-- m.

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY Gift of
William Smith Mason

¦^'¦i.i,CnJ'l^^ncdJ"<'- l"m6 hy T.JSnneril'T

'T^ME 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
?uithor. It is already known to many, that Dr. Eranklin amused
himself, towards the close of his life, with writing memoirs
of his own history. These memoirs were brought down
to the year 17.57^ Together with some other manuscripts!
they were left behind him at his death, and were considered
as Cohsiituting a part of his posthumous property.
The style of these memoirs is unconmionly pleasing.
The story is told with the most unreserved sincprity, and
without any false colouring or ornament. We see, ia
every page, that the author examined his subject with the
eye of a master, and related no incidents, the spring and
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 aa
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 g-^eat philoso
pher in bis relaxations, and observing in what respeets

ii PREFACE.
philosophy tends to elucidate and improve the most com
mon subjects.
It would be superfluous to pronounce any eulogium on
the character of this great man ;— or to attetapt 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 exceUent letters, 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 and the duty to communicate, in
compliance with your request, whatever, within 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. "I 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^
Lore 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 confidence in him.
" When he left Passy,' it seemed as if the village had
lost its patriarch. On taking leave of the court which he
did by letter, the king ordered him to be handsomely 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 humihty to me. On being pre
sented to any one, as the minister of America, the com
mon-place question was, ' c'est vous Monsieur, qui rem-
placez le Docteur Franklin ?' — is it you' sir, who replace
Dr, Franklin ? I generally answered — * No one can re
place him, sir ; I am only his successor.'
" I could here relate a number of those hon 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 httle before that time, Argand had invented his
celebrated lamp, in which the fiame is spread into a
liollow cylinder, and thus brought in contact with the air,
within as well as without. Dr. Franklin had been on the
point of the same discovery. The idea had occurred to
him; but he had tried a bullrush as a wick, which did not
succeed. His occupations did not permit him to repeat
and extend his trials to the introduction of a larger
column of air, than could pass through the stem of a bull-
tusb.

iv PREFACE.
" About that time also, the king of France gave him a
signal testimony of respect, bv joining him with some of
the most illustrious men of the nation, to examine that
ignus-fatuus of philosophy, the animal magnetism of the
,maniae Mesner; the pretended effects of which had asto
nished all Paris. From Dr. Frankliii's hand in conjunc
tion with his brethren of the learned committee, that com
pound ol fraud and folly was unveiled, and received its
death-wound. After this nothing very interesting was
before the public, either in philosophy or pohtics, during
his stay ; and he was principally occupied in winding up
his affairs, and preparing for his return to America.
" These small offerings l,o the memory of our great and
dear friend, (whom time will be making still greater, while
it is spunging us from its records) mustbe accepted by you.
Sir, in that spirit of love and veneration for him, in which
they are made ; and not according to their insignificancy
in the eyes of the world, which did not want this mite to
fill up the measure of bis worth.
" Hisdcath was an affliction which was to happen to us
at some time or other. We have reason to be thankful
he was so long spared ; that the most useful life should be
the longest also ; that it was protracted so far beyond the
ordinary span allotted to humanity, as to avail us of his
•wisdom and virtue, in the establishment of our freedom in
the west ; and to bless him with a view of its dawn in the
east, where men seemed till now to have learned every
thing— but how to be free."
The Doctor, in early life, was economical from princi
ple; in his latter days perhaps from habit. " Poor Richard"
held the purse strings of the president of Philadelphia ;
jfet the following anecdote, related by Dr. Underbill wiJi

PREFACE. V
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 ^aid 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 punciual 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
q-uarter 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, Frankhn caused a vacancy in
society which will not easily be occupied. By it mankind
•ost a benefactor, humanity a friend, and philosophy its
brio-htest 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

vi PREFACE.
an account of the death of our excellent friend. Dr. Franfc-
lin, and the circumstances attending it, deserves my parti
cular gratitude. The account which he has left ot his
Hfe will show, in a striking example, how a man, by talents,
industry, and integrity, may rise from obscurity to the first
eminence and consequence in the world ; but it brings his
history no lower than the year 1757. and I understand
that since he sent once the copy, which I have read, he
has been 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 nature, and
in looking forward to it, there is comfort in being able to
reflect — that we have ,not lived in vain, and that all the
useful and virtuous shall meet in a better country beyond
the grave.
" Dr. Franklin, in the last letter 1 received from him,
after mentioning his age and infirmities, observes, that it
has been kindly ordered by the Author of nature, that, as
we draw nearer the conclusion of life, we are furnished
with more helps to wean us from it, amongst which one of
the strongest is the loss of dear friends. I was dehghted
¦with the account you gave me in your letter of 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 him, — What a glori
ous scene is opened there ! The annals of the worid fur
nish no parallel to it. One of the honours of our departed
triend is, that he has contributed much to it.

CONTENTS.

Life of Dr. Franklin as written by himself - - 1
Continuation of his Life, by Dr, Stubor - - - 86
Extracts from his Will ---.„_ jg^
The Busy Body -- - _ . _ -j^o
The Way to Wealth  171
Advice to a Young Tradesman - - - - . iqq
Necessary Hints to those who would be Rich - - 182
The Way to make Money plenty in every Man's
Pocket - - - - _ _ 183
New Mode of Lending Money - - - „ _ i84
An Economical Project ----.. igS
The Whistle - -- - -.- „ -190
A Petition to those who have the Superinten-
dency of Education - - . _ 193
The Handsome and Deformed Leg - - ¦ . I94
Morals of Chess -----__ iqq
The Art of procuring pleasant dreams - - * . 20I
Effect of Early Impressions on the Mind - _ . 2OO
On Early Marriages ------_ 2O8
On the Death of Mr. John Franklin - - ¦ _ 2IO
The Ephemera an Emblem of Human Life - . 2II
Sketch of an English School - - - - _ 214
Advice to Youth ip Reading - - - ¦ . 221
An Allegorical Dream ----«_ 222
Two Letters to George Whately, 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 fo undertake a
Sea Voyage - - - . . 256
On the. Art of Swimming - - - - - . - 261
On the free use of Air ---... 268
Description of a new Musical Instrument - - - 269
On the best Medium for conveying Sound - . . 274
On the Harmony of the old Scotch Tunes - - - 276
Best Method of guarding against Lightning- - - 280
Tendency of Rivers to the Sea — Effect of the Sun's
R.\vs on Cloths of different Colours - 28-1

fl CONTENTS*
iEIectrical Kite  '289
On Lightning and Electriritv - - - . 290
Curious Effects of Oi! on Water - - - - P,03
On the stilling of Waves by means of Oil - 305
Extract of a Letter on the same - - - - 332
Number of deaths in Philadelphia by Inoculation ."JiG
Answer to the preceding - - . - - 317
Effects of Lead on the human constitution - - - 319
Observations on the prevailing doctrines of Life
and Death  322
On the Price of Com  224
On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry - " - 329
On Smuggling, and its various species . _ - 334
Observations on War ..-.-- 338 '
On the Slave Trade  340
The Court of the Press ^ . - - 344
.An address for the abolition of Slavery . _ . 343
Plan for improving the condition of the free Blacks - 350
Paper, a Poem - _ _ 352 ^
Plain Truth  . . 354
The Examination of Dr. 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 - - s- - 408
A Prussian Edict, assuming Claims over Britain - - 417
Parable against Persecution - - - 428
Criminal Laws, and the practice of Privateering - 424
Remarks concerning the Savages of North America - 431
The Internal State of America 1784 i - . 433 .-
Information to those who would remove to America " AAA _
Concerning New Settlements in America - 454
A Comparison of the Conduct of the ancient Jew,s, and
the Ant 1 federalists in Ajnerica - '¦ . 45S
Final Speech of Dr- Franklin, in the late Federal
Convention - -- - - -460
Short Account of th-j Arte and SciencBs - - , 403

THE LIFE

OF

Dr. Benjamin Franklin,

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

MY DEAR SON,
Jl HAVE amused myself with collecting some little
anecdotes of my family. Y ou may remember the enqui
ries I made, when you were with me in England, among
such of my relEttions 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 flie bosom
of poverty and obscurity, in which I drew my first breath,
and spent my earliest years, I have raided 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 Ufe to my present advanced age ; and my
descendants may be desirous of learning what were the
means of which I made use, and Avhich, thanks to the
assisting hand of Providence, have proved so eminently
B

2 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
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 feUcity 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 hfe. 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,
hkewise, 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 obhged to hsten to me ; as they will be at h-
berty to read me or not as they please. In fine — and I
may as well avow it, since nobody would beUeve 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 Avherever 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 hfe,
and give thanks to Providence for the blessing.

jgiFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 8
And here let me with all humility acknowleage, that to
divine Providence I am indebted for the felicity I 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 towai-ds 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 whi«h
I have derived many particulars respecting our ancestors.
From these I learn, that they had hved in the same -village
(Eaton, in Northamptonshire) upon a freehold of about
thirty acres, for the space at least of three hundred years.
How long they had resided there prior to that period, my
uncle had been unable to discover ; probably ever since the
institution of. surnames, when they took the appellation of
Franklin, which had formerly been the name of a 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. FRANKLIN.
eldest son having been uniformly brought up to this em
ployment : a custom which both he and my father 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, earher 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, countmg
five generations. My grandfather, Thomas, who was bom
m 1698, hved 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 ha-ving 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 tlie -village ; and was one of the chief movers of
every pubhc 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 enjoyino
the esteem and patronage of Lord Hahfax, he died

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. S
January 6, 1702, precisely four years befdre I was born.
The recital that was made us of his hfe 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,"
John, to the best of my belief, was brought up to th©
trade of a wool-dyer.
BenjajQgian served his apprenticeship in London, to a silk-
dyer, lie was an industrious man : I remember him well,
for, while I was a child, he joined my father at Boston,
and hved 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 hadj invented a short-hand, which he taught mej but
having 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
do-wn 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 tlie year 1641 to 1717. Many volumes
arc 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
margms. His grandson, Samuel, is now hving 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 Enghsh bible, and, to conceal it the more secure
ly, they conceived the project of fastening it, open, with
pack-threads across tlie leaves, on the inside of the lid of
the close-stool. When my great-grandfather -wished to
read to his family, he reversed the hd of the close-stool
upon his knees, and passed the leaves from one side to
the other, which were held down on each by^^e 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 hd 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, makmg in
all seventeen. I remember to iave 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 bom
at Boston, in New England. My mother, the second

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 7
wife, was Abiali 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 Enghsh-
Jnan," if^I rightly recollect his expressions. I have been
told ^of his having written a variety of httle 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 is in
tamihar verse agreeably to the taste of the times and the
country. The autho. 'addresses himself to the governors
for the time being, speaks for hberty 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 kno-wn 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 chaplam of

f^^.f^r^^*

* Town in the island of Nantaket.

8 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
the family. The promptitude -with which from my infancy
1 had learned to read, for I do not remember to have been
ever without this acquirement, and the encouragement of
his friends who assured hun, that I should one day certamly
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 mvention, if I would take the pains
to learn it.
f 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 therem no sort of progress.
At ten years of age, I was called home to assist my father
in his occupation, which was that of a soap-boiler and tal
low-chandler ; a business to which he^had served no appren
ticeship, but which he embraced on his arrival in New En->--
land, because he found his own, that of dyer, in too httle
request to enable him to maintain his family, I was accor
dingly employed in cutting the wicks, filhng the moulds ta
king care of the shop, carrymg messages, &c. ^
This business displeased me, and I felt a strong inchna-
tion for a sea hfe ; but my father set his face against it

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 9
The vicinity of the water, however, gave me frequent op
portunities of venturing myself botli 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 pubhc enterprises, though -ttie 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
ns 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 diUgently, 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 discover
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.nie, .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 that
when he sung a psalm or hymn, with the accompaniment ol
his violin, as was his frequent practice in an evening, when
the labours of the day were finished, it was truly dehghtful
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 sohd
judgment, in matters of prudence, both in pubhc and private
hfe. 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 wliich 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
wliich 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 kmd. Thus accustomed, from my infancy,
to tho utmost inattention as to tliese objects, I have been
perfectly regardless of what kind of food was before me ; and
I pay so httle 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 travelhng, 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. 11
taste have suffered in many cases considerable inconveni
ence ; while as to myself, I have had nothing to desire.
My mother was hkewise 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; tliey lived
" together with reciprocal affection for fifty-nine years ; and
" without private fortune, -without lucrative employment, by
" assiduous labour and honest industry, decently supported
" a numerous family, and educated, with success, thirteen
" children and seven grand children. Let this example,
" reader, encourage thee diligently to discharge the duties
" of thy calling, and to rely on the support of divine Provi-
" dence, " He was pious and prudent,
" She discreet and virtuous.
" Their youngest son, from a sentiment of filial duty,
" consecrates this stone
" to their memory."
I perceive, by my rambling digressions, that I am 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 my hfe : but my dislike of this occupaticn
continumg, my father was apprehensive, that, if a more
agreeable one were xicft 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-
tmies to see masons, coopers, braziers, joiners, and other
mechanics, employed at their work, ui order to discover
the bent of my mclination, and fix it if he could upon some
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 httle 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 earhest 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 Banyan's works, m small separate
volumes. These I afterwards sold in order |to buy an his
torical collection by R, Burton, which consisted of small
cheap volumes, amountmg in all to about forty or fifty.
My father's httle hbrary 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 father's books, Plutarch's Lives, in wliich
I read continually, and I still regard as advantageously em
ployed the time devoted to tliem, 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
ofthe 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 estabhsh a printing-
house at Boston, This business pleased me much better
thaii 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, bro.ther, I held back for some time ; at length
however, I suffered myself to be persuaded, and signed my
indentures, being then only twelve years of age. It was
agreed that I should serve as an apprentice to the age of
twenty-one, and should receive journeyman's wages only
during the last year, .,
In a very short time I made great proficiency in this 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
ofthe 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 I ' s
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 httle pieces.

14 LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN*
My brother thinking he might find his account in it, encou*
raged me, and engaged me to writo two ballads. • One,
called the Light-house Tragedy, contained an account of
the shipwreck of captam 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.
When 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
telUng 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 hfe, and principally contributed to my ad
vancement, I shall relate by what means, situated as I was,
I acquned the small skill I may possess in that way,.
There was in the town another young man, a great lover
of books, ofthe 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 ofthe 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, vhile I hved with my father,
books of religious controversy. I have since remarked,
that men of sense seldom fall mto this erroi- : lawyers, fellows
of universities, and persons of every profession educated
atf 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 m the sciences, and whether they were com
petent to the study, Colhns supported the negative, and
affirmed that the task was beyond then- capacity, I main-
ainedthe 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 hght upon my
papers and read them. Without entering into the merits of
the cause, he embraced the opportunity of speaking to me
upon my manner of writing. He observed, that though I
had the advantage of my adversary in correct spelling and
pointing, which I owed to my^occupation, I was greatly his
inferior in elegance of expression, in arrangement, and per
spicuity, Ofthis 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
fell into my hands. This was a publication I had never
seen, I bought the volume, and read it again and again.
I was enchanted with it, thought the style excellent, and
wished it were in my power to imitate it. With this view.
I selected some ofthe papers, made short summaries of
the sense of each period, and put them for a few days aside,
I then, without looking at the book, endeavoured to restore
the essays to their due form, and to express each thought at
length, as it was in the original, employing the most appro
priate words that occurred to my mind, I afterwards cora-
ared my Spectator with the origmal ; I perceived some

16 LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN,
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 behef, 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 arrangemenfof my thoughts. Oh 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 httle
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 Enghsh language, which was one ofthe 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 hved 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 tune to practise.
When about sixteen years of age, a work of Tryon's fell
into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable diet.
I determined to observe it. My brother being a bachelor,
did not keep house, but boarded -with his apprentices in a
neighbouring family. My refusing to eat animal food was

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 17
found inconvenient, and I was often scolded for my singula-
lity, I attended to the mode in which Tryon prepared
some of his dishes, particulariy liow to boil potatoes and
rice, and make hasty ptiddings. 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 mamtain myself. The off
er was instantly embraced, and I soon found that of what
he gave me, I was able to save half. This was a new fund
for the purchase of books, and other advantages resulted
to me from the plan. When my brother and his workmen
left the printing-house to goto dinner, I remained behind.
and dispatching my frugal meal, which frequently consisted
of a biscuit only, or a slice of bread and a b'Vinch of raisins,
or a bun from the pastry-cook's, with a glass of water, 1 had
the rest ofthe 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 ofthe
little geometry it contains, but I never proceeded far in this
science. Nearly at the same time, I read Locke on the
Human Understanding, and the Art of Thinking, by
Messrs. du Port Royal. '
While labouring to. form and improve my style, I met
with an Enghsh Grammar, which I beheve was Green
wood's, having at the end of it two little essays' ofi rhetoric
and logic. In the latter, I found a model of disputation,
after the manner of Socrates. Shortly after, I procured
Xcnophon's work, entitled Memorable Things of Socrates,
in which are various examples ofthe same method. Charm-
<;!l 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 Colhns had
made me a sceptic : and being previously so as to many
doctrines of Christianity, I found Socrates's method to be
both safest for myself, as well as the most embarrassing to
those agamst whom I employed it. It soon afforded me
singular pleasure ; I incessantly practised it : and became
very adroit in ^ob taming, even from persons of superior un
derstanding, concessions of which they did not foresee the
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 tlie 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 thejf 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 infoi-m,
a positive and dogmatical manner of advancing your opl-

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN, 19
nion may provoke contradiction, and prevent your beino-
heard with attention. On the other hand, if, with a desire
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 tanglit, as if you taught tliem uot,
And ttiings unknown propos'd — as tilings forgot.'
And in the same poem, he afterwards advises us
To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence.
He might have added to these fines, one that he has
coupled elsewhere, in my opinion, with less propriety. It
is this : For want of modesty is want of sense.
If you ask why I say -with less propriety, I must give you
the two lines together:
Immodest words admit of no defence,
For want of decency is want of sense.
Now want of sense, when a man has the misfortune to be
so circumstanced, is it not a kind of excuse for want of 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
lic paper. It was the second that made its appearance in
America, and was entitled, " The New England Courant."
The only one tliat existed before was the " Boston News

20 LIFE OF DR. FEANKLTN-
Letter." Some of his friends, I remember, would have
dissuaded him from this undertaking, as a thing that was
uot 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 oft".
Among hi,s friends he had a number of literaiy 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 tliey gave
of the favourable reception of their writings with the pub
ic. I was tempted to try my hand among tliem ; but, be
ing still a child as it were, I was fearful that my brother
might be un-willing 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
find that it met with their approbation, and that in the vari
ous conjectures they made respecting tho Author, no one
was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the
country for talents and genius. I now supposed myself
fortunate in my judges, and began to suspect that they were
not such excellent writers as I had hitherto supposed them.
Be this as it may, encouraged by this httle adventure, I
wrote, and sent to press m 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
nKide myself known.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 21
My brother, upon this discovery, began to entertain a
Cttle more respect forme ; but he still regarded himself as
my master, and treated me as an apprentice. He thought
himself entitled to the same services from me, as from any
other person. On the contrary, I conceived that, in many
instances, he was too rigorous, and that, on the part of a
brother, I had a right to expect greater indulgence. Our
disputes were frequently brought before my father ; and 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 beheve, to imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary
power, which during my whole hfe 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 I
presume, he would not discover the author. I was also
taken up, and examined before the council ; but though I
gave them no satisfaction, they contented themselves with
reprimanding, and then dismissed me ; considering me pro
bably as bound, in quality of apprentice, to keep my mas
ter's secrets.
The imprisonment of my brother kindled my rcsentmen/;
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 nie as a young wit inchned to satire
and lampoon.

82 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
My brother's enlargement was accompanied with an ar
bitrary order from the house ofthe 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 prmting-house, in or
der to determine what wq? 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 Frankhn ; and to
avoid the censure of the assembly, who might charge him
with still printing the paper himself under the name of his
apprentice, it was resolved that my old indentures should
be given up to me, with a full and entire discharge written
on the back, in order to be produced upon an emergency ;
but that, to secure to my brother the benefit of my service,
I should sign a new contract, which should be kept secret
during the remainder of the teim. 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 lo produce the new contract. Il
was undoubtedly dishonourable to avail myself of tins ch*-
cumstance, and I reckon this action as one of the first
errors of my life ; bul I was little capable of estimating it
al its true value, embittered as my mind had been by the
.i-ecollection of the blows I had received. Exclusivelv of
his passionate treatment of me, my brother was by no
means a man of an ill temper, and perhaps my manners
had loo much impertinence not to afford it a very natural
pretext. When he knew that it was my determination to quil him,
he wished to prevent my finding employment elsewhere.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 23
.He wenllo all the printing-houses in the town, and pre-
iudiced the masters against me-— who accordingly refused
to employ me. The idea then suggested itself lo me of go
ing to New York, the nearest lown 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. Il 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 disf ules upon
the subject of religion, I began to be regarded by pious
souls with hoiTor, either as an apostate or an atheist. I
came, tlierefore, to a resolution : but my father, in this in
stance siding with my brollier, 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 lo 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 httle 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. Wilham Bradford, who had been the first printer in
Pennsylvania, but had quilted that province on account of
a qiarrej with George Keith, the governor, He could

24 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 beheved that he would engage me.
Philadelphia was an hundred miles farther. I hesitated not
to embark m a boat in order to repair, by the shortest cut
of the sea, lo Amboy, leaving my trunk and effects lo come
after me by the usual and more tedious conveyance. In
crossing the bay, we met -with a squall, which shattered lo
pieces our rotten sails, prevented us from entering the Kill,
threw us upon Long Island.
During the squall, a drunken Dutchman, who hke 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 favoui-ite, Bunyan, in Dutch,
a beautiful impression on fine paper, with copper-plate en
gravings — a dress in which I had never seen il in its origi
nal language. I have since learned that il 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, findshimself admitted as ilwere
into the company, and present al the conversation. De
Foe has imitated it -with success in his Robinson Crusoe,
his MoU-Flanders, and other works ; as also Richardson in
his Pamela, &c.
In approaching the island, we found that we had made a
part of the coast where il was not possible to land, on ac
count ofthe 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. There were some canoes upon the bank, and
we called out to them, and made signs to prevail on them
to come and take us up ; but either they did not imdersland
us, or they deemed our request impracticable, and with
drew. Night came on, and nothing remained for us but lo
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: but
the wind abating the next day, we succeeded in reaching
Amboy before it -was dark, after having passed thirty
hours without provisions, and with no other drink than a
bottle of bad rum, the water upon which we rowed being
salt. In the evening I went to bed with a very violent
fever, I had somewhere read that cold water drank
plentifully, was a remedy in such cases, I followed the
prescription, was in a profuse sweat for the greater part of
the night, and the fever left me. The next day I crossed
the river in a ferry-boat, and continued my journey on foot.
I had., fifty miles lo walk, in order lo reach Burlington,
where I was told I should find passage-boats that would
convey me to Philadelphia, It rained hard the whole day,
so that I was wet to the skin. Finding myself fatigued
about noon, I stopped al 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 fio-ure, that I was suspected lo be some runaway servant.
This I discovered by the questions that were asked met

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
ney, and arrived in the evening at an inn, eight or ten miles
from Burlington, that was kept by one Dr. Brown.
This man entered into conversation with me while I took
some refreshment, and perceiving that I had read a little, he
expressed towards me considerable interest and friendship.
Our acquaintance continued duringlhe 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 Jiot give a particular account.
He was neither deficient in understanding or literature, but
he 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 pubhshed,
which it never was.
I spent the night at his house, and reached Burlington
the next mornuig. On my arrival, I had the mortification
to learn that the ordinary passage-boats had sailed a little
bisfore. 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 lo stay at Burhngton, and set up my trade ; but
she was httle aware of the capital that would be necessary
for such a purpose ! I was treated while at her house with
true hospitahty. She gave me with the utmost good-will
a dinner of beef-steaks, and would accept of nollhng in re,
turn but a pint of ale.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 27
Here I imagined myself to be fixed IjU the Tuesday in
the ensuing week ; but walking out in the evening by the
river side, I saw a boat with a number of. persons in it
approach. It was gomg lo Philadelphia, and the compa
ny look me in. As there was no wind, we could only
make way with our oars. About midnight, not perceiv
ing the lown, some of the company were of opinion that
we must have passed it, and were un-wilhng lo row any
farther ; the rest not knowing where we were, it was resolv
ed that we should slop. We drew towards the shore,
entered a creek, and landed near some old palisades, which
served us for fire-wood, il being a cold night in October.
Here we stayed till day, when one of the company found
the place in which we were lo be Cooper's creek, a little
above Philadelphia ; which in reality we perceived the mo
ment we were out ofthe creek. W^e arrived on Sunday
about eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and landed on
Market-street wharf.
I have entered into the particulars of my "voyage, and
shall in like manner describe my first entrance into this city,
that'you may be able lo 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 lo come by sea. I was covered
with dirt ; my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings ;
I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and
knew not where lo 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 shilhng's worth of coppers,
which I gave lo the boatmen 'for my passage. As I had
assisted them in rowing, they refused il 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-
(ceahng liis poverty.

28 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN,
I walked towards the top ofthe sti-eet, looking eagerly
on both sides, till I came to Market-street, where I met a
child -with a loaf of bread. Often had I made my diiuier
on dry bread. I inquired where he had bought it, and
went straight to the baker's shop which he pointed out lo
me. I asked for some biscuits, expecting to find such as
we had at Bostoil ; 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. I
was surprised at receiving so much ; I look them, however,
and having no room in my pockets, I walke'd on ^.ith a
roll under each arm, eating the third. In this manner I
went through Market-street lo 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. I then turned the corner, and went tlirough Chesnut-
strecl, eating my roll all the way ; and having made this
round, I found myself agam on Market-streel wharf, neai
the boat in which I arrived. I stepped into il lo take a
draught of the river water ; and finding myself satisfied
with my first roll, I gave the other two lo a woman and her
child, who had come down the river with us in the boat, and
was wahing to continue her journey. Thus refreshed, I re
gained the sti-eel, 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' meelmg-house near the market
place. I sal down -with the rest, and after lookino- round
me for some time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy
from my last night's labour and want of rest, I fell mto "a
sound sleep. In this state I continued till the assembly

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 29
dispersed, when one ofthe congregation had the goodness
to wake me. This was consequently the first house I enter
ed, or in which I slept, at Philadelphia.
I began again to walk along the sti-eet 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 him, and begged him to inform mc
where a stranger might find a lodgmg. We were then,
near the sign ofthe "three Marujers." 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, ui
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
turned, and I threw myself upon a bed without taking off
my clothes, and slept till six o'clock in the evening, when
I was called lo 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 civihty, and gave me some
breakfast ; but told me he had no occasion al present for
a journeyman, having lately procured one. He added,
that there was another printer newly settled in the town,
of the name of Keimer, who might perhaps employ me ;
and that in case of refusal, I should be welcome to lodge
at his house, and he would give me a little work now and
then, till something better should offer.
The old man offered to introduce me lo the new printer.
When we were at his house : " Neighbour," said he, " 1

so LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
bring you a young man in the printing business ; perhaps
you may have need of his services."
Keimer asked me some questions, put a composing stick
in my hand lo see how I could work, and then said, that at
present he had nothing for me lo do, but that he should
soon be able lo employ me. At the same lime 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 shortiy 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. 1 was
present, and heard it all. I instauly 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 lo 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. Keuner also made verses, but they were indifferent
ones. He could not be said to write in verse, for his
method was to set the lines as they flowed from his
muse ; and as he worked without copy, had but one set
of letter-cases, and the elegy would probably occupy all
his types, it was impossible for any one to assist him.
I endeavoured to put his press in order, which he had
not yet used, and of which indeed he understood nothing;
and having promised lo come and work off his elegy as
soon as it should be ready, I returned to the house of Brad-

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. ,-^1
ford, who gave me some trifle to do for thei present, for
which I had my board and lodffino-.
In a few days Keimer sent forme to print off his elegy.
He had now procured another set of letter-cases, and had
¦a pamphlet to re-print, upon wliich 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 littie 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 al 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
inthe streets.
From this period I began lo 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 lo be ignorant of
the place of my residence, except my friend Collins, to
whom I wrote, and who kept my secret.
An incident however arrived, which sent me home much
sooner than I had proposed, I had a brother-in-law, of
the name of Robert Holmes, master of a trading sloop from

32 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
Boston to Delaware. Being at Newcastle, forty miles be
low Philadelphia, he heard of me, and -wrorte lo inform me
ofthe chagrm which my sudden departure from Boston had
occasioned my parents, and of the affection which tiiey still
entertained for me, assuring me that, if I would retum, 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 convniced 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 il 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 al Philadelphia none bul very ignorant prin
ters, and that if I were to set up for myself, he had no
doubt of my success ; that, for his own part, he would
procure me all the public business, and would render me
every other service in his power. My brother-in-law relat
ed all this to me afterwards al Boston, bul I knew nolhins
of it at the lime ; when one day Keuner and I being at work
together near the mndow, we sa^Tthe governor and another
gentleman, colonel French, of Newcastle, handsomely dres
sed, cross the sti-eet, and make directly for our house. We
heard them at the door, and Keimer beheving it lo be a
visit to hhnself, went immediately down : but the governor
inquired for me, came up stairs, and, with a condescension
and politeness to which I had nolal aU been accustomed,
paid me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with-
me, obhgingly reproached me for not having made myself
known to him on my arrival in the lown, and wished me
to accompanv lum to a tavern, where he and colonel

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 33
Fi'ench 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 comer of Third-
street, where, while we were drinking the Madeira, he
proposed lo me to estabhsh a printing-house. He set
forth the probabihties of success, and himself and colonel
French assured me that I should have their protection and
influence in obtaining the printing of the pubhc papers oi
both governments ; and as I appeared to doubt whether
my father would assist me in this enterprize. Sir Wilham
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 retum 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 in-vite me to
. dine with him, I considered this as a very great honour ;
and I was the more sensible of il, as he conversed with me
in the most affable, famihar, and Jriendly manner imagina
ble. Towards the end of April 1724, a small vessel was rea
dy to sail for Bo.t;ton, I took leave of Keimer, 'upon the
pertext of going lo see my parents. The governor gave
me a long letter, in which he said many flattering things of
me to my father ; and strongly recommended the project of
my settling at Philadelphia, as a thing which could not fail
to make my fortune.
Going down the bay we struck on a flat, and sprung 9
leak. The weather was very tempestuous, and we were
obliged to pump without intermission; I topk my tara.

34 LIFE OP 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
rclatioHS,"during that interval, had received no intelhgence
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 me again, and, except my brother, welcomed me
home. I went to him in the printing-house. I was better
dressed then I had ever been while in his service : I had a
complete suit of clothes, new and neat, a walch in my poc
ket, and my purse was furnished -with neai'ly 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 hkcd 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 handfuU of silver, which I drew
from my pocket . This was a curiosity to which they were
not accustomed, paper being the current money at Boston.
I failed not after this to let them see my watch ; and at last
my brother continuing sullen and out of I'<-iUour, I -"-ave
them a shilhng to drink, and took my leave. This visit
slung my brother to the soul ; for when, shortly after, my
mother spoke lo 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 ibro-ive 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 liim
if he knew Keith, and what sort of a man he was : addin"
that, in his opinion, it proved very little discernment to

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 he could m favour of
the scheme ; bul my father firmly maintained its absurdity
and at last gave a positive refusal. He wrote, however,
a civil letter to Sir Wilham, thanking him for the protec-r
tion he had so obhgingly offered me, but refusing to assist
me for the present, because he thought me too young to
be entrusted ,wilh the conduct of so important an enters
prise, and which would require so, considerable a sum ot
money. My old comrade Colhns, 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 wail for me.
My father, though he could not approve Sir Wil-
uam's proposal, was yet pleased that I had obtained so ad
vantageous a recommendation as that of a person of his
rank, and thai 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 lo 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 loo niuch inclined : adding, that
with perseverance and prudent economy, I might, by the
time I became of age, save> enough lo estabhsh 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
fling presents, in token of friendship from him and my mo-

3f> LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
ther. I embarked once more for New York, furnished al
this lime 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
theVe, and was married. He had always been attached to
me, and he received me with great affection. One of his
friends, whose name was Vernon, having a debt of about
thirty-six pounds due to him in Pennsylvania, begged me
to receive it for him, and to keep the money tiU I should
hear from him : accordingly he gave me an order for that
purpose. This affair occasioned me, in the sequel, much
uneasiness. At Newport we took on board a number of passengers ;
among whom were two young women, and a grave and
sensible quaker lady with her- servants. I had shown an
obhging forwardness in rendering the quaker some trifling
services, which led her, pi'obably, to feel an interest in my
¦welfare ; for when she saw a famiharity take place, and
every day increase, between the two young women and me,
she look me aside and said : " Young man, I am in pain
for thee. Thou hast no parent lo watch over thy con
duct, and thou seemest lo be ignorant of the world, and
the snares lo 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, lo form no connection with them." As I ap
peared al 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 its
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 lo 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 lime 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 mth him almost all my lei
sure hours. He was then a sober and industrious lad ;
his knowledge had gained him a very general esteem, and
he seemed to prornise lo malce 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 obhged to pay his
expences at the inn, and lo maintain him during the rest
of his journey ; a burthen that was very inconvenient to
me. The governor of New York, whose name was Burnet,
hearing the captain say, that a yoimg man who was a
passenger in his ship had a great number of books, beg
ged him to bring me lo his house. I accordingly went,
and should have taken Collins with me, had he been sober.
The governor treated me with great civility, shewed me
his hbrary, which was a very cotisiderable one, and wo

38 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
talked for some time upon books and authors. Th>s wa»
the second governor who had honoured me with his at
tention, and to a poor boy, as I was then, these httle 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.
Colhns 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. Knowmg that I had Vernon's iftoney,
he was continually asking me to lend him some of it, pro
mising to repay me as soon as he shBuld gel employment.
At last he had drawn 'so much of this money, that I was
exfremely alarmed at what might become of me, should he
fail to make- good the deficiency. His habit of drinkino-
did not al all diminish, and was a frequent source of dis •
cord between us ; for wheii 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 liis turn in
rowing. " You shall row for me," said he, " till we get
home. "---" No," I replied, " we will not row for you. " 
" You shaU," said he, "or remain upon the water all night. "
" As you please". — "• Let us row," said the rest of the com
pany ; " what signifies whether he assists or not. " But, al
ready angry with hirn 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
tln-ew 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 wero

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 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
suffocated with rage, but obstinately refused making any
promise to row. Percei-ving, 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. Tho
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 'ffe owed me with the first money he
should receive ; but I have heard nothing of him since.
The violation ofthe trust reposed in me by Vernon, was
one ofthe 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 Wilham, upo-i reading his letter,
thought him too prudent. There was a difference, he
said, between individuals : years of maturity were not al
ways accompanied with discretion, neither was youth in
everv instance devoid of il. " Since your father," added
he, " will not set you up in business, I -will do il 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 cordiahly, that I suspected not for an instant the
sincerity of the offer. I had hitherto kept the project, with
which Sir William had inspired me, of settling in business,
a secret al Philadelphia, and 1 still contmued lo do so.
Had my rehance on the governor been known, some friend
better acquainted with his chgiracter than myself, would

40 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
doubtless have advised me not to trast hun ; for 1 after
wards learned he was universally known to be liberal of
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 beheved hun to be the
best man in the -world.
I gave him an inventory of a small printing-office, the
eipence of which I bad calculated at about a hundred
pounds sterling. He expressed his approbation ; but ask
ed, if my presence in England, that I might choose the
fcharaclers 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 statioffers 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
Colhns had drawn from me, and almost in continual agony
at the thoughts of Vernon, who foi'tunately made no de
mand of his money till several years after.
In the account of my first voyage from Boston to Phila
delphia, I omitted, I believe, a.triflirig 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
nijmber. I had hitherto adhered to my resolution of not
eating any thing that had possessed life ; and I considered
on this occasion, agreeably to the maxims of my master
Tryon, the capture of every fish as a sort of murder, com
mitted without provocation, since these animals had neither
done, nor were capable of doing the smallest uijury to any

LIFE OF DR, FRAN KLIN, 41
(»ne 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 flavomr
dehcious, I hesitated some time between principle and
inclination, till at last recollecting, that when the cod had
been opened, some small fish were found in its belly, I said
to myself, if you eat one another, I see no reason why we
may not eat you, I accordingly duied on the cod with no
small degree of pleasure, and have since continued to eat
like the rest of mankind, reluming 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 estabhshment.
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 frequentiy puzzled him by my questions, which
appeared al first very distant from the point in debate, yet
nevertheless led lo 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 famihar
question without previously asking me — What would you
infer from that ? Hence he formed so high an opinion of my
talents f'or refutation, that he seriously proposed to me to
become his colleague in the estabhshment of a new religious
sect. He was to propagate the doctrine by preaching, and
I lo refute every opponent.
When he explained to me his tenets, I found many ab
surdities which I refused lo admit, unless he would agree
ip turn to adopt some of my opinions. Keimer wore his
beard long, because Moses had somewhere said, " Tho«

42 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
shall 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 lo support it." I assured him on the contrary, he
would find himself the better for it. He was naturally a
glutton, and I wished lo amuse myself by starving him.
He consented lo make trial ofthis regimen, if I would
bear him company ; and in reality we continued it for three
months. A woman in the neighbourhood prepared and
brought us our victuals, to whom I gave a list of fort}
dishes ; in the composition of which there were entered
neither flesh nor fish. This fancy was the jnore agreeable
to me as it'turned to good account ; for the whole expence
of our hving 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 lo regard as of no impor
tance the advice commonly g^ven, of inti'oducing graduaU
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 o(
Egypt. At length he ordered a roast pig, and invited me
and two of our female acquaintance lo dine with him ; but
the pig being ready a httle loo soon, he could not resist the
temptation, and eat it all up before we arrived.
During tiie circumstances I have related, I had paid
some attentions to Miss Read. I entertained for her the
utmost esteem and affection ; and I had reason to believe
that these sentiments were mutual. But we were both
young, scarcely more than eighteen years of age ; and as I
yvjts on the point of undertaking a long voyage, her mother
tliought it prudent to prevent matters being carried too far

LtPE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 43
for the present, judging that, if marriage was our object,
there would be more propriety in il after my return, -when,
as at least I expected, I should be estabhshed in my busi
ness. Perhaps, also, she thought my expectations were
not so well founded as I imagined.
I My most intimate acquaintance at this time were Charles
Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph : young men
who -were all fond of reading. The two first were clerks
to Mr. Charles Brockdon, one of the principal attornies in
the town, and the other clerk to a merchant. Watson
was an upright, pious, and sensible young man : the others
were somewhat more loose in their principles of religion,
particularly Ralph, whose faith, as well as that of Collins,
I had contributed to shake ; each of whom made me suffer
a very adequate punishment. Osborne was sensible, and
sincere and affectionate in his friendships, but too much
inclined to the critic in matters of hterature. Ralph was
ingenious and shrewd, genteel in his address, and ex
tremely eloquent. I do not remember to have met with a
more agreeable speaker. They were both enamoured of
the muses, and had already evinced their passion by some
small poetical productions.
It was a custom with us to take a charming walk on
Sundays, in the woods that border the Skuylkil, Here we
read together, and afterwards conversed on what we read.
Ralph was disposed to give himself up entirely to poetry.
He flattered himself that he should arrive at great emi
nence in Hhe art, and even acquire a fortune. The sub-
limesl poets, he pretended, when they first began lo 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 lo 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 lo be employ.

44 LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN,
ed as a factor ; and may thus, in time, acquu-e the meai«
of setting up for yourself." I concurred m these senti
ments, but at the same time expressed my approbation of
amusmg ourselves sometimes with poetry, with a view to
improve our style. In consequence ofthis 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 agreemg that our task should be a version
ofthe 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 tho
task, had done nothing. He shewed me his piece, and
asked me what I thought of it. I expressed myself in
terms of warm approbation ; because it really appeared to
have considerable merit. He then said, " Osborne will
never acknowledge the smallest degree of excellence in
any production of mine. Envy alone dictates to him a
thousand animadversions. Of you he is not so jealous : I
wish, therefore, you would take the verses, and produce
them as your own. I will pretend not to have had leisure
to -write any thing. We shall then see in what manner he
will speak of them." I agreed to this little artifice, and
immediately transcribed the verses to prevent all suspicion.
We met. Watson's performance 'was the first that was
read ; it had some beauties, but many faults. We next
read Osborne's, which was much better, Ralph did it
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;
seemed as if I wished to be excused ; pretended that I had

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 45
had oo 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
tlian he was able to write.
When Osborne was alone with 'me, 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 constmi-
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 writhes !"
At our next meeting Ralph discovered the trick we had
played Osborne, who was ralhed without mercy.
By this adventure Ralph was fixed in his determination
of becoming a poet. I left nothing unatlempted to divert
him from his purpose ; bul 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 ; bul as I shall probably have no farther occasion
to mention the other two, I ought lo observe here that
Watson died a few years after in my arms. He was greatly
regretted, for he was the best of our society. Osborne
went to the islands, where he gained considerable 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
has nefer fulfilled his engagement.

46 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
The governor appeared to be fond of my company, and
frequentiy mvited me lo his house. He always spoke of
his intention of seltiing 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 lo 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 Wilham'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 do\vn at New
castle before the vessel, and that the letters would be de
hvered lo 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 estabhshing 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 tiie 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
ia affairs of the utmost importance, but that he would send
the letters on board, and that he wished mc, with all his
heart, a good voyage and speedy return. I returned.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 47
somewhat astonished, lo the ship, but still without enter
taining the shghtest suspicion.
Mr. Hamilton, a celebrated barrister of Philadelphia,
had taken a passage to England for himself and his son,
and, in conj unctiori with Mr. Denham, a quaker,and Messrs.
Oniam and Russel, proprietors of a forge in Maryland,
had agreed for the whole cabin, so that Ralph and I were
obhged to tiike up our lodging with the crew. Being un
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 j,ust as we were about lo
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 pu-t together in the
bag, which he could not open at present ; bul 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. Denham
contracted a friendship for me, wliich ended only with thi.?
life : in other respects the voyage was by no means an
agreeable one, as we had much bad weather.

48 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 I
selected six or seven, which I judged from the direction to
be those that were intended for me ; particularly one to Mr.
Basket the king's printer, and another lo a stationer, who
was the first person I called upon. I dehvered him the
letter as coming from governor Keith. " I have no ac
quaintance" (said he) " with any such person ;" and open
ing the letter, " Oh, it is from Riddlesden I" he exclaimed.
" I have lately discovered him lo be a very arrant knave,
and wish to have nothing to do eillier with him or his let
ters.'' He instantly put the letter into my band, turned
upon his heel, and left me, to serve some customers.
I was astonished at finding these letters were not from
the governor. Reflecting, and putting circumstances 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 ha-ving 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 lake, headvised me lo ti-y lo 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 tiie more advahlageously when you
return to America. "
W^e knew already, as well as the stationer, attorney Rid
dlesden to bfe a knave. He had nearly ruined the father
of Miss Read, by drawing him in to be his security, Wc
learned from his letter, that he was secretly carrying on an
intrigue, in concert with- the governor, to the prejudice of

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 49
Mr. Hamilton, who it was supposed would by this tune be
in Europe. Denham, who was Hamilton's friend, was of
opinion that he ought to be made acquainted with it ; and
in reality, the instant he arrived in England, which was
very soon after, I waited on him, and, as much from good
will to him, as from resentment agaiust the goyernor, 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-
prielaiies, 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 look
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 lo 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 lo 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; bul Wilkes, to whom
he apphed, frankly advised him lo renounce the idea, as it
was impossible he .should succeed. He next proposed to
E

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 hsten. 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 lo myself, I immediately got engaged at Palmer's,
at that time a noted pruiter in Bartholomew-close, with
whom I continued nearly a year. I applied very assidu
ously lo 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, wc lived after this from hand to mouth. He ap
peared to have entirely forgotten his wife aiid child, as I
also, by degrees, forgot my engagements with Miss Read,
to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that
merely lo inform her that I was not likely to return soon.
This was another grand error of my life, which I should bs
desirous of coiTecting were I to begin my career again.
I was employed at Palmer's on the second edition ot
Woolaslon's Rehgion of Nature. Some of his arguments
appearing to me not lo be well-founded, . I wrote a small
metaphysical treatise, in which I animadverted on those
passages. Il was entitled a " Dissertation on Liberty
afid Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I dedicated il to my
friend Ralph, and printed a small number of copies. Pal
mer upon this treated 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 Wilcox, whose shop was
next door to me. Circulating libraries were not then ia
use. He had an immense collection of books of all sorts.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 5l
We agreed that, for a reasonable retribution, of which I
have now forgotten the price, I should have free access to
his hbrary, and take what books I 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 falhng into the hands of a surgeon, of the
name of Lyons, author of a book entitled, " Infalhbilily 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 ofthe Fable ofthe Bees, who had instituted a club
al a tavern in Cheapside, of which he was the soul : he
was a facetious and very amusing character. He also
introduced me, at Batson's coffee-house, lo 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 ^
tl^e 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 lo his house in Blooms-
bury-square, where, after showing me every thing that was
curious, he prevailed on me to add this piece to his collec
tion ; for which he paid me very handsomely.
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 inlunale. She took another lodging, and he
followed her. They hved for some time together ; but
Ralph being without employment, she having a child, and
the profits of her business not sufficing for the maintenauge
E 2

52 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN,
of three, he resolved to quil 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 iu
arithmetic and accounts. But considering the office as
beneath him, and expecting some day to make abetter
figure in the worid, when he should be ashamed of its be
ing known that he had exercised a profession so littie ho
nourable, he changed his name, and did me the honour to
assume mine. He wrote lo me soon after his departure,
mforming 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 composuig, and which
he begged of me to criticise and correct. I did so, bul
not without endeavouring to prevail on hira to renounce
this pursuit. Young had just pubhshed one of his Satires.
I copied .and sent him a great part of il ; in which the au
thor demonsti-ates 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 hii poem
Gontinued to arrive every post.
Meanwhile Mrs, T*** having lost, on his account, both
her friends and her business, was frequently in distress. In
this dilemma she had recourse to me ; and to extricate her
from difficulties, I lent her all the money I could spare. I
fell a little too much fondness for her. Having at that time
no lies of religion, and taking advantage of her necessitous
situation, I attempted liberties, (another error of my hfe,)
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 obhgations
he owed me as annihilated by this proceeding • whence 1

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.

