, produced by friction between the particles of water and those of salt. living far from the sea, i had then no opportunity of making experiments on the sea-water, and so embraced this opinion too hastily. for in , and , being occasionally on the sea-coast, i found, by experiments, that sea-water in a bottle, though at first it would by agitation appear luminous, yet in a few hours it lost that virtue: _hence and from this_, that i could not by agitating a solution of sea-salt in water produce any light, i first began to doubt of my former hypothesis, and to suspect that the luminous appearance in sea-water must be owing to some other principles. i then considered whether it were not possible, that the particles of air, being electrics _per se_, might, in hard gales of wind, by their friction against trees, hills, buildings, &c. as so many minute electric globes, rubbing against non-electric cushions, draw the electric fire from the earth, and that the rising vapours might receive that fire from the air, and by such means the clouds become electrified. if this were so, i imagined that by forcing a constant violent stream of air against my prime conductor, by bellows, i should electrify it _negatively_; the rubbing particles of air, drawing from it part of its natural quantity of the electric fluid. i accordingly made the experiment, but it did not succeed. in september , i erected an iron rod to draw the lightning down into my house, in order to make some experiments on it, with two bells to give notice when the rod should be electrified: a contrivance obvious to every electrician. i found the bells rang sometimes when there was no lightning or thunder, but only a dark cloud over the rod; that sometimes after a flash of lightning they would suddenly stop; and at other times, when they had not rang before, they would, after a flash, suddenly begin to ring; that the electricity was sometimes very faint, so that when a small spark was obtained, another could not be got for some time after; at other times the sparks would follow extremely quick, and once i had a continual stream from bell to bell, the size of a crow-quill: even during the same gust there were considerable variations. in the winter following i conceived an experiment, to try whether the clouds were electrified _positively_ or _negatively_; but my pointed rod, with its apparatus, becoming out of order, i did not refit it till towards the spring, when i expected the warm weather would bring on more frequent thunder-clouds. the experiment was this: to take two phials; charge one of them with lightning from the iron rod, and give the other an equal charge by the electric glass globe, through the prime conductor: when charged, to place them on a table within three or four inches of each other, a small cork ball being suspended by a fine silk thread from the cieling, so as it might play between the wires. if both bottles then were electrified _positively_, the ball being attracted and repelled by one, must be also repelled by the other. if the one _positively_, and the other _negatively_; then the ball would be attracted and repelled alternately by each, and continue to play between them as long as any considerable charge remained. being very intent on making this experiment, it was no small mortification to me, that i happened to be abroad during two of the greatest thunder-storms we had early in the spring, and though i had given orders in my family, that if the bells rang when i was from home, they should catch some of the lightning for me in electrical phials, and they did so, yet it was mostly dissipated before my return, and in some of the other gusts, the quantity of lightning i was able to obtain was so small, and the charge so weak, that i could not satisfy myself: yet i sometimes saw what heightened my suspicions, and inflamed my curiosity. at last, on the th of april, , there being a smart gust of some continuance, i charged one phial pretty well with lightning, and the other equally, as near as i could judge, with electricity from my glass globe; and, having placed them properly, i beheld, with great surprize and pleasure, the cork ball play briskly between them; and was convinced that one bottle was electrised _negatively_. i repeated this experiment several times during the gust, and in eight succeeding gusts, always with the same success; and being of opinion (for reasons i formerly gave in my letter to mr. kinnersley, since printed in london) that the glass globe electrises _positively_, i concluded that the clouds are _always_ electrised _negatively_, or have always in them less than their natural quantity of the electric fluid. yet notwithstanding so many experiments, it seems i concluded too soon; for at last, june the th, in a gust which continued from five o'clock, p. m. to seven, i met with one cloud that was electrised positively, though several that passed over my rod before, during the same gust, were in the negative state. this was thus discovered: i had another concurring experiment, which i often repeated, to prove the negative state of the clouds, viz. while the bells were ringing, i took the phial charged from the glass globe, and applied its wire to the erected rod, considering, that if the clouds were electrised _positively_, the rod which received its electricity from them must be so too; and then the additional _positive_ electricity of the phial would make the bells ring faster:--but, if the clouds were in a _negative_ state, they must exhaust the electric fluid from my rod, and bring that into the same negative state with themselves, and then the wire of a positively charged phial, supplying the rod with what it wanted (which it was obliged otherwise to draw from the earth by means of the pendulous brass ball playing between the two bells) the ringing would cease till the bottle was discharged. in this manner i quite discharged into the rod several phials that were charged from the glass globe, the electric fluid streaming from the wire to the rod, till the wire would receive no spark from the finger; and, during this supply to the rod from the phial, the bells stopped ringing; but by continuing the application of the phial wire to the rod, i exhausted the natural quantity from the inside surface of the same phials, or, as i call it, charged them _negatively_. at length, while i was charging a phial by my glass globe, to repeat this experiment, my bells, of themselves, stopped ringing, and, after some pause, began to ring again.--but now, when i approached the wire of the charged phial to the rod, instead of the usual stream that i expected from the wire to the rod, there was no spark; not even when i brought the wire and the rod to touch; yet the bells continued ringing vigorously, which proved to me, that the rod was then _positively_ electrified, as well as the wire of the phial, and equally so; and, consequently, that the particular cloud then over the rod was in the same positive state. this was near the end of the gust. but this was a single experiment, which, however, destroys my first too general conclusion, and reduces me to this: _that the clouds of a thunder-gust are most commonly in a negative state of electricity, but sometimes in a positive state._ the latter i believe is rare; for though i soon after the last experiment set out on a journey to boston, and was from home most part of the summer, which prevented my making farther trials and observations; yet mr. kinnersley returning from the islands just as i left home, pursued the experiments during my absence, and informs me that he always found the clouds in the _negative_ state. so that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes, _it is the earth that strikes into the clouds, and not the clouds that strike into the earth_. those who are versed in electric experiments, will easily conceive, that the effects and appearances must be nearly the same in either case; the same explosion, and the same flash between one cloud and another, and between the clouds and mountains, &c. the same rending of trees, walls, &c. which the electric fluid meets with in its passage, and the same fatal shock to animal bodies; and that pointed rods fixed on buildings, or masts of ships, and communicating with the earth or sea, must be of the same service in restoring the equilibrium silently between the earth and clouds, or in conducting a flash or stroke, if one should be, so as to save harmless the house or vessel: for points have equal power to throw off, as to draw on the electric fire, and, rods will conduct up as well as down. but though the light gained from these experiments makes no alteration in the practice, it makes a considerable one in the theory. and now we as much need an hypothesis to explain by what means the clouds become negatively, as before to shew how they became positively electrified. i cannot forbear venturing some few conjectures on this occasion: they are what occur to me at present, and though future discoveries should prove them not wholly right, yet they may in the mean time be of some use, by stirring up the curious to make more experiments, and occasion more exact disquisitions. i conceive then, that this globe of earth and water, with its plants, animals, and buildings, have diffused throughout their substance, a quantity of the electric fluid, just as much as they can contain, which i call the _natural quantity_. that this natural quantity is not the same in all kinds of common matter under the same dimensions, nor in the same kind of common matter in all circumstances; but a solid foot, for instance, of one kind of common matter, may contain more of the electric fluid than a solid foot of some other kind of common matter; and a pound weight of the same kind of common matter may, when in a rarer state, contain more of the electric fluid than when in a denser state. for the electric fluid, being attracted by any portion of common matter, the parts of that fluid, (which have among themselves a mutual repulsion) are brought so near to each other by the attraction of the common matter that absorbs them, as that their repulsion is equal to the condensing power of attraction in common matter; and then such portion of common matter will absorb no more. bodies of different kinds having thus attracted and absorbed what i call their _natural quantity, i. e._ just as much of the electric fluid as is suited to their circumstances of density, rarity, and power of attracting, do not then show any signs of electricity among each other. and if more electric fluid be added to one of these bodies, it does not enter, but spreads on the surface, forming an atmosphere; and then such body shews signs of electricity. i have in a former paper compared common matter to a spunge, and the electric fluid to water: i beg leave once more to make use of the same comparison, to illustrate farther my meaning in this particular. when a spunge is somewhat condensed by being squeezed between the fingers, it will not receive and retain so much water as when in its more loose and open state. if _more_ squeezed and condensed, some of the water will come out of its inner parts, and flow on the surface. if the pressure of the fingers be entirely removed, the spunge will not only resume what was lately forced out, but attract an additional quantity. as the spunge in its rarer state will _naturally_ attract and absorb _more_ water, and in its denser state will _naturally_ attract and absorb _less_ water; we may call the quantity it attacks and absorbs in either state, its _natural quantity_, the state being considered. now what the spunge is to water, the same is water to the electric fluid. when a portion of water is in its common dense state, it can hold no more electric fluid than it has: if any be added, it spreads on the surface. when the same portion of water is rarefied into vapour, and forms a cloud, it is then capable of receiving and absorbing a much greater quantity; there is room for each particle to have an electric atmosphere. thus water, in its rarefied state, or in the form of a cloud, will be in a negative state of electricity; it will have less than its _natural quantity_; that is, less than it is naturally capable of attracting and absorbing in that state. such a cloud, then, coming so near the earth as to be within the striking distance, will receive from the earth a flash of the electric fluid; which flash, to supply a great extent of cloud, must sometimes contain a very great quantity of that fluid. or such a cloud, passing over woods of tall trees, may from the points and sharp edges of their moist top leaves, receive silently some supply. a cloud being by any means supplied from the earth, may strike into other clouds that have not been supplied, or not so much supplied; and those to others, till an equilibrium is produced among all the clouds that are within striking distance of each other. the cloud thus supplied, having parted with much of what it first received, may require and receive a fresh supply from the earth, or from some other cloud, which by the wind is brought into such a situation as to receive it more readily from the earth. hence repeated and continual strokes and flashes till the clouds have all got nearly their natural quantity as clouds, or till they have descended in showers, and are united again with this terraqueous globe, their original. thus, thunder-clouds are generally in a negative state of electricity compared with the earth, agreeable to most of our experiments; yet as by one experiment we found a cloud electrised positively, i conjecture that, in that case, such cloud, after having received what was, in its rare state, only its _natural quantity_, became compressed by the driving winds, or some other means, so that part of what it had absorbed was forced out, and formed an electric atmosphere around it in its denser state. hence it was capable of communicating positive electricity to my rod. to show that a body in different circumstances of dilatation and contraction is capable of receiving and retaining more or less of the electric fluid on its surface, i would relate the following experiment: i placed a clean wine glass on the floor, and on it a small silver can. in the can i put about three yards of brass chain; to one end of which i fastened a silk thread, which went right up to the cieling, where it passed over a pulley, and came down again to my hand, that i might at pleasure draw the chain up out of the can, extending it till within a foot of the cieling, and let it gradually sink into the can again.--from the cieling, by another thread of fine raw silk, i suspended a small light lock of cotton, so as that when it hung perpendicularly, it came in contact with the side of the can.--then approaching the wire of a charged phial to the can, i gave it a spark, which flowed round in an electric atmosphere; and the lock of cotton was repelled from the side of the can to the distance of about nine or ten inches. the can would not then receive another spark from the wire of the phial; but as i gradually drew up the chain, the atmosphere of the can diminished by flowing over the rising chain, and the lock of cotton accordingly drew nearer and nearer to the can; and then, if i again brought the phial wire near the can, it would receive another spark, and the cotton fly off again to its first distance; and thus, as the chain was drawn higher, the can would receive more sparks; because the can and extended chain were capable of supporting a greater atmosphere than the can with the chain gathered up into its belly.--and that the atmosphere round the can was diminished by raising the chain, and increased again by lowering it, is not only agreeable to reason, since the atmosphere of the chain, must be drawn from that of the can, when it rose, and returned to it again when it fell; but was also evident to the eye, the lock of cotton always approaching the can when the chain was drawn up, and receding when it was let down again. thus we see that increase of surface makes a body capable of receiving a greater electric atmosphere: but this experiment does not, i own, fully demonstrate my new hypothesis; for the brass and silver still continue in their solid state, and are not rarefied into vapour, as the water is in clouds. perhaps some future experiments on vapourized water may set this matter in a clearer light. one seemingly material objection arises to the new hypothesis, and it is this: if water, in its rarefied state, as a cloud, requires, and will absorb more of the electric fluid than when in its dense state as water, why does it not acquire from the earth all it wants at the instant of its leaving the surface, while it is yet near, and but just rising in vapour? to this difficulty i own i cannot at present give a solution satisfactory to myself: i thought, however, that i ought to state it in its full force, as i have done, and submit the whole to examination. and i would beg leave to recommend it to the curious in this branch of natural philosophy, to repeat with care and accurate observation the experiments i have reported in this and former papers relating to _positive_ and _negative_ electricity, with such other relative ones as shall occur to them, that it may be certainly known whether the electricity communicated by a glass globe, be _really positive_. and also i would request all who may have an opportunity of observing the recent effects of lightning on buildings, trees, &c. that they would consider them particularly with a view to discover the direction. but in these examinations, this one thing is always to be understood, viz. that a stream of the electric fluid passing through wood, brick, metal, &c. while such fluid passes in _small quantity_, the mutually repulsive power of its parts is confined and overcome by the cohesion of the parts of the body it passes through, so as to prevent an explosion; but when the fluid comes in a quantity too great to be confined by such cohesion, it explodes, and rends or fuses the body that endeavoured to confine it. if it be wood, brick, stone, or the like, the splinters will fly off on that side where there is least resistance. and thus, when a hole is struck through pasteboard by the electrified jar, if the surfaces of the pasteboard are not confined or compressed, there will be a bur raised all round the hole on both sides the pasteboard; but if one side be confined, so that the bur cannot be raised on that side, it will be all raised on the other, which way soever the fluid was directed. for the bur round the outside of the hole, is the effect of the explosion every way from the centre of the stream, and not an effect of the direction. in every stroke of lightning, i am of opinion that the stream of the electric fluid, moving to restore the equilibrium between the cloud and the earth, does always previously find its passage, and mark out, as i may say, its own course, taking in its way all the conductors it can find, such as metals, damp walls, moist wood, &c. and will go considerably out of a direct course, for the sake of the assistance of good conductors; and that, in this course, it is actually moving, though silently and imperceptibly, before the explosion, in and among the conductors; which explosion happens only when the conductors cannot discharge it as fast as they receive it, by reason of their being incomplete, dis-united, too small, or not of the best materials for conducting. metalline rods, therefore, of sufficient thickness, and extending from the highest part of an edifice to the ground, being of the best materials and complete conductors, will, i think, secure the building from damage, either by restoring the equilibrium so fast as to prevent a stroke, or by conducting it in the substance of the rod as far as the rod goes, so that there shall be no explosion but what is above its point, between that and the clouds. if it be asked, what thickness of a metalline rod may be supposed sufficient? in answer, i would remark, that five large glass jars, such as i have described in my former papers, discharge a very great quantity of electricity, which nevertheless will be all conducted round the corner of a book, by the fine filleting of gold on the cover, it following the gold the farthest way about, rather than take the shorter course through the cover, that not being so good a conductor. now in this line of gold, the metal is so extremely thin as to be little more than the colour of gold, and on an octavo book is not in the whole an inch square, and therefore not the thirty-sixth part of a grain, according to m. reaumur; yet it is sufficient to conduct the charge of five large jars, and how many more i know not. now, i suppose a wire of a quarter of an inch diameter to contain about five thousand times as much metal as there is in that gold line, and if so, it will conduct the charge of twenty-five thousand such glass jars, which is a quantity, i imagine, far beyond what was ever contained in any one stroke of natural lightning. but a rod of half an inch diameter would conduct four times as much as one of a quarter. and with regard to conducting, though a certain thickness of metal be required to conduct a great quantity of electricity, and, at the same time, keep its own substance firm and unseparated; and a less quantity, as a very small wire for instance, will be destroyed by the explosion; yet such small wire will have answered the end of conducting that stroke, though it become incapable of conducting another. and considering the extreme rapidity with which the electric fluid moves without exploding, when it has a free passage, or compleat metal communication, i should think a vast quantity would be conducted in a short time, either to or from a cloud, to restore its equilibrium with the earth, by means of a very small wire; and therefore thick rods should seem not so necessary.--however, as the quantity of lightning discharged in one stroke, cannot well be measured, and, in different strokes, is certainly very various, in some much greater than others; and as iron (the best metal for the purpose, being least apt to fuse) is cheap, it may be well enough to provide a larger canal to guide that impetuous blast than we imagine necessary: for, though one middling wire may be sufficient, two or three can do no harm. and time, with careful observations well compared, will at length point out the proper size to greater certainty. pointed rods erected on edifices may likewise often prevent a stroke, in the following manner: an eye so situated as to view horizontally the under side of a thunder-cloud, will see it very ragged, with a number of separate fragments, or petty clouds, one under another, the lowest sometimes not far from the earth. these, as so many stepping-stones, assist in conducting a stroke between the cloud and a building. to represent these by an experiment, take two or three locks of fine loose cotton, connect one of them with the prime conductor by a fine thread of two inches (which may be spun out of the same lock by the fingers) another to that, and the third to the second, by like threads.--turn the globe and you will see these locks extend themselves towards the table (as the lower small clouds do towards the earth) being attracted by it: but on presenting a sharp point erect under the lowest, it will shrink up to the second, the second to the first, and all together to the prime conductor, where they will continue as long as the point continues under them. may not, in like manner, the small electrised clouds, whose equilibrium with the earth is soon restored by the point, rise up to the main body, and by that means occasion so large a vacancy, as that the grand cloud cannot strike in that place? these thoughts, my dear friend, are many of them crude and hasty; and if i were merely ambitious of acquiring some reputation in philosophy, i ought to keep them by me, till corrected and improved by time, and farther experience. but since even short hints and imperfect experiments in any new branch of science, being communicated, have oftentimes a good effect, in exciting the attention of the ingenious to the subject, and so become the occasion of more exact disquisition, and more compleat discoveries, you are at liberty to communicate this paper to whom you please; it being of more importance that knowledge should increase, than that your friend should be thought an accurate philosopher. b. franklin. to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _additional proofs of the positive and negative state of electricity in the clouds.--new method of ascertaining it._ _philadelphia, april , ._ sir, since september last, having been abroad on two long journeys, and otherwise much engaged, i have made but few observations on the _positive_ and _negative_ state of electricity in the clouds. but mr. kinnersley kept his rod and bells in good order, and has made many. once this winter the bells rang a long time, during a fall of snow, though no thunder was heard, or lightning seen. sometimes the flashes and cracks of the electric matter between bell and bell were so large and loud as to be heard all over the house: but by all his observations, the clouds were constantly in a negative state, till about six weeks ago, when he found them once to change in a few minutes from the negative to the positive. about a fortnight after that, he made another observation of the same kind; and last monday afternoon, the wind blowing hard at s. e. and veering round to n. e. with many thick driving clouds, there were five or six successive changes from negative to positive, and from positive to negative, the bells stopping a minute or two between every change. besides the methods mentioned in my paper of september last, of discovering the electrical state of the clouds, the following may be used. when your bells are ringing, pass a rubbed tube by the edge of the bell, connected with your pointed rod: if the cloud is then in a negative state, the ringing will stop; if in a positive state, it will continue, and perhaps be quicker. or, suspend a very small cork-ball by a fine silk thread, so that it may hang close to the edge of the rod-bell: then whenever the bell is electrified, whether positively or negatively, the little ball will be repelled, and continue at some distance from the bell. have ready a round-headed glass stopper of a decanter, rub it on your side till it is electrified, then present it to the cork-ball. if the electricity in the ball is positive, it will be repelled from the glass stopper as well as from the bell. if negative, it will fly to the stopper. b. franklin. electrical experiments, _with an attempt to account for their several phænomena. together with some observations on thunder-clouds, in further confirmation of mr. franklin's observations on the positive and negative electrical state of the clouds, by john canton, m. a. and f. r. s._ _dec. , ._ experiment i. from the cieling, or any convenient part of a room, let two cork-balls, each about the bigness of a small pea, be suspended by linen threads of eight or nine inches in length, so as to be in contact with each other. bring the excited glass tube under the balls, and they will be separated by it, when held at the distance of three or four feet; let it be brought nearer, and they will stand farther apart; entirely withdraw it, and they will immediately come together. this experiment may be made with very small brass balls hung by silver wire; and will succeed as well with sealing-wax made electrical, as with glass. experiment ii. if two cork-balls be suspended by dry silk threads, the excited tube must be brought within eighteen inches before they will repel each other; which they will continue to do, for some time, after the tube is taken away. as the balls in the first experiment are not insulated, they cannot properly be said to be electrified: but when they hang within the atmosphere of the excited tube, they may attract and condense the electrical fluid round about them, and be separated by the repulsion of its particles. it is conjectured also, that the balls at this time contain less than their common share of the electrical fluid, on account of the repelling power of that which surrounds them; though some, perhaps, is continually entering and passing through the threads. and if that be the case, the reason is plain why the balls hung by silk, in the second experiment, must be in a much more dense part of the atmosphere of the tube, before they will repel each other. at the approach of an excited stick of wax to the balls, in the first experiment, the electrical fire is supposed to come through the threads into the balls, and be condensed there, in its passage towards the wax; for, according to mr. franklin, excited glass _emits_ the electrical fluid, but excited wax _receives_ it. experiment iii. let a tin tube, of four or five feet in length, and about two inches in diameter, be insulated by silk; and from one end of it let the cork-balls be suspended by linen threads. electrify it, by bringing the excited glass tube near the other end, so as that the balls may stand an inch and an half, or two inches, apart: then, at the approach of the excited tube, they will, by degrees, lose their repelling power, and come into contact; and as the tube is brought still nearer, they will separate again to as great a distance as before: in the return of the tube they will approach each other till they touch, and then repel as at first. if the tin tube be electrified by wax, or the wire of a charged phial, the balls will be affected in the same manner at the approach of excited wax, or the wire of the phial. experiment iv. electrify the cork-balls as in the last experiment by glass, and at the approach of an excited stick of wax their repulsion will be increased. the effect will be the same, if the excited glass be brought towards them, when they have been electrified by wax. the bringing the excited glass to the end, or edge of the tin-tube, in the third experiment, is supposed to electrify it positively, or to add to the electrical fire it before contained; and therefore some will be running off through the balls, and they will repel each other. but at the approach of excited glass, which likewise _emits_ the electrical fluid, the discharge of it from the balls will be diminished; or part will be driven back, by a force acting in a contrary direction: and they will come nearer together. if the tube be held at such a distance from the balls, that the excess of the density of the fluid round about them, above the common quantity in air, be equal to the excess of the density of that within them, above the common quantity contained in cork; their repulsion will be quite destroyed. but if the tube be brought nearer; the fluid without being more dense than that within the balls, it will be attracted by them, and they will recede from each other again. when the apparatus has lost part of its natural share of this fluid, by the approach of excited wax to one end of it, or is electrified negatively; the electrical fire is attracted and imbibed by the balls to supply the deficiency; and that more plentifully at the approach of excited glass; or a body positively electrified, than before; whence the distance between the balls will be increased, as the fluid surrounding them is augmented. and in general, whether by the approach or recess of any body; if the difference between the density of the internal and external fluid be increased, or diminished; the repulsion of the balls will be increased, or diminished, accordingly. experiment v. when the insulated tin tube is not electrified, bring the excited glass tube towards the middle of it, so as to be nearly at right angles with it, and the balls at the end will repel each other; and the more so, as the excited tube is brought nearer. when it has been held a few seconds, at the distance of about six inches, withdraw it, and the balls will approach each other till they touch; and then separating again, as the tube is moved farther off, will continue to repel when it is taken quite away. and this repulsion between the balls will be increased by the approach of excited glass, but diminished by excited wax; just as if the apparatus had been electrified by wax, after the manner described in the third experiment. experiment vi. insulate two tin tubes, distinguished by a and b, so as to be in a line with each other, and about half an inch apart; and at the remote end of each, let a pair of cork balls be suspended. towards the middle of a, bring the excited glass tube, and holding it a short time, at the distance of a few inches, each pair of balls will be observed to separate: withdraw the tube, and the balls of a will come together, and then repel each other again; but those of b will hardly be affected. by the approach of the excited glass tube, held under the balls of a, their repulsion will be increased: but if the tube be brought, in the same manner, towards the balls of b, their repulsion will be diminished. in the fifth experiment, the common stock of electrical matter in the tin tube, is supposed to be attenuated about the middle, and to be condensed at the ends, by the repelling power of the atmosphere of the excited glass tube, when held near it. and perhaps the tin tube may lose some of its natural quantity of the electrical fluid, before it receives any from the glass; as that fluid will more readily run off from the ends and edges of it, than enter at the middle: and accordingly, when the glass tube is withdrawn, and the fluid is again equally diffused through the apparatus, it is found to be electrified negatively: for excited glass brought under the balls will increase their repulsion. in the sixth experiment, part of the fluid driven out of one tin tube enters the other; which is found to be electrified positively, by the decreasing of the repulsion of its balls, at the approach of excited glass. experiment vii. let the tin tube, with a pair of balls at one end, be placed three feet at least from any part of the room, and the air rendered very dry by means of a fire: electrify the apparatus to a considerable degree; then touch the tin tube with a finger, or any other conductor, and the balls will, notwithstanding, continue to repel each other; though not at so great a distance as before. the air surrounding the apparatus to the distance of two or three feet, is supposed to contain more or less of the electrical fire, than its common share, as the tin tube is electrified positively, or negatively; and when very dry, may not part with its overplus, or have its deficiency supplied so suddenly, as the tin; but may continue to be electrified, after that has been touched for a considerable time. experiment viii. having made the torricellian vacuum about five feet long, after the manner described in the _philosophical transactions_, vol. xlvii. p. , if the excited tube be brought within a small distance of it, a light will be seen through more than half its length; which soon vanishes, if the tube be not brought nearer; but will appear again, as that is moved farther off. this may be repeated several times, without exciting the tube afresh. this experiment may be considered as a kind of ocular demonstration of the truth of mr. franklin's hypothesis; that when the electrical fluid is condensed on one side of thin glass, it will be repelled from the other, if it meets with no resistance. according to which, at the approach of the excited tube, the fire is supposed to be repelled from the inside of the glass surrounding the vacuum, and to be carried off through the columns of mercury; but, as the tube is withdrawn, the fire is supposed to return. experiment ix. let an excited stick of wax, of two feet and an half in length, and about an inch in diameter, be held near its middle. excite the glass tube, and draw it over one half of it; then, turning it a little about its axis, let the tube be excited again, and drawn over the same half; and let this operation be repeated several times: then will that half destroy the repelling power of balls electrified by glass, and the other half will increase it. by this experiment it appears, that wax also may be electrified positively and negatively. and it is probable, that all bodies whatsoever may have the quantity they contain of the electrical fluid, increased, or diminished. the clouds, i have observed, by a great number of experiments, to be some in a positive, and others in a negative state of electricity. for the cork balls, electrified by them, will sometimes close at the approach of excited glass; and at other times be separated to a greater distance. and this change i have known to happen five or six times in less than half an hour; the balls coming together each time and remaining in contact a few seconds, before they repel each other again. it may likewise easily be discovered, by a charged phial, whether the electrical fire be drawn out of the apparatus by a negative cloud, or forced into it by a positive one: and by which soever it be electrified, should that cloud either part with its overplus, or have its deficiency supplied suddenly, the apparatus will lose its electricity: which is frequently observed to be the case, immediately after a flash of lightning. yet when the air is very dry, the apparatus will continue to be electrised for ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, after the clouds have passed the zenith; and sometimes till they appear more than half-way towards the horizon. rain, especially when the drops are large, generally brings down the electrical fire: and hail, in summer, i believe never fails. when the apparatus was last electrified, it was by the fall of thawing snow, which happened so lately, as on the th of november; that being the twenty-sixth day, and sixty-first time it has been electrified, since it was first set up; which was about the middle of may. and as fahrenheit's thermometer was but seven degrees above freezing, it is supposed the winter will not entirely put a stop to observations of this sort. at london, no more than two thunder-storms have happened during the whole summer; and the apparatus was sometimes so strongly electrified in one of them, that the bells, which have been frequently rung by the clouds, so loud as to be heard in every room of the house (the doors being open) were silenced by the almost constant stream of dense electrical fire, between each bell and the brass ball, which would not suffer it to strike. i shall conclude this paper, already too long, with the following queries: . may not air, suddenly rarefied, give electrical fire to, and air suddenly condensed, receive electrical fire from, clouds and vapours passing through it? . is not the _aurora borealis_, the flashing of electrical fire from positive, towards negative clouds at a great distance, through the upper part of the atmosphere, where the resistance is least? experiments _made in pursuance of those made by mr. canton, dated december , ; with explanations, by mr. benjamin franklin._ read at the royal society, dec. , . _philadelphia, march , ._ principles. i. electric atmospheres, that flow round non-electric bodies, being brought near each other, do not readily mix and unite into one atmosphere, but remain separate, and repel each other. this is plainly seen in suspended cork balls, and other bodies electrified. ii. an electric atmosphere not only repels another electric atmosphere, but will also repel the electric matter contained in the substance of a body approaching it; and without joining or mixing with it, force it to other parts of the body that contained it. this is shewn by some of the following experiments. iii. bodies electrified negatively, or deprived of their natural quantity of electricity, repel each other, (or at least appear to do so, by a mutual receding) as well as those electrified positively, or which have electric atmospheres. this is shewn by applying the negatively charged wire of a phial to two cork balls, suspended by silk threads, and many other experiments. preparation. fix a tassel of fifteen or twenty threads, three inches long, at one end of a tin prime conductor (mine is about five feet long, and four inches diameter) supported by silk lines. let the threads be a little damp, but not wet. experiment i. _pass an excited glass tube near the other end of the prime conductor, so as to give it some sparks, and the threads will diverge._ because each thread, as well as the prime conductor, has acquired an electric atmosphere, which repels and is repelled by the atmospheres of the other threads: if those several atmospheres would readily mix, the threads might unite, and hang in the middle of one atmosphere, common to them all. _rub the tube afresh, and approach the prime conductor therewith, crossways, near that end, but not nigh enough to give sparks; and the threads will diverge a little more._ because the atmosphere of the prime conductor is pressed by the atmosphere of the excited tube, and driven towards the end where the threads are, by which each thread acquires more atmosphere. _withdraw the tube, and they will close as much._ they close as much, and no more; because the atmosphere of the glass tube not having mixed with the atmosphere of the prime conductor, is withdrawn intire, having made no addition to, or diminution from it. _bring the excited tube under the tuft of threads, and they will close a little._ they close, because the atmosphere of the glass tube repels their atmospheres, and drives part of them back on the prime conductor. _withdraw it, and they will diverge as much._ for the portion of atmosphere which they had lost, returns to them again. experiment ii. _excite the glass tube, and approach the prime conductor with it, holding it across, near the end opposite to that on which the threads hang, at the distance of five or six inches. keep it there a few seconds, and the threads of the tassels will diverge. withdraw it, and they will close._ they diverge, because they have received electric atmospheres from the electric matter before contained in the substance of the prime conductor; but which is now repelled and driven away, by the atmosphere of the glass tube, from the parts of the prime conductor opposite and nearest to that atmosphere, and forced out upon the surface of the prime conductor at its other end, and upon the threads hanging thereto. were it any part of the atmosphere of the glass tube that flowed over and along the prime conductor to the threads, and gave them atmospheres (as is the case when a spark is given to the prime conductor from the glass tube) such part of the tube's atmosphere would have remained, and the threads continue to diverge; but they close on withdrawing the tube, because the tube takes with it _all its own atmosphere_, and the electric matter, which had been driven out of the substance of the prime conductor, and formed atmospheres round the threads, is thereby permitted to return to its place. _take a spark from the prime conductor near the threads, when they are diverged as before, and they will close._ for by so doing you take away their atmospheres, composed of the electric matter driven out of the substance of the prime conductor, as aforesaid, by the repellency of the atmosphere of the glass tube. by taking this spark you rob the prime conductor of part of its natural quantity of the electric matter; which part so taken is not supplied by the glass tube, for when that is afterwards withdrawn, it takes with it its whole atmosphere, and leaves the prime conductor electrised negatively, as appears by the next operation. _then withdraw the tube, and they will open again._ for now the electric matter in the prime conductor, returning to its equilibrium, or equal diffusion, in all parts of its substance, and the prime conductor having lost some of its natural quantity, the threads connected with it lose part of theirs, and so are electrised negatively, and therefore repel each other, by _pr. iii._ _approach the prime conductor with the tube near the same place as at first, and they will close again._ because the part of their natural quantity of electric fluid, which they had lost, is now restored to them again, by the repulsion of the glass tube forcing that fluid to them from other parts of the prime conductor; so they are now again in their natural state. _withdraw it, and they will open again._ for what had been restored to them, is now taken from them again, flowing back into the prime conductor, and leaving them once more electrised negatively. _bring the excited tube under the threads, and they will diverge more._ because more of their natural quantity is driven from them into the prime conductor, and thereby their negative electricity increased. experiment iii. _the prime conductor not being electrified, bring the excited tube under the tassel, and the threads will diverge._ part of their natural quantity is thereby driven out of them into the prime conductor, and they become negatively electrised, and therefore repel each other. _keeping the tube in the same place with one hand, attempt to touch the threads with the finger of the other hand, and they will recede from the finger._ because the finger being plunged into the atmosphere of the glass tube, as well as the threads, part of its natural quantity is driven back through the hand and body, by that atmosphere, and the finger becomes, as well as the threads, negatively electrised, and so repels, and is repelled by them. to confirm this, hold a slender light lock of cotton, two or three inches long, near a prime conductor, that is electrified by a glass globe, or tube. you will see the cotton stretch itself out towards the prime conductor. attempt to touch it with the finger of the other hand, and it will be repelled by the finger. approach it with a positively charged wire of a bottle, and it will fly to the wire. bring it near a negatively charged wire of a bottle, it will recede from that wire in the same manner that it did from the finger; which demonstrates the finger to be negatively electrised, as well as the lock of cotton so situated. _turkey killed by electricity_.--_effect of a shock on the operator in making the experiment._ as mr. franklin, in a former letter to mr. collinson, mentioned his intending to try the power of a very strong electrical shock upon a turkey, that gentleman accordingly has been so very obliging as to send an account of it, which is to the following purpose. he made first several experiments on fowls, and found, that two large thin glass jars gilt, holding each about six gallons, were sufficient, when fully charged, to kill common hens outright; but the turkeys, though thrown into violent convulsions, and then lying as dead for some minutes, would recover in less than a quarter of an hour. however, having added three other such to the former two, though not fully charged, he killed a turkey of about ten pounds weight, and believes that they would have killed a much larger. he conceited, as himself says, that the birds killed in this manner eat uncommonly tender. in making these experiments, he found, that a man could, without great detriment, bear a much greater shock than he had imagined: for he inadvertently received the stroke of two of these jars through his arms and body, when they were very near fully charged. it seemed to him an universal blow throughout the body from head to foot, and was followed by a violent quick trembling in the trunk, which went off gradually, in a few seconds. it was some minutes before he could recollect his thoughts, so as to know what was the matter; for he did not see the flash, though his eye was on the spot of the prime conductor, from whence it struck the back of his hand; nor did he hear the crack, though the by-standers said it was a loud one; nor did he particularly feel the stroke on his hand, though he afterwards found it had raised a swelling there, of the bigness of half a pistol-bullet. his arms and the back of the neck felt somewhat numbed the remainder of the evening, and his breast was sore for a week after as if it had been bruised. from this experiment may be seen the danger, even under the greatest caution, to the operator, when making these experiments with large jars; for it is not to be doubted, but several of these fully charged would as certainly, by increasing them, in proportion to the size, kill a man, as they before did a turkey. _n. b._ the original of this letter, which was read at the royal society, has been mislaid. to dr. l----[ ], at charles town, south carolina. _differences in the qualities of glass.--account of domien, an electrician and traveller.--conjectures respecting the pores of glass.--origin of the author's idea of drawing down lightning.--no satisfactory hypothesis respecting the manner in which clouds become electrified.--six men knocked down at once by an electrical shock.--reflections on the spirit of invention._ _philadelphia, march , ._ sir, i send you enclosed a paper containing some new experiments i have made, in pursuance of those by mr. canton that are printed with my last letters. i hope these, with my explanation of them, will afford you some entertainment[ ]. in answer to your several enquiries. the tubes and globes we use here, are chiefly made here. the glass has a greenish cast, but is clear and hard, and, i think, better for electrical experiments than the white glass of london, which is not so hard. there are certainly great differences in glass. a white globe i had made here some years since, would never, by any means, be excited. two of my friends tried it, as well as myself, without success. at length, putting it on an electric stand, a chain from the prime conductor being in contact with it, i found it had the properties of a non-electric; for i could draw sparks from any part of it, though it was very clean and dry. all i know of domien, is, that by his own account he was a native of transylvania, of tartar descent, but a priest of the greek church: he spoke and wrote latin very readily and correctly. he set out from his own country with an intention of going round the world, as much as possible by land. he travelled through germany, france, and holland, to england. resided some time at oxford. from england he came to maryland; thence went to new england; returned by land to philadelphia; and from hence travelled through maryland, virginia, and north carolina to you. he thought it might be of service to him in his travels to know something of electricity. i taught him the use of the tube; how to charge the leyden phial, and some other experiments. he wrote to me from charles-town, that he had lived eight hundred miles upon electricity, it had been meat, drink, and cloathing to him. his last letter to me was, i think, from jamaica, desiring me to send the tubes you mention, to meet him at the havannah, from whence he expected to get a passage to la vera cruz; designed travelling over land through mexico to acapulco; thence to get a passage to manilla, and so through china, india, persia, and turkey, home to his own country; proposing to support himself chiefly by electricity. a strange project! but he was, as you observe, a very singular character. i was sorry the tubes did not get to the havannah in time for him. if they are still in being, please to send for them, and accept of them. what became of him afterwards i have never heard. he promised to write to me as often as he could on his journey, and as soon as he should get home after finishing his tour. it is now seven years since he was here. if he is still in new spain, as you imagine from that loose report, i suppose it must be that they confine him there, and prevent his writing: but i think it more likely that he may be dead. the questions you ask about the pores of glass, i cannot answer otherwise, than that i know nothing of their nature; and suppositions, however ingenious, are often mere mistakes. my hypothesis, that they were smaller near the middle of the glass, too small to admit the passage of electricity, which could pass through the surface till it came near the middle, was certainly wrong: for soon after i had written that letter, i did, in order to _confirm_ the hypothesis (which indeed i ought to have done before i wrote it) make an experiment. i ground away five-sixths of the thickness of the glass, from the side of one of my phials, expecting that the supposed denser part being so removed, the electric fluid might come through the remainder of the glass, which i had imagined more open; but i found myself mistaken. the bottle charged as well after the grinding as before. i am now, as much as ever, at a loss to know how or where the quantity of electric fluid, on the positive side of the glass, is disposed of. as to the difference of conductors, there is not only this, that some will conduct electricity in small quantities, and yet do not conduct it fast enough to produce the shock; but even among those that will conduct a shock, there are some that do it better than others. mr. kinnersley has found, by a very good experiment, that when the charge of a bottle hath an opportunity of passing two ways, _i. e._ straight through a trough of water ten feet long, and six inches square; or round about through twenty feet of wire, it passes through the wire, and not through the water, though that is the shortest course; the wire being the better conductor. when the wire is taken away, it passes through the water, as may be felt by a hand plunged in the water; but it cannot be felt in the water when the wire is used at the same time. thus, though a small phial containing water will give a smart shock, one containing the same quantity of mercury will give one much stronger, the mercury being the better conductor; while one containing oil, only, will scarce give any shock at all. your question, how i came first to think of proposing the experiment of drawing down the lightning, in order to ascertain its sameness with the electric fluid, i cannot answer better than by giving you an extract from the minutes i used to keep of the experiments i made, with memorandums of such as i purposed to make, the reasons for making them, and the observations that arose upon them, from which minutes my letters were afterwards drawn. by this extract you will see that the thought was not so much "an out-of-the-way one," but that it might have occurred to an electrician. "nov. , . electrical fluid agrees with lightning in these particulars: . giving light. . colour of the light. . crooked direction. . swift motion. . being conducted by metals. . crack or noise in exploding. . subsisting in water or ice. . rending bodies it passes through. . destroying animals. . melting metals. . firing inflammable substances. . sulphureous smell.--the electric fluid is attracted by points.--we do not know whether this property is in lightning.--but since they agree in all the particulars wherein we can already compare them, is it not probable they agree likewise in this?--let the experiment be made." i wish i could give you any satisfaction in the article of clouds. i am still at a loss about the manner in which they become charged with electricity; no hypothesis i have yet formed perfectly satisfying me. some time since, i heated very hot a brass plate, two feet square, and placed it on an electric stand. from the plate a wire extended horizontally four or five feet, and, at the end of it, hung, by linen threads, a pair of cork balls. i then repeatedly sprinkled water over the plate, that it might be raised from it in vapour, hoping that if the vapour either carried off the electricity of the plate, or left behind it that of the water (one of which i supposed it must do, if, like the clouds, it became electrised itself, either positively or negatively) i should perceive and determine it by the separation of the balls, and by finding whether they were positive or negative; but no alteration was made at all, nor could i perceive that the steam was itself electrised, though i have still some suspicion that the steam was not fully examined, and i think the experiment should be repeated. whether the first state of electrised clouds is positive or negative, if i could find the cause of that, i should be at no loss about the other, for either is easily deduced from the other, as one state is easily produced by the other. a strongly positive cloud may drive out of a neighbouring cloud much of its natural quantity of the electric fluid, and, passing by it, leave it in a negative state. in the same way, a strongly negative cloud may occasion a neighbouring cloud to draw into itself from others, an additional quantity, and, passing by it, leave it in a positive state. how these effects may be produced, you will easily conceive, on perusing and considering the experiments in the enclosed paper: and from them too it appears probable, that every change from positive to negative, and from negative to positive, that, during a thunder-gust, we see in the cork-balls annexed to the apparatus, is not owing to the presence of clouds in the same state, but often to the absence of positive or negative clouds, that, having just passed, leave the rod in the opposite state. the knocking down of the six men was performed with two of my large jars not fully charged. i laid one end of my discharging rod upon the head of the first; he laid his hand on the head of the second; the second his hand on the head of the third, and so to the last, who held, in his hand, the chain that was connected with the outside of the jars. when they were thus placed, i applied the other end of my rod to the prime conductor, and they all dropped together. when they got up, they all declared they had not felt any stroke, and wondered how they came to fall; nor did any of them either hear the crack, or see the light of it. you suppose it a dangerous experiment; but i had once suffered the same myself, receiving, by accident, an equal stroke through my head, that struck me down, without hurting me: and i had seen a young woman that was about to be electrified through the feet (for some indisposition) receive a greater charge through the head, by inadvertently stooping forward to look at the placing of her feet, till her forehead (as she was very tall) came too near my prime conductor: she dropped, but instantly got up again, complaining of nothing. a person so struck, sinks down doubled, or folded together as it were, the joints losing their strength and stiffness at once, so that he drops on the spot where he stood, instantly, and there is no previous staggering, nor does he ever fall lengthwise. too great charge might, indeed, kill a man, but i have not yet seen any hurt done by it. it would certainly, as you observe, be the easiest of all deaths. the experiment you have heard so imperfect an account of, is merely this: i electrified a silver pint can, on an electric stand, and then lowered into it a cork ball, of about an inch diameter, hanging by a silk string, till the cork touched the bottom of the can. the cork was not attracted to the inside of the can as it would have been to the outside, and though it touched the bottom, yet, when drawn out, it was not found to be electrified by that touch, as it would have been by touching the outside. the fact is singular. you require the reason; i do not know it. perhaps you may discover it, and then you will be so good as to communicate it to me[ ]. i find a frank acknowledgment of one's ignorance is not only the easiest way to get rid of a difficulty, but the likeliest way to obtain information, and therefore i practise it: i think it an honest policy. those who affect to be thought to know every thing, and so undertake to explain every thing, often remain long ignorant of many things that others could and would instruct them in, if they appeared less conceited. the treatment your friend has met with is so common, that no man who knows what the world is, and ever has been, should expect to escape it. there are every where a number of people, who, being totally destitute of any inventive faculty themselves, do not readily conceive that others may possess it: they think of inventions as of miracles; there might be such formerly, but they are ceased. with these, every one who offers a new invention is deemed a pretender: he had it from some other country, or from some book: a man of _their own acquaintance_; one who has no more sense than themselves, could not possibly, in their opinion, have been the inventor of any thing. they are confirmed, too, in these sentiments, by frequent instances of pretensions to invention, which vanity is daily producing. that vanity too, though an incitement to invention, is, at the same time, the pest of inventors. jealousy and envy deny the merit or the novelty of your invention; but vanity, when the novelty and merit are established, claims it for its own. the smaller your invention is, the more mortification you receive in having the credit of it disputed with you by a rival, whom the jealousy and envy of others are ready to support against you, at least so far as to make the point doubtful. it is not in itself of importance enough for a dispute; no one would think your proofs and reasons worth their attention: and yet, if you do not dispute the point, and demonstrate your right, you not only lose the credit of being in that instance _ingenious_, but you suffer the disgrace of not being _ingenuous_; not only of being a plagiary, but of being a plagiary for trifles. had the invention been greater it would have disgraced you less; for men have not so contemptible an idea of him that robs for gold on the highway, as of him that can pick pockets for half-pence and farthings. thus, through envy, jealousy, and the vanity of competitors for fame, the origin of many of the most extraordinary inventions, though produced within but a few centuries past, is involved in doubt and uncertainty. we scarce know to whom we are indebted for the _compass_, and for _spectacles_, nor have even _paper_ and _printing_, that record every thing else, been able to preserve with certainty the name and reputation of their inventors. one would not, therefore, of all faculties, or qualities of the mind, wish, for a friend, or a child, that he should have that of invention. for his attempts to benefit mankind in that way, however well imagined, if they do not succeed, expose him, though very unjustly, to general ridicule and contempt; and, if they do succeed, to envy, robbery, and abuse. i am, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] dr. lining.--editor. [ ] see page , for the paper here mentioned. [ ] mr. f. has since thought, that, possibly, the mutual repulsion of the inner opposite sides of the electrised can may prevent the accumulating an electric atmosphere upon them, and occasion it to stand chiefly on the outside. but recommends it to the farther examination of the curious. to mons. dalibard, at paris, inclosed in a letter to mr. peter collinson, f. r. s. _beccaria's work on electricity.--sentiments of franklin on pointed rods, not fully understood in europe.--effect of lightning on the church of newbury, in new england.--remarks on the subject._ read at the royal society, dec. , . _philadelphia, june , ._ sir, you desire my opinion of pere beccaria's italian book[ ]. i have read it with much pleasure, and think it one of the best pieces on the subject that i have seen in any language. yet as to the article of water-spouts, i am not at present of his sentiments; though i must own with you, that he has handled it very ingeniously. mr. collinson has my opinion of whirlwinds and water-spouts at large, written some time since. i know not whether they will be published; if not, i will get them transcribed for your perusal[ ]. it does not appear to me that pere beccaria doubts of the _absolute impermeability of glass_ in the sense i meant it; for the instances he gives of holes made through glass by the electric stroke are such as we have all experienced, and only show that the electric fluid could not pass without making a hole. in the same manner we say, glass is impermeable to water, and yet a stream from a fire-engine will force through the strongest panes of a window. as to the effect of points in drawing the electric matter from clouds, and thereby securing buildings, &c. which, you say, he seems to doubt, i must own i think he only speaks modestly and judiciously. i find i have been but partly understood in that matter. i have mentioned it in several of my letters, and except once, always in the _alternative, viz_. that pointed rods erected on buildings, and communicating with the moist earth, would either _prevent_ a stroke, _or_, if not prevented, would _conduct_ it, so as that the building should suffer no damage. yet whenever my opinion is examined in europe, nothing is considered but the probability of those rods _preventing_ a stroke or explosion, which is only a _part_ of the use i proposed for them; and the other part, their conducting a stroke, which they may happen not to prevent, seems to be totally forgotten, though of equal importance and advantage. i thank you for communicating m. de buffon's relation of the effect of lightning at dijon, on the th of june last. in return, give me leave to relate an instance i lately saw of the same kind. being in the town of newbury in new england, in november last, i was shewn the effect of lightning on their church, which had been struck a few months before. the steeple was a square tower of wood, reaching seventy feet up from the ground to the place where the bell hung, over which rose a taper spire, of wood likewise, reaching seventy feet higher, to the vane of the weather-cock. near the bell was fixed an iron hammer to strike the hours; and from the tail of the hammer a wire went down through a small gimlet-hole in the floor that the bell stood upon, and through a second floor in like manner; then horizontally under and near the plaistered cieling of that second floor, till it came near a plaistered wall; then down by the side of that wall to a clock, which stood about twenty feet below the bell. the wire was not bigger than a common knitting-needle. the spire was split all to pieces by the lightning, and the parts flung in all directions over the square in which the church stood, so that nothing remained above the bell. the lightning passed between the hammer and the clock in the above-mentioned wire, without hurting either of the floors, or having any effect upon them (except making the gimlet-holes, through which the wire passed, a little bigger,) and without hurting the plaistered wall, or any part of the building, so far as the aforesaid wire and the pendulum wire of the clock extended; which latter wire was about the thickness of a goose-quill. from the end of the pendulum, down quite to the ground, the building was exceedingly rent and damaged, and some stones in the foundation-wall torn out, and thrown to the distance of twenty or thirty feet. no part of the afore-mentioned long small wire, between the clock and the hammer, could be found, except about two inches that hung to the tail of the hammer, and about as much that was fastened to the clock; the rest being exploded, and its particles dissipated in smoke and air, as gunpowder is by common fire, and had only left a black smutty track on the plaistering, three or four inches broad, darkest in the middle, and fainter toward the edges, all along the cieling, under which it passed, and down the wall. these were the effects and appearances; on which i would only make the few following remarks, viz. . that lightning, in its passage through a building, will leave wood to pass as far as it can in metal, and not enter the wood again till the conductor of metal ceases. and the same i have observed in other instances, as to walls of brick or stone. . the quantity of lightning that passed through this steeple must have been very great, by its effects on the lofty spire above the bell, and on the square tower all below the end of the clock pendulum. . great as this quantity was, it was conducted by a small wire and a clock pendulum, without the least damage to the building so far as they extended. . the pendulum rod being of a sufficient thickness, conducted the lightning without damage to itself; but the small wire was utterly destroyed. . though the small wire was itself destroyed, yet it had conducted the lightning with safety to the building. . and from the whole it seems probable, that if even such a small wire had been extended from the spindle of the vane to the earth, before the storm, no damage would have been done to the steeple by that stroke of lightning, though the wire itself had been destroyed. footnotes: [ ] this work is written conformable to mr. franklin's theory, upon artificial and natural electricity, which compose the two parts of it. it was printed in italian, at turin, in to. ; between the two parts is a letter to the abbé nollet, in defence of mr. franklin's system. _j. bevis._ [ ] these papers will be found in vol ii. _editor._ to peter collinson, esq. f. r. s. london. _notice of another packet of letters._ _philadelphia, nov. , _. dear friend. in my last, via virginia, i promised to send you per next ship, a small philosophical packet: but now having got the materials (old letters and rough drafts) before me, i fear you will find it a great one. nevertheless, as i am like to have a few days leisure before this ship sails, which i may not have again in a long time, i shall transcribe the whole, and send it; for you will be under no necessity of reading it all at once, but may take it a little at a time, now and then of a winter evening. when you happen to have nothing else to do (if that ever happens) it may afford you some amusement[ ]. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] these letters and papers are a philosophical correspondence between mr. franklin and some of his american friends[ ]. mr. collinson communicated them to the royal society, where they were read at different meetings during the year . but mr. franklin having particularly requested that they might not be printed, none of them were inserted in the transactions. mr. f. had at that time an intention of revising them, and pursuing some of the enquiries farther; but finding that he is not like to have sufficient leisure, he has at length been induced, imperfect as they are, to permit their publication, as some of the hints they contain may possibly be useful to others in their philosophical researches. note in mr. collinson's edition. [ ] as some of these papers are upon subjects not immediately connected with electricity, we have taken such papers from the order in which they were placed by mr. collinson, and transferred them to other parts of the work. _editor._ _extract of a letter from a gentleman in boston[ ], to benjamin franklin, esq. concerning the crooked direction, and the source of lightning, and the swiftness of the electric fire._ _boston, dec. , ._ sir, the experiments mr. k. has exhibited here, have been greatly pleasing to all sorts of people that have seen them; and i hope, by the time he returns to philadelphia, his tour this way will turn to good account. his experiments are very curious, and i think prove most effectually your doctrine of electricity; that it is a real element, annexed to, and diffused among all bodies we are acquainted with; that it differs in nothing from lightning, the effects of both being similar, and their properties, so far as they are known, the same, &c. the remarkable effect of lightning on iron, lately discovered, in giving it the magnetic virtue, and the same effect produced on small needles by the electrical fire, is a further and convincing proof that they are both the same element; but, which is very unaccountable, mr. k. tells me, it is necessary to produce this effect, that the direction of the needle and the electric fire should be north and south; from either to the other, and that just so far as they deviate therefrom, the magnetic power in the needle is less, till their direction being at right angles with the north and south, the effect entirely ceases. we made at faneuil hall, where mr. k----'s apparatus is, several experiments to give some small needles the magnetic virtue; previously examining, by putting them in water, on which they will be supported, whether or not they had any of that virtue; and i think we found all of them to have some small degree of it, their points turning to the north: we had nothing to do then but to invert the poles, which accordingly was done, by sending through them the charge of two large glass jars; the eye of the needle turning to the north, as the point before had done; that end of the needle which the fire is thrown upon, mr. k. tells me always points to the north. the electrical fire passing through air has the same crooked direction as lightning[ ]. this appearance i endeavour to account for thus: air is an electric _per se_, therefore there must be a mutual repulsion betwixt air and the electrical fire. a column or cylinder of air, having the diameter of its base equal to the diameter of the electrical spark, intervenes that part of the body which the spark is taken from, and of the body it aims at. the spark acts upon this column, and is acted upon by it, more strongly than any other neighbouring portion of air. the column, being thus acted upon, becomes more dense, and, being more dense, repels the spark more strongly; its repellency being in proportion to its density: having acquired, by being condensed, a degree of repellency greater than its natural, it turns the spark out of its strait course; the neighbouring air, which must be less dense, and therefore has a smaller degree of repellency, giving it a more ready passage. the spark, having taken a new direction, must now act on, or most strongly repel the column of air which lies in that direction, and consequently must condense that column in the same manner as the former, when the spark must again change its course, which course will be thus repeatedly changed, till the spark reaches the body that attracted it. to this account one objection occurs; that as air is very fluid and elastic, and so endeavours to diffuse itself equally, the supposed accumulated air within the column aforesaid, would be immediately diffused among the contiguous air, and circulate to fill the space it was driven from; and consequently that the said column, on the greater density of which the phenomenon is supposed to depend, would not repel the spark more strongly than the neighbouring air. this might be an objection, if the electrical fire was as sluggish and inactive as air. air takes a sensible time to diffuse itself equally, as is manifest from winds which often blow for a considerable time together from the same point, and with a velocity even in the greatest storms, not exceeding, as it is said, sixty miles an hour: but the electric fire seems propagated instantaneously, taking up no perceptible time in going very great distances. it must then be an inconceivably short time in its progress from an electrified to an unelectrified body, which, in the present case, can be but a few inches apart: but this small portion of time is not sufficient for the elasticity of the air to exert itself, and therefore the column aforesaid must be in a denser state than its neighbouring air. about the velocity of the electric fire more is said below, which perhaps may more fully obviate this objection. but let us have recourse to experiments. experiments will obviate all objections, or confound the hypothesis. the electric spark, if the foregoing be true, will pass through a vacuum in a right line. to try this, let a wire be fixed perpendicularly on the plate of an air pump, having a leaden ball on its upper end; let another wire, passing through the top of a receiver, have on each end a leaden ball; let the leaden balls within the receiver, when put on the air pump, be within two or three inches of each other: the receiver being exhausted, the spark given from a charged phial to the upper wire will pass through rarefied air, nearly approaching to a vacuum, to the lower wire, and i suppose in a right line, or nearly so; the small portion of air remaining in the receiver, which cannot be entirely exhausted, may possibly cause it to deviate a little, but perhaps not sensibly, from a right line. the spark also might be made to pass through air greatly condensed, which perhaps would give a still more crooked direction. i have not had opportunity to make any experiments of this sort, not knowing of an air-pump nearer than cambridge, but you can easily make them. if these experiments answer, i think the crooked direction of lightning will be also accounted for. with respect to your letters on electricity, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *. your hypothesis in particular for explaining the phenomena of lightning is very ingenious. that some clouds are highly charged with electrical fire, and that their communicating it to those that have less, to mountains and other eminencies, makes it visible and audible, when it is denominated lightning and thunder, is highly probable: but that the sea, which you suppose the grand source of it, can collect it, i think admits of a doubt: for though the sea be composed of salt and water, an electric _per se_ and non-electric, and though the friction of electrics _per se_ and non-electrics, will collect that fire, yet it is only under certain circumstances, which water will not admit. for it seems necessary, that the electrics _per se_ and non-electrics rubbing one another, should be of such substances as will not adhere to, or incorporate with each other. thus a glass or sulphur sphere turned in water, and so a friction between them, will not collect any fire; nor, i suppose, would a sphere of salt revolving in water; the water adhering to, or incorporating with those electrics _per se_. but granting that the friction between salt and water would collect the electrical fire, that fire, being so extremely subtle and active, would be immediately communicated, either to those lower parts of the sea from which it was drawn, and so only perform quick revolutions; or be communicated to the adjacent islands or continent, and so be diffused instantaneously through the general mass of the earth. i say instantaneously, for the greatest distances we can conceive within the limits of our globe, even that of the two most opposite points, it will take no sensible time in passing through: and therefore it seems a little difficult to conceive how there can be any accumulation of the electrical fire upon the surface of the sea or how the vapours arising from the sea should have a greater share of that fire than other vapours. that the progress of the electrical fire is so amazingly swift, seems evident from an experiment you yourself (not out of choice) made, when two or three large glass jars were discharged through your body. you neither heard the crack, was sensible of the stroke, nor, which is more extraordinary, saw the light; which gave you just reason to conclude, that it was swifter than sound, than animal sensation, and even light itself. now light (as astronomers have demonstrated) is about six minutes passing from the sun to the earth; a distance, they say, of more than eighty millions of miles. the greatest rectilinear distance within the compass of the earth is about eight thousand miles, equal to its diameter. supposing then, that the velocity of the electric fire be the same as that of light, it will go through a space equal to the earth's diameter in about / of one second of a minute. it seems inconceivable then, that it should be accumulated upon the sea, in its present state, which, as it is a non-electric, must give the fire an instantaneous passage to the neighbouring shores, and they convey it to the general mass of the earth. but such accumulation seems still more inconceivable when the electrical fire has but a few feet depth of water to penetrate, to return to the place from whence it is supposed to be collected. your thoughts upon these remarks i shall receive with a great deal of pleasure. i take notice that in the printed copies of your letters several things are wanting which are in the manuscript you sent me. i understand by your son, that you had writ, or was writing, a paper on the effect of the electrical fire on loadstones, needles, &c. which i would ask the favour of a copy of, as well as of any other papers on electricity, written since i had the manuscript, for which i repeat my obligations to you. i am, &c. j. b. footnotes: [ ] mr. badouin. _editor._ [ ] this is most easily observed in large strong sparks taken at some inches distance. to j. b. at boston. _observations on the subjects of the preceding letter.--reasons for supposing the sea to be the grand source of lightning.--reasons for doubting this hypothesis.--improvement in a globe for raising the electric fire._ read at the royal society, may , . _philadelphia, jan. , ._ sir, i am glad to learn, by your favour of the st past, that mr. kinnersley's lectures have been acceptable to the gentlemen of boston, and are like to prove serviceable to himself. i thank you for the countenance and encouragement you have so kindly afforded my fellow-citizen. i send you enclosed an extract of a letter containing the substance of what i observed concerning the communication of magnetism to needles by electricity. the minutes i took at the time of the experiments are mislaid. i am very little acquainted with the nature of magnetism. dr. gawin knight, inventor of the steel magnets, has wrote largely on that subject, but i have not yet had leisure to peruse his writings with the attention necessary to become master of his doctrine. your explication of the crooked direction of lightning appears to me both ingenious and solid. when we can account as satisfactorily for the electrification of clouds, i think that branch of natural philosophy will be nearly complete. the air, undoubtedly, obstructs the motion of the electric fluid. dry air prevents the dissipation of an electric atmosphere, the denser the more, as in cold weather. i question whether such an atmosphere can be retained by a body _in vacuo_. a common electrical phial requires a non-electric communication from the wire to every part of the charged glass; otherwise, being dry and clean, and filled with air only, it charges slowly, and discharges gradually, by sparks, without a shock: but, exhausted of air, the communication is so open and free between the inserted wire and surface of the glass, that it charges as readily, and shocks as smartly as if filled with water: and i doubt not, but that in the experiment you propose, the sparks would not only be near strait _in vacuo_, but strike at a greater distance than in the open air, though perhaps there would not be a loud explosion. as soon as i have a little leisure, i will make the experiment, and send you the result. my supposition, that the sea might possibly be the grand source of lightning, arose from the common observation of its luminous appearance in the night, on the least motion; an appearance never observed in fresh water. then i knew that the electric fluid may be pumped up out of the earth, by the friction of a glass globe, on a non-electric cushion; and that, notwithstanding the surprising activity and swiftness of that fluid, and the non-electric communication between all parts of the cushion and the earth, yet quantities would be snatched up by the revolving surface of the globe, thrown on the prime conductor, and dissipated in air. how this was done, and why that subtle active spirit did not immediately return again from the globe, into some part or other of the cushion, and so into the earth, was difficult to conceive; but whether from its being opposed by a current setting upwards to the cushion, or from whatever other cause, that it did not so return was an evident fact. then i considered the separate particles of water as so many hard spherules, capable of touching the salt only in points, and imagined a particle of salt could therefore no more be wet by a particle of water, than a globe by a cushion; that there might therefore be such a friction between these originally constituent particles of salt and water, as in a sea of globes and cushions; that each particle of water on the surface might obtain from the common mass, some particles of the universally diffused, much finer, and more subtle electric fluid, and forming to itself an atmosphere of those particles, be repelled from the then generally electrified surface of the sea, and fly away with them into the air. i thought too, that possibly the great mixture of particles electric _per se_, in the ocean water, might, in some degree, impede the swift motion and dissipation of the electric fluid, through it to the shores, &c.