THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
* 
 
 
 
 
THE 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH A NUMBER OF HIS 
 
 HUMOROUS, MORAL, AND LITERARY 
 
 CHIEFLY IN THE MANNER OF THE SPECTATOR- 
 
 MIDDLETOWN: , 
 
 HUNTED AND PUBLISHED BY STARR & 
 
 1823. 
 

 
> 
 
 \ 
 FS/93 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Preface 
 
 .Life of Dr. Franklin, as written by himself 
 
 Continuation of bis Life, by Dr. Stuber 
 
 Extracts from his Will 
 
 On Early Marriages ... 153 
 
 On the Death of his brother, Mr. John Franklin . 155 
 
 To the late Dr. Mather of Boston 
 
 The Whistle, a true Story ; written to his Nephew 
 
 A petition of the Left Hand .... 
 
 The handsome and deformed Leg 161 
 
 Conversation of a Company of Ephemeras, with the So 
 liloquy of one advanced in age . . .164 
 Morals of Chess ...... 166 
 
 The Art of procuring pleasant dreams 
 
 Advice to a young Tradesman .... 
 
 Necessary Hints to those who would be rich . 1 78 
 
 The way to make Money plenty in every Man s pocket 1 79 
 An oeconomical Project . . . . .180 
 
 On modern Innovations in the English Language and 
 
 in Printing . ... 186 
 
 An Account of the highest Court of Judicature in Penn 
 sylvania, viz. The Court of the Press . 191 
 Paper: a Poem ...... 196 
 
 On the Art of Swimming 198 
 
 New Mode of Bathing . . . . 200 
 
 Observations on the generally prevailing Doctrines of 
 
 Life and Death - .... 202 
 Precautions to be taken by those who are about to un 
 dertake a Sea Voyage .... 204 
 On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry . . . 209 
 
 On the Slave Trade 214 
 
 Observations on War . . . . . 218 
 
 On the Impress of Seamen . . . 220 
 
 On the Criminal Laws, and the practice of Privateering 223 
 Remarks concerning the Savages of North America 231 
 
4 CONTENTS, 
 
 Page. 
 To Mr. Dubourg, concerning the dissentions between 
 
 England and America .... 23 8 
 
 A Comparison of the conduct of the ancient Jews, 
 and of the Antifederalists of the United States 
 of America ...... 239 
 
 The internal State of America : being a true Descrip 
 tion of the Interest and Policy of that vast Con 
 tinent ....... 244 
 
 Information to those who would remove to America 240 
 Final Speech of Dr. Franklin in the late Federal 
 
 Convention ...... 259 
 
 Sketch of an English School .... 262 
 
 Busy-Body, No. 1 269 
 
 No. II 272 
 
 No. III. ...... 274 
 
 No. IV 278 
 
 No. V 284 
 
 No. VI 292 
 
 Letter to Josiah Quincy 297 
 
 On Self Praise ....... 299 
 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 THE volume that is here presented to the Pul- 
 lie, consists of two parts : the Life of Dr. Franklin ; 
 and a Collection of Miscellaneous Essays, the work 
 of that author. 
 
 It is already known to many, that Dr. Franklin 
 amused himself, towards the close of his life, with writ 
 ing memoirs of his own history. These memoirs 
 were brought down to the year 1 757. Together with 
 some other manuscripts they were left behind him at 
 his death, and were considered as constituting a part 
 of his posthumous property. It is a little extraordi 
 nary that, under these circumstances, interesting as 
 they are, from the celebrity of the character of which 
 they treat, and from the critical situation of the present 
 times, they should so long have been withheld from 
 the public. A translation of them appeared in France 
 near two years ago, coming down to the year 1731. 
 There can be no sufficient reason, that what has been 
 submitted to the perusal of Europe, should not be 
 made accessible to those to whom Dr. Franklin s lan 
 guage is native. The first part of the history of his 
 life is translated from that publication. 
 
 The style of these memoirs is uncommonly pleasing. 
 The story is told with the most unreserved sincerity, 
 and without any false coloring or ornament. We see, 
 m every page, that the author examined his subject 
 with the eye of a master, and related no incidents, the 
 springs and origin of which he did not perfectly under 
 stand. It is this that gives such exquisite and uncom- 
 l * 
 
 . 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 mon perspicuity to the detail and delight in the review. 
 The translator has endeavored, as he went along, to 
 conceive the probable manner in which Dr. Franklin 
 expressed his ideas in his English manuscript, and he 
 hopes to be forgiven if this inquiry shall occasionally 
 have subjected him to the charge of a style in any res 
 pect bold or low ; to imitate the admirable simplicity 
 of the author, is no easy task. 
 
 The Essays, which are now, for the first time, 
 brought together from various resources, willbefound 
 to be more miscellaneous than any of Dr. Franklin s 
 that have formerly been collected, and will therefore 
 be more generally amusing. Dr. Franklin tells us, in 
 his Life that he was an assiduous imitator of Addison ; 
 and from some of these papers it will be admitted he 
 was not an unhappy one. The public will be amused 
 with following a great philosopher in his relaxation, 
 and observe in what respects philosophy tends to elu 
 cidate and improve the most common subjects. The. 
 editor has purposely avoided such papers, as by their 
 scientifical nature, were less adapted for general pe 
 rusal. 
 
 He subjoins a letter from the late celebrated and 
 amiable Dr. Price, to a gentleman in Philadelphia, 
 upon the subject of Dr. Franklin s memoirs of his own 
 life. 
 
 Hackney, June 19, 1790. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 "I am hardly able to tell you how kindly I take the 
 letters with which you favor me. Your last contain 
 ing 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 1757, and I understand that since he sent over 
 
PREFACE. 7 
 
 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 ; arid in looking for- 
 jj, ward 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 fromhim, 
 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 let 
 ter of the honor shown to his memory at Philadelphia, 
 and by Congress ; and yesterday I received a high ad 
 ditional pleasure, by being informed that the National 
 Assembly of France had determined to go in mourning 
 for him. What a glorious scene is opened there ! 
 The annals of the world furnish no parallel to it. One 
 of the honors 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." 
 
LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 
 
 
 
 MY DEAR SON, 
 
 I HAVE amused myself with collecting some little 
 anecdotes of my family. You may remember the in 
 quiries 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 ac 
 quainted 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 em 
 ployment 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 maybe desirous unearning what were 
 the means of which I made use, and which, thanks to 
 the assisting hand of providence, have proved so emi- 
 
10 LIFE OF 
 
 nently 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 felici 
 ty 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 favorable. 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 em 
 ploying myself, I shall yield to the inclination, so natu 
 ral in old men, to talk of themselves and their exploits, 
 and may freely follow my bent, without being tire 
 some 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 well avow it, since nobody would be 
 lieve; me were I to deny it,) I shall perhaps, by this 
 employment gratify my vanity. Scarcely indeed have 
 I ever heard or read the introductory phrase, " I may 
 say without vanity," but some striking and character 
 istic 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 conspq^nce, it would, 
 in many cases, nut i>o wholly absurd, that a man should 
 count his vanity among the other sweets of life, and 
 give thanks to providence for the blessing, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. II 
 
 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 forti 
 tude to support any melancholy reverse, which may 
 happen to me, as to so many others. My future for 
 tune is unknown but to him in whose hand is our des 
 tiny, and who can make our very afflictions subservient 
 to our benefit* 
 
 One of my uncles, desirous, like myself, of collect 
 ing 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 or 
 der of individuals.* 
 
 * As a proof that Franklin was anciently the common name 
 of an order or rank in England, see Judge Fortescue, De laud- 
 ibus legum Anglice, written about the year 1412, in which is 
 the following passage, to shew that good juries might easily be 
 formed in any part of England : 
 
 " ^-gio etiam ilia, ita respersa refertaque est possessoribus 
 ierrarum et agrorum, quod in ea, villula tarn parva reperiri 
 non poterit, in qua non est miles, armiger, vel pater-familias, 
 qualis ibidem franklin vulgariter nuncupatur, magnis ditatus 
 possessionibus, nee non liberi, tenentes at alii ealccti plurimi, 
 suis patrimoniis sufficientes, ad faciendum juratum, in forma, 
 praenotata." 
 
 " Moreover, the same country is so filled and replenished 
 
12 LIFE OF 
 
 This pretty estate would not have sufficed for then- 
 subsistence, had they not added the trade of black 
 smith, which was perpetuated in the family down 
 to my uncle s time, the eldest son having been uni 
 formly 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 ac 
 count of their births, marriages, and deaths, earlier 
 than in the year 1555 ; the parish register not extend 
 ing farther back than that period This register in 
 formed me, that I was the youngest son of the young 
 est branch of the family, counting five generations. 
 My grandfather, Thomas, who was born in 1598, liv 
 ing at Eaton till he was too old to continue his trade, 
 when he retired to Brambury 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 1 758. His eldest son 
 lived in the family house at Eaton, which he bequeath 
 ed, with the land belonging to it, to his only daughter; 
 who, in concert with her husband, Mr. Fisher of Wel- 
 lingborough, afterward sold it to Mr. Ested, the present 
 proprietor. 
 
 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 afore 
 mentioned." Old Translation. 
 
 Chaucer too calls his country gentleman a Franklin, and, 
 after describing his good housekeeping, thus characterises 
 him: 
 
 This worthy Franklin bore a purse of silk, 
 Fix\l to his girdle, white as morning milk. 
 Knight of the shire, first justicp ^t*^ assize, 
 To help the pour, the doubtful to advise. 
 In all employments, generous, just he prov d, 
 Ileiiown d for courtesy, by all belovU 
 
DU. FRANKLIN. 13 
 
 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 blacksmith under 
 his father ; but possessing a good natural understand 
 ing, 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 improve 
 their minds. Thomas thus rendered himself compe 
 tent to the functions of a country attorney ; soon be 
 came an essential personage in the affairs of the vil 
 lage ; and was one of the chief movers of every public 
 enterprize, 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 es 
 teem and patronage of lord Halifax, he died, January 
 6, 1702, 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 re 
 member, 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 transmi 
 gration 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 witk 
 us. A particular affection had always subsisted be 
 tween 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 in 
 vented a short-hand, which he taught me ; but having 
 
14 LIFE OF 
 
 never made use of it, I have now forgotten it. He wa*- 
 a man of piety, and a constant attendant on the best 
 preachers, whose sermons he took a pleasure in wri 
 ting 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 pam 
 phlets relative to public affairs, from the year 1641 to 
 1717. Many volumes are wanting, as appears by the 
 series of numbers ; \mt there still remain 8 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 be 
 hind 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 Refor 
 mation. They remained faithfully attached during 
 the reign of Queen Mary ; when they were in danger 
 of being molested on account of their zeal against Po 
 pery. 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 a 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 ap 
 pearance ; 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 15 
 
 Charles II. when certain ministers, who had been 
 ejected as non-conformists, 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 1682. Conventicles being at that time 
 prohibited by law, and frequently disturbed, some con 
 siderable persons of his acquaintance determined to 
 go to America, where they hoped to enjoy the free 
 exercise of their religion, and my father was prevail 
 ed 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-Eng 
 land. 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 honor 
 able mention, in his Ecclesiastical History of that pro 
 vince, as " a pious and learned Englishman" if I right 
 ly recollect his expressions. I have been told of his 
 having written a variety of little pieces ; but there ap 
 pears to be only one in print, which I met with many 
 years ago. It was published in the year 1675, 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 favor 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 coun 
 try, regarding them as the judgments of God in pu 
 nishment of so odious an offence ; and he exhorts the 
 
16 LIFE OF 
 
 government to the repeal of laws so contrary to cha 
 rity. 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 the 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, 1 hate from my very soul 
 dissimulation : 
 
 From Sherburne,* where I dwell, 
 
 I therefore put my name, 
 Your friend, who means you well. 
 
 PETER FOLGER. 
 
 My brothers were all put apprentice to different 
 trades. With respect to myself, I was sent, at the age 
 f eight years, to a grammar school. My father de 
 stined 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 ac 
 quirement) 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 un- 
 c.le Benjamin approved also of the. scheme, and pro 
 mised to give me all his volumes of sermons, written, 
 as I have said, in the short-hand of his invention, if 1 
 would take the pains to learn it. 
 
 I remained, however, scarcely a year at grammar 
 school, although, in this short interval, I had risen 
 irom 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 fa 
 ther, burthened with a numerous family, found that he 
 was incapable, without subjecting himself to difficul 
 ties, of providing for the expense of a collegiate ech*- 
 
 * ToTvnin the Islana of Nantucket 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 17 
 
 cation ; 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 Brownwel, who was a skilful master, and suc 
 ceeded very well in his profession, by employing gen 
 tle means only, and such as were calculated to en 
 courage 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 soap-boiler 
 and tallow-chandler ; a business to which he had serv 
 ed no apprenticeship, but which he embraced on his 
 arrival in New-England, because he found his own, 
 (hat of a 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 in 
 clination 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 
 vith other children, the helm was commonly deput 
 ed 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 embarrass 
 ments. I shall give an instance of this, which demon 
 strates an early disposition of mind for public enter 
 prises, 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 accustom 
 ed to take our stand at high water, to angle for small 
 fish. By dint of walking, we had converted the place 
 2 * 
 
IB LIFE OF 
 
 into a perfect quagmire. My proposal was ta erect a 
 wharf that should afford us firm footing ; and I point 
 ed out to my companions a large heap of stones, intend 
 ed for the building a new house near the marsh, and 
 which were well adapted for our purpose. Accord 
 ingly, when the workmen retired in the evening, I as 
 sembled a number of my play-fellows, and by laboring 
 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 ; 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 sort of a man my father was. He had an excel 
 lent constitution, was of a middle size, but well made 
 and strong, and extremely active in whatever he un 
 dertook. He designed with a degree of neatness, and 
 knew a little of music. His voice was sonorous and 
 agreeable ; so that w r hen he sung a psalm or hymn, 
 with 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 oc 
 casion, 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 en 
 gaged, because his numerous family and the medioc 
 rity of his fortune, kept him unremittingly employed 
 in the duties of his profession. But 1 well remem 
 ber that the leading men of the plw used fre- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 19 
 
 qiiently to come and ask his advice respecting affairs 
 of the town, or of the church to which he belonged, 
 and that they paid much deference to his opinion. In 
 dividuals 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 pos 
 sible, some friends or well informed neighbors, capa 
 ble 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 good or bad flavor, high season 
 ed 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 always 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 par 
 ticularly 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 consider 
 able 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 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 ; 
 
20 LIFE OF 
 
 " Here lie 
 
 " JOSIAS FRANKLIN, and ABIAH his wife : They lived 
 together with reciprocal affection for fifty-nine years ; 
 and without private fortune, without lucrative em 
 ployment, by assiduous labor and honest industry, de 
 cently 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 com 
 pany as for a formal ball. This deserves perhaps the 
 name of negligence. 
 
 To return. I thus continued employed in my fa 
 ther 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 mar 
 ried 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 fa 
 ther 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 some 
 times 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. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 21 
 
 .derived no small pleasure from seeingskilful 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 ma 
 chines for my experiments, while the idea I have con 
 ceived has been fresh and strongly impressed on my 
 imagination. 
 
 My father at length decided that I should be a cut 
 ler, 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 him 
 self 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 
 cf reading, and I laid out in books all the money 
 I could procure. I was particularly pleased with ac 
 counts of voyages. My first acquisition was Bunyan s 
 collection, in small separate volumes. These I after 
 wards 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 prac 
 tical 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 eligi 
 ble 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 de 
 voted 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 fa* 
 ther to make me a printer, though he had already a 
 
22 LIFE OF 
 
 son in that profession. My brother had returned from 
 England in 1717, 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 fa 
 ther was impatient to see me engaged with my brother. 
 I held back for some time ; at length however I suffer 
 ed myself to be persuaded, and signed my indentures, 
 being then only twelve years of age. It was agreed 
 that I should serve as apprentice to the age of twenty- 
 one, and should receive journeyman s wages only dur 
 ing 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 booksel 
 lers 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 next morning, lest it 
 might be missed or wanted. 
 
 At length Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious trades 
 man, 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 Capt. Wor- 
 thilake and his two daughters; the other was a sailor s 
 iong on the capture of the noted pirate called Teach , 
 or Black-beard. They were wretched verses in point 
 of style, mere blind-men s ditties. When printed, b^ 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 23 
 
 uispatched 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 fa 
 ther checked my exultation, by ridiculing my produc 
 tions, and telling me that versifiers were always poor. 
 I thus escaped the misfortune of being, probably, a ve 
 ry 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, F 
 shall relate by what means, situated as I was, I acquir 
 ed 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 frequent 
 ly renders a man s company insupportable, as being 
 no otherwise capable of indulgence, than by an indiscri 
 minate contradiction. Independently of the acrimony 
 and discord it introduces into conversation, it is often 
 productive of dislike, and even hatred, between per 
 sons to whom friendship is indispensably necessary. I 
 acquired it by reading, while I lived with my father, 
 books of religious controversy. I have since remark 
 ed, that men of sense seldom fall into this error ; law 
 yers, fellows of universities, and persons .of every pro 
 fession educated at Edinburgh, excepted. 
 
 Collins and I fell one day into an argument relative 
 to the education of women ; namely, whether it were 
 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 copi- 
 
24 LIFE OF 
 
 ously 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 for some time, I committed my tho ts 
 to paper, made a fair copy, and sent it him. He an 
 swered, and I replied. Three or four letters had been 
 written by each, when my father chanced to light upoa 
 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 ad 
 versary 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 lan 
 guage, and resolved to make every eifort to improve 
 my style. Amidst these resolves an odd volume of 
 the Spectator fell into my hands.- This was a publica 
 tion 1 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, employ 
 ing the most appropriate words that occurred to my 
 mind. I afterwards compared my Spectator with the 
 original ; I perceived some faults, which 1 corrected : 
 but I found that I wanted a fund of words, if I may so 
 express myself, and a facility of recollecting and em 
 ploying 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. j 
 
 lor the rhyme, would have obliged me to seek for & 
 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 togeth 
 er ; 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 perform 
 ance with the original, many faults were apparent,, 
 which I corrected ; but I had sometimes the satisfac 
 tion to think, that in certain particulars of little im 
 portance, 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 de 
 cently in the English language, which was one of the 
 greatest objects of my ambition. 
 
 The time which I devoted to these exercises, and to 
 reading, was the evening after my day s labor was 
 finished, the morning before it began, and Sunday, 
 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 con 
 sidered 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 Tryon 
 fell into my hands, in which he recommends vegeta 
 ble diet. I determined to observe it. My brother, be 
 ing a bachelor, did not keep house, but boarded with 
 his apprentices in a neighbouring family. My refus 
 ing 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 dish- 
 es, particularly how to boil potatoes and rice, and 
 make hasty puddings. I then said to my brother, tha* 
 
26 LIFE OF 
 
 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 advan 
 tages resulted to me from the plan. When my bro 
 ther and his workmen left the printing-house to go to 
 dinner, I remained behind ; and dispatching my fru 
 gal 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 pro 
 gress 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 on day been 
 put to the blush for my ignorance in the art of calcula 
 tion, 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 Understand 
 ing, 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 
 011 rhetoric and logic. In the latter I found a model of 
 disputation after the manner of Socrates. Shortly af 
 ter I procured Xenophon s work, entitled, Memorable 
 things of Socrates, in which are various examples of 
 the same method. Charmed to a degree of enthusi 
 asm with this mode of disputing, I adopted it, and re 
 nouncing blunt contradiction, and direct and positive 
 argument, I assumed the character of a humble ques 
 tioner. The perusal of Shaftsbury and Collins had 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 7 
 
 made me a sceptic ; and being previously so as to ma 
 ny doctrines of Christianity, I found Socrates method 
 to be both the 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 consequences. Thus 
 I involved them in difficulties from which they were 
 unable to extricate themselves, and sometimes ob 
 tained victories, which neither my cause nor my ar 
 guments 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 diffi 
 dence, 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 opin 
 ion. 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 to be informed, 
 to please or to persuade, I could wish that intelligent 
 and well-meaning men would not themselves diminish 
 the powers 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 speecli has been be 
 stowed 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, 
 
iiS LIFE OF 
 
 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 a tranquil possession of your errors. By 
 following such a method, you can rarely hope to please 
 your auditors, conciliate their goodwill, or work con 
 viction 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, tho" 1 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 1720, or 1721, my brother began to print a new 
 public paper. It was the second that made its appear 
 ance in America, and was entitled tiuttfew-England 
 Courant. The only one that existed before was the 
 Boston News Letter. Some of his friends, I remem- 
 Her. would have dissuaded him from this undertaking, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. *) 
 
 is a thing that was not likely to succeed ; a single 
 newspaper being, in their opinion, sufficient for all 
 America. At present, however, in 1777, 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 com 
 posing and working them off. 
 
 Among his friends he had a number of literary cha 
 racters, who, as an amusement, wrote short essays for 
 the paper, which gave it reputation and increased its 
 sale. These gentlemen came frequently to our house. 
 I heard the conversation that passed, and the accounts 
 they gave of the favorable 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 pa 
 per 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 jnorning. My brother commu 
 nicated 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 1 had hith 
 erto supposed them. Be that as it may, encouraged 
 by this little adventure, I wrote arid sent to the 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 perform 
 ances was pretty completely exhausted, when I m-ido 
 myself known. 
 
 My brother, upon this discovery, began to entertain 
 3 * 
 
30 LIFE OF 
 
 a little more respect for me ; but he still regarded 
 himself as my master, and treated me like an appren- 
 :ice. He thought himself entitled to the same services 
 from me as from any other person. On the contrary, 
 I conceived that in im;ny instances, he was too rigor 
 ous, and that on the part of a brother, I had a right to 
 expect a greater indulgence. Our disputes were fre 
 quently brought before my father; ancl either my bro 
 ther Avas generally in the 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 treat 
 ment 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 continally 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 au 
 thor. I was also taken up and examined beforo 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 re 
 sentment, notwithstanding our private quarrels. Dur 
 ing its continuance the management of the paper was 
 entrusted to me, and I was bold enough to insert some 
 pasquenades against the governors ; which highly 
 pleased my brother, while others began to look upon 
 me in an unfavorable point of view, considering me 
 as a young wit inclined to satire and lampoon. 
 
 My brother s enlargement was accompanied with an 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. Si- 
 
 arbitrary order from the House of Assembly, " That 
 " James Franklin should no longer print the newspa- 
 " per entitled the Nerv-England Courant." In this 
 conjuncture, we held a consultation of our friends at 
 the printing-house, in order to determine what was pro 
 per to be done. Some proposed to evade the order by 
 changing the title of the paper : but my brother fore 
 seeing inconveniencies that would result from this 
 step, thought it better that it should in future be print 
 ed 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 inden 
 tures 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 anew 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 ap 
 pearance 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 dishonorable 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 esti 
 mating it at its true value, embittered as my mind had 
 been at 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 of 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 employ 
 ment elsewhere. He went to all the printing-houses 
 in the town, and prejudiced the masters against me ; 
 
32 LIFE OF 
 
 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. Far 
 ther 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 begun to be re 
 garded, by pious souls, with horror, either as an apos 
 tate, or an atheist. I came therefore to a resolution ; 
 but my father, in this instance, siding with my brother, 
 I presumed that if 1 attempted to depart openly, mea 
 sures would be taken to prevent me. My friend Col 
 lins undertook to favor 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 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 appear 
 ance or 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 17 years, 
 without knowing an individual in the place, and with 
 very little money in my pocket. 
 
 The inclination I had felt for a seafaring life was 
 entirely subsided, or I should have been able to gratify 
 it ; but having another trade, and believing myself to 
 be a tolerable workman, I hesitated not to offer my ser 
 vices to the 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 per- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 35 
 
 sons as he wanted ; but he told me that his son, printer 
 at Philadelphia, had lately lost his principal workman, 
 Aquila Rose, who was dead, and that if I would go 
 thither, he believed that he would engage me. Phi 
 ladelphia was a hundred miles farther. I hesitated 
 not to embark in a boat in order to repair, by the short 
 est cut of the sea, to Amboy, leaving my trunk and ef 
 fects 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 
 os 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 work, Bunyan s Voyages, 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 nar 
 rative 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 has Rich 
 ardson 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 cabl 
 
34 LIFL 01- 
 
 towards the shore. Some men, who stood upon the 
 brink, hallooed 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 under 
 stand us, or they deemed our request impracticable, 
 imd 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 com 
 pletely 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 pass 
 ed 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 ferry 
 boat, 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 run 
 away servant. This I discovered by the questions 
 ihat were asked me : and I felt that I was every nio* 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 3y 
 
 ment 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 Burling 
 ton, that was kept by one Dr. Brown. 
 
 This man entered into conversation with me while 1 
 I took some refreshment, and perceiving I had read a 
 little, he expressed to wards 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 nor literature, but he was a 
 sad infidel, and, some years after, undertook to tra 
 vesty the Bible in burlesque verse, as Cotton has tra 
 vestied 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 Burling 
 ton the next morning. On my arrival, I had the mor 
 tification 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 follow 
 ing. 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 
 for on foot, I accepted the invitation. When she un 
 derstood that I was a Printer, she would have persuad 
 ed me to stay at Burlington, and set up my trade ; but 
 she was little aware of the capital that would be neces 
 sary 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 w r ould 
 accept of nothing in return but a pint of ale. 
 
 Here I imagined myself to be fixed till the Tuesday 
 
36 LIFE OF 
 
 in the ensuing week, but walking out in the evening 
 by the river side, I saw a boat with a number of per 
 sons 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 unwil 
 ling 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 staved 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 mo 
 ment we were out of the creek. We arrived on Sun 
 day 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 maybe able to compare begin 
 nings so little auspacious, with the figure I have since 
 made. 
 
 On my arrival at Philadelphia I was in my working 
 dress, my best clothes being to come by sea. I was 
 covered with dirt ; my pockets were filled with shirts 
 and stockings ; 1 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 
 rny money consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a 
 shilling s worth of coppers which I gave to the boat 
 men for my passage. As I had assisted them in row 
 ing, 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 
 bis poverty. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. oT 
 
 1 walked towards the top of the street, looking ea 
 gerly on both sides, till I came to Market-street, where 
 T met a child with a loaf of bread. Often had I made 
 my dinner on dry bread. I inquired where he had 
 bought it, and went straight to the baker s shop which 
 he pointed out to me. I asked for some biscuits, ex 
 pecting to find such as we had in 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 de 
 sired 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, ob 
 served me, and thought, with reason, that 1 made a 
 very singular and grotesque appearance. 
 
 I then turned the corner ; and went through Ches 
 nut-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 had 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 Quakers 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 want of rest, I fell 
 into a sound sleep. In this state I continued till the 
 assembly dispersed, when one of the congregation hi<~ 
 
03 LIFE O* 
 
 the goodness to wake me. This was consequently 
 the first house I entered, or in which I slept at Phila 
 delphia. 
 
 I began again to walk along the street by the river 
 ^ide ; 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 lodg 
 ing. We were then near the sign of the Three Ma 
 riners. 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 show 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 excitingthe suspicion of my be 
 ing a runaway. After dinner my drowsiness returned, 
 and I threw myself upon a bed without taking oil 
 my clothes, and slept till 6 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 Mr. Andrew Brad 
 ford the printer. I found his father in the shop, whom 
 I had seen at New-York. Having travelled on horse 
 back, he had arrived at Philadelphia before me. He 
 introduced me to his soil, who received me with civility, 
 ti nd gave me breakfast; but told me he had no occa 
 sion at present for a journeyman, having lately procur 
 ed 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 a refusal, I 
 should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would 
 give me a little work now and then, till something bet 
 ter should offer. 
 
 The old man offered to introduce me to the new 
 printer. When we were at his house : " Neighbor," 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. Ct 
 
 said he, " I bring you a young man in the printing bu 
 siness ; perhaps you may have need of his services." 
 
 Keimcr asked me some questions, put a composing 
 stick in my hand to see how I could work, and ther: 
 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 hi? 
 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 Kcimer 
 had said, that he hoped shortly to be in possession of 
 *he 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 Eng 
 lish letters, with which he was himself 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 of 
 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 endeavor 
 ed to put his press in order, which he had not yet used., 
 and of which indeed he understood nothing : and hav 
 ing promised to come and work off his elegy as soon 
 is it should be ready, I returned to the house of Brad 
 
 
40 LIFE 01 
 
 ford, who gave me some trifle to do lor the present, 
 for which I had my board and lodging. 
 
 In a few days Keimer sent for me to print off hi-; 
 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. Brad 
 ford had not been brought up to it, and was very illit 
 erate. Keimer, though he understood a little of the 
 business, w r as merely a compositor, and wholly incapa 
 ble of working at the press. He had been one of the 
 French prophets, and knew how to imitate their su 
 pernatural agitations. At the time of our first acquaint 
 ance 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 op 
 portunity 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 land 
 lord, 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 in 
 dustry, 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 
 sooner than I had proposed. I had a brother-in-law, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 41 
 
 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 pres 
 sing 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 shewed 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 conse 
 quence, I ought to be encouraged ; and 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 no 
 thing 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 inquired 
 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 
 4 * 
 
42 LIFE OF 
 
 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 excel 
 lent 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, Avhere, while we were drinking the Ma 
 deira, 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 ap 
 peared to doubt whether my father would assist me in 
 this enterprise , Sir William said he would give me a 
 letter to him, in which he would represent the advan 
 tages 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 w r us 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 
 honor ; and I was the more sensible of it, as he con 
 versed with me in the most affable, familiar and friend 
 ly manner imaginable. 
 
 Towards the end of April, 1724, a small vessel was 
 ready to sail for Boston. I took leave of Keimer upon 
 the pretext of going to see my parents. The Gover 
 nor gave me a long letter, in which he said many flat 
 tering things 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 iry 
 
DR, FRANKLIN. 43 
 
 turn. We arrived, however, safe and sound at Bos 
 ton, after about a fortnight s passage. 
 
 I had been absent seven complete months, and my 
 relations, during that interval, had received no intelli 
 gence of me ; for my brother-in-law, Holmes, was not 
 yet returned, and had not written about me. My un 
 expected appearance surprised the family ; but they 
 were all delighted at seeing me again, and except my 
 brother, welcomed me home. I went to him at the print 
 ing-office. 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 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 likedit.. 
 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 asked 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 continu 
 ing 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 mo 
 ther spoke to him of a reconciliation, and a desire to 
 see us on good terms, he told her that I had so insult 
 ed 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 fa 
 ther some surprise : but he said little. After some 
 days, Capt. Holmes being returned, he shewed it him, 
 asking him if he knew Keith, and what sort of a man 
 he was : adding, that in his opinion, it proved very 
 ! iUle discernment to think of setting up a boy in busi- 
 
44 LIFE OF 
 
 ness, 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 favor 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 en 
 terprise, 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 ; andi 
 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 ta 
 New- York, where he proposed to wait for me. 
 
 My father, though he could not approve Sir Wil 
 liam 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 oeconomy had en 
 abled 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, 
 avoid satire and sarcasm, to which he thought I was 
 too much inclined ; adding, that with perseverance and 
 prudent ceconomy, I might by the time I became of 
 nge, save enongh 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 ble c - 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 :ring. 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 received me with 
 sreat 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 keep the money till I should hear from him : ac 
 cordingly he gave me an order for that purpose. 
 This affair occasioned me, in the sequel, much cneu 
 c iness. 
 
 At Newport we took on board a number of passen 
 gers ; among whom were two young women, and ;: 
 grave and sensible Quaker lady with her servants. 1 
 hud shown an obliging forwardness in rendering the 
 fjuakersome 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, be 
 tween 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 
 thouseemestto be ignorant of the world, and the snare? 
 fo 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 a? 
 she did, she related many things she had seen and 
 heard, which had escaped my attention, but which con 
 vinced me she was in the right 1 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 sec; 
 them. I did not however go, and it was well I did not ; 
 for the next day, the Captain missing a silver spoon,, 
 andsome other things which had been taken from the 
 
46 LIFE 0* 
 
 cabin, and knowing these women to be prostitutes, pro 
 cured 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 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 toge 
 ther ; 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 be 
 hind him. AVhen 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 1 learned, as well from himself, 
 as from the report of others, that every day since his 
 arrival at New-York he hadljeen intoxicated, and had 
 acted in a very extravagant manner. He had also play 
 ed and lost all his money ; so that I was obliged to pay 
 his expenses at the inn, and to maintain him during 
 the rest of the journey ; a burthen that was very in 
 convenient to me. 
 
 The governor of New-York, whose name was Bur- 
 net, hearing the captain say that ayoung 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 civi 
 lity, showed me his library, which was a very conside 
 rable one, and we talked for some time upon books and 
 authors. This was the second governor who had ho 
 nored me with his attention ; and to a poor boy, as I 
 {hen was these little adventures dicinot fail to be plea? 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 4T 
 
 We arrived at Philadelphia. On the way I receiv 
 ed 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 be 
 trayed his bad habit ; for, though he had recommend 
 ations, he met with no success, and continued to 
 lodge and eat with me, and at my expense. 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 dis 
 cord between us ; for when he had drank a little too 
 much, he was very headstrong. 
 
 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 com 
 pany ; what signifies whether he assists or not. But, 
 already angry with him for his conduct in other re 
 spects, 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 apprehension 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 with the oars to make 
 him let go his hold. He was nearly suffocated with 
 rage, but obstinately refused making any promise fc> 
 
LJ1E 01- 
 
 row. Perceiving at length that his strength begun tq 
 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 adven 
 ture. 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, w r ith 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 sup 
 posed me too young to be entrusted with the manage- 
 / ment 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 discre 
 tion, 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 seem 
 ing cordiality, thut 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 conti 
 nued to do so. Had my reliance on the governor been 
 known, some friend, better acquainted with his cha 
 racter than myself, would doubtless have advised me 
 not to trust him ; for 1 afterwards learned that he was 
 universally known to be liberal of promises, which he 
 had no intention to perform. But having never soli 
 cited him, how could I suppose his offers to be deceit- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 4 
 
 ful ? 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 expense of which I had calculated at about a hun 
 dred pounds sterling. He expressed his approbation, 
 but asked if my presence in England, that I might 
 choose the characters myself, and see that every arti 
 cle was good in its kind, would not be an advantage. 
 You will also be able, said he, to form some acquaint 
 ance there, and establish a correspondence with sta 
 tioners and booksellers. This I acknowledged was 
 desirable. That being the case, added he, hold your 
 self 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 de 
 mand of his money till several years after. 
 
 In the account of my first voyage from Boston to 
 Philadelphia, I omitted I believe a trifling circum 
 stance, 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. Mean 
 while I had formerly been extremely fond offish ; and 
 when one of these cod was taken out of the frying-pan, 
 ji thought its flavor delicious. I hesitated so 
 6 
 
50 LIFE OF 
 
 between principle and inclination, till at last recollect 
 ing, that when the cod had been opened, some small 
 iish 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 de 
 gree of pleasure, and have since continued to catlike 
 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 for 
 mer enthusiasm ; and being fond of argument, we fre 
 quently 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 unabFe 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 estab 
 lishment of a new religious sect. He was to propo- 
 gate 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 ; 
 ijut I consented to adopt them, provided he would ab- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. *! 
 
 vtam from animal food. I doubt, said he, whether my 
 constitution will be able to support it. I assured him 
 on the contrary, that 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 com 
 pany ; and in reality we continued it for three months. 
 A woman in the neighborhood prepared and brought 
 us our victuals, to whom I gave a list of forty dishes ; 
 in the composition of which there entered neither flesh 
 nor fish. This fancy was the more agreeable to me, 
 as it turned to good account ; for the whole expense 
 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 in 
 troducing gradually such alterations of regimen. 
 
 I continued it cheerfully ; but poor Keimer suffer* 
 ed terribly. Tired of the project, he sighed for the 
 flesh pots 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 pre 
 vent matters being carried too 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 btisi- 
 
3"2 LIFE OF 
 
 ness. Perhaps also she thought that my expectations 
 were not so well founded as 1 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 sen 
 sible 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 contribut 
 ed 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 ad 
 dress, 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 produc 
 tions. 
 
 It was a custom with us to take a charming walk on 
 Sundays, in the woods that border on the SchuylkilL 
 Here we read together, and afterwards conversed on 
 what we read. Ralph was disposed to give himself 
 ap 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 pretend 
 ed, when they first began to write, committed as 
 many faults as himself. Osborne endeavored to dis 
 suade him from it, by assuring him that he had no ge 
 nius for poetry, and advised him to stick to the trade 
 >n 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 suc 
 ceeding 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN 53 
 
 expressed my approbation of amusing ourselves some 
 times 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 vers 
 es of his own composition. Our object in this com 
 petition was to benefit each other by our mutual re 
 marks, 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 describ 
 ed the descent of the deity. 
 
 The time of our meeting drew near, when Ralph 
 called upon me and told me his piece was ready. I 
 informed him that I hud been idle, and, not much 
 liking the task, had done nothing. He showed me his 
 piece, and asked 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 riot 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 transcrib 
 ed 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 admissi 
 ble, and the piece must be produced. It was read and 
 re-read* Watson and Osborne immediately resigned 
 
 a * 
 
i4 . LWE 0V 
 
 the palm, and united in applauding it. Ralph alone 
 made a few remarks, and proposed some alterations ; 
 but I defended my text. Os borne agreed with me, 
 and told Ralph he was no more able to criticise than 
 jie was able to write. 
 
