# Works of the late Doctor Benjamin Franklin/Life of Dr. Franklin, as written by himſelf

LIFE
OF
DOCTOR BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, &c.
MY DEAR SON,
I HAVE amuſed myſelf with collecting ſome little anecdotes of my family. You may remember the enquiries I made, when you were with me in England, among ſuch of my relations as were then living; and the journey I undertook for that purpoſe. To be acquainted with the particulars of my parentage and life, many of which are unknown to you, I flatter myſelf, will afford the ſame pleaſure to you as to me. I ſhall relate them upon paper: it will be an agreeable employment of a week's uninterrupted leiſure, which I promiſe myſelf during my preſent retirement in the country. There are alſo other motives which induce me to the undertaking. From the boſom of poverty and obſcurity, in which I drew my firſt breath and ſpent my earlieſt years, I have raiſed myſelf to a ſtate of opulence and to ſome degree of celebrity in ​the world. A conſtant good fortune has attended me through every period of life to my preſent advanced age; and my deſcendants may be deſirous of learning what were the means of which I made uſe, and which, thanks to the, aſſiſting hand of Providence, have proved ſo eminently ſucceſsful. They may alſo, ſhould they ever be placed in a ſimilar ſituation, derive ſome advantage from my narrative.
When I reflect, as I frequently do, upon the felicity I have enjoyed, I ſometimes ſay to myſelf, that, were the offer made me, I would engage to run again, from beginning to end, the ſame career of life. All I would aſk ſhould be the privilege of an author, to correct, in a ſecond edition, certain errors of the firſt. I could wiſh, likewiſe, if it were in my power, to change ſome trivial incidents and events for others more favourable. Were this however denied me, ſtill would I not decline the offer. But ſince a repetition of life cannot take place, there is nothing which, in my opinion, ſo nearly reſembles it, as to call to mind all its circumſtances, and, to render their remembrance more durable, commit them to writing. By thus employing myſelf, I ſhall yield to the inclination, ſo natural in old men, to talk of themſelves and their exploits, and may freely follow my bent, without being tireſome to thoſe who, from reſpect to my age, might think themſelves obliged to liſten to me; as they will be at liberty to read me or not as they pleaſe. In fine—and I may as well avow it, ſince nobody would believe me were I to deny it—I ſhall perhaps, by this employment, gratify my vanity. Scarcely indeed have I ever heard or read the introductory phraſe, "I may ſay without vanity" but ſome ſtriking and characteriſtic inſtance of vanity has immediately followed. The ​generality of men hate vanity in others, however ſtrongly they may be tinctured with it themſelves: for myſelf, I pay obeiſance to it whereever I meet with it, perſuaded that it is advantageous, as well to the individual whom it governs, as to thoſe who are within the ſphere of its influence. Of conſequence, it would in many caſes, not be wholly abſurd, that a man ſhould count his vanity among the other ſweets of life, and give thanks to Providence for the bleſſing.
And here let me with all humility acknowledge, that to Divine Providence I am indebted for the felicity I have hitherto enjoyed. It is that Power alone which has furniſhed me with the means I have employed, and that has crowned them with ſucceſs. My faith in this reſpect leads me to hope, though I cannot count upon it, that the divine goodneſs will ſtill be exerciſed towards me, either by prolonging the duration of my happineſs to the cloſe of life, or by giving me fortitude to ſupport any melancholy reverſe, which may happen to me, as to ſo many others. My future fortune is unknown but to him in whoſe hand is our deſtiny, and who can make our very afflictions ſubſervient to our benefit.
One of my uncles, deſirous, like myſelf, of collecting anecdotes of our family, gave me ſome notes, from which I have derived many particulars reſpecting our anceſtors. From theſe I learn, that they had lived in the fame village (Eaton in Northamptonſhire), upon a freehold of about thirty acres, for the ſpace at leaſt of three hundred years. How long they had reſided there prior to that period, my uncle had been unable to diſcover; probably ever ſince the inſtitution of ſurnames, when they took the appellation of ​Franklin, which had formerly been the name of a particular order of individuals.
This petty eſtate would not have ſuſſiced for their ſubſiſtence, had they not added the trade of blackſmith, which was perpetuated in the family down to my uncle's time, the eldeſt ſon having been uniformly brought up to this employment: a cuſtom which both he and my father obſerved with reſpect to their eldeſt ſons.
In the reſearches I made at Eaton, I found no account of their births, marriages, and deaths, earlier than the year 1555; the pariſh regiſter not extending farther back than that period. ​This regiſter informed me, that I was the youngeſt ſon of the youngeſt branch of the family, counting five generations. My grandfather, Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived at Eaton till he was too old to continue his trade, when he retired to Banbury in Oxfordſhire, where his ſon John who was a dyer, reſided, and with whom my father was apprenticed. He died, and was buried there: we ſaw his monument in 1758. His eldeſt ſon lived in the family houſe at Eaton, which he bequeathed, with the land belonging to it, to his only daughter; who, in concert with her huſband, Mr. Fiſher of Wellinborough, afterwards ſold it to Mr. Eſted, the preſent proprietor.
My grandfather had four ſurviving ſons, Thomas, John, Benjamin, and Joſias. I ſhall give you ſuch particulars of them as my memory will furniſh, not having my papers here, in which you will find a more minute account, if they are not loſt during my abſence.
Thomas had learned the trade of blackſmith under his father; but poſſeſſing a good natural underſtanding, he improved it by ſtudy, at the ſolicitation of a gentleman of the name of Palmer, who was at that time the principal inhabitant of the village, and who encouraged in like manner all my uncles to cultivate their minds. Thomas thus rendered himſelf competent to the functions of a country attorney; ſoon became an eſſential perſonage in the affairs of the village; and was one of the chief movers of every public enterprize, as well relative to the county as the town of Northampton. A variety of remarkable incidents were told us of him at Eaton. After enjoying the eſteem and patronage of lord Halifax, he died, January 6, 1702, preciſely four years before I was born. The recital that was made us of his life and character, by ſome aged perſons ​of the village, ſtruck you, I remember, as extraordinary, from its analogy to what you knew of myſelf. "Had he died," ſaid you, "juſt four years later, one might have ſuppoſed a tranſmigration of ſouls."
John, to the beſt of my belief, was brought up to the trade of a wool-dyer.
Benjamin ſerved his apprenticeſhip in London to a ſilk-dyer. He was an induſtrious man: I remember him well; for, while I was a child, he joined my father at Boſton, and lived for ſome years in the houſe with us. A particular affection had always ſubſiſted between my father and him; and I was his godſon. He arrived to a great age. He left behind him two quarto volumes of poems in manuſcript, conſiſting of little fugitive pieces addreſſed to his friends. He had invented a ſhort-hand, which he taught me, but having never made uſe of it, I have now forgotten it. He was a man of piety, and a conſtant attendant on the beſt preachers, whoſe ſermons he took a pleaſure in writing down according to the expeditory method he had deviſed. Many volumes were thus collected by him. He was alſo extremely fond of politics, too much ſo perhaps for his ſituation. I lately found in London a collection which he had made of all the principal pamphlets relative to public affairs, from the year 1641 to 1717. Many volumes are wanting, as appears by the ſeries of numbers; but there ſtill remain eight in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and octavo. The collection had fallen into the hands of a ſecond-hand bookſeller, who, knowing me by having ſold me ſome books, brought it to me. My uncle, it ſeems, had left it behind him on his departure for America, about fifty years ago. I found various notes of his writing in the margins. His grandſon, Samuel, is now living at Boſton.
​Our humble family had early embraced the Reformation. They remained faithfully attached during the reign of Queen Mary, when they were in danger of being moleſted on account of their zeal againſt popery. They had an Engliſh Bible, and, to conceal it the more ſecurely, they conceived the project of faſtening it, open, with packthreads acroſs the leaves, on the inſide of the lid of a cloſe-ſtool. When my great-grandfather wiſhed to read to his family, he reverſed the lid of the cloſe-ſtool upon his knees, and paſſed the leaves from one ſide to the other, which were held down on each by the packthread. One of the children was ſtationed at the door, to give notice if he ſaw the proctor (an officer of the ſpiritual court) make his appearance: in that caſe, the lid was reſtored to its place, with the Bible concealed under it as before. I had this anecdote from my uncle Benjamin.
Th whole family preſerved its attachment to the Church of England till towards the cloſe of the reign of Charles II. when certain miniſters, who had been ejected as nonconformiſts, having held conventicles in Northamptonſhire, they were joined by Benjamin and Joſias, who adhered to them ever after. The reſt of the family continued in the epiſcopal church.
My father, Joſias, married early in life. He went, with his wife and three children, to New England, about the year 1682. Conventicles being at that time prohibited by law, and frequently diſturbed, ſome conſiderable perſons of his acquaintance determined to go to America, where they hoped to enjoy the free exerciſe of their religion, and my father was prevailed on to accompany them.
My father had alſo by the ſame wiſe four children born in America, and ten others by a ​ſe wife, making in all ſeventeen. I remember to have ſeen thirteen ſeated together at his table, who all arrived to years of maturity, and were married. I was the laſt of the ſons, and the youngeſt child, excepting two daughters. I was born at Boſton in new England. My mother, the ſecond wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one of the firſt coloniſts of New England, of whom Cotton Mather makes honourable mention, in his Eccleſiaſtical Hiſtory of that province, as "a pious and learned Engliſhman" if I rightly recollect his expreſſions. I have been told of his having written a variety of little pieces; but there appears to be only one in print, which I met with many years ago. It was publiſhed in the year 1675, and is in familiar verſe, agreeably to the taſte of the times and the country. The author addreſſes himſelf to the governors for the time being, ſpeaks for liberty of conſcience, and in favour of the anabaptiſts, quakers, and other ſectaries, who had ſuffered perſecution. To this perſecution he attributes the wars with the natives, and other calamities which afflicted the country, regarding them as the judgments of God in puniſhment of ſo odious an offence, and he exhorts the government to the repeal of laws ſo contrary to charity. The poem appeared to be written with a manly freedom and a pleaſing ſimplicity. I recollect the ſix concluding lines, though I have forgotten the order of words of the two firſt; the ſenſe of which was, that his cenſures were dictated by benevolence, and that, of conſequence, he wiſhed to be known as the author; becauſe, ſaid he I hate from my very ſoul diſſimulation:
From Sherburne, where I dwell,
I therefore put my name,
Your friend, who means you well,
Peter Folger.
​My brothers were all put apprentice to different trades. With reſpect to myſelf, I was ſent, at the age of eight years, to a grammar ſchool. My father deſtined me for the church, and already regarded me as the chaplain of the family. The promptitude with which from my infancy I had learned to read, for I do not remember to have been ever without this acquirement, and the encouragement of his friends, who aſſured him that I ſhould one day certainly become a man of letters, confirmed him in this deſign. My uncle Benjamin approved alſo of the ſcheme, and promiſed to give me all his volumes of ſermons, written, as I have ſaid, in the ſhort-hand of his invention, if I would take the pains to learn it.
I remained however ſcarcely a year at the grammar ſchool, although, in this ſhort interval, I had riſen from the middle to the head of my claſs, from thence to the claſs immediately above, and was to paſs, at the end of the year, to the one next in order. But my father, burthened with a numerous family, found that he was incapable, without ſubjecting himſelf to difficulties, of providing for the expence 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 Brownwel, who was a ſkilful matter, and ſucceeded very well in his proſeſſion by employing gentle means only, and ſuch as were calculated to encourage his ſcholars. Under him I ſoon acquired an excellent hand; but I failed in arithmetic, and made therein no ſort of progreſs.
​At ten years of age, I was called home to aſſiſt my father in his occupation, which was that of ſoap-boiler and tallow-chandler; a buſineſs to which he had ſerved no apprenticeſhip, but which he embraced on his arrival in New England, becauſe he found his own, that of a dyer, in too little requeſt to enable him to maintain his family. I was accordingly employed in cutting the wicks, filling the moulds, taking care of the ſhop, carrying meſſages, &c.
This buſineſs diſpleaſfed me, and I felt a ſtrong inclination for a ſea life; but my father ſet his face againſt it. The vicinity of the water, however, gave me frequent opportunities of venturing myſelf both upon and within it, and I ſoon acquired the art of ſwimming, and of managing a boat. When embarked with other children, the helm was commonly deputed to me, particularly on difficult occaſions; and, in every other project, I was almoſt always the leader of the troop, whom I ſometimes involved in embarraſſments. I ſhall give an inſtance of this, which demonſtrates an early diſpoſition of mind for public enterpriſes, though the one in queſtion was not conducted by juſtice.
The mill-pond was terminated on one ſide by a marſh, upon the borders of which we were accuſtomed to take our ſtand, at high water, to angle for ſmall fiſh. By dint of walking, we had converted the place into a perfect quagmire. My propoſal was to erect a wharf that ſhould afford us firm footing; and I pointed out to my companions a large heap of ſtones, intended for the building a new houſe near the marſh, and which were well adapted for our purpoſe. Accordingly, when the workmen retired in the evening, I aſſembled a number of my playfellows, and by labouring diligently, like ants, ſometimes ​four of us uniting our ſtrength to carry a ſingle ſtone, we removed them all, and conſtructed our little quay. The workmen were ſurpriſed the next morning at not finding their ſtones, which had been conveyed to our wharf. Enquiries were made reſpecting the authors of this conveyance; we were diſcovered; complaints were exhibited againſt us; many of us underwent correction on the part of our parents; and though I ſtrenuouſly defended the utility of the work, my father at length convinced me, that nothing which was not ſtrictly honeſt could be uſeful.
It will not, perhaps, be unintereſting to you to know what ſort of a man my father was. He had an excellent conſtitution, was of a middle ſize, but well made and ſtrong, and extremely active in whatever he undertook. He deſigned with a degree of neatneſs, and knew a little of muſic. His voice was ſonorous and agreeable; ſo that when he ſung a pſalm or hymn, with the accompaniment of his violin, as was his frequent practice in an evening, when the labours of the day were finiſhed, it was truly delightful to hear him. He was verſed alſo in mechanics, and could, upon occaſion, uſe the tools of a variety of trades. But his greateſt excellence was a ſound underſtanding and ſolid judgment, in matters of prudence, both in public and private life. In the former indeed he never engaged, becauſe his numerous family, and the mediocrity of his fortune, kept him unremittingly employed in the duties of his proſeſſion. But I very well remember, that the leading men of the place uſed frequently to come and aſk his advice reſpecting affairs of the town, or of the church to which he belonged, and that they paid much deference to his opinion. Individuals were alſo in ​the habit of conſulting him in their private affairs, and he was often choſen arbiter between contending parties.
He was fond of having at his table, as often as poſſible, ſome friends or well-informed neighbours capable of rational converſation, and he was always careful to introduce uſeful or ingenious topics of diſcourſe, which might tend to form the minds of his children. By this means he early attracted our attention to what was juſt, prudent, and beneficial in the conduct of life. He never talked of the meats which appeared upon the table, never diſcuſſed whether they were well or ill dreſſed, of a good or bad flavour, high-ſeaſoned or otherwiſe, preferable or inferior to this or that diſh of a ſimilar kind. Thus accuſtomed, from my infancy, to the utmoſt inattention as to theſe objects, I have always been perfectly regardleſs of what kind of food was before me; and I pay ſo little attention to it even now, that it would be a hard matter for me to recollect, a few hours after I had dined, of what my dinner had conſiſted. When travelling, I have particularly experienced the advantage of this habit; for it has often happened to me to be in company with perſons, who, having a more delicate, becauſe a more exerciſed taſte, have ſuffered in many caſes conſiderable inconvenience; while, as to myſelf, I have had nothing to deſire.
My mother was likewiſe poſſeſſed of an excellent conſtitution. She ſuckled all her ten children, and I never heard either her or my father complain of any other diſorder than that of which they died: my father at the age of eighty-ſeven, and my mother at eighty-five. They are buried together at Boſton, where, a few years ago, I placed a marble over their grave, with this inſcription:
"Here lie
"Josias Franklin and Abiah his wife: They lived together with reciprocal affection for fifty-nine years; and without private fortune, without lucrative employment, by aſſiduous labour and honeſt induſtry, decently ſupported a numerous family, and educated, with ſucceſs, thirteen children, and ſeven grand-children. Let this example, reader, encourage thee diligently to diſcharge the duties of thy calling, and to rely on the ſupport of Divine Providence.
"He was pious and prudent,
"She diſcreet and virtuous.
"Their youngeſt ſon, from a ſentiment of filial duty, conſecrates this ſtone
"To their memory."
I perceive, by my rambling digreſſions, that I am growing old. But we do not dreſs for a private company as for a formal ball. This deſerves perhaps the name of negligence.
To return. I thus continued employed in my father's trade for the ſpace of two years; that is to ſay, till I arrived at twelve years of age. About this time my brother John, who had ſerved his apprenticeſhip in London, having quitted my father, and being married and ſettled in buſineſs on his own account at Rhode Iſland, I was deſtined, to all appearance, to ſupply his place, and be a candle-maker all my life: but my diſlike of this occupation continuing, my father was apprehenſive, that, if a more agreeable one were not offered me, I might play the truant and eſcape to ſea; as, to his extreme mortification, my brother Joſias had done. He therefore took me ſometimes to ſee maſons, coopers, braziers, joiners, and other mechanics, employed at their ​work; in order to diſcover the bent of my inclination, and fix it if he could upon ſome occupation that might retain me on ſhore. I have ſince, in conſequence of theſe viſits, derived no ſmall pleaſure from ſeeing ſkilful workmen handle their tools; and it has proved of conſiderable benefit, to have acquired thereby ſufficient knowledge to be able to make little things for myſelf, when I have had no mechanic at hand, and to conſtruct ſmall machines for my experiments, while the idea I have conceived has been freſh and ſtrongly impreſſed on my imagination.
My father at length decided that I ſhould be a cutler, and I was placed for ſome days upon trial with my couſin Samuel, ſon of my uncle Benjamin, who had learned this trade in London, and had eſtabliſhed himſelf at Boſton. But the premium he required for my apprenticeſhip diſpleaſing my father, I was recalled home.
From my earlieſt years I had been paſſionately fond of reading, and I laid out in books all the little money I could procure. I was particularly pleaſed with accounts of voyages. My firſt acquiſition was Bunyan's collection in ſmall ſeparate volumes. Theſe I afterwards ſold in order to buy an hiſtorical collection by R. Burton, which conſiſted of ſmall cheap volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. My father's little library was principally made up of books of practical and polemical theology. I read the greateſt part of them. I have ſince often regretted, that at a time when I had ſo great a thirſt for knowledge, more eligible books had not fallen into my hands, as it was then a point decided that I ſhould not be educated for the church. There was alſo among my father's books Plutarch's Lives, in which I read continually, and I ſtill regard as advantageouſly employed the time I devoted to ​them. I found beſides a work of De Foe's, entitled, an Eſſay on Projects, from which, perhaps, I derived impreſſions that have ſince influenced ſome of the principal events of my life.
My inclination for books at laſt determined my father to make me a printer, though he had already a ſon in that profeſſion. My brother had returned from England, in 1717, with a preſs and types, in order to eſtabliſh a printing-houſe at Boſton. This buſineſs pleaſed me much better than that of my father, though I had ſtill a predilection for the ſea. To prevent the effects which might reſult from this inclination, my father was impatient to ſee me engaged with my brother. I held back for ſome time; at length however I ſuffered myfelf to be perfuaded, and ſigned my indentures, being then only twelve years of age. It was agreed that I ſhould ſerve as apprentice to the age of twenty-one, and ſhould receive journeyman's wages only during the laſt year.
In a very ſhort time I made great proficiency in this buſineſs, and became very ſerviceable to my brother. I had now an opportunity of procuring better books. The acquaintance I neceſſarily formed with bookſellers’ apprentices, enabled me to borrow a volume now and then, which I never failed to return punctually and without injury. How often has it happened to me to paſs the greater part of the night in reading by my bed-ſide, when the book had been lent me in the evening, and was to be returned the next morning, left it might be miſſed, or wanted!
At length, Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious tradeſman, who had a handſome collection of books, and who frequented our printing-houſe, took notice of me. He invited me to ſee his ​library, and had the goodneſs to lend me any books I was deſirous of reading. I then took a ſtrange fancy for poetry, and compoſed ſeveral little pieces. My brother, thinking he might find his account in it, encouraged me, and engaged me to write two ballads. One, called the Lighthouſe Tragedy, contained an account of the ſhipwreck of captain Worthilake and his two daughters; the other was a ſailor's ſong on the capture of the noted pirate called Teach, or Black-beard. They were wretched verſes in point of ſtyle, mere blind-men's ditties. When printed, he diſpatched me about the town to ſell them. The firſt had a prodigious run, becauſe the event was recent, and had made a great noiſe.
My vanity was flattered by this ſucceſs; but my father checked my exultation, by ridiculing my productions, and telling me that veriſiers were always poor. I thus eſcaped the misfortune of being, probably, a very wretched poet. But as the faculty of writing proſe has been of great ſervice to me in the courſe of my life, and principally contributed to my advancement, I ſhall relate by what means, ſituated as I was, I acquired the ſmall ſkill I may poſſeſs in that way.
There was in the town another young man, a great lover of books, of the name of John Collins, with whom I was intimately connected. We frequently engaged in diſpute, and were indeed fond of argumentation, that nothing was ſo agreeable to us as a war of words. This contentious temper, I would obſerve by the by, is in danger of becoming a very bad habit, and frequently renders a man's company inſupportable, as being no otherwiſe capable of indulgence than by indiſcriminate contradiction. Independently of the acrimony and diſcord it introduces into converſation, it is often productive of diſlike, ​and even hatred, between perſons to whom friendſhip is indiſpenſably neceſſary. I acquired it by reading, while I lived with my father, books of religious controverſy. I have ſince remarked, that men of ſenſe ſeldom fall into this error; lawyers, fellows of univerſities, and perſons of every profeſſion educated at Edinburgh, excepted.
Collins and I fell one day into an argument relative to the education of women; namely, whether it were proper to inſtruct them in the ſciences, and whether they were competent to the ſtudy. Collins ſupported the negative, and affirmed that the taſk was beyond their capacity. I maintained the oppoſite opinion, a little perhaps for the pleaſure of diſputing. He was naturally more eloquent than I; words flowed copiouſly from his lips; and frequently I thought myſelf vanquiſhed, more by his volubility than by the force of his arguments. We ſeparated without coming to an agreement upon this point; and as we were not to ſee each other again for ſome time, I committed my thoughts to paper, made a fair copy, and ſent it him. He anſwered, and I replied. Three or four letters had been written by each, when my father chanced to light upon my papers and read them. Without entering into the merits of the cauſe, he embraced the opportunity of ſpeaking to me upon my manner of writing. He obſerved, that though I had the advantage of my adverſary in correct ſpelling and pointing, which I owed to my occupation, I was greatly his inferior in elegance of expreſſion, in arrangement, and perſpicuity. Of this he convinced me by ſeveral examples. I felt the juſtice of his remarks, became more attentive to language, and reſolved to make every effort to improve my ſtyle. Amidſt theſe ​reſolves an odd volume of the Spectator fell into my hands. This was a publication I had never ſeen. I bought the volume, and read it again and again. I was enchanted with it, thought the ſtyle excellent, and wiſhed it were in my power to imitate it. With this view I ſelected ſome of the papers, made ſhort ſummaries of the ſenſe of each period, and put them for a few days aſide. I then, without looking at the book, endeavoured to reſtore the eſſays to their true form, and to expreſs each thought at length, as it was in the original, employing the moſt appropriate words that occurred to my mind. I afterwards compared my Spectator with the original; I perceived ſome faults, which I corrected: but I found that I wanted a fund of words, if I may ſo expreſs myſelf, and a facility of recollecting and employing them, which I thought I ſhould by that time have acquired, had I continued to make verſes. The continual need of words of the ſame meaning, but of different lengths for the meaſure, or of different ſounds for the rhyme, would have obliged me to ſeek for a variety of ſynonymes, and have rendered me maſter of them. From this belief, I took ſome of the tales of the Spectator and turned them into verſe; and after a time, when I had ſufficiently forgotten them, I again converted them into proſe.
Sometimes alſo I mingled all my ſummaries together; and a few weeks after, endeavoured to arrange them in the beſt order, before I attempted to form the periods and complete the eſſays. This I did with a view of acquiring method in the arrangement of my thoughts. On comparing afterwards my performance with the original, many faults were apparent, which I corrected; but I had ſometimes the ſatisfaction to ​think, that, in certain particulars of little importance, I had been fortunate enough to improve the order of thought or the ſtyle: and this encouraged me to hope that I ſhould ſucceed, in time, in writing decently in the Engliſh language, which was one of the great objects of my ambition.
The time which I devoted to theſe exerciſes, and to reading, was the evening after my day's labour was finiſhed, the morning before it began, and Sundays when I could eſcape attending divine ſervice. While I lived with my father, he had inſiſted on my punctual attendance on public worſhip, and I ſtill indeed conſidered it as a duty; but a duty which I thought I had no time to practiſe.
When about ſixteen years of age, a work of Tryon fell into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable diet. I determined to obſerve it. My brother, being a batchelor, did not keep houſe, but boarded with his apprentices in a neighbouring family. My refuting to eat animal food was found inconvenient, and I was often ſcolded for my ſingularity. I attended to the mode in which Tryon prepared ſome of his diſhes, particularly how to boil potatoes and rice, and make haſty puddings. I then ſaid to my brother, that if he would allow me per week half what he paid for my board, I would undertake to maintain myſelf. The offer was inſtantly embraced, and I ſoon found that of what he gave me I was able to ſave half. This was a new fund for the purchaſe of books; and other advantages reſulted to me from the plan. When my brother and his workmen left the printing-houſe to go to dinner, I remained behind; and diſpatching my frugal meal, which frequently conſiſtcd of a biſcuit only, or a ſlice of bread and ​a bunch of raiſins, or a bun from the paſtrycook’s, with a glaſs of water, I had the reſt of the time, till their return, for ſhudy; and my progreſs therein was proportioned to that clearneſs of ideas, and quickneſs of conception, which are the fruit of temperance in eating and drinking.
It was about this period that, having one day been put to the bluſh for my ignorance in the art of calculation, which I had twice failed to learn while at ſchool, I took Cocker's Treatiſe of Arithmetic, and went through it by myſelf with the utmoſt eaſe. I alſo read a book of Navigation By Seller and Sturmy, and made myſelf maſter of the little geometry it contains, but I never proceeded far in this ſcience. Nearly at the ſame time I read Locke on the Human Underſtanding, and the Art of Thinking by Meffrs. du Port Royal.
While labouring to form and improve my ſtyle, I met with an Engliſh Grammar, which I believe was Greenwood's, having at the end of it two little eſſays on rhetoric and logic. In the latter I found a model of diſputation after the manner of Socrates. Shortly after I procured Xenophon's work, entitled, Memorable Things of Socrates, in which are various examples of the ſame method. Charmed to a degree of enthuſiaſm with this mode of diſputing; I adopted it, and renouncing blunt contradiction, and direct and poſitive argument, I aſſumed the character of a humble queſtioner. The peruſal of Shaftſbury and Collins had made me a ſceptic; and being previouſly ſo as to many doctrines of Chriſtianity, I found Socrates's method to be both the ſaſeſt for myſelf, as well as the moſt embarraſſing to thoſe againſt whom I employed it. It ſoon afforded me ſingular pleaſure; I inceſſantly practiſed it; and became very adroit in obtaining, even from perſons of ſuperior underſtanding, conceſſions of ​they did not foreſee the conſequences. Thus I involved them in difficulties from which they were unable to extricate themſelves, and ſometimes obtained victories, which neither my cauſe nor my arguments merited.
This method I continued to employ for ſome years; but I afterwards abandoned it by degrees, retaining only the habit of expreſſing myſelf with modeſt diffidence, and never making uſe, when I advanced any proportion which might be controverted, of the words certainly, undoubtedly, or any others that might give the appearance of being abſtinately attached to my opinion. I rather ſaid, I imagine, I ſuppoſe, or it appears to me, that ſuch a thing is ſo or ſo, for ſuch and ſuch reaſons; or it is ſo, if I am not miſtaken. This habit has, I think, been of conſiderable advantage to me, when I have had occaſion to impreſs my opinion on the minds of others, and perſuade them to the adoption of the meaſures I have ſuggeſted. And ſince the chief ends of converſation are, to inform or to be informed, to pleaſe or to perſuade, I could with that intelligent and well-meaning men would not themselves diminiſh the power they poſſeſs of being uſeful, by a poſitive and preſumptuous manner of expreſſing themſelves, which ſcarcely ever fails to diſguſt the hearer, and is only calculated to excite oppoſition, and defeat every purpoſe for which the faculty of ſpeech has been beſtowed upon man. In ſhort, if you wiſh to inform, a poſitive and dogmatical manner of advancing your opinion may provoke contradiction, and prevent your being heard with attention. On the other hand, if with a deſire of being informed, and of benefiting by the knowledge of others, you expreſs yourſelf as being ſtrongly attached to your own opinions, ​modeſt and ſenſible men, who do not love diſputation, will leave you in tranquil poſſeſlion of your errors. By following ſuch a method, you can rarely hope to pleaſe your auditors, conciliate their good-will, or work conviction on thoſe whom you may be deſirous of gaining over to your views. Pope judiciouſly obſerves,
Men muſt be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot.
in the ſame poem he afterwards adviſes us,
To ſpeak, though ſure, with ſeeming diffidence.
He might have added to theſe lines, one that he has coupled elſewhere, in my opinion, with leſs propriety. It is this:
For want of decency is want of ſenſe.
If you aſk why I ſay with leſs propriety, I muſt give you the two lines together:
Immodeſt words admit of no defence,
For want of decency is want of ſenſe.
Now want of ſenſe, when a man has the misfortune to be ſo circumſtanced, is it not a kind of excuſe for want of modeſty? And would not the verſes have been more accurate, if they had been conſtructed thus:
Immodeſt words admit but this defence,
That want of decency is want of ſenſe.
But I leave the deciſion of this to better judges than myſelf.
In 1720, or 1721, my brother began to print a new public paper. It was the ſecond that made its appearance in America, and was entitled the New-England Courant. The only one that exiſted before was the Boſton News Letter. Some of his friends, I remember, would have diſſuaded ​him from this undertaking, as a thing that was not likely to ſucceed; a ſingle newfpaper being, in their opinion, ſufficient for all America. At preſent, however, in 1771, there are no leſs than twenty-five. But he carried his project into execution, and I was employed in diſtributing the copies to his cuſtomers, after having aſſiſted in compoſing and working them off.
Among his friends he had a number of literary characters, who, as an amuſement, wrote ſhort eſſays for the paper, which gave it reputation and increaſed its ſale. Theſe gentlemen frequently came to our houſe. I heard the converſation that paſſed, and the accounts they gave of the favourable reception of their writings with the public. I was tempted to try my hand among them; but, being ſtill a child as it were, I was fearful that my brother might be unwilling to print in his paper any performance of which he ſhould know me to be the author. I therefore contrived to diſguiſe my hand, and having written an anonymous piece, I placed it at night under the door of the printing-houſe, where it was found the next morning. My brother communicated it to his friends, when they came as uſual to ſee him, who read it, commented upon it within my hearing, and I had the exquiſite pleaſure to find that it met with their approbation, and that, in the various conjectures they made reſpecting the author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country for talents and genius. I now ſuppoſed myſelf fortunate in my judges, and began to ſuſpect that they were not ſuch excellent writers as I had hitherto ſuppoſed them. Be that as it may, encouraged by this little adventure, I wrote and ſent to the preſs, in the fame way, many other pieces, which were equally approved; keeping ​the ſecret till my ſlender ſtock of information and knowledge for ſuch performances was pretty completely exhauſted, when I made myſelf known.
My brother, upon this diſcovery, began to entertain a little more reſpect for me; but he ſtill regarded himſelf as my maſter, and treated me like an apprentice. He thought himſelf entitled to the fame 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 indulgence. Our diſputes were frequently brought before my father; and either my brother was generally in the wrong, or I was the better pleader of the two, for judgment was commonly given in my favour. But my brother was paſſionate, and often had recourſe to blows; a circumſtance which I took in very ill part. This ſevere and tyrannical treatment contributed, I believe, to imprint on my mind that averſion to arbitrary power, which during my whole life I have ever preſerved. My apprenticeſhip became inſupportable to me, and I continually ſighed for an opportunity of ſhortening it, which at length unexpectedly offered.
An article inſerted in our paper, upon ſome political ſubject which I have now forgotten, gave offence to the Aſſembly. My brother was taken into cuſtody, cenſured, and ordered into confinement for a month, becauſe, as I preſume, he would not diſcover the author. I was alſo taken up, and examined before the council; but though I gave them no ſatisfaction, they contented themſelves with reprimanding, and then diſmiſſed me; conſidering me probably as bound, in quality of apprentice, to keep my maſter's ſecrets.
​The impriſonment of my brother kindled my reſentment, notwithſtanding our private quarrels. During its continuance the management of the paper was entruſted to me, and I was bold enough to inſert ſome paſquinacles againſt the governors; which highly pleaſed my brother, while others began to look upon me in an unfavourable point of view, conſidering me as a young wit inclined to ſatire and lampoon.
My brother's enlargement was accompanied with an arbitrary order from the houſe of aſſembly, "That James Franklin ſhould no longer print the newſpaper entitled the New-England Courant." In this conjuncture, we held a conſultation of our friends at the printing-houſe, in order to determine what was proper to be done. Some propoſed to evade the order, by changing the title of the paper: but my brother foreſeeing inconveniences that would reſult from this ſtep, thought it better that it ſhould in future be printed in the name of Benjamin Franklin; and to avoid the cenſure of the aſſembly, who might charge him with ſtill printing the paper himſelf, under the name of his apprentice, it was reſolved that my old indentures ſhould be given up to me, with a full and entire diſcharge written on the back, in order to be produced upon an emergency; but that, to ſecure to my brother the benefit of my ſervjce, I ſhould ſign a new contract, which ſhould be kept ſecret during the remainder of the term. This was a very ſhallow arrangement. It was, however, carried into immediate execution, and the paper continued, in conſequence, to make its appearance for ſome months in my name. At length a new difference ariſing between my brother and me, I ventured to take advantage of my liberty, preſuming that he would not dare to produce the new ​contract. It was undoubtedly diſhonourable to avail myſelf of this circumſtance, and I reckon this action as one of the firſt errors of my life; but I was little capable of eſtimating it at its true value, embittered as my mind had been by the recollection of the blows I had received. Excluſively of his paſſionate treatment of me, my brother was by no means a man of an ill temper, and perhaps my manners had too much of impertinence not to afford it a very natural pretext.
When he knew that it was my determination to quit him, he wiſhed to prevent my finding employment elſewhere. He went to all the printing-houſes in the town, and prejudiced the maſters againſt me; who accordingly refuſed to employ me. The idea then ſuggeſted itſelf to me of going to New-York, the neareſt town in which there was a printing-office. Farther reflection confirmed me in the deſign of leaving Boſton, where I had already rendered myſelf an object of ſuſpicion to the governing party. It was probable, from the arbitrary proceedings of the Aſſembly in the affair of my brother, that, by remaining, I ſhould ſoon have been expoſed to difficulties, which I had the greater reaſon to apprehend, as, from my indiſcreet diſputes upon the ſubject of religion, I began to be regarded, by pious fouls, with horror, either as an apoſtate or an atheiſt. I came therefore to a reſolution; but my father, in this inſtance, ſiding with my brother, I preſumed that if I attempted to depart openly, meaſures would be taken to prevent me. My friend Collins undertook to favour my flight. He agreed for my paſſage with the captain of a New-York ſloop, to whom he repreſented me as a young man of his acquaintance, who had had an affair with a girl of bad character, whoſe parents wiſhed to compel me to marry her, and ​that of conſequence I could neither make my appearance nor go off publicly. I ſold part of my books to procure a ſmall ſum of money, and went privately on board the ſloop. By favour of a good wind, I found myſelf in three days at New-York, nearly three hundred miles from my home, at the age only of ſeventeen years, without knowing an individual in the place, and with very little money in my pocket.
The inclination I had felt for a ſea-faring life was entirely ſubſided, or I ſhould now have been able to gratify it; but having another trade, and believing myſelf to be a tolerable workman, I heſitated not to offer my ſervices to the old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the firſt printer in Pennſylvania, but had quitted that province on account of a quarrel with George Keith, the governor. He could not give me employment himſelf, having little to do, and already as many perſons as he wanted; but he told me that his ſon, printer at Philadelphia, had lately loſt his principal workman, Aquila Roſe, who was dead, and that if I would go thither, he believed that he would engage me. Philadelphia was a hundred miles farther. I heſitated not to embark in a boat in order to repair, by the ſhorteſt cut of the ſea, to Amboy, leaving my trunk and effects to come after me by the uſual and more tedious conveyance. In croſſing the bay we met with a ſquall, which ſhattered to pieces our rotten ſails, prevented us from entering the Kill, and threw us upon Long Iſland.
During the ſquall a drunken Dutchman, who like myſelf was a paſſenger in the boat, fell into the ſea. At the moment that he was ſinking, I ſeized him by the fore-top, ſaved him, and drew him on board. This immerſion fobered him a little, ſo that he fell aſleep, after having taken ​from his pocket a volume, which he requeſted me to dry. This volume I found to be my old favourite work, Bunyan's Voyages, in Dutch, a beautiful impreſſion on fine paper, with copper-plate engravings; a dreſs in which I had never ſeen it in its original language. I have ſince learned that it has been tranſlated into almoſt all the languages of Europe, and next to the Bible, I am perſuaded, it is one of the books which has had the greateſt ſpread. Honeſt John is the firſt, that I know of, who has mixed narrative and dialogue together; a mode of writing very engaging to the reader, who, in the moſt intereſting paſſages, finds himſelf admitted as it were into the company, and preſent at the converſation. De Foe has imitated it with ſucceſs in his Robinſon Cruſoe, his Moll Flanders, and other works; as alſo has Richardſon in his Pamela, &c.
In approaching the iſland, we found that we had made a part of the coaſt where it was not poſſible to land, on account of the ſtrong breakers produced by the rocky ſhore. We caſt anchor and veered the cable towards the ſhore. Some men, who ſtood upon the brink, hallooed to us, while we did the ſame on our part; but the wind was ſo high, and the waves ſo noiſy, that we could neither of us hear each other. There were ſome canoes upon the bank, and we called out to them, and made ſigns to prevail on them to come and take us up; but either they did not underſtand us, or they deemed our requeſt impracticable, and withdrew. Night came on, and nothing remained for us but to wait quietly the ſubſiding of the wind; till when we determined, that is, the pilot and I, to ſleep if poſſible. For that purpoſe we went below the hatches along with the Dutchman, who was drenched with water. The ſea broke over the. boat, and reached ​us in our retreat, ſo that we were preſently as completely drenched as he.
We had very little repoe 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 to walk, in order to reach Burlington, where I was told I ſhould find paſſage-boats that would convey me to Philadelphia. It rained hard the whole day, ſo that I was wet to the ſkin. Finding myſelf fatigued about noon, I ſtopped at a paltry inn, where I paſſed the reſt of the day and the whole night, beginning to regret that I had quitted my home. I made beſides ſo wretched a figure, that I was ſuſpeſted to be ſome runaway ſervant. This I diſcovered by the queſtions that were aſked me; and I felt that I was every moment in danger of being taken up as ſuch. The next day, however, I continued my journey, and arrived in the evening at an inn, eight or ten miles from Burlington, that was kept by one Dr. Brown.
This man entered into converſation with me while i took ſome refreſhment, and perceiving that I had read a little, he expreſſed towards me conſiderable intereſt and friendship, Our acquaintance continued during the remainder of his life. I believe him to have been what is called an itinerant doctor; for there was no ​town in England, or indeed in Europe, of which he could not give a particular account. He was neither deficient in underſtanding or literature, but he was a fad infidel; and, ſome years after, wickedly undertook to traveſty the Bible in burleſque verſe; as Cotton has traveſtied Virgil. He exhibited, by this means, many facts in a very ludicrous point of view, which would have given umbrage to weak minds, had his work been publiſhed, which it never was.
I ſpent the night at his houſe, and reached Burlington the next morning. On my arrival, I had the mortification to learn that the ordinary paſſage-boats had ſailed a little before. This was on a Saturday, and there would be no other boat till the Tueſday following. I returned to the houſe of an old woman in the town who had ſold me ſome ginger-bread to eat on my paſſage, and I aſked her advice. She invited me to take up my abode with her till an opportunity offered for me to embark. Fatigued with having travelled ſo far on foot, I accepted her invitation. When ſhe underſtood that I was a printer, ſhe would have perſuaded me to ſtay at Burlington, and ſet up my trade: but ſhe was little aware of the capital that would be neceſſary for ſuch a purpoſe! I was treated while at her houſe with true hoſpitality. She gave me, with the utmoſt good-will, a dinner of beef-ſteaks, and would accept of nothing in return but a pint of ale.
Here I imagined myſelf to be fixed till the Tueſday in the enſuing week; but walking out in the evening by the river ſide, I ſaw a boat with a number of perſons in it approach. It was going to Philadelphia, and the company took me in. As there was no wind, we could only make way with our oars. About midnight, not perceiving the town, ſome of the company were of ​opinion that we muſt have pafied it, and were unwilling to row any farther; the reſt not knowing where we were, it was reſolved that we ſhould ſtop. We drew towards the ſhore, entered a creek, and landed near ſome old paliſades, which ſerved us for fire-wood, it being a cold night in October. Here we ſtayed till day, when one of the company found the place in which we were to be Cooper's Creek, a little above Philadelphia; which in reality we perceived the moment we were out of the creek. We arrived on Sunday about eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and landed on Market-ſtreet wharf.
I have entered into the particulars of my voyage, and ſhall in like manner deſcribe my firſt entrance into this city, that you may be able to compare beginnings ſo little auſpicious, with the figure I have ſince made.
On my arrival at Philadelphia I was in my working dreſs, my beſt clothes being to come by ſea. I was covered with dirt; my pockets were filled with ſhirts and ſtockings; I was unacquainted with a ſingle ſoul in the place, and knew not where to ſeek for a lodging. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and having paſſed the night without ſleep, I was extremely hungry, and all my money conſiſted of a Dutch dollar, and about a ſhilling's worth of coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my paſſage. As I had aſſiſted them in rowing, they refuſed it at firſt; but I inſiſted on their taking it. A man is ſometimes more generous when he has little, than when he has much money; probably becauſe, in the firſt caſe, he is deſirous of concealing his poverty.
I walked towards the top of the ſtreet, looking eagerly on both ſides, till I came to Market-ſtreet, where I met a child with a loaf of bread, Often had I made my dinner on dry bread. I ​enquired where he had bought it, and went ſtraight to the baker's ſhop which he pointed out to me. I aſked for ſome biſcuits, expecting to find ſuch as we had at Boſton; but they made, it ſeems, none of that ſort at Philadelphia. I then aſked for a three penny loaf. They made no loaves of that price. Finding myſelf ignorant of the prices, as well as of the different kinds of bread, I deſired him to let me have three penny-worth of bread of ſome kind or other. He gave me three large rolls. I was ſurprized at receiving ſo much: I took them, however, and having no room in my pockets, I walked on with a roll under each arm, eating the third. In this manner I went through Market-ſtreet to Fourth-ſtreet, and paſſed the houſe of Mr. Read, the father of my future wife. She was ſtanding at the door, obſerved me, and thought, with reaſon, that I made a very ſingular and groteſque appearance.
I then turned the corner, and went through Cheſnut-ſtreet, eating my roll all the way; and having made this round, I found myſelf again on Market-ſtreet wharf, near the boat in which I had arrived. I ſtepped into it to take a draught of the river water; and finding myſelf ſatisfied with my firſt roll, I gave the other two to a woman and her child, who had come down the river with us in the boat, and was waiting to continue her journey. Thus refreſhed, I regained the ſtrect, which was now full of well dreſſed people, all going the ſame way. I joined them, and was thus led to a large Quaker's meeting-houſe near the Market-place. I ſat down with the reſt, and after looking round me for ſome time, hearing nothing ſaid, and being drowſy from my laſt night's labour and want of reſt, I fell into a ſound ſleep. In this ſtate I continued ​till the aſſembly diſperſed, when one of the congregation had the goodneſs to wake me. This was conſequently the firſt houſe I entered or in which I ſlept at Philadelphia.
I began again to walk along the ſtreet by the river ſide; and looking attentively in the face of every one I met, I at length perceived a young quaker whoſe countenance pleaſed me. I accoſted him, and begged him to inform me where a ſtranger might find a lodging. We were then near the ſign of the Three Mariners. They receive travellers here, ſaid he, but it is not a houſe that bears a good character; if you will go with me, I will ſhew you a better one. He conducted me to the Crooked Billet, in Water-ſtreet. There I ordered ſomething for dinner, and during my meal a number of curious queſtions were put to me; my youth and appearance exciting the ſuſpicion of my being a runaway. After dinner my drowſineſs returned, and I threw myſelf upon a bed without taking off my clothes, and ſlept till ſix o'clock in the evening, when I was called to ſupper. I afterwards went to bed at a very early hour, and did not awake till the next morning.
As ſoon as I got up I put myſelf in as decent a trim as I could, and went to the houſe of Andrew Bradford the printer. I found his father in the ſhop, whom I had ſeen at New- York. Having travelled on horſeback, he had arrived at Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his ſon, who received me with civility, and gave me ſome breakfaſt; but told me he had no occaſion at preſent for a journeyman, having lately procured one. He added, that there was another printer newly ſettled in the town, of the name of Keimer, who might perhaps employ me; and that in caſe of refuſal, I ſhould be welcome to ​lodge at his houſe, and he would give me a little work now and then, till ſomething better ſhould offer.
The old man offered to introduce me to the new printer. When we were at his houſe: "Neighbour," ſaid he, "I bring you a young man in the printing buſineſs; perhaps you may have need of his ſervices."
Keimer aſked me ſome queſtions, put a compoſing ſtick in my hand to fee how I could work, and then ſaid, that at preſent he had nothing for me to do, but that he ſhould ſoon be able to employ me. At the ſame time taking old Bradford for an inhabitant of the town well-diſpoſed towards him, he communicated his project to him, and the proſpect he had of ſucceſs. Bradford was careful not to diſcover that he was the father of the other printer; and from what Keimer had ſaid, that he hoped ſhortly to be in poſſeſſion of the greater part of the buſineſs of the town, led him by artful queſtions, and by ſtarting ſome difficulties, to diſcloſe all his views, what his hopes were founded upon, and how he intended to proceed. I was preſent, and heard it all. I inſtantly ſaw that one of the two was a cunning old fox, and the other a perfect novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was ſtrangely ſurprized when I informed him who the old man was.
I found Keimer's printing materials to conſiſt of an old damaged preſs, and a ſmall caſt of worn-out Engliſh letters, with which he was himſelf at work upon an elegy on Aquila Roſe, whom I have mentioned above, an ingenious young man, and of an excellent character, highly eſteemed in the town, ſecretary to the aſſembly, and a very tolerable poet. Keimer alſo made verſes, but they were indifferent ones. He could not be ſaid to write in verſe, for his method was to ſet the ​lines as they flowed from his muſe; and as he worked without copy, had but one ſet of letter-caſes, and the elegy would probably occupy all his type, it was impoſſible for any one to aſſiſt him. I endeavoured to put his preſs in order, which he had not yet uſed, and of which indeed he underſtood nothing: and having promiſed to come and work off his elegy as ſoon as it ſhould be ready, I returned to the houſe of Bradford, who gave me ſome trifle to do for the preſent, for which I had my board and lodging.
In a few days Keimer ſent for me to print off his elegy. He had now procured another ſet of letter-caſes, and had a pamphlet to reprint, upon which he ſet me to work.
The two Philadelphia printers appeared deſtitute of every qualification neceſſary in their profeſſion. Bradford had not been brought up to it, and was very iliterate. Keimer, though he underſtood a little of the buſineſs, was merely a compoſitor, and wholly incapable of working at the preſs. He had been one of the French prophets, and knew how to imitate their ſupernatural agitations. At the time of our firſt acquaintance he profeſſed no particular religion, but a little of all upon occaſion. He was totally ignorant of the world, and a great knave at heart, as I had afterwards an opportunity of experiencing.
Keimer could not endure that, working with him, I ſhould lodge at Bradford's. He had indeed a houſe, but it was unfurniſhed; ſo that he could not take me in. He procured me at lodging at Mr. Read's, his landlord, whom I have already mentioned. My trunk and effects being now arrived, I thought of making, in the eyes of Miſs Read, a more reſpectable appearance ​than when chance exhibited me to her view, eating my roll, and wandering in the ſtreets.
From this period I began to contract acquaintance, with ſuch young people of the town as were fond of reading, and ſpent my evenings with them agreeably, while at the ſame time I gained money by my induſtry, and, thanks to my frugality, lived contented. I thus forgot Boſton as much aſ poſſible, and wiſhed every one to be ignorant of the place of my reſidence, except my friend Collins, to whom I wrote, and who kept my ſecret.
An incident however arrived, which ſent me home much ſooner than I had propoſed. I had a brother-in-law, of the name of Robert Holmes, maſter of a trading ſloop from Boſton to Delaware. Being at Newcaſtle, forty miles below Philadelphia, he heard of me, and wrote to inform me of the chagrin which my ſudden departure from Boſton had occaſioned my parents, and of the affection which they ſtill entertained for me, alluring me that, if I would return every thing ſhould be adjuſted to my ſatisfaction; and he was very preſſing in his entreaties. I anſwered. his letter, thanked him for his advice, and explained the reaſons which had induced me to quit Boſton, with ſuch force and clearneſs, that he was convinced I had been leſs to blame than he had imagined.
Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was at Newcaſtle at the time. Captain Holmes, being by chance in his company when he received my letter, took occasion to ſpeak of me, and ſhewed it him. The governor read it, and appeared ſurprized when he learned my age. He thought me, he ſaid, a young man of very promiſing talents, and that, of conſequence, I ought to be encouraged; that there were at ​Philadelphia none but very ignorant printers, and that if I were to ſet up for myſelf, he had no doubt of my ſucceſs; that, for his own part, he would procure me all the public buſineſs, and would render me every other ſervice in his power. My brother-in-law related all this to me afterwards at Bofton; but I knew nothing of it at the time; when one day Keimer and I being at work together near the window, we ſaw the governor and another gentleman, colonel French of Newcaſtle, handſomely dreſſed, croſs the ſtreet, and make directly for our houſe. We heard them at the door, and Keimer, believing it to be a viſit to himſelf, went immediately down: but the governor enquired for me, came up ſtairs, and, with a condeſcenſion and politeneſs to which I had not at all been accuſtomed, paid me many compliments, deſired to be acquainted with me, obligingly reproached me for not having made myſelf known to him on my arrival in the town, and wiſhed me to accompany him to a tavern, where he and colonel French were going to taſte ſome excellent Madeira wine.