--but having since found, that salt in the water of an electric phial does not lessen the shock; and having endeavoured in vain to produce that luminous appearance from a mixture of salt and water agitated; and observed, that even the sea-water will not produce it after some hours standing in a bottle; i suspect it to proceed from some principle yet unknown to us (which i would gladly make some experiments to discover, if i lived near the sea) and i grow more doubtful of my former supposition, and more ready to allow weight to that objection (drawn from the activity of the electric fluid, and the readiness of water to conduct) which you have indeed stated with great strength and clearness. in the mean time, before we part with this hypothesis, let us think what to substitute in its place. i have sometimes queried whether the friction of the air, an electric _per se_, in violent winds, among trees, and against the surface of the earth, might not pump up, as so many glass globes, quantities of the electric fluid, which the rising vapours might receive from the air, and retain in the clouds they form? on which i should be glad to have your sentiments. an ingenious friend of mine supposes the land-clouds more likely to be electrified than the sea-clouds. i send his letter for your perusal, which please to return me. i have wrote nothing lately on electricity, nor observed any thing new that is material, my time being much taken up with other affairs. yesterday i discharged four jars through a fine wire, tied up between two strips of glass: the wire was in part melted, and the rest broke into small pieces, from half an inch long, to half a quarter of an inch. my globe raises the electric fire with greater ease, in much greater quantities, by the means of a wire extended from the cushion, to the iron pin of a pump handle behind my house, which communicates by the pump spear with the water in the well. by this post i send to ****, who is curious in that way, some meteorological observations and conjectures, and desire him to communicate them to you, as they may afford you some amusement, and i know you will look over them with a candid eye. by throwing our occasional thoughts on paper, we more readily discover the defects of our opinions, or we digest them better and find new arguments to support them. this i sometimes practise: but such pieces are fit only to be seen by friends. i am, &c. b. franklin. from j. b. esq. of boston, to benjamin franklin, esq. at philadelphia. _effect of lightning on captain waddel's compass, and the dutch church at new york._ read at the royal society, june , . _boston, march , ._ sir, i have received your favour of the th of january past, inclosing an extract from your letter to mr. collinson, and ****'s letter to yourself, which i have read with a great deal of pleasure, and am much obliged to you for. your extract confirms a correction mr. kinnersley made a few days ago, of a mistake i was under respecting the polarity given to needles by the electrical fire, "that the end which receives the fire always points north;" and, "that the needle being situated east and west, will not have a polar direction." you find, however, the polarity strongest when the needle is shocked lying north and south; weakest when lying east and west; which makes it probable that the communicated magnetism is less, as the needle varies from a north and south situation. as to the needle of captain waddel's compass, if its polarity was reversed by the lightning, the effect of lightning and electricity, in regard of that, seems dissimilar; for a magnetic needle in a north and south situation (as the compass needle was) instead of having its power reversed, or even diminished, would have it confirmed or increased by the electric fire. but perhaps the lightning communicated to some nails in the binnacle (where the compass is placed) the magnetic virtue, which might disturb the compass. this i have heard was the case; if so, the seeming dissimilarity vanishes: but this remarkable circumstance (if it took place) i should think would not be omitted in captain waddel's account. i am very much pleased that the explication i sent you, of the crooked direction of lightning, meets with your approbation. as to your supposition about the source of lightning, the luminous appearance of the sea in the night, and the similitude between the friction of the particles of salt and water, as you considered them in their original separate state, and the friction of the globe and cushion, very naturally led you to the ocean, as the grand source of lightning: but the activity of lightning, or the electric element, and the fitness of water to conduct it, together with the experiments you mention of salt and water, seem to make against it, and to prepare the way for some other hypothesis. accordingly you propose a new one, which is very curious, and not so liable, i think, to objections as the former. but there is not as yet, i believe, a sufficient variety of experiments to establish any theory, though this seems the most hopeful of any i have heard of. the effect which the discharge of your four glass jars had upon a fine wire, tied between two strips of glass, puts me in mind of a very similar one of lightning, that i observed at new-york, october, , a few days after i left philadelphia. in company with a number of gentlemen, i went to take a view of the city from the dutch church steeple, in which is a clock about twenty or twenty-five feet below the bell. from the clock went a wire through two floors, to the clock-hammer near the bell, the holes in the floor for the wire being perhaps about a quarter of an inch diameter. we were told, that in the spring of , the lightning struck the clock hammer, and descended along the wire to the clock, melting in its way several spots of the wire, from three to nine inches long, through one-third of its substance, till coming within a few feet of the lower end, it melted the wire quite through, in several places, so that it fell down in several pieces; which spots and pieces we saw. when it got to the end of the wire, it flew off to the hinge of a door, shattered the door, and dissipated. in its passage through the holes of the floors it did not do the least damage, which evidences that wire is a good conductor of lightning (as it is of electricity) provided it be substantial enough, and might, in this case, had it been continued to the earth, have conducted it without damaging the building.[ ] your information about your globe's raising the electric fire in greater quantities, by means of a wire extended from the cushion to the earth, will enable me, i hope, to remedy a great inconvenience i have been under, to collect the fire with the electrifying glass i use, which is fixed in a very dry room, three stories from the ground. when you send your meteorological observations to ****, i hope i shall have the pleasure of seeing them. i am, &c. j. b. footnote: [ ] the wire mentioned in this account was re-placed by a small brass chain. in the summer of , the lightning again struck that steeple, and from the clock-hammer near the bell, it pursued the chain as it had before done the wire, went off to the same hinge, and again shattered the same door. in its passage through the same holes of the same floors, it did no damage to the floors, nor to the building during the whole extent of the chain. but the chain itself was destroyed, being partly scattered about in fragments of two or three links melted and stuck together, and partly blown up or reduced to smoke, and dissipated. [see an account of the same effect of lightning on a wire at newbury, p. .] the steeple, when repaired, was guarded by an iron conductor, or rod, extending from the foot of the vane-spindle down the outside of the building, into the earth. the newspapers have mentioned, that in , the lightning fell a third time on the same steeple, and was safely conducted by the rod; but the particulars are not come to hand. _proposal of an experiment to measure the time taken up by an electric spark, in moving through any given space. by j. a.[ ] esq. of new-york._ read at the royal society, dec , . if i remember right, the royal society made one experiment to discover the velocity of the electric fire, by a wire of about four miles in length, supported by silk, and by turning it forwards and backwards in a field, so that the beginning and end of the wire were at only the distance of two people, the one holding the leyden bottle and the beginning of the wire, and the other holding the end of the wire and touching the ring of the bottle; but by this experiment no discovery was made, except that the velocity was extremely quick. as water is a conductor as well as metals, it is to be considered whether the velocity of the electric fire might not be discovered by means of water; whether a river, or lake, or sea, may not be made part of the circuit through which the electric fire passes? instead of the circuit all of wire, as in the above experiment. whether in a river, lake, or sea, the electric fire will not dissipate and not return to the bottle? or, will it proceed in strait lines through the water the shortest courses possible back to the bottle? if the last, then suppose one brook that falls into delaware doth head very near to a brook that falls into schuylkil, and let a wire be stretched and supported as before, from the head of the one brook to the head of the other, and let the one end communicate with the water, and let one person stand in the other brook, holding the leyden bottle, and let another person hold that end of the wire not in the water, and touch the ring of the bottle.--if the electric fire will go as in the last question, then will it go down the one brook to delaware or schuylkill, and down one of them to their meeting, and up the other and the other brook; the time of its doing this may possibly be observable, and the further upwards the brooks are chosen, the more observable it would be. should this be not observable, then suppose the two brooks falling into sasquehana and delaware, and proceeding as before, the electric fire may, by that means, make a circuit round the north cape of virginia, and go many hundreds of miles, and in doing that, it would seem it must take some observable time. if still no observable time is found in that experiment, then suppose the brooks falling the one into the ohio, and the other into sasquehana, or potomack, in that the electric fire would have a circuit of some thousands of miles to go down ohio to mississippi, to the bay of mexico, round florida, and round the south cape of virginia; which, i think, would give some observable time, and discover exactly the velocity. but if the electric fire dissipates, or weakens in the water, as i fear it does, these experiments will not answer. _answer to the foregoing_. read at the royal society, dec. , . suppose a tube of any length open at both ends, and containing a moveable wire of just the same length, that fills its bore. if i attempt to introduce the end of another wire into the same tube, it must be done by pushing forward the wire it already contains; and the instant i press and move one end of that wire, the other end is also moved; and in introducing one inch of the same wire, i extrude, at the same time, an inch of the first, from the other end of the tube. if the tube be filled with water, and i inject an additional inch of water at one end, i force out an equal quantity at the other, in the very same instant. and the water forced out at one end of the tube is not the very same water that was forced in at the other end at the same time, it was only in motion at the same time. the long wire, made use of in the experiment to discover the velocity of the electric fluid, is itself filled with what we call its natural quantity of that fluid, before the hook of the leyden bottle is applied to one end of it. the outside of the bottle being at the time of such application in contact with the other end of the wire, the whole quantity of electric fluid contained in the wire is, probably, put in motion at once. for at the instant the hook, connected with the inside of the bottle, _gives out_; the coating, or outside of the bottle, _draws in_ a portion of that fluid. if such long wire contains precisely the quantity that the outside of the bottle demands, the whole will move out of the wire to the outside of the bottle, and the over quantity which the inside of the bottle contained, being exactly equal, will flow into the wire, and remain there, in the place of the quantity the wire had just parted with to the outside of the bottle. but if the wire be so long as that one-tenth (suppose) of its natural quantity is sufficient to supply what the outside of the bottle demands, in such case the outside will only receive what is contained in one-tenth of the wire's length, from the end next to it; though the whole will move so as to make room at the other end for an equal quantity issuing, at the same time, from the inside of the bottle. so that this experiment only shews the extreme facility with which the electric fluid moves in metal; it can never determine the velocity. and, therefore, the proposed experiment (though well imagined, and very ingenious) of sending the spark round through a vast length of space, by the waters of susquehannah, or potowmack, and ohio, would not afford the satisfaction desired, though we could be sure that the motion of the electric fluid would be in that tract, and not under ground in the wet earth by the shortest way. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] james alexander. _editor._ from mr. kinnersley to b. franklin, esq. _experiments on boiling water, and glass heated by boiling water.--doctrine of repulsion in electrised bodies doubted.--electricity of the atmosphere at different heights.--electrical horse-race.--electrical thermometer.--in what cases the electrical fire produces heat.--wire lengthened by electricity.--good effect of a rod on the house of mr. west, of philadelphia._ _philadelphia, march , ._ sir, having lately made the following experiments, i very chearfully communicate them, in hopes of giving you some degree of pleasure, and exciting you to further explore your favorite, but not quite exhausted subject, _electricity_. i placed myself on an electric stand, and, being well electrised, threw my hat to an unelectrised person, at a considerable distance, on another stand, and found that the hat carried some of the electricity with it; for, upon going immediately to the person who received it, and holding a flaxen thread near him, i perceived he was electrised sufficiently to attract the thread. i then suspended, by silk, a broad plate of metal, and electrised some boiling water under it at about four feet distance, expecting that the vapour, which ascended plentifully to the plate, would, upon the principle of the foregoing experiment, carry up some of the electricity with it; but was at length fully convinced, by several repeated trials, that it left all its share thereof behind. this i know not how to account for; but does it not seem to corroborate your hypothesis, that the vapours of which the clouds are formed, leave their share of electricity behind, in the common stock, and ascend in the negative state? i put boiling water into a coated florence flask, and found that the heat so enlarged the pores of the glass, that it could not be charged. the electricity passed through as readily, to all appearance, as through metal; the charge of a three-pint bottle went freely through, without injuring the flask in the least. when it became almost cold, i could charge it as usual. would not this experiment convince the abbé nollet of his egregious mistake? for while the electricity went fairly through the glass, as he contends it always does, the glass could not be charged at all. i took a slender piece of cedar, about eighteen inches long, fixed a brass cap in the middle, thrust a pin horizontally and at right angles, through each end (the points in contrary directions) and hung it, nicely balanced, like the needle of a compass, on a pin, about six inches long, fixed in the centre of an electric stand. then, electrising the stand, i had the pleasure of seeing what i expected; the wooden needle turned round, carrying the pins with their heads foremost. i then electrised the stand negatively, expecting the needle to turn the contrary way, but was extremely disappointed, for it went still the same way as before. when the stand was electrised positively, i suppose that the natural quantity of electricity in the air being increased on one side, by what issued from the points, the needle was attracted by the lesser quantity on the other side. when electrised negatively, i suppose that the natural quantity of electricity in the air was diminished near the points; in consequence whereof, the equilibrium being destroyed, the needle was attracted by the greater quantity on the opposite side. the doctrine of repulsion, in electrised bodies, i begin to be somewhat doubtful of. i think all the phenomena on which it is founded, may be well enough accounted for without it. will not cork balls, electrised negatively, separate as far as when electrised positively? and may not their separation in both cases be accounted for upon the same principle, namely, the mutual attraction of the natural quantity in the air, and that which is denser or rarer in the cork balls? it being one of the established laws of this fluid, that quantities of different densities shall mutually attract each other, in order to restore the equilibrium. i can see no reason to conclude that the air has not its share of the common stock of electricity, as well as glass, and perhaps, all other electrics _per se_. for though the air will admit bodies to be electrised in it either positively or negatively, and will not readily carry off the redundancy in the one case, or supply the deficiency in the other, yet let a person in the negative state, out of doors in the dark, when the air is dry, hold, with his arm extended, a long sharp needle, pointing upwards, and he will soon be convinced that electricity may be drawn out of the air; not very plentifully, for, being a bad conductor, it seems loth to part with it, but yet some will evidently be collected. the air near the person's body, having less than its natural quantity, will have none to spare; but, his arm being extended, as above, some will be collected from the remoter air, and will appear luminous, as it converges to the point of the needle. let a person electrised negatively present the point of a needle, horizontally, to a cork ball, suspended by silk, and the ball will be attracted towards the point, till it has parted with so much of its natural quantity of electricity as to be in the negative state in the same degree with the person who holds the needle; then it will recede from the point, being, as i suppose, attracted the contrary way by the electricity of greater density in the air behind it. but, as this opinion seems to deviate from electrical orthodoxy, i should be glad to see these phenomena better accounted for by your superior and more penetrating genius. whether the electricity in the air, in clear dry weather, be of the same density at the height of two or three hundred yards, as near the surface of the earth, may be satisfactorily determined by your old experiment of the kite. the twine should have throughout a very small wire in it, and the ends of the wire, where the several lengths are united, ought to be tied down with a waxed thread, to prevent their acting in the manner of points. i have tried the experiment twice, when the air was as dry as we ever have it, and so clear that not a cloud could be seen, and found the twine each time in a small degree electrised positively. the kite had three metalline points fixed to it: one on the top, and one on each side. that the twine was electrised, appeared by the separating of two small cork balls, suspended on the twine by fine flaxen threads, just above where the silk was tied to it, and sheltered from the wind. that the twine was electrised positively, was proved, by applying to it the wire of a charged bottle, which caused the balls to separate further, without first coming nearer together. this experiment showed, that the electricity in the air, at those times, was denser above than below. but that cannot be always the case; for you know we have frequently found the thunder-clouds in the negative state, attracting electricity from the earth; which state, it is probable, they are always in when first formed, and till they have received a sufficient supply. how they come afterwards, towards the latter end of the gust, to be in the positive state, which is sometimes the case, is a subject for further enquiry. after the above experiments with the wooden needle, i formed a cross, of two pieces of wood, of equal length, intersecting each other at right angles in the middle, hung it horizontally upon a central pin, and set a light horse with his rider, upon each extremity; whereupon, the whole being nicely balanced, and each courser urged on by an electrised point of a pair of spurs, i was entertained with an electrical horse-race. i have contrived an electrical air thermometer, and made several experiments with it, that have afforded me much satisfaction and pleasure. it is extremely sensible of any alteration in the state of the included air, and fully determines that controverted point, whether there be any heat in the electric fire? by the enclosed draught, and the following description, you will readily apprehend the construction of it. (see plate ii.) a b is a glass tube, about eleven inches long, and one inch diameter in the bore. it has a brass ferrule cemented on each end, with a top and bottom part, c and d, to be screwed on, air-tight, and taken off at pleasure. in the centre of the bottom part d, is a male screw, which goes into a brass nut, in the mahogany pedestal e. the wires f and g are for the electric fire to pass through, darting from one to the other. the wire g extends through the pedestal to h, and may be raised and lowered by means of a male screw on it. the wire f may be taken out, and the hook i be screwed into its place. k is a glass tube, with a small bore, open at both ends, cemented in the brass tube l which screws into the top part c. the lower end of the tube k is immersed in water, coloured with cochineal, at the bottom of the tube a b. (i used, at first, coloured spirits of wine, but in one experiment i made, it took fire.) on the top of the tube k is cemented, for ornament, a brass ferrule, with a head screwed on it, which has a small air-hole through its side, at _a_. the wire _b_, is a small round spring, that embraces the tube k, so as to stay wherever it is placed. the weight m is to keep strait whatever may be suspended in the tube a b, on the hook i. air must be blown through the tube k, into the tube a b, till enough is intruded to raise, by its elastic force, a column of the coloured water in the tube k, up to _c_, or thereabouts; and then, the gage-wire _b_, being slipt down to the top of the column, the thermometer is ready for use. [illustration: (of the experiment below) _plate ii._ _vol. i. page ._ _published as the act directs, april , , by longman, hurst, rees & orme, paternoster row._] i set the thermometer on an electric stand, with the chain n fixed to the prime conductor, and kept it well electrised a considerable time; but this produced no sensible effect; which shews, that the electric fire, when in a state of rest, has no more heat than the air, and other matter wherein it resides. when the wires f and g are in contact, a large charge of electricity sent through them, even that of my case of five and thirty bottles, containing above thirty square feet of coated glass, will produce no rarefaction of the air included in the tube a b; which shows that the wires are not heated by the fire's passing through them. when the wires are about two inches apart, the charge of a three pint bottle, darting from one to the other, rarefies the air very evidently; which shows, i think, that the electric fire must produce heat in itself, as well as in the air, by its rapid motion. the charge of one of my glass jars (which will contain about five gallons and a half, wine measure) darting from wire to wire, will, by the disturbance it gives the air, repelling it in all directions, raise the column in the tube k, up to _d_, or thereabouts; and the charge of the above-mentioned case of bottles will raise it to the top of the tube. upon the air's coalescing, the column, by its gravity, instantly subsides, till it is in equilibrio with the rarefied air; it then gradually descends as the air cools, and settles where it stood before. by carefully observing at what height above the gage-wire _b_, the descending column first stops, the degree of rarefaction is discovered, which, in great explosions, is very considerable. i hung in the thermometer, successively, a strip of wet writing paper, a wet flaxen and woollen thread, a blade of green grass, a filament of green wood, a fine silver thread, a very small brass wire, and a strip of gilt paper; and found that the charge of the above-mentioned glass jar, passing through each of these, especially the last, produced heat enough to rarefy the air very perceptibly. i then suspended, out of the thermometer, a piece of small harpsichord wire, about twenty-four inches long, with a pound weight at the lower end, and sent the charge of the case of five and thirty bottles through it, whereby i discovered a new method of wire-drawing. the wire was red hot the whole length, well annealed, and above an inch longer than before. a second charge melted it; it parted near the middle, and measured, when the ends were put together, four inches longer than at first. this experiment, i remember, you proposed to me before you left philadelphia; but i never tried it till now. that i might have no doubt of the wire's being _hot_ as well as red, i repeated the experiment on another piece of the same wire, encompassed with a goose-quill, filled with loose grains of gun-powder; which took fire as readily as if it had been touched with a red hot poker. also tinder, tied to another piece of the wire, kindled by it. i tried a wire about three times as big, but could produce no such effects with that. hence it appears that the electric fire, though it has no sensible heat when in a state of rest, will, by its violent motion, and the resistance it meets with, produce heat in other bodies when passing through them, provided they be small enough. a large quantity will pass through a large wire, without producing any sensible heat; when the same quantity passing through a very small one, being there confined to a narrower passage, the particles crowding closer together, and meeting with greater resistance, will make it red hot, and even melt it. hence lightning does not melt metal by a cold fusion, as we formerly supposed; but, when it passes through the blade of a sword, if the quantity be not very great, it may heat the point so as to melt it, while the broadest and thickest part may not be sensibly warmer than before. and when trees or houses are set on fire by the dreadful quantity which a cloud, or the earth, sometimes discharges, must not the heat, by which the wood is first kindled, be generated by the lightning's violent motion, through the resisting combustible matter? if lightning, by its rapid motion, produces heat in _itself_; as well as in other bodies (and that it does i think is evident from some of the foregoing experiments made with the thermometer) then its sometimes singeing the hair of animals killed by it, may easily be accounted for. and the reason of its not always doing so, may, perhaps, be this: the quantity, though sufficient to kill a large animal, may sometimes not be great enough, or not have met with resistance enough, to become, by its motion, burning hot. we find that dwelling-houses, struck with lightning, are seldom set on fire by it; but when it passes through barns, with hay or straw in them, or store-houses, containing large quantities of hemp, or such like matter, they seldom, if ever, escape a conflagration; which may, perhaps, be owing to such combustibles being apt to kindle with a less degree of heat than is necessary to kindle wood. we had four houses in this city, and a vessel at one of the wharfs, struck and damaged by lightning last summer. one of the houses was struck twice in the same storm. but i have the pleasure to inform you, that your method of preventing such terrible disasters, has, by a fact which had like to have escaped our knowledge, given a very convincing proof of its great utility; and is now in higher repute with us than ever. hearing, a few days ago, that mr. william west, merchant in this city, suspected that the lightning in one of the thunder-storms last summer had passed through the iron conductor, which he had provided for the security of his house; i waited on him, to enquire what ground he might have for such suspicion. mr. west informed me, that his family and neighbours were all stunned with a very terrible explosion, and that the flash and crack were seen and heard at the same instant. whence he concluded, that the lightning must have been very near, and, as no house in the neighbourhood had suffered by it, that it must have passed through his conductor. mr. white, his clerk, told me that he was sitting, at the time, by a window, about two feet distant from the conductor, leaning against the brick wall with which it was in contact; and that he felt a smart sensation, like an electric shock, in that part of his body which touched the wall. mr. west further informed me, that a person of undoubted veracity assured him, that, being in the door of an opposite house, on the other side of water-street (which you know is but narrow) he saw the lightning diffused over the pavement, which was then very wet with rain, to the distance of two or three yards from the foot of the conductor; and that another person of very good credit told him, that he being a few doors off on the other side of the street, saw the lightning above, darting in such direction that it appeared to him to be directly over that pointed rod. upon receiving this information, and being desirous of further satisfaction, there being no traces of the lightning to be discovered in the conductor, as far as we could examine it below, i proposed to mr. west our going to the top of the house, to examine the pointed rod, assuring him, that if the lightning had passed through it, the point must have been melted; and, to our great satisfaction, we found it so. this iron rod extended in height about nine feet and a half above a stack of chimneys to which it was fixed (though i suppose three or four feet would have been sufficient.) it was somewhat more than half an inch diameter in the thickest part, and tapering to the upper end. the conductor, from the lower end of it to the earth, consisted of square iron nail-rods, not much above a quarter of an inch thick, connected together by interlinking joints. it extended down the cedar roof to the eaves, and from thence down the wall of the house, four story and a half, to the pavement in water-street, being fastened to the wall, in several places, by small iron hooks. the lower end was fixed to a ring, in the top of an iron stake that was drove about four or five feet into the ground. the above-mentioned iron rod had a hole in the top of it, about two inches deep, wherein was inserted a brass wire, about two lines thick, and, when first put there, about ten inches long, terminating in a very acute point; but now its whole length was no more than seven inches and a half, and the top very blunt. some of the metal appears to be missing, the slenderest part of the wire being, as i suspect, consumed into smoke. but some of it, where the wire was a little thicker, being only melted by the lightning, sunk down, while in a fluid state, and formed a rough irregular cap, lower on one side than the other, round the upper end of what remained, and became intimately united therewith. this was all the damage that mr. west sustained by a terrible stroke of lightning;--a most convincing proof of the great utility of this method of preventing its dreadful effects. surely it will now be thought as expedient to provide conductors for the lightning, as for the rain. mr. west was so good as to make me a present of the melted wire, which i keep as a great curiosity, and long for the pleasure of shewing it to you. in the mean time, i beg your acceptance of the best representation i can give of it, which you will find by the side of the thermometer, drawn in its full dimensions as it now appears. the dotted lines above are intended to shew the form of the wire before the lightning melted it. and now, sir, i most heartily congratulate you on the pleasure you must have in finding your great and well-grounded expectations so far fulfilled. may this method of security from the destructive violence of one of the most awful powers of nature, meet with such further success, as to induce every good and grateful heart to bless god for the important discovery! may the benefit thereof be diffused over the whole globe! may it extend to the latest posterity of mankind, and make the name of franklin, like that of newton, _immortal_. i am, sir, with sincere respect, your most obedient and most humble servant, eben. kinnersley. to mr. kinnersley. _answer to some of the foregoing subjects.--how long the leyden bottle may be kept charged.--heated glass rendered permeable by the electric fluid.--electrical attraction and repulsion.--reply to other subjects in the preceding paper.--numerous ways of kindling fire.--explosion of water.--knobs and points._ _london, feb. , ._ sir, i received your ingenious letter of the th of march last, and thank you cordially for the account you give me of the new experiments you have lately made in electricity.--it is a subject that still affords me pleasure, though of late i have not much attended to it. your second experiment, in which you attempted, without success, to communicate positive electricity by vapour ascending from electrised water, reminds me of one i formerly made, to try if negative electricity might be produced by evaporation only. i placed a large heated brass plate, containing four or five square feet on an electric stand; a rod of metal, about four feet long, with a bullet at its end, extended from the plate horizontally. a light lock of cotton, suspended a fine thread from the cieling, hung opposite to, and within an inch of the bullet. i then sprinkled the heated plate with water, which arose fast from it in vapour. if vapour should be disposed to carry off the electrical, as it does the common fire from bodies, i expected the plate would, by losing some of its natural quantity, become negatively electrised. but i could not perceive, by any motion in the cotton, that it was at all affected: nor by any separation of small cork-balls suspended from the plate, could it be observed that the plate was in any manner electrified. mr. canton here has also found, that two tea-cups, set on electric stands, and filled, one with boiling, the other with cold water, and equally electrified, continued equally so, notwithstanding the plentiful evaporation from the hot water. your experiment and his agreeing, show another remarkable difference between electric and common fire. for the latter quits most readily the body that contains it, where water, or any other fluid, is evaporating from the surface of that body, and escapes with the vapour. hence the method, long in use in the east, of cooling liquors, by wrapping the bottles round with a wet cloth, and exposing them to the wind. dr. cullen, of edinburgh, has given some experiments of cooling by evaporation; and i was present at one made by dr. hadley, then professor of chemistry at cambridge, when, by repeatedly wetting the ball of a thermometer with spirit, and quickening the evaporation by the blast of a bellows, the mercury fell from , the state of warmth in the common air, to , which is degrees below freezing; and, accordingly, from some water mixed with the spirit, or from the breath of the assistants, or both, ice gathered in small spicula round the ball, to the thickness of near a quarter of an inch. to such a degree did the mercury lose the fire it before contained, which, as i imagine, took the opportunity of escaping, in company with the evaporating particles of the spirit, by adhering to those particles. your experiment of the florence flask, and boiling water, is very curious. i have repeated it, and found it to succeed as you describe it, in two flasks out of three. the third would not charge when filled with either hot or cold water. i repeated it, because i remembered i had once attempted to make an electric bottle of a florence flask, filled with cold water, but could not charge it at all; which i then imputed to some imperceptible cracks in the small, extremely thin bubbles, of which that glass is full, and i concluded none of that kind would do. but you have shown me my mistake.--mr. wilson had formerly acquainted us, that red hot glass would conduct electricity; but that so small a degree of heat, as that communicated by boiling water, would so open the pores of extremely thin glass, as to suffer the electric fluid freely to pass, was not before known. some experiments similar to yours, have, however, been made here, before the receipt of your letter, of which i shall now give you an account. i formerly had an opinion that a leyden bottle, charged and then sealed hermetically, might retain its electricity for ever; but having afterwards some suspicion that possibly that subtle fluid might, by slow imperceptible degrees, soak through the glass, and in time escape, i requested some of my friends, who had conveniences for doing it, to make trial, whether, after some months, the charge of a bottle so sealed would be sensibly diminished. being at birmingham, in september, , mr. bolton of that place opened a bottle that had been charged, and its long tube neck hermetically sealed in the january preceding. on breaking off the end of the neck, and introducing a wire into it, we found it possessed of a considerable quantity of electricity, which was discharged by a snap and spark. this bottle had lain near seven months on a shelf, in a closet, in contact with bodies that would undoubtedly have carried off all its electricity, if it could have come readily through the glass. yet as the quantity manifested by the discharge was not apparently so great as might have been expected from a bottle of that size well charged, some doubt remained whether part had escaped while the neck was sealing, or had since, by degrees, soaked through the glass. but an experiment of mr. canton's, in which such a bottle was kept under water a week, without having its electricity in the least impaired, seems to show, that when the glass is cold, though extremely thin, the electric fluid is well retained by it. as that ingenious and accurate experimenter made a discovery, like yours, of the effect of heat in rendering thin glass permeable by that fluid, it is but doing him justice to give you his account of it, in his own words, extracted from his letter to me, in which he communicated it, dated oct. , , _viz_. "having procured some thin glass balls, of about an inch and a half in diameter, with stems, or tubes, of eight or nine inches in length, i electrified them, some positively on the inside, and others negatively, after the manner of charging the leyden bottle, and sealed them hermetically. soon after i applied the naked balls to my electrometer, and could not discover the least sign of their being electrical, but holding them, before the fire, at the distance of six or eight inches, they became strongly electrical in a very short time, and more so when they were cooling. these balls will, every time they are heated, give the electrical fluid to, or take it from other bodies, according to the _plus_ or _minus_ state of it within them. heating them frequently, i find will sensibly diminish their power; but keeping one of them under water a week did not appear in the least degree to impair it. that which i kept under water, was charged on the d of september last, was several times heated before it was kept in water, and has been heated frequently since, and yet it still retains its virtue to a very considerable degree. the breaking two of my balls accidentally gave me an opportunity of measuring their thickness, which i found to be between seven and eight parts in a thousand of an inch. a down feather, in a thin glass ball, hermetically sealed, will not be affected by the application of an excited tube, or the wire of a charged phial, unless the ball be considerably heated; and if a glass pane be heated till it begins to grow soft, and in that state be held between the wire of a charged phial, and the discharging wire, the course of the electrical fluid will not be through the glass, but on the surface, round by the edge of it." by this last experiment of mr. canton's, it appears, that though by a moderate heat, thin glass becomes, in some degree, a conductor of electricity, yet, when of the thickness of a common pane, it is not, though in a state near melting, so good a conductor as to pass the shock of a discharged bottle. there are other conductors which suffer the electric fluid to pass through them gradually, and yet will not conduct a shock. for instance, a quire of paper will conduct through its whole length, so as to electrify a person, who, standing on wax, presents the paper to an electrified prime conductor; but it will not conduct a shock even through its thickness only; hence the shock either fails, or passes by rending a hole in the paper. thus a sieve will pass water gradually, but a stream from a fire engine would either be stopped by it, or tear a hole through it. it should seem, that to make glass permeable to the electric fluid, the heat should be proportioned to the thickness. you found the heat of boiling water, which is but , sufficient to render the extreme thin glass in a florence flask permeable even to a shock.--lord charles cavendish, by a very ingenious experiment, has found the heat of requisite to render thicker glass permeable to the common current. "a glass tube, (see _plate_ iii.) of which the part c b was solid, had wire thrust in each end, reaching to b and c. "a small wire was tied on at d, reaching to the floor, in order to carry off any electricity that might run along upon the tube. "the bent part was placed in an iron pot, filled with iron filings; a thermometer was also put into the filings; a lamp was placed under the pot; and the whole was supported upon glass. "the wire a being electrified by a machine, before the heat was applied, the corks at e separated, at first upon the principle of the leyden phial. "but after the part c b of the tube was heated to , the corks continued to separate, though you discharged the electricity by touching the wire at e, the electrical machine continuing in motion. "upon letting the whole cool, the effect remained till the thermometer was sunk to ." [illustration: (of the experiment above) _plate iii._ _vol. i. page ._ ] it were to be wished, that this noble philosopher would communicate more of his experiments to the world, as he makes many, and with great accuracy. you know i have always looked upon and mentioned the equal repulsion in cases of positive and of negative electricity, as a phenomenon difficult to be explained. i have sometimes, too, been inclined, with you, to resolve all into attraction; but besides that attraction seems in itself as unintelligible as repulsion, there are some appearances of repulsion that i cannot so easily explain by attraction; this for one instance. when the pair of cork balls are suspended by flaxen threads, from the end of the prime conductor, if you bring a rubbed glass tube near the conductor, but without touching it, you see the balls separate, as being electrified positively; and yet you have communicated no electricity to the conductor, for, if you had, it would have remained there, after withdrawing the tube; but the closing of the balls immediately thereupon, shows that the conductor has no more left in it than its natural quantity. then again approaching the conductor with the rubbed tube, if, while the balls are separated, you touch with a finger that end of the conductor to which they hang, they will come together again, as being, with that part of the conductor, brought to the same state with your finger, _i. e._ the natural state. but the other end of the conductor, near which the tube is held, is not in that state, but in the negative state, as appears on removing the tube; for then part of the natural quantity left at the end near the balls, leaving that end to supply what is wanting at the other, the whole conductor is found to be equally in the negative state. does not this indicate that the electricity of the rubbed tube had repelled the electric fluid, which was diffused in the conductor while in its natural state, and forced it to quit the end to which the tube was brought near, accumulating itself on the end to which the balls were suspended? i own i find it difficult to account for its quitting that end, on the approach of the rubbed tube, but on the supposition of repulsion; for, while the conductor was in the same state with the air, _i. e._ the natural state, it does not seem to me easy to suppose, that an attraction should suddenly take place between the air and the natural quantity of the electric fluid in the conductor, so as to draw it to, and accumulate it on the end opposite to that approached by the tube; since bodies, possessing only their natural quantity of that fluid, are not usually seen to attract each other, or to affect mutually the quantities of electricity each contains. there are likewise appearances of repulsion in other parts of nature. not to mention the violent force with which the particles of water, heated to a certain degree, separate from each other, or those of gunpowder, when touched with the smallest spark of fire, there is the seeming repulsion between the same poles of the magnet, a body containing a subtle moveable fluid in many respects analagous to the electric fluid. if two magnets are so suspended by strings, as that their poles of the same denomination are opposite to each other, they will separate, and continue so; or if you lay a magnetic steel bar on a smooth table, and approach it with another parallel to it, the poles of both in the same position, the first will recede from the second, so as to avoid the contact, and may thus be pushed (or at least appear to be pushed) off the table. can this be ascribed to the attraction of any surrounding body or matter drawing them asunder, or drawing the one away from the other? if not, and repulsion exists in nature, and in magnetism, why may it not exist in electricity? we should not, indeed, multiply causes in philosophy without necessity; and the greater simplicity of your hypothesis would recommend it to me, if i could see that all appearances would be solved by it. but i find, or think i find, the two causes more convenient than one of them alone. thus i might solve the circular motion of your horizontal stick, supported on a pivot, with two pins at their ends, pointing contrary ways, and moving in the same direction when electrified, whether positively or negatively: when positively, the air opposite to the points being electrised positively, repels the points; when negatively, the air opposite the points being also, by their means, electrised negatively, attraction takes place between the electricity in the air behind the heads of the pins, and the negative pins, and so they are, in this case, drawn in the same direction that in the other they were driven.--you see i am willing to meet you half way, a complaisance i have not met with in our brother nollet, or any other hypothesis-maker, and therefore may value myself a little upon it, especially as they say i have some ability in defending even the wrong side of a question, when i think fit to take it in hand. what you give as an established law of the electric fluid, "that quantities of different densities mutually attract each other, in order to restore the equilibrium," is, i think, not well founded, or else not well expressed. two large cork balls, suspended by silk strings, and both well and equally electrified, separate to a great distance. by bringing into contact with one of them another ball of the same size, suspended likewise by silk, you will take from it half its electricity. it will then, indeed, hang at a less distance from the other, but the full and the half quantities will not appear to attract each other, that is, the balls will not come together. indeed, i do not know any proof we have, that one quantity of electric fluid is attracted by another quantity of that fluid, whatever difference there may be in their densities. and, supposing in nature, a mutual attraction between two parcels of any kind of matter, it would be strange if this attraction should subsist strongly while those parcels were unequal, and cease when more matter of the same kind was added to the smallest parcel, so as to make it equal to the biggest. by all the laws of attraction in matter, that we are acquainted with, the attraction is stronger in proportion to the increase of the masses, and never in proportion to the difference of the masses. i should rather think the law would be, "that the electric fluid is attracted strongly by all other matter that we know of, while the parts of that fluid mutually repel each other." hence its being equally diffused (except in particular circumstances) throughout all other matter. but this you jokingly call "electrical orthodoxy." it is so with some at present, but not with all; and, perhaps, it may not always be orthodoxy with any body. opinions are continually varying, where we cannot have mathematical evidence of the nature of things; and they must vary. nor is that variation without its use, since it occasions a more thorough discussion, whereby error is often dissipated, true knowledge is encreased, and its principles become better understood and more firmly established. air should have, as you observe, "its share of the common stock of electricity, as well as glass, and, perhaps, all other electrics _per se_." but i suppose, that, like them, it does not easily part with what it has, or receive more, unless when mixed with some non-electric, as moisture for instance, of which there is some in our driest air. this, however, is only a supposition; and your experiment of restoring electricity to a negatively electrised person, by extending his arm upwards into the air, with a needle between his fingers, on the point of which light may be seen in the night, is, indeed, a curious one. in this town the air is generally moister than with us, and here i have seen mr. canton electrify the air in one room positively, and in another, which communicated by a door, he has electrised the air negatively. the difference was easily discovered by his cork balls, as he passed out of one room into another.--pere beccaria, too, has a pretty experiment, which shows that air may be electrised. suspending a pair of small light balls, by flaxen threads, to the end of his prime conductor, he turns his globe some time, electrising positively, the balls diverging and continuing separate all the time. then he presents the point of a needle to his conductor, which gradually drawing off the electric fluid, the balls approach each other, and touch, before all is drawn from the conductor; opening again as more is drawn off, and separating nearly as wide as at first, when the conductor is reduced to the natural state. by this it appears, that when the balls came together, the air surrounding the balls was just as much electrised as the conductor at that time; and more than the conductor, when that was reduced to its natural state. for the balls, though in the natural state, will diverge, when the air that surrounds them is electrised _plus_ or _minus_, as well as when that is in its natural state and they are electrised _plus_ or _minus_ themselves. i foresee that you will apply this experiment to the support of your hypothesis, and i think you may make a good deal of it. it was a curious enquiry of yours, whether the electricity of the air, in clear dry weather, be of the same density at the height of two or three hundred yards, as near the surface of the earth; and i am glad you made the experiment. upon reflection, it should seem probable, that whether the general state of the atmosphere at any time be positive or negative, that part of it which is next the earth will be nearer the natural state, by having given to the earth in one case, or having received from it in the other. in electrising the air of a room, that which is nearest the walls, or floor, is least altered. there is only one small ambiguity in the experiment, which may be cleared by more trials; it arises from the supposition that bodies may be electrised positively by the friction of air blowing strongly on them, as it does on the kite and its string. if at some times the electricity appears to be negative, as that friction is the same, the effect must be from a negative state of the upper air. i am much pleased with your electrical thermometer, and the experiments you have made with it. i formerly satisfied myself by an experiment with my phial and syphon, that the elasticity of the air was not increased by the mere existence of an electric atmosphere within the phial; but i did not know, till you now inform me, that heat may be given to it by an electric explosion. the continuance of its rarefaction, for some time after the discharge of your glass jar and of your case of bottles, seem to make this clear. the other experiments on wet paper, wet thread, green grass, and green wood, are not so satisfactory; as possibly the reducing part of the moisture to vapour, by the electric fluid passing through it, might occasion some expansion which would be gradually reduced by the condensation of such vapour. the fine silver thread, the very small brass wire, and the strip of gilt paper, are also subject to a similar objection, as even metals, in such circumstances, are often partly reduced to smoke, particularly the gilding on paper. but your subsequent beautiful experiment on the wire, which you made hot by the electric explosion, and in that state fired gunpowder with it, puts it out of all question, that heat is produced by our artificial electricity, and that the melting of metals in that way, is not by what i formerly called a cold fusion. a late instance here, of the melting a bell-wire, in a house struck by lightning, and parts of the wire burning holes in the floor on which they fell, has proved the same with regard to the electricity of nature. i was too easily led into that error by accounts given, even in philosophical books, and from remote ages downwards, of melting money in purses, swords in scabbards, &c. without burning the inflammable matters that were so near those melted metals. but men are, in general, such careless observers, that a philosopher cannot be too much on his guard in crediting their 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, as this does, like a house of cards. how many ways there are of kindling fire, or producing heat in bodies! by the sun's rays, by collision, by friction, by hammering, by putrefaction, by fermentation, by mixtures of fluids, by mixtures of solids with fluids, and by electricity. and yet the fire when produced, though in different bodies it may differ in circumstances, as in colour, vehemence, &c. yet in the same bodies is generally the same. does not this seem to indicate that the fire existed in the body, though in a quiescent state, before it was by any of these means excited, disengaged, and brought forth to action and to view? may it not constitute a part, and even a principal part, of the solid substance of bodies? if this should be the case, kindling fire in a body would be nothing more than developing this inflammable principle, and setting it at liberty to act in separating the parts of that body, which then exhibits the appearances of scorching, melting, burning, &c. when a man lights an hundred candles from the flame of one, without diminishing that flame, can it be properly said to have _communicated_ all that fire? when a single spark from a flint, applied to a magazine of gunpowder, is immediately attended with this consequence, that the whole is in flame, exploding with immense violence, could all this fire exist first in the spark? we cannot conceive it. and thus we seem led to this supposition, that there is fire enough in all bodies to singe, melt, or burn them, whenever it is, by any means, set at liberty, so that it may exert itself upon them, or be disengaged from them. this liberty seems to be afforded it by the passage of electricity through them, which we know can and does, of itself, separate the parts even of water; and perhaps the immediate appearances of fire are only the effects of such separations? if so, there would be no need of supposing that the electric fluid _heats itself_ by the swiftness of its motion, or heats bodies by the resistance it meets with in passing through them. they would only be heated in proportion as such separation could be more easily made. thus a melting heat cannot be given to a large wire in the flame of a candle, though it may to a small one; and this not because the large wire resists _less_ that action of the flame which tends to separate its parts, but because it resists it _more_ than the smaller wire; or because the force being divided among more parts acts weaker on each. this reminds me, however, of a little experiment i have frequently made, that shows, at one operation, the different effects of the same quantity of electric fluid passing through different quantities of metal. a strip of tinfoil, three inches long, a quarter of an inch wide at one end, and tapering all the way to a sharp point at the other, fixed between two pieces of glass, and having the electricity of a large glass jar sent through it, will not be discomposed in the broadest part; towards the middle will appear melted in spots; where narrower, it will be quite melted; and about half an inch of it next the point will be reduced to smoke. you were not mistaken in supposing that your account of the effect of the pointed rod, in securing mr. west's house from damage by a stroke of lightning, would give me great pleasure. i thank you for it most heartily, and for the pains you have taken in giving me so complete a description of its situation, form, and substance, with the draft of the melted point. there is one circumstance, viz. that the lightning was seen to diffuse itself from the foot of the rod over the wet pavement, which seems, i think, to indicate, that the earth under the pavement was very dry, and that the rod should have been sunk deeper, till it came to earth moister, and therefore apter to receive and dissipate the electric fluid. and although, in this instance, a conductor formed of nail rods, not much above a quarter of an inch thick, served well to convey the lightning, yet some accounts i have seen from carolina, give reason to think, that larger may be sometimes necessary, at least for the security of the conductor itself, which, when too small, may be destroyed in executing its office, though it does, at the same time, preserve the house. indeed, in the construction of an instrument so new, and of which we could have so little experience, it is rather lucky that we should at first be so near the truth as we seem to be, and commit so few errors. there is another reason for sinking deeper the lower end of the rod, and also for turning it outwards under ground to some distance from the foundation; it is this, that water dripping from the eaves falls near the foundation, and sometimes soaks down there in greater quantities, so as to come near the end of the rod, though the ground about it be drier. in such case, this water may be exploded, that is, blown into vapour, whereby a force is generated, that may damage the foundation. water reduced to vapour, is said to occupy , times its former space. i have sent a charge through a small glass tube, that has borne it well while empty, but when filled first with water, was shattered to pieces and driven all about the room:--finding no part of the water on the table, i suspected it to have been reduced to vapour; and was confirmed in that suspicion afterwards, when i had filled a like piece of tube with ink, and laid it on a sheet of clean paper, whereon, after the explosion, i could find neither any moisture nor any sully from the ink. this experiment of the explosion of water, which i believe was first made by that most ingenious electrician, father beccaria, may account for what we sometimes see in a tree struck by lightning, when part of it is reduced to fine splinters like a broom; the sap vessels being so many tubes containing a watry fluid, which, when reduced to vapour, rends every tube lengthways. and perhaps it is this rarefaction of the fluids in animal bodies killed by lightning or electricity, that, by separating its fibres, renders the flesh so tender, and apt so much sooner to putrify. i think too, that much of the damage done by lightning to stone and brick-walls may sometimes be owing to the explosion of water, found, during showers, running or lodging in the joints or small cavities or cracks that happen to be in the walls. here are some electricians that recommend knobs instead of points on the upper end of the rods, from a supposition that the points invite the stroke. it is true that points draw electricity at greater distances in the gradual silent way; but knobs will draw at the greatest distance a stroke. there is an experiment that will settle this. take a crooked wire of the thickness of a quill, and of such a length as that one end of it being applied to the lower part of a charged bottle, the upper may be brought near the ball on the top of the wire that is in the bottle. let one end of this wire be furnished with a knob, and the other may be gradually tapered to a fine point. when the point is presented to discharge the bottle, it must be brought much nearer before it will receive the stroke, than the knob requires to be. points besides tend to repel the fragments of an electrised cloud, knobs draw them nearer. an experiment, which i believe i have shewn you, of cotton fleece hanging from an electrised body, shows this clearly when a point or a knob is presented under it. you seem to think highly of the importance of this discovery, as do many others on our side of the water. here it is very little regarded; so little, that though it is now seven or eight years since it was made public, i have not heard of a single house as yet attempted to be secured by it. it is true the mischiefs done by lightning are not so frequent here as with us, and those who calculate chances may perhaps find that not one death (or the destruction of one house) in a hundred thousand happens from that cause, and that therefore it is scarce worth while to be at any expence to guard against it.--but in all countries there are particular situations of buildings more exposed than others to such accidents, and there are minds so strongly impressed with the apprehension of them, as to be very unhappy every time a little thunder is within their hearing;--it may therefore be well to render this little piece of new knowledge as general and as well understood as possible, since to make us _safe_ is not all its advantage, it is some to make us _easy_. and as the stroke it secures us from might have chanced perhaps but once in our lives, while it may relieve us a hundred times from those painful apprehensions, the latter may possibly on the whole contribute more to the happiness of mankind than the former. your kind wishes and congratulations are very obliging. i return them cordially;--being, with great regard and esteem, my dear sir, your affectionate friend, and most obedient humble servant, b. franklin. _accounts from carolina (mentioned in the foregoing letter) of the effects of lightning on two of the rods commonly affixed to houses there, for securing them against lightning_. _charlestown, nov. , ._ "----it is some years since mr. raven's rod was struck by lightning. i hear an account of it was published at the time, but i cannot find it. according to the best information i can now get, he had fixed to the outside of his chimney a large iron rod, several feet in length, reaching above the chimney; and to the top of this rod the points were fixed. from the lower end of this rod, a small brass wire was continued down to the top of another iron rod driven into the earth. on the ground-floor in the chimney stood a gun, leaning against the back-wall, nearly opposite to where the brass wire came down on the outside. the lightning fell upon the points, did no damage to the rod they were fixed to; but the brass wire, all down till it came opposite to the top of the gun-barrel, was destroyed[ ]. there the lightning made a hole through the wall or back of the chimney, to get to the gun-barrel[ ], down which it seems to have passed, as, although it did not hurt the barrel, it damaged the butt of the stock, and blew up some bricks of the hearth. the brass wire below the hole in the wall remained good. no other damage, as i can learn, was done to the house. i am told the same house had formerly been struck by lightning, and much damaged, before these rods were invented."---- footnotes: [ ] a proof that it was not of sufficient substance to conduct with safety to itself (though with safety _so far_ to the wall) so large a quantity of the electric fluid. [ ] a more substantial conductor. _mr. william maine's account of the effects of the lightning on his rod, dated at indian land, in south carolina, aug. , ._ ----"i had a set of electrical points, consisting of three prongs, of large brass wire tipt with silver, and perfectly sharp, each about seven inches long; these were rivetted at equal distances into an iron nut about three quarters of an inch square, and opened at top equally to the distance of six or seven inches from point to point, in a regular triangle. this nut was screwed very tight on the top of an iron rod of above half an inch diameter, or the thickness of a common curtain-rod, composed of several joints, annexed by hooks turned at the ends of each joint, and the whole fixed to the chimney of my house by iron staples. the points were elevated (_a_) six or seven inches above the top of the chimney; and the lower joint sunk three feet in the earth, in a perpendicular direction. thus stood the points on tuesday last about five in the evening, when the lightning broke with a violent explosion on the chimney, cut the rod square off just under the nut, and i am persuaded, melted the points, nut, and top of the rod, entirely up; as after the most diligent search, nothing of either was found (_b_), and the top of the remaining rod was cased over with a congealed solder. the lightning ran down the rod, starting almost all the staples (_c_), and unhooking the joints without affecting the rod (_d_), except on the inside of each hook where the joints were coupled, the surface of which was melted (_e_), and left as cased over with solder.--no part of the chimney was damaged (_f_), only at the foundation (_g_), where it was shattered almost quite round, and several bricks were torn out (_h_). considerable cavities were made in the earth quite round the foundation, but most within eight or nine inches of the rod. it also shattered the bottom weather-board (_i_) at one corner of the house, and made a large hole in the earth by the corner post. on the other side of the chimney, it ploughed up several furrows in the earth, some yards in length. it ran down the inside of the chimney (_k_), carrying only soot with it; and filled the whole house with its flash (_l_), smoke, and dust. it tore up the hearth in several places (_m_), and broke some pieces of china in the beaufet (_n_). a copper tea-kettle standing in the chimney was beat together, as if some great weight had fallen upon it (_o_); and three holes, each about half an inch diameter, melted through the bottom (_p_). what seems to me the most surprising is, that the hearth under the kettle was not hurt, yet the bottom of the kettle was drove inward, as if the lightning proceeded from under it upwards (_q_), and the cover was thrown to the middle of the floor (_r_). the fire dogs, an iron logger-head, an indian pot, an earthen cup, and a cat, were all in the chimney at the time unhurt, though a great part of the hearth was torn up (_s_). my wife's sister, two children, and a negro wench, were all who happened to be in the house at the time: the first, and one child, sat within five feet of the chimney; and were so stunned, that they never saw the lightning nor heard the explosion; the wench, with the other child in her arms, sitting at a greater distance, was sensible of both; though every one was so stunned that they did not recover for some time; however it pleased god that no farther mischief ensued. the kitchen, at feet distance, was full of negroes, who were all sensible of the shock; and some of them tell me, that they felt the rod about a minute after, when it was so hot that they could not bear it in hand." remarks by benjamin franklin. the foregoing very sensible and distinct account may afford a good deal of instruction relating to the nature and effects of lightning, and to the construction and use of this instrument for averting the mischiefs of it. like other new instruments, this appears to have been at first in some respects imperfect; and we find that we are, in this as in others, to expect improvement from experience chiefly: but there seems to be nothing in the account, that should discourage us in the use of it; since at the same time that its imperfections are discovered, the means of removing them are pretty easily to be learnt from the circumstances of the account itself; and its utility upon the whole is manifest. one intention of the pointed rod, is, to _prevent_ a stroke of lightning. (_see pages_ , .) but to have a better chance of obtaining this end, the points should not be too near to the top of the chimney or highest part of the building to which they are affixed, but should be extended five or six feet above it; otherwise their operation in silently drawing off the fire (from such fragments of cloud as float in the air between the great body of cloud and the earth) will be prevented. for the experiment with the lock of cotton hanging below the electrified prime conductor shows, that a finger under it, being a blunt body, extends the cotton, drawing its lower part downwards; when a needle, with its point presented to the cotton, makes it fly up again to the prime conductor; and that this effect is strongest when as much of the needle as possible appears above the end of the finger; grows weaker as the needle is shortened between the finger and thumb; and is reduced to nothing when only a short part below the point appears above the finger. now it seems the points of mr. maine's rod were elevated only (_a_) _six or seven inches above the top of the chimney_; which, considering the bulk of the chimney and the house, was too small an elevation. for the great body of matter near them would hinder their being easily brought into a negative state by the repulsive power of the electrised cloud, in which negative state it is that they attract most strongly and copiously the electric fluid from other bodies, and convey it into the earth. (_b_) _nothing of the points, &c. could be found._ this is a common effect. (_see page_ .) where the quantity of the electric fluid passing is too great for the conductor through which it passes, the metal is either melted, or reduced to smoke and dissipated; but where the conductor is sufficiently large, the fluid passes in it without hurting it. thus these three wires were destroyed, while the rod to which they were fixed, being of greater substance, remained unhurt; its end only, to which they were joined, being a little melted, some of the melted part of the lower ends of those wires uniting with it, and appearing on it like solder. (_c_)(_d_)(_e_) as the several parts of the rod were connected only by the ends being bent round into hooks, the contact between hook and hook was much smaller than the rod; therefore the current through the metal being confined in those narrow passages, melted part of the metal, as appeared on examining the inside of each hook. where metal is melted by lightning, some part of it is generally exploded; and these explosions in the joints appear to have been the cause of unhooking them; and, by that violent action, of starting also most of the staples. we learn from hence, that a rod in one continued piece is preferable to one composed of links or parts hooked together. (_f_) _no part of the chimney was damaged_: because the lightning passed in the rod. and this instance agrees with others in showing, that the second and principal intention of the rods is obtainable, viz. that of _conducting_ the lightning. in all the instances yet known of the lightning's falling on any house guarded by rods, it has pitched down upon the point of the rod, and has not fallen upon any other part of the house. had the lightning fallen on this chimney, unfurnished with a rod, it would probably have rent it from top to bottom, as we see, by the effects of the lightning on the points and rod, that its quantity was very great; and we know that many chimneys have been so demolished. but _no part of this was damaged, only_ (_f_)(_g_)(_h_) _at the foundation, where it was shattered and several bricks torn out_. here we learn the principal defect in fixing this rod. the lower joint being sunk but three feet into the earth, did not it seems go low enough to come at water, or a large body of earth so moist as to receive readily from its end the quantity it conducted. the electric fluid therefore, thus accumulated near the lower end of the rod, quitted it at the surface of the earth, dividing in search of other passages. part of it tore up the surface in furrows, and made holes in it: part entered the bricks of the foundation, which being near the earth are generally moist, and, in exploding that moisture, shattered them. (_see page_ .) part went through or under the foundation, and got under the hearth, blowing up great part of the bricks (_m_)(_s_), and producing the other effects (_o_)(_p_)(_q_)(_r_). the iron dogs, loggerhead and iron pot were not hurt, being of sufficient substance, and they probably protected the cat. the copper tea-kettle being thin suffered some damage. perhaps, though found on a sound part of the hearth, it might at the time of the stroke have stood on the part blown up, which will account both for the bruising and melting. that _it ran down the inside of the chimney_ (_k_) i apprehend must be a mistake. had it done so, i imagine it would have brought something more than soot with it; it would probably have ripped off the pargetting, and brought down fragments of plaster and bricks. the shake, from the explosion on the rod, was sufficient to shake down a good deal of loose soot. lightning does not usually enter houses by the doors, windows, or chimneys, as open passages, in the manner that air enters them: its nature is, to be attracted by substances, that are conductors of electricity; it penetrates and passes _in_ them, and, if they are not good conductors as are neither wood, brick, stone nor plaster, it is apt to rend them in its passage. it would not easily pass through the air from a cloud to a building, were it not for the aid afforded it in its passage by intervening fragments of clouds below the main body, or by the falling rain. it is said that _the house was filled with its flash_ (_l_). expressions like this are common in accounts of the effects of lightning, from which we are apt to understand that the lightning filled the house. our language indeed seems to want a word to express the _light_ of lightning as distinct from the lightning itself. when a tree on a hill is struck by it, the lightning of that stroke exists only in a narrow vein between the cloud and tree, but its light fills a vast space many miles round; and people at the greatest distance from it are apt to say, "the lightning came into our rooms through our windows." as it is in itself extremely bright, it cannot, when so near as to strike a house, fail illuminating highly every room in it through the windows; and this i suppose to have been the case at mr. maine's; and that, except in and near the hearth, from the causes above-mentioned, it was not in any other part of the house; _the flash_ meaning no more than _the light_ of the lightning.--it is for want of considering this difference, that people suppose there is a kind of lightning not attended with thunder. in fact there is probably a loud explosion accompanying every flash of lightning, and at the same instant;--but as sound travels slower than light, we often hear the sound some seconds of time after having seen the light; and as sound does not travel so far as light, we sometimes see the light at a distance too great to hear the sound. (_n_) the _breaking some pieces of china in the beaufet_, may nevertheless seem to indicate that the lightning was there: but as there is no mention of its having hurt any part of the beaufet, or of the walls of the house, i should rather ascribe that effect to the concussion of the air, or shake of the house by the explosion. thus, to me it appears, that the house and its inhabitants were saved by the rod, though the rod itself was unjointed by the stroke; and that, if it had been made of one piece, and sunk deeper in the earth, or had entered the earth at a greater distance from the foundation, the mentioned small damages (except the melting of the points) would not have happened. to dr. h[ ]. at london. _on the electricity of the tourmalin._ _craven-street, june , ._ sir, i now return the smallest of your two tourmalins, with hearty thanks for your kind present of the other, which, though i value highly for its rare and wonderful properties, i shall ever esteem it more for the friendship i am honoured with by the giver. i hear that the negative electricity of one side of the tourmalin, when heated, is absolutely denied (and all that has been related of it ascribed to prejudice in favour of a system) by some ingenious gentlemen abroad, who profess to have made the experiments on the stone with care and exactness. the experiments have succeeded differently with me; yet i would not call the accuracy of those gentlemen in question. possibly the tourmalins they have tried were not properly cut; so that the positive and negative powers were obliquely placed, or in some manner whereby their effects were confused, or the negative parts more easily supplied by the positive. perhaps the lapidaries who have hitherto cut these stones, had no regard to the situation of the two powers, but chose to make the faces of the stone where they could obtain the greatest breadth, or some other advantage in the form. if any of these stones, in their natural state, can be procured here, i think it would be right to endeavour finding, before they are cut, the two sides that contain the opposite powers, and make the faces there. possibly, in that case, the effects might be stronger, and more distinct; for though both these stones that i have examined have evidently the two properties, yet, without the full heat given by boiling water, they are somewhat confused; the virtue seems strongest towards one end of the face; and in the middle, or near the other end, scarce discernible; and the negative, i think, always weaker than the positive. i have had the large one new cut, so as to make both sides alike, and find the change of form has made no change of power, but the properties of each side remain the same as i found them before. it is now set in a ring in such a manner as to turn on an axis, that i may conveniently, in making experiments, come at both side of the stone. the little rim of gold it is set in, has made no alteration in its effects. the warmth of my finger, when i wear it, is sufficient to give it some degree of electricity, so that it is always ready to attract light bodies. the following experiments have satisfied me that m. Æpinus's account of the positive and negative states of the opposite sides of the heated tourmalin is well founded. i heated the large stone in boiling water. as soon as it was dry, i brought it near a very small cork ball, that was suspended by a silk thread. the ball was attracted by one face of the stone, which i call a, and then repelled. the ball in that state was also repelled by the positively charged wire of a phial, and attracted by the other side of the stone, b. the stone being a-fresh heated, and the side b brought near the ball, it was first attracted, and presently after repelled by that side. in this second state it was repelled by the negatively charged wire of a phial. therefore, if the principles now generally received, relating to positive and negative electricity, are true, the side a of the large stone, when the stone is heated in water, is in a positive state of electricity; and the side b, in a negative state. the same experiments being made with the small stone stuck by one edge on the end of a small glass tube, with sealing-wax, the same effects are produced. the flat side of the small stone gives the signs of positive electricity; the high side gives the signs of negative electricity. again: i suspended the small stone by a silk thread. i heated it as it hung, in boiling water. i heated the large one in boiling water. then i brought the large stone near to the suspended small one. which immediately turned its flat side to the side b of the large stone, and would cling to it. i turned the ring, so as to present the side a of the large stone, to the flat side of the small one. the flat side was repelled, and the small stone, turning quick, applied its high side to the side a of the large one. this was precisely what ought to happen, on the supposition that the flat side of the small stone, when heated in water, is positive, and the high side negative; the side a of the large stone positive, and the side b negative. the effect was apparently the same as would have been produced, if one magnet had been suspended by a thread, and the different poles of another brought alternately near it. i find that the face a, of the large stone, being coated with leaf-gold (attached by the white of an egg, which will bear dipping in hot water) becomes quicker and stronger in its effect on the cork ball, repelling it the instant it comes in contact; which i suppose to be occasioned by the united force of different parts of the face, collected and acting together through the metal. i am, &c. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] dr. heberden. _editor._ from professor winthrop, to b. franklin. _new observation relating to electricity in the atmosphere._ _cambridge, n. e. sept. , ._ sir, there is an observation relating to electricity in the atmosphere, which seemed new to me, though perhaps it will not to you: however, i will venture to mention it. i have some points on the top of my house, and the wire where it passes within-side the house is furnished with bells, according to your method, to give notice of the passage of the electric fluid. in summer, these bells, generally ring at the approach of a thunder-cloud; but cease soon after it begins to rain. in winter, they sometimes though not very often, ring while it is snowing; but never, that i remember, when it rains. but what was unexpected to me was, that, though the bells had not rung while it was snowing, yet, the next day, after it had done snowing, and the weather was cleared up, while the snow was driven about by a high wind at w. or n. w. the bells rung for several hours (though with little intermissions) as briskly as ever i knew them, and i drew considerable sparks from the wire. this phenomenon i never observed but twice; viz. on the st of january, , and the d of march, . i am, sir, &c. from mr. a. s[ ]. to b. f. _flash of lightning that struck st. bride's steeple._ i have just recollected that in one of our great storms of lightning, i saw an appearance, which i never observed before, nor ever heard described. i am persuaded that i saw _the_ flash which struck st. bride's steeple. sitting at my window, and looking to the north, i saw what appeared to me a solid strait rod of fire, moving at a very sharp angle with the horizon. it appeared to my eye as about two inches diameter, and had nothing of the zig-zag lightning motion. i instantly told a person sitting with me, that some place must be struck at that instant. i was so much surprized at the vivid distinct appearance of the fire, that i did not hear the clap of thunder, which stunned every one besides. considering how low it moved, i could not have thought it had gone so far, having st. martin's, the new church, and st. clements's steeples in its way. it struck the steeple a good way from the top, and the first impression it made in the side is in the same direction i saw it move in. it was succeeded by two flashes, almost united, moving in a pointed direction. there were two distinct houses struck in essex-street. i should have thought the rod would have fallen in covent-garden, it was so low. perhaps the appearance is frequent, though never before seen by your's, a. s. footnote: [ ] mr. alexander small. _editor._ to mr. p. f[ ]. newport. _best method of securing a powder magazine from lightning._ ----you may acquaint the gentleman that desired you to enquire my opinion of the best method of securing a powder magazine from lightning, that i think they cannot do better than to erect a mast not far from it, which may reach fifteen or twenty feet above the top of it, with a thick iron rod in one piece fastened to it, pointed at the highest end, and reaching down through the earth till it comes to water. iron is a cheap metal; but if it were dearer, as this is a public thing the expence is insignificant; therefore i would have the rod at least an inch thick, to allow for its gradually wasting by rust; it will last as long as the mast, and may be renewed with it. the sharp point for five or six inches should be gilt. but there is another circumstance of importance to the strength, goodness, and usefulness of the powder, which does not seem to have been enough attended to: i mean the keeping it perfectly dry. for want of a method of doing this, much is spoiled in damp magazines, and much so damaged as to become of little value.--if, instead of barrels it were kept in cases of bottles well corked; or in large tin canisters, with small covers shutting close by means of oiled paper between, or covering the joining on the canister; or if in barrels, then the barrels lined with thin sheet lead; no moisture in either of these methods could possibly enter the powder, since glass and metals are both impervious to water. by the latter of these means you see tea is brought dry and crisp from china to europe, and thence to america, though it comes all the way by sea in the damp hold of a ship. and by this method, grain, meal, &c. if well dried before it is put up, may be kept for ages sound and good. there is another thing very proper to line small barrels with; it is what they call tin-foil, or leaf-tin, being tin milled between rollers till it becomes as thin as paper, and more pliant, at the same time that its texture is extremely close. it may be applied to the wood with common paste, made with boiling-water thickened with flour; and, so laid on; will lie very close and stick well: but i should prefer a hard sticky varnish for that purpose, made of linseed oil much boiled. the heads might be lined separately, the tin wrapping a little round their edges. the barrel, while the lining is laid on, should have the end hoops slack, so that the staves standing at a little distance from each other, may admit the head into its groove. the tin-foil should be plyed into the groove. then, one head being put in, and that end hooped tight, the barrel would be fit to receive the powder, and when the other head is put in and the hoops drove up, the powder would be safe from moisture even if the barrel were kept under water. this tin-foil is but about eighteen pence sterling a pound, and is so extremely thin, that i imagine a pound of it would line three or four powder-barrels. i am, &c. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] peter franklin. _editor._ _of lightning, and the methods (now used in america) of securing buildings and persons from its mischievous effects._ experiments made in electricity first gave philosophers a suspicion, that the matter of lightning was the same with the electric matter. experiments afterwards made on lightning obtained from the clouds by pointed rods, received into bottles, and subjected to every trial, have since proved this suspicion to be perfectly well founded; and that whatever properties we find in electricity, are also the properties of lightning. this matter of lightning, or of electricity, is an extreme subtile fluid, penetrating other bodies, and subsisting in them, equally diffused. when by any operation of art or nature, there happens to be a greater proportion of this fluid in one body than in another, the body which has most will communicate to that which has least, till the proportion becomes equal; provided the distance between them be not too great; or, if it is too great, till there be proper conductors to convey it from one to the other. if the communication be through the air without any conductor, a bright light is seen between the bodies, and a sound is heard. in our small experiments, we call this light and sound the electric spark and snap; but in the great operations of nature, the light is what we call _lightning_, and the sound (produced at the same time, though generally arriving later at our ears than the light does to our eyes) is, with its echoes, called _thunder_. if the communication of this fluid is by a conductor, it may be without either light or sound, the subtle fluid passing in the substance of the conductor. if the conductor be good and of sufficient bigness, the fluid passes through it without hurting it. if otherwise, it is damaged or destroyed. all metals, and water, are good conductors.