The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Preface
• The Autobiography
• I: Skeleton Sketch of the Topics For the Autobiography
• 1706-1730 Ii
• Continuation of the Account of My Life, Begun At Passy, Near Paris, 1784
• 1.: Temperance
• 2.: Silence
• 3.: Order
• 4.: Resolution
• 5.: Frugality
• 6.: Industry
• 7.: Sincerity
• 8.: Justice
• 9.: Moderation
• 10.: Cleanliness
• 11.: Tranquillity
• 12.: Chastity
• 13.: Humility
• Correspondence and Miscellaneous Writings
• III: To Sir Hans Sloane 1
• IV: To Miss Jane Franklin 1
• V: Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion
• First Principles
• Milton’s Hymn to the Creator
• Petition
• Duty
• VI: Miscellaneous Observations
• VII: Rules For a Club Established For Mutual Improvement 1
• VIII: The Busy-body—no. I 1
• The Busy-body—no. Ii
• The Busy-body—no. Iii
• The Busy-body—no. Iv
• The Busy-body—no. V
• The Busy-body—no. Viii
• IX: A Modest Inquiry Into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency 1
• X: Dialogue Concerning Virtue and Pleasure 2
• XI: Public Men 1
• XII: To Mrs. Jane Mecom 1
• XIII: Letter From Celia Single 1
• XIV: Letter From Anthony Afterwit 1
• XV: Self-denial Not the Essence of Virtue 1

CORRESPONDENCE AND MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS

III

TO SIR HANS SLOANE1

London, 2 June, 1725.

Sir:—

Having lately been in the northern parts of America, I have brought from thence a purse made of the asbestos, a piece of the stone, and a piece of the wood, the pithy part of which is of the same nature, and called by the inhabitants salamander cotton. As you are noted to be a lover of curiosities, I have informed you of these; and if you have any inclination to purchase or see them, let me know your pleasure by a line for me at the Golden Fan, Little Britain, and I will wait upon you with them. I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

B. Franklin.

P. S.—I expect to be out of town in two or three days, and therefore beg an immediate answer.

IV

TO MISS JANE FRANKLIN1

Philadelphia, 6 January, 1726-7.

Dear Sister:

I am highly pleased with the account Captain Freeman gives me of you. I always judged by your behaviour when a child, that you would make a good, agreeable woman, and you know you were ever my peculiar favorite. I have been thinking what would be a suitable present for me to make, and for you to receive, as I hear you are grown a celebrated beauty. I had almost determined on a tea-table; but when I considered, that the character of a good housewife was far preferable to that of being only a pretty gentlewoman, I concluded to send you a spinning-wheel, which I hope you will accept as a small token of my sincere love and affection.

Sister, farewell, and remember that modesty, as it makes the most homely virgin amiable and charming, so the want of it infallibly renders the most perfect beauty disagreeable and odious. But when that brightest of female virtues shines among other perfections of body and mind in the same person, it makes the woman more lovely than an angel. Excuse this freedom, and use the same with me. I am, dear Jenny, your loving brother,

B. Franklin.

V

ARTICLES OF BELIEF AND ACTS OF RELIGION

Part I

PHILAD^A

nov. 20, 1728

FIRST PRINCIPLES

I BELIEVE there is one Supreme most perfect Being, Author and Father of the Gods themselves.

For I believe that Man is not the most perfect Being but one, rather that as there are many degrees of Beings his Inferior, so there are many Degrees of Beings superior to him.

Also, when I stretch my Imagination thro’ and beyond our System of Planets, beyond the visible fix’d Stars themselves, into that Space that is every Way infinite, & conceive it fill’d with Suns like ours, each with a Chorus of Worlds for ever moving round him, then this little Ball on which we move, seems, even in my narrow Imagination, to be almost Nothing, and my self less than nothing, and of no sort of Consequence.

When I think thus, I imagine it great Vanity in me to suppose, that the Supremely Perfect does in the least regard such an inconsiderable Nothing as Man. More especially, since it is impossible for me to have any positive clear idea of that which is infinite and incomprehensible, I cannot conceive otherwise than that He, the Infinite Father, expects or requires no Worship or Praise from us, but that he is even infinitely above it.

But since there is in all Men something like a natural principle which enclines them to Devotion, or the Worship of some unseen Power;

And since Men are endued with Reason superior to all other Animals that we are in our World acquainted with;

Therefore I think it seems required of me, and my Duty, as a Man, to pay Divine Regards to Something.

I conceive then, that the Infinite has created many beings or Gods, vastly superior to Man, who can better conceive his Perfections than we, and return him a more rational and glorious Praise.

As among Men, the Praise of the Ignorant or of Children is not regarded by the ingenious Painter or Architect, who is rather honour’d and pleased with the approbation of Wise Men & Artists.

It may be that these created Gods are immortal, or it may be that after many Ages they are changed, and Others supply their Places.

Howbeit, I conceive that each of these is exceeding wise, and good, and very powerful; and that Each has made for himself, one glorious Sun, attended with a beautiful and admirable System of Planets. It is that particular Wise and good God, who is the author and owner of our System, that I propose for the object of my praise and adoration.

For I conceive that he has in himself some of those Passions he has planted in us, and that, since he has given us Reason whereby we are capable of observing his Wisdom in the Creation, he is not above caring for us, being pleas’d with our Praise, and offended when we slight Him, or neglect his glory.

I conceive for many Reasons that he is a good Being, and as I should be happy to have so wise, good, and powerful a Being my friend let me consider in what manner I shall make myself most acceptable to him.

Next to the Praise resulting from & due to his Wisdom, I believe he is pleas’d and delights in the Happiness of those he has created; and since without Virtue Man1 can have no Happiness in this World, I firmly believe he delights to see me Virtuous because he is pleas’d when he sees Me Happy.

And since he has created many Things which seem purely design’d for the Delight of Man, I believe he is not offended when he sees his Children solace themselves in any manner of pleasant exercises and Innocent Delights, and I think no Pleasure innocent that is to Man hurtful.

I love him therefore for his Goodness and I adore him for his Wisdom.

Let me then not fail to praise my God continually, for it is his Due, and it is all I can return for his many Favours and great Goodness to me; and let me resolve to be virtuous, that I may be happy, that I may please Him, who is delighted to see me happy. Amen.

1. adoration. 2. petition. 3. thanks.

Prel.—Being mindful that before I address the Deity my soul ought to be calm and serene, free from Passion and Perturbation, or otherwise elevated with Rational Joy and Pleasure, I ought to use a Countenance that expresses a filial Respect, mixed w^th a kind of Smiling, that Signifies inward Joy and Satisfaction and Admiration.

O wise God,

My good Father,

Thou beholdest the sincerity of my Heart, and of my Devotion;

Grant me a Continuance of thy Favour!

(1)

O Creator, O Father, I believe that thou art Good, and that thou art pleas’d with the Pleasure of thy children.

Praised be thy name for Ever.

(2)

By thy Power hast thou made the glorious Sun; with his attending Worlds; from the energy of thy mighty Will they first received [their prodigious] motion, and by thy Wisdom hast thou prescribed the wondrous Laws by which they move.

Praised be thy name for Ever.

(3)

By thy Wisdom hast thou formed all Things. Thou hast created Man, bestowing Life and Reason, and placed him in Dignity superior to thy other earthly Creatures.

Praised be thy name for Ever.

(4)

Thy Wisdom, thy Power, and thy Goodness are every where clearly seen; in the air and in the water, in the Heaven and on the Earth; Thou providest for the various winged Fowl, and the innumerable Inhabitants of the Water; Thou givest Cold and Heat, Rain and Sunshine in their Season, & to the Fruits of the Earth Increase.

Praised be thy name for Ever.

(5)

Thou abhorrest in thy Creatures Treachery and Deceit, Malice, Revenge, | Intemperance, | and every other hurtful Vice; but Thou art a Lover of Justice and Sincerity, of Friendship, Benevolence, and every Virtue. Thou art my Friend, my Father, and my Benefactor.

Praised be thy name, O God, for Ever.

Amen.

After this, it will not be improper to read part of some such Book as Ray’s Wisdom of God in the Creation, or Blackmore On the Creation, or the Archbishop of Cambray’s Demonstration of the Being of a God, &c., or else spend some Minutes in a serious Silence, contemplating on those subjects.

Then Sing

MILTON’S HYMN TO THE CREATOR

• • These are thy Glorious Works, Parent of Good!
  • Almighty; Thine this Universal Frame,
  • Thus wondrous fair! Thy self how wondrous then!
  • Speak ye who best can tell, Ye Sons of Light,
  • Angels, for ye behold him, and with Songs
  • And Choral Symphonies, Day without Night
  • Circle his Throne rejoicing. You in Heav’n.
  • On Earth, join all ye Creatures to extol
  • Him first, him last, him midst and without End.
• • Fairest of Stars, last in the Train of Night
  • If rather Thou belongst not to the Dawn,
  • Sure Pledge of Day! Thou crown’st the smiling Morn.
  • With thy bright Circlet; Praise him in thy Sphere
  • While Day arises, that sweet Hour of Prime.
• • Thou Sun, of this Great World, both Eye and Son
  • Acknowledge him thy greater, Sound his Praise
  • In thy eternal Course; both when thou climb’st
  • And when high Noon hast gain’d, and when thou fall’st.
  • Moon! that now meet’st the orient Sun, now fly’st
  • With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies,
  • And ye five other wandering Fires, that move
  • In mystic Dance, not without Song; resound
  • His Praise, that out of Darkness called up Light.
  • Air! and ye Elements! the eldest Birth
  • Of Nature’s womb, that in Quaternion run
  • Perpetual Circle, multiform and mix
  • And nourish all things, let your ceaseless Change
  • Vary to our great Maker still new Praise
  • Ye mists and Exhalations that now rise
  • From Hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,
  • Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with Gold
  • In honour to the World’s Great Author rise
  • Whether to deck with Clouds th : uncolour’d sky
  • Or wet the thirsty Earth w^th falling Show’rs
  • Rising or falling still advance his Praise.
  • His Praise, ye Winds! that from 4 Quarters blow,
  • Breathe soft or Loud; and wave your Tops ye Pines!
  • With every Plant, in sign of worship wave.
  • Fountains! and ye that warble as ye flow
  • Melodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise
  • Join voices all ye living Souls, ye Birds!
  • That singing, up to Heaven’s high Gate ascend
  • Bear on your wings, & in your Note his Praise
  • Ye that in Waters glide! and ye that walk
  • The Earth! and stately tread or lowly creep;
  • Witness if I be silent Ev’n or Morn,
  • To Hill or Valley, Fountain or Fresh Shade
  • Made Vocal by my Song, and taught his Praise.

Here follows the Reading of some Book or part of a Book Discoursing on and exciting to Moral Virtue.

PETITION

Inasmuch as by Reason of our Ignorance We cannot be certain that many Things Which we often hear mentioned in the Petitions of Men to the Deity, would prove real Goods if they were in our Possession, and as I have reason to hope and believe that the Goodness of my Heavenly Father will not withold from me a suitable share of Temporal Blessings, if by a Virtuous and holy Life I conciliate his Favour and Kindness, Therefore I presume not to ask such things, but rather humbly and with a Sincere Heart express my earnest desires that he would graciously assist my Continual Endeavours and Resolutions of eschewing Vice and embracing Virtue; which Kind of Supplications will at least be thus far beneficial, as they remind me in a solemn manner of my Extensive

DUTY

That I may be preserved from Atheism & Infidelity, Impiety and Profaneness, and in my Addresses to Thee carefully avoid Irreverence and ostentation, Formality and odious Hypocrisy,

Help me, O Father.

That I may be loyal to my Prince and faithful to my country, careful for its good, valiant in its defense, and obedient to its Laws, abhorring Treason as much as Tyranny,

Help me, O Father.

That I may to those above me, be dutiful, humble, and submissive, avoiding Pride, Disrespect, and Contumacy,

Help me, O Father.

That I may to those below me, be gracious, Condescending, & Forgiving, using Clemency, protecting innocent Distress, avoiding Cruelty, Harshness, & oppression, Insolence and unreasonable Severity,

Help me, O Father.

That I may refrain from Censure, Calumny, & Detraction; that I may avoid and abhor Deceit and Envy, Fraud, Flattery, and Hatred, Malice, Lying and Ingratitude,

Help me, O Father.

That I may be sincere in Friendship, faithful in trust and Impartial in Judgment, watchful against Pride and against Anger (that momentary Madness),

Help me, O Father.

That I may be just in all my Dealings and temperate in my Pleasures, full of Candour and Ingenuity, Humanity and Benevolence,

Help me, O Father.

That I may be grateful to my Benefactors and generous to my Friends, exerting Charity and Liberality to the Poor and Pity to the Miserable,

Help me, O Father.

That I may avoid Avarice and Ambition, Jealousie and Intemperance, Falsehood, Luxury, and Lasciviousness,

Help me, O Father.

That I may possess Integrity and Evenness of Mind, Resolution in Difficulties, and Fortitude under affliction; that I may be punctual in performing my promises, Peaceable and prudent in my Behaviour,

Help me, O Father.

That I may have tenderness for the weak and a Reverent respect for the Ancient; that I may be Kind to my Neighbours, goodnatured to my companions and hospitable to strangers,

Help me, O Father.

That I may be averse to Tale bearing, Backbiting, Detraction, Slander, & Craft, and overreaching, abhor Extortion and Perjury and every Kind of wickedness,

Help me, O Father.

That I may be honest and open hearted, gentle, merciful, and good, cheerful in spirit, rejoicing in the Good of others,

Help me, O Father.

That I may have a constant Regard to Honour and Probity; That I may possess a perfect innocence and a good Conscience, and at length become Truly Virtuous and Magnanimous,

Help me, Good God.

Help me, O Father.

VI

MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS

Whence does it proceed, that the proselytes to any sect or persuasion generally appear more zealous than those that are bred up in it?

Answer. I suppose that people bred in different persuasions are nearly zealous alike. Then he that changes his party is either sincere or not sincere; that is, he either does it for the sake of the opinions merely, or with a view of interest. If he is sincere, and has no view of interest, and considers, before he declares himself, how much ill-will he shall have from those he leaves, and that those he is about to go among will be apt to suspect his sincerity; if he is not really zealous he will not declare, and therefore must be zealous if he does declare.

If he is not sincere, he is obliged at least to put on an appearance of great zeal, to convince the better his new friends that he is heartily in earnest; for his old ones, he knows, dislike him. And as few acts of zeal will be more taken notice of than such as are done against the party he has left, he is inclined to injure or malign them, because he knows they contemn and despise him. Hence, as the proverb says, One renegado is worse than ten Turks.

Sir:—It is strange that among men who are born for society and mutual solace there should be any who take pleasure in speaking disagreeable things to their acquaintance. But such there are, I assure you; and I should be glad if a little public chastisement might be any means of reforming them. These ill-natured people study a man’s temper, or the circumstances of his life, merely to know what disgusts him, and what he does not care to hear mentioned; and this they take care to omit no opportunity of disturbing him with. They communicate their wonderful discoveries to others, with an ill-natured satisfaction in their countenances; Say such a thing to such a man and you cannot mortify him worse. They delight (to use their own phrase) in seeing galled horses wince, and, like flies, a sore place is a feast to them. Know, ye wretches, that the meanest insect, the trifling musqueto, the filthy bug, have it in their power to give pain to men; but to be able to give pleasure to your fellow creatures requires good nature and a kind and humane disposition, joined with talents to which ye seem to have no pretension.

X. Y.

If a sound body and a sound mind, which is as much as to say, health and virtue, are to be preferred before all other considerations, ought not men, in choosing a business either for themselves or children, to refuse such as are unwholesome for the body, and such as make a man too dependent, too much obliged to please others, and too much subjected to their humors in order to be recommended and get a livelihood?

I am about courting a girl I have had but little acquaintance with. How shall I come to a knowledge of her faults, and whether she has the virtues I imagine she has?

Answer. Commend her among her female acquaintance.

The great secret of succeeding in conversation is to admire little, to hear much; always to distrust our own reason, and sometimes that of our friends; never to pretend to wit, but to make that of others appear as much as possibly we can; to hearken to what is said, and to answer to the purpose.

• In vain are musty morals taught in schools
• By rigid teachers and as rigid rules,
• Where virtue with a frowning aspect stands,
• And frights the pupil with her rough commands.
• But woman . . .
• Charming woman can true converts make,
• We love the precepts for the teacher’s sake;
• Virtue in her appears so bright and gay,
• We hear with pleasure and with pride obey.

VII

RULES FOR A CLUB ESTABLISHED FOR MUTUAL IMPROVEMENT1

PREVIOUS QUESTION, TO BE ANSWERED AT EVERY MEETING

Have you read over these queries this morning, in order to consider what you might have to offer the Junto touching any one of them? viz.:

1. Have you met with any thing in the author you last read, remarkable or suitable to be communicated to the Junto, particularly in history, morality, poetry, physic, travels, mechanic arts, or other parts of knowledge?

2. What new story have you lately heard agreeable for telling in conversation?

3. Hath any citizen in your knowledge failed in his business lately, and what have you heard of the cause?

4. Have you lately heard of any citizen’s thriving well, and by what means?

5. Have you lately heard how any present rich man, here or elsewhere, got his estate?

6. Do you know of a fellow citizen who has lately done a worthy action deserving praise and imitation, or who has lately committed an error proper for us to be warned against and avoid?

7. What unhappy effects of intemperance have you lately observed or heard; of imprudence, of passion, or of any other vice or folly?

8. What happy effects of temperance, of prudence, of moderation, or of any other virtue?

9. Have you or any of your acquaintance been lately sick or wounded? If so, what remedies were used, and what were their effects?

10. Whom do you know that are shortly going voyages or journeys, if one should have occasion to send by them?

11. Do you think of any thing at present in which the Junto may be serviceable to mankind, to their country, to their friends, or to themselves?

12. Hath any deserving stranger arrived in town since last meeting, that you have heard of? And what have you heard or observed of his character or merits? And whether, think you, it lies in the power of the Junto to oblige him, or encourage him as he deserves?

13. Do you know of any deserving young beginner lately set up, whom it lies in the power of the Junto any way to encourage?

14. Have you lately observed any defect in the laws of your country, of which it would be proper to move the legislature for an amendment? Or do you know of any beneficial law that is wanting?

15. Have you lately observed any encroachment on the just liberties of the people?

16. Hath any body attacked your reputation lately? And what can the Junto do towards securing it?

17. Is there any man whose friendship you want, and which the Junto, or any of them, can procure for you?

18. Have you lately heard any member’s character attacked, and how have you defended it?

19. Hath any man injured you, from whom it is in the power of the Junto to procure redress?

20. In what manner can the Junto, or any of them, assist you in any of your honorable designs?

21. Have you any weighty affair on hand, in which you think the advice of the Junto may be of service?

22. What benefits have you lately received from any man not present?

23. Is there any difficulty in matters of opinion, of justice, and injustice, which you would gladly have discussed at this time?

24. Do you see any thing amiss in the present customs or proceedings of the Junto which might be amended?

Any person to be qualified [as a member of the Junto], to stand up, and lay his hand upon his breast, and be asked these questions, viz.:

1. Have you any particular disrespect to any present members? Answer. I have not.

2. Do you sincerely declare that you love mankind in general, of what profession or religion soever? Answer. I do.

3. Do you think any person ought to be harmed in his body, name, or goods, for mere speculative opinions or his external way of worship? Answer. No.

4. Do you love truth for truth’s sake, and will you endeavour impartially to find and receive it yourself, and communicate it to others? Answer. Yes.