I was, I confeſs, ſomewhat ſurpriſed, and Keimer appeared thunderſtruck. I went however with the governor and the colonel to a tavern at the corner of Third ſtreet, where, while we were drinking the Madeira, he propoſed to me to eſtabliſh a printing-houſe. He ſet forth the probabilities of ſucceſs, and himſelf and colonel French aſſured me that I ſhould have their protection and influence in obtaining the printing of the public papers of both governments: and as I appeared to doubt whether my father would aſſiſt me in this enterprize, Sir William ſaid that he would give me a letter to him, in which he would repreſent the advantages of the ſcheme, in a light which he had no doubt would determine ​him. It was thus concluded that I ſhould return to Boſton by the firſt veſſel, with the letter of recommendation from the governor to my father. Meanwhile the project was to be kept ſecret, and I continued to work for Keimer as before.
The governor ſent every now and then to invite me to dine with him. I considered this as a very great honour; and I was the more ſenſible of it, as he converſed with me in the moſt affable, familiar, and friendly manner imaginable.
Towards the end of April 1724, a ſmall veſſel was ready to ſail for Boſton. I took leave of Keimer, upon the pretext of going to ſee my parents. The governor gave me a long letter, in which he ſaid many flattering things of me to my father; and ſtrongly recommended the project of my ſettling at Philadelphia, as a thing which could not fail to make my fortune.
Going down the bay we ſtruck on a flat, and ſprung a leak. The weather was very tempeſtuous, and we were obliged to pump without intermiſſion; I took my turn. We arrived however ſafe and found at Boſton, after about a fortnight's paſſage.
I had been abſent ſeven complete months, and my relations, during that interval, had received no intelligence of me; for my brother-in-law, Holmes, was not yet returned, and had not written about me. My unexpected appearance ſurprized the family; but they were all delighted at ſeeing me again, and, except my brother, welcomed me home. I went to him at the printing-houſe. I was better dreſſed than I had ever been while in his ſervice: I had a complete ſuit of clothes, new and neat, a watch in my pocket, and my purſe was furniſhed with nearly five ​pounds ſterling in money. He gave me no very civil reception; and having eyed me from head to foot, reſumed his work.
The workmen aſked me with eagerneſs where I had been, what ſort of a country it was, and how I liked it. I ſpoke in the higheſt terms of Philadelphia, the happy life we led there, and expreſſed my intention of going back again. One of them aſking what ſort of money we had, I diſplayed before them a handful of ſilver,, which I drew from my pocket. This was a curioſity to which they were not accuſtomed, paper being the current money at Boſton. I failed not after this to let them ſee my watch; and at laſt, my brother continuing fallen and out of humour, I gave them a ſhilling to drink, and took my leave. This viſit ſtung my brother to the foul; for when, ſhortly after, my mother ſpoke to him of a reconciliation, and a deſire to fee us upon good terms, he told her that I had ſo inſulted him before his men, that he would never forget or forgive it; in this, however, he was miſtaken.
The governor's letter appeared to excite in my father ſome ſurpriſe; but he ſaid little. After ſome days, captain Holmes being returned, he ſhowed it him, aſking him if he knew Keith, and what fort of a man he was: adding, that, in his opinion, it proved very little discernment to think of ſetting up a boy in buſineſs, who for three years to come would not be of an age to be ranked in the claſs of men. Holmes ſaid every thing he could in favour of the ſcheme; but my father firmly maintained its abſurdity, and at laſt gave a poſitive refuſal. He wrote, however, a civil letter to Sir William, thanking him for the protection he had ſo obligingly offered me, but refuſing to aſſiſt me for the preſent, becauſe he thought me too young to be entruſted with the ​conduct of ſo important an enterpriſe, and which would require ſo conſiderable a ſum of money.
My old comrade Collins, who was a clerk in the poſt-office, charmed with the account I gave of my new reſidence, expreſſed a deſire of going thither; and while I waited my father's determination, he ſet off before me, by land, for Rhode Iſland, leaving his books, which formed a handſome collection in mathematics and natural philoſophy, to be conveyed with mine to New-York, where he purpoſed to wait for me.
My father, though he could not approve Sir William's propoſal, was yet pleaſed that I had obtained ſo advantageous a recommendation as that of a perſon of his rank, and that my induſtry and œconomy had enabled me to equip myſelf ſo handſomely in ſo ſhort a period. Seeing no appearance of accommodating matters between my brother and me, he conſented to my return to Philadelphia, adviſed me to be civil to every body, to endeavour to obtain general eſteem, and avoid ſatire and ſarcaſm, to which he thought I was too much inclined; adding, that, with perſeverance and prudent œconomy, I might, by the time I became of age, ſave enough to eſtabliſh myſelf in buſineſs; and that if a ſmall ſum ſhould then be wanting, he would undertake to ſupply it.
This was all I could obtain from him, except ſome trifling prefects, in token of friendſhip from him and my mother. I embarked once more for New-York, furniſhed at this time with their approbation and bleſſing. The ſloop having touched at Newport in Rhode Iſland, I paid a viſit to my brother John, who had for ſome years been ſettled there, and was married. He had always been attached to me, and he received me with great affection. One of his friends, whoſe ​name was Vernon, having a debt of about thirty-ſix pounds due to him in Penſylvania, begged me to receive it for him, and to keep the money till I ſhould hear from: accordingly he gave me an order for that purpoſe. This affair occaſioned me, in the ſequel, much uneaſineſs.
At Newport we took on board a number of paſſengers; among whom were two young women, and a grave and ſenſible quaker lady with her ſervants. I had ſhown an obliging forwardneſs in rendering the quaker ſome trifling ſervices, which led her, probably, to feel an intereſt in my welfare; for when ſhe ſaw a familiarity take place, and every day increaſe, between the two young women and me, ſhe took me aſide and ſaid: "Young man, I am in pain for thee. Thou haft no parent to watch over thy conduct, and thou ſeemeſt to be ignorant of the world, and the ſnares to which youth is expoſed. Rely upon what I tell thee: thoſe are women, of bad characters; I perceive it in all their actions. If thou doſt not take care, they will lead thee into danger. They are ſtrangers to thee, and I adviſe thee, by the friendly intereſt I take in thy preſervation, to form no connection with them." As I appeared at firſt not to think quite ſo ill of them as ſhe did, ſhe related many things ſhe had ſeen and heard, which had eſcaped my attention, but which convinced me that ſhe was in the right. I thanked her for her obliging advice, and promiſed to follow it.
When we arrived at New-York, they informed me where they lodged, and invited me to come and ſee them. I did not however go, and it was well I did not; for the next day, the captain, miſſing a ſilver ſpoon and ſome other things which had been taken from the cabin, and knowing theſe women to be proſtitutes, procured a ​ſearch warrant, found the ſtolen goods them, and had them puniſhed. And thus, after having been ſaved from one rock concealed under water, upon which the veſſel ſtruck during our paſſage, I eſcaped another of a ſtill more dangerous nature.
At New-York I found my friend Collins, who had arrived ſome time before. We had been intimate from our infancy, and had read the ſame books together; but he had the advantage of being able to devote more time to reading and ſtudy, and an aſtoniſhing diſpoſition for mathematics, in which he left me far behind him. When at Boſton, I had been accuſtomed to paſs with him almoſt all my leiſure hours. He was then a ſober and induſtrious lad; his knowledge had gained him a very general eſteem, and he ſeemed to promiſe to make an advantageous figure in ſociety. But, during my abſence, he had unfortunately addicted himſelf to brandy, and I learned, as well from himſelf as from the report of others, that every day ſince his arrival at New-York he had been intoxicated, and had acted in a very extravagant manner. He had alſo played and loſt all his money; ſo that I was obliged to pay his expences at the inn, and to maintain him during the reſt of his journey; a burthen that was very inconvenient to me.
The governor of New-York, whoſe name was Burnet, hearing the captain ſay that a young man who was a paſſenger in his ſhip had a great number of books, begged him to bring me to his houſe. I accordingly went, and ſhould have taken Collins with me, had he been ſober. The governor treated me with great civility, ſhewed me his library, which was a very conſiderable one, and we talked ſome time upon books and authors. This was the ſecond governor who had ​honoured me with his attention; and to a poor boy, as I was then, theſe little adventures did not fail to be pleaſing.
We arrived at Philadelphia. On the way I received Vernon's money, without which we ſhould have been unable to finiſh our journey. Collins wiſhed to get employment as a merchant's clerk; but either his breath or his countenance betrayed his bad habit; for, though he had recommendations, he met with no ſucceſs, and continued to lodge and eat with me, and at my expence. Knowing that I had Vernon's money, he was continually aſking me to lend him ſome of it; promiſing to repay me as ſoon as he ſhould get employment. At laſt he had drawn ſo much of this money, that I was extremely alarmed at what might become of me, ſhould he fail to make good the deficiency. His habit of drinking did not at all diminiſh, and was a frequent ſource of diſcord between us; for when he had drank a little too much, he was very headſtrong.
Being one day in a boat together, on the Delaware, with ſome other young perſons, he reſuſed to take his turn in rowing. You ſhall row for me, ſaid he, till we get home.—No, I replied, we will not row for you.—You ſhall, ſaid he, or remain upon the water all night.—As you pleaſe.—Let us row, ſaid the reſt of the company; what ſignifies whether he aſſiſts or not? But, already angry with him for his conduct in other reſpects, I perſiſted in my refuſal. He then ſwore that he would make me row, or would throw me out of the boat; and he made up to me. As ſoon as he was within my reach I took him by the collar, gave him a violent thruſt, and threw him head foremoſt into the river. I knew that he was a good ſwimmer, and was therefore ​under no apprehenſions for his life. Before he could turn himſelf, we were able, by a few ſtrokes of our oars, to place ourſelves out of his reach; and whenever he touched the boat, we aſked him if he would row, ſtriking his hands at the ſame time with the oars to make him let go his hold. He was nearly ſuffocated with rage, but obſtinately refuſed making any promiſe to row. Perceiving at length that his ſtrength began to be exhauſted, we took him into the boat, and conveyed him home in the evening completely drenched. The utmoſt coldneſs ſubſiſted between us after this adventure. At laſt the captain of a Weft-India ſhip, who was commiſhioned to procure a tutor for the children of a gentleman at Barbadoes, meeting with Collins offered him the place. He accepted it, and took his leave of me, promiſing to discharge the debt he owed me with the firſt money he ſhould receive; but I have heard nothing of him ſince.
The violation of the truſt repoſed in me by Vernon, was one of the firſt great errors of my life; and it proves that my father was not miſtaken when he ſuppoſed me too young to be intruſted with the management of important affairs. But Sir William, upon reading his letter, thought him too prudent. There was a difference, he ſaid, between individuals: years of maturity were not always accompanied with diſcretion, neither was youth in every inſtance devoid of it. Since your father, added he, will not ſet you up in buſineſs, I will do it myſelf. Make out a liſt of what will be wanted from England, and I will ſend for the articles. You ſhall repay me when you can. I am determined to have a good printer here, and I am ſure you will ſucceed. This was ſaid with ſo much ſeeming cordiality, that I ſuſpected not for an inſtant the ſincerity of the ​offer. I had hitherto kept the project, with which Sir William had inſpired me, of ſettling in buſineſs, a ſecret at Philadelphia, and I ſtill continued to do ſo. Had my reliance on the governor been known, ſome friend, better acquainted with his character than myſelf, would doubtleſs have adviſed me not to truſt him; for I afterwards learned that he was univerſally known to be liberal of promiſes, which he had no intention to perform. But having never ſolicited him, how could I ſuppoſe his offers to be deceitful? On the contrary, I believed him to be the beſt man in the world.
I gave him an inventory of a ſmall printing-office; the expence of which I had calculated at about a hundred pounds ſterling. He expreſſed his approbation; but aſked, if my preſence in England, that I might chooſe the characters myſelf, and ſee that every article was good in its kind, would not be an advantage? You will alſo be able, ſaid he, to form ſome acquaintance there, and eſtabliſh a correſpondence with ſtationers and bookfellers. This I acknowledged was deſirable. That being the caſe, added he, hold yourſelf in readineſs to go with the Annis. This was the annual veſſel, and the only one, at that time, which made regular voyages between the ports of London and Philadelphia. But the Annis was not to ſail for ſome months. I therefore continued to work with Keimer, unhappy reſpecting the ſum which Collins had drawn from me, and almoſt in continual agony at the thoughts of Vernon, who fortunately made no demand of his money till ſeveral years after.
In the account of my firſt voyage from Boſton to Philadelphia, I omitted I believe a trifling circumſtance, which will not perhaps be out of place here. During a calm which ſtopped us above ​Block-Iſland, the crew employed themſelves in fiſhing for cod, of which they caught a great number. I had hitherto adhered to my resolution of not eating any thing that had poſſeſſed life; and I conſidered on this occaſion, agreeably to the maxims of my maſter Tryon, the capture of every fiſh as a ſort of murder, committed without provocation, ſince theſe animals had neither done, nor were capable of doing, the ſmalleſt injury to any one that ſhould juſtify the meaſure. This mode of reaſoning I conceived to be unanſwerable. Meanwhile I had formerly been extremely fond of fiſh; and when one of theſe cod was taken out of the frying-pan, I thought its flavour delicious. I heſitated ſome time between principle and inclination, till at laſt recollecting, that when the cod had been opened ſome ſmall fiſh were found in its belly, I ſaid to myſelf, If you eat one another, I ſee no reaſon why we may not eat you. I accordingly dined on the cod with no ſmall degree of pleaſure, and have ſince continued to eat like the reſt of mankind, returning only occaſionally to my vegetable plan. How convenient does it prove to be a rational animal, that knows how to find or invent a plauſible pretext for whatever it has an inclination to do!
I continued to live upon good terms with Keimer, who had not the ſmalleſt ſuſpicion of my projected eſtabliſhment. He ſtill retained a portion of his former enthuſiaſm; and being fond of argument, we frequently diſputed together. I was ſo much in the habit of uſing my Socratic method, and had ſo frequently puzzled him by my queſtions, which appeared at firſt very diſtant from the point in debate, yet nevertheleſs led to it by degrees, involving him in difficulties and contradictions from which he was unable to ​extricate himſelf, that he became at laſt ridiculouſly cautions, and would ſcarcely anſwer the moſt plain and familiar queſtion without previouſly aſking me—What would you infer from that? Hence he formed ſo high an opinion of my talents for refutation, that he ſeriouiſly propoſed to me to become his colleague in the eſtabliſhment of a new religious ſect. He was to propagate the doctrine by preaching, and I to refute every opponent.
When he explained to me his tenets, I found many abſurdities which I refuſed to admit, unleſs he would agree in turn to adopt ſome of my opinions. Keimer wore his beard long, becauſe Moſes had ſomewhere ſaid, Thou ſhalt not mar the corners of thy beard. He likewiſe obſerved the Sabbath; and theſe were with him two very eſſential points. I diſliked them both; but I conſented to adopt them, provided he would agree to abſtain from animal food. I doubt, ſaid he, whether my conſtitution will be able to ſupport it. I aſſured him, on the contrary, that he would find himſelf the better for it. He was naturally a glutton, and I wiſhed to amuſe myſelf by ſtarving him. He conſented to make trial of this regimen, if I would bear him company; and in reality we continued it for three months. A woman in the neighbourhood prepared and brought us our victuals, to whom I gave a liſt of forty diſhes; in the compoſition of which there entered neither fleſh nor fiſh. This fancy was the more agreeable to me, as it turned to good account; for the whole expence of our living did not exceed for each eighteen-pence a week.
I have ſince that period obſerved ſeveral Lents with the greateſt ſtrictneſs, and have ſuddenly returned again to my ordinary diet, without experiencing the ſmalleſt inconvenience; which has ​led me to regard as of no importance the advice commonly given, of introducing gradually ſuch alterations of regimen.
I continued it cheerfully; but poor Keimer ſuffered terribly. Tired of the project, he ſighed for the fleſh-pots of Egypt. At length he ordered a roaſt pig, and invited me and two of our female acquaintance to dine with him; but the pig being ready a little too ſoon, he could not reſiſt the temptation, and eat it all up before we arrived.
During the circumſtances I have related, I had paid ſome attentions to Miſs Read. I entertained for her the utmoſt eſteem and affection; and I had reaſon to believe that theſe ſentiments were mutual. But we were both young, ſcarcely more than eighteen years of age; and as I was on the point of undertaking a long voyage, her mother thought it prudent to prevent matters being carried too far for the preſent, judging that, if marriage was our object, there would be more propriety in it after my return, when, as at leaſt I expected, I ſhould be eſtabliſhed in my buſineſs. Perhaps alſo ſhe thought that my expectations were not ſo well founded as I imagined.
My moſt intimate acquaintance at this time were Charles Oſborne, Joſeph Watſon, and James Ralph; young men who were all fond of reading. The two firſt were clerks to Mr. Charles Brockdon, one of the principal attornies in the town, and the other clerk to a merchant. Watſon was an upright, pious and ſenſible young man: the others were ſomewhat more looſe in their principles of religion, particularly Ralph, whoſe faith, as well as that of Collins, I had contributed to ſhake; each of whom made me ſuffer a very adequate puniſhment. Oſborne was ​ſenſible, and ſincere and affectionate in his friendſhips, but too much inclined to the critic in matters of literature. Ralph was ingenious and ſhrewd, genteel in his addreſs, and extremely eloquent. I do not remember to have met with a more agreeable ſpeaker. They were both enamoured of the muſes, and had already evinced their paſſion by ſome ſmall poetical productions.
It was a cuſtom with us to take a charming walk on Sundays, in the woods that border the Skuylkil. Here we read together, and afterwards converſed on what we read. Ralph was diſpoſed to give himſelf up entirely to poetry. He flattered himſelf that he ſhould arrive at great eminence in the art, and even acquire a fortune. The ſublimeſt poets, he pretended, when they firſt began to write, committed as many faults as himſelf. Oſborne endeavoured to diſſuade him, by aſſuring him that he had no genius for poetry, and adviſed him to ſtick to the trade in which he had been brought up. In the road of commerce, ſaid he, you will be ſure, by diligence and aſſiduity, though you have no capital, of ſo far ſucceeding as to be employed as a factor, and may thus, in time, acquire the means of ſetting tip for yourſelf. I concurred in theſe ſentiments, but at the ſame time expreſſed my approbation of amuſing ourſelves ſometimes with poetry, with a view to improve our ſtyle. In conſequence of this it was propoſed, that, at our next meeting, each of us ſhould bring a copy of verſes of his own compoſition. Our object in this competition was to benefit each other by our mutual remarks, criticiſms, and corrections; and as ſtyle and expreſſion were all we had in view, we excluded every idea of invention, by agreeing that our taſk ſhould be a verſion of the eighteenth pſalm, in which is deſcribed the deſcent of the deity.
​The time of our meeting drew near, when Ralph called upon me, and told me that his performance was ready. I informed him that I had been idle, and, not much liking the talk, had done nothing. He ſhowed me his piece, and aſked what I thought of it. I expreſſed myſelf in terms of warm approbation; becauſe it really appeared to have conſiderable merit. He then ſaid: Oſborne will never acknowledge the ſmalleſt degree of excellence in any production of mine. Envy alone dictates to him a thouſand animadverſions. Of you he is not ſo jealous: I wiſh therefore you would take the verſes, and produce them as your own. I will pretend not to have had leiſure to write any thing. We ſhall then ſee in what manner he will ſpeak of them. I agreed to this little artifice, and immediately tranſcribed the verſes to prevent all ſuſpicion.
We met. Watſon's performance was the firſt that was read. It had ſome beauties, but many faults. We next read Oſborne's, which was much better. Ralph did it juſtice, remarking a few imperfections, and applauding ſuch parts as were excellent. He had himſelf nothing to ſhow It was now my turn. I made ſome difficulty; ſeemed as if I wiſhed to be excuſed; pretended that I had had no time to make corrections, &c. No excuſe, however, was admiſſible, and the piece muſt be produced. It was read and re-read. Watſon and Oſborne immediately resigned the palm, and united in applauding it. Ralph alone made a few remarks, and propoſed ſome alterations; but I defended my text. Oſborne agreed with me, and told Ralph that he was no more able to criticiſe than he was able to write.
When Oſborne was alone with me, he expreſſed himſelf ſtill more ſtrongly in favour of what he conſidered as my performance. He pretended ​that he had put ſome reſtraint on himſelf before, apprehenſive of my conſtruing his commendation into flattery. But who would have ſuppoſed, ſaid he, Franklin to be capable of ſuch a compoſition? What painting, what energy, what fire! He has ſurpaſſed the original. In his common converſation he appears not to have a choice of words; he heſitates, and is at a loſs: and yet, good God, how he writes!
At our next meeting Ralph diſcovered the trick we had played Oſborne, who was rallied without mercy.
By this adventure Ralph was fixed in his reſolution of becoming a poet. I left nothing unattempted to divert him from his purpoſe; but he perſevered, till at laſt the reading of Pope effected his cure: he became, however, a very tolerable proſe writer. I ſhall ſpeak more of him hereafter; but as I ſhall probably have no farther occaſion to mention the other two, I ought to obſerve here, that Watſon died a few years after in my arms. He was greatly regretted; for he was the bell of our ſociety. Oſborne went to the iſlands, where he gained conſiderable reputation as a barriſter, and was getting money; but he died young. We had ſeriouſly engaged, that whoever died firſt ſhould return, if poſſible, and pay a friendly viſit to the ſurvivor, to give him an account of the other world; but he has never fulfilled his engagement.
The governor appeared to be fond of my company, and frequently invited me to his houſe. He always ſpoke of his intention of ſettling me in buſineſs, as a point that was decided. I was ​to take with me letters of recommendation to a number of his friends; and particularly a letter of credit, in order to obtain the neceſſary ſum for the purchaſe of my preſs, types, and paper. He appointed various times for me to come for theſe letters, which would certainly be ready; and when I came, always put me off to another day.
Theſe ſucceſſive delays continued till the veſſel, whoſe departure had been ſeveral times deferred, was on the point of ſetting ſail; when I again went to Sir William's houſe, to receive my letters and take leave of him. I ſaw his ſecretary, Dr. Bard; who told me that the governor was extremely buſy writing, but that he would be down at Newcaftle before the veſſel, and that the letters would be delivered to me there.
Ralph, though he was married and had a child, determined to accompany me in this voyage. His object was ſuppoſed to be the eſtabliſhing a correspondence with ſome mercantile houſes, in order to ſell goods by commiſſion; but I afterwards learned, that, having reaſon to be diſſatisfied with the parents of his wife, he propoſed to himſelf to leave her on their hands, and never return to America again.
Having taken leave of my friends, and interchanged promiſes of fidelity with Miſs Read, I quitted Philadelphia. At Newcaſtle the veſſel came to anchor. The governor was arrived, and I went to his lodgings. His ſecretary received me with great civility, told me on the part of the governor that he could not ſee me then, as he was engaged in affairs of the utmoſt importance, but that he would ſend the letters on board, and that he wiſhed me, with all his heart, a good voyage and ſpeedy return. I returned, ſomewhat aſtoniſhed, to the ſhip, but ſtill without entertaining the ſlighteſt ſuſpicion.
​Mr. Hamilton, a celebrated barriſter of Philadelphia, had taken a paſſage to England for himſelf and his ſon, and, in conjunction with Mr. Denham a quaker, and Meſſrs. Oniam and Ruſſel, proprietors of a forge in Maryland, had agreed for the whole cabin, ſo that Ralph and I were obliged to take up our lodging with the crew. Being unknown to every body in the ſhip, we were looked upon as of the common order of people: but Mr. Hamilton and his ſon (it was James, who was afterwards governor) left us at Newcaſtle, and returned to Philadelphia, where he was recalled, at a very great expence, to plead the cauſe of a veſſel that had been ſeized; and juſt as we were about to ſail, colonel Finch came on board, and ſhewed me many civilities. The paſſengers upon this paid me more attention, and I was invited, together with my friend Ralph, to occupy the place in the cabin which the return of the Mr. Hamilton’s had made vacant; an offer which we very readily accepted.
Having learned that the diſpatches of the governor had been brought on board by colonel Finch, I aſked the captain for the letters that were to be intruſted to my care, he told me that they were all put together in the bag, which he could not open at preſent; but before we reached England, he would give me an opportunity of taking them out. I was ſatisfied with this anſwer, and we purſued our voyage.
The company in the cabin were all very ſociable, and we were perfectly well off as to proviſions, as we had the advantage of the whole of Mr. Hamilton's, who had laid in a very plentiful ſtock. During the paſſage Mr. Denham contracted a friendſhip for me, which ended only with his life: in other reſpects the voyage was ​by no means an agreeable one, as we had much bad weather.
When we arrived in the river, the captain was as good as his word, and allowed me to ſearch in the bag for the governor's letters. I could not find a ſingle one with my name written on it, as committed to my care; but I ſelected ſix or ſeven, which I judged from the direction to be thoſe that were intended for me; particularly one to Mr. Baſket the king's printer, and another to a ſtationer, who was the firſt perſon I called upon. I delivered him the letter as coming from governor Keith. "I have no acquaintance (ſaid he) with any ſuch perſon;" and opening the letter, "Oh, it is from Riddleſden!" he exclaimed. "I have lately diſcovered him to be a very arrant knave, and I wiſh to have nothing to do either with him or his letters." He inſtantly put the letter in my hand, turned upon his heel, and left me to ſerve ſome cuſtomers.
I was aſtoniſhed at finding theſe letters were not from the governor. Reflecting, and putting circumſtances together, I then began to doubt his ſincerity. I rejoined my friend Denham, and related the whole affair to him. He let me at once into Keith’s character, told me there was not the leaſt probability of his having written a ſingle letter; that no one who knew him ever placed any reliance on him, and laughed at my credulity in ſuppoſing that the governor would give me a letter of credit, when he had no credit for himſelf. As I ſhowed ſome uneaſineſs reſpecting what ſtep I ſhould take, he adviſed me to try to get employment in the houſe of ſome printer. You may there, ſaid he, improve yourſelf in buſineſs, and you will be able to ſettle yourſelf the more advantageouſly when you return to America.
​We knew already, as well as the ſtationer, attorney Riddleſden to be a knave. He had nearly ruined the father of Miſs Read, by drawing him in to be his ſecurity. We learned from his letter, that he was ſecretly carrying on an intrigue, in concert with the governor, to the prejudice of Mr. Hamilton, who it was ſuppoſed would by this time be in Europe. Denham, who was Hamilton's friend, was of opinion that he ought to be made acquainted with it; and in reality, the inſtant he arrived in England, which was very ſoon after, I waited on him, and, as much from good-will to him as from ſefentment againſt the governor, put the letter into his hands. He thanked me very ſincerely, the information it contained being of conſequence to him; and from that moment beſtowed on me his friendſhip, which afterwards proved on many occasions ſerviceable to me.
But what are we to think of a governor who could play ſo ſcurvy a trick, and thus groſsly deceive a poor young lad, wholly deſtitute of experience? It was a practice with him. Wiſhing to pleaſe every body, and having little to beſtow, he was laviſh of promiſes. He was in other reſpects ſenſible and judicious, a very tolerable writer, and a good governor for the people; though not ſo for the proprietaries, whoſe inſtructions he frequently diſregarded. Many of our beſt laws were his work, and eſtabliſhed during his adminiſtration.
Ralph and I were inſeparable companions. We took a lodging together at three and-ſixpence a week, which was as much as we could afford. He met with ſome relations in London, but they were poor, and not able to aſſiſt him. He now, for the firſt time, informed me of his intention to remain in England, and that he had no ​thoughts of ever returning to Philadelphia. He was totally without money; the little he had been able to raiſe having barely ſufficed for his paſſage. I had fifteen piſtoles remaining; and to me he had from time to time recourſe, while he tried to get employment.
At firſt, believing himſelf poſſeſſed of talents for the ſtage, he thought of turning actor; but Wilkes, to whom he applied, frankly adviſed him to renounce the. idea, as it was impoſſible he ſhould ſucceed. He next propoſed to Roberts, a bookſeller in Paternoſter-row, to write a weekly paper in the manner of the Spectator, upon terms to which Roberts would not liſten. Laſtly, he endeavoured to procure employment as a copyiſt, and applied to the lawyers and ſtationers about the temple; but he could find no vacancy.
As to myſelf, I immediately got engaged at Palmer's, at that time a noted printer in Bartholomew Cloſe, with whom I continued nearly a year. I applied very aſſiduouſly to my work; but I expended with Ralph almoſt all that I earned. Plays, and other places of amuſement which we frequented together, having exhauſted my piſtoles, we lived after this from hand to mouth. He appeared to have entirely forgotten his wife and child, as I alſo, by degrees, forgot my engagements with Miſs Read, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that merely to Inform her that I was not likely to return ſoon. This was another grand error of my life, which I ſhould be deſirous of correcting were I to begin my career again.
I was employed at Palmer's on the ſecond edition of Woolaſton's Religion of Nature. Some of his arguments appearing to me not to be well founded, I wrote a ſmall metaphyſical treatiſe, in which I animadverted on thoſe paſſages. It ​was entitled, a Diſſertation on Liberty and Neceſſity, Pleaſure and Pain. I dedicated it to my friend Ralph, and printed a ſmall number of copies. Palmer upon this treated me with more conſideration, and regarded me as a young man of talents; though he ſeriouſly took me to talk for the principles of my pamphlet, which he looked upon as abominable. The printing of this work was another error of my life.
While I lodged in Little Britain I formed acquaintance with a bookſeller of the name of Wilcox, whoſe ſhop was next door to me. Circulating libraries were not then in uſe. He had an immenſe collection of books of all ſorts. We agreed that, for a reaſonable retribution, of which I have now forgotten the price, I ſhould have free acceſs to his library, and take what books I pleaſed, which I was to return when I had read them, I conſidered this agreement as a very great advantage; and I derived from it as much benefit as was in my power.
My pamphlet falling into the hands of a ſurgeon, of the name of Lyons, author of a book entitled, Infallibility of Human Judgment, was the occaſion of a conſiderable intimacy between us. He expreſſed great eſteem for me, came frequently to ſee me, in order to converſe upon metaphyſical ſubjects, and introduced me to Dr. Mandeville, author of the Fable of Bees, who had inſtituted a club at a tavern in Cheapſide, of which he was the ſoul: he was a facetious and very amuſing character. He alſo introduced me, at Batſon's coffee-houſe, to Dr. Pemberton, who promiſed to give me an opportunity of ſeeing Sir Iſaac Newton, which I very ardently deſired; but he never kept his word.
I had brought fſme curioſities with me from America; the principal of which was a purſe made of the. aſbeſtos, which fire only purifies. ​Sir Hans Sloane hearing of it, called upon me, and invited me to his houſe in Bloomſbury-ſquare, where, after ſhowing me every thing that was curious, he prevailed on me to add this piece to his collection; for which he paid me very handſomely.
There lodged in the fame houſe with us a young woman, a milliner, who had a ſhop by the ſide of the Exchange. Lively and ſenſible, and having received an education ſomewhat above her rank, her converſation was very agreeable. Ralph read plays to her every evening. They became intimate. She took another lodging, and he followed her. They lived for ſome time together; but Ralph being without employment, ſhe having a child, and the profits of her buſineſs not ſuſſicing for the maintenance of three, he reſolved to quit London, and try a country ſchool. This was a plan in which he thought himſelf likely to ſucceed, as he wrote a fine hand, and was verſed in arithmetic and accounts. But conſidering the office as beneath him, and expecting ſome day to make a better figure in the world, when he ſhould be aſhamed of its being known that he had exerciſed a profeſſion ſo little honourable, he changed his name, and did me the honour of aſſuming mine. He wrote to me ſoon after his departure, informing me that he was ſettled at a ſmall village in Berkſhire. In his letter he recommended Mrs. T***, the milliner, to my care, and requeſted an anſwer, directed to Mr. Franklin, ſchool-mafter at N***.
He continued to write to me frequently, ſending me large fragments of an epic poem he was compoſing, and which he requeſted me to criticiſe and correct. I did ſo, but not without endeavouring to prevail on him to renounce this purſuit. Young had juſt publiſhed one of his ​Satires. I copied and ſent him a great part of it; in which the author demonſtrates the folly of cultivating the Muſes, from the hope, by their inſtrumentality, of riſing in the world. It was all to no purpoſe; paper after paper of his poem continued to arrive every poſt.
Meanwhile Mrs, T*** having loſt, on his ac- count, both her friends and her buſineſs, was frequently in diſtreſs. In this dilemma ſhe had recourſe to me; and to extricate her from her difficulties, I lent her all the money I could ſpare. I felt a little too much fondneſs for her. Having at that time no ties of religion, and taking advantage of her neceſſitous ſituation, I attempted liberties (another error of my life,) which ſhe repelled with becoming indignation. She informed Ralph of my conduct; and the affair occaſioned a breach between us. When he returned to London, he gave me to underſtand that he conſidered all the obligations he owed me as annihilated by this proceeding; whence I concluded that I was never to expect the payment of what money I had lent him, or advanced on his account. I was the leſs afflicted at this, as he was wholly unable to pay me; and as, by loſing his friendſhip, I was relieved at the ſame time from a very heavy burden.
I now began to think of laying by ſome money. The printing-houſe of Watts, near Lincoln’s-Inn Fields, being a ſtill more conſiderable one than that in which I worked, it was probable I might find it more advantageous to be employed there. I offered myſelf, and was accepted; and in this houſe I continued during the remainder of my ſtay in London.
On my entrance I worked at firſt as a preſſman, conceiving that I had need of bodily exerciſe, to which I had been accuſtomed in America, ​where the printers work alternately as compoſitors and at the preſſ. I drank nothing but water. The other workmen, to the number of about fifty, were great drinkers of beer. I carried occaſionally a large form of letters in each hand, up and down ſtairs, while the reſt employed both hands to carry one. They were ſurprized to ſee, by this and many other examples, that the American Aquatic, as they uſed to call me, was ſtronger than thoſe who drank porter. The beer-boy had ſufficient employment during the whole day in ſerving that houſe alone. My fellow-preſſman drank every day a pint of beer before breakfaſt, a pint with bread and cheeſe for breakfaſt, one between breakfaſt and dinner, one at dinner, one again about ſix o'clock in the afternoon, and another after he had finiſhed his day's work. This cuſtom appeared to me abominable; but he had need, he ſaid, of all this beer, in order to acquire ſtrength to work.
I endeavoured to convince him that the bodily ſtrength furniſhed by the beer, could only be in proportion to the ſolid part of the barley diſſolved in the water of which the beer was compoſed; that there was a larger portion of flour in a penny loaf, and that conſequently if he eat this loaf, and drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more ſtrength from it than from a pint of beer. This reaſoning, however, did not prevent him from drinking his accuſtomed quantity of beer, and paying every Saturday night a ſcore of four or five ſhillings a week for this curſed beverage; an expence from which I was wholly exempt. Thus do theſe poor devils continue all their lives in a ſtate of voluntary wretchedneſs and poverty.
At the end of a few weeks, Watts having occaſion for me above ſtairs as a compoſitor, I ​quitted the preſs. The compoſitors demanded of me garniſh-money afreſh. This I considered as an impoſition, having already paid below. The maſter was of the ſame opinion, and deſired me not to comply. I thus remained two or three weeks out of the fraternity. I was conſequently looked upon as excommunicated; and whenever I was abſent, no little trick that malice could ſuggeſt was left unpractiſed upon me I found my letters mixed, my pages tranſpoſed, my matter broken, &c. &c. all which Was attributed to the ſpirit that haunted the chapel, and tormented thoſe who were not regularly admitted. I was at laſt obliged to ſubmit to pay, notwithſtanding the protection of the maſter; convinced of the folly of not keeping up a good underſtanding with thoſe among whom we are deſtined to live.
After this I lived in the utmoſt harmony with my fellow-labourers, and ſoon acquired conſiderable influence among them. I propoſed ſome alterations in the laws of the chapel, which I carried without oppoſition. My example prevailed with ſeveral of them to renounce their abominable practice of bread and cheeſe with beer; and they procured, like me, from a neighbouring houſe, a good baſon of warm gruel, in which was a ſmall ſlice of butter, with toaſted bread and nutmeg. This was a much better breakfaſt, which did not coſt more than a pint of beer, namely, three-halfpence, and at the ſame time preſerved the head clearer. Thoſe who continued to gorge themſelves with beer, often loſt their credit with the publican, from neglecting to pay their ſcore. They had then recourſe to me, to become ſecurity for them; their light, as they ​uſed to call it, being out. I attended at the pay-table every Saturday evening, to take up the little ſum which I had made myſelf anſwerable for; and which amounted to nearly thirty ſhillings a week.
This circumſtance, added to my reputation of being a tolerable good gabber, or, in other words, ſkilful in the art of burleſque, kept up my importance in the chapel. I had beſides recommended myſelf to the eſteem of my maſter by my aſſiduous application to buſineſs, never obſerving Saint Monday. My extraordinary quickneſs in compoſing always procured me ſuch work as was moſt urgent, and which is commonly beſt paid; and thus my time parted away in a very pleaſant manner.
My lodging in Little Britain being too far from the printing-houſe, I took another in Duke-ſtreet oppoſite the Roman Catholic chapel. It was at the back of an Italian warehouſe. The houſe was kept by a widow, who had a daughter, a ſervant, and a ſhop-boy; but the latter ſlept out of the houſe. After ſending to the people with whom I lodged in Little Britain, to enquire into my character, ſhe agreed to take me in at the ſame price, three-and-ſixpence a week; contenting herſelf, ſhe ſaid, with ſo little, becauſe of the ſecurity ſhe ſhould derive, as they were all women, from having a man lodge in the houſe. She was a woman rather advanced in life, the daughter of a clergyman. She had been educated a Proteſtant; but her huſband, whoſe memory ſhe highly revered, had converted her to the Catholic religion. She had lived in habits of intimacy with perſons of diſtinction; of whom ſhe knew various anecdotes as far back as the time of Charles II. Being ſubject to fits of the gout, which often confined her to her room, ſhe was ſometimes diſpoſed to ſee company, Hers ​was ſo amuſing to me, that I was glad to paſs the evening with her as often as ſhe deſired it. Our ſupper conſiſted only of half an anchovy a piece, upon a ſlice of bread and butter, with half a pint of ale between us. But the entertainment was in her converſation.
The early hours I kept, and the little trouble I occaſioned in the family, made her loth to part with me; and when I mentioned another lodging I had found, nearer the printing-houſe, at two ſhillings a week, which fell in with my plan of ſaving, ſhe perſuaded me to give it up, making herſelf an abatement of two ſhillings: and thus I continued to lodge with her, during the remainder of my abode in London, at eighteen-pence a week.
In a garret of the houſe there lived, in the moſt retired manner, a lady ſeventy years of age, of whom I received the following account from my landlady. She was a Roman Catholic. In her early years ſhe had been ſent to the continent, and entered a convent with the deſign of becoming a nun; but the climate not agreeing with her conſtitution, me was obliged to return to England, where, as there were no monaſteries, ſhe made a vow to lead a monaſtic life, in as rigid a manner as circumſtances would permit. She accordingly diſpoſed of all her property to be applied to charitable uſes, reſerving to herſelf only twelve pounds a yearſ; and of this ſmall pittance ſhe gave a part to the poor, living on water-gruel, and never making uſe of fire but to boil it. She had lived in this garret a great many years, without paying rent to the ſucceſſive Catholic inhabitants that had kept the houſe; who indeed conſidered her abode with them as a bleſſing. A prieſt came every day to confeſs her. I have aſked her, ſaid my landlady, how, living as ſhe did, ſhe could find ſo much employment for a confeſſor? To ​which ſhe anſwered, that it was impoſſible to avoid vain thoughts.
I was once permitted to viſit her. She was cheerful and polite, and her converſation agreeable. Her apartment was neat; but the whole furniture conſiſted of a mattreſs, a table, on which were a crucifix and a book, a chair, which ſhe gave me to ſit on, and over the mantlepiece a picture of St. Veronica diſplaying her handkerchief, on which was ſeen the miraculous impreſſion of the face of Chriſt, which ſhe explained to me with great gravity. Her countenance was pale, but ſhe had never experienced ſickneſs; and I may adduce her as another proof how little is ſufficient to maintain life and health.
At the printing-houſe I contracted an intimacy with a ſenſible young man of the name of Wygate, who, as his parents were in good circumſtances, had received a better education than is common with printers. He was a tolerable Latin ſcholar, ſpoke French fluently, and was fond of reading. I taught him, as well as a friend of his, to ſwim, by taking them twice only into the river; after which they ſtood in need of no farther aſſiſtance. We one day made a party to go by water to Chelſea, in order to ſee the College, and Don Saltero's curioſities. On our return, at the requeſt of the company, whoſe curioſity Wygate had excited, I undreſſed myſelf, and leaped into the river. I ſwam from near Chelſea the whole way to Blackfriars Bridge, exhibiting, during my courſe, a variety of feats of activity and addreſs, both upon the ſurface of the water as well as under it. This ſight occaſioned much aſtoniſhment and pleaſure to thoſe to whom it was new. In my youth I took great delight in this exerciſe. I knew, and could execute, all the evolutions and poſitions of ​Thevenot; and I added to them ſome of my own invention, in which I endeavoured to unite gracefulneſs and utility. I took a pleaſure in displaying them all on this occaſion, and was highly flattered with the admiration they excited.
Wygate, beſides his being deſirous of perfecting himſelf in this art, was the more attached to me from there being, in other reſpects, a conformity in our taſtes and ſtudies. He at length propoſed to me to make the tour of Europe with him, maintaining ourſelves at the ſame time by working at our profeſſion. I was on the point of conſenting, when I mentioned it to my friend Mr. Denham, with whom I was glad to paſs an hour whenever I had leiſure. He diſſuaded me from the project, and adviſed me to think of returning to Philadelphia, which he was about to do himſelf. I muſt relate in this place a trait of this worthy man's character.
He had formerly been in buſineſs at Briſtol, but failing, he compounded with his creditors, and departed for America, where, by aſſiduous application as a merchant, he acquired in a few years a very conſiderable fortune. Returning to England in the ſame veſſel with myſelf, as I have related above, he invited all his old creditors to a feaſt. When aſſembled, he thanked them for the readineſs with which they had received his ſmall competition; and, while they expected nothing more than a ſimple entertainment, each found under his plate, when it came to be removed, a draft upon a banker for the reſidue of his debt, with intereſt.
He told me that it was his intention to carry back with him to Philadelphia a great quantity of goods, in order to open a ſtore; and he offered to take me with him in the capacity of ​clerk, to keep his books, in which he would inſtruct me, copy letters, and ſuperintend the ſtore. He added that, as ſoon as I had acquired a knowledge of mercantile tranſactions he would improve my ſituation, by ſending me with a cargo of corn and flour to the American iſlands, and by procuring me other lucrative commiſſions; ſo that, with good management and œconomy, I might in time begin buſineſs with advantage for myſelf.
I reliſhed theſe propoſals, London began to tire me; the agreeable hours I had paſſed at Philadelphia preſented themſelves to my mind, and I wiſhed to ſee them revive. I conſequently engaged myſelf to Mr. Denham, at a ſalary of fifty pounds a-year. This was indeed leſs than I earned as a compoſitor, but then I had a much fairer proſpect. I took leave therefore, as I believed for ever, of printing, and gave myſelf up entirely to my new occupation, ſpending all my time either in going from houſe to houſe with Mr. Denham to purchaſe goods, or in packing them up, or in expediting the workmen, &c. &c. When every thing however was on board, I had at laſt a few days leiſure.
During this interval, I was one day ſent for by a gentleman, whom I knew only by name, It was Sir William Wyndham. I went to his houſe. He had by ſome means heard of my performances between Chelſea and Blackfriars. and that I had taught the art of ſwimming to Wygate and another young man in the courſe of a few hours. His two ſons were on the point of ſetting out on their travels; he was deſirous that they ſhould previouſly learn to ſwim, and offered me a very liberal reward if I would undertake to inſtruct them. They were not yet arrived in town, and the ſtay I ſhould make ​myſelf was uncertain; I could not therefore accept his propoſal. I was led however to ſuppoſe from this incident, that if I had wiſhed to remain in London, and open a ſwimming ſchool, I ſhould perhaps have gained a great deal of money. This idea ſtruck me ſo forcibly, that, had the offer been made ſooner, I ſhould have diſmiſſed the thought of returning as yet to America. Some years after, you and I had a more important buſineſs to ſettle with one of the ſons of Sir William Wyndham, then Lord Egremont. But let us not anticipate events.
I thus paſſed about eighteen months in London, working almoſt without intermiſſion at my trade, avoiding all expence on my own account, except going now and then to the play, and purchaſing a few books. But my friend Ralph kept me poor. He owed me about twenty-ſeven pounds, which was ſo much money loſt; and when conſidered as taken from my little ſavings, was a very great ſum. I had, notwithſtanding this, a regard for him, as he poſſeſſed many amiable qualities. But tho’ I had done nothing for myſelf in point of fortune, I had increaſed my ſtock of knowledge, either by the many excellent books I had read, or the converſation of learned and literary perſons with whom I was acquainted.
We ſailed from Graveſend the 23d of July 1726. For the incidents of my voyage I refer you to my Journal, where you will find all its circumſtances minutely related. We landed at Philadelphia on the 11th of the following October.
Keith had been deprived of his office of governor, and was ſucceeded by Major Gordon. I met him walking in the ſtreets as a private individual. He appeared a little aſhamed at ſeeing me, but paſſed on without ſaying any thing.
​I ſhould have been equally aſhamed myſelf a meeting Miſs Read, had not her family, juſtly deſpairing of my return after reading my letter, adviſed her to give me up, and marry a potter, of the name of Rogers; to which ſhe conſented: but he never made her happy, and ſhe ſoon ſeparated from him, refuſing to cohabit with him or even bear his name, on account of a report which prevailed, of his having another wife. His ſkill in his profeſſion had ſeduced Miſs Read's parents; but he was as bad a ſubject as he was excellent as a workman. He involved himſelf in debt, and fled, in the year 1727 or 1728, to the Weſt Indies, where he died.
During my abſence Keimer had taken a more conſiderable houſe, in which he kept a ſhop, that was well ſupplied with paper, and various other articles. He had procured ſome new types, and a number of workmen; among whom, however, there was not one who was good for any thing; and he appeared not to want buſineſs.
Mr. Denham took a warehouſe in Water-ſtreet, where we exhibited our commodities. I applied myſelf cloſely, ſtudied accounts, and became in a ſhort time very expert in trade. We lodged and eat 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 twenty-ſecond year, we were both taken ill. I was attacked with a pleuriſy, which had nearly carried me off; I ſuffered terribly, and conſidered it as all over with me. I felt indeed a ſort of disappointment when I found myſelf likely to recover, and regretted that I had ſtill to experience, ſooner or later, the ſame diſagreeable ſcene again.
​I have forgotten what was Mr. Denham's diſorder; but it was a tedious one, and he at laſt ſunk under it. He left me a ſmall legacy in his will, as a teſtimony of his friendship; and I was once more abandoned to myſelf in the wide world, the warehouſe being confided to the care of the teſtamentary executor, who diſmiſſed me.
My brother-in-law, Holmes, who happened to be at Philadelphia, adviſed me to return to my former profeſſion; and Keimer offered me a very conſiderable ſalary if I would undertake the management of his printing-office, that he might devote himſelf entirely to the ſuperintendence of his ſhop. His wife and relations in London had given me a bad character of him; and I was loth, for the preſent, to have any concern with him. I endeavoured to get employment as a clerk to a merchant; but not readily finding a ſituation, I was induced to accept Keimer's propoſal.
The following were the perſons I found in his printing-houſe.
Hugh Meredith, a Penſylvanian, about thirty five years of age. He had been brought up to huſbandry, was honeſt, ſenſible, had ſome experience, and was fond of reading; but too much addicted to drinking.
Stephen Potts, a young ruſtic, juſt broke from ſchool, and of ruſtic education, with endowments rather above the common order, and a competent portion of underſtanding and gaiety; but a little idle. Keimer had engaged theſe two at very low wages, which he had promiſed to raiſe every three months a ſhilling a week, provided their improvement in the typographic art ſhould merit it. This future increaſe of wages was the bait he made uſe of to enſnare them. ​Meredith was to work at the preſs, and Potts to bind books, which he had engaged to teach them, though he underſtood neither himſelf.
John Savage, an Iriſhman, who had been brought up to no trade, and whoſe ſervice, for a period of four years, Keimer had purchaſed of the captain of a ſhip. He was alſo to be a preſſman.
George Webb, an Oxford ſcholar, whoſe time
he had in like manner bought for four years, intending him for a compoſitor. I ſhall ſpeak more of him preſently.
Laſtly, David Harry, a country lad, who was apprenticed to him.
I ſoon perceived that Keimer's intention, in engaging me at a price ſo much above what he was accuſtomed to give, was, that I might form all theſe raw journeymen and apprentices, who ſcarcely coſt him any thing, and who, being indentured, would, as ſoon as they ſhould be ſufficiently inſtructed, enable him to do without me. I nevertheleſs adhered to my agreement. I put the office in order, which was in the utmoſt confuſion, and brought his people, by degrees, to pay attention to their work, and to execute it in a more maſterly ſtyle.
It was ſingular to ſee an Oxford ſcholar in the condition of a purchaſed ſervant. He was not more than eighteen years of age; and the following are the particulars he gave me of himſelf. Born at Glouceſter, he had been educated at a grammar ſchool, and had diſtinguiſhed himſelf among the ſcholars by his ſuperior ſtyle of acting, when they repreſented dramatic performances. He was member of a literary club in the town; and ſome pieces of his compoſition, in proſe as well as in verſe, had been inſerted in the Glouceſter papers. From hence he was ſent to ​Oxford, where he remained about a year; but he was not contented, and wiſhed above all things to ſee London, and become an actor. At length, having received fifteen guineas to pay his quarter's board, he decamped with the money from Oxford, hid his gown in a hedge, and travelled to London. There, having no friend to direct him, he fell into bad company, ſoon ſquandered his fifteen guineas, could find no way of being introduced to the actors, became contemptible, pawned his clothes, and was in want of bread. As he was walking along the ſtreets, almoſt famiſhed with hunger, and not knowing what to do, a recruiting bill was put into his hand, which offered an immediate treat and bounty-money to whoever was difpoſed to ſerve in America. He inſtantly repaired to the houſe of rendezvous, inliſted himſelf, was put on board a ſhip and conveyed to America, without ever writing a line to inform his parents what was become of him. His mental vivacity, and good natural diſpoſition, made him an excellent companion; but he was indolent, thoughtleſs, and to the laſt degree imprudent.