'^ii

concluded that I was never to expect the payment of what
money I had lent him, or advanced on his account. I wasi
the less afflicted at this, as he was wholly unable to pay me ;
and as, by losing his friendship, I was reheved at the same
time from a very heavy burden.
I now began to think of laying by some money. The
printing-house of Walts, near Lincoln's-Inn Fields, being
a still more considerable one than that in which I worked,
it was probable I might find it more advantageous to be
employed there. I offered myself, and was accepted ; and
in this house I continued during the remainder of my stay
in London,
On my entrance I worked at first as a pressman, 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 al the press, I drank nothing
but water. The other workmen, to the number of about
fifty, were great drinkers of beer. I carried occasionally
a large form of letters in each hand, up and down stairs,
while the rest employed both hands to carry one. They
were surprised to see, by this and many other examples,
that the American Aquatic, as they used lo 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 ciistom appear
ed to me abominable ; but he had need, he said, of all this
beer, in older to acquire strength to work,
I endeavoured to convince him that the bodily strength
'umished by the beer, could only be in proportion lo the
sohd part of the barley dissolved in the water of which the
beer was composed ; that there was a larger portion of flour

54 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
m a penny loaf, and that consequcntiy if he ate this loaf, and
drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more strength
from it than from a pint of beer. This reasoning, however,
did not prevent him from drinking his accustomed quantity
of beer, and paying every Saturday night a score of four or
five shillings a week for this cursed beverage ; an expence
from which I was wholly exempt. Thus do these poor 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 quilted 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
maUce could suggest was left unpractised upon me. 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 al last obliged to submit to pay,
notwithstanding the protection ofthe master ; convinced or
the folly of not keeping up a good understanding with
those among whom we are destined lo live.
After this I lived in the utmost harmony with my fellow-
labourers, and soon acquired considerable influence among
them. I proposed some alterations in the laws of the 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

* Printing houses in general are thus denominated by the
workmen : jbe spirit they call by tiie name of Raljih,

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 55
toasted bread and nutmeg. Tliis was a much bolter break-
fesl, which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely,
tiiree halfpence, and al the same time preserved the head
clearer. Those who continued to gorge themselves witii
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, lo lake up the little sum which I had made
myself answerable for; and which sometimes amounted to
nearly thirty shillings a week.
This circumstance, added to my reputation of being a
tolerable good gabber, or, in other words, skilful in the art
of burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. I had
besides recommended myself to the esteem of my master
by my assiduous application to business, never observing
Saint Monday. My extraordinary quickness in composing
always procured me such work as was most urgent, and
which is commonly best paid ; and tiius 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, lo inquire into my character, she
ao-reed to take me in al the same price, three and sixpence
a week ; contenting herself, she said, with so littie, 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 clero-yman. She had been educated a Protestant ;
but her husband, whose memory she highly revered, had
converted her to the Catliolic religion. She had lived ui

5(i LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
habits of intimacy with persons of distinction ; of whom she
knew vai ious anecdotes as far back as the time of Charles
II. Being subject to fits of the gout, which often confined
her to her room, she was sometimes disposed lo see com
pany. Hers was so amusing to me, that I was glad lo
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 httle 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 Avith her, during the remainder of my abode in
London, al eighteen pence a week.
In a garret of the house there hved, in the most retired
manner, a lady seventy years of age, of vi^hom I received
the following account from my landlady. She was a Ro
man Catholic. In her early years she had been sent lo the
continent, and entered a conveni with the design of becom-
uig a nun ; bul 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 hfe, in as rigid a manner as circumstances would
pernut. She accordingly disposed of all her property to
be applied to charitable uses, reserving to herself only
twelve pounds a year ; and ofthis small pittance she ga^ e
a part to the poor, hving on water gruel, and never making
use of fire bul to boil it. She had lived in this garret a
great many years, witiiout paying rent to the successive
Catholic inhabitants that had kept tlie house ; who indeed
considered her abode with them as a blessing. A priest
came every day to confess her. "I have asked her,"

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN* 57
said my landlady, " how, living as she did, she could find
so much employment for a confessor?" To which she an
swered, that il 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, bul she had never experienced
sickness ; and I may adduce her as another proof how little
is sufficient lo 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 thera 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 lo see the
College, and Don Soltero's curiosities. On our retum, at
the request of the company, whose curiosity Wj'gate 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 lo whom it was new. In my youth I took
great delight in this exercise. I kncAV, and could execute,
all the evolutions and positions of Thevenot ; and I added
to them some of ray own invention, in which I endeavoured
to knite gracefulness and utility. I took a pleasure in di**

oS LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
playing them all on this occasion, and was highly flattered
with the admiration they excited.
Wygate, besides his bemg desirous of perfecting himself
in this art, was the more attached to me from their being,
UI 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 al the same lime by work-
Lig at our profession. I was on the poml of consenting,
when I mentioned ilto my friend Mr. Denham, with whom
I was glad to pass an hour whenever I had leisure. He
dissuaded me from the project, and advised me lo think of
returning lo 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,
he compounded -with his creditors, and departed for Ame
rica, where, by assiduous application as a merchant, he ac
quired in a few years a very considerable fortune. Re
turning lo England in the same vessel -with myself, as I have
related above, he invited all his old creditors to a feast«
When assembled, he thanked them for the readiness with
which they had received his small composition ; and, while
they expected nothing more than a simple entertainment,
each found under his plate, when it came to be removed,
a draft upon a banker for, the residue pf his debt, with
interest. He told me that il was his intention lo cai-ry back with
him to Philadelphia a great quantity of goods, in order to
open a store ; and he offered to take me with him in the
capacity of clerk, to keep his books, in which he would 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 lo the American
islands, and by procuring me other lucrative commissions;

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 69
so that, with good management and economy, I might ia
time begin business with advantage for myself.
I rehshed these proposals. London began to tire me ;
the agreeable hours I had passed at Philadelphia present
ed themselves lo my mind, and I wished to see them re
vive. I consequently engaged myself to Mr. Denham, at
a salary of fifty pounds a year. This was indeed less than
I earned as a compositor, but then I had a much fairer
prospect. I look leave therefore, as I beheved for ever,
of printing, and gave myself op entirely to my new occu
pation, speiKling all my time either in going from house to
house' with Mr. Denham to purchase goods, or in expedit
ing the workmen, &c. 8cc. When every thing, however,
was dn board, I had al 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 Wilham
Wyndham. I went to his house. He had by 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 slay 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 lo 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, Bul let us not anticipate events.
I thus passed about eighteen months in London, work-

60 LIFE OF DR. FRAJNKLIN.
ing almost without intermission at my trade, avoiding all
expence on my own account, except going now and then
to the play, and purchasing a few books. But my friend
Ralph kept me poor. He owed me about twenty-seven
pounds, which was so much money lost ; and when con
sidered as taken from my httle savings, was a very great
sum. I had, nolwithstapding this, a regard for him, as he
possessed many amiable qualities. Bul though I had done
nothing for myself in point of fortune, I had increased my
slock of knowledge, either by the many excellent books I
had read, or the conversation of learned and hterary 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 al Philadelphia on the 11th 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 ; bul he was as bad a subject
as he was excellent as a workman. He involved himself
in debt, and fled, in the year 1727 or 1728, to the West
Indies, where he died.
During my absence Keimer had taken a more consid

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 6!
table house, in which he k%pt a shop, that was well sup
plied with paper, and various other articles. He had pro
cured some new types, and a number of workmen ; among
whom, however, there was not one who was good for any
thing; and he appeared not to want business,
Mr. Denham took a warehouse in Water-street, where
we exhibited our commodities. I apphed 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 lAven-
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-i-
deed a sort of disappointment when I found myself hkely to
recover, and regretted that I had still lo 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 il. He left
me a small legacy in his will, as a testimony of his friendship :
and I was once more abandoned to myself in the wide
world, the warehouse being confided to the care of 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 iu 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.

63 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
The following were the persons I found in his printing-
house :
Hugh Meredith, a Pennsylyanian, 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 endo\^ ments rather above the
common order, and a competent portion of understanding
and gaiety ; but a httle 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 fii-
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 sei-vice, 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 countiy lad, who was appren
ticed to him.
I soon perceived that Keimer's intention, in engagino-
me al a price so much above what he was accustomed to
give, was, that I might fonn 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 lo do without me. I never
theless adhered to my agreement. I put the office in or
der, which was in the utinosl confusion, and brouo-ht bis
people by degrees, to pay attention to their work, and to
execute it in a more masterly style.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 63
It -^vas 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 gave
me of himself. Born at Gloucester, he had been educat
ed at a grammar school, and had distinguished himself
among the scholars by his superior style of acting, when
they represented dramatic performances. He was a mem-
Taer of a literary club in the town ; and sbme 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 : bul he was not
contented, and wished above all things lo see London, and
become an actor. Al length, having received fifteen gui
neas lo 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, ahuost
famished with hunger, and not knowing what lo 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, inlisled himself, was put on board a ship and
conveyed to America, without ever writing a line to inform
his parents what was become of him. His mental vivacity,
' and good natural disposition, made him an excellent com
panion ; but he was uidolenl, 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 tiiey learned something from me
every day. We never worked on a Saturday, it being Kei
mer's Sabbath, so that I had two days a week for reading.

64 LIFE OF DR. FKANKLIJM*
I increased my acquaintance with persons of uiforma-
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 httle.
He had the goodness, however, not to ask me for the
money. Our press was frequently m want ofthe necessary quan
tity of letter, and there was no such trade as that of letter-
founder in America. I had seen the practice ofthis 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
sttpphed 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, 1 was in every
respect ihe 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
Keimer paid me my second quarter's wages, he gave me
to understand they were too heavy, and that he thought I
ought lo 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 patientiy, conceiving
dial his ill humour was partly occasioned by the derano-e-
ment and embarrassment of his affairs. At last a sho-ht
incident broke our connection. Hearino- a noise in the
neighbourhood, I put my head out at the window, lo sec
what was the matter. Keimer being in the street, observ
ed me, and in a loud and angry tone bid me lo mind my
work ; adding some reproachful words, M'hich piqued me
the more, as they wer.e uttered in the street; and the

Life of dr. franklin. 6o
neighbours, whom the same noise attracted to the windows,
¦were witnesses of the manner in which I was treated. He
immediately came up lo the printing-i'oom, 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 us ; regretting that he was obhged 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 lo take care
of some things which I left, and bring them lo my lodgings.
Meredith came to me in the evening. We talked for
some lime upon the quarrel that had taken place. He had
conceived a great veneration for me, and was sorry I should
quil 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 lo be alarmed ;
that he kept his shop in a -wretched slate, often selling
things at prime cost for the sake of ready money, and con
tinually gi-ving 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 lo London
for our press and types. I know that I am no workman ;
but if you agree to the proposal, your skill in the business
will be balanced by the capital I shall furnish, and we will
share the profits equally." His proposal was reasonable,
and I feD in with it. His father, who was then in town,

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 that,
when more closely connected with him, I should cure him
entirely of this unfortunate habit.
I gave the father a list of what it woiild be necessary t»
import from London. He look it to.a merchant, and the
order was given. We agreed lo keep the secret till the
arrival of the materials, and 1 was in the m^an time to pro
cure work, ifpossible, in another printing-hoilse ; but there
Was no place vacant, and I remained idle. After some
days, Keimer having the expectation of being employed to
print some New Jersey money-bills, that would require
types and engravings which I only could furnish, and fear
ful that Bradford, by engaging me, might deprive him of
this undertaking, sent me a very civil message, teUing me
that old friends ought not to be disunited on account of a
few words, which were th« 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 more opportunities of improving himself
in the business, by means of my instructions. I did so ;
and we lived upon better terms than before our separation.
He obtained the New Jersey business ; and, in order
to execute it, I constructed a copper-plate printing-press !
the first that had been seen in the country. I engraved
various oniaments and vignettes for the bills ; and we re
paired lo Burhngton together, where I executed the whole
to the general satisfaction ; and he received a sum of
money for tliis work, which enabled him to keep his head -
above water for a considerable time longer.
At Burhngton 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 see that no more bills were prmled than tiie law

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN, 67
had prescribed. Accordingly they were constantly wiUi
us, egch in his torn ; and he that camcj commonly brought
with him a friend or two lo bear him company. My mind
was more cultivated by reading than Keimer's ; and it was
for this reason, probably, that they sel more value on my
conversation. Tliey look me to their houses, introduced
me to their friends', ,and. treated me with the greatest
civihty ; 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 certaui points
of religion, disgustingly unclean in his person, and a httle
knavish withal.
' We remained there nearly three monlhsj and al the
expiration of this period I could include in the hst of my
friends. Judge Allen, Samuel Bustil, secretary of the
province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, several of the
Smiths, alfmembers of the assembly, and Isaac Decon,
inspector-g-eneral. The last was a shrewd and subtle old
man. He told hie, 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 lime, of
my intention of estabhshing myself there, or any where else.
"These friends were very serviceable to me in the end, as
was I also, upon occasion, to some of them ; and they have
continued ever sinoe their esteem for me.
Before 1 relate the particulars of my entrance into
business, il may be proper to inform you what was at that
time the state of my mind as to moral principles, that you-
F 2

68 LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN.
may see the degree of influence they had upon the sub
sequent events of my life.
My parents had given me betimes rehgious impressions /
and I received from my infancy a pious education in the
principles of Calvinism, But scarcely was I arrived at
fifteen years of age, when, after having doubted in turn of
different tenets, according as I found them combated in
the different books that I read, I began to doubt of reve
lation itself. Some volumes against deism fell into my
hands. They were said to be the substance of sermons
preached al 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 lo me
mHch more forcible than the refutation itself. In a word, I
soon became a perfect deist. My arguments perverted
some other young persons, particularly Collins and Ralph,
But in ^Ihe sequel, when I recollected that they had both
used me extremely ill,^ithout the smallest remorse ; when
I considered the behavidinr-of Keith, another free-thinker,
and my own conduct towards Vernon and Miss Read, which
at limes gave . nje 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 purbhnd 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 lo 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 reahty 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 irapcrceptibly glided into my argu
ment, by which all the inferences I had drawn from it had
been affected, as frequently happens in metaphysical rei^T-
sonings. In a word, I was al last convinced that truth,
probity, and sincerity in transactions between man dud
man, were of the utmost importance to the happiness of
fife ; 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, oj,gro^s and voluntary/ injustice,
to which my wanlj»f i^igion was calculated to expose me,
in the dangcrons period of youth, and in Jthe- hazardous si
tuations in which I sometimes foU'rid 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.
Thus, before I entered on my new career, I had imbibed
sohd principles, and a character of probity, I knewtiieir
value ; and T made a solemn engagement with myself ne-^
yer to depart from them,
I had not long returned from Burhngton before the
printing materials arrived from London. I settled my ac
counts >vith Keimer, and quitted him, with his own coii-

70 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
sent, before he had any knowledge of our plan. We
found a house lo let near the market. We look it ; and
to render the rent less burdensome, (il was then twenty-
four pounds a year, but I have since known il let for se
venty,) we admitted Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, with his
family, who eased us of a considerable part of it ; and with
him we agreed to board.
We had no sooner unpacked our letters, and put our
press in order, than a person of my acquaintance, George
House, brought us a countryman, whom he had met in the
streets inquiring for a printer. Our money was almost
exhausted by the number of things we had been obhged
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 ofthe 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 ti-ade.
There are in every country morose beings, who are "al
ways prognosticating ruin. There was one ofthis 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
he 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 beiiag 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-
>anped pripe of rent, to be deceitful appearances, which^

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 71
in reality, contributed to hasten Hie general ruin ; and he
gave me so long a detail of misfortunes, actually existing,
or which were soon to take place, that he left me almost in
a state of despair. Had I known this man before I 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 lo see him pay five times as much for
one as it would have cost him had he purchased it when he
'firstbegan 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, obhged every member
to propose, in his turn, one or more questions upon some
point of morality, politics, or philosophy, which were to be
discussed by the society ; and to read, once in three months,
an essay of his o-wn 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 jn the business ; and in order to prevent
undue warmth, every expression which imphed obstinate
adherence lo an opinion, and all direct contradiction, were
prohibited, under small pecuniary penalties.
The first members of our club were Joseph Breiutnal,
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, readmg
every thing that came in his way, and writing tolerably
well, ingenious in many littie trifles, and of an ag-reeabl©
fippvers^tion.

72 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
Thomas Godfrey, a skilful, though self-taught" mathe-
nfiatician, 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. Wilham Parsons, brought up lo 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 surveyoi-
general. William Mawgridge, a joiner, and very excellent me^
chanic ; and in other respects a man of sohd 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, Wilham Coleman, at that time ia 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 exist almost as long.
This was the best school of politics and philosophy that
then existed in the province; for our questions, which

LIFE OP 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 pertmenlly. 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 oil
which I had to count for success in my business, every ,
member exerting himself to procure work for us. Bre-
jntnal, 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 daj'-'s task ;
for the little things which our friends occasionally sent us;
kept us back in this work : bul I was so determined to com
pose a sheet a day, that one evening, when my form was
imposed, and my day'y work, as I thoughf, al an end, an
accident having broken this form, and deranged two com
plete foho 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, Keimei-'s and Bradford's. But Dr. Bard, whom

74 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN
V - ¦
you and I had occasion to see, many years after, at his na
tive town of St. Andrew's, m Scotiand, was of a different
opinion. " The industry of this Frankhn," said he, " is su
perior to any thing ofthe 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 shortiy after, one of its members came to our- house,
and offered to supply us with articles of stationary ; but we
-wished notras yet to embarrass ourselves with keeping a
shop. It is riot for the sake of applause that I enter so
freely into the particulars of my industry, but that such of
my descendants as shall read these memoirs may know tiie
use of this virtue, by seeing in the recital of my life the ef
fects it operated in my favour.
George Webb, ha-ying found a friend who lent hira the
necessary sum lo buy out his tune of Keimer, came one day
to offer himself to us as a journeyman. We could not em
ploy hinj immediately; bul 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 hira. My
hopes of success, which I imparted to him,' were founded
on the circumstance, that the only paper we had in Phila
delphia al 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 mBtitule hitoself, and in which Webb was lo bo
engaged. I was exasperated al this proceeding, and, with a view
to counteract them, not bemg able at present to institute
my own paper, I wrote some humorous pieces in Brad'
ford's, under the title of the Busy Bodyj, and which was

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 73
contmued for several months by Breintnal. I hereby fix
ed the attention of the public upon Bradford's paper ; and
the prospectus ot Keimer, which we turned into ridicule,
was treated with contempt. He begau; notwithstanding,
his paper ; and after continuing it for nine months, having
at most not more than ninety subscribers, he offered il to
me for a mere trifle. I had for some lime been ready for
such an engagement ; I therefore instantly took it upon
myself, and, in a few years, il proved extremely profitable
to me.
I perceive that I am apt lo speak in the first person,
though our partnership still continued. It is, perhaps,
because, in fact, the whole business devolved upon me.
Meredith was no compositor, and bul 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 ;
bul I contrived to derive from it the utmost advantage the
case admitted.
Our first number produced no other effect than anv
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 ofthe first good effects of the pains I had
taken to learn to put my ideas on paper, I derived' this
farther advantage from il, that the leading men ofthe place,
seeing in the author of this publication a man so well able
to use his pen, thought it right tp patronize and encourage
n^e. The votes, laws, and other pubhc pieces, were printed by
Bradford, An address ofthe house of assembly to the go-

76 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
vernor had been executed by him in a very coarse and in
correct manner. We reprinted it with accuracy and neat
ness, and sent a copy lo 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.
I 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 relumed
from England. He warmly interested himself for me on
this occasion, as he did likewise on many others afterwards ;
having continued his kindness to me till his death.
About this period Mr. Vernon reminded me of the debt
I owed him, but without pressing me for payinent. %
wf-ote 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 wailing, 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, fo pay the debt,
In this distress, two real friends, whose generous con
duct I have never forgotten, and never shall forget while X
retain the remembrance of any thing, came to me sepa
rately, without the knowledge of each other, and without

LIFE OF DR. t-RANKLIN. 77
aiy haviilg 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 frequentiy seen drunk in the
streets, and gambhng 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
ofthe compact, I could not propose a separation, as I
conceived myself t^ 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 hberty to accept the kindness
of my friends.
Things remained for some lime 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 unwilhng lo do for two, what he would do for you alone.
Tell me frankly if that be the case, and I will resign the
whole to you, and do for myself as well as I can." — " No,"
said he, " my father has really been disappointed in his
hopes ; he is not able lo pay, and I wish to put him to no
farther inconvenience. I sec that I am not at all calculat
ed for a printer : I was educated as a farraer, and it was
absurd in me lo come here, al 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 exceedingly favourable. I am templed lo go with them,
and lo resume my former occupation. You will doubtless
find friends who will assist you. If you will take upon
yourself the debts of the partnership, return my father the
hundred pounds he has advanced, pay my little personal
debts, and give me thirty pounds and a new saddle, I wiJI

78 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
renounce'the partnership, and consign over the whole stack
to you."
I accepted this proposal without hesitation. It was
committed lo paper, and signed and sealed without delay,
I gave him what he demanded, and he departed soon after
for Carohna, 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 lo either
of them, I accepted from each, half what he had offered me,
and which it was necessary I should have. I paid the
partnership debts, and continued the business on my own
account; taking care to inform the public, by advertise
ment, of the partnership being dissolved.- This was, I
thuik, in the year 1729, or thereabout.
. .^Nearly at the same period, the people demanded a nevr
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
had discussed this affair in our Junto, in which I was on the
side of the new emission ; convinced that the first small
sum, fabricated in 1723, had done much good in the pro
vince, by favouring commerce, industry, and population,
sincib all the houses were now inhabited, and many others
building ; whereas I remembered ^to have seen, when I
first paraded the streets of Philadelphia eating my roll, the
Oiajority of those in Walnut-street, Second-street, Fourth-

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 79
street, as well as a great number m Chesnul and other
streetis, 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 pubhshed an anonymous pamphlet, siititled,
" An Enquiry into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper
Currency," It was very well received by the lower and
middhng 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 iu
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 65,0001.
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 ofthe Newcastle paper rponey, 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. Ho
also procured me the printing ofthe laws and votes of that
government, which I retained as long as I continued in the
business.

80 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, &o. One White-
mash, an excellent compositor, whom I had known in Lon
don, came to offer himself: I engaged him ; and he conti
nued constantly and dihgently 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, bul also to avoid every appearance of the contrary. 1
was plainly dressed, and never seen in any place of pubhc
amusement. I never went a fishing or hunting. A book,
indeed, enticed me sometimes from my work, but it was
seldom, by stealth, and occasioned no scandal ; and to .show
that I did;not think myself above my profession, I conveyed
home, sometimes in a wheelbarrow, the paper I purchased
al the warehouses.'
I thus obtained the reputation of being an mdustrious
young man, and very pimctcial in his payments. The mer
chants who imported articles of stationary solicited my cus
tom ; others offered to furnish mc with books, and my littU
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 I worked for Keimer, having bought his materials,
succeeded him in the business, I was apprehensive, at
first, of finding in Harry a powerful competitor, as he was
allied to an opulent and respectable family ; I therefore
proposed a partnership, which, happily for me, he rejected

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 81
with disdain. He was extremely proud, thought himself a
^ne gentieman, lived extravagantly, and persaed amuse
ments which suffered him lo be scarcely ever at home ; ot
consequence he became in debt, neglected Ids business,
and business neglected hira. Finding in a short time no
thing lo do inthe 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 al last to sell his press and types, and return
to his old occupation of husbandry in Pennsylvania. The
person who purchased them employed Keimer lo manage
the business ; but he died a few years after.
I had now at Philadelphia no competitor bul 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 lo extend his
trade. He had, however, one advantage over me, as he
had the direction ofthe post-office j and was of consequence
supposed to have belter opportunities of obtaining news.
His paper was ajso suppose'd lo 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 ray own, by means
ofthe 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 ti'eatraent 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.

82 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN
I had hitherto continued to board with Godfrey, whoj
with his -wife and children, occupied part of ray house,
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 al last it was lime to come to an
explanation. Mrs. Godfrey undertook lo 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 tx> discharge the remainder of the debt
for my printing materials. It was then, I beheve, 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.
Ihe reply lo 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 supphed with new ones ; that Keimer and Harry
had failed, and 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 lo desist, and that ^ve should contrive
to marry secretly, which would leave them at liberty to
give or not as they pleased. But, suspecting this motive,
I never went again to their house.
Some time after, Mrs. Godfrey informed me that they
were very favourably disposed towards me, and wished me

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 83
to renew the acquaintance ; '^but I declared a firm resolu
tion never lo have any thing more to do with the family.
The Godfreys expressed some resentraent 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 I dreaded above all
things. Bul I was fortunate enough to escape this danger.
As a neighbour and old acquaintance, I had kept up a
friendly intimacy with the family of Miss Read. Her 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, and I had been sometimes
serviceable lo them. I was touched with the unhappy situa
tion of their daughter, who was alraosl always melancholy,
and continually seeking solitude. I regb.rded 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 lo 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 vahd, the man having, it was said, a
former wife still hvmgin England ; but ofthis it, was diffi-
G 2

84 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
cult to obtain a proof at ,so great a distance ; and though a
report prevailed of his being dead, yet we had no certainty
of it; and supposing it lo be true, he had left many debts,
for the payment of which his successor might be sued. We
ventured, nevertheless, in spite of all these difficulties ; and
I married her on the 1st of September, 1730. None of
the inconveniences we had feared happened to' us. She
proved to me a good and faithful companion, and contri
buted essentially lo the success of my shop. We pros
pered together, audit was our mutual study to render each
other happy . Thus I corrected, as well as I could, this
gregLeri^OT of myyouthT ~
Our club was not at that time established at a taveiU.
We held our meetings at tlie 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 aU 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 al the end of the club-room.
They amounted nof to so many~as we expected ; and though
We made considerable use of them, yet some inconveniences
resulting, from want of care, it -w^as 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 estabhshing,
by subscription, a public library. I drew up the proposals,
had them ingrossed in forai 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 ^his usual style of ingenuous
simphcity and philosophical discernment„has communicated
to the world a memoir of himself; Il 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 curioliity of the pubhc, the following continuation
has been subjoined, written by the late Dr. Stuber of Phil
adelphia ; who for a series of years, was honoured mth the
friendship and unlimited confidence of Dr, Franklin.]
Ebitoe.

66 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
^I^HEpromolion of hterature had been little attendedto in
Pennsylvania. Most of the inhabitants were too much
immersed in business to think of scientific pursuits,and those
few, whose inclinations led them to study, found it difficult to
gratify them from the want of libraries sufficiently large. In
such circumstances,the establishment of a pubhc library was
an important evCnt. This was first set on fool by Frankhn,
about the year 1781. Fifty persons subscribed forty .shillings
each, and agreed to pay ten shiUings 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
hterature in America and in Great Britain. The Penn
family distinguished themselves by their donations.
Amongst the earhest friends of this institution must be
mentioned the late Peter Collinson, the friend and cdrresi
pohdenl of Dr. Franklin. He not only made considera
ble presents himself, and obtained others from his friends,
bul voluntarily uhdertook lo 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- '
forra these services for more than thirty years, and uoi-

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 87
formly refused to accept of any compensation. During
this time, he communicated lo the directors every informa
tion relative to improvements and discoveries in the arts,
agriculture, and philosophy.
The beneficial influence ofthis institution was soon evi
dent. The terms of subscription lo it were so moderate
that it was accessible lo every one. Its advantages were
not confined lo the opulent. The citizens in the middle
atid 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. Il 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 lo diffuse knowledge amongst
the people ; and amongst these, public hbrarips are not the
least important.
i In 1732, Franklin began to pubhsh Poor Richard's Al
manack. This jvas remarkable for the numerous and valu
able concise maxims which il contained, aU 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 pubhcalions. It has
also been printed on a large sheet, and may be seen framed
in pijany houses in this city. This address contains, perhaps,
the best practical system of economy that ever has appeared.

m 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 il contains.
The demand for this almanack was so great, that ten thou
sand have belen sold in one year" ; which must be consider- -
ed as a very large number, especially when we reflect^ that
this country was, al that time, bul thinly peopled. It
cannot be doubted that the salutary maxims contained in
these almanacks must have made a favourable impression
upon many of the readers of them.
It was not long before Frankhn 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 lurn, enjoyed
these advantages, by being appointed post-master of Phila
delphia in 1737. Bradford, while in office, had acted un
generously towards Franklin, preventing as mucli as pos
sible the circulation of his paper. He had now an oppor
tunity of retaliating; but his nobleness of soul prevented
him from making use of it.
The police 'of Philadelphia had early appointed watch
men, whose duty it was lo guard the citizens against the
midnight robber, and to give an immediate alarm in case of
fire. This duty is, perhaps, one of the most important that
can be committed to any set of men. The regulations, liow-
ever, were not sufficientiy strict. Franklin 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 ofthe citizens. The pro-

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. , 89
priety ofthis 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; bul these, in a moment render abortive the labours
of ages. On this account there should be, in all cities,
ample provisions lo prevent fires from spreading. Frank
lin early saw llie necessity of these; and, about the yeai-
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 lime after, Frankhn sug
gested the plan for an associaticin for insuring houses from
losses by fire, which was adopted ; and the association con
tinues lo this day. The advantages experienced 'from it
have been great.
From the first settlement of Pennsylvania, a spirit of
dispute appeal's lo have prevailed among its inhabitants.
During the life-time of Wilham Penn, the constitution had
been three times altered. After this period the history of
Pennsylvania is little else than a recital ofthe 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 by
no means consent. This subject of dispute interfered in
almost every question, and prevented the most salutary
laws frora being enacted. This al limes 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
the province, who were unprovided for such an attack. It
became necessary that the citizens should arm for their de-

90 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
fence. Governor Thomas recommended lo 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 tsn 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 tiie ardor and
thirst for discovery which characterized the philosopher
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 ye-ar 1600,
Gilbert, an English physician, enlarged considerably the
catalogue of substances which have the property of attract
ing hght 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
conimimicated some important observations and experj-

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 91
ments lo 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 Mr.
Wheeler, made a great variety of experiments, in which
they demonstmted, 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 hght perceived at the ex
tremities in the dark. M. du Faye, inlendant of the French
king's gardens, Vmade a number of experiments, which
added not a little to the science. He made the discovery
of two kinds of electricity, which he called vitreous and
resinous ; the former produced by rubbing glass, the lat
ter from excited sulphur, sealing-wax, &c.' But this he
afterwards gave up as erroneous. Between the years
1739 and 1742, Desaguhcrs made a number of experi
ments, bul 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'ofWiltemberg, professor
Winkler of Leipsic, Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine monk,
professor of philosophy al 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 coiled large quantities of
the electric fluid, and thus to produce phenomena which
had been hitherto unobserved. They killed small birds,
and sel 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 lo use it, Franklin, with some of his friends,
.immediately engaged in a course of experiments, the result

92 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
of which is well known. He was enabled to make a num
ber of important discoveries, and lo propose theories to
account for various phenomena, which have been univer
sally adopted, and which bid fan to endure for ages. His
ohsei-vations he communicated in a series of letters, to his
, friend Collinson, the first of which is dated March C8, 1747.
In these he shews the power of points in drawmg and
throwing off the electrical matter, which had hitherto es
caped the notice of electricians. He' also made the grand
discovery ot a plus and minus, or of a positive and nega
tive slate of electricity. We give him the honour of this,
without hesitation ; although the English have claimed it
for their countryman, Dr, Watson. W^atson's paper is
dated Jamtary 21, 1748; Franklin's July II, 1747 : seve
ral months prior. Shortly after, Franklin, frora his princi
ples of the plus and minus state, explained, in a satisfac
tory manner, the phenomena ofthe Leyden phial, first ob
served by Mr. Cuneus, or by professor Musclienbroeck,
of Leyden, which had much perplexed philosophers. He
sliewed 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 bul 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' coaling, 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 hghtning and electricity
agree; and he adduces many facts, and reasonings frora

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 93
facts, in support of his positions. In the same year he
conceived the astonishing-ly 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,
rai-jed into the region of the clouds. Even in this uncer
tain state, his passion to be useful to mankind, displayed
itself in a poAverful manner. Admitting the identity of
electricity and lightning, and knowing tlie 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
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 mallei
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 lower, 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, imparl to
it a portion of their electricity, which would he rendered
evident to the senses by sparks being emitted, when a key,
the knuckle, or other conductor was presented lo it. Phi
ladelphia al this time afforded no opportunity of trjing an
experiment of this kind. While Frankhn was waiting for
the erection of a spire, it occurred\_to hun 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 fciilk handkerchief, which ],vould.iiot suffer

94 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
so much from the rain as paper. To\he 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, he
went out into the commons, accompanied by his son, to
whom alone he communicated his intentions, well knowing
the ridicule which, too generally for the interest of science,
awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. He placed
himself under a shade, lo avoid the raui— his kite was
raised— a thunder-cloud passed over it — no sign of elec-
¦Iricity appeared. He almost despaired of success, when,
suddenly, he observed the loose fibres Of his siring 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 mustinevitably be sub
jected lo the derision of mankind, or, what is worse, their
pity, as a Avell-meaning man, bul 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 lo 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 mgenious
Frenchman had completed the discovery in the mannei
originally proposed by Dr. Franklin. The letters which
he sent lo Mr. Collinson, it is said, were refused a place
in the Transactions of the Royal Society of London.
However this may be, Collinson published them in a se»

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 96
parate volume, under the title of " New Experiments and
Observations on Electricity, raade al Philadelphia, iu Ame
rica," They were read with avidity, and soon translated
into different lang;uages. A very incorrect French trans
lation fell into the hands ofthe celebrated Buffon, 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, lo 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 ofthe 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, M.
D'Alibard at Mary-la-ville, and De Lor al his house in the
Estrapade al Paris, some of the highest ground in that
c£q)ital. D'Alibard's machine first shewed signs of elec
tricity. On the 10th of May, 1752, a thunder cloud pas
sed over it, m 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.
Raulel, 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 fialed May I3th, 1752. On
the 18lh 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 whora, 'none signalised
themselves more than Father Beccaria, of Turin, to whose
observations science ig much indebted. Even the cold

36 LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN.
regions of Russia were penetrated by the ardor for dis
covery. Professor Richman bade lair to add much to the
stock of knowledge on this subject, when an unfortunate
flash from his conductor, put a period lo his existence.
The friends of science will long remember with regret, tiie
amiable martyr to electricity.
By these experiments Franklin's theory -was established
in the' most convinc.ng manner. When the truth of it
could no longci; be doubled, 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
lo frame theories, which had escaped the notice of the en
lightened philosophers of Europe, was too mortifying to
be admitted. He must certainly have talj^^n +he idea frora
some one else. An American, a being of an inferior or-
tler, make discoveries !—¦ :^npossible. It was said, that
tho Abbe NoUet, 1748, had suggested the idea of the si-
Eiilarity of lightning and electricity in his L.econs de Phy
sique. It is true th-atthe Abbe mentions the idea, b^it he
throws il 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
hghtning from the heavens, by means of pointed rods fixed
in the air- The similarity of lightning and electricity is so
strong, that we need not be surprised at notice being
taken of it, as soon as electrical phenomena became fa
miliar. We find il mentioned by Dr. Wall and Mr. Grey,
while the science was in its infancy. But the honour of
forming a regular theory of thunder-gusts, of suggesting a
mode of determining the truth of it by experiments^ and of
putting these experiments in practice, and thus 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 Franklin had pointed out.

LiFfi OF DR. FRANKLIT^ 07
it has been of late asserted, that the honour of com
pleting the experiment with the electrical kite, does n'ot
belong to Frankhn. Some late English paragraphs have
attributed it to some Frenchman, whqse name they do not
mention; and' the Abbe Bertholon gives it to M. do
Romas, assessor to the presi-deal of Nerac; the English
paragraphs probably refer to the same person. But a very .
shght attention will convince us of the injustice of this
procedure : Dr. Franklin's experiaient was made in June
1752 ; and his letter, giving an account of il, is dated Oc
tober 19, 1752. M. de Romas made his first attempt on
the 14th of May, 1753, bul was not successful until the
7th of June ; a year after Frankhn had completed fee dis
covery, and when it was known to all the philosophers in
Europe- Besides these great principles, Frankhn's letters on
electricity contain a number of facts and hints, which have
contributed greatly towards reducing this branch oi know
ledge lo a science. His friend Mr. Kinnersley coii muni
cated to him a discovery of the different kinds of electri
city, excited by rubbing glass and sulphur. This, we
have said, was first observ ed by M. Du Faye ; but it was
for many years neglected. The philosophers were Mis-
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
tharged negatively. These experiments and observations
H

93 *IFE 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, Franklm entered upon a course' of
experiments, to determme 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 il follows, as a necessary
consequence, " that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes,
it is the earth that strikes into the clouds, and not the
clouds that strike into the earth." The letter containing
these observations is dated m September, 1753 ; and yet
the discovery of ascending thunder has been said lo be of
a modern date, and has been attributed lo the Abbe Ber
tholon, who published his memoir on the subject in 1776.
Frankhn'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 NoUel, 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 Frankhnian System is
now universally adopted, where science flourishes.
The important practical use which Frankhn 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 hith.erlo
prevented their general introduction into Europe, not
withstanding the most undoubted proofs of tiieir utihty
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.
It is only by degrees that the great body of mankind can
be led into new practices, however salutary their tendency.
Il 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 lo render it so.
In the year 1745, Frankhn pubhshed 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 us^, which, however, differ frora il 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 ofthis are, that as
a stream of warm air is continually flowing into the room,
less fuel is necessary to preserve a proper temperature,
and the room may be so tightened as that no air may enter
through cracks — the consequence of which are colds, tooth
aches, &c.
Although philosophy was a principal object of Franklin's
pursuit for several years, he confined himself not to this.
In the year 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 he their just rights. Frankhn, a
friend to the rights of man from his infancy, soon distin
guished himself as a steady opponent ofthe unjust schemes
of the proprietaries. He was soon looked up to as the
head of the opposition ; and to him have been attributed
H 2

100 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
many of the spirited rephes ofthe 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 stoiy, 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, hke that of
his writings, simple, unadorned, and I'emarkably 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 ofthe unprejudiced who had
opposed hira. 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 thera 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 pubhc hbrary,
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 thty
had undertaken ; and, after all, nothing more could be ob
tained than tiie rudiments of a common English education,
Frankhn 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 lime only. He looked forward lo the
period when an institution on an enlarged plan would be
come necessary. With this view, he considered his aca*

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, lOI
demy as " a foundation for posterity to erect a seminary
of'learning more extensive, and suitable to future circum
stances." In pursuance of this plan, the constitutions were
drawn up and signed on the I3th of November, 1749. In
f these, twenty-four ofthe 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 lo 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 ofdienevolence wor
thy of imitation; and, for the honour of. our city, we hope
that il continues to be in force,
" In case of the disability of the rector, or any master
(established on the foundation by recei-ving a certain salary)
through sickness, or any other natural infirmity, whereby
he may be reduced to poverty, the trastees 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. i " It is hoped and expected that the trustees will make
it their pleasure, and in some degree their business, to visit
. the aeaderay 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
harity 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. FRANKLIN.
ence to all otfier persons whatsoever, even of equal
merit." The constitutions being signed and made public, \^ith Ih^
names of the gentlemen proposing themselves as trustees
a,nd founders, the design was so well approved of by the
pubhc-spirited citizens of Philadelphia, that the sura of
eight hundred pounds per annum, for five years, was inthe
course of a few weeks subscribed for carrying il 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 thirfy girls (in the char
ter since called the Charitable School) was opened; and
amidst all the difficulties (vith 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 il the chief part ef 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 stale.
The institution, thus successfully begun, continued daily
to flourish, to the great satisfaction of Dr. Franklin ; who,
notwithstanding the multiphcily of his other engagements
and pursuits, al that busy stage of his hfe, was a constant
attendant at , the monthly visitations and examinations of
the schools, and made it his pecuhar 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. l03
otthte trustees, a charter of incorporation, dated July 13,
1753, was obtained from the honourable proprietors of
Pennsylvania, Thomas Penn and Richard Penn, Esqrs.
accompanied with a hberal benefaction of five hundred
pounds sterling; and Dr. Frankhn now began in good
earnest to please himself with the hopes of a speedy acoom-
phshmenl of liis original design, viz. the eslablishraent of a
perfect institution, upon the plan of the European colleges
and universities ; for which his aeaderay was intended as a
nursery or foundation. To elucidate this fact, is a matter
of considerable importance in respect lo the meraor/ 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 hira in the prearable
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 stale of
an infant country, and laying a foundation for posterity lo
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 ianguages, 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
pubhshed the idea of a college, suited f o the chcumstances
\ of a young country (meaning New York) a copy of which
\ having been sent to Dr, Frankhn for his opinion, gave rise
\to that correspondence which terminated about a year af
terwards, in erecting the college upon the foundation of the
\cademy, and establishuig that gentieman 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 \9th, 1753.
" SiK,
" I received your favour of the 11th instant, with your
new * piece on Education, which I shall carefully peruse,
and give you my sentiments of it, as you desire, by nest
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 ofthe Latin ahd
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 il a middhng apparatus for experimental phi
losophy, and propose speedily to complete it. The Logan-
ian library, one of the best collections in America, wiH
shortly be opened ; so that neither books nor instruments
-will be wanting; and as we are determined always lo give
good salaries, we have reason to believe we may have al
ways an opportunity of choosing good masters ; upon which
mdeed the success ofthe whole depends. We are obhged
to you for your kind offers in this respect, and when yor

•9-W^^t»-^^*9

A general idea of the college of Miranda,

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 105
are settled in England, we may occasionally make use of
your friendship and judgment.—*
" If it suits your conveniency to visit Philadelphia before
you return to Europe, I shall be extremely glad to see and
converse with you here, as well as to correspond -with you
after your settlement in England ; for an acquaintance and
coufimunication 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, TT. Smith, Long Island,"

" Philad. May 3d, 1753.
" Sir,
" Mr. Peters has just now been with me, ami we have
compared notes on your new piece. We find nothing in
the scheme of education, however b^oellent, 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 ha4h 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 OP DR, FRANKLIN.
carry it into execution ; but such may be had if proper en
couragement be given. We have both received great
pleasure m 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 resentraent 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 hira 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 coraphmenls 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 yoh fully, via Bristol, I have now hltie
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 entoring into new en
gagements till they are got out of debt ; and I have not
yet got them wholly over lo my opinion, that a good pro
fessor, or teacher of the higher branches of learning, would

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 107
draw so many scholars as to pay great part, if not' the
whole of his salary. Thus, unless the proprietors (ofthe
province) shall think fit to put the finishing hand lo our in
stitution, it must, 1 fear, wail sorae few years longer before
it can arrive at that slate of perfection, which to me it
seems now capable of; and all the pleasure I 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 thera 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
smce your arrival in England."

" Philad. April 18th, 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
50001. 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 coming, and propose to tell me every thing
vive 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 affection,
" Your's, &c.
» Mr. Smith, B. FRANKLIN.
About a month after the date ofthis last letter, the gen
tleman to whom it was addressed arrived in Philadelphia,
and was immediately placed at tiie head of the seminary ;
jwhereby 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 lo 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 hfe, (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, unld 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 meetmgs 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 lo raeet at
the college.
Franklin not only gave birth to many useful institutions
himself, but he was also instrumental in proraoting 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 I'nr 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 staling the advantageous
influence of- the proposed institution in his paper. These
efforts were attended with success. Considerable sums
were subscribed ; bul 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 lo bring in a bill, specifying, that as soon as two
thousand pounds were subscribed, the same sum should be
drawn from the treasury by the speaker's warrant, to be
applied to the pui-poses of the institution. The opposi
tion, as the sura was granted upon a contingency which
they supposed would never take place, were silent, and the
bill passed^ The friends ofthe plan now redoubled their
efforts, to obtain subscriptions lo the amount stated in the
bill, and were soon successful; This was the foundation
ofthe Pennsylvanian Hospital^ which, with the Bettering-
house, and Dispensary, bears ample testimony ofthe hu
manity ofthe citizens of Philadelphia.
Dr. Franklin had conducted himself so well in the office
of post-master, and had shown himself to be so well ac-

110 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN,
quainted w.itii the business of that department, that it was
thought expedient to raise him lb 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 Frankhn, 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 loo weak lo
take efficient measures for tiieir own defence, or they
were un-wilhng 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 lo the expense. Some
times also the disputes, which subsisted bet-ween 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 and other matters, appeared a desirable ob
ject. To accomplish this, in the year 1754, commissioners
from New Hampshire, Massachussets, 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 apphcation should be made
for an act of parliament, to estabhsh 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 colonics ; their number to be in dh-ect proportion

LIFE OP* DR, FRANKLIN. Ill
to the sums paid by each colony into the general treasury,
with this restriction, that no colony should have more thaa
Seven, nor less than two representatives. The whole exe
cutive authority was comraitted to the president-general.
The power of legislation was lodged in the grand council
and president-general jointiy; his consent being made ne
cessary to passing a bill into a law. The power vested in
llie 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 ofthe cr9wn, or ofthe union ;
to settle new colonies, to make laws for governing these
until tiiey 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 lo 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 lo be
iiorainkted by the council, and approved of by the presi
dent. Such are the outhnes ofthe plan proposed, for the
consideration of the^congress, by Dr. Frankhn. After se
veral days' discussion, it was unaniraously agreed to by
the comraissioners, a copy transraitted to each assembly,
and one to the king's council. The fate of it was singular.
it was disapproved of by the ministry of Great Britain, be
cause it gave too much power to the representatives of the
people ; and it was rejected by every assembly, as giving to
the president-general, the representative of the crown, an
influence greater than appeared to them proper, in a plan
of governmeiit intended for freemen. Perhaps this rejec-

112 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. i -- ,
tion, on both sides, is the strongest proof that could be aa^
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 have 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 reraoved the pretext upon which
the stamp-act, tea-act, and other acts ofthe British parha
ment, were passed ; which excited a spirit of opposition,
•and laid the foundation for the separation ofthe two coun
tries. But, on the other hand, il must be admitted, that
the restriction laid by Great Britain upon our commerce,
obliging us lo 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,
be must, of necessity, be devoted lo its ^^ews, 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 tiiey
receive his assent, the approbation of the king was to b®
necessary; who would indubitably, in every instance,
pr.efer the advantage of his home dominions to that of his
colonies. Hence would ensue perpetual disagreements
between the council and the president-general, and thus,
between the people of America and the crown of Great
Britain. While the colonies continued weak, they would
he obliged to submit, and as soon as tiiey acquired Strength

lilFE OF DR. PRAi^KLlN. 113
they would become more urgent in their demands, until, at
length, they would shake off the yoke, and declare them
selves uidependent.
Whilst the French were in possession of Canada, their
trade witii the natives extended very far ; even to the back
ofthe British settlements. They were disposedy from time
to time, lo estabhsh posts within the territoiy, which the
Enghsh clairaed as their own. Independent ofthe injury
to the fur trade, which was considerable, the colonies suf
fered this further inconvenience, that the Indians were fre-
,queally instigated to commit depredations on tiieir fron
tiers. In the year 1753, encroachments were made upon
the boundaries of Vnginia. Remonstrances had no effect:
In the ensuuig 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 iraportanl 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 lime 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 tiiey had seized. After
the men were all ready, a difficulty occurred, which had
nearly prevented the exipedition. This was the want of
waggons. Franklin now stepped forward, and with the
assistance of his son, in a httle time procured a hundred
and fifty. Braddock unfortunately fell intp an ambuscade,
and perished, with a number of his men. Washington, who
I

1 14 LIFE OF DR. PRANKLI:^f.
had accompanied him as an aid-de-camp, and had warned
him, in vain, of his danger, now displayed great military
talents in effecting a retreat of the remains of the army,
and in forming a junction with the rear, under Colonel
Dunbar, upon whom the chief command now devolved.
With some difficulty they brought their little body to a
place of safety ; but they found it necessary to destroy
their waggons and baggage, to prevent them falling into
the hands of the enemy. For the waggons which he had
furnished, Franklin had given bonds to a large amount.
Tlie 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 released 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 tiie citizens to bear arms.
Frankhn introduced into the assembly a bill for organizing
a militia, by which every man was allowed lo 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 them to fight, they had no
objection lo their neighbours fighting for tiiem. In con
sequence of this act a very respectable militia was formed.
The sense of impending danger infused a military spirit in
all whose rehgious 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 far defence.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 1 16
Franklin was directed by the governor lo take charge of
this. A power of raising men, and of appointing officers
to command them, was vested in him. He soon levied a
body of troops, with which he repaired to the place at
which their presence was necessary. Here he built a fort,
and placed a garrison in such a posture of defence, as
would enable them to withstand the inroads, to which the
inhabitants had previously been exposed. Pie remained
here for some time, in order the more completely to dis
charge the trust comraitted to him. Some business of im
portance at length rendered his presence necessary in the
assembly, and he returned lo 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 thera was highly injurious, but
extreraely advantageous to the raolher-counlry. 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 lo be guarded against, and, although a war
then raged, the act for organizing a mihtia 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 mterests.
I 2

116 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
The assembly still insisted upon the justice of taxing the
proprietary estates, but the governors constantiy refused
their assent lo 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, slating the inconveniences under which the in
habitants laboured, frora the attention ofthe proprietaries
to their private interests, lo the neglect of the general wel
fare of tiie community, and praying for redress, Franklm
was appointed to present this address, as agent for the
province of Pennsylvania, and departed from America in
June 1757. In conformity to the instructions which he
had received frora the legislature, he held a conference
with the proprietaries, who theu resided in England, and
endeavoured lo prevail upon them to give up the long con
tested point. Finding that they would hearken to no terras
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 ofthe estates ofthe Penn family. They, alarmed at
this inteUigence, 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 lo 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 sonic time spent in debate, a proposal was made, that
Frankhn should solemnly engage, that the assessment of
the tax should be so made, as that the proprietary estates
should pay no more thaa a due proportion. This he agreed

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. U7
to perform ; the Penn family withdrew their opposition, and
tranquillity was thus once more restored lo 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 of this iraportanl business, Frank
lin remained al 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 hterary 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 hira 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 with

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 setUed 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 lo France, it was a
grievous inconvenience to the inhabitants ofthe 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. Frora these considera
tions, il appeared lo 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 frora 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 observed.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN, 119
Some experiments on the cold produced by evapora
tion, made by Dr, CuUen, had 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 sunimer's day, that water was
converted into ice. This discovery he apphed to the so
lution of a number of phenomena, particularly a singular
fact, which philosophers had endeavoured in vain lo ac
count for, viz. that the temperature of the human body,
when in health, never exceeds 96 degrees of Fahrenheit's
therraometer, though the atmosphere which surrounds it
may be heated to a much greater degree. This he attri
buted lo the increased perspiration, and consequent eva
poration, produced by the heat.
In a letter to Mr. Small, of London, dated in May 1760,
Dr. Franklin makes a number of observations, tending to
show that, in North America, 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 lo 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 been generally known, A Mr.
Puckeridge, an Irishnnan, 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 lo any degree of perfection.
After his death some improvements were made upon his

120 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN,
plan. The sweetness of the tones induced Dr. Frankhn to
make a variety of experiments ; and he at length formed
that elegant instrument which he has called the Armonica.
In the summer of 1762, he returned to America. On
his passage he observed the singular effect produced by
the agitation of a vessel, containing oil, floating on water.
The surface of the oil remains smooth and undisturbed,
whilst the water is agitated with the utmost commotion.
No satisfactory explanation ofthis 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 5000K
Pennsylvania currency, was also decreed him for his ser-
-yices 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 body, and continued a steady de
fender ofthe liberties ofthe people.
In December 1762, a circumstance which caused great
alarm in the province look place. A number of IndidnS
had resided in the county of Lancaster, and conducted
themselves uniformly as friends to the while inhabitants.
Repealed depredations on the frontiers had exasperated
the inhabitants to such a degree, that they determined oii
revenge upon every Indian. A number of persons,
amounting to about 120, principally inhabitants of Done
gal and Peckstang or Paxton township, in the county of
York, assembled ; and, mounted on horseback, proceeded
to the settlement of these harmless and defenceless In
dian^, whose number had now been reduced to about
twenty. The Indians had received intelligence of the at
tack -wliich was intended against them, bul disbelieved it.