 When Osborne was alone with me, he expressed 
 himself still more strongly in favor of what he consi 
 dered as my performance. He pretended that he had 
 put some restraint on himself before, apprehensive of 
 my construing his commendation into flattery. But 
 who would have supposed, said he, Franklin to be ca 
 pable of such a composition ? What painting, what 
 energy, what fire ! He has surpassed the original. In 
 his common conversation he appears not to have 
 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 resolution 
 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 be 
 came, 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 
 
 * Probably the Dunciad, where we find him thus immor 
 talised by the author : 
 
 Silence ye wolves, while RALPH to Cynthia howls, 
 And makes night hideous ? answer him, ye owls f 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 55 
 
 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 friends ; and par 
 ticularly a letter of credit, in order to obtain the neces 
 sary sum for the purchase of my press, types, and pa 
 per. 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, de 
 termined to accompany me in this voyage. His ob 
 ject was supposed to be the establishing a correspond 
 deuce 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 Phila 
 delphia. 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 im 
 portance, but that he would send the letters on board, 
 and that he wished me, with all his heart, a good voy 
 age and speedy return. I returned, somewhat aston- 
 
5d LIFE OF 
 
 ished, to the ship, but still without entertaining the 
 slightest suspicion. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton, a celebrated barrister of Philadel 
 phia, had taken a passage to England for himself and 
 his son, and, in conjunction with Mr. Denham, a qua- 
 ker, 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 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 expense, to plead the cause of a vessel 
 that had been seized : and just as we were about to 
 sail, colonel Finch 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 Finch, I asked 
 the captain for the letters that were to be intrusted 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 op 
 portunity 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. til 
 
 as his word, and allowed me to search 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 ; par 
 ticularly one to Mr. Basket the king s printer, and an 
 other 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 
 I 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 cus 
 tomers. 
 
 I Avas astonished at finding these letters were not 
 from the governor. Reflecting and putting circum 
 stances 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 charac 
 ter, 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 advantageous 
 ly 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 se 
 curity. We learned from his letter, that he was se 
 cretly carrying on an intrigue, in concert with the 
 governor, to the prejudice of Mr. Hamilton, who it 
 
&* LIFE OF 
 
 was supposed would by this time be in Europe. Den 
 ham, who was Hamilton s friend, was of opinion thai 
 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 con 
 sequence 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 in 
 structions 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-six-pence 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, in 
 formed me of his intention to remain in England, and 
 that he had no thoughts of ever returning to Philadel 
 phia. 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 W T ilkes, 
 to whom he applied, frankly advised him to renounce 
 the idea, as it was impossible to succeed. He next 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. W 
 
 proposed to Roberts, a bookseller in Paternoster-Row f 
 to write a weekly paper in the manner of the Specta 
 tor, upon terms to which Roberts would not listen. 
 Lastly, he endeavored 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 Pal 
 mer s, at that time a noted printer in Bartholomew- 
 Close, with whom I continued nearly a year. I ap 
 plied 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 forgot 
 ten 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 WoolastoiTs Religion of Nature. Some of his ar 
 guments appearing to me not to be well founded, I 
 wrote a small metaphysical treatise, in which I animad 
 verted on those passages. It was entitled a Disserta 
 tion 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 acquain 
 tance 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 
 
 
SU LIFE OF 
 
 retribution, of which I have now forgotten the price, I 
 should have free access to his library, and t i: ke 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 Infilli- 
 bility of Human Judgment, was the occasion of a con 
 siderable intimacy between us. He expressed great 
 esteem for me, came frequently to see me in order 
 to converse upon metaphysical subjects, arid introdu 
 ced me to Dr. Mandeville, author of the Fable of 
 Bees, who had instituted a club at a tavern in Cheap- 
 side, of which he was the soul : he was a facetious 
 and very amusing character. He also introduced me, 
 at Baston s coffee-house, to Dr. Pemberton, who pro 
 mised 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 Ame 
 rica ; the principal of which was a purse made of as 
 bestos, 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 fame 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 conver 
 sation was very agreeable. Ralph read plays to her 
 every evening. They became intimate. She took 
 another lodging, and he followed he^. They lived for 
 some time together ; but Ralph L ,g without employ 
 rnent, she having a child, and the profits of her busi-> 
 aessnot sufficing for the maintenance of thre n h" r*> 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 01 
 
 solved to quit London, and try a country school. This 
 was apian in which he thought himself likely to suc 
 ceed, as he wrote a tine hand, and was versed in arith 
 metic and accounts. But considering the office as be 
 neath 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 honorable, he changed his name, and did me the 
 honor of assuming mine. He wrote to me soon after 
 his departure, informing me that he was settled at a 
 email village in Berkshire. In his letter he recom 
 mended Mrs. T***, the milliner, to my care, and re 
 quested 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 compos 
 ing, and which he requested me to criticise and cor 
 rect. I did so, but not without endeavouring to pre 
 vail 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 her difficulties, I lent her all 
 the money I could spare. I felt a little too much fond 
 ness for her. Having at that time no ties of religion, 
 and taking advantage of her necessitous situation, ! 
 attempted liberties, (another error of rny life,) which 
 she repelled with becoming indignation. She inform 
 ed Ralph of my conduct, and the affair occasioned a 
 breach between us. When he returned to London, 
 lie gave me to understand that he considered all the 
 obligations he owed me as annihilated by this proceedr 
 
62 LIFE OF 
 
 ing ; whence I concluded that I was never to expect 
 the payment of what money I had lent him, or advan 
 ced on his account. I was the less afflicted at this, a?? 
 he was unable to pay me : and as, by losing his friend 
 ship, I was relieved at the same time from a very 
 heavy burthen. 
 
 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 conti 
 nued 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 prin 
 ters 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 employ 
 ed both hands to carry one. They were surprised to 
 see, by this and many other examples, that the Ameri 
 can Aquatic, as they used to call me, was stronger thasi 
 those whot 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 din 
 ner, 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, said he, of all this beer, in order to ac 
 quire strength to work. 
 
 I endeavoured to convince him that 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. C$ 
 
 portion of flour in a penny loaf, and that consequently 
 if he eat 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 heer, and 
 paying every Saturday night a score of four or five 
 shillings aweek for this cursed beverage ; an expense 
 from which I was wholly exempt. Thus do those 
 poor devils continue all their lives in a state of volun 
 tary 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 
 afresh. 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 remain 
 ed two or three weeks on the fraternity. I was con 
 sequently 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 bro 
 ken, &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 sooh acquired considerable in 
 fluence among them. I proposed some alterations in 
 the laws of the chapel, which I carried without opposi 
 tion. 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 neigh 
 bouring house, a good bason of warm gruel, in which 
 
 * Printing-houses in general are thus denominated by the 
 the spirit they call by tho nanr.e of R"h 7 i, 
 
tfi LIFE OF 
 
 was a small slice of butter, with toasted bread and nut 
 meg. This was a much better breakfast, which did 
 not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, three-half 
 pence, and at the same time, preserving 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 ; theii 
 tight, as they used to call it, being out. I attended at 
 the pay-table every Saturday evening, to take up the 
 little sum of money which I had made myself answer- 
 able 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 plea 
 sant manner. 
 
 My lodging in Little Britain being too far fronUhe 
 printing-house, I took another in Duke-street, oppo 
 site the Roman 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, t< 
 inquire into my character, she agreed to take me m 
 it the same price, three-and-sixpence a week ; con 
 tenting herself, she said, with so little because of the 
 security she should derive, as they were all women, 
 from having a man lodged in the house. 
 
 She was a woman rather advanced in life, the daiign 
 ter of a clergyman. She had been educated a 1 1 
 restant; but her husband, whose memory she highly 
 had converted her to the Catholic religion, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. do 
 
 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. Tier s 
 was so amusing to me, that I was glad to pass the 
 evening with her as often as she desired it. Our sup 
 per consisted only of half an anchovy a-piece, upon 
 a slice of bread and butter, with a half pint of ale be 
 tween us. But the entertainment was in her conver 
 sation. 
 
 The early hours I kept, and the little trouble I oc 
 casioned the family, made her loath to part with me ; 
 ajid 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, du 
 ring the remainder of my abode in London, at eighteen- 
 pence a week. 
 
 In a garret of the house there lived, in the most re 
 tired 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 
 eturn to England, where, as there were no monas 
 tics, she made a vow to lead a monastic life, in as 
 rigid a manner as circumstances would permit. She 
 
 ordmgly disposed of all her property to be applied 
 
 o 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, arid never ma- 
 
 King use of hre but to boil it. She had lived in this 
 
 et a great many years, without paying rent to the 
 
 successive Catholic inhabitants that had kept the 
 
 Muse : who indeed considered her abode with them 
 
 6 * 
 
-Jt> LIFE OF 
 
 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 i 
 confessor? To which she answered, that it was im 
 possible to avoid vain thoughts. 
 
 I was once permitted to visit her. She was cheer 
 ful and polite, and her conversation agreeable. Her 
 apartment was neat ; but the whole furniture consist 
 ed of a matrass, 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 
 jher 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 by the name of Wygate, who, as 
 his parents were in good circumstances, had received 
 n better education than is common with printers. He 
 #as a tolerable Latin scholar, spoke French fluently, 
 ^id was fond of reading. I taught him, as well as a 
 .friend of his, to swim, by taking him 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 Sol- 
 iero s curiosities. On our return, at the request of 
 the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, 1 
 undressed myself, and leaped into the river, 
 from near Chelsea, the whole way to Blackfriar s 
 Bridge, exhibiting, during my course, a variety ot 1 
 of activity and address, both upon the surface ot t 
 water, as well as under it. This sight occasioned 
 much astonishment and pleasure to those to wh< 
 was new. In my youth, I took great delight m tt 
 exercise. I knew, and could execute all the evolutions 
 and positions of Thevenot ; and I added to them some 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 67 
 
 of my own invention, in which I endeavoured to unite 
 gracefulness and utility. I took a pleasure in display 
 ing 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 our 
 selves at the same time by working at our profession. 
 I was on the point of consenting, when I mentioned it 
 to my friend Denham, with whom I was glad to pass 
 an hour whenever I had leisure. He dissuaded me 
 from the project, and advised me to return to Philadel 
 phia, which he was about to do himself. I must re- 
 Jate 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 depart 
 ed for America, where, by assiduous application as a 
 merchant, he acquired in a few years a very consider 
 able fortune. Returning ta England in the same ves 
 sel 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 ex 
 pected nothing more than a simple entertainment, 
 each found under his plate, when it came to be remov 
 ed, a draft upon a banker for the residue of his debt> 
 with interest. 
 
 He told me 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 acquired a know 
 ledge of mercantile transactions, he would improve 
 my situation, by sending me with a cargo of corn and 
 9our to the American islands, and by procuring me 
 
68 LIFE OF 
 
 other lucrative commissions ; so that, with good ma 
 nagement and oeconomy, I might in time begin busi 
 ness 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 forever, of printing, and gave myself up 
 entirely to my new occupation, spending all iny time 
 either in going from house to house with Mr. Denham 
 to purchase goods, or in packing them up, or in expe 
 diting the workmen, &c. &c. When every thing how 
 ever 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 know only by name. It was Sir 
 William Windham. I went to his house. He had 
 by some means heard of my performances between 
 Chelsea and Blackfriars, and that I had taught the act 
 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 in 
 struct them. They were not yet arrived in town, and 
 the stay I should make myself was uncertain ; I could 
 not therefore accept his proposal. I was led however 
 to suppose from this incident, that if I had wished to re 
 main 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 return 
 ing as yet to America. Some years after, you and I 
 had a more important business to settle with one of 
 ihe sons of Sir William Windham, then Lord Egre- 
 mont. But let us not anticipate evon*. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 69 
 
 1 thus passed about eighteen months in London, 
 working almost without intermission at my trade, 
 avoiding all expense on my own account, except go 
 ing 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, notwith 
 standing 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 excellent books I had read, 
 0r the conversation of learned and literary persons 
 with whom I was acquainted. 
 
 We sailed from Gravesend the 23d of July, 1726. 
 For the incidents of my voyage I refer you to my jour 
 nal, where you will find all the circumstances mi 
 nutely related. We landed at Philadelphia on the 
 1 1th of the following October. 
 
 Keith had been deprived of the office of governor 
 and was succeeded by Major Gordon. I met him 
 walking in the street as a private individual. He ap 
 peared a little ashamed at seeing me, but passed on 
 without saying any thing. 
 
 I should have been equally ashamed myself at meet 
 ing 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 hap 
 py, and she soon separated from him, refusing to co 
 habit 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 pa 
 rents ; but he was as bad a subject as he was excel 
 lent as a workman. He involved himself in debt, and 
 fled in the year 1727 or 1728, to the West Indies, 
 T -vbere he died. 
 
 Puringmy absence Keimer had taken a more cor* 
 
-30 LIFE OF 
 
 siderable 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 work 
 men ; among whom, however, there was not one who 
 was good for any thing ; and he appeared not to want 
 business. 
 
 Mr. Dcnham took a warehouse in Water-street, 
 where we exhibited our commodities. I applied my 
 self closely, studied accounts, and became in a short 
 time very expert in trade. We lodged and eat to 
 gether. 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, 1727, 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 dis 
 agreeable 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 rne a small legacy in his will, as a testimony 
 of his friendship ; and I was once more abandoned to 
 myself in the wide world 5 the warehouse being confid 
 ed to the care of a testamentary executor, who dis 
 missed me. 
 
 My brother-in-law, Holmes, who happened to be at 
 Philadelphia, advised me to return to my former pro 
 fession, and Mr. Keimer offered me a very considera 
 ble salary if I would undertake the management of 
 his printing-office, that he might devote himself en 
 tirely to the superintendence of the shop. His wife 
 and relations in London had given me a bad character 
 of him ; and I was loath for the present, to have any 
 concern with him. I endeavored to get employment 
 
DR. FRANKLIN 7 . 71 
 
 as a clerk to a merchant ; but not readily finding a si 
 tuation, I was induced to accept Keimer s proposal. 
 
 The following were the persons I found in his print 
 ing house : 
 
 Hugh Merideth, a Pennsylvania!!, 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 ra 
 ther above the common order, and a competent por 
 tion of understanding and gaiety ; but a little idle. Kei- 
 mer 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 typograph 
 ic art should merit it. This future increase of wages 
 was the bait he made use of to ensnare them. Meri 
 deth was to work atthe press, and Potts to bind books, 
 which he had engaged to teach them, though he un 
 derstood 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 ap 
 prenticed to him. 
 
 I soon perceived that Keimer s intention, in en 
 gaging me at a price so much above what he was ac 
 customed to give, was, that I might form all these raw 
 journeymen and apprentices, who scarcely cost him 
 anything, and who, being indentured, would as soon 
 as they should be sufficiently instructed, enable him to 
 do without me. 1 nevertheless adhered to my agree 
 ment. I put the office in order, which was in the ut- 
 
7.2 LIFE OF 
 
 most confusion, and brought his people, by degrees, 
 to pay attention to their work, and to execute it in a 
 more masterly manner. 
 
 It was singular to see an Oxford scholar in the con 
 dition of a purchased servant. He was not more than 
 eighteen years of age ; and the following are the par 
 ticulars 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 supe 
 rior style of acting, when they represented dramatic 
 performances. He was 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 guinea? 
 to pay his quarter s board, he decamped witji the mo 
 ney from Oxford, hid his gown in a hedge, and travel 
 led 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 
 .-.ictors, became contemptible, pawned his clothes, and 
 was in want of broad. 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 Ame 
 rica, without ever writing 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 de 
 gree 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 Kcimer incapabli 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. ^ 
 
 c,f instructing them, and as they learned something 
 from me every day. We never worked on a Satur 
 day, it being Keimer s sabbath ; so that I had two 
 days in a week for reading. 
 
 I increased my acquaintance with persons of know 
 ledge and information 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 a3 
 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 a trade as 
 that of a letter-founder in America. I had seen the 
 practice of this art at the house of James, in London ; 
 but had at the same 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 matrices of clay, and thus sup 
 plied 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 foe factotum. But useful as I made my 
 self, I perceived that my services became every day 
 of less importance, in proportion as the other men im 
 proved ; and when Keimer paid me my second quar 
 ter s wages, he gave me to understand that they were 
 too heavy, and that he thought I ought to make a$ 
 abatement. He became by degrees less civil, and 
 assumed more ttj,e 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, conceiv 
 ing that his ill humour was partly occasioned by the 
 deranged and embarrassed state of his affairs. Atlasta, 
 slight incident broke our connection. Hearing a noise 
 in the neighbourhood, I put my head out of the wm 
 7 
 
Y4 LIFE OF 
 
 dow to see what was the matter. Keimer being in 
 the steeet, observed me, and in a loud and angry tone 
 told me to mind my work ; adding some reproachful 
 words, which piqued me the more as they were utter 
 ed in the street ; and the neighbours, whom the same 
 noise had attracted to the windows, were witnesses of 
 the manner in w r hich I was treated. He immediately 
 came up to the printing-room, and continued to ex-r 
 claim 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 be 
 tween us ; regretting that he was obliged to give me 
 so long a term. I told him that his regret was super 
 fluous, as I was ready to quit him instantly ; and I took 
 my hat and came out of the house, begging Mcrideth 
 to take care of some things which I left, and bring 
 them to my lodging. 
 
 Merideth 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 coun 
 try, 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 conse 
 quence he must very soon fail, which would occasion u 
 vacancy from which I might derive advantage. I ob 
 jected 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 
 would advance whatever might be necessary to estab 
 lish us, if I was willing to enter into partnership with 
 }iim. " My time with Keimer," added he, " will be 
 at an end next spring. In the mean time we may 
 to London for our press arid type?. I know that I 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 iiui no workman ; but if you agree to the proposal, 
 your skill in the business will be balanced by the capi 
 tal I will furnish, and we will share the profits equal 
 ly." His proposal was reasonable, and I fell in with it, 
 His father, who was then in the 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 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 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 en 
 gravings, which I only could furnish, and fearful that 
 Bradford, by engaging me, might deprive him of the 
 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 momen 
 tary passion, and inviting me to return to him. Meri- 
 deth persuaded me to comply with the invitation, par 
 ticularly 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 exe 
 cuted the whole to the general satisfaction ; and he 
 received a sum of money for this work which enabled 
 
Lli E OF 
 
 to keep his head above water for a considerable 
 time longer. 
 
 At Burlington I formed acquaintance with the prin 
 cipal 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 prescribed. Accordingly they were constantly 
 with us, each in his turn ; and he that came common 
 ly brought with him a friend or two to bear him com 
 pany. 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 
 ine 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 com-- 
 inon modes of life, apt to oppose with rudeness, gene 
 rally received opinions, an enthusiast in certain points 
 ef religion, disgustingly unclean iji his person, and a 
 fittle 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 Pearon, Joseph Cooper, several 
 of the Smiths, all members of the assembly, and Isaac 
 Deacon, inspector general. The last was a shrewd 
 and subtle old man. He told me, that when a boy, his 
 first employment had been in carrying clay to brick- 
 makers ; that he did not learn to write till he was some 
 what advanced in life ; that he was afterwards em 
 ployed 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 tc 
 me " that you will soon supplant this man," speaking 
 of Keimer, " and get a fortune in the business at 1 
 ladelphia." He was totally ignorant at the time ot my 
 intention of establishing myself there, or any where 
 elac. These friends were very serviceable to me xt> 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 77 
 
 the end, as was I also, upon occasion, to some of them ; 
 and they have continued ever since their esteem for 
 
 rne. 
 
 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 up 
 on the subsequent events of my life. 
 
 My parents had given me betimes religious impres 
 sions ; and I received from my infancy a pious educa 
 tion 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 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 per 
 fect deist. My arguments perverted some other 
 young persons ; particularly Collins and Ralph But 
 m 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 
 freethinker, and my own conduct towards Vernon and 
 Hiss Read, which at times gave me much uneasiness 
 1 was led to suspect that this doctrine, though itmight 
 ^ true, was not very useful. I began to entertain a 
 
 whlhTSS 2 pm , 10n f my London P am P hI *t, to 
 of Dr den prefixed as a motto > the Allowing lines 
 
 Whatever is, is right ; tho purblind man 
 bees but part of the chain, the nearest link 
 His eyes not carrying to the equal beam 
 I hat poises all above. 
 
 7 * 
 
7a LIFE OF 
 
 find of which the object was to prove, from the attri 
 butes 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 no 
 thing more than vain distinctions. I no longer re 
 garded it as so blameless a work as I had formerly im 
 agined ; and I suspected that some error must have 
 imperceptibly glided into my argument, as all the 
 inferences I had drawn from it had been affected, as it 
 frequently happens in metaphysical reasonings. In 
 a word, 1 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 
 1 resolved from that moment, and wrote the resolution 
 in my journal, to practice them as long as I lived. 
 
 Revelation indeed, as such, had no influence on my 
 mind ; but I was of opinion that, though certain ac 
 tions could not be bad merely because revelation pro 
 hibited them, or good because it enjoined them, yet 
 it was probable that those actions were prohibited be 
 cause they were bad for us, or enjoined because ad 
 vantageous in their nature, all things considered. This 
 persuasion, divine providence, or some guardian an 
 gel, and perhaps a concurrence of favorable circum 
 stances co-operating, preserved me from all immorali 
 ty, or gross and voluntary injustice, to which my want 
 of religion was calculated to expose me, in the danger 
 ous 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 dishon 
 esty of others. Thus, before I entered on my new ca 
 reer, 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 79 
 
 printing materials arrived from London. \ 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 burthensome (it was 
 then twenty-four pounds a year, but I have since 
 known it let for seventy) we admitted Thomas God 
 frey, a glazier, with his family, who eased us of a con 
 siderable part of it ; and with him we agreed to board. 
 
 We had no sooner unpacked our letter, 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 inquiring 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 fruit 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 encou 
 rage young beginners in trade. 
 
 There are in every country morose beings, who are 
 always prognosticating ruin. There was one of this 
 stamp in Philadelphia. He was a man of fortune, de 
 clined 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 open 
 ed a new printing house. Upon my answering in the 
 affirmative, he said that he was very sorry for me, as it 
 v/as 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 
 
CO LIFE OF 
 
 price of rent, to be deceitful appeaHances, which in re 
 ality contributed to hasten the general ruin ; and he 
 gave me so long a detail of misfortunes, actually ex 
 isting, 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 however continued 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 satis 
 faction to see him pay five times as much for one as it 
 would cost him had he purchased it when he first be 
 gan 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 ob 
 ject of which was to improve oor 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, poli 
 tics, 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 pleas 
 ed. Our debates were under the direction of a pre 
 sident, and were to be dictated only by a sincere de 
 sire 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 Breint 
 nal, 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 tolerably well, ingenious in many little trifles, and of 
 an agreeable conversation. 
 
 Thomas Godfrey, a skilful, though self-taught ma 
 thematician, and who was afterwards the inventor ot 
 what now goes by the name of Hartley s dial ; but he 
 had little knowledge out of his own line, and was in 
 supportable in company, always requiring, like the 
 majority of mathematicians that have fallen in my 
 way, an unusual precision in every thing that is said, 
 continually contradicting, or making trilling distinc 
 tions ; a sure way of defeating all the ends of conver 
 sation. He very soon left us. 
 
 Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, and who became after 
 wards 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 ar - 
 quired a profound knowledge of mathematics. He 
 h rst studied them with a view to astrology, and was 
 afterwards the first to laugh at his folly. He also be- 
 came surveyor-general. 
 
 William Mawgridge, a joiner, and very excellent 
 mechanic ; and in other respects a man of solid un 
 derstanding. 
 
 Hugh Merideth, 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 
 i>f his friends. 
 
 And lastly, William Colernan, at that time a mer 
 chant s clerk, and nearly of my own age. He had a 
 cooler and clearer head, a better heart, and more scru 
 pulous morals, than almost any other person I have 
 ever met with. He became a very respectable mer 
 chant, and one of our provincial jiulges. Our friend 
 ship subsisted, without interruption, for more than 
 forty years, till the period of his death : and the club 
 <!Qntini.i**d to ^xi -t almost y long-. 
 
 
32 LIFE OF 
 
 This was the best school of politics and philosophy 
 that then existed in the province ; for our questions, 
 which we read a week previous to their discussion, in 
 duced 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 regu 
 lations, and in a manner to prevent mutual disgust. 
 *To this circumstance may be attributed the long dura 
 tion of the club ; which I shall have frequent occa 
 sion to mention as I proceed. 
 
 I have introduced it here, as being one of the means 
 in which I had to count for success in my business ; 
 overy 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 Merideth put it to press. It was frequent 
 ly 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, ttiat 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 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. ^ 
 
 general opinion 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. Andrews in 
 Scotland was of a different opinion. " The industry 
 of this Franklin (said he) is superior to any thing of 
 the kind 1 have 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 as 
 sembly, 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 foolish 
 ly 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, mise 
 rably 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 Webfo 
 was to be engaged. 
 
 i was exasperated at this proceeding, and, with a 
 viow to counteract them, not being able at present to 
 
4 LIFE OF 
 
 jnstitute my own paper, I wrote some humorous 
 in Bradford s under the title of the Busy Body ;* and 
 which was continued for several months by Brciutnal. 
 I hereby fixed the attention of the public upon Brad 
 ford s paper ; and the prospectus of Keimer, which we 
 turned into ridicule, was treated with contempt. He 
 began, notwithstanding, his paper ; and after continu 
 ing 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 engage 
 ment ; 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 vin fact, the whole business devolved upon me. 
 Merideth was no compositor, and but an indifferent 
 
 Eressman ; and it was rarely that he abstained frorn 
 ard drinking. My friends were sorry to see me con 
 nected 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, inrny peculiar 
 style of writing, upon the dispute which then prevailed 
 between governor Burnet, and the Massachusetts as 
 sembly, 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 sub 
 scription 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 ad 
 vantage from it, that the leading men of the. place, sec- 
 ing in the author of this publication a man so well 
 
 * A manuscript note in the file of the American Mercury, 
 preserved in the Philadelphia library, says, that Franklin 
 .< rote the first five numbers, and part of the eighth,. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 able to use his pen, thought it right to patronise and 
 encourage me. 
 
 The votes, laws, and other public pieces, were 
 printed by Bradford. An address of the house of as 
 sembly to the governor had been executed by him iiv 
 a very coarse and incorrect manner. We reprinted it 
 with accuracy and neatness, and sent a copy to eyery 
 member. They perceived the difference ; and it so 
 strengthened the influence of our friends in the as 
 sembly, that we were nominated its printer for the 
 following year. 
 
 Among these friends I ought not to forget one mem 
 ber in particular, Mr. Hamilton, whom I have men 
 tioned 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 kind 
 ness to me till his death. 
 
 About this period, Mr. Vernon reminded me of the 
 debt I owed him, but without pressing me for pay 
 ment. I wrote him a handsome letter on the occa 
 sion, begging him to wait a little longer, to which ae 
 consented ; and as soon as 1 was able I paid him, prin 
 cipal and interest, with many expressions of grati 
 tude ; so that this error in my life was in a manner 
 atoned for. 
 
 But another trouble now happened to me, which I 
 had not the smallest reason to expect. Merideth s fa 
 ther, who, according to our agreement, was to defray 
 the whole expense of our printing materials, had only 
 paid one hundred pounds. Another hundred was still 
 due, and the merchant being tired of waiting, com 
 menced 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 de 
 lightful hopes be annihilated, and ourselves entirely 
 8 
 
S3 LIFE OF 
 
 ruined : as the types 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 them. Each offer 
 ed to me whatever sum might be necessary, to take 
 the business into my own hands, if the thing was prac 
 ticable, as they did not like I should continue in part 
 nership with Merideth, who, they s;u d, 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 
 Merideths would ful% their part of the compact, I 
 could not propose a separation ; as I conceived my 
 self 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, 1 
 -should then think myself at liberty to accept the kind- 
 ness of my friends. 
 
 Things remained for some time m this state. 
 last I safd one day to my partner, Your father is per, 
 haps dissatisfied with your having a share only m tl: 
 business, and is unwilling to do for two what he woul 
 do for you alone. Tell me frankly if that be the case 
 un d 1 will resign the whole to you, and do ior myself 
 as well as 1 can "-" No (said he) my father has really 
 been disappointed in his hopes ; he is not able fr 
 and I wish to put him to no further mconvemence.-- 
 I see that I am not at all calculated for a printer ; I 
 as a fanner, and it was absurd in me to 
 
 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 87 
 
 resume my former occupation. You will doubt 
 less find friends that 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 u 
 new saddle, I will renounce the partnership, and con 
 sign over the whole stock to you." 
 
 I accepted this proposal without hesitation. It was 
 committed to paper, and signed and sealed without de 
 lay. 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 r^eived with great satis 
 faction. 
 
 As soon as he was gone I applied to my two friend:?, 
 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, 
 -Tins was, I think, in the year 1729, 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, which amount- 
 
 ed to fifteen thousand pound, being soon to expire. 
 
 The wealthy inhabitants, prejudiced against every 
 t of paper currency, from the fear of its deprecia 
 tion, of which there had been an instance in the pro- 
 vmce of New-England, to the injury of its holders, 
 strongly opposed the measure. We had discussed this 
 afi ir m our junto, in which I was on the side of the 
 new emission ; convinced that the first small sum f a - 
 tjmc ted in 1723, had done much good in the province, 
 avouring commerce, industry and population, since 
 
88 LIFE OF 
 
 all the houses were now inhabited, and many ether*- 
 building ; whereas I remembered to have seen, when 
 first I 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 signi 
 fying that they were to be let ; which made me think 
 at the time that the inhabitants of the town were de 
 serting 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 1 
 had acquired in the house, persuaded that I had done 
 the country essential service on this occasion, reward- 
 ed me by giving me the printing of the bills. It was 
 a lucrative employment, and proveci a very seasonable 
 help to me ; another advantage which I derived from 
 having habituated myself to write. 
 
 Time and experience so fully demonstrated the util 
 ity of paper currency, that it never after experienced 
 any considerable opposition ; so that it soon amounted 
 to 55,OOOJ. and in the year 1739 to 80,000/. It has 
 since risen, during the last war, to 350,000/. trade, 
 buildings and population having in the interval co 
 linually increased ; but I am now convinced that the** 
 are limits beyond which paper money would be pre 
 judicial. f . 1 
 
 I soon after obtained, by the influence of my 
 Hamilton, the printing of the -Newcastle paper money, 
 another profitable work, as I then thought it, kttl 
 things appearing great to persons of moderate fortune ; 
 
DR. FRANKLIN: no 
 
 and they were really gre.it to me, as proving great en 
 couragements. He also procured me the printing of 
 the laws and votes of that government which I retain 
 ed 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 ac 
 curate form than had yet been seen in that p >rt of the 
 world ; a work in which I was assisted by my friend 
 Brientnal. I had also paper, parchment, pasteboard, 
 books, &c. One Whitemash, an excellent composi 
 tor, whom I had known in London, came to offer him 
 self. I engaged him, and he continued constantly and 
 diligently to work with me. I also took an appren 
 tice, the son of Aquila Rose. 
 
 I began to pay, by degrees, the debt I had contract 
 ed ; and in order to insure my credit and character as 
 a tradesman, I took care not only to be really indus 
 trious 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 nor hunting : A book indeed enticed me some 
 times 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 on 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 dimin 
 ished every day, he was at last forced to sell his stock 
 to satisfy his creditors ; and he betook himself to Bar- 
 badoes, where he lived for some time in a very im 
 poverished state. His apprentice, David Harry, whom 
 I had instructed while I worked with Keimer, huving 
 bought his materials, succeeded him in the busioess, 
 8 * 
 
90 LIFE OF 
 
 I was apprehensive, at first, of finding in Harry a pow 
 erful competitor, as he was allied to an opulent and 
 respectable family ; I therefore proposed a partner 
 ship, which, happily for me, he rejected with disdain. 
 He was extremely proud, thought himself a fine gen 
 tleman, lived extravagantly, and pursued amusements 
 which suffered him to be scarcely ever at home ; of 
 consequence he became in debt, neglected his busi 
 ness, and business neglected him. Finding in a short 
 time nothing to do in the country, he followed Keimer 
 to Barbadoes, carrying his printing materials w r ith 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 pur 
 chased them employed Keimer to manage the busi 
 ness, but he died a few years after. 
 
 I had now at Philadelphia no competitor but Brad 
 ford, 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 bet 
 ter 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 disadvan 
 tageous to me. Jt was to no purpose that I really 
 procured other papers, and distributed my own, by 
 means of the post ; the publick 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 
 *o illiberal as to forbid them. This treatment of his 
 excited my resentment ; and my disgust was so root- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 31 
 
 ed, 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 math 
 ematics. JVlrs. 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 con 
 tinually 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 my 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 observ 
 ed that it might easily be obtained, by a mortgage on 
 their house. The reply of this was, after a few days 
 interval, that they did not approve of the match ; that 
 they had consulted Bradford, and found that the busi 
 ness of a printer was not lucrative ; that my letters 
 would soon be worn out, and must be supplied by new 
 ones ; that Keimer and Harry had failed, and that, 
 probably, I should do so too. Accordingly they for 
 bade 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 secrectly, which would leave them 
 at liberty to give or not as they pleased. But, sus 
 pecting this motive, I never went again to their house. 
 Some time after Mrs. Godfrey informed me that 
 they were favourably disposed towards me, and wished 
 
n LIFE OF 
 
 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 chang 
 ed 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. Mean 
 while, 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 expense and inconvenience, besides the perpet 
 ual risk of injuring my health, and catching a disease 
 which I dreaded above all things. But I was fortu 
 nate enough to escape this danger. 
 
 As a neighbour and old acquaintance, I 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 myforgetfulness and in 
 constancy, during my abode in London, as the princi 
 pal 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 mar 
 riage previous 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 con 
 sidered indeed, as not being valid, the man having, it 
 was said, a former wife still living in England ; but c 
 
DR. FRANKLIN $.; 
 
 this it was difficult to obtain a proof at so great a dis- 
 rance ; 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 1st of September, 1730. 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 ta 
 vern. W T e held our meetings at the house of Mr. 
 Grace, who appropriated a room to the purpose. 
 Some members observed one day, that as our books 
 were frequently quoted in the course of our discuss 
 ions, it would be convenient to have them collected in 
 the room in which we assembled, in order to be con 
 sulted 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 it 
 he possessed them 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 ex 
 pected ; and though we made considerable use of them, 
 yet some inconveniences resulting, from want of care, 
 it was agreed, after about a year, to destroy the col 
 lection ; 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 pro 
 posals, had them ingrossed in form by Brockden the 
 attorney, and my project succeeded, as will be seei. 
 ?n the sequel **#*#** *;>..* 
 
94 LIFE F 
 
 [The life of Dr. Franklin, as written by himself, so &i 
 as i^ has yet been communicated to the world, breaks off in 
 this place. We have no hesitation in supposing- that eve 
 ry reader will find himself greatly interested by the frank 
 simplicity and the philosophical discernment by which these 
 pages are so eminently characterized. We have there 
 fore thought proper, in order as much as possible to relieve 
 his regret, to subjoin the following 1 continuation, by one of 
 the doctor s intimate friends, Dr. Stubcr,* of Philadelphia.] 
 
 CONTINUATION OF FRANKLIN S LIFE. 
 
 BY DR. STUBER. 
 
 THE promotion of literature had been little attend 
 ed to in Pennsylvania. Most of the inhabitants were 
 too much immersed in business to think of scien- 
 
 * Dr. Stuber was born in Philadelphia, of German parents- 
 He was sent, at an early age, to the university, where his ge 
 nius, diligence, and amiable temper soon acquired him the 
 particular notice and favor 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 tho 
 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, be d?d not 
 think his pursuit well calculated to answer them. He there 
 fore relinquished it, after he had obtained a degree in the pro 
 fession, and qualified himself to practice with credit and suc 
 cess : and immediately entered on the study of Law. In pur 
 suit of the last-mentioned object, he was prematurely arrest 
 ed, before he had an opportunity of reaping the fruits of those 
 talents with which he was endowed, and of a youth spent in 
 the ardent and successful pursuit of useful and elegant litera 
 ture 
 
Ml. FRANKLIN. .5 
 
 tine pursuits ; and those few, whose inclinations led 
 them to study, found it difficult to gratify them, from 
 the want of sufficiently large libraries. In such cir 
 cumstances, the establishment of a public library was 
 an important event. This was first set on foot by 
 Franklin, about the year 1731. Fifty persons sub 
 scribed forty shillings each, and agreed to pay ten 
 shillings annually. The number increased ; and in 
 1742, 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 con 
 siderable accession of books and property. It now 
 contains about 8,000 volumes* on all subjects, a phi 
 losophical apparatus, and a good beginning towards a 
 collection of natural and artificial curiosities, besides 
 landed property of considerable value. The com 
 pany have an elegnnt library-house, corner of Fifth 
 and Liberty streets, in front of which is a marble 
 statue of its founder, Dr. 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. Among the earliest friends of this institu 
 tion 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, re 
 commending books, purchasing and shipping them. 
 Uis 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 uniform 
 ly refused to accept of any compensation. During 
 this time, he communicated to the directors every in- 
 
 * In 1817, it was more than 12 t OOO volume?. Pub, 
 
VO LIFE OF 
 
 formation relative-lo improvements and discovers 
 ihe arts, agriculture, and philosophy. 
 