PROPOSALS AND QUERIES FOR THE CONSIDERATION OF THE JUNTO1

Proposals

That P. S. and A. N. be immediately invited into the Junto.

That all new members be qualified by the four qualifications, and all the old ones take . . .

That these queries, copied at the beginning of a book, be read distinctly at each meeting; a pause between each, while one might fill and drink a glass of wine.

That if they cannot be gone through in one night, we begin the next where we left off; only such as particularly regard the Junto to be read every night.

That it be not hereafter the duty of any member to bring queries, but left to his discretion.

That an old declamation be read without fail every night, when there is no new one.

That Mr. Breintnal’s poem on the Junto be read once a month, and hummed in concert by as many as can hum it.

That in spring, summer, and fall the Junto meet once a month in the afternoon, in some proper place across the river, for bodily exercise.

That in the aforesaid book be kept minutes, thus:

Friday,June 30, 1732.

Present, A. B., C. D., E. F., &c.

That these minutes be read once a year at the anniversary.

That all fines due be immediately paid in, and the penal laws for queries and declamations abolished; only he who is absent above ten times in a year to pay ten shillings toward the anniversary entertainment.

That the Secretary, for keeping the minutes, be allowed one shilling per night, to be paid out of the money already in his hands.

That after the queries are begun reading, all discourse foreign to them shall be deemed impertinent.

When any thing from reading an author is mentioned, if it exceed a line, and the Junto require it, the person shall bring the passage, or an abstract of it, the next night, if he has it not with him.

When the books of the library come, every member shall undertake some author, that he may not be without observations to communicate.

Queries

How shall we judge of the goodness of a writing? Or what qualities should a writing have to be good and perfect in its kind?

Answer. To be good, it ought to have a tendency to benefit the reader, by improving his virtue or his knowledge. But, not regarding the intention of the author, the method should be just; that is, it should proceed regularly from things known to things unknown, distinctly and clearly without confusion. The words used should be the most expressive that the language affords, provided that they are the most generally understood. Nothing should be expressed in two words that can be as well expressed in one; that is, no synonymes should be used, or very rarely, but the whole should be as short as possible, consistent with clearness; the words should be so placed as to be agreeable to the ear in reading; summarily, it should be smooth, clear, and short, for the contrary qualities are displeasing.

But, taking the query otherwise, an ill man may write an ill thing well; that is, having an ill design, he may use the properest style and arguments (considering who are to be readers) to attain his ends. In this sense, that is best wrote, which is best adapted for obtaining the end of the writer.

Can a man arrive at perfection in this life, as some believe; or is it impossible, as others believe?

Answer. Perhaps they differ in the meaning of the word perfection. I suppose the perfection of any thing to be only the greatest the nature of the thing is capable of. Different things have different degrees of perfection, and the same thing at different times. Thus, a horse is more perfect than an oyster, yet the oyster may be a perfect oyster, as well as the horse a perfect horse. And an egg is not so perfect as a chicken, nor a chicken as a hen; for the hen has more strength than the chicken, and the chicken more life than the egg; yet it may be a perfect egg, chicken, and hen.

If they mean a man cannot in this life be so perpect as an angel, it may be true; for an angel, by being incorporeal, is allowed some perfections we are at present incapable of, and less liable to some imperfections than we are liable to. If they mean a man is not capable of being so perfect here, as he is capable of being in heaven, that may be true likewise. But that a man is not capable of being as perfect here, as he is capable of being here, is not sense; it is as if I should say, a chicken, in the state of a chicken, is not capable of being so perfect as a chicken is capable of being in that state.

In the above sense, there may be a perfect oyster, a perfect horse, a perfect ship; why not a perfect man—that is, as perfect as his present nature and circumstances admit.

Question.

Wherein consists the happiness of a rational creature?

Answer.

In having a sound mind and a healthy body, a sufficiency of the necessaries and conveniences of life, together with the favor of God and the love of mankind.

Q.

What do you mean by a sound mind?

A.

A faculty of reasoning justly and truly in searching after such truths as relate to my happiness. This faculty is the gift of God, capable of being improved by experience and instruction into wisdom.

Q.

What is wisdom?

A.

The knowledge of what will be best for us on all occasions, and the best ways of attaining it.

Q.

Is any man wise at all times and in all things?

A.

No, but some are more frequently wise than others.

Q.

What do you mean by the necessaries of life?

A.

Having wholesome food and drink wherewith to satisfy hunger and thirst, clothing, and a place of habitation fit to secure against the inclemencies of the weather.

Q.

What do you mean by the conveniences of life?

A.

Such a plenty . . .

Whether it is worth a rational man’s while to forego the pleasure arising from the present luxury of the age, in eating and drinking, and artful cookery, studying to gratify the appetite, for the sake of enjoying a healthy old age, a sound mind, and a sound body, which are the advantages reasonably to be expected from a more simple and temperate diet?

Whether those meats and drinks are not the best, that contain nothing in their natural taste, nor have any thing added by art, so pleasing as to induce us to eat or drink when we are not thirsty or hungry, or after thirst and hunger are satisfied; water, for instance, for drink, and bread or the like for meat?

Is there any difference between knowledge and prudence? If there is any, which of the two is most eligible?

Is it justifiable to put private men to death for the sake of public safety or tranquillity, who have committed no crime? As, in the case of the plague, to stop infection; or, as in the case of the Welshmen here executed?

If the sovereign power attempts to deprive a subject of his right (or, which is the same thing, of what he thinks his right), is it justifiable in him to resist, if he is able?

What general conduct of life is most suitable for men in such circumstances as most of the members of the Junto are? Or, of the many schemes of living which are in our power to pursue, which will be most probably conducive to our happiness?

Which is best, to make a friend of a wise and good man that is poor, or of a rich man that is neither wise nor good?

Which of the two is the greatest loss to a country if they both die?

Which of the two is happiest in life?

Does it not, in a general way, require great study and intense application for a poor man to become rich and powerful, if he would do it without the forfeiture of his honesty?

Does it not require as much pains, study, and application to become truly wise and strictly virtuous, as to become rich?

Can a man of common capacity pursue both views with success, at the same time?

If not, which of the two is it best for him to make his whole application to?

Whence comes the dew that stands on the outside of a tankard that has cold water in it in the summer time?

Does the importation of servants increase or advance the wealth of our country?

Would not an office of insurance for servants be of service, and what methods are proper for the erecting such an office?

VIII

THE BUSY-BODY—NO. I1

Tuesday, February 4, 1728-9.

Mr. Andrew Bradford:

I design this to acquaint you that I, who have long been one of your courteous readers, have lately entertained some thought of setting up for an author myself; not out of the least vanity, I assure you, or desire of showing my parts, but purely for the good of my country.

I have often observed with concern that your Mercury is not always equally entertaining. The delay of ships expected in and want of fresh advices from Europe make it frequently very dull; and I find the freezing of our river has the same effect on news as trade. With more concern have I continually observed the growing vices and follies of my country-folk; and though reformation is properly the concern of every man, that is, every one ought to mend one; yet it is too true in this case, that what is everybody’s business is nobody’s business; and the business is done accordingly. I therefore, upon mature deliberation, think fit to take nobody’s business wholly into my own hands; and, out of zeal for the public good, design to erect myself into a kind of censor morum; purposing, with your allowance, to make use of the Weekly Mercury as a vehicle in which my remonstrances shall be conveyed to the world.

I am sensible I have in this particular undertaken a very unthankful office, and expect little besides my labor for my pains. Nay, it is probable I may displease a great number of your readers, who will not very well like to pay ten shillings a year for being told of their faults. But, as most people delight in censure when they themselves are not the objects of it, if any are offended at my publicly exposing their private vices, I promise they shall have the satisfaction, in a very little time, of seeing their good friends and neighbours in the same circumstances.

However, let the fair sex be assured that I shall always treat them and their affairs with the utmost decency and respect. I intend now and then to dedicate a chapter wholly to their service; and if my lectures any way contribute to the embellishment of their minds and brightening of their understandings, without offending their modesty, I doubt not of having their favor and encouragement.

It is certain that no country in the world produces naturally finer spirits than ours; men of genius for every kind of science, and capable of acquiring to perfection every qualification that is in esteem among mankind. But as few here have the advantage of good books, for want of which good conversation is still more scarce, it would doubtless have been very acceptable to your readers if, instead of an old out-of-date article from Muscovy or Hungary, you had entertained them with some well-chosen extract from a good author. This I shall sometimes do, when I happen to have nothing of my own to say that I think of more consequence. Sometimes I purpose to deliver lectures of morality or philosophy, and (because I am naturally inclined to be meddling with things that do not concern me) perhaps I may sometimes talk politics. And if I can by any means furnish out a weekly entertainment for the public that will give a rational diversion, and at the same time be instructive to the readers, I shall think my leisure hours well employed; and if you publish this, I hereby invite all ingenious gentlemen and others (that approve of such an undertaking) to my assistance and correspondence.

It is like by this time you have a curiosity to be acquainted with my name and character. As I do not aim at public praise, I design to remain concealed; and there are such numbers of our family and relations at this time in the country, that though I have signed my name at full length, I am not under the least apprehension of being distinguished and discovered by it. My character, indeed, I would favor you with, but that I am cautious of praising myself, lest I should be told my trumpeter ’s dead; and I cannot find in my heart at present to say any thing to my own disadvantage.

It is very common with authors, in their first performances, to talk to their readers thus: “If this meets with a suitable reception, or, if this should meet with due encouragement, I shall hereafter publish, &c.” This only manifests the value they put on their own writings, since they think to frighten the public into their applause, by threatening that, unless you approve what they have already wrote, they intend never to write again; when perhaps it may not be a pin matter whether they ever do or no. As I have not observed the critics to be more favorable on this account, I shall always avoid saying any thing of the kind; and conclude with telling you that, if you send me a bottle of ink and a quire of paper by the bearer, you may depend on hearing further from, Sir, your most humble servant,

The Busy-Body.

THE BUSY-BODY—NO. II

Tuesday, February 11, 1728-9.

• All fools have still an itching to deride,
• And fain would be upon the laughing side.

• —Pope.

Monsieur de la Rochefoucault tells us somewhere in his Memoirs that the Prince of Condé delighted much in ridicule, and used frequently to shut himself up for half a day together in his chamber, with a gentleman that was his favorite, purposely to divert himself with examining what was the foible or ridiculous side of every noted person in the court. That gentleman said afterwards in some company, that he thought nothing was more ridiculous in anybody than this same humor in the Prince; and I am somewhat inclined to be of this opinion. The general tendency there is among us to this embellishment, which I fear has too often grossly imposed upon my loving countrymen instead of wit, and the applause it meets with from a rising generation, fill me with fearful apprehensions for the future reputation of my country. A young man of modesty (which is the most certain indication of large capacities) is hereby discouraged from attempting to make any figure in life; his apprehensions of being out-laughed will force him to continue in a restless obscurity, without having an opportunity of knowing his own merit himself or discovering it to the world, rather than venture to oppose himself in a place where a pun or a sneer shall pass for wit, noise for reason, and the strength of the argument be judged by that of the lungs.

Among these witty gentlemen let us take a view of Ridentius. What a contemptible figure does he make with his train of paltry admirers! This wight shall give himself an hour’s diversion with the cock of a man’s hat, the heels of his shoes, an unguarded expression in his discourse, or even some personal defect; and the height of his low ambition is to put some one of the company to the blush, who perhaps must pay an equal share of the reckoning with himself. If such a fellow makes laughing the sole end and purpose of his life; if it is necessary to his constitution, or if he has a great desire of growing suddenly fat, let him eat; let him give public notice where any dull stupid rogues may get a quart of four-penny for being laughed at; but it is barbarously unhandsome, when friends meet for the benefit of conversation and a proper relaxation from business, that one should be the butt of the company, and four men made merry at the cost of the fifth.

How different from this character is that of the good-natured, gay Eugenius, who never spoke yet but with a design to divert and please, and who was never yet baulked in his intention. Eugenius takes more delight in applying the wit of his friends than in being admired himself; and if any one of the company is so unfortunate as to be touched a little too nearly, he will make use of some ingenious artifice to turn the edge of ridicule another way, choosing rather to make himself a public jest than be at the pain of seeing his friend in confusion.

Among the tribe of laughers, I reckon the petty gentlemen that write satires and carry them about in their pockets, reading them themselves in all company they happen into; taking an advantage of the ill taste of the town to make themselves famous for a pack of paltry, low nonsense, for which they deserve to be kicked rather than admired, by all who have the least tincture of politeness. These I take to be the most incorrigible of all my readers; nay, I expect they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself. However, the only favor he begs of them is this, that if they cannot control their overbearing itch of scribbling, let him be attacked in downright biting lyrics; for there is no satire he dreads half so much as an attempt towards a panegyric.

THE BUSY-BODY—NO. III

Tuesday, February 18, 1728-9.

• Non vultus instantis tyranni
• Mente quatit solidâ, neque Auster,
• Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,
• Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus.

• —Hor.

It is said that the Persians, in their ancient constitution, had public schools in which virtue was taught as a liberal art or science; and it is certainly of more consequence to a man, that he has learnt to govern his passions in spite of temptation, to be just in his dealings, to be temperate in his pleasures, to support himself with fortitude under his misfortunes, to behave with prudence in all his affairs and in every circumstance of life; I say, it is of much more real advantage to him to be thus qualified, than to be a master of all the arts and sciences in the world beside.

Virtue alone is sufficient to make a man great, glorious, and happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, as I am, cannot help thinking as I do now, and will acknowledge he deserves the name, without being honored by it. Cato is a man whom fortune has placed in the most obscure part of the country. His circumstances are such as only put him above necessity, without affording him any superfluities; yet who is greater than Cato? I happened but the other day to be at a house in town, where, among others, were met men of the most note in this place. Cato had business with some of them, and knocked at the door. The most trifling actions of a man, in my opinion, as well as the smallest features and lineaments of the face, give a nice observer some notion of his mind. Methought he rapped in such a peculiar manner, as seemed of itself to express there was one who deserved as well as desired admission. He appeared in the plainest country garb: his great coat was coarse, and looked old and threadbare; his linen was homespun; his beard, perhaps, of seven days’ growth; his shoes thick and heavy; and every part of his dress corresponding. Why was this man received with such concurring respect from every person in the room, even from those who had never known him or seen him before? It was not an exquisite form of person or grandeur of dress that struck us with admiration.

I believe long habits of virtue have a sensible effect on the countenance. There was something in the air of his face that manifested the true greatness of his mind, which likewise appeared in all he said, and in every part of his behaviour, obliging us to regard him with a kind of veneration. His aspect is sweetened with humanity and benevolence, and at the same time emboldened with resolution, equally free from diffident bashfulness and an unbecoming assurance. The consciousness of his own innate worth and unshaken integrity renders him calm and undaunted in the presence of the most great and powerful and upon the most extraordinary occasions. His strict justice and known impartiality make him the arbitrator and decider of all differences that arise for many miles around him, without putting his neighbours to the charge, perplexity, and uncertainty of law-suits. He always speaks the thing he means, which he is never afraid or ashamed to do, because he knows he always means well, and therefore is never obliged to blush, and feel the confusion of finding himself detected in the meanness of a falsehood. He never contrives ill against his neighbours, and therefore is never seen with a lowering, suspicious aspect. A mixture of innocence and wisdom makes him ever seriously cheerful. His generous hospitality to strangers according to his ability, his goodness, his charity, his courage in the cause of the oppressed, his fidelity in friendship, his humility, his honesty and sincerity, his moderation, and his loyalty to the government, his piety, his temperance, his love to mankind, his magnanimity, his public-spiritedness, and, in fine, his consummate virtue, make him justly deserve to be esteemed the glory of his country.

• The brave do never shun the light;
• Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers;
• Freely without disguise they love and hate;
• Still are they found in the fair face of day,
• And Heaven and men are judges of their actions.

• —Rowe.

Who would not rather choose, if it were in his choice, to merit the above character, than be the richest, the most learned, or the most powerful man in the province without it?

Almost every man has a strong natural desire of being valued and esteemed by the rest of his species, but I am concerned and grieved to see how few fall into the right and only infallible method of becoming so. That laudable ambition is too commonly misapplied and often ill employed. Some, to make themselves considerable, pursue learning; others grasp at wealth; some aim at being thought witty; and others are only careful to make the most of a handsome person; but what is wit, or wealth, or form, or learning, when compared with virtue? It is true we love the handsome, we applaud the learned, and we fear the rich and powerful; but we even worship and adore the virtuous. Nor is it strange; since men of virtue are so rare, so very rare to be found. If we were as industrious to become good as to make ourselves great, we should become really great by being good, and the number of valuable men would be much increased; but it is a grand mistake to think of being great without goodness; and I pronounce it as certain, that there was never yet a truly great man that was not at the same time truly virtuous.

O Cretico! thou sour philosopher! thou cunning statesman! thou art crafty, but far from being wise. When wilt thou be esteemed, regarded, and beloved like Cato? When wilt thou, among thy creatures, meet with that unfeigned respect and warm goodwill, that all good men have for him? Wilt thou never understand, that the cringing, mean, submissive deportment of thy dependents is (like the worship paid by Indians to the Devil) rather through fear of the harm thou mayest do them, than out of gratitude for the favors they have received of thee? Thou art not wholly void of virtue; there are many good things in thee and many good actions reported of thee. Be advised by thy friend. Neglect those musty authors; let them be covered with dust and moulder on their proper shelves, and do thou apply thyself to a study much more profitable—the study of mankind and thyself.

This is to give notice that the Busy-Body strictly forbids all persons, from this time forward, of what age, sex, rank, quality, degree, or denomination soever, on any pretence, to inquire who is the author of this paper, on pain of his displeasure (his own near and dear relations only excepted).

It is to be observed that if any bad characters happen to be drawn in these papers, they mean no particular person, if they are not particularly applied.

Likewise, that the author is no party-man, but a general meddler.

N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring province.

THE BUSY-BODY—NO. IV

Tuesday, February 25, 1728-9.

• Ne quid nimis.1

In my first paper I invited the learned and the ingenious to join with me in this undertaking, and I now repeat that invitation. I would have such gentlemen take this opportunity (by trying their talent in writing) of diverting themselves and friends and improving the taste of the town. And because I would encourage all wit of our own growth and produce, I hereby promise that whoever shall send me a little essay on some moral or other subject, that is fit for public view in this manner, (and not basely borrowed from any other author,) I shall receive it with candor and take care to place it to the best advantage. It will be hard if we cannot muster up in the whole country a sufficient stock of sense to supply the Busy-Body at least for a twelvemonth.

For my own part, I have already professed, that I have the good of my country wholly at heart in this design, without the least sinister view; my chief purpose being to inculcate the noble principles of virtue and deprecate vice of every kind. But as I know the mob hate instruction, and the generality would never read beyond the first line of my lectures if they were actually filled with nothing but wholesome precepts and advice, I must therefore sometimes humor them in their own way. There are a set of great names in the province, who are the common objects of popular dislike. If I can now and then overcome my reluctance, and prevail with myself to satirize a little, one of these gentlemen, the expectation of meeting with such a gratification will induce many to read me through, who would otherwise proceed immediately to the foreign news. As I am very well assured, the greatest men among us have a sincere love for their country notwithstanding its ingratitude and the insinuations of the envious and malicious to the contrary, so I doubt not but they will cheerfully tolerate me in the liberty I design to take for the end above mentioned.

As yet I have but few correspondents, though they begin now to increase. The following letter, left for me at the printer’s, is one of the first I have received, which I regard the more for that it comes from one of the fair sex, and because I have myself oftentimes suffered under the grievance therein complained of.