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 181
Considering the white people as their friends, they ap.
prehended no danger from them. When the parly arrived
at the Indii.n settlement, they found only some women and
children, and a few old men, the rest being absent al work.
They murdered all whom they found, and amongst others
the chief Shaheas, who had been always distinguished for
his friendship Iq 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 raassacre, 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
ipjuries to the peaceable Indians in future. But, notwith
standing this, a party ofthe same men shortly after marched
to Lancaster, broke open the gaol, and inhumanly bulcher.ed
the innocent Indians, who had been placed there for
security. Another proclamation was issued, but it had
no effect. A detachment marched down lo 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 lo fighting, even in
their own defence, were mo.st 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 enouffh to prevail upon them to rehn-
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 diss-atished with the concessions made in
favour of the people, and made great strugglfcs to recover

122 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
the privilege of exempting their estates from taxation,
which they had been induced to give up.
In 1763, the assembly passed a militia-bill, lo which the
governor refused to give his assent, unless the assembly
would agree to certain araend ments which he proposed.
These consisted in increasing the fines, and in some cases,
substituting death for fines. He wished loo, that the of
ficers should be appointed altogether by himself, and not
be nominated by the people, as the bill had proposed.
These amendments theassembly 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 oj' Mr. Gallo
way, in reply to Mr. Dickenson, was pubhshed, 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
uo 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 seal in the house, which he had held for fourteen
years. On the meeting of tiie 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 Igi)
gffin of his enemies, who made a solemn protest ag^nst his
appointment, which vvas refused admission upon the minutes,
as being unprecedented. It was, however, published in
the papers, and produced a spirited reply from him, just
before his departure for England.
The disturbances produced in America by Mr. Gren
ville's stamp-act, and the opposition made lo it, are well
known. Under the Marquis of Rockingham's adminis
tration, it appeared expedient lo 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 sentiraents. He represented facts in so
strong a point of view, that the inexpediency of the act
must have appeared clear lo every unprejudiced mind.
The act, after some opposition, was repealed, about a year
after il was enacted, and before it had ever been carried
into execution,
I 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 ofthe 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 found among his philosophical
pieces. In the following year he travelled into France, where
he met a no less favourable reception than he had experi-

124 LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN.
enced in (jermany. He was introduced to a number of
literary character*, and to the king, Louis XV.
Several letters written by Hutchinson, Ohver, 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 lo obedience
to the measures of the ministry. These he transmitted lo
the legislature, by whom they were published. Attested
copies of thera were sent to Great Britain, with an address,
praying the king to discharge from oflice persons who had
rendered themselves so obnoxious lo the people, and wlio
had shown themselves so unfriendly to their interests. The
pubhcation of these letters produced a duel between Mr,
Whately and Mr. Temple, each of whom was suspected of
having been in.slrumental in procuring them. To prevent
any farther disputes on this subject. Dr. Franklin, in one
of the public papers, declared that he had sent them to
America, but would give, no information concerning the
manner in which he had obtained them — nor was this ever
discovered. Shortly after, the petition of the Massachussets assembly
was taken up for examination, before the privy council.
Dr. Frankhn 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 Ohver and Hut-
clunson. The petition was declared to be scandalous and
vexatious, and the prayer of it refused.
Although the parhament of Great Britain had repealed
the stamp-act, it was only upon the principle of expediency.
They still insisted upon their right to tax tiie 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 lansruaffe 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 thdt it would not be exercised, they were not very
active in remonstrating against il. Had this pretended
right been suffered to remain dormant, the colonists would
cheerfully have furnished their quota of supphes, in the
mode to which they had been accustomed ; tiiat is, by acts
of their own assemblies^ in consequence of requisitions
frora the secretary of state. If this practice had been pur
sued, such was the disposition of the colonies towards
their mother -country, 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, frora their earhest infancy, were
taught to venerate a people from whom they were de-i,
Scended ; whose language, laws, and manners, were the
same as their own. They looked up to them as raodels
of perfection; and, in their prejudiced minds, the most en
lightened nations of Europe were considered as almost
barbarians, in ctmparison -with Englishmen. The name of
an Enghshman 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 treatthenl of their humble remonstrances, stating
their grievances, and praying a redress of them, and other
violent and oppresssive measures, al length excited an ar-

12G 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
<hem 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 frora a continuance of
the attempts. They persevc.-ed, with a degree of inflexibi
lity scarcely paralleled.
The advantages which Great Britain derived frora her
colonies were so great, that nothing but a degree of infa
tuation, little short of madness, could have produced a
continuance of measures calculated to keep up a spirit of
uneasiness, which might occasion the slightest wish tor a
separation. When we consider the great improvements in
the science of government, the general diffusion of the
principles of hberty amongst the people of Europe, the
effects which these have already produced in France, and
the probable consequences which will result frora them
elsewhere, all of which are the offspring of the American
revolution, it cannot but appear strange, that events of so
great moment to the happiness of mankind, should have
been ultimately occasioned by the wickedness or ignorance
of a British 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 lo the mother-
country, a repetition of ill Ireatraent 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 uncondi"

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. 127
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. Frankhn, finding all eftbrts 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 elected by the
legislature of Pennsylvania a delegate lo congress. Not
long after his election a committee was appointed, consist
ing of Mr. Lynch, Mr. Harrison, and himself, to visit the
camp al Cambridge, and, in conjunction with the com
mander-in-chief, to endeavour to convince the troops,
whose term of enhstmenl 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 could not be prevailed upon to oppose the raeasures
ofthe British governraent. M. Le Roy, in a letter annexed
to Abbe Fauchet's eulogium on Dr. Frankhn, states, that
the ill success of this negocialion was occasioned, in a
great degree, by religious animosities, which subsisted be
tween the Canadians and their neighbours, some of whom
had al different times burnt their chapels.
When Lord Howe came to America, in 1776, vested
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 feand lo be only
to grant pardons upon submission. Such terms which
could not be accepted ; and the object of the commission
ers was not obtained.

t28 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 Iraly
formidable. With an army, numerous indeed, bul igno
rant of disciphne, and entirely unskilled in the art of
war, without money, without a fleet, without alhes, and with
nothing but the love 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 forra of go- i
vernmenl for the state of Pennsylvania, Dr. Franklin was
chosen president. The late constitution ofthis state, which
was the result of their dehberations, 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. Frankhn was appointed
to assist in the negocialion which had been set on foot by
Silas Deane al the court of France. A conviction ofthe
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 alhance. Bul they shewed rather a reluctance lo the
measure, which, by Dr. Frankhn's address, and particu
larly by the success of the American arms against General
Biugoyne, was at length overcome ; and in February 1778,

LJFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. IS9
a treaty of alhance, offensive and defensive, was concluded;
in consequence of which France became. involved,inlhe war
with Great Britain.
Perhaps uo person could have been found more capable
of rendering essential services to the United States at the
court of 'France, than Dr. Franklm. 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 hterary characters 5 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 ^f the
United States. To his exertions in this way, inay, 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 Cornwalhs 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 freaty, 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-
jnerce, between the United States and Sweden, was con
cluded at Paris, by Dr, Franklin and the Count Von
Kriitz.

ISO LIFE OF DR. FR4NKLIN.
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, tiial the king appointed com
missioners to examine into the foundation ofthis 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 lo wealth and fame, and a
most insolent attempt lo impose upon tiie human under
standing baffled.
. The important ends of Dr, Franklin's mission being
completed by the estabrishment of American independence,
and the infirmities of age and disease coming upon him, he
became desirous of returning to his native country. Upon
apphcation lo congress lo be recalled, Mr. Jefferson was
appointed lo 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. Franklm was appointed a dele
gate from the state of Pennsylvania. He signed tiie con-

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 131
stitution which they proposed for the union, and gave it the
most unequivocal marks of his approbation.
, A society for pohtical inquiries, of which Dr. Franklin
was president, was established about this period. The
meetings were held al 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-
kdelphia, founded on the principles ofthe most 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 ytas president. The labours of these
bodies have, been crowned with great success ; and they
continue to prosecute, with unwearied dihgence, the
laudable designs for which they were estabhshed.
Dr. Franklin's increasing infirmities prevented his regu
lar attendance at the council-chamber ; and, in 1788, he
retired wholly frora public hfe.
His constitution had been a remarkably good one. He
had been little subject lo disease e?;cepl 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 unirapaired, even to
1 the hour of his death.
His name, as president of the abolitibn society, was
signed to the memorial presented to the house of represen
tatives ofthe 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 lastpublic 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. In the Federal Gazette of
March 25tb, 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 dehvered by Mr. Jackson, of
Georgia, All the arguments urged in favour of negio
slavery, are apphed 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 iu
defence of the stave 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 tiie extremely painful paroxysms,
he was obliged lo take large doses of laudanum to mitigate
his tortures; still, in tiie intervals of pain, he not onlv
amused himself with reading and conversmg cheerfullV
witii his family and a few friends who visited him, but was
often employed in doing business of a pubfic as weli-as pri
vate naliu-o^.with variuus persons who waited on^iim for

LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN. la*
that purpose ; and in every instance displayed, not only
that readiness and disposition of doing good, which was
the distinguishing characteristic of his hfe, but the fullest
and clearest possession of his uncommon mental abilities ;
and not unfrequently indulged himseldnihosejeux ctesprit
and entertaining anecdotes, which were the delight of all
who heard him.
" About sixteen days before his death, he was seiz»d
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, Le would
observe, that he was afraid he did not bear it as he ought ;
acknowledged his grateful sense of the, many blessing»he
hadreceived from the' Supreme Being, who had raised him
from small and low beginnings to such high rank and Oon-
sidcration among men, and made no doubt but his present
afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from a world;
ju which he was no longer fit lo act the part a,ssigned 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 hii family were flattering themselves
with the hopes of his recovery, when an imposthumatiou,
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
17lh of April, 1790, about eleven o'clock al night, h^
quietly expired, closing a Idngand useful life of eighty-four
years and three months."
It may not be amiss lo add to the above account, that
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 the last WiU and Testament of Dr.
Franklin.
With regard to my books, those I had in France, and
those I left in Philadelphia, bchig now assembled loo-ether
here, and a catalogue made of them, it is my intention lo
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. 185
of Philadelphia, of which I have llie honourto be president*
My collection in folio of " jLe* Arts et les Metiers," I
give to the American Philosophical Society, established
in New England, of which I am a member. My quarto
edition of tiie same, " Arts et Metiers," I give lo
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 Beiijamin Frank
lin Bache, I do hereby give to him : and such and so many
of my books, as I shall mark in the said catalogue with the
name of my grandson Wilham Bache, I do hereby give to
him: and such as shall be marked with the name of Jona?
than Williams, I hereby give lo my cousin of that name.
The residue and remainder of all my books, manuscripts,
and papers, I do give to my grandson William Temple
Frfinklin. My share in the Library Company of Phila
delphia, I give to my grandson, Benjamin Franklin
Bache, confiding that he v/iil permit his brothers and sis
ters to share in the use of it.
,1 was born in Boston, New England, and owe my first
instructions in litei-ature lo the free grammar schools
established there. 1 therefore give one hundred pounds
sterling to my executors, to be by them, the survivors or
survivor of them, paid over to the managers or directors of
the free-schools in my native town of Boston, lo be by
them, or the person or persons who shall have the superin-
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, aud 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 seled men of the said town shall
seem meet.
Out of the salary that may remain due lo me, as Prcsi-

136 LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
dent of the State, I give the sum of two thousand pounds
o my executors, lo be by them, the survivors or survivor
of them, paid over lo such person or persons as the legisla
ture 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, aud other matters, which were not collected, when,
in 1757, I was sent by the assembly to England as their
affent, 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
justiy due. — These as they are staled in my great folio
ledger, E, I bequeath lo 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 of satisfying such antiquated demands
as just debts, may, howe\«er, be induced to pay or give
them as charity 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 loo,
¦that some of the parties charged may have existing old un
settled accounts against me ; in which case the managers
ofthe said hospital will allow and deduct the amount, or
pay the balance, if they find it against me.
I request my friends, Henry Hill, Esq, John Jay, Esq,
Francis Hopkinson, Esq. and Mr. Edward Duffield, of
Bonfield, in Philadelphia county, to be the executors of
tiii.s my 'ast will and testament, and I hereby nominate and
appoint them for that purpose.

LIFE OF DR, FRANKLIN. 167
1 would have my body buried with as lilfle expense or
weremony 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 pubhsh 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, for the reasons I had given in an article of
my drawing in our constitution, it was my mtention, when
I accepted the office of president, to devote the appointed
salary to some public use ; accordingly I had already, be-i
fore I made ray 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
stale, for the purpose of making the Schuylkil navigable ;
but understanding since, that such a sum will do but littie
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 obhgation lies not on me, who
never inherited a shilling from any ancestgr or relation, I-
shall, however, if it is not diminished by some accident bcr
fore my death, leave a considerable estate among my de
fendants and relations. The above 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
lo their advantage,
I was born in Boston, New England, and owe my first
mstructions in hterature to the free grammar schools
^established there. I have, therefore, considered those
schools in my w.ill.
But I ara also under obhgations to the state of Massa
chussets, for having, unasked, appointed me formerly their
agent,, with a handsome salary, which continued sorae
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 lo 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 lown, and after
wards assisted lo set up my business in Philadelphia by
kind loans of money from two friends there, which was the
foondiilion of my fortune, and of all the utility in life that
may be ascribed lo me — I wish lo be useful even after my
death, if possible, in forming and advancing other joung
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 tiie
town of Boston, in Massachussets, and the other thousand
to the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia, in trust, to
and for the uses, intents, and purposes, herem 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 ofthe 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. 139
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 willmg to become sureties in a bondi
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 lo 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, arid other necessary
and proper records, respecting the business and concerns
ofthis institution ; and as these loMis are intended lo 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 fifteeu pounds.
And if the number of appliers so entitied should be so
large as that the sura will not suffice to afford to each as
much as might otherwise not be improper, the proportjion
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 interesfj,
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 e&sy, each borrower shall
be obhged to pay with the yearly interest, one-tenth part
of the principal; which sums of principal aud 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, by super-

liO LIFE OF DR. FRANKLIN.
intending and managing this institution gratis ; it is hoped
that no part of the money will at any time lie dead, or be
diverted to other purposes, but be continually augmenting
by the interest, in which case, there may in time be more
than the occasion in Boston may require ; and then some
may be spared to the neighbouring or other towns, in, the
said state of Massachussets, which may desire to have it,
such towns engaging lo pay punctually the interes-t, 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 pubhc works, which may be judged of most
general utility to the inhabitants ; such as fortifications,
bridges, aqueducts, public buildings, baths, pavements, or
wlratever 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 beesn found
that the institution has had a good effect, on the conduct
of youth, and been of ser\ice 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 mdlions and sixty-one thousand pounds ster-
Img, of which I leave one million and sixty-one thousand
pounds lo the disposition and management of the inhabit
ants of the town of Boston, and the three millions to the
disposition of the government ofthe state — not presuming
to carry my views farther.
All 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-
.ng and purifying the springs, whence the water ofthe wells
must gradually grow worse, and in lime 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 ofthe eity employ a part ofthe hundred thou
sand pounds in bringing by pipes the water of Wissahickon-
rreek into the lown, so as to supply the inhabitants, which
[apprehend may be done without gTcat difficulty, the level
of that creek being much above that of the city, and may
be made higher by a dam. I also recommend making the
Schuylkil completely navigable. At the end of the second
hundred years, I would have the disposition of the foqr
millions and sixty-one thousand pounds divided 'between
the inhabitants ofthe 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 Massachussets. It is my desire
that this institution should lake place, and begin to operate
within one year after my decease, for which purpose due^
notice should be publicly g'iven, previous to the expiratiou
of that year, that those for whose benefit this estabhshment
is intended may make their respective apphcations : and I
hereby direct, my executors, the survivor or survivors of
them, within six months after my decease, lo pay oyer the
said sum of- two thousand pounds sterling lo such persons
as shallbe 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 al least accept the offer of these dona
tions, as a mark of -ray good will, token of my gratitude,
and testimony of my desire to be useful to them even after
my depar.ture. . I wish, indeed, that they may botii under
take lo 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 acceptino- ;
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, widi a gold head curi
ously wrought in the form of the cap of hberty, I give to
my friend, and the friend of mankind. General Washington.
If it was a sceptre, he has merited it, aud-vyould become it.

BUSYBODY. 143

The Busy-Body.—^o. I, *
Mr, Andrew Bradford,
I design this to acquaint you, that I, who have long been
one of your courteous readers, have lately entertained
some thought of setting up for an author myself; not out
of the least vanity, I assure you, or desire of showing my
parts, but purely for the good of my country,
I have often observed -with concern, that your Mercury
is not always equally entertaining. The delay of ships ex
pected in, and want of fresh advices from Europe, make it
frequently very dull ; and I find the fi-eezing of our river
has the same effect on news as trade. With more concern
have I- continually observed the growing vices and folhes
of my country folk ; and though refonnation is properly
the concern of every man, that is, every one ought to mend
one ; yet it is too true in this case, that what is every
body's business is no body's business, and the business is
done accordingly, I therefore, upon mature dehberation;
think fit to t-dke 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 raorura ; purposing,' with
your allowance, lo make use of the Weekly Mercury as a
vehicle, in which my remonstrances shall be conveyed to th©
world, I ara sensible I have, in this particular, undertaken a
very unthankful office, and expect little besides my labour
for my pains. Nay, it is probable, I may displease a great
number of your readers, who will not -very well like to pay

* These papers appeared in the x\merican Weekly Mer
cury, at various times, during the year 17-28 — 9, and are the
" humoroui^ pieces" mentioned by Di. Franklin in his me
moiis.

144 BUSY-BODY,
ten shillings a year for being 'told of their faiilts. But qs
most people delight in censure, when they themselves are
not the objects of it, if any are offended al my .publicly ex
posing their private vices, I promise they shall have the sa
tisfaction, in a very httle 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 then- 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 eiiibeUishraent of their minds, and brightening
of their understandings, without offending their modesty, I
doubt not of having their favour and encouragement.
Ills 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, il 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 thera witii some well chosen ex
tract from a good author, Tliis I shall sometimes do, when.
1 happen to have nothing of ray own lo say that I think of
more consequence. Sometimes, 1 purpose lo dehver lec
tures of morality or philosophy, and (because I am naturally
inclined to be meddling with things that do not concern
me) perhaps I may sometimes talk politics. 4nd if I can
by any means furnish out a weekly entertainment for the
public, that will give a rational diversion, and at tiie same
time be instructive to the readers, I shah think my leisure
hours well^ employed : and if you publish this, I hereby
invite all ingenious gentiemen and others (that approve
qfsuch au undertaking) lo ray assistance and correspon
dence.

BUSY-BODY. 115
It is like, by this time, you have a curiosity to be ac
quainted with, my name and character. As I do not aim at
public praise, I design to remain concealed : and there are
such numbers of our faraily and relations at this lime in tiie
country, that, though I have signed my name al full length,
I am not under the least appiehension 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,
Itis 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 bs a
pin matter, whether they ever do or no. As I have not
observed the critics lo be more favourable on this account,
I shall always avoid saying any thing ofthe kind ; and con
clude with telhng 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-BODT

The Busy-Body.~^o. II.
All fools have still an itching to deride.
And fiiin would be npon 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, witii 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 sorae company,
that bethought 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
gulation 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 outiaughed, will force him to
continue in a restless obscurity, without having an oppor
tunity of knowing his own merit hiraself, or discovering it
to the world, rather than venture to expose hiraself in a
place, where a pun or a sneer shall pass for wit, noise for
reason, and the strength of the argument be judged by that
of the lungs. Among these willy gentiemen let us take a
view ofRidentius: 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 sonie one of tiie

BUSY-BODY. 147
company to the blush, who perhaps must pay an equal share
of the reckoning with himself. If such a fellow makes
•aughing 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
ofthe fifth.
How different from this character is that of ^Ihe good-
natured, gay Eugenius ! who never spoke yet but with a
design to divert and please ; and who was never yet
baulked in his intention. Eugenius takes more delight in
applying the wit of his friends, than in being admired him
self: and if any one ofthe company is so unfortunate as to
be touched a httle too nearly, he will make use of some in
genious artifice to turn the edge of ridicule another Way,
choosing rather to make himself a public jest, than be at
the pain of seeing his friend in confusion.
Among the tribe of laughers I reckon the pretty gentle
man, that VTites satires, and carry them about in their
pockets, reading them themselves in all company they
happen into ; taking an advantage ofthe ill taste ofthe town,
to make themselves faraous 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 lake lo be the most incorrigible of all my readers ; nay, I
expect they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself;
However, the only favour he begs of them is this, that if they
cannot conlroul their overbearing itch of scribbhng, let him
be attacked in downright biting lyrics ; for there is no satir?
he dreads half so much, as an attempt towards a panegyric,
L 2

148 BUSY-BODY.

The Busy-Body.— '^o. 111.
Non vultus instantis Tyranni
Menti qnatit solida, nee auster.
Dux iiHjuieti turbdius Adriae,
Nee fulniinantis magna Jovis manus. — HoR.
It is said, that the Persians, in their ancient constitu
tion, had public schools, in which virtue was taught as a
hberal art or science : and it is certainly of more conse
quence lo a raan, that he has learnt to govern his passions;
in spite of temptation, to be just in his dealings, to be tem
perate in his pleasures, to support himself with fortitude
under his misfortunes, lo 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 Avorld
besides. Virtue alone is sufficient to make a man great, glorious,
and happy. He' that is acquainted with Calo, as I am,
cannot help thinking as 1 do now, and will acknowledge he
deserves the name, without being honoured by it. Cato is
a man whom fortune has placed in the most obscure part of
the country. His circumstances are such, as only put him
above necessity, without affording him many superfluities:
yet who is greater than Cato ? I happened bul the other
day to be at a house in town, where, among others, were
met, raen of the most note in this place ; Cato had busi
ness with some of them, and knocked al the door. The
most trifling actions of a man, in my opinion, as well as the
smallest features and lineaments of the face, give a nice
observer some notion of his mind. Methought he rapped
in such a peculiar manner, as seemed of itself to express
there was one who deserved as well as desired admission.
He appeared in the plainest country garb ; his great coat
was coarse, and looked old and tiiread bare ; his linen was

BUSY-BODY. 149
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 1 It
was not an exquisite fonn of person, or grandeur of dress,
that struck us with adrairalion. 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 hkewise appeared in all he
said, and in every part of his behaviour, obliging us lo
regard him with a kind of veneration, Plis aspect is
sweetened with humanity and benevolence, and at the 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 undaunted in the presence of the most
great and powerful, and upon the most extraordinary oc
casions. His strict justice and known impartiality make
hira the arbitrator and decider of all differences, that arise
for raany 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 weh; and therefore is never obliged lo 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
tahty 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 layalty to the governraent, his piety,
his temperance, his love to mankind, his magnanimity, his

150 BUSY-BODY.
pubhc spiritedness, and, in fine, Uis consummate virtue,
make him justly deserve to be esteemed the glory of his
country. The brave do never shun the light,
Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers ;
Freely without disguise they love and hate.
Still are they found in the fair face of day,
And heaven and men are judges of their actions. — Rowe.
Who would not rather choose, if ilwere in his choice, to
merit the above character, than be the richest, the most
learned, or the most powerful man in the province without it?
Almost every man has a strong natural desire of being
valued and esteemed by the rest of his species ; but I am
concerned and grieved to see how few fall into the right aud
only infallible method of becoming so. That laudable am
bition is too commonly misapplied, and often ill employed.
Some, lo 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 : bul 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 great, we should become
really great by being good, and the number of valuable men
would be much increased ; but il 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 al the same time truly virtuous.
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 unfeio-ned
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 jTJuyest do thera, than out of gratitude for the favours
thiy h-r'.ve r-ici-ived of bee? 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 thera 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 lo be observed, that if any bad characters happen
to be drawn in the course of these papers, they mean no
particular person, if they are not particularly applied.
Likewise, that the author is no party-man, but a general
meddler. N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring province.

The Busy-Body.— ^o. IV
Kequid uimu.
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 gentiemen 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 wil of our own

152 BUSY-BODY.
growth and produce, I hereby proraisc, that whoever shall
send me a httle 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), I shall receive il with can
dour, and take care lo place it lo the best advantage. It
will be hard, if we cannot muster up in the whole country a
sufficient slock of sense lo supply the Busy-Body at least
for a twelvemonth. For my own part, I 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. Bul as I know the mob hate
instruction, and the generahty would never read beyond
the first line of ray lectures, if -they were actually filled with
nothing but wholesome precepts and advice, I must there
fore sometimes humour them in their own way. There are
a set of great names in the province, who are the common
objects of popular dishke. If 1 can now and tiien over
come my reluctance, and prevail with myself to satirize a
httle one of these gentiemen, the expectation of meeting
with such a gratification will induce many to read me
through, who would otherwise proceed immediately lo 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 lo the contrary, so I doubt not but they will
cheerfully tolerate me in the liberty I design lo 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 al tiie
printer's, is one of the first I have received, which I regard
the more for that il comes frora oiie of the fair spx, and be
cause Ihave myself oftentunes suffered under the o-rievance
tlirrcia complained of.

BUSY-BODY. 153
" To the Busy-Body.
" Sir,
" You having set yourself up for a censuror morum (as
I think you call it) which is said to mean a reformer of
manners, I know no person more proper to be applied to
for redress in all the grievances wc suffer from want of man
ners in some people. You must know, I am a single wo
man, and keep a shop in this lown 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 lirae standing; but of late she raakes her visits so ex
ceedingly often, and slays so very long every visit, that I
am tired out of all patience, I have no manner of time at
all to myself; and you, who seem to be a wise raan, 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
glajd lo have less of her company ; for if I should once hint
such a thing, lam afraid she would resent it so as never lo
darken my door a gain. Bul alas. Sir, I have not yet told
you half my afihction. She has two children that are just
big enough to run about and do pretty mischief : these are
continually along with mamraa, either in my room Or shop,
if I have ever so many customers or people with me about
business. Sometimes they pull the goods off my low shelves
down to the ground, and perhaps where one of thera has
just been making water. My friend takes up the stuff,
and cries, " Oh ! thou iittie wicked mischievous rogue !
But, however, it has done no great damage, it is

1.54 BUSY-BODY.
only wet a little.;" aud 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 uneasmess 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 littie ; I'll put all lo rights before I go." But
things are never so put to rights but that I find a great
deal of work to do after they are gone. Thus, Sir, I have
all the trouble and pesterment of children, without the plea
sure of calhng 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 limes a day, and staid bul half an hour at a time, I
should have been contented, and 1 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 ray counter with
a hammer, that I grew half distracted. I was just then
about lo 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 ofthe first muslin. Pray, Sir,
tell me wlifit 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
loll you besides all tliis : 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, ae it happens, that she is
come to shorten this coraplaint, which I think is full long
enough already, and probably would otherwise have been
as long again. However, 1 rausl confess, I cannot help
pitying ray correspondent's case, and in her behalf, exhort
the visitor lo remeraber 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. Il is, I be
lieve, a nice thing and very difficult, lo regulate our visits
in such a raanner, 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 disobhge, 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 compemy should be
really desired ; yet in this case, loo rauch reservedness 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 occui-rences of hfe, as well
as in a battle. How many impertinencies do we daily suffer
with great uneasiness, because we have not courage
enough to discover our dislike ? And why may not a man
use the boldness and freedom of, telling his friends, that
their long visits sometimes incommode him ? On this oc
casion, it may be entertaining to some of my readers, if 1
acquaint them with the Turkish manner of entertaining vi-
gitors, which I have from an ai^thor of unquestionable yc^

!53, 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 quahty (says he) and have
talked over your business, or the comphments, or what
ever concern brought you thither, he makes a sign lo 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 fini-iliiag
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 hd full of holes, and fixed upon a
handsome plate. In this they put some fresh coals, and
upon them a piece of lignum aloes, aud 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
& good while after.
" This ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous al 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 il is understood to
give a civil dismission lo the visitants, intimating to thera,
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 belter.
By this means you may, at any^time, without offence, de
liver yourself from being detained from your affairs bv

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 lo 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, tiial for the future I
shall put something hke it in practice. I have provided a
bottle of right French brandy for the men, and citron water
for the ladies. After I have treated with a dram, and
presented a pinch of my best snuff, I expect all company
will retire, and leave me to pursue my studies for the good
of the public. Advertisement.
I give notice, that I ara 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, circurastances,
characters, transactions, &c. which will be requisite to the
perfecting and embelhshmenl ofthe said work, are desired
to comraunicate the same to the author, and direct their.
letters to be left with the printer hereof.
The letter signed Would-be-something is come to hand.

The Busy- Body. —No. V.
08, o patriclus sanguis, quos vivere fes est,
Occipiti caeco, posticae occurrite sanoae. — Perstus.
This paper being designed for a terror to evil doers, as
well as praise to thera 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 bul those who have reason to fear me.

158 BUSY-BODY.
There are littie follies in the behaviour of most meij^
which their best friends are too tender to acquaint them
with; there are little vices and small crimes which the law
has no regard to or remedy for : there are likewise great
pieces of villany sometimes so craftily acccT-nphshed, and
so circumspectly guarded, that the law can take no hold of
the actors. All these things, and all things ofthis 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 lo execute my office dihgently and faithfully.
And that all the world may judge with how much hu
manity, as well as justice, I shall behave in this office ; and
that even my enemies m.ay be convinced I take no dehght
to rake into the dunghill lives of vicious men ; and lo the
end that certain persons may be a httle eased of their fears*
and relieved from the terrible palpitations they have lately
felt and suffered, and do stiU suffer; I hereby graciously
pass an act of general oblivion, for all offences, crimes,
and misderaeanors of what kind soever, coraraitted 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 lake no notice who has (heretofore) raised a fortune
by fraud and oppression, nor who by deceit and hypocrisy;
what woraan 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 r
all this, and much more ofthe same kind, I shall fora-et.
and pass over in silence ; bul then it is lo be observed, that
I expect and require a sudden and general amendment.
These Ihreatenings of mine I hope will have a good
effect, and, if regarded, may prevent abundance of folly

BUSY-BODY. 159
and wickedness in others, and, at the same time, save me
abundance of trouble: and that people may not flatter
themselves with the hopes of concealing their loose mis
demeanors from my knowledge, and in that view persist in
evil doing, I must acquaint thera, that I have lately entered
into an intimacy with the extraordinary person, who some
time since wrote me the following letter ; and who, having
a wonderful faculty, that enables him to discover the most
secret iniquity, is capable of giving me great assistance in
my designed work of reformation.
" Mr. Busy-Body,
" I rejoice, Sir, at the opportunity you have given me
to be serviceable to you, and, by your means, to this pro
vince. You must know, that such have been the circura
stances of my hfe, 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 m our particular branch, had not my fa
ther been a traveller. He hved, in his youthful days, in
New England. There he married, and there was born
my elder brother, who had so much ofthis faculty, as to dis-

160 BUSY-BODY,
cover witches in some of their occult performances. My
parents transporting themselves to Great Britain, ray 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 raountainous places, look ship
ping, with his wife, for Scotland, and inhabited in the
Highlands, where rayself was born ; and whether the soil,
cliraate, or astral influences, of which are preserved divers
prognostics, restored our ancestor's natural faculty of se
cond sight, in a greater lustre lo me, than it had shined in
through several generations, I wifl not here discuss. But
so it IS, that I ara possessed largely of il, 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 sliiflings
from one country to another, wisely changed it. •
" Su% I have only this further to say, how I maybe use
ful to you, and as a reason for my not making myself more
known in the world : by virtue of this great gift of nature,
second-sightedness, 1 do continually see numbers of men,
women, and children, of all ranks, and what they are doino-,
while I ara sitting in ray closet ; which is too great a bur
den for ray raind, and makes me also conceit, even against
reason, that all tiiis host of people can see and observe mc,
which strongly mclines 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. 161
I conceal this correspondent's name, in my care for his
life and safety, and canriot but approve his -prudence, in
choosing to live obscurely, I remeraber the fate .of my
poor monkey : he had an ill-natured trick of grinning and
chattering at every thing he saw in petticoats : my ignorant
country neighbours got a notion, that pug snarled by in
stinct al every feraale who had lost her virginity. This was
no sooner generally believed, than he was conderaned lo
death : by whom I could never learn ; bul he was assassi
nated in the night, barbarously stabbed and raangled in a
thousand places, and left hanging dead on one of my gate
posts, where I found him the next- morning,
I The censor observing, that the itch of scribbhng begins
to spread exceedingly, and being carefully tender of the
reputation of »iis country, in point of wil and good sense,
has determined to take all manner 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, tiU 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 the
above prohibition, and without exam.ination, 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 ofthis, to bum his great book of crudities.
P, S, In compassion to that young man, on account of
the great pains he has taken, m 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
©rder.

162 BUSY-BODY.

Noli me tangere,
1 had resolved, when I first commenced this design, ore
no account to enter into a public dispute with any man ;
for I judged it would be equally unpleasant to me and my
readers, lo see 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 thmg 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 raan of worth.
But as I haVe raany thuigs of more consequence lo offer
the put)Hc, 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 Busv
Body, The sum 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
rily, and therefore can have no pretence to religion, I am
represented as guilty of defamation and scandal, the
odiousness of which is apparent lo every good man, and the
practice of il opposite to Christianity, morality, and com
mon justice, and, in some cases, so far below all these, as
o be inhuman; as a blaster of reputations; as allcmplino-,
y a pretence, to screen myself from the imputation of ma-
»ice and prejudice ; as using a weapon, which the wiser and
oelter part of mankind hold in abhorrence ; and as o-ivinw
treatment which tiie wiser and belter part of mankind dislike

BUSY-BODY. 168
on the same principles, and for the same reason, as they do
assassination, &c. and all this is inferred and concluded
from a character I have wrote in my Number III.
In order to examine the justice and truth of this heavy
charge, let us recur to that character. And here we may
be surprised to find what a trifle 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 whora my accuser has applied
the character of Cretico) is, that he is a sour philosopher,
crafty, but not wise. Few humane characters can be
drawn that will not fit some body, in so large a country as
this ; bul one would think, supposing I meant Cretico a
real person, I had sufficiently manifested my impartiality,
when I saidi. m that very paragraph, that Cretico is not
without virtue; that there are many good things' in him,
and many good actions reported of him ; which must be
allowed in all reason, very much lo 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 Calo 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-nol to continue drawing characters, viz. Why
should any man's picture be pubhshed which he never sat
for? or his good name taken from him any more than his
money or possessions, at the arbitrary will of another, &c. ?
I have but this to answer : thi money or possessions, I
presurae, are nothing to the purpose ; since no man can
claim a right either to those or a good name, if he has
acted so as lo forfeit them. And are not the public the
only judges what share of reputation they think proper lo
allow any man? Supposing I was capable, aud had an in
M 2

164 fiUSY-BODY,
clination, to draw all the good and bad chaj-acters in
America, why should a good man be offended with me for
drawing good characters ? And if I draw ill ones, can they
fit any but those that deserve them ? And ought any but
such lo 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 il 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.
Bul 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 lo say, he had defamed and scan-
dahzed me, unless he had added in a matter of truth ? If
any thing is meant by asking, why any man's picture should
be published which he never sat for? il 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
Ijrevent him? If I know a raan to be a designing knave,
must I ask his consent, to bid my friends beware of him?
If so, then, by the same rule, supposing the Busy-Body
had really merited all his enemy had charged him with, his
consent likewise ought to have been obtained, before so
terrible an accusation was published against him,
I shall conclude with observing, that in the last para
graph save one of the piece now examined, much ill-nature
and some good sense are co-mhabitanls (as he expresses
it). The ill-nature appears, in his endeavouring to discover

BUSY-BODY. 165
satire, where I intended no such thing, but quite the re
verse : the good sense is this, that drawing too good a
character of any one is a refined manner of satire, that
may be as injurious to him as the contrary, by bringing on
an examination that undresses the person, and in the haste
of doing it, he may happen to be slripl of what he really
owns and deserves. As I am censor, I might punish the
first, but I forgive it. Yet I will not leave the latter un
rewarded ; bul assure my adversary, ^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  1 for his kind
letter. The lions complained of shall be muzzled.

The Busy-Body.— No. VIII
Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames ? — -Virgil. -
One of the greatest pleasures an author can have, ij,
certainly, the hearing his works applauded. The hiding
ffom the world our names, while we publish our thoughts,
is so absolutely necessary to this self-gratification, that I
hope my well-wishers will congratulate me on my espape frotti
the many dihgent, but fruitless inquiries, that have of late
been raade after me. Every raan will own, that an author,
as such, ought lo be hid by the merit of his productions
only ; but pride, party, and prejudice, at this time, run so
very high, that experience shows we form our notions of a
piece by the character of the author. Nay, there are sorae
very humble politicians in and about this city, who will ask,
on which side the writer is, before they presume lo give
their opmion of the thing wrote. This ungenerous way

166 BUSY-BODY.
of proceeding I was well aware of before I pubhshed my
first speculation; and therefore concealed my name. And
I appeal to the more generous part of the world, if I have,
since I appeared in the character ofthe Busy-Body, given
an instance of my siding with any party more than another,
in tiie 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 partiahty to
wards any raan, or sel of men ; but whatsoever I find
nonsensical, ridiculous, or immorally dishonest, 1 have,
and shall continue openly to attack, with the freedom of
an honest man, and a lover of my country.
I profess I can hardly contain myself, or preserve the
gravity and dignity that should attend the censorial office,
when I hear the odd and unaccountable expositions that
are put upon some of my works, through the mahcious ig
norance of some, and the vain pride of more than ordinary
penetration in others ; one instance of which many of ray
readers are acquainted with, A certain gentleman has taken
a great deal of pains lo 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 sorae of the government. This I mention only as a
specimen of the taste of the gentleman ; I am, forsootii,
bound to please in my speculations, not that I suppose my
impartiality will ever be called in question on that account.
Injustices of this nature I could complain of in many in
stances ; but I am at present diverted by the reception of
a letter, which, though il regards me only in my private ca
pacity, as an adept, yet I venture to publish il for the eu-
tertainment of my readers.

BUSY-BODY. 167
^^ To Censor Morum, Esq. Busy-Body Q'eneral of the
Province of Pennsylvania, and the Counties of New
castle, Kent, and Sussex upon Delaware.
" Honourable Sir,
" I judge by your lucubrations, that you are not only a
lover of truth ana equity, but a raan 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 adrairer of, that
divine science, astrology, I have read over Scot, Alberlus
Magnus, and Comehus Agrippa, above three hundred
times ; and was in hopes, by my knowledge and industry,
to gain enough lo have recompensed me for my money ex
pended, and the lime lost in the pursuit of this learning.
You cannot be ignorant. Sir (for your inliraale second-
sighted correspondent knows all things), that there
are large suras 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, lo propose and desire an acquaintance
with you, and I do not doubt, notwithstanding my repeated
ill fortune, but we may be exceedingly serviceable to each
other in our discoveries ; and that if we use our united en
deavours, the time will come, when the Busy-Body, his
second-sighted correspondent, and your very humble ser
vant, will be three of the richest men in the province : and
then. Sir, what may we not do ? A word to the wise is
sufficient, " I conclude with all demonstrable respect,
" Your's and Urania's votary,
" TITAN PLEIADES. '

168 BUSY-BODY.
In the evening after I had received this letter, I made <t
visit to my second-sighted friend, and communicated to
him the proposal. When he had read it, he assured me,
that lo his certain knowledge, there is not at this time so
much as one ounce of silver or gold hid under ground in
any part of this province ; for that the late and present
scarcity of money had obliged those, who were hving, and
knew where they had formerly hid any,'lo lake il up, and
use it in their own necessary affairs : and as to all the rest,
which was buried, by pirates and others in old limes, who
were never like lo come for il, he himself had long since
dug it all up, and apphed it to charitable uses ; and ibis lie
desired me to publish for the general good. For, as he
acquainted me, there are among us great numbers of honest
artificers and labouring people, who, fed with a vain hope
of growing suddenly rich, neglect their business, almost lo
the ruining of themselves and families, and voluntarily en
dure abundance of fatigue in a fruitless search after imagi
nary hidden treasure. They wander through the woods
and bushes by day, to discover the marks and signs ; at
midnight they repair lo the hopeful spots with spades and
pickaxes ; full, of expectation, they labour violently, trem-
bhng at the same time in every joint, through fear of cer
tain mahcious demons, who are said to haunt and guard
such places. Al 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, tlial through some mistake in the procedure,
some rash word spoke, or some rule of art neglected, the
guardian spirit had power lo sink it deeper into the earth,
and convey it out of their reach. Yet, when a man is onc^
tiius infatuated, he is so far from being discouraged by ill
success, that he is rather animated lo double his industry,
and will try again and again in a hundred different places.