 The beneficial influence of this institution was soon 
 evident. The cheapness of terms rendered it accessi 
 ble 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, which is very unusual in other 
 places. The example was soon followed. Libraries 
 were established in various places, and they are now 
 become very numerous in the United States, and par 
 ticularly in Pennsylvania. It is to be hoped that they 
 will be still more widely extended, and that informa 
 tion 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 had 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 institu 
 tions calculated to diffuse knowledge amongst the peo 
 ple ; and amongst these, public libraries are not the 
 Jeast important. 
 
 In 1 732, 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 vear, all the maxims were collected in an address 
 to the reader, entitled, The Way to Wealth, 
 has been translated in various languages, and inserted 
 in different publications. It has also been printed on 
 a large sheet, and may be seen in many houses in Phi 
 ladelphia. This address contains, perhaps the best 
 practical system of ceconomy that ever has appeared. 
 It is written in a manner intelligible to every one, and 
 which cannot fail of convincing every reader of the 
 
DR. FRANKLIX. ? 
 
 iusiicc 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, es 
 pecially 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 1736 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 was possessed of some advantages over 
 Franklin, by being post-master, thereby having an op 
 portunity of circulating his paper more extensively, 
 and thus rendering it a better vehicle for advertise 
 ments, &c. Franklin, in his turn, enjoyed these ad 
 vantages, by being appointed post-master of Philadel 
 phia in 1737. 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 suffi 
 ciently 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, 
 
 9 
 
93 LIFE OF 
 
 There is nothing more dangerous to growing cities 
 til an 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 1738, formed the first fire company 
 in this city. This example was soon followed by 
 others ; and there are now numerous fire companies 
 in this city and liberties. To these may be attributed 
 in a great degree the activity of extinguishing fires, 
 for which the citizens of Philadelphia are distinguish 
 ed, and the inconsiderable damage which this city has 
 sustained from this cause. Some time after, Franklin 
 suggested the plan of an association for insuring houses 
 from losses by fire, which was adopted ; and the asso 
 ciation continues to this day. The advantages expe 
 rienced from it have been great. 
 
 From the first establishment of Pennsylvania a spi 
 rit of dispute appears to have prevailed amongst its in 
 habitants. 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 con 
 sent. This subject of dispute interfered in almost 
 every question, and prevented the most salutary laws 
 from being enacted. This at times subjected the peo 
 ple to great inconveniences. In the year 1744, during 
 a war between France and Great Britain, some French 
 and Indians had made inroads upon the frontier inhabi 
 tants of the province, who were unprovided for such 
 an attack. It became necessary that the citizens 
 should arm for their defence. Governor Thomas re 
 commended to the assembly, who were then sitting, 
 to pass a militia law. To this they would agree only 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. W 
 
 \ipon condition that he should give his assent to certaiy 
 laws, which appeared to them calculated to promote 
 the interest 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 law. The situation of the province 
 was at this time truly alarming : exposed to the con 
 tinual inroads 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 of it were circulated throughout the pro 
 vince, and in a short time the number of signers amount 
 ed to ten thousand. Franklin was chosen colonel of 
 the Philadelphia regiment, but he did not think proper 
 to accept of the honor. 
 
 Pursuits of a different nature now occupied the 
 greatest part of his attention for some years. He en 
 gaged 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 men 
 tioned by Theophrastus and Pliny, and, from them, 
 by later naturalists. In the year 1600, Gilbert, an 
 English physician, enlarged considerably the catalogue 
 of substances which have the property of attracting 
 light bodies. Boyle, Otto Guericke, a burgomaster 
 of Magdeburg, celebrated as the inventor of the 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 1709, Hawkesbec communicated some important 
 observations and experiments to the world. For sev 
 eral years electricity was entirely neglected, until Mr. 
 Gray applied himself to it, in 1728, with great assi- 
 
WH* LIFE OF 
 
 duity. He, and his friend Mr. Wheeler, made a great 
 variety of experiments ; in which they demonstrated, 
 that electricity may be communicated from one hody 
 to another, even without being in contact, and in this 
 way may be conducted to a great distance. Mr. Gray 
 afterwards found, that, by suspending rofls of iron by 
 silk or hair line*, and bringing an excited tube under 
 them, sparks might be drawn, and a light perceived 
 at the extremities in the dark. M. Du Faye, inten- 
 dant 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 pro 
 duced by rubbing glass, the latter from excited sul 
 phur, sealing-wax, &c. But this idea he afterwards 
 gave up as erroneous. Between the years 1739 and 
 3742, Defaguliers -made a number of experiments, 
 but added little of importance. He first used the 
 terms conductors and electrics, per sc. In 1 742, seve 
 ral ingenious Germans engaged in the subject. Of 
 these the principal were, professor Boze of Wittem- 
 bergh, professor Winkler of Leipsic, Gordon, a Scotch 
 Benedictine monk, professor of philosophy at Erfurt, 
 and Dr. Ludolf of Berlin. The result of their re 
 searches astonished the philosophers of Europe. 
 Their apparatus was large, and by means of it they 
 were enabled to collect large quantities of electricity, 
 and thus to produce phenomena which had been hith 
 erto unobserved. They killed small birds, and set 
 spirits on fire. Their experiments excited the curi 
 osity of other philosophers. Collinson, about the year 
 1745, sent to the library company of Philadelphia an 
 account of these experiments, together with a tube, 
 and directions how to use it. Franklin, with some of 
 his friends, immediately engaged in a course of ex 
 periments ; the result of which is well known. He 
 was enabled to make a number of importnnt discove 
 ries, and to propose theories to account for variou- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 101 
 
 phenomena ; which have been universally adopted, 
 and which bid fair to endure for ages. His observa 
 tions he communicated, in a series of letters, to his 
 friend Collinson ; the first of which is dated March 
 28, 1747. In these he makes known the power of 
 points in drawing and throwing off the electrical mat 
 ter, which had hitherto escaped the notice & electri 
 cians. He also made the grand discovery of a plus 
 and minus, or of a positive and negative state of electri 
 city. We gave him the honor of this, without hesita 
 tion, although the English have claimed it for their 
 countryman, Dr. Watson. Watson s paper is dated 
 January 21, 1748 ; Franklin s July 11, 1747; several 
 months prior. Shortly after, Franklin, from his prin 
 ciples of plus and minus state, explained, in a satisfac 
 tory manner, the phenomena of the Leyden phial, 
 first observed by Mr. Cuneus, or by professor Mus- 
 chenbroeck of Leyden, which had much perplexed 
 philosophers. He shewed clearly that the bottle, 
 when charged, contained no more electricity than be 
 fore, but that as much was taken from the one side 
 as was thrown on the other ; and that, to discharge it, 
 nothing was necessary but to make 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 experi 
 ments, that the electricity did not reside in the coat 
 ing, 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 coat 
 ing the shock might still be received. In the year 
 1749, he first suggested his idea of explaining the 
 phenomena of thunder gusts, and of the aurora bore- 
 alis, upon electrical principles. He points out many 
 particulars in which lightning and electricity agree ; 
 and he adduces many facts, and reasoning from facts, 
 in support of his positions. In the same year he con 
 ceived the astonishingly bold and grand idea of ascer- 
 9 * 
 
102 LIFE OF 
 
 taining the truth of his doctrine, by actually drawing 
 down the forked 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 man 
 kind displays itself in a powerful manner. Admitting 
 the identity of electricity and lightning, and knowing 
 the power of points in repelling bodies charged with 
 electricity, and in conducting their fire silently and 
 imperceptibly, he suggests the idea of securing houses, 
 ships, &LC. from being damaged by lightning, by erect 
 ing pointed iron rods, which should rise some feet 
 above the most elevated part, and descend some feet 
 into the ground or the water. The effect of these, he 
 concluded, would be either to prevent a stroke by re 
 pelling 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 con 
 duct the stroke to the earth, without any injury to the 
 building. 
 
 It was not until the summer of 1752, that he. was 
 enabled to complete his grand and unparalleled dis 
 covery 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 aportion of their 
 electricity, which would be rendered evident to the 
 senses by sparks being emitted, when a key, a knuckle, 
 or other conductor, was presented to it. Philadelphia 
 at this time afforded no opportunity of trying an ex 
 periment of this kind. Whilst 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 at 
 taching two cross sticks to a silk handkerchief, which 
 would not suffer so much from the rain as paper, 
 his upright stick was affixed an iron point. The string 
 
DR, FRANKLIN. 103 
 
 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 ap 
 pearance of a thunder-gust approaching, he went 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 shed to avoid the rain. His 
 kite was raised. A thunder cloud passed over it. No 
 signs 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 amongst those who have 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 projec 
 tor. The anxiety with which he looked for the result 
 of his experiment, may easily be 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 
 Frenchmen had completed the discovery, in the man 
 ner originally proposed by Dr. Franklin. The letters 
 which he sent to Mr. Collinson, it is said, were refu 
 sed a place amongst the papers of the Royal Society 
 of London. However this may be, Collinson publish 
 ed them in a separate volume, under the title of New 
 Experiments and Observations on Electricity, made at 
 Philadelphia, in America. They were read with avi- 
 
W4 LIFE OF 
 
 dity, and soon translated into different languages. A 
 ?ery incorrect French translation fell into the hands 
 of the celebrated Buffon, who notwithstanding the dis 
 advantages under which the work labored, was much 
 pleased with it, and repeated the experiments with 
 success. He prevailed upon his friend, M. D Alibard, 
 to give his countrymen a more correct translation of 
 the work of the American electrician. This contribu 
 ted 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 spec 
 tator of them. A course of experiments was given at 
 the seat of the Due D Aven, 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 appara 
 tus on the tower of Montbar, M. D Alibard at Mary- 
 la- ville, and De Lor at his house in the Etr apade at 
 Paris, some of the highest ground in that capital. 
 D Alibard s machine first shewed signs of electricity. 
 On the 10th of May, 1752, a thunder-cloud passed 
 over it, in the absence of M. D Alibard, and a num 
 ber of sparks were drawn from it by Coiffier, a joiner, 
 with whom D Alibard had left directions how to pro 
 ceed, and by M. Raulet, the prior of Mary-la- ville. 
 An account of this experiment was given to the Royal 
 Academy of Sciences, in a memoir by M. D Alibard, 
 dated May 13th, 1752. On the 18th of May, M. De 
 Lor proved equally successful with the apparatus 
 erected at his own house. These discoveries soon 
 excited the philosophers of other parts of Europe to 
 repeat the experiment. Amongst, these none signal 
 ized 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, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 105 
 
 when aft unfortunate flash from his rod put a period to 
 his existence. The friends of science will long re 
 member with regret the amiable martyr to electri 
 city. 
 
 By these experiments Franklin s theory was estab 
 lished in the most firm manner. When the truth of 
 it could no longer be doubted, the vanity of men en 
 deavored to detract from its merit. That an Ameri 
 can, 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 somebody else. 
 An American, a being of inferior order, make discov 
 eries ! Impossible. It was said, that the Abbe Nollet, 
 in 1748, had suggested the idea of the similarity of 
 lightning and electricity, in his Lecons de Physique. 
 It is true, that the Abbe mentions the idea, but he 
 throws it out as a bare conjecture, and proposes no 
 mode of ascertaining the truth of it. He himself ac 
 knowledges, that Franklin first entertained the bold 
 thought of bringing lightning from the heavens, by 
 means of pointed rods fixed in the air. The similar 
 ity of electricity and lightning 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. Gray, while 
 the science was in its infancy. But the honor of form 
 ing 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 his theory upon a firm and solid basis, is 
 incontestibly due to Franklin. D Alibard, who made 
 the experiments in France, says, that he only follow- 
 ed the track which Franklin had pointed out. 
 
 It has been of late asserted, that the honor of com 
 pleting the experiment with the electrical kite, does 
 
iOC LIFE OF 
 
 n ot belong to Franklin. Some late English paragraphs 
 have attributed it to some Frenchman, whose name 
 they do not mention ; and the Abbe Bertholon gives 
 it to M. De Romas, assessor to the presideal of Ne- 
 rac ; the English paragraphs probably refer to the 
 same person. But a very slight attention will con 
 vince us of the injustice of this procedure ; Dr. Frank 
 lin s experiment was made in June 1 752 ; and his let 
 ter, giving an account of it, is dated October 19, 1752, 
 M. De Romas made his first attempt on the 14th of 
 May 1753, but was not successful until the 7th of 
 June ; a year after Franklin had completed the dis 
 covery, 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, to wards reducing this branch 
 of knowledge to a science. His friend, Mr. Kinner- 
 sley, communicated to him a discovery of the different 
 kinds of electricity excited by rubbing glass and sul 
 phur. 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 phenom 
 ena, rather from a difference in the quantity of eletcri- 
 city 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 neg- 
 itive states which he had before observed ; that the 
 glass globe charged positively, or increased the quan 
 tity of electricity on the prime conductor, whilst the 
 globe of sulphur diminished its natural quantity, or 
 charged negatively. These experiments and obser 
 vations opened a new field for investigation, upon 
 which electricians entered with avidity ; and their la 
 bours havp added much to the stock of our knowledge. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 1(W 
 
 la September, 1752, Franklin entered upon a course, 
 of experiments, to determine the state of electricity in 
 the clouds. From a number of experiments lie form 
 ed this conclusion: "that the clouds of a thunder- 
 gust are most commonly in a negative state of electri 
 city, but sometimes in a positive st;ite ;" 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 observa 
 tions is dated in September, 1753; and yet the discov 
 ery of ascending thunder has been said to be of a mod 
 ern date, and has been attributed to the Abbe Bartho- 
 lon, who published his memoir on the subject in 1776. 
 
 Franklin s letters have been translated into mosl of 
 the European languages, and into Latin. In propor 
 tion as they have become known, his principles have 
 been adopted. Some opposition was made to his 
 theories, particularly by the Abbe Nollet, who was, 
 however, but feebly supported ; whilst the first philo 
 sophers of Europe stepped forth in defence of Frank 
 lin s principles ; among whom D Alibard and Becca- 
 ria were the most distinguished. The opposition has 
 gradually ceased, and the Franklini;m 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 intro 
 duction into Europe, notwithstanding the most un 
 doubted proofs of their utility have been given. But 
 mankind can with difficulty be brought to lay aside 
 established practices, or to adopt new ones. And 
 perhaps we have more reason to be surprised that a 
 practice, however rational, which was proposed about 
 forty years ago should in that time have been adopted 
 in so many places, than that it has not universally pre- 
 
103 LIFE OF 
 
 vailed. It is only by degrees {hat the great bedy of 
 mankind can be led into new practices, however salu 
 tary their tendency. It is new nearly eighty years 
 since inoculation was introduced into Europe and 
 America ; and it is so far from being general at pre 
 sent, that it will, perhaps, require one or two centuries 
 to render it so. 
 
 In the year 1745, Franklin published an account 
 of his new invented Pennsylvania fire places, in which 
 he minutely and accurately states the advantages and 
 disadvantages of different kinds of fire-places ; and 
 endeavors to shew that the one wkich 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, particu 
 larly 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 consequen 
 ces of which are colds, tooth-aches, &c. 
 
 Although philosophy was a principal object of 
 Franklin s pursuit for several years, he confined him 
 self not to this. In the year 1 747, he became a mem 
 ber of the general assembly of Pennsylvania, as a 
 burgess for tiie city of Philadelphia. Warm disputes 
 at this time subsisted between the assembly and the 
 proprietaries ; each contending for what they conceiv 
 ed 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 attribu 
 te d 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 supe- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 109 
 
 nor powers of eloquence ; he spoke but seldom, and 
 tie never was known to make any thing like an elabo 
 rate harangue. His speeches often consisted of a sin 
 gle 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, 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 supporiing the 
 rights of the people. He wished to render them per- 
 utly secure, which can only be done by making 
 their value properly known ; and this must depend 
 upon encreasing and extending information to every 
 M is of men. We b-ive already seen that he was the 
 fo Mi !er of the public library, which contributed great 
 ly towards improving the minds of the citizens. But 
 th- : s w;<s not sufficient. The schools trien subsisting 
 u r ere in general of little utility. The teachers were 
 men ill .nullified for the important duty which they 
 h id undertaken ; and, after all, nothing more could 
 be obtained than the rudiments of a common English 
 ftdiKvition. Franklin drew up a plan of an Academy 
 to be erected in the city of Philadelphia, suited to 
 c 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 necessa 
 ry. 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 
 10 
 
110 LIFE OF 
 
 tip and signed on the 13th of November 1749. IL 
 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 Hopkin- 
 son, Esq. 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 honor of our city, 
 we hope that it continues to be in force. 
 
 " In case of the inability of the rector, or any mas 
 ter, (established on the foundation by receiving a cer 
 tain 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 express* 
 ed in language so tender and benevolent, so truly pa 
 rental that it will do everlasting honor 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 bu 
 siness, to visit the academy often ; to encourage and 
 countenance the youth, countenance and assist the 
 masters, and by all means in their power advance the 
 usefulness and reputation of the design ; that they 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 zeal- 
 cusly unite, and make alLthe interest that can be made, 
 to promote and establish them, whether in business , 
 offices, marriages, or any other thing for their advan 
 tage, preferable to all other persons whatsoever, CTCB 
 of equal merit." 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. Ill 
 
 The constitutions being signed and made public, 
 with the names of the gentlemen proposing them 
 selves as trustees and founders, the design was so well 
 approved of by the public spirited citizens of Philadel 
 phia, that the sum of eight hundred pounds per an 
 num, for five years, was in the course of a few weeks 
 subscribed for carrying the plan into execution ; and 
 in the beginning of January following, (viz. 1750) 
 three of the schools were opened, namely, the Latin 
 and Greek schools, the Mathematical, and the English 
 schools. 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. Frank 
 lin ; 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 par 
 ticular study, by means of his extensive correspon 
 dence abroad, to advance the reputation of the semina 
 ry, and to draw students and scholars to it from differ 
 ent 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 13, 
 1753, was obtained from the honorable proprietors of 
 
112 LIFE OP 
 
 Pennsylvania, Thomas Penn and Richard Perm, 
 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 im 
 portance 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 
 f 1 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. Frank 
 lin 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 acad 
 emy, was without his approbation or agency, and gave 
 him discontent. If the reverse of this does not al 
 ready 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 havingbeensentto Dr. Frank 
 lin for his opinion, gave rise to that correspondence 
 which terminated, about a year afterwards, in erect 
 ing 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-i> 
 years, to preside with distinguished reputation 
 
DR. FRANKClN. 113 
 
 From these letters also the state of the academy, 
 at that time, will be seen. 
 
 Philadelphia, April 19, 1753. 
 SIR, 
 
 I received your favor of the llth instant, with your 
 new* piece on Education which I shall carefully pe 
 ruse, 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 edu 
 cated 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 Eng 
 lish library is a good one ; and we have belonging to 
 it a middling apparatus for experimental philosophy, 
 and purpose speedily to complete it. The Loganian 
 library, one of the best collections in America, will 
 shortly be opened ; so that neither books nor instru 
 ments will be wanting ; and as we are determined al 
 ways 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 
 
 * A general idea of the college of Marania. 
 
 t The Rev. and learned Mr. Francis Alison, afterwards 
 D. D. and Vice-Provost of the College. 
 
 t Mr. Theophilus Grew, afterwards Professor of Mathema 
 tics in the College. 
 
 $ Those assistants were at that time Mr. Charles Thomp 
 son, late Secretary of Congress, Mr. Paul Jackson, and Mr. 
 T acob Duche. 
 
 10 * 
 
114 LIFE OF 
 
 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 be 
 fore you return to Europe, I shall be extremely glad 
 to see and converse with you here, as well as to cor 
 respond with you after your settlement in England ; 
 for an acquaintance arid communication with men of 
 learning, virtue, and public spirit, is one of my great 
 est enjoyment. 
 
 I do not know whether you ever happened to see 
 the first proposals I made for erecting the Acadamy. 
 I send them enclosed. 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. 
 
 Philadelphia May 3, 1753. 
 
 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 
 inypart, I know not when I have read apiece that has 
 
 * The name given to the principal or head of the ideal col 
 lege, the system of education in which hath nevertheless beer 
 nearly realized, or followed as a model, in the college ana 
 academy of Philadelphia, and some other American, semu 
 Ties, for many years past, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 115 
 
 more affected me so noble and just are the senti 
 ments, 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 quo 
 tation from the Review,* which you are now justly 
 dissatisfied with, but those expressions of resentment 
 against your adversaries, in pages 65 and 79. 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 com 
 pliments to you, and to assure you that you will be 
 very welcome to him. 1 shall only say, that you may 
 depend on iny doing all in my power to make your 
 visit to Philadelphia agreeable to you. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Mr. Smith. 
 
 Philadelphia, November 27 , 1753. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Having written you -fully, via Bristol, I have now 
 little to add. Matte rs/f dating to the Academy re 
 main in statu quo. The trustees would be glad to see. 
 a rector established there,, but they dread entering into 
 new engagements till they &re 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 
 
 * The quotation alluded to (from the London Monthly Re 
 view for 1749,) was judged to reflect too severely on the dis 
 cipline and government of the English universities of Oxford 
 and Cambridge, and was expunged from the following edi 
 tions of this work. 
 
116 LIFE 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 suc 
 cess. 
 
 My son presents his affectionate regards, with, dear- 
 sir, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 P. S. I have not been favoured with a line from yon 
 since your arrival in England. 
 
 Philadelphia, April 18, 1754. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I have had but one letter from you since your ar 
 rival in England, which was a short one, via Boston, 
 dated October 18th, acquainting me that you had writ 
 ten largely by captain Davis Davis was lost, and with 
 him your letters, to my gre: t disappointment. Mes- 
 nard 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, Capt. 
 
 * Upon the application of archbishop Herring, and P. Col- 
 iinson, Esq. at Dr. Franklin s request, (aided by the letters of 
 Mr. Allen and Mr. Peters) the Hon. Thomas Penn, Esq. sub 
 scribed an annual sum, and afterwards gave at least 50QO/,. 
 *o the founding or engrafting the College upon the Academy. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 117 
 
 Sudden s ship, which is daily expected, I only add, 
 .hat I am, with great esteem and affection, 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 Mr. Smith. 
 
 About a month after the date of this last letter, the 
 gentleman to whom it was addressed arrived in Phila 
 delphia, 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 addi 
 tional charter, dated May 27th, 1755. 
 
 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 remain 
 der of his life, (as will appear in our subsequent ac 
 count of the same,) he had but few opportunities of 
 taking any further active part in the affairs of the sem 
 inary, until his final return in the year 1785, 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 among 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 as 
 sembled his old colleagues at his own house, and bein- 
 chosen their president, all their future meetings were, 
 at his request, held there, till within a fe.w 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, 
 
UB LIFE OF 
 
 Franklin not only gave birth to many useful institu 
 tions himself, but he was also instrumental in promo 
 ting those which had originated with other men. 
 About the year 1752, 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 sub 
 scriptions 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 ad 
 vantageous influence of the proposed institution in his 
 paper. These efforts were attended with success. 
 Considerable sums were subscribed : but they were 
 r^till 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 sup 
 posed 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 sta 
 ted in the bill, and were soon successful. This was 
 the foundation of the Pennsylvania Hospital, which, 
 with the Bettering-house and Dispensary, bears ample 
 testimony of the humanity of the citizens of Phila 
 delphia. 
 
 Dr. Franklin had conducted himself so well 
 office of post-master, and had shown himself to b 
 well acquainted with the business of that departme 
 that it was thought expedient to raise him to a more 
 dignified station. In 1553 he was appointed I depiH 
 postmaster-general for the British colonies, he prc 
 
DR. FRANKLIN 1.1.9 
 
 Sts arising from the postage of letters, formed no in- 
 considerable part of the revenue, which the crown of 
 Great Britain derived from the 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 de 
 predations 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 neighbors, who 
 partook equally with themselves of the advantages, 
 contributing nothing to the expense. 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 Pennsylva 
 nia in 1745. 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 
 1754, commissioners from New-Hampshire, Massa 
 chusetts, Rhode-Island, New-Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
 and Maryland, met at Albany. Dr. Franklin attended 
 here, as a commissioner from Pennsylvania, and pro 
 duced 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 ge 
 neral government, to be administered by a president- 
 general, appointed by the crown, and by a grand- 
 council, consisting of members chosen by the repre 
 sentatives of the different colonies ; their number to 
 be in direct proportion to the sums paid by each colo 
 ny 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 po\rer 
 
120 LIFE OF 
 
 of legislation was lodged in the grand-council and pre 
 sident-general jointly ; his consent being made neces 
 sary to passing a bill into a law. The powers vested 
 in the president and council were, 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 in sepa. 
 rate governments, and to raise troops, build forts, fit 
 out armed vessels, and use other means for the gene 
 ral 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 un 
 less disapproved of within three years, were to re 
 main in force. All officers in the land or sea service 
 were to be nominated by the president-general, and ap 
 proved of by the general council ; civil officers were 
 to be nominated by the council, and approved by the 
 president. Such are the outlines of the plan propos 
 ed for the consideration of the congress, by Dr. Frank 
 lin. 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 re 
 jection, 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 lime. 
 It appears to have steered exactly in the middle, be 
 tween the opposite interests of both. 
 
BR. FRANKLIN. 121 
 
 Whether the adoption of this plan would have pre 
 sented the separation of America from Great Britain, 
 is a question which might afford much room for spe 
 culation. It may be said, that, by enabling the co 
 lonies 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 foun 
 dation for the separation of the two countries. But, on 
 the other hand, it must be Admitted, that the restric 
 tion hid by Great Britain upon our commerce, oblig 
 ing us to sell our produce to her citizens only, and to 
 take from them various articles, of which, as our manu 
 factures were discouraged, we stood in need, at a price- 
 greater than that for which they could have been ob 
 tained from other nations, m<<st inevitably produce 
 dissatisfaction, even though no duties were impose^ by 
 the parliament ; a circumstance which might still h:ive 
 taken pi ice. 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 com 
 munity, which had the most remote tendency to injure 
 the interests of his sovereign. Even should they re 
 ceive 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 disagree 
 ments 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 ur 
 gent in their demands, until, at length, they would 
 shake off the yoke, and declare themselves indepen 
 dent. 
 
 Whilst the French were in possession of Canada, 
 their trade with tfee natives extended very far. even t* 
 11 
 
l2 LIFE O* 
 
 the back of the British settlements. They were dis 
 posed, from time to time, to establish posts within the 
 territory which the British claimed us their own. In 
 dependent of the injury to the fur trade, which was 
 considerable, the colonies suffered this further incon 
 venience, that the Indians were frequently instigated 
 to commit depredations on their frontiers. In the 
 year 1753, encroachments were made upon the boun 
 daries of Virginia. Remonstrances had no effect. In 
 the ensuing year, a body of men was 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 stongly as time and cir 
 cumstances would -idmit. A superiority of numbers 
 soon obliged him to surrender Fort Necessity. 
 obtained honorable terms for himself and men, and 
 returned to Virginia. The government of Great Bri 
 tain now thought it necessary to interfere. In the year 
 1755 General Braddock, with some regiments of reg 
 ular troops, and provincial levies, was sent t( dispos 
 sess the French of the posts upon which they had 
 ^eized. After the men were all ready, a difficulty 
 "occurred, which had nearly prevented the expedition. 
 This was the want of wagons. Frmkhnnow stepped 
 forward, and with the assistance of his son, in a lit 
 time procured a hundred and fifty . Braddock unfortu 
 nately fell into an ambuscade, and perished v 
 number of his men. Washington who had a 
 panied him us an aid-de-camp, and had warned him 
 vain, of his danger, now displayed great military 
 talents in effecting a retreat of the remains the 
 army, and in forming a junction with the real , under 
 CoLDunbar, upon whom the chief command nov 
 
DR. FRANKLIN, 123 
 
 devolved. With some difficulty they brought their 
 little body to a place of safety ; but they found it ne 
 cessary to destroy their waggons and baggage, to pre 
 vent their 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 intentions of obliging him to make a restitution 
 of their property. Had they put their threats into 
 execution, ruin must inevitably have been the conse 
 quence. Governor Shirley, finding that he had in 
 curred these debts for the service of government, 
 made arrangements to have them discharged, and re 
 leased 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 adop 
 tion 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 whr:h 
 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 
 objections 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 1200 
 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 business. A power of raising men 
 and of appointing officers to command them, was vest 
 ed in him. He soon levied a body of troops, with 
 which he repaired to the place at which their presence 
 
124 LIFE OF 
 
 was necessary. Here he built a fort, and placed thtf 
 garrison in such a posture of defence, as would enable 
 them to withstand the inroads, to which the inhabi 
 tants had previously been exposed. He remained 
 here for some time, in order the more completely ttf 
 discharge the trust committed to him. Some business 
 f importance rendered his presence necessary in the 
 assembly, and he returned to Philadelphia. 
 
 The defence of her colonies was a great expense 
 to Great Britain. The most effectual mode of lessen 
 ing this was, to put arms into the hands of the inhabi 
 tants, and to teach them their use. But England wish 
 ed not that the Americans should become acquainted 
 with their own strength. She was apprehensive, 
 that, as soon as this period arrived, they would no long 
 er submit to that monopoly of their trade, which to 
 them was highly injurious, but extremely advanta 
 geous to the mother country. In comparison with the 
 profits of this, the expense of maintaining armies and 
 fleets to defend them w r as trifling. She sought tojkeep 
 them dependent upon her for protection, the best plan 
 which could be devised for retaining them in peacea 
 ble subjection. The least appearance of a military 
 spirit was therefore to be guarded against, and, al 
 though a war then raged, the act 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 peo 
 ple 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 to give their assent to 
 this measure, without which no bill could pass into a 
 law. Enraged at the obstinacy, and what they coa- 
 
DR, FRANKLIN. 12i 
 
 reived to be unjust proceedings of their opponents, 
 the assembly at length determined to apply to the mo 
 ther country for relief. A petition was addressed to 
 the King in council, stating the inconveniences under 
 which the inhabitants laboured, from the attention of 
 the proprietaries to their private interests, to the neg 
 lect of the general welfare of the community, and 
 praying for redress. Franklin was appointed to pre 
 sent this address, as agent for the province of Penn 
 sylvania, and departed from America in June 1757. 
 In conformity to the instructions which he had receiv 
 ed from the legislature, he held a conference with the 
 proprietaries, who then resided in England, and en 
 deavoured to prevail upon them to give up the long- 
 contested point. Finding that they would hearken to 
 no terms of accommodation, he laid his petition before 
 the council. During this time Gov. Denny assented to 
 a law imposing a tax, in which no discrimination was 
 made in favour of the Penn family. They, alarmed at 
 this intelligence, and Franklin s exertions, used their 
 utmost exertions to prevent the royal sanction being 
 given to this law, which they represented as highly- 
 iniquitous, designed to throw the burden of support 
 ing government on them, and calculated to produce 
 the most ruinous consequences to them and their pos 
 terity. The cause was amply discussed before the 
 privy council. The Penns found here some strenu 
 ous 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 Frank 
 lin 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 restor 
 ed to the province. 
 
 The mode in which this dispute was terminated is 
 $ striking proof of the high opinion entertained of 
 
126 LIFE OF 
 
 Franklin s integrity and honor, 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 expenses of supporting government. 
 
 After the completion of this important business, 
 Franklin remained at the court of Great Britain, as 
 agent for the province of Pennsylvania. The exten 
 sive knowledge which he possessed of the situation of 
 the colonies, and the regard which he always mani 
 fested for their interests, occasioned his appointment 
 to the same office by the colonies of Massachusetts, 
 Maryland, and Georgia. His conduct, in this situa 
 tion, was such as rendered him still more dear to his 
 countrymen. 
 
 He had now an opportunity of indulging in the so 
 ciety 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 confer 
 red upon him. The Royal Society of London, which 
 had at first refused his performances admission into its 
 transactions, now thought it an honour to rank him 
 among its fellows. Other societies of Europe were 
 equally ambitious of calling him a member. The 
 university of St. Andrew s in Scotland, conferred upon 
 him the degree of Doctor of Laws. Its example was 
 followed by the Universities of Edinburgh and of Ox 
 ford. His correspondence was sought for by the most 
 eminent Philosophers of Europe. His letters to these 
 abound with true science, delivered in the most sim 
 ple unadorned manner. 
 
 The province of Canada was at this time in the po< 
 session of the French, who had originally settled i 
 The trade with the Indians, for whichits situation was 
 
PR. FRANKLIN. 127 
 
 very convenient, was exceedingly lucrative. The 
 French traders here found n market for their commo 
 dities, 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 ad 
 vantageous to France, it was a grievous inconvenience 
 to the inhabitants of the British colonies. The In 
 dians were almost generally desirous to cultivate the 
 friendship of the French, by whom they were abun 
 dantly supplied with arms and ammunition. When 
 ever 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 un 
 derstood in England. Franklin about this time pub 
 lished his Canada pamphlet, in which he, in a very 
 forcible manner, pointed out the advantages which 
 would result from the conquest of this province. 
 
 An expedition against it was planned, and the com 
 mand given to General Wolfe. His success is well 
 known. At the treaty in 1762, France ceded Canada 
 to Great Britain, and by her cession of Louisiania, at 
 the same time relinquished all her possessions on the 
 continent of America. 
 
 Although Dr. Franklin was now principally occu 
 pied with political pursuits, he found time for philoso 
 phical studies. He extended his electrical researches, 
 and made a variety of experiments, particularly on the 
 tourmalin. The singular properties which this stone 
 possesses of being electrified on one side positively, 
 and on the other negatively, by heat alone, without 
 friction, had been but lately observed. 
 
 Some experiments on the cold produced by evapo 
 ration, made by Dr. Cullen, had been communicated 
 to Dr. Franklin, by Professor Simpson of Glasgow. 
 These he repeated, and found, that, by the evaporation 
 
128 LIFE OF 
 
 of ether 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 discove 
 ry he applied to the solution of a number of pheno 
 mena, 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 96 degrees of Farenheit s thermometer, al 
 though the atmosphere which surrounds it, may be 
 heated to a much greater degree. This he attributed 
 to the increased perspiration, and consequent evapo 
 ration produced by the heat. 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Small of London, dated in May 
 1760, Dr. Franklin makes a number of observations y 
 tending to shew that, in North America, north-east 
 .storms begin in the south-west parts. It appears, 
 from actual observation, that a north-east storm, which 
 extended a considerable distance, commenced at Phi 
 ladelphia nearly 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 being 
 cooler rushes in, and is succeeded by the cooler and 
 denser air still further north, and that thus a continu 
 ed current is at length produced. 
 
 The tone produced by rubbing the brim of a drink 
 ing glass with a vfet 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 form 
 ed that elegant instrument which he has called the 
 Jbrmonica. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN, 129 
 
 in the summer of 1762 he returned to America. 
 On his passage he observed the singular effect produc 
 ed 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 ut 
 most 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 arid important services done to America in gen 
 eral, during his residence in Great Britain." A com 
 pensation of 50001. 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 Pennsyl 
 vania he again took his seat in this body, and continu 
 ed a steady defender of the liberties of the people. 
 
 In December 1762, a circumstance which caused 
 great alarm in the province took place. A number of 
 Indians had resided in the county of Lancaster, and 
 conducted themselves uniformly as friends to the white 
 inhabitants. Repeated depredations on the frontiers 
 had exasperated the inhabitants to such a degree, that 
 they determined on revenge upon every Indian. A 
 number of persons, amounting to 120, principally in 
 habitants of Donnegal and Peckstang or Paxton town 
 ships, in the county of York, assembled ; and, mount 
 ed on horseback, proceeded to the settlement of these 
 harmless and defenceless Indians, whose number was 
 now reduced to about twenty. The Indians received 
 intelligence of the attack which was intended against 
 them, but disbelieved it. Considering the white peo 
 ple as their friends, they apprehended no danger from 
 them. When the party arrived at the Indian settle - 
 ment, 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 
 
:^0 LIFE OF 
 
 the chief Shahaes, who had been always distinguished 
 tor 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 se 
 curity. The governor issued a proclamation, expres 
 sing the strongest disapprobation of the action, offer 
 ing 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 secu 
 rity. Another proclamation was issued, but had no 
 Affect. A detachment marched down to Philadelphia, 
 tor 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 fight 
 ing, 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 in 
 fluence enough to prevail upon them to relinquish their 
 undertaking, and return to their homes. 
 
 The disputes between the proprietaries and the as 
 sembly, which, for a time, had subsided, were again 
 revived. The proprietaries were dissatisfied with the 
 concessions made in favor of the people, and made 
 great struggles to recover the privilege of exempting 
 their estates from taxation, which they had been indu 
 ced to give up. 
 
 In 1763 the assembly passed a militia bill, to which 
 rhe governor refused to give his assent, unless the as 
 sembly would agree to certain amendments which he 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 13} 
 
 proposed. These consisted in increasing the fines, 
 and, in some cases, substituting death for fines. He 
 wished too that the officers should be appointed alto 
 gether by himself, and not be nominated by the peo 
 ple, as the bill had proposed. These amendments the 
 assembly considered as inconsistent with the spirit of 
 liberty. They would not adopt them ; the governor 
 was obstinate, and the bill was lost. 
 
 These, and various other circumstances, increased 
 the uneasiness which subsisted between the proprieta 
 ries and the assembly, to such a degree, that, in 1764, 
 a petition to the king was agreed to by the house, pray 
 ing an alt oration from a proprietary to a regal govern 
 ment. Great opposition was made to this measure, 
 not only in the house but in the public prim s. A 
 speech of Mr. Dkkenson, on the subject, was pub 
 lished, with a prefice by Dr. Smith, in which ^rcat 
 pains were taken to shew the impropriety and impolicy 
 of this proceeding. A speech of Mr. G dloway, in re 
 ply to Mr. Dickenson was published, accompanied 
 with a preface by Dr. Franklin ; in which he bly 
 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 stili continued. 
 