“TO THE BUSY-BODY

“Sir:—

You having set yourself up for a censuror morum (as I think you call it), which is said to mean a reformer of manners, I know no person more proper to be applied to for redress in all the grievances we suffer from want of manners in some people. You must know I am a single woman, and keep a shop in this town for a livelihood. There is a certain neighbour of mine, who is really agreeable company enough, and with whom I have had an intimacy of some time standing; but of late she makes her visits so exceedingly often, and stays so very long every visit, that I am tired out of all patience. I have no manner of time at all to myself; and you, who seem to be a wise man, must needs be sensible that every person has little secrets and privacies that are not proper to be exposed even to the nearest friend. Now I cannot do the least thing in the world but she must know about it; and it is a wonder I have found an opportunity to write you this letter. My misfortune is that I respect her very well, and know not how to disoblige her so much as to tell her I should be glad to have less of her company; for if I should once hint such a thing, I am afraid she would resent it so as never to darken my door again.

“But alas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my affliction. She has two children that are just big enough to run about and do petty mischief; these are continually along with mamma, either in my room or shop, if I have ever so many customers or people with me about business. Sometimes they pull the goods off my low shelves down to the ground, and perhaps where one of them has just been making water. My friend takes up the stuff and cries: ‘O thou little wicked mischievous rogue! But, however, it has done no great damage; it is only wet a little’; and so puts it upon the shelf again. Sometimes they get to my cask of nails behind the counter, and divert themselves, to my great vexation, with mixing my ten-penny, and eight-penny, and four-penny together. I endeavour to conceal my uneasiness as much as possible, and with a grave look go to sorting them out. She cries: ‘Don’t thee trouble thyself, neighbour; let them play a little; I ’ll put all to rights before I go.’ But things are never so put to rights, but that I find a great deal of work to do after they have gone. Thus, Sir, I have all the trouble and pesterment of children, without the pleasure of calling them my own; and they are now so used to being here that they will be content nowhere else. If she would have been so kind as to have moderated her visits to ten times a day, and stayed but half an hour at a time, I should have been contented, and I believe never have given you this trouble. But this very morning they have so tormented me that I could bear no longer; for while the mother was asking me twenty impertinent questions, the youngest got to my nails, and with great delight rattled them by handfuls all over the floor; and the other, at the same time, made such a terrible din upon the counter with a hammer that I grew half distracted. I was just then about to make myself a new suit of pinners; but in the fret and confusion I cut it quite out of all manner of shape and utterly spoiled a piece of the first muslin.

Pray, Sir, tell me what I shall do; and talk a little against such unreasonable visiting in your next paper; though I would not have her affronted with me for a great deal, for sincerely I love her and her children, as well, I think, as a neighbour can, and she buys a great many things in a year at my shop. But I would beg her to consider that she uses me unmercifully, though I believe it is only for want of thought. But I have twenty things more to tell you besides all this. There is a handsome gentleman that has a mind (I don’t question) to make love to me, but he can’t get the opportunity to—— O dear! here she comes again; I must conclude, yours, etc.,

Patience.”

Indeed it is well enough, as it happens, that she is come to shorten this complaint, which I think is full long enough already, and probably would otherwise have been as long again. However, I must confess, I cannot help pitying my correspondent’s case; and, in her behalf, exhort the visitor to remember and consider the words of the wise man: “Withdraw thy foot from the house of thy neighbour, lest he grow weary of thee and so hate thee.” It is, I believe, a nice thing, and very difficult, to regulate our visits in such a manner as never to give offence by coming too seldom, or too often, or departing too abruptly, or staying too long. However, in my opinion, it is safest for most people in a general way, who are unwilling to disoblige, to visit seldom, and tarry but a little while in a place, notwithstanding pressing invitations, which are many times insincere. And though more of your company should be really desired, yet in this case, too, much reservedness is a fault more easily excused than the contrary.

Men are subject to various inconveniences merely through lack of a small share of courage, which is a quality very necessary in the common occurrences of life, as well as in a battle. How many impertinences do we daily suffer with great uneasiness, because we have not courage enough to discover our dislike? And why may not a man use the boldness and freedom of telling his friends that their long visits sometimes incommode him? On this occasion, it may be entertaining to some of my readers, if I acquaint them with the Turkish manner of entertaining visitors, which I have from an author of unquestionable veracity, who assures us that even the Turks are not so ignorant of civility and the arts of endearment but that they can practise them with as much exactness as any other nation, whenever they have a mind to show themselves obliging.

“When you visit a person of quality,” says he, “and have talked over your business, or the compliments, or whatever concern brought you thither, he makes a sign to have things served in for the entertainment, which is generally a little sweetmeat, a dish of sherbet, and another of coffee; all which are immediately brought in by the servants, and tendered to all the guests in order, with the greatest care and awfulness imaginable. At last comes the finishing part of your entertainment, which is perfuming the beards of the company—a ceremony which is performed in this manner. They have for the purpose a small silver chafing-dish, covered with a lid full of holes, and fixed upon a handsome plate. In this they put some fresh coals, and upon them a piece of lignum aloes; shutting it up, the smoke immediately ascends with a grateful odor through the holes of the cover. This smoke is held under every one’s chin, and offered as it were a sacrifice to his beard. The bristly idol soon receives the reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in and incorporates the gummy steam that it retains the savour of it, and may serve for a nosegay a good while after.

“This ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing, but it passes among the Turks for a high gratification. And I will say this in its vindication, that its design is very wise and useful. For it is understood to give a civil dismission to the visitants, intimating to them that the master of the house has business to do, or some other avocations, that permits them to go away as soon as they please, and the sooner after this ceremony the better. By this means you may at any time, without offence, deliver yourself from being detained from your affairs by tedious and unseasonable visits; and from being constrained to use that piece of hypocrisy, so common in the world, of pressing those to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in your heart you wish a great way off for having troubled you so long already.”

Thus far my author. For my own part, I have taken such a fancy to this Turkish custom, that for the future I shall put something like it in practice. I have provided a bottle of right French brandy for the men and citron-water for the ladies. After I have treated with a dram and presented a pinch of my best snuff, I expect all company will retire and leave me to pursue my studies for the good of the public.

ADVERTISEMENT

I give notice that I am now actually compiling, and design to publish in a short time, the true history of the rise, growth, and progress of the renowned Tiff Club. All persons who are acquainted with any facts, circumstances, characters, transactions, &c., which will be requisite to the perfecting and embellishment of the said work, are desired to communicate the same to the author, and direct their letters to be left with the printer hereof.

The letter, signed “Would-be-something,” is come to hand.

THE BUSY-BODY—NO. V

Tuesday, March 4, 1728-9.

• Vos, o patricius sanguis, quos vivere fas est
• Occipiti cæco, posticæ occurrite sannæ.

• —Persius.

This paper being designed for a terror to evil-doers, as well as praise to them that do well, I am lifted up with secret joy to find that my undertaking is approved and encouraged by the just and good, and that few are against me but those who have reason to fear me.

There are little follies in the behaviour of most men which their best friends are too tender to acquaint them with; there are little vices and small crimes which the law has no regard to or remedy for; there are likewise great pieces of villany sometimes so craftily accomplished, and so circumspectly guarded that the law can take no hold of the actors. All these things and all things of this nature come within my province as Censor; and I am determined not to be negligent of the trust I have reposed in myself, but resolve to execute my office diligently and faithfully.

And that all the world may judge with how much humanity as well as justice I shall behave in this office, and that even my enemies may be convinced I take no delight to rake into the dunghill lives of vicious men, and to the end that certain persons may be a little eased of their fears and relieved from the terrible palpitations they have lately felt and suffered and do still suffer, I hereby graciously pass an act of general oblivion, for all offences, crimes, and misdemeanors of what kind soever, committed from the beginning of the year 1681 until the day of the date of my first paper, and promise only to concern myself with such as have been since and shall hereafter be committed. I shall take no notice who has (heretofore) raised a fortune by fraud and oppression, nor who by deceit and hypocrisy; what woman has been false to her good husband’s bed, nor what man has, by barbarous usage or neglect, broken the heart of a faithful wife, and wasted his health and substance in debauchery; what base wretch has betrayed his friend and sold his honesty for gold, nor what baser wretch first corrupted him and then bought the bargain;—all this and much more of the same kind I shall forget and pass over in silence; but then it is to be observed that I expect and require a sudden and general amendment.

These threatenings of mine I hope will have a good effect, and if regarded may prevent abundance of folly and wickedness in others, and at the same time save me abundance of trouble; and that people may not flatter themselves with the hopes of concealing their loose misdemeanors from my knowledge, and in that view persist in evil-doing, I must acquaint them that I have lately entered into an intimacy with the extraordinary person who some time since wrote me the following letter; and who, having a wonderful faculty that enables him to discover the most secret iniquity, is capable of giving me great assistance in my designed work of reformation.

“Mr. Busy-Body:

I rejoice, Sir, at the opportunity you have given me to be serviceable to you, and, by your means, to this province. You must know that such have been the circumstances of my life, and such were the marvellous concurrences of my birth, that I have not only a faculty of discovering the actions of persons that are absent or asleep, but even of the devil himself, in many of his secret workings, in the various shapes, habits, and names of men and women; and having travelled and conversed much, and met but with a very few of the same perceptions and qualifications, I can recommend myself to you as the most useful man you can correspond with. My father’s father’s father (for we had no grandfathers in our family) was the same John Bunyan that writ that memorable book, The Pilgrim’s Progress, who had in some degree a natural faculty of second sight. This faculty (how derived to him our family memoirs are not very clear) was enjoyed by all his descendants, but not by equal talents. It was very dim in several of my first cousins, and probably had been nearly extinct in our particular branch, had not my father been a traveller. He lived in his youthful days in New England. There he married, and there was born my elder brother, who had so much of this faculty, as to discover witches in some of their occult performances.

My parents transporting themselves to Great Britain, my second brother’s birth was in that kingdom. He shared but a small portion of this virtue, being only able to discern transactions about the time of, and for the most part after, their happening. My good father, who delighted in The Pilgrim’s Progress, and mountainous places, took shipping, with his wife, for Scotland, and inhabited in the Highlands, where myself was born; and whether the soil, climate, or astral influences, of which are preserved divers prognostics, restored our ancestor’s natural faculty of second sight in a greater lustre to me than it had shined in through several generations, I will not here discuss. But so it is, that I am possessed largely of it, and design, if you encourage the proposal, to take this opportunity of doing good with it, which I question not will be accepted of in a grateful way by many of your honest readers, though the discovery of my extraction bodes me no deference from your great scholars and modern philosophers. This my father was long ago aware of; and, lest the name alone should hurt the fortunes of his children, he, in his shiftings from one country to another, wisely changed it.

Sir, I have only this further to say, how I may be useful to you, and as a reason for my not making myself more known in the world. By virtue of this great gift of nature, second-sightedness, I do continually see numbers of men, women, and children, of all ranks, and what they are doing, while I am sitting in my closet; which is too great a burden for the mind, and makes me also conceit, even against reason, that all this host of people can see and observe me, which strongly inclines me to solitude, and an obscure living; and, on the other hand, it will be an ease to me to disburthen my thoughts and observations in the way proposed to you by, Sir, your friend and humble servant.”

I conceal this correspondent’s name, in my care for his life and safety, and cannot but approve his prudence in choosing to live obscurely. I remember the fate of my poor monkey. He had an ill-natured trick of grinning and chattering at every thing he saw in petticoats. My ignorant country neighbours got a notion that pug snarled by instinct at every female who had lost her virginity. This was no sooner generally believed than he was condemned to death; by whom, I could never learn, but he was assassinated in the night, barbarously stabbed and mangled in a thousand pieces, and left hanging dead on one of my gate-posts, where I found him the next morning.

The Censor observing that the itch of scribbling begins to spread exceedingly, and being carefully tender of the reputation of his country in point of wit and good sense, has determined to take all manner of writing, in verse or prose, that pretend to either, under his immediate cognizance; and accordingly hereby prohibits the publishing any such for the future, till they have first passed his examination and received his imprimatur; for which he demands as a fee only sixpence per sheet.

N. B. He nevertheless permits to be published all satirical remarks on the Busy-Body, the above prohibition notwithstanding, and without examination or requiring the said fees; which indulgence the small wits in and about this city are advised gratefully to accept and acknowledge.

The gentleman who calls himself Sirronio is directed, on the receipt of this, to burn his great book of Crudities.

P. S. In compassion to that young man, on account of the great pains he has taken, in consideration of the character I have just received of him, that he is really good-natured, and on condition he shows it to no foreigner or stranger of sense, I have thought fit to reprieve his said great book of Crudities from the flames, till further order.

THE BUSY-BODY—NO. VIII

Tuesday, March 27, 1729.

• Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
• Auri sacra fames?

• —Virgil.

One of the greatest pleasures an author can have is certainly the hearing his works applauded. The hiding from the world our names while we publish our thoughts, is so absolutely necessary to this self-gratification, that I hope my well-wishers will congratulate me on my escape from the many diligent but fruitless inquiries that have of late been made after me. Every man will own that an author, as such, ought to be tried by the merit of his productions only; but pride, party, and prejudice at this time run so very high, that experience shows we form our notions of a piece by the character of the author. Nay, there are some very humble politicians in and about this city who will ask on which side the writer is before they presume to give their opinion of the thing wrote. This ungenerous way of proceeding I was well aware of before I published my first speculation, and therefore concealed my name. And I appeal to the more generous part of the world if I have, since I appeared in the character of the Busy-Body, given an instance of my siding with any party more than another in the unhappy divisions of my country; and I have, above all, this satisfaction in myself, that neither affection, aversion, nor interest has biassed me to use any partiality towards any man or set of men, but whatsoever I find nonsensical, ridiculous, or immorally dishonest I have and shall continue openly to attack, with the freedom of an honest man and a lover of my country.

I profess I can hardly contain myself, or preserve the gravity and dignity that should attend the censorial office, when I hear the odd and unaccountable expositions that are put upon some of my works, through the malicious ignorance of some, and the vain pride of more than ordinary penetration in others; one instance of which many of my readers are acquainted with. A certain gentleman has taken a great deal of pains to write a key to the letter in my Number IV., wherein he has ingeniously converted a gentle satire upon tedious and impertinent visitants into a libel on some of the government. This I mention only as a specimen of the taste of the gentleman I am, forsooth, bound to please in my speculations; not that I suppose my impartiality will ever be called in question on that account. Injustices of this nature I could complain of in many instances; but I am at present diverted by the reception of a letter which, though it regards me only in my private capacity as an adept, yet I venture to publish it for the entertainment of my readers.

“To Censor Morum, Esq., Busy-Body General of the Province of Pennsylvania and the Counties of Newcastle, Kent, and Sussex upon Delaware.

Honorable Sir:

I judge by your lucubrations that you are not only a lover of truth and equity but a man of parts and learning and a master of science; as such I honor you. Know then, most profound Sir, that I have from my youth up been a very indefatigable student in and admirer of that divine science, astrology. I have read over Scott, Albertus Magnus, and Cornelius Agrippa above three hundred times; and was in hopes, by my knowledge and industry, to gain enough to have recompensed me for my money expended and time lost in the pursuit of this learning. You cannot be ignorant, Sir, (for your intimate second-sighted correspondent knows all things,) that there are large sums of money hidden under ground in divers places about this town and in many parts of the country; but, alas, Sir, notwithstanding I have used all the means laid down in the immortal authors before mentioned, and when they failed, the ingenious Mr. P—d—l, with his mercurial wand and magnet, I have still failed in my purpose. This therefore I send, to propose and desire an acquaintance with you; and I do not doubt, notwithstanding my repeated ill fortune, but we may be exceedingly serviceable to each other in our discoveries; and that if we use our united endeavours the time will come when the Busy-Body, his second-sighted correspondent, and your very humble servant will be three of the richest men in the province. And then, Sir, what may we not do? A word to the wise is sufficient. I conclude, with all demonstrable respect, yours and Urania’s votary,

Titan Pleiades.”

In the evening after I had received this letter I made a visit to my second-sighted friend and communicated to him the proposal. When he had read it he assured me that to his certain knowledge there is not at this time so much as one ounce of silver or gold hid under ground in any part of this province; for that the late and present scarcity of money had obliged those who were living, and knew where they had formerly hid any, to take it up and use it in their own necessary affairs; and as to all the rest which was buried by pirates and others in old times, who were never likely to come for it, he himself had dug it all up and applied it to charitable uses: and this he desired me to publish for the general good. For, as he acquainted me, there are among us great numbers of honest artificers and laboring people who, fed with a vain hope of growing suddenly rich, neglect their business, almost to the ruining of themselves and families, and voluntarily endure abundance of fatigue in a fruitless search after imaginary hidden treasure. They wander through the woods and bushes by day to discover the marks and signs; at midnight they repair to the hopeful spots with spades and pickaxes; full of expectation, they labor violently, trembling at the same time in every joint, through fear of certain malicious demons who are said to haunt and guard such places. At length a mighty hole is dug, and perhaps several cart-loads of earth thrown out; but, alas, no keg or iron pot is found! No seaman’s chest crammed with Spanish pistoles or weighty pieces of eight! Then they conclude that, through some mistake in the procedure, some rash word spoke, or some rule of art neglected, the guardian spirit had power to sink it deeper into the earth and convey it out of their reach. Yet when a man is once thus infatuated, he is so far from being discouraged by ill success that he is rather animated to double his industry, and will try again and again in a hundred different places, in hopes at last of meeting with some lucky hit that shall at once sufficiently reward him for all his expense of time and labor.

This odd humor of digging for money, through a belief that much has been hid by pirates formerly frequenting the river, has for several years been mighty prevalent among us; insomuch that you can hardly walk half a mile out of the town on any side without observing several pits dug with that design, and perhaps some lately opened. Men, otherwise of very good sense, have been drawn into this practice through an overweening desire of sudden wealth and an easy credulity of what they so earnestly wished might be true; while the rational and almost certain methods of acquiring riches by industry and frugality are neglected or forgotten. There seems to be some peculiar charm in the conceit of finding money: and if the sands of Schuylkill were so much mixed with small grains of gold that a man might in a day’s time, with care and application, get together to the value of half a crown, I make no question but we should find several people employed there that can with ease earn five shillings a day at their proper trades.

Many are the idle stories told of the private success of some people, by which others are encouraged to proceed; and the astrologers, with whom the country swarms at this time, are either in the belief of these things themselves, or find their advantage in persuading others to believe them; for they are often consulted about the critical times for digging, the methods of laying the spirit, and the like whimseys, which renders them very necessary to, and very much caressed by, the poor deluded money-hunters.

There is certainly something very bewitching in the pursuit after mines of gold and silver and other valuable metals, and many have been ruined by it. A sea-captain of my acquaintance used to blame the English for envying Spain their mines of silver and too much despising or overlooking the advantages of their own industry and manufactures. “For my part,” says he, “I esteem the Banks of Newfoundland to be a more valuable possession than the mountains of Potosi; and when I have been there on the fishing account, have looked upon every cod pulled up into the vessel as a certain quantity of silver ore, which required only carrying to the next Spanish port to be coined into pieces of eight; not to mention the national profit of fitting out and employing such a number of ships and seamen.”

