i 
 V 
 
 f: 
 
 

 
THE 
 
 WBENJAMIW FRANKLIN 
 
 
 E;R:I GHTJ.T & CHELBS. 
 
PS 
 
 PREFACE* 
 
 ^T^IIE volume which is here presented to the Public, con 
 sists 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 writing memoirs 
 of his own history. These memoirs were brought down 
 to the year 1757. Together with some other manuscripts 
 they were left behind him at his death, and were considered 
 as constituting a part of bis posthumous property. 
 
 The style of these memoirs is uncommonly pleasing-. 
 The story is told with the most unreserved sincerity, and 
 without any false colouring or ornament. We see, in 
 every page, that the author examined his subject with the 
 eye of a master, and related no incidents, the spring arid 
 origin of which he did not perfectly understand. It is 
 this that gives such exquisite and uncommon perspicuity 
 to the detail and delight in the review. 
 
 The Essays which are now, for the first time, brought 
 together from various resources, will be found to be more 
 miscellaneous than any of Dr. Franklin s that have former 
 ly 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 that he was not an unhappy one. 
 The public will be amused with following a great philoso 
 pher in his relaxations, and observing in what respects 
 
 
ri PREPACK. 
 
 philosophy tends to elucidate and improve the most 
 mon subjects. 
 
 It would be superfluous to pronounce any eulogium o 
 the character of this great man ; or to attempt giving 
 further proof of the extent of his genius and the benevo 
 lence of his heart than can be found in the excellent his 
 tory of his life; with two excellent tetters, one from Mr. 
 Thomas Jefferson to the late Dr. William Smith of Phi 
 ladelphia, the other from the late Dr. R. Price, and with 
 two or three well authenticated anecdotes we shall beg 
 leave to introduce the volume to our readers. 
 
 " 1 feel both the wish arid the duty to communicate, id 
 compliance with your request, whatever, withfn my know 
 ledge, might render justice to the memory of our great 
 countryman, Dr. Franklin, in whom Philosophy has to de 
 plore one of its principal luminaries extinguished. But 
 my opportunities of knowing the interesting facts of his 
 life, have not been equal to my desire of making- them 
 known. 
 
 <f 1 can only, therefore, testify in general, that there ap 
 peared to me more respect and veneration attached to the 
 character of Dr. Franklin in France, than to that of any 
 other person in the same country, foreign or native. I had 
 opportunities of knowing particularly, how far these sen 
 timents were felt by the foreign ambassadors and ministers 
 at the court of Versailles. The fable of his capture by 
 the Algerines, propagated by the English newspapers, 
 excited no uneasiness, as it was seen at once to be a dish 
 cooked up to please certain readers ; but nothing could 
 exceed the anxiety of his diplomatic brethren on a subse 
 quent report of his death, which, although premature, 
 some marks of authenticity. 
 
PREFACE. iii 
 
 ** I found the ministers of France equally impressed 
 with his talents and integrity. The count de Vergennes, 
 particularly, gave me repeated and unequivocal demon 
 strations of his entire confldence in him. 
 
 " When he left Passy, it seemed as if the village had 
 lost its patriarch. On taking leave of the court which ho 
 did by letter, the king ordered him to be handsomely com 
 plimented, and furnished him with a litter and mules of 
 his own, the only kind of conveyance, the state of his 
 health could bear. 
 
 " The succession to Dr. Franklin, at the court of France, 
 was an excellent school of humility to me. On being pre 
 sented to any one, as the minister "of America, the com 
 mon-place question was, * c l est tons Monsieur, qui rem- 
 placez le Docteur Franklin ? is it you_ sir, who replace 
 Dr. Franklin ? I generally ans\yered No one can re 
 place him, sir ; I am only his successor. 
 
 " I could here relate a number of those Ion mots, with 
 which he was used to charm every society, as having heard 
 many of them : but these are not your object. Particu 
 lars of greater dignity happened not to occur, during his 
 stay of nine months after my arrival in France. 
 
 " A little before that time, Argand had invented his 
 celebrated lamp, in which the tlame is spread into a 
 hollow cylinder, and thus brought in contact with the air, 
 within as well as without. Dr. Franklin bad been on the 
 point of the same discovery. The idea had occurred to 
 him ; but he had tried a bullrush as a wick, which did not 
 succeed. His occupations did not permit him to repeal 
 and extend his trials to the introduction of a larger 
 column of air, than could pass through the stem of a bull- 
 
SY PREFACE. 
 
 f About that time also, the king of France gate him a 
 fignal testimony of respect, by joining- him with some of 
 the most illustrious men of the nation, to examine that 
 ignus-fatuus of philosophy, the animal magnetism of the 
 maniac Mesner ; the pretended effects of which had asto 
 nished all Paris. From Dr. Franklin s hand in conjunc 
 tion with his brethren of the learned committee, that com 
 pound ot fraud and folly was unveiled, and received its 
 death-wound. After this nothing very interesting was 
 before the public, either in philosophy or politics, during 
 his stay ; and he was principally occupied in winding up 
 liis affairs, and preparing for his return to America. 
 
 "These small offerings to the memory of our great and 
 clear friend, (whom time will be making still greater, while 
 it is spunging us from its records) must be accepted by you, 
 Sir, in that spirit of love and veneration for Ijim, in which 
 they are made ; and not according to their insignificancy 
 in the eyes of the world, which did not want this mite to 
 fill up the measure of his worth. 
 
 " His death was an affliction which was to happen to us 
 at some time or other. We have reason to be thankful 
 lie was so long spared ; that the most useful life should be 
 the longest also ; that it was protracted so far beyond the 
 ordinary span allotted to humanity, as to avail us of his 
 \visdom and virtue, in the establishment of our freedom in 
 the west ; and to bless him with a view of its dawn in the 
 cast, where men seemed till now to have learned every 
 thing but how to t be free." 
 
 The Doctor, in early life, was economical from princi 
 ple ; in hii latter days perhaps from habit. " Poor Richard" 
 held the purse strings of the president of Philadelphia ; 
 yet the following- anecdote, related by Dr. Underbill, will 
 
PREFACE. * 
 
 prove the goodness of his heart, as well as the generosity 
 of his disposition. Soon after I was introduced, writes 
 the Doctor, an airy thoughtless relation of Dr. Franklin s, 
 from New England state, entered the room. It seems he 
 was on a party of pleasure ; and had been so much involv 
 ed in it, for three weeks, as not to have paid his respects 
 to his venerable relative. The purport of his present 
 visit was to solicit the loan of a small sum of moeny, to 
 enable him to pay his bills, and transport himself home, 
 He preluded his request with a detail of embarrassments 
 which might have befallen the most circumspect. The 
 Doctor inquiring how much was the sum, he replied, with 
 some hesitation, fifty dollars. Franklin went to his escri- 
 toir, and counted out a hundred. He received them with 
 many promises of punctual payment, and hastily took up 
 a pen to draw a note of hand for the cash. The Doctor, 
 who perceived the nature of the borrower s embarrassment 
 better than he was aware, and prepossessed with the im 
 probability of ever recovering his cash, again stepped 
 across the room, and laying his hand gently upon his cou 
 sin s arm, said, " Stop cousin, we will save the paper ; a 
 quarter of a sheet is not of great value, but it is worth 
 saving ;" conveying at once a liberal gift and gentle repri 
 mand for the borrower s prevarication and extravagance. 
 
 The death of Dr. Franklin caused a vacancy in 
 society which will not easily be occupied. By it mankind 
 lost a benefactor, humanity a friend, and philosophy its 
 brightest ornament. The celebrated Dr. Richard Price 
 thus writes to a gentleman of Philadelphia upon the sub 
 ject of Franklin s memoirs of himself. 
 
 " 1 am hardly able to tell you how kindly I take the 
 letters with which you favour me. Your last containing 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 fin account of the death of our excellent friend, Dr. Frank 
 lin, and the circumstances attending it, deserves my parti 
 cular gratitude. The account which he has left ot 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 
 Jiistory no lower than the year 1757. and I understand 
 that since he sent once the copy, which I have read, he 
 has fyeen able to make no additions to it. it is with me 
 lancholy regret that I think of his death ; but to death 
 we are all bound by the irrevocable order of jiature, and 
 jn looking forward to it, there is comfort in being able to 
 reflect that we have not lived in vain, and that all the 
 useful and virtuous shall meet in a better country beyond 
 the grave. 
 
 " Dr. Franklin, in the last letter 1 received frpra him, 
 after mentioning his age and infirmities, observes, that it 
 lias 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, amongst which one of 
 the strongest is the loss of dear friends. I was delighted 
 with the account you gave me in your letter pf the honour 
 shewn to his memory at Philadelphia, and by Congress ; 
 and yesterday I received a high additional pleasure, by 
 being informed that the National assembly of France had 
 determined to go into mourning for bin]. What a glori 
 ous scene is opened there ! The annals of the world fur 
 nish no parallel to it. One of the honours of our departed 
 iriend is, that he has contributed much to it. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page, 
 
 LIFE of Dr. Franklin as wrkten by himself . 1 
 
 Continuation ofhis Life, by Dr. Stubor - * . 8G 
 Extracts from his AVill - _ 134 
 
 The Busy Body - ; ; j< r - : * k . - 143 
 
 The Way to Wealth - - > . J " . 171 
 
 Advice to a Young Tradesman - 
 Necessary Hints to those who would be Rich ; 
 The Way to make Money pkuiy in every Man s 
 
 Pocket - . 183 
 
 New Mode of Lending Money - . 184 
 
 An Economical Project - 
 Jhe Whistle - 
 A Petition to those who have the Superinten- 
 
 dency of Education 
 The Handsome and Deformed Leg - 
 Morals of Chess - _-- 
 
 The Art of procuring pleasant dreams - 
 Effect of Early Impressions on the Mind - 
 On Early Marriages - 
 
 - 185 
 
 - 190 
 
 - 193 
 
 - 194 
 
 - 196 
 
 - 201 
 
 - 206 
 
 - 208 
 
 On the Death of Mr. John Franklin - - ?; ;. 5 . 210 
 
 The Ephemera an Emblem of Human Life . 211 
 
 Sketch of an English School r " : r/ * - 214 
 
 Advice to Youth in Reading - - 221 
 
 An Allegorical Dream * 7 > "-^ 222 
 
 Two Letters to George Whatrly, Esq. - \ + <> * 228 
 
 Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout - - . 237 
 Singular Custom among the Americans, called 
 
 White-washing - - . 244 
 
 Answer to the Above *".- 251 
 
 Advice to those who are about to undertake a 
 
 Sea Voyage - * 256 
 
 On the Art of Swimming - - - - " w 261 
 
 On the free use of Air - . . 268 
 
 Description of a new Musical Instrument - 209 
 
 On the best Medium for conveying Sound - - i 274 
 
 On the Harmony of the old Scotch Tunes - - 276 
 
 Best Method of guarding against Lightning- - - 2BU 
 Tendency of Kivers to the Sea Ellect of the Sun s 
 
 Rays on Clotlw of different Colour* - 284 
 
., 
 
 Electrical Kite- 289 
 
 On Lightning- and Electricity - - 20O 
 
 Curious Effects of Oil on Water ^ *. 303 
 
 Ou the stilling of Waves by means of Oil :r 305 
 
 Extract of a Letter on the same - - ",^ 312 
 
 Number of deaths in Philadelphia by Inoculation - 31 
 
 Answer to the preceding - v .*.. - 317 
 
 Kiiects of Lead On the human constitution - 319 
 Observations on the prevailing doctrines of JLife 
 
 and Death i- ( - 322 
 
 On the Price of Corn - * - 224 
 
 On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry - r * - 329 
 
 On Smuggling, and its various species 7 . ; - 334 
 
 Observations on War r * 338 
 
 On the Slave Trade - ~_ + - - 34O 
 
 The Court jof the Press - ^ ^ - * 344 
 
 .A address for the abolition of Slavery - 343 
 
 Plan for improving the condition of the free Blacks - 350 
 
 Paper, a Poem - - r r -*" r - " " ^^ 
 
 Plain Truth ^ 1 - - -4 354 
 *The Examinatioo of JDr. Franklin before the 
 
 House of Commons - * 370 
 
 Attempts of Dr. Franklin for Conciliation - .-^ - 403 
 
 letter from Lord Hood to Dr. Franklin - > 404 
 
 Dr. Franklin s Answer - ; - . - - 405 
 
 Rules for reducing a great Empire - \* *> 408 
 
 A Prussian Edict, assuming Claims over Britain - - 417 
 
 Parable against Persecution - - ~ . ~ n" ^"^ 
 
 Criminal Laws, and the practice of Privateering - - 424 
 
 Remarks concerning the Savages of North America - 431 
 
 The Internal State of America 1784 - - 488 
 
 Information to those who would remove to America - 444 
 
 Concerning ISew Settlements in America - - 454 
 A Comparison of the Conduct of the ancient Jews, and 
 
 the Antifederalists in America - - 455 
 Final Speech of Dr. Franklin, in the late Federal 
 
 Convention - . " /* > .V 460 
 $liort Account of ths ArU and Science* * 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 Dr. Benjamin Franklin, 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 MY DEAR SON, 
 
 J. HAVE amused myself with collecting some little 
 anecdotes of my family. You may remember the enqui 
 ries I made, when you were with me in England, among; 
 such of my relations as were then living ; and the journey 
 I undertook for that purpose. To be acquainted with the 
 particulars of my parentage and life, many of which are 
 unknown to you, I flatter myself will afford the same 
 pleasure to you as to me. I shall relate them upon paper : 
 it will be an agreeable employment of a week s uninter 
 rupted leisure, which I promise myself during my present 
 retirement in the country. There are also other motives 
 which induce me to the undertaking. From ftie bosom 
 of poverty and obscurity, in which I drew my first breath, 
 and spent my earliest years, I have raised myself to a 
 state of opulence and to some degree of celebrity in the 
 world. A constant good fortune has attended me through 
 every period of life to my present advanced age ; and my 
 descendants may be desirous of learning what were the 
 means of which I made use, and which, thanks to the 
 assisting hand of Providence, have proved so eminently 
 
2 LIFE OF DR. F&ANKLIN. 
 
 successful. They may also, should they ever be placed 
 in a similar situation, derive some advantage from my 
 narrative. 
 
 When I reflect, as I frequently do, upon the felicity I 
 have enjoyed, I sometimes say to myself, that, were the 
 offer made me, I would engage to run again, from begin 
 ning to end, the same career of life. All I would ask, 
 should be the privilege of an author, to correct, in a se 
 cond edition, certain errors of the first. I could wish, 
 likewise, if it were in my power, to change some trivial 
 incidents and events for others more favourable. Were 
 this, however, denied me, still would I not decline the 
 offer. But, since a repetition of life cannot take place, there 
 is nothing which, in my opinion, so nearly resembles it, 
 as to call to mind all its circumstances, and, to render 
 their remembrance more durable, commit them to writing. 
 By thus employing myself, I shall yield to the inclination, 
 so natural in old men, to talk of themselves and their ex 
 ploits, 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 li 
 berty to read me or not as they please. In fine and I 
 may as well avow it, since nobody would believe me were 
 I to deny it I shall, perhaps, by this employment, gratify 
 my vanity. Scarcely indeed have 1 ever read or heard the 
 introductory phrase, " I may say without vanity," but 
 some striking and characteristic instance of vanity has im 
 mediately followed. The generality of men hate vanity in 
 others, however strongly they may be tinctured with it 
 themselves : for myself, I pay obeisance to it wherever I 
 meet with it, persuaded that it is advantageous, as well 
 to the individual whom it governs, as to those who are 
 within the sphere of its influence. Of consequence, it 
 would, in many cases, not be wholly absurd, that a man 
 should count his vanity among the other sweets of life, 
 and give tkanks to Providence for the blessing. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 And here let me with all humility acknowledge, that to 
 divine Providence I am indebted for the felicity 1 have 
 hitherto enjoyed. It is that power alone which has fur 
 nished 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 pro 
 longing the duration of my happiness to the close of life, or 
 by giving me fortitude to support any melancholy reverse, 
 which may happen to me, as to so many others. My fu 
 ture fortune is unknown but to Him in whose hands is our 
 destiny, and who can make our very afflictions subservient 
 to our benefit. 
 
 One of my uncles, desirous, like myself, of collecting 
 anecdotes of our family, gave me some notes, from which 
 I have derived many particulars respecting our ancestors. 
 From these I learn, that they had lived in the same village 
 (Eaton, in Northamptonshire) upon a freehold of about 
 thirty acres, for the space at least of three hundred years. 
 How long they had resided there prior to that period, my 
 uncle had been unable to discover ; probably ever since the 
 institution of surnames, when they took the appellation of 
 Franklin, Avhich had formerly been the name of a particu 
 lar order of individual. s* 
 
 This petty estate would not have sufficed for their sub 
 sistence, had they not added the trade of blacksmith, which 
 was perpetuated in the family down to my uncle s time, the 
 
 * Franklin was antiently the common name of an order or 
 rank in England, and is thus amiably characterized by 
 Chaucer : 
 
 This worthy Franklin bore a purse of silk, 
 Fix d to his girdle, white as morning milk ; 
 Knight of the shire, first justice at th assize, 
 To help the poor, the doubtful to advise. 
 In all employments, generous, just, he prov d, 
 Renown d for courtesy, by all belov d. 
 
4 LIFE OF DR. 
 
 eldest son having been uniformly brought up to this em 
 ployment : a custom which both he and my lather observ 
 ed with respect to their eldest sons. 
 
 In the researches I made at Eaton, I found no account 
 of their births, marriages, and deaths, earlier than the year 
 1555 ; the parish register not extending farther back than 
 that period. This register informed me, that I was the 
 youngest son of the youngest branch of the family, counting 
 five generations. My grandfather, Thomas, who was born 
 in 1598, lived at Eaton till he was too old to continue his 
 trade, when he retired to Banbury, in Oxfordshire, where 
 his son John, who was a dyer, resided, and with whom my 
 father was apprenticed. He died, and was buried there : 
 we saw his monument in 1758. His eldest son lived in 
 the family house at Eaton, which he bequeathed, with the 
 land belonging to it, to his only daughter ; who, in con 
 cert with her husband, Mr. Fisher, of Wellingborough, 
 afterwards sold it to Mr. Estead, the present proprietor. 
 
 My grandfather had four surviving sons, Thomas, John, 
 Benjamin, and Josias. I shall give you such particulars 
 of them as my memory will furnish, not having my papers 
 here, in which you will find a more -minute account, if they 
 are not lost during my absence. 
 
 Thomas had learned the trade of a blacksmith under his 
 father ; but possessing a good natural understanding, he 
 improved it by study, at the solicitation of a gentleman of 
 the name of Palmer, who was at that time the principal in 
 habitant of the village, and who encouraged, in like man 
 ner, all my uncles to cultivate their minds. Thomas thus 
 rendered himself competent to the functions of a country 
 attorney ; soon became an essential personage in the af 
 fairs of the village ; .and was one of the chief movers of 
 every public enterprise, as well relative to the county as 
 the town of Northampton. A variety of remarkable 
 incidents were told us of him at Eaton. After enjoying 
 ike esteem and patronage of Lord Halifax, he died 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 6 
 
 January 6, 1702, precisely four years befdre I was born. 
 The recital that was made us of his life and character,*, by 
 some aged persons of the village, struck you I remem 
 ber, as extraordinary, from its analogy to what you knew of 
 myself. " Had he died," said you, "just four years later 
 one might have supposed a transmigration of souls." 
 
 J ohn, to the best of my belief, was brought up to the 
 trade of a wool-dyer. 
 
 Benjaman served his apprenticeship in London, to a silk- 
 dyer . He was an industrious man : I remember him well, 
 for, while I was a child, he joined my father at Boston, 
 and lived for some years in the house with us. A particular 
 affection had always subsisted between my father and him 
 and I was his godson. He arrived to a great age. He 
 left behind him two quarto volumes of poems in manuscript, 
 consisting of little fugitive pieces addressed to his friends. 
 He had invented a short-hand, which he taught me^; but 
 Laving never made use of it, I have uow forgotten it. He 
 was a man of piety, and a constant attendant on the best 
 preachers, whose sermons he took a pleasure in writing 
 down according to the expeditory method he had devised. 
 Many volumes were thus collected by him. He was al 
 so extremely fond of politics, too much so, perhaps, for 
 his situation. I lately found in London a collection 
 which he had made of all the principal pamphlets relative to 
 public affairs, from the year 1641 to 1717. Many volumes 
 are wanting, as appears by the series of numbers ; but 
 there still remain eight in folio, and twenty-four in quarto 
 and octavo. The collection had fallen into the hands of a 
 second-hand bookseller, who, knowing me by having sold 
 me some books, brought it to me. My uncle, it seems 
 had left it behind him on his departure for America, about 
 fifty years ago. I found various notes of his writing in the 
 margins. His grandson, Samuel, is now living at Boston. 
 
 Our humble family had early embraced the Reforma 
 tion. They remained faithfully attached during the reign 
 
6 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 of Queen Mary, when they were in danger of being mo 
 lested on account of their zeal against popery. They 
 had an English bible, and, to conceal it the more secure 
 ly, they conceived the project of fastening it, open, with 
 pack-threads across the leaves, on the inside of the lid of 
 the close-stool. When my great-grandfather wished to 
 read to his family, he reversed the lid of the close-stool 
 upon his knees, and passed the leaves from one side to 
 the other, which were held down on each by the pack 
 thread. One of the children was stationed at the door, to 
 give notice if he saw the proctor (an officer of the spiritual 
 court) make his appearance : in that case, the lid was re 
 stored to its place, with the bible concealed under it as 
 before. I had this anecdote from my uncle Benjamin. 
 
 The whole family preserved its attachment to the 
 Church of England till towards the close of the reign of 
 Charles II. when certain ministers, who had been ejected 
 as nonconformists, having held conventicles in Northamp 
 tonshire, they were joined by Benjamin and Josias, who 
 adhered to them ever after. The rest of the family con 
 tinued 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 considerable per 
 sons of his acquaintance determined to go to America, 
 where they hoped to enjoy the free exercise of their reli 
 gion, and my father was prevailed on to accompany 
 them. 
 
 My father had also by the same wife, four children born 
 in America, and ten others by a second wife, making in 
 all seventeen. I remember to have seen thirteen seated 
 together at his table, who all arrived to years of maturity, 
 and were married. I was the last of the sons, and 
 the youngest child, excepting two daughters. I was born 
 at Boston, in New England. My mother, the second 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 7 
 
 wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one 
 of the first colonists of New England, of whom Cotton 
 Mather makes honourable mention, in his Ecclesiastical 
 History of that province, as " a pious and learned English 
 man," if J rightly recollect his expressions. I have been 
 told of his having written a variety of little pieces ; but 
 there appears to be only one in print, which I met with ma 
 ny years ago. It was publised in the year 1675, and isiii 
 lamiliar verse agreeably to the taste of the times and the 
 country. The autho, addresses himself to the governors 
 for the time being, speaks for liberty of conscience, and in 
 favour of the anabaptists, quakers, and other sectaries, who 
 had suffered persecution. To this persecution he attributes 
 the war with the natives, and other calamities which afflic* 
 ted the country, regarding them as the judgments of God 
 in punishment of so odious an offence, and he exhorts the 
 government to the repeal of laws so contrary to charity. 
 The poem appeared to be written with a manly freedom 
 and a pleasing simplicity. I recollect the six concluding- 
 lines, though I have forgotten the order of words of the 
 two first ; the sense of which was, that his censures were 
 dictated by benevolence, and that, of consequence, he 
 wished to be known as the author ; because, said he, 1 
 hate from my very soul dissimulation ; 
 
 From Sherburn,* where I dwell, 
 
 I therefore put my name, 
 Your friend, who means you well, 
 
 PETER FOLGER. 
 
 My brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. 
 With respect to myself, I was sent, at the age of eight 
 years, to a grammar-school. My father destined me for 
 the church, and already regarded me as the chaplain of 
 
 * Town in the island of Nantaket, 
 
3 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 the family. The promptitude with which from my infancy 
 1 had learned to read, tor I do not remember to have been 
 ever without this acquirement, and the encouragement of 
 his friends who assured him, that I should one day certainly 
 become a man of letters, confirmed him in this design. My 
 uncle Benjamin approved also of the scheme and promised 
 to give me all his volumes of sermons written, as I have said 
 in the short-hand of his invention, if I would take the pains 
 to learn it. 
 
 I remained, however, scarcely a year at the grammar- 
 school, although, in this short interval, I had risen from 
 the middle to the head of my class, from thence to the class 
 immediately above, and was to pass, at the end of the year 
 to the one next in order. But my father, burdened with a 
 numerous family, found that he was incapable, without sub 
 jecting himself to difficulties, of providing for the expences 
 of a collegiate education ; and considering besides, as I 
 heard him say to his friends, that persons so educated were 
 often poorly provided for, he renounced his first intentions, 
 took me from the grammar-school, and sent me to a school 
 for writing and arithmetic, kept by a Mr. George Brown* 
 well, who was a skilful master, and succeeded very well in 
 his profession by employing gentle means only, and such as 
 were calculated to encourage his scholars. Under him I 
 soon acquired an excellent hand ; but I failed in arithmetic, 
 and made therein no sort of progress. 
 
 At ten years of age, I was callM home to assist my father 
 in his occupation, which was that of a soap-boiler and tal 
 low-chandler ; a business to which he had served no appren 
 ticeship, but which he embraced on his arrival in New Eng 
 land, because he found his own, that of dyer, in too Hrtle 
 request to enable him to maintain his family, I was accor 
 dingly employed in cutting the wicks, filling the moulds, ta 
 king <;are of the shop, carrying messages, &c. 
 
 This business displeased me, and I felt a strong inclina 
 tion for a sea life ; but my father set his face against it. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 9 
 
 The vicinity of the water, however, gave me frecjuent op 
 portunities of venturing myself both upon and within it, and 
 I soon acquired the art of swimming, and of managing a 
 boat. When embarked with other children, the helm was 
 commonly deputed to me, particularly on difficult occasions ; 
 and, in every other project, I was almost always the leader 
 of the troop, whom I sometimes involved in embarrassments. 
 I shall give an instance of this, which demonstrates an early 
 disposition of mind for public enterprises, though the one 
 in question was not conducted by justice. 
 
 The mill-pond was terminated on one side by a marsh, 
 upon the borders of which we were accustomed to take our 
 stand, at high water, to angle for small fish. By dint of 
 walking, we had converted the place into a perfect quag 
 mire. My proposal was to erect a wharf that should afford 
 us firm footing ; and I pointed out to my companions a 
 large heap of stones, intended for the building a new house 
 near the marsh, and which were well adapted for our pur 
 pose. Accordingly, when the workmen retired in the even 
 ing, I assembled a number of my playfellows, and by la 
 bouring 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 sur 
 prised the next morning at not finding their stones ; which 
 had been conveyed to our wharf. Inquiries were made re 
 specting the authors of this conveyance ; we were discorer- 
 ed ; complaints were exhibited against us ; and many of us 
 underwent correction on the part of our parents; and 
 though I strenuously defended the utility of the work, my 
 father at length convinced me, that nothing which was not 
 strictly honest could be useful. 
 
 It will not, perhaps, be uninteresting to you to know 
 what a sort of man my father was. He had an excellent 
 constitution, was of a middle size, but well made and strong, 
 and extremely active in whatever he undertook. He de 
 signed with a degree of neatness, and knew a little of 
 
10 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 
 
 music. His voice was sonorous and agreeable ; so thaf 
 when he sung- a psalm or hymn, with the accompaniment of 
 his violin, as was his frequent practice in an evening, when 
 the labours of the day were finished, it was truly delightful 
 to hear him. He was versed also in mechanics, and could, 
 upon occasion, use the tools of a variety of trades. But 
 his greatest excellence was a sound understanding and solid 
 judgment, in matters of prudence, both in public and private 
 life. In the former, indeed, he never engaged, because 
 his numerous family, and the mediocrity of his fortune, kept 
 him unremittingly employed in the duties of his profession. 
 But I well remember, that the leading men of the place used 
 frequently to come and ask his advice respecting the affairs 
 of the town or of the church to which he belonged, and that 
 they paid much deference to his opinion. Individuals were 
 also in the habit of consulting him in their private affairs, and 
 he was often chosen arbiter betwen contending parties. 
 
 He was fond of having at his table, as often as possible, 
 some friends or well-informed neighbours, capable of ration 
 al conversation, and he was always careful to introduce use 
 ful or ingenious topics of discourse, which might tend to 
 form the minds of his children. By this means he early at 
 tracted our attention to what was just, prudent, and bene 
 ficial in the, conduct of life. He never talked of the meats 
 which appeared upon the table, never discussed whether 
 they were well or ill dressed, of a good or bad flavour, high- 
 seasoned or otherwise, preferable or inferior to this or that 
 dish of a similar kind. Thus accustomed, from my infancy, 
 to the utmost inattention as to these objects, I have been 
 perfectly regardless of what kind of food was before me ; and 
 I pay so little attention to it even now, that it would be a hard 
 matter for me to recollect, a few hours after I had dined, of 
 what my dinner had consisted. When travelling, I have 
 particularly experienced the advantage of this habit; for it 
 has often happened to me to be in company with persons, 
 who, having a more, delicate, because a more exercised, 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. li 
 
 taste have suffered in many cases considerable Inconveni 
 ence ; while as to myself, I have had nothing to desire* 
 
 My mother was likewise possessed of an excellent con 
 stitution. She suckled all her ten children, and I never 
 heard either her or my father complain of any other disor 
 der than that of which they died : my father at the age of 
 eighty-seven, and my mother at eighty-five. They are bu* 
 ried together at Boston, where, a few years ago, I placed a 
 marble over their grave, with this inscription : 
 
 " Here lie 
 
 " JOSIAS FRANKLIN, and ABIAH, his wife; they lived 
 " together with reciprocal affection for fifty-nine years ; and 
 " without private fortune, without lucrative employment, by 
 " assiduous Jabour and honest industry, decently supported 
 " a numerous family, and educated, with success, thirteen 
 ? children and seven grand children. Let this example, 
 " reader, encourage thee diligently to discharge the duties 
 " of thy calling, and to rely on the support of divine Provi- 
 " dence. 
 
 " He was pious and prudent, 
 " She discreet and virtuous. 
 
 * Their youngest son, from a sentiment of filial duty, 
 
 " consecrates this stone 
 
 f to their memory." 
 
 I perceive, by my rambling digressions, that I am grow 
 ing old. But we do not dress for a private company as for 
 a formal ball. This deserves, perhaps, the name of negli 
 gence. 
 
 To return. I thus continued employed in my father s 
 trade for the space of two years ; that is to say, till I ar 
 rived at twelve years of age. About this time, my brother 
 John, who had served his apprenticeship in London, hav 
 ing quitted my father, and being married and settled in 
 business on his own account at Rhode Island, I was des 
 tined, to all appearance, to supply his place, and be a can- 
 
12 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 die-maker all ray life : but my dislike of this occupation 
 continuing, my father was apprehensive, that, if a more 
 agreeable one were not offered me, I might play the tru 
 ant 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 Cent of my inclination, and fix it if he could upon soma 
 occupation that might retain me on shore. I have since, 
 in consequence of these visets; derived no small pleasure 
 from seeing skilful workmen handle their tools ; and it has 
 proved of considerable benefit to have acquired thereby 
 sufficient knowledge, to be able to make little things for my 
 self, when I have had no mechanic at hand, and to con 
 struct small machines for my experiments, while the idea 
 I have conceived has been fresh and strongly impressed 
 on my imagination. 
 
 My father at length decided that I should be a cutler, 
 and I was placed for some days upon trial with my cousin 
 Samuel, son of my uncle Benjamin who had learned this 
 trade in London, and had established himself at Boston. 
 But the premium he required for my apprenticeship dis 
 pleasing my father, I was recalled home. 
 
 From my earliest years I had been passionately fond of 
 reading, and I laid out in books all the money I could pro 
 cure. I was particularly pleased with accounts of voyages. 
 My first acquisition was Bunyan s works, in small separate 
 volumes. These I afterwards sold in order jto buy an his 
 torical collection by R. Burton, Nvhieh consisted of small 
 cheap volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. 
 My father s little library was principally made up of books 
 of practical and polemical theology. I read the greatest part 
 of them. I have since often regretted that, at a time when 
 I had so great a thirst for knowledge, more eligible books 
 had not fallen into my hands, as it was then a point decided 
 that I should not be educated for the church. There was 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 13 
 
 also among my lather s books, Plutarch s Lives, in which 
 I read continually, and I still regard as advantageously em 
 ployed the time devoted to them. I found besides a work 
 of De Foe s, entitled an Essay on Projects, from which, per 
 haps, I derived impressions that have since influenced some 
 ef the principal events of my life. 
 
 My inclination for books at last determined my father to 
 make me a printer, though he had already a son in that pro 
 fession. My brother had returned from England in 1717, 
 with a press and types, in order to establish a prin ang- 
 house at Boston. This business pleased me much better 
 than that of my father, though I had still a predilection for 
 the sea. To prevent the effects which might result from 
 this inclination, my father was impatient to see me engaged 
 with my brother. I held back for some time ; at length 
 however, I suffered my self to be persuaded, and signed my 
 indentures, being then only twelve years of age. It was 
 agreed that I should serve as an apprentice to the age of 
 twenty-one, and should receive journeyman s wages only 
 during the last year. 
 
 In a very short time I made great proficiency in this bu 
 siness, and became very serviceable to my brother. I had 
 now an opportunity of procuring -better books. The ac 
 quaintance I necessarily formed with booksellers apprenti 
 ces, enabled me to borrow a volume now and then, which 
 I never failed to return punctually and without injury. 
 How often has it happened to me to pass the greater part 
 of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book had 
 been lent me in the evening, and was to be returned the 
 next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted ! 
 
 At length, Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious trades 
 man, who had a handsome collection of books, and who 
 frequented our printing-house, took notice of me. He in 
 vited 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. 
 
H LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN* 
 
 My brother thinking he might find hjs account in it, encoit* 
 raged me, and engaged me to write two ballads. One, 
 called the Light-house Tragedy, contained an account of 
 the shipwreck of captain Worthilake and his two daugh 
 ters ; the other was a sailor s song on the capture of the 
 noted pirate called Teach, or Blackbeard. They were 
 wretched verses in point of style, mere blind-men s ditties. 
 \Vhen printed, he (Despatched me about the town to sell 
 them. The first had a prodigious run, because the event 
 was recent, and had made a great noise. 
 
 My vanity was flattered by this success ; but my father 
 checked my exultation, by ridiculing my productions, and 
 telling me that versifiers were always poor. I thus escaped 
 the misfortune of being a very wretched poet. But as the 
 faculty of writing prose has been of great service to me in 
 the course of my life, and principally contributed to my ad 
 vancement, I shall relate by what means, situated as I was, 
 I acquired the small skill I may possess in that way. 
 
 There was in the town another young man, a great lover 
 of books, of the name of John Collins, with whom I was 
 intimately connected. We frequently engaged in dispute, 
 and were indeed so fond of argumentation, that nothing 
 was so agreeable to us as a war of words. This contentious 
 temper, I would observe by the bye, is in danger of becom 
 ing a very bad habit ; and frequently renders a man s compa 
 ny insupportable, as being no otherwise capable of indul 
 gence than by an indiscriminate contradiction. Indepen 
 dently of the acrimony and discord it introduces into con 
 versation, it is often productive of dislike, and even hatred, 
 between persons to whom friendship is indispensibly neces- 
 sary. I acquired it by reading, while I lived with my father, 
 books of religious controversy. I have since remarked, 
 that men of sense seldom fall into this error : lawyers, fellows 
 of universities, and persons of every profession educated 
 at Edinburgh, excepted. 
 
 Collins and I fell one day into an argument, relative to 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 15 
 
 the education of women ; namely, whether it was proper to 
 instruct them in the sciences, and whether they were com 
 petent to the study. Collins supported the negative, and 
 affirmed that the task was beyond their capacity. I maiii- 
 ained the opposite opinion, a little perhaps for the pleasure 
 ef disputing. He was naturally more eloquent then I ; 
 words flowed copiously from his lips ; and frequently 1 
 thought myself vanquished, more by his volubility, than by 
 the force of his arguments. We separated without coming- 
 to an agreement upon this point ; and as we were not to 
 see each other again for some time, I committed my 
 thoughts to paper, made a fair copy, and sent it him. He 
 answered, and I replied. Three or four letters had been 
 written by each, when my father chanced to light upon my 
 papers and read them. Without entering into the merits of 
 the cause, he embraced the opportunity of speaking to me 
 upon my manner of writing. He observed, that though 1 
 had the advantage of my adversary in correct spelling and 
 pointing, which I owed to my occupation, I was greatly his 
 inferior in elegance of expression, in arrangement, and per 
 spicuity. Of this he convinced me by several examples. 1 
 felt the justice of his remarks, became more attentive to 
 language, and resolved to make every effort to improve my 
 style. 
 
 Amidst these resolves, an odd volume of the Spectator 
 feli into my hands. This was a publication I had never* 
 seen. I bought the volume, and read it again and again. 
 I was enchanted with it, thought the style excellent, and 
 wished it were in my power to imitate it. With this view, 
 I selected some of the papers, made short summaries of 
 the sense of each period, and put them for a few days aside. 
 1 then, without looking at the book, endeavoured to restore 
 the essays to their due form, and to express each thought at 
 length, as it was in the original, employing the most appro 
 priate words that occurred to my mind.. I afterwards com 
 pared my Spectator with the original ; I perceived some 
 
16 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLItf, 
 
 faults, which I corrected ; but I found that I wanted a fund 
 of words, if I may so express myself, and a facility of recol 
 lecting and employing them, which I thought I should by 
 that time have acquired, had I continued to make verses. 
 The continual need of words of the same meaning, but of 
 different lengths for the measure, or of different sounds for 
 the rhyme, would have obliged me to seek for a variety of 
 synonymes, and have rendered me master of them. From 
 this belief, I took some of the tales of the Spectator and 
 turned them into verse ; and after a time, when I had suffi 
 ciently fogotten them, I again converted them into prose. 
 
 Sometimes also I mingled all my summaries together; 
 and a few weeks after, endeavoured to arrange them in the 
 best order, before I attempted to form the periods and com 
 plete the essays. This I did with a view of acquiring me 
 thod in the arrangement of my thoughts. On comparing 
 afterwards my performance with the original, many faults 
 were apparent, which I corrected : but I had sometimes 
 the satisfaction to think, that, in certain particulars of little 
 importance, I had been fortunate enough to improve the 
 order of thought or the style : and this encouraged me to 
 hope that I should succeed, in time, in writing decently in 
 the English language, which was one of the great objects of 
 my ambition. 
 
 The time which I devoted to these exercises, and to read 
 ing, was the evening after my day s labour was finished, 
 the morning before it began, and Sundays when I could 
 escape attending divine service. While I lived with my 
 father, he had insisted on my punctual attendance on public 
 worship, and I still indeed considered it as a duty, but a 
 duty which I thought I had no time to practise. 
 
 When about sixteen years of age, a work of Tryon s fell 
 into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable diet. 
 1 determined to observe it. My brother being a bachelor, 
 did not keep house, but boarded with his apprentices in a 
 neighbouring family. My refusing to eat animal food was 
 
LIFE OF Dft. FRAXKLlK. 17 
 
 found inconvenient, and I was often scolded for my singula 
 rity. I attended to the mode in which Try on prepared 
 some of his dishes, particularly how to boil potatoes and 
 rice, and make hasty puddings. I then said to my brother 
 that if he would allow me per week, half what he paid for 
 my board, I would undertake to maintain myself. The off 
 er was instantly embraced, and I soon found that of what, 
 he gave me, 1 was able to save half. This was a new fund 
 for the purchase of books, and other advantages resulted 
 to me from the plan. When my brother and his workmen 
 left the printing-house to goto dinner, I remained behind, 
 and dispatching my frugal meal, which frequently consisted 
 of a biscuit only, or a slice of bread and a bunch of raisins, 
 or a bun from the pastry-cook s, with a glass of water, 1 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 tempe- 
 rence in eating and drinking. 
 
 It was about this period, that having one day been put to 
 the blush for my ignorance in the art of calculation, which 
 I had twice failed to learn while at school ; I took 
 Cocker s Treatise of Arithmetic, and went through it 
 by myself with the utmost ease. I also read a book of navi 
 gation by Seller and Sturmy, and made myself master of the 
 little geometry it contains, but I never proceeded far in this 
 science. Nearly at the same time, I read Locke on the 
 Human Understanding, and the Art of Thinking, by 
 Messrs, du Port Ifcyal. " 
 
 While labouring to form and improve my style, I met 
 with an English Grammar, which I believe was Green- 
 wood s, having at the end of it two little essays on rhetoric 
 and logic. In the latter, I found a model of disputation, 
 after the manner of Socrates. Shortly after, I procured 
 Xenophon s work, entitled Memorable Things of Socrates, 
 m which are various examples of the same method. Charm* 
 ed to a degree of enthusiasm with this mode of disputing, I 
 
18 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN* 
 
 adopted it, and, renouncing blunt contradiction and direct 
 and positive argument, I assumed the character of an hum 
 ble questioner. The perusal of Shaftsbury and Collins had 
 made me a sceptic : and being previously so as to many 
 doctrines of Chrietianity, I found Socrates s method to be 
 both safest for myself, as well as the most embarrassing to 
 those against whom I employed it. It soon afforded me 
 singular pleasure ; 1 incessantly practised it : and became 
 very adroit in obtaining, even from persons of superior un 
 derstanding, concessions of which they did not foresee th 
 consequence. Thus I involved them in difficulties from 
 which they were unable to extricate themselves, and some 
 times obtained 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 diffidence, and ne 
 ver 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 ob 
 stinately attached to my opinion. I rather said, I imagine, 
 I suppose, or it appears to me, that such a thing is so or so, 
 for such and such reasons ; or it is so, if I am not mistaken. 
 This habit has, I think, been of considerable advantage to 
 me, when I have had occasion to impress my opinion on 
 the minds of others, and persuade them to the adoption of 
 the measures I have suggested. And since the chief ends 
 of conversation are, to inform or be informed, to please or 
 to persuade, I could wish that intelligent or well-meaning 
 men would not themselves diminish the power they possess 
 of being useful, by a positive and presumptuous manner 
 of expressing themselves, which scarcely ever fails to dis 
 gust the hearer, and is only calculated to excite opposition, 
 and defeat every purpose for which the faculty of speech 
 has been bestowed on man. In short, if you wish to inform, 
 a positive and dogmatical muimer of advancing your opi- 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 10 
 
 nion may provoke contradiction, and prevent your being 
 heard with attention. On the other hand, if, with a desiro 
 of being informed, and of benefiting by the knowledge of 
 others, you express yourself as being strongly attached 
 to your own opinions, modest and sensible men, who 
 do not love disputation, will leave you in tranquil posses 
 sion of your errors. By following such a method, you 
 can rarely hope to please your auditors, conciliate their 
 good-will, or work conviction on those whom you may be 
 desirous of gaining over to your views. Pope judiciously 
 observes, 
 
 Men must be taught, as if you taught them not, 
 
 And things unknown propos d as things forgot. 
 And in the same poem, he afterwards advises us 
 
 To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence. 
 He might have added to these hues, one that he has 
 coupled elsewhere, in my opinion, with less propriety, ft 
 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 bo 
 so circumstanced, is it not a kind of excuse for want of mo 
 desty ? 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 pub- 
 Jk paper. It was the second that made its appearance in 
 America, and was entitled, " The New England Courant." 
 The only one that existed before was the " Boston News 
 
20 LIFE OF Dll. FRANKLIN. 
 
 "Letter." Some of his friends, I remember, would havfc 
 dissuaded him from this undertaking, as a thing that was 
 not likely to succeed ; a single newspaper being, in their 
 opinion, sufficient for all America. At present, however* 
 in 1771, there are no less than twenty-five. But he carri 
 ed his project into execution, and I was employed in distri 
 buting the copies to his customers, after having assisted 
 in composing and working them off. 
 
 Among his friends he had a number of literary charac 
 ters, who, as an amusement, wrote short essays for the pa 
 per, which gave it reputation and increased the sale. 
 These gentlemen frequently came to our house. I heard 
 the conversation that passed, and the accounts they gave 
 of the favourable reception of their writings with the pub 
 lic, I was tempted to try my hand among them ; but, be 
 ing still a child as it were, I was fearful that my brother 
 might be unwilling to print in his paper any performance 
 of which he should know me to be the author. I therefore 
 contrived to disguise my hand, and having written an ano 
 nymous piece, I placed it at night under the door of the 
 printing-house, where it was found the next morning. 
 My brother communicated it to his friends, when they 
 came as usual to see him ; who read it, commented upon 
 it within my hearing, and I had the exquisite pleasure to 
 lind that it met with their approbation, and that in the vari 
 ous conjectures they made respecting the author, no one 
 was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the 
 country for talents and genius. I now supposed myself 
 fortunate in my judges, and began to suspect that they were 
 not such excellent writers as I had hitherto supposed them. 
 JJe this as it may, encouraged by this little adventure, I 
 wrote, and sent to press in the same way, many other pieces, 
 which were equally approved: keeping the secret till my 
 slender stock of information and knowledge for such per* 
 formances was pretty completely exhausted, when 1 
 made myself known. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 51 
 
 My brother, upon this discovery, began to entertain a 
 fttle more respect for me ; but he still regarded himself as 
 my master, and treated me as an apprentice. He thought 
 Jiimself entitled to the same services from me, as from any 
 pther person. On the contrary, I conceived that, in many 
 instances, he was too rigorous, and that, on the part of a 
 brother, I had a right to expect greater indulgence. Our 
 disputes were frequently brought before my father ; and ei 
 ther my brother was generally wrong, or I was the better 
 pleader of the two, for judgment was commonly given in 
 my favour. But my brother was passionate, and often had 
 recourse to blows a circumstance which I took in very ill 
 part. This severe and tyrannical treatment contributed, 
 1 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 con 
 tinually 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 1 
 presume, he would not discover the author. I was also 
 taken up, and examined before the council ; but though I 
 gave them no satisfaction, they contented themselves with 
 reprimanding, and then dismissed me ; considering me pro 
 bably as bound, in quality of apprentice, to keep my mas 
 ter s secrets. 
 
 The imprisonment of my brother kindled my resentment, 
 notwithstanding our private quarrels. During its continu 
 ance, the management of the paper was entrusted to me, 
 and I was bold enough to insert some pasquinades against 
 the governors ; which highly pleased my brother, while 
 others began to look upon me in an unfavourable point of 
 view, considering me as a young wit inclined to satire 
 and lampoon, 
 
22 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 
 
 My brother s enlargement was accompanied with an ar 
 bitrary order from the house of the assembly, " That James 
 Franklin should no longer print the newspaper entitled 
 The New England Courant. " In this conjuncture, we held 
 a consultation of our friends at the printing-house, in or 
 der to determine what was proper to be done. Some pro 
 posed to evade the order, by changing the title of the pa 
 per : but my brother, foreseeing inconveniences that would 
 result from this step, thought it better that it should be in 
 future printed in the name of Benjamin Franklin ; and to 
 avoid the censure of the assembly, who might charge him 
 with still printing the paper himself under the name of his 
 apprentice, it was resolved that my old indentures should 
 be given up to me, with a full and entire discharge written 
 on the back, in order to be produced upon an emergency ; 
 but that, to secure to my brother the benefit of my service, 
 J should sign a new contract, which should be kept secret 
 during the remainder of the term. This was a very shal 
 low arrangement. It was, however, carried into immedi 
 ate execution ; and the, paper continued, in consequence, 
 to make its appearance for some months in my name. At 
 length, a new difference arising between my brother and 
 me, I ventured to take advantage of my liberty, presuming 
 that he would not dare to produce the new contract. It 
 was undoubtedly dishonourable to avail myself of this cir 
 cumstance, and I reckon this action as one of the first 
 errors of my life ; but I was little capable of estimating it 
 at its true value, embittered as my mind had been by the 
 recollection of the blows I had received. Exclusively of 
 his passionate treatment of me, my brother was by no 
 means a man of an ill temper, and perhaps my manners 
 had too much impertinence not to afford it a very natural 
 pretext. 
 
 When he knew that it was my determination to quit him, 
 he wished to prevent my finding employment elsewhere* 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 23 
 
 He went to all the printing-houses in the town, and pre- 
 iudiced the masters against toe who accordingly refused 
 to employ me. The idea then suggested itself to me of go 
 ing to JNew York, the nearest town in which there was a 
 printing-office. Farther reflection confirmed me in the de 
 sign of leaving Boston, where I had already rendered myself 
 an object of suspicion to the governing party. It was pro 
 bable, from the arbitrary proceedings of the assembly in 
 the affair of my brother, that, by remaining, I? should soon 
 have been exposed to difficulties, which I had the greater 
 reason to apprehend, as, from my indiscreet disputes upon 
 the subject of religion, I began to be regarded by pious 
 souls with horror, either as an apostate or an atheist. 1 
 came, therefore, to a resolution : but my father, in this in 
 stance siding with my brother, I presumed that, if I at 
 tempted to depart openly, measures would be taken to pre 
 vent me. My friend Collins undertook to favour my flight. 
 He agreed for my passage with the captain of a New York 
 sloop, to whom he represented me as a young man of his ac 
 quaintance, who had an affair with a girl of bad character, 
 whose parents wished to compel me to marry her, and that 
 of consequence I could neither make my appearance nor go 
 off publicly. I sold part of my books to procure a small 
 sum of money, and went privately on board the sloop. 
 By favour of a good wind, I found myself in three days at 
 New York, nearly three hundred miles from my home, at 
 the age of seventeen years, without knowing an individual 
 in the place, and with very little money in my pocket. 
 
 The inclination I had felt for a sea-faring life had entire 
 ly subsided, or I should now have been able to gratify it ; 
 but having another trade, and believing myself to be a tole 
 rable workman, I hesitated not to offer my services to old 
 Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first printer in 
 Pennsylvania, but had quitted that province on account of 
 a q mrrel with George Keith, the governor. He could 
 
4 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 not give me employment himself, having little to do and al 
 ready as many persons as he wanted ; but he told me that 
 his son, a printer at Philadelphia, had lately lost his princi 
 pal workman, Aquilla Rose, who was dead, and that, if I 
 would go thither, he believed that he would engage me. 
 Philadelphia was an hundred miles farther. I hesitated not 
 to embark in a boat in order to repair, by the shortest cut 
 of the sea, to Amboy, leaving my trunk and effects to come 
 after me by the usual and more tedious conveyance. In 
 crossing the bay, we met with a squall, which shattered to 
 pieces our rotten sails, prevented us from entering the Kill, 
 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 mo 
 ment that he was sinking, I seized him by the fore- top, sa 
 ved 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 1 found to be my old favourite, JBunyan, in Dutch, 
 a beautiful impression on fine paper, with copper-plate en 
 gravings a dress in which I had never seen it in its origi 
 nal language. I have since learned that it has been trans 
 lated into almost all the languages of Europe, and next to- 
 the Bible, 1 am persuaded, it is one of the books which has 
 had the greatest spread. Honest John is the first, that 1 
 know of, who has mixed narrative and dialogue together ; 
 a mode of writing very engaging to the reader, who in the 
 most interesting passages, finds himself admitted as it were 
 into the company, and present at the conversation. De 
 Foe has imitated it with success in his Robinson Crusoe, 
 his Moll-Flanders, and other works; as also Richardson in 
 his Pamela, &c. 
 
 In approaching the island, wolbund that we had made a 
 part of the coast where it was not possible to land, on ac 
 count of the strong breakers produced by the rocky shore. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 25 
 
 We cast anchor and veered the cable towards the shore. 
 Some men, who stood upon the brink, halloed to us, while 
 we did the same on our part; but the wind was so high, 
 and the waves so noisy, that we could neither of us hear 
 each other. Tfcere were some canoes upon the bank, and 
 we called out to them, and made signs to prevail on them 
 to come and take us up ; but either they did not understand 
 us, or they deemed our request impracticable, and with- 
 drew. Night came on, and nothing remained lor us but to 
 wait quietly the subsiding of the wind ; till when, we deter 
 mined, that is, the pilot and I, to sleep if possible. For 
 that purpose we went below the hatches along with the 
 Dutchman, who was drenched with water. The sea broke 
 over the boat, and reached us in our retreat, so that we 
 were presently as completely drenched as he. 
 
 We had very little repose during the whole night: bat 
 the wind abating the next day, we succeeded in reaching 
 Amboy before it was dark, after having passed thirty 
 hours without provisions, and with no other drink than a 
 bottle of bad rum, the water upon which we rowed being 
 salt. In the evening I went to bed with a very violent 
 fever. I had somewhere read that cold water drank 
 plentifully, was a remedy in such cases. I followed the 
 prescription, was in a profuse sweat for the greater part of 
 the night, and the fever left me. The next day I crossed 
 the river in a 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 1 wa* wet to the skin. Finding myself fatigued 
 about noon, I stopped at a paltry inn, where I passed the 
 rest of the day and the whole night, beginning to regret 
 that I had quitted my home. I made besides so wretched 
 a figure, that I was suspected to be some runaway servant. 
 This I discovered by the questions that were asked me; 
 
26 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 and I felt that I was every moment in danger of being- taken 
 up as such. The next day, however, I continued my jour- 
 rfey, and arrived in the evening at an inn, eight oV ten miles 
 from Burlington, that was kept by one Dr. Brown. 
 
 This man entered into conversation with me while I took 
 some refreshment, and perceiving that I had read a little, he 
 expressed towards me considerable interest and friendship. 
 Our acquaintance continued during the remainder of his life. 
 
 I believe him to have been what is called an itinerant 
 doctor: for there was no town in England, or indeed in 
 Europe, of which he could not give a particular account. 
 He was neither deficient in understanding or literature, but 
 be was a sad infidel ; and, some years after, wickedly un 
 dertook to travesty the Bible, in burlesque verse, as Cotton 
 has travestied Virgil. He exhibited, by this means, many 
 facts in a very ludicrous point of view, which would have 
 given umbrage to weak minds, had his work been published, 
 which it never was. 
 
 I spent the night at his house, and re-ached Burlington 
 the next morning. On my arrival, I had the mortification 
 to learn that the ordinary passage-boats had sailed a little 
 before. This was on a Saturday, and there would be no 
 other boat till the Tuesday following. I returned to the 
 house of an old woman in the town, who had sold me some 
 gingerbread to eat on my passage, and I asked her advice. 
 She invited me to take up my abode with her till an op-^ 
 portunity offered for me to embark. Fatigued with having 
 travelled so far on foot, I accepted her invitation. When 
 she understood that I was a printer, she would have per 
 suaded me to stay at Burlington, and set up my trade; but 
 , she was little aware of the capital that would be necessary 
 for such a purpose ! I was treated while at her house with 
 true hospitality. She gave me with the utmost good-will 
 a dinner of beef-steaks, and would accept of nothing in re 
 turn but a pint of ale. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKL1K. 27 
 
 Here I imagined myself to be fixed till the Tuesday in 
 the ensiling week ; but walking out in the evening by the 
 river side, I saw a bout with a number of> persons in it 
 approach. It was going to Philadelphia, and the compa 
 ny took me in. As there was no wind, we could only 
 make way with our oars. About midnight, not perceiv 
 ing the town, some of the company were of opinion that 
 we must have passed it, and were unwilling to row any 
 farther ; the rest not knowing where we were, it was resolv 
 ed that we should stop. We drew towards the shore, 
 entered a creek, and landed near some old palisades, which 
 served us for fire-wood, it being a cold night in October. 
 Here we stayed till day, when one of the company found 
 the place in which we were to be Cooper s creek, a little 
 above Philadelphia ; which in reality we perceived the mo 
 ment we were out of the creek. We arrived on Sunday 
 about eight or nine o clock in the morning, and landed on 
 Market-street wharf. 
 
 I have entered into the particulars of my Voyage, and 
 shall in like manner describe my first entrance into this city, 
 thatjou may be able to compare beginnings so little auspi 
 cious, 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 my money consisted of a 
 Dutch dollar, and about a shilling s worth of coppers, 
 which I gave to the boatmen Tor my passage. As I had 
 assisted them in rowing, they refused it at first ; but I in 
 sisted on their taking it. A man is sometimes more ge 
 nerous when he has little, than when he has much money ; 
 probably because, in the first case, he is desirous of con* 
 sealing his poverty. 
 
& LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 
 
 I walked towards the top of the street, looking eagerly 
 on both sides, till 1 came to Market-street, where I met a 
 child with a loaf of bread, Often had I made my dinner 
 on dry bread. I inquired where he had bought it, an<J 
 went straight to the baker s shop which he pointed out to 
 me. I asked for some biscuits, expecting to find such as 
 we had at Boston ; but they made, it seems, none of that 
 sort at Philadelphia. I then asked for a threepenny loaf; 
 they made no loaves of that price. Finding myself igno 
 rant of the prices, as well as of the different kinds of bread, 
 I desired him to let me have three penny-worth of bread 
 of some kind or other. He gave me three large rolls. 1 
 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 
 Avent through Market-street to Fourth-street, and passed 
 the house of Mr. Read, the father of my future wife. 
 She was standing at the door, observed me, and thought 
 with reason, that I made a very singular and grotesque ap 
 pearance. 
 
 1 then turned the corner, and went through Chesnut- 
 street, eating my roll all the way ; and having made this 
 round, I found myself again on Market-street wharf, near 
 the boat in which I arrived, I stepped into it to take a 
 draught of the river water ; and finding myself satisfied 
 with my first roll, I gave the other two to a woman and her 
 child, who had come down the river with us in the boat, anC| 
 was waiting to continue her journey. Thus refreshed, I re 
 gained the street, which was now full of well-dressed peo 
 ple, 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 labour and want of rest, I fell intp a 
 sound sleep. In this state 1 continued till the assembly 
 
LI^E OF DR. FRANKLIN. > 
 
 dispersed, when one of the congregation had the goodness 
 to wake me> This was consequently the first house I enter 
 ed, or in which I slept, at Philadelphia. 
 
 I be^an again to walk along the street by the river side ; 
 and looking attentively in the face of every one I met, I at 
 length perceived a young quaker whose countenance plea 
 sed me. I accosted hirn, and begged him to inform me 
 where a stranger might find a lodging. We were then, 
 near the sign of the "three Mariners." They receive travel 
 lers here, " said he, " but it is not a house that bears a 
 good character ; if you will go with me, I will shew you a 
 better one. " He conducted me to the Crooked-billet, in 
 Water-street. There I ordered something for dinner, 
 and during my meal a number of curious questions were 
 put to me ; my youth and appearance exciting the suspicion 
 of my being a runaway. After dinner my drowsiness re 
 tained, and 1 threw myself upon a bed without taking ofr 4 
 my clothes, and slept till six o clock in the evening, when 
 I was called to supper. I afterwards went to bed at a 
 very early hour, and did not awake till the next morning. 
 
 As soon as I got up, I put myself in as decent a trim as 
 I could, and went to the house of Andrew Bradford the 
 printer. I found his father in the shop, whom I had seen 
 at New York. Having travelled on horseback, he had 
 arrived at Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to 
 his son, who received me with civility, and gave me some 
 breakfast ; but told me he had no occasion at present for 
 a journeyman, having lately procured one. He added, 
 that there was another printer newly settled in the town, 
 of the name of Keimer, who might perhaps employ me ; 
 and that in case of refusal, I should be welcome to lodgfl 
 at his house, and he would give me a little work now and 
 then, till something better should offer. 
 
 The old man offered to introduce me to the new printer. 
 When we were at his house : " Neighbour," said he, " J 
 
30 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN*. 
 
 bung you a young man in the printing business ; perhapd 
 you may have need of his services." 
 
 Keimer asked me some questions, put a composing stick 
 in my hand to see how 1 could work, and then said, that at 
 present he had nothing for me to do, but that he should 
 soon be able to employ me. At the same time taking old 
 Bradford for an inhabitant of the town well disposed to 
 wards him, he communicated his project to him, and the 
 prospect he had of success. Bradford was careful not to 
 discover that he was the father of the other printer ; and 
 from what Keimer had said, that he hoped shortly to be 
 in possession of the greater part of the business of the 
 town, led him by artful questions, and by starting some 
 difficulties, to disclose all his views, what his hopes were 
 founded upon, and how he intended to proceed, I was 
 present, and heard it all. I instanly 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 surpris 
 ed when I informed him who the old man was. 
 
 I found Keimer s printing materials to consist of an old 
 damaged press, and a small fount of worn--out English let 
 ters, with which he himself was at work upon an elegy on 
 Aquila Rose, whom I have mentioned above, an ingenious, 
 young .man, and of an excellent character, highly esteemed 
 in the town, secretary to the assembly, and a very tolerable 
 poet. Keimer also made verses, but they were indifferent 
 ones. He could not be said to write in verse, for his 
 method was to set the lines as they flowed from his 
 muse ; and as he worked without copy, had but one set 
 of letter-cases, and the elegy would probably occupy all 
 his types, it was impossible for any one to assist him* 
 I endeavoured to put his press in order, which he had 
 riot yet used, and of which indeed he understood nothing; 
 and having promised to come and work off his elegy as 
 soon us it should be readv, I returned to the house of Brad- 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 31 
 
 Ford, who gave me some trifle to do for the present, Tor 
 which I had my board and lodging. 
 
 In a few days Keimcr sent for me to print off his elegy. 
 He had now procured another set of letter-cases, and had 
 a pamphlet to re-print, upon which he set me to work. 
 
 The two Philadelphia printers appeared destitute of eve 
 ry qualification necessary in their profession. Bradford 
 had not been brought up to it, and was very illiterate. 
 Keimer, though he understood a little of the business, 
 was merely a compositor, and wholly incapable of working 
 at the press. He had been one of the French prophets, 
 and knew how to imitate their supernatural agitations. At 
 the time of our first acquaintance he professed no particu 
 lar religion, but a little of all upon occasion. He was to 
 tally ignorant of the world, and a great knave at heart, as 
 I had afterwards an opportunity of experiencing. 
 
 Keimer could not endure that, working with him, I 
 should lodge at Bradford s. He had indeed a house, but 
 it was unfurnished ; so that he could not take me in. He 
 procured me a lodging at Mr. Read s, his landlord, whom 
 I have already mentioned. My trunk and effects being 
 now arrived, I thought of making, in the eyes of Miss 
 Read, a more respectable appearance than when chance 
 exhibited me to her view, eating my roll, and wandering 
 in the streets. 
 
 From this period I began to contract acquaintance with 
 such young people of the town as were fond of reading, 
 and spent my evenings with them agreeably, while at the 
 same time I gained money by my industry, and, thanks to 
 my frugality, lived contented. I thus forgot Boston as 
 much as possible, and wished every one to be ignorant of 
 the place of my residence, except my friend Collins, to 
 whom I wrote, and who kept my secret. < 
 
 An incident however arrived, which sent me home much 
 sooner than I had. proposed. 1 had a brother-in-law, of 
 the name of Robert Holmes, master of a trading sloop from 
 
82 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Boston to Delaware. Being at Newcastle, forty miles be> 
 Jow 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 1 would return, eve 
 ry thing should be adjusted to my satisfaction ; and he was 
 Very pressing in his entreaties. I answered his letter, thank 
 ed 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 oc 
 casion to speak of me, and showed it him. The governor 
 read it, and appeared surprised when he learned my age. 
 He thought me, he said, a young man of very promising ta 
 lents, and that, of consequence, I ought to be encouraged; 
 that there were at Philadelphia none but very ignorant prin 
 ters, and that if I were to set up for myself, he had nd 
 doubt of my success ; that, for his own part, he would 
 procure me all the public business, and would render me 1 
 every other service in his power. My brother-in-law relat 
 ed all this to me afterwards at Boston, but I knew nothing 
 of it at the time ; when one day Keimer and I being at work 
 together near the window, we saw the governor and another 
 gentleman, colonel French, of Newcastle, handsomely dres 
 sed, 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 condescensioa 
 and politeness to which I had not at all been accustomed, 
 paid me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with 
 me, obligingly reproached me for not having made myself 
 known to him on my arrival in the town, and wished me 
 to accompany him to a tavern, where he and colonel 
 
JLIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 33 
 
 French were going to taste some excellent Madeira 
 wine. 
 
 I was, I confess, somewhat surprised, and Keimer ap- 
 peard thunderstruck. I went, however, with the gover 
 nor and the colonel to a tavern at the corner of Third- 
 street, where, while we were drinking the Madeira; he 
 proposed to me to establish a printing-house. He set 
 forth the probabilities of success, and himself and colonel 
 French assured me that I should have their protection and 
 influence in obtaining the printing of the public papers 01 
 both governments ; and as I appeared to doubt whether 
 my father would assist me in this enterprize, Sir William 
 said that he would give me a letter to him, in which he 
 would represent the advantages of the scheme, in a light 
 which he had no doubt would determine him. It was thus 
 concluded that I should return to Boston by the first ves 
 sel, with the letter of recommendation, from the governor 
 to my father. Meanwhile the project was to be kept 
 secret, and I continued to work for Keimer as before. 
 
 The governor sent every now and then to invite me to 
 dine with him. I considered this as a very great honour ; 
 and I was the more sensible of it, as he conversed with me 
 in the most affable, familiar, and friendly manner imagina 
 ble. 
 
 Towards the end of April 1724, a small vessel was rea 
 dy to sail for Boston. I took leave of Keimer, upon the 
 pertext of going to see my parents. The governor gave 
 me a long letter, in which he said many flattering things of 
 me to my father ; and strongly recommended the project of 
 my settling at Philadelphia, as a thing which could not fail 
 to make my fortune. 
 
 Going down the bay we struck on aflat, and sprung a 
 leak. The weather was very tempestuous, and we were 
 obliged to pump without intermission; I took my turo. 
 
34 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 We arrived, however, safe and sound at Boston, after 
 about a fortnight s passage. 
 
 I had been absent about seven complete months, and my 
 relations/during that interval, had received no intelligence 
 of me ; for my brother-in-law, Holmes, was not yet return 
 ed, and had not written about me. My unexpected ap 
 pearance surprized the family ; but they were all delighted 
 at seeing ftie again, and, except my brother, welcomed mo 
 home. I went to him in the printing-house. I was bettei 
 dressed then I had ever been while in his service : I had a 
 complete suit of clothes, new and neat, a watch in my poc 
 ket, and my purse was furnished with nearly five pounds, 
 sterling in money. He gave me no very civil reception ; 
 and having eyed me from head to foot, resumed his work. 
 
 The workmen asked me with eagerness where I had 
 been, what sort of a country it was, and how I liked it. I 
 spoke in the highest terms of Philadelphia, the happy life 
 we led there, and expressed my intention of going back 
 again. One of them asking what sort of money we had, 
 I displayed before them a handfull 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. 
 J failed not after this to let them see my watch ; and at last, 
 my" brother continuing sullen and out of humour, I gave 
 them a shilling to drink, and took my leave. This visit 
 stung my brother to the soul ; for when, shortly after, my 
 mother spoke to him of a reconciliation, and a disire to see 
 us upon good terms, he told her that I had so insulted him 
 before his men, that he would never forget or forgive it : 
 in this, however, he was mistaken. 
 
 The governor s letter appeared to excite in my father 
 some surprize ; but he said little. After some days, cap 
 tain Holmes being returned, he showed it him, asking him 
 if he knew Keith, and what sort of a man he was : adding 
 that, in his opinion, it proved very little discernment t 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 86 
 
 think of setting up a boy in business, who for three years 
 to come would not be of an age to be ranked in the class 
 of men. Holmes said every thing- lie could in favour oi 
 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 protec 
 tion he had so obligingly oflbred 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 enter 
 prise, and which would require so considerable a sum oi 
 money. 
 
 My old comrade Collins, who was a clerk in the post- 
 office, charmed with the account I gave of my new resi 
 dence, expressed a desire of going thither ; and while I 
 waited my father s determination, he set off before me by 
 land for Rhode Island, leaving his books, which formed 
 a handsome collection in mathematics and natural philoso 
 phy, to be conveyed with mine to New York, where he 
 purposed to wait for me. 
 
 My father, though he could not approve Sir Wil 
 liam s proposal, was yet pleased that I had obtained so ad 
 vantageous a recommendation as that of a person of his 
 rank, and that my industry and economy had enabled me 
 to equip myself so handsomely in so short a period. See 
 ing no appearance of accommodating matters between my 
 brother and me, he consented to my return to Philadel 
 phia, advised me to be civil to every body, to endeavour 
 to obtain general esteem, and avoid satire and sarcasm, to 
 which he thought I was -too much inclined : adding, that 
 with perseverance and prudent economy, 1 might, by the 
 time I became of age, save enough to establish myself in 
 business ; and that if a small sum should then be wanting, 
 he would undertake to supply it. 
 
 This was all I could obtain from him, except some tri 
 lling presents, in token of friendship from him and my mo~ 
 
3b LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 ther. I embarked once more for New York, furnished at 
 tliis time with their approbation and blessing. The sloop 
 having touched at Newport in Rhode Island, I paid a visit 
 to my brother John, who had for some years been settled 
 there, and was married. He had always been attached to 
 me, and he received me with great affection. One of his 
 friends, whose name was Vernon, hav ing a debt of about 
 thirty-six pounds due to him in Pennsylvania, begged me 
 to receive it for him, and to keep the money till I should 
 Lear from him : accordingly he gave me an order for that 
 purpose. This affair occasioned me, in the sequel, much 
 uneasiness. 
 
 At Newport we took on board a number of passengers ; 
 among whom were two young women, and a grave and 
 sensible quaker lady with her servants. I had shown an 
 obliging forwardness in rendering the quaker some trifling 
 services, which led her, probably, to feel an interest in my 
 welfare ; for when she saw a familiarity take place, and 
 every day increase, between the two young women and me, 
 she took me aside and said : " Young man, I am in pain 
 for thee. Thou hast no parent to watch over thy con 
 duct, and thou seemest to be ignorant of the world, and 
 the snares to which youth is exposed. Rely upon what I 
 tell thee : those are women of bad characters ; I perceive 
 it in all their actions. If thou dost not take care, they 
 will lead thee into danger. They are strangers to thee, 
 and I advise thee, by the friendly interest I take in thy 
 preservation, to form no connection with them." As I ap 
 peared at first not to think quite so ill of them as she did, 
 she related many things she had seen and heard, which had 
 escaped my attention, but which convinced me that she 
 was in the right. I thanked her for her obliging advice 
 and promised to follow it. 
 
 When we arrived at New York, they informed me 
 where they lodged, and invited me to come and see them, 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 37 
 
 I did not however go, and it was well I did not ; for the 
 next day, the captain missing a silver spoon and some 
 other things which had been taken from the cabin, and 
 knowing these women to be prostitutes, procured a 
 search-warrant, found the stolen goods upon them, and 
 had them punished. And thus, after having been saved 
 from one rock concealed under water, upon which the 
 vessel struck during our passage, 1 escaped another of 
 a still more dangerous nature. 
 
 At New York I found my friend Collins, who had ar 
 rived some time before. We had been intimate from our 
 infancy, and had read the same books together ; but he had 
 the advantage of being able to devote more time to reading 
 and study, and an astonishing disposition for mathematics, 
 in which he left me far behind him. When at Boston, 1 
 had been accustomed to pass with him almost all my IQI- 
 sure hours. He was then a sober and industrious lad ; 
 his knowledge had gained him a very general esteem, and 
 he seemed to promise to make an advantageous figure 
 in society. But, during my absence, he had unfortunately 
 addicted himself to brandy, and I learned, as well from 
 himself as from the report of others, that every day since 
 his arrival at New York he had been intoxicated, and had 
 acted in a very extravagant manner. He had also played, 
 and lost all his money ; so that I was obliged to pay his 
 expences at the inn, and to maintain him during the rest 
 of his journey ; a burthen that was very inconvenient to 
 jne. 
 
 The governoj of New York, whose name was Burnct, 
 hearing the captain say, that a young man who was a 
 passenger in his ship had a great number of books, beg 
 ged him to bring me to his house. I accordingly went, 
 and should have taken Collins with nie, had he been sober. 
 The governor treated me with great civility, shewed me 
 MS library, which was a very considerable one, and w$ 
 
S^ LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 talked for some time upon books and authors. This was 
 the second governor who had honoured me with his at 
 tention, and to a poor boy, as I was then, these little ad 
 ventures did not fail to be pleasing-. 
 
 We arrived at Philadelphia. On the way I received 
 Vernon s money, without which we should have been un 
 able to have finished our journey. 
 
 Collins wished to get employment as a merchant s clerk,, 
 but either his breath or his countenance betrayed his bad 
 habit ; for, though he had recommendations he met with 
 no success, and continued to lodge and eat with me, and 
 at my expense. Knowing that I had Vernon s money, 
 he was continually asking me to lend him some of it, pro 
 mising 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 
 fait 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. " 
 s< As you please". " Let us row," said the rest of the com 
 pany ; " what signifies whether he assists or not, " But, al 
 ready angry with him for his conduct in other respects, I 
 persisted in my refusal. He then swore that he would 
 make me row, or he 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 appre 
 hension for his life, Before he could turn himself, we wer* 
 
LIFE OF DR, FRAKKLJN. 39 
 
 able, by a few strokes of our oars, to place ourselves out of 
 his reach ; and whenever he touched the boat, we asked 
 him if he would row, striking his hands at the same time 
 with the oars, to make him let go his hold. He was nearly 
 suH ocated with rage, but obstinately refused making any 
 promise to row. Perceiving, at length, that his strength 
 began to be exhausted, we took him into the boat, and con- 
 veyed him home in the evening completely drenched. The 
 utmost coldness subsisted between us after this adventure. 
 At last the captain of a West-India ship, who was commis 
 sioned to procure a tutor for the children of a gentleman 
 at Barbadoes, meeting with Collins, offered him the place. 
 He accepted it, and took his leave of me, promising to 
 discharge the debt he owed me with the first money he> 
 should receive ; but I have heard nothing of him since. 
 
 The violation of the trust reposed in me by Vernon, was 
 one of the first great errors of my life ; and it proves that 
 my father was not mistaken when he supposed me too 
 young to be intrusted with the management of impor 
 tant affairs. But Sir William, upo-i reading his letter, 
 thought lu m too prudent. There was a difference, he 
 said, between individuals : years of maturity were not al 
 ways accompanied with discretion, neither was youth in 
 every instance devoid of it. " Since your father," added 
 he, " will not set you up in business, I will do it myself. 
 Make out a list of what will be wanted from England, and 
 I will send for the articles. You shall repay me when you 
 can. I am determined to have a good printer here, and I 
 am sure you will succeed." This was said with so much 
 seeming cordiality, that I suspected not for an instant the 
 sincerity of tjie offer. I had hitherto kept the project, with 
 which Sir William had inspired me, of settling in business, 
 a secret at Philadelphia, and 1 still continued to do so. 
 Had my reliance on the governor been known, some friend 
 better acquainted with his character than myself, would 
 
40 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 doubtless have advised me not to trust him ; for 1 after 
 wards learned he was universally known to be liberal oi" 
 promises, which he had no intention to perform. But hav 
 ing never solicited him, how could 1 suppose his offers to 
 be deceitful? On the contrary, I believed him to be the 
 best man in the world. 
 
 I gave him an inventory of a small printing-office, the 
 expence of which I had calculated at about a hundred 
 pounds sterling. He expressed his approbation ; but ask 
 ed, if my presence in England, that I might choose the 
 characters myself, and see that every article was good in 
 its kind, would not be an advantage ? " You will also be 
 able," said he, " to form some acquaintance there, and es 
 tablish a correspondence with stationers and booksellers." 
 This I acknowledged was desirable. " That being the 
 case," added he, " hold yourself in readiness to go with 
 the Annis." This was the annual vessel, and the only one, 
 at that time, which made regular voyages between the 
 ports of London and Philadelphia. But the Annis was 
 not to sail for some months. I therefore continued to 
 work with Keimer, unhappy respecting the sum which 
 Collins had drawn from me, and almost in continual agony 
 at the thoughts of Vernon, who fortunately made no de 
 wand of his money till several years after. 
 
 In the account of my first voyage from Boston to Phila 
 delphia, I omitted, I believe, a trifling circumstance, which 
 will not, perhaps, be out of place here. During a calm 
 which stopped us above Black Island, the crew employed 
 themselves in fishing for cod, of which they caught a great 
 number. 1 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 nay master 
 Tryon, the capture of every fish as a sort of murder, com 
 mitted without provocation, since these animals had neither 
 (lone, nor were capable of doing the Smallest injury to anj 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 41 
 
 one that should justify the measure. This mode of reason 
 ing I conceived to be unanswerable. Meanwhile, I had for 
 merly been extremely fond of fish ; and when one of these 
 cod was taken out of the frying-pan, I thought its flavour 
 delicious. I hesitated some time between principle and 
 inclination, till at last recollecting, that when the cod had 
 been opened, some small fish were found in its belly, I said 
 to myself, if jou eat one another, I see no reason why we 
 may not eat you. I accordingly dined on the cod with no 
 small degree of pleasure, and have since continued to eat 
 like the rest of mankind, returning only occasionally to my 
 vegetable plan. How convenient does it prove to be a 
 rational animal, that knows how to find or invent a plausi 
 ble pretext for whatever it has an inclination to do ! 
 
 I continued to live upon good terms with Keimer, who had 
 not the smallest suspicion of my projected establishment. 
 He still retained a portion of his former enthusiasm ; and, 
 being fond of argument, we frequently disputed together. 
 I was so much in the habit of using my Socratic method, 
 and had so frequently puzzled him by my questions, which 
 appeared at first very distant from the point in debate, yet 
 nevertheless led to it by degrees, involving him in difficul 
 ties and contradictions from which he was unable to extri 
 cate himself, that he became at last ridiculously cautious, 
 and would scarcely answer the most plain and familiar 
 question without previously asking me What would you 
 infer from that ? Hence he formed so high an opinion of my 
 talents for refutation, that he seriously proposed to me to 
 become his colleague in the establishment of a new religious 
 sect. He was to propagate the doctrine by preaching, and 
 I to refute every opponent. V 
 
 When he explained to me his tenets, I found many ab 
 surdities which I refused to admit, unless he would agree 
 in turn to adopt some of my opinions. Keimer wore his 
 l^ard long, because Moses had somewhere said, " Thoa 
 
4^2 LIFE OF DR.- FRANKLIN. 
 
 shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." He likewise ob 
 served the Sabbath; and these were with him two very essen 
 tial points. I disliked them both : but I consented to adopt 
 them, provided he would agree to abstain from animal 
 food. " I doubt," said he, " whether my constitution will 
 be able to support it." I assured him on the contrary, he 
 would find himself the better for it. He was naturally a 
 glutton, and I wished to amuse myself by starving- him. 
 He consented to make trial of this regimen, if 1 would 
 bear him company ; and in reality we continued it for three 
 months. A woman in the neighbourhood prepared and 
 brought us our victuals, to whom I gave a list of fort} 
 dishes ; in the composition of which there were entered 
 neither flesh nor fish. This fancy was the more agreeable 
 to me as it turned to good account ; for the whole expence 
 of our living did not exceed for each eighteen pence a week. 
 
 I have since that period observed several Lents with 
 the greatest strictness, and have suddenly returned again 
 to my ordinary diet, without experiencing the smallest, in 
 convenience ; which has led me to regard as of no impor 
 tance the advice commonly given, of introducing gradual 
 ly such alterations of regimen. 
 
 I continued it cheerfully, but poor Keimer suffered ter 
 ribly. Tired of the project, he sighed for the flesh-pots of 
 Egypt. At length he ordered a roast pig, and invited me 
 and tvo 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 1 
 was on the point of undertaking a long voyage, her mother 
 thought it prudent to prevent matters being carried too far 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 43 
 
 for the present, judging that, if marriage was our object, 
 there would be more propriety in it after my return, wlim, 
 as at least I expected, I should be established in my busi 
 ness. Perhaps, also, she thought my expectations were 
 not so well founded as I imagined. 
 
 My most intimate acquaintance at this time were Charles 
 Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph : young men 
 who were all fond of reading. The two iirst were clerks 
 to Mr. Charles Brockdon, one of the principal attornies in 
 the town, and the other clerk to a merchant. Watson 
 was an upright, pious, and sensible young man : the others 
 were somewhat more loose in their principles of religion, 
 particularly Ralph, whose faith, as well as that of Collins, 
 1 had contributed to shake ; each of whom made me suffer 
 a very adequate punishment. Osborne was sensible, and 
 sincere and affectionate in his friendships, but too much 
 inclined to the critic in matters of literature. Ralph was 
 ingenious and shrewd, genteel in his address, and ex 
 tremely eloquent. I do not remember to have met with 4 
 more agreeable speaker. They were both enamoured of 
 the muses, and had already evinced their passion by some 
 small poetical productions. 
 
 It was a custom with us to take a charming walk on 
 Sundays, in the woods that border the Skuylkil. Here we 
 read together, and afterwards conversed on what we read. 
 Ralph was disposed to give himself up entirely to poetry* 
 He flattered himself that he should arrive at great emi 
 nence in r the art, and even acquire a fortune. The sub- 
 Jimest poets, he pretended, when tlney first began to write, 
 committed as many faults as himself. Osborne endeavour 
 ed to dissuade him, by assuring him that he had no genius 
 for poetry, and advised him to stick to the trade in which he 
 had been brought up. " In the road of commerce," said 
 he, " you will be sure, by diligence and assiduity, though 
 you have no capital, of so far succeeding as to be employ- 
 
44 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLY. 
 
 ed as a factor ; and may thus, in time, acquire the me ans 
 of setting up for yourself." I concurred in these senti 
 ments, but at the same time expressed my approbation of 
 amusing ourselves sometimes with poetry, with a view to 
 improve our style. In consequence of this it was propos 
 ed, that, at our next meeting, each of us should bring a 
 copy of verses of his own composition. Our object- in this 
 competition was to benefit each other by our mutual re 
 marks, criticisms, and corrections ; and as style and ex 
 pression were all we had in view, we excluded every idea 
 of invention, by agreeing that our task should be a version 
 of the eighteenth psalm, in which is described the descent of 
 the Deity. 
 
 The time of our meeting drew near, when Ralph called 
 
 upon me, and told me that his performance was ready. I 
 
 informed him that I had been idle, and, not much liking the 
 
 task, had done nothing. He shewed me his piece, and 
 
 asked me what I thought of it. I expressed myself in 
 
 terms of warm approbation ; because it really appeared to 
 
 have considerable merit. He then said, " Osborne will 
 
 never acknowledge the smallest degree of excellence in 
 
 any production of mine. Envy alone dictates to him a 
 
 thousand animadversions. O f you he is not so jealous : I 
 
 wish, therefore, you would take the verses, and produce 
 
 them as your own. I will pretend not to have had leisure 
 
 to write any thing. We shall then see in what manner he 
 
 will speak of them." I agreed to this little artifice, and 
 
 immediately transcribed the verses to prevent all suspicion. 
 
 We met. Watson s performance "was the first that was 
 
 read; it had some beauties, but many faults. We next 
 
 read Osborne s, which was much better. Ralph did it 
 
 iustice, 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; 
 
 Deemed as if I wished to be excused ; pretended that I hacj 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 4.3 
 
 had no time to make corrections, &c. No excuse, 
 however, was admissible, and the piece must be produced. 
 It was read, and re-read. Watson and Osborne immedi 
 ately resigned the palm, and united in applauding it. 
 Ralph alone made a few remarks, and proposed some al 
 terations ; but I defended my text. Osborne agreed with 
 me, and told Ralph that he was no more able to criticise 
 than he was able to write. 
 
 When ^Osborne was alone with ine, he expressed him 
 self still more strongly in favour of what he considered 
 as my performance. He pretended that he had put some 
 restraint upon himself before, apprehensive of my constru 
 ing his commendation into flattery. " But who would have 
 supposed," said he, " Franklin to be capable of such a 
 composition ? what painting what energy what fire ! 
 He has surpassed the original. In his common conversa 
 tion he appears not to have a choice of words ; he hesitates, 
 and is at a loss- -and yet, good God ! how he writes !" 
 
 At our next meeting Ralph discovered the trick we had 
 played Osborne, who was rallied without mercy. 
 
 By this adventure Ralph was fixed in his determination 
 of becoming a poet. I left nothing unattempted to divert 
 him from his purpose ; but he persevered, till at last the 
 reading of Pope effected his cure : he became, however, a 
 very tolerable prose- writer. I shall speak more of him 
 hereafter ; but as I shall probably have no farther occasion 
 to mention, the other two, I ought tp observe here that 
 Watson died a few years a/ter in my arms. He was greatly 
 regretted, for he was the best of our society. Osborne 
 went to the islands, where he gained considerable reputa 
 tion as a barrister, and was getting money; but he died 
 young. We had seriously engaged, that whoever died firs* 
 should return (if possible) and pay a friendly visit to the sur- 
 vivor, to give him an account of the other world but he 
 bas never fulfilled his engagement. 
 
46 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 The governor appeared to be fond of my company, and 
 frequently invited me to his house. He always spoke of 
 his intention of settling me in business, as a point that was 
 decided. I was to take with me letters of recommendation 
 to a number of his friends, and particularly a letter of cre 
 dit, in order to obtain the necessary sum for the pur 
 chase of my press, types, and paper. He appointed vari 
 ous times for me to come for these letters, which would 
 certainly be ready, and when I came, always put me oft 
 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 se 
 cretary, Dr. Bard, who told me that the governor was ex 
 tremely busy writing, but that he would be down at New 
 castle before the vessel, and that the letters would be de 
 livered to me there. 
 
 Ralph, though he was married and had a child, deter 
 mined to accompany me in this voyage. His object was 
 supposed to be the establishing a correspondence with 
 some mercantile houses, in order to sell goods by com 
 mission ; but 1 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 pro 
 mises of fidelity with Miss Read, I quitted Philadelphia. 
 At Newcastle the vessel came- to anchor. The governor 
 was arrived, and I went to his lodgings. His secretary 
 received me with great civility, told me on the part of the 
 governor that he could not see me then, as he was engaged 
 in affairs of the utmost importance, but that he would send 
 the letters on board, and that he wished me, with all his 
 heart, a good voyage and speedy return. I returned, 
 
LIFE OF DR. f RANKLItf. 47 
 
 somewhat astonished, to the ship, hut still without enter 
 taining the slightest suspicion. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton, a celehrated barrister of Philadelphia, 
 had taken a passage to England for himself and his son, 
 and, in conjunction with Mr. Denham, a quaker,and Messrs. 
 Oniam and Russel, proprietors of a forge in Maryland, 
 had agreed for the whole cabin, so that Ralph and I wer* 
 obliged to take up our lodging with the crew. Being un-r 
 known to every body in the ship, we were looked upon as 
 of the common order of people : but Mr. Hamilton and his 
 son, (it was James, who was afterwards governor,) left us 
 at Newcastle, and returned to Philadelphia, where he was 
 recalled at a very great expense, to plead the cause of a ves 
 sel that had been seized ; and just as we were about to 
 sail, colonel French came on board, and shewed me many 
 civilities. The passengers upon this paid me more atten 
 tion, 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 rea 
 dily accepted. 
 
 Having learned that the despatches of the governor had 
 been brought on board by colonel French, I asked the 
 captain for the letters that were to be entrusted to my 
 care. He told me that they were all put together in the 
 bag, which he could not open at present; but before we 
 reached England, he would give me an opportunity of tak 
 ing 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 ad 
 vantage- of the whole of Mr. Hamilton s, who had laid in a 
 very plentiful stock. During the passage, Mr. Denliani 
 contracted a friendship for me, which ended only with this 
 life : in other respects the voyage was by no means an 
 agreeable one, as we had much bad weather. 
 
4$ LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 When we arrived in the river, the captain was as good 
 as his word, and allowed me to search in the bag for 
 the governor s letters. I could not find a single one with 
 my name written on it, as committed to my care ; but 1 
 selected six. or seven, which I judged from the direction to 
 be those that were intended for me ; particularly one to Mr, 
 Basket the king s printer, and another to a stationer, who 
 was the first person I called upon. I delivered hirn^the 
 letter as coining from governor Keith. " I have no ac 
 quaintance" (said he) " with any such person ;" and open 
 ing the letter, " Oh, it is from Riddlesden !" he exclaimed. 
 * I have lately discovered him to be a very arrant knave, 
 and wish to have nothing to do either with him or his let 
 ters." He instantly put the letter into my hand, turned 
 upon his heel, and left me, to serve some customers. 
 1 I was astonished at finding these letters were not from 
 the governor. Reflecting, arid putting circumstances to 
 gether, I then began to doubt his sincerity. I rejoined my 
 friend Denham, and related the whole affair to him. He 
 let me at once into Keith s character, told me there was 
 not the least probability of his having written a single let 
 ter ; that no one who knew him ever placed any reliance on 
 him, and laughed at my credulity in supposing that the go 
 vernor would give me a letter of credit, when he had no cre 
 dit for himself. As I showed some uneasiness respecting 
 what step I should take, he advised me to try to get employ 
 ment in the house of some printer. " You may there," 
 said he, " improve yourself in business, and you will be 
 able to settle yourself the more advantageously when yon 
 return to America. " 
 
 We knew already, as well as the stationer, attorney Rid 
 dlesden to be a knave. He had nearly ruined the father 
 of Miss Read, by drawing him in to be his security. \Vc 
 learned from his letter,, that he was secretly carrying on an 
 intrigue, in concert with the governor, to the prejudice oi 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. W 
 
 Mr, Hamilton, who it was supposed would by this time bu 
 in Europe. Denham, who was Hamilton s friend, was of 
 opinion that he ought to be made acquainted with it ; and 
 in reality, the instant he arrived in England, which was 
 very soon after, I waited on him, and, as much from good 
 will to him, as from resentment against the governor, put 
 the letter into his hands. He thanked me very sincerely, 
 the information it contained being of consequence to him; 
 and from that moment bestowed on me his friendship, which 
 afterwards proved on many occasions serviceable to me. 
 
 But what are we to think of a governor who could play 
 so scurvy a trick, and thus grossly deceive a poor young 
 lad, wholly destitute of experience ? It was a practice with 
 him. Wishing to please every body, and having little to 
 bestow, he was lavish of promises. He was in other res 
 pects sensible and judicious, a very tolerable writer, and a 
 good governor for the people ; though not so for the pro* 
 prietaries, whose instructions he frequently disregarded. 
 Many of our best laws were his work, and established dur 
 ing his administration. 
 
 Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took 
 a lodging together at three and sixpence a week, which 
 was as much as we could afford. He met with some re 
 lations in London, but they were poor and not able to as 
 sist him. He now, for the first time, informed me of his 
 intention to remain in England, and that he had no thoughts 
 of ever returning to Philadelphia. He was totally without 
 money ; the little he had been able to raise having barely 
 sufficed for his passage. I had still fifteen pistoles re 
 maining ; and to me he had from time to time recourse, 
 while he tried to get employment. 
 
 At first, believing himself possessed of talents for the 
 stage, he thought of turning actor; but Wilkes, to whom 
 he applied, frankly advised him to renounce the idea, as it 
 was impossible he should succeed. He next proposed to 
 
50 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Roberts, "a bookseller in Paternoster-row, to write a 
 weekly paper in the manner of the Spectator, upon terms 
 to which Roberts would not listen. Lastly, he endeavour 
 ed to procure employment as a copyist, and applied to the 
 lawyers and stationers about the Temple ; but he could 
 find no vacancy. 
 
 As to myself, I immediately got engaged at Palmer s, 
 at that time a noted printer in Bartholomew-close, with 
 whom I continued nearly a year. I applied very assidu 
 ously 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 pis 
 toles, we lived after this from hand to mouth. He ap 
 peared to have entirely forgotten his wife and child, as I 
 also, by degrees, forgot my engagements with Miss Read, 
 to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that 
 merely to inform her that I was not likely to return soon. 
 This was another grand error of my life, which I should be 
 desirous of correcting were I to begin my career again. 
 
 I was employed at Palmer s on the second edition ot 
 Woolaston s Religion of Nature. Some of his arguments 
 appearing to me not to be well-founded, I wrote a small 
 metaphysical treatise, in which I animadverted on those 
 passages. It was entitled a " Dissertation on Liberty 
 and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain/ I dedicated it to my 
 friend Ralph, and printed a small number of copies. Pal 
 mer upon this tre. ited me with more consideration^ and re 
 garded me as a young man of talents; though he seriously 
 took me to task for the principles of my pamphlet, which 
 he looked upon as abominable. The printing of this work 
 was another error of my life. 
 
 While I lodged in Little Britain I formed acquaintance 
 with a bookseller of the name of Wllcox, whose shop was 
 next door to me. Circulating libraries were not then in 
 iise. He had ^an immense collection of books of all sorts. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLW. tt 
 
 We agreed that, for a reasonable retribution, of which I 
 have now forgotten the price, t should have free access to 
 his library, and take what books J pleased, which I was to 
 "return when I had read them. I considered this agree 
 ment 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 cf Lyons, author of a book entitled, " Infallibility of 
 Human Judgment," was the occasion of a considerable in 
 timacy between us. He expressed great esteem for me, 
 came frequently to see me, in order to converse upon me-> 
 taphysical subjects, and introduced me to Dr. Mandeville, 
 author of the Fable of the Bees, who had instituted a club 
 at a tavern in Cheapside, of which he was the soul : he 
 was a facetious and very amusing character. He also 
 introduced me, at Batson s coifee-house, to Dr. Pember* 
 ton, who promised to give me an opportunity of seeing Sir 
 Isaac Newton, which I very ardently desired ; but he ne 
 ver kept his word. 
 