John, the Iriſhman, ſoon ran away. I began to live very agreeably with the reſt. They reſpected me, and the more ſo as they found Keimer incapable of inſtructing them, and as they learned ſomething from me every day. We never worked on a Saturday, it being Keimer's ſabbath; ſo that I had two days a week for reading.
I increaſed my acquaintance with perſons of knowledge and information in the town. Keimer himſelf treated me with great civility and apparent eſteem; and I had nothing to give me uneaſineſs but my debt to Vernon, which I was unable to pay, my ſavings as yet being very ​little. He had the goodneſs, however, not to aſk me for the money.
Our preſs was frequently in want of the neceſſary quantity of letter; and there was no ſuch trade as that of letter-founder in America. I had ſeen the practice of this art at the houſe of James, in London; but had at the time paid it very little attention. I however contrived to fabricate a mould. I made uſe of ſuch letters as we had for punches, founded new letters of lead in matrices of clay, and thus ſupplied, in a tolerable manner, the wants that were moſt preſſing.
I alſo, upon occaſion, engraved various ornaments, made ink, gave an eye to the ſhop; in ſhort I was in every reſpect the factotum. But uſeful as I made myſelf, I perceived that my ſervices became, every day of leſs importance, in proportion as the other men improved; and when Keimer paid me my ſecond quarter's wages, he gave me to underſtand that they were too heavy, and that he thought I ought to make an abatement. He became by degrees leſs civil, and aſſumed more the tone of maſter. He frequently found fault, was difficult to pleaſe, and ſeemed always on the point of coming to an open quarrel with me.
I continued, however, to bear it patiently, conceiving that his ill-humour was partly occaſioned by the derangement and embarraſſment of his affairs. At laſt a ſlight incident broke our connection. Hearing a noiſe in the neighbourhood, I put my head out at the window to ſee what was the matter. Keimer being in the ſtreet, obſerved me, and in a loud and angry tone told me to mind my work; adding ſome reproachful words, which piqued me the more as they were uttered in the ſtreet; and the neighbours, whom the ſame noiſe had attracted to the windows, were witneſſes of the manner in which I was ​treated. He immediately came up to the printing room, and continued to exclaim againſt me. The quarrel became warm on both ſides, and he gave me notice to quit him at the expiration of three months, as had been agreed between us; regretting that he was obliged to give me ſo long a term. I told him that his regret was ſuperfluous, as I was ready to quit him inſtantly; and I took my hat and came out of the houſe, begging Meredith to take care of ſome things which I left, and bring them to my lodgings.
Meredith came to me in the evening. We talked for ſome time upon the quarrel that had taken place. He had conceived a great veneration for me, and was ſorry I ſhould quit the houſe while he remained in it. He diſſuaded me from returning to my native country, as I began to think of doing. He reminded me that Keimer owed more than he poſſeſſed; that his creditors began to be alarmed; that he kept his ſhop in a wretched ſtate, often ſelling things at prime coſt for the ſake of ready money, and continually giving credit without keeping any accounts; that of conſequence he muſt very ſoon fail, which would occaſion a vacancy from which I might derive advantage. I objected my want of money. Upon which he informed me that his father had a very high opinion of me, and, from a converſation that had paſſed between them, he was ſure that he would advance whatever might be neceſſary to eſtabliſh us, if I was willing to enter into partnerſhip with him. "My time with Keimer," added he, "will be at an end next ſpring. In the mean time we may fend to London for our preſs and types. I know that I am no workman; but if you agree to the propoſal, your ſkill in the buſineſs will be balanced by the capital I ſhall furniſh, and we ​will ſhare the profits equally." His propoſal was reaſonable, and I fell in with it. His father, who was then in the town, approved of it. He knew that I had ſome aſcendancy over his ſon, as I had been able to prevail on him to abſtain a long time from drinking brandy; and he hoped that, when more cloſely connected with him, I ſhould cure him entirely of this unfortunate habit.
I gave the father a liſt of what it would be neceſſary to import from London. He took it to a merchant, and the order was given. We agreed to keep the ſecret till the arrival of the materials, and I was in the mean time to procure work, if poſſible, in another printing-houſe; but there was no place vacant, and I remained idle. After ſome days, Keimer having the expectation of being employed to print ſome New-Jerſey money-bills, that would require types and engravings which I only could furniſh, and fearful that Bradford, by engaging me, might deprive him of this undertaking, ſent me a very civil meſſage, telling me that old friends ought not to be diſunited on account of a few words, which were the effect only of a momentary paſſion, and inviting me to return to him. Meredith perſuaded me to comply with the invitation, particularly as it would afford him more opportunities of improving himſelf in the buſineſs by means of my inſtructions. I did ſo; and we lived upon better terms than before our ſeparation.
He obtained the New-Jerſey buſineſs; and, in order to execute it, I conſtructed a copper-plate printing-preſs; the firſt that had been ſeen in the country. I engraved various ornaments and vignettes for the bills; and we repaired to Burlington together, where I executed the whole to the general ſatisfaction and he received a ſum of ​money for this work, which enabled him to keep his head above water for a conſiderable time longer.
At Burlington I formed acquaintance with the principal perſonages of the province; many of whom were commiſſioned by the aſſembly to ſuperintend the preſs, and to ſee that no more bills were printed than the law had preſcribed. Accordingly they were conſtantly with us, each in his turn; and he that came commonly brought with him a friend or two to bear him company. My mind was more cultivated by reading than Keimer's; and it was for this reaſon, probably, that they ſet more value on my converſation. They took me to their houſes, introduced me to their friends, and treated me with the greateſt civility; while Keimer, though maſter, ſaw himſelf a little neglected. He was, in fact, a ſtrange animal, ignorant of the common modes of life, apt to oppoſe with rudeneſs generally received opinions, an enthuſiaſt in certain points of religion, diſguſtingly unclean in his perſon, and a little knaviſh withall.
We remained there nearly three months; and at the expiration of this period I could include in the liſt of my friends, Judge Allen, Samuel Buſtil, ſecretary of the province, Iſaac Pearſon, Joſeph Cooper, ſeveral of the Smiths, all members of the aſſembly, and Iſaac Deacon, inſpector-general. The laſt was a ſhrewd and ſubtle old man. He told me, that, when a boy, his firſt employment had been that of carrying clay to brick-makers; that he did not learn to write till he was ſomewhat advanced in life; that he was afterwards employed as an underling to a ſurveyor, who taught him his trade, and that by induſtry he had at laſt acquired a competent fortune. "I foreſee" ſaid he one day to me, "that you will ​ſoon ſupplant this man," ſpeaking of Keimer, "and get a fortune in the buſineſs at Philadelphia." He was wholly ignorant at the time of my intention of eſtabliſhing myſelf there, or any where elſe. Theſe friends were very ſerviceable to me in the end, as was I alſo, upon occaſion, to ſome of them; and they have continued ever ſince their eſteem for me.
Before I relate the particulars of my entrance into buſineſs, it may be proper to inform you what was at that time the ſtate of my mind as to moral principles, that you may fee the degree of influence they had upon the ſubſequent events of my life.
My parents had given me betimes religious impreſſions; and I received from my infancy a pious education in the principles of Calviniſm. But ſcarcely was I arrived at fifteen years of age, when, after having doubted in turn of different tenets, according as I found them combated in the different books that I read, I began to doubt of revelation itſelf. Some volumes againſt deiſm fell into my hands. They were ſaid to be the ſubſtance of ſermons preached at Boyle's lecture. It happened that they produced on me an effect preciſely the reverſe of what was intended by the writers; for the arguments of the deiſts, which were cited in order to be refuted, appeared to me much more forcible than the refutation itſelf. In a word, I ſoon became a perfect deiſt. My arguments perverted ſome other young perſons; particularly Collins and Ralph. But in the ſequel, when I recollected that they had both uſed me extremely ill, without the ſmalleſt remorſe; when I conſidered the behaviour of Keith, another free-thinker, and my own conduct towards Vernon and Miſs Read, which at times gave me much uneaſineſs, I was led to ſuſpect that this doctrine, ​though it might be true, was not very uſeful. I began to entertain a leſs favourable opinion of my London pamphlet, to which I had prefixed, as a motto, the following lines of Dryden;
Whatever is, is right; though purblind man
Sees but part of the chain, the neareſt link,
His eyes not carrying to the equal beam
That poiſes all above.
and of which the object was to prove, from the attributes of God, his goodneſs, wiſdom, and power, that there could be no ſuch thing as evil in the world; that vice and virtue did not in reality exiſt, and were nothing more than vain diſtinctions. I no longer regarded it as ſo blameleſs a work as I had formerly imagined; and I ſuſpected that ſome error muſt have imperceptibly glided into my argument, by which all the inferences I had drawn from it had been affected, as frequently happens in metaphyſical reaſonings. In a word, I was at laſt convinced that truth, probity, and ſincerity, in tranſactions between man and man, were of the utmoſt importance to the happineſs of life; and I reſolved from that moment, and wrote the reſolution in my journal, to practiſe them as long as I lived.
Revelation indeed, as ſuch, had no influence on my mind; but I was of opinion that, though certain actions could not be bad merely becauſe revelation prohibited, or good becauſe it enjoined them, yet it was probable that thoſe actions were prohibited becauſe they were bad for us, or enjoined becauſe advantageous in their nature, all things conſidered. This perſuaſion, Divine Providence, or ſome guardian angel, and perhaps a concurrence of favourable circumſtances co-operating, preſerved me from all immorality, or groſs and voluntary injuſtice, to which my want of religion was calculated to expoſe me, in the ​dangerous period of youth, and in the hazardous ſituations in which I ſometimes found myſelf, among ſtrangers, and at a diftance from the eye and admonitions of my father. I may ſay voluntary, becauſe the errors into which I had fallen, had been in a manner the forced reſult either of my own inexperience, or the diſhoneſty of others. Thus, before I entered on my new career, I had imbibed ſolid principles, and a character of probity. I knew their value; and I made a ſolemn engagement with myſelf never to depart from them.
I had not long returned from Burlington before our printing materials arrived from London. I ſettled my accounts with Keimer, and quitted him, with his own conſent, before he had any knowledge of our plan. We found a houſe to let near the market. We took it; and to render the rent leſs burthenſome (it was then twenty-four pounds a-year, but I have ſince known it to let for ſeventy), we admitted Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, with his family, who eaſed us of a conſiderable part of it; and with him we agreed to board.
We had no ſooner unpacked our letters, and put our preſs in order, than a perſon of my acquaintance, George Houſe, brought us a countryman, whom he had met in the ſtreets enquiring for a printer. Our money was almoſt exhauſted by the number of things we had been obliged to procure. The five ſhillings we received from this countryman, the firſt fruit of our earnings, coming ſo ſeaſonably, gave me more pleaſure than any ſum I have ſince gained; and the recollection of the gratitude I felt on this occasion to George Houſe, has rendered me often more diſpoſed, than perhaps I ſhould otherwiſe have been, to encourage young beginners in trade.
​There are in every country moroſe beings, who are always prognoſticating ruin. There was one of this ſtamp at Philadelphia. He was a man of fortune, declined in years, had an air of wiſdom, and a very grave manner of ſpeaking. His name was Samuel Mickle. I knew him not; but he ſtopped one day at my door, and aſked me if I was the young man who had lately opened a new printing-houſe. Upon my anſwering in the affirmative, he ſaid that he was very ſorry for me, as it was an extenſive undertaking, and the money that had been laid out upon it would be loſt, Philadelphia being a place falling into decay; its inhabitants having all, or nearly all of them, been obliged to call together their creditors. That he knew, from undoubted fact, the circumſtances which might lead us to ſuppoſe the contrary, ſuch as new buildings, and the advanced price of rent, to be deceitful appearances, which in reality contributed to haſten the general ruin; and he gave me ſo long a detail of misfortunes, actually exiſting, or which were ſoon to take place, that he left me almoſt in a ſtate of deſpair. Had I known this man before I entered into trade, I ſhould doubtleſs never have ventured. He continued however to live in this place of decay, and to declaim in the ſame ſtyle, refuſing for many years to buy a houſe, becauſe all was going to wreck; and in the end I had the ſatisfaction to ſee him pay five times as much for one as it would have coſt him had he purchaſed it when he firſt began his lamentations.
I ought to have related, that, during the autumn of the preceding year, I had united the majority of well-informed perſons of my acquaintance into a club, which we called by the name of the Junto, and the object of which was to improve our underſtanding. We met every Friday ​evening. The regulations I drew up, obliged every member to propoſe, in his turn, one or more queſtions upon ſome point of morality, politics or philoſophy, which were to be diſcuſſed by the ſociety; and to read, once in three months, an eſſay of his own competition, on whatever ſubject he pleaſed. Our debates were under the direction of a preſident, and were to be dictated only by a ſincere deſire of truth; the pleaſure of diſputing, and the vanity of triumph having no ſhare in the buſineſs; and in order to prevent undue warmth, every expreſſion which implied obſtinate adherence to an opinion, and all direct contradiction, were prohibited, under ſmall pecuniary penalties.
The firſt members of our club were Joſeph Breintal, whoſe occupation was that of a ſcrivener. He was a middle-aged man, of a good natural diſpoſition, ſtrongly attached to his friends, a great lover of poetry, reading every thing that came in his way, and writing tolerably well, ingenious in many little trifles, and of an agreeable converſation.
Thomas Godfrey, a ſkilful, though ſelf-taught mathematician, and who was afterwards the inventor of what now goes by the name of Hadley's dial; but he had little knowledge out of his own line, and was inſupportable in company, always requiring, like the majority of mathematicians that have fallen in my way, an unuſual preciſion in every thing that is ſaid, continually contradicting, or making trifling diſtinctions; a ſure way of defeating all the ends of converſation. He very ſoon left us.
Nicholas Scull, a ſurveyor, and who became afterwards ſurveyor-general. He was fond of books, and wrote verſes.
William Parſons, brought up to the trade of a ſhoe-maker, but who, having a taſte for ​reading, had acquired a profound knowledge of mathematics. He firſt ſtudied them with a view to aſtrology, and was afterwards the firſt to laugh at his folly. He alſo became ſurveyor-general. William Mawgridge, a joiner, and very excellent mechanic; and in other reſpects a man of ſolid underſtanding.
Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb, of whom I have already ſpoken.
Robert Grace, a young man of fortune; generous, animated, and witty; fond of epigrams, but more fond of his friends.
And laſtly, William Coleman, at that time a merchant's clerk, and nearly of my own age. He had a cooler and clearer head, a better heart, and more ſcrupulous morals, than almoſt any other perſon I have ever met with. He became a very reſpectable merchant, and one of our provincial judges. Our friendſhip ſubſiſted, without interruption, for more than forty years, till the period of his death; and the club continued to exiſt almoſt as long.
This was the beſt ſchool of politics and philoſophy that then exiſted in the province; for our queſtions, which were read a week previous to their diſcuſſion, induced us to peruſe attentively ſuch books as were written upon the ſubjects propoſed, that we might be able to ſpeak upon them more pertinently. We thus acquired the habit of converſing more agreeably; every object being diſcuſſed conformably to our regulations, and in a manner to prevent mutual diſguſt. To this circumſtance may be attributed the long duration of the club; which I ſhall have frequent occaſion to mention as I proceed.
I have introduced it here, as being one of the means on which I had to count for ſucceſs in my buſineſs; every member exerting himſelf to ​procure work for us. Breintnal, among others, obtained for us, on the part of the Quakers, the printing of forty ſheets of their hiſtory; of which the reſt was to be done by Keimer. Our execution of this work was by no means maſterly; as the price was very low. It was in folio, upon pro patria paper, and in the pica letter, with heavy notes in the ſmalleſt type. I compoſed a ſheet a day, and Meredith put it to the preſs. It was frequently eleven o’clock at night, ſometimes later, before I had finiſhed my diſtribution for the next day's talk; for the little things which our friends occaſionally ſent us, kept us back in this work: but I was ſo determined to compoſe a ſheet a day, that one evening, when my form was impoſed, and my day's work, as I thought, at an end, an accident having broken this form, and deranged two complete folio pages, I immediately diſtributed, and compoſed them anew before I went to bed.
This unwearied induſtry, which was perceived by our neighbours, began to acquire us reputation and credit. I learned, among other things, that our new printing-houſe being the ſubject of converſation at a club of merchants, who met every evening, it was the general opinion that it would fail; there being already two printing-houſes in the town, Keimer's and Bradford's. But Dr. Bard, whom you and I had occaſion to ſee, many years after, at his native town of St. Andrew's in Scotland, was of a different opinion. "The induſtry of this Franklin (ſaid he) is ſuperior to any thing of the kind I have ever witneſſed. I ſee him ſtill at work when I return from the club at night, and he is at it again in the morning before his neighbours are out of bed." This account ſtruck the reſt of the aſſembly, and ſhortly after one of its members came to ​our houſe, and offered to ſupply us with articles of ſtationary; but we wiſhed not as yet to embarraſs ourſelves with keeping a ſhop. It is not for the ſake of applauſe that I enter ſo freely into the particulars of my induſtry, but ſuch of my deſcendants as ſhall read theſe memoirs may know the uſe of this virtue, by ſeeing in the recital of my life the effects it operated in my favour.
George Webb, having found a friend who lent him the neceſſary ſum to buy out his time of Keimer, came one day to offer himſelf to us as a journeyman. We could not employ him immediately; but I fooliſhly told him, under the roſe, that I intended ſhortly to publiſh a new periodical paper, and that we ſhould then have work for him. My hopes of ſucceſs, which I imparted to him, were founded on the circumſtance, that the only paper we had in Philadelphia at that time, and which Bradford printed, was a paltry thing, miſerably conducted, in no reſpect amuſing, and which yet was profitable. I conſequently ſuppoſed that a good work of this kind could not fail of ſucceſs. Webb betrayed my ſecret to Keimer, who, to prevent me, immediately publiſhed the proſpectus of a paper that he intended to inſtitute himſelf, and in which Webb was to, be engaged.
I was exaſperated at this proceeding, and, with a view to counteract them, not being able at preſent to inſtitute my own paper, I wrote ſome humorous pieces in Bradford's, under the title of the Bufy Body; and which was continued for ſeveral months by Breintnal. I hereby fixed the attention of the public upon Bradford's paper; and the proſpectus of Keimer, which we turned ​into ridicule, was treated with contempt. He began, notwithſtanding, his paper; and after continuing it for nine months having at moſt not more than ninety ſubſcribers, he offered it me for a mere trifle. I had for ſome time been ready for ſuch an engagement; I therefore inſtantly took it upon myſelf, and in a few years it proved extremely profitable to me.
I perceive that I am apt to ſpeak in the firſt perſon, though our partnerſhip ſtill continued. It is, perhaps, becauſe, in fact, the whole buſineſs devolved upon me. Meredith was no compoſitor, and but an indifferent preſſman; and it was rarely that he abſtained from hard drinking. My friends were ſorry to ſee me connected with him; but I contrived to derive from it the utmoſt advantage the caſe admitted.
Our firſt number produced no other effect than any other paper which had appeared in the province, as to type and printing; but ſome remarks, in my peculiar ſtyle of writing, upon the diſpute which then prevailed between governor Burnet and the Massachusetts aſſembly, ſtruck ſome perſons as above mediocrity, cauſed the paper and its editors to be talked of, and in a few weeks induced them to become our ſubſcribers. Many others followed their example; and our ſubſcription continued to increaſe. This was one of the firſt good effects of the pains I had taken to learn to put my ideas on paper. I derived this farther advantage from it, that the leading men of the place, ſeeing in the author of this publication a man ſo well able to uſe his pen, thought it right to patroniſe and encourage me.
The votes, laws, and other public pieces, were printed by Bradford. An addreſs of the houſe of aſſembly to the governor had been executed by him in a very coarſe and incorrect manner. ​We reprinted it with accuracy and neatneſs, and ſent a copy to every member. They perceived the difference; and it ſo ſtrengthened the influence of our friends in the aſſembly, that we were nominated its printer for the following year.
Among theſe friends I ought not to forget one member in particular, Mr. Hamilton, whom I have mentioned in a former part of my narrative, and who was now returned from England. He warmly intereſted himſelf for me on this occaſion, as he did likewiſe on many others afterwards; having continued his kindneſs to me till his death.
About this period Mr. Vernon reminded me of the debt I owed him, but without preſſing me for payment. I wrote a handſome letter on the occaſion, begging him to wait a little longer, to which he consented; and as ſoon as I was able I paid him, principal and intereſt, with many expreſſions of gratitude; ſo that this error of my life was in a manner atoned for.
But another trouble now happened to me, which I had not the ſmalleſt reaſon to expect Meredith's father, who, according to our agreement, was to defray the whole expence of our printing materials, had only paid a hundred pounds. Another hundred was ſtill due, and the merchant being tired of waiting, commenced a ſuit againſt us. We bailed the action, but with the melancholy proſpect, that, if the money was not forth-coming at the time fixed, the affair would come to iſſue, judgment be put in execution, our delightful hopes be annihilated, and ourſelves entirely ruined; as the type and preſs muſt be ſold, perhaps at half their value, to pay the debt.
In this diſtreſs, two real friends, whoſe generous conduct I have never forgotten, and never ſhall forget while I retain the remembrance of ​any thing, came to me ſeparately, without the knowledge of each other, and without my having applied to either of them. Each offered me whatever money might be neceſſary, to take the buſineſs into my own hands, if the thing was practicable, as they did not like I ſhould continue in partnerſhip with Meredith, who, they ſaid, was frequently ſeen drunk in the ſtreets, and gambling at ale-houſes, which very much Injured our credit. Theſe friends were William Coleman and Robert Grace. I told them, that while there remained any probability that the Merediths would fulfil their part of the compact, I could not propoſe a ſeparation; as I conceived myſelf to be under obligations to them for what they had done already, and were ſtill diſpoſed to do if they had the power: but in the end ſhould they fail in their engagement, and our partnerſhip be diſſolved, I ſhould then think myſelf at liberty to accept the kindneſs of my friends.
Things remained for ſome time in this ſtate. At laſt I ſaid one day to my partner, "Your father is perhaps diſſatisfied with your having a ſhare only in the buſineſs, and is unwilling to do for two, what he would do for you alone. Tell me frankly if that be the caſe, and I will reſign the whole to you, and do for myſelf as well as I can."—"No (ſaid he) my father has really been diſappointed in his hopes; he is not able to pay, and I wiſh to put him to no farther inconvenience. I ſee that I am not at all calculated for a printer; I was educated as a farmer, and it was abſurd in me to come here, at thirty years of age, and bind myſelf apprentice to a new trade. Many of my countrymen are going to ſettle in North Carolina, where the ſoil is exceedingly favourable. I am tempted to go with them, and to reſume my former occupation. ​You will doubtleſs find friends who will aſſiſt you. If you will take upon yourſelf the debts of the partnerſhip, return my father the hundred pounds he has advanced, pay my little perſonal debts, and give me thirty pounds and a new ſaddle, I will renounce the partnerſhip, and conſign over the whole ſtock to you."
I accepted this propoſal without heſitation. It was committed to paper, and ſigned and ſealed without delay. I gave him what he demanded, and he departed ſoon after for Carolina, from whence he ſent me, in the following year, two letters, containing the beſt accounts that had yet been given of that country, as to climate, ſoil, agriculture, &c.; for he was well verſed in theſe matters. I publiſhed them in my newſpaper, and they were received with great ſatisfaction. As ſoon as he was gone I applied to my two friends, and not wiſhing to give a diſobliging preference to either of them, I accepted from each half of what he offered me, and which it was neceſſary I ſhould have. I paid the partnerſhip debts, and continued the buſineſs on my own account; taking care to inform the public, by advertiſement, of the partnership being diſſolved. This was, think, in the year 1729, or thereabout.
Nearly at the ſame period the people demanded a new emiſſion of paper money; the exiſting and only one that had taken place in the province, and which amounted to fifteen thouſand pounds, being ſoon to expire. The wealthy inhabitants, prejudiced againſt every ſort of paper currency, from the fear of its depreciation, of which there had been an inſtance in the province of New-England, to the injury of its holders, ſtrongly oppoſed the meaſure. We had diſcuſſed this affair in our junto, in which I was on the ​ſide of the new emiſſion; convinced that the firſt ſmall ſum, fabricated in 1723, had done much good in the province, by favouring commerce, induſtry and population, ſince all the houſes were now inhabited, and many others building; whereas I remembered to have ſeen, when I firſt paraded the ſtreets of Philadelphia eating my roll, the majority of thoſe in Walnut-ſtreet, Second-ſtreet, Fourth-ſtreet, as well as a great number in Cheſnut and other ſtreets, with papers on them ſignifying that they were to be let; which made me think at the time that the inhabitants of the town were deſerting it one after another.
Our debates made me ſo fully maſter of the ſubject, that I wrote and publiſhed an anonymous pamphlet, entitled An Enquiry into the Nature and Neceſſity of a Paper Currency. It was very well received by the lower and midling claſs of people; but it diſpleaſed the opulent, as it increaſed the clamour in favour of the new emiſſion. Having, however, no writer among them capable of anſwering it, their oppoſition became leſs violent; and there being in the houſe of aſſembly a majority for the meaſure, it palled. The friends I had acquired in the houſe, perſuaded that I had done the country eſſential ſervice on this occaſion, rewarded me by giving me the printing of the bills. It was a lucrative employment, and proved a very ſeaſonable help to me; another advantage which I derived from having habituated myſelf to write.
Time and experience ſo fully demonſtrated the utility of paper, currency, that it never after experienced any conſiderable oppoſition; ſo that it ſoon amounted to 55,000l. and in the year 1739 to 80,000l. It has ſince riſen, during the laſt war, to 350,000l. trade, buildings and population having in the interval continually increaſed: ​but I am now convinced that there are limits beyond which paper money would be prejudicial.
I ſoon after obtained, by the influence of my friend Hamilton, the printing of the Newcaſtle paper money, another profitable work, as I then thought it, little things appearing great to perſons of moderate fortune; and they were really great to me, as proving great encouragements. He alſo procured me the printing of the laws and votes of that government, which I retained as I continued in the buſineſs.
I now opened a ſmall ſtationer's ſhop. I kept bonds and agreements of all kinds, drawn up in a more accurate form than had yet been ſeen in that part of the world; a work in which I was aſſiſted by my friend Breintnal. I had alſo paper, parchment, paſteboard, books, &c. One Whitemaſh, an excellent compoſitor, whom I had known in London, came to offer himſelf. I engaged, him; and he continued conſtantly and diligently to work with me. I alſo took an apprentice, the ſon of Aquila Roſe.
I began to pay, by degrees, the debt I had contracted; and in order to inſure my credit and character as a tradeſman, I took care not only to be realty induſtrious and frugal, but alſo to avoid every appearance of the contrary. I was plainly dreſſed, and never ſeen in any place of public amuſement. I never went a fiſhing or hunting. A book indeed enticed me ſometimes from my work, but it was ſeldom, by ſtealth, and occaſioned no ſcandal; and to ſhow that I did not think myſelf above my profeſſion, I conveyed home ſometimes in a wheelbarrow the paper I purchaſed at the warehouſes.
I thus obtained the reputation of being an induſtrious young man, and very punctual in his payments. The merchants who imported ​articles of ſtationary ſolicited my cuſtom; others offered to furniſh me with books, and my little trade went on proſperouſly.
Meanwhile the credit and buſineſs of Keimer diminiſhing every day, he was at laſt forced to ſell his ſtock to ſatisfy his creditors; and he betook himſelf to Barbadoes, where he lived for ſome time in a very impoveriſhed ſtate. His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had inſtructed while I worked with Keimer, having bought his materials, ſucceeded him in the buſineſs. I was apprehensive, at firſt, of finding in Harry a powerful competitor, as he was allied to an opulent and reſpectable family; I therefore propoſed a partnerſhip, which, happily for me, he rejected with diſdain. He was extremely proud, thought himſelf a fine gentleman, lived extravagantly, and purſued amuſements which ſuffered him to be ſcarcely ever at home; of conſequence he became in debt, neglected his buſineſs, and buſineſs neglected him. Finding in a ſhort time nothing to do in the country, he followed Keimer to Barbadoes, carrying his printing materials with him. There the apprentice employed his old maſter as a journeyman. They were continually quarrelling; and Harry ſtill getting in debt, was obliged at laſt to ſell his preſs and types, and return to his old occupation of huſbandry in Pennſylvania. The perſon who purchaſed them employed Keimer to manage the buſineſs; but he died a few years after.
I had now at Philadelphia no competitor but Bradford, who, being in eaſy circumſtances, did not engage in the printing of books, except now and then as workmen chanced to offer themſelves; and was not anxious to extend his trade. He had, however, one advantage over me, as he had the direction of the poſt office, and was of ​conſequence ſuppoſed to have better opportunities of obtaining news. His paper was alſo ſuppoſed to be more advantageous to advertiſing cuſtomers; and in conſequence of that ſuppoſition, his advertiſements were much more numerous than mine: this was a ſource of great profit to him, and diſadvantageous to me. It was to no purpoſe that I really procured other papers, and diſtributed my own, by means of the poſt; the public took for granted my inability in this reſpect; and I was indeed unable to conquer it in any other mode than by bribing the poſt-boys, who ſerved me only by ſtealth, Bradford being ſo illiberal as to forbid them. This treatment of his excited my reſentment; and my diſguſt was ſo rooted, that, when I afterwards ſucceeded him in the poſt-office, I took care to avoid copying his example.
I had hitherto continued to board with Godfrey, who, with his wife and children, occupied part of my houſe, and half of the ſhop for his buſineſs; at which indeed he worked very little, being always abſorbed by mathematics. Mrs. Godfrey formed a wiſh of marrying me to the daughter of one of her relations. She contrived various opportunities of bringing us together, till ſhe ſaw that I was captivated; which was not difficult, the lady in queſtion poſſeſſing great perſonal merit. The parents encouraged my addreſſes, by inviting me continually to ſupper, and leaving us together, till at laſt it was time to come to an explanation. Mrs. Godfrey undertook to negotiate our little treaty. I gave her to underſtand, that I expected to receive with the young lady a ſum of money that would enable me at leaſt to diſcharge the remainder of my debt for my printing materials. It was then, I believe, not more than a hundred pounds. She ​brought me for anſwer, that they had no ſuch ſum at their diſpoſal. I obſerved that it might eaſily be obtained, by a mortgage on their houſe. The reply to this was, after a few days interval, that they did not approve of the match; that they had conſulted Bradford; and found that the buſineſs of a printer was not lucrative; that my letters would ſoon be worn out, and muſt be ſupplied by new ones; that Keimer and Harry had failed, and that, probably, I ſhould do ſo too. Accordingly they forbade me the houſe, and the young lady was confined. I know not if they had really changed their minds, or if it was merely an artifice, ſuppoſing our affections to be too far engaged for us to deſiſt, and that we ſhould contrive to marry ſecretly, which would leave them at liberty to give or not as they pleaſed. But, ſuſpecting this motive, I never went again to their houſe.
Some time after Mrs. Godfrey informed me that they were very favourably diſpoſed towards me, and wiſhed me to renew the acquaintance; but I declared a firm reſolution never to have any thing more to do with the family. The Godfreys expreſſed ſome reſentment at this; and as we could no longer agree, they changed their reſidence, leaving me in poſſeſſion of the whole houſe. I then reſolved to take no more lodgers. This affair having turned my thoughts to marriage, I looked around me, and made overtures of alliance in other quarters; but I ſoon found that the profeſſion of a printer being generally looked upon as a poor trade, I could expect no money with a wife, at leaſt if I wiſhed her to poſſeſs any other charm. Meanwhile that paſſion of youth, ſo difficult to govern, had often drawn me into intrigues with deſpicable women who fell in my way; which were not unaccompanied ​with expence and inconvenience, beſides the perpetual riſk of injuring my health, and catching a diſeaſe which I dreaded above all things. But I was fortunate enough to eſcape this danger.
As a neighbour and old acquaintance, I had kept up a friendly intimacy with the family of Miſs Read. Her parents had retained an affection for me from the time of my lodging in their houſe. I was often invited thither; they conſulted me about their affairs, and I had been ſometimes ſerviceable to them. I was touched with the unhappy ſituation of their daughter, who was almoſt always melancholy, and continually ſeeking ſolitude. I regarded my forgetfulneſs and inconſtancy, during my abode in London, as the principal cauſe of her misfortune; though her mother had the candour to attribute the fault to herſelf, rather than to me, becauſe, after having prevented our marriage previouſly to my departure, ſhe had induced her to marry another in my abſence.
Our mutual affection revived; but there exiſted great obſtacles to our union. Her marriage was conſidered, indeed, as not being valid, the man having, it was ſaid, a former wife ſtill living in England; but of this it was difficult to obtain a proof at ſo great a diſtance; and though a report prevailed of his being dead, yet we had no certainty of it; and ſuppoſing it to be true, he had left many debts, for the payment of which his ſucceſſor might be ſued. We ventured nevertheleſs, in ſpite of all theſe difficulties; and I married her on the firſt of September 1730. None of the inconveniences we had feared happened to us. She proved to me a good and faithful companion, and contributed eſſentially to the ſucceſs of my ſhop. We proſpered together, and it was our mutual ſtudy to render each other ​happy. Thus I corrected, as well as I could, this great error of my youth.
Our club was not at that time eſtabliſhed at a tavern. We held our meeting at the houſe of Mr. Grace, who appropriated a room to the purpoſe. Some member obſerved one day, that as our books were frequently quoted in the courſe of our diſcuſſions, it would be convenient to have them collected in the room in which we aſſembled, in order to be conſulted upon occaſion; and that, by thus forming a common library of our individual collections, each would have the advantage of uſing the books of all the other members, which would nearly be the ſame as if he poſſeſſed them all himſelf. The idea was approved, and we accordingly brought ſuch books as we thought we could ſpare, which were placed at the end of the club-room. They amounted not to ſo many as we expected; and though we made considerable uſe of them, yet ſome inconveniences reſulting, from want of care, it was agreed, after about a year, to deſtroy the collection; and each took away ſuch books as belonged to him.
It was now that I firſt ſtarted the idea of eſtabliſhing, by ſubſcription, a public library. I drew up the propoſals, had them ingroſſed in form by Brockden the attorney, and my project ſucceeded, as will be ſeen in the ſequel **************
[The life of Dr Franklin, as written by himſelf, ſo far as it has yet been communicated to the world, breaks off in this place. We underſtand that it was continued by him ſomewhat farther, and we hope that the remainder will, at ſome future period, be communicated to the pulic. We have no heſitation in ſuppoſing that ​every reader will find himſelf greatly intereſted by the frank ſimplicity and the philoſophical diſcernment by which theſe pages are ſo eminently characteriſed. We have therefore thought proper, in order as much as poſſible to relieve his regret, to ſubjoin the following continuation, by one of the Doctor's intimate friends. It is extracted from an American periodical publication, and was written by the late Dr. Stuber of Philadelphia.]
THE promotion of literature had been little attended to in Penſyjvania. 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 ſufficiently large libraries. In ſuch circumſtances, the ​eſtabliſhment of a public library was an important event. This was firſt ſet on foot by Franklin, about the year 1731. Fifty perſons ſubſcribed forty ſhillings each, and agreed to pay ten ſhillings annually. The number encreaſed; and in 1742, the company was incorporated by the name of "The Library Company of Philadelphia." Several other companies were formed in this city in imitation of it. Theſe were at length united with the library company of Philadelphia, which thus received a conſiderable acceſſion of books and property. It now contains about eight thouſand volumes on all ſubjects, a philoſophical apparatus, and a good beginning towards a collectition of natural and artificial curioſities, beſides landed property of conſiderable value. The company have lately built an elegant houſe in Fifth-ſtreet, in the front of which will be erected a marble ſtatue of their founder, Benjamin Franklin.
This inſtitution was greatly encouraged by the friends of literature in America and in Great Britain. The Penn family diſtinguiſhed themſelves by their donations. Amongſt the earlieſt friends of this inſtitution muſt be mentioned the late Peter Collinſon, the friend and correſpondent of Dr. Franklin. He not only made conſiderable preſents himſelf, and obtained others from his friends, but voluntarily undertook to manage the buſineſs of the company in London, recommending books, purchasing and ſhipping them. His extenſive knowledge, and zeal for the promotion of ſcience, enabled him to execute this important truſt with the greateſt advantage. He continued to perform theſe ſervices for more than thirty years, and uniformly refuſed to accept of any compenſation. During this time, he communicated to the directors every information relative ​to improvements and diſcoveries in the arts, agriculture, and philoſophy.
The beneficial influence of this inſtitution was ſoon evident. The cheapneſs of terms rendered it acceſſible to every one. Its advantages were not confined to the opulent. The citizens in the middle and lower walks of life were equally partakers of them. Hence a degree of information was extended amongſt all claſſes of people, which is very unuſual in other places. The example was ſoon followed. Libraries were eſtabliſhed in various places, and they are now become very numerous in the United States, and particularly in Pennſylvania. It is to be hoped that they will be ſtill more widely extended, and that information will be every where increaſed. This will be the beſt ſecurity for maintaining our liberties. A nation of well-informed men, who have been taught to know and prize the rights which God has given them, cannot be enſlaved. It is in the regions of ignorance that tyranny reigns. It flies before the light of ſcience. Let the citizens of America, then, encourage inſtitutions calculated to diffuſe knowledge amongſt the people; and amongſt theſe, public libraries are not the leaſt important.
In 1732, Franklin began to publiſh Poor Richard's Almanack. This was remarkable for the numerous and valuable conciſe maxims which it contained, all tending to exhort to induſtry and frugality. It was continued for many years. In the almanack for the laſt year, all the maxims were collected in an addreſs to the reader, entitled, The Way to Wealth. This has been tranſlated into various languages, and inſerted in different publications. It has alſo been printed on a large ſheet, and may be ſeen framed in many houſes in this city. This addreſs contains, ​perhaps, the beſt practical ſyſtem of œconomy that ever has appeared. It is written in a manner intelligible to every one, and which cannot fail of convincing every reader of the juſtice and propriety of the remarks and advice which it contains. The demand for this almanack was ſo great, that ten thouſand have been ſold in one year; which muſt be conſidered as a very large number, eſpecially when we reflect, that this country was, at that time, but thinly peopled. It cannot be doubted that the ſalutary maxims contained in theſe almanacks muſt have made a favourable impreſſion upon many of the readers of them.
It was not long before Franklin entered upon his political career. In the year 1736, he was appointed clerk to the general aſſembly of Pennſylvania; and was re-elected by ſucceeding aſſemblies for ſeveral years, until he was choſen a repreſentative for the city of Philadelphia.
Bradford was poſſeſſed of ſome advantages over Franklin, by being poſt-maſter, thereby having an opportunity of circulating his paper more extenſively, and thus rendering it a better vehicle for advertiſements, &c. Franklin, in his turn, enjoyed theſe advantages, by being appointed poſt-maſter of Philadelphia in 1757. Bradford, while in office, had acted ungenerouſly towards Franklin, preventing as much as poſſible the circulation of his paper. He had now an opportunity of retaliating; but his nobleneſs of ſoul prevented him from making uſe of it.
The police of Philadelphia had early appointed watchmen, whoſe duty it was to guard the citizens againſt the midnight robber, and to give an immediate alarm in cafe of fire. This duty is, perhaps, one of the moſt important that can be committed to any ſet of men. The ​regulations, however, were not ſufficiently ſtrict. Franklin ſaw the dangers ariſing from this cauſe, and ſuggeſted an alteration, ſo as to oblige the guardians of the night to be more watchful over the lives and property of the citizens, The propriety of this was immediately perceived, and a reform was effected.
There is nothing more dangerous to growing cities than fires. Other cauſes operate ſlowly, and almoſt imperceptible; but theſe in a moment render abortive the labours of ages. On this account there ſhould be, in all cities, ample proviſions to prevent fires from ſpreading. Franklin early ſaw the neceſſity of theſe; and, about the year 1738, formed the firſt fire-company in this city. This example was ſoon followed by others; and there are now numerous fire-companies in the city and liberties. To theſe may be attributed in a great degree the activity in extinguiſhing fires, for which the citizens of Philadelphia are diſtinguiſhed, and the inconſiderable damage which this city has ſuſtained from this cauſe. Some time after, Franklin ſuggeſted the plan of an aſſociation for inſuring houſes from loſſes by fire, which was adopted; and the aſſociation continues to this day. The advantages experienced from it have been great.
From the firſt eſtabliſhment of Pennſylvania, a ſpirit of diſpute appears to have prevailed amongſt its inhabitants. During the life-time of William Penn, the conſtitution had been three times altered. After this period, the hiſtory of Pennſylvania is little elſe than a recital of the quarrels between the proprietaries, or their governors, and the aſſembly. The proprietaries contended for the right of exempting their lands from taxes; to which the aſſembly would by no means conſent. This ſubject of diſpute interfered in ​almoſt every queſtion, and prevented the moſt ſalutary laws, from being enacted. This at times ſubjected the people to great inconveniences. In the year 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 defence. Governor Thomas recommended to the aſſembly, who were then fitting, to paſs a militia law. To this they would agree only upon condition that he ſhould give his aſſent to certain laws, which appeared to them calculated to promote the intereſts of the people. As he thought theſe laws would be injurious to the proprietaries, he refuſed his aſſent to them; and the aſſembly broke up without paſſing a militia law. The ſituation of the province was at this time truly alarming: expoſed to the continual inroads of an enemy, and deſtitute of every means of defence. At this criſis Franklin ſtepped forth, and propoſed to a meeting of the citizens of Philadelphia, a plan of a voluntary aſſociation for the defence of the province. This was approved of, and ſigned by twelve hundred perſons immediately. Copies of it were circulated throughout the province; and in a ſhort time the number of ſigners amounted to ten thouſand. Franklin was choſen colonel of the Philadelphia regiment; but he did not think proper to accept of the honour.
Purſuits of a different nature now occupied the greateſt part of his attention for ſome years. He engaged in a courſe of electrical experiments, with all the ardor and thirſt for diſcovery which characterized the philoſophers of that day. Of all the branches of experimental philoſophy electricity had been leaſt explored. The attractive power of amber is mentioned by Theophraſtus ​and Pliny, and, from them, by later naturaliſts. In the year 1600, Gilbert, an Engliſh phyſician, enlarged conſiderably the catalogue of ſubſtances which have the property of attracting light bodies. Boyle, Otto Guericke, a burgomaſter of Magdeburg, celebrated as the inventor of the air pump. Dr. Wall, and Sir Iſaac Newton added ſome facts. Guericke firſt obſerved the repulſive power of electricity, and the light and noiſe produced by it. In 1709, Hawkeſbee communicated ſome important obſervations and experiments to the world. For ſeveral years electricity was entirely 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 demonſtrated, that electricity may be communicated from one body to another, even without being in contact, and in this way may be conducted to a great diſtance. Mr. Grey afterwards found, that, by ſuſpending rods of iron by ſilk or hair lines, and bringing an excited tube under them, ſparks might be drawn, and a light preceived at the extremities in the dark. M. Du Faye, intendant of the French king's gardens, made a number of experiments, which added not a little to the ſcience. He made the diſcovery of two kinds of electricity, which he called vitreous and reſinous; the former produced by rubbing glaſs, the latter from excited ſulphur, ſealing-wax, &c. But this idea he afterwards gave up as erroneous. Between the years 1739 and 1742, Defaguliers made a number of experiments, but added little of importance. He firſt uſed the terms conductors and electrics, per ſe. In 1742, ſeveral ingenious Germans engaged in this ſubject. Of theſe the principal were, profeſſor Boze of Wittemberg, profeſſor Winkler of Leipſic, Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine monk, ​profeſſor of philoſophy at Erfurt, and Dr. Ludolf of Berlin. The reſult of their reſearches aſtoniſhed the philoſophers of Europe. Their apparatus was large, and by means of it they were enabled to collect large quantities of electricity, and thus to produce phenomena which had been hitherto unobſerved. They killed ſmall birds, and ſet ſpirits on fire. Their experiments excited the curioſity of other philoſophers. Collinſon, about the year 1745, ſent to the library company of Philadelphia an account of theſe experiments, together with a tube, and directions how to uſe it. Franklin, with ſome of his friends, immediately engaged in a courſe of experiments; the reſult of which is well known. He was enabled to make a number of important diſcoveries, and to propoſe theories to account for various phenomena; which have been univerſally adopted, and which bid fair to endure for ages. His obſervations he communicated, in a ſeries of letters, to his friend Collinſon; the firſt of which is dated March 28, 1747. In theſe he makes known the power of points in drawing and throwing off the electrical matter, which had hitherto eſcaped the notice of electricians. He alſo made the grand diſcovery of a plus and minus, or of a poſitive and negative ſtate of electricity. We give him the honour of this, without heſitation; although the Engliſh have claimed it for their countryman Dr. Watſon. Watſon's paper is dated January 21, 1748; Franklin's July 11, 1747; ſeveral months prior. Shortly after, Franklin, from his principles of plus and minus ſtate, explained, in a ſatisfactory manner, the phenomena of the Leyden phial, firſt obſerved by Mr. Cuneus, or by profeſſor Muſchenbroeck of Leyden, which had much perplexed philoſophers. He ſhewed clearly that the bottle, when charged, ​contained no more electricity than before, but that as much was taken from one ſide as was thrown on the other; and that, to diſcharge it, nothing was neceſſary but to make a communication between the two ſides, by which the equilibrium might be reſtored, and that then no ſigns of electricity would remain. He afterwards demonſtrated, by experiments, that the electricity did not reſide in the coating, as had been ſuppoſed, but in the pores of the glaſs itſelf. After a phial was charged, he removed the coating, and found that upon applying a new coating the ſhock might ſtill be received. In the year 1749, he firſt ſuggeſted his idea of explaining the phenomena of thunder-guſts, and of the aurora borealis, upon electrical principles. He points out many particulars in which lightning and electricity agree; and he adduces many facts, and reaſoning from facts, in ſupport of his poſitions. In the ſame year he conceived the aſtoniſhingly bold and grand idea of aſcertaining the truth of his doctrine, by actually drawing down the forked lightning, by means of ſharp-pointed iron rods raiſed into the region of the clouds. Even in this uncertain ſtate, his paſſion to be uſeful to mankind diſplays itſelf in a powerful manner. Admitting the identity of electricity and lightning, and knowing the power of points in repelling bodies charged with electricity, and in conducting their fire ſilently and imperceptibly, he ſuggeſts the idea of ſecuring houſes, ſhips, &c. from being damaged by lightning, by erecting pointed iron rods, which ſhould riſe ſome feet above the moſt elevated part, and deſcend ſome feet into the ground or the water. The effect of theſe, he concluded, would be either to prevent a ſtroke by repelling the cloud beyond the ſtriking diſtance, or by drawing off the electrical fire ​which it contained; or, if they could not effect this, they would at leaſt conduct the ſtroke to the earth, without any injury to the building.
It was not until the ſummer of 1752, that he was enabled to complete his grand and unparalleled diſcovery by experiment. The plan which he had originally propoſed, was, to erect on ſome high tower, or other elevated place, a centry-box, from which ſhould rife a pointed iron rod, inſulated by being fixed in a cake of reſin. Electrified clouds paſſing over this, would, he conceived, impart to it a portion of their electricity, which would be rendered evident to the ſenſes by ſparks being emitted, when a key, a knuckle, or other conductor, was preſented to it. Philadelphia at this time afforded no opportunity of trying an experiment of this kind. Whilſt Franklin was waiting for the erection of a ſpire, it occurred to him, that he might have more ready acceſs to the region of clouds by means of a common kite. He prepared one by attaching two croſs ſticks to a ſilk handkerchief, which would not ſuffer ſo much from the rain as paper. To his upright ſtick was affixed an iron point. The ſtring was as uſual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was ſilk. Where the hempen ſtring terminated, a key was faſtened. With this apparatus, on the appearance of a thunder-guſt approaching, he went out into the commons, accompanied by his ſon, to whom alone he communicated his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, too generally for the intereſt of ſcience, awaits unſucceſsful experiments in philoſophy. He placed himſelf under a ſhed to avoid the rain. His kite was raiſed. A thunder cloud paſſed over it. No ſign of electricity appeared. He almoſt deſpaired of ſucceſs; when ſuddenly he obſerved the looſe fibres of his ſtring to move ​towards an erect poſition. He now preſented his knuckle to the key, and received a ſtrong ſpark. How exquiſite muſt his ſenſations have been at this moment! On this experiment depended the fate of his theory. If he ſucceeded, his name would rank high amongſt thoſe who have improved ſcience; if he failed, he muſt inevitably be ſubjected to the deriſion of mankind, or, what is worſe, their pity, as a well-meaning man, but a weak, ſilly projector. The anxiety with which he looked for the reſult of his experiment, may eaſily be conceived. Doubts and deſpair had begun to prevail, when the fact was aſcertained in ſo clear a manner, that even the moſt incredulous could no longer withhold their aſſent. Repeated ſparks were drawn from the key, a phial was charged, a ſhock given, and all the experiments made, which are uſually performed with electricity.
About a month before this period, ſome ingenious Frenchmen had completed the diſcovery, in the manner originally propoſed by Dr. Franklin. The letters which he ſent to Mr. Collinſon, it is ſaid, were refuſed a place amongſt the papers of the Royal Society of London. However this may be, Collinſon publiſhed them in a ſeparate volume, under the title of New Experiments and Obſervations on Electricity, made at Philadelphia in America. They were read with avidity, and ſoon tranſlated into different languages. A very incorrect French tranſlation fell into the hands of the celebrated Buffon, who, notwithſtanding the diſadvantages under which the work laboured, was much pleaſed with it, and repeated the experiments with ſucceſs. He prevailed upon his friend, M. D'Alibard, to give to his countrymen a more correct tranſlation of the work of the American electrician. This contributed much ​towards ſpreading a knowledge of Franklin's principles in France. The King, Loius XV. hearing of theſe experiments, expreſſed a wiſh to be a ſpectator of them. A courſe of experiments was given at the ſeat of the Duc D’Ayen, at St. Germain, by M. De Lor. The applauſes which the King beſtowed upon Franklin, excited in Buffon, D'Alibard, and, De Lor, an earneſt deſire of aſcertaining the truth of his theory of thunder-guſts. Buffon erected his apparatus on the tower of Montbar, M D'Alibard at Mary-la-ville, and De Lor at his houſe in the Eſirapade at Paris, ſome of the higheſt ground in that capital. D'Alibard's machine firſt ſhewed ſigns of electricity. On the 10th of May, 1752, a thunder-cloud paſſed over it, in the abſence of M. D'Alibard; and a number of ſparks were drawn from it by Coiffier, a joiner, with whom D'Alibard had left directions how to proceed, and by M. Raulet, the prior of Mary-la-ville. An account of this experiment was given to the Royal Academy of Sciences, in a memoir by M. D'Alibard, dated May 13th, 1752. On the 18th of May, M. De Lor proved equally ſucceſsful with the apparatus erected at his own houſe. Theſe diſcoveries ſoon excited the philoſophers of other parts of Europe to repeat the experiment. Amongſt theſe, none ſignalized themſelves more than Father Beccaria of Turin, to whoſe obſervations ſcience is much indebted. Even the cold regions of Ruſſia were penetrated by the ardor for diſcovery. Profeſſor Richman bade fair to add much to the ſtock of knowledge on this ſubject, when an unfortunate flaſh from his rod put a period to his exiſtence. The friends of ſcience will long remember with regret the amiable martyr to electricity.