Let honest Peter Buckram, who has long without success been a searcher after hidden money, reflect on this, and be reclaimed from that unaccountable folly. Let him consider that every stitch he takes, when he is on his shopboard, is picking up part of a grain of gold that will in a few days’ time amount to a pistole; and let Faber think the same of every nail he drives, of every stroke with his plane. Such thoughts may make them industrious, and, in consequence, in time they may be wealthy. But how absurd is it to neglect a certain profit for such a ridiculous whimsey; to spend whole days at the George, in company with an idle pretender to astrology, contriving schemes to discover what was never hidden, and forgetting how carelessly business is managed at home in their absence; to leave their wives and a warm bed at midnight (no matter if it rain, hail, snow, or blow a hurricane, provided that be the critical hour) and fatigue themselves with the violent exercise of digging for what they shall never find, and perhaps getting a cold that may cost their lives, or at least disordering themselves so as to be fit for no business beside for some days after. Surely this is nothing less than the most egregious folly and madness.

I shall conclude with the words of my discreet friend Agricola, of Chester County, when he gave his son a good plantation. “My son,” said he, “I give thee now a valuable parcel of land; I assure thee I have found a considerable quantity of gold by digging there; thee mayst do the same; but thee must carefully observe this, Never to dig more than plough-deep.”

IX

A MODEST INQUIRY INTO THE NATURE AND NECESSITY OF A PAPER CURRENCY1

• Quid asper
• Utile nummus habet; patriæ carisque propinquis
• Quantum elargiri deceat.

• —Persius.

There is no science the study of which is more useful and commendable than the knowledge of the true interest of one’s country; and perhaps there is no kind of learning more abstruse and intricate, more difficult to acquire in any degree of perfection than this, and therefore none more generally neglected. Hence it is that we every day find men in conversation contending warmly on some point in politics which, although it may nearly concern them both, neither of them understands any more than they do each other.

Thus much by way of apology for this present Inquiry into the Nature and Necessity of a Paper Currency. And if any thing I shall say may be a means of fixing a subject that is now the chief concern of my countrymen in a clearer light, I shall have the satisfaction of thinking my time and pains well employed.

To proceed, then:

There is a certain proportionate quantity of money requisite to carry on the trade of a country freely and currently; more than which would be of no advantage in trade, and less, if much less, exceedingly detrimental to it.

This leads us to the following general considerations:

First.A great want of money in any trading country occasions interest to be at a very high rate. And here it may be observed, that it is impossible by any laws to restrain men from giving and receiving exorbitant interest where money is suitably scarce. For he that wants money will find out ways to give ten per cent, when he cannot have it for less, although the law forbids to take more than six per cent. Now the interest of money being high is prejudicial to a country several ways. It makes land bear a low price, because few men will lay out their money in land when they can make a much greater profit by lending it out upon interest. And much less will men be inclined to venture their money at sea when they can without risk or hazard, have a great and certain profit by keeping it at home; thus trade is discouraged. And if in two neighbouring countries the traders of one, by reason of a greater plenty of money, can borrow it to trade with at a lower rate than the traders of the other, they will infallibly have the advantage and get the greatest part of that trade into their own hands; for he that trades with money he hath borrowed at eight or ten per cent, cannot hold market with him that borrows his money at six or four. On the contrary, a plentiful currency will occasion interest to be low; and this will be an inducement to many to lay out their money in lands rather than put it out to use, by which means land will begin to rise in value and bear a better price. And at the same time it will tend to enliven trade exceedingly, because people will find more profit in employing their money that way than in usury; and many that understand business very well, but have not a stock sufficient of their own, will be encouraged to borrow money to trade with when they can have it at a moderate interest.

Secondly.Want of money in a country reduces the price of that part of its produce which is used in trade; because, trade being discouraged by it as above, there is a much less demand for that produce. And this is another reason why land in such a case will be low, especially where the staple commodity of the country is the immediate produce of the land; because, that produce being low, fewer people find an advantage in husbandry or the improvement of land. On the contrary, a plentiful currency will occasion the trading produce to bear a good price; because, trade being encouraged and advanced by it, there will be a much greater demand for that produce, which will be a great encouragement of husbandry and tillage, and consequently make land more valuable, for that many people would apply themselves to husbandry who probably might otherwise have sought some more profitable employment.

As we have already experienced how much the increase of our currency, by what paper money has been made, has encouraged our trade, particularly to instance only in one article, ship-building, it may not be amiss to observe under this head what a great advantage it must be to us as a trading country, that has workmen and all the materials proper for that business within itself, to have ship-building as much as possible advanced; for every ship that is built here for the English merchants gains the province her clear value in gold and silver, which must otherwise have been sent home for returns in her stead; and likewise every ship built in and belonging to the province not only saves the province her first cost, but all the freight, wages, and provisions she ever makes or requires as long as she lasts; provided care is taken to make this her pay-port, and that she always takes provisions with her for the whole voyage, which may easily be done. And how considerable an article this is yearly in our favor, every one the least acquainted with mercantile affairs must needs be sensible; for, if we could not build ourselves, we must either purchase so many vessels as we want from other countries, or else hire them to carry our produce to market, which would be more expensive than purchasing, and on many other accounts exceedingly to our loss. Now as trade in general will decline where there is not a plentiful currency, so ship-building must certainly of consequence decline where trade is declining.

Thirdly.Want of money in a country discourages laboring and handicraftsmen (who are the chief strength and support of a people) from coming to settle in it, and induces many that were settled to leave the country and seek entertainment and employment in other places, where they can be better paid. For what can be more disheartening to an industrious laboring man than this, that after he hath earned his bread with the sweat of his brows, he must spend as much time and have near as much fatigue in getting it as he had to earn it? And nothing makes more bad paymasters than a general scarcity of money. And here again is a third reason for land’s bearing a low price in such a country, because land always increases in value in proportion with the increase of the people settling on it, there being so many more buyers; and its value will infallibly be diminished, if the number of its inhabitants diminish. On the contrary, a plentiful currency will encourage great numbers of laboring and handicraftsmen to come and settle in the country, by the same reason that a want of it will discourage and drive them out. Now the more inhabitants, the greater demand for land (as is said above), upon which it must necessarily rise in value and bear a better price. The same may be said of the value of house-rent, which will be advanced for the same reasons; and by the increase of trade and riches people will be enabled to pay greater rents. Now, the value of house-rent rising, and interest becoming low, many, that in a scarcity of money, practised usury, will probably be more inclined to building, which will likewise sensibly enliven business in any place; it being an advantage not only to brickmakers, bricklayers, masons, carpenters, joiners, glaziers, and several other trades immediately employed by building, but likewise to farmers, brewers, bakers, tailors, shoemakers, shopkeepers, and, in short, to every one that they lay their money out with.

Fourthly.Want of money in such a country as ours occasions a greater consumption of English and European goods, in proportion to the number of people, than there would otherwise be. Because merchants and traders, by whom abundance of artificers and laboring men are employed, finding their other affairs require what money they can get into their hands, oblige those who work for them to take one half or perhaps two-thirds goods in pay. By this means a greater quantity of goods are disposed of, and to a greater value; because working-men and their families are thereby induced to be more profuse and extravagant in fine apparel and the like, than they would be if they were obliged to pay ready money for such things after they had earned and received it, or if such goods were not imposed upon them, of which they can make no other use. For such people cannot send the goods they are paid with to a foreign market without losing considerably by having them sold for less than they stand them in here; neither can they easily dispose of them at home, because their neighbours are generally supplied in the same manner. But how unreasonable would it be if some of those very men who have been a means of thus forcing people into unnecessary expense should be the first and most earnest in accusing them of pride and prodigality. Now though this extraordinary consumption of foreign commodities may be a profit to particular men, yet the country in general grows poorer by it apace. On the contrary, as a plentiful currency will occasion a less consumption of European goods, in proportion to the number of the people, so it will be a means of making the balance of our trade more equal than it now is, if it does not give it in our favor; because our own produce will be encouraged at the same time. And it is to be observed that though less foreign commodities are consumed in proportion to the number of people, yet this will be no disadvantage to the merchant, because the number of people increasing will occasion an increasing demand of more foreign goods in the whole.

Thus we have seen some of the many heavy disadvantages a country (especially such a country as ours) must labor under when it has not a sufficient stock of running cash to manage its trade currently. And we have likewise seen some of the advantages which accrue from having money sufficient or a plentiful currency.

The foregoing paragraphs being well considered, we shall naturally be led to draw the following conclusions with regard to what persons will probably be for or against emitting a large additional sum of paper bills in this province.

1. Since men will always be powerfully influenced in their opinions and actions by what appears to be their particular interest, therefore all those who, wanting courage to venture in trade, now practise lending money on security for exorbitant interest, which in a scarcity of money will be done notwithstanding the law—I say all such will probably be against a large addition to our present stock of paper money, because a plentiful currency will lower interest and make it common to lend on less security.

2. All those who are possessors of large sums of money and are disposed to purchase land, which is attended with a great and sure advantage in a growing country as this is—I say the interest of all such men will incline them to oppose a large addition to our money. Because their wealth is now continually increasing by the large interest they receive, which will enable them (if they can keep land from rising) to purchase more some time hence than they can at present; and in the mean time all trade being discouraged, not only those who borrow of them but the common people in general will be impoverished, and consequently obliged to sell more land for less money than they will do at present. And yet after such men are possessed of as much land as they can purchase, it will then be their interest to have money made plentiful, because that will immediately make land rise in value in their hands. Now it ought not to be wondered at if people, from the knowledge of a man’s interests, do sometimes make a true guess at his designs; for interest, they say, will not lie.

3. Lawyers and others concerned in court business will probably many of them be against a plentiful currency, because people in that case will have less occasion to run in debt, and consequently less occasion to go to law and sue one another for their debts. Though I know some even among these gentlemen that regard the public good before their own apparent private interest.

4. All those who are any way dependents on such persons as are above mentioned, whether as holding offices, as tenants, or as debtors, must at least appear to be against a large addition, because if they do not they must sensibly feel their present interest hurt. And besides these there are doubtless many well-meaning gentlemen and others who, without any immediate private interest of their own in view, are against making such an addition, through an opinion they may have of the honesty and sound judgment of some of their friends that oppose it (perhaps for the ends aforesaid), without having given it any thorough consideration themselves. And thus it is no wonder if there is a powerful party on that side.

On the other hand, those who are lovers of trade and delight to see manufactures encouraged, will be for having a large addition to our currency. For they very well know that people will have little heart to advance money in trade when what they can get is scarce sufficient to purchase necessaries and supply their families with provisions. Much less will they lay it out in advancing new manufactures; nor is it possible new manufactures should turn to any account where there is not money to pay the workmen, who are discouraged by being paid in goods, because it is a great disadvantage to them.

Again. Those who are truly for the proprietor’s interest (and have no separate views of their own that are predominant) will be heartily for a large addition. Because, as I have shown above, plenty of money will for several reasons make land rise in value exceedingly. And I appeal to those immediately concerned for the proprietor in the sale of his lands, whether land has not risen very much since the first emission of what paper currency we now have, and even by its means. Now we all know the proprietary has great quantities to sell.

And since a plentiful currency will be so great a cause of advancing this province in trade and riches and increasing the number of its people, which, though it will not sensibly lessen the inhabitants of Great Britain, will occasion a much greater vent and demand for their commodities here; and allowing that the crown is the more powerful for its subjects increasing in wealth and number, I cannot think it the interest of England to oppose us in making as great a sum of paper money here as we, who are the best judges of our own necessities, find convenient. And if I were not sensible that the gentlemen of trade in England, to whom we have already parted with our silver and gold, are misinformed of our circumstances, and therefore endeavour to have our currency stinted to what it now is, I should think the government at home had some reasons for discouraging and impoverishing this province which we are not acquainted with.

It remains now that we inquire whether a large addition to our paper currency will not make it sink in value very much. And here it will be requisite that we first form just notions of the nature and value of money in general.

As Providence has so ordered it that not only different countries but even different parts of the same country have their peculiar most suitable productions, and likewise that different men have geniuses adapted to a variety of different arts and manufactures; therefore commerce, or the exchange of one commodity or manufacture for another, is highly convenient and beneficial to mankind. As for instance, A may be skilful in the art of making cloth, and B understand the raising of corn. A wants corn, and B cloth; upon which they make an exchange with each other for as much as each has occasion for, to the mutual advantage and satisfaction of both.

But as it would be very tedious if there were no other way of general dealing but by an immediate exchange of commodities, because a man that had corn to dispose of and wanted cloth for it might perhaps, in his search for a chapman to deal with, meet with twenty people that had cloth to dispose of but wanted no corn, and with twenty others that wanted his corn but had no cloth to suit him with; to remedy such inconveniences and facilitate exchange men have invented money, properly called a medium ofexchange, because through or by its means labor is exchanged for labor or one commodity for another. And whatever particular thing men have agreed to make this medium of, whether gold, silver, copper, or tobacco, it is to those who possess it (if they want any thing) that very thing which they want, because it will immediately procure it for them. It is cloth to him that wants cloth, and corn to those that want corn; and so of all other necessaries it is whatsoever it will procure. Thus he who had corn to dispose of and wanted to purchase cloth with it might sell his corn for its value in this general medium to one who wanted corn but had no cloth, and with this medium he might purchase cloth of him that wanted no corn but perhaps some other thing, as iron it may be, which this medium will immediately procure, and so he may be said to have exchanged his cloth for iron; and thus the general change is soon performed to the satisfaction of all parties with abundance of facility.

For many ages those parts of the world which are engaged in commerce have fixed upon gold and silver as the chief and most proper materials for this medium; they being in themselves valuable metals for their fineness, beauty, and scarcity. By these, particularly by silver, it has been usual to value all things else. But as silver itself is of no certain permanent value, being worth more or less according to its scarcity or plenty, therefore it seems requisite to fix upon something else more proper to be made a measure of values, and this I take to be labor.1

By labor may the value of silver be measured as well as other things. As, suppose one man employed to raise corn while another is digging and refining silver; at the year’s end, or at any other period of time, the complete produce of corn and that of silver are the natural price of each other; and if one be twenty bushels and the other twenty ounces, then an ounce of that silver is worth the labor of raising a bushel of that corn. Now if by the discovery of some nearer, more easy or plentiful mines, a man may get forty ounces of silver as easily as formerly he did twenty, and the same labor is still required to raise twenty bushels of corn, then two ounces of silver will be worth no more than the same labor of raising one bushel of corn, and that bushel of corn will be as cheap at two ounces as it was before at one, cæteris paribus.

Thus the riches of a country are to be valued by the quantity of labor its inhabitants are able to purchase, and not by the quantity of silver and gold they possess; which will purchase more or less labor, and therefore is more or less valuable, as is said before, according to its scarcity or plenty. As those metals have grown much more plentiful in Europe since the discovery of America,1 so they have sunk in value exceedingly; for, to instance in England, formerly one penny of silver was worth a day’s labor, but now it is hardly worth the sixth part of a day’s labor; because not less than sixpence will purchase the labor of a man for a day in any part of that kingdom; which is wholly to be attributed to the much greater plenty of money now in England than formerly. And yet perhaps England is in effect no richer now than at that time; because as much labor might be purchased or work got done of almost any kind for one hundred pounds then as will now require or is now worth six hundred pounds.

In the next place let us consider the nature of banks emitting bills of credit, as they are at this time used in Hamburgh, Amsterdam, London, and Venice.

Those places being seats of vast trade, and the payment of great sums being for that reason frequent, bills of credit are found very convenient in business; because a great sum is more easily counted in them, lighter in carriage, concealed in less room, and therefore safer in travelling or laying up, and on many other accounts they are very much valued. The banks are the general cashiers of all gentlemen, merchants, and great traders in and about those cities; there they deposit their money and may take out bills to the value, for which they can be certain to have money again at the bank at any time. This gives the bills a credit; so that in England they are never less valuable than money, and in Venice and Amsterdam they are generally worth more. And the bankers, always reserving money in hand to answer more than the common run of demands (and some people constantly putting in while others are taking out), are able besides to lend large sums, on good security, to the government or others for a reasonable interest, by which they are paid for their care and trouble; and the money, which otherwise would have lain dead in their hands, is made to circulate again thereby among the people. And thus the running cash of the nation is, as it were, doubled; for all great payments being made in bills, money in lower trade becomes much more plentiful. And this is an exceeding great advantage to a trading country that is not overstocked with gold and silver.1

As those who take bills out of the banks in Europe put in money for security, so here and in some of the neighbouring provinces we engage our land. Which of these methods will most effectually secure the bills from actually sinking in value comes next to be considered.

Trade in general being nothing else but the exchange of labor for labor, the value of all things is, as I have said before, most justly measured by labor. Now suppose I put my money into a bank and take out a bill for the value; if this bill at the time of my receiving it would purchase me the labor of one hundred men for twenty days, but some time after will only purchase the labor of the same number of men for fifteen days, it is plain the bill has sunk in value one fourth part. Now, silver and gold being of no permanent value, and as this bill is founded on money, and therefore to be esteemed as such, it may be that the occasion of this fall is the increasing plenty of gold and silver, by which money is one fourth part less valuable than before, and therefore one fourth more is given of it for the same quantity of labor; and if land is not become more plentiful by some proportionate decrease of the people, one fourth part more of money is given for the same quantity of land; whereby it appears that it would have been more profitable to me to have laid that money out in land which I put into the bank, than to place it there and take a bill for it. And it is certain that the value of money has been continually sinking in England for several ages past, because it has been continually increasing in quantity. But if bills could be taken out of a bank in Europe on a land security, it is probable the value of such bills would be more certain and steady, because the number of inhabitants continues to be near the same in those countries from age to age.

For as bills issued upon money security are money, so bills issued upon land are in effect coined land.

Therefore (to apply the above to our own circumstances) if land in this province was falling, or any way likely to fall, it would behove the legislature most carefully to contrive how to prevent the bills issued upon land from falling with it. But as our people increase exceedingly, and will be further increased, as I have before shown, by the help of a large addition to our currency, and as land in consequence is continually rising, so in case no bills are emitted but what are upon land security, the money-acts in every part punctually enforced and executed, the payments of principal and interest being duly and strictly required, and the principal bona fide sunk according to law, it is absolutely impossible such bills should ever sink below their first value, or below the value of the land on which they are founded. In short, there is so little danger of their sinking that they would certainly rise as the land rises if they were not emitted in a proper manner for preventing it. That is, by providing in the act that payment may be made either in those bills or in any other bills made current by any act of the legislature of this province, and that the interest, as it is received, may be again emitted in discharge of public debts; whereby circulating, it returns again into the hands of the borrowers and becomes part of their future payments, and thus, as it is likely there will not be any difficulty for want of bills to pay the office, they are hereby kept from rising above their first value. For else, supposing there should be emitted upon mortgaged land its full present value in bills, as in the banks in Europe the full value of the money deposited is given out in bills; and supposing the office would take nothing but the same sum in those bills in discharge of the land, as in the banks aforesaid the same sum in their bills must be brought in in order to receive out the money; in such case the bills would most surely rise in value as the land rises, as certainly as the bank bills founded on money would fall if that money was falling. Thus, if I were to mortgage to loan-office or bank a parcel of land now valued at one hundred pounds in silver, and receive for it the like sum in bills, to be paid in again at the expiration of a certain term of years, before which my land, rising in value, becomes worth one hundred and fifty pounds in silver, it is plain that if I have not these bills in possession, and the office will take nothing but these bills, or else what it is now become worth in silver, in discharge of my land—I say it appears plain that those bills will now be worth one hundred and fifty pounds in silver to the possessor, and if I can purchase them for less, in order to redeem my land, I shall by so much be a gainer.