--other bodies may become conductors by having some quantity of water in them, as wood, and other materials used in building, but not having much water in them, they are not good conductors, and therefore are often damaged in the operation. glass, wax, silk, wool, hair, feathers, and even wood, perfectly dry are non-conductors: that is, they resist instead of facilitating the passage of this subtle fluid. when this fluid has an opportunity of passing through two conductors, one good, and sufficient, as of metal, the other not so good, it passes in the best, and will follow it in any direction. the distance at which a body charged with this fluid will discharge itself suddenly, striking through the air into another body that is not charged, or not so highly charged, is different according to the quantity of the fluid, the dimensions and form of the bodies themselves, and the state of the air between them.--this distance, whatever it happens to be between any two bodies, is called their _striking distance_, as, till they come within that distance of each other, no stroke will be made. the clouds have often more of this fluid in proportion than the earth; in which case, as soon as they come near enough (that is, within the striking distance) or meet with a conductor, the fluid quits them and strikes into the earth. a cloud fully charged with this fluid, if so high as to be beyond the striking distance from the earth, passes quietly without making noise or giving light; unless it meets with other clouds that have less. tall trees, and lofty buildings, as the towers and spires of churches, become sometimes conductors between the clouds and the earth; but not being good ones, that is, not conveying the fluid freely, they are often damaged. buildings that have their roofs covered with lead, or other metal, and spouts of metal continued from the roof into the ground to carry off the water, are never hurt by lightning, as, whenever it falls on such a building, it passes in the metals and not in the walls. when other buildings happen to be within the striking distance from such clouds, the fluid passes in the walls whether of wood, brick or stone, quitting the walls only when it can find better conductors near them, as metal rods, bolts, and hinges of windows or doors, gilding on wainscot, or frames of pictures, the silvering on the backs of looking-glasses, the wires for bells, and the bodies of animals, as containing watery fluids. and in passing through the house it follows the direction of these conductors, taking as many in its way as can assist it in its passage, whether in a strait, or crooked line leaping from one to the other, if not far distant from each other, only rending the wall in the spaces where these partial good conductors are too distant from each other. an iron rod being placed on the outside of a building, from the highest part continued down into the moist earth, in any direction strait or crooked, following the form of the roof or other parts of the building, will receive the lightning at its upper end, attracting it so as to prevent its striking any other part; and, affording it a good conveyance into the earth, will prevent its damaging any part of the building. a small quantity of metal is found able to conduct a great quantity of this fluid. a wire no bigger than a goose-quill has been known to conduct (with safety to the building as far as the wire was continued) a quantity of lightning that did prodigious damage both above and below it; and probably larger rods are not necessary, though it is common in america, to make them of half an inch, some of three quarters, or an inch diameter. the rod may be fastened to the wall, chimney, &c. with staples of iron.--the lightning will not leave the rod (a good conductor) to pass into the wall (a bad conductor) through those staples.--it would rather, if any were in the wall, pass out of it into the rod to get more readily by that conductor into the earth. if the building be very large and extensive, two or more rods may be placed at different parts, for greater security. small ragged parts of clouds, suspended in the air between the great body of clouds and the earth (like leaf gold in electrical experiments) often serve as partial conductors for the lightning, which proceeds from one of them to another, and by their help comes within the striking distance to the earth or a building. it therefore strikes through those conductors a building that would otherwise be out of the striking distance. long sharp points communicating with the earth, and presented to such parts of clouds, drawing silently from them the fluid they are charged with, they are then attracted to the cloud, and may leave the distance so great as to be beyond the reach of striking. it is therefore that we elevate the upper end of the rod six or eight feet above the highest part of the building, tapering it gradually to a fine sharp point, which is gilt to prevent its rusting. thus the pointed rod either prevents a stroke from the cloud, or, if a stroke is made, conducts it to the earth with safety to the building. the lower end of the rod should enter the earth so deep as to come at the moist part, perhaps two or three feet; and if bent when under the surface so as to go in a horizontal line six or eight feet from the wall, and then bent again downwards three or four feet, it will prevent damage to any of the stones of the foundation. a person apprehensive of danger from lightning, happening during the time of thunder to be in a house not so secured, will do well to avoid sitting near the chimney, near a looking glass, or any gilt pictures or wainscot; the safest place is in the middle of the room (so it be not under a metal lustre suspended by a chain) sitting in one chair and laying the feet up in another. it is still safer to bring two or three mattrasses or beds into the middle of the room, and, folding them up double, place the chair upon them; for they not being so good conductors as the walls, the lightning will not chuse an interrupted course through the air of the room and the bedding, when it can go through a continued better conductor, the wall. but where it can be had, a hammock or swinging bed, suspended by silk cords equally distant from the walls on every side, and from the cieling and floor above and below, affords the safest situation a person can have in any room whatever; and what indeed may be deemed quite free from danger of any stroke by lightning. b. franklin. _paris, sept. ._ from j. w.[ ] esq. professor of natural philosophy at cambridge, in new england, jan. , . _st. bride's steeple.--utility of electrical conductors to steeples.--singular kind of glass tube._ "**** i have read in the philosophical transactions the account of the effects of lightning on st. bride's steeple. it is amazing to me, that after the full demonstration you had given, of the identity of lightning and of electricity, and the power of metalline conductors, they should ever think of repairing that steeple without such conductors. how astonishing is the force of prejudice even in an age of so much knowledge and free enquiry!" answer to the above. **** it is perhaps not so extraordinary that unlearned men, such as commonly compose our church vestries, should not yet be acquainted with, and sensible of the benefits of metal conductors in averting the stroke of lightning, and preserving our houses from its violent effects, or that they should be still prejudiced against the use of such conductors, when we see how long even philosophers, men of extensive science and great ingenuity, can hold out against the evidence of new knowledge, that does not square with their preconceptions; and how long men can retain a practice that is conformable to their prejudices, and expect a benefit from such practice, though constant experience shows its inutility. a late piece of the abbé nollet, printed last year in the memoirs of the french academy of sciences, affords strong instances of this: for though the very relations he gives of the effects of lightning in several churches and other buildings show clearly, that it was conducted from one part to another by wires, gildings, and other pieces of metal that were _within_, or connected with the building, yet in the same paper he objects to the providing metalline conductors _without_ the building, as useless or dangerous.[ ] he cautions people not to ring the church bells during a thunder-storm, lest the lightning, in its way to the earth, should be conducted down to them by the bell ropes,[ ] which are but bad conductors; and yet is against fixing metal rods on the outside of the steeple, which are known to be much better conductors, and which it would certainly chuse to pass in, rather than in dry hemp. and though for a thousand years past bells have been solemnly consecrated by the romish church[ ], in expectation that the sound of such blessed bells would drive away those storms, and secure our buildings from the stroke of lightning; and during so long a period, it has not been found by experience, that places within the reach of such blessed sound, are safer than others where it is never heard; but that on the contrary, the lightning seems to strike steeples of choice, and that at the very time the bells are ringing[ ]; yet still they continue to bless the new bells, and jangle the old ones whenever it thunders.--one would think it was now time to try some other trick;--and ours is recommended (whatever this able philosopher may have been told to the contrary) by more than twelve years experience, wherein, among the great number of houses furnished with iron rods in north america, not one so guarded has been materially hurt with lightning, and several have been evidently preserved by their means; while a number of houses, churches, barns, ships, &c. in different places, unprovided with rods, have been struck and greatly damaged, demolished or burnt. probably the vestries of our english churches are not generally well acquainted with these facts; otherwise, since as good protestants they have no faith in the blessing of bells, they would be less excusable in not providing this other security for their respective churches, and for the good people that may happen to be assembled in them during a tempest, especially as those buildings, from their greater height, are more exposed to the stroke of lightning than our common dwellings. i have nothing new in the philosophical way to communicate to you, except what follows. when i was last year in germany, i met with a singular kind of glass, being a tube about eight inches long, half an inch in diameter, with a hollow ball of near an inch diameter at one end, and one of an inch and half at the other, hermetically sealed, and half filled with water.--if one end is held in the hand, and the other a little elevated above the level, a constant succession of large bubbles proceeds from the end in the hand to the other end, making an appearance that puzzled me much, till i found that the space not filled with water was also free from air, and either filled with a subtle invisible vapour continually rising from the water, and extremely rarefiable by the least heat at one end, and condensable again by the least coolness at the other; or it is the very fluid of fire itself, which parting from the hand pervades the glass, and by its expansive force depresses the water till it can pass between it and the glass, and escape to the other end, where it gets through the glass again into the air. i am rather inclined to the first opinion, but doubtful between the two. an ingenious artist here, mr. nairne, mathematical instrument-maker, has made a number of them from mine, and improved them, for his are much more sensible than those i brought from germany.--i bored a very small hole through the wainscot in the seat of my window, through which a little cold air constantly entered, while the air in the room was kept warmer by fires daily made in it, being winter time. i placed one of his glasses, with the elevated end against this hole; and the bubbles from the other end, which was in a warmer situation, were continually passing day and night, to the no small surprise of even philosophical spectators. each bubble discharged is larger than that from which it proceeds, and yet that is not diminished; and by adding itself to the bubble at the other end, that bubble is not increased, which seems very paradoxical.--when the balls at each end are made large, and the connecting tube very small and bent at right angles, so that the balls, instead of being at the ends, are brought on the side of the tube, and the tube is held so as that the balls are above it, the water will be depressed in that which is held in the hand, and rise in the other as a jet or fountain; when it is all in the other, it begins to boil, as it were, by the vapour passing up through it; and the instant it begins to boil, a sudden coldness is felt in the ball held; a curious experiment, this, first observed and shown me by mr. nairne. there is something in it similar to the old observation, i think mentioned by aristotle, that the bottom of a boiling pot is not warm; and perhaps it may help to explain that fact;--if indeed it be a fact.--when the water stands at an equal height in both these balls, and all at rest; if you wet one of the balls by means of a feather dipt in spirit, though that spirit is of the same temperament as to heat and cold with the water in the glasses, yet the cold occasioned by the evaporation of the spirit from the wetted ball will so condense the vapour over the water contained in that ball, as that the water of the other ball will be pressed up into it, followed by a succession of bubbles, till the spirit is all dried away. perhaps the observations on these little instruments may suggest and be applied to some beneficial uses. it has been thought, that water reduced to vapour by heat was rarefied only fourteen thousand times, and on this principle our engines for raising water by fire are said to be constructed: but if the vapour so much rarefied from water is capable of being itself still farther rarefied to a boundless degree by the application of heat to the vessels or parts of vessels containing the vapour (as at first it is applied to those containing the water) perhaps a much greater power may be obtained, with little additional expence. possibly too, the power of easily moving water from one end to the other of a moveable beam (suspended in the middle like a scale-beam) by a small degree of heat, may be applied advantageously to some other mechanical purposes.**** i am, &c. b. franklin. footnotes: [ ] john winthrop. _editor._ [ ] notre curiosité pourroit peut-être s'applandir des recherches qu'elle nous a fait faire sur la nature du tonnerre, & sur la mécanisme de ses principaux effets, mais ce n'est point ce qu'il y a de plus important; il vaudroit bien mieux que nous puissions tronver quelque moyen de nous en garantir: on y a pensé; on s'est même flatté d'avoir fait cette grande découverte; mais malheureusement douze années d'épreuves & un peu de réflexion, nous apprennent qu'il ne faut pas compter sur les promesses qu'on nous a faites. je l'ai dit, il y a long temps, and avec regret, toutes ces pointes de fer qu'on dresse en l'air, soit comme _électroscopes_, soit comme préservatifs,----sont plus propre à nous attirer le feu du tonnerre qu'à nous en préserver;----& je persiste â dire que le projet d'épuiser une nuée orageuse du feu dont elle est chargée, n'est pas celui d'un physicien,----. _memoire sur les effets du tonnerre._ [ ] les cloches, en vertu de leur bénédiction, doivent écarter les orages & nous preserver des coups de foudre; mais l'église permet à la prudence humaine le choix des momens où il convient d'user de ce préservatif. je ne sais si le son, considéré physiquement, est capable ou non de faire crever une nuée, & de causer l'épanchement de son feu vers les objets terrestres, mais il est certain & prouvé par l'expérience, que la tonnerre peut tomber sur un clocher, soit que l'on y sonne ou que l'on n'y sonne point; & si cela arrive dans le premier cas, les sonneurs sont en grand danger, parcequ'ils tiennent des cordes par lesquelles la commotion de la foudre peut se communiquer jusq'à eux: il est donc plus sage de laisser les cloches en repos quand l'orage est arrivé au-dessus de l'église. ibid. [ ] suivant le rituel de paris, lorsqu'on benit des cloches, on recite les oraisons suivantes: _benedic, domine ... quotiescumque sonuerit, procul recedat virtus insidiantium, umbra phantasmatis, incursio turbinum, percussio fulminum, læsio tonitruum, calamitas tempestatum, omnisque spiritus procellarum, &c._ _deus, qui per beatum moïsen, &c. ... procul pellentur insidiæ inimici, fragor grandinum, procella turbinum, impetus tempestatum, temperentur infesta tonitrua. &c._ _omnipotens sempiterne deus, &c. ... ut ante sonitum ejus effugentur ignita jacula inimici, percussio fulminum, impetus lapidum, læsio tempestatum, &c._ [ ] en . m. deslandes fit savoir à l'academie royale des sciences, que la nuit du ou d'avril de la mème année, le tonnerre étoit tombé sur vingtquatre églises, dequis landernau jusqu'à saint-pol-de-léon en bretagne; que ces églises étoient précisément celles où l'on sonnoit, & que la foudre avoit épargné celles ou l'on ne sonnoit pas: que dans celle de gouisnon, qui fut entièrement ruinée, le tonnerre tua deux personnes de quatre qui sonnoient, &c. _hist. du l'ac. r. des sci. ._ _experiments, observations, and facts, tending to support the opinion of the utility of long pointed rods, for securing buildings from damage by strokes of lightning._ read at the committee appointed to consider the erecting conductors to secure the magazines at purfleet, aug. , . experiment i. the prime conductor of an electric machine, a. b. (_see plate_ iv.) being supported about inches and a half above the table by a wax-stand, and under it erected a _pointed wire_ inches and a half high, and one-fifth of an inch thick, and tapering to a sharp point, and communicating with the table; when the _point_ (being uppermost) is _covered_ by the end of a finger, the conductor may be full charged, and the electrometer c[ ], will rise to the height indicating a full charge: but the moment the point is _uncovered_, the ball of the electrometer drops, showing the prime conductor to be instantly discharged and nearly emptied of its electricity. turn the wire its _blunt_ end upwards (which represents an unpointed bar) and no such effect follows, the electrometer remaining at its usual height when the prime conductor is charged. [illustration: (of these experiments) _plate iv._ _vol. i. page ._ _published as the act directs, april , , by longman, hurst, rees & orme, paternoster row._] observation. _what_ quantity of lightning, a high pointed rod well communicating with the earth may be expected to discharge from the clouds silently in a short time, is yet unknown; but i have reason from a particular fact to think it may at some times be very great. in philadelphia i had such a rod fixed to the top of my chimney, and extending about nine feet above it. from the foot of this rod, a wire (the thickness of a goose-quill) came through a covered glass tube in the roof, and down through the well of the stair-case; the lower end connected with the iron spear of a pump. on the stair-case opposite to my chamber-door, the wire was divided; the ends separated about six inches, a little bell on each end; [and] between the bells a little brass ball suspended by a silk thread, to play between and strike the bells when clouds passed with electricity in them. after having frequently drawn sparks and charged bottles from the bell of the upper wire, i was one night waked by loud cracks on the stair-case. starting up and opening the door, i perceived that the brass ball, instead of vibrating as usual between the bells, was repelled and kept at a distance from both; while the fire passed sometimes in very large quick cracks from bell to bell; and sometimes in a continued dense white stream, seemingly as large as my finger, whereby the whole stair-case was enlightened as with sunshine, so that one might see to pick up a pin[ ]. and from the apparent quantity thus discharged, i cannot but conceive that a _number_[ ] of such conductors must considerably lessen that of any approaching cloud, before it comes so near as to deliver its contents in a general stroke:--an effect not to be expected from bars _unpointed_; if the above experiment with the blunt end of the wire is deemed pertinent to the case. experiment ii. the pointed wire under the prime conductor continuing of the same height, _pinch_ it between the thumb and finger near the top, so as _just to conceal_ the point; then turning the globe, the electrometer will rise and mark the full charge. slip the fingers down so as to discover about half an inch of the wire, then another half inch, and then another; at every one of these motions _discovering more and more_ of the pointed wire; you will see the electrometer fall quick and proportionably, stopping when you stop. if you slip down the _whole distance_ at once, the ball falls instantly down to the stem. observation. from this experiment it seems that a greater effect in drawing off the lightning from the clouds may be expected from _long_ pointed rods, than from _short_ ones; i mean from such as show the greatest length, _above the building_ they are fixed on. experiment iii. instead of pinching the point between the thumb and finger, as in the last experiment, keep the thumb and finger each at _near an inch distance_ from it, but at the _same height_, the point between them. in this situation, though the point is fairly exposed to the prime conductor, it has little or no effect; the electrometer rises to the height of a full charge.--but the moment the fingers are _taken away_, the ball falls quick to the stem. observation. to explain this, it is supposed, that one reason of the sudden effect produced by a long naked pointed wire is, that (by the repulsive power of the positive charge in the prime conductor) the natural quantity of electricity contained in the pointed wire is driven down into the earth, and the point of the wire made strongly _negative_; whence it attracts the electricity of the prime conductor more strongly than bodies in their natural state would do; the _small quantity of common matter_ in the point, not being able by its attractive force to retain its _natural quantity of the electric fluid_, against the force of that repulsion.--but the finger and thumb being substantial and blunt bodies, though as near the prime conductor, hold up better their _own_ natural quantity against the force of that repulsion; and so, continuing nearly in the natural state, they jointly operate on the electric fluid in the point, opposing its descent, and _aiding the point_ to retain it; contrary to the repelling power of the prime conductor, which would drive it down.--and this may also serve to explain the different powers of the point in the preceding experiment, on the slipping down the finger and thumb to different distances. hence is collected, that a pointed rod erected _between two tall chimnies_, and very little higher (an instance of which i have seen) cannot have so good an effect, as if it had been erected on one of the chimneys, its whole length above it. experiment iv. if, _instead_ of a long pointed wire, a _large solid body_ (to represent a building without a point) be brought under and as near the prime conductor, when charged; the ball of the electrometer will _fall_ a little; and on taking away the large body, will _rise again_. observation. its _rising again_ shows that the prime conductor lost little or none of its electric charge, as it had done through the point: the _falling_ of the ball while the large body was under the conductor therefore shows, that a quantity of its atmosphere was drawn from the end where the electrometer is placed to the part immediately over the large body, and there accumulated _ready_ to strike into it with its whole undiminished force, as soon as within the striking distance; and, were the prime conductor moveable like a _cloud_, it would approach the body by attraction till within that distance. the swift motion of clouds, as driven by the winds, probably prevents this happening so often as otherwise it might do: for, though parts of the cloud may stoop towards a building as they pass, in consequence of such attraction, yet they are carried forward beyond the striking distance before they could by their descending come within it. experiment v. attach a small light _lock of cotton_ to the underside of the prime conductor, so that it may hang down towards the pointed wire mentioned in the first experiment. _cover_ the point with your finger, and the globe being turned, the cotton will extend itself, stretching down towards the finger, as at _a_; but on _uncovering_ the point, it instantly flies up to the prime conductor, as at _b_, and continues there as long as the point is uncovered. the moment you cover it again, the cotton flies down again, extending itself towards the finger; and the same happens in degree, if (instead of the finger) you use, uncovered, the _blunt_ end of the wire uppermost. observation. to explain this, it is supposed that the cotton, by its connection with the prime conductor, receives from it a quantity of its electricity; which occasions its being attracted by the _finger_ that remains still in nearly its natural state. but when a _point_ is opposed to the cotton, its electricity is thereby taken from it, faster than it can at a distance be supplied with a fresh quantity from the conductor. therefore being reduced _nearer_ to the natural state, it is attracted _up_ to the electrified prime conductor; _rather than down_, as before, to the finger. supposing farther that the prime conductor represents a cloud charged with the electric fluid; the cotton, a ragged fragment of cloud (of which the underside of great thunder-clouds are seen to have many) the finger, a chimney or highest part of a building.--we then may conceive that when such a cloud passes over a _building_, some one of its ragged under-hanging fragments may be drawn down by the chimney or other high part of the edifice; creating thereby a _more easy communication_ between it and the great cloud.--but a _long pointed rod_ being presented to this fragment, may occasion its receding, like the cotton, up to the great cloud; and thereby _increase_, instead _of lessening_ the distance, so as often to make it greater than the striking distance. turning the _blunt end of a wire_ uppermost (which represents the unpointed bar) it appears that the same good effect is not from that to be expected. a long pointed rod it is therefore imagined, may _prevent_ some strokes; as well as _conduct_ others that fall upon it, when a great body of cloud comes on so heavily that the above repelling operation on fragments cannot take place. experiment vi. opposite the side of the prime conductor place _separately_, isolated by wax stems, mr. canton's two boxes with pith balls suspended by fine linen threads. on each box, lay a wire six inches long and one-fifth of an inch thick, tapering to a sharp point; but so laid, as that four inches of the _pointed_ end of _one_ wire, and an equal length of the _blunt_ end of the _other_, may project beyond the ends of the boxes; and both at eighteen inches distance from the prime conductor. then charging the prime conductor by a turn or two of the globe, the balls of each pair will separate; those of the box, whence the point projects most, _considerably_; the others _less_. touch the prime conductor, and those of the box with the _blunt_ point will _collapse_, and join. those connected with the _point_ will at the same time approach each other, _till_ within about an inch, and there _remain_. observation. this seems a proof, that though the small sharpened part of the wire must have had a _less natural_ quantity in it before the operation, than the thick blunt part; yet a greater quantity was _driven down from it_ to the balls. thence it is again inferred, that the pointed rod is rendered _more negative_: and farther, that if a _stroke must fall_ from the cloud over a building, furnished with such a rod, it is more likely to be drawn to that pointed rod, than to a blunt one; as being more strongly negative, and of course its attraction stronger. and it seems more eligible, that the lightning should fall on the point of the conductor (provided to convey it into the earth) than on any other part of the building, _thence_ to proceed to such conductor. which end is also more likely to be obtained by the length and loftiness of the rod; as protecting more extensively the building under it. it has been _objected_, that erecting pointed rods upon _edifices_, is to _invite_ and draw the lightning into _them_; and therefore dangerous. were such rods to be erected on buildings, _without continuing the communication_ quite down into the moist earth, this objection might then have weight; but when such compleat conductors are made, the lightning is invited not into the building, but into the _earth_, the situation it aims at, and which it always seizes every help to obtain, even from broken partial metalline conductors. it has also been suggested, that from such electric experiments _nothing certain can be concluded as to the great operations of nature_; since it is often seen, that experiments, which have succeeded in small, in large have failed. it is true that in mechanics this has sometimes happened. but when it is considered that we owe our first knowledge of the nature and operations of lightning, to observations on such small experiments; and that on carefully comparing the most accurate accounts of former facts, and the exactest relations of those that have occurred since, the effects have surprizingly agreed with the theory; it is humbly conceived that in natural philosophy, in this branch of it at least, the suggestion has not so much weight; and that the farther new experiments now adduced in recommendation of _long_ sharp-pointed rods, may have some claim to credit and consideration. it has been urged too, that though points may have considerable effects on a _small_ prime conductor at _small distances_; yet on _great_ clouds and at _great distances_, nothing is to be expected from them. to this it is answered, that in those _small_ experiments it is evident the points act at a greater than the _striking_ distance; and in the large way, their service is _only expected_ where there is _such_ nearness of the cloud, as to _endanger a stroke_; and there, it cannot be doubted the points must have some effect. and if the quantity discharged by a single pointed rod may be so considerable as i have shown it; the quantity discharged by a number will be proportionably greater. but this part of the theory does not depend alone on _small_ experiments. since the practice of erecting pointed rods in america (now near twenty years) five of them have been struck by lightning, viz. mr. raven's and mr. maine's in south carolina; mr. tucker's in virginia; mr. west's and mr. moulder's in philadelphia. possibly there may have been more that have not come to my knowledge. but in every one of these, the lightning did _not_ fall upon the _body of the house_, but precisely on the several _points_ of the rods; and, though the conductors were sometimes _not sufficiently large and complete_, was conveyed into the earth, without any material damage to the buildings. facts then _in great_, as far as we have them authenticated, justify the opinion that is drawn from the experiments _in small_ as above related. it has also been objected, that unless we knew the quantity that might _possibly_ be discharged at one stroke from the clouds, we cannot be sure we have provided _sufficient_ conductors; and therefore cannot depend on their conveying away _all_ that may fall on their points. indeed we have nothing to form a judgment by in this but past facts; and we know of no instance where a _compleat_ conductor to the moist earth _has_ been insufficient, if half an inch diameter. it is probable that many strokes of lightning have been conveyed through the common leaden pipes affixed to houses to carry down the water from the roof to the ground: and there is no account of such pipes being melted and destroyed, as must sometimes have happened if they had been insufficient. we can then only judge of the dimensions proper for a conductor of lightning, as we do of those proper for a _conductor of rain_, by past observation. and as we think a pipe of three inches bore sufficient to carry off the rain that falls on a square of feet, because we never saw such a pipe glutted by any shower; so we may judge a conductor of an inch diameter, more than sufficient for any stroke of lightning that will fall on its point. it is true that if another deluge should happen wherein the windows of heaven are to be opened, such pipes may be unequal to the falling quantity; and if god for our sins should think fit to rain fire upon us, as upon some cities of old, it is not expected that our conductors of whatever size, should secure our houses against a miracle. probably as water drawn up into the air and there forming clouds, is disposed to fall again in _rain_ by its natural gravity, as soon as a number of particles sufficient to make a drop can get together; so when the clouds are (by whatever means) over or under-charged [with the _electric fluid_] to a degree sufficient to attract them towards the earth, the equilibrium is restored, before the difference becomes great beyond that degree. mr. lane's _electrometer_, for limiting precisely the quantity of a shock that is to be administered in a medical view, may serve to make this more easily intelligible. the discharging knob does by a screw approach the conductor to the distance intended, but there remains fixed. whatever power there may be in the glass globe to collect the fulminating fluid, and whatever capacity of receiving and accumulating it there may be in the bottle or glass jar; yet neither the accumulation or the discharge ever exceeds the destined quantity. thus, were the _clouds_ always at a certain fixed distance from the earth, all discharges would be made when the quantity accumulated was equal to the distance: but there is a circumstance which by occasionally lessening the distance, lessens the discharge; to wit, the moveableness of the clouds, and their being drawn nearer to the earth by attraction when electrified; so that discharges are thereby rendered more frequent and of course less violent. hence whatever the quantity may be in nature, and whatever the power in the clouds of collecting it; yet an accumulation and force beyond what mankind has hitherto been acquainted with is scarce to be expected[ ]. b. f. _aug. , ._ footnotes: [ ] mr. henley's. [ ] mr. de romas saw still greater quantities of lightning brought down by the wire of his kite. he had "explosions from it, the noise of which greatly resembled that of thunder, and were heard (from without) into the heart of the city, notwithstanding the various noises there. the fire seen at the instant of the explosion had the shape of a spindle eight inches long and five lines in diameter. yet from the time of the explosion to the end of the experiment, no lightning was seen above, nor any thunder heard. at another time the streams of fire issuing from it were observed to be an inch thick and ten feet long."--_see dr. priestley's history of electricity_, pages - , _first edition_. [ ] twelve were proposed on and near the magazines at purfleet. [ ] it may be fit to mention here, that the immediate occasion of the dispute concerning the preference between pointed and blunt conductors of lightning, arose as follows:--a powder-mill having blown up at brescia, in consequence of its being struck with lightning, the english board of ordnance applied to their painter, mr. wilson, then of some note as an electrician, for a method to prevent the like accident to their magazines at purfleet. mr. wilson having advised a blunt conductor, and it being understood that dr. franklin's opinion, formed upon the spot, was for a pointed one; the matter was referred in , to the royal society, and by them as usual, to a committee, who, after consultation, prescribed a method conformable to dr. franklin's theory. but a harmless stroke of lightning, having under particular circumstances, fallen upon one of the buildings and its apparatus in may ; the subject came again into violent agitation, and was again referred to the society, and by the society again referred to a new committee, which committee confirmed the decision of the first committee. b. v.[ ] [ ] wherever this signature occurs, the note is taken from a volume of dr. franklin's writings, entitled political, miscellaneous, and philosophical pieces, printed for johnson, . the editor of that volume, though a young man at the time, had already evinced extraordinary talents, and was the friend and correspondent of our author. as he has chosen to withhold his name, we conceive ourselves not entitled to disclose it: but we shall take the freedom of an acquaintance to use the notes occasionally, deeming them in many instances valuable historical records. _editor._ to professor landriani, of italy. _on the utility of electrical conductors._ _philadelphia, oct. , ._ sir, i have received the excellent work, _upon the utility of electrical conductors_, which you had the goodness to send me. i read it with great pleasure, and beg you to accept my sincere thanks for it. upon my return to this country, i found the number of conductors much increased, many proofs of their efficacy in preserving buildings from lightning having demonstrated their utility. among other instances, my own house was one day attacked by lightning, which occasioned the neighbours to run in to give assistance, in case of its being on fire. but no damage was done, and my family was only found a good deal frightened with the violence of the explosion. last year, my house being enlarged, the conductor was obliged to be taken down. i found, upon examination, that the pointed termination of copper, which was originally nine inches long, and about one third of an inch in diameter in its thickest part, had been almost entirely melted; and that its connection with the rod of iron below was very slight. thus, in the course of time, this invention has proved of use to the author of it, and has added this personal advantage to the pleasure he before received, from having been useful to others. mr. rittenhouse, our astronomer, has informed me, that having observed with his excellent telescope, many conductors that are within the field of his view, he has remarked in various instances, that the points were melted in like manner. there is no example of a house, provided with a perfect conductor, which has suffered any considerable damage; and even those which are without them have suffered little, since conductors have come common in this city. b. franklin. to john pringle, m. d. and f. r. s. _on the effects of electricity in paralytic cases._ _craven-street, dec. , ._ sir, in compliance with your request, i send you the following account of what i can at present recollect relating to the effects of electricity in paralytic cases, which have fallen under my observation. some years since, when the news-papers made mention of great cures performed in italy and germany, by means of electricity, a number of paralytics were brought to me from different parts of pensylvania, and the neighbouring provinces, to be electrised, which i did for them at their request. my method was, to place the patient first in a chair, on an electric stool, and draw a number of large strong sparks from all parts of the affected limb or side. then i fully charged two six-gallon glass jars, each of which had about three square feet of surface coated; and i sent the united shock of these through the affected limb or limbs, repeating the stroke commonly three times each day. the first thing observed, was an immediate greater sensible warmth in the lame limbs that had received the stroke than in the others; and the next morning the patients usually related, that they had in the night felt a pricking sensation in the flesh of the paralytic limbs; and would sometimes show a number of small red spots, which they supposed were occasioned by those prickings. the limbs, too, were found more capable of voluntary motion, and seemed to receive strength. a man, for instance, who could not the first day lift the lame hand from off his knee, would the next day raise it four or five inches, the third day higher; and on the fifth day was able, but with a feeble languid motion, to take off his hat. these appearances gave great spirits to the patients, and made them hope a perfect cure; but i do not remember that i ever saw any amendment after the fifth day; which the patients perceiving, and finding the shocks pretty severe, they became discouraged, went home, and in a short time relapsed; so that i never knew any advantage from electricity in palsies that was permanent. and how far the apparent temporary advantage might arise from the exercise in the patients journey, and coming daily to my house, or from the spirits given by the hope of success, enabling them to exert more strength in moving their limbs, i will not pretend to say. perhaps some permanent advantage might have been obtained, if the electric shocks had been accompanied with proper medicine and regimen, under the direction a skilful physician. it may be, too, that a few great strokes, as given in my method, may not be so proper as many small ones; since by the account from scotland of a case, in which two hundred shocks from a phial were given daily, it seems, that a perfect cure has been made. as to any uncommon strength supposed to be in the machine used in that case, i imagine it could have no share in the effect produced; since the strength of the shock from charged glass, is in proportion to the quantity of surface of the glass coated; so that my shocks from those large jars, must have been much greater than any that could be received from a phial held in the hand. i am, with great respect, sir, your most obedient servant, b. franklin. _electrical experiments on amber._ _saturday, july , ._ to try, at the request of a friend, whether amber finely powdered might be melted and run together again by means of the electric fluid, i took a piece of small glass tube, about two inches and a half long, the bore about one-twelfth of an inch diameter, the glass itself about the same thickness; i introduced into this tube some powder of amber, and with two pieces of wire nearly fitting the bore, one inserted at one end, the other at the other, i rammed the powder hard between them in the middle of the tube, where it stuck fast, and was in length about half an inch. then leaving the wires in the tube, i made them part of the electric circuit, and discharged through them three rows of my case of bottles. the event was, that the glass was broke into very small pieces and those dispersed with violence in all directions. as i did not expect this, i had not, as in other experiments, laid thick paper over the glass to save my eyes, so several of the pieces struck my face smartly, and one of them cut my lip a little so as to make it bleed. i could find no part of the amber; but the table where the tube lay was stained very black in spots, such as might be made by a thick smoke forced on it by a blast, and the air was filled with a strong smell, somewhat like that from burnt gunpowder. whence i imagined, that the amber was burnt, and had exploded as gunpowder would have done in the same circumstances. that i might better see the effect on the amber, i made the next experiment in a tube formed of a card rolled up and bound strongly with packthread. its bore was about one-eighth of an inch diameter. i rammed powder of amber into this as i had done in the other, and as the quantity of amber was greater, i increased the quantity of electric fluid, by discharging through it at once five rows of my bottles. on opening the tube, i found that some of the powder had exploded, an impression was made on the tube, though it was not hurt, and most of the powder remaining was turned black, which i suppose might be by the smoke forced through it from the burned part: some of it was hard; but as it powdered again when pressed by the fingers, i suppose that hardness not to arise from melting any parts in it, but merely from my ramming the powder when i charged the tube. b. franklin. to thomas ronayne, esq. at corke[ ]. _on the electricity of the fogs in ireland._ _london, april , ._ sir, i have received your very obliging and very ingenious letter by captain kearney. your observations upon the electricity of fogs and the air in ireland, and upon different circumstances of storms, appear to me very curious, and i thank you for them. there is not, in my opinion, any part of the earth whatever which is, or can be, naturally in a state of negative electricity: and though different circumstances may occasion an inequality in the distribution of the fluid, the equilibrium is immediately restored by means of its extreme subtilty, and of the excellent conductors with which the humid earth is amply provided. i am of opinion, however, that when a cloud, well charged positively, passes near the earth, it repels and forces down into the earth that natural portion of electricity, which exists near its surface, and in buildings, trees, &c. so as actually to reduce them to a negative state before it strikes them. i am of opinion too, that the negative state in which you have frequently found the balls, which are suspended from your apparatus, is not always occasioned by clouds in a negative state; but more commonly by clouds positively electrified, which have passed over them, and which in their passage have repelled and driven off a part of the electrical matter, which naturally existed in the apparatus; so that what remained after the passing of the clouds, diffusing itself uniformly through the apparatus, the whole became reduced to a negative state. if you have read my experiments made in continuation of those of mr. canton, you will readily understand this; but you may easily make a few experiments, which will clearly demonstrate it. let a common glass be warmed before the fire that it may continue very dry for some time; set it upon a table, and place upon it the small box made use of by mr. canton, so that the balls may hang a little beyond the edge of the table. rub another glass, which has previously been warmed in a similar manner, with a piece of black silk or a silk handkerchief, in order to electrify it. hold then the glass above the little box, at about the distance of three or four inches from that part, which is most distant from the balls; and you will see the balls separate from each other; being positively electrified by the natural portion of electricity, which was in the box, and which is driven to the further part of it by the repulsive power of the atmosphere in the excited glass. touch the box near the little balls (the excited glass continuing in the same state) and the balls will again unite; the quantity of electricity which had been driven to this part being drawn off by your finger. withdraw then both your finger and the glass at the same instant, and the quantity of electricity which remained in the box, uniformly diffusing itself, the balls will again be separated; being now in a negative state. while things are in this situation, begin once more to excite your glass, and hold it above the box, but not too near, and you will find, that when brought within a certain distance, the balls will at first approach each other, being then in a natural state. in proportion as the glass is brought nearer, they, will again separate, being positive. when the glass is moved beyond them, and at some little farther distance, they will unite again, being in a natural state. when it is entirely removed, they will separate again, being then made negative. the excited glass in this experiment may represent a cloud positively charged, which you see is capable of producing in this manner all the different changes in the apparatus, without the least necessity for supposing any negative cloud. i am nevertheless fully convinced, that these are negative clouds; because they sometimes absorb, through the medium of the apparatus, the positive electricity of a large jar, the hundredth part of which the apparatus itself would have not been able to receive or contain at once. in fact, it is not difficult to conceive, that a large cloud, highly charged positively, may reduce smaller clouds to a negative state, when it passes above or near them, by forcing a part of their natural portion of the fluid either to their inferior surfaces, whence it may strike into the earth, or to the opposite side, whence it may strike into the adjacent clouds; so that when the large cloud has passed off to a distance, the small clouds shall remain in a negative state, exactly like the apparatus; the former (like the latter) being frequently insulated bodies, having communication neither with the earth nor with other clouds. upon the same principle it may easily be conceived, in what manner a large negative cloud may render others positive. the experiment which you mention, of filing your glass, is analogous to one which i made in , or . i had supposed in my preceding letters, that the pores of glass were smaller in the interior parts than near the surface, and that on this account they prevented the passage of the electrical fluid. to prove whether this was actually the case or not, i ground one of my phials in a part where it was extremely thin, grinding it considerably beyond the middle, and very near to the opposite superficies, as i found, upon breaking it after the experiment. it was charged nevertheless after being ground, equally well as before, which convinced me, that my hypothesis on this subject was erroneous. it is difficult to conceive where the immense superfluous quantity of electricity on the charged side of a glass is deposited. i send you my paper concerning meteors, which was lately published here in the philosophical transactions, immediately after a paper by mr. hamilton on the same subject. i am, sir, &c. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] this letter is translated from the french edition of dr. franklin's works, as are also all that follow, to the appendix, the one to miss stephenson excepted. _editor._ _mode of ascertaining, whether the power, giving a shock to those who touch either the surinam eel, or the torpedo, be electrical._ . touch the fish with a stick of dry sealing-wax, or a glass rod, and observe if the shock be communicated by means of those bodies. touch the same fish with an iron, or other metalline rod. if the shock be communicated by the latter body, and not by the others, it is probably not the mechanical effect, as has been supposed, of some muscular action in the fish, but of a subtile fluid, in this respect analogous at least to the electric fluid. . observe farther, whether the shock can be conveyed without the metal being actually in contact with the fish, and if it can, whether, in the space between, any light appear, and a slight noise or crackling be heard. if so, these also are properties common to the electric fluid. . lastly, touch the fish with the wire of a small leyden bottle, and if the shock can be received across, observe whether the wire will attract and repel light bodies, and you feel a shock, while holding the bottle in one hand, and touching the wire with the other. if so, the fluid, capable of producing such effects seems to have all the known properties of the electric fluid. addition, _ th august, ,_ _in consequence of the experiments and discoveries made in france by mr. walsh, and communicated by him to dr. franklin._ let several persons, standing on the floor, hold hands, and let one of them touch the fish, so as to receive a shock. if the shock be felt by all, place the fish flat on a plate of metal, and let one of the persons holding hands touch this plate, while the person farthest from the plate touches the upper part of the fish with a metal rod: then observe, if the force of the shock be the same as to all the persons forming the circle, or is stronger than before. repeat this experiment with this difference: let two or three of the persons forming the circle, instead of holding by the hand, hold each an uncharged electrical bottle, so that the little balls at the end of the wires may touch, and observe, after the shock, if these wires will attract and repel light bodies, and if a ball of cork, suspended by a long silk string between the wires, a little distance from the bottles, will be alternately attracted and repelled by them. to m. dubourg. _on the analogy between magnetism and electricity._ _london, march , ._ sir, as to the magnetism, which seems produced by electricity, my real opinion is, that these two powers of nature have no affinity with each other, and that the apparent production of magnetism is purely accidental. the matter may be explained thus: st, the earth is a great magnet. dly, there is a subtile fluid, called the magnetic fluid, which exists in all ferruginous bodies, equally attracted by all their parts, and equally diffused through their whole substance; at least where the equilibrium is not disturbed by a power superior to the attraction of the iron. dly, this natural quantity of the magnetic fluid, which is contained in a given piece of iron, may be put in motion so as to be more rarefied in one part and more condensed in another; but it cannot be withdrawn by any force that we are yet made acquainted with, so as to leave the whole in a negative state, at least relatively to its natural quantity; neither can it be introduced so as to put the iron into a positive state, or render it _plus_. in this respect, therefore magnetism differs from electricity. thly, a piece of soft iron allows the magnetic fluid which it contains to be put in motion by a moderate force, so that being placed in a line with the magnetic pole of the earth, it immediately acquires the properties of a magnet; its magnetic fluid being drawn or forced from one extremity to the other; and this effect continues as long as it remains in the same position, one of its extremities becoming positively magnetised, and the other negatively. this temporary magnetism ceases as soon as the iron is turned east and west, the fluid immediately diffusing itself equally through the whole iron, as in its natural state. thly, the magnetic fluid in hard iron, or steel, is put in motion with more difficulty, requiring a force greater than the earth to excite it; and when once it has been forced from one extremity of the steel to the other, it is not easy for it to return; and thus a bar of steel is converted into a permanent magnet. thly, a great heat, by expanding the substance of this steel, and increasing the distance between its particles, affords a passage to the electric fluid, which is thus again restored to its proper equilibrium; the bar appearing no longer to possess magnetic virtue. thly, a bar of steel which is not magnetic, being placed in the same position, relatively to the pole of the earth, which the magnetic needle assumes, and in this position being heated and suddenly cooled, becomes a permanent magnet. the reason is, that while the bar was hot, the magnetic fluid which it naturally contained was easily forced from one extremity to the other by the magnetic virtue of the earth; and that the hardness and condensation, produced by the sudden cooling of the bar, retained it in this state without permitting it to resume its original situation. thly, the violent vibrations of the particles of a steel bar, when forcibly struck in the same position, separate the particles in such a manner during their vibration, that they permit a portion of the magnetic fluid to pass, influenced by the natural magnetism of the earth; and it is afterwards so forcibly retained by the re-approach of the particles when the vibration ceases, that the bar becomes a permanent magnet. thly, an electric shock passing through a needle in a like position, and dilating it for an instant, renders it, for the same reason, a permanent magnet; that is, not by imparting magnetism to it, but by allowing its proper magnetic fluid to put itself in motion. thly, thus, there is not in reality more magnetism in a given piece of steel after it is become magnetic, than existed in it before. the natural quantity is only displaced or repelled. hence it follows, that a strong apparatus of magnets may charge millions of bars of steel, without communicating to them any part of its proper magnetism; only putting in motion the magnetism which already existed in these bars. i am chiefly indebted to that excellent philosopher of petersburgh, mr. Æpinus, for this hypothesis, which appears to me equally ingenious and solid. i say, _chiefly_, because, as it is many years since i read his book, which i have left in america, it may happen, that i may have added to or altered it in some respect; and if i have misrepresented any thing, the error ought to be charged to my account. if this hypothesis appears admissible, it will serve as an answer to the greater part of your questions. i have only one remark to add, which is, that however great the force is of magnetism employed, you can only convert a given portion of steel into a magnet of a force proportioned to its capacity of retaining its magnetic fluid in the new position in which it is placed, without letting it return. now this power is different in different kinds of steel, but limited in all kinds whatever. b. franklin. to messrs. dubourg and d'alibard[ ]. _concerning the mode of rendering meat tender by electricity._ my dear friends, my answer to your questions concerning the mode of rendering meat tender by electricity, can only be founded upon conjecture; for i have not experiments enough to warrant the facts. all that i can say at present is, that i think electricity might be employed for this purpose, and i shall state what follows as the observations or reasons, which make me presume so. it has been observed, that lightning, by rarefying and reducing into vapour the moisture contained in solid wood, in an oak, for instance, has forcibly separated its fibres, and broken it into small splinters; that by penetrating intimately the hardest metals, as iron, it has separated the parts in an instant, so as to convert a perfect solid into a state of fluidity: it is not then improbable, that the same subtile matter, passing through the bodies of animals with rapidity, should possess sufficient force to produce an effect nearly similar. the flesh of animals, fresh killed in the usual manner, is firm, hard, and not in a very eatable state, because the particles adhere too forcibly to each other. at a certain period, the cohesion is weakened and in its progress towards putrefaction, which tends to produce a total separation, the flesh becomes what we call tender, or is in that state most proper to be used as our food. it has frequently been remarked, that animals killed by lightning putrify immediately. this cannot be invariably the case, since a quantity of lightning sufficient to kill, may not be sufficient to tear and divide the fibres and particles of flesh, and reduce them to that tender state, which is the prelude to putrefaction. hence it is, that some animals killed in this manner will keep longer than others. but the putrefaction sometimes proceeds with surprising celerity. a respectable person assured me, that he once knew a remarkable instance of this: a whole flock of sheep in scotland, being closely assembled under a tree, were killed by a flash of lightning; and it being rather late in the evening, the proprietor, desirous of saving something, sent persons early the next morning to flay them; but the putrefaction was such, and the stench so abominable, that they had not the courage to execute their orders, and the bodies were accordingly buried in their skins. it is not unreasonable to presume, that between the period of their death and that of their putrefaction, a time intervened in which the flesh might be only tender, and only sufficiently so to be served at table. add to this, that persons, who have eaten of fowls killed by our feeble imitation of lightning (electricity) and dressed immediately, have asserted, that the flesh was remarkably tender. the little utility of this practice has perhaps prevented its being much adopted. for though it sometimes happens, that a company unexpectedly arriving at a country-house, or an unusual conflux of travellers to an inn, may render it necessary, to kill a number of animals for immediate use; yet as travellers have commonly a good appetite, little attention has been paid to the trifling inconvenience of having their meat a little tough. as this kind of death is nevertheless more sudden, and consequently less severe, than any other, if this should operate as a motive with compassionate persons to employ it for animals sacrificed for their use, they may conduct the process thus: having prepared a battery of six large glass jars (each from to pints) as for the leyden experiment, and having established a communication, as usual, from the interior surface of each with the prime conductor, and having given them a full charge (which with a good machine may be executed in a few minutes, and may be estimated by an electrometer) a chain which communicates with the exterior of the jars must be wrapped round the thighs of the fowl; after which the operator, holding it by the wings, turned back and made to touch behind, must raise it so high that the head may receive the first shock from the prime conductor. the animal dies instantly. let the head be immediately cut off to make it bleed, when it may be plucked and dressed immediately. this quantity of electricity is supposed sufficient for a turkey of ten pounds weight, and perhaps for a lamb. experience alone will inform us of the requisite proportions for animals of different forms and ages. probably not less will be required to render a small bird, which is very old, tender, than for a larger one, which is young. it is easy to furnish the requisite quantity of electricity, by employing a greater or less number of jars. as six jars, however, discharged at once, are capable of giving a very violent shock, the operator must be very circumspect, lest he should happen to make the experiment on his own flesh, instead of that of the fowl. b. franklin. footnote: [ ] this letter has no date, but the one to which it is an answer is dated may , . _editor._ to m. dubourg. _in answer to some queries concerning the choice of glass for the leyden experiment._ _london, june , ._ sir, i wish, with you, that some chemist (who should, if possible, be at the same time an electrician) would, in pursuance of the excellent hints contained in your letter, undertake to work upon glass with the view you have recommended. by means of a perfect knowledge of this substance, with respect to its electrical qualities, we might proceed with more certainty, as well in making our own experiments, as in repeating those, which have been made by others in different countries, which i believe have frequently been attended with different success on account of differences in the glass employed, thence occasioning frequent misunderstandings and contrariety of opinions. there is another circumstance much to be desired with respect to glass, and that is, that it should not be subject to break when highly charged in the leyden experiment. i have known eight jars broken out of twenty, and at another time, twelve out of thirty-five. a similar loss would greatly discourage electricians desirous of accumulating a great power for certain experiments.--we have never been able hitherto to account for the cause of such misfortunes. the first idea which occurs is, that the positive electricity, being accumulated on one side of the glass, rushes violently through it, in order to supply the deficiency on the other side and to restore the equilibrium. this however i cannot conceive to be the true reason, when i consider, that a great number of jars being united, so as to be charged and discharged at the same time, the breaking of a single jar will discharge the whole; for, if the accident proceeded from the weakness of the glass, it is not probable, that eight of them should be precisely of the same degree of weakness, as to break every one at the same instant, it being more likely, that the weakest should break first, and, by breaking, secure the rest; and again, when it is necessary to produce a certain effect, by means of the whole charge passing through a determined circle (as, for instance, to melt a small wire) if the charge, instead of passing in this circle, rushed through the sides of the jars, the intended effect would not be produced; which, however, is contrary to fact. for these reasons, i suspect, that there is, in the substance of the glass, either some little globules of air, or some portions of unvitrified sand or salt, into which a quantity of the electric fluid may be forced during the charge, and there retained till the general discharge: and that the force being suddenly withdrawn, the elasticity of the fluid acts upon the glass in which it is inclosed, not being able to escape hastily without breaking the glass. i offer this only as a conjecture, which i leave to others to examine. the globe which i had that could not be excited, though it was from the same glass-house which furnished the other excellent globes in my possession, was not of the same frit. the glass which was usually manufactured there, was rather of the green kind, and chiefly intended for drinking-glasses and bottles; but the proprietors being desirous of attempting a trial of white glass, the globe in question was of this frit. the glass not being of a perfect white, the proprietors were dissatisfied with it, and abandoned their project. i suspected that too great a quantity of salt was admitted into the composition; but i am no judge of these matters. b. franklin. to miss stephenson. _concerning the leyden bottle._ _london, march , ._ i must retract the charge of idleness in your studies, when i find you have gone through the doubly difficult task of reading so big a book, on an abstruse subject, and in a foreign language. in answer to your question concerning the leyden phial.--the hand that holds the bottle receives and conducts away the electric fluid that is driven out of the outside by the repulsive power of that which is forced into the inside of the bottle. as long as that power remains in the same situation, it must prevent the return of what it had expelled; though the hand would readily supply the quantity if it could be received. your affectionate friend, b. franklin. appendix. no. [ ]. _the early_ letters _of dr. franklin on electricity having been translated into french, and printed at paris; the abbé mazeas, in a letter to dr. stephen hales, dated st. germain, may , , gives the following account (printed in the philosophical transactions) of the experiment made at marly, in pursuance of that proposed by mr. franklin, pages , ._ sir, the philadelphian experiments, that mr. collinson, a member of the royal society, was so kind as to communicate to the public, having been universally admired in france, the king desired to see them performed. wherefore the duke d'ayen offered his majesty his country-house at st. germain, where m. de lor, master of experimental philosophy, should put those of philadelphia in execution. his majesty saw them with great satisfaction, and greatly applauded messieurs franklin and collinson. these applauses of his majesty having excited in messieurs de buffon, d'alibard, and de lor, a desire of verifying the conjectures of mr. franklin, upon the analogy of thunder and electricity, they prepared themselves for making the experiment. m. d'alibard chose for this purpose, a garden situated at marly, where he placed upon an electrical body a pointed bar of iron, of forty feet high. on the th of may, twenty minutes past two in the afternoon, a stormy cloud having passed over the place where the bar stood, those that were appointed to observe it, drew near, and attracted from it sparks of fire, perceiving the same kind of commotions as in the common electrical experiments. m. de lor, sensible of the good success of this experiment, resolved to repeat it at his house in the estrapade, at paris. he raised a bar of iron ninety-nine feet high, placed upon a cake of resin, two feet square, and three inches thick. on the th of may, between four and five in the afternoon, a stormy cloud having passed over the bar, where it remained half an hour, he drew sparks from the bar, like those from the gun barrel, when, in the electrical experiments, the globe is only rubbed by the cushion, and they produced the same noise, the same fire, and the same crackling. they drew the strongest sparks at the distance of nine lines, while the rain, mingled with a little hail, fell from the cloud, without either thunder or lightning; this cloud being, according to all appearance, only the consequence of a storm, which happened elsewhere. i am, with a profound respect, your most humble and obedient servant, g. mazeas. footnote: [ ] see the paragraph between brackets, page . _a more particular account of the circumstances and success of this extraordinary experiment was laid before the royal academy of sciences at paris, three days afterwards, in a memorial by m. d'alibard, viz._ extrait d'un memoire de m. d'alibard, _lû à l'académie royale des sciences, le mai, ._ "en suivant la route que m. franklin nous a tracée, j'ai obtenu une satisfaction complette. voici les préparatifs, le procédé & le succès. " º. j'ai fait faire à marly-la-ville, située à six lieues de paris au milieu d'une belle plaine dont le sol est fort élevé, une verge de fer ronde, d'environ un pouce de diametre, longue de pieds, & fort pointue par son extrémité supérieure; pour lui ménager une pointe plus fine, je l'ai fait armer d'acier trempé & ensuite brunir, au défaut de dorure, pour la préserver de la rouille; outre cela, cette verge de fer est courbée vers son extrémité inférieure en deux coudes à angles aigus quoiqu'arrondis; le premier coude est éloigné de deux pieds du bout inférieur, & le second est en sens contraire à trois pieds du premier. " º. j'ai fait planter dans un jardin trois grosses perches de à pieds, disposées en triangle, & éloignées les unes des autres d'environ huit pieds; deux de ces perches sont contre un mur, & la troisieme est au-dedans du jardin. pour les affermir toutes ensemble, l'on à cloué sur chacune des entretoises à vingt pieds de hauteur; & comme le grand vent agitoit encore cette espéce d'édifice, l'on a attaché au haut de chaque perche de longs cordages, qui tenant lieu d'aubans, répondent par le bas à de bons piquets fortement enfoncés en terre à plus de pieds des perches. " º. j'ai fait construire entres les deux perches voisines du mur, & adosser contre ce mur une petite guerite de bois capable de contenir un homme & une table. " º. j'ai fait placer au milieu de la guérite une petite table d'environ un demi-pied de hauteur; & sur cette table j'ai fait dresser & affermir un tabouret electrique. ce tabouret n'est autre chose qu'une petite planche quarrée, portée sur trois bouteilles à vin; il n'est fait de cette matiere que pour suppléer au defaut d'un gâteau de résine qui me manquoit. " º. tout étant ainsi préparé, j'ai fait elever perpendiculairement la verge de fer au milieu des trois perches, & je l'ai affermie en l'attachant à chacune des perches avec de forts cordons de soie par deux endroits seulement. les premiers liens sont au haut des perches, environ trois pouces au-dessous de leurs extrémités supérieures; les seconds vers la moitié de leur hauteur. le bout inférieur de la verge de fer est solidement appuyé sur le milieu du tabouret electrique, où j'ai fait creuser un trou propre à le recevoir. " º. comme il étoit important de garantir de la pluie te tabouret & les cordons de soie, parce qu'ils laisseroient passer la matiére électrique s'ils etoient mouillés, j'ai pris les précautions necessaires pour en empêcher. c'est dans cette vue que j'ai mis mon tabouret sous la guérite, & que j'avois fait courber ma verge de fer à angles aigus; afin que l'eau qui pourroit couler le long de cette verge, ne pût arriver jusques sur le tabouret. c'est aussi dans le même dessein que j'ai fait clouer sur le haut & au milieu de mes perches, à trois pouces au-dessus des cordons de soie, des especes de boîtes formées de trois petites planches d'environ pouces de long, qui couvrent par-dessus & par les côtes une pareille longueur des cordons de soie, sans leur toucher. "il s'agissoit de faire, dans le tems de l'orage, deux observations sur cette verge de fer ainsi disposée; l'une étoit de remarquer à sa pointe une aigrette lumineuse, semblable à celle que l'on apperçoit à la pointe d'une aiguille, quand on l'oppose assez près d'un corps actuellement électrisé; l'autre étoit de tirer de la verge de fer des étincelles, comme on en tire du canon de fusil dans les expériences électriques; & afin de se garantir des piqûres de ces étincelles, j'avois attaché le tenon d'un fil d'archal au cordon d'une longue fiole pour lui servir de manche.... "le mercredi mai , entre deux & trois heures après midi, le nommé coiffier, ancien dragon, que j'avois chargé de faire les observations en mon absence, ayant entendu un coup de tonnerre assez fort, vole aussitôt à la machine, prend la fiole avec le fil d'archal, présente le tenon du fil à la verge, en voit sortir une petite étincelle brillante, & en entend le pétillement; il tire une seconde étincelle plus fort que la premiere & avec plus de bruit! il appelle ses voisins, & envoie chercher m. le prieur. celui-ci accourt de toutes ses forces; les paroissiens voyant la précipitation de leur curé, s'imaginent que le pauvre coiffier a été tué du tonnerre; l'allarme se répand dans le village: la grêle qui survient n'empêche point le troupeau du suivre son pasteur. cet honnête ecclésiastique arrive près de la machine, & voyant qu'il n'y avoit point de danger, met lui-même la main â l'oeuvre & tire de fortes étincelles. la nuée d'orage & de grêle ne fut pas plus d'un quart-d'heure à passer au zénith de notre machine, & l'on n'entendit que ce seul coup de tonnerre. sitôt que le nuage fut passé, & qu'on ne tira plus d'étincelles de la verge de fer, m. le prieur de marly fit partir le sieur coiffier lui-même, pour m'apporter la lettre suivante, qu'il m'ecrivit à la hâte." _je vous annonce, monsieur, ce que veus attendez: l'expérience est complette. aujourd'hui à deux heures minutes après midi, le tonnerre a grondé directement sur marly; le coup a été assez fort. l'envie de vous obliger, & la curiosité m'ont tiré de mon fauteüil, où j'êtois occupé à lire: je suis allé chez coiffier, qui déja m'avoit dépêché un enfant que j'ai rencontré en chemin, pour me prier de veenir; j'ai doublé le pas à travers un torrent de grêle. arrivé à l'endroit où est placée la tringle coudée, j'ai présenté le fil d'archal, en evançant successivement vers la tringle, à un pouce & demi, ou environ; il est sorti de la tringle une petite colonne de fer bleuâtre sentant le soufre, qui venoit frapper avec une extrême vivacité le tenon du fil d'archal, & occasionnoit un bruit semblable à celui qu'on feroit en frappant sur la tringle avec une clef. j'ai répeté l'expérience au moins six fois dans l'espace d'environ quatre minutes, en présence de plusieurs personnes, & chaque expérience que j'ai faite a duré l'espace d'un pater & d'un_ ave. _j'ai voulu continuer; l'action du feu s'est ralentie peu à peu; j'ai approché plus près, & n'ai plus tiré que quelques étincelles, & enfin rien n'ai paru._ _le coup de tonnerre qui a occasionné cet événement, n'a été suivi d'aucun autre; tout s'est terminé par une abondance de grêle. j'étois si occupé dans le moment de l'expérience de ce que voyois, qu'ayant été frappé au bras un peu au-dessus du coude, je ne puis dire si c'est en touchant au fil d'archal ou à la tringle: je ne me suis pas plaint du mal que m'avoit fait le coup dans le moment que je l'ai reçu; mais comme la douleur continuoit, de retour chez moi, j'ai découvert mon bras en présence de coiffier, & nous avons apperçu une meurtrissure tournante autour du brass, semblable à celle que feroit un coup de fil d'archal, si j'en avois été frappé à nud. en revenant de chez coiffier, j'ai recontré m. le vicaire, m. de milly, et le maître d'école, à qui j'ai rapporté ce qui venoit d'arriver; ils se sont plaints tous les trois qu'ils sentoient une odeur de soufre qui les frappait davantage à mesure qu'ils s'approichient de moi: j'ai porté chez moi la même odeur, & mes domestiques s'en sont apperçus sans que je leur aye rien dit._ _voilà, monsieur, un récit fait à la hâte, mais naif & vrai que j'atteste, & vous pouvez assurer que je suis prêt à rendre témoignage de cet événement dans toutes les occasions. coiffier a été le premier qui a fait l'expérience & l'a répétée, plusieurs fois; ce n'est qu'à l'occasion de ce qu'il a vu qu'il m'a envoyé prier de venir. s'il étoit besoin d'autres témoins que de lui & de moi, vous les trouveriez. coiffier presse pour partir._ _je suis avec une respectueuse considération, monsieur, votre, &c. signé_ raulet, _prieur de marly. mai, ._ "on voit, par le détail de cette lettre, que le fait est assez bien constaté pour ne laisser aucun doute à ce sujet. le porteur m'a assuré de vive voix qu'il avoit tiré pendant près d'un quart-d'heure avant que m. le prieur arrivât, en présence de cinq ou six personnes, des étincelles plus fortes & plus bruyantes que celles dont il est parlé dans la lettre. ces premieres personnes arrivant successivement, n'osient approcher qu'à ou pas de la machine; & à cette distance, malgré le plein soleil, ils voyoient les étincelles & entendoient le bruit.... "il résulte de toutes les expériences & observations que j'ai rapportées dans ce mémoire, & surtout de la dernière expérience faite à marly-la-ville, que la matiere du tonnerre est incontestablement la même que celle de l'électricité. l'idée qu'en a eu m. franklin cesse d'être une conjecture: la voilà devenue une réalité, & j'ose croire que plus on approfondira tout ce qu'il a publié sur l'électricité, plus on reconnoîtra combien la physique lui est redevable pour cette partie." _letter of mr. w. watson, f. r. s. to the royal society, concerning the electrical experiments in england upon thunder-clouds._ read dec. . trans. vol. xlvii. gentlemen, after the communications, which we have received from several of our correspondents in different parts of the continent, acquainting us with the success of their experiments last summer, in endeavouring to extract the electricity from the atmosphere during a thunder-storm, in consequence of mr. franklin's hypothesis, it may be thought extraordinary, that no accounts have been yet laid before you, of our success here from the same experiments. that no want of attention, therefore, may be attributed to those here, who have been hitherto conversant in these enquiries, i thought proper to apprise you, that, though several members of the royal society, as well as myself, did, upon the first advices from france, prepare and set up the necessary apparatus for this purpose, we were defeated in our expectations, from the uncommon coolness and dampness of the air here, during the whole summer. we had only at london one thunder-storm; viz. on july ; and then the thunder was accompanied with rain; so that, by wetting the apparatus, the electricity was dissipated too soon to be perceived upon touching those parts of the apparatus, which served to conduct it. this, i say, in general prevented our verifying mr. franklin's hypothesis: but our worthy brother, mr. canton, was more fortunate. i take the liberty, therefore, of laying before you an extract of a letter, which i received from that gentleman, dated from spital-square, july , . "i had yesterday, about five in the afternoon, an opportunity of trying mr. franklin's experiment of extracting the electrical fire from the clouds; and succeeded, by means of a tin tube, between three and four feet in length, fixed to the top of a glass one, of about eighteen inches. to the upper end of the tin tube, which was not so high as a stack of chimnies on the same house, i fastened three needles with some wire; and to the lower end was soldered a tin cover to keep the rain from the glass tube, which was set upright in a block of wood. i attended this apparatus as soon after the thunder began as possible, but did not find it in the least electrified, till between the third and fourth clap; when, applying my knuckle to the edge of the cover, i felt and heard an electrical spark; and approaching it a second time, i received the spark at the distance of about half an inch, and saw it distinctly. this i repeated four or five times in the space of a minute, but the sparks grew weaker and weaker; and in less than two minutes the tin tube did not appear to be electrified at all. the rain continued during the thunder, but was considerably abated at the time of making the experiment." thus far mr. canton. mr. wilson likewise of the society, to whom we are much obliged for the trouble he has taken in these pursuits, had an opportunity of verifying mr. franklin's hypothesis. he informed me, by a letter from near chelmsford, in essex, dated august , , that, on that day about noon, he perceived several electrical snaps, during, or rather at the end of a thunder-storm, from no other apparatus than an iron curtain rod, one end of which he put into the neck of a glass phial, and held this phial in his hand. to the other end of the iron he fastened three needles with some silk. this phial, supporting the rod, he held in one hand, and drew snaps from the rod with a finger of his other. this experiment was not made upon any eminence, but in the garden of a gentleman, at whose house he then was. dr. bevis observed, at mr. cave's, at st. john's gate, nearly the same phenomena as mr. canton, of which an account has been already laid before the public. trifling as the effects here mentioned are, when compared with those which we have received from paris and berlin, they are the only ones, that the last summer here has produced; and as they were made by persons worthy of credit, they tend to establish the authenticity of those transmitted from our correspondents. i flatter myself, that this short account of these matters will not be disagreeable to you; and am, with the most profound respect, your most obedient, humble servant, w. watson. no. . _remarks on the abbé nollet's letters to benjamin franklin, esq. of philadelphia, on electricity: by mr. david colden, of new york._ _coldenham, in new york, dec. , ._ sir, in considering the abbé nollet's letters to mr. franklin, i am obliged to pass by all the experiments which are made with, or in, bottles hermetically sealed, or exhausted of air; because, not being able to repeat the experiments, i could not second any thing which occurs to me thereon, by experimental proof. wherefore, the first point wherein i can dare to give my opinion, is in the abbé's th letter, p. , where he undertakes to prove, that the electric matter passes from one surface to another through the entire thickness of the glass: he takes mr. franklin's experiment of the magical picture, and writes thus of it. "when you electrise a pane of glass coated on both sides with metal, it is evident that whatever is placed on the side opposite to that which receives the electricity from the conductor, receives also an evident electrical virtue." which mr. franklin says, is that equal quantity of electric matter, driven out of this side, by what is received from the conductor on the other side; and which will continue to give an electrical virtue to any thing in contact with it, till it is entirely discharged of its electrical fire. to which the abbé thus objects; "tell me (says he), i pray you, how much time is necessary for this pretended discharge? i can assure you, that after having maintained the electrisation for hours, this surface, which ought, as it seems to me, to be entirely discharged of its electrical matter, considering either the vast number of sparks that were drawn from it, or the time that this matter had been exposed to the action of the expulsive cause; this surface, i say, appeared rather better electrised thereby, and more proper to produce all the effects of an actual electric body." _p._ . the abbé does not tell us what those effects were, all the effects i could never observe, and those that are to be observed can easily be accounted for, by supposing that side to be entirely destitute of electric matter. the most sensible effect of a body charged with electricity is, that when you present your finger to it, a spark will issue from it to your finger: now when a phial, prepared for the leyden experiment, is hung to the gun-barrel or prime-conductor, and you turn the globe in order to charge it; as soon as the electric matter is excited, you can observe a spark to issue from the external surface of the phial to your finger, which, mr. franklin says, is the natural electric matter of the glass driven out by that received by the inner surface from the conductor. if it be only drawn out by sparks, a vast number of them may be drawn; but if you take hold of the external surface with your hand, the phial will soon receive all the electric matter it is capable of, and the outside will then be entirely destitute of its electric matter, and no spark can be drawn from it by the finger: here then is a want of that effect which all bodies, charged with electricity, have. some of the effects of an electric body, which i suppose the abbé has observed in the exterior surface of a charged phial, are that all light bodies are attracted by it. this is an effect which i have constantly observed, but do not think that it proceeds from an attractive quality in the exterior surface of the phial, but in those light bodies themselves, which seem to be attracted by the phial. it is a constant observation, that when one body has a greater charge of electric matter in it than another (that is in proportion to the quantity they will hold) this body will attract that which has less: now, i suppose, and it is a part of mr. franklin's system, that all those light bodies which appear to be attracted, have