 At the election for a new assembly, in the fall of 
 1764, the friends of the proprietaries made great ex 
 ertions to exclude those of the adverse party, and ob 
 tained a small majority in the City of Philadelphia. 
 FrankKn now lost his seat in the house, which he had 
 held for fourteen years. On the meeting of the assem 
 bly, it -appeared that there was still a decided majority 
 of Franklin s friends. He was immediately appointed 
 provincial agent, to the great chagrin of his enei.ves, 
 wLo made a solemn protest against his appciunvent ; 
 which was refused admission upon the. ninua^. ->s 
 being unprecedented. It was, however, published in 
 
LIFE OF 
 
 the papers, and produced a spirited reply from him. 
 ;*ust before his departure for England. 
 
 The disturbances produced in America by Mr. 
 Crenville s stamp act, and the opposition made to it 
 are well known. Under the marquis of Rockingharn 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 peo 
 ple to submit to it, Dr. Franklin was called to the bar 
 pf the ho-.ise of commons. The examination which 
 he iM C u- lerwent w :S published, and contains a stri 
 k proof of the extant and accuracy of his informa- 
 ti, , iae facility with which he communicated his 
 se ! ,IK vats. He represented facts in so strong a point 
 x>f /lew, that the inexpediency of the act must have 
 ai reared cle^r to every unprejudiced mind. The act 
 after some opposition, was repealed, about a year after 
 it w is enacted, and before it had ever been carried 
 into execution. 
 
 In the year 1766, he made a visit to Holland -;nd 
 Germany, and received the greatest marks of attention 
 from men of science. In his passage through Holit nd, 
 he learned from the watermen the effect which a diinu- 
 riition of the quantity of water in canals has, in imped 
 ing the progress of boats. Upon his return to Eng 
 land, 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 commu 
 nicated in a letter to his friend, Sir John 1 ringle, 
 which is contained in the volume of his philosophical 
 pieces. 
 
 In the following year he travelled into France, 
 where he met with no less favourable reception 
 he had experienced in Germany. He was introduce 
 to a number of literary characters, and to the King, 
 Louis XV. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 133 
 
 Several letters written by Hutchinson, Oliver, and 
 ethers, to persons in eminent stations in Great Britain, 
 came into the hands of Dr. Franklin. 
 
 These contained the most violent invectives against 
 the leading characters of the state of Massachusetts, 
 and strenuously advised the prosecution of vigorous 
 measures, to compel the people to obedience to the 
 measures of the ministry. These he transmitted to 
 the legislature, by whom they were published. At 
 tested 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 shewn themselves so un 
 friendly 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 
 further disputes on this subject, Dr. Franklin, in one 
 of the public papers, declared that he had sent tuem 
 to America, but would give no inform ;tion concerning 
 the manner in which he had obtained them ; nor w^as 
 this ever discovered. 
 
 Shortly after, the petition of the Massachusetts as 
 sembly was taken up for examination before the privy 
 council. Dr. Franklin attended, as agent for the as 
 sembly ; and here a torrent of the most violent aid 
 unwarranted abuse was poured upon him by the soli 
 citor-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 re 
 pealed the stamp-act, it was only upon the principle 
 of expediency. They still insisted upon the 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 c ses 
 whatsoever. This language was used even by th?) 
 
134 LIFE OF 
 
 most strenuous opposers of the stamp-act ; and y 
 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 ac 
 customed ; 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 dispo 
 sition of the colonies towards the mother country , that, 
 notwithstanding the disadvantages under which they 
 laboured, from restraints upon their trade, calculated 
 solely for the benefit of the commercial and manufac 
 turing 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 de 
 scended ; 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 consider 
 ed as almost barbarians, in comparison with English 
 men. 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 separa 
 tion ! The duties on glass, paper, leather, painter s 
 colours, tea, &c. the disfranchisement of some of the 
 colonies ; the obstruction to the measures of the legis 
 lature in others, by the king s governors ; the con 
 temptuous treatment of their humble remonstrances, 
 stating their grievances, and praying a redress o 
 them, and other violent and oppressive measures, at 
 length excited an ardent spirit of opposition. Instead 
 of endeavoring to allay this by a mofe lenient conduct. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 135 
 
 the ministry seemed resolutely bent upon reducing 
 the colonies to the most slavish obedience to their de 
 crees. But this tended only to aggravate. Vain were 
 all the efforts made use of to prevail upon them to lay 
 aside their designs, to convince them of the impossibili 
 ty of carrying them into effect, and of the mischievous 
 consequences which must ensue from a continuance 
 of the attempt. 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 pro 
 duced 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 improvement iu 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 Revo 
 lution, 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 impo 
 licy and injustice of their conduct towards America ; 
 and stated, that, notwithstanding the attachment of the 
 colonists towards the mother country, a repetition of 
 ill treatment must ultimately alienate their affections. 
 They listened not to his advice. They blindly per 
 severed in their own schemes, and left to the colonists 
 no alternative, but opposition or unconditional submis 
 sion. The 1 ttter accorded not with the principles of 
 freedom, which they had been taught to revere. To 
 
136 LIFE OF 
 
 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 , return 
 ed to America in the year 1775 ; just after the com 
 mencement of hostilities. The day after his return 
 he was elected by the legislature of Pennsylvania a 
 Member of Congress. Not long after his election a 
 committee was appointed, consisting of Mr. Lynch. 
 Mr. Harrison, and himself, to visit the Camp at Cam 
 bridge, and in conjunction with the commander in 
 chief, to endeavour to convince the troops, whos$ 
 term of enlistment was about to expire, of the neces 
 sity 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 liber 
 ty ; but they could not be prevailed upon to oppose 
 the measures of the British Government. M. Le 
 Roy, in a letter annexed to Abbe Fauchet s eulogium 
 of Dr. Franklin, states that the ill success of this ne- 
 gociation 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 1776, vested 
 with power to treat with the colonists, a correspon 
 dence took place between him and Dr. Franklin, on 
 the subject of a reconciliation. Dr. Franklin was af 
 terwards appointed, together with John Adams and 
 Edward Rutledge, to wait upon the commissioners, in 
 order to learn the extent of their power. These were 
 found to be only to grant pardons upon submission 
 These were terms which would not be accepted ; and 
 the object of the commissioners could not be obtaine* 
 
 The momentous question of Independence wa 
 shortly after brought into view, at a time when the 
 fleets and armies, which were sent to enforce obe- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 13? 
 
 dience, were truly formidable. With an army nu 
 merous 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 ex 
 perienced ti repetition of injury and insult. In this 
 question, Dr. Franklin was decidedly in favour of the 
 measure proposed, and had great influence in bring 
 ing over others to his sentiments. 
 
 The public mind had been pretty fully prepared for 
 this event, by Mr. Paine s celebrated pamphlet, Cow- 
 inon Sense. There is good reason to believe that Dr. 
 Franklin had no inconsiderable share, at least, in fur 
 bishing materials for this work. 
 
 In the convention which assembled at Philadelphia 
 in 1776, for the purpose of establishing a new form of 
 government for the state of Pennsylvania, Dr. Frank- 
 I m 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 gov 
 ernment. The single legislature, and the plural ex 
 ecutive, seem to have been his favourite tenets. 
 
 In the latter end of 1776, Dr. Franklin was appoint 
 ed to assist in the negociations which had been set on 
 foot by Silas Deane at the court of France. A con 
 viction 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 - r and in February 1778, a treaty 
 of alliance, offensive and defensive, was concluded ; in 
 consequence of which France became involved in the 
 war with Great Britain. 
 
 Perhaps no person could have been found, more ca 
 
138 LIFE OF 
 
 pable ef 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 con 
 tributed to bringing the war to a happy conclusion. 
 
 The repeated ill success of their arms, and more 
 particularly the capture of Cornwallis and his army, 
 at length convinced the British nation of the impossi 
 bility "of reducing the Americans to subjection. The 
 trading interest particularly became very clamorous 
 for peace. The ministry were unable longer to op 
 pose their wishes. Provisional articles of peace were 
 agreed to, and signed at Paris on the 30th of Novem 
 ber, 1782, by Dr. Franklin, Mr Adams, Mr. Jay, and 
 Mr. Laurens, on the part of the United States ; and 
 by Mr. Oswald on the part of Great Britain. These 
 tbrmed the basis of the definite treaty, which was 
 Concluded the 30th of September 1783, and signed by 
 Dr Franklin, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Jay, on the one 
 part, and by Mr. David Hartley on the other. 
 
 On the 3d of April 1783, a treaty of amity and 
 commerce, between the United States and Sweden 
 was concluded at Paris, by Dr. Franklin and the Count 
 
 Von Krutz. 
 
 A similar treaty with Prussia was concluded 
 1775, not long before Dr. Franklin s departure 
 
 EU Dr Pe Franklin did not suffer his political pursuits 
 * engross his whole attention. Some of his perform- 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 139 
 
 ances made their appearance in Paris. The object 
 of these was generally the promotion of industry and 
 oeconomy. 
 
 In the year 1784, when animal magnetism made 
 great noise in the world, particularly at Paris, it was 
 thought a matter of such importance, that the King 
 appointed commissioners to examine into the founda 
 tion of the pretended science. Dr. Franklin was one 
 of the number. After a fair and diligent examination, 
 in the course of which Mesrner repeated a number of 
 experiments, in the presence of the commissioner?, 
 some of which were tried upon themselves, they de 
 termined that it was a mere trick, intended to impose 
 upon the ignorant and credulous IVIesmer was thus 
 interrupted in his career to wealth aad fame, and a 
 most insolent attempt to impose upon the human un 
 derstanding t>affled. 
 
 The important ends of Dr. Franklin s mission being 
 completed by the establishment of American Inde 
 pendence, and the infirmities of age and disease com 
 ing upon him, he became desirous of returning to hie 
 native country. Upon application to Congress to be 
 recalled, Mr. Jefferson was appointed to succeed him, 
 in 1785. Sometime in September of the same year, 
 Dr. Franklin arrived in Philadelphia. He. was shortly 
 after chosen member of the supreme executive coun 
 cil for the city ; and soon after was elected president 
 of the same. & 
 
 When a Convention was called to meet in Philadel 
 phia, in 1787, for the purpose of giving more energy 
 to the government of the union, by revising and 
 amending the articles of confederation, Dr. Franklin 
 was appointed a delegate from the State of Pennsylva 
 nia. He signed the Constitution which they propos 
 ed for the union, and gave it the most unequivocal 
 marks of his approbation. 
 
 A society of political enquiries, of which Dr. Frank- 
 Hn was president, was established about this period, 
 
140 LIFE OF 
 
 The meetings were held at his house. Two or three 
 essays rei-i in this society were published. It did not 
 long continue. 
 
 In the year 1787, two societies were established in 
 Philadelphia, founded on 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 pre 
 sident. The labours of these bodies have been crown 
 ed with 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 ia 
 1788, he retired wholly from public life. 
 
 His constitution had been a remarkable good one. 
 He had been little subject to disease, except an attack 
 of the gout occasionally, until the year 1781, when he 
 was first attacked with the 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 f Acuities were 
 entirely unimpaired, even to the hour of his de.ith. 
 
 His name, as president of the Abolition Society, 
 was signed to the memorial presented to the house of 
 Representatives of the United States, on the 12th of 
 February 1789, praying them to exert the full extent 
 of power vested in them by the constitution, in dis 
 couraging the traffic of the human species. This was 
 his last public act. In the debates to which this me 
 morial gave rise, several attempts were made to justi 
 fy the trade. In the Federal Gazette of March 25th 
 there appeared an essay, signed Historic us, written by 
 Dr. Franklin, in which he communicated a speech, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 14i 
 
 said to have been delivered in the Divan of Algiers in 
 1687, in opposition to the prayer of the petition of a 
 sect culled Erika, or purists, for the abolition of piracy 
 and slavery. This pretended African speech w is an 
 excellent parody of one delivered by Mr. Jackson of 
 Georgia. All the arguments urged in fuvour of ne 
 gro slavery, are applied with equal force to justify 
 the plundering and enslaving the Europeans. It af 
 fords, at the same time, a demonstration of the fu 
 tility of the arguments in defence of the dave trade, 
 and of the strength of mind and ingenuity of the au 
 thor, a* 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 celebra 
 ted parable against persecution. And as the latter led 
 many 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 wVich it was 
 said to be extracted.* 
 
 In the beginning of April following, he was attack 
 ed with a fever and a 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 pain 
 ful paroxysms, he was obliged to take large doses of 
 laudanum to mitigate his tortures still, in the inter 
 vals of pain, he not only amused himself with reading 
 and conversing with his family, and a few friends who 
 visited him, but as 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 in- 
 stance displayed, not only that readiness and disposi 
 tion of doing good, which was the distinguished cha- 
 
 * This speech will be found ia the volume of Essays, 
 
M2 LIFE OF 
 
 racteristic of his life, but the fullest and clearest pos 
 session 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 seiz 
 ed with a feverish indisposition, without any particular 
 symptoms attending it, till the third or fourth clay, 
 when he complained of pain in his left breast, which 
 increased till it became extremely acute, attended with 
 a cough and a 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 that he did not bear them as he ought acknow 
 ledged his grateful sense of the many blessings he 
 had received from the Supreme Being, who had raised 
 him from small and lew 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 strength to do it ; 
 but, as that failed, the organs of respiration became 
 gradually oppressed a calm lethargic state succeed 
 ed, and, on the 17th of April, 1790, about eleven 
 o clock at night, he quietly expired, closing a long and 
 useful life of eighty-four years and three months. 
 
 " It may not be amiss to add to the above account 
 that Dr. Franklin, in the year 1735, had a severe pleu 
 risy, which terminated in an abscess of the left lobe of 
 his lungs, and he wns then almost suffocated with the 
 quantity and suddenness of the discharge. A second 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 143 
 
 attack of a similar nature happened some years after 
 this, from which he soon recovered, and did not ap 
 pear to suffer any inconvenience in his respiration 
 from these diseases." 
 
 The following Epitaph on himself, was written by 
 fcimmany 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 them 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 and 
 Les Metiers, I give to the philosophical society, estab 
 lished in New-England, of which I am a member. 
 My quarto edition of the same Arts and Metiers, I 
 
144 LIFE OF 
 
 give to the Library Company of Philadelphia. Such 
 and so many of my books as 1 shall m.trk, in the 
 said catalogue, with the name of my grandson, Benja 
 min Franklin Bache, I do hereby give to him : and 
 such and so m my of my books as I sh;?ll mark in the 
 said catalogue with the name of my grandson William 
 B.if.hs, I do hereby give to him : and such as shall be 
 m. rked with the name of Jonathan Williams, I here 
 by give to my cousin of that n *me. 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 Philakelphiu I 
 give to my grandson Benjamin Franklin Bache, con 
 fiding 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 ir-stni tions in literature to the free grammar- 
 schools established there. I therefore give one hun 
 dred pounds sterling to my executors, to be by them, 
 the survivors or survivor of them, paid over to the 
 m aggers or directors of the free schools ininy native 
 town of Boston, to be by them, or the person or per 
 sons who shall have the superintendance and manage 
 ment of the Srdd schools, put out to interest, and so 
 continued at interest for ever ; which interest annually 
 shull be laid out in silver medals, and given as honora 
 ry rewi.r-is 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 man 
 ner is to the discretion of the selectmen of the said 
 town shall seem meet. 
 
 Out of the salary that may remain due to me, as 
 president of the state, I 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 per 
 sons as the legislature of this state, by an act of as 
 sembly, shall appoint to receive the s? me, in trust, to 
 be employed for making the Schuylkill navigable, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 145 
 
 During the number of years I was in business as a 
 stationer, printer, and postmaster, a great many small 
 sums became due to me, for books, advertisements, 
 postage of letters, and other matters, which were not 
 collected, when, in 1757, I was sent by the assembly 
 to England as their agent and, by subsequent ap- 
 pointments continued there till 1775 when, on my 
 return, I was immediately engaged in the affairs of 
 congress, and sent to France in 1776, where I remained 
 nine years, not returning till 1785 ; and the said debts 
 not being demanded in such a length of time, are be 
 come in a manner obsolete, yet are nevertheless justly 
 due These, as they are stated in my great folio ledg 
 er E, 1 bequeath to the contributors of the Pennsyl 
 vania hospital ; hoping that those debtors, and thejie- 
 scendants of such as are deceased, who now, as I find, 
 make some difficulty of satisfying such antiquated de 
 mands as just debts, m ly however be induced to pay 
 er 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 ctr.rgcJ may 
 have existing old im-,ettled accounts against me ; in 
 which case the managers of the said hospital will al-^ 
 low >nd deduct the amount, and pay the balance, if 
 they find it against me. 
 
 T request my friends Henry Hill, Esq. John J.iy, 
 Esq. Francis Hopkinson, Esq. and Mr. Edward Duf- 
 field, of Bonfielcl, in Philadelphia cou.ity, to be the 
 executors of this my last will aul testament, and I 
 hereby nominate and appoint them for that purpose. 
 I svould have my body buried with as little expense 
 or cei-emony as may be. 
 
 Philadelphia, July 17, 1788. 
 
 CODICIL. 
 
 I Benjamin Franklin, in the foregoing or annexed 
 last will and testament, having further considered the 
 13 
 
146 LIFE OF 
 
 same, dp think proper to make and publish the follow 
 ing codicil, or addition thereto : 
 
 It having long been a fixed political opinion of mine, 
 that in a democratical state there ought to be no offices 
 of profit, for the reasons I had given in an article of 
 my drawing in our constitution, it was my intention, 
 when I accepted the office of president, to devote the 
 appointed salary to some public 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 thou 
 sand pounds more to the state, for the purpose of mak 
 ing the Schuylkill navigable ; but understanding since, 
 that such a sum will do but little towards accomplish 
 ing such a work, and that the project is not likely to 
 be undertaken for many years to come and having 
 entertained another idea, which I hope may be fonnd 
 more extensively useful, I do hereby revoke and an 
 nul the bequest, and direct that the certificates I have 
 for what remains due to me of that salary, be sold to 
 wards raising the sum of two thousand pounds ster 
 ling, 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 ances 
 tor or relation. I shall, however, if it is not diminished 
 by some accident before my death, leave a considera 
 ble estate among my decendants 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 advan 
 tage. 
 
 I was born in Boston, New-England, and owe my 
 first instructions in literature to the free grammar- 
 schools established there. I have, therefore, consi 
 dered those schools in my will. 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 147 
 
 But I am under obligations to the state of Massachu 
 setts, 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 let 
 ters, 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 citi 
 zens ; and having been myself 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 founda 
 tion 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 ster 
 ling, which I give, one thousand thereof to the inhab 
 itants of the town of Boston, in Massachusetts, and the 
 other thousand to the inhabitants of the city of Phila 
 delphia, in trust, to and for the uses, intents and pur 
 poses, herein after mentioned and declared. 
 
 The said sum of one thousand pounds sterling, if ac 
 cepted by the inhabitants of the town of Boston, shall 
 be managed under the direction of the selectmen, 
 united with the ministers of the oldest episcopalian, 
 congregational, and presbyterinn churches in that 
 town, who are to let out the same upon interest at five 
 per cent, per annum, to such young married artificers, 
 under the age of twenty-five years, as have served an 
 apprenticeship in the said town, and faithfully fulfilled 
 the duties required in their indentures, so as to ob 
 tain a good moral character, from at least two respect 
 able citizens, who are willing to become sureties in a 
 bond, with the applicants, for the repayment of the 
 money so lent with interest, according to the terms 
 
148 LIFE 0F 
 
 herein after prescribed ; all which bonds are to be tu 
 ken for Spanish milled dollars, or the value thereof in 
 current gold coin : and the managers shall keep a 
 boofc, 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 bu 
 siness, they are to be proportioned by the discretion 
 of the managers, go as not to exceed sixty pounds 
 sterling to one person, nor to be less than fifteea 
 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 Avill be more ample. 
 .And in order to serve as many as possible in their turn, 
 as well as to mike the repayment of the principal bor 
 rowed more easy, each borrower shall be obliged to 
 pay with the yearly interest one tenth part of the prin 
 cipal, 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 genera 
 tion, 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 augmented by the interest, in which 
 case there may in time be more than the occasion in 
 Boston shall require : and then some may be spared 
 to the neighbouring or other towns in the said state of 
 Massachusetts, which may desire to have it, such 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. 149 
 
 towns engaging to p.-iy punctually the interest, and 
 such proportion of the principal annually to the inhabi 
 tants of the town of Boston, ff this pi in is executed, 
 and succeeds as projected, without interruption, for 
 one hundred years, the sum will be then one hundred 
 and thirty-one thousand pounds ; of which I would 
 have the managers of the donation of the town of Bos 
 ton then lay out, at their discretion, one hundred 
 thousand pounds in public works, which may be judg 
 ed 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 hun 
 dred 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 citizen. At the end of the 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 six 
 ty-one thousand pounds to the disposition and manage 
 ment 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 any 
 farther. 
 
 All the directions herein given respecting the dis 
 position and management of the donation to the inhab 
 itants of Boston, I would have observed respecting 
 that to the inhabitants of Philadelphia ; only, as Phila 
 delphia 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 of its ground-plat with 
 13 * 
 
150 DR. FRANKLIN.. 
 
 buildings and pavements, which carry off most rains, 
 and prevent it 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 1 fi> d has Happened in )!! old cities ; I re 
 commend, that, at the end of the first hundred years, 
 if nol done before, the corporation of the city employ 
 a p ;rt 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 
 Schuylkill completely navigable. At the end of 
 the second hundred years, 1 would have the disposi 
 tion of the four millions and sixty-one thousand pounds 
 divided between the inhabitants of the city of Philadel 
 phia 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 Massa 
 chusetts. 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 in 
 tended may make their respective applications ; and I 
 hereby direct my executors, the survivors, and survi 
 vor of them, within six months after my decease, to 
 pay over the said sum of t\vo thousand pounds ster 
 ling to such persons as shall be duly appointed by the 
 selectmen of Boston, and the corporation of Philadel 
 phia, 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, 
 
DR. FRANKLIN. *M 
 
 and have the effects proposed ; 1 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 marks of my good will, 
 tokens 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 1 think, that, 
 though unforeseen difficulties may arise, expedients 
 will be found to remove them, arid 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 di 
 rected for the separate parts ; and if both refuse, the 
 money remains of course in the mass of my estate, and 
 it is to be disposed of therewith, according to my will 
 made the seventeenth day of July, 1788. 
 
 My fine crab-tree walking-stick, with a gold head 
 curiously wrought in the form of the cap of Liberty, 
 I .live to my friend, and the friend of mankind, Gene 
 ral Washington. If it were a sceptre, he had merit 
 ed it, and would become it. 
 
 [Dr. Franklin s funeral was attended by all of the 
 most distinguished inhabitants of Philadelphia, in 
 cluding the principal officers, both of the National and 
 State governments. In the House of Representatives 
 of the U. S. Mr. Madison moved a resolution, of the 
 following import : " This house being informed of 
 the decease of Benjamin Franklin, a citizen whose na 
 tive genius was not more an ornament to human na 
 ture, than his various exertions of it have been pre 
 cious to science, to freedom, and to his country, do 
 resolve* as a mark of veneration due to his memory, 
 that the members wear the customary badge of 
 mourning for one month,"] Pub, 
 
tisi LIFE OF, &c. 
 
 To show the readiness of Dr. Franklin at repartee > 
 an- l the boldness with which he, at all times, avowed 
 his opinion in fivor of the revolution, and his opinion 
 of VY.ishington, we republish the following. The 
 instance took place at the Court of the King of 
 Denmark, at a public dinner, when the following 
 Toasts were drank : 
 
 By the King of England s Ambassador. George the 
 III. who, like the SUN, enlightens the whole earth by 
 the brightness of his beams. 
 
 By the King of France s Ambassador. Louis the 
 XVI. who, like the MOON, sheds his mild lustre on 
 all around. 
 
 By Dr. Franklin, the American Ambassador. Ge 
 neral George Washington, President of the United 
 States who, like Joshua of old, commanded the Swi 
 and the Moon to stand still, and they obeyed him. 
 
 
ESSAYS, 
 
 HUMOROUS, MORAL AND LITERARY, &<:-. 
 
 ON EARLY MARRIAGES. 
 
 TO JOHN ALLEYNE, ESQ. 
 
 DEAR JACK, 
 
 You desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the 
 subject of an early marriage, by way of answer to 
 the numberless objections that have been made by 
 numerous persons to your own. You may remember 
 when you consulted me on the occasion, that I thought 
 youth on both sides to be no objection. Indeed, from 
 the marriages that have fallen under my observation, 
 I am rather inclined to think, that early ones stand the 
 best chance of happiness. The temper and habits of 
 the young are not yet become so stiff and uncomply 
 ing, as when more advanced in life ; they form more 
 easily to each other, and hence many occasions of dis 
 gust are removed. And if youth has less of that pru 
 dence which is necessary to manage a family, yet the 
 parents and elder friends of young married persons 
 are generally at hand to offer their advice, which am 
 ply 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 
 
*54 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 Span 
 ish 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 en 
 joys. By these early marriages we are blessed with 
 more children ; and from the mode among us, found 
 ed 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 \vho 
 having too long postponed the change of their condi 
 tion, find, at length, that it is too late to think of it, 
 and so live all their lives in a situation that greatly les 
 sens a man s value. An odd volume of a set of books 
 bears not the value of its proportion to the set : what 
 think you of the odd half of a pair of scissors ? it 
 i-.an t well cut any thing ; it may possibly serve to 
 scrape a trencher. 
 
 Pray make my compliments and best wishes ac 
 ceptable 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 
 
ESSAYS. 155 
 
 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 bandy ings, are apt to 
 end in anger 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 
 
 B . FRANKLIN. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER, 
 MR. JOHN FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO MISS HUBBARD. 
 
 I condole with you. We have lost a most dear 
 and valuable relation. But it is the will of God and 
 nature, that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when 
 the soul is to enter into real life. This is rather an 
 embryo state, a preparation for living. A man is 
 not completely born until he be dead. Why then 
 should we grieve that a new child is born among the 
 immortals, a new member added to their happy soci 
 ety ? We are spirits. That bodies should be lent us 
 while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquir 
 ing knowledge, or doing good to our fellow-creatures 
 is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they be 
 come unfit for these purposes, and afford us pain in 
 stead of pleasure ; instead of an aid become an incum- 
 bnnce, mci answer none of the intentions for which 
 they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent 
 ihat 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 free 
 ly, since the pain goes with it ; and he who quits the 
 whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibili 
 ties of pain and diseases, it was liable to or capable of 
 making him suffer. 
 
 Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party 
 of pleasure, which is to last for ever. His chair was 
 ready first ; and he is gone before us. We could not 
 all conveniently start together : and why should you 
 and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, 
 and know where to find him ? Adieu, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO THE LATE 
 
 DR. MATHER, OF BOSTON. 
 
 REV. SIR, 
 
 I received your kind letter, with your excellent 
 advice to 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 uninter 
 esting to you. When I was a boy, 1 met with a book 
 entitled, " Essays to do good," which I think was 
 written by your father. It had been so little regarded 
 by i former possessor, that several leaves of it were 
 torn out ; but the remainder gave. me such a turn of 
 thinking, as to have nn influence on my conduct through 
 life : for I have always set a greater value on the cha- 
 
ESSAYS. 157 
 
 racter of a doer of good, than any other kind of repu- 
 tation ; 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 to 
 gether. It is now more than sixty years since I left 
 Boston ; but I remember well both your father and 
 grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, 
 and seen them in their houses. The last time I saw 
 your father was in the beginning of 1724, when I vi 
 sited him after my first trip to Pennsylvania : he re 
 ceived me in his library ; and on my taking leave, 
 shewed me a shorter way out of the house, through a 
 narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam over 
 head. We were still talking as I withdrew, he accom 
 panying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, 
 when he said hastily, " Stoop, Stoop !" I did not un 
 derstand him till I felt my hetxd iiit against the beam. 
 He was a man who never missed any occasion of giv 
 ing instruction ; and upon this he snid 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 bend, has 
 frequently been of use to me ; and I often think of 
 it, when 1 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 1723. 
 I visited it in 1733, 1743, and 1763 ; and in 1773 
 I was in England. In 1775, I had a sight of it, but 
 could not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. 
 I did hope to have been there in 1783, but could not 
 obtain my dismission from this employment here j 
 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 forever ! 
 14 
 
153 ESSAYS. 
 
 This powerful monarchy continues its friendship 
 for the United States. It is a friendship of the ut 
 most importance to our security, and should be care 
 fully 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 reput-ition, by performing our 
 engagements ; our credit by fulfilling our contracts ; 
 an& 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. 
 Patsy, May 12, 1784, 
 
 THE WHISTLE. 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 WRITTEN TO HIS NEPHEW, 
 
 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 1 met by the way in the hands of another boy, I 
 voluntarily oftered him all my money for one* I then 
 
ESSAYS. Io9 
 
 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, under 
 standing 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 my 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 im 
 pression 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 com 
 fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to otheis, 
 all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of 
 benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating 
 wealth : Poor man, says I, you do indeed 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 ; Mistaken man, says I, 
 you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure ; 
 you give too much for your whistle. 
 
160 ESSAYS. 
 
 If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine 
 equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts 
 debts, and ends his career in prison ; Mas, says I, he 
 has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle. 
 
 When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl, mar 
 ried 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 conceive that great part of the miseries 
 of mankind were brought upon them by the false esti 
 mates they had made of the value of things, and by 
 their giving too much for their whistles. 
 
 A PETITION 
 
 TO THOSE WHO HAVE THE SUPERINTENDENCE 
 OF EDUCATION. 
 
 I address myself to all the friends of youth, and 
 conjure them to direct their compassionate regards 
 to my unhpppy fate, in order to remove the prejudi 
 ces of which I am the victim. There are twin sis 
 ters of us ; and the two eyes of man do not more re 
 semble, nor are capable of being on 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 infan 
 cy 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 j 
 tmtif by chance I touched a pencil, a pen, or a needle, 
 I was bitterly rebuked ; and more than once I have 
 been beaten for being awkward, and wanting a graceful 
 manner. It is true, my sister associated me with her 
 upon some occasions ; but she always made a point < 
 
ESSAYS. 161 
 
 taking the lead, calling upon me only from necessity, 
 or to figure by her side. 
 
 But conceive not, Sirs, that my complaints are insti 
 gated merely by vanity No ; my uneasiness is occa 
 sioned by one object much more serious. It is the 
 practice in our family, that the whole business of pro 
 viding for its subsistence falls upon my sister and my 
 self. 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 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, 
 
 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 frprq the 
 
 14 * 
 
162 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 
 campany, 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 whatev 
 er 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 arc 
 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 cur 
 ed, when those who have it are convinced of its bad 
 effects on their felicity ; I hope this little admoni 
 tion 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 conse 
 quences in life, as it brings on rea) griefs and oiisfor 
 
ESSAYS, 103 
 
 tunes. For as many are offended by, and nobody loves 
 this sort of people ; no one shews 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 in 
 cur 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 them 
 selves and others about the contraries, it is good for 
 others to avoid an acquaintance with them ; which is 
 always disagreeable, and sometimes very inconvenient, 
 especially when one finds one s self entangled in their 
 quarrels. 
 
 An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, 
 from experience, very cautious in this particular, and 
 carefully avoided any intimacy with such people. He 
 had like other philosophers, a thermometer to shew 
 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 in 
 terview, regarded his ugly leg more than his hand 
 some 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 ac 
 quaintance with him. Every body has not this two 
 legged instrument ; but every one, with a little atten 
 tion, 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 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 advise those critical, querulous, discontented, unhappy 
 people, that if they wish to be respected and beloved 
 by others, and h:ippy in themselves, they should 
 leave off" looking at the ugly leg. 
 
 CONVERSATION 
 OF A COMPANY OF EPHEMERAE; 
 
 WITH THE SOLILOQUY OF ONE ADVANCED IN AGE. 
 
 TO MADAME BRILLIANT. 
 
 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, 1 stopt 
 a little in one of our walks, and staid some time behind 
 the company. We had been shewn numberless skel 
 etons of a kind of little fly, called an Ephemeras, whose 
 successive generations, we are told, were bred and ex 
 pired within the day. I appened to see allying compa 
 ny 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 pro 
 gress I have made in your charming language. I 
 listened through curiosity to the discourse of these 
 little creatures ; but as they, in their natural vivacity 
 spoke three or four together, I could make but little of 
 their conversation. I found, however, by some bro 
 ken expressions that I heard now and then, they were 
 disputing warmly on the merit of two foreign musi 
 cians, the 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 
 
ESSAYS. 166 
 
 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 amus 
 ed with his soliloquy, 1 put it down in writing, in hopes 
 it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so much in 
 debted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her 
 delicious company, and heavenly harmony. 
 
 " It was," says he, " the opinion of learned philo 
 sophers of our race, who lived and flourished long be 
 fore 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 opi 
 nion ; since, by the apparent motion of the great lumi 
 nary, 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, necessa 
 rily producing universal death and destruction. I 
 have lived seven of those hours ; a great age, being 
 no less than 420 minutes of time. How very few of 
 us continue so long ! I have seen generations born., 
 flourish, and expire. My present friends are the chil - 
 dren 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 la 
 bour in amassing honey-dew on this leaf, which I can i 
 not live to enjoy ! What the political struggles I have 
 been engaged in, for the good of my corn-patriot in 
 habitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies, 
 for the benefit of our race in general ! for in politics 
 what ran laws do without morals ?) our present race 
 
A66 ESSAYS. 
 of Ephemerae will in a course of minutes become cor- 
 rupt, like those of other and older bushes, and conse 
 quently 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 bu 
 ried in universal ruin ?" 
 
 To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid plea 
 sures now remain, but the reflection of a long life 
 spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of 
 a few good lady Ephemerae, and now and then a 
 kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Bril 
 liant. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN, 
 
 MORALS OF CHESS. 
 
 Playing at chess is the most ancient and most 
 "universal game known among men ; for its origi 
 nal is beyond the memory of history, and it has, for 
 numberless ages, been the amusement of all the civi 
 lized 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 appear 
 ance in these states. It is so interesting in itself, as 
 to not 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 
 fiud one that is more innocent : and the following 
 
ESSAYS. 16? 
 
 piece, written with a view to correct (among a few 
 young friends) some little improprieties in the prao . 
 tice of it, shews, at the same time, that it may, in its 
 effects on the mind, be not merely innocent, but ad 
 vantageous, to the vanquished as well as the victor. 
 
 The game of chess is not merely an idle amuse 
 ment. Several 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 adversa 
 ries to contend with, and in which there is avast varie 
 ty 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 1 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 respective 
 ly 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 particu 
 larly of war ; in which, if you have incautiously put 
 
168 ESSAYS. 
 
 yourself into a bad and dangerous position, you can 
 not 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 afavourable 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 vi 
 cissitudes, and one so frequently, after long contempla 
 tion, discovers the means of extricating one s self from 
 a supposed insurmountable difficulty, that one is encou 
 raged to continue the contest to the last, in hopes of 
 victory by our own skill, or at least giving 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 pre 
 sumption, 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 pursuit of it. 
 
 That we may therefore, be induced more frequent 
 ly to choose this beneficial amusement, in preference 
 to others, which are not attended with the same advan 
 tages, 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 con 
 trary 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. 
 
ESSAYS. 16y 
 
 Secondly, If it is agreed not to observe the rules 
 exactly, but one party demands indulgences, he 
 should then be as willing to allow them to the other. 
 Thirdly, No false move should ever be made to ex 
 tricate yourself out of a difficulty, or to gain an advan 
 tage. 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 re.id, nor make a 
 tapping with your feet on the floor, or with your fin 
 gers on the table, nor do any thing that may disturb 
 his attention. For all these things displease, and they 
 do not shew 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 de 
 ceit, not skill in the game. 
 
 Sixthly, You must not, when you have gained a vic 
 tory, 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 ad 
 vice, 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 
 45 
 
170 ESSAYS. 
 
 might have had, if you had permitted him to think us 
 til 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 dis 
 pleases, and may occasion disputes and doubts about 
 their true situation. All talking to the players les 
 sens or diverts their attention, and is therefore un- 
 pleasing. 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 shew your judgment, do it in playing your 
 own game, when you have an opportunity, not in cri 
 ticising, 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 inat 
 tention : but point out to him kindly, that by such a 
 move he places or leaves a piece in danger and unsup 
 ported ; that by another he will put his King in a peri 
 lous situation, &c. By this generous civility (so op 
 posite to the unfairness above forbidden) you may, in 
 deed, 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 approba 
 tion and good will of impartial spectators. 
 
 THE ART OF PROCURING PLEASANT DREAMS, 
 
 INSCRIBED TO MISS * * * *. 
 BEING WRITTEN AT HER REaUEST. 
 