I need not say any thing to convince the judicious that our bills have not yet sunk, though there is and has been some difference between them and silver; because it is evident that that difference is occasioned by the scarcity of the latter, which is now become a merchandise, rising and falling like other commodities as there is a greater or less demand for it or as it is more or less plenty.

Yet farther, in order to make a true estimate of the value of money we must distinguish between money as it is bullion, which is merchandise, and as by being coined it is made a currency. For its value as a merchandise and its value as a currency are two distinct things, and each may possibly rise and fall in some degree independent of the other. Thus, if the quantity of bullion increases in a country, it will proportionably decrease in value; but if at the same time the quantity of current coin should decrease (supposing payments may not be made in bullion), what coin there is will rise in value as a currency—that is people will give more labor in manufactures for a certain sum of ready money.

In the same manner must we consider a paper currency founded on land, as it is land, and as it is a currency.

Money as bullion or as land is valuable by so much labor as it costs to procure that bullion or land.

Money as a currency has an additional value by so much time and labor as it saves in the exchange of commodities.

If as a currency it saves one fourth part of the time and labor of a country, it has on that account one fourth added to its original value.

When there is no money in a country all commerce must be by exchange.1 Now if it takes one fourth part of the time and labor of a country to exchange or get their commodities exchanged; then in computing their value that labor of exchanging must be added to the labor of manufacturing those commodities. But if that time or labor is saved by introducing money sufficient, then the additional value on account of the labor of exchanging may be abated, and things sold for only the value of the labor in making them, because the people may now in the same time make one fourth more in quantity of manufactures than they could before.

From these considerations it may be gathered that in all the degrees between having no money in a country and money sufficient for the trade, it will rise and fall in value as a currency in proportion to the decrease or increase of its quantity. And if there may be at some time more than enough, the overplus will have no effect towards making the currency as a currency of less value than when there was but enough, because such overplus will not be used in trade but be some other way disposed of.

If we inquire how much per cent interest ought to be required upon the loan of these bills, we must consider what is the natural standard of usury. And this appears to be, where the security is undoubted, at least the rent of so much land as the money lent will buy. For it cannot be expected that any man will lend his money for less than it would fetch him in as rent if he laid it out in land, which is the most secure property in the world. But if the security is casual, then a kind of insurance must be interwoven with the simple natural interest, which may advance the usury very conscionably to any height below the principal itself. Now among us, if the value of land is twenty years’ purchase, five per cent is the just rate of interest for money lent on undoubted security. Yet if money grows scarce in a country it becomes more difficult for people to make punctual payments of what they borrow, money being hard to be raised; likewise, trade being discouraged and business impeded for want of a currency, abundance of people must be in declining circumstances, and by these means security is more precarious than where money is plenty. On such accounts it is no wonder if people ask a greater interest for their money than the natural interest; and what is above is to be looked upon as a kind of premium for the insurance of those uncertainties, as they are greater or less. Thus we always see that where money is scarce interest is high, and low where it is plenty. Now it is certainly the advantage of a country to make interest as low as possible, as I have already shown; and this can be done no other way than by making money plentiful. And since in emitting paper money among us the office has the best of security, the titles to the land being all skilfully and strictly examined and ascertained; and as it is only permitting the people by law to coin their own land, which costs the government nothing, the interest being more than enough to pay the charges of printing, officers’ fees, &c., I cannot see any good reason why four per cent to the loan-office should not be thought fully sufficient. As a low interest may incline more to take money out, it will become more plentiful in trade; and this may bring down the common usury, in which security is more dubious, to the pitch it is determined at by law.

If it should be objected that emitting it at so low an interest and on such easy terms will occasion more to be taken out than the trade of the country really requires, it may be answered that, as has already been shown, there can never be so much of it emitted as to make it fall below the land it is founded on; because no man in his senses will mortgage his estate for what is of no more value to him than that he has mortgaged, especially if the possession of what he receives is more precarious than of what he mortgages, as that of paper money is when compared to land. And if it should ever become so plenty by indiscreet persons continuing to take out a large overplus above what is necessary in trade so as to make people imagine it would become by that means of less value than their mortgaged lands, they would immediately of course begin to pay it in again to the office to redeem their land, and continue to do so till there was no more left in trade than was absolutely necessary. And thus the proportion would find itself (though there were a million too much in the office to be let out) without giving any one the trouble of calculation.

It may, perhaps, be objected to what I have written concerning the advantages of a large addition to our currency, that if the people of this province increase and husbandry is more followed we shall overstock the markets with our produce of flour, &c. To this it may be answered that we can never have too many people (nor too much money). For when one branch of trade or business is overstocked with hands, there are the more to spare to be employed in another. So if raising wheat proves dull, more may (if there is money to support and carry on new manufactures) proceed to the raising and manufacturing of hemp, silk, iron, and many other things the country is very capable of, for which we only want people to work and money to pay them with.

Upon the whole it may be observed that it is the highest interest of a trading country in general to make money plentiful, and that it can be a disadvantage to none that have honest designs. It cannot hurt even the usurers, though it should sink what they receive as interest, because they will be proportionably more secure in what they lend, or they will have an opportunity of employing their money to greater advantage to themselves as well as to the country. Neither can it hurt those merchants who have great sums outstanding in debts in the country, and seem on that account to have the most plausible reason to fear it; to wit, because a large addition being made to our currency will increase the demand of our exporting produce, and by that means raise the price of it, so that they will not be able to purchase so much bread or flour with one hundred pounds when they shall receive it after such an addition as they now can and may if there is no addition. I say it cannot hurt even such, because they will get in their debts just in exact proportion so much the easier and sooner as the money becomes plentier; and therefore, considering the interest and trouble saved, they will not be losers, because it only sinks in value as a currency proportionally as it becomes more plenty. It cannot hurt the interest of Great Britain, as has been shown, and it will greatly advance the interest of the proprietor. It will be an advantage to every industrious tradesman, &c., because his business will be carried on more freely and trade be universally enlivened by it. And as more business in all manufactures will be done by so much as the labor and time spent in exchange is saved, the country in general will grow so much the richer.

It is nothing to the purpose to object the wretched fall of the bills in New England and South Carolina, unless it might be made evident that their currency was emitted with the same prudence and on such good security as ours is; and it certainly was not.

As this essay is wrote and published in haste and the subject in itself intricate, I hope I shall be censured with candor if, for want of time carefully to revise what I have written, in some places I should appear to have expressed myself too obscurely and in others am liable to objections I did not foresee. I sincerely desire to be acquainted with the truth, and on that account shall think myself obliged to any one who will take the pains to show me or the public where I am mistaken in my conclusions. And as we all know there are among us several gentlemen of acute parts and profound learning who are very much against any addition to our money, it were to be wished that they would favor the country with their sentiments on this head in print; which, supported with truth and good reasoning, may probably be very convincing. And this is to be desired the rather because many people, knowing the abilities of those gentlemen to manage a good cause, are apt to construe their silence in this as an argument of a bad one. Had any thing of that kind ever yet appeared, perhaps I should not have given the public this trouble. But as those ingenious gentlemen have not yet (and I doubt never will) think it worth their concern to enlighten the minds of their erring countrymen in this particular, I think it would be highly commendable in every one of us more fully to bend our minds to the study of what is the true interest of Pennsylvania; whereby we may be enabled not only to reason pertinently with one another; but, if occasion requires, to transmit home such clear representations as must inevitably convince our superiors of the reasonableness and integrity of our designs.1

Philadelphia, April 3, 1729.

X

DIALOGUE CONCERNING VIRTUE AND PLEASURE2

Philocles.—

My friend Horatio! I am very glad to see you. Prithee, how came such a man as you alone? And musing too? What misfortune in your pleasures has sent you to philosophy for relief?

Horatio.—

You guess very right, my dear Philocles; we pleasure-hunters are never without them; and yet, so enchanting is the game, we cannot quit the chase. How calm and undisturbed is your life! How free from present embarrassments and future cares! I know you love me and look with compassion upon my conduct; show me then the path which leads up to that constant and invariable good which I have heard you so beautifully describe and which you seem so fully to possess.

Phil.—

There are few men in the world I value more than you, Horatio; for amidst all your foibles and painful pursuits of pleasure I have oft observed in you an honest heart and a mind strongly bent towards virtue. I wish, from my soul, I could assist you in acting steadily the part of a reasonable creature, for if you would not think it a paradox I should tell you I love you better than you do yourself.

Hor.—

A paradox indeed! Better than I do myself! When I love my dear self so well that I love every thing else for my own sake.

Phil.—

He only loves himself well who rightly and judiciously loves himself.

Hor.—

What do you mean by that, Philocles? You men of reason and virtue are always dealing in mysteries, though you laugh at them when the church makes them. I think he loves himself very well and very judiciously too, as you call it, who allows himself to do whatever he pleases.

Phil.—

What, though it be to the ruin and destruction of that very self which he loves so well? That man alone loves himself rightly who procures the greatest possible good to himself through the whole of his existence, and so pursues pleasure as not to give for it more than it is worth.

Hor.—

That depends all upon opinion. Who shall judge what the pleasure is worth? Suppose a pleasing form of the fair kind strikes me so much that I can enjoy nothing without the enjoyment of that one object; or that pleasure in general is so favorite a mistress that I will take her as men do their wives, for better, for worse, minding no consequences nor regarding what is to come. Why should I not do it?

Phil.—

Suppose, Horatio, that a friend of yours entered into the world about two-and-twenty, with a healthful, vigorous body, and a fair, plentiful estate of about five hundred pounds a year, and yet before he had reached thirty should, by following his own pleasures and not as you duly regarding consequences, have run out of his estate and disabled his body to that degree that he had neither the means nor capacity of enjoyment left, nor any thing else to do but wisely shoot himself through the head to be at rest, what would you say to this unfortunate man’s conduct? Is it wrong by opinion or fancy only? Or is there really a right and wrong in the case? Is not one opinion of life and action juster than another? Or one sort of conduct preferable to another? Or does that miserable son of pleasure appear as reasonable and lovely a being in your eyes as a man who by prudently and rightly gratifying his natural passions had preserved his body in full health and his estate entire, and enjoyed both to a good old age, and then died with a thankful heart for the good things he had received, and with an entire submission to the will of Him who first called him into being? Say, Horatio, are these men equally wise and happy? And is every thing to be measured by mere fancy and opinion, without considering whether that fancy or opinion be right?

Hor.—

Hardly so neither, I think; yet sure the wise and good Author of nature could never make us to plague us. He could never give us passions on purpose to subdue and conquer them, nor produce this self of mine, or any other self, only that it may be denied, for that is denying the works of the great Creator himself. Self-denial, then, which is what I suppose you mean by prudence, seems to me not only absurd, but very dishonorable to that Supreme Wisdom and Goodness which is supposed to make so ridiculous and contradictory a creature that must be always fighting with himself in order to be at rest, and undergo voluntary hardships in order to be happy. Are we created sick only to be commanded to be sound? Are we born under one law, our passions, and yet bound to another, that of reason? Answer me, Philocles, for I am warmly concerned for the honor of Nature, the mother of us all.

Phil.—

I find, Horatio, my two characters have affrighted you, so that you decline the trial of what is good by reason, and had rather make a bold attack upon Providence, the usual way of you gentlemen of fashion, who, when by living in defiance of the eternal rules of reason you have plunged yourselves into a thousand difficulties, endeavour to make yourselves easy by throwing the burden upon Nature. You are, Horatio, in a very miserable condition indeed, for you say you cannot be happy if you control your passions, and you feel yourself miserable by an unrestrained gratification of them, so that here is evil, irremediable evil, either way.

Hor.—

That is very true; at least it appears so to me. Pray what have you to say, Philocles, in honor of Nature or Providence? Methinks I am in pain for her. How do you rescue her, poor lady?

Phil.—

This, my dear Horatio, I have to say: that what you find fault with and clamor against as the most terrible evil in the world, self-denial, is really the greatest good and the highest self-gratification. If indeed you use the word in the sense of some weak moralists and much weaker divines, you will have just reason to laugh at it; but if you take it as understood by philosophers and men of sense, you will presently see her charms and fly to her embraces, notwithstanding her demure looks, as absolutely necessary to produce even your own darling sole good, pleasure, for self-denial is never a duty or a reasonable action but as it is a natural means of procuring more pleasure than you can taste without it; so that this grave, saint-like guide to happiness, as rough and dreadful as she has been made to appear, is in truth the kindest and most beautiful mistress in the world.

Hor.—

Prithee, Philocles, do not wrap yourself in allegory and metaphor. Why do you tease me thus? I long to be satisfied what is this philosophical self-denial, the necessity and reason of it; I am impatient and all on fire. Explain therefore in your beautiful, natural, easy way of reasoning what I am to understand by this grave lady of yours with so forbidding, downcast looks and yet so absolutely necessary to my pleasures. I stand to embrace her, for, you know, pleasure I court under all shapes and forms.

Phil.—

Attend then and you will see the reason of this philosophical self-denial. There can be no absolute perfection in any creature; because every creature is derived from something of a superior existence, and dependent on that source for its own existence. No created being can be all-wise, all-good, and all-powerful, because his powers and capacities are finite and limited; consequently whatever is created must in its own nature be subject to error, irregularity, excess, and imperfectness. All intelligent, rational agents find in themselves a power of judging what kind of beings they are, what actions are proper to preserve them, and what consequences will generally attend them, what pleasures they are for, and to what degree their natures are capable of receiving them. All we have to do then, Horatio, is to consider, when we are surprised with a new object and passionately desire to enjoy it, whether the gratifying that passion be consistent with the gratifying other passions and appetites equally if not more necessary to us, and whether it consists with our happiness to-morrow, next week, or next year; for as we all wish to live, we are obliged by reason to take as much care for our future as our present happiness and not build one upon the ruins of the other. But if through the strength and power of a present passion and through want of attending to consequences we have erred and exceeded the bounds which nature and reason have set us, we are then for our own sakes to refrain or deny ourselves a present momentary pleasure for a future constant and durable one. So that this philosophical self-denial is only refusing to do an action which you strongly desire, because it is inconsistent with health, convenience, or circumstances in the world, or in other words because it would cost you more than it was worth. You would lose by it as a man of pleasure. Thus you see, Horatio, that self-denial is not only the most reasonable but the most pleasant thing in the world.

Hor.—

We are just coming into town, so that we cannot pursue this argument any farther at present; you have said a great deal for nature, Providence, and reason; happy are they who can follow such divine guides.

Phil.—

Horatio, good night; I wish you wise in your pleasures.

Hor.—

I wish, Philocles, I could be as wise in my pleasures as you are pleasantly wise; your wisdom is agreeable, your virtue is amiable, and your philosophy the highest luxury. Adieu, thou enchanting reasoner!

A SECOND DIALOGUE BETWEEN PHILOCLES AND HORATIO CONCERNING VIRTUE AND PLEASURE1

Philocles.—

Dear Horatio, where hast thou been these three or four months? What new adventures have you fallen upon since I met you in these delightful, all-inspiring fields, and wondered how such a pleasure-hunter as you could bear being alone?

Horatio.—

O Philocles, thou best of friends, because a friend to reason and virtue, I am very glad to see you. Do not you remember, I told you then that some misfortunes in my pleasures had sent me to philosophy for relief? But now I do assure you I can, without a sigh, leave other pleasures for those of philosophy; I can hear the word reason mentioned, and virtue praised, without laughing. Do not I bid fair for conversion, think you?

Phil.—

Very fair, Horatio; for I remember the time when reason, virtue, and pleasure were the same thing with you; when you counted nothing good but what pleased, nor any thing reasonable but what you gained by; when you made a jest of mind and the pleasures of reflection, and elegantly placed your sole happiness, like the rest of the animal creation, in the gratification of sense.

Hor.—

I did so; but in our last conversation, when walking upon the brow of this hill, and looking down on that broad, rapid river, and yon widely-extended beautifully-varied plain, you taught me another doctrine; you showed me that self-denial, which above all things I abhorred, was really the greatest good and the highest self-gratification and absolutely necessary to produce even my own darling sole good, pleasure.

Phil.—

True; I told you that self-denial was never a duty but when it was a natural means of procuring more pleasure than we could taste without it; that as we all strongly desire to live, and to live only to enjoy, we should take as much care about our future as our present happiness, and not build one upon the ruins of the other; that we should look to the end and regard consequences, and if through want of attention we had erred and exceeded the bounds which nature had set us, we were then obliged, for our own sakes, to refrain or deny ourselves a present momentary pleasure for a future constant and durable good.

Hor.—

You have shown, Philocles, that self-denial, which weak or interested men have rendered the most forbidding, is really the most delightful and amiable, the most reasonable and pleasant thing in the world. In a word, if I understand you aright, self-denial is in truth self-recognizing, self-acknowledging, or self-owning. But now, my friend, you are to perform another promise, and show me the path that leads up to that constant, durable, and invariable good, which I have heard you so beautifully describe and which you seem so fully to possess. Is not this good of yours a mere chimera? Can any thing be constant in a world which is eternally changing, and which appears to exist by an everlasting revolution of one thing into another, and where every thing without us and every thing within us is in perpetual motion? What is this constant, durable good, then, of yours? Prithee, satisfy my soul, for I am all on fire and impatient to enjoy her. Produce this eternal blooming goddess with never-fading charms, and see whether I will not embrace her with as much eagerness and rapture as you.

Phil.—

You seem enthusiastically warm, Horatio; I will wait till you are cool enough to attend to the sober, dispassionate voice of reason.

Hor.—

You mistake me, my dear Philocles; my warmth is not so great as to run away with my reason; it is only just raised enough to open my faculties, and fit them to receive those eternal truths and that durable good which you so triumphantly boasted of. Begin, then; I am prepared.

Phil.—

I will. I believe, Horatio, with all your skepticism about you, you will allow that good to be constant which is never absent from you, and that to be durable which never ends but with your being.

Hor.—

Yes, go on.

Phil.—

That can never be the good of a creature which when present the creature may be miserable, and when absent is certainly so.

Hor.—

I think not; but pray explain what you mean, for I am not much used to this abstract way of reasoning.

Phil.—

I mean all the pleasures of sense. The good of man cannot consist in the mere pleasures of sense, because when any one of those objects which you love is absent or cannot be come at you are certainly miserable; and if the faculty be impaired, though the object be present, you cannot enjoy it. So that this sensual good depends upon a thousand things without and within you and all out of your power. Can this then be the good of man? Say, Horatio, what think you, is not this a checkered, fleeting, fantastical good? Can that, in any propriety of speech, be called the good of man which even while he is tasting he may be miserable, and which when he cannot taste he is necessarily so? Can that be our good which costs us a great deal of pains to obtain, which cloys in possessing, for which we must wait the return of appetite before we can enjoy again? Or is that our good which we can come at without difficulty, which is heightened by possession, which never ends in weariness and disappointment, and which the more we enjoy the better qualified we are to enjoy on?

Hor.—

The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus? Philocles, show me this good immediately.

Phil.—

I have showed you what it is not: it is not sensual, but it is rational and moral good. It is doing all the good we can to others, by acts of humanity, friendship, generosity, and benevolence; this is that constant and durable good which will afford contentment and satisfaction always alike, without variation or diminution. I speak to your experience now, Horatio. Did you ever find yourself weary of relieving the miserable, or of raising the distressed into life or happiness? Or rather, do not you find the pleasure grow upon you by repetition, and that it is greater in the reflection than in the act itself? Is there a pleasure upon earth to be compared with that which arises from the sense of making others happy? Can this pleasure ever be absent, or ever end but with your being? Does it not always accompany you? Doth not it lie down and rise with you, live as long as you live, give you consolation in the hour of death, and remain with you when all other things are going to forsake you, or you them?