​By theſe experiments Franklin's theory was eſtabliſhed in the moſt firm manner. When the truth of it could no longer be doubted, the vanity of men endeavoured to detract from its merit. That an American, an inhabitant of the obſcure city of Philadelphia, the name of which was hardly known, ſhould be able to make diſcoveries, and to frame theories, which had eſcaped the notice of the enlightened philoſophers of Europe, was too mortifying to be admitted. He muſt certainly have taken the idea from ſome one elſe. An American, a being of an inferior order, make diſcoveries! Impoſſible. It was ſaid, that the Abbé Nollet, in 1748, had ſuggeſted the idea of the ſimilarity of lightning and electricity, in his Leçons de Phyſique. It is true, that the Abbe mentions the idea, but he throws it out as a bare conjecture, and propoſes no mode of aſcertaining the truth of it. He himſelf acknowledges, that Franklin firſt entertained the bold thought of bringing lightning from the heavens, by means of pointed rods fixed in the air. The ſimilarity of electricity and lightning is ſo ſtrong, that we need not be ſurpriſed at notice being taken of it, as ſoon as electrical phenomena be- came familiar. We find it mentioned by Dr. Wall and Mr. Grey, while the ſcience was in its infancy. But the honour of forming a regular theory of thunder-guſts, of ſuggeſting a mode of determining the truth of it by experiments, and of putting theſe experiments in practice, and thus eſtabliſhing his theory upon a firm and ſolid baſis, is inconteſtibly due to Franklin. D'Alibard, who made the firſt experiments in France, ſays, that he only followed the track which Franklin had pointed out.
It has been of late aſſerted, that the honour of completing the experiment with the electrical ​kite, does not belong to Franklin. Some late Engliſh paragraphs have attributed it to ſome Frenchman, whoſe name they do not mention; and the Abbé Bertholon gives it to M. De Romas, aſſeſſor to the preſideal of Nerac; the Engliſh paragraphs probably refer to the ſame perſon. But a very ſlight attention will convince us of the injuſtice of this procedure: Dr. Franklin's experiment was made in June 1752; and his letter, giving an account of it, is dated October 19, 1752. M. De Romas made his firſt attempt on the 14th of May 1753, but was not ſucceſsful until the 7th of June; a year after Franklin had completed the diſcovery, and when it was known to all the philoſophers in Europe.
Betides theſe great principles, Franklin's letters on electricity contain a number of facts and hints, which have contributed greatly towards reducing this branch of knowledge to a ſcience. His friend, Mr Kinnerſley, communicated to him a diſcovery of the different kinds of electricity excited by rubbing glaſs and ſulphur. This, we have laid, was firſt obſerved by M. Du Faye; but it was for many years neglected. The philoſophers were diſpoſed to account for the phenomena, rather from a difference in the quantity of electricity collected; and even Du Faye himſelf ſeems at laſt to have adopted this' doctrine. Franklin at firſt entertained the ſame idea; but upon repeating the experiments, he perceived that Mr. Kinnerſley was right; and that the vitreous and reſinous electricity of Du Faye were nothing more than the poſitive and negative ſtates which "he had before obſerved; that the glaſs globe charged poſitively, or increaſed the quantity of electricity on the prime conductor, whilſt the globe of ſulphur diminiſhed its natural quantity, or charged negatively. Theſe experiments and ​obſervations opened a new field for inveſtigation, upon which electricians entered with avidity; and their labours have added much to the ſtock of our knowledge.
In September 1752, Franklin entered upon a courſe of experiments, to determine the ſtate of electricity in the clouds. From a number of experiments he formed this concluſion: "that the clouds of a thunder-guſt are moſt commonly in a negative ſtate of electricity, but ſometimes in a poſitive ſtate;" and from this it follows, as a neceſſary conſequence, "that, for the moſt part, in thunder-ſtrokes, it is the earth that ſtrikes into the clouds, and not the clouds that ſtrike into the earth." The letter containing theſe obſervations is dated in September 1753; and yet the diſcovery of aſcending thunder has been ſaid to be of a modern date, and has been attributed to the Abbé Bertholon, who published his memoir, on the ſubject in 1776.
Franklin's letters have been tranſlated into moſt of the European languages, and into Latin. In proportion as they have become known, his principles have been adopted. Some oppoſition was made to his theories, particularly by the Abbé Nollet, who was, however, but feebly ſupported, whilſt the firſt philoſophers of Europe ſtepped forth in defence of Franklin's principles; amongſt whom D'Alibard and Beccaria were the moſt diſtinguiſhed. The oppoſition has gradually ceaſed, and the Franklinian ſyſtem is now univerſally adopted, where ſcience flouriſhes.
The important practical uſe which Franklin made of his diſcoveries, the ſecuring of houſes from injury by lightning, has been already mentioned. Pointed conductors are now very common in America; but prejudice has hitherto ​prevented their general introduction into Europe, notwithſtanding the moſt undoubted proofs of their utility have been given. But mankind can with difficulty be brought to lay aſide eſtabliſhed practices, or to adopt new ones. And perhaps we have more reaſon to be ſurpriſed that a practice, however rational, which was propoſed about forty years ago, ſhould in that time have been adopted in ſo many places, than that it has not univerſally prevailed. It is only by degrees that the great body of mankind can be led into new practices, however ſalutary their tendency. It is now nearly eighty years ſince inoculation was introduced into Europe and America; and it is ſo far from being general at preſent, that it will, perhaps, require one or two centuries to render it ſo.
In the year 1745, Franklin publiſhed an account of his new-invented Pennſylvania fireplaces, in which he minutely and accurately ſtates the advantages and diſadvantages of different kinds of fire-places; and endeavours to ſhew that the one which he deſcribes is to be preferred to any other. This contrivance has given rife to open ſtoves now in general uſe, which however differ from it in conſtruction, particularly in not having an air-box at the back, through which a conſtant ſupply of air, warmed in its paſſage, is thrown into the room. The advantages or this are, that as a ſtream of warm air is continually flowing into the room, leſs fuel is neceſſary to preſerve a proper temperature, and the room may be ſo tightened as that no air may enter through cracks; the conſequences 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 aſſembly of Pennſylvania, as a burgeſs for the city of Philadelphia. Warm diſputes at this time ſubſiſted between the aſſembly and the proprietaries; each contending for what they conceived to be their juſt rights. Franklin, a friend to the rights of man from his infancy, ſoon diſtinguiſhed himſelf as a ſteady opponent of the unjuſt ſchemes of the proprietaries. He was ſoon looked up to as the head of the oppoſition; and to him have been attributed many of the ſpirited replies of the aſſembly, to the meſſages of the governors. His influence in the body was very great. This aroſe not from any ſuperior powers of eloquence; he ſpoke but ſeldom, and he never was known to make any thing like an elaborate harangue. His ſpeeches often conſiſted of a ſingle ſentence, or of a well-told ſtory, the moral of which was always obviouſly to the point. He never attempted the
flowery fields of oratory. His manner was plain and mild. His ſtyle in ſpeaking was, like that of his writings, ſimple, unadorned, and remarkably conciſe. With this plain manner, and his penetrating and ſolid judgment, he was able to confound the moſt eloquent and ſubtle of his adverſaries, to confirm the opinions of his friends, and to make converts of the unprejudiced who had oppoſed him. With a ſingle obſervation, he has rendered of no avail an elegant and lengthy diſcourſe, and determined the fate of a queſtion of importance.
But he was not contented with thus ſupporting the rights of the people. He wiſhed to render them permanently ſecure, which can only be done by making their value properly known; and this muſt depend upon increaſing and extending information to every claſs of men. We have already ſeen that he was the founder of the ​public library, which contributed greatly towards improving the minds of the citizens. But this was not ſufficient. The ſchools then ſubſiſting were in general of little utility. The teachers were men ill qualified for the important duty which they had undertaken; and, after all, nothing more could be obtained than the rudiments of a common Engliſh education. Franklin drew up a plan of an academy, to be erected in the city of Philadelphia, ſuited to "the ſtate of an infant country;" but in this, as in all his plans, he confined not his views to the preſent time only. He looked forward to the period when an inſtitution on an enlarged plan would become neceſſary. With this view he conſidered his academy as "a foundation for poſterity to erect a ſeminary of learning, more extenſive, and ſuitable to future circumſtances." In purſuance of this plan, the conſtitutions were drawn up and ſigned on the 13th of November 1749. In theſe, twenty-four of the moſt reſpectable citizens of Philadelphia were named as truſtees. In the choice of theſe and in the formation of his plan, Franklin is ſaid to have conſulted chiefly with Thomas Hopkinſon, Eſq; Rev. Richard Peters, then ſecretary of the province, Tench Francis, Eſq; attorney-general, and Dr. Phineas Bond.
The following article ſhews a ſpirit of benevolence worthy of imitation; and, for the honour of our city, we hope that it continues to be in force.
"In caſe of the diſability of the rector, or any mailer (eſtabliſhed on the foundation by receiving a certain ſalary), through ſickneſs, or any other natural infirmity, whereby he may be reduced to poverty, the truſtees ſhall have power to contribute to his ſupport, in proportion to his ​his diſtreſs and merit, and the flock in their hands."
The laſt clauſe of the fundamental rules is expreſſed in language ſo tender and benevolent, ſo truly parental, that it would do everlaſting honour to the hearts and heads of the founders.
"It is hoped and expected that the truſtees will make it their pleaſure, and in ſome degree their buſineſs, to viſit the academy often; to encourage and countenance the youth, countenance and aſſiſt the maſters, and, by all means in their power, advance the uſefulneſs and reputation of the deſign; that they will look on the ſtudents as, in ſome meaſure, their own children, treat them with familiarity and affection; and when they have behaved well, gone through their ſtudies, and are to enter the world, they mail 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, preferable to all other perſons whatſoever, even of equal merit."
The conſtitutions being ſigned and made public, with the names of the gentlemen propoſing themſelves as truſtees and founders, the deſign was ſo well approved of by the public-ſpirited citizens of Philadelphia, that the ſum of eight hundred pounds per annum, for five years, was in the courſe of a few weeks ſubſcribed for carrying it into execution; and in the beginning of January following (viz. 1750) three of the ſchools were opened, namely, the Latin and Greek ſchools, the Mathematical, and the Engliſh ſchools. In purſuance of an article in the original plan, a ſchool for educating ſixty boys and thirty girls (in the charter ſince called the Charitable School) was opened, and amidſt all the difficulties with which the truſtees have ſtruggled ​in reſpect to their funds, has till been continued full for the ſpace of forty years; ſo that allowing three years education for each boy and girl admitted into it, which is the general rule, at leaſt twelve hundred children have received in it the chief part of their education, who might otherwiſe, in a great meaſure, have been left without the means of inſtruction. And many of thoſe who have been thus educated, are now to be found among the moſt uſeful and reputable citizens of this ſtate.
The inſtitution, thus ſucceſsfully begun, continued daily to flouriſh, to the great ſatisfaction of Dr. Franklin; who, notwithſtanding the multiplicity of his other engagements and purſuits, at that buſy ſtage of his life, was a conſtant attendant at the monthly viſitations and examinations of the ſchools, and made it his particular ſtudy, by means of his extenſive correſpondence abroad, to advance the reputation of the ſeminary, and to draw ſtudents and ſcholars to it from different parts of America and the Weſt Indies. Through the interpoſition of his benevolent and learned friend^ Peter Collinſon, of London, upon the application of the truſtees, a charter of incorporation, dated July 13th, 1753, was obtained from the honourable proprietors of Pennſylvania, Thomas Penn and Richard Penn, Eſqrs. accompanied with a liberal benefaction of five hundred pounds ſterling; and Dr. Franklin now began in good earneſt to pleaſe himſelf with the hopes of a ſpeedy accompliſhment of his original deſign, viz. the eſtabliſhment of a perfect inſtitution, upon the plan of the European colleges, and univerſities; for which his academy was intended as a nurſery or foundation. To elucidate this fact, is a matter of conſiderable importance in reſpect to the memory and character of Dr. ​Franklin, as a philoſopher, and as the friend and patron of learning and ſcience; for, notwithſtanding what is expreſsly declared by him in the preamble to the conſtitutions, viz. that the academy was begun for "teaching the Latin and Greek languages, with all uſeful branches of the arts and ſciences, ſuitable to the ſtate of an infant country, and laying a foundation for poſterity to erect a ſeminary of learning more extenſive, and ſuitable to their future circumſtances;" yet it has been ſuggeſted of late, as upon Dr. Franklin's authority, that the Latin and Greek, or the dead languages, are an incumbrance upon a ſcheme of liberal education, and that the engraſting or founding a college, or more extenſive ſeminary, upon his academy, was without his approbation or agency, and gave him diſcontent. If the reverſe of this does not already appear, from what has been quoted above, the following letters will put the matter beyond diſpute. They were written by him to a gentleman, who had at that time publiſhed the idea of a college, ſuited to the circumſtances of a young country (meaning New-York), a copy of which having been ſent to Dr. Franklin for his opinion, gave rife to that correſpondence which terminated about a year afterwards, in erecting the college upon the foundation of the academy, and eſtabliſhing that gentleman as the head of both, where he ſtill continues, after a period of thirty-fix years, to preſide with diſtinguiſhed reputation.
From theſe letters alſo, the ſtate of the academy, at that time, will be ſeen.
Philad. April 19th, 1753.
sir,
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 next poſt.
I believe the young gentlemen, your pupils, may be entertained and inſtructed here, in mathematics and philoſophy, to ſatisfaction. Mr. Aliſon (who was educated at Glaſgow) has been long accuſtomed to teach the latter, and Mr. Grew the former; and I think their pupils make great progreſs. Mr. Aliſon has the care of the Latin and Greek ſchool, but as he has now three good aſſiſtants, he can very well afford ſome hours every day for the inftruction of thoſe who are engaged in higher ſtudies. The mathematical ſchool is pretty well furniſhed with inſtruments. The Engliſh library is a good one; and we have belonging to it a middling apparatus for experimental philoſophy, and purpoſe ſpeedily to complete it. The Loganian library, one of the beſt collections in America, will ſhortly be opened; ſo that neither books nor inſtruments will be wanting; and as we are determined always to give good ſalaries, we have reaſon to believe we may have always an opportunity of chooſing good maſters; upon which, indeed, the ſucceſs of the whole depends. We are obliged to you for your kind offers in this reſpect, ​and when you are ſettled in England, we may occaſionally make uſe of your friendſhip and judgment.—
If it ſuits your conveniency to viſit Philadelphia before your return to Europe, I mall be extremely glad to ſee and converſe with you here, as well as to correſpond with you after your ſettlement in England; for an acquaintance and communication with men of learning, virtue, and public ſpirit, is one of my greateſt enjoyments.
I do not know whether you ever happened to ſee the firſt proposals I made for erecting this academy. I ſend them incloſed. They had (however imperfect) the deſired ſucceſs, being followed by a ſubſcription of four thouſand pounds, towards carrying them into execution. And as we are fond of receiving advice, and are daily improving by experience, I am in hopes we ſhall, in a few years, ſee a perfect inſtitution.
I am very reſpectfully, &c.
B. FRANKLIN.
Mr. W. Smith, Long-Iſland.
Philad. May 3d, 1753.
sir,
Mr. Peters has juſt now been with me, and we have compared notes on your new piece. We find nothing in the ſcheme of education, however excellent, but what is, in our opinion, very practicable. The great difficulty will be to find the Aratus, and other ſuitable perſons, to carry it ​into execution; but ſuch may be had if proper encouragement be given. We have both received great pleaſure in the peruſal of it. For my part, I know not when I have read a piece that has more affected me ſo noble and juſt are the ſentiments, ſo warm and animated the language; yet as cenſure from your friends may be of more life, as well as more agreeable to you than praiſe, I ought to mention, that I wiſh you had omitted not only the quotation from the Review, which you are now juſtly diſſatisfied with, but thoſe expreſſions of reſentment againſt your adverſaries, in pages 65 and 79. In ſuch caſes, the nobleſt victory is obtained by neglect, and by ſhining on. Mr. Allen has been out of town theſe ten days; but before he went he directed me to procure him ſix copies of your piece. Mr. Peters has taken ten. He purpoſed to have written to you; but omits it, as he expects ſo ſoon to have the pleaſure of ſeeing you here. He deſires me to preſent his affectionate compliments to you, and to aſſure you that you will be very welcome to him. I ſhall only ſay, that you may depend on my doing all in my power to make your viſit to Philadelphia agreeable to you.
I am, &c,
B. FRANKLIN
Mr. Smith.
Philad. Nov. 27th, 1753.
dear sir,
Having written you fully, via Briſtol, I have now little to add. Matters relating to the ​academy remain in ſtatu quo. The truſtees would be glad to ſee a rector eſtabliſhed there, but they dread entering into new engagements till they are got out of debt and I have not yet got them wholly over to my opinion, that a good profeſſor, or teacher of the higher branches of learning, would draw ſo many ſcholars as to pay great part, if not the whole of his ſalary. Thus, unleſs the proprietors (of the province) ſhall think fit to put the finiſhing hand to our inſtitution, it muſt, I fear, wait ſome few years longer before it can arrive at that ſtate of perfection, which to me it ſeems now capable of; and all the pleaſure I promiſed myſelf in ſeeing you ſettled among us, vaniſhes into ſmoke.
But good Mr. Collinſon writes me word, that no endeavours of his ſhall be wanting; and he hopes, with the archbiſhop's aſſiſtance, to be able to prevail with our proprietors. I pray God grant them ſucceſs.
My ſon preſents his affectionate regards, with, dear Sir,
Yours, &c.
B. FRANKLIN.
P. S. I have not been favoured with a line from you ſince 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 a ſhort one, via
​Boſton, dated October 18th, acquainting me that you had written largely by Capt. Davis. Davis was loſt, and with him your letters, to my great diſappointment.—Meſnard and Gibbon have ſince arrived here, and I hear nothing from you.—My comfort is, an imagination that you only omit writing becauſe you are coming, and purpoſe to tell me every thing viva voce. So not knowing whether this letter will reach you, and hoping either to ſee or hear from you by the Myrtilla, Capt. Budden's ſhip, which is daily expected, I only add, that I am, with great eſteem and affection.
Yours, &c,
B. FRANKLIN.
Mr. Smith.
About a month after the date of this laſt letter, the gentleman to whom it was addreſſed arrived in Philadelphia, and was immediately placed at the head of the ſeminary; whereby Dr. Franklin and the other truſtees were enabled to proſecute their plan, for perfecting the inſtitution, and opening the college upon the large and liberal foundation on which it now ſtands; for which purpoſe they obtained their additional charter, dated May 27th, 1755.
Thus far we thought it proper to exhibit in one view Dr. Franklin's ſervices in the foundation and eſtabliſhment of this ſeminary. He ſoon afterward embarked for England, in the public ſervice of his country; and having been generally employed abroad, in the like ſervice, for the greateſt part of the remainder of his life (as will appear in our ſubſequent account of the ſame), he had but few opportunities of taking any ​further active part in the affairs of the ſeminary, until his final return in the year 1785, when he found its charters violated, and his ancient colleagues, the original founders, deprived of their truſt, by an act of the legiſlature; and although his own name had been inſerted among the new truſtees, yet he declined to take his ſeat among them, or have any concern in the management of their affairs, till the inſtitution was reſtored by law to its original owners. He then aſſembled his old colleagues at his own houſe, and being choſen their preſident, all their future meetings were, at his requeſt, held there, till within a few months of his death, when with reluctance, and at their deſire, leſt he might be too much injured by his attention to their buſineſs, he ſuffered them to meet at the college.
Franklin not only gave birth to many uſeful inſtitutions himſelf, but he was alſo inſtrumental in promoting thoſe which had originated with other men. About the year 1752, an eminent phyſician of this city, Dr. Bond, conſidering the deplorable ſtate of the poor, when viſited with diſeaſe, conceived the idea of eſtabliſhing an hoſpital. Notwithſtanding very great exertions on his part, he was able to intereſt few people ſo far in his benevolent plan, as to obtain ſubſcriptions from them. Unwilling that his ſcheme ſhould prove abortive, he ſought the aid of Franklin, who readily engaged in the buſineſs, both by uſing his influence with his friends, and by ſtating the advantageous influence of the propoſed inſtitution in his paper. Theſe efforts were attended with ſucceſs. Conſiderable ſums were ſubſcribed; but they were ſtill ſhort of what was neceſſary. Franklin now made another exertion. He applied to the aſſembly; and, after ſome oppoſition, obtained leave to bring in a bill, ſpecifying, that ​as ſoon as two thouſand pounds were ſubſcribed, the fame fum ſhould be drawn from the treaſury by the ſpeaker's warrant, to be applied to the purpoſes of the inſtitution. The oppoſition, as the ſum was granted upon a contingency which they ſuppoſed would never take place, were ſilent, and the bill paſſed. The friends of the plan now redoubled their efforts, to obtain ſubſcriptions to the amount ſtated in the bill, and were ſoon ſucceſsful. This was the foundation of the Pennſylvania Hoſpital, which, with the Bettering-houſe and Diſpenſary, bears ample teſtimony of the humanity of the citizens of Philadelphia.
Dr. Franklin had conducted himſelf ſo well in the office of poft-maſter, and had ſhown himſelf to be ſo well acquainted with the buſineſs of that department, that it was thought expedient to raiſe him to a more dignified ſtation. In 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 colonies. In the hands of Franklin, it is ſaid, that the poſt-office in America yielded annually thrice as much as that of Ireland.
The American colonies were much expoſed to depredations on their frontiers, by the Indians; and more particularly whenever a war took place between France and England. The colonies, individually, were either too weak to take efficient meaſures for their own defence, or they were unwilling to take upon themſelves the whole burden of erecting forts and maintaining garriſons, whilſt their neighbours, who partook equally with themſelves of the advantages, contributed nothing to the expence. Sometimes ​alſo the diſputes, which ſubſiſted between the governors and aſſemblies, prevented the adoption of means of defence; as we have ſeen was the caſe in Pennſylvania in 1745. To deviſe a plan of union between the colonies, to regulate this and other matters, appeared a deſirable object. To accompliſh this, in the year 1754, commiſſioners from New-Hampſhire, Maſſachuſetts, Rhode-Iſland, New-Jerſey, Pennſylvania, and Maryland, met at Albany. Dr. Franklin attended here, as a commiſſioner from Pennſylvania, and produced a plan, which, from the place of meeting, has been uſually termed "The Albany Plan of Union." This propoſed, that application ſhould be made for an act of parliament, to eſtabliſh in the colonies a general government, to be adminiſtered by a preſident-general, appointed by the crown, and by a grand council, conſiſting of members choſen by the repreſentatives of the different colonies; their number to be in direct proportion to the ſums paid by each colony into the general treaſury, with this reſtriction, that no colony ſhould have more than ſeven, nor leſs than two repreſentatives. The whole executive authority was committed to the preſident-general. The power of legiſlation was lodged in the grand council and preſident-general jointly; his conſent being made neceſſary to paſſing a bill into a law. The power veſted in the preſident and council were, to declare war and peace, and to conclude treaties with the Indian nations; to regulate trade with, and to make purchaſes of vacant lands from them, either in the name of the crown, or of the union; to ſettle new colonies, to make laws for governing theſe until they ſhould be erected into ſeparate governments, and to raiſe troops, build forts, fit out armed veſſels, and uſe other means for the general ​defence: and, to effect theſe things, a power was given to make laws, laying ſuch duties, impoſts, or taxes, as they ſhould find neceſſary, and as would be leaſt burthenſome to the people. All laws were to be ſent to England for the king's approbation; and unleſs disapproved of within three years, were to remain in force. All officers in the land or ſea ſervice were to be nominated by the preſident-general, and approved of by the general council; civil officers were to be nominated by the council, and approved by the preſident. Such are the outlines of the plan propoſed, for the conſideration of the congreſs, by Dr. Franklin. After ſeveral days diſcuſſion, it was unanimouſly agreed to by the commiſſioners, a copy tranſmitted to each aſſembly, and one to the king's council. The fate of it was ſingular. It was diſapproved of by the miniſtry of Great Britain, becauſe it gave too much power to the representatives of the people; and it was rejected by every aſſembly, as giving to the preſident-general, the repreſentative of the crown, an influence greater than appeared to them proper, in a plan of government intended for freemen. Perhaps this rejection, on both ſides, is the ſtrongeſt proof that could be adduced of the excellence of it, as ſuited to the ſituation of America and Great-Britain at that time. It appears to have ſteered exactly in the middle, between the oppoſite intereſts of both.
Whether the adoption of this plan would have prevented the ſeparation of America from Great Britain, is a queſtion which might afford much room for ſpeculation. It may be ſaid, that, by enabling the colonies to defend themſelves, it would have removed the pretext upon which the ſtamp-act, tea-act, and other acts of the Britiſh parliament, were paſſed; which excited a ſpirit ​of oppoſition, and laid the foundation for the ſeparation of the two countries. But, on the other hand, it muſt be admitted, that the reſtriction laid by Great-Britain upon our commerce, obliging us to ſell our produce to her citizens only, and to take from them various articles, of which, as our manufactures were diſcouraged, we ſtood in need, at a price greater than that for which they could have been obtained from other nations, muſt inevitably produce diſſatiſfaction, even though no duties were impoſed by the parliament; a circumſtance which might ſtill have taken place. Beſides, as the preſident-general was to be appointed by the crown, he muſt, of neceſſity, be devoted to its views, and would, therefore, refuſe his aſſent to any laws, however ſalutary to the community, which had the moſt remote tendency to injure the intereſts of his ſovereign. Even ſhould they receive his aſſent, the approbation of the king was to be neceſſary; who would indubitably, in every inſtance, prefer the advantage of his home dominions to that of his colonies. Hence would enſue perpetual diſagreements between the council and the preſident-general, and thus, between the people of America and the crown of Great-Britain:——While the colonies continued weak, they would be obliged to ſubmit, and as ſoon as they acquired ſtrength they would become more urgent in their demands, until, at length, they would ſhake of the yoke, and declare themſelves independent.
Whilſt the French were in poſſeſſion of Canada, their trade with the natives extended very far; even to the back of the Britiſh ſettlements. They were diſpoſed, from time to time, to eſtabliſh poſts within the territory, which the Engliſh claimed as their own. Independent of the injury to the fur-trade, which was conſiderable, ​the colonies ſuffered this further inconvenience, that the Indians were frequently inſtigated to commit depredations on their frontiers. In the year 1753, encroachments were made upon the boundaries of Virginia. Remonſtrances had no effect. In the enſuing year, a body of men was ſent out under the command of Mr. Waſhington, who, though a very young man, had, by his conduct in the preceding year, ſhewn himſelf worthy of ſuch an important truſt. Whilſt marching to take poſſeſſion of the poſt at the junction of the Allegany and Monongahela, he was informed that the French had already erected a fort there. A detachment of their men marched againſt him. He fortified himſelf as ſtrongly as time and circumſtances would admit. A ſuperiority of numbers ſoon obliged him to ſurrender Fort Neceſſity. He obtained honourable terms for himſelf and men, and returned to Virginia. The government of Great-Britain now thought it neceſſary to interfere. In the year 1755, General Braddock, with ſome regiments of regular troops, and provincial levies, was ſent to diſpoſſeſs the French of the poſts upon which they had ſeized. After the men were all ready, a difficulty occurred, which had nearly prevented the expedition. This was the want of wagons. Franklin now ſtepped forward, and with the aſſiſtance of his ſon, in a little time procured a hundred and fifty. Braddock unfortunately fell into an ambuſcade, and periſhed, with a number of his men. Waſhington, who had accompanied him as an aid-de-camp, and had warned him, in vain, of his danger, now diſplayed great military talents in effecting a retreat of the remains of the army, and in forming a junction with the rear, under colonel Dunbar, upon whom the chief command now devolved. ​With ſome difficulty they brought their little body to a place of ſafety; but they found it neceſſary to deſtroy their waggons and baggage, to prevent them from falling into the hands of the enemy. For the waggons which he had furniſhed, Franklin had given bonds to a large amount. The owners declared their intentions of obliging him to make a reſtitution of their property. Had they put their threats in execution, ruin muſt inevitably have been the conſequence. Governor Shirley, finding that he had incurred theſe debts for the ſervice of government, made arrangements to have them diſcharged, and releaſed Franklin from his diſagreeable ſituation.
The alarm ſpread through the colonies, after the defeat of Braddock, was very great. Preparations to arm were every where made. In Pennſylvania, the prevalence of the quaker intereſt prevented the adoption of any ſyſtem of defence, which would compel the citizens to bear arms. Franklin, introduced into the aſſembly a bill for organizing a militia, by which every man was allowed to take arms or not, as to him ſhould appear fit. The quakers, being thus left at liberty, ſuffered the bill to paſs; for although their principles would not ſuffer them to fight, they had no objections to their neighbours fighting for them. In conſequence of this act a very reſpectable militia was formed. The ſenſe of impending danger infuſed a military ſpirit in all, whoſe religious tenets were not oppoſed to war. Franklin was appointed colonel of a regiment in Philadelphia, which conſiſted of 1200 men.
The north-western frontier being invaded by the enemy, it became neceſſary to adopt meaſures for its defence. Franklin was directed by the governor to take charge of this buſineſs. A ​power of raiſing men, and of appointing officers to command them, was 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 the garriſon in ſuch a poſture of defence, as would enable them to withſtand the inroads, to which the inhabitants had previouſly been expoſed. He remained here for ſome time, in order the more completely to diſcharge the truſt committed to him. Some buſineſs of importance at length rendered his preſence neceſſary in the aſſembly, and he returned to Philadelphia.
The defence of her colonies was a great expence to Great Britain. The moſt effectual mode of leſſening this was, to put arms into the hands of the inhabitants, and to teach them their uſe. But England wiſhed not that the Americans ſhould become acquainted with their own ſtrength. She was apprehenſive, that, as ſoon as this period arrived, they would no longer ſubmit to that monopoly of their trade, which to them was highly injurious, but extremely advantageous to the mother country. In compariſon with the profits of this, the expence of maintaining armies and fleets to defend them was trifling. She fought to keep them dependent upon her for her protection, the beſt plan which, could be deviſed for retaining them in peaceable ſubjection. The leaſt appearance of a military ſpirit was therefore to be guarded againſt, and, although a war then raged, the act organizing a militia was diſapproved of by the miniſtry. The regiments which had been formed under it were diſbanded, and the defence of the province entruſted to regular troops.
The diſputes between the proprietaries and the people continued in full force, although a war ​was raging on the frontiers. Not even the ſenſe of danger was ſufficient to reconcile, for ever ſo ſhort a time, their jarring intereſts. The aſſembly ſtill infilled upon the juſtice of taxing the proprietary eſtates, but the governors conſtantly refuſed to give their aſſent to this meaſure, without which no bill could paſs into a law. Enraged at the obſtinacy, and what they conceived to be unjuſt proceedings of their opponents, the aſſembly at length determined to apply to the mother country for relief. A petition was addreſſed to the king, in council, ſtating the inconveniencies under which the inhabitants laboured, from the attention of the proprietaries to their private intereſts, to the neglect of the general welfare of the community, and praying for redreſs. Franklin was appointed to preſent this addreſs, as agent for the province of Pennſylvania, and departed from America in June 1757. In conformity to the inſtructions which he had received from the legiſlature, he held a conference with the proprietaries, who then reſided in England, and endeavoured to prevail upon them to give up the long-conteſted point. Finding that they would hearken to no terms of accommodation, he laid his petition before the council. During this time governor Denny aſſented to a law impoſing a tax, in which no diſcrimination was made in favour of the eſtates of the Penn family. They, alarmed at this intelligence, and Franklin's exertions, uſed their utmoſt endeavours to prevent the royal ſanction being given to this law, which they repreſented as highly iniquitous, deſigned to throw the burthen of ſupporting government upon them, and calculated to produce the moſt ruinous conſequences to them and their poſterity. The cauſe was amply diſcuſſed before the privy council. The Penns found here ſome ſtrenuous advocates; ​nor were there wanting ſome who warmly eſpouſed the ſide of the people. After ſome time ſpent in debate, a propoſal was made, that Franklin ſhould ſolemnly engage, that the aſſeſſment of the tax ſhould be ſo made, as that the proprietary eſtates ſhould pay no more than a due proportion. This he agreed to perform, the Penn family withdrew their oppoſition, and tranquility was thus once more reſtored to the province.
The mode in which this diſpute was terminated is a ſtriking proof of the high opinion entertained of Franklin's integrity and honour, even by thoſe who conſidered him as inimical to their views. Nor was their confidence ill founded. The aſſeſſment was made upon the ſtricteſt principles of equity; and the proprietary eſtates bore only a proportionable ſhare of the expences of ſupporting government.
After the completion of this important buſineſs, Franklin remained at the court of Great Britain, as agent for the province of Pennſylvania. The extenſive knowledge which he poſſeſſed of the ſituation of the colonies, and the regard which he always manifeſted for their intereſts, occaſioned his appointment to the ſame office by the colonies of Massachusetts, Maryland, and Georgia. His conduct, in this ſituation, was ſuch as rendered him ſtill more dear to his countrymen.
He had now an opportunity of indulging in the ſociety of thoſe friends, whom his merits had procured him while at a diſtance. The regard which they had entertained for him was rather increaſed by a perſonal acquaintance. The oppoſition which had been made to his diſcoveries in philoſophy gradually ceaſed, and the rewards of literary merit were abundantly conferred upon him. The royal ſociety of London, which had ​at firſt refuſed his performances admiſſion into its tranſactions, now thought it an honour to rank him amongſt its fellows. Other ſocieties of Europe were equally ambitious of calling him a member. The univerſity of St. Andrews, in Scotland, conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Laws. Its example was followed by the univerſities of Edinburgh and of Oxford. His correſpondence was ſought for by the moſt eminent philoſophers of Europe. His letters to theſe abound with true ſcience, delivered in the moſt ſimple unadorned manner.
The province of Canada was at this time in the poſſeſſion of the French, who had originally ſettled it. The trade with the Indians, for which its ſituation was very convenient, was exceedingly lucrative. The French traders here found a market for their commodities, and received in return large quantities of rich furs, which they diſpoſed of at a high price in Europe. Whilſt the poſſeſſion of this country was highly advantageous to France, it was a grievous inconvenience to the inhabitants of the Britiſh colonies. The Indians were almoſt generally deſirous to cultivate the friendſhip of the French, by whom they were abundantly ſupplied with arms and ammunition. Whenever a war happened, the Indians were ready to fall upon the frontiers: and this they frequently did, even when Great Britain and France were at peace. From theſe conſiderations, it appeared to be the intereſt of Great Britain to gain the poſſeſſion of Canada. But the importance of ſuch an acquiſition was not well underſtood in England. Franklin about this time publiſhed his Canada pamphlet, in which he, in a very forcible manner, pointed out the- advantages which would reſult from the conqueſt of this province.
​An expedition againſt it was planned, and the command given to General Wolfe. His ſucceſs is well known. At the treaty in 1762, France ceded Canada to Great Britain, and by her ceſſion of Louiſiana, at the ſame time, relinquiſhed all her poſſeſſions on the continent of America.
Although Dr. Franklin was now principally occupied with political purſuits, he found time for philoſophical ſtudies. He extended his electrical reſearches, and made a variety of experiments, particularly on the tourmalin. The ſingular properties which this ſtone poſſeſſes of being electrified on one ſide poſitively and on the other negatively, by heat alone, without friction, had been but lately obſerved.
Some experiments on the cold produced by evaporation, made by Dr. Cullen, had been communicated to Dr. Franklin, by Profeſſor Simpſon of Glaſgow. Theſe he repeated, and found, that, by the evaporation of ether in the exhauſted receiver of an air-pump, ſo great a degree of cold was produced in a ſummer's day, that water was converted into ice. This diſcovery he applied to the ſolution of a number of phenomena, particularly a ſingular fact, which philoſophers had endeavoured in vain to account for, viz. that the temperature of the human body, when in health, never exceeds 96 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer, although the atmoſphere which ſurrounds it may be heated to a much greater degree. This he attributed to the increased perſpiration and conſequent evaporation, produced by the heat.
In a letter to Mr. Small of London, dated in May 1760, Dr. Franklin makes a number of obſervations, tending to ſhew that, in North America, north-eaſt ſtorms begin in the ſouth-weft parts. It appears, from actual obſervation, that a north-call ſtorm, which extended a ​conſiderable diſtance, commenced at Philadelphia nearly four hours before it was felt at Boſton. He endeavoured to account for this, by ſuppoſing that, from heat, ſome rarefaction takes place about the gulph of Mexico, that the air further north being cooler ruſhes in, and is ſucceeded by the cooler and denſer air ſtill further north, and that thus a continued 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. Pockrich, an Iriſhman, by placing on a table a number of glaſſes of different ſizes, and tuning them by partly filling them with water, endeavoured to form an inſtrument capable of playing tunes. He was prevented by an untimely end, from bringing his invention to any degree of perfection. After his death ſome improvements were made upon his plan. The ſweetneſs of the tones induced Dr. Franklin to make a variety of experiments; and he at length formed that elegant inſtrument, which he has called the Armonica.
In the ſummer of 1762 he returned to America. On his paſſage he obſerved the ſingular effect produced by the agitation of a veſſel, containing oil floating on water. The ſurface of the oil remains ſmooth and undiſturbed, whilſt the water is agitated with the utmoſt commotion. No ſatisfactory explanation of this appearance has, we believe, ever been given.
Dr. Franklin received the thanks of the aſſembly of Pennſylvania, "as well for the faithful diſcharge of his duty to that province in particular, as for the many and important ſervices done to America in general, during his reſidence in Great Britain." A compenſation of 5000l. Pennſylvania currency was alſo decreed him for his ſervices during ſix years.
​During his abſence he had been annually elected member of the aſſembly. On his return to Pennſylvania he again took his ſeat in this body, and continued a ſteady defender of the liberties of the people.
In December 1762, a circumſtance which cauſed great alarm in the province took place. A number of Indians had reſided in the county of Lancaſter, and conducted themſelves uniformly as friends to the white inhabitants. Repeated depredations on the frontiers had exaſperated the inhabitants to ſuch a degree, that they determined on revenge upon every Indian. A number of perſons, to the amount of about 120, principally inhabitants of Donnegal and Peckſtang or Paxton townſhips, in the county of York, aſſembled; and, mounted on horſeback, proceeded to the ſettlement of theſe harmleſs and defenceleſs Indians, whoſe number had now been reduced to about twenty. The Indians received intelligence of the attack which was intended againſt them, but diſbelieved it. Conſidering the white people as their friends, they apprehended no danger from them. When the party arrived at the Indian ſettlement, they found only ſome women and children, and a few old men, the reſt being abſent at work. They murdered all whom they found, and amongſt others the chief Shahaes, who had been always diſtinguiſhed for his friendſhip to the whites. This bloody deed excited much indignation in the well-diſpoſed part of the community.
The remainder of theſe unfortunate Indians, who, by abſence, had eſcaped the maſſacre, were conducted to Lancaſter, and lodged in the gaol as a place of ſecurity. The governor iſſued a proclamation expreſſing the ſtrongeſt diſapprobation of the action, offering a reward for the diſcovery ​of the perpetrators of the deed, and prohibiting all injuries to the peaceable Indians in future. But, notwithſtanding this, a party of the ſame men ſhortly after marched to Lancaſter, broke open the gaol, and inhumanly butchered the innocent Indians who had been placed there for ſecurity. Another proclamation was iſſued, but it had no effect. A detachment marched down to Philadelphia, for the expreſs purpoſe of murdering ſome friendly Indians, who had been removed to the city for ſafety. A number of the citizens armed in their defence. The Quakers, whoſe principles are oppoſed to fighting, even in their own defence, were moſt active upon this occaſion. The rioters came to Germantown. The governor fled for ſafety to the houſe of Dr. Franklin, who, with ſome others, advanced to meet the Paxton boys, as they were called, and had influence enough to prevail upon them to relinquiſh their undertaking, and return to their homes.
The diſputes between the proprietaries and the aſſembly, which, for a time, had ſubſided, were again revived. The proprietaries were diſſatisfied with the conceſſions made in favour of the people, and made great ſtruggles to recover the privilege of exempting their eſtates from taxation, which they had been induced to give up.
In 1763 the aſſembly paſſed a militia bill, to which the governor refuſed to give his aſſent, unleſs the aſſembly would agree to certain amendments which he propoſed. Theſe conſiſted in increaſing the fines, and, in ſome caſes, ſubſtituting death for fines. He wiſhed too that the officers ſhould be appointed altogether by himſelf, and not be nominated by the people, as the bill had propoſed. Theſe amendments the aſſembly conſidered as inconſiſtent with the ſpirit of liberty. ​They would not adopt them; the governor was obſtinate, and the bill was loſt.
Theſe, and various other circumſtances, encreaſed the uneaſineſs which ſubſiſted between the proprietaries and the aſſembly, to ſuch a degree, that, in 1764, a petition to the king was agreed to by the houſe, praying an alteration from a proprietary to a regal government. Great oppoſition was made to this meaſure, not only in the houſe, but in the public prints. A ſpeech of Mr. Dickenſon, on the ſubject, was publiſhed, with a preface by Dr. Smith, in which great pains were taken to ſhew the impropriety and impolicy of this proceeding. A ſpeech of Mr. Galloway, in reply to Mr. Dickenſon, was publiſhed, accompanied with a preface by Dr. Franklin; in which he ably oppoſed the principles laid down in the preface to Mr Dickenſon's ſpeech. This application to the throne produced no effect. The proprietary government was ſtill continued.
At the election for a new aſſembly, in the fall of 1764, the friends of the proprietaries made great exertions to exclude thoſe of the adverſe party; and they obtained a ſmall majority in the city of Philadelphia. Franklin now loſt his ſeat in the houſe, which he had held for fourteen years. On the meeting of the aſſembly, it appeared that there was ſtill a decided majority of Franklin's friends. He was immediately appointed provincial agent, to the great chagrin of his enemies, who made a ſolemn proteſt againſt his appointment; which was refuſed admiſſion upon the minutes, as being unprecedented. It was, however, publiſhed in the papers, and produced a ſpirited reply from him, juſt before his departure for England.
The diſturbances produced in America by Mr. Grenville's ſtamp-act, and the oppoſition made to ​it, are well known. Under the marquis of Rockingham's adminiſtration, it appeared expedient to endeavour to calm the minds of the coloniſts; and the repeal of the odious tax was contemplated. Amongſt other means of collecting information on the diſpoſition of the people to ſubmit to it, Dr. Franklin was called to the bar of the houſe of commons. The examination which he here underwent was publiſhed, and contains a ſtriking proof of the extent and accuracy of his information, and the facility with which he communicated his ſentiments. He repreſented facts in ſo ſtrong a point of view, that the inexpediency of the act muſt have appeared clear to every unprejudiced mind. The act, after ſome oppoſition, was repealed, about a year after it was enacted, and before it had ever been carried into execution.
In the year 1766, he made a viſit to Holland and Germany, and received the greateſt marks of attention from men of ſcience. In his paſſage through Holland, he learned from the watermen the effect which a diminution of the quantity of water in canals has, in impeding the progreſs of boats. Upon his return to England, he was led to make a number of experiments; all of which tended to confirm the obſervation. Theſe, with an explanation of the phenomenon, he communicated in a letter to his friend, Sir John Pringle, which is contained in the volume of his philoſophical pieces.
In the following year he travelled into where he met with a no leſs favourable reception than he had experienced in Germany. He was introduced to a number of literary characters, and to the king, Louis XV.
Several letters, written by Hutchinſon, Oliver, and others, to perſons in eminent ſtations in Great-Britain, came into the hands of Dr. ​Franklin. Theſe contained the moſt violent invectives againſt the leading characters of the ſtate of Maſſachuſetts, and ſtrenuouſly adviſed the proſecution of vigorous meaſures, to compel the people to obedience to the meaſures of the miniſtry. Theſe he tranſmitted to the legiſlature, by whom they were publiſhed. Atteſted copies of them were ſent to Great-Britain, with an addreſs, praying the king to diſcharge from office perſons who had rendered themſelves ſo obnoxious to the people, and who had ſhewn themſelves ſo unfriendly to their intereſts. The publication of theſe letters produced a duel between Mr. Whately and Mr. Temple; each of whom was ſuſpected for having been inſtrumental in procuring them. To prevent any further diſputes on this ſubject Dr. Franklin, in one of the 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 Maſſachuſett's aſſembly was taken up for examination, before the privy council. Dr. Franklin attended as agent for the aſſembly; and here a torrent of the moſt violent and unwarranted abuſe was poured upon him by the ſolicitor general Wedderburne, who was engaged as council for Oliver and Hutchinſon. The petition was declared to be ſcandalous and vexatious, and the prayer of it refuſed.
Although the parliament of Great-Britain had repealed the ſtamp-act, it was only upon the principle of expediency. They ſtill inſiſted upon their right to tax the colonies; and, at the ſame time that the ſtamp-act was repealed, an act was paſſed, declaring the right of parliament to bind the colonies in all caſes whatſoever. This language was uſed even by the moſt ſtrenuous oppoſers of the ſtamp-act; and, amongſt others, ​by Mr. Pitt. This right was never recognized by the coloniſts; but, as they flattered themſelves that it would not be exerciſed, they were not very active in remonſtrating againſt it. Had this pretended right been ſuffered to remain dormant, the coloniſts would cheerfully have furniſhed their quota of ſupplies, in the mode to which they had been accuſtomed; that is, by acts of their own aſſemblies, in conſequence of requiſitions from the ſecretary of ſtate. If this practice had been purſued, ſuch was the diſpoſition of the colonies towards the mother country, that, notwithſtanding the diſadvantages under which they laboured, from reſtraints upon their trade, calculated ſolely for the benefit of the commercial and manufacturing intereſts of Great-Britain, a ſeparation of the two countries might have been a far diſtant event. The Americans, from their earlieſt infancy, were taught to venerate a people from whom they were deſcended; whoſe language, laws, and manners, were the ſame as their own. They looked up to them as models of perfectionſ; and, in their prejudiced minds, the moſt enlightened nations of Europe were conſidered as almoſt barbarians, in compariſon with Engliſhmen. The name of an Engliſhman conveyed to an American the idea of every thing good and great. Such ſentiments inſtilled into them in early life, what but a repetition of unjuſt treatment could have induced them to entertain the moſt diſtant thought of ſeparation! The duties on glaſs, paper, leather, painters' colours, tea, &c.; the disfranchiſement of ſome of the colonies; the obſtruction to the meaſures of the legiſlature in others, by the king's governors; the contemptuous treatment of their humble remonſtrances, ſtating their grievances and praying a redreſs of them, and ​other violent and oppreſſive meaſures, at length excited an ardent ſpirit of oppoſition. Inſtead of endeavouring to allay this by a more lenient conduct, the miniſtry ſeemed reſolutely bent upon reducing the colonies to the moſt ſlaviſh obedience to their decrees. But this tended only to aggravate. Vain were all the efforts made uſe of to prevail upon them to lay aſide their deſigns, to convince them of the impoſſibility of carrying them into effect, and of the miſchievous conſequences which muſt enſue from a continuance of the attempt. They perſevered, with a degree of inflexibility ſcarcely paralleled.
The advantages which Great-Britain derived from her colonies were ſo great, that nothing but a degree of infatuation, little ſhort of madneſs, could have produced a continuance of meaſures calculated to keep up a ſpirit of uneaſineſs, which might occaſion the ſlighteſt wiſh for a ſeparation. When we confider the great improvements in the ſcience of government, the general diffuſion of the principles of liberty amongſt the people of Europe, the effects which theſe have already produced in France, and the probable conſequences which will reſult from them elſewhere, all of which are the offspring of the American revolution, it cannot but appear ſtrange, that events of ſo great moment to the happineſs of mankind, ſhould have been ultimately occaſioned by the wickedneſs or ignorance of a Britiſh miniſtry.
Dr. Franklin left nothing untried to prevail upon the miniſtry to conſent to a change of meaſures. In private converſations, and in letters to perſons in government, he continually expatiated upon the impolicy and injuſtice of their conduct towards America; and ſtated, that, notwithſtanding the attachment of the coloniſts to the ​mother country, a repetition of ill treatment muſt ultimately alienate their affections. They liſtened not to his advice. They blindly perſevered in their own ſchemes, and left to the coloniſts no alternative, but oppoſition or unconditional ſubmiſſion. The latter accorded not with the principles of freedom, which they had been taught to revere. To the former they were compelled, though reluctantly, to have recourſe.
Dr. Franklin, finding all efforts to reſtore harmony between Great-Britain and her colonies uſeleſs, returned to America in the year 1775; juſt after the commencement of hoſtilities. The day after his return he was elected by the legiſlature of Pennſylvania a delegate, to congreſs. Not long after his election a committee was appointed, conſiſting of Mr. Lynch, Mr. Harriſon, and himſelf, to viſit the camp at Cambridge, and, in conjunction with the commander in chief, to endeavour to convince the troops, whoſe term of enliſtment was about to expire, of the neceſſity of their continuing in the field, and perſevering in the cauſe of their country.
In the fall of the fame year he viſited Canada, to endeavour to unite them in the common cauſe of liberty; but they could not be prevailed upon to oppoſe the meaſures of the Britiſh government. M. Le Roy, in a letter annexed to Abbé Fauchet's eulogium of Dr. Franklin, ſtates that the ill ſucceſs of this negotiation was occaſioned, in a great degree, by religious animoſities, which ſubſiſted between the Canadians and their neighbours, ſome of whom had at different times burnt their chapels.
When Lord Howe came to America, in 1776, veſted with power to treat with the coloniſts, a correſpondence took place between him and Dr. Franklin, on the ſubject of a reconciliation. ​Dr. Franklin was afterwards appointed, together with John Adams and Edward Rutledge, to wait upon the commiſſioners, in order to learn the extent of their power. Theſe were found to be only to grant pardons upon ſubmiſſion. Theſe were terms which would not be accepted; and the object of the commiſſioners could not be obtained.