 As a great part of our life is spent in sleep, during 
 which we have sometimes pleasing, and sometu 
 painful dreams, it becomes of some consequence 
 
ESSAYS. 174 
 
 V) obtain the one kind, and avoid the other ; for whe 
 ther 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 pleasing dreams, it is, as the French say, 
 (ante gagne, 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 diges 
 tion. If, after exercise, we feed sparingly, the diges 
 tion will be easy and good, the body lightsome, the 
 temper cheerful, and all the animal functions per 
 formed agreeably. Sleep, when it follows, will be 
 natural and undisturbed. While indolence, with full 
 feeding, occasions nightmares and horrors inexpressi 
 ble : we fall from precipices, are assaulted by wild 
 beasts, murderers, and demons, and experience every 
 variety of distress. Observe, however, that the quan 
 tities 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 ge 
 neral, mankind, since the improvement of cooke 
 ry, 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 
 tull dinners. Indeed, as there is a difference in con 
 stitutions, 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 vour 
 
;:.-> ESSAYS. 
 
 bed-chamber. It has been a great mistake, the sleep 
 ing in rooms exactly closed, and in beds sirrroumled 
 by curtains. No outward air, that may come into you. 
 is so unwholesome as the unchanged air, often breath 
 ed, of a close chamber. As boiling water does not 
 grow hotter by longer boiling, if the particles that re 
 ceive 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 lungs, and in a free open air, they arc 
 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 propor 
 tion, and many putrid disorders hence have their ori 
 gin. It is recorded of Methusalem, who, being the 
 longest liver, may be supposed to have best preserv 
 ed 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 long 
 er." 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 hav 
 ing for ages contended that the sick should not be in 
 dulged 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 is is not hurt 
 ful to those who are in health : and that we may be 
 then cured of the aerophobia that at present distresses 
 weak minds, and make them choose to be stifled and 
 poisoned, rather than leave open the windows of a 
 bed-chamber, or put down the glass of a coach. 
 
ESSAYS. 173 
 
 Confined air, when saturated with perspirable mat 
 ter*, will not receive more ; and that matter must re 
 main in our bodies and occasion diseases : but it gives 
 some previous notice of its being about to be hurtful, 
 by producing certain uneasiness, slight indeed at first, 
 such as, with regard to the lungs, is a trilling sensa 
 tion, and to the pores of the skin a kind of restless 
 ness which is difficult to describe, and few that feel it 
 know the cause of it. But we may recollect, that 
 sometimes on walking in the night, w r e have, if warmly 
 covered, found it difficult to get asleep again. We 
 turn often without finding repose in any position. This 
 figgettiness, to use a vulgar expression for want of a 
 better, is occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the 
 skin, owing to the retention of the perspirable matter ; 
 f.he bed clothes having received their quantity, and be 
 ing 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 refresh 
 ed ; 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 bepushed away, with its burthen, by cooler, and 
 therefore heavier fresh air ; which, for a moment, sup- 
 is its place, and then, being likewise changed, and 
 warmed, gives way to a succeeding quantity. This 
 the order of nature, to prevent animals being infect- 
 J-by their own perspiration. He will now be sensible 
 the difference between the part exposed to the air, 
 
 * What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that va 
 pour which passes off from our bodie9, from the lungs, and 
 through the pores of the skin. The quantity of this faTtiiid to 
 *~ s five-eights of what we eat. 
 J5 * 
 
174 ESSAYS. 
 
 and that which, remaining sunk in the bed, denies 
 the air access : for this part now manifests its uneasi 
 ness 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 un- 
 pleasing 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 conse 
 quences. The remedies, preventative, and curative, 
 follow : 
 
 1. By eating moderately, (as before advised for 
 health s sake,) less perspirable matter is produced in 
 a given time ; hence the bed clothes receive it longer 
 before they are saturated ; and we may, therefore, 
 sleep longer, before we are made uneasy by their re 
 fusing to receive any more. 
 
 2. By using thinner and more porous bed-clothes, 
 which will suffer the perspirable matter more easily 
 to pass through them, we are less incommoded, such 
 being longer tolerable. 
 
 3. When you are awakened by this uneasiness, and 
 find you cannot easily sleep again, get out of bed, beat 
 up and turn your pillow, shake the bed-clothes well, 
 with at least twenty shakes, then throw the bed open, 
 and leave it to cool : in the meanwhile, continuing un- 
 drest, 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. W hen y ou 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 en 
 tertained with them, as by the scenery of an opera. J 
 you happen to be too indolent to get out of bed, yd 
 may, instead of it, lift up your bed-clothes with 
 arm and leg, so as to draw in a good deal of Ires 
 
 and by letting them full, force it out again. 1 nis, re- 
 
ESSAYS. 175 
 
 peated twenty times, will so clear them of the perspi 
 rable matter they have imbibed, as to permit your 
 sleeping well for some time afterwards. But this lat^ 
 ter 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 sw r eet, 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 ima 
 gination. 
 
 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 tinniest 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 neces 
 sary above all things, 
 
 A GOOD CONSCIENCE, 
 
176 ESSAYS. 
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN. 
 
 WRITTEN ANNO 1748. 
 TO MY FRIEND A. B. 
 
 As you have desired it of me, I write the following hints, 
 which have been of service to me, and may, if observed, 
 be so to you. 
 
 Remember that time is money. He that can earn 
 ten shillings a day by his labour, and goes abroad 
 or sits idle one half of that day, though he 
 spends but sixpence during his diversion or idleness, 
 ought not to reckon that the only expense ; he has 
 really spent, or rather thrown away, five shillings be 
 sides. 
 
 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 when 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 expense, unperceived, a man of 
 credit may, on his own security, have the constant pos- 
 scseion and use of an hundred pounds. So much m 
 
ESSAYS. 177 
 
 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 con 
 tributes more to the raising of a young man in the 
 world, tharupunctuality and justice in all his dealings : 
 therefore never keep borrowed money an hour be 
 yond the time yoja promised, lest a disappointment 
 shut up your friend s purse for ever. 
 
 The most trifling actions that can affectaman s cre 
 dit are to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at 
 live in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a cre 
 ditor 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 shews, besides, that you are mindful of what you 
 owe ; it makes you appear a careful, as well as all 
 honest man, and that still increases your credits 
 
 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 ex 
 penses and your income. If you take the pains at 
 first to mention particulars, it will have this good ef 
 fect ; you will discover how wonderfully small trifling 
 expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern 
 what might have been, and may for the future be sav 
 ed, 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 mid frugality ; that is, waste nei 
 ther timt nor money, but make the best use of both. 
 
S78 ESSAYS. 
 
 Without industry and frugality no&ing.^iil do, and 
 with them every thing. He that gets all he can hon 
 estly, and- saves all he gets, (necessary expenses ex- 
 cepted,) 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, 
 
 NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE THAT WOULD 
 BE RICH. 
 
 WRITTEN ANNO 1736. 
 
 The use of money is all the advantage there is ID 
 .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 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 shil 
 lings 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 be 
 comes old, will amount to a considerable sum of 
 money. f 
 
 Again : he that sells upon credit, asks a price 
 what he sells equivalent to the principal and interest 
 of his money for the time he is to be kept out ot it ; 
 .herefore^he that buys upon credit, pays interest tor 
 
ESSAYS. 179 
 
 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 meney, escapes, or may escape, 
 that charge. 
 
 A penny sav d is twopence clear ; 
 A pin a day s a groat a year. 
 
 THE WAY TO MAKE .MONEY PLENTY IN EVERY 
 MAN S POCKET. 
 
 At this time, when the general complaint is that 
 "money is scarce," it will be an act of kindness to 
 inform the moneyless how they may 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 com 
 panions ; 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 w r ith the empty belly 
 ache : neither will creditors insult thee, nor want op 
 press, nor hunger bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. 
 The whole hemisphere will shine brighter, and plea 
 sure spring up in every corner of thy heart. Now, 
 therefore, embrace these rules and be happy. Banish 
 
180 ESSAYS. 
 
 the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, and live in- 
 dependent. 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 readiest the even 
 ing hour for rest. Let honesty be as the breath of 
 thy soul, and never forget to have a penny, w r hen all 
 thy expenses are enumerated and paid ; then shalt 
 thou reach the ppint of happiness, and independence 
 shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and crown ; 
 then shall thy soul walk upright, nor stoop to the silk 
 en wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse 
 because the hand which offers it wears a ring set with 
 diamonds. 
 
 AN ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 
 
 [A Translation of this Letter appeared in one of the Daily 
 Papers of Paris about the year 1784. The following is the 
 Original Piece, with some additions and corrections made 
 iu it by the Author.] 
 
 TO THE AUTHORS OF THE JOURNAL. 
 
 Messieurs, 
 
 You often entertain us with accounts of new dis 
 coveries. Permit me to communicate to the pub 
 lic, 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 in 
 troduced, and much admired for its splendor ; but a 
 
ESSAYS. 181 
 
 general inquiry was made, whether the oil it consum 
 ed, was not in proportion to the light it afforded, in 
 which case there would be no saving in the use of it. 
 No one present could satisfy us in that point, which all 
 agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable 
 thing to lessen, if possible, the expense of lighting our 
 apartments, when every other article of family ex 
 pense was so much augmented. 
 
 I was pleased to see this general concern for cecono- 
 my ; for I love oeconomy exceedingly. 
 
 I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after 
 midnight, with my head full of the subject. An acci 
 dental sudden noise waked me about six in the morn 
 ing, 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 
 yp and looked out to see what might be the occasion of 
 it, when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, 
 from whence he poured his rays plentifully into my 
 chamber, my domestic having negligently omitted the 
 preceding evening to close the shutters. 
 
 I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and 
 found that it was but six o clock ; and still thinking it 
 something extraordinary that the sun should rise 
 so early, 1 looked into the almanac ; where I found 
 it to be the hour given for his rising on that day. I 
 looked forward too, and found he was to rise still earlier 
 every day till towards the end of June ; and that at 
 no time in the year he retarded his rising so long as 
 till eight o clock. Your readers, who with me have 
 never seen any signs of sunshine before noon, and sel 
 dom 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 con 
 vinced of this. I am certain of the fact. One cannot 
 be more certain of any fact. I saw it witl* my own 
 16 
 
163 ESSAYS. 
 
 eyes. And having repeated this observation the thre?. 
 following mornings, I found always precisely the same 
 result. 
 
 Yet so it happens, that when I speak of this discov 
 ery to others, I can easily perceive by their counte 
 nances, 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 circumst.mce 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 with 
 out ; and that of consequence, my windows being ac 
 cidentally 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 puz 
 zled 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 beer 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 fol 
 lowing night by candle light ; and the latter being a 
 much more expensive light than the former, my love 
 of O3conr ; my induced me to muster up what little arith 
 metic 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 inven 
 tion, and that a discovery which can be applied to no 
 vse, or is not good for something, is good for nothing. 
 
 I took for the basis of my calculation the supposi 
 tion that there are 100,000 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 mode 
 rate allowance, taking one family with another j fgr 
 
ESSAYS. 163 
 
 though I believe some consume less, I know that many 
 consume a great deal more. Then estimating seven 
 hours per diy, 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 twen 
 tieth of March and the twentieth of 
 September, there are nights 183 
 
 Hours of each night in which we burn 
 
 candles - 7 
 
 Multiplication gives for the total number 
 
 of hours * - 1,281 
 
 These 1,281 hours multiplied by 
 100,000, the number of inhabitants, 
 give - 128,100,000 
 
 One hundred twenty-eight millions 
 and one hundred thousand hours, 
 spent at Paris by candle-light, 
 which, at half a pound of wax 
 and tallow per hour, gives the weight 
 of 64,050,000 
 
 Sixty-four millions and fifty thousand 
 of pounds, which estimating the 
 whole at the medium price of thirty 
 sols the pound, makes the sum of 
 ninety-six millions and seventy-five 
 thousand Hvres tournois 93,075,000 
 
 An immense sum! that the city of Paris might 
 save every yeur, by the oeconomy of using sunshine 
 instead of candles. 
 
 If it should be said, that the people are apt to be ob 
 stinately attached to old customs, and that it will be 
 difficult to induce them to rise before noon, conse 
 quently my discovery can be of little use ; I answer, 
 JWZ desperandum. I believe all who have common 
 
*34 ESSAYS. 
 
 sense, as soon as they have learnt from this paper that 
 it is flay-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, OK 
 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 oeconomical in burn 
 ing wood ; that is, let guards be placed in the shops 
 of the wax and tallow chandlers, and no family be per 
 mitted to be supplied with more than one pound of 
 candles per week. 
 
 Third. Let guards be posted to stop all the coaches, 
 &c. that would pass the streets after sun-set, except 
 those of physicians, surgeons, and midwives. 
 
 Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, 
 let all the bells in every church be set ringing ; and if 
 that is not sufficient, let cannon be fired in every street, 
 and wake the sluggards effectu .lly, 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 qut 
 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, hav 
 ing 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 ceconomical pro 
 ject. You may observe, that J 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 
 
ESSAYS. 185 
 
 cheaper for the ensuing winter, and continue 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 lit 
 tle 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, al 
 manacs 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 ancients 
 knew it, it must have long since been 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, judi 
 cious, and prudent a people as exist any where in the 
 world, all professing, like myself, to be lovers of ceco- 
 nomy ; and, from the many heavy taxes required from 
 them by the necessities of the state, have surely rea 
 son to be oeconomical. I say it is impossible that so 
 sensible a people, under such circumstances, should 
 have lived so long by the smoky, unwholesome, and 
 enormously expensive light of 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, 
 
 16 * 
 
186 ESSAYS. 
 
 ON MODERN INNOVATIONS IN THE ENGLISH 
 LANGUAGE, AND IN PRINTING. 
 
 TO NOAH WEBSTER, JUN. ESft, AT HARTFORD. 
 
 Philadelphia, Dec. 26, 1789. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I received, some time since, your Dissertations on 
 the English Language. It is an excellent work, and 
 will be greatly useful in turning the thoughts of our 
 countrymen to correct writing. Please to accept my 
 thanks for it, as well as for the great honor you have 
 done me in its dedication. I ought to have made 
 this acknowledgement sooner, but much indisposition 
 prevented me. 
 
 I cannot but applaud your zeal for preserving the 
 purity of our language both in its expression and pro 
 nunciation, and in correcting the popular errors, se 
 veral of our states are continually falling into with re 
 spect to both. Give me leave to mention some of 
 them, though possibly they may already have occur 
 red to you. I wish, however, thatinsome future pub 
 lication of yours you would set a discountenancing 
 mark upon them. The first I remember, is the word 
 improved. When I left New-England in the year 1 723, 
 this word had never been used among us, as far as I 
 know, but in the sense of ameliorated, or mstde letter y 
 except once in a very old book of Dr. Mather s, enti 
 tled, Remarkable Providences. As that man wrote a 
 very obscure hand, I remember that when I read that 
 word in his book, used instead of the word employed, 
 I conjectured that it was an error of the printer, who 
 had mistaken a short I in the writing for an r, and a y 
 with too short a tail for a v, whereby employed was 
 converted into improved ; but when I returned to Bos 
 ton in 1733, I found this change had obtained favour, 
 
ESSAYS. 187 
 
 and was then become common ; for I met with it often 
 in perusing the newspapers, where it frequently made 
 an appearance rather ridiculous. Such, for instance, 
 as the advertisement of a country house to be sold, 
 which had been many years improved as a tavern ; 
 and in the character of a deceased country gentleman, 
 that he had been, for more th:m thirty years, improved 
 as a justice of the peace. This use of the word im 
 prove is peculiar to New-England, and not to be met 
 with among any other speakers of English, either on 
 this or the other side of the water. 
 
 During my late absence in France, I find that sev 
 eral other new words have been introduced into our 
 parliamentary language. For example, I find a verb 
 formed from the substantive notice. I should not have 
 noticed this were it not that the gentleman, 4*c. Also 
 another verb, from the substantive advocate; The 
 gentleman who advocates, or who has advocated that 
 motion, 4*c. Another frojaa the substantive progress, 
 the most awkward and abominable of the three : The 
 committee having progressed , resolved to adjourn. The 
 word opposed, though not a new word, I find used in a 
 new manner, as, The gentlemen who are opposed to 
 this measure, to which I have also myself always been 
 opposed. If you should happen to be of my opinion 
 with respect to these innovations, you will use your 
 authority in reprobating them. 
 
 The Latin language, long the vehicle used in dis 
 tributing knowledge among the different nations of 
 Europe, is daily more and more neglected ; and one 
 of the modern tongues, viz. French, seems in point of 
 universality, to have supplied its place. It is spoken 
 in all the courts of Europe ; and most of the literati, 
 those even who do not speak it, have acquired know 
 ledge of it, to enable them easily to read the books 
 that are written in it. This gives a considerable ad 
 vantage to that nation. It enables its authors to incul 
 cate aad spread through other Rations, such sentiments 
 
188 ESSAYS. 
 
 and opinions, on important points, as are most condu 
 cive to its interests, or which may contribute to its re 
 putation, by promoting the common interests of man 
 kind. It is, perhaps, owing to its being written in 
 French, that Voltaire s Treatise on Toleration has had 
 so sudden and so great an effect on the bigotry of Eu 
 rope, as almost entirely to disarm it. The general 
 use of the French language has likewise a very advan 
 tageous effect on the profits of the bookselling branch 
 of commerce, it being well known, that the more co 
 pies can be sold that are struck off from one composi 
 tion of types, the profits increase in a much greater 
 proportion than they do in making a greater number 
 of pieces in any other kind of manufacture. And at 
 present there is no capital town in Europe without a 
 French bookseller s shop corresponding with Paris. 
 Our English bids fair to obtain the second place. The 
 great body of excellent printed sermons in our lan 
 guage, and the freedom of .our writings on political 
 subjects, have induced a great number of divines of 
 different sects and nations, as well as gentlemen con 
 cerned in public affairs to study it, so far at least as to 
 read it. And if we were to endeavor the facilitating 
 its progress, the study of our tongue might become 
 much more general. Those who have employed some 
 part of their time in learning a new language, must 
 have frequently observed, that while their acquaint 
 ance with it was imperfect, difficulties, small in them 
 selves, operated as great ones in obstructing their pro 
 gress. A book, for example, ill printed, or a pronun 
 ciation in speaking not well articulated, would render 
 a sentence unintelligible, which from a clear print, or a 
 distinct speaker, would have been immediately com 
 prehended. If therefore, we would have the benefit 
 of seeing our language more generally known among 
 mankind, we should endeavour to remove all the dif 
 ficulties, however small, that discourage the learning 
 of it. But I am sorry to observe, that of late year?, 
 
ESSAYS. 189 
 
 those difficulties, instead of being diminished, have 
 been augmented. 
 
 In examining the English books that were printed 
 between the restoration and the accession of George 
 the second, we may observe, that all substantives were 
 begun with a capital, in which we imitated our mother 
 tongue, the German. This was more particularly 
 useful to those who were not well acquainted with the 
 English, there being such a prodigious number of our 
 words that are both verbs and substantives, and spelt 
 in the same manner, though often accented differently 
 in pronunciation. This method has, by the fancy of 
 printers, of late years, been entirely laid aside ; from 
 an idea, that suppressing the capitals shews the cha 
 racter to greater advantage ; those letters, prominent 
 above the line, disturbing its even regular appearance. 
 The effect of this change is so considerable, that a learn 
 ed man in France, who used to read our books, though 
 not perfectly acquainted with our language, in conver 
 sation with me on the subject of our authors, attribut 
 ed the greater obscurity he found in our modern books, 
 compared with those written in the period above men 
 tioned, to change of style for the worse in our writers ; 
 of which mistake I convinced him, by marking for him 
 each substantive with a capital, in a paragraph, which 
 he then easily understood, though before he could not 
 comprehend it. This shews the inconvenience of 
 that pretended improvement. 
 
 From the same fondness for an uniform and even 
 appearance of characters in the line, the printers have 
 of late banished also the Italic types, in which words 
 of importance to be attended to in the sense of the 
 sentence, and words on which an emphasis should be 
 put in reading, used to be printed. And lately another 
 fancy has induced other printers to use the round s 
 instead of the long one, which formerly served well 
 to distinguish a word readily by its varied appearance. 
 Certainly the omitting ttyis prominent letter noakes q 
 
190 ESSAYS. 
 
 line appear more even, but renders it less immediate 
 ly legible ; as the paring of all men s noses might 
 smooth, and level their faces, but would render their 
 physiognomies less distinguishable. Add to all these 
 improvements backwards, another modern fancy, that 
 grey printing is more beautiful than black. Hence 
 the English new books are printed in so dim a charac 
 ter, as to be read with difficulty by old eyes, unless in 
 a very strong light and with good glasses. Whoever 
 compares a volume of the Gentleman s Magazine, 
 printed between the years 1731 and 1740, with one of 
 those printed in the last ten years, will be convinced of 
 the much greater degree of perspicuity given by black 
 than by the grey. Lord Chesterfield pleasantly re 
 marked this difference to Faulkener, the printer of the 
 Dublin Journal, who was vainly miking encomiums 
 on his own paper, as the most complete of any in the 
 world. " But Mr. Faulkener," says my lord, " don t 
 you think it might be still farther improved by using 
 paper and ink not quite so near of a colour." For 
 all these reasons I cannot but wish that our American 
 printers would, in their editions, avoid these fancied 
 improvements, and thereby render their works more 
 agreeable to foreigners in Europe, to the great advan 
 tage of our bookselling commerce. 
 
 Farther, to be more sensible of the advantage of 
 clear and distinct printing, let us consider the assist 
 ance it affords in reading well aloud to an auditory. 
 In so doing the eye generally slides forward three or 
 four words before the voice. If the sight clearly dis 
 tinguishes what the coming words are, it gives time to 
 order the modulation of the voice, to pxpress them 
 properly. But if they are obscurely printed, or dis 
 guised by omitting the capitals and long/ s, or other 
 wise, the reader is apt to modulate wrong, and finding 
 he has done so, he is obliged to go back and begin the 
 sentence again ; which lessens the pleasure of the 
 hearers. This leads me to mention an old error m 
 
ESSAYS. m 
 
 <rar mode of printing. We are sensible that when a 
 question is met with in the reading, there is a proper 
 variation to be used in the management of the voice. 
 We have, therefore, a point, called an interrogation, 
 affixed to the question, in order to distinguish it. But 
 this is absurdly placed at its end, so that the reader 
 does not discover it till he finds that he has wrongly 
 modulated his voice, and is therefore obliged to begin 
 again the sentence. To prevent this, the Spanish 
 printers, more sensibly, phce an interrogation at the 
 beginning as well as at the end of the question. We 
 have another error of the same kind in printing plays, 
 where something often occurs that is marked as spoken 
 aside. But the word aside is placed at the end of the 
 speech, when it ought to precede it, as a direction to 
 the reader, that he may govern his voice accordingly. 
 The practice of our ladies in meeting five or six to 
 gether, to form little busy parties, where each is em 
 ployed in some useful work, while one reads to them, 
 is so commendable in itself, that it deserves the atten 
 tion of authors and printers to make it as pleasing as 
 possible, both to the reader and hearers. 
 
 My best wishes attend you, being, with sincere es 
 teem, Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient and 
 
 very humble servant, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE HIGHEST COURT OF JU 
 DICATURE IN PENNSYLVANIA. 
 
 viz. 
 THE COURT OF THE PRESS. 
 
 POWER OF THIS COURT. 
 
 It may receive and promulgate accusations of all 
 kindg, against all persons and characters among tlie 
 
192 ESSAYS, 
 
 the citizens of the state, and even against all inferior 
 courts ; and may judge, sentence, and condemn to in 
 famy, not only private individuals, but public bodies, 
 &c. with or without inquiry or hearing, at the court s 
 discretion. 
 
 Whose favor, or for whose emoluments this Court is 
 established. 
 
 In favor of about one citizen in five hundred, who, 
 by education, or practice in scribbling, has acquired a 
 tolerable style as to grammar and construction, so as 
 to bear printing ; or who is possessed of a press and 
 a few types. This five hundredth part of the citi 
 zens have the privilege of accusing and abusing the 
 other four hundred and ninety-nine parts at their plea 
 sure : or they may hire out their pens and press to 
 others, for that purpose. 
 
 Practice of this Court. 
 
 It is not governed by any of the rules of the com 
 mon courts of law. The accused is allowed no grand 
 jury to judge of the truth of the accusation before it 
 is publicly made ; nor is the name of the accuser 
 made known to him ; nor has he an opportunity of 
 confronting the witnesses against him, for they are 
 kept in the dark, as in the Spanish court of inquisition. 
 Nor is there any petty jury of his peers sworn to try 
 the truth of the charges. The proceedings are also 
 sometimes so rapid, that an honest good citizen may 
 find himself suddenly and unexpectedly accused, and 
 in the same morning judged and condemned, and sen 
 tence pronounced against him that he is a rogue and a 
 Tillian. Yet if an officer of this court receives the 
 slightest check for misconduct in this his office, he 
 claims immediately the rights of a free citizen by the 
 constitution, and demands to know his accuser, to con 
 front the witnesses, and to have a fair trial by a jury 
 of his peers. 
 
ESSAYS. 198 
 
 The foundation of its authority. 
 It is said to be founded on an article in the state con 
 stitution, which establishes the liberty of the press u 
 liberty which every Pennsylvania!! would fight and aie 
 for though few of us, I believe, have distinct ideas oi 
 its nature and extent. It seems, indeed, somewhat 
 like the liberty of the press that felons have ; by the 
 common law of England before conviction ; that is, 
 to be either pressed to death or hanged. If by the 
 liberty of the press, were understood merely the liberty 
 of discussing the propriety of public measures and 
 political opinions, let us have as much of it as you 
 please ; but if it means the liberty of affronting, ca 
 lumniating;, and defaming one another, I, for my part, 
 own myself willing to part with my share of it, when 
 ever our legislators shnll please so to alter the l>vw : 
 and shall cheerfully consent to exchange my liberty 
 of abusing others, for the privilege of not being abus 
 ed myself. 
 By whom this court is commissioned or constituted. 
 
 It is not any commission from the supreme execu 
 tive council, who might previously judge of the abili 
 ties, integrity, knowledge, &c. of the persons to be 
 appointed to this great trust of deciding upon the cha 
 racters and good feme of the citizens : for this court 
 is above that council, and may accuse, judge, and con 
 demn it at pleasure. Nor is it heredit try, as is the 
 court of dernier resort in the peerage of England. 
 But any man who can procure pen, ink, and paper, 
 with a press, a few types, and a huge pair of blacking 
 balls, may commissionate himself, and his court is 
 immediately established in the plenary possession and 
 exercise of its rights. For if you make the least 
 complaint of the judge s conduct, he daubs his black 
 ing balls in your f ice wherever he meets you, and be 
 sides tearing your private character in splinters, marks 
 17 
 
194 ESSAYS. 
 
 you out for the odium of the public, as an enemy to 
 the liberty of the press. 
 
 Of the natural support of this court. 
 
 Its support is founded in the depravity of such 
 minds as have not been mended by religion, nor im 
 proved by good education. 
 
 There is a lust in man no charm can tame, 
 Of loudly publishing his neighbour s shame. 
 Hence, 
 
 On eagles wings, immortal, scandals fly, 
 While virtuous actions are but born and die. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 Whoever feels pain in hearing a good character of 
 his neighbor, will feel a pleasure in the reverse. And 
 cf those who, despairing to rise to distinction by their 
 virtues, are happy if others can be depressed to a level 
 with themselves, there are a number sufficient in 
 every great town to maintain one of these courts by 
 their subscription. A shrewd observer once said, that 
 in walking in the streets of a slippery morning, one 
 might see where the good natured people lived, by the 
 ashes thrown on the ice before the doors ; probably he 
 would have formed a different conjecture of the tem 
 per of those whom he might find engaged in such sub 
 scriptions. 
 
 Of the checks proper to be established against the abuses 
 of power in these courts. 
 
 Hitherto there are none. But since so much has 
 been written and published on the federal constitution ; 
 and the necessity of checks, in all other parts of good 
 government, has been so clearly and learnedly explain 
 ed, I find myself so far enlightend as to suspect some 
 check may be proper in this part also ; but 1 have been 
 at loss to imagine any that may not be construed an 
 infringement of the sacred liberty of the press. At 
 iength, however, I think I have found one, that instead 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 of diminishing general liberty, shall augment it ; which 
 is, by restoring to the people a species of liberty, of 
 which they have been deprived by our laws, I mean 
 the liberty of the cudgel ! In the rude state of society 
 prior to the existence of laws, if one man gave anoth 
 er ill-language, the affronted person might return it 
 by a box on the ear ; and if repeated, by a good drub 
 bing : and this without offending against any law ; but 
 now the right of making such returns is denied, and 
 they are punished as breaches of the peace, while the 
 right of abusing seems to remain in full force ; the 
 laws made against it being rendered ineffectual by 
 the liberty of the press. 
 
 My proposal then is, to leave the liberty of the 
 press untouched, to be exercised in its full extent, 
 force, and vigour, but to permit the liberty of the 
 cudgel to go with it, paripassu. Thus, my fellow-citi- 
 vens, if an imprudent writer attacks your reputation- 
 dearer perhaps to you than your life, and puts his 
 name to the charge, you may go to him as openly and 
 break his head. If he conceals himself behind the 
 printer, and you can nevertheless discover who he is, 
 you may in like manner, waylay him in the night, at 
 tack him behind, and give him a good drubbing. If 
 your adversary hires better writers than himself, to 
 abuse you more effectually, you may hire brawny por 
 ters, stronger then yourself, to assist you in giving 
 him a more effectual drubbing. Thus far goes my 
 project, as to private resentment and retribution. But 
 if the public should ever happen to be affronted, as it 
 ought to be with the conduct of such writers, I would 
 not advise proceeding immediately to these extremi 
 ties, but that we should in moderation content our 
 selves with tarring and feathering, and tossing them 
 in a blanket. 
 
 If, however, it should be thought that this propo 
 sal of mine may disturb the public peace, I would then 
 humbly recommend to our legislatures, to take up th 
 
t9fl ESSAYS. 
 
 consideration of both liberties, that of the press, no 
 that of the cudgel : and by an explicit law mark their 
 extent and limits : and at the same time that they se 
 cure the person of a citizen from assaults, they would 
 likewise provide for the security of his reputation. 
 
 PAPER. A POEM. 
 
 Some wit of old such wits of old there were 
 Whose hints show d meaning, whose illusions care. 
 By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, 
 Call d clear blank paper ev ry infant mind ; 
 When still, as on ning 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 band-box were his dwelling-place ; 
 He s the gill 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 prizM, more useful, for yoar 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 r .-lifer, to enrich an heir, 
 Is coarse brown paper ; such as pedlars choose 
 To wrap up ware*, which better men will ust 
 
ESSAYS, 197 
 
 Take next the Miser s contrast, who destroys 
 Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. 
 Will any paper match him ? Yes, thro out, 
 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. 
 
 17 * 
 
198 ESSAYS. 
 
 ON THE ART OF SWIMMING. 
 
 iy ANSWER TO SOME INQUIRIES OF M. DUBOURG* ON 
 THE SUBJECT. 
 
 I am apprehensive that I shall not be able to find 
 leisure for making all the disquisitions and experi 
 ments which would be desirable on this subject. I 
 must, therefore, content myself w r ith a few remarks. 
 
 The specific gravity of some human bodies, in 
 comparison to that of water, has been examined by M. 
 Robinson, in our Philosophical Transactions, volume 
 50, page 30, for the year 1757. He asserts, that fat 
 persons with small bones float most easily upon water. 
 
 The diving bell is accurately described in our 
 transactions. 
 
 When 1 was a boy, I made two oval pallets, each 
 about ten inches long, and six broad, with a hole for 
 the thumb, in order to retain it fast in the palm of my 
 hand. They much resemble a painter s pallets. In 
 swimming I pushed the edges of these forward, and I 
 struck the water with their flat surfaces as I drew them 
 back. 1 remember I swam faster by means of these 
 pallets, but they fatigued my w r rists. I also fitted to 
 the soles of my feet a kind of sandals ; but I was not 
 satisfied with them, because I observed that the stroke 
 is partly given with the inside of the feet and the an 
 cles, and not entirely with the soles of the feet. 
 
 We have here waistcoats for swimming, which are 
 made of double sail-cloth, with small pieces of cork 
 quilted in between them. 
 
 I know nothing of the scaphandre of M. de la Cha- 
 pelle. 
 
 I know by experience that it is a great comfort to a 
 swimmer, who has a considerable distance to go, to 
 turn himself sometimes on his back, and to vary in 
 other respects the means of procuring a progressive 
 motion. 
 
 * Translator of Dr, Franklin s Works into French* 
 
ESSAYS. 199 
 
 When he is seized with the cramp in the leg, the 
 method of driving it away is to give to the parts affect 
 ed a sudden, vigorous, and violent shock ; which he 
 may do in the air as he swims on his back. 
 
 During the great heats of summer there is no danger 
 in bathing, however warm we may be, in rivers which 
 have been thoroughly warmed by the sun. But to 
 throw one s self into cold spring water, when the body 
 has been heated by exercise in the sun, is an impru 
 dence which may prove fatal. I once knew an instance 
 of four young men, who having worked at harvest m 
 the heat of the day, with a review of refreshing them 
 selves plunged into a spring of cold water : two died 
 upon the spot, a third the next morning, and the fourth 
 recovered with great difficulty. A copious draught 
 of cold water, in similar circumstances, is frequently 
 attended with the same effect in North America. 
 
 The exercise of swimming is one of the most 
 healthy and agreeable in the world. After having 
 swam for an hour or two in the evening, one sleeps 
 coolly the whole night, even during the most ardent 
 heat of summer. Perhaps the pores being cleansed, 
 the insensible perspiration increases and occasions this 
 coolness. It is certain that much swimming is the 
 means of stopping a diarrhoea, and even of producing 
 a constipation. With respect to those who do not 
 know how to swim, or who are affected with a diarrhoea 
 at a season which does not permit them to use that ex 
 ercise, a warm bath, by cleansing and purifying the 
 skin, is found very salutary, and often effects a radical 
 cure. I speak from my own experience, frequently 
 repeated, and that of others to whom I have recom 
 mended this. 
 
 You will not be displeased if I conclude these hasty 
 remarks by informing you, that as the ordinary me 
 thod of swimming is reduced to the act of rowing with 
 the arms and legs, and is consequently a laborious and 
 fatiguing operatJQn when the space of water to be 
 
200 ESSAYS. 
 
 crossed is considerable ; there is a method in which a 
 swimmer may pass with facility, to great distances by 
 means of a sail. This discovery I fortunately made 
 by accident, and in the following manner. 
 
 When I was a boy I amused myself one day with 
 flying a paper kite ; and approaching the bank of a 
 pond, which was near a mile broad, I tied the string 
 to a stake, and the kite ascended to a very considera 
 ble height above the pond,, while I was swimming. In 
 a little time, being desirous of amusing myself with my 
 kite, and enjoying at the same time the pleasure of 
 swimming, I returned ; and loosing from the stake 
 the string with the little stick which was fastened to it 
 went again into the water, where I found, that, lying 
 on my back and holding the stick in my hands, 1 was 
 drawn along the surface of the water in a very agreea 
 ble manner. Having then engaged another boy to 
 carry my clothes round the pond, to a place which I 
 pointed out to him on the other side, I began to cross 
 the pond with my kite, which carried me quite over 
 without the least fatigue, and with the greatest plea 
 sure imaginable. I was only obliged occasionally to 
 halt a little in my course, and resist its progress, when 
 it appeared that, by fallowing too quick, I lowered the 
 kite too much ; by doing which occasionally I made it 
 rise again I have never since that time practised this 
 singular mode of swimming, though I think it not im 
 possible to cross in this manner from Dover to Calais. 
 The packet-boat, however, is still preferable. 
 
 NEW MODE OF BATHING. 
 
 EXTRACTS OF LETTERS TO M. DUBOURG. 
 
 London, July 28, 1768. 
 
 I greatly approve the epithet you give, in your 
 letter of the 8th of June, to the new method OA 
 
ESSAYS. 201 
 
 treating the small-pox, which you call the tonic or bra 
 cing method : I will take occasions from it, to men 
 tion a practice to which I have accustomed myself. 
 You know the cold bath has long been in vogue here 
 as a tonic ; but the shock of the cold water has always 
 appeared to me, generally speaking, as too violent, 
 and I have found it much more agreeable to my con 
 stitution to bathe in another element, I mean cold air. 
 With this view I rise early almost every morning, and 
 sit in my chamber, without any clothes whatever, half 
 an hour or an hour, according to the season, either 
 reading or writing. This practice is not in the least 
 painful, but on the contrary, agreeable ; and if I re 
 turn to bed afterwards, before I dress myself, as 
 sometimes happens, I make a supplement to my 
 night s rest of one or two hours of the most pleasing 
 sleep that can be imagined. I find no ill consequences 
 whatever resulting from it, and that at least it does 
 not injure my health, if it does not in fact contribute 
 much to its preservation. I shall therefore call it for 
 the future a bracing or tonic bath. 
 
 March 10, 1773. 
 
 I shall not attempt to explain why damp clothes oc 
 casion colds, rather than wet ones, because I doubt 
 the fact : I imagine that neither the one nor the other 
 contribute to this eifect ; and that the causes of colds 
 are totally independent of wet and even of cold. 1 pro 
 pose writing a short paper on this subject, the first 
 leisure moment I have at my disposal. In the mean 
 time I can only say, that having some suspicions that 
 the common notion, which attributes to cold the pro 
 perty of stopping the pores and obstructing perspira 
 tion, was ill-founded, I engaged a young physician, 
 who is making some experiments with Sanctorious s 
 balance, to estimate the different proportions of his 
 perspiration when remaining one hour quite naked, 
 
KSSAYS 
 
 and another warmly clothed. He pursued the experi 
 ment in this alternate manner for eight hours suc 
 cessively, and found his perspiration almost double 
 during those hours in which he was naked. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS ON THE GENERALLY PREVAIL- 
 VAILING DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Your observations on the causes of death, and the 
 experiments which you propose for recalling to life 
 those who appear to be killed by lightning, demon 
 strate equally your sagacity and humanity. It ap 
 pears that the doctrines of life and death, in general, 
 are yet but little understood. 
 