 I had brought some curiosities with me from America ^ 
 the principal of which was a purse made of the asbestos, 
 which fire only purifies. Sir Hans Sloane hearing of it, 
 called upon me^ and invited me to his house in Blooms- 
 bury-square, where, after showing me every thing that was 
 curious, lie prevailed on me to add this piece to his collec 
 tion ; for which he paid me very handsomely. l 
 
 There lodged in the same house with us a young wo>- 
 man, a milliner, who had a shop by the side of the Ex 
 change. Lively and sensible, and having received an edu 
 cation somewhat above her rank, her conversation was 
 very agreeable. Ralph read plays to her every evening*. 
 They became intimate. She took another lodging, and he 
 followed her. They lived for some time together ; but 
 Ralph being without employment, she having a child, ancl 
 the profits of her business not sufficing for the maintenance 
 
 * 2 
 
52 LIFE OF JDK. FRANKLIN. 
 
 of three, he resolved to quit London, and try a country 
 School. This was a plan in which he thought himself likely 
 to succeed ; as he wrote a fine hand, and was versed in 
 arithmetic and accounts. But considering the., office as 
 beneath him, and expecting some day to make a better 
 figure in the world, when he should be ashamed of its be 
 ing known that he had exercised a profession so little ho 
 nourable, he changed his name, and did me the honour to 
 assume mine. He wrote to me soon after his departure, 
 informing me that he was settled at a small village in Berk 
 shire. In his letter he recommended Mrs. T***, the milli 
 ner, to my care, and requested an answer, directed to Mr. 
 Franklin, schoolmaster, at N***. , 
 
 He continued to write to me frequently, sending me large 
 fragments of an epic poem he was composing, and which 
 he begged of me to criticise and correct. I did so, but 
 not without endeavouring to prevail on him to renounce 
 this pursuit. Young had just published one of his Satires. 
 I copied and sent him a great part of it ; in which the au 
 thor demonstrates the folly of cultivating the muses, from 
 the hope, by their instrumentality, of rising in the world. 
 It was all to no purpose ; paper after paper of his poem 
 continued to arrive every post. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. T*** having lost, on his account, both 
 her friends and her business, was frequently in distress. In 
 this dilemma she had recourse to me ; and to extricate her 
 from difficulties, I lent her all the money I could spare. 1 
 felt a little too much fondness for her. Having at that time 
 no ties of religion, and taking advantage of her necessitous 
 situation, I attempted liberties, (another error of my life,) 
 which she repelled with becoming indignation. She in 
 formed Ralph of my conduct ; and the affair occasioned a 
 breach between us. When he returned to London, he 
 gave me to understand that he considered all the obligations 
 he owed me as annihilated by this proceeding whence 1 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 53 
 
 concluded that I was never to expect the payment of what 
 money I had lent him, or advanced on his account. I wa> 
 tlie less afflicted at this, as lie was wholly unable to pay me; 
 end as, by losing his friendship, I was relieved at the same 
 time from a very heavy burden. 
 
 T now began to think of laying by some money. The 
 printing-house of Watts, near Lincoln s-Iun Fields, being 
 a still more considerable one than that in which I worked, 
 it was probable I might find it more advantageous to be 
 employed there. I offered myself, and was accepted ; and 
 in this house I continued during the remainder of my stay 
 in London. 
 
 On my entrance" I worked at first as a pressman, con 
 ceiving that 1 had need of bodily exercise, to which I had 
 been accustomed in America, where the printers work al 
 ternately 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. T carried occasionally 
 a large form of letters in each hand, up and down stairs, 
 while the rest employed both hands to carry one. They 
 were surprised to see, by this and many other examples, 
 that the American Aquatic, as they used to call me, was 
 stronger than those who drank porter. The beer-boy *had 
 sufficient employment during the whole day in serving that 
 house alone. My fellow pressmen drank every day a pint 
 of beer before breakfast, a pint with bread and cheese for 
 breakfast, one between breakfast and dinner, one at dinner, 
 one again about six o clock in the afternoon, and another 
 after he had finished his day s work. This custom appear 
 ed to me abominable ; but he had need, he said, of all this 
 beer, in order to acquire strength to work. 
 
 I endeavoured to convince him that the bodily strength 
 r urnished by the beer, could only be in proportion to the 
 solid part of the barley dissolved in the water of which the 
 heer was composed ; that there was a larger portion of /lour 
 
54 LIFE OF DK. FRANKLIN. 
 
 in a penny loaf, and that consequently if he ate this loaf, and 
 drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more strength 
 from it than from a pint of beer. This reasoning, however, 
 did not prevent him from drinking his accustomed quantity 
 of beer, and paying every Saturday night a score of four or 
 live shillings a week for this cursed beverage ; an expence 
 from which I was wholly exempt. Thus do these poor de 
 vils continue all their lives in a state of voluntary wretched 
 ness 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. 1 thus remained two or three weeks out of the 
 fraternity. I was consequently looked upon as excommu 
 nicated; and whenever I was absent, no little trick that 
 malice could suggest was left unpractised upon n,e. I 
 found my letters mixed, my pages transposed, my matter 
 broken, &c. all which was attributed to the spirit that haunt 
 ed the chapel,* and tormented those who were not regu 
 larly admitted. I was at last obliged to submit to pay, 
 notwithstanding the protection of the master; convinced 01 
 the folly of not keeping up a, good understanding with 
 those among whom we are destined to live. 
 
 After this I lived in the utmost harmony with my fellow- 
 labourers, and soon acquired considerable influence among* 
 them. 1 proposed some alterations in the laws of the cha 
 pel, which I carried without opposition. My example pre 
 vailed with several of them to renounce their abominable 
 practice of bread and cheese with beer ; and they procur 
 ed, like me, from a neighbouring house, a good basin of 
 warm gruel, in which was a small slice of butter, with 
 
 f Printing houses in general are thus denominated by the 
 ; the spirit they call by the name 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 55 
 
 toasted bread and nutmeg. This was a much better break- 
 last, which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, 
 three halfpence, and at the same time preserved the head 
 clearer. Those who continued to gorge themselves with 
 beer, often lost. their credit with the publican, from neglect 
 ing to pay their score. They had then recourse to me, 
 to become security for them ; their light, as they used to 
 call it, being out. I attended at the pay-table every Sa 
 turday evening, to take up the little sum which I had made 
 myself answerable for; and which sometimes amounted to 
 nearly thirty shillings a week. 
 
 This circumstance, added to my reputation of being a 
 tolerable good gabber, or, in other words, skilful in the art 
 of burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. 1 had 
 besides recommended myself to the esteem of my master 
 by my assiduous application to business, never observing 
 Saint Monday. My extraordinary quickness in composing 
 always procured me such work as was most urgent, and 
 which is commonly best paid ; and thus my time passed 
 away in a very pleasant manner. 
 
 My lodging in Little Britain being too far from the print 
 ing-house, I took another in Duke-street, opposite the 
 Roman Catholic chapel. It was at the back of an Italian 
 warehouse. The house was kept by a widow, who had a 
 daughter, a servant, and a shop- boy ; but the latter slept 
 out of the house. After sending to the people with whom 
 I lodged in Little Britain, to inquire into my character, she 
 agreed to take me in at the same price, three and sixpence 
 a week ; contenting herself, she said, with so little, because 
 of the security she should derive , as they were all women, 
 from having a man lodger in the house. 
 
 She was a woman rather advanced in life, the daughter 
 of a clergyman. She had been educated a Protestant ; 
 but her husband, whose memory she highly revered, had 
 Converted her to the Catholic religion. She had lived in 
 
56 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 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 conlmed 
 her to her room, she was sometimes disposed to see com 
 pany. Hers was so amusing to me, that I was glad to 
 pass the evening with her as often as she desired it. Our 
 supper consisted only of half an anchovy a piece, upon a 
 slice of bread and butter, with half a pint of ale between 
 us. But the entertainment was in her conversation. 
 
 The early hours I kept, and the little trouble I occasion 
 ed in the family, made her loth to part with me ; and when 
 I mentioned another lodging I had found, nearer the print 
 ing-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 continu 
 ed to lodge with her, during the remainder of my abode in 
 London, at eighteen pence a week. 
 
 In a garret of the house there lived, in the most retired 
 manner, a lady seventy years of age, of whom I received 
 the following account from my landlady. She was a Ro 
 man Catholic. In her early years she had been sent to the 
 continent, and entered a convent with the design of becom 
 ing a nun ; but the climate not agreeing with her consti 
 tution, she was obliged to return to England, where, as 
 there were no monasteries, she made a vow to lead a mo 
 nastic life, in as rigid a manner as circumstances would 
 permit. She accordingly disposed of all her property to 
 be applied to charitable uses, reserving to herself only 
 twelve pounds a year; and of this small pittance she gave 
 a part to the poor, living on water gruel, and never making 
 use of lire but to boil it. She had lived in this garret a 
 great many years, without paying rent to the successive 
 Catholic inhabitants that had kept the house ; who indeed 
 cons dered her abode with them as a blessing. A priest 
 {.awe every day to confess her. t( _\ have asked her/ 1 
 
.;; LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 5? 
 
 said my landlady, " how, living as she did, she could find 
 so much employment for a confessor?" To which slie an 
 swered, that it was impossible to avoid vain thoughts. 
 
 I was once permitted to visit her. She was cheerful 
 and polite, and her conversation agreeable. Her apart 
 ment was neat; but the whole furniture consisted of a 
 mattress, a table, on which were a crucifix and a book, a 
 chair, which she gave to me to sit on, and over the mantle- 
 piece a picture of St. Veronica displaying her handkerchief, 
 on which was seen the miraculous impression of the face 
 of Christ, which she explained to me with great gravity. 
 Her countenance was pale, but she had never experienced 
 sickness ; and I may adduce her as another proof how little 
 is sufficient to maintain life and health. 
 
 At the printing house I contracted an intimacy with a 
 sensible young man of the name of Wygate, who, as his 
 parents were in good circumstances, had received a better 
 education than is common among printers. He was a to 
 lerable Latin scholar, spoke French fluently, and was fond 
 of reading. I taught him, as well as a friend of his, to 
 swim, by taking them twice only into the river ; after which 
 they stood in need of no farther assistance. We one day 
 made a party to go by water to Chelsea, in order to see the 
 College, and Don Soltero s curiosities. On our return, at 
 the request of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had 
 excited, I undressed myself, and leaped into the river. 1 
 swam from near Chelsea the whole way to Blackfriars, ex 
 hibiting, during my course, a variety of feats of activity and 
 address, both upon the surface of the water, as well as un 
 der it. This sight occasioned much astonishment and plea 
 sure to those to whom it was new. In my youth I took 
 great delight in this exercise. I knew, and could execute, 
 all the evolutions and positions of Thevenot ; and I added 
 to them some of my own invention, in which I endeavoured 
 fa unite gracefulness and utility. I took a pleasure in dis- 
 
38 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 playing them all on this occasion, and was highly flattered 
 with the admiration they excited. 
 
 \Vygate, besides his being desirous of perfecting himself 
 in this art, was the more attached to me from their being-, 
 in other respects, a conformity in our tastes and studies. 
 He at length proposed to me to make the tour of Europe 
 with him, maintaining ourselves at the same time by work 
 ing at our profession. I was on the point of consenting, 
 when I mentioned it to my friend Mr. Denham, with whom 
 I Avas glad to pass an hour whenever I had leisure. He 
 dissuaded me from the project, and advised me to think of 
 returning to Philadelphia, which he was about to do himself. 
 I must relate in this place a trait of this worthy man s cha 
 racter. 
 
 He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failing, 
 be compounded with his creditors, aud departed for Ame-r 
 rica, where, by assiduous application as a merchant, he ac 
 quired in a few years a very considerable fortune. Re 
 turning to England in the same vessel with myself, as I have 
 related above, lie invited all his old creditors to a feast* 
 When assembled, he thanked them for the readiness with 
 which they had received his small composition ; and, while 
 they expected nothing more than a simple entertainment, 
 each found under his plate, when it came to be removed, 
 a draft upon a banker for the residue of his debt, with 
 interest. 
 
 He told me that it was his intention to carry back with 
 bini 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 in 
 struct me, copy letters, and superintend the store. He ad 
 ded, that as soon as I had acquired a knowledge of mer 
 cantile transactions, he would improve my situation, by 
 sending me with a cargo of corn and flour to the American 
 islands-, and by procuring me otber lucrative commissions; 
 
LIFE OF DR. FIlAXKLItt. &) 
 
 so that, with good management and economy, I might in 
 time begin business with advantage for myself. 
 
 I relished these proposals. .London began to tire me ; 
 the agreeable hours 1 had passed at Philadelphia present 
 ed themselves to my mind, and I wished to see them re 
 vive. I consequently engaged myself to Mr. Dcnham, at 
 a salary of h i ty pounds a year. This was indeed less than 
 I earned as a compositor, but then I had a much fairer 
 prospect. I took leave therefore, as I believed for ever, 
 of printing, and gave myself up entirely to my new occu 
 pation, spending all my time either in going from house to 
 house with Mr. Denham to purchase goods, or in expedit 
 ing the workmen, &c. &c. When every thing, however, 
 was on board, I had at last a few days leisure. 
 
 During this interval, I was one day sent for by a gentle 
 man, whom I knew only by name. It was Sir William 
 Wyndham. I went to his house. He had b) some means 
 heard of my performance between Chelsea and Blackfriars, 
 and that I had taught the art of swimming to Wygate and 
 another young man in the course of a few hours. His two 
 sons were on the point of setting out on their travels ; he 
 was desirous that they should previously learn to swim, and 
 offered me a very liberal reward if I would undertake to 
 instruct them. They were not yet arrived in town, and 
 the stay I should make was uncertain ; I could not there 
 fore accept his proposal. I was led, however, to suppose 
 from this incident, that if I had wished to remain in Lon 
 don, and open a swimming school, I should perhaps have 
 gained a great deal of money. , This idea struck me so 
 forcibly that, had the offer been made sooner, I should have 
 dismissed the thought of returning as yet to America. 
 Some years after, you and I had a more important business 
 to settle with one of the sons of Sir William Wyndham, 
 then Lord Egremont. But let us not anticipate events, 
 
 1 thus passed about eighteen months in London, work- 
 
60 JLIFE OF IHI. FitAJSKUA. 
 
 ing- almost without intermission at my trade, avoiding all 
 expence on my own account, except going now and theu 
 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 con 
 sidered as taken from my little savings, was a very great 
 sum. I had, notwithstanding this, a regard lor him, as he 
 possessed many amiable qualities. But though I had done 
 nothing for myself in point of fortune, I had increased my 
 stock of knowledge, either by the many excellent books I 
 had read, or the conversation of learned and literary per 
 sons with whom I was acquainted. 
 
 We sailed from Gravesend the 23rd of July, 1726. For 
 the incidents of my voyage I refer you to my Journal, where 
 you will find all its circumstances minutely related. We 
 landed at Philadelphia on the llth of the following Oc 
 tober. 
 
 Keith had been deprived of his office of governor, and 
 was succeeded by Major Gordon. I met him walking in 
 the streets as a private individual. He appeared a little 
 ashamed at seeing me, but passed on without saying any 
 thing. 
 
 I should have been equally ashamed myself at meeting 
 Miss Read, had not her family, justly despairing of my re 
 turn after reading my letter, advised her to give me up, and 
 marry a potter, of the name of Rogers ; to which she con 
 sented : but he never made her happy, and she -soon sepa 
 rated from him, refusing to cohabit with him, or even bear 
 his name, on account of a report which prevailed, of his 
 having another wife. His skill in his profession had se 
 duced Miss Read s parents; but he WHS as bad a subject 
 as he was excellent as a workman. He involved himself 
 in debt, and fled, in the year 17:27 or 1728, to the West 
 Indies, where he died. 
 
 During my absence Kcimer had taken a more 
 
LIFE OF 1311. FRANKLIN. 61 
 
 rable house, in which he kept a shop, that was well sup 
 plied with paper, and various other article:-;. He had pro 
 cured some new types, arid a number of workmen; among 
 whom, however, there was not one who was good for any 
 thing ; and he appeared not to want business. 
 
 Mr. Denham took a warehouse in Water- street, where 
 we exhibited our commodities. I applied myself closely, 
 studied accounts, and became in a short time very expert 
 in trade. We lodged and ate together. He was sincerely 
 attached to me, and acted towards me as if he had been 
 my father. On my side, I respected and loved him. My 
 situation was happy ; but it was a happiness of no long 
 duration. 
 
 Early in February, 1727, when I entered into my twen 
 ty-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 in* 
 deed a sort of disappointment when I found myself likely to 
 recover,- and regretted that I had still to experience, sooner 
 or later, the same disagreeable scene again. 
 
 I have forgotten what was Mr. Denham s disorder ; but 
 it was a tedious one, and he at last sunk under it. He left 
 me a small legacy in his will, as a testimony of his friendship ; 
 and I was once more abandoned to myself in the widQ 
 world, the warehouse being confided to the care of the tes 
 tamentary executor, who dismissed me. 
 
 My brother-in-law, Holmes, who happened to be at Phi 
 ladelphia, advised me to return to my former .profession ; 
 and Keimer offered me a very considerable salary if I would 
 undertake the management of his printing-office, that he 
 might devote himself entirely to the superintendence of his 
 shop. His wife and relations in London had given me a 
 bad character of him ; and I was loth, for the present, to 
 have any concern with him. I endeavoured to get employ 
 ment as clerk to a merchant ; but not readily finding a si 
 tuation, I was induced to accept Keimer s proposal. 
 
 J 
 
62 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 The following were the persons I found in his printing- 
 house : 
 
 Hugh Meredith, a Pennsylvanian, about thirty-five years 
 of age. He had been brought up to husbandry, was ho 
 nest, sensible, had some experience, and was fond of read 
 ing ; but too much addicted to drinking. 
 
 Stephen Potts, a young rustic, just broke from school, 
 and of rustic education, with endowments rather above the 
 common order, and a competent portion of understanding 
 and gaiety ; but a little idle. Keimer had engaged these 
 two at very low wages, which he had promised to raise 
 every three months a shilling a week, provided their im 
 provement in the typographic art should merit it. This fu 
 ture increase of wages was the bait he had made use of to 
 ensnare them. Meredith was to work at the press, and 
 Potts to bind books, which he had engaged to teach them, 
 though he understood neither himself. 
 
 John Savage, an Irishman, who had been brought up to 
 no trade, and whose service, for a period of four years, 
 Keimer had purchased of the captain of a ship. He was 
 also to be a pressman. 
 
 George Webb, an Oxford scholar, whose time he had in 
 like manner bought for four years, intending him for a com 
 positor. I shall speak more of him presently. 
 
 Lastly, David Harry, a country lad, who was appren 
 ticed to him. 
 
 I soon perceived that Keimer s intention, in engaging^ 
 me at a price so much above w r hat he was accustomed to 
 give, was, that I might form all these raw journeymen and 
 apprentices, who scarcely cost him any thing, and who,, 
 being indentured, would, as soon as they should be suffi 
 ciently instructed, enable him to do without me. I never 
 theless adhered to my agreement. I put the office in or 
 der, which \vas in the utmost confusion, and brought his 
 people by degrees, to pay attention to their work, uud to 
 execute it in a more masterly tyle. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 63 
 
 It was singular to see an Ox-ford scholar in the condition 
 of a purchased servant. He was not more than eighteen 
 years of age, and the following are the particulars he gav 
 me of himself. Bora at Gloucester, he had been educat 
 ed at a grammar school, and had distinguished himself 
 among the scholars hy his superior style of acting, when 
 they represented dramatic performances. He was a mem 
 ber of a literary club in the town ; and some pieces of his 
 composition, in prose as well as in verse, had been insert- 
 .ed 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 gui 
 neas to pay his -quarter s board, he decamped with the mo 
 ney, from Oxford, hid his gown in a hedge, and travelled 
 to London. There, having no friend to direct him, he fell 
 into bad company, soon squandered his fifteen guineas, 
 could find no way of being introduced to the actors, be 
 came contemptible, pawned his clothes, and was in want 
 of bread. As he was walking along the streets, almost 
 famished with hunger, and not knowing what to do, a re 
 cruiting-bill was put into his hand, which offered an imme 
 diate treat and bounty-money to whoever was disposed to 
 serve in America. He instantly repaired to the house of 
 rendezvous, inlisted himself, was put on board a ship and 
 conveyed to America, without ever writing a line to infornv 
 his parents what was become of him. His mental vivacity, 
 and good natural disposition, made him an excellent com 
 panion ; but he was indolent, thoughtless, and to the last 
 degree imprudent. 
 
 John, the Irishman, soon ran away. I began to live 
 very agreeably with the rest. They respected me, 
 and -the more so as they found Keimer incapable of in 
 structing them, and as they learned something from me 
 every day. We never worked on a Saturday, it being Kei- 
 (ner s Sabbath, so that I had tvvo days a week for reading. 
 
64 LIFE OF DK. FKAMLL1JN. 
 
 I increased my acquaintance with persons of informa 
 tion and knowledge in the town. Keimer himself treated 
 me with great civility, and apparent esteem ; and I had no 
 thing to give me uneasiness but my debt to Vernon, which 
 I was unable to pay, my savings as yet being very little. 
 He had the goodness, however, not to ask me for the 
 money. 
 
 Our press was frequently in want of the necessary quan 
 tity of letter, and there was no such trade as that of letter- 
 founder in America. I had seen the practice of this art at 
 the house of James, in London, but had at the time paid it 
 very little attention; I however, contrived to fabricate a 
 mould. I made use of such letters as we had for punches, 
 founded new letters of lead in matrices of clay, and thus 
 supplied in a tolerable manner, the wants that were most 
 pressing. 
 
 I also, upon occasion, engraved various ornaments, 
 made ink, gave an eye to the shop in short, I was in every 
 respect the factotum. But useful as I made myself, I per 
 ceived that my services became every day of less impor 
 tance, in proportion as the other men improved ; and when 
 Ksimer paid me my second quarter s wages, he gave me 
 to understand they were too heavy, and that he thought I 
 ought to make an abatement. . He became by degrees less 
 civil, and assumed more the tone of master. He frequent 
 ly found fault, was difficult to please, and seemed always 
 on the point of coming to an open quarrel with me. 
 
 I continued, however, to bear it patiently, conceiving 
 thai his ill humour was partly occasioned by the derange 
 ment and embarrassment of his affairs. At last a slight 
 incident broke our connection. Hearing a noise in the 
 neighbourhood, 1 put my head out at the window, to see 
 what was the matter. Keimer being in the street, observ 
 ed me, and in a loud and angry tone bid me to mind my 
 work ; adding some reproachful words, which piqued me 
 the more, as they were uttered in the street; and the 
 
LIFE Of DR> FRANKLIN. G5 
 
 Neighbours, whom the same noise attracted to the windows, 
 were witnesses of the manner in which I was treated. He 
 immediately came up to the printing-room, where he con 
 tinued to exclaim against me. The quarrel became warm 
 on both sides, and he gave me notice to quit him at the 
 expiration of three months, as had been agreed upon be 
 tween u& ; regretting that he was obliged to give me so 
 long a term. I told him that his regret was superfluous, 
 as I was ready to quit him instantly; and I took my hat 
 and came out of the house, begging Meredith to take care 
 of some things which I left, and bring them to my lodgings. 
 Meredith came to me in the evening. We talked for 
 some time upon the quarrel that had taken place. He had 
 conceived a great veneration forme, and was sorry I should 
 quit the house, while he remained in it. He dissuaded 
 me from returning to my native country, as I began to 
 think of doing. He reminded me that Keimer owed more 
 than he possessed ; that his creditors began to be alarmed ; 
 that he kept his shop in a wretched state, often selling 
 things at prime cost for the sake of ready money, and con 
 tinually giving credit without keeping any accounts ; that 
 of consequence he must very soon fail, which would occa 
 sion a vacancy from which I might derive advantage. I 
 objected my want of money. Upon which he informed me 
 that his father had a very high opinion of me, and, from a 
 conversation that had passed between them, he was sure 
 he would advance whatever might be necessary to esta 
 blish us, if I was willing to enter into partnership with him, 
 " My time with Keimer," added he, " will be at an end 
 next spring. In the mean time we may send to London 
 for our press and types. I know that I am no workman; 
 but if you agree to the proposal, your skill in the business 
 will be balanced by the capital I shall furnish, and we will 
 share the profits equally." His proposal was reasonable, 
 fcnd I fell in with it. His father, who was then in town, 
 
 i 
 
6G LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 approved of it. He knew that I had some ascendency,over 
 his son, as I had been able to prevail on him to abstain for 
 a long- time from drinking brandy ; and he hoped thai, 
 vrhen more closely connected with him, I should cure him 
 entirely of this unfortunate habit. 
 
 I gave the father a list of what it would be necessary to 
 import from London. He took it to a merchant, and the 
 order was given. We agreed to keep the secret till the 
 arrival of the materials, and I was in the mean time to pro 
 cure work, if possible, in another printing-house ; but there 
 was no place vacant, and I remained idle. After some 
 days, Keimer having the expectation of being employed to 
 print some New Jersey money-bills, that would require 
 types and engravings which T only could furnish, and fear 
 ful that Bradford, by engaging me, might deprive him of 
 this undertaking, sent me a very civil message, telling me 
 that old friends ought not to be disunited on account of a 
 few words, which were the effect only of a momentary pas 
 sion, and inviting me to return to him. Meredith per 
 suaded me to comply with the invitation, particularly as it 
 would afford him mere 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 re 
 paired to Burlington together, where I executed the whole 
 to the general satisfaction ; and he received a sum of 
 money for this work, which enabled him to keep his head 
 above water for a considerable time longer. 
 
 At Burlington I formed an acquaintance with the prin 
 cipal personages of the province ; many of whom were 
 commissioned by the assembly to superintend the press, 
 and to sc* that ne more bills were printed than the law 
 
L1F OF DR. FRANKLIN. 07 
 
 Had prescribed. Accordingly they were constantly with 
 us, each in his turn ; and he that came, commonly brought 
 with him a friend or two to bear him company. My mind 
 was more cultivated by reading than Keimer s ; and it was 
 for this veason, probably, that they set more value on my 
 conversation. They took me to their houses, introduced 
 me to their friends, and treated me with the greatest 
 civility ; while Keimer, though master, saw himself a little 
 neglected. He was, in fact, a strange animal, ignorant of 
 the common modes of life, apt to oppose with rudeness 
 generally received opinions, an enthusiast in certain points 
 of religion, disgustingly unclean in his person, and a little 
 knavish withal. 
 
 We remained there "nearly three months, and at the 
 expiration of this period I could include in the list of my 
 friends, Judge Allen, Samuel Bustil, secretary of the 
 province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, several of the 
 Smiths, all members of the assembly, and Isaac Decon, 
 inspector-general. The last was a shrewd and subtle old 
 man. He told me, that, when a boy, his first employment 
 had been that of carrying clay to the brick-makers ; that 
 he did not learn to write till he was somewhat advanced in 
 life ; and that he was afterwards employed as an underling to 
 a surveyor, who taught him his trade, and that by industry 
 he had at last acquired a competent fortune. " I foresee/ 
 said he one day to me," that you will soon supplant this man/ 
 speaking of Keimer, " and get a fortune in the business 
 at Philadelphia." He was wholly ignorant at the time, of 
 my intention of establishing myself there, or any where else. 
 These friends were very serviceable to me in the end, as 
 was I also, upon occasion, to some of them ; and thcv have 
 continued ever sinoe their esteem for me. 
 
 Before I relate the particulars of my entrance into 
 business, it may be proper to inform you what was at that 
 the state of my mind as to moral principles, that you 
 F 2 
 
6S LIFE OF DK. FRANKLIN. 
 
 may see the degree of influence they had upon the sub 
 sequent events of my life. 
 
 My parents had given me betimes religious impressions ; 
 and I received from my infancy a pious education in the 
 principles of Calvinism. But scarcely \vas I arrived at 
 fifteen years of age, when, after having doubted in turn of 
 different tenets, according as I found them combated in 
 the different books that I read, I. began to doubt of reve 
 lation 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 pro 
 duced 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, 1 
 soon became a perfect deist. My arguments perverted 
 some other young persons, particularly Collins and Ralph. 
 But in the sequel, when I recollected that they had both 
 used me extremely ill, without the smallest remorse ; when 
 I considered the behaviour of Keith, another free-thinker, 
 and my own conduct towards Vernon and Miss Read, which 
 at times gave me great uneasiness, I was led to suspect 
 that this doctrine, though it might be true, was not very 
 useful. I began to entertain a less favourable opinion of 
 my London pamphlet to which I had prefixed as a motto, 
 the following lines of Dryden : 
 
 Whatever is is right; though purblind man 
 Sees but a part of the chain, the nearest link, 
 His eyes not carrying to the equal beam 
 That poises all above. 
 
 And of which the object was to prove, from the attributes 
 of God, his goodness, wisdom, and power, that there could 
 be no such thing as evil in the world ; that vice and virtue 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 69 
 
 did not in reality exist, and were nothing more than vain 
 distinctions. I no longer regarded it as so blameless a 
 work as I had formerly imagined ; and I suspected that 
 some error must have imperceptibly glided into my argu 
 ment, by which all the inferences I had drawn from it had 
 been affected, as frequently happens in metaphysical rea 
 sonings. In a word, I was at last convinced that truth, 
 probity, and sincerity in transactions between man and 
 man, were of the utmost importance to the happiness of 
 life; and I resolved from that moment, and wrote the re 
 solution in my journal, to practise them as long as I lived. 
 
 Revelation, indeed, as such, had no influence on my 
 mind ; but I was of opinion that, though certain actions 
 could not be bad merely because revelation had prohibit 
 ed them, or good because it enjoined them, yet it was pro 
 bable that those actions were prohibited because they were 
 bad for us, or enjoined because advantageous in their na 
 ture, all things considered. This persuasion, divine pro 
 vidence, or some guardian angel, and perhaps a concur 
 rence of favourable circumstances co-operating, preserved 
 me from all immorality, or gross and voluntary injustice, 
 to which my want of religion was calculated to expose me, 
 in the dangerous period of youth, and in the hazardous si 
 tuations in which I sometimes found myself, among stran 
 gers, and at a distance from the eye and admonitions of my 
 father. I may say voluntary, because the errors into which 
 I had fallen, had been in a manner the forced result either 
 of my own inexperience, or the dishonesty of others. 
 Tims, before I entered on my new career, 1 had imbibed 
 solid principles, and a character of probity. I knew their 
 value ; and T made a solemn engagement with myself ne 
 ver to depart from them. 
 
 I had not long returned from Burlrngton before the 
 printing materials arrived from London. I settled my ac 
 counts with Keimer, and quitted him, with his own con- 
 
70 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 
 
 sent, before lie had any knowledge of our plan. W-a 
 found a house to let near the market. We took it ; and 
 to render the rent less burdensome, (it was then twenty- 
 ibur pounds a year, but I have since known it let for se 
 venty,) we admitted Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, with hi3 
 family, who eased us of a considerable part of it ; and with 
 him we agreed to board. 
 
 We had no sooner unpacked our letters, and put our 
 press in order, than a person of my acquaintance, George 
 House, brought us a countryman, whom he had met in the 
 streets inquiring for a printer. Our money was almost 
 exhausted by the number or things we had been obliged 
 to procure. The five shillings we received from this coun 
 tryman, the first fruits of our earnings, coming so season 
 ably, gave me more pleasure than any sum I have since 
 gained ; and the recollection of the gratitude I felt on this 
 occasion to George House, has rendered me often more 
 disposed, than perhaps I should otherwise have been, to 
 encourage young beginners in trade. 
 
 There are in every country morose beings, who are "al* 
 -ways prognosticating ruin. There was one of this stamp 
 at Philadelphia. He was a man of fortune, declining in 
 years, had an air of wisdom, and a very grave manner of 
 speaking. His name was Samuel Mickle. I knew him 
 not ; but he stopped one day at my door, and asked me if 
 I was the young man who had lately opened a new print 
 ing-house. Upon my answering in the affirmative, he said 
 lie was very sorry for me, as it was an expensive under 
 taking, 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 un 
 doubted fact, the circumstances which might lead us to 
 suppose the contrary, such as new buildings, and an ad- 
 \anced price of rent, to be deceitful appearances, whicfi, 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 71 
 
 in reality, contributed to hasten the general ruin; and he 
 gave me so long a detail of misfortunes, actually existing-, 
 or which were soon to take place, that he lei t me almost in 
 a state of despair. Had I known this man before I enter 
 ed into trade, I should doubtless never have ventured. He 
 continued, however, to live in this place of decay, and to 
 declaim in the same style, refusing for many years to buy a 
 house because all was going to wreck; and in the end I 
 had the satisfaction to see him pay live times as much for 
 one as it would have cost him had he purchased it when he 
 first began his lamentations. 
 
 I ought to have related, that, during the autumn of the 
 preceding year, I had united the majority of well-informed 
 persons of my acquaintance into a club, which we called by 
 the name of the Junto, and the object of which was to 
 improve our understandings. We met every Friday even 
 ing. The regulations I drew up, obliged every member 
 to propose, in his turn, one or more questions upon some 
 point of morality, politics, or philosophy, which were to be 
 discussed by the society ; ami to read, once in three months, 
 an essay of his own .Composition, on whatever subject he 
 pleased. Our debates were under the direction of a presi 
 dent, and were to be dictated only by a sincere desire of 
 truth ; the pleasure of disputing, and the vanity of triumph, 
 bavins 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 Breintna!, 
 whose occupation was that of a scrivener. He was a 
 middle-aged man, of a good natural disposition, strongly 
 attached to his friends, a great lover of poetry, reading 
 every thing that came in his way, and writing tolerably 
 well, ingenious in many little trifles, and of an agreeable 
 conversation. 
 
7 2 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN; 
 
 Thomas Godfrey, a skilful, though self-taught" mathe 
 matician, and who was afterwards the inventor of what 
 now goes by the name of Hadley s quadrant ; but he had, 
 little knowledge out of his own line, and "was insupportable 
 in company, always requiring, like the majority of mathe 
 maticians that had fallen in my way, an unusual precision 
 in every thing that is said, continually contradicting, or 
 making trifling distinctions ; a sure way of defeating all the 
 ends of conversation. He very soon left us. " " 
 
 Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, and who became afterwards 
 surveyor-general. He was fond of books, and wrote 
 verses. 
 
 William Parsons, brought up to the trade of a shoe 
 maker, but who, having a taste for reading, had acquired 
 a profound knowledge of mathematics. He first studied 
 them with a view to astrology, and was, afterwards, the 
 first to laugh at his . folly. He also became surveyor- 
 general. 
 
 William Mawgridge, a joiner, and very excellent me 
 chanic ; and in other respects a man of solid understanding. 
 
 Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb, of 
 whom I have already spoken. * -<*> > 
 
 Robert Grace, a young man of fortune ; generous, ani 
 mated, and witty; fond of epigrams, but more fond of his 
 friends. ~> 
 
 And lastly, William Coleman, at that time a merchant s 
 clerk, and nearly of my own age. He had a cooler and 
 clearer head, a better heart, and more scrupulous morals, 
 than almost any other person I have ever met with. He 
 became a very respectable merchant, and one of our pro 
 vincial judges. Our friendship subsisted, without inter 
 ruption, for more than forty years, till the period of his 
 death ; and the club continued to e-xist almost as long. 
 
 This was the best school of politics and philosophy that 
 then existed in the province; for our questions, which 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 73 
 
 were read a week previous to their discussion, induced us 
 to peruse attentively such books as were written upon the 
 subjects proposed, that we might be able to speak upon 
 them more pertinently. We thus acquired the habit of 
 conversing more agreeably; every object being discussed 
 conformably to our regulations, and in a manner to prevent 
 mutual disgust. To this circumstance may be attributed 
 the long duration of the club ; which I shall have frequent 
 occasion to mention as I proceed. 
 
 I have introduced it here, as being one of the means on 
 which I had to count for success in my business, every 
 member exerting himself to procure work for us. Bre- 
 intnal, 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 
 pica letter, with heavy notes in the smallest type. I com 
 posed a sheet a day, and Meredith put it to the press. It 
 was frequently eleven o clock at night, sometimes later, be 
 fore 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 com 
 pose a sheet a day, that one evening, when my form was 
 imposed, and my day s work, as I thought, at an end, an 
 accident having broken this form, and deranged two com 
 plete folio pages, I immediately distributed and composed 
 them anew before I went to bed. 
 
 This unwearied industry, which was perceived by our 
 neighbours, began to acquire us reputation and credit. I 
 learned, among other things, that our new printing-house 
 being the subject of conversation at a club of merchants, 
 who met every evening, it was the general opinion that it 
 would fail ; there being already two printing-houses in the 
 town, Keimer s and Bradford s. But Dr. Bard, whom 
 
M LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 
 
 you and I had occasion to sec, many years after, at his na 
 tive town of St. Andrew s, in Scotland, was of a different 
 opinion. " The industry of this Franklin," said he, " is su 
 perior to any thing- of the kind I ever witnessed. I see him 
 still at work when I return from the club at night, and he 
 is at it again in the morning before his neighbours are out 
 of bed." This account struck the rest of the assembly, 
 and shortly after, one of its members came to our house, 
 and offered to supply us with articles of stationary ; but we 
 wished not as yet to embarrass ourselves with keeping a 
 shop. It is not for the sake of applause that I enter so 
 freely into the particulars of my industry, but that such oi 
 rny descendants as shall read these memoirs may know the 
 use of this virtue, by seeing in the recital of my life the ef 
 fects 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 em 
 ploy him immediately; but I foolishly told him, under the 
 rose, that I intended shortly to publish a new periodical 
 paper, and that we should then have work for him. My 
 hopes of success, which I imparted to him, were founded 
 on the circumstance, that the only paper we had in Phila 
 delphia at that time, and which Bradford printed, was a 
 paltry thing, miserably conducted, in no respect amusing, 
 and which yet was profitable. I consequently supposed 
 that a good work of this kind could not fail of success, 
 Webb betrayed my secret to Keimer, who, to prevent me > 
 immediately published the prospectus of a paper that he 
 intended to institute himself, and in which Webb was to be. 
 engaged. 
 
 I was exasperated at this proceeding, and, with a \few 
 to counteract them, not being able at present to institute 
 my own paper, I wrote some humorous pieces in Brad* 
 ford s, under the title of the Busy Body and which we* 
 
OF DR. FRANKLIN. 75 
 
 >ontinued for several months by Breiutnal. I hereby fix 
 ed the attention of the public upon Bradford s paper; and 
 the prospectus of Keimer, which we turned into ridicule, 
 was treated with contempt. He began, notwithstanding, 
 his paper; and after continuing it for nine months, having" 
 at most not more than ninety subscribers, he oifered it to 
 me for a mere trifle. I had for some time been ready for 
 such an engagement; I therefore instantly took it upon 
 myself, and, in a few years, it proved extremely profitable 
 to me. 
 
 I perceive that I am apt to speak in the first person, 
 though our partnership still continued. It is, perhaps, 
 because, in fact, the Avhole business devolved upon me. 
 Meredith was no compositor, and but an indifferent press 
 man ; and it was rarely that he abstained from hard drink 
 ing. My friends were sorry to see me connected with him ; 
 but I contrived to derive from it the utmost advantage the 
 case admitted. 
 
 Our first number produced no other effect than an> 
 other paper which had appeared in the province, as to type 
 and printing ; but some remarks, in my peculiar style of 
 writing, upon the dispute which then prevailed between go 
 vernor Burnet and the Massachusetts assembly, struck 
 some "persons as above mediocrity, caused the paper and its 
 editors to be talked of, and in a few weeks, induced them 
 to become our subscribers. Many others followed their 
 example; and our subscription continued to increase. 
 This was one of the first good effects of the pains I had 
 taken to learn to put my ideas on paper. I derived this 
 farther advantage from it, that the leading men of the place, 
 seeing in the author of this publication a man so well able 
 to use his pen, thought it right to patronize and encourage 
 me. 
 
 The votes, laws, and other public pieces, were printed by 
 Bradford. An address of the house of assembly to the go- 
 
 - 
 
76 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 vernorhad been executed by him in a very coarse and in-* 
 correct manner. We reprinted it with accuracy and neat 
 ness, and sent a copy to every member. They perceived 
 the difference ; and it so strengthened the influence of our 
 friends in the assembly, that we were nominated its printer 
 for the following year. 
 
 Among- these friends I ought not to forget one member* 
 in particular. Mr. Hamilton, whom I have mentioned in 
 a former part of my narrative, and who was now returned 
 from England. He warmly interested himself for me on 
 1his occasion, as he did likewise on many others afterwards ; 
 having continued his kindness to me till his death. 
 
 About this period Mr. Vernon reminded me of the debt 
 I owed him, but without pressing me for payment. I 
 wrote a handsome letter on the occasion, begging him to 
 wait a little longer, to which he consented ; and as soon as 
 I was able I paid him, principal and * interest, with many 
 expressions of gratitude ; so that this error of my life was 
 in a manner atoned for. 
 
 But another trouble now happened to me, which I had 
 not the smallest reason to expect. Meredith s father, who, 
 according to our agreement, was to defray the whole ex- 
 pence of our printing materials, had only paid a hundred 
 pounds. Another hundred was still due, and the merchant 
 being tired of waiting, commenced a suit against us. We 
 bailed the action, but with the melancholy prospect, that, 
 if the money was not forthcoming at the time ; fixed, the 
 affair would come to issue, judgment be put in execution, 
 our delightful hopes be annihilated, and ourselves entirely 
 ruined ; as the type and press must be sold, perhaps, at 
 half their value, to pay the debt. 
 
 In this distress, two v eal friends, whoso generous con 
 duct I have never forgotten, and never shall forget while I 
 retain the remembrance of any thing, came to me sepa 
 rately, without the knowledge of each other, and without 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 77 
 
 my having applied to either of them. Each offered me 
 whatever money might be necessary to take the business 
 into my own hands, if the thing was practicable, as they 
 did not like I should continue in partnership with Mere 
 dith, who, they said, was frequently seen drunk in the 
 streets, and gambling at ale-houses, which very much in 
 jured our credit. These friends were William Coleman 
 and Robert Grace. I told them, that while there remain 
 ed any probability that the Merediths would fulfil their part 
 of the compact, I could not propose a separation, as I 
 conceived myself to be under obligations to them for what 
 they had done already, and were still disposed to do, if 
 they had the power; but, in the end, should they fail in 
 their engagement, and our partnership be dissolved, I 
 should then think myself at liberty to accept the kindness 
 of my friends. 
 
 Things remained for some time in this state. At last, I 
 said one day to my partner, " Your father is, perhaps dis 
 satisfied with your having a share only in the business, and 
 is unwilling to do for two, what he would do for you alone. 
 Tell me frankly if that be the case, and I will resign the 
 whole to you, and do for myself as well as I can." " No," 
 said he, " in/ father has really been disappointed in his 
 hopes ; he is not able to pay, and I wish to put him to no 
 farther inconvenience. I see that I am not at all calculat 
 ed for a printer : I was educated as a farmer, and it was 
 absurd in me to come here, at thirty years of age, and bind 
 myself apprentice to a new trade. Many of my country 
 men are going to settle in North Carolina, where the soil 
 is <. xceedingly favourable. I am tempted to go with thera, 
 and to resume my former occupation. You will doubtless 
 find friends who will assist you. If you will take upon 
 yourself the deSts of the partnership, return my father the 
 hundred pounds he has advanced, pay my little personal 
 debts, and give me thirty pounds and a new saddle, I will 
 
78 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN". 
 
 renounce the partnership, and consign over the whole stock 
 to you." 
 
 I accepted this proposal -without hesitation. It was 
 committed to paper, and signed and sealed without delay. 
 I gave him what he demanded, and he departed soon after 
 for Carolina, from whence he sent me, in the following- 
 year, two long letters, containing the best accounts that 
 had yet been given of that country, as to climate, soil, 
 agriculture, &c. for he was well versed in these matters. 
 I published them in my newspaper, and they were received 
 with great satisfaction. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, I applied to my two friends, 
 and not wishing to give a disobliging preference to either 
 of them, I accepted from each, half what he had oifered 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 advertise 
 ment, of the partnership being dissolved. This 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, and which amounted to 
 fifteen thousand pounds, being soon to expire. The weal 
 thy inhabitants, prejudiced against every sort of paper cur 
 rency, from the fear of its depreciation, of which there had 
 been an instance in the province of New England, to the 
 injury of its holders, strongly opposed the measure. We 
 bad discussed this affair in our Junto, in which I was on the 
 side of the new emission ; convinced that the first small 
 sum, fabricated in 1723, had done much good in the pro 
 vince, by favouring commerce, industry, and population, 
 since all the houses were now inhabited, and many others 
 building ; whereas I remembered B to have seen, when I 
 first paraded the streets of Philadelphia eating my roll, the 
 majority of those in Walnut-street, Second-street, Fourth* 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 70 
 
 street, as well as a great number in Clicsnut and other 
 streets, with papers on them signifying that they were to be 
 let ; which made me think at the time that the inhabitants 
 of the town were deserting it one after another. 
 
 Our debates made me so fully master of the subject, that 
 I wrote and published an anonymous pamphlet, entitled, 
 " An Enquiry into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper 
 Currency." It was very well received by the lower and 
 middling class of people; but it displeased the opulent, as it 
 increased the clamour in favour of the new emission. Hav 
 ing, hoWever, no writer among them capable of answering 
 it, their opposition became less violent; and there being in 
 the house of assembly a majority for the measure, it passed. 
 The friends I had acquired in the house, persuaded that I 
 had done the country essential service on this occasion, re 
 warded me by giving me the printing of the bills. It was a 
 lucrative employment, and proved a very seasonable help to 
 me; another advantage which I derived from having habi 
 tuated myself to write. 
 
 Time and experience so fully demonstrated the utility of 
 paper currency, that it never after experienced any consi 
 derable opposition ; so that it soon amounted to 55,0001. 
 and, in the year 1739, to 80,0001. It has since risen, 
 during the last war, to 350,0001. trade, buildings, and 
 population, having in the interval continually increased : 
 but 1 am now convinced that there are limits beyond which 
 paper money would be prejudicial. 
 
 I soon after obtained, by the influence of my friend Ha* 
 milton, the printing of the Newcastle paper money, another 
 profitable work, as I then thought it, little things appear 
 ing great to persons of moderate fortune; and they were 
 really great to me, as proving great encouragements. He 
 also procured me the printing of the laws and votes of that 
 government, which I retained as long as I continued in tUo 
 business. 
 
6 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 I now opened a small stationer s shop. I kept bonds and 
 agreements of all kinds, drawn up in a more accurate form 
 than had yet been seen in that part of the world ; a work 
 in which I was assisted by my friend Breintnal. I had also 
 paper, parchment, pasteboard, books, &c. One White- 
 mash, an excellent compositor, whom T had known in Lon 
 don, came to offer himself: I engaged him ; and he conti 
 nued constantly and diligently to work with me. I also 
 took an apprentice, the son of Aquila Rose. 
 
 I began to pay, by degrees, the debt I had contracted ; 
 and, in order to insure my credit and character as a trades 
 man, I took care not only to be really industrious and fru 
 gal, but also to avoid every appearance of the contrary. 1 
 was plainly dressed, and never seen in any place of public 
 amusement. 1 never went a fishing or hunting. A book, 
 indeed, enticed me sometimes from my work, but it was 
 seldom, by stealth, and occasioned no scandal; and to show 
 that I did not think myself above my profession, I conveyed 
 home, sometimes in a wheelbarrow, the paper I purchased 
 at the warehouses. 
 
 I thus obtained the reputation of being an industrious 
 young man, and very punctual in his payments. The mer 
 chants who imported articles of stationary solicited my cus 
 tom ; others ofiered to furnish me with books, and my little 
 trade went on prosperously. 
 
 Meanwhile the credit and business of Keimer diminish 
 ing every day, he was at last forced to sell his stock to sa 
 tisfy his creditors ; and he betook himself to Barbadoes, 
 where he lived for some time in a very impoverished state. 
 His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had instructed 
 while 1 worked for Keimer, having bought his materials, 
 succeeded him in the business. I was apprehensive, at 
 tirst, of finding in Harry a powerful competitor, as he was 
 allied to an opulent and respectable family; I therefore , 
 proposed a partnership, which, happily for me, he rejected 
 
LIfE OF DR. FRANKLIN, Si 
 
 \vith disdain. He was extremely proud, thought himself a 
 Fine gentleman, lived extravagantly, and pcrsued amuse 
 ments which suilbrcd him to be scarcely ever at home ; ot 
 consequence he became in debt, neglected his business, 
 and business neglected him. Finding in a short time. no 
 thing- to do in the country, he followed Keimer to Barbadoes, 
 carrying his printing materials with him. There the appren 
 tice 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. Thd 
 person who purchased them employed Keimcr to manage 
 the business ; but he died a few years after. 
 
 I had now at Philadelphia no competitor but Bradford, 
 who, being in easy circumstances, did not engage in the 
 printing of books, except now and then as workmen chan 
 ced to offer themselves ; and was not anxious to extend his 
 trade. He had, however, one advantage over me, as ho 
 had the direction of the post-office, and was of consequence 
 supposed to have better opportunities of obtaining news. 
 His paper was also supposed to be more advantageous to 
 advertising customers ; and in consequence of that sup 
 position, his advertisements were much more numerous 
 than mine : this was a source of great profit to him, and 
 disadvantageous to me. It was to no purpose that I really 
 procured other papers, and distributed my own, by means 
 of the post ; the public took for granted my inability in this 
 respect ; and I was indeed unable to conquer it in any 
 other mode than by bribing the post-boys, who served me 
 only by stealth, Bradford being so illiberal as to forbid 
 them. This treatment of his excited my resentment ; and 
 my disgust was so^rooted, that, when I afterwards suc 
 ceeded him in the post-office, I took care to avoid copying 
 his example. 
 
 G 
 
82 LIFE Ol DR, FRANKLIN 
 
 I had hitherto continued to board with Godfrey, who, 
 with his wife and children, occupied part of my house r 
 and half of the shop for his business ; at which indeed he 
 workeu very little, being always absorbed by mathematics. 
 Mrs. Godfrey formed a wish of marrying me to the daugh 
 ter of one of her relation. She contrived various oppor 
 tunities of bringing us together, till she saw that I was 
 captivated, which was not difficult, the lady in question 
 possessing great personal merit. The parents encouraged 
 my addresses, by inviting me continually to supper, and 
 leaving us together, till at last it was time to come to an 
 explanation. Mrs. Godfrey undertook to negociate our 
 little treaty. I gave her to understand, that I expected to 
 receive with the young lady a sum of money that would 
 enable me at least to discharge the remainder of the debt 
 for my printing materials. It was then, I believe, not more 
 than a hundred pounds. She brought me for answer, that 
 they had no such sum at their disposal. I observed that it 
 might easily be obtained, by a mortgage on their house. 
 The reply to this was, after a few days interval, that they 
 did not approve of the match ; that they had consulted 
 Bradford, and found that the business of a printer was not 
 lucrative ; that my letters would soon be worn out, and 
 must be supplied with new ones ; that Keimer and Harry 
 had failed, aiid that, probably, I should do so too. Accord 
 ingly they forbade me the house, and the young lady was con 
 fined. I know not if they had really changed their minds, 
 or if it was merely an artifice, supposing our affections to be 
 too far engaged for us to desist, and that we should contrive 
 to marry secretly, which would leave them at liberty to 
 give or not as they pleased. But, suspecting this motive, 
 I never went again to their house. 
 
 Some time after, Mrs. Godfrey informed me that they 
 were very favourably disposed towards me, and wished mo 
 
LIF OF DR. FRANKLIN* 83 
 
 to renew the acquaintance ; but I declared a firm resolu 
 tion never to have any tiling more to do with the family. 
 The Godfreys expressed some resentment at this : and as 
 we could no longer agree, they changed their residence, 
 leaving me in possession of the whole house* I then re 
 solved 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 expence and 
 inconvenience, besides the perpetual risk of injuring my 
 health, and catching a disease which 1 dreaded above all 
 things. But I was fortunate enough to escape this clanger*. 
 
 As a neighbour and old acquaintance, I had kept up a 
 friendly intimacy with the family of Miss Read. Her pa 
 rents 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, arid I had been sometimes 
 serviceable to them. I was touched with the unhappy situa* 
 tion of their daughter, who was almost always melancholy, 
 and continually seeking soiitude. I regarded my forget* 
 fulness and inconstancy, during my abode in London, as 
 the principal cause of her misfortune, though her mother 
 had the candour to attribute the fault to herself, rather 
 than to me, because, after having prevented our marriage 
 previously to my departure, she had induced her to marry 
 another in my absence. 
 
 Our mutual affection revived ; but there existed great 
 obstacles to our union. Her marriage was considered, 
 indeed, as not being valid, the man having, it was said, a 
 former wife still living in England ; but of this it was diffi^ 
 
 G 2 
 
84 LIFE OF DR. FRANK LIN. 
 
 cult to obtain a proof at so great ^distance ; and though a 
 report prevailed of his being 1 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. \Ve 
 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 contri 
 buted essentially to the success of my shop. We pros 
 pered together, and it was our mutual study to render each 
 other happy. Thus I corrected, as well as I could, this 
 great error of my youth. 
 
 Our club was not at that time established at a tavern. 
 We held our meetings at the house of Mr. Grace, who 
 appropriated a room to the purpose. Some* member ob 
 served one day, that as our books were frequently quoted 
 in the course of our discussions, it would be convenient to 
 have them collected in the room in which we assembled, in 
 order to be consulted upon occasion ; and that, by thus 
 forming a common library of our individual collections, each 
 would have the advantage of using the books of all the 
 other members, which would nearly be the same as if he 
 possessed them all himself. The idea was approved, and 
 we accordingly brought such books as we thought we could 
 spare, which were placed at the end of the club-room. 
 They amounted not to so many as we expected ; and though 
 we made considerable use of them, yet some inconveniences 
 resulting, from want of care, it was agreed, after about a 
 year, to discontinue the collection ; and each took away 
 such books as belonged to him. 
 
 It was now that I first started the idea of establishing, 
 by subscription, a public library. I drew up the proposals, 
 had them ingrossed in form by Brockden the attorney, and 
 my project succeeded, as will be seen in the sequel. * * 
 #######*#*#*####* 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 85 
 
 [Thus far Dr. Franklin, in jiis usual style of ingenuous 
 simplicity and philosophical discernment, has communicated 
 to the world a memoir of himself, It is, however, well 
 known both in this country and America, that amongst his 
 papers was found a continuation of it to a much later period 
 of his life ; but this, with many other invaluable, moral, 
 political, and philosophical writings, the legatee has thought 
 proper to suppress. In order, therefore, to gratify the 
 laudable curiosity of the public, the following continuation 
 has been subjoined, written by the late Dr. Stuber of Phil 
 adelphia ; who for a series of years, was honoured with the 
 friendship and unlimited confidence of Dr. FranklinJ 
 EDITOR. 
 
6(3 LIFE OF Dll. FRANKLIN. 
 
 romotion of literature had been little attended to in 
 Pennsylvania. Most of the inhabitants were too much 
 immersed in business to think of scientific pursuits,and those 
 lew, whose inclinations led them to study, found it difficult to 
 gratify them from the want of libraries sufficiently large. In 
 such circunistances,the establishment of a public library was 
 an important event. This was first set on foot by Franklin, 
 about the year 1781. Fifty persons subscribed 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." Se 
 veral 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 considera 
 ble accession of books and property. It now contains about 
 eight thousand volumes on all subjects, a philosophical ap 
 paratus, and a well-chosen collection of natural and artifi 
 cial curiosities. For its support the company now possesses 
 landed property of considerable value. They have lately 
 built an elegant house in Fifth-street, in the front of which 
 will be erected a marble statue of their founder, Benjamin 
 Franklin. 
 
 This institution was greatly encouraged by the friends of 
 literature in America and in Great Britain. The Penn 
 family distinguished themselves by their donations. 
 Amongst the earliest friends of this institution must be 
 mentioned the late Peter Collinson, the friend and corres 
 pondent of Dr. Franklin. He not only made considera 
 ble presents himself, and obtained others from his friends, 
 but voluntarily undertook to manage the business of the 
 Company in London, recommending books, purchasing and 
 shipping them. His extensive knowledge, and zeal for the 
 promotion of science, enabled him to execute this important 
 trust with the greatest advantage. He continued to per 
 form these services for more than thirty years, and uni- 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 87 
 
 formly refused to accept of any compensation. During 
 this time, he communicated to the directors every informa 
 tion relative to improvements and discoveries in the arts, 
 agriculture, and philosophy. 
 
 The beneficial influence of this institution was soon evi 
 dent. The terms of subscription to it were so moderate 
 that it was accessible to every one. Its advantages were 
 not confined to the opulent. The citizens in the middle 
 and lower walks of life were equally partakers of them. 
 Hence a degree of information was extended amongst all 
 classes of people. The example was soon followed. Li 
 braries were established in various places, and they are now 
 become very numerous in the United States, and particu 
 larly in Pennsylvania. It is to be hoped that they will be 
 still more widely extended, and that information will be 
 every where increased. This will be the best security for 
 maintaining our liberties. A nation of well-informed men, 
 who have been taught to know and prize the rights which. 
 God has given them, cannot be enslaved. It is in the re 
 gions of ignorance that tyranny reigns. It flies before the 
 light of science. Let the citizens of America, then, encou 
 rage institutions calculated to diffuse knowledge amongst 
 the people ; and amongst these, public libraries are not the 
 least important. 
 
 In 1732, Franklin began to publish Poor Richard s Al 
 manack. This ,vas remarkable for the numerous and valu 
 able concise maxims which it contained, all tending to ex 
 hort to industry and frugality. It was continued for many 
 years. In the almanack for the last year, all the maxims 
 were collected in an address to the reader, entitled, The 
 Way to Wealth. This has been translated into various 
 languages, and inserted in different publications. It has 
 also been printed on a large sheet, and may be seen framed 
 in many houses in this city. This address contains, perhaps, 
 the best practical system of economy that ever has appeared. 
 
88 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 It is written in a manner intelligent to every one, and 
 which cannot fail of convincing- every reader of the justice 
 and propriety of the remarks and advice which it contains. 
 The demand for this almanack was so great, that ten thou 
 sand have been sold in one year ; which must be consider 
 ed as a very large number, especially when we reflect, that 
 this country was, at that time, but thinly peopled. It 
 cannot be doubted that the salutary maxims contained in 
 these almanacks must have made a favourable impression 
 upcQ many of the readers of them. 
 
 It was not long- before Frankliti entered upon his poli 
 tical 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, the printer, mentioned above, was possessed 
 of some advantages over Franklin, by being post-master, 
 thereby having an opportunity of circulating his paper 
 more extensively, and thus rendering it a better vehicle 
 for advertisements, &c. Franklin, in his turn, enjoyed 
 these advantages, by being appointed post-master of Phila 
 delphia in 1737. Bradford, while in ofiice, had acted un 
 generously towards Franklin, preventing as much as pos 
 sible the circulation of his paper. He had now an oppor 
 tunity of retaliating ; but his nobleness of soul prevented 
 Lim from making use of it. > 
 
 , The police of Philadelphia had early appointed watch 
 men, whose duty it was to guard the citizens against the 
 midnight robber, and to give an immediate alarm in case of 
 lire, This duty is, perhaps, one of the most important that 
 can be committed to any set of men,, The regulations, how 
 ever, were riot sufficiently strict, JFranklin saw the dan 
 gers arising from this cause, and suggested an alteration, 
 so as to oblige the guardians of the night to be more watch* 
 ful over the lives and property of the citizens. The pro , 
 
LIFE OP DR. FRANKLIN. 89 
 
 priety of this was immediately perceived, and a reform was 
 effected. 
 
 There is nothing" more dangerous to growing cities than 
 fires. Other causes operate slowly, and almost impercep 
 tibly; 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. Frank 
 lin early saw the necessity of these ; and, about the year 
 1738, formed the first fire company in this city. The ex 
 ample was soon followed by others ; and there are now nu 
 merous fire companies in the city and liberties. To these 
 may be attributed in a great degree the activity in extin 
 guishing fires, for which the citizens of Philadelphia are 
 distinguished, and the inconsiderable damage this city has 
 sustained from this cause. Some time after, Franklin sug 
 gested the plan for an association for insuring houses from 
 losses by fire, which was adopted ; and the association con 
 tinues to this day. The advantages experienced -from it 
 have been great. 
 
 From the first settlement of Pennsylvania, a spirit of 
 dispute appears to have prevailed among its inhabitants. 
 During the life-time of William Penn, the constitution had 
 been three times altered. After this period the history of 
 Pennsylvania is little else than a recital of the quarrels be 
 tween the proprietaries, or their governors, and the assem 
 bly. The proprietaries contended for the right of exempt 
 ing their land from taxes ; to which the assembly would hy 
 no means consent. This subject of dispute interfered in 
 almost every question, and prevented the most salutary 
 laws from being enacted. This at times subjected the 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 inhabitants of 
 tiie province, who were unprovided for such an attack. It 
 became accessary tkat the citizens should arm for their de- 
 
90 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 fence. Governor Thomas recommended to the assembly, 
 who were then sitting, to pass a militia law. To this they 
 would agree only upon conditions, that he should give his 
 assent to certain laws, which appeared to them calculated 
 to promote the interests of the people. As he thought 
 these laws would be injurious to the proprietaries, he re 
 fused his assent to them ; and the assembly broke up with 
 out passing a militia bill. The situation of the province 
 was at this time truly alarming ; exposed to the continual 
 inroad of an enemy, and destitute of every means of de 
 fence. At this crisis Franklin stepped forth, and propos 
 ed 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 per 
 sons immediately. Copies were circulated without delay 
 through the province ; and in a short time the number of 
 signatures amounted to ten thousand. Franklin was cho 
 sen colonel of the Philadelphia regiment ; but he did not 
 think proper to accept of the honour. 
 
 Pursuits of a different nature now occupied the greatest 
 part of his attention for some years. He engaged in a 
 course of electrical experiments, with all the ardor and 
 thirst for discovery which characterized a the philosophers 
 of that day. Of all the branches of experimental philoso 
 phy, electricity had been least explored. The attractive 
 power of amber is mentioned by Theophrastus and Pliny, 
 and from them, by later naturalists. In the year 1600, 
 Gilbert, an English physician, enlarged considerably the 
 catalogue of substances which have the property of attract 
 ing 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. Gue 
 ricke first observed the repulsive power of electricity, and 
 the light and noise produced by it. In 1709, Hawkesbec 
 communicated some important observations and expert 
 
LIFE OF DIl. FRANKLIN. 91 
 
 to the world. For several years electricity was en 
 tirely neglected, until Mr. Grey applied himself to it, in 
 1728, with great assiduity. He and his friend Mi\ 
 Wheeler, made a great variety of experiments, in which 
 they demonstrated, that electricity may be communicated 
 from one body to another, even without being in contact, 
 and in this way be conducted to a great distance. Mr. 
 Grey afterwards found, that, by suspending rods of iron by 
 silk or hair lines, and bringing an excited tube under them, 
 sparks might be drawn, and a light perceived at the ex 
 tremities in the dark. M. du Faye, intendant of the French 
 king s gardens, made a number of experiments, which 
 added not a little to the science. He made the discovery 
 of two kinds of electricity, which he calied vitreous and 
 resinous / the former produced by rubbing glass, the lat 
 ter from excited sulphur, sealing-wax, &c. But this he 
 afterwards gave up as erroneous. Between the years 
 1739 and 1742, Desaguliers made a number of experi 
 ments, but added little of importance. He first used the 
 terms conductors and electrics per se. In 1742, several 
 ingenious Germans engaged in this subject, of these the 
 principal were, professor Boze of Wittemberg, professor 
 Winkler of Leipsic, Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine monk, 
 professor of philosophy at Erfurt, and Dr. Ludolf of Ber 
 lin. The result of their researches astonished the philo 
 sophers of Europe. Their apparatus was large, and by 
 means of it they were enabled to coilect large quantities of 
 the electric fluid, and thus to produce phenomena which 
 had been hitherto unobserved. They killed small birds, 
 and set spirits on fire. Their experiments excited the cu 
 riosity of other philosophers. Collinson, about the year 
 1745, sent to the Library Company of Philadelphia, an 
 account of these experiments, together with a tube, and 
 directions how to use it. Franklin, with some of his friends, 
 immediately engaged in a course of experiments, the result 
 
92 LIFE OF DR. 
 
 of which is well known. He was enabled to make a num-" 
 ber of important discoveries, and to propose theories to 
 account for various phenomena, which have been univer 
 sally adopted, and which bid fair to endure for ages. Hi* 
 observations he communicated in a series of letters, to his 
 friend Collinson, the first of which is dated March 28, 1747. 
 In these he shews the power of points in drawing and 
 throwing off the electrical matter, which had hitherto es 
 caped the notice of electricians. He also matte thie grand 
 discovery of a plus and minus, or of a positive and nega 
 tive state of electricity. We give him the honour of this, 
 without hesitation ; although the English have claimed it 
 for their countryman, Dr. Watson. Watson s paper is 
 dated January 21, 1748; Franklin s July 11, 1747: seve 
 ral months prior. Shortly after, Franklin, from his princi 
 ples of the plus and minus state, explained, in a satisfac 
 tory manner, the phenomena of the Leyden phial, first ob 
 served by Mr. Cuneus, or by professor Muschenbroeck, 
 of Leyden, which had much perplexed philosophers. He 
 shewed clearly, that when charged, the bottle contained no 
 more electricity than before, but that as much was taken 
 from one side as was thrown on the other: and that, to 
 discharge it, nothing was necessary but to produce a com 
 munication 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 coating as 
 had been supposed, but in the pores of the glass itself. 
 After a phial was charged, he removed the coating, and 
 found that upon applying a new coating, the shock might 
 still be received. In the year 1749, he first suggested his 
 idea of explaining the phenomena of thunder-gusts, and of 
 the aurora borealis, upon electrical principles. He points 
 out [many particulars in which lightning and electricity 
 agree; and he adduces many facts, and reasonings from 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 93 
 
 facts, in support of his positions. In the same year he 
 conceived the astonishingly bold and grand idea of as 
 certaining the truth of his doctrine, by actually drawing 
 down the lightning", by means of sharp-pointed iron rods, 
 raised into the region of the clouds. Even in this uncer 
 tain state, his passion to be useful to mankind, displayed 
 itself >in a powerful manner. Admitting the identity of 
 electricity and lightning, and knowing the power of points 
 in repelling bodies charged with electricity, and in con 
 ducting their fire silently and imperceptibly, he suggested 
 the idea of securing houses, ships, &c. from being damag 
 ed by lightning, by erecting pointed rods, that should rise 
 some feet above the most elevated part, and descend some 
 feet into the ground or the water. The effect of these, he 
 concluded, would be either to prevent a stroke by repelling 1 
 the cloud beyond the striking distance, or by drawing oft 
 the electrical fire which it contained ; or, if they could not 
 effect this, they would at least conduct the electric matter 
 to the earth, without any injury to the building. 
 
 It was not until the summer of 1752, that he was ena 
 bled to complete his grand and unparalleled discovery by 
 experiment. The plan which he had originally proposed, 
 was, to erect on some high tower, or other elevated place, 
 a centry-box, from which should rise a pointed iron rod, 
 insulated by being fixed in a cake of resin. Electrified 
 clouds passing over this, would, he conceived, impart to 
 it a portion of their electricity, which would be rendered 
 evident to the senses by sparks being emitted, when a key, 
 the knuckle, or other conductor was presented to it. Phi 
 ladelphia at this time afforded no opportunity of trying an 
 experiment of this kind. While Franklin was waiting for 
 the erection of a spire, it occurred to him that he might 
 have more ready access to the region of clouds by means 
 of a common kite. He prepared one by fastening two 
 cross sticks to a silk handkerchief, which would not suffer 
 
94 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 so much from the rain as paper. To the upright stick was 
 affixed an iron point. The string was, as usual, of hemp, 
 except the lower end, which was silk. Where the hempen 
 string terminated, a key was fastened. With this appa 
 ratus, on the appearance of a thunder-gust approaching, be 
 went out into the commons, accompanied by his son, to 
 whom alone he communicated his intentions, well knowing 
 the ridicule ^hich, too generally for the interest of science, 
 awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. He placed 
 himself under a shade, to avoid the rain his kite was 
 raised a thunder- cloud passed over it no sign of elec 
 tricity 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 suc 
 ceeded, his name would rank high among those who had 
 improved science ; if he failed, he must inevitably be sub 
 jected to the derision of mankind, or, what is -worse, their 
 pity, as a well-meaning man, but a weak, silly projector. 
 The anxiety with which he looked for the result of his ex 
 periment, may be easily conceived. Doubts and despair 
 had begun to prevail, when the fact was ascertained in so 
 clear a manner, that even the most incredulous could no 
 longer withhold their assent. Repeated sparks were 
 drawn from the key, a phial was charged, a shock given, 
 and all the experiments made which are usually performed 
 with electricity. 
 
 About a month before this period, some ingenious 
 Frenchman had completed the discovery in the mannei 
 originally proposed by Dr. Franklin. The letters which 
 he sent to Mr. Collinson, it is said, were refused a place 
 in the Transactions of the Royal Society of London, 
 However this raay be, Gollinson published them in a se 
 
LIFE OF DB, FRANKLIN. 9* 
 
 parate volume, under the title of " New Experiments and 
 Observations on Electricity, my.de at Philadelphia, in Ame 
 rica." They were read with avidity, and soon translated 
 into different languages. A very incorrect French trans 
 lation fell into the hands of the celebrated Button, who, 
 notwithstanding- the disadvantages under which the work 
 laboured, was much pleased with it, and repeated the ex 
 periments with success. He prevailed on his friend, M. 
 D Alibard, to give his countrymen a more correct transla* 
 tion of the works of the American electrician. This con 
 tributed much towards spreading a knowledge of Frank 
 lin s principles in France. The king, Louis XV., hear 
 ing 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 Ayen, at St. Germain, by M. de Lor. 
 The applauses which the king bestowed upon Franklin, 
 excited in Buffon, D Alibard, and De Lor, an earnest de 
 sire of ascertaining the truth of his theory of thunder-gusts. 
 Buffon erected his apparatus on the tower of Montbar, JVT. 
 D Alibard at Mary-la- ville, and De Lor at Iris house in the 
 Estrapade at Paris, some of the highest ground in that 
 capita!. D Alibard s machine first shewed signs of elec 
 tricity. On the 10th of May, 1752, a thunder cloud pas 
 sed over it, in the absence of M. D Alibard, and a number 
 of sparks were drawn from it by Coiffier, joiner, with whom 
 D Alibard had left directions how to proceed, and by M. 
 liaulet, the prior of Mary-la-ville. An account of this 
 experiment was given to the Royal Academy of Sciences, 
 by M. D Alibard, in a Memoir dated May 13th, 1752. On 
 the 18th of May, M. de Lor proved equally successful 
 with the apparatus erected at his own house. .These phi 
 losophers soon excited those of other parts of Europe to 
 repeat -the experiment ; amongst whom, none signalised 
 themselves more than Father Beccana, of Turin, to whose 
 observations science is much indebted. Even the 
 
SH5 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 regions of Russia were penetrated by the ardor for dis 
 covery. Professor Richman bade fair to add much to the 
 stock of knowledge on this subject, when an unfortunate 
 flash from his conductor, put a period to his. existence. 
 The friends of science will long remember with regret, the 
 amiable martyr to electricity. 
 
 By these experiments Franklin s theory was established 
 in the most convincing manner. When the truth of it 
 could no longer be doubted, envy and vanity endeavoured 
 to detract from its merit. That an American, an inhabi 
 tant 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 en 
 lightened philosophers of Europe, was too mortifying to 
 be admitted. He must certainly have taken the idea from 
 some one else. An American, a being of an inferior or 
 der, make discoveries! Impossible. It was said, that 
 the Abbe Nollet, 1748, had suggested the idea of the si 
 milarity of lightning and electricity in his Lccons de Phy 
 sique. 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 acknowledges, 
 that Franklin first entertained the bold thought of bringing 
 lightning from the heavens, by means of pointed rods fixed 
 in the air. The similarity of lightning and electricity is so 
 strong, that we need not be surprised at notice being 
 taken of it, as soon as elfectrical phenomena became fa 
 miliar. We find it mentioned by Dr. Wall and Mr. Grey, 
 Awhile the science was in its infancy. But the honour of 
 forming a regular theory of thunder-gusts, of suggesting a 
 mode of determining the truth of it by experiments., ano? of 
 putting these experiments in practice, and thus establish 
 ing the theory upon a firm and solid basis, is incontestibly 
 due to Franklin. D Alibard, who made the first experi 
 ments in France, says, that he only followed the tract 
 which Fraukliu had pointed out. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 97 
 
 It has been of late asserted, that the honour of com 
 pleting the experiment with the electrical kite, does 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 presi-deal of Nerac ; the English 
 paragraphs probably refer to the same person. But a very 
 slight attention will convince us of the injustice of this 
 procedure : Dr. Franklin s experiment was made in June 
 1752 ; and his letter, giving an account of it, is dated Oc 
 tober 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 Dumber of facts and hints, which have 
 contributed greatly towards reducing thia branch of know 
 ledge to a science. His friend Mr. Kinnersley communi 
 cated to him a discovery of the different kinds of electri 
 city, excited by rubbing glass and sulphur. This, we 
 have said, was first obsened by M. Du Faye; but it was 
 for many years neglected. The philosophers were dis 
 posed to account for the phenomena, rather from a dif 
 ference in the quantity of electricity collected, and even 
 Du Faye himself seems at last to have adopted this doc 
 trine. 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 posi 
 tive and negative states which he had before observed ; 
 and that the glass globe charged positively or increased 
 the quantity of electricity on the prime conductor, while 
 the globe of sulphur diminished its natural quantity, or 
 charged nc gat tidy. These experiments and observation* 
 
98 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 opened a new field for investigation, upon which electri 
 cians entered with avidity ; and their labours have added 
 much to the stock of our knowledge. 
 
 In September, 1752, Franklin entered upon a course of 
 experiments, to determine the state of electricity in the 
 clouds. From a number of experiments he formed this 
 conclusion : " That the clouds of a thunder-gust are most 
 commonly in a negative state of electricity, but sometimes 
 in a positive state ;" and from this it follows, as a necessary 
 consequence, " that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes, 
 it is the earth that strikes into the clouds, and not th 
 clouds that strike into the earth." The letter containing 
 these observations is dated in September, 1753 ; and yet 
 the discovery of ascending thunder has been said to be of 
 a modern date, and has been attributed to the Abbe Ber- 
 tholon, who published his memoir on the subject in 1776. 
 
 Franklin s letters have been translated into most of the 
 European languages, and into Latin. In proportion as 
 they have become known, his principles have been adopted. 
 Some opposition was made to his theories, particularly by 
 the Abbe Nollet, who was, however, but feebly supported, 
 while the first philosophers in Europe stepped forth in de 
 fence of Franklin s principles, amongst whom D Alibard 
 and Beccaria were the most distinguished. The opposi 
 tion has gradually ceased, and the Franklinian system is 
 now universally adopted, where science flourishes. **** 
 
 The important practical use which Franklin made of his 
 discoveries, the securing of houses from injury by lightning, 
 has been already mentioned. Pointed conductors are now 
 very common in America; but prejudice has hitherto 
 prevented their general introduction into Europe, not 
 withstanding the most undoubted proofs of their utility 
 have been given. But mankind can with difficulty bo 
 .brought to lay aside established practices, or to adopt new 
 ones. . And perhaps we have more reason to be surprised, 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 99 
 
 that a practice however rational, which was proposed 
 about forty years ago, should in that time have been adopted 
 in so many places, than that it has not universally prevailed. 
 Jl is only by degrees that the great body of mankind can 
 be led into new practices, however salutary their tendency. 
 It is now nearly eighty years since inoculation was intro 
 duced into Europe and America; and it is so far from 
 being general at present, that it will require one or two 
 centuries to render it so. 
 
 In the year 1746, Franklin published an account of his 
 new-invented Pennsylvania fire-places, in which he mi 
 nutely and accurately states the advantages of different 
 kinds of fire-places ; and endeavours to show that the one 
 which he describes is to be preferred to any other. This 
 contrivance has given rise to the open stoves now in ge 
 neral use, which, however, differ from it in construction* 
 particularly in not having an air-box at the back, through 
 which a constant supply of air, warmed in its passage, is 
 thrown into the room. The advantages of this are, that as 
 a stream of warm air is continually flowing into the room, 
 kss fuel is necessary to preserve a proper temperature, 
 and the room may be so tightened as that no air may enter 
 through cracks the consequence of which are colds, tooth 
 aches, &c. 
 
 Although philosophy was a principal object of Franklin s 
 pursuit for several years, he confined himself not to this. 
 Jn the year 1747, he became a member of the general as 
 sembly of Pennsylvania, as a burgess for the city of Phila 
 delphia. Warm disputes subsisted at this time between 
 the assembly and the proprietaries; each contending for 
 what they conceived to be their just rights. Franklin, a 
 friend to the rights of man from his infancy, soon distin 
 guished himself as a steady opponent of the unjust schemes- 
 of the proprietaries. He was soon looked up to as the 
 of the opposition; and to him have been attributed 
 II 2 
 
[00 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 
 
 many of the spirited replies of the assembly, to the messages 
 of the governors. His influence in the body was very great. 
 This arose not from any superior powers of eloquence ; he 
 spoke but seldom, and he never was known to make any 
 thing like an elaborate harangue. His speeches often 
 consisted of a single sentence, or of a well-told story, the 
 moral of which was always obviously to the point. He 
 never attempted the flowery fields of oratory. His manner 
 was plain and mild. His style in speaking was, like that of 
 his writings, simple, unadorned, and remarkably concise. 
 With this plain manner, and his penetrating and solid 
 judgment, he was able to confound the most eloquent and 
 subtle of his adversaries, to confirm the opinions of his 
 friends, and to make converts of the unprejudiced who had 
 opposed him. With a. single observation, He has rendered 
 of no avail an elegant and lengthy discourse, and deter 
 mined the fate of a question of importance. 
 
 But he was not contented with thus supporting the rights 
 of the people. He wished to render them permanently 
 secure, which can only be done by making their value pro 
 perly known ; and this must depend upon increasing and 
 extending information to every class of men. We have 
 already seen that he was the founder of the public library, 
 which contributed greatly towards improving the minds of 
 the citizens. But this was not sufficient. The schools 
 then subsisting were in general of little utility. The teach 
 ers were men ill qualified" for the important duty which they 
 had undertaken; and, after all, nothing more could be ob 
 tained than the rudiments of a common English education. 
 Franklin drew up a plan of an academy, to be erected in 
 the city of Philadelphia, suited to "the state of an infant 
 country ;" but in this, as in all his plans, he confined not his 
 Views to the present time only. He looked forward to the 
 period when an institution on an enlarged plan would be 
 came necessary. With this view, he considered his aca- 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 101 
 
 dr my as " a foundation for posterity to erect a seminary 
 unlearning more extensive, and suitable to future circum 
 stances." In pursuance of this plan, the constitutions were 
 drawn up and signed on the 1 3th of November, 1749. In 
 these, twenty-four of the most respectable citizens of Phi 
 ladelphia were named as trustees. In the choice of these, 
 and in the formation of his plan, Franklin is said to have 
 consulted chiefly with Thomas Hopkinson, Esq. the Rev. 
 Richard Peters, then secretary of the province, Tench 
 Francis, Esq. attorney-general, and Dr. Phineas Bond. 
 
 The following article shews a spirit of benevolence wor 
 thy of imitation; and, for the honour of. our city, we hop* 
 that it continues to be in force. 
 
 " In case of the disability of the rector, or any master 
 (established on the foundation by receiving a certain salary) 
 through sickness, or any other natural infirmity, whereby 
 he may be reduced to poverty, the trustees shall have 
 power to contribute to his support, in proportion to his 
 distress and merit, and the stock in their hands." 
 
 The last clause of the fundamental rules is expressed in 
 language so tender and benevolent, so truly parental, that 
 it will do everlasting honour to the hearts and heads of the 
 founders. . 
 
 " It is hoped and expected that the trustees will make 
 it their pleasure, and in some degree their business, to visit 
 the academy often; to encourage and countenance the 
 youth, to countenance and assist the masters, and, by all 
 means in their power, advance the usefulness and reputa 
 tion of the design ; that they will look on the students as, 
 m some measure, their own children, treat them with fami 
 liarity and affection; and when they have behaved well, gone 
 through their studies, and are to enter the world, they shall 
 zealously unite, and make all the interest that can be made 
 to promote and establish them, whether in business, offices, 
 marriages, or any other thing for their advantage, in prefer- 
 
102 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLItf. 
 
 ence to all other persons whatsoever, even of equal 
 merit." 
 
 The constitutions being signed and made public, with the 
 names of the gentlemen proposing themselves as trustees 
 and founders, the design was so well approved of by the 
 public-spirited citizens of Philadelphia, that the sum of 
 eight hundred pounds per annum, for five years, was in the 
 course of a few weeks subscribed for carrying it into exe 
 cution ; and in the beginning of January following (viz. 
 1750) three of the schools were opened, namely, the Latin 
 and Greek schools, the Mathematical school, and the Eng 
 lish school. In pursuance of an article in the original plan, 
 a school for educating sixty boys and thirty girls (in the char 
 ter since called the Charitable School) wis opened; and 
 amidst all the difficulties with which the trustees have strug 
 gled 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 re 
 ceived in it the chief part of their education, who might 
 otherwise, in a great measure, have been left without the 
 means of instruction. And many of those who have been 
 thus educated, are now to be found among the most useful 
 and reputable citizens of this state. 
 
 The institution, thus successfully begun, continued daily 
 to flourish, to the great satisfaction of Dr. Franklin ; who, 
 notwithstanding the multiplicity of his other engagements 
 and pursuits, at that busy stage of his life, was a constant 
 attendant at the monthly visitations and examinations of 
 the schools, and made it his peculiar study, by means of his 
 extensive correspondence abroad, to advance the reputa 
 tion of the seminary, and to draw students and scholars to 
 it from different parts of America and the West Indies. 
 Through the interposition of his benevolent and learned 
 friend, Peter Collinson, of London, upon the application 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 103 
 
 ef the trustees, a charter of incorporation, dated July 13> 
 1763, was obtained from the honourable proprietors of 
 Pennsylvania, Thomas Penn and Richard Penn, Esqrs. 
 accompanied with a liberal benefaction of five hundred 
 pounds sterling-; and Dr. Franklin now began in good 
 earnest to please himself with the hopes of a speedy accom 
 plishment of his original design, iiz. the establishment of a 
 perfect institution, upon the plan of the European colleges 
 and universities ; for which his academy was intended as a 
 nursery or foundation. To elucidate this fact, is a matter 
 of considerable importance in respect to the memory and 
 character of Dr. Franklin as a philosopher, and as the 
 friend and patron of learning and science ; for, notwith 
 standing what is expressly declared by him in the preamble 
 to the constitutions, viz. that the academy was begun for 
 " teaching the Latin and Greek languages, with all useful 
 branches of the arts and sciences, suitable to the state of 
 an infant country, and laying a foundation for posterity to 
 erect a seminary of learning more extensive, and suitable 
 to their future circumstances ;" yet it has been suggested 
 of late, as upon Dr. Franklin s authority, that the Latin 
 and Greek, or the dead languages, are an incumbrance 
 upon a scheme of liberal education, and that the engraft 
 ing or founding a college, or more extensive seminary, 
 upon his academy, was without his approbation or agency, 
 and gave him discontent. If the reverse of this does not 
 already appear from what has been quoted above, the fol 
 lowing letters will put the matter beyond dispute. They 
 were written by him to a gentleman, who had at that time 
 published the idea of a college, suited to the circumstances 
 of a young country (meaning New York) a copy of which 
 having been sent to Dr. Franklin for his opinion, gave rise 
 to that correspondence which terminated about a year af 
 terwards, in erecting the college upon the foundation of the 
 academy, and establishing that gentleman at the head of 
 
104 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 both, where he still continues, after a period of thirty-six 
 years, to preside with distinguished reputation. 
 
 From these letters also, the state of the academy, at that 
 time, will be seen. 
 
 " Philad. April I9th, 175& 
 " SIR, 
 
 " I received your favour of the llth instant, with your 
 new * piece on Education, which I shall carefully peruse, 
 and give you my sentiments of it, as you desire, by next 
 post. 
 
 " I believe the young gentlemen, your pupils, may be 
 entertained and instructed here, in mathematics and phi 
 losophy, to satisfaction. Mr. Alison (who was educated at 
 Glasgow) has been long accustomed to teach the latter, 
 and Mr. Grew the former ; and I think their pupils make 
 great progress. Mr. Alison has the care of the Latin and 
 Greek schools, but as he has now three good assistants, 
 he can very well afford some hours every day for the in 
 struction of those who are engaged in higher studies. The 
 mathematical school is pretty well furnished with instru 
 ments. The English library is a good one ; and we have 
 belonging* to it a middling apparatus for experimental phi 
 losophy, and propos.e speedily to complete it. The Logan- 
 ian library, one of the best collections in America, will 
 shortly be opened ; so that neither books nor instruments 
 will be wanting; and as we are determined always to give 
 good salaries, we have reason to believe we may have al 
 ways an opportunity of choosing good masters ; upon which 
 indeed the success of the whole depends. We are obliged 
 to you for your kind offers in this respect, and when you 
 
 * A general idea of the college of Miranda. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 103 
 
 r 
 
 are settled in England, we may occasionally make use of 
 your i riendship and judgment. 
 
 " If it suits your conveniency to visit Philadelphia before 
 \ou return to Europe, I shall be extremely glad to see and 
 converse with you here, as well as to correspond with you 
 after your settlement in England ; for an acquaintance and 
 communication with men of learning, virtue, and public 
 spirit, is one of my greatest enjoyments. 
 
 " I do not know whether you ever happened to see the 
 first proposals I made for erecting this academy. I send 
 them inclosed. They had (however imperfect) the desired 
 success, being followed by a subscription of four thousand 
 pounds, towards carrying them into execution. And as we 
 are fond of receiving advice, and are daily improving by 
 experience, I am in hopes we shall, in a few years, see a 
 perfect institution* 
 
 " I am, very respectfully, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Mr. W. Smith, Long Island," 
 
 " Philad. 3% 3d, 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 
 
 * The name given to the principal or head of the ideal col 
 lege, the system of education in which hath nevertheless been 
 nearly realized, or followed as a model, in the college and 
 academy of Philadelphia, and some other American semina 
 ries, for many years past. 
 
106 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 carry it into execution ; but such may be had if proper ert- 
 couragement be given. We have both received great 
 pleasure in the perusal of it. For my part, I know not 
 when I have read a piece that has more affected me so 
 noble and just are the sentiments, so warm and animated 
 the language ; yet as censure from your friends may be of 
 more use, as well as more agreeable to you than praise, 1 
 ought to mention, that I wish you had omitted not only the 
 quotation from the Review, which you are now justly dissa 
 tisfied 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 compliments to you, and to as 
 sure you that you will be very welcome to him. I shall 
 only say, that you may depend on my doing all in my 
 power to make your visit to Philadelphia agreeable to you, 
 . I am, &c. 
 
 Mr. Smith. B. FRANKLIN." 
 
 " Philad. Nov. 27th, 1753. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " Having written you fully, via Bristol, I have now little 
 to add. Matters relating to the academy remain in statu 
 quo. The trustees would be glad to see a rector 
 established there, but they dread entering into new en 
 gagements till they are got out of debt ; and I have not 
 yet got them wholly over to my opinion, that a good pro- 
 lessor, or teacher of the higher branches of learning, would 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 107 
 
 tfraw 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 in 
 stitution, it must, 1 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 1 promised my 
 self in seeing you settled among us, vanishes into smoke. 
 
 " But good Mr. Collinson writes me word, that no en 
 deavours of his shall be wanting; and he hopes, with the 
 archbishop s assistance, to be able to prevail with our pro 
 prietors.* I pray God grant them success. 
 
 " My son presents his affectionate regards, with, dear 
 Sir, 
 
 " Your s, &c. 
 
 " B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 " P. S. I have not been favoured with a line from you 
 since your arrival in England." 
 
 " Philad. April ISth, 1754. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " I have had but one letter from you since your arrival 
 in England, which was but a short one, via Boston, dated 
 October 18, acquainting me that you had written largely 
 by Captain Davis. Davis was lost, and with him your 
 letters, to my great disappointment. Mesnard and Gibbon 
 have since arrived here, and I hear nothing from you. My 
 
 * Upon the application of Archbishop Herring and P. 
 Collinson, Esq. at Dr. Franklin s request, (aided by the let 
 ters of Mr. Allen and Mr. Peters,) the Hon. Thomas Penn, 
 Esq. subscribed an annual sum, and afterwards gave at least 
 soool. to the founding or engrafting the college upon the 
 academy. 
 
108 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN! 
 
 comfort is, an imagination that you only omit writing be 
 cause you are corning, and propose to tell me every thing 
 xrce voce. So not knowing whether this letter will reach 
 you, and hoping either to see or hear from you by the Myr- 
 tilla, Captain Budden s ship, which is daily expected, I 
 only add, that I am, with great esteem and aifection, - 
 
 " Tour s, &c. 
 Mr. Smith. B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 About a month after the date of this last letter, the gen 
 tleman to whom it was addressed arrived in Philadelphia, 
 and was immediately placed at the head of the seminary ; 
 .whereby Dr. Franklin and the other trustees were enabled 
 to prosecute their plan, for perfecting the institution, and 
 opening the college upon the large and liberal foundation 
 on which it now stands ; for which purpose they obtained 
 their additional charter, dated May 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 Eng 
 land, in the public service of his country ; and having been 
 generally employed abroad, in the like service, for the 
 greatest part of the remainder of his life, (as will appear in 
 our subsequent account of the same) he had but few op 
 portunities of taking any further active part in the affairs 
 of the seminary, until his final return in the year 1785, 
 when he found its charters violated, and his ancient col 
 leagues, the original founders, deprived of their trust, by 
 an act of the legislature ; and although his own name had 
 been inserted amongst the new trustees, yet he declined to 
 take his seat among them, or any concern in the manage 
 ment of their affairs, till the institution was restored by law 
 to its original owners. He then assembled his old col 
 leagues at his own house, and being chosen their president, 
 all their future meetings were, at his request, held there, 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 109 
 
 till within a few months of his death, when with reluctance 
 and at their desire, lest he might be too much injured by 
 his attention to their business, he suffered them to meet at 
 the college. 
 
 Franklin not only gave birth to many useful institutions 
 himself, but he was also instrumental in promoting those 
 which had originated with other men. About the year 
 1752, an eminent physician of this city, Dr. Bond, consi 
 dering the deplorable state of the poor; when visited with 
 disease, conceived the idea of establishing an hospital. 
 Notwithstanding very great exertions on his part, he was 
 able to interest few people so far in his benevolent plan, as 
 to obtain subscriptions from them. Unwilling that bis 
 scheme should prove abortive, he sought the aid of Frank 
 lin, who readily engaged in the business, both by using his 
 influence with his friends, and by stating the advantageous 
 influence of the proposed institution in his paper. These 
 efforts were attended with success. Considerable sums 
 were subscribed ; but they were still short of what was ne 
 cessary. Franklin now made another exertion. He ap 
 plied to the assembly ; and, after some opposition, obtained 
 leave to bring iu 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 opposi* 
 tion, as the sum was granted upon a contingency which 
 they supposed would never take place, were silent, and the 
 bill passed. The friends of the plan now redoubled their 
 efforts, to obtain subscriptions to the amount stated in the 
 bill, and were soon successful; This was the foundation 
 of the Pennsylvanian Hospital, which, with the Bettering* 
 house, and Dispensary, bears ample testimony of the hu 
 manity of the citizens of Philadelphia. 
 
 Dr. Franklin had conducted himself so well in the office 
 of post-mastsr, and had shown himself to be so well ac- 
 
110 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 quainted with the business of that department, that it was 
 thougkt expedient to raise him to a more dignified station. 
 In 1753, he was appointed deputy post-master general for 
 the British colonies. The profits arising from the postage 
 of letters formed no inconsiderable part of the revenue, 
 which the crown of Great Britain derived from these colo 
 nies. 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 depreda 
 tions on their frontiers, by the Indians ; and more particu 
 larly whenever a war took place between France and Eng 
 land. The colonies, individually, were either too weak to 
 take efficient measures for their own defence, or they 
 were unwilling to take upon themselves the whole burden 
 of erecting forts and maintaining garrisons, whilst their 
 neighbours, who partook equally with themselves of the 
 advantages, contributed nothing to the expense. Some 
 times also the disputes, which subsisted between the go 
 vernors and assemblies, prevented the adoption of means 
 of defence ; as we have seen was the case in Pennsylvania 
 in 1745. To devise a plan of union between the colonies, 
 to regulate this arid other matters, appeared a desirable ob 
 ject. To accomplish this, in the year 1754, commissioners 
 from New Hampshire, Massaclmssets, Rhode Island, New 
 Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Maryland, met at Albany. Dr. 
 Franklin attended here, as a commissioner from Pennsyl 
 vania, and produced a plan, which, from the place of 
 meeting, has been usually termed, " The Albany plan of 
 Union." This proposed, that application should be made 
 for an act of parliament, to establish in the colonies a ge 
 neral government, to be administered by a president-gene 
 ral, appointed by the crown, and by a grand council, con 
 sisting of members chosen by the representatives of the 
 different colonies ; their number to be in direct proportion 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. Ill 
 
 to the sums paid by each colony into the general t-reasury, 
 with this restriction, that no colony should have more than 
 seven, nor less than two representatives. The whole exe 
 cutive authority was committed to the president-general. 
 The power of legislation was lodged in the grand council 
 and president-general jointly ; his consent being made ne 
 cessary to passing a bill into a law. The power vested in 
 the president and council was, to declare war and peace, 
 and to conclude treaties with the Indian nations ; to regu 
 late 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 thes 
 until they should be erected into separate governments ; 
 and to raise troops, build forts, and fit out armed vessels, 
 and to use other means for the general defence ; and, to 
 effect these things, a power was given to make laws, laying- 
 such duties, imposts, or taxes, as they should find neces 
 sary, and as would be least burdensome to the people. 
 All laws were to be sent to England for the king s appro 
 bation ; and unless disapproved of within three years, were 
 to remain in force. All officers in the land or sea service 
 were to be nominated by the president-general, and ap 
 proved of by the general council ; civil officers were to be 
 nominated by the council, and approved of by the presi 
 dent. Such are the outlines of the plan proposed, for the 
 consideration of the^congress, by Dr. Franklin. After se 
 veral days discussion, it was unanimously agreed to by 
 the commissioners, a copy transmitted to each assembly, 
 and one to the kind s council. The fate of it was singular. 
 it was disapproved of by the ministry of Great Britain, be 
 cause it gave too much power to the representatives of the 
 prople ; and it was rejected by every assembly, as giving to 
 the president-general, the representative of the crown, an 
 influence greater thaa appeared to them proper, in a plan 
 of government intended for freemen. Perhaps this rejeo 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 tion, on both sides, is the strongest proof that could be ad 
 duced of the excellence of it, as suited to the situation of 
 America and Great Britain at that time. It appears to 
 have steered exactly in the middle between the opposite 
 Interests of both. 
 