The momentous queſtion of independence was ſhortly after brought into view, at a time when the fleets and armies, which were ſent to enforce obedience, were truly formidable. With an army, numerous indeed, but ignorant of diſcipline, and entirely unſkilled in the art of war, without money, without a fleet, without allies, and with nothing but the love of liberty to ſupport them, the coloniſts determined to ſeparate from a country, from which they had experienced a repetition of injury and inſult. In this queſtion, Dr. Franklin was decidedly in favour of the meaſure propoſed, and had great influence in bringing over others to his ſentiments.
The public mind had been pretty fully prepared for this event, by Mr. Paine's celebrated pamphlet, Common Senſe. There is good reaſon to believe that Dr. Franklin had no inconſiderable ſhare, at leaſt, in furniſhing materials for this work.
In the convention which aſſembled at Philadelphia in 1776, for the purpoſe of eſtabliſhing a new form of government for the ſtate of Pennſylvania, Dr. Franklin was choſen preſident. The late conſtitution of this ſtate, which was the reſult of their deliberations, may be conſidered as a digeſt of his principles of government. The ſingle legiſlature, and the plural executive, ſeem to have been his favourite tenets.
​In the latter end of 1776, Dr. Franklin was appointed to aſſiſt in the negociations which had been ſet on foot by Silas Deane at the court of France. A conviction of the advantages of a commercial intercourſe with America, and a deſire of weakening the Britiſh empire by diſmembering it, firſt induced the French court to liſten to proposals of an alliance. But they ſhewed rather a reluctance to the meaſure, which, by Dr. Franklin's addreſs, and particularly by the ſucceſs of the American arms againſt general Burgoyne, was at length overcome; and in February 1778, a treaty of alliance, offenſive and defenſive, was concluded; in conſequence of which France became involved in the war with Great-Britain.
Perhaps no perſon could have been found, more capable of rendering eſſential ſervices to the United States at the court of France, than Dr. Franklin. He was well known as a philoſopher, and his character was held in the higheſt eſtimation. He was received with the greateſt marks of reſpect by all the literary characters; and this reſpect was extended amongſt all claſſes of men. His perſonal influence was hence very conſiderable. To the effects of this were added thoſe of various performances which he publiſhed, tending to eſtabliſh the credit and character of the United States. To his exertions in this way, may, in no ſmall degree, be aſcribed the ſucceſs of the loans negotiated in Holland and France, which greatly contributed to bringing the war to a happy concluſion.
The repeated ill ſucceſs of their arms, and more particularly the capture of Cornwallis and his army, at length convinced the Britiſh nation of the impoſſibility of reducing the Americans to ſubjection. The trading intereſt particularly became ​clamorouſ for peace. The miniſtry were unable longer to oppoſe their wiſhes. Proviſional articles of peace were agreed to, and ſigned at Paris on the 30th of November, 1782, by Dr. Franklin, Mr. Adams, Mr. Jay, and Mr. Laurens, on the part of the United States; and by Mr. Oſwald on the part of Great-Britain. Theſe formed the baſis of the definitive treaty, which was concluded the 3d of September 1783, and ſigned by Dr. Franklin, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Jay, on the one part, and by Mr. David Hartley on the other.
On the 3d of April 1783, a treaty of amity and commerce, between the United States and Sweden, was concluded at Paris, by Dr. Franklin and the Count Von Krutz.
A ſimilar treaty with Pruſſia was concluded in 1785, not long before Dr. Franklin's departure from Europe.
Dr. Franklin did not ſuffer his political purſuits to engroſs his whole attention. Some of his performances made their appearance in Paris. The object of theſe was generally the promotion of induſtry and œconomy.
In the year 1784, when animal magnetiſm made great noiſe in the world, particularly at Paris, it was thought a matter of ſuch importance, that the king appointed commiſſioners to examine into the foundation of this pretended ſcience. Dr. Franklin was one of the number. After a fair and diligent examination, in the courſe of which Meſmer repeated a number of experiments, ſome of which were tried upon themſelves, they determined that it was a mere trick, intended to impoſe upon the ignorant and credulous—Meſmer was thus interrupted in his career to wealth and fame, and a moſt inſolent attempt to impoſe upon the human underſtanding baffled.
​The important ends of Dr. Franklin's miſſion being completed by the eſtabliſhment of American independence, and the infirmities of age and diſeaſe coming upon him, he became deſirous of returning to his native country. Upon application to congreſs to be recalled, Mr. Jefferfon was appointed to ſucceed him, in 1785. Sometime in September of the ſame year, Dr. Franklin arrived in Philadelphia. He was ſhortly after choſen member of the ſupreme executive 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 government of the union, by reviſing and amending the articles of confederation, Dr. Franklin was appointed a delegate from the State of Pennſylvania. He ſigned the conſtitution which they propoſed for the union, and gave it the moſt unequivocal marks of his approbation.
A society for political enquiries, of which Dr. Franklin was preſident, was eſtabliſhed about this period. The meetings were held at his houſe. Two or three eſſays read in this ſociety were publiſhed. It did not long continue.
In the year 1787, two ſocieties were eſtabliſhed in Philadelphia, founded in the principles of the moſt liberal and refined humanity—The Philadelphia Society for alleviating the miſeries of public priſons; and the Pennſylvania Society for promoting the abolition of ſlavery, the relief of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage, and the improvement of the condition of the African race. Of each of theſe Dr. Franklin was preſident. The labours of theſe bodies have been crowned with great ſucceſs; and they continue to proſecute, with unwearied diligence, the laudable deſigns for which they were eſtabliſhed.
​Dr. Franklin's increaſing infirmities prevented his regular attendance at the council-chamber; and, in 1788, he retired wholly from public life.
His conſtitution had been a remarkably good one. He had been little ſubject to diſeaſe, except an attack of the gout occasionally, until about the year 1781, when he was firſt attacked with ſymptoms of the calculous complaint, which continued during his life. During the intervals of pain from this grievous diſeaſe, he ſpent many cheerful hours, converting in the moſt agreeable and inſtructive manner. His faculties were entirely unimpaired, even to the hour of his death.
His name, as preſident of the Abolition Society, was ſigned to the memorial preſented to the Houſe of Repreſentatives of the United States, on the 12th of February 1789, praying them to exert the full extent of power veiled in them by the conſtitution, in diſcouraging the traffic of the human ſpecies. This was his laſt public act. In the debates to Which this memorial gave riſe, ſeveral attempts were made to juſtify the trade. In the Federal Gazette of Match 25th there appeared an eſſay, ſigned Hiſtoricus, written by Dr. Franklin, in which he communicated a ſpeech, ſaid to have been delivered in the Divan of Algiers in 1687, in opposition to the prayer of the petition of a ſect called Erika, or puriſts, for the abolition of piracy and ſlavery. This pretended African ſpeech was an excellent parody of one delivered by Mr. Jackſon of Georgia. All the arguments urged in favour of negro ſlavery, are applied with equal force to juſtify the plundering, and enſlaving of Europeans. It affords, at the ſame time, a demonſtration of the futility of the arguments in defence of the ſlave trade, and of the ſtrength of mind and ingenuity of the author, at his advanced period of life. It furniſhed too ​a no leſs convincing proof of his power of imitating the ſtyle of other times and nations, than his celebrated parable againſt perſecution. And as the latter led many perſons to ſearch the ſcriptures with a view to find it, ſo the former cauſed many perſons to ſearch the book-ſtores and libraries, for the work from which it was ſaid to be extracted.
In the beginning of April following, he was attacked with a fever and complaint of his breaſt, which terminated his exiſtence. The following account of his laſt illneſs was written by his friend and Phyſician, Dr. Jones.
"The ſtone, with which he had been afflicted for ſeveral years, had for the laſt twelve months confined him chiefly to his bed; and during the extreme painful paroxyſms, he was obliged to take large doſes of laudanum to mitigate his tortures—ſtill, in the intervals of pain, he not only amuſed himſelf with reading and converſing cheerfully with his family, and a few friends who viſited him, but was often employed in doing buſineſs of a public as well as private nature, with various perſons who waited on him for that purpoſe; and in every inſtance diſplayed, not only that readineſs and diſpoſition of doing good, which was the diſtinguiſhing characteriſtic of his life, but the fulleſt and cleareſt poſſeſſion of his uncommon mental abilities; and not unfrequently indulged himſelf in thoſe jeux d'eſprit and entertaining anecdotes, which were the delight of all who heard him.
"About ſixteen days before his death, he was ſeized with a feveriſh indiſpoſition, without any particular ſymptoms attending it, till the third or fourth day, when he complained of a pain in the left breaſt, which increaſed till it became ​extremely acute, attended with a cough and laborious breathing. During this ſtate, when the ſeverity of his pains ſometimes drew forth a groan of complaint, he would obſerve—that he was afraid he did not bear them as he ought—acknowledged his grateful ſenſe of the many bleſſings he had received from that Supreme Being, who had raiſed him from ſmall and low beginnings to ſuch high rank and conſideration among men and made no doubt but his preſent afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from a world, in which he was no longer fit to act the part aſſigned him. In this frame of body and mind he continued till five days before his death, when his pain and difficulty of breathing entirely left him, and his family were flattering themſelves with the hopes of his recovery, when an impoſthumation, which had formed itſelf in his lungs, ſuddenly burſt, and diſcharged a great quantity of matter, which he continued to throw up while he had ſufficient ſtrength to do it, but, as that failed, the organs of reſpiration became gradually oppreſſed—a calm lethargic ſtate ſucceeded——and, on the 17th of April 1790, about eleven o'clock at night, he quietly expired, cloſing a long and uſeful life of eighty-four years and three months.
"It may not be amiſs to add to the above account, that Dr, Franklin, in the year 1735, had a ſevere pleurify, which terminated in an abſceſs of the left lobe of his lungs, and he was then almoſt ſuffocated with the quantity and ſuddenneſs of the diſcharge. A ſecond attack of a ſimilar nature happened ſome years after this, from which he ſoon recovered, and did not appear to ſuffer any inconvenience in his reſpiration from theſe diſeaſes."
​The following epitaph on himſelf, was written by him many years previous to his death:
THE BODY
of
Benjamin Franklin, Printer,
(Like the cover of an old book,
Its contents torn out,
And ſtript of its lettering and gilding)
Lies here, food for worms;
Yet the work itſelf ſhall not be loſt,
For it will (as he believed) appear once more,
In a new
And more beautiful edition,
Corrected and amended
by
The Author.
Extracts from the laſt Will and Teſtament of Dr. Franklin.
WITH regard to my books, thoſe I had in France, and thoſe I left in Philadelphia, being now aſſembled together here, and a catalogue made of them, it is my intention to diſpoſe of the ſame as follows:
My hiſtory of the Academy of Sciences, in ſixty or ſeventy volumes quarto, I give to the philoſophical ſociety of Philadelphia, of which I have the honour to be preſident. My collection in folio of Les Arts & les Metiers, I give to the American philoſophical ſociety, eſtabliſhed in New England, of which I am a member. My quarto edition of the ſame Arts & Metiers, I give to the library company of Philadelphia. Such and ſo many of my books as I ſhall mark, in the ſaid catalogue, with the name of my grandſon Benjamin Franklin Bache, I do hereby give to him: and ſuch and ſo many of my books, as I ſhall ​mark in the ſaid catalogue with the name of my grandſon William Bache, I do hereby give to him: and ſuch as ſhall be marked with the name of Jonathan Williams, I hereby give to my couſin of that name. The reſidue and remainder of all my books, manuſcripts and papers, I do give to my grandſon William Temple Franklin. My ſhare in the library company of Philadelphia I give to my grandſon Benjamin Franklin Bache, confiding that he will permit his brothers and ſiſters to ſhare in the uſe of it.
I was born in Boſton, New England, and owe my firſt inſtructions in literature to the free grammar-ſchools eſtabliſhed there. I therefore give one hundred pounds ſterling to my executors, to be by them, the ſurvivors or ſurvivor of them, paid over to the managers of the free ſchools in my native town of Boſton, to be by them, or the perſon or perſons who ſhall have the ſuperintendence and management of the ſaid ſchools, put out to intereſt, and ſo continued at intereſt for ever; which intereſt annually ſhall be laid out in ſilver medals, and given as honorary rewards annually by the directors of the ſaid free ſchools, for the encouragement of ſcholarſhip in the ſaid ſchools, belonging to the ſaid town, in ſuch manner as to the diſcretion of the ſelect men of the ſaid town ſhall ſeem meet.
Out of the ſalary that may remain due to me, as preſident of the ſtate, I give the ſum of two thouſand pounds to my executors, to be by them, the ſurvivors or ſurvivor of them, paid over to ſuch perſon or perſons as the legiſlature of this ſtate, by an act of aſſembly, ſhall appoint to receive the ſame, in truſt, to be employed for making the Schuylkil navigable.
During the number of years I was in buſineſs as a ſtationer, printer, and poſt-maſter, a great ​many ſmall fums became due to me, for books, advertiſements, poſtage of letters, and other matters, which were not collected, when, in 1757, I was ſent by the aſſembly to England as their agent—and, by ſubſequent appointments, continued there till 1775—when, on my return, I was immediately engaged in the affairs of congreſs, and ſent to France in 1776, where I remained nine years, not returning till 1785; and the ſaid debts not being demanded in ſuch a length of time, are become in a manner obſolete, yet are nevertheleſs juſtly due.—Theſe, as they are ſtated in my great folio leger, E, I bequeath to the contributors of the Pennſylvania hoſpital; hoping that thoſe debtors, and the deſcendants of ſuch as are deceaſed, who now, as I find, make ſome difficulty of ſatisfying ſuch antiquated demands as juſt debts, may however be induced to pay or give them as charity to that excellent inſtitution. I am ſenſible that much muſt inevitably be loſt; but I hope ſomething conſiderable may be recovered. It is poſſible too that ſome of the parties charged may have exiſting old unſettled accounts againſt me: in which caſe the managers of the ſaid hoſpital will allow and deduct the amount, or pay the balance, if they find it againſt me.
I requeſt my friends Henry Hill, Eſq. John Jay, Eſq. Francis Hopkinſon, Eſq. and Mr. Edward Duffield, of Bonfield, in Philadelphia county, to be the executors of this my laſt will and teſtament, and I hereby nominate and appoint them for that purpoſe.
I would have my body buried with as little expence or ceremony as may be.
Philadelphia, July 17, 1788.
Codicil.
I Benjamin Franklin, in the foregoing or annexed laſt will and teſtament, having further conſidered the ſame, do think proper to make and publiſh the following codicil, or addition thereto:
It having long been a fixed political opinion of mine, that in a democratical ſtate there ought to be no offices of profit, for the reaſons I had given in an article of my drawing in our conſtitution, it was my intention, when I accepted the office of preſident, to devote the appointed ſalary to ſome public uſe: Accordingly I had already, before I made my laſt will, in July laſt, given large ſums of it to colleges, ſchools, building of churches, &c.; and in that will I bequeathed two thouſand pounds more to the ſtate, for the purpoſe of making the Skuylkil navigable; but underſtanding ſince, that ſuch a ſum will do but little towards accompliſhing ſuch a work, and that the project is not likely to be undertaken for many years to come and having entertained another idea, which I hope may be more extenſively uſeful, I do hereby revoke and annul the bequeſt, and direct that the certificates I have for what remains due to me of that ſalary, be ſold towards railing the ſum of two thouſand pounds ſterling, to be diſpoſed of as I am now about to order.
It has been an opinion, that he who receives an eſtate from his anceſtors, is under ſome obligation to tranſmit the ſame to poſterity. This obligation lies not on me, who never inherited a ſhilling from any anceſtor or relation. I ſhall, however, if it is not diminiſhed by ſome accident before my death, leave a conſiderable eſtate among my deſcendants and relations. The above obſervation is made merely as ſome apology to my family, for my making bequeſts that do not ​appear to have any immediate relation to their advantage.
I was born in Boſton, New-England, and owe my firſt inſtructions in literature to the free grammar-ſchools eſtabliſhed there. I have therefore conſidered thoſe ſchools in my will.
But I am alſo under obligations to the ſtate of Maſſachuſetts, for having, unaſked, appointed me formerly their agent, with a handſome ſalary, which continued ſome years: and although I accidentally loſt in their ſervice, by tranſmitting governor Hutchinſon's letters, much more than the amount of what they gave me, I do not think that ought in the leaſt to diminiſh my gratitude. I have conſidered that, among artiſans, good apprentices are moſt likely to make good citizens; and having myſelf been bred to a manual art, printing, in my native town, and afterwards aſſiſted to ſet up my buſineſs in Philadelphia by kind loans of money from two friends there, which was the foundation of my fortune, and of all the utility in life that may be aſcribed to me—I wiſh to be uſeful even after my death, if poſſible, in forming and advancing other young men, that maybe ſerviceable to their country in both theſe towns.
To this end I devote two thouſand pounds ſterling, which I give, one thouſand thereof to the inhabitants of the town of Boſton, in Maſſachuſetts, and the other thouſand to the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia, in truſt, to and for the uſes, intents, and purpoſes, herein after mentioned and declared.
The ſaid ſum of one thouſand pounds ſterling, if accepted by the inhabitants of the town of Boſton, ſhall be managed under the direction of the ſelect men, united with the miniſters of the oldeſt epiſcopalian, congregational, and ​preſbyterian churches in that town, who are to let out the ſame upon intereſt at five per cent, per annum, to ſuch young married artificers, under the age of twenty-five years, as have ſerved an apprenticeſhip in the ſaid town, and faithfully fulfilled the duties required in their indentures, ſo as to obtain a good moral character from at leaſt two reſpectable citizens, who are willing to become ſureties in a bond, with the applicants, for the repayment of the money ſo lent, with intereſt, according to the terms herein after preſcribed; all which bonds are to be taken for Spaniſh milled dollars, or the value thereof in current gold coin: and the manager ſhall keep a bound book, or books, wherein ſhall be entered the names of thoſe who ſhall apply for, and receive the benefit of this inſtitution, and of their ſureties, together with the ſums lent, the dates, and other neceſſary and proper records, reſpecting the buſineſs and concerns of this inſtitution: and as theſe loans are intended to aſſiſt young married artificers in ſetting up their buſineſs, they are to be proportioned by the discretion of the managers, ſo as not to exceed ſixty pounds ſterling to one perſon, nor to be leſs than fifteen pounds.
And if the number of appliers ſo entitled ſhould be ſo large as that the ſum will not ſuffice to afford to each as much as might other wiſe not be improper, the proportion to each ſhall be diminiſhed, ſo as to afford to every one ſome aſſiſtance. Theſe aids may therefore be ſmall at firſt, but as the capital increaſes by the accumulated intereſt, they will be more ample. And in order to ſerve as many as poſſible in their turn, as well as to make the repayment of the principal borrowed more eaſy, each borrower ſhall be obliged to pay with the yearly intereſt one tenth part of the principal: which ſums of principal and ​intereſt ſo paid in, ſhall be again let out to freſh borrowers. And it is preſumed, that there will be always found in Boſton virtuous and benevolent citizens, willing to beſtow a part of their time in doing good to the riſing generation, by ſuperintending and managing this inſtitution gratis; it is hoped that no part of the money will at any time lie dead, or be diverted to other purpoſes, but be continually augmenting by the intereſt, in which there may in time be more than the occaſion in Boſton ſhall require: and then ſome may be ſpared to the neighbouring or other towns in the ſaid ſtate of Maſſachuſetts, which may deſire to have it, ſuch towns engaging to pay punctually the intereſt, and the proportions of the principal annually to the inhabitants of the town of Boſton. If this plan is executed, and ſucceeds, as projected, without interruption for one hundred years, the ſum will be then one hundred and thirty-one thouſand pounds; of which I would have the managers of the donation to the town of Boſton then lay out, at their diſcretion, one hundred thouſand pounds in public works, which may be judged of moſt general utility to the inhabitants; ſuch as fortifications, bridges, aqueducts, public buildings, baths, pavements, or whatever may make living in the town more convenient to its people, and render it more agreeable to ſtrangers reporting thither for health, or a temporary residence. The remaining thirty-one thouſand pounds I would have continued to be let out to intereſt, in the manner above directed, for one hundred years; as I hope it will have been found that the inſtitution has had a good effect on the conduct of youth, and been of ſeryice to many worthy characters and uſeful citizens. At the end of this ſecond term, if no unfortunate accident has prevented the operation, ​the ſum will be four millions and ſixty-one thouſand pounds ſterling; of which I leave one million and ſixty-one thouſand pounds to the diſpoſition and management of the inhabitants of the town of Boſton, and the three millions to the diſpoſition of the government of the ſtate;
not preſuming to carry my views farther.
All the directions herein given reſpecting the diſpoſition and management of the donation to the inhabitants of Boſton, I would have obſerved reſpecting that to the inhabitants of Philadelphia; only, as Philadelphia is incorporated, I requeſt the corporation of that city to undertake the management, agreeable to the ſaid directions: and I do hereby veſt them with full and ample powers for that purpoſe. And having conſidered that the covering its ground-plat with buildings and pavements, which carry off moſt rain, and prevent its ſoaking into the earth and renewing and purifying the ſprings whence the water of the wells muſt gradually grow worſe, and in time be unfit for uſe, as I find has happened in all old cities; I recommend, that, at the end of the firſt hundred years, if not done before, the corporation of the city employ a part of the hundred thouſand pounds in bringing by pipes the water of Whiſſahickoncreek into the town, ſo as to ſupply the inhabitants, which I apprehend may be done without great difficulty, the level of that creek being much above that of the city, and may be made higher by a dam. I alſo recommend making the Skuylkil completely navigable. At the end of the ſecond hundred years, I would have the diſpoſition of the four millions and ſixty-one thouſand pounds divided between the inhabitants of the city of Philadelphia and the government of Pennſylvania, in the ſame manner as herein directed with reſpect to that of the ​inhabitants of Boſton and the government of Maſſachuſetts. It is my deſire that this inſtitution ſhould take place, and begin to operate within one year after my deceaſe; for which purpoſe due notice ſhould be publicly given previous to the expiration of that year, that thoſe for whoſe benefit this eſtabliſhment is intended may make their reſpective applications: and I hereby direct my executors, the ſurvivors and ſurvivor of them, within ſix months after my deceaſe to pay over the ſaid ſum of two thouſand pounds ſterling to ſuch perſons as ſhall be duly appointed by the ſelect men of Boſton and the corporation of Philadelphia, to receive and take charge o their reſpective ſums of one thouſand pounds each for the purpoſes aforeſaid. Conſidering the accidents to which all human affairs and projects are ſubject in ſuch a length of time, I have perhaps too much flattered myſelf with a vain fancy, that theſe diſpoſitions, if carried into execution, will be continued without interruption, and have the effects propoſed: I hope however, that, if the inhabitants of the two cities ſhould not think fit to undertake the execution, they will at leaſt accept the offer of theſe donations, as a mark of my good will, token of my gratitude, and teſtimony of my deſire to be uſeful to them even after my departure. I wiſh, indeed, that they may both undertake to endeavour the execution of my project, becauſe I think, that, though unforeseen difficulties may ariſe, expedients will be found to remove them, and the ſcheme be found practicable. If one of them accepts the money with the conditions, and the other refuſes, my will then is, that both ſums be given to the inhabitants of the city accepting; the whole to be applied to the ſame purpoſes, and under the ſame regulations directed for the ​ſeparate parts; and if both refuſe, the money remain 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-ſlick, with a gold head curiouſly wrought in the form of the cap of Liberty, I gave to my friend and the friend of mankind, General Waſhington. If it were a ſceptre, he has merited it, and would become it.
ESSAYS
HUMOROUS, MORAL, and LITERARY, &c.
ON EARLY MARRIAGES.
TO JOHN ALLEYNE, ESQ.
DEAR JACK,
YOU deſire, you ſay, my impartial thoughts on the ſubject of an early marriage, by way of anſwer to the numberleſs objections that have been made by numerous perſons to your own. You may remember, when you conſulted me on the occaſion, that I thought youth on both ſides to be no objection. Indeed, from the marriages that have fallen under my obſervation, I am rather inclined to think, that early ones ſtand the beſt chance of happineſs. The temper and habits of the young are not yet become ſo ſtiff and uncomplying, as when more advanced in life; they form more eaſily to each other, and hence many occaſions of diſguſt are removed. And if youth has leſs of that prudence which is neceſſary to manage a family, yet the parents and elder friends of young married perſons are generally at hand to afford their advice, which amply ſupplies that defect; and by early marriage, youth is ſooner formed to ​regular and uſeful life; and poſſibly ſome of thoſe accidents or connections, that might have injured the conſtitution, or reputation, or both, are thereby happily prevented. Particular circumſtances of particular perſons, may poſſibly ſometimes make it prudent to delay entering into that ſtate; but in general, when nature has rendered our bodies fit for it, the preſumption is in nature's favour, that ſhe has not judged amiſs in making us deſire it. Late marriages are often attended, too, with this further inconvenience, that there is not the ſame chance that the parents ſhall live to fee their offspring educated. "Late children," ſays the Spaniſh proverb, "are early "orphans." A melancholy reflection to thoſe whoſe caſe it may be! With us in America, marriages are generally in the morning of life; our children are therefore educated and ſettled in the world by noon; and thus, our buſineſs being done, we have an afternoon and evening of cheerful leiſure to ourſelves, ſuch as our friend at preſent enjoys. By theſe early marriages we are bleſſed with more children; and from the mode among us, founded by nature, of every mother ſuckling and nurſing her own child, more of them are raiſed. Thence the ſwift progreſs of population among us, unparalleled in Europe. In fine, I am glad you are married, and congratulate you moſt cordially upon it. You are now in the way of becoming a uſeful citizen; and you have eſcaped the unnatural ſtate of celibacy for life—the fate of many here, who never intended it, but who having too long poſtponed the change of their condition, find, at length, that it is too late to think of it, and ſo live all their lives in a ſituation that greatly leſſens a man's value. An odd volume of a ſet of books, bears not the value of its proportion to the ſet: ​what think you of the odd half of a pair of ſciſſars? it can't well cut any thing; it may poſſibly ſerve to ſcrape a trencher.
Pray make my compliments and beſt wiſhes acceptable to your bride. I am old and heavy, or I ſhould ere this have preſented them in perſon. I ſhall make but ſmall uſe of the old man's privilege, that of giving advice to younger friends. Treat your wife always with reſpect; it will procure reſpect to you, not only from her, but from all that obſerve it. Never uſe a ſlighting expreſſion to her, even in jeſt; for ſlights in jeſt, after frequent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earneſt. Be ſtudious in your profeſſion, and you will be learned. Be induſtrious and frugal, and you will be rich. Be ſober and temperate, and you will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. At leaſt, you will, by ſuch conduct, ſtand the beſt chance for ſuch conſequences. I pray God to bleſs you both! being ever your affectionate friend,
B. FRANKLIN
ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER.
Mr. JOHN FRANKLIN.
TO MISS HUBBARD.
I CONDOLE with you. We have loſt a moſt dear and valuable relation. But it is the will of God and nature, that theſe mortal bodies be laid aſide, when the ſoul is to enter into real life. This is rather an embryo ſtate, a preparation for living. A man is not completely born until he be dead. Why then ſhould we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals, a new member added to their happy ſociety? We are ſpirits. That bodies ſhould be lent us, while they can afford us pleaſure, aſſiſt us in acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow-creatures, is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for theſe purpoſes, and afford us pain inſtead of pleaſure, inſtead of an aid become an incumbrance, and anſwer none of the intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourſelves, in ſome caſes, prudently chooſe a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be reſtored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a, tooth, parts with it freely, ſince the pain goes with it: and he who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and poſſibilities of pains and diſeaſes, it was liable to, or capable of making him ſuffer.
​Our friend and we were invited abroad on a party of pleaſure, which is to laſt for ever. His chair was ready firſt; and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently ſtart together: and why ſhould you and I be grieved at this, ſince we are ſoon to follow, and know where to find him?
Adieu,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO THE LATE
DOCTOR MATHER OF BOSTON.
REV. SIR,
I RECEIVED your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the people of the United States, which I read with great pleaſure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lightly paſſed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impreſſion on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be conſiderable.
Permit me to mention one little inſtance, which, though it relates to myſelf, will not be quite unintereſting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book entitled "Eſſays to do good," which I think was written by your father. It had been ſo little regarded by a former poſſeſſor, that ſeveral leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave me ſuch a turn of thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct through life: for I have always ſet a greater value on the character of a doer of good, than any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you ſeem to think, a uſeful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book.
You mention your being in your ſeventy-eighth year. I am in my ſeventy-ninth. We are grown old together. It is now more than ſixty years ſince I left Boſton; but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and ſeen them in their houſes. The laſt time I ſaw your father ​in the beginning of 1724, when I viſited him after my firſt trip to Pennsylvania. He received me in his library; and on my taking leave, 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 accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he ſaid haſtily, "Stoop, Stoop!" I did not underſtand him till I felt my head hit againſt the beam. He was a man who never miſſed any occaſion of giving inſtruction; and upon this he ſaid to me: "You are young, and have the world before you: ſtoop as you go through it, and you will miſs many hard thumps." This advice, thus beat into my heart, has frequently been of uſe to me; and I often think of it, when I ſee pride mortified, and misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their heads too high.
I long much to ſee again my native place; and once hoped to lay my bones there, I left it in 1723. I viſited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763; and in 1773 was in England. In 1775 I had a ſight of it, but could not enter, it being in poſſeſſion of the enemy, I did hope to have been there in 1783, but could not obtain my diſmiſſion from this employment here; and now I fear I ſhall never have that happineſs. My beſt wiſhes however attend my dear country, "eſto perpetua." It is now bleſſed with an excellent conſtitution: may it laſt for ever!
This powerful monarchy continues its friendſhip for the United States. It is a friendſhip of the utmoſt importance to our ſecurity, and ſhould be carefully cultivated. Britain has not yet, well digeſted the loſs of its dominion over us; and has ſtill at times ſome flattering hopes ​of recovering it. Accidents may increaſe thoſe, hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. A breach between us and France would infallibly bring the Engliſh again upon our backs: and yet we have ſome wild beaſts among our countrymen, who are endeavouring to weaken that connexion.
Let us preſerve our reputation, by performing our engagements; our credit, by fulfilling our contracts; and our friends, by gratitude and kindneſs: for we know not how ſoon we may 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,
| Passy, May 12, 1784. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | B. FRANKLIN. |
THE WHISTLE:
A TRUE STORY.
WRITTEN TO HIS NEPHEW.
WHEN I was a child, at ſeven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a ſhop where they ſold toys for children; and being charmed with the ſound of a whiſtle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whiſtling all over the houſe, much pleaſed with my whiſtle 9 but diſturbing all the family. My brothers, and ſiſters, and couſins, underſtanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the reſt of the money; and they laughed at me ſo much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whiſtle gave me pleaſure.
This however was afterwards of uſe to me, the impreſſion continuing on my mind; ſo that often, when I was tempted to buy ſome unneceſſary thing, I ſaid to myſelf Don't give too much for the whiſtle; and ſo I ſaved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and obſerved the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whiſtle.
When I ſaw any one too ambitious of court favours, ſacrificing his time in attendance on ​levees, his repoſe, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have ſaid to myſelf, This man gives too much for his whiſtle.
When I ſaw another fond of popularity, conſtantly employing himſelf in political buſtles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect: He pays, indeed ſays I, too much for his whiſtle.
If I knew a miſer, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleaſure of doing good to others, all the eſteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendſhip, for the ſake of accumulating wealth; Poor man, ſays I, you do indeed pay too much for your whiſtle.
When I meet a man of pleaſure, ſacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal ſenſations; Miſtaken man, ſays I, you are providing pain for yourſelf, inſtead of pleaſure: you give too much for your whiſtle.
If I ſee one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in priſon; Alas, ſays I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whiſtle.
When I ſee a beautiful, ſweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured brute of a huſband: What a pity it is, ſays I, that ſhe has paid ſo much for a whistle!
In ſhort, I conceived that great part of the miſeries of mankind were brought upon them by the falſe eſtimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whiſtles.
A PETITION
THOSE WHO HAVE THE SUPERINTENDENT OF EDUCATION.
I ADDRESS myſelf to all the friends of youth, and conjure them to direct their compaſſionate regard to my unhappy fate, in order to remove the prejudices of which I am the victim. There are twin ſiſters of us: and the two eyes of man do not more reſemble, nor are capable of being upon better terms with each other, than my ſiſter and myſelf, were it not for the partiality of our parents, who make the moſt injurious diſtinctions between us. From my infancy, I have been led to conſider my ſiſter as a being of a more elevated rank. I was ſuffered to grow up without the leaſt inſtruction, while nothing was ſpared in her education. She had maſters to teach her writing, drawing, muſic, and other accompliſhments; but if by chance I touched a pencil, a pen, or a needle, I was bitterly rebuked
and more than once I have been beaten for being aukward, and wanting a graceful manner. It is true, my ſiſter aſſociated me with her upon ſome occasions; but ſhe always made a point of taking the lead, calling upon me only from neceſſity, or to figure by her ſide.
But conceive not, Sirs, that my complaints are inſtigated merely by vanity—No; my uneaſineſs is occaſioned by an object much more ſerious. It is the practice in our family, that the whole buſineſs of providing for its ſubſiſtence falls upon my ſiſter and myſelf. It ​any indiſpoſition ſhould attack my ſiſter—and I mention it in confidence, upon this occaſion, that ſhe is ſubject to the gout, the rheumatiſm, and cramp, without making mention of other accidents—what would be the fate of our poor family? Muſt not the regret of our parents be exceſſive, at having placed ſo great a difference between ſiſters who are ſo perfectly equal? Alas! we muſt periſh from diſtreſs: for it would not be in my power to ſcrawl a ſuppliant petition for relief, having been obliged to employ the hand of another in tranſcribing the requeſt which I have now the honour to prefer to you.
Condeſcend, Sirs, to make my parents ſenſible of the injuſtice of an excluſive tenderneſs, and of the neceſſity of diſtributing their care and affection among all their children equally.
I am, with a profound reſpect,
Sirs,
Your obedient ſervant,
THE LEFT HAND
THE
HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG.
THERE are two ſorts of people in the world, with equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other comforts of life, become, the one happy, and the other miſerable. This ariſes very much from the different views in which they conſider things, perſons, and events; and the effect of thoſe different views upon their own minds.
In whatever ſituation men can be placed, they may find conveniencies and inconveniencies: in whatever company, they may find perſons and converſation more or leſs pleaſing: at whatever table, they may meet with meats and drinks of better and worſe taſte, diſhes better and worſe dreſſed: in whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather: under whatever government, they may find good and bad laws, and good and bad adminiſtration of thoſe laws: in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may ſee faults and beauties: in almoſt every face, and every perſon they may diſcover fine features and defects, good and bad qualities.
Under theſe circumſtances, the two ſorts of people above mentioned fix their attention, thoſe who are diſpoſed to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleaſant parts of converſation, the well dreſſed diſhes, the goodneſs of the wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with chearfullneſs. Thoſe who are to be unhappy, think and ſpeak only of the contraries. Hence they are continually diſcontented themſelves, and, by their remarks, ſour the pleaſures of ſociety; offend ​perſonally many people, and make themſelves every where diſagreeable. If this turn of mind was founded in nature, ſuch unhappy perſons would be the more to be pitied. But as the diſpoſition to criticiſe, and to be diſguſted, is, perhaps, taken up originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, which, though at preſent ſtrong, may nevertheleſs be cured, when thoſe who have it are convinced of its bad effects on their felicity; I hope this little admonition may be of ſervice to them, and put them on changing a habit, which, though in the exerciſe it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet has ſerious conſequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and misfortunes. For as many are offended by, and nobody loves, this ſort of people; no one ſhews them more than the moſt common civility and reſpect, and ſcarcely that; and this frequently puts them out of humour, and draws them into diſputes and contentions. If they aim at obtaining ſome advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wiſhes them ſucceſs, or will ſtir a ſtep, or ſpeak a word to favour their pretenſions. If they incur public cenſure or diſgrace, no one will defend or excuſe, and many join to aggravate their miſconduct, and render them completely odious. If theſe people will not change this bad habit, and condeſcend to be pleaſed with what is pleaſing, without fretting themſelves and others about the contraries, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with them; which is always diſagreeable, and ſometimes very inconvenient, eſpecially when one finds oneſelf entangled in their quarrels.
An old philoſophical friend of mine was grown, from experience, very cautious in this particular,
and carefully avoided any intimacy wjth ſuch people. He had, like other philoſophers, a ​thermometer to ſhew him the heat of the weather; and a barometer, to mark when it was likely to prove good or bad; but there being no inſtrument invented to diſcover, at firſt ſight, this unpleaſing diſpoſition in a perſon, he, for that purpoſe, made uſe of his legs; one of which was remarkably handſome, the other, by ſome accident, crooked and deformed. If a ſtranger, at the firſt interview, regarded his ugly leg more than his handſome one, he doubted him. If he ſpoke of it, and took no^ notice of the handſome leg, that was ſufficient to determine my philoſopher to have no further acquaintance with him. Every body has not this two legged inſtrument; but every one, with a little attention, may obſerve vigns of that carping, fault-finding diſpoſition, and take the ſame reſolution of avoiding the acquaintance of thoſe infected with it. I therefore adviſe thoſe critical, querulous, diſcontented, unhappy people, that if they wiſh to be reſpected and beloved by others, and happy in themſelves, they ſhould leave off looking at the ugly leg.
CONVERSATION
of a
COMPANY of EPHEMERÆ;
WITH THE SOLILOQUY OF ONE ADVANCED IN AGE.
TO MADAME BRILLIANT.
YOU may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately ſpent that happy day, in the delightful garden and ſweet ſociety of the Moulin Joly, I ſtopt a little in one of our walks, and ſtaid ſome time behind the company. We had been ſhewn numberleſs ſkeletons of a kind of little fly, called an Ephemera, whoſe ſucceſſive generations, we were told, were bred and expired within the day. I happened to ſee a living company of them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in converſation. You know I underſtand all the inferior animal tongues: my too great application to the ſtudy of them, is the beſt excuſe I can give for the little progreſs I have made in your charming language. I liſtened through curioſity to the diſcourſe of theſe little creatures; but as they, in their national vivacity, ſpoke three or four together, I could make but little of their converſation. I found, however, by ſome expreſſions that I heard now and then, they were diſputing warmly on the merit of two foreign muſicians, one a couſin, ​the other a muſcheto; in which diſpute they ſpent their time, ſeemingly as regardleſs of the ſhortneſs of life as if they had been ſure of living a month. Happy people! thought I, you live certainly under a wiſe, juſt, and mild government, ſince you have no public grievances to complain of, nor any ſubject of contention, but the perfections or imperfections of foreign muſic. I turned my head from them to an old grey-headed one, who was ſingle on another leaf, and talking to himſelf. Being amuſed with his ſoliloquy, I put it down in writing, in hopes it will like wiſe amuſe her to whom I am ſo much indebted for the moſt pleaſing of all amuſements, her delicious company, and heavenly harmony.
"It was," ſays he, "the opinion of learned philoſophers of our race, who lived and flouriſhed long before my time, that this vaſt world the Moulin Joly could not itſelf ſubſiſt more than eighteen hours: and I think there was ſome foundation for that opinion; ſince, by the apparent motion of the great luminary, that gives life to all nature, and which in my time has evidently declined towards the ocean at the end of our earth, it muſt then finiſh its courſe, be extinguished in the waters that ſurround us, and leave the world in cold and darkneſs, neceſſarily producing univerſal death and deduction. I have lived ſeven of thoſe hours; a great age, being no leſs than 420 minutes of time. How very few of us continue ſo long? I have ſeen generations born, flouriſh, and expire. My preſent friends are the children and grand-children of the friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more! And I muſt ſoon follow them; for, by the courſe of nature, though ſtill in health, I cannot expect to live above ſeven or eight minutes longer. ​What now avails all my toil and labour, in amaſſing honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy! What the political ſtruggles I have been engaged in, for the good of my compatriot inhabitants of this buſh, or my philoſophical ſtudies, for the benefit of our race in general! for in politics (what can laws do without morals?) our preſent race of ephemeræ will in a courſe of minutes become corrupt, like thoſe of other and older buſhes, and conſequently as wretched: And in philoſophy how ſmall our progreſs! Alas! art is long, and life is ſhort! My friend would comfort me with the idea of a name, they ſay, I ſhall leave behind me; and they tell me I have lived long enough to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera who no longer exiſts? and what will become of all hiſtory in the eighteenth hour, when the world itſelf, even the whole Moulin Joly, ſhall come to its end, and be buried in univerſal ruin?"———
To me, after all my eager purſuits, no ſolid pleaſures now remain, but the reflection of a long life ſpent in meaning well, the ſenſible converſation of a few good lady ephemeræ, and now and then a kind ſmile and a tune from the ever amiable Brilliant.
B. FRANKLIN.
MORALS of CHESS.
PLAYING at cheſs is the moſt ancient and moſt univerſal game known among men; for its original is beyond the memory of hiſtory, and it has, for numberleſs ages, been the amuſement of all the civilized nations of Aſia, the Perſians, the Indians, and the Chineſe. Europe has had it above a thouſand years; the Spaniards have ſpread it over their part of America, and it begins lately to make its appearance in theſe States. It is ſo intereſting in itſelf, as not to need the view of gain to induce engaging in it; and thence it is never played for money. Thoſe therefore, who have leiſure for ſuch diverſions, cannot find one that is more innocent; and the following piece, written with a view to correct (among a few young friends) ſome little improprieties in the practice of it, ſhews, at the ſame time, that it may, in its effects on the mind, be not merely innocent, but advantageous, to the vanquiſhed as well as the victor.
THE game of cheſs is not merely an idle amuſement. Several very valuable qualities of the mind, uſeful in the courſe of human life, are to be acquired or ſtrengthened by it, ſo as to become habits, ready on all occaſions. For life is a kind of cheſs, in which we have often points to gain, and competitors or adverſaries to contend with, and in which there is a vaſt variety of good and ill events, that are, in ſome degree, the effects of prudence or the want of it. By playing at cheſs, then, we may learn,
I. Foreſigbt, which looks a little into futurity, and conſiders the conſequences that may attend ​an action: for it is continually occurring to the player, "If I move this piece, what will be the advantage of my new ſituation? what uſe can my adverſary make of it to annoy me? What other moves can I make to ſupport it, and defend myſelf from his attacks?"
II. Circumſpection, which ſurveys the whole cheſs-board, or ſcene of action, the relations of the ſeveral pieces and ſituations, the dangers they are reſpectively expoſed to, the ſeveral poſſibilities of their aiding each other, the probabilities that the adverſary may take this or that move, and attack this or the other piece, and what different means can be uſed to avoid his ſtroke, or turn its conſequences again it him.
III. Caution, not to make our moves too haſtily. This habit is beſt acquired by obſerving ſtrictly the laws of the game, ſuch as, "If you touch a piece, you muſt move it ſomewhere, if you ſet it down, you muſt let it ſtand:" and it is therefore beſt that theſe rules ſhould be obſerved, as the game thereby becomes more the image of human life, and particularly of war; in which, if you have incautiouſly put yourſelf into a bad and dangerous poſition, you cannot obtain your enemy's leave to withdraw your troops, and place them more ſecurely, but you muſt abide all the conſequences of your raſhneſs.
And, laſtly, we learn by cheſs the habit of not being diſcouraged by preſent bad appearances in the ſtate of our affairs, the habit of hoping for a favourable change and that of perſevering in the ſearch of reſources. The game is ſo full of events there is ſuch a variety of turns in it, the fortune of it is ſo ſubject to ſudden viciſſitudes, and one ſo frequently, after long contemplation, diſcovers the means of extricating oneſelf from a ſuppoſed inſurmountable difficulty, that one is encouraged ​to continue the conteſt to the laſt, in hopes of victory by our own ſkill, or at leaſt of giving a ſtale mate, by the negligence of our adverſary. And whoever confiders, what in cheſs he often ſees inſtances of, that particular pieces of ſucceſs are apt to produce preſumption, and its conſequent inattention, by which the loſs may be recovered, will learn not to be too much diſcouraged by the preſent ſucceſs of his adverſary, nor to deſpair of final good fortune, upon every check he receives in the purſuit of it.
That we may, therefore, be induced more frequently to chooſe this beneficial amuſement, in preference to others, which are not attended with the ſame advantages, every circumſtance which may increaſe the pleaſure of it ſhould be regarded; and every action or word that is unfair, diſreſpectful, or that in any way may give uneaſineſs, ſhould be avoided, as contrary to the immediate intention of both the players, which is to paſs the time agreeably.
Therefore, firſt, if it is agreed to play according to the ſtrict rules; then thoſe rules are to be exactly obſerved by both parties, and ſhould not be inſiſted on for one ſide, while deviated from by the other—for this is not equitable.
Secondly, If it is agreed not to obſerve the rules exactly, but one party demands indulgencies, he ſhould then be as willing to allow them to the other.
Thirdly, No falſe move ſhould ever be made to extricate yourſelf out of a difficulty, or to gain an advantage. There can be no pleaſure in playing with a perſon once detected in ſuch unfair practice.
Fourthly, If your adverſary is long in playing, you ought not to hurry him, or expreſs any uneaſineſs at his delay. You ſhould not ſing, nor ​whiſtle, nor look at your watch, nor take up a book to read, nor make a tapping with your feet on the floor, or with your fingers on the table, nor do any thing that may diſturb his attention. For all theſe things diſpleaſe; and they do not mew your ſkill in playing, but your craftineſs or your rudeneſs.
Fifthly, You ought not to endeavour to amuſe and deceive your adverſary, by pretending to have made bad moves, and ſaying that you have now loſt the game, in order to make him ſecure and careleſs, and inattentive to your ſchemes: for this is fraud and deceit, not ſkill in the game.
Sixthly, You muſt not, when you have gained a victory, uſe any triumphing or inſulting expreſſion, nor ſhow too much pleaſure; but endeavour to conſole your adverſary, and make him leſs diſſatisfied with himſelf, by every kind of civil expreſſion that may be uſed with truth, ſuch as, "You underſtand the game better than I, but you are a little inattentive;" or, "you play too faſt;" or, "you had the beſt of the game, but ſomething happened to divert your thoughts, and that turned it in my favour."
Seventhly, If you are a ſpectator while others play, obſerve the moſt perfect ſilence. For if you give advice, you offend both parties; him againſt whom you give it, becauſe it may cauſe the loſs of his game; him in whoſe favour you give it, becauſe, though it be good, and he follows it, he loſes the pleaſure he might have had, if you had permitted him to think until it had occurred to himſelf. Even after a move, or moves, you muſt not, by replacing the pieces, ſhow how it might have been placed better: for that diſpleaſes, and may occaſion diſputes and doubts about their true ſituation. All talking to the players leſſens or diverts their attention, and ​is therefore unpleaſing. Nor ſhould you give the leaſt hint to either party, by any kind of noiſe or motion. If you do, you are unworthy to be a ſpectator. If you have a mind to exerciſe or ſhew your judgment, do it in playing your own game, when you have an opportunity, not in criticiſing, or meddling with, or counſelling the play of others.
Laſtly, If the game is not to be played rigorouſly, according to the rules above mentioned, then moderate your deſire of victory over your adverſary, and be pleaſed with one over yourſelf. Snatch not eagerly at every advantage offered by his unſkilfulneſs or inattention; but point out to him kindly, that by ſuch a move he places or leaves a piece in danger and unſupported; that by another he will put his king in a perilous ſituation, &c. By this generous civility (ſo oppoſite to the unfairneſs above forbidden) you may, indeed, happen to loſe the game to your opponent, but you will win what is better, his eſteem, his reſpect, and his affection; together with the ſilent approbation and good-will of impartial ſpectators.
THE
ART OF PROCURING PLEASANT DREAMS,
INSCRIBED TO MISS * * *,
BEING WRITTEN AT HER REQUEST
As a great part of our life is ſpent in ſleep, during which we have ſometimes pleaſing, and ſometimes painful dreams, it becomes of ſome conſequence to obtain the one kind, and avoid the other; for, whether real or imaginary, pain is pain, and pleaſure is pleaſure. If we can ſleep without dreaming, it is well that painful dreams are avoided. If, while we ſleep, we can have any pleaſing dreams, it is, as the French ſay, tant gagné, ſo much added to the pleaſure of life.
To this end it is, in the firſt place, neceſſary to be careful in preſerving health, by due exerciſe, and great temperance; for, in ſickneſs, the imagination is diſturbed; and diſagreeable, ſometimes terrible, ideas are apt to preſent themſelves. Exerciſe ſhould precede meals, not immediately follow them: the firſt promotes, the latter, unleſs moderate, obſtructs digeſtion. If, after exerciſe, we feed ſparingly, the digeſtion will be eaſy and good, the body lightſome, the temper cheerful, and all the animal functions performed agreeably. Sleep, when it follows, will be natural and undiſturbed. While indolence, with full feeding, occaſion night-mares and horrors in- expreſſible: we fall from precipices, are aſſaulted by wild beaſts, murderers, and demons, and ​experience every variety of diſtreſs. Obſerve, however, that the quantities of food and exerciſe are relative things: thoſe who move much may, and indeed ought, to eat more; thoſe who uſe little exerciſe, ſhould eat little. In general, mankind, ſince the improvement of cookery, eat about twice as much as nature requires. Suppers are not bad, if we have not dined; but reſtleſs nights naturally follow hearty ſuppers, after full dinners. Indeed, as there is a difference in conſtitutions, ſome reſt well after theſe meals; it coſts them only a frightful dream, and an apoplexy, after which they; ſleep till doomſday. Nothing is more common in the newſpapers, than inſtances of people, who, after eating a hearty ſupper, are found dead a-bed in the morning.
Another means of preſerving health, to be attended to, is the having a conſtant ſupply of freſh air in your bed-chamber. It has been a great miſtake, the ſleeping in rooms exactly cloſed, and in beds ſurrounded by curtains. No outward air, that may come in to you, is ſo unwholſome as the unchanged air, often breathed, of a cloſe chamber. As boiling water does not grow hotter by longer boiling, if the particles that receive greater heat can eſcape; ſo living bodies do not putrify, if the particles, as faſt as they become putrid, can be thrown off. Nature expels them by the pores of the ſkin and lungs, and in a free open air, they are carried off; but, in a cloſe room, we receive them again, though they become more and more corrupt. A number of perſons crowded into a ſmall room, thus ſpoil the air in a few minutes, and even render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcutta. A ſingle perſon is ſaid to ſpoil only a gallon of air per minute, and therefore requires a longer time to ſpoil a chamberfull; but it is done, however, in ​proportion, and many putrid diſorders hence have their origin. It is recorded of Methuſalem, who, being the longeſt liver, may be ſuppoſed to have beſt preferred his health, that he ſlept always in the open air; for, when he had lived five hundred years, an angel ſaid to him: "Ariſe, Methuſalem; and build thee an houſe, for thou ſhalt live yet five hundred years longer." But Methuſalem anſwered and ſaid: "If I am to live but five hundred years longer, it is not worth while to build me an houſe—I will ſleep in the air as I have been uſed to do." Phyſicians, after having for ages contended that the ſick ſhould not be indulged with freſh air, have at length diſcovered that it may do them good. It is therefore to be hoped that they may in time diſcover likewiſe, that it is not hurtful to thoſe who are in health; and that we may be then cured of the aërophobia that at preſent diſtreſſes weak minds, and make them chooſe to be ſtifled and poiſoned, rather than leave open the window of a bed-chamber, or put down the glaſs of a coach.