BUSY-BOPY. 169
in hopes at last of meeting 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 this
practice, through an overweening desire of sudden wealth,
and an easy credulity of what they so earnestly wished
might be true. While the rational and almost certain me
thods of acquiring riches by industry and frugality are
neglected or forgotten. There seems lo 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 apphcation,
get together to the value of half a crown, I make no
question bul we should find several people employed there,
that can with ease earn five shillings a day at their proper
trades. Many are the idle stories told ofthe private success of
some people, by which others are encouraged lo proceed ;
and the astrologers, with whora the country swarms at this
time, are either in the belief of these things themselves, or
find their advantage in persuading others to beheve thera ;
for they are often consulted about the critical times fot
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 bevritching in the pur
suit after mines of gold and silver and other valuable
metals, and many have been ruined by it. A sea-captain
of my acquaintance used to blame the English for envying

170 BUSY-BODY.
Spain their mines of silver, and too much despising or
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 lo 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, Avho 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 lakes when he is on his shop
board is picking up part of a grain of gold, that will in a
few days time amount lo a pistole ; and let Faber think
the same of every nail he drives, or every stroke with his
plane. Such thoughts may make them industrious, and of
consequence in time they may be wealthy. But how ab
surd is il lo neglect a certain profit for such a ridiculous
whimsey : to spend whole days al the George, in company
with an idle pretender to astrology, contriving schemes to
discover what was never hidden, and forgetful how care
lessly business is managed at home in their absence : to
leave their wives and a warra bed at midnight (uo 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 al least dis
ordering theraselves so as to be fit for no business beside
for some days after. Surely this is nothing less than the
most egregious folly and madness.
I shall conclude with the words of my discreet friend,
Agricola, of Chester county, when he gave his son a o-ood
plantation :— " My son," says he, " I give thee now a va-

THE WAY TO WEALTH. 171
luable parcel of land ; I assure thee I 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 raore 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 gives an author so great
pleasure, as to find his works respectfully quoted by others.
Judge, then, how rauch I must have been gratified by an
incident I am going to relate to you. I slopped my horse
lately, where a great number of people were collected, at
an auction of merchants' goods. The hour of the sale not
being come, they were conversing on the badness of the
times ; and one of the company called lo 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 counti-y? How shah we ever be able lo pay them?
What would you advise us to?' Father Abraham stood
stood up, and replied, ' If you would have my advice, I
will give il you in short, " for a word to the wise is enough,"
as poor Richard says.' They joined in desiring him lo
speak his mind, and, gathering round him, he proceeded as
follows :
' Friends,' says he, ' the taxes are, indeed, very heavy,
and, if those laid on by the government were the only ones
we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them ; but
we have many others, and much more grievous to some of
us. We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three
times as much by our pride, and four times as much by our

172 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 thera 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, hke rust, consumes faster than labour wears,
while the used key is always bright," as poor Richard says.
" But dost thou love hfe, then do not squander lirae, for
that is the stuff life is raade of," as poor Richard says.
How rauch 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
the purpose ; so by diligence shall we do more with less
perplexity. " Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry
all easy ; and he that riseth late must trot all the day, and
shaU 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 hves 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 smartiy

THE WAY TO WEALTH. 173
taxed. " He that hath a Irade; 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 al,
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, bul dares not enter". Nor
will the bailiff or the constable enter, for " indusfry
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 il 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 we^e a servant, would you not be
asharaed that a good master should catch you idle? Are
you 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 miccj" as poor Richard says. It is true there
is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed ;
bul slick to it steadily, and you will see great effects, for
" constant dropping wears away stones; and by. dihgence
and patience the mouse ate in two the cable; and httle
strokes fell great oaks,"
' Methinks I hear some of you say, " must a man afford
himself no leisure ?" I will tell thee, my friend, what poor
Richard says ; " employ thy tune 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 dihgent man will obtain, but the

174 THE WAY TO WEALTH.
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 slock ;" whereas in
dustry gives comfort, and plenty, aud respect. " Fly plea
sures, and they will follow you. The diligent spinner has
a large shift; and now I have a sheep and a cow, every
body bids me good-morrow."
' II. Bul with our industry we must like-wise be steady,-
settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our
own eyes, and not trust too much to others ; for, as poor
Richard says,
" I never saw an oft-removed tree.
Nor yet an oft-removed family.
That throve so well as those that settled be."
And again, " three removes arc as bad as a fire ;" and
again, " keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee ;" and
agam, ".if you would have your busmess done, go; if not,
send." And again,
" He that by the plough would thrive.
Himself must either hold or driye."
And again, " the eye of a master will do more work than
both his hands ;" and again, " want of care does us more
damage than want of knowledge ;" and again, "not to
oversee workmen, is lo leave them your purse open."
Trusting loo much lo 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 littie 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 industiy my friends, and attention
to one's own business; hullo these we must add fruo-ality,
if we would make our industry more successful, A man

THE WAY TO WEALTH 175
may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, " keep his
nose all his life lo the grindstone, and die not worth a groat
at last, A fat kitchen makes a lean will ;" and
" Many estates are spent in the getting,
Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting.
And men for punch forsook hewing aud splitting."
" If you would 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, game and deceit,
Make the wealth small, and the want great."
And farther, " what maintains one vice. Would bring up
two children." You may think, perhaps, that a little tea,
or a little punch now and then, diet a little more costly,
clothes a little finer, and a httle entertainment now and
then, can be no great matter ; but remember, " many a
little makes a mickle." Beware of httle expenses ; " a
small leak will sink a great ship," as poor Richard says ;
and again, " who dainties love, shall beggars prove ;" and
moreover, " fools make feasts, and wise men eat them."
' Here you are all got together lo 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 then),
they must be dear to you. Remember what poor Richard
says, " buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou
shall 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 thee in thy business, may do thee more harm
than good. For in another place he says, " many havo

176 THE WAY TO WEALTH.
been ruined by buying good penny-worths," Again, " it
is foolish lo lay out money in a purchase of repentance ;"
and yet this folly is practised every day al auctions, for
want of minding the almanack. Many a one, for the sake of
finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly, and half
starved their famihes ; " silks and^sattins, 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 lo have thera? By these and other
extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and
forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, bul
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 littie
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 tiiis 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 goe* a bor
rowing goes a sorrowing," ns poor Piichard says ; and in
deed so does be that lends lo such people, when he goes lo
get it in again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says,
" Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse.
Ere fancy you consult, consult your puroc."
And again, " pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great
deal raore 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, " il is easier to suppress
the first desire than lo 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 this
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 ; il creates envy,
it hastens misfortunes,
' But what madness must it be lo run in debt for these
superfluities ! We are offered, by the terms of this sale,
six months credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of
us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money,
and hope now lo be fine without it. Bat ah I think what
you do when you run in debt ; you give to another power
over your liberty, Tf 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 lo be
ashamed hor afraid lo see or speak to any raan living, Bul
poverty often deprives a raan 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 lo 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

178 THE WAY TO WEALTH.
breach of your privileges, and such a governraent tyranni'-
cal? And yet you are about to put yourself under that
tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress ! Your cre
ditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your
hberty, by confining you in gaol for life, or by selling you
for a servant, if you should not be able to pay hira. When
you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little
of payment; but, as poor Richard says, " creditors have
belter 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 lo his heels as well as his shoulders.
" Those have a short lent, who owe money to be paid at
Easier." Al present, perhaps, you may think yourselves
in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little
extravagance without injury ; bul
" 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
hve, expense is constant and certain; and, " itis 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 you get hold,
'Tis the stone that will turn all vour lead into gold."
And when you have got tiie 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 loo much upon your owh in
dustry, aud frugality, and prudence, though excellent
tilings; for they may all be blasted, without the blessing

THE WAY TO WEALTH. 179
from heaven ; and tiierefore ask that blessing humbly, and
be not uncharitable to those that al present seem to want
it, but comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered,
and was afterwards prosperous.
' And now, to conclude, " experience keeps a dear
school, but fools will learn in no other," as .poor Richard
says, and scarce in that; for, it is true, " we may give ad
vice, bul we cannot give conduct :" however, remember this,
" Ihey-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 il 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 on
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 ofthe 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 lo buy stuff for a new coat,
I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer.
Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great
as mine. I am, as ever.
Thine to serve thee,
RICHARD SAUNDERS

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 mfe, I write the following hints,, which have
been of service to me, and may, if observed, be so to you.
Remeraber, that time is money. He, that can earn ten
shilhngs a day by his labour, and goes abroad, or sits idle
one half of that day, though he spends bul 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.
Remeraber, 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 lo a considerable sum where a man has good and
large credit, and makes good use of it.
Remeraber, 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 il produces
every turning, so that the profits rise quicker and quicker.
He that kiUs 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 maybe daily wasted either in time
or expense unperceived) a man of credit may, on his own
security, have the constant possession and use of an 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 lime he promises may atany time, and on
any occasion, raise all theTuoney 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: bul if he sees you al a billiard
table. Or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be
at work, he sends for his money the next day ; demands it
before he can receive il in a lump.
It shows, besides, that you are mindful of vVhatyou owe ;
il 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 raany people who
have credit fall into. To prevent Ihis, keep an exact account
for sorae lirae, both of your expenses and your income. If
you take the pains at first lo mention particulars, il will
have this good effect: you will discover how wonderfully
small trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will
discern what might have been and may for the future be
saved, without occasioning any great inconvenience, "
In short, the way lo wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as
the way to market, Il depends chiefly on two words, in
dustry andfrugality ; that is, waste neither time nor money,
but make the best use of both. Without industry and fru-
gahty nothing will do, and with them every thing. He that
gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets (necessary
expenses excepted) will certainly becorae 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, Fqr six pounds a year you may have the use of one
hundred pounds, provided you are a man of known pru
dence and honesty.
Pie that spends a groat a day idly, spends idly above six
pounds a year, which is the price for the use of one hundred
pounds. He that wastes idly a groat's worth of his time per day,
one day with another, wastes the privilege of using one
hundred pounds each day.
He that idly loses five shillings worth of lime, 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 lo 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 lo 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
terest 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 ofthis advance.
He that pays ready money, escrpes, or may escape, that
charge. A penny sav'd is two-pence clearj
A pin a day's a groat a year.

The way to make Money Plenty in every Mans Pocket.
At this lime, when the general complaint is, that " mo
ney is scarce," it will be an act of kindness lo 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. 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 shall thou be a man, and not
hide thy face at the approach of the rich, nor suffer the
pain of feeling little when the sons of fortune walk at thy
right hand: for independency, whether with httle or much,
is o-oftd fortune and placelh thee on even ground with the

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 reachesl the evening hour for rest. Let honesty
be as the breath of thy soul, and never fogel to have a
penny when all thy expenses are enumerated and paid •
then shall thou reach the point of happiness, and inde
pendence shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helraet and
crown ; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor sfoop to the
silken wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse
because the hand which offers il wears a ring set with
diamonds.

New Mode of Lending Money.
Paris, April 22, 1784.
I send you herewith a bill for ten louis d'ors, I do not
pretend to give such a sura, I only lend it to you,' When
you shall return to your country, you cannot fail gelling into
sorae business, that wiU in lime enable you to pay all your
debts. In that case, when you raeet with another honest
man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending this
sura 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 proo-ress.
This is a trick of raine for doing a good deal with a little
money, . I ara not rich enough to afford much m good
works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the
mo.st of a httle,
B, FRANKLIN.

• ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 185
An Economical Project.,
T6 THE AUTHORS OF THE JOURNAL,
Messieurs,
You often entertain us with accounts of new discoveries.
Permit me to coramunicate lo the pubhc, through your
paper, one that has lately been made by myself and which
I conceive raay be of great utihty.
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 il 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, ifpossible, thp 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.
1 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 su|"prised 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 al the windows. I got up and looked out to
see what might be the occasion of il, when I saw the sun
just rising above the horizon, from whence he poured his
rays plentifully into my chamber, my domestic having
neghgently omitted the preceding evening to close the
shutters. I looked al my watch, which goes very well, £lnd found
that it was but six o'clock ; and still thinking it something

186 ECONOMICAL PROJECT
eitraordicary, that the sun should rise so early, I looked
into the almanac, where I found it to be the hdar given
for his rising on that day. I looked forward too, and found
he was to rise still eariier 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 witii me
have never seen any signs of sunshine before noon, and
seldom regard the astronomical part of the almanac, will
be as ranch astonished as I was, when they hear of his
rising so early ; and especially when I assure them, that he
gives light as soon as he rises. 1 am convinced of this. I
ara certain of my fact. One cannOl be more certain of any
fact. I saw it with ray 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 hght coming into my room ;
for it being well known, as he says, that there could be no
light abroad al 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 hght, 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 littie,
but he did not satisfy me ; and the subsequent observations
I made, as above mentioned, confirmed me in my first
opinion. This event has given rise in my mind to several serious and
important reflections. I considered that, if I had not been
awakened so early in the morning, I should have slept six
hours longer by the light of tiie sun, and iii exchano-e have

ECONOMICAL PROJECT. 187
lived six hours the following night by candlelight ; and the
latter being a rauch more expensive light than the former,
my love of economy induced me to muster up what httle
arithraetic I was master of, and to make some calculations,
which I shall give you, after observing that utility is, in
my opinion, tht test of value in matters of invention, and
that a discovery which can be applied lo no use, or is not
good for soraething, is good for nothing.
I look for the basis of my calculation the supposition
that there are 100,000 famihes 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  183
Hours of each night in which we burn
candles ---------- 7
Multiplication gives for the total number
of hours ---------- J, 281
These 1,281 hours multiphed by 100,000,
the number of inhabitants, give - - -126,100,000
One hundred twenty-eight millions and
pne hundred thousand hours at Paris by
candle-hght, which, al half a pound of
wax and tallow per hour, gives the
weight of , - - -  64,050,000

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
lournois  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 il should be said, that people are apt to be obstinately
attached to old customs, and that it will be difficult lo in
duce them to rise before noon, consequently my discovery
can be of little use ; I answer. Nil desperandum. I be
heve all who liaye common sense, as soon as they have
learnt from this paper that it is day-light when the sun
rises, will contrive lo rise with him ; and, to compel the
rest, I would propose the following regulations :
First. .Let a tax be laid of a louis, per window, on
every window that is provided with shutters to keep out
the light of the sun.
Second. Let the same salutaiy operation of police be
made use of to prevent our burning candles, that inclined
us last winter to be more economical in burning wood;
that is, let guards be placed in the shops of the wax and
tallow chandlers, and no family be permitted lo be supplied
with raore 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 raid wives.
Fourth. Every raorning, as soon as the sun rises, let all
the bells in every church be set ringing; and if that is not.
sufficient, let cannon be fired in every street, to wake the-
sluggards effectually, and make them open their eyes to
see their frue interest.
All tiie difficulty will be in the first two or three days :;

ECONOMICAL PROJECT. l89
after which the reformation will be as natural and easy as
the present irregularity : for, oe ricst que le premier pas qui
coute. Obhge a man to rise at four in the morning, and it
is more than probable he shall go willingly lo bed al eight
in the evening ; and, having had eight hours sleep, he will
rise more wilhngly at four the morning following. But this
sum of ninety-six milhons and seventy-five thousand hvres
is not the whole of what may be saved by my economical
project. You may observe, that I have calculated upon
only one half of the year, and much may be saved in the
other, though the days are shorter. Besides, the immense
stock of wax and tallow left unconsumed during the sum
mer will probably make candles much cheaper for the en
suing winter, and continue them cheaper as long as the
proposed reformation shall be supported.
For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely com
municated and bestowed by me on the pubhc, I demand
neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, nor any other
reward whatever, I expect only to have the honour of it.
And yet I know there are little envious minds who will, as
usual, deny me this, and say, that my invention was known
to the ancients ; and perhaps they may bring passages out
of the old books in" proof of it, I will not dispute with
these people, that the ancients knew not the sun would rise
al certain hours; they possibly had, as we have, almanacs
that predicted it : but it does not follow from thence, that
they knew he gave light as soon as he rose. This is what
I claim as my discovery. If the ancients knew it, il inight
have been long since forgotten, for it certainly 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-
«j[uired from them by the necessities ofthe state, have surely

190 THE WHISTLE,
an abundant reason to be economical, I say it is impos
sible, that so sensible a people, under such circumstances,
should have hved 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.W,\7'79.
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 for to-day, because I have not an
swered the former. But indolent as 1 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 lo see you ; instead of
spending this Wednesday evening, as I have done its name-.
sakes, in your delightful corapany, t sit down to spend it
in thinking o^' 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 yofl^''
conclusion, that in the mean lirae, 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 lo give too rauch for whistles.
For to me il seems, that most of the unhappy people we
meet -with, are become so by neglect of that caution.
You ask what I mean. Y'ou love stories, and will ex
cuse my telhng one of myself.

THE WHISTLE. 191
When 1 was a child, at seven years old, my friends, on
a hohday, 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 il as il 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 ray mind; so that often, when I wais
templed to buy some unnecessary thing, I said lo myself.
Don't give toa much for the whistle; and so I saved my
money. As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the
actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many,
who gave too much for the whistle.
When I saw any one too ambitious of court favours, sa
crificing his time in attendauce on levees, his repose, his
liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I
have said lo 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
tlie esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent

i92 THE WHISTLE.
friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth. Poor
man, says I, you pay too much for your whistle.
When I meet a raan 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
houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune,
for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison,
Alas, says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.
When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl, married to
an ill-natured brute of a husband. What a pity it is, says I,
ihat 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 thefr giving
too rauch for their whistles.
Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people,
when I consider, that with all this wisdom of which I ara
boakSng, there are certain things in the world so tempting,
for example, the apples of KingJohn, which happily are not
to be bought ; for if they were put to sale by auction, I
might very easily be led lo ruin rayself in the purchase, and
find, that I had once more given too much for the whistle.
Adieu, ray dearest friend ; and oelieve me ever yours
very sincerely and with unalterab e affection,
B. FRANKLIN.

PETITION OP THE LEFT liAND. 193
A Petition to those who have the Superintendency of
Education.
I address myself lo all the friends of youth, and conjure ,
them to direct their compassionate regards lo my unhappy
fate, in order to remove the prejudices of which I ara the
victim. There are twin sisters of us ; and the two eyes of
man do not more resemble, nor are capable of being upon
belter 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 lo consider my sister as a being of a more
elevated rank. I was suffered to grow up without the least
instruction, wliile nothing was spared in her education.
She had masters to teach her writing, drawing, music, and
other accomplishments ; bul 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 ; bul she always made a
point of taking the lead, calhng 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 il in confi
dence upon this occasion, that she is subject lo 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 having placed so great a diflference between
sisters, who are so perfectly equal ? Alas ! we must perish
frora distress : for it would not be in my power even to
o

104 HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG.
scrawl a suppliant petitioii for relief, having been obliged
to employ Ihe hand of another in transcribing the request,
which I have now the honour lo prefer to you.
Condescend, Sirs, lo 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 Leg.
There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with
equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other comforts
of life, become, the one happy, and the other miserable.
This arises very much from the different views in which
they consider things, persons, and events ; and the effect
of those diffei-ent 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 heller and worse taste, dishes better and worse
dressed ; in whatever climate, they wifl find good and bad
weatlier; under whatever government, tiiey may find good
and bad laws, and good and bad administration of those
laws ; in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may see
faults and beauties ; in almost every face, and every per
son, they may discover fine features and defects, good and
bad quahties.
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, tlie pleasant parts of
conversation, tiie well-dressed dishes, the goodness ofthe

HANDSOiME AND DEFORMED LEG. 193
•wities, 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 the 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, and is unawares grown into a habit, which, though al
present strong, may nevertheless be cured, when those
who have it are convinced of its bad effects on their feli
city; I hope this httle 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
the most common civility and respect, and scarcely that;
and this frequently puts thera out of humour, and draws
thera into disputes and contentions. If they aim-al 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, an(^ render them completely
odious. If these people will not change this bad habit,
•and condescend lo be pleased with what is pleasing, with
out fretting themselves and others about the contraries, it
is good foi- others to avoid an acquaintance with them ;
vrhich is always disagreeable, and sometimes very incon
venient, especially when one finds oneself entangled jn their
quarrels. An old pliilosophical friend of mine was grown, from ex
perience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully
o 2

196 MORALS OF CHESS.
avoided any intimacy with such people. He had, like other
philosophers, a thermometer, lo show him the heal of the
weather, and a barometer, lo raark when il was hkely to
prove good or bad; but there being no instrument in
vented lo 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, al 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 lo 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 lake the same reso
lution of avoiding the acquaintance of those infected with
il. 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 numberiess ages, been
the amusement of all the civilised nations of Asia, the
Persians, the Indians, and the Chinese. Europe has had
il above a thousand years, the Spaniards have spread il
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 cngatfin<v in it • and
thence it is never played for money. Those, thereforo

MORALS OF CHESS, 197
who have leisure for such diversions, cannot find one that
IS raore 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 il may, in its effects on the mind, be not merely inno
cent, but advantageous, to the vanquished as well as the
victor. The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement.
Several very valuable quahties of the mind, useful in the
course of human life, are to be acquired or strengthened
by it, so as to become habits, ready on all occasions. For
life is a kind of chess, in which we have often points to
gain, and competitors or adversaries to contend with, and
in which there is a .vast variety of good and ill events, that
are, in sorae 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 ray adversary make of it lo annoy me ? What
other moves can I make lo support il, and to defend my
self from his attacks ?" ,
II. Circumspection, which surveys the whole chess
board, or scene of action, the relations of the several
pieces and situations, the dangers they are respectively ex-
pofedto, the several possibilities of their aiding each other,
the probabilities that the adversary may take this or that
move, and attack this or the other piece, and what different
means can be used to avoid his stroke, or turn its conse
quences against him.
III. Caution, not to make our moves too hastily. This
habit is acquired by observing strictly the laws ofthe game,
such as; " If you touch a piece, you must move il some
where ; if you set it down, you must let it stand ;" and it is

m MORALS OF CHESS.
therefore best that these rules should be observed, as th*
game thereby becomes raore the image of human life, and
particularly of war; in wliich^ if you have incautiously put
yourself into a bad and dangerous position, you cannot
obtain your enemy's leave lo withdraw your troops, and
place them raore 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
affairs, the habit of hoping for a favourable change, and
that ot persevering in the search of resources. The game
is so full of events, there is such a variety of turns in
it, the fortune of it is so subject lo sudden vicissitudes,
and one so frequently, after long contemplation, discovers
the means of extricating oneself frora a supposed insur
mountable difficulty, that one is encouraged lo continue
the contest to the last, in hopes of victory by our own skill,
or at least of getting a stale mate, by the negligence of
our adversary. And whoever considers, what in chess
he often sees instances of, th-al particular pieces of success
are apt lo produce presumption, and its consequent inat
tention, by which the loss may be recovered, will learn
not to be too much discouraged by the present success of
his adversary, nor to despair of final good fortune upon
^very little check he receives in the pursuit of il.
That we may, Jherefore, be induced more frequently to
choose this beneficial amusement, in preference to others
which are not attended with tiie same advantao-es, every
circumstance which may increase the pleasures of il 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 lo the unmediate intention of both
the players, which is to pass the time agreeably.
Therefore, first, if it is agreed to play according to the
itrict rules ; then those rules are to be exactly observed

MORALS OF CHESS. 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 il is agreed not to observe the rules exactiy,
but one parly demands indulgences, he should then be as
willing to allow them lo the other.
Thirdly, no false move should ever be made to extricate
yourself out of difficulty, or to gain an advantage. There
can be no pleasure in playing with a person once detected
in such unfair practice.
Fourthly, if your adversary is long in playing, you ought
not to hurry him, or express any uneasiness at his delay.
You should not sing, nor whistle, nor look al your watch,
nor take up a book lo read, nor make a tapping- with your
feel on the floor, or with your fingers .on the table, nor do
any thing that may disturb his attention. For all thes«
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 lo have made' bad
moves, and saying, that you have now lost the game, in or
der to make hira secure and careless, and inattentive lo
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 lo 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, bul you are a
little inattentive ;" or, " you play loo fast ;" or, you had tiie
best ofthe game, but something happened lo 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 advice,
you offend both parties ; hjm against whom you give it, be-

200 MORALS OF CHESS.
cause it nray cause the loss of his game, him in whose fa
vour you give it, because, though it be good and he
foUows it, he loses the pleasure he might have had,
if you had permitted him lo think until it had occurred to
himself. Even after a move or moves, you must not, by
replacing the pieces, show how il might have been placed
better : for that displeases, and raay 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
partj', by any kind of noise or motion. If you do, you are
unworthy lo be a spectator. If you have a mind to exer
cise or show your judgment, do it in playing your own
garae, when you have an opportunity, not in criticising, or
Jneddling with, or counselhng the play of others.
Lastly, if the game is not to be played rigorously, ac
cording to the rules above mentioned, then moderate your
desire of victory over your adversary, and be pleased with
one over yourself. Snatch not eagerly at every advantage
offered by his unskilfulness or inattention ; but point out to
him kindly, that by such a move he places or leaves a piece
in danger and unsupported ; that by another he will put his
king in a perilous situation, &c. By this generous civihty
(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 sileUt approbation and good- will
of impartial spectators.

TO PROCURE PLEASANT DREAMS, 20V
The Art of procuring Pleasant Dreams.
INSCRIBED TO MISS •**»
Being written at her requett.
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 preserving 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 thera : the first proraotes, the latter, unless
moderate, obstructs digestion. If, after exercise, we feed
sparingly, the digestion will be easy and good, the body
lightsorae, the teraper cheerful, and all the animal functions
performed agreeably. Sleep, when il 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.
Obserye, however, that the quantity of food and exercise
are relative things : those who move much may, and indeed
ought, lo 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 ; bul restiess nights
naturally follow hearty suppers, after full dinners. In-

202 TO PilOCURE PLEASANT DREAMS.
deed, as there is a difftrcnce in constitutions, some rest
well after these meals ; il costs thera only a frightful dream,
and an apoplexy, alter which they sleep till doomsday.
Nothing is raore common in the newspapers, than instances
of people, who, alter eating a hearty supper, are found dead
a-bed in the morning.
Another means of preserving health, to be attended to,
IS the having a constant supply of fresh air in your bed
chamber. It has been a great mistake, the sleeping in
rooms exactly closed, and in beds surrounded by curtains.
No outward air that may come into you is so 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 Hving bodies do not putrily, it 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 caiTied off; but in a
close room, we receive them again and again, though they
become more and more corrupt. A. number of persons
crow4ed into a small room thus spoil the air in a few m.i-
nules, and even render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at
Calcutta. A single person is said lo spoil only a gallon
of air per minute, and therefore requires a longer time to
spoil a chamber full ; but il is done, however, in propor
tion, and raany putrid disorders hence have their origin.
It is recorded of Methuselah, who, being the longest liver,
maybe supposed to have best preserved his health, that he
slept always in the open air ; for, when he had lived 500
years, an angel said to him :— " Arise Methuselah, and
build thee an house, for thou shall hve yet 500 yeafs
longer," But Methuselah answered and said, " If 1 am
to live bul 500 years longer, il 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
lAie sick should not be indulged with fresh air, have at
length discovered, that it may do thera good. It is there
fore to be hoped, that they may in time discover likewise,
that il is not hurtful to those who are in health, and that
we may be then cured of the aerophobia, that at present
distresses weak minds, and makes them chose to be stifled
and poisoned, rather than leave open the window of a bed
chamber, or put down the glass of a coach.
Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter*,
will not receive more ; and that matter must remain in our
bodie.s, and occasion diseases: but it gives some previous
notice of its being about to be hurtful, by producing cer
tain uneasinesses, slight indeed al first, such as, with re
gard to the lungs, is a trifling sensation, and lo 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, we
have, if warraly covered, found it difficult to get asleep
again. We turn often without finding repose in any posi-^
tion. This fidgettiness, lo use a vulgar expression for want
of a better, is occasioned wholly by an uneasiness in the
skin, owing lo the relension of the perspirable raatter — the
bed-cloth-s having received their quantity, and, being sa
turated, refusing to take any more. To become sensible
of this by an experiment, let a pei-son keep his position in
the bed, but throw off the bed-clothes, and suffer fresh air
to approach the part uncovered of his body ; he will then
feel that part suddenly refreshed; for the air will immedi
ately relieve the skin, by receiving, hcking 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 ofthe skin. The quantity ofthis is said to
be five-eighths of what we eat. . '-'

204 TO PROCURE PLEASANT DREAMS.
ing off, the load of perspirable matter that incommoded it.
For every portion of cool air, that approaches the warm
skin, in receiving its part of that vapour, receives there
with a degree of heat, that rarefies and renders it hghter,
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 lo 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 dist nctly
by the comparison, and the seal 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
drearas. For when the body is uneasy, the raind 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 raore easily to pass
through them, we are less incomraoded, 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 il to
cool; in the meanwhile, continuing undressed, walk about

TO PROCURE PLEASANT DREAMS. 203
your chamber, till your skin has had time to discharge its
load, which it will do sooner as the air may be drier and
colder. When you begin to feel the cold air unpleasant,
then return lo your bed, and you will soon fall asleep, audi
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 lo be loo indolent lo get out
of bed, you may, instead of it, hft 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 limes, will so clear them of the perspirable matter
they have imbibed, as lo permit your sleeping weU 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 il refreshes, and frequently procures sleep. A
very large bed, that will admit a removal so distant from
the first situation as lo be cool and sweet, may in a degree
answer the same end.
One or two observations more will conclude this little
piece. Care must be taken when you lie do-wn, lo dispose
your pillow so as to suit your manner of placing your hpad,
and lo be perfectly easy ; then place your limbs so as not
to bear inconveniently bard upon one another, ,as, for in
stance, the joints of your ancles ; for though a bad position
may at first give bul little pain, and be hardly noticed, yet
a continuance will render it less tolerable, and the uneasi
ness may come on while you are asleep, and disturb your
imagmation. 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 raost punciual observance of
them will be totally fruitiess. 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 abovg.jii-1-thtHgs^  __^  v»..o::>.
Os. GOOD CONSCIENCE.

TO DR. JLiTHER OF BOSTON.
Effect of Early Impressions on the Mind.
Rev. Sir,
I received your kind letter, with your excelleut 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 hghtly passed over by many rea
ders, yet, if they make a deep impression on one active mind
in a hundred, the effects may be considerable.
Permit me lo mention one httle instance, which, thougli
il 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
had been so little regarded by a forraer possessor, that
several leaves of it were lorn out; but the reraainder
gave me such a turn of thinking, aslo 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 il to that
book. You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year, \
am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old together. It
is now more than sixty years since I left Boston ; but 1

tlARLY IMPRESSIONS ON THE MIND. 207
feinember 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, sloop 1" I did not under
stand hira, till I felt ray 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 lo me :
and I often think of it, when I see pride mortified, and
misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their
heads too high.
I long much to see again my native place ; and once
hoped lo 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, il being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to
have been there in 1783, bul could not obtain my dismis
sion from this employraent here ; and now I fear I shall
never have that happiness. My best wishes, however, at
tend my dear country, " esto perpetua." It is now blessed
with an excellent constilutibn : may it last for ever !
Tliis powerful monarchy continues its friendship for tho
United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance
to our security, aud 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 encon-

SOS ON EARLY MARRIAGES.
rage dangerous attempts. A breach between us afid
France would infalhbly bring the English again upon our
backs: and yet we have 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 \2,\7M.

TO JOHN ALLEYNE, ESQ.
On early Marriages.
Dear Jack, Craven Street, Aug. 9, 1768.
You desire, you say, ray 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 ara rather inchned to
think, that early ones stand the best chance of happiness.
The temper and habits of the young are not yet become so
stiff and uncomplying, as when more advanced in life ; they
form more easily to each other, and hence many occasions
of disgust are removed. And if youth has less of that
prudence, which is necessary lo manage a family, yet the
parents and elder friends of young married persons are

ON EARLY MARRIAGES. 209
generally at hand to afford their advice, which amply sup
plies that defect; and by early marriage, youth is sooner
fortned to regular and useful life ; and possibly some of
those accidents or connections, that might have injured the
constitution, or reputation, or bpthi .are thereby, happily
prevented. Particular circunlstamces of particular per
sons may possibly sometiraes raake 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 often attended, loo, -with
this further inconvenience, that there is not the same
chance that the parents shall hve lo 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 hfe ; 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 lo 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 ns, unparalleled in Europe. In fine, 1
ara glad you are raarried, 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 stale
of cetebacy for hfe — the fete of many here, who never in
tended it, but who, having too long postponed the change
of their condition, find, al length, that il 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 sel :
what think you of the odd half of a pair of scissars ? it cdii-
p

210 THE DEATH OF JOHN FRANKLIN.
not well cut any thing ; it may possibly serve to scrape a
trencher. Pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable
to your bride, I am old and heavy, or I should ere this
have presented them in person. I shall make but small
use of the old man's privilege, that of giving advice to
younger friends. Treat your wife always with respect; it
will procure respect to you, not only from her, but from all
that observe it. Never use a slighting expression to her,
even in jest ; for shghls 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.

TO MISS HUBBARD,'
On the Death of Mr. John Franklin.
Philadhl. 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,
tiial these mortal bodies he laid aside, when the soul is to
enter into real hfe. 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 bom among the immortals, a Aew 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 benevoltnt act of God. When they

STRIKING EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE. 211
become unfit for these purposes, and afford us pam 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 is
that way. ' We ourselves, in some cases, prudently choose
a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be
restored, we willingly cut off. He, who plucks out a tooth,
parts with it freely, since the pain goes with il: and he,
who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains,- and
possibilities of pains and diseases, il 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
first, 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 raay remember, my dear friend, that when we
lately spent that happy day, in .the dehghtfiil garden and
sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I stopt a littie in one of
our walks, and staid some time behind the company. We
had been shown numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly,
called an ephemera, whose successive generations, we were
told, were bred and expired within the day. I happened
to see a living company of them on a leaf, who appeared
to be engaged in conversation. You know I understand
all the inferior auimal tongues : my too great apphcatiou Is
p 2

212 STRIKING EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE.
the study of them is the best excuse 1 can give for the lit
tle progress I have made in your charming language, I
listened through curiosity lo the discourse of these little
creatures ; bul as they, in their national vivacity, spoke
three or four logef her,,I could make but httle 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 !
thought I, you hve certainly under a wise, just, and mild
government, since you have no pubhc grievances lo com
plain of, nor any subject of contention, bul the perfections
or imperfections of foreign music, I turned my head from
them lo an old grej'-headed one, who was single on another
leaf, and talking to himself. Being amused -with his soU-
loquy, I put il do-wn in writing, in hopes it will likewise
amuse her to whora I ara 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 hved and flourished long before my time,
that this vast world, the Moulin, Joly, could not itself sub
sist more than eighteen hours : and I think there was sorae
foundation for that opinion ; since, by the apparent motion
of the great luminary, that gives hfe to all nature, and
which in my time has evidently declined considerably to
wards the ocean al the end of our earth, it must then finish
its course, be extinguished in the waters that surround us,
and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessarily
producing universal death and destruction, I have lived
seven of those hours ; a great age, being no less than four
hundred and twenty minutes of time. How very few of us
continue so long^? I have seen generations born, flourish.

STRIKING EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE. 213
and expire. My present friends are the children and
grand-children of the friends of my youth, who are now,
alas, no more ! And I must soon follow thera ; for, by the
course of nature, though still in health, I cannot expect lo
live above seven or eight minutes longer. What now avails
all ray toil and labour, in amassing honey-dew on this leaf,
which I cannot hve to enjoy! What the pohtical struggles
I have been engaged in, for the good of my corapalriot
inhabitants ofthis bush, or my philosophical studies, for the
beneht of our race in general ! for in politics (what can laws
do without morals ?) our present race of ephemerse will in
a course of minutes becorae corrupt, like those of other
and older bushes, and consequently as wretched : and in
philosophy how small our progress ! Alas ! art is long, and
life is short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of
a name, they say, I shall leave behind me ; and they tell
me, I have lived long enough to nature and to glory. But
what -will fame be to an ephemera, who no longer exists ?
and what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour,
when the world itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall
come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin?" 
To rae, 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
<3yer ^able j^rilliant,
?, FRANKLIN,

214 SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL.
Sketch of an English School/ for the Consideration of
the Trustees ofthe 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 lo 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 lime 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
spelhng to be put together. Let these strive for victory ;
each propounding ten words every day to the other lo be
spelled. He that spells truly raost of the other's words is
-lictor for that day ; he that is victor most days in a month,
to obtain a prize, a pretty neat book of sorae kind, useful
in their future studies. This method fixes the attention of
children . extreraely to the orthography of words, and
makes them good spellers very early. Il is a shame for a
man lo 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 under
standing, averse lo writing even a common letter.
Let the pieces read by the scholars in this class be short ;
such as Croxal's fables, and hltie stories. In giving the
lesson, let it be read to them ; let the meaning of the dif
ficult words in il be explained to them ; and let them con
over by themselves before they are called to read lo 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 ofthe 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 raeraories ; or at
least they might write a number of them in a small book
for the purpose, which would help to fix the meaning ofi
those words in their minds, and at the same lirae 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 raorning. Let it -then be re
quired of them to give an account, first ofthe parts of speech,
and construction of one or two sentences. This will oblige
thera 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 raor-
dulations of voice, due emphasis, and suitable action, where
action is required; and put the youth on imitating his
raanner, Where the author has used an expression not the best,
let it be pointed out ; and let liis 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 welHold story, a piece of a sermon, a gene-

216 SKETCH OF AN F.NGLISH SCHOOL
ral's speech lo his soldiers, a speech in a tragedy, some
part of a comedy, an ode, a satire, a letter, blank verso,
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
time be improved.
It is required that they should first study and understand
the lessons, before they are put upon reading thera pro
perly; to which end each boy should have an English dic
tionary; to help him over difficulties. When our boys read
Enghsh to us, we are apt lo imagine they understand what
they read, because we do, and because it is their mother
tongue. But they often read, as parrots speak, knowing
little or nothing of tiie 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 have once got a habit of
using, they find so difficult lo correct ; by which means,
among fifty readers we scarcely find a good one. For
want of good reading, pieces pubhshed with a view to in
fluence the minds of men, for 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
tiirougbout a nation with the same advantages, and have
the sarae 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 eleraents of rhetoric from some short sys-

SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL. 217
t*m, so as lo be able lo give an account ofthe most useful
tro-)es 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 lo 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
that could injure the morals of youth) might hkewise be got
by role, and the boys exercised in delivering or acting
them : great care being taken to form their manner after the
truest models.
For Iht-ir farther improvement, and a little lo 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 Rollin'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, 8cc. This will make them read with attention, and
imprint the history well in their raeraories. In remarking
on the history, the master will have fine opportunities of in-
Stihing instruction of various kinds, and improving the 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, byTDlher
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 lo understand many commodities
in trade ; the haridicraflsman, to improve his business by

218 SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL.
new insfruments, 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 busmess, to
take care that the boys raake fair characters, and place them
straight and even in the lines : bul to forra their style, and
even to take care that the stops and capitals are properly
disposed, is the part of the Enghsh master. The boys
should be put on writing letters to each other on any cora-
mon occurrences, and on various subjects, imaginary busi
ness, &c. containing little stories, accounts of their late
reading, what parts of authors please them, and why ; let
ters of congratulation, of compliment, of requests, of
thanks, of recommendation, of admonition, of consolation,
of expostulation, excuse, &c. In these, they should be
taught to express themselves clearly, concisely, and natu
rally, without affected words or high-flown phrases. All
their letters to pass through the master's hand, who is to
point out the faults, advise the corrections, and commend
what he finds right. Some of the best letters published in
our own language, as Sir William Temple's, those of Pope
and his friends, and some others, might be set before the
youth as models, their beauties pointed out and explained
by the master, the letters themselves franscribed by the
scholar. Dr. Johnson's Ethices Elementa, or First Principles of
Morahty, may now be read by the scholars, and explained
by the master, lo 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
instruclion in chronology, and in that part of geography
(from the mathematical master) which is necessary lo un
derstand the raaps and globes. They should also be ac
quainted with the raodern names of the places they find
mentioned in ancient writers. The exercises of good read
ing, and proper speaking, still continued at suitable timeSr
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 lo make thera poets,
bul tor this reason, that nothing acquaints a lad so speedily
with variety ot expression, as the necessity of finding such
words and phrases as will suit the measure, sound, and
rhyme of verse, and at the same lime 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 thera. 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 oircurastauce of some good story, the scho
lar to find expression. Let thera be put sometimes on
abridging a paragraph of a diffuse author : sometimes on
dilating or amplifying what is wrote raore 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 m history, rhetoric, logic, moral and natural philo
sophy, the best Enghsh authors may be read and explained ;

320 SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL.
as Tillotson, Milton, Locke, Addison, Pope, Swift, the
higher papers in the Spectator and Guardian, the best
translations of Homer, Virgil, and Horace, of Telemachus,
Travels of Cyrus, &c.
Once a year, let tiiere 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 lo the best, and another to (he 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 obtaui 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 Ihe'English school, under the English master's care.
Thus instructed, youth will come out of this school fitted
for learning any business, calhng, or profession, except
such wherein languages are required : and, though unac
quainted with any ancient or foreign tongue, they will be
masters of their Qwn, which is of more iramediate and ge
neral use, and withal will have attained many other valu
able accomplishments : the lime usually spent in acquiring
those languages, often without success, being 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 VOUTH IN READING. 221
TO MISS STEVENSON, AT WANSTEAD
Advice to Youth in Reading.
Craven Street, May 17, 1760.
J. send my good girl the books I mentioned lo her last
night, I beg her lo accept of them, as a small raark 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 lo discourage young
beginners, 1 would advise you lo read with a pen in your
hand, and enter in. a httle book short hints of what you find,
that is curious, or that may be useful ; for this will be the
best method of imprinting such particulars in your memory,
where they will be ready, either for practice on some 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 lerms ; and in the mean time you will
read with more satisfaction, because with more under
standing. When any point occurs, in which you would be
glad to have farther information th-an your book affords you,
I beg you would not in the least apprehend, that I should
think it a trouble to receive and answer your questions. It
will be a pleasure, and no trouble. For though I may not

222 AN ALLEGORICAL DRUAM.
be able, out of my own littie stock of knowledge, to afford
you what you require, I can easily direct you tO the books,
where it may most readily be found. Adieu, and behevo
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 bis form expanded and became more than human ; his
robe hung majestically down lo his feet ; six wings, whiter
than snow, whose extremities were edged with gold, co
vered a part of his body : then I saw him quil his material
substance, which he had put on lo avoid terrifying me ; his
body was of all the colours in the rainbow. He look 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 frora 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 wfere diversified. I
now suddenly perceived so beautiful, so flourishing, so fer
tile, a country, that I conceived a strong desire lo alight
upon it. My wishes were instantiy 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 rayself to be
transported to the garden of Eden. Every thing inspired
my soul with soft tranquillity. The most profound peace

AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 233
€fevered 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 raeet
me ; and, after 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 lifted their eyes towards heaven, and as often
uttered a name which I afterwards knew to be that of the
Eternal, while their cheeks were raoistened with tears of
gratitude, I experienced great emotion while I conversed
with these subhme beings. They poured out their hearts
with the most sincere tenderness ; and the voice of reason,
most majestic, and no lees 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 ; bul being raised up in the most en
dearing manner, I was pressed lo Ihe bosoms which in
closed such excellent hearts, and I conceived a presenti
ment of celestial amity, of that amify 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 ! — not-withstanding
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 ofthe creation. The lovely Morn
ing, with her humid saffron wings, distilled the pearly dew

224 AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM.
from the shrubs and flowers, and the rays ofthe rising sun
multiphed the most enchanting colours, when I perceived
a wood embehished by the opening dawn.^ The youth of
both sexes there sent forth hymns of adoration towards
heaven ; and were filled al 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 ofthe air, the dyes of the flowers, the brilliancy of
the insects, a kind of universal sensibihty spread over all
beings, whose vivified bodies seemed entirely susceptible
of it. Everything bora the appearance of sentiment; and
the birds stopped inthe 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 intelhgent
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 call sensitive, with a quick and lively
feeling ; they bent under my fool, only to rise with more
brilhancy : the fruit gently dropped, on the first touch, frora
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-
eommon lustre; the ear was more hvely; 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 multiphed their dehghls, 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 enhvened at once the
sight and the understanding, and even penetrated the soul.
The bodies of those fortunate persons became, as il were,
transparent ; while each read in his brother's heart 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 lurainous raatter, which
resembled, at a distance, aU the colours of the rainbow j
its orb, which was never echpsed, was crowned with such
sparkling rays that the daring prism Of Newton could not
divide. When this planet set, six brilhanl 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 <he
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 Eternsil, to which it was soon to be elevated. Men
awaked from a light slumber without perturbation or un
easiness; enjoying futurity by d forcible sentiment of im
mortality, being intoxicated with the image of an apprOachr
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
tliem ; and nature removed them from the danger, as a teU'
«

S26 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; ray existence became most valuable to me;
but in proportion as the charms which surrounded me were
hvely, 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 : bul 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 deraoii
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 ; — lo-morrow
dreadful sorrow will not depress my soul ; — to-morrow the
wailings 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
tioners, but are moreover dependent on the seasons the
©lempnts, 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 tiie sweat of our

AN ALLEGORICAL DREAM. 227
brow; then greedy men come and plunder us, to squander
il on their idle favourites. Weep, weep with me, my bre
thren ! haired pursues us ; revenge sharpeUs its poniard in
the dark ; calumny brands us, and even deprives us ofthe
power of making- our defence ; the object of tenderness
betrays our confidence, and forces us 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, I sa-flr
a band of shining serarphs 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 ; or 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 I, ' 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
rephed, ' these angels of the Highest come at staled
periods, and carry us all away, opening lo us the road to a
new world, of which we have an idea by the undoubted con
viction of the unhmited 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 Ike
earth in my sight 5 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 lo carry them lo 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 beads were lost in the silver clouds, and I re-

228 LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY.
mauied 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 frora his keeper returns, following the track
of his chain, with a mild aspect, and enters his prison^
Awaking, the illusion was dispelled, which il 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 ofthe
Foundling Hospital, London.
LETTER I,
Dear Olo Friend, Passy, May23, 1785,
I sent you a few fines the other day with the medalliou,
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 shaU
probably bavarder in answering your letter,
I am not acquainted with the saying of Alphonsus, which
you allude lo as a sanctification of yOur rigidity, in refusing
to allow rae 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 il for
yourself, I must agree with you, that the gout is bad, and that
the stone is worse, I am happy in not having them batji

LETTERS TO MR, WHATLEY, 22fc
together, and I join in your prayer, tiiat 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

"W^Iiat tliey said or may say of the mortal within,
Il is SO natural to wish lo 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 lo leave behind him. Was it
not worthy of his care, that the world should say he was an
honest and a good man? 1 like better the concluding sen
timent in the old song, called the old man's wish, wherein,
after wishing for a warra 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,
Xa 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 lo the gout, and the stone,- and not being yet mas
ter of all riiy passions : hke the proud girl in my country,
who wished and resolved not to marry a parson, nor a

S30 LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY.
Presbyterian, nor an Irishman, and al length found herself
married lo an Irish Presbyterian parson ! Y ou see I have
some reason to wish that in a future state I may not only be
-as well as I was, but a httie better. Ajod I hope il : for
I too, with your poet, trust in God. And when I observe,
that there is great frugahty 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 plunts and animals without being al the trou
ble of repealed new creations; and by the natural reduc
tion of compound substances lo tk'jir original elements,
capable of being employed in new conSpositions, 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
beheve that he will suffer the daily waste of railhons of
minds ready raade tiiat now exist, and put hiraself lo 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 ofthe last may be
corrected, I return your note of children received in the foundlina-
hospital al Paris, from 1741 to 1755 inclusive, and I have
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 marsia
the gradual increase, viz. from every tenth child so thrown
Upon the pubhc, till it comes to everv third. Fifteen years

LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 231
have passed since the last account, and probably it may
DOW amount lo one half. Is it right to encourage this
monstrous deficiency of natural affection ? A surgeon I
met with here excused the women of Paris, by saying se
riously, that they could not give suck ; ' Car,' dit-il, ' ils
nont point de tetons.' He assured me it was a fact, and
bade me look at them, and obsicrve 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 hubbies, has
left off giving them any. Yet since Rousseau, with admi
rable eloquence, pleaded fbr the rights of children lo their
mother's milk, the mode has changed a little, and some la
dies of quality now suckle their infants and find mUk
enough. May the mode descend to the lower rank«, till
il becomes no longer the custom lo pack their infants
a.way, as soon as boril, lo the Enfans Trouves, with the
careless observation, that the king is better able to
maintain them. I ara credibly inforraed, 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 reraainder. Except the
few persons of quahty above-mentioned, and the multitude
who send to the hospital, the practice is lo 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, cQU&ned pour mois de Hourice / though

332 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 hke a mother (or iiot
many) and that if parents did not immediately send Iheu'
infants out of their sight, they would in a few days begin
to love them, and thence be spurred to greater industry for
their raaintenance. This is a subject you understand bet
ter than I, and therefore, having perhaps said loo rauch, I
drop it. 1 only add to the notes a reraark frora the history
ef the Academy of Sciences, rauch 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 ; raay 1 add, that all descending honours are wrong
and absurd ; that the honour of virtuous actions appertains
only to liim that performs them, and is in its nature incom
municable. It 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
tiieir conduet. They are of the people, and return again

LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 238
to mix with tiie "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 w^ages, 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 lo 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 ivligion,
king, and wife, the best of all possible wives, kings, and re
hgious, 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 commodiously the white people lived
by the help of the arts, they would not choose to remain
among us? Their answer was, that tiiey were pleased
with having had an opportunity of seeing many fine things,
hut 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
could only serve particular eyes, I doubt he has not been

* An eminent mathematical instrument-maker in London.

234 LETTERS TO MR, WHATLEY.
rightly informed of their construction. I imagine it will be
found pretty generally true, that the same convexity of
glass through which a man sees clearest and best at the
distance proper for reading, is not the best for greater
distances. I therefore had formerly two pair of 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 sufficiently
ready, 1 had the glasses cut out and h-alf of each kind as- -
socialed 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 sefe the faces
of those on the other side ofthe table who speak lo rae, and
when one's ears are not well accustomed to the sounds of a
language, a sight of the movements in the features of him
that speaks helps to explain ; so that I understand French
better by the help of my spectacles.
My intended translator of your piece, the only one I
know who understands the subject as well as the two lan
guages, which a translator ought to do, or he cannot make
so good translation, is al 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 find consumes such- numbers of your country peo
ple, your country should not, lo supply their places, want
and willingly receive the children you have to dispose of.
That ciicumstance, together with the multitude who volun-

LETTERS TO MR. WHATLEY. 235
tarily 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
Yfour's, very affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.