more electric matter in them than the external surface of the phial has, wherefore they endeavour to attract the phial to them, which is too heavy to be moved by the small degree of force they exert, and yet being greater than their own weight, moves them to the phial. the following experiment will help the imagination in conceiving this. suspend a cork ball, or a feather, by a silk thread, and electrise it; then bring this ball nigh to any fixed body, and it will appear to be attracted by that body, for it will fly to it: now, by the consent of electricians, the attractive cause is in the ball itself, and not in the fixed body to which it flies: this is a similar case with the apparent attraction of light bodies, to the external surface of a charged phial. the abbé says, _p._ , "that he can electrise a hundred men, standing on wax, if they hold hands, and if one of them touch one of these surfaces (the exterior) with the end of his finger:" this i know he can, while the phial is charging, but after the phial is charged i am as certain he cannot: that is, hang a phial, prepared for the leyden experiment, to the conductor, and let a man, standing on the floor, touch the coating with his finger, while the globe is turned, till the electric matter spews out of the hook of the phial, or some part of the conductor, which i take to be the certainest sign that the phial has received all the electric matter it can: after this appears, let the man, who before stood on the floor, step on a cake of wax, where he may stand for hours, and the globe all that time turned; and yet have no appearance of being electrised. after the electric matter was spewed out as above from the hook of the phial prepared for the leyden experiment, i hung another phial, in like manner prepared, to a hook fixed in the coating of the first, and held this other phial in my hand; now if there was any electric matter transmitted through the glass of the first phial, the second one would certainly receive and collect it; but having kept the phials in this situation for a considerable time, during which the globe was continually turned, i could not perceive that the second phial was in the least charged, for when i touched the hook with my finger, as in the leyden experiment, i did not feel the least commotion, nor perceive any spark to issue from the hook. i likewise made the following experiment: having charged two phials (prepared for the leyden experiment) through their hooks; two persons took each one of these phials in their hand; one held his phial by the coating, the other by the hook, which he could do by removing the communication from the bottom before he took hold of the hook. these persons placed themselves one on each side of me, while i stood on a cake of wax, and took hold of the hook of that phial which was held by its coating (upon which a spark issued, but the phial was not discharged, as i stood on wax) keeping hold of the hook, i touched the coating of the phial that was held by its hook with my other hand, upon which there was a large spark to be seen between my finger and the coating, and both phials were instantly discharged. if the abbé's opinion be right, that the exterior surface, communicating with the coating, is charged, as well as the interior, communicating with the hook; how can i, who stand on wax, discharge both these phials, when it is well known i could not discharge one of them singly? nay, suppose i have drawn the electric matter from both of them, what becomes of it? for i appear to have no additional quantity in me when the experiment is over, and i have not stirred off the wax: wherefore this experiment fully convinces me, that the exterior surface is not charged; and not only so, but that it wants as much electric matter as the inner has of excess: for by this supposition, which is a part of mr. franklin's system, the above experiment is easily accounted for, as follows: when i stand on wax, my body is not capable of receiving all the electric matter from the hook of one phial, which it is ready to give; neither can it give as much to the coating of the other phial as it is ready to take, when one is only applied to me: but when both are applied, the coating takes from me what the hook gives: thus i receive the fire from the first phial at b, the exterior surface of which is supplied from the hand at a: i give the fire to the second phial at c, whose interior surface is discharged by the hand at d. this discharge at d may be made evident by receiving that fire into the hook of a third phial, which is done thus: in place of taking the hook of the second phial in your hand, run the wire of a third phial, prepared as for the leyden experiment, through it, and hold this third phial in your hand, the second one hanging to it, by the ends of the hooks run through each other: when the experiment is performed, this third phial receives the fire at d, and will be charged. [illustration: (of the experiment above)] when this experiment is considered, i think, it must fully prove that the exterior surface of a charged phial wants electric matter, while the inner surface has an excess of it. one thing more worthy of notice in this experiment is, that i feel no commotion or shock in my arms, though so great a quantity of electric matter passes them instantaneously: i only feel a pricking in the ends of my fingers. this makes me think the abbé has mistook, when he says, that there is no difference between the shock felt in performing the leyden experiment, and the pricking felt on drawing simple sparks, except that of greater to less. in the last experiment, as much electric matter went through my arms, as would have given me a very sensible shock, had there been an immediate communication, by my arms, from the hook to the coating of the same phial; because when it was taken into a third phial, and that phial discharged singly through my arms, it gave me a sensible shock. if these experiments prove that the electric matter does not pass through the entire thickness of the glass, it is a necessary consequence that it must always come out where it entered. the next thing i meet with is in the abbé's fifth letter, _p._ , where he differs from mr. franklin, who thinks that the whole power of giving a shock is in the glass itself, and not in the non-electrics in contact with it. the experiments which mr. franklin gave to prove this opinion, in his _observations on the leyden bottle_, p. , convinced me that he was in the right; and what the abbé has asserted, in contradiction thereto, has not made me think otherwise. the abbé, perceiving, as i suppose, that the experiments, as mr. franklin had performed them, must prove his assertion, alters them without giving any reason for it, and makes them in a manner that proves nothing. why will he have the phial, into which the, water is to be decanted from a charged phial, held in a man's hand? if the power of giving a shock is in the water contained in the phial, it should remain there though decanted into another phial, since no non-electric body touched it to take that power off. the phial being placed on wax is no objection, for it cannot take the power from the water, if it had any, but it is a necessary means to try the fact; whereas, that phial's being charged when held in a man's hand, only proves that water will conduct the electric matter. the abbé owns, _p._ , that he had heard this remarked, but says, why is not a conductor of electricity an electric subject? this is not the question; mr. franklin never said that water was not an electric subject; he said, that the power of giving a shock was in the glass, and not in the water; and this, his experiments fully prove; so fully, that it may appear impertinent to offer any more: yet as i do not know that the following has been taken notice of by any body before, my inserting of it in this place may be excused. it is this: hang a phial, prepared for the leyden experiment, to the conductor, by its hook, and charge it, which done, remove the communication from the bottom of the phial. now the conductor shews evident signs of being electrised; for if a thread be tied round it, and its ends left about two inches long, they will extend themselves out like a pair of horns; but if you touch the conductor, a spark will issue from it, and the threads will fall, nor does the conductor shew the least sign of being electrised after this is done. i think that by this touch, i have taken out all the charge of electric matter that was in the conductor, the hook of the phial, and water or filings of iron contained in it; which is no more than we see all non-electric bodies will receive: yet the glass of the phial retains its power of giving a shock, as any one will find that pleases to try. this experiment fully evidences, that the water in the phial contains no more electric matter than it would do in an open bason, and has not any of that great quantity which produces the shock, and is only retained by the glass. if after the spark is drawn from the conductor, you touch the coating of the phial (which all this while is supposed to hang in the air, free from any non-electric body) the threads on the conductor will instantly start up, and shew that the conductor is electrised. it receives this electrisation from the inner surface of the phial, which, when the outer surface can receive what it wants from the hand applied to it, will give as much as the bodies in contact with it can receive, or if they be large enough, all that it has of excess. it is diverting to see how the threads will rise and fall by touching the coating and conductor of the phial alternately. may it not be that the difference between the charged side of the glass, and the outer or emptied side, being lessened by touching the hook or the conductor; the outer side can receive from the hand which touched it, and by its receiving, the inner side cannot retain so much; and for that reason so much as it cannot contain electrises the water, or filings and conductor: for it seems to be a rule, that the one side must be emptied in the same proportion that the other is filled: though this from experiment appears evident, yet it is still a mystery not to be accounted for. i am in many places of the abbé's book surprised to find that experiments have succeeded so differently at paris, from what they did with mr. franklin, and as i have always observed them to do. the abbé, in making experiments to find the difference between the two surfaces of a charged glass, will not have the phial placed on wax: for, says he, don't you know that being placed on a body originally electric, it quickly loses its virtue? i cannot imagine what should have made the abbé think so; it certainly is contradictory to the notions commonly received of electrics _per se_; and by experiment i find it entirely otherwise: for having several times left a charged phial, for that purpose, standing on wax for hours, i found it to retain as much of its charge as another that stood at the same time on a table. i left one standing on wax from ten o'clock at night till eight the next morning, when i found it to retain a sufficient quantity of its charge, to give me a sensible commotion in my arms, though the room in which the phial stood had been swept in that time, which must have raised much dust to facilitate the discharge of the phial. i find that a cork-ball suspended between two bottles, the one fully and the other but little charged, will not play between them, but is driven into a situation that makes a triangle with the hooks of the phials: though the abbé has asserted the contrary of this, p. , in order to account for the playing of a cork-ball between the wire thrust into the phial, and one that rises up from its coating. the phial which is least charged must have more electric matter given to it, in proportion to its bulk, than the cork-ball receives from the hook of the full phial. the abbé says, p. , "that a piece of metal leaf hung to a silk thread and electrised, will be repelled by the bottom of a charged phial held by its hook in the air:" this i find constantly otherwise, it is with me always first attracted and then repelled: it is necessary in charging the leaf to be careful, that it does not fly off to some non-electric body, and so discharge itself when you think it is charged; it is difficult to keep it from flying to your own wrist, or to some part of your body. the abbé, p. , says, "that it is not impossible, as mr. franklin says it is, to charge a phial while there is a communication formed between its coating and its hook." i have always found it impossible to charge such a phial so as to give a shock: indeed, if it hang on the conductor without a communication from it, you may draw a spark from it as you may from any body that hangs there, but this is very different from being charged in such a manner as to give a shock. the abbé, in order to account for the little quantity of electric matter that is to be found in the phial, says, "that it rather follows the metal than the glass, and that it is spewed out into the air from the coating of the phial." i wonder how it comes not to do so too, when it sifts through the glass, and charges the exterior surface, according to the abbé's system! the abbé's objections against mr. franklin's two last experiments, i think, have little weight in them: he seems, indeed, much at a loss what to say, wherefore he taxes mr. franklin with having concealed a material part of the experiment; a thing too mean for any gentleman to be charged with, who has not shown as great a partiality in relating experiments, as the abbé has done. end of volume the first. j. cundee, printer, ivy-lane. index. a. _accent_, or emphasis, wrong placing of, a fault in modern tunes, ii. . _accidents_ at sea, how to guard against, ii. . _adams_, mr. matthew, offers the use of his library to franklin, i. . _addison_, franklin an assiduous imitator of, in his youth, i. . _advice_ to youth in reading, ii. . to emigrants to america, iii. . to a crafty statesman, . to a young tradesman, . to a young married man, . to players at chess, . _Æpinus_, his hypothesis of magnetism, i. . _agriculture_ takes place of manufactures till a country is fully settled, iii. . the great business of america, . _air_, some of the properties of, ii. . its properties with respect to electricity, i. . properties of its particles, . ii. . its currents over the globe, i. . resists the electric fluid and confines it to bodies, . its effects in electrical experiments, . its elasticity not affected by electricity, . its friction against trees, , . has its share of electricity, . its electricity denser above than below, . in rooms, electrified positively and negatively, . attracts water, ii. . when saturated with water precipitates it, . dissolves water, and, when dry, oil, . why suffocating, when impregnated with oil or grease, _ibid._ supports water, , , . why less heated in the higher regions than near the earth's surface, . how it creates hurricanes, _ibid._ winds, . whirlwinds, . effects of heat upon, . its effects on the barometer, . condensed, supposed to form the centre of the earth, , . noxious, corrected by vegetation, . observations on the free use of, . rare, no bad conductor of sound, . fresh, beneficial effects of, in bed-rooms, iii. . _air-thermometer_, electrical, experiments with, i. . _albany_ plan of union, short account of, i. . its singular fate, . papers relating to, iii. . motives on which formed, . rejects partial unions, . its president and grand council, . election of members, . place of first meeting, . new election, _ibid._ proportion of members after three years, . meetings of the grand council and call, . allowance to members, . power of president and his duty, . treaties of peace and war, _ibid._ indian trade and purchases, . new settlements, . military establishments, . laws and taxes, , . issuing of money, . appointment of officers, . rejected in england, . _almanack._ _see poor richard._ _alphabet_, a new one proposed, ii. . examples of writing in it, . correspondence on its merits, . _amber_, electrical experiments on, i. . _america_, north, air of, drier than that of england and france, ii. . why marriages are more frequent there than in europe, . why labour will long continue dear there, _ibid._ argument against the union of the colonies of, under one government, . state of toleration there, . reflections on the scheme of imposing taxes on, without its consent, iii. . thoughts on the representation of, in the british parliament, . interest of great britain with regard to, . forts in the back settlements of, no security against france, . wars carried on there against the french, not merely in the cause of the colonies, . preference of the colonies of, to the west indian colonies, . great navigable rivers of, favourable to inland trade, . what commodities the inland parts of, are fitted to produce, . the productions of, do not interfere with those of britain, . union of the colonies of, in a revolt against britain, impossible but from grievous oppression, . reasons given for restraining paper-bills of credit there, . intended scheme of a bank there, described, . attempts of franklin for conciliation of britain with, . feeling of, as to britain, in may , . conciliation of britain with, hopeless, . account of the first campaign of the british forces against, . application of, to foreign courts, for aid in its independence, . credit of, with that of britain, in , compared, . true description of the interest and policy of, . information to those emigrating thither, . terms on which land may be obtained for new settlements there, . _americans_, their prejudices for whatever is english, i. . _anchor_, a swimming one proposed, ii. , . _ancients_, their experimental learning too often slighted, ii. . _anecdote_ of franklin's early spirit of enterprise, i. . of a swedish clergyman among the indians, iii. . of an indian who went to church, . _animal_ food, franklin's abstinence from, i. . return to, . humorous instance of abstinence from, . heat, whence it arises, ii. , . magnetism, detected and exposed, i. . _animalcules_, supposed to cause the luminous appearance of sea-water, ii. . _animals_, how to kill them by electricity, i. . _antifederalists_ of america, comparison of, to the ancient jews, iii. . _apprentices_ easier placed out in america than in europe, iii. . indentures of, how made in america, . _argumentation_, bad effects of, as a habit, i. . best method of, . _armies_, best means of supporting them, ii. . _armonica_, musical instrument so called, described, ii. . manner of playing on it, . _asbestos_, specimen of, sold by franklin to sir hans sloane, i. . letter relating to it, iii. . _astrology_, letter to the busy-body on, iii. . _atmosphere_ sometimes denser above than below, ii. . electrical, its properties, i. . _aurora borealis_ explained, i. . conjectures respecting, , ii. . query concerning, i. . b. _badoin_, mr. letters from, i. , . _ballads_, two, written by franklin in his youth, i. . _balls_ of fire in the air, remark concerning, ii. . _barometer_, how acted on by air, ii. . _barrels_ for gunpowder, new sort proposed, i. . _bass_, unnecessary in some tunes, ii. . _bathing_ relieves thirst, ii. . observations on, . _battery_, electrical, its construction, i. . _baxter_, mr. observations on his enquiry into the nature of the soul, ii. . _beccaria_, character of his book on electricity, i. . _beer_, not conducive to bodily strength, i. . _bells_, form in consecrating them at paris, i. . _belly-ache_, dry, lead a cause of, ii. . _bermuda_, little thunder there, i. . _bermudian_ sloops, advantages of their construction, ii. . _bernoulli_, mr. his plan for moving boats, ii. . _bevis_, dr. draws electricity from the clouds, i. . _bible_, anecdote of its concealment in the reign of mary, i. . travestied by dr. brown, . _bills_ of mortality, reasonings, formed on those for capital cities, not applicable to the country, ii. . _birth_, noble, no qualification in america, iii. . _bishops_, none in america, and why, ii. , . _black clothes_ heat more and dry sooner than white, ii. . not fit for hot climates, . _blacksmith_, trade of, hereditary in franklin's family, i. . _blindness_ occasioned both by lightning and electricity, i. . _boats_, difference of their sailing in shoal and deep water, ii. . management of, best understood by savages, . how rowed by the chinese, . methods of moving them by machinery, _ibid._ improvement of mr. bernoulli's plan for moving them, . proposal for a new mode of moving them, _ibid._ double, advantage of, , . one built by sir w. petty, _ibid._ _bodies_, electrified negatively, repel each other, ii. . effect of blunt, compared with pointed ones, i. , . _body_, human, specifically lighter than water, ii. . political and human, compared, iii. . _boerhaave_, his opinion of the propagation of heat, ii. . of steam from fermenting liquors, . _boiling_ water, experiments with, i. , , . pot, bottom of, why cold, . _bolton_, mr. experiment by, i. . _books_ read by franklin in his youth, i. , , , . _boston_, the birth-place of franklin, i. . why quitted by him in his youth, , its inhabitants decrease, ii. . preface to proceedings of the town meeting of, iii. . _boyle's_ lectures, effect of, on franklin, i. . _braddock_, general, defeat of, i. . _bradford_, printer at philadelphia, i. , . _brass_, hot, yields unwholesome steams, ii. _brientnal_, joseph, a member of the junto club, i. . _brimstone_, when fluid, will conduct electricity, i. . _bristol waters_, an alledged fact concerning, ii. . _britain_, incapacity of, to supply the colonies with manufactures, ii. . _british empire_, an union of several states, iii. . _brown_, dr. acquaintance of franklin's, i. . travestied the bible, . _bubbles_ on the surface of water, hypothesis respecting, ii. . _buchan_, earl of, letter to, on the price of land for new settlements in america, iii. . _buildings_, what kind safest from lightning, i. . _bullion_, causes of its variation in price, iii. . _bunyan's_ voyages, a book early read by franklin, i. , . _bur_, cause of, round a hole struck through pasteboard, i. . _burnet_, governor, his attention to franklin in his youth, i. . _busy-body_, essays under the title of, i. . iii. . c. _cabinet-work_, veneered in england, shrinks and flies in america, ii. . _cables_, why apt to part when weighing anchor in a swell, ii. . this defect of, remedied, . _cabot_, sebastian, his commission from henry vii., iii. . _calvinism_, franklin educated in the principles of, i. . _campaign_ in america, account of the first, iii. . _canals_, observations on their depth, ii. . _canada_, importance of, to england, i. . visited by franklin, . its extent, iii. . pamphlet on the importance of, . easily peopled without draining britain, . _cancers_, specific for, i. , . _candles_ lighted by electricity, i. . distance at which the flame of, may be seen, ii. . _cann_, silver, a singular experiment on, i. . _canoes_ of the american indians, their advantages, ii. . _canton_, mr. john, experiments by, i. , . draws electricity from the clouds, . _capitals_, their use in printing, ii. . _caribbees_, possession of, only a temporary benefit, iii. . _carolina_, south, see _lightning_. _cavendish_, lord charles, his electrical experiments, i. . _cayenne_ would be a great acquisition to britain, iii. . _centre_ of the earth, hypothesis concerning, ii. , . _cessions_ from an enemy, on what grounds may be demanded, iii. . _chapel_, nickname for a printing house, i. . _character_, remarks on the delineation of, iii. . _charcoal-fires_, hurtful, ii. . _charging_ and discharging, in electricity, explained, i. . a number of bottles at once, how done, _ibid._ _charters_ of the colonies could not be altered by parliament, iii. . _chess_, morals of, iii. . not an idle amusement, _ibid._ teaches various virtues, . advice to those who play, . too intense an application to, injurious, . _chimnies_, different kinds of, enumerated, ii. . inconvenience of the old-fashioned ones, . defect of more modern ones, . have not long been in use in england, . staffordshire, described, . have a draft of air up and down, . may be used for keeping provisions in summer, . may be of use to miners, . funnels to, what the best, , . method of contracting them, . smoky. see _smoky_. _china_, provision made there against famine, ii. . _chinese_ wisely divide the holds of their vessels by partitions, ii. . how they row their boats, . their method of warming ground floors, . improvement in this method suggested, . their method of making large paper, . _circle_, magical, account of, ii. , . _cities_, spring water gradually deteriorates in, i. . do not supply themselves with inhabitants, ii. . _clark_, dr. of boston, quoted, on the instigation of the american indians against the english, iii. , , . _clothes_, wet, may preserve from lightning, i. . will relieve thirst, ii. . do not give colds, _ibid._ imbibe heat according to their colour, . white, most suitable for hot climates, _ibid._ _clothing_ does not give, but preserves, warmth, ii. . _clouds_, at land and at sea, difference between, i. . formed at sea, how brought to rain on land, . driven against mountains, form springs and rivers, . passing different ways, accounted for, . electrical, attracted by trees, spires, &c. . manner in which they become electrised, , . are electrised sometimes negatively and sometimes positively, , , , . electricity drawn from them, at marly, . by mr. cauton, . by dr. bevis, , by mr. wilson, _ibid._ how supported in air, ii. . how formed, . whether winds are generated or can be confined in them, . have little more solidity than fogs, _ibid._ _club_, called the junto, instituted by franklin, i. . rules of, ii. , . questions discussed in, . _coal_, sea, letter on the nature of, ii. . _cold_, why seemingly greater in metals than in wood, ii. , . sensation of, how produced, . only the absence of heat, . produced by chemical mixtures, _ibid._ evaporation. see _evaporation_. _colden_, mr. his remarks on abbé nollet's letters, i. . meteorological observations, ii. . observations on water-spouts, . _colds_, causes of, ii. , . _coleman_, william, a member of the junto club, i. , . _colica pictorum_, caused by lead, ii. . _collins_, john, an early friend of franklin's, i. , , , , . _collinson_, mr. some account of, iii. . _colonial_ governments in america of three kinds, iii. . _colonies_, the settlement of, does not diminish national numbers, ii. . their prosperity beneficial to the mother country, iii. . are intitled to distinct governments, . american, preferable to the west indies, _ibid._ not dangerous to britain, . aids to government, how given by, , . originally governed by the crown, independent of parliament, . not settled at the expence of britain, . _colonists_ in america, double their number in years, iii. . from britain, their rights, . _colours._ see _clothes_. _comazants_, or corposants, are electrical appearances, i. . _commerce_, influence of, on the manners of a people, ii. . is best encouraged by being left free, . should not be prohibited in time of war, . by inland carriage, how supported, iii. . _common-sense_, by paine, franklin supposed to have contributed to, i. . _compass_, instances of its losing its virtue by lightning, i. . how to remedy the want of, at sea, ii. . _conductors_ of lightning, very common in america, i. . first suggestion of the utility of, . construction of, . particulars relating to, . of electricity, difference in the action of, , . which the most perfect, , . and non-conductors, other terms substituted for, _ibid._ of common fire, their properties and differences, ii. , . experiments on, ii. . _congress_, franklin appointed a delegate to, i. . proposed overture from, in , iii. . _consecration_ of bells in france, form of, i. . _conspirators_, electrical, meaning of the term, i. . _controversy_, benefit of, iii. . _conversation_, advantage of useful topics of, at dinner, i. . _cook_, captain, circular letter concerning, iii. . copy of the voyages of, presented to franklin, by the admiralty, . cookery, at sea, generally bad, ii. . _copper_, manner of covering houses with, ii. , , . _copper_ plate printing-press, the first in america, constructed by franklin, i. . _corn_, ill policy of laying restraints on the exportation of, ii. , . _countries_, distant and unprovided, a plan for benefiting, ii. . _creation_, conjectures as to, ii. . _credit_, that of america and britain in , compared, iii. . depends on payment of loans, . industry and frugality, . public spirit, . income and security, . prospects of future ability, _ibid._ prudence, . character for honesty, . is money to a tradesman, . _criminal_ laws, reflections on, ii. . _crooked_ direction of lightning explained, i. . _cutler_, circumstance that prevented franklin's being apprenticed to one, i. . _currents_ at sea, often not perceivable, ii. . _cyder_, the best quencher of thirst, ii. . d. _dalrymple_, mr. scheme of a voyage under his command to benefit remote regions, ii. . _damp_ air, why more chilling than dry air that is colder, ii. , . _dampier_, account of a water-spout by, ii. . references to his voyage, on the subject of water-spouts, . _dampness_ on walls, cause of, ii. . _day-light_, proposal to use it instead of candle-light, iii. . _deacon_, isaac, from an underling to a surveyor, becomes inspector- general of america, i. . prognosticates the future eminence in life of franklin, _ib._ _death_ of franklin, i. . letter from dr. price on, iii. . of relatives, reflections on, . _deism_, effects on franklin of books written against, i. . _deluge_, accounted for, ii. . _denham_, a quaker, a friend of franklin's, i. . extraordinary trait of honesty of, to his creditors, . franklin's engagement with, as a clerk, , . _denmark_, the people of, not subject to colds, ii. . _denny_, governor, remarks on his official conduct in pensylvania, iii. . _desaquiliers_, his experiment on the vapour of hot iron, ii. . _dew_, how produced, i. . _dialogue_, between franklin and the gout, iii. . _dickenson_, mr. his remarks on the views of england in framing laws over the colonies, iii. . remarks on his conduct, . on his protest, . _discontented_ dispositions satirized, iii. . _discontents_ in america before , causes of, iii. . _dissentions_ between england and america, letter on, iii. . _dissertation_, early one of franklin's, that he repented having written, i. . _disputation_, modesty in, recommended, i. . ii. . _disputes_ between franklin and his brother, to whom he was apprenticed, i. . _domien_, a traveller, short account of, i. . _drawling_, a defect in modern tunes, ii. . _dreams_, art of procuring pleasant ones, iii. . _dumas_, monsieur, letter to, on the aid wanted by america in her struggle for independence, iii. . _duna_ river, not to be confounded with the dwina, iii. , note. _dust_, how raised and carried up into the air, ii. . _duties_, moral, the knowledge of, more important than the knowledge of nature, ii. . _dutch_ iron stove, advantages and defects of, ii. . e. _early_ impressions, lasting effect of, on the mind, iii. . _earth_ will dissolve in air, ii. . dry, will not conduct electricity, i. . the, sometimes strikes lightning into the clouds, . grows no hotter under the summer sun, why, ii. . different strata of, . theory of, . _earthquakes_, general good arising from, ii. . how occasioned, , . _eaton_, in northamptonshire, residence of franklin's family, i. . _ebb_ and flood, explanation of the terms, ii. . _economical_ project, iii. . _edinburgh_, an ordinance there against the purchase of prize-goods, ii. . _education_ of women, controversy respecting, i. . _eel_, electrical, of surinam, i. , . _effluvia_ of drugs, &c. will not pass through glass, i. . _electrical_ air-thermometer described, i. , _et seq._ atmosphere, how produced, . how drawn off, . atmospheres repel each other, . repel electric matter in other bodies, _ib._ battery, its construction, . clouds, experiment regarding, . death, the easiest, . experiments, franklin's eager pursuit of, . made in france, . various, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . fire, not created by friction, but collected, . passes through water, . loves water and subsists in it, . diffused through all matter, visible on the surface of the sea, _ibid._ its properties and uses, , _et seq._ produces common fire, , , . has the same crooked direction as lightning, . fluid, its beneficial uses, . is strongly attracted by glass, . manner of its acting through glass hermetically sealed, . a certain quantity of, in all kinds of matter, . nature of its explosion, . chooses the best conductor, , . force, may be unboundedly increased, . horse-race, . jack for roasting, . kiss, its force increased, . kite, described, . machine; simple and portable one, described, . matter, its properties, , . party of pleasure, . phial, or leyden bottle, its phenomena explained, . shock, observations on, . effects of a strong one on the human body, , . spark, perforates a quire of paper, . wheel, its construction, . self-moving one, . _electricity_, summary of its progress, i. . positive and negative, discovered, . distinguished, . in a tourmalin, . does not affect the elasticity of the air, . its similarity to lightning, . its effects on paralysis, . of fogs in ireland, . supposed affinity between, and magnetism, . _electrics per se_ and non-electrics, difference between, i. , . _electrified_ bumpers described, i. . _electrisation_, what constitutes the state of, i. . various appearances of, . variety of, . _electrising_ one's self, manner of, i. . _elocution_, how best taught, ii. . _embassador_ from the united states to france, franklin appointed to the office of, i. . _emblematical_ design illustrative of the american troubles, iii. . _emigrants_ to america, advice to, iii. . _empire_, rules for reducing a great one, iii. . _england_, franklin's first arrival in, i. . second arrival in, as agent for the province of pensylvania, . third arrival in, as agent for the same province, . its air moister than that of america, ii. . decrease of population in, doubtful, . _english_, effect of the ancient manners of, ii. . language, innovations in, . _enterprises_, public, franklin's early disposition for, i. . _ephemera_, an emblem of human life, iii. . _epitaph_ on franklin's parents, i. . on himself, . _episcopalians_, conduct of the american legislature towards, ii. . _errors_ of franklin's early life, i. , , , , . _ether_, what, ii. . _evaporation_, cold produced by, i. , ii. , , . of rivers, effects of, . _examination_ of franklin before the house of commons, i. , iii. . before the privy council, . further particulars of, . _exchange_, rate of, between philadelphia and britain, iii. . _exercise_, should precede meals, iii. . _experiments_, to show the electrical effect of points, i. , . to prove the electrical state of the leyden phial, . of firing spirits by a spark sent through a river, . to show how thunder-storms produce rain, . on the clouds, proposed, . on drugs electrified, . on the elasticity of the air, . on the electric fluid, . by mr. kennersley, . on the electricity of the clouds, . for increasing electricity, . by mr. canton, . in pursuance of those of mr. canton, . on a silver cann, . on the velocity of the electric fluid, , , . for producing cold by evaporation, . on the different effects of electricity, . by lord charles cavendish, . on the tourmalin, . to show the utility of long pointed rods to houses, . on amber, _et seq._ on the leyden phial, . on different coloured cloths, ii. , . on the sailing of boats, . _exportation_ of gold and silver, observations on, ii. . _exports_ to north america and the west indies, iii. , . to pensylvania, , . from ditto, . _eye_, retains the images of luminous objects, ii. . f. _facts_, should be ascertained before we attempt to account for them, ii. . _family_ of franklin, account of, i. . _et seq._ _famine_, how provided against in china, ii. . _fanning_, how it cools, ii. . _farmers_, remonstrance in behalf of, ii. . _federal_ constitution, speech on, iii. . _felons_, transportation of, to america, highly disagreeable to the inhabitants, iii. . _fermenting_ liquors, their steam deleterious, ii. . fire, not destroyed by water, but dispersed, i. . makes air specifically lighter, . exists in all bodies, . common and electrical, exist together, _ibid._ a region of, above our atmosphere, , ii. . many ways of kindling it, i. . exists in a solid or quiescent state in substances, _ibid._ ii. , . recovers its fluidity by combustion, _ibid._ is a fluid permeating all bodies, . conductors of, are also best conductors of the electric fluid, _ibid._ difference between, and electrical conductors, . how diffused through substances, . how generated in animated bodies, . theory of, . a fixed and permanent quantity of, in the universe, . its properties, . electrical, see _electrical_. _fire-companies_, numerous at philadelphia, i. . _fire-places_, pensylvanian, account of, ii. . large and open, inconvenient, . hollow backed, by gauger, . staffordshire, . an ingenious one for serving two rooms, . _fires_, at sea, how often produced, ii. . great and bright, damage the eyes and skin, . _fisheries_, value of those of newfoundland, iii. . _flame_, preserves bodies from being consumed while surrounding them, ii. , . _flaxseed_, amount of the exportation of from america to ireland, iii. . _flesh_, of animals, made tender by lightning and by electricity, i. , . _flies_, drowned in america, brought to life in england, ii. . _flood_ and ebb, explanation of the terms, ii. . _florence_ flask, when filled with boiling water, not chargeable with electricity, i. , . _fog_, great, in , ii. . conjectures as to its cause, _ibid._ _fogs_, how supported in air, ii. . electricity of, in ireland, i. . _folger_, family-name of franklin's mother, i. . _foreigners_, the importation of, not necessary to fill up occasional vacancies in population, ii. . _forts_ in the back settlements, not approved of, iii. . _foster_, judge, notes on his argument for the impress of seamen, ii. . _foundering_ at sea, accidents that occasion it, ii. , . _fountain_, when electrified, its stream separates, i. . _fowls_, improperly treated at sea, ii. . _fragments_, political, ii. . _france_, its air moister than that of america, ii. . effects of its military manners, . _franklin_, derivation of the name, i. . genealogy of the family of, . _franks_, the improper use of, reprobated, ii. . _freezing_ to death in summer, possibility of, ii. . _french_ language, its general use, ii. . _frontiers_, in america, the attack of, the common cause of the state, iii. . _frugality_, advantages of, ii. . observance of, in america, iii. _fruit-walls_, blacking them recommended, ii. . _fuel_, scarce in philadelphia, ii. . _fulling-mills_ in america, iii. . _fusion_, cold, of metals, supposed, i. . proves a mistake, . error respecting it acknowledged, . g. _galloway_, mr, preface to his speech, iii. . _garnish-money_, practice among printers of demanding it, i. . _gauger_, m. his invention for fire-places, ii. . _genealogy_ of the franklin family, i. . _german_ stoves, advantages and disadvantages of, ii. . _germany_, why the several states of, encourage foreign manufactures in preference to those of each other, iii. . note. _gilding_, its properties as a conductor, i. . the effects of lightning and of electricity on, . fails as a conductor after a few shocks, . _glass_, has always the same quantity of electrical fire, i. . possesses the whole power of giving a shock, , . in panes, when first used in an electrical experiment, , . great force in small portions of, . impermeable to the electric fluid, , . strongly attracts the electric fluid, . cannot be electrified negatively, _ibid._ its opposite surfaces, how affected, _ibid._ its component parts and pores extremely fine, . manner of its operation in producing electricity, _ibid._ its elasticity, to what owing, . thick, resists a change of the quantity of electricity of its different sides, . rod of, will not conduct a shock, _ibid._ when fluid, or red hot, will conduct electricity, . difference in its qualities, . error as to its pores, . will admit the electric fluid, when moderately heated, , . when cold retains the electric fluid, . experiments on warm and cold, . singular tube and ball of, . _glasses_, musical, described, ii. , _et seq._ _god_, saying in america respecting, iii. . _godfrey_, thomas, a lodger with franklin, i. . a member of the junto, . inventor of hadley's quadrant, _ibid._ wishes franklin to marry a relation of his, . _gold_ and silver, remarks on exportation of, ii. . _golden_ fish, an electrical device, i. . _government_, free, only destroyed by corruption of manners, ii. . _gout_, dialogue with that disease, iii. . _grace_, robert, member of the junto club, i. , . _gratitude_ of america, letter on, iii. . _greasing_ the bottoms of ships, gives them more swiftness, ii. . _greece_, causes of its superiority over persia, ii. . _greek_ empire, the destruction of, dispersed manufacturers over europe, iii. . _green_ and red, relation between the colours of, ii. . _greenlanders_, their boats best for rowing, ii. . _guadaloupe_, its value to britain over-rated, iii. . _gulph-stream_, observations on, ii. . whalers frequent its edges, _ibid._ long unknown to any but the american fishermen, _ibid._ how generated, . its properties, _ibid._ tornadoes and water-spouts attending it, accounted for, . how to avoid it, . nantucket whalers best acquainted with it, . thermometrical observations on, . journal of a voyage across, _ibid._ _gunpowder_, fired by electricity, i. . magazines of, how to secure them from lightning, . proposal for keeping it dry, . h. _habits_, effects of, on population, ii. . . _hadley's_ quadrant, by whom invented, i. , . _hail_, brings down electrical fire, i. . how formed, ii. . _hamilton_, mr. a friend of franklin's, i. , . _handel_, criticism on one of his compositions, ii. . _harmony_, in music, what, ii. . _harp_, effect of, on the ancient scotch tunes, ii. . _harry_, david, companion of franklin's, i. , . _hats_, summer, should be white, ii. . the manufacture of, in new england, in , iii. . _health_ of seamen, captain cook's method of preserving it recommended, ii. . _heat_, produced by electricity and by lightning, i. , . better conducted by some substances than others, ii. , . how propagated, . the pain it occasions, how produced, . in animals, how generated, , . in fermentation, the same as that of the human body, . great, at philadelphia, in , . general theory of, . _herrings_, shoals of, perceived by the smoothness of the sea, ii. . _hints_ to those that would be rich, iii. . _holmes_, robert, brother-in-law to franklin, i. , . _honesty_, often a very partial principle of conduct, ii. . _honours_, all descending ones absurd, iii. . _hopkins_, governor, his report of the number of inhabitants in rhode island, iii. . _horse-race_, electrical, i. . _hospital_, one founded by the exertions of franklin, i. . _hospitals_, foundling, state of in england and france, iii. *, *. _hospitality_, a virtue of barbarians, iii. . _houses_, remarks on covering them with copper, ii. , . many in russia covered with iron plates, . their construction in paris renders them little liable to fires, . _howe_, lord, letter from, to franklin, iii. . franklin's answer to, . _hudson's_ river, winds there, ii. , . _hunters_, require much land to subsist on, ii. . _hurricanes_, how produced, ii. . why cold in hot climates, _ibid._ _hutchinson_, governor, cause of the application for his removal, iii. . account of the letters of, , . _hygrometer_, best substances for forming one, ii. . mahogany recommended for forming one, . i. j. _jackson_, mr. remarks on population by, ii. . _jamaica_, its vacant lands not easily made sugar lands, iii. . _javelle_, his machinery for moving boats, ii. . _ice_ will not conduct an electric shock, i. . _ice-islands_, dangerous to shipping, ii. . _idleness_, the heaviest tax on mankind, ii. , iii. . encouraged by charity, ii. . reflections on, iii. . _jefferson_, mr. letter from, on the character of franklin, iii. . _jesuits_, hostility of the indians in america excited by, iii. . _ignorance_, a frank acknowledgment of, commendable, i. . _imports_ into pensylvania from britain before , iii. . _impress_ of seamen, notes on judge foster's argument in favour of, ii. . _inarticulation_ in modern singing, censured, ii. . _increase_ of mankind, observations on, ii. , and _seq._ what prevented by, , . how promoted, , . further observations on, . _indemnification_, just ground for requiring cessions from an enemy, iii. . _independence_, soon acquired in america, iii. . _indian trade_ and affairs, remarks on a plan for the future management of, iii. . spirituous liquors the great encouragement of, . the debts from, must be left to honour, . not an american but a british interest, . _indians_, of north america, a number of, murdered, i. . often excited by the french against the english, iii. . list of fighting men in the different nations of, . difference of their warfare from that of europeans, . remarks concerning, . their mode of life, . public councils, . politeness in conversation, . rules in visiting, . _industry_, effects of franklin's, i. . the cause of plenty, ii. . essential to the welfare of a people, . relaxed by cheapness of provisions, . a greater portion of, in every nation, than of idleness, , , iii. . its prevalence in america, iii. . _inflammability_ of the surface of rivers, ii. . _inland_ commerce, instances of, iii. . _innovations_ in language and printing, ii. . _inoculation_, letter on the deaths occasioned by, ii. . success of, in philadelphia, , . _insects_, utility of the study of, ii. . _interrogation_, the mark of, how to be placed, ii. . _invention_, the faculty of, its inconveniences, i. . _inventions_, new, generally scouted, _ibid._ _journal_ of a voyage, crossing the gulph-stream, ii. . from philadelphia to france, , . from the channel to america, , _et seq._ _iron_ contained in the globe, renders it a great magnet, ii. . query whether it existed at the creation, . hot, gives no bad smell, . yields no bad vapours, . rods, erected for experiments on the clouds, i. . conduct more lightning in proportion to their thickness, . _islands_ far from a continent have little thunder, i. . _italic_ types, use of, in printing, ii. . _judges_, mode of their appointment in america, in , iii. . _junto._ see _club_. k. _keimer_, a connection of franklin's, some account of, i. , , . _keith_, sir william, franklin patronized by, i. . deceived by, . character of, . _kinnersley_, mr. electrical experiments by, i. , _et seq._, . _kiss_, electrical, i. . _kite_ used to draw electricity from the clouds, i. . electrical, described, i. . _knobs_, not so proper as points, for conducting lightning, i. . l. _labour_, why it will long continue dear in america, ii. . its advantages, , . _land_, terms on which it may be obtained in america, by settlers, iii. . _landing_ in a surf, supposed practicable, how, ii. . tried without success, . _language_, remarks on innovations in, ii. , _et seq._ _laughers_, satyrized, iii. . _law_, the old courts of, in the colonies, as ample in their powers, as those in england, iii. . _law-expenses_, no discouragement to law-suits, iii. . _law-stamps_, a tax on the poor, iii. . _lead_, effects of, on the human constitution, ii. . _leaks_ in ships, why water enters by them most rapidly at first, ii. . means to prevent their being fatal, . _leather_ globe, proposed, instead of glass, for electrical experiments, i. . _left_ hand, a petition from, iii. . _leg_, handsome and deformed, humourous anecdote of, iii. . _legal_ tender of paper-money, its advantages, iii. . further remarks on, . _lending_ money, new mode of, iii. . _letter-founding_ effected by franklin in america, i. . _leutmann_, j. g. extract from his vulcanus famulans, ii. . _leyden_ bottle, its phenomena explained, i. . analysed, . experiment to prove its qualities, . when sealed hermetically, retains long its electricity, . _liberty_ of the press, observations on, ii. . abused, . of the cudgel, should be allowed in return, . _libraries_, public, the first in america set on foot by franklin, i. . are now numerous in america, . advantages of, to liberty, . _life_ and death, observations on the doctrines of, ii. . _light_, difference between that from the sun and that from a fire in electrical experiments, i. . difficulties in the doctrines of, i. . queries concerning, _ibid._ visibility of its infinitely small particles computed, ii. . new theory of, . _lighthouse-tragedy_, an early poem of franklin's, i. . _lightning_, represented by electricity, i. . drawn from the clouds, by a kite, . by an iron rod, _ibid._ reasons for proposing the experiment on, . its effects at newbury, . will leave other substances, to pass through metals, . communicates magnetism to iron, . objections to the hypothesis of its being collected from the sea, , . effects of, on a wire at new york, . on mr. west's pointed rod, , _et seq._ how it shivers trees, . effects of, on conductors in carolina, , , . does not enter through openings, . should be distinguished from its light, . an explosion always accompanies it, _ibid._ observations on its effects on st. bride's church, , . how to preserve buildings from, . personal danger from, how best avoided, . brought down by a pointed rod, in a large quantity, . how to prevent a stroke of, at sea, ii. . _linnæus_, instance of public benefit arising from his knowledge of insects, ii. . _london_, atmosphere of, moister than that of the country, ii. . _loyalty_ of america before the troubles, iii. . _luxury_, beneficial when not too common, ii. . definition of, , . extinguishes families, . not to be extirpated by laws, . further observations on, . _lying-to_, the only mode yet used for stopping a vessel at sea, ii. . m. _maddeson_, mr. death of, lamented, iii. *. _magazine_ of powder, how to secure it from lightning, i. . _magical_ circle of circles, ii. . picture, i. . square of squares, ii. . _magnetism_, animal, detected and exposed, i. . given by electricity, , . and electricity, affinity between, . supposed to exist in all space, ii. , . conjectures as to its effects on the globe, . enquiry how it first came to exist, . _mahogany_, expands and shrinks, according to climate, ii. . recommended for an hygrometer, . _mandeville_, franklin's acquaintance with, i. . _manners_, effects of, on population, ii. , _et seq._ letter to the busy-body on the want of, iii. . _manufactures_, produce greater proportionate returns than raw materials, ii. . founded in the want of land for the poor, iii. . are with difficulty transplanted from one country to another, . hardly ever lost but by foreign conquest, . probability of their establishment in america, . want no encouragement from the government, if a country be ripe for them, . _maritime_ observations, ii. . _marly_, experiments made at, for drawing lightning from the clouds, i. . _marriage_ of franklin, i. . _marriages_, where the greatest number take place, ii. . why frequent and early in america, . iii. , . early, letter on, iii. . _maryland_, account of a whirlwind there, ii. . of paper bills formerly issued there, iii. . its conduct in a french war, previous to the american troubles, defended, . _massachusets_ bay, petition of the inhabitants of, to the king, iii. . _matter_, enquiry into the supposed vis inertiæ of, ii. . man can neither create nor annihilate it, . _mawgridge_, william, member of the junto club, i. . _maxims_, prudential, from poor richard's almanack, iii. . _mazeas_, abbe, letter from, i. . _meal_, grain, &c. manner of preserving them good for ages, i. . ii. . _mechanics_, advantages of an early attention to, i. . _mediocrity_, prevalence of, in america, iii. . _melody_ in music, what, ii. . _men_, six, struck down by an electric shock, i. . _mercer_, dr. letter from, on a water-spout, ii. . _merchants_ and shopkeepers in america, iii. . _meredith_, hugh, companion of franklin, short account of, i. , , . _metalline_ rods, secure buildings from lightning, i. . either prevent or conduct a stroke, . _metals_, melted by electricity and by lightning, i. , . when melted by electricity, stain glass, . polished, spotted by electrical sparks, . feel colder than wood, why, ii. . _meteorological_ observations, ii. , , . _methusalem_ slept always in the open air, iii. . _mickle_, samuel, a prognosticator of evil, i. . _military_ manners, effects of, ii. , . power of the king, remarks on, iii. . _militia_ bill, franklin the author of one, i. . particular one, rejected by the governor of pensylvania, . iii. . _mines_, method of changing air in them, ii. . of rock salt, conjectures as to their formation, . _mists_, how supported in air, ii. . _modesty_ in disputation recommended, ii. . _money_, how to make it plenty, iii. . new mode of lending, . _moral_ principles, state of franklin's mind respecting, on his entering into business, i. . _morals_ of chess, iii. . _motion_, the communication and effects of, ii. , . of vessels at sea, how to be stopped, . _mountains_, use of, in producing rain and rivers, i. . why the summits of, are cold, ii. . conjecture how they became so high, . _music_, harmony and melody of the old scotish, ii. . modern, defects of, . _musical_ glasses described, ii. . n. _nantucket_ whalers best acquainted with the gulph-stream, ii. . _national_ wealth, data for reasoning on, ii. . three ways of acquiring, . _navigation_, difference of, in shoal and deep water, ii. . observations on, , . from newfoundland to new york, . inland, in america, iii. . _needle_ of a compass, its polarity reversed by lightning, i. , . of wood, circular motion of, by electricity, , . _needles_, magnetised by electricity, i. . and pins, melted by electricity, . _negatively_ electrised bodies repel each other, i. . _negroes_ bear heat better, and cold worse, than whites, ii. . _newbury_, effects of a stroke of lightning there, i. . _new-england_, former flourishing state of, from the issue of paper money, iii. . circumstances which rendered the restriction of paper money there not injurious, . abolition of paper currency there, . _newfoundland_ fisheries, more valuable than the mines of peru, iii. . _newspaper_, one sufficient for all america, in , i. . instance of one set up by franklin at philadelphia, . _new-york_, effects of lightning there, i. . former flourishing state of, from the issue of paper-money, iii. . sentiments of the colonists on the act for abolishing the legislature of, . obtained in exchange for surinam, . _nollet_, abbé, franklin's theory of electricity opposed by, i. . remarks on his letters, . _non-conductors_ of electricity, i. . _non-electric_, its property in receiving or giving electrical fire, i. . _north-east_ storms in america, account of, ii. . _nurses_, office at paris for examining the health of, iii. *. o. _oak_ best for flooring and stair-cases, ii. . _ohio_, distance of its fort from the sea, iii. , note. _oil_, effect of heat on, ii. . evaporates only in dry air, _ibid._ renders air unfit to take up water, _ibid._ curious instance of its effects on water in a lamp, . stilling of waves by means of, , , , , , . _old_ man's wish, song so called quoted, iii. *. _onslow_, arthur, dedication of a work to, by franklin, iii. . _opinions_, vulgar ones too much slighted, ii. . regard to established ones, thought wisdom in a government, iii. . _orthography_, a new mode of, ii. . _osborne_, a friend of franklin's, i. , _oversetting_ at sea, how it occurs, ii. . how to be prevented, _ibid._, . _outriggers_ to boats, advantages of, ii. . p. _packthread_, though wet, not a good conductor, i. . _paine's_ common sense, franklin supposed to have contributed to, i. . _paper_, how to make large sheets, in the chinese way, ii. . a poem, iii. . _paper-credit_, cannot be circumscribed by law, ii. . _paper-money_, pamphlet written by franklin on, i. . american, remarks and facts relative to, iii. . advantages of, over gold and silver, iii. . _papers_ on philosophical subjects, i. , _et seq._ ii. , _et seq._ on general politics, ii. , _et seq._ on american subjects, before the revolution, iii. , _et seq._ during the revolution, iii. , _et seq._ subsequent to the revolution, iii. , _et seq._ on moral subjects, iii. , _et seq._ _parable_ against persecution, ii. . _paradoxes_ inferred from some experiments, i. . _paralysis_, effects of electricity on, i. . _parliament_ of england, opinions in america, in , concerning, iii. . _parsons_, william, member of the junto club, i. . _parties_, their use in republics, iii. . _party_ of pleasure, electrical, i. . _passages_ to and from america, how to be shortened, ii. . why shorter from, than to, america, . _passengers_ by sea, instructions to, ii. . _patriotism_, spirit of, catching, iii. . _peace_, the victorious party may insist on adequate securities in the terms of, iii. . _penn_, governor, remarks on his administration, iii. . sold his legislative right in pensylvania, but did not complete the bargain, . _pensylvania_, franklin appointed clerk to the general assembly of, i. . forms a plan of association for the defence of, . becomes a member of the general assembly of, . aggrievances of, iii. . infraction of its charter, . review of the constitution of, . former flourishing state of, from the issue of paper-money, . rate of exchange there, . letter on the militia bill of, . settled by english and germans, . english and german, its provincial languages, _ib._ pecuniary bargains between the governors and assembly of, . taxes there, , . number of its inhabitants, . proportion of quakers, and of germans, _ibid._ exports and imports, . assembly of, in , how composed, . _pensylvanian_ fire-places, account of, ii. . particularly described, . effects of, . manner of using them, . advantages of, . objections to, answered, . directions to bricklayers respecting, . _peopling_ of countries, observations on, ii. , _et seq._ _perkins_, dr. letter from, on water-spouts, ii. . on shooting stars, . _persecution_, parable against, ii. . of dissenters, letter on, . of quakers in new england, . _perspirable_ matter, pernicious, if retained, ii. . _perspiration_, necessary to be kept up, in hot climates, ii. . difference of, in persons when naked and clothed, . _petition_ from the colonists of massachusets bay, iii. . of the left hand, . _petty_, sir william, a double vessel built by, ii. . _philadelphia_, franklin's first arrival at, i. . account of a seminary there, instituted by franklin, to . state of the public bank at, iii. *. _phytolacca_, or poke weed, a specific for cancers, i. . _picture_, magical, described, i. . _plain_ truth, franklin's first political pamphlet, iii. . _plan_ for benefiting distant countries, ii. . for settling two western colonies, iii. . for the management of indian affairs, remarks on, . for improving the condition of the free blacks, . _planking_ of ships, improvement in, ii. . _pleurisy_, franklin attacked by, i. , . _plus_ and minus electricity, in the leyden bottle, i. . in other bodies, . _pointed_ rods, secure buildings from lightning, i. , . experiments and observations on, . objections to, answered, , . _points_, their effects, i. . property of, explained, . experiment showing the effect of, on the clouds, . mistake respecting, . _poke-weed_, a cure for cancers, i. , . _polarity_ given to needles by electricity, i. . _poles_ of the earth, if changed, would produce a deluge, ii. . _political_ fragments, ii. . _polypus_, a nation compared to, ii. . _poor_, remarks on the management of, ii. . the better provided for, the more idle, . _poor_ richard, maxims of, iii. . _pope_, criticism on two of his lines, i. . _population_, observations on, ii. . causes which diminish it, . occasional vacancies in, soon filled by natural generation, . rate of its increase in america, . iii. , , . why it increases faster there, than in england, iii. . _positions_ concerning national wealth, ii. . _positiveness_, impropriety of, ii. . _postage_, not a tax, but payment for a service, iii. . state of, in america, in , . _post-master_, and deputy post-master general, franklin appointed to the offices of, i. , . _potts_, stephen, a companion of franklin's, i. , . _poultry_, not good at sea, ii. . _powder-magazines_, how secured from lightning, i. . _power_ to move a heavy body, how to be augmented, ii. . _pownall_, governor, memorial of, to the duke of cumberland, iii. . letter from, on an equal communication of rights to america, . constitution of the colonies by, . _preface_ to mr. galloway's speech, iii. . to proceedings of the inhabitants of boston, . _presbyterianism_, established religion in new england, ii. . _press_, account of the court of, ii. . liberty of, abused, . _pressing_ of seamen, animadversions on, ii. . _price_, dr. letter from, on franklin's death, iii. . _priestley_, dr. letter from, on franklin's character, iii. . _printers_ at philadelphia before franklin, i. . _printing_, franklin apprenticed to the business of, i. . works at it as a journeymen in england, , . in america, , . enters on the business of, as master, . observations on fashions in, ii. . _prison_, society for relieving the misery of, i. . not known among the indians of america, iii. . _privateering_, reprobated, ii. . further observations on, . article to prevent it, recommended in national treaties, . inserted in a treaty between america and prussia, . _proas_, of the pacific ocean, safety of, ii. . flying, superior to any of our sailing boats, . _produce_ of the inland parts of america, iii. . _products_ of america, do not interfere with those of britain, iii. . _prose-writing_, method of acquiring excellence in, i. . _protest_ against franklin's appointment as colonial agent, remarks on, iii. . _provisions_, cheapness of, encourages idleness, ii. . _prussian_ edict, assuming claims over britain, iii. . _public_ services and functions of franklin, i. . spirit, manifest in england, iii. . different opinion respecting it expressed, . _punctuality_ of america in the payment of public debts, iii. . _puckridge_, mr. inventor of musical glasses, i. . q. _quaker-lady_, good advice of one to franklin in his youth, i. . _quakers_, persecution of, in new england, ii. . proportion of, in pensylvania, iii. . _quebec_, remarks on the enlargement of the province of, iii. , note. _queries_ concerning light, i. . proposed at the junto club, ii. . from mr. strahan, on the american disputes, iii. . _questions_ discussed by the junto club, ii. . r. _rain_, how produced, i. . generally brings down electricity, . why never salt, ii. . different quantities of, falling at different heights, . _ralph_, james, a friend of franklin's, i. , , , , . _rarefaction_ of the air, why greater in the upper regions, ii. . _read_, maiden name of franklin's wife, i. , , , , , , . _reading_, franklin's early passion for, i. , . how best taught, ii. . advice to youth respecting, . _recluse_, a roman catholic one, in london, i. . _red_ and green, relation between the colours of, ii. . _regimen_, sudden alterations of, not prejudicial, i. . _religious_ sect, new one, intended establishment of, i. . _repellency_, electrical, how destroyed, i. . _representation_, american, in the british parliament, thoughts on, iii. , . _repulsion_, electrical, the doctrine of, doubted, i. . considerations in support of, . _revelation_, doubted by franklin in his youth, i. . _rhode-island_, purchased for a pair of spectacles, iii. . its population at three periods, iii. . _rich_, hints to those that would be, iii. . _ridicule_, delight of the prince of condé in, iii. . _rivers_, from the andes, how formed, i. . motion of the tides in, explained, ii. , . do not run into the sea, . evaporate before they reach the sea, . inflammability of the surface of, . _rods_, utility of long pointed ones, to secure buildings from lightning, i. . see farther. _iron._ _lightning._ _metalline._ _rome_, causes of its decline enquired into, ii. . political government of its provinces, iii. . _rooms_, warm, advantages of, ii. . do not give colds, ibid. _roots_, edible, might be dried and preserved for sea-store, ii. . _rosin_, when fluid, will conduct electricity, i. . _rousseau_, his opinion of tunes in parts, ii. . _rowing_ of boats, chinese method of, ii. . _rowley_, dr. franklin's obligations to, iii. *. s. _sailing_, observations on, ii. . _sails_, proposed improvements in, ii. , . _saint_ bride's church, stroke of lightning on, i. . _salt_, dry, will not conduct electricity, i. . rock, conjectures as to its origin, ii. . _saltness_ of the sea-water considered, _ib._ _savage_, john, a companion of franklin's, i. . _savages_ of north america, remarks on, iii. , _et seq._ _school_, sketch of one, for philadelphia, ii. . _scotch_ tunes, harmony of, and melody, ii. . _screaming_, a defect in modern tunes, ii. . _scull_, nicholas, member of the junto club, i. . _sea_, electrical qualities of its component parts, i. . opinion, that it is the source of lightning, considered, , , . supposed cause of its luminous appearance, ii. . from what cause, salt, . has formerly covered the mountains, _ib._ _sea-coal_, has a vegetable origin, ii. . prejudices against the use of, at paris, . _sea-water_, soon loses its luminous quality, i. . considerations on the distillation of, ii. . how to quench thirst with, . thermometrical observation on, , _et seq._ _security_, a just ground to demand cessions from an enemy, iii. . _separation_ of the colonies from britain, probability of, in , iii. . _servants_ in england, the most barren parts of the people, ii. . _settlements_, new, in america, letter concerning, iii. . _settlers_ of british colonies, their rights, iii. . _sheep_, a whole flock killed by lightning, i. . _ships_, abandoned at sea, often saved, ii. . may be nicely balanced, . accidents to, at sea, how guarded against, . _shirley_, governor, letters to, on the taxation of the colonies, iii. . on american representation in the british parliament, . _shooting-stars_, letter on, ii. . _shop-keepers_ in america, iii. . _sides_ of vessels, the best construction of, ii. . _silver_ cann, experiment with, i. . vessels, not so easily handled as glass, when filled with hot liquors, ii. . _slavery_, society for the abolition of, i. . address to the public on the abolition of, iii. . _slaves_, not profitable labourers, ii. . diminish population, ii. . _slave-trade_, sentiment of a french moralist respecting, ii. . parody on the arguments in favour of, . _sliding-plates_ for smoky chimnies described, ii. . _slitting-mills_ in america, iii. . _small_, mr. alexander, letter from, i. . _smell_ of electricity, how produced, i. . _smoke_, principle by which it ascends, ii. . stove that consumes it, . the burning of, useful in hot-houses, . _smoky_ chimnies, observation on the causes and cure of, ii. . remedy for, if by want of air, , . if by too large openings in the room, , . if by too short a funnel, . if by overpowering each other, , . if by being overtopped, , . if by improper situation of a door, . if by smoke drawn down their funnels, , . if by strong winds, , . difficult sometimes to discover the cause of, . _smuggling_, reflections on, ii. . encouragement of, not honest, . _snow_, singular instance of its giving electricity, i. . _soap-boiler_, part of franklin's early life devoted to the business of, i. , . _societies_, of which franklin was president, i. . learned, of which he was a member, . _socrates_, his mode of disputation, i. . _songs_, ancient, give more pleasure than modern, ii. . modern, composed of all the defects of speech, . _soul_, argument against the annihilation of, iii. *. _sound_, best mediums for conveying, ii. . observations on, . queries concerning, . _sounds_ just past, we have a perfect idea of their pitch, ii. . _soup-dishes_ at sea, how to be made more convenient, ii. . _spain_, what has thinned its population, ii. . _specific_ weight, what, ii. . _spectacles_, double, advantages of, iii. *, *. _speech_, at algiers, on slavery and piracy, ii. . of mr. galloway, preface to, iii. . last of franklin, on the federal constitution, . _spelling_, a new mode of, recommended, ii. . _spheres_, electric, commodious ones, i. . _spider_, artificial, described, i. . _spirits_, fired without heating, i. , . linen wetted with, cooling in inflammations, ii. . should always be taken to sea in bottles, . _spots_ in the sun, how formed, i. . _squares_, magical square of, ii. . _staffordshire_ chimney, description of, ii. . _stamp-act_ in america stigmatized, iii. . letter on the repeal of, iii. . examination of franklin on, . _stars._ see _shooting_. _state_, internal, of america, iii. . _storms_, causes of, ii. . _stove_, dutch, its advantages and defects, ii. . german, ditto, . to draw downwards, by j. g. leutmann, . for burning pit-coal and consuming its smoke, , , . _strata_ of the earth, letter on, ii. . _strahan_, mr. queries by, on american politics, iii. . answer to the queries, . letter to, disclaiming his friendship, iii. . _stuber_, dr. continuator of franklin's life, i. . _studies_ of trifles, should be moderate, ii. . _stuttering_, one of the affected beauties of modern tunes, ii. . _sugar_, cruelties exercised in producing it, ii. . _sulphur_ globe, its electricity different from that of the glass globe, i. . _sun_, supplies vapour with fire, i. . why not wasted by expense of light, . effect of its rays on different coloured clothes, ii. . light of, proposed to be used instead of candlelight, iii. , . discovered to give light as soon as it rises, . _surfaces_ of glass, different state of its opposite ones, when electrised, i. , . _swimming_, skill of franklin in, i. . art of, how to be acquired, ii. how a person unacquainted with it may avoid sinking, . a delightful and wholesome exercise, ii. , . advantage of, to soldiers, . inventions to improve it, _ibid._ . medical effects of, _ibid._ t. _tariffs_, not easily settled in indian trade, iii. . _tautology_, an affected beauty of modern songs, ii. . _taxation_, american, letters to governor shirley on, iii. . american, dr. franklin's examination on, iii. , . internal and external, distinguished, . on importation of goods and consumption, difference between, . _tea-act_, the duty on, in america, how considered there, iii. , , . characterized by mr. burke, , _note_. _teach_, or blackbeard, name of a ballad written by franklin in his youth, i. . _thanks_ of the assembly of pensylvania to franklin, iii. . _thanksgiving-days_ appointed in new england instead of fasts, iii. . _theory_ of the earth, ii. . of light and heat, . _thermometer_, not cooled by blowing on, when dry, ii. . electrical, described, and experiments with, ii. . _thermometrical_ observations on the gulph-stream, ii. . on the warmth of sea-water, . _thirst_, may be relieved by sea-water, how, ii. . _thunder_ and lightning, how caused, i. . seldom heard far from land, . comparatively little at bermuda, _ibid._ defined, . _thunder-gusts_, what, i. . hypothesis to explain them, , _et seq._ _tides_ in rivers, motion of, explained, ii. , . _time_, occasional fragments of, how to be collected, ii. . is money to a tradesman, iii. . _toads_ live long without nourishment, ii. . _toleration_ in old and new england compared, ii. . _torpedo_, how to determine its electricity, i. , . _tourmalin_, its singular electrical properties, i. . experiments on it, , . _trade_, pleasure attending the first earnings in, i. . should be under no restrictions, ii. . exchanges in, may be advantageous to each party, . inland carriage no obstruction, to, iii. . great rivers in america, favourable to, . bills of credit, in lieu of money, the best medium of, . will find and make its own rates, . _tradesman_, advice to a young one, iii. . _transportation_ of felons to america, highly disagreeable to the inhabitants there, iii. . _treaty_ between america and prussia, humane article of, ii. . _treasures_, hidden, search after, ridiculed, iii. . _trees_, dangerous to be under, in thunder-storms, i. . the shivering of, by lightning, explained, . why cool in the sun, ii. . _tubes_ of glass, electrical, manner of rubbing, i. . lined with a non-electric, experiment with, . exhausted, electric fire moves freely in, . _tunes_, ancient scotch, why give general pleasure, ii. . composed to the wire-harp, . in parts, rousseau's opinion of, . modern, absurdities of, , _et seq._ _turkey_ killed by electricity, i. . _turks_, ceremony observed by, in visiting, iii. . v. u. _vacuum_, torricellian, experiment with, i. . electrical experiment in, . _vapour_, electrical experiment on, i. . _vapours_ from moist hay, &c. easily fired by lightning, i. . cause of their rising considered, ii. , . _vanity_, observation on, i. . _varnish_, dry, burnt by electric sparks, i. . _vattel's_ law of nations, greatly consulted by the american congress, iii. . _vegetable_ diet, observed by franklin, i. . abandoned by franklin, why, . _vegetation_, effects of, on noxious air, ii. . _velocity_ of the electric fire, i. . _virtue_ in private life exemplified, iii. . _vernon_, mr. reposes a trust in franklin, which he violates, i. . _vis_ inertiæ of matter, observations on, ii. . _visits_, unseasonable and importunate, letter on, iii. . _unintelligibleness_, a fault of modern singing, ii. . _union_, albany plan of. see _albany_. _union_ of america with britain, letter on, iii. . _united_ states of america, nature of the congress of, iii. *. _voyage_, from boston to new york, i. . from new york to philadelphia, . from newfoundland to new york, remarks on, ii. . crossing the gulph stream, journal of, . from philadelphia to france, , . from the channel to america, . to benefit distant countries, proposed, . _vulgar_ opinions, too much slighted, ii. . w. _waggons_, number of, supplied by franklin, on a military emergency, i. . _war_, civil, whether it strengthens a country considered, ii. . observations on, . laws of, gradually humanized, _ib._ humane article respecting, in a treaty between prussia and america, ii. . french, of , its origin, iii. . _warm_ rooms do not make people tender, or give colds, ii. . _washington_, early military talents of, i. . franklin's bequest to, . _water_, a perfect conductor of electricity, i. . strongly electrified, rises in vapour, . particles of, in rising, are attached to particles of air, . and air, attract each other, . exploded like gunpowder, by electricity, . expansion of, when reduced to vapour, _ib._ saturated with salt, precipitates the overplus, ii. . will dissolve in air, _ib._ expands when boiling, _ib._ how supported in air, . bubbles on the surface of, hypothesis respecting, . agitated, does not produce heat, , . supposed originally all salt, . fresh, produce of distillation only, _ib._ curious effects of oil on, . _water-casks_, how to dispose of, in leaky vessels, ii. . _water-spouts_, observations on, ii. . whether they descend or ascend, , , . various appearances of, . winds blow from all points towards them, . are whirlwinds at sea, _ib._ effect of one on the coast of guinea, . account of one at antigua, . various instances of, . mr. colden's observations on, . _watson_, mr. william, letter by, on thunder-clouds, i. . _waves_, stilled by oil, ii. , , . greasy water, . _wax_, when fluid will conduct electricity, i. . may be electrised positively and negatively, . _wealth_, way to, iii. . national, positions to be examined concerning, ii. . but three ways of acquiring it, . _webb_, george, a companion of franklin's, i. , , . _wedderburn_, mr. remarks on his treatment of franklin before the privy council, iii. , , notes; . _west_, mr. his conductor struck by lightning, i. . _western_ colonies, plan for settling them, iii. . _whatley_, mr. four letters to, iii. *. _wheels_, electrical, described, i. . _whirlwinds_, how formed, ii. . observations on, . a remarkable one at rome, . account of one in maryland, . _whistle_, a story, iii. . _white_, fittest colour for clothes in hot climates, ii. . _will_, extracts from franklin's, i. . _wilson_, mr. draws electricity from the clouds, i. . _wind_ generated by fermentation, ii. . _winds_ explained, ii. , , . the explanation objected to, , . observations on, by mr. colden, . whether confined to, or generated in, clouds, . raise the surface of the sea above its level, . effect of, on sound, . _winters_, hard, causes of, ii. . _winthrop_, professor, letters from, i. , . _wire_ conducts a great stroke of lightning, though destroyed itself, i. . _wolfe_, general, i. . _women_ of paris, singular saying respecting, as mothers, iii. *. _wood_, dry, will not conduct electricity, i. . why does not feel so cold as metals, ii. . _woods_, not unhealthy to inhabit, ii. . _woollen_, why warmer than linen, ii. , . _words_, to modern songs, only a pretence for singing, ii. . _wygate_, an acquaintance of franklin's, i. . _wyndham_, sir william, applies to franklin to teach his sons swimming, i. . transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. for consistency and clarity, the pound abbreviation 'l.' has been italicized, so for example ' , l.' has been replaced by ' , _l._' in the etext. for consistency, the date and salutation at the beginning of each letter, and the closing and name at the end of each letter, have been put on separate lines (they were sometimes placed on the same line in the original printed text). a 'list of the plates' has been created and added in front of the errata. for consistency, all occurrences of 'abbe' have been replaced by 'abbé'. one occurrence of the oe ligature replaced by oe (l'oeuvre). text omitted by the editor may be indicated by '***', '****' or '----'. all the changes noted in the errata (pg xiv) have been applied to the text. except for those changes noted below, misspelling in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. for example, compleat; cieling; inclose; watry; spunge; negociate; pensylvania; massachussets; newspaper, news-paper; farther, further. in addition: pg v. 'works af' replaced by 'works of'. pg vi. 'side the' replaced by 'side of the'. pg xiv. 'anology' replaced by 'analogy'. pg xiv. errata: ' :' replaced by ' :'. pg xiv. errata: ' :' replaced by ' :'. pg xiv. errata: ' :' replaced by ' :'. pg . 'frandfather' replaced by 'grandfather'. pg . 'oponent' replaced by 'opponent'. pg . 'tolera-manner' replaced by 'tolerable manner'. pg . 'over the the lives' replaced by 'over the lives'. pg . 'mary-la-ville' replaced by 'marly-la-ville'. pg . 'with a whom' replaced by 'with whom'. pg . 'a juncion with' replaced by 'a junction with'. pg . 'of governtment' replaced by 'of government'. pg . 'was appehensive' replaced by 'was apprehensive'. pg . 'in the goal' replaced by 'in the gaol'. pg . 'a num-of' replaced by 'a number of'. pg . 'be learned' replaced by 'he learned'. pg . 'stampt-act' replaced by 'stamp-act'. pg . 'in crouds' replaced by 'in crowds'. pg . 'o bright' replaced by 'of a bright'. pg . 'with mose ease' replaced by 'with more ease'. pg . 'yerhaps' replaced by 'perhaps'. pg . 'does nor burn' replaced by 'does not burn'. pg . 'powdered sulpur' replaced by 'powdered sulphur'. pg . 'satisfation' replaced by 'satisfaction'. pg . 'appear to to me' replaced by 'appear to me'. pg . the * * * asterisks denote text omitted by the editor. pg . 'and by electricty' replaced by 'and by electricity'. pg . 'above a a quarter' replaced by 'above a quarter'. pg . 'most of of the' replaced by 'most of the'. pg . 'silk handkercheif' replaced by 'silk handkerchief'. pg . 'and bottless' replaced by 'and bottles'. pg . 'è celle que' replaced by 'à celle que'. pg . 'piquûres' replaced by 'piqûres'. pg . 'évenénement' replaced by 'événement'. pg . 'and so dicharge' replaced by 'and so discharge'. index pg i. 'animalcnles' replaced by 'animalcules'. index pg i. 