Hor.—

How glowingly you paint, Philocles. Methinks Horatio is amongst the enthusiasts. I feel the passion; I am enchantingly convinced, but I do not know why; overborne by something stronger than reason. Sure some divinity speaks within me. But prithee, Philocles, give me the cause why this rational and moral good so infinitely excels the mere natural or sensual.

Phil.—

I think, Horatio, that I have clearly shown you the difference between merely natural or sensual good and rational or moral good. Natural or sensual pleasure continues no longer than the action itself; but this divine or moral pleasure continues when the action is over, and swells and grows upon your hand by reflection. The one is inconstant, unsatisfying, of short duration, and attended with numberless ills; the other is constant, yields full satisfaction, is durable, and no evils preceding, accompanying, or following it. But if you inquire farther into the cause of this difference, and would know why the moral pleasures are greater than the sensual, perhaps the reason is the same as in all other creatures, that their happiness or chief good consists in acting up to their chief faculty, or that faculty which distinguishes them from all creatures of a different species. The chief faculty in man is his reason, and consequently his chief good, or that which may be justly called his good, consists not merely in action, but in reasonable action. By reasonable actions we understand those actions which are preservative of the human kind and naturally tend to produce real and unmixed happiness; and these actions, by way of distinction, we call actions morally good.

Hor.—

You speak very clearly, Philocles; but, that no difficulty may remain on my mind, pray tell me what is the real difference between natural good and evil and moral good and evil, for I know several people who use the terms without ideas.

Phil.—

That may be. The difference lies only in this: that natural good and evil are pleasure and pain; moral good and evil are pleasure or pain produced with intention and design; for it is the intention only that makes the agent morally good or bad.

Hor.—

But may not a man with a very good intention do an evil action?

Phil.—

Yes; but then he errs in his judgment, though his design be good. If his error is inevitable, or such as, all things considered, he could not help, he is inculpable; but if it arose through want of diligence in forming his judgment about the nature of human actions, he is immoral and culpable.

Hor.—

I find, then, that in order to please ourselves rightly, or to do good to others morally, we should take great care of our opinions.

Phil.—

Nothing concerns you more; for as the happiness or real good of men consists in right action, and right action cannot be produced without right opinion, it behoves us, above all things in this world, to take care that our own opinions of things be according to the nature of things. The foundation of all virtue and happiness is thinking rightly. He who sees an action is right—that is, naturally tending to good, and does it because of that tendency, he only is a moral man; and he alone is capable of that constant, durable, and invariable good which has been the subject of this conversation.

Hor.—

How, my dear philosophical guide, shall I be able to know, and determine certainly, what is right and wrong in life?

Phil.—

As easily as you distinguish a circle from a square, or light from darkness. Look, Horatio, into the sacred book of nature; read your own nature, and view the relation which other men stand in to you, and you to them, and you will immediately see what constitutes human happiness, and consequently what is right.

Hor.—

We are just coming into town, and can say no more at present. You are my good genius, Philocles. You have showed me what is good. You have redeemed me from the slavery and misery of folly and vice, and made me a free and happy being.

Phil.—

Then I am the happiest man in the world. Be you steady, Horatio. Never depart from reason and virtue.

Hor.—

Sooner will I lose my existence. Good night, Philocles.

Phil.—

Adieu, dear Horatio!

XI

PUBLIC MEN1

The following is a dialogue between Socrates, the great Athenian philosopher, and one Glaucon, a private man, of mean abilities, but ambitious of being chosen a senator and of governing the republic; wherein Socrates in a pleasant manner convinces him of his incapacity for public affairs, by making him sensible of his ignorance of the interests of his country in their several branches, and entirely dissuades him from any attempt of that nature. There is also added, at the end, part of another dialogue the same Socrates had with one Charmidas, a worthy man, but too modest, wherein he endeavors to persuade him to put himself forward and undertake public business as being very capable of it. The whole is taken from Xenophon’s Memorable Things of Socrates, Book Third.

“A certain man, whose name was Glaucon, the son of Ariston, had so fixed it in his mind to govern the republic, that he frequently presented himself before the people to discourse of affairs of state, though all the world laughed at him for it; nor was it in the power of his relations or friends to dissuade him from that design. But Socrates had a kindness for him, on account of Plato, his brother, and he only it was who made him change his resolution. He met him, and accosted him in so winning a manner that he first obliged him to hearken to his discourse. He began with him thus:

‘You have a mind then to govern the republic?’

‘I have so,’ answered Glaucon.

‘You cannot,’ replied Socrates, ‘have a more noble design; for if you can accomplish it so as to become absolute, you will be able to serve your friends, you will raise your family, you will extend the bounds of your country, you will be known, not only in Athens, but through all Greece, and perhaps your renown will fly even to the barbarous nations, as did that of Themistocles. In short, wherever you come, you will have the respect and admiration of all the world.’

These words soothed Glaucon, and won him to give ear to Socrates, who went on in this manner. ‘But it is certain that if you desire to be honored you must be useful to the state.’

‘Certainly,’ said Glaucon.

‘And in the name of all the gods,’ replied Socrates, ‘tell me what is the first service that you intend to render the state.’

Glaucon was considering what to answer, when Socrates continued. ‘If you design to make the fortune of one of your friends you will endeavour to make him rich, and thus perhaps you will make it your business to enrich the republic?’

‘I would,’ answered Glaucon.

Socrates replied: ‘Would not the way to enrich the republic be to increase its revenue?’

‘It is very likely it would,’ answered Glaucon.

‘Tell me, then, in what consists the revenue of the state, and to how much it may amount. I presume you have particularly studied this matter, to the end that if any thing should be lost on one hand you might know where to make it good on another, and that if a fund should fail on a sudden you might immediately be able to settle another in its place?’

‘I protest,’ answered Glaucon, ‘I have never thought of this.’

‘Tell me at least the expenses of the republic, for no doubt you intend to retrench the superfluous?’

‘I never thought of this either,’ said Glaucon.

‘You were best then to put off to another time your design of enriching the republic, which you can never be able to do while you are ignorant both of its expenses and revenue.’

‘There is another way to enrich a state,’ said Glaucon, ‘of which you take no notice, and that is by the ruin [spoils] of its enemies.’

‘You are in the right,’ answered Socrates; ‘but to this end it is necessary to be stronger than they, otherwise we shall run the hazard of losing what we have. He therefore who talks of undertaking a war ought to know the strength on both sides, to the end that if his party be the stronger he may boldly advise for war, and that if it be the weaker he may dissuade the people from engaging themselves in so dangerous an enterprise.’

‘All this is true.’

‘Tell me, then,’ continued Socrates, ‘how strong our forces are by sea and land, and how strong are our enemies?’

‘Indeed,’ said Glaucon, ‘I cannot tell you on a sudden.’

‘If you have a list of them in writing, pray show it me; I should be glad to hear it read.’

‘I have it not yet.’

‘I see, then,’ said Socrates, ‘that we shall not engage in war so soon; for the greatness of the undertaking will hinder you from maturely weighing all the consequences of it in the beginning of your government. But,’ continued he, ‘you have thought of the defence of the country; you know what garrisons are necessary and what are not; you know what number of troops is sufficient in one and not sufficient in another; you will cause the necessary garrisons to be reinforced and will disband those that are useless?’

‘I should be of opinion,’ said Glaucon, ‘to leave none of them on foot, because they ruin a country on pretence of defending it.’

‘But,’ Socrates objected, ‘if all the garrisons were taken away there would be nothing to hinder the first comer from carrying off what he pleased; but how come you to know that the garrisons behave themselves so ill? Have you been upon the place? Have you seen them?’

‘Not at all; but I suspect it to be so.’

‘When therefore we are certain of it,’ said Socrates, ‘and can speak upon better grounds than simple conjectures, we will propose this advice to the senate.’

‘It may be well to do so,’ said Glaucon.

‘It comes into my mind too,’ continued Socrates, ‘that you have never been at the mines of silver, to examine why they bring not in so much now as they did formerly.’

‘You say true; I have never been there.’

‘Indeed they say the place is very unhealthy, and that may excuse you.’

‘You rally me now,’ said Glaucon.

Socrates added: ‘But I believe you have at least observed how much corn our lands produce, how long it will serve to supply our city, and how much more we shall want for the whole year, to the end you may not be surprised with a scarcity of bread but may give timely orders for the necessary provisions.’

‘There is a deal to do,’ said Glaucon, ‘if we must take care of all these things.’

‘There is so,’ replied Socrates; ‘and it is even impossible to manage our own families well unless we know all that is wanting and take care to provide it. As you see, therefore, that our city is composed of above ten thousand families, and it being a difficult task to watch over them all at once, why did you not first try to retrieve your uncle’s affairs, which are running to decay, and after having given that proof of your industry you might have taken a greater trust upon you? But now, when you find yourself incapable of aiding a private man, how can you think of behaving yourself so as to be useful to a whole people? Ought a man who has not strength enough to carry a hundred pound weight to undertake to carry a heavier burden?’

‘I would have done good service to my uncle,’ said Glaucon, ‘if he would have taken my advice.’

‘How,’ replied Socrates, ‘have you not hitherto been able to govern the mind of your uncle, and do you now believe yourself able to govern the minds of all the Athenians, and his among the rest? Take heed, my dear Glaucon, take heed lest too great a desire of power should render you despised; consider how dangerous it is to speak and entertain ourselves concerning things we do not understand; what a figure do those forward and rash people make in the world who do so; and judge yourself, whether they acquire more esteem than blame, whether they are more admired than contemned. Think, on the contrary, with how much more honor a man is regarded who understands perfectly what he says and what he does, and then you will confess that renown and applause have always been the recompense of true merit, and shame the reward of ignorance and temerity. If therefore you would be honored, endeavour to be a man of true merit; and if you enter upon the government of the republic with a mind more sagacious than usual, I shall not wonder if you succeed in all your designs.’ ”

Thus Socrates put a stop to the disorderly ambition of this man; but, on an occasion quite contrary, he in the following manner exhorted Charmidas to take an employment.

He was a man of sense and more deserving than most others in the same post; but as he was of a modest disposition he constantly declined and made great difficulties of engaging himself in public business. Socrates therefore addressed himself to him in this manner:

“ ‘If you knew any man that could gain the prizes in the public games, and by that means render himself illustrious and acquire glory to his country, what would you say of him if he refused to offer himself to the combat?’

‘I would say,’ answered Charmidas, ‘that he was a mean-spirited, effeminate fellow.’

‘And if a man were capable of governing a republic, of increasing its power by his advice, and of raising himself by this means to a high degree of honor, would you not brand him likewise with meanness of soul if he would not present himself to be employed?’

‘Perhaps I might,’ said Charmidas, ‘but why do you ask me the question?’ Socrates replied: ‘Because you are capable of managing the affairs of the republic, and nevertheless you avoid doing so, though in quality of a citizen you are obliged to take care of the commonwealth. Be no longer then thus negligent in this matter; consider your abilities and your duty with more attention, and let not slip the occasions of serving the republic and of rendering it, if possible, more flourishing than it is. This will be a blessing whose influence will descend not only on the other citizens, but on your best friends and yourself.’ ”

XII

TO MRS. JANE MECOM1

Philadelphia, 19 June, 1731.

Dear Sister:

Yours of May 26th I received with the melancholy news of the death of sister Davenport, a loss without doubt regretted by all who knew her, for she was a good woman. Her friends ought, however, to be comforted that they have enjoyed her so long, and that she has passed through the world happily, having never had any extraordinary misfortune or notable affliction, and that she is now secure in rest in the place provided for the virtuous. I had before heard of the death of your first child, and am pleased that the loss is in some measure made up to you by the birth of a second.

We have had the smallpox here lately, which raged violently while it lasted. There have been about fifty persons inoculated, who all recovered except a child of the doctor’s, upon whom the smallpox appeared within a day or two after the operation, and who is therefore thought to have been certainly infected before. In one family in my neighbourhood there appeared a great mortality. Mr. George Claypoole (a descendant of Oliver Cromwell) had by industry acquired a great estate, and being in excellent business, a merchant, would probably have doubled it had he lived according to the common course of years. He died first, suddenly; within a short time died his best negro; then one of his children; then a negro woman; then two children more, buried at the same time; then two more; so that I saw two double buryings come out of the house in one week. None were left in the family but the mother and one child, and both their lives till lately despaired of, so that all the father’s wealth, which everybody thought a little while ago had heirs enough, and no one would have given sixpence for the reversion, was in a few weeks brought to the greatest probability of being divided among strangers; so uncertain are all human affairs. The dissolution of this family is generally ascribed to an imprudent use of quicksilver in the cure of the itch, Mr. Claypoole applying it as he thought proper without consulting a physician for fear of charges, and the smallpox coming upon them at the same time made their case desperate.

But what gives me the greatest concern is the account you give me of my sister Holmes’s misfortune. I know a cancer in the breast is often thought incurable; yet we have here in town a kind of shell made of some wood, cut at a proper time, by some man of great skill, (as they say,) which has done wonders in that disease among us, being worn for some time on the breast. I am not apt to be superstitiously fond of believing such things, but the instances are so well attested as sufficiently to convince the most incredulous.

This, if I have interest enough to procure, as I think I have, I will borrow for a time and send it to you, and hope the doctors you have will at least allow the experiment to be tried, and shall rejoice to hear it has the accustomed effect.

You have mentioned nothing in your letter of our dear parents; but I conclude they are well, because you say nothing to the contrary. I want to hear from sister Dowse, and to know of her welfare, as also of my sister Lydia, who I hear is lately married. I intended to have visited you this summer, but printing the paper money here has hindered me near two months, and our Assembly will sit the 2d of August next, at which time I must not be absent; but I hope to see you this fall. I am your affectionate brother,

B. Franklin.

XIII

LETTER FROM CELIA SINGLE1

Mr. Gazetteer:

I must needs tell you that some of the things you print do more harm than good; particularly I think so of the tradesman’s letter which was in one of your late papers, which disobliged many of our sex, and has broken the peace of several families by causing difference between men and their wives. I shall give you one instance, of which I was an eye and ear witness.

Happening last Wednesday morning to be at Mrs. W.’s when her husband returned from market, among other things he showed her some balls of thread which he had bought. “My dear,” says he, “I like mightily those stockings which I yesterday saw neighbour Afterwit knitting for her husband of thread of her own spinning. I should be glad to have some such stockings myself. I understand that your maid Mary is a very good knitter, and seeing this thread in market I have bought it that the girl may make a pair or two for me.” Mrs. W. was just then at the glass dressing her head, and turning about with the pins in her mouth, “Lord, child,” says she, “are you crazy? What time has Mary to knit? Who must do the work, I wonder, if you set her to knitting?” “Perhaps, my dear,” says he, “you have a mind to knit them yourself. I remember, when I courted you, I once heard you say that you had learned to knit of your mother.” “I knit stockings for you!” says she; “not I, truly! There are poor women enough in town who can knit; if you please, you may employ them.” “Well, but my dear,” says he, “you know a penny saved is a penny got, and there is neither sin nor shame in knitting a pair of stockings; why should you have such a mighty aversion to it? And what signifies talking of poor women? You know we are not people of quality. We have no income to maintain us but arises from my labor and industry. Methinks you should not be at all displeased when you have an opportunity of getting something as well as myself.”

“I wonder,” says she, “you can propose such a thing to me. Did not you always tell me you would maintain me like a gentlewoman? If I had married the Captain, I am sure he would have scorned to mention knitting of stockings.” “Prythee,” says he, a little nettled, “what do you tell me of your Captain? If you could have had him I suppose you would, or perhaps you did not like him very well. If I did promise to maintain you as a gentlewoman, methinks it is time enough for that when you know how to behave yourself like one. How long do you think I can maintain you at your present rate of living?” “Pray,” says she, somewhat fiercely, and dashing the puff into the powder-box, “don’t use me in this manner, for I ’ll assure you I won’t bear it. This is the fruit of your poison newspapers; there shall no more come here I promise you.” “Bless us,” says he, “what an unaccountable thing is this? Must a tradesman’s daughter and the wife of a tradesman necessarily be a lady? In short, I tell you, if I am forced to work for a living and you are too good to do the like, there ’s the door, go and live upon your estate. And as I never had or could expect any thing from you, I don’t desire to be troubled with you.”

What answer she made I cannot tell; for, knowing that man and wife are apt to quarrel more violently when before strangers than when by themselves, I got up and went out hastily. But I understand from Mary, who came to me of an errand in the evening, that they dined together very peaceably and lovingly, the balls of thread which had caused the disturbance being thrown into the kitchen fire, which I was very glad to hear.

I have several times in your paper seen reflections upon us women for idleness and extravagance, but I do not remember to have once seen such animadversions upon the men. If we were disposed to be censorious we could furnish you with instances enough. I might mention Mr. Billiard, who loses more than he earns at the green table, and would have been in jail long since had it not been for his industrious wife. Mr. Hustlecap, who, every market-day at least, and often all day long, leaves his business for the rattling of half-pence in a certain alley; or Mr. Finikin, who has seven different suits of fine clothes and wears a change every day, while his wife and children sit at home half naked; Mr. Crownhim, always dreaming over the chequer-board, and who cares not how the world goes with his family so he does but get the game; Mr. Totherpot, the tavern-haunter; Mr. Bookish, the everlasting reader; Mr. Tweedledum, and several others, who are mighty diligent at any thing besides their proper business. I say, if I were disposed to be censorious I might mention all these and more, but I hate to be thought a scandalizer of my neighbours, and therefore forbear; and for your part I would advise you for the future to entertain your readers with something else besides people’s reflections upon one another; for remember that there are holes enough to be picked in your coat, as well as others, and those that are affronted by the satire that you may publish will not consider so much who wrote as who printed, and treat you accordingly. Take not this freedom amiss from

Your friend and reader,

Celia Single.

XIV

LETTER FROM ANTHONY AFTERWIT1

Mr. Gazetteer:

I am an honest tradesman who never meant harm to anybody. My affairs went on smoothly while a bachelor; but of late I have met with some difficulties, of which I take the freedom to give you an account.

About the time I first addressed my present spouse her father gave out in speeches that if she married a man he liked, he would give with her, two hundred pounds in cash on the day of marriage. He never said so much to me, it is true; but he always received me very kindly at his house and openly countenanced my courtship. I formed several fine schemes what to do with this same two hundred pounds, and in some measure neglected my business on that account; but unluckily it came to pass that when the old gentleman saw I was pretty well engaged and that the match was too far gone to be easily broke off, he, without any reason given, grew very angry, forbid me the house, and told his daughter that if she married me he would not give her a farthing. However (as he thought), we were not to be disappointed in that manner, but, having stole a wedding, I took her home to my house, where we were not in quite so poor a condition as the couple described in the Scotch song, who had

• Neither pot nor pan,
• But four bare legs together,

for I had a house tolerably furnished for a poor man before. No thanks to Dad, who I understand was very much pleased with his politic management, and I have since learned that there are other old curmudgeons (so called) besides him who have this trick to marry their daughters and yet keep what they might well spare till they can keep it no longer. But this by way of digression; a word to the wise is enough.

I soon saw that with care and industry we might live tolerably easy and in credit with our neighbours; but my wife had a strong inclination to be a gentlewoman. In consequence of this my old-fashioned looking-glass was one day broke, as she said, no one could tell which way. However, since we could not be without a glass in the room, “My dear,” saith she, “we may as well buy a large fashionable one that Mr. Such-a-one has to sell. It will cost but little more than a common glass, and will look much handsomer and more creditable.” Accordingly the glass was bought and hung against the wall; but in a week’s time I was made sensible by little and little that the table was by no means suitable to such a glass; and a more proper table being procured, some time after my spouse, who was an excellent contriver, informed me where we might have very handsome chairs in the way; and thus by degrees I found all my old furniture stowed up in the garret and every thing below altered for the better.