 - Whether the adoption of this plan would hare pre 
 vented the separation of America from Great Britain, is a 
 question which might afford much room for speculation. 
 It may be said, that, by enabling the colonies to defend 
 themselves, it would have removed the pretext upon which 
 the stamp-act, tea-act, and other acts of the British parlia 
 ment, were passed ; which excited a spirit of opposition, 
 and laid the foundation for the separation of the two coun 
 tries. But, on the other hand, it must be admitted, that 
 the restriction laid by Great Britain upon our commerce, 
 obliging us to sell our produce to her citizens only, and to 
 take from them various articles, of which, as our manufac 
 tures were discouraged, we stood in need, at a price 
 greater than that for which they could have been obtained 
 from other nations, must inevitably produce dissatisfaction, 
 even though no duties were imposed by the parliament ; a 
 circumstance which might still have taken place. Besides, 
 as the president-general was to be appointed by the crown, 
 he must, of necessity, be devoted to its views, and would, 
 therefore, refuse his assent to any laws, however salutary 
 to the community, which had the most remote tendency to 
 injure the interests of his sovereign. Even should they 
 receive his assent, the approbation of the king was to be 
 necessary; who would indubitably, in every instance, 
 prefer the advantage of his home dominions to lhat of his 
 colonies. Hence would ensue perpetual disagreements 
 between the council and the president-general, and thus, 
 between the people of America and the crown of Great 
 Britain. While the colonies continued weak, they would 
 be obliged to subirit, and as soon as they acquired strength 
 
OF DR. FRANKLIN. 113 
 
 they would become more urgent in tbeir demands, until, at 
 length, they would shake oif the yoke, and declare them 
 selves independent. 
 
 Whilst the French were in possession of Canada, their 
 trade with the natives extended very tar ; even to the back 
 of the British settlements. They were disposed, from time 
 to time, to establish posts within the territory, which the 
 English claimed as their own. Independent of the injury 
 to the fur trade, which was considerable, the colonies suf 
 fered this further inconvenience, that the Indians were fre 
 quently instigated to commit depredations on -their fron 
 tiers. In the year 1753, encroachments were made upon 
 the boundaries of Virginia. Remonstrances had no effect. 
 In the ensuing year, a body of men were sent out under 
 the command of Mr. Washington, who, though a very 
 young man, had, by his conduct in the preceding- year, 
 shewn himself worthy of such an important trust. Whilst 
 marching to take possession of the post at the junction of 
 the Allegany and Monongahela, he was informed that the 
 French had already erected a fort there. A detachment 
 of their men marched against him. He fortified himself as 
 strongly as time and circumstances would admit. A su 
 periority of numbers soon obliged him to surrender Fort 
 Necessity. He obtained honourable terms for himself and 
 men, and returned to Virginia. The government of Great 
 Britain now thought it necessary to interfere. In the year 
 1755, General Braddock, with some regiments of regular 
 troops, and provincial levies, was sent to dispossess the 
 French of the posts upon which they had seized. After 
 the men were all ready, a difficulty occurred, which had 
 nearly prevented the expedition. This was the want of 
 waggons. Franklin now stepped forward, and with the 
 assistance of his son, in a little time procured a hundred 
 and fifty. Braddock unfortunately fell info an ambuscade, 
 and perished, with a rrumber of his men. Washington, who 
 
 I 
 
/U LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 kad accompanied him as an aid-de-camp, and had warned 
 him, in vain, of his danger, now displayed great military 
 talents in effecting a retreat of the remains of the army r 
 and in forming a junction with the rear, under Colonel 
 Dunbar, upon whom the chief command now devolved. 
 With some difficulty they brought their little body to a 
 place of safety ; but they found it necessary to destroy 
 their waggons and baggage, to prevent them falling into 
 the hands of the enemy. For the waggons which he had 
 furnished, Franklin had given bonds to a large amount. 
 The owners declared their intention of obliging him to 
 make a restitution of their property. Had they put their 
 threats in execution, ruin must inevitably have been the 
 consequence. Governor Shirley, finding that he had in 
 curred these debts for the service of government, made ar 
 rangements to have them discharged, and relea sed Frank 
 lin from his disagreeable situation. 
 
 The alarm spread through the colonies, after the defeat 
 of Braddock, was very great. Preparations to arm were 
 every where made. In Pennsylvania, the prevalence of 
 the Quaker interest prevented the adoption of any system 
 of defence, which would compel the citizens to bear arms. 
 Franklin introduced into the assembly a bill for organizing 
 a militia, by which every man was allowed to take arms or 
 not, as to him should appear fit. The Quakers, being 
 thus left at liberty, suffered the bill to pass ; for although 
 their principles will not suffer thei to fight, they had no 
 objection to their neighbours fighting for them. In con 
 sequence 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 Philadel 
 phia, which consisted of 1200 men. , 
 
 The north-western frontier being invaded by the ene* 
 my, it became necessary to adopt measures for defence. 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 115 
 
 tranklin was directed by the governor to take charge of 
 this. A power of raising men, and ol 1 appointing ofticers 
 to command them, was vested in him. He soon levied a 
 body of troops, with which he repaired to the place at 
 which their presence was necessary. Here he built a fort, 
 and placed a garrison in such a posture of defence, as 
 would enable them to withstand the inroads, to which the 
 inhabitants had previously been exposed. He remained 
 here for some time, in order the more completely to dis 
 charge the trust committed to him. Some business of im 
 portance at length 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 lessening this 
 was, to put arms into the hands of the inhabitants, and to 
 teach them their use. But England wished not that the 
 Americans should become acquainted with their own 
 strength. She was apprehensive* that, as soon as this 
 -period arrived, they would no longer submit to that mono 
 poly of their trade, which to themAvas highly injurious, but 
 extremely advantageous to the mother-country. In com 
 parison with the profits of this, the expense"of maintaining 
 armies and fleets to defend them was trifling* She fought 
 to keep them dependent upon her for protection ; the best 
 plan which could be devised for retaining them in peace 
 able subjection. The least appearance of a military spirit 
 was therefore to be guarded against, and, although a war 
 then raged, the act for organizing a militia was disapproved 
 of by the ministry. The regiments which had been formed 
 under it were disbanded* and the defence of the province 
 entrusted to regular troops* 
 
 The disputes between the proprietaries and the people 
 continued in full force, although a war was raging on the 
 frontiers. Not even, the sense of danger was sufficient to 
 reconcile, for ever so short a time, their jarring interests. 
 
116 LIFE OF Dll. FRANKLIN, 
 
 The assembly still insisted upon the justice of taxing the 
 proprietary estates, but the governors constantly refused 
 their assent to this measure, without which no bill could 
 pass into a law. Enraged at the obstinacy, and what they 
 conceived to be unjust proceedings of their opponents, the 
 assembly at length determined to apply to the mother- 
 country for relief. A petition was addressed to the king, 
 in council, stating the inconveniences under which the in 
 habitants laboured, from the attention of the proprietaries 
 to their private interests, to the neglect of the general wel 
 fare of the community, and praying for redress. Franklin 
 was appointed to present this addr-ess, as agent for the 
 province of Pennsylvania, and departed irom America in 
 June 1757. In conformity to the instructions which ha 
 had received from the legislature, he held a conference 
 with the proprietaries, who then resided in England, and 
 endeavoured to prevail upon them to give up the long con 
 tested point. Finding that they would hearken to no terms 
 of accommodation, he laid his petition before the council. 
 During this*time Governor Denny assented to a law im 
 posing a tax, in which no discrimination was made in fa 
 vour of the estates of the Perm family. They, alarmed at 
 this intelligence, and Franklin s exertions, used their ut 
 most endeavours to prevent the royal sanction being given 
 to this law, which they represented as highly iniquitous, 
 designed to throw the burden of supporting government 
 upon them, and calculated to produce the most ruinous 
 consequences to them and their posterity. The cause was 
 amply discussed before the privy council. The Penns 
 found here some strenuous advocates; nor were there 
 wanting some who warmly espoused the side of the people. 
 After some time spent in debate, a proposal was made, that 
 Franklin should solemnly engage, that the assessment of 
 the tax should be so made, as that the proprietary estates 
 should pay no more tban a due proportion. This he agreed 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 117 
 
 to perform ; the Penn family withdrew their opposition, and 
 tranquillity was thus once more restored to the province. 
 
 The mode in which this dispute was terminated is a 
 striking proof of the high opinion entertained of Franklin s 
 integrity and honour, even by those who considered him as 
 inimical to their views. Nor was their confidence ill- 
 founded. The assessment was made upon the strictest 
 principles of equity ; and the proprietary estates bore only 
 a proportionable share of the expenses of supporting go 
 vernment. 
 
 After the completion 6f this important business, Frank 
 lin remained at the court of Great Britain, as agent for the 
 province of Pennsylvania. The extensive knowledge which 
 he possessed of the situation of the colonies, and the re 
 gard which he always manifested for their interests, occa 
 sioned his appointment to the same office by the colonies of 
 Massachussets, Maryland, and Georgia. His conduct, in 
 this situation, was such as rendered him still more dear to 
 his countrymen. 
 
 He had now an opportunity of indulging in the society 
 of those friends whom his merits had procured him while at 
 a distance. The regard which they had entertained for 
 him was rather increased by a personal acquaintance. The 
 opposition which had been made to his discoveries in phi 
 losophy gradually ceased, and the rewards of literary merit 
 were abundantly conferred upon him. The Royal Society 
 of London, which had at first refused his performances ad* 
 mission into its transactions, now thought it an honour to 
 rank him amongst its fellows. Other societies of Europe 
 were equally ambitious of calling him a member. The 
 university of St. Andrew s, in Scotland, conferred upon 
 him the degree of Doctor of Laws. Its example was 
 followed by the universities of Edinburgh and Oxford. His 
 correspondence was sought for by the most eminent philo 
 sophers of Europe. His letters to these abound witli 
 
118 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 true science, delivered in a most simple unadorned man* 
 ner. 
 
 The province of Canada was at this time in the posses 
 sion of the French, who had originally settled it. The 
 trade with the Indians, for which its situation was very con 
 venient, was exceedingly lucrative. The French traders 
 here found a market for their commodities, and received 
 in return large quantities of furs, which they disposed of at 
 a high price in Europe. Whilst the possession of this 
 country was highly advantageous to France, it was a 
 grievous inconvenience to the inhabitants of the British co 
 lonies. The Indians were almost generally desirous to 
 cultivate the friendship of the French, by whom they were 
 abundantly 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 considera 
 tions, it appeared to be the interest of Great Britain to gain 
 the possession of Canada. But the importance of such an 
 acquisition was not well understood in England. Franklin 
 about this time published his Canada pamphlet, in which he 
 in a forcible manner pointed out the advantages which 
 would result from the conquest of this province. 
 
 An expedition against it was planned, and the command 
 given to General Wolfe. His success is well known. At 
 the treaty in 1762, France ceded Canada to Great Britain, 
 and by her cession of Louisiana, at the same time, relin 
 quished all her possessions on the continent of America. 
 
 Although Dr. Franklin was now principally occupied 
 with political pursuits, he found time for philosophical stu 
 dies. He extended his researches in electricity, and made 
 a variety of experiments, particularly on the tourmalin. 
 The singular properties which this stone possesses of being 
 electrified on one side positively and on the other negatively, 
 by heat alone, without friction, had been but lately observe,^ 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 119 
 
 Some experiments on the cold produced by evapora 
 tion, made by Dr. Cullen, bad been communicated to Dr. 
 Franklin, by Professor Simpson, of Glasgow. These he 
 repeated, and found, that, by the evaporation of aether in 
 the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, so great a degree 
 of cold was produced in a summer s day, that water was 
 converted into ice. This discovery he applied to the so 
 lution of a number of phenomena, particularly a singular 
 fact, which philosophers had endeavoured in vain to ac 
 count for, viz. that the temperature of the human body, 
 when in health, never exceeds 96 degrees of Fahrenheit s 
 thermometer, though the atmosphere which surrounds it 
 may be heated to a much greater degree. This he attri 
 buted to the increased perspiration, and consequent eva 
 poration, produced by the heat. 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Small, /of London, dated in May 17G0, 
 Dr. Franklin makes a number of observations, tending to 
 show that, in North America, north-east storms begin in 
 the south-west parts. It appears, from actual observa 
 tions, that a north-east storm, which extended a consider 
 able distance, commenced at Philadelphia near four hours 
 before it was felt at Boston. He endeavoured to account 
 for this, by supposing that, from heat, some rarefaction 
 takes place about the gulf of Mexico, that the air further 
 north rushes in, and is succeeded by the cooler and denser 
 air still farther north, and that thus a continual current is 
 at length produced. 
 
 The tone produced by rubbing the brim of a drinking- 
 glass with a wet finger, had bewi 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 ca* 
 pable 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 Jus 
 
120 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 plan* The sweetness of the tones induced Dr. Franklin ft 
 make a variety of experiments; and he at length formed 
 that elegant instrument which he has called the Armonica. 
 In the summer of 1762, he returned to America. On 
 his passage he observed the singular effect produced by 
 the agitation of a vessel, containing oil, floating on water. 
 The surface of the oil remains smooth and undisturbed, 
 whilst the water is agitated with the utmost commotion. 
 No satisfactory explanation of this appearance has, we be 
 lieve, ever been given. 
 
 Dr. Franklin received the thanks of the assembly of 
 Pennsylvania, " as well for the faithful discharge of his 
 duty to that province in particular, as for the many and 
 important services done to America in general, during his 
 residence in Great Britain." A compensation of 50001. 
 Pennsylvania currency, was also decreed him for his ser 
 vices during six years. 
 
 During his absence he had been annually elected mem 
 ber of the assembly. On his return to Pennsylvania he 
 again took his seat in this bodv, and continued a steady de 
 fender 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, arid 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 about 120, principally inhabitants of Done 
 gal and Pecktrtang or Paxton township, in the county of 
 York, assembled; and, mounted on horseback, proceeded 
 to the settlement of these harmless and defenceless In 
 dians, whose number had now been reduced to about 
 twenty. The Indians had received intelligence of the at 
 tack which was intended against them, but disbelieved it, 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 1SI 
 
 Considering the while people as their friends, they ap 
 prehended no danger from them. When the party arrived 
 at the Indian settlement, they found only some women and 
 children, and a few old men, the rest being absent at work. 
 They murdered all whom they found, and amongst others 
 the chief Sbaheas, who had been always distinguished for 
 his friendship to the whites. This bloody deed excited 
 much indignation in the well-disposed part of the com 
 munity. 
 
 The remainder of these unfortunate Indians, who by ab 
 sence had escaped the massacre, were conducted to Lan 
 caster, and lodged in the gaol as a place of security. The 
 governor issued a proclamation expressing the strongest 
 disapprobation of the action, offering a reward for the dis 
 covery of the perpetrators of the deed, and prohibiting all 
 injuries to the. peaceable Indians in future. But, notwith 
 standing this, a party of the same men shortly after marched 
 to Lancaster, broke open the gaol, and inhumanly butchered 
 the innocent Indians, who had been placed there for 
 security. Another proclamation was issued, but it had 
 no effect. A detachment marched down to Philadelphia, 
 for the express purpose of murdering some friendly In 
 dians, who had been removed to the city for safety. A 
 number of the citizens armed in their defence. The 
 Quakers, whose principles are opposed to fighting, even in 
 their own defence, were most active upon this occasion. 
 The rioters came to German- town. The governor fled for 
 safety to the house of Dr. Franklin, who, with some others, 
 advanced to meet the Paxton boys, as they were called, 
 and had influence enough to prevail upon them to relin 
 quish their undertaking, and return to their homes. 
 
 The disputes between the proprietaries and the assembly, 
 which, for a time, had subsided, were again revived. The 
 proprietaries were dissatisfied with the concessions made in 
 favour of the people, and made great struggles to recover 
 
122 .LIFE OF DR. FHANKL1X. 
 
 the privilege of exempting their estates from taxation, 
 which they had been induced to give up. 
 
 In 1763, the assembly passed a militia-bill, to which the 
 governor refused to give his assent, unless the assembly 
 would agree to certain amendments which he proposed. 
 These consisted in increasing the fines, and in some cases, 
 substituting death for fines. He wished too, that the of 
 ficers should be appointed altogether by himself, and not 
 be nominated by the people, as the bill had proposed. 
 These amendments the assembly considered as inconsistent 
 with the spirit of -liberty. They would not adopt them 
 the governor was obstinate, and the bill was lost. 
 
 . These, and various other circumstances, increased the 
 uneasiness which subsisted between the proprietaries and 
 the assembly, to such a degree, that, in 1764, a petition to 
 the king was agreed to by the house, praying an alteration 
 from a proprietary to a regal government. Great oppo 
 sition was made to this measure, not only in the house, but 
 in- the public prints. A speech of Mr. Dickenson on the 
 subject was published, with a preface by Dr. Smith, in 
 which great pains were taken to show the impropriety 
 and impolicy of this proceeding. A speech o? Mr. Gallo*- 
 way, in reply to Mr. Dickenson, was published, accompa 
 nied with a preface by Dr. Franklin, in which he ably op 
 posed the principles laid down in the preface to Mr. Dick- 
 enson s speech. This application to the throne produced 
 no effect. The proprietary government was still continued. 
 At the election of a new assembly, in the fall of 1764, 
 the friends of the proprietaries made great exertions to 
 exclude those of the adverse party ; and they obtained a 
 small majority in the city of Philadelphia. Franklin now 
 lost his seat in the house, which he had held for fourteen 
 years. On the meeting of the assembly, it appeared there 
 was still a decided majority of Franklin s friends. He was 
 immediately appointed provincial agent, to the great cha* 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 125 
 
 grin of his enemies, who made a solemn protest against his 
 appointment, which was refused admission upon the minutes, 
 a* being unprecedented. It was, however, published in 
 the papers, and produced a spirited reply from him, just 
 before his departure for England. 
 
 The disturbances produced in America by Mr. Gren- 
 ville s stamp-act, and the opposition made to it, are well 
 known. Under the Marquis of Rockingham s adminis 
 tration, it appeared expedient to endeavour to calm the 
 minds of the colonists; and the repeal of the odious tax 
 was contemplated. Amongst other means of collecting 
 information on the disposition of the people to submit to it, 
 Dr. Franklin was called to the bar of the house of com 
 mons. The examination which he underwent was pub 
 lished, and contains a striking account of the extent and 
 accuracy of his information, and the facility with which he 
 communicated his sentiments. He represented facts in so 
 strong a point of view, that the inexpediency of the act 
 must have appeared clear to every unprejudiced mind. 
 The act, after some opposition, was repealed, about a year 
 after it was enacted, and before it had ever been carried 
 into execution. 
 
 In the year 1766, he made a visit to Holland and Germany, 
 and received the greatest marks of attention from men of 
 science. In his passage through Holland he learned from 
 the watermen the effect which a diminution of the quantity 
 of water in canals has, in impeding the progress of boats. 
 Upon his return to England, he was led to make a number 
 of experiments, all of which tended to confirm the obser 
 vation. These, with an explanation of the phenomenon, 
 he communicated in a letter to his friend, Sir John 
 Pringle, which will be (bund among his philosophical 
 pieces. 
 
 In the following year he travelled into France, wher^ 
 $je met a no less favourable receptioa than he had expert 
 
124 LIFE OF DR. FRANKL1K, 
 
 enced in Germany. He was introduced lo a number of 
 literary characters, and to the king, Louis XV. , 
 
 Several letters written by Hutchinson, Oliver, and others, 
 to persons in eminent stations in Great Britain, came into 
 the hands of Dr. Franklin. These contained the most 
 violent invectives against the leading characters of the state 
 of Massachussets, and strenuously advised the prosecution 
 of vigorous measures, to compel the people to obedience 
 to the measures of the ministry. These he transmitted to 
 the legislature, by whom they were published. Attested 
 copies of them were sent to Great Britain, with an address, 
 praying the king to discharge from office persons who had 
 rendered themselves so obnoxious to the people, and who 
 had shown themselves so unfriendly to their interests. The 
 publication of these letters produced a duel between Mr. 
 \V> -ely and Mr. Temple, each of whom was suspected of 
 having been instrumental in procuring them. To prevent 
 any farther disputes on this subject, Dr. Franklin, in one 
 of the public papers, declared that he had sent them to 
 America, but would give no information concerning the 
 manner in which he hack obtained them nor was this ever 
 discovered. 
 
 Shortly after, the petition of the Massachussets assembly 
 was taken up for examination, before the privy council. 
 Dr, Franklin attended, as agent for the assembly; and 
 here a torrent of the most violent and unwarranted abuse 
 was poured upon him by the solicitor-general, Wedder- 
 burne, who was engaged as council for Oliver and Hut- 
 cluuson. The petition was declared to be scandalous and 
 vexatious, and the prayer of it refused. 
 
 Although the parliament of Great Britain had repealed 
 the stamp-act, it was only upon the principle of expediency. 
 They still insisted upon their right to tax the colonies ; 
 and, at the same time that the stamp-act was repealed, an 
 act was passed, declaring the right of parliament to bind the 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 125 
 
 colonies in all cases whatsoever. This language was used 
 even by the most strenuous opposers of the stamp-act : 
 and, amongst others, by Mr. Pitt. This right was never 
 recognized by the colonists ; but, as they flattered them 
 selves that it would not be exercised, they were not very 
 active in remonstrating against it. Had thin pretended 
 right been suffered to remain dormant, the colonists would 
 cheerfully have furnished their quota of supplies, in the 
 mode to which they had been accustomed ; that is, by acts 
 of their own assemblies, m consequence of requisitions 
 from the secretary of state. If this practice had been pur 
 sued, such was the disposition of the colonies towards 
 their mother-countr\, that, notwithstanding the disadvan 
 tages under which they laboured, from restraints upon 
 their trade, calculated solely for the benefit of the commer 
 cial and manufacturing interests of Great Britain, a sepa 
 ration 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;nost en 
 lightened nations of Europe were considered as almost 
 barbarians, in comparison with Englishmen. The name of 
 an Englishman conveyed to an American the idea of every 
 thing good and great. Such sentiments instilled into them 
 in early life, what but a repetition of unjust treatment 
 could have induced them to entertain the most distant 
 thought of separation ! The duties on glass, paper, leather, 
 painters colours, tea, &c, the disfranchisement of some of 
 the colonies ; the obstruction to the measures of the le 
 gislature in others, by the king s governors ; the contemp 
 tuous treatment of their humble remonstrances, stating 
 their grievances, and praying a redress of them, and other 
 violent and oppressive measures, at length excited an ar- 
 
126 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 
 
 dent spirit of opposition. Instead of endeavouring to allay 
 this by a more lenient conduct, the ministry seemed reso 
 lutely bent upon reducing the colonies to the most slavish 
 obedience to their decrees. But this only tended to aggra 
 vate. Vain were all the efforts made use of to prevail upon 
 ihem to lay aside their designs, to convince them of the im 
 possibility of carrying them into effect, and of the mischie 
 vous consequences which must ensue from a continuance of 
 the attempts. They persevered, with a degree of inflexibi 
 lity scarcely paralleled. 
 
 The advantages which Great Britain derived from her 
 colonies were so great, that nothing but a degree of infa 
 tuation, little short of madness, couUJ, have produced a 
 continuance of measures calculated to keep up a spirit of 
 uneasiness, which might occasion the slightest wish for a 
 separation. When we consider the great improvements in 
 the science of government, the general diffusion of the 
 principles of liberty amongst the people of Europe, the 
 effects which these have already produced in France, and 
 the probable consequences which will result from them 
 elsewhere, all of which are the offspring of the American 
 revolution, it cannot but appear strange, that events of so 
 great moment to the happiness of mankind; should have 
 been ultimately occasioned by the wickedness or ignorance 
 ot a British minister. 
 
 Dr. Franklin left nothing untried to prevail upon the 
 ministry to consent to a change of measures. In private 
 conversations, and in letters to persons in government, he 
 continually expatiated upon the impolicy and injustice of 
 their conduct towards America ; and stated, that notwith 
 standing the attachment of the colonists to the mother- 
 country, a repetition of ill treatment must ultimately 
 alienate their affections. They listened not to his advice. 
 They blindly persevered in their own schemes, and left to 
 their colonists no alternative, but opposition, or uncondr 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 12? 
 
 tional submission. The latter accorded not with the prin 
 ciples of freedom, which they had been taught to revere. 
 To the former they were compelled, though reluctantly, to 
 have recourse. 
 
 Dr. Franklin, finding all efforts to restore harmony be 
 tween Great Britain and her colonies useless, returned to 
 America in the year 1775 ; just after the commencement of 
 hostilities. The day after his return he was ejected by the 
 legislature of Pennsylvania a delegate to congress. Not 
 long after his election a committee was appointed, consist 
 ing of Mr. Lynch, Mr. Harrison, and himself, to visit the 
 camp at Cambridge, and, in conjunction with the com- 
 rnander-in-chief, to endeavour to convince the troops, 
 whose term of enlistment was about to expire, of the ne 
 cessity 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 endea* 
 vour to unite them in the common cause of liberty ; but 
 they cold not be prevailed upon to oppose the measures 
 of the British government. M. Le Roy, in a letter annexed 
 to Abbe Fauchet s eulogium en Dr. Franklin, states, that 
 the ill success of this negociation was occasioned, in a 
 great degree, by religious animosities, which subsisted be 
 tween the Canadians and their neighbours, some of whom 
 had at difierent times burnt their chapels. 
 
 When Lord Howe came to America, in 1776, rested 
 with power to treat with the colonies, a correspondence 
 took place between him and Dr. Franklin, on the subject 
 of a reconciliation. Dr. Franklin was afterwards ap 
 pointed, together with John Adams, and Edward Rut- 
 ledge, to wait upon the commissioners, in order to learn 
 the extent of their powers. These were found to be only 
 to grant pardons upon submission. Such terms which 
 could not be accepted ; and the object of the corauussign- 
 ers was not obtained. 
 
f28 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 
 
 The momentous question of independence was shortly 
 after brought into view, at a time when the fleets and ar 
 mies, which were sent to enforce obedience, were truly 
 formidable. With an army, numerous indeed, but igno 
 rant of discipline, and entirely unskilled in the art of 
 war, without money, without a fleet, without allies, and with 
 nothing but the lore of liberty to support them, the colo 
 nists determined to separate from a country, from which 
 they had experienced a repetition of injury and insult. In 
 this question, Dr. Franklin was decidedly in favour of the 
 measures proposed, and had great influence in bringing 
 others to his sentiments. 
 
 The public mind had been prepared for this event, by 
 Mr. Paine s celebrated pamphlet, Common Sense. There 
 is good reason to believe that Dr. Franklin had no incon 
 siderable share, at least, in furnishing materials for this 
 work. 
 
 In the convention which assembled at Philadelphia in 
 1776, for the purpose of establishing a new form of go 
 vernment for the state of Pennsylvania, Dr. Franklin was 
 chosen president. The late constitution of this state, which 
 was the result of their deliberations, may be considered as 
 a digest of his principles of government. The single le 
 gislature, and the plural executive, seem to have been his 
 favourite tenets. 
 
 In the latter end of 1776, Dr. Franklin was appointed 
 to assist in the negociation which had been set on foot by 
 Silas Deane at the court of France. A conviction of the 
 advantages of a commercial intercourse with America, and 
 a desire of weakening the British empire by dismembering 
 it, first induced the French court to listen to proposals of 
 an alliance. But they shewed rather a reluctance to the 
 measure, which, by Dr. Franklin s address, and particu 
 larly by the success of the American arms against General 
 Bur^oyne, was at length overcome ; and in February 1778. 
 
LIFE OF DR* FRANKLIN. 129 
 
 ft treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, was concluded ; 
 in consequence of which France became involved in the war 
 with Great Britain. 
 
 Perhaps no person could have been found more capable 
 of rendering- essential services to the United States at the 
 court of France, than Dr. Franklin. He was well known 
 as a philosopher, and his character was held in the highest 
 estimation. He was received with the greatest marks of 
 respect by all the literary characters ; and this respect was 
 extended amongst all classes of men. His personal influ 
 ence was hence very considerable. To the effects of this 
 were added those of various performances which he pub 
 lished, 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 negoci- 
 ated in Holland and France, which greatly contributed to 
 bring the war to a conclusion. 
 
 The repeated ill success of their arms, and more parti 
 cularly the capture of Cornwallis and his army, at length 
 convinced the British nation of the impossibility of reducing 
 the Americans to subjection. The trading interest parti 
 cularly became clamorous for peace. The ministry were 
 unable longer to oppose their wishes. Provisional articles 
 of peace were agreed to, and signed at Paris on the 30th 
 of November 1782, by Dr, Franklin, Mr. Adams, Mr. 
 Jay, and Mr. Laurens, on the part of the United States; 
 and by Mr. Oswald, on the part of Great Britain. These 
 formed the basis of the definitive treaty, which was con 
 cluded the 3d of September, 1783, and signed by Dr. 
 Franklin, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Jay, on the one part, and 
 by Mr. David Hartly on the other. 
 
 On the 3d of April, 1783, a treaty of amity and com 
 merce, between the United States and Sweden, was con 
 cluded at Paris, by Dr. Franklin and the Count Von 
 Krutz. 
 
130 LIFE OF DR. FBANKLIN. 
 
 A similar treaty with Prussia was concluded in 
 1785, not long* before Dr. Franklin s departure from 
 Europe. 
 
 Dr. Franklin did not suffer his political pursuits to en 
 gross his whole attention. Some of his performances made 
 their appearance in Paris. The object of these was gene 
 rally the promotion of industry and economy. 
 
 In the year 1784, when animal magnetism made great 
 noise in the world, particularly at Paris, it was thought a 
 matter of such importance, that the king appointed com 
 missioners to examine into the foundation of this pretended 
 science. Dr. Franklin was one of the number. After a 
 fair and diligent examination, in the course of which 
 Mesmer repeated a number of experiments, in the presence 
 of the commissioners, some of which were tried upon them 
 selves, they determined that it was a mere trick, intended 
 to impose upon the ignorant and credulous Mesmer was 
 thus interrupted in his career to wealth and fame, and a 
 most insolent attempt to impose upon the human under 
 standing baffled. 
 
 The important ends of Dr. Franklin s mission being 
 completed by the establishment of American independence, 
 and the infirmities of age and disease coming upon him, he 
 became desirous of returning to his native country. Upon 
 application to congress to be recalled, Mr. Jefferson was 
 appointed to succeed him, in 1785. Some time in Sep 
 tember of the same year, Dr. Franklin arrived in Philadel 
 phia. He was shortly after chosen member of the supreme 
 executive council for the city ; and soon after was elected 
 president of the same. 
 
 When a convention was called to meet in Philadelphia, 
 in 1787, for the purpose of giving more energy to the go 
 vernment of the union, by revising and amending the ar 
 ticles of confederation, Dr. Franklin was appointed a dele 
 gate from the state of Pennsylvania. He signed the con* 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 1DI 
 
 .Mitution which they proposed for the union, and gave it the 
 most unequivocal marks of his approbation. 
 , A society 1 or political inquiries, of which Dr. Franklin 
 was president, was established about this period. The 
 meetings were held at his house. Two or three essays read 
 in this society were published. It did not long- continue. 
 
 In the year 1787, two societies were established in Phi 
 ladelphia, founded on the principles of the moat liberal and 
 refined humanity. The Philadelphia Society for allevi 
 ating 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 im 
 provement of the condition of the African race. Of each 
 of these Dr. Franklin was president. The labours of these 
 bodies have been crowned with great success ; and they 
 continue to prosecute, with unwearied diligence, the 
 laudable designs for which they were established. 
 
 Dr. Franklin s increasing infirmities prevented his regu 
 lar attendance at the council-chamber ; and, in 1788, he 
 retired wholly from public life. 
 
 His constitution had been a remarkably good one. He 
 had been little subject to disease except an attack of the 
 gout occasionally, until about the year 1781, when he was 
 first attacked with symptoms of the calculous complaint, 
 which continued during his life. During the intervals of 
 pain from this grievous disease, he spent many cheerful 
 hours, conversing in the most agreeable and instructive 
 manner. His faculties were entirely unimpaired, even to 
 the hour of his death. 
 
 His name, as president of the abolition society, was 
 signed to the memorial presented to the house of represen 
 tatives of the United States, on the 12th of February, 1789, 
 praying them to exert the full extent of power vested in 
 them by the constitution, in discouraging the traffic of the 
 human species. This was his last, public act. In the de- 
 
 K 2 
 
132 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 bates to which this memorial gave rise, several attempts 
 were made to justify the trade. la the Federal Gazette of 
 March 25th, there appeared an essay, signed Historicus, 
 written by Dr. Franklin, in which he communicated a 
 speech, said to have been delivered in the Divan of Al 
 giers, in 1687, in opposition to the prayer of the petition 
 of a sect called Erika, or purists, for the abolition of pi 
 racy and slavery. This pretended African speech was an 
 excellent parody of one delivered by Mr. Jackson, of 
 Georgia. All the arguments urged in favour of negro 
 slavery, are applied with equal force to justify the plunder* 
 ing and enslaving of Europeans. It affords, at the same 
 time, a demonstration of the futility of the arguments in 
 defence of the slave trade, and of the strength of mind and 
 ingenuity of the author, at his advanced period of life. It 
 furnished too, a no less convincing proof of his power of 
 imitating the style of other times and nations, than his ce 
 lebrated parable against persecution. And as the latter 
 led many persons to search the scriptures with a view to 
 find it, so the former caused many persons to search the 
 book-stores and libraries, for the work from which it was 
 Said to be extracted. 
 
 In the beginning of April following, he was attacked 
 with a fever and complaint of his breast, which terminated 
 his existence. The following account of his last illness was 
 written by his friend and physician, Dr. Jones. 
 
 " The stone, with which he had been afflicted for several 
 years, had for the last twelve months confined him chiefly 
 to his bed ; and during the extremely painful paroxysms, 
 he was obliged to take large doses of laudanum to mitigate 
 his tortures; still, in the intervals of pain, he not only 
 amused himself with reading and conversing cheerfully 
 with his family and a few friends who visited him, but was 
 often employed in doing business of a public as well as pri 
 vate nature with varic.us persons wfio waited on him for 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 138 
 
 that purpose ; and in every instance displayed, not only 
 that readiness and disposition of doing good, which was 
 the distinguishing characteristic of his life, but the fullest 
 and clearest possession of his uncommon mental abilities ; 
 and not unfrequently indulged himself in those jeux (f esprit 
 and entertaining anecdotes, which were the delight of all 
 who heard him. 
 
 " About sixteen days before his death, he was seized 
 with a feverish indisposition, without any particular symp 
 toms attending it, till the third or fourth day, when he com 
 plained of a pain in the left breast, which increased till it 
 became extremely acute, attended with a cough and labo 
 rious breathing. During this state, when the severity of his 
 pains sometimes drew forth a groan of complaint, he would 
 observe, that he was afraid lie did not bear it as he ought ; 
 acknowledged his grateful sense of the many blessings he 
 had received from the Supreme Being, who had raised him 
 from small and low beginnings to such high rank and con 
 sideration among men, and made no doubt but his present 
 afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from a world, 
 in whicli he was no longer fit to act the part assigned him. 
 In this frame of body and mind he continued till five days 
 before his death, when his pain and difficulty of breathing 
 entirely left him and his family were flattering themselves 
 with the hopes of his recovery, when an imposthumation, 
 which had formed itself in his lungs, suddenly burst, and 
 discharged a great quantity of matter, which he continued 
 to throw up while he had sufficient strength to do it, but, 
 as that failed, the organs of respiration became gradually 
 oppressed, a calm lethargic state succeeded, and on the 
 17th of April, 1790, about eleven o clock at night, he 
 quietly expired, closing a long and useful life of eighty-four 
 years and three months." 
 
 It may not be amiss to add to the above account, Ihr.t. 
 Dr. Franklin, in the year 1735, had a severe pleurisy, 
 
134 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 which terminated in an abscess of the left lobe of his lungs, 
 and he was then almost suffocated, with the quantity and 
 suddenness of the discharge. A second attack of a similar 
 nature happened, some years after this, from which he soon 
 recovered, and did not appear to suffer any inconvenience 
 in his respiration from these diseases. 
 
 The following epitaph on himself, was written by him 
 many years previous to his death: 
 
 THE BODY 
 
 OF 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 
 
 PRINTER, 
 
 (LIKE THE COVER OF AN OLD BOOK, 
 
 ITS CONTENTS TORN OUT, 
 AND STRIPT OF ITS LETTERING AND GILDING) 
 
 LIES HERE FOOD FOR WORMS; 
 
 YET THE WORK ITSELF SHALL NOT BE LOST, 
 FOR IT WILL (AS HE BELIEVED) APPEAR ONCE MORE 
 
 IN A NEW 
 
 AND MORE BEAUTIFUL EDITION, 
 CORRECTED AND AMENDED 
 
 BY 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Extracts from tfie last Will and Testament of Dr. 
 Franklin. 
 
 With regard to my books, those I had in France, and 
 those I left in Philadelphia, being now assembled together 
 here, and a catalogue made of them, it is my intention to 
 dispose of the same as follows: 
 
 My " History of the Academy of Sciences," in sixty or 
 seventy volumes quarto, I give to the philosophical society 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 135 
 
 of Philadelphia, of which I have the honour to be president. 
 My collection in folio of " Les Arts et les Metiers" I 
 give to the American Philosophical Society, established 
 in New England, of which I ana a member. My quarto 
 edition of the same, " Arts et Metiers" I give to 
 the Library Company of Philadelphia. Such and so 
 many of my books as I shall mark, in the said cata 
 logue, with the name of my grandson Benjamin Frank 
 lin Bache, I do hereby give to him: and such and so many 
 of my books, asl shall mark in the said catalogue with the 
 name of my grandson William Bache, I do hereby give to 
 him: and such as shall be marked with the name of Jona* 
 than Williams, I hereby give to my cousin of that name. 
 The residue and remainder of all my books, manuscripts, 
 and papers, I do give to my grandson William Temple 
 Franklin. My share in the Library Company of Phila 
 delphia, I give to my grandson, Benjamin Franklin 
 Bache, confiding that he will permit his bvothers and sis 
 ters to share in the use of it. 
 
 .1 was born in Boston, New England, and owe my first 
 instructions in literature to the free grammar schools 
 established there. I therefore give one hundred pounds 
 sterling to my executors, to be by them, the survivors or" 
 survivor of them, paid over to the managers or directors of 
 the free-schools in my native town ot Boston, to be by 
 them, or the person or persons who shall have the sufferin- 
 tendance and management of the said schools, put out to 
 interest, and so continued at interest for ever ; which in 
 terest annually shall be laid out in silver medals, and given 
 as honorary rewards annually by the directors of the said 
 free-schools, for the encouragement of scholarship in the 
 said schools, belonging to the said town, in such manner 
 as to the discretion of the select men of the said town shall 
 seem meet. 
 
 Out of the salary that may remain due to me, as Pros?- 
 
136 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 dent of the State, I give the sum of two thousand pounds 
 o my executors, to be by them, the survivors or survivor 
 of them, paid over to such person or persons as the legisla^ 
 tare of this state, by an act of* assembly, shall appoint to 
 receive the same, in trust, to be employed for making ,the 
 Schuylkil navigable. 
 
 During the number of years I was in business as a sta 
 tioner, printer, and post-master, a great many small sums 
 became due to me for books, advertisements, postage of 
 letters, and other matters, which were not collected, when, 
 in 1757, I was sent by the assembly to England as their 
 aarent, and, by subsequent appointments, continued there 
 till 1775, when, on my return, I was immediately engaged 
 in the affairs of congress, and sent to France in 1776, 
 where I remained nine years, not returning till 1785; and 
 the said debts not being demanded in such a length of time, 
 are become in a manner obsolete, yet are nevertheless 
 justly due. These as they are stated in my great folio 
 ledger, E, I bequeath to the contributors of the Pennsyl 
 vania hospital ; hoping that those debtors, and the de 
 scendants of such as are deceased, who now, as I find, 
 make some difficulty oil satisfying such antiquated demands 
 as just debts, may, however, be induced to pay or give 
 them as chanty to that excellent institution. I am sen 
 sible that much must inevitably be lost; but I hope some 
 thing considerable may be recovered. It is possible too, 
 that some of the parties charged may have existing old un 
 settled accounts against me ; in which case the managers 
 of the said hospital will allow and deduct the amount, or 
 pay the balance, if they find it against me. 
 
 I request my friends, Henry Hill, Esq. John Jay, Esq. 
 Francis Hopkinson, Esq. arid Mr. Edward Duffield, of 
 Bonfield, in Philadelphia county, to be the executors of 
 this my last will and testament, and I hereby nominate an4 
 appoint them for that purpose. 
 
LIFE OF Dtt. FRANKLIN. 137 
 
 1 would have my body buried with as little expense or 
 ceremony as may be, 
 
 Philadelphia, July 17, 1778. 
 
 CODICIL. 
 
 I, Benjamin Franklin, in the foregoing or annexed last 
 will and testament, having further considered the same, do 
 think proper to make and publish the following codicil, in 
 addition thereto. 
 
 It having long been a fixed and political opinion of 
 mine, that in a democratical state there ought to be no of* 
 fices of profit, fbr 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, be 
 fore I made my last will in July last, given large sums of it 
 to colleges, schools, building of churches, &c. ; and, in 
 that will I bequeathed two thousand pounds more to the 
 state, for the purpose of making the Schuylkil navigable; 
 but understanding since, that such a sum will do but little 
 towards accomplishing such a work, and that project is not 
 likely to be undertaken for many years to come and hav 
 ing entertained another idea, which I hope may be more 
 extensively useful, I do hereby revoke and annul the be 
 quest, and direct that the certificates I have of what re 
 mains due to me of that salary, be sold towards raising the 
 sum of two thousand pounds sterling, to be disposed of as I 
 am now about to order. 
 
 It has been an opinion, that he who receives an estate 
 from his ancestors, is under some obligation to transmit 
 the same to posterity. This obligation lies not on me, who 
 never inherited a shilling from any ancestor or relation. I- 
 shall, however, if it is not diminished by some accident be 
 fore my death, leave a considerable estate among my de 
 scendants and relations. The abo; e observation is made 
 
138 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN 
 
 
 
 merely as some apology to my family, for my making be 
 quests that do not appear to have any immediate relation 
 to their advantage. 
 
 I was born in Boston, New England, and owe my first 
 instructions in literature to the free grammar schools 
 established there. I have, therefore, considered those 
 schools in my w.ill. 
 
 But I am also under obligations to the state of Massa- 
 chussets, for having, unasked, appointed me formerly their 
 agent, with a handsome salary, which continued some 
 years; and although I accidentally lost in their service, by 
 transmitting Governor Hutchinson s letters, much more 
 than the amount of what they gave me, I do not think that 
 ought in the least to diminish my gratitude. I have con 
 sidered that, among artisans, good apprentices are most 
 likely to make good citizens, and having myself been bred 
 to a manual art, printing, in my native town, and after 
 wards assisted to set up my business in Philadelphia by 
 kind loans of money from two friends there, which was the 
 foundation of my fortune, and of ail the utility in life that 
 may be ascribed to me I wish to be useful even after my 
 death, if possible, in forming and advancing other young 
 men, that may be serviceable to their country in both these 
 towns. 
 
 To this end I devote two thousand pounds sterling*, 
 which I give, one thousand thereof to the inhabitants of the 
 town of Boston, in Massachussets, and the other thousand 
 to the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia, in trust, to 
 and for the uses, intents, iind purposes, herein after men 
 tioned 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 Presbyterian churches in that town, who are to let out 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 13U 
 
 the same at five per cent, per annum, to such young mar 
 ried artificers, under the age of twenty-five years, as have 
 served an apprenticeship in the said town, and faithfully 
 fulfilled the duties required in their indentures, so as to 
 obtain a good moral character from at least two respect 
 able citizens, who are willing to become sureties in a bond; 
 with the applicants, for the re-payment of the money so 
 lent, with interest, according to the terms hereinafter pre 
 scribed ; all which bonds are to be taken for Spanish milled 
 dollars, or the value thereof in current gold coin : and the 
 manager shall keep a bound book, or books, wherein shall 
 be entered the names of those who shall apply for, and re 
 ceive the benefit of this institution, and of their sureties, 
 together with the sums lent, the dates, and other necessary 
 and proper records, respecting the business and concerns 
 of this institution : and as these loans are intended to assist 
 young married artificers, in setting up their business, they 
 are to be proportioned by the discretion of the managers, 
 so as not to exceed sixty pounds sterling to one person, nor 
 to be less than fifteen pounds. 
 
 And if the number of appliers so entitled shou-ld be so 
 large as that the sum will not suffice to afford to each as 
 much as might otherwise not be improper, the proportion 
 to each shall be diminished, so as to afford to every one some 
 assistance. These aids may, therefore, be small at first, 
 but as the capital increases by the accumulated interest, 
 they will be more ample. And in order to serve as many 
 as possible in their turn, as well as to make the re-payment 
 of the principal borrowed more easy, each borrower shall 
 be obliged to pay with the yearly interest, one-tenth part 
 of the principal; which sums of principal and interest so 
 paid in, shall be again let out to fresh borrowers. And it 
 is presumed, that there will be always found in Boston vir 
 tuous and benevolent citizens, willing to bestow a part of 
 their time in doing good to the rising generation, ?>y super- 
 
140 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 intending and managing this institution gratis ; it is hopeft 
 that no part of the money will at any time lie dead, or be 
 diverted to other purposes, but be continually augmenting 
 by the interest, in which case, there may in time be more 
 than -the occasion in Boston may require ; and then some 
 may be spared to the neighbouring or other towns, in the 
 said state of Massachussets, which may desire to have it, 
 such towns engaging to pay punctually the interes*, and 
 the proportion of the principal annually to the inhabitants 
 of the town of Boston. If this plan is executed, and suc 
 ceeds, as projected, for one hundred years, the sum will 
 then be one hundred and thirty, thousand pounds, of which 
 I would have the managers of the donation to the town of 
 Boston then lay out, at their discretion, one hundred thou 
 sand pounds in public works, which may be judged of most 
 general utility to the inhabitants ; such as fortifications, 
 bridges, aqueducts, public buildings, baths, pavements, or 
 whatever may make living in the town more convenient to 
 its people, and render it more agreeable to strangers re 
 sorting thither for health, or a temporary residence. The 
 remaining thirty-one thousand pounds I would have conti 
 nued to be let out to interest, in the manner above directed, 
 for one hundred years ; as I hope it will have been found 
 that the institution has had a good effect, on the conduct 
 of youth, and been of service to many worthy characters 
 and useful citizens. At the end of this second term, if no 
 unfortunate accident has prevented the operation, the sum 
 will be four millions and sixty-one thousand pounds ster 
 ling, of which I leave one million and sixty-one thousand 
 pounds to the disposition and management of the inhabit 
 ants of the town of Boston, and the three millions to the 
 disposition of the government of the state not presuming 
 to carry my views farther. 
 
 AIJ the directions herein given respecting the disposi 
 tion and management of the donation to the inhabitants of 
 
LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 141 
 
 Boston, I would have observed respecting that to the in 
 habitants of Philadelphia ; only, as Philadelphia is incor 
 porated, 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 pur 
 pose. And having- considered that the covering its ground- 
 plat with buildings and pavements, which carry off most of 
 the rain, and prevent its soaking into the earth, and renew- 
 Sig and purifying the springs, whence the water of the wells 
 must gradually grow worse, and in time, be unfit for use, as 
 I find has happened in all old cities ; I recommend, that, at 
 the end of the first hundred years, if not done before, the 
 corporation of the city employ a part of the hundred thou 
 sand pounds in bringing by pipes the water of Wissaliickon- 
 f reek 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 
 Schuvlkil completely navigable. At the end of the second 
 hundred years, I would have the disposition of the four 
 millions and sixty-one thousand pounds divided between 
 the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia and the govern 
 ment of Pennsylvania, in the same manner as herein di 
 rected with respect to that of the inhabitants of Boston 
 and the government of Massach assets. It is my desire 
 that this institution should take place, and begin to operate 
 within one year after my decease, for which purpose due 
 notice should be publicly given, previous to the expiration 
 of that year, that those for whose benefit this establishment 
 is intended may make their respective applications: and I 
 hereby direct my executors, the survivor or survivors of 
 them, within six months after my decease, to pay over the 
 said sum of two thousand pounds sterling to such persons 
 as shall be duly appointed by the select men of Boston, and 
 the corporation of Philadelphia, to receive and take charge 
 
142 : LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN; 
 
 of their respective sums of one thousand pounds each, for 
 the purposes aforesaid* Considering- the accidents to 
 which all human affairs and projects are subject in such a 
 length of time, I have, perhaps, too much flattered myself 
 with a vain fancy, that these dispositions, if carried into 
 execution, will be continued without interruption, and have 
 the effects proposed : I hope, however, that if the inhabit 
 ants of the two cities should not think fit to undertake the 
 execution, they will at least accept the offer of these dona 
 tions, as a mark of -my good will, token of my gratitude,- 
 and testimony of my desire to be useful to them even after 
 my departure. I wish, indeed, that they may both under 
 take to endeavour the execution of my project, because I 
 think, that, though unforeseen difficulties may arise, expe 
 dients will be found to remove them, and the scheme be 
 found practicable. If one of them accepts the money with 
 the conditions, and the other refuses, my will then is, that 
 both sums be giyen to the inhabitants of the city accepting ; 
 the whole to be applied to the same purposes, and under 
 the same regulations directed for the separate parts ; and, 
 if both refuse, the money remains of course in the mass of 
 my estate, and it is to be disposed of therewith, according 
 to my will made the seventeenth day of July 1788, 
 
 My fine crab-tree walking-stick, with a gold head curn 
 ously wrought in the form of the cap of liberty, I give to 
 my friend, and the friend of mankind, General Washington. 
 If it was a sceptre, he has merited it, and would become it* 
 
BUSY-BODY. 143 
 
 The Busy-Body. No. I.* 
 
 MR. ANDREW BRADFORD, 
 
 I design this to acquaiat you, that I, who have long been 
 one of your courteous readers, have lately entertained 
 some thought of setting up for an author myself; not out 
 of the least vanity, I assure you, or desire of showing my 
 parts, but purely for the good of my country. 
 
 I have often observed with concern, that your Mercury 
 is not always equally entertaining. The delay of ships ex 
 pected in, and want of fresh advices from Europe, make it 
 frequently very dull ; and I find the freezing of our river 
 has the same effect on news as trade. With more concern 
 have T- continually observed the growing vices and follies 
 x>f my country folk ; and though reformation is properly 
 the concern of every man, that is, everyone ought to mend 
 one ; yet it is too true in this case, that what is every 
 body s business is, no body s business, and the business is 
 done accordingly. I therefore, upon mature deliberation; 
 think fit to take no body s business wholly into my own 
 hands ; and, out of zeal for the public good, design to 
 erect myself into a kind of censor morum ; purposing, with, 
 your allowance, to make use of the Weekly Mercury as a 
 vehicle, in which my remonstrances shall be conveyed to the 
 world. 
 
 I am sensible I have, in this particular, undertaken a 
 very unthankful office, and expect little besides my labour 
 for my pains. Nay, it is probable, 1 may displease a great 
 number of your readers, who will not very well like to pay 
 
 * These papers appeared in the American Weekly Mer 
 cury, at various times, during the year 17*289, and are the 
 " humorous pieces" mentioned by Dr. Franklin in his me 
 
 moirs. 
 
144 BUSY-BOfif. 
 
 / 
 
 ten shillings a year for being- told of their faults. But as 
 most people delight in censure, when they themselves are 
 not the objects of it, if any are offended at- my* publicly ex 
 posing their private vices, I promise they shaft tifive the sa 
 tisfaction, in a very little time, of seeing their good friends 
 and neighbours in the same circumstances. 
 
 However, let the fair sex be assured, that I shall always 
 treat them and their affairs with the utmost decency and 
 respect. I intend now and then to dedicate a chapter 
 wholly to their service ; and if my lectures any way contri 
 bute to the embellishment of their minds, and brightening 
 of their understandings, without offending their modesty, I 
 doubt n.ot of having their favour and encouragement. 
 
 It is certain, that no country in the world produces na 
 turally finer spirits than ours, men of genius for every kind 
 of science, and capable of acquiring to perfection every 
 qualification that is in esteem among mankind. But as 
 few here have the advantage of good books, for want of 
 which, good conversation is still more scarce, it would, 
 doubtless, have been very acceptable to your readers, if; 
 instead of an old out-of-date article from Muscovy or Hun 
 gary, you had entertained them with some well chosen ex 
 tract from a good author. This I shall sometimes do, when 
 I happen to have nothing of my own to say that I think of 
 more consequence. Sometimes, I purpose to deliver lec 
 tures of morality or philosophy, and (because I am naturally 
 inclined to be meddling with things that do riot concern 
 me) perhaps I may sometimes talk politics. And if I can 
 by any means furnish out a weekly entertainment for the 
 public, that will give a rational diversion, and at the same 
 time be instructive to the readers, I shall think my leisure 
 hours well employed : and if you publish this, I hereby 
 invite all ingenious gentlemen and others (that approve 
 of such an undertaking) to my assistance and correspoa- 
 denoc. 
 
BtJSY-BODY. 145 
 
 It is like, by this time, you have a curiosity to be ac 
 quainted with ray name and character. As I do not aim at 
 public praise, I design to remain concealed : and there are 
 such numbers of our family and relations at this time in the 
 country, that, though I have signed my name at full length, 
 I am not under the least apprehension of being distin 
 guished and discovered by it. My character, indeed, 1 
 would favour you with, but that I am cautious of praising 
 myself, lest I should be told my trumpeter is dead : and I 
 cannot find in my heart, at present, to say any thing to my 
 own disadvantage. 
 
 It is very common with authors in their first performances, 
 to talk to their readers thus, If this meets with a suitable 
 reception, or, if this should meet with due encouragement, 
 I shall hereafter publish, &c. This only manifests the 
 value they put on their own writings, since they think to 
 frighten the public into their applause, by threatening, that 
 unless you approve what they have already wrote, they in 
 tend never to write again ; when perhaps it may not be a 
 pin matter, whether they ever do or no. As I have not 
 observed the critics to be more favourable on this account, 
 I shall always avoid saying any thing of the kind; and con 
 clude with telling you, that if you send me a bottle of ink 
 and a quire of paper by the bearer, you may depend on 
 hearing further from, Sir, 
 
 Your most humble servant, 
 
 THE BUSY-BODY. 
 
146 BUSY-BODY 
 
 The Busy-Rody.-~$o.l\. 
 
 All fools have still an itching to deride, 
 
 And tain would be upon the laughing side. POPE. 
 
 Monsieur Rochefocault tells us somewhere in his Me 
 moirs, that the Prince of Conde delighted much in ridicule, 
 and used frequently to shut himself up for half a day toge 
 ther, in his chamber, with a gentleman, that was his favour 
 ite, purposely to divert himself with examining what was 
 the foible, or ridiculous side, of every noted person in the 
 court. That gentleman said afterwards in some company, 
 that he thought nothing was more ridiculous in any body, 
 than this same humour in the prince ; and I am somewhat 
 inclined to be of this opinion. The general tendency there 
 is among us to this embellishment (which I fear has too 
 often grossly imposed upon my loving countrymen instead 
 of wit) and the applause it meets with from a rising gene 
 ration, fill me with fearful apprehensions for the future re 
 putation of my country : a young man of modesty (which is 
 the most certain indication of large capacities) is hereby 
 discouraged from attempting to make any figure in life : 
 his apprehensions of being outlaughed, will force him to 
 continue in a restless obscurity, without having an oppor 
 tunity of knowing his own merit himself, or discovering it 
 to the world, rather than venture to expose himself in a 
 place, where a pun or a sneer shall pass tor 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 Kidentius : what a contemptible figure does he 
 make with his train of paltry admirers? This wight shall 
 give himself an hour s diversion with the cock of a man s 
 hat, the heels of his shoes, an unguarded expression in 
 his discourse, or even some personal defect; and the 
 height of his low ambition is to put some one of th 
 
BUSY-BODY. 147 
 
 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 neces 
 sary to his constitution, or if he has a great desire of grow 
 ing 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 unhand 
 some, when friends meet for the benefit of conversation, and 
 a proper relaxation from business, that one should be the 
 butt of the company, and four men made merry at the cost 
 of the fifth. 
 
 How different from this character is that of the good- 
 najured, gay Eugenius ! who never spoke yet but with a 
 design to divert and please ; and who was never yet 
 baulked in his intention. Eugenius takes more delight in 
 applying the wit of his friends, than in being admired him 
 self: and if any one of the company is so unfortunate as to 
 be touched a little too nearly, he will make use of some in 
 genious artifice to turn the edge of ridicule another way, 
 choosi/ig rather to make himself a public jest, than be at 
 the pain of seeing his friend in confusion. 
 
 Among the tribe of laughers I reckon the pretty gentle 
 man, that writes satires, and carry them about in their 
 pockets, reading them themselves in all company they 
 happen into ; taking an advantage of the ill taste of the town, 
 to make themselves famous for a pack of paltry, low non 
 sense, for which they deserve to be kicked, rather than ad 
 mired, by all who have the least tincture of politeness. These 
 I take to be the most incorrigible of all my readers; nay, 1 
 expect they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself. 
 However, the only favour he begs of them is this, that if they 
 cannot controul their overbearing itch of scribbling, let him 
 be attacked in downright biting lyrics; for there is no satire 
 h* dreads half so much, as an attempt towards a panegyric. 
 
 I. 2 
 
148 BUSY-BODY, 
 
 The Bitsi-Bod.~T$o. III. 
 
 Non vultus instantis Tyranni 
 
 Mcnti quatit solida, nee anster, 
 
 Dux inquieti turbdius Adriae, 
 
 Nee fulminantis mngna Jovis manus. HOR. 
 
 It is said, that the Persians, in their ancient constitu 
 tion, had public schools, in which virtue was taught as a 
 Irberal art or science : and it is certainly of more conse 
 quence to a man, that he has learnt to govern his passions ; 
 in spite of temptation, to be just in bis dealings, to be tem 
 perate in his pleasures, to support himself with fortitude 
 under his misfortunes, to behave with prudence in all his 
 affairs, and in every circumstance of life ; I say, it is of 
 much more real advantage to him to be thus qualified, than 
 to be a master of all the arts and sciences in the world 
 besides. 
 
 Virtue alone is sufficient to make a man great, glorious, 
 and happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, as I am, 
 eannot help thinking as I do now, and will acknowledge he 
 deserves the name, without being honoured by it. Cato is 
 ii man whom fortune has placed in the most obscure part of 
 the country. His circumstances are such, as only put him 
 above necessity, without affording him many superfluities: 
 yet who is greater than Cato ? I happened but the other 
 day to be at a house in town, where, among others, were 
 met, men of the most note in this place ; Cato had busi 
 ness with some of them, and knocked at the door. Th 
 most trifling actions of a man, in my opinion, as well as th^ 
 smallest features and lineaments of the face, give a nice 
 observer some notion of his mind. Methought he rapped 
 in such a peculiar manner, as seemed of itself to express 
 there was one who deserved as well as desired admission. 
 He appeared in the plainest country garb ; his great coat 
 was coarse, and looked old and thread bare ; his linen was 
 
BUSY-BODY. 14!) 
 
 homespun.; his beard, perhaps, of seven days growth ; his 
 shoes thick and heavy ; and every part of his dress corre 
 sponding. Why was this man received with such concur 
 ring respect from every person in the room, even from 
 those, who had never known him or seen him before? It 
 was not an exquisite form of person, or grandeur of dress, 
 that struck us with admiration. I believe long habits of 
 virtue have a sensible effect on the countenance : there was 
 something in the air of his face, that manifested the true 
 greatness of his mind ; which likewise appeared in all he 
 said, and in every part of his behaviour, obliging us to 
 regard hi-m with a kind of veneration. His aspect is 
 sweetened with humanity and benevolence, and at Ihe same 
 emboldened with resolution, equally free from diffident 
 bashfulness and an unbecoming assurance. The conscious 
 ness of his own innate worth and unshaken integrity ren 
 ders him calm and andaunted in the presence of the most 
 great and powerful, and upon the most extraordinary oc 
 casions. His strict justice and known impartiality make 
 him the arbitrator and decider of all differences, that arise 
 for many miles around him, without putting his neighbours 
 to the charge, perplexity, and uncertainty of law-suits. 
 He always speaks the thing he means, which he is never 
 afraid or ashamed to do, because he knows he always 
 means well ; and therefore is never obliged to blush, and 
 feel the confusion of finding himself detected in the mean 
 ness of a falsehood. He never contrives ill against his 
 neighbour, and therefore is never seen with a lowering, 
 suspicious aspect. A mixture of innocence and wisdom 
 makes him ever seriously cheerful. His generous hospi 
 tality to strangers, according to his ability, his goodness, 
 his charity, his courage in the cause of the oppressed, his 
 fidelity in friendship, his humility, his honesty and sincerity, 
 his moderation and his loyalty to the government, his piety, 
 his temperance, his love to mankind, hi* magnanimity, his 
 
150 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 public spiritedness, and, in fine, his consummate virtue, 
 make him justly deserve to be esteemed the glory of his 
 country. 
 
 The brave do never shun the light, 
 Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers ; 
 Freely without disguise they love and hate, 
 Still are they found in the fair face of day, 
 And heaven and men are judges of their actions. HOWE. 
 Who would not rather choose, if it were in his choice, t 
 merit the above character, than be the richest, the most 
 learned, or the most powerful man in the province without it? 
 Almost every man has a strong natural desire of being 
 valued and esteemed by the rest of his species ; but I am 
 concerned and grieved to see how few fall into the right and 
 only infallible method of becoming so. That laudable am 
 bition is too commonly misapplied, and often ill employed. 
 Some, to make themselves considerable, pursue learning; 
 others grasp at wealth ; some aim at being thought witty ; 
 and others are only careful to make the most of an hand 
 some person : but what is wit, or wealth, or form, or learn 
 ing, 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 virtu 
 ous. Nor is it strange; since men of virtue are so rare, 
 so very rare to be found. If we were as industrious to be 
 come good, as to make ourselves gteat, we should become 
 really great by being good, and the number of valuable men 
 would be much increased ; but it is a grand mistake to 
 think of being great without goodness ; and I pronounce 
 it as certain, that there was never yet a truly great man, 
 that was not at the same time truly yirtuous. 
 
 O, Cretico ! thou sour philosopher ! thou cunning states 
 man ! 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 
 
BUSY-BODY. 151 
 
 Wilt thou never understand, that the cringing, mean, sub 
 missive deportment of thy dependents, is, (like the worship 
 paid by Indians to the devil) rather through fear of the harm 
 thou mayest 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 thy 
 self to a study much more profitable, the knowledge of 
 mankind and of thyself. 
 
 This is to give notice, that the Busy-Body strictly for 
 bids all persons, from this time forward, of what age, sex, 
 rank, quality, degree, or denomination soever, on any pre 
 tence, to inquire who is the author of this paper, on pain of 
 his displeasure (his own near and dear relations only ex- 
 cepted). 
 
 It is to be observed, that if any bad characters happen 
 to be drawn in the course of these papers, they meaai no 
 particular person, if they are not particularly applied. 
 
 Likewise, that tlie author is no party-man, but a general 
 meddler. 
 
 N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring province. 
 
 The Bitsy-Body.No. IV 
 
 Nequid nini u. 
 
 In my first paper, I invited the learned and the inge 
 nious to join with me in this undertaking; and I now re 
 peat that invitation. I would have such gentlemen take 
 this opportunity (by trying their talent in writing) of divert 
 ing themselves and friends, and improving the taste of the 
 town. And because I would encourage all wit of our own 
 
152 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 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 bor 
 rowed from any other author), T shall receive it with can 
 dour, and take care to place it to the best advantage. It 
 will be hard, if we cannot muster up in the whole country a 
 sufficient stock of sense to supply the Busy-Body at least 
 for a twelvemonth. For my own part, 1 have already pro 
 fessed, that I have the good of my country wholly at heart 
 in this design, without the least sinister view; my chief pur 
 pose being- to inculcate the noble principles of virtue, and 
 depreciate vice of every kind. But as I know the mob hate 
 instruction, and the generality would never read beyond 
 the first line of my lectures, if -they were actually filled with 
 nothing but wholesome precepts and advice, I must there 
 fore sometimes liumour them in their own way. There are 
 a set of great names in the province, who are the common 
 objects of popular dislike. If I can now and then over 
 come my reluctance, and prevail with myself to satirize a 
 little one of these gentlemen, the expectation of meeting 
 with such a gratification will induce many to read me 
 through, who would otherwise proceed immediately to the 
 foreign news. As I am very well assured the greatest men 
 among us have a sincere love for their country, notwith 
 standing its ingratitude, and the insinuations of the envious 
 and malicious to the contrary, so I doubt not but they will 
 cheerfully tolerate me in the liberty I design to take for the 
 end 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 s<?x, and be 
 cause I have myself oftentimes suffered under the grievance 
 therein complained of. 
 
BUSY-BODY. 153 
 
 " To the Busy-Rody. 
 
 " SIR, 
 
 " You having set yourself up for a censuror morum (as 
 I think you call it) which is said to mean a reformer of 
 manners, I know no person more proper to be applied to 
 for redress in all the grievances we suffer from want of man 
 ners in some people. You must know, I am a single wo 
 man, and keep a shop in this town for a livelihood. There 
 is a certain neighbour of mine, who is really agreeable com 
 pany enough, and with whom I have had an intimacy of 
 some time standing; but of late she makes her visits so ex 
 ceedingly often, and stays so very long every visit, that 1 
 am tired out of all patience. I have no manner of time at 
 all to myself; and you, who seem to be a wise man, must 
 needs be sensible, that every person has little secrets and 
 privacies, that are not proper to be exposed even to the 
 nearest friend. Now I cannot do the least thing in the 
 world, but she must know about it; and it is a wonder I 
 have found an opportunity to write you this letter. My 
 misfortune is, that I respect her very well, and know not 
 how to disoblige her so much as to tell her, I should be 
 glad to have less of her company ; for if I should once hint 
 such a thing, lam afraid she would resent it so as never to 
 darken my door a gain. But alas, Sir, I have not yet told 
 you half my affliction. She has two children that are just 
 big enough to run about and do pretty mischief: these are 
 continually along with mamma, either in my room or shop, 
 if I have ever so many customers or people with me about 
 business. Sometimes they pull the goods oft" my low shelves 
 down to the ground, and perhaps where one of them has 
 just been making water. My friend lakes up the stuff, 
 and cries, " Oh ! thou little wicked mischievous rogue ! 
 But, however, it has done no great damage, it is 
 
BUSY-BODY. 
 
 only wet a little ;" and so puts it up upon the shelf again. 
 Sometimes they get to my cask of nails behind the coun 
 ter, and divert themselves, to my great vexation, with mix 
 ing my ten-penny, and eight-penny, and four-penny toge 
 ther. I endeavour to conceal my uneasiness as much as 
 possible, and with a grave look go to sorting them out. 
 She cries, " Don t thee trouble thyself, neighbour. Let 
 them play a little ; I ll put all to rights before I go." But 
 things are never so put to rights but that T find a great 
 deal of work to do after they are gone. Thus, Sir, I have 
 all the trouble and pesterment of children, without the plea 
 sure of calling them my own ; and they are now so used to 
 being here that they will be content no where else. If she 
 would have been so kind as to have moderated her visits 
 to ten times a day, and staid but half an hour at a time, I 
 should have been contented, and I believe never have given 
 you this trouble. But this very morning they have so tor 
 mented me that I could bear no longer; for while the mo 
 ther was asking me twenty impertinent questions, the 
 youngest got to my nails, and with great delight rattled 
 them by handfuls all over the floor; and the other at the 
 same time made such a terrible din upon my counter with 
 a hammer, that I grew half distracted. I was just then 
 about to make myself a new suit of pinners, but in the fret 
 and confusion I cut it quite out of all manner of shape, 
 and utterly spoiled a piece of the first muslin. Pray, Sir, 
 tell me what I shall do. And talk a little against such un 
 reasonable visiting in your next paper : though I would 
 not have her affronted with me for a great deal, for sin 
 cerely I love her and her children, as well, I think, as a 
 neighbour can, and she buys a great many things in a year 
 at my shop. But I would beg her to consider, that she 
 uses me unmercifully, though I believe it is only for 
 want of thought. But I have twenty things more to 
 toll you besides all this : there is a handsome gentleman 
 
BUSY-BODY. 155 
 
 that has a mind (I don t question) to make love to me ; but 
 
 he can t get the opportunity to O dear, here she comes 
 
 again; I must conclude, 
 
 " Your s, &c. 
 
 PATIENCE." 
 
 Indeed, it is well enough, a& it happens, that she is 
 come to shorten this complaint, which I think is full long 
 enough already, and probably would otherwise have been 
 as long again. However, I must confess, I cannot help 
 pitying my correspondent s case, and in her behalf, exhort 
 the visitor to remember and consider the words of the wise 
 man, withdraw thy foot from the house of thy neighbour, 
 lest he grow weary of thee and so hate thee. It is, I be 
 lieve, a nice thing and very difficult, to regulate our visits 
 in such a manner, as never to give offence by coming too 
 seldom, or too often, or departing too abruptly, or staying 
 too long. However, in my opinion, it is safest for most 
 people, in a general way, who are unwilling to disoblige, to 
 visit seldom, and tarry but a little while in a place ; not 
 withstanding pressing invitations, which are many times in 
 sincere. And though more of your company should be 
 really desired ; yet in this case, too much reserveduess is a 
 fault more easily excused than the contrary. 
 
 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 impertinencies do we daily suiler 
 with great uneasiness^ because we have not courage 
 enough to discover our dislike ? And why may not a man 
 use the boldness and freedom of telling his friends, that 
 their long visits sometimes incommode him? On this oc 
 casion, it may be entertaining to some of my readers, if 1 
 acquaint them with the Turkish manner of entertaining vi 
 sitors, which I have from an author of unquestionable vc- 
 
150 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 racity ; who assures, that even the Turks are not so igno 
 rant of civility and the arts of endearment, but that they can 
 practise them with as much exactness as any other nation, 
 whenever they have a mind to show themselves obliging. 
 
 " When you visit a person of quality (says he) and have 
 talked over your business, or the compliments, or what 
 ever concern brought you thither, he ma^es a sign to have 
 things served in for the entertainment, which is generally a 
 little sweetmeat, a dish of sherbet, and another of coffee; 
 all which are immediately brought in by the servants, and 
 tendered to all the guests in order, with the greatest care 
 and awfulness imaginable. At last comes the finishing 
 part of your entertainment, which is, perfuming the beards 
 of the company : a ceremony which is performed in this 
 manner. They have for the purpose a small silver chaffing 
 dish, covered with a lid full of holes, and fixed upon a 
 handsome plate. In this they put some fresh coals, and 
 upon them a piece of lignum aloes, and shutting it up, the 
 smoke immediately ascends with a grateful odour through 
 the holes of the cover. This smoke is held under every 
 one s chin, and offered as it were a sacrifice to his beard. 
 The bristly idol soon receives the reverence done to it, and 
 so greedily takes in and incorporates the gummy steam, 
 that it retains the savour of it, and may serve for a nosegay 
 a good while after. 
 
 " This ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first 
 hearing; but it passes among the Turks for an high gra 
 tification. And I will say this in its vindication, that its 
 design is very wise and useful. For it is understood to 
 give a civil dismission to the visitants, intimating to them, 
 that the master of the house has business to do, or some 
 other avocation, that permits them to go away as soon as 
 they please ; and the sooner after this ceremony the better. 
 By this means you may, at any time, without offence, de 
 liver yourself from being detained from your affairs by 
 
BUSY-BODY. 157 
 
 tedious and unseasonable visits ; and from being constrained 
 to use that piece of hypocrisy, so common in the world, of 
 pressing those to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in 
 your heart you wish a great way off for having troubled you 
 so long already." 
 
 Thus far my author. For my own part, I have taken 
 such a fancy to this Turkish custom, that for the future I 
 shall put something like it in practice. I have provided a 
 bottle of right French brandy for the men, and citron water 
 for the ladles. After I have treated with a dram, and 
 presented a pinch of my best snuff, I expect all company 
 will retire, and leave me to pursue my studies for the good 
 of the public. 
 
 Advertisement. 
 
 I give notice, that I am now actually compiling, and de 
 sign to publish in a short time, the true history of the rise, 
 growth, and progress of the renowned Tiff Club. All per 
 sons who are acquainted with any facts, circumstances, 
 characters, transactions, &c. which will be requisite to the 
 perfecting and embellishment of the said work, are desired 
 to communicate the same to the author, and direct their 
 ktters to be left with the printer hereof. 
 
 The letter signed Would-be-something is come to hand. 
 
 The Busy-Body.$o. V. 
 
 os, o patricius sanguis, quo* vivere fas est, 
 Occipiti caeco, posticae occurrite sannae. PERSIUS. 
 
 This paper being designed for a terror to evil doers, as 
 well as praise to them that do well, I am lifted up with se 
 cret joy to find, that my undertaking is approved, and en 
 couraged by the just and good, and that few are against 
 me but those who have reason to fear me. 
 
158 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 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 
 Las no regard to or remedy for : there are likewise great 
 pieces of villany sometimes so craftily accomplished, and 
 so circumspectly guarded, that the law can take no hold of 
 the actors. All these things, and all things of this nature, 
 come within my province as censor, and I am determined 
 not to be negligent of the trust I have reposed in myself, 
 but resolve to execute my office diligently and iaithfully. 
 
 And that all the world may judge withfcow much hu 
 manity, as well as justice, I shall behave in this office ; and 
 that even my enemies may be convinced I take no delight 
 to rake into the dunghill lives of vicious men ; and to the 
 end that certain persons may be a little eased of their fears* 
 and relieved from the terrible palpitations they have lately 
 felt and suffered, and do still suffer ; I hereby graciously 
 pass an act of general oblivion, for all offences, crimes, 
 and misdemeanors of what kind soever, committed from 
 the beginning of the year 1681, until the day of the date 
 of my first paper, and promise only to concern myself with 
 such as have been since and shall hereafter be committed. 
 I shall take no notice who has (heretofore) raised a fortune 
 by fraud and oppression, nor who by deceit and hypocrisy ; 
 what woman has been false to her good husband s bed, nor 
 what man has, by barbarous usage or neglect, broke the 
 heart of a faithful wife, and wasted his health and sub 
 stance in debauchery ; what base wretch has betrayed his 
 friend, and sold his honesty for gold, nor what baser 
 wretch first corrupted him, and then bought the bargain : 
 all this, and much more of the same kind, I shall forget, 
 and pass over in silence ; but then it is to be observed, that 
 I expect and require a sudden and general amendment. 
 
 These threatenings of mine I hope will have a good 
 effect, and, if regarded, may prevent abundance of folly 
 
BUSY-BODY. 1,>9 
 
 and wickedness in others, and, at the same time, save me 
 abundance of trouble: and that people may not Hatter 
 themselves with the hopes of concealing their loose mis 
 demeanors from my knowledge, and in that view persist in 
 evil doing, J must acquaint them, that [ 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. j; y , 
 
 " MR. BUSY-BODY, 
 
 " I rejoice, Sir, at the opportunity you have given me 
 to be serviceable to you, and, by your means, to this pro 
 vince. You must know, that such have been the circum 
 stances of my life, and such were the marvellous con 
 currences of my birth, that I have not only a faculty of dis 
 covering the actions of persons, that are absent or asleep, 
 but even of the devil himself \ in many of his secret 
 workings, in the various shapes, habits, and names of men 
 and women : and having travelled and conversed much, 
 and met but with a very few of the same perceptions and 
 qualifications, I can recommend myself to you as the most 
 useful man you can correspond with. My father s father s 
 father (for we had no grandfathers in our family) was the 
 same John Bunyan that writ that memorable book, The 
 Pilgrim s Progress, who had, in some degree, a natural 
 faculty of second sight. This faculty (how derived to him 
 our family memoirs are not very clear) was enjoyed by all 
 his descendants, but not by equal talents. It was very 
 dim in several of my first cousins, and probably had been 
 nearly extinct in our particular branch, had not my fa 
 ther been a traveller. He lived, in his youthful days, in 
 New England. There he married, and there was born 
 my elder brother, who had so much of this faculty, as to dis- 
 
160 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 cover witches in some of their occult performances. My 
 parents transporting- themselves to Great Britain, my se 
 cond brother s birth was in that kingdom. He shared but 
 a small portion of this virtue, being only able to discern 
 transactions about the time of, and for the most part after, 
 their happening. My good father, who delighted in the 
 Pilgrim s Progress, and mountainous places, took ship 
 ping, 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 se 
 cond sight, in a greater lustre to me, than it had shined in 
 through several generations, I will not here discuss. But 
 so it is, that I am possessed largely of it, and design, if you 
 encourage the proposal, to take this opportunity of doing 
 good with it, which I question not will be accepted of in a 
 grateful way by many of your honest readers, though the 
 discovery of my extraction bodes me no deference from 
 your great scholars and modern philosophers. This my 
 father was long ago aware of, and lest the name alone 
 should hurt the fortunes of his children, he, in his shiftings 
 from one country to another, wisely changed it. * 
 
 " Sir, I have^only this further to say, how I may be use 
 ful to you, and as a reason for my not making myself moro 
 known in the world : by virtue of this great gift of nature, 
 second-sightediess, 1 do continually see numbers of men, 
 women, and children, of all ranks, and what they are doing-, 
 while I am sitting in my closet ; which is too great a bur 
 den for my mind, and makes me also conceit, even against 
 reason, that all this host of people can see and observe me, 
 which strongly inclines me to solitude, and an obscure 
 living; and, on the other hand, it will be an ease to me to 
 disburden my thoughts and observations in the way 
 proposed to you, by Sir, your friend and humble ser 
 vant." 
 
BUSY-BODY. rtl 
 
 I conceal this correspondent s name, in my care for his 
 life and safety, and cannot but approve his prudence, ia 
 choosing* to live obscurely. I rememher the fate .of njy 
 jfoor monkey: he had an ill-natured trick of grinning and 
 chattering- at very thing he saw in petticoats : my ignorant 
 country neighbours got & notion, that pug snarled by in 
 stinct at every female who had lost her virginity. This was 
 no sooner generally believed, than he was condemned to 
 death: by whom 1 could never learn ; but he was assassi 
 nated in the night, barbarously stabbed and mangled m a 
 thousand places, and left hanging dead oh one of my gate 
 posts, where I found him the next morning. 
 
 The censor observing, that tlfe itch of scribbling begins 
 to spread exceedingly, and being carefully tender of the 
 reputation of bis country, in point of wit and good sense, 
 has determined to take all mahner of writings in verse or 
 prose, that pretend to either, under his immediate cogni 
 zance ; and accordingly* hereby prohibits the publishing- 
 any such for the future, till they have first passed his ex 
 amination, and received his imprimatur : for which he de 
 mands as a fee only sixpence per sheet. 
 
 N. B. He nevertheless permits to be published, all sa 
 tirical remarks on the Busy-Body, notwithstanding tbe 
 above prohibition, and without examination, or requiring the 
 said fees; which indulgence the small wits, in and about 
 this city, are advised gratefully to accept and acknowledge. 
 
 The gentleman, who calls himself Sirronio, is directed, 
 on receipt of this, to burn his great book of crudities. 
 
 P. S. In compassion to that young man, on account of 
 the great pains he has taken, in consideration of the cha 
 racter I have just received of him, that he is really good 
 natured ; and on condition he shows it to no foreigner, 
 or stranger of sense, I have thought fit to reprieve his 
 said great book of crudities from the flames, till further 
 order. 
 
162 BUSY-BODY; 
 
 Noli me tangere* \ 
 
 I had resolved, when I first commenced this design, ou 
 no account to enter into a public dispute with any man j 
 for I judged it would be equally unpleasant to me and my 
 readers, to sec this paper filled with contentious wrangling, 
 answers, replies, &c. which is a way of writing that is end 
 less, and, at the same time, seldom contains any thing that 
 is either edifying or entertaining. Yet, when such a con 
 siderable man as Mr. finds himself concerned so 
 
 warmly to accuse and condemn me, as he has done in 
 Keimer s last Instructor, I cannot forbear endeavouring 
 to say something in my own defence, from one of the worst 
 of characters that could be given me by a man of worth. 
 But as I have many things of more consequence to oiler 
 the public, I declare, that I will never, after this time, 
 take notice of any accusations, not better supported with 
 truth and reason; much less may every little scribbler, 
 that shall attack me, expect an answer from the Busy- 
 Body, 
 
 The stfrn, of the charge delivered against me, either 
 directly or indirectly, in the said paper, is this : not to men 
 tion the first weighty sentence concerning vanity and ill- 
 nature, and the shrewd intimation, that I am without cha 
 rity, and therefore can have no pretence to religion, I am 
 represented as guilty of defamation and scandal, the 
 diousness of which is apparent to every good man, and the 
 practice of it opposite to Christianity, morality, and com 
 mon justice, and, in some cases, so far below all these, as 
 to be inhuman ; as a blaster of reputations ; as attempting, 
 by a pretence, to screen myself from the imputation of ma- 
 Hce and prejudice ; as using a weapon, which the wiser and 
 better part ef mankind hold in abhorrence ; and as giving 
 treatment which the wiser an<l better part of mankind dislike 
 
BUSY-BODY. 1G3 
 
 oh Ihe same principles, and for the same reason, ds they do 
 assassination, &c. and all this is inferred and concluded 
 from a character I have wrote in my Number III. 
 
 In order to examine the justice and truth of this heavy 
 charge, let us r^cur to that character. And here we may 
 te surprised to find what a trille has raised this mighty cla 
 mour and complaint, this grievous accusation ! The worst 
 thing said of the person, in what is called my gross descrip 
 tion (be he who he will to whom my accuser has applied 
 the character of Creiico) is, that he is a sour philosopher, 
 crafty, but not wise. Few humane characters can be 
 drawn that will not fit some body, in so large a country a* 
 this ; but one would think, supposing I meant Cretico a 
 real person, I had sufficiently manifested my impartiality, 
 when I said v in that very paragraph, that Cretico is not 
 without virtue ; that there are many good tliings^ in him, 
 and many good actions reported of him ; which must bo 
 allowed in all reason, very much to overbalance in his fa 
 vour those worst words, sour tempered, and cunning. 
 Nay, my very enemy and accuser must have been sensible 
 of this, when he freely acknowledges, that he has been se 
 riously 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 taker? from him any more than his 
 money or possessions, at the arbitrary \\i\\ of another, &c. 7 . 
 \ have but this to answer : th* money or possessions, I 
 presume, are nothing to the purpose ; since no man can 
 tlaihi a right either to those or a good name, if he has 
 acted so as to forfeit them. And are not the public the 
 only judges what share of reputation they think proper to 
 allow any man? Supposing I was capable, and had an iu- 
 
 M 2 
 
16*4 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 clination, to draw all the good and bad characters ia 
 America, why should a good man be offended with me (or 
 drawing- good characters ? And if I draw ill ones, can they 
 fit any but those that deserve them I And ought any but 
 such to be concerned that they have their deserts ? I have 
 as great an aversion and abhorrence for defamation and 
 scandal as any man, and would, with the utmost care, avoid 
 being guilty of such base things : besides, I am very sen 
 sible and certain, that if I should make use of this paper 
 to defame any person, my reputation would be sooner hurt 
 by it than his ; and the Busy-Body would quickly become 
 detestable ; because, in such a case, as is justly observed* 
 the pleasure arising from a tale of wit and novelty soon 
 dies away in generous and honest minds, and is followed 
 with a secret grief, to see their neighbours calumniated. 
 But if I myself was actually the worst man in the province, 
 and any one should draw my true character, would it not 
 be ridiculous in me to say, he had defamed and scan 
 dalized me, unless he had added in a matter of truth 1 If 
 #ny thing is meant by asking, why any man s picture should 
 be published whioit he never sat for? it must be, that we 
 should give no character without the owner s consent. If 
 I discern the wolf disguised in harmless wool, and con* 
 triving the destruction of my neighbour s sheep, must I 
 have his permission, before I am allowed to discover and 
 prevent him? If 1 know a man to be a designing knave, 
 must I asli his consent, to bid my friends beware of him ? 
 If so, then, by the same rule, supposing the Busy -Body 
 bad really merited all his enemy had charged him with, his 
 consent likewise ought to have been obtained, before so 
 terrible an accusation was published against him. 
 
 I shall conclude with observing, that in the last para 
 graph save one of the piece now examined, much ill -nature 
 t and some g s ood sense are co-inhabitants (as he expresses 
 it). The ill-nature appears, in his endeavouring to discover 
 
BUSY-BPDT. 
 
 sUtirc, where I intended no such thing, but quite the re 
 verse : the good sense is this, that drawing too good tf 
 character of any one is a refined manner of satire, that 
 may be as injurious to him as the contrary, by bringing on 
 an examination that undresses the person, and in the haste 
 of doing it, he- may happen to be stript of what he really 
 owns and deserves. As I am censor, I might punish the 
 firs*t, but I forgive it. Yet I will not leave the latter un 
 rewarded ; but assure my adversary, 4 hat in consideration, 
 of the merit of those four lines, I am resolved to forbear 
 injuring him on any account in that refined manner. 
 
 I thank my neighbour P W Ifor his kind 
 
 tter. 
 
 The lions complained of shall be muzzled. 
 
 The Busy-Body. No. VIII 
 
 Quid non mortalia pectora cogis, 
 Auri sacra fames ? VIRCIL. 
 
 One of the greatest pleasures an author can have, is, 
 certainly, the hearing his works applauded. The hiding- 
 from the world our names, while we publish our thoughts, 
 is so absolutely necessary to this self-gratification, that I 
 liope my well-wishers will congratulate me on my escape from 
 the many diligent, but fruitless inquiries, that have of late 
 been made after me. Every man will own, that an author; 
 as such, ought to be hid by the merit of his production^ 
 only; but pride, parly, and prejudice, at this time, run so 
 very h : gh, that experience shows we form our notions oi a 
 piece by the character of the author. Nay, there are some 
 very humble politicians in and about this city, who will ask, 
 on which side the writer is, before they presume to give 
 their opinion of the thing wrote. This ungenerous way 
 
166 v BtfSY-BODY. 
 
 of proceeding 1 was well aware of before I published iny 
 first speculation; and therefore concealed my name. And 
 I appeal to the more generous part of the world, if I have, 
 since I appeared in the character of the Busy-Body, given 
 an instance of my siding with any party more than another, 
 in the unhappy divisions of my country ; and I have, above 
 all, this satisfaction in myself, that neither affection, aver 
 sion, or interest, have biassed me to use any partiality to 
 wards any man, or set of men ; but whatsoever I find 
 nonsensical, ridiculous, or immorally dishonest, I have, 
 and shall continue openly to attack, with the freedom of 
 an honest man, and a lover of my country. 
 
 I profess I can hardly contain myself, or preserve the 
 gravity and dignity that should attend the censorial office, 
 irchen I hear the odd and unaccountable expositions that 
 are put upon some of my works, through the malicious ig 
 norance 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 tedious and impertinent visitants, into a libel 
 on some of the government. This I mention only as a 
 specimen of the taste of the gentleman ; I am, forsooth, 
 bound to please in my speculations, not that I suppose my 
 impartiality will ever be called in question on that account, 
 Injustices of this nature 1 could complain of in many in-r 
 stances ; but I am at present diverted by the reception of 
 a letter, which, though it regards me only in my private ca 
 pacity, as an adept, yet I venture to publish it for the ca- 
 t of ray readers, 
 
BUSY-BODY. 16T 
 
 ** To Censor Morum, Esq. Busy-Body General of tht 
 Province of Pennsylvania, tmd the Counties of New* 
 castle, Kent, and Sussex upon Delaware. 
 
 " HONOURABLE SIR, 
 
 " I judge by your lucubrations, that you are not only * 
 lover oi truth ana equity, but a man of parts and learning^ 
 and a master of science ; as such I honour you. Know, 
 then, most profound Sir, that I have, from my youth up, 
 been a very indefatigable student in, and admirer of, that 
 divine science, astrology. I have read over Scot, Albertu* 
 Magnus, and Cornelius Agrippa, above three hundred 
 times ; and was in hopes, by my knowledge and industry, 
 to gain enough to have recompensed me for my money ex 
 pended, and the time lost in the pursuit of this learning. 
 You cannot be ignorant, Sir (for your intimate second- 
 sighted correspondent knows all things), that there 
 are large sums of money hidden under ground in divers 
 places about this town, and in many parts of the country : 
 but alas, Sir, notwithstanding I have used all the means laid 
 down in the immortal authors before mentioned, and when 
 they failed the ingenious Mr. P d 1, with his mercurial 
 wand and magnet, I have still failed in my purpose. This, 
 therefore, I send, to propose and desire an acquaintance 
 \fith you, and I do not doubt, notwithstanding my repeated 
 ill fortune, but we may be exceedingly serviceable to each 
 other in our discoveries ; and that if we use our united en r 
 deavours, the time -will come, when the Busy-Body, hrs 
 second-sighted correspondent, and your very humble ser- 
 yant, will be three of the richest men in the province : and 
 then, Sir, what may we not do ? A word to the wise is 
 iufficient. 
 
 v I conclude with all demonstrable respect, 
 
 " Your s and Urania s votary, 
 
 " TITAN PLEIADES/ 
 
168 BUSY-BODY. 
 
 In the evening after I had received tins letter, I made a 
 visit to my second -sighted friend, and communicated to 
 liim the proposal. When he had read it, he assured rac, 
 that to his certain knowledge, there is not at this time so 
 much as one ounce of silver or gold hid under ground in 
 any part qf this province ; for that the late and present 
 scarcity of money had obliged those, who were living, and 
 knew where they had formerly hid any, to take it up, and 
 use it in their own necessary affairs : and as to all the rest, 
 which was buried by pirates and others in old times, -who 
 were never like to come for it, he himself had long since 
 dug it all up, and.applied it to charitable uses ; and this* he 
 desired me to publish for the general good. For, as he 
 acquainted me, there are among us great numbers of honest 
 artificers and labouring pe.ople, who, fed with a vain hope 
 of growing suddenly rich, negle,ct their business, almost to 
 the mining of themselves and families, and voluntarily en 
 dure abundance of fatigue in a fruitless search after imagi 
 nary hjdg efl, treasure. They wander through the woods 
 and bushes by day, to discover the marks and signs; at 
 midnight they repair to the hopeful spots with spades and 
 pickaxes ; full of expectation* they labour violently, trem 
 bling at the same time in every joint, through fear of cer 
 tain malicious demons, who are said to .haunt and guard- 
 such places. At. length a mighty hole is dug, and perhaps 
 several cartloads of earth thrown out ; but, alas, no cag or 
 iron pot is found ! no seaman s chest crammed with 
 Spanish pistoles, or weighty pieces of eight! Then they 
 conclude, that > through some mistake in the procedure, 
 some rash word spoke, or some rule of art neglected, the 
 guardian spirit had power to sink it deeper into the earth, 
 and convey it out of their reach. Yet, when a man is once 
 thus infatuated, he is so far from being discouraged by ill 
 success, that he is rather animated to double his industry, 
 and will try again and again in a hundred different places, 
 
BUSY-BODY. 1C9 
 
 in hopes at last of meeting 1 with some lucky hit, that shall 
 at once sufficiently reward him for all his expence of time 
 and labour. 
 
 This odd humour of digging for money, through a belief 
 that much has been hid by pirates formerly frequenting the 
 river, has for several years been mighty prevalent among 
 us; insomuch that you can hardly walk half a mile out of 
 the town on any side, without observing several pits dug 
 with that design, and perhaps some lately opened. Men, 
 otherwise of very good sense, have been drawn into thi.s 
 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 me 
 thods of acquiring riches by industry and frugality are 
 neglected or forgotten. There seems to be some peculiar 
 charm in the conceit of finding money; and if the sands of 
 Schuylkil were so much mixed with small grains of gold, 
 that a man might in a day s time, with care and application, 
 get together to the value of half a crown, I make m* 
 question but we should find several people employed tlrere,. 
 that can with ease earn five shillings a day at their proper 
 trades. 
 
 Many are the idle stories told of the private success of 
 some people, by which others are encouraged to proceed ; 
 and^ the astrologers, with whom the country swarms at this 
 time, are either in the belief of these things themselv es, or 
 find their advantage in persuading others to believ e them ; 
 for they are often consulted about the critical times for 
 digging, the methods of laying the spirit, and the like whim 
 sies, which renders them very necessary to, and very much 
 caressed by, the poor deluded money-hunters. 
 
 There is certainly something very bewitching in the pur-* 
 suit after mines of gold and silver and other valuable 
 metals, and many have been ruined by it. A sea-captain 
 ef my acquaintance used to blame the English for envying; 
 
no BUSY-BODY; 
 
 Spain their "mines of silver, and too much despising ot 
 overlooking- the advantages of their own industry and ma 
 nufactures. For my part, says he, I esteem the banks of 
 Newfoundland to be a more valuable possession than the 
 mountains of Potosi ; and when I have been there on the 
 fishing account, have looked upon every cod pulled up into 
 the vessel as a certain quantity of silver ore, which required 
 only carrying to the next Spanish port to be coined into 
 pieces of eight; not to mention the national profit of fitting 
 out and employing- such a number of ships and seamen. 
 Let honest Peter Buckram, who has long-, without success, 
 been a searcher after hidden money, reflect on this, and be 
 reclaimed from that unaccountable folly. Let him con 
 sider, that every stitch he takes when he is on his shop 
 board j* picking up part of a grain of gold, that will in a 
 few days time amount to a pistole ; and let Faber think 
 the same of every nail he drives, or every stroke with his 
 plane. Such thoughts may make them industrious, and of 
 consequence in time they may be wealthy. J5ut how ab 
 surd is it to neglect a certain profit for such a ridiculous 
 whimsey : to spend whole days at the George, in company 
 with an idle pretender to astrology, contriving schemes to 
 discover what was never hidden, auj 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, provided that bo 
 the critical hour) and fatigue themselves with the violent 
 exercise of digging for what they shall never find, and per 
 haps getting a cold that may cost their lives, or at least dis 
 ordering themselves so as to be fit for no business beside 
 for some days after. Surely this is nothing- less than the 
 Biost 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 va/* 
 
THE WAY TO WEALTH. 171 
 
 friable parcf 1 of land ; I assure thee 1 have found a consi 
 derable quantity of gold by digging there; thee mayest do 
 the same ; but thee must carefully observe this, never to 
 dig more than plough-deep." 
 