Confined air, when ſaturated with perſpirable matter, will not receive more: and that matter muſt remain in our bodies, and occaſion diſeaſes: but it gives ſome previous notice of its being about to be hurtful, by producing certain uneaſineſs, ſlight indeed at firſt, ſuch as, with regard to the lungs, is a trifling ſenſation, and to the pores of the ſkin a kind of reſtleſſneſs which is difficult to deſcribe, and few that feel it know the cauſe of it. But we may recollect, that ſometimes, on waking in the night, we have, if warmly covered, found it difficult to get aſleep again. We ​turn often without finding repoſe in any poſition. This fidgettineſs, to uſe a vulgar expreſſion for want of a better, is occaſioned wholly by an uneaſineſs in the ſkin, owing to the retenſion of the perſpirable matter—the bed-clothes having received their quantity, and, being ſaturated, refuſing to take any more. To become ſenſible of this by an experiment, let a perſon keep his poſition is. the bed, but throw off the bed-clothes, and ſuffer freſh air to approach the part uncovered of his body; he will then feel that part ſuddenly refreſhed; for the air will immediately relieve the ſkin, by receiving, licking up, and carrying off, the load of perſpirable matter that incommoded it. For every portion of cool air that approaches the warm ſkin, in receiving its part of that vapour, receives therewith a degree of heat, that rarifies and renders it higher, when it will be puſhed away, with its burthen, by cooler, and therefore heavier freſh air; which, for a moment, ſupplies its place, and then, being likewiſe changed, and warmed, gives way to a ſucceeding quantity. This is the order of nature, to prevent animals being infected by their own perſpiration. He will now be ſenſible of the difference between the part expoſed to the air, and that which, remaining funk in the bed, denies the air acceſs: for this part now manifeſts its uneaſineſs more diſtinctly by the compariſon, and the ſeat of the uneaſineſs is more plainly perceived, than when the whole ſurface of the body was affected by it.
Here, then, is one great and general cauſe of unpleaſing dreams. For when the body is uneaſy, the mind will be diſturbed by it, and diſagreeable ideas of various kinds will, in ſleep, be the natural conſequences. The remedies, preventative, and curative, follow:
​1. By eating moderately (as before adviſed for health's ſake) leſs perſpirable matter is produced in a given time; hence the bed-clothes receive it longer before they are ſaturated; and we may, therefore, ſleep longer, before we are made uneaſy by their refuſing to receive any more.
2. By uſing thinner and more porous bed-clothes, which will ſuffer the perſpirable matter more eaſily to paſs through them, we are leſs incommoded, ſuch being longer tolerable.
3. When you are awakened by this uneaſineſs, and find you cannot eaſily ſleep again, get out of bed, beat up and turn your pillow, ſhake the bed-clothes well, with at leaſt twenty ſhakes, then, throw the bed open, and leave it to coolſ; in the meanwhile, continuing undreſt, walk about your chamber, till your ſkin has had time to diſcharge its load, which it will do ſooner as the air may be drier and colder. When you begin to feel the cold air unpleaſant, then return to your bed; and you will ſoon fall aſleep, and your ſleep will be ſweet and pleaſant. All the ſcenes presented to your fancy, will be of the pleaſing kind. I am often as agreeably entertained with them, as by the ſcenery of an opera. If you happen to be too indolent to get out of bed, you may, inſtead of it, lift up your bed-clothes with one arm and leg, ſo as to draw in a good deal of freſh air, and, by letting them fall, force it out again. This, repeated twenty times, will ſo clear them of the perſpirable matter they have imbibed, as to permit your ſleeping well for ſome time afterwards. But this latter method is not equal to the former.
Thoſe who do not love trouble, and can afford to have two beds, will find great luxury in riſing, when they wake in a hot bed, and going into the cool one. Such ſhifting of beds would alſo be of great ſervice to perſons ill of a fever, as it ​refreſhes and frequently procures ſleep. A very large bed, that will admit a removal ſo diſtant from the firſt ſituation as to be cool and ſweet, may in a degree anſwer the ſame end.
One or two obſervations more will conclude this little piece. Care muſt be taken, when you lie down, to diſpoſe your pillow ſo as to ſuit your manner of placing your head, and to be perfectly eaſy; then place your limbs ſo as not to bear inconveniently hard upon one another, as, for inſtance, the joints of your ancles: for though a bad poſition may at firſt give but little pain, and be hardly noticed, yet a continuance will render it leſs tolerable, and the uneaſineſs may come on while you are aſleep, and diſturb your imagination.
Theſe are the rules of the art. But though they will generally prove effectual in producing the end intended, there is a caſe in which the moſt punctual obſervance of them will be totally fruitleſs. I need not mention the caſe to you, my dear friend: but my account of the art would be imperfect without it. The caſe is, when the perſon who deſires to have pleaſant dreams has not taken care to preſerve, what is neceſſary above all things,
A GOOD CONSCIENCE.
ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN.
WRITTEN ANNO 1748.
At you have deſired it of me, I write the following hints, which have been of ſervice to me, and may, if obſerved, be ſo to you.
REMEMBER that time is money. He that can earn ten ſhillings a day by his labour, and goes abroad, or ſits idle one half of that day, though he ſpends but ſixpence during his diverſion or idleneſs, ought not to reckon that the only expence; he has really ſpent, or rather thrown away, five ſhillings beſides.
Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the intereſt, or ſo much as I can make of it during that time. This amounts to a conſiderable ſum where a man has good and large credit, and makes good uſe of it.
Remember that money is of a prolific generating nature. Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, and ſo on. Five ſhillings turned is ſix; turned again, it is ſeven and three-pence; and ſo on till it becomes an hundred pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces every turning, ſo that the profits riſe quicker and quicker. He that kills a breeding ſow, deſtroys all her offspring to the thouſandth generation. He that murders a crown, deſtroys all that it might have produced, even ſcores of pounds.
​Remember that ſix pounds a year is but a groat a day. For this little ſum (which may be daily waſted either in time or expence, unperceived), a man of credit may, on his own ſecurity, have the conſtant poſſeſſion and uſe of an hundred pounds. So much in ſtock, briſkly turned by an induſtrious man, produces great advantage.
Remember this ſaying, "The good paymaſter is lord of another man's purſe." He that is known to pay punctually and exactly to the time he promiſes, may at any time, and on any occaſion, raiſe all the money his friends can ſpare. This is ſometimes of great uſe. After induſtry and frugality, nothing contributes more to the raiſing of a young man in the world, than punctuality and juſtice in all his dealings: therefore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promiſed, left a diſappointment ſhut up your friend's purſe for ever.
The moſt trifling actions that affect a man's credit are to be regarded. The ſound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him eaſy ſix months longer: but if he ſees you at a billiard table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you ſhould be at work, he ſends for his money the next day; demands it before he can receive it in a lump.
It ſhews, beſides, that you are mindful of what you owe; it makes you appear a careful, as well as an honeſt man, and that ſtill increaſes your credit.
Beware of thinking all your own that you poſſeſs, and of living accordingly. It is a miſtake that many people who have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account, for ſome time, both of your expences and your ​income. If you take the pains at firſt to mention particulars, it will have this good effect; you will diſcover how wonderfully ſmall trifling expences mount up to large fums, and will diſcern what might have been, and may for the future be ſaved, without occaſioning any great inconvenience.
In ſhort, the way to wealth, if you deſire it, is as plain as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, induſtry and frugality; that is, waſte neither time nor money, but make the beſt uſe of both. Without induſtry and frugality nothing will do, and with them every thing. He that gets all he can honeſtly, and ſaves all he gets (neceſſary expences excepted), will certainly become rich—if that Being who governs the world, to whom all ſhould look for a bleſſing on their honeſt endeavours, doth not, in his wiſe providence, otherwiſe determine.
AN OLD TRADESMAN.
NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE THAT WOULD BE RICH.
WRITTEN ANNO 1736.
THE uſe of money is all the advantage there is in having money.
For ſix pounds a year you may have the life of one hundred pounds, provided you are a man of known prudence and honeſty.
He that ſpends a groat a day idly, ſpends idly above ſix pounds a year, which is the price for the uſe of one hundred pounds.
He that waſtes idly a groat's worth of his time per day, one day with another, waſtes the privilege of uſing one hundred pounds each day.
He that idly loſes five ſhillings worth of time, loſes five ſhillings, and might as prudently throw five ſhillings into the ſea.
He that loſes five ſhillings, not only loſes that ſum, but all the advantage that might be made by turning it in dealing, which, by the time that a young man becomes old, will amount to a conſiderable ſum of money.
Again: he that ſells upon credit, aſks a price for what he ſells equivalent to the principal and intereſt of his money for the time he is to be kept out of it; therefore, he that buys upon credit, pays intereſt for what he buys; and he that pays ready money, might let that money out to uſe: ſo that he that poſſeſſes any thing he has bought, pays intereſt for the uſe of it.
​Yet, in buying goods, it is beſt to pay ready money, becauſe, he that ſells upon credit, expects to loſe five per cent. by bad debts; therefore he charges, on all he ſells upon credit, an advance that ſhall make up that deficiency.
Thoſe who pay for what they buy upon credit, pay their ſhare of this advance.
He that pays ready money, eſcapes, or may eſcape, that charge.
A penny ſav'd is two-pence clear;
A pin a day's a groat a year.
THE WAY TO MAKE MONEY PLENTY IN EVERY MAN'S POCKET.
AT this time, when the general complaint is that—"money is ſcarce," it will be an act of kindneſs to inform the moneyleſs how they may reinforce their pockets. I will acquaint them with the true ſecret of money-catching the certain way to fill empty purſes and how to keep them always full. Two ſimple rules, well obſerved, will do the buſineſs.
Firſt, let honeſty and induſtry be thy conſtant companions; and,
Secondly, ſpend one penny leſs than thy clear gains.
Then ſhall thy hide-bound pocket ſoon begin to thrive, and will never again cry with the empty belly-ach: neither will creditors inſult thee, nor want oppreſs, nor hunger bite, nor nakedneſs freeze thee. The whole hemiſphere will ſhine brighter, and pleaſure ſpring up in every corner of thy heart. Now, therefore, embrace theſe rules and be happy. Baniſh the bleak winds of ſorrow from thy mind, and live independent. Then ſhalt thou be a man, and not hide thy face at the approach of the rich, nor ſuffer the pain of feeling little when the ſons of fortune walk at thy right hand: for independency, whether with little or much, is good fortune, and placeth thee on even ground with the proudeſt of the golden fleece. Oh, then, be wiſe, and let induſtry walk with thee in the morning, and attend thee until thou reached the evening hour for reſt. Let honeſty be as the breath of thy ſoul, and ​never forget to have a penny, when all thy expences are enumerated and paid: then ſhalt thou reach the point of happineſs, and independence ſhall be thy ſhield and buckler, thy helmet and crown; then ſhall thy ſoul walk upright, nor ſtoop to the ſilken wretch becauſe he hath riches, nor pocket an abuſe becauſe the hand which offers it wears a ring ſet with diamonds.
AN ŒCONOMICAL PROJECT.
TO THE AUTHORS OF THE JOURNAL.
MESSIEURS,
YOU often entertain us with accounts of new diſcoveries. Permit me to communicate to the public, through your paper, one that has lately been made by myſelf, and which I conceive may be of great utility.
I was the other evening in a grand company, where the new lamp of Meſſrs. Quinquet and Lange was introduced, and much admired for its ſplendor; but a general enquiry was made, whether the oil it conſumed was not in proportion to the light it afforded, in which caſe there would be no ſaving in the uſe of it. No one preſent could ſatisfy us in that point, which all agreed ought to be known, it being a very deſirable thing to leſſen, if poſſible, the expence of lighting our apartments, when every other article of family expence was ſo much augmented.
I was pleaſed to ſee this general concern for œconomy; for I love œconomyexceedingly.
I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after midnight, with my head full of the ſubject. An accidental ſudden noiſe waked me about, ſix in the morning, when I was ſurprized to find my ​room filled with light; and I imagined at firſt, that a number of thoſe lamps had been brought into it: but, rubbing my eyes, I perceived the light came in at the windows. I got up and looked out to ſee what might be the occaſion of it, when I ſaw the ſun juſt riling above the horizon, from whence he poured his rays plentifully into my chamber, my domeſtic having negligently omitted the preceding evening to cloſe the ſhutters.
I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and found that it was but ſix o'clock; and ſtill thinking it ſomething extraordinary that the ſun ſhould rife ſo early, I looked into the almanack, where I found it to be the hour given for his riſing on that day. I looked forward too, and found he was to riſe ſtill earlier every day till towards the end of June; and that at no time in the year he retarded his riſing ſo long as till eight o'clock. Your readers, who with me have never ſeen any ſigns of ſunſhine before noon, and ſeldom regard the aſtronomical part of the almanack, will be as much aſtoniſhed as I was, when they hear of his riſing ſo early; and eſpecially when I allure them, that he gives light as ſoon as he riſes. I am convinced of this. I am certain of my fact. One cannot be more certain of any fact. I ſaw it with my own eyes. And having repeated this obſervation the three following mornings, I found always preciſely the ſame reſult.
Yet ſo it happens, that when I ſpeak of this diſcovery to others, I can eaſily perceive by their countenances, though they forbear expreſſing it in words, that they do not quite believe me. One, indeed, who is a learned natural philoſopher, has aſſured me, that I muſt certainly be miſtaken as to the circumſtance of the light coming into my room; for it being well known, as he ſays, that ​there could be no light abroad at that hour, it follows that none could enter from without; and that of conſequence, my windows being accidentally left open, inſtead of letting in the light, had only ſerved to let out the darkneſs: and he uſed many ingenious arguments to ſhew me how I might, by that means, have been deceived. I own that he puzzled me a little, but he did not ſatisfy me; and the ſubſequent obſervations I made, as above mentioned, confirmed me in my firſt opinion.
This event has given riſe, in my mind, to ſeveral ſerious and important reflections. I conſidered that, if I had not been awakened ſo early in the morning, I ſhould have ſlept fix hours longer by the light of the ſun, and in exchange have lived ſix hours the following night by candle-light; and the latter being a much more expenſive light than the former, my love of œconomy induced me to muſter up what little arithmetic I was maſter of, and to make ſome calculations, which I ſhall give you, after obſerving, that utility is, in my opinion, the teſt of value in matters of invention, and that a diſcovery which can be applied to no uſe, or is not good for ſomething, is good for nothing.
I took for the baſis of my calculation the ſuppoſition that there are 100,000 families in Paris, and that theſe families conſume in the night half a pound of bougies, or candles, per hour. I think this is a moderate allowance, taking one family with another; for though I believe ſome conſume leſs, I know that many conſume a great deal more. Then eſtimating ſeven hours per day, as the medium quantity between the time of the ſun's riſing and ours, he riſing during the ſix following months from ſix to eight hours before noon, and there being ſeven hours of courſe per ​night in which we burn candles, the account will ſtand thus—
In the ſix months between the twentieth of March and the twentieth of September, there are
| Nights | 183 |
| Hours of each night in which we burn candles | 7 |
| Multiplication gives for the total number of hours | 1,281 |
| Theſe 1,281 hours multiplied by 100,000, the number of inhabitants, give | 128,100,000 |
| One hundred twenty-eight millions and one hundred thouſand hours, ſpent at Paris by candle-light, which, at half a pound of wax and tallow per hour, gives the weight of | 64,050,000 |
| Sixty-four millions and fifty thouſand of pounds, which, eſtimating the whole at the medium price of thirty ſols the pound, makes the ſum of ninety-ſix millions and ſeventy-five thouſand livres tournois | 96,075,000 |
An immenſe ſum! that the city of Paris might ſave every year, by the œconomy of uſing ſun-ſhine inſtead of candles.
If it ſhould be ſaid, that people are apt to be obſtinately attached to old cuſtoms, and that it will be difficult to induce them to riſe before noon, conſequently my diſcovery can be of little uſe; I anſwer, Nil deſperandum. I believe all who have common ſenſe, as ſoon as they have learnt from this paper that it is day-light when the ſun riſes, will contrive to riſe with him; and, ​to compel the reſt, I would propoſe the following regulations.
Firſt. Let a tax be laid of a louis per window, on every window that is provided with ſhutters to keep out the light of the ſun.
Second. Let the ſame ſalutary operation of police be made uſe of to prevent our burning candles, that inclined us laſt winter to be more œconomical in burning wood; that is, let guards be placed in the ſhops of the wax and tallow-chandlers, and no family be permitted to be ſupplied with more than one pound of candles per week. Third. Let guards alſo be poſted to ſtop all the coaches, &c. that would paſs the ſtreets after ſunſet, except thoſe of phyſicians, ſurgeons, and mid wives.
Fourth. Every morning, as ſoon as the ſun riſes, let all the bells in every church be ſet ringing: and if that is not ſufficient, let cannon be fired in every ſtreet, to wake the ſluggards effectually, and make them open their eyes to ſee their true intereſt.
All the difficulty will be in the firſt two or three days; after which the reformation will be as natural and eaſy as the preſent irregularity: for, ce n'eſt que le premier pas qui coute. Oblige a man to riſe at four in the morning, and it is more than probable he ſhall go willingly to bed at eight in the evening; and, having had eight hours ſleep, he will riſe more willingly at four the morning following. But this ſum of ninety-fix millions and ſeventy-five thouſand livres is not the whole of what may be ſaved by my œconomical project. You may obſerve, that I have calculated upon only one half of the year, and much may be ſaved in the other, though the days are ſhorter. Beſides, the immenſe ſtock of wax and tallow left unconſumed during the ſummer, will ​probably make candles much cheaper for the enſuing winter, and continue cheaper as long as the propoſed reformation ſhall be ſupported. For the great benefit of this diſcovery, thus freely communicated and beſtowed by me on the public, I demand neither place, penſion, excluſive privilege, or any other reward whatever. I expect only to have the honour of it. And yet I know there are little envious minds who will, as uſual, deny me this, and ſay that my invention was known to the ancients, and perhaps they may bring paſſages out of the old books in proof of it. I will not diſpute with theſe people that the ancients knew not the ſun would riſe at certain hours; they poſſibly had, as we have, almanacks that predicted it: but it does not follow from thence that they knew he gave light as ſoon as he roſe. This is what I claim as my diſcovery. If the ancient knew it, it muſt have been long ſince forgotten, for it certainly was unknown to the moderns, at leaſt to the Pariſians; which to prove, I need uſe but one plain ſimple argument. They are as well inſtructed, judicious, and prudent a people as exiſt any where in the world, all profeſing, like myſelf, to be lovers of ceconomy; and, from the many heavy taxes required from them by the neceſſities of the ſtate, have ſurely reaſon to be ceconomical. I ſay it is impoſſible that ſo ſenſible a people, under ſuch circumſtances, ſhould have lived ſo long by the ſmoky, unwholſome, 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.
ON MODERN INNOVATIONS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND IN PRINTING.
to Noah Webster, jun. esq. at Hartford.
Philadelphia, Dec. 26, 1789.
DEAR SIR,
I RECEIVED, ſome time ſince, your Diſſertations on the Engliſh Language. It is an excellent work, and will be greatly uſeful in turning the thoughts of our countrymen to correct writing. Pleaſe to accept my thanks for it, as well as for the great honour you have done me in its dedication. I ought to have made this acknowledgement ſooner, but much indiſpoſition prevented me.
I cannot but applaud your zeal for preſerving the purity of our language both in its expreſſion and pronunciation, and in correcting the popular errors ſeveral of our ſtates are continually falling into with reſpect to both. Give me leave to mention ſome of them, though poſſibly they may already have occurred to you. I wiſh, however, that in ſome future publication of yours, you would ſet a diſcountenancing mark upon them. The firſt I remember, is the word improved. When I left New-England in the year 1723, this word had never been uſed among us, as far as I know, but in the ſenſe of ameliorated, or made better, except once in a very old book of Dr. Mather's, entitled Remarkable Providences. As that man wrote a very obſcure hand, I remember that when I read that word in his book, uſed inſtead of the word employed, I conjectured that it was an error ​of the printer, who had miſtaken a ſhort l in the writing for an r, and a y with too ſhort a tail for a v, whereby employed was converted into improved: but when I returned to Boſton in 1733, I found this change had obtained favour, and was then become common; for I met with it often in peruſing the newſpapers, where it frequently made an appearance rather ridiculous. Such, for inſtance, as the advertiſement of a country houſe to be ſold, which had been many years improved as a tavern; and in the character of a deceaſed country gentleman, that he had been, for more than thirty years, improved as a juſtice of the peace. This uſe of the word improve is peculiar to New-England, and not to be met with among any other ſpeakers of Engliſh, either on this or the other ſide of the water.
During my late abſence in France, I find that ſeveral other new words have been introduced into our parliamentary language. For example, I find a verb formed from the ſubſtantive notice. I ſhould not have noticed this, were it not that the gentleman, &c. Alſo another verb, from the ſubſtantive advocate; The gentleman who advocates, or who has advocated that motion, &c. Another from the ſubſtantive progreſs, the moſt aukward and abominable of the three: The committee having progreſſed, reſolved to adjourn. The word oppoſed, though not a new word, I find uſed in a new manner, as, The gentlemen who are oppoſed to this meaſure, to which I have alſo myſelf always been oppoſed. If you ſhould happen to be of my opinion with reſpect to theſe innovations, you will uſe your authority in reprobating them.
The Latin language, long the vehicle uſed in diſtributing knowledge among the different nations of Europe, is daily more and more neglected; and one of the modern tongues, viz. French, ​ſeems, in point of univerſality, to have ſupplied its place. It is ſpoken in all the courts of Europe; and moſt of the literati, thoſe even who do not ſpeak it, have acquired knowledge of it, to enable them eaſily to read the books that are written in it. This gives a conſiderable advantage to that nation. It enables its authors to inculcate and ſpread through other nations, ſuch ſentiments and opinions, on important points, as are moſt conducive to its intereſts, or which may contribute to its reputation, by promoting the common intereſts of mankind. It is, perhaps, owing to its being written in French, that Voltaire's Treatiſe on Toleration has had ſo ſudden and ſo great an effect on the bigotry of Europe, as almoſt entirely to diſarm it. The general uſe of the French language has likewiſe a very advantageous effect on the profits of the bookſelling branch of commerce, it being well known, that the more copies can be ſold that are ſtruck off from one compoſition of types, the profits increaſe in a much greater proportion than they do in making a greater number of pieces in any other kind of manufacture. And at preſent there is no capital town in Europe without a French bookſeller's ſhop correſponding with Paris. Our Engliſh bids fair to obtain the ſecond place. The great body of excellent printed ſermons in our language, and the freedom of our writings on political ſubjects, have induced a great number of divines of different ſects and nations, as well as gentlemen concerned in public affairs, to ſtudy it, ſo far at leaſt as to read it. And if we were to endeavour the facilitating its progreſs, the ſtudy of our tongue might become much more general. Thoſe who have employed ſome part of their time in learning a new language, muſt have frequently obſerved, that while their ​acquaintance with it was imperfect, difficulties, ſmall in themſelves, operated as great ones in obſtructing their progreſs. A book, for example, ill printed, or a pronunciation in ſpeaking not well articulated, would render a ſentence unintelligible, which from a clear print, or a diſtinct ſpeaker, would have been immediately comprehended. If, therefore, we would have the benefit of ſeeing our language more generally known among mankind, we ſhould endeavour to remove all the difficulties, however ſmall, that diſcourage the learning of it. But I am ſorry to obſerve that, of late years, thoſe difficulties, inſtead of being diminiſhed, have been augmented.
In examining the Engliſh books that were print- ed between the reſtoration and the acceſſion of George the Second, we may obſerve, that all ſubſtantives were begun with a capital, in which we imitated our mother tongue, the German. This was more particularly uſeful to thoſe who were not well acquainted with the Engliſh, there being ſuch a prodigious number of our words that are both verbs and ſubſtantives, and ſpelt in the ſame manner, though often accented differently in pronunciation. This method has, by the fancy of printers, of late years been entirely laid aſide; from an idea, that ſuppreſſing the capitals ſhews the character to greater advantage; thoſe letters, prominent above the line, diſturbing its even, regular appearance. The effect of this change is ſo conſiderable, that a learned man of France, who uſed to read our books, though not perfectly acquainted with our language, in converſation with me on the ſubject of our authors, attributed the greater obſcurity he found in our modern books, compared with thoſe of the period above mentioned, to a change of ſtyle for the worſe in our writers; of which ​miſtake I convinced him, by marking for him each ſubſtantive with a capital, in a paragraph, which he then eaſily underſtood, though before he could not comprehend it. This ſhews the inconvenience of that pretended improvement.
From the ſame fondneſs for an uniform and even appearance of characters in the line, the printers have of late baniſhed alſo the Italic types, in which words of importance to be attended to in the ſenſe of the ſentence, and words on which an emphaſis ſhould be put in reading, uſed to be printed. And lately another fancy has induced other printers to uſe the round s inſtead of the long one, which formerly ſerved well to diſtinguiſh a word readily by its varied appearance. Certainly the omitting this prominent letter makes a line appear more even, but renders it leſs immediately legible; as the paring of all men's noſes might ſmooth and level their faces, would render their phyſiognomies leſs diſtinguiſhable. Add to all theſe improvements backwards, another modern fancy, that grey printing is more beautiful than black. Hence the Engliſh new books are printed in ſo dim a character as to be read with difficulty by old eyes, unleſs in a very ſtrong light and with good glaſſes. Whoever compares a volume of the Gentleman's Magazine, printed between the years 1731 and 1740, with one of thoſe printed in the laſt ten years, will be convinced of the much greater degree of perſpicuity given by black than by the grey. Lord Cheſterfield pleaſantly remarked this difference to Faulkner, the printer of the Dublin Journal, who was vainly making encomiums on his own paper, as the moſt complete of any in the world. "But Mr. Faulkner," ſays my lord, "don't you think it might be ſtill farther improved, by uſing paper and ink not quite of near of a colour ?"—For all ​theſe reaſons I cannot but wiſh that our American printers would, in their editions, avoid theſe fancied improvements, and thereby render their works more agreeable to foreigners in Europe, to the great advantage of our bookſelling commerce.
Farther, to be more ſenſible of the advantage of clear and diſtinct printing, let us conſider the aſſiſtance it affords in reading well aloud to an auditory. In ſo doing the eye generally ſlides forward three or four words before the voice. If the ſight clearly diſtinguiſhes what the coming words are, it gives time to order the modulation of the voice to expreſs them properly. But if they are obſcurely printed, or diſguiſed by omitting the capitals and long ſ's, or otherwiſe, the reader is apt to modulate wrong; and finding he has done ſo, he is obliged to go back and begin the ſentence again; which leſſens the pleaſure of the hearers. This leads me to mention an old error in our mode of printing. We are ſenſible that when a queſtion is met with in the reading, there is a proper variation to be uſed in the management of the voice. We have, therefore, a point, called an interrogation, affixed to the queſtion, in order to diſtinguiſh it. But this is abſurdly placed at its end, ſo that the reader does not diſcover it till he finds that he has wrongly modulated his voice, and is therefore obliged to begin again the ſentence. To prevent this, the Spaniſh printers, more ſenſibly, place an interrogation at the beginning as well as at the end of the queſtion. We have another error of the ſame kind in printing plays, where ſomething often occurs that is marked as ſpoken aſide. But the word aſide is placed at the end of the ſpeech, when it ought to precede it, as a direction to the reader, that he may govern his voice accordingly. The practice of our ladies in meeting five or fix ​together, to form little buſy parties, where each is employed in ſome uſeful work, while one reads to them, is ſo commendable in itſelf, that it deſerves the attention of authors and printers to make it as pleaſing as poſſible, both to the reader and hearers.
My beſt wiſhes attend you, being with ſincere eſteem,
Sir,
Your moſt obedient and
very humble ſervant,
B. FRANKLIN.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE HIGHEST COURT OF JUDICATURE IN PENNSYLVANIA, VIZ.
THE COURT OF THE PRESS.
POWER OF THIS COURT.
IT may receive and promulgate accuſations of all kinds, againſt all perſons and characters among the citizens of the ſtate, and even againſt all inferior courts; and may judge, ſentence, and condemn to infamy, not only private individuals, but public bodies, &c. with or without enquiry or hearing, at the court's diſcretion.
In 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 ſcribbling, has acquired a tolerable ſtyle as to grammar and conſtruction, ſo as to bear printing; or who is poſſeſſed of a preſs and a few types. This five hundredth part of the citizens have the privilege of accuſing and abuſing the other four hundred and ninety-nine parts, at their pleaſure; or they may hire out their pen and preſs to others, for that purpoſe.
Practice of this court.
It is not governed by any of the rules of the common courts of law. The accuſed is allowed no grand jury to judge of the truth of the accuſation before it is publicly made; nor is the name of the accuſer made known to him; nor has he ​an opportunity of confronting the witneſſes againſt him, for they are kept in the dark, as in the Spaniſh court of inquiſition. Nor is there any petty jury of his peers ſworn to try the truth of the charges. The proceedings are alſo ſometimes ſo rapid, that an honeſt good citizen may find himſelf ſuddenly and unexpectedly accuſed, and in the fame morning judged and condemned, and ſentence pronounced againſt him that he is a rogue and a villain. Yet if an officer of this court receives the ſlighteſt check for miſconduct in this his office, he claims immediately the rights of a free citizen by the conſtitution, and demands to know his accuſer, to confront the witneſſes, and to have a fair trial by a jury of his peers,
The foundation of its authority.
It is ſaid to be founded on an article in the ſtate conſtitution, which eſtabliſhed the liberty of the preſs——a liberty which every Pennſylvanian would fight and die for, though few of us, I believe, have diſtinct ideas of its nature and extent. It ſeems, indeed, ſomewhat like the liberty of the preſs, that felons have, by the common law of England before conviction; that is, to be either preſſed to death or hanged. If, by the liberty of the preſs, were underſtood merely the liberty of diſcuſſing the propriety of public meaſures and political opinions, let us have as much of it as you pleaſe; but if it means the liberty of affronting, calumniating, and defaming one another, I, for my part, own myſelf willing to part with my ſhare of it, whenever our legiſlators ſhall pleaſe ſo to alter the law; and hall cheerfully conſent to exchange my liberty of abuſing others, for the privilege cf not being abuſed myſelf.
By whom this court is commiſſioned or conſtituted.
It is not by any commiſſion from the ſupreme executive council, who might previouſly judge of the abilities, integrity, knowledge, &c. of the perſon to be appointed to this great truſt, of deciding upon the characters and good fame of the citizens: for this court is above that council, and may accuſe, judge, and condemn it at pleaſure. Nor is it hereditary, as is the court of dernier reſort in the peerage of England. But any man who can procure pen, ink, and paper, with a preſs, a few types, and a huge pair of blacking balls, may commiſſionate himſelf, and his court is immediately eſtabliſhed in the plenary poſſeſſion and exerciſe of its rights. For if you make the leaſt complaint of the judge's conduct, he daubs his blacking balls in your face wherever he meets you: and beſides tearing your private character to ſplinters, marks you out for the odium of the public, as an enemy to the liberty of the preſs.
Of the natural ſupport of this court.
Its ſupport is founded in the depravity of ſuch minds as have not been mended by religion, nor improved by good education.
There is a luſt in man no charm can tame,
Of loudly publiſhing his neighbour's ſhame.
Hence,
On eagles' wings, immortal ſcandals fly,
While virtuous actions are but born and die.
Dryden.
Whoever feels pain in hearing a good character of his neighbour, will feel a pleaſure in the reverſe. And of thoſe who, deſpairing to riſe ​to diſtinction by their virtues, are happy if others can be depreſſed to a level with themſelves, there are a number ſufficient in every great town to maintain one of theſe courts by their ſubſcription. A ſhrewd obſerver once ſaid, that in walking the ſtreets of a ſlippery morning, one might ſee where the good-natured people lived, by the aſhes thrown on the ice before the doors: probably he would have formed a different conjecture of the temper of thoſe whom he might find engaged in ſuch ſubſcriptions.
Of the checks proper to be eſtabliſhed againſt the abuſes of power in thoſe courts.
Hitherto there are none. But ſince ſo much has been written and publiſhed on the federal conſtitution; and the neceſſity of checks, in all other parts of good government, has been ſo clearly and learnedly explained, I find myſelf ſo far enlightened as to ſuſpect ſome check may be proper in this part alſo: but I have been at a loſs to imagine any that may not be conſtrued an infringement of the ſacred liberty of the preſs. At length, however, I think I have found one, that, inſtead of diminiſhing general liberty, ſhall augment it; which is, by reſtoring to the people a ſpecies of liberty of which they have been deprived by our laws, I mean the liberty of the cudgel! In the rude ſtate of ſociety prior to the exiſtence of laws, if one man gave another ill-language, the affronted perſon might return it by a box on the ear; and if repeated, by a good drubbing; and this without offending againſt any law: but now the right of making ſuch returns is denied, and they are puniſhed as breaches of the peace, while the right of abuſing ſeems to remain in full force; the laws made againſt it being rendered ineffectual by the liberty of the preſs.
​My propoſal then is, to leave the liberty of the preſs untouched, to be exerciſed in its full extent, force, and vigour, but to permit the liberty of the cudgel to go with it, pari paſſu, Thus, my fellow citizens, if an impudent writer attacks your reputation—dearer perhaps to you than your life, and puts his name to the charge you may go to him as openly, and break his head. If he conceals himſelf behind the printer, and you can nevertheleſs diſcover who he is, you may, in like manner way-lay him in the night, attack him behind, and give him a good drubbing. If your adverſary hires better writers than himſelf, to abuſe you more effectually, you may hire brawney porters, ſtronger than yourſelf, to aſſiſt you in giving him a more effectual drubbing. Thus far goes my project, as to private reſentment and retribution. But if the public ſhould ever happen to be affronted, as it ought to be, with the conduct of ſuch writers, I would not adviſe proceeding immediately to theſe extremities, but that we ſhould in moderation content ourſelves with tarring and feathering, and toſſing them in a blanket.
If, however, it ſhould be thought that this propoſal of mine may diſturb the public peace, I ſhould then humbly recommend to our legiſlators to take up the conſideration of both liberties, that of the preſs, and that of the cudgel; and by an explicit law mark their extent and limits: and at the ſame time that they ſecure the perſon of a citizen from aſſaults, they would like wiſe provide for the ſecurity of his reputation.
PAPER: A POEM.
SOME wit of old—ſuch wits of old there were—
Whoſe hints ſhow'd meaning, whoſe alluſions care,
By one brave ſtroke to mark all human-kind,
Call'd clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind;
When ſtill, as opening ſenſe her dictates wrote,
Fair virtue put a ſeal, or vice a blot.
The thought was happy, pertinent, and true;
Methinks a genius might the plan puſue.
I (can you pardon my preſumption), I—
No wit, no genius, yet for once will try.   Various the papers various wants produce,
The wants of faſhion, elegance, and uſe,
Men are as various: and, if right I ſcan,
Each ſort of paper repreſents ſome man.   Pray note the fop—half powder and half lace—
Nice, as a bandbox were his dwelling-place:
He's he gilt-paper, which apart you ſtore,
And lock from vulgar hands in the ’ſcrutoire.   Mechanics, ſervants, farmers, and ſo forth,
Are copy-paper, of inferior worth;
Leſs priz'd, more uſeful, for your deſk decreed,
Free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need.   The wretch whom av'rice bids to pinch and ſpare.
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarſe brown paper; ſuch as pedlars chooſe
To wrap up wares, which better men will uſe.
Take next the miſer's contraſt, who deſtroys
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys.
Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout,
He’s a true ſinking-paper, paſt all doubt.
The retail politician's anxious thought
Deems this ſide always right, and that ſtark nought;
He foams with cenſure; with applauſe he raves—
A dupe to rumours, and a tool of knaves;
He'll want no type his weakneſs to proclaim,
While ſuch a thing as fools-cap has a name.
The hafty gentleman, whofe blood runs high.
Who picks a quarrel, if you ſtep awry,
Who can't a jeſt, or hint, or look endure:
What's he? What? Touch-paper to be ſure.
What are our poets, take them as they fall,
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all?
Them and their works in the ſame claſs you'll find;
They are the mere waſte-paper of mankind.
Obſerve the maiden, innocently ſweet,
She's fair white-paper, an unſullied ſheet;
On which the happy man whom fate ordains,
May write his name, and take her for his pains.
One inſtance more, and only one I'll bring;
Tis the great man who ſcorns a little thing,
Whoſe thoughts, whoſe deeds, whoſe maxims are his own,
Formed on the feelings of his heart alone:
True genuine royal-paper is his breaſt;
Of all the kinds moſt precious, pureſt, beſt.
ON THE ART OF SWIMMING.
IN ANSWER TO SOME ENQUIRIES OF M. DUBOURG ON THE SUBJECT.
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, therefore, content myſelf with a few remarks.
The ſpecific gravity of ſome human bodies, in compariſon to that of water has been examined by M. Robinſon, in our philoſophical Tranſactions, volume 50, page 30, for the year 1757. He aſſerts, that fat perſons with ſmall bones float moſt eaſily upon water.
The diving bell is accurately deſcribed in our Tranſactions.
When 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 reſemble a painter's pallets. In ſwimming I puſhed the edges of theſe forward, and I ſtruck the water with their flat ſurfaces as I drew them back. I remember I ſwam faſter by means of theſe pallets, but they fatigued my wriſts.—I alſo fitted to the ſoles of my feet a kind of ſandals; but I was not ſatisfied with them, becauſe I obſerved that the ſtroke is partly given by the inſide of the feet and the ancles, and not entirely with the ſoles of the feet.
We have here waiſtcoats for ſwimming, which are made of double ſail-cloth, with ſmall pieces, of cork quilted in between them.
​I know nothing of the ſcapbandre 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 method of driving it away is to give to the parts affected ſudden, vigorous, and violent ſhock; which he may do in the air as he ſwims on his back.
During the great heats of ſummer there is no danger in bathing, however warm we may be, in rivers which have been thoroughly warmed by the ſun. But to throw oneſelf into cold ſpring water, when the body has been heated in the ſun, is an imprudence Which may prove fatal. I once knew an inſtance of four young men, who having worked at harveſt in the heat of the day, with a view of refreshing themſelves plunged into a ſpring of cold Water: two died upon the ſpot, a third the next morning, and the fourth recovered with great difficulty. A copious draught of cold water, in ſimilar circumſtances, is frequently attended with the fame effect in North America.
The exerciſe of ſwimming is one of the moſt healthy and agreeable in the world. After having ſwam for ah hour or two in the evening, one ſleeps coolly the whole night, even during the moſt ardent heat of ſummer. Perhaps the pores being cleanſed, the inſenſible perſpiration increaſes and occaſions this coolneſs.—It is certain that much ſwimming is the means of ſtopping a diarrhœa, and even of producing a conſtipation. With reſpect to thoſe who do not know how to ​ſwim, or who are affected with a diarrhœa 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 repeated, and that of others to whom I have recommended this.
You will not be diſpleaſed if I conclude theſe haſty remarks by informing you, that as the ordinary method of ſwimming is reduced to the act of rowing with the arms and legs, and is conſequently a laborious and fatiguing operation when the ſpace of water to be croſſed is conſiderable; 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 myfelf one day with flying a paper kite; and approaching the bank of a pond, which was near a mile broad, I tied the ſtring to a ſtake, and the kite aſcended to a very conſiderable height above the pond, while I was ſwimming. In a little time, being deſirous of amuſing myſelf with my kite, and enjoying at the ſame time the pleaſure of ſwimming, I returned; and looſing from the ſtake the ſtring with the little ſtick which was faſtened to it, went again into the water, where I found that, lying on my back and holding the ſtick in my hands, I was drawn along the ſurface of the water in a very agreeable manner. Having then engaged another boy to carry my clothes round the pond, to a place which I pointed out to him on the other ſide, I began to croſs the pond with my kite, which carried me quite over without the leaſt fatigue, and with the greateſt pleaſure imaginable. I was only obliged occaſionally to halt a little in my courſe, and reſiſt its progreſs, ​when it appeared that, by following too quick, I lowered the kite too much; by doing which occaſionally I made it riſe again.—I have never ſince that time practiſed this ſingular mode of ſwimming, though I think it not impoſſible to croſs in this manner from Dover to Calais. The packet-boat, however, is ſtill preferable.
NEW MODE OF BATHING.
EXTRACTS OF LETTERS TO M. DUBOURG.
London, July 28, 1763.
I GREATLY approve the epithet which you give, in your letter of the 8th of June, to the new method of treating the fmall pox, which you call the tonic or bracing method: I will take occaſion, from it, to mention a practice to which I have accuſtomed myſelf. You know the cold bath has long been in vogue here as a tonic but the ſhock of the cold water has always appeared to me, generally ſpeaking, as too violent, and I have found it much more agreeable to my conſtitution to bathe in another element, I mean cold air. With this view I riſe early almoſt every morning, and ſit in my chamber without any clothes whatever, half an hour or an hour, according to the ſeaſon, either reading or writing. This practice is not in the leaſt painful, but, on the contrary, agreeable; and if I return to bed afterwards, before I dreſs myſelf, as ſometimes happens, I make a ſupplement to my night's reſt of one or two hours of the moſt pleaſing ſleep that can be imagined. I find no ill conſequences whatever reſulting from it, and that at leaſt it does not injure my health, if it does not in fact contribute much to its preſervation.—I ſhall therefore call it for the future a bracing or tonic bath.
March 10, 1773,
I ſhall not attempt to explain why damp clothes occaſion colds, rather than wet ones, becauſe I doubt the fact; I imagine that neither the one nor the other contribute to this effect, and that the cauſes of colds are totally independent of wet and even of cold. I propoſe writing a ſhort paper on this ſubject, the firſt moment of leiſure I have at my diſpoſal.—In the mean time I can only ſay, that having ſome ſuſpicions that the common notion, which attributes to cold the property of ſtopping the pores and obſtructing perſpiration, was ill founded, I engaged a young phyſician, who is making ſome experiments with Sanctorius's balance, to eſtimate the different proportions of his perſpiration, when remaining one hour quite naked, and another warmly clothed. He purſued the experiment in this alternate manner for eight hours ſucceſſively, and found his perſpiration almoſt double during thoſe hours in which he was naked.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE GENERALLY PREVAILING DOCTRINES OF LIFE AND DEATH.
TO THE SAME.
YOUR obſervations on the cauſes of death, and the experiments which you propoſe for recalling to life thoſe who appear to be killed by lightning, demonſtrate equally your ſagacity and humanity. It appears that the doctrines of life and death, in general, are yet but little underſtood.
A toad buried in ſand will live, it is ſaid, until the ſand becomes petrified; and then, being incloſed in the ſtone, it may ſtill live for we know not how many ages. The facts which are cited in ſupport of this opinion, are too numerous and too circumſtantial not to deſerve a certain degree of credit. As we are accuſtomed to ſee all the animals with which we are acquainted eat and drink, it appears to us difficult to conceive how a toad can be ſupported in ſuch a dungeon. But if we reflect, that the neceſſity of nouriſhment, which animals experience in their ordinary ſtate, proceeds from the continual waſte of their ſubſtance by perſpiration; it will appear leſs incredible, that ſome animals in a torpid ſtate, perſpiring leſs becauſe they uſe no exerciſe, ſhould have leſs need of aliment; and that others, which are covered with ſcales or ſhells, which ſtop perſpiration, ſuch as land and ſea turtles, ſerpents, and ſome ſpecies of fiſh, ſhould be able to ſubſiſt a conſiderable time ​without any nouriſhment whatever.—A plant, with its flowers, fades and dies immediately, if expoſed to the air without having its roots immerſed in a humid foil, from which it may draw a ſufficient quantity of moiſture, to ſupply that which exhales from its ſubſtance, and is carried off continually by the air. Perhaps, however, if it were buried in quickſilver, it might preſerve, for a conſiderable ſpace of time, its vegetable life, its ſmell and colour. If this be the caſe, it might prove a commodious method of tranſporting from diſtant countries thoſe delicate plants which are unable to ſuſtain the inclemency of the weather at ſea, and which require particular care and attention.
I have ſeen an inſtance of common flies preſerved in a manner ſomewhat ſimilar. They had been drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the time when it was bottled in Virginia, to be ſent to London. At the opening, of one of the bottles, at the houſe of a friend where I was, three drowned flies fell into the firſt glaſs which was filled. Having heard it remarked that drowned flies were capable of being revived by the rays of the ſun, I propoſed making the experiment upon theſe. They were therefore expoſed to the ſun, upon a ſieve which had been employed to ſtrain them out of the wine. In leſs than three hours two of them began by degrees to recover life. They commenced by ſome convulſive motions in the thighs, and at length they raiſed themſelves upon their legs, wiped their eyes with their fore feet, beat and bruſhed their wings with their hind feet, and ſoon after began to fly, finding themſelves in Old England, without knowing how they came thither. The third continued lifeleſs until ſun-ſet, when, loſing all hopes of him, he was thrown away.
​I wiſh it were poſſible, from this inſtance, to invent a method of embalming drowned perſons, in ſuch a manner that they might be recalled to life at any period, however diſtant; for having a very ardent deſire to fee and obſerve the ſtate of America an hundred years hence, I ſhould prefer, to an ordinary death, the being immerſed in a caſk of Madeira wine, with a few friends, until that time, then to be recalled to life by the ſolar warmth of my dear country! But ſince, in all probability, we live in an age too early, and too near the infancy of ſcience, to ſee ſuch an art brought in our time to its perfection, I muſt, for the preſent, content myſelf with the treat, which you are ſo kind as to promiſe me, of the reſurrection of a fowl or a turkey-cock.
PRECAUTIONS TO BE USED BY THOSE WHO ARE ABOUT TO UNDERTAKE A SEA VOYAGE.
WHEN you intend to take a long voyage, nothing is better than to keep it a ſecret till the moment of your departure. Without this, you will be continually interrupted and tormented by viſits from friends and acquaintances, who not only make you loſe your valuable time, but make you forget a thouſand things which you wiſh to remember; ſo that when you are embarked, and fairly at ſea, you recollect, with much uneaſineſs, affairs which you have not terminated, accounts that you have not ſettled, and a number of things which you propoſed to carry with you, and which you find the want of every moment. Would it not be attended with the beſt conſequences to reform ſuch a cuſtom, and to ſuffer a traveller, without deranging him, to make his preparations in quietneſs, to let apart a few days, when theſe are finiſhed, to take leave of his friends, and to receive their good wiſhes for his happy return?
It is not always in one's power to chooſe a captain; though great part of the pleaſure and happineſs of the paſſage depends upon this choice, and though one muſt for a time be confined to his company, and be in ſome meaſure under his command. If he is a ſocial ſenſible man, obliging, and of a good diſpoſition, you will be ſo much the happier. One ſometimes meets with people of this deſcription, but they are not common; however, if yours be not of this number, if he be a good ſeaman, attentive, careful, and ​active in the management of his veſſel, you muſt diſpenſe with the reſt, for theſe are the moſt eſſential qualities.
Whatever right you may have, by your agreement with him, to the provisions he has taken on board for the uſe of the paſſengers, it is always proper to have ſome private ſtore, which you may make uſe of occaſionally. You ought therefore, to provide good water, that of the ſhip being often bad; but you muſt put it into bottles, without which you cannot expect to preſerve it ſweet. 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 poultry, it is almoſt uſeleſs to carry any with you, unleſs you reſolve to undertake the office of feeding and fattening them yourſelf. With the little care which is taken of them on board 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 themſelves by drinking beyond meaſure. In conſequence of this opinion, they give them water only once in two days, and even thew in ſmall quantities: but as they pour this water into troughs inclining on one ſide, which occaſions it to run to the lower part, it thence it happens that they are obliged to mount one upon the back of another in order to reach it; and there are ſome which cannot even dip their beaks in it. Thus continually tantalized and tormented by ​thirſt, they are unable to digeſt their food, which is very dry, and they ſoon fall ſick and die. Some of them are found thus every morning, and are thrown into the ſea; whilſt thoſe which are killed for the table are ſcarcely fit to be eaten. To remedy this inconvenience, it will be neceſſary to divide their troughs into ſmall compartments, in ſuch a manner that each of them may be capable of containing water; but this is ſeldom or never done. On this account, ſheep and hogs are to be conſidered as the beſt freſh proviſion that one can have at ea; mutton there being in general very good, and pork excellent.
It may happen that ſome of the proviſions and ſtores which I have recommended may become almoſt uſeleſs, by the care which the captain has taken to lay in a proper ſtock; but in ſuch a caſe you may diſpoſe of it to relieve the poor paſſengers, who, paying leſs for their paſſage, are ſtowed among the common ſailors, and have no right to the captain's proviſions, except ſuch part of them as is uſed for feeding the crew. Theſe paſſengers are ſometimes ſick, melancholy, and dejected; and there are often women and children among them, neither of whom have any opportunity of procuring thoſe things which I have mentioned, and of which, perhaps, they have the greateſt need. By diſtributing amongſt them a part of your ſuperfluity, you may be of the greateſt aſſiſtance to them. You may reſtore their health, ſave their lives, and in ſhort render them happy; which always affords the livelieſt ſenſation to a feeling mind.
The moſt diſagreeable thing at ſea is the cookery; for there is not, properly ſpeaking, any profeſſed cook on board. The worſt ſailor is generally choſen for that purpoſe, who for the moſt part is equally dirty. Hence comes the proverb ​uſed among the Engliſh ſailors, that God ſends meat, and the Devil ſends cooks. Thoſe, however, who have a better opinion of Providence, will think otherwiſe. Knowing that ſea air, and the exerciſe or motion which they receive from the rolling of the ſhip, have a wonderful effect in whetting the appetite, they will ſay, that Providence has given ſailors bad cooks to prevent them from eating too much; or that knowing they would have bad cooks, he has given them a good appetite to prevent them from dying with hunger. However, if you have no confidence in theſe ſuccours of Providence, you may yourſelf, with a lamp and a boiler, by the help of a little ſpirits of wine, prepare ſome food, ſuch as ſoup, ham, &c. A ſmall oven made of tin-plate is not a bad piece of furniture: your ſervant may roaſt in it a piece of mutton or pork. If you are ever tempted to eat ſalt beef, which is often very good, you will find that cyder is the beſt liquor to quench the thirſt generally cauſed by ſalt meat or ſalt fiſh. Sea-biſcuit, which is too hard for the teeth of ſome people, may be ſoftened by ſteeping it; but bread double baked is the beſt; for being made of good loaf-bred cut into ſlices, and baked a ſecond time, it readily imbibes water, becomes ſoft, and is eaſily digeſted: it conſequently forms excellent nouriſhment, much ſuperior to that of biſcuit, which has not been fermented.