Had we stopped here it might have done well enough. But my wife being entertained with tea by the good women she visited, we could do no less than the like when they visited us, and so we got a tea-table with all its appurtenances of china and silver. Then my spouse unfortunately overworked herself in washing the house, so that we could do no longer without a maid. Besides this it happened frequently that when I came home at one the dinner was but just put in the pot, and my dear thought really it had been but eleven. At other times when I came at the same hour she wondered I would stay so long, for dinner was ready about one and had waited for me these two hours. These irregularities occasioned by mistaking the time convinced me that it was absolutely necessary to buy a clock, which my spouse observed was a great ornament to the room. And lastly, to my grief, she was troubled with some ailment or other, and nothing did her so much good as riding, and these hackney horses were such wretched ugly creatures that—I bought a very fine pacing mare which cost twenty pounds; and hereabouts affairs have stood for about a twelvemonth past.

I could see all along that this did not at all suit with my circumstances, but had not resolution enough to help it, till lately, receiving a very severe dun, which mentioned the next court, I began in earnest to project relief. Last Monday my dear went over the river to see a relation and stay a fortnight, because she could not bear the heat of the town air. In the interim I have taken my turn to make alterations, namely—I have turned away the maid, bag and baggage (for what should we do with a maid, who, beside our boy, have none but ourselves?). I have sold the pacing mare and bought a good milch cow with three pounds of the money. I have disposed of the table and put a good spinning-wheel in its place, which methinks looks very pretty; nine empty canisters I have stuffed with flax, and with some of the money of the tea-furniture I have bought a set of knitting-needles, for to tell you the truth I begin to want stockings. The fine clock I have transformed into an hour-glass, by which I have gained a good round sum, and one of the pieces of the old looking-glass, squared and framed, supplies the place of the great one, which I have conveyed into a closet, where it may possibly remain some years. In short, the face of things is quite changed, and methinks you would smile to see my hour-glass hanging in the place of the clock. What a great ornament it is to the room! I have paid my debts and find money in my pocket. I expect my dear home next Friday, and as your paper is taken at the house where she is, I hope the reading of this will prepare her mind for the above surprising revolutions. If she can conform herself to this new manner of living, we shall be the happiest couple perhaps in the province, and by the blessing of God may soon be in thriving circumstances. I have reserved the great glass, because I know her heart is set upon it; I will allow her when she comes in to be taken suddenly ill with the headache, the stomach-ache, fainting fits, or whatever other disorder she may think more proper, and she may retire to bed as soon as she pleases. But if I should not find her in perfect health, both of body and mind, the next morning, away goes the aforesaid great glass, with several other trinkets I have no occasion for, to the vendue that very day, which is the irrevocable resolution

Of, Sir, her loving husband, and
Your very humble servant,

Anthony Afterwit.

P. S. I would be glad to know how you approve my conduct.

Answer. I don’t love to concern myself in affairs between man and wife.

XV

SELF-DENIAL NOT THE ESSENCE OF VIRTUE1

It is commonly asserted that without self-denial there is no virtue, and that the greater the self-denial the greater the virtue.

If it were said that he who cannot deny himself any thing he inclines to, though he knows it will be to his hurt, has not the virtue of resolution or fortitude, it would be intelligent enough; but as it stands it seems obscure or erroneous.

Let us consider some of the virtues singly.

If a man has no inclination to wrong people in his dealings, if he feels no temptation to it, and therefore never does it, can it be said that he is not a just man? If he is a just man, has he not the virtue of justice?

If to a certain man idle diversions have nothing in them that is tempting, and therefore he never relaxes his application to business for their sake, is he not an industrious man? Or has he not the virtue of industry?

I might in like manner instance in all the rest of the virtues; but, to make the thing short, as it is certain that the more we strive against the temptation to any vice and practise the contrary virtue, the weaker will that temptation be and the stronger will be that habit, till at length the temptation has no force or entirely vanishes; does it follow from thence that in our endeavours to overcome vice we grow continually less and less virtuous, till at length we have no virtue at all?

If self-denial be the essence of virtue, then it follows that the man who is naturally temperate, just, &c., is not virtuous; but that in order to be virtuous he must, in spite of his natural inclination, wrong his neighbours, and eat, and drink, &c., to excess.

But perhaps it may be said that by the word virtue in the above assertion is meant merit; and so it should stand thus: Without self-denial there is no merit, and the greater the self-denial the greater the merit.

The self-denial here meant must be when our inclinations are towards vice, or else it would still be nonsense.

By merit is understood desert; and when we say a man merits, we mean that he deserves, praise or reward.

We do not pretend to merit any thing of God, for he is above our services; and the benefits he confers on us are the effects of his goodness and bounty.

All our merit, then, is with regard to one another, and from one to another.

Taking, then, the assertion as it last stands:

If a man does me a service from a natural benevolent inclination, does he deserve less of me than another who does me the like kindness against his inclination?

If I have two journeymen, one naturally industrious, the other idle, but both perform a day’s work equally good, ought I to give the latter the most wages?

Indeed lazy workmen are commonly observed to be more extravagant in their demands than the industrious, for if they have not more for their work, they cannot live as well. But though it be true to a proverb, that lazy folks take the most pains, does it follow that they deserve the most money?

If you were to employ servants in affairs of trust, would you not bid more for one you knew was naturally honest, than for one naturally roguish but who has lately acted honestly? For currents, whose natural channel is dammed up, till the new course is by time worn sufficiently deep and become natural, are apt to break their banks. If one servant is more valuable than another, has he not more merit than the other? and yet this is not on account of superior self-denial.

Is a patriot not praiseworthy if public spirit is natural to him?

Is a pacing-horse less valuable for being a natural pacer?

Nor, in my opinion, has any man less merit for having in general natural virtuous inclinations.

The truth is, that temperance, justice, charity, &c., are virtues, whether practised with or against our inclinations, and the man who practises them merits our love and esteem; and self-denial is neither good nor bad, but as it is applied. He that denies a vicious inclination is virtuous in proportion to his resolution: but the most perfect virtue is above all temptation—such as the virtue of the saints in heaven; and he who does a foolish, indecent, or wicked thing, merely because it is contrary to his inclination (like some mad enthusiasts I have read of, who ran about naked, under the notion of taking up the cross), is not practising the reasonable science of virtue, but is a lunatic.

end of vol. i

[2 ]Mémoires de la vie privée du Benjamin Franklyn, écrits par luimême et addressés à son fils; suivis d’un précis historique de sa vie politique, et de plusieurs précis, relatives à ce père de la liberté. A. Paris: chez Buisson, Libraire, rue Hautefeuille No. 20, 1791.

[1 ]See Nos. for May, June, July, September, October, November of 1790, and February, March, May, and June of 1791.

[2 ]The Private Life of the Late Benjamin Franklyn, LL.D., late Minister and Plenipotentiary from the United States of America to France, and originally written by himself. And now translated from the French. To which are added some account of his public life, and a variety of anecdotes concerning him, by M. M. Brissot, Condorcet Rochefoucault, Le Roy, etc., etc. And the Eulogium of M. Fauchet. London: J. Parsons, 1798.

[1 ]“Sept. 7th, Mad. Gautier procured for me the reading of the original manuscript of Dr. Franklin’s Life. There are only two copies—this, and one which Dr. Franklin took with a machine for copying letters, and which is in possession of his grandson. Franklin gave the manuscript to M. le Veillard, of Passy, who was guillotined during the Revolution. Upon his death it came into the hands of his daughter or granddaughter, Mad’lle le Veillard, who is the present possessor of it. It appears evidently to be the first draught written by Franklin, for in a great many places the word originally written is erased with a pen, and a word nearly synonymous substituted in its place, not over the other, but further on, so as manifestly to show that the correction was made at the time of the original composition. The manuscript contains a great many additions made upon a very wide margin; but I did not find that a single passage was anywhere struck out. Part of the work, but not quite half of it, has been translated into French, and from French re-translated into English. The Life comes down no lower than to the year 1758.”—“Life of Romilly, vol. i., p. 408.

[1 ]A letter of introduction to M. Laboulaye, which I had sent him by a subsequent post.

[1 ]The trusty messenger at the Consulate and now the Dean of the representatives of the U. S. in foreign parts.

[2 ]Where I was staying with some friends.

[1 ]In an auction-sale catalogue of Stevens’s Historical Collections, printed in 1881, Stevens thus refers to his unsuccessful effort to acquire this manuscript:

“That his old friend might possess a substantial memorial of Franklin, the grandson left the original draft with the Veillard family. The writer saw it in 1852 at Amiens in the possession of M. de Senarmont, a relative by marriage of M. le Veillard, who had been beheaded in 1794. He spent two days with that amiable gentleman and his family, and was permitted to collate the autograph with Temple Franklin’s printed text of the autobiography. The manuscript was then the undivided property of three persons. They were all there, but on consultation were not willing to sell unless they could obtain a sum worth dividing. A small price, therefore, was no temptation. They did not then care to dispose of the other autograph papers or the portrait by Duplessis. The writer left a standing offer of £200 for it; they wanting £600. As it was not an unpublished paper, the purchase was not completed, though considerable friendly correspondence followed.”

[1 ]For further details the reader is referred to The Life of Benjamin Franklin, written by himself, now first edited, from original manuscripts and from his printed correspondence and other writings, by John Bigelow, second edition, Philadelphia, J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1884; Dr. Samuel A. Green’s Story of a Famous Book, Boston, 1874; and The Lost Papers of Benjamin Franklin, Penn. Monthly for May, 1882.

[1 ]This memorandum, probably in the handwriting of M. le Veillard, immediately precedes the Outline in the MS. The line through the pages was doubtless drawn to show how far the topics had been treated in the autobiography at the time the line was drawn.

[1 ]Here is a bracket in the manuscript to show to what point the topics had been worked up into the autobiography, which terminates at this point.—Ed.

[2 ]To this point the projêt is in a strange and clerkly hand. The remainder is in the handwriting of Franklin.—Ed.

[1 ]The country-seat of the Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. Jonathan Shipley, the “good Bishop,” as Dr. Franklin used to style him. Their relations were intimate and confidential. In his pulpit, and in the House of Lords, as well as in society, the bishop always opposed the harsh measures of the Crown toward the Colonies.

[1 ]That Franklin was anciently the common name of an order or rank in England, see Fortescue’s De Laudibus Legum Angliæ, written about the year 1412, in which is the following passage, to show that good juries might easily be formed in any part of England: “Moreover, the same country is so filled and re-plenished with landed menne, that therein so small a thorpe cannot be found wherein dweleth not a knight, an esquire, or such an 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.”

Chaucer, too, calls his country gentleman a Franklin, and, after describing his good housekeeping, thus characterizes him:

• “This worthy Franklin has a purse of silk,
• Fixed to his girdle, white as morning milk.
• Knight of the Shire, first Justice at the Assize,
• To help the poor, the doubtful to advise.
• In all employments, generous, just, he proved,
• Renowned for courtesy, by all beloved.”

[1 ]The following letter to Franklin from his father, relating mainly to the origin of the Franklin family, was found among Dr. Franklin’s papers:

As to the original of our name, there is various opinions; some say that it came from a sort of title, of which a book that you bought when here gives a lively account. Some think we are of a French extract, which was formerly called Franks; some of a free line, a line free from that vassalage which was common to subjects in days of old; some from a bird of long red legs. Your uncle Benjamin made inquiry of one skilled in heraldry, who told him there is two coats of armor, one belonging to the Franklins of the North, and one to the Franklins of the West. However, our circumstances have been such as that it hath hardly been worth while to concern ourselves much about these things any farther than to tickle the fancy a little. The first that I can give account of is my great-grandfather, as it was the custom in those days among young men too many times to goe to seek their fortunes, and in his travels he went upon liking to a taylor; but he kept such a stingy house, that he left him and travelled farther, and came to a smith’s house, and coming on a fasting day, being in popish times, he did not like there the first day; the next morning the servant was called up at five in the morning, but after a little time came a good toast and good beer, and he found good housekeeping there; he served and learned the trade of a smith. In Queen Mary’s days, either his wife, or my grandmother, by father’s side, informed my father that they kept their Bible fastened under the top of a joint-stool, that they might turn up the book and read in the Bible, that when anybody came to the dore they turned up the stool for fear of the aparitor, for if it were discovered, they would be in hazard of their lives. My grandfather was a smith also, and settled in Eton, in Northamptonshire, and he was imprisoned a year and a day on suspicion of his being the author of some poetry that touched the character of some great man. He had only one son and one daughter; my grandfather’s name was Thomas, my mother’s name was Jane. My father was born at Ecton or Eton, Northamptonshire, on the 18th of October, 1698; married to Miss Jane White, niece to Coll. White, of Banbury, and died in the 84th year of his age. There was nine children of us, who were happy in our parents, who took great care by their instructions and pious example to breed us up in a religious way. My eldest brother had but one child, which was married to one Mr. Fisher, at Wallingborough, in Northamptonshire. The town was lately burnt down, and whether she was a sufferer or not I cannot tell, or whether she be living or not. Her father dyed worth fifteen hundred pounds, but what her circumstances are now I know not. She hath no child. If you by the freedom of your office, makes it more likely to convey a letter to her, it would be acceptable to me. There is also children of brother John and sister Morris, but I hear nothing from them, and they write not to me, so that I know not where to find them. I have been again to about seeing . . ., but have mist of being informed.

“We received yours, and are glad to hear poor Jammy is recovered so well. Son John received the letter, but is so busy just now that he cannot write you an answer, but will do the best he can. Now with hearty love to, and prayer for you all, I rest your affectionate father,

[1 ]Here follow in the margin the words, in brackets, “here insert it,” but the poetry is not given. Mr. Sparks informs us (Life of Franklin, p. 6) that these volumes had been preserved, and were in possession of Mrs. Emmons, of Boston, great-granddaughter of their author. The following are specimens quoted by Mr. Sparks:

“Sent to his namesake upon a Report of his Inclination to Martial Affairs July 7th, 1710:

• “Believe me, Ben, it is a dangerous trade,
• The sword has many marred as well as made;
• By it do many fall, not many rise,
• Makes many poor, few rich, and fewer wise;
• Fills towns with ruin, fields with blood; beside
• ’T is sloth’s maintainer, and the shield of pride.
• Fair cities, rich to-day in plenty flow,
• War fills with want to-morrow, and with woe.
• Ruined estates, the nurse of vice, broke limbs and scars,
• Are the effects of desolating wars.”

• “ ’T is time for me to throw aside my pen,
• When hanging sleeves read, write, and rhyme like men.
• This forward spring foretells a plentous crop;
• For if the bud bear grain, what will the top?
• If plenty in the verdant blade appear,
• What may we not soon hope for in the ear?
• When flowers are beautiful before they ’re blown,
• What rarities will afterward be shown!
• If trees good fruit un’noculated bear,
• You may be sure ’t will afterward be rare.
• If fruits are sweet before they ’ve time to yellow,
• How luscious will they be when they are mellow?
• If first year’s shoots such noble clusters send,
• What laden boughs, Engedi-like, may we expect in the end!”

[1 ]See infra a letter to Samuel Franklin, dated July 12, 1771.

[1 ]Franklin was born in Milk Street and opposite the Old South Church, of which his parents were members, Jan. 6, 1706, old style, or January 17th, new style. He was baptized in the Old South Church the same day.—Ed.

[1 ]Sherburne is now known by the name of Nantucket.—Ed.

[2 ]These lines are from A Looking-Glass for the Times; or, The Former Spirit of New England Revived in this Generation, by Peter Folger, printed in a pamphlet of fourteen duodecimo pages, and bearing date April 23, 1676, while Philip’s war was raging. The author was the only son of John Folger, who came from Norwich in England, and was among the first settlers of Watertown, Mass. The father afterward removed to Martha’s Vineyard, where Peter became thoroughly versed in the Indian tongue, as spoken in that section, so that he could speak and write it with facility. This accomplishment made him useful as an interpreter, and it was through his agency that the island of Nantucket was fairly purchased of the natives and honestly paid for. His wife’s maiden name was Mary Morrill, a servant of the celebrated Hugh Peters, with whom and in the same ship he came to America. During the voyage he became enamoured of her, and purchased her time of her master for £20. She afterward became his wife, the mother of Abiah Folger, and the grandmother, of course, of Dr. Franklin. These lines, immediately preceding those quoted by Dr. Franklin, which are necessary to complete the sentiment intended to be conveyed by the author, are the following:

• “I am for peace and not for war,
• And that ’s the reason why
• I write more plain than some men do,
• That use to daub and lie.
• But I shall cease, and set my name
• To what I here insert,
• Because to be a libeller
• I hate it with my heart.”

[1 ]A more durable monument was erected over the graves of the father and mother of Franklin in 1827 by the voluntary subscriptions of a large number of the citizens of Boston. It is an obelisk of granite twenty-one feet high, which rests on a square base measuring seven feet on each side and two feet in height. The obelisk is composed of five massive blocks of granite, placed one above another. On one side is the name of Franklin in large bronze letters, and a little below is a tablet of bronze, thirty-two inches long and sixteen wide, sunk into the stone. On this tablet is engraven Dr. Franklin’s original inscription, as quoted in the text, and beneath it are the following lines:

The Marble Tablet,

Bearing the above inscription,

Having been dilapidated by the ravages of time,

A number of citizens,

Entertaining the most profound veneration

For the memory of the illustrious

Benjamin Franklin,

And desirous of reminding succeeding generations

That he was born in Boston,

ad MDCCVI.,

Erected this

Obelisk

Over the grave of his parents,

MDCCCXXVII.

[1 ]“This was written from recollection, and it is not surprising that, after the lapse of fifty years, the author’s memory should have failed him in regard to a fact of small importance. The New England Courant was the fourth newspaper that appeared in America. The first number of the Boston News-Letter was published April 24, 1704. This was the first newspaper in America. The Boston Gazette commenced December 21, 1719; the American Weekly Mercury, at Philadelphia, December 22, 1719; the New England Courant, August 21, 1721. Dr. Franklin’s error of memory probably originated in the circumstance of his brother having been the printer of the Boston Gazette when it was first established. This was the second newspaper published in America.”—Sparks.

[1 ]I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me might be a means of impressing me with that aversion to arbitrary power that has stuck to me through my whole life.

[1 ]This was in October, 1723.—Ed.

[1 ]M. Laboulaye presumes Keimer was one of the Camisards or Protestants of the Cevennes, so persecuted by Louis XIV.—Ed.

[1 ]Governor Burnet was appointed governor of the Colony of New York and New Jersey on the 19th of April, 1720. He entered upon the duties of his office in September following. He was a man of scholarly tastes, fond of accumulating books, with a turn for theological speculation, which he indulged in making a commentary upon the three periods contained in the twelfth chapter of Daniel. The governor married a daughter of Cornelius Van Horne, of New York, who died soon. He was transferred to the governorship of Boston in July, 1728. His administration there, however, was not of long duration. He was taken ill from exposure on a fishing excursion, and died on the 7th of September, 1729.

The governor’s interest in theology did not commend him especially to the authorities at home.

The Bishop of London complained that clergymen already provided with his license to preach in the colonies were subject to a new examination, conducted in a somewhat unusual manner by the governor.