 The Way to Wealth, as clearly shown in the Preface of 
 an old Pennsylvania Almanac, intitled, Poor Richard 
 Improved. 
 
 COURTEOUS READER, 
 
 I have heard, that nothing giv^s an author so great 
 pleasure, as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. 
 Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by art 
 incident I am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse 
 lately, where a great number of people were collected, at 
 an auction of merchants goods. The hour of the sale not 
 freing come, they were conversing on the badness of the 
 times; and one of the company called to a plain clean old 
 man, with white locks, Pray, Father Abraham, what think 
 you of the times ? Will not these heavy taxes quite ruin 
 the country? How shall we ever be able to pay them? 
 What would you advise us to ? Father Abraham stood 
 stood up, and replied, If you would have my advice, I 
 will give it you in short, " for a word to the wise is enough," 
 as peor Richard says. 1 They joined in desiring him to 
 apeak his mind, and, gathering round him, he proceeded as 
 follows: 
 
 * Friends, says he, * the taxes are, indeed, very heavy, 
 and, if those laid on by the government were the only ones 
 we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but 
 we have many others, and much more grievous to some of 
 Us, We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three 
 times as much by our pride, and four times as much by t>mr 
 
*72 THE WAY TO WEALTH^ 
 
 folly ; and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease 
 or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. However, let us 
 hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us; 
 "God helps them that help themselves," as poor Richard 
 says. 
 
 I. It would be thought a hard government that should 
 tax the people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed 
 in its service : but idleness taxes many of us much more ; 
 sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. 
 " Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour wears, 
 while the used key is always bright," as poor Richard says. 
 " But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for 
 that is the stuff life is made of," as -poor Richard says. 
 How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep ! 
 forgetting, that " the sleeping fox catches no poultry, and 
 that there will be sleeping enough in the grave," as poor 
 Richard says. 
 
 " If time be of all things the most precious, wasting 
 time must be,"" as poor Richard says, "the greatest prodi 
 gality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "lost time is never 
 found again ; and what we call time enough always proves 
 little enough :" let us then up and be doing, and doing to 
 tlie purpose ; so by diligence shall we do more with less 
 perplexity. "Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry 
 all easy; and he that riseth late must trot all the day, and! 
 shall scarce overtake his business at night ; while laziness 
 travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive 
 thy business, let not that drive thee : and early to bed, and* 
 early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," as 
 poor Richard says. 
 
 So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? 
 We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. 
 " Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope will 
 die fasting. There are no gains without "pains ; then help 
 hands, for I have no lands," or, if I have, they are smartly 
 
THE WAY TO WEALTH. J73 
 
 taxed. " He that hath a Iradej hath an estate; and he 
 that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as 
 poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be worked at, 
 and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the 
 office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are indus 
 trious, we shall never starve ; for, " at the working man s 
 house, hunger looks in, but dares not enter". Nor 
 will the bailiff or the constable enter, for " industry 
 pays debts, while despair increaseth them." What though 
 you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left 
 you a legacy, <: diligence is the mother of good luck, and 
 God gives all things to industry. Then plough deep, 
 while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and 
 ,to keep." Work while it is called to-day, for you know 
 not how much you may be hindered to-morrow. " One 
 to-day is worth two to-morrows," as poor Richard says ; 
 and, farther, " never leave that till to-morrow, which you 
 can do to-day ."<, If you were a servant, would you not be 
 ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? Are 
 (jyoii then your own master? Be ashamed to catch your 
 self idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself) 
 your family, your country, and your king. Handle your 
 tools without mittens, remember, " that the cat in gloves 
 catches no mice," as poor Richard says. It is true there 
 is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed ; 
 but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects, for 
 " constant dropping wears away stones; and by. diligence 
 and patience the mouse ate in two the cable ; and little 
 strokes fell great oaks." 
 
 4 Me thinks I hear some of you say, " must a man afford 
 himself no leisure ?" I will tell thee, my friend, what poor 
 Richard says ; " employ thy time well, if thou meanest to 
 gain leisure ; and since thou art not sure of a minute, throw 
 not away an hour." Leisure is time for doing something 
 useful ; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the 
 
174 THE WAY TO WEALT& 
 
 lazy man never; for " a life of leisure and a life of laziness 
 are two things. Many, without labour, would live by their 
 wits only, but they break for want of stock;* whereas in 
 dustry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. " Fly plea 
 sures, and they will follow you. The diligent spinner has 
 a large shift ; and now I hare a sheep and a cow, every 
 body bids me good-morrow." 
 
 II. But with our industry we must likewise be steady, 
 settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our 
 own eyes, and not trust too much to others ; for, as poor 
 Richard says, 
 
 " I never saw an oft-removed tree, 
 j :; . Nor yet an oft-removed family, 
 
 That throve so well as those that settled be." 
 And again, " three removes are as bad as a fire ;" and 
 again, " keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;" and 
 again, ".if you would have your business done, go ; if not, 
 send." And again, 
 
 " He that by the plough would thrive, 
 Himself must either hold or drive." 
 
 And again, " the eye of a master will do more work tha* 
 both his hands ;" and again, " want of care does us more 
 damage than want of knowledge ;" and again, " not to 
 oversee workmen, is to leave them your purse open." 
 Trusting too much to others care is the ruin of many ; for, 
 " in the affairs of the world, men are saved, not by faith, 
 but by the want of it;" but a man s own care is profit 
 able ; for, " if you would have a faithful servant, and one 
 you like, serve yourself. A little neglect may breed great 
 mischief; for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want 
 of a shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a horse the 
 rider was lost," being overtaken and slain by the enemy; 
 all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. 
 
 III. So much for industry my friends, and attention 
 to one s own business ; but to these we must add frugality, 
 if Ave would make o-ur industry more successful. A man 
 
THE WAY TO WEALTH 175 
 
 may, if he knows not how to save as he gels, " keep his 
 nose all his lite to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat 
 at last. A fat kitchen makes a lean will ;"^and 
 
 44 Many estates arc spent in the getting, 
 
 Since womeu for tea forsook spinning and knitting, 
 Aud men for punch forsook hewing and splitting." 
 
 * If you wopld be wealthy, think of saving, as well as ol 
 getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because 
 her outgoes are greater than her incomes." 
 
 * Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will 
 not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, 
 heavy taxes, and chargeable families ; for 
 
 " Women and wine, $amc and decent, 
 Make the wealth small, and the want great." 
 
 And farther, " what maintains one vice, would bring up 
 two children^ You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, 
 or a little punch now and then, diet a little more costly, 
 clothes a little finer, and a little entertainment now and 
 then, can be no great matter ; but remember, " muny a 
 little makes a mickle." Beware of little expenses ; " a 
 small leak will sink a great ship," as poor Richard says ; 
 iind again, " who damtics love, shall beggars prove ;" and 
 moreover, " fools make feasts, and wise men eat them." 
 
 Here you are all got together to this sale of fineries 
 and knick-nacks. You call them goods ; but, if you do 
 not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. You 
 expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may, for 
 less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for them; 
 they must be dear to you. Remember what poor Richard 
 says, " buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou 
 shalt sell thy necessaries." And again, " at a great penny 
 worth pause a while." He means, that perhaps the cheap 
 ness is apparent only, and not real ; or the bargain, by 
 straitening tbee in thy business, may do thee more h^trm 
 tlian good. For in another place he says, * many have 
 
176 THE WAY TO WEALTH. 
 
 been ruined by buying good penny-worths." Again, " it 
 is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance ; ft 
 and yet this folly is practised every day at auctions, ibr 
 want of minding the almanack. Many a one, for the Sake of 
 finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly, and half 
 starved their families ; " silks and sattius, scarlet and vel 
 vets, put out the kitchen fire," as poor Richard says. 
 These are not the necessaries of life, they can scarcely be 
 called the conveniences ; and yet, only because they look 
 pretty, how many want to have them? By these and other 
 extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and 
 forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but 
 who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their 
 standing ; in which case it appears plainly, that " a plough 
 man on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees," 
 as poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small 
 estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; 
 they think " it is day, and never will be night ;" that a little 
 to be spent out of so much is not worth minding ; but 
 " always taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, 
 soon comes to the bottom," as poor Richard says ; and 
 then, " when the well is dry, they know the worth of 
 water." But this they might have known before, if they 
 had taken his advice : " if you would know the value of 
 money, go and try to borrow some ; for he that goes a bor 
 rowing goes a sorrowing," as poor Richard says ; and in 
 deed so does he tbat lends to such people, when he goes to 
 get it in again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says, 
 " Fond pride of d?ess is sure a very curse, 
 Ere fancy you consult, consult your pufae.* 
 
 And again, " pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great 
 deal more saucy." When you have bought one thing fine, 
 you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all 
 of a piece ; but poor Dick says, " it is easier to suppress 
 the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it :" and it is as 
 
THE WAY TO WEALTH. 177 
 
 truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to 
 swell, in order to equal the ox. 
 
 " Vessels large may venture more, 
 
 But little boats should keep near shore.** 
 
 It is, however, a folly soon punished; for> as poor Richard 
 says, " pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt ; 
 pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty > and 
 supped with infamy." And, after all, of what use is tins 
 pride of appearance, for which so much is risked^ so mucn 
 is suffered? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain; it 
 makes no increase of merit in the person ; it creates envy, 
 it hastens misfortunes. 
 
 But what madness must it be to run in debt for these 
 superfluities ! W^e are offered, by the terms of this sale, 
 six months credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some ot 
 us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, 
 and hope now to be fine without it. Bat ah ! think what 
 you do when you run in debt; you give to another power 
 over your liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will 
 be ashamed to see your creditor, you will be in fear when 
 you speak to him, you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking 
 excuses, and, by degrees, come to lose your veracity, and 
 sink into base, downright lying ; for, " the second vice is 
 lying, the first is running in debt," as poor Richard says ; 
 and again, to the same purpose, " lying rides upon debt s 
 back ;" whereas a free-born Englishman ought not to be 
 ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. But 
 poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. " It 
 is hard for an empty bag to stand upright." What would 
 you think of that prince, or of that government, who should 
 issue an edict, forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or 
 gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or . servitude ? 
 Would you not say, that you were free, have a right to 
 dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a 
 
MS THE WAY TO WEALTH. 
 
 breach of your privileges, and such a government tyranni 
 cal ? And yet you are about to put yourself under that 
 tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress ! Your ere- 
 ditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your 
 liberty, by confining you in gaol for life, or by selling you 
 for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him. When 
 you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little 
 of payment; but, as poor Richard says, "creditors hare 
 better memories than debtors ;" creditors are a supersti 
 tious sect, great observers of set days and times." The 
 day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is 
 made before you are prepared to satisfy it ; or, if you bear 
 your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long, 
 will, as it lessens, appear extremely short : time will seem 
 to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. 
 Those have a short lent, who owe money to be paid at 
 Easter." At present, perhaps, you may think yourselves 
 in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little 
 extravagance without injury; but 
 
 " For age and want save while you may, 
 No morning sun lasts a whole day." 
 
 Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you 
 live, expense is constant and certain ; and, " it is easier to 
 build two chimneys, than to keep one in fuel," as poor 
 Richard says : so, " rather go to bed supperless than pise 
 in debt." 
 
 " Get what you can, and what ycni get hold, 
 Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold." 
 
 And when you have got the philosopher s stone, sure you 
 will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of 
 paying taxes. 
 
 IV. This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom : 
 but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own in 
 dustry, and frugality, and prudence, though excellent 
 things ; for they may all be blasted, without the blessing 
 
THE WAY TO WEALTH. 179 
 
 from heaven ; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and 
 be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want 
 it, but comfort and help them. J^emember Job suffered, 
 and was afterwards prosperous. 
 
 And now, to conclude, " experience keeps a dear 
 school, but fools will learn in no other," as poor Richard 
 says, and scarce in that; for, it is true, " we may give ad 
 vice, but we cannot give conduct :" however, remember this, 
 "they -that will not be counselled cannot be helped;" and 
 farther, that " if you will not hear reason, she will surely 
 rap your knuckles," as poor Richard says. 
 
 Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The 
 people heard it and approved the doctrine ; and immedi 
 ately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a com 
 mon sermon, for the auction opened, and they began to 
 buy extravagantly. I found the good man had thoroughly 
 studied my almanacks, and digested all I had dropt oh 
 those topics during the course of 25 years. The frequent 
 mention he made of me must have tired any one else; but 
 my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I was 
 conscious, that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my 
 own, which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings 
 that I had made of the sense of all ages and nations. How 
 ever, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, 
 though I had at first determined to bfly stuff for a new coat, 
 I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer. 
 Keader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great 
 as mint. 
 
 I am, as ever, 
 
 Thine to serve thee, 
 
 RICHARD SAUNDERS, 
 
180 ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN, 
 
 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 ha? 
 been of service to rne, and may, if observed, be so to you. 
 
 Remember, that time is money, He, that can earn ten 
 shillings a day by his labour, and goes abroad, or sits idle 
 one half of that day, though he spends but sixpence during 
 his diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only 
 expense ; he has really spent, or rather thrown away, five 
 shillings besides. 
 
 Remember, that credit is money. If a man lets his mo 
 ney lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the interest, 
 or so much as I can make of it, during that time. This 
 amounts to a considerable sum where a man has good and 
 large credit, and makes good use of it. 
 
 Remember, that money is of a prolific generating nature. 
 Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, 
 and so on. Five shillings turned is six, turned again it is 
 seven and three-pence, and so on till it becomes an hun 
 dred 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 de 
 stroys 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 
 tir expense unperceived) a man of credit may, on his own 
 security, have the constant possession and use of an hun 
 dred pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an in 
 dustrious man, produces great advantage. 
 
 Remember this saying, " the good paymaster is lord of 
 another man s purse." He that is known to pay punctually 
 
ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN. 181 
 
 and exactly to the time he promises may at any time, and on 
 any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This 
 is sometimes of great use. After industry and frugality, 
 nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in 
 the world than punctuality and justice in all his dealings : 
 therefore, never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the 
 time you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your 
 friend s purse for ever. 
 
 The most trifling actions that affect a man s credit are to 
 be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the 
 morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him 
 easy six months longer: but if he sees you at a billiard 
 table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should b 
 at work, he sends for his money the next day; demands it 
 before he can receive it in a lump. 
 
 It shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe ; 
 it makes you appear a careful as well as an honest man, 
 and that still increases your credit. 
 
 Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and of 
 living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who 
 have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account 
 for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If 
 you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will 
 have this good eftect : you will discover how wonderfully 
 *pmall trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will 
 discern what might have been and may for the future be 
 saved, without occasioning any great inconvenience. 
 
 In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as 
 the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, ir^r 
 dustry andfrugaliti/ ; that is, waste neither time nor money, 
 but make the best use of both. Without industry and fru 
 gality nothing will do, and with them every thing. He that 
 gf ts all he can honestly, and saves all he gets (necessary 
 expenses excepted) will certainly become rich if that 
 Being- who governs the world, to whom all should look for 
 
182 NECESSARY HINTS. 
 
 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 in having- 
 money. 
 
 For six pounds a year you may have the use of one 
 hundred pounds, provided you are a man of known pru 
 dence and honesty. 
 
 He that spends a groat a day idly, spends idly above six 
 pbunds a year, which is the price for the use of one hundred 
 pounds, 
 
 He that wastes idly a great s worth of his time per day, 
 one day with another, wastes the privilege of using one 
 hundred pounds each day. 
 
 f He that idly loses five shillings worth of time, loses five 
 shillings, and might as prudently throw five shillings into 
 the sea. * 
 
 He that loses five shillings, not only loses that sum, but 
 all the advantages that might be made by turning it in 
 dealing, which, by the time that a young man becomes old, 
 will amount to a considerable sum of money. 
 
 Again : he that sells upon credit, asks a price for what 
 he sells equivalent to the principal and interest of his mo 
 ney for the time he is to be kept out of it; therefore, he 
 that buys upon credit, pays interest for what he buys, and 
 he that pays ready money, might.let that money out to use ; 
 so that he that possesses any thing he has bought, pays in^ 
 ferest for the use of it. 
 
 Yet, in buying goods, it is -best to pay ready money, be* 
 
WAY TO MAKE MONEY PLENTY. 183 
 
 cause he that sells upon credit expects to lose five percent, 
 by bad debts ; therefore he charges, on all he sells upon 
 credit, an advance, that shall make up that deficiency. 
 
 Those who pay for what they buy upon credit, pay their 
 share of this advance. 
 
 He that pays ready money, escapes, or may escape, that 
 
 charge. 
 
 A penny sav d is two-pence clear, 
 A pin a day s a groat a year. 
 
 The way to make Money Plenty in every Man s Pocket. 
 
 At this time, when the general complaint is, that " mo 
 ney 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 al- 
 ways full. Two simple rules, well observed, will do the 
 business. 1 
 
 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 with the empty belly-ache : nei 
 ther will creditors insult thee, nor want oppress, nor hunger 
 bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. The whole hemisphere 
 will shine brighter, and pleasure spring up in every corner 
 of thy heart. Now, therefore, embrace these rules and be 
 happy. Banish the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, 
 and live independent. Then shalt thou be a man, and not 
 hide thy face at the approach of the rich, nor suffer the 
 pain of feeling little when the sons of fortune vsalk at thy 
 right hand : for independency, whether with little or much, 
 v> owJ fortune pnd jpla.ceth ihee on ^YCD ground witK lUfr 
 
184 NEW MODE OF LENDING MONEY. 
 
 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 evening hour for rest. Let honesty 
 be as the breath of thy soul, aud never foget to have a 
 penny when all thy expenses are enumerated and paid 
 then shalt thou reach the point of happiness, and inde 
 pendence shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and 
 crown ; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor stoop to the 
 silken wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse 
 because the hand which offers it wears a ring set with 
 diamonds. 
 
 New Mode of Lending Money. 
 I 
 
 Paris, April 22, 1784/ 
 
 I send you herewith a bill for ten louis d ors. I do not 
 pretend to give such a sum. I only lend it to you. When 
 you shall return to your country, you cannot fail getting into 
 some business, that will in time enable you to pay all your 
 debts. In that case, when you meet with another honest 
 man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending this 
 sum to him, enjoining him, to discharge the debt by a like 
 operation, when he shall be able, and shall meet with such 
 another opportunity. I hope it may thus go through many 
 hands before it meet with a knave to stop its progress. 
 This is a trick of mine for doing a good deal with a little 
 money, I am not rich enough to afford much in good 
 works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the 
 most of a little, 
 
 B, FRANKLIN; 
 
ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 185 
 
 An Economical Project. { . r > 
 TO THE AUTHORS OF THE JOURNAL. 
 
 MESSIEURS, 
 
 You often entertain us with accounts of now discoveries, 
 Permit me to communicate to the public, through your 
 paper, one that has lately been made by myself and which 
 I conceive may be of great utility. 
 
 I was the other evening in a grand company, where the 
 new lamp of Messrs. Quinquet and Lange was introduced, 
 and much admired for its splendour; but a general inquiry 
 was made, whether the oil it consumed was not in propor 
 tion 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 [ex 
 pense of lighting our apartments, when every other article 
 of family expense was so much augmented. 
 
 I was pleased to see this general concern for economy, 
 for I love economy exceedingly. 
 
 I I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after mid 
 night, with my head full of the subject. An accidental 
 sudden noise waked me about six in the morning, when 
 I was surprised to find my room filled with light; and I 
 imagined, at first, that a number of those lamps had been 
 brought into it: but, rubbing my eyes, I perceived the 
 light came in at the windows. I got up and looked out to 
 see what might be the occasion of it, when I saw the sun 
 just rising above the horizon, from whence he poured his 
 rays plentifully into my chamber, my domestic having" 
 negligently omitted the preceding evening to close the 
 shutters. 
 
 I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and found 
 that it was but six o clock ; and still thinking it something 
 
186 ECONOMICAL PROJECf 
 
 extraordirary, that the sun should rise so early, I looker! 
 into the almanac, where I found it to be the hour given 
 for his rising on that day. I looked forward too, and found 
 he was to rise still earlier every day till towards the end of 
 June ; and that at no time in the year he retarded his rising- 
 so long- as till eight o clock. Your readers, who with me 
 have never seen any signs of sunshine before noon, and 
 seldom regard the astronomical part of the almanac, will 
 be as mnch astonished as I was, when they hear of his 
 rising so early ; and especially when I assure them, that lie 
 gives light as soon as he rises. 1 am convinced of this. I 
 am certain of my fact. One cannot be more certain of any 
 fact. I saw it with my own eyes. And, having repeated 
 this observation the three following mornings, I found al 
 ways precisely the same result. 
 
 Yet so it happens, that when I speak of this discovery to 
 others, I can easily perceive by their countenance, though 
 they forbear expressing it in words, that they do not quite 
 believe me. One, indeed, who is a learned natural philo 
 sopher, has assured me, that I must certainly be mistaken 
 as to the circumstance of the light coming into my room ; 
 for it being well known, as he says, that there could be no 
 light abroad at that hour, it follows that none could enter 
 from without ; and that of consequence, my windows being 
 accidentally left open, instead of letting in the light, had 
 only served to let out the darkness: and he used many in 
 genious arguments to shew me how I might, by that means, 
 have been deceived. I own, that he puzzled me a little, 
 but he did not satisfy me ; and the subsequent observations 
 I made, as above mentioned, confirmed me in my first 
 opinion. 
 
 This event has given rise in my mind to several serious and 
 important reflections. I considered that, if I had not been 
 awakened so early in the morning, I should have slept six 
 {jours logger by the light of the sun, and in exchange have 
 
ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 187 
 
 lived six hours the following- night by candlelight ; and the 
 latter being a much more expensive light than the former, 
 my love of economy induced me to muster up what little 
 arithmetic I was master of, and to make some calculations, 
 which I shall give you, after observing that utility is, in 
 my opinion, the test of value in matters of invention, and 
 that a discovery which can be applied to no use, or is not 
 good for something, is good for nothing. 
 
 I took for the basis of my calculation the supposition 
 that there are 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 moderate allowance, 
 taking one family with another ; for though I believe some 
 consume less, I know that many consume a great deal 
 more. Then estimating seven hours per day, as the me 
 dium quantity between the time of the sun s rising and 
 ours, he rising during the six following months from six to 
 eight hours before noon, and there being seven hours of 
 course per night in which we burn candles, the account 
 
 will stand thus : 
 
 In the six months between the twentieth of March and 
 
 the twentieth of September, there are 
 
 Nights - - rn?i 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 nuinber of inhabitants, give - - - 126,100,000 
 
 One hundred twenty-eight millions and 
 one hundred thousand hours at Paris by 
 candle-light, which, at half a pound of 
 wax and tallow per hour, gives the 
 height of (14,050,000 
 
188 ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 
 
 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 mil 
 lions and seventy-five thousand livres 
 tournois 96,075,000 
 
 An immense sum ! that the city of Paris might save 
 every year, by the economy of using sunshine instead of 
 candles. 
 
 If it should be said, that people are apt to be obstinately 
 attached to old customs, and that it will be difficult to in 
 duce them to rise before noon, consequently my discovery 
 can be of little use ; I answer, Nil dcsperandum. I be 
 lieve all who have common sense, as soon as they have 
 Jearnt from this paper that it is day-light when the sun 
 rises, will contrive to rise with him ; and, to compel the 
 rest, I would propose the following regulations : 
 1 First. Let a tax be laid of a louis, per window, on 
 every window that is provided with shutters to keep out 
 the light of the sun. 
 
 Second. Let the same salutary operation of police be 
 made use of to prevent our burning candles, that inclined 
 ua last winter to be more economical in burning wood ; 
 that is, let guards be placed in the shops of the wax and 
 tallow chandlers, and no family be permitted to be supplied 
 with more than one pound of candles per week. 
 
 Third. Let guards also be posted to stop all the 
 coaches, &c. that would pass the streets after sun-set, ex 
 cept those of physicians, surgeons, and midwives. 
 
 Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, let all 
 the bells in every church be set ringing; and if that is not 
 sufficient, let cannon be fired in every street, to wake the 
 sluggards effectually, and make them open their eyes to 
 .ee their true interest. 
 
 All the difficulty will be in the first two or three days : 
 
ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 189 
 
 which the reformation will be as natural and easy ag 
 the present irregularity : for, ce nest qiie le premier pas qui 
 coute. Oblige a man to rise at four in the morning, and it 
 is more than probable he shall go willingly to bed at eight 
 in the evening; and, having had eight hours sleep, he will 
 rise more willingly at four the morning following. But this 
 gum of ninety-six millions and seventy-five thousand livres 
 is not the whole of what may be saved by my economical 
 project. You may observe, that I have calculated upon 
 only one half of the year, and much may be saved in the 
 other, though the days are shorter. Bbides, the immense 
 stock of wax and tallow left imconsumed during the sum 
 mer will probably make candles much cheaper for the en 
 suing winter, and continue them cheaper as long as th 
 proposed reformation shall be supported. 
 
 For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely com 
 municated and bestowed by me on the public, I demand 
 neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, nor any other 
 reward whatever. 1 expect only to have the honour of it. 
 Ami yet I know there are little envious minds who will, as 
 usual, deny me this, and say, that my invention was known 
 to the ancients ; and perhaps they may bring passages out 
 of the old books in^ proof of it. I will not dispute with 
 these people, that the ancients knew not the sun would rise 
 at certain hours ; they possibly had, as we have, almanacs 
 that predicted it : but it does not fallow 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 might 
 have been long since forgotten, for it cYrtainly was un 
 known to the moderns, at least to the Parisians, which to 
 prove, I need use but one plain simple argument. They 
 are as well-instructed, judicious, and prudent a people as 
 exist any where in the world, all professing, like myself, to 
 be lovers of economy ; and, from the many heavy taxes re 
 quired from them by the necessities of the state, have surely 
 
THE WHISTLE. 
 
 an abundant reason to be economical. I say it is impos 
 sible, 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. 
 
 The Whistle. 
 
 Passy, Nov. 10, 1779. 
 
 I received my dear friend s two letters, one for Wednes 
 day, and one for Saturday. This is again Wednesday. I 
 do not deserve one lor to-day, because I have not an 
 swered the former. But indolent as I am, and averse to 
 writing, the fear of having no more of your pleasing- 
 epistles, if I do not contribute to the correspondence, ob 
 liges me to take up my pen : and as Mr. B. has kindly sent 
 me word, that he sets out to-morrow to see you ; instead of 
 spending this Wednesday evening, as I have done its name 
 sakes, in your delightful company, I sit down to spend it 
 in thinking of you, in writing to you, and in reading over 
 and over again your letters. 
 
 I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with 
 your plan of living there ; and I approve much of your 
 conclusion, that in the mean time, we should draw all the 
 good we can from this world. In my opinion, we might all 
 draw more good from it than we do, and suffer less evil, if 
 we would but take care not to give too much for whistles. 
 for to me it seems, that most of the unhappy people we 
 meet with, are become so by neglect of that caution. 
 
 You ask what I mean. You love stories, and will ex 
 cuse my telling one of myself. 
 
THE WHISTLE. 191 
 
 When 1 was a child, at seven years old, my friends, on 
 a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly 
 to a shop where they sold toys for children ; and being 
 charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the 
 way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him 
 all my money for it. I then came home, and went whistling* 
 all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but dis 
 turbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cou 
 sins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had 
 given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put 
 me in mind what good things I might have bought with the 
 rest of the money ; and they laughed at me so much for 
 my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection 
 gave me more chagrin, than the whistle gave me plea 
 sure. 
 
 This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impres 
 sion continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was 
 tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, 
 Dorit give too much for the whistle; and so ! 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, sa 
 crificing 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 em 
 ploying himself in political bustles, neglecting his own af 
 fairs, and ruining them by that neglect, He pays, indeed, 
 says T, too much for his whistle. 
 
 If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfort* 
 able living, all the pleasures of doing good to others, all 
 the esteem of his fellow-citizen?, and the joys of benevolent 
 
132 THE WHISTLE. 
 
 friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor 
 man, says I, you par/ too much for your whistle. 
 
 When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every lau 
 dable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere 
 corporeal sensations, and ruining his health in their pur 
 suit, Mistaken man, says I, you are providing pain for 
 yourself, instead of pleasure: you give too much for your 
 whistle. 
 
 If I see one fond of appearance, of fine clothes, fine 
 Louses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, 
 for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, 
 Alas, says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle. 
 
 W r hen I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl, married to 
 an ill-natured brute of a husband, What a pity it is, says f, 
 that she has paid so much for her whistle! 
 
 In short, I conceived, that great part of the miseries of 
 mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates 
 they had made of the value of things, and by their giving 
 too much for their whistles. 
 
 Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, 
 when I consider, that with all this wisdom of which 1 am 
 boasting, there are certain things in the world so tempting, 
 for example, the apples of King John, which happily are not 
 to be bought ; for if they were put to sale by auction, 1 
 might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and 
 find, that I had once more given too much for the whistle. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest friend ; and believe me ever yonra 
 very sincerely and with unalteraj) e affection, 
 
 B. FRANKLIK 
 
PETITION OF THE LEFT HAND. 193 
 
 A Petition to those zcho have the Sitperintendcncy of 
 Education. 
 
 I address myself to all the friends of youth, and conjure 
 them to direct their compassionate regards to my unhappy 
 Pate, in order to remove the prejudices of which I am tlie 
 victim. There are t\vin sisters of us ; and the two eyes of 
 man do not more resemble, nor are capable of being upon 
 better terms with each other, than my sister and myself, 
 were it not for the partiality of our parents, who make the 
 most injurious distinctions between us. From my infancy, 
 I have been led to consider my sister as a being of a more 
 elevated rank. [ was suffered to grow up without the 7 east 
 mstruction, while nothing was spared in her education. 
 She had masters to teach her writing, drawing, music, and 
 other accomplishments; but if by chance I touched a pen 
 cil, 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 of taking the lead, calling upon me only from neces 
 sity, or to figure by her side. 
 
 But conceive not, Sirs, that my complaints are instigated 
 merely by vanity No ; my uneasiness is occasioned by an 
 object much more serious. It is the practice in our fa 
 mily, that the whole business of providing for its sub 
 sistence falls upon my sister and myself. If any indispo 
 sition should attack my sister and I mention it in confi 
 dence 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 ex 
 cessive, at haying placed so great a difference between 
 sisters, who are so perfectly equal? Alas ! we must perish 
 from distress : for it would not be in my power even to 
 
194 HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG. 
 
 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 chil 
 dren equally. 
 
 I am, with a profound respect, Sirs, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 THE LEFT HAND. 
 
 The handsome and deformed Lrg. 
 There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with 
 equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other comforts 
 of life, become, the one happy, and the other miserable. 
 This arises very much from the different yiews in which 
 they consider things, persons, and events ; and the effect 
 of those different views upon their own minds. * 
 
 In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find 
 conveniences and inconveniences ; in whatever company, 
 they may find persons and conversation more or less pleas 
 ing: 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 
 tmd bad laws, and good and bad administration of those 
 laws ; in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may see 
 faults and beauties ; in almost every face, and every per* 
 on, they may discover fine features and defects, good and 
 bad qualities. 
 
 Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people above 
 Mentioned fix their attention, those who are disposed to be 
 happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts of 
 conversation, the well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the 
 
HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG. 105 
 
 wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerful 
 ness. Those, who are to be unhappy, think and speak 
 only of the contraries. Hence they are continually dis 
 contented themselves, and, by their remarks, sour die plea 
 sures 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 imita 
 tion, anjl is unawares grown into a habit, which, though at 
 present strong, may nevertheless be cured, when those 
 who have it are convinced of its bad effects on their feli 
 city ; I hope this little admonition may be of service to 
 them, and put them on changing a habit, which, though in 
 the exercise it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet has se 
 rious consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and 
 misfortunes. For, as many are offended by, and nobody 
 loves, this sort of people, no one shows them more than 
 tiie 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 obtain 
 ing some advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wishes 
 them success, or will stir a step, or speak a word, to fa 
 vour their pretensions. If they incur public censure or 
 disgrace, no one will defend or excuse, and many join to 
 aggravate, their misconduct, and render them completely 
 odious. If these people will not change this bad habit, 
 and condescend to be pleased with what is pleasing, with 
 out fretting themselves and others about the contraries, it 
 is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with them ; 
 v/hich is always disagreeable, and sometimes very incon 
 venient, especially when one finds oneself entangled jn their 
 quarrels. 
 
 An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from ex 
 perience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully 
 
196 MORALS OF CHESS. 
 
 avoided any intimacy with such people. He had, like other 
 philosophers, a thermometer, to show him the heat of the 
 weather, and a barometer, to mark when it was likely to 
 prove good or bad; but there being- no instrument in 
 vented to discover, at first sight, this unpleasing disposi 
 tion in a person, he, for that purpose, made use of his legs ; 
 one of which was remarkably handsome, the other, by some 
 accident, crooked and deformed. If a stranger, at the 
 first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than his hand 
 some one, he doubted him. If he spoke of it, and took 
 no notice of the handsome leg, that was sufficient to deter 
 mine my philosopher to have no further acquaintance with 
 him. Every body has not this two-legged instrument ; but 
 every one, with a little attention, may observe signs of that 
 carping, fault-finding, disposition, and take the same reso 
 lution of avoiding the acquaintance of those infected with 
 it. I therefore advise those critical, querulous, discon 
 tented, unhappy people, that, if they wish to be respected 
 and beloved by others, and happy in themselves, they 
 should leave off looking at the ugly leg. 
 
 Morals of Chess. 
 
 Playing at chess is the most ancient and most universal 
 game known among men ; for its original is beyond the 
 memory of history, and it has, for numberless ages, been 
 the amusement of all the civilised nations of Asia, the 
 Persians, the Indians, and the Chinese. Europe has had 
 it above a thousand years, the Spaniards have spread it 
 over their part of America, and it begins lately to make its 
 appearance in these states. It is so interesting in itself, as 
 not to need the view of gain to induce engaging in it ; i.nd 
 thence it is never played for money. Those, therefore 
 
MORALS OF CHESS. 197 
 
 who have leisure for such diversions, cannot find one that 
 is more innocent; and the following piece, written with a 
 view to correct (among a few young friends) some little im 
 proprieties in the practice of it, shows, at the same time, 
 that it may, in its effects on the mind, be not merely inno 
 cent, hut advantageous, to the vanquished as well as the 
 victor. 
 
 The game of chess is not merely an idlt amusement. 
 Several very valuable qualities of the mind, useful in tho 
 course of human life, are to be acquired or strengthened 
 by it, so as to become habits, ready on all occasions. For 
 life is a kind of chess, in which we have often points to 
 gain, and competitors or adversaries to contend with, and 
 in which there is a vast variety of good and ill events, that 
 are, in some degree, the effects of prudence or the want of 
 it. By playing at chess, then, we may learn, 
 
 I. Foresight, which looks a little into futurity, and con 
 siders the consequences that may attend an action : for it 
 is continually occurring to the player, " If I move this 
 piece, what will be the advantage of my new situation ? 
 What use can my adversary make of it to annoy me ? What 
 other moves can I make to support it, and to defend my>> 
 self from his attacks I" 
 
 II. Circumspection, which surveys the whole chess 
 board, or scene of action, the relations of the several 
 pieces and situations, the dangers they are respectively ex* 
 posed to, the several possibilities of their aiding each other, 
 tire 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 conse 
 quences against him. 
 
 III. Caution, not to make our moves too hastily. This 
 habit is acquired by observing strictly the laws of the game, 
 such as, " If you touch a piece, you must move it some 
 where; if you set it down, you must let it stand;" and it i* 
 
MORALS OF CHESS. 
 
 therefore best that these rules should be observed, as the 
 game thereby becomes more the image of human life, and 
 particularly of war; in which,, if you have incautiously put 
 yourself into a bad and dangerous position, you cannot 
 obtain yr>ur enemy s leave to withdraw your troops, and 
 place them more securely, but you must abide all the con 
 sequences of your rashness. 
 
 And, lastly, we learn by chess the habit of not being dis- 
 couraged by present bad appearances in the state of our 
 <n fairs, the habit of hoping for a favourable change t and 
 that of persevering in the search of resources. The game 
 4s so full of events, there is such a variety of turns in 
 it, the fortune of it is so subject to sudden vicissitudes, 
 and one so frequently, after long contemplation, discovers 
 the means of extricating oneself from a supposed insur 
 mountable difficulty, that one is encouraged to continue 
 the contest to the last, in hopes of victory by our own skill, 
 *r at least of getting a stale mate, by the negligence of 
 tMir adversary. And whoever considers, what in chess 
 lie often sees instances of, that particular pieces of success 
 are apt to produce presumption, and its consequent inat- 
 tefltkm, by which the loss may be recovered, will learn 
 not to be too much discouraged by the present success f 
 his adversary, nor to despair of final good fortune upon 
 every little check he receives in the pursuit of it. 
 
 That we may, therefore, be induced more frequently to 
 choose this beneficial amusement, in preference to others, 
 which are not attended with the same advantages, every 
 tiirc urestance which may increase the pleasures of it should 
 be regarded ; and every action or word that is unfair, dis 
 respectful, or that in any way may give uneasiness, should 
 be avoided, as contrary to the immediate intention of both 
 the players, which is to pass the time agreeably. 
 
 Therefore, first, if it is agreed to play according to the 
 ptrict rules ; then those rules are to be exactly observed 
 
MORALS OF CriESS. 199 
 
 by both parties, and should not be insisted on for one side, 
 while deviated from by the other for this is not equitable. 
 
 Secondly, if it is agreed not to observe the rules exactly, 
 but one party demands indulgences, he should then be as 
 willing to allow them to the other. 
 
 Thirdly, no false move should ever be made to extricate 
 yourself out of difliculty, or to gain an advantage. There 
 can be no pleasure in playing with a person once detected 
 in such unfair practice. 
 
 Fourthly, if your adversary is long in playing, you ought 
 not to hurry him, or express any uneasiness at his delay. 
 You should not sing, nor whistle, nor look at your watch, 
 nor take up a book to read, nor make a tapping with your 
 feet on the floor, or with your fingers on the table, nor do 
 any thing that may disturb his attention. For all these 
 things displease ; and they do not show.your skill in play 
 ing, but your craftiness or your rudeness. 
 
 Fifthly, you ought not to endeavour to amuse and de 
 ceive your adversary, by pretending to have made bad 
 mores, and saying, that you have now lost the game, in or 
 der to make him secure and careless, and inattentive to 
 your schemes: for this is fraud and deceit, not skill in the 
 game. 
 
 Sixthly, you must not, when you have gained a victory, 
 use any triumphing or insulting expression, nor show too 
 much pleasure ; but endeavour to console your adversary, 
 and make him less dissatisfied with himself, by every kind 
 of civil expression, that may be used with truth, such as, 
 " you understand the game better than I, but you are a 
 little inattentive ;" or, " you play too fast ;" or, you had the 
 best of the game, but something happened to divert your 
 thoughts, and that turned it in my favour." 
 
 Seventhly, if you are a spectator while others play, ob 
 serve the most perfect silence. For if you give adyice, 
 you offend both parties ; him against whom you give it, be* 
 
200 MORALS OF CHESS. 
 
 cause it Ufay cause the loss of his game, him in whose fa* 
 vour you give it, because, though it be good and he 
 follows it, he loses the pleasure he might have had, 
 if you had permitted him to think until it had occurred to 
 himself. Even after a move or moves, you must not, by 
 replacing the pieces, show how it might have been placed 
 better : for that displeases, and may occasion disputes and 
 doubts about their true situation. All talking to the 
 players lessens or diverts their attention, and is therefore 
 unpleasing. Nor should you give the least hint to either 
 party, by any kind of noise or motion. If you do, you are 
 unworthy to be a spectator. If you have a mind to exer 
 cise or show your judgment, do it in playing your own 
 game, when you have an opportunity, not in criticising, or 
 meddling with, or counselling the play of others. 
 Lastly, if the game is not to be played rigorously, ac 
 cording to the rules above mentioned, then moderate your 
 ciesire of victory over your adversary, and be pleased with 
 one over yourself. Snatch not eagerly at every advantage 
 offered by his unskilfulness or mattentio,n ; but point out to 
 him kindly, that by such a move he places or leaves a piece 
 in danger arid unsupported ; that by another he will put his 
 king in a perilous situation, &c. By this generous civility 
 (so opposite to the unfairness above forbidden) you may, 
 indeed, happen to lose the game to your opponent, but you 
 will win what is better, his esteem, his respect, and his af 
 fection, together with the silent approbation and 
 of impartial spectators, 
 
TO PROCURE PLEASANT DREAMS. 201 
 
 The Art of procuring Pleasant Dreams. 
 INSCRIBED TO MISS ** 
 
 Being written at her rcqutit. 
 
 As a great part of our life is spent in sleep, during 
 which we have sometimes pleasing and sometimes painful 
 dreams, it becomes of some consequence to obtain the one 
 kind, and avoid the other ; for, whether real or imaginary, 
 pain is pain, and pleasure is pleasure. If we can sleep 
 without dreaming, it is well that painful dreams are avoided. 
 If, while we sleep, we can have any pleasing dreams, it is, 
 as the French say, tant gagne, so much added to the plea- 
 sure of life. 
 
 To this end, it is, in the first place, necessary to be care 
 ful in preservjng health, by due exercise, and great tem 
 perance ; for in sickness, the imagination is disturbed ; and 
 disagreeable, sometimes terrible, ideas are apt to present 
 themselves. Exercise should precede meals, not immedi 
 ately follow them : the first promotes, the latter, unless 
 moderate, obstructs digestion. If, after exercise, we feed 
 sparingly, the digestion will be easy and good, the body 
 lightsome, the temper cheerful, and all the animal functions 
 performed agreeably. Sleep, when it follows, will be na 
 tural and undisturbed ; while indolence, with full feeding, 
 occasions night-mares, and horrors inexpressible: we fall 
 from precipices, are assaulted by wild beasts, murderers, 
 and demons, and experience every variety of distress. 
 Observe, however, that the quantity of food and exercise 
 are relative things : those who move much may, and indeed 
 ought, to eat more; those who use little exercise should 
 eat little. In general, mankind, since the improvement of 
 cookery, eat about twice as much as nature requires. Sup 
 pers are not bad, if we have not dined ; but restless nights 
 naturally follow hearty suppers, after full dinners. Ia 
 
202 TO PitQUftE PLEASANT DREAMS, 
 
 deed, as there is a difference in constitutions, some rest 
 well after these meals ; it costs them only a frightful dream, 
 and an apoplexy, after which they sleep till doomsday. 
 Nothing is more common in the newspapers, than instances 
 of people, who, alter eating- a hearty supper, are found dead 
 a-bed in the morning 1 . 
 
 Another means of preserving- health, to be attended to, 
 is the having a constant supply of fresh air in your bed 
 chamber. It has been a great mistake, the sleeping in 
 rooms exactly closed, and in beds surrounded by curtains. 
 No outward air that may come into you is so unwhole 
 some, as the unchanged air, often breathed, of a close 
 chamber. As boiling water does not grow hotter by longer 
 boiling, if the particles that receive greater heat can 
 escape ; so living bodies do not putrify, ii the particles, as 
 fast as they become putrid, can be thrown off. Nature 
 expels them by the pores of the skin and the lungs, 
 and in a free open air they are carried off; but in a 
 close room, we receive them again and again, though they 
 become more and more corrupt. A number of persons 
 crowded into a small room thus spoil the air in a few mi 
 nutes, 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 lull ; but it is done, however, in propor 
 tion, and many putrid disorders hence have their origin. 
 It is recorded of Methuselah, who, being the longest liver, 
 may be supposed to have best preserved his health, that he 
 lept always in the open air ; for, when he had lived 500 
 years, an angel said to him : - " Arise Methuselah, and 
 build thee an hduse, for thou shalt live yet 500 yeajrs 
 longer." But Methuselah answered and said, " If I am 
 to live but 500 years longer, it is not worth while to build 
 me an house I will sleep in the air, as I have been used 
 to do," Physicians, after having for ages contended, that 
 
TO PROCURE PLEASANT DREAMS. 203 
 
 the sick should not be indulged with fresh air, have at 
 length discovered, that it may do them good. It is there 
 fore to be hoped, that they may in time discover likewise, 
 that it is not hurtful to those who are in health, and that 
 we may be then cured of the aerophobia, that at present 
 distresses weak winds, and makes them chose to be stilled 
 and poisoned, rather than leave open the window of a bed 
 chamber, or put down the glass of a coach. 
 
 Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter*, 
 will not receive more ; and that matter must remain in our 
 bodies, and occasion diseases: but it gives some previous 
 notice of its being about to be hurtful, by producing cer 
 tain uneasinesses, slight indeed at first, such as, with re 
 gard to the lungs, is a trifling sensation, and to the pores 
 of the skin a kind of restlessness, which is difficult to de 
 scribe, and few that feel it know the cause of it. But we 
 may recollect, that sometimes, on waking in the night, wo 
 have, if warmly covered, found it difficult to get asleep 
 again. We turn often without finding repose in any posi 
 tion. This fidgettiness, to use a vulgar expression for want 
 of a better, is occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the 
 skin, owing to the retcnsion of the perspirable matter the 
 bed-clothes having received their quantity, and, being sa 
 turated, 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 ; lie will then 
 feel that part suddenly refreshed; for the air will immedi 
 ately relieve the skin, by receiving, licking up, and carry- 
 
 What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that va 
 pour which passes off from our bodies, from the lungs, and 
 through the. pores of the skin. The quantity of this is said to 
 be five-eighths of what we eat. 
 
204 TO BIIOCURE PLEASANT DRfiAMS, 
 
 ing off, tlie load of perspirable matter that incommoded if. 
 For every portion of cool air, that approaches the warm 
 skin, in receiving- its part of that vapour, receives there 
 with a degree of heat, that rarefies and renders it lighter, 
 when it will be pushed away, with its burden, by cooler 
 and therefore heavier fresh air ; which, for a moment, sup 
 plies its place, and then, being likewise changed and 
 warmed, gives way to a succeeding quantity. This is the 
 order of nature, to prevent animals being infected by their 
 own perspiration. He will now be sensible of the dif 
 ference between the part exposed to the air, and that 
 which, remaining sunk in the bed, denies the air access : 
 for this part now manifests its uneasiness more distinctly 
 by the comparison, and the seat of the uneasiness is more 
 plainly perceived, than when the whole surface of the body 
 was affected by it. 
 
 Here, then, is one great and general cause of unpleasing 
 dreams. For when the body is uneasy, the mind will be 
 disturbed by it, and disagreeable ideas of various kinds 
 will, in sleep, be the natural consequences. The remedies, 
 preventative and curative, follow : 
 
 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 sa 
 turated ; and we may, therefore sleep longer, before we are 
 made uneasy by their refusing to receive any more. 
 
 2. By using thinner and more porous bed-clothes, which 
 will suffer the perspirable matter more easily to pass 
 through them, we are less incommoded, such being longer 
 tolerable. 
 
 3. When you are awakened by this uneasiness, and find 
 you cannot easily sleep again, get out of bed, beat up and 
 turn your pillow, shake the bed-clothes well, with at least 
 twenty shakes, then throw the bed open, and leave it to 
 cool; in the meanwhile, continuing undressed, walk about 
 
TO PROCURE PLEASANT DREAMS. 205 
 
 your chamber, till your skin has had time to discharge it* 
 load, which it will do sooner as the air may be drier and 
 colder. When you begin to leel 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 pre 
 sented to your fancy will be of the pleasing kind. I am 
 often as agreeably entertained with them, as by the scenery 
 of an opera. If you happen to be too indolent to get out 
 of bed, you may, instead of it, lift up your bed-clothes with 
 one arm and leg, so as to draw in a good deal of fresh air, 
 and, by letting them fall, force it out again. This, repeated 
 twenty times, will so clear them of the perspirable matter 
 they have imbibed, as to permit your sleeping well for some, 
 time afterwards. But this latter method is not equal to the 
 former. 
 
 Those who do not love trouble, and can afford to have 
 two beds, will find great luxury in rising, when they wake 
 in a hot bed, and going into the cool one. Such shifting 
 of beds would also be of great service to persons ill of a 
 fever, as it refreshes, and frequently procures sleep. A 
 very large bed, that will admit a removal so distant from 
 the first situation as to be cool and sweet, may in a degree 
 answer the same end. 
 
 One or two observations more will conclude this littla 
 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 in 
 stance, 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 rentier it less tolerable, and the uneasi 
 ness may come on while you are asleep, and disturb your 
 imagination. 
 
 These are the rules of the art. But though they will 
 generally prove effectual in producing the end intended, 
 
206 EARLY IMPRESSIONS ON THE MIND. 
 
 there is a case in which the most punctual observance of 
 them will be totally fruitless. I need not mention the case 
 to you, my dear friend, but my account of the art would be 
 imperfect without it. The case is, when the person, who 
 desires to have pleasant dreams, has not taken care to pre 
 serve, what is necessary above all tilings, 
 
 A GOOD CONSCIENCE. 
 
 TO DR. MATHER OF BOSTON. 
 Effect of Early Impressions on the Mind. 
 
 REV. SIR, 
 
 i received your kind letter, with your excellent advice 
 to the people of the United States, which I read with great 
 pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writ 
 ings, though they may be lightly passed over by many rea 
 ders, yetj if they make a deep impression on one active mind 
 in a hundred, the effects may be considerable. 
 
 Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though 
 it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. 
 When I was a boy, 1 met with a book, entitled, " Essays 
 to do Good," which I think was written by your father. It 
 bad been so little regarded by a former possessor, that 
 several leares of it were torn out ; but the remainder 
 gave me such a turn of thinking, as to have an influence on 
 my conduct through life : for I have always set a greater 
 value on the character of a doer of good, than any other 
 kind of reputation ; and if I have been, as you seem to think, 
 a useful citizen, the public owe the advantage of it to that 
 book. 
 
 You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year. I 
 am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old together. It 
 is now more than sixty years since I left Boston ; but I 
 
EARLY IMPRESSIONS ON THE MIND.. 207 
 
 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 begin 
 ning of 1724, when I visited him after my first trip to 
 Pennsylvania. He received 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 
 overhead. We were still talking as I withdrew, he ac 
 companying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, 
 when he said hastily, " Stoop, stoop!" I, did not under 
 stand him, till I felt my head hit against the beam. He 
 was a man who never missed any occasion of giving in 
 struction ; and upon this he said to me : " You are young, 
 and have the world before you : stoop as you go through 
 it, and you will miss many hard thumps." This advice, 
 thus beat into my heart, has frequently been of use to me : 
 and I often think of it, when I see pride mortified, and 
 misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their 
 heads too high. 
 
 I long much to see again my native place ; and ence 
 hoped to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723. I visited 
 it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763 ; and in 1773, I was in 
 England. In 1775, [ had a sight of it, but could not en 
 ter, it being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to 
 Lave been there in 1783, but could not obtain my dismis 
 sion from this employment here ; and now I fear I shall 
 never have that happiness. My best wishes, however, at 
 tend my dear country, " esto pcrpctna." It is now blessed 
 with an excellent constitution : may it last for ever ! 
 
 This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the 
 United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance 
 to our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Bri 
 tain has not yet well digested the loss of its dominion over 
 us ; and has still at times some flattering hopes of recover 
 ing it Accidents may increase those hopes, and encou- 
 
208 ON EARLY MARRIAGES. 
 
 rage dangerous attempts. A breach bet\v%en us and 
 France would infallibly bring the English again upon our 
 backs : and yet we Lave some wild beasts among our 
 countrymen, who are endeavouring to weaken that con 
 nection. 
 
 Let us preserve our reputation, by performing our en 
 gagements ; our credit, by fulfilling our contracts ; and our 
 friends, by gratitude and kindness : for we know not how 
 soon we may again have occasion for all of them. 
 With great and sincere esteem, 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 Reverend Sir ? 
 Your most obedient and most humble servant, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN, 
 Passy, May 12, 1784. 
 
 , TO JOHN ALLEYNE, ESQ. 
 On early Marriages. 
 
 DEAR JACK, Craven Street, Aug. 9, 1768. 
 
 You desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the sub* 
 iect of an early marriage, by way of answer to the num 
 berless objections, that have been made by numberless 
 persons, to your own. You may remember, when you 
 consulted me on the occasion, that I thought youth on both 
 sides to be no objection. Indeed, from the marriages that 
 have fallen under my observation, I am rather inclined to 
 think, that early ones stand the best chance of happiness. 
 The temper and habits of the young are not yet become so 
 stiff and uncomplying, as when more advanced iu life ; they 
 form more easily to each other, and hence many occasions 
 of disgust arc removed. And if youth has less of that 
 prudence, which is necessary to manage a family, yet the 
 parents and elder friends of young married persons are 
 
ON EARLY MARRIAGES, 209 
 
 generally at hand to allbrd their advice, which amply sup- 
 plies that delect; 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 per 
 sons may possibly sometimes make it prudent to delay en 
 tering into that state ; but in general, when nature has 
 rendered our bodies fit for it, the presumption is in na 
 ture s favour, that she has not judged amiss in making us 
 desire it. Late marriages are oi ten attended, too^ with 
 this further inconvenience, that there is not the same 
 chance that the parents shall live to see their offspring 
 educated. " Late children," says the Spanish proverb > 
 " are early orphans." A melancholy reflection to those 
 whose case it may be ! With us in America, marriages are 
 generally in the morning of life ; our children are therefore 
 educated and settled in the world by noon ; and thus, our 
 business being done, we have an afternoon and evening of 
 cheerful leisure to ourselves, such as our friend at present 
 enjoys. By these early marriages we are blessed with 
 more children; and from the mode among us, founded by 
 nature, of every mother suckling and nursing her own child, 
 more of them are raised. Thence the swift progress of 
 population among us, unparalleled in Europe. In fine, 1 
 am glad you are married, and congratulate you most cor 
 dially 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 in 
 tended it, but who, having too long postponed the change 
 of their condition, find, at length, that it is too late to 
 think of it, and so live all their lives in a situation that 
 greatly lessens a man s value. An odd volume of a set of 
 books bears not the value of its proportion to the set : 
 what think you of the odd half of a pair of scissars ? it can- 
 
210 THE DEATH OF JOHN FRANKLIN. 
 
 not well cut any thing ; it may possibly serve to scrape 
 trencher. 
 
 Pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable 
 to your bride. I am old and heavy, or I should ere this 
 have presented them in person. I shall make but small 
 use of the old man s privilege, that of giving advice to 
 younger friends. Treat your wife always with respect; it 
 will procure respect to you, not only from her, but from ail 
 that observe it. Never use a slighting expression to her, 
 even in jest; for slights in jest, after frequent bandyings, 
 are apt to end in angry earnest. Be studious in your pro 
 fession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and 
 frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and 
 you will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will 
 be happy. At least, you will, by such conduct, stand the 
 best chance for such consequences. I pray God to bless 
 you both ! being ever your affectionate friend, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN, 
 
 "fc TO MISS HUBBARD. 
 
 On the Death of Mr. John Franklin. 
 
 Philadel Feb. 23, 1756. 
 
 I condole with you. We have lost a most "dear and 
 valuable relation. But it is the will of God and nature, 
 that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to 
 enter into real life. This is rather an embryo state/a pre 
 paration for living. A man is not completely born until 
 he be dead. Why then should we grieve, that a new child 
 is born among the immortals, a new member added to 
 their happy society ? We are spirits. That bodies should 
 be lent us, while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in 
 acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow crea 
 tures, is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they 
 
STRIKING EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE. 2U 
 
 become unfit for these purposes, and afford us pain in 
 stead of pleasure, instead of an aid become an incum- 
 brance, and answer none of the intentions for which they 
 were given, it is equally kind and benevolent, that a way 
 is provided by which we may get rid of them. Death i* 
 that way. We ourselves, in some cases, prudently choose 
 a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be 
 restored, we willingly cut off. He, who plucks out a tooth, 
 parts with it freely, since the pain goes with it: and he, 
 \vlio quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and 
 possibilities of pains and diseases, it was liable to, or ca 
 pable 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 
 iitst, and he is gone before us. We could not all conve 
 niently 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 MADAME BRILLIANT. 
 
 The Ephemera an Emblem of human Life. 
 
 You may remember, my dear friend, that when we 
 lately spent that happy day, in the delightful garden and 
 sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I stopt a little in one of 
 our walks, and staid some time behind the company. We 
 had been shown numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, 
 called an ephemera, whose successive generations, we were 
 told, were bred and expired within the day. I happened 
 to see a living company of them on a leaf, who appeared 
 to be engaged in conversation. You know I understand 
 all the infrrior animal tongues : my too great application to 
 
212 STRIKING EMBLEM OF HUMAN" LIFE, 
 
 the study of them is the best excuse I can give for the lit 
 tle progress I have made in your charming language. 1 
 listened through curiosity to the discourse of these little 
 creatures ; but as they, in fheir national vivacity, spoke 
 three or four together, I could make but little of their con 
 versation. I found, however, by some broken expressions 
 that I heard now and then, they were disputing warmly 
 on the merit of two foreign musicians, one a cousin, the 
 other a muscheto ; in which dispute they spent their time, 
 seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life, as if 
 they had been sure of living a month. Happy people t 
 thought I, you live certainly under a wise, just, and mild 
 government, since you have no public grievances to com 
 plain of, nor any subject of contention, but the perfections- 
 or imperfections of foreign music. I turned my head from 
 them to an old grey-lieaded one, who was single on another 
 leaf, and talking to himself. Being amused with his soli 
 loquy, I put it down in writing, in hopes it will likewise 
 amuse her to whom I am so much indebted for the most 
 pleasing of all amusements, her delicious company, and 
 heavenly harmony. 
 
 " It was,** says he, " the opinion of learned philosophers 
 of our race, who lived and flourished long before my time, 
 that this vast world, the Moulin Joly, could not itself sub 
 sist more than eighteen houts : and I think there was some 
 foundation for that opinion ; since, by the apparent motion 
 of the great luminary, that gives life to all nature, and 
 which in my time has evidently declined considerably to- 
 Tvards the ocean at the end of our earth, it must then finish 
 its course, be extinguished in the -waters that surround us, 
 and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessarily 
 producing universal death and destruction. I have lived 
 seven of those hours ; a great age, being no loss than four 
 hundred and twenty minutes of time. How very few of us 
 4ontmue so long ? I have seen generations born, flourish, 
 
STRIKING EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE. 218 
 
 tmd expire. My present Iriends are the children and 
 grand-children of the friends of my youth, who are now, 
 alas, no more ! And I must soon follow them ; for, by the 
 course of nature, though still in health, I cannot expect to 
 Jive above seven or eight minutes longer. What now avails 
 all my toil and labour, in amassing honey-dew on this leaf, 
 which I cannot live to enjoy! What the political struggles 
 I have been engaged in, for the good of my compatriot 
 inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies, for the 
 benefit of our race in general ! for in politics: (what can laws 
 do without morals ?) our present race of ephemerre will in 
 a course of minutes become corrupt, like those of other 
 and older bushes, and consequently as wretched : and in 
 philosophy how small our progress ! Alas ! art is long, and 
 life is short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of 
 a name, they say, I shall leave behind me ; and they tell 
 me, I have lived long enough to nature and to glory. But 
 what will fame be to an ephemera, who no longer exists I 
 and what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour, 
 when the world itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall 
 
 come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin *" 
 
 To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now 
 remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning 
 well, the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephe* 
 merse, and now and then a kind smile and a tune from the 
 ever amiable Brilliant. 
 
 B, FRANKLIN. 
 
214 SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 
 
 Sketch of 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 little art, in his own language, 
 as to be perpetually confounding words of like sound and 
 different significations ; the consciousness of which defect 
 makes some men, otherwise of good learning and uuder^ 
 standing, averse to writing even a common letter. 
 
 Let the pieces read by the scholars in this class be short ; 
 such as Croxal s fables, and little stories. In giving the 
 lesson, let it be read to them ; let the meaning of the dif 
 ficult 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 usual difficult words 
 might be formed for their use, with explanations ; and they 
 
SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 215 
 
 might daily get a few of those words and explanations by 
 heart, which would a little exercise their memories ; or at 
 least they might write a number of them in a small book 
 for the purpose, which would help to fix the meaning- of 
 those words in their minds, and at the same time furnish 
 every one with a little dictionary for his future use. 
 
 The Second Class. 
 
 To be taught reading with attention, and with proper 
 modulations of the voice, according to the sentiments and 
 the subject. 
 
 Some short pieces, not exceeding the length of a Spec 
 tator, 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 scho 
 lars to study them against the morning. Let it then be re* 
 quired of them to give an account, first of the parts of speech, 
 and construction of one or two sentences. This will oblige 
 them to recur frequently to their grammar, and fix its prin 
 cipal rules in their memory. Next, of the intention of the 
 writer, or the scope of the piece, the meaning of each sen 
 tence, and of every uncommon word. This would early ac 
 quaint 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 mo 
 dulations of voice, due emphasis, and suitable action, where 
 action is required; and put the youth on imitating his 
 manner. 
 
 Where the author has used an expression not the best, 
 Jet it be pointed out ; and let his beauties be particularly 
 remarked to the youth. 
 
 Let the lessons for reading be varied, that the youth may 
 be made acquainted with good 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 gene- 
 
216 SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL 
 
 raFs speech to his soldiers, a speech in a tragedy, som 
 part of a comedy, an ode, a satire, a letter, blank verse, 
 Hudibrastic, heroic, &c. 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 
 lime be improved. 
 
 It is required that they should first study and understand 
 the lessons, before they are put upon reading them pro 
 perly ; to which end each boy should have an English dic 
 tionary, to help him over difficulties. When our boys read 
 English to us, we are apt to imaging they understand what 
 they read, because we do, and because it is their mother 
 tongue. But they often read, as parrots speak, knowing 
 Ifttle 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 not first under 
 stand, is the cause of those even set tones, so common 
 among readers, which, when they hare 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 published with a view to in- 
 iiuence the minds of men, lor their own or the public be 
 nefit, lose half their force. Were there but one good 
 reader in a neighbourhood, a public orator might be heard 
 throughout a nation with the same advantages, and have 
 the same effect upon his audience, as if they stood within 
 the reach of his voice. 
 
 The Third Class. 
 
 To be taught speaking properly and gracefully ; which 
 is near 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 
 
SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 217 
 
 tern, so as to be able to give an account 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 improper phrases, be pointed out to them. 
 Short speeches from the Roman, or other history, or from 
 the parliamentary debates, might be got by heart, and de 
 livered with the proper action, &c. Speeches and scenes 
 in our best tragedies and comedies (avoiding every thing 1 
 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 their farther improvement, and a little to vary their 
 studies, let them now begin to read history, after having got 
 by heart a short table of the principal epochas in chrono 
 logy. They may begin with llollin s Ancient and Roman 
 Histories, and proceed at proper 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, by giving, weekly, little prizes or other small encou 
 ragements, to those who are able to give the best account 
 of what they have read, as to time, places, names of per 
 sons, &c. This will make them read with attention, and 
 imprint the history well in their memories. In remarking 
 on the history, the master will have fine opportunities of in 
 stilling instruction of various kinds, and improving t-he mo 
 rals, as well as the understandings, of youth. 
 
 The natural and mechanic history, contained in the 
 Spectacle de la Nature, might also be begun in this class, 
 and continued through the subsequent classes, by other 
 books of the same kind ; for, next to the knowledge of 
 duty, this kind of knowledge is certainly the most useful, 
 as well as the most entertaining. The merchant may. 
 thereby be enabled better to understand many commodities 
 jn trade ; the handicraftsman, to improve his business by 
 
SKETCPI OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 
 
 new instruments, mixtures, and materials; and frequently 
 hints are given for new manufactures, or new methods of 
 improving- land, that may be set on foot greatly to the ad 
 vantage of a country. 
 
 The Fourth Class. 
 
 To oe taught composition. Writing one s own lan 
 guage well, is the next necessary accomplishment after 
 good speaking. It is the writing-master s business, to 
 take care that the boys make fair characters, and place them 
 straight and even in the lines : but to form their style, and 
 even to take care that the stops and capitals are properly 
 disposed, is the part of fche English master. The boys 
 should be put on writing letters to each other on any com 
 mon occurrences, and on various subjects, imaginary busi 
 ness, &c. containing little stories, accounts of their late 
 reading, what parts of authors please 4hem, and why ; let 
 ters of congratulation, of compliment, of requests, of 
 thanks, of recommendation, of ad-monition, 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 Temple s, those of Pope 
 and his friends, and some others, might be set before tho 
 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 explained 
 by the master, to lay a solid foundation of virtue and piety 
 in their minds. And as this class continues the reading of 
 history, let them now, at proper hours, receive some farther 
 
SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 219 
 
 instruction in chronology, and in that part of geography 
 (from the mathematical master) which is necessary to un 
 derstand the maps and globes. They should also be ac 
 quainted with the modern names of the places they find 
 mentioned in ancient writers. The exercises of good read 
 ing, and proper speaking, still continued at suitable times. 
 
 Fifth Class. 
 
 To improve the youth in composition, they may now, be 
 sides continuing to write letters, begin to write little essays 
 in prose, and sometimes in verse ; not to make them poets, 
 but for this reason, that nothing acquaints a lad so speedily 
 with variety of expression, as the necessity of finding such 
 words and phrases as will suit the measure, sound, and 
 rhyme of verse, and at the same time well express the sen 
 timent. 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 circumstance of some good story, the scho 
 lar to find expression. Let them be put sometimes on 
 abridging a paragraph of a diffuse author : sometimes on 
 dilating or amplifying what is wrote more closely. And 
 now let Dr. Johnson s Noetica, or First Principles of Hu 
 man Knowledge, containing a logic, or art of reasoning, &c. 
 be read by the youth, and the difficulties/ that may occur 
 to them, be explained by the master. The reading of his 
 tory, and the exercises of good reading and just speaking, 
 still continued. 
 
 Sixth Class. 
 
 In this class, besides continuing the studies of the pre 
 ceding in history, rhetoric, logic, moral and natural philo 
 sophy, the best English authors may be read aud explained ; 
 
220 SKETCH OF AX ENGLISH SCHOOL. 
 
 as Tillotson, Milton, Locke, Addison, Pope, Swift, tlie 
 higher papers in the Spectator and Guardian, the best 
 translations of Homer, Virgil, and Horace, of Telemachus, 
 Travels of Cyrus, &c. 
 
 Once a year, let there be public exercises in the hall ; 
 the trustees and citizens present. Then let fine gilt books 
 be given as prizes to such boys as distinguish themselves, 
 and excel the others in any branch of learning, making 
 three degrees of comparison : giving the best prize to him. 
 that performs best, a less valuable one to him that comes 
 up next to the best, and another to the third. Commen 
 dations, encouragement, and advice to the rest; keeping 
 up their hopes, that, by industry, they may excel another 
 time. The names of those, that obtain the prize, to be 
 yearly printed in a list. 
 
 The hours of each day are to be divided and disposed in 
 such a manner, as that some classes may be with the writ 
 ing-master, improving their hands ; others with the mathe 
 matical master, learning arithmetic, accounts, geography, 
 use of the globes, drawing, mechanics, &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 unac 
 quainted with any ancient or foreign^tongue, they will be 
 masters of their own, which is of more immediate and ge- 
 fieral use, and withal will have attained many other valu 
 able accomplishments : the time usually spent in acquiring 
 those languages, often without success, being 1 here em 
 ployed in laying such a foundation of knowledge and 
 ability, as, properly improved, may qualify them to pass 
 through and execute the several offices of civil life, with 
 advantage and reputation to themselves and country. 
 
ADVICE TO YOUTH IS READING, 
 
 TO MISS STEVENSON, AT WANSTEAD 
 Advice to Youth in Reading. 
 
 Craven Street, May 17, 17GO. 
 
 i send my good girl the books 1 mentioned to her last 
 night. I beg her to accept of them, as a small mark of my 
 esteem and friendship. They are written in the familiar 
 easy manner for which the French are so remarkable, and 
 afford a good deal of philosophic and practical knowledge, 
 unembarrassed with the dry mathematics, used by more 
 exact reasoners ; but which is apt to discourage young 
 beginners. 1 would advise you to read with a pen in your 
 hand, and enter in a little book short hints of what you fi-nd, 
 that is curious, or that may be useful ; for this will be the 
 best method of imprinting such particulars in your memory, 
 where they will be ready, either for practice on some fu 
 ture occasion, if they are matters of utility, or at least to 
 adorn and improve your conversation, if they are rather 
 points of curiosity. And as many of the terms of science 
 are such, as you cannot have met with in your common 
 reading, and may therefore be unacquainted with, I think 
 it would be well for you to have a good dictionary at hand, 
 to consult immediately when you meet with a word you do 
 not comprenend the precise meaning of. This may at first 
 seem troublesome and interrupting; but it is a trouble 
 that will daily diminish, as you will daily find less and less 
 occasion for your dictionary as you become more ac 
 quainted with the terms ; and in the mean time you will 
 read with more satisfaction, because with more under 
 standing. When tiny point occurs, in which you would be 
 glad to have farther information than your book affords yon, 
 I beg you would not in the least apprehend, that I should 
 think it a trouble to receive and answer your questions. It 
 will be a pleasure, aod no trouble. For though I may not 
 
222 AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 
 
 be able, out of my own little stock of knowledge, to afford 
 you what you require, 1 can easily direct you to the books, 
 where it may most readily be found. Adieu, and believe 
 me ever, my dear friend, 
 
 Your s affectionately, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 An Allegorical Dream. 
 
 In a dream, I thought myself in a solitary temple. I 
 saw a kind of phantom coming towards me, but as he drew 
 near his form expanded and became more than human ; his 
 robe hung majestically down to his feet ; six wings, whiter 
 than snow, whose extremities were edged with gold, co 
 vered a part of his body : then I saw him quit his material 
 substance, which he had put on to avoid terrifying me ; his 
 body was of all the colours in the rainbow. He took me by 
 the hair, and I was sensible I was travelling in the aetherial 
 plains without any dread, with the rapidity of an arrow 
 sent from a bow, drawn by a supple and nervous arm. A 
 thousand glowing orbs rolled beneath me : but I could only 
 cast a rapid glance on all those globes distinguished by 
 the striking colours with which they were diversified. I 
 now suddenly perceived so beautiful, so flourishing, so fer 
 tile, a country, that I conceived a strong desire to alight, 
 upon it. My wishes were instantly gratified ; I felt myself 
 gently landed on its surface, where I was surrounded by a 
 balmy atmosphere. I found myself reposed at the dawn, upon 
 the soft verdant grass. I stretched out my arms, in token 
 of gratitude, to my celestial guide, who pointed to a re 
 splendent sun, towards which swiftly rising, he disappeared 
 in the luminous body. I arose, and imagined myself to be 
 transported to the garden of Ed-en. Every thing inspired 
 uiy soul with soft tranquillity. The most profound peace 
 
AX ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 223 
 
 covered this new globe; nature was here ravishing and in 
 corruptible, and a delicious freshness expanded my sense 
 to ecstasy ; a sweet odour accompanied the air I breathed ; 
 my heart, which beat with an unusual power, was im- 
 merged in a sea of rapture ; while pleasure, like a pure 
 and immortal light, penetrated the inmost recesses of my 
 .soul. The inhabitants of this happy country came to meet 
 ine ; and, alter saluting me, they took me by the hand. 
 Their noble countenances inspired confidence and respect; 
 innocence and happiness were depicted in their looks; 
 they often lilted their eyes towards heaven, and as often 
 uttered a name which I afterwards knew to be that of the 
 Eternal, while their cheeks were moistened with tears of 
 gratitude. I experienced great emotion while I conversed 
 with these sublime beings. They poured out their hearts 
 with the most sincere tenderness ; and the voice of reason, 
 most majestic, and no less melting, was at the same time 
 conveyed to my enraptured ear. I soon perceived that 
 this abode was totally different from that which I had left. 
 A divine impulse made me fly into their arms: I bowed 
 my knees to them ; but being raised up in the most en 
 dearing manner, I was pressed to the bosoms which in 
 closed such excellent hearts, and I conceived a presenti 
 ment of celestial amity, of that amity which united their 
 souls, and formed the greatest portion of their felicity. 
 The angel of darkness, with all his artifice, was never able 
 to discover the entrance into this world ! notwithstanding- 
 his ever-watchful malice, he never found out the means to 
 spread his poison over this happy globe. Anger, envy, 
 and pride, were there unknown ; the happiness of one ap 
 peared the happiness of all; an ecstatic transport inces 
 santly elevating their souls at the sight of the magnificent 
 and bountiful hand which collected over their heads the most 
 astonishing prodigies of the creation. The lovely Morn- 
 er humid saOVou wings, distilled the pearly dew 
 
224 AX ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 
 
 from the shrubs and flowers, and the rays of the rising sura 
 multiplied the most enchanting colours, when I perceived 
 a wood embellished by the opening- dawn. The youth of 
 both sexes there sent forth hymns of adoration towards 
 heaven ; and were filled at the same time with the gran 
 deur and majesty of God, which rolled almost visibly over 
 their heads ; for in this world of innocence, he vouchsafed 
 to manifest himself by means unknown to our weak under 
 standings. All things announced his august presence, the 
 serenity of the air, the dyes of the flowers, the brilliancy ot 
 the insects, a kind of universal sensibility spread over all 
 beings, whose vivified bodies seemed entirely susceptible 
 of it. Everything bore the appearance of sentiment; and 
 the birds stopped in the midst of their flight, as if attentive 
 to the affecting modulations of their voices. But no pen 
 cil can express the ravishing countenance of the young 
 beauties, whose bosoms breathed love. Who can describe 
 that love of which we have not any idea, that love for which 
 we have no name, that love, the lot of pure intelligent 
 beings, divine love, which they only can conceive and feel ; 
 the tongue of man, incapable, must be silent ! The remem 
 brance of this enchanting place suspends at this moment 
 all the faculties of my soul. The sun was rising the 
 pencil falls from my hand. O, Thomson, never did thy 
 muse view such a sun! What a world, and what magni 
 ficent order ! I trod, with regret, on the flowery plants, en 
 dued, like that we cull sensitive, with a quick and lively 
 feeling; they bent under rny foot, only to rise with more 
 brilliancy : the fruit gently dropped, on the first touch, from 
 the complying branch, and had scarcely gratified the palate 
 when the delicious sensation of its juices was felt glowing 
 in every vein; the eye, more piercing, sparkled with un 
 common lustre; the ear was more lively; the heart, which 
 expanded itself over all nature, seemed to possess and en 
 joy its fertile extent: the universal enjoyment did not dis- 
 
AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 225 
 
 turb any individual; for union multiplied their delights, and 
 they esteemed themselves less happy in their own fruition 
 than in the happiness of others. This sun did not resemble 
 the comparative paleness and weakness which illuminates 
 our gloomy terrestrial prison ; yet the eye could bear to 
 gaze on it, and, in a manner, plunge itself in a kind of 
 ecstasy in its mild and pure light ; it enlivened at once the 
 sight and the understanding, and even penetrated the soul. 
 The bodies of those fortunate persons became, as it were, 
 transparent ; while each read in his brother s hea r t the sen 
 timents of affability and tenderness with which himself was 
 affected. There darted from the leaves of all the shrubs 
 which the planet enlightened, a luminous matter, which 
 resembled, at a distance, all the colours of the rainbow ; 
 its orb, which was never eclipsed, was crowned with such 
 sparkling rays that the daring prism of Newton could not 
 divide. When this planet set, six brilliant moons floated 
 in the atmosphere; their progression in different orbits,, 
 each night formed a new exhibition. The multitude of 
 stars, which seem to us as if scattered by chance, were 
 here seen in their true point of view, and the order of the 
 universe appeared in all its pomp and splendour. In this 
 happy country, when a man gave way to sleep, his body, 
 which had none of the properties of terrestrial elements, 
 gave no opposition to the soul, but contemplated in a 
 vision, bordering on reality, the lucid region, the throne of 
 the Eternal, to which it was soon to be elevated. Men 
 awaked from a light slumber without perturbation or un 
 easiness ; enjoying futurity by a forcible sentiment of im 
 mortality, being intoxicated with the image of an approach 
 ing felicity, exceeding that which they already enjoyed. 
 Grief, the fatal result of the imperfect sensibility of our 
 rude frames, was unknown to these innocent men ; a light 
 sensation warned them of the objects which could hurt 
 them ; and nature removed them from the danger, as a ten- 
 
226 AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 
 
 der mother would gently draw her child by the hand from 
 a pitfall. I breathed more freely in this habitation of joy 
 and concord ; my existence became most valuable to me ; 
 but in^proportion as the charms which surrounded me were 
 lively, the greater was my sorrow when my ideas returned 
 to the globe I had quitted. All the calamities of the hu 
 man race united, as in one point, to overwhelm my heart, 
 and I exclaimed piteously Alas ! the world I inhabited 
 formerly resembled your s : but peace, innocence, and 
 chaste pleasures, soon vanished. Why was I not born 
 among you ? what a contrast ! the earth which was my 
 sorrowful abode is incessantly filled with tears and sighs ; 
 there the smaller number oppress the greater; the demon 
 of property infects what he touches, and what he covets. 
 Gold is there a god, and they sacrifice on his altar love, 
 humanity, and the most valuable virtues. Shudder, you 
 who hear me ! the greatest enemy which man has is man ; 
 his chiefs are his tyrants ; they make all things bend under 
 the yoke of their pride or their caprice ; the chains of op 
 pression are in a manner extended from pole to pole ; a 
 monster who assumes the mask of glory, makes lawful 
 whatever is most horrible, violence and murder. Since 
 the fatal invention of an inflammable powder, no mortal 
 can say, to morrow I shall repose in peace ; to-morrow 
 the arm of despotism will not crush my head ; to-morrow 
 dreadful sorrow will not depress my soul ; to-morrow the 
 waitings of an useless despair, proceeding from a distressed 
 heart, will not escape my lips, and tyranny bury me alive 
 as in a stone coffin ! Oh, my brethren ! weep, weep over 
 us ! We are not only surrounded with chains and execu-f 
 tioners, but are moreover dependent on the seasons, the 
 elements, and the meanest insects. All nature rebels 
 against us; and even if we subdue her, she makes us pay 
 dearly for the benefits our labour forces from her. The 
 bread we eat is earned by our tears and the sweat of our 
 
AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 
 
 brow ; then greedy men come and plunder us, to squander 
 it on their idle favourites. Weep, weep with me, my bre 
 thren ! hatred pursues us ; revenge sharpens its poniard in 
 the dark; calumny brands us, and even deprives us of the 
 power of making 1 our defence ; the object of tenderness 
 betrays our confidence, and forces as to curse this other 
 wise consolatory sentiment. We must live in the midst of 
 all the strokes of wickedness, error, pride, and folly. 
 While my heart gave a free course to my complaints, 1 saw 
 a band of shining seraphs descending from heaven ; on 
 which, shouts of joy were immediately sent from the whole 
 race of these fortunate beings. As I gazed with astonish 
 ment, I was accosted by an old man, who said, * Farewel, 
 my friend ! the moment of our death draws near ; oic rather, 
 that of a new life. The ministers of the God of clemency 
 are come to take us away from this earth ; we are going to 
 dwell in a world of still greater perfection. 
 
 * Why, father/ said J, * are you then strangers to the 
 agonies of death, the anguish, the pain, the dread, which 
 accompany us in our last moments? Yes, my child, he 
 replied, these angels of the Highest come at stated 
 periods, and carry us all away, opening to us the road to a 
 new world, of which we have an idea by the undoubted con 
 viction of the unlimited bounty and magnificence of the 
 Creator/ A cheerful glow was immediately spread over 
 their countenances ; their brows already seemed crowned 
 with immortal splendour; they sprang lightly from the 
 earth in my sight ; I pressed the sacred hand of each for 
 the last time, while with a smile they held out the other to 
 the seraph, who had spread his wings to carry them to hea 
 ven. They ascended all at once, like a flock of beautiful 
 swans, that, taking flight, raise themselves, with majestic 
 rapidity, over the tops of our highest palaces. I gazed 
 with sadness; my eye followed them in the air, until their 
 venerable heads were lost in the silver douds > and I rt- 
 
LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 
 
 Gained alone on this magnificent deserted land. I per 
 ceived I was not yet fitted to dwell in it, and wished to re 
 turn to this unfortunate world of expiation : thus the ani 
 mal escaped from his keeper returns, following the track 
 of his chain, with a mild aspect, and enters his prison. 
 Awaking, the illusion was dispelled, which it is beyond the 
 power of my weak tongue or pen to describe in its full 
 splendour; but this illusion I shall for ever cherish; and, 
 supported by the foundation of hope, I will preserve it till 
 death, in the inmost recesses of my soul. 
 
 Two Letters to George Whatley, Esq* Treasurer of lie 
 Foundling Hospital, London. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 DEAR OLD FRIEND, Passy, Mai/23, 1785. 
 
 I sent you a few lines the other day with the medallion, 
 when 1 should have written more, but was prevented by 
 the coming in of a bavard, who worried me till evening. I 
 bore with him, and now you are to bear with me, for I shall 
 probably bavarder in answering your letter. 
 
 I am not acquainted with the saying of Alphonsus, which 
 you allude to as a sanctification of your rigidity, in refusing 
 to allow me the plea of old age as an excuse for my want 
 of exactitude in correspondence. What was that saying ? 
 You do not, it seems, feel any occasion for such an excuse, 
 though you are, as you say, rising 75; but I am rising (per 
 haps more properly falling) 80 and I leave the excuse 
 with you till you arrive at that age ; perhaps you may then 
 be more sensible of its validity, and see fit to use it far 
 yourself 
 
 I must agree with you, that the gout is bad, and that 
 the stone is worse. I am happy in not having them botn 
 
LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 
 
 together, and I join in your prayer, that you may live till 
 you die without either. But I doubt the author of the 
 epitaph you sent me is a little mistaken, when, speaking of 
 the world, he says, that 
 
 He ne er car d a pin 
 
 What they said or may say of the mortal within. 
 
 It is so natural to wish to be well spoken of, whether 
 alive or dead, that I imagine he could not be quite exempt 
 from that desire, and that at least he wished to be thought 
 a wit, or he would not have given himself the trouble of 
 writing so good an epitaph to leave behind him. Was it 
 not worthy of his care, that the world should say he was an 
 honest and a good man? I like better the concluding sen 
 timent in the old song, called the old man s wish, wherein, 
 after wishing for a warm house in a country town, an easy 
 horse, some good old authors, ingenious and cheerful com 
 panions, pudding on Sundays, with stout ale and a bottle of 
 burgundy, &c. &c, in separate stanzas, each ending with this 
 burden, 
 
 May I govern my passions with absolute sway, 
 And grow wiser and better as strength wears away, 
 Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay. 
 
 he adds, for the last, stanza, 
 
 With courage undaunted may I face my last day, 
 
 And when I am gone may the better sort say, 
 
 In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow, 
 
 He s gone and not left behind him his fellow. 
 
 For he govern d his passions, &c. 
 
 What signifies our wishing? Things happen after all 
 as they will happen. I have sung that wishing song a 
 thousand times when I was young, and now find at four 
 score, that the three contraries have befallen me, being 
 subject to the gout, and the stone, and not being yet mas 
 ter of all my passions : like the proud girl in my country, 
 who wished and resolved not to marry a parson, ner p 
 
230 LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 
 
 Presbyterian, nor an Irishman, and at length found herself 
 married to an Irish Presbyterian parson ! You see I have 
 some reason to wish that in a future state I may not only be 
 as well as I was, but a little better. And I hope it : for 
 I too, with your poet, trust in God. And when I observe, 
 that there is great frugality as well as wisdom in his works, 
 since he has been evidently sparing, both of labour and 
 materials ; for by the various wonderful inventions of pro 
 pagation, he has provided for the continual peopling his 
 world with plants and animals without being at the trou 
 ble of repeated new creations ; and by the natural reduc 
 tion of compound substances to their original elements, 
 capable of being employed in new compositions, he has 
 prevented the necessity of creating new matter ; for that 
 the earth, water, air, and perhaps fire, which being com 
 pounded, form wood, do, when the wood is dissolved, return, 
 < *nd again become air, earth, fire, and water: I say, that 
 when I see nothing annihilated, and not even a drop of 
 water wasted, I cannot suspect the annihilation of souls, or 
 believe that he will suffer the daily waste of millions of 
 minds ready made that now exist, and put himself to the 
 continual trouble of making new ones. Thus finding my 
 self to exist in the world, I believe I shall in some shape or 
 other always exist. And with all the inconveniences hu 
 man life is liable to, I shall not object to a new edition of 
 mine ; hoping, however, that the errata of the last may be 
 corrected. 
 
 I return your note of children received in the foundling 
 hospital at Paris, from 1741 to 1755 inclusive, and I hare 
 added the years preceding, as far back as 1710, together 
 with the general christenings of the city ; and the years 
 succeeding, down to 1770. Those since that period I 
 have not been able to obtain. I have noted in the margin, 
 the gradual increase, viz. from every tenth child so thrown 
 upon the public, till it comes to every third. Fifteen years 
 
LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 231 
 
 have passed since the last account, and probably it may 
 now amount to one half. Is it right to encourage this 
 monstrous deficiency of natural affection ? A surgeon 1 
 met with here excused the women of Paris, by saying se 
 riously, that they could not give suck ; Car, dit-il, Us 
 riont point de tetons? He assured me it was a fact, and 
 bade me look at them, and observe how flat they were on 
 the breast ; they have nothing more there/ says he, than 
 I have upon the back of my hand. I have since thought 
 that there might be some truth in his observation, and that 
 possibly Nature, finding they made no use of bubbies, has 
 left off giving them any. Yet since Rousseau, with admi 
 rable eloquence, pleaded fbr the rights of children to their 
 mothers milk, the mode has changed a little, and some la 
 dies of quality now suckle their infants and find milk 
 enough. May the mode descend to the lower ranks, till 
 it becomes no longer the custom to pack their infants 
 away, as soon as born, to the Enfans Trouves, with the 
 careless observation, that the king is better able to 
 maintain them. I am credibly informed, that nine- 
 tenths of them die there pretty soon ; which is said to be a 
 great relief to the institution, whose funds would not other 
 wise be sufficient to bring up the remainder. Except the 
 few persons of quality above-mentioned, and the multitude 
 who send to the hospital, the practice is to hire nurses in 
 the country, to carry out the children and take care of 
 them there. Here is an office for examining the health of 
 nurses and giving them licences. They come to town on 
 certain days of the week, in companies, to receive the 
 children, and we often meet trains of them on the road re 
 turning to the neighbouring villages, with each a child in 
 arms. But those who are good enough to try this way of 
 raising their children are often not able to pay the expense, 
 so that the prisons of Paris are crowded with wretched fa 
 thers and mothers, confined pour mois de nouricc t - though 
 
232 LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 
 
 it is laudably a favourite charity to pay for them, and set 
 such prisoners at liberty. I wish success to the new pro 
 ject of assisting the poor to keep their children at home, 
 because I think there is no nurse like a mother (or not 
 many) and that if parents did not immediately send their 
 infants out of their sight, they would in a few days begin 
 to love them, and thence be spurred to greater industry for 
 their maintenance. This is a subject you understand bet 
 ter than I, and therefore, having perhaps said too much, I 
 drop it. I only add to the notes a remark from the history 
 of the Academy of Sciences, much in favour of the found 
 ling institution. 
 
 The Philadelphia bank goes on, as I hear, very well. 
 What you call the Cincinnati Institution is no institution of 
 our government, but a private convention among the of 
 ficers of our late army, and so universally disliked by the 
 people, that it is supposed it will be dropped. It was 
 considered as an attempt to establish something like an he 
 reditary rank or nobility. I hold with you that it was 
 wrong ; may I add, that all descending honours are wrong 
 and absurd; that the honour of virtuous actions appertains 
 only to him that performs them, and is in its nature incom 
 municable. If it were communicable by descent, it must 
 also be divisible among the descendants, and the more an 
 cient the family the less would be found existing in any one 
 branch of it ; to say nothing of the greater chance of un 
 lucky interruptions. 
 
 Our constitution seems not to be well understood with 
 you. If the congress were a permanent body, there would 
 be more reason in being jealous of giving it powers. But 
 its members are chosen annually, and cannot be chosen 
 more than three years successively, nor more than three 
 years in seven, and any of them may be recalled at any 
 time, whenever their constituents shall be dissatisfied with 
 their conduct. They are of the people, and return again 
 
LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 383 
 
 to mix with the people, having no more durable pre 
 eminence than the different grains of sand in an hour-glass. 
 Such an assembly cannot easily become dangerous to 
 liberty. They are the servants of the people, sent together 
 to do the people s business and promote the public wel 
 fare ; their powers must be sufficient, or their duties can 
 not be performed. They have no profitable appointments, 
 but a mere payment of daily wages, such as are scarcely 
 equivalent to their expenses, so that having no chance for 
 great places and enormous salaries or pensions, as in some 
 countries, there is no briguing or bribing for elections. I 
 wish old England were as happy in its government, but I 
 do not see it. Your people, however, think their consti 
 tution the best in the world, and affect to despise ours. It 
 is comfortable to have a good opinion of one s self, and of 
 every thing that belongs to us, to think one s own religion, 
 king, and wife, the best of all possible wives, kings, and re 
 ligions. I remember three Greenlanders, who had tra 
 velled two years in Europe, under the care of some Mo 
 ravian missionaries, and had visited Germany, Denmark, 
 Holland, and England, when I asked them at Philadelphia 
 (when they were in their way home) whether, now they had 
 seen how much more commod iously the white people lived 
 by the help of the arts, they would not choose to remain 
 among us? Their answer was, that they were pleased 
 with having had an opportunity of seeing many fine things, 
 but they chose to live in their own country : which coun 
 try, by the way, consisted of rock only, for the Moravians 
 were obliged to carry earth in their ship from New York, 
 for the purpose of making there a cabbage garden ! 
 
 By Mr. Dollond s* saying, that my double spectacles 
 oould only serve particular eyes, I doubt he has not been 
 
 An eminent mathematical instrument-maker in Londo* 
 
234 LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 
 
 rightly informed of their construction. 1 imagine it will b>0 
 found pretty generally true, that the same convexity of 
 glass through which a man sees clearest and best at the 
 distance proper for reading, is not the best for greater 
 distances. I therefore had formerly two pair of spec 
 tacles, which I shifted occasionally, as in travelling I some 
 times read and often want to regard the prospects. Find 
 ing this change troublesome, and not always sufficiency 
 ready, I had the glasses cut out and half of each kind as 
 sociated in the same circle, the least convex, for distant 
 objects, the upper half, -and the most convex, for reading, 
 the lower half: by this means, as I wear my spectacles con 
 stantly, I have only to move my eyes up or down, as I want 
 to see distinctly far or near, the proper glasses being al 
 ways ready. This I find more particularly convenient 
 since my being in France ; the glasses that serve me best 
 at table to see what I eat, being the best to see the faces 
 of those on the other side of the table who speak to me, and 
 %hen one s ears are not well accustomed to the sounds of a 
 language, a sight of the movements in the features of him 
 that speaks helps to explain ; so that I understand French 
 better by the help of my spectacles. 
 
 My intended translator of your piece, the only one I 
 know who understands the subject as well as the two lan 
 guages, which a translator ought to do, or he cannot make 
 so good translation, is at present occupied in an affair that 
 prevents his undertaking it ; but that will soon be over. I 
 thank you for the notes. I should be glad to have another 
 of the printed pamphlets. 
 
 We shall always be ready to take your children, if you 
 send them to us : I only wonder, that since London draws 
 to itself and consumes such numbers of your country peo 
 ple, your country should not, to supply their places, want 
 and willingly receive the children you have to dispose of. 
 That ciicunjstance, together with the multitude who volun- 
 
LETTERS TO MR. WIIATLE1. 235 
 
 larily part with their freedom as men, to serve for a time as 
 lacqueys, or for life as soldiers, in consideration of small 
 wages, seems to me a proof that your island is over 
 peopled, and yet it is afraid of emigrations ! Adieu, my 
 dear friend, and believe me ever 
 
 Tour s, very affectionately, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Philadelphia, J%18, 1787. 
 
 I received duly my good old friend s letter of the 19th of 
 February, with a copy of one from Mr. Williams, to whom 
 I shall communicate it when I see him, which I expect soon, 
 to do. He is generally a punctual correspondent, and 1 
 am surprised you have not heard from him. 
 
 I thank you much for your notes on banks ; they are just 
 and solid, as far as I can judge of them. Our bank here 
 lias met with great opposition, partly from envy, and partly 
 from those who wish an emission of more paper-money, 
 which they think the bank influence prevents. But it has 
 stood all attacks, and went on well notwithstanding the 
 assembly repealed its charter; a new assembly has re 
 stored it; and the management is so prudent, that I 
 have no doubt of its continuing to go on well. The 
 dividend has never been less than 6 per cent, nor will 
 that be augmented for some time, as the surplus profit is 
 reserved to face accidents. The dividend of 11 per cent, 
 which was once made, was from a circumstance scarce 
 avoidable. A new company was proposed, and pre 
 vented only by admitting a number of new partners. As 
 many of the first set were averse to this, and chose to with 
 draw, it was necessary to settle their accounts ; so all were 
 
236 LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY, 
 
 adjusted, the profits shared that had been accumulated, and 
 the new and old proprietors jointly began on a new and 
 equal footing-. Their notes are always instantly paid on 
 demand, and pass on all occasions as readily as silver, be 
 cause they will always produce silver. 
 