 A toad, buried in sand, will live, it is said, until the 
 sand becomes petrified ; and then, being inclosed in 
 the stone, it may still live for we know not how many 
 ages. The facts which are cited in support of this 
 opinion, are too numerous and too circumstantial not 
 to deserve a certain degree of credit. As we are ac 
 customed to see all the animals with which we are ac 
 quainted eat and drink, it appears to us difficult to con 
 ceive how a toad can be supported in such a dungeon. 
 But if we reflect, that the necessity of nourishment, 
 which animals experience in their ordinary state, pro 
 ceeds from the continual waste of their substance by 
 perspiration : it will appear less incredible that some 
 animals in a torpid state, perspiring less because they 
 use no exercise, should have less need of aliment ; 
 and that others, which are covered with scales or 
 shells, which stop perspiration, such as land and sea 
 turtles, serpents, and some species offish, should be 
 able to subsist a considerable time without any nourish- 
 
ESSAYS. :$3 
 
 merit whatever. A plant, with its flower?, fades and 
 dies immedi-ttely, if exposed to the air without having 
 its roots immersed in a humid soil, from which it may 
 draw a sufficient quantity of moisture, to supply that 
 which exhales from its substance, and is carried off 
 continually by the air. Perhaps, however, if it were 
 buried in quicksilver, it might preserve, for a conside 
 rable space of time, its vegetable life, its smell and co 
 lour. If this be the case, it might prove a commo 
 dious method of transporting from distant countries 
 those delicate plants which are unable to sustain the in 
 clemency of the weather at sea, and which require 
 particular care and attention. 
 
 I have seen an instance of common flies preserved 
 in a manner somewhat similar. They had been 
 drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the time 
 when it was bottled in Virginia, to be sent to London. 
 At the opening of one of the bottles at the house of a 
 friend where I was, three drowned flies fell into the 
 first glass which was filled. Having heard it remark 
 ed that drowned flies were capable of being revived by 
 the rays of the sun, I proposed making the experiment 
 upon these. They were therefore exposed to the sun 
 upon a sieve which had been employed to strain them 
 out of the wine. In less than three hours two of them 
 beg;m by degrees to recover life. They commenced 
 by some convulsive motions in the thighs, and at length 
 they raised themselves upon their legs, wiped their 
 eyes with their forefeet, beat and brushed their wings 
 with their hind feet, and soon after began to fly, find 
 ing themselves in Old England, without knowing how 
 they came thither. The third continued lifeless until 
 sun-set, when, losing all hopes of him, he was thrown 
 away. 
 
 I wish it were possible, from this instance, to invent 
 ft method of embalming drowned persons, in such a 
 mannc<- th: t they might be recalled to life at any pe 
 riod, however distant j for having a very ardent desire 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 to see and observe the state of America an hundred 
 years hence, I should prefer to an ordinary de-ith, the 
 being immersed in a cask of Madeira wine, with a few 
 friends, until that time, then to be recalled to life by 
 the solar warmth of my dear country ! But, since, in 
 all probability, we live in an age too early, and top 
 near the infancy of science, to see such an art brought 
 in our time to its perfection, I must for the present, 
 content myself with the treat, which you are so kind 
 as to promise me, of the resurrection of a fowl or a 
 turkey-cock. 
 
 PRECAUTIONS TO BE USED BY THOSE WHO ARE ABOUT 
 TO UNDERTAKE A SEA VOYAGE. 
 
 When you intend to take a long voyage, no 
 thing is better than to keep it a secret till the 
 moment of your departure. Without this you ivill be 
 continually interrupted and tormented by visits from 
 friends and acquaintances, who not only make you 
 lose your valuable time, but make you forget a thou 
 sand things which you wish to remember ; so that 
 when you are embarked, and fairly at sea, you recol- 
 lest, with much uneasiness, affairs which you have 
 not terminated, accounts that you have not settled., 
 and a number of things which you proposed to carry 
 with you, and which you find the want of every mo 
 ment. Would it not be attended with the best conse 
 quences to reform such a custom, and to suffer a trav 
 eller, without deranging him, to make his preparations 
 in quietness, to set apart a few days, when these are 
 finished, to take leave of his friends, and to receive 
 their good wishes for his happy return ? 
 
 It is not always in one s power to choose a captain ; 
 though great part of the pleasure and happiness of the 
 passage depends upon this choice, and though one 
 
must for a time be confined to his company, and be in 
 some measure under his command. If he is a social 
 sensible man, obliging, and of a good disposition, you 
 will be so much the happier. One sometimes meets 
 with people of this description, but they are riot com 
 mon ; however, if yours be not of this number, if he 
 be a good seaman, attentive, careful, and active in the 
 management of his vessel, you may dispense with the 
 rest, for these arc the most essential qualities. 
 
 Whatever right you may have by your agreement 
 with him, ib the provisions he has taken on board for 
 the use of the passengers, it is always proper to have 
 some private store, which you may make use of occa 
 sionally- You ought, therefore, to provide good wa 
 ter, that of the ship being often bad ; but you must 
 put it into bottles, without which you cannot expect to 
 preserve it sweet. You ought also to c;irry with you 
 good tea, ground coffee, chocolate, wine of the sort 
 you like best, cider, dried raisins, almonds, sugar, 
 capilluire, citrons, rum, eggs dipped in oil, portable 
 soup, bread twice baked. With regard to poultry, it 
 is almost useless to carry any with you, unless you re 
 solve to undertake the office of feeding and fattening 
 them yourself. With the little care which is taken of 
 them on board ship, they are almost all sickly, and 
 their flesh is as tough as leather. 
 
 All sailors entertain an opinion, which has undoubt 
 edly originated formerly from a want of water, and when 
 it has been found necessary to be sparing of it, that 
 poultry Hiever know when they have drank enough ; 
 and that when water is given them at discretion, they 
 generally kill themselves by drinking beyond mea 
 sure. In consequence of this opinion, they give 
 them water only once in two days, and even then in 
 small quantities : but as they pour this water into 
 troughs inclining on one side, which occasions it to rim 
 to the lower part, it thence happens that they are ob- 
 !<ged to mount one upon the back of another in order 
 18 
 
30$ ESSAYS. 
 
 to reach it ; and there are some which cannot evn 
 dip their beaks in it. Thus continually tantalized and 
 tormented by thirst, they are unable to digest their 
 food, which is very dry, and they soon fall sick and 
 die. Some of them are found thus every morning, 
 and are thrown into the sea ; whilst those which are 
 killed for the table are scarcely fit to be eaten. To 
 remedy this inconvenience, it will be necessary to di 
 vide their troughs into small compartments, in such 
 a manner that each of them may be capable of contain 
 ing water ; but this is seldom or never clone. On this 
 account, sheep and hogs are to be considered as the 
 best fresh provision that one can have at sea ; mutton 
 there being in general very good, and pork excellent. 
 
 It may happen that some of the provisions and stores 
 which I have recommended may become almost use 
 less, by the care which the captain has taken to lay in 
 a proper stock ; but in such a cr.se you may dispose of 
 it to relieve the poor passengers, who, paying les for 
 their passage, are stowed among the common sailors, 
 and have no right to the captain s provisions, except 
 such part of them as is used for feeding the crew. 
 These passengers are sometimes sick, melancholy, 
 and dejected ; and there are often women and children 
 among them neither of whom have any opportunity of 
 procuring those things which 1 have mentioned, and of 
 which, perhaps, they have the greatest need. By 
 distributing among them a part of your superfluity, you 
 may be of the greatest assistance to them. You may 
 restore their health, save their lives, and in short ren 
 der them happy ; which always affords the liveliest 
 sensation to a feeling mind. 
 
 The most disagreeable thing at sea is the cookery ; 
 for there is not, properly speaking, any professed cook 
 on board. The worst sailor is generally chosen for 
 that purpose, who for the most part is equally dirty. 
 Hence comes the proverb used among the English 
 sailors, that God sends meat, and the devil sends cooks, 
 
ESSAYS. "207 
 
 Those, however, who have a better opinion of provi 
 dence, will think otherwise. Knowing that sea air, 
 rind the exercise or motion which they receive from 
 the rolling of the ship, have a wonderful effect in 
 whetting the appetite, they will say that Providence 
 has given sailors bad cooks to prevent them from eat 
 ing too much ; or that knowing they would have 
 bad cooks, he has given them a good appetite to pre 
 vent them from dying with hunger. However, if you 
 have no confidence in these succours of Providence, 
 you may yourself, with a lamp and a boiler, by the 
 help of a little spirits of wine, prepare some food, 
 such us soup, harsh, &c. A small oven made of tin- 
 plate is not a bad piece of furniture ; your servant may 
 roast in it a piece of mutton or pork. If you are ever 
 tempted to eat salt beef, which is often very good, 
 you will find that cider is the best liquor to quench the 
 thirst generally caused by salt meat or salt fish. Sea- 
 biscuit which is too hard for the teeth of some people, 
 may be softened by steeping it ; but bread double-ba 
 ked is the best, for being made of good loaf-bread cut 
 into slices, and baked a second time, it readily imbibes 
 water, becomes soft, and is easily digested ; it conse 
 quently forms excellent nourishment, much superior 
 to that of biscuit, which has not been fermented. 
 
 I must here observe, that this double-baked bread 
 was originally the real biscuit prepared to keep at 
 sea ; for the word biscuit, in French, signifies twice, 
 baked.* Pease often boil badly, and do not become 
 soft ; in such a case, by putting a two-pound shot into 
 the kettle, the rolling of the vessel, by njeans of this 
 bullet will convert the pease into a kind of porridge, 
 like mustard. 
 
 Having often seen soup, when put upon the table at 
 sea in broad flat dishes, thrown out on every side by 
 the rolling of the vessel, I have wished that our tin 
 men would make our soup-basons with divisions or 
 
 * It is derived from bis again, and cuit baked. 
 
203 ESSAYS. 
 
 compartments forming small plates, proper for COM* 
 taining soup for one person only. By this disposi 
 tion, the soup, in an extraordinary roll, would not be 
 thrown out of the plate, and would not fall into the 
 breasts of those who are at table, and scald them. Hav 
 ing entertained you with these things of little impor 
 tance, permit me now to conclude with some-general 
 reflections upon navigation. 
 
 When navigation is employed only for transporting 
 necessary provisions, from one country, where the^y 
 abound, to another where they are wanting ; when by 
 this it prevents famines, which were so frequent and 
 so fatal before it was invented and became so common ; 
 we cannot help considering it as one of those arts 
 which contribute most to the happiness of mankind. 
 But when it is employed to transport things of no utili 
 ty, or articles merely of luxury, it is then uncertain 
 whether the advantages resulting from it are sufficient 
 to counterbalance the misfortunes it occasions, by ex 
 posing the lives of so many individuals upon the vast 
 ocean. And when it is used to plunder vessels and 
 transport slaves, it is evidently only the dreadful 
 means of increasing those calamities which afflict hu 
 man nature. 
 
 One is astonished to think on the number of vessels 
 nnd men who are daily exposed in going to bring tea 
 from China, coffee from Arabia, and sugar and tobuco, 
 from America ; all which commodities our ancestors 
 lived very well without. The sugar trade employs 
 nearly a thousand vessels ; and that of tobacco almost 
 the same number. With regard to the utility of to 
 bacco, littV 3 can be said; and with regard to sugar 
 how much more meritorious would it be to sacrifice 
 the momentary pleasure which we receive from drink 
 ing it once or twice a day in our tea, than to encour 
 uge the numberless cruelties that are continually ex 
 ercised in order to procure it us ! 
 
 A celebrated French moralist said, that when lit 
 considered the wars which we foment hi Africa to get 
 
ESSAYS. 209 
 
 negroes, the great number who of course perish in 
 these wars ; the multitude of those wretches, who die 
 on their passage, by disease, bad air, and bad pro 
 visions ; and lastly, how many perish by the cruel 
 treatment they meet with in a state of slavery ; when 
 he saw a bit of sugar, he could not help imagining it 
 to be covered with spots of human blood. But, hud 
 he added to these considerations the wars which we 
 carry on against one another, to take and ret tke the 
 islands that produce this commodity, he would not 
 have seen the sugar simply spotted with blood, he 
 would have beheld it entirely tinged with it. 
 
 These wars make the maritime powers of Europe, 
 and the inhabitants of Paris and London, pay much 
 dearer for their sugar than those of Vienna, though 
 they are almost three hundred leagues distant from the 
 sea. A pound of sugar, indeed, costs the former 
 not only the price which they give for it, but also what 
 they pay in taxes, necessary to support those fleets 
 and armies which serve to defend and protect the 
 countries that produce it. 
 
 ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, AND INDUSTRY. 
 
 xROM A LETTER TO BENJAMIN VACGH, ES&.* WRITTEN 
 
 IN 1784. 
 
 It is wonderiul how preposterously the affairs of this 
 world are managed. Naturally one would imagine 
 that the interest of a few individuals should give way 
 to general interest ; but individuals manage their af 
 fairs with so much more application, industry and ad 
 dress, than the public do theirs, that general interest 
 most commonly gives way to particular. We assen>- 
 
 * A member of Parliament for the borough of Calne, in 
 Wiltshire, between whom and our author there subsisted a 
 very close friendship, 
 
 18 * 
 
210 ESSAYS. 
 
 blc parliaments and councils, to have the benefit of 
 their collected wisdom ; but we necessarily have, at 
 the same time, the inconvenience of their collected 
 passions, prejudices, and private interests. By the 
 help of these, artful men overpower their wisdom, 
 and dupe its possessors ; and if we may judge by the 
 acts, arrets, and edicts, all the world over, for regu 
 lating commerce, an assembly of great men is the 
 greatest fool upon earth. 
 
 I have not yet, indeed, thought of a remedy for lux 
 ury. I am not sure that in a great state it is capable of 
 a remedy ; nor that the evil is in itself always so great 
 as it is represented. Suppose we include in the defini 
 tion of luxury all unnecessary expense, and then let us 
 consider whether laws to prevent such expense are 
 possible to be executed in a great country, and whether, 
 if they could be executed, our people generally would 
 be happier or even richer. Is not the hope of being 
 one day able to purchase and enjoy luxuries, a great 
 spur to labor and industry? May not luxury, there 
 fore, produce more than it consumes, if, without such 
 a spur, people would be, as they are naturally enough 
 inclined to be lazy and indolent ? To this purpose I 
 remember a circumstance. The skipper of a shallop, 
 employed between Cape-May and Philadelphia, had 
 done us some small service, for which he refused to be 
 paid. My wife understanding that he had a daughter, 
 sent her a present of a new-fashioned cap. Three 
 years after, this skipper being at my house with an 
 old farmer of Cape-May, his passenger, he mentioned 
 the cap, and how much his daughter had been pleased 
 with it. " But (said he) it proved a dear cap to our 
 congregation," "How so ?" " When my daughter 
 appeared with it at meeting, it was so much admired, 
 that all the girls resolved to get such caps from Phila 
 delphia ; and my wife and I computed that the whole 
 could not have cost less than an hundred pounds." 
 " True, (said the farmer,) but you do not tell all the 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 >rory. I think the cap was nevertheless an advantage 
 to us ; for it was the first thing that put our girls upon 
 knitting worsted rniUens for sale at Philadelphia, that 
 they might h;>vj \vhercwithalto buy caps and ribbons 
 there ; and you know that that industry has continued, 
 and is likely to continue and increase to a much great 
 er value, and answer better purposes." Upon the 
 whole, I was -more reconciled to this little piece of 
 luxury, since not only the girls were made happier by 
 tine caps, but the Philadelphians by the supply of warm 
 mittens. 
 
 In our commercial towns upon the sea-coasts, for 
 tunes will occasionally be made. Some of those who 
 grow rich will be prudent, live within bounds, and pre 
 serve what they have gained for their posterity ; others 
 fond of shewing their wealth, will be extravagant and 
 ruin themselves. Laws cannot prevent this ; and per 
 haps it is not always an evil to the public. A shilling 
 spent idly by a fool, may be picked up by a wiser per 
 son, who knows better what to do with it. It is there 
 fore not lost. A vain, silly fellow builds a fine house, 
 furnishes it richly, lives in it expensively, and in a few 
 years ruins himself: but the masons, carpenters, 
 smiths, and other honest tradesmen, have been by his 
 employ assisted in maintaining and raising their fami 
 lies ; the farmer has been paid for his labour and en 
 couraged, and the estate is now in better hands. In 
 some cases, indeed, certain modes of luxury may be a 
 public evil, in the same manner as it is a private one. If 
 there be a nation for instance, that exports its beef and 
 linen, to pay for the importation of claret and porter, 
 while a great part of its people live upon potatoes, and 
 wear no shirts : wherein does it differ from the sot 
 who lets his family starve, and sells his clothes to buy 
 drink? Our American commerce is, I confess, a lit 
 tle in this way. We sell our victuals to the islands for 
 rum and sugar ; the substantial necessaries of life, 
 for superfluities. But we have plenty, and live well 
 
212 ESSAYS. 
 
 nevertheless, though, by being sober, we might be 
 richer. 
 
 The vast quantity of forest land we have yet to 
 clear, and put in order for cultivation, will for a long 
 time keep the body of our nation laborious and frugal. 
 Forming an opinion of our people and their manners, 
 by what is seen among the inhabitants of the sea-ports, 
 is judging from an improper sample. The people of 
 the trading towns may be rich and luxurious, while the 
 country possess all the virtues that tend to promote 
 happiness and public prosperity. Those towns are not 
 much regarded by the country : they are hardly con 
 sidered as an essential part of the states ; and the ex 
 perience of the last war has shewn, that their being in 
 possession of the enemy did net necessarily draw on 
 the subjection of the country ; which bravely continu 
 ed to maintan its freedom and independence notwith 
 standing. 
 
 It has been computed by some political arithmeti 
 cian, that if every man and woman would work for 
 four hours each day on something useful, that labour 
 would produce sufficient to procure all the necessaries 
 and comforts of life ; want and misery would be ban 
 ished out of the world, and the rest of the twenty-four 
 hours might be leisure and pleasure. 
 
 What occasions then so much want and misery ? It 
 is the employment of men and women in works that 
 produce neither the necessaries or conveniences of 
 life, who, with those that do nothing, consume neces 
 saries raised by the laborious. To explain this : 
 
 The first elements of wealth are maintained by la 
 bour, from the earth and waters. I have land , and raise 
 corn. With this, if I feed a family that does nothing, 
 my corn will be consumed, and at the end of the year 
 1 shall be no richer than I was at the beginning. But it 
 Awhile I feed them, I employ them, some in spinning, 
 others in making bricks, &c. for building, the value of 
 my corn will be arrested and remain with me, and at 
 
ESSAYS. x!iS 
 
 .be end of the year we may be all better cloatlied and 
 better lodged. And if, instead of employing a man I 
 feed in making bricks, I employ him in fiddling for me, 
 the corn he eats is gone, and no part of his manufac 
 ture remains to augment the wealth and convenience 
 of the family ; I shall therefore be the poorer for this 
 fiddling man, unless the rest of my family work more 
 or cat less, to make up the deficiency he occasions. 
 
 Look round the world, and see the millions employ 
 ed in doing nothing, or in something that amounts to 
 nothing, when the necessaries and conveniences of life 
 are in question. -What is the bulk of commerce, for 
 which we fight and destroy each other, but the toil of 
 millions for superfluities, to the great hazard and loss 
 of many lives, by the constant dangers of the sea ? 
 How much labour is spcntin building and fitting great 
 ships to go to China and Arabia for tea and coffee, to 
 the West Indies for sugar, to America for tobacco ? 
 These things cannot be called the necessaries of life, 
 for our ancestors, lived very comfortably without 
 them. 
 
 A question may be asked : Could all these people now 
 employed in raising, making, or carrying superfluities 
 be subsisted by raising necessaries ? I think they 
 might. The world is large, and a great part of it un 
 cultivated. Many hundred millions of acres in Asia, 
 Africa, and America, are still in a forest ; and a great 
 deal even in Europe. On a hundred acres of this fo 
 rest, a man might become a substantial farmer ; and a 
 hundred thousand men employed in clearing each his 
 hundred acres, would hardl y brighten a spot big enough 
 to be visible from the rnoon, unless with HerscheFs 
 telescope, so vast are the regions still in wood. 
 
 It is however some comfort to reflect, that, upon the 
 whole, the quantity of industry and prudence among 
 mankind exceeds the quantity of idleness and folly. - 
 Hence the increase of good buildings, farms cultivated, 
 /.!<* populous cities filled with wealth, all over Europe 
 
.214 ESSAYS. 
 
 which a few ages since were only to be found on the 
 coasts of the Mediterranean ; and this notwithstanding 
 the mad wars continually raging, by which are often 
 destroyed in one year the works of many years peace. 
 So that we may hope, the luxury of a few merchants 
 en the coast will not be the ruin of America. 
 
 One reflection more, and I will end this long ramb 
 ling letter. Almost all the parts of our bodies require 
 some expense. The feet demand shoes ; the legs 
 stockings ; the rest of the body clothing ; and the belly 
 a^good deal of victuals. Our eyes, though exceedingly 
 useful, ask, when reasonable, only the cheap assist 
 ance of spectacles, which could not much impair our 
 finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes 
 that ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should 
 want neither fine clothes, fine houses, nor fine furni 
 ture. 
 
 ON THE SLAVE TRADE. 
 
 Reading in the newspapers, the speech of Mr. 
 Jackson in Congress, against meddling with the af 
 fair of slavery, or attempting to mend the condition 
 of slaves, it put me in mind of a similar speech, made 
 about an hundred years since, by Sidi Mehemet Ibra 
 him, a member of the Divan of Algiers, which may 
 be seen in Martin s account of his consulship, 1G87. 
 It was against granting the petition of the sect called 
 Erika or Purists, who prayed for the abolition of pira 
 cy and slavery, as being unjust. Mr. Jackson does 
 not quote it ; perhaps he has not seen it. If therefore 
 some of its reasonings are to be found in his eloquent 
 speech, it may only shew that men s interests operate, 
 and are operated on. with surprising similarity, in all 
 countries and climates, whenever they are under sinv 
 
ESSAYS. 21ft 
 
 ilar circumstances . The African speech, as translat 
 ed, is as follows : 
 
 " Alia Bismillah, Sac. God is great, and Mahomet 
 is his prophet. 
 
 Have these Erika considered the consequences of 
 granting their petition ? If we cease our cruises against 
 the Christians, how shall we be furnished with the 
 commodities their countries produce, and which are 
 so necessary for us ? If we forbear to make slaves of 
 their people, who, in this hot climate, are to cultivate 
 our lands ? Who are to perform the common labours 
 of our city, and of our families ? Must we not then be 
 our own slaves ? And is there not more compassion 
 and more favor due to us Mussulmen than to those 
 Christian dogs ? We have now above fifty thousand 
 slaves in and near Algiers. This number, if not kept 
 up by fresh supplies, will soon diminish, and be gradu 
 ally annihilated. If, then, we cease taking and plun 
 dering the infidel ships, and making slaves of the sea 
 men and passengers, our lands will become of no 
 value, for want of cultivation ; the rents of houses in 
 the city will sink one half; and the revenues of govern 
 ment, arising from the share of prizes, must be total 
 ly destroyed. And for what ? To gratify the whim 
 of a whimsical sect, who would have us not only for 
 bear making more slaves, but even manumit those we 
 have. But who is to indemnify their masters for the 
 loss ; will the state do it ? Is our treasury sufficient ? 
 Will the Erika do it ? Can they do it ? Or would they, 
 to do what they think justice to the slaves, do a great 
 er injustice to the owners ? And if we set our slaves 
 free what is to be done with them ? Few of them 
 will return to their native countries ! they know too 
 well the greater hardships they must there be subject 
 to. They will not embrace our holy religion : they 
 will not adopt our manners ; our people will not pol 
 lute themselves by intermarrying with them. Must 
 we maintain them as beggars in our streets ? or suffer 
 
21U L1SSAY5. 
 
 ur properties to be the prey of their pillage ? for met; 
 accustomed to slavery, will not work for a livelihood, 
 when not compelled. And what is there so pitiable iu 
 their present condition ? Were they not slaves in 
 their own countries ? Are not Spain, Portugal, France, 
 and the Italian states governed by despots who hold 
 all their subjects in slavery, without exception ? Even 
 England treats her sailors as slaves, for they are, when 
 ever the government pleases, seized and confined in 
 ships of war, condemned, not only to work, but to 
 fight for small wages, or a mere subsistence, not bet 
 ter than our slaves are allowed by us. Is their con 
 dition then made worse by their falling into our hands ? 
 No : they have only exchanged one slavery for an 
 other ; and I may say a better : for here they are 
 brought into a land where the sun of Islamism gives 
 forth its light, and shines in full splendour, and they 
 have an opportunity of making themselves acquainted 
 with the true doctrine, and thereby saving their im 
 mortal souls. Those who remain at home, have not 
 that happiness. Sending the slaves home, then, would 
 be sending them out of light into darkness. 
 
 " I repeat tKe question, what is to be done with 
 them ? I have heard it suggested, that they may be 
 planted in the wilderness, where there is plenty of 
 land for them to subsist on, and where they may flour 
 ish as a free state. But they are, I doubt, too little 
 disposed to labor without compulsion, as well as too 
 ignorant to establish good government : and the wild 
 Arabs would soon molest and destroy, or again enslave 
 them. While serving us, we take care to provide 
 them with every thing ; and they arc treated with 
 humanity. The labourers in their own countries, are, 
 as I am informed, worse fed, lodged, and clothed. The 
 condition of most of them is therefore already mended, 
 and requires no farther improvement. Here their 
 lives are in safety. They are not liable to be impress 
 ed for soldiers, and forced to cut one another s Chris- 
 
ESSAYS. 217 
 
 tian throats as in the wars of their own countries. If 
 some of the religious mad bigots who now tease us 
 with their silly petitions, have, in a fit of blind zeal, 
 freed their slaves, it was not generosity, it was not hu 
 manity that moved them to the action ; it was from 
 the conscious burthen of a load of sins, and hope, from 
 the supposed merits of so good a work, to be excused 
 from damnation. How grossly are they mistaken in im 
 agining slavery to be disavowed by the Alcoran ! Are 
 not the two precepts, to quote no more, " Masters, 
 treat your slaves with kindness Slaves, serve your 
 masters with cheerfulness and fidelity," clear proofs to 
 the contrary ? Nor can the plundering of infidels be in 
 that sacred book forbidden : since it is well known 
 from it, that God has given the world, and all that it 
 contains, to his faithful Miisselmen, who are to enjoy 
 it, of right, as fast as they can conquer it. Let us 
 then hear no more of this detestable proposition, the 
 manumission of Christian slaves, the adoption of which 
 would be depreciating our lands and houses, and there 
 by depriving so many good citizens of their properties, 
 create universal discontent, and provoke insurrections, 
 to the endangering of government, and producing ge 
 neral confusion. I have, therefore, no doubt that this 
 wise council will prefer the comfort and happiness of a 
 whole nation of true believers, to the whim of a few 
 Erika, and dismiss their petition." 
 
 The result was, as Martin tells us, that the Divan 
 came to this resolution : " That the doctrine, that the 
 plundering and enslaving the Christians is unjust, is at 
 best problematical ; but that it is the interest of this 
 state to continue the practice is clear ; therefore, let 
 
 the petition be rejected." And it was rejected 
 
 accordingly. 
 
 And since like motives are apt to produce, in the 
 minds of men, like opiniens and resolutions, may we 
 not venture to predict, from this account, that the peti 
 tions to the parliament of England for abolishing the 
 19 
 
218 ESSAYS. 
 
 slave-trade, to say nothing of other legislatures and the 
 debates upon them, will have a similar conclusion 
 
 HISTORICUS. 
 
 Blarch 23, 1790. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS ON WAR. 
 
 By the original law of nations, war and extirpation 
 were the punishment of injury. Humanizing by de 
 grees, it admitted slavery instead of death : a farther 
 step was the exchange of prisoners instead of slavery : 
 another, to respect more the property of private per 
 sons under conquest, and be content with acquired 
 dominion. Why should not this h w of nations go on 
 improving ? Ages have intervened between its se 
 veral steps : But as knowledge of late increases ra 
 pidly, why should not those steps be quickened ? 
 Why should it neft be agreed to, as the future law of 
 nations, that in any war hereafter the following descrip 
 tion of men should be undisturbed, have the protec 
 tion of both sides, and be permitted to follow their 
 employments in security 1 viz. 
 
 1. Cultivators of the earth, because they labour for 
 the subsistence of mankind. 
 
 2. Fishermen, for the same reason. 
 
 3. Merchants and traders in unarmed ships, who ac 
 commodate different nations by communicating and 
 exchanging the necessaries and conveniences of life. 
 
 4. Artists and mechanics, inhabiting and working 
 in open towns. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to add, that the hospitals of 
 enemies should be unmolested they ought to be as 
 sisted. It is for the interest of humanity in general, 
 that the occasions of war, and the inducements to it, 
 should be diminished. If rapine be abolished, one of 
 the encouragements to war is taken away ; and peace 
 therefore more likely to continue and be lasting, 
 
ESSAYS. 219 
 
 The practice of robbing merchants on the high seas, 
 a remnant of the ancient piracy, though it may be ac 
 cidentally beneficial to particular persons, is far from 
 being profitable to all engaged in it, or to the nation 
 that authorises it. In the beginning of a war some rich 
 ships are surprised and taken. This encourages the 
 first adventurers to fit out more armed vessels ; and 
 many others to do the same. But the enemy at the 
 same time become more careful ; arm their merchant 
 ships better, and render them not so easy to be taken ; 
 they go also more under the protection .of convoys. 
 Thus while the privateers to take them are multi 
 plied, the vessels subject to be taken, and the chances 
 of profit are diminished : so that many cruises are 
 made, wherein the expenses overgo the gains ; and, 
 as is the case in other lotteries, though particulars 
 have got prizes, the mass of adventurers are losers, 
 the whole expense of fitting out all the privateers du 
 ring a war being much greater than the whole amount 
 of goods taken. 
 
 Then there is the national loss of all the labour of so 
 many men during the time they have been employed 
 in robbing ; who besides spend what they get in riot, 
 drunkenness and debauchery ; lose their habits of in 
 dustry ; are rarely fit for any sober business afterra 
 peace, and serve only to increase the number of high 
 waymen and house-breakers. Even the undertakers 
 who have been fortunate, are, by sudden wealth, led 
 into expensive living, the habit of which continues 
 when the means of supporting it cease, and finally 
 ruins them : a just punishment for having wantonly 
 and unfeeliegly ruined many honest, innocent traders 
 and their families, whose substance was employed in 
 serving the common interest of mankind. 
 
:- 20 ESSAYS. 
 
 ON THE IMPRESS OF SEAMEN. 
 
 Notes copied from Dr. Franklin s writing in pencil in the mar 
 gin of Judge Foster s celebrated argument in favour of thi- 
 Impressing of Seamen, (published in the folio edition 01 
 his works.) 
 
 Judge Foster, p. 158. Every man." The 
 conclusion here from the whole to a part, does nof 
 seem to be good logic. If the alphabet should sny. 
 Let us all fight for the defence of the whole ; that "is 
 equal, and may therefore be just. But if they should 
 say, Let A, B, C, and D go out and fight for us, while 
 we stay at home and sleep in whole skins ; that is not 
 equal, and therefore cannot be just. 
 
 /6. "Employ." If you please. The word signi 
 fies engaging a man to work for me, by offering him 
 such wages as are sufficient to induce him to prefer 
 my service. This is very different from compelling 
 him to work on such terms as I think proper. 
 
 Ib. " This service and employment, &c." These 
 are false facts. His employments and service are not 
 the same Under the merchant he goes in an unarmed 
 vessel, not obliged to fight, but to transport merchan 
 dize. In the king s service he is obliged to fight, and 
 to hazard all the dangers of battle. Sickness on board 
 of king s ships is also more common and more mortal. 
 The merchant s service too he can quit at the end of 
 the voyage ; not the king s. Also, the merchant s 
 wages are much higher. 
 
 Ib. "I am very sensible, &c." Here are two 
 things put in comparison that are not comparable : viz. 
 injury to seamen, and inconvenience to trade. Incon 
 venience to the whole trade of a nation will not justify 
 injustice to a single seaman. If the trade would suffer 
 without his service, it is able and ought to be willing 
 to offer him such wages as may induce him to afford 
 his service voluntarily. 
 
ESSAYS. . 221 
 
 Page 159. " Private mischief must be borne with 
 patience, for preventing a national calamity." Where 
 is this maxim in law and good policy to be found ? And 
 how can that be a maxim which is not consistent with 
 common sense ? If the maxim had been, that private 
 mischiefs, which prevent a national calamity, ought 
 to be generously compensated by the nation, one might 
 understand it : but that such private mischiefs are 
 only to be borne with patience, is absurd ! 
 
 /6. " The expedient, &c. And, &c." (Paragraphs 
 2 and 3.)-Twenty ineffectual or inconvenient schemes 
 will not justify one that is unjust. 
 
 Ib. " Upon the foot of, &c." Your reasoning, in 
 deed, like alie, stands but upon one foot ; truth upon 
 two. 
 
 Page 160. " Full wages." Probably the same they 
 had in the merchant s service. 
 
 Page 174. " I hardly admit, &c." (Paragraph 5.) 
 When this author speaks of impressing, page 158, he 
 diminishes the horror of the practice as much as pos 
 sible, by presenting to the mind one sailor only suffer 
 ing hardship (as he tenderly calls it) in some particular 
 cases only : and he places against this private mischief 
 the inconvenience to the trade of the kingdom. But 
 if, as he supposes is often the case, the sailor who is 
 pressed, and obliged to serve for the defence of trade, 
 at the rate of twenty-five shillings a month, could get 
 three pounds fifteen shillings in the merchant s service, 
 you take from him fifty shillings a month ; and if you 
 have a 100,000 in your service, you rob this honest 
 industrious part of society, and their poor families, of 
 250,OOOJ. per month, or three millions a year, and at 
 the same time oblige them to hazard their lives in 
 lighting for the defence of your trade ; to the defence 
 of which all ought indeed to contribute (and sailors 
 among the rest) in proportion to their profits by it ; 
 but this three millions is more than their share, if they 
 19 * 
 
222 ESSAYS. 
 
 did not pay with their persons ; but when you force 
 that, methinks you should excuse the other. 
 
 But it m.iy be said, to give the king s seamen mer 
 chant s wages would cost the nation too much, and call 
 for more taxes. The question then will amount to 
 this : whether it be just in a community, that the rich 
 er part should compel the poorer to fight in defence of 
 them and their properties, for such wages as they think 
 fit to allow, and punish them if they refuse ? Our au 
 thor tells us that it is " legal." I have not law enough 
 to dispute his authorities, but I cannot persuade my 
 self that it is equitable. I will, however, own for the 
 present, that it may be lawful when necessary ; but 
 then I contend that it may be used so as to produce 
 the same good effects the public security, without do 
 ing so much intolerable injustice as attends the im 
 pressing common seamen. In order to be better un 
 derstood, I would premise two things ; First, that vo 
 luntary seamen may be had for the service, if they 
 were sufficiently paid. The proof is, that to serve in 
 the same ship, and incur the same danger, you have 
 no occasion to impress captains, lieutenants, second 
 lieutenants, midshipmen, pursers, nor many other of 
 ficers. Why, but that the profits of their places, or 
 the emoluments expected, are sufficient inducements ? 
 The business then is, to find money, by impressing, 
 sufficient to make the sailors all volunteers, as well as 
 their officers ; and this without any fresh burthen upon 
 trade. The second of my premises is, that twenty- 
 five shillings a month, with his share of salt beef, pork, 
 and pease pudding, being found sufficient for the sub 
 sistence of a hard working seaman, it will certainly be 
 so for a sedentary scholar or gentleman. I would 
 then propose to form a treasury, out of which encour 
 agements to seamen should be paid. To fill this trea 
 sury, I would impress a number of civil officers, who 
 at present have great salaries, oblige them to serve m 
 their respective offices for twenty-five shillings a 
 
ESSAYS. 233 
 
 month, with their shares of mess provisions, and throw 
 the rest of their s il iries into the seamen s treasury. 
 If such a press-warrant were given me to execute, the 
 first I would press should be a Recorder of Bristol, or 
 a Mr. Justice Foster, because I might have need of 
 his edifying example, to show how much impressing 
 ought to be borne with ; for he would certainly find, 
 that though to be reduced to twenty-five shillings a 
 month might be a private mischief, yet that, agreeably 
 to his maxim of law and good policy, it ought to be 
 borne with patience, for preventing a national calamity. 
 Then I would press the rest of the Judges ; and, 
 opening the red book, I would press every civil officer 
 of government from 50/. a year salary, up to 50,000/. 
 which would throw an immense sum into our treasu 
 ry ; and these gentlemen could not complain, since 
 they would receive twenty-five shillings a month, and 
 their rations : and this without being obliged to fight. 
 Lastly, I think I would impress * * * * 
 
 ON THE CRIMINAL LAWS, AND THE PRACTICE 
 OF PRIVATEERING. 
 