'relation batween' replaced by 'relation between'. the index covers all three volumes and was originally printed at the end of volume only. it has been copied to the end of volume and as a convenience for the reader. the index had no page numbers in the original text; page numbers from i to i have been added for completeness. for clarity, some volume identifiers (i. or ii. or iii.) have been added, or removed, in the index. only references within this volume have been hyperlinked. the index has some references to page numbers with a *, eg *. these are valid references; the book printer inserted pages *- * between pages and in vol iii. grounds of natural philosophy divided into thirteen parts with an appendix containing five parts the second edition, much altered from the first, which went under the name of philosophical and physical opinions written by the thrice noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, the duchess of newcastle london, printed by a. maxwell, in the year . to all the universities in europe. most learned societies, all books, without exception, being undoubtedly under your iurisdiction, it is very strange that some authors of good note, are not asham'd to repine at it; and the more forward they are in judging others, the less liberty they will allow to be judg'd themselves. but, if there was not a necessity, yet i would make it my choice, to submit, willingly, to your censures, these _grounds of natural philosophy_, in hopes that you will not condemn them, because they want _art_, if they be found fraught with sense and reason. you are the _starrs of the first magnitude_, whose influence governs the _world of learning_; and it is my confidence, that you will be propitious to the birth of this beloved child of my brain, whom i take the boldness to recommend to your patronage; and as, if you vouchsafe to look on it favourably, i shall be extreamly obliged to your goodness, for its everlasting life: so, if you resolve to frown upon it, i beg the favour, that it be not buried in the hard and rocky grave of your displeasure; but be suffer'd, by your gentle silence, to lye still in the soft and easie bed of oblivion, which is incomparably the less punishment of the two. it is so commonly the error of indulgent parents, to spoil their children out of fondness, that i may be forgiven for spoiling this, in never putting it to suck at the breast of some learned nurse, whom i might have got from among your students, to have assisted me; but would, obstinately, suckle it my self, and bring it up alone, without the help of any scholar: which having caused in the first edition, (which was published under the name of _philosophical and physical opinions_) many imperfections; i have endeavoured in this second, by many alterations and additions, (which have forc'd me to give it another name) to correct them; whereby, i fear, my faults are rather _changed_ and _encreased_, than _amended_. if you expect fair proportions in the parts, and a beautiful symmetry in the whole, having never been taught at all, and having read but little; i acknowledg my self too illiterate to afford it, and too impatient to labour much for method. but, if you will be contented with _pure wit_, and the effects of _meer contemplation_; i hope, that somewhat of that kind may be found in this book, and in my other _philosophical, poetical_, and _oratorical works_: all which i leave, and this especially, to your kind protection, and am, your most humble servant, and admirer, margaret newcastle. a table of the contents. the first part. i. of matter ii. of motion iii. of the degrees of matter iv. of _vacuum_ v. the difference of the two self-moving parts of matter vi. of dividing and uniting of parts vii. of life and knowledg viii. of nature's knowledg, and perception ix. of perception in general x. of double perception xi. whether the triumphant parts can be perceived distinctly from each other xii. whether nature can know her self, or have an absolute power of her self, or have an exact figure xiii. nature cannot judg herself xiv. nature poyses or balances her actions xv. whether there be degrees of corporal strength xvi. of effects and cause xvii. of influence xviii. of fortune and chance xix. of time and eternity the second part. i. of creatures ii. of knowledg and perception of different kinds and sorts of creatures iii. of perception of parts, and united perception iv. whether the rational and sensitive parts, have a perception of each other v. of thoughts, and the whole mind of a creature vi. whether the mind of one creature, can perceive the mind of another creature vii. of perception, and conception viii. of human supposition ix. of information between several creatures x. the reason of several kinds and sorts of creatures xi. of the several properties of several kinds and sorts of creatures the third part. chap. . to . of productions in general viii. productions must partake of some parts of their producers ix. of resemblances of several off-springs, or producers x. of the several appearances of the exterior parts of one creature the fourth part. i. of animal productions, and of the difference between productions and transformations ii. of different figurative motions in man's production iii. of the quickning of a child, or any other sort of animal creatures iv. of the birth of a child v. of mischances, or miscarriages of breeding-creatures vi. of the encrease of growth and strength of mankind, or such like creatures vii. of the several properties of the several exterior shapes of several sorts of animals viii. of the dividing and uniting parts of a particular creature the fifth part. i. of man ii. of the variety of man's natural motions iii. of man's shape and speech iv. of the several figurative parts of human creatures v. of the several perceptions amongst the several parts of man vi. of divided and composed perceptions vii. of the ignorances of the several perceptive organs viii. of the particular and general perceptions of the exterior parts of human creatures ix. of the exterior sensitive organs of human creatures x. of the rational parts of the human organs xi. of the difference between the human conception, and perception xii. of the several varieties of actions of human creatures xiii. of the manner of information between the rational and sensitive parts xiv. of irregularities and regularities of the restoring-parts of human creatures xv. of the agreeing and disagreeing of the sensitive and rational parts of human creatures xvi. of the power of the rational; or rather, of the indulgency of the sensitive xvii. of human appetites and passions xviii. of the rational actions of the head and heart of human creatures xix. of passions and imaginations xx. that associations, divisions, and alterations, cause several effects xxi. of the differences between self-love, and passionate love the sixth part. i. of the motions of some parts of the mind, and of forrein objects ii. of the motions of some parts of the mind iii. of the motions of human passions and appetites; as also, of the motions of the rational and sensitive parts, towards forrein objects iv. of the repetitions of the sensitive and rational actions v. of the passionate love, and sympathetical endeavours, amongst the associate parts of a human creature vi. of acquaintance vii. of the effects of forrein objects of the sensitive body; and of the rational mind of a human creature viii. of the advantage and disadvantage of the encounters of several creatures ix. that all human creatures have the like kind and sorts of properties x. of the singularity of the sensitive, and of the rational corporeal motions xi. of the knowledg between the sensitive organs of a human creature xii. of human perception, or defects of a human creature xiii. of natural fools the seventh part. i. of the sensitive actions of sleeping and waking ii. of sleeping iii. of human dreams iv. of the actions of dreams v. whether the interior parts of a human creature, do sleep vi. whether all the creatures in nature, have sleeping and waking-actions vii. of human death viii. of the heat of human life, and the cold of human death ix. of the last act of human life, ibid. x. whether a human creature hath knowledg in death, or not xi. whether a creature may be new formed after a general dissolution xii. of foreknowledg the eighth part. i. of the irregularity of nature's parts ii. of the human parts of a human creature iii. of human humors iv. of blood, ibid. v. of the radical humors, or parts vi. of expelling malignant disorders in a human creature vii. of human digestions and evacuations viii. of diseases in general ix. of the fundamental diseases the ninth part. i. of sickness ii. of pain iii. of dizziness iv. of the brain seeming to turn round in the head v. of weakness vi. of swooning, ibid. vii. of numb and dead palsies, or gangren's viii. of madness ix. the sensitive and rational parts may be distinctly mad x. the parts of the head are not only subject to madness; but also, the other parts of the body xi. the rational and sensitive parts of a human creature, are apt to disturb each other xii. of diseases produced by conceit the tenth part. i. of fevers ii. of the plague iii. of the small-pox and measles iv. of the intermission of fevers, or agues v. of consumptions vi. of dropsies, ibid. vii. of sweating viii. of coughs ix. of gangren's x. of cancers and fistula's xi. of the gout, ib. xii. of the stone xii. of apoplexies and lethargies xiii. of epilepsies xiv. of convulsions and cramps xv. of cholicks, ibid. xvi. of shaking-palsies xvii. of the muther, spleen, and scurvy xviii. of food or digestions, ibid. xix. of surfeits xx. of natural evacuations and purgings xxi. of purging-drugs xxii. of the various humors of drugs xxiii. of cordials xxiv. of the different actions of the several sensitive parts of a human creature. xxv. of the antipathy of some human creatures, to some forrein objects xxvi. of the effects of forrein objects, on the human mind, ib. xxvii. of contemplation xxviii. of injecting the blood of one animal, into the veins of another animal the eleventh part. i. of the different knowledges in different kinds and sorts of creatures ii. of the variety of self-actions in particular creatures iii. of the variety of corporeal motions of one and the same sort and kind of motion iv. of the variety of particular creatures, ibid. v. of dividing, and rejoyning, or altering exterior figurative motions vi. of different figurative motions in particular creatures vii. of the alterations of exterior and innate figurative motions of several sorts of creatures viii. of local motion ix. of several manners or ways of advantages or disadvantages x. of the actions of some sorts of creatures, over others xi. of glassie-bodies xii. of metamorphoses, or transformations of animals and vegetables, xiii. of the life and death of several creatures xiv. of circles xv. human creatures cannot so probably treat of other sorts of creatures, as of their own the twelfth part. i. of the equality of elements ii. of several tempers iii. of the change and rechange; and of dividing of the parts of the elements iv. of the innate figurative motions of earth v. of the figurative motions of air, ibid. vi. of the innate figurative motions of fire vii. of the productions of elemental fire viii. of flame ix. of the two sorts of fire most different, ibid. x. of dead or dull fires xi. of the occasional actions of fire xii. fire hath not the property to change and rechange xiii. of the innate figurative motions of water xiv. the nature or property of water xv. of the alteration of the exterior figurative motion of water xvi. of oyl of vitriol, ibid. xvii. of mineral and sulphurous waters xviii. the cause of the ebbing and flowing of the sea xix. of overflows xx. of the figure of ice and snow xxi. of the change and rechange of water xxii. of water quenching fire, and fire evaporating water xxiii. of inflamable liquors xxiv. of thunder xxv. of vapour, smoak, wind and clouds xxvi. of wind xxvii. of light xxviii. of darkness xxix. of colours xxx. of the exterior motions of the planets xxxi. of the sun, and planets, and seasons xxxii. of air corrupting dead bodies. the thirteenth part. i. of the innate figurative motions of metal ii. of the melting of metals iii. of burning, melting, boyling, and evaporating iv. of stone v. of the loadstone vi. of bodies apt to ascend, or descend vii. why heavy bodies descend more forcibly than leight bodies ascend, viii. of several sorts of densities and rarities, gravities, and levities ix. of vegetables x. of the production of vegetables xi. of replanting vegetables appendix. the first part. i. whether there can be a substance that is not a body ii. of an immaterial iii. whether an immaterial be perceivable iv. of the difference between god and nature v. all the parts of nature, worship god, ibid. vi. whether god's decrees are limited vii. of god's decrees concerning the particular parts of nature viii. of the ten commandments ix. of several religions x. of rules and prescriptions xi. sins and punishments are material xii. of human conscience the second part. i. whether it is possible there could be worlds consisting only of the rational parts, and others only of the sensitive parts ii. of irregular and regular worlds iii. whether there be egress and regress between the parts of several worlds iv. whether the parts of one and the same society, could (after their dissolution, meet and unite v. whether, if a creature being dissolved, if it could unite again, would be the same vi. of the resurrection of human-kind vii. of the dissolution of a world viii. of a new heaven, and a new earth ix. whether there shall be a material heaven and hell, ibid. x. concerning the joys or torments of the blessed and cursed, after they are in heaven or hell the third part. the preamble. i. of the happy and miserable worlds ii. whether there be such kinds and sorts of creatures in the happy and blessed world, as in this world iii. of the births and deaths of the heavenly world, ibid. iv. whether those creatures could be named blessed, that are subject to dye v. of the productions of the creatures of the regular world vi. whether the creatures in the blessed world, do feed and evacuate vii. of the animals, and of the food of the humans of the happy world viii. whether it is not irregular for one creature to feed on another ix. of the continuance of life in the regular world x. of the excellency and happiness of the creatures of the regular world xi. of human creatures in the regular world xii. of the happiness of human creatures in the material world, ibid. the fourth part. i. of the irregular world ii. of the productions and dissolutions of the creatures of the irregular world iii. of animals, and of humans in the irregular world iv. of objects and perceptions v. the description of the globe of the irregular world, ibid. vi. of the elemental air, and light of the irregular world vii. of storms and tempests in the irregular world viii. of the several seasons; or rather, of the several tempers in the irregular world, ibid. ix. the conclusion of the irregular and unhappy, or cursed world the fifth part. fifteen sections concerning restoring-beds, or wombs the conclusion grounds of natural philosophy. the first part. chap. i. of matter. matter is that we name body; which matter cannot be less, or more, than body: yet some learned persons are of opinion, that there are substances that are not material bodies. but how they can prove any sort of substance to be no body, i cannot tell: neither can any of nature's parts express it, because a corporeal part cannot have an incorporeal perception. but as for matter, there may be degrees, as, _more pure_, or _less pure_; but there cannot be any substances in nature, that are between body, and no body: also, matter cannot be figureless, neither can matter be without parts. likewise, there cannot be matter without place, nor place without matter; so that matter, figure, or place, is but one thing: for, it is as impossible for one body to have two places, as for one place to have two bodies; neither can there be place, without body. chap. ii. of motion. though matter might be without motion, yet motion cannot be without matter; for it is impossible (in my opinion) that there should be an immaterial motion in nature: and if motion is corporeal, then matter, figure, place, and motion, is but one thing, _viz_. a corporeal figurative motion. as for a first motion, i cannot conceive how it can be, or what that first motion should be: for, an immaterial cannot have a material motion; or, so strong a motion, as to set all the material parts in nature, or this world, a-moving; but (in my opinion) every particular part moves by its own motion: if so, then all the actions in nature are self-corporeal, figurative motions. but this is to be noted, that as there is but one matter, so there is but one motion; and as there are several parts of matter, so there are several changes of motion: for, as matter, of what degree soever it is, or can be, is but matter; so motion, although it make infinite changes, can be but motion. chap. iii. of the degrees of matter. though matter can be neither more nor less than matter; yet there may be degrees of matter, as _more pure_, or _less pure_; and yet the purest parts are as much material, in relation to the nature of matter, as the grossest: neither can there be more than two sorts of matter, namely, that sort which is self-moving, and that which is not self-moving. also, there can be but two sorts of the self-moving parts; as, that sort that moves intirely without burdens, and that sort that moves with the burdens of those parts that are not self-moving: so that there can be but these three sorts; those parts that are not moving, those that move free, and those that move with those parts that are not moving of themselves: which degrees are (in my opinion) the rational parts, the sensitive parts, and the inanimate parts; which three sorts of parts are so join'd, that they are but as one body; for, it is impossible that those three sorts of parts should subsist single, by reason nature is but one united material body. chap. iv. of vacuum. in my opinion, there cannot possibly be any _vacuum_: for, though nature, as being material, is divisible and compoundable; and, having self-motion, is in perpetual action: yet nature cannot divide or compose _from_ her self, although she may move, divide, and compose in her self: but, were it possible nature's parts could wander and stray in, and out of _vacuum_, there would be a confusion; for, where unity is not, order cannot be: wherefore, by the order and method of nature's corporeal actions, we may perceive, there is no _vacuum_: for, what needs a _vacuum_, when as body and place is but one thing; and as the body alters, so doth the place? chap. v. the difference of the two self-moving parts of matter. the self-moving parts of nature seem to be of two sorts, or degrees; one being purer, and so more agil and free than the other; which (in my opinion) are the rational parts of nature. the other sort is not so pure; and are the architectonical parts, which are the labouring parts, bearing the grosser materials about them, which are the inanimate parts; and this sort (in my opinion) are the sensitive parts of nature; which form, build, or compose themselves with the inanimate parts, into all kinds and sorts of creatures, as animals, vegetables, minerals, elements, or what creatures soever there are in nature: whereas the rational are so pure, that they cannot be so strong labourers, as to move with burdens of inanimate parts, but move freely without burdens: for, though the rational and sensitive, with the inanimate, move together as one body; yet the rational and sensitive, do not move as one part, as the sensitive doth with the inanimate. but, pray mistake me not, when i say, the inanimate parts are grosser; as if i meant, they were like some densed creature; for, those are but effects, and not causes: but, i mean gross, dull, heavy parts, as, that they are not self-moving; nor do i mean by purity, rarity; but agility: for, rare or dense parts, are effects, and not causes: and therefore, if any should ask, whether the rational and sensitive parts were rare, or dense; i answer, they may be rare or dense, according as they contract, or dilate their parts; for there is no such thing as a single part in nature: for matter, or body, cannot be so divided, but that it will remain matter, which is divisible. chap. vi. of dividing and uniting of parts. though every self-moving part, or corporeal motion, have free-will to move after what manner they please; yet, by reason there can be no single parts, several parts unite in one action, and so there must be united actions: for, though every particular part may divide from particular parts; yet those that divide from some, are necessitated to join with other parts, at the same point of time of division; and at that very same time, is their uniting or joining: so that division, and composition or joining, is as one and the same act. also, every altered action, is an altered figurative place, by reason matter, figure, motion, and place, is but one thing; and, by reason nature is a perpetual motion, she must of necessity cause infinite varieties. chap. vii. of life and knowledg. all the parts of nature have life and knowledg; but, all the parts have not active life, and a perceptive knowledg, but onely the rational and sensitive: and this is to be noted, that the variousness, or variety of actions, causes varieties of lives and knowledges: for, as the self-moving parts alter, or vary their actions; so they alter and vary their lives and knowledges; but there cannot be an infinite particular knowledg, nor an infinite particular life; because matter is divisible and compoundable. chap. viii. of nature's knowledg and perception. if nature were not self-knowing, self-living, and also perceptive, she would run into confusion: for, there could be neither order, nor method, in ignorant motion; neither would there be distinct kinds or sorts of creatures, nor such exact and methodical varieties as there are: for, it is impossible to make orderly and methodical distinctions, or distinct orders, by chances: wherefore, nature being so exact (as she is) must needs be self-knowing and perceptive: and though all her parts, even the inanimate parts, are self-knowing, and self-living; yet, onely her self-moving parts have an active life, and a perceptive knowledg. chap. ix. of perception in general. _perception_ is a sort of knowledg, that hath reference to objects; that is, some parts to know other parts: but yet objects are not the cause of perception; for the cause of perception is self-motion. but some would say, _if there were no object, there could be no perception_. i answer: it is true; for, that cannot be perceived, that is not: but yet, corporeal motions cannot be without parts, and so not without perception. but, put an impossible case, as, that there could be a single corporeal motion, and no more in nature; that corporeal motion may make several changes, somewhat like _conceptions_, although not _perceptions_: but, nature being corporeal, is composed of parts, and therefore there cannot be a want of objects. but there are infinite several manners and ways of perception; which proves, that the objects are not the cause: for, every several kind and sort of creatures, have several kinds and sorts of perception, according to the nature and property of such a kind or sort of composition, as makes such a kind or sort of creature; as i shall treat of, more fully, in the following parts of this book. chap. x. of double perception. there is a _double perception_ in nature, the rational perception, and the sensitive: the rational perception is more subtil and penetrating than the sensitive; also, it is more generally perceptive than the sensitive; also, it is a more agil perception than the sensitive: all which is occasioned not onely through the _purity_ of the rational parts, but through the _liberty_ of the rational parts; whereas the sensitive being incumbred with the inanimate parts, is obstructed and retarded. yet all perceptions, both sensitive and rational, are in parts; but, by reason the rational is freer, (being not a painful labourer) can more easily make an united perception, than the sensitive; which is the reason the rational parts can make a whole perception of a whole object: whereas the sensitive makes but perceptions in part, of one and the same object. chap. xi. whether the triumphant parts can be perceived distinctly from each other. some may make this question,_ whether the three sorts of parts, the rational, sensitive, and inanimate, may be singly perceived?_ i answer, not unless there were single parts in nature; but, though they cannot be singly perceived, yet they singly perceive; because, every part hath its own motion, and so its own perception. and though those parts, that have not self-motion, have not perception; yet, being joined, as one body, to the sensitive, they may by the sensitive motion, have some different sorts of self-knowledg, caused by the different actions of the sensitive parts; but that is not _perception_. but, as i said, the _triumphant parts_ cannot be perceived distinctly asunder, though their actions may be different: for, the joining, or intermixing of parts, hinders not the several actions; as for example, a man is composed of several parts, or, (as the learned term them) _corporeal motions_; yet, not any of those different parts, or corporeal motions, are a hindrance to each other: the same between the _sensitive_ and _rational parts_. chap. xii. whether nature can know her self, or have an absolute power of her self, or have an exact figure. i was of an opinion, that nature, because infinite, could not know her self; because infinite hath no limit. also, that nature could not have an absolute power over her own parts, because she had infinite parts; and, that the infiniteness did hinder the absoluteness: but since i have consider'd, that the infinite parts must of necessity be self-knowing; and that those infinite self-knowing parts are united in one infinite body, by which nature must have both an united knowledg, and an united power. also, i questioned, whether nature could have an exact figure, (but, mistake me not; for i do not mean the figure of matter, but a composed figure of parts) because nature was composed of infinite variety of figurative parts: but considering, that those infinite varieties of infinite figurative parts, were united into one body; i did conclude, that she must needs have an exact figure, though she be infinite: as for example, this world is composed of numerous and several figurative parts, and yet the world hath an exact form and frame, the same which it would have if it were infinite. but, as for self-knowledg, and power, certainly god hath given them to nature, though her power be limited: for, she cannot move beyond her nature; nor hath she power to make her self any otherwise than what she is, since she cannot create, or annihilate any part, or particle: nor can she make any of her parts, immaterial; or any immaterial, corporeal: nor can she give to one part, the nature (_viz_. the knowledg, life, motion, or perception) of another part; which is the reason one creature cannot have the properties, or faculties of another; they may have the like, but not the same. chap. xiii. nature cannot judg her self. although nature knows her self, and hath a free power of her self; (i mean, a natural knowledg and power) yet, nature cannot be an upright, and just judg of her self, and so not of any of her parts; because every particular part is a part of her self. besides, as she is self-moving, she is self-changeing, and so she is alterable: wherefore, nothing can be a perfect, and a just judg, but something that is individable, and unalterable, which is the infinite god, who is unmoving, immutable, and so unalterable; who is the judg of the infinite corporeal actions of his servant nature. and this is the reason that all nature's parts appeal to god, as being the only judg. chap. xiv. nature poyses, or balances her actions. although nature be infinite, yet all her actions seem to be _poysed_, or _balanced_, by opposition; as for example, as nature hath dividing, so composing actions: also, as nature hath regular, so irregular actions; as nature hath dilating, so contracting actions: in short, we may perceive amongst the creatures, or parts of this world, slow, swift, thick, thin, heavy, leight, rare, dense, little, big, low, high, broad, narrow, light, dark, hot, cold, productions, dissolutions, peace, warr, mirth, sadness, and that we name _life_, and _death_; and infinite the like; as also, infinite varieties in every several kind and sort of actions: but, the infinite varieties are made by the self-moving parts of nature, which are the corporeal figurative motions of nature. chap. xv. whether there be degrees of corporeal strength. as i have declared, there are (in my opinion) two sorts of self-moving parts; the one sensitive, the other rational. the rational parts of my mind, moving in the manner of conception, or inspection, did occasion some disputes, or arguments, amongst those parts of my mind. the arguments were these: _whether there were degrees of strength, as there was of purity, between their own sort, as, the rational and the sensitive?_ the major part of the argument was,_ that self-motion could be but self-motion: for, not any part of nature could move beyond its power of self-motion_. but the minor part argued, _that the self-motion of the rational, might be_ _stronger than the self-motion of the sensitive._ but the major part was of the opinion, _that there could be no degrees of the power of nature, or the nature of nature: for matter, which was nature, could be but self-moving, or not self-moving; or partly self-moving, or not self-moving._ but the minor argued, _that it was not against the nature of matter to have degrees of corporeal strength, as well as degrees of purity: for, though there could not be degrees of purity amongst the parts of the same sort, as amongst the parts of the rational, or amongst the parts of the sensitive; yet, if there were degrees of the rational and sensitive parts, there might be degrees of strength._ the major part said, _that if there were degrees of strength, it would make a confusion, by reason there would be no agreement; for, the strongest would be tyrants to the weakest, in so much as they would never suffer those parts to act methodically or regularly._ but the minor part said, _that they had observed, that there was degrees of strength amongst the sensitive parts._ the major part argued,_ that they had not degrees of strength by nature; but, that the greater number of parts were stronger than a less number of parts. also, there were some sorts of actions, that had advantage of other sorts. also, some sorts of compositions are stronger than other; not through the degrees of innate strength, nor through the number of parts; but, through the manner and form of their compositions, or productions._ thus my thoughts argued; but, after many debates and disputes, at last my rational parts agreed, that, if there were degrees of strength, it could not be between the parts of the same degree, or sort; but, between the rational and sensitive; and if so, the sensitive was stronger, being _less pure_; and the rational was more agil, being _more pure_. chap. xvi. of effects, and cause. to treat of infinite effects, produced from an an infinite cause, is an endless work, and impossible to be performed, or effected; only this may be said, that the effects, though infinite, are so united to the material cause, as that not any single effect can be, nor no effect can be annihilated; by reason all effects are in the power of the cause. but this is to be noted, that some effects producing other effects, are, in some sort or manner, a cause. chap. xvii. of influence. an _influence_ is this; when as the corporeal figurative motions, in different kinds, and sorts of creatures, or in one and the same sorts, or kinds, move sympathetically: and though there be antipathetical motions, as well as sympathetical; yet, all the infinite parts of matter, are agreeable in their nature, as being all material, and self-moving; and by reason there is no _vacuum_, there must of necessity be an influence amongst all the parts of nature. chap. xviii. of fortune and chance. _fortune_, is only various corporeal motions of several creatures, design'd to one creature, or more creatures; either to _that_ creature, or _those_ creatures advantage, or disadvantage: if advantage, man names it _good fortune_; if disadvantage, man names it _ill fortune_. as for _chance_, it is the visible effects of some hidden cause; and _fortune_, a sufficient cause to produce such effects: for, the conjunction of sufficient causes, doth produce such or such effects; which effects could not be produced, if any of those causes were wanting: so that, _chances_ are but the effects of fortune. chap. xix. of time and eternity. _time_ is not a thing by it self; nor is _time_ immaterial: for, _time_ is only the variations of corporeal motions; but eternity depends not on motion, but of a being without beginning, or ending. the second part. chap. i. of creatures. all creatures are composed-figures, by the consent of associating parts; by which association, they joyn into such, or such a figured creature: and though every corporeal motion, or self-moving part, hath its own motion; yet, by their association, they all agree in proper actions, as actions proper to their compositions: and, if every particular part, hath not a perception of all the parts of their association; yet, every part knows its own work. chap. ii. of knowledg and perception of different kinds and sorts of creatures. there is not any creature in nature, that is not composed of self-moving parts, (_viz._ both of rational and sensitive) as also of the inanimate parts, which are self-knowing: so that all creatures, being composed of these sorts of parts, must have a sensitive, and rational knowledg and perception, as animals, vegetables, minerals, elements, or what else there is in nature: but several kinds, and several sorts in these kinds of creatures, being composed after different manners, and ways, must needs have different lives, knowledges, and perceptions: and not only every several kind, and sort, have such differences; but, every particular creature, through the variations of their self-moving parts, have varieties of lives, knowledges, perceptions, conceptions, and the like; and not only so, but every particular part of one and the same creature, have varieties of knowledges, and perceptions, because they have varieties of actions. but, (as i have declared) there is not any different kind of creature, that can have the like life, knowledg, and perception; not only because they have different productions, and different forms; but, different natures, as being of different kinds. chap. iii. of perception of parts, and united perception. all the self-moving parts are perceptive; and, all perception is in parts, and is dividable, and compoundable, as being material; also, alterable, as being self-moving: wherefore, no creature that is composed, or consists of many several sorts of corporeal figurative motions, but must have many sorts of perception; which is the reason that one creature, as man, cannot perceive another man any otherwise but in parts: for, the rational, and sensitive; nay, all the parts of one and the same creature, perceive their adjoining parts, as they perceive foreign parts; only, by their close conjunction and near relation, they unite in one and the same actions. i do not say, they always agree: for, when they move irregularly, they disagree: and some of those united parts, will move after one manner, and some after another; but, when they move regularly, then they move to one and the same design, or one and the same united action. so, although a creature is composed of several sorts of corporeal motions; yet, these several sorts, being properly united in one creature, move all agreeably to the property and nature of the whole creature; that is, the particular parts move according to the property of the whole creature; because the particular parts, by conjunction, make the whole: so that, the several parts make one whole; by which, a whole creature hath both a general knowledg, and a knowledg of parts; whereas, the perceptions of foreign objects, are but in the parts: and this is the reason why one creature perceives not the whole of another creature, but only some parts. yet this is to be noted, that not any part hath another part's nature, or motion, nor therefore, their knowledg, or perception; but, by agreement, and unity of parts, there is composed perceptions. chap. iv. whether the rational and sensitive parts have a perception of each other. some may ask the question, _whether the rational and sensitive, have perception of each other?_ i answer: in my opinion, they have. for, though the rational and sensitive parts, be of two sorts; yet, both sorts have self-motion; so that they are but as one, as, that they are both corporeal motions; and, had not the sensitive parts incumbrances, they would be, in a degree, as agil, and as free as the rational. but, though each sort hath perception of each other, and some may have the like; yet they have not the same: for, not any part can have another's perception, or knowledg; but, by reason the rational and sensitive, are both corporeal motions, there is a strong sympathy between those sorts, in one conjunction, or creature. indeed, the rational parts are the designing parts; and the sensitive, the labouring parts; and the inanimate are as the material parts: not but all the three sorts are material parts; but the inanimate, being not self-moving, are the burdensome parts. chap. v. of thoughts, and the whole mind of a creature. as for thoughts, though they are several corporeal motions, or self-moving parts; yet, being united, by conjunction in one creature, into one whole mind, cannot be perceived by some parts of another creature, nor by the same sort of creature, as by another man. but some may ask, _whether the whole mind of one creature, as the whole mind of one man, may not perceive the whole mind of another man_? i answer, that if the mind was not joyn'd and mix'd with the sensitive and inanimate parts, and had not interior, as well as exterior parts, the whole mind of one man, might perceive the whole mind of another man; but, that being not possible, one whole mind cannot perceive another whole mind: by which observation we may perceive, there are no _platonick lovers_ in nature. but some may ask, whether the sensitive parts can perceive the rational, in one and the same creature? i answer, they do; for if they did not, it were impossible for the sensitive parts to execute the rational designs; so that, what the mind designs, the sensitive body doth put in execution, as far as they have power: but if, through irregularities, the body be sick, and weak, or hath some infirmities, they cannot execute the designs of the mind. chap. vi. whether the mind of one creature, can perceive the mind of another creature. some may ask the reason, _why one creature, as man, cannot perceive the thoughts of another man, as well as he perceives his exterior sensitive parts?_ i answer, that the rational parts of one man, perceive as much of the rational parts of another man, as the sensitive parts of that man doth of the sensitive parts of the other man; that is, as much as is presented to his perception: for, all creatures, and every part and particle, have those three sorts of matter; and therefore, every part of a creature is perceiving, and perceived. but, by reason all creatures are composed of parts, (_viz._ both of the rational and sensitive) all perceptions are in parts, as well the rational, as the sensitive perception: yet, neither the rational, nor the sensitive, can perceive all the interior parts or corporeal motions, unless they were presented to their perception: neither can one part know the knowledg and perception of another part: but, what parts of one creature are subject to the perception of another creature, those are perceived. chap. vii. of perception, and conception. although the exterior parts of one creature, can but perceive the exterior parts of another creature; yet, the rational can make conceptions of the interior parts, but not perception: for, neither the sense, nor reason, can perceive what is not present, but by rote, as after the manner of conceptions, or remembrances, as i shall in my following chapters declare: so that, the exterior rational parts, that are with the exterior sensitive parts of an object, are as much perceived, the one, as the other: but, those exterior parts of an object, not moving in particular parties, as in the whole creature, is the cause that some parts of one creature, cannot perceive the whole composition or frame of another creature: that is, some of the rational parts of one creature, cannot perceive the whole mind of another creature. the like of the sensitive parts. chap. viii. of human suppositions. although nature hath an infinite knowledg and perception; yet, being a body, and therefore divisible and compoundable; and having, also, self-motion, to divide and compound her infinite parts, after infinite several manners; is the reason that her finite parts, or particular creatures, cannot have a general or infinite knowledg, being limited, by being finite, to finite perceptions, or perceptive knowledg; which is the cause of _suppositions_, or imaginations, concerning forrein objects: as for example, a man can but perceive the exterior parts of another man, or any other creature, that is subject to human perception; yet, his rational parts may suppose, or presuppose, what another man thinks, or what he will act: and for other creatures, a man may suppose or imagine what the innate nature of such a vegetable, or mineral, or element is; and may imagine or suppose the moon to be another world, and that all the fixed starrs are sunns; which suppositions, man names _conjectures_. chap. ix. of information between several creatures. no question but there is _information_ between all creatures: but, several sorts of creatures, having several sorts of informations, it is impossible for any particular sort to know, or have perceptions of the infinite, or numberless informations, between the infinite and numberless parts, or creatures of nature: nay, there are so many several informations amongst one sort (as of mankind) that it is impossible for one man to perceive them all; no, nor can one man generally perceive the particular informations that are between the particular parts of his sensitive body; or between the particular informations of his rational body; or between the particular rational and sensitive parts: much less can man perceive, or know the several informations of other creatures. chap. x. the reason of several kinds and sorts of creatures. some may ask, _why there are such sorts of creatures, as we perceive there are, and not other sorts?_ i answer, that, 'tis probable, we do not perceive all the several kinds and sorts of creatures in nature: in truth, it is impossible (if nature be infinite) for a finite to perceive the infinite varieties of nature._ also they may ask, why the planets are of a spherical shape, and human creatures are of an upright shape, and beasts of a bending and stooping shape? also, why birds are made to flye, and not beasts? and for what cause, or design, have animals such and such sorts of shapes and properties? and vegetables such and such sorts of shapes and properties? and so of minerals and elements?_ i answer; that several sorts, kinds, and differences of particulars, causes order, by reason it causes distinctions: for, if all creatures were alike, it would cause a confusion. chap. xi. of the several properties of several kinds and sorts of creatures. as i have said, there are several kinds, and several sorts, and several particular creatures of several kinds and sorts; whereof there are some creatures of a mixt kind, and some of a mixt sort, and some of a mixture of some particulars. also, there are some kind of creatures, and sorts of creatures; as also particulars of a dense nature, others of a rate nature; some of a leight nature, some of a heavy nature; some of a bright nature, some of a dark nature; some of an ascending nature, some of a descending nature; some of a hard nature, some of a soft nature; some of a loose nature, and some of a fixt nature; some of an agil nature, and some of a slow nature; some of a consistent nature, and some of a dissolving nature: all which is according to the frame and form of their society, or composition. the third part. chap. i. of productions in general. the self-moving parts, or corporeal motions, are the producers of all composed figures, such as we name _creatures_: for, though all matter hath figure, by being matter; for it were non-sense to say, _figureless matter_; since the most pure parts of matter, have figure, as well as the grossest; the rarest, as well as the densed: but, such composed figures which we name _creatures_, are produced by particular associations of self-moving parts, into particular kinds, and sorts; and particular creatures in every kind, or sort. the particular kinds, that are subject to human perceptions, are those we name animals, vegetables, minerals, and elements; of which kinds, there are numerous sorts; and of every sort, infinite particulars: and though there be infinite varieties in nature, made by the corporeal motions, or self-moving parts, which might cause a confusion: yet, considering nature is intire in her self, as being only material, and as being but one united body; also, poysing all her actions by opposites; 'tis impossible to be any ways in extreams, or to have a confusion. chap. ii. of productions in general. the sensitive self-moving parts, or corporeal motions, are the labouring parts of all productions, or fabricks of all creatures; but yet, those corporeal motions, are parts of the creature they produce: for, production is only a society of particular parts, that joyn into particular figures, or creatures: but, as parts produce figures, by association; so they dissolve those figures by division: for, matter is a perpetual motion, that is always dividing and composing; so that not any creature can be eternally one and the same: for, if there were no dissolvings, and alterings, there would be no varieties of particulars; for, though the kinds and sorts may last, yet not the particulars. but, mistake me not, i do not say those figures are lost, or annihilated in nature; but only, their society is dissolved, or divided in nature. but this is to be noted, that some creatures are sooner produced and perfected, than others; and again, some creatures are sooner decayed, or dissolved. chap. iii. of productions in general. there are so many different composed parts, and so much of variety of action in every several part of one creature, as 'tis impossible for human perception to perceive them; nay, not every corporeal motion of one creature, doth perceive all the varieties of the same society; and, by the several actions, not only of several parts, but of one and the same parts, cause such obscurity, as not any creature can tell, not only how they were produced, but, not how they consist: but, by reason every part knows his own work, there is order and method: for example, in a human creature, those parts that produce, or nourish the bones, those of the sinews, those of the veins, those of the flesh, those of the brains, and the like, know all their several works, and consider not each several composed part, but what belongs to themselves; the like, i believe, in vegetables, minerals, or elements. but mistake me not; for, i do not say, those corporeal motions in those particulars, are bound to those particular works, as, that they cannot change, or alter their actions if they will, and many times do: as some creatures dissolve before they are perfect, or quite finished; and some as soon as finished; and some after some short time after they are finished; and some continue long, as we may perceive by many creatures that dye, which i name dissolving in several ages; but, untimely dissolutions, proceed rather from some particular irregularities of some particular parts, than by a general agreement. chap. iv. of productions in general. the reason that all creatures are produced by the ways of production, as one creature to be composed out of other creatures, is, that nature is but one matter, and that all her parts are united as one material body, having no additions, or diminutions; no new creations, or annihilations: but, were not nature one and the same, but that her parts were of different natures; yet, creatures must be produced by creatures, that is, composed figures, as a beast, a tree, a stone, water, &c. must be composed of _parts_, not a _single part_: for, a single part cannot produce composed figures; nor can a single part produce another single part; for, matter cannot create matter; nor can one part produce another part out of it self: wherefore, all natural creatures are produced by the consent and agreement of many self-moving parts, or corporeal motions, which work to a particular design, as to associate into particular kinds and sorts of creatures. chap. v. of productions in general. as i said in my former chapter, that all creatures are produced, or composed by the agreement and consent of particular parts; yet some creatures are composed of more, and some of fewer parts: neither are all creatures produced, or composed after one and the same manner; but some after one manner, and some after another manner: indeed, there are divers manners of productions, both of those we name natural, and those we name _artificial_; but i only treat of natural productions, which are so various, that it is a wonder if any two creatures are just alike; by which we may perceive, that not only in several kinds and sorts, but in particulars of every kind, or sort, there is some difference, so as to be distinguished from each other, and yet the species of some creatures are like to their kind, and sort, but not all; and the reason that most creatures are in _species_, according to their sort, and kind, is not only, that nature's wisdom orders and regulates her corporeal figurative motions, into kinds and sorts of societies and conjunctions; but, those societies cause a perceptive acquaintance, and an united love, and good liking of the compositions, or productions: and not only a love to their figurative compositions, but to all that are of the same sort, or kind; and especially, their being accustom'd to actions proper to their figurative compositions, is the cause that those parts, that divide from the producers, begin a new society, and, by degrees, produce the like creature; which is the cause that animals and vegetables produce according to their likeness. the same may be amongst minerals and elements, for all we can know. but yet, some creatures of one and the same sort, are not produced after one and the same manner: as for example, one and the same sort of vegetables, may be produced after several manners, and yet, in the effect, be the same, as when vegetables are sowed, planted, engrafted; as also, seeds, roots, and the like, they are several manners, or ways of productions, and yet will produce the same sort of vegetable: but, there will be much alterations in replanting, which is occasioned by the change of associating parts, and parties; but as for the several productions of several kinds and sorts, they are very different; as for example, animals are not produced as vegetables, or vegetables as minerals, nor minerals as any of the rest: nor are all animals produced alike, nor minerals, or vegetables; but after many different manners, or ways. neither are all productions like their producers; for, some are so far from resembling their figurative society, that they produce another kind, or sort of composed figures; as for example, maggots out of cheese, other worms out of roots, fruits, and the like: but these sorts of creatures, man names _insects_; but yet they are animal creatures, as well as others. chap. vi. of productions in general. all creatures are produced, and producers; and all these productions partake more or less of the producers; and are necessitated so to do, because there cannot be any thing new in nature: for, whatsoever is produced, is of the same matter; nay, every particular creature hath its particular parts: for, not any one creature can be produced of any other parts than what produced it; neither can the same producer produce one and the same double, (as i may say to express my self:) for, though the same producers may produce the like, yet not the same: for, every thing produced, hath its own corporeal figurative motions; but this might be, if nature was not so full of variety: for, if all those corporeal motions, or self-moving parts, did associate in the like manner, and were the very same parts, and move in the very same manner; the same production, or creature, might be produced after it was dissolved; but, by reason the self-moving parts of nature are always dividing and composing _from_, and _to_ parts, it would be very difficult, if not impossible. chap. vii. of productions in general. as there are productions, or compositions, made by the sensitive corporeal motions, so there are of the rational corporeal motions, which are composed figures of the mind: and the reason the rational productions are more various, as also more numerous, is, that the rational is more loose, free, and so more agil than the sensitive; which is also the reason that the rational productions require not such degrees of time, as the sensitive. but i shall treat more upon this subject, when i treat of that animal we name _man_. chap. vii. _lastly_, of productions in general. though all creatures are made by the several associations of self-moving parts, or (as the learned name them) _corporeal motions_; yet, there are infinite varieties of corporeal figurative motions, and so infinite several manners and ways of productions; as also, infinite varieties of figurative motions in every produced creature: also, there is variety in the difference of time, of several productions, and of their consistency and dissolution: for, some creatures are produced in few hours, others not in many years. again, some continue not a day; others, numbers of years. but this is to be noted, that according to the regularity, or irregularity of the associating motions, their productions are more or less perfect. also, this is to be noted, that there are rational productions, as well as sensitive: for, though all creatures are composed both of sensitive and rational parts, yet the rational parts move after another manner. chap. viii. productions must partake of some parts of their producers. no animal, or vegetable, could be produced, but by such, or such particular producers; neither could an animal, or vegetable, be produced without some corporeal motions of their producers; that is, some of the producers self-moving parts; otherwise the like actions might produce, not only the like creatures, but the same creatures, which is impossible: wherefore, the things produced, are part of the producers; for, no particular creature could be produced, but by such particular producers. but this is to be noted, that all sorts of creatures are produced by more, or fewer, producers. also, the first producers are but the first founders of the things produced, but not the only builders: for, there are many several sorts of corporeal motions, that are the builders; for, no creature can subsist, or consist, by it self, but must assist, and be assisted: yet, there are some differences in all productions, although of the same producers; otherwise all the off-springs of one and the same producer, would be alike: and though, sometimes, their several off-springs may be so alike, as hardly to be distinguished; yet, that is so seldom, as it appears as a wonder; but there is a property in all productions, as, for the produced to belong as a right and property to the _producer_. chap. ix. of resemblances of several off-springs, or producers. there are numerous kinds and sorts of productions, and infinite manners and ways, in the actions of productions; which is the cause that the off-springs of the same producers, are not so just alike, but that they are distinguishable; but yet there may not only be resemblances between particular off-springs of the same producers, as also of the same sort; but, of different sorts of creatures: but the actions of all productions that are according to their own _species_, are imitating actions, but not bare imitations, as by an incorporeal motion; for if so, then a covetous woman, that loves gold, might produce a wedg of gold instead of a child; also, _virgins_ might be as fruitful as _married wives_. chap. x. of the several appearances of the exterior parts of one creature. every altered action of the exterior parts, causes an altered appearance: as for example, a man, or the like creature, doth not appear when he is old, as when he was young; nor when he is sick, as when he is well in health; no, nor when he is cold, as when he is hot. nor do they appear in several passions alike: for, though man can best perceive the alteration of his own kind, or sort; yet, other creatures have several appearances, as well as man; some of which, man may perceive, though not all, being of a different sort. and not only animals, but vegetables, and elements, have altered appearances, and many that are subject to man's perception. the fourth part. chap. i. of animal productions; and of the differences between productions, and transformations. i understand productions to be between particulars; as, some particular creatures to produce other particular creatures; but not to transform from one sort of creature, into another sort of creature, as cheese into maggots, and fruit into worms, &c. which, in some manner, is like metamorphosing. so by transformation, the intellectual nature, as well as the exterior form, is transform'd: whereas production transforms only the exterior form, but not the intellectual nature; which is the cause that such transformations cannot return into their former state; as a worm to be a fruit, or a maggot a cheese again, as formerly. hence i perceive, that all sorts of fowls are partly produced, and partly transformed: for, though an egg be produced, yet a chicken is but a transformed egg. chap. ii. of different figurative motions in man's production. all creatures are produced by degrees; which proves, that not any creature is produced, in perfection, by one act, or figurative motion: for, though the producers are the first founders, yet not the builders. but, as for animal creatures, there be some sorts that are composed of many different figurative motions; amongst which sorts, is mankind, who has very different figurative parts, as bones, sinews, nerves, muscles, veins, flesh, skin, and marrow, blood, choler, flegm, melancholy, and the like; also, head, breast, neck, arms, hands, body, belly, thighs, leggs, feet, &c. also, brains, lungs, stomack, heart, liver, midriff, kidnies, bladder, guts, and the like; and all these have several actions, yet all agree as one, according to the property of that sort of creature named man. chap. iii. of the quickning of a child, or any other sort of animal creatures. the reason that a woman, or such like animal, doth not feel her child so soon as it is produced, is, that the child cannot have an animal motion, until it hath an animal nature, that is, until it be perfectly an animal creature; and as soon as it is a perfect child, she feels it to move, according to its nature: but it is only the sensitive parts of the child that are felt by the mother, not the rational; because those parts are as the designers, not the builders; and therefore, being not the labouring parts, are not the sensible parts. but it is to be noted, that, according to the regularity, or irregularity of the figurative motions, the child is _well shaped_, or <strong>mishaped</strong>. chap. iv. of the birth of a child. the reason why a child, or such like animal creature, stays no longer in the mother's body, than to such a certain time, is, that a child is not perfect before that time, and would be too big after that time; and so big, that it would not have room enough; and therefore it strives and labours for liberty. chap. v. of mischances, or miscarriages of breeding creatures. when a mare, doe, hind, or the like animal, cast their young, or a woman miscarries of her child, the mischance proceeds either through the irregularities of the corporeal motions, or parts of the child; or through some irregularity of the parts of the mother; or else of both mother and child. if the irregularities be of the parts of the child, those parts divide from the mother, through their irregularity: but, if the irregularity be in the parts of the mother, then the mother divides in some manner from the child; and if there be a distemper in both of them, the child and mother divide from each other: but, such mischances are at different times, some sooner, and some later. as for false conceptions, they are occasioned through the irregularities of conception. chap. vi. of the encrease of growth, and strength of mankind, or such like creatures. the reason most animals, especially human creatures, are weak whilst they are infants, and that their strength and growth encreases by degrees, is, that a child hath not so many parts, as when he is a youth; nor so many parts when he is a youth, as when he is a man: for, after the child is parted from the mother, it is nourished by other creatures, as the mother was, and the child by the mother; and according as the nourishing parts be regular, or irregular, so is the child, youth, or man, weaker, or stronger; healthful, or diseased; and when the figurative motions move (as i may say for expression sake) curiously, the body is neatly shaped, and is, as we say, beautiful. but this is to be noted, that 'tis not greatness, or bulk of body, makes a body perfect; for, there are several sizes of every sort, or kind of creatures; as also, in every particular kind, or sort; and every several size may be as perfect, one, as the other: but, i mean the number of parts, according to the proper size. chap. vii. of the several properties of the several exterior shapes of several sorts of animals. the several exterior shapes of creatures, cause several properties, as running, jumping, hopping, leaping, climbing, galloping, trotting, ambling, turning, winding, and rowling; also creeping, crawling, flying, soaring or towring; swimming, diving, digging, stinging or piercing; pressing, spinning, weaving, twisting, printing, carving, breaking, drawing, driving, bearing, carrying, holding, griping or grasping, infolding, and millions of the like. also, the exterior shapes cause defences, as horns, claws, teeth, bills, talons, finns, _&c._ likewise, the exterior shapes cause offences, and give offences: as also, the different sorts of exterior shapes, cause different exterior perceptions. chap. viii. of the dividing and uniting parts of a particular creature. those parts (as i have said) that were the first founders of an animal, or other sort of creature, may not be constant inhabitants: for, though the society may remain, the particular parts may remove: also, all particular societies of one kind, or sort, may not continue the like time; but some may dissolve sooner than others. also, some alter by degrees, others of a sudden; but, of those societies that continue, the particular parts remove, and other particular parts unite; so, as some parts _were_ of the society, so some other parts are of the society, and _will be_ of the society: but, when the form, frame, and order of the society begins to alter, then that particular creature begins to decay. but this is to be noted, that those particular creatures that dye in their childhood, or youth, were never a full and regular society; and the dissolving of a society, whether it be a full, or but a forming society, man names _death_. also, this is to be noted, that the nourishing motion of food, is the uniting motion; and the cleansing, or evacuating motions, are the dividing corporeal motions. likewise it is to be noted, that a society requires a longer time of uniting than of dividing; by reason uniting requires assistance of foreign parts, whereas dividings are only a dividing of home-parts. also, a particular creature, or society, is longer in dividing its parts, than in altering its actions; because a dispersing action is required in division, but not in alteration of actions. the fifth part. chap. i. of man. now i have discoursed, in the former parts, after a general manner, of _animals_: i will, in the following chapters, speak more particularly of that sort we name _mankind_; who believe (being ignorant of the nature of other creatures) that they are the most knowing of all creatures; and yet a _whole man_ (as i may say for expression-sake) doth not know all the figurative motions belonging either to his mind, or body: for, he doth not generally know every particular action of his corporeal motions, as, how he was framed, or formed, or perfected. nor doth he know every particular motion that occasions his present consistence, or being: nor every particular digestive, or nourishing motion: nor, when he is sick, the particular irregular motion that causes his sickness. nor do the rational motions in the head, know always the figurative actions of those of the heel. in short, (as i said) man doth not generally know every particular part, or corporeal motion, either of mind, or body: which proves, man's natural soul is not inalterable, or individable, and uncompoundable. chap. ii. of the variety of man's natural motions. there is abundance of varieties of figurative motions in man: as, first, there are several figurative motions of the form and frame of man, as of his innate, interior, and exterior figurative parts. also, there are several figures of his several perceptions, conceptions, appetite, digestions, reparations, and the like. there are also several figures of several postures of his several parts; and a difference of his figurative motions, or parts, from other creatures; all which are numberless: and yet all these different actions are proper to the nature of _man_. chap. iii. of man's shape and speech. the shape of man's sensitive body, is, in some manner, of a mixt form: but, he is singular in this, that he is of an upright and straight shape; of which, no other animal but man is: which shape makes him not only fit, proper, easie and free, for all exterior actions; but also for speech: for being streight, as in a straight and direct line from the head to the feet, so as his nose, mouth, throat, neck, chest, stomack, belly, thighs, and leggs, are from a straight line: also, his organ-pipes, nerves, sinews, and joynts, are in a straight and equal posture to each other; which is the cause, man's tongue, and organs, are more apt for speech than those of any other creature; which makes him more apt to imitate any other creature's voyces, or sounds: whereas other animal creatures, by reason of their bending shapes, and crooked organs, are not apt for speech; neither (in my opinion) have other animals so melodious a sound, or voice, as man: for, though some sorts of birds voices are sweet, yet they are weak, and faint; and beasts voices are harsh, and rude: but of all other animals, besides man, birds are the most apt for speech; by reason they are more of an upright shape, than beasts, or any other sorts of animal creatures, as fish, and the like; for, birds are of a straight and upright shape, as from their breasts, to their heads; but, being not so straight as man; causes birds to speak uneasily, and constrainedly: man's shape is so ingeniously contrived, that he is fit and proper for more several sorts of exterior actions, than any other animal creature; which is the cause he seems as lord and sovereign of other animal creatures. chap. iv. of the several figurative parts of human creatures. the manner of man's composition, or form, is of different figurative parts; whereof some of those parts seem the supreme, or (as i may say) fundamental parts; as the head, chest, lungs, stomack, heart, liver, spleen, bowels, reins, kidnies, gaul, and many more: also, those parts have other figurative parts belonging or adjoining to them, as the head, scull, brains, _pia-mater, dura-mater_, forehead, nose, eyes, cheeks, ears, mouth, tongue, and several figurative parts belonging to those; so of the rest of the parts, as the arms, hands, fingers, leggs, feet, toes, and the like: all which different parts, have different sorts of perceptions; and yet (as i formerly said) their perceptions are united: for, though all the parts of the human body have different perceptions; yet those different perceptions unite in a general perception, both for the subsistence, consistence, and use of the whole man: but, concerning particulars, not only the several composed figurative parts, have several sorts of perceptions; but every part hath variety of perceptions, occasioned by variety of objects. chap. v. of the several perceptions amongst the several parts of man. there being infinite several corporeal figurative motions, or actions of nature, there must of necessity be infinite several self-knowledges and perceptions: but i shall only, in this part of my book, treat of the perception proper to mankind: and first, of the several and different perceptions, proper for the several and different parts: for, though every part and particle of a man's body, is perceptive; yet, every particular part of a man, is not generally perceived; for, the interior parts do not generally perceive the exterior; nor the exterior, generally or perfectly, the interior; and yet, both interior and exterior corporeal motions, agree as one society; for, every part, or corporeal motion, knows its own office; like as officers in a common-wealth, although they may not be acquainted with each other, yet they know their employments: so every particular man in a common-wealth, knows his own employment, although he knows not every man in the common-wealth. the same do the parts of a man's body, and mind. but, if there be any irregularity, or disorder in a common-wealth, every particular is disturbed, perceiving a disorder in the common-wealth. the same amongst the parts of a man's body; and yet many of those parts do not know the particular cause of that general disturbance. as for the disorders, they may proceed from some irregularities; but for peace, there must be a general agreement, that is, every part must be regular. chap. vi. of divided and composed perceptions. as i have formerly said, there is in nature both divided and composed perceptions; and for proof, i will mention man's exterior perceptions; as for example, man hath a composed perception of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching; whereof every several sort is composed, though after different manners, or ways; and yet are divided, being several sorts of perceptions, and not all one perception. yet again, they are all composed, being united as proper perceptions of one man; and not only so, but united to perceive the different parts of one object: for, as perceptions are composed of parts, so are objects; and as there are different objects, so there are different perceptions; but it is not possible for a man to know all the several sorts of perceptions proper to every composed part of his body or mind, much less of others. chap. vii. of the ignorances of the several perceptive organs. as i said, that every several composed perception, was united to the proper use of their whole society, as one man; yet, every several perceptive organ of man is ignorant of each other; as the perception of sight is ignorant of that of hearing; the perception of hearing, is ignorant of the perception of seeing; and the perception of smelling is ignorant of the perceptions of the other two, and those of scent, and the same of tasting, and touching: also, every perception of every particular organ, is different; but some sorts of human perceptions require some distance between them and the object: as for example, the perception of sight requires certain distances, as also magnitudes; whereas the perception of touch requires a joyning-object, or part. but this is to be noted, that although these several organs are not perfectly, or throughly acquainted; yet in the perception of the several parts of one object, they do all agree to make their several perceptions, as it were by one act, at one point of time. chap. viii. of the particular and general perceptions of the exterior parts of human creatures. there is amongst the exterior perceptions of human creatures, both particular sorts of perceptions, and general perceptions: for, though none of the exterior parts, or organs, have the sense of seeing, but the eyes; of hearing, but the ears; of smelling, but the nose; of tasting, but the mouth: yet all the exterior parts have the perception of touching; and the reason is, that all the exterior parts are full of pores, or at least, of such composed parts, that are the sensible organs of touching: yet, those several parts have several touches; not only because they have several parts, but because those organs of touching, are differently composed. but this is to be noted, that every several part hath perception of the other parts of their society, as they have of foreign parts; and, as the sensitive, so the rational parts have such particular and general perceptions. but it is to be noted, that the rational parts, are parts of the same organs. chap. ix. of the exterior sensitive organs of human creatures. as for the manner, or ways, of all the several sorts, and particular perceptions, made by the different composed parts of human creatures; it is impossible, for a human creature, to know any otherwise, but in part: for, being composed of parts, into parties, he can have but a parted knowledg, and a parted perception of himself: for, every different composed part of his body, have different sorts of self-knowledg, as also, different sorts of perceptions; but yet, the manner and way of some human perceptions, may probably be imagined, especially those of the exterior parts, man names the _sensitive organs_; which parts (in my opinion) have their perceptive actions, after the manner of patterning, or picturing the exterior form, or frame, of foreign objects: as for example, the present object is a candle; the human organ of sight pictures the flame, light, week, or snuff, the tallow, the colour, and the dimension of the candle; the ear patterns out the sparkling noise; the nose patterns out the scent of the candle; and the tongue may pattern out the tast of the candle: but, so soon as the object is removed, the figure of the candle is altered into the present object, or as much of one present object, as is subject to human perception. thus the several parts or properties, may be patterned out by the several organs. also, every altered action, of one and the same organ, are altered perceptions; so as there may be numbers of several pictures or patterns made by the sensitive actions of one organ; i will not say, by one act; yet there may be much variety in one action. but this is to be noted, that the object is not the _cause_ of perception, but is only the _occasion_: for, the sensitive organs can make such like figurative actions, were there no object present; which proves, that the object is not the cause of the perception. also, when as the sensitive parts of the sensitive organs, are irregular, they will make false perceptions of present objects; wherefore the object is not the cause. but one thing i desire, not to be mistaken in; for i do not say, that all the parts belonging to any of the particular organs, move only in one sort or kind of perception; but i say, some of the parts of the organ, move to such, or such perception: for, all the actions of the ears, are not only hearing; and all the actions of the eye, seeing; and all the actions of the nose, smelling; and all the actions of the mouth, tasting; but, they have other sorts of actions: yet, all the sorts of every organ, are according to the property of their figurative composition. chap. x. of the rational parts of the human organs. as for the rational parts of the human organs, they move according to the sensitive parts, which is, to move according to the figures of foreign objects; and their actions are (if regular) at the same point of time, with the sensitive: but, though their actions are alike, yet there is a difference in their degree; for, the figure of an object in the mind, is far more pure than the figure in the sense. but, to prove that the rational (if regular) moves with the sense, is, that all the several sensitive perceptions of the sensitive organs, (as all the several sights, sounds, scents, tasts, and touches) are thoughts of the same. chap. xi. of the difference between the human conception, and perception. there are some differences between perception, and conception: for, perception doth properly belong to present objects; whereas conceptions have no such strict dependency: but, conceptions are not proper to the sensitive organs, or parts of a human creature; wherefore, the sensitive never move in the manner of conception, but after an irregular manner; as when a human creature is in some violent passion, mad, weak, or the like distempers. but this is to be noted, that all sorts of fancies, imaginations, _&c._ whether sensitive, or rational, are after the manner of conceptions, that is, do move by rote, and not by example. also, it is to be noted, that the rational parts can move in more various figurative actions than the sensitive; which is the cause that a human creature hath more conceptions than perceptions; so that the mind can please it self with more variety of thoughts than the sensitive with variety of objects: for variety of objects consists of foreign parts; whereas variety of conceptions consists only of their own parts: also, the sensitive parts are sooner satisfied with the perception of particular objects, than the mind with particular remembrances. chap. xii. of the several varieties of actions of human creatures. to speak of all the several actions of the sensitive and rational parts of one creature, is not possible, being numberless: but, some of those that are most notable, i will mention, as, respirations, digestions, nourishments, appetites, satiety, aversions, conceptions, opinions, fancies, passions, memory, remembrance, reasoning, examining, considering, observing, distinguishing, contriving, arguing, approving, disapproving, discoveries, arts, sciences. the exterior actions are, walking, running, dancing, turning, tumbling, bearing, carrying, holding, striking, trembling, sighing, groaning, weeping, frowning, laughing, speaking, singing and whistling: as for postures, they cannot be well described; only, standing, sitting, and lying. chap. xiii. of the manner of information between the rational and sensitive parts. the manner of information amongst the self-moving parts of a human creature, is after divers and several manners, or ways, amongst the several parts: but, the manner of information between the sensitive and rational parts, is, for the most part, by imitation; as, imitating each other's actions: as for example, the rational parts invent some sciences; the sensitive endeavour to put those sciences into an art. if the rational perceive the sensitive actions are not just, according to that science, they inform the sensitive; then the sensitive parts endeavour to work, according to the directions of the rational: but, if there be some obstruction or hindrance, then the rational and sensitive agree to declare their design, and to require assistance of other associates, which are other men; as also, other creatures. as for the several manners and informations between man and man, they are so ordinary, i shall not need to mention them. chap. xiv. of irregularities and regularities of the self-moving parts of human creatures. nature being poised, there must of necessity be irregularities, as well as regularities, both of the rational and sensitive parts; but when the rational are irregular, and the sensitive regular, the sensitive endeavour to rectifie the errors of the rational. and if the sensitive be irregular, and the rational regular, the rational do endeavour to rectifie the errors of the sensitive: for, the particular parts of a society, are very much assistant to each other; as we may observe by the exterior parts of human bodies; the hands endeavour to assist any part in distress; the leggs will run, the eyes will watch, the ears will listen, for any advantage to the society; but when there is a general irregularity, then the society falls to ruine. chap. xv. of the agreeing, or disagreeing, of the sensitive and rational parts of human creatures. there is, for the most part, a general agreement between the rational and sensitive parts of human creatures; not only in their particular, but general actions; only the rational are the designing-parts; and the sensitive, the labouring parts: as for proof, the mind designs to go to such, or such foreign parts, or places; upon which design the sensitive parts will labour to execute the mind's intention, so as the whole sensitive body labours to go to the designed place, without the mind's further concern: for, the mind takes no notice of every action of the sensitive parts; neither of those of the eyes, ears; or of the leggs, or feet; nor of their perceptions: for, many times, the mind is busied in some conception, imagination, fancy, or the like; and yet the sensitive parts execute the mind's design exactly. but, for better proof, when as the sensitive parts are sick, weak, or defective, through some irregularities, the sensitive parts cannot execute the mind's design: also, when the sensitive parts are careless, they oft mistake their way; or when they are irregularly opposed, or busied about some appetite, they will not obey the mind's desire; all which are different degrees of parts. but, as it is amongst the particular parts of a society; so, many times, between several societies; for, sometimes, the sensitive parts of two men will take no notice of each other: as for example, when two men speak together, one man regards not what the other says; so many times, the sensitive parts regard not the propositions of the rational; but then the sensitive is not perfectly regular. chap. xvi. of the power of the rational; or rather, of the indulgency of the sensitive. the rational corporeal motions, being the purest, most free, and so most active, have great power over the sensitive; as to perswade, or command them to obedience: as for example, when a man is studying about some inventions of poetical fancies, or the like; though the sensitive corporeal motions, in the sensitive organs, desire to desist from patterning of objects, and would move towards sleep; yet the rational will not suffer them, but causes them to work, viz. to write, or to read, or do some other labour: also, when the rational mind is merry, it will cause the leggs to dance, the organs of the voice to sing, the mouth to speak, to eat, to drink, and the like: if the mind moves to sadness, it causes the eyes to weep, the lungs to sigh, the mouth to speak words of complaint. thus the rational corporeal motions of the mind, will occasion the senses to watch, to work, or to sport and play. but mistake me not; for i do not mean, the senses are bound to obey the rational designs; for, the sensitive corporeal motions, have as much freedom of self-moving, as the rational: for, the command of the rational, and the obedience of the sensitive, is rather an agreement, than a constraint: for, in many cases, the sensitive will not agree, and so not obey: also, in many cases, the rational submits to the sensitive: also, the rational sometimes will be irregular; and, on the other side, sometimes the sensitive will be irregular, and the rational regular; and sometimes both irregular. chap. xvii. of human appetites and passions. the sensitive appetites, and the rational passions do so resemble each other, as they would puzzle the most wise philosopher to distinguish them; and there is not only a resemblance, but, for the most part, a sympathetical agreement between the appetites, and the passions; which strong conjunction, doth often occasion disturbances to the whole life of man; with endless desires, unsatiable appetites, violent passions, unquiet humors, grief, pain, sadness, sickness, and the like; through which, man seems to be more restless, than any other creature: but, whether the cause be in the manner, or form of man's composition, or occasioned by some irregularities; i will leave to those who are wiser than i, to judg. but this is to be noted, that the more changes and alterations the rational and sensitive motions make, the more variety of passions and appetites the man hath: also, the quicker the motions are, the sharper appetite, and the quicker wit, man hath. but, as all the human senses are not bound to one organ; so all knowledges are not bound to one sense, no more than all the parts of matter to the composition of one particular creature: but, by some of the rational and sensitive actions, we may perceive the difference of some of the sensitive and rational actions; as, sensitive pain, rational grief; sensitive pleasure, rational delight; sensitive appetite, rational desire; which are sympathetical actions of the rational and sensitive parts: also, through sympathy, rational passions will occasion sensitive appetites; and appetites, the like passions. chap. xviii. of the rational actions of the head and heart of human creatures. as i formerly said, in every figurative part of a human creature, the actions are different, according to the property of their different composers; so that the motions of the heart are different to the motions of the head, and of the other several parts: but, as for the motions of the head, they are (in my opinion) more after the manner of emboss'd figures; and those of the heart, more after the manner of flat figures; like painting, printing, engraving, _&c._ for, if we observe, the thoughts in our heads are different from the thoughts in our hearts. i only name these two parts, by reason they seem to sympathize, or to agree, more particularly to each other's actions, than some of the other parts of human creatures. chap. xix. of passions and imaginations. some sorts of passions seem to be in the heart; as, love, hate, grief, joy, fear, and the like; and all imaginations, fancies, opinions, inventions, _&c._ in the head. but, mistake me not, i do not say, that none of the other parts of a man have not passions and conceptions: but, i say, they are not after the same manner, or way, as in the heart, or head: as for example, every part of a man's body is sensible, yet not after one and the same manner: for, every part of a man's body hath different perceptions, as i have formerly declared, and yet may agree in general actions: but, unless the several composed parts of a human creature, had not several perceptive actions, it were impossible to make a general perception, either amongst the several parts of their own society, or of foreign objects. but, it is impossible for me to describe the different manners and ways of the particular parts, or the different actions of any one part: for, what man can describe the different perceptive actions of that composed part, the eye, and so of the rest of the parts. chap. xx. that associations, divisions, and alterations, cause several effects. the rational and sensitive corporeal motions, are the perceptive parts of nature; and that which causes acquaintance amongst some parts, is their uniting and association: that which loses acquaintance of other parts, is their divisions and alterations: for, as self-compositions cause particular knowledges, or acquaintances: so self-divisions cause particular ignorances, or forgetfulnesses: for, as all kinds and sorts of creatures are produced, nourished, and encreased by the association of parts; so are all kinds and sorts of perceptions; and according as their associations, or their compositions do last, so doth their acquaintance; which is the cause, that the observations and experiences of several and particular creatures, such as men, in several and particular ages, joyned as into one man or age, causes strong and long-liv'd opinions, subtile and ingenious inventions, happy and profitable advantages; as also, probable conjectures, and many truths, of many causes and effects: whereas, the divisions of particular societies, causes what we name death, ignorance, forgetfulness, obscurity of particular creatures, and of perceptive knowledges; so that as particular perceptive knowledges do alter and change, so do particular creatures: for, though the kinds and sorts last, yet the particulars do not. chap. xxi. of the differences between self-love, and passionate love. self-love, is like self-knowledg, which is an innate nature; and therefore is not that love man names passionate love: for, _passionate love_ belongs to several parts; so that the several parts of one society, as one creature, have both passionate love, and self-love, as being sympathetically united in one society: also, not only the parts of one and the same society, may have passionate love to each other; but, between several societies; and not only several societies of one sort, but of different sorts. the sixth part. chap. i. of the motions of some parts of the mind; and of forrein objects. notions, imaginations, conceptions, and the like, are such actions of the mind, as concern not forrein objects: and some notions, imaginations, or conceptions of one man, may be like to another man, or many men. also, the mind of one man may move in the like figurative actions, as the sensitive actions of other sorts of creatures; and that, man names _understanding_: and if those conceptions be afterwards produced, man names them _prudence_, or _fore-sight_; but if those parts move in such inventions as are capable to be put into arts, man names that, _ingenuity_: but, if not capable to be put into the practice of arts, man names it, _sciences_: if those motions be so subtile, that the sensitive cannot imitate them, man names them, _fancies_: but, when those rational parts move promiscuously, as partly after their own inventions, and partly after the manner of forrein or outward objects; man names them, _conjectures_, or _probabilities_: and when there are very many several figurative, rational motions, then man says, _the mind is full of thoughts_: when those rational figurative motions, are of many and different objects, man names them, _experiences_, or _learning_: but, when there are but few different sorts of such figurative motions, man names them _ignorances_. chap. ii. of the motions of some parts of the mind. when the rational figurative corporeal motions of an human creature, take no notice of forrein objects, man nameth that, _musing_, or _contemplating_. and, when the rational parts repeat some former actions, man names that, _remembrances_. but, when those parts alter those repetitions, man names that, _forgetfulness_. and, when those rational parts move, according to a present object, man names it, _memory_. and when those parts divide in divers sorts of actions, man names it, _arguing_, or _disputing in the mind_. and when those divers sorts of actions are at some strife, man names it, _a contradicting of himself_. and if there be a weak strife, man names it, _consideration_. but, when those different figurative motions move of one accord, and sympathetically, this man names, _discretion_. but, when those different sorts of actions move sympathetically, and continue in that manner of action, without any alteration, man names it, _belief, faith_, or _obstinacy_. and when those parts make often changes, as altering their motions, man names it _inconstancy_. when their rational parts move slowly, orderly, equally, and sympathetically, man names it _sobriety_. when all the parts of the mind move regularly, and sympathetically, man names it, _wisdom_. when some parts move partly regularly, and partly irregularly, man names that, _foolishness_, and _simplicity_. when they move generally irregularly, man names it _madness_. chap. iii. of the motions of human passions, and appetites; as also, of the motions of the rational and sensitive parts, towards forrein objects. when some of the rational parts move sympathetically, to some of the sensitive perceptions; and those sensitive parts sympathize to the object, it is _love_. if they move antipathetically to the object, it is _hate_. when those rational and sensitive motions, make many and quick repetitions of those sympathetical actions, it is _desire_ and _appetite_. when those parts move variously, (as concerning the object) but yet sympathetically (concerning their own parts) it is _inconstancy_. when those motions move cross towards the object, and are perturbed, it is _anger_. but when those perturbed motions are in confusion, it is _fear_. when the rational motions are partly sympathetical, and partly antipathetical, it is _hope_, and _doubt_. and if there be more sympathetical motions than antipathetical, there is more _hope_ than _doubt_. if more antipathetical than sympathetical, then more _doubt_ than _hope_. if those rational motions move after a dilating manner, it is _joy_. if after a contracting manner, it is _grief_. when those parts move partly after a contracting, and partly after an attracting manner, as attracting from the object, it is _covetousness_. but, if those motions are sympathetical to the object, and move after a dilating manner towards the object, it is _generosity_. if those motions are sympathetical to the object, and move after the manner of a contraction, it is _pity_ or _compassion_. if those motions move antipathetically towards the object, yet after a dilating manner, it is _pride_. when those motions move sympathetically towards the object, after a dilating manner, it is _admiration_. if the dilating action is not extream, it is only _approving_. if those motions are antipathetical towards the object, and are after the manner of an extream contraction, it is _horror_. but, if those actions are not so extraordinary as to be extream, it is only _disapproving, despising, rejecting_, or _scorning_. if the rational parts move carelesly towards forrein objects, as also partly antipathetically, man nameth it, _ill-nature_. but, if sympathetically and industriously, man nameth it, _good-nature_. but this is to be noted, that there are many sorts of motions of one and the same kind; and many several particular motions, of one sort of motion; which causes some difference in the