 Your medallion is in good company ; it is placed with 
 .those of Lord Chatham, Lord Camden, Marquis ot 
 Rockingham, Sir George Savil, and some others, who ho 
 noured me with a share of friendly regard when in England, 
 I believe 1 have thanked you for it, but I thank jou again 
 
 I believe with you, that if our plenipotentiary is desirous 
 of concluding a treaty of commerce, he may need patience. 
 But if I were in his place, and not otherwise instructed, I 
 should be apt to say, Take your own time, gentlemen. If 
 the treaty cannot be made as much to your advantage as to 
 our s, don t make it. I am sure the want of it is not more 
 to our disadvantage than to your s. Let the merchants on 
 both sides treat with one another. Laissez lesfaire. 
 
 I have never considered attentively the congress scheme 
 for coining, and I have it not now at hand, so that at present 
 I can say nothing to it. The chief uses of coining seem 
 to be ascertaining the fineness of the metals, and saving the 
 time that would otherwise be spent in weighing to ascer 
 tain the quantity. But the convenience of fixed values to 
 Jeces is so great as to force the currency of some whose 
 stamp is worn off, that should have assured their fineness, 
 awd which are evidently not of half their due weight ; this is 
 the case at present with the sixpences in England, which 
 one with another do not weigh threepence. 
 
 You are now 78, and I am 82. You tread fast upon 
 my heels: but, though you have more strength and spirit, 
 you cannot come up with me till I stop; which must now 
 be soon ; for I am grown so old as to have buried most of 
 the friends of my youth ; andl now often hear persons, whom 
 I knew when children, called old Mr. such a one," to dis- 
 
FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT. 
 
 tinguish them irom their sons now men grown, mid in bu 
 siness; so that by living twelve years beyond David s 
 period, I seem to have intruded myself into the company of 
 posterity, when I ought to have been a-bed and asleep. 
 Yet had I gone at 70, it would cut oft* 12 of the most ac 
 tive years of my life, employed too in matters of the great 
 est ^importance ; but whether I have been doing good or 
 mischief, is for time to discover. I only know that I in 
 tended well, and I hope all will end well. 
 
 Be so good as to present my affectionate respects to Dr. 
 Rowley. I am under great obligations to him, and shall 
 write to him shortly. It will be a pleasure to him to hear 
 that my malady does not grow sensibly worse, and that is a 
 great point : for it has always been so tolerable, as not to 
 prevent my enjoying the pleasures of society, and being 
 cheerful in conversation. I owe this in a great measure to 
 his good counsels. 
 
 Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever, 
 Your s, most affectionatelv, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Geo. Whatley, Esq. 
 
 Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout ; translated 
 from the French. * 
 
 Midnight, Oct. 22, 1780 
 
 Franklin. Eh ! Oh ! Eh ! What have I done to merit 
 these cruel sufferings ? 
 
 Gout. Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, 
 
 * For this translation the editor is indebted to " the com 
 plete works, in Philosophy, Politics, and Morals, of the late 
 Dr. Benjamin Franklin," m three volumes octavo 
 
238 FIUNKLItt AND THE GOUT, 
 
 and too much indulged those legs of your s in their i 
 lence. 
 
 Fran/elm. What is it that accuses me ? 
 
 Gout. It is I, even I, the gout. 
 
 Franklin. What ! my enemy in person ? 
 
 Gout. No, not your enemy. 
 
 Franklin. I repeat it ; my enemy : for you would not 
 only torment my body to death, but ruin my good name : 
 you reproach me as a glutton and tippler; now all the world 
 that knows me will allow, that I am neither the one nor the 
 other. - 
 
 Gout. The world may think as it pleases : it is always 
 very complaisant to itself, and sometimes to its friends ; 
 but I very well know, that the quantity of meat and drink 
 proper for a man, who takes a reasonable degree of exer 
 cise, would be too much for another, who never takes any. 
 
 Franklin. I take Eh ! Oh ! as much exercise Eh ! 
 as I can, Madam Gout. You know my sedentary state, 
 and on that account, it would seem, Madam Gout, as if 
 you might spare me a little, seeing it is not altogether my 
 own fault. 
 
 Gout. Not a jot: your rhetoric and your politeness are 
 thrown away ; your apology avails nothing. If your situ 
 ation in life is a sedentary one, your amusements, your re 
 creations, at least, should be active. You ought to walk 
 or ride ; or, if the weather prevents that, play at billiards. 
 But let us examine your course of life. While the morn 
 ings are long, and you have leisure to go abroad, what do 
 you do? Why, instead of gaining an appetite for break 
 fast, by salutary exercise, you amuse yourself with books, 
 pamphlets, or newspapers, which commonly are not worth 
 the reading. Yet you eat an inordinate breakfast, four 
 dishes of tea, with cream, and one or two buttered toasts, 
 with slices of hung beef, which I fancy are not things the 
 most easily digested. Immediately afterward you sit down 
 
FRANKLIN AND- THE G OUT. 2;19 
 
 to write at your desk, or converse with persons who apply 
 to you on business. Thus the time passes till one, without 
 any kind of bodily exercise. But all this I could pardon, 
 in regard, as you say, to your sedentary condition. But 
 what is your practice after dinner ? Walking in the beau 
 tiful gardens of those friends with whom you have dined 
 would be the choice of men of sense : your s is to be fixed 
 down to chess, where you are found engaged for two or 
 three hours! This is your perpetual recreation, which is 
 the least eligible of any for a sedentary man, because, in 
 stead of accelerating the motion of the fluids, the rigid at 
 tention it requires, helps to retard the circulation and ob 
 struct internal secretions. Wrapt in the speculations of 
 this wretched game, you destroy your constitution. What 
 can be expected from such a course of living, but a body 
 replete with stagnant humours, ready to fall a prey to all 
 kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the gout, did not oc 
 casionally bring you relief by agitating these humours, 
 and so purifying or dissipating them ? If it was in some 
 nook or alley of Paris, deprived of walks, that you played 
 awhile at chess after dinner, this might be excusable, but 
 the same taste prevails with you in Passy, Auteuil, Mont- 
 caartre, or Sanoy, places where there are the finest gardens 
 and walks, a pure air, beautiful women, and most agree 
 able and instructive conversation ; all which you might en 
 joy by frequenting the walks ! But these are rejected for 
 this abominable game of chess. Fie, then, Mr. Franklin ! 
 But amidst my instructions, I had almost forgot to admi 
 nister my wholesome corrections : so take that twinge and 
 that. 
 
 FrJtifdin. Oh ! Eh ! Oh ! Ohhh ! As much instruction 
 as you please, Madam Gout, and as many reproaches, but 
 pray, Madam, a truce with your corrections ! 
 \ Gout. No, sir, no I will not abate a particle of what is 
 so much for your good therefore 
 
240 FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT. 
 
 Franklin. Oh! Ehhh! It is not fair to say I lake no 
 exercise, when I do very often, going out to dine, and re 
 luming in rny carriage. 
 
 Gout. That, of all imaginary exercise, is the most slight 
 and insignificant, if you allude to the motion of a carriage 
 suspended on springs. By observing the degree of heat 
 obtained by different kinds of motion, we may form an es 
 timate of the quantity of exercise given by each. Thus, 
 for example, if you turn out to walk in winter with cold 
 feet, in an hour s time you will be in aglow all over; ride 
 on horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived by 
 four hours round trotting : but if you loll in a carriage, 
 such as you have mentioned, you may travel all day, and 
 gladly enter the last inn to warm your feet by a fire. Flatter 
 yourself then no longer, that half an hour s airing in your 
 carriage deserves the name of exercise. Providence has 
 appointed few to roll in carriages, while he has given to all 
 a pair of legs, which are machines infinitely more commo 
 dious and serviceable. Be grateful, then, and make a pro 
 per use of your s. Would you know, how they forward 
 the circulation of your fluids, in the very action of transport 
 ing you from place to place ? observe, when you walk, that 
 all your weight is alternately thrown from one leg to the 
 other ; this occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the 
 foot, and repels their contents. When relieved, by the 
 weight being thrown on the other foot, the vessels of the 
 first are allowed to replenish, and by a return of this weight, 
 this repulsion again succeeds; thus accelerating the circu 
 lation of the blood. The heat produced in any given time 
 depends on the degree of this acceleration: the fluids art} 
 shaken, the humours attenuated, the secretions facilitated, 
 and all goes well ; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is 
 established. Behold your fair friend at Auteuil : a lady 
 who received from bounteous nature more really useful 
 science, than half a, dozen such pretenders to philosophy 
 
FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT. 241 
 
 as you have been able to extract from all your books. 
 When she honours you with a visit, it is on loot. She 
 walks all hours of the day, and leaves indolence and its con 
 comitant maladies to be endured by her horses. In this 
 see at once the preservative of her health and personal 
 charms. But you, when you go to Auteuil, must have your 
 carriage, though it is no farther from Passy to Auteuil, than 
 from Auteuil to Passy. 
 
 Franklin. Tour reasonings grow very tiresome. 
 
 Gout. I stand corrected. I will be silent, and continue 
 my office : take that, and that. 
 
 Franklin. Oh ! Ohh ! Talk on, I pray you ! 
 
 Gout. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for 
 you to-night, and you may be sure of some more to 
 morrow. 
 
 Franklin. What, with such a fever ! I shall go distracted. 
 Oh ! Eh ! Can no one bear it for me ? 
 
 Gout. Ask that of your horses ; they have served you 
 faithfully. 
 
 Franklin. How can you so cruelly sport with my tor 
 ments ? 
 
 Gout. Sport ! I am very serious. I have here a list of 
 your offiences against your own health distinctly written, 
 and can justify every stroke inflicted on you. 
 
 Franklin. Read it then. 
 
 Gout. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention 
 some particulars. 
 
 Franklin. Proceed I am all attention. 
 
 Gout. Do you remember how often you have promised 
 yourself, the following morning, a walk in the grore of 
 Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or in your own gar 
 den, and have violated your promise, alleging, at one time, 
 it was too cold, at another too warm, too windy, too moist, 
 or what else you pleased ; when in truth it was too nothing, 
 but your insuperal/le love of ease? 
 
 R 
 
542 FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT, 
 
 Franklin. That I confess ma}- have happened occasion 
 ally, probably ten times in a year. 
 
 Goid. Your confession is Very short of the truth ; the 
 gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times. 
 
 Franklin. Is it possible ? 
 
 Gout. So possible, that is fact; you may rely on the 
 accuracy of my statement. You know Mr. B s gar 
 den, and what fine walks they contain; you know the- 
 handsome flight of an hundred steps, which lead from the 
 terrace above to the lawn below. You have been in the 
 practice of visiting this amiabl family twice a week after 
 dinner, and as it is a maxim of your own, that " a man may 
 take as much exercise in walking a mile up and down stairs, 
 as in ten on level ground," what an opportunity was here 
 for you to have had exercise in both these ways ? Did you 
 embrace it, and how often ? 
 
 Franklin. I cannot immediately answer that question. 
 
 Gout. I will do it for you ; not once. 
 
 Franklin. Not once? 
 
 Gout. Even so. During the summer you went there at 
 six o clock. You found the charming lady, with her lovely 
 children and friends, eager to walk with you, and entertain 
 you with their agreeable conversation : and what has been 
 your choice ? Why to sit on the terrace, satisfying your 
 self with the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the 
 beauties of the garden below, without taking one step to 
 descend and walk about in them. On the contrary, you 
 call for tea, and the chess-board; and lo ! you are occu 
 pied in your seat till nine o clock, and that beside two 
 hours play after dinner; and then, instead of walking 
 home, which would have bestirred you a little, you step into 
 your carriage. How absurd to suppose, that all this care 
 lessness can be reconcileable with health, without my inter 
 position ! 
 
 Ffariklin. I am convinced now of the justness of poor 
 
FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT. 243 
 
 Richard s remark, that " our debts and our sins are always 
 greater than we think for." 
 
 Gout. So it is! you philosophers are sages in your 
 maxims, and tools in your conduct. 
 
 Franklin. But do you charge among my crimes that 1 
 return in a carriage from Mr. B s ? 
 
 Gout. Certainly : for having been seated all the while, 
 you cannot object the fatigue of the day, and cannot want 
 therefore the relief of a carriage. 
 
 Franklin. What th en would you have me do with my 
 carriage? 
 
 Gout. Burn it, if you choose ; you would at least get 
 heat out of it once in this way ; or if you dislike that pro 
 posal, here s another for you : observe the poor peasants 
 who work in the vineyards and grounds about the villages 
 of Passy, Auteuil, Chaillois, &c. you may find every day 
 among these deserving creatures, four or five old men and 
 women, bent and perhaps crippled by weight of years, and 
 too long and too great labour. After a most fatiguing day, 
 these people have to trudge a mile or two to their smoky 
 huts. Order your coachman to set them down. That is 
 an act that will be good for your soul; and at the same 
 
 time, after your visit to the B s, if you return on foot, 
 
 that will be good for your body. 
 
 Franklin. Ah ! how tiresome you are. 
 
 Gout. Well then, to my office ; it should not be forgotten, 
 that I am your physician. There. 
 
 Franklin. Ohhh ! what a devil of a physician ! 
 
 Gout. How ungrateful are you to say so ! Is it not I, 
 who, in the character of your physician, have saved you 
 from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy ! one or other of which 
 would have done for you long ago, but for me. 
 
 Franklin. 1 submit, and thank you for the past, but in- 
 treat the discontinuance of your visits for the fnt.ire: fur 
 in my mind one had better die, than be cured so doJeinlly. 
 
 n 2 
 
244 CUSTOM OF WHITE- WASHING. 
 
 Permit me just to hint, that 1 have also not been unfriendly 
 to you. I never feed physician, or quack of any kind, to 
 enter the list against you ; if then you do not leave me to 
 my repose, it may be said you are ungrate iul too. 
 
 Gout. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any objection. 
 As to quacks, I despise them: they may kill you, indeed, 
 but cannot injure me. And as to regular physicians, they 
 are at last convinced, that the gout, in such a subject as 
 you are, is no disease, but a remedy ; and wherefore cure 
 a remedy ? but to our business. There. 
 5? Franklin. Oh ! Oh ! for heaven s sake, leave me ; and 
 I promise faithfully never more to play at chess, but to take 
 exercise daily, and live temperately. 
 
 I Gout, I know you too well. You promise fair ; but, 
 after a few months of good health, you will return to your 
 old habits ; your fine promises will be forgotten, like the 
 forms of the last year s clouds. Let us then finish the ac 
 count, and I will go. But I leave you, with an assurance 
 of visiting you again at a proper time and place ; for my 
 object is your good, and you are sensible now that \ ana 
 your real friend. 
 
 Singular custom among the Americans, entitled While- 
 Washing. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 My wish is to give you some account of the people oP 
 these new states, but I am far from being qualified for the 
 purpose, having as yet seen little more than the cities ot 
 New York and Philadelphia. I have discovered but few 
 national singularities among them. Their customs and 
 manners are nearly the same with those of England, which 
 they have long been used to copy. For, previous to the 
 revolution, the Americans were from their infancy taught 
 
AMONG THE AMERICANS 045 
 
 *o look up to the English as patterns of perfection in all 
 things. I hav observed, however, one custom, which, 
 or aught I know, is peculiar to this country. An account 
 of it will serve to fill up the remainder of this sheet, and 
 may afford you some amusement. 
 
 When a young couple are about to enter into the ma 
 trimonial state, a never-failing article in the marriage-treaty 
 is, that the lady shall have and enjoy the free and unmolested 
 exercise of the rights of white- washing, with all its ceremo 
 nials, privileges, and appurtenances. A young woman would 
 forego the most advantageous connection, and even disap 
 point the warmest wish of her heart, rather than resign the 
 invaluable right. You would wonder what this privilege of 
 white-Wttshiftg is : I will endeavour to give you some idea 
 of the ceremony, as I have seen it performed. 
 
 There is no season of the year in whicli the lady may not 
 claim her privilege, if she pleases ; but the latter end of 
 May is most generally fixed upon for the purpose. The 
 attentive husband may judge by certain prognostics when 
 the storm is nigh at hand. When the lady is unusually 
 fretful, finds fault with the servants, is discontented with 
 the children, and complains much of the filthiness of every 
 thing about her these are signs which ought not to be 
 neglected ; yet they are not decisive, as they sometimes 
 come on and go off again, without producing any farther 
 effect. But if, when the husband rises in the morning, he 
 should observe in the yard a wheel -barrow with a quantity 
 of lime in it, or should see certain buckets with lime dis 
 solved in water, there is then no time to be lost; he imme 
 diately locks up the apartment or closet where his papers 
 or his private property is kept, and putting the key in his 
 pocket, betakes himself to flight: for a husband, however 
 beloved, becomes a perfect nuisance during this season of 
 female rage ; his authority is superseded, his commission is 
 suspended, and the very scullion, ~who cleans the brasses 
 
246 CUSTOM OF WHITE-WASHING 
 
 in the kitchen, becomes of more consideration and import 
 ance than him. lie has nothing- (or it, but to abdicate, 
 and run from an evil which he can neither prevent nor 
 mollify. 
 
 The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The walls 
 are in a few minutes stripped of their furniture; paintings, 
 prints, and looking-glasses, lie ir? a huddled heap about the 
 iloors; the curtains are torn from the testers, the beds 
 crammed into the windows ; chairs and tables, bedsteads 
 and cradles, crowd the yard ; and the garden fence bends 
 beneath the weight of carpets, blankets, cloth cloaks, Id 
 coats, and ragged breeches. Here may be seen the lum 
 ber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused mass : for 
 the fore-ground of the picture, gridirons and frying pans, 
 rusty shovels and broken tongs, spits and pots, joint-stools, 
 and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed chairs. There, 
 a closet has disgorged its bowels, cracked tumblers, broken 
 wine glasses, phials of forgotten physic, papers of un 
 known powders, seeds, and dried herbs, handfuls of old 
 corks, tops of teapots, and stoppers of departed decan 
 ters ; from the rag-hole in the garret to the rat-hole in the 
 cellar, no place escapes unrummaged. It would seem as 
 if the day of general doom was come, and the utensils ot 
 the house were dragged forth to judgment. In this tem 
 pest, the words of Lear naturally present themselves, and 
 might, with some alteration, be made strictly applicable : 
 
 " Let the great gods, 
 
 That keep this dreadful pudder o er our heads, 
 Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch 
 That hast within thee undivulged crimes 
 Unwhipt of justice!" 
 
 " Close pent-up guilt, 
 
 Raise your concealing continents, and ask 
 These dreadful summoners grace !" 
 
 This ceremony completed, arid the house thoroughly 
 evacuated, the next operation is to smear the walls and 
 
AMONG THE AMERICANS. 247 
 
 Ceilings of every room and closet with brushes dipped in a 
 solution of lime, called vhite-ztiash; to pour buckets of 
 water over every floor, and scratch all the partitions and 
 wainscots with rough brushes wet with soap-suds, and 
 dipped in stone-cutter s sand. The windows by no means 
 escape the general deluge. A servant scrambles out upon, 
 the pent-house, at the risk of her neck, and with a mug in 
 her hand, and a bucket within reach, she dashes away in 
 numerable gallons of water against the glass panes; to the 
 great annoyance of the passengers in the street. 
 
 I have been told that an action at law was once brought 
 against one of these water nymphs, by a person who had a 
 new suit of clothes spoiled by this operation ; but, after 
 long argument, it was determined by the whole court, that 
 the action would not lie, in as much as the defendant was 
 in the exercise of a legal right, and not answerable for the 
 consequences ; and so the poor gentleman was doubly non 
 suited ; for he lost not only his suit of clothes, but his suit 
 at law. 
 
 These smearings and scratchings, washings and dashings, 
 being duly performed, the next ceremonial is to cleanse 
 and replace the distracted furniture. You may have seen 
 a house raising, or a ship-launch, when all the hands within 
 reach are collected together : recollect, if you can, the 
 liurry, bustle, confusion, and noise of such a scene, and you 
 will have some idea of this cleaning match. The misfor 
 tune is, that the sole object is to make things clean ; it 
 matters not how many useful, ornamental, or valuable ar 
 ticles are mutilated, or suffer death under the operation : a 
 mahogany chair and carved frame undergo the same dis 
 cipline ; they are to be made clean at all events ; but their 
 preservation is not worthy of attention. For instance, a 
 fine large engraving is laid flat on the floor ; smaller prints 
 are piled upon it, and the superincumbent weight cracks 
 the glasses of the lower tier: but this is of no consequence. 
 
248 CUSTOM OF WHITE- WASHING 
 
 A valuable picture is placed leaning against the sharp 
 corner of Q table ; others are made to lean against that, 
 until the pressure of the whole forces the corner of the 
 table through the canvass of the first. The frame and 
 glass of a fine print are to be cleaned; the spirit and oil 
 used on this occasion are suffered to leak through and 
 spoil the engraving ; no matter, if the glass is clean, and 
 the frame shine, it is sufficient; the rest is not worthy of 
 consideration. An able arithmetician has made an accurate 
 calculation, founded on long experience, and has disco 
 vered, that the losses and destruction incident to two white 
 washings are equal to one removal, and three removals 
 equal to one fire. 
 
 The cleaning frolic over, matters begin to resume their 
 pristine appearance. The storm abates, and all would be 
 well again, but it is impossible that so great a convulsion, 
 in so small a community, should not produce some farther 
 effects. For two or three weeks after the operation, the 
 family are usually afflicted with sure throats or sore eyes, 
 occasioned by the caustic quality of the lime, or with se 
 vere colds from the exhalations of wet floors or damp 
 walls. 
 
 I know a gentleman, who was fond of accounting for 
 every thing in a philosophical way. He considers this, 
 Avhich I have called a custom, as a real periodical disease, 
 peculiar to the climate. His train of reasoning is ingenious 
 and whimsical ; but I arn not at leisure to give you a de 
 tail. The result was, that he found the distemper to be 
 incurable; but after much study he conceived he had dis 
 covered a method to divert the evil he could not subdue. 
 For this purpose he caused a small building, about twelve 
 feet square, to be erected in his garden, and furnished with 
 some ordinary chairs and tables ; and a few prints of the 
 cheapest sort were hung against the walls. His hope was, 
 that when the white-washing frenzy seized the females of 
 
AMONG THE AMERICANS. 249 
 
 his family, they might repair to this apartment, and scrub, 
 und smear, and scour, to their heart s content ; and so 
 spend the violence of the disease in this out-post, while lie 
 rnjoyed himself in quiet at head-quarters. But the expe 
 riment did not answer his expectation ; it was impossible it 
 should, since a principal part of the gratification consists 
 in the lady s having an uncontrolled right to torment her 
 husband at least once a year, and to turn him out of doors, 
 and take the reins of government into her own hands. 
 
 There is a much better contrivance than this of the phi 
 losopher ; which is, to cover the walls of the house with 
 paper ; this is generally done, and though it cannot abo 
 lish, it at least shortens, the period of female dominion. 
 The paper is decorated with flowers of various fancies, and 
 made so ornamental that the women have admitted the 
 fashion without perceiving the design. 
 
 There is also another alleviation of the husband s dis 
 tress ; he generally has the privilege of a small room or 
 closet for his books and papers, the key of which he is al 
 lowed to keep. This is considered as a privileged place, 
 and stands like the land of Goshen amid the plagues of 
 Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and 
 ever on his guard. For should he inadvertently go abroad 
 and leave the key in his door, the housemaid, who is al 
 ways on the watch for such an opportunity, immediately 
 enters in triumph with buckets, brooms, and brushes ; takes 
 possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books 
 and papers to rights : to his utter confusion, and sometimes 
 serious detriment. For instance : 
 
 A gentleman was sued by the executors of a tradesman, 
 on a charge found against him in the deceased s books, to 
 the amount of 301. The defendant was strongly impressed 
 with an idea that he had discharged the debt and taken a 
 receipt; but, as the transaction was of long standing, he 
 knew not where lo find the receipt. The suit went on in 
 
250 CUSTOM OF WHITE- WASHING 
 
 course, and the time approached whea judgment would be 
 obtained against him. He then sat seriously down to ex 
 amine a large bundle of old papers, which he had untied 
 and displayed on a table for that purpose. In the midst of 
 his search, he was suddenly called away on business of im 
 portance ; he forgot to lock the door of his room. The 
 house-maid, who had been long- looking out for such an op 
 portunity, immediately entered with the usual implements, 
 and with great alacrity fell to cleaning the room, and putting 
 things to rights. The first object that struck her eye was 
 the confused situation of the papers on the table ; these 
 were without delay bundled together like so many dirty 
 knives and forks ; but in the action a small piece of paper 
 fell unnoticed on the floor, which happened to be the very 
 receipt in question : as it had no very respectable appear 
 ance, it was soon after swept out with the common dirt of 
 the room, and carried in a rubbish pan into the yard. The 
 tradesman had neglected to enter the credit in his book ; 
 the defendant could find nothing to obviate the charge, and 
 so judgment went against him for the debt and costs. A 
 fortnight after the whole was settled, and the money paid, 
 one of children found the receipt among the rubbish in the 
 yard. 
 
 There is also another custom peculiar to the city of 
 Philadelphia, and nearly allied to the former. I mean that 
 of washing the pavement before the doors every Saturday 
 evening. I at first took this to be a regulation of the po 
 lice : but on a further inquiry find it is a religious rite, 
 preparatory to the Sabbath ; and is, I believe, the only re 
 ligious rite in which the numerous sectaries of this city 
 perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about sun-set, and 
 continues till about ten or eleven at night. It is very 
 difficult for a stranger to walk the streets on those even 
 ings ; he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty 
 water thrown against his legs: but aPhiladelphian born is 
 
AMONG THE AMERICANS. 251 
 
 so much accustomed to the danger, that he avoids it with 
 surprising dexterity. It is from this circumstance that a 
 Philadelphia!) may be known any where by his gait. The 
 streets of New York are paved with rough stones; these 
 indeed are not washed, but the dirt is so thoroughly swept 
 from before tne doors, that the stones stand up sharp and 
 prominent, to the great inconvenience of those who are not 
 accustomed to so rough a path. But habit reconciles 
 every tiling. It is diverting enough to see a Philadelphian 
 at New York; he walks the streets with as much painful 
 caution, as if his toes were covered with corns, or his feet 
 lamed with the gout: while a New Yorker, as little ap 
 proving the plain masonry of Philadelphia, shuffles along 
 the pavement like a parrot on a mahogany table. 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that the ablutions I have 
 mentioned are attended with no small inconvenience ; but 
 the women would not be induced, from any consideration, 
 to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I can 
 give you the strongest assurances, that the women of 
 America make the most faithful wives and the most atten 
 tive mothers in the world; and I am sure you will join me 
 in opinion, that if a married man is made miserable only one 
 week in a whole year, he will have no great cause to com 
 plain of the matrimonial bond. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 Answer to the above. 
 SIB, 
 
 J have lately seen a letter upon the subject of whiter 
 washing, in which that necessary duty of a good house 
 wife is treated with unmerited ridicule. I should probably 
 have forgot the foolish thing by this time; but the season 
 coining on which most women think suitable for cleansing 
 
252 CUSTOM OF WHITE- WASHING. 
 
 their apartments from the smoke and dirt of the winter, I 
 find this saucy author dished up in every family, and his 
 flippant performance quoted wherever a wife attempts to 
 exercise her reasonable prerogative, or execute the duties 
 of her station. Women generally employ their time to 
 better purpose than scribbling-. The cares and comforts 
 of a family rest principally upon their shoulders ; hence it 
 is that there are but few female authors; and the men, 
 knowing how necessary our attentions are to their happi 
 ness, take every opportunity of discouraging literary ac 
 complishments in the fair sex. You hear it echoed from 
 every quarter " My wife cannot make verses, it is true ; 
 but she makes an excellent pudding ; she cannot correct 
 the press, but she can correct her children, and scold 
 her servants with admirable discretion : she cannot un 
 ravel the intricacies of political economy and federal go 
 vernment, but she can knit charming stockings." And this 
 they call praising a wife, and doing justice to her character, 
 with much nonsense of the like kind. 
 
 I say, women generally employ their time to much bet 
 ter purpose than scribbling; otherwise this facetious writer 
 had not gone so long unanswered* We have ladies who 
 sometimes Jay down the needle, and take up the pen ; I 
 wonder none of them have attempted some reply. For my 
 part, I do not pretend to be an author. I never appeared 
 in print in my life, but I can no longer forbear saying 
 something in answer to such impertinence, circulate how 
 it may. Only, Sir, consider our situation. Men are na 
 turally inattentive to the decencies of life ; but why should 
 J be so complaisant? I say, they are naturally filthy 
 creatures. If it were not that their connection with the 
 refined sex polished their manners, and had a happy in 
 fluence on the general economy of life, these lords of the 
 creation would wallow in filth, and populous cities would 
 Defect the atmosphere with their noxious vapours. It is 
 
AMONG THE AMERICANS, 253 
 
 the attention and assiduity of the women that prevent men 
 from degenerating into mere swine. How important then 
 are the services we render ; and yet foe these very services 
 we are made the subject of ridicule and fun. Base ingra 
 titude ! Nauseous creatures ! Perhaps you may think I 
 am in a passion. No, Sir, I do assure you I never was 
 more composed in my life ; and yet it is enough to provoke 
 a saint to see how unreasonably we are treated by the men. 
 Why now, there s my husband a good enough sort of a 
 man in the main but I will give you a sample of him. 
 
 He comes into the parlour the other day, where, to be 
 sure, I was cutting up a piece of linen " Lord!" says he, 
 " what a flutter here is ! I can t bear to see the parlour 
 look like a taylor s shop : besides, I am going to make some 
 important philosophical experiments, and must have suffi 
 cient room." You must know, my husband is one of your 
 would-be philosophers. Well, I bundled up my linen as 
 quick as I could, and began to darn a pair of ruffles, which 
 took no room, and could give no offence. I thought, how 
 ever, I would watch my lord and master s important busi 
 ness. In about half an hour, the tables were covered with 
 all manner of trumpery ; bottles of water, phials of drugs, 
 pasteboard, paper, and cardvS, glue, paste, and gum-arabic ; 
 tiles, knives, scissars, and needles ; rosin, wax, silk, thread, 
 rags, jags, tags, books, pamphlets, and papers. Lord 
 bless me ! I am almost out of breath, and yet I have not 
 enumerated half the articles ; well, to work he went, and 
 although I did not understand the object of his manoeuvres, 
 yet I could sufficiently discover that he did not succeed in 
 any one operation. I was glad of that, I confess, and with 
 good reason too : for, after he had fatigued himself with 
 mischief, like a monkey in a china-shop, and had called the 
 servants to clear every thing away, I took a view of the 
 scene my parlour exhibited. I shall not even attempt a 
 jninute description ; suffice it to say, that he bad overset 
 
254 CUSTOM OF WHITE- WASHING 
 
 his ink-stand, and stained my best mahogany table with 
 ink : he had spilt a quantity of vitriol, and burnt a large 
 hole in my carpet : my marble hearth was all over spotted 
 with melted rosin ; besides this, he had broken three china 
 cups, four wine glasses, two tumblers, and one of my hand 
 somest decanters. And, after all, as I said before, I per 
 ceived that he had not succeeded in any one operation. 
 By the bye, tell your friend, the white-wash scribbler, that 
 this is one means by which our closets become furnished 
 with " halves of china bowls, cracked tumblers, broken 
 wine-glasses, tops of tea-pots, and stoppers of departed 
 decanters." I say, I took a view of the dirt and devasta 
 tion my philosophic husband had occasioned ; and there I 
 sat, like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief: but it 
 worked inwardly. I would almost as soon the melted rosin 
 and vitriol had been in his throat, as on my dear marble 
 hearth, and my beautiful carpet. It is not true that wo 
 men have no power over their own feelings ; for, notwith 
 standing this provocation, I said nothing, or next to no 
 thing : for I only observed, very pleasantly, what a lady of 
 my acquaintance had told me, that the reason why philoso 
 phers are called literary men, is because they make a great 
 litter: not a word more; however, the servant cleared 
 away, and down sat the philosopher. A friend dropt in 
 soon after" Your servant, Sir, how do you do?" "*O 
 Lord ! I am almost fatigued to death ; I have been all the 
 morning making philosophical experiments." I was now 
 more hardly put to it to smother a laugh, than I had been 
 just before to contain my rage : my precious went out soon 
 after, and I, as you may suppose, mustered all my forces ; 
 brushes, buckets, soap, sand, limeskins, and cocoa-nut 
 shells, with all the powers of housewifery, were immedi 
 ately employed. I was certainly the best philosopher of 
 the two ; for my experiments succeeded, and his did not. 
 All was well again, except my poor carpet -my vitriolized 
 
AMONG THE iMEHICAMS 855 
 
 carpet, vhicli still continued a mournful momento of 
 philosophic fury, or rather philosophic folly. The ope 
 ration was scarce over, when in came my experimental 
 philosopher, and told me, with all the indifference in 
 the world, that he had invited six gentlemen to dine 
 with him at three o clock. It was then past one. I 
 complained of the short notice. " Poh ! poh!" said 
 he, " you can get a leg of mutton, and a loin of veal, 
 and a few potatoes, which will do well enough." Heaven ! 
 what a chaos must the head of a philosopher be ! a leg of 
 mutton, a loin of veal, and potatoes ! I was at a loss whe 
 ther I should laugh or be angry ; but there was no time 
 lor determining : I had but an hour and a half to do a 
 world of business in. My carpet, which had suffered in the 
 cause of experimental philosophy in the morning, was 
 destined to be most shamefully dishonoured in the after 
 noon by a deluge of nasty tobacco juice. Gentlemen 
 smokers love segars better than carpets. Think, Sir, what 
 a woman must endure under such circumstances : and then, 
 after all, to be reproached with cleanliness, and to have 
 her white-washings, her scourings, and scrubbings, made 
 the subject of ridicule : it is more than patience can put 
 up with. What I have now exhibited is but a small spe 
 cimen of the injuries we sustain from the boasted superi 
 ority of men. But we will not be laughed out of our 
 cleanliness. A woman would rather be called any thing than 
 a slut, as a man would rather be thought a knave than a 
 fool. I had a great deal more to say, but am called away ; 
 we are just preparing to white-wash, and of course I have 
 a deal of business on my hands. The white- wash buckets 
 are paraded, the brushes are ready, my husband is gone off 
 so much the better; when we are upon a thorough 
 cleaning, the first dirty thing to be removed is one s hus 
 band. 1 am called for again. Adieu. 
 
ADVICE GOING TO SEA. 
 
 * Advice to those who are about to undertake a sea voyage* 
 
 When you intend to take a long voyage, nothing is 
 Letter than to, keep it a secret till the moment of your de 
 parture. Without this, you will 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 thousand things which you wish to remem 
 ber ; so that when you are embarked, and fairly at sea, you 
 recollect, with much uneasiness, affairs which you have not 
 terminated, accounts that you have not settled, and a num 
 ber of things which you proposed to carry with you, and 
 which you find the want of every moment. Would it not 
 be attended with the best consequences to reform such a 
 custom, and to suffer a traveller, 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 depend upon this choice, and though one must for 
 a time be confined to his company, and be in some mea 
 sure 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 de 
 scription, but they are not common; however, ifyour s be 
 not of this number, if he be a good seaman, attentive, care 
 ful, and active in the management of his vessel, you must 
 dispense with the rest, for these are the most essential 
 qualities. 
 
 Whatever right you may have, by your agreement with 
 him, to 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 occasionally. You 
 
ADVICE GOING TO SEA. 
 
 .ought, therefore, to provide good water, that of the ship. 
 being often bad; but you must put it into bottles, without 
 which you cannot expect to preserve it sweet. \ ou ought 
 also to carry with you good tea, ground coffee, chocolate, 
 wine of that sort which you like best, cyder, dried raisins, 
 almonds, sugar, capillaire, citrons, rum, eggs dipped in oil, 
 portable soup, bread twice baked. With regard to poul 
 try, it is almost useless td carry any with you, unless you 
 resolve to undertake the office of feeding and fattening 
 them yourself. With the little care which is taken of them 
 on board a ship, they are almost all sickly, and their flesh 
 is as tough as leather. 
 
 All sailors entertain an opinion, which has undoubtedly 
 originated formerly from a want of water, and when it has 
 been found necessary to be sparing of it, that poultry 
 never know when they have drank enough, and that, when 
 water is given them at discretion, they generally kill them 
 selves by drinking beyond measure. 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 run to the lower part, it thence happens that they are 
 obliged to mount one upon the back of another in order to 
 reach it; and there are some which cannot even 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 ; 
 while those which are killed for the table are scarcely fit 
 to be eaten. To remedy this inconvenience, it will be ne 
 cessary to divide their troughs into small compartments, in 
 such a manner, that each of them may be capable of con 
 taining water; but this is seldom or never done. On 
 this account, sheep and hogs aie to be considered as 
 the best fresh provisions that one can have at sea; 
 
 s 
 
258 ADVICE GOING TO SEA, 
 
 mutton there being in general very good, and pork ex 
 cellent. 
 
 It may happen that some of the provisions and stores, 
 which I have recommended, may become almost uselessly 
 the care which the captain has taken to lay in a proper 
 stock: but in such a case you may dispose of it to relieve 
 the poor passengers, who, paying less for their passage, 
 are stowed among the common sailors, and have nt> right 
 to the captain s provisions, except such part of -them as ifr 
 nsed for feeding the crew. These passengers are some 
 times sick, melancholy, and dejected ; and there are often 
 women and children among them, neither of whom have 
 any opportunity of procuring those things which I have 
 mentioned, and of which, perhaps, they have the greatest 
 need. By distributing amongst them a part of your su 
 perfluity, you may be of the greatest assistance to them. 
 You may restore their health, save their lives, and in short 
 render them happy; which always affords the liveliest sen 
 sation to a feeling mind. 
 
 The most disagreeable thing at sea is the cookery; for 
 there is not, properly speaking, any professed cook oa 
 board. The worst sailor is generally chosen for that pur 
 pose, 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. Those, however, 
 who have a better opinion of Providence, will think other 
 wise. Knowing that sea air, and 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 eating too much ; or that, knowing they would 
 Lave 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 u link- 
 
, ADVICE GOING TO SEA. 2oS> 
 
 spirits of wine, prepare some food, such as soup, hash, Sec. 
 A small oven made of tin-plate is not a bad pieee of iur- 
 niture; 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 cyder 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- 
 baked 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 consequently 
 forms excellent nourishment, much superior to that of bis 
 cuit, 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 means 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 compartments; forming 
 small plates, proper for containing soup for one person 
 only. By this disposition, 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. Having entertained you with these things of little 
 importance, permit me now to conclude with some general 
 reflections upon navigation. 
 
 When navigation is employed only for transporting ne- 
 
 * It is derived from bis again, and cuit baked. 
 s 2 
 
260 ADVICE GOING TO SEA. 
 
 tfessary provisions from bne country, where they abound, fo 
 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 consi 
 dering it as one of those arts which contribute most to the 
 happiness of mankind. But when it is employed to transport 
 things of no utility, or articles of luxury, it is then uncer 
 tain whether the advantages resulting from it are sufficient 
 to counterbalance the misfortunes it occasions by exposing 
 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 cala 
 mities which afflict human nature. 
 
 I One is astonished to think on the number of vessels and 
 men who are daily exposed in going to bring tea from 
 China, coffee from Arabia, and sugar and tobacco from 
 America; all commodities which 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 tobacco, little can be said , 
 and, with regard to sugar, how much more meritorious 
 would it be to sacrifice the momentary pleasure which we 
 receive from drinking it once or twice a day in our tea, 
 than to encourage the numberless cruelties that are conti 
 nually exercised in order to procure it for us? 
 
 A celebrated French moralist said, that, when he consi 
 dered the wars which we foment in Africa to get negroes ; 
 the great number who of course perish in these wars ; the 
 multitude of those wretches who die in their passage, by 
 disease, bad air, and bad provisions ; 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 ima 
 gining it to be covered with spots of human blood. But, 
 had he added to these considerations the wars which we 
 carry on against one another, to take and retake the islands 
 
OF SWIMMING. 261 
 
 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 al 
 most 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 the fleets and armies which, serve to defend and 
 protect the countries that produce it. 
 
 TO MR. OLIVER NEALE. 
 On the Art of Swimming. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I cannot be of opinion with you that it is too late in life 
 for you to learn to swim. The river near the bottom of 
 your garden affords a most convenient place for the pur 
 pose. And as your new employment requires your being 
 often on the water, of which you have such a dread, I think 
 you would do well to make the trial ; nothing being so 
 likelyjto remove those apprehensions as the consciousness 
 of an ability to swim to the shore, in case of an accident, 
 or of supporting yourself in the water till a boat could 
 come to take- you up. 
 
 I do not know how far corks or bladders may be useful 
 in learning to swim, having never seen much trial of them. 
 Possibly they may be of service in supporting the body 
 while you are learning what is called the stroke, or that 
 manner of drawing in and striking out the hands and feet 
 that is necessary to produce progressive motion. But 
 you will be no swimmer till you can place some confidence 
 
262 ART OF SWIMMING. 
 
 in the power of the water to support you ; I would there* 
 fore advise the acquiring that confidence in the first place; 
 especially as 1 have known several who, by a little of the 
 practice necessary for that purpose, have insensibly ac 
 quired the stroke, taught as it were by nature. 
 
 The practice 1 mean is this, Choosing a place where 
 the water deepens gradually, walk coolly into it till it is up 
 to your breast, then turn round, your iace to the shore, 
 and throw an egg into the water between you and the 
 shore. It will sink to the bottom, and be easily seen there, 
 as your water is clear. It must lie in water so deep as 
 that you cannot reach it to take it up but by diving for it. 
 To encourage yourself in order to do this, reflect that 
 your progress will be from deeper to shallower water and 
 that at any time you may, by bringing your legs under you 
 and standing on the bottom, raise your head far above the 
 water. Then plunge under it with your eyes open, throw 
 ing yourself towards the egg, and endeavouring by the ac 
 tion of your hands and feet against the water to get for 
 ward till within reach of it. In this attempt you will find, 
 that the water buoys you up against your inclination; that 
 it is not so easy a thing to sink as you imagined ; that you 
 cannot but by active force get down to the egg. Thus 
 you feel the power of the water to support you, and learn 
 to confide in that power; while your endeavours to over 
 come it, and to reach the egg, teach you the manner of 
 acting on the water with your feet and hands, which action 
 is afterwards used in swimming to support your head higher 
 above water, or to go forward through it. 
 
 I would the more earnestly press you to the trial of this 
 method, because, though 1 think I satisfied you that your 
 bodj is lighter lhaa water, and that you might float in it a 
 long time with your mouth free for breathing, if you would 
 put yourself in a proper posture, and would be still and 
 forbear struggling ; yet, till you have obtained this 
 
ART OF SWIMMING. 2G3 
 
 confidence in the water, I cannot depend on your 
 Laving the necessary presence of mind to recollect that 
 posture and the directions I gave you relating to it. The 
 surprise may put all out of your mind. For though we va 
 lue ourselves on being- reasonable knowing creatures, rea 
 son and knowledge seem on such occasions to be of little 
 use to us ; and the brutes, to whom we allow scarce a glim 
 mering of either, appear to have the advantage of us. 
 
 I will, however, take this opportunity of repeating those 
 particulars to you, which I mentioned in our last conver 
 sation, as, by perusing them at your leisure, you may pos 
 sibly imprint them so in your memory as on occasion to be 
 of some use to you. 
 
 1. That though the legs, arms, and head of a human 
 body, being solid parts, are specifically something heavier 
 than fresh water, yet the trunk, particularly the upper part, 
 from its hollowness, is so much lighter than water, as that 
 the whole of the body taken together is too light to sink, 
 wholly under water, but some part will remain above, until 
 the lungs become filled with water, which happens from 
 drawing water into them instead of air, when a person in 
 the fright attempts breathing while the mouth and nostrils 
 are under water. 
 
 2. That the legs and arms are specifically lighter than 
 salt water, and will be supported by it ; so that a human 
 body would not sink in salt water, though the lungs were 
 filled as above, but from the greater specific gravity of the 
 bead. 
 
 3. That therefore a person throwing himself on his 
 back in salt water, and extending his arms, may easily lie 
 so as to keep his mouth and nostrils free for breathing ; 
 and by a small motion of his hands may prevent turning, if 
 be should perceive any tendency to it. 
 
 4. That in fresh water, if a man throws himself on his 
 back, near the surface, he cannot lon^ continue in that si- 
 
264 ART OF SWIMMING. 
 
 tuation but by the proper action of his hands on the water 
 If he uses no such action, the legs and lower part of the 
 body will gradually sink till he comes into an upright posi 
 tion, in which he will continue suspended, the hollow of the 
 breast keeping the head uppermost. 
 
 5. But if, in this erect position, the head is kept upright 
 above the shoulders, as when we stand on the ground, the 
 immersion \vill, by the weight of that part of the head that 
 is out of water, reach above the mouth and nostrils, per 
 haps a little above the eyes, so that a man cannot long re 
 main suspended in water with his head in that position. 
 
 6. The body continuing suspended as before, and up 
 right, if the head be leaned quite back, so that the face 
 looks upwards, all the back part of the head being then 
 under water, and its weight consequently in a great mea 
 sure supported by it, the face will remain above water quite 
 free for breathing, will rise an inch higher every inspiration, 
 and sink as much every expiration, but never so low as that 
 the water may come over the mouth. 
 
 7. If therefore a person unacquainted with swimming, 
 and falling accidentally into the water, could have presence 
 of mind sufficient to avoid struggling and plunging, and to 
 let the body take this natural position, he might continue 
 long safe from drowning till perhaps help would come. For 
 as to the clothes, their additional weight while immersed is 
 very inconsiderable, the water supporting it, though when 
 he come out of the water, he would find them very heavy 
 indeed. 
 
 But, as I said before, I Avould not advise you or any 
 one to depend on having this presence of mind on such an 
 occasion, but learn fairly to swim ; as I wish all men were 
 taught to do in their youth : they would, on many occur 
 rences, be the safer for having that skill, and on many more 
 the happier, as free from painful apprehensions of danger, 
 to say nothing of the enjoyment in so delightful and whole- 
 
ART OF SWIMMING. 265 
 
 some an exercise. Soldiers particularly should, 
 4ill be taught to swim ; it might be of frequent use either in 
 surprising an enemy, or saving themselves. And if I had 
 now boys to educate, I should prefer those schools (other 
 things being equal) where an opportunity was afforded for 
 acquiring so advantageous an art, which once learned is 
 never forgotten. 
 
 I am, Sir, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 On the same Subject, in Answer to some Inquiries ofM. 
 Dubourg. 
 
 * * * I am apprehensive that I shall not be able to find 
 leisure for making all the disquisitions and experiments 
 which would be desirable on this subject. I must, there 
 fore, content myselt with a few remarks. 
 
 The specific gravity of some human bodies, in compari 
 son to that of water, has been examined by Mr. 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 the water. 
 
 The diving-bell is accurately described in our Transac 
 tions. 
 
 When I 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 resembled 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. I remember I 
 swam faster by means of these pallets, but they fatigued 
 my wrists. I also fitted to the soles of my feet a kind of 
 sandals ; but I was not satisfied with them, because I ob- 
 
266 AUT OF SWIMMING. 
 
 served that the stroke is partly given by the inside of tiro 
 feet and the ancles, 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 be* 
 tween them. 
 
 J know nothing of the scaphandre of M. de la Chapelle. 
 
 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, arid to vary in other respects 
 
 the means of procuring a progressive motion. 
 
 When he is seized with the cramp in the leg, the me 
 thod of driving it away is to give to the parts affected 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 imprudence which may prove 
 fatal. I once knew an instance of four young men, who, 
 having worked at harvest in the heat of the day, with a view 
 of refreshing themselves 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 at 
 tended 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. Per 
 haps, 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 
 
OF SWIMMING. 267 
 
 \vho do not know how to swim, or who are affected with a 
 diarrhoea at a season which does not permit them to use 
 that exercise, a warm bath, hy cleansing and purifying the 
 skin, is found very salutary, and often etfects a radical cure, 
 I speak from my own experience, frequently repeated, and 
 that of others to whom I have recommended this. 
 
 You will not be displeased if I conclude these hasty re 
 marks by informing- you, that as the ordinary method of 
 swimming is reduced to the act of rowing with the arms 
 and legs, and is consequently a laborious and fatiguing- 
 operation when the space of wuter to be crossed is consi 
 derable ; there is a method in which a swimmer may pass 
 to great distances with much facility, by means of a sail. 
 This discovery I fortunately made by accident, and in the 
 following manner. 
 
 When 1 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 thd 
 kite ascended to a very considerable height above the 
 pond, while 1 was swimming. In a little time, being de 
 sirous of amusing myself with my kite, and enjoying at the 
 same t ; me 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, I was drawn along the surface of the water in a very 
 agreeable 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 pleasure imaginable. 
 J was only obliged occasionally to halt a little in my course, 
 and resist its progress, when it appeared that, by following 
 too quick, I lowered the kite loo much: by doing which 
 occasionally I made it rise again. I have &ever since that 
 
268 FREE USE OF AIR. 
 
 time practised this singular mode of swimming, though I 
 think it not impossible to cross in this manner from 
 Dover to Calais. The packet-boat, however, is still pre 
 ferable. * * * 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO M. DUBOURG. 
 On the free Use of Air. 
 
 London, July 28, 1760. 
 
 * * * I greatly approve the epithet which you give, in 
 your letter of the 8th of June, to the new method of treat 
 ing the small-pox, which you call the tonic or bracing me 
 thod ; I will take occasion from it to mention 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 speak 
 ing, as too violent, and I have found it much more agree 
 able to my constitution to bathe in another element, I mean 
 cold air. With this view I rise 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 return 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. * * * 
 
 B, FRANKLIN 
 
MUSICAL GLASSES. 269 
 
 TO THE REV. FATHER BECCARIA. 
 
 Describing a new Musical Instrument composed of 
 Glasses. ^ ;j, 
 
 REV. SIR, London, July 13, 1762. 
 
 I once promised myself the pleasure of seeing you at 
 Turing but as that is not now likely to happen, being just 
 about returning to my native country, America, I sit down 
 to take leave of you (among others of my European friends 
 that I cannot see) by writing. 
 
 I thank you for the honourable mention you have so fre 
 quently made of me in your letters to Mr. Collinson and 
 others ; for the generous defence you undertook, and exe 
 cuted with so much success, of my electrical opinions; and 
 for the valuable present you have made me of your new 
 work, from which I have received great information and 
 pleasure. I wish I could in return entertain you with any 
 thing new of* mine on that subject; but I have not lately 
 pursued it. Nor do T know of any one here that is at pre 
 sent much engaged in it. 
 
 Perhaps, however, it may be agreeable to you, as you 
 live in a musical country, to have an account of the new in 
 strument lately added here to the great number that charm 
 ing science was before possessed of. As it is an instru 
 ment that seems peculiarly adapted to Italian music, espe 
 cially that of the soft and plaintive kind, I will endeavour 
 to give you such a description of it, and of the manner of 
 constructing it, that you or any of your friends may be 
 enabled to imitate it, if you incline so to do, without being 
 at the expense and trouble of the many experiments T 
 have made in endeavouring to bring it to its present per 
 fection. 
 
 You hare doubtless heard the sweet tone that is drawn 
 from a drinking glass, by passing a wet finger round its 
 
270 MUSICAL GLASSES. 
 
 brim. One Mr. Puckeridge, a gentleman from Irelancf, 
 was the first who thought of playing tunes, formed of 
 these tones. He collected a number of glasses of dif 
 ferent sizes, fixed them near each other on a table, and 
 tuned them by putting- into them water, more or less, as 
 each note required. The tones were brought out by 
 passing his fingers round their brims. -He was unfortu 
 nately burned here, with his instrument, in a fire which 
 consumed the house he lived in. Mr. E. DelavaJ, a most 
 ingenious member of our Royal Society, made one in imi 
 tation of it, with a better choice and form of glasses, which 
 was the first I saw or heard. .Being charmed with the 
 sweetness of its tones, and the music he produced from it, 
 T wished only to see the glasses disposed in a more con 
 venient form, and brought together in a narrower compass, 
 so as to admit of a greater number of tones, and all within 
 reach of hand to a person sitting before the instrument, 
 which I accomplished, after various intermediate trials, and 
 less commodious forms, both of glasses and construction, 
 in the following manner. 
 
 The glasses are blown as near as possible in the form of 
 hemispheres, having each an open neck or socket in the 
 middle. The thickness of the glass near the brim about a 
 tenth of an inch, or handly quite so much, but thicker as it 
 comes nearer the neck, which in the largest glasses is 
 about an inch deep, and an inch and half wide within, these 
 dimensions lessening as the glasses themselves diminish in 
 size, except that the neck of the smallest ought not to be 
 shorter than half an inch. The largest glass is nine inches, 
 diameter, and the smallest three inches. Between these 
 three are twenty- three different sizes, differing from each 
 other a quarter of an inch in diameter. To make a single 
 instrument there should be at least six glasses blown of 
 each size : and out of this number one nmy probably pick 
 thirty-seven glasses (which are sufficient for three octaves 
 
MUSICAL GLASSES. 271 
 
 with all the semitones) that will be each either the note one 
 wants, or a little sharper than that note, and all fitting so 
 well into each other as to taper pretty regularly from the 
 .argest to the smallest. It is true there are not thirty- 
 seven sizes, but it often happens that two of the same size 
 differ a note or half note in tone, by reason of a difference 
 in thickness, and these may be placed one in the other with 
 out sensibly hurting the regularity of the taper form. 
 
 The glasses being chosen, and every one marked with a 
 diamond the note you intend it for, they are to be turned 
 by diminishing the thickness of those that are too sharp. 
 This is done by grinding them round from the neck to 
 wards the brim, the breadth of one or two inches, as may 
 be required ; often trying the glass by a well-tuned harp 
 sichord, comparing the tone drawn from the glass by your 
 finger, with the note you want, as sounded by that string 
 of the harpsichord. When you come nearer the matter, 
 be careful to wipe the glass clean and dry before each 
 trial, because the tone is something flatter when the glass 
 is wet, than it will be when dry : and, grinding a very lit 
 tle between each trial, you will thereby tune to great ex 
 actness. The more care is necessary in this, because if 
 you go below your required tone, there is no sharpening it 
 again but by grinding somewhat oil" the brim, which will af 
 terwards require polishing, and thus increase the trouble. 
 
 The glasses being thus tuned, you are to be provided 
 with a case for them, and a spindle on which they are to be 
 fixed. My case is about three feet long, eleven inches 
 every way wide within at the biggest end, and five inches 
 at the smallest end ; for it tapers all the way, to adapt it 
 better to the conical figure of the set of glasses. This 
 case opens in the middle of its height, and the upper part 
 turns up by hinges fixed behind. The spindle, which is of 
 hard iron, lies horizontally from end to end of the box 
 within, exactly in the middle, and is made to turn on brass 
 
272 MUSICAL GLASSES. 
 
 gudgeons at each end. It is round, an inch diameter at 
 the thickest end, and tapering to a quarter of an inch at 
 the smallest. A square shank comes from its thickest end 
 through the b.ox, on which shank a wheel is fixed by a 
 -screw. This wheel serves as a fly to make the motion 
 equable, when the spindle, with the glasses, is turned by 
 the foot like a spinning-wheel. My wheel is of mahogany, 
 eighteen inches diameter, and pretty thick, so as to conceal 
 near its circumference about 251b. of lead. An ivory pin 
 is fixed in the face of this wheel, and about four inches 
 >from the axis. Over the neck of this pin is put the loop of 
 the string that comes up from the moveable step to give it 
 motion. The case stands on a neat frame with four legs. 
 To fix the glasses on the spindle, a cork is first to be 
 fitted in each neck pretty tight, and projecting a little 
 without the neck, that the neck of one may not touch the 
 inside of another when put together, for that would make a 
 jarring. These corks are to be perforated with holes of 
 different diameters, so as to suit that part of the spindle 
 on which they are to be fixed. When a glass is put on, by 
 holding it stiffly between both hands, while Another turns 
 the spindle, it may be gradually brought to its place. But 
 care must be taken that the hole be not too small, lest in 
 forcing it up the neck should split: nor too large, lest the 
 glass not being firmly fixed should turn or move on the 
 spindle, so as to touch and jar against its neighbouring 
 glass. The glasses thus are placed one in another, the 
 largest on the biggest end of the spindle which is to the 
 left hand ; the neck of this glass is towards the wheel, and 
 the next goes into it in the same position, only about an 
 inch of its brim appearing beyond the brim of the first ; 
 thus proceeding, every glass when fixed shews about an 
 inch of its brim (or three quarters of an inch, or half an 
 inch, as they grow smaller) beyond the brim of the glass 
 that contains it ; and it is from these exposed parts of each 
 
.-jjj; MUSICAL GLASSES. 
 
 glass that the tone is drawn, by laying a finger upon one of 
 them as the spindle and glasses turn round. 
 
 My largest glass is G, a little below the reach of a com 
 mon voice, and my highest G, including three complete 
 octaves. To distinguish the glasses the more readily to 
 the eye, I have painted the apparent parts of the glasses 
 within side, every semitone white, and the other notes of 
 the octave with the seven prismatic colours, viz. C red, D 
 orange, E yellow, F green, G blue, A indigo, B purple, 
 and C red again ; so that glasses of the same colour (the 
 white excepted) are always octaves to each other. 
 
 This instrument is played upon, by sitting before the 
 middle of the set of glasses as before the keys of a harpsi 
 chord, turning them with the foot, and wetting them now 
 and then with a spunge and clean water. The fingers 
 should be first a little soaked in water, and quite free from 
 all greasiness ; a little fine chalk upon them is sometimes 
 useful, to make them catch the glass and bring out the 
 tone more readily. Both hands are used, by which means 
 different parts are played together. Observe, that the tones 
 are best drawn out when the glasses turn from the ends of 
 the fingers, not when they turn to them. 
 
 The advantages of this instrument are, that its tones are 
 incomparably sweet beyond those of any other ; that they 
 may be swelled and softened at pleasure by stronger or 
 weaker pressures of the finger* and continued to any 
 length; and that the instrument, being once v/ell tuned, 
 never again wants tuning. 
 
 In honour of your musical language, I Lave borrowed 
 from it the name of this instrument, calling \tthe4rmonica. 
 With great esteem and respect, I am, &c. 
 
 B, FRANK LEV. 
 
274 MEDIUMS OF CONVEYING SOUND, 
 
 TO MR. OLIVER NEALE, 
 
 On flie lest Mediums for conveying Sound. 
 
 DEAR SIR, July 20, 1762, 
 
 I have perused your paper on sound, and would freely 
 mention to you, as you desire it, every thing that appeared 
 to me to need correction : but nothing of that kind occurs, 
 to me, unless it be, where you speak of the air as " the 
 l)est medium for conveying- sound." Perhaps this is speak 
 ing rather too positively, if there be, as I think there are^ 
 some other mediums that will convey it farther and more 
 readily. It is a well-known experiment, that the scratch 
 ing of a pin, at one end of a long pieee of timber, may be 
 heard by an ear applied near the other end, thongh it- 
 could not be heard at the same distance through the air- 
 And two stones being struck smartly together under 
 water, the stroke may be heard at a greater distance by 
 an ear also placed under water, than it can be heard 
 through the air. I think I have heard it near a mile : how 
 much farther it may be heard I know not; but suppose a 
 great deal farther, because the sound did not seem faint r 
 as if at a distance, like distant sounds through air, but 
 smart and strong, and as if present just at the ear. I wish 
 you would repeat these experiments now you are upon 
 the subject, and add your own observations. And if you 
 were to repeat, with your naturally exact attention and ob 
 servation, the common experiment of the bell in the ex* 
 hausted receiver, possibly something new may occur to 
 you, in considering, 
 
 1. Whether the experiment is not ambiguous; /. e. 
 whether the gradual exhausting of the air, as it creates an 
 increasing difference of pressure on the outside, may not 
 occasion in the glass a difficulty of vibrating, that renders 
 it -less fit to communicate to the air without, the vibrations- 
 
MEDIUMS OF CONVEYING SOUND. 2 
 
 that strike it From within ; and the diminution of the sound 
 arise from this cause, rather than from the diminution of the 
 air ? 
 
 2. Whether as the particles of air themselves are at a 
 distance from each other, there must not be some medium 
 between them, proper for conveying sound, since otherwise 
 it would stop at the first particle? 
 
 3. Whether the great difference we experience in hear 
 ing sounds at a distance, when the wind blows towards us 
 from the sonorous body, or towards that from us, can be 
 well accounted for by adding to or subtracting from the 
 swiftness of sound, the degree of swiftness that is in the 
 wind at the time ? The latter is so small in proportion, 
 that it seems as if it could Scarce produce any sensible 
 effect, and yet the difference is very great. Does not this 
 give some hint, as if there might be a subtle fluid, the con 
 ductor of sound, which moves at different times in different 
 directions over the surface of the earth, and whose motion 
 may perhaps be much swifter than that of the air in our 
 strongest winds : and that, in passing through air, it may 
 communicate that motion to the air which we call wind; 
 though a motion in no degree so swift as its own ? 
 
 4. It is somewhere related, that a pistol, fired on the 
 top of an exceeding high mountain, made a noise like thun 
 der in the valleys below. Perhaps this fact is not exactly 
 related : but if it is, would not one imagine from it, that the 
 rarer the air, the greater sound might be produced in it 
 from the same cause ? 
 
 5. Those balls of fire which are sometimes seen passing 
 over a country, computed by philosophers to be often 
 tliirty miles high at least, sometimes burst at that height 
 the air must be exceeding rare there, and yet the explosfon 
 produces a sound that is heard at that distance, and for 
 seventy mites round on the surface of the cartel, so violent 
 too as to shake buildings, and give an apprehension of an 
 
 T 2 
 
276 MELODY OF THE 
 
 earthquake. Docs not this look as if a rare 
 almost a vacuum, was no bad conductor of sound ? 
 
 I have not made up my own mind on these points, and 
 only mention them for your consideration ; knowing tlmt 
 every subject is the better for your handling it. 
 , With the greatest esteem, I am, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TD LORD KAIMS, AT EDINBURGH. 
 On the Harmon?/ ami Melody of the old Scotch Tune?* 
 
 June 2, 1765. 
 
 * * * In my passage to America I read your excellent 
 work, the Elements of* Criticism, in which I found great 
 entertainment. I only wished you had examined more 
 fully the subject of music, and demonstrated that the 
 pleasure artists feel in hearing much of that composed in. 
 the modern taste, is not the natural pleasure arising from 
 melody or harmony of sounds, but of the same kind with 
 the pleasure we feel on seeing the surprising feats of turn 
 biers and rope-dancers, who execute difficult things. For 
 my part I take this to be really the ease,, and suppose it 
 the reason why those who are unpractised in music, ; and 
 therefore unacquainted with those difficulties, have little or 
 no pleasure in hearing this music. Many pieces of it are 
 mere composition of tricks. I have sometimes, at a con 
 cert, attended by a common audience, placed myself so as 
 to see all their faces, and observed no signs of pleasure in 
 them during the performance of a great part that was adi 
 mired by the performers themselves ; while a plain old 
 Scotch tune, which they disdained, and could scarcely be 
 prevailed on to play, gave manifest and general delight. 
 Give me leave, on this occasion, to extend a little th& 
 
OLD SCOTCH TUNES. 277 
 
 sense of your position, that " melody and barmony are se* 
 parately agreeable, and in union delightful," and to give it 
 as my opinion, tbat tbe reason why tbe Scotch tunes have 
 lived so long, and will probably live for ever (if they escape 
 being stifled in modern affected ornament) is merely this, 
 that they are really compositions of melody and harmony 
 united, or rather that their melody is Varmony. I mean 
 the simple tunes sung by a single voice. As this -will ap 
 pear paradoxical, I must explain my meaning. In com 
 mon acceptation, indeed, only an agreeable succession of 
 sounds is called melody, and only the co-existence of agree 
 able sounds, harmony. But since the memory is capable 
 of retaining for some moments a perfect idea of the pitch 
 of a past sound, so as to compare with it the pitch of a 
 succeeding sound, and judge truly of their agreement or 
 disagreement, there may and does arise from thence a 
 sense of harmony between the present and past sounds, 
 equally pleasing with that between two present sounds. 
 Now the construction of the old Scotch tunes is this, that 
 almost every succeeding emphatical note is a third, a fifth, 
 an octave, or in short some note that is in concord with the 
 preceding note. Thirds are chiefly used, which are very 
 pleasing concords. I use the word emphatical to distin 
 guish those notes which have a stress laid on them in sing 
 ing \he tune, from the lighter connecting notes, that serve 
 merely, like grammar articles in common speech, to tack 
 the whole together. 
 
 Tfcat we have a most perfect idea of a sound just past, I 
 might appeal to all acquainted with music, who know how 
 easy it is to repeat a sound in the same pitch with one just 
 heard. In tuning an instrument, a good ear can easily de 
 termine that two strings are in unison by sounding them 
 separately, as by sounding them together ; thejr disagree 
 ment is also as easily, I believe I may say more easily and 
 better distinguished, when sounded separately; for when 
 
27S MELODY OF THE 
 
 sounded tog-ether, though you know by the boating that 
 piic is higher than the other, yuu cannot tell which it is. 1 
 Jiave ascribed to memory the ability of comparing the 
 pitch of a present tone with that of one past. But if there 
 should lie, as possibly there may be, something- in the ear, 
 similar to what we find in the eye, that ability would not 
 be entirely owing to memory. Possibly the vibrations 
 given to the auditory nerves by a particular sound may 
 actually continue some time after the cause of those vibra 
 tions is past, and the agreement ov disagreement of a sub 
 sequent sound become by comparison with them more 
 discernible. For the impression made on. the visual nerves 
 by a luminous object will continue for twenty or thirty se 
 conds. Sitting in a room, look earnestly at the middle of 
 a window a little while when the day is bright, and then 
 shut your eyes; the figure of the window will still remain 
 in the eye, and so distinct that you may count the panes. 
 A remarkable circumstance attending this experiment, is, 
 Miat the impression of forms is better retained than that of 
 colours ; for after the eyes arc shut, when you first discern 
 the image of the window, the panes appear dark, and the 
 cross bars of the sashes, with the window frames and 
 \valls, appear white or bright ; but if you still add to the 
 darkness in the eyes by covering them with your hand, the 
 reverse instantly takes place, the panes appear luminous 
 and the ci oss. bars dark. And by removing the hand they 
 are again reversed. This I know not how to account for. 
 Kor for the following: that after looking long through 
 green spectacles, the white paper of a book will on first 
 takii.g ihem oil appear to have a blush of red ; and after 
 long looking through red glasses, a greenish cast; this 
 seems to intimate a relation between green and red not 
 yet explained. Further, when we consider by whom these 
 ancient tunes were composed, and how they were first per 
 formed, we shall see that such harmonica! successions of 
 
OLD SCOTCH TUNES. 279 
 
 strands were natural and even necessary in their construc 
 tion. They were composed by the minstrels of those days 
 to be played on the harp, accompanied by the voice. The 
 harp was strung with wire, which gives a sound of long con 
 tinuance, and had no contrivance like that in the modern 
 harpsichord, by which the sound of the preceding could be 
 stopt, the moment a succeeding note began. To avoid 
 actual discord, it wax therefore necessary that the succeed- > 
 ing emphatic note should be a chord with the preceding, as 
 their sounds must exist at the same time. Hence arose 
 that beauty in those tunes that has so long pleased, and 
 will please for ever, though men scarce know why. That 
 they were originally composed for the harp, and of the 
 most simple kind, I mean a harp without any half notes but 
 those in the natural scale, and with no more than two oc 
 taves of strings, from C to C, I conjecture from another 
 circumstance, which is, that not one of those tunes, really 
 ancient, has a single artificial half note in it, and that in 
 tunes where it was roost convenient for the voice to use 
 the middle notes of the harp, and place the key in F, there 
 the B, which ii used should be a B flat, is always omitted, 
 by passing over it with a third. The connoisseurs in mo 
 dern music will say, I have no taste ; but I cannot help 
 adding, that I believe our ancestors, in hearing a good 
 song, distinctly articulated, sung to one of those tunes, and 
 accompanied by the harp, felt more real pleasure than is 
 communicated by the generality of modern operas, exclu 
 sive of that arising from the scenery and dancing. Most 
 tunes of late composition, not having this natural harmony 
 united with tlreir melody, have recourse to the artificial 
 harmony of a bass, and other accompanying parts. This 
 support, in my opinion, the old tunes do not need, and are 
 rather confused than aided by it. Whoever has heard 
 James Oswald play them on his violoncello, will be less in 
 clined to dispute this with me. I have more than once seea 
 
tears of pleasure in the eyes of his auditors ; and yet, I 
 think, even his playing those tunes would please more, if 
 lie gave them less modern ornament. 
 I am, 8cc. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Of Lightning, and the best Method of guarding against 
 Us mischievous Effects 
 
 .Experiments made in electricity first gave philosophers 
 a suspicion, that the matter of lightning was the same with 
 the electric matter. Experiments aftewards made on 
 lightning, obtained from the clouds by pointed rods, re 
 ceived into bottles, ad subjected to every trial, have since 
 proved this suspicion to be perfectly well founded ; and that 
 whatever properties we find in electricity, are also the pro 
 perties of lightning. 
 
 This matter of lightning, or of electricity, is an extreme 
 subtle fluid, penetrating other bodies, and subsisting in 
 them, equally diffused. 
 
 When, by an operation of art or nature, there happens 
 to be a greater proportion of this fluid in one body than in 
 another, the body which has most will communicate to that 
 which has least, till the proportion becomes equal; pro 
 vided the distance between them be not too great; or, if it 
 is too great, till there be proper conductors to convey it 
 from one to the other. . .;fr 
 
 / If the communication be through the air without any 
 conductor, a bright light is seen between the bodies, and a 
 sound is heard. In our small experiments, we call this 
 light and sound the electric spark and snap ; but in tho 
 great operations of nature, the light is what we call light 
 ning, and the sound (produced at the same time, though 
 
ELECTRICITY. 281 
 
 generally arriving later at our cars than the liriit does to 
 our eyes) is, with its echoes, called thunder 
 
 If the communication of this fluid is by a conductor, it 
 may be without either light or sound, the subtle fluid 
 passing in the substance of the conductor. 
 
 If the conductor be good and of sufficient bigness, the 
 fluid passes through it without hurting it. If otherwise, it 
 is damaged or destroyed. 
 
 All metals, and water, are good conductors. Other 
 bodies may become conductors by having some quantity of 
 water in them, as wood, and other materials used in build 
 ing, but not having much water in them, they are not good 
 conductors, and therefore are often damaged in the ope 
 ration. 
 
 Glass, wax, silk, wool, hair, feathers, and even wood per 
 fectly dry, are non-conductors: that is, they resist instead 
 of facilitating the passage of this subtle fluid. 
 
 When this fluid has an opportunity of passing through 
 two conductors, one good, and sufficient, as of metal, the 
 other not so good, it passes in the best, and will follow it 
 in any direction. 
 
 The distance at which a body charged with this fluid will 
 discharge itself suddenly, striking through the air into 
 another body that is not charged, or not so highly charged, 
 is different according to the quantity of the fluid, the dimen 
 sions and form of the bodies themselves, and the state of 
 the air between them. This distance, whatever it happens 
 to be between any two bodies, is called their striking dis 
 tance, as, till they come within that distance -of each other, 
 no stroke wjll be made. 
 
 The clouds have often more of this fluid in proportion 
 than the earth ; in which case, as soon as they come near 
 enough (that is, within the striking distance) or meet with 
 a conductor, the fluid quits them and strikes into the 
 earth. A cloud fully charged with this fluid, if so high as 
 
282 ELECTRICITY . 
 
 to be beyond the striking distance from the earth, passes 
 quietly without making noise or giving light; unless it meets 
 \vith other clouds that have less, 
 
 Tall trees, and lofty buildings, as the towers and spires 
 of churches, become sometimes conductors between the 
 clouds and the earth ; but not being good ones, that is, not 
 conveying the fluid freely, they are often damaged. 
 
 Buildings that have their roofs covered with lead, or 
 other metal, and spouts of metal continued from the roof 
 into the ground to carry off the water, are never hurt by 
 lightning, as, whenever it falls on such a building, it passes 
 in the metals and not in the walls. 
 
 When other buildings happen to be within the" striking 
 distance from such clouds, the fluid passes in the walls 
 whether of wood, brick, or stone, quitting the walls only 
 when it can find better conductors near them, as metal 
 rods, bolts, and hinges of windows or doors, gilding on 
 wainscot, or frames of pictures, the silvering on the backs 
 of looking-glasses, the wires for bells, and the bodies of 
 animals, as containing watery fluids. And in passing 
 through the house it follows the direction of these conduc 
 tors, taking as many in its way as can assist it in its pas 
 sage, whether in a straight or crooked line, leaping from 
 one to the other, if not far distant from each other, only 
 rending the wall in the spaces where these partial good con 
 ductors are too distant from each other. 
 
 An iron rod being placed on the outside of a building-, 
 from the highest part continued down into the moist earth, 
 iu any direction straight or crooked, following the form of 
 the roof or other parts of the building, will receive the 
 lightning at its upper end, attracting it so as to prevent its 
 Striking any other part ; and, affording it a good convey 
 ance into the earth, will prevent its damaging any part ot 
 th building. 
 
 A small quantity of metal is found able lo conduct a 
 
TXECTIIICITY. 283 
 
 great quantity of this fluid. A wire no bigger than a goose- 
 quill has been known to conduct (with safety to the build 
 ing as far as the wire - was continued) a quantity of light 
 ning that did prodigious damage both above and below it: 
 and probably larger rods are not necessary, though it is 
 common in America to make them of half an inch, some of 
 three quarters, or an inch diameter. 
 
 The rod may be fastened to the wall, chimney, &c. with 
 staples of iron. The lightning will not leave the rod (a good 
 conductor) to pass into the wall (a bad conductor) through 
 those staples. It would rather, if any were in the wall, pass 
 out of it into the rod to get more readily by that conductor 
 into the earth. 
 
 If the building be very large and extensive, two or more 
 rods may be placed at different parts, lor greater security. 
 Small ragged parts of clouds, suspended in the air be 
 tween the great body of clouds and the earth (like leaf gold 
 in electrical experiments) often serve as partial conduc 
 tors for the lightning, which proceeds from one of them to 
 another, and by their help comes within the striking distance 
 to the earth or a building. It therefore strikes through 
 those conductors a building that would otherwise be out 
 of the striking distance. 
 
 *: Long sharp points communicating with the earth, and 
 presented to such parts of clouds, drawing silently from 
 them the fluid they are charged with, they are then at 
 tracted to the cloud, and may leave the distance so great 
 as to be beyond the reach of striking. 
 
 It is therefore that we elevate the upper end of the rod 
 six or eight feet above the highest part of the building, ta 
 pering it gradually to a fine sharp point, which is gilt to 
 prevent its rusting. 
 
 Thus the pointed rod either prevents a stroke from the 
 cloud, or if a stroke is made, conducts it to the earth with 
 safety to the building. 
 
284 TENDENCY, OF RIVERS TO THE SEA. 
 
 The lower end of the rod should enter the earth so deep 
 as to come at the moist part, perhaps two or three feet; 
 and if bent when under the surface so as to go in a hori 
 zontal line six or eight feet from the wall, and then bent 
 again downwards three or four feet, it will prevent damage 
 to any of the stones of the foundation. 
 
 A person apprehensive of danger from lightning, hap 
 pening during the time of thunder to be in a house not so 
 secured, will do well to avoid sitting near the chimney, near 
 a looking- glass, or any gilt pictures or wainscot ; the safest 
 place is in the middle of the room (so it be not under a metal 
 lustre suspended by a chain) sitting in one chair and laying 
 the feet up in another. It is still safer to bring two or 
 three mattrasses or beds into the middle of the room, and, 
 folding them up double, place the chair upon them ; for 
 they not being so good conductors as the walls, the light 
 ning will not choose an interrupted course through the air 
 of the room and the bedding, when it can go through a con 
 tinued better conductor, the wall. But where it can be 
 had, a hammock or swinging bed, suspended by silk cords 
 equally distant from the walls on every side, and from the 
 ceiling and floor above and below, affords the safest situa 
 tion a person can have in any room whatever; and what in 
 deed may be deemed quite free from danger of any stroke 
 by lightning. 
 
 Paris, Sept. 1767. B. FRANKLIN, 
 
 Tendency of Rivers to the Sea.Efect of the Sun s 
 Ray s on Cloths of different Colours. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, Sept.2Q, 1761. 
 
 It is, as you observed in our late conversation, a very 
 
 general opinion, that all rivers run into the sea, or deposit 
 
TENDENCY OF RIVERS <TO THE SEA. 285 
 
 their waters there. Tis a kind of audacity to call such 
 general opinions in question, and may subject one to cen 
 sure. But we must hazard something in what we think 
 the cause of truth ; and if we propose our objections mo 
 destly, we shall, though mistaken, deserve a censure less 
 severe, than when we are both mistaken and insolent. 
 
 That some rivers run into the sea is beyond a doubt: 
 such, for instance, are the Amazons, and 1 think the Oro- 
 noko and the Mississippi. The proof is, that their waters 
 ore fresh quite to the sea, and out to some distance from 
 the land. Our question is, whether the fresh waters of 
 those rivers whose beds are filled with salt water to a con 
 siderable distance up from the sea (as the Thames, the De 
 laware, and the rivers that communicate with Chesapeak- 
 bay in Virginia) do ever- arrive at the sea ? And as I sus 
 pect they do not, I am now to acquaint you with my rea 
 sons ; or, if they are not allowed to be reasons, my concep 
 tions, at least, of this matter. 
 
 The common supply of rivers is from springs, which 
 draw their origin from rain that has soaked into the earth. 
 The union of a number of springs forms a river. The 
 waters as they run, exposed to the sun, air, and, wind, are 
 continually evaporating. Hence in travelling one may 
 often see where a river runs, by a long bluish mist over it, 
 though we are at such a distance as not to see the river 
 itself. The quantity of this evaporation is greater or less, 
 in proportion to the surface exposed by the same quantity 
 of water to those causes of evaporation. While the river 
 runs in a narrower confined channel in the upper hilly 
 country, only a small surface is exposed ; a greater as the 
 river widens. Now if a river ends in a lake, as some do, 
 whereby its waters are spread so wide as that the evapora 
 tion is equal to the sum of all its springs, that lake will 
 never overflow : And if, instead of ending in a lake, it was 
 draws into greater length as a river, so as to expose a sur- 
 
286 TENDENCY OF RIVERS TO THE SEA, 
 
 face equal in the whole to that lake, the evaporation would 
 be equal, and such river would end as a canal ; when the 
 ignorant might suppose, as they actually do in such cases, 
 that the river loses itself by running under ground, whereas 
 in truth it has ran up into the air. 
 
 Now, many rivers that are open to the sea widen much 
 before they arrive at it, not merely by the additional waters 
 they reqeive, but by having their course stopped by the op 
 posing flood-tide ; by being turned back twice In twenty- 
 four hours, and by finding broader beds in the low flat 
 countries to dilate themselves in ; hence the evaporation ot 
 the fresh water is proportionably increased ; so that in 
 some rivers it may equal the springs O f supply. In such 
 cases, the salt water comes up the river, and meets the fresh 
 in that part where, if there were a wall or bank of earth 
 across from side to side, the river would form a lake, fuller 
 indeed at some times than at others, according to the sea 
 sons, but whose evaporation would, one time with another, 
 be equal to its supply. 
 
 When the communication between the two kinds of 
 water is open, this supposed wall of separation may be 
 conceived as a moveable one, which is not only pushed 
 some miles higher up the river by every flood tide from the 
 sea, and carried down again as far by every tide of ebb, 
 but which has even this space of vibration rr moved nearer 
 to the sea in wet seasons, when the springs and brooks in 
 the upper country are augmented by the falling rains, so. 
 as to swell the river, and farther from the sea in dry 
 seasons. 
 
 Within a few miles above and below this moveable 
 line of separation, the different waters mix a little, partly 
 by their motion to and fro, and partly from the greater 
 specific gravity of the salt water, which inclines it to run 
 imdcr the fresh, while the fresh water, being lighter, runs : 
 over the salt* 
 
EFFECTS OF THE SUN S RAYS. 287 
 
 Cast your eye OH the map of North America, and ob 
 serve the bay of Chesapeak in Virginia, mentioned nbove; 
 you will see, communicating with it by their mouths, the 
 great rivers Sasquehanah, Potowmack, Happahanook,. 
 Yt>rk, and James, besides a number of smaller streams, 
 each as big as the Thames. It has been proposed by phi 
 losophical writers, that to compute how much water any 
 river discharges into the sea in a given time, we should 
 measure its depth and swiftness at any part above the tide ; 
 as, for the Thames, at Kingston or Windsor. But can 
 one imagine, that if all the water of those vast rivers went 
 to the sea, it would not first have pushed the salt water 
 out of that narrow-mouthed bay, and filled it with fresh ? 
 The Sasquehanah alone would seem to be sufficient for this, 
 if it were not for the loss by evaporation. And yet that bay 
 is salt quite up to Annapolis. 
 
 As to our other subject, the different degrees of heal 
 imbibed^rom the sun s rays by cloths of different colours, 
 since I cannot find the notes of my experiment to send 
 vou, I must give it as well as I can from memory. 
 
 But first let me mention an experiment you may easily 
 make yourself. Walk but a quarter of an hour in your 
 garden when the sun shines, with a part of your dress white, 
 and a part black ; then apply your hand to them alter 
 nately, and you will find a very great difference in their 
 warmth. The black will be quite hot to the touch, the 
 white still cool. 
 
 Another. Try to fire the paper with a burning glass. 
 If it is white, you will not easily burn it ; but if you bring 
 the focus to a black spot, or upon letters, written or 
 printed, the paper will immediately be on fire under the 
 letters. 
 
 -Thus fullers and dyers find black cloths, of equal thick 
 ness with white ones, and hung out equally \?et, dry in the 
 sun much sooner than the white, being more readily heated 
 
288 EFFECTS OF THE SUN S RAYS. 
 
 by the sun s rays. It is the same before a fire; the heat 
 of which sooner penetrates black stockings than white 
 ones, and so is apt sooner to burn a man s shins. Also 
 beer much sooner warms in a black mug set before the fire, 
 than in a white one, or in a bright silver tankard. 
 
 My experiment was this. I took a number of little 
 square pieces of broa-d cloth from a taylor s pattern-card, 
 of various colours. There were black, deep blue, lighter 
 blue, green, purple, red, yellow, white, and other colours, or 
 shades of colours. I laid them all out upon the snow in a 
 bright sun-shiny morning. In a few hours (I cannot now 
 be exact as to the time) the black, being warmed most by 
 the sun, was sunk so low,as to be below the stroke of the 
 sun s rays ; the dark blue almost as low, the lighter blue 
 not quite so much as the dark, the other colours less as they 
 were lighter; and the quite white remained oa the surface 
 of the snow, not having entered it at all. 
 
 What signifies philosophy that does not apply to some 
 use ? May we not learn from hence, that black clothes 
 are not so fit to wear in a hot sunny climate or season, as 
 white ones; because in such clothes the body is more 
 heated by the sun when we walk abroad, ami are at the 
 same time heated by the exercise, which double heat is apt 
 to bring on putrid dangerous fevers ? That soldiers and 
 seamen, who must march and labour in the sun, should in 
 the East or West Indies have an uniform of white I That 
 summer hats, for men or women, should be white, as re 
 pelling that heat .which gives head-aches to many, and to 
 some the fatal stroke that the French call the coup dc 
 soldi? That the ladies 1 summer hats, however, should be 
 lined with black, as not reverberating on their liters those 
 rays which are reflected upwards from the earth or water 
 That the putting a white cap of paper or linen within the 
 crown of a black hat, as some do, will not keep out th$ 
 heat, though it would if placed without. That fruit-walla 
 
ELECTRICITY. 289 
 
 blacked nay receive so much heat from the sun in 
 the day-time, as to continue warm in some degree through 
 the night, and thereby preserve the fruit from frosts, or for 
 ward its growth with sundry other particulars of less or 
 greater importance, that will occur from time to time to 
 attentive minds ? I am, 
 
 Your s affectionately, 
 
 13. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO PETER COLLINSON, ESQ. F. R. S. LONDON. 
 
 w * . 
 
 Electrical Kite. 
 
 SIR, Philadelphia, Oct. 19, 1752. 
 
 \s frequent mention is made in public papers from 
 Europe of the success of the Philadelphia experiment for 
 drawing the electric fire from clouds by raeans of pointed 
 rods of iron erected on high bufldingvS, &c. it may be agree 
 able to the curious to be informed that the same experiment 
 has succeeded in Philadelphia, though made in a different 
 and more easy manner, which is as follows : 
 
 Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms 
 so long as to reach to the four corners of a large thin silk 
 handkerchief when extended ; tie the corners of the hand 
 kerchief to the extremities of the cross, so you have the 
 body of a kite; which being properly accommodated with 
 a tail, loop, and string, will rise in the air, like those mad 
 of paper; but this being of silk is fitter to bear the wet 
 and wind of a thunder gust without tearing. To the top 
 of the upright stick of tire cross is to be fixed a very sharp 
 pointed wire, rising a foot or more above the wood. To 
 the end of the twine, next the hand, is to be tied a sifk 
 ribbon, and where the silk and twine join, a key may i e 
 
 TJ 
 
ELECTRICITY. 
 
 fastened. This kite is to be raise d when & thundcr-gusi 
 appears to be coming on,, and the person who holds the 
 string must stand within a door or window, or under some 
 cover, so that the silk ribbon may not be wet ; and care 
 must be taken that the twine does not touch the frame o 
 the door or window. As soon as any of the thunder 
 clouds come over the kite, the pointed wire will draw the 
 electric fire from them, and the kite, with all the twine, 
 will be electrified, and the loose filaments of the twine will 
 stand out every way, and be attracted by an approaching 
 finger. And when the rain has wetted the, kite and twine, 
 so that it can conduct the electric fire freely, you will find 
 it stream out plentifully from the key on the approach of 
 your knuckle. At this key the phial may be charged; and 
 from electric fire thus obtained, spirits may be kindled, and 
 all the other electric experiments be performed, which are 
 usually done by the help of a rubbed glass globe or tube, 
 and thereby the sameness of the electric matter with that 
 of lightning completely demonstrated. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 SIR, Philadelphia, Sept. 1753, 
 
 In my former paper on this subject, written first in 
 1747, enlarged and sent to England in 1749, I considered 
 the sea as the grand source of lightning, imagining its lu 
 minous appearance to be owing to electric fire, produced by 
 friction between the particles of water and those of salt. 
 Living far from the sea, I had then no opportunity of making 
 experiments on the sea- water, and so embraced this opinion 
 too hastily. 
 
 For in 1750, and 1751, being occasionally on the sea- 
 coast, I found, by experiments, that sea- water in a bottle 
 
ELECTRICITY. :*)! 
 
 though at first it would by agitation appear luminous, yet 
 in a few hours it lost that virtue: hence, and from this, that 
 I could not by agitating- a solution of sea-salt in water pro 
 duce any light, 1 first began to doubt of my former hypo 
 thesis, and to suspect that the luminous appearance in sea- 
 water must be owing to some other principles. 
 
 I then considered whether it were not possible, that the 
 particles of air, being electrics per se, might, in hard gales 
 of wind, by their friction against trees, hills, buildings, See. 
 as so many minute electric globes, rubbing against non 
 electric cushions, draw the electric fire from the earth, and 
 that the rising vapours might receive that fire from the air, 
 and by such means the clouds become electrified. 
 
 If this were so, I imagined that by forcing a constant 
 violent stream of air against my prime conductor, by bel 
 lows, I should electrify it negatrcely ; the rubbing particles 
 of air, drawing from it part of its natural quantity of the 
 electric fluid. I accordingly made the experiment, but it 
 did not succeed. 
 
 In September 1752, I erected an iron rod to draw the 
 lightning down into my house, in order to make some ex 
 periments on it, with two bells to give notice when the rod 
 should be electrified : a contrivance obvious to every elec 
 trician. 
 
 I found the bells rang sometimes when there was no 
 lightning or thunder, but only a dark clond over the rod ; 
 that sometimes after a flash of lightning they would sud 
 denly stop; and at other times, when they had not rang 
 before, they would, after a flash, suddenly begin to ring ; 
 that the electricity was sometimes v.ery faint, so that, when 
 a small spark was obtained, another could not be got for 
 some time after; at other times the sparks would follow 
 extremely quick, and once I had a continual stream frcun 
 bell to bell, the size of a crow-quill: even during the same 
 gust there were considerable variations. 
 
 i 2 
 
292 ELECTRICITY. 
 
 In the winter following I conceived an experiment, to 
 try whether the clouds were electrified positively or nega 
 tively ; but my pointed rod, with its apparatus, becoming 
 out of order, I did not refit it till towards the spring, when 
 I expected the warm weather would bring on more frequent 
 thunder-clouds. , . 
 
 The experiment was this : To take two phials ; charge 
 one of them with lightning from the iron rod, and give the 
 Other an equal charge by the electric glass globe, through 
 the prime conductor : when charged, to place them on a 
 table within three or four inches of each other, a small corfc 
 ball being suspended by a fine silk thread from the ceiling, 
 so as it might play between the wires. If both bottles 
 then were electrified positively, the ball, being attracted 
 and repelled by one, must be also repelled by the other. 
 If the one positively, and the other negatively, then the 
 ball would be attracted and repelled alternately by each, 
 and continue to play between them as long as any consi 
 derable charge remained. 
 
 : Being very intent on making this experiment, it was no 
 small mortification to me, that I happened to be abroad 
 during two of the greatest thunder-storms we had early in 
 the spring ; and though I had given orders in my family, 
 that if the bells rang when I was from home, they should 
 catch some of the lightning for me in electrical phials, and 
 they did so, yet it was mostly dissipated before my return ; 
 and in some of the other gusts, the quantity of lightning I 
 was able to obtain was so small, and the charge so weak, 
 that I could not satisfy myself: yet I sometimes saw what 
 heightened my suspicions, and inflamed my curiosity. 
 
 At last, on the \ 2th of April, 1753, there being a smart 
 gust of some continuance, I charged one phial pretty well 
 with lightning-, and the other equally, as near as I could 
 judge, with electricity from my glass globe ; and, having 
 placed them properly, I beheld, with great surprise and 
 
ELECTRICITY. 293 
 
 pleasure, the cork ball play briskly between them ; and was 
 convinced that one bottle was electrised negatively. 
 , I repeated this experiment several times during the gust, 
 and in eight succeeding gusts, always with the same suc 
 cess ; and being of opinion (for reasons I formerly gave in 
 my letter to Mr. Kinnersley, since printed in London) that 
 the glass globe electrises positively, I concluded that the 
 clouds are always electrised negatively, or have always in 
 them less than tl*eir natural quantity of the electric fluid. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding so many experiments, it seems I 
 concluded too soon; for at last, June the 6th, in a gust 
 which continued from five o clock, P. M. to seven, I met 
 with one cloud that was electrised positively, though several 
 that passed over my rod before, during the same gust, were 
 in the negative state. This was thus discovered : 
 
 I had another concurring experiment, which I often re 
 peated, to prove the negative state of the clouds, viz. while 
 the bells were ringing, I took the phial charged from the 
 glass globe, and applied its wire to the erected rod, consi 
 dering, that if the clouds were electrised positively, the rod 
 which received its electricity from them must be so too ; 
 and then the additional positive electricity of the phial 
 would make the bells ring faster : But, if the clouds were 
 in a negative state, they must exhaust the electric fluid 
 from my rod, and bring that into the same negative state 
 with themselves, and then the wire of a positively charged 
 phial, supplying the rod with what it wanted (which it was 
 obliged otherwise to draw from the earth by means of the 
 pendulous brass ball playing between the two bells) the 
 ringing would cease till the bottle was discharged. 
 
 In this manner I quite discharged into the rod several 
 phials that were charged from the glass globe, the electric 
 iluid streaming from the wire to the rod, till the wire would 
 receive no spark from the finger ; and, during this supply 
 to the rod from the phial, the bells stopped ringing j but by 
 
294 ELECTRICITY. 
 
 continuing the application of the phial wire to the rod, I 
 exhausted the natural quantity from the inside surface of 
 the same phials, or, as I call it, charged them negatively, 
 
 At length, while I was charging- a phial by my glass 
 globe, to repeat this experiment, my bells, of themselves, 
 stopped ringing, and, after some pause, began to ring 
 again. But now, when I approached the wire of the 
 charged phial to the rod, instead of the usual stream that I 
 expected from the wire to the rod, there was no spark ; no 
 even when I brought the wire and the rod to touch ; yet the 
 bells continued ringing vigorously, which proved to me, that 
 the rod was then positively electrified, as well as the wire 
 of the phial, and equally so ; and, consequently, that the 
 particular cloud then over the rod was in the same positive 
 state. This was near the end of the gust. 
 
 But this was a single experiment, which, however, de 
 stroys my first too general conclusion, and reduces me to 
 this : That the clouds of a thunder-gust are most commonly 
 in a negative state of electricity, but sometimes in a posi 
 tive slate. 
 
 The latter, I believe, is rare ; for though I soon after the 
 last experiment set out on a journey to Boston, and was 
 from home most part of the summer, which prevented my 
 making farther trials and observations ; yet Mr. Kinnersley, 
 returning from the islands just as I left home, pursued the 
 experiments during my absence, and informs me that he 
 always found the clouds in the negative state. 
 
 So that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes, it is the 
 earth that strikes into the clouds, and not the clouds that 
 strike into the earth. 
 
 Those who are versed in electric experiments, will easily 
 conceive, that the effects and appearances must be nearly 
 the same in either case ; the same explosion, and the same 
 flash between one cloud and another, and between the 
 clouds and mountains, &c. the same rending of trees, 
 
ELECTRICITY. 
 
 walls, &c. which the electric fluid meets with in its pas 
 sage, and the same fatal shock to animal bodies; and that 
 pointed rods fixed on buildings, or masts of ships, and com 
 municating with the earth or sea, must be oi the same ser 
 vice in restoring the equilibrium silently between the earth 
 and clouds, or in conducting a Hash or stroke, if one should 
 be, so as to save harmless the house or vessel : for points 
 have equal power to throw off, as to draw on, the electric 
 fire, and rods will conduct up as well as down. 
 