I muſt here obſerve, that this double-baked bread was originally the real biſcuit prepared to keep at ſea; for the word biſcuit, in French, ſignifies twice baked. Peaſe often boil badly, and do not become ſoft; in ſuch a caſe, by putting a two-pound ſhot into the kettle, the rolling of the veſſel, by means of this bullet, will convert the peaſe into a kind of porridge, like muſtard.
​Having often ſeen ſoup, when put upon the table at ſea in broad flat diſhes, thrown out on every ſide by the rolling of the veſſel, I have wiſhed that our tin-men would make our ſoup-baſons with diviſions or compartments; forming fmall plates, proper, for containing ſoup for one perſon only. By this diſpoſition, the ſoup, in an extraordinary roll, would not be thrown out of the plate, and would not fall into the breads of thoſe who are at table, and ſcald them.—Having entertained you with theſe things of little importance, permit me now to conclude with ſome general reflections upon navigation.
When navigation is employed only for tranſporting neceſſary proviſions from one country, where they abound, to another where they are wanting; when by this it prevents famines which were ſo frequent and ſo fatal before it was invented and became ſo common; we cannot help conſidering it as one of thoſe arts which contribute moſt to the happineſs of mankind.—But when it is employed to tranſport things of no utility, or articles merely of luxury, it is uncertain whether the advantages reſulting from it are ſufficient to counterbalance the misfortunes it occaſions, by expoſing the lives of ſo many individuals upon the vaſt ocean. And when it is uſed to plunder veſſels and tranſport ſlaves, it is evidently only the dreadful means of increaſing thoſe calamities which afflict human nature.
One is aſtoniſhed to think on the number of veſſels and men who are daily expoſed in going to bring tea from China, coffee from Arabia, and ſugar and tobacco from America; all commodities which our anceſtors lived very well without. The ſugar trade employs nearly a thouſand veſſels; and that of tobacco almoſt the ſame ​number. With regard to the utility of tobacco, little can be ſaid; and, with regard to ſugar, how much more meritorious would it be to ſacrifice the momentary pleaſure which we receive from drinking it once or twice a-day in our tea, than to encourage the numberleſs cruelties that are continually exerciſed in order to procure it us?
A celebrated French moraliſt ſaid, that, when he conſidered the wars which we foment in Africa to get negroes, the great number who of courſe periſh in theſe wars, the multitude of thoſe wretches who die in their paſſage, by diſeaſe, bad air, and bad proviſions; and laſtly, how many periſh by the cruel treatment they meet with in a ſtate of ſlavery; when he ſaw a bit of ſugar, he could not help imagining it to be covered with, ſpots of human blood. But, had he added to theſe conſiderations the wars which we carry on againſt one another, to take and retake the iſlands that produce this commodity, he would not have ſeen the ſugar ſimply ſpotted with blood, he would have beheld it entirely tinged with it.
Theſe wars make the maritime powers of Europe, and the inhabitants of Paris and London, pay much dearer for their ſugar than thoſe of Vienna, though they are almoſt three hundred leagues diſtant from the ſea. A pound of ſugar, indeed, coſts the former not only the price which they give for it, but alſo what they pay in taxes, neceſſary to ſupport thoſe fleets and armies which ſerve to defend and protect the countries that produce it.
ON LUXURY, IDLENESS, AND INDUSTRY:
From a Letter to Benjamin Vaughan, Eſq. written in 1784.
IT is wonderful how prepoſterouſly the affairs of this world are managed. Naturally one would imagine, that the intereſt of a few individuals ſhould give way to general intereſt; but individuals manage their affairs with ſo much more application, induſtry, and addreſs, than the public do theirs, that general intereſt moſt commonly gives way to particular. We aſſemble parliaments and councils, to have the benefit of their collected wiſdom; but we neceſſarily have, at the ſame time, the inconvenience of their collected paſſions, prejudices, and private 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 aſſembly of great men is the greateſt fool upon earth.
I have not yet, indeed, thought of a remedy for luxury. I am not ſure that in a great ſtate it is capable of a remedy; nor that the evil is in itſelf always ſo great as it is repreſented. Suppoſe we include in the definition of luxury all unneceſſary expence, and then let us conſider whether laws to prevent ſuch expence are poſſible to be executed in a great country, and whether, ​if they could be executed, our people generally would be happier, or even richer. Is not the hope of being one day able to purchaſe and enjoy luxuries, a great ſpur to labour and induſtry? May not luxury therefore produce more than it conſumes, if, without ſuch a ſpur, people would be, as they are naturally enough inclined to be, lazy and indolent? To this purpoſe I remember a circumſtance. The ſkipper of a ſhallop, employed between Cape-May and Philadelphia, had done us ſome ſmall ſervice, for which he refuſed to be paid. My wife underſtanding that he had a daughter, ſent her a preſent of a new-faſhioned cap. Three years after, this ſkipper being at my houſe with an old farmer of Cape-May, his paſſenger, he mentioned the cap, and how much his daughter had been pleaſed with it. "But (ſaid he) it proved a dear cap to our congregation."—How ſo?—"When my daughter appeared with it at meeting, it was ſo much admired, that all the girls reſolved to get ſuch caps from Philadelphia; and my wife and I computed that the whole could not have coſt leſs than a hundred pounds."—"True (ſaid the farmer), but you do not tell all the ſtory. I think the cap was nevertheleſs an advantage to us for it was the firſt thing that put our girls upon knitting worſted mittens for ſale at Philadelphia, that they might have wherewithal to buy caps and ribbons there, and you know that that induſtry has continued, and is likely to continue and increaſe to a much greater value, and anſwer better purpoſes."—Upon the whole, I was more reconciled to this little piece of luxury, ſince not only the girls were made happier by having fine caps, but the Philadelphians by the ſupply of warm mittens.
​In our commercial towns upon the ſea-coaſt, fortunes will occaſionally be made. Some of thoſe who grow rich will be prudent, live within bounds, and preserve what they have gained for their poſterity: others, fond of ſhewing their wealth, will be extravagant, and ruin themſelves. Laws cannot prevent this: and perhaps it is not always an evil to the public. A ſhilling ſpent idly by a fool, may be picked up by a wiſer perſon, who knows better what to do with it. It is therefore not loſt. A vain, ſilly fellow builds a fine houſe, furniſhes it richly, lives in it expenſively, and in a few years ruins himſelf: but, maſons, carpenters, ſmiths, and other honeſt tradeſmen, have been by his employ aſſiſted in maintaining and raiſing their families; the farmer has been paid for his labour, and encouraged, and the eſtate is now in better hands.—In ſome caſes, indeed, certain modes of luxury may be a public evil, in the ſame manner as it is a private one. If there be a nation, for inſtance, that exports its beef and linen, to pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a great part of its people live upon potatoes, and wear no ſhirts; wherein does it differ from the ſot who lets his family ſtarve, and ſells his clothes to buy drink? Our American commerce is, I confeſs, a little in this way. We ſell our victuals to the iſlands for rum and ſugar; the ſubſtantial neceſſaries of life for ſuperfluities. But we have plenty, and live well nevertheleſs; though, by being ſoberer, we might be richer.
The vaſt quantity of foreſt land we have yet to clear, and put in order for cultivation, will for a long time keep the body of our nation laborious and frugal. Forming an opinion of our people and their manners, by what is ſeen among the inhabitants of the ſea-ports, is judging from ​an improper ſample. The people of the trading towns may be rich and luxurious, while the country poſſeſſes all the virtues that tend to promote happineſs and public proſperity. Thoſe towns are not much regarded by the country; they are hardly conſidered as an eſſential part of the States; and the experience of the laſt war has ſhewn, that their being in the poſſeſſion of the enemy did not neceſſarily draw on the ſubjection of the country; which bravely continued to maintain its freedom and independence notwithſtanding.
It has been computed by ſome political arithmetician, that if every man and woman would work for four hours each day on ſomething uſeful, that labour would produce ſufficient to procure all the neceſſaries and comforts of life; want and miſery would be baniſhed out of the world, and the reſt of the twenty-four hours might be leiſure and pleaſure.
What occaſions then ſo much want and miſery? It is the employment of men and women in works that produce neither the neceſſaries nor conveniences of life, who, with thoſe who do nothing, conſume neceſſaries raiſed by the laborious. To explain this:
The firſt elements of wealth are obtained by labour, from the earth and waters. I have land, and raiſe corn. With this, if I feed a family that does nothing, my corn will be conſumed, and at the end of the year I ſhall be no richer than I was at the beginning. But if, while I feed them, I employ them, ſome in ſpinning, others in making bricks, &c. for building, the value of my corn will be arreſted and remain with me, and at the end of the year we may all be better clothed and better lodged. And if, inſtead of employing a man I feed in making ​bricks, I employ him in fiddling for me, the corn he eats is gone, and no part of his manufacture remains to augment the wealth and convenience of the family: I ſhall therefore be the poorer for this fiddling man, unleſs the reſt of my family work more, or eat leſs, to make up the deficiency he occaſions.
Look round the world, and ſee the millions employed in doing nothing, or in ſomething that amounts to nothing, when the neceſſaries and conveniences of life are in queſtion. What is the bulk of commerce, for which we fight and deſtroy each other, but the toil of millions for ſuperfluities, to the great hazard and loſs of many lives, by the conſtant dangers of the ſea? How much labour is ſpent in building and fitting great ſhips, to go to China and Arabia for tea and coffee, to the Weſt Indies for ſugar, to America for tobacco? Theſe things cannot be called the neceſſaries of life, for our anceſtors lived very comfortably without them.
A queſtion may be aſked: Could all theſe people now employed in raiſing, making, or carrying ſuperfluities, be ſubſiſted by raiſing neceſſaries? I think they might. The world is large, and a great part of it ſtill uncultivated. Many hundred millions of acres in Aſia, Africa and America, are ſtill in a foreſt; and a great deal even in Europe. On a hundred acres of this foreſt a man might become a ſubſtantial farmer; and a hundred thouſand men employed in clearing each his hundred acres, would hardly brighten a ſpot big enough to be viſible from the moon, unleſs with Herſchel’s teleſcope; ſo vaſt are the regions ſtill in wood.
It is however ſome comfort to reflect, that, upon the whole, the quantity of induſtry and prudence among mankind exceeds the quantity ​of idleneſs and folly. Hence the increaſe of good buildings, farms cultivated, and populous cities filled with wealth, all over Europe, which a few ages ſince were only to be found on the coaſts of the Mediterranean; and this notwithstanding the mad wars continually raging, by which are often deſtroyed in one year the works of many years peace. So that we may hope, the luxury of a few merchants on the 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 expence. The feet demand ihoes; the legs ſtockings; the reſt of the body clothing; and the belly a good deal of victuals. Our eyes, though exceedingly uſeful, aſk when reaſonable, only the cheap aſſiſtance of ſpectacles, which could not much impair our finances. But the eyes of 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.
ON THE SLAVE TRADE.
READING in the newſpapers the ſpeech of Mr. Jackſon in congreſs, againſt meddling with the affair of ſlavery, or attempting to mend the condition of ſlaves, it put me in mind of a ſimilar ſpeech, made about one hundred years ſince, by Sidi Mehemet Ibrahim, a member of the Divan of Algiers, which may be ſeen in Martin's account of his conſulſhip, 1687. It was againſt granting the petition of the ſect called Erika, or Puriſts, who prayed for the abolition of piracy and ſlavery as being unjuſt.—Mr. Jackſon does not quote it; perhaps he has not een it. If, therefore, ſome of its reaſonings are to be found in his eloquent ſpeech, it may only ſhew that men's intereſts operate, and are operated on, with ſurpriſing ſimilarity, in all countries and climates, whenever they are under ſimilar circumſtances. The African ſpeech, as tranſlated, is as follows:
"Alla Biſmillah, &c. God is great, and Mahomet is his prophet.
"Have theſe Erika conſidered the conſequences of granting their petition? If we ceaſe our cruiſes againſt the Chriſtians, how ſhall we be furniſhed with the commodities their countries produce, and which are ſo neceſſary for us? If we forbear to make ſlaves of their people, who, in this hot climate, are to cultivate our lands? Who are to perform the common labours of our city, and of our families? Muſt we not then be our own ſlaves? And is there not more compaſſion and more favour due to us Muſſulmen, than to thoſe Chriſtian dogs?—We have now above fifty thouſand ſlaves in and near Algiers. This ​kept up by freſh ſupplies, will ſoon diminiſh, and be gradually annihilated. If, then, we ceaſe taking and plundering the infidel ſhips, and making ſlaves of the ſeamen and paſſengers, our lands will become of no value, for want of cultivation; the rents of houſes in the city will ſink one half; and the revenues of government, ariſing from the ſhare of prizes, muſt be totally deſtroyed.—And for what? To gratify the whim of a whimſical ſect, who would have us not only forbear making more ſlaves, but even manumit thoſe we have. But who is to indemnify their maſters for the loſs? Will the ſtate do it; Is our treaſury ſufficient? Will the Erika do it? Can they do it? Or would they, to do what they think juſtice to the ſlaves, do a greater injuſtice to the owners? And if we ſet our ſlaves free, what is to be done with them? Few of them will return to their native countries; they know too well the greater hardships they muſt there be ſubject to. They will not embrace our holy religion: they will not adopt our manners: our people will not pollute themſelves by intermarrying with them. Muſt we maintain them as beggars in our ſtreets? or ſuffer our properties to be the prey of their pillage? for men accuſtomed to ſlavery will not work for a livelihood, when not compelled.—And what is there ſo pitiable in their preſent condition? Were they not ſlaves in their own countries? Are not Spain, Portugal, France, and the Italian ſtates, governed by deſpots, who hold all their ſubjects in ſlavery, without exception? 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 Iſlamiſm gives forth its light, and ſhines in full ſplendour, and they have an opportunity of making themſelves acquainted with the true doctrine, and thereby ſaving their immortal ſouls. Thoſe who remain at home, have not that happineſs. Sending the ſlaves home, then, would be fending them out of light into darkneſs.
"I repeat the queſtion, what is to be done with them? I have heard it ſuggeſted, that they may be planted in the wilderneſs, where there is plenty of land for them to ſubſiſt on, and where they may flouriſh as a free ſtate.—But they are, I doubt, too little diſpoſed to labour without compulſion, as well as too ignorant to eſtabliſh good government: and the wild Arabs would ſoon moleſt and deſtroy, or again enſlave them. While ſerving us, we take care to provide them with every thing; and they are treated with humanity. The labourers in their own countries are, as I am informed, worſe fed, lodged, and clothed. The condition of moſt of them is therefore already mended, and requires no farther improvement. Here their lives are in ſafety. They are not liable to be impreſſed for ſoldiers, and forced to cut one another's Chriſtian throats, as in the wars of their own countries. If ſome of the religious mad bigots, who now teaſe us with their ſilly petitions, have, in a fit of blind zeal, freed their ſlaves, it was not generoſity, it was not humanity that moved them to the action; it was from the conſcious burthen of a load of ſins, and hope, from the ſuppoſed merits of ſo good a work, to be excuſed from damnation—How groſsly are they miſtaken, in ​imagining ſlavery to be diſavowed by the Alcoran! Are not the two precepts, to quote no more, "Maſters, treat your ſlaves with kindneſs—Slaves, ſerve your maſters with cheerfulneſs and fidelity," clear proofs to the contrary? Nor can the plundering of 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 it. Let us then hear no more of this deteſtable propoſition, the manumiſſion of Chriſtian Haves, the adoption of which would, by depreciating our lands and houſes, and thereby depriving ſo many good citizens of their properties, create univerſal diſcontent, and provoke inſurrections, to the endangering of government, and producing general confuſion. I have, therefore, no doubt that this wiſe council will prefer the comfort and happineſs of a whole nation of true believers, to the whim of a few Erika, and diſmiſs their petition."
The reſult was, as Martin tells us, that the Divan came to this reſolution: "That the doctrine, that the plundering and enſlaving the Chriſtians is unjuſt, is at beſt problematical; but that it is the intereſt of this ſtate to continue the practice, is clear; therefore, let the petition be rejected."——And it was rejected accordingly.
And ſince like motives are apt to produce, in the minds of men, like opinions and reſolutions, may we not venture to predict, from this account, that the petitions to the parliament of England for aboliſhing the ſlave trade, to ſay nothing of other legiſlatures, and the debates upon them, will have a ſimilar concluſion.
HISTORICUS.
March 13, 1790.
OBSERVATIONS ON WAR.
BY the original law of nations, war and extirpation were the puniſhment of injury. Humanizing by degrees, it admitted ſlavery inſtead of death: a farther ſtep was, the exchange of priſoners inſtead of ſlavery: another, to reſpect more the property of private 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 increaſes rapidly, why ſhould not thoſe ſteps be quickened? Why ſhould it not be agreed to, as the future law of nations, 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 ſecurity? viz.
1 . Cultivators of the earth, becauſe they labour for the ſubſiſtence of mankind.
2. Fiſhermen, for the ſame reaſon.
3. Merchants and traders in unarmed ſhips, who accommodate different nations by communicating and exchanging the neceſſaries and conveniencies of life.
4. Artiſts and mechanics, inhabiting and working in open towns.
It is hardly neceſſary to add, that the hoſpitals of enemies ſhould be unmoleſted—they aught to be aſſiſted. It is for the intereſt of humanity in general, that the occaſions of war, and the inducements to it, ſhould be diminiſhed. If rapine be abolished, one of the encouragements to war is taken away; and peace therefore more likely to continue and be laſting.
​The practice of robbing merchants on the high ſeas—a remnant of the antient piracy—though it may be accidentally beneficial to particular perſons, is far from being profitable to all engaged in it, or to the nation that authoriſes it. In the beginning of a war ſome rich ſhips are ſurprized and taken. This encourages the firſt adventurers to fit out more armed veſſels; and many others to do the ſame. But the enemy at the ſame time become more careful; arm their merchant ſhips better, and render them not ſo eaſy to be taken: they go alſo more under the protection of convoys. Thus* while the privateers to take them are multiplied, the veſſels ſubject to be taken, and the chances of profit, are diminiſhed; ſo that many cruiſes are made wherein the expences overgo the gains; and, as is the caſe in other lotteries, though particulars have got prizes, the maſs of adventurers are loſers, the whole expence of fitting out all the privateers during a war being much greater than the whole amount of goods taken.
Then there is the national loſs of all the labour of ſo many men during the time they have been employed in robbing; who beſides ſpend what they get in riot, drunkenneſs, 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 houſebreakers. Even the undertakers who have been fortunate, are, by ſudden wealth, led into expenſive living, the habit of which continues when the means of ſupporting it ceaſe, and finally ruins them: a juſt puniſhment for their having wantonly and unfeelingly ruined many honeſt, innocent traders and their families, whoſe ſubſtance was employed in ſerving the common intereſt of mankind.
ON THE IMPRESS OF SEAMEN.
JUDGE Foſter, p. 158. "Every Man."—The concluſion here from the whole to a part does not ſeem to be good logic. If the alphabet ſhould ſay, Let us all fight for the defence of the whole; that is equal, and may. therefore, be juft. But if they ſhould ſay, Let A B C and D go out and fight for us, while we ſtay at home and ſleep in whole ſkins; that is not equal, and therefore cannot be juſt.
Ib. "Employ."—If you pleaſe. The word ſignifies engaging a man to work for me, by of- fering him fuch wages as are fufficient to induce him to prefer my fervice. This is very different from compelling him to work on fuch terms as I think proper. Ib. "This ſervice and employment, &c."—Theſe are falſe facts. His employments and ſervice are not the ſame.—Under the merchant he goes in an unarmed veſſel, not obliged to fight, but to tranſport merchandize. In the king's ſervice he is obliged to fight, and to hazard all the dangers of battle. Sickneſs on board of king's ſhips is alſo more common and more mortal. The merchant's ſervice too he can quit at the end of the voyage; not the king's. Alſo, the merchant's wages are much higher.
​Ib. "I am very ſenſible, &c"—Here are two things put in compariſon that are not comparable: viz. injury to ſeamen, and inconvenience to trade. Inconvenience to the whole trade of a nation will not juſtify injuſtice to a ſingle ſea-man. If the trade would ſuffer without his ſervice, it is able and ought to be willing to offer him ſuch wages as may induce him to afford his ſervice voluntarily.
Page 159. "Private miſchief muſt be borne with patience, for preventing a national calamity." Where is this maxim in law and good policy to be found? And how can that be a maxim which is not conſiſtent with common ſenſe? If the maxim had been, that private miſchiefs, which prevent a national calamity, ought to be generouſly compenſated by the nation, one might underſtand itſ: but that ſuch private miſchiefs are only to be borne with patience, is abſurd!
Ib. "The expedient, &c. And, &c." (Paragraphs 2 and 3).—Twenty ineffectual or inconvenient ſchemes will not juſtify one that is unjuſt.
Ib. "Upon the foot of, &c."—Your reaſoning, indeed, like a lie, ſtands but upon one foot; truth upon two.
Page 160. "Full wages."—Probably the ſame they had in the merchant's fervice.
Page 174. "I hardly admit, &c." (Paragraph 5).—When this author ſpeaks of impreſſing, page 158, he diminiſhes the horror of the practice as much as poſſible, by preſenting to the mind one ſailor only ſuffering a "hardſhip" (as he tenderly calls it) in ſome "particular caſes" only; and he places againſt this private miſchief the inconvenience to the trade of the kingdom. But if, as he ſuppoſes is often the caſe, the ſailor who is preſſed, and obliged to ſerve for the defence of trade, at the rate of twenty-five ſhillings a month, ​could get three pounds fifteen ſhillings in the merchant's ſervice, you take from him fifty ſhillings a month; and if you have a 100,000 in your ſervice, you rob this honeſt induſtrious part of ſociety and their poor families of 250,000l. per month, or three millions a year, and at the ſame time oblige them to hazard their lives in fighting for the defence of your trade; to the defence of which all ought indeed to contribute (and ſailors among the reſt) in proportion to their profits by it; but this three millions is more than their ſhare, if they did not pay with their perſons; but when you force that, methinks you ſhould excuſe the other.
But it may be ſaid, to give the king's ſeamen merchant's wages would coſt the nation too much, and call for more taxes. The queſtion then will amount to this: whether it be juſt in a community, that the richer part ſhould compel the poorer to fight in defence of them and their properties, for ſuch wages as they think fit to allow, and puniſh them if they refuſe? Our author tells us that it is "legal." I have not law enough to diſpute his authorities, but I cannot perſuade myſelf that it is equitable. I willy however, own for the preſent, that it may be lawful when neceſſary; but then I contend that it may be uſed ſo as to produce the ſame good effects—the public ſecurity,—without doing ſo much intolerable injuſtice as attends the impreſſing common ſeamen. In order to be better underſtood I would premiſe two things; Firſt, that voluntary ſeamen may be had for the ſervice, if they were ſufficiently paid. The proof is, that to ſerve in the ſame ſhip, and incur the ſame dangers, you have no occaſion to impreſs captains, lieutenants, ſecond lieutenants, midſhipmen, purſers, nor many other officers. Why, but that the profits of ​their places, or the emoluments expected, are ſufficient inducements? The buſineſs then is, to find money, by impreſſing, ſufficient to make the ſailors all volunteers, as well as their officers; and this without any freſh burthen upon trade.—The ſecond of my premiſes is, that twenty-five ſhillings a month, with his ſhare of the ſalt beef, pork, and peas-pudding, being found ſufficient for the ſubſiſtence of a hard-working ſeaman, it will certainly be ſo for a ſedentary ſcholar or gentleman. I would then propoſe to form a treaſury, out of which encouragements to ſeamen ſhould be paid. To fill this treaſury, I would impreſs a number of civil officers who at preſent have great ſalaries, oblige them to ſerve in their reſpective offices for twenty-five millings a month with their ſhares of meſs proviſions, and throw the reſt of their ſalaries into the ſeamen's treaſury. If ſuch a preſs-warrant were given me to execute, the firſt I would preſs ſhould be a Recorder of Briſtol, or a Mr. Juſtice Foſter, becauſe I might have need of his edifying example, to ſhow how much impreſſing ought to be borne with; for he would certaily find, that though to be reduced to twenty-five ſhillings a month might be a "private miſchief" yet that, agreeably to his maxim of law and good policy, it "ought to be borne with patience" for preventing a national calamity. Then I would preſs the reſt of the Judges; and, opening the red book, I would preſs every civil officer of government from 50l. a year ſalary, up to 50,000l. which would throw an immenfe ſum into our treaſury: and theſe gentlemen could not complain, ſince they would receive twenty-five ſhillings a month, and their rations: and this without being obliged to fight. Laſtly, I think I would impreſs ***
ON THE CRIMINAL LAWS, AND THE PRACTICE OF PRIVATEERING.
LETTER TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ.
March 14th, 1785.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
AMONG the pamphlets you lately ſent me, was one, entitled, Thoughts on Executive Juſtice. In return for that, I ſend you a French one on the fame ſubject, Obſervations concernant l'Exécution de l’Article II. de la Declaration fur le Vol. They are both addreſſed to the judges, but written, as you will ſee, in a very different ſpirit. The Engliſh author is for hanging all thieves. The Frenchman is for proportioning puniſhments to offences.
If we really believe, as we profeſs to believe, that the law of Moſes was the law of God, the dictate of divine wiſdom, infinitely ſuperior to human; on what principles do we ordain death as the puniſhment of an offence, which, according to that law, was only to be puniſhed by a reſtitution of fourfold? To put a man to death for an offence which does not deſerve death, is it not a murder? And, as the French writer ſays, Doit-on punir un dlit contre la ſocieté par un crime contre la nature?
Superfluous property is the creature of ſociety; Simple and mild laws were ſufficient to guard the property that was merely neceſſary. The ſavage's bow, his hatchet, and his coat of ſkins, were ſufficiently ſecured, without law, by the fear of perſonal reſentment and retaliation. When, by virtue of the firſt laws, part of the ſociety ​accumulated wealth and grew powerful, they enacted others more ſevere, and would protect their property at the expence of humanity. This was abuſing their power, and commencing a tyranny. If a ſavage, before he entered into ſociety, had been told—"Your neighbour, by this means, may become owner of an hundred deer; but if your brother, or your ſon, or yourſelf, having no deer of your own, and being hungry, ſhould kill one, an infamous death muſt be the conſequence:" he would probably have preferred his liberty, and his common right of killing any deer, to all the advantages of ſociety that might be propoſed to him.
That it is better a hundred guilty perſons ſhould eſcape, than that one innocent perſon ſhould ſuffer, is a maxim that has been long and generally approved; never, that I know of, controverted. Even the ſanguinary author of the Thoughts agrees to it, adding well, " that the very thought of injured innocence, and much more that of ſuffering innocence, muſt awaken all our tendereſt and moſt compaſſionate feelings, and at the ſame time raiſe our higheſt indignation againſt the inſtruments of it. But," he adds, "there is no danger of either, from a ſtrict adherence to the laws."—Really!—Is it then impoſſible to make an unjuſt law? and if the law itſelf be unjuſt, may it not be the very "inſtrument" 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 capitally convicted at the Old Bailey, for privately ſtealing out of a ſhop ſome gauze, value fourteen ſhillings and three-pence: Is there any proportion between the injury done by a theft, value fourteen ſhillings and three-pence, and the puniſhment of a human creature, by death, on a gibbet? ​Might not that woman, by her labour, have made the reparation ordained by God, in paying 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 almoft all the civilized ſtates of Europe!
But it ſeems to have been thought, that this kind of innocence may be puniſhed by way of preventing crimes. I have read, indeed, of a cruel Turk in Barbary, who, whenever he bought a new Chriſtian ſlave, ordered him immediately to be hung up by the legs, and to receive a hundred blows of a cudgel on the ſoles of his feet, that the ſevere ſenſe of the puniſhment, and fear of incurring it thereafter, might prevent the faults that ſhould merit it. Our author himſelf would hardly approve entirely of this Turk's conduct in the government of ſlaves; and yet he appears to recommend ſomething like it for the government of Engliſh ſubjects, when he applauds the reply of Judge 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 ſtealing a horſe, was told by the judge, "Man, thou are not to be hanged only for ſtealing a horſe, but that horſes may not be ſtolen." The man's anſwer, if candidly examined, will, I imagine, appear reaſonable, as being founded on the eternal principle of juſtice and equity, that puniſhments ſhould be proportioned to offences; and the judge's reply brutal and unreaſonable, though the writer "wiſhes all judges to carry it with them whenever they go the circuit, and to bear it in their minds, as containing a wiſe reaſon for all the penal ſtatutes which they are called upon to put in execution. It at once illuſtrates," ſays ​he, "the true grounds and reaſons of all capital puniſhments whatſoever, namely, that every man's property, as well as his life, may beheld ſacred and inviolate." Is there then no difference in value between property and life? If I think it right that the crime of murder ſhould be puniſhed with death, not only as an equal puniſhment of the crime, but to prevent other murders, does it follow that I muſt approve of inflicting the ſame puniſhment for a little invaſion on my property by theft? If I am not myſelf ſo barbarous, ſo bloody-minded, and revengeful, as to kill a fellow-creature for ſtealing from me fourteen ſhillings and three-pence, how can I approve of a law that does it? Monteſquieu, who was himſelf a judge, endeavours to impreſs other maxims. He muſt have known what humane judges feel on ſuch occaſions, and what the effects of thoſe feelings; and, ſo far from thinking that ſevere and exceſſive puniſhments prevent crimes, he aſſerts, as quoted by our French writer, that
"L’atrocité des loix en empéche l’exécution.
"Lorſque la peìne eſt ſans meſure, on eſt ſouvent obligé de lui préférer l’impunité.
"La cauſe de tous les relâchemens vient de l'impunité des crimes, et non de la modération des peines"
It is laid by thoſe who know Europe generally, that there are more thefts committed and puniſhed annually in England, than in all the other nations put together. If this be ſo, there muſt be a cauſe or cauſes for ſuch depravity in our common people. May not one be the deficiency of juſtice and morality in our national government, manifeſted in bur oppreſſive conduct to ſubjects, and unjuſt wars on our neighbours? View the long-perſiſted in, unjuſt, monopolizing treatment of Ireland, at length acknowledged! 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 immenſe and eaſy prey being its only apparent, and probably its true and real motive and encouragement. Juſtice is as ſtrictly due between neighbour nations as between neighbour citizens. A highway-man 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 employing your people in robbing the Dutch, "is it ſtrange that, being put out of that employ by peace, they ſtill continue robbing, and rob one another? Piraterie, as the French call it, or privateering, is the univerſal bent of the Engliſh nation, at home and abroad, wherever ſettled. No leſs than ſeven hundred privateers were, it is ſaid, commiſſioned in the laſt war! Theſe were fitted out by merchants, to prey upon other merchants, who had never done them any injury. Is there probably any one of thoſe privateering merchants of London, who were ſo ready to rob the merchants of Amſterdam, that would not as readily plunder another London merchant of the next ſtreet, if he could do it with the ſame impunity! The avidity, the alieni appetens is the ſame; it is the fear alone of the gallows that makes the difference. How then can a nation, which, among the honeſteſt of its people, has ſo many thieves by inclination, and whoſe government encouraged and commiſſioned no leſs than ſeven hundred gangs of robbers; how can ſuch a nation have the face to condemn the crime in individuals, and hang up twenty of them in a morning! It ​naturally puts one in mind of a Newgate anecdote. One of the priſoners complained, that in the night ſomebody had taken his buckles out of his ſhoes. "What the devil!" ſays another, "have we then thieves amongſt us? It muſt not be ſuffered. Let us ſearch out the rogue, and pump him to death."
There is, however, one late inſtance of an Engliſh merchant who will net profit by ſuch ill-gotten gain. He was, it ſeems, part-owner of a ſhip, which the other owners thought fit to employ as a letter of marque, and which took a number of French prizes. The booty being ſhared, he has now an agent here enquiring, by an advertiſement in the Gazette, for thoſe who ſuffered the loſs, in order to make them, as far as in him lies, reſtitution. This conſcientious man is a quaker. The Scotch preſbyterians were formerly as tender; for there is ſtill extant an ordinance of the town-council of Edinburgh, made ſoon after the Reformation, "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 practice of making prizes being contrary to good conſcience, and the rule of treating Chriſtian brethren as we would wiſh to be treated
and ſuch goods are not to be ſold by any godly men within this burgh." The race of theſe godly men in Scotland is, probably extinct, or their principles are abandoned ſince, as far as that nation had a hand in promoting the war againſt the colonies, prizes and confiſcations are believed to have been a conſiderable motive.
It has been for ſome time a generally-received opinion, that a military man is not to enquire whether a war be juſt or unjuſt; he is to execute his orders. All princes who are diſpoſed to ​become tyrants, muſt probably approve of this opinion, and be willing to eſtabliſh it; but is it not a dangerous one? ſince, on that principle, if the tyrant commands his army to attack and deſtroy, not only an unoffending neighbour nation, but even his own ſubjects, the army is bound to obey. A negro ſlave, in our colonies, being commanded by his maſter to rob or murder a neighbour, or do any other immoral act, may refuſe; and the magiſtrate will protect him in his refuſal. The ſlavery then of a ſoldier is worſe than that of a negro! A conſcientious officer, if not reſtrained by the apprehenſion of its being imputed 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 themſelves. We can only lament their fate, and ſtill more that of a ſailor, who is often dragged by force from his honeſt occupation, and compelled to imbrue his hands in perhaps innocent blood. But methinks it well behoves merchants (men more enlightened by their education, and perfectly free from any ſuch force or obligation) to conſider well of the juſtice of a war, before they voluntarily engage a gang of ruffians to attack their fellow-merchants of a neighbouring nation, to plunder them of their property, and perhaps ruin them and their families, if they yield it; or to wound, maim, and murder them, if they endeavour to defend it. Yet theſe things are done by Chriſtian merchants, whether a war be juſt or unjuſt; and it can hardly be juſt on both ſides. They are done by Engliſh and American merchants, who, nevertheleſs, complain of private theft, and hang by dozens the thieves they have taught by their own example.
​It is high time, for the ſake of humanity, that a ſtop were put to this enormity. The United States of America, though better ſituated than any European nation to make profit by privateering (moſt of the trade of Europe, with the Weſt Indies, paſſing before their doors), are, as far as in them lies, endeavouring to aboliſh the practice, by offering, in all their treaties with other powers, an article, engaging ſolemnly, that, in caſe of future war, no privateer ſhall be commiſſioned on either ſide; and that unarmed merchant-ſhips, on both ſides, ſhall purſue their voyages unmoleſted. This will be a happy improvement of the ​law of nations. The humane and the juſt cannot but wiſh general ſucceſs to the propoſition.
With unchangeable eſteem and affection,
I am, my dear friend,
Ever yours.
REMARKS CONCERNING THE SAVAGES OF NORTH-AMERICA.
SAVAGES we call them, becauſe their manners differ from ours, which we think the perfection of civility; they think the ſame of theirs.
Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we ſhould find no people ſo rude as to be without any rules of politeneſs; nor any ſo polite as not to have ſome remains of rudeneſs.
The Indian men, when young, are hunters and warriors; when old, counſellors; for all their government is by the counſel or advice of the ſages; there is no force, there are no priſons, no officers to compel obedience, or inflict puniſhment. Hence they generally ſtudy oratory; the beſt ſpeaker having the moſt influence. The Indian women till the ground, dreſs the food, nurſe and bring up the children, and preſerve and hand down to poſterity the memory of public tranſactions. Theſe employments of men and women are accounted natural and honourable. Having few artificial wants, they have abundance of leiſure for improvement by converſation. Our laborious manner of life, compared with theirs, they eſteem ſlaviſh and baſe; and the learning on which we value ourſelves, they regard as frivolous and uſeleſs. An inſtance of this occurred at the treaty of Lancaſter, in Pennſylvania, anno 1744, between the government of Virginia and the Six Nations. After the principal buſineſs was ſettled, the commiſſioners from Virginia acquainted the Indians by a ſpeech, that there was at ​Williamſburg a college, with a fund, for educating Indian youth; and that if the chiefs of the Six Nations would ſend down half a dozen of their ſons to that college, the government would take care that they ſhould be well provided for, and inſtructed in all the learning of the white people. It is one of the Indian rules of politeneſs not to anſwer a public propoſition the ſame day that it is made; they think it would be treating it as a light matter; and that they ſhew it reſpect by taking time to conſider it, as of a matter important. They therefore deferred their anſwer till the day following; when their ſpeaker began, by expreſſing their deep ſenſe of the kindneſs of the Virginia government, in making them that offer; "for we know," ſays he, "that you highly eſteem the kind of learning taught in thoſe colleges, and that the maintenance of our young men, while with you, would be very expenſive to you. We are convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us good by your propoſal; and we thank you heartily. But you who are wiſe muſt know, that different nations have different conceptions of things
and you will therefore not take it amiſs, if our ideas of this kind of education happen not to be the fame with yours. We have had ſome experience of it: ſeveral of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces; they were inſtructed in all your ſciences; but when they came back to us, they were bad runners; ignorant of every means of living in the woods; unable to bear either cold or hunger; knew neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill an enemy; ſpoke our language imperfectly; were therefore neither fit for hunters, warriors, or counſellers; they were totally good for nothing. ​We are however not the leſs obliged by your kind offer, though we decline accepting it; and to ſhow our grateful ſenſe of it, if the gentlemen of Virginia will ſend us a dozen of their ſons, we will take great care of their education, inſtruct them in all we know, and make men of them."
Having frequent occaſions to hold public councils, they have acquired great order and decency in conducing them. The old men fit in the foremoſt ranks, the warriors in the next, and the women and children in the hindmoſt. The buſineſs of the women is to take exact notice of what paſſes, imprint it in their memories, for they have no writing, and communicate it to their children. They are the records of the council, and they preſerve tradition of the ſtipulations in treaties a hundred years back; which, when we compare with our writings, we always find exact. He that would ſpeak, riſes. The reſt obſerve a profound ſilence. When he has finiſhed, and ſits down, they leave him five or ſix minutes to recollect, that, if he has omitted any thing he intended to ſay, or has any thing to add, he may riſe again and deliver it. To interrupt another, even in common converſation, is reckoned highly indecent. How different this is from the conduct of a polite Britiſh Houſe of Commons, where ſcarce a day paſſes without ſome confuſion, that makes the ſpeaker hoarſe in calling to order; and how different from the mode of converſation in many polite companies of Europe, where, if you do not deliver your ſentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in the middle of it by the impatient loquacity of thoſe you converſe with, and never ſuffered to finiſh it!
The politeneſs of theſe ſavages in converſation, is, indeed, carried to exceſs; ſince it does not ​permit them to contradict or deny the truth of what is aſſerted in their preſence. By this means they indeed avoid diſputes; but then it becomes difficult to know their minds, or what impreſſion you make upon them. The miſſionaries who have attempted to convert them to Chriſtianity, all complain of this as one of the great difficulties of their miſſion. The Indians hear with patience the truths of the goſpel explained to them, and give their uſual tokens of aſſent and approbation: you would think they were convinced. No ſuch matter. It is mere civility.
A Swediſh miniſter having aſſembled the chiefs of the Saſquehannah Indians, made a ſermon to them, acquainting them with the principal hiſtorical facts on which our religion is founded; ſuch as the fall of our firſt parents by eating an apple; the coming of Chriſt to repair the miſchief; his miracles and ſuffering, &c.—— When he had finiſhed, an Indian orator ſtood up to thank him. "What you have told us," ſays he, "is all very good. It is indeed bad to eat apples. It is better to make them all into cyder. We are much obliged by your kindneſs in coming ſo far, to tell us thoſe things which you have heard from your mothers. In return, I will tell you ſome of thoſe we have heard from ours.
"In the beginning, our fathers had only the fleſh of animals to ſubſiſt on; and if their hunting was unſucceſsful, they were ſtarving. Two of our young hunters having killed a deer, made a fire in the woods to broil ſome parts of it. When they were about to ſatisfy their hunger, they beheld a beautiful young woman deſcend from the clouds, and ſeat herſelf on that hill which you ſee yonder among the Blue Mountains. They ſaid to each other, it is a ​ſpirit that perhaps has ſmelt our broiling veniſon, and wiſhes to eat of it: let us offer ſome to her. They preſented her with the tongue: ſee was pleaſed with the taſte of it, and ſaid, Your kindneſs ſhall be rewarded. Come to this place after thirteen moons, and you ſhall find ſomething that will be of great benefit in nouriſhing you and your children to the lateſt generations. They did ſo, and to their ſurpriſe, found plants they had never ſeen before; but which, from that ancient time, have been conſtantly cultivated among us, to our great advantage. Where her right hand had touched the ground, they found maize; where her left hand had touched it they found kidney-beans; and where her backſide had ſat on it, they found tobacco." The good miſſionary, diſguſted with this idle tale, ſaid, "What I delivered to you were ſacred truths; but what you tell me is mere fable, fiction, and falſehood." The Indian, offended, replied, "My brother, it ſeems your friends have not done you juſtice in your education; they have not well inſtructed you in the rules of common civility. You ſaw that we, who underſtand and practiſe thoſe rules, believed all your ſtories, why do you refuſe to believe ours?"
When any of them come into our towns, our people are apt to crowd round them, gaze upon them, and incommode them where they deſire to be private; this they eſteem great rudeneſs, and the effect of the want of inſtruction in the rules of civility and good manners. "We have" ſay they, "as much curioſity as you, and when you come into our towns, we wiſh for opportunities of looking at you; but for this purpoſe we hide ourſelves behind buſhes where you are to ​paſs, and never intrude ourſelves into company."
Their manner of entering one another's villages has likewiſe its rules. It is reckoned uncivil in travelling ſtrangers to enter a village abruptly, without giving notice of their approach. Therefore, as ſoon as they arrive within hearing, they ſtop and hollow, remaining there till invited to enter. Two old men uſually come out to them, and lead them in. There is in every village a vacant dwelling, called the ſtranger's houſe. Here they are placed, while the old men go round from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants that ſtrangers are arrived, who are probably hungry and weary; and every one ſends them what he can ſpare of victuals, and ſkins to repoſe on. When the ſtrangers are refreſhed, pipes and tobacco are brought; and then, but not before, converſation begins, with enquiries who they are, whither bound, what news, &c. and it uſually ends with offers of ſervice; if the ſtrangers have occaſion of guides, or any neceſſaries for continuing their journey; and nothing is exacted for the entertainment.
The ſame hoſpitality, eſteemed among them as a principal virtue, is practiſed by private perſons; of which Conrad Weiſer, our interpreter, gave me the following inſtance. He had been naturalized among the Six Nations, and ſpoke well the Mohuck. language. In going through the Indian country, to carry a meſſage from our govenor to the council at Onondaga, he called at the habitation of Canaſſetego, an old acquaintance, who embraced him, ſpread furs for him to ſit on, placed before him ſome boiled beans and veniſon, and mixed ſome rum and water for his drink. When he was well refreſhed, and had lit his pipe, Canaſſetego began to converſe with him: aſked ​how he had fared the many years ſince they had ſeen each other, whence he then came, what occafioned the journey, &c. Conrad anſwered all his queſtions; and when the diſcourſe began to flag, the Indian, to continue it, ſaid, "Conrad, you have lived long among the white people, and know ſomething of their cuſtoms; I have been ſometimes at Albany, and have obſerved, that once in ſeven days they ſhut up their ſhops, and aſſemble all in the great houſe; tell me what it is for? What do they do there?" "They meet there," ſays Conrad, "to hear and learn good things." "I do not doubt," ſays the Indian, "that they tell you ſo; they have told me the ſame: but I doubt the truth of what they ſay, and I will tell you my reaſons. I went lately to Albany to ſell my ſkins and buy blankets, knives, powder, rum, &c. You know I uſed generally to deal with Hans Hanſon; but I was a little inclined this time to try ſome other merchants. However, I called firſt upon Hans, and aſked him what he would give for beaver. He ſaid he could not give more than four ſhillings a pound: but, ſays he, I cannot talk on buſineſs now; this is the day when we meet together to learn good things, and I am going to the meeting. So I thought to myſelf, ſince I cannot do any buſineſs to-day, I may as well go to the meeting too, and I went with him. There ſtood up a man in black, and began to talk to the people very angrily. I did not underſtand what he ſaid; but perceiving that he looked much at me, and at Hanſon, I imagined he was angry at ſeeing me there; ſo I went out, ſat down near the houſe, ſtruck fire, and lit my pipe, waiting till the meeting ſhould break up. I thought too that the man had mentioned ſomething of beaver, ​and I ſuſpected it might be the ſubject of their meeting. So when they came out I accoſted my merchant. Well, Hans, ſays I, I hope you have agreed to give more than four ſhillings a pound." " No," ſays he, "I cannot give ſo much, I cannot give more than three ſhillings and ſixpence." I then ſpoke to ſeveral other dealers, but they all ſung the ſame ſong, three and ſixpence, three and ſixpence. This made it clear to me that my ſuſpicion was right; and that whatever they pretended of meeting to learn good things, the real purpoſe was to conſult how to cheat Indians in the price of beaver. Conſider but a little, Conrad, and you muſt be of my opinion. If they meet ſo often to learn good things, they would certainly have learned ſome before this time. But they are ſtill ignorant. You know our practice. If a white man, in travelling through our country, enters one of our cabins, we all treat him as I do you; we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him meat and drink, that he may allay his thirſt and hunger; and we ſpread ſoft furs for him to reſt and ſleep on: we demand nothing in return. But if I go into a white man's houſe at Albany, and aſk for victuals and drink, they ſay, Where is your money; and if I have ​none, they ſay, Get out, you Indian dog. You ſee they have not yet learned thoſe little good things that we need no meetings to be inſtructed in, becauſe our mothers taught them to us when we were children; and therefore it is impoſſible their meetings ſhould be, as they ſay, for any ſuch purpoſe, or have any ſuch effect; they are only to contrive the cheating of Indians in the price of beaver."
TO MR. DUBOURG,
CONCERNING THE DISSENSIONS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
London, October 2, 1770.
I SEE with pleafure that we think pretty much alike on the ſubjects of Engliſh America. We of the colonies have never inſiſted that we ought to be exempt from contributing to the common expences neceſſary to ſupport the proſperity of the empire. We only aſſert, that having parliaments of our own, and not having repreſentatives in that of Great Britain, our parliaments are the only judges of what we can and what we ought to contribute in this caſe; and that the Engliſh parliament has no right to take our money without our conſent. In fact the Britiſh empire is not a ſingle ſtate; it comprehends many; and though the parliament of Great-Britain has arrogated to itſelf the power of taxing the colonies, it has no more right to do ſo, than it has to tax Hanover. We have the ſame king, but not the ſame legiſlatures.
The diſpute between the two countries has already loſt England many millions ſterling, which it has loſt in its commerce, and America has in this reſpect been a proportionable gainer. This commerce conſiſted principally of ſuperfluities; objects of luxury and faſhion, which we can well do without; and the reſolution we have formed of importing no more till our grievances are redreſſed, has enabled many of our infant manufactures to take root; and it will not be eaſy to ​make our people abandon them in future, even ſhould a connection more cordial then ever ſucceed the preſent troubles.—I have, indeed, no doubt that the parliament of England will finally abandon its preſent pretenſions, and leave us to the peaceable enjoyment of our rights and privileges.
B. FRANKLIN.
Compariſon of the Conduct of the Ancient Jews, and of the antifederalists in the United States of america.
A Zealous advocate for the propoſed Federal Conſtitution in a certain public aſſembly, ſaid, that "the repugnance of a great part of mankind to good government was ſuch, that he believed, that if an angel from heaven was to bring down a conſtitution formed there for our uſe, it would nevertheleſs meet with violent oppoſition."—He was reproved for the ſuppoſed extravagance of the ſentiment; and he did not juſtify it.—Probably it might not have immediately occurred to him that the experiment had been tried, and that the event was recorded in the moſt faithful of all hiſtories, the Holy Bible; otherwiſe he might, as it ſeems to me, have ſupported his opinion by that unexceptionable authority.
The Supreme Being had been pleaſed to nouriſh up a ſingle family, by continued acts of his attentive Providence, 'till it became a great people: and having reſcued them from bondage by many miracles performed by his ſervant Moſes, he perſonally delivered to that choſen ſervant, in preſence of the whole nation, a conſtitution and code of laws for their obſervance; accompanied and ſanctioned with promiſes of great rewards, and threats of ſevere puniſhments, as the conſequence of their obedience or diſobedience.
This conſtitution, though the Deity himſelf was to be at its head (and it is therefore called by political writers a Theocracy) could not be carried into execution but by the means of his miniſters; Aaron and his ſons were therefore ​commiſſioned to be, with Moſes, the firſt eſtabliſhed miniſtry of the new government.
One would have thought, that the appointment of men who had diſtinguiſhed themſelves in procuring the liberty of their nation, and had hazarded their lives in openly oppoſing the will of a powerful monarch who would have retained that nation in ſlavery, might have been an appointment acceptable to a grateful people; and that a conſtitution, framed for them by the Deity himſelf, might on that account have been ſecure of an univerſal welcome reception. Yet there were, in every one of the thirteen tribes, ſome diſcontented, reſtleſs ſpirits, who were continually exciting them to reject the propoſed new government, and this from various motives.
Many ſtill retained an affection for Egypt, the land of their nativity, and theſe, whenever they felt any inconvenience or hardſhip, though the natural and unavoidable effect of their change of ſituation, exclaimed againſt their leaders as the authors of their trouble; and were not only for returning into Egypt, but for ſtoning their deliverers. Thoſe inclined to idolatry were diſpleaſed that their golden calf was deſtroyed. Many, of the chiefs thought the new conſtitution might be injurious to their particular intereſts, that the profitable places would be engroſſed by the families and friends of Moſes and Aaron, and others equally well-born excluded.—In Joſephus, and the Talmud, we learn ſome particulars, not ſo fully narrated in the ſcripture. We are there ​told, "that, Corah was ambitious of the prieſthood; and offended that it was conferred on Aaron; and this, as he ſaid, by the authority of Moſes only, without the conſent of the people. He accuſed Moſes of having, by various artifices, fraudulently obtained the government, and deprived the people of their liberties; and of conſpiring with Aaron to perpetuate the tyranny in their family. Thus, though Corah's real motive was the ſupplanting of Aaron, he perſuaded the people that he meant only the public good; and they, moved by his insinuations, began to cry out,—’Let us maintain the common liberty of our reſpective tribes; we have freed ourſelves from the ſlavery impoſed upon us by the Egyptians, and ſhall we ſuffer ourſelves to be made ſlaves by Moſes? If we muſt have a matter, it were better to return to Pharaoh, who at leaſt fed us with bread and onions, than to ſerve this new tyrant, who has brought us into danger of famine.' Then they called in queſtion the reality of his conference with God; and objected to the privacy of the meetings, and the preventing any of the people from being preſent at the colloquies, or even approaching the place, as grounds of great ſuſpicion. They accuſed Moſes alſo of peculation; as embezzling part of the golden ſpoons and the ſilver chargers, that the princes had offered at the dedication of the altar, and the offerings of gold by the common people, as well as moſt of the poll tax; and Aaron they accuſed of pocketing much of the gold of which he pretended to have made a molten calf. Beſides peculation, they charged Moſes with ​ambition; to gratify which paſſion, he had, they ſaid, deeived the people, by promiſing to bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey"; inſtead of doing which, he had brought them from ſuch a land; and that he thought light of all this miſchief, provided he could make himſelf an abſolute prince. That, to ſupport the new dignity with ſplendour in his family, the partial poll tax already levied and given to Aaron was to be followed by a general one, which would probably be augmented from time to time, if he were ſuffered to go on promulgating new laws, on pretence of new occaſional revelations of the Divine Will, till their whole fortunes were devoured by that ariſtocracy."