effects: but, they are so nearly related, that it requires a more subtile observation than i have, to distinguish them. chap. iv. of the repetitions of the sensitive and rational actions. both the rational and sensitive corporeal motions, make often repetitions of one and the same actions: the sensitive repetitions, man nameth, _custom_. the rational repetitions, man nameth, _remembrances_: for, repetitions cause a facility amongst the sensitive parts; but yet, in some repeating actions, the senses seem to be tired, being naturally delighted in variety. also, by the rational repetitions, the mind is either delighted, or displeased; and sometimes, partly pleased, and partly displeased: for, the mind is as much pleased, or displeased in the absence of an object, as in the presence; only the pleasure, and displeasure of the senses, is not joyned with the rational: for, the sense, if regular, makes the most perfect copies when the object is present: but, the rational can make as perfect copies in the absence, as in the presence of the object; which is the cause that the mind is as much delighted, or grieved, in the absence of an object, as with the presence: as for example, a man is as much grieved when he knows his friend is wounded, or dead, as if he had seen his wounds, or had seen him dead: for, the picture of the dead friend, is in the mind of the living friend; and if the dead friend was before his eyes, he could but have his picture in his mind; which is the same for an absent friend alive; only, as i said, there is wanting the sensitive perception of the absent object: and certainly, the parts of the mind have greater advantage than the sensitive parts; for, the mind can enjoy that which is not subject to the sense; as those things man names, _castles in the air_, or _poetical fancies_; which is the reason man can enjoy worlds of its own making, without the assistance of the sensitive parts; and can govern and command those worlds; as also, dissolve and compose several worlds, as he pleases: but certainly, as the pleasures of the rational parts are beyond those of the sensitive, so are their troubles. chap. v. of the passionate love, and sympathetical endeavours, amongst the associate parts of a human creature. in every regular human society, there is a passionate love amongst the associated parts, like fellow-students of one colledg, or fellow-servants in one house, or brethren in one family, or subjects in one nation, or communicants in one church: so the self-moving parts of a human creature, being associated, love one another, and therefore do endeavour to keep their society from dissolving. but perceiving, by the example of the lives of the same sort of creatures, that the property of their nature is such, that they must dissolve in a short time, this causes these human sorts of creatures, (being very ingenuous) to endeavour an after-life: but, perceiving again, that their after-life cannot be the same as the present life is, they endeavour (since they cannot keep their own society from dissolving) that their society may remain in remembrance amongst the particular and general societies of the same sort of creatures, which we name mankind: and this design causes all the sensitive and rational parts, in one society, to be industrious, to leave some mark for a lasting remembrance, amongst their fellow-creatures: which general remembrance, man calls _fame_; for which _fame_, the rational parts are industrious to design the manner and way, and the sensitive parts are industrious to put those designs in execution; as, their inventions, into arts or sciences; or to cause their heroick or prudent, generous or pious actions; their learning, or witty fancies, or subtile conceptions, or their industrious observations, or their ingenious inventions, to be set in print; or their exterior effigies to be cast, cut, or engraven in brass, or stone, or to be painted; or they endeavour to build houses, or cut rivers, to bear their names; and millions of other marks, for remembrance, they are industrious to leave to the perception of after-ages: and many men are so desirous of this after-life, that they would willingly quit their present life, by reason of its shortness, to gain this after-life, because of the probability of a long continuance; and not only to live so in many several ages, but in many several nations. and amongst the number of those that prefer a long after-life, before a short present life, i am one. but, some men dispute against these desires, saying, that _it doth a man no good to be remembred when he is dead_. i answer: it is very pleasing, whilst as man lives, to have in his mind, or in his sense, the effigies of the person, and of the good actions of his friend, although he cannot have his present company. also, it is very pleasant to any body to believe, that the effigies either of his own person, or actions, or both, are in the mind of his friend, when he is absent from him; and, in this case, absence and death are much alike. but, in short, god lives no other ways amongst his creatures, but in their rational thoughts, and sensitive worship. chap. vi. of acquaintance. as there are perceptive acquaintances amongst the parts of a human creature; so there is a perceptive acquaintance between, or amongst the human sorts of creatures. but, mistake me not; for i do not say, men only are acquainted with each other; for, there is not only an acquaintance amongst every particular sort, as between one and the same sort of creatures, but there are some acquaintances between some sorts of different kinds: as for example, between some sorts of beasts, and men; as also, some sorts of birds, and men, which understand each other, i will not say, so well as man and man; but so well, as to understand each other's passions: but certainly, every particular sort of creatures, of one and the same kind, understand each other, as well as men understand one another; and yet, for all that, they may be unacquainted: for, acquaintance proceeds from association; so that, some men, and some beasts, by association, may be acquainted with each other; when as some men, not associating, are meer strangers. the truth is, acquaintance belongs rather to particularities, than generalities. chap. vii. of the effects of forrein objects of the sensitive body; and of the rational mind of a human creature. according as the rational parts are affected, or disaffected with forrein objects, the sensitive is apt to express the like affections, or disaffections: for, most forrein objects occasion either pleasure and delight, or displeasure and dislike: but, the effects of forrein objects are very many, and, many times very different; as, some objects of devotion, occasion a fear, or superstition, and repentance in the mind; and the mind occasions the sensitive parts to several actions, as, praying, acknowledging faults, begging pardon, making vows, imploring mercy, and the like, in words: also, the body bows, the knees bend, the eyes weep, the hands hold up, and many the like devout actions. other sorts of objects occasion pity and compassion in the mind, which occasions the sensitive parts to attend the sick, relieve the poor, help the distressed, and many more actions of compassion. other sorts of forrein objects, occasion the rational mind to be dull and melancholy; and then the sensitive parts are dull, making no variety of appetites, or regard forrein objects. other sorts of objects occasion the mind to be vain and ambitious, and often to be proud; and those occasion the sensitive actions to be adventurous and bold; the countenance of the face, scornful; the garb of the body, stately; the words, vaunting, boasting, or bragging. other objects occasion the mind to be furious; and then the sensitive actions are, cursing words, frowning countenances, the leggs stamping, the hands and arms fighting, and the whole body in a furious posture. other sorts of objects occasion the mind to a passionate love; and then the sensitive actions are, flattering, professing, protesting in words, the countenance smiling, the eyes glancing; also, the body bows, the leggs scrape, the mouth kisses: also, the hands mend their garments, and do many of the like amorous actions. other objects occasion the mind to valour; and then the sensitive actions are, daring, encouraging, or animating. other objects occasion the mind to mirth, or cheerfulness; and they occasion the sensitive actions of the voice, to sing, or laugh; the words to be jesting, the hands to be toying, the leggs to be dancing. other sorts of objects occasion the mind to be prudent; and then the sensitive actions, are sparing or frugal. other sorts of objects occasion the mind to be envious, or malicious; and then the sensitive actions are mischievous. there are great numbers of occasional actions, but these are sufficient to prove, _that sense and reason understand each other's actions or designs_. chap. viii. of the advantage and disadvantage of the encounters of several creatures. there is a strong sympathy between the rational and sensitive parts, in one and the same society, or creature: not only for their consistency, subsistency, use, ease, pleasure, and delight; but, for their safety, guard, and defence: as for example, when one creature assaults another, then all the powers, faculties, properties, ingenuities, agilities, proportions, and shape, of the parts of the assaulted, unite against the assaulter, in the defence of every particular part of their whole society; in which encounter, the rational advises, and the sensitive labours. but this is to be noted concerning advantage and disadvantage in such encounters, that some sorts of creatures have their advantage in the exterior shape, others meerly in the number of parts; others in the agility of their parts, and some by the ingenuity of their parts: but, for the most part, the greater number have advantage over the less, if the greater number of parts be as regular, and as ingenious as the less number: but, if the less number be more regular, and more ingenious than the greater, then 'tis a hundred to one but the less number of parts have the advantage. chap. ix. that all human creatures have the like kinds and sorts of properties. all human creatures have the like kinds and sorts of properties, faculties, respirations, and perceptions; unless some irregularities in the production, occasion some imperfections, or some misfortunes, in some time of his age: yet, no man knows what another man perceives, but by guess, or information of the party: but, as i said, if they have have no imperfections, all human creatures have like properties, faculties, and perceptions: as for example, all human eyes may see one and the same object alike; or hear the same tune, or sound; and so of the rest of the senses. they have also the like respirations, digestions, appetites; and the like may be said of all the properties belonging to a human creature. but, as one human creature doth not know what another human creature knows, but by confederacy; so, no part of the body, or mind of a man, knows each part's perceptive knowledg, but by confederacy: so that, there is as much ignorance amongst the parts of nature, as knowledg. but this is to be noted, that there are several manners and ways of intelligences, not only between several sorts of creatures, or amongst particulars of one sort of creatures; but, amongst the several parts of one and the same creature. chap. x. of the irregularity of the sensitive, and of the rational corporeal motions. as i have often mentioned, and do here again repeat, that the rational and sensitive parts of one society, or creature, do understand, as perceiving each other's self-moving parts; and the proof is, that, sometimes, the human sense is regular, and the human reason irregular; and sometimes the reason regular, and the sense irregular: but, in these differences, the regular parts endeavour to reform the irregular; which causes, many times, repetitions of one and the same actions, and examinations; as, sometimes the reason examines the sense; and sometimes the sense, the reason: and sometimes the sense and reason do examine the object; for, sometimes an object will delude both the sense and reason; and sometimes the sense and reason are but partly mistaken: as for example, a fired end of a stick, by a swift exterior circular motion, appears a circle of fire, in which they are not deceived: for, by the exterior motion, the fired end is a circle; but they are mistaken, to conceive the exterior figurative action to be the proper natural figure: but when one man mistakes another, that is some small error, both of the sense and reason. also, when one man cannot readily remember another man, with whom he had formerly been acquainted, it is an error; and such small errors, the sense and reason do soon rectifie: but in causes of high irregularities, as in madness, sickness, and the like, there is a great bustle amongst the parts of a human creature; so as those disturbances cause unnecessary fears, grief, anger, and strange imaginations. chap. xi. of the knowledg between the sensitive organs of a human creature. the sensitive organs are only ignorant of each other, as they are of forrein objects: for, as all the parts of forrein objects, are not subject to one sensitive organ; so all the sensitive organs are not subject to each sensitive organ of a human creature: yet, in the perceptive actions of forrein objects, they do so agree, that they make an united knowledg: thus we may be particularly ignorant one way, and yet have a general knowledg another way. chap. xii. of human perception, or defects of a human creature. it is not the great quantity of brain, that makes a man wise; nor a little quantity, that makes a man foolish: but, the irregular, or regular rational corporeal motions of the head, heart, and the rest of the parts, that causes dull understandings, short memories, weak judgments, violent passions, extravagant imaginations, wild fancies, and the like. the same must be said of the sensitive irregular corporeal motions, which make weakness, pain, sickness, disordered appetites, and perturbed perceptions, and the like: for, nature poysing her actions by opposites, there must needs be irregularities, as well as regularities; which is the cause that seldom any creature is so exact, but there is some exception. but, when the sensitive and rational corporeal motions are regular, and move sympathetically, then the body is healthful and strong, the mind in peace and quiet, understands well, and is judicious: and, in short, there are perfect perceptions, proper digestions, easie respirations, regular passions, temperate appetites. but when the rational corporeal motions are curious in their change of actions, there are subtile conceptions, and elevated fancies: and when the sensitive corporeal motions move with curiosity, (as i may say) then there are perfect senses, exact proportions, equal temperaments; and that, man calls _beauty_. chap. xiii. of natural fools. there is great difference between a natural fool, and a mad man: for, madness is a disease, but a natural fool is a defect; which defect was some error in his production, that is, in the form and frame either of the mind, or sense, or both; for, the sense may be a natural fool as well as the reason; as we may observe in those sorts of fools whom we name _changelings_, whose body is not only deformed, but all the postures of the body are defective, and appear as so many fools: but sometimes, only some parts are fools; as for example; if a man be born blind, then only his eyes are fools; if deaf, then only his ears are fools, which occasions his dumbness; ears being the informing parts, to speak; and wanting those informations, he cannot speak a language. also, if a man is born lame, his leggs are fools; that is, those parts have no knowledg of such properties that belong to such parts; but the sensitive parts may be wise, as being knowing; and the rational parts may be defective; which defects, man names _irrational_. but this is to be noted, that there may be natural and accidental fools, by some extraordinary frights, or by extraordinary sickness, or through the defects of old age. as for the errors of production, they are incurable; as also, those of old age; the first being an error in the very foundation, and the other a decay of the whole frame of the building: for, after a human creature is brought to that perfection, as to be, as we may say, at full growth and strength, at the prime of his age; the human motions, and the very nature of man, after that time, begins to decay; for then the human motions begin to move rather to the dissolution, than to the continuance; although some men last to very old age, by reason the unity of their society is regular and orderly, and moves so sympathetically, as to commit few or no disorders, or irregularities; and such old men are, for the most part, healthful, and very wise, through long experience; and their society having got a habit of regularity, is not apt to be disturbed by forrein parts. but this is to be noted, that sometimes the sensitive body decays, before the rational mind; and sometimes the rational mind, before the sensitive body. also, this is to be noted, that when the body is defective, but not the mind; then the mind is very industrious to find out inventions of art, to help the defects that are natural. but pray mistake me not; for i do not say, that _all_ deformities, or defects, but only _some_ particular sorts of deformity, or defects, are foolish. the seventh part. chap. i. of the sensitive actions of sleeping and waking. the sensitive and rational corporeal figurative motions, are the cause of infinite varieties: for, though repetitions make no varieties; yet, every altered action is a variety: also, different actions, make different effects; opposite actions, opposite effects; not only of the actions of the several self-moving parts, or corporeal motions, but of the same parts: as for example, the same parts, or corporeal motions, may move from that, man names _life_, to that which man names _death_; or, from health to sickness, from ease to pain, from memory to forgetfulness, from forgetfulness to remembrance, from love to hate, from grief to joy, from irregularity to regularity; or, from regularity to irregularity, and the like; and from one perception to another: for, though all actions are perceptive, yet there are several kinds, several sorts, and several particular perceptions: but, amongst the several corporeal motions of animal, or human kind, there are the opposite motions of what we name _waking_, and _sleeping_; the difference is, that waking-actions are, most commonly, actions of imitation, especially of the sensitive parts; and are more the exterior, than the interior actions of a human creature. but, the actions of sleep, are the alterations of the exterior corporeal motions, moving more interiorly, as it were inwardly, and voluntarily: as for example, the optick corporeal motions, in waking-actions, work, or move, according to the outward object: but, in sleeping-actions, they move by rote, or without examples; also, as i said, they move, as it were, inwardly; like as a man should turn himself inward, or outward, of a door, without removing from the door, or out of the place he stood in. chap. ii. of sleeping. although the rational and sensitive corporeal motions, can never be tired, or weary of moving or acting, by reason it is their nature to be a perpetual corporeal motion; yet they may be weary, or tired with particular actions. also, it is easier and more delightful, to move by rote, than to take copies, or patterns; which is the reason that sleep is easie and gentle, if the corporeal motions be regular; but if they be irregular, sleep is perturbed. but this is to be noted, that the corporeal motions delight in varieties so well, that, many times, many and various objects will cause the sensitive and rational corporeal motions in a man, to retard their actions of sleep; and, oft-times, want of variety of forrein or outward objects, will occasion the action of sleep; or else musing and contemplating actions. also, it is to be noted, that if some parts of the body, or mind, be distempered with irregularities, it occasions such disturbances to the whole, as hinders that repose; but if the regular parts endeavour not to be disturbed with the irregular; and the irregulars do disturb the regular; then it occasions that which man names, _half-sleeps_, or _slumbers_, or _drowsiness_. and if the regular corporeal motions get the better, (as many times they do) then we say, sleep hath been the occasion of the cure; and it oft proves so. and it is a common saying, _that a good sleep will settle the spirits_, or ease the pains; that is, when the regular corporeal motions have had the better of the irregular. chap. iii. of human dreams. there are several kinds, sorts, and particulars of corporeal irregularities, as well as of regularities; and amongst the infinite kinds, sorts, and particulars, there is that of human dreams; for, the exterior corporeal motions in waking-actions, do copy or pattern outward objects; whereas, in actions of sleep, they act by rote, which, for the most part, is erronious, making mixt figures of several objects; as, partly like a beast; and partly, like a bird, or fish; nay, sometimes, partly like an animal, and partly like a vegetable; and millions of the like extravagancies; yet, many times, dreams will be as exact as if a man was awake, and the objects before him; but, those actions by rote, are more often false than true: but, if the self-moving parts move after their own inventions, and not after the manner of copying; or, if they move not after the manner of human perception, then a man is as ignorant of his dreams, or any human perception, as if he was in a swound; and then he says, he did not dream; and, that such sleeps are like death. chap. iv. of the actions of dreams. when the figures of those friends and acquaintants that have been dead a long time, are made in our sleep, we never, or seldom question the truth of their being alive, though we often question them how they came to be alive: and the reason that we make no doubt of their being alive, is, that those corporeal motions of sleep, make the same pattern of that object in sleep, as when that object was present, and patterned awake; so as the picture in sleep seems to be the original awake: and until such times that the corporeal motions alter their sleeping-actions to waking-actions, the truth is not known. though sleeping and dreaming, is somewhat after the manner of forgetfulness and remembrance; yet, perfect dreams are as perceptive as waking-patterns of present objects; which proves, that both the sensitive and rational motions, have sleeping actions; but both the sensitive and rational corporeal actions in sleep, moving partly by rote, and partly voluntarily, or by invention, make walking-woods, or woodden men; or make warrs and battels, where some figures of men are kill'd, or wounded, others have victory: they also make thieves, murderers, falling houses, great fires, floods, tempests, high mountains, great precipices; and sometimes pleasant dreams of lovers, marriage, dancing, banquetting, and the like: and the passions in dreams are as real, as in waking actions. chap. v. whether the interior parts of a human creature, do sleep. the parts of my mind were in dispute, whether the interior parts of a human creature, had sleeping and waking actions? the major part was of opinion, that sleep was not proper to those human parts, because the interior motions were not like the exterior. the opinion of the minor part was, that change of action, is like ease after labour; and therefore it was probable, the interior parts had sleeping and waking actions. the opinion of the major parts, was, that if those parts, as also the food received into the body, had sleeping actions, the body could not be nourished; for, the meat would not be digested into the like parts of the body, by reason sleeping actions were not such sorts of actions. the opinion of the minor parts was, that the sleeping actions were nourishing actions, and therefore were most proper for the interior parts; and, for proof, the whole human body becomes faint and weak, when they are hindred, either by some interior irregularity, or through some exterior occasion, from their sleeping actions. the opinion of the major part, was, that sleeping actions are actions of rote, and not such altering actions as digesting actions, and nourishing actions, which are uniting actions. besides, that the reason why the interior actions are not sleeping actions, was, that when the exterior parts move in the actions of sleep, the interior parts move when the exterior are awake; as may be observed by the human pulse, and human respiration; and by many other observations which may be brought. chap. vi. whether all the creatures in nature, have sleeping and waking actions. some may ask this question, _whether all creatures have sleeping actions?_ i answer, that though sleeping actions are proper to human creatures, as also, to most animal creatures; yet, such actions may not any ways be proper to other kinds and sorts of creatures: and if (as in all probability it is) that the exterior parts of a human creature have no such sleeping actions, it is probable that other kinds and sorts of creatures move not at any time, in such sorts of actions. but some may say, _that if nature is poysed, all creatures must have sleeping actions, as well as waking actions_. i answer, that though nature's actions are poysed, yet that doth not hinder the variety of nature's actions, so as to tye nature to particular actions: as for example, the exterior parts of animals have both sleeping and waking actions; yet that doth not prove, that therefore all the parts or creatures in nature, must have sleeping and waking actions. the same may be said of all the actions of an animal creature, or of a human creature; nay, of all the creatures of the world: for, several kinds and sorts of creatures, have several kinds and sorts of properties: wherefore, if there be other kinds and sorts of worlds besides this, 'tis probable that those worlds, and all the parts, or several kinds and sorts of creatures there, have different properties and actions, from those of this world; so that though nature's actions are poysed and balanced, yet they are poysed and balanced after different manners and ways. chap. vii. of human death. _death_ is not only a general alteration of the sensitive and rational motions, but a general dissolution of their society. and as there are degrees of time in productions, so in dissolutions. and as there are degrees to perfection, as from infancy to manhood; so there are degrees from manhood to old age. but, as i said, _death_ is a general dissolution, which makes a human creature to be no more: yet, some parts do not dissolve so soon as others; as for example, human bones; but, though the form or frame of bones is not dissolved; yet the properties: of those bones are altered. the same when a human creature is kept by art from dissolving, so as the form, or frame, or shape may continue; but all the properties are quite altered; though the exterior shape of such bodies doth appear somewhat like a man, yet that shape is not a man. chap. viii. of the heat of human life, and the cold of human death. there are not only several sorts of properties belonging to several sorts of creatures, but several sorts of properties belonging to one and the same sort of creature; and amongst the several sorts of human properties, human heat is one, which man names _natural heat_: but, when there is a general alteration of the human properties, there is that alteration of the property as well of his natural, as human heat: but, natural heat is not the cause of human life, though human life is the cause of that natural heat: so that, when human life is altered or dissolved, human heat is altered or dissolved: and as death is opposite actions to that man names _life_; so cold is opposite actions to that man names _heat_. chap. ix. of the last act of human life. the reason some human creatures dye in more pain than others, is, that the motions of some human creatures are in strife, because some would continue their accustomed actions, others would alter their accustomed actions; which strife causes irregularities, and those irregularities cause differences, or difficulties, which causes pain: but certainly, the last act of human life is easie; not only that the expulsive actions of human respirations, are more easie than the attracting actions; but, that in the last act of human life, all the motions do generally agree in one action. chap. x. whether a human creature hath knowledg in death, or not? some may ask the question, _whether a dead man hath any knowledg or perception?_ i answer, that a dead man hath not a human knowledg or perception; yet all, and every part, hath knowledg and perception: but, by reason there is a general alteration of the actions of the parts of a human creature, there cannot possibly be a human knowledg or perception. but some may say, that a man in a swound hath a general alteration of human actions; and yet those parts of a human creature do often repeat those former actions, and then a man is as he was before he was in that swound. i answer, that the reason why a man in a swound hath not the same knowledg as when he is not in a swound, is, that the human motions are not generally altered, but only are generally irregular; which makes such a disturbance, that no part can move so regularly, as to make proper perceptions; as in some sorts of distempers, a man may be like a natural fool; in others, he may be mad; and is subject to many several distempers, which cause several effects: but a human swound is somewhat like sleeping without dreaming; that is, the exterior senses do not move to human exterior perception. chap. xi. whether a creature may be new formed, after a general dissolution. some may ask the question, _whether a human creature, or any other creature, after their natural properties are quite altered, can be repeated, and rechanged, to those properties that formerly were?_ i answer, yes, in case none of the fundamental figurative parts be dissolved. but some may ask, _that if those dissolved parts were so inclosed in other bodies, that none of them could easily disperse or wander; whether they might not joyn into the same form and figure again, and have the same properties?_ i answer, i cannot tell well how to judg; but i am of the opinion, they cannot: for, it is the property of all such productions, to be performed by degrees, and that there should be a dividing and uniting of parts, as an intercourse of home and forrein parts; and so there is requir'd all the same parts, and every part of the same society, or that had any adjoining actions with that particular creature; as all those parts, or corporeal motions, that had been from the first time of production, to the last of the dissolving; and that could not be done without a confusion in nature. but some may say, _that although the same creature could not be produced after the same manner, nor return to the degree of his infancy, and pass the degrees from his infancy, to some degree of age; yet, those parts that are together, might so joyn, and move, in the same manner, as to be the same creature it was before its dissolution?_ i answer, it may not be impossible: but yet, it is very improbable, that such numerous sorts of motions, after so general an alteration, should so generally agree in an unnatural action. chap. xii. of foreknowledg. i have had some disputes amongst the parts of my mind, _whether nature hath foreknowledg?_ the opinion of the minor parts was, that nature had foreknowledg, by reason all that was material, was part of her self; and those self-parts having self-motion, she might foreknow what she would act, and so what they should know. the opinion of the major parts was, that by reason every part had self-motion, and natural free-will, nature could not foreknow how they would move, although she might know how they have moved, or how they do move. after this dispute was ended, then there was a dispute, _whether the particular parts had a foreknowledg of self-knowledg?_ the opinion of the minor parts was, that since every part in nature had self-motion, and natural free-will, every part could know how they should move, and so what they should know. the opinion of the major parts was, that first, the self-knowledg did alter according to self-action, amongst the self-moving parts: but, the self-knowledg of the inanimate parts, did alter according to the actions of the sensitive self-moving parts; and the perceptive actions of the self-moving parts, were according to the form and actions of the objects: so that foreknowledg of forein parts, or creatures, could not be: and for foreknowledg of self-knowledg of the self-moving parts, there were so many occasional actions, that it was impossible the self-moving parts could know how they should move, by reason that no part had an absolute power, although they were self-moving, and had a natural free-will: which proves, that prophesies are somewhat of the nature of dreams, whereof some may prove true by chance; but, for the most part, they are false. the eighth part. chap. i. of the irregularity of nature's parts. some may make this question, that, _if nature were self-moving, and had free-will, it is probable that she would never move her parts so irregularly, as to put her self to pain._ i answer, first, that nature's parts move themselves, and are not moved by any agent. secondly, though nature's parts are self-moving, and self-knowing, yet they have not an infinite or uncontrolable power; for, several parts, and parties, oppose, and oft-times obstruct each other; so that many times they are forced to move, and they may not when they would. thirdly, some parts may occasion other parts to be irregular, and keep themselves in a regular posture. lastly, nature's fundamental actions are so poysed, that irregular actions are as natural as regular. chap. ii. of the human parts of a human creature. the form of man's exterior and interior parts, are so different, and so numerous; that i cannot describe them, by reason i am not so learned to know them: but, some parts of a human creature, man names _vital_; because, the least disturbance of any of those parts, endangers the human life: and if any of those vital parts are diminished, i doubt whether they can be restored; but if some of those parts can be restored, i doubt all cannot. the vital parts are, the heart, liver, lungs, stomack, kidneys, bladder, gaul, guts, brains, radical humours, or vital spirits; and others which i know not of. but this is to be noted, that man is composed of rare and solid parts, of which there are more and less solid, more and less rare; as also, different sorts of solid, and different sorts of rare: also, different sorts of soft and hard parts; likewise, of fixt and loose parts; also, of swift and slow parts. i mean by fixt, those that are more firmly united. chap. iii. of human humours. _humours_ are such parts, that some of them may be divided from the whole body, without danger to the whole body; so that they are somewhat like excremental parts, which excremental parts, are the superfluous parts: for, though the humours be so necessary, that the body could not well subsist without them; yet, a superfluity of them is as dangerous, (if not more) as a scarcity. but there are many sorts of humours belonging to a human creature, although man names but four, according to the four elements, _viz. flegm, choler, melancholy_, and _blood_: but, in my opinion, there are not only several sorts of _choler, flegm, melancholy_, and _blood_; but other sorts that are none of these four. chap. iv. of blood. i have heard, that the opinions of the most learned men, are, that all animal creatures have blood, or at least, such juyces that are in lieu of blood; which blood, or juyces, move circularly: for my part, i am too ignorant to dispute with learned men; but yet i am confident, a _moth_ (which is a sort of worm, or fly, that eats cloth) hath no blood, no, nor any juyce; for, so soon as it is touched, it dissolves straight to a dry dust, or like ashes. and there are many other animals, or insects, that have no appearance of blood; therefore the life of an animal doth not consist of blood: and as for the circulation of blood, there are many animal creatures that have not proper vessels, as veins and arteries, or any such gutters, for their blood, or juyce, to circulate through. but, say the blood of man, or of such like animal, doth circulate; then it is to be studied, whether the several parts of the blood do intermix with each other, as it flows; or, whether it flows as water seems to do; where the following parts may be as great strangers to the leading parts, as in a crowd of people, where some of those behind, do not know those that are before: but, if the blood doth not intermix as it flows, then it will be very difficult for a chyrurgion, or physician, to find where the ill blood runs: besides, if the blood be continually flowing, when a sick man is to be let blood, before the vein is opened, the bad blood may be past that part, or vein, and so only the good blood will be let out; and then the man may become worse than if he had not been let blood. chap. v. of the radical humours, or parts. there are many parts in a human body, that are as the foundation of a house; and being the foundation, if any of those parts be removed or decayed, the house immediately falls to ruine. these fundamental parts, are those we name the _vital parts_; amongst which are those parts we name the _vital_ and _radical spirits_, which are the oyl and flame of a human creature, causing the body to have that we name a _natural heat_, and a _radical moisture_. but it is to be noted, that these parts, or corporeal motions, are not like gross oyl, or flame: for, i believe, there are more differences between those flames, and ordinary flames, than between the light of the sun, and the flame of a tallow candle; and as much difference between this oyl, and the greasie oyl, as between the purest essence, and lamp-oyl. but, these vital parts are as necessary to the human life, as the solid vital parts, viz. the heart, liver, lungs, brains, and the like. chap. vi. of expelling malignant disorders in a human creature. expelling of poyson, or any malignity in the body, is, when that malignity hath not got, or is not setled into the vital parts; so that the regular motions of the vital parts, and other parts of the body, endeavour to defend themselves from the forrein malignancies; which if they do, then the malignant motions do dilate to the exterior parts, and issue out of those exterior passages, at least, through some; as, either by the way of purging, vomiting, sweating, or transpiration, which is a breathing through the pores, or other passages. after the same manner is the expelling of surfeits, or superfluities of natural humours: but, if the malignity or surfeit, superfluity or superfluous humours, have the better, (as i may say) then those irregular motions, by their disturbances, cause the regular motions to be irregular, and to follow the mode; which is, to imitate strangers, or the most powerful; the most fantastical, or the most debauch'd: for it is, many times, amongst the interior motions of the body, as with the exterior actions of men. chap. vii. of human digestions and evacuations. to treat of the several particular digestive actions of a human creature, is impossible: for, not only every part of food hath a several manner of digestive action; but, every action in transpiration, is a sort of digestion and evacuation: so that, though every sort of digestion and evacuation, may be ghest at; yet, every particular is not so known, that it can be described. but this is to be noted, that there is no creature that hath digestive motions, but hath evacuating motions; which actions, although they are but dividing, and uniting; yet they are such different manners and ways of uniting and dividing, that the most observing man cannot particularly know them, and so not express them: but, the uniting actions, if regular, are the nourishing actions; the dividing actions, if regular, are the cleansing actions: but if irregular, the uniting actions are the obstructive actions; and the dividing actions, the destructive actions. chap. viii. of diseases in general. there are many sorts of human diseases; yet, all sorts of diseases are irregular corporeal motions; but, every sort of motion is of a different figure: so that, several diseases are different irregular figurative motions; and according as the figurative motions vary, so do the diseases: but, as there are human diseases, so there are human defects; which defects (if they be those which man names _natural_) cannot be rectified by any human means. also, there are human decays, and old age; which, although they cannot be prevented, or avoided; yet, they may, by good order, and wise observations, be retarded: but there are not only numerous sorts of diseases, but every particular it self, and every particular sort, are more or less different; insomuch, that seldom a disease of one and the same sort, is just alike, but there are some differences; as in men, who though they be all of one sort of animal-kind, yet seldom any two men are just alike: and the same may be said of diseases both of body and mind; as for example, concerning irregular minds, as in mad-men; although all mad-men are mad, yet not mad alike; though they all have the disease either of sensitive or rational madness, or are both sensitively and rationally mad. also, this is to be noted, that as several diseases may be produced from several causes, so several diseases from one: cause, and one disease from several causes; which is the cause that a physician ought to be a long and subtile observer and practiser, before he can arrive to that experience which belongs to a good physician. chap. ix. of the fundamental diseases. there are numerous sorts of diseases, to which human creatures are subject; and yet there are but few fundamental maladies; which are these as follow; pain, sickness, weakness, dizziness, numbness, deadness, madness, fainting and swounding; of which one is particular, the rest are general: the particular is sickness, to which no parts of the body are subject, but the stomack: for, though any parts of the body may have pain, numbness, dizziness, weakness, or madness; yet in no part can be that which we name sickness, but the stomack. as for dizziness, the effects are general, as may be observed in some drunken men: for, many times, the head will be in good temper, when the leggs (i cannot say, are dizzie, yet) will be so drunk, as neither to go or stand; and many times the tongue will be so drunk, as not to speak plain, when all the rest of the body is well temper'd; at least so well, as not to be any ways perceived, but by the tripping of their speech: but, as i said, no part is subject to be sick, but the stomack: and though there are numerous sorts of pains to which every part is subject, and every several part hath a several pain; yet they are still pain. but some may say, _that there are also several sorts of sicknesses_. i grant it; but yet those several sorts of sicknesses, belong only to the stomack, and to no other part of the body. the ninth part. chap. i. of sickness. to go on as orderly as i can, i will treat of the fundamental diseases, and first of _sickness_, by reason it is the most particular disease: for though, as i have said, no part of a human creature is subject to that disease, (namely, _sickness_) but the stomack; yet, there are different sorts of sicknesses of the stomack; as for example, some sorts of sickness is like the flowing and ebbing of the sea: for, the humours of the stomack agitate in that manner, as, if the flowing motions flow upwards, it occasions vomiting; if downwards, purging: if the humours divide, as, partly to flow upwards, and partly downwards, it occasions both vomiting and purging. but the question is, _whether it is the motion of the humours, that occasions the stomack to be sick; or the sickness of the stomack, that occasions the humours to flow?_ i answer: that 'tis probable, that sometimes the flowing of the humours causes the stomack to be sick; and sometimes the sickness of the stomack occasions the humours to flow; and sometimes the stomack will be sick without the flowing of humours, as when the stomack is empty; and sometimes the humours will flow, without any disturbance to the stomack; and sometimes both the humours and the stomack do jointly agree in irregularities: but, as i said, there are several sorts of sicknesses of the stomack, or at least, that sickness doth produce several sorts of effects; as, for example, some sorts of sickness will occasion faint and cold sweats; which sick motion is not flowing up or down of the humours; but it is a cold dilatation, or rarifying, after a breathing manner; also expelling of those rarified parts through the pores: other sorts of motions of the humours, are like boyling motions, viz. bubling motions; which occasion steaming or watry vapours, to ascend to the head; which vapours are apt to cloud the perception of sight. other sorts of sick motions, are circular, and those cause a swimming, or a dizzie motion in the head, and sometimes a staggering motion in the leggs. other sorts of sick motions are occasioned through tough and clammy humours, the motion of which humours, is a winding or turning in such a manner, that it removes not from its center; and until such time as that turning or winding motions alter, or the humour is cast out of the stomack, the patient finds little or no ease. chap. ii. of pain. as i said, no part is subject to be sick, but the stomack; but every several part of a human creature, is subject to pain; and not only so, but every particular part is subject to several sorts of pain; and every several sort of pain, hath a several figurative motion: but to know the different figurative motions, will require a subtile observation: for, though those painful parts, know their own figurative motions; yet, the whole creature (suppose _man_) doth not know them. but it may be observed, whether they are caused by irregular contractions or attractions, dilatations or retentions, expulsions or irregular pressures and re-actions, or irregular transformations, or the like; and by those observations, one may apply, or endeavour to apply proper remedies: but all pain proceeds from irregular and perturbed motions. chap. iii. of dizziness. i cannot say, _dizziness_ belongs only to the head of an animal creature, because we may observe, by irregular drinkers, that sometimes the leggs will seem more drunk than their heads; and sometimes all the parts of their body will seem to be temperate, as being regular, but only the tongue seems to be drunk: for, staggering of the leggs, and a staggering of the tongue, or the like, in a drunken distemper, is a sort of dizziness, although not such a sort as that which belongs to the head; so that, when a man is dead-drunk, we may say, that every part of the body is _dizzily drunk_. but mistake me not; for i do not mean, that all sorts of dizzinesses proceed from drinking; i only bring drunkenness for an example: but, the effects of dizziness of the head, and other parts of the body, proceed from different causes; for, some proceed from wind, not wine; others from vapour; some from the perception of some forrein object; and numbers of the like examples may be found. but this is to be noted, that all such sorts of swimming and dizziness in the head, are produced from circular figurative motions. also it is to be noted, that many times the rational corporeal motions are irregular with the sensitive, but not always: for, sometimes in these and the like distempers, the sensitive will be irregular, and the rational regular; but, for the most part, the rational is so compliant with the sensitive, as to be regular, or irregular, as the sensitive is. chap. iv. of the brain seeming to turn round in the head. when the human brain seems to turn round, the cause is, that some vapours do move in a circular figure, which causes the head to be dizzy; as when a man turns round, not only his head will be dizzy, but all the exterior parts of his body; insomuch that some, by often turning round, will fall down; but if, before they fall, they turn the contrary way, they will be free from that dizziness: the reason of which is, that, by turning the contrary way, the body is brought to the same posture it was before; as, when a man hath travell'd some way, and returns the same way back, he returns to the place where first he began his journey. chap. v. of weakness. there are many sorts of _weakness_; some weakness proceeds from age; others, through want of food; others are occasioned by oppression; others, by disorders and irregularities; and so many other sorts, that it would be too tedious to repeat them, could i know them: but, such sorts of weakness, as human creatures are subject to, after some disease or sickness, are somewhat like weariness after a laborious or over-hard action; as, when a man hath run fast, or laboured hard, he fetches his breath short and thick; and as most of the sensitive actions are by degrees, so is a returning to health after sickness: but, all irregularities are laborious. chap. vi. of swounding. the cause why a man in _swound_, is, for a time, as if he were dead; is, an irregularity amongst some of the interior corporeal motions, which causes an irregularity of the exterior corporeal motions, and so a general irregularity; which is the cause that a man appears as if he were dead. but some may say, _a man in a swound is void of all motion_. i answer: that cannot be: for, if the man was really dead, yet his parts are moving, though they move not according to the property or nature of a living man: but, if the body had not consistent motions, and the parts did not hold together, it would be dissolved in a moment; and when the parts do divide, they must divide by self-motion: but, in a man in a swound, some of his corporeal motions are only altered from the property and nature of a living man; i say, some of his corporeal motions, not all: neither do those motions quite alter from the nature of a living man, so as the alterations of the fundamental motions do: but they are so alter'd, as language may be alter'd, viz. from _hebrew_ to _greek, latin, french, spanish, english,_ and many others; and although they are all but languages, yet they are several languages or speeches; so the alteration of the corporeal motions of a man in a swound, is but as the altering of one sort of language to another; as put the case, _english_ were the natural language or speech, then all other languages were unknown to him that knows no other than his natural: so a man in a swound is ignorant of those motions in the swound: but, when those motions return to the nature of a living man, he hath the same knowledg he had before. thus human ignorance, and human knowledg, may be occasioned by the alterations of the corporeal motions. the truth is, that swounding and reviving, is like forgetfulness and remembrance, that is, alteration and repetition, or exchange of the same actions. chap. vii. of numb and dead palsies, or gangren's. as for _numb_ and _dead palsies_, they proceed not only from disordered and irregular motions, but from such figurative motions as are quite different from the nature of the creature: for, though it be natural for a man to dye; yet the figurative motions of _death_ are quite different from the figurative motions of life; so in respect to that which man names life, that which man names death, is unnatural: but, as there are several sorts of that man names _life_, or _lives_; so there are several sorts of those corporeal motions, man names _death_: but, _dead palsies_ of some parts of a man's body, are not like those of a man when he is, as we say, _quite dead_; for, those are not only such sorts of motions that are quite, or absolutely different from the life of the man, or such like creature; but such as dissolve the whole frame, or figure of the creature: but, the motions of a _dead palsie_, are not dissolving motions, although they are different from the natural living motions of a man. the same, in some manner, are _numb palsies_; only the motions of _numb palsies_ are not so absolutely different from the natural living motions; but have more irregularities, than perfect alterations. as for that sort of numbness we name _sleepy numbness_, it is occasioned through some obstruction that hinders and stops the exterior sensitive perception. as, when the eyes are shut, or blinded, or the ears stopt, or the nostrils; the sensitive figurative motions of those sensitive organs, cannot make perceptions of forrein objects: so, when the pores of the flesh, which are the perceptive organs of forrein touches, are stopt, either by too heavy burthens or pressings, or tying some parts so hard, as to close the exterior organs, (_viz_. the pores) they cannot make such perceptions as belong to touch: but, when those hinderances are removed, then the sensitive perception of touch, is, in a short time, as perfect as before. as for _gangren's_, although they are somewhat like _dead palsies_, yet they are more like those sorts of dead corporeal motions, that dissolve the frame and form of a creature: for, _gangren's_ dissolve the frame and form of the diseased part; and the like do all those corporeal motions that cause rottenness, or parts to divide and separate after a rotten manner. chap. viii. of madness. there are several sorts of that distemper named _madness_; but they all proceed through the irregularities, either of the rational, or the sensitive parts; and sometimes from the irregularities both of sense and reason: but these irregularities are not such as are quite different from the nature or property of a human creature, but are only such irregularities as make false perceptions of forrein objects, or else make strange conceptions; or move after the manner of dreams in waking-actions; which is not according to the perception of present objects: as for example, the sensitive motions of the exterior parts, make several pictures on the outside of the organs; when as no such object is present; and that is the reason mad-men see strange and unusual sights, hear strange and unusual sounds, have strange and unusual tasts and touch: but, when the irregularities are only amongst the rational parts, then those that are so diseased, have violent passions, strange conceptions, wild fancies, various opinions, dangerous designs, strong resolutions, broken memories, imperfect remembrances, and the like. but, when both the sensitive and rational are sympathetically disorderly; then the mad-men will talk extravagantly, or laugh, sing, sigh, weep, tremble, complain, &c. without cause. chap. ix. the sensitive and rational parts may be distinctly mad. the senses may be irregularly mad, and not the reason; and the reason may be irregularly mad, and not the sense; and, both sense and reason may be both sympathetically mad: and, an evident proof that there is a rational and sensitive madness, is, that those whose rational parts are regular, and only some of the sensitive irregular, will speak soberly, and declare to their friends, how some of their senses are distemper'd, and how they see strange and unusual sights, hear unusual sounds, smell unusual sents, feel unusual touches, and desire some remedy for their distempers. also, it may be observed, that sometimes the rational parts are madly distemper'd, and not the sensitive; as when the sensitive parts make no false perceptions, but only the rational; and then only the mind is out of order, and is extravagant, and not the senses: but, when the senses and reason are madly irregular, then the diseased man is that we name, _outragiously mad_. chap. x. the parts of the head are not only subject to madness, but also the other parts of the body. _madness_ is not only in the head, but in other parts of the body: as for example, some will feel unusual touches in their hands, and several other parts of their body. we may also observe by the several and strange postures of mad-men, that the several parts of the body are madly distemper'd. and it is to be noted, that sometimes some parts of the body are mad, and not the other; as, sometimes only the eyes, sometimes only the ears; and so of the rest of the organs, and of the rest of the parts of the body; one part only being mad, and the rest in good order. moreover, it is to be noted, that some are not continually mad, but only mad by fits, or at certain times; and those fits, or certain times of disorders, proceed from a custom or habit of the rational or sensitive motions, to move irregularly at such times; and a proof that all the parts are subject to the distemper of _madness_, is, that every part of the body of those sorts of mad-men that believe their bodies to be glass, moves in a careful and wary motion, for fear of breaking in pieces: neither are the exterior parts only subject to the distemper of madness, but the interior parts; as may be observed, when the whole body will tremble through a mad fear, and the heart will beat disorderly, and the stomack will many times be sick. chap. xi. the rational and sensitive parts of a human creature, are apt to disturb each other. although the rational and sensitive corporeal motions, may, and do sometimes disagree; yet, for the most part, there is such a sympathetical agreement between the sensitive and rational corporeal motions of one society, (viz. of one creature) as they often disturb each other: as for example, if the rational motions are so irregular, as to make imaginary fears, or fearful imaginations, these fearful imaginations cause the sensitive corporeal motions, to move according to the irregularities of the rational; which is the cause, in such fears, that a man seems to see strange and unusual objects, to hear strange and unusual sounds, to smell unusual sents, to feel unusual touches, and to be carried to unusual places; not that there are such objects, but the irregular senses make such pictures in the sensitive organs; and the whole body may, through the strength of the irregular motions, move strangely to unusual places: as for example, a mad-man, in a strong mad fit, will be as strong as ten men; whereas, when the mad fit is over, he seems weaker than usually, or regularly, he uses to be; not that the self-moving parts of nature are capable of being weaker, or stronger, than naturally they are: but having liberty to move as they will, they may move stronger, or weaker, swifter or slower, regularly or irregularly, as they please; nor doth nature commonly use force. but this is to be noted, that there being a general agreement amongst the particular parts, they are more forcible than when those parts are divided into factions and parties: so that in a general irregular commotion or action, all the sensitive parts of the body of a man, agree to move with an extraordinary force, after an unusual manner; provided it be not different from the property and nature of their compositions; that is, not different from the property and nature of a man. but this is likewise to be noted, that in a general agreement, man may have other properties, than when the whole body is governed by parts, as it is usual when the body is regular, and that every part moves in his proper sphere, as i may say, (for example) the head, heart, lungs, stomack, liver, and so the rest, where each part doth move in several sorts of actions. the like may also may be said of the parts of the leggs and hands, which are different sorts of actions; yet all move to the use and benefit of the whole body: but, if the corporeal motions in the hands, and so in the leggs, be irregular, they will not help the rest of the parts; and so, in short, the same happens in all the parts of the body, whereof some parts may be regular, and others irregular; and sometimes all may be irregular. but, to conclude this chapter, the body may have unusual force and properties; as when a man says, he was carried and flung into a ditch, or some place distant; and that he was pinch't, and did see strange sights, heard strange sounds, smelt strange scents; all which may very well be caused by the irregular motions, either by a general irregularity, or by some particular irregularity; and the truth is, the particular corporeal motions, know not the power of the general, until they unite by a general agreement; and sometimes there may be such commotions in the body of a man, as in a common-wealth, where many times there is a general uproar and confusion, and none know the cause, or who began it. but this is to be noted, that if the sensitive motions begin the disorder, then they cause the rational to be so disordered, as they can neither advise wisely, or direct orderly, or perswade effectually. chap. xii. of diseases produced by conceit. as there are numerous sorts of _diseases_, so there are numerous manners or ways of the production of diseases; and those diseases that are produced by _conceit_, are first occasioned by the rational corporeal figurative motions: for, though every several conceit, or imagination, is a several rational corporeal figurative motion; yet, every conceit or imagination doth not produce a sensitive effect: but in those that do produce a sensitive effect, it is the conceit or imagination of some sorts of diseases; but in most of those sorts that are dangerous to life, or causes deformity: the reason is, that as all the parts of nature are self-knowing, so they are self-loving: also, regular societies beget an united love, by regular agreements, which cause a rational fear of a disuniting, or dissolving; and that is the reason, that upon the perception of such a disease, the rational, through some disorder, figures that disease; and the sensitive corporeal motions, take a pattern from the rational, and so the disease is produced. the tenth part. chap. i. of fevers. some are of opinion, that all, or, at least, most diseases, are accompanied, more or less, with a _feverous distemper_: if so, then we may say, a _fever_ is the _fundamental disease_: but, whether that opinion is true, or no, i know not; but i observe, there are many sorts of fevers, and so there are of all other diseases or distempers: for, every alteration, or difference, of one and the same kind of disease, is a several sort. as for fevers, i have observed, there are fevers in the blood, or humours, and not in any of the vital parts; and those are ordinary burning-fevers: and there are other sorts of fevers that are in the vital parts, and all other parts of the body, and those are _malignant fevers_; and there are some sorts of fevers which are in the radical humours, and those are _hectick fevers_; and there are other sorts of fevers that are in those parts, which we name the _spiritous parts_. also, all _consumptions_ are accompanied with a feverish distemper: but, what the several figurative motions are of these several sorts of fevers, i cannot tell. chap. ii. of the plague. there are two visible sorts of the disease named the _plague_: the weaker sort is that which produces swellings, or inflamed or corrupted sores, which are accompanied with a fever. the other sort is that which is named the _spotted plague_. the first sort is sometimes curable; but the second is incurable; at least, no remedy as yet hath been found. the truth is, the _spotted plague_ is a _gangrene_, but is somewhat different from other sorts of _gangren's_; for this begins amongst the vital parts, and, by an infection, spreads to the extream parts; and not only so, but to forrein parts; which makes not only a general infection amongst all the several parts of the body, but the infection spreads it self to other bodies. and whereas other sorts of _gangren's_ begin outwardly, and pierce inwardly; the _plaguy gangrene_ begins inwardly, and pierces outwardly: so as the difference (as i said) is, that the ordinary sort of _gangren's_ infect the next adjoining parts of the body, by moderate degrees; whereas the _plaguy gangrene_ infects not only the adjoining parts of the same body, and that suddenly, but infects forreign bodies. also, the ordinary _gangren's_ may be stopped from their infection, by taking off the parts infected, or diseased. but the _plaguy gangrene_ can no ways be stopped, because the vital parts cannot be separated from the rest of the parts, without a total ruine: besides, it pierces and spreads more suddenly, than remedies can be applyed. but, whether there are applications of preventions, i know not; for, those studies belong more to the _physicians_, than to a _natural philosopher_. as for the diseases we name the _purples_, and the _spotted fever_, they are of the same kind, or kindred, although not of the same sort, as _measles_, and the _small-pox_. but this is to be noted, that infection is an act of imitation: for, one part cannot give another part a disease, but only that some imitate the same sorts of irregular actions of other parts; of which some are near adjoining imitators, and some occasion a general mode. chap. iii. of the small-pox, and measles. the _small-pox_ is somewhat like the _sore-plague_, not only by being infectious, as both sorts of plagues are; but, by being of a corrupt nature, as the sore-plague is; only the _small-pox_ is innumerable, or very many small sores; whereas the _sore-plague_ is but one or two great sores. also, the _small-pox_ and _sore-plague_, are alike in this, that if they rise and break, or if they fall not flat, but remain until they be dry and scabbed, the patient lives: but, if they fall flat, and neither break, nor are scabbed, the patient is in danger to dye. also, it is to be noted, that this disease is sometimes accompanied with a feverish distemper; i say, sometimes, not always; and that is the cause that many dye, either with too hot, or too cooling applications: for, in a feverish distemper, hot cordials are poyson; and when there is no fever, cooling remedies are _opium_: the like for letting blood; for if the disease be accompanied with a fever, and the fever be not abated by letting blood, 'tis probable the fever, joyned with the pox, will destroy the patient: and if no fever, and yet loose blood, the pox hath not sufficient moisture to dilate, nor a sufficient natural vapour to breathe, or respirate; so as the life of the patient is choaked or stifled with the contracted corruptions. as for measles, though they are of the same kind, yet not of the same sort; for they are rather small risings, than corrupted sores, and so are less dangerous. chap. iv. of the intermission of fevers or agues. _agues_ have several sorts of distempers, and those quite opposite to each other, as cold and shaking, hot and burning, besides sweating: also, there are several times of intermissions; as some are every-day agues, some third-day agues, and some _quartan_ agues; and some patient may be thus distempered, many times, in the compass of four and twenty hours: but those are rather of the nature of intermitting fevers, than of perfect agues. also, in agues, there is many times a difference of the hot and cold fits: for sometimes the cold fits will be long, and the hot short; other times, the hot fits will be long, and the cold fits short; other times, much of an equal degree: but, most intermitting fevers and agues, proceed either from ill-digestive motions, or from a superfluity of cold and hot motions, or an irregularity of the cold, hot, dry; or moist motions, where each sort strives and struggles with each other. but, to make a comparison, agues are somewhat like several sorts of weather, as freezing and thawing, cloudy or rainy, or fair and sun-shining days: or like the four seasons of the year, where the cold fits are like _winter_, cold and windy; the hot fits like _summer_, hot and dry; the sweating fits like _autumn_, warm and moist; and, when the fit is past, like the _spring_. but, to conclude, the chief cause of agues, is, irregular digestions, that make half-concocted humours; and according as these half-concocted humours digest, the patient hath his aguish distempers, where some are every day, others every second day, some every third day, and some _quartans_: but, by reason those half-concocted humours, are of several sorts of humors, some cold, some hot, some cold and dry, some hot and dry, or hot and moist; and those different sorts, raw, or but half-concocted humours; they occasion such disorder, not only by an unnatural manner of digestion, as not to be either timely, or regular, by degrees; but, those several sorts of raw humours, strive and struggle with each other for power or supremacy: but, according as those different raw humours concoct, the fits are longer or shorter: also, according to the quantity of those raw humours, and according as those humours are a gathering, or breeding, so are the times of those fits and intermissions. but here is to be noted, that some agues may be occasioned from some particular irregular digestions; others from a general irregular digestion, some from some obscure parts, others from ordinary humours. chap. v. of consumptions. there are many sorts of _consumptions_; as, some are consumptions of the vital parts, as the liver, lungs, kidneys, or the like parts: others, a consumption of the radical parts: others a consumption of the spiritous parts: other consumptions are only of the flesh; which, in my opinion, is the only curable consumption. but, all consumptions, are not only an alteration, but a wasting and dis-uniting of the fundamental parts; only those consuming parts do, as it were, steal away by degrees; and so, by degrees, the society of a human creature is dissolved. chap. vi. of dropsies. _dropsies_ proceed from several causes; as, some from a decay of some of the vital parts; others through a superfluity of indigested humours; some from a supernatural driness of some parts; others through a superfluity of nourishing motions; some, through some obstructions; others, through an excess of moist dyet: but, all dropsies proceed not only from irregular motions, but from such a particular irregularity, as all the motions endeavour to be of one mode, (as i may say) that is, to move after the manner of those sorts of motions which are the innate nature of water, and are some sorts of circular dilatations: but, by these actions, the human society endeavours to make a deluge, and to turn from the nature of blood and flesh, to the nature of water. chap. vii. of sweating. all _sweating-diseases_ are somewhat of the nature of dropsies; but they are (at least, seem to be) more exterior, than interior dropsies: but, though there be sweating-diseases which are irregular; yet, regular sweating is as proper as regular breathing; and so healthful, that sweating extraordinary, in some diseases, occasions a cure: for, sweating is a sort of purging; so that the evacuation of sweat, through the pores, is as necessary as other sorts of evacuation, as breathing, urine, siege, spitting, purging through the nose, and the like. but, excess of sweating, is like other sorts of fluxes, of which, some will scowr to death; others vomit to death; and others the like fluxes will occasion death; the like is of sweating: so that the _sweating-sickness_ is but like a _fluxive-sickness_. but, as i said, regular sweating is as necessary as other ordinary evacuations: and as some are apt to be restringent, others laxative; and sometimes one and the same man will be laxative, other times, costive; so are men concerning sweating: and as some men take medicines to purge by stool, or vomits, or urine; so they take medicines to purge by sweating. and, as man hath several sorts of excremental humours, so, several sorts of sweats; as, clammy sweats, cold sweats, hot sweats, and faint sweats: and, as all excess of other sorts of purgings, causes a man to be weak and faint; so doth sweating. chap. viii. of covghs. there are many several sorts of _coughs_, proceeding from several causes; as, some coughs proceed from a superfluity of moisture; others from an unnatural heat; others from a corruption of humors; others from a decay of the vital parts; others from sudden colds upon hot distempers: some are caused by an interior wind; some coughs proceed from salt humors, bitter, sharp, and sweet: some coughs proceed from flegm, which flegm ariseth like a scum in a pot, when meat is boiling on a fire: for when the stomack is distemperedly hot, the humors in the stomack boyl as liquid substances on the fire; those boiling motions bearing up the gross humors beyond the mouth of the stomack, and, causing a dispute between the breath and humors, produce the effect of straining, or reaching upwards towards the mouth, much like the nature and motions of vomiting: but, by reason those motions are not so strong in coughing, as in vomiting, the coughing motions bring up only pieces or parts of superfluous flegm, or gross spittle. the like for corrupt humors. other coughs proceed from unnatural or distempered heats; which heats cause unnecessary vapours, and those vapours ascending up from the bowels, or stomack, to the head, and finding a depression, are converted or changed into a watry substance; which watry substance falls down, like mizling or small rain, or in bigger drops, through the passage of the throat and wind-pipe: which being opprest, and the breath hindered, causes a strife; which striving, is a straining; like as when crumbs of bread, or drops of drink, go not rightly through the throat, but trouble and obstruct the wind-pipe, or when any such matter sticks in the passage of the throat: for, when any part of the body is obstructed, it endeavours to release it self from those obstructions: also, when the vapour that arises, arises in very thin and rarified vapour, that rarified vapour thickens or condenses not so suddenly, being farther from the degree of water; but when condensed into water, it falls down by drops; which drops trickling down the throat, (like as tears from the eyes trickle down the cheeks of the face) the cough is not so violent, but more frequent: but if the rheum be salt or sharp, that trickles down the throat, it causes a gentle or soft smart, which is much like the touch of tickling or itching, which provokes a faint or weak strain or cough. also, wind will provoke to strain or cough: the motion of wind is like as if hair should tickle the nose. or, wind will cause a tickling in the nose, which causes the effect of sneezing: for, sneezing is nothing but a cough through the nose; i may say, it is a nose-cough. and hickops are but stomach-coughs, wind causing the stomack to strain. also, the guts have coughs, which are caused by the wind, which makes a strife in the guts and bowels. other coughs are produced from decayed parts: for, when any part is corrupted, it becomes less solid than naturally it should be: as for example, the flesh of the body, when corrupted, becomes from dense flesh, to a slimy substance; thence, into a watry substance, which falls into parts, or changes from flesh, into a mixt corrupted matter, which falls into parts. the several mixtures, or distempered substances, and irregular motions, causes division of the composed parts; but in the time of dissolving, and divisions of any part, there is a strife which causes pain: and if the strife be in the lungs, it causes coughs, by obstructing the breath: but, some coughs proceed from vapours and winds, arising from the decayed interior parts, sending up vapours from the dissolving substance, which causeth coughs; and some coughs cause decays of the prime interior parts: for, when there falls from the head a constant distillation, this distillation is like dropping water, which will penetrate or divide stone; and more easily will dropping or drilling water do it, as rheum, will corrupt spongy matter as flesh is: but, according as the rheum is fresh, salt, or sharp, the parts are a longer or shorter time decaying: for, salt and sharp is corroding; and, by the corroding motions, ulcerates those parts the salt rheums fall on, which destroys them soon. as for _chin-cough_, 'tis a wind or vapour arising from the lungs, through the wind-pipe; and as long as the wind or vapour ascends, the patient cannot draw in reviving air or breath, but coughs violently and incessantly, until it faint away, or have no strength left; and with straining, will be as if it were choaked or strangled, and become black in the face, and, after the cough is past, recover again; but some dye of these sorts of coughs. chap. ix. of gangren's. _gangren's_ are of the nature of the _plague_; and they are of two sorts, as the _plague_ is; the one more sudden and deadly than the other: the only difference of their insecting qualities, is, that _gangren's_ spread by insecting still the next, or neighbouring parts; whereas plagues infect forrein, as much as home-parts. also, the deadly sort of _gangren's_, infect (as i may say) from the circumference towards the center: when as the deadly sorts of plague, infect from the center, towards the circumference. but, that sort of _gangrene_ that is the weaker sort, infects only the next adjoining parts, by degrees, and after a spreading manner, rather than after a piercing manner. but some may object, that _plagues_ and _gangren's_ are produced from different causes; as for example, extream cold will cause _gangren's_; and extream heat causes _plagues_. i answer, that two opposite causes may produce like effects, for which may be brought numerous examples. chap. x. of cancers and fistula's. _cancers_ and _fistula's_ are somewhat alike, in that they are both produced from salt, or sharp corroding motions: but in this they differ, that cancers keep their center, and spread in streams; whereas _fistula's_ will run from place to place: for if it be stopt in one place, it is apt to remove and break out in another. yet _cancers_ are somewhat like _gangren's_, in infecting adjoining parts; so that unless a _cancer_ be in such a place as can be divided from the sound parts, it destroys the human life, by eating (as i may say) the sound parts of the body, as all corroding, and sharp or salt diseases do. chap. xi. of the govt. as for the disease named the _gout_, i never heard but of two sorts; the _fixt_, and the _running gout_: but, mistake me not, i mean _fixt_ for _place_, not _time_. the _fixt_ proceeds from hot, sharp, or salt motions: the _running gout_ from cold, sharp motions; but, both sorts are intermitting diseases, and very painful; and i have heard those that have had the _fixt gout_, say, that the pain of the fixt gout, is somewhat like the tooth-ach: but, all gouts are occasioned by irregular pressures and re-actions. as for that sort that is named the windy gout, it is rather a sciatica, than a gout. chap. xii. of the stone. of the disease of the _stone_ in human creatures, there are many sorts: for, though the _stone_ of the _bladder_, of the _kidneys_, and in the _gaul_, be all of one kind of disease called the _stone_, yet they are of different sorts: but, whether the disease of the _stone_ be produced of hot or cold motions, i cannot judg: but 'tis probable, some are produced of hot motions, others of cold; and perchance, others of such sorts of motions as are neither perfectly hot, nor cold: for, the _stone_ is produced, as all other creatures, by such or such sorts of figurative motions. here is to be noted, that some of the humours of the body may alter their motion, and turn from being flegm, choler, or the like, to be _stone_; and so from being a rare, moist, or loose body, to be a dry, densed, hard, or fixt body. but certainly, the _stone_ of the _bladder_, _kidneys_ and _gaul_, are of several sorts, as being produced by several sorts of figurative motions; as also, according to the properties and forms of those several parts of the body they are produced in: for, as several sorts of soyls, or parts of the earth, produce several sorts of minerals; so several parts of the body, several sorts of the disease of the _stone_: and, as there are several sorts of stones in the several parts of the earth; so, no doubt, there may not only be several sorts of stone in several parts, but several sorts in one and the same part; at least, in the like parts of several men. chap. xii. of apoplexies, and lethargies. _apoplexies, lethargies_, and the like diseases, are produced by some decay of the vital spirits, or by obstructions, as being obstructed by some superfluities, or through the irregularities of some sorts of motions, which occasion some passages to close, that should be open. but mistake me not, i do not mean empty passages; for there is no such thing (in my opinion) in nature: but, i mean an open passage for a frequent course and recourse of parts. but an _apoplexy_ is somewhat of the nature of a _dead-palsie_; and a _lethargy_, of a numb-palsie; but i have heard, that the opinion of learned men is, that some sorts of vaporous pains are the fore-runners of _apoplexies_ and _palsies_: but, in my opinion, though a man may have two diseases at once; yet surely, where vapour can pass, there cannot be an absolute stoppage. chap. xiii. of epilepsies. _epilepsies_, or that we name the _falling-sickness_, is of the nature of swounding or fainting fits: but there are two visible sorts; the one is, that only the head is affected, and not the other parts of the body; and for proof, those that are thus distempered only in the head, all the other parts will struggle and strive to help or assist the affected or afflicted parts, and those parts of the head that are not irregular, as may be observed by their motions; but, by the means of some other parts, there will also be striving and strugling, as may be observed by foaming through the mouth. the other sort is like ordinary swounding-fits, where all the parts of the body seem, for a time, to be dead. but this is to be observed, that those that are thus diseased, have certain times of intermissions, as if the corporeal motions did keep a decorum in being irregular. but some have had _epilepsies_ from their birth; which proves, that their productive motions was irregular. chap. xiv. of convulsions, and cramps. _convulsions_ and _cramps_ are somewhat alike; and both, in my opinion, proceed from cold contractions: but, _cramps_ are caused by the contractions of the _capillary_ veins, or small _fibers_, rather than of the nerves and sinews: for, those contractions, if violent, are _convulsions_: so that cramps are contractions of the small fibers; and convulsions are contractions of the nerves and sinews. but the reason (i believe) that these diseases proceed from cold contractions, is, that hot remedies produce, for the most part, perfect cures; but, they must be such sorts of hot remedies, that are of a dilating or extenuating nature; and not such whose properties are hot and dry, or contracting: also, the applications must be according to the strength of the disease. chap. xv. of cholicks. _cholicks_ are like _cramps_ or _convulsions_; or _convulsions_ and _cramps_, like _cholicks_: for, as _convulsions_ are contractions of the nerves and sinews; and _cramps_, contractions of the small _fibers_: so _cholicks_ are a contracting of the gutts: and, for proof, so soon as the contracting motions alter, and are turn'd to dilating or expelling actions, the patient is at ease. but, there are several causes that produce the _cholick_: for, some _cholicks_ are produced by hot and sharp motions, as _bilious cholicks_; others from cold and sharp motions, as _splenetick cholicks_; others from crude and raw humours; some from hot winds; some from cold winds. the same some sorts of _convulsions_ and _cramps_ may be: but, though these several _cholicks_ may proceed from several causes; yet, they all agree in this, to be contractions: for, as i said, when those corporeal motions alter their actions to dilatation or expulsion, the patient is at ease. but, those _cholicks_ that proceed from hot and sharp motions, are the most painful and dangerous, by reason they are, for the most part, more strong and stubborn. as for _cholicks_ in the stomack, they are caused by the same sorts of motions that cause some sorts of contractions: but, those sorts of _cholick_ contractions, are after the manner of wreathing, or wringing contractions. the same in convulsive-contractions. chap. xvi. of shaking palsies. _shaking palsies_ proceed from a slackness of the nerves, or sinew strings, as may be observed by those that hold or lay any heavy weight upon the arms, hands or leggs: for, when the burdens are removed, those limbs will be apt to tremble and shake so much, for a short time, (until they have recovered their former strength) that the leggs cannot go, or stand steadily; nor the arms, or hands, do any thing without shaking. the reason of these sorts of slackness, is, that heavy burdens occasion the nerves and sinews to extend beyond their order; and being stretched, they become more slack, and loose, by how much they were stretched, or extended; until such time as they contract again into their proper posture: and the reason that old age is subject to _shaking-palsies_, is, that the frame of their whole body is looser and slacker, than when it was young: as in a decayed house, every material is looser than when it was first built; but yet, sometimes an old shaking house will continue a great while, with some repairs: so old shaking men, with care, and good dyet, will continue a great time. but this is to be noted, that trembling is a kind of a _shaking-palsie_, although of another sort; and so is weakness after sickness: but, these sorts are occasioned, as when a house shakes in a great wind, or storm; and not through any fundamental decay. chap. xvii. of the muther, spleen, and scurvy. as for those diseases that are named the _fits of the muther_, the _spleen_, the _scurvy_, and the like; although they are the most general diseases, especially amongst the females; yet, each particular sort is so various, and hath such different effects, that, i observe, they puzzle the most learned men to find out their jugling, intricate, and uncertain actions. but this is to be observed, that the richest sorts of persons are most apt to these sorts of diseases; which proves, that idleness and luxury is the occasion. chap. xviii. of food, or digestions. as i have said, _digestions_ are so numerous, and so obscure, that the most learned men know not how food is converted and distributed to all the parts of the body: which obscurity occasions many arguments, and much dispute amongst the learned; but, in my opinion, it is not the parts of the human body, that do digest the food, although they may be an occasion (through their own regularities, or irregularities) to cause good or bad digestions: but, the parts of the food, do digest themselves; that is, alter their actions to the property and nature of a human body: so that digestive parts are only additional parts; and, if those nourishing motions be regular,they distribute their several parts, and joyn their several parts, to those several parts of the body that require addition. also, the digestive motions are according to the nature or property of each several