 But r though the light gained from these experiments 
 makes no alteration in the practice, it makes a considerable 
 one in the theory. And now we as much need an hy 
 pothesis to explain by what means the clouds become 
 negatively, as before to shew how they became positively, 
 electrified. 
 
 I cannot forbear venturing some few conjectures on this 
 occasion : they are what occur to me at present, and though 
 future discoveries should prove them not wholly right, yet 
 they may in the mean time be of some use, by stirring up 
 the curious to make more experiments, and occasion more 
 <?xact disquisitions. 
 
 I conceive, then, that this globe of earth and water, with 
 its plants, animals, and buildings, have diffused throughout 
 their substance, a quantity of the electric fluid, just as 
 much as they can contain, which I call the natural quan 
 tity. 
 
 That this natural quantity is not the same in all kinds 
 of common matter under the same dimensions, nor in the 
 same kind of common matter in all circumstances ; but a 
 solid foot, for instance, of one kind of common matter, may 
 contain more of the electric fluid than a solid foot of some 
 other kind of common matter ; and a pound weight of the 
 same kind of common matter may, when in a rarer state, 
 contain more of the electric fluid than when in a denser 
 state. 
 
96 ELECTRICITY. 
 
 For the electric fluid, being- attracted by any portion 
 of common matter, the parts of that fluid (which have among 
 themselves a mutual repulskm)are brought so near to each 
 other by the attraction of the common matter, that absorbs 
 them, as that their repulsion is equal to the condensing 
 power of attraction in common matter; and then such por 
 tion of common matter will absorb no more. 
 
 Bodies of different kinds having thus attracted and ab 
 sorbed what I call their natural quantity, i. e. just as much 
 of the electric fluid as is suited to their circumstances of 
 density, rarity, and power of attracting-, do not then show 
 any signs of electricity among each other. 
 f And if more electric fluid be added to one of these bo 
 dies, it does not enter, but spreads on the surface, forming- 
 an atmosphere ; and then such body shews signs of elec 
 tricity. 
 
 i I have in a former paper compared common matter to a 
 sponge, and the electric fluid to water ; I beg leave once 
 more to make use of the same comparison, to illustrate far 
 ther my meaning in this particular. 
 
 When a sponge is somewhat condensed by being- 
 squeezed between the fingers, it will not receive and re 
 tain so much water as when in its more loose and open state. 
 
 If more squeezed and condensed, some of the water 
 will come out of its inner parts, and flow on the surface. 
 
 If the pressure of the fingers be entirely removed, the 
 sponge will not only resume what was lately forced out, 
 but attract an additional quantity. 
 
 * As the sponge in its rarer state will naturally attract 
 and absorb more water, and in its denser s-tate will na 
 turally attract and absorb less water; we may call the 
 quantity it attracts and absorbs in either state, its natural 
 quantity, the state being considered. 
 
 Now what the sponge is to water, the same is water to 
 the electric fluid. 
 
ELECTRICITY. 297 
 
 When a portion of water is in its common dense state, 
 tt cao hold no more electric fluid than it has : if any be 
 added, it spreads on the surface. * 
 
 When the same portion of water is rarefied into vapour, 
 and forms a cloud, it is then capable of receiving- and ab 
 sorbing a much greater quantity ; there is room for each par 
 ticle to have an electric atmosphere. 
 
 Thus water, in its rarefied state, or in the form of a 
 cloud, will be in a negative state of electricity; it will have 
 less than its natural quantity ; that is, less than it is natu 
 rally capable of attracting and absorbing in that state. vi 
 
 Such a cloud, then, coming so near the earth as to be 
 within the striking distance, will receive from the earth a 
 flash of the electric fluid ; which flash, to supply a great ex 
 tent of cloud, must sometimes contain a very great quantity 
 of that fluid. 
 
 Or such a cloud, passing over woods of tall trees, may 
 from the points and sharp edges of their moist top leaves, 
 receive silently some supply. 
 
 A cloud being by any means supplied from the earth, 
 may strike into other clouds that have not been supplied, or 
 not so much supplied ; and those to others, till an equili 
 brium is produced among all the clouds that are within 
 striking distance of each other. 
 
 The cloud thus supplied, having parted with much of 
 what it first received, may require and receive a fresh supply 
 from the earth, or from some other cloud, which by the wind 
 is brought into such a situation as to receive it more rea 
 dily from the earth. i 
 
 Hence repeated and continual strokes and flashes till 
 the clouds have all got nearly their natural quantity as 
 clouds, or till they have descended in showers, and are 
 united again with this terraqueous globe, their original. 
 
 Thus, thunder-clouds are generally in a negative state of 
 electricity compared with the earth, agreeable to most of 
 
298 ELECTRICITY, 
 
 our experiments ; yet as by one experiment we found & 
 cloud electrised positively, I conjecture that/ in that case, 
 such cloud, after having- received what was, in its rare 
 state, only its natural quantity, became compressed by the 
 driving winds, or some other means, so that part of what it 
 had absorbed was forced out, and formed an electric at- 
 mosphere around it in its denser state. Hence it was ca 
 pable of communicating positive electricity to my rod. 
 
 To show that a body in different circumstances of dilata 
 tion and contraction is capable of -receiving- and retaining 
 more or less of the electric fluid on its surface, I would 
 relate the following experiment : I placed a clean wine 
 glass on the floor, and on it a small silver can. In the 
 can I put about three yards of brass chain ; to one end of 
 which I fastened a silk thread, which went right up to the 
 ceiling, where it passed over a pulley, and came down 
 again to my hand, that I might at pleasure draw the chain 
 up out of the can, extending it till within a foot of the 
 ceiling, and let it gradually sink into the can again. From 
 the ceiling, by another thread of fine raw silk. I suspended 
 a small light lock of cotton, so as that when it hung per 
 pendicularly, it came in contact with the side of the can. 
 Then approaching the wire of a charged phial to the can, 
 I gave it a spark, which flowed round in an electric at 
 mosphere ; and the lock of cotton was repelled from the 
 side of the can to the distance of about nine or ten inches. 
 The can would not then receive another spark from the 
 wire of the phial ; but as I gradually drew up the chain, 
 the atmosphere of the can diminished by flowing over the 
 rising chain, and the lock of cotton accordingly drew nearer 
 and nearer to the can ; and then, if I again brought the 
 phial wire nearj the can, it would receive another spark, 
 and the cotton fly off again to its first distance ; and thus> 
 as the chain was drawn higher, the can would receive 
 more sparks ; because the can and extended chain were 
 
ELECTRICITY. 209 
 
 capable of supporting- a greater atmosphere than the can 
 with the chain gathered up into its belly. And that the 
 atmosphere round the can was diminished by raising the 
 chain, and increased again by lowering it, is not only 
 agreeable to reason, since the atmosphere of the chain 
 must be drawn from that of the can, when it rose, and re 
 turned to it again when it fell ; but was also evident to the 
 eye, the lock of cotton always approaching the can when 
 the chain was drawn up, and receding when it was let down 
 again. 
 
 Thus we see that increase of surface makes a body ca 
 pable of receiving a greater electric atmosphere : but this 
 experiment does not, I own, fully demonstrate my new 
 hypothesis ; for the brass and silver still continue in their 
 solid state, and are not rarefied into vapour, as the water is 
 in clouds. Perhaps some future experiments on vapourized 
 water may set this matter in a clearer light. 
 
 One seemingly material objection arises to the new hy 
 pothesis, and it is this : If water, in its rarefied state, as a 
 cloud, requires and will absorb more of the electric fluid 
 than when in its dense state as water, why does it not ac 
 quire from the earth all it wants at the instant of its leaving 
 the surface, while it is yet near, and but just rising in va 
 pour . To this difficulty I own I cannot at present give a 
 solution satisfactory to myself: I thought, however, that J 
 ought to state it in its full force, as I have done, and sub* 
 mit the whole to examination. 
 
 And I would beg leave to recommend it to the curious 
 in this branch of natural philosophy, to repeat with care 
 and accurate observation the experiments I have reported 
 in this and former papers relating to positive and negative 
 electricity, with such other relative ones as shall occur to 
 them, that it may be certainly known whether the electri 
 city communicated by a glass globe, be really positive. 
 And also 1 would request all who may have an opportu- 
 
300 ELECTRICITY 
 
 nity- of observing the recent effects of lightning on build 
 ings, trees, &c. that they would consider them particularly 
 with a view to discover the direction. But in these exa 
 minations, this one thing is always to be understood, viz. 
 that a stream of the electric fluid passing through wood, 
 brick, metal, &c. while such fluid passes in small quantity, 
 the mutually repulsive power of its parts is confined and 
 overcome by the cohesion of the parts of the body it passes 
 through, so as to prevent an explosion; but when the 
 fluid comes in a quantity too great to be confined by such 
 cohesion, it explodes, and rends or fuses the body that en 
 deavoured to confine it. If it be wood, brick, stone, or 
 the like, the splinters will fly off on that side where there is 
 least resistance. And thus, when a hole is struck through 
 pasteboard by the electrified jar, if the surfaces of the 
 pasteboard are not confined or compressed, there will be a 
 bur raised all round the hole on both sides the pasteboard ; 
 but if one side be confined, so that the bur cannot be raised 
 on that side, it will be all raised on the other, which way 
 soever the fluid was directed. For the bur round the out 
 side of the hole is the effect of the explosion every way 
 from the centre of the stream, and not an effect of the di 
 rection. 
 
 f In every stroke of lightning, I am of opinion that the 
 stream of the electric fluid, moving to restore the equili 
 brium between the cloud and the earth, does always pre 
 viously find its passage, and mark out, as I may say, its own 
 course, taking in its way all the conductors it can find, 
 such as metals, damp walls, moist wood, 8cc. and will go 
 considerably out of a direct course, for the sake of the as 
 sistance of good conductors; and that, in this course, it is 
 ..actually moving, though silently and imperceptibly, before 
 the explosion, in and among the conductors ; which explo 
 sion happens only when the conductors cannot discharge it 
 QS fast as they receive it, by reason of their being incom- 
 
ELECTRICITY. 301 
 
 plete, disunited, too small, or not of the best materials for 
 conducting-. Metalline rods, therefore, of sufficient thick 
 ness, and extending from the highest part of an edifice to 
 the ground, being- of the best materials and complete con 
 ductors, will, I think, secure the building from damage, 
 either iy restoring the equilibrium so fast as to prevent a 
 stroke, or by conducting it in the substance of the rod as 
 far as the rod goes, so that there shall be no explosion but 
 what is above its point, between that and the clouds. 
 
 If it be asked, what thickness of metalline rod may be 
 supposed sufiicient? In answer, I would remark, that five 
 large glass jars, such as I have described in my former pa 
 pers, discharge a very great quantity of electricity, which 
 nevertheless will be all conducted round the corner of a 
 book, by the fine filleting of gold on the cover, it following 1 
 the gold the farthest way about, rather than take the 
 shorter course through the cover, that not being so good 
 a conductor. Now in this line of gold, the metal is so ex 
 tremely thin as to be little more than the colour of gold, 
 and on an octavo book is not in the whole an inch square, 
 and therefore not the thirty-sixth part of a grain, accord 
 ing to M.Reaumur; yet it is sufficient to conduct the 
 charge of five large jars, and how many more I know not. 
 Now, I suppose a wire of a quarter of an inch diameter to 
 contain about five thousand times as much metal as there 
 is in that gold line, and if so, it will conduct the charge of 
 twenty-five thousand such glass jars, which is a quantity, I 
 imagine, far beyond what was ever contained in any one 
 stroke" of natural lightning. Rut a rod of half an inch 
 diameter would conduct four times as much as one of a 
 quarter. 
 
 t And with regai d to conducting, though a certain thick 
 ness of metal be required to conduct a great quantity of 
 electricity, and, at the same time, keep its own substance 
 firm and unseparated ; and a less quantity, as a very small 
 
302 ELECTRICITY. 
 
 wire for instance, will he destroyed by the explosion ; yet 
 such small wire will have answered the end of conducting 
 that stroke, though it become incapable of conducting- an* 
 other. And considering the extreme rapidity with which 
 the electric fluid moves without exploding, when it has a 
 free passage, or complete metal communication, I should 
 think a vast quantity would be conducted in a short time, 
 either to or from a cloud, to restore its equilibrium with 
 the earth, by means of a very small wire ; and therefore 
 thick rods should seem not so necessary. However, as the 
 quantity of lightning discharged in one stroke, cannot well 
 be measured, and, in different strokes, is certainly very 
 various, in some much greater than others ; and as iron 
 (the best metal for the purpose, being least apt to fuse) is 
 cheap, it may be well enough to provide a larger canal to 
 guide that impetuous blast than we imagine necessary : for, 
 though one middling wire may be sufficient, two or three 
 can do no harm. And time, with careful observations well 
 compared, will at length point out the proper size to greater 
 certainty. 
 
 ) Pointed rods erected on edifices may likewise often pre 
 vent a stroke, in the following manner : An eye so situ 
 ated as to view horizontally the under side of a thunder 
 cloud, will see it very ragged, with a number of separate 
 fragments, or petty clouds, one under another, the lowest 
 sometimes not far from the earth. These, as so many 
 stepping stones, assist in conducting a stroke between the 
 cloud and a building. To represent these by an experi 
 ment, take two or three locks of fine loose cotton, connect 
 one of them with the prime conductor by a fine thread of 
 two inches (which may be spun out of the same lock by the 
 fingers) another to that, and the third to the second, by 
 like threads. Turn the globe and you will see these locks 
 extend themselves towards the table (as the lower small 
 clouds do towards the earth) being attracted by it: but on 
 
CURIOUS EFFECT OF OIL ON WATER. 303 
 
 presenting a sharp point erect under the lowest, it \\ill 
 shrink up to the second, the second to the first, and all to 
 gether to tjie prime conductor, where they will continue as 
 long as the point continues under them. May not, in like 
 manner, the small electrised clouds, whose equilibrium with 
 the earth is soon restored by the point, rise up to the main 
 body, and by that means occasion so large a vacancy, as 
 that the grand cloud cannot strike in that place ? 
 
 These thoughts, my dear friend, are many of them crude 
 aud hasty ; and if I were merely ambitious of acquiring 
 some reputation in philosophy, I ought to keep them by 
 me, till corrected and improved by time, and farther expe 
 rience. But since even short hints and imperfect experi 
 ments in any new branch of science, being communicated, 
 have oftentimes a good effect, in exciting the attention of 
 the ingenious to the subject, and so become the occasion of 
 more exact disquisition, and more complete discoveries, you 
 are at liberty to communicate this paper to whom you 
 please ; it being of more importance that knowledge should 
 increase, than that your friend should be thought an accu 
 rate philosopher. 
 
 B. FRANKL1K 
 
 TO DR. PRINGLE, IN LONDON. 
 
 Relating a curious Instance of the Effect of Oil on 
 Water. 
 
 SIR, Philadelphia, Dec. 1, 1762. 
 
 During j)ur passage to Madeira, the weather being 
 warm, and the cabin windows constantly open for the be 
 nefit of the air, the candles at night flared and run very 
 much, which was an inconvenience. At Madeira, we got 
 
304 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL, 
 
 oil to burn ; and with a common glass tumbler or beaker, 
 slung- in wire, and suspended to the ceiling of the cabin, 
 and a little wire hoop for the wick, furnished wijh corks to 
 float on the oil, I made an Italian lamp, that gave us very 
 good light all over the table. The glass at bottom con 
 tained water to about one-third of its height; another third 
 was taken up with oil ; the rest was left empty that the sides 
 of the glass might protect the flame from the wind. There 
 is nothing remarkable in all this ; but what follows is par 
 ticular. At supper, looking on the lamp, I remarked, that 
 though the surface of the oil was perfectly tranquil, and 
 Yluly preserved its position and distance with regard to the 
 brim of the glass, the water under the oil was in great com 
 motion, rising and falling in irregular waves, which con 
 tinued during the whole evening. The lamp was kept 
 burning as a watch light all night, till the oil was spent, and 
 the water only remained. In the morning I observed, that 
 though the motion of the ship continued the same, the 
 water was now quiet, and its surface as tranquil as that of 
 the oil had -been the evening before. At night again, when 
 oil was put upon it, the water resumed its irregular mo- 
 lions, rising in high waves almost to the surface of the oil, 
 but without disturbing the smooth level of that surface. 
 And this was repeated every day during the voyage. 
 
 Since my arrival in America, 1 have repeated the expe - 
 riment frequently, thus. I have put a pack-thread round 
 a tumbler, with strings of the same, from each side, meet 
 ing above it in a knot at about a foot distance from the top 
 of the tumbler. Then putting in as much water as would 
 fill about one-third part of the tumbler, I lifted it up by the 
 knot, and swung it to and fro in the air; when the water 
 appeared to keep its place in the tumbler as steadily as if 
 it had been ice. But pouring gently in upon the water 
 about as much oil, and then again swinging it in the air as 
 before, the tranquillity -before possessed by the water, was 
 
STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 30$ 
 
 transferred to the surface of the oil, and the water undef it 
 was agitated with the same commotions as at sea. 
 
 I have shewn this experiment to a numher of ingenious 
 persons. Those who are but slightly acquainted with the 
 principles of hydrostatics, &c. are apt to fancy immediately 
 that they understand it, and readily attempt to explain it ; 
 but their explanations have been different, and to me not 
 very intelligible. Others, more deeply skilled in those prin 
 ciples, seem to wonder at it, and promise to consider it* 
 And I think it is worth considering : for a new appearance, 
 if it cannot be explained by our old principles, may afford 
 us new ones, of use perhaps in explaining some other ob 
 scure parts of natural knowledge. 
 J am, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO DR. BROWNRIGG. 
 
 DEAR SIR, London, Nov. 7, 177& 
 
 I thank you for the remarks of your learned friend at 
 Carlisle. I had, when a youth, read and smiled at Pliny s 
 account of a practice among the seamen of his time, to still 
 the waves in a storm by pouring oil into the sea; which he 
 mentions, as well as the use made of oil by the divers ; but 
 the stilling a tempest by throwing vinegar into the air had 
 escaped me. I think with your friend, that it has been of 
 late too much the mode to slight the learning of the an* 
 cients. The learned, too, are apt to slight too much tho 
 knowledge of the vulgar. The cooling by evaporation was 
 long an instance of the latter. This art of smoothing the 
 \vaves by oil is an instance of both* 
 
 Perhaps you may not dislike to have an account of all I 
 have heard, and learnt, and done in this way. Take it, if 
 you please, as follows* . 
 
3013 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL, 
 
 In 1757, being- at sea in a fleet of 96 sail bound against 
 Louisbourg, I observed the wakes of two of the ships to be 
 remarkably smooth, while all the others were ruffled by the 
 wind, which blew fresh. Being puzzled with the differing 
 appearance, I at last pointed it out to our captain, and 
 asked him the meaning of it. " The cooks," says he, 
 * have, I suppose, been just emptying their greasy water 
 through the scuppers, which has greased the sides of those 
 ships a little ;" and this answer he gave me with an air of 
 some little contempt, as to a person ignorant of what every 
 body else knew. In my own mind I at first slighted his so 
 lution, though I was not able to think of another; but, re 
 collecting what I had formerly read in Pliny, -I resolved to 
 make some experiment of the effect of oil on water, when I 
 should have opportunity. 
 
 Afterwards being again at sea in 1762, I first observed 
 the wonderful quietness of oil on agitated water, in the 
 swinging glass lamp I made to hang up in the cabin, as 
 described in my printed papers *. This I was continually 
 looking at and considering, as an appearance to me inex 
 plicable, An old sea captain, then a passenger with me, 
 thought little of it, supposing it an effect of the same kind 
 with that of oil put on water to smooth it, which he said was 
 a practice of the Bermudians when they would strike fish, 
 which they could not see, if the, surface of the water was 
 rulDed by the wind. This practice I had never before 
 heard of, and was obliged to him for the information ; 
 though I thought him mistaken as to the sameness of the 
 experiment, the operations being different as well as the 
 effects. In one case, the water is smooth till the oil is put 
 on, and then becomes agitated. In the other it is agi 
 tated before the oil is applied, and then becomes smooth. 
 
 See the preceding paper, 
 
STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 307 
 
 The same gentleman told me, he had heard it was a prac 
 tice with the fishermen of Lisbon, when about to return into 
 the river (if they saw before them too great a surf upon the 
 bar, which they apprehended might fill their boats in 
 passing) to empty a bottle or two of oil into the sea, which 
 would suppress the breakers, and allow them to pass safely. 
 A confirmation of this I have not had an opportunity of ob 
 taining: but discoursing of it with another person, who 
 had often been in the Mediterranean, I was informed, that 
 the divers there, who, when under water in their business, 
 need light which the curling of the surface interrupts by the 
 refractions of so many little waves, let a small quantity of 
 oil now and then out of their mouths, which rising to tho 
 surface smooths it, and permits the light to come down to 
 them. All these informations I at times revolved in my 
 mind, and wondered to find no mention of them in our books 
 of experimental philosophy. 
 
 At length being at Clapham, where there is, on the corn- 
 men, a large pond, which I observed one day to be very 
 rough with the wind, I fetched out a cruet of oil, and dropt 
 a little of it on the water. I saw it spread itself with sur 
 prising swiftness upon the surface : but the effect of 
 smoothing the waves was not produced ; for I had 
 applied it first on the leeward side of the pond, where 
 the waves were largest, and the wind drove my oil back 
 upon the. shore. I then went to the windward side where 
 they began to form ; and there the oil, though not more than 
 a tea spoonful, produced an instant caln*over a space se^- 
 veral yards square, which spread amazingly, and extended 
 itself gradually till it reached the lee side, making all tliat 
 quarter of the pond, perhaps half an acre, as smooth as a 
 looking-glass. 
 
 i After this I contrived to take with me, whenever I went 
 ijjjo the country, a little oil in the upper hollow joint of my 
 bamboo cane, with which I might repeat the experiment 
 
308 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL, 
 
 as opportunity snould offer, and I found it constantly tor 
 succeed. 
 
 In these experiments, one circumstance struck me with 
 particular surprise. This was the sudden, wide, and 
 forcible spreading of a drop of oil on the face of the water, 
 which I do not know that any body has hitherto considered. 
 If a drop of oil is put on a highly polished marble table, 
 r on a looking-glass that lies horizontally, the drop re 
 mains in its place, spreading very little. But when put on 
 water, it spreads instantly many feet round, becoming so 
 thin as to produce the prismatic colours, for a consider 
 able space, and beyond them so much thinner as to be in 
 visible, except in its effect of smoothing the waves at a 
 much greater distance. It seems as if a mutual repulsion 
 between its particles took place as soon as it touched the 
 water, and a repulsion so strong as to act on other bodies 
 swimming on the surface, as straw, leaves, chips, &c. 
 forcing them to recede every way from the drop, as from a 
 centre, leaving a large clear space. The quantity of tl^s 
 force, and the distance to which it will operate, I have not 
 yet ascertained ; but I think it a curious inquiry, and I wish, 
 to understand whence it arises. 
 
 In our jburney to the north, when we had the pleasure 
 of seeing you at Ormathwaite, we visited the celebrated 
 Mr. Smeaton, near Leeds. Being about to show him the 
 smoothing experiment on a little pond near his house, an 
 ingenious pupil of his, Mr. Jessop, then present, told us of 
 an odd appearance on that pond, which had lately occurred 
 to him. He was about to clean a little cup in which he 
 kept oil, and he threw upon the water some flies that had 
 been drowned in the oil. These flies presently began to 
 move, and turned round on the water very rapidly, as if 
 they were vigorously alive, though on examination he 
 found thev were not so. I immediately concluded that the 
 motion was occasioned by the power of the repulsion 
 
STILLING OF TV AVES BY OIL. 309 
 
 above mentioned, and that the oil issuing gradually from 
 the spungy body of the fly continued the motion. Ho 
 found some more flies drowned in oil, with which the ex 
 periment was repeated before us. To show that it was 
 not any effect of life recovered by the flies; I imitated it by 
 little bits of oiled chips and paper cut in the form of a 
 comma, of the size of a common fly ; when the stream of 
 repelling particles issuing from the point made the comma 
 turn round the contrary way. This is not a chamber ex 
 periment ; for it cannot be well repeated in a bowl or dish 
 of water on the table. A considerable surface of water is 
 necessary to give room for the expansion of a small quan 
 tity of oil. In a dish of water, if the smallest drop of oil 
 be let fall in the middle, the whole surface is presently co 
 vered with a thin greasy film proceeding from the drop ; 
 but as soon as that film has reached the sides of the dish, 
 no more will issue from the drop, but it remains in the form 
 of oil, the sids of the dish putting a stop to its dissipation 
 by prohibiting the farther expansion of the film. 
 % Our friend Sir John Pringle, being soon after in Scot 
 land, learned there that those employed in the herring- 
 fishery could at a distance see where the shoals of herring 
 were, by the smoothness of the water over them, which 
 might possibly be occasioned, he thought, by some oiliness 
 proceeding from their bodies. 
 
 A gentleman from Rhode Island told me, it had been 
 remarked, that the harbour of Newport was ever smooth 
 while any whaling vessels were in it ; which probably arose 
 from hence, that the blubber which they sometimes bring 
 loose in the hold, or the leakage of their barrels, might 
 afford some oil, to mix with that watec, which from time to 
 time they pump out to keep their vessel free, and that some 
 oil might spread over the surface of the water in the har 
 bour, and prevent the forming of any waves. 
 
 This prevention I would thus endeavour to explain* 
 
310 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 
 
 There seems to be no natural-repulsion between water 
 and air, such as to keep them from coming into contact 
 with each other. Hence we find a quantity of air in water ; 
 and if we extract it by means of the air-pump, the same, 
 again exposed to the air, will soon imbibe an equal quan 
 tity. 
 
 Therefore, air in motion, which is wind, in passing over 
 the smooth surface of water, may rub, as it were, upon that 
 surface, and raise it into wrinkles, which, if the wind con 
 tinues, are the elements of future waves. 
 
 The smallest wave once raised does not immediately 
 subside, and leave the neighbouring water quiet : but in 
 subsiding raises nearly as much of the water next to it, the 
 friction of the parts making little difference. Thus a stone 
 dropped in a pool raises first a single wave round itself; and 
 leaves it, by sinking to the bottom ; but that first wave sub 
 siding raises a second, the second a third, and so on in ch> 
 cles to a great extent. 
 
 A small power continually operating will produce a great 
 action. A finger applied to a weighty suspended bell can 
 at first move it but little ; if repeatedly applied, though 
 with no greater strength, the motion increases till the bell 
 swings to its utmost height, and with a force that cannot be 
 resisted by the whole strength of the arm and body. Thus 
 the small first~raised waves, being continually acted upon 
 by the wind, are, though the wind does not increase in 
 strength, continually increased in magnitude, rising higher 
 and extending their bases, so as to include a vast mass of 
 water in each wave, which in its motion acts with great 
 \iolence. 
 
 But if there be a mutual repulsion between the particles 
 of oil, and no attraction between oil and water, oil dropped 
 on water will not be held together by adhesion to the spot 
 whereon it falls; it will not be imbibed by the water; it 
 will be at liberty to expand itself: and it will spread on a 
 
STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 311 
 
 surface tha besides being smooth to the most perfect de 
 gree of polish, prevents perhaps, by repelling the oil, till 
 immediate contact, keeping it at a minute distance from it 
 self; and the expansion will continue till the mutual repul 
 sion between the particles of the oil is weakened and re 
 duced to "nothing by their distance. 
 
 Now I imagine that the wind, blowing over water thus 
 covered with a film of oil, cannot easily catch upon it, so 
 as to raise the first wrinkles, but slides over it, and leaves 
 it smooth as it finds it. It moves a little the oil, indeed, 
 which, being between it and the water, serves it to slide 
 with, and prevents friction, as oil does between those parts 
 of a machine, that would otherwise rub hard together. 
 Hence the oil dropped on the windward side of a pond 
 proceeds gradually to leeward, as m^y be seen by the 
 smoothness it carries with it, quite to the opposite side. 
 For the wind being thus prevented from raising the first 
 wrinkles, that I call the elements of waves, cannot produce 
 waves, which are to be made by continually acting upon, 
 and enlarging those elements, and thus the whole pond is 
 calmed. 
 
 Totally therefore we might suppress the waves in any 
 required place, if we could come at the windward place 
 where they take their rise. This in the ocean can seldom 
 if ever be done. But perhaps something may be done on 
 particular occasions, to moderate the violence of the waves 
 when we are in the midst of them, and prevent their break 
 ing where that would be inconvenient. 
 
 For when the wind blows fresh, there are continually 
 rising on the back of every great wave ^a number of small 
 ones, which roughen its surface, and give the wind hold, 
 as it were, to push it with greater force. This hold is di 
 minished, by preventing the generation of those small ones. 
 AaJ possibly too, when a wave s surface is oiled, the wind, 
 in passing over it, may rather in some degree press it down, 
 
312 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIlI 
 
 and contribute to prevent it; rising again, instead of pro 
 moting it. 
 
 This as mere conjecture would have little weight, if the 
 apparent effects of pouring oil into the midst of waves 
 were not considerable, and as yet not otherwise accounted 
 For. 
 
 When the wind blows so fresh, as that the waves are not 
 sufficiently quick in obeying its impulse, their tops, being 
 thinner and lighter, are pushed forward, broken, and turned 
 over in a white foam. Common waves lift a vessel without 
 entering it; but these when large sometimes break above 
 and pour over it, doing great damage. 
 
 That this effect might in any degree be prevented, or the 
 height and violence of waves in the sea moderated, we had 
 no certain account; Pliny s authority for the practice of 
 seamen in his time being slighted. .But discoursing lately 
 on this subject with his excellency Count Bentinck, of 
 Holland, his son the honourable Captain Bentinck, and the 
 learned Professor Allemand (to all whom I showed the ex 
 periment of smoothing in a windy day the large piece of 
 water at Ihe head of the Green Park) a letter was men 
 tioned, which had been received by the count from Bata- 
 via, relative to the saving" of a Dutch ship in a storm, by 
 pouring oil into the sea. I much desired to see that letter, 
 and a copy of it was promised me, which I afterward re* 
 ceiyed. 
 
 Extract of a Letter on the Same. 
 
 " Near the islands Paul and Amsterdam, we met with 
 a storm, which had nothing particular in it worthy of being 
 communicated to you, except that the captain found him- 
 gplf obliged, for greater safety in wearing the ship, to pour 
 
STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 3ia 
 
 oil into the sea, to prerent the waves breaking over her, 
 which had an excellent effect, and succeeded in preserving 
 us. As he poured out but a little at a time, the East India 
 Company owes perhaps its ship to only six demiames of 
 oil-olive. I was present upon deck when this was done; 
 and I should not have mentioned this circumstance to you, 
 but that we have found people here so prejudiced against 
 the experiment, as to make it necessary for the officers on 
 board and myself to give a certificate of the truth on this 
 head, of which we made no difficulty." 
 
 On this occasion, I mentioned to Captain Bentinck a 
 thought which had occurred to me in reading the voyages 
 of our late circumnavigators, particularly where accounts 
 are given of pleasant and fertile islands which they much 
 desired to land upon, when sickness made it more neces 
 sary, but could not effect a landing through a violent surf 
 breaking on the shore, which rendered it impracticable. 
 My idea was, that possibly by sailing to and fro at some 
 distance from such lee-shore, continually pouring oil into 
 the sea, the waves might be so much depressed, and 
 lessened before they reached the shore, as to abate the 
 height and violence of the surf, and permit a landing; 
 which, in such circumstances, was a point of sufficient im 
 portance to justify the expense of the oil that might be 
 requisite for the purpose. That gentleman, who is ever 
 ready to promote what may be of public utility, though his 
 own ingenious inventions have net always met with the 
 countenance they merited, was so obliging as to invite me 
 to Portsmouth, where an opportunity would probably offer, 
 in the course of a few days, of making the experiment on 
 some of the shores about Spithead, in which he kindly pro 
 posed to accompany me, and to give assistance with such 
 boats as might be necessary. Accordingly, about the 
 middle of October last, I went with some friends to 
 Portsmouth ; and a day of wind happening, which made a 
 
3U STILLING OF WAVES Bf OIL. 
 
 ee-shore between Haslar-hospital and the point near 
 Jillkecker, we went from the Centaur with the long-boat 
 and barge towards that shore. Our disposition was this: 
 the long-boat was anchored about a quarter of a mile from 
 the shore ; part of the company were landed behind the 
 point (a place more sheltered from the" sea) who came round 
 and placed themselves opposite to the long-boat, where 
 they might observe the surf, and note if any change oc 
 curred in it upon using the oil. Another party, in the 
 barge, plied to windward of the long-boat, as far from her 
 as she was from the shore, making trips of about half a 
 mile each, pouring oil continually out of a large stone- 
 bottle, through a hole in the cork, somewhat bigger than a 
 goose-quill. The expeviment had not, in the main point, 
 the success we wished, for no material difference was ob 
 served in the height or force of the surf upon the shore ; 
 Dut those who were in the long-boat could observe a tract 
 of smoothed water, the whole of the distance in which the 
 barge poured the oil, and gradually spreading in breadth 
 towards the long-boat. I call it smoothed, not that it was 
 laid level; but because, though the swell continued, its sur 
 face was not roughened by the wrinkles, or smaller waves, 
 before-mentioned ; and none or very few white caps (or 
 waves whose tops turn over in foam) appeared in that whole 
 space, though to windward and leeward of it there were 
 plenty ; and a wherry, that came round the point under 
 sail, in her way to Portsmouth, seemed to turn into that 
 tract of choice, and to use it from end to end, as a piece of 
 turnpike-road. 
 
 It may be of use to relate the circumstances of an ex 
 periment that does not succeed, since they may give hints 
 of amendment in future trials : it is therefore I have been 
 thus particular. I shall only add what I apprehend may 
 have been the reason of our disappointment. 
 
 I conceive, that the operation of oil oil water is, first, to 
 
STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL, 315 
 
 prevent the rising of new waves by the wind : and, se 
 condly, to prevent its pushing those before raised with 
 such force, and consequently their continuance of the same 
 repeated height, as they would have done, if their surface 
 were not oiled. But oil will not prevent wares being 
 raised by another power, by a stone for instance, falling 
 into a still pool ; for they then rise by the mechanical im 
 pulse of the stone, which the greasiness on the surround 
 ing water cannot lessen or prevent, as it can prevent the 
 winds catching the surface and raising k into waves. 
 Now waves onc raised, whether by the wind or any other 
 power, iiave the same mechanical operation; by which they 
 continue to rise and fall, as a pendulum will continue to 
 swing, a long time after the force ceases to act by which 
 the motion was first produced : that motion will, however, 
 cease in time ; but time is necessary. Therefore, though 
 oil spread on an agitated sea may weaken the push of the 
 wind on those waves whose surfaces are covered by it, and 
 so, by receiving less fresh impulse, they may gradually sub 
 side ; yet a considerable time, or a distance through which 
 they will take time to move, may be necessary to make the 
 effect sensible on any shore in a diminution of the surf: for 
 we know, that when wind ceases suddenly, the waves it 
 has raised do not as suddenly subside, but settle gradually, 
 and are not quite down till after the wind has ceased. So 
 though we should, by oiling them, take off the effect of 
 wind on waves already raised, it is not to be expected that 
 those waves should be instantly levelled. The motion they 
 have received will, lor some time, continue ; and if the 
 shore is not far distant, they arrive there so soon, that 
 their effect upon it will not be visibly diminished. Pos 
 sibly, therefore, if we had begun our operations at a 
 greater distance, the effect might have been more sensible. 
 And perhaps we did not pour oil in sufficient quantity, 
 Future experiments may determine this. 
 
16 TKOCtlLATiON. 
 
 1 was, however, greatly obliged to Captain Bentinck, 
 for the cheerful and ready aids he gave me: and I ought 
 not to omit mentioning Mr. Banks, Dr. Solander, General 
 Carnoc, and Dr. Blagden, who all assisted at the experi 
 ment, during tliat blustering unpleasant day, with a patience 
 and activity that could only be inspired by a zeal for the 
 improvement of knowledge, such especially as might pos 
 sibly be of use to men in situations of distress. 
 
 I would wish you to communicate this to your ingenious 
 friend, Mr. Parish, with my respects ; and believe me to 
 be, with sincere esteem, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 Your most obepUent, humble servant, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 FROM DR. PERKINS, OF BOSTON, TO B. FRANKLIN, ESQ. 
 
 On the number of Deaths in Philadelphia, by Inocu 
 lation. 
 
 SIR, Boston, Aug. 3, 1752. 
 
 This comes to you on account of Dr. Douglas : he de* 
 sired me to write to you for what you know of the number 
 that died of the inoculation in Philadelphia, telling me he 
 designed to write something on the small-pox shortly. We 
 shall both be obliged to you for a word on this affair. 
 
 Tbe chief particulars of our visitation you have in the 
 public prints. But the less degree of mortality than usual 
 in the common way of infection, seems chiefly owing to the 
 purging method designed to prevent the secondary fever: 
 a method first begun and carried on in this town, and with 
 success beyond expectation. We lost one in eleven one- 
 sixth, but had we been experienced in this way> at the first 
 
INOCULATION. 317 
 
 coming of the distemper, probably the proportion had been 
 but one in thirteen or fourteen. 
 
 In the year 1730 we lost one in nine, which is more fa 
 vourable than ever before with us. The distemper pretty 
 much the same then as now, but some circumstances not so 
 kind this time. 
 
 If there be any particulars which you want to know, please 
 to signify what they are, and I. shall send them. 
 
 The number of our inhabitants decreases. On a strict 
 inquiry, the overseers of the poor find but fourteen thou 
 sand one hundred and ninety whites, and one thousand five 
 hundred and forty-four blacks, including- those absent, on 
 account of the small-pox, many of whom, it is probable, will 
 never return. 
 
 I pass this opportunity without any particulars of my old 
 theme. One thing, however, I must mention, which is, 
 that perhaps my last letters contained something that 
 seemed to militate with your doctrine of the origin, &c* 
 But my design was only to relate the phenomena as they 
 appeared to me. I have received so much light and plea 
 sure from your writings, as to prejudice me in favour of 
 every thing from your hand, and leave me only liberty to 
 observe, and a power of dissenting when some great pro 
 bability might oblige me : and if at any time that be the 
 case, you will certainly hear of it. 
 
 T am, Sir, &c. 
 
 PROM BENJAMIN FRANKLIN) ESQ. OF PHILADELPHIA. 
 In -Answer to the Preceding; 
 
 SIR, Philadelphia, Aug. 13, 1752. 
 
 I received your favour of the 3d instant. Some time 
 
 last winter I procured from one of our physicians an ac 
 
INOCULATION. 
 
 of the nnmber of persons inoculated during the five 
 visitations of the small-pox we have had in twenty-twa 
 years; which account I sent to Mr. W. V. of your town, 
 and have no copy. If I remember right, the number ex 
 ceeded eight hundred, and the deaths were but four. J 
 suppose Mr. V. will show you the account, if he ever re 
 ceived it. Those four were all that our doctors allow to 
 have died of the small-pox by inoculation, though I think 
 there were two more of the inoculated who died of the dis 
 temper : but the eruptions appearing soon after the ope 
 ration, it is supposed they had taken the infection before, 
 in the common way. 
 
 I shall be glad to see what Dr. Douglas may write on 
 the subject. I have a French piece printed at Paris, 1724, 
 entitled, Observations sur la Saignee, du Pied, et sur la 
 Purgation au commencement de la Petite Verolc, and 
 liaisons de doulte contre I Inoculation. A letter of the 
 doctor s is mentioned in it. If he or you have it not, and 
 desire to see it, I will send it. Please to favour me with 
 the particulars of your purging method, to prevent the se 
 condary fever. 
 
 I am indebted for your preceding letter, but business 
 Sometimes obliges one to postpone philosphical amuse 
 ments. Whatever I have wrote of that kind, are really as 
 they are entitled, but conjectures and suppositions ; which 
 ought always to give place, when careful observation mi 
 litates against them. I own I have too strong a penchant-, 
 to the building of hypotheses ; they indulge my natural in- ; 
 dolence: 1 wish I had more of your patience and accuracy 
 m making observations, on which alone true philosophy 
 can be founded. And, I assure you, nothing can be more^ 
 obliging to me, than your kind communication of those 
 you make, however they may disagree with my prc-con- 
 ceived notions. 
 
 I aj\i sorry to hear that the number of your inhabitants 
 
PERNICIOUS EFFECTS OF LEAD. 319 
 
 decreases. T some time since wrote a small paper of 
 thoughts on the peopling of countries, which, if I can 
 iind I will send you, to obtain your sentiments. The fa 
 vourable opinion you express of my writings, may, you see, 
 occasion you more trouble than you expected from, 
 Sir, your s, &e. 
 
 JB. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN ESQ. 
 On the Effects of Lead upon the human Constitution. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND, Philadelphia, July 31, 1786. 
 
 I recollect that jwhcn I had last the pleasure of seeing; 
 you at Southampton, now a twelvemonth since, we had 
 some conversation on the bad effects of lead taken in 
 wardly ; and that at your request I promised to send you 
 in writing a particular account of several facts I then men 
 tioned to you, of which you thought some good use might 
 be made. I now sit down to fulfil that promise. 
 
 The first thing I remember of this kind was a general 
 discourse in Boston when I was a boy, of a complaint from 
 North Carolina against New England rum, that it poisoned 
 their people, giving them the dry-belly-ach, with a loss of 
 the use of their limbs. The distilleries being examined OQ 
 the occasion, it was found, that several of them used leaden 
 still-heads and worms, and the physicians were of opinion, 
 that the mischief was occasioned by that use of lead. The 
 legislature of Massachusetts thereupon passed an act, pro 
 hibiting, under severe penalties, the use of such s.till-heads 
 and worms hereafter. 
 
 In 1724, being in London, T went to work in the 
 printing-house of Mr. Palmer, .Bartholomew-dose, as a 
 
820 PERNICIOUS EFFECTS OF LEAD. 
 
 compositor. I there found a practice, I had never seen 
 before, of drying- a case of types (which are wet in distri 
 bution) by placing it sloping before the fire. I found this 
 bad the additional advantage, when the types were not 
 only dried but heated, of being comfortable to the hands 
 working over them in cold weather. I therefore some 
 times heated my case when the types did not want drying. 
 But an old workman observing it, advised me not to do so, 
 telling me I might lose the use of my hands by it, as two of 
 our companions had nearly done ; one of whom, that used 
 to earn his guinea a wCek, could not then make more than 
 ten shillings; and the other, who had the dangles, but 
 seven and sixpence. This, with a kind of obscure pain, 
 that I had sometimes felt, as it were, in the bones of my 
 hand when working over the types made very hot, induced 
 me to omit the practice. But talking afterwards with Mr. 
 James, a letter- founder in the same Close, and asking him 
 if his people, who worked over the little furnaces of melted 
 metal, were not subject to that disorder, he made light of 
 any danger from the effluvia, but ascribed it to particles of 
 the metal swallowed with their food by slovenly workmen, 
 who went to their meals after handling the metal, without 
 -well washing their fingers, so that some of the metalline 
 particles were taken off by their bread and eaten with it. 
 This appeared to have some reason in it. But the pain 
 I had experienced made me still afraid of those effluvia. 
 
 Being in Derbyshire at some of the furnaces for smelt 
 ing of lead ore, I was told, that the smoke of those furnaces 
 was pernicious to the neighbouring grass and other vege 
 tables, but I do not recollect to have heard any thing of ths 
 effect of such vegetables eaten by animals. It may be well 
 to make the inquiry. 
 
 In America I have often observed, that on the roofs of 
 our shingled-houss, where moss is apt to grow in northern 
 exposures, if there be any thing on the roof painted witli 
 
PERNICIOUS EFFECTS OF LEAD. 
 
 fchite lead, such as balusters, or frames of dormant win 
 dows, &c. there is constantly a streak on the shingles from 
 such paint down to the eaves, on which no moss will grow, 
 but the wood remains constantly clean and free from it. 
 We seldom drink rain-water that falls on our houses ; and 
 if we did, perhaps the small quantity of lead descending 
 from such paint might not be sufficient to produce any 
 sensible ill effect on our bodies. But I have been told of 
 a case in Europe, I forget the v place, where a whole family 
 was alllictcd with what we call the dry-belly-ach, or colica 
 pictorum, by drinking rain-water. It was at a country- 
 seat, which being situated too high to have the advantage 
 of a well, was supplied with water from a tank, which re 
 ceived the water from the leaded roofs. This had been 
 drank several years without mischief, but some young 
 trees planted near the house growing up above the roof, 
 and shedding their leaves upon it, it was supposed, that an 
 acid in those leaves had corroded the lead they covered, 
 and furnished the water of that year with its baneful par 
 ticles and qualities* 
 
 When I was in Paris with Sir John Pringle in 1767, he 
 visited La Charlie, an hospital particularly famous for the 
 cure of that malady, and brought from thence a pamphlet, 
 containing a list of the names of persons, specifying their 
 professions or trades, who had been cured there. I had 
 the curiosity to examine that list, and found, that all the 
 patients were of trades, that some way or other use or 
 \vork in lead; such as plumbers, glaziers, painters, &c. 
 excepting only two kinds, stone-cutters and soldiers^ In 
 them, I could not reconcile it to my notion, that lead was 
 the cause of that disorder. But on my mentioning it to a 
 physician of that hospital, he informed me, that the stone 
 cutters are continually using melted lead, to fix the ends 
 4>f iron balustrades in stones ; and that the soldiers had 
 
 Y 
 
G22 DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH; 
 
 been employed by painters as labourers in grinding of 
 colours. 
 
 This, my dear friend, is all I can at present recollect on 
 the subject. You mil see by it, that the opinion of this 
 mischievous effect from lead, is at least above sixty years 
 old ; and you will observe with concern how long a useful 
 truth may be known and exist, before it is generally re- 
 fceived and practised on. 
 
 I am ever your s most affectionately, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 TO M. DUEOURG. 
 
 ^Observations on the prevailing Doctrines of Life and 
 Death. 
 
 * * * Your observations on the causes of death, and the 
 experiments which you propose for recalling to life those 
 who appear to be killed by lightning, demonstrate equally 
 your sagacity and your humanity. It appears, that the 
 doctrines of life and death, in general, are yet but little 
 Understood. 
 
 A toad buried in sand will live, it is said, till the sand 
 becomes petrified : and then, being 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 accustomed to see all the 
 animals wjth which we are acquainted, eat and drink, it 
 appears to us difficult to conceive, how a toad can be sup 
 ported in such a dungeon : but if we reflect, that the ne 
 cessity of nourishment, which animals experience in their 
 ordinary state, proceeds from the continual waste of their 
 
DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH. 323 
 
 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, ser 
 pents, and some species of fish, should be able to subsist a 
 considerable time without any nourishment whatever. A 
 plant, with its flowers, fades and dies immediately, if ex 
 posed to the air without having its root immersed in a 
 humid soil, from which it may draw a sufficient quantity of 
 moisture to supply that which exhales from its substance* 
 and is carried off continually by the air. Perhaps, how* 
 ever, if it were buried in quicksilver, it might preserve for 
 a considerable space of time its vegetable life, its smell and 
 colour. If this be the case, it might prove a commodious 
 method of transporting from distant countries those deli 
 cate plants, which are unable to sustain the inclemency of 
 the weather at sea, and which require particular care and 
 attention. I have seen an instance of common flies pre 
 served in a manner somewhat similar. They had been 
 drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the time when 
 it was bottled in Virginia, to be sent hither (to London). 
 At the opening of one of the bottles, at the house of a 
 friend where I then was, three drowned flies fell into tho 
 first glass that was filled. Having heard it remarked that 
 drowned flies were capable of being revived by the rays of 
 the sun, I proposed making the experiment upon these t 
 they were therefore exposed to the sun upon a sieve, which 
 had been employed to strain them out of the wine. In lesa 
 than three hours, two of them began by degrees to recover 
 life. They commenced by some convulsive motions of the 
 thighs, and at length they raised themselves upon their 
 legs, wiped their eyes with their fore-feet, beat and brushed 
 their wings with their hind-feet, and soon after began to 
 fly, finding themselves in Old England, without knowing 
 
324 ON THE PRICE OF CORN, 
 
 how they came thither. The third continued lifeless tilt 
 sun-set, when, losing- all hopes of him, he was thrown 
 away. 
 
 I wish it were possible, from this instance, to invent a 
 method of embalming drowned persons, in such a manner 
 that they may be recalled to life at any period, however 
 distant ; for having a very ardent desire to see and observe 
 the, state of America an hundred years hence, I should pre 
 fer .to an ordinary death, the being immersed in a cask of 
 Madeira wine, with a few friends till that time, to be then 
 recalled to life by the solar warmth of my dear country ! 
 But since in all probability we live in an age too early and 
 too near the infancy of science, to hope to see such an art 
 brought in our time to its perfection, I must for the pre 
 sent content myself with the treat, which you are so kind 
 as to promise me, of the resurrection of a fowl or a turkey- 
 eock, 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 B. FRANKLIN 
 
 On the Price of Corn , ancFTlfanagcment of the Poor. 
 TO MESSIEURS THE PUBLIC. 
 
 t am one of that class of people that feeds you all, and at 
 present is abused by you all; in short, I am a. farmer. 
 
 By your news-papers we are told, that God had sent a 
 very short harvest to some other countries of Europe. I 
 thought this might be in favour of Old England ; and that 
 now we should get a good price for our grain, which would 
 bring millions among us, and make us flow in money : that 
 to be sure is scarce enough. 
 
 But the wisdom of government forbad the exportation. 
 
AND MANAGEMENT OF THE POOR. 325 
 
 Well, says I, then we must be content with the market- 
 price at home. ,. 
 
 No, say my lords the mob, you sha n t have that. Bring 
 your corn to market if you dare ; we ll sell it lor you, for 
 less money, or take it for nothing . 
 
 Being thus attacked by both ends of the constitution, 
 the head and tail of government, what am I to do? 
 
 Must I keep my corn in the barn, to feed and increase 
 the breed of rats ? be it so ; they cannot be less thankful 
 than those I have been used to feed. 
 
 Are we fanners the only people to be grudged the 
 profits of our honest labour ? And why ? One of the late 
 scribblers against us gives abill of fare of the provisions at 
 my daughter s wedding, and proclaims to all the world, that 
 we had the insolence to eat beef and pudding! Has he 
 not read the precept in the good book, Thou shall not 
 muzzle the inouth of the ox that treadelh out the corn; 
 or does he think us less worthy of good living than our 
 oxen? 
 
 O, but the manufacturers! the manufacturers! they are 
 to be favoured, and they must have bread at a cheap rate! 
 
 Hark ye, Mr. Oaf : The farmers live splendidly, you 
 say. And pray, would you have them hoard the money 
 they get ? Their fine clothes and furniture, do they make 
 them themselves or for one another, and so keep the mo 
 ney among them ? Or, do they employ these your darlirg 
 manufacturers, and so scatter it again all over the nation? 
 
 The wool would produce me a better price, if it were 
 suffered to go to foreign markets ; but that, Messieurs the 
 Public,, your laws will not permit. It must be kept all at 
 borne, that our dear manufacturers may have it the cheaper. 
 And then, having yourselves thus lessened our encourage 
 ment for raising sheep, you curse us for the scarcity of 
 mutton ! 
 
 I have heard my grandfather say, that the farmers sub- 
 
326 ON THE PRICE OF CORN, 
 
 mrtted to the prohibition on the exportation of wool, being 
 made to expect and believe, that when the manufacturer 
 bought his wool cheaper, they should also have their cloth 
 cheaper. But the deuce a bit. It has been growing 
 dearer and dearer from that day to this. How so? Why, 
 truly, the cloth is exported ; and that keeps up the price. 
 
 Now if it be a good principle, that the exportation of a 
 commodity is to be restrained, that so our people at home 
 may have it the cheaper; stick to that principle, and go 
 thorough stitch with it. Prohibit the exportation of your 
 cloth, your leather, and shoes, your iron-ware, and your 
 manufactures of all sorts, to make them all cheapen at 
 home. And cheap enough they will be, I will warrant YOU 
 till people leave off making them. 
 
 Some folks seem to think they ought never to be easy 
 till England becomes another Lubberland, where it is 
 fancied the streets are paved with penny-rolls, the houses 
 tiled with pancakes, and chickens, ready roasted* cry, 
 Come eat me. 
 
 I say, when you are sure you have got a good prin 
 ciple, stick to it, and carry it through. I hear it is said, 
 
 that though it was necessary and right for the m y to 
 
 advise a prohibition of the exportation of corn, yet it was 
 contrary to law ; and also, that though it was contrary to 
 law for the mob to obstruct waggons, yet it was necessary 
 and right. Just the same thing to a tittle. Now they tell 
 me, an act of indemnity ought to pass in favour of the 
 
 m y, to secure them from the consequences of having 
 
 acted illegally. If so, pass another in favour of the mob. 
 Others say, some of the mob ought to be hanged, by way 
 of example. If so, but I say no more than I have 
 
 said before, when you are sure that you have got a good 
 principle, go through with it. 
 
 You say, poor labourers cannot afford to buy bread at 
 a high price, unless they had higher wages. Possibly. 
 
MANAGEMENT OF THE POOR. 321 
 
 But how shall we farmers be able to afford our labourers 
 higher wages, if you will not allow us to get, when we 
 might have it, a higher price for our corn ? 
 
 By all that I can learn, we should at least have had a 
 guinea a quarter more, if the exportation had been al 
 lowed. And this money England would have got from 
 foreigners. 
 
 But, it seems, we farmers must take so much less, that 
 the poor may have it so much cheaper. 
 
 This operates then as a tax for the maintenance of tlio- 
 poor. A very good thing, you will say. But I ask, why 
 a partial tax ? why laid ofi us farmers only ? If it bo a 
 good thing, pray, Messieurs the Public, take your share of 
 it, by indemnifying us a little out of your public treasury. 
 In doing a good thing, there is both honour and pleasure 
 you are welcome to your share of both. 
 
 For my own part, I am not so well satisfied of the good 
 ness of this thing. I am for doing good to the poor, but 
 I differ in opinion about the means. I think the best way 
 of doing good to the poor, is, not making them easy in po- 
 > 7 erty, but leading or jdriving them out of it. In my youth, 
 Ftravelled much, and 1 observed in different countries, 
 that the more public provisions were made for the poor, 
 the less they provided for themselves, and of course be 
 came poorer. And, on the contrary, the less was done 
 for them, the more they did for themselves, and became 
 richer. There is no country in the world where so many 
 provisions are established for them ; so many hospitals to 
 receive them when they are sick or lame, founded and 
 maintained by voluntary charities; so many alms-houses 
 for the aged of both sexes, together with a solemn general 
 law made by the rich to subject their estates to a heavy tax 
 for the support of the poor. Under all these obligations, 
 are our poor, modest, humble, and thankful ? And do they 
 use their best endeavours to maintain themselves, ancf 
 
828 ON THE PRICE OF CORK. 
 
 lighten our shoulders of this burden ? On the contrary, I 
 affirm, that there is no country in the world in which the 
 poor are more idle, dissolute, drunken, and insolent. The 
 day you passed that act, you took away from before their 
 eyes the greatest of all inducements to industry, frugality, 
 and sobriety, by giving them a dependence on somewhat 
 else than a careful accumulation during youth and health, 
 for support in age or sickness. In short, you offered a 
 premkim for the encouragement of idleness, and you 
 should not now wonder, that it has had its effect in the in 
 crease of poverty. Repeal that law, and you will soon see 
 a change in their manners, Saint Monday and Saint 
 Tuesday will soon cease to be holidays. Six days shalt 
 ihou labour, though one of the old commandments long 
 treated as out of date, will again be looked upon as a re 
 spectable precept; industry will increase, and with it 
 plenty among the lower people; their circumstances will 
 mend, and more will be done for their happiness by inuring 
 them to provide for themselves,, than could be done by 
 dividing all your estates among them. 
 J Excuse me, Messieurs the Public, if, upon this interest 
 ing subject, I put you to the trouble of reading a little of 
 my nonsense ; I am sure I have lately read a great deal 
 of yours, and therefore from you (at least from those of 
 you who are writers) I deserve a little indulgence. I an? 
 your s, &c. 
 
 ARATQR, 
 
ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, &c. 320 
 
 TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ. 
 
 On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry. 
 . Written in 1781. . 
 
 It is wonderful how preposterously the affairs of this 
 world are managed. Naturally one would imagine, that 
 the interest of a few individuals should give way to general 
 interest; but individuals manage their affairs with so much 
 more application, industry, and address, than the public 
 do their s, that general interest most commonly gives way 
 to particular. We assemble parliaments and councils, to 
 have the benefit of their collected wisdom; but we neces 
 sarily have, at the same time, the inconvenience of their col 
 lected 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 regulating commerce, an as 
 sembly of great men is the greatest fool upon earth. 
 
 I have not yet, indeed, thought of a remedy for luxury. 
 I am not sure that in a great state it is capable of a re 
 medy, nor that the evil is in itself always so great as it is 
 represented. Suppose we include in the definition of 
 luxury all unnecessary expense, and then let us consider, 
 whether laws to prevent such expense are possible to be 
 executed in a great country, and whether, if they could be 
 executed, our people generally would be happier, or even 
 richer. Is not the hope of being one day able to purchase 
 and enjoy luxuries, a great spur to labour and industry? 
 May not luxury therefore produce more than it consumes, 
 if, without such a spur, people would be, as they are na 
 turally 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, 
 
330 ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, 
 
 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 T 
 " When my daughter appeared with it at meeting, it was 
 so much admired, that all the girls resolved to get such 
 caps from Philadelphia; and my wife and I computed, that 
 the whole could not have cost less than a hundred pounds." 
 " True," said the farmer, " but you do not tell all the 
 story. I think the cap was nevertheless an advantage tu 
 us, for it was the first thing that put our girls upon knitting 
 worsted mittens for sale at Philadelphia, that they might 
 have wherewithal to buy caps and ribbons there, and you 
 know that that industry has continued, and is likely to con 
 tinue- and increase to a much greater value, and answer 
 better purposes." Upon the whole, I was more reconciled 
 to this little piece of luxury, since not only the girls were 
 made happier by having fine caps, but the Philadelphians 
 by the supply of warm mittens. 
 
 In our commercial towns upon the sea-coast, fortunes 
 will occasionally be made. Some of those who grow rich 
 will be prudent, live within bounds, and preserve what 
 they have gained for their posterity : others, fond of show 
 ing their wealth, will be extravagant, and ruin themselves. 
 L.aws cannot prevent this : and perhaps it is not always an 
 evil to the public. A shilling spent idly by a fool, may be 
 picked up by a wiser person, who knows better what to do 
 with it. It is therefore not lost. A vain silly fellow 
 builds a fine house, furnishes it richly, lives in it expen 
 sively, and in a few years ruins himself: but the masons, 
 carpenters, smiths, and other honest tradesman, have been 
 by his employ assisted in maintaining and raising their fa- 
 
AND INDUSTRY. 33! 
 
 milics ; the farmer has been paid for his labour, and encou 
 raged, and the estate is now in better hands. In some 
 cases, indeed, certain modes of luxury may be a public 
 evil, in the same manner as it is a private one. If there 
 be a nation, for instance, that exports its beef and linen, to 
 pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a great 
 part of its people live upon potatoes, and wear no shirts, 
 wherein does it differ from the sot, who lets his family 
 starve, and sells his clothes to buy drink ? Our American, 
 commerce is, I confess, a little in this way. We sell our 
 victuals to the islands for rum and sugar ; the substantial 
 necessaries of life for superfluities. But we have plenty, 
 and live well nevertheless, though, by being- soberer, wo 
 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 possesses all the 
 virtues that tend to promote happiness and public prospe 
 rity. Those towns are not much regarded by the country ; 
 they are hardly considered as an essential part of the states, 
 and the experience of the last war has shown, that their 
 being in the possession of the enemy did not necessarily 
 draw on the subjection of the country, which bravely con 
 tinued to maintain its freedom and independence notwith 
 standing. 
 
 It has been computed by some political arithmetician, 
 that if every man and woman would work for four hours 
 each day on something useful, that labour would produce 
 sufficient to procure all the necessaries and comforts of 
 life, want and misery would be banished out of the world, 
 
332 ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, 
 
 and the rest of the twenty-four hours might be leisure and 
 pleasure. 
 
 What occasions then so much want and misery? It is 
 the employment of men and women in works, that produce 
 neither the necessaries nor conveniences of life, who, with 
 those who do nothing consume necessaries raised by the 
 laborious. To explain this. 
 
 The first elements of wealth are obtained by labour, from 
 the earth and waters. I have land, and raise corn. With 
 -this, if I feed a family that does nothing-, my corn will be 
 consumed, and at the end of the year I shall be no richer 
 than I was at the beginning. But if, while I feed them, I 
 employ some in spinning-, others in making bricks, ~&c. 
 for building, the value of my corn will be arrested and re 
 main with me, and at the end of the year we may all be 
 better clothed and better lodged. And if, instead of em 
 ploying a man I feed in making bricks, I employ him in 
 fiddling forme, the corn he eats is gone, and no part of his 
 manufacture remains to augment the wealth and conve 
 nience of the family : I shall ^therefore be the poorer for 
 this fiddling man, unless the rest of my family work more 
 or eat less to make up the deficiency he occasions. 
 
 Look round the world, and sec the millions employed 
 in doing nothing, or in something that amounts to 
 nothing, when the necessaries and conveniences of life 
 are in question. What is the bulk of commerce, for 
 which we fight and destroy each other, but the toil of mil 
 lions for superfluities, to the great hazard and loss of many 
 lives, by the constant dangers of the sea? How much la 
 bour is spent in building and fitting great ships, to go to 
 China and Arabia for tea and coffee, to the West Indies 
 for sugar, to America for tobacco ? These things cannot 
 be called the necessaries of life, for ou." ancestors lived very 
 ooifortably without them. 
 
AND INDtSTHY. 333 
 
 A question may be asked : could all these people now 
 employed in raising-, making, or carrying superfluities, he 
 subsisted by raising necessaries ? I think they migh k 
 The world is large, and a great part of it still uncultivated. 
 Many hundred millions of acres in Asia, Africa, and 
 America, are still in a forest, and a great deal even in Eu 
 rope. On a hundred acres of this forest a man might be 
 come a substantial farmer, and an hundred thousand men, 
 employed in clearing each his hundred acres, would hardly 
 brighten a spot big enough to be visible from the moon, 
 unless with Herschel s telescope ; so vast are the regions 
 still in wood. 
 
 It is, however, some comfort to reflect, that, upon the 
 whole, the quantity of industry and prudence among man 
 kind exceeds the quantity of idleness and folly. Hence 
 the increase of good buildings, farms cultivated, and popu-< 
 lous cities filled with wealth, all over Europe, which a few 
 ages since were only to be found on the coasts of the Me- 
 diterranean ; and this notwithstanding the mad wars con 
 tinually raging, by which are often destroyed in one year 
 the works of many years peace. So that we may hope the 
 luxury of a few merchants on the coast will not be the ruin 
 of America. 
 
 One reflection more, and I will end this long rambling 
 letter. Almost all the parts of our bodies require somo 
 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 assistance of spectacles, which 
 could not much impair our finances. But the eyes of othor 
 people are the eyes that ruin us. If all but myself were 
 blind, I should want neither fine clothes, fine houses, nor 
 fine furniture. 
 
834 SMUGGLING. 
 
 On Smuggling, and its various Species. 
 
 SIR, **m 
 
 There are many people that would be thought, and even 
 think themselves, honest men, who fail nevertheless in par 
 ticular points of honesty ; deviating from that character 
 sometimes by the prevalence of mode or custom, and 
 sometimes through mere inattention ; so that their honesty 
 is partial only, and not general or universal. Thus one, 
 who would scorn to over-reach you in a bargain, shall 
 make no scruple of tricking you a little now and then at 
 cards; another that plays with the utmost fairness, shall 
 with great freedom cheat you in the sale of a horse. But 
 there is no kind of dishonesty, into which otherwise good 
 people more easily and frequently fall, than that of defraud 
 ing government of its revenues by smuggling, when they 
 Tiave an opportunity, or encouraging smugglers by buying 
 their goods. 
 
 I fell into these reflections the other day, on hearing- 
 two gentlemen of reputation discoursing about a small 
 estate, which one of them was inclined to sell, and the 
 other to buy; when the seller, in recommending the place, 
 remarked, that its situation was very advantageous on this 
 account, that, being on the sea-coast in a smuggling 
 country, one had frequent opportunities of buying many 
 of the expensive articles used in a family (such as tea, 
 coffee, chocolate, brandy, wines, cambrics, Brussels laces, 
 French silks, and all kinds of India goods), 20, 30, and in 
 some articles 50 per cent, cheaper than they could be had 
 in the more interior parts, of traders that paid duty. The 
 other honest gentleman allowed this to be an advantage, 
 but insisted, that the seller, in the advanced price he de 
 manded on that account, rated the advantage much above 1 
 its value. And neither of them seemed to think dealing 
 with smugglers a practice that an honest man (provided he 
 
SMUGGLING. 335 
 
 got his goods cheap) had the least reason to be asham 
 ed of. 
 
 At a time when the load of our public debt, and the 
 heavy expense of maintaining our fleets and armies to be 
 ready for our defence on occasion, makes it necessary, not 
 only to continue old taxes, but often to look out for new 
 ones, perhaps it may not be unuseful to state this matter in 
 a light that few seem to have considered it in. 
 
 The people of Great Britain, under the happy constitu 
 tion of this country, have a privilege few other countries 
 enjoy, that of choosing the third branch of the legislature, 
 which branch has alone the power of regulating their 
 taxes. Now whenever the government finds it necessary 
 for the common benefit, advantage, and safety of the na 
 tion, for the security of our liberties, property, religion, and 
 every thing that is dear to us, that certain sums shall be 
 yearly raised by taxes, duties, &c. and paid into the public 
 treasury, thence to be dispensed by government for those 
 purposes ; ought not every honest man freely and willingly 
 to pay his just proportion of this necessary expense ? Can 
 he possibly preserve a right to that character, if, by any 
 fraud, stratagem, or contrivance, he avoids that payment 
 in whole or in part. 
 
 What should we think of a companion, who, having 
 supped with his friends at a tavern, and partaking 
 equally of the joys of the evening with the rest of us, would 
 nevertheless contrive by some artifice to shift his share of 
 the reckoning upon others, in order to go off scot-free? 
 If a man who practised this would, when detected^ be 
 deemed and called a scoundrel, what ought he to be called 
 who can enjoy all the inestimable benefits of public society, 
 and yet by smuggling, or dealing with smugglers, contrive 
 to evade paying his just share of the expense, as settled 
 by his own representatives in parliament ; and wrongfully 
 throw it upon his honester and perhaps much poorer 
 
836 SMUGGLING. 
 
 neighbours ? He will perhaps be ready to tell me, that he 
 does not wrong his neighbours ; he scorns the imputation, 
 he only cheats the king a little, who is very able to bear it. 
 This, however, is a mistake. The public treasure is the 
 treasure of the nation, to be applied to national purposes. 
 And when a duty is laid for a particular public and neces 
 sary purpose, if, through smuggling, that duty falls short of 
 raising the sum required, and other duties must therefore 
 be laid to make up the deficiency, all the additional sum 
 laid by the new duties, and paid by other people, though it 
 should amount to no more than a half-penny or a farthing 
 per head, is so much actually picked out of the pockets of 
 those other people by the smugglers and their abettors and 
 encouragers. Are they then any better or other than 
 pickpockets? and what mean, low, rascally pickpockets 
 must those be, that can pick pockets for halfpence and 
 for farthings I 
 
 "I would not however be supposed to allow in what I 
 have just said, that cheating the king is a less offence 
 against honesty, than cheating the public. The king and 
 the public in this case are different names for the same 
 thing: but if we consider the king distinctly, it will not 
 lessen the crime : it is no justification of a robbery, that 
 the person robbed was rich and able to bear it. The king 
 has as much right to justice as the meanest of his subjects; 
 and as be is truly the common father of his people, those 
 that rob him fall under the scripture woe, pronounced 
 against the son that robbeth his father, and saith it is no sin. 
 Mean as this practice is, do we not daily see people of 
 character and fortune engaged in it for trifling advantages 
 to themselves? Is any lady ashamed to request of a gen 
 tleman of her acquaintance, that when he returns from 
 abroad, he would smuggle her home apiece of silk or lace 
 from France or Flanders ? Is any gentleman ashamed to 
 yndertake and execute the commission ? Not iu the least. 
 
SMUGGLING. 337 
 
 They will talk of it freely, even before others whose pockets 
 they are contriving to pick by this piece of knavery. 
 
 Among other branches of the revenue, that of the post- 
 office is, by a late law, appropriated to the discharge of 
 our public debt, to defray the expenses of the state. None 
 but members of parliament, and a few public offices, have 
 now a right to avoid, by a frank, the payment of postage. 
 When any letter, not written by them or on their business, 
 is franked by any of them, it is a hurt to the revenue, an 
 injury which they must now take the pains to conceal by 
 writing the whole superscription themselves. And yet 
 such is our insensibility to justice in this particular, that 
 nothing is more common than to see, even in a reputable 
 company, a very honest gentleman or lady declare his or 
 Ler intention to cheat the nation of threepence by a frank, 
 and without blushing apply to one of the very legislators 
 themselves, with a modest request, that he would be pleased 
 to become an accomplice in the crime, and assist in the 
 perpetration. 
 
 There are those who by these practices take a great deal 
 in a year out of the public purse, and put the money into 
 their own private pockets. If, passing through a room 
 where public treasure is deposited, a man takes the oppor 
 tunity of clandestinely pocketing and carrying off a guinea, 
 is he not truly and properly a thief? And if another evades 
 paying into the treasury a guinea he ought to pay in, and 
 applies it to his own use, when he knows it belongs to the 
 public as much as that which has been paid in, what dif 
 ference is there in the nature of the crime, or the baseness 
 of committing it? 
 
 Some laws make the receiving of stolen goods equally 
 penal with stealing, and upon this principle, that if there 
 were no receivers there would be few thieves. Our pro 
 verb too says truly, that the receiver is as bad as the thief. 
 By the same reasoning, as there would be few smugglers, 
 
338 OBSERVATIONS ON WAR, 
 
 if there were none who knowingly " encouraged, them by 
 buying their goods, we may say, that the encouragers of 
 smuggling are as bad as the smugglers ; and that as smug 
 glers are a kind of thieves, both equally deserve the pu 
 nishments of thievery. 
 
 In this view of wronging the revenue, what must we 
 think of those who can e^ade paying for their wheels and 
 their plate, in defiance of law and justice, and yet declaim 
 against corruption and peculation, as if their own hands 
 and hearts were pure and unsullied ? The Americans offend 
 us grievously, when, contrary to our laws, they smuggle 
 g oods into their own country; and yet they had no hand in 
 making those laws* I do not,, however, pretend from 
 thence to justify them. But I think the offence much 
 greater in those who either directly or indirectly have been 
 concerned in making the very laws they break. And when. 
 I hear them exclaiming against the Americans, and for 
 every little infringement of the acts of trade, or obstruc 
 tion given by a petty mob to an officer of or customs it* 
 that country, calling for vengeance against the whole peo 
 ple as REBELS and traitors, I cannot help thinking there 
 are still those in the world who can see a mote in their bro~ 
 ther s eye, while they do not discern a beam in their own ; 
 and that the old saying is as true now as ever it was, one 
 man may better steal a horse, than another laok over tht 
 hedge. 
 
 F.B, 
 
 Observations on War. 
 
 By the original law of nations, war and extirpation wer 
 the punishment of injury. Humanizing by degrees, it ad 
 mitted slavery instead of death : a farther step was the- ex 
 change of prisoners instead of slavery : another, to respect 
 
OBSERVATIONS ON WAR. 839 
 
 wore the property of private persons under conquest, and 
 be content with acquired dominion. Why should not this 
 law of nations go on improving ? Ages have intervened 
 between its several steps : but as knowledge of late in 
 creases rapidly, why should not those steps be quickened? 
 Why should it not be agreed to, as the future law of na 
 tions, that in any war hereafter, the following description of 
 men should be undisturbed, have the protection of both 
 ides, and be permitted to follow their employments in se 
 curity? 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 accom 
 modate 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 ene 
 mies should be unmolested they outght to be assistedi 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. 
 
 The practice of robbing merchants on the high seas a 
 remnant of the ancient piracy though it may be acciden 
 tally beneficial to particular persons, is far from being pro 
 fitable to all engaged in it, or to the nation that authorises 
 it. In the beginning of a war, some rich ships are sur 
 prised 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 care 
 ful, arm their merchant ships better, and render them not 
 ft? easy to be taken : they go also more under the prote*- 
 
 z 2 
 
V. 
 
 040 SLAVE TRADE. 
 
 tion of convoys. Thus, while the privateers to take then* 
 are multiplied, 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 during 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 got in riot, drunken 
 ness, and debauchery, lose their habits of industry, are 
 rarely fit for any sober business after a peace, and serve 
 only to increase the number of highwaymen and house 
 breakers. Even the undertakers, who have been fortu 
 nate, 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 their 
 having wantonly and unfeelingly ruined many honest inno 
 cent traders and their families, whose substance was em 
 ployed in serving the common interest of mankind. 
 
 On the Slave Trade. 
 
 Reading in the newspapers the speech of Mr. Jackson 
 hi congress, against meddling with the affair of slavery, or 
 attempting to mend the condition of slaves, it put me in 
 mind of a similar speech, made about one hundred years 
 since, by Sidi Mehemet Ibrahim, a member of the divan of 
 Algiers, which may be seen in Martin s account of his con 
 sulship, 1687. It was against granting the petition of the 
 sect called Erika, or Purists, who prayed for the abolition 
 of piracy and slavery, as being unjust. Mr. Jackson does 
 
SL4VE TRADE. 341 
 
 not quote it; perhaps he has not seen it. If, therefore, 
 some of its reasonings are to be found in his eloquent 
 speech, it may only show, that men s interests operate, and 
 are operated on, with surprising similarity, in all countries 
 and ; climates, whenever they are under similar circum 
 stances. The African speech, as translated, is as follows: 
 
 41 Alia Bismillah, &c. God is great, and Mahomet is his 
 prophet. 
 
 " Have these Erika considered the consequences of 
 granting their petition ? If we cease our cruises against 
 the Christians, how shall we be furnished with the commo 
 dities their countries produce, and which are so necessary 
 lor 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 fa 
 milies ? Must we not then be our own slaves ? And is 
 there not more compassion and more favour 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 dimi 
 nish, and be gradually annihilated. If then, we cease 
 taking and plundering the infidel ships, and making slaves 
 of the seamen and passengers, our lands will become of no 
 value, for want of cultivation ; the rents of houses in the 
 city will sink one half; and the revenues of government, 
 arising from the share of prizes, must be totally destroyed. 
 And for what? To gratify the whim of a whimsical sect, 
 who would have us not only forbear making more slaves, 
 but even manumit those we have. But who is to indem 
 nify their masters for the loss ? Wil] the state do it 1 Is 
 our treasury sufficient? Will the Erika do it? Can they 
 do it ? Or would they, to do what they think justice to the 
 slaves, do a greater injustice to the owners? And if we 
 set our slaves free, what is to be done with them? Few of 
 them will return to their native countries ; they know too 
 
312 SLAVE TRADE. 
 
 the greater hardships they must there be subject to, 
 They will not embrace our holy religion: they will not 
 adopt our manners : our people will not pollute themselves 
 by intermarrying with them. Must me maintain them as 
 beggars in our streets? or suffer our properties to be the 
 prey of their pillage? for men accustomed to slavery will 
 not work tor a livelihood, when not compelled. And what 
 is there so pitiable in their present condition? Were 
 they not slaves in their own countries! Are not Spain, 
 Portugal, France, and the Italian states, governed by 
 despots, who hold all their subjects in slavery, without ex 
 ception ? Even England treats her sailors as slaves, for 
 they are, whenever 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 better 
 than our slaves are allowed by us. Is their condition then 
 made worse by their falling into our hands? no: they have 
 only exchanged one slavery for another; and I may say 
 a better: for here they are brought into a land where the 
 sun of Jslanism gives forth its light, and shines in full 
 splendour, and they have an opportunity of making them 
 selves acquainted with the true doctrine, and thereby saving" 
 their immortal souls. Those who remain at home have not 
 that happiness. Sending the slaves home, then, would bt 
 sending them out of light into darkness. 
 
 I repeat the question, what is to be done with them ? 
 I have heard it suggested, that they may be planted in the 
 ^wilderness, where there is plenty of land for them to subsist 
 on, and where they may flourish as a free state. But they 
 are, I doubt, too little disposed to labour without compul 
 sion, as well as too ignoiant 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 are treated with 
 humanity. The labourers in their own countries are, as I 
 
SLAVE TRADE, 343 
 
 srni informed, worse .fed, lodged, and clothed. The condi 
 tion of most of them is therefore already mended, and re 
 quires no farther improvement Here their lives are hi 
 safety. They are not liable to be impressed for soldiers, 
 and forced to cut one another s Christian 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 humanity, that moved them to the action : it was 
 from the conscious burden 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 
 imagining 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 inftdels be in that sacred book 
 forbidden ; since it is well known from it, that God has 
 given the world, and all that it contains, to his faithful 
 Mussulmen, who are to enjoy it, of right, as fast as they 
 can conquer it Let us then hear no more of this detest 
 able proposition, the manumission of Christian slaves, the 
 adoption of which would, by depreciating our lands and 
 houses, and thereby depriving so many good citizens of 
 their properties, create universal discontent, and provoke 
 insurrections, to the endangering of government, and pro 
 ducing general confusion. I have, therefore, no doubt 
 that this wise council will prefer tlte comfort and happiness 
 of a whole nation of true believers, to the whim of a few 
 Erika, aHd 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 cen* 
 linue the practice is clear; therefore, let the petition be 
 
344 FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. 
 
 rejected." And it was rejected accordingly. And since 
 like motives are apt to produce, in the minds of men, like 
 opinions and resolutions, may we not venture to predict, 
 from this account, that the petitions to the parliament of 
 England for abolishing the slave-trade, to say nothing of 
 other legislatures, and the debates upon them, will have a 
 similar conclusion, 
 
 HISTORICUS; 
 - March 23, 1790. 
 
 Account of the highest Court of Judicature in Pennsyl* 
 yama, viz. The Court of the Press. 
 
 Power of this Court, 
 
 It may receive and promulgate accusations of all kinds, 
 against all persons and characters, among the citizens of 
 the state, and even against all inferior courts ; and may 
 judge, sentence, and condemn to infamy, not only private 
 individuals, but public bodies, &c. with or without inquiry 
 or hearing, at the court s discretion. 
 
 Whose Favour, or for whose Emolument this Court is 
 Established. 
 
 Jn favour of about one citizen in five hundred, who, by 
 education, or practice in scribbling, has acquired a tole 
 rable style as to grammar and construction, so as to bear 
 printing; or who is possessed of a press and a few types. 
 This five hundredth part of the citizens have the privilege 
 of accusing and abusing the other four hundred and ninety* 
 nine parts, at their pleasure; or they may hire out their 
 pens and press to others, for that purpose. 
 
FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. 345 
 
 Practice of this Court. 
 
 It is not governed by any of the rules of the common 
 courts of law. The accused is allowed no grand jury to 
 judge of the truth of the accusation before it is publicly 
 made ; nor is the name of the accuser made known to him ; 
 nor has he an opportunity of confronting the witnesses 
 against him, for they are kept in the dark, as in the Spanish 
 court of inquisition. Nor is there any petty jury of his peers 
 sworn to try the truth of the charges. The proceedings 
 are also sometimes so rapid, that an honest good citizen 
 may find himself suddenly arid unexpectedly accused, and 
 in the same morning judged and condemned, and sentence 
 pronounced against him, that he is a rogue and a villain. 
 Yet if an officer of this court receives the slightest check 
 for misconduct in this his office, he claims immediately the 
 rights of a free citizen by the constitution, and demands to 
 know his accuser, to confront the witnesses, and to have a 
 lair trial by a jury of his peers. o,*:- 
 
 
 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 a li 
 berty which every Pennsylvanian would fight and die for, 
 though few of us, I believe, have distinct ideas of its na 
 ture 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, calumniating, and defaming one another, I, for 
 my part, own myself willing to part with my share of it, 
 Whenever our legislators shall please so to alter the law , 
 
346 FREEDOM OF THE PRESS* 
 
 and shall cheerfully consent to exchange my liberty of 
 abusing- others, for the privilege of not being abused my 
 self. 
 
 By whom this Court is Commissioned or Constituted* 
 
 It is not by any commission from the supreme executive 
 council, who might previously judge of the abilities, inte 
 grity, knowledge, &c. of the persons to be appointed to 
 this great trust, of deciding upon the characters and good 
 iame of the citizens : for this court is above that council, 
 and may accuse, judge, and condemn it at pleasure. Nor is 
 it hereditary, 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 black 
 ing balls, may commissionate himself, and his court is im 
 mediately established in the plenary possession and exer- 
 eise of its rights. For if you make the least complaint of 
 the judge s conduct, he daubs his blacking balls in your 
 lace wherever he meets you : and besides tearing your pri 
 vate character to splinters, marks 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 improved 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 
 neighbour, will feel a pleasure in the reverse. And of those 
 who, despairing to rise to distinction by their virtues, are 
 
FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. 847 
 
 happy if others can be depressed to a level with themselves, 
 there are a number sufficient in every great town to main 
 tain one of these courts by their subscription. A shrewd 
 observer once said, that in walking- the streets of a slip 
 pery morning, one might see where the good-natured peo 
 ple lived, by the ashes thrown on the ice before the doors: 
 probably he would have formed a different conjecture of 
 the temper of those whom he might find engaged in such 
 subscriptions. 
 
 Of the Checks proper to be Established against the Abuses 
 of Power in those Courts. 
 
 Hitherto there are none. But since so much has been 
 written and published on the federal constitution ; and the 
 necessity *of checks, in all other parts of good government, 
 has been so clearly and learnedly explained, I find myself 
 so far enlightened as to suspect some check may be pro 
 per in this part also : but I have been at a loss to imagine 
 any that may not be construed an infringement of the sa* 
 cred liberty of the press. At length, however, I think 1 
 have found one, that, instead of diminishing general li 
 berty, shall augment it; which is, by restoring to the peo* 
 pie a species of liberty of which they have been deprived 
 by our laws, I mean the liberty of the cudgel ! In the 
 rude state of society, prior to the existence of laws, if one 
 man gave another ill-language, the affronted person might 
 return it by a box on the ear ; and if repeated, by a good 
 drubbing ; and this without offending against any law : but 
 now the right of making such returns is denied, and they 
 are punished as breaches of the peace, while the right of 
 abusing seems to remain in full force; the laws made 
 against it being rendered ineffectual by the liberty of the 
 press. 
 
 My proposal then is, to leave the liberty of the press un 
 touched, to be exercised in its full extent, force, and vi 
 
348 ADDRESS FOR 
 
 g-our, but to permit the liberty of the cudgel to go with it, 
 paripassu. Thus, my fellow citizens, if an impudent 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 be 
 hind the printer, and you can nevertheless discover who 
 he is, you may, in like manner, way-lay him in the night, 
 attack him behind, and give him a good drubbing. If 
 your adversary hires better writers than himself to abuse 
 you more effectually, you may hire brawny porters, stronger 
 than yourself, to assist you in giving him a more effectual 
 drubbing. Thus far goes my project, as to private resent- 
 jnent and retribution. But if the public should ever happen 
 to be affronted, as it ought to be, with the conduct of such 
 writers, I would not advise proceeding immediately to these 
 extremities, but that we should in moderation content our 
 selves with tarring and feathering, and tossing them in a 
 blanket* 
 
 If, however, it should be thought, that this proposal of 
 mine may disturb the public peace, I would then humbly 
 recommend to our legislators to take up the consideration 
 of both liberties, that of the press and that of the cudgel; 
 and by an explicit law mark their extent and limits : and 
 at the same time that they secure the person of a citizen 
 from assaults, they would likewise provide for the security 
 of his reputation. 
 
 An Address to iJie" Public, from the Pennsylvania So 
 ciety for promoting the Abolition of Slavery, and the 
 
 Relief of free Negroes, unlawfully held in Bondage. 
 
 i 
 
 It is with peculiar satisfaction we assure the friends of 
 humanity, that, in prosecuting the design of our associa*- 
 
ABOLISHING SLAVERY. 349 
 
 tion, our endeavours have proved successful, far beyond 
 our most sanguine expectations. 
 
 Encouraged by this success, and by the daily progress of 
 that luminous and benign spirit of liberty, which is diffusing 1 
 itself throughout the world, and humbly hoping for tho 
 continuance of the divine blessing on our labours, we have 
 ventured to make an important addition to our original 
 plan, and do, therefore, earnestly solicit the support and 
 assistance of all who can feel the tender emotions of sym 
 pathy and compassion, or relish the exalted pleasure of be 
 neficence. 
 
 Slavery is such an atrocious debasement of human na 
 ture, that its very extirpation, if not performed with soli 
 citous care, may sometimes open a source of serious evils. 
 
 The unhappy man, who has long been treated as a brute 
 animal, too frequently sinks beneath the common standard 
 of the human species. The galling chains, that bind his 
 bady, do also fetter his intellectual faculties, and impair 
 the social affections of his heart. Accustomed to move 
 like a mere machine, by the will of a master, reflection is 
 suspended ; he has not the power of choice ; and reason 
 and conscience have but little influence over his conduct, 
 because he is chiefly governed by the passion of fear. He 
 is poor and friendless perhaps worn out by extreme la 
 bour, age, and disease. 
 
 Under such circumstances, freedom may often prove a 
 misfortune to himself, and prejudicial to society. 
 
 Attention to emancipated black people, it is therefore 
 tQ. Ue hoped, will become a branch of our national police ; 
 but as far as we contribute to promote this emancipation, 
 so far that attention is evidently a serious duty incumbent 
 on us, aod which we mean to discharge to the best of our 
 judgment and abilities. 
 
 To instruct, to advise, to qualify those who have been 
 restored to freedom, for the exercise and enjoyment of 
 
350 PLAN FOR IMPROVING THE 
 
 civil liberty, to promote in them habits of industry, to fur^ 
 nish them with employments suited to their age, sex, ta 
 lents, and other circumstances, and to procure their chil 
 dren an education calculated for their future situation ia 
 life ; these are the great outlines of the annexed plan, 
 which we have adopted, and which we conceive will essen 
 tially promote the public good, and the happiness of these 
 our hitherto too much neglected fellow-creatures. 
 
 A plan so extensive, cannot be carried into executfoi* 
 without considerable pecuniary resources, beyond th* 
 present ordinary funds of the society. We hope much 
 from the generosity of enlightened and benevolent freemen, 
 and will gratefully receive any donations or subscriptions 
 for this purpose, which may be made to our treasurer, 
 James Starr, or to James Pemberton, chairman of our 
 committee of correspondence. Signed by order of the 
 society, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN, President. 
 Philadelphia, 9th of November, 1789. 
 
 Plan for Improving the Condition of the Free Slaves. 
 
 The business relative to free blacks shall be transacted 
 by a committee of twenty-four persons, annually elected 
 by ballot, at the meeting of this society, in the month 
 called April ; and in order to perform the different services 
 with expedition, regularity, and energy, this committee 
 shall resolve itself into the following sub-committees, viz. 
 
 I. A committee of inspection, who shall superintend the 
 morals, general conduct, and ordinary situation of the, free 
 negroes, and afford them advice and instruction, protection 
 from wrongs, and other friendly offices. 
 
 II, A committee of guardians who shall place out cbil- 
 
CONDITION OF FREE BLACKS. 
 
 dren and young- people with suitable persons, that they 
 may (during a moderate time of apprenticeship, or servi 
 tude) learn some trade or other business of subsistence. 
 The committee may effect this partly by a persuasive in 
 fluence on parents and the persons concerned ; and partly 
 by co-operating- with the laws, which are, or may be enacted 
 for this, and similar purposes : in forming contracts on these 
 occasions, the committee shall secure to the society, as far 
 as may be practicable, the right of guardianship over the 
 persons so bound. 
 
 III. A committee of education, who shall superintend 
 the school-instruction of the children and youth of the 
 free blacks; they may either influence them to attend re 
 gularly the schools, already established in this city, or formt 
 others with this view ; they shall, in either case, provide, 
 that the pupils may receive such learning, as is necessary 
 for their future situation in life ; and especially a deep im 
 pression of the most important, and generally acknowledged 
 moral and religious principles. They shall also procure 
 and preserve a regular record of the marriages, births, and 
 manumissions of all free blacks. $ 
 
 IV. A committee of employ, who shall endeavour to 
 procure constant employment for those free negroes who 
 are able to work : as the want of this would occasion po 
 verty, idleness, and many vicious habits. This committee 
 will, be sedulous inquiry, be enabled to find common la 
 bour for a great number; they will also provide, that such 
 as indicate proper talents may learn various trades, which 
 may be done by prevailing upon them to bind themselves 
 for such a term of years, as shall compensate their masters 
 for the expense and trouble of instruction and maintenance. 
 The committee may attempt the institution of some useful 
 and simple manufactures, which require but little skill, and 
 also may assist, in commencing business, such as appear to 
 be qualified for it. 
 
852 PAPER: A POEM. 
 
 Whenever the committee of inspection shall find per-* 
 sons of any particular description requiring attention, they 
 shall immediately direct them to the committee, of whose 
 care they are the proper objects. 
 
 In matters of a mixed nature, the committees shall con 
 fer, and, if necessary, act in concert. Affairs of great im 
 portance shall be referred to the whole committee. 
 
 The expense, incurred by the prosecution of this plan, 
 shall be defrayed by a fund, to be formed by donations, or 
 subscriptions, for these particular purposes, and to be kept 
 separate from the other funds of this society. 
 
 The committee shall make a report of their proceed 
 ings, and of the state of their stock to the society, at 
 their quarterly meetings, jn the months called April and 
 October. 
 
 Philadelphia, 26th October, 1789. 
 
 Paper : a Poem* 
 
 Some wit of old such v*its of old there were 
 Whose hints show d meaning, whose allusions care 
 By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, 
 Call d clear blank paper ev ry infant mind ; 
 When still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, 
 Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot. 
 
 The thought was happy, pertinent and true; 
 Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. 
 I (can you pardon my presumption), I - 
 No wit, no genius, yet for once will try. 
 
 Various the papers various wants produce, 
 The wants of fashion, elegance, and use. 
 Men are as various : and, if right I scan, 
 Each sort of paper represents some man. 
 
 Pray note the fop half powder and half lace- 
 Nice as a bandbox were his dwelling-place : 
 He s the gilt paper, which apart you store, 
 And lock from vulgar hands, in the scrutoire. 
 
PAPER : A POEM. 858 
 
 Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, 
 Are copy-paper, of inferior worth ; 
 Less priz d, more useful, for your desk decreed, 
 Free to all pens, and prompt at ev ry need. 
 
 The wretch, whom av ricc bids to pinch and spare, 
 Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, 
 Is coarse broicn paper ; such as pedlars choose 
 To wrap up w ares, which better men will use. 
 
 Take next the miser s contrast, who destroys 
 Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. 
 Will any paper match him ? Yes, throughout, 
 He s a true sinking paper, past all doubt. 
 
 1 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 weaknefe to proclaim. 
 
 While such a thing as fools-cap lias 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 your poets, take them as they fall, 
 Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all ? 
 Them and their works in the same elass you ll find : 
 They are the mere waste-paper of mankind. 
 
 Observe the maiden, innocently sweet, 
 She s fair white-paper, an rnsullied 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 ail the kinds most precious, purest, best. J, 
 
PLAIN TRUTH, 
 
 Plain Truth; or serious Considerations on the Preset^ 
 State of the City of Philadelphia, and Province oj 
 
 vania. 
 
 BY A TRADESMAN OF PHILADELPHIA .* 
 
 It is said, the wise Italians make this proverbial remark 
 <on our nation, viz. The English feel, but they do not see. 
 That is, they are sensible of inconveniences when they are 
 present, but do not take sufficient care to prevent them : 
 their natural courage makes them too little apprehensive of 
 danger, so that they are often surprised by it, unprovided 
 of the proper means of security. When it is too late, 
 they are sensible of their imprudence : after great fires, 
 they provide buckets and engines : after a pestilence, they 
 think of keeping elean their streets and common sewers .: 
 and when a town has been sacked by their enemies, they 
 provide for its defence, &c. This kind of after-wisdom is 
 indeed so common with us, as to occasion the vulgar, though 
 very significant saying, When the steed is stolen, you shut 
 the stable door. 
 
 But the more insensible we generally are of public dan 
 ger and indifferent when warned of it, so much the more 
 freely, openly, and earnestly, ought such as apprehend it to 
 
 * " In 1744, a Spanish privateer, having 1 entered the Bay 
 of Delaware, ascended as high as Newcastle, to the great 
 terror of the citizens of Philadelphia. On this occasion 
 Franklin wrote his first political pamphlet called Plain Truth, 
 to exhort his fellow citizens to the bearing of arms ; which laid 
 the foundation of those military associations, which followed, 
 at different times, for the defence of the country . ^ 
 
PLAIN TfctTH. 
 
 speak their sentiments : that, if possible, those who seem to 
 sleep may be awakened, to think of some means of avoiding 
 or preventing* the mischief, before it be too late. 
 
 Believing-, therefore, that it is my duty, I shall honestly 
 speak my mind in the following- paper. 
 
 War at this time rages over a great part of the known 
 world : our newspapers are weekly filled with fresh accounts 
 of the destruction it every where occasions* Pennsylvania, 
 indeed, situate in the centre of the colonies, has hitherto 
 enjoyed profound repose ; and though our nation is en 
 gaged in a bloody war with two great and powerful king 
 doms, yet, defended in a great degree from the French, on 
 the one hand, by the northern provinces, and from the Spa 
 niards, on the other, by the southern, at no small expense 
 to each, our people have, till lately, slept securely in their 
 habitations. 
 