LETTER II. ,
Philadelphia, May 18, 1787.
I received duly my good old friend's letter of the 19th of
February, with a copy of one from Mr, Williams, lo whom
I shall communicate it when I see him, which I expect sooa
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 arc just
and solid, as far 'as I can judge of them. Our bank here
has met with great opposition, partly from envy, and partly
from those who wish an emission of more paper-money,
which they think the bank influence prevents. But it has
stood all attacks, and went on well notwithstanding the
assembly repealed its charier; 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 frora a circurastance 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 lo with
draw, it was necessary to settle their accounts ; so all were

236 LETTERS TO MR, WHATLEY. "
adjusted, the profits shared that had been accuraulated, and
the new and old proprietors jointly began on a now 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 raedahion is in good corapany ; it is placed with
those of Lord Chatham, Lord Camden, Marquis ol
Rockingham, Sir George Savil, and sorae others, who ho
noured me with a share of friendly regard when in England,
I beheve I have thanked you for il, but I thank you again,
I believe with you, that if our plenipotentiary is desirous
of concluding a treaty of commerce, he may need patience.
But if I were in his place, and not otherwise instructed, I
should be apt lo say,-Take your own time, gentlemen. If
the tieaty cannot be made as much lo 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.
' 1 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 lo 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, Bul the convenience of fixed values to
pieces is so great as to force the currency of some whose
stamp is worn off, that should have assured their fineness,
and which are evidently not of half their due weight ; this is
the case at present with the sixpences in England, which
one with another do not weigh threepence,
Yo'i are now 78, and I am 82. You tread fast upon
my heels : bul, though you have more strength and spirit,
you cannot come up with me tih I stop; which must now
be sqon ; for I am grown so old as to have buried most of
Ihe 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. S37
tinguish themtrom their sons now raen grown, and in bu
siness; so that by living Iwelye 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 off 12 of the most ac
tive years of my life, employed loo in matters of the great
est importance; but whether I have been doing good or
mischief, is for lime 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 lo Dr.
Rowley. I am under great obhgations lo hira, and shall
write to him shortly. Il will be a pleasure lo 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, ray dear friend, and believe me ever,
Your's, most affectionately,
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," in three volumes octavo

238 FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT.
and too much indulged those legs of your's in their indo-'
lence. Franklin. What is it that accuses me?
Gout. It is I, even T, the gout.
FranMin. What! ray enemy in person ?
Gout. No, not your eneray.
Franklin. I repeal 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 worid
that knows me will allow, that I afli neither the one nor the
other, •
Gout. The worid 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 meal 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 lake--Eh ! Oh !— as much exercise— Eh !
—as I can. Madam Gout. You know my sedentary stale,
and on that account, it would seem. Madam Gout, as if
you might spare me a littie, seeing it is not altogether my
own fault.
Gout. Not a jot : your rhetoric and your pohleness 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.
Bul let us examine your course of hfe. While the morn
ings are long, and you have leisure to go abroad, what do
JOU 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 afterwa»-d you .sit down

FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT. 23J>
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, lo your 'sedentary condition. But
what is your practice after dinner ? Walking in the beau
tiful gardens of those friends with whom you have dined
wouid be the choice of men of sense : your's is lo 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 iu some
Book 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-
marlre, or Sanoy, places where there are the finest gardens.
and walks, a pure air, beautiful womeny 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. Frankhn t
But amidst my instructions, I had almost forgot to admi
nister my wholesome corrections : so lake that twinge— and
that. FratikliH. Ohl 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!— Il is not fair to say I take no
exercise, when I do very often, going out to dine, and re
turning in my 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 a glow all over; ride
on horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived Jjy
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 actioa 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 ofthe
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 ofthis weight,
this repulsion a^ain succeeds ; thus accelerating the circu
lation ofthe blood. The heat produced in any given tim«
depends on the degree of this acceleration : the fluids are
shaken, the humours attenuated, the secretions facihtated,
and all goes well ; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is
established. Behold your fair friend al Auteuil : a lady
who received from bounteous nature more really useful
science, than half a dozen such pretenders lo philosophy

FRANKLIN ANt) THE GOUT. 241
as you have been able to extract from all your books.
When she honours you with a visit, it is on foot. She
walks all hours of the day, and leaves indolence and its con-
icomilant 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 lo Auteuil, must have your
carriage, though it is no farther from Passy to Auteuil, than
from Auteuil to Passy, '
Franklin. Your reasonings grow very tiresomci
Gout. I stand corrected, I will be silent, and contihue
ray office : take that, and that,
Pranktin. Oh ! Ohh ! Talk on, I pray you !
Gout. No, no ; I have a good number of twinges for
you to-night, and you mdy 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 toe ?
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 offences against your own health distinctly written,
and can justify every stroke inflicted on you.
i^»"fl«M«. Read it then.
Gout. It is too long a detail ; but I will briefly tnention
soine particulars,
Franklin. Proceed^I am all attention.
Gout. Do yOu remember how often you have promised
yourself, the following morning, a walk in the grove of
Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or in your own gar
den, and have violated your promise, alleging, at one time,
it was too cold, at another loo warm, too windy, too moist.
or what else you pleased ; when iu truth it was too nothing,
but your insuperable loye of ease ?

242 -FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT.
Franklin. That I confess may have happened occasion
ally, probably ten times in a year.
Gout. Your confession is very short of the truth ; the
gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine limes.
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 lo the lawn below. You have been in tho
practice of visiting this ainiable family ti^ice 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 fbr tea, and the chess-board; audio! you are occu
pied in your seat till nine o'clock, and that beside two
hours' play after dinner; and then, instead of walkincr
home, which would have bestirred you a little, you step into
your carriage. How absurd lo suppose, that all this care
lessness can be reconcileable with health, without my inter-
p,osition !
Franklin. I am convinced now ofthe justness of poof

y^

FPa-MlIN 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 fools in your coUducl.
Franklin. But do you charge among my crimes that I
return in a carriage from Mr. B  's ?
Gout. Certainly : for having been seated all the while,
you cannot object the fatigue of the day, and cannot want
_ therefore the relief of a carriage.
Franklin. What then would you have me do with my
carriage? Gout. Burn it, if you choose ; you would at least get
heat out of it once in this way ; or if you dislike that pro
posal, here's another for you : observe the poor peasants
who work in the vineyards and grounds about the villages
of Passy, Auteuili 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 lo 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 lo say so ! Is it not I,
who, in the character of your physician, have saved you
from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy ? one or other of which
would have done for you long ago, but for me,
Franklin. I submit, and thank you for the past, but in-
treat the discontinuance of your visits for the future : for
in my mind one had better die, than be cured so dolefully.

244 CUSTOM OF WHITE-Wi^^l^C^-
Permit me just to hint, that I have also not been uni.^^J'^'^
to you. I never feed physician, or quack of any kind, .."
enter the hst against you ; if then you do not leave me to
my repose, it may be said yoo are ungrateful too.
Gout. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any objection.
As lo quacks, I despise them : they raay 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 co disease, but a remedy ; and wherefore cure
a remedy ? — bul to our business. There.
Franklin. Oh ! Oh ! — for heaven's sake, leave me ; and
I promise faithfully never more to play al chess, but to take
exercise daily, and live temperately.
Gout. I know you too well. You promise fair ; but,
after a few months of good health, you will return.. to your
old habits ; your fine promises will be forgotten, Uke the
forms of the last year's clouds. Let us then finish the ac
count, and I will go. Bul I leave you, with an assurance
of visiting you again al a proper time and place ; for my
object is your good, and you are sensible now that I am
your real friend.

Singular custom among the Americans, entitled White
washing.
Deak Sir,
My wish is to give you some account of the people of
these new states, but I am far from being qualified for the
purpose, having as yet seen 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 V&
to look up to the English as patterns of perfection in afl
things. I have observed, however, one custom, which,
for aught I know, is peculiar to this country. An account
of it will serve to fill up the remainder of this sheet, and
may afford you some amUsement,
When a young couple are about to enter into the ma
trimonial state, a never-failing article in the marriage-treaty
is, that the lady shall have and enjoy the free and unmolested
exercise ofthe rights qf y>hite-washing, mth a\l its ceremo
nials, privileges, and appurtenances. A young woman would
forego the most advantageous connectioq, and even disap
point the warmest wish of her heart, rather than resign the
invaluable right. Y ou would wonder what this privilege of
white-washing is: I will endeavour to give you some idea
of the ceremony, as I have seen it performed.
There is no season of the year in which the lady may not
claim her privilege, if she pleases ; but the latter end of
May is most generally fixed upoii for the purpose. The
attentive husband may judge by certain prognostios 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 ar6 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 hme in it, or should see certain buckets with hme dis
solved in water, there is then no tirae 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 lo 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. He has nothing for it, but lo abdicate,
and run from an evil which he can neither prevent nor
molhfy. The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The walls
are in a few minutes stripped of their furniture ; paintings,
prints, and looking-glasses, he ic a huddled heap about the
floors; the curtains are lorn frora the testers, the beds
crararaed 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, eld
coats, and ragged breeches. Here raay be seen the lumr
bcr of the kitchen, forraing a dark and confused mass : for
the fore-ground of the picture, gridirons and frying pans,
rusty shovels and broken longs, 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
kno-wn powders, seeds, and dried herbs, handfuls of old
corks, lops of teapots, and stoppers of departed decan
ters ; — from the rag-hole in the garret to the rat-hole in the
oellar, no place escapes unrummaged. It would seem as
if the day of general doom was come, and the utensils of
the house were dragged forth to judgment. In this tem
pest, the words of .Uear naturally present themselves, and
mightj mth.some alteration, be made sfrictly 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, and the house thoroughly
efacualedy 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 lirae, called white-wash; 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-culler'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 inug 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 al 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, ^fter
long argument, il 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 be lost not only his suit of clothes, bul his suit
al law.
These smearings and scr-alohings, washings and dashings,
being duly perforraed, the next cereraonial is to cleanse
and replace the distracted furniture. You may have seen
a house raising, or a ship-launch, when all the hands within
reach are collected together : recollect, if you can, the
hurry, bustle, confusion, and, noise of such a scene, and you
will have some idea of this cleaning match. The 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 raade clean at all events ; but their
preservation is not worthy of attention. _ For instance, it
fine large engraving is laid flat on the floor ; smaller prints -
are piled upon it, and the superincumbent weight cracks
tlie glasses ef 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 a table ; others are made to lean against thatj
until the pressure of the whole forces the comer 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 lo leak through and
"spoil the engraving; no matter, if the glass is clean, and
the fi-ame 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 lo two whiter-
washings are equal to one removal, and three removals
equal to one fire.
The cleaning frolic aver, matters begin lo resume their
pristine appearance. The storm abates, and all would be
well again, but il is impossible that so great a convulsion^
in so small a community, should not produce some farther
effects. For two or~three weeks after the operation, the
family are usually afflicted with sore throats or sore eyes,
occasioned by the caustic quahty ofthe 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,
which I have called a custom, as a real periodical disease^
peculiar to the chmate. His train of reasoning is ingenious
and whimsical ; but I am not at leisure to give you a de-.
tail. The result was, that he found the distemper lo be
incurable ; bul after much study he conceived he had dis
covered a method lo 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-washiug frenzy seized the femaleg of

AMONG THE AMERICANS. 249
bis family, they might repair to this apartment, and scrub,
and smear, and scour, to their heart's content ; and so
spend the violence of the disease in this out-post, while he
enjoyed himself in quiet at head-quarters, Bul 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 lormeHl her
husband at least once a year, aud lo lurn him out of doors,
and take the reins of governraent 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 al least shortens, the period of female doraihion.
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 hke the land of Goshen amid the plagues of
Egypt, But then he must be extremely cautious, and
ever on bis 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 genlleraan 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 to find the receipt. The suit went ou in

250 CUSTOM OF WHITE- WASHING
course, and the lime approached when 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 lo be the very
receipt in question : as il 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
tradesraan had neglected to enter the credit in his book ; -
the defendant could find nothing lo 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 ef 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. 1 mean that
of washing the pavement beforo the doors every Saturday
evening. I at first took this to be a regulation of the po-
hce : but on a further inquiry find it is a religious rile,
preparatory to the Sabbath ; and is, I believe, the only re
hgious 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 sfreets on those even
ing's ; he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty
water thrown against his legs : but aPhiladelphian born is

AMONG THE AMERICANS. 251
-«o much accustomed to the danger, that he avoids it with
surprising dexterity. It is from this circumstance that a
Philadelphian 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
frora before ihe doors, that the stones stand up sharp and
prorainent, to the great inconvenience of those who are not
accustomed to so rough a path, Bul habit reconciles
every thing. It is diverting enough lo see a Philadelphian
al New York ; he walks the streets with as niuch 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 ara sure you will join rae
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,
I have lately seen a letter upon the subject of white'
washing, in which that necessary duly of a good house
wife is treated with unmerited ridicule, I should probably
fcave forgot the fooUsh thing by this time ; but the season
commg 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 aufhor dished up in every family, and his
flippant performance quoted wherever a wife attempts to
exercise her reasonable prerogative, or execute the duties
of ber 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 bul few female authors; and the men',
knowing how necessary our attentions are to their happT-
ness, lake every opportunity of discouraging literary ao-
comphshments in the fair sex. You hear it echoed from
every quarter — '^ My wife cannot make verses, it is frue ;
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, bul she can knit charming stockings," And this
they call praising a wife, and doing justice to her character,
¦with much nonsense of tiie like kind,
I say, women generally employ their time to much bet
ter purpose than scribbhng ; otherwise this fecetious writer
had not gone so long unanswered. We have ladies whe
sometimes lay down the needle, and lake up the pen ; I
wonder none of them have attempted some reply. For my
part, 1 do not pretend to be an author. I never appeared
in print in my hfe, but I can no longer forbear Saying
something in answer to such impertinence, circulate how
il may. Only, Sir, consider our situation. Men are na
turally inattentive to the decencies of life ; bul why should
I be so complaisant? I say, they are naturally filthy
creatures. If it were not that tiieir connection with the
refined sex pohshed their manners, and had a happy in
fluence on the general economy of hfe, these lords of the
creation would wallow in filth, and populous cities would
infect the atmosphere with their noxious vapours. It is

AMONG THE AMERICANS, 25^
the attention and assiduity of the women that prevent men
from degenerating into mere swhie. How important then
are the services we render ; and yet for these very services
we are made the subject of ridicule and f^n. 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 lo 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 hira.
He coraes into the parlour the other day, where, to be
sure, I was cutting up a piece uf 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 ara going lo 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 ray 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 cards, glue, paste, and gum-arabic ;
£les, knives, scissars, and needles ; rosin, wax, silk, thread,
rags, jags, tags, books, paraphlels, and papers. Lord
bless me ! I ara 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 raanoeuvres,
yet I could sufficientiy discover that he did not succeed in
any one operation. I was glad of that, I confess, and with
good reason too : for, after be 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
minute description ; suffice it to say, that he bad overset

264 CUSTOM OF WHITEWASHING
bis ink-stand, and stainted my best mahogany lable with
ink : he had spilt a quantity of vitriol, and burnt a large!
hole in my carpel : my marble hearth was all over spotted
with melted rosin; besides this, he had broken three chhia
cups, four wine glasses, two tumblers, and one of my hand-
soraesl 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 raeans by which our closets becorae furnished
with " halves of china bowls, cracked lurablers, 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, srailing al 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-
meU have no power over their own feelings ; for, notwith
standing this provocation, I said nothing, or next to no
thmg: , 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 beeause they make a great*
litter.: not a word more; howeve^, the servant cleared
away, and down sal the philosopher, A friend dropt in
soon after — " Your servant. Sir, how do you do?" "'0
Lord ! I ara almost fatigued lo death ; I have been all the-
morning making philosophical experiments," . I was now
more hardly put to it lo 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 ;
bmshes, buckets, soap, sand, limeskins, and cocoa-nut
shells, with all the powers of housewifery, were immedi
ately employed. 1 was certainly the best philosopher of
the two ; for my experiments succeeded, and his did not.
All was well again, except my poor cai-pet^my vilriolizcd

AMONG THE AMERICATtfS 855
carpet, vhich still continued a mournful memento 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 iu
the world, that he had invited six gentlemen lo dine
with him at three o'clock. It was then past one. I
complained of the short notice. " Poh ! poh !" said
he, " you can gel 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, aloin^of veal, and potatoes ! I was at a loss whe
ther I should laugh or be angry ; bul there was no time
for 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 belter than carpets. Think, Sir, v^^hat
a woman must endure under such circumstances : and then,
after all, to be reproached with cleanliness, and to have
her while-washings, her scourings, and scrubbings, raade
the subject of ridicule : it is more than patience 9an put
up with. What I have now exhibited is bul a small spcr
cimen of the injuries we sustain froni 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
adealof business on mj hands. The white- wash bucket*
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. I am called for again. Adieu.

256 ADVICE GOING TO SEA.

Advice to those who are about to itnd'ertakcia sea vo^ge.
When you intend to take a long voyage, nothing ia
belter than to keep il a secret till the raomenl of your de
parture. Without this, you wijl be continually interrupted
and tormented by visits frora friends and acquaintances^
who not only make you lose your valuable tiihe, but make
you forget a thousand things which you wish to remem
ber ; so that when you are embarked, and fairly al 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 moraenl. 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, lo lake leave of his friends,
and to receive their good wishes for his happy return?
Itis not always in one's power to choose a captain;
though great part of the pleasure and happiness of tho
passage depend upon this choice, and though one must for
a tirae be confined lo his company, and be in some mea
sure under his command. If he is a social sensible man,
obhging, 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, if your'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, wliich you may make use of occasionally. Y'ou

ADVICE GOING TO SEA. 257
ought, therefore, to provide good water, that of the ship
being often bad ; but you must put it into bottles, without
Avhichyou cannot expect to preserve it sweet. You 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 to carry any with you, unless you
resolve to undertake the office of feeding and fattening
them yourself. With the littie 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 v/ater only once in two days,
and even then in Small quantities: but as they pour this
water into troughs inchning on one side, which occasions it
to run to the lower part, it thence happens that they are
obhged to raouiit one upon the back of another in order to
reach it; and tljere 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 thCy 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, il will be ne
cessary to divide their -iroughs into small compartments, in
such a mannft", that each of them may be capable of con
taining *ater; bul this is seldom or never done. On
this account, sheep and hogs are 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 aim' st useless, by
the care which the captain has taken to iay in a proper
stock: but in such a case you may dispose of it to reheve
the poor passengers, who, paying less for their passage,
are stowed among the coramon sailors, and have no right
to the captain's provisions, except such part of them as is
used for feeding the crew. These passengers are sorae-
tiraes sick, melancholy, and dejected ; and there are often
women and children among thera, neither of whora 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.
Y'^ou may restore their health, save their lives, and in short
render thera happy; which always affords the liveliest sen
sation to a feeling raind.
The raost disagreeable thing at sea is the cookery; for
there is not, properly speaking, any professed cook on
board. The worst sailor is generally chosen for that 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 belter opinion of Pjrovidence, 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 rauch; or that, knowing they would
have bad cooks, he has given them a good appetite to pre-*
vent thera frora dying with hunger. However, if you have
no confidence in these succours of Providence, you may
yourself, with a lamp and a boiler, by the help of a httle

ADVICE GOING TO SEA. 259
spirits of wine, prepare some food, such as soup, hash, &Ci
A small oven made of tin-plate is not a bad piece of fur
niture; your servant may roast in il a piece of mutton or
pork. If yoo are ever terapted 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; bul bread double -
baked is the best; for being made of good loaf-bread cut
into sliceSj 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 lo keep al 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 rolhng of
the vessel, by means of this bullet> will convert the pease
into a kind of porridge, hke mustard.
. Having often seen soup^ when put upon the table al sea
in broad flat dishes, thrown out on every side by the rolling
of the vessel, I have wi.shed that our tin-men would make
our soup-basons with divisions or corapartments ; 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 ofthe plate, and would not
fall into the breasts of those who are al lable, and scald
them. Having entertained you with these things of httie
importance, permit me now to conclude Avilh some general
reflections upon navigation.
When navigation is employed only for transporting ne-

* It is derived from his again, and cuit baked.
s 2

260 ADVICE GOING TO SEA.
cessary provisions from one couptry, where they abound, to
anotiier where they are wanting; when by this it prevent*
famines, which were so frequent aud 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 lo transport
things of no utility, or articles of luxury, itis then uncer
tain whether the advantages resulting frora it are sufficient
to counterbalance the misfortunes il occasions by exposing
the lives of so many individuals upon the vast ocean. And
when it is used lo plunder vessels and transport slaves, il is
evidentiy only the dreadful means of increasing those cala
mities which afllict human nature.
One is astonished to think on the number of vessels and
men who are daily exposed in going lo bring tea frora
China, coffee from Arabia, and sugar and tobacco front
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 lo sacrifice the moraenlary 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 pi-ocure it for us?
A celebrated French moralist said, that, when he consi
dered the wars which we foraenl in Africa to gel negroes ;
the great number who of course perish in these wars ; the
multitude of lho.sc 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. Bul,
had Uf^ added to these considerations the wars which we
carry on against one another, to take and retake the islands

ART OF SWIMMING. 2C1
that produce this comraodily, he would not have seen the
sugar simply spotted with blood, he would have beheld il
entirely tinged with il.
These wars raake 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
pf sugar, indeed, costs the former not only the piice which
they give for it, bul also what they pay in taxes, nedfessary
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 lo learn lo swira. The river near the bottom of
your garden affords a most convenient place for the pur
pose. And as your new eraployment requires your being
often on the water, of which you have such a d-i'ead, I think
you would do well lo make the trial ; nothing being so
likely to remove those apprehensions as the consciousness
of an ability to-swim to the shore, in case or an accident,
or of supporting yourself in the water till a boat could
come lo lake you up.
I do not know how far corks or bladders raay be useful
in learning lo swira, 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 feel
that is necessary to produce progressive motion. Bul
you will be no swunmer 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 I 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 I mean is this. Choosing k place where
the water deepens gradually, walk coolly into it till it is up
to your breast, then turn round, your face lo 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 \Vater is clear. It must lie in water so deep as
that you cannot reach it lo lake it up but by diving for it.
To encourage . yourself in order lo do this, reflect that
your progress will be from deeper to shallower water and
thiit 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 gel 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 gel down lo the egg. Thus
you feel the power of the water lo 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 swimraing lo support your head hio-her
above water, or to go forward through it.
I would the more earnestly press you to the frial of this
method, because, though 1 think I satisfied you that your
body is lighter than water, and that you might float in it a
long time with your mouth free for breathing, if you would
put yourself in a proper posture, and would be still and
forbear strugghng ; yet, till you have obtained this expe-.

ART OF SWIMMING. 263
rimental confidence in the water, I cannot depend on your
having 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 s.eem on such occasions lo be of Jittle
use lo us ; and the brutes, lo whom we allow scarce a ghm-
mering of either, appear to have the advantage of us.
I will, however, take this opportunity of repeating those
particulars to you, which I menthDued in our last conver
sation, as, by perusing them at your leisure, you mhy 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 loo hght lo sink
wholly under water, but some part will remain above, until
the lungs becorae 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. Tha,t 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, bul 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, raay 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 lo it.
4. That in fresh water, if a man throws himself on his
Jiack, near the surface, he cannot long 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 giaoually 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. Bul if, in this erect position, the head is kept upright
above the shoulders, as when we stand on the ground, the
immersion will, by the weight of that part of the head that
is out of water, reach above the mouth and nostrils, 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, bul 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 would not advise you or any
one to depend on having this presence of mind on such an
occasion, bul learn fairly to swim ; as I wish all men were
taught lo 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 frora painful apprehensions of danger,
to say nothing of the enjoyment in so delightful and whole

ART OF SWIMMING. 265
some ap exercise. _ Soldiers particularly should, taetmoks,
all be taught to swim ; it inight 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 far
acquiring so advantageous an art, which once learned is
never forgotten. I am. Sir, 8cc.
B. FRANKLIN.

<?M th^ 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 myself with a few remarks.
The specific gravity of sorae 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, bul they fatigued
my wrists. I also fitted to the soles of my feet a kind of
sandals J but I was not satisfied with them, because I ob-

266 ART OF SWIMMING.
served that the stroke is partiy given by the inside of tho
feet and the ancles, and not entirely with the soles of the
feel. We have here waistcoats for swimming, which are made
of double sail-cloth, with small pieces of cork quilted in be
tween them.
I 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, and 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 il away is lo give lo the parts affected a
sudden, vigorous, and violent shock; which he may do in
the air as he swims on his back.
During tte great heats of summer there is no djinger in
bathing, however warm we may be, in rivers which have
been thoroughly warraed by the sun. But to throw one's
self into cold spring water, when the body has been healed
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 heal 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. Afler^ having swam for an
hour or two in the evening, one sleeps coolly the whole
night, even during the most ardent heat of suraraer. Per
haps, the pores being cleansed, the insensible perspiration
increases and occasions this coolness. It is certain that
i^uch swimming is the means of stopping a diarrhoea, and
even of producing a constipation. With respect to those

ART OF SWIMMING, 26?
\Fho do not know how lo swim, or who are affected with a
diarrhoea at a season which does not permit them to use
that exercise, a warm bath, by cleansing and purifying the
skin, is found. very salutary, and often effects a radical cure,
I speak from my own experience, frequently repealed, 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 lo 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 I was a boy, I amused myself one day with flying
a paper kite ; and, approaching the bank of a pond, which
was near a mile broad, I tied the siring lo a stake, and the
kite ascended to a very considerable height above the
pond, while 1 was swimming. In a httle lime, being de
sirous of amu.sing myself with my kite, and enjoying at the
same time the pleasure of swimming, I returned ; and,
loosing from the stake the string with the little slick which
was fastened lo 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 lo
carry, my clothes round the pond, lo a place which I
pointed out lo 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.
I was only obhged occasionally to hall a little in my course,
and resist its progress, when it appeared that, by following
too quick, I lowered the kite too much: by doing which
pccasionally I made it rise again. I have never since that

268 FREE USE OF AIR.
time practised tliis singular mode of swimming, though I
think il 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 2^, I760i
* * * I greatiy approve the epithet which you give, in
your letter ofthe 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 il to mention a practice to
which I have accustomed myself. You know the cold bath
has long been in vogue here as a tonic ; bul the shock of
the cold water has always appeared to me, generally speak
ing, as loo 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 ray 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 retum 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 il 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.
Rev. Sir, London, July 13, 17G2.
1 once promised myself the pleasure of seeing you at
Turin,' but as that is not now hkely to happen, being just
about returning lo my native country, America, 1 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 raade of me in your letters to Mr. Colhnson and
others ; for the generous defence you undertook, and exe
cuted with so rauch success, of my electrical opinions; and
for the valuable present you have made rae of your new
work, from which I liave. received great inforraation and
pleasure. 1 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 I know of any one here that isal pre- '
sent much engaged in it.
Perhaps, however, it may be agreeable to you, as you
live in a musical countiy, to have an account of the new in-
slruihenl lately added here lo 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 thai ofthe 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 inchne so to do, without being
at the expense and trouble of the many experiments I
have made in endeavouring to bring il to its present per
fection. You have doubtless heard the sweet tone that is drawn'
from a drinking glass, by passing a wet finger round i!s

270 MUSICAL GLASSES,
brim. One' Mr. Puckeridge, a gentleman from Ireland,
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 ou a table, and
tuned thera by putting into thera 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 hved in. Mr. E. Delaval, 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,
I 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 forra of
hemispheres, haviiig each an open neck or socket in the
middle. The thickness of the glass near the brim about a
lentil of an inch, or hardly 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
dunensions 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 tiiere should be al least six glasses blown of
each size: and out ofthis number one may probably pick
tiiirty-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 lo taper pretty regularly from the
argesl lo the smallest. It is true there are not thirty-
seven sizes, bul il often happens that two of the same size
differ a note or half note in lone, 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 il for, they are lo be turned
by diminishing the thickness of those that are loo sharp.
This is done by grinding thera round frora the neck to
wards the brim, the breadth of one or two inches, as raay
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 lo great ex
actness. The more care is necessary in this, because if
you go below your required lone, there is no sharpening it
again but by grinding somewhat off the brim, which will af
terwards require polishing, and tiius increase the trouble.
The glasses being thus tuned, you are to be provided
with a case for thera, and a spindle on which they are to be
fixed. My case is about three feel long, eleven inches
every way -wide within al 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 sel 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 lo 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 $i
the thickest end, and tapering- to a quarter of ;.n inch at
the smallest. A square shank comes from its thickest end
through the box, on which shank a wheel is fixed by a
screw. This wheel serves as a fly to make the motion
equable, v/hen 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 lo conceal
near its circumference about 251b. of'lead. An ivory pin
is fixed iu the face of this wheel, and about four inches
from the axis. Over the neck ofthis pin is put the loop of
the siring 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 lo 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 raake 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, il may be gradually brought to its place. But
care must be taken that the hole be not loo small, lest in
forcing it up the neck should spht : 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 tiiis glass is towards the wheel, and^
the next goes into il 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

MUSICAL GLASSES. 273
glass that the lone is drawn, by laying a finger upon one of
them as the spindle and glasses lurn round.
My largest glass is G, a little below the reach of a com-
rnon voice, and my highest G, including thrfce coraplele
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,
Und C red again ; so that glasses of the same colour (the
white excepted) are always octaves lo each other.
This instrument is played upon, by sitting before the
middle ofthe set of glasses as before the keys of a harpsi
chord, turning them with the foot, and wetting thera now
and then with a spungc and clean water. The" fingers
should be first a little soaked in water, and quite free from
all greasiness ; a little fine chalk upon thera 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, ti:al 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 strongpr or
weaker pressures of the finger, and continued lo any
length; and that the instrument, being once well tuned,
never again wants tuning.
In honour of your musical language, I have borrowed
frora il the name ofthis instrument, calling it the Armonica.
With great esteem and respect, I am, &c.
B. FRANKLIN.

274 MEDIUMS OF CONVEYING -SOUND.
TO MR. OLIVER NEALE.
On the besf Mediums for conveying Sound.
Dear Sir, Juli^ 20, 1762.
I have perused your paper on sound, and would freely
mention lo you, as you desire it, every thing that appeared
to rae to need correction : but nothing of that kind occurs
to rae, unless it be, where you speak of the air as " tha
best raediura.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 piece of timber, raay be
heard by an ear applied near the other end, though it
could jiot be heard at the sarae distance through the air.
And two stones being struck smartly together under
water, the stroke raay 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,
as if at a distance, like distant sounds through air, but
smart and strong, and as if present just al the ear. I wish
you would repeat these experiments now you are upon
the subject, and add your own observations. And if you
were lo 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 lo
you, in considering,
1, Whether the experiment is not ambiguous; i. e.
whether the gradual exhausting of the air, as it creates an
increasing difference of pressure on the outside, raay not
occasion in the glass a difficulty of vibrating, that renders
it less fit to comraunicate to the air without, the vibrations

MEDIUMS OF CONVEYING SOUND, 275
that strike it from within ; and the diminution of the sound
arise from this cause, rather than frora the diminution ofthe
iir? 2, Whether as the particles of air themselves are at a
distance frora each other, there rausl not be some medium
between them, proper for conveying sound, since otherwise
il -would stop at the first particle ?
3, Whether the great difference we experience in hear
ing sounds al a distance, when the wind blows towards us
from the sonorous body, or towards that from us, can be
well accounted for by adding lo 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, tiie 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
thirty miles high al least, sometimes burst at thatiheight:
the air must he exceeding rare there, and yet the explosion
produces a sound that is heard al that distance, and for
seventy miles round on the surface of the earth, so violent
too as lo shake buildings, and give an apprehension of an
T 2

2W MELODY OF THE
earthquake. Does not this look as if a rare atmospheri,
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 that
every subject is the better for your handling it.
With the greatest esteem, I am, &c.
B. FRANKLIN.

TO LORD KAIMS, AT EDINBURGH,
On the Harmony and 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 coraposed in
the modern taste, is not the natural pleasure arising from
melody or harmony of sounds, but of the same kmd 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 case, 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 soraelimes, at a con
cert, attended by a common audience, placed rayself so as
to see all their faces, and observed no signs of pleasure in
thera 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 littie the

OLD SCOTCH TUNES, 277
sense of your position, that " melody and harmony are se
parately agreeable, and in union delightful," and to give it
as my opinion, that the reason why the Scotch tunes have
.lived so long, and will probably hve fbr ever (if they escape
being stifled in modern affected ornament) is merely this,
that they are really compositions of melody and harmony
united, or rather that their melody is harmony. I mean
the simple tunes sung by a single voice. As this will 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. Bul since the meraory 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 frora thence a
sense of harraony 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 thera in sing
ing the tune, from the lighter connecting notes, that serve
merely, like grammar articles in common speech, lo lack
the whole together.
That we have a most perfect idea of a sound just past, I
might appeal lo all acqaainted with music, who know how
easy il is to repeat a sound in the same pitch with one just
beard. 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; their 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 together, though you know by the boating that
one is higher than the other, you cannot tell which it is, 1
have ascribed to memory the ability of comparing the
-pitch of a present lone with that of one past, Bul if there
should be, as possibly there may be, something in the ear,
similar lo what we find in the eye, that ability, would not
be entirely owing to meraory. Possibly the vibrations
given to the auditory nerves by a particular sound may
actually continue sorae time after the cause of those vibra
tions is past, and the agreement or disagreement of a sub
sequent sound becorae by comparison with them more
discernible. For the impression raade on the visualnerves
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 windoAV will still remain
, in the eye, and so distinct that you may count the panes,
A remarkable circumstance attending this experiment, is,
?hat the impression of forms is better retained than that of
colours ; for after the eyes are shut, when you first discern
the image of the window, the panes appear dark, and the
cross bars of the sashes, with the window frames and
walls, appear white or bright ; but if you still add to the
darkness in the eyes by covering them with your hand, the
reverse instantly takes place, the panes appear luminous
and the cross bars dark. And by removing the hand they
are again reversed. This I know not how to account for.
Nor for the following: that after looking long through
green spectacles, the white paper of a book will on first
taking them off appear lo have a blush of red ; and after
long looking through red glasses, a greenish cast ; this
seems lo 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 harmonical successions of

OLD SCOTCH TUNERS. 279
sounds, 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 iu the modern
harpsichord, by which the sound of the preceding could be
stopt, the moment a succeeding note began. To avoid
actual discord, it was 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 .siraple kind, I mean a harp without any half notes but
those in the natural scale, aud with no more than two oc
taves of strings, from C to C, I conjecture from another
circurastance, which is, that not one of those luneS, really
ancienti has a single artificial half note in it, and that in
tunes where it was- most convenient for the voice lo use
the middle notes of the harp, and place the key in F, there
the B, which if used should be a B flat, is always omitted,
by passing over il 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 lo one of those tunes, and
accompanied by the harp, fell raore real pleasure than is
communicated by the generality of raodern operas, exclu
sive of that arising frora the scenery and dancing. Most
tunes of late composition, not having this natural harraony
united with their melody, have recourse lo the' artificial
harraony of a bass, and other acconipanying parts. This
support, in my opinion, the old tunes do not need, and are
rather confused than aided by il. 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 seen

280 ELECTRICITY.
tears of pleasure in the eyes of his auditors ; and yet, I
think, even his playing those tunes would please more, if
he gave them less modern ornament.
I am, &c.
B. FRANKLIN.

Of Lightning, and the best Method of guarding against
its mischievous Effects
Experiments made in electricity first gave philosophers
a suspicion, that the matter of lightning was the same with
the electric matter. Experiments aftewards made ou
lightning, obtained from the clouds by pointed rods, re
ceived into bottles, and subjected lo 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 raatter 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 ia
another, the body which has most will coraraunicale lo that
which has' least, till the proportion becomes equal; pro
vided the distance between thera be not loo great; or, if it
is too great, till there be proper conductors to convey it
from one lo the other.
If the. communication be through the air without any
conductor, a bright hght 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 ; bul in tiie
great operations of nature, the light is what we call light
ning, and the sound (produced at the same lime, though

ELECTRICITY, 281
generally arriving later at our ears than the lip-fit does to
our eyes) is, with ils echoes, called thunder
If the coraraunication of this fluid is by a conductor, it
may be without either hght 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
-prater in them, as wood, and other materials used in build
ing, but not having much water in thera, 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 ofthis 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, il 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
smother 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 theraselves, 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,
BO stroke will be made.
The clouds have often more of this fluid in proportion
than the earth ; in which case, as soon as they come near
enough (that is, within the striking distance) or meet with
a conductor, the fluid quits them and strikes into th»
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 il meets
with other clouds that have less.
Tall trees, and lofty buildings, as the towers and spires
of churches, become sometimes conductors between the
clouds and the earth ; but not being good ones, th-al 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, il passes
iu the metals and not in the walls.
When other buildings happen lo be within the striking
distance frora 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 il 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 frora each other.
An iron rod being placed on the outside of a building,
frora the highest part continued down into the moist earth,
in any direction straight or crooked, following the form of
the roof or other parts of the building, will receive the
hghtning at its upper end, attracting it so as to prevent its
itriking any other part ; and, affording it a good convey
ance into the earth, will prevent its damaging any part ot
the building,
A small quantity of metal is found able to conduct a

ELECTRICITY. 283
great quantity of this fluid. A wire no bigger than a goose-
quill has been known lo 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 rpds are not necessary, though it is
common in America to raake 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 hghtning will not leave the rod (a good
conductor) lo pass into the wall (a bad conductor) through
those staples. It would rather, if any were in the wall, pass
out of il into the rod lo gel more readily by that conductor
into the earth.
If the building be very large and extensive, two or more
.rods may be placed at different parts, for greater security.
Small ragged parts of clouds, suspended in the air be
tween the great body of clouds and the earth (hke 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 coraes within the striking distance
lo 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 comraunicating 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 lo be beyond the reach of striking,
Il is therefore that we elevate the upper end of the rod
six or eight feet above the highest part ofthe building, ta
pering it gradually lo 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 ofthe 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 lo go in a hori
zontal line six or eight feel from the wall, and then bent
again downwards three or four feet, il will prevent damage
to any of the stones of the foundation,
A person apprehensive of danger from lightning, hap
pening during the tirae of thunder to be in a house not so
secured, will do well Jo avoid sitting near the chimney, near
a looking glass, or any gilt pictures or wainscot ; the safest
place is in the middle ofthe room (so il be not Under a metal
.lustre suspended by a chain) silting in one chair and laying
the feel up in another. It is still safer to bring two or
three mattrasses or beds into the middle ofthe room, and,
folding them up double, place the chair upon them i 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, whe^ it can go through a con
tinued better conductor, the wall. But where it can be
had, a hamraock or swinging bed, suspended by silk cords
equally distant from the walls on every side, and from the
ceiling and floor above and below, afforJs 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.— Effect of the Sun*i
Ray's on Cloths of different Colours.
My Dear Friend, Sept. 20, 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 kmd of audacity to call such
general opinions in question, and may subject one to cen
sure. But we must hazard sonvsthing 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-
Doko and the Mississippi. The proof is, that their waters
are fresh quite to the sea, and out to some distance fi-om
the land. Our question is, whether the fresh waters of
those rivers whose beds are filled with salt water lo 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 al 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 frora 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 raay
often see where a river runs, by a long bluish mist over il,
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 lo 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
drawn into greater length as a river, so as to expose a sur-

286 TENDENCY OF RIVERS TO THE SEA.
face equal in the whole lo that lake, the evaporation would
be equal, and such river would end as a canal ; when the
ignorant might suppose,^s they actually do in such cases,
that the river loses itself by running under ground, whereas
in truth il has ran up into the air.
Now, raany rivers that are open to the sea widen rauch
before they arrive al it, not merely by the additional waters
they receive, but by having their course slopped 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 evaporalion.ol
the fresh water is proportionably increased ; so that in
some rivers it may equal the springs of supply. In such
cases, the salt water comes up the river, and meets the fresh
in that part where, if there were a wall or bank of eartii
across from side lo side, the river would form a lake, fuller
indeed al some times than at others, according- to the sea-
sons, bul whose evaporation would, one time with another,
be equal to its supply.
When the communication between the two kinds of
water is open, this supposed wall of separation may be
conceived as a moveable one, which is not only pushed
some miles higher up the river by every flood tide from the
sea, and carried down again as far by every tide of ebb,
but which has even this space of vibration removed nearer
to the sea in wet seasons, when the springs and brooks in
the upper country are augmented by the falhng rains, so
as to swell the river, and farther frora the sea in dry
seasons. Within a few railes above and below this raoveable
line of separation, the different waters raix a littie, partly
by their raotion to and fro, and partly froni the greater
specific gravity of the salt water, which inchnes it to run
under the fresh, while the fresh water, being lighter, runs
over the salt.

EFFECTS OF THE SUN'S RAYS. 287
Cast your eye on the map of North America, and ob
serve the bay of Chesapeak in Virginia, mentioned above;
you will see, communicating with il by their mouths, the
great rivers Sasquehanah, Potowmack, Rappahanock,
York, 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 al 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 il with fresh ?— »
The Sasquehanah alone would seem to be sufficient fortius,
if it were not *br 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 from 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 frora raemory.
But first let rae raenlion 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 livill 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 lo 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 wet, 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 Beat
of. which sooner penetrates black stockings than - white
ones, and so is apt sooner lo 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 look a number of little
square pieces of broad cloth from a taylor's patlem-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 lime) 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 alraosl as low, the lighter blue
not quite so inuch as the dark, the other colours less as they
were hghter; and the quite white reraained on the surface
lof the snow, not having entered il at all.
What signifies philosophy that does not apply lo some
use ? — May we not learn from hence, that black clothes
are not so fit lo wear in a hot sunny climate or season, as
white ones; because iu such clothes the body is more
heated by the sun when we walk abroad, and are at the
same time healed by the exercise, which double heal 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 ? That
summer hats, for men or women, should be while, as re
pelling that heat which gives head-aches lo many, and to
some the fatal stroke that the French call the coup de
soleil ? That the ladies' summer hats, however, should be
lined with black, as not reverberating on their faces those
rays which are reflected upwards frora the earth or water-?
That the putting a white cap of paper or hnen within the
crown of a black hat, as some do, will not keep out the
heal, though it would if placed without. That fruit-walls

ELECTRICITY. 289
being blacked may receive sO much heat froni tiie 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 ils growth ? — with sundry other particulars of less or
greater iraportance, that will occur from time lo time lo
attentive minds ?— I am,
Your's affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.

l-O PETER COLLINSON, ESQ. F. R. S. LONDON,
Electrical Kite.
Sir, Philadelphia, Oct. 19, 1752.
As frequent mention is made in pubhc papers fi-om
Europe of the success ofthe Philadelphia experiraenl for
drawing the electric fire from clouds by means'of pointed
rods of iron erected on high buildings, &c. il may be agree
able lo the curious to be informed that the same experiment
has succeeded. in Philadelphia, though raade in a difl'erenl
and raore easy manner, which is as follows :
Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms
so long as to reach to tlie 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 made
of paper; but this being of silk is filter lo bear the wet
and wind of a thunder gust without tearing. To the top
of the Upright stick of the cross is to be fixed a very sharp
pointed wire, rising a foot or more above the wood. To
the end of the twine, next the hand, is to be tied a silk
ribbon, and where the silk and twine join, a key may lie
V

290= ELECTRICITY.
fastened. This kite is to be raised when a thunder-gust
appears to be coming on, and the person who holds the
siring must stand within a door or window, or under some
cover, so that the silk ribbon may not be wet ; and care
must be taken that the twine does not touch the frame of
the door or window. As soon as any of the thunder
.clouds come over the kite, the pointed wire will draw the
electric fire from thera, and the kite, with all the twine,
will be electrified, and the loose filaments of the l-wine will
stand out every way, and be attracted by an approaching
finger. And when the rain has welted the kite and twine,
so that il ean conduct tlie 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 j and
frora 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 hghtning, imagining its lu
minous appearance to be owing to electric fire, produced by
?riction between the particles of water and those of salt.
Living far from the sea, I had then no opportumty 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. 291
though al first it would by agitation appear luminous, yet
in a few hours it lost that virtue: Ae«ce, and from this, that
I could not by agitating a solution of sea-salt in water pro
duce any light, I first began to doubt of my former hypo-
thesisj and to suspect that the luminous appearance in sea-
water rausl be owing- to some other principles.
I then considered whether ilwere not possible, that the
particles of air, being electrics per se, might, in hard gales
of wind, by their friction against trees, hills, buildings,'&c.
as so many minute electric globes, rubbing against non
electric cushions, draw the electric fire from the earth, and
that the rising vapours might receive that fire from the air,
and by such means Ihie clouds become electrified.
If this were so, I imagined that by forcing a constant
violent stream of air agaiust my prime conductor, by bel
lows, I should electrify it wcg-a/ft-e^ / the rubbing particles
of air, drawing from il 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 lo give notice when the rod
should be electrified : a coutrivance obvious to every elec
trician. I found the bells rang sometimes when there was no
hghtning or thunder, but only a dark cloud over the rod ;
that sometimes after a flash of hghtning lh*y would sud
denly slop ; and al other times, when they had not rang
before, they would, after a flash, suddenly begin to ring;
that the electricity was somelunes very faint, so that, when
a small spark was obtained, another could not be got for
some time after; at other times the sparks would follow
extremely quick, and once I had a continual stream frora
beU to bell, the size of a crow-quill : even during the sam^e
gust there were considerable variations,
V 3

2d2 ELECTRICITY.
In the winter following I conceived an experiment, t*
try whether the clouds were electrified positively or nega
tively ; but my pointed rod, with its apparatus, becoming
out o^ order, I did not refit it tih towards the spring, when
I expected the warm weather would bring on more frequent
thunder-clouds. The experiment was this: — To lake two pliials; charge
one of thera with lightning from the iron rod, and give the
other an equal charge by the electric glass globe, through
the prime conductor: -when charged, to place them on a
table within three or four inches of each other, a small cork
ball being suspended by a fine silk thread from the ceiling,
so as it might play between the wires. If both botties
then were electrified ^osi<2t)e/y, 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 Jong as any consi
derable charge remained.
Being very intent on making tiiis experiment, il was no
small mortification to me, that I happened to be abroad
during two of the greatest thunder-storras we had early in
the spring ; and though I had given orders in ray 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 il was mostly dissipated before my return ;
and in some ofthe other gusts, the quantity of lightning I
was able lo 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 1 2th of April, 1753, there being a smart
gust of some continuance, I charged one phial pretty well
with hghtning, and the other equally, as near as I could
judge, with electricity frora 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 negativdy.
I repealed 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 their natural quantity of the electric fluid.
Yet, notwithstanding so many experiments, il seems I
concluded loo soon; for at last, June the 6lli, in a gust
which continued from five o'clock, P. M. lo 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 stale. This was thus discovered :
I had another concurring experiment, which I often re
peated, to prove the negative state ofthe clouds, viz, while
the bells were ringiiig, I took the phial charged from the -
glass globe, and applied its wire lo the erected rod, consi
dering, that if the clouds were electrised positively, the rod
which received its electricity from thera 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 slate, they must exhaust the electric fluid
from my rod, and bring that into the same negative stale
with themselves, and then the wire of a positively charged
phial, supplying the rod with what it wanted (which it was
obliged otherwise lo draw from the earth by means of the
pendulous brass ball playing between the two bells) the
ringing would cease till the bottle was discharged.
In this manner I quite discharged into the rod several
phials that were charged from the glass globe, the electric
fluid streaming from the wire lo the rod, till the wire would
receive no spark from the finger ; and, during tills supply
to the rod from the phial, the bells stopped ringiiig ; 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 il, charged them negatively.
At length, while I was charging a phial by my glass
globe, to repeat this experiment, my bells, of theraselves.
Stopped ringing, and, after some pause, began to ring
again. But now, when I approached the wire of the
charged phi^l to the rod, instead of the usual stream'that I
expected from tiie wire lo the rod, there was no spark ; no
6 veil when I brought the wire and the rod to touch ; yet the
bells continued ringing vigorously, which proved lo 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
stale. This was near the end ofthe gust.
But this was a single experiment, which, however, de
stroys my first too general conclusion, and reduces me lo
this : That the clouds of a thunder-gust are most commonly
in a negative state of electricity, but sometimes in a posi
tive state.
The latter, I believe, is rare ; for though I soon after the
last experiment set out on a journey lo Boston, and was
frora 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 stale.
So that, for the most part, in thunder-strokes, it is the
ta/rth 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. ?Q5
walls, &c. which the electric fluid meets with in its pas
sage, and the same fatal shock lo animal bodies ; and that
pointed rods fixed on buildings, or masts of ships, and com
municating with the earth or sea, must be ot the same ser
vice in restoring the equilibrium silently between the earth
and clouds. Or in conducting a flash or stroke, if one should
be, so as to save harmless the house or vessel : for points
have equal power to throw off, as to draw on, the electric
fire, and rods will conduct up as well as down.
But 'though the light gained from these experiments
makes no alteration in the practice, it makes a considerable
one in the theory. And now we as rauch need an hy
pothesis to explain by what means the clouds become
negatively, as before to shew how they became positively,
electrified. T cannot forbear venturing some few conjectures on this
occasion : they are what occur lo 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
icxact 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 ail kinds
of common matter under the same dimension^, nor in the
same kind of coramon matter in all circurastances ; but a
solid foot, for instance, of one kind of common matter, may
contain raore 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, wtien 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 repulsion) are brought so near lo 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 ah"
sorbed what I call their natural quantity, i. e. just as much
of the electric fluid as is suited lo their circumstances of
density, rarity, and power of attracting, do not then show
any signs of electricity among each other,
I Aod if more electric fluid be added lo one of these bo
dies, it does not enter, bul spreads on the surface, forming
an atmosphere ; and then such body shews signs of elec-
fricily, I have in a former paper compared common matter to a
sponge, and the electric fluid to water ; I beg leave once
more to raake use of the same coraparison, to illustrate far
ther my meaning in this particular.
When a sponge is somewhat condensed by being
squeezed between the fingers, il 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 ofthe 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 state will na
turally attract and absorb less water; we may call the
quantity il 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.
It can hold . no more electric fluid than it has : if any he
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 ; tiiere is room for each par- '
tide to have an electric atmosphere.
Thus water, in its rarefied state, or in the form of a
cloud, -will be in a negative stale of electricity ; it will have
less than ils natural quantity ; that is, less than il is natu
rally capable of attracting and absorbing in that stale.
Such a cloud, then, coming so near the earth as to be
within the striking distance, wiJl 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 lo others, till an equili
brium is produced among all the clouds that are withm
striking distance of each other.
The cloud thus supplied, having parted with much of
what it first received, may reouire and fcccive 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.
Hence repealed 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

S98 ELECTRICITY.
our experiments ; yet as by one experiment wc found a
cloud electrised positively, I conjecture that, in that case,
such cloud, after having received what was, in ils rare
state, only its natural quantity, became compressed by the
driving winds, or sorae 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 tiie
can I put about three yards of brass chain ; lo one end of
which I fastened a silk thread, which went right up to the
ceiling, where il passed over a pulley, and came down
again lo 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 il gradually sink into the can again. — From
the ceiling, by another tiiread 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 il 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 near" the can, it would receive another spark,
and the cotton fly off again to its first distance ; and thus,
as the chain was drawn higher, the can would receive
more sparks \ because the can and extended chain were

ELECTRICITY. 299
papable of supporting a gretiter atmosphere than the caO
with the chain gathered up into its belly.— -And that the
atmosphere round the can was dirainished by raising the
chain, and increased again by lowering it, is not only
agreeable to reaspn, since the atmosphere of the chain
must be drawn frora that ofthe 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 il was let down
again. Thus we see that increase of surface raakes a body ca
pable of receiving a greater electric alraosphere : but this
experiment does not, I own, fully demonstrate my new
hypothesis ; for the brass and silver still continue in their
solid stale, and are not rarefied into vapour, as the water is
in clouds. Perhaps sorae future experiraents 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 ils dense slate as water, why does il 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 ^ive a
solution satisfactory to myself: I thought, however, that I
ought to state it in ils 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 lo positive and negative
electricity, with snch 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-

JJOO ELECTRICITY
flity 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 ofthe stream, and not an effect of the dj
rection. In every stroke of lightning, I am of opinion that th©;
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, &c. 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 amopg the conductors ; which explo
sion happens only when the conductors cannot discharge it
as fast as they receive il, by reasMi of their being iucom-

ELECTRICITY. 801
plete, disunited, too small, or not of the best materials for
conducting. MetaUine 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- '
doctors, will, I think, secure the building from damage,
either by restoring the equilibrium so fast as to prevent a
stroke, or by conducting it in the substance of the rod as
far as the rod goes, so that there shall be no explosion but
what is above its point, between that and the clouds.
If it be asked, what thickness of metalline rod may be
supposed sufficient? 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
the gold the farthest way about, rather than lake 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, inore 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 il is sufficient lo 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
cbntain about five thousand times as much metal as there
rs in that gold line, and if so, il wiLLconducl 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. Bul a rod of half an inch
diameter would conduct four times as much as one of a
quarter. And with regard lo conducting, though a certain thick
ness of metal be required to conduct a great quantity of
electricity, and, al the same lime, keep its own substance
iitmand unseparated; and a less quantity, as a very small

302 ELECTRlCiTlr.
wire for instance, will be destroyed by the explosion ; ye<
such s'mall 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 moyes without exploding, when it has a
free passage, or complete metal coraraunication, I should
think a vast quantity would be conducted in a short time,
either lo or from a cloud, lo 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 hghtning discharged in one stroke, cannot well
be measured, and, in different strokes, is certainly very
various, in sorae much greater than others ; and as iron
(the best metal for the purpose, being least apt lo fuse) is '
cheap, il 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 lime, with careful observations well
compared, will at length point out the proper size lo greater
certainly. Pointed rods erected on edifices raay likewise often pre
vent a stroke, in the following raanner : — 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
sometiraes 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 raay be spun out of the sarae lock by the
fingers) another to that, and the third lo the second, by
hke 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 atfracted by il: but on

CURIOUS EFFECT OF OIL ON WATER. 303
presenting a sharp point erect upder the lowest, il will
shrink up to the second, the second to the first, and all to
gether to the prime conductor, where they will continue as
long as the point continues under them. May not, in hke
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 fHend, 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 end 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. FRANKLIN.