part of the human body, as for example, those digestive parts alter into blood, flesh, fat, marrow, brains, humors, and so into any other figurative parts of the sensitive body. the same may be said of the rational parts of the mind: but, if those digestive parts be irregular, they will cause a disorder in a well-ordered body: and, if the parts of the body be irregular, they will occasion a disorder amongst the digestive parts: but, according to the regularities and irregularities of the digestive parts, is the body more or less nourished. but this is to be noted, that according to the superfluity or scarcity of those digestive parts, the body is opprest, or starved. chap. xix. of surfeits. _surfeits_ are occasioned after different manners: for, though many surfeits proceed from those parts that are received into the body; yet, some are occasioned through often repetitions of one and the same actions: as for example, the eyes may surfeit with too often viewing one object; the ears, with often hearing one sound; the nose, with smelling one sent; the tongue, with one tast. the same is to be said of the rational actions; which surfeits, occasion an aversion to such or such particulars: but, for those surfeits that proceed from the parts that are received into the body, they are either through the _quantity_ that oppresses the nature of the body; or, through the _quality_ of those parts, being not agreeable to the nature of the body; or, through their irregularities, that occasion the like irregularities in the body: and sometimes, the fault is through the irregularities of the body, that hinder those received parts, or obstruct their regular digestions; and sometimes, the fault is both of the parts of the body, and those of the food: but, the surfeits of those parts that receive not food, are caused through the often repetition of one and the same action. chap. xx. of natural evacuations, or purgings. there are many sorts, and several ways or means of purging actions; whereof some we name _natural_, which purge the excremental parts; and such natural purgings, are only of such parts as are no ways useful to the body; or of those that are not willing to convert themselves into the nature and property of the substantial parts. there must of necessity be purging actions, as well as digestive actions; because, no creature can subsist singly of it self, but all creatures subsist each by other; so that, there must be dividing actions, as well as uniting actions; only, several sorts of creatures, have several sorts of nourishments and evacuations. but this is to be noted, in the human nourishments and evacuations, that, through their irregularities, some men may nourish too much, and others purge too much; and some may nourish too little, and some may purge too little. the irregularities concerning nourishments, are amongst the adjoining parts; the errors concerning purging, are amongst the dividing parts. chap. xxi. of purging druggs. there are many sorts of _druggs_, whereof some are beneficial, by assisting those particular parts of the body that are oppressed and offended, either by superfluous humours, or malignant humours: but, there are some sorts of druggs that are as malicious to the human life, as the assistant druggs are friendly. several sorts of druggs, have several sorts of actions, which causes several effects; as, some druggs work by siege; others, by urine; some, by vomit; others, by spitting; others, by sweating; some cause sleep; some are hot, others are cold; some dry, others moist. but this is to be noted, that 'tis not the motions of the druggs, but the motion of the humours, which the druggs occasion to flow; and not only to flow, but to flow after such or such a manner and way. the actions of druggs, are like the actions of hounds, or hawks, that flye at a particular bird, or run after a particular beast of their own kind, although of a different sort: the only difference is, that druggs are not only of a different sort, but of a different kind from animal kind; at least, from human sort. chap. xxii. of the various humours of druggs. the reason, one and the same quantity or dose of one and the same sort of purging-druggs or medicine, will often work differently in several human bodies; as also, differently in one and the same body, at several times of taking the same sorts of medicines; is, that several parts of one and the same sort, may be differently humoured: as, some to be duller and slower than others; and some to be more active than others. also, some parts may be ill-natured, and cause factions amongst the parts of the body; whereas others will endeavour to rectifie disorders, or factions. and sometimes both the druggs, and the body, falls out; and then there is a dangerous strife; the body striving to expel the physick, and the physick endeavouring to stay in the body, to do the body some mischief. also, some parts of one and the same sort, may be so irregular, as to hunt not only the superfluous humours, or the malignant humors, but all sorts of flowing parts; which may cause so great and general disorder, as may endanger human life. chap. xxiii. of cordials. there are many sorts of _cordials_: for, i take every beneficial remedy to be a cordial: but, many of the vulgar believe, that there is no cordial but brandy, or such like strong-waters; at least, they believe all such remedies that are virtually hot, to be cordials: but, when they take too much of such cordials, either in sickness, or health, they will, in some time, find them as bad as poyson. but, all such applications as are named _cordials_, are not hot: for, some are cool, at least, of a temperate degree. and as there are regular and irregular corporeal motions; so there are sympathetical, and antipathetical motions; and yet both sorts may be regular. also, there is a neutral sort, that has neither sympathy nor antipathy, but is indifferent. but in disputes between two different parties, a third may come in to the assistance of one side, more out of hate to the opposite, than love to the assisted. the same may cordials, or such like applications, do, when the corporeal motions of human life are in disorder, and at variance: for, oftentimes there is as great a mutiny and disorder amongst the corporeal motions, both in the mind and body of a man, as in a publick state in time of rebellion: but, all assistant cordials, endeavour to assist the regular parts of the body, and to perswade the irregular parts. as for poysons, they are like forrein warr, that endeavours to destroy a peaceable government. chap. xxiv. of the different actions of the several sensitive parts of a human creature. some parts of a human creature will be regular, and some irregular: as, some of the sensitive parts will be regular, and some irregular; that is, some parts will be painful, or sick, others well: some parts will make false perceptions; others, true perceptions: some parts be temperate; others, intemperate: some parts be madd, other parts sober: some parts be wise; others, foolish: and the same is to be said of the rational motions. but, in a regular society, every part and particle of the body, is regularly agreeable, and sympathetical. chap. xxv. of the antipathy of some human creatures, to some forrein objects. as i have often said, there is often both sympathy and antipathy between the parts of some particular human and forrein objects; in so much, that some will occasion such a general disturbance, as will cause a general alteration, viz. cause a man to swound, or at least, to be very faint, or sick: as for example, some will swound at some sorts of sounds, some sorts of scents, some sorts of tast, some sorts of touches, and some sorts of sights. again, on the other side, some human creatures will so sympathize with some sorts of forrein objects, as some will long for that, another will swound to have. chap. xxvi. of the effects of forrein objects, on the human mind. as there is often antipathy of the parts of a human creature, to forrein objects; so there are often sympathetical effects produced from forrein objects, with the parts of a human creature. as for example, a timely, kind, and discreet discourse from a friend, will compose or quiet his troubled mind: likewise, an untimely, unkind, hasty, malicious, false, or sudden discourse, will often disorder a well-temper'd, or regular mind, the mind imitating the smooth or harsh strains of the object: and the same effects hath musick, on the minds of many human creatures. chap. xxvii. of contemplation. human _contemplation_, is a conversation amongst some of the rational parts of the human mind; which parts, not regarding present objects, move either in devout notions, or vain fancies, remembrances, inventions, contrivancies, designs, or the like. but the question is, whether the sensitive parts of a human society, do, at any time, contemplate? i answer, that some of the sensitive parts are so sociable, that they are, for the most part, agreeable to the rational: for, in deep contemplations, some of the sensitive parts do not take notice of forrein objects, but of the rational actions. also, if the contemplations be in devout notions, the sensitive parts express devotion by their actions, as i have formerly mentioned. also, when the rational parts move in actions of desire, straight the sensitive move in sympathetical appetites: wherefore, if the society be regular, the sensitive and rational parts are agreeable and sociable. chap. xxviii. of injecting of the blood of one animal, into the veins of another animal. to put blood of one animal, into another animal; as for example, some ounces of blood taken, by some art, out of a dogg's veins, and, by some art, put into a man's veins, may very easily be done by _injection_; and certainly, may as readily convert it self to the nature of human blood, as roots, herbs, fruit, and the like food; and probably, will more aptly be transformed into human flesh, than hogg's blood, mixt with many ingredients, and then put into gutts, and boyled, (an ordinary food amongst country people;) but blood being a loose humourish part, may encrease or diminish, as the other humors, viz. _flegm, choler_, and _melancholy_, are apt to do. but this is to be observed, that by reason blood is the most flowing humor, and of much more, or greater quantity than all the rest of the humours, it is apt (if regular) to cause, not only more frequent, but a more general disturbance. the eleventh part. chap. i. of the different knowledges, in different kinds and sorts of creatures. if there be not infinite kinds, yet, it is probable, there are infinite several sorts; at least, infinite particular creatures, in every particular kind and sort; and the corporeal motions moving after a different manner, is the cause there are different knowledges, in different creatures; yet, none can be said to be _least knowing_, or _most knowing_: for, there is (in my opinion) no such thing as _least_ and _most_, in nature: for, several kinds and sorts of knowledges, make not knowledg to be more, or less; but only, they are different knowledges proper to their kind, (as, animal-kind, vegetable-kind, mineral-kind, elemental-kind) and are also different knowledges in several sorts: as for example, man may have a different knowledg from beasts, birds, fish, flies, worms, or the like; and yet be no wiser than those sorts of animal-kinds. the same happens between the several knowledges of vegetables, minerals, and elements: but, because one creature doth not know what another creature knows, thence arises the opinion of _insensibility_, and _irrationability_, that some creatures have of others. but there is to be noted, that nature is so regular, or wise, in her actions, that the _species_ and knowledg of every particular kind, is kept in an even, or equal balance: for example, the death or birth of animals, doth neither add or diminish from, or to the knowledg of the kind, or rather the sort. also, an animal can have no knowledg, but such as is proper to the _species_ of his figure: but, if there be a creature of a mixt _species_, or figure, then their knowledg is according to their mixt form: for, the corporeal motions of every creature, move according to the form, frame, or _species_ of their society: but, there is not only different knowledges, in different kinds and sorts of creatures; but, there are different knowledges in the different parts of one and the same; as, the different senses of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching, have not only different knowledges in different sensitive organs, but in one sense, they have several perceptive knowledges: and though the different sensitive organs of a human creature, are ignorant of each other; yet, each sense is as knowing as another. the same (no question) is amongst all the creatures in nature. chap. ii. of the variety of self-actions in particular creatures. there are numerous varieties of figurative motions in some creatures; and in others, very few, in comparison: but, the occasion of that, is the manner of the frame and form of a creature: for, some creatures that are but small, have much more variety of figurative motions, than others that are very bigg and large creatures: so that, it is not only the quantity of matter, or number of parts, but the several changes of motion, by the variety of their active parts, that is the cause of it: for, nature is not only an infinite body, but, being self-moving, causes infinite variety, by the altered actions of her parts; every altered action, causing both an altered self-knowledg, and an altered perceptive knowledg. chap. iii. of the variety of corporeal motion, of one and the same sort or kind of motion. there is infinite variety of motion of the same sorts and kinds of motions; as for example, of dilatations, or extensions, expulsions, attractions, contractions, retentions, digestions, respirations: there is also varieties of densities, rarities, gravities, levities, measures, sizes, agilness, slowness, strength, weakness, times, seasons, growths, decays, lives, deaths, conceptions, perceptions, passions, appetites, sympathies, antipathies, and millions the like kinds, or sorts. chap. iv. of the variety of particular creatures. nature is so delighted with _variety_, that seldom two creatures (although of the same sort, nay, from the same producers) are just alike; and yet human perception cannot perceive above four kinds of creatures, viz. _animals, vegetables, minerals_, and _elements_: but, the several sorts seem to be very numerous; and the varieties of the several particulars, infinite: but, nature is necessitated to divide her creatures into kinds and sorts, to keep order and method: for, there may be numerous varieties of sorts; as for example, many several worlds, and infinite varieties of particulars in those _worlds_: for, worlds may differ from each other, as much as several sorts of animals, vegetables, minerals, or elements; and yet be all of that sort we name worlds: but, as for the infinite varieties of nature, we may say, that every part of nature is infinite, in some sort; because every part of nature is a perpetual motion, and makes infinite varieties, by change or alteration of action: but, there is so much variety of the several shapes, figures, forms, and sizes, as, bigger, and less; as also, several sorts of heats, colds, droughts, moistures, fires, airs, waters, earths, animals, vegetables, and minerals, as are not to be expressed. chap. v. of dividing, and rejoyning, or altering exterior figurative motions. the interior and exterior figurative motions of some sorts of creatures, are so united by their sympathetical actions, as they cannot be separated without a total dissolution; and some cannot be altered without a dissolution; and other figurative motions may separate, and unite again; and others, if separate, cannot unite again, as they were before: as for example, the exterior parts of a human creature, if once divided, cannot be rejoyned; when as some sorts of worms may be divided, and if those divided parts meet, can rejoyn, as before. also, some figurative motions of different sorts, and so different, that they are opposite, may unite in agreement, in one composition, or creature; yet, when the very same sorts of figurative motions, are not so united, they are, as it were, deadly enemies. chap. vi. of different figurative motions in particular creatures. there are many creatures that are composed of very opposite figurative motions; as for example, some parts of fire and water; also, all cordials, vitriols, and the like waters; also, iron and stone, and infinite the like: but, that which is composed of the most different figurative motions, is _quick-silver_, which is exteriorly cold, soft, fluid, agil, and heavy: also, divisible, and rejoynable; and yet so retentive of its innate nature, that although it can be rarified, yet not easily dissolved; at least, not that human creatures can perceive; for, it hath puzled the best _chymists_. chap. vii. of the alterations of exterior and innate figurative motions of several sorts of creatures. the form of several creatures, is after several manners and ways, which causes several natures or properties: as for example, the exterior and innate corporeal motions of some creatures, depend so much on each other, that the least alteration of the one, causes a dissolution of the whole creature; whereas the exterior corporeal motions of other sorts of creatures, can change and rechange their actions, without the least disturbance to the innate figurative motions: in other sorts the innate motions shall be quite altered, but their exterior motions be in some manner consistent: as for proof, fire is of that nature, that both the exterior and innate motions, are of one and the same sort; so that the alteration of the one, causeth a dissolution of the other; that is, fire loses the property of fire, and is altered from being fire. on the other side, the exterior figurative motions of water, can change and rechange, without any disturbance to the innate nature: but, though the alteration of the innate figurative motions of all creatures, must of necessity alter the life and knowledg of that creature; yet there may be such consistent motions amongst the exterior parts of some sorts of creatures, that they will keep their exterior form: as for example, a tree that is cut down, or into pieces, when those pieces are withered, and, as we say, dead; yet, they remain of the figure of wood. also, a dead beast doth not alter the figure of flesh or bones, presently. also, a dead man doth not presently dissolve from the figure of man; and some, by the art of embalming, will occasion the remaining figurative motions of the dead man to continue, so that those sorts of motions, that are the frame and form, are not quite altered: but yet, those exterior forms are so altered, that they are not such as those by which we name a _living man_. the same of flyes, or the like, intomb'd in _amber_: but by this we may perceive, that the innate figurative motions may be quite altered, and yet the exterior figurative consistent motions, do, in some manner, keep in the figure, form, or frame of their society. the truth is, (in my opinion) that all the parts that remain undissolved, have quite altered their animal actions; but only the consistent actions, of the form of their society, remains, so as to have a resemblance of their frame or form. chap. viii. of local motion. all corporeal motion is _local_; but only they are different local motions: and some sorts or kinds, have advantage of others, and some have power over others, as, in a manner, to inforce them to alter their figurative motions; as for example, when one creature doth destroy another, those that are the _destroyers_, occasion those that we name the _destroyed_, to dissolve their unity, and to alter their actions: for, they cannot annihilate their actions; nor can they give or take away the power of self-motions; but, as i said, some corporeal motions can occasion other corporeal motions to move so, or so. but this is to be noted, that several sorts of creatures have a mixture of several sorts of figurative motions; as for example, there are flying fish, and swimming beasts; also, there are some creatures that are partly beasts, and partly fish, as _otters_, and many others; also, a _mule_ is partly a horse, and an ass; a _batt_ is partly a mouse, and a bird; an _owle_ is partly a cat and a bird; and numerous other creatures there are, that are partly of one sort, and partly of another. chap. ix. of several manners, or ways of advantages, or disadvantages. not only the manner, form, frame, or shape of particular creatures; but also, the regularity or irregularity of the corporeal motions of particular creatures, doth cause that which man names _strength_ or _weakness, obedience_ or _disobedience_, _advantages_ or _disadvantages_ of power and authority, or the like: as for example, a greater number will overpower a lesse: for, though there be no differences (as being no degrees) of self-strength amongst the self-moving parts, or corporeal motions; yet, there may be stronger and weaker compositions, or associations; and a greater number of corporeal motions, makes a stronger party: but, if the greater party be irregular, and the lesser party be regular, a hundred to one, but the weaker party is victorious. also, the manner of the corporeal motions; as, a diving-motion may get the better of a swimming-motion; and, in some cases, the swimming, the better of the diving. jumping may have the advantage over running; and, in other cases, running, over jumping. also, creeping may have the advantage over flying; and, in other cases, flying, over creeping. a cross motion may have the advantage over a straight; and, in other cases, a straight, over a cross. so it may be said, of turning and lifting, of contracting and dilating motions. and many the like examples may be had; but, as i have often said, there is much advantage and disadvantage in the manner and way of the composed form and figure of creatures. chap. x. of the actions of some sorts of creatures, over others. some sorts of creatures are more exteriorly active, than other sorts; and some more interiorly active; some more rare, some more dense, and the like: also, some dense creatures are more active than the rare; and some rare, are more active than other sorts that are dense. also, some creatures that are rare, have advantage of some that are dense; and some that are dense, over some sorts that are rare; some leight bodies, over some heavy bodies; and some heavy bodies, over some sorts of leight bodies. also, several sorts of exterior motions, of several sorts of creatures, have advantage and disadvantage of each other; as for example, springs of water, and air, will make passages, and so divide hard strong rocks. and, on the other side, a straw will divide parts of water; and a small flye, will divide parts of the air: but, mistake me not, i mean, that they occasion the airy or watry parts, to divide. chap. xi. of glassie bodies. tis impossible, as i have said, to describe the infinite corporeal figurative motions: but, amongst those creatures that are subject to human perception, there are some that resemble each other, and yet are of different natures; as for example, _black ebony_, and _black marble_, they are both glassie, smooth, and black; yet, one is stone, the other wood. also, there be many light and shining bodies, that are of different natures; as for example, metal is a bright shining body; and divers sorts of stones, are bright shining bodies: also, clear water is a bright shining body; yet, the metal and stones are minerals, and water is an element. indeed, most bodies are of a glassie hue, or, as i may say, complexion; as may be observed in most vegetables; as also, skins, feathers, scales, and the like. but some may say, that _glassiness is made by the brightness of the light that shines upon them_. i answer: if so, then the ordinary earth would have the like glassiness: but, we perceive the earth to appear dull in the clearest sun-shining day: wherefore, it is not the light, but the nature of their own bodies. besides, every body hath not one and the same sort of glassiness, but some are very different: 'tis true, some sorts of bodies do not appear glassie, or shining, until they be polished: but, as for such sorts of shining bodies that appear in the dark, there is not many of them perceiv'd by us, besides the moon and starrs; but yet some there are, as fire; but that is an element. there are also glow-worms tayles, cats eyes, rotten wood, and such like shining-bodies. chap. xii. of metamorphoses, or transformations of animals and vegetables. there are some creatures that cannot be metamorphosed: as for example, animals and vegetables, at least, most of those sorts, by reason they are composed of many several and different figurative motions; and i understand _metamorphose_, to be a change and alteration of the exterior form, but not any change or alteration of the interior or intellectual nature: and how can there be a general change of the exterior form or shape of a human creature, or such like animal, when the different figurative motions of his different compositions, are, for the most part, ignorant of each others particular actions? besides, as animals and vegetables require degrees of time for their productions, as also, for their perfections; so, some time is requir'd for their alterations: but, a sudden alteration amongst different figurative motions, would cause such a confusion, that it would cause a dissolution of the _whole_ creature, especially in actions that are not natural, as being improper to their kind, or sort: the same of vegetables, which have many different figurative motions. this considered, i cannot chuse but wonder, that wise men should believe (as some do) the change or transformation of witches, into many sorts of creatures. chap. xiii. of the life and death of several creatures. that which man names _life_, and _death_, (which are some sorts of compositions and divisions of parts of creatures) is very different, in different kinds and sorts of creatures, as also, in one and the same sort: as for example, some vegetables are old and decrepit in a day; others are not in perfection, or in their prime, in less than a hundred years. the same may be said of animal kinds. a _silk-worm_ is no sooner born, but dyes; when as other animals may live a hundred years. as for minerals, tinn and lead seem but of a short life, to gold; as a worm to an elephant, or a tulip to an oak for lasting; and 'tis probable, the several productions of the planets and fixed starrs, may be as far more lasting, than the parts of gold more lasting than a flye: for, if a composed creature were a million of years producing, or millions of years dissolving, it were nothing to eternity: but, those produced motions that make vegetables, minerals, elements, and the like, the subtilest philosopher, or chymist, in nature, can never perceive, or find out; because, human perception is not so subtile, as to perceive that which man names natural productions: for, though all the corporeal motions in nature are perceptive; yet, every perceptive part doth not perceive all the actions in nature: for, though every different corporeal motion, is a different perception; yet, there are more objects than any one creature can perceive: also, every particular kind or sort of creatures, have different perceptions, occasioned by the frame and form of their compositions, or unities of their parts: so as the perceptions of animals, are not like the perceptions of vegetables; nor vegetables, like the perceptions of minerals; nor minerals, like the perceptions of elements: for, though all these several kinds and sorts, be perceptive; yet, not after one and the same way, or manner of perception: but, as there is infinite variety of corporeal motions, so there are infinite varieties of perceptions: for, infinite self-moving matter, hath infinite varieties of actions. but, to return to the discourse of the productions and dissolutions of creatures; the reason, that some creatures last longer than others, is, that some forms or frames of their composition, are of a more lasting figure. but this is to be observed, that the figures that are most solid, are more lasting than those that are more slack and loose: but mistake me not; i say, _for the most part_, they are more lasting. also, this is to be noted, that some compositions require more labour; some, more curiosity; and some are more full of variety, than others. chap. xiv. of circles. a _circle_ is a round figure, without end; which figure can more easily and aptly alter the exterior form, than any other figure. for example, a circular line may be drawn many several ways, into different and several sorts of figures, without breaking the circle: also, it may be contracted or extended into a less or wider compass; and drawn or formed into many several sorts of figures, or works; as, into a square, or triangle, or oval, or cylinder, or like several sorts of flowers, and never dissolve the circular line. but this is to be noted, that there may be several sorts of circular lines; as, some broad, some narrow, some round, some flat, some ragged or twisted, some smooth, some pointed, some edged, and numbers of the like; and yet the compass be exactly round. but some may say, that, _when a circle is drawn into several works, it is not a circle: as for example, when a circle is squared, it is not a circle, but a square._ i answer: it is a circle squar'd, but not a circle broken, or divided: for, the interior nature is not dissolved, although the exterior figure is altered: it is a natural circle, although it should be put into a mathematical square. but, to conclude this chapter, i say, that all such sorts of figures that are (like circular lines) of one piece, may change and rechange their exterior figures, or shapes, without any alterations of their interior properties. chap. xv. human creatures cannot so probably treat of other sorts of creatures, as of their own. to treat of the productions of vegetables, minerals, and elements, is not so easie a task, as to treat of animals; and, amongst animals, the most easie task is, to treat of human productions; by reason one human creature may more probably guess at the nature of all human creatures (being of the same nature) than he can of other kinds of other kinds of creatures, that are of another nature. but, mistake me not, i mean not of another nature, being not of the same kind of creature, but concerning vegetables, minerals, and elements. the elements may more easily be treated of, than the other two kinds: for, though there be numerous sorts of them, at least, numerous several particulars; yet, not so many several sorts, as of vegetables: and though minerals are not, as to my knowledg, so numerous as vegetables; yet, they are of more, or at least, of as many sorts as elements are. but, by reason i am unlearned, i shall only give my opinion of the productions of some sorts; in which, i fear, i shall rather discover my ignorance, than the truth of their productions. but, i hope my _readers_ will not find fault with my endeavour, though they may find fault with my little experience, and want of learning. the twelfth part. chap. i. of the equality of elements. as for the four elements, _fire, air, water_, and _earth_; they subsist, as all other creatures, which subsist by each other: but, in my opinion, there should be an equality of the four elements, to balance the world: for, if one sort should superabound, it would occasion such an irregularity, that would cause a dissolution of this world; as, when some particular humour in man's body superabounds, or there is a scarcity of some humours, it causes such irregularities, that do, many times, occasion his destruction. the same may be said of the four elements of the world: as for example, if there were not a sufficient quantity of elemental air, the elemental fire would go out; and if not a sufficient quantity of elemental fire, the air would corrupt: also, if there were not a sufficient quantity of elemental water, the elemental fire would burn the earth; and if there were not a sufficient quantity of earth, there would not be a solid and firm foundation for the creatures of the earth: for, if there were not density, as well as rarity; and levity, as well as gravity; nature would run into extreams. chap. ii. of several tempers. heat doth not make drought: for, there is a _temper_ of hot and moist. nor cold doth not make drought: for, there is a _temper_ of cold and moist. neither doth heat make moisture: for, there is a _temper_ of hot and dry. nor doth cold make moisture: for, there is a _temper_ of cold and dry. but, such or such sorts of corporeal figurative motions, make hot, cold, moist, dry; hot and dry, hot and moist; cold and dry, cold and moist; and, as those figurative motions alter their actions, those _tempers_ are altered: the like happens in all creatures. but this is to be observed, that there is some opposite or contrary _tempers_, which have a likeness of motion: as for example, a moist heat, and a moist cold, have a likeness or resemblance of moistness; and the same is in dry heats and cold: but surely, most sorts of moistures, are some sorts of dilative motions; and most droughts, are some sorts of contractive motions: but, there are several sorts of dilatations, contractions, retentions, expulsions, and the like: for, there are cold contractions, hot contractions; cold dilatations, hot dilatations; hot retentions, cold retentions; and so of digestions, expulsions, and the like: but, as i said, moist heats, and moist colds, seem of a dilative nature; as dry, of a contractive nature. but, all cold and heat, or dry and moist, may be made by one and the same corporeal motions: for, though the actions may vary, the parts may be the same: yea, the like actions may be in different parts. but, no part is bound to any particular action, having a free liberty of self-motion. but, concerning hot and cold, and the like actions, i observe, that extream heat, and extream cold, is of a like power, or degree: neither can i perceive the hot motions to be quicker than cold: for water, in little quantity, shall as suddenly freeze, as any leight fewel or straw, burn: and animals will as soon freeze to death, as be burned to death: and cold is as powerful at the poles, as heat in the _torrid zone_. and 'tis to be observed, that freezing is as quick and sudden, as thawing: but sometimes, nay very often, cold and hot motions will dispute for power; and some sorts of hot, with other sorts. the like disputes are amongst several sorts of cold motions; dry with moist, dry with dry, moist with moist. and the like disputes are also often amongst all creatures. as for density, it doth not make gravity: for, there may be dense bodies, that are not grave; as for example, feathers, and snow. neither doth gravity make density: for, a quantity of air hath some weight, and yet is not dense. but mistake me not; for, i mean by _grave, heavy_; and not for the effects of ascending, and descending: for feathers, though dense, are more apt to ascend, than descend; and snow, to descend. also, all sorts of fluidity, do not cause moist, liquid, or wet; nor all extenuations, cause light: but, they are such and such sorts of fluidities and extenuations, that cause such and such effects. and so for heats, colds, droughts, moistures, rarities. the same for gravities, levities, and the like. so that, creatures are rare, fluid, moist, wet, dry, dense, hard, soft, leight, heavy, and the like, according to their figurative motions. chap. iii. of the change and rechange; and of dividing and ioyning of the parts of the elements. of all creatures subject to human perception, the elements are most apt to transform, _viz._ to _change_ and _rechange_; also, to _divide_ and _ioyn_ their parts, without altering their innate nature and property. the reason is, because the innate figurative motions of elements, are not so different as those of animals and vegetables, whose compositions are of many different figurative motions; in so much, that disjoining any part of animals, or vegetables, they cannot be joined again, as they were before; at least, it is not commonly done: but, the nature and property of the elements, is, that every part and particle are of one innate figurative motion; so that the least grain of dust, or the least drop of water, or the least spark of fire, is of the same innate nature, property, and figurative motions, as the whole element; when as, of animals, and vegetables, almost, every part and particle is of a different figurative motion. chap. iv. of the innate figurative motions of earth. there are many sorts of _earth_, yet all sorts are of the same kind; that is, they are all earth: but (in my opinion) the prime figurative motions of earth, are circles; but not dilated circles, but contracted circles: neither are those circles smooth, but rugged; which is the cause that earth is dull, or dim, and is easily divided into dusty parts: for all, or at least, most bodies that are smooth, are more apt to joyn, than divide; and have a glassie hew or complexion; which is occasioned by the smoothness, and the smoothness occasioned by the evenness of parts, being without intervals: but, according as these sorts of circular motions are more or less contracted, and more or less rugged, they cause several sorts of earth. chap. v. of the figurative motions of air. there are many sorts of _airs_, as there is of other creatures, of one and the same kind: but, for elemental air, is composed of very rare, figurative motions; and the innate motions, i conceive to be somewhat of the nature of water, viz. circular figurative motions, only of a more dilating property; which causes air, not to be wet, but extraordinary rare; which again causes it to be somewhat of the nature of light: for, the rarity occasions air to be very searching and penetrating; also, dividable and compoundable: but, the rarity of air, is the cause that it is not subject to some sorts of human perception; but yet, not so rare, as not to be subject to human respirations; which is one sort of human perception: for, all parts of all creatures, are perceptive one way, or another: but, as i said, there are many sorts of air; as, some cold, some hot; some dry, some moist; some sharp; some corrupt, some pure, some gross; and numbers more: but, many of these sorts are rather metamorphosed vapours, and waters, than pure elemental air: for, the pure elemental air, is, in my opinion, more searching and penetrating, than light; by reason light may be more easily eclipsed, or stopt; when as air will search every pore, and every creature, to get entrance. chap. vi. of the innate figurative motion of fire. the innate figurative motions of elemental fire, seem the most difficult to human perception, and conception: for, by the agilness, it seems to be more pure than the other sorts of elements; yet, by the light, or visibleness, it seems more gross than air; but, by the dilating property, it seems to be more rare than air, at least, as rare as air. by the glassie or shining property, it seems to be of smooth and even parts: also, by the piercing and wounding property, fire seems to be composed of sharp-pointed figurative motions: wherefore, the innate figurative motions of fire, are, pure, rare, smooth, sharp points, which can move in circles, squares, triangles, parallels, or any other sorts of exterior figures, without an alteration of its interior nature; as may be observed by many sorts of fuels: as also, it can contract and dilate its parts, without any alteration of its innate property. chap. vii. of the productions of elemental fire. it is to be observed, that points of fire are more numerous, and more suddenly propagating, than any other element, or any other creature that is subject to human perception. but, sparks of fire, resemble the seeds of vegetables, in this, that as vegetables will not encrease in all sorts of soyles, alike; neither will the points of fire, in all sorts of fuel, alike. and, as vegetables produce different effects in several soyls; so doth fire on several fuels: as for example, the seeds of vegetables do not work the same effect in a birds crop, as in the earth: for, there they encrease the bird by digestion; but, in the ground, they encrease their own issue (as i may say): so fire, in some fuels, doth destroy it self, and occasions the fuel to be more consumed; when as, in other sorts of fuel, fire encreases extreamly. but fire, as all other creatures, cannot subsist single of it self, but must have food and respiration; which proves, fire is not an immaterial motion. also, fire hath enemies, as well as friends; and some are deadly, namely, water, or watry liquors. also, fire is forced to comply with the figurative motions of those creatures it is joyned to: for, all fuels will not burn, or alter, alike. chap. viii. of flame. _flame_ is the rarest part of fire: and though the fuel of flame be of a vaporous and smoaky substance; yet surely, there are pure flames, which are perfect fires: and, for proof, we may observe, that flame will dilate and run, as it were, to catch smoak: but, when the smoak is above the flame, if it be higher than the flame can extend, it contracts back to the fiery body. but, flame doth somewhat resemble that we name _natural light_: but yet, in my opinion, light is not flame; nor hath it any fiery property, although it be such a sort of extenuating or dilating actions, as flame hath. chap. ix. of the two sorts of fire most different. there are many sorts of fires: but two sorts are most opposite; that is, the hot, glowing, burning, bright, shining fire; and that sort of fire we name a _dead, dull fire_; as, vitriol fires, cordial fires, corrosive fires, feverish fires, and numerous other sorts; and every several sort, hath some several property: as for example, there is greater difference between the fiery property of oyl, and the fiery property of vitriol: for, oyl is neither exteriorly hot, nor burning; whereas vitriol is exteriorly burning, though not exteriorly hot: but, the difference of these sorts of fires, is, that the actions of elemental fire, are to ascend, rather than to descend: and the dull, dead fire, is rather apt to descend, than ascend; that is, to pierce, or dilate, either upwards, or downwards: but, they are both of dilating and dividing natures. but this is to be noted, that all sorts of heats, or hotness, are not fire. also it is to be noted, that all fires are not shining. chap. x. of dead or dull fires. of _dull, dead fires_, some sorts seem to be of a mixt sort: as for example, vitriol, and the like, seem to be exteriorly, of the figurative motions of fire; and interiorly, of the figurative motions of water, or of watry liquors: and oyl is of fiery figurative motions, interiorly; and of liquid figurative motions, exteriorly; which is the cause that the fiery properties of oyl cannot be altered, without a total dissolution of their natures. but, such sorts whose fiery figurative motions are exterior, as being not their innate nature, may be divided from those other natural parts they were joyned to, without altering their innate nature. chap. xi. of the occasional actions of fire. all creatures have not only innate figurative motions that cause them to be such or such a sort of creature; but, they have such and such actions, that cause such and such effects: also, every creature is occasioned to particular actions, by forrein objects; many times to improper actions, and sometimes to ruinous actions, even to the dissolution of their nature: and, of all creatures, fire is the most ready to occasion the most mischief; at least, disorders: for, where it can get entrance, it seldom fails of causing such a disturbance, as occasions a ruine. the reason is, that most creatures are porous: for, all creatures, subsisting by each other, must of necessity have _egress_ and _regress_, being composed of interior and exterior corporeal motions. and fire, being the sharpest figurative motion, is apt to enter into the smallest pores. but some may ask, _whether fire is porous it self?_ i answer: that having respiration, it is a sufficient proof that it is porous: for, fire dyes if it hath not air. but some may say, _how can a point be porous?_ i answer, that a point is composed of parts, and therefore may very well be porous: for, there is no such thing as a single part in nature, and therefore, not a single point. also, some may say, _if there be pores in nature, there may be vacuum_. i answer, that, in my opinion, there is not; because there is no empty pores in nature: pores signifying only an _egress_ and _regress_ of parts. chap. xii. fire hath not the property to change and rechange. of all the elemental creatures, _fire_ is the least subject to change: for, though it be apt to occasion other creatures to alter; yet it keeps close to its own properties, and proper actions: for, it cannot change, and rechange, as water can. also, natural air is not apt to change and rechange, as water: for, though it can (as all the elements) divide and join its parts, without altering the property of its nature: yet, it cannot readily alter, and alter again, its natural properties, as water can. the truth is, water and fire, are opposite in all their properties: but, as fire is, of all the elements, the furthest from altering: so water is, of all the elements, the most subject to alter: for, all circular figures are apt to variety. chap. xiii. of the innate figurative motions of water. the nature of _water_ is, rare, fluid, moist, liquid, wet, glutinous, and glassie. likewise, water is apt to divide and unite its parts, most of which properties are caused by several sorts of dilatations, or extenuations: but, the interior, or innate figure of water, is a circular line. but yet, it is to be observed, that there are many several sorts of waters, as there are many several sorts of airs, fires, and earths, and so of all creatures: for, some waters are more rare than others, some more leight, and some more heavy; some more clear, and some more dull; some salt, some sharp; some bitter, some more fresh, or sweet; some have cold effects, some hot effects: all which is caused by the several figurative motions of several sorts of waters: but, the nature of water is such, as it can easily alter, or change, and rechange, and yet keep its interior, or innate nature or figure. but this is also to be observed, that the dilating or extenuating circle of water, is of a middle degree, as between two extreams. chap. xiv. the nature or property of water. wetness, which is the interior or innate property, or nature of water, is, in my opinion, caused by some sort of dilatations or extenuations. as, all droughts, or dryness, are caused by some sorts of contractions; so, all moistures, liquors, and wets, by dilatations: yet, those extenuations, or dilatations, that cause wet, must be of such a sort of dilatations, as are proper to wet; _viz._ such a sort of extenuations, as are circular extenuations; which do dilate, or extenuate, in a smooth, equal dilatation, from the center, to the circumference; which extenuations, or dilatations, are of a middle degree; for otherwise, the figure of water might be extended beyond the degree of wet; or, not extended to the degree of wet. and it is to be observed, that there is such a degree as only causes moistness, and another to cause liquidness, the third to cause wetness: for, though moistness and liquidness are in the way of wetness; yet, they are not that which we name wet: also, all that is soft, or smooth, is not wet; nor is all that is liquid, or flowing, wet: for, some sorts of air are liquid and flowing, but not wet: nay, flame is liquid and flowing, but yet quite opposite from wet. dust is flowing, but neither liquid or wet, in its nature. and hair and feathers are soft and smooth, but neither liquid, nor wet. but, as i said, water is of such a nature, as to have the properties of soft, smooth, moist, liquid, and wet; and is also of such flowing properties, caused by such a sort of extenuating circles as are of a middle or mean degree: but yet, there are many several sorts of liquors, and wets, as we may perceive in fruit, herbs, and the like: but, all sorts of wets, and liquors, are of a watry kind, though of a different sort. but, as i have said, all things that are fluid, are not wet; as, melted metal, flame, light, and the like, are fluid, but not wet: and smoak and oyl are of another sort of liquidness, than water, or juyce; but yet they are not wet: and that which causes the difference of different sorts of waters, and watry liquors, are the differences of the watry circular lines; as, some are edged, some are pointed, some are twisted, some are braided, some are flat, some are round, some ruff, some smooth; and so after divers several forms or figures: and yet are perfect circles, and of some such a degree of extenuations or dilatations. chap. xv. of the alteration of the exterior figurative motion of water. as i formerly said, the figurative motions of the innate nature of water, is a sort of extenuating; as being an equal, smooth circle: which is the cause water is rare, fluid, moist, liquid, and wet. but, the exterior figurative motions of the watry circle, may be edged, pointed, sharp, blunt, flat, round, smooth, ruff, or the like; which may be either divided, or altered, without any alteration of the innate nature, or property: as for example, salt-water may be made fresh, or the salt parts divided from the watry circle: the like of other sorts of waters; and yet the nature of water remains. chap. xvi. of oyl, and vitriol. the exterior figurative motions of _oyl_, are so much like those of _water_, as, to be fluid, smooth, soft, moist, and liquid, although not perfectly wet: but, the interior figurative motions of oyl, are of that sort of fire, that we name a _dull, dead fire_: and the difference between _salt waters_, _vitriol_ or the like, and _oyl_, is, that the exterior figurative motions of _vitriol_ and _salt waters_, are of a sort of fire; whereas it is the interior figurative motions of oyl, or the like, that are of those sorts of fire; and that is the reason that the fiery motions of oyl cannot be altered, as the fiery motions of _vitriol_ may. but this is to be noted, that although the interior figurative motions of oyl, are of such a sort of fiery motions; yet, not just like those of _vitriol_; and are not burning, corroding, or wounding, as _vitriols, corrosives_, and the like, are: for, those are somewhat more of the nature of bright shining fires, than oyls. chap. xvii. of mineral and sulphureous waters. in _sulphureous_ and _mineral waters_, the _sulphureous_ and _mineral_ corporeal motions, are exterior, and not interior, like salt waters: but, there are several sorts of such waters; also, some are occasionally, others naturally so affected: for, some waters running through sulphureous, or mineral mines, gather, like a rowling stone, some of the loose parts of gravel, or sand; which, as they stick or cleave to the rowling stone; so they do to the running waters; as we may perceive by those waters that spring out of chalk, clay, or lime grounds, which will have some tinctures of the lime, chalk, or clay; and the same happens to minerals. but, some are naturally sulphureous; as for example, some sorts of hot baths are as naturally sulphureous, as the sea-water is salt: but, all those effects of minerals, sulphurs, and the like, are dividable from, and also may be joyn'd to, the body of water, without any disturbance to the nature of water; as may be proved by salt-water, which will cause fresh meat to be salt; and salt meat will cause fresh-water to be salt. as for hot baths, those have hot figurative motions, but not burning: and the moist, liquid, and wet nature of water, makes it apt to joyn, and divide, to, and from other sorts of motions; as also, to and from its own sort. chap. xviii. the cause of the ebbing and flowing of the sea. the nature of water is to flow; so that all sorts of waters will flow, if they be not obstructed: but it is not the nature of water, to ebb. neither can water flow beyond the power of its quantity: for, a little water will not flow so far as a great one. but, i do not mean by flowing, the falling of water from some descent; but, to flow upon a level: for, as i have said, all waters do naturally flow, if they be not obstructed; but, few sorts of water, besides sea-water, ebbs. as for the exterior figurative motions of water, in the action of flowing, they are an oval, or a half circle, or a half moon; where the middle parts of the half moon, or circle, are fuller than the two ends. also, the figure of a half moon, or half circle, is concave on the inside, and convex on the outside of the circle: but, these figurative motions, in a great quantity of water, are bigg and full, which we name _waves of water_; which waves flowing fast upon each other, presses each other forward, until such time as the half circle divides: for, when the bow of the half circle is over-bent, or stretched, it divides into the middle, which is most extended: and when a half circle (which is a whole wave of water) is divided, the divided parts fall equally back on each side of the flowing waves: so, every wave dividing, after that manner, in the full extension, it causes the motion of ebbing, that is, to flow back, as it flow'd forward: for, the divided parts falling back, and joining as they meet, makes the head of the half circle, where the ends of the half circle were; and the convex, where the concave was; by which action, the ebbing parts are become the flowing parts. and the reason that it ebbs and flows by degrees, is, that the flowing half circles require so much time to be at the utmost extension. also, every wave, or half circle, divides not all at one time, but one after another: for, two bodies cannot be in one place at one point of time; and until the second, third, and so the rest, flow as far as the first, they are not at their full extension. and thus the sea, or such a great body of water, must flow, and ebb, as being its nature to flow; and the flowing figure, being over-extended, by endeavouring to flow beyond its power, causes a dividing of the extended parts, which is the cause of the ebbing. but, whether this opinion of mine, be as probable as any of the former opinions concerning the ebbing and flowing of the sea, i cannot judg: but i would not be mistaken; for the flowing of the water, is according to its quantity; for, the further it flows, the fainter, or weaker it is. chap. xix. of overflows. as for _overflows_, there be many; and many more would be, if the waters were not hindred and obstructed by man's inventions. but, some overflows are very uncertain and irregular; others, certain and regular, as, the flowing of _nilus_ in _egypt_: but as for the distance of time of its flowing, it may proceed from the far journey of those flowing-waters: and, the time of its ebbing, may be attributed to the great quantity of water; so that the great quantity of water, will cause a longer or a shorter time in the flowing or ebbing; and certainly the waters are as long a flowing back, as flowing forward. as for spring tides, they are only in such a time when there is a naturall issue of a greater quantity of water: so that spring-tides are but once a month, and single-tides in so many hours: but, many several occasions, may make the tides to be more or less full. as for double-tides, they are occasioned through the irregular dividing of the half-circle; as, when they divide not orderly, but faster than they orderly should do; which, falling back in a crowd, and being, by that means, obstructed, so that they cannot get forward, they are necessitated to flow, where they ebb'd. the reason the tides flow through streams of running-waters, is, that the tide is stronger than the stream: but, if the stream and tides pass through each other, then the tide and stream are somewhat like duellers together, which make passes and passages for their conveniency. chap. xx. of the figure of ice and snow. a circle may not only extend and contract it self without dividing; but may draw it self into many several figures, as squares, or triangles: as also, into many other figures mix'd of squares, triangles, cubes, or the like; being partly one, and partly, another; and into other several ways, and after several manners; which is the reason, water may appear in many several postures of snow, ice, hail, frost, and the like: and, in my opinion, when the water-circle is triangular, it is snow; when the circle is square, it is ice: as for hail, they are but small pieces of ice; that is, small parts, or few drops of water, changed into ice; and those several parts moving after several manners, make the exterior figures, after several shapes; as, great bodies of ice will be of many several shapes, occasioned by many or fewer parts, and by the several postures of those parts: but, such figures, though they are of ice, yet, are not the innate figures of ice. the same is to be said of snow. but, the reason of these my opinions concerning the figures of ice and snow, is, that snow is leighter than the water it self; and ice is heavier, at least, as heavy. and the reason snow is so leight, is, that a triangular figure hath no poyse, being an odd figure; whereas a square is poysed by even and equal lines, and just number of points, as, two to two: but, a triangle is two to one. also, a circle is a poysed figure, as being equal every way, from the center to the circumference; and from the circumference to the center, all the lines drawing to one point. but, mistake me not; for i treat (concerning the figures of snow and ice) only of those figures that cause water to be snow or ice; and not of the exterior figures of snow and ice, which are occasioned by the order or disorder of adjoining parts: for, several parts of water, may order themselves into numerous several figures, which concern not the nature of water, as it is water, snow, or ice: as for example, many men in a battel, or upon ceremony, joyn into many several figures or forms; which figures or forms, are of no concern to their innate nature. also, the several figures or forms of several houses, or several sorts of building in one house, are of no concern to the innate nature of the materials. the like for the exterior figures of ice and snow; and therefore _microscopes_ may deceive the artist, who may take the exterior for the interior figure; but there may be great difference between them. chap. xxi. of the change and rechange of water. _water_ being of a circular figurative motion, is, as it were, but one part, having no divisions; and therefore can more easily change and rechange it self into several postures, viz. into the posture of a triangle, or square; or can be dilated or extended into a larger compass, or contracted into a lesser compass; which is the cause it can turn into vapour and vaporous air; or into slime, or into some grosser figure: for example, water can extend it self beyond the proper degrees of water, into the degree of vapour; and the circle, extending further than the degree of a vaporous circle, is extended into a vaporous air; and if the vaporous airy circle be extreamly extended, it becomes so small, as it becomes to be a sharp edg, and so, in a degree, next to fire; at least, to have a hot effect: but, if it extends further than an edg, the circle breaks into flashes of fire, like lightning, which is a flowing flame: for, being produced from water, it hath the property of flowing, or streaming, as water hath, as we may perceive by the effects of some few parts of water flung on a bright fire; for those few drops of water being not enough to quench the fire, straight dilate so extreamly, that they break into a flame; or else cause the fire to be more brisk and bright: and as the water-circle can be turned into vapour, air, and flame, by extension; so, it can be turned into snow, hail, or ice, by contraction. chap. xxii. of water quenching fire; and fire evaporating water. there is such an antipathy betwixt _water_ and _fire_, (i mean bright shining fire) that they never meet body to body, but fire is in danger to be quenched out, if there be a sufficient quantity of water. but it is to be observed, that it is not the actual coldness of water, that quenches out fire; for, scalding-water will quench out fire: wherefore, it is the wetness that quenches out fire; which wetness choaks the fire, as a man that is drown'd: for, water being not fit for man's respiration, because it is too thick, choaks and smuthers him; and the same doth water to fire: for, though air is of a proper temper for respiration, both to some sorts of animals, such as man; as also, to fire: yet, water is not: which is most proper for other sorts of animals, namely, fish; as also, for some sorts of animals that are of a mixt kind or sort, partly fish, and partly flesh: to which sort of creatures, both air and water are both equally proper for their respiration; or, their respiration equal to either: for certainly, all sorts of creatures have respiration, by reason all creatures subsist by each other; i say, _by each other_, not _of each other_. but, there are many several sorts and kinds of respirations; as concerning water and fire, though a sufficient quantity of water, to fire, doth always choak, smuther, or quench out the fire's life, if joyn'd body to body; yet, when there is another body between those two bodies, water is in danger to be infected with the fire's heat; the fire first infecting the body next to it; and that body infecting the water: by which infection, water is consumed, either by a languishing hectick fever; or, by a raging boyling fever; and the life of water evaporates away. chap. xxiii. of inflamable liquors. there are many bodies of mixt natures; as for example, wine, and all strong liquors, are partly of a watry nature, and partly of a fiery nature; but, 'tis of that sort we name a _dead_, or _dull fire_: but, being of such a mixt nature, they are both apt to quench bright fire, as also, apt to burn or flame; so that such sorts are both inflamable, and quenchable. but, some have more of the fiery nature; and others more of the watry nature; and, by those effects, we may perceive, that not only different, but opposite figurative motions, do well agree in one society. chap. xxiv. of thunder. i observe, that all tempestuous sounds have some resemblances to the flowing of waters, either in great and ruffling waves; or, when the waters flow in such sort, as to break in pieces against hard and rugged rocks; or run down great precipices, or against some obstruction. and the like sound hath the blowings of wind, or the clappings of thunder; which causes me to be of opinion, that thunder is occasioned by a discord amongst some water-circles in the higher region; which, pressing and beating upon each other in a confused manner, cause a confused sound, by reason all circles are concave within the bow, and convex without; which is a hollow figure, although no vacuum: which hollow figure, causes quick repetitions and replies; which replies and repetitions, we name rebounds but, replies are not rebounds; for, rebounds are pressures and re-actions; whereas repetitions are without pressure, but re-action is not: and, replies are of several parts; as, one part to reply to another. but for _thunder_, it is occasioned both by pressures and re-actions; as also, replies of extended water-circles, which make a kind or sort of confusion, and so a confused sound, which we name _horrid_; and, according to their discord, the sound is more or less terrifying, or violent. but this is to be noted, that as _thunder_ is caused by undivided or broken circles; so _lightning_ is caused by broken or divided circles, that are extended beyond the power of the nature of the water-circle; and when the circle is extreamly extended, it divides it self into a straight line, and becomes a flowing flame. chap. xxv. of vapour, smoak, wind, and clouds. _vapour_ and _smoak_ are both fluid bodies: but, smoak is more of the nature of oyl, than water; and vapour more of the nature of water, than oyl; they are dividable: and may be join'd, as other elements: also, they are of a metamorphosing nature, as to change and rechange; but, when they are metamorphosed into the form of air, that air is a gross air, and is, as we say, a corruptible air. as for vapour, it is apt to turn into wind: for, when it is rarified beyond the nature of vapour, and not so much as into the nature of air, it turns into some sorts of wind. i say, some sorts: and certainly, the strongest winds are made of the grossest vapours. as for smoak, it is apt to turn into some sorts of lightning; i say, apt: for, both vapour and smoak can turn into many sorts of metamorphosed elements. as for wind, it proceeds either from rarified vapour, or contracted air. and there are many sorts of vapours, smoaks, and winds; all which sorts of vapours and smoaks, are apt to ascend: but, wind is of a more level action. as for clouds, they cannot be composed of a natural air; because natural air is too rare a body to make clouds. wherefore, clouds are composed of vapour and smoak: for, when vapour and smoak ascends up high without transformation, they gather into clouds, some higher, some lower, according to their purity: for, the purer sort (as i may say for expression-sake) ascends the highest, as being the most agil. but, concerning the figurative motions of vapour and smoak, they are circles; but of winds, they are broken parts of circular vapours: for, when the vaporous circle is extended beyond its nature of vapour, the circumference of the circle breaks into perturbed parts; and if the parts be small, the wind is, in our perception, sharp, pricking, and piercing: but, if the parts are not so small, then the wind is strong and pressing: but wind, being rarified vapour, is so like air, as it is not perceived by human sight, though it be perceived by human touch. but, as there are hot vapours, cold vapours, sharp vapours, moist vapours, dry vapours, subtil vapours, and the like; so there is such sorts of winds. but, pray do not mistake me, when i say, that some sorts of winds are broken and perturbed circles, as if i meant, such as those of lightning: for, those of lightning, are extended beyond the degree of air; and those of vapours, are not extended to the degree of air: also, those of lightning, are not perturbed; and those of wind, are perturbed. again, those of lightning, flow in streams of smooth, small, even lines; those of wind, in disordered parts and fragments. chap. xxvi. of wind. _wind_ and _fire_ have some resemblance in some of their particular actions: as for example, wind and fire endeavour the disturbance of other creatures, occasioning a separating and disjoining of parts. also, wind is both an enemy and friend to fire: for wind, in some sorts of its actions, will assist fire; and in other actions, dissipates fire, nay, blows it out: but certainly, the powerful forces of wind, proceed not so much from solidity, as agility: for, soft, weak, quick motions, are far more powerful, than strong, slow motions; because, quick replies are of great force, as allowing no time of respit. but this is to be observed, that wind hath some watry effects: for, the further water flows, the weaker and fainter it is: so the wind, the further it blows, the weaker and fainter it is. but this is to be observed, that according to the agilness or slowness of the corporeal motions; or, according to the number; or, according to the manner of the compositions, or joynings, or divisions; or, according to the regularity or irregularity of the corporeal figurative motions, so are the effects. chap. xxvii. of light. water, air, fire, and light; are all rare and fluid creatures; but they are of different sorts of rarities and fluities: and, though light seems to be extreamly rare and fluid; yet, light is not so rare and fluid, as pure air is, because it is subject to that sort of human perception we name _sight_; but yet, it is not subject to any of the other perceptions: and, pure air is only subject to the perception of respiration, which seems to be a more subtil perception than sight; and that occasions me to believe, that air is more rare and pure, than light: but howsoever, i conceive the figurative motions of light, to be extraordinary even, smooth, agil lines of corporeal motions: but, as i said before, there are many sorts of lights that are not elemental lights; as, glow-worms tails, cats eyes, rotten wood, fish bones, and that human light which is made in dreams, and infinite other lights, not subject to our perception: which proves, that light may be without heat. but, whether the light of the sun, which we name _natural light_, is naturally hot, may be a dispute: for, many times, the night is hotter than the day. chap. xxviii. of darkness. the figurative motions of _light_ and _darkness_, are quite opposite; and the figurative motions of colours, are as a mean between both, being partly of the nature of both: but, as the figurative motions of light, in my opinion, are rare, straight, equal, even, smooth figurative motions: those of darkness are uneven, ruff, or rugged, and more dense. indeed, there is as much difference between light and darkness, as between earth and water; or rather, between water and fire; because each is an enemy to other; and, being opposite, they endeavour to out-power each other. but this is to be noted, that darkness is as visible to human perception, as light; although the nature of darkness is, to obscure all other objects besides it self: but, if darkness could not be perceived, the optick perception could not know when it is dark; nay, particular dark figurative motions, are as visible in a general light, as any other object; which could not be, if darkness was only a privation of light, as the opinions of many learned men are: but, as i said before, darkness is of a quite different figurative motion, from light; so different, that it is just opposite: for, as the property of light is to divulge objects; so, the property of darkness is to obscure them: but, mistake me not; i mean, that light and darkness have such properties to our perception: but, whether it is so to all perceptions, is more than i know, or is, as i believe, known to any other human creature. chap. xxix. of colours. as for _colour_, it is the same with body: for surely, there is no such thing in nature, as a colourless body, were it as small as an atom; nor no such thing as a figureless body; or such a thing as a placeless body: so that matter, colour, figure, and place, is but one thing, as one and the same body: but matter, being self-moving, causes varieties of figurative actions, by various changes. as for colours, they are only several corporeal figurative motions; and as there are several sorts of creatures, so there are several sorts of colours: but, as there are those, man names artificial creatures; so there are artificial colours. but, though to describe the several species of all the several sorts of colours, be impossible; yet we may observe, that there is more variety of colours amongst vegetables and animals, than amongst minerals and elements: for, though the rain-bow is of many fine colours; yet, the rain-bow hath not so much variety, as many particular vegetables, or animals have; but every several colour, is a several figurative motion; and the brighter the colours are, the smoother and evener are the figurative motions. and as for shadows of colours, they are caused when one sort of figurative motions is as the foundation: for example, if the fundamental figurative motion, be a deep blew, or red, or the like, then all the variations of other colours have a tincture. but, in short, all shadows have a ground of some sort of dark figurative motions. but, the opinions of many learned men, are, that all colours are made by the several positions of light, and are not inherent in any creature; of which opinion i am not: for, if that were so, every creature would be of many several colours; neither would any creature produce after their own _species_: for, a parrot would not produce so fine a bird as her self; neither would any creature appear of one and the same colour, but their colour would change according to the positions of light; and in a dark day, in my opinion, all fine coloured birds, would appear like crows; and fine coloured flowers, appear like the herb named night-shade; which is not so. i do not say, that several positions of light may not cause colours; but i say, the position of light is not the maker of all colours; for, _dyers_ cannot cause several colours by the positions of light. chap. xxx. of the exterior motions of the planets. by the _exterior motions of the planets_, we may believe their exterior shape is spherical: for, it is to be observed, that all exterior actions are according to their exterior shape: but, by reason vegetables and minerals have not such sorts of exterior motions or actions, as animals; some men are of opinion, they have not sensitive life; which opinion proceeds from a shallow consideration: neither do they believe the elements are sensible, although they visibly perceive their progressive motions; and yet believe all sorts of animals to have sense, only because they have progressive motions. chap. xxxi. of the sun, and planets, and seasons. the sun, moon, planets, and all those glittering starrs we see, are several sorts of that man names _elemental creatures_: but man, having not an infinite perception, cannot have an infinite perceptive knowledg: for, though the rational perception is more subtil than the sensitive; yet, the particular parts cannot perceive much further than the exterior parts of objects: but, human sense and reason cannot perceive what the sun, moon, and starrs are; as, whether solid, or rare; or, whether the sun be a body of fire; or the moon, a body of water, or earth; or, whether the fixed starrs be all several suns; or, whether they be other kinds or sorts of worlds. but certainly, all creatures do subsist by each other, because nature seems to be an infinite united body, without _vacuum_. as for the several seasons of the year, they are divided into four parts: but the several changes and tempers of the four seasons, are so various, altering every moment, as it would be an endless work, nay, impossible, for one creature to perform: for, though the _almanack-makers_ pretend to foreknow all the variations of the elements; yet, they can tell no more than just what is the constant and set-motions; but not the variations of every hour, or minute; neither can they tell any thing, more than their exterior motions. chap. xxxii. of air corrupting dead bodies. some are of opinion, _that air is a corrupter, and so a dissolver of all dead creatures, and yet is the preserver of all living creatures._ if so, air hath an infinite power: but, all the reason i can perceive for this opinion, is, that man perceives, that when any raw (or that we name _dead_) _flesh_, is kept from the air, it will not stink, or corrupt, so soon as when it is in the air: but yet it is well known, that extream cold air will keep flesh from corrupting. another reason is, that a flye entomb'd in _amber_, being kept from air, the flye remains in her exterior shape as perfectly as if she were alive. i answer, the cause of that may be, that the figurative motions of _amber_, may sympathize with the exterior consistent motions of the fly, which may cause the exterior shape of the flye to continue, although the innate nature be altered. but air is, as all other creatures are, both beneficial, and hurtful to each other; for nature is poysed with opposites: for we may perceive, that several creatures are both beneficial and hurtful to each other: as for example, a bear kills a man; and, on the other side, a bear's skin will cure a man of some disease. also, a _wild-boar_ will kill a man; and the _boar_'s flesh will nourish a man. fire will burn a man, and preserve a man; and millions of such examples may be proposed. the same may be said of air, which may occasion good or evil to other creatures; as, the _amber_ may occasion the death of a fly; and, on the other side, may occasion the preservation, or continuation of the fly's exterior figure, or form: but, nature being without _vacuum_, all her parts must be be joined; and her actions being poysed, there must be both sympathetical, and antipathetical actions, amongst all creatures. the thirteenth part. chap. i. of the innate figurative motions of metals. all sorts of _metals_, in my opinion, are of some sorts of circular motions; but not like that sort, that is water: for, the water-circle doth extend outward, from the center; whereas, in my opinion, the circular motion of metal, draws inward, from the circumference. also, in my opinion, the circular motions are dense, flat, edged, even, and smooth; for, all bright and glassie bodies are smooth: and, though edges are wounding figures; yet, edges are rather of the nature of a line, than of a point. again, all motions that tend to a center, are more fixt than those that extend to a circumference: but, it is according to the degree of their extensions, that those creatures are more or less fixt; which is the cause that some sorts of metals are more fixt than others; and that causes gold to be the most fixt of all other sorts of metals; and seems to be too strong for the effects of fire. but this is to be noted, that some metals are more near related to some sort, than other: as for example, there is no lead, without some silver; so that silver seems to be but a well-digested lead. and certainly, copper hath some near relation to gold, although not so near related, as lead is to silver. chap. ii. of the melting of metals. _metals_ may be occasioned, by fire, to slack their retentive motions, by which they become fluid; and as soon as they are quit of their enemy, _fire_, the figurative motions of metal return to their proper order: and this is the reason that occasions metal to melt, which is, to flow: but yet, the flowing motion is but like the exterior, and not the innate actions of: for, the melting actions do not alter the innate actions; that is, they do not alter from the nature of being metal: but, if the exterior nature be occasioned, by the excess of those exterior actions, to alter their retentive actions, then metal turns to that we name _dross_; and as much as metal loses of its weight, so much of the metal dissolves; that is, so much of those innate motions are quite altered: but, gold hath such an innate retentiveness, that though fire may cause an extream alteration of the exterior actions; yet, it cannot alter the interior motions. the like is of quick-silver. and yet gold is not a god, to be unalterable, though man knows not the way, and fire has not the power to alter the innate nature of gold. chap. iii. of burning, melting, boyling, and evaporating. _burning, melting, boyling_, and _evaporating_, are, for the most part, occasioned by fire, or somewhat that is, in effect, hot: i say, _occasioned_, by reason they are not the actions of fire, but the actions of those bodies that melts, boyls, evaporates, or burns; which being near, or joyned to fire, are occasioned so to do: as for example, put several sorts of creatures, or things, into a fire, and they shall not burn alike: for, leather and metal do not burn alike; for metal flows, and leather shrinks up, and water evaporates, and wood converts it self, as it were, into fire; which other things do not; which proves, that all parts act their own actions. for, though some corporeal motions may occasion other corporeal motions to act after such or such a manner; yet, one part cannot have another part's motion, because matter can neither give nor take motion. chap. iv. of stone. all minerals seem to be some kinds of dense and retentive motions: but yet, those kinds of dense and retentive motions, seem to be of several sorts; which is the cause of several sorts of minerals, and of several sorts of stones and metals. also, every several sort, hath several sorts of properties: but, in my opinion, some sorts are caused by hot contractions and retentions; others, by cold contractions and retentions; as also, by hot or cold densations: and the reason why i believe so, is, that i observe that many artificial stones are produced by heat: but ice, which is but in the first degree of a cold density, seems somewhat like transparent stones; so that several sorts of stones, are produced by several sorts of cold and hot contractions and densations. chap. v. of the loadstone. as for the _loadstone_, it is not more wonderful in attracting iron, than beauty, which admirably attracts the optick perception of human creatures: and who knows, but the north and south air may be the most proper air for the respiration of the _loadstone_; and, that iron may be the most proper food for it. but, by reason there hath been so many learned men puzled in their opinions concerning the several effects of the _loadstone_, i dare not venture to treat of the nature, and natural effects of that mineral; neither have i had much experience of it: but i observe, that iron, and some sorts of stone, are nearly allied; for, there is not any iron, but what is growing, or is intermixt and united in some sorts of stone, as that which we call _iron-stone_. wherefore, it is no wonder if the _loadstone_, and iron, should be apt to embrace one another. chap. vi. of bodies, apt to ascend or descend. there are so many several causes that occasion some sorts of creatures to be apt to _ascend_, and others to _descend_, as they are neither known, or can be conceived by one finite creature: for, it is not rarity or density, that causes levity and gravity; but, the frame or form of a creature's exterior shape, or parts. as for example: a flake of snow is as rare as a downy feather; yet, the feather is apt to ascend, and the flake of snow to descend. also dust, that is hard and dense, is apt to ascend; and water, that is soft and rare, is more apt to descend. again, a bird, that is both a bigger, and a more dense creature by much, than a small worm; yet, a bird can flye up into the air, when as a leight worm cannot ascend, or flye, having not such a sort of shape. also, a great heavy ship, as big as an ordinary house, fraughted with iron, will swim upon the face of the water; when as a small bullet, no bigger than a _hasle-nut_, will sink to the bottom of the sea. a great bodied bird will flye up into the air; when as a small worm lies on the earth, with a slow kind of crawling, and cannot ascend. all which is caused by the manner of their shapes, and not the matter of gravity and levity. chap. vii. why heavy bodies descend more forcibly than leight bodies ascend. although the manner of the shape of several creatures, is the chief cause of their _ascent_, and _descent_; yet, gravity and levity, doth occasion more or less agility: for, a heavy body shall descend with more force, than a leight body ascend: and the reason is, not only that there may be more parts in a heavy body, than a leight; but, that in a descent, every corporeal motion seems to press upon each other; which doubles and trebles the strength, weight, and force, as we may perceive in the ascending and descending of the flight of birds, especially of hawks; of which, the weight of the body is some hindrance to the ascent, but an advantage to the descent: but yet, the shape of the bird hath some advantage by the weight, in such sort, that the weight doth not so much hinder the ascent, as it doth assist the descent. chap. viii. of several sorts of densities and rarities, gravities and levities. there are different sorts of densities and rarities, softness and hardness, levities and gravities: as for example, the density of earth is not like the density of stone; nor the density of stone, like the density of metal: nor are all the parts of the earth dense alike; nor all stones, nor all metals; as we may perceive in clay, sand, chalk, and lime-grounds. also, we may perceive difference between lead, tynne, copper, iron, silver, and gold; and between marble, alablaster, walling-stone, diamonds, crystals, and the like: and so much difference there is between one and the same kind, that some particulars of one sort, shall more resemble another kind, than their own: as for example, gold and diamonds resemble each other's nature, more than lead doth gold; or diamonds, crystal; i say, in their densities. also, there is a great difference of the rarity, gravity, and levity of several sorts of waters, and of several sorts of air. chap. ix. of vegetables. _vegetables_ are of numerous sorts, and every sort of very different natures: as for example, some are reviving cordials; others, deadly poyson; some are purgers, others are nourishers: some have hot effects, some cold; some dry, some moist; some bear fruit, some bears no fruit; some appear all the year young; others appear but part of the year young, and part old; some are many years a producing; others are produced in few hours; some will last many hundred years; others will decay in the compass of few hours: some seem to dye one part of the year, and revive again in another part of the year: some rot and consume in the earth, after such a time; and will continue in perfection, if parted from the earth. others will wither and decay, as soon as parted from the earth. some are of a dense nature, some of a rare nature; some grow deep into the earth; others grow high out of the earth; some will only produce in dry soyls, some in moist: some will produce only in water, as we may perceive by some ponds; others on houses of brick or stone. also, some grow out of stone; as, many stones will have a green moss: some are produced by sowing their seed into the earth; others, by setting their roots, or slips, into the earth: others again, by joyning or engrafting one plant into another: so that there is much variety of vegetables, and those of such different natures, that they are not only different sorts, but are variety of effects of one and the same sort; and it requires not only the study of one human creature, or many human creatures; but, of all the human creatures in all nations and ages, to know them; which is the reason, that those that have writ of the natures of herbs, flowers, roots, and fruits, may be much mistaken. but i, living more constantly in my study, than in my garden, shall not venture to treat much of the particular natures, and natural effects of vegetables. chap. x. of the production of vegetables. tis no wonder, that some sorts of _vegetables_ are produced out of stone or brick, (as some that will grow on the top of houses) by reason that brick is made of earth, and stone is generated in the bowels of the earth; which shows they are of an earthly nature or substance. neither is it a wonder that vegetables will grow upon some sorts of water, by reason some sorts of waters may be mixt with some parts of earth. but, i have been credibly informed, that a man whose legg had been cut, and a seed of an oat being gotten into the wound by chance, the oat did sprout out into a green blade of grass: which proves, that vegetables may be produced in several soyls. but 'tis probable, that though many sorts of vegetables may sprout, as barly in water; yet, they cannot produce any of the off-spring of the same sort or kind. but, my thoughts are, at this present, in some dispute; as, whether the earth is a part of the production of vegetables, as being the breeder? or, whether the earth is only parts of respiration, and not parts of production; and so, rather breathing-parts, than breeding-parts, as water to fishes? but, if so, then every particular seed must encrease, not only by a bare transformation of their parts into the first form of production; but, by division of their united parts, must produce many other societies of the same sort; as religious orders, where one convent divides into many convents of the same order; which occasions a numerous encrease. so the several parts of one seed, may divide into many seeds of the same sort, as being of the same _species_; but then, every part of that seed, must be encreased by additional parts; which must be, by nourishing parts: which nourishing parts are, in all probability, earthy parts; or, at least, partly of earthy parts; and partly, of some of the other elemental parts: but, as i have often said, all creatures in nature are assisted, and do subsist, by each other. chap. xi. of replanting vegetables. _replanting of vegetables_, many times, occasions great alterations; in so much as a vegetable, by often replanting, will be so altered, as to appear of another sort of vegetable: the reason is, that several sorts, or parts of soyls, may occasion other sorts of actions, and orders, in one and the same society. but this is to be noted in the lives of many animals, that several sorts of food, make great alterations in their temper and shape; though not to alter their species, yet so as to cause them to appear worse or better: but, this is most visible amongst human creatures, whom some sorts of food will make weak, sick, faint, lean, pale, old, and withered: other sorts of food will make them strong, and healthy, fat, fair, smooth, and ruddy. so some sorts of soyls will cause some vegetables to be larger, brighter, smoother, sweeter, and of more various and glorious colours. chap. xii. of artificial things. _artificial things_, are natural corporeal figurative motions: for, all artificial things are produced by several produced creatures. but, the differences of those productions we name _natural_ and _artificial_, are, that the natural are produced from the producer's own parts; whereas the artificial are produced by composing, or joyning, or mixing several forrein parts; and not any of the particular parts of their composed society: for, artificial things are not produced as animals, vegetables, minerals, or the like: but only, they are certain seral mixtures of some of the divided, or dead parts, as i may say, of minerals, vegetables, elements, and the like. but this is to be noted, that all, or at least, most, are but copied, and not originals. but some may ask, _whether artificial productions have sense, reason, and perception?