 There is no British colony excepting this but has made 
 some kind of provision for its defence ; many of them 
 have therefore never been attempted by an enemy ; and 
 others, that were attacked, have generally defended 
 themselves with success. .The length and difficulty of our 
 bay and river have been thought so effectual a security to 
 us, that hitherto no means have been entered into, that 
 might discourage an attempt upon us, or prevent its suc 
 ceeding. 
 
 But whatever security this might have been while both 
 country and city were poor, and the advantage to be ex 
 pected scarce worth the hazard of an attempt, it is now 
 doubted, whether we can any longer safely depend upon it* 
 Our wealth, of late years much increased, is one strong 
 temptation, our defenceless state another, to induce an 
 enemy to attack us; while the acquaintance they have 
 lately gained with our bay and river, by means of the pri 
 soners and flags of truce they have had among us ; by spies 
 which they almost every where maintain, and perhaps 
 2 A 2 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 
 
 traitors among- ourselves, with the facility of getting pilots 
 to conduct them ; and the known absence of ships of war, 
 during the greatest part of the year, from both Virginia 
 and New York, ever since the war began, render the ap 
 pearance of success to the enemy far more promising, and 
 therefore highly increase our danger. 
 
 That our enemies may have spies abroad, and some 
 even in these colonies, will not be made much doubt of, 
 when it is considered, that such has been the practice of 
 all nations in all ages, whenever they were engaged, or in 
 tended to engage in war, Of this we have an early ex 
 ample in the book of Judges (too pertinent to our case r 
 and therefore I must beg leave a little to enlarge upon it) 
 where we are told, chap, xviii. v. 2. That the Children of 
 Dan sent of their family five men from their coasts to spie 
 out the land, and search it, saying, Go, search the land, 
 These Danites, it seems, were at this time not very ortho 
 dox in their religion, and their spies met with a certain 
 idolatrous priest of their own persuasion, v. 3, and they 
 said to him, Who brought thee hither? What makest 
 thou in this place ? And what hast thou here ? [Would 
 to God no such priests were to be found among us.] And 
 they said unto him, v. 5. Ash counsel of God, that we may 
 know, whether our way which we go shall be prosperous : 
 ind the priest said unto them, Go in peace: before the 
 Lord is your way wherein you go. [Are there no priests 
 among us, think you, that might, in the like case, give an 
 enemy as good encouragement ? It is well known, that we 
 have numbers of the same religion with those, who of late 
 encouraged the French to invade our mother-country.] 
 And they came, verse 7, to Laish, and saw the people 
 that were therein, how they dwelt CARELESS, after the 
 manner of the Zidonians, C>UIET and SECURE. They 
 thought themselves secure, no doubt; and as they never 
 had been disturbed, vainly thought they never should. It 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 
 
 is not unlikely, that some might see the danger they were 
 exposed to by living in that careless manner: but that, it 
 jhese publicly expressed their apprehensions, the rest re 
 proached them as timorous persons, wanting courage or 
 confidence in their gods, who (they might say) had hitherto 
 protected them. But the spies, verse 8, returned, and 
 said to their countrymen, verse 9, Arise, that we may go 
 up against them : for we hare seen the land, and behold it 
 is very good ! And are ye still ? Be not slothful to go. 
 Verse 10, when ye go, ye shall come to a people SECURE ; 
 [that is, a people that apprehend no danger, and therefore 
 have made no provision against it; great encouragement 
 this !] and to a large land, and a place where there is no 
 want of any thing. What could they desire more ? Ac 
 cordingly we find, in the following verses, that six hun 
 dred men only, appointed with weapons of war, undertook 
 the conquest of this large land: knowing that GOO men, 
 armed and disciplined, would be an over-match perhaps 
 for 60,000, unarmed, undisciplined, and off their guard. 
 And when they went against it, the idolatrous priest, 
 verse 17, with his graven image and his ephod, and his 
 seraphim and his molten image [plenty of superstitious 
 trinkets], joined with them, and, no doubt, gave them all 
 the intelligence and assistance in his power; his heart, as 
 the text assures us, being glad, perhaps for reasons more 
 than one. And now, what was the fate of poor Laish! 
 The GOO men being arrived, found as the spies had re 
 ported, a people QUIET and SECURE, verse 20, 21, And 
 they smote them with the edge of the sword, and burnt the 
 city with FIRE ; and there was no DELIVERER, because it 
 was far from Zidon. Not so far from Zidon, however, as 
 Pennsylvania is from Britain ; and yet we are, if possible, 
 more careless than the people of Laish ! As the scriptures 
 are given for our reproof, instruction, and warning, may W6 
 make a due use of tills example, before it be too late 2 
 
358 PLAIN TRUTH. 
 
 And is our country, any more than our city, altogether 
 free from danger ? Perhaps not. We have, it is true, 
 Lad a long peace \vith the Indians : but it is a long peace, 
 indeed, as well as a long laue, that has no ending. The 
 French know the power and importance of tlie Six Na 
 tions, and spare no artifice, pains, or expense, to gain them 
 to their interest. By their priests they have converted 
 many to their religion, und these * have openly espoused 
 their cause. The rest appttar irresolute what part to take ; 
 t\o persuasions, though eniorced with costly presents, hav 
 ing yet been able to engage them generally on our side 
 though we had numerous forces on their borders, ready 
 to second and support them. What then may be ex 
 pected, now those forces are, by orders from the crown, to 
 be disbanded, when our boasted expedition is laid aside, 
 through want (as it may appear to them) either of strength 
 or courage ; when they see, that the French and their In 
 dians, boldly, and with impunity, ravage the frontiers of 
 New York, and scalp the inhabitants; when those few 
 Indians, that engaged with us against the French, are left 
 exposed to their resentment : when they consider these 
 things, is there no danger that, through disgust at our 
 usage, joined with tear of the French power, and greater 
 confidence in their promises and protection than in our s, 
 they may be wholly gained over by our enemies, and join 
 in the war against us? If such should be the case, which 
 God forbid, how soon may the mischief spread to our 
 frontier countries ? And what may we expect to be the 
 consequence, but desertion of plantations, ruin, bloodshed, 
 and confusion! 
 
 Perhaps some in the city, towns, and plantations near 
 the river, may say to themselves, " An Indian war on the 
 
 * The praying Indians. 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 359 
 
 frontiers will not affect us; the enemy will never come 
 near our habitations; let those concerned take^carc of 
 themselves." And others who live in the country, when 
 they are told of the danger the city is in, from attempts by 
 sea, may say, " What is that to us ? The enemy will be 
 satisfied with the plunder of the town, and never think it 
 worth his while to visit our plantations : let the town take 
 care of itself." These are not mere suppositions, for I 
 have heard some talk in this strange manner. Cut are 
 these the sentiments of true Pennsylvanians, of fellow- 
 countrymen, or even of men, that have common sense -or 
 goodness I Is not the whole province one body, united 
 by living under the same laws, and enjoying the same pri 
 vileges? Are not the people of city and country con 
 nected as relations, both by blood and marriage, and in 
 friendships enually dear? Are they not likewise united in 
 interest, and mutually useful and necessary to each other? 
 When the feet are wounded, shall the head say, It is not 
 me ; I will not trouble myself to contrive relief? Or if the 
 head is in danger, shall the hands say, We are not affected, 
 and therefore will lend no assistance. No. For so would 
 the body be easily destroyed : but when all parts join their 
 endeavours for its security, it is often preserved. And 
 such should be the union between the country and the 
 town ; and such their mutual endeavours for the safety of 
 the whole. When New England, a distant colony, in 
 volved itself in a grievous debt to reduce Cape Breton, we 
 freely gave four thousand pounds for their relief. And at 
 another time, remembering that Great Britain, still more 
 distant, groaned under heavy taxes in supporting the war, 
 we threw in our mite to their assistance, by a free gift of 
 three thousand pounds : and shall country and town join 
 in helping strangers (as those comoaratively are) and yet 
 refuse to assist each other ? 
 But whatever different opinions we have of gur security 
 
360 PLAIN TRUTH. 
 
 in other respects, our TRADE, all seem to agree, is in darf~ 
 ger of being ruined in another year. The great success of 
 our enemies, in two different cruises this last summer in, 
 our bay, must give them the greatest encouragement to 
 repeat more frequently their visits, the profit being almost 
 certain, and the risk next to nothing. Will not the first 
 effect of this be, an enhancing of the price of all foreign 
 goods to the tradesman and farmer, who use or consume 
 them? For the rate of insurance will increase, in pro 
 portion to the hazard of importing them ; and in the same 
 proportion will the price of those goods increase, tf the 
 price of the tradesman s work, and the farmer s produce,, 
 would increase equally with the price of foreign commodi 
 ties, the damage would not be so great: but the direct 
 contrary must happen. For the same hazard or rate of 
 insurance, that raises the price of what is imported, must 
 be deducted out of and lower the price of what is ex 
 ported. Without this addition and deduction, as long as 
 the enemy cruise at our capes, and take those vessels that 
 attempt to go out, as well as those that endeavour to come 
 in, none can afford to trade, and business must be soon at 
 a stand. And will not the consequences be a discourage 
 ment of many of the vessels that used to come from other 
 places to purchase our produce, and thereby a turning of 
 the trade to ports that can be entered with less danger, and 
 capable of furnishing them with the same commodities, as 
 New York, &c. ; a lessening of business to every shop 
 keeper, together with multitudes of bad debts, the high 
 rate of goods discouraging the buyers, and the low rates 
 of their labour and produce, rendering them unable to pay 
 for what they had bought ; loss of employment to the trades 
 man, and bad pay for what little he does ; and lastly, loss 
 qf many inhabitants, who will retire to other provinces not 
 subject to the like inconveniences ; whence a lowering of 
 the vajqe of lands, lots, and houses. 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 361 
 
 The enemy, no doubt, have been told, that the r people 
 of Pennsylvania are Quakers, and against all defence, 
 from a principle of conscience ; this, though true of a part, 
 and that a small part only of the inhabitants, is eommonly 
 said of the whole : and what may make it look probable to 
 strangers is, that in fact, nothing is done by any part of the 
 people towards their defence. But to refuse defending 
 one s self, or one s country, is so unusual a thing among 
 mankind, that possibly they may not believe it, till, by ex 
 perience, they find they can come higher and higher up our 
 river, seize our vessels, land and plunder our plantations 
 and villages, and retire with their booty unmolested. Will 
 not this confirm the report and give them the greatest en 
 couragement to strike one bold stroke for the city, and for 
 the whole plunder of the river? 
 
 It is said by some, that the expense of a vessel to guard 
 our trade, would be very heavy, greater than perhaps all 
 the enemy can be supposed to take from us at sea would 
 amount to, and that it would be cheaper for the govern 
 ment to open an insurance-office, and pay all losses. But 
 is this right reasoning ? 1 think not; for what the enemy 
 takes is clear loss to us, and gain to him ; increasing his 
 riches and strength, as much as it diminishes ours, so 
 making the difference double : whereas the money, paid 
 our own tradesmen for building and fitting out a vessel of 
 defence, remains in the country, and circulates among us ; 
 what is paid to the officers and seamen, that navigate her, 
 is also spent ashore, and soon gets into other hands ; the 
 farmer receives the money for her provisions, and, on the 
 whole, nothing is clearly lost to the country but her wear 
 and tear, or as much as she sells for at the end of the war 
 less than her first cost. This loss, and a trifling one it is, 
 is all the inconvenience; but how many and how great are 
 the conveniences and advantages ! and should the enemy, 
 through our supineness and neglect to provide for the de 
 
PLAIN THUTH. 
 
 fence both of our trade and country, be encouraged to at 
 tempt this city, and after plundering of our goods, either 
 burn it, or put it to ransom, how great would that loss be! 
 besides the confusion, terror, and distress, so many hun 
 dreds of families would be involved in ! 
 
 The thought of this latter circumstance so much affects me, 
 that I cannot forbear expatiating somewhat more upon it. 
 You have, my dear countrymen and fellow-citizens, riches 
 to tempt a considerable force to unite and attack you, but 
 are under no ties or engagements to unite for your de 
 fence. Hence, on the first alarm, terror will spread over 
 all: and as no man can with certainty depend that another 
 will stand by him, beyond doubt very many will seek safety 
 by a speedy flight. Those, that are reputed rich, wili flee, 
 through fear of torture, to make them produce more than 
 they are able. The man that has a wife and children, will 
 find them hanging on his neck, beseeching him with tears 
 to quit the city, and save his life, to guide and protect them 
 in that time of general desolation and ruin. All will run 
 into confusion, amidst cries and lamentations, and the- 
 hurry and disorder of departers, carrying away their effects. 
 The few that remain will be unable to resist. Sacking 
 the city will be the first, and burning it, in all probability, 
 the last act of the enemy. This, I believe, will be the 
 case, if you have timely notice. But what must be your 
 condition, if suddenly surprised, without previous alarm, 
 perhaps in the night ! Confined to your houses, you will 
 have nothing to trust to but the enemy s mercy. Your 
 best fortune will be, to fall under the power of commanders 
 of king s ships, able to controul the mariners : and not 
 into the hands of licentious privateers. Who can, without 
 the utmost horror, conceive the miseries of the latter! 
 when your persons, fortunes, wives, and daughters, shall 
 be subject to the wanton and unbridled rage, rapine, and 
 lust, of negroes, mulattoes, and others, the vilest and most 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 363 
 
 abandoned of mankind.* A dreadful scene ! which some 
 may represent as exaggerated. I think it my duty to warn 
 you: judge for yourselves. 
 
 It is true, with very little notice, the rich may shift for 
 themselves. The means of speedy flight are ready in their 
 hands ; and with some previous care to lodge money and 
 effects in distant and secure places, though they should lose 
 much, yet enough may be left them, and to spare. But 
 most unhappily circumstanced indeed are we, the middling 
 people, the tradesmen, shopkeepers, and farmers of this 
 province and city ! We cannot all fly with our families ; 
 and if we could, how shall we subsist? No; we and they, 
 and what little we have gained by hard labour and in 
 dustry, must bt *r the brunt: the weight of contributions, 
 extorted by the euemy (as it is of taxes among ourselves) 
 must be surely borne by us. Nor can it be avoided, as we 
 stand at present: for though we are numerous, we are 
 quite defenceless, having neither forts, arms, union, nor 
 discipline. And though it were true, that our trade might 
 be protected at no great expense, and our country and 
 our. city easily defended, if proper measures were but 
 taken; yet, who shall take these measures? Who shall 
 
 * By accounts, the ragged crew of the Spanish privateer 
 that plundered Mr. Liston s, and another plantation, a little 
 below Newcastle, was composed of such as these. The 
 honour and humanity of their officers may be judged of, by 
 the treatment they gave the poor Captain Brown, whom they 
 took with Martin s ship in returning from their cruise. Be* 
 cause he bravely defended himself and vessel longer than they 
 expected, for which every generous enemy would have 
 esteemed him, did they, after he had struck and submitted, 
 barbarously stab and murder him, though on his knees beg 
 ging quarter. 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 
 
 pay that expense? On whom may we fix our eyes \vitJi~ 
 the leasfe expectation, that they will do any thing for our 
 security? Should we address that wealthy and powerful 
 body of people, who have ever since the war governed our 
 elections, and filled almost every seat in our assembly ; 
 should we intreat them to consider, if not as friends, at 
 least &s legislators, that protection is as truly due from the 
 government to the people, as obedience from the people to 
 the govfv -ament ; and that if, on account of their religious 
 scruples, they themselves could do no act for our defence, 
 yet they might retire, relinquish their power for a season, 
 quit the helm to freer hands during the present tempest, 
 to hands, chosen by their own interests too, whose pnu, 
 dence and moderation, with regard to them, they might 
 safely confide in; secure, from their own native strength, 
 of resuming again their present station, whenever it shall 
 please them: should we remind them, that the public 
 money, raised from all belongs to all ; that since they 
 have, for their own ease, and to secure themselves in the 
 quiet enjoyment of their religious principles (and may they 
 long enjoy them) expended such large sums to oppose pe 
 titions, and engage favourable representations of their con 
 duct, if they themselves could by no means be free to ap- 
 propriate any part of the public money for our defence; 
 yet it would be no more than justice, to spare us a rea 
 sonable sum for that purpose, which they might easily give 
 to the king s use as heretofore, leaving all the appropria 
 tion to others, who would faithfully apply it as we desired: 
 should we tell them, that though the treasury be at pre 
 sent empty, it may soon be filled by the outstanding public 
 debts collected : or at least credit might be had for such a 
 sum, on a single vote of the assembly : that though they 
 themselves may be resigned and easy under this naked, 
 defenceless state of the country, it is far otherwise with*a 
 very great part of the people ; with us, who can have ns 
 
PLAIN TRtTII. 3G& 
 
 confidence that God will protect those that neglect the usa 
 of rational means for their security ; nor have any reason 
 to hope, that our losses, if we should suffer any, may be 
 made up by collections in our favour at home. Should we 
 conjure them by all the ties of neighbourhood, friendship, 
 justice, and humanity, to consider these things ; and what 
 distraction, misery, and confusion, what desolation and 
 distress may possibly be the effect of their unseasonable 
 predominancy and perseverance : yet all would be in vain ; 
 lor they have already been, by great numbers of the people, 
 petitioned in vain. Our late governor did for years so 
 licit, request, and even threaten them in vain. The coun 
 cil have since twice remonstrated to them in vain. Their 
 religious prepossessions are unchangeable, their obsti 
 nacy invincible. Is there then the least hope remaining-, 
 that from that quarter any thing should arise for our se 
 curity ? 
 
 And is our prospect better, if we turn our eyes to the 
 strength of the opposite party, those great and rich men, 
 merchants and others, who are ever railing at Quakers for 
 doing what their principles seem to require, and what in 
 charity we ought to believe they think their duty, but take 
 no one step themselves for the public safety. They have 
 so much wealth and influence, if they would use it, that 
 they might easily, by their endeavours and example, raise 
 a military spirit among us, make us fond, studious of, and 
 expert in, martial discipline, and effect every tiling that is 
 necessary, under God, for our protection. But envy seems 
 to have taken possession of their hearts, and to have eaten 
 out and destroyed every generous, noble, public-spirited 
 sentiment. -Rage, at the disappointment of their littie 
 schemes for power, gnaws their souls, and fills them with 
 such cordial hatred to their opponents, that every proposal, 
 by the execution of which those may receive benefit as 
 well as themselves, is rejected with indignation. " What," 
 
3<5G PLAIN TRUTH. 
 
 say they, " shall we lay out our money to protect the 
 trade of Quakers? Shall we fight to defend Quakers? 
 "NTo ; let the trade perish, and the city burn ; let what will 
 happen, we shall never lift a finger to prevent it. Yet 
 the Quakers have conscience to plead for their resolution 
 not to fight, which these gentlemen have not. Conscience 
 with you, gentlemen, is on the other side of the question : 
 conscience enjoins it as a duty on you (and indeed I think 
 it such on every man) to defend your country, your friends, 
 your aged parents, your wives, and helpless children : and 
 yet you resolve not to perform this duty, but act contrary 
 to your own consciences, because the Quakers act ac 
 cording to their s. Till of late, I could scarce believe the 
 story of him, who refused to pump in a sinking ship, be 
 cause o,ne on board, whom he hated, would be saved by 
 it as well as himself. But such, it seems, is the unhappi- 
 ness of human nature, that our passions, wlien violent, of 
 ten are too hard for the united force of reason, duty, and 
 religion. 
 
 Thus unfortunately are we circumstanced at this time r 
 my dear countrymen and fellow-citizens ; we, I mean the 
 middling people, the farmers, shop-keepers, and tradesme 
 of this city and country. Through the dissensions of our 
 leaders, through mistaken principles of religion, joined 
 with a love of worldly power, on the one hand; through 
 pride, envy, and implacable resentment on the other; our 
 lives, our families, and little fortunes, dear to us as any 
 great man s can be to him, are to remain continually ex 
 posed to destruction, from an enterprising, cruel, now 
 well-informed, and by success encouraged, enemy. It 
 seems, as if heaven, justly displeased at our growing 
 wickedness, and determined to punish* this once-favoured 
 
 > * When God determined to punish his chosen people, the 
 inhabitants of Jerusalem, who, though breakers of his other 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 3C7 
 
 and, had suffered our chiefs to engage in these foolish and 
 mischievous contentions, for little posts and paltry dis 
 tinctions, that our hands might be bound up, our under 
 standings darkened and misled, and every means of our 
 security neglected. It seems as if our greatest men, our 
 cives nobilissimi* of both parties, had sworn the ruin of 
 the country, and invited the French, our most inveterate 
 enemy, to destroy it. Where, then, shall we seek for suc 
 cour and protection ? The government we are immedi 
 ately under denies it to us ; and if the enemy comes, we 
 Sire far from idon, and there is no deliverer near. Our 
 case is dangerously bad ; but perhaps there is yet a remedy, 
 if we have but the prudence and the spirit to apply it. 
 
 If this new flourishing city, and greatly improving co 
 lony, is destroyed and ruined, it will not be for want of 
 numbers of inhabitants able to bear arms in its defence. 
 It is computed, that we have at least (exclusive of the 
 Quakers) sixty thousand fighting men, acquainted with 
 fire-arms, many of them hunters and marksmen, hardy and 
 bold. All we want is order, discipline, and a few cannon. 
 At present we are like the separate filaments of flax before 
 the thread is formed, without strength, because witkout 
 connection: but UNION would make us strong, and even 
 formidable. Though the great should neither help nor 
 
 laws, were scrupulous observers of that one, which required 
 keeping holy the Sabbath-day ; he suffered even the strict 
 observation of that command to be their ruin : for Pompey, 
 observing that they then obstinately refused to fight, made a 
 general assault on that day, took the town, and butchered 
 them with as little mercy as he found resistance. Josephus. 
 * Conjuravere cives nobilissimi patriam incendere ; Gal- 
 lorum Gentem, infestissimam nomiui Romano, ad bellum ar- 
 eesunt. Cat . in Safest, 
 
368 PLAIN TRUTH, 
 
 join us ; though they should even oppose our uniting, from 
 some mean views of their own, yet, if we resolve upon it, 
 and it please God to inspire us with the necessary pru 
 dence and vigour, it may be effected. Great numbers of 
 our people are of British race, and though the fierce fight 
 ing animals of those happy islands are said to abate their 
 native fire and intrepidity, when removed to a foreign 
 clime, yet with the people it is not so ; our neighbours of 
 New England afford the world a convincing proof, that 
 Britons, though a hundred years transplanted, and to the 
 remotest part of the earth, may yet retain, even to the 
 third and fourth descent, that zeal for the public good, that 
 military prowess, and that undaunted spirit, which has in 
 every age distinguished their nation. What numbers 
 have we likewise of those brave people, whose fathers in 
 the last age made so glorious a stand for our religion and 
 liberties, when invaded by a powerful French army, joined 
 by Irish Catholics, under a bigotted Popish king ! Let 
 the memorable siege of Londonderry, and the signal ac 
 tions of the Inniskillengers, by which the heart of that 
 prince s schemes was broken, be perpetual testimonies of 
 the courage and conduct of those noble warriors ! Nor 
 are there wanting amongst us, thousands of that warlike 
 nation, whose sons have ever since the time of Caesar 
 maintained the character he gave their fathers, of joining 
 the most obstinate courage to all the other military virtues : 
 I mean the brave and steady Germans. Numbers of 
 whom have actually borne arms in the service of their re 
 spective princes ; and if they fought well for their tyrants 
 and oppressors, would they refuse to unite with us in de 
 fence of their newly-acquired and most precious liberty 
 and property? Were this union formed, were we once 
 united, thoroughly armed and disciplined, was every thing 
 in our power done for our security, as far as human 
 foresight could provide, we might then, with more pro- 
 
PLAIN TRUTH. 3G9 
 
 riety, humbly ask the assistance of Heaven, and a bles 
 sing on our lawful endeavours. The very fame of our 
 strength and readiness would be a means of discouraging 
 our enemies; for it is a wise and true saying, that one 
 sword often keeps another in the scabbard. The way to 
 secure peace is to be prepared for war. They that are on 
 their guard, and appear ready to receive their adversaries, 
 are in much less danger of being attacked, than the su 
 pine, secure, and negligent. We have yet a winter before 
 us, which may afford a good and almost sufficient opportu 
 nity for this, if we seize and improve it with a becoming 
 vigour. And if the hints contained in this paper are so 
 happy as to meet with a suitable disposition of mind in his 
 countrymen and fellow-citizens, the writer of it will* in a 
 few days, lay before them a form of an ASSOCIATION for 
 the purposes herein mentioned, together with a practica 
 ble scheme for raising the money necessary for the defence 
 of our trade, city, and country, without laying a burden on 
 any man. 
 
 May the God of wisdom, strength, and power, the Lord 
 vf the armies of Israel, inspire us with prudence in this 
 time of danger, take away from us all the seeds of contention 
 and division, and unite the hearts and counsels of all of us t 
 of whatever sect or nation, in one bond of peace, brotherly 
 love, and generous public spirit ! May he give us strength 
 and resolution to amend our lives> and remove from among 
 us ever?/ thing that is displeasing to him ; afford us his 
 most gracious protection, confound the designs of our 
 enemies, and give peace in all our borders, is the sincere 
 prayer of 
 
 1744. A TRADESMAN of Philadelphia 
 
370 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 The Examination of Dr. Benjamin Franklin before the 
 English House of Commons , in February, 1766, rela 
 tive to the Repeal of the American Stamp Act. 
 
 Q. What is your name, and place of abode ? 
 
 A. Franklin, of Philadelphia. 
 
 Q. Do the Americans pay any considerable taxes among 
 themselves? 
 
 A. Certainly many, and very heavy taxes. 
 
 Q. What are the present taxes in Pennsylvania, laid by 
 the laws of the colony? 
 
 A. There are taxes on all estates real and personal ; a 
 a poll tax ; a tax on all offices, professions, trades, and 
 businesses, according to their profits ; an excise on all wine, 
 rum, and other spirits ; and a duty of ten pounds per head 
 on all negroes imported, \vith some other duties. 
 
 Q. For what purposes are thoses taxes laid ? 
 
 A. For the support of the civil and military establish 
 ments of the country, and to discharge the heavy debt con 
 tracted in the last war. 
 
 Q. How long are those taxes to continue ? 
 
 A. Those for discharging the debt are to continue till 
 1772, and longer, if the debt should not be then all dis 
 charged. The others must always continue. v : 
 
 Q. Was it not expected that the debt would have been 
 sooner discharged ? 
 
 A. It was, when the peace was made with France and 
 Spain. But a fresh war breaking out with the Indians, a 
 fresh load of debt was incurred ; and the taxes, of course, 
 continued longer by a new law. 
 
 Q. Are not all the people very able to pay those taxes ? 
 
 A. No. The frontier counties, all along the continent, 
 been frequently ravaged by the enemy and greatly 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN, sri 
 
 impoverished, are able to pay very little tax. And there 
 fore, in consideration of their distresses, our late tax laws 
 do expressly favour those counties, excusing the suflerers; 
 and I suppose the same is done in other governments. 
 
 Q. Are not you concerned in the management of the 
 Post-office in America ? 
 
 A. Yes. I am deputy post-master general of North 
 America. 
 
 Q. Don t you think the distribution of stamps by post 
 to all the inhabitants very practicable, if there was no op 
 position ? 
 
 A. The posts only go along the sea-coasts ; they do not, 
 except in a few instances, go back into the country ; and 
 if they did, sending for stamps by post would occasion an 
 expense of postage, amounting, in many cases, to much 
 more than that of the stamps themselves. 
 
 Q. Are you acquainted with Newfoundland? 
 
 A. I never was there. 
 
 Q. Do you know whether there are any post-roads on 
 that island ? 
 
 A. I have heard that there are no roads at all, but that 
 the communication between one settlement and another is 
 by sea only. 
 
 Q. Can you disperse the stamps by post in Canada? 
 
 A. There is only a post between Montreal and Quebec^ 
 The inhabitants live so scattered and remote from each 
 other in that vast country, that posts cannot be supported 
 among them, and therefore they cannot get stamps per post. 
 The English colonies too along the frontiers are very thinly 
 settled. 
 
 Q. From the thinness of the back settlements, would 
 not the stamp act be extremely inconvenient to the inha 
 bitants, if executed ? 
 
 A. To be sure it would : as many of the inhabitants 
 could not get stamps when they had occasion for them, 
 
 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANK LIST. 
 
 without taking long journeys, and spending perhaps three 
 or four pounds, that the crown might get sixpence. 
 
 Q. Are not the colonies, from their circumstances, very 
 able to pay the stamp duty? 
 
 A. In my opinion there is not gold and silver enough in 
 the colonies to pay the stamp duty for one year.* 
 
 Q. Don t you know that the money arising from the 
 stamps was all to be laid out in America? 
 
 A. I know it is appropriated by the act to the American 
 service; but it will be spent in the conquered colonies, 
 where the soldiers are ; not in the colonies that pay it. 
 
 Q. Is there not a balance of trade due from the colonies 
 where the troops are posted, that will bring back the money 
 to the old colonies T 
 
 A. I think not. I believe very little would come back. 
 I know of no trade Jikely to bring it back. I think it 
 would come from the colonies where it was spent, directly 
 to England ; for I have always observed, that in every co 
 lony the more plenty the means of remittance to England, 
 the more goods are sent for, and the more trade with Eng 
 land carried on. 
 
 Q. What number of white inhabitants do you think there 
 are in Pennsylvania? 
 
 A. I suppose there maybe about one hundred and sixty 
 thousand. 
 
 Q. What number of them are Quakers? 
 
 A. Perhaps a third. 
 
 Q. What number of German? 
 
 A. Perhaps another third; but I cannot speak with 
 certainty. 
 
 * It was estimated in the House of Commons, that the 
 American Stamp Act would produce 100,0001, sterling per 
 annum to the revenue. Editor. 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 373 
 
 <>. Have any number of the Germans seen service, as 
 soldiers, in Europe ? 
 
 A. Yes, many of them, both in Europe and America. 
 
 Q. Are they as much dissatisGed with the stamp duty as 
 the English? 
 
 A. Yes, and more; and with reason, as their stamps are, 
 in many cases, to be double. 
 
 Q. How many white men do you suppose there are in 
 North America:? 
 
 A. About three hundred thousand, from sixteen to sixty 
 years of age. 
 
 Q. What may be the amount of one year s imports into 
 Pennsylvania from Britain? 
 
 A. I have been informed that our merchants compute the 
 imports from Britain to be above 500,0001. 
 
 Q. What may be the amount of the produce of your 
 province exported to Britain I 
 
 A. It must be small, as we produce little that is wanted in 
 Britain. I suppose it cannot exceed 40,0001. 
 
 Q. How then do you pay the balance ? } -K 
 
 A. The balance is paid by our produce carried to the 
 \Vest Indies (and sold in our own islands, or to the French, 
 Spaniards, Danes, and Dutch) by the same [produce] 
 carried to other colonies in N orth America (as to New 
 England, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Carolina, alid 
 Georgia) by the same, carried to different parts of Eu 
 rope (as Spain, Portugal, and Italy). In all which places 
 we receive either money, bills of exchange, or commodities 
 that suit for remittance to Britain ; which, together with 
 all the profits on the industry of our merchants and mari 
 ners, arising in those circuitous voyages, and the freights 
 made by their ships, centre finally in Britain to discharge 
 the balance, and pay for British manulactures continu 
 ally used in the province, or sold to foreigners by our 
 traders. 
 
, 
 
 374 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIX. 
 
 Q. Have you heard of any difficulties lately laid on tbc 
 Spanish trade ? 
 
 A. Yes, I have heard that it has been greatly obstructed 
 t>y some new regulations, and by the English men of war 
 and cutters stationed all along the coast in America. 
 
 Q. Do you think it right that America should be pro 
 tected by this country, and pay no part of the expense ? 
 
 A. That is not the case. The colonies raised, clothed, 
 and paid, during the last war, near twenty-five thousand 
 men, and spent many millions. 
 
 Q. Were you not reimbursed by parliament? 
 
 A* ^VVe were only reimbursed what, in your opinion, we 
 had advanced beyond our proportion, or beyond what 
 might reasonably be expected from us ; and it was a very 
 small part of what we spent. Pennsylvania, in particular, 
 disbursed about 500,0001. and the reimbursements, in the 
 whole, did not exceed 60,0001. 
 
 Q. You have said, that you pay heavy taxes in Pennsyl 
 vania, what do they amount to in the pound ? 
 
 A. The tax on all estates, real and personal, is eighteen 
 pence in the pound, fully rated : and the tax on the profits 
 of trades and professions, with other taxes, do, I suppose, 
 make full half-a-crown in the pound. 
 
 Q. Do you know any thing of the rate of exchange hi 
 Pennsylvania, and whether it has fallen lately? 
 
 A. It is commonly from one hundred and seventy to one 
 hundred and seventy-five. I have heard that it has fallen 
 lately from one hundred and seventy-five to one hundred 
 sixty-two and a half; owing, I suppose, to their lessening 
 their orders for goods; and when their debts to this coun 
 try are paid, I think the exchange will probably be at par. 
 
 Q. Do not you think the people of America would sub 
 mit to pay the stamp duty, if it was moderated? 
 
 A. No, never, unless compelled by force of arms. 
 
 Q, Are not the taxes in Pennsylvania laid on unequally, 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 875 
 
 in order to burden the English trade : particularly the tax 
 on professions and business ? 
 
 A. It is not more burdensome, in proportion, than the 
 tax on lands. It is intended, and supposed to take, an 
 equal proportion of profits. 
 
 Q. How is the assembly composed ? Of what kinds of 
 people are the members ; landholders or traders? 
 
 A. It is composed of landholders, merchants, and ar 
 tificers. 
 
 Q. Are not the majority landholders! 
 A. I believe they are. 
 
 Q. Do not they, as much as possible, shift the tax off 
 from the land, to ease that, and lay the burden heavier on 
 trade ? 
 
 A. I have never understood it so. I never heard such 
 a thing suggested. And indeed an attempt of that kind 
 could answer no purpose. The merchant or trader is al 
 ways skilled in figures, and ready with his pen and ink. If 
 unequal burdens are laid on bis trade, be puts an addi 
 tional price on his goods ; and the consumers, who are 
 chiefly landholders, finally pay the greatest part, if not the 
 whole. 
 
 Q. What was the temper of America towards Great 
 Britain before the year 1763. 
 
 A. The best in the world. Tirey submitted willingly to 
 the government of the crown, and paid, in their courts, 
 obedience to acts of parliament. Numerous as the people 
 are in the several old provinces, they cost you nothing in 
 forts, citadds, garrisons, or armies, to keep them in sub 
 jection. They were governed by this country at the ex 
 pense only of a little pen, ink, and paper: they were led by 
 a thread. They had not only a respect, but an affection 
 for Great Britain : for its laws, its customs, and manners, 
 and even a fondness for its fashions, that greatly increased 
 Ibe commerce. Natives of Britain were always treated 
 
376 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN, 
 
 with particular regard : to be an Old England-man was, of 
 itself, a character of some respect, and gave a kind of rank 
 among- us. 
 
 Q. And what is their temper now? 
 
 A. O, very much altered. 
 
 Q, Did you ever hear the authority of parliament to make 
 laws for America questioned till lately ? 
 
 A. The authority of parliament was allowed to be valid 
 in all laws, except such as should lay internal taxes. It 
 Avas never disputed in laying duties to regulate commerce. 
 
 Q. In what proportion hath population increased in 
 America ? 
 
 A. I think the inhabitants of all the provinces together, 
 taken at a medium, double in about twenty-five years. 
 But their demand for British manufactures increases much 
 faster : as the consumption is not merely in proportion to 
 their numbers, but grows with the growing abilities of the 
 same numbers to pay for them. In 1723, the whole importa 
 tion from Britain to Pennsylvania was but about 15,0001, 
 sterling : it is now near half a million ! 
 
 Q. In what light did the people of America use to con 
 sider the parliament of Great Britain ? 
 
 A. They considered the parliament as the great bulwark 
 and security of their liberties and privileges, and always 
 spoke of it with the utmost respect and veneration. Ar 
 bitrary ministers, they thought, might possibly, at times, at 
 tempt to oppress them ; but they relied on it, that the par 
 liament on application would always give redress. They 
 remembered, with gratitude, a strong instance of this, when 
 a bill was brought into parliament, with a clause, to make 
 royal instructions laws in the colonies, which the House of 
 Commons would not pass, and it was thrown out. 
 
 Q. And have they not still the same respect for 
 ment? 
 
 A. No, it is greatly lessened. 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 377 
 
 Q. To what cause is that owing? 
 
 A. To a concurrence of causes; the restraint lately 
 laid on their trade, by which the bringing of foreign gold 
 and silver into [the] colonies was prevented ; the prohibi 
 tion of making paper-money among themselves, and then 
 demanding a new and heavy tax by stamps, taking away, 
 at the same time, trials by juries, and refusing to receive 
 and hear their humble petitions. 
 
 Q. Don t you think they would submit to the stamp act, 
 if it was modified, the obnoxious parts taken out, and the 
 duty reduced to some particulars, of small moment? 
 
 A. No, they will never submit to it. 
 
 Q. \\ r hat do you think is the reason that the people in 
 America increase faster than in England ? 
 
 A. Because they marry younger, and more generally, 
 
 Q. Why so ? 
 
 A. Because any young couple, that are industrious, may 
 easily obtain land of their own, on which they can raise a 
 family. 
 
 Q. Are not the lower rank of people more at their ease 
 in America than in England? 
 
 A. They may be so, if they are sober and diligent ; as they 
 are better paid for their labour. 
 
 Q. What is your opinion of a future tax, imposed on the 
 same principle with that of the stamp act ? how would the 
 Americans receive it? 
 
 A. Just as they do this. They would not pay it. 
 
 Q. Have not you heard of the resolution of this house 
 and of the house of lords, asserting the right of parliament 
 relating to America, including a power to tax the people 
 there? 
 
 A. Yes, I have heard of such resolutions. 
 
 Q. W r hat will be the opinion of the Americans on those 
 resolutions ? 
 
 A. They will think them unconstitutional aud unjust. 
 
378 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIX. 
 
 Q. Was it an opinion in America before 1763, that the 
 parliament had no right to lay taxes and dutie* there ? 
 
 A. I never heard any objection to the right of laying- du 
 ties to regulate commerce, but a right to pay internal taxes 
 was never supposed to be in parliament, as we are not re 
 presented there. 
 
 Q. On what do you found your opinion, that the people 
 in America made any such distinction? 
 
 A. I know that whenever the subject has occurred in 
 conversation where I have been present, it has appeared to 
 be the opinion of every one, that we could not be taxed in 
 a parliament where we were not represented. But the 
 payment of duties laid by act of parliament as regulations of 
 commerce, was never disputed. 
 
 Q. But can you name any act of assembly, or public act 
 of any of your governments, that made such distinction ? 
 
 A. I do not know that there was any. I think there was 
 never an occasion to make any such act, till now that you 
 have attempted to tax us : that has occasioned resolutions 
 of assembly, declaring the distinction, in which I think every 
 assembly, on the continent, and every member in every as 
 sembly, have been unanimous. 
 
 Q. What then could occasion conversations on that sub 
 ject before that time ? \:& & 
 
 A. There was in 1754 a proposition made (I think it 
 came from thence) that in case of a war, which was then 
 apprehended, the governors of the colonies should meet, 
 and order the levying of troops, building efforts, and taking 
 of every other necessary measure for the general defence ; 
 and should draw on the treasury here for the sums ex 
 pended ; which were afterwards to be raised in the colo 
 nies by a general tax, to be laid on them by act of parlia 
 ment. This occasioned a good deal of conversation on the 
 subject; and the general opinion was, that the parliament 
 neither would nor could lay any tax oil us, till we were duly 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 079 
 
 represented in parliament; because it \\as not just, nor 
 agreeable to the nature of an English constitution. 
 
 Q. Don t you know there was a time in New York, when 
 it was under consideration to make an application to par 
 liament to lay taxes on that colony, upon a deficiency aris 
 ing from the assembly s refusing or neglecting- to raise the 
 necessary supplies for the support of the civil government? 
 A. I never heard of it. 
 
 Q. There was such an application under consideration 
 in New York: and do you apprehend they could suppose 
 the right of parliament to lay a tax in America was only 
 local, and confined to the case of a deficiency in a particu 
 lar colony, by a refusal of its assembly to raise the neces 
 sary supplies? 
 
 A. They could not suppose such a case, as that the as 
 sembly would not raise the necessary supplies to support 
 its own government. An assembly that would refuse it 
 must want common sense; which cannot be supposed. I 
 think there was never any such case at New York, and that 
 it must be a misrepresentation, or the fact must be misun 
 derstood. I know there have been some attempts, by mi 
 nisterial instructions from hence, to oblige the assemblies 
 to settle permanent salaries on governors, which they wisely 
 refused to do; but 1 believe no assembly of New York, 
 or any other colony, ever refused duly to support govern 
 ment by proper allowances, from time to time, to public 
 officers. 
 
 Q. But in case a governor, acting by instruction, should 
 call on an assembly to raise the necessary supplies, and 
 the assembly should refuse to do it, do you think it would 
 then be for the good of the people of the colony, as well as 
 necessary to government, that the parliament should tax 
 them? 
 
 A. I do not think it would be necessary. If an assembly 
 could possibly be so absurd, as to refuse raising the sup- 
 
380 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 plies requisite for the maintenance of government among 
 them, they could not long remain in such a situation ; the 
 disorders and confusion occasioned by it must soon bring 
 them to reason. 
 
 Q. If it should not, ought not the right to be in Great 
 Britain of applying a remedy ? 
 
 A. A right, only to be used in such a case, I should have 
 no objection to : supposing it to be used merely for the good 
 of the people of the colony. 
 
 r Q. But who is to judge of that, Britain or the 
 colony? 
 
 A. Those that feel can best judge. 
 
 Q. You say the colonies have always submitted to ex 
 ternal taxes, and object to the right of parliament only in 
 laying internal taxes : now can you show, that there is any 
 kind of difference between the two taxes to the colony on 
 which they may be laid ? 
 
 A. I think the difference is very great. An external 
 tax is a duty laid on commodities imported; that duty is 
 added to the first cost and other charges on the commodity, 
 and, when it is offered to sale, makes a part of the price. 
 If the people do not like it at that price, they refuse it ; 
 they are not obliged to pay it. But an internal tax is 
 forced from the people without their consent, if not laid by 
 their own representatives. The stamp act says, we shall 
 have no commerce, make no exchange of property with 
 each other, neither purchase, nor grant, nor recover debts; 
 we shall neither marry nor make our wills, unless we pay 
 such and such sums ; and thus it is intended to extort our 
 money from us, or ruin us by the consequences of refusing 
 to pay i-t. 
 
 Q. But supposing the external tax or duty to be laid on 
 the necessaries of life imported into your colony, will not 
 that be the same thing in its effects as an internal tax ? 
 
 A* I do not know a single article imported into th$ 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 381 
 
 northern colonies, but wlrat they can either do without, or 
 make themselves. 
 
 Q. Don t you think cloth from England absolutely 
 necessary to them I 
 
 A. No, by no means absolutely necessary ; with industry 
 and good management, they may very well supply them- 
 selves with all they want. 
 
 Q. Will it not take a long time to establish that manu 
 facture among them ; and must they not in the mean while 
 suffer greatly ? 
 
 A. I think not. They have made a surprising progress 
 already. And I am of opinion, that before their old clothes 
 are worn out, they will have new ones of their own making. 
 
 Q. Can they possibly find wool enough in North 
 America? 
 
 A. They have taken steps to increase the wool. They 
 entered into general combinations to eat no more lamb : 
 and very few lambs were killed last year. This course, 
 ^persisted in, will soon make a prodigious difference in the 
 quantity of wool. And the establishing of great manufac 
 tories, like those in tke clothing towns here, is not neces 
 sary, as it is where the business is to be carried on for the 
 purposes of trade. The people will all spin, and work for 
 themselves, in their own houses. 
 
 Q. Can there be wool and manufacture enough in one or 
 two years ? 
 
 A. In three years I think there may. 
 
 Q. Does not the severity of the winter, in the northern 
 colonies, occasion the wool to be of bad quality? 
 
 A. No, the wool is very fine and good, 
 
 Q. In the more southern colonies, as in Virginia, don t 
 you know that the wool is coarse, and only a kind of hair? 
 
 A. I don t know it. 1 never heard yet. Yet 1 have 
 been sometimes in Virginia. I cannot say I ever took 
 particular notice of the wool there, but 1 believe it is good, 
 
382 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 though I cannot speak positively of it: but Virginia, and 
 the colonies south of it, have less occasion for wool ; their 
 winters are short, and not very severe ; and they can very 
 well clothe themselves with linen and cotton of their own 
 raising for the rest of the year. 
 
 Q. Are not the people in the more northern colonies 
 obliged to fodder their sheep all the winter? 
 
 A. In some of the most northern colonies they may be 
 obliged to do it, some part of the winter. 
 
 Q. Considering the resolutions of parliament, as to the 
 right; do you think, if the stamp act is repealed, that the- 
 North Americans will be satisfied ? 
 
 A. I believe they will. 
 
 Q. Why do you think so ? 
 
 A. I think the resolutions of right will give them very 
 little concern, if they are never attempted to be carried 
 into practice. The colonies will probably consider them 
 selves in the same situation, in that respect, with Ireland r 
 they know you claim the same right with regard to Ireland, 
 but you never exercise it. And they may believe you never 
 will exercise it in the colonies,, any more than in Ireland, 
 unless on some very extraordinary occasion. 
 
 Q. But who are to be the judges of that extraordinary 
 occasion ? Is not the parliament ? 
 
 A. Though the parliament may judge of the occasion, 
 the people will think it can never exercise such right, till 
 representatives from the colonies are admitted into parlia 
 ment ; and that, whenever the occasion arises, representa 
 tives will be ordered. 
 
 Q. Did you never hear that Maryland, during the last 
 war, had refused to furnish a quota towards the common 
 defence ? 
 
 A. Maryland has been much misrepresented in that mat 
 ter. Maryland, to my knowledge, never refused to con 
 tribute, or grant aids to the crown. The assemblies, every 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 383 
 
 year during the war, voted considerable sums, and formed 
 bills to raise them. The bills were, according to the con 
 stitution of that province, sent up to the council, crupper 
 house, tor concurrence, that they might be presented to 
 the governor, in order to be enacted into laws. Unhappy 
 disputes between the two houses -arising from the defects 
 of that constitution principally rendered all the bills but 
 one or two abortive. The proprietary s council rejected 
 them. Tt is true, Maryland did not contribute its propor 
 tion ; but it was, in my opinion, the fault of government, 
 not of the people. 
 
 Q. Was it not talked of in the other provinces as a pro 
 per measure to apply to parliament to compel them? 
 
 A. I have heard such discourse ; but as it was well 
 known, that the people were not to blame, no such appli 
 cation was ever made, nor any step taken towards it. 
 
 Q. Was it not proposed at a public meeting? 
 
 A. Not that I know of. 
 
 Q. Do you remember the abolishing of the paper-cur 
 rency in New England, by act of assembly? 
 
 A. I do remember its being abolished in the Mas- 
 sac husett s bay. 
 
 Q. W r as not Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson princi 
 pally concerned in that transaction ? 
 
 A. I have heard so. 
 
 Q. Was it not at that time a very unpopular law ? 
 
 A. I believe it might, though I can say little about it, as 
 I lived at a distance from that province. 
 
 Q. Was not the scarcity of gold and silver an argument 
 used against abolishing the paper? 
 
 A. I suppose it was. 
 
 Q. W hat is the present opinion there of that law? Is 
 it as unpopular as it was at first? 
 
 A. I think it is not. 
 
 Q. Have not instructions from hence been some- 
 
384 EXAMINATION OF Dll. FliAXKLlN 
 
 times sent over to governors, highly oppressive and un* 
 political ? 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Have not some governors dispensed with them for 
 that reason? 
 
 A. Yes, I have heard so. 
 
 Q. Did the Americans ever dispute the controlling power 
 of parliament to regulate the commerce ? 
 
 A. No. 
 
 . Qi Can any thing less than a military force carry the 
 stamp act into execution? 
 
 A. I do not sec how a military force can be applied to 
 that purpose. 
 
 Q. Why may it not? 
 
 A. Suppose a military force sent into America, they wifl 
 find nobody in arms: what are they then to do? They 
 cannot force a man to take stamps who chooses to do with 
 out them. They will not find a rebellion : they may indeed 
 make one. 
 
 Q, If the act is not repealed, what do you think will bo 
 the consequences? 
 
 A. A total loss of the respect and affection the people of 
 America bear to this country, and of all the commerce that 
 depends on that respect and affection. 
 
 Q. How can the commerce be affected ? 
 
 A. You will find, that if the act is not repealed, they 
 will take very little of your manufactures in a short time, 
 
 Q. Is it in tlieir power to do without them ? 
 
 A* I think they may very well do without them. 
 
 Q. Is it their interest not to take them ? 
 
 A. The goods they take from Britain are either neces 
 saries, mere conveniences, or superfluities. The first, as 
 cloth, &c. with a little industry they can make at homo; 
 the second they can do without, till they are able to pro 
 vide them among themselves ; and the last, which are 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 385 
 
 touch the greatest part, they will strike off immediately. 
 They are mere articles of fashion, purchased and con 
 sumed because the fashion in a respected country ; but will 
 cow be detested and rejected. The people have already 
 struck otf, by general agreement, the- use of all goods fa 
 shionable in mourning-s, and many thousands pounds worth 
 are sent back as unsaleable. 
 
 Q. Is it their interest to make cloth at home ? 
 A. I think they may at present get it cheaper from Bri 
 tain, I mean of the same fineness and neatness of workman 
 ship ; but when one considers other circumstances, the re 
 straints on their trade, and the difficulty of making remit 
 tances, it is their interest to make every thing. 
 
 Q. Suppose an act of internal regulations connected with 
 u tax, how would they receive it I 
 A. I think it would be objected to. 
 Q. Then no regulation with a tax would be submitted 
 to? 
 
 A. Their opinion is, that when aids to the crown are 
 wanted, they are to be asked of the several assemblies, ac 
 cording to the old established usage ; who will, as they al 
 ways have done, grant them freely. And that their money 
 ought not to be given away, without their consent, by per 
 sons at a distance, unacquainted with their circumstances 
 and abilities. The granting aids to the crown is the only 
 means they have of recommending themselves to their 
 sovereign; and they think it extremely hard and unjust, 
 that a body of men, in which they have no representatives, 
 should make a merit to itself of giving and granting what is 
 not its own, but their s ; deprive them of a right they esteem 
 of the utmost value and importance, as it is the security of 
 all their other rights. 
 
 Q. But is not the post-office, which they have long re 
 ceived, a tax as well as a regulation ? 
 
 A. No ; the money paid for their postage of a letter is 
 2 c 
 
386 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 not of the nature of a tax : it is merely a quantum meruit 
 for a service done : no person is compellable to pay the 
 money, if he does not choose to receive the service. A 
 man may still, as before the act, send his letter by a ser 
 vant, a special messenger, or a friend, if he thinks it cheaper 
 and safer. 
 
 Q. But do they not consider the regulations of the post- 
 office, by the act of last year, as a tax I 
 
 A. By the regulations of last year the rate of postage 
 was generally abated near thirty per cent, through all 
 America ; they certainly cannot consider such abatement as 
 a tax. 
 
 Q. If an excise was laid by parliament, which they might 
 likewise avoid paying, by not consuming the articles excised, 
 would they then not object to it? 
 
 A. They would certainly object to it, as an excise is un 
 connected with any service done, and is merely an aid, 
 which they think ought to be asked of them, and granted 
 by them, if they are to pay it ; and can be granted for them 
 by no others whatsoever, whom they have not empowered 
 for that purpose, 
 
 Q. You say, they do not object to the right of parlia 
 ment, in laying duties on goods to be paid on their impor 
 tation : now, is there any kind of difference between a duty 
 on the importation of goods, and an excise on their con 
 sumption ? 
 
 A. Yes ; a very material one : an excise, for the reasons 
 I have just mentioned, they think you can have no right to 
 lay within their country. But the sea is your s; you 
 maintain by your fleets, the safety of navigation in it, and 
 keep it clear of pirates ; you may have therefore a natural 
 and equitable right to some toll or duty on merchandize 
 carried through that part of your dominions, towards de 
 fraying the expense you are at in ships to -maintain the 
 safety of that carriage. 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 387 
 
 Q. Does this reasoning hold in the case of a duty laid on 
 the produce of their lands exported? And would they not 
 then object to such a duty ? 
 
 A. If it tended to make the produce so much dearer 
 abroad, as to lessen the demand tor it, to be sure they 
 would object to such a duty ; not to your right of laying; 
 it, but they would complain of it as a burden, and petition 
 you to lighten it. 
 
 Q. Is not the duty paid on the tobacco exported, a duty 
 of that kind ? ^ 
 
 A. That, I think, is only on tobacco carried coastwise, 
 from one colony to another, and appropriated as a fund for 
 supporting the college at Williamsburgh, in Virginia. 
 
 Q. Have not the assemblies in the West Indies the same 
 natural rights with those in North America ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly. 
 
 Q. And is there not a tax laid there on their sugars ex 
 ported ? 
 
 A. I am not much acquainted with the West Indies; 
 but the duty of four and a half per cent, on sugars exported 
 was, I believe, granted by their own assemblies. 
 
 Q. How much is the poll-tax in your province laid on 
 unmarried men? 
 
 A. It is, I think, fifteen shillings, to be paid by every 
 single freeman, upwards of twenty-one years old. 
 
 Q. What is the annual amount of c//the taxes in Penn 
 sylvania? 
 
 A. I suppose about 20,0001. sterling. 
 
 Q. Supposing the stamp act continued and enforced, do 
 you imagine that ill humour will induce the Americans to 
 give as much for worse manufactures of their own, and use 
 them, preferably to better of our s? 
 
 A. Yes, I think so. People will pay as freely to gra 
 tify one passion as another, their resentment as \\\r\t 
 pride. ^ c 2 
 
868 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Q. Would the people at Boston discontinue their 
 trade? 
 
 A. The merchants are a very small number compared 
 with the body of the people, and must discontinue their 
 trade, if nobody will buy their goods. 
 
 Q. What are the body of the people in the colonies? 
 
 A. They are farmers, husbandmen, or planters. 
 
 Q. Would they suffer the produce of their lands to rot? 
 
 A, No; but they would not raise so much. They 
 would manufacture more, and plough less. 
 
 Q. Would they live without the administration of justice 
 in civil matters, and suffer all the inconveniences of such a 
 situation for any considerable time, rather than take the 
 stamps, supposing the stamps were protected by a sufficient 
 force, where every one might have them ? 
 
 A. I think the supposition impracticable, thai the 
 stamps should be so protected as that every one might 
 have them. The act requires sub-distributors to be ap 
 pointed in every county town, district, and village, and 
 they would be necessary. But the principal distributors, 
 who were to have had a considerable profit on the whole, 
 have not thought it worth while to continue in the office: 
 and I think it impossible to find sub-distributors fit to be 
 trusted, who, for the trifling profit that must come to their 
 share, would incur the odium, and run the hazard that 
 would attend it; and if they could be found, I think it im 
 practicable to protect the stamps in so many distant and 
 remote places. 
 
 Q. But in places where they could be "protected, would 
 not the people use them, rather than remain in such a situ 
 ation, unable to obtain any right, or recover, by law, any 
 debt? 
 
 A. It is hard to say what tiiey would do. I can only 
 judge what other people will think, and how they will act, 
 by what I feel within myself. I have a great many debts 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 389 
 
 due to me in America, and I had rather they should remain 
 unrecoverable by any law, than submit to the stamp act. 
 They will be debts of honour. It is my opinion the people 
 will either continue in that situation, or find some way to 
 extricate themselves, perhaps by generally agreeing to 
 proceed in the courts without stamps. 
 
 Q. What do you think a sufficient military force to 
 protect the distribution of the stamps in every part pf 
 America ? 
 
 A. A very great force, I can t say what, if the disposi 
 tion of America is for a general resistance. 
 
 Q. What is the number of men in America able to bear 
 arms, or of disciplined militia ? 
 
 A. There are, I suppose, at least 
 
 [ Question objected to. He withdrew. Called in again."] 
 
 Q. Is the American stamp act an equal tax on the 
 country ? 
 
 A. I think not. 
 
 Q. Why so ? 
 
 A. The greatest part of the money must arise from law 
 suits for the recovery of debts, and be paid by the lower 
 sort of people, who were too poor easily to pay their debts. 
 It is therefore a heavy tax on the poor, and a tax upon 
 them for being poor. 
 
 Q. But will not this increase of expense be a means of 
 lessening the number of law-suits ? 
 
 A. I think not ; for as tfae costs all fall upon the debtor, 
 and are to be paid by him, they would be no discouragement 
 to the creditor to bring his action. 
 
 Q. Would it not have the effect of excessive usury ? 
 
 A. Yes, as an oppression of the debtor. 
 
 Q. How many ships are there laden annually in North 
 America with flax-seed for Ireland I 
 
 A. I cannot speak to the number of ships, but I know 
 that in 1752 ten thousand hogsheads of flax-seed, each 
 
390 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 1 
 
 containing- seven bushels, were exported from Philadelphia 
 to Ireland. I suppose the quantity is greatly increased since 
 that time, and it is understood, that the exportation from 
 New York is equal to that from Philadelphia. 
 
 Q. What becomes of the flax that grows with that flax 
 seed? 
 
 A. They manufacture some into coarse, and some into a 
 middling kind of linen. 
 
 Q. Are there any slitting-mills in America? 
 1 A. I think there are three, but I believe only one at pre 
 sent employed. I suppose they will all be set to work, if 
 the interruption of the trade continues. 
 
 Q. Are there any fulling-mills there I 
 j A. A great many. 
 
 Q. Did you never hear, that a great quantity of stockings 
 were contracted for, for the army, during the war, and ma 
 nufactured in Philadelphia? 
 
 A. I have heard so. 
 
 Q. If the stamp-act should be repealed, would not the 
 Americans think they could oblige the parliament to repeal 
 every external tax-law now in force ? 
 
 A. It is hard to answer questions of what people at such 
 a distance will think. 
 
 Q. But what do you imagine they will think were the 
 motives of repealing the act ? 
 
 A. I suppose they will think, that it was repealed from a 
 conviction of its inexpediency; and they will rely upon it, 
 that while the same inexpediency subsists, you will never 
 attempt to make such another. 
 
 Q. What do you mean by its inexpediency? 
 
 A. I mean its inexpediency on several accounts, the po 
 verty and inability of those who were to pay the tax, the 
 general discontent it has occasioned, and the impractica^ 
 ^ility of enforcing it. 
 
 Q. If the act should be repealed, and the legislature 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FR \NKLIN. 
 
 should show its resentment to the opposers of the stamp 
 act, would the colonies acquiesce in the authority of the 
 legislature ? What is your opinion they would do ? 
 
 A. I don t doubt at all, that it the legislature repeal the 
 stamp-act, the colonies will acquiesce in the authority. 
 
 Q. But if the legislature should think fit to ascertain its 
 right to lay taxes, by any act laying a small tax, contrary to 
 their opinion, would they submit to pay the tax ? 
 
 A. The proceedings of the people in America have been 
 considered too much together. The proceedings of the as- ; 
 semblies have been very different from those of the mobs, 
 and should be distinguished, as having no connection with 
 each other. The assemblies have only peaceably resolved 
 what they take to be their rights : they have taken no mea 
 sures for opposition by force, they have not built a fort, 
 raised a man, or provided a grain of ammunition, in order 
 to such opposition. The ring-leaders of riots, they think, 
 ought to be punished ; they would punish them themselves, 
 if they could. Every sober sensible man would wish to see 
 rioters punished, as otherwise peaceable people have no 
 security of person or estate. But as to an internal tax 
 how small soever, laid by the legislature here on the peo 
 ple there, while they have no representatives in this legis 
 lature, I think it will never be submitted to : they will op 
 pose it to the last. They do not consider it as at all neces 
 sary for you to raise money on them by your taxes ; be 
 cause they are, and always have been, ready to raise mo 
 ney by taxes among themselves, and to grant large sums, 
 equal to their abilities, upon requisition from the crown. 
 They have not only granted equal to their abilities, but, 
 during all the last war, they granted far beyond their abi 
 lities, and beyond their proportion with this country (you. 
 yourselves being judges) to the amount of many hundred 
 thousand pounds ; and this they did freely and readily, only 
 <in a sort of promise, from the secretary of state, that it 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 should be recommended to parliament to make them com 
 pensation. It was accordingly recommended to parlia 
 ment, in the most honourable manner for them. America 
 lias; been greatly misrepresented and abused here in papers, 
 and pamphlets, and speeches, as ungrateful, and unreason 
 able, and unjust ; in having put this nation to immense 
 expense for their defence, and refusing to bear any part of 
 that expense. The colonies raised, paid, and clothed, near 
 twenty-five thousand men during the last war; a number 
 equal to those sent from Britain, and far beyond their pro 
 portion ; they went deeply into debt in doing this, and all 
 their taxes and estates are mortgaged, for many years to 
 come, for discharging that debt. Government here was at 
 that time very sensible of this. The colonies were recom 
 mended to parliament. Every year the king sent down to 
 the house a written message to this purpose, " that his ma 
 jesty, being highly sensible of the zeal and vigour with 
 which his faithful subjects in North America had exerted 
 themselves, in defence of his majesty s just rights and pos 
 sessions ; recommended it to the house to take the same 
 into consideration, and enable him to give them a proper 
 compensation." You will find those messages on your own 
 journals every year of the war to the very last ; and you did 
 accordingly give 200,0001. annually to the crown, to be 
 distributed in such compensation to the colonies. This 
 is the strongest of all proofs that the colonies, far from 
 being unwilling to bear a share of the burden, did exceed 
 their proportion r for if they had done less, or had only 
 equalled their proportion, there would have been no room 
 or reason for compensation. Indeed, the sums reimbursed 
 them were by no means adequate to the expense they in 
 curred bevond their proportion: but they never murmured 
 at that; they esteemed their sovereign s approbation of 
 their zeal and fidelity, and the approbation of this house, 
 far beyond any other kind of compensation, therefore there 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 393 
 
 was no occasion for this act, to force money from a willing 
 people : they had not refused giving money for the pur 
 poses of the act, no requisition had been made, they were 
 always willing; and ready to do what could reasonably be 
 expected from them, and in this light they wish to be con 
 sidered. 
 
 Q. But suppose Great Britain should be engaged in a 
 war in Europe, would North America contribute to the 
 support of it? 
 
 A. I do think they would, as far as their circumstances 
 would permit. They consider themselves as a part of the 
 British empire, and as having one common interest with 
 it: they may be looked on here as foreigners, but they do 
 not consider themselves as such. They are zealous for the 
 honour and prosperity of this nation ; and, while they are 
 well used, will always be ready to support it, as far as their 
 little power goes. In 1739 they were called upon to assist 
 in the expedition against Carthagena, and they sent three 
 thousand men to join your army. It is true Carthagena 
 is in America, but as remote from the northern colonies, 
 as if it had been in Europe. They make no distinction 
 of wars, as to their duty of assisting in them. I know the 
 last zcar is commonly spoken of here as entered into for 
 the defence, or for the sake of the people in America. I 
 think it is quite misunderstood. It began about the limits 
 between Canada and Nova Scotia; about territories to 
 which the crown indeed laid claim, but [which] were not 
 claimed by any British colony ; none of lands had been 
 granted to any colonist, we had therefore no particular 
 concern or interest in that dispute. As to the Ohio, the 
 contest there began about your right of trading in the In 
 dian country, a right you had by the treaty of Utrecht, 
 which the French infringed : they seized the traders and 
 their goods, which were your manufactures ; they took a 
 fort which a company of your merchants and their factors 
 
094 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN . 
 
 and correspondents had erected there, to secure that 
 trade. Braddock was sent with an army to retake that 
 fort (which was looked on here as another encroachment 
 on the king s territory) and to protect your trade. It was 
 not till after his defeat that the colonies were attacked. 
 They were before in perfect peace with both French and 
 Indians ; the troops were not therefore sent for their de 
 fence. The trade with the Indians, though carried on in 
 America, is not an American interest. The people of 
 America are chiefly farmers and planters, scarce any thing 
 that they raise or produce is an article of commerce with 
 the Indians. The Indian trade is a British interest / it is 
 carried on with British manufactures, for the profit of 
 British merchants and manufactures ; therefore the war, as 
 it commenced for the defence of territories of the crown 
 (the property of no American) and for the defence of a 
 trade purely British, was really a British war and yet the 
 people of America made no scruple of contributing their 
 utmost towards carrying it on, and bringing it to a happy 
 conclusion. 
 
 Q. Do you think then that the taking possession of the 
 king s territorial rights, and strengthening the frontiers, is 
 not an American interest? 
 
 A. Not particularly, but conjointly a British and an 
 American interest ? 
 
 Q. You will not deny that the preceding war, the war 
 with Spain, was entered into for the sake of America ; 
 was it not occasioned by captures made in the American 
 seas? 
 
 A. Yes ; captures of ships carrying on the British trade 
 there with British manufactures. 
 
 Q. Was not the late war with the Indians, since the 
 peace icith France, a war for America only ? 
 
 A. Yes ; it was more particularly for America than the 
 former; but it was rather a consequence or remains of tho 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 395 
 
 former war, the Indians not having been thoroughly paci 
 fied ; and the Americans bore by much the greatest share 
 of the expense. It was put an end to by the army under 
 General Bouquet ; there were not above three hundred re 
 gulars in that army, and above one thousand Pennsylva- 
 nians. 
 
 Q. Is it not necessary to send troops to America, to 
 defend the Americans against the Indians? 
 
 A. No, by no means : it never was necessary. They 
 defended themselves when they were but an handful, and 
 the Indians much more numerous. They continually 
 gained ground, and have driven the Indians over the moun 
 tains, without any troops sent to their assistance from this 
 country. And can it be thought necessary now to send 
 troops for their defence from those diminished Indian tribes, 
 when the colonies are become so populous, and so strong? 
 There is not the least occasion for it, they are very able to 
 defend themselves. 
 
 1 Q. Do you say there were no more than three hundred 
 regular troops employed in the late Indian war? 
 
 A. Not on the Ohio, or the frontiers of Pennsylvania, 
 which was the chief part of the war that affected the colo 
 nies. There were garrisons at Niagara, Fort Detroit, and 
 those remote posts kept for the sake of your trade; I did 
 not reckon them : but I believe that on the whole the num 
 ber of Americans, or provincial troops, employed in the war, 
 was greater than that of the regulars. I am not certain, 
 but I think so. 
 
 Q. Do you think the assemblies have a right to levy mo 
 ney on the subject there, to grant to the crown ? 
 
 A. I certainly think so, they have always done it. 
 
 Q. Are they acquainted with the declaration of rights ? 
 and do they know that, by that statute, money is not to be 
 raised on the subject but by consent of parliament ? 
 
 A> They are very well acquainted with it. 
 
396 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Q. How then can they think they have a right to leyy 
 money for the crown, or for any other than local purposes ? 
 
 A. They understand that clause to relate to subjects only 
 within the realm ; that no money can be levied on them for 
 the crown, but by consent of parliament. The colonies 
 are not supposed to be within the realm : they have assem 
 blies of their own, which are their parliaments ; and they 
 are, in that respect, in the same situation with Ireland. 
 \Vheri money is to be raised for the crown upon the sub 
 ject in Ireland, or in the colonies, consent is given in the 
 parliament of Ireland, or in the assemblies of the colonies. 
 They think the parliament of Great Britain cannot properly 
 give that consent, till it has representatives from America ; 
 for the petition of right expressly sa}s, it is to be by common 
 consent in parliament ; and the people of America hav e no 
 representatives in parliament to make a part of that com 
 mon consent. 
 
 Q. If the stamp act should be repealed, and an act x 
 should pass, ordering the assemblies of the colonies to in 
 demnify the sufferers by the riots, would they obey it? 
 
 A. That is a question I cannot answer. 
 
 Q. Suppose the king should require the colonies to 
 grant a revenue, and the parliament should be against their 
 doing it, do they think they can grant a revenue to the king-, 
 without the consent of the parliament of Great Britain ? 
 
 A. That is a deep question. As to my own opinion, I 
 should think myself at liberty to do it, and should do it, if 
 I liked the occasion. 
 
 Q. When money has been raised in the colonies, upon 
 requisitions, has it not been granted to the king ? 
 * A. Yes, always ; but the requisitions have generally been 
 for some service expressed, as to raise, clothe, and pay 
 troops, and not for money only. 
 
 Q. If the act should pass, requiring the American as 
 semblies to majte compensation to the sufferers, and they 
 
EXAMINATION OF Dl\. FRANKLIN. 397 
 
 should disobev it, and then the parliament should by another 
 act lay an internal tax, would they then obey it ? 
 
 A. The people will pay no internal tax; and I think an 
 act to oblige the assemblies to make compensation is unne 
 cessary ; tor I am of opinion, that as soon as the present 
 heats are abated, they will take the matter into considera 
 tion, and it it is right to be done, they will do it of them 
 selves. 
 
 Q. Do not letters often come into the post-offices in 
 America directed to some inland town where no post goes? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Can any private person take up those letters and 
 carry them as directed? 
 
 A. Yes ; any friend of the person may do it, paying the 
 postage that has accrued. 
 
 Q. But must not he pay an additional postage for the 
 distance to such inland town? 
 
 A. No. 
 
 Q. Can the post-master answer delivering the letter, 
 without being paid such additional postage ? 
 
 A. Certainly he can demand nothing where he does no 
 service. 
 
 Q. Suppose a person, being far from home, finds a letter 
 in a post-office directed to him, and he lives in a place to 
 which the post generally goes, and the letter is directed to 
 that place, will the post-master deliver him the letter, with 
 out his paying the postage receivable at the place to which 
 the letter is directed ? 
 
 A. Yes ; the office cannot demand postage for a letter 
 that it does not carry, or further than it does carry it. 
 
 Q. Are not ferrymen in America obliged, by act of 
 parliament, to carry over the posts without pay ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Is not this a tax on the ferrymen ? 
 
398 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 A. They tfo not consider it as such, as they have an ad 
 vantage from persons travelling with the post. 
 
 Q. If the stamp act should be repealed, and the crown 
 should make a requisition to the colonies for a sum of mo 
 ney, would they grant it ? 
 
 A. I believe they would. 
 
 Q. Why do you think so ? 
 
 A. I can speak for the colony I live in ; I had it in in 
 struction from the assembly to assure the ministry, that as 
 they always had done, so they should always think it their 
 duty, to grant such aids to the crown as were suitable to 
 their circumstances and abilities, whenever called upon for 
 that purpose, in the usual constitutional manner : and I had 
 the honour of communicating this instruction to that ho 
 nourable gentleman then minister. 
 
 Q. Would they do this for a British concern, as suppose 
 a war in some part of Europe, that did not affect them ? 
 
 A. Yes, for any thing that concerned the general in 
 terest. They consider themselves as part of the whole. 
 
 Q. What is the usual constitutional manner of calling on 
 the colonies for aids ? 
 
 A. A letter from the secretary of state. "* 
 
 Q. Is this all you mean ; a letter from the secretary of 
 state? 
 
 A. I mean the usual way of requisition, in a circular 
 letter from the secretary of state, by his majesty s command, 
 reciting the occasion, and recommending it to the colonies 
 to grant such aids as become their loyalty, and were suit 
 able to their abilities. 
 
 Q. Did the secretary of state ever write for money for 
 the crown? 
 
 A. The requisitions have been to raise, clothe, and pay 
 men, which cannot be done without money. 
 
 Q. Would they grant money alone, if called on ? 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRAKLINN. 399 
 
 A. In my opinion they would, money as well as men, 
 when they have money, or can make it. 
 
 Q. If the parliament should repeal the stamp act, will 
 the assembly of Pennsylvania rescind their resolutions? v 
 
 A. I think not. 
 
 Q. Before there was any thought of the stamp act, did 
 they wish for a representation in parliament? 
 
 A. No. 
 
 Q. Don t you know that there is, in the Pennsylvania!! 
 charter, an express reservation of the right of parliament 
 to lay taxes there ? 
 
 A. I know there is a clause in the charter, by which the 
 king grants that he will levy no taxes on the inhabitants, 
 unless it be with the^consent of the assembly, or by act of 
 parliament. 
 
 Q. How then could the assembly of Pennsylvania assert, 
 that laying a tax on them by the stamp act was an infringe 
 ment of their rights ? 
 
 A. They understand it thus : by the same charter, and 
 otherwise, they are intitled to all the privileges and liber 
 ties of Englishmen ; they find in the great charters, and the 
 petition and declaration of rights, that one of the privileges 
 of English subjects is, that they are not to be taxed but by 
 their common consent; they have therefore relied upon it, 
 from the first settlement of the province, that the parliament 
 never would, nor could, by colour of that clause in the 
 charter, assume a right of taxing them, tf/f ithad qualified 
 itself to exercise such right, by admitting representatives 
 from the people to be taxed, who ought to make a part of 
 that common consent. 
 
 Q. Are there any words in the charter that justify that 
 construction ? 
 
 A. The common rights of Englishmen, as declared by 
 Magna Charta, and the petition of right, all justify it. 
 
400 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Q. Does the disthictron between internal and external 
 taxes exist in the words of the charter ? 
 
 A. No, I believe not. 
 
 Q. Then may they not, by the same interpretation, object 
 to the parliament s right of external taxation ? 
 
 A. They never have hitherto. .Many arguments have 
 been lately used here to show them that there is no dif 
 ference, and that if you have no right to tax them inter 
 nally, you have none to tax them externally, or make any 
 other law to bind them. At present they do not reason so ; 
 but in time they may possibly be convinced by these argu 
 ments. 
 
 Q. Do not the resolutions of the Pennsylvania assembly 
 say all taxes ? 
 
 A. If they do, they mean only internal taxes ; the same 
 words have not always the same meaning here and in the 
 colonies. By taxes they mean internal taxes ; by duties 
 they mean customs ; these are their ideas of the language. 
 
 Q. Have you not seen the resolutions of the Massa 
 chusetts bay assembly ? 
 
 A. I have. 
 
 Q. Do they not say, that neither external nor internal 
 taxes can be laid on them by parliament? 
 
 A. I don t know that they do ; I believe not. 
 
 Q. If the same colony should say, neither tax nor im 
 position could be laid, does not that province hold the 
 power of parliament can lay neither ? 
 
 A. I suppose that by the word imposition, they do not 
 intend to express duties to be laid on goods imported, as 
 regulations of commerce. 
 
 Q. What can the colonies mean then by imposition as 
 distinct from taxes? 
 
 A. They may mean many things, as impressing of men, 
 or of carriages, quartering- troops on private houses, and 
 
EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 401 
 
 the like ; there may be great impositions that are not pro 
 perly taxes. 
 
 Q. Is not. the post-office rate an internal tax lam 6y act 
 of parliament? 
 
 A. \ have answered that. 
 
 Q. Are all parts of the colonies equally able to pay 
 taxes? 
 
 A. No, certainly ; the frontier parts, which have been 
 ravaged by the enemy, are greatly disabled by that means; 
 and therefore, in such cases, are usually favoured in our 
 tax- laws. 
 
 Q. Can we, at this distance, be competent judges of what 
 favours are necessary ? 
 
 A. The parliament have supposed it, by claiming a rjght 
 to make tax laws for America ; I think it impossible. 
 
 Q. Would the repeal of the stamp act be any discou 
 ragement of your manufactures? Will the people that 
 have begun to manufacture decline it? 
 
 A. Yes, I think they will; especially if, at the same 
 time, the trade is opened again, so that remittances can l*e 
 easily made. I have known several instances that make it 
 probable. In the war before last, tobacco being low, and 
 making little remittance, the people of Virginia went ge 
 nerally into family manufactures. Afterwards, when to 
 bacco bore a better price, they returned to the use of British 
 manufactures. So fulling-mills were very much disused in 
 the last war in Pennsylvania, because bills were then plenty, 
 and remittances could easily be made to Britain for English 
 cloth and other goods. 
 
 Q. If the stamp act should be repealed, would it induce 
 the assemblies of America to acknowledge the rights of 
 parliament to tax them, and would they .erase their resolu 
 tions? 
 
 A. No, never. 
 
 2 D 
 
402 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN, 
 
 Q. Are there no means of obliging- them to erase those 
 resolutions ! 
 
 A. None that I know of; they will never do it, unless 
 compelled by force of arms. 
 
 Q. Is there a power on earth that can force them to 
 erase them? 
 
 A. No power, how great soever, can force men to change 
 their opinions. 
 
 Q. Do they consider the post-office as a tax, or as a re 
 gulation 1 
 
 A. Not as a tax, but as a regulation and conveniency; 
 every assembly encouraged it, and supported it in its in 
 fancy, by grants of money, which they would not otherwise 
 have done ; and the people have always paid the postage. 
 
 Q. When did you receive the instructions you men 
 tioned ? 
 
 A. 1 brought them with me, when I came to England, 
 about fifteen months since. 
 
 Q. When did you communicate that instruction to the 
 minister ? 
 
 A. Soon after my arrival,^-while the stamping of Ame 
 rica was under consideration, and before the bill was 
 brought in. 
 
 Q. Would it be most for the interest of Great Britain, 
 to employ the hands of Virginia in tobacco, or in manufac 
 tures? 
 
 A. In tobacco, to be sure. 
 
 Q. What used to be the pride of the Americans? 
 
 A. To indulge in the fashions and manufactures of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 Q. What is now their pride? 
 
 A. To wear their old clothes over again, till they can 
 make new onea. 
 
 Withdrew. 
 
ATTEMPTS OF DR. FRANKLIN. 403 
 
 Attempts of Dr. Franklin for Conciliation of Great Bri 
 tain with the Colonies. 
 
 DEAR SIR, London, Nov. 28, 1768. 
 
 I received your obliging favour of the 12th instant. 
 Your sentiments of the importance of the present dispute 
 between Great Britain and the colonies, appear to me ex 
 tremely just. There is nothing I wish for more than to see 
 it amicably and equitably settled. 
 
 But Providence will bring about its own ends by its own 
 means ; and if it intends the downfall of a nation, that na 
 tion will be so blinded by its pride, and other passions, 
 as not to see its danger, or how its fall may be pre 
 vented. 
 
 Being born and bred in one of the countries, and having 
 lived long and made many agreeable connections of friend 
 ship in the other, I wish all prosperity to both : but I have 
 talked, and written so much and so long on the subject, 
 that my acquaintance are weary of hearing, and the public 
 of reading, anymore of it* which begins to make me weary 
 of talking and writing; especially as I do not find that I 
 have gained any point in either country, except that of ren 
 dering myself suspected, by my impartiality ; in England, 
 of being too much an American, and in America of being 
 too much an Englishman. Your opinion, however, weighs 
 with me, and encourages me to try one effort more, in a 
 full, though concise state of facts, accompanied with argu 
 ments drawn from those facts ; to be published about the 
 meeting of parliament, after the holidays. 
 
 If any good may be done I shall rejoice ; but at present 
 I almost despair. - 
 
 Have yoa ever seen the barometer so low as of late ? 
 2 D 2 
 
404 LETTER FROM LORD HOWE. 
 
 The 22d instant mine was at 28, 41, and yet the weather 
 fine and fair. 
 
 With sincere esteem, I am, dear friend, 
 Your s affectionately, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Letter from Lord Howe to Dr. Franklin. 
 
 Eagle, June the 20^, 1776. 
 
 I cannot, my worthy friend, permit the letters and par 
 cels, which I have sent (in the state I received them) to be 
 landed, without adding a word upon the subject of the in 
 jurious extremities in which our unhappy disputes have en 
 gaged us. 
 
 You will learn the nature of my mission, from the official 
 dispatches which I have recommended to be forwarded by 
 the same conveyance. Retaining all the earnestness I ever 
 expressed, to see our differences accommodated ; I shall 
 conceive, if I meet with the disposition in the colonies 
 which I was once taught to expect, the most flattering 
 hopes of proving serviceable in the objects of the king s 
 paternal solicitude, by promoting the establishment of last 
 ing peace and union with the colonies. But if the deep- 
 rooted prejudices of America, and the necessity of prevent 
 ing her trade from piassing into foreign channels, must keep 
 us still a divided people, I shall, from every private as well 
 as public motive, most heartily lament, that this is not the 
 moment wherein those great objects of my ambitition are ta 
 be attained ; and that I am to be longer deprived of an op 
 portunity to assure you personally of the regard with which 
 I am your sincere and faithful humble servant, 
 
 HOWE. 
 
 P. S. I was disappointed of the opportunity I expected 
 fo sending this letter, at the time it was dated ; and have 
 ever since been prevented by cfclms and contrary winds 
 
Dll. FRANKLIN S ANSWER, 405 
 
 from getting here, to inform General Howe of the commis 
 sion with which I have the satisfaction to be charged, and 
 of his being joined in it. 
 
 Dr. Franklin s Answer to Lord Howe. 
 
 MY LORD, Philadelphia, July 30, 1776. 
 
 I received safe the letters your lordship so kindly foT- 
 warded to me, and beg you to accept my thanks 
 
 The official dispatches to which you refer me, contain 
 nothing more than what we had seen in the act of parlia 
 ment, viz. * Offers of pardon upon submission ;" which I 
 was sorry to find ; as it must give your lordship pain to be 
 sent so far on so hopeless a business. 
 
 Directing pardons to be offered to the colonies, who are 
 the very parties injured, expresses indeed that opinion of 
 our ignorance, baseness, and insensibility, which your unin 
 formed and proud nation has long been pleased to entertain 
 of us ; but it can have no other effect than that of increasing 
 our resentments. It is impossible we should think of 
 submission to a government, that has, with the most wanton 
 barbarity and cruelty, burned our defenceless towns in the 
 midst of winter ; excited the savages to massacre our 
 [peaceful] farmers, and our slaves to murder their masters ; 
 and is even now* bringing foreign mercenaries to deluge 
 our settlements with blood. These atrocious injuries have 
 extinguished every spark of affection for that parent coun 
 try we once held so dear: but were it possible for m to 
 forget and forgive them, it is not possible for you (I mean 
 
 * An army of foreign mercenaries had, about this time, 
 arrived at Staten Island and New York ; hired from one of 
 those princes who have never hesitated to sacrifice the best 
 blood oi their subjects for British gold. Editor. 
 
406 DR.FRANKLIN S ANSWER. 
 
 the British nation) to forgive the people you have so hea* 
 vily injured ; you can never confide again in those as fellow- 
 subjects, and permit them to enjoy equal freedom, to whom 
 you know you have given such just causes of lasting en 
 mity ; and this must impel you, were we again under your 
 government, to endeavour the breaking our spirit by the 
 severest tyranny, and obstructing by every means in your 
 power our growing strength and prosperity. 
 
 But your lordship mentions " the king s paternal solici 
 tude for promoting the establishment of lasting peace and 
 union with the colonies." If by peace is here meant, a 
 peace to be entered into by distinct states, now at war ; 
 and his majesty has given your lordship powers to treat 
 with us of such a peace, I may venture to say, though 
 without authority, that I think a treaty for that purpose not 
 quite impracticable, before we enter into foreign alliances. 
 But I am persuaded you have no such power. Your 
 nation, though, by punishing those American governors 
 who have fomented the discord, rebuilding our burnt 
 towns, and repairing as far as possible the mischiefs done 
 us, she might recover a great share of our regard ; and the 
 greatest share of our growing commerce, with all the ad 
 vantages of that, additional strength, to be derived from a 
 friendship with us; yet I know too well her abounding 
 pride and deficient wisdom, to believe she will ever take 
 such salutary measures. Her fondness for conquest as a 
 warlike nation; her lust of dominion as an ambitious one ; 
 and her thirst for a gainful monopoly as a commercial one 
 (none of them legitimate causes of war) will join to hide 
 from her eyes every view of her true interest, and continu 
 ally goad her on in these ruinous distant expeditions, so 
 destructive both of lives and of treasure, that they must 
 prove as pernicious to her in the end, as the Croisades for-* 
 merly were to most of the nations of Europe. 
 
 I have not the vanity, my lord, to think of intimidating^ 
 
DR. FRANKLIN S ANSWER. 407 
 
 by thus predicting the effects of this war ; for I know it will 
 in England have the fate of all my former predictions; not 
 to be believed till the event shall verify it. 
 
 Long did I endeavour, with unfeigned and unwearied 
 zeal, to preserve from breaking that line and noble porce- 
 Jiiiiie vase the British empire ; for I knew that being once 
 broken, the separate parts could not retain even their share 
 of the strength and value that existed in the- whole; and 
 that a perfect re- union of those parts could scarce ever be 
 boped for. Your lordship may possibly remember the 
 tears of joy that wetted my cheek, when, at your good sis 
 ter s in London, you once gave me expectations, that a re 
 conciliation might soon take place. I had the misfortune 
 to find these expectations disappointed, and to be treated 
 as tlie cause of the mischief I was labouring to prevent. 
 My consolation under that groundless and malevolent 
 treatment was, that I retained the friendship of many wise 
 and good men in that country ; and among the rest, some 
 share in the regard of Lord Howe. 
 
 The well-founded esteem, and permit me to say affec 
 tion, which I shall always have for your lordship, make it 
 painful to me to see you engaged in conducting a war, the 
 great ground of which (as described in your letter) is " the 
 necessity of preventing the American trade from passing 
 into foreign channels." To me it seems, that neither the 
 obtaining or retaining any trade, how valuable soever, is 
 an object for which men may justly spill each other s blood ; 
 that the true and sure means of extending and securing 
 commerce are the goodness and cheapness of commodi 
 ties; and that the profits of no trade can ever be equal 
 to the expense of compelling it, and holding it by fleets 
 and armies. I consider this war against us, therefore, as 
 both unjust and unwise; and I am persuaded, that cool 
 and dispassionate posterity will condemn to infamy those 
 who advised it ; and that even success will not save from 
 
408 RULES FOR REDUCING 
 
 some degree of dishonour, those who have voluntarily en* 
 gaged to conduct it. 
 
 I know your great motive in coming hither was the hopd 
 of being instrumental in a reconciliation ; and J believe, 
 when you find that to be impossible, on any terms given 
 you to propose, you will then relinquish so odious a com 
 mand, and return to a more honourable private station. 
 
 With the greatest and most sincere respect, I have thfc 
 honour to be, my lord, 
 
 Your lordship s most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 B. FRANKLIN. 
 
 Rules for reducing a Great Empire to a small one, pre 
 sented to a late Minister, when he entered upon his Ad 
 ministration. 
 
 An ancient sage valued himself upon this, that though he 
 could not fiddle, he knew how to make a great city of a 
 little one. The science, that I, a modern simpleton, am 
 about to communicate, is the very reverse. 
 
 I address myself to all ministers, who have the manage 
 ment of extensive dominions, which, from their very great 
 ness, are become troublesome to govern, because the mul 
 tiplicity of their affairs leaves no time for fiddling. 
 
 I. In the first place, gentlemen, you are to consider, that 
 a great empire, like a great cake, is most easily diminished 
 at the edges. Turn your attention, therefore, first to your 
 remotest provinces; that, as you get rid of them, the next 
 may follow in order. 
 
 II. That the possibility of this separation may always 
 exist, take special care the provinces are never incorpo 
 rated with the mother-country ; that they do not enjoy the 
 same common rights, the same privileges in commerce, and 
 Inat they are governed by severer laws, all of your enact- 
 
A GREAT EMPIRE. 409 
 
 ing, without allowing them any share in the choice of the 
 legislators. By carefully making and preserving such dis 
 tinctions, you will (to keep to my simile of the cake) act 
 like a wise gingerbread -baker ; who, to facilitate a divi 
 sion, cuts his dough half through in those places, where, 
 when baked, he would have it broken to pieces. 
 
 III. Those remote provinces have perhaps been ac 
 quired, purchased, or conquered, at the sole expense of the 
 settlers or their ancestors, without the aid of the mother- 
 country. If this should happen to increase her strength, 
 by their growing numbers, ready to join in her wars; her 
 commerce, by their growing demand for her manufactures ; 
 or her naval power, by greater employment for her ships 
 and seamen, they may probably suppose some merit in this, 
 and that it entitles them to some favour: you are therefore 
 to forget it all, or resent it, as if they had done you injury. 
 If they happen to be zealous whigs, friends of liberty, nur 
 tured in revolutionary principles ; remember all that to their 
 ^prejudice, and contrive to punish it: for such principles, 
 after a revolution is thoroughly established, are of no more 
 use ; they are even odious and abominable. 
 
 IV. However peaceably your colonies have submitted 
 to your government, shown their affection to your in 
 terests, and patiently borne their grievances, you are to 
 suppose them always inclined to revolt, and treat them ac 
 cordingly. Quarter troops among them, who, by their in 
 solence, may provoke the rising of mobs, and by their 
 bullets and bayonets suppress them. By this means, lika 
 the husband who uses his wife ill from suspicion, you may 
 in time convert your suspicions into realities. 
 
 V. Remote provinces must have governors and judges, 
 to represent the royal person and execute every where the 
 delegated parts of his office and authority. You, minis 
 ters, know, that much of the strength of government de 
 pends on the opinion of the people, and much of that opi- 
 
410 RULES FOR REDUCING 
 
 nion on the choice of rulers placed immediately over them* 
 If you send them wise and good men for governors, who 
 study the interest of the colonists, and advance their 
 prosperity ; they will think their king wise and good, and 
 that he wishes the welfare of his subjects. If you send 
 them learned and upright men for judges, they will think 
 him a lover of justice. This may attach your provinces more 
 to his government. You are therefore to be careful who 
 you recommend for those offices. If you can find prodi 
 gals, who have ruined their fortunes, broken gamesters or 
 stock-jobbers, these may do well as governors, for they will 
 probably be rapacious, and provoke the people by their 
 extortions. Wrangling proctors and pettyfogging law 
 yers too are not amiss, for they will be for ever disputing 
 and quarrelling with their little parliaments. If withal 
 they should be ignorant, wrong-headed f and insolent, so 
 much the better. Attorneys clerks and Newgate solicitors 
 will do for their chief justices, especially if they hold their 
 places during your pleasure : and all will contribute to im 
 press those ideas of your government, that are proper for a 
 people you would wish to renounce it 
 
 VI, To confirm these impressions, and strike them 
 deeper, whenever the injured come to the capital with com 
 plaints of mal-admiriistration, oppression, or injustice, pu 
 nish such suitors with long delay, enormous expense, and 
 a final judgment in favour of the oppressor. This will have 
 an admirable effect every way. The trouble of future 
 complaints will be prevented, and governors and judges will 
 be encouraged to farther acts of oppression and injustice, 
 and thence the people may become more disaffected, and at 
 length desperate. 
 
 VII. When such governors have crammed their coffers, 
 and made themselves so odious to the people, that they can 
 no longer remain among them with safety to their persons^ 
 re cal and reward them with pensions. You may make then* 
 
A GREAT EMPIRE 411 
 
 taronets too, if that respectable order should not think lit 
 to resent it. All will contribute to encourage new gover 
 nors in the same practice, and make the supreme govern 
 ment detestable. 
 
 VI II. If, when you are engaged in war, your colonies 
 should vie in liberal aids of men and money against the 
 common enemy upon your simple requisition, and give far 
 beyond their abilities, reflect, that a penny, taken from 
 them by your power, is more honourable to you, than a 
 pound presented by their benevolence ; despise therefore 
 their voluntary grants, and resolve to harass them with 
 novel taxes. They will probably complain to your parlia 
 ment, thai they are taxed by a body in which they have no 
 representative, and that this is contrary to common right. 
 They will petition for redress. Let the parliament flout 
 their claims, reject their petitions, refuse even to suffer the 
 reading of them, and treat the petitioners with the utmost 
 contempt. Nothing can have a better effect in producing 
 the alienation proposed ; for though many can forgive in 
 juries, none ever forgave contempt. 
 
 IX. In laying these taxes, never regard the heavy bur- 
 dens those remote people already undergo, in defending 
 their own frontiers, supporting their own provincial go 
 vernment, making new roads, building bridges, churches, 
 and other public edifices, which in old countries have been 
 done to your hands, by your ancestors, but which occasion, 
 constant calls and demands on the purses of a new people. 
 Forget the restraint you lay on their trade for your own 
 benefit, and the advantage a monopoly of this trade gives 
 your exacting merchants. Think nothing of the wealth 
 those merchants and your manufacturers acquire by the 
 colony commerce, their increased ability thereby to pay 
 taxes at home, their accumulating, in the price of their 
 commodities, most of those taxes, and so levying them 
 from their consuming customers : all this, and the employ- 
 
412 RULES FOR REDUCING 
 
 went and support of thousands of your poojr by the co o* 
 niste, you are entirely to forget. But remember to make 
 your arbitrary tax more grievous to your provinces, by pub 
 lic declarations, importing, that your power of taxing them 
 has no limits, so that when you take from them without 
 their consent a shilling in the pound, you have a clear right 
 to the other nineteen. This will probably weaken every 
 idea of security in their property, and convince them, that 
 under such a government they have nothing they can call 
 their own ; which can scarce fail of producing the happiest 
 consequences ! 
 