TO DR, PRINGLE, IN LONDON,
Melating^ a curious Instance of the Efftct of Oil on
Water,
SiE, Philadelphia, Dec.l, 1762.
During our 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

m STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL.
oil to burn ; and with a common glass tumbler or beakef^
slung in wire, and suspended to the ceiling of the cabin^
and a httle wire hoop for the wick, furnished with corks to
float on the oil, I made an Itahan lamp, that gave us very
good light all over the table. The glass at bottom con
tained water lo about one^third of its height; anotiier 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
duly preserved its position and distance with reg-ard lo the
brinfof 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 hght all night, till the oil was spent, and
the water only remained. In the morning I observed, that
though the raotion 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
tions, rising in high waves almost lo the surface ofthe 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 ofthe same, frora each side, meet
ing above it in a knot al about a fool distance from the top
of the tumbler. , Then putting in as much water as would
fill about one-third part of the tumbler, I hl'ted it up by the
knot, and swung it to and fro in 'the air; when the water
appeared lo 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 tranquilhty before possessed by the water, was

STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 305
transferred to the surface of the oil, and the water under it
was agitated with the same commotions as at sea.
I have shewn this experiment to a number 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 il 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 som^ other ob
scure parts of natural knowledge.
I am, &c. B. FRANKLIN.

TO DR, BROWNRIGG,
Dear Sir, London, Nov 7, 1773.
I thank you for the remarks of your learned friend at
Carhsle. I had, when a youth, read and smiled at Pliny's
account of a practice among the seamen of his time, lo 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 lo slight the learning of the an
cients. The learned, too, are apt to slight too much the
knowledge of the vulgar. The cooling by evaporation was
long an instance of the latter. This art of smoothing the
waves 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.

306 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL.
In 1757, being at sea in a fleet of<S6 sail bound against
Louisbourg, I observed the wakes of two ofthe ships to be
remarkably smooth, while all the others were ruffled by tho
wind, which blew fresh. Being puzzled with the differing
appearance, I at last pointed it out to our captain, and
asked hira 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 hltie ;" and this answer he gave me with an air of
some httle contempt, as to a person ignorant of what every
body else knew. In my own mind I at first slighted his so-
-lutioQi though I was not able to think of another; but, re
collecting what J had formerly read in Phny, 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 ray printed papers *, This I was continually
looking at Etnd considering, as an appearance to me inex
plicable. An old sea captain, then a passenger with me,
thought little of it, supposing il an effect of the same kind
with that of oil put on water to smooth il, which he said was
a practice of the Berraudians when they would strike fish,
which they could not see, if the surface of the water was
ruffled by the wmd. This practice I had never before
heard of, and was obhged to hira 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 tiU 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 tie preceding pnper<

STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 807
The same gentleman told me, he had heard it was a prac
tice with the fishermen of Lisbon, when about to return into
^he river (if they saw before them too great a surf upon the
bar, jvhich they apprehended might fill their boats in
passing) lo empty a bottie or two of oil into the sea, which
Vould 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
Lad often been in the Mediterranean, I was informed, that
the divers there, who, when under water in their bu.siness,
need light which the curling ofthe surface interrupts by tho
refractions of so many httle waves, let a small quantity oi
oil now and then out of their mouths, which rising to the
surface smooths il, and permits the light lo come down tu
them. All these informations I at limes revolved in my
mind, and wondered to find no mention of them in our books
of experimental philosophy.
A I length being at Clapham, where there is, on the com
mon, a large pond, which I observed one day lo be very
rough with the wind, 1 fetched out a cruet of oil, and dropt
a little of il on the water. I saw il spread itself with sur«
prising swiftness upon the surface: but the effect of
smoothing tte waves was not produced; for I had
applied it first on the leeward side of the pond, where
the waves were largest, and the ijind 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 calm over a space se
veral yards'square, which spread amazingly, and extended
itself gradually till it reached the lee side, making all that
quarter of the pond, perhaps half an acre, as smooth as a
looking-glass. After this I contrived to take with me, whenever I went
mto the country, a httle oil in the upper hollow joint of m
iamboo cane, with which I might repeat the experimen
X 2

y08 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL.
as opportunity snould offer, and I found it constantly to
succeed. In these experiments, one circumstance struck rae 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,
or 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 ils 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 lo recede every way from the drop, as frora a
centre, leaving a large clear space. The quantity of this
force, and the distance to which it will operate, I have not
yet ascertained ; but I think it a cui'ious inquiry, and I wish
to understand whence il arises.
In our journey to the north, when we had the pleasure
of seeing you at Orraathwaite, we visited the celebrated
Mr. Smealon, 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 exaraination he
found they were not so. I immediately concluded that tho
motion was occasioned by the power of the repulsion

STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 309
above mentioned, and that the oil issuing gradually from
the spjngy body of the fly continued the motion. He
found some more flies drowned in oil, with which the ex--
periment was repealed 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, ofthe size of a common fly; when the stream of
repelling particles issuing from the poit.t made the comraa
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 lable. A considerable surface of water is
necessary to give room for the expansion of a small quan
tity of oii. 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;
bul as soon as that film has reached the sides of the dish,
no raore will issue frora the drop, but it remains in the form
of oil, the sides of tiie dish putting a stop toils dissipation
by prohibiting the farther expansion ofthe 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 water, which from lime to
time they pump out lo 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 RY OIL.
There seems to be no natural repulsion between water
and air, such as to keep thera from coming into contact
with each other. Hence we find a quantity of air in water;
and if we extract it by raeans of the air-pump, the same,
again exposed lo the air, will soon imbibe an eaual 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 imraedialely
subside, and leave the neighbouring water quiet : but in
subsiding raises nearly as much ofthe water next to il, the
friction of the parts making littie difference. Thus a stone
dropped in a pool raises first a single wave round itself; and
leaves it, by sinking to the bottom ; bul that first wave sub
siding raises a second, the second a third, and so on in cir
cles lo a great extent,
A small p.-jwer continually operating will produce a great
action, 'V finger applied to a weighty suspended bell can
at firs' move il bul httle ; if repeatedly applied, though
wiliv ,io greater strength, the motion increases till the bell
swings lo 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 lo include a vast mass of
water in each wave, which in its motion acts with great
violence. 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 lo the spot
whereon it falls ; it will not be imbibed by the water ; it
will be at hberty to expand itself: and it will spread on ^

STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 31 1
surface tha besides being smooth to the most perfect de
gree of polish, prevents perhaps, by repelling the oil, all
immediate contact, keeping il 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 lo 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 il finds it. It moves a little the oil, indeed,
which, being between it and the water, serves it lo 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 may 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 actiiig.upon,
and enlarging- those elements, and thus Ihe whole pond is
calmed. Totally therefore we might suppress the waves in any
required place, if we could come al the windward place
. where they take their rise. This in the ocean can seldom
if ever be doiie. But perhaps something may he done on
particular occasions, lo moderate the violenceof the waves
when we are in the midst of them, and prevent their break-
ins: 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 il were, to push it with greater force. This hold is di
minished, by preventing the generation of those small ones.
And possibly loo, when a wave's surface is oiled, the wind,
W) passing over it, may rather in sorae degree press il down,

312 STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL.
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 hft 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 tiie
learned Professor Alleraand (to all whom I showed the ex
periment of smoothing in a windy day the large piece of
water at the head of the Green Park) a letter was men
tioned, which had been received by the count from Bata-
via, relative lo the saving of a Dutch ship in a storm, by
pouring oil into the sea, I much desired tp see that letter,
and a copy of it was promised me, which I afterward re
ceived.

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 bein«»
cumraunicated to you, except that the captain found hira
self obliged, for greater safety jn wearing the ship, to pour

STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 813
oil into the sea, to prevent the wavtes breaking over her,
which had an excellent effect, and succeeded in preserving
us. As he poured out but a little al a lirae, the East India
Company owes perhaps ils 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,
bul that we have found people here so prejudiced against
the experiment, as to make il 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 circuranavigators, particularly where accounts
are given of pleasant and fertile islands which they much
desired to land upon, when sickness made il more neces
sary, bul 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 not 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 ofthe shores about Spithead, in which he kindly pro
posed lo 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
piortsmouth : and a day of wind happening, which made a

314 STILLING OF WAVES BY OtL.
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
pomt (a place more sheltered from Ih^sea) who came round
and placed themselves opposite lo llie 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, phed 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 experiment 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 ;
but 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 il smoothed, not that it was
laid level; bul because, though the swell continued, ils 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 foara) 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 il 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 |i-ials: it is therefore I have been
thus particular. I shall only add what I apprehend may
have been the reason of our disappointment.
J couceive, that the operation of oil ou water is, first, to

STILLING OF WAVES BY OIL. 313
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 waves 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 il into waves.
Now waves once raised, whether by the wind or any other
power, have the same mechanical operation; by which they
continue to rise and iall, as a pendulum will continue lo
swing, a long time after the force ceases to act by which
the raotion was-firsl produced : that motion will, however,
cease in time ; bul time is necessary. Therefore, though
oil spread on an agitated sejrmay weaken the push of the
•ttfind on those waves whose surfaces are covered by it, and
so, by receiving less fresh impulse, they may gradually sub
side ; yet a considerable lime, or a distance through -which
they will take time to move, maybe necessary lo make the
effect sensible on any shore in a diminution ofthe 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 thera, take off the effect of
wind on waves already raised, it is not lo be expected that
those waves should be instantly levelled. The raotion they
have received will, for some tirne, continue ; and if the
shore is not far distant, they arrive there so soon, that
their effect upon il 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.

310 INOCULATION.
I was, however, greatly obhged to Captain Bentinck,
for the cheerfhl 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 that blustering unpleasant day, with ^ patiepce
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 obedient, 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 conies 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 lo write something on the small-pox shortly. We
shall both be obliged to you for a word on this affair.
The chief particulars of our visitation you have in the
public prints. Bul 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 lown, and with
success beyond expectation. We lost one in eleven one-
sixth, but had wc 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 thfc 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 uot so
kind this time.
If there be any particulars which you want to know, please
tio 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 whiles, and one thousand five
llundred and forty-four blacks, including those absent, on
account ofthe sraall-pox, many of whom, it is probable, will
oever 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.
Bul my design was only to relate the phenomena as they
appeared tp me. I have received so much light and plea
sure frora 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 al any time that be the
case, you will certainly hear of it. I am, Sir, &c.

FROM BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, ESQ. OF PHILADELPHIA.
In Answer to ihe Preceding^
Sir, Philadelphia, Aug. 13, 1752,
I received your favour of the 3d instant. Some time
ialSt winter I procured from one of our physicians an ac-

3j8 INOCULATION*
cotaiit of the number of persons inoculated during the fiyet
visitations of the small-pox we have had in twenty-two
years ; which account I sent to Mr. W. V. of your lovvn,
and have no copy. If I remember right, the numbvir ex
ceeded eight hundred, and the deaths were but four. I
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-
temoer ; bul the eruptions appearing soon after the ope
ration, il is supposed they had taken the infection before,
in the coramon way,
1 shall be glad lo eee what Dr, DoUglas raay write on
the subject. I have a French piece printed al Paris, 1724»,
entitled. Observations sur la Saignee, du Pied, et sur la
Purgation au commencement de la Petite Verole, and
Raisons de double contre l' Inoculation. A letter of the
doctor's is mentioned in it. If he or you have il not, and
desire to see it, I will send il. Please lo favour me with
the particulars of your purging method, to prevent the se
condary fever.
, I am indebted for your preceding letter, -Jiut business
sometimes obliges one lo 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-
litate.'5 against them. I own I have too strong a penchant;
to the building of hypotheses ; they indulge my natural in-t
dolence: 1 wish I had more of your patience and accuracy
m making observations, on which alone true philosophy
can be fotinded. And, I assure you, nothing can be more
obliging to me, than your kind communication of those
you make, however tiiey may disagree with my pre-con-
ceived notions,
I am sorry lo hear that the number of your inhabitants

PERNICIOUS EFFECTS OF LEAD, 319
4ecreases. I some time since wrote a small paper of'
thoughts on the peopling of countries, which, if I can
find 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 ffom.
Sir, your's, &c,
B, FRANKLIN.

TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN ESQ,
On the Effects of Lead upon the human Constitution.
Dear Friend, Philadelphia, July 31, 1786.
I recollect tiiat when 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 proraised lo send you
in writing a particular account of several facts I then raen-
tioned lo you, of which you thought some good use might
be made, I now sit down to fulfil that promise.
The first thing I reraeraber 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 lirabs. The distilleries being examined on
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 still-heads
and worms hereafter.
In 1724, being in London, I went to work in the
printing-house of Mr. Palmer, Bartholomew-close, as a

320 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
had the additional advantage, when the types were not
only dried but heated, of being comfortable to 'the hands
working over Ihem in cold weather, I therefore some
times heated ray case when the types did not want drying-
Bul an old workman observing il, advised me not to do so,
telhng 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 week, 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 soraelimes felt, as il 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.
Jaraes, a letter-founder in the sarae Close, and asking him
if his people, who worked over the little furnaces of raelted
metal, were not subject lo that disorder, he made light of
any danger from the effluvia, bul ascribed il lo particles of
the metal swallowed with their food by slovenly workmen,
who went lo their meals after handling the metal, without
well washing their fingers, so that some of the metallme
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 raade me still afraid of those effluvia.
Being in Derbyshire al some of the furnaces for smell
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 the
effect of such vegetables eaten by animals. It may be well
to raake the inquiry.
In America I have often observed, that on the roofs of
our shingled-houses, where moss is apt to grow in northern
exposures, if there be any thing on the roof painted with

PERNICIOUS Effects of lead. 321
frhite lead, such as balusters, or frames of dormant win
dows, &c. there is constantly a streak on the shingles from
such p^int down lo 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 paml might not be suflicient lo produce any
sensible ill effect on our bodies. "But I have been told of
a case in Europe, I forget the place, where a whole family
was afflicted with what we call the dry-belly-achy or colica
pictorum, by drinking rain-water. Il was at a country-
seat, which being situated too high to have the advantage
oC7a well, was supplied With water from a lank, which re
ceived the water from the leaded roofs. This had been
drank several years without mischief, bul some young
trees planted near the house growing up above the roof,
and shedding their leaves upon it, il wals 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 quahties,
Wheh I was in Paris with Sir John Pringle in 1767, he
visited La Charite, 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, >vho 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
work in lead; such as plumbers, glaziers,' painters, &c.
exceptihg 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, lo fix the ends
of iron balustrades in stones ; and that the soldiery had
Y

322 DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH;
been' employed by painters as labourers in grinding oi
colours. This, my dear friend, is all I can at present recollect on
the subject. You will 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
ceived and practised on.
I ara ever your's most affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.

TO M. DUBOURG.
Observations on the prevailing Doctrines of Life and
Death.
* * * Your observations on the causes of death, and the
experiments which you propose fbr recalling to life those
who appear to be killed by lightning, demonstrate equally
yoiir 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, il is said, till the sand
becomes petrified : and then, being inclosed in the stone,
it may still hve 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 lo 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: bul if we reflect, that the ne
cessity of nourishment, which animals experience in their
ordinary stale, proceeds from the continual waste of their

DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH, S£3
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 ahraenl ;
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 lo 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, frora which il may draw a sufficient quantity df
moisture lo supply that which exhales from its substance,
and is carried off' continually by the air. Perhaps, how
ever, if it were buried in quicksilver, il raighl preserve for
a considerable space of lirae its vegetable life, its smell and
colour. If this be the case, il might prove a commodious
method of transporting from distant countries those deli
cate plants, which are unable lo sustain the inclemency of
the weather at sea, and wliich require particular care and
attention, I have seen an instance of comraon flies pre
served in a' manner somewhat similar. They had been
drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the tirae when
it was bottled in Virginia, lo be sent hither (lo London).
At the opening of one of the bottles, at the house of a
friend where I then was, three drowned flies fell into the
first glass that was filled. Having heard it reraarked that
drowned fhes were capable of being revived by the rays of
the sun, I proposed making the experiment upon these :
they were therefore exposed lo the sun upon a sieve, which
had been employed lo strain them out of the wine. Jn less
than three hours, two of thera 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-feel, and soon after began to
fly, finding tiiemselves in Old England, without knowing
Y 2

324 ON THE PRICE OF CORN,
how they came thither. The third continued lifeless till
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 lo life al any period, however
distant ; for having a very ardent desire to see and observe
the slate 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 tirae, lo 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 lo see such an art
brought in our time lo 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-
cock. I am, &c.
B. FRANKLIN

On the Price of Corn, and Management of the Poor.
TO MESSIEURS THE PUBLIC.
I am one of that class of people that feeds you all, and at
present is abused by you all;— in short, I am a farmer.
By your news-papers we are told, that God had sent a
very short harvest le some otiier 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 miUions among us, and raake 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 il for you, for
less money, or take it for nothing.
Being thus attacked by both ends of the constitution,
the head and tail of government, what am I to do?
Must I keep my corn in the barn, to feed and increase
the breed of rats ? — be it so ; — they cannot be less thankful
than those I have been used lo feed.
Are we farmers the only people lo be grudged the
profits of our honest labour ?— And why ? One of the late
scribblers against us gives a bill of fare of the provisions al
my daughter's wedding, and proclaims to all the world, that
we had the insolence to eat beef and pudding! — Has he
not read the precept in the good book. Thou shall not
muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadgth 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 al a cheap rate !
Hark ye, Mr. Oaf :— -The farmers live splendidly, you
say. And pray, would you have thera 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 darling
manufacturers, and so scatter it again all over the nation?
The wool would produce me a belter price, if it were
suffered to go to foreign markets ; but that. Messieurs the
Public, your laws will not permit. Il milst be kept all at
home, that our dear manufabturers 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 sav, that the farmers sub-

02(5 ON THE PRICE OF CORN,
mitted to the prohibition on the exportation of wool, bemg -
raade 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 lo this. How so ? Why,
truly, the cloth is exported ; and that keeps up the price.
Now if il 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, lo make them all cheaper at
home. And cheap enough they will be, I wiU warrant vou
— till people leave off making thera.
Some folks seem to think they ought never lo 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, slick to it, and carry it through. I hear it is said,
that though il was necessary and right for the ra  y lo
advise a prohibition of the exportation of corn, yet it was
contrary to law ; and also, that though il was contrary to
law for the mob lo 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 thera from the consequences of having
acted illegally. If so, pass another in favour of the mob.
Others say, some ofthe mob ought to be hanged, byway
of exaraple  If so, — but I say no raore 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,

AND MANAGEMENT OF THE POOR, 327
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 al 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, il seems, we farmers must take so much less, that
the poor may have il so much cheaper.
This operates then as a tax for the maintenance of the
poor, A very good thing, you will say. But I ask, why
a partial tax ? why laid on us farmers only ? If il be a
good thing, pray. Messieurs the Public, take your share of
it, by indemnifying us a little out of your pubhc treasury.
In doing a good thing, there is both honour and pleasure
— you are welcome lo your share of both.
For my own part, 1 am not so well satisfied ofthe good
ness of this thing. I ara for doing good lo 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
verty, bul leading or driving them out of it. In my youth,
I travelled much, and 1 observed in different countries,
that the more public provisions were made for the poor,
¦ the less they provided fbr 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 raany hospitals lo
receive them when 'they are sick or lame, founded and
maintained by voluntary charities; so many alms-houses
for the aged of both sexjcs, together with a solemn general
law made by the rich lo subject their estates to a heavy lax
for the support of the poor. Under all these obligations,
are our poor, modest, humble, and thankful? And do they
use their best endeavours to maintain themselves, and

32S ON THE PRICE OF CORN,
lighten our shoulders of this burden ? On the contrary, 1
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
preraiura for the encouragement of idleness, and you
should not now wonder, that il 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 shall
thou labour, though one of the old commandments long
treated as out of date, will again be looked upon as a re-
spectablo precept; industry will increase, and with it
plenty among the lower peuple ; their circumstances will
mend, and more will be done for their happiness by inuring
them to provide for theraselves, than could be done by
dividing all your estates among them,
"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 your's, and therefore from you (at least frora those of
you who are writers) I deserve a littie indulgence, I am
your's, &c.
ARATOR.

ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, &c. 329
TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ.
On Luxury, Idleness, and Industry.
¦Written in 1784.
It IS wonderful how preposterously the affairs of tiiis
world are managed. Naturally one would iraagine, that
the interest of a few individuals should give way lo general
interest; bul 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, al 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 tiie greatest fool upon earth,
I have not yet, indeed, thought of a remedy for luxury.
I am not sure that in a great state il 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 bo
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 raore 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 reniember a circurastance. The sk^ipper 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 al my house with an old farmer of Cape
May, his passenger, he mentioned the cap, and how much
his daughter had been pleased with il. " But," said he,
" it proved a dear cap lo our congregation." " How so ?"
" When my daughter appeared with it at meeting, il 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, " bul you do not tell all the
story. I think the cap was nevertheless an advantage lo
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 hkely to con
tinue and increase lo 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, foUd of show
ing their wealth, will be extravagant, and ruin themselves.
Uaws cannot prevent this : and perhaps it is not always an
evil to the public. A shilRng 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, hves in it expen
sively, and in a few years ruins himself: bul the masons
carpenters, smiths, and other honest tradesman, have been
by his employ assisted in maintaining and raising their fa-

, AND INDUSTRY, 331
milies ; 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 raanner as it is a private one. If there
be a nation, for instance, that exports its beef and hnen, to
pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a greal
part of its people hve upon potatoes, and wear no shirts,
wherein does it differ from the sol, who lets , his family
starve, and sells his clothes lo buy drink? Our American
coramerce 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. Bul we have plenty,
and live well nevertheless, though, by being soberer, we
might be richer.
The vast quantity of forest land we have yet to clear,
and put in order for cultivation, will for a long time keep
the body of our nation laborious and frugal. Forraing an
opinion of our people and their manners, by what is seen
among the inhabitants ofthe sea-ports, is judging from an
fanproper sample. The people of the trading towns raay
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. Itihas 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 coraforts of
life, want and raisery 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 al the end of the year I shall be no richer
than I was at the beginning. Bul if, while I feed them, I
employ Some in spinning, others in making bricks, 8ic,
for building, the value of my cOrn will be arrested and re
main with rae, and at the end of the year we may al! be
belter clothed and better lodged. And if, instead of cm-
ploying a man I feed in making bricks, I employ him in
fiddhng forme, the corn he cats is gone, and no part of his
manufacture remains to augment Ihe 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 araounts lo
nothing, when the necessaries and conveniences of life
are in question. What is the bulk of comracrce, for
which we fight and destroy each otiier, but the toil of mil
lions for superfluities, lo the great hazard and loss of many
lives, by the constant dangers ofthe sea? How much la
bour is spent in building and fitting greal ships, to go to
China aud Arabia for lea and coffee, to the West Indies
for sugar, lo Araerica for tobacco ? These tilings cannot
be called the necessaries of hfe, for ou." ancestors lived very
comfortably without thera,

AND INDUSTRY, 333
A question may be asked: could all these people now
employed in raising, making, or carrying superfluities, be
subsisted by raising necessaries ? I think they migh >
The world is large, and a greal part of it still uncultivated.
Many hundred millions of acres in Asia, Africa, and
America, are still iu a forest, and a great deal even in Eu
rope, On a hundred acres ofthis 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 lo 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 lo 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 some
expense. The feet demand shoes, the legs stockings,
the rest of the body clothing, and the belly a good deal of
victuals. Our eyes, though exceedingly useful, ask, when
reasonable, only the cheap assistance of spectacles, which
could not rauch irapair our finances. Bul the eyes of other
people are the eyes that ruin us. If all but myself were
blind, I should want neither fine clothes, fine houses, nor
fine furniture.

334 SMUGGLING.
. On Smuggling, and its various Species.
Sir,
There are many people that would be thought, and even
think themselves, honest men, who fail nevertheless in 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 greal 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 i-evenues by smuggling, when they
have an opportunity, or encouraging smugglers by buying
their goods,
I fell into these reflections the other day, on hearing
two gentlemen of reputation discoursing about a small
estate, which one of them was inclined to sell, and the
other to buy; when the seller, in recommending the place,
remarked, that its situation was very advantageous on this
account, that, being on the sea-coast in a smugghng
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
btrt insisted, that the seller, in the advanced price he de
manded on that account, rated the advantage much above
its value. And neither of thera seemed to think dealing
with smugglers a {iractice that an honest man (provided he

SMUGGLING. 835
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 b( maintaining our fleets and armies lo be
ready for our defence on occasion, makes il necessary, not
only to continue old faxes, but often lo look out for new
ones, perhaps it may not be unuseful to slate this matter in
a light that few seem lo have considered il 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 ofthe legislature,
which branch has alone the power of regulating their >
taxes. Now whenever the government finds it necessary
for the comraon benefit, advantage, and safety of the na
tion, for the security of our liberties, property, religion, and
every thing that is dear lo us, that certain sums shall be
yearly raised by taxes, duties, &c. and paid into the pubhc
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 lo 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 smugghng, or dealing with smugglers, contrive
to evade paying his just share of the expense, as settled
by his own representatives in parhament ; and wrongfully
throw it upon his honester and perhaps much poorer

336 SMUGGLING,
neighbours ? He will perhaps be ready to tell rae, that he
does not wrong his neighbours ; he scorus the iinputalion,
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 apphed to national purposes.
And when a duty i's laid for a particular public and neces
sary purpose, if, through smuggling, that duty falls short of
raising the sum required, and other duties rausl 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 would not however be supposed lo 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, il will not
lessen the crime : it is no justification of a robbery, that
the person robbed was rich and able to bear it. The king
has as much right to justice as the meanest of his subjects;
and as he is truly the common father of his people, those
that rob him fall under the scripture 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
frora France or Flanders ? Is any gentieman asharaed lo
undertake and execute the coram.ission ? Not ui the least.

SMUGGLING. 337'
They will talk of il freely, even before Others whose pockets
they are contriving to pick by this piece of knavery.
Among other branches ofthe revenue, that of the post-
office is,, by a late law, appropriated to the discharge of
our public debt, lo defray the expenses ofthe state. None
but members of/ parliamenty and a few pubhc 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 hurl to the revenue, an
injury which they must now lake the pains to conceal by
writing the whole superscription themselves. And yet
such is our insensibihty lo justice in this particular, that
nothing is more common than lo see, even in a reputable
company, a very honest gentleman or lady declare his or
her intention to cheat the nation of threepence by a frank,
and without blushing apply to one of the very legislators
themselves, with a modest request, that he would be pleased
to becorae an accomplice in the crime, and assist iu the
perpetration. There are those who by these practices take a great deal
in a year out of the public purse, and pUl 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
apphes it lohis own use, when he knows it belongs lo 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 steahng, and upon this principle, that if Ihero
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,
z

338 OBSERVATIONS ON WAR.
if there were none who knowin^y' encouraged them hf
buying their goods, we may say, that the encouragers of
srauggling 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 evade paying for their wheels and
their plate, in defiance of law and justice, and yet declaim
against corruption and peculation, as if their own ha^ds
and hearts were pure and unsullied? The Americans offend
us grievously, when, contrary lo our laws, they smuggle
goods into their own country; and yet they had no hand in
making those laws. I do not, however, pretend from
thence lo 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 tiie Araericans, and for
every littie infringement of the acts of trade, or obstruc
tion given by a petty raob lo an officer of our customs in
that country, calling for vengeance against the whole peo
ple as REBELS and fraitors, 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 look over the
heflge.
F, B,

Observations on War.

By the original law of nations, war and extirpation were
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, 339
imore 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 il not be agreed lo, 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
sides, and be permitted to follow their employments in se
curity? viz,
I . 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 comraunicating and exchanging
the necessaries and conveniences of life,
4, Artists and raechanics, inhabiting and working in
open towns.
It is hardly necessary to add, that the hospitals of ene
mies should be unmolested — they ought to be assisted. It
is for the interest of humanity in general, that the occasions
of war, and the inducements to il, should be diminished.
If rapine be abolished, one of fhe encouragements to war is
taken away ; and peace therefore more likely lo continue
and be lasting.
The practice of robbing merchants on the high seas — a
remnant ofthe ancient piracy— though it maybe acciden
tally beneficial lo particular persons, is far from being- pro
fitable to all engaged in il, 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 lo do the
same, Bul the eneray at the same time becorae raore care
ful, arra their merchant ships belter, and render them not
so easy to he taken: they go also more undertheprotec-
z 2

340 SLAVE TRADE,
tion of convoys. Thus, while the privateers to take thera
are multiphed, 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 rauch
greater than the whole araounl 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 hving, the
habit of which continues when the means of supporting it
cease, and finally ruins them : a ju^l 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 tiie speech of Mr. Jackson
in congress, against meddhng with the affair of slavery, or
atlerapting to mend the condition of slaves, it put me in
mind of a sirailar speech, made about' one hundred years
since, by Sidi Meheraet Ibrahim, a member of the divan of
Algiers, which maybe seen in Martin's account of his con
sulship, 1687, It was against granting the petition ofthe
sect called Erika, or PUrisls, who prayed for the abolition
of pirtujy and slavery, as being unjust. Mr, Jackson does

SLAVE TRADBi 841
aot quote it ; perhaps he has not seen it, Tf, therefore,
some of its reasonings are to be found in his eloquent
speech, il may only show, that men's interests operate, and
are operated on, -with surprising sirailarity, in all countries
and chmates, whenever they are under similar circum
stances. The African speech, as translated, is as follows :
" 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 -\yilh the comrao-
dities their countries produce, and which are so necessary
for us ? If we forbear to raake 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 lo 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 governmentj
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,
bul even manumit those we have. But who is lo indem
nify their masters for the loss? Will the state do il? Is
our treasury sufficient? Will the Erika do it? Can they
do it ? Or would they, to do what they think justice lo 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
thein will return to their native couptries; they .know too

342 SLAVE TRADE,
well the greater hardships they muat there be subject to.
They will not embrace our holy .religion-: they will not
adopt our manners : our people will not poUute themselves
by intermarrying with them. Must me maintain them as
beggars in our streets? or suffer our properties to be the
prey of their piflage? for raen accustoraed lo slavery will
network for a hvehhood, 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 Islanism 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 be
sending them out of hght 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
wildemess, 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 ignorant lo establish good government :
and the wild Arabs \^ould soon molest and destroy, or
again enslave them. While serving us, we take care to
provide thera with every thing ; and they are treated with
humanity. The labourers in their own countries are, as I

SLAVE TRADE. 343
am mformed, worse fed, lodged, and clothed. The condi
tion of most of them is therefore already mended, and re
quires no farther improveraent. Here their lives are in
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 sorae of the religious mad
bigotsi -^yho now tease us with their silly petitions, have, in
a fit of blind zeal, freed their slaves, il 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,
frora the supposed raerits of so good a work, lo be excused
from damnation. How grossly are they mistaken, in
imagining slavery lo be disavowed by the Alcoran ! Are
not the two precepts, to quote no more, " Masters, treat
your slaves with kindness — Slaves, serve your masters with
cheerfulness and fidelity," clear proofs to the -contrary ?
Nor can the plundering of infidels be in that sacred book
forbidden ; since it is well known from it, that God has
¦ given the world, and all that it contains, to his faithful
Mussulmen, who are to enjoy it, of right, as fast as they
can conquer il. Let us then hear no raore 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 the comfort and happiness
f)t a whole nation of true behevers, to the whim of a few
Erika, and dismiss their petition,"
The result was, as Martin tells us, that the divan
came to this resolution :— ff That the doctrine, that the
plundering and enslaving the Christian^, is unjust, is al best
probleraatical; bul that it is the interest ofthis state to con
tinue 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, lo 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 Pentisyh
vania, viz. The Court ofthe Press.
Power of this Court.
It may receive and promulgate accusations of all kinds,
ag.ainst all persons and characters, among the citizens of
the state, and even against all inferior courts ; and may
judge, sentence, and condemn lo infamy, not only private
individuals, bul public bodies, &c. with or without inquiry
or hearing, at the court's discretion.
Whose Favour, or for whose Emolument this Court is
Established.
In favour of about one citizen in five hundred, who, by
education, or practice in scribbhng, 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 hundredtii part ofthe citizens have the pri\dleo-e
of accusing and abusing the other four hundred and ninety-
nine parts, at their pleasure ; or they may hire out their
pens and press lo 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 narae of the accuser raade known to hira ;
nor has he an opportunity of confronting the witnesses
against him, (or they are kept in the dark, as in the Spanish
court of inquisition. Nor is there any petty jury of his peers
sworn lo try the truth of the charges. The proceedings
are also sometimes so rapid, that an honest good citizen
may find himself suddenly and unexpectedly accused, and
in the same morning^judged and condemned, and sentence
pronounced against hira, 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 lo have a
fair trial by a jury of his peers.
Foundation of its Authority.
Il is said lo be founded On an article in the slate con
stitution, which establishes the liberty of the press — a li
berty which every Pennsylvanian would fight and die for,
tiiough 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 coramon 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 pubhc measures aud political opinions, let u§ 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,
JWheoever our legislators shaU please so lo alter the law ;

346 FREEDOM OF THE PRESS.
and shall cheerfully consent to exchange my liberty o^
abusing others, for the privilege of not being abused my
self. By xsahom 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
lame of the citizens : for this court is above that council,
and may accuse, judge, and condemn il at pleasure. Noris
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 pAss, a few types, and a huge pair of black
ing balls, may commissionate himself, and his court is im
mediately estabhshed in the plenary possession and exer
cise of ils rights. For if you make the least complaint of
the judge's conduct, he daubs his blacking balls in your
face wherever he meets you : and besides tearing your pri
vate character to splinters, marks you out for the odium of
the public, as au enemy to the hberty 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 n lust in man no charm can tame.
Of loudly publishing his neighbour's shame.
Hence, On eagles' wings, immortal scandals fly,
¦Wljile 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. 34?
nappy if others can be depressed to a level with themselves,
there are a number sufficient in every greal lown 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 hved, by the ashes thrown oil the ice before the doors:
probably he vvould have formed a different conjecture of
the temper of those whora he might find engaged in such
subscriptions. Ofthe Checks proper to be Established against the Abuser
of Power in those Courts.
Hitherto there are none. Rut 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 learUedly explained, I find myself
so far enlightened as lo suspect some check may be pro
per in this p^rt also: bul I have been al 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 il ; ^hich is, by restoring to the peo
ple 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 il by a box on the ear ; and if repealed, 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
^busing seems to repiain in full force ; the laws made
against it being rendered ineffectual by the hberty 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-

848 ADDRESS FOR
gour, but to permit the liberty of the cudgel to go with it,
pari passu. Thus, my fellow citizens, if an impudent writer
attacks your reputation — 4®*''®'' 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 hira in the night,
attack him behind, and give hira a good_ drubbing. If
your adversary hires better writers than himself lo abuse
you more effectually, you may hire brafvny porters, stronger
than yourself, lo assist you in giving him a more effectual
drubbing. Thus far goes my project, as to private resent
raent and retribution. But if the pubhc 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, bul that we should in moderation content our
selves with tarring and feathering, and tos.sing them in a
blanket. If, however, it should be thought, that this proposal of
inine may disturb the pubhc 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 exphcit law raark their extent and limits : and
at the same time that they secure the person of a citizen
from assaults, they would likewise provide for Ihe security
of bis reputation.

An Address to the" Public, from the Pennsylvania So
ciety for promoting the Abolition of Slavery, and the
Relief office Negroes, unlawful^/ held m Bondage.
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
itself throughout the world, and humbly hoping for the
continuance of the divine blessing on our labours, we have
ventured to make ^n 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 debaseraenl 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, loo frequently sinks beneath the common standard
ofthe human species. The galling chains, that bind his
body, do also fetter his intellectual faculties, and impair
the social affections of his heart. Accustomed lo 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 phssion of fear. He
is poor and friendless — perhaps worn out by extreme la
bour, age,- and disease.
Under such circumstances, freedom may often prc'e a
misfortune to liimself, and prejudicial lo society.
Attention lo emancipated black people, it is therefore
to be hoped, will become a branch of our national police ;
but as far as we contribute to promote this emancipation,
so fhr that attention is evidentiy a serious duty inciimbenl
on us, and which we mean lo -discharge lo the best of our
judgment and abilities.
To in&tru9t, lo advise, lo quahfy those who have been
restored to freedom, for the exercise and enjoyment of

350 PLAN FGR IMPROVING THE
civil liberty, lo promote in them habits of industry, to fur-*
nish thera with eraploymenls suited lo their age, sex, ta
lents,, and otjier circumstances, and to procure their chil
dren an education calculated for' their future situation id
fife; these are the great outlines of the annexed plan^
which we have adopted, and which we conceive will essen
tially promote the public goody and the happiness of these
our hitherto loo much neglected fellow-creatures,
A plan so extensive, cannot be carried into execution
without considerable pecuniary resources, beyond the
present ordinary funds of the society. We hope much
from the generosity of enhghlened 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.

Plati for Improving the Condition ofthe Free Blacks*
The business relative to free blacks shall be transacted
oy a committee of twenty-four persons, annually elected
by ballot, at the meeting of this society, in the month
called April ; aud 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 shaU superintend the
morals, general conduct, and ordinary situation of the free
negroes, and afford thera advice and instruction, protection
from wrongs, and other friendly offices,
II, A committee of guardians who shall place out chib-

CONDITION OF FREE BLACKS. 351
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.-
Ill, A committee of education, who shall superintend
the school-instruction of the children and youth of the
fr6e blacks ; they may either influence tiiem lo attend re
gularly the schools, already established in this city, or forra
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 ofthe 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 lo
procure constant employment for those free negroes who
are able to work : as the want of this would occasion po--
verly, 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 instruclion and maintenance.
The committee may attempt the institution of some Useful
and simple manufactures, which require bul httie skill, and
also may assist, in commencing business, such as appear tOs
be qualified for it.

§52 PAPER: A POEM,
Whenever the committee of inspection shall find per
sons of any particular description requiring attention, they
shall immediately direct thera 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 shallbe referred lo the whole comraittee.
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 lo be kept
separate from the other funds ofthis 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, in the months called April and
October. Philadelphia, 26th October, 1789.

Paper : a Poem.
Some wit of old — such wits of old there were—
Whose hints show'd meaning, whose allusions care
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind,
Call'd clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind ;
-\yhen still, as opening sense her dictates wrof e,.
Fair virtue put a seal, or yice 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 mon.
Pray note the fop — half powder and half lace-
Nice as a bandbo.\ were his dwelling-place :
He's the silt paper,v/bicii apart you store,
And lock from vulgar hands, in the 'scruttMi-e,

i»APER: A POEM. 353
Blechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth,'
Are copy-paper, of inferior worth ;
Less priz'd, more useful, for your desk decreed.
Free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need.
The wretch, whom av'rice bids to pinch and spare,
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarse brown paper ; such as pedlars choose
To wrap up wares, which better men will use.
Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys.
Will any paper match him ? Yes, throughont.
He's a true sinking paper^ past all doubt.
The retail politician's anxious thought
Deems this side always right, and that stark nought;
He foams with censure : with applause he raves^—
A dupe to rumours, and a tool of knaves ;
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While such a thing as fools-cap has a name.
The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high,
Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry.
Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure :
-What's he ? Wlial ? 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 class you'll find :
They are the mere waste-paper of mankind.
Observe the maiden, innocently sweet.
She's fair white-paper, an unsullied sheet:
On which the happy man, whom fate ordains.
May write his name, and take her for his painss
One instance more, and only one I'll bring —
'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing.
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own,
Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone :
True genuine royal-paper is his breast, —
Of all the kinds most preciousj purest, best.

354 PLAIN TRUTH.

Plain Truth; or serious Considerations on the Present
State of the City of Philadelphia, and Province of
Pennsylvania. BY A TRADESMAN OF PHILADELPHIA.*
It is said, the wise Italians make this proverbial remark
«i 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 thera loo httle apprehensive of
danger, so that they are often surprised by it, unprovided
of the proper means of security. When it is too late,
tliey are sensible of their imprudence : after great fires,
they provide buckets and engines : after a pestilence, they
think of keeping clean their streets and common sewers :
and when a lown has been sacked by their enemies, they
provide for ils defence, &c. This kind of after-wisdom is
mdeed 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 lo

* " In 1744, a Spanish privateer, having entered the Bay
of Delaware, ascended as high as Newcastle, to the "^reat
terror of the citizens of Philadelphia. On tins occasion
Frankhn 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 defi^nge of the country."