 LETTER TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ. 
 
 March 14th, 1785. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 Among the pamphlets you lately sent me, was one 
 entitled Thoughts on Executive Justice. In return for 
 that, I send you one on the same subject, Observations 
 cojicernant V Execution de V Article IL de la Declara 
 tion sur le Vol. They are both addressed to the Judges, 
 and written, as you will see, in a very different spirit. 
 The English author is for hanging all thieves. The 
 Frenchman is for proportioning punishments to of 
 fences, 
 
24 ESSAYS. 
 
 If we really believe, as we profess to believe, that 
 the hw of Moses was the law of God, the dictates of 
 divine wisdom, infinitely superior to hurmn ; on what 
 principles do we ordain death as the punishment of an 
 offence, which according to that law, was only to be 
 punished by a restitution of four-fold ? To put a man 
 to death for an offence which does not deserve death, 
 is it not a murder ? And as the French writer says, 
 Doit-on pueir un delit contre la societe par un crime 
 contre la nature ? 
 
 Superfluous property is the creature of society. 
 Simple and mild laws were sufficient to guard the 
 property that was merely necessary. The savages 
 bow, his hatchet, and his coat of skins, were sufficient 
 ly secured, without law, by the fear of personal re 
 sentment and retaliation. When, by virtue of the 
 first laws, part of the society accumulated wealth, and 
 grew powerful, they enacted others more severe, and 
 would protect their property at the expense of humani 
 ty. This was abusing their power, and commencing 
 a tyranny. If a savage, before he entered into society, 
 had been told " Your neighbour by this means, may 
 become owner of an hundred deer ; but if your brother, 
 or your son, or yourself, having no deer of your own, 
 and being hungry, should kill one, an infamous death 
 must be the consequence :" he w 7 ould probably have 
 prefered his liberty, and his common right of killing 
 any deer, to all the advantages of society that might 
 be proposed to him. 
 
 That it is better a hundred guilty persons should 
 escape, than that one innocent person^should suffer, is 
 a maxim that has been long and generally approved ; 
 never, that I know of, controverted. Even the san 
 guinary author of the thoughts agrees to it, adding 
 well, " that the very thought of injured innocence, and 
 much more that of suffering innocence, must awaken 
 all our tenderestand most compassionate feelings, and 
 at the same time raise our highest indignation against 
 
ESSAYS. %Z.j 
 
 the instruments of it. But," he adds, " there is no 
 danger of either from a strict adherence to the laws." 
 Really ! Is it then impossible to make an unjust 
 law ? and if the law itself be unjust, may it not be the 
 very " instrument" Avhich ought " to raise the author s 
 and every body s highest indignation ?" I see in the 
 last newspapers from London, that a woman is capital 
 ly convicted at the Old Bailey, for privately stealing 
 out of a shop some gauze, value fourteen shillings and 
 three-pence : Is there any proportion between the 
 injury done by a theft, value fourteen shillings and 
 three-pence, and the punishment of a human creature 
 by death on a gibbet ? Might not that woman, by her 
 labour have made the reparation ordained by God, in 
 paying fourfold ? Is riot all punishment inflicted be 
 yond the merit of the offence, so much punishment of 
 innocence ? In this light, how vast is the annual quan 
 tity, of not only injured but suffering innocence, in al 
 most all the civilized states of Europe ! 
 
 But it seems to have been thought that this kind of 
 innocence may be punished by way of preventing 
 crimes. I have read, indeed, of a cruel Turk in Bar- 
 bary, who, whenever he bought a new Christian slave 
 ordered him immediately to be hungup by the legs, and 
 to receive a hundred blows of a cudgel on the soles of 
 his feet, that the severe sense of the punishment, and 
 fear of incurring it thereafter, might prevent the faull.s 
 that should merit it. Our author himself would hard 
 ly approve entirely of this Turk s conduct in the go 
 vernment of slaves ; and yet he appears to recommend 
 something like it for the government of English sub 
 jects, when he applauds the reply of Judge Barnetto 
 the convict horse-stealer ; who being asked what he 
 had to say why judgment of death should not pass a- 
 gainst him, and answered that it was hard to hang a 
 man for only stealing a horse, was told by the judge, 
 " Man, thou art not to be hanged only for stealing a 
 horse, but that horses may not be stolen." The man s 
 answer, if candidly examined, will, I imagine, appear 
 
226 ESSAYS. 
 
 reasonable, as being founded on the eternal principle 
 of justice and equity, that punishments should be pro 
 portioned to offences, and the judge s reply brutal and 
 unreasonable, though the writer wishes all judges to 
 carry it with them whenever they go to the circuit and 
 to bear it in their minds, as containing a wise reason 
 for all the penal statutes which they are called upon 
 to put in execution. It at once illustrates (says he) the 
 true grounds and reasons of all capital punishments 
 whatsoever, namely, that every man s property, as 
 well as his life, may be held sacred and inviolate. Is 
 there then no difference in value between property 
 and life ? If I think it right that the crime of murder 
 should be punished with death, not only as an equal 
 punishment of the crime, but to prevent other mur 
 ders, does it follow that I must approve of the same 
 punishment for a little invasion on my property by 
 theft? If I am not myself so barbarous, so bloody- 
 minded, and revengeful, as to kill a fellow-creature 
 for stealing from me fourteen shillings and three 
 pence, how can I approve of a law that does it ? Mon 
 tesquieu, who was himself a judge, endeavours to im 
 press other maxims. He must have known what hu 
 mane judges feel on such occasions, and what the ef 
 fects of those feelings : and, so far from thinking that 
 severe and excessive punishments prevent crimes, he 
 asserts, as quoted by our French writer, that 
 
 " L atrocite des loix en empeche T execution. 
 
 " Losque la peine est sans raesure, on est souvent oblige 
 de lui prelerer 1 impunite. 
 
 " La cause des tous les relachemens vict de 1 impunite des 
 crimes et won de la moderation des peines." 
 
 It is said by those who know Europe generally, that 
 there are more thefts committed and punished annually 
 in England than in all the other nations put together. 
 If this be so, there must be a cause or causes for such 
 depravity in our common people. May not one be 
 the deficiency of justice and morality in our national 
 government, manifested in our oppressive conduct to 
 
ESSAYS. 327 
 
 subjects, and unjust wars on our neighbours ? View 
 the Ions; persisted in, unjust, monopolizing treatment, 
 of Ireland, at length acknowledged ! View the plun 
 dering government exercised by our merchants in the, 
 Indies ; the confiscating war made upon the American 
 colonies ; and, to say nothing of those upon France and 
 Spain, view the late war upon Holland, which was seen 
 by impartial Europe in no other light than that of a war 
 of rapine and pillage ; the hopes of an immense and 
 easy prey being its only apparent, and probably its 
 true and real motive and encouragement. Justice is 
 as strictly due between neighbour nations as between 
 neighbour citizens. A highwayman is as much a rob 
 ber when he plunders in a gang, as when single ; and 
 a nation that makes an unjust war is only a great gang. 
 After employing your people in robbing the Dutch, it 
 is strange that, being out of that employ by peace, 
 they still continue robbing, and rob one another ? Pir- 
 aterie, as the French call it, or privateering is the 
 universal bent of the English nation, at home and 
 abroad, wherever settled. No less than seven hundred 
 privateers were, it is said, commissioned in the last 
 war ! These were fitted out by merchants, to prey up 
 on other merchants, who have never done them any in 
 jury. Is there probably any one of those privateering 
 merchants of London, who were so ready to rob the 
 merchants of Amsterdam, that would not as readily 
 plunder another London merchant of the next street, 
 if he could do it with the same impunity ! The avidity, 
 the aliena appetens is the same ; it is the fear alone of 
 the gallows that makes the difference. How then can 
 a nation, which, among the honestest of its people, has 
 so many thieves by inclination, and whose government 
 encouraged and commissioned no less than seven hun 
 dred gangs of robbers ; how can such a nation have 
 the face to condemn the crime in individuals, and 
 hang up twenty of them in a morning ! It naturally 
 puts one in mind of a Newgate anecdote : One of the 
 
i&itt ESSAi S. 
 
 prisoners complained, that in the night somebody had 
 taken his buckles out of his shoes. " What the devil I" 
 says another, " have we then thieves amongst us? It 
 must not be suffered. Let us search out the rogue, 
 and pump him to death." 
 
 There is, however, one late instance of an English 
 merchant who will not profit by such ill-gotten gain. 
 He was, it seems, part owner of a ship, which the other 
 owners thought fit to employ as a letter of marque, 
 and which took a number of French prizes. The 
 booty being shared, he has now an agent here inquir 
 ing, by an advertisement in the Gazette, for those who 
 suffered the loss, in order to make them, as far as in 
 him lies, restitution. This conscientious man is a 
 Quaker. The Scotch presbyterians were formerly 
 as tender ; for there is still an ordinance of the town 
 of Edinburgh, made soon after the reformation, " for 
 bidding the purchase of prize goods, under pain of 
 losing the freedom of the burgh for ever, with other 
 punishments at the will of the magistrate ; the prac 
 tice of making prizes being contrary to a good con 
 science, and the rule of treating Christian brethren 
 as we would wish to be treated ; and such goods are 
 not to be sold by any godly men within this burgh." 
 The race of these godly men in Scotland is probably 
 extinct, or their principles abandoned, since, as far as 
 that nation had a hand in promoting the war against 
 the colonies, prizes and confiscations are believed to 
 have been a considerable motive. 
 
 It has been for some time a generally-received opin 
 ion, that a military man is not to inquire whether a 
 war be just or unjust ; he is to execute his orders. 
 All princes who are disposed to become tyrants must 
 probably approve of this opinion, and be willing to es 
 tablish it ; but is it not a dangerous one ! since, on that 
 principle, if the tyrant commands his army to attack 
 and destroy, not only an unoffending neighbour nation, 
 but even his own subjects, the army is boimd to obey. 
 
ESSAYS. B28 
 
 A negro slave, in our colonies, being commanded by 
 his master to rob or murder a neighbour, or do any 
 other immoral act, may refuse ; and the magistrate 
 will protect him in his refusal. The slavery then of a 
 soldier is worse than that of a negro ! A conscientious 
 officer if not restrained by the apprehension of its be 
 ing imputed to another cause, may indeed resign ra 
 ther than be employed in an unjust war, but the pri 
 vate men are slaves for life, and they are perhaps in 
 capable of judging for themselves. We can only la 
 ment their fate, and still more that of a sailor, who is 
 often dragged by force from his honest occupation, and 
 compelled to imbrue his hands in perhaps innocent 
 blood. But methinks it well behoves merchants (men 
 more enlightened by their education, and perfectly 
 free from any such force or obligation) to consider well 
 of the justice of a war, before they voluntarily engage 
 a gang of ruffians to attack their fellow-merchants of a 
 neighbouring nation, to plunder them of their proper 
 ty, and perhaps ruin them and their families, if they 
 yield it ; or, to wound, maim, and murder them, if 
 they attempt to defend it. Yet these things are done 
 by Christian merchants, whether a war be just or un 
 just : and it can hardly be just on both sides. They 
 are done by English and American merchants, who, 
 nevertheless, complain of private theft, and hang by 
 dozens the thieves they have taught by their own ex 
 ample. 
 
 It is high time, for the sake of humanity, that a 
 stop were put to this enormity. The United States 
 of America, though better situated than any Euro 
 pean nation to make profit by privateering, (most of 
 the trade of Europe, with the West-Indies passing 
 before their doors, ) are, as far as in them lies, en^ 
 deavouring to abolish the practice, by offering, in all 
 their treaties with other powers, an article, engaging 
 solemnly, that, in case of future war, no privateer 
 shall be commissioned on either side ; and that HE 
 20 
 
.1) ESSAYS. 
 
 med merchant ships, on both sides, shall pursue 
 their voyages unmolested.* This will be a happy im 
 provement of the law of nations. The humane and 
 the just cannot but wish general success to the propo 
 sition. 
 
 With unchangeable esteem and affection, 
 
 I am, my dear friend, 
 
 Ever yours. 
 
 * This offer having been accepted by the late king of Prus- 
 aia, a treaty of amity and commerce was concluded between 
 that Monarch and the United States, containing the following- 
 humane, philanthropic article ; in the formation of which Dr. 
 Franklin, as one of the American Plenipotentiaries, was prin 
 cipally concerned, viz. 
 
 ARTICLE XXIII. 
 
 If war should arise between the two contracting parties, 
 the merchants of either country, then residing in the other, 
 shall be allowed to remain nine months to collect their debt?, 
 and settle their affairs, and may depart freely, carrying offal! 
 their effects without molestation or hindrance : and all wo 
 men and children, scholars of every faculty, cultivators of the 
 earth, artisans, manufacturers, and fishermen unarmed and 
 inhabiting unfortified towns, villages, or places, and in gene 
 ral all others whose occupations are for the common subsist 
 ence and benefit of mankind, shall be allowed to continue their 
 respective employments, and shall not be molested in their 
 persons, nor shall their houses or goods be burnt, or otherwise 
 destroyed, nor their fields wasted, by the armed force of the 
 enemy into whose power, by the events of war, they may 
 happen to fall, but if any thing is necessary to be taken from 
 them for the use of such armed force, the same shall be paid 
 for at a reasonable price. And all merchants and trading 
 vessels employed in exchanging the products of different 
 places, and thereby rendering the necessaries, conveniences, 
 and comforts of human life more easy to be obtained, and more 
 general, shall be allowed to pass free and unmolested ; and 
 neither of the contracting powers shall grant or issue any 
 commission to any private armed vessels empowering them 
 to take or destroy such trading vessels, or interrupt such com 
 merce. 
 
ESSAYS. 231 
 
 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 dif 
 ferent nations wtth 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 rude 
 ness. 
 
 The Indian men, when young, are hunters and war 
 riors ; when old, counsellors ; for all their govern 
 ment is by the counsel or advice of sages ; there is no 
 force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel obe 
 dience, or inflict punishment. Hence they generally 
 study oratory ; the best speaker having the most in 
 fluence. The Indian women till 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 wo 
 men are accounted natural and honorable. 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 Pennsylva 
 nia, anno 1744, between the government of Virginia 
 and the Six Nations. After the principal business was 
 settled, the commissioners from Virginia acquainted 
 the Indians by a speech, that there was at Williams- 
 burg 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 polite 
 
ESSAYS, 
 
 aess not to answer a public proposition the same day 
 that it is made ; they think it would be treating it in u 
 light manner ; and they shew it respect by taking time 
 4 ; o consider it, as of a matter important. They there 
 fore deferred their answer till the day following- ; when 
 their speaker began, by expressing their deep sense 
 cf 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 nation? 
 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 counsel 
 lors ; they were totally good for nothing. We are 
 however, not the less obliged by your kind offer, tho 
 we decline accepting it : and to show our grateful sense 
 of it, if the gentlemen of Virginia will send us a dozen 
 of their sons, we will take great care of their educa 
 tion, instruct them in all we know, and make men of 
 them." 
 
 Having frequent occasions to hold public council*, 
 they have acquired great order and decency in con 
 ducting 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 ike we- 
 
ESSAYS, i:.i:.> 
 
 men is to take exact notice of what passes, imprint it 
 in their memories, for they have no writing, and com 
 municate it to their children. They are the records 
 of the council, and they preserve tradition of the stipu 
 lations in treaties a hundred years back ; which, when 
 we compare with our writings, we always find exact. 
 He that would speak, rises. The rest preserve a pro 
 found 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 in 
 terrupt another, even in common conversation, is reck 
 oned 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 diffe 
 rent from the mode of conversation in many polite com 
 panies 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 assert 
 ed 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 misson. The Indians hear 
 with patience the truths of the gospel explained to 
 them, and give their usual tokens of assent and appro 
 bation ; you would think they were convinced. No 
 such matter. It is mere civility. 
 
 A Swedish minister having assembled the chiefs of 
 
 the Susquehannah Indians, made a sermon to them, 
 
 acquainted them with the principal historical facts on 
 
 which our religion is founded ; such as the faJl of our 
 
 20 * 
 
.2^4 ESSAYS. 
 
 ilrst parents by eating an apple ; the coming of Christ 
 to repair the mischief; his miracles and sufferings, 
 &c. When he had finished, an Indian orator stood up 
 to thank him. " What you have told us," says he, 
 * is all very good. It is indeed bad to eat apples. It 
 is better to make them all into cider. We are much 
 obliged by your kindness in coming so far as 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 un 
 successful, they w r ere starving. Two of our young 
 hunters having killed a deer, made a fire in the wood? 
 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 Moun 
 tains. They said to each other, it is a spirit that per 
 haps 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 
 iime, 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, 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 educa- 
 
ESSAYS. 235 
 
 tion ; they have not well instructed you in the rules of 
 common civility. You saw that we, who understand 
 and practise those rules, believed all your stories, why 
 do you refuse to believe ours ?" 
 
 When any of them come into our towns, our people 
 are apt to crowd round them, gaze upon them, and in 
 commode 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 oppor 
 tunities 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 stranger s house. 
 Here they are placed, while the old men go round 
 from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants that stran 
 gers 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 re 
 freshed, pipes and tobacco are brought ; and then, 
 but not before, conversation begins, with inquiries 
 who they are, whither bound, what news, &,c. and it 
 usually ends with offers of service ; if the strangers 
 have occasion for guides, or any necessaries for con 
 tinuing 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 Weiscr, our interpreter, gave me the 
 following instance. He had been naturalized ai 
 
238 ESSAYS 
 
 the Six Nations, and spoke well the Mohock language . 
 In going through the Indian country, to carry a mes 
 sage from our Governor to the Council at Onondas;a 
 he called at the habitation of Canassetego, an old ac 
 quaintance, who embraced him, spreading furs for 
 him to sit on, 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 blan 
 kets, 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. How 
 ever, 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 can 
 not 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 ! can 
 not 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 an 
 grily. I did not understand what he said ; but per 
 ceiving that he looked much at me, and at Hanson, I 
 
ESSAYS. 237 
 
 imagined he was angry at seeing me there : so I went 
 out, sg| 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. 4 Well Hans, said I, I hope you agreed 
 to give more than four shilling a pound. No, says 
 he, I cannot give so much, I cannot give more than 
 three shillings and six-pence. I then spoke to seve 
 ral other dealers, but they ail sung the same song, 
 three and six-pence, three and six-pence. This made 
 it clear to me that my suspicion was right ; and that 
 whatever they pretended of meeting to k learn good 
 things., the purpose was to consult how to cheat In 
 dians 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 ig 
 norant. You know our practice. If a white man, in 
 Travelling through our country, enters one of our ca 
 bins, 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, 
 
 * 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 his relation of his voyage and shipwreck ou the 
 island of Melitia, says, " The barbarous people shewed us no 
 little kindness, for they kindled a lire, and received us every 
 nne, because of the present rain, and because of the cold. 
 This note i? taken from a ^ml 1 collection of Franklin s papers 
 Pillv, 
 
238 ESSAYS- 
 
 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 there 
 fore 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. 
 
 TO MR. DUBOURG, CONCERNING THE DI5SENTIONS 
 BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. 
 
 London, October 2, 1770. 
 
 I see with pleasure that we think pretty much 
 alike on the subject of English America. We of 
 ihe colonies have never insisted that we ought to be ex 
 empt from contributing to the common expenses ne 
 cessary 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 it 
 self 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 fash 
 ion, which we can well do without ; and the resolu- 
 
ESSAYS. v-JiJ 
 
 lion we have formed of importing no more till our 
 grievances are redressed, has enabled many of our in 
 fant 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 thai 
 the parliament of England will finally abandon its 
 present pretensions, and leave us to the peaceable 
 enjoyment of our rights and privileges. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 A COMPARISON OF THE CONDUCT OF THE ANCIENT 
 JEWS, AND OF THE ANTIFEDERALISTS IN THE UNI 
 TED 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 an 
 gel 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 immediate 
 ly 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 per 
 formed by his servant Moses, he personally delivered 
 
240 E^AYS. 
 
 to that chosen servant, in presence of the whole na 
 tion, a constitution and code of laws for their observ 
 ance ; 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 execu 
 tion but by 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 w r ho 
 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, wherever they felt any in 
 convenience or hardship, through the natural and una 
 voidable 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 pro- 
 iitable places would be engrossed by the families and 
 friend? of Moses and Aaron, and others equally well- 
 
 * Numbers, chap. s:v. 
 
ESSAYS. 241 
 
 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 am 
 bitious of the priesthood ; and offended that it was 
 conferred on Aaron ; and this, as he said, by the au 
 thority 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 conspirirfg with 
 Aaron to perpetuate the tyranny in their family. Thus, 
 though Corah s real motive was the supplanting of 
 Aaron, he persuaded the people he meant only the 
 public good ; and they, moved by his insinuations, 
 began to cry out " Let us maintain the common li 
 berty 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 Mo 
 ses ? If we must have a master, it were better to re 
 turn to Pharaoh, who at least fed us with bread and 
 onions, taan to serve this new tyrant, who by his ope 
 rations has brought us into danger or famine." Then 
 they called in question the reality of his conference 
 with God ; and objected to the privacy of the meetings, 
 arid the preventing any of the people from being pre 
 sent at the colloques, or even approaching the place, 
 as grounds of great suspicion. They accused Moses 
 also of pecidation ; as embezzling part of the golden 
 spoons and the silver chargers, that the princes had 
 offered at the dedication of the altar,f and the offering 
 of the gold of the common people,J as well as most of 
 the poll-tax ; and Aaron they accused of pocketing 
 
 * Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 3. " And they gathered thera- 
 ? elves together against Moses and Aaron, and said unto them, 
 ye take too much upon you, seeing all the congregations are 
 holy, every one of Vaem wherefore then lift ye up yourselves 
 above the congregation ?** 
 
 f Numbers, chap. vii. | Exodus, chap. xxxv. ver. 23, 
 Numbers, chap. iii. and Exodus, chap, xxx 
 21 
 
242 ESSAYS. 
 
 much of the gold of which he pretended to haye made 
 a molten calf. Besides peculation, they charged Mo 
 ses with ambition; to gratify which passion, he had, 
 they said, deceived the people, by promising tobrin^ 
 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 this mischief, pro 
 vided 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 
 Aaront was to be followed by a general onej 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 ; arid 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 pre 
 sence of God,) " I have not taken from this people the 
 Falue of an ass, nor done them any other injury." But 
 his enemies had made the charge, and with some suc 
 cess 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, " headingand exciting the mob, worked them 
 up to such a pitch of phrensy, that they called out, 
 stone em, stone em, and thereby secure our liberties ; 
 and let us choose other captains that may lead us back 
 
 * Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 13. u 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 ?" 
 
 t Number?, chap. iii. J Exodus, chap, xxx, 
 
 $ Numbers, chap. xvi. 
 
ESSAYS. 243 
 
 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 
 sufferedittobe worked upon by artful men, pretending 
 public good, with nothing really in view but private in 
 terest, they wer 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 be 
 come old and much abused, that 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 Mes 
 siah, 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 mea 
 sure is no proof of its impropriety, even though the 
 opposition be excited and headed by men of distinc 
 tion. 
 
 To conclude. I beg I may not be understood to in 
 fer, 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 
 novv 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 benificent Ruler, in 
 whom all inferior spirits live, and move, and have 
 their being. 
 
344 ESSAYS. 
 
 THE INTERNAL STATE OF AMERICA, 
 
 iEING 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 civi 
 lized 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 fast 
 ing and prayer. Constant meditation and discourse 
 on these subjects kept their minds gloomy and discon 
 tented ; and, like the children of Israel, there were 
 many disposed to return to that Egypt which persecu 
 tion 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 weaned heaven with their 
 complaints, were not so great as they might ha?*.- 
 expected, and were diminishing every day as the co 
 lony strengthened ; that the earth began to reward 
 their labour, and to furnish liberally for their subsist 
 ence ; that the seas and rivers were found full offish 
 the air sweet, and the climate healthy ; and, above all. 
 that they were there in the full enjoyment of liberty 
 civil and religious ; he therefore thought, that reflect 
 ing 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 be 
 coming the gratitude they owed to the Divine Being 
 if, instead of a fast, they should proclaim a thanksgiv 
 ing. 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 order 
 ed and religiously observed, 
 
ESSAYS. 2-l.j 
 
 I see in the public papers 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 exist 
 ing, in which there will not be some people so circum 
 stanced 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 no 
 thing 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, 1 suppose we have at 
 least one hundred farmers, and by far the greatest part 
 cultivators of their own fertile lands, from whence many 
 of them draw not only food necessary for their subsist 
 ence, 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 gradual - 
 ly accumulated. Such has been the goodness of Divine 
 Providence to these regions, and so favourable the cli 
 mate, 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 amongst us ; on tht". 
 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 ex 
 portation. 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 3 
 21 * 
 
246 ESSAYS. 
 
 that in no part of it arc 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 revolu 
 tion, the owners of houses and lots of grounds have had 
 their interest vastly augmented in value ; rents have 
 risen to an astonishing height, and thence encourage 
 ment 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 
 could afford them, and are paid in ready money. Thi? 
 rank of people therefore do not, or ought not to com 
 plain of hard times ; and they make a very considera 
 ble 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 valuble race of men em 
 ployed 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 sperma 
 ceti candles, which there bear a much higher price 
 than formerly. 
 
 There remain the merchants and shop-keepers. 
 Of these, though they make but a small part of the 
 whole nation, the number is considerable, too great in 
 deed for the business they are employed in ; for the 
 consumption of goods in every country has its limits ; 
 the facilities of the people, that is, their ability to buy 
 and pay, is equal only to a certain quantity of merchan 
 dise. If merchants calculate amiss on this proportion, 
 and import too much, they will of course find the sale 
 dull for the overpluss, and some of them will say that 
 trade languishes. They should, and doubtless will, 
 
ESSAYS. 247 
 
 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 shop-keepers, 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 excess 
 ive number of sellers, th t the mischief arises ; and, 
 if every shopkeeping farmer and mechanic would re 
 turn to the use of his plough and working tools, there 
 would remain of widows, and other women, shopkeep 
 ers sufficient for the business, which might then af 
 ford 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, com 
 pared 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, me- 
 thinks, 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 differ 
 ent 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 3 measures, 
 
ESSAifS. 
 
 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 Jess 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 
 ceconomy, and that the most plentiful income of a 
 whole people from the natural productions of their 
 country may be dissipated in vain and needless expen 
 ses, and poverty be introduced in the place of afflu 
 ence. This may be possible. It however rarely hap 
 pens : for there seems to be in every nation a greater 
 proportion of industry and frugality, which tend to en 
 rich, than of idleness and prodigality, which occasion 
 poverty ; so that upon the whole there is a continual 
 accumulation. Reflect that Spain, Gaul, Germanj , 
 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, maga 
 zines stocked with valuable manufactures, to say no 
 thing of plate, jewels, and coined money ; and all this, 
 notwithstanding their bad, wasteful, plundering go 
 vernments, 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 itts 
 possible that the luxury of our sea-ports can be suffi- 
 
ESSAtrf. 249 
 
 ".icut to ruin such a country. If the importation of 
 foreign luxuries could ruin a people, we should proha- 
 bly 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 im 
 portations, and thereby grow richer ; if, indeed, which 
 may admit of dispute, the desire of adorning ourselves 
 with fine clothes, possessing line furniture, with ele 
 gant 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 at 
 tentive 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 
 Antaeus in the fable, if in wrestling with a Hercules 
 we now and then receive a fall, the touch of our pa 
 rents will communicate to us fresh strength and vi 
 our to renew the contest. 
 
 INFORMATION TO THOSE WHO WOULD RE MOV* 
 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 trans- 
 
250 ESSAYS. 
 
 porting and establishing themselves in that country ; 
 but who appear to him to have formed, through ig 
 norance, mistaken ideas and expectations of what is 
 to be obtained there ; he thinks it may be useful, and 
 prevent inconvenient, expensive, and fruitless remo 
 vals and voyages of improper persons, if he gives some 
 clearer and truer notions of that part of the world, 
 than have hitherto prevailed. 
 
 He finds it imagined by numbers, that the inhabi 
 tants 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 -letters, fine arts, &c. must be highly es 
 teemed, and so well paid as to become easily rich them 
 selves ; that there are also abundance of profitable 
 offices to be disposed of, which the natives are not 
 qualified to fill ; and that haying few persons of family 
 among them, strangers of birth must be greatly re 
 spected, and of course easily obtain the best of those 
 offices, which will make all their fortunes ; that the 
 government too, to encourage emigrations from Eu 
 rope, not only pay the expense of their personal trans 
 portation, but give lands gratis to strangers, with ne 
 groes to work for them, utensils of husbandry, and 
 stock of cattle. These are all wild imaginations : and 
 those who go to America w r ith 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 
 ae also 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 merchandize; very few 
 rich enough to live idly upon their rents or incomes, 
 or to pay the high prices given in Europe for painting, 
 statutes, architecture, and the other works of art that 
 
ESSAYS. 251 
 
 are more curious than useful. Hence the natural 
 geniuses that have arisen in America, with such ta 
 lents, 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-Eng 
 land, and one in each of the provinces of New-York, 
 New-Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, 
 all furnished with learned professors ; besides a num 
 ber of smaller academies ; these educate many of their 
 youth in the languages, and those sciences that quali 
 fy men for the professions of divinity, law, or physic, 
 Strangers indeed are by no means excluded from ex 
 ercising those professions ; and the quick increase of 
 inhabitants every where gives them a chance of em 
 ploy, which they have in common with the native?. 
 Of civil officers or employments, there are few ; no 
 superfluous ones as in Europe ; and it is a rule estab 
 lished in some of the states, that no office should be 
 so profitable as to make it desirable. The 36th article 
 of the constitution of Pennsylvania runs expressly in 
 these words : "As every freeman, to preserve his in 
 dependence, (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, unbe 
 coming 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 Unit 
 ed States, it cannot be worth any man s while who has 
 means of living at home, to expatriate himself m 
 
252 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 ad 
 visable for a person to go thither, who has DO other 
 quality to recommend him but his birth. In Europe 
 it hns indeed its value ; but it is a commodity that can 
 not be carried to a worse market than to that of Amer 
 ica, where people do not inquire concerning a stran 
 ger, 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 honor there, and even the mechanic, because 
 their employments are useful. The people have a 
 saying, that God Almighty is himself a mechanic, the 
 greatest in the universe ; and he is respected and ad 
 mired more for the variety, ingenuity, and utility of 
 his handyworks, than for the antiquity of his family. 
 They are pleased with the observation of a negro, 
 and frequently mention it, that Boccarorra (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 dehog, no workee ; Jie 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 tor 
 Jiim that his ancestors and relations for ten generations 
 had been ploughmen, smiths, carpenters, turners, 
 weavers, tanners, or even shoemakers, and conse 
 quently 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 ot 
 -. there, mere feuges consumer e nati* and otherwis< 
 
 * . . . born 
 
 Merely to eat np the corn. WATTS. 
 
ESSAYS. 253 
 
 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 there 
 fore 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 govern 
 ment 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 1 ibour, and by no 
 means what the English call Lubber/and, and the 
 French Pays de. Cocagne, where the streets are said to 
 be paved with h;ilf-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 emi 
 gration to America would 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 in 
 habited in an age to come, insomuch that the property 
 of -in 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 un^ 
 derstand 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 sa 
 ved of the good wages they receive there while they 
 work for others, enables them to buy the land and be- 
 
254 ESSAYS. 
 
 gin their plantation, in which they are assisted by the 
 good will of their neighbours, and some credit. Mul 
 titudes of good people from England, Ireland, Scot 
 land, 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 en 
 couragement to early marriages, by the certainty of 
 subsistence in cultivating the earth, the increase of 
 inhabitants by natural generation is very rapid in Ame 
 rica, 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. Tolerable 
 good workmen in any of those mechanic arts, are sure 
 to find employ, and to J>e well paid for their work, 
 there being no restraints preventing strangers from 
 exercising any art they understand, nor any permis 
 sion necessary. If they are poor, they begin first as 
 servants or journeymen ; and if they are sober, indus 
 trious, and frugal, they soon become masters, estab 
 lish 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 se 
 cure estates for their posterity, have opportunities of 
 doing it in America, which Europe does not afford. 
 There they may be taught and practise profitable me 
 chanic arts, without incurring disgrace on that ac 
 count ; but on the contrary acquiring respect by such 
 abilities. There small capitals luid out in lands, which 
 daily become more valuable by the increase of people, 
 
ESSAYS. 255 
 
 afford a solid prospect of ample fortunes thereafter for 
 those children. The writer of this has known several 
 instances of large tracts of lands, bought on what was 
 then the frontier of Pennsylvania, for ten pounds per 
 hundred acres, which, after twenty years, when the 
 settlement 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 Nor 
 mandy. 
 
 Those who desire to understand the state of govern 
 ment in America, would do well to read the constitu 
 tions of the several states, and the articles of confede 
 ration that bind the whole together for general purpo 
 ses, 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 trans 
 lation of them in French, has lately been published 
 at Paris. 
 
 Several of the princes of Europe having of late, 
 from an opinion of advantage to arise by producing all 
 commodities and manufactures within their own do 
 minions, so as to diminish or render useless their im 
 portations, have endeavoured to entice workmen from 
 other countries, by high salaries, privileges, &c. Ma 
 ny 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, 
 having proposed to go over, on condition of having 
 their passages paid, land 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 purpo 
 ses ; and that if any such encouragement is given, it 
 must be by the government of some particular state. 
 
 
^6 ESSAYS. 
 
 This, however, has rarely been done in , 
 
 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, ever}^ one de 
 siring to be a master, and the cheapness of land inclin 
 ing many to leave trade for agriculture. Some in- 
 deed have met with success, and are carried on to ad 
 vantage ; but they are generally such as require only 
 a few hands, or wherein great part of the work is per 
 formed by machines. Goods that are bulky, and of 
 so small value as not well to bear the expense 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 de 
 mand. 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 ma 
 nufacture, 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 greater 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 
 
ESSAYS. 257 
 
 manufacture of silk, they say, is natural in France, as 
 that of cloth in England, hecause each country produ 
 ces 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 prohi 
 bitions, 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 nei 
 ther happier nor richer, since they only drink more 
 and work less. Therefore the government of Ame 
 rica do nothing to encourage such projects. The peo 
 ple, 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 tuko 
 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 la 
 bour in America, beyond what he had in Europe, as 
 lie can add to his price a sum nearly equal to all the 
 expenses of freight and commission,- risque or insu 
 rance, &c. necessarily charged by the merchant. And 
 it is the same with 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 dif 
 ficult for a poor man who has children to place them 
 where they may gain, or learn to gain a decent liveli 
 hood. The artisans, who fear creating future rivals 
 in business, refuse to take apprentices, but upon con 
 ditions of money, maintenance, or the like, which the 
 parents are unable to comply with. Here the youth 
 22 * 
 
 
258 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 arti 
 sans .viilii -/ly ivt o.ive 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 in 
 structed ; for the artisans are so desirous of appren 
 tices, 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 con 
 tracts 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 writ 
 ten indenture, not only that, during the time of ser 
 vice 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 in 
 denture 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, in 
 duces 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. 
 
ESSAYS. 2uO 
 
 in proportion to their skill, and the consequent imme 
 diate value of their services ; and those who have none 
 agreeing for a longer term, in consideration of being 
 taught an art their poverty woukl not permit them to 
 acquire in their own country. 
 
 The almost general mediocrity of fortune that pre 
 vails in America, obliging its people to follow some 
 business for subsistence, those vices that arise usually 
 from idleness, are in a great measure prevented. In 
 dustry and constant employment are great preserva 
 tives 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 an atheist or an infidel. And 
 the Divine Being seems to have manifested his appro 
 bation of the mutual forbearance and kindness with 
 whicb the different sects treat each other, by the 
 remarkable prosperity with which he has been pleas 
 ed to favour the whole country. 
 
 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 
 
 * Our reasons for ascribing this speech to Dr. Franklin, 
 are its internal evidence, and its having appeared with his 
 name, daring his life-time, uncontradicted, in. an American 
 periodical publication, 
 
260 ESSAYS. 
 
 shall never approve it ; for having lived long, I 
 experienced many instances of being obliged by better 
 information, or further consideration, to change opin 
 ions 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 am I to doubt my own 
 judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment 
 of others. Most men, indeed, as well as most sects 
 of 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 doc 
 trines, is, the Roman 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 own sect, few ex 
 press it so naturally as a certain French lady, who, in a 
 little dispute with her sister, said, I dont know how it 
 happens, sister, but I meet with nobody but myself 
 that is always in the right. // n ny a que moi gut a tou- 
 jours raison. In these sentiments, Sir, I agree to this 
 constitution, with all its faults, if they are such : be 
 cause 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 inca 
 pable of any other. I doubt too, whether any other 
 convention we can obtain, may be able to make a bet 
 ter constitution. For when you assemble a number 
 of men, to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, 
 you assemble with those men, all their prejudices, 
 their passions, their errors of opinion, their local in 
 terests, and their selfish views. From such an assem 
 bly can a perfect production be expected ? It there- 
 
ES3AVS. 261 
 
 fore astonishes me. Sir, to find this system approach 
 ing 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 1 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 sa 
 lutary 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 or efficiency of any government, in 
 procuring and securing happiness to the people, de 
 pends on opinion ; on the general opinion of the good 
 ness of that government, as well as of the wisdom and 
 integrity of its governors. 
 
 I hope, therefore, that for our own sakes as a 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 for 
 muta, viz. 
 