 X. Possibly, indeed, some of them might still comfort 
 themselves, and say, " though we have no property, we 
 have yet something left that is valuable, we have constitu 
 tional liberty, both of person and of conscience. This king, 
 these lords, and these commons, who it seems are too re 
 mote from us to know us and feel for us, cannot take from 
 us our habeas corpus right, or our right of trial by a jury 
 of our neighbours : they cannot deprive us of the exercise 
 of our religion, after our ecclesiastical constitution, an<J 
 compel us to be Papists, if they please, or Mahometans." 
 To annihilate this comfort, begin by laws to perplex their 
 commerce with infinite regulations, impossible to be re 
 membered and observed : ordain seizures of their property 
 for every failure, take away the trial of such property by 
 jury, and give it to arbitrary judges of your own appoint 
 ing, and of the lowest characters in the country, whose sa 
 laries and emoluments are to arise out of the auties or con 
 demnations, and whose appointments are during pleasure. 
 Then let there be a formal declaration of both houses, that 
 opposition to your edicts is treason, and that persons sus 
 pected of treason in the provinces may, according to some 
 obsolete law, be seized and sent to the metropolis of the 
 empire for trial ; and pass an act, that those there charged 
 with certain other offences shall be sent away in chains from 
 
A GREAT EMPIRE. 413 
 
 their friends and country, to be tried in the same manner 
 ibr felony. Then erect a new court of inquisition among- 
 them, accompanied by an armed force, with instructions to 
 transport all such suspected persons, to be ruined by the 
 expense, if they bring aver evidences to prove their inno 
 cence, or be found guilty and hanged, if they cannot afford 
 it. And lest the people should think you cannot possibly 
 go any farther, pass another solemn declaratory act, " that 
 king, lords, and commons, had, have, and of right ought to 
 have, full power and authority to make statutes of suffi 
 cient force and validity, to bind the unrepresented pro 
 vinces -in all cases whatsoever" This will include spiritual 
 with temporal, and taken together must operate wonder 
 fully to your purpose, by convincing them, that they are at 
 present under a power, something like that spoken of in. 
 the Scriptures, which can not only kill their bodies, but 
 damn their souls to all eternity, by compelling them, if it 
 pleases, to worship the devil. 
 
 XI. To make your taxes more odious, and more likely 
 to procure resistance, send from the capital a board oj 
 officers to superintend the co\\ection,composedofthemost 
 -indiscreet, ill-bred, and insolent you can find. Let these 
 have large salaries out of the extorted revenue, and live in 
 open grating luxury upon the sweat and blood of the in 
 dustrious, whom they are to worry continually with ground 
 less and expensive prosecutions, before the above-men 
 tioned and arbitrary revenue-judges ; all at the cost of the 
 party prosecuted, though acquitted, because the king is to 
 pay no costs. Let these men, by your order, be exempted 
 from all the common taxes and burdens of the province, 
 though they and their property are protected by its laws. 
 If any revenue officers are suspected of the least tender 
 ness for the people, discard them. If others are justly com 
 plained of, protect and reward them. If any of the under 
 officers behave so as to provoke the people to drub them, 
 
4U RULES FOR REDUCING 
 
 promote those to better offices: this will encourage others 
 to procure for themselves such profitable drubbings, by 
 multiplying and enlarging such provocations, and all will 
 \vork towards the end you aim at. 
 
 XII. Another way to make your tax odious, is, to mis- 
 apply the produce of it. If it was originally appropriated 
 for the defence of the provinces, and the better support of 
 government, and the administration of justice, where it may 
 be necessary ; then apply none, of it to that defence, but 
 bestow it, where it is not necessary, in augmenting sala 
 ries or pensions to every governor, who has distinguished 
 bimself by his enmity to the people, and by calumniating 
 them to their sovereign. This will make them pay it more 
 unwillingly, and be more apt to quarrel with those that col 
 lect it, and those that imposed it, who will quarrel again 
 with them, and all shall contribute to your own purpose, of 
 making them weary of your government 
 
 XIII. If the people of any province have been accus 
 tomed to support their own governors and judges to satis 
 faction, you are to apprehend, that such governors and 
 judges may be thereby influenced to treat the people kindly, 
 and to do them justice. This is another reason for apply 
 ing part of that revenue in larger salaries to such gover 
 nors and judges, given, as their commissions are, during 
 your pleasure only, forbidding them to take any salaries 
 from their provinces ; that thus the people may no longer 
 hope any kindness from their governors, or (in crown cases) 
 any justice from their judges. And as the money, thus 
 misapplied in one province, is extorted from all, probably 
 all will resent the misapplication. 
 
 XIV. If the parliaments of your provinces should dare 
 to claim rights, or complain of your administration, order 
 them to be harassed with repeated dissolutions. If the 
 same men are continually returned by new elections, ad 
 journ their meetings to some country village, where they 
 
A GREAT EMPIRE. 415 
 
 cannot be accommodated, and there keep them during 
 pleasure ; for this, you know, is your prerogative, and an 
 excellent one it is, as you may manage it, to promote dis 
 contents among the people, diminish their respect, and in 
 crease their disaffection. 
 
 XV. Convert the brave honest officers of your nary 
 into pimping- tide-waiters and colony officers of the CK 
 toms. Let those, who in time of war fought gallantly in 
 defence of the commerce of their countrymen, in peace be 
 taught to prey upon it. Let them learn to be corrupted 
 by great and real smugglers; but (to show their diligence) 
 scour with armed boats every bay, harbour, river, creek, 
 cove, or nook, throughout the coast of your colonies ; stop 
 and detain every coaster, every wood-boat, every fisherman, 
 tumble tbeir cargoes and even their ballast inside out, and 
 upside down ; and if a pennyworth of pins is found un 
 entered, let the whole be seized and confiscated. Thus 
 shall the trade of your colonists suffer more from their 
 friends in time of peace, than it did from their enemies in 
 war. Then let these boats crews land upon every farm in 
 their way, rob their orchards, steal their pigs and poultry, 
 and insult the inhabitants. If the injured and exasperated 
 farmers, unable to procure other justice, should attack the 
 aggressors, drub thenMjmd burn their boats, you are to call 
 this high treason and rebellion, order fleets and armies into 
 their country, and threaten to carry all the offenders three 
 thousand miles to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. O ! 
 this will work admirably ! 
 
 XVI. If you are told of discontents in your colonies, 
 never believe that they are general, or that you have given 
 occasion for them ; therefore do not think of applying any 
 remedy, or of changing, any offensive measure. Redress 
 no grievance, lest they should be encouraged to demand 
 the redress of some other grievance. Grant no request 
 that is just and reasonable, lest they should make another. 
 
416 RULES FOR REDUCING, &c. 
 
 that is unreasonable. Take all your informations of the 
 state f the colonies from your governors and officers in en 
 mity with them. Encourage and reward these leasing- 
 -makers, secrete their lying accusations, lest they should be 
 confuted, but act upon them as the clearest evidence ; and 
 Relieve nothing you hear from the friends of the people. 
 %uppose all their complaints to be invented and promoted 
 by a few factious demagogues, whom if you could catch 
 and hang, all would be quiet. Catch and hang a few of 
 them accordingly, and the blood of the martyrs shall work 
 miracles in favour of your purpose. 
 
 XVII. If you see rival nations rejoicing at the prospect 
 of your disunion with your provinces, and endeavouring to 
 promote it, if they translate, publish, and applaud all the 
 complaints of your discontented colonists, at the same time 
 privately stimulating you to severer measures, let not that 
 alarm or offend you. Why should it? since you all mean 
 the same thing? 
 
 XVIII. If any colony should at their own charge erect 
 ft fortress, to secure their port against the fleets of a foreign 
 ^nemy, get your governor to betray that fortress into your 
 hands. Never think of paying what it cost the country, 
 for that would look, at least, like some regard for justice ; 
 but turn it into a citadel, to awe 4he inhabitants and curb 
 their commerce. If they should have lodged in such fortress 
 the very arms they bought and used to aid you in your con 
 quests, seize them all; it will provoke like ingratitude 
 added to robbery. One admirable effect of these opera 
 tions will be, to discourage every other colony from erect- 
 ftg such defences, and so their and your enemies may more 
 easily invade them, to the great disgrace of your govern 
 ment, and of course the furtherance of your project. 
 
 XIX. Send armies into their country, under pretence 
 of protecting the inhabitants ; but, instead of garrisoning 
 
 .the forts on their frontiers with those troops, to prevent 
 
PRUSSIAN EDICT. 417 
 
 toclirsrons, demolish those forts, and order the troops into 
 the heart of the country, that the savages may be encouraged 
 to attack the frontiers, and that the troops may be protected 
 by the inhabitants : this will seem to proceed from your ill- 
 v/// or your ignorance, and contribute farther to produce 
 and strengthen an opinion among them, that you are no 
 longer fit to govern them. 
 
 XX. Lastly, invest the general of your army in the 
 provinces with great and unconstitutional powers, and free 
 him from the controul of even your own civil governors. 
 Let him have troops enow under his command, with all the 
 fortresses in his possession, and who knows but (like some 
 provincial generals in the Roman empirp, and encouraged 
 by the universal discontent you have produced) he may 
 take it into his head to set up for himself? If he should, 
 and you have carefully practised these few excellent rules 
 of mine, take my word for it, all the provinces will imme 
 diately join him and you will that day (if you have not done 
 it sooner) get rid of the trouble of governing them, and all 
 the plagues attending their commerce and connection from, 
 thenceforth and for ever. 
 
 A Prussian Edict, assuming claims o-cer Britain. 
 
 Dantziclc, Sept. 5, 1773.* 
 
 We have long wondered here at the supineness of the 
 English nation, under the Prussian impositions upon its 
 trade entering our port. We did not, till lately, know the 
 claims, ancient and modern, that hang over that nation, *ad 
 
 * This intelligence extraordinary t first appeared in the Pub 
 lie Advertiser. 
 
 2 E 
 
418 PRUSSIAN EDICT. 
 
 therefore could not suspect that it might submit to those 
 impositions from a sense of duty, or from principles oi 
 equity. The following edict, just made public, may, if se 
 rious, throw some light upon this matter: 
 
 " Frederick, by the grace of God, king of Prussia, 
 &Cr See. &.c. to all present and to come, health. The 
 peace now enjoyed throughout our dominions, having af 
 forded us leisure to apply ourselves to the regulation o 
 commerce, the improvement of our finances, and at the 
 same time the easing our domestic subjects in theijr taxes : 
 for these causes, and other good considerations us there 
 unto moving, we hereby make known, that, after having 
 deliberated these affairs in our council, present our dear 
 brothers and other great officers of the state, members of 
 the same ; we, of our certain knowledge, full power, and 
 authority royal, have made and issued this present edict, 
 viz. 
 
 " Whereas it is well known to all the world, that the 
 first German settlements made in the island of Britain were 
 by colonies of people subjects to our renowned ducal an 
 cestors, and drawn from their dominions, under the con 
 duct of Hengist, Horsa, Hella, Uffa, Cerdicus, Ida, and 
 others ; and that the said colonies have flourished under 
 the protection of our august house for ages past, have 
 never been emancipated therefrom, and yet have hitherto 
 yielded little profit to the same : and whereas we ourself 
 Lave in the last war fought for, and defended the said co 
 lonies, against the power of France, and thereby enabled 
 them to make conquests from the said power in America, 
 for which we have not yet received adequate compensation : 
 and whereas it is just and expedient that a revenue should 
 be raised from the said colonies in Britain towards our in 
 demnification ; and that those who are descendants of our 
 ancient subjects, and thence still owe us due obedience, 
 should contribute to the replenishing of our royal coffers : 
 
PRUSSIAN EDICT. 419 
 
 (as they must have done, had their ancestors remained in 
 the territories now to us appertaining) we do therefore 
 hereby ordain and command, that, from and after the date 
 of these presents, there shall be levied and paid to our 
 officers of the customs, on all goods, wares, and merchan 
 dizes, and on all grain and other produce of the earth, ex 
 ported from the said island of Britain, and on all goods 
 of whatever kind imported into the same, a duty of four 
 and a half per cent, ad valorem, for the use of us and our 
 successors. And that the said duty may more effectually 
 be collected, we do hereby ordain, that all ships or vessels 
 bound from Great Britain to any other part of the world, or 
 from any other part of the world to Great Britain, shall in. 
 their respective voyages touch at our port of Koningsberg, 
 there to be unladen, searched, and charged with the said 
 duties. 
 
 " And whereas there hath been from time to time dis 
 covered in the said island of Great Britain, by our colonists 
 there, many mines or beds of zVow-stone ; and sundry sub 
 jects of our ancient dominion, skilful in converting the said 
 stone into metal, have in time past transported themselves 
 thither, carrying with them and communicating that art ; 
 and the inhabitants of the said island, presuming that they 
 had a natural right to make the best use they could of the 
 natural productions of their country, for their own benefit, 
 have not only built furnaces for smelling the said stone 
 into iron, but have erected plating-forges, slitting-mills, and 
 steel-furnaces, for the more convenient manufacturing of 
 the same, thereby endangering a diminution of the said 
 manufacture in our ancient dominion : we do therefore 
 hereby farther ordain, that, from and after the date hereof, 
 no mill or other engine for slitting or rolling of iron, or any 
 plating-forge to work with a tilt-hammer, or any furnace 
 for making steel, shall be erected or continued in the said 
 island of Great Britain: and the lord- lieutenant of every 
 
 ;> K 2 
 
4-20 PRUSSIAN EDICT. 
 
 county in the said island is hereby commanded, on infor* 
 mation of any such erection within his county to order, and 
 by force to cause the same to be abated and destroyed, as 
 he shall answer the neglect thereof to us at his peril. But 
 we are nevertheless graciously pleased to permit the inha 
 bitants of the said island to transport their iron into Prus 
 sia, there to be manufactured, and to them returned, they 
 paying our Prussian subjects for the workmanship, with all 
 the costs of commission, freight, and risk, coming and re 
 turning ; anything herein contained to the contrary not 
 withstanding. 
 
 " We do not, however, think fit to extend this our in 
 dulgence to the article of wool ; but meaning to encourage 
 not only the manufacturing of woollen cloth, but also the 
 raising of wool in our ancient dominions, and to prevent 
 both, as much as may be, in our said island, we do hereby 
 absolutely forbid the transportation of wool from thence 
 even to the mother-country, Prussia; and that those 
 islanders may be farther and more effectually restrained in 
 making- any advantage of their own wool, in the way of ma 
 nufacture, we command, that none shall be carried out of 
 one country into another ; nor shall any worsted, bay, or 
 woollen-yarn, cloth, says, bays, kerseys, serges, friezes, 
 druggets, cloth-serges, shalloons, or any other drapery 
 stuffs or woollen manufactures whatsoever, made up or 
 mixed with wool in any of the said counties, be carried into 
 any other country, or be water-borne even across the 
 smallest river or creek, on penalty of forfeiture of the same, 
 together with the boats, carriages, horses, &c. that shall 
 be employed in removing them. Nevertheless, our loving 
 subjects there are hereby permitted (if they think proper) 
 to use all their wool as manure, for the improvement of their 
 lands. 
 
 " And whereas the art and mystery of making hats hath 
 arrived at great perfection in Prussia, and the making of 
 
PRUSSIAN EDICT. 
 
 bats by cmr remoter subjects ought to be as much as pos 
 sible restrained: and forasmuch as the islanders before 
 mentioned being in possession of wool, beaver, and other 
 furs, have presumptuously conceived they had a right to 
 make some advantage thereof, by manufacturing the same 
 into hats, to the prejudice of our domestic manufacture: 
 we do therefore hereby strictly command and ordain, that 
 no hats or felts whatsoever, dyed or undyed, finished or 
 unfinished, shall be louden or put into or upon any vessel, 
 cart, carriage, or horse, to be transported or conveyed out 
 of one county in the said island into another county, or to 
 any other place whatsoever, by any person or persons what 
 soever, on pain of forfeiting the same, with a penalty of 
 five hundred pounds sterling for every offence. Nor shall 
 any hat-maker in any of the said counties employ more 
 than two apprentices, on penalty of five pounds sterling 
 per month: we intending hereby that such hat-makers, 
 being so restrained, both in the production and sale of their 
 commodity, may find no advantage in continuing their bu 
 siness. But, lest the said islanders should suffer inconve- 
 niency by the want of hats, we are farther graciously 
 pleased to permit them to send their beaver furs to Prus 
 sia, and we also permit hats made thereof to be exported 
 from Prussia to Britain ; the people thus favoured to pay 
 all costs and charges of manufacturing, interest, commis 
 sion to our merchants, insurance and freight going- and re 
 turning, as in the case of iron. 
 
 " And lastly, being willing farther to favour our said co 
 lonies in Britain, we do hereby also ordain and command, 
 that all the thieves, highway and street robbers, house 
 breakers, forgers, murderers, and villains of every denomi 
 nation, who have forfeited their lives to the law in Prussia, 
 but whom we, in our groat clemency, do not think fit to 
 hang, shall be emptied out of our gaols into the said island 
 ef Great Britain, for the better peopling ot that country. 
 
422 PRUSSIAN EDICT. 
 
 " We flatter ourselves, that these our royal regulations 
 and commands will be thought jurf and reasonable by our 
 much-favoured colonists in England ; the said regulations 
 being copied from their statutes of 10 and 11 Will. III. 
 c. 10 ;-5 Geo. II. c. 22; 23 Geo. II. c. 29 ; 4 Geo. I. 
 c. 11 ; and from other equitable laws made by their par 
 liaments, or from instructions given by their princes, or 
 from resolutions of both houses, entered into for the good 
 government of their own colonies in Ireland and America. 
 " And all persons in the said island are hereby cautioned, 
 not to oppose in anywise the execution of this our edict, or 
 any part thereof; such opposition being high-treason ; of 
 which all who are suspected shall be transported in fetters 
 from Britain to Prussia, there to be tried and executed ac 
 cording to the Prussian law. 
 
 " Such is our pleasure, 
 
 " Given at Potsdam, this twenty-fifth day of the month 
 of August, one thousand seven hundred and seventy- 
 three, and in the thirty-third year of our reign. 
 " By the king, in his council. 
 
 " RECHTJVLESSIG, Sec." 
 
 Some take this edict to be merely one of the king s jeux 
 d" esprit : others suppose it serious, and that he means a 
 quarrel with England : but all here think the assertion it 
 concludes with, " that these regulations are copied from 
 acts of the English parliament respecting their colonies/ a 
 very injurious one ; it being impossible to believe, that a 
 people distinguished for their love of liberty ; a nation so 
 wise, so liberal in its sentiments, so just and eqitable to 
 wards its neighbour, should, from mean and injudicious 
 views of petty immediate profit, treat its own children in a 
 manner so arbitrary and tyrannical ! 
 
PARABLE AGAINST PERSECUTION. 423 
 
 Parable against Persecution, in imitation of Scripture 
 language, 
 
 1. And it came to pass after these things, that Abra 
 ham sat hi the door of his tent, about the going- down of 
 the sun. 
 
 2. And behold a man bent with age, coming from the 
 way of the wilderness leaning on a staff. 
 
 3. And Abraham arose, and met him, and said unto him, 
 Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy i eet, and tarry all night: 
 and thou shalt arise early in the morning, and go on thy 
 way. 
 
 4. And the man said, Nay ; for I will abide under this 
 tree. 
 
 5. But Abraham pressed him greatly : so he turned, and 
 they went into the tent: and Abraham baked unleaven 
 bread, and they did eat. 
 
 6. And when Abraham saw that the man blessed not 
 God, he said unto him, Wherefore dost thou not worship 
 the most high God, creator of heaven and earth? 
 
 7. And the man answered and said, 1 do not worship thy 
 God, neither do I call upon his name, for I have made to 
 myself a god, which abideth always in my bouse, and pro- 
 videth me with all things. 
 
 8. And Abraham s zeal was kindled against the man, and 
 he arose, and fell upon him, and drove him forth with blows 
 into the wilderness. 
 
 9. And God called unto Abraham, saying, Abraham, 
 where is the stranger ? 
 
 10. And Abraham answered aud said, Lord, he wouhi 
 not worship thee, neither would he call upon thy name, 
 therefore have I driven him out from before my face, into 
 the wilderness. 
 
424 CRIMINAL LAWS 
 
 11. And God said, Have I borne with him these 
 dred and ninety and eight years, and nourished him, and 
 clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion against me, and 
 couldst not thou, who art thyself a sinner, bear with him 
 one night? 
 
 12. And Abraham said, Let not the anger of my Lord 
 wax hot against his servant; lo, I have sinned, forgive me 
 I pray thee. 
 
 13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into the wilder 
 ness, and diligently sought for the man, and found him, and 
 returned with him to the tent, and when he had entreated 
 him kindly, he sent him away on the morrow with gifts. 
 
 14. And God spake unto Abraham saying, For this thy 
 sin shall thy seed be afflicted four hundred years in a strange 
 land. 
 
 15. But for thy repentance will I deliver them, and they 
 shall come forth with power, and with gladness of heart 
 and with much substance. 
 
 TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ. 
 
 On the Criminal Laws, and the Practice of Privateering. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, March 14, 1785. 
 
 Among the pamphlets you lately sent me, was one, en 
 titled, Thoughts on Executive Justice. In return for that, 
 I send you a French one on the same subject, Observa 
 tions concernant 1 Executionde 1 Article II, de la Decla-* 
 ration sur le Vol. They are both addressed to the judges, 
 but written, as you will see, in a very different spirit. The 
 English author is for hanging all thieves. The Frenchman 
 is for proportioning punishments to offences. 
 
 Jf we really believe, as we profess to believe, that the law 
 of Moses was the law of God, the dictate of divine wis* 
 
AND PRIVATEERING. 425 
 
 dom, infinitely superior to human ; 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 resti 
 tution of fourfold ? To put a man to death for an offence 
 which does not deserve death, is it not a murder? And, as 
 the French writer says, Doit on punir un delit contre la 
 societe par un crime contre la nature * 
 
 Superfluous property is the creature of society. Sim 
 ple and mild laws were sufficient to guard the property that 
 was merely necessary. The savage s bow, his hatchet, and 
 his coat of skins, were sufficiently secured, without law, by 
 the fear of personal resentment and retaliation. When, by 
 virtue of the first laws, part of the society accumulated 
 wealth and grew powerful, they enacted others more se 
 vere, and would protect their property at the expense of 
 humanity. This was abusing their power, and commencing- 
 a tyranny. If a savage, before "he entered into society, 
 had been told " Your neighbour, by this means, may be 
 come 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 bo 
 the consequence :" he would probably have preferred his 
 liberty, and his common right of killing any deer, to all the 
 advantages of society that might be proposed to him. 
 < That it is better a hundred guilty persons should escape, 
 than that one innocent person should suffer, is a maxim 
 that has been long and generally approved ? never, that 1 
 know of, controverted. Even the sanguinary author of 
 the " Thoughts" agrees to it, adding well, " that the very 
 thought of injured innocence, and much more that of suf 
 fering innocence, must awaken all our tenderest and most 
 compassionate feelings, and at the same time raise our 
 highest indignation against the instruments of it. " But," 
 he adds, " there is no dange.r of either, from a strict ad- 
 Jiercnce to the laws." Really ! Is it then impossible to 
 
420 CRIMINAL LAWS 
 
 make an unjust law I and if the law itself be unjust, may it 
 not be the very " instrument which ought " to raise the 
 author s and every body s highest indignation ?" \ see, in 
 the last newspapers from London, that a woman is capi 
 tally 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, 
 aud 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 four-fold ? 
 Is not all punishment, inflicted beyond the merit of the 
 offence, so much punishment of -innocence ? In this light, 
 how vast is the annual quantity, of not only injured but 
 suffering innocence, in almost all the civilized states of 
 Europe ! 
 
 But it seems to have been thought, that this kind of inno 
 cence may be punished by way of preventing crimes. I 
 have read, indeed, of a cruel Turk in Barbary, who, when 
 ever he bought a new Christian slave, ordered him imme 
 diately to be hung up by the legs, and to receive a hun 
 dred blows of a cudgel on the soles of his feet, that the se 
 vere sense of the punishment, and fear of incurring it 
 thereafter, might prevent the faults that should merit it. 
 Our author himself would hardly approve entirely of this 
 Turk s conduct in the government of slaves; and yet he 
 appears to recommend something like it for the government 
 of English subjects, when he applauds the reply of judge 
 Bnrnet to the convict horse-stealer? who being asked what 
 he had to say why judgment of death should not pass 
 against him, and answering that it was hard to hang a man 
 for only stealing a horse, was told by the judge, " Man, 
 thou art not to be hanged only for stealing a horse, but 
 that horses may not be stolen." The man s answer, if can 
 didly examined, will, J imagine, appear reasonable, as being 
 
AND PFxIY ATEERING. 427 
 
 founded on the eternal principle of justice and equity, that 
 punishments should be proportioned to offences ; and the 
 judge s reply brutal and unreasonable, though the writer 
 " wishes all judges to carry it with them whenever they go 
 the circuit, and to bear it in their minds, as containing a 
 wise reason for all the penal statutes, which they are called 
 upon to put in execution. It at once illustrates," says he, 
 " the true grounds and reasons of all capital punishments 
 whatsoever, namely, that every man s property, as well as 
 Iris life, may be held sacred and inviolate." Is there then 
 no difference in value between property and life? If I 
 think it right, that the crime of murder should be punished 
 with death, not only as an equal punishment of the crime, 
 but to prevent other murders, does it follow, that I must 
 approve of inflicting the same punishment for a little inva 
 sion of my property by theft? If I am not myself so bar 
 barous, so bloody-minded, and revengeful, as to kill a fel 
 low-creature for stealing from me fourteen shillings and 
 threepence, how can I approve of a law that does it? 
 Montesquieu, who was himself a judge, endeavours to 
 impress other maxims. He must have known what humane 
 judges feel on such occasions, and what the effects of those 
 feelings : and, so far from thinking that severe and exces 
 sive punishments prevent crimes, he asserts, as quoted by 
 our French writer that 
 
 " Uatrocite des loix en empeche I execution. 
 
 " L orsque la peine est sans mesure, on est sou-cent oblige 
 dc lui preferer limpunite. 
 
 " La cause de tous les relachemens vient de limpunile 
 des crimes, et non de la moderation des peines. n 
 
 It is said by those who know Europe generally, tha< 
 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 depra 
 vity in our common people. May not one be the defi- 
 
428 CRIMINAL LAWS 
 
 ciency of justice and morality in our national 
 manifested in our oppressive conduct to subjects, and unjust 
 wars on our neighbours? View the long- persisted in, un 
 just, monopolizing treatment of Ireland, at length acknow 
 ledged ! View the plundering government exercised by 
 our merchants in the Indies ; the confiscating war made 
 upon the American colonies : and, to say nothing of those 
 upon Franco 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 im 
 mense 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 neigh 
 bour citizens. A highwayman is as much a robber when 
 he plunders in a gang, as when single ; and a nation that 
 makes an unjust war is only a great gang. After employ 
 ing your people in robbing the Dutch, strange is it, that, 
 being put out of that employ by peace, they still continue 
 robbing, and rob one another? Piraterie, as the French 
 call it, or privateering, is the universal bent of the English 
 nation, at home and abroad, wherever settled. No less 
 than seven hundred privateers were, it is said, commis 
 sioned in the last war! These were fitted out try merchants, 
 to prey upon other merchants, who had never done them 
 any injury. Is there probably any one of those privateer 
 ing merchants of London, who were so ready to rob the 
 merchants of Amsterdam, that would not as readily plun 
 der another London merchant of the next street, if he 
 could do it with the same impunity! The avidity, the 
 alieni appetcns, is the same ; it is the fear alone of the gal 
 lows that makes the difference. How then can a nation, 
 which among the honestest of its people, has so many 
 thieves by inclination, and whose government encouraged 
 and commissioned no less than seven hundred gangs of rob 
 bers, how can such a nation have the face to condemn the 
 
,V\D PRIVATEERING. 429 
 
 criri-.c in individuals, and hang up twenty of them in a morn 
 ing ! It naturally puts one in mind of a Newgate anecdote. 
 One of the prisoners complained, that in the night somebody 
 had taken his buckles out of his slices. " What, the devil!" 
 says another, " have \ve then thieves amongst us? It must 
 rot be suffered. Let us search out the rogue, and pump 
 him to death." 
 
 There is, however, one late instance of an English mer 
 chant, 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 
 lias now an agent here inquiring, by an advertisement in 
 the Gazette, fur those who suffered the loss, in order to 
 make them, as far as in him lies, restitution. This consci 
 entious man is a Quaker. The Scotch Presbyterians were 
 formerly as tender; for there is still extant an ordinance 
 of the town-council of Edinburgh, made soon after the re 
 formation, " forbidding the purchase of prize goods, under 
 pain of losing the freedom of the burgh for ever, with 
 other punishment at the will of the magistrate ; the prac 
 tice of making prizes being contrary to good conscience, 
 and the rule of treating Christian brethren as we would wish 
 to be treated ; and such goods are not to be sold by any 
 godly men within this burgh" The rtfce of these godly 
 men in Scotland is probably extinct, or their principles 
 abandoned, since, as far as that nation had a hand in pro 
 moting the war against the colonies, prizes and confiscations 
 are believed to have been a considerable motive. 
 
 It has been for some time a generally received opinion, 
 that a military man is not to inquire whether a war be just 
 or unjust; he is to execute his orders. All princes who 
 are disposed to become tyrants must probably approve of 
 this opinion, and be willing to establish it ; but is it not a 
 dangerous one? since, on that principle, if the tyrant com- 
 
4SO CRIMINAL LAWS 
 
 nmruls his army to attack and destroy, not only an unof* 
 fending- neighbour nation, but even his own subjects, the 
 army is bound to obey. A negro slave, in our colonies, 
 being commanded by his master to rob or murder a neigh 
 bour, or do any other immoral act, may refuse, and the ma 
 gistrate will protect him in his refusal. The slavery then 
 of a soldier is worse than that of a negro ! A conscientious 
 officer, if not restrained by the apprehension of its being im 
 puted to another cause, may indeed resign, rather than be 
 employed in an unjust war; but the private men are slaves 
 for life ; and they are perhaps incapable of judging for them 
 selves. We can only lament their fate, and still more that 
 ot a sailor, who is often dragged by force from his honest 
 occupation, and compelled to imbrue his hands in, per 
 haps, innocent blood. But methinks it well behoves mer 
 chants (men more enlightened by their education, and per 
 fectly free from any such force or obligation) to consider 
 well of the justice of a war, before they voluntarily engage 
 a gang of ruffians to attack their fellow-merchants of a 
 neighbouring nation, to plunder them of their property, and 
 perhaps ruin them and their families, if they yield it ; or 
 to wound, maim, or murder them, if they endeavour to 
 defend it. Yet these things are done by Christian merchants, 
 whether a war be just or unjust; and it can hardly be just 
 on both sides. They are done by English and American 
 merchants, who, nevertheless, complain of private theft, and 
 hang by dozens the thieves they have taught by their own 
 example. 
 
 It is high time, for the sake of humanity, that a stop 
 was put to this enormity. The United States of America, 
 though better situated than any European nation to make 
 profit by privateering (most of the trade of Europe, with the 
 West Indies, passing before their doors are, as far as in 
 them lies, endeavouring to abolish the practice, by offering, 
 in all their treaties with other powers, an article, engaging 
 
REMARKS CONCERNING, Sec. 431 
 
 solemnly, that, in case of future war, no privateer shall be 
 commissioned on either side ; and that unarmed merchant- 
 ships, on both sides, shall pursue their voyages unmolested. 
 This will be a happy improvement of the law of nations. 
 The humane and the just cannot but wish general success 
 to the proposition. 
 
 With unchangeable esteem and affection, 
 1 am, my dear friend, 
 
 Ever your s. 
 
 Remarks concerning the Savages of North America. 
 Printed in the year 1781. 
 
 Savages we call them, because their manners differ from 
 ours, which we think the perfection of civility: they think 
 the same of their s. 
 
 Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different 
 nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, 
 as to be without any rules of politeness ; nor any so polite, 
 as not to have some remains of rudeness. 
 
 The Indian men, when young, are hunters and warriors ; 
 when old, counsellors ; for all their government is by the 
 council or advice of the sages ; there is no force, there are 
 no prisons, no officers to compel obedience, or inflict 
 punishment. Hence they generally study oratory, the best 
 speaker having the most influence. The Indian women 
 till the ground, dress the food, nurse and bring up the chil 
 dren, and preserve and hand down to posterity the memory 
 of public transactions. These employments of men and 
 women are accounted natural and honourable. Having 
 few artificial wants, they have abundance of leisure for im 
 provement by conversation. Our laborious manner of life, 
 compared with their s, they esteem slavish and base ; and 
 the learning on which we value ourselves, they regard as 
 
432 REMARKS CONCERNING 
 
 frivolous and useless. An instance of this occurred at the! 
 treaty of Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, anno 1744, between 
 the government of Virginia and the Six Nations. After 
 the principal business was settled, the commissioners from 
 Virginia acquainted the Indians by a speech, that there was 
 at Williamsburg a college, with a fund, for educating In 
 dian youth ; and that if the chiefs of the Six Nations would 
 scud down half a dozen of their sons to that college, the 
 government would take care that they should be well pro 
 vided for, and instructed in all the learning of the white 
 people. It is one of the Indian rules of politeness, not to 
 answer a public proposition the same day that it is made : 
 they think it. would be treating it as a light matter, and that, 
 they show it respect by taking time to consider, as of a 
 matter important. They therefore deferred their answer 
 till the day following; when their speaker began, by ex% 
 pressing their deep sense of the kindness of the Virginia 
 government, in making them that offer ; " for we know," 
 says he, " that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught 
 in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our young- 
 men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. We 
 are convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us good by 
 your proposal; and we thank you heartily. But you, who 
 are wise, must know, that different nations have different 
 conceptions of things ; and you will therefore not take it 
 amiss, if our ideas of this kind ef education happen not to 
 be the same with your s. 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 nei 
 ther fit for hunters, warriors, or counsellors ; they were to- 
 
THE SAVAGES. 433 
 
 good for nothing 1 . We are however not the less ob 
 liged by your kind offer, though we decline accepting- it: 
 and to show our grateful sense of it, if the gentlemen of 
 Virginia will send us a dozen of their sons, we will take 
 great care of their education, instruct them in all we know, 
 and make men of them." 
 
 Having- frequent occasions to hold public councils, they 
 have acquired great order and decency in conducting them. 
 The old men sit in the foremost ranks, the warriors in the 
 next, and the women and children in the hindmost. The 
 business of the women is to take exact notice of what 
 passes, imprint it in their memories, for they have no writ 
 ing, and communicate it to their children. They are the 
 records of (he council, and they preserve tradition of the 
 stipulation in treaties a hundred years back ; which, when 
 we compare with our writings, we always find exact. He 
 that would speak, rises, the rest observe a profound silence. 
 When he has finished and sits down, they leave him five or 
 six minutes to recollect, that, if he has omitted any thing- 
 he intended to say, or has any thing to add, he may rise 
 again and deliver it. To interrupt another, even in com 
 mon conversation, is reckoned highly indecent. How dif 
 ferent this is from the conduct of a polite British House of 
 Commons, where scarce a day passes without seine con 
 fusion, that makes the speaker hoarse in calling to order; 
 and how different from the mode of conversation in many 
 polite companies of Europe, where, if you do not deliver 
 your sentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in the 
 middle of it by the impatient loquacity of those you converse 
 with, and never suffered to finish it ! 
 
 The politeness of these savages in conversation is indeed 
 carried to excess, since it does not .permit them to con 
 tradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their pre 
 sence. By this means they indeed avoid disputes; but then 
 it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impression 
 
 2 F 
 
404 .REMARKS CONCERNING 
 
 you make upon them* The missionaries who have at 
 tempted to convert them to Christianity, all complain of this 
 as one of the great difficulties of their mission. The In 
 dians hear, with great patience the truths of the gospel ex 
 plained to them, and give their usual tokens of assent and 
 approbation : you would think they were convinced. No 
 such matter. It is merely civility. 
 
 A Swedish minister, having assembled the chiefs of the 
 Sasquehannah Indians, made a sermon to them, acquaint 
 ing them with the principal historical facts on which ouf 
 religion is founded ; such as the fall of our first parents by 
 eating an apple, the coming of Christ to repair the mischief, 
 his miracles and suffering, &c. When he had finished, an 
 Indian orator stood up to thank him. " What you have 
 told us," says he, " is all very good. It is indeed bad to 
 eat apples. It is better to make them all into cyder. We 
 are much obliged by your kindness in coming so far, to tell 
 us those things which you have heard from your mothers. 
 In return, I will tell you some of those we havejheard from 
 our s. 
 
 "In the beginning, our fathers had only the flesh of ani 
 mals to subsist on, and if their hunting was unsuccessful, 
 they were starving. Two of our young hunters having 
 killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to broil some parts 
 of it. When they were about to satisfy their hunger, they 
 beheld a beautiful young woman descend from the clouds, 
 and seat herself on that hill which you see yonder among 
 the Blue Mountains. They said to each other, it is a spirit 
 that perhaps has smelt our broiling venison, and wishes to 
 eat of it : let us offer some to her. They presented her 
 with the tongue : she was pleased with the taste of it, and 
 said, Your kindness shall be rewarded. Come to this 
 place after thirteen moons, and you shall find something 
 that will be of- great benefit in nourishing you and your 
 children to the latest generations. They did so, and tcr 
 
THE SAVAGES. 435 
 
 their surprise, found plants they had never seen before, 
 but which, from that ancient time, have been constantly 
 cultivated among us, to our great advantage. Where her 
 right hand had touched the ground, they found maize; 
 where her left hand had touched it, they found kidney- 
 beans; and where her backside had sat on it, they found 
 tobacco." The good missionary, disgusted with this idle 
 tale, said, " What I have delivered to you were sacred 
 truths, but what you tell me is mere fable, fiction, and false 
 hoods." The Indian, offended, replied, " My brother, it 
 seems your friends have not done you justice in your educa 
 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?" 
 
 W r hen any of them come into our towns, our people are 
 apt to crowd round them, gaze upon them, and incommode 
 them where they desire to be private; this they esteem 
 great rudeness, and the effect of the want of instruction in 
 the rules of civility and good manners. " \Ve have," say 
 they, " as much curiosity as you, and when you come into 
 our towns, we wish for opportunities of looking at you ; but 
 for this purpose we hide ourselves behind bushes, where 
 you are to pass, and never intrude ourselves into your 
 company." 
 
 Their manner of entering one another s villages has like 
 wise 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 hear* 
 ing, they stop and halloo, remaining there till invited to 
 enter. Two old men usually come out to them, and lead 
 them in. There is in every village a vacant dwelling, called 
 the strangers house. Here they are placed, while the old 
 men go round from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants, 
 that strangers are arrived who are probably hungry and 
 2 F 2 
 
REMARKS CONCERNING 
 
 weary; arid every one sends them what he can spare of 
 victuals, and skins to repose on. When the strangers are 
 refreshed, pipes and tobacco are brought : and then, but 
 not before, conversation begins, with inquiries who they 
 are, whither bound, what news, &c. and it usually ends with 
 offers of service, if the strangers have occasion for guides > 
 or any necessaries for continuing their journey ; and no 
 thing is exacted for the entertainment* 
 
 The same hospitality, esteemed among them as a princi 
 pal virtue, is practised by private persons ? of which Coit- 
 rad Weiser, our interpreter, gave me the following in 
 stance. He had been naturalized among the Six Nations, 
 and spoke well the Mohuck language. In going through 
 the Indian country, to carry a message from our governor 
 to the council at Onondago, he called at the habitation of 
 Canassetego, an old acquaintance, who embraced him, 
 spread furs for him to sit on, and placed before him some 
 boiled beans and venison, and mixed some rum and water 
 for bis drink. When he was we 1 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 dis 
 course 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, tliat 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 F " They 
 meet there," says Conrad, " to hear and learn good 
 things." " I do not doubt," says the Indian, " that they 
 tell you so ; they have told me the same : but I doubt the 
 truth of what they say, and I will tell you my reasons. I 
 went lately to Albany to sell my skins and buy blankets, 
 knives, powder, rum, &c. You know I ust d generally to 
 
THE SAVAGES. 437 
 
 deal with Hans Hanson ; but I was a little inclined this time 
 to try some other merchants. However, I called first upon 
 Hans, and asked him what he would give for beaver. He 
 said he could not give more than four shillings a pound : 
 * but/ says he, 1 cannot talk on business now ; this is the 
 day when we meet together to learn good things, and I am 
 going to the meeting. So I thought to myself, since I 
 cannot do any business to-day, I may as well go to the 
 meeting too, and I went with him. There stood up a mau 
 in black, and began to talk to the people very angrily. I 
 did not understand what he said ; but perceiving that he 
 looked much at me, and at Hanson, I imagined he was 
 angry at seeing me there ; so I went out, sat down near 
 the house, struck fire, and lit my pipe, waiting till the meet 
 ing should break up. I thought too, that the man had 
 mentioned something of beaver, and I suspected it might 
 be the subject of their meeting. So when they came out 
 I accosted my merchant. Well, Hans/ says I, I hope 
 you have agreed to give more than four shillings a pound T 
 No/ says he, I cannot give so much, I cannot give more 
 than three shillings and sixpence. I then spoke to several 
 other dealers, but they all sung the same song, three and 
 sixpence, three and sixpence. This made it clear to me 
 that my suspicion was right ; and that whatever they pre 
 tended of meeting to learn good things, the real purpose 
 was to consult how to cheat Indians in the price of beaver. 
 Consider but a little, Conrad, and you must be of my opi 
 nion. If they met so often to learn good things, they would 
 certainly have learned some before this time. But they 
 are still ignorant. You know our practice. If a white 
 man, in travelling through our country, enters one of our 
 cabins, we all treat him as I do you ; we dry him if he is 
 wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him meat and 
 drink, that he may allay his thirst and hunger; and we 
 spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on : we demand 
 
INTERNAL STATE 
 
 nothing in return.* But if I go into a white man s house 
 at Albany, and ask for victuals and drink, they say, Where 
 is your money ? and if I have none, they say, Get out you 
 Indian dog-. You see they have not yet learned those lit 
 tle good things, that we need no meetings to be instructed 
 in, because our mothers taught them to us when we were 
 children ; and therefore it is impossible their meetings should 
 be, as they say, for any such purpose, or have any such 
 effect ; they are only to contrive the cheating of Indians in 
 the price of beaver " 
 
 The Internal State of America; being a true Descrip 
 tion of the Interest and Policy of that vast Continent. 
 
 1784. 
 
 There is a tradition, that, in the planting of New Eng 
 land, the first settlers met with many difficulties and hard 
 ships ; as is generally the case when a civilized people at 
 tempt establishing themselves in a wilderness country. 
 Being piously disposed, they sought relief from Heaven by 
 laying their wants and distresses before the Lord, in fre- 
 
 * It is remarkable, that in all ages and countries, hospi 
 tality has been allowed as the virtue of those whom the civi 
 lized were pleased to call Barbarians. The Greeks cele 
 brated the Scythians for it, the Saracens possessed it 
 eminently ; and it is to this day the reigning virtue of the wild 
 Arabs. St Paul too, in the relation of his voyage and ship 
 wreck, on the island of Melita, says, " the barbarous people 
 showed us no little kindness: for they kindled a fire, and re-, 
 ceived us everv one, because of the present rain, and because 
 of the cold." 
 
OF AMERICA. 439 
 
 quent set days of fasting- and prayer. Constant meditation 
 and discourse on these subjects kept their minds gloomy and 
 discontented ; and, like the children of Israel, there were 
 many disposed to return to that Egypt, which persecution 
 had induced them to abandon. At length, when it was 
 proposed in the assembly to proclaim another fast, a far 
 mer of plain sense rose, and remarked, that the inconve 
 niences they suffered, and concerning which they had so 
 often wearied heaven with their complaints, were not so 
 great as they might have expected, and were diminishing 
 every day as the colony strengthened ; that the earth be 
 gan to reward their labour, and to furnish liberally for 
 their subsistence ; that the seas and rivers were found full 
 offish, the air sweet, the climate healthy; and, above all, 
 that they were there in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil andi 
 religious : he therefore thought, that reflecting and con 
 versing on these subjects would be more comfortable, as 
 tending more to make them contented with their situation ; 
 and that it would be more becoming the gratitude they 
 owed to the Divine Being, if, instead of a fast, they should 
 proclaim a thanksgiving. His advice was taken ; and from 
 that day to this they have in every year observed circum 
 stances of public felicity sufficient to furnish employment 
 for a thanksgiving day ; which is therefore constantly or 
 dered and religiously observed. 
 
 I see in the public newspapers of different states fre 
 quent complaints of hard times, deadness of trade, scarcity 
 of money, 8?c. $?c. It is not my intention to assert 01 
 maintain, that these complaints are entirely without foun - 
 dation. There can be no country or nation existing, in 
 which there will not be some people so circumstanced, as 
 to find it hard to gain a livelihood ; people who are not in 
 the way of any profitable trade, and with whom money is 
 scarce, because they have nothing to give in exchange for 
 j$ j pnd it is always in the power of a small number to make 
 
440 INTERNAL STATE 
 
 a great clamour, But let us take a cool view of the general 
 state of our affairs, and perhaps the prospect will appear 
 less gloomy than has been imagined. 
 
 The great business of the continent is agriculture. For 
 one artisan, or merchant, I suppose, we have at least one 
 hundred farmers, by far the greatest part cultivators of their 
 own fertile lands, from whence many of them draw not only 
 food necessary for their subsistence, but the materials of 
 their clothing, so as to need very few foreign supplies; 
 while they have a surplus of productions to dispose of, 
 whereby wealth is gradually accumulated. Such has been 
 the goodness of Divine Providence to these regions, and so 
 favourable the climate, that, since the three or four years 
 of hardship in the first settlement of our fathers here, a 
 famine or scarcity has nev er been heard oi amongst us : on 
 the contrary, though some years may have been more, and 
 others less plentiful, there has always been provision 
 enough for ourselves, and a quantity to spare for exporta 
 tion. 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 abun 
 dantly testify. The lands he possesses are also continually 
 rising in value with the increase of population ; and, on the 
 whole, he is enabled to give such good wages to those who 
 work for him, that all who are acquainted with the old world 
 must agree, that in no part of it are the labouring poor so 
 general!) well fed, well clothed, well lodged, and well paid, 
 as in the United States of America. 
 
 If we enter the cities, we find, that since the revolution, 
 the owners of houses and lots of ground have had their in 
 terest vastly augmented in value; rents have risen to an 
 astonishing height, and thence encouragement to increase 
 building, which gives employment to an abundance of 
 workmen, as does also the increased luxury and splendour 
 of living of the inhabitants, thus made richer. These work- 
 
OF AMERICA, 441 
 
 lucn all demand and obtain much higher wages than any 
 other part of the world would afford them, and are paid in 
 ready money. This rank of people therefore do not, or ought 
 not, to complain of hard times; and they make a very con 
 siderable part of the city inhabitants. 
 
 At the distance I live from our American fisheries, I can 
 not speak of them with any degree of certainty ; but I have 
 not heard, that the labour of the valuable race of men era- 
 ployed in them is worse paid, or that they meet with less 
 success, than before the revolution. The whale men in 
 deed have been deprived of one market lor their oil; but 
 another, I hear, is opening ibr them, which it is hoped may 
 be equally advantageous ; and the demand is constantly in 
 creasing for their spermaceti candles, which therefore bear 
 a much higher price than formerly. 
 
 There remain the merchants and shopkeepers. Of these, 
 though they make but a small part of the whole nation, the 
 number is considerable, too great indeed for the business 
 they are employed in ; for the consumption of goods in 
 every country has its limits ; the faculties of the people, 
 that is, their ability to buy and pay, being equal only to a 
 certain quantity of merchandize. If merchants calculate 
 amiss on this proportion, and import too much, they will of 
 course find the sale dull for the overplus, and some of them 
 will say, that trade languishes. They should, and doubt 
 less will, grow wiser by experience, and import less. If 
 too many artificers in town, and farmers from the country, 
 flattering themselves with the idea of leading easier lives, 
 turn shopkeepers, the whole natural quantity of that bu 
 siness 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 mo 
 ney, while, in fact, it is not so much from the fewness of 
 buyers, as from the excessive number of- sellers, that the 
 niisduef arises ; and, if every shopkeeping farmer and me- 
 
442 INTERNAL STATE 
 
 chanic would return to the use of his plough and working 
 tools, there would remain of widows and other women, shop 
 keepers sufficient for the business, which might then afford 
 them a comfortable maintenance. 
 
 Whoever has travelled through the various parts of Eu 
 rope, and observed how small is the proportion of people 
 in affluence or easy circumstances there, compared with 
 those in poverty and misery ; the few rich and haughty 
 landlords, the multitude of poor, abject, rack-rented, tythe- 
 paying tenants, and half-paid and half-starved ragged la 
 bourers; and views here the happy mediocrity that so ge 
 nerally prevails throughout these states, where the culti 
 vator works for himself, and supports his family in decent 
 plenty, will, methinks, see abundant reason to bless Divine 
 Providence for the evident and great difference in our fa 
 vour, and be convinced that no nation known to us enjoys 
 a greater share of human felicity. 
 
 it is true, that in some of the states there are parties and 
 discords ; but let us look back, and ask if we were ever 
 without them? Such will exist wherever there is liberty; 
 and perhaps they help to preserve it. By the collision of 
 different sentiments, sparks of truth are struck out, and 
 political light is obtained. The different factions, which at 
 present divide us, aim all at the public good ; the differences 
 are only about the various modes of promoting it. Things, 
 actions, measures, and objects of all kinds, present them 
 selves to the minds of men in such a variety of lights, that 
 it is not possible we shou xl 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 com 
 mon lot of humanity : and our sare by no means more mis 
 chievous or less beneficial than those of other countries, 
 nations, and ages, enjoying in the same degree the great 
 blessing of political liberty. 
 
 Some indeed among us are not so much grieved for tha 
 
OF AMERICA, 443 
 
 present state of our affairs, as apprehensive for the future. 
 The growth of luxury alarms them, and they think we are 
 from that alone in the high road to ruin. They observe, 
 that no revenue is sufficient without economy, and ihat the 
 most plentiful income of a whole people from the natural 
 productions of their country may be dissipated in vain and 
 needless expenses, and poverty be introduced in the place 
 of affluence. This may be possible. It however rarely 
 happens: for there seems to be in every nation a greater 
 proportion of industry and frugality, which tend to enrich, 
 than of idleness and prodigality, which occasion poverty: 
 so that upon the whole there is a continual accumulation. 
 Reflect what Spain, Gaul, Germany, and Britain were in 
 the time of the Romans, inhabited by people little richer 
 than our savages, and consider the wealth they at present 
 possess, in numerous well-built cities, improved farms, rich 
 naoveables, magazines stocked with valuable manufactures, 
 to say nothing 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 it is possible, that the luxury 
 of our sea-ports can be sufficient to ruin such a country. 
 If the importation of foreign luxuries could ruin a people, 
 we should probably have been ruined long ago ; for the 
 British nation claimed a right, and practised it, of import 
 ing among us not only the superfluities of their own pro 
 duction, but those of every nation under Heaven ; we 
 bought and consumed them, and yet we flourished, and 
 grew rich. At present our independent governments may 
 do what we could not then do, discourage by heavy duties, 
 or prevent by heavy prohibitions, such importations, and 
 
444 INFORMATION TO THOSE 
 
 thereby grow richer : if, indeed, which may admit of dispute, 
 the desire of adorning ourselves with fine clothes, possessing 
 fine furniture, with elegant houses, &c. is not by strongly 
 inciting to labour and industry, the occasion of producing 
 a greater value than is consumed in the gratification of that 
 desire. 
 
 The agriculture and fisheries of the United States are 
 the great sources of our increasing wealth. He that puts 
 a seed into the tarth is recompensed, perhaps, by receiving 
 forty out of it: and he who draws a fish out of our water, 
 draws up a piece of silver. 
 
 Let us (and there is no doubt but we shall) be attentive 
 to these, and then the power of rivals, with all their re 
 straining 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 re 
 ceive a fall, the touch of our parents will communicate to 114 
 fresh strength and vigour to renew the contest. 
 
 Information to those who would remove to America* 
 
 1784. 
 
 Many persons in Europe having directly, or by letters, 
 expressed to the writer of this, who is well acquainted with 
 North America their desire of transporting and establishing 
 themselves in that country ; but who appear to him to have 
 formed, through ignorance, mistaken ideas and expecta 
 tions of what is to be obtained there ; he thinks it may be 
 useful, and prevent inconvenient, expensive, and fruitless 
 removals and voyages of improper persons, if lie gives some 
 clearer and truer notions of that part of the world than ap 
 pear to have hitherto prevailed. 
 
 He finds it is imagined by numbers, that the inhabitants 
 
REMOVING TO AMERICA. 445 
 
 of North America are rich, capable of rewarding 1 , and dis 
 posed to reward, all sorts of ingenuity; that they are at the 
 same time ignorant of all the sciences, and consequently, 
 that strangers, possessing talents in the belles-lettres, fine 
 arts, &c. must be highly esteemed, and so well paid, as to 
 become easily rich themselves ; that there are also abun 
 dance of profitable offices to be disposed of, which the na 
 tives are not qualified to fill ; and that, having few persons 
 of family among them, strangers of birth must be greatly 
 respected, and of course easily obtain the best of those 
 offices, which will make all their fortunes : that the govern 
 ments too, to encourage emigrations from Europe, not only 
 pay the expense of personal transportation, but give lands 
 gratis to strangers, with negroes to work for them, uten 
 sils of husbandry, -and stocks of cattle. These are all wild 
 imaginations ; and those who go to America with expecta 
 tions founded upon them will surely find themselves disap 
 pointed. 
 
 The truth is, that though there are in that country few 
 people so miserable as the poor of Europe, there are also 
 very few that in Europe would be called rich; it is rather 
 a general happy mediocrity that prevails. There are few 
 great proprietors of the soil, and few tenants; most people 
 cultivate their own lands, or follow some handicraft or mer 
 chandise; very few rich enough to live idly upon their 
 rents or incomes, or to pay the high prices given in Eu 
 rope for painting, statues, architecture, and the other works 
 of art, that are more curious than useful. Hence the na 
 tural 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 appre 
 hended ; there being already existing nine colleges or uni 
 versities, viz, four in New England, and one in each of the 
 
446 INFORMATION TO THOSE 
 
 provinces of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Mary* 
 land, and Virginia, all furnished with learned professors, 
 besides a number of smaller academies: these educate many 
 of their youth in the languages, and those sciences that 
 quality men for the professions of divinity, law, or physic. 
 Strangers indeed are by no means excluded from exercising 
 those professions; and the quick increase of inhabitants 
 every where gives them a chance of employ, which they 
 have in common with the natives. Of civil offices, or em 
 ployments, there are few; no superfluous ones, as in Eu 
 rope ; and it is a rule established in some of the states, that 
 no office should be so profitable as to make it desirable. 
 The thirty-sixth article of the constitution of Pennsylvania 
 runs expressly in these words: "As every freeman, to pre 
 serve his independence (if he has not a sufficient estate) 
 ought to have some profession, calling, trade, or farm, 
 whereby he may honestly subsist, there can be no necessity 
 for, nor use in, establishing offices of profit; the usual 
 effects of which are dependence and servility, Unbecoming 
 freemen, in the possessors and expectants ; faction, con 
 tention, 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 le 
 gislature." 
 
 These ideas prevailing more or less in all the United 
 States, it cannot be worth any man s while, who has a means 
 of living at home, to expatriate himself, in hopes of ob 
 taining a profitable civil office in America ; and as to mi 
 litary offices, they are at an end with the war, the armies 
 being disbanded. Much less is it adviseable for a person to 
 go thither who has no other quality to recommend him but 
 his birth. In Europe it has indeed its value ; but it is a 
 commodity that cannot be carried to a worse market than 
 to that of America, where people do not inquire concerning 
 
REMOVING TO AMERICA. 447 
 
 * stranger, What is he? but, What can he do? If he 
 has any useful art, he is welcome ; and if he exercises it, 
 and behaves well, he will be respected by all that know 
 him ; but a mere man of quality, who on that account 
 wants to live upon the public by some office or salary, will 
 be despised and disregarded. The husbandman is in ho 
 nour there, and even the mechanic, because their employ 
 ments are useful. The people have a saying, that God 
 Almighty is himself a mechanic, the greatest in the uni 
 verse ; and he is respected and admired more for the va 
 riety, ingenuity, and utility of his handy works, than for 
 the antiquity of his family. They are pleased with the ob 
 servation of a negro, and frequently mention it, that Boc- 
 carora (meaning the white man) make de black man. 
 workee, make de horse workee, made de ox workee, make 
 ebry ting workee, only de hog. He de hog no workee, he 
 at, 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 ob 
 liged to a genealogist, who could prove for him that his 
 ancestors and relations for ten generations had been 
 ploughmen, smiths, carpenters, turners, weavers, tanners, 
 or even shoemakers, and consequently that they were use 
 ful members of society ; than if he could only prove that 
 they were gentlemen, doing nothing of value, but living idly 
 on the labour of others, mere fruges consumere nati* and 
 otherwise good for nothing, till by their death their estates, 
 like the carcase of the negro s gentleman-hog, come to be 
 cut up. 
 
 With regard to encouragements for strangers from go* 
 vernment, they are really only what are derived from good 
 
 born 
 
 Merely to eat up the corn. Watts- 
 
448 INFORMATION TO THOSE 
 
 laws and liberty. Strangers are welcome, because there 
 is room enough for them all, and therefore the old inhabi 
 tants are not jealous of them ; the laws protect them suffi 
 ciently, 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 f6rtune 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 go 
 vernment does not at present, whatever it may have done 
 in former times, hire people to become settlers, by paying 
 their passages, giving land, negroes, utensils, stock, or any 
 other kind of emolument whatsoever. In short, America 
 is the land of labour, and by no means what the English 
 call Lubberland, and the French Pays de Cocagne, where 
 the streets are said to be paved with half-peck loaves, the 
 houses tiled with pancakes, and where the fowls fly about 
 ready roasted, crying, Come eat me ! 
 
 Who then are the kind of persons to whom an emigra 
 tion to America may be advantageous? And what are the 
 advantages they may reasonably expect? 
 
 Land being cheap in that country, from the vast forests 
 still void of inhabitants, and not likely to be occupied in an 
 age to come, insomuch that the propriety of an hundred 
 acres of fertile soil full of wood, may be obtained near the 
 frontiers, in many places, for eight or ten guineas, hearty 
 young labouring men, who understand the husbandry of 
 corn and cattle, which is nearly the same in that country as 
 in Europe, may easily establish themselves there. A little 
 money saved of the good wages they receive there, while 
 they work for others, enables them to buy the land and be 
 gin their plantation, in which they are assisted by the good 
 will of their neighbours, and some credit. Multitudes of 
 poor people from England, Ireland, Scotland, and Ger 
 many, have by this means in a few years become wealthy 
 farmers, who, in their own countries, where all the lands 
 
feEMOVING TO AMERICA. 44D 
 
 fcre fully occupied, and the wages ot labour low, could never 
 have emerged from the mean condition wherein they were 
 born. 
 
 From the salubrity of the air, the healthiness of the cli 
 mate, the plenty of good provisions, and the encourage 
 ment lo early marriages, by the certainty of subsistence in 
 cultivating the earth, the increase of inhabitants by natural 
 generation is very rapid in America, and becomes still more 
 so by the accession of strangers ; hence there is a conti 
 nual demand for more artizans of all the necessary and use* 
 ful kinds, to supply those cultivators of the earth with 
 bouses, and with furniture and utensils of the grosser 
 sorts, which cannot so well be brought from Europe. To 
 lerably good workmen in any of those mechanic arts are 
 sure to find employ, and to be well paid for their work, 
 there being no restraints preventing strangers from exer 
 cising any art they understand, nor any permission neces 
 sary. If they are poor, they begin first as servants or 
 journeymen ; and if they are sober, industrious, and frugal, 
 they soon become masters, establish themselves in business, 
 marry, raise families, and become respectable citizens. 
 
 Also, persons of moderate fortunes and capitals, who, 
 fiaving a number of children to provide for, are desirous of 
 bringing them up to industry, and to secure estates for 
 their posterity, have opportunities of doing it in America, 
 which Europe does not afford. There they may be taught 
 and practise profitable mechanic arts, without incurring- 
 disgrace on that account, but, on the contrary, acquiring 
 respect by such abilities. There small capitals laid out in 
 lands, which daily become more valuable by the increase of 
 people, afford a solid prospect of ample fortunes thereafter 
 for those children. The writer of this has known several 
 instances of large tracts of land, bought, on what was then 
 the frontier of Pennsylvania, for ten pounds per hundred 
 acres, which, "when the settlements had been extended far 
 
 2 G 
 
45G LN FORMATION TO THOSE 
 
 beyond them, sold readily, without any improvement made 
 upon them, for three pounds per acre. The acre in Arae-fc 
 rica 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 constitutions 
 of the several states, and the articles of confederation that 
 bind the whole together for general purposes, under th 
 direction of one assembly, called the congress. These 
 constitutions have been printed, by order of congress, in 
 America; two editions of them have also been printed in 
 .London ; and a good translation of them into French has 
 lately been published at Paris. 
 
 Several of the princes of Europe of late, from an opinion 
 of advantage to arise by producing all commodities and 
 manufactures within their own dominions, so as to dimi- 
 nish or render useless their importations, have endeavoured 
 to entice workmen from other countries, by high salaries, 
 privileges, &c. Many persons, pretending to be skilled in 
 various great manufactures, imagining, that America must 
 be in want of them, and that the congress would probably 
 be disposed to imitate the princes above mentioned, have 
 proposed to go over, on condition of having their passages 
 paid, lands given, salaries appointed, exclusive privileges 
 for terms of years, &c. Such persons, on reading the ar 
 ticles of confederation, will find, that the congress have no 
 power committed to them, or money put into their hands, 
 for such purposes; and that if any such encouragement is 
 given, it must be by the government of some separate 
 state. This, however, .has rarely been done in America; 
 and when it has been done, it has rarely succeeded, so as 
 to establish a manufacture, which the country was not yet 
 so ripe for as to encourage private persons to set it up ; 
 labour being generally too dear there, and hands difficult 
 to be kept together, every one desiring to be & master, and 
 
REMOVING TO AMERICA. 451 
 
 the cheapness of land inclining many to leave trades for 
 agriculture. Some indeed have met with success, and are 
 carried on to advantage : but they are generally such as 
 require only a few hands, or wherein great purt of the work 
 is performed 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 pro 
 fitable wherever there is a sufficient demand. The far 
 mers in America produce indeed a good deal of wool and 
 flax; and none is exported, it is all worked up; but it is 
 in the way of domestic manufacture, for the use of the 
 family. The buying up quantities of wool and flax, with 
 the design to employ spinners, weavers, &c. and form great 
 establishments, producing quantities of linen and woollen 
 goods for sale, has been several times attempted in dif 
 ferent 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 du 
 ties on importation of such goods, it has been generally re 
 fused, on this principle, that if the country is ripe lor the 
 manufacture, it may be carried on by private persons to 
 advantage ; and if not> it is a folly to think of forcing na 
 ture. Great establishments of manufacture require great 
 numbers of poor to do the work for small wages ; those 
 poor are to be found in Europe, but will not be found in 
 America, till the lands are all taken up and cultivated, and 
 the excess of people, who cannot get land, want employ 
 ment. The manufactnre of silk, they say, is natural in 
 France, as that of cloth in England, because each country 
 produces in plenty the first material : but if England will 
 have a manufacture of silk as well as that of cloth, and 
 France of cloth as well as that of silk, these unnatural 
 operations must be supported by mutual prohibitions, or 
 
 2 G 2 
 
452 INFORMATION TO THOSfi 
 
 Ligh duties on the importation of each other s goods ; by 
 which means the workmen are enabled to tax the homa 
 consumer by greater prices, while the higher wages they 
 receive makes them neither happier nor richer, since they 
 only drink more and work less. Therefore the govern 
 ments in America do nothing to encourage such projects* 
 The people, by this means, are not imposed on either by 
 the merchant or mechanic: if the merchant demands toa 
 much profit on imported shoes, they buy of the shoe-maker; 
 and if he asks too high a price,. they take them of the mer 
 chant : thus the two professions are checks on each other* 
 I ho shoemaker, however, has, on the whole, a considerable 
 profit upon his labour in America, beyond what he had in 
 Europe, as he can add to his price a sum nearly equal to 
 all the expenses of freight and commission, risque or in 
 surance, &c. necessarily charged by the merchant. And 
 the case is the same with the workmen in every other me 
 chanic art. Hence it is, that artisans generally live better 
 and more easily in America than in Europe ; and such as 
 are good economists make a comfortable provision for age, 
 and for their children. Such may, therefore, remove with 
 advantage to America. 
 
 In the old long-settled countries of Europe, all arts, 
 trades, professions, farms, &c. are so full, that it is difficult 
 for a poor man who has children to place them where they^ 
 may gain, or learn to gain, a decent livelihood. The ar- 
 tizans, who fear creating future rivals in business, refuse 
 to take apprentices, but upon conditions of money, main 
 tenance, or the like, which the parents are unable to com 
 ply with. Hence the youth are dragged up in ignorance of 
 every gainful art, and obliged to become soldiers, or ser 
 vants, or thieves, for subsistence. In America, the rapid 
 increase of inhabitants takes away that fear of rivalship, and 
 artizans willingly receive apprentices from the hope of profit 
 by their labour, during the remainder of the time itipv* 
 
REMOVING TO AMERICA. 453 
 
 fated, after they shall be instructed. Hence it is easy for 
 poor families to get their children instructed ; for the ar- 
 tizans are so desirous of apprentices, that many of them 
 will even give money to the parents, to have boys from ton 
 to fifteen years of age bound apprentices to them, til! 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 sub 
 sist the rest of their family by agriculture. These contracts 
 for apprentices are made before a magistrate, who regu 
 lates the agreement according to reason and justice, and, 
 having in view the formation of a future useful citizen, ob 
 liges the master to engage by a \vritten indenture, not only 
 that, during the time of service stipulated, the apprentice 
 shall be duly provided with meat, drink, apparel, washing, 
 and lodging, and at its expiration with a complete new 
 suit of clothes, but also, that he shall be taught to read, 
 write, and cast accounts ; and that he shall be well in 
 structed in the art or profession of his master, or some 
 other, by which he may afterwards gain a livelihood, and be 
 able in his turn to raise a family. A copy of this indenture 
 js given to the apprentice or his friends, and the magis 
 trate 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 em 
 ployed in working for them, induces them to pay the pas 
 sages of young persons, of both sexes, who, on their ar 
 rival, agree to serve them one, two, three, or four years; 
 those who have already learned a trade, agreeing for a 
 shorter term, in proportion to their skill, and the conse 
 quent immediate value of their service ; and those who have 
 none, agreeing for a longer term, in consideration of being 
 taught an art their poverty would not permit them to ac 
 quire in their own country. 
 
 The almost general mediocrity of fortune that prevails 
 
454 NEW SETTLEMENTS IN AMERICA. 
 
 ia America, obliging- its people to follow some business for 
 subsistence, those vices, that arise usually from idleness, 
 are in a great measure prevented. Industry and constant 
 employment are great preservatives ot the morals and vir 
 tue of a nation. Hence bad examples to youth are more 
 rare in America, which must be a comfortable considera 
 tion to parents. To this may be truly added, that serious 
 religion, under its various denominations, is not only tole 
 rated, but respected and practised. Atheism is unknown 
 there; infidelity rare and secret; so that persons may live 
 to a great age in that country, without having their piety 
 shocked by meeting with either an atheist or an infidel. 
 And the Divine Being seems to have manifested his appro 
 bation of the mutual forbearance and kindness with which 
 the different sects treat each other, by the remarkable 
 prosperity with which he has been pleased tp favour the 
 whole country. 
 
 TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN. 
 
 Concerning new Settlements in America. 
 
 MY LORD, Passy, March 17, 1783. 
 
 I received the letter your lordship did me the honour of 
 writing to me the 18th past, and am much obliged by your 
 kind congratulations on the return of peace, which 1 hope 
 will be lasting. 
 
 With regard to the terms on which lands may be ac 
 quired ,in America, and the manner of beginning new settle 
 ments on them, I cannot give better information than may 
 be found in a book lately printed at London, under some 
 such title as Letters from a Pennsylvania Farmer, by 
 Hector St. John. The only encouragement we hold out to 
 strangers are f a good climate t fertile soil, wholesome air 
 
THE ANCIENT JEWS, &c. 
 
 mnd water, plenty of provisions and food, good pay for 
 labour, kind neighbours, good laws, and a hearty welcome. 
 The rest depends on a man s own industry and virtue. 
 Lands are cheap, but they must be bought. All settle 
 ments are undertaken at private expense ; the public con 
 tributes nothing but defence and justice. I have long- ob 
 served of your people, that their sobriety, frugality, indus 
 try, and honesty, seldom fail of success in America, and of 
 procuring them a good establishment among us. 
 
 I do not recollect the circumstance you are pleased to 
 mention, of my having saved a citizen at St. Andrew s by 
 giving a turn to his disorder ; and I am curious to know, 
 what the disorder was, and what the advice I gave, that 
 proved so salutary.* With great regard I have the ho- 
 jiour to be, my lord, your lordship s most obedient and most 
 humble servant, 
 
 B. 
 
 A Comparison of the Conduct of the Ancient Jews, and of 
 the Antifederalists in the United States of America. 
 
 A zealous advocate for the proposed federal constitution 
 in a certain public assembly said, that " the repugnance ot 
 a great part of mankind of good government was such, that 
 be believed, that if an angel from heaven was to bring down 
 a constitution, formed there for our use, it would neverthe 
 less meet with violent opposition." He was reproved for 
 
 * It was a fever in which the Earl of Buchan, then Lord 
 Cadross, lay sick at St. Andrew s; and the advice was, not to 
 blister, according to the old practice and the opinion of the 
 learned Dr. Siinson, brother of fhe celebrated geometricirm 
 at Glasgow. 
 
456 THE ANCIENT JEWS, AND 
 
 the supposed extravagance of the sentiment, and he dicl 
 not justify it. Probably it might not have immediately oo 
 curred 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 au 
 thority 
 
 The Supreme Being had been pleased to nourish up a 
 single family, by continued acts of his attentive providence, 
 till it became a great people : and having rescued them 
 from bondage by many miracles, performed by his servant 
 Moses, he personally delivered to that chosen servant, in 
 presence of the whole nation, a constitution and code o 
 laws for their observance, accompanied and sanctioned with 
 promises of great rewards, and threats of severe punish 
 ments, as the consequence of their obedience or disobe 
 dience. 
 
 This constitution, though the Deity himself was to be at 
 its head (and it is therefore called by political writers a the* 
 ocracy) could not be carried into execution but by the 
 means of his ministers ; Aaron and his sons were therefore 
 commissioned to be, with Moses., the first established mi^ 
 uistry 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 op 
 posing the will of a powerful monarch, who would have re 
 tained that nation in slavery, might have been an appoint 
 ment acceptable to a grateful people ; and that a constitu 
 tion, framed for them by the Deity himself, might on that 
 account have been secure of an universal welcome recep 
 tion. 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. 
 
AMERICAN ANTIFEDEDRALISTS. 457 
 
 Many still retained an affection for Egypt, the land of 
 their nativity, and these, whenever they felt any inconveni 
 ence or hardship, though the natural and unavoidable effect 
 of their change of situation, exclaimed against their leaders 
 as the authors of their trouble: and were not only for re 
 turning into Egypt, but for stoning their deliverers.* 
 Those inclined to idolatry were displeased that their golden 
 call was destroyed. Many of the chiefs thought the new 
 constitution might be injurious to their particular interests. 
 that the profitable places would be engrossed by the J ami- 
 lies and friends of Moses and Aaron, and others, equally 
 well born, excluded.*}- In Josephus, and the Talmud, we 
 learn some particulars, not so fully narrated in the Scrip* 
 ture. We are there tuld, fl that Corah was ambitious of 
 the priesthood, and offended that it was conferred on 
 Aaron ;" and this, as he said, by the authority of Moses only t 
 without the consent of the people. He accused Moses of 
 having, by various artifices, fraudulently obtained the go 
 vernment, and deprived the people of their liberties, and of 
 conspiring with Aaron to perpetuate the tyranny in their 
 family. Thus, though Corah s real motive was the sup 
 planting of Aaron, he persuaded the people, that he meant 
 only the public good ; and they, moved by his insinuations, 
 began to cry out, " Let us maintain the common liberty of 
 pur respective tribes; we have freed ourselves from the 
 slavery imposed upon us by the Egyptians, and shall we 
 suffer ourselves to be made slaves by Moses ? If we must 
 
 * Numbers, chap. xiv. 
 
 t N umbers, chap. xvi. ver. 3. " And they gathered them 
 selves together against Moses and against Aaron, and said 
 unto them, ye take too much upon you, seeing all the con-. 
 gregations are holy, every one of them, wherefore then lift 
 ye up yourselves above the congregation." 
 
458 THE ANCIENT JEWS, AND 
 
 have a master, it were better to return to Pharaoh, who at 
 least fed us with bread and onions, than to serve this new 
 tyrant, who, by his operations, has brought us into danger 
 of famine." Then they called in question the reality of his 
 conference with God, and objected to the privacy of the 
 meetings, and the preventing any of the people from being 
 present at the colloquies, or even approaching the place, as 
 grounds of great suspicion. They accused Moses also of 
 peculation, as embezzling part of the golden spoons amd 
 the silver chargers, that the princes had offered at the de 
 dication of the altar,* and the offerings of gold by the com 
 mon people,f as well as most of the poll-tax ;J and Aaron 
 they accused of pocketing much of the gold of which he 
 pretended to have made a molten calf. Besides pecula 
 tion, they charged Moses with ambition ; to gratify which 
 passion, he had, they said, deceived the people, by pro 
 mising to bring them to a land flowing with milk and ho 
 ney ; instead of doing which, he had brought them from 
 such a land ; and that he thought light of all this michief, 
 provided he could make himself an absolute prince.\\ 
 That, to support the new dignity with splendour in his fa 
 mily, the partial poll-tax, already levied and given to, 
 Aaron,^ was to be followed by a general one,^f which would 
 probably be augmented from time to time, if he were suf 
 fered to go on promulgating new laws, on pretence of new 
 
 * Numbers, chap. vii. 
 
 t Exodus, chap. xxxr. ver. 22. 
 
 J Numbers, chap. iii. and Exodus, chap. xxx. 
 
 || Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 13. "Is it a small thing that 
 thou hast brought us up out of a land, flowing with milk and 
 honey, to kill us in this wilderness, except thou make thyself 
 altogether a prince over us?" 
 
 Numbers, chap. iii. 
 
 jj Exodus, chap, 
 
AMERICAN ANTIFEDERALISTS. 459 
 
 occasional revelations of the divine will, till their whole for* 
 tunes were devoured by that aristocracy. 
 
 JVloses denied the charge of peculation, and his accusers 
 were destitute of prooi s to support it : though facts, if real, 
 are in their nature capable of proof. " I have not," said 
 he (with holy confidence in the presence of God), " I have 
 not taken from this people the value of an ass, nor done 
 them any other injury." But his enemies had made the 
 charge, and with some success among the populace; for no 
 kind of accusation is so readily made, or easily believed, by 
 knaves, as the accusation of knavery, 
 , In fine, no less than two hundred and fifty of the princi 
 pal men, " famous in the congregation, men of renown,"* 
 heading and exciting the mob, worked them up to such a 
 pitch of phrenzy, that they called out, stone em, stone 
 em, and thereby secure our liberties; and let us choose 
 other captains, that may lead us back into Egypt, in case 
 we do not succeed in reducing the Canaanites. 
 
 On the whole, it appears that the Israelites were a peo 
 ple jealous of their newly-acquired liberty, which jealousy 
 was in itself no fault; but that, when they suffered it to bp 
 worked upon by artful men, pretending public good, with 
 nothing really in view but private interest, they were led to 
 oppose the establishment of the new constitution, whereby 
 they brought upon themselves much inconvenience ano! 
 misfortune. It farther appears, from the same inestimable 
 history, that when, after many ages, the constitution had 
 become old and much abused, and an amendment of it was 
 proposed, the populace, as they had accused Moses of the 
 ambition of making himself a prince, and cried out, stone 
 him, stone him; so, excited by their high-priests and 
 scribes, they exclaimed against the Messiah, that he aimed 
 
 Numbers, chap. xvi. 
 
460 FINAL SPEECH OF 
 
 at becoming king of the Jews, and cried, Crucify him, cru 
 cify him. From all which we may gather, that popular op- 
 position to a public measure is no proof of its impropriety t 
 ven though the opposition be excited and headed by men 
 of distinction, 
 
 To conclude, I beg I may not be understood to infer, 
 that our general convention was divinely inspired when it 
 formed the new federal constitution, merely because that 
 constitution has heen unreasonably and vehemently op 
 posed : yet, I mqstown, I have so much faith in the gene* 
 ral government of the world by Providence, that I can 
 hardly conceive a transaction of such momentous im 
 portance to the welfare of millions now existing, and to exist 
 in the posterity of a great nation, should be suffered to pass 
 without being in some degree influenced, guided, and go 
 verned by that omnipotent, omnipresent, and beneficent 
 Tuler, in whom all inferior spirits live, move, and have their 
 being. 
 
 final Speech of Dr. Franklin in the late Federal Con* 
 mention. 
 
 MR. PRESIDENT, 
 
 I confess that I do not entirely approve of this consti 
 tution at present : but, Sir, I am not sure I shall never ap 
 prove it ; for having lived long, I have experienced many 
 instances of being obliged, by better information, or fuller 
 consideration, to change opinions, even on important sub 
 jects, which I once thought right, but found to be other 
 wise. It is, therefore, that, the older I grow, the more apt 
 J am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect 
 to the judgment of others. Most men, indeed, as well as 
 most sects in religion, think themselves in possession of all 
 truth, and that whenever others differ from them, it is so 
 
DR. F RANKLlN. 461 
 
 for fcrror. Steel, a Protestant, in a dedication, tells the 
 pope, that " the only difference between our two churches, 
 in the opinions of the certainty of their doctrines, is, tho 
 Romish church is infallible, and the church of England 
 never in the wrong." But, though many private persons 
 think almost as highly of their own infallibility as of that ot 
 their sect, few express it so naturally as a certain French 
 lady, who, in a little dispute with her sister, said, I don t 
 know how it happens, sister, but I meet with nobody but 
 myself that is always in the right. // riy a que moi qui a 
 toujours raison. In these sentiments, Sir, I agree to this 
 constitution, with all its faults, if they are such, because I 
 think a general government necessary for us, and there is 
 no form of government but what may be a blessing, if well 
 administered ; and I believe farther, that this is likely to be 
 well administered for a course of years, and can only end 
 in despotism, as other forms have done before it, when the 
 people shall become so corrupted as to need despotic go 
 vernment, being incapable of any other. I doubt, too, 
 whether any other convention we can obtain, may be able 
 to make a better constitution. For when you assemble a 
 number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wis 
 dom, you inevitably assemble with those men, all their pre 
 judices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local 
 interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly 
 can a perfect production be expected I It therefore 
 astonishes me, Sir, to find this system approaching so near 
 to perfection as it does ; and I think it wiH astonish our 
 enemies, who are waiting with confidence to bear, that our 
 councils are confounded, like those of the builders of Ba 
 bylon, and that our states are on the point of separation, 
 only to meet hereafter for tho purpose of cutting each 
 other s throats. 
 
 Thus I consent, Sir, to this constitution, because I ex 
 pect no better, and because I am not sure, that this is not 
 
402 -FINAL SPEECH; &e. 
 
 the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice 
 to the public good. 1 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 partizans in support of them, we 
 might prevent its being generally received, and thereby 
 lose all the salutary effects and ^reat advantages resulting 
 naturally in our favour among foreign nations, as well as 
 among 1 ourselves, from our real or apparent unanimity. 
 Much of the strength and efficiency of any government, in 
 procuring and securing happiness to the people, depends 
 on opinion, on the general opinion of the goodness of that 
 government, as well as of the wisdom and integrity of its 
 governors* 
 
 I hope, therefore, that for our own sakes, as part of the 
 people, and for the sake of our posterity, we shall act 
 heartily and unanimously in recommending this constitu 
 tion, wherever our influence may extend, and turn our fu 
 ture thoughts and endeavours to the means of having it 
 well administered. 
 
 On the whole, Sir, I cannot hslp expressing a wish, that 
 every member of the convention, WHO ...ay still have objec 
 tions, would, with me, on this occasion, doubt a little of his 
 own infallibility, and, to make manifest our unanimity, put 
 his name to this instrument. 
 
 [The motion was then made for adding the last formula/ 
 \iz. 
 
 Done in convention, by the unanimous consent, &c. which 
 was agreed to, arid added accordingly.] 
 
Att ACCOUNT, &c. 
 
 A short but Comprehensive Account of all Arts and 
 Sciences, Printed by Dr. Franklin in a work called the 
 American Instructor, and supposed to be written by 
 himself, now first Published with his Works. 
 
 Alchymy, is that sublime part of chemistry, which 
 teaches the art of transmuting metals, and making- the grand 
 elixir, or philosopher s stone, as some are weak enough to 
 believe. But the best definition of it is, that it is an art 
 without art, which begins with lying, is carried on with la 
 bour, and ends with beggary. 
 
 Algebra, commonly called the analytic art, because it 
 teaches how to resolve questions, and demonstrate theo 
 rems, by searching into the fundamental nature and frame 
 of the thing. It is the science of quantity in general, or a 
 peculiar method of reasoning, which takes the quantity 
 sought, as if it were known, and then by the help of ano 
 ther, or more quantities given, proceeds by undeniable con 
 sequences, till at length the quantity fir^t only supposed to 
 be known, is found to be equal to some quantity or quan 
 tities certainly known. 
 
 Anatomy, is that art which teaches to dissect or take to 
 pieces any animal body, in a curious and dexterous man 
 ner, in order to discover and explain the original, nature^ 
 and use, of its several parts, for the improvement of physic 
 and natural philosophy. 
 
 Architecture, is the art of erecting edifices proper for ha 
 bitation. The ancients have established five orders of ar 
 chitecture, called the Tuscan, the Doric, the ionic, the 
 Corinthian, and the Composite or Roman order, the dif 
 ference between which orders consists in the column, with 
 its base and capital, and the entablature, that is, the archi- 
 
464 AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 trave, frieze, and cornice ; for these are the parts whicte 
 constitute the order, and each one hath its proper and pe 
 culiar measures. The rules of architecture require soln 
 dity, convenience, and beauty^ Solidity implies the choice 
 of a good foundation, and good sound materials to work 
 with* Convenience consists in so ordering and disposing 
 the parts of an edifice, that they may not hinder or em- 
 barass one another. Beauty is that due ranging and agree 
 able union and symmetry of all the parts, which, upon the 
 whole, exhibits to the eye of the spectators a beautiful 
 form and appearance. Architecture may likewise be di 
 vided into civil, military, and naval. Civil architecture 
 teaches to contrive and erect commodious buildings for the 
 uses of civil life ; such as churches, palaces, and private 
 houses. Military architecture shows the best way of raising 
 fortifications about cities, towns, camps, sea-ports, &c* 
 Naval architecture is employed about the building of ships, 
 galleys, and other vessels for the water, together with 
 ports, moles, docks, &c. on shore. 
 
 Arithmetic, is the art of numbering truly, and of finding 
 all the properties and powers of numbers. 
 
 Astrology, is that foolish science which pretends to fore- 
 tel future events from the motions of the heavenly bodies 
 and their aspects one to another ; or from some imaginary, 
 hidden qualities, which the weak admirers of this cheat will 
 have to be in the stars. 
 
 Astronomy, is a mathematical science, which teaches us 
 the knowledge of the stars or heavenly bodies, viz. their 
 magnitudes, distances, motions, and eclipses. 
 
 Book-keeping, is the art of keeping so distinctly all the 
 transactions of a man s business, that he may know at any 
 time the true state of his affairs with ease and certainty. 
 
 Botany, as it relates to the science of medicine, teaches 
 to discover and enumerate the several virtues of plants and 
 
1RTS AND SCIENCES. 405 
 
 fimples. As it relates also to natural history, it teaches to 
 distinguish the several kinds and species of plants, trees, 
 shrubs, 8tc. one from another, and to give just description 
 of them. 
 
 Chemistry teaches how to separate the different sub 
 stances that are found in mixed bodies, as animals, plants, 
 or minerals, and to reduce them to their first principles. 
 
 Chirology, the art of dumb language, or a method of 
 talking by signs made with the hands. 
 
 Chirurgery, or, as it is commonly written and pro 
 nounced, Surgery, is the third branch of the curative part 
 of medicine, and teaches how several diseases and accidents, 
 incident to the body of man, may be cured by manual ope 
 ration. It is divided by some into five parts. I. Syn 
 thesis, a setting together things that are separated. 2. 
 Diaeresis, a separating things that were before connected. 
 3. Diorthosis, a correcting of things squeezed together and 
 contorted. 4. Exasresis, the taking away of superfluities. 
 5. Anaplerosis, the restoring of that which was deficient. 
 It is a common saying, that a good surgeon should have au 
 eagle s eye, a lion s heart, and a lady s hand. 
 
 Chronology, is the art of computing time from the cre 
 ation of the world for historical uses, and preserving an ac 
 count of remarkable transactions, so as to date truly the 
 beginnings and the ends of reigns of princes, the revolu 
 tions of kingdoms and empires, signal battles, &c. 
 
 Cosmography, teaches to describe the whole frame of the 
 universe, with the several parts thereof, according to their 
 number, positions, motions, magnitudes, figures, &c. The 
 sciences of astronomy and geography are comprehended in 
 this. 
 
 Dialling, is the art of drawing lines on a given plane in 
 such a manner as to show the hour of the day when the sun 
 shine*. Papyrius Cursor set up the first suii-dial iu 
 
466 AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 about the year of the city 447 : and before that, according 
 to Pliny, there was no account of time, but the sun s rising 
 and setting. 
 
 Ethics, is the science of morality, by which we are taught 
 the rules and measures of human actions ; the writers upon 
 it usually divide it into two parts. The first contains an 
 account of the nature of moral good and evil ; the other 
 enumerates the several virtues in which the practice and 
 exercise of morality consists, and which are the proper means 
 for us to obtain true felicity, the end of all moral actions. 
 
 Geography, teaches to describe the whole globe of the 
 earth, and all its parts. It is usually divided into general 
 and particular. General, or universal geography, con 
 siders the whole entire globe of earth and water, as to its 
 figure, magnitude, motions, land, sea, &c. without any 
 regard to particular countries. Particular, or special 
 geography, considers the constitution of the several coun 
 tries, or regions, their figure, bounds, parts, &c. ; the fo 
 rests, mountains, mines, rivers, animals, plants, &c. ; as 
 also the climates, seasons, weather, heat, cold, distance, 
 from the equinoctial, &c. the inhabitants, arts, communi 
 ties, cities., commodities, foods, languages, customs, policy, 
 religion, &c. 
 
 Geometry, originally signifies the art of measuring the 
 earth, or any distances or dimensions on or belonging to 
 it : but it is now used for the science of quantity, extension, 
 or magnitude, abstractedly considered, without any regard 
 to matter. Geometry may be divided into four parts. 1 . 
 Planimetry jj or the mensuration of plain surfaces. 2. Alti- 
 metry, or the taking and measuring of heights, whether ac 
 cessible or inaccessible. 8. Longimetry, or the art of 
 taking the distances of things afar off, as steeples, houses, 
 trees, &c. 4. Stereometry, or the art of measuring solid 
 bodies. 
 
ARTS AND SCIENCES. 4(>7 
 
 Crammar} s th<? art of speaking or writing properly, or 
 of expressing the relation of things in construction, with duo 
 accent in speaking, and orthography in writing, according 
 to the custom of those whose language we learn. 
 
 Heraldry, is the art of armoury, or blazoning. It con 
 sists in the knowledge of what relates to royal solemnities, 
 cavalcades, and ceremonies at coronations, interviews of 
 kings, instalments, creation of peers, funerals, marriages, 
 Arc. and also in giving the proper coat-armour to all per 
 sons, regulating their right of precedency in point of ho 
 nour, and restraining those from bearing coat-armour that 
 have not a just claim thereto, &c. The herald s college is 
 a corporation established by Richard III. consisting of 
 kings at arms, heralds, and pursuivants, who are employed 
 to denounce war, proclaim peace, &c. 
 
 Hitsbandry, is the art of tilling or cultivating the earth, 
 in order to render ft fertile, and to assist nature in bringing 
 to greater perfection the products thereof. 
 
 Hydraulics, the, art of making alL sorts of engines to 
 carry or raise water, or which are moved by water, and 
 serve for other uses. 
 
 Hydrography, is that part of geography which consi 
 ders the sea, and teaches the art of making sea charts, mea 
 suring and describing the sea, accounting for. its tides, 
 counter-tides, currents, bays, soundings, gulfs; also its 
 sands, shallows, shelves, rocks, promontories, distances 
 from port to port, with whatsoever is remarkable either out 
 at sea, or on the coast. 
 
 Hydrostatics, is the doctrine of gravitation in fluids, or 
 that part of mechanics that considers the weight or gravity 
 of fluid bodies, especially water, and also of solid bodies 
 immerged therein. 
 
 IMW, applied to the several policies and states of ped- 
 pie, is the maxims and rules they have agreed upon, or re- 
 
468 AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 ceived from their magistrates, in order to live in peace afid 
 mutual society ; or it is a command or precept coming fron* 
 some superior authority, which an inferior is obliged to 
 obey. Aristotle defines it to be a declaration determined 
 by the common council of a city, showing in what manner 
 things are to be done ; but Chambers, in his dictionary, 
 thinks this is not so properly a law as a covenant. 
 
 Logic, is the art of conducting the understanding in the 
 knowledge of things, and the discovery of truth. Jt may 
 be divided into four parts, apprehension, judgment, dis 
 course, and method; as in order to think aright it is ne 
 cessary to apprehend, judge, discourse, and methodize 
 rightly. My Lord Bacon divides logic into four branches, 
 according to the end proposed in each ; for a man reasons 
 either to find what he seeks, or to judge of what he finds, 
 or to retain what he judges of, or to teach what he retains ; 
 and from hence arise so many arts of reasoning, viz. the 
 art of inquisition or invention, the art of examining or 
 judgment, the art of preserving or of memory, aiid the art 
 of elocution or delivering. 
 
 Mathematics, is the science of quantity, and compre* 
 bends whatever is capable of being numbered or measured. 
 It may be divided into speculative, which rests in the bare 
 contemplation of the properties of things; and practical, 
 which applies the knowledge of those properties to somp 
 uses in life, as in astronomy, architecture, geography, me 
 chanics, music, optics, perspective, &c. 
 
 Mechanics^ a mixed mathematical science, which con- 
 aiders the nature and Isiws of ino.tion and moving powers, 
 with the effects thereof in machines, &;c. 
 
 Metaphysics may be callecj the science of natural theo 
 logy ; it considers being in general, abstracted from all mat 
 ter, viz. the essence of it, which seems to have a real being, 
 it does not exist, as a rose in the depth of 
 
ART3 AND SCIENCES; 4C9 
 
 It is so sublime, or rather so abstruse a science", that there 
 is a great diflerence among authors about its nature and 
 ideas. 
 
 Music is the science of sound, or the art of disposing and 
 conducting sounds, of proportioning them among them 
 selves, and separating them by just intervals in such a man 
 ner, as to produce harmony and melody. 
 
 Navigation is the art of sailing or conducting a ship or 
 yessel from one place to another, the shortest and most 
 commodious way. It likewise comprehends the art of 
 building and loading of ships. 
 
 Optics is a mixed mathematical science, which explains 
 the manner wherein vision is performed in the eye, treats 
 of sight in general, gives the reasons of the several modifi 
 cations or alterations which the rays of light undergo in the 
 eye, and shows why objects at different distances, and, in 
 different situations, appear greater, smaller, more distinct^ 
 more confused, nearer, or more remote. 
 
 Painting is the art of representing natural bodies, and 
 giving them the appearance of life. It may be divided into 
 four parts, invention, design, disposition, and colouring. 
 
 Perspective is that, part of the mathematics which gives 
 rules for the representing of objects on a plain superficies, 
 after the same manner as they would appear to our sight, if 
 seen through that plain, it being supposed as transparent 
 as glass. 
 
 Poetry is the art of inventing and composing fables, 
 stories, allegories, &c. in verse. It is related to painting 
 as it describes the passions and manners of men ; and tq 
 music, as its style consists of numbers and harmony. 
 
 Philosophy is the knowledge or study of nature and mo 
 rality, founded on reason and experience. Philosophy 
 flwes its name to the modesty of Pythagoras, who refused 
 fhe title of wise giveu to his predecessors, and contented 
 
470 AN ACCOUNT, &c. 
 
 himself with the appellation of a friend, or ToVfr of wis 
 dom. 
 
 Physic, or Medicine, is the art of healing diseases. 
 According to Boerhaave, it consists in the knowledge ot 
 those things by whose application life is either preserved 
 healthy and sound ; or when disordered, again restored to 
 its health and vigour. 
 
 Physiognomy is the art of knowing, or rather gnessmg, 
 the humour, temper, or disposition of a person, by the 
 lines and characters of his face. 
 
 Rhetoric is the art of speaking in the most elegant and 
 persuasive manner ; or, as my Lord Bacon defines it, the 
 art of applying and addressing the dictates of reason to the 
 fancy, and of recommending them there so as to attack the 
 will and desires. 
 
 Sculpture is the art of cutting or carving wood, stone, 
 marble, &c. and of forming various figures and representa 
 tions therein, particularly of men, beasts, birds, &c. 
 
 Theology, or Divinity, is that science which instructs 
 us in the knowledge of God and divine things. It is ge 
 nerally divided into five parts. 1. Natural theology, is the 
 knowledge we have of God from his works by the light of 
 jiature and reason. 2. Supernatural theology, is that 
 which we learn from revelation. 3. Positive theology, is the 
 knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, and of the signification 
 thereof, conformably to the opinions of the fathers and 
 councils, without the assistance of any argumentation. 4. 
 Moral theology, is that which teaches the divine laws re 
 lating to our manners and actions. 5. Scholastic theo 
 logy, is that which proceeds by reasoning, and taking cer 
 tain established principles of faith for granted, from thence 
 deduces abundance of strange things, and has made a fine 
 piece of svork of it indeed. The ancients had a three-fold 
 theology: the first, fabulous, which^ flourished among the 
 
ARTS AND SCIENCES. 471 
 
 , and was chiefly employed in the genealogies of the 
 gods, &c. ; the second political, which was embraced by 
 the politicians, priests, and people, as most suitable and 
 expedient to the safety, quiet, and prosperity of the state; 
 the thiid natural, chiefly cultivated by the philosopher, as 
 most agreeable to nature and reason. This last acknow 
 ledged only one Supreme God. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Brightly and Child*, Printers, Butigay. 
 

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