PhAlU TRLTH. 856
speak their sentiments : that; ifpossible, those who seem to
sleep maybe awakened, lo think of some means of avoiding
or preventing the mischief, before it be too late,
Beheving, therefore, that it is my duty, I shall honestiy
speak my mind in the following paper.
War at this time rages over a greal part of the known
World : our newspapers are weekly filled with fresh accounts
ofthe destruction it everywhere occasions. Pennsylvania,
indeedj situate in the centre of the colonies, has hitherto
enjoyed profound repose ; and though our nation is en
gaged in a bloody w ar with two greal and powerful king
doms, yet, defended in a greal degree from the Frenchj on
the one hand, by the northern provinces, and from the Spa
niards, on the other, by the southern, at no small expense
t» each, our people have, till lately, slept securely in their
habitations; There is no British Colony excepting this but h&s made
some kind of provision for its defence ; many of thera
have therefore never been attempted by an enemy ; and
others, that ¦ were attacked, have generaUy 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 as, or prevent its sue-.
ceeding. But whatever ^sectirity this might have been while both
country and city were pOor, and the advantage to be ex
pected scarce worth the hazard of an atlerapt, it is now
doubted, whether we can any longer safely depend upon it.
Our wealth, of late years much increased, is one strong
teraptalion, our defenceless slate another, to induce an
eneray lo 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 alraosl every where maintain, and perhaps from
2 A 2

356 PLAIN TRUTH.
traitors among ourselves, with the facihty 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 il 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 lo our case,
and therefore I must beg leave a httle to enlarge upon il)
where we are told, chap, xviii. v. 2, That the Children of''
Dan sent of tlicir 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 vei-y ortho
dox in their religion, and their spies met with a certain
idolatrous priest of their own persuasion, v, 3, and they
said lo hira, Wlio brought thee hither? What makest
thou in this place ? And what hast thou here ? [Would
to God no such priests were to be found araong us.] And
they said unto hira, v. 5. Ask counsel of God, that we may
know, whether our way which we go shall be prosperous :
and the priest said unto them. Go in peace: before the
Lord is your way wherein you go. [Are there no priests
araong us, think you, that might, in the hke case, give an
enemy as good encouragement ? It is well known, that we
have numbers of the sarae religion with those, who of late
encouraged the French to invade our mother-country.J
And they came, verse 7, to Laish, and saw the people
that were therein, how they dwelt CAR-EhEss, after the
manner of the Zidonians, quiet and secure. They
thought themselves secure, no doubt; and as they never
iiad been disturbed, vainly thought they never should. It

PLAIN TRUTH. 357
is not unlikely, that some might see the danger they were
exposed to by living in that careless manner : but that, il
these 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 have 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 things What could they desire raore? 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 600 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 intehigence 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 600 men being arrived, found as the spies had re-^
ported, a people quiet and secuee, verse 20, 21, And
they smote them with the edge of the sword, and burnt the
city with fihe ; and there was no deliveeee, 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 wo
inake a due use of this example, before it be loo late !

358 PLAIN TRUTH,
And is our country, any more than our city, altogether
free from danger ? Perhaps not. We have, it is true,
had a long peace with the Indians : bul it is a long peace,
indeed, as well as a long lane, that has no ending. The
French know the power and importance of the Six 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, and these* have openly espoused
their cause. The rest appear irresolute what part to take ;
no persuasions, though enforced 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 raay 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
uslage, joined with fear 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 lo 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, 969
frontiers will not affect us ; the enemy will never come
near our habitations ; .let those concerned take care of
themselves," And others who hv^ in the country, when
they are told of the danger the city is in, from attempts by
sea, may say, " What is that lo us 1 The enemy will be
satisfied with the plunder of the lown, and never think it
worth his while to visit our plantations : let the lown lake
care of itself," These are not mere suppositions, for I
have heard some talk in this strange manner. But are
these the sentiments of true Pennsylvanians, of fellow-
countryraen, or even of raen, that have coramon sense or
goodness 1 Is not the whole province one body, united
by hving 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 equally dear? Are they not hkewise united in
interest, and mutually useful and necessary lo 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 : bul 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 lime, 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
riefuse to assist each other?
Put whatever different opinions we have of our sccflWly

860 PLAIN TRUTH.
in other respects, our trade, all seem to agree, is in dan
ger of being ruined in another year. The great success of
our enemies, in two different cruises tiiis last summer in
our bay, must give thera the greatest encourageraent to
repeat more frequently their visits, the profit being almost
certain, and the risk next lo 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
thera ? 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. If the
price of the tradesman's work, and the farmer's produce,
would increase equally with the price of foreign commodi-k
ties, the damage would not be so great ; bul the direct
contrary must happen. For the same hazard or rale 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 lo come
i;;, none can afford to trade, and business must be soon at
a stand. And will not the consequences be a discourage
ment of raanyof the vessels that used to come from other
places to purchase our produce, and thereby a turning of
l^he trade lo 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 shopr
keeper, together with multitudes of bad debts, the high
rate pt 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
of many inhabitants, who will retire to other provinces not
subject lo the like inconveniences ; whence a loweruig of
the value of lands, lots, and houses.

PLAIN TRUTH. 861
The enemy, no doubt, have been told, that the 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 raay make il look probable to
sfrangers is, that in fact, notlring is done by any part ofthe
people towards their defence. Bul lo refuse defeiiding
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 thera the greatest en
couragement to strike one bold stroke for the city, and for
the whole plunder ofthe 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 eneray can be supposed, lo take frora us al sea would
amount lo, and that it would be cheaper for the govern
ment to open an insurance-office, and pay all losses. But
is -this right reasoning ? I think not ; fqr 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 coimtry, and circulates among us ;
what is paid to the officers and seamen, that navigate her,
js 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 lo the country but her wear
and tear, or as much as she sells for a.t the end ofthe war
less than her first cost. This loss, and a trifling one it is,
is all the inconvenience; but bow many and how great are
the conveniences and advantages I atid should Ihe enemy,
through our supineness and neglect to provide for the de-

362 PLAIN TRUTH.
fence ooth of our trade and country, be encouraged to at
tempt this city, and after plundering of our goods, either
burn il, or put it to ransom, how great would that loss be!
besides the confusion, terror, and distress, so many hun
dreds of famihes would be involved in !
The thought ofthis latter circumstance so much affectsme,
that I cannot forbear expatiating somewhat raore upon it.
You have, my dear countrymen and fellow-citizens, riches
to tempt a considerable force to unite and attack you, but
are undor no ties or engagements to unite for your de
fence. Hence, on the first alarm, terror will spread over
all : and as no raan can with certainly depend that another
will stand by him, beyond doubt very many will seek safety
by a speedy flight. Those, that are reputed rich, wifl flee,
through fear of torture, lo make thera 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 aud protect them
jn that lirae 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 -una,ble 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 Irpsl to but the enemy's mercy. Your
best fortune will be, lo fall under the power of commanders
of king's ships, able lo conlroul 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, mulatloes, and others, the vilest and most

PLAIN TRUTH. Si33
abandoned of mankind,* A dreadful scene 1 which some
may represent as exaggerated. I think it my duly to warn
you: judge for yourselves.
It is true, with very little notice, the rich raay shift for
themselves. The means of speedy flight are ready in their
hands ; and with sorae previous care to lodge money and
effects in distant and secure places, though they should lose
much, yet enough may be left them, and lo 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 j
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 bear the brunt: the weight of contributions,
extorted by the eneray (as it is of taxes among ourselves)
must be surely borne by us. Nor can il be avoided, as we
stand at present: for though we are numerous, we are
quite defenceless, having neither forts, arras, union, nor
discipline. And though il 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 Spaui«h privateer
that plundered Mr, Listen's, and another plantation, a little
below Newcastie, was composed of such as these, The
lionour and humanity of their officers may be judged of, by
the Ireatraent they gave the poor Captain Brown, whom they
took with Martin's ship in returning from their cruise. Be
cause be 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 rnurdfr him, though on his knees beg
ging quarter .

364 PLAIN TRUTH,
pay that expense? On whom may we fix our eyes, with
the least expectation, that they will do any thing for our
security? Should we address that wealthy and powerful
body of people, who have ever since the war governed our
elections, and filled almost every seat in our assembly ;
should we intreat them to consider, if not as friends, at
least as legislators, that protection is as truly due from the
government to the people, as obedience frora the people to
the government; and that if, on account of their religious
scruples, they themselves could do no act for our defence,
yet they might retire, rehnquish their power for a season,
quit the helm to freer hands during the present tempest,
to hands, chpsep by their own interests loo, whose pru-»
dence and moderation, with regard to- them, they miglit
safely confide in ; secure, frora their own native strength,
of resuming again their present station, whenever it shall
please thera; should we remind thera, that the pubhe
money, raised from all belongs to all; that since they
have, for their own ease, and lo secure themselves in Ihe
quiet enjoyment of their religious principles (and may they
long enjoy thera) expended such large sums lo oppose pe
titions, and engage favourable representations of their con
duct, if they themselves could by no means be free to ap-
. prupriate any part ofthe public money for our defence;
yet it would be no raore than justice, to spare us a rea
sonable sura for that purpose, which theyraight easily give
to the king's use as heretofore, leaving all the appropria
tion lb others, who would faithfully apply il 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 vole of the assembly r that though they
themselves may be resigned and easy under this naked,
defenceless slate of the country, it is far otherwise with a
very great part of the people ; with us, who can have no

PLAIN TRUTH. 363
confidence that God will protect those that neglect the use
of rational means for their security ; nor have any reason
to hope, that our losses, if we should suffer any, may be
raade up by collections in our favour al home. Should we
conjure them by all the ties of neighbourhood, friendship,
justice, and humanity, to consider these things ; and what
distraction, misery, and confusion, what desolation and
distress may possibly be the effect of their unseasonable
predominancy and perseverance : yet all would be in vain ;
for they have already been, by great numbers of the people,
petitioned in vain. Our late governor did for years so
licit, request, and even threaten them in vain. The coun
cil have since twice reraonstraled to thera 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 raifing al Quakers for
doing what their principles seem to require, and what in
charity we ought to beheve 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 exaraple, raise
a military spirit among us, raake us fond, studious of, and
experi in, martial discipline, and effect every thing that is
necessary, under God, for our protection, Bul efivy seems
to have taken possession of their hearts, and to have eaten
out and destroyed every generous, noble, public-spirited
sentiment. Rage, at the disappointment of their little
schemes for power, gnaws their souls, and fills them with
$Uch 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,"

^G PLAIN TtlUTH.
say they, " shall we lay out our money to protect ibf}
trade of Quakers? Shall we fight to defend Quakers?
No ; let the trade perish, and the city burn ; let what will
happen, we shall never lift a finger lo prevent |it. Yet
the Quakers have conscience to plead for their resolution
not to fight, which these gentlemen have not. Conscience
with you, gentiemen, is on the other side of the question ;
conscience enjoins it as a ditty 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 lo their's. Till of late, I could scarce believe the
story of hira, who refused to pump in a sinking ship, be
eause one on board, whom he hated, would be saved by
il as well as himself. But such, it seems, is the unhappi-
ness of human nature, that our passions, when violent, of
ten are too hard for the united force of reason, duty, and
rehgion. Thus unfol-tunately are we circumstanced al this time,
my dear countrymen' and fellow-citizens ; we, I mean the
middling people, the farmers, shop-keepers, and tradesmen
ofthis city and country. Through the dissensions of our
leaders, through mistaken principles of rehgion, joined
with a love of worldly power, on the one hand ; through
pride, envy, and implacable resentment on the otiier; our
lives, our families, and httle fortunes, dear lo us as any
great man's can be to him, are to remain continually ex
posed lo destruction, frora 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. 36?
und, 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
are far from Zidon, and there is no deliverer near. Our
ease is dangerously bad ; bul perhaps tl»ere 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, raany of them hunters and marksmen, hardy and
bold. All we want is order, discipline, and a few cannon.
At present we are like the separate filaments of flax before
the thread is formed, without strength, because without
connection: but union would raake 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 nomini Romano, ad bellum ai^
eessunt. Cat. in Salust.

368 PLAIN TRUTH.
join us ; though they should even oppose our uniting^froTS
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. Gieat 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 lo a foreign
clime, yet with the people il is not so j our neighbours of
New England afford the world a convincing proof, that
Bi-itons, though u hundred years transplanted, and to the
reraotesl part of the earth, raay yet retain, even to the
third and fourth descent, thai 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
hberties, 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 lime of Csesar
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. 369
priety, humbly ask the assistance of HeaveU, 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 lo
secure peace is to be prepared for war. They that are on
their guard, and appear ready lo receive their adversaries,
are in much less danger of being attacked, than the su
pine, secure, and neghgent. We have yet a winter before
us, which may afford a good and almost sufficient opportu
nity for this, if we seize and improve il with a becoming
vigour. And if the hints contained in this paper Eire so
happy as to meet with a suitable disposition of mind in his
countrymen and feUow-cilizens, the writer of it will, in a
few days, lay before thera a forra 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 Goi of wisdom, strength, and power, the Lord
of the armies of Israel, inspire us with prudence in this
time of danger, take awayfiom us all the seeds of contention
and division, and unite the hearts and counsels of all of us,
of whatever sect or nation, in one bond of peace, brotherly
love, and generous public spirit ! May he give us strength
and resolution to amend our lives, and remove from among
us every thing that is displeasing to him ; afford us his
most gracious protection, confound the designs of our
enemies, and give peace in all our borders, is the sincere
prayer of
1744. A TRADESMAN of Philadelphia.

2e

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 lo their profits ; an excise on all wine,
rum, and other spirits ; and a duly of ten pounds per head
on all negroes imported, with some other duties.
Q. For what purposes are theses taxes laid ?
A. For the support of the civil and military estabhsh-^
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 lili
1772, and longer, if the debt should not be then all dis
charged. The others must always continue.
Q. Was it not expected that the debt would have been
sooner discharged I
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. Thefronlier counties, all along the continent,
having been frequently ravaged by the enemy and greatly

i:XAMINATlON OF DR. FRANKLIN. 37l
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 sufferers;
and I suppose the same is done in other governments.
Q. Are not you concerned in the management of the
Post-office in America?
A. Yes. I am deputy post-master general of North
America. Q^ Don't you think the distribution of stamps by post.
to all the inhabitants very practicable, if there was no op"-
position ?
A. 'The posts only go along the sea-coasts ; they do not,-
except in a few instances, go back into tiie 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 al all, bul that
the coraraunication between one sfettlemenl 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 inbaoitants 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 starap act be extremely inconvenient to the inha
bitants, if executed ?
A. To be sure it would : as many of the inhabitants
could not gel stamps when they had occasion for them,
2 b 2

372 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
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 il will be spent in the conquered colonies,
where the soldiers are ; not in the colonies that pay il.
Q. Is there not a balance of trade due from the colonies
where the troops are posted, that wiU bring back the money
to the old colonies ?
A. I think not, I believe very littie would come back,
I know pf no trade hkely lo bring il back, I think it
would come frora jlhe colonies where it was spent, directly
to England ; for I have always observed, that in every co
lony the more plenty the raeans of remittance to England,
the more goods are sent for, and the more ti-ade 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 tiie House of Conitnon.s, that the
American Stamp Act would produce 100,000l, sterling per
- annum to the j-eveune. F.ditor.

EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 373
Q. Have any number of the Germans seen service, as
soldiers, in Europe ?
A. Yes, many of them, both in Europe and America.
Q. Are they as much dissatisfied with the stamp duly as
the Enghsh?
A. Yes, and more ; and with reason, as their stamps are,
in many cases, lo be double.
Q. How many white men do you suppose there are in
North America ?
A. About three hundred thousand, frora 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 frora Britain to be above 500,0001.
Q. What may be the amount of the produce of your
province exported lo Britain?
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 ?
A. The balance is paid by our produce carried lo the
West Indies (and sold in our own islands, or to the French,
Spaniards, Danes, and Dutch) — by the same [produce]
carried to other colonies in North America (as to New
England, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Carolina, and
Georgia) — by the same, carried to difter-enl 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 manufactures continu
ally used in the province, or sold to foreigners by our
t>raders.

374 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
Q. Have you heard of any difficulties lately laid on the
-Spanish trade ?
A. Yes, I have heard that it has been greatly obstructed
by some new regulations, and by the Enghsh 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 colonics raised, clothed,
and paid, during the last war, near fwenty-five thousand
men, and spent many milhons.
Q. Were you not reimbursed by parliament?
A- We were only reimbursed what, in your opinion, we
bad advanced beyond our proportion, or beyond what
might reasonably be expected from us ; and it was a very
small part of what we spent, Penn.sylvania, 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 lax on the profits
of trades and professions, with other taxes, do, I suppose,
make full half-a-crown in the pound,
Q. Do you know any thing of the rate of exchange in
Pennsylvania, and whether it has fallen lately?
A. Itis commonly from one hundred and seventy to one
hundred and seventy-five. I have heard IhaLit 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 upt the taxes in Pennsylvania laid on unequally^

EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN, 375
in order to burden the Enghsh trade : particularly the tax
®n professions and business ?
A. It is not more burdensome, in proportion, than the
tax on lands. It is intended, and supposed to lake, 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-
itificers. Q. Are not the majority landholders?
, A. I beheve they are,
Q, Do not they, as much as possible, shift the tax off
frora 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 atterapt 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 his trade, he puts an addi
tional price on his goods ; and the consumers, who are
chiefly lapdholders, 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. They submitted willingly lo
the government of the crown, and paid, in their courts,
obedience tp acts of parliament. Numerous as the people
are in the several old provinces, they cost you nothing in
forts, citadels, garrisons, or armies, to keep them in sub
jection. They were governed by this country at the ex
pense only pf a little pen, ink, and paper : they were led by
a thread. They had not only a respect, but an affection
fpjf Great Britain : for its laws, its customs, and manners,
and even a fondness for its fashions, that greatly increased
^he commerce. Natives of Britain were always treated

376 EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN.
witii 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 parhament was allowed to be valid
in all laws, except such as should lay internal taxes. It
was never disputed in laying duties to regulate commerce,
Q. In what proportion hath population increased in
America ?
A. I think the inhabitants of all the provinces together,
taken al a mediura, 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 lo pay for them. In 1 723, 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 parhament of Greal Britain ?
A. They considered the parhament 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, al limes, at
tempt to oppress them ; but tiiey 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 parlia-
Bgient?
~ A. No, it is greatiy lessened.

EXAMINATION OF DB. 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 araong themselves, and then
demanding a new and heavy lax 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 sorae particulars, of sraall moment ?
A. No, they will never submit to il.
Q. What do you think is the reason that the people in
America increase faster than in England ?
A. Because they marry younger, and more generally.
Q. Why so ?
A. Because any young couple, that are industrious, inay
easily obtain land of their own, on which they can raise a
family. ¦ Q. A*e notthelo-wer rank of people more at their ease
in Atnerica than in England ?
A. They raay be so, if they are sober and diligent; as they
are belter paid for their labour.
Q. What is your opinion of a future tax, iraposed on the
isame principle with that of the stamp act ? how would the
Americans receive il .?
A. Just as they do this. They would not pay it,
Q. Have not you heard of the resolution of this house
and ofthe house of lords, asserting the right of parliament
relating to America, including a power to tax the people
there? '''''
A. Yes, I have heard of such resolutions,
Q, What will be the opinion of the Araericans on those
resolutions ?
A. They will Ihmk them unconstitutional and Unjust.

378 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
Q, Was it an opinion in Araerica before 1763, that the
parhament had no right to lay taxes and -luties 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 parhament, 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
coramerce, was never disputed,
Q, But can you narae any act of assembly, or public act
of any of your governments, that made such distraction i
A. I do not know that there was any. I think there was
never an occasion to make any such act, tfll now that you
have attempted to lax us: thathas occasioned resolutions
of assembly, declariug the distinction, in wbiph I think every
assembly, on the continent, and every member in every as-?
sembly, have been unanimous,
Q. What then could occasipn 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 parhamen^
neither would nor could lay any tax on us, till we were dyly

EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN. 970
represented in parharaenl; because it was not just, nor
agreeable to the nature of an English constitution,
Q, Don't you know there was a time in New York, when
it was under consideration to make an application to 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 I
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 lax in America was only
local, and confined to the case of a deficiency in a particu*-
Jar colony, by a refusal of its assembly to raise the neces
sary supplies ?
Ai They could not suppose such a case, as that the as
sembly would not raise the necessary supplies to support
its own governraent. An asserably that would refuse it
must want coraraon sense; which cannot be supposed. I
think there was never any such case al New York, and that
it rausl be a misrepresentation, or the fact must be raisun-
derstood. I know there have been sorae alterapts, by nii-
nislerial instructions from hence, to oblige the asserablies
to settle perraanenl salaries on governors, which they wisely
refused to do; bul 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 ins>truction, should
call on an assembly lo raise the necessary supplies, and
the assembly should refuse to do it, do you think il would
then be for the good of the people ofthe colony, as well as
necessary to government, that the pafhament 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 sop-

380 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
phes 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 lo reason.
Q, If it should not, ought not the right lo be in Great
Britain of applying a remedy i*
A. A right, only lo be used in such a case, I should have
no objection to : supposing il to be used merely for the good
of the people of the colony.
Q. But who is to judge of that, Britain or the
colony ?
A. Those that feel can best judge,
Q. You say the colonies have always submitted to 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 lo the first cost and other charges on the commodity,
and, when it is offered lo sale, makes a part of the prioe.
If the people do not like it at that price, they refuse it ;
they are not obhged to pay il. But an internal lax 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 il is intended to extort our
money from us, or ruin us by the consequences of refusing
to pay it.
Q. But supposing the external tax or duty to be laid oil
the necessaries of hfe imported into your colony, will not
that be the same thing in ils effects as an internal tax .^
A. I do not know a single article imported into the

EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN. 381
northern colonies, but what they can either do without, or
make themselves,
Q. Don't you think cloth from England absolutely
necessary to them ?
A. No, by no means absolutely necessary ; with industry
and good management, they may very well supply them
selves with all they want,
Q. Will it not take a long tirae lo 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
quantily of wool. And the establishing of great manufac
tories, like those in the clothing towns here, is not neces
sary, as it is where the business is lo 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 lo 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, aiid only a kind of hah-?
A. I don't know it, 1 never heard yet. Yet I 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, PRANKLIN.
though I cannot speak positively of it: but Virgmia, 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 hnen 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 lo do it, some part of the winter,
Q. Considering the resolutions of parharaenl, as to th6
right ; do you think, if the stamp act is repealed, that the
North Americans will be satisfied ?
A. I believ? 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,
'they know you claim the same right with regard to Ireland,
but you never exercise it. And they may believe you never
will exercise il in the colonies, any more than in Ireland,
unless on some very extraordinary occasion.
Q. Bul who are lo be the judges of that extraordinary
occasion? Is not the parliament?
A. Though the parliament may judge of the occasion,
the people will think il can never exercise such right, till
representatives frora 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. Mar}'land 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. SSS
¦year during the, war,, voted considerable sums, and formed
bills lo raise them. The bills were, according lo the con
stitution of that province, sent up to the council, or upper
house, for concurrence, that they might be presented to
the governor, in ordet- lo be enacted into laws. Unhappy
disputes between the two houses — arising frora the defects
of that constitution principally — rendered all the bills but
one or two abortive. The proprietary's council rejected
them, Il is true, Maryland did not contribute its propor
tion; but it was, in ray 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 parharaenl lo compel them ?
A. I have heard such discourse; bul 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 remeraber the abolishing of the paper-cur
rency in New England, by act of assembly ?
A. I do remeraber ils being abolished in the Mas-
sachusetl's bay,
Q. Was 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 littie about it, as
I hved at a distance from that province,
Q. Was not the scarcity of gold and silver an argument
used against abolishing the paper?
^, I suppose it was,
Q. What is the present opinion there of that law ? Is
il as unpopular as il was at first?
A. I think it is not,
Q, Have not instructions from hence been some-

384 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
times sent over to governors, highly oppressive and un
political ?
A. Yes,
Q. Have not some governors dispensed with thera for
that reason ? ,
A. Yes, I have heard so,
Q. Did the Americans ever dispute the controlling power
of parhament to regulate the commerce ?
A. No,
Q. Can any thing less than a military force carry the
stamp act into execution ?
A. I do not see how a mihtary force can be applied to
that purpose,
Q. Why may it not?
A. Suppose a military force sent into America, they will
find nobody in arms : what are they then to do ? They
cannot force a man lo lake stamps who chooses to do with
out thera. They will not find a rebellion : they raay indeed
make one.
Q, If the act is not repealed, what do you think will be
the consequences?
A. A total loss of the respect and affection the people of
America bear to this country, and of all the commerce that
depends on that respect and affection,
Q. How can the commerce be affected?
A. You will find, that if the act is not repealed, they
will take very littie of your manufactures in a short tirae.
Q. Is it in their power lo 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 littie industry they can make al home ;
the second they can do without, till they arc able lo pro
vide them among themselves; and the last, which are

feXAMTNATlON OF DR. FRANKLIN. 385
much the greatest part, they will strike off immei'iately.
They are mere articles of fashion, purchased and coti-
sumed because the fashion in a respected coontrj ; but will
now be detested and rejected. The people have already
strut k off', by general agreement, the use of all goods fa
shionable in mournings, and many thousands pounds Worth'
are sent back as unsaleable.
Q. Is it their interest lo make cloth at home ?
• A, i think they may al present get it cheaper frora Bri
tain, I raean ofthe same fineness and neatness of workman
ship ; but when one considers other circuinstanees, the re
straints on their trade, and the difficulty of making remit
tances, il is their interest to raake every thing.
Q. Supposeanactof internal regulations connected witb
a tax, how would they receive il?
A. I think il would be objected to,
Q. Then no regulation with a tax would be submitted
to? A. Their opinion is, that when aids lo the crown are
wanted, they are lo be asked of the several assemblies, ac
cording to the old established usage ; who will, as they al
ways have done, grant them freely. Arid that their money
ought not lo be given away, without their consent, by per
sons al a distance^ unacquainted with their circumstances
and abilities; The granting aids to the croWn is the only
raeans they have of recommending theraselves to theii'
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 itseU' 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, Bul is ilot the pOst-office; which they have long re-
iceived, a lax as well as a regulation ?
A. No ; Uie 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 ?
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 witii 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, whora they have uot empowered
for that purpose.
Q. You say, they do not object lo the right of parlia
ment, in laying duties on goods lo 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 reasens
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 tiierefore a natural
and equitable right lo sorae 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 duly?
A. If il tended lo make the produce so rauch dearer
abroad, as to lessen the demand for it, to be sure they
would object to such a duty ; uot to your right of laying
it, but they would complain of it as a burden, and petition
you to hghten it,
Q. Is not the duty paid on the tobacco exported, a duly
of that kmd ?
A. That, I think, is only on tobacco carried coastwise,
from one colony lo another, and appropriated as a fund for
supporting the college al 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 tiieir sugars ex
ported ?
A. I am not much acquainted with the West Indies;
bul the duty of fuur 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 oi all the taxes in Penn
sylvania? A. 1 suppose about 20,0001. steihng.
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 lUeir
pride. 2 c 2

S8S EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
Q. Would the people at Boston discontinue their
trade ?
A. Tlje merehants are a very small number compared
with the body of the people, and must discontinue their
trade, if nobody will buy their goods.
Q. Wlial 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 mig^t have thera ?
A. I think the supposition impracticable, that the
stamps should be so protected as that every one might
have them. The act requires sub-distributors to be ap
pointed in every county lown, district, and village, and
they would be necessary. Bul the principal distributors,
who were to have had a considerable profit on the whole,
have not thought il 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. Il is hard to say what they would do. I can only
judge what other people will think, and how they will act,
by what 1 feel within myself. I have a greal 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 iu every part of
America .''
A. A very great force, I can't say what, if the disposi
tion of Araerica is for a general resistance.
Q. What is the number of men in Araerica 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 rausl arise frora law
suits for the recovery of debts, and be paid by the Ibwer
sort of people, who were loo poor easily lo 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 raeans of
' lessening the number of law-suits?
A. I think not; fbr as the costs all fall upon the debtor,
and are to be paid by him, they would be no discouragement
to the creditor lo bring his action.
Q. Would il not have the effect of excessive usury ?
A. Yes, as an oppression of the debtor.
Q. How many ships are there laden annually in North
America with flax-seed for Ireland ?
A. I cannot speak to the number of ships, but I know
that in 1752 ten thousand hogsheads of flax-seed, eaqh

390 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
containing seven bushels, were exported from Philadelphis
to Ireland. I suppose the quantily 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. A.re there any slitting-mills in Ameripa?
A. 1 think there are three, bul 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 ?
A. A great many.
Q. Did you never hear, that a greal quantity ot 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 obhge the parliament to repeal
every externa' tax-law now in force?
A. It is hard to answer questions of what people al such
a distance will think,
Q. But what do you imagine they wiU think were the '
motives of repealing the act?
A. I suppose they will think, that il was repealed from a
conviction of its inexpediency ; and they will rely Upon it,
that while the same inexpediency subsists, you will never
attempt lo make such another.
iQ. What do you mean by its inexpediency? "'-^'=
A. I mean its inexpediency on several accounts, the po
verty and inabihty of those who were to pay the tax, the
general discontent it has occasioned, and the impractica-
bilit} of enforcing it.
Q, If the act should be repealed, and the legislature

EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 3Pl
¦should show its resentment to the opposers of the stamp
act, would the colonies acquiesce in the authority of the
Jegislaturo ? What is your opinion they would do ?
A. I don't doubt al 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 to6 much together. The proceedings ofthe 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 lo 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 tlis 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 theraselves, 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
on a sort of promise, from the secretary of slate, that it

302 EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN.
should be recommended to parliament to make them com
pensation. It was accordingly recoraraended to parlia
ment, in the most honourable manner for them. America
has 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 lo bear any part of
that expense. The colonies raised, paid, and clothed, near
fwenty-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 lo
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 thera 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, lo 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 f for if they had done less, or had only
equalled their proportion, th^re would have been no room
pr reason for compensation, liideed, the sums rcimbuiacd
them were by no means adequate to the expense they in
curred beyond their proportion: but they never murmured
at that; they e.steemed their sovereign's approbation of
their zeal and fidelity, and the approbation of this house,
fax beyond any other kind of compensation, therefore there

EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 383
was no occasion fortius act, to force money from a wilhng
people ; they had not refused giving money for the pur-
poses ofthe act, no requisition had. been made, they were
always wiUing and ready to do what could reasonably b®
expected from them, and in this hght they wish to be con
sidered. Q. Bul suppose Greaf Britain should be engaged in a
war in Europe, would North America contribute to the
support of it I
A. I do think they would, as far as their circumstances
would permit. Tliey consider themselves as a part ofthe
British empire, and as having one common interest witti
il: they may be looked on here as foreigners, but tiiey do
not consider themselves as such. They are zealous for the
honour and prosperity of this nation; and, while they are
weU used, will always be ready to support il, 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 thera. I know th^
last war is commonly spoken of here as entered into for
the defence, or for the sake of the people in America. I
think it is quite misunderstood. Il 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 lo any colonist, we had therefore no particular
concern or interest in that dispute. — As lo 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; tliey took a
fort which a company of your merchants and tlicir lactoiij

394 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 encroachraent
on the king's territory) and to protect your trade. Il 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 frade 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 comraerce with
the Indians. The Indian trade is a British interest ; it is
carried on with British manufactures, for the profit of
British raerchants and manufactures ; therefore the war, as
it commenced for the defence of territories ofthe 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 ofthe
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
t-here with British manufactures.
Q. Was not the late war with the Indians, since the
peace with France, a war for America only ?
A. Yes; it was more particularly for America than the
former; but il was rather a consequence or remains ofthe

EXAMINATION OF DR. FRANKLIN. 393
former war, tl:(- Indians not having been thoroughly paci-
fieo ; and tin- Americans bore by much the greatest share
ofthe expense. Il 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-
iiians. Q. Is it not necessary to send troops to America, to
defend the Americans against the Indians?
A. No, by no means : il never was necessary. They
defended themselves when they wen- 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 tiiouglit necessary now to send
troops for their defence tio'm those diminished Indian tribes,
when the colonies are become so populous, and so strong?
There is not the least occasion fbr it, they are very able to
defend themselves.
Q. Do you say there were no more than three hundred
regular troops employed in the late Indian war I
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; 1 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 lo levy mo
ney on tli£ subject there, to graiit 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 b«
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 levy
money for the crown, or for any other than local purposes ?
A. They understand that clause to relate to subjects only
within the realra ; that no money can be levied on thera 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 parhaments; and they
are, in that respect, in the same situation with Ireland.
When money is to be raised for the crown upon the sub
ject in Ireland, or in the colonies, consent is given iu the
parhament of Ireland, or in the asserablies of the colonies.
They think the parharaenl of Great Britain cannot properly
give that consent, till it has representatives from America ;
for the petition of right expressly says, it is lo be by common
consent in parliament ; and the people of America have no
representatives in parliament to make a part of Ihat com
mon consent.
Q. If the stamp act should be repealed, and an act
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 kirig,
without the consent ofthe parliament of Great Britain?
A. That is a deep question. As lo my own opinion, I
should think myself at hberty to do it, and should do it, if
I hked 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
sembhes to make compensation to the sufferers, and they

EXAMINATION OF DR, ERANKLIN, 397
should disobey it, and then the parhament should by another
act lay au internal tax, would they then obey it?
A. The people wiU pay no internal tax ; and 1 think an
act to oblige the assemblies to make compensation is unne-^
cessary ; for I am of opinion, that as soon as the present
heats are abated, they -will take the matter into considera
tion, and if It is right lo be done, they will do it of thera
selves, Q. Do not letters often come into the post-offices in
America directed lo some inland lown 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. Bul must not he pay an additional postage for Ih©
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 hves in a place to
which the post generally goes, and the letter is directed to
that place, will the post-master deliver hira the letter, with
out his paying the postage receivable al 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 off
parliaraent, to carry over the posts without pay?
A. Yes,
Q, Is not this a lax on the ferrymen?

398 EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN.
A. They do 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 raake a requisition lo 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 lo 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 frora the secretary of slate.
Q. Is this all you mean ; a letter from the secretary of
srtate? 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 il to the colonies
to grant such aids as become their loyalty, and were suit
able to their abilities.
Q. Did the secretary of stale ever write for money for
the cVown?
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 niy 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 asserably of Pennsylvania rescind their resolutions?
A. I think not.
Q. Before there was any thought of the stamp act, did
they wish fbr a representation in parliaraent?
A. No.
Q. Don't you know that there is, in the Pennsylvanian
charter, an express reservation of the right of parharaenl
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 asserably, or by act of
parliament. Q. How then could the assembly of Pennsylvania assert,
that laying a tax on them by the starap act was an infringe
ment of their rights ?
A. They understand it thus: by the same charter, and
otherwise, they are intitled lo all the privileges and liber-
lies 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 lo be taxed bulby
their common consent; they have therefore relied upon it,
from the first settlpment ofthe province, that the parliament
never would, nor could, by colour of that clause in the
charier, assume a right of taxing them, till it had qualified
itself lo 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 tiiat justify that
Gonstruclion ?
A. The common rights of Englishmen, as declared by
Magna Charta, and the petition of right, al! justify it.

400 EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN,
Q, Does the distrnction between interaail 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 lo 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 raake any
other law to bind them. At present they do not reason so ;
but in lime 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 raean customs ; these are their ideas ofthe language,
Q. Have you not seen the resolutions of the Massa-
chusell's bay assembly ?
A. 1 have,
^, Do they not say, that neither external nor intemal
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 parharaenl 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, an-

EXAMINATION OF DR, FRANKLIN, 401
the like ; there may be greal impositions that are not pro
perly taxes,
Q, Is not the post-office rate an internal tax lam 6y act
of parhament? A. 1 have answered that.
Q. Are all parts of the colonies equally able to pay
taxe^ ?
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. Canwe, at this distance, becompetenl judges of what
favours are necessary?
A. The parhament have supposed it, by claiming a right
to make lax laws for Araerica ; I think it irapossible,
Q, Would the repeal of the stamp act be aiiy discou
ragement of your raanufactures? Will the people that-
have begun lo manufacture decline it?
A. Yes, I think they will; especially if, at the same
lime, the trade is opened again, so that remittances can be
easily made, I have known several instances that raake it
probable. In the war before last, tobacco being low, and
making little remittance, the people of Virginia went ge
nerally into faraily manufactures. Afterwards, when to
bacco bore a better price, they returned to the use of British
manufactures. So fuUing-raills were very much disused in
the last war iu Pennsylvania, because bills were then plenty,
and remittances could easily be made to Britain for Enghsh
cloth and other goods.
Q. If the stamp act should be repealed, would il induce
the asserablies of America to acknowledge the rights of
pariiament to tax them, and would they erase their resolu
tions ?
A. No, never.
2 »

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 thera ?
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 ?
A. Not as a tax, but as a regulation and conveniency;
every assembly encouraged it, and supported it in ils in
fancy, by grants of money, which they would not otherwise
have done ; and the people have always paid the postage.
Q. W^hen did you receive the instructions you men
tioned ?
A. I brought them with me, when I came lo England,
about fifteen mouths since,
Q. When did you comraunicate 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 ones. Withdrew.

ATTEMPTS OF DR. FRANKLIN. 403

Attempts of Dr. Franklin for Conciliation of Great Bri
tain with the Colonies.

Dear Sik, London, Nov. 28, 1768.
I received your obhging favour of the 12th instant.
Your sentiments of the importance of the present dispute
between Great Britain and the colonies, appear lo me ex
tremely just. There is nothing I wish for more than to see
it amicably and equitably settled.
But Providence wifl bring about its own ends by its own
means ; and if it intends the downfall of a nation, that na
tion will be so Winded 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 impartiahty ; in IJngland,
of being loo much an American, and in America of being
too much an Enghshman, Your opinion, however, weighs
with me, and encourages me to try one effort more, in a
full, though concise stale of f&cts, accompanied with argu
ments drawn frora those facts ; lo be published about th»
meeting of parhament, after the hohdays.
If any good raay be done I shall rejoice ; but at present
I almost despair.
Have you ever seen the barometer so low as of late^
2 B 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 20th, 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 Araerica, and the necessity of prevent
ing her trade from passing into foreign channels, must keep
us still a divided people, I shall, frora^ every private as well
as pubhc motive, most heartily lament, that this is not the
moment wherein those great objecls of my ambitition are to
be attained ; and that I am lo be longer deprived of an op
portunity to assure you personally ofthe regard with which,
I am your sincere and faithful humble servant,
Howe,
P, S. I was disappointed ofthe opportunity I expected
for sending this letter, at the lime it was dated ; and have
ever since been prevented by calms and contrary winds

DR. 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 Loeu, Philadelphia, July 30, 1776.
I received safe the letters your lordship so kindly for
warded to rae, and beg you lo accept my thanks
The official dispatches lo which you refer rae, 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 lo the colonies, who are
the very parties injured, expresses indeed that opinion of
our ignorance, baseness, and insensibihty, 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 irapossible 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 lo massacre our
[peaceful] farraers, and our slaves lo raurder their masters ;
and is even now* briDging 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 us io
forget and forgive them, it is not possible for^ow(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 ot their subj«;cts for British gold. Editor.

406 DRFRANKLIN'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 thera 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, lo 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 estabhshment 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 lo say, though
without authority, that 1 think a treaty for that purpose not
quite impracticable, before we enter into foreign alhances.
Bul 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 comm.erce, with all the ad
vantages of that additional strength, to be derived frora 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 onej:
and her thirst for a gainful monopoly as a commercial one
(none of them legitimate causes of war) v^ill join lo 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 lo most of the nations of Europe,
I have not the vanity, my lord, lo 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 beheved till the event shaU verify it.
Long did I endeavour; with unfeigned and unwearied
zeal, lo preserve from breaking that fine and noble porce-
laine vase— the British empire ; for I knew that being once
broken, the separate parts could not retain even their sAarc
of the strength and value that existed in the whole; and
that a perfect re-union of those parts could scarce ever be
hoped for. Your lordship may possibly remember the
tears of joy that welted my cheek, when, at your good sis
ter's in London, you once gave me expectations, that a re-
concihalion might soon take place, I had the misfortune
to find these expectations disappointed, and to be treated
as the cause of the mischief I was labouring to prevent.
My consolation under that groundless and malevolent
treatment was, that I retained the friendship of many wise
and good men in that couhtry ; and among the rest, some
share in the regard of Lord Howe.
* The well-founded esteem, and permit me to«ay affec
tion, which I shall always have for your lordship, make it
painful lo me lo see you engaged in conducting a war, the
great ground of which (as described in your letter) is " the
necessity of preventing the American ^racfe from passing
into foreign channels." To me it seems, that neither the
obtaining or retaining any trade, hpw valuable soever, is
an object for which men raay justly .spill each other's blood;
that the true and sure means of extending and securing
comraerce are the goodness and cheapness of commodi
ties; and that the profits of no trade can ever be equal
lo 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 lo infamy those
who advised it ; and that eyen success will not save from

408 RtLES 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 hope
of being instrumental in a reconciliation ; and I believe,
when you find that fo be impossible, on any terms given
you to propose, you will then rehnquish so odious a com
mand, and return lo a more honourable private station.
With the greatest and most sincere respect, I have the
honour to be, my lord.
Your lordship's most obedient, humble servant,
B. FRANKLIN.

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 lo raake a greal city of a
little one. The science, that 1, 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 lo govern, because the mul
tiplicity of their affairs leaves no time for fiddling.
I. In the first place, gentlemen, you are lo consider, that
a great empire, hke a greal cake, is most easily diminished
at the edges. Turn your attention, therefore, first to your
remotest provinces ; that, as you gel 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
tnat they are governed by severer laws, all of your enact-

A GREAT EMPIRE, 409
ing, without allowing thera 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 ; v/ho, to facilitate a divi
sion, cuts his dough half through in those places, where,
when baked, he would have il broken to pieces,
III. Those remote provinces have perhaps been ac
quired, purchased, or conquered, al the sole expense ofthe
settlers or their ancestors, without the aid of the mother-
- country. If this should happen lo 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 raay probably suppose some raeril in this,
and that it entitles them to sorae 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 la their
prejudioe, and contrive lo punish it: for such principles,
after a revolution is thoroughly established, are of no more
use ; they are even odious and aborainable,
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 thera always inclined to revolt, and treat thera ac
cordingly. Quarter troops araong them, who, by their in
solence, raay provoke the rising of mobs, and by their
bullets and bayonets suppress them. By this raeans, like
the husband who uses his wife ill ffom 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 tbem wise and good men for governors, who
study the i 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 lo be careful who
you recoraraend for those offices. If you can find prodi
gals, who have ruined their fortunes, broken garaesters or
stock-jobbers, these raay do well as governors, for they will
probably be rapacious, and provoke the people by their
extortions. Wrangling proctors and peltyfogging law
yers too are not amiss, for they will be for ever disputing
and quarrelling with their little parhaments. If withal
they should be ignorant, wrong-headed, 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 tiiose ideas of your government, that are proper for a
people you would viish to renounce it
VI. To confirm these impressions, and strike them
deeper, whenever the injured come to the capital with com
plaints of mal-administration, oppression, or injustice, pw-
nish such suitors with long delay, enormous expense, and
a final judgn^ent in favour ofthe oppressor. This will have
an admirable efffecl every way. The trouble of future
complaints will be prevented, and governors and judgej^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 gpvernors have crammed their coffers,
and made theraselves so odious to the people, that they can
no longer reraain araong thera with safety to their persons,
recal and reward them wjth pensions. You may make them

A GREAT EMPIRE, 411
baronets too, if that respectable order should not think fit
to resent il. All will contribute to encourage new gover
nors in the same practice, and make the suprerae govern
ment detestable,
VTll, 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 lo harass them with
novel taxes. They will probably complain lo your parlia
ment, that they are taxed by a body in which they have no
representative, and that this is contrary to common right.
They will petition for redress. Let the parliament flout
their claims, reject their petitions, refuse even to suffer the
reading of them, and treat the petitioners with the utmost
conterapt. Nothing can have a belter effect in producing
the ahenation proposed ; fpr 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
coi^tant 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 ofthis trade gives
your exacting raerchants. 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
ment and support of thousands of your poor b/the co.o-
nists, you are entirely to forget. But remember lo make
your arbitrary tax more grievous to your provinces, by pub
hc declarations, importing, that your power of taxing them
has no limits, so that when you take frora thera 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
theraselves, and say, " though we have no propert}', wo
have yet something left that is valuable, we have cono-atu-
tional liberty, both of person and of conscience. This king,
these lords, and these commons, who it seems are too re
mote from us lo 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, and
compel us to be Papists, if they please, or Mahometans,'''
To annihilate this comfort, begin by laws lo perplex their
commerce with infinite regulations, impossible lo 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 lo arise out of the cuties 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 sorae
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, lo be tried in the same manner
for felony. Then erect a new court of inquisition among
them, accompanied by an armed force, with instructions to
transport all such suspected persons, to be ruined by the
expense, if they bring over 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 raake statutes of suffi
cient force and validity, to bind the unrepresented pro
vinces en 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 hke that spoken of in
the Scriptures, which can not only kiU their bodies, but
damn their souls to all eternity, by compelhng them, if it
pleases, lo worship the devil,
XI, To make your taxes more odious, and more hkely
to procure resislaAce, send from the capital a board oJ
officers to superintend the collection, composed ofthe most
indiscreet, ill-bred, and insolent you can find. Let these
have large salaries out of the extorted revenue, and hve in
open grating luxury upon the sweat and blood of the in^
^ dustrious, whora they are to worry continually with ground
less and expensive prosecutions, before the above-men
tioned and arbitrary revenue-judges ; all at the cost ofthe
party prosecuted, though acquitted, because the king is to
pay no costs. Let these men, by your order, be exempted
from all the coramon taxes and burdens of the province,
though they and their properly 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
sfficers behave so as lo provoke the people to drub them.

414 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
work towards the end you aim at.
XII. Another way to make your lax odious, is, to mis
apply the produce of it. It it was originally appropriated
fbr the defence ofthe provinces, and the belter 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 lo every governor, who has distinguished
himself by his enmity lo 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 lo 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 lo apprehend, that such governors and
judges may be thereby influenced to treat the people kindly,
and to do them justice. This is another reason fbr apply
ing part of that revenue in larger salaries to such gover
nors and judges, given, as their coramissions are, during
your pleasure only, forbidding thera to take any salaries
from their provinces ; that thus the people may no longer
hope any kin(|ness from their governors, or (in crown cases)
any justice frora their judges. And as the raoncy, thus
misapplied in one province, is extorted frora all, probably
all will resent the raisapplication.
XIV. If the parhaments of your provinces should dare
to claira rights, or complain of your administration, order
them lo be harassed with repeated dissolutions. If the
same raen are continually returned by new elections, ad
journ their meetings to some country village, where they

A GREAT EMPIRE. 4I&
cannot be accommodated, and there keep thera 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 navy
into pimping tide-waiters and colony officers of the cus
toms. Let those, who in lime of war fought gallantly in
defence of the commerce of their countrymen, in peace be
taught to prey upon il. Let them learn lo be corrupted
Ly great and real smugglers ; but (to show their dihgence)
scour with armed boats every b-ay, harbour, river, creek,
cove, or nook, throughout the coast of your colonies ; stop
and detain every coaster, every wood-boat, every fisherman,
tumble their cargoes and even their bailabt inside out, and
upside down ; and if a pennywortii 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 il did from their enemies in
war. Then let these boats' crews land upon every Eai'm in
their way, rob their orchards, steal their pigs and poultrj',
and insult the inhabitants. If the injured and exasperated
farmers, unable to procure other justice, should attack the
aggressors, drub them, and bum 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. 0^!
this will work admirably !
XVI, If you are told of discontents in your colonies,
never beheve 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
tiie redress of some other grievance. Grant no request
tliat is just and reasonable, lest they should make another.