 
26.2 ESSAYS. 
 
 Done in convention by the unanimous consent, 
 which was agreed to, and added accordingly.] 
 
 SKETCH 0^ AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 
 
 FOR THE CONSIDERATION OF THE TRUSTEES OF THE . 
 PHILADELPHIA ACADEMY. 
 
 It is expected that every scholar to be admitted into 
 this school, be at least able to pronounce and divide 
 the syllables in reading, and to write a legible hand. 
 None to be received that are under 
 years of age* 
 
 FIRST, OR LOWEST CLASS. 
 
 Let the first class learn the English Grammar rules, 
 and at the same time let particular care be taken to 
 improve them in orthography. Perhaps the latter is 
 best done by pairing the scholars ; two of those nearest 
 equal in their spelling to be put together. Let these 
 strive for victory ; each propounding ten words every 
 day to the other to be spelled. He that spells truly 
 most of the other s words, is victor for that day ; he 
 that is victor most days in a month, to obtain a prize, 
 a pretty neat book of some kind, useful in their future 
 studies. This method fixes the attention of children 
 extremely to the orthography of words, and makes 
 them good spellers very early. It is a shame for a 
 man to be so ignorant of this Rtle art in his own lan 
 guage, as to be perpetually confounding words of like 
 sounds and different significations ; the consciousness 
 of which defect makes some men, otherwise of good 
 learning and understanding, averse to writing even a 
 common letter. 
 
 Let the pieces read by the scholars in this class be 
 short : such as Coxal s fables and little stories. In 
 
 
ESSAYS. SGvi 
 
 giving the lesson, let it be read to them ; let the 
 meaning of the most difficult words in it be explained 
 to them ; and let them con over by themselves before 
 they are called to read to the master or usher ; who is 
 to take particular care that they do not read too fast 
 and that they duly observe the stops and pauses. A 
 vocabulary of the most useful difficult words might be 
 formed for their use, with explanations ; and they 
 might daily get a few of those words and explanations 
 by heart, which would a little exercise their memo 
 ries ; or at least they might write a number of them 
 in a small book for the purpose, which would help to 
 fix the meaning of those words in their minds, and at 
 the same time furnish every one with a little dictionary 
 for his future use. 
 
 THE SECOND CLASS. 
 
 To be taught reading with attention, and with prc- 
 per modulation of the voice j according to the senti 
 ment and subject. 
 
 Some short pieces, not exceeding the length of a 
 Spectator, to be given this class for lessons (and some 
 of the easier Spectators would be very suitable for the 
 purpose.) These lessons might be given every night 
 as tasks ; the scholars to study them against the morn 
 ing. * Let it then be required of them to give an ac^ 
 count, first of the parts of speech and construction of 
 one or two sentences. This will oblige them to re 
 cur frequently to their grammar, and fix its principal 
 rules in their memory. Next, of the intention of the 
 writer, or the scope of the piece, the meaning of each 
 sentence, and of every uncommon word. This would 
 early acquaint them with the meaning and force of 
 words, and give them that most necessary habit, of 
 reading with attention. 
 
 The master then to read the piece with the proper 
 modulations of voice, due emphasis, and suitable action < 
 
St:-4 ESSAYS. 
 
 where action is required ; and put the youth on imi 
 tating his manner. 
 
 Where the author has used an expression not the 
 best, let it be pointed out ; and let his beauties be par 
 ticularly remarked to the youth. 
 
 Let the lessons for reading be varied, that the youth 
 may be made acquainted with good styles of all kinds 
 in prose and verse, and the proper manner of reading 
 each kind sometimes a well-told story, a piece of a 
 sermon, a general s speech to his soldiers, a speech in 
 a tragedy, some part of a comedy, an ode, a satire, 
 a letter, blank verse, Hudibrastic, heroic, &LC. But 
 let such lessons be chosen for reading, as contain 
 some useful instruction, whereby the understanding 
 or morals of the youth may at the same time be im 
 proved. 
 
 It is re quired that they should first study and under 
 stand the lessons, before they are put upon reading 
 them properly ; to which end each boy should have" 
 an English dictionary, to help him over difficulties. 
 When ourboys read English to us, we are apt to ima 
 gine they understand wh"t they read, because we do, 
 and because it is their mother tongue. But they of 
 ten read as parrots speak, knowing little or nothing of 
 the meaning. And it is impossible a reader should 
 give the due modulation to his voice, and pronounce 
 properly, unless his understanding goes before his 
 tongue, and makes him master of the sentiment. Ac 
 customing boys to read aloud what they do rot first 
 understand, is the cause of those even set tones so 
 common among readers, which, when they have once 
 got a habit of using, they find so difficult to correct ; 
 by which means, among fifty readers we scarcely find 
 a good one. For want of good reading, pieces publish 
 ed with a view to influence the minds of men, for their 
 own or the public benefit, lose half their force. Were 
 there but one good reader in a neighbourhood, a pub- 
 Jic orator might be heard throughout a nation with thr 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 same advantages, and have the same effect upon hi? 
 audience, as if they stood within the reach of hi? 
 voice. 
 
 THE THIRD CLASS. 
 
 To be taught speaking properly and gracefully , 
 which is near a-kin to good reading, and naturally 
 follows it in the studies of youth. Let the scholars of 
 this class begin with learning the elements of rhetoric 
 from some short system, so as to be able to give an ac 
 count of the most useful tropes and figures. Let all 
 their bad habits of speaking, all offences against good 
 grammar, all corrupt or foreign accents and all impro 
 per phrases, be pointed out to them. Short speeches 
 from the Roman or other history, or from the parlia 
 mentary debates, might be got by heart, and delivered 
 with the proper action, &c. Speeches and scenes in 
 our best tragedies and comedies (avoiding things that 
 could injure the morals of youth) might likewise be 
 got by rote, and the boys exercised in delivering or 
 acting them ; great care being taken to form their 
 manner after the truest models. 
 
 For this farther improvement, and a little to vary 
 their studies, let them now begin to read history, after 
 having got by heart a short table of the principal epo- 
 chas in Chronology. They may begin with Rollin s 
 ancient and Roman histories, and proceed at prepei* 
 hours, as they go through the subsequent classes, with 
 the best histories of our own nation and colonies. Let 
 emulation be excited among the boys 5 by giving 
 weekly, little prizes, or other small encouragements, 
 to those who are able to give the best account of what 
 they have read, as to times, places, names of persons, 
 &c. This will make them read with attention, and 
 imprint the history well in their memories. In re 
 marking on the history, the master will have fine op 
 portunities of instilling instructions of various kinds, 
 23 
 
26C ESSAYS. 
 
 mid improving the morals, as well as the understand 
 ings of youth, 
 
 .The natural and mechanic history, contained in the 
 Spectacle de la Nature, might also be began in thi? 
 class, and continued through the subsequent classes 
 brother books of the same kind ; for, next to the know- 
 ledge of duty, this kind of knowledge is certainly the 
 most useful, as well as the most entertaining. The 
 merchant may thereby be enabled better to understand 
 many commodities in trade ; the handicraftman to 
 improve his business by new instruments, mixtures, 
 and materials ; and frequent hints are given for new 
 manufactures, and new methods of improving land, 
 that may be set on foot greatly to the advantage of 
 the country. 
 
 THE FOURTH CLASS. 
 
 To be taught composition. Writing one s own 
 language well, is the next necessary accomplishment 
 after good speaking. It is the writing master s busi 
 ness to take care that the boys make fair characters, 
 and place them strait and even in the lines ; but to 
 form their style, and even to take care that the stops 
 and capitals are properly disposed, is the part of an 
 English master. The boys should be put on writing 
 letters to each other on any common occurrences, and 
 on various subjects, imaginary business, &c. contain 
 ing little stories, accounts of their late reading, what 
 parts of authors please them, and why ; letters of 
 congratulation, of compliment, of requests , of thanks,^ 
 of recommendation, of admonition, of consolation, of 
 expostulation, excuse, &c. In these they should be 
 taught to express themselves clearly, concisely, and 
 natu rally without affected words or high flown phrases. 
 All their letters to pass through the master s hand, 
 who is to point out the faults, advise the corrections, 
 and commend what he finds right. Some of the best 
 letters published in our own language, as Sir William 
 
ESSAYS. 267 
 
 Temple s, those of Pope and his friends, and some 
 others, might be set before the youth as models, their 
 beauties pointed out, and explained by the master, the 
 letters themselves transcribed by the scholar. 
 
 Dr. Johnson s Ethices Elementa, or First Principles 
 of Morality, may now be read by the scholars, and ex 
 plained by the master to lay a solid foundation of vir 
 tue and piety in their minds. And as this class con 
 tinues the reading of history, let them now, at proper 
 hours, receive some farther instructions, of Chronolo 
 gy and in that part of Geography (from the mathema 
 tical master) which is necessary to understand the 
 maps and globes. They should also be acquainted 
 with the modern names of places they find mentioned 
 in ancient writers. The exercises of good reading, 
 and proper speaking, still continued at suitable times, 
 
 FIFTH CLASS. 
 
 To improve the youth in composition, they may 
 now, besides continuing to write letters, begin to write 
 little essays in prose, and sometimes in verse ; not to 
 make them poets, but for this reason, that nothing ac 
 quaints a lad so speedily with variety of expressions as 
 the necessity of finding such words and phrases as well 
 suit the measure, sound and rhyme of verse, and at the 
 same time well express the sentiment. These essays 
 should all pass under the master s eye, who will point 
 out their faults, and put the writer on correcting 
 them. Where the judgment is not ripe enough for 
 forming new essays, let the sentiments of a Spectator 
 be given, and required to be clothed in the scholar s 
 own words ; or the circumstances of some good 
 story ; the scholar to find expression. Let them be 
 put sometimes on abridging a paragraph of a diffuse 
 author : sometimes on dilating or amplifying what is 
 wrote more closely. And now let Dr. Johnson s Noe- 
 tica, or First Principles of Human Knowledge, con- 
 taini ng a logic, or art of reasoning, &c. be read by the 
 
268 ESSAYS. 
 
 youth, and the difficulties that may occur to them be 
 explained by the master. The reading of history, and 
 the exercise of good reading and just speaking, still 
 continued. 
 
 SIXTH CLASS. 
 
 In this class besides continuing the studies of the 
 hall ; preceding in history, rhetoric, logic, moral and 
 natural philosophy, the best English authors may be 
 read and explained ; as Tillotson, Milton, Locke, Ad- 
 dison, Pope, Swift, the higher papers in the Spectator 
 and Guardian, the best translations of Homer, Virgil s 
 and Horace, of Telmachus, Travels of Cyrus, &c. 
 
 Once a year let there be public exercises in the 
 trustees and citizens presence. Then let fine gilt books 
 be given as prizes to such boys as distinguish them 
 selves, and excel the others in any branch of learn 
 ing, making three degrees of comparison : giving the 
 best prize to him that performs best ; a less valuable 
 one to him that comes up next to the best ; and anoth 
 er to the third. Commendations, encouragements, 
 and advice to the rest ; keeping up their hopes, that 
 by industry, they may excel another time. The names 
 of those that obtain the prize, to be yearly printed in 
 a list. 
 
 The hours of each day are to be divided and dis 
 posed in such a manner as that some classes may be 
 with the Writing-master, improving their hands ; oth 
 ers with the mathematical master, learning arithmetic, 
 accounts, geography, use of the globes^ drawing, me 
 chanics, &c. while the rest are in the English school, 
 under the English master s care. 
 
 Thus instructed, youth will come out of this school 
 fitted for learning any business, calling, or profession, 
 except such wherein languages are required : and 
 though unacquainted with any ancient or foreign 
 tongue, they will be masters of their own, which is ot 
 more immediate and general use, and withal will have 
 
ESSAYS. 266 
 
 attained many other valuable accomplishments ; the 
 time usually spent in acquiring those languages, often 
 without success, being here employed in laying such 
 a foundation of knowledge and ability, as properly im 
 proved, may qualify them to pass through and execute 
 the several offices of civil life, with advantage and re 
 putation to themselves and country. 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. No. I. 
 
 From the American Weekly Mercury, from Tuesday, 
 January 28, to Tuesday, February 4, 17289. 
 
 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 Mer 
 cury is not always equally entertaining. The delay of 
 ships expected in, and want of fresh advices from Eu 
 rope, 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 observ 
 ed the growing vices and follies of my country folk : 
 and though reformation is properly the concern of ev 
 ery man, that is, every one ought to mend one ; yet 
 it is too true in this case, that what is every body s bu 
 siness is no body s business, and the business is done 
 accordingly. I therefore, upon mature deliberation, 
 r.hink 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, 
 23 * 
 
<7G ESSAYS. 
 
 with your allowance, to make use of the Weekly Mer 
 cury 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 Httle besides my 
 labour for my pains. Nay, it is probable, I may dis~- 
 please 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 cen 
 sure, 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 neigh 
 bors in the same circumstances. 
 
 However, let the fair sex be assured, that I shall al 
 ways treat them and their affairs with the utmost de 
 cency 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, with 
 out 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 per 
 fection 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- 
 Jate article from Muscovy or Hungary, you had en 
 tertained them with some well chosen extract from a 
 good author. This 1 shall sometimes do, when I hap 
 pen to have nothing of my own to say that I think of 
 more consequence. Sometimes, I purpose to deliver 
 lectures of morality or philosophy, and (because I am 
 naturally inclined to be meddling with things that do 
 sot concera me) perhaps I may sometimes talk polr 
 
ESSAYS, 273 
 
 tics. 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 under 
 taking) 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, 1 am not under the least ap 
 prehension 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 disad 
 vantage. 
 
 It is very common with authors in their first per 
 formances, 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, thatunless you approve 
 what they have already wrote, they intend never to 
 write again ; when perhaps it may not be a pin mat 
 ter, whether they ever do or no. As I have not ob 
 served the critics to be more favourable on this ac 
 count, 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 
 nay depend on hearing further from, 
 
 Sir, 
 Your most humble servant, 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. 
 
272 ESSAYS. 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. No. II. 
 
 From Tuesday, February 4, to Tuesday, February 1 J, 
 
 17289. 
 
 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 Conde delighted much 
 in ridicule, and used frequently to shut himself up 
 for half a day together, in his chamber, with a gentle 
 man, that was his favourite, purposely to divert him 
 self with examining what was the foible, or ridicu 
 lous 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 some 
 what inclined to be of this opinion. The genera! 
 tendency there is among us to this embellishment 
 (which I fear is too often grossly imposed upon my 
 loving countrymen instead of wit) and the applause it 
 meets with from a rising generation, fill me with fear 
 ful apprehensions for the future reputation of my 
 country : a young man of modesty (which is the most 
 certain indication of large capacities) is hereby dis 
 couraged from attempting to make any figure in life : 
 his apprehensions of being out-laughed, will force him 
 to continue in a restless obscurity, without having an 
 opportunity of knowing his own merit himself, or dis 
 covering it to the world, rather than venture to ex 
 pose 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 tram 
 of paltry admirers ? This wight shall give himself 
 an hour s diversion with the cock of a man s hat, 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 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 ;t 
 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 laughed at ;, 
 but it is barbarously unhandsome, when friends meet 
 for the benefit of conversation, and a proper relaxa 
 tion from business, that one should be the butt of the 
 companv, 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 wu^ 
 never yet baulked in his intention. Eugenius take^ 
 more delight in applying the wit of his friends, than 
 in being admired himself; and if any one of the com 
 pany 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 ra 
 ther 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 ii* 
 their pockets, reading them themselves in all compa 
 ny 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 
 rhe least tincture of politeness. These I take to bo 
 :.he most incorrigible of all my readers ; nay, I expec 
 they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself. ~ 
 However, the only favour he begs of them is thi> 
 that if thny cannot rontroul their overbearing itch ^i 
 
ESSAYS 
 
 scribbling, let him be attacked in downright bitim 
 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 11, to Tuesday, Fcbruan. 
 18, 17289. 
 
 Non vultus instantis Tyranni 
 
 Mente quatit solida, nee auster, 
 
 Dux inquieti turbidus Adaiae, 
 
 Nee fulminantis magna Jo vis manus. HOR. 
 
 It is said, that the Persians, in their ancient con 
 stitution, 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 go 
 vern his passions, in spite of temptation ; to be just in 
 his dealings, to be temperate in his pleasures, to sup- 
 pert 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, glo 
 rious, and happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, 
 as I am, cannot help thinking as I do now, and will ac 
 knowledge he deserves the name, without being ho 
 noured by it. Cato is a man whom fortune has placed 
 m the most obscure part of the country. His circum 
 stances 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 
 
ESSAYS; 
 
 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. Me- 
 thought he rapped in such a peculiar manner, as seem 
 ed of itself to express there was one who deserved as 
 well as desired admission. He appeared in the plain 
 est country garb ; his great coat was coarse, and look 
 ed old and threadbare ; his linen was homespun ; 
 his beard, perhaps, of seven days growth ; his shoes 
 thick and heavy ; and every part of his dress corres 
 ponding Why was this man received with such con 
 curring respect from every person in the room, even 
 from those who had never known him or seen him be 
 fore ? It was not an exquisite form of person or gran 
 deur- of dress, that struck us with admiration. I be 
 lieve 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 em 
 boldened with resolution, equally free from diffident 
 bashfulness and an unbecoming assurance. The con 
 sciousness of his own innate worth and unshaken in 
 tegrity, renders him calm and undaunted in the pre 
 sence of the most great and powerful, and upon the 
 most extraordinary occasions. His strict justice and 
 known impartiality make him the arbitrator and deci 
 der 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 
 
2?6 ESSAYS. 
 
 lowering, suspicious aspect. A mixture of innocence 
 and wisdom makes him ever seriously cheerful. 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 tem 
 perance, his love to mankind, his magnanimity, his 
 public spiritedness, and, in fine, his consummate vir 
 tue, 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 ]ove and hate ; 
 
 Still are they found in the fair face of day, 
 
 And heaven and men are judges of their actions. HOWE. 
 
 Who would not rather choose, if it were in his 
 choice, to merit the above character, than be the rich 
 est, the most learned, or the most powerful man in the 
 province without it ! 
 
 Almost every man has a strong natural desire of be 
 ing 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 laudab 1 m./uition is too commonly misap 
 plied, and often in employed. Some, to make them 
 selves 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 per 
 son : 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, 
 
ESSAYS. 277 
 
 and the number of valuable men would be much in 
 creased ; 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. 
 
 OCretico! 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 under 
 stand, 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 
 znayest 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 so 
 ever, 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 hap 
 pen to be drawn in the course of these papers, they 
 mean no particular person, if they are not particular 
 ly applied. 
 
 Likewise, that the author is no party-man, but 9 
 general medler. 
 
 N, B. Gretico lives in a neighbouring proyince 
 24 
 
27ff ESSAYS. 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. No. IV. 
 
 From Tuesday, February 18, to Tuesday, Fc> 
 25, 17289. 
 
 Nequid nimis. 
 
 In my first paper, I invited the learned and the in 
 genious to join with me in this undertaking : and I 
 now repeat that invitation. I would have such gen 
 tlemen take this opportunity (by trying their talent in 
 writing) of diverting themselves and friends, and im 
 proving 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 sinis^ 
 ter view ; my chief purpose being to inculcate the no 
 ble 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 jn the province, who are the 
 common objects of popular dislike. If I can now and 
 then overcome my reluctance, and prevail with my 
 self 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 other 
 wise proceed immediately to the foreign news. As I 
 
 
ESSAYS. 271 
 
 3m 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 1 doubt not but they will 
 cheerfully tolerate me in the liberty I design to take 
 for the end above mentioned. 
 
 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 
 v as I think you call it) which is said to mean a reform 
 er of manners, I know no person more proper to be 
 applied 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, 
 jk&d stays so very !oog every visit, that I am tired out 
 of all patience. I have no manner of time at all to my 
 self; 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 compa 
 ny ; for if I should once hint such a thing, I am afraid 
 ehe would resent it so as never to darken my door 
 
220 ESSAYS*. 
 
 again. But alas ; Sir, I have not yet told you half HT? 
 affliction. She has two children that are just bi ii 
 enough to run about and do pretty mischief: these 
 are continually along with mamma, either in mv 
 room or shop, if I hare ever so many customers or peo 
 ple with me about business. Sometimes they pul! 
 the goods off my low shelves, down to the ground, and 
 perhaps where one of them has just been making wa 
 ter. My friend takes up the stuff, and cries, "Oi 
 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. Sometime? 
 they get to my cask of nails behind the counter, and 
 divert themselves, to my great vexation, with mix 
 ing my ten-penny and eight-penny and four-penny to 
 gether. I endeavour to conceal my uneasiness as 
 much as possible, and with a grave look go to sorting 
 them out. She cries, " Dont 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 right? 
 but that I find a great deal of work to do after they are 
 gone. Thus, Sir, I have all the trouble and pester- 
 ment 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 hav 
 been so kind as to have moderated her visits to ten 
 times a da} , and staid but half an hour at a time, J 
 should have been contended, 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 imperti 
 nent questions, the youngest got to my nails, and with 
 
 treat delight rattled them by handfuls all over the 
 oor ; 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 con 
 fusion I cut it quite out of all manner of shape, and ut 
 
ESSAYS. 281 
 
 terly spoiled a piece of the first muslin. Fray, 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 be 
 lieve it is only for want of thought. But I have twen 
 ty things more to tell you besides all this : there is a 
 handsome gentleman that has a mind ([ dont question) 
 to make love to me ; but he can t get the opportunity 
 to O dear, here she comes again j I must con- 
 elude. 
 
 " Tour 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 consi 
 der 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 
 loo 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 dis 
 oblige, 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 n^ore easily excused 
 than the contrary. 
 
282 ESSAYS. 
 
 Men are subject to various inconveniences 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 impertinences 
 do we daily suffer with great uneasiness, because we 
 have not courage enough to discover our dislike ? And 
 why may not a man use the boldness and freedom of 
 telling his friends that their long visits sometimes in 
 commode him ? On this occasion, it may be enter 
 taining to some of my readers, if I acquaint them with 
 the Turkish manner of entertaining visitors, which 1 
 have from an author of unquestionable veracity : who 
 assures us, that even the Turks are notso 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 them 
 selves obliging. 
 
 " When you visit a person of quality (says he) and 
 having 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 sweatmeat, 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 ifor the purpose a small silver 
 chafing dish, covered with a lid full of holes, and fix 
 ed 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 offer 
 ed 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 re- 
 
ESSAYS. 283 
 
 tains the savour of it, and may serve for a nosegay a 
 good while after. 
 
 " This ceremony may perhaps seems ridiculous at 
 first hearing ; but it passes among the Turks for an 
 high gratification. And I will say this in its vindica 
 tion, 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 bu 
 siness to do, or some other avocation, that permits 
 them to go away as soon as they please ; and the soon 
 er after this ceremony the better. By this means 
 you may, at any time, without offence, deliver your 
 self 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 ta 
 ken 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 1 have treated 
 with a dram, and presented a pinch of my best snuff, 
 I expect all compan}^ will retire, and leave me to pur 
 sue 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 
 Clubb. All persons who are acquainted with any facts, 
 circumstances, characters, translations, &c. which will 
 be requisite to the perfecting and embellishing 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-soL- u ~?; is come to 
 hand. 
 
224 ESSAYS. 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. No. V. 
 
 From Tuesday, February 25, to Tuesday, March 4, 
 17289. 
 
 Vos, O patricius sanguis, quos vivere fas est, 
 Occipiti caeco, posticae occurite sannae. PERSIUS. 
 
 This paper being designed for a terror to evil do 
 ers, 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 encouraged by the just and good, 
 and that few are against me but those who have rea 
 son 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 villainy sometimes so craf 
 tily 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 of 
 fice ; and that even my enemies may be convinced L 
 take no delight to rake into the dunghill lives of viscious 
 men ; and to the end that certain persons may be a 
 little eased of their fears, and relieved from the terri 
 ble palpitations they have lately felt and suffered, and 
 do still suffer ; I hereby graciously pass an act of ge 
 neral oblivion, for all offences, crimes, and misde 
 meanors, of what kind soever, committed from the 
 beginning of the year 1681, until the day of the date 
 of my first paper, and promise only to concern my c e!f 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 with such as have been since and shall hereafter be 
 committed. I shall take no notice who has (hereto 
 fore) 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 bar 
 gain : 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 1 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 hope 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 giv 
 en 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 mar 
 vellous occurrences 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 ma 
 ny of his secret workings, in the various shapos, h^ 
 
286 ESSAYS. 
 
 bits and names of men and women ; and bavin* tra 
 veiled and conversed much, and met but with aVery 
 few of the same perceptions and qualifications, J can 
 recommend myself to you as the most useful man you 
 ran 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 natu 
 ral faculty of second sight. This faculty (how derived 
 to him our family memoirs are not very clear) was en 
 joyed by all his decendants, 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 mar 
 ried, 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 por 
 tion of this virtue, being only able to discern transac 
 tions 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 prognostics, restored our ancestor s 
 natural faculty of second sight, in a greater lustre to 
 me, than it had ehined in through several generations, 
 I will not here discuss. But so it is, that J am possess 
 ed largely of it, and design, if you encourage the pro 
 posal, 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 dis* 
 covery 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 
 
ESSAYS. 287 
 
 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 my 
 self more known in the world : hy 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 cjoing, 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 liv 
 ing ; 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 pru 
 dence, in chusing to live obscurely. I remember 
 the fate of my poor monkey : he had an ill-natured 
 trick of grinning and chattering at every thing he saw 
 in petticoats : my ignorant country neighbours got a 
 notion, that pug snarled by instinct at every female 
 who had lost her virginity. This was no sooner ge 
 nerally 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 ten 
 der o the reputation of his country, in point of wit 
 and gooci^ense, has determined to take all manner of 
 writing in v&v?e or prose, that pretended to either, un 
 der his immediaTite cognizance ; and accordingly, here 
 by prohibits the pub7^ in g an J s ch for the future, til! 
 they have first assed hif ^aroirisiion, and received 
 
230 ASSAYS. 
 
 his imprimatur : for which he demands as a fee only 
 six pence per sheet. 
 
 N. B. He nevertheless permits to be published, all 
 satirical remarks on the Busy-Body, the above prohi 
 bition notwithstanding, and without examination, or re 
 quiring 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 di 
 rected, 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, 1 have thought fit 
 to reprieve his said great book of Crudities from the 
 flames, till further order. 
 
 Nolii me tongere. 
 
 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 con 
 tentious 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 
 
 3I r . finds himself concerned so warmly to accuse 
 
 and condemn me, as he has done in Keimer s fet In 
 structor, I cannot forbear endeavouring to s r;dV so^e- 
 thing in my own defence, from one of Ane worst tf 
 characters that could be given mebv, man of worth. 
 But as I have many things of mo- tf consequence to of 
 fer the public, I declare "* uat ] will never, after this 
 
ESSAYS. 2U* 
 
 tune, take notice of any accusations, not better sup 
 ported 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 vani 
 ty 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 , 
 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 
 given 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 1 have 
 wrote jn nly Number III. 
 
 In order to examine the truth and justice of this 
 heavy charge, let us recur to that character. And her<* 
 we may be surprised to find what a trifle has raised 
 this mighty clamour and complaint, this grievous ac 
 cusation I 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 human characters can be drawn that 
 will not fit some body, in so large a country as this ; 
 but one w r ould think, supposing I meant Cretico a real 
 person, I had sufficiently manifested my impartiality, 
 when I said, in that very paragraph, that Cretico ia 
 not without virtue ; that there are many good things 
 in him. and many good actions reported of him ; 
 25 
 
290 ESSAYS. 
 
 which must be allowed in all reason, very much to 
 overbalance in his favour those worst words, sour tem 
 pered and cunning. Nay, my very enemy and ac 
 cuser 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 
 (hose 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 inclina 
 tion, to draw all the good and bad characters in Ame 
 rica, why should a good man be offended with me for 
 drawing good characters ? And if I draw ill on<?s, can 
 they fit any one 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 abhor 
 rence 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 
 liis ; and the Busy-Body would quickly become de 
 testable ; 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 fol 
 lowed with a secret grief, to see their neighbours ca 
 lumniated. But if I myself was actually the worst man 
 ia the province, and any one should draw my real cba- 
 
ESSAYS. ^91 
 
 acter, would it not be ridiculous in me to say, lie 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 char- 
 acter without the owner s consent. If I discern the 
 wolf disguised in harmless wool, and contriving the 
 destruction of my neighbor s sheep, must I have hi* 
 permission, before I am allowed to discover and pre 
 vent 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 
 Busv-Body had really merited all his enemy had char- 
 ged"him with, his consent likewise ought to have been 
 obtained, before so terrible an accusation was publish 
 ed against him. 
 
 I shall conclude with observing, that in the last para 
 graph 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 endeavour 
 ing 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 un 
 dresses 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 latterunre- 
 warded ; but assure my adversary, that in considera 
 tion 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 1 for his 
 
 kind letter. 
 
 The lions complained of shall be muzzled. 
 
- 6 2 ESSAYS. 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. No. VI. 
 
 From Tuesday, March 20, to Tuesday, March 27, 
 1729. 
 
 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 pub 
 lish 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 inquiries, that have of late been made af 
 ter 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 ci 
 ty, 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 there 
 fore 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 par 
 tiality towards an} man, or set of men ; but whatso 
 ever I find nonsensical, ridiculous, or immorally dis 
 honest, 1 have, and shall continue openly to attack, 
 with the freedom of an honest man, and a lover of my 
 country. 
 
ESSAYS. xUJ 
 
 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 exposi 
 tions, 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 satire upon te 
 dious 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 im 
 partiality will ever be called in question on that ac 
 count. 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 New 
 castle, 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 Scott, Albertus Magnus, and Cornelius Agrippa, 
 above three hundred times ; and was in hopes, by my 
 knowledge and industry, to gain enough to have re~- 
 compenced 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 
 25 * 
 
294 ESSAYS. 
 
 knows all things,) that there are large sums of money 
 hidden underground in divers places about this town, 
 and in many parts of the country ; hut alas, sir, not 
 withstanding I have used all the means laid down in 
 the immortal authors before mentioned, and when they 
 failed the ingenious Mr. P d 1, with his mercurial 
 wand and magnet, I have still failed in my purpose. 
 This, therefore, I send, to propose and desire an ac 
 quaintance with you, and I do not doubt, notwithstand 
 ing my repeated ill fortune, but we may be exceed- 
 .mgly serviceable to each other in our discoveries ; and 
 that if we use our united endeavours, the time will 
 oome, when the Busy-Body, his second- sighted cor 
 respondent, 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 suf 
 ficient. 
 
 I conclude with all demonstrable respect, 
 
 Yours and Urania s Votary, 
 
 TITAN PELIADS. 
 
 In the evening after I had received this letter, I 
 made a visit to my second-sighted friend, and commu 
 nicated 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 
 underground 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 pi 
 rates and others in old times, who were never like to 
 -ome 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 artifi 
 cers and labouring people, w r ho, fed with a vain hope of 
 growing suddenly rich, neglect their business, almo5 f 
 
ESSAYS. sp. i 
 
 to the ruining of themselves and families, and volunta 
 rily 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 hope 
 ful spots with spades and pickaxes ; full of expecta- 
 tion, they labour violently, trembling at the same time 
 in every joint, through fear of certain malicious de 
 mons, who are said to haunt and guard such places. 
 At length a mighty hole is dug, and perhaps several 
 cart-loads, of earth thrown out ; but alas, no keg or 
 iron pot is found 1 no seaman s chest crammed with 
 Spanish pistoles, or weighty pieces of eight ! Then 
 they conclude, that through some mistake in the pro 
 cedure, 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 ani 
 mated 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 re 
 ward 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 fre 
 quenting 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 per 
 haps 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 the Schuylkill were so much mixed with 
 
296 E3SAYS. 
 
 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 
 s warms at this time, are either in the belief of these 
 things themselves, or find their advantage in persuad 
 ing others to believe them ; for they are often con 
 sulted about the critical times for digging, the methods 
 of laying the spirit, and the like whimsies, which ren 
 ders them very necessary to, and very much caressed 
 by, the poor deluded money-hunters. 
 
 There is certainly something very bewitching iu 
 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 En 
 glish 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 that the mountains of Postosi ; and 
 when I have been there on the fishing account, have 
 looked at every cod pulled up into the vessel as a cer 
 tain quantity of silver ore, which required only carry 
 ing 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 sea 
 men. Let honest Peter Buckram, who has long with 
 out success, been a searcher after hidden money, re- 
 ilect oa this, and be reclaimed from that unaccountable 
 folly. Let him consider, that every stitch he takes 
 when he is on the 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 
 
ESSAYS. 297 
 
 may make them industrious, and of consequence in 
 time they may be wealthy. But how absurd it is to ne 
 glect a certain profit for such a ridiculous whimsey : to 
 spend whole days at the Georgic, in company with an 
 idle pretender to astrology, contriving schemes to dis 
 cover what was never hidden, and forgetful how care 
 lessly 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, pro 
 vided 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 care 
 fully observe this, Never to dig more than plough- 
 deep." 
 
 LETTER TO JOSIAH QUINCEY, 
 
 Passy,Sept. 1M, 1783, 
 
 Mr. Storer told me not long since, that you com 
 plained of my not writing to you. You had reason ; 
 for I find among your letters, two unanswered. The 
 truth is, I have had too much business to do for the 
 public, and too little help allowed me ; so that it be 
 came impossible for me to keep up my private cor 
 respondence. I promised myself more leisure whcr. 
 
298 ESSAYS. 
 
 the definite treaty of peace should be concluded. 
 But that, it seems, is to be followed by a treaty of 
 commerce, which will probably take up a good deal 
 of time and require much attention. I seize this lit 
 tle interim to sit down, and have a little chat with my 
 friends in America. 
 
 I lament with you the many mischiefs, the injus 
 tice, the corruption of manners, &c. &c. that attend a 
 depreciating currency. It is some consolation to me 
 that I washed my hands of that evil, by predicting it 
 in Congress, and proposing means that would have 
 been effectual to prevent it, if they had been adopted. 
 Subsequent operations that I have executed, demon 
 strate that my plan was practicable. But it was un 
 fortunately rejected. Considering all our mistakes 
 and mismanagements, it is wonderful we have finished 
 an affair so well and so soon ! Indeed, I am wrong 
 in using that expression. We havejinished our ctffairs 
 so well nor blunders have been many, and they 
 serve to manifest the hand of Providence more clear 
 ly in our favor, so that we may much more properly 
 say, " These are thy doings, OLord, and they are mar 
 vellous in our eyes /" 
 
 Mr. Storer, whom you mention to me, is now in 
 England. He needed none of the advice you desired 
 me to give him. His behaviour here, was unexcep 
 tionable, and he gained the esteem of all that knew 
 him. 
 
 The epitaph on my dear and much esteemed young 
 friend, is too well written, to be capable of improve 
 ment by any corrections of mine ; your moderation 
 appears in it, since the natural affection of a parent has 
 not induced you to exaggerate his virtues. I shall al 
 ways mourn his loss with you, a loss not easily made 
 up to his country. 
 
 How differently constituted was his noble and ge 
 nerous mind from that of the miserable calumniators 
 you mention ! Having plenty of merit in himself, he 
 
ESSAYS. 9 
 
 was not jealous of the appearance of merit in others, 
 but did justice to their characters with as much plea 
 sure, as these people do injury : It is now near two 
 years since your friendship induced you to acquaint 
 me with some of their accusations. I guessed easily at 
 the quarter from whence they came ; but conscious 
 of my innocence, and unwilling to disturb public ope 
 rations by private resentment or contentions, I passed 
 them over in silence, and have not till within these 
 few days taken the least step towards my vindication. 
 Informed that the practice of abusing me continues, 
 and that some heavy charges are lately made against 
 me, respecting my conduct in the treaty, written 
 from Paris, and propagated amongst you, I have de 
 manded of all my colleagues that they do me justice, 
 and I have no doubt of receiving it from each of their . 
 I did not think it necessary to justify myself to you, 
 by answering the calumnies you mentioned. I knew 
 you did not believe them. It was impossible that I 
 should at this distance combine with any body to urge 
 the redemption of the paper on those unjust term?, 
 having no interest in such redemption. It was im 
 possible that I should have traded with the public 
 money, since I have not traded with any money, ei 
 ther separately or jointly with any other person, di 
 rectly or indirectly, to the value of a shilling, since 
 my being in France. And the fishery which it was 
 said I had relinquished, had not then come in ques 
 tion, nor had I ever dropped a syllable to that pur 
 pose, in word or writing ; but was always firm in 
 this principle, that having had a common right with 
 the English to the Fisheries while connected with 
 that nation, and having contributed equally with our 
 blood and treasure, in conquering what had been 
 gained from the French, we had an undoubted right 
 in breaking up our partnership, to a fair division. 
 As to the two charges of age and weakness, I must 
 confess the first ; but I am not quite so clear in the 
 
300 ESSAYS. 
 
 latter ; and perhaps my adversaries may find thai 
 they presumed a little too much upon it when they 
 ventured to attack me. 
 
 But enough of these petty personalities I quit 
 them to rejoice with you in the peace God has bless 
 ed us with, and the prosperity it gives us a prospect 
 of. The definitive treaty was signed the 3d. We 
 are now friends with England, and with all mankind. 
 May we never see another war ! for in my opinion, 
 there never was a good war, or a bad peace 
 Adieu, and believe me ever, 
 My dear friend, 
 
 Yours most affectionately, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN/ 
 
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