_ i answer: that if all the rational and sensitive parts of nature, are perceptive, and that no part is without perception; then all artificial productions are perceptive. chap. xiii. of several kinds and sorts of species. according to my opinion, though the _species_ of this world, and all the several kinds and sorts of _species_ in this world, do always continue; yet, the particular parts of one and the same kind or sort of _species_, do not continue: for, the particular parts are perpetually altering their figurative actions. but, by reason some parts compose or unite, as well as some parts dissolve or disunite; all kinds and sorts of _species_, will, and must last so long as nature lasts. but mistake me not, i mean such kinds and sorts of _species_ as we name natural, that is, the fundamental species; but not such _species_, as we name artificial. chap. xiv. of different worlds. tis probable if nature be infinite, there are several kinds and sorts of those species, societies, or creatures, we name _worlds_; which may be so different from the frame, form, species, and properties of this world, and the creatures of this world, as not to be any ways like this world, or the creatures in this world. but mistake me not, i do not mean, not like this world, as it is material and self-moving; but, not of the same species, or properties: as for example, that they have not such kind of creatures, or their properties, as light, darkness, heat, cold, dry, wet, soft, hard, leight, heavy, and the like. but some may say, _that is impossible: for, there can be no world, but must be either light or dark, hot or cold, dry or wet, soft or hard, heavy or leight; and the like_. i answer, that though those effects may be generally beneficial to most of the creatures in this world; yet, not to all the parts of the world: as for example, though light is beneficial to the eyes of animals; yet, to no other part of an animal creature. and, though darkness is obstructive to the eyes of animals; yet, to no other parts of an animal creature. also, air is no proper object for any of the human parts, but respiration. so cold and heat, are no proper objects for any part of a human creature, but only the pores, which are the organs of touch. the like may be said for hard and soft, dry and wet: and since they are not fundamental actions of nature, but particular, i cannot believe, but that there may be such worlds, or creatures, as may have no use of light, darkness, and the like: for, if some parts of this world need them not, nor are any ways beneficial to them, (as i formerly proved) surely a whole world may be, and subsist without them: for these properties, though they may be proper for the form or species of this world; yet, they may be no ways proper for the species of another kind or sort of world: as for example, the properties of a human creature are quite different from other kinds of creatures; the like may be of different worlds: but, in all material worlds, there are self-moving parts, which is the cause there is self-joyning, uniting, and composing; self dividing, or dissolving; self-regularities, and self-irregularities: also, there is perception amongst the parts or creatures of nature; and what worlds or creatures soever are in nature, they have sense and reason, life and knowledg: but, for light and darkness, hot and cold, soft and hard, leight and heavy, dry and wet, and the like; they are all but particular actions of particular corporeal species, or creatures, which are finite, and not infinite: and certainly, there may be, in nature, other worlds as full of varieties, and as glorious and beautiful as this world; and are, and may be more glorious or beautiful, as also, more full of variety than this world, and yet be quite different in all kinds and sorts, from this world: for, this is to be noted, that the different kinds and sorts of species, or creatures, do not make particulars more or less perfect, but according to their kind. and one thing i desire, that my _readers_ would not mistake my meaning, when i say, _the parts dissolve_: for, i do not mean, that matter dissolves; but, that their particular societies dissolve. appendix to the grounds of natural philosophy. the first part. chap. i. whether there can be a substance, that is not a body. what a _substance_, that is not _body_, can be, (as i writ in the first chapter of this book) i cannot imagine; nor, that there is any thing between _something_ and _nothing_. but, some may say, _that spiritual substances are so_. i answer: that spirits must be either material, or immaterial: for, it is impossible for a thing to be between body and no body. others may say, _there may be a substance, that is not a natural substance; but, some sort of substance that is far more pure than the purest natural substance_. i answer: were it never so pure, it would be in the list or circle of body: and certainly, the purest substance, must have the properties of body, as, to be divisible, and capable to be united and compounded; and being divisible and compoundable, it would have the same properties that grosser parts have: but, if there be any difference, certainly the purest substance would be more apt to divide and unite, or compound, than the grosser sort. but, as to those sorts of substance, which some learned men have imagined; in my opinion, they are but the same sort of substance that the vulgar call, _thoughts_, and i name, the _rational parts_; which, questionless, are as truly body, as the grossest parts in nature: but, most human creatures are so troubled with the thoughts of dissolving, and dis-uniting, that they turn fancies and imaginations, into spirits, or spiritual substances; as if all the other parts of their bodies, should become rational parts; that is, that all their parts should turn into such parts as thoughts, which i name, the _rational parts_. but that opinion is impossible: for, nature cannot alter the nature of any part; nor can any part alter its own nature; neither can the rational parts be divided from the sensitive and inanimate parts, by reason those three sorts constitute but one body, as being parts of one body. but, put the case that the rational parts might divide and subsist without the sensitive and inanimate parts; yet, as i said, they must of necessity have the properties and nature of a body, which is, to be divisible, and capable to be united, and so to be parts: for, it is impossible for a body, were it the most pure, to be indivisible. chap. ii. of an immaterial. i cannot conceive how an immaterial can be in nature: for, first, an immaterial cannot, in my opinion, be naturally created; nor can i conceive how an immaterial can produce particular immaterial souls, spirits, or the like. wherefore, an immaterial, in my opinion, must be some uncreated being; which can be no other than god alone. wherefore, created spirits, and spiritual souls, are some other thing than an immaterial: for surely, if there were any other immaterial beings, besides the omnipotent god, those would be so near the divine essence of god, as to be petty gods; and numerous petty gods, would, almost, make the power of an infinite god. but, god is omnipotent, and only god. chap. iii. whether an immaterial be perceivable. whatsoever is corporeal, is perceivable; that is, may be perceived in some manner or other, by reason it hath a corporeal being: but, what being an immaterial hath, no corporeal can perceive. wherefore, no part in nature can perceive an immaterial, because it is impossible to have a perception of that, which is not to be perceived, as not being an object fit and proper for corporeal perception. in truth, an immaterial is no object, because no body. but some may say, that, _a corporeal may have a conception, although not a perception, of an immaterial_. i answer, that, surely, there is an innate notion of god, in all the parts of nature; but not a perfect knowledg: for if there was, there would not be so many several opinions, and religions, amongst one kind, or rather, sort of creatures, as mankind, as there are; insomuch, that there are but few of one and the same opinion, or religion: but yet, that innate notion of god, being in all the parts of nature, god is infinitely and eternally worshipped and adored, although after several manners and ways; yet, all manners and ways, are joyned in one worship, because the parts of nature are joyned into one body. chap. iv. of the differences between god, and nature. god is an eternal creator; nature, his eternal creature. god, an eternal master: nature, god's eternal servant. god is an infinite and eternal immaterial being: nature, an infinite corporeal being. god is immovable, and immutable: nature, moving, and mutable. god is eternal, indivisible, and of an incompoundable being: nature, eternally divisible and compoundable. god, eternally perfect: nature, eternally imperfect. god, eternally inalterable: nature eternally alterable. god, without error: nature, full of irregularities. god knows exactly, or perfectly, nature: nature doth not perfectly know god. god is infinitely and eternally worshipped: nature is the eternal and infinite worshipper. chap. v. all the parts of nature worship god. all creatures (as i have said) have an innate notion of god; and as they have a notion of god, so they have a notion to worship god: but, by reason nature is composed of parts; so is the infinite worship to god: and, as several parts are dividing and uniting after several kinds, sorts, manners and ways; so is their worship to god: but, the several manners and ways of worship, make not the worship to god less: for certainly, all creatures worship and adore god; as we may perceive by the holy scripture, where it says, _let the heavens, earth, and all that therein is, praise god._ but 'tis probable, that some of the parts being creatures of nature, may have a fuller notion of god than others; which may cause some creatures to be more pious and devout, than others: but, the irregularity of nature, is the cause of sin. chap. vi. whether god's decrees are limited. in my opinion, though god is inalterable, yet no ways bounded or limited: for, though god's decrees are fixt, yet, they are not bound: but, as god hath an infinite knowledg, he hath also an infinite fore-knowledg; and so, fore-knows nature's actions, and what he will please to decree nature to do: so that, god knows what nature can act, and what she will act; as also, what he will decree: and this is the cause, that some of the creature's or parts of nature, especially man, do believe _predestination_. but surely, god hath an omnipotent divine power, which is no ways limited: for god, being above the nature of nature, cannot have the actions of nature, because god cannot make himself no god; neither can he make himself more than what he is, he being the all-powerful, omnipotent, infinite, and everlasting being. chap. vii. of god's decrees concerning the particular parts of nature. though nature's parts have free-will, of self-motion; yet, they have not free-will to oppose _god's decrees_: for, if some parts cannot oppose other parts, being over-power'd, it is probable, that the parts of nature cannot oppose the all-powerful decrees of _god_. but, if it please the all-powerful _god_ to permit the parts of nature to act as they please, according to their own natural will; and, upon condition, if they act so, they shall have such rewards as nature may be capable to receive; or such punishments as nature is capable of; then the omnipotent _god_ doth not predestinate those rewards, or punishments, any otherwise than the parts of nature do cause by their own actions. thus all corporeal actions, belong to corporeal parts; but, the rewards and punishments, to _god_ alone: but, what those punishments and blessings are, no particular creature is capable to know: for, though a particular creature knows there is a _god_; yet, not what _god_ is: so, although particular creatures know there are rewards and punishments; yet, not what those rewards and punishments are. but mistake me not; for i mean the general rewards and punishments to all creatures: but 'tis probable, that _god_ might decree nature, and her parts, to make other sorts of worlds, besides this world; of which worlds, this may be as ignorant, as a particular human creature is of _god_. and therefore, it is not probable (since we cannot possibly know all the parts of nature, of which we are parts) that we should know the decrees of _god_, or the manners and ways of worship, amongst all kinds and sorts of creatures. chap. viii. of the ten commandments. in my opinion, the notions man hath of _god's commands_ concerning their behaviour and actions to himself, and their fellow-creatures, is the very same that moses writ, and presented to all those of whom he was head and governour. but, mistake me not, i mean only the _ten commandments_; which commandments are a sufficient rule for all human creatures: and certainly, _god_ had decreed, that moses should be a wise man, and should publish these wise commands. but, the interpretation of the law must be such, as not to make it no such law: but, by reason nature is as much irregular, as regular, human notions are also irregular, as much as regular; which causes great variety of religions: and their actions being also irregular, is the cause that the practise of human creatures is irregular; and that occasions irregular devotions, and is the cause of sin. chap. ix. of several religions. concerning _the several religions_, and several opinions in religions, which are like several kinds and sorts; the question is, _whether all mankind could be perswaded to be of one religion, or opinion?_ the opinion of the minor part of my thoughts, was, that all men might be perswaded. and, the opinion of the major part of my thoughts, was, that nature, being divisible and compoundable, and having free-will, as well as self-motion; and being irregular, as well as regular; as also, variable, taking delight in variety; it was impossible for all mankind to be of one _religion_, or _opinion_. the opinion of the minor part of my thoughts, ,$ was, that the grace of god could perswade all men to one opinion. the major part of my thoughts was of opinion, that god might decree or command nature: but, to alter nature's nature, could not be done, unless god, by his decree, would annihilate this nature, and create another nature, and such a nature as was not like this nature: for, it is the nature of this material nature, to be alterable; as also, to be irregular, as well as regular; and, being regular, and irregular, was a fit and proper subject for god's justice, and mercies; punishments, and rewards. chap. x. of rules and prescriptions. as saint paul said, _we could not know sin, but by the law_; so, we could not know what punishment we could or should suffer, but by the law; not only moral, but divine law. but, some may ask, _what is law?_ i answer: law is, limited prescriptions and rules. but, some may ask, _whether all creatures in nature, have prescriptions and rules?_ i answer: that, for any thing man can know to the contrary, all creatures may have some natural rules: but, every creature may chuse whether they will follow those rules; i mean, such rules as they are capable to follow or practise: for, several kinds and sorts of creatures, cannot possibly follow one and the same prescription and rule. wherefore, divine prescriptions and rules, must be, according to the sorts and kinds of creatures; and yet, all creatures may have a notion, and so an adoration of god, by reason all the parts in nature, have notions of god. but, concerning particular worships, those must be prescriptions and rules; or else, they are according to every particular creature's conception or choice. chap. xi. sins and punishments, are material. as all sins are material, so are punishments: for, material creatures, cannot have immaterial sins; nor can material creatures be capable of immaterial punishments; which may be proved out of the sacred scripture: for, all the punishments that are declared to be in hell, are material tortures: nay, hell it self is described to be material; and not only hell, but heaven, is described to be material. but, whether angels, and devils, are material, that is not declared: for, though they are named spirits, yet we know not whether those spirits be immaterial. but, considering that hell and heaven is described to be material, it is probable, spirits are also material: nay, our blessed saviour christ, who is in heaven, with god the father, hath a material body; and in that body will come attended by all the hosts of heaven, to judg the quick and the dead; which quick and dead, are the material parts of nature: which could not be actually judged and punished, but by a material body, as christ hath. but, pray mistake me not; i say, they could not be actually judged and punished; that is, not according to nature, as material actions: for, i do not mean here, divine and immaterial decrees. but christ, being partly divine, and partly natural; may be both a divine and natural judg. chap. xii. of human conscience. the human notions of god, man calls _conscience_: but, by reason that nature is full of varieties, as having self-moving parts; human creatures have different notions, and so different consciences, which cause different opinions and devotions: but, nature being as much compoundable as dividable, it causes unity of some, as also, divisions of other opinions, which is the cause of several religions: which religions, are several communities and divisions. but, as for conscience, and holy notions, they being natural, cannot be altered by force, without a free-will: so that the several societies, or communicants, commit an error, if not a sin, to endeavour to compel their brethren to any particular opinion: and, to prove it is an error, or sin, the more earnest the _compellers_ are, the more do the _compelled_ resist; which hath been the cause of many martyrs. but surely, all christians should follow the example of christ, who was like a meek lamb, not a raging lyon: neither did christ command his apostles to persecute; but, to suffer persecution patiently. wherefore, _liberty of conscience_ may be allowed, conditionally, it be no ways a prejudice to the peaceable government of the state or kingdom. the second part. chap. i. whether it is possible there could be worlds consisting only of the rational parts, and others only of the sensitive parts. the parts of my mind did argue amongst themselves, _whether there might not be several kinds and sorts of worlds in infinite nature?_ and they all agreed, that probably there might be several kinds and sorts of worlds. but afterwards, the opinion of the major parts of my mind, was, that it is not possible: for, though the rational parts of nature move free, without burdens of the inanimate parts; yet, being parts of the same body, (viz. of the body of nature) they could not be divided from the sensitive and inanimate parts; nor the sensitive and inanimate parts, from the rational. the opinion of the minor parts of my mind, was, that a composed world, of either degree, was not a division from the infinite body of nature, though they might divide so much, as to compose a world meerly of their own degree. the major's opinion was, that it was impossible; because the three degrees, rational, sensitive, and inanimate, were naturally joyned as one body, or part. the minor's opinion was, that a world might be naturally composed only of rational parts, as a human mind is only composed of rational parts; or, as the rational parts of a human creature, could compose themselves into several forms, _viz._ into several sorts and kinds of worlds, without the assistance of the sensitive or the inanimate parts: for, they fancy worlds which are composed in human minds, without the assistance of the sensitive. the major part agreed, that the rational corporeal actions, were free; and all their architectors were of their own degree: but yet, they were so joyned in every part and particle, to the sensitive and inanimate, as they could not separate from these two degrees: for, though they could divide and unite from, and to particulars, as either of their own degrees, or the other degrees; yet, the three degrees being but as one united body, they could not so divide, as not to be joyned to the other degrees: for, it was impossible for a body to divide it self from it self. after this argument, there followed another; _that, if it were possible there could be a world composed only of the rational parts, without the other two degrees; whether that world would be a happy world?_ the major part's opinion was, that, were it possible there could be such unnatural divisions, those divide parts would be very unhappy: for, the rational parts would be much unsatisfied without the sensitive; and the sensitive very dull without the rational: also, the sensitive architectors would be very irregular, wanting their designing parts, which are the rational parts. upon which argument, all the parts of my mind agreed in this opinion, that the sensitive was so sociable to the rational, and the rational so assisting to the sensitive, and the inanimate parts so necessary to the sensitive architectors, that they would not divide from each other, if they could. chap. ii. of irregular and regular worlds. some parts of my mind were of opinion, _that there might be a world composed only of irregularities; and another, only of regularities: and some, that were partly composed of the one, and the other._ the minor part's opinion was, that all worlds were composed partly of the one, and partly of the other; because all nature's actions were poysed with opposites, or contraries: wherefore, there could not be a world only of irregularities, and another of regularities. the major part's opinion, was, that nature's actions were as much poysed by the contrary actions of two worlds, as by the contrary actions of the parts of one world, or one creature: as for example, the peace and trouble, health and sickness, pain and ease, and the like, of one human creature; and so of the contrary natures of several kinds and sorts of creatures of one and the same world. after which discourse, they generally agreed, there might be regular and irregular worlds; the one sort to be such happy worlds, as that they might be named blessed worlds; the other so miserable worlds, as might be named cursed worlds. chap. iii. whether there be egress and regress between the parts of several worlds. there arose a third argument, _viz. whether it was possible for some of the creatures of several worlds, to remove, so as to remove out of one world, into another?_ the major part's opinion was, that it was possible for some creatures: for, if some particular creatures could move all over the world, of which they were a part, they might divide from the parts of the world they were of, and joyn with the parts of another world. the minor part's opinion was, that they might travel all over the world they were part of, but not to joyn with the parts of another world, to which they belong not. the major's opinion was, that every part and particle, belonged to the infinite body of nature, and therefore not any part could account it self not of the infinite body; and being so, then every part of nature may joyn, and divide from and to particular parts, as they please, if there were not obstructions and hindrances, and some parts did not obstruct other parts: wherefore, if there were not obstructions, there might be egress and regress amongst the particular parts of several worlds. the minor's opinion was, that if it could be according to the major's opinion, it would cause an infinite confusion in infinite nature: for, every creature of every world, was composed according to the nature and compositions of the world they were of: wherefore, the products of one kind or sort of worlds, would not be sutable, agreeable, and regular, to the productions of another kind. the major part's opinion was, that it was impossible, since nature is one united body, without _vacuum_, but that the parts of all worlds must have egress and regress. chap. iv. whether the parts of one and the same society, could, after their dissolution, meet and unite. the fifth argument, was partly of the same subject, _viz. whether the particular parts of a creature, (such as a human creature is) could travel out of one world into another, after the dissolution of his human life?_ the major part's opinion was, that they could. the minor's opinion was, they could not; because the particular parts so divided and joyned to and from other particular parts and societies, as it was impossible, if they would, so to agree, as to divide from those parts and societies they are joyned to, and from those they must joyn with, to meet in another world, and joyn as they would, in the same society they were of, when the whole society is dissolved. neither can parts divide and joyn, as they would: for, though self-moving parts have a free-will to move; yet, being subject to obstructions, they must move as they can: for, no particular part hath an absolute power. wherefore, the dispersed parts of a dissolved society, cannot meet and joyn as they would. besides, every part is as much affected to one sort, kind, or particular, they are parts of, as to another. besides, the knowledg of every part alters, according as their actions alter: so that the parts of one and the same society, after division, have no more knowledg of that society. chap. v. whether, if a creature being dissolved, and could unite again, would be the same. the sixth argument was, _that, put the case it were possible all the several parts belonging to one and the same society; as for example, to one human creature, after his human life was dissolved, and his parts dispersed, and afterwards, all those parts meeting and uniting; whether that human creature would be the same?_ the minor part's opinion was, that it could not be the same society: for, every creature was according to the nature of their kind or sort; and so according to the form and magnitude of one of their kind or sort. the major part's opinion was, that though the nature of every particular creature had such forms, shapes, and properties, as was natural to that sort of creatures they were of; yet, the magnitude of particular creatures of one and the same sort, might be very different. the minor part's opinion was, that if all the parts of one society, as for example, a man, from the first time of his production, to the time of his dissolution, should, after division, come to meet and unite; that man, or any other creature, would be a monstrous creature, as having more parts than was agreeable to the nature of his kind. the major part's opinion was, that though the society, viz. the man, would be a society of greater magnitude; yet, not any ways different from the nature of his kind. chap. vi. of the resurrection of human kind. the seventh argument, was, _whether all the particular parts of every human creature, at the time of the resurrection, be, to meet and joyn, as being of one and the same society?_ the minor part's opinion was, they shall not: for, if all those parts that had been of the same body and mind of one man, from his first production, to the last of his dissolution; or, from his birth, to the time of his death, (supposing him to have liv'd long) should meet and joyn, as one society, that is, as one man; that man, at the time of his resurrection, would be a gyant; and if so, then old men would be gyants; and young children, dwarfs. the major part's opinion was, that, if it was not so, then every particular human society would be imperfect at the time of their resurrection: for, if they should only rise with some of their parts, as (for example) when they were in the strength of their age, then all those parts that had been either before, or after that time, would be unjustly dealt with, especially if man be the best product in nature. besides, if a dead child did rise a man, as at his most perfect age, it could not be said, he rises according to a natural man, having more parts than by nature he ever had; and an old man, fewer parts than naturally he hath had: so, what by adding and diminishing the parts of particular men, it would not cause only injustice; but, not any particular human creature, would be the same he was. chap. vii. of the dissolution of a world. the eighth argument was, _that when all human creatures that were dissolved, should rise, whether the world they were of, should not be dissolved?_ all the parts of my mind agreed, that when all the human creatures that had been dissolved, should rise, the whole world, besides themselves, must also dissolve, by reason they were parts of the world: for, when all those numerous dissolved and dispersed parts, did meet and joyn, the world wanting those parts, could not subsist: for, the frame, form, and uniformity of the world, consisted of parts; and those parts that have been of the human kind, are, at several times, of other kinds and sorts of creatures, as other sorts and kinds are of human kind; and all the sorts and kinds, are parts of the world: so that the world cannot subsist, if any kind or sort of creatures, that had been from the first time of the creation, should be united; i mean, into one and the same sort or kind of creatures; as it would be, if all those that are quick, and those that have been _dissolved_, (that is, have been dead) should be alive at one time. chap. viii. of a new heaven, and a new earth. the ninth argument was, _that if a world could be dissolved, and that the human creatures should rise, and reunite; what world should they reside in?_ all the parts of my thoughts generally agreed, that the omnipotent god would command the parts of his servant nature, to compose other worlds for them, into which worlds they should be separated; the good should go into a blessed world; the bad, into a cursed world: and the sacred scripture declares, that there shall be a _new heaven_, and a _new earth_; which, in their opinion, was a heaven and a hell, for the blessed and cursed human kind of this world. chap. ix. whether there shall be a material heaven and hell. the tenth argument was, _whether the heaven and hell that are to be produced for the blessed and cursed, shall be material?_ the minor part's opinion was, that they shall not be material. the major parts were of opinion, they shall be material, by reason all those creatures that did rise, were material; and being material, could not be sensible either of immaterial blessings, or punishments: neither could an immaterial world, be a fit or proper residence for material bodies, were those bodies of the purest substance. but, whether this material heaven and hell, shall be like other material worlds, the parts of my mind could not agree, and so not give their judgment. but, in this they all agreed, that the material heaven and hell, shall not have any other animal creatures, than those that were of human kind, and those not produced, but raised from death. but when they came to argue, whether there might be elements, minerals, and vegetables, they could not agree; but some did argue, and offer to make proof, that there might be mynes of gold, and rocks of diamonds, rubies, and the like; all which, were minerals. also, some were of opinion, there were elements: for, darkness and light, are elemental effects: and, if hell was a world of darkness; and heaven, a world of light; it was probable there were elements. chap. x. concerning the ioys or torments of the blessed and cursed, after they are in heaven, or hell. as for the _ioys of heaven_, and the _torments of hell_, all the parts of my mind agreed, they could not conceive any more probably, than those they had formerly conceived: which former conceptions they had occasioned the sensitive parts to declare; and having been formerly divulged in the book of my _orations_, their opinion was, _that it would be a superfluous work to cause them to be repeated in this book._ but, the ground or foundation of those conceptions, is, that god may decree, _that both the sensitive and rational parts of those that are restored to life, should move in variety of perceptions, or conceptions, without variety of objects: and, that those creatures_ (viz. _human creatures) that are raised from death to life, should subsist without any forrein matter, but should be always the same in body and mind, without any traffick, egress, or regress of forrein parts_. and the proof, that the sensitive and rational parts of human creatures, may make perceptions, or rather conceptions, without forrein objects, is, _that many men in this world have had conceptions, both amongst the rational and sensitive, which man names visions, or imaginations; whereof some have been pleasing and delightful; others, displeasing, and dreadful_. the third part. the preamble. the parts of my mind, after some time of respite from _philosophical arguments_, delighting in such harmless pastimes; did begin to argue about a _regular_ and _irregular world_; having formerly agreed, there might be such worlds in nature; and that the regular worlds, were happy worlds; the irregular, miserable worlds. but, there was some division amongst the parts of my mind, concerning the choice of their arguments; as, whether to argue, first, of the particular parts of the regular, or of the irregular world. but, at last, they agreed to argue, first, of the regular world. but, pray mistake not these arguments; for they are not arguments of such worlds as are for the reception of the blessed and cursed humans, after their resurrections: but, such as these worlds we are of, only freely regular, or irregular. also, though i treat but only of one regular world, and one irregular world; yet, my opinion is, there may be a great many irregular worlds, and a great many regular worlds, of several kinds and sorts: but, these i shall treat of, are such as are somewhat like this world we are of. chap. i. of the happy and miserable worlds. the first argument was, _whether there might not be such worlds in nature, as were in no kind or sort like this world we are of?_ they all agreed, that it was probable there was. the second argument was, _whether it was probable that the happy and miserable worlds were, in any kind, like this we are of._ they all agreed, it was probable that this world was somewhat like both one, and the other; and so, both those were somewhat like this: for, as the _happy world_ was no ways irregular; and the _miserable world_ no ways regular: so this world we are of, was partly irregular, and partly regular; and so it was a _purgatory world_. chap. ii. whether there be such kinds and sorts of creatures in the happy and blessed world, as in this world. the third argument was, _whether it was probable, the happy and miserable worlds, had animal, vegetable, mineral, and elemental kinds?_ they agreed, it was probable there were such kinds: but yet, those kinds, and particular sorts of those kinds, might be different from those of this world. the fourth argument was, _whether there was human sorts of creatures in those worlds._ they all agreed, there was. chap. iii. of the births and deaths of the heavenly world. the fifth argument was, _whether there could be births and deaths in the happy world?_ some parts of my mind were of opinion, that if there was so regular a world, as that there were no irregularities in it, there could not be _deaths_: for, death was a dissolution; and if there was no death, there could be no birth, or production: for, if any particular sort of creatures should encrease, and never dissolve, they would become infinite; which every particular kind or sort of creatures, may be, for time, and be eternal; as also, be infinite for number; because, as some dissolve, others are produced. and so, if particular sorts or kinds of creatures, be eternal; the particular production and dissolution, is infinite: but, if any sort, or kind, should encrease, without decrease, not any particular world could contain them: as for example, if all the human creatures that have been produced from our father _adam_, (which hath not been above six thousand years) should be alive, this world could not contain them; much less, if this world, and the human sorts of creatures, had been of a longer date. and besides, if there should be a greater encrease, by the number of human creatures: in truth, the numerous encrease, would have caused mankind, in the space of six thousand years, to be almost infinite. but, the minor parts of my mind was of opinion, that then the _happy world_ could not be so perfectly regular, if there was death. the major part's opinion was, that some sorts of deaths were as regular, as the most regular births: for, though diseases were caused by irregular actions, yet, death was not: for, as it is not irregular, to be old; so it is not irregular, to dye. but, this argument broke off for that time. chap. iv. whether those creatures could be named blessed, that are subject to dye. the sixth argument was, _whether those creatures could be called_ blessed, _or_ _happy, that are subject to dye?_ the major parts of my mind was of opinion, that, if death was as free from irregularities, as birth; then it was as happy to dye, as to be born. the minor parts were of opinion, that though dissolution might be as regular as composition; yet, it was an unhappiness for every particular society, to be dissolved. the major part's opinion, was, that though the particular societies were dissolved; yet, by reason the general society of the kind, did continue, it was not so much unhappiness; considering, particular parts, or creatures, did make the general society; and not, the general, the particular societies: so that, the parts of the particulars, remained in the general, as in the kind of sort. the minor parts were of opinion, that the particulars of the same kind or sort, (as _mankind_) did contribute but little to the general: for, other sorts of creatures did contribute more than they; only mankind was the occasion, or contributor of the first foundation, but no more: but, the other parts or creatures of the world, did contribute more to their kind, than the creatures of the same kind did: and, as other kinds, and sorts, did contribute to mankind; so mankind, to other kinds or sorts: for, all kinds and sorts, did contribute to the subsistance and assistance of each other. the major part's opinion was, that if all the parts of a world did assist each other, then death could be no unhappiness, especially in the regular world; by reason all creatures in that world, of what kind or sort soever, was perfect and regular: so that, though the particular human creatures did dissolve from being humans; yet, their parts could not be unhappy, when they did unite into other kinds, and sorts, or particular societies: for, those other sorts and kinds of creatures, might be as happy as human creatures. chap. v. of the productions of the creatures of the regular world. the seventh argument was, of productions of the creatures of the regular world, _viz. whether their productions were frequent, or not?_ the minor part's opinion, was, that they were frequent. the major part's opinion, was, that they were not _frequent_, or _numerous_, by reason the world was regular, and so all the productions or generations, were regular; but could not exceed such a number as was, regularly, sufficient for a world, of such a dimension as the regular world; and according to the dimensions, must the society or creatures be, let them be large or little. chap. vi. whether the creatures in the blessed world, do feed, and evacuate. the eighth argument, was, _whether the blessed humans, in the happy world, did eat, and evacuate?_ they agreed, that, if they did feed, they must evacuate. then there was a dispute, _whether those happy creatures did eat?_ they all agreed, that, if they were natural human creatures, they had natural appetites: but, by reason there were no irregularities in this world, the human creatures had not any irregular appetites, nor irregular digestions; irregular passions, or irregular pastimes. then there arose a dispute, _whether those blessed creatures did sleep?_ some were of opinion, they did not sleep: for, sleep was occasioned through a weariness of the sensitive organs, making perceptions of forrein objects; and all weariness, or tiredness, was irregular. the major part of my mind, was of a contrary opinion; because the delight of nature, is in variety: and therefore, regular sleeps were delightful. the minor was of opinion, that sleep was like death, and therefore it could not be happy. but, at last, they did conclude, that sleep, being a soft and quiet repose, (as being retired from all actions concerning forrein parts, and had only actions at home, and of private affairs; and that all the parts of body and mind, were then most sociable amongst themselves) that the blessed humans did sleep. chap. vii. of the animals, and of the food of the humans of the happy world. the ninth argument, was, _whether there were all sorts of animals in the regular world?_ all the parts of my mind agreed, that if there were such creatures as human creatures, it was probable there was other animal creatures: but, by reason there was no irregularities, there could not be cruel or ravenous animal creatures: for, a lyon, leopard, or wolf, in that world, would be as harmless as a sheep in this; and all kites, hawks, and the like ravenous birds, would be as harmless as those birds that only feed on the berries, and fruit of the earth. chap. viii. whether it is not irregular, for one creature to feed on another. the tenth argument was, _whether it was not irregular, for one creature to feed on another?_ some were of opinion, that it was natural for one creature to subsist by another, and to assist each other; but not cruelly to destroy each other. upon this argument, the parts of my mind divided into a minor and a major part. the minor part's opinion, was, that, since all the creatures in nature, had life; then, all creatures that did feed, did destroy each other's life. the major part's opinion, was, that they might be assisted by the lives of other creatures, and not destroy their lives: for, life could not be destroyed, though lives might be occasionally alter'd: but, some creatures may assist other creatures, without destruction or dissolution of their society: as for example, the fruits and leaves of vegetables, are but the humorous parts of vegetables, because they are divisible, and can encrease and decrease, without any dissolution of their society; that is, without the dissolution of the plant. also, milk of animals, is a superfluous humor of animals: and, to prove it to be a superfluous humor, i alledg, that much of it oppresses an animal. the same i say of the fruits and leaves of many sorts of vegetable creatures. besides, it is natural for such sorts of creatures to have their fruits and leaves to divide from the stock. the minor part's opinion, was, that the milk of animals, and the fruits of vegetables, and the herbs of the earth, had as much life as their producers. the major part's opinion, was, that though they had as much life as their producers; yet, it was natural for such off-springs to change and alter their lives, by being united to other sorts of creatures: as for example, an animal eats fruit and herbs; and those fruits and herbs convert themselves into the nature of those animals that feed of them. the same is of milk, eggs, and the like; out of which, a condition of life is endeavoured for: and, for proof, such sorts of creatures account an animal life the best; and therefore, all such superfluous parts of creatures, endeavour to unite into an animal society; as we may perceive, that fruits and herbs, are apt to turn into worms, and flies; and some parts of milk, as cheese, will turn into maggots; so that when animals feed of such meats, they occasion those parts they feed on, to a more easie transformation; and not only such creatures, but humans also, desire a better change: for, what human would not be a glorious sun, or starr? after which discourse, all the parts of my mind agreed unanimously, that animals, and so human creatures, might feed on such sorts of food, as aforesaid; but not on such food as is an united society: for, the root and foundation of any kind and sort of creature, ought not to be destroyed. chap. ix. of the continuance of life in the regular world. the opinion of the parts of my mind, was, that, it was probable, that all societies in the regular world, (that is, all such parts of nature as are united into particular creatures) are of long life, by reason there are no irregularities to destroy them, before their natural time. but then a dispute was raised amongst the parts of my mind, concerning the natural time, that is, the proper time of the lives of those creatures: for, all creatures were not of the same time of production; nor, after their production, of the same time of continuance. but the parts of my mind concluded, that though they could not judg by observation of any creature, no, not of their own sort; yet, they did believe they could judg better of human creatures, as being, at that time, of a human society, than of any other: but, by reason they were of this world (that is, irregular in part) they did believe they might very much err in their judgment, concerning the continuance of human lives, in the _happy world_. but, after much debate, they concluded, that a human creature, in the regular world, might last as long as the productions did not oppress or burden that world, (for that would be irregular) but how long a time that might be, they could not possibly conceive or imagine. chap. ix. of the excellency and happiness of the creatures of the regular world. the parts of my mind could not possibly, being parts of a purgatory world, conceive the happy condition of all creatures in the regular world; but only, conceiving there was no irregularities, they did also conceive, that all creatures there, must be in perfection; and that the elemental creatures were purer, without drossie mixtures; so that their earth must needs be so fruitful, that it produces all sorts of excellent vegetables, without the help of art; and their minerals as pure, as all sorts of stone that are transparent, and as hard as diamonds; the gold and silver, more pure than that which is refined in our world. the truth is, that, in their opinions, the meanest sorts of metal in the regular world, were more pure than the richest sort in this world: so that then, their richest metal must be as far beyond ours, as our gold is beyond our iron, or lead. as for the elemental waters in the regular world, they must be extraordinary smooth, clear, flowing, fresh, and sweet; and the elemental air only, a most pure, clear, and glorious light; so that there could be no need of a sun: and, by reason all the air was a light, there could be no darkness; and so, no need of a moon, or starrs. the elemental fire, although it was hot, yet it was not burning. also, there could neither be scorching heats, nor freezing colds, storms, nor tempest: for, all excess is irregular. neither could there be clouds, because no vapours. but, not to be tedious; it was my mind's opinion, that all the parts of the happy world, being regular, they could not obstruct each other's designs or actions; which might be a cause, that both the sensitive and rational parts may not only make their societies more curious, and their perceptions more perfect; but their perceptions more subtile: for, all the actions of that world being regular, must needs be exact and perfect; in so much, that every creature is a perfect object to each other; and so every creature must have, in some sort, a perfect knowledg of each other. chap. xi. of human creatures in the regular world. the opinion of my mind, was, that the _happy world_, having no irregularities, all creatures must needs be excellent, and most perfect, according to their kind and sort; amongst which, are human creatures, whose kinds, or sorts, being of the best, must be more excellent than the rest, being exactly formed, and beautifully produced: there being, also, no irregularities, human creatures cannot be subject to pains, sickness, aversions, or the like; or, to trepidations, or troubles; neither can their appetites, or passions, be irregular: wherefore, their understanding is more clear, their judgments more poysed: and by reason their food is pure, it must be delicious, as being most tastable: also, it must be wholsome, and nourishing; which occasions the parts of body and mind, to be more lively and pleasant. chap. xii. of the happiness of human creatures in the material world. the happiness that human creatures have in the _regular world_, is, that they are free from any kind or sort of disturbance, by reason there are no irregular actions; and so, no pride, ambition, faction, malice, envy, suspition, jealousie, spight, anger, covetousness, hatred, or the like; all which, are irregular actions among the rational parts: which occasions treachery, slander, false accusations, quarrels, divisions, warr, and destruction; which proceeds from the irregularities of the sensitive parts, occasioned by the rational, by reason the sense executes the mind's designs: but, there are no plots or intrigues, neither in their state, nor upon their stage; because, though they may act the parts of harmless pleasures; yet, not of deceitful designs: for, all human creatures, live in the regular world, so united, that all the particular human societies, (which are particular human creatures) live as if they were but one soul, and body; that is, as if they were but one part, or particular creature. as for their pleasures, and pleasant pastimes; in my opinion, they are such, as not any creature can express, unless they were of that world, or heaven: for, all kinds and sorts of creatures, and all their properties or associations, in this world we are of, are mixt; as, partly irregular; and partly, regular; and so it is but a _purgatory-world_. but surely, all human creatures of that world, are so pleasant and delightful to each other, as to cause a general happiness. the fourth part. chap. i. of the irregular world. after the arguments and opinions amongst the parts of my mind, concerning a regular world; their discourse was, of an _irregular world_: upon which they all agreed, that if there was a world that was not in any kind or sort, irregular; there must be a world that was not in any kind or sort, regular. but, to conceive those irregularities that are in the irregular world, is impossible; much less, to express them: for, it is more difficult to express irregularities, than regularities: and what human creature of this world, can express a particular confusion, much less a world of confusions? which i will, however, endeavour to declare, according to the philosophical opinions of the parts of my mind. chap. ii. of the productions and dissolutions of the creatures of the irregular world. according to the actions of nature, all creatures are produced by the associations of parts, into particular societies, which we name, _particular creatures_: but, the productions of the parts of the irregular world, are so irregular, that all creatures of that world are monstrous: neither can there be any orderly or distinct kinds and sorts; by reason that order and distinction, are regularities. wherefore, every particular creature of that world, hath a monstrous and different form; insomuch, that all the several particulars are affrighted at the perception of each other: yet, being parts of nature, they must associate; but, their associations are after a confused and perturbed manner, much after the manner of whirlwinds, or _aetherial globes_, wherein can neither be order, nor method: and, after the same manner as they are produced, so are they dissolved: so that, their _births_ and _deaths_ are _storms_, and their _lives_ are _torments_. chap. iii. of animals, and of humans, in the irregular world. it has been declared in the former chapter, _that there was not any perfect kind or sort of creatures in the irregular world_: for, though there be such creatures as we name animals; and amongst animals, humans: yet, they are so monstrous, that, being of confused shapes, or forms, none of those animal creatures can be said to be of such, or such a sort; because they are of different disordered forms. also, they cannot be said to be of a perfect animal-kind, or any kind; by reason of the variety of their forms: for, those that are of the nature of animals, especially of humans, are the most miserable and unhappy of all the creatures of that world; and the misery is, that death doth not help them: for, nature being a perpetual motion, there is no rest either alive or dead. in this world, it's true, some societies (_viz._ some creatures) may, sometimes, after their dissolutions, be united into more happy societies, or forms; which, in the irregular world, is impossible; because all forms, creatures, or societies, are miserable: so that, after dissolution, those dispersed parts cannot joyn to any other society, but what is as bad as the former; and so those creatures may dissolve out of one misery, and unite into another; but cannot be released from misery. page chap. iv. of objects, and perceptions. the opinions amongst the parts of my mind, were, that in the unhappy, or miserable world, all the actions of that world, being irregular, it must needs be, that all sorts of perceptions of that world, must also be irregular: not only because the objects are all irregular; but, the perceptive actions are so too; in such manner, that, what with the irregularity of the objects, and the irregularity of the perceptions, it must, of necessity, cause a horrid confusion, both of the sensitive and rational parts of all creatures of that world, in so much, that not only several creatures may appear as several devils to each other; but, one and the same creature may appear, both to the sense and reason, like several devils, at several times. chap. v. the description of the globe of the irregular world. the opinion of my mind was, that the globe of the irregular world was so irregular, that it was a horrid world: for though, being a world, it might be somewhat like other worlds, both globous, and a society of it self, by its own parts; and therefore might have that which we name _earth, air, water_, and _fire_: but, for sun-light, moon-light, starr-light, and the like, they are not parts of the world they appear to; and are worlds of themselves. but, there can be no such appearances in the irregular world: for, the irregularities do obstruct all such appearances; and the elemental parts (if i may name them so) are as irregular, and therefore as horrid as can be: so that it is probable, that the elemental fire is not a bright shining fire, but a dull, dead fire, which hath the effects of a strong corrosive fire, which never actually heats, but actually burns; so that some creatures may both freeze and burn at once. as for the earth of that world, it is probable that it is like corrupted sores, by reason all corruptions are produced by irregular motions; from which corruptions, may proceed such stinking foggs, as may be as far beyond the scent of brimstone, or any the worst of scents that are in this world, as _spanish_ or _roman_ perfumes, or essences, are beyond the scent of carion, or _assafoetida_; which causes all creatures (of airy substances) that breathe, to be so infected, as to appear like poysoned bodies. as for their elemental water, 'tis probable, that it is as black as ink, as bitter as gaul, as sharp as _aquafortis_, and as salt as brine, mixt irregularly together, by reason the waters there, must needs be very troubled waters. as for the elemental air, i shall declare the opinion of my rational parts, in the following chapter. chap. vi. of the elemental air, and light of the irregular world. 'tis probable, that the elemental air of the irregular world, is neither perfectly dark, nor perfectly light; for, either would be, in some part or kind, a perfection or regularity: but, being irregular, it must be a perturbed air; and, being perturbed, it is probable it produces several colours. but, mistake me not, i do not mean such colours as are made by perturbed light; but, such as are made by perturbed air: and, through the excess of irregularities, may be horrid colours; and, by reason of the _aetherial_ whirling motions, which are circular motions, the air may be of the colour of blood, a very horrid colour to some sorts of creatures: but 'tis probable, this bloody colour is not of a pure bloody colour, but of a corrupted bloody colour: and so the light of the irregular world, may, probably, be of a corrupt bloody colour: but, by the several irregular motions, it may be, at several times, of several corrupted bloody colours: and by reason there are no intermissions of _air_, there can be no intermissions of this _light_, in the irregular world. page chap. vii. of storms, and tempests, in the irregular world. as for _storms_, and _tempests_, and such irregular weather, 'tis probable there are continual winds and thunders, caused by the disturbance of the air; and those storms and tempests, being irregular, must needs be violent, and therefore very horrid. there may also be lightnings, but they are not such as those that are of a fiery colour; but such as are like the colour of fire and blood mixt together. as for rain, being occasioned by the vapours from the earth and waters, it is according as those vapours gather into clouds: but, when there is thunder, it must needs be violent. chap. viii. of the several seasons, or rather, of the several tempers in the irregular world. as for _several seasons_; there can be no constant season, because there is no regularity; but rather, a great irregularity, and violence, in all tempers and seasons; for there is no mean degree: and surely, their freezing is as sharp and corroding, as their corrosive-burnings; and it is probable, that the ice and snow in that world, are not as in this world, _viz._ the ice to be clear, and the snow white; because there the water is a troubled, and black water; so that the snow is black, and the ice also black; not clear, or like black polished marble; but 'tis probable, that the snow is like black wool; and the ice, like unpolished black stone; not for solidity, but for colour and roughness. chap. ix. the conclusion of the irregular and unhappy or cursed world. i have declared in my former chapter, concerning the _irregular world_, that there could not be any exact, or perfect kind or sort, because of the irregularities; not that there is not animal, vegetable, mineral, and elemental actions, and so not such creatures; but, by reason of the irregularities, they are strangely mixt and disordered, so that every particular seems to be of a different kind, or sort, being not any ways like each other; and yet, may have the nature of such kinds, and sorts, by reason they are natural creatures, although irregularly natural: but, those irregular natural creatures, cannot chuse, by the former descriptions, but be unhappy, having, in no sort or kind, pleasure, or ease: and for such creatures that have such perceptions as are any way like ours, they are most miserable: for, by the sense of touch, they freeze and burn: by the sense of tast, they have nauseousness, and hunger, being not satisfied: by the sense of scent, they are suffocated, by reason of irregular respiration: by the sense of hearing, and sense of seeing, they have all the horrid sounds and sights, that can be in nature: the rational parts are, as if they were all distracted or mad; and the sensitive parts tormented with pains, aversions, sicknesses, and deformities; all which is caused through the irregular actions of the parts of the irregular world; so that the actions of all sorts of creatures, are violent, and irregular. but, to conclude: as all the creatures of our world, were made for the benefit of human creatures; so, 'tis probable, all the creatures of the irregular world, were produced for the torment and confusion of human creatures in that world. the fifth part, being divided into fifteen sections. concerning restoring-beds, or wombs. i. at the latter end of my _philosophical conceptions_, the parts of my mind grew sad, to think of the dissolving of their society: for, the parts of my mind are so friendly, that although they do often dispute and argue for recreation and delight-sake; yet, they were never so irregular, as to divide into parties, like factious fellows, or unnatural brethren: which was the reason that they were sad, to think their kind society should dissolve, and that their parts should be dispersed and united to other societies, which might not be so friendly as they were. and, after many several thoughts, (which are several rational discourses: for, thoughts are the language of the mind) they fell into a discourse of _restoring beds_, or _wombs_, viz. _whether there might not be restoring beds, as well as producing beds, or breeding beds_. and, to argue the case, they agreed to divide into minor and major parts. ii. the major parts of my mind were of opinion, that there are beds, or wombs, of restoration, as well as beds of production: for, if nature's actions be poysed, there must be one, as well as the other. the minor part's opinion, was, that, as all creatures were produced, so all creatures were subject to dissolve: so that, the poyse of nature's productions, was nature's dissolutions, and not restorations. the major part's opinion, was, that there are restorations in nature: for, as some dissolved, others united in every kind and sort of creature, which was a restoration to the kinds and sorts of creatures. the minor part's opinion, was, that though every sort and kind of creatures, continued as the species of each sort and kind; yet, they did not continue by such restorations as they were arguing about: for though, when some creatures dye, others of the same sort or _species_, are born or bred; yet, they are produced, not restored: for, they conceived, that restoration was a reviving and re-uniting the parts of a dissolved society or creature; which restoration was not natural, at least, not usual. the major part's opinion, was, that restoration was natural, and usual: for, there were many things, or creatures, restored, in some sort, after they were dead. the minor part's opinion, was, that some creatures might be restored from some infirmities, or decays; but, they could not be restored after they were dissolved, and their parts dispersed. the major part's opinion, was, that if the roots, seeds, or springs of a society, or creature, were not dissolved and dispersed, those creatures might be restored to their former condition of life, if they were put, or received, into the restoring beds: as for example, a dry and withered rood of some vegetable, although the parts of that vegetable be, as we say, dead; yet, they are often restored by the means of some arts: also, dead sprigs will, by art, receive new life. the minor part's opinion, was, that if there were such actions of nature, as restoring actions; yet, they could not be the poysing actions, nor the artificial actions: for, not any dead creature can be restored by art. iii. some of the gravest parts of my mind, made this following discourse to some other parts of my mind. _dear associates_, there hath been many human societies, that have perswaded themselves, that there are such restoring actions of nature, which will restore, not only a dead, but a dispersed society; by reason they have observed, that vegetables seem to dye in one season, and to revive in another: as also, that the artificial actions of human creatures, can produce several artificial effects, that resemble those we name _natural_; which hath occasioned many human creatures to wast their time and estates, with fire and furnace, cruelly torturing the productions of nature, to make their experiments. also, they trouble themselves with poring and peeping through telescopes, microscopes, and the like toyish arts, which neither get profit, nor improve their understanding: for, all such arts prove rather ignorant follies, than wise considerations; art being so weak and defective, that it cannot so much assist, as it doth hinder nature: but, there is as much difference between art and nature, as between a statue and a man; and yet artists believe they can perfect what by nature is defective; so that they can rectifie nature's irregularities; and do excuse some of their artificial actions, saying, they only endeavour to hasten the actions of nature: as if nature were slower than art, because a carver can cut a figure or statue of a man, having all his materials ready at hand, before a child can be finished in the breeding-bed. but, art being the sporting and toyish actions of nature, we will not consider them at this time. but, _dear associates_, if there be any such things in nature, as _restoring-beds_, which most of our society are willing to believe; yet, those beds cannot possibly be _artificial_, but must be _natural beds_. nor can any one particular sort of bed, be a general restorer: for, every several sort or kind, requires a bed, or womb, that is proper for their sorts or kinds: so that, there must be as many sorts, at least, and kinds of beds, as there are kinds of creatures: but, what those wombs or beds are, we human creatures do not know; nor do we know whether there be any such things in this world: but, if there be such things in this world, we cannot conceive where they are. iv. after the former discourse, the parts of my mind were a little sad: but, after many and frequent disputes and arguments, they all agreed, that there are restoring beds, or wombs, in nature: but that to describe their conceptions of those restoring beds, was only to describe opinions, but not known truths: and their opinions were, that those beds are as lasting as gold, or quick-silver: for, though they may be occasioned to alter their exterior form; yet, not their interior or innate nature. but, mistake not my mind's opinion: for, their opinion is not, that those beds are gold, or quicksilver: for, their opinion was, that neither gold, or quicksilver, were restorers of life: but, if they were restorers, they could restore no other creatures, but only dead metals, by reason several creatures require several restoring beds proper to their sorts or kinds: so that a mineral kind or sort, could not restore an animal kind or sort; because there was no such thing in nature, as the elixir, or philosophers-stone, which the chymists believe to be some deity, that can restore all sorts and kinds. v. as it has formerly been declared, the parts of my mind were generally of opinion, that it was, at least, probable, there were such things in nature as _restoring-beds_, or _wombs_. the next opinion was, that these beds were of several kinds or sorts, viz. animal, vegetable, mineral, and elemental: so that every kind or sort, is a general restorer of the lives of their kind or sort. as for example, an animal _restoring-bed_, may restore any dead animal, to his former animal life, in case the animal roots or seeds, (which we name, the _vital parts_) were not divided and dispersed, but inclosed, or inurned, so that no other animal could come to feed on those roots and seeds of the dead animal body; and in case the body was so closely kept, though dead many years, if it was put into a _restoring-bed_, that animal creature would reunite to the former animal life and form. but then there arose this argument, _that if the bodies of the dead animals, did corrupt and dissolve of themselves, as most dead animal bodies do; whether, after their dissolution, they could be restored?_ the minor part's opinion was, that those dissolved bodies, being dissolved, or divided, and their parts out of their places, could not be restored. the major part's opinion, was, they might be restored; first, because, though the parts may be divided; yet, they were not annihilated. the next, that those divided parts were not so separated and dispersed, as to be united to other societies: wherefore, if all those dead animal parts were put into a _restoring-womb_, or _bed_; the bed would occasion those parts to place themselves into their proper order and form. vi. after the former discourse, some of the parts of my mind were sad, to think, that those that had been embowelled, were made incapable of ever being restored; and, that it was a greater cruelty to murder a dead man, and to rob him of his interior parts; than to murder a living man, and yet suffer his whole body to lye peaceably in the urn, or grave. but, the other parts endeavouring to comfort those sad parts, made this argument, viz. _whether it might not probably be, that the bones or carcase of a human creature, were the root of human life? and if so, then if all the parts were dissolved, and none were left undissolved, but the bare carcase; they might be restored to life._ the sad part's opinion, was, that it was impossible they could be restored, by reason the roots of human life, were those we name the _vital parts_; and those being divided from the carcase, and dispersed, and united unto other societies, could not meet and joyn into their former state of life, or society, so as to be the same man. the comforting parts were of opinion, it was not probable that the fleshy and spungy parts, being the branches of human life, could also be the roots. wherefore, in all probability, the bones were the roots; and the bones being the roots, if the bare carcase of a man should be put into a restoring bed, all the fleshy and spungy parts, both those that were the exterior, and those that were interior, would spring and encrease to their full maturity. the sad part's opinion, was, that if the bones were the roots; and that, from the roots, all the exterior and interior parts, belonging to a human creature, should spring, and so encrease to full maturity; yet, those branches would not be the same they were, viz. the same parts of the same man; and besides, those branches would rather be new productions, than restorations. the comforting part's opinion, was, that though the branches were new, the carcase, as the root, being the same, the man would be the same: for, though the spungy and fleshy parts, divide and unite from home, and to forrein parts; yet, the man is the same: and to prove that the bony parts are the roots of human life, doth it not happen, that if the flesh be cut from the bone, and the bone be left bare; yet, in time, the bone produces new flesh: but, if any bone be separated from the body, that bone cannot be restored; nor can a new bone spring forth, nor can the divided bone be joyned or knit to the body, as it was before: for, although a broken bone may be set; yet, a divided bone cannot be rejoyned: all which arguments, were a sufficient proof, that the bones were the roots of life. the sad part's argument, was, that it was well known, that if any of the vital parts of a human creature, as the liver, lungs, heart, kidneys, and the like, were decayed, pierced, or wounded, the human creature dyed, by reason those parts are incurable. the comforting parts were of opinion, that there were many less causes which did often occasion human death; yet, those causes were not the roots of life: nor were those parts the roots of life, although those parts which we name _vital_, were the chief branches of human life. but, at last, they all agreed in this opinion, that the _bones_, were the roots; the _marrow_, the sapp, and the _vitals_, the chief branches of life. also, they agreed, that when an human life was restored, the bones did first fill with some oylie juyces; and from the bones, and the sap or juyce of the bones, did all the parts belonging to a human creature, spring forth, and grow up to maturity: and certainly, _not to disturb_ the _bones of the dead_, was a holy and religious charge to human creatures. vii. after the pacifying the sad parts of my mind, their argument was, _that, supposing creatures could be restored; whether they should be restored as when they were first produced; or, as when they were at the perfection of their age; or, as when they were at old age?_ but, after many disputes, they all agreed, that those that should be restored, should be restored to that degree of age and strength, which is the most perfect: and, as all productions arrived towards perfection by degrees; so those that were restored, should return to perfection by degrees, if they were past the perfect time of their age: and those that were not arrived to their perfection, before they dyed, should arrive to it, however, as those that had it: so that, both _youth_ and _age_, shall meet in perfection: for, as the one encreases, as it were, forward; so the other return to their strength and perfection of their past age. viii. after the former opinions, the parts of my mind were somewhat puzled in their _arguments_ concerning the degrees of the restoring times; as, _whether restoration was done by a general act, or by degrees?_ the most doubting part's opinion, was, that it was not natural to restore, although it was natural to produce; and, that all natural productions, were by degrees: but, for restorations, (being not natural productions) they could not be done by degrees: and therefore the action of restoration, was but as one action, although of many parts. the believing parts of my mind were of opinion, that all nature's actions, being by degrees, all restorations were also by degrees. the doubting part's opinion was, that there were some actions that had no degrees: for, one action might signifie a thousand. the other part's opinion was, that a thousand actions, or degrees, were in the figure of one. the doubting parts were of opinion, that it was impossible. but, at last, they agreed, that the restoring actions were by degrees. ix. the parts of my mind were divided into minor and major parts, about the time or degrees of restoration of human creatures. the minor's opinion was, that the restoring actions of nature, were so much quicker than the producing actions, that a human creature might be restored in a months time; whereas the production of a human creature was in ten months: for, though a human creature may quicken at three months time; yet, it was not fully ripe for birth, before the time of ten months. the major part's opinion was, that restoration was according as the creature was dissolved: for, a man that was newly dead; or not so long dead, that his parts were not yet divided; that man might be restored to life in an hour's time, or less: but, if all the parts, excepting the bare carcase, were dissolved, there would require as long a time in restoring, as in producing. the minor's opinion, was, that the restoring-time, was no longer than the time of quickning. the major part's opinion, was, that though the exterior form or frame of a child, might be before the quickning; yet, it was not a perfect animal, until it was quick: and although it might be a perfect animal when it was quick; yet, not ripe, that is, not at the full perfection of a human creature. as it is with fruits: for, a green plumb is not like a ripe plumb; but, any green fruit, is like a dead fruit, in comparison of a ripe fruit. at last, the parts of my mind did agree, that if a human creature was dissolved, excepting the bare carcase; it would require ten months time ere it could perfectly be restored: for, the springing parts would require so long a time ere they could come to full maturity. x. the question being stated, _whether the restoring-bed, was a fleshy bed_; all the parts of my mind, after many disputes, agreed, that it could not be a fleshy bed, by reason the nature of flesh is so corruptible, dissolvable, and easie to be dissolved, that it could not possibly be of such a lasting nature, as is required for _restoring-beds_. but yet, they agreed, they were like flesh, for softness, or spunginess; as also, for colour. also, they agreed, that the animal _restoring-bed_, was of such a nature or property, that it could dilate and contract, as it had occasion; in so much, that it could contract to the compass of the smallest, or extend to the magnitude of the largest animal. also, they did agree, that it was somewhat like the stomack of a human creature, or of the like animal, that could open and shut the orifice; and that when an animal creature was put into the _restoring-bed_, it would immediately inclose the animal: and when it had caused a perfect restoration, the _restoring-bed_ would open it self, and deliver it to its own liberty. xi. another question amongst the parts of my mind concerning _restoring-beds_, or _wombs_, was: _that in case there were such restoring-beds in nature, as in all probability there were; where could those restoring-beds be?_ viz. _whether there were any in this world? if not in this world, in any other world?_ the minor parts were of opinion, there were none in this world; but, that there were some in other worlds. the major part's opinion, was, that there were such beds; but, that human creatures would not know them, though they could perceive them: nor, if they could perceive them, could they tell how to make use of them. at last they all agreed, that those _restoring-beds_ were in the center of the world: but, where the center is, no human creature, no, not the most subtile and _learned mathematicians, geometricians_, or _astrologers_, could, with their most laborious arts, and subtile observations, know; and therefore, unless by a special decree from god, no such restoration can be made. xii. the parts of my mind were very studious to conceive where the center of the world was: some of the parts of my mind was of opinion, that there were four centers, _viz._ a center in the earth, a center in the air, a center in the sea, and a center in the element of fire. upon which opinion, the parts of my mind divided into minor and major parts. the minor parts were of opinion, that there were centers in all the four elemental parts; and that the _restoring-beds_, were only of four kinds: but yet, there might be many several sorts of each particular kind; and that each particular kind, with all the several sorts, was produced in each particular elemental center. the major part was of opinion, that there might be infinite centers, if there were infinite worlds: also, there might be many centers in this world; for, every round globe hath a center. but, their opinion concerning the _restoring-beds_, was, that they were in the center of the globe of our whole world, and not of any of the parts of the world: for, the _air_ could have but an uncertain center; neither could the _water_ have a very solid center; and the _earth_ was too solid to have a center, consisting of the four kinds of elements: neither could the elemental _fire_ have such a center, as to breed such different kinds and sorts of _beds_, as the _restoring-beds_ are, because many of them are quite of a different nature from the nature of elemental fire: wherefore, it must be the center of the world, which must consist of all the elemental kinds. xiii. after the former _argument_, the parts of my mind were very studious in conceiving, where the center of the whole universe of this our world, might be: at last they all agreed, it was the _sea_, which is the watry element: for, the _sea_ is inclosed with the _airy, fiery_, and _earthy_ parts of the universe, and therefore must be the center. and, though the sea was the center of the world; yet, there was a center of the sea: so that, there was a center in a center; in which center, were the _restoring-beds_. xiv. after the former conceptions, the parts of my mind were very studious, to conceive where the center's center might be. but, they could not possibly conceive it, by reason they could not possibly imagine how large, and of what compass the sea may be of: for they did verily believe, that the utmost extension of the sea, is not, as yet, known to human-kind: for, that circle about which the ships of _cavendishe_, and _drake_, did swim, might be, in comparison to the whole body of the sea, but such a circle as a boy may occasion, with throwing a small stone, or such like thing, into a pond of water. xv. the last conception of my mind, concerning _restoring-beds_, was, that the parts of my mind did conceive, that the center of the whole universe, was the sea; and in the center of the sea, was a small island; and in the center of the island, was a creature, like (in the outward form) to a great and high rock: not that this rock was stone; but, it was of such a nature, (by the natural compositions of parts) that it was compounded of parts of all the principal kinds and sorts of the creatures of this world, viz. of _elemental, animal, mineral_, and _vegetable_ kinds: and, being of such a nature, did produce, out of it self, all kinds and sorts of _restoring-beds_; whereof, some sorts were so loose, that they only hung by strings, or nerves: others stuck close. some were produced at the top, or upper parts: others were produced out of the middle parts; and some were produced from the lower parts, or at the bottom. in short, the opinion of the parts of my mind, was, that this rocky creature was all covered with its own productions; which productions were of all kinds and sorts: not that they were numerous; but, various productions: also, that these various productions, were _restoring-beds_: for, the nature of this rocky creature, is as lasting as the sun, or other planets; which was the reason that those productions are not subject to decay, as other productions are: nor can they produce new creatures; but only restore former creatures; as, those that had been produced, and were partly dissolved. the conclusion. after the wisest parts of my mind had ended their _arguments_, there being some of the dullest, and the most unbelieving, or rather, strange parts of my mind, that had retired into the _glandula_ of my brain, which is a kind of a kernel; which they made use of, instead of a pulpit: out of which, they declared their opinions, thus: _dear associates_, we, that were not parties of your disputations, or argumentations, concerning _restoring-beds_; being retired into the _glandula_ of the brain, where we have been informed by the nerves, and sensitive spirits, of your wise opinions, and subtile arguments, considering that your conclusion was as improbable, if not as impossible, as the chymical _philosophers-stone_, or _elixir_; we desire you (being parts of one and the same society) not to trouble the whole society, in the search of that, which, if it was in nature, will never be found. but to prevent, that your painful studies, and witty arguments, be not buried in oblivion; we advise you, to perswade the sensitive parts of our society, to record them, so that they may be divulged to all the societies of our own kind or sort of creatures; as _chymists_ do, who, after they have wasted their times and estates, to gain the _philosophers-stone_, or _elixir_; write books to teach it to the sons of art: which is impossible, at least, very improbable, ever to be learn'd, there being no such art in nature: but, were it possible such an art was to be obtained; yet, when obtained, the artist would never divulge it in print. but, those great practitioners, finding, after much loss and pains, nothing but despair, write books of that art; which, instead of the _elixir_, did produce _despair_; which again, though produced by art, did produce, naturally, that vice, named _malice_; and _malice_, being a pregnant seed, sowed upon the fertile ground of their writings, produces so much mischief, that many men of good estates, have been undone, in following their rules in _chymistry_: and if your books should be as succesful as _chymistry_ hath been (i dare not say, among _fools_; but) amongst credulous men; your books will cause as much mischief as theirs have done; not by the ways of _fire_, but by the ways of _water_: for, your books send men to sea, a much cooler element than _fire_; but, more dangerous than _chymical fire_, unless _chymical fire_ be _hell-fire_. upon which discourse, the rest of my thoughts were very angry, and pull'd them out of their pulpit, the _glandula_; and not only so, but put them out of their society, believing they were a factious party, which, in time, might cause the society's dissolution. finis.