416 RULES FOR REDUCING, &c,
that is unreasonable. Take all your inforraations of the
state of the colonies from your governors and officers in en
mity with them. Encourage and reward these leasing-
roakers, secrete their lying accusations, lest they should be
confuted, but act upon them as the clearest evidence ; and
believe nothing you hear from the friends of the people.
Suppose all their complaints to be invented and promoted
by a few factious demagogues, whom if you could catch
and hang, all would be quiet. Catch and hang a few of
them accordingly, and the blood of the martyrs shall work
miracles in favour of your purpose.
XVII. If you see rival nations rejoicing al 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 lo severer measures, let not that
alarm or offend you. Why should it? since you all mean
the same thing?
XVIII. If any colony should at their own charge erect
a fortress, lo secure their porf against the fleets of a foreign
enemy, get your governor to betray that fortress into your
hands. Never think of paying what it cost the country,
for that would look, al least, hke some regard for justice ;
bul lurn it into a citadel, lo awe the inhabitants and curb
their commerce. If they should have lodged in such fortress
the very arms they bought and used to aid you in your eon-
quests, seize them all; it will provoke hke ingratitude
added to robbery. One admirable effect of these opera
tions will be, to discourage every other colony from erect
ing such defences, and so their and your enemies raay more
easily- invade them, to the great disgrace of your govern-
mcut, 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
incursions, demohsh those forts, and order the troops into
theheart ofthe country, that the savages raay be encouraged
to attack the frontiers, and that the troops may be protected
by Itie inhabitants : this will seem to proceed from your ill-
will or your ignorance, and contribute farther lo produce
and strengthen an opinion among thera, that you are no
lon^ger 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 conlroul of even your own civil governors.
Let hira have troops enow under his command, with all the
fortresses in his possession, and who knows but (like somP
provincial generals in the Roman empire, and encouraged
by the universal discontent you have produced) he may
take it into his head to set up for hiraself? If he should,
and you have carefully practised these few excellent rules
of raine, take my word fbr it, all the provinces will imme-^
diately join hira — and you will that day (if you have not done
il sooner) gel rid of the trouble of governing them, and all
the plagues attending their commerce and connectiou from
thenceforth and for ever.

A Prussian Edict, assuming claims over Britain.
Dantzick, Sept. 5, 1773.*
We have long wondered here al the supineness of the
English nation, under the Prussian impositions upon its
trade entering our port. We did not, tilHately, know the
claims, ancientand modern, that hang over that nation, and

* This intelligence extraordinary, first appeared in the Pub--
he Advertiser,
2 K

^18 PRUSSIAN EDICT.
therefore could not suspect that it might submit to thrrse
impositions from a sense of duly, or from principles of
equity. The following edict, just raade. public, may, if se
rious, throw some light upon this matter :
" Frederick, by the grace of God, king of Prussia,
&c. &c. &c. to all present and to come, health. The
peace now enjoyed throughout our dominions, havihg 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 their 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 greal 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 settleraenls made in the island of Britain were
by colomes of people subjects lo our renowned ducal -an-
eestors, and drawn from their dominions, under the con
duct of Hengist, Horsa, Hclla, Uffa, Cerdicus, Ida, and
others ; and that the said colonies have flourished under
the protection of our august house for ages past, have
never been emancipated therefrom, and yet have hitherto
yielded little profit to the same : and whereas we ourself
have in the last war fought for, and defended- the said 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 il 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, aud thence still owe us due obedience,
should contribute to tiie repleuishing of our royal coffers :

PRUSSIAN EDICT. 419
<aS they must have done, had their ancestors remained ill
the territories now to us appertaining) we do therefore
hereby ordain and command, that, frora and after the dale
of these presents, there shall be levied and paid to our
officers ofthe customs, on all goods, wares, and merchan
dizes, and on aU grain aud 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 lo any other part of the world, or
frora any other part of the world lo 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 iVow-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 anatural right to make the best ue they could ofthe
natural productions of their country, for their own benefit,
have not only built furnaces for smelting the said stone
into iron, but have erected plating-forges, slitting-mills, a.d
steel-furnaces, for the more convenient manufacturing- of
the same, thereby endangering a diminution of the said
manufacture in our ancient dominion : we do theretbre
hereby farther ordain, that, Irom and afteJ* the date hereof,
no mill or other engine for shttmg or rolhng 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-fieutcnant of every
2 E 2

420 PRUSSIAN EDICT,
«onnty to 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 lo be abated and destroyed, as
he shall answer the neglect thereof to us al his peril. But
we are nevertheless graciously pleased to permit the inha
bitants of the said island lo transport then- 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 ; any thing herein contained to the contrary not
withstanding, " We do not, however, think fit to extend I'nis our in
dulgence lo 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 tht 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 penally 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 perraitted (if they think proper)
to use all their wool as manure, for the iraprovement of their
lands. " And whereas the, art and raystery of making hats hath
arrived al great perfection in Prussia, and the making of

PRUSSIAN EDICT, 421
hats by our 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 loaden or put into or upon any vessel,
cart, carriage, or horse, to be transported or conveyed out
of one county in the said island into another county, or lo
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
coramodity, 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 lo send their beaver furs to Prus
sia, and we also permit hats made thereof to be exported
from Prussia to Britain ; tiie 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 lastiy, 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 wc, in our great clemency, do not think fit to
hang, shall be emptied out of our gaols into the said island
of Great Britain, for the better peopling of that country.

422 'PRUSSIAN EDICT,
" We flatter ourselves, that these our royal regulations
and commands will be thought just and reasonable by our
much-favburpd colonists iu England ; the said regulations
being copied from their statutes of 10 and 11 Will. HI.
c, 10 ;-5 Geo, 11, 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 pai-t 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.
•' RECHTMJESSIG, Sec."
Some lake this edict to be merely one ofthe king's jeux
desprit : others suppose il serious, and that he means a
quarrel with England : but all here think the assertion il
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 hberty ; 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 iramediate profit, treat its own children in a
Bianuer so arbitrary and tyrannical !

PARABLE AGAINST PERSECUTION, 423

Parable agamst Persecution, in imitation of Scripture
I language.
1, And it came to pass after these tilings, that Abra
ham sat in the door of his tent, about the going down of
the sun.
2. And behold a man bent with age, coming from the
way of the wilderness leaning on a staff.
3. And Abraham arose, and met him, and said unto him.
Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all night:
and thou shall 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 hira greatly : so he turned, and
they went into the tent: and Abraham baked unfeaven
bread, and they did eat, x
6, And when Abraham saw that the raan blessed not
God, he said unto him. Wherefore dost thou not worship
the most high God, creator of heaven and earth ?
7. And the man answered and said, I do not worship thy
God, neither do I call upon his narae, for I have raade to
myself a god, which abideth always in my house, and pro-
yidelh me with all things.
8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against the man, and
he arose, and fell upon him, and drove him forth with blows
into the wilderness.
9. And God called unto Abraham, saying, Abraham,
where is the stranger ?
10. And Abraham answered and said. Lord, he would
not worship thee, neither would he call upon thy namej
therefore have I driven him out from before my face, into
the wilderness.

424 CRIMINAL LAWS
11, And God said. Have 1 borne with him these hun
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.
1 3. And Abraham arose, and went forth into lhe"wilder-
ness, and diligently sought for the man, and found hira, and
returned with hira lo the lent, and when he had entreated
hira 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. Bul 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 Deae Feiend, March 14, 1785,
Among the pamphlets you lately sent me, was one, en
titied. Thoughts on Executive Justice. In return for that,
1 send you a French one on the same subject. Observa
tions concernant I'Execution de TArticle II, de la Decla
ration sur le Vol, They are both addressed to the judges,
but written, as you will see, in a yery different spirit. The
Er glish author is for hanging all thieves. The Frenchman
js tor proportioning punishments to offences.
If we really believe, as we profess lo 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, whicli,
according lo that law, was only to be punished by a resti
tution of (burfold ? To p\it a man to death for an offence
which (foes uot deserve depth, 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 iniid laws were sufficient lo 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 resentraent 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 al the expense of
humanity. This was abusing their power, and comraencing
a tyranny. It a savag-e, before he entered into society,
had been told — " Your neighbour, by this raeans, maybe-
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 inlamous death must be
the consequence :" he would probably have preferred his
hberty, and his common right of killing- any deer, lo all the
advantages of society that might be proposed to him.
That it is belter a hundred guilty persons should escape,
than that one innocent person should suffer, is a maxim
that has been long and generally approved ? never, that I
know of, controverted. Even the sanguinary author of
the " Thoughts" agrees to it, adding well, " that the very
thought ot injured innocence, and much more that ot 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 il. " But,"
he adds, " there is no danger of either, from a strict ad-
(bercnce to the laws." Really ! Is it then impossible to

426 CRIMINAL LAWS
make an unjust lav? ? 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?" I 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-pencfe,
and the punishment of a human creature, by death,
on a gibbet? Might not that woman, by her labour, have
made the reparation ordained by God, in paying 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 lo 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 governraent
of Enghsh subjects, when he applauds the reply of judge
Burnet 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 steahng a horse, was told by the judge, " Man,
thou art not to be hanged only for stealing a horse, bul
that horses may not be stolen." The man's answer, if can
didly examined, will, I imagine, appear reasonable, as being

AND PRIVATEERING. 427
founded on the eternal principle of justice and equity, that
punislimeuts should be proportioned to offences; and the
judge's reply brutal and unreasonable, though the_^writer
" wishes all judge.s to carry it with thera whenever they go
the circuit, and to bear it In tiieir 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 weU as
his life, may be held sacred and inviolate." Is there then
no difference in value between property and life? If I
think it right, that the crime of murder should be punished
-with death, not only as an equal punishment of the crime,^
but to prevent other murders, docs it follow, that I must
approve of inflicting the same punishment for a httle inva
sion of my property "by theft ? If I am not rayself^o 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 whathunianc
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
" L'atrocite des loix en empeche T execution.
" L'orsque la peine est sans mesure, on est souvent oblige
de lui preferer I'impunite.
" La cause- de tous les relachemens vient de rimpunite
des crimes, et non de la moderation des peines.''
It is said by those who know Europe generally, tha<
there are more thefts committed and.punished- annually ia
England, than in all the other nation's 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 tiie defi-

428 CRIMINAL LAWS
ciency of justice and morality in our national government,
manifested in our oppressive conduct to subjects, and unjust
wars on our neighbours' View the long-persisted in, 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 France and Spain, view the late war upon Holland,
which was seen by impartial Europe in no other light than
that of a war of rapine and pillage ; the hopes of an 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 emplo)'-
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 Enghsh
nation, al 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 by merchants,
to prey upon other merchants, who bad never done them
any injury. Is there probably any one of those privateer
ing- raerchants of London, who were so ready to rob the
merchants of Amsterdara, 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
olieni appetens, is the same ; it is the fear alone of the gal
lows that makes the difference. How then can a nation,
which among the honestesl of its people, has so many
thieves by inclination, and whose government encouraged
and coraraissioned no less than seven hundred gangs of rob
bers, bow can such a nation have the face to conderan the

AND PRIVATEERING. 429
crime in individuals, and hang up twenty of them in a morn
ing! Il naturally puts one in mind of a Newgate anecdote.
One ofthe prisoners complained, that in the night somebody
had taken bis buckles out of his shoes. "What, the devil !"
says another, " have we theh thieves amongst us? It must
ot 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 ilfgotten gain. He was,
it seems, part owner of a ship, which the other owners
thought fit to employ as a letter of marque, and which took
a number of French prizes. The booty being shared, he
has now an agent here inquiring, by an advertisement in
the Gazette, for those who suffered the loss, in Order to
make them, as far as in hira lies, restitution. This consci
entious raan is a Quaker, The Scotch Pr>3sbyterians were
formerly as tender ; for there is still extant an ordinance
ef 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 raaking prizes bemg 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 race of these godly
men in Scotland is probably extinct, or their principles,
abandoned, since, as far as that nation had a hand in pro-
motmg the war against the colonies, prizes and confiscations
are believed lo have been a considerable raotive.
It has been for sorae lime a generally received opinion,
that a military man is not lo inquire whether a war be just
or unjust; he is to execute his orders. All princes who
are disposed to becorae tyrants must probably approve of
this ppinion, and be willing to establish it; but is it not a
dangerous one? since, on that principle, if the tyrant com-

430 CRIMINAL LAWS
loands his ai-ray to attack and destroy, not only an unof
fending neighbour nation, bul even his own subjects, the
array 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 famihes, if they yield it ; or
to wound, maim, or raurder them, if they endeavour lo
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 ofthe trade of Europe, with tiie
West Indies, passing before their doors are, as tar as in
them hes, endeavouring to abolish the practice, by offering,
in all their treaties with other powers, an article, engaging

I
REMARKS CONCERNING, &c, '131
solemnly, that, in case of future war, no privateer shall be
commissioned on either side ; and tliat unarmed merchant-
ships, on both sides, shall pursue their voyages unmolested.
This will be a happy improveraent of the law of cations.
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 iu tlie year 1784.
Savages we call them, because their manners differ from
ours,^ which we think the perfection of civihty : 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 pohleness ; nor any so polite,
as not lo 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 ofthe sages; there is no force, there ara
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 grpund, 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
proveraent by conversation. Our laborious manner of life,
compared with their's, they esleera slavish and base ; and
the learning ou which we value ourselves, they regard aa

433 llEMARKS CONCERNING
frivolous and useless. An instance of this occurred al th«
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
al Williamsburg a college, with a fund, for educating In
dian youth ; and that if the chiefs of the Six Nations would
send down half a dozen of their sons to that college, the
governnient 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 sarae day that il 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 collegfes, and that the maintenance of our young
men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. We
are convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us good by
your proposal ; and we thank you heartily. But you, who
are wise, must know, that different nations have different
conceptions of things ; and you will therefore not take it
amiss, if our ideas of this kind of edu( alien happen not lo
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 ; tliey 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, lake a deer, or kill an
enemy, spoke our language imperfectly, were therefore uei-
tiier fit for hunters, warriors, or counsellors ; they were to-

THE SAVAGES. 433
tally good for nothing. We are liowo\er not the less ob
hged 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
greal care of their education, instruct them-iii 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 w arriors in the
next, and the women and children in the hindmost. Tho
business of the women is to "take exact notice of what
passes, imprint it in their meraories, for they have no writ
ing, and communicate it to their children. They are the
records of the council, and they preserve tradition of th*
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 lo 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 Housfe of
Commons, Where scarce a day passes without some con
fusion, that makes the speaker hoarse in calling to order;
and how different from the mode of COUversation iu many
polite corapanies of Europe, where, if you' do not deli'ver
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 tiiese savag-es in conversation is indeed
carried to excess, since it does not penilit them to con
tradict or deny the truth of what is asserted in their pre
sence. By this means they indeed avoid disputes; butthen^
it beeotne.s difficult to know their minds, or what impressiuj*
3 F

434 REMARKS CONCERNING
you raake upon thera. The missionaries who have at-«
templed to convert thera lo Christianity, all complain ofthis
as one of the great difficulties of their mission. The In--
dians hear with great patience the truths of the gospel ex
plained to thera, and give their usual tokens of assent and
approbation : you would think they were convinced. No
such matter. Il is merely civility,
A Swedish minister, having assembled the chiefs of tha
Sasquehannah Indians, made a sermon lo them, acquaint
ing them with the principal historical facts on which our
religion is founded ; such as the fall of our first parents by
eating an apple, the coming of Christ to repair the mischief,
his miracles and suffering, &c. When he had finished, an
Indian orator stood up lo 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,lo tell
us those things which you have heard from your mothers.
In return, I will tell you some of those we have heard from
»»ur'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, 'I wo of our young hunters having
killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to broil some parts
ef it. Whec 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 sec yonder among
the Blue Mountains. They said lo 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 oP great beUefit in nourishing you and your
ehildren to the latest generations. They did so, and to

THE SAVAGES. 4^5 '
their surprise; found plants they had never seen before,
but which, from that ancient tirae, 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 fbund kidney-
beans; and where her backside had sat on il, they found
tobacco," The good missionary, disgusted with this idle
tale, said, " What I have dehvered to you were sacred
truths, bul 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 commoa
civility. You saw that we, who understand and practise
those rules, beheved all your stories; -why do yott refuse to
believe our's ?"
When ahy of them come into our toWns, oUr people are
apt to crowd round them, gaze upon them, and incommode
them where they desire to be private ; this they esteem
great rudeness, and the effect of the want of instruction in
the rules of civility and good manners, " We have," say
they, " as much curiosity as you, and when you come into
our towns, we wish for opportunities of looking al you ; but
for this purpose we hide ourselves behind bushes, whej-e
you are to pass, and never intrude ourselves into your
corapany," . Their manner of entering one another's villages has like
wise its rules. It is reckoned uncivil in travcllina- stransrers
to enter a village abruptly, without giving notice of their
approach. Therefore, as soon as they arrive wjithin 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 viflage a vacant dwelling, caVed
the strangers' house. Here they ale placed, while (he old
men go round from hut lo hut, acquainting the inhal-itt^nis,
that strangers are arrived who are probably hungry and
8 F 2

436 RE.MARKS CONCERNING
weary ; and every one sends them what he can .spare of
victuals, and skins lo 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, §ic. 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 hospitably, esteemed among them as a princi
pal virtue, is practised by private persons? of which Con
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,
.'ipread furs for hini to sit on, and placed before him some
looiled beans and venison, and mixed somfe rum and water
for his drink. When he was well refreshed, and had lit
his pipe, Canassetego began to converse with him : asked
how he had fared the many years since they had seen each
other, whence he then came, what occasioned the journey,
&c. Conrad answered all his questions ; and when the dis
course began lo flag, the Indian, lo contimie it, said,
" Conrad, you have lived long among the white people, and
know something of their customs; I have been sometimes
at Albany, and have observed, that once in seven days they
shut up their shops, and assemble all in the great house;
tell rae what it is for? What do they -do there ?" "They
raeet there," says Conrad, " 16 hear and learn good
'things." " I do not doubt," says the Indian, " that they
tell you so ; they have told rae the same : but I doubt the
truth of what thc^y say, and I will tell you my reasons. I
went lately to Albany to sell my skins and buy blankets,.
knives, powder, rum, &g. You know I used generally la

THE SAVAGES, 437
deal with Hans Hanson ; bull 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 1
cannot do any business to-day, I may as well go to the
meeting too, and I went with him. There stood up a man
in black, and began to talk lo the people very angrily. I
did not understand what he said ; but perceiving that he
looked rauch at rae, and al Hanson, I irhagincd he was
angry al seeing rae 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 soraething 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, ' 1 hope
you iiuve agreed to give more than four shillings a pound?'
' !No,' says he, ' I cannot give so much, I cannot give more
than three shillings and sixpence.' I then spoke to several
other dealej-s, but they all sung the same song, three and
sixpence, three and sixpence. This made it clear to rae
that my suspicion was right; and tiiat 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 tilings, they would
certainly have learned some before this time. Bul 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 meal and
drink, th-al he may allay his thirst and hunger; and we
spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on : we demand

438 INTERNAL STATE
nothing in return,* Bul 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. Gel out you
Indian dog. You see they have not yet learned these lit
tle good things, that we need no meetings lo be instructed
in, because our mothers taught thera to us when we were
children ; and therefore il is impossible their meetings should
be, as they say, fpr any such purpose, or have any such
effect; they are only to contrive the cheating of Indians in
the price of beazer."

The Internal Slate of America ; being a true Descrip
tion ofthe 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 beforo Ihe^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
emineur'T ; and it is to this day the reigning virtue of the wild
Arabs St. Paul too, in the relation of his voyage and ship-
¦yirreck, 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. 43D
^ent 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 lo that Egypt, which persecution
had induced them lo 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 chraate healthy; and, above all,
that they were there in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and*
rehgious : 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 lo 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 pubhc 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, SfC. Sfc. Il is not my intention to assert oi
maintain, that these complaints are entirely without foun
dation. There can be no country or nation existing, in
which there will iiot be sorae people so circumstanced, as
to find it hard lo gain a livelihood ; people who are not in
the way of any profitable trade, and with whom money is
scarce, because they have nothing lo give in exchange for
it ; and it is always ia the power of a smaU number lo make

440 INTERNAL STATE
a great clamour. But let us take a cool view of the genci-al
state of our aiTairs, 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, v.e have al least onp
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 subsisteme, but the materials of
their clothing, so as to need very few foreign supplies ;
while the} have a surplus of productions to dispose of,
whereby weallli is s;radually 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 hardahip in the first settlement of our fal hers here, a
famine or scarcity has ne\erbeen heard of amongst us: ou
the contrary, though some years may have been more, and
others less pkntilul, there has alv.-ays been provi.'-ion
enough for ourselves, and a quanlit}- to sjiarc lor exporta
tion. A.nd although the crops of last year were generally
Eouil, never was the farmer better paid for the part he can
spaic cummercc, as the published price currents abun
dantly testify, 'ilic lands he possesses are also continually
rising ill vAue wilh the increase of population ; and, on the
whole, !;c is enabled to give such good wages to those who
work ibr liini, that all «ho are acquainted with the old world
nuist qgrec, tiiiit ia no part of it are the hibouring poor so
gencraliy v.'ell led, vidl clothed, well lodged, and well paid,
as in the United States ol' Ainerica.
If we enter the cities, we find, that since the revolution,
the owners of houses and lots of ground have had their in
terest \a.s(ly augmented in value; rents have risen to an
astonisliiiig height, and thence encouragement to increase
buili. '.^-j which gives employment to an abundance of
AYOikmcn, as does also the increased luxury and splendour
of li> iDg pf the inlmbitauts, thus made richer,- These work-

OP AMERICA. 441
men all demand and obtain much higher wages than any
other part ofthe wot Id would afford them, and are paid in
ready money. This rank ot people therefore do not, or ous^ht
not, to complain of hard times; and they make a very con
siderable part of the city inhabitants.
At the distance I hve fiom our American fisheries, I can
not speak of them with any degree of certainty ; but 1 have
not heard, that the labour ofthe valuable race of men em
ployed in them is worse paid, or that they meet wilh less
success, than before the revolution. The whale men in
deed have been deprived of one market for their oil ; but
another, I hear, is opening for them, which it is hoped raay
be equally advantageous ; and the demand is constantiy in
creasing tor their spermaceti candles, which therefore bear
a much higher price than i"ormerly.
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; fi,r the consumption of goods in
every country has its hmits; the faculties of the people,
that is, tiieir 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 sorae 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,
fluttering themselves wttiilhe idea of leading easier lives,,
turn shopkeepers, th.e whole natural quantity of that i-u-
sipess divided among them all mayaflbrd too sraall a share
for each, aqd o^casipij complaints, that trading is dead ;
these may, also, suppose, that it is owing- to scarcity of mo
ney, while, in fapt, it is not so much frora the fewness of
buyers, as frora the excessive number of- sellers, that the
mischief jarisesr; 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 sraafl is the proportion of people
in affluence or easy circumstances there, compared wilh
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 faraily 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 ; bul let us look back, and ask if we were ever
without them? Such will exist wherever there is hberty ;
and perhaps they help to preserye it. By the collision of
different sentiments, sparks of truth are struck out, and
pohtical 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 shoukl 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's are by no means more mis
chievous or less beneficial than those of other countries,
nations, and ages, enjoying in the sarae degree the great
blessing of political liberty.
Some indeed among us are not so much grieved for the

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 that 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 seeras to be in every nation a greater
proportion of industry and frugahty, 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 al present
possess, in numerous well-built cities, improved farms, rich
moveables, raagazines slocked with valuable manufactures,
to say nothing of plate, jewels, and coined raoney; and all
this, notwithstanding their bad, wasteful, plundering go-
vernraents, 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 stales, 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 lo ruin such a country, —
If Ihe importation of foreign luxuries cpuld 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 thera, and yet we flourished, and
grew rich. Al present our independent governments may
do what we could not then do, discourage by heavy duties,
or prevent by heavy prohibitions, such importations, and

414 INFORMATION TO THOSE
thereby grow richer : if, indeed, which may admit of dispute,
the desire of adorning ourselves v ith 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 arc
the great sources of our increasing wealth. He that puts
a seed into the earth is recompensed, perhaps, by receiving
forty out of it : and he who draws a fish out of our water,
draws up a piece of silver.
Let us (and there is no doubt but we shall) be attentive
to these, and then the power of rivals, with all their re
straining and prohibiting acts, cannot mu'vh hurt us. We
are sons of the earth and seas, and, like Antteus in the
fable, if, in wrestling with a Hercules, we now and then re
ceive a fall, the touch of our parents will communicate lo us
fresh strength and vigour lo 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 tbeirdesire of transporting and establishing
themselves in that country ; but who appear to hira lo have
formed, through ignorance, mistaken ideas and expecta
tions of what is to be obtained there ; he thinks it may be
useful, and prevehl inconvenient, expensive, and fruitless
reraova;ls and voyages of improper persons, if he gives some
clearer and truer notions of that part ofthe world than ap
pear to have hitherto prevailed.
He finds it is imagined by numbei^, that the inTiabitants

REMOVING TO AMERICA. 415
ef North America are rich, capable of rewarding, and dis
posed lo reward, all sorts of ingenuity; that they are at tho
same time ignorant of all the sciences, and consequently,
that strangers, possessing talents in the belles-lettres. Cue
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 quahfied to fill ; and that, having few persons
ef family among them, strangers of birth must be greatly
respected, and of course easily obtain the best of tliosa
oflices, which will raake all their fortunes: that the govern
ments loo, to encourage emigratiohs frora Europe, not only
pay the expense of personal transportation, but give lands
gratis to strangers, wilh negroes to work for them, uten
sils of husbandry, and stocks of cattie. These are all wild
imaginations ; and those who go to America with expecta
tions founded upon them wifl surely find themselves disap
pointed. The truth is, that though there are in that country fe-'.v
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 ofthe soil, and few tenants; raost 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 quilted 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 uui^
vei-sities, viz. four in New England, and one in each of thi«

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
qualify men for the professions of divinity, law, or physic.
Strangers indeed are by no means excluded from exercising
those professions; and the quick increase of inhabitants
every where gives them a chance of employ, which they
have in common with the natives. Of civil offices, or 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 raake it desirable.
The thirty-sixth article ofthe constitution of Pennsylvania
runs expressly in these words: " As every freeraan, to pre
serve his independence (if he has not a sufficient estate)
ought to have some profession, calling, trade, or farm,
whereby he raay 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 occa.sion 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, it hopes of ob
taining a profitable civil office in Araerica ; and as lo mi
litary offices, they are al au end with the war, the armies
being disbanded. Much less is it ad viseable for a person to
go thither who has no other quahty to recoraraend 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 Araerica, where people do not inquire concerning

REMOVING TO AMERICA. 447
a stranger. What is he? but. What can he do? If h«
has any useful art, he is welcome ; and if he exercisjes it,
and behaves well, he will be respected by all that know
him ; hut a mere man of quality, who on that account
wants lo 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 wilh 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
eat, he drink, he walk about, he go to sleep when he please,
he libb hke a gentleman. According to these opinions of
the Americans, one of them would think himself more ob
liged lo 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 hving 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. W<itts.

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 ti.era ; the laws protect them suffi
cient!}, so thai they have no need ofthe patronage of great
men; and every one will enjoy securely the profits of his
mdustry. But if he does not bring a fortune with him, he
'must wprk 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 became settlers, hy 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 Cocagae, where
the streets arc said to be paved with half-peck loaves, tte
houses tiled with pancakes, and where the fowls ffy about
ready roasted, crying. Come eat me !
Who then are the kind of persons to whom an emigra
tion fo Ainerica 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 au
age to come, irisoriiuch that the propriety of an hundred
acres of fertile soil full of wood piay 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, v/hich 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 tiieir neighbours, and some credit, Multituites of
poor people from England, Ireland, Scotland, and Ger
many, have by this means in a lew years become wealthy
farmers, who, in their own countries, where all the lands

RE3I0VING TO AMERICA. 4-19
are fully occupied, -Mxd the wages pt labour low, conld never
have emerged Irum the mean coutlitiou wherein they were
born. From the salubrity of the air, the heajlliiness ofthe cli
mate, the plent) of good provisions, and the encourage
ment to early marriages, by the certainty of subsistence in
cultivating the earth, the increase of inhabitants by natural
generation is very rapid in America, and becomes still more
so by the accession of stiangeis; hence there is a conti
nual demand for moro artizans of all the necessary and use
ful kinds, to supply those culUvatois of the earth wilh
houses, and with furniture and utensils of the grosser
sorts, which cannot so well be brought from Eur.pe. To
lerably good workmen in any of those mechanic arts are
faure to find employ, and to be well paid f-.ir their work,
there being no restraints preventing strangers from excr-
ti.sing any art they understand, nor any permission nece,?-
sary. If they are poor, they begin fir.st as .servants or
fourneymen ; and if they are sober, industrious, and frugal,
they soon become masters, establish themselves in business,
rnarry, raise families, and becorae respectable citizens.
Also, persons of moderate fortunes and capitals, who,
having a number ot 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 settiements had been extended fai;.
2 §

45& INFORMATION TO THOSE
beyond tiiem, sold readily, without any improvement made
upon them, for three pounds per acre. The acre in Ame
rica is the same with the English acre, or the acre of Nor
mandy. Those, who desire lo understand the slate 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 the
direction of one assembly, called the congress. These
constitutions have been printed, by order of congress, in
America; two editions of them have also been printed in
London ; and a good translation of them into French has
lately been pubhshed al 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, 8cc. 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 n»
power committed to them, or money put into their hands,
lx)r 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 lo encourage private persons to sel it up ;
labour heiug generally loo dear there, and hands difficult
t» be kept together, every one desiring to be a master, and

REMOVING TO AMERICA. 431
the cheapness of land inclining many to leave trades for
agriculture. Some indeed have met with success, and arc
carried on lo advantage : bul they are generally such as
require only a few hands, or wherein great part of the work
is performed by raachines. Goods that are bulky, and of
so sraall value as not well to bear the expense of freight,
raay often be made cheaper iu 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
raers 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
faraily. The buying up quantities of wool and flax, with
the design to employ spinners, weavers, &c. and form great
establi.shmenls, producing quantities of hnen 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 governraents have been sohcited 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 for tie
manufacture, it may be carried on by private persons to
advantage ; and if not, il is a folly to think of forcing na
ture. Great establishments of manufacture require great
numbers of poor lo do the work for small wages ; those
poor are to be found in Europe, bul will not be found iu
America, till the lands are all taken up and cultivated, and
the excess of people, who cannot get land, want employ
ment. The manufacture of silk, they say, is natural in .
France, as that of cloth in England, because each countiy
produces m plenty the first material : but if England will
h-ave a manufacture of silk as well as that of cloth, and
France of cloth as v/ell as that of silk, these unnatural
operations mu-st be supported by mutual prohibitions, or
9. a 9

452 INFORMATION TO THOSE
high duties on the importation of each other's goods ; by
which means the workmen are enabled to lax the home
consumer by greater prices, while the higher wages they
receive makes thera 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 iraposed on eitiier by
the merchant or mechanic : if the merchant demands too
much profit on imported shoes, they buy ofthe shoe-maker;
aud if he asks too high a price, they lake them of the mer
chant: thus the two professions are checks on each other.
Ihe shoemaker, however, has, on the whole, a considerable
profit upon his labour in America, beyond what he had in
Europe, as he can add lo 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 raay, 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 raan 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 hke, which the parents are unable to com
ply with. Hence the youth are dragged up in ignorance of
every gainful art, and obhged to become soldiers, or ser
vants, or thieves, for subsistence. In Araerica, the rapid
increase of inhabitants takes away that fear of rivalship, and
artizans willingly receive apprentices frora the hope of profit
by their labour, during the rernain«\er of the tirae stipn-

REMOVING TO AMERICA. 453
lated, after they shah be instructed. Hence it is easy for
poor families lo gel 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 frora ten
to fifteen years of age bound apprentices to thera, till the
age of twenty-one ; and raany poor parents have, by that
means, on their arrival in the country, raised money enough
to buy land sufficient to establish themselves, and lo sub
sist the rest of their fainily 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 written indenture, not only
that, during the time of service stipulated, the apprentice
shall be duly provided with meat, drink, apparel, washing,
and lodging, and at its expiration with a complete new
suit of clothes, but also, that he shall be taught to read,
write, and cast accounts ; and that he shall be well in-
strocled in the art or profession of his master, or some
other, by which he may afterwards gain a hvehhood, and be
able in his turn to raise a family, A copy of this indenture
is given lo tiie apprentice or his friends, and the magis
trate keeps a record of it, lo 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 Ihera lo pay the pas
sages of young persons, of both sexes, who, on their ar
rival, agree to serve thera 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 lo ac
quire in Iheir own country.
The almost general mediocrity of fortune that prevail

4.54 NEW SETTLEMENTS IN AMERICA.
in America, obliging its people lo follow Some business for
subsistence, those vices, that arise usually from idleness,
are in a great measure prevented. Industry and constant
employment are great preservatives of the morals and vir
tue of a nation. Hence bad examples lo youth are more
rare in America, which must be a comfortable considera
tion to parents. To this may be truly added, that serious
rehgion, under its various denominations, is not only tole
rated, bul 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
tile different sects treat each other, by the remarkable
i^n-osperity with whiph he has been pleased lo favour the
ivholc country.

TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN.
Concerning neic Settlements in America.
My Lokd,. Passy, Marchl7, il7S3.
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 al London, under some
such title as — Letters from a Pennsylvania Farmer, by
Hector St. John. The only encouragement we hold out to
si rangers are, a good climate, fertile soil, wholesome air

THE ANCIENT JEWS, 8cc, 4o5
Hnd 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 settie
ments are undertaken al private expense ; the public con
tributes nothing but defence and justice, I have long ob-
served of your people, that then- sobriety, frugality, indus
try, and honesly, seldora fail of success in America, aud of
procuring thera a good establishment among us.
I do not recollect the circumstance you are pleased to
mention, of my having saved a citizen al St. Andrew's by
giving a lurn to his disorder ; and I am curious lo know,
what the disorder was, and what the advice I gave, that
proved so salutary.* With great regard I have the ho
nour lo be, my lord, your lordship's most obedient and mPst>
bumble servant,
B. FRANKLIN;

A Comparison ofthe Conduct of the Ancient Jews, and of
the Antifederalistsdn the United States of America.
A zealous adyocale for the proposed federal constitution
¦ in a certain public assembly said, that " the repugnance of
a great part of mankind of good government was such, that
he believed, that if an angel from heaven was to bring down
a constitution, formed there for our use, il would neverflie-
less meet with violent opposition." He was reproved for

* It was a fever in which the Earl of Buchan, then Lord
Cadross, lay ^ick at St. Andrew's ; and the advice was, not to
blister, according to the old practice and the opinion of tlie
learned Dr, Simson, brother of the celebrated geometricirni
at Glasgow.

456 THE ANCIEj^^T JEWS, AND
the supposed extravagance of the sentiment, and he di4
not justify it. Probably it raighl not have iraraediately oc
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 rae,
have supported his opinion by that unexceptionable au
thority The Supreme Being had been pleased lo nourish np 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 lo that chosen servant, in
presence of the whole nation, a constitution and codec
laws for their observance, accompanied and sanctioned with
promises of great rewards, and threats of severe puuisli-
tiients, 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 estabhshed mi
nistry of the new governraent.
One would have thought, that the appoinlraenl of raen,
who had di.stinguished themselves in procuring the liberty
of their nation, and had hazarded their hves in openly op
posing the w ill of a powerful monarch, who would have re
tained that nation in slavery, might have been an appoint
ment acceptable to a grateful people"; aud that a constitu--
tion, framed for them by Ihe Deity himself, might on tiiat
account have been secure of an universal welcome recep
tion. Yet there were, in every one ofthe thirteen tribes,
sorae discontented, restless spirits, who were continually
exciting thera lo reject the proposed new government, and
this Irom 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
calf was destroyed. Many of the chiefs thought the new-
constitution might be injurious lo their particular interests,
that the profitable places would be engrossed by the fami
lies and friends of Moses and Aaron, and others, equally
well born, excluded. f In Josephus, and the Talmud, we
learn some particulars, not so fully narrated in the Scrip
ture. We are there told, " that Corah was ambitious of
the priesthood, and offended that it was conferred on
Aaron ;" and this, as he said, by the authority of Moses only,
without the consent of the people. He accused Moses of
having, by various artifiees, 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 lo cry out, " Let us maintain the coramon liberty of
our respective tribes ; we have freed ourselves from the
slavery imposed upon us by the Egyptians, and shall we
suffer ourselves lo be made slaves by Moses ? \.t we must

^ ^^¦•r^-^^^^^^^^^ ^ ' ^

* Numbers, chap. xiv.
t Numbers, 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 lo Pharaoh, wlio 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 lo the privacy of the
meetings, and the preventing any of the people frora being
present at the colloquies, or even approaching the place, as
grounds of greal suspicion. They accused Moses also of
peculation, as embezzling part of the golden spoons and
the silver chargers, that the princes had offered at the de
dication ofthe altar,* and the offerings of gold by the cora
mon people,f as well as raost ofthe 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 v.hich
passion, he had, they said, deceived the people, by pro
mising lo bring thera to a land flowing with milk and ho
ney ; instead pf doing which, he had brought them from
«ooh a land ; and that he thought light of aU this michief,
provided he could make himself an absolute prince.'^
That, lo 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,^ which would
probably be augmented from time to lime, if he were suf
fered to go on promulgating new laws, on pretence of new
* Numbers, chap. vii.
+ Exodus, chap, xxxv, ver,.22.
t Numbers, chap. iii. and ExodUs, chap. xxx.
IJ N umbers, 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.
^ Exodus, chap, xxx

AMERICAN ANTIFEDERALISTS. 459
occasional revelations ofthe divine will, till their whole for
tunes were devoured by that aristocracy.
Moses denied the charge of peculation, and his accusers
were destitute of proofs to support it : thoughyac;?*, if real,
are in their nature capable of proof, " I have not," said
he (with holy confidencp in' the presence of God), " I have
not taken frora 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, " faraous in the congregation, men of renown,"*
heading and exciting the mob, worked them up to such a
pitch of phrenzy, that they called out, itone 'ent, stone
'em, and thereby secure bur hberties; and l«t us choose
other captains, that may lead us back into Egyj^t, in case
we do not succeed in reducing the Canaaniles,
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 lo be
worked upon by artful men, pretending public good, with
nothing really in view but private interest, they were led lo
oppose the establishment of the new constitution, whereby
they brought upon themselves much inconvenience and
misfortune. It farther appears, from the -same inestimable
history, that when, after many ages, the constitution had
heuome 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 hira, Frora all which we may gather, that popular op
position to a public measure is no proof of its impropriety,
even though the opposition be excited and headed by men
of distinction.
To conclude, I beg I may not be understood to infer,
that our general convention was divinely inspired when it
formed the new federal constitution, merely because that
constitution has been unreasonably and vehemently op
posed : yet, I must own, I have so much faith in the gene
ral government of the world by Providence, that 1 can
hardly conceive a transaction of such momentous im
portance lo the welfare of millions now existing, and to exist
in the posterity of a great nation, should be suffered to pass
without being i" some degree influenced, guided, and go
verned by t/ial omnipotent, oranipresent, and beneficent
ruler, in )^hom all inferior spirits hve, move, and have their
being

Final Speech of Dr. Franklin in the late Federal Con
vention.
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 iraportanl sub
jects, which I once thought right, but found to be other
wise. Il is, therefore, that, the older I grow, the more apt
I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect
to the judgment of others. Most men, indeed, as well as
most sects in rehgion, think themselves in possession of all
truth, and that whenever others differ from them, it is so

DR. FRANKLIN. 4GI
far error. Steel, a Protestant, in a dedication, tells tiio
pope, that " the only difference between our two churches,
in the opinions of the certainty of their doctrines, is, llio
Romish- church is infallible, and the church of England
never iu the wrong." But, though many private persons
think almost as highly of their own infallibility as of that ol
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 il happens, sister, bul I raeet 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 hkely 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 gOT
vernment, being incapable of any other. I c^oubt, 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? It therefore
astonishes rae. Sir, lo find this system approaching so near
to perfection as il does; and I think il will astonish our
enemies, who are waiting with confidence to hear, that our
councils are confounded, hke those of the builders of Ba
bylon, and that our states are on the point of separation,
only to meet hereafter for the purpose of culling each
•ther's throats.
Thus I consent. Sir, to this consititution, because I ex
pect no belter, and because I am not sure, that this is not

462 FINAL SPEECH, &c.
the best. The opinion,s I have had of its errors, I sacrifice
to the public good. I have never whispered a syllable of
thera abroad. Within these walls they were born, and
here they shall die. If every one of us, in returning lo 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 .great advantages resulting
naturally in our favour among foreign nations, as well as
among ourselves, frora our real or apparent unanimit3^ >
Much ofthe strength, and efficiency of any government, in
procuring and securing happiness lo 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 parfofthe
people, and for tiie sake of our posterity, we shall act
heartily and unanimously in recommending this constitu
tion, wherever our influence may extend, and lurn our fu
ture thoughts and endeavours to the means of having it
well administered.
On the whole, Sir, I cannot h-ilp expressing a wish, that
every member of the convention, wno ..lay still have objec
tions, would, with me, on this occasion, doubt a httie of his
own infallibihty, and, lo make manifest our unanimity, put
his name lo this instrument,
[The motion was then raade for adding the last formula,
viz. Done in convention, by the unaniraous consent, 5cc. which
was agreed to, and added accordingly.]

AN ACCOUNT, &c. 408

-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 subhme 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 wilh 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. Il is the science of quantity in general, or a
pecuhar method of reasoning, which takes the quantity
sought, as if it were known, and tiien by the help of ano
ther, or more quantities given, proceeds'by undeniable con
sequences, till al length the quantity first only supposed to
be known, is found to be equal lo 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 lo discover and explain the original, nature,
and use, of its reveral parts, for the improvement of physie
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 entablatare, that is, the archi-

464 AN ACCOUNT OF THE
trave, frieze, and cornice ; for these are the parts which
constitute the order, and each one hath its proper and pe
cuhar measures. The rules of architecture require soli
dity, convenience, and beauty. Solidity imphes 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 lo 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 hfe ; such as churches, palaces, and private
bouses. Mihtary 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, raoles, 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 frora .some imaginary,
hidden qualities, which the weak admirers of this cheat will
have to be in the stars.
Astronomy, is a raatheraatical science, which teaches us
the knowledge of the stars or heavenly bodies^ viz. their
magnitudes, distances, motions, and echpses.
Book-keeping, is the art of keeping so distinctly all the
transactions of a man's business, that he may know at any
tirae 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

VRTS AND SCIENCES. 4r,>
simples. As it relates also lo natural history, il leaches to
distinguish the several kinds and species of plants, tree.»,
shrubs, &c. one from another, and to give just description-^
of them.
Chemistry leaches how lo separate the different sub
stances that are found in mixed bodies, as animals, plants,
or minerals, and to reduce thera to their first principles,
Chirology, the art of dumb language, ,or a method pf
talking by signs made with the hands.
Chirurgery, or, as it is coramonly written and pro
nounced. Surgery, is the third branch of the curative part
of medicine, and teaches how several diseases and accidents,
incident lo the body of man, raay be cured by raonunl ope
ration. It is divided by some into five parts, I . Syn
thesis, a setting together things that ai-e separated. 2,
Diasresis, a separating things that were before connected.
3, Diorthosis, a correcting of things squeezed together and
contorted, 4, Exaeresis, the taking away of superfluities.
5, Anaplerosis, the restoring of that which was deficient.
It is a coraraon saying, that a good surgeon should have an
eagle's eye, a lion's heart, and a lady's hand.
Chronology, is the art of computing lime from the cre
ation of the world for historical uses, and preserving an ac
count of remarkable transactions, so as lo date truly tha
beginnings and the ends of reigns of princes, the revolu
tions of kingdoms and empires, signal battles, &c.
Cosmography, teaches lo describe the whole frame ofthe
universe, wilh 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 raanner as lo show the hour of the day when the sun
shines. Papyrius Cursor sel up the first sun-dial in Rome,
2 H

466 AN ACCOUNT OF THE
about the year ofthe 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 il 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 meaus
for us to obtain true felicity, the end of all moral actions.
Geography, teaches to describe the whole globe of the
earth, and all ils 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, 8cc. without any
regard to particular countries. Particular, or special
geography, considers the comstilution 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, beat, 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 th#
earth, or any distances or dimensions on or belonging to
it : but it is now used for the science of quantity, extension,
er magnitude, abstractedly considered, without any regard
to matter. Geometry may be divided into four parts. 1 .
Planimetry, or the mensuration of plain surfaces. 2. Ahi-
tnetry, or the taking and measuring of heights, whether ac
cessible or inaccessible. 3. Longimctry, or the art of
taking the distaftces of things afar off, as steeples, houses,
trees, &c. 4. Stereometry, or the art of measuring solid
bodies.

ARTS AND SCIENCES. 467
Grammar; ..s the art of speaking or writing properly, or
of expressing the relation of things in construction, with due
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 al coronations, interviews of
kings, instalments, creation of peers, funerals, marriages,
&c. 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'^ college is
a corporation established by Richard III. consisting pf
kings at arms, heralds, and pursuivants, who are employed
to denounce war, proclaim peace, &c.
Husbandry, is the art of tilling or cultivating the earth,
iu order to render it fertile, and to assist nature in bringing
to greater perfefclion 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, sounuiugs, gulfs; also its
sands, shallows, shelves, rocks, promontories, distanced
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 sohd bodies
knmerged therein.
Law, applied to the several policies aud stales of peo
ple, is the maxims and rules they have agreed upon, or re-

|68 AN ACCOUNT OF THE
iceived from their magistrates, in order t> live in peace and
putual society ; or it is a command or- precept coming from
some superior authority, which an inferior is obliged lo
obey. Aristotle defines it to be a declaration determined
by the comraon council of a city, showing in what manner
things are to be done ; bul Chambers, in his dictionary,
tliinks 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. It may
be divided into four parts, apprehension, judgment, dis
course, and method ; as in order lo think aright it is ne
cessary lo 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
cither to find what he seeks, or to judge of what he finds,
or to retain what he judges of, or to leach what he retains ;
and frora 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, and the art
of elocution or delivsring.
Mathematics, is the science of quantity, and compre
hends whatever is capable of being numbered or measured.
It raay 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 sorae
uses in life, as in astronomy, architecture, geography, me
chanics, music, optics, perspective, <fec.
'Mechanics, is a mixed mathematical science, which con
siders the nature and laws of motion and moving powers,
with the effects thereof in machines, &c.
Metaphysics raay be called the science of natural theo
logy ; it considers being in general, abstiacted from all mat
ter, viz. the essence of it, which seems to have a real being,
though il does not exist, as a rose in the depth of winter.

ARTS AND SCIENCES. 400
It is so subhrae, or rather so abstruse a science, that there
is a greal difference 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 conductiug a ship or
vessel frora one place lo another, the shortest and most
commodious way. It likewise comprehends the art of
building and loading of ships.
Optics is a raixed matiieraatical sciepce, 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 thera the appearance of life, ll 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, il 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 lo
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
owes ils name to the modesty of Pythagoras, who refused
Uie title of wise given to his predecessors, and contented

470 AN ACCOUNT, Ac.
himself -ftilh the appellation of a friend, or lov»r of wis
dom. Physic, or Medicine, is the art of h«aliug diseases.
According to Boerhaave, it consists in the knowledge ot
those things by whose apphcation 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 guessiug,
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 Bacpn 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, pai-ticularly of men, beasts, birds, &c.
Theology, or Divinity, is that science which instructs
us in the knowledge of God and ditine 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
nature and reason. 2. Supernaturs! 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-
. ogy, is that which proceeds by reasoning, and taking cer
tain estabhshed principles of faith for granted, from thence
deduces abundance of strange things, and has made a fine
'piece of work of it indeed. The ancients had a three-fold
theology: the first, fabulous, which^flourished amoug the

ARTS AND SCIENCES. 471
poets, and was chiefly employed in the genealogies of- tho
gods, &c. ; the second political, which was embraced by
the pohticians, priests, and people, as most suitable and
expedient to the safety, qiiiet, aud prosperity of the state ;
the third natural, chiefly cultivated by the philosopher, as
most agreeable to nature aud reasou. Tius last acknow
ledged only one Supreme Gode

THE END.

Brightly wid Chllds, Printers, Bungay,

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