Moſes denied the charge of peculation; and his accuſers were deſtitute of proofs to ſupport it; though facts, if real, are in their nature capable, of proof. "I have not," ſaid he with holy confidence in the preſence of God), "I have not taken from this people the value of an aſs, nor done them any other injury." But his enemies had made the charge, and with ſome ſucceſs among the populace; for no kind of accuſation is ſo readily made, or eaſily believed, by knaves, as the accuſation of knavery.
In fine, no leſs than two hundred and fifty of the principal men "famous in the congregation, men of renown," heading and exciting the mob, worked them up to ſuch a pitch of phrenſy, that ​they called out, ſtone 'em, ſtone 'em, and thereby ſecure our liberties; and let us chooſe other captains that may lead us back into Egypt, in caſe we do not ſucceed in reducing the Canaamtes.
On the whole, it appears that the Iſraelites were a people jealous of their newly acquired liberty, which jealouſy was in itſelf no fault; but that, when they ſuffered it to be worked upon by artful men, pretending public good, with nothing really in view but private intereſt, they were led to oppoſe the eſtabliſhment of the new conſtitution, whereby they brought upon themſelves much inconvenience and misfortune. It farther appears from the ſame ineſtimable hiſtory, that when, after many ages, the conſtitution had become old and much abuſed, and an amendment of it was propoſed, the populace as they had accuſed Moſes of the ambition of making himſelf a prince, and cried out, ſtone him, ſtone him; ſo, excited by their high-prieſts and ſcribes, they exclaimed againſt the Meſſiah, that he aimed at becoming king of the Jews, and cried, crucify him, crucify him. From all which we may gather, that popular oppoſition to a public meaſure is no proof of its impropriety, even though the oppoſition be excited and headed by men of diſtinction.
To conclude, I beg I may not be underſtood to infer, that our general convention was divinely inſpired when it formed the new federal conſtitution, merely becauſe that conſtitution has been unreaſonably and vehemently oppoſed: yet, I muft own, I have ſo much faith in the general government of the world by Providence, that I can hardly conceive a tranſaction of ſuch momentous importance to the welfare of millions now exiſting, and to exiſt in the poſterity of a ​great nation, ſhould be ſuffered to paſs without being in ſome degree influenced, guided, and governed by that omnipotent, omnipreſent and beneficent Ruler, in whom all inferior ſpirits live, and move, and have their being.
THE INTERNAL STATE OF AMERICA:
BEING A TRUE DESCRIPTION OF THE INTEREST AND POLICY OF THAT VAST CONTINENT.
THERE is a tradition, that, in the planting of New-England, the firſt ſettlers met with many difficulties and hardſhips; as is generally the caſe when a civilized people attempt eſtabliſhing themſelves in a wilderneſs country. Being piouſly diſpoſed, they ſought relief from Heaven, by laying their wants and diſtreſſes before the Lord, in frequent ſet days of faſting and prayer. Conſtant meditation and diſcourſe on theſe ſubjects kept their minds gloomy and diſcontented; and, like the children of Iſrael, there were many diſpoſed to return to that Egypt which perſecution had induced them to abandon. At length, when it was propoſed in the aſſembly to proclaim another faſt, a farmer of plain ſenſe roſe, and remarked, that the inconveniencies they ſuffered, and concerning which they had ſo often wearied Heaven with their complaints, were not ſo great as they might have expected, and were diminiſhing every day as the colony ſtrengthened; that the earth began to reward their labour, and to furniſh liberally for their ſubſiſtence; that the ſeas and rivers were found full of fiſh, the air ſweet, the climate healthy; and, above all, that they were there in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and religious: he therefore thought, that reflecting and converſing on theſe ſubjects would be more comfortable, as tending more to make them contented with their ſituation; and that it ​would be more becoming the gratitude they owed to the Divine Being, if, inſtead of a faſt, they ſhould proclaim a thankſgiving. His advice was taken; and from that day to this they have, in every year, obſerved circumſtances of public felicity ſufficient to furniſh employment for a thankſgiving day; which is therefore conſtantly ordered and religiouſly obſerved.
I ſee in the public newſpapers of different ſtates frequent complaints of hard times, deadneſs of trade, ſcarcity of money, &c. It is not my intention to aſſert or maintain that theſe complaints are entirely without foundation. There can be no country or nation exiſting, in which there will not be ſome people ſo circumſtanced as to find it hard to gain a livelihood; people who are not in the way of any profitable trade, and with whom money is ſcarce, becauſe they have nothing to give in exchange for it; and it is always in the power of a ſmall number to make a great clamour. But let us take a cool view of the general ſtate of our affairs, and perhaps the proſpect will appear leſs gloomy than has been imagined.
The great buſineſs of the continent is agriculture. For one artiſan, or merchant, I ſuppoſe, we have at leaſt one hundred farmers, by far the greateſt part cultivators of their own fertile lands, from whence many of them draw not only food neceſſary for their ſubſiſtence, but the materials of their clothing, ſo as to need very few foreign ſupplies; while they have a ſurplus of productions to diſpoſe of, whereby wealth is gradually accumulated. Such has been the goodneſs of Divine Providence to theſe regions, and ſo favourable the climate, that, ſince the three or four years of hardſhip in the firſt ſettlement of our fathers here, a famine or ſcarcity has never been heard of among us; on the contrary, though ​ſome years may have been more, and others leſs plentiful, there has always been proviſion enough for ourſelves, and a quantity to ſpare for exportation. And although the crops of laſt year were generally good, never was the farmer better paid for the part he can ſpare commerce, as the publiſhed price currents abundantly teſtify. The lands he poſſeſſes are alſo continually riſing in value with the increaſe of population; and, on the whole, he is enabled to give ſuch good wages to thoſe who work for him, that all who are acquainted with the old world muſt agree, that in no part of it are the labouring poor ſo generally well fed, well clothed, well lodged, and well paid, as in the United States of America.
If we enter the cities, we find that, ſince the revolution, the owners of houſes and lots of ground have had their intereſt vaſtly augmented in value; rents have riſen to an aſtoniſhing height, and thence encouragement to increaſe building, which gives employment to an abundance of workmen, as does alſo the increaſed luxury and ſplendour of living of the inhabitants thus made richer. Theſe workmen all demand and obtain much higher wages than any other part of the world would afford them, and are paid in ready money. This rank of people therefore do not, or ought not, to complain of hard times; and they make a very conſiderable part of the city inhabitants.
At the diſtance I live from our American fiſheries, I cannot ſpeak of them with any degree of certainty; but I have not heard that the labour of the valuable race of men employed in them is worſe paid, or that they meet with leſs ſucceſs, than before the revolution. The whale-men indeed have been deprived of one market for their oil; but another, I hear, is opening for them, ​which it is hoped may be equally advantageous; and the demand is conſtantly increaſing for their ſpermaceti candles, which therefore bear a much higher price than formerly.
There remain the merchants and ſhopkeepers. Of theſe, though they make but a ſmall part of the whole nation, the number is conſiderable, too great indeed for the buſineſs they are employed in; for the conſumption of goods in every country has its limits; the faculties of the people, that is, their ability to buy and pay, is equal only to a certain quantity of merchandize. If merchants calculate amiſs on this proportion, and import too much, they will of courſe find the ſale dull for the overplus, and ſome of them will ſay that trade languiſhes. They ſhould, and doubtleſs will, grow wiſer by experience, and import leſs. If too many artificers in town, and farmers from the country, flattering themſelves with the idea of leading eaſier lives, turn ſhopkeepers, the whole natural quantity of that buſineſs divided among them all may afford too ſmall a ſhare for each, and occaſion complaints that trading is dead; theſe may alſo ſuppoſe that it is owing to ſcarcity of money, while, in fact, it is not ſo much from the fewneſs of buyers, as from the exceſſive number of ſellers, that the miſchief ariſes; and, if every ſhopkeeping farmer and mechanic would return to the uſe of his plough and working tools, there would remain of widows, and other women, ſhopkeepers ſufficient for the buſineſs, which might then afford them a comfortable maintenance.
Whoever has travelled through the various parts of Europe, and obſerved how ſmall is the proportion of the people in affluence or eaſy circumſtances there, compared with thoſe in poverty and miſery; the few rich and haughty landlords, the ​multitude of poor, abject, rack-rented, tythe-paying tenants, and half-paid and half-ſtarved ragged labourers; and views here the happy mediocrity that ſo generally prevails throughout theſe ſtates, where the cultivator works for himſelf, and ſupports his family in decent plenty; will, methinks, ſee abundant reaſon to bleſs Divine Providence for the evident and great difference in our favour, and be convinced that no nation known to us enjoys a greater ſhare of human felicity.
It is true, that in ſome of the ſtates there are parties and diſcords; but let us look back, and aſk if we were ever without them? Such will exiſt wherever there is liberty; and perhaps they help to preſerve it. By the colliſion of different ſentiments, ſparks of truth are ſtruck out, and political light is obtained. The different faſhions, which at preſent divide us, aim all at the public good; the differences are only about the various modes of promoting it. Things, actions, meaſures, and objects of all kinds, preſent themſelves to the minds of men in ſuch a variety of lights, that it is not poſſible we ſhould all think alike at the fame time on every ſubject, when hardly the fame man retains at all times the fame ideas of it. Parties are therefore the common lot of humanity; and ours are by no means more miſchievous or leſs beneficial than thoſe of other countries, nations, and ages, enjoying in the fame degree the great bleſſing of political liberty.
Some indeed among us are not ſo much grieved for the preſent ſtate of our affairs, as apprehenſive for the future. The growth of luxury alarms them, and they think we are from that alone in the high road to ruin. They obſerve, that no revenue is ſufficient without œconomy, and that the moſt plentiful income of a whole people from ​the natural productions of their country may be diſſipated in vain and needleſs expences, and poverty be introduced in the place of affluence.—This may be poſſible. It however rarely happens; for there ſeems to be in every nation a greater proportion of induſtry and frugality, which tend to enrich, than of idleneſs and prodigality, which occaſion poverty; ſo that upon the whole there is a continual accumulation. Reflect what Spain, Gaul, Germany, and Britain were in the time of the Romans, inhabited by people little richer than our ſavages, and conſider the wealth they at preſent poſſeſs, in numerous well-built cities, improved farms, rich moveables, magazines ſtocked with valuable manufactures, to ſay nothing of plate, jewels, and coined money; and all this, notwithſtanding their bad, waſteful, plundering governments, and their mad, deſtructive wars; and yet luxury and extravagant living has never ſuffered much restraint in thoſe countries. Then conſider the great proportion of industrious frugal farmers inhabiting the interior parts of theſe American ſtates, and of whom the body of our nation conſiſts, and judge whether it is poſſible that the luxury of our ſea-ports can be ſufficient to ruin ſuch a country.—If the importation of foreign luxuries could ruin a people, we ſhould probably have been ruined long ago; for the Britiſh nation claimed a right, and practiſed it, of importing among us not only the ſuperfluities of their own production, but thoſe of every nation under heaven; we bought and conſumed them, and yet we flourished and grew rich. At preſent our independent governments may do what we could not then do, diſcourage by heavy duties, or prevent by heavy prohibitions, ſuch importations, and thereby grow richer;—if, indeed, which may admit of diſpute, the deſire of ​adorning ourſelves with fine clothes, poſſeſſing fine furniture, with elegant houſes, &c. is not, by ſtrongly inciting to labour and induſtry, the occaſion of producing a greater value than is conſumed in the gratification of that deſire.
The agriculture and fiſheries of the United States are the great ſources of our increaſing wealth. He that puts a ſeed into the earth is recompenced, perhaps, by receiving forty out of it; and he who draws a fiſh out of our water, draws up a piece of ſilver.
Let us (and there is no doubt but we ſhall) be attentive to theſe, and then the power of rivals, with all their reſtraining and prohibiting acts, cannot much hurt us. We are ſons of the earth and ſeas, and, like Antæus in the fable, if in wreſtling with a Hercules we now and then, receive a fall, the touch of our parents will communicate to us freſh ſtrength and vigour to renew the conteſt.
INFORMATION TO THOSE WHO WOULD REMOVE TO AMERICA.
MANY perſons in Europe having, directly or by letters, expreſſed to the writer of this, who is well acquainted with North-America, their deſire of tranſporting and eſtabliſhing themſelves in that country; but who appear to him to have formed, through ignorance, miſtaken ideas and expectations of what is to be obtained there; he thinks it may be uſeful, and prevent inconvenient, expenſive, and fruitless removals and voyages of improper perſons, if he gives ſome clearer and truer notions of that part of the world than appear to have hitherto prevailed.
He finds it is imagined by numbers, that the inhabitants of North-America are rich, capable of rewarding, and diſpoſed to reward, all ſorts of ingenuity; that they are at the ſame time ignorant of all the ſciences, and conſequently that ſtrangers, poſſeſſing talents in the belles-lettres, fine arts, &c, muſt be highly eſteemed, and ſo well paid as to become eaſily rich themſelves; that, there are alſo abundance of profitable offices to be diſpoſed of, which the natives are not qualified to fill; and that having few perſons of family among them, ſtrangers of birth muſt be greatly reſpected, and of courſe eaſily obtain the beſt of thoſe offices, which will make all their fortunes: that the governments too, to encourage emigrations from Europe, not only pay the expence of perſonal tranſportation, but give lands gratis to ſtrangers, with negroes to work for them, utenſils of huſbandry, and flocks of cattle. Theſe are all wild imaginations; and thoſe who go to America with expectations ​founded upon them, will ſurely find themſelves diſappointed.
The truth is, that though there are in that country few people ſo miſerable as the poor of Europe, there are alſo very few that in Europe would be called rich: it is rather a general happy mediocrity that prevails. There are few great proprietors of the ſoil, and few tenants; moſt people cultivate their own lands, or follow ſome handicraft or merchandiſe; very few rich enough to live idly upon their rents or incomes, or to pay the high prices given in Europe for painting, ſtatues, architecture, and the other works of art that are more curious than uſeful. Hence the natural geniuſes that have ariſen in America, with ſuch talents, have uniformly quitted that country for Europe, where they can be more ſuitably rewarded. It is true that letters and mathematical knowledge are in eſteem there, but they are at the ſame time more common than is apprehended; there being already exiſting nine colleges, or univerſities, viz. four in New-England, and one in each of the provinces of New-York, New-Jerſey, Pennſylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, all furniſhed with learned profeſſors; beſides a number of ſmaller academies; theſe educate many of their youth in the languages, and thoſe ſciences that qualify men for the profeſſions of divinity, law, or phyſic. Strangers indeed are by no means excluded from exerciſing thoſe profeſſions; and the quick increaſe of inhabitants every where gives them a chance of employ, which they have in common with the natives. Of civil offices, or employments, there are few; no ſuperfluous ones as in Europe; and it is a rule eſtabliſhed in ſome of the ſtates, that no office ſhould be ſo profitable as to make it deſirable. The 36th article of the conſtitution of ​Pennſylvania runs expreſsly in theſe words: "As every freeman, to preſerve his independence (if he has not a ſufficient eſtate), ought to have ſome profeſſion, calling, trade, or farm, whereby he may honeſtly ſubſiſt, there can be no neceſſity for, nor uſe in, eſtabliſhing offices of profit; the uſual effects of which are dependence and ſervility, unbecoming freemen, in the poſſeſſors and expectants; faction, contention, corruption and diſorder among the people. Wherefore, whenever an office, through increaſe of fees or otherwiſe, becomes ſo profitable as to occaſion many to apply for it, the profits ought to be leſſened by the legiſlature."
Theſe ideas prevailing more or leſs in all the United States, it cannot be worth any man's while, who has a means of living at home, to expatriate himſelf in hopes of obtaining a profitable civil office in America; and as to military offices, they are at an end with the war, the armies being diſbanded. Much leſs is it adviſeable for a perſon to go thither, who has no other quality to recommend him but his birth. In Europe it has indeed its value; but it is a commodity that cannot be carried to a worſe market than to that of America, where people do not enquire concerning a ſtranger, What is be? but What can he do? If he has any uſeful art he is welcome; and if he exerciſes it, and behaves well, he will be reſpected by all that know him; but a mere man of quality, who on that account wants to live upon the public by ſome office or ſalary, will be deſpiſed and diſregarded. The huſbandman is in honour there, and even the mechanic, becauſe their employments are uſeful. The people have a ſaying, that God Almighty is himſelf a mechanic, the greateſt in the univerſe; and he is reſpected and admired more for the ​variety, ingenuity, and utility of his handiworks, than for the antiquity of his family. They are pleaſed with the obervation of a negro, and frequently mention it, that Boccarorra (meaning the white man) make de black man workee, make de horſe workee, make de ox workee, make ebery ting workee; only de hog. He de hog, no workee; he eat, he drink, he walk about, he go to ſleep when he pleaſe, he libb like a gentleman. According to theſe opinions of the Americans, one of them would think himſelf more obliged to a genealogiſt, who could prove for him that his anceſtors and relations for ten generations had been ploughmen, ſmiths, carpenters, turners, weavers, tanners, or even ſhoemakers, and conſequently that they were uſeful members of ſociety; than if he could only prove that they were gentlemen, doing nothing of value, but living idly on the labour of others, mere fruges conſumere nati, and other- wife good for nothing, till by their death their eſtates, like the carcaſe of the negro's gentleman-hog, come to be cut up.
With regard to encouragements for ſtrangers from government, they are really only what are derived from good laws and liberty. Strangers are welcome, becaufe there is room enough for them all, and therefore the old inhabitants are not jealous of them; the laws protect them ſufficiently, ſo that they have no need of the patronage of great men; and every one will enjoy ſecurely the profits of his induſtry. But if he does not bring a fortune with him, he muſt work and be induſtrious to live. One or two years reſidence give him all the rights of a citizen; ​but the government does not at preſent, whatever it may have done in former times, hire people to become ſettlers, by paying their paſſages, giving land, negroes, utenſils, flock, or my other kind of emolument whatſoever. In ſhort, America is the land of labour, and by no means what the Engliſh call Lubberland, and the French Pays de Cocagne, where the ſtreets are ſaid to be paved with half-peck loaves, the houſes tiled with pancakes, and where the fowls fly about ready roaſted, crying, Come eat me!
Who then are the kind of perſons to whom an emigration to America may be advantageous? and what are the advantages they may reaſonably expect?
Land being cheap in that country, from the vaſt foreſts ſtill void of inhabitants, and not likely to be occupied in an age to come, inſomuch that the propriety of an hundred acres of fertile foil full of wood may be obtained near the frontiers, in many places, for eight or ten guineas, hearty young labouring men, who underſtand the huſbandry of corn and cattle, which is nearly the lame in that country as in Europe, may eaſily eſtabliſh themſelves there. A little money ſaved of the good wages they receive there while they work for others, enables them to buy the land and begin their plantation, in which they are aſſiſted by the good-will of their neighbours, and ſome credit. Multitudes of poor people from England, Ireland, Scotland, and Germany, have by this means in a few years become wealthy farmers, who in their own countries, where all the lands are fully occupied, and the wages of labour low, could never have emerged from the mean condition wherein they were born.
From the ſalubrity of the air, the healthineſs of the climate, the. plenty of good provisions, ​and the encouragement to early marriages, by the certainty of ſubſiſtence in cultivating the earth, the increaſe of inhabitants by natural generation is very rapid in America, and becomes ſtill more ſo by the acceſſion of ſtrangers; hence there is a continual demand for more artiſans of all the neceſſary and uſeful kinds, to ſupply thoſe cultivators of the earth with houſes, and with furniture and utenſils of the groſſer ſorts, which cannot ſo well be brought from Europe. Tolerably good workmen in any of thoſe mechanic arts, are ſure to find employ, and to be well paid for their work, there being no reſtraints preventing ſtrangers from exerciſing any art they underſtand, nor any permiſſion neceſſary. If they are poor, they begin firſt as ſervants or journeymen; and if they are ſober, induſtrious, and frugal, they ſoon become mailers, eſtabliſh themſelves in buſineſs, marry, raiſe families, and become reſpectable citizens.
Alſo, perſons of moderate fortunes and capitals, who having a number of children to provide for, are deſirous of bringing them up to induſtry, and to ſecure eſtates for their poſterity, have opportunities of doing it in America, which Europe does not afford. There they may be taught and practiſe profitable mechanic arts, without incurring diſgrace on that account; but on the contrary acquiring reſpect by ſuch abilities. There ſmall capitals laid out in lands, which daily become more valuable by the increaſe of people, afford a ſolid proſpect of ample fortunes thereafter for thoſe children. The writer of this has known ſeveral inſtances of large tracts of land, bought on what was then the frontier of Pennſylvania, for ten pounds per hundred acres, which, after twenty years, when the ſettlements had been extended far beyond them, ​ſold readily, without any improvement made upon them for three pounds per acre. The acre in America is the ſame with the Engliſh acre, or the acre of Normandy.
Thoſe who deſire to underſtand the ſtate of government in America, would do well to read the constitutions of the ſeveral ſtates, and the articles of confederation that bind the whole together for general purpoſes, under the direction of one aſſembly, called the Congreſs. Theſe conſtitutions have been printed, by order of Congreſs, in America; two editions of them have alſo been printed in London; and a good tranſlation of them into French, has lately been publiſhed at Paris.
Several of the princes of Europe having of late, from an opinion of advantage to ariſe by producing all commodities and manufactures within their own dominions, ſo as to diminiſh or render uſeleſs their importations, have endeavoured to entice workmen from other countries, by high ſalaries, privileges, &c. Many perſons pretending to be ſkilled in various great manufactures, imagining that America muſt be in want of them, and that the Congreſs would probably be diſpoſed to imitate the princes above mentioned, have propoſed to go over, on condition of having their paſſages paid, lands given, ſalaries appointed, excluſive privileges for terms of years, &c. Such perſons, on reading the articles of confederation, will find that the Congreſs have no power committed to them, or money put into their hands, for ſuch purpoſes; and that if any ſuch encouragement is given, it muſt be by the government of ſome ſeparate ſtate. This, however, has rarely been done in America; and when it has been done, it has rarely ſucceeded, ſo as to eſtabliſh a ​manufacture, which the country was not yet ſo ripe for as to encourage private perſons to ſet it up; labour being generally too dear there, and hands difficult to be kept together, every one deſiring to be a maſter, and the cheapneſs of land inclining many to leave trades for agriculture. Some indeed have met with ſucceſs, and are carried on to advantage; but they are generally ſuch as require only a few hands, or wherein great part of the work is performed by machines. Goods that are bulky, and of ſo ſmall value as not well to bear the expence of freight, may often be made cheaper in the country than they can be imported; and the manufacture of ſuch goods will be profitable wherever there is a ſufficient demand. The farmers in America produce indeed a good deal of wool and flax; and none is exported, it is all worked up; but it is in the way of domeſtic manufacture, for the uſe of the family. The buying up quantities of wool and flax, with the deſign to employ ſpinners, weavers, &c. and form great eſtabliſhments, producing quantities of linen and woollen goods for ſale, has been ſeveral times attempted in different provinces; but thoſe projects have generally failed, goods of equal value being imported cheaper. And when the governments have been ſolicited to ſupport ſuch ſchemes by encouragements, in money, or by impoſing duties on importation of ſuch goods, it has been generally refuſed, on this principle, that if the country is ripe for the manufacture, it may be carried on by private perſons to advantage; and if not, it is a folly to think of forcing nature. Great eſtabliſhments of manufacture, require great numbers of poor to do the work for ſmall wages; thoſe poor are to be found in Europe, but will not be found in America, till the lands are all taken up and cultivated, and the ​exceſs of people who cannot get land want employment. The manufacture of ſilk, they ſay, is natural in France, as that of cloth in England, becauſe each country produces in plenty the firſt material: but if England will have a manufacture of ſilk as well as that of cloth, and France of cloth as well, as that of ſilk, theſe unnatural operations muſt be ſupported by mutual prohibitions, or high duties on the importation of each other's goods; by which means the workmen are enabled to tax the home conſumer by greater prices, while the higher wages they receive make them neither happier nor richer, ſince they only drink more and work leſs. Therefore the governments in America do nothing to encourage ſuch projects. The people, by this means, are not impoſed on either by the merchant or mechanic: if the merchant demands too much profit on imported ſhoes, they buy of the ſhoemaker; and if he aſks too high a price, they take them of the merchant: thus the two profeſſions are checks on each other. The ſhoemaker, however, has, on the whole, a conſiderable profit upon his labour in America, beyond what he had in Europe, as he can add to his price a ſum nearly equal to all the expences of freight and commiſſion, riſque or inſurance, &c. neceſſarily charged by the merchant. And the caſe is the ſame with the workmen in every other mechanic art. Hence it is, that artiſans generally live better and more eaſily in America than in Europe; and ſuch as are good œconomiſts make a comfortable proviſion for age, and for their children. Such may, therefore, remove with advantage to America.
In the old long-ſettled countries of Europe, all arts, trades, profeſſions, farms, &c. are ſo full, that it is difficult for a poor man who has children to place them where they may gain, or learn to ​gain, a decent livelihood. The artiſans, who fear creating future rivals in buſineſs, refuſe to take apprentices, but upon conditions of money, maintenance, or the like, which the parents are unable to comply with. Hence the youth are dragged up in ignorance of every gainful art, and obliged to become ſoldiers, or ſervants, or thieves, for a ſubſiſtence. In America, the rapid increaſe of inhabitants takes away that fear of rivalſhip, and artiſans willingly receive apprentices from the hope of profit by their labour, during the remainder of the time ſtipulated, after they ſhall be inſtructed. Hence it is eaſy for poor families to get their children inſtructed; for the artiſans are ſo deſirous of apprentices, that many of them will even give money to the parents, to have boys from ten to fifteen years of age bound apprentices to them, till the age of twenty-one; and many poor parents have, by that means, on their arrival in the country, raiſed money enough to buy land ſufficient to eſtabliſh themſelves, and ta ſubſiſt the reſt of their family by agriculture. Theſe contracts for apprentices are made before a magiſtrate, who regulates the agreement according to reaſon and juſtice; and having in view the formation of a future uſeful citizen, obliges the matter to engage by a written indenture, not only that, during the time of ſervice ſtipulated, the apprentice ſhall be duly provided with meat, drink, apparel, waſhing, and lodging, and at its expiration with a complete new ſuit of clothes, but alſo that he ſhall be taught to read, write, and caſt accounts; and that he ſhall be well inſtructed in the art or profeſſion of his maſter, or ſome other, by which he may afterwards gain a livelihood, and be able in his turn to raiſe a family. A copy of this indenture is given to the apprentice or his friends, and the magiſtrate keeps ​a record of it, to which recourſe may be had, in caſe of failure by the matter in any point of performance. This deſire among the matters to have more hands employed in working for them, induces them to pay the paſſages of young perſons, of both ſexes, who, on their arrival, agree to ſerve them one, two, three, or four years; thoſe who have already learned a trade, agreeing for a ſhorter term, in proportion to their ſkill, and the conſequent immediate value of their ſervice; and thoſe who have none, agreeing for a longer term, in conſideration of being taught an art their poverty would not permit them to acquire in their own country.
The almoſt general mediocrity of fortune that prevails in America, obliging its people to follow ſome buſineſs for ſubſiſtence, thoſe vices that ariſe uſually from idleneſs, are in a great meaſure prevented. Induſtry and conſtant employment are great preſervatives of the morals and virtue of a nation. Hence bad examples to youth are more rare in America, which muſt be a comfortable conſideration to parents. To this may be truly added, that ſerious religion, under its various denominations, is not only tolerated, but reſpected and practiſed. Atheiſm is unknown there; infidelity rare and ſecret; ſo that perſons may live to a great age in that country without having their piety ſhocked by meeting with either an atheiſt or an infidel. And the Divine Being ſeems to have manifeſted his approbation of the mutual forbearance and kindneſs with which the different feels treat each other, by the remarkable proſperity with which he has been pleaſed to favour the whole country.
FINAL SPEECH OF DR. FRANKLIN IN THE LATE FEDERAL CONVENTION.
MR. PRESIDENT,
I CONFESS that I do not entirely approve of this conſtitution at preſent: but, Sir, I am not ſure I ſhall never approve it; for having lived ſo long, I have experienced many inſtances of being obliged by better information, or fuller conſideration, to change opinions even on important ſubjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwiſe. It is, therefore, that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more reſpect to the judgment of others. Moſt men, indeed, as well as moſt feels in religion, think themſelves in poſſeſſion of all truth, and that whenever others differ from them, it is ſo far error. Steele, a proteſtant, in a dedication, tells the pope, that "the only difference between our two churches, in their opinions of the certainty of their doctrines, is, the Romiſh church is infallible, and the church of England never in the wrong." But, though many private perſons think almoſt as highly of their own infallibility as of that of their ſect, few expreſs it ſo naturally as a certain French lady, who, in a little diſpute with her ſiſter, ſaid, I don't know how it happens, ſiſter, but I meet with nobody but myſelf that is always in the right. Il n'y a que moi qui a toujours raiſon. In theſe ſentiments, Sir, I agree to this conſtitution, with all ​its faults, if they are ſuch; becauſe I think a general government neceſſary for us, and there is no form of government but what may be a bleſſing, if well adminiſtered; and I believe farther, that this is likely to be well adminiſtered for a courſe of years, and can only end in deſpotiſm, as other forms have done before it, when the people ſhall become ſo corrupted as to need deſpotic government, being incapable of any other. I doubt, too, whether any other convention we can obtain, may be able to make a better conſtitution. For when you aſſemble a number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wiſdom, you inevitably aſſemble with thoſe men, all their prejudices, their paſſions, their errors of opinion, their local intereſts, and their ſelfiſh views. From ſuch an aſſembly can a perfect production be expected? It therefore aſtoniſhes me, Sir, to find this ſyſtem approaching ſo near to perfection as it does and I think it will aſtoniſh our enemies, who are waiting with confidence, to hear that our councils are confounded, like thoſe of the builders of Babylon, and that our ſtates are on the point of ſeparation, only to meet hereafter for the purpoſe of cutting each other's throats.
Thus I conſent, Sir, to this conſtitution, becauſe I expect no better, and becauſe I am not ſure that this is not the beſt. The opinions I have had of its errors, I ſacrifice to the public good. I have never whiſpered a ſyllable of them abroad. Within theſe walls they were born; and here they ſhall die. If every one of us, in returning to our conſtituents, were to report the objections he has had to it, and endeavour to gain partiſans in ſupport of them, we might prevent its being generally received, and thereby loſe all the ſalutary effects and great advantages reſulting naturally in our favour among foreign nations, as well as ​among ourſelves, from our real or apparent unanimity. Much of the ſtrength and efficiency of any government, in procuring and ſecuring happineſs to the people, depends on opinion; on the general opinion of the goodneſs of that government, as well as of the wiſdom and integrity of its governors.
I hope, therefore, that for our own ſakes as a part of the people, and for the ſake of our poſterity, we ſhall act heartily and unanimouſly in recommending this conſtitution, wherever our influence may extend, and turn our future thoughts and endeavours to the means of having it well adminiſtered.
On the whole, Sir, I cannot help expreſſing a wiſh, that every member of the convention, who may ſtill have objections, would with me, on this occaſion, doubt a little of his own infallibility, and, to make manifeſt our unanimity, put his name to this inſtrument.
[The motion was then made for adding the laſt formula, viz.
Done in Convention, by the unanimous conſent, &c.: which was agreed to, and added accordingly.]
SKETCH OF AN ENGLISH SCHOOL:
FOR THE CONSIDERATION OF THE TRUSTEES OF THE PHILADELPHIA ACADEMY.
IT is expected that every ſcholar to be admitted into this ſchool, be at leaſt able to pronounce and divide the ſyllables in reading, and to write a legible hand. None to be received that are under years of age.
FIRST, OR LOWEST CLASS.
Let the firſt claſs learn the Engliſh Grammar rules, and at the ſame time let particular care be taken to improve them in orthography. Perhaps the latter is beſt done by pairing the ſcholars; two of thoſe neareſt equal in their ſpelling to be put together. Let theſe ſtrive for victory; each propounding ten words every day to the other to be ſpelled. "He that ſpells truly moſt of the other's words, is victor for that day; he that is victor moſt days in a month, to obtain a prize, a pretty neat book of ſome kind, uſeful in their future ſtudies. This method fixes the attention of children extremely to the orthography of words, and makes them good ſpellers very early. It is a ſhame for a man to be ſo ignorant of this little art, in his own language, as to be perpetually confounding words of like found and different ſignifications; the conſciouſneſs of which defect ​makes ſome men, otherwiſe of good learning and underſtanding, averſe to writing even a common letter.
Let the pieces read by the ſcholars in this claſs be ſhort; ſuch as Croxal's fables and little ſtories. In giving the leſſon, let it be read to them; let the meaning of the difficult words in it be explained to them; and let them con over by themſelves before they are called to read to the maſter or uſher; who is to take particular care that they do not read too faſt, and that they duly obſerve the ſtops and pauſes. A vocabulary of the moſt uſual difficult words might be formed for their uſe, with explanations; and they might daily get a few of thoſe words and explanations by heart, which would a little exerciſe their memories; or at leaſt they might write a number of them in a ſmall book for the purpoſe, which would help to fix the meaning of thoſe words in their minds, and at the ſame time furniſh every one with a little dictionary for his future uſe.
THE SECOND CLASS
TO be taught reading with attention, and with proper modulations of the voice; according to the ſentiment and the ſubject.
Some ſhort pieces, not exceeding the length of a Spectator, to be given this claſs for leſſons (and ſome of the eaſier Spectators would be very ſuitable for the purpoſe). Theſe leſſons might be given every night as talks; the ſcholars to ſtudy them againſt the morning. Let it then be required of them to give an account, firſt of the parts of ſpeech, and conſtruction of one or two Sentences. This will oblige them to recur frequently to their grammar, and fix its principal rules in their memory. Next, of the intention of the writer, or the ſcope of the piece, the meaning of each ſentence, and of every uncommon word. This would early acquaint them with the meaning and force of words, and give them that moſt neceſſary habit, of reading with attention.
The matter then to read the piece with the proper modulations of voice, due emphaſis, and ſuitable action, where action is required; and put the youth on imitating his manner.
Where the author has uſed an expreſſion not the beſt, let it be pointed out; and let his beauties be particularly remarked to the youth. Let the leſſons for reading be varied, that the youth may be made acquainted with good ſtyles of all kinds in proſe and verſe, and the proper manner of reading each kind—ſometimes a well-told ſtory, a piece of a ſermon, a general's ſpeech to his ſoldiers, a ſpeech in a tragedy, ſome part ​of a comedy, an ode, a ſatire, a letter, blank verſe, Hudibraſtic, heroic, &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 fame time be improved.
It is required that they ſhould firſt ſtudy and underſtand the leſſons, before they are put upon reading them properly to which end each boy ſhould have an English dictionary, to help him over difficulties. When our boys read Engliſh to us, we are apt to imagine they underſtand what they read, becauſe we do, and becauſe it is their mother tongue. But they often read, as parrots ſpeak, knowing little or nothing of the meaning. And it is impoſſible a reader ſhould give the due modulation to his voice, and pronounce properly, unleſs his underſtanding goes before his tongue, and makes him maſter of the ſentiment. Accuſtoming boys to read aloud what they do not firſt underſtand, is the cauſe of thoſe even ſet tones ſo common among readers, which, when they have once got a habit of uſing, they find ſo difficult to correct; by which means, among fifty readers we ſcarcely find a good one. For want of good reading, pieces publiſhed with a view to influence the minds of men, for their own or the public benefit, loſe half their force. Were there but one good reader in a neighbourhood, a public orator might be heard throughout a nation with the ſame advantages, and have the ſame effect upon his audience, as if they ſtood within the reach of his voice.
THE THIRD CLASS
TO be taught ſpeaking properly and gracefully; which is near a-kin to good reading, and naturally follows it in the ſtudies of youth. Let the ſcholars of this claſs begin with learning the elements of rhetoric from ſome ſhort ſyſtem, ſo as to be able to give an account of the moſt uſeful tropes and figures. Let all their bad habits of ſpeaking, all offences againſt good grammar, all corrupt or foreign accents, and all improper phraſes, be pointed out to them. Short ſpeeches from the Roman or other hiſtory, or from the parliamentary debates, might be got by heart, and delivered with the proper action, &c. Speeches and ſcenes in our beſt tragedies and Comedies (avoiding every thing that could injure the morals of youth) might likewiſe be got by rote, and the boys exerciſed in delivering or acting them; great care being taken to form their manner after the trueſt models.
For their farther improvement, and a little to vary their ſtudies, let them now begin to read hiſtory, after having got by heart a ſhort table of the principal epochas in chronology. 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 encouragements to thoſe who are able to give the beſt account of what they have read, as to times, places, names of perſons, &c. This will make them read with attention, and imprint the hiſtory well in their memories. ​In remarking on the hiſtory, the maſter will have fine opportunities of inſtilling inſtructions of various kinds, and improving the morals, as well as the underſtandings, of youth.
The natural and mechanic hiſtory, contained in the Spectacle de la Nature, might alſo be begun in this claſs, and continued through the ſubſequent claſſes, by other books of the ſame kind; for, next to the knowledge of duty, this kind of knowledge is certainly the moſt uſeful, as well as the moſt entertaining. The merchant may thereby be enabled better to underſtand many commodities in trade; the handicraftſman to improve his buſineſs by new inſtruments, mixtures and materials; and frequently hints are given for new manufactures, or new methods of improving land, that may be ſet on foot greatly to the advantage of a country.
THE FOURTH CLASS
TO be taught compoſition. Writing one's own language well, is the next neceſſary accompliſhment after good ſpeaking. It is the writing-maſter's buſineſs to take care that the boys make fair characters, and place them ſtraight and even in the lines: but to form their ſtyle, and even to take care that the ſtops and capitals are properly diſpoſed, is the part of the Engliſh maſter. The boys ſhould be put on writing letters to each other on any common occurrences, and on various ſubjects, imaginary buſineſs, &c. containing little ſtories, accounts of their late reading, what parts of authors pleaſe them, and why; letters of congratulation, of compliment, of requeſt, of thanks, of recommendation, of admonition, of conſolation, of expoſtulation, excuſe, &c. In theſe they ſhould be taught to expreſs themſelves clearly, conciſely and naturally, without affected words or high-flown phraſes. All their letters to paſs through the maſter's hand, who is to point out the faults, adviſe the corrections, and commend what he finds right. Some of the beſt letters publiſhed in our own language, as Sir William Temple's, thoſe of Pope and his friends, and ſome others, might be ſet before the youth as models, their beauties pointed out and explained by the maſter, the letters themſelves tranſcribed by the ſcholar.
Dr. Johnſon's Ethices Elementa, or Firſt Principles of Morality, may now be read by the ſcholars, and explained by the maſter, to lay a ſolid foundation of virtue and piety in their minds. ​And as this claſs continues the reading of hiſtory, let them now, at proper hours, receive ſome farther inſtruftion in chronology, and in that part of geography (from the mathematical matter) which is neceſſary to underſtand the maps and globes. They ſhould alſo be acquainted with the modern names of the places they find mentioned in ancient writers. The exerciſes of good reading, and proper ſpeaking, ſtill continued at ſuitable times.
THE FIFTH CLASS.
TO improve the youth in competition, they may now, beſides continuing to write letters, begin to write little eſſays in proſe, and ſometimes in verſe; not to make them poets, but for this reaſon, that nothing acquaints a lad ſo ſpeedily with variety of expreſſion, as the neceſſity of finding ſuch words and phraſes as will ſuit the meaſure, found and rhime of verſe, and at the ſame time well expreſs the ſentiment. Theſe eſſays ſhould all paſs under the maſter's eye, who will point out their faults, and put the writer on correcting them. Where the judgment is not ripe enough for forming new eſſays, let the ſentiments of a Spectator be given, and required to be clothed in the ſcholar's own words; or the circumſtances of ſome good ſtory; the ſcholar to find expreſſion. Let them be put ſometimes on abridging a paragraph of a diffuſe author: ſometimes on dilating or amplifying what is wrote more cloſely. And now let Dr. Johnſon's Noetica, or Firſt Principles of Human Knowledge, containing a logic, or art of reaſoning, &c. be read by the youth, and the difficulties that may occur to them be explained by the maſter. The reading of hiſtory, and the exerciſes of good reading and juſt ſpeaking, ſtill continued.
THE SIXTH CLASS.
IN this claſs, betides continuing the flu dies of the preceding in hiſtory, rhetoric, logic, moral and natural philoſophy, the beſt Engliſh authors may be read and explained; 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 there be public exerciſes in the hall; the truſtees and citizens preſent. Then let fine gilt books be given as prizes to ſuch boys as diſtinguiſh themſelves, and excel the others in any branch of learning, making three degrees of compariſon: giving the beſt prize to him that performs beſt; a leſs valuable one to him that comes up next to the beſt: and another to the third. Commendations, encouragement, and advice to the reſt; keeping up their hopes, that, by induſtry, they may excel another time. The names of thoſe that obtain the 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 writing-maſter, improving their hands; others with the mathematical maſter, learning arithmetics accounts, geography, uſe of the globes, drawing, mechanics, &c.; while the reſt are in the Engliſh ſchool, under the Engliſh matter's care.
Thus inſtructed, youth will come out of this ſchool fitted for learning any buſineſs, calling, or profeſſion, except ſuch wherein languages are required; and though unacquainted with any ​ancient or foreign tongue, they will be maſters of their own, which is of more immediate and general uſe; and withal will have attained many other valuable accompliſhments: the time uſually ſpent in acquiring thoſe languages, often without ſucceſs, being here employed in laying ſuch a foundation of knowledge and ability, as, properly improved, may qualify them to paſs through and execute the ſeveral offices of civil life, with advantage and reputation to themſelves and country.
FINIS.
* ↑ As a proof that Franklin was anciently the common name of an order or rank in England, ſee Judge Forteſcue, De laudibus legum Anglæ, written about the year 1412, in which is the following paſſage, to ſhew that good juries might eaſily be formed in any part of England:  "Regio etiam illa, ita reſperſa reſertaque eſt poſſeſſoribus terrarum et agrorum, quod in ea, villula tam parva reperiri non poterit, in qua non eſt miles, armiger, vel pater-familias, qualis ibidem franklin vulgariter nuncupatur, magnis ditatus poſſeſſionibus, nec non libere tenentes et alii valecti plurimi, fuis patrimoniis ſuſſicientes, ad faciendum juratum, in forma prænotata."  "Moreover the ſame country is ſo filled and repleniſhed with landed menne, that therein ſo ſmall a thorpe cannot be found wherein dwelleth not a knight, an eſquire, or ſuch a houſeholder as is there commonly called a franklin, enriched with great poſſeſſions; and alſo other freeholders and many yeomen, able for their livelihoodes to make a jury in form aforementioned." Old Translation. Chancer too calls his country gentleman a franklin, and after deſcribing his good houſekeeping, thus characteriſes him: This worthy franklin bore a purſe of ſilk, Fix'd to his girdle, white as morning milk. Knight of the ſhire, firſt juſtice at th' aſſize, To help the poor, the doubtful to adviſe. In all employments, generous, juſt he prov'd, Renown'd for courteſy, by all belov'd.
* ↑ Town in the Iſland of Nantucket.
* ↑ Probably the Dunciad, where we find him thus immortalized by the author:  Silence, ye wolves, while Ralph to Cynthia howls, And makes night hideous; anſwer him, ye owls!
* ↑ Printing-houſes in general are thus denominated by the workmen: the ſpirit they call by the name of Ralph.
* ↑ A manuſcript note in the file of the American Mercury, preſerved in the Philadelphia library, ſays, that Franklin wrote the firſt five numbers, and part of the eight.
* ↑ Dr. Stuber was born in Philadelphia, of German parents. He was ſent, at an early age, to the univerſity, where his genius, diligence and amiable temper ſoon acquired him the particular notice and favour of thoſe under whoſe immediate direction he was placed. After paſſing through the common courſe of ſtudy, in a much ſhorter time than uſual, he left the univerſity, at the age of ſixteen, with great reputation. Not long after, he entered on the ſtudy of Phyſic; and the zeal with which he purſued it, and the advances he made, gave his friends reaſon to form the moſt flattering proſpects of his future eminence and uſefulneſs in the profeſſion. As Dr. Stuber's circumſtances were very moderate, he did not think this purſuit well calculated to anſwer them. He therefore relinquiſhed it, after he had obtained a degree in the profeſſion, and qualified himſelf to practiſe with credit and ſucceſs; and immediately entered on the ſtudy of Law. In purſuit of the laſt mentioned object, he was prematurely arreſted, before he had an opportunity of reaping the fruit of thoſe talents with which he was endowed, and of a youth ſpent in the ardent and ſucceſsful purſuit of uſeful and elegant literature.
* ↑ A general idea of the college of Mirania.
* ↑ The Rev. and learned Mr. Francis Alliſon, afterwards D. D. and vice-provoſt of the college.
* ↑ Mr. Theophilus Grew, afterwards profeſſor of mathematics in the college.
* ↑ Thoſe aſſiſtants were at that time Mr. Charles Thomſon, late ſecretary of congreſs, Mr. Paul Jackſon, and Mr. Jacob Duche.
* ↑ The name given to the principal or head of the ideal college, the ſyſtem of education in which hath nevertheleſs been nearly realized, or followed as a model, in the college and academy of Philadelphia, and ſome other American ſeminaries, for many years paſt.
* ↑ The quotation alluded to (from the London Monthly Review for 1749), was judged to reflect too ſeverely on the diſcipline and government of the Engliſh universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and was expunged from the following editions of this work.
* ↑ Upon the application of archbiſhop Herring and P. Collinſon, Eſq; at Dr. Franklin's requeſt, (aided by the letters of Mr Allen and Mr. Peters) the hon. Thomas Penn, Eſq; ſubſcribed an annual ſum, and afterwards gave at leaſt 5000l. to the founding or engrafting the college upon the academy.
* ↑ This ſpeech will be found among the Eſſays.
* ↑ What phyſicians call the perſpirable matter is, that vapour which paſſes off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores of the ſkin. The quantity of this is ſaid to be five-eights of what we eat.
* ↑ Tranſlator of Dr. Franklin's works into French.
* ↑ It is derived from bis again, and cuit baked.
* ↑ Preſent member of parliament for the borough of Calne, in Wiltſhire, between whom and our author there ſubſiſted a very cloſe friendship.
* ↑ This offer having been accepted by the late king of Pruſſia, a treaty of amity and commerce was concluded between that monarch and the United States, containing the following humane, philanthropic article; in the formation of which Dr. Franklin, as one of the American plenipotentiaries, was principally concerned, viz.  ART. XXIII.   If war ſhould ariſe between the two contracting parties, the merchants of either country, then reſiding in the other, ſhall be allowed to remain nine months to collect their debts and ſettle their affairs, and may depart freely, carrying off all their effects without moleſtation or hindrance: and all women and children, ſcholars of every faculty, cultivators of the earth, artiſans, manufacturers, and fiſhermen, unarmed and inhabiting unfortified towns, villages, or places, and in general all others whoſe occupations are for the common ſubſiſtence and benefit of mankind, ſhall be allowed to continue their reſpective employments, and ſhall not be moleſted in their perſons, nor ſhall their houſes or goods be burnt, or otherwiſe deſtroyed, nor their fields waſted, by the armed force of the enemy into whoſe power, by the events of war, they may happen to fall; but if any thing is neceſſary to be taken from them for the uſe of ſuch armed force, the ſame ſhall be paid for at a reasonable price. And all merchant and trading veſſels employed in exchanging the products of different places, and thereby rendering the neceſſaries, conveniences, and comforts of human life more eaſy to be obtained, and more general, ſhall be allowed to paſs free and unmoleſted; and neither of the contraſting powers ſhall grant or iſſue any commiſſion to any private armed veſſels, empowering them to take or deſtroy ſuch trading veſſels, or interrupt ſuch commerce.
* ↑ It is remarkable, that in all ages and countries, hoſpitality has been allowed as the virtue of thoſe, whom the civilized were pleaſed to call Barbarians; the Greeks celebrated the Scythians for it. The Saracens poſſeſſed it eminently; and it is to this day the reigning virtue of the wild Arabs. St. Paul too, in the relation of his voyage and ſhipwreck, on the iſland of Melita, ſays, "The barbarous people ſhewed us no little kindneſs; for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, becauſe of the preſent rain, and becauſe of the cold." This note is taken from a ſmall collection of Franklin's papers, printed for Dilly.
* ↑ Numbers, chap. xiv.
* ↑ Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 3. "And they gathered themſelves together againſt Moſes and againſt Aaron, and ſaid unto them, ye take too much upon you, ſeeing all the congregations are holy, every one of them,—wherefore then lift ye up yourſelves above the congregation."
* ↑ Numbers, chap. vii.
* ↑ Exodus chapter xxxv. ver. 22.
* ↑ Numbers, chap. iii, and Exodus, chap. xxx.
* ↑ Numbers, chap. xvi. ver. 13. "Is it a ſmall thing that thou haſt brought us up out of a land flowing with milk and honey, to kill us in this wilderneſs, except thou make thyſelf altogether a prince over us?"
* ↑ Numbers, chap. iii.
* ↑ Exodus, chap. xxx.
* ↑ Numbers, chap. xvi.
* ↑ .......born Merely to eat up the corn. Watts.
* ↑ Our reaſons for aſcribing this ſpeech to Dr. Franklin, are its internal evidence, and its having appeared with his name, during his life-time, uncontradicted, in an American periodical publication.
* ↑ This piece did not come to hand till the volume had been ſome time at the preſs. This was the caſe alſo with ſeveral other papers, and muſt be our apology for any defect that may appear in the arrangement.