“Your method [wrote Richard West, the governor’s brother-in-law, Solicitor-General to the Board of Trade] is to prescribe him a text, to give him a Bible for his companion, and then lock him into a room by himself, and if he does not in some stated time produce a sermon to your satisfaction, you peremptorily refuse to grant him your instrument (permission to preach). The consequence is, the man must starve. . . . I have seen a great many complaints against governors, but then nobody was surprised, because I could always give some pecuniary reason for what they had done. You surely are the first who ever brought himself into difficulties by an inordinate care of souls; and I am sure that makes no part of your commission.”

For an account of this worthy man, see Whitehead’s Contributions to East Jersey History, pp. 156-168.—Ed.

[1 ]In one of the later editions of the Dunciad occur the following lines:

• “Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls,
• And makes Night hideous—answer him, ye owls.”
• Book iii., line 165.

• “And see! the very Gazetteers give o’er,
• Ev’n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more.”
• —Ed.

[1 ]A comedian.—Ed.

[1 ]Watts’s printing-office was situated on the south side of Wild-Court, near the eastern end, and three doors from King’s Head yard.

The press worked by Franklin was bought by Mr. Edward Cox, with other materials, about 1771, and set up in the office belonging successively to Messrs. Cox & Sons, Cox & Wyman, Wyman & Sons, Nos. 74 and 75 Great Queen Street. The press was worked for some time by Messrs. Cox, but, becoming obsolete, lay idle for years. Ultimately, its room being required, it was taken down and passed into the hands of Messrs. Harrild & Sons, printers’ brokers of the period, in whose lumber room it remained until June, 1841, when Mr. J. B. Murray, of New York, interested himself successfully in procuring it to be sent to America. For many years it was installed in the Patent Office at Washington. Changes taking place there, it was claimed by Mr. J. B. Murray, who then deposited it in the Smithsonian Institution at Washington. Subsequently it was removed to the model-room of the Patent Office, where it has since remained, with the exception of a short interval, during which it was shown at the Philadelphia International Exhibition, 1876.

Mr. Murray acquired the Franklin press from Messrs. Harrild & Sons, upon the understanding that they were to be assured, in return, a donation to the London Printers’ Pension Society. In a letter which has been printed Mr. Murray says: “Messrs. Harrild, meanwhile, allowed me the immediate possession of the press, forwarding it to me at Liverpool; and to prove my desire to make a proper return to the Printers’ Pension Fund, I determined to permit the press to be exhibited until a reply should be received from America. It was deposited in the Council Chamber of the Liverpool Medical Institution, and for about three weeks during which the press remained open to the public, it was visited by numerous parties, both English and American. Impressions of a poem by Dr. Franklin, entitled Paper, and also the Twelve Rules which he laid down for his own government in early life, were printed, and about 5,800 copies were freely given among the visitors. In return for these impressions (which were occasionally printed off at the press by the visitors themselves), small voluntary contributions to the Printers’ Pension Fund were received in a box placed near the press. Great interest appeared to be excited about the exhibition of the press and it was suggested to me that a lecture on the life of Dr. Franklin would aid the Society for whose benefit it was being exhibited. I made this suggestion known to the Rev. Hugh M’Neile, who eventually accepted the task, though at the sacrifice of many personal and professional duties.”

“Subsequently,” says Mr. Murray, “I received, through Mr (Petty) Vaughan, a communication from the Philosophical Society of Philadelphia, regretting that they could not, consistently with their constitution, accept the press on the conditions named. I immediately made this known to Messrs. Harrild, as I could not now expect to realize for them the anticipated donations from that society, neither could I in honour claim any further title to the press. To this I received a reply, presenting the press to me, individually, unreservedly, and in a still more handsome manner than when they first consented to part with it. I had the pleasure to remit to the Printers’ Pension Society of London, through Messrs. Harrild, the sum of £150, 9s. 4d., the proceeds of the lecture and of the exhibition of the press.

The sum derived from the Liverpool exhibition was funded by Messrs. Harrild, and in 1854 it had accumulated to an amount sufficient to enable the Committee of the Printers’ Pension Society to initiate the “Franklin Pension” of £10, 10s., per year.—Ed.

[1 ]A printing-house used to be called a chapel by the workmen, and a journeyman, on entering a printing-house, was accustomed to pay one or more gallons of beer “for the good of the chapel.”—Ed.

[1 ]The “plan” referred to as the most “important part” of the Journal, is not found in the manuscript Journal which was left among Franklin’s papers.

[1 ]For the greater convenience of the reader and also to preserve the chronological order which the editor has prescribed for himself in the arrangement of this work, this journal is inserted here, though it was not included in the autobiography.—Ed.

[1 ]One gone to the Baltic, one to the Mediterranean, and one to the West Indies.

[1 ]The impression left by the perusal of Boyle’s Lectures upon Franklin’s youthful mind gives new point to an incident related by Richard Baxter in his Notes on the Life and Death of Sir Matthew Hale.

“His many hard questions, doubts, and objections to me occasioned me to draw up a small tract of the nature and immortality of man’s soul, as proved by natural light alone, by way of question and answers, in which I had not baulked the hardest questions and difficulties that I could think of; conceiving that Atheists and Sadducees are so unhappily witty, and Satan such a tutor, that they are as like to think of them as I. But the good man, when I sent it to him, was wiser than I; and sent me word in his return that he would not have me publish it in English, nor without some alterations of the method, because, though he thought I had sufficiently answered all the objections, yet ordinary readers would take deeper into their minds such hard objections as they never heard before, than the answer, how full soever, would be able to overcome: whereupon, not having leisure to translate and alter it, I cast it by.”

[1 ]Printed in 1725. For a further account of this pamphlet, see infra, letter to Mr. B. Vaughan, dated Nov. 9, 1779.—Ed.

[1 ]The words, “Some foolish intrigues with low women excepted, which from the expense were rather more prejudicial to me than to them,” effaced on the revision, and the sentence which follows in the text written in the margin.—Ed.

[1]In a careful and interesting paper read before the American Philosophical Society by Dr. Patterson, one of its Vice-Presidents, on the 25th of May, 1843, in commemoration of its Centennial Anniversary, will be found much new and important information about the Junto.

When the Philosophical Society was instituted, a book containing some of the questions discussed by the Junto was put into the hands of Dr. William Smith, who selected from it, and published in his Eulogium on Franklin, the following specimens:

“Is sound an entity or body?

How may the phenomena of vapors be explained?

Is self-interest the rudder that steers mankind—the universal monarch to whom all are tributaries?

Which is the best form of government, and what was that form which first prevailed among mankind?

Can any one particular form of government suit all mankind?

What is the reason that the tides rise higher in the Bay of Fundy than in the Bay of Delaware?

Is the emission of paper money safe?

What is the reason that men of the greatest knowledge are not the most happy?

How may the possessions of the Lakes be improved to our advantage?

Why are tumultuous, uneasy sensations united with the desires?

Whether it ought to be the aim of philosophy to eradicate the passions.

How may smoky chimneys be best cured?

Why does the flame of a candle tend upwards in a spire?

Which is least criminal—a bad action joined with a good intention, or a good action with a bad intention?

Is it consistent with the principles of liberty in a free government to punish a man as a libeller when he speaks the truth,”—Ed.

[1 ]This paper was called The Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences and Pennsylvania Gazette. Keimer printed his last number, the 39th, on the 25th day of September, 1729.—Ed.

Its leading articles were an installment of Chambers’ Dictionary, Art. “Air,” a message from Gov. Burnet of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, the reply of the Assembly, and an obituary of the governor, who had just died. The following announcement filled the rest of the sheet:

“It not quadrating with the circumstances of the printer hereof, S. K., to publish this Gazette any longer, he gives notice that this paper concludes his third quarter; and is the last that will be printed by him. Yet, that his generous subscribers may not be baulked or disappointed, he has agreed with B. Franklin and H. Meredith, at the new printing office, to continue it to the end of the year, having transferred the property wholly to them [D. Harry declining it2 ], and probably if further encouragement appears it will be continued longer. The said S. K. designs to leave this province early in the spring or sooner, if possibly he can justly accommodate his affairs with every one he stands indebted to.”

The next number, 40, appeared on the 2d of October, in new type, with the following announcement, the title Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences having been dropped, and with it the feature of the paper which it designated:

“The Pennsylvania Gazette being now to be carryed on by other hands, the reader may expect some account of the method we design to proceed in.

Upon a view of Chambers’ great dictionaries, from whence were taken the materials of The Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences, which usually made the first part of this paper, we find that besides their containing many things abstruse or insignificant to us, it will probably be fifty years before the whole can be gone through in this manner of publication. There are likewise in those books continual references from things under one letter of the alphabet to those under another, which relate to the same subject and are necessary to explain and complete it; these taken in their turn may be ten years distant; and since it is likely that they who desire to acquaint themselves with any particular art or science would gladly have the whole before them in much less time, we believe our readers will not think such a method of communicating knowledge to be a proper one.

However, though we do not intend to continue the publication of those dictionaries in a regular alphabetical method, as has hitherto been done; yet, as several things exhibited from them in the course of these papers, have been entertaining to such of the curious who never had and cannot have the advantage of good libraries; and as there are many things still behind, which, being in this manner made generally known, may perhaps become of considerable use by giving such hints to the excellent natural genius’s of our country, as may contribute either to the improvement of our present manufactures or towards the invention of new ones; we propose from time to time to communicate such particular parts as appear to be of the most general consequence.

As to the ‘Religious Courtship,’ part of which has been retal’d to the publick in these papers, the reader may be informed, that the whole book will probably in a little time be printed and bound by itself; and those who approve of it will doubtless be better pleased to have it entire, than in this broken, interrupted manner.

There are many who have long desired to see a good newspaper in Pennsylvania; and we hope those gentlemen who are able, will contribute towards the making this such. We ask assistance because we are fully sensible, that to publish a good newspaper is not so easy an undertaking as many people imagine it to be. The author of a Gazette (in the opinion of the learned) ought to be qualified with an extensive acquaintance with languages, a great easiness and command of writing, and relating things clearly and intelligibly and in a few words; he should be able to speak of war both by land and sea; be well acquainted with geography, with the history of the time, with the secret interests of princes and states, the secrets of courts, and the manners and customs of all nations. Men thus accomplished are very rare in this remote part of the world; and it would be well if the writer of these papers could make up among his friends what is wanting in himself.

Upon the whole, we may assure the publick, that, as far as the encouragement we meet with will enable us, no care and pains shall be omitted that may make the Pennsylvania Gazette as agreeable and useful an entertainment as the nature of the thing will allow.”

After the publication of two numbers the Gazette was published twice a week, beginning with No. 43. Franklin was only twenty-three years of age when he embarked in this enterprise.—Ed.

[1 ]The following are the spirited remarks here referred to:

“His excellency, governor Burnet, died unexpectedly about two days after the date of this reply to his last message; and it was thought the dispute would have ended with him, or at least have lain dormant till the arrival of a new governor from England, who possibly might or might not be inclined to enter too vigorously into the measures of his predecessor. But our last advices by the post acquaint us that his honor the lieutenant-governor (on whom the government immediately devolves upon the death or absence of the commander-in-chief) has vigorously renewed the struggle on his own account, of which the particulars will be seen in our next. Perhaps some of our readers may not fully understand the original ground of this warm contest between the governor and assembly. It seems that people have for these hundred years past, enjoyed the privilege of rewarding the governor for the time being, according to their sense of his merit and services; and few or none of their governors have complained, or had cause to complain, of a scanty allowance. When the late governor Burnet brought with him instructions to demand a settled salary of 1000 pounds sterling per annum, on him and all his successors, and the Assembly were required to fix it immediately; he insisted on it strenuously to the last, and they as constantly refused it. It appears by their votes and proceedings that they thought it an imposition, contrary to their own charter, and to Magna Charta; and they judged that there should be a mutual dependence between the governor and governed; and that to make the governor independent would be dangerous and destructive to their liberties, and the ready way to establish tyranny. They thought likewise, that the province was not the less dependent on the crown of Great Britain, by the governor’s depending immediately on them, and his own good conduct, for an ample support; because all acts and laws which he might be induced to pass, must nevertheless be constantly sent home for approbation, in order to continue in force. Many other reasons were given, and arguments used in the course of the controversy, needless to particularize here, because all the material papers relating to it have been already given in our public news.

Much deserved praise has the deceased governor received for his steady integrity in adhering to his instructions, notwithstanding the great difficulty and opposition he met with, and the strong temptations offered from time to time to induce him to give up the point. And yet, perhaps, something is due to the Assembly (as the love and zeal of that country for the present establishment is too well known to suffer any suspicion of want of loyalty), who continue thus resolutely to abide by what they think their right, and that of the people they represent; manage all the arts and menaces of a governor, famed for his cunning and politics, backed with instructions from home, and powerfully aided by the great advantage such an officer always has of engaging the principal men of a place in his party, by conferring, when he pleases, so many posts of profit and honor. Their happy mother country will perhaps observe, with pleasure, that though her gallant cocks and matchless dogs abate their natural fire and intrepidity when transported to a foreign clime (as this nation is), yet her sons in the remotest part of the earth, and even to the third and fourth descent, still retain that ardent spirit of liberty, and that undaunted courage, which has in every age so gloriously distinguished Britons and Englishmen from the rest of mankind.”

[1 ]I got his son once £500 [marg. note].

[1 ]By the agreement of dissolution, still extant, it appears that it took place July 14, 1730.—Sparks.

[1 ]Mrs. Franklin survived her marriage over forty years. She died December 19, 1774.—Ed.

[1 ]This library was founded in 1731, and incorporated in 1742. By the addition made to it of the library left by Mr. James Logan, and by annual purchases, the Philadelphia Library now numbers between 70,000 and 80,000 volumes.—Ed.

[1 ]This was a wise application of one of the most cynical precepts of Ovid in his banishment: “Crede mihi, bene qui latuit bene vixit.”—Tristia Elegia, iv., 25. This line was subsequently adopted as his motto by the illustrious author of the Cartesian philosophy.

[1 ]The verses here referred to are thus given as Englished from the version of Hierocles:

“In this place you should collect together the sense of all the foregoing precepts, that so giving heed to them as to the laws of God in the inward judicature of the soul, you may make a just examination of what you have done well or ill. For how will our remembrance reprehend us for doing ill, or praise us for doing well, unless the preceding meditation receive some laws, according to which the whole tenor of our life should be ordered, and to which we should conform the very private recesses of conscience all our lives long? He requires also that this examination be daily repeated, that by continual returns of recollection we may not be deceived in our judgment. The time which he recommends for this work is about even or bed-time, that we may conclude the action of the day with the judgment of conscience, making the examination of our conversation an evening song to God. Wherein have I transgressed? What have I done? What duty have I omitted? So shall we measure our lives by the rules above mentioned, if to the law of the mind we join the judgment of reason.

“What then does the law of the mind say? That we should honor the more excellent natures according to their essential order, that we should have our parents and relations in high esteem, love and embrace good men, raise ourselves above corporal affections, everywhere stand in awe of ourselves, carefully observe justice, consider the frailty of riches and momentary life, embrace the lot which falls to us by divine judgment, delight in a divine frame of spirit, convert our mind to what is most excellent, love good discourses, not lie open to impostures, not be servilely affected in the possession of virtue, advise before action to prevent repentance, free ourselves from uncertain opinions, live with knowledge, and lastly, that we should adapt our bodies and the things without to the exercise of virtue. These are the things which the law-giving mind has implanted in the souls of men, which when reason admits, it becomes a most vigilant judge of itself, in this manner, Wherein have I transgressed? what have I done? and if afterwards she finds herself to have spent the whole day agreeably to the foregoing rules, she is rewarded with a divine complacency. And if she find any thing done amiss, she corrects herself by the restorative of an after admonition.

“Wherefore he would have us keep off sleep by the readiness and alacrity of reason. And this the body will easily endure, if temperately dieted it has not contracted a necessity of sleeping. By which means even our most natural appetites are subjected to the empire of reason.

“Do not admit sleep (says he) till you have examin’d every action of the day. And what is the form of examination? Wherein have I transgress’d? what have I done? what duty have I omitted? For we sin two ways. By doing what we should not, and by not doing what we should. For ’t is one thing not to do well, and another thing to commit evil. One is a sin of omission, and the other of commission.

“For instance, ’t is our duty to pray, but not to blaspheme; to nourish our parents, but not to revile them. He that does the former of these, does what he ought; he that does the latter, what he ought not. Though there is as much guilt in a sin of omission as in a sin of commission.

“He exhorts also that we proceed methodically in our examination from the beginning to the end, leaving nothing out in the middle, which is implied by the word, runover. For oftentimes change of order deceives the judgment, and makes us favorable to our ill actions through disorder of memory. Besides, a daily recollection of our actions begets care and studiousness of conversation, and a sense of our immortality. And this is worth our admiration, that when he bid us recollect everything, yet he added not, Wherein have I done well? or what duty have I perform’d? But he turn’d the memory to what was a less occasion of pride, requiring a scrutiny only of our sins. And as for the judge, he has constituted that which is most just and impartial, and most intimate and domestick, the conscience, right reason, or a man’s self, which he had before caution’d us to stand in awe of above all things. For who can so admonish another as every man can himself? For he that is at his own liberty will use the freedom of nature, and shake off the admonition of others, when he is not minded to follow them. But reason, which is within us, cannot chuse but hear itself. God has set this over us as a guardian, instructor, and schoolmaster. And this the verse makes the judge of the day’s action, acquiesces in its determination whether it condemns or approves itself. For when it reads over what is done in the register of memory, then, looking into the exemplar of the law, it pronounces itself worthy of honor or dishonor. This course, if daily follow’d, perfects the divine image in them that use it, leading them by additions and subtractions to the beauty of virtue, and all attainable perfection. For here end the instructions about civil virtue.”—Ed.

[1 ]This “little book” is dated 1st of July, 1733.

[1 ]Nothing so likely to make a man’s fortune as virtue.—Marg. Note.

[1 ]This is a marginal memorandum.—Ed.

[1 ]The advertisement to the first number of this the most celebrated of almanacs was printed in the Pennsylvania Gazette on the 19th of December, 1732. Though appearing thus late in the season, three editions of No. 1 were sold before the end of January. The advertisement ran as follows:

“Just published, for 1733, An Almanack, containing the Lunations, Eclipses, Planets’ Motions and Aspects, Weather, Sun and Moon’s Rising and Setting, High Water, etc.; besides many pleasant and witty Verses, Jests, and Sayings; Author’s Motive of Writing; Prediction of the Death of his Friend, Mr. Titan Leeds; Moon no Cukold; Bachelor’s Folly; Parson’s Wine and Baker’s Pudding; Short Visits; Kings and Bears; New Fashions; Game for Kisses; Katherine’s Love; Different Sentiments; Signs of a Tempest; Death of a Fisherman; Conjugal Debate; Men and Melons; The Prodigal; Breakfast in Bed; Oyster Lawsuit, etc. By Richard Saunders, Philomat. Printed and Sold by B. Franklin.”

[1 ]This fire company was formed Dec. 7, 1736. It was designed primarily for the security of the property of its members, though they did not limit their usefulness to their own members when their property was not in danger. The Union Fire Company was in active service as late as 1791. In a roll of the companies of that day we find it heading the list, having thirty members, one engine, two hundred and fifty buckets, thirteen ladders, two hooks, no bags, and one eighty-foot rope.

[1 ]See infra, 14th of May, 1743: “A Proposal for Promoting Useful knowledge among the British Plantations in America.”

Though the American Philosophical Society was not, strictly speaking, the organic continuation of the Junto, there can be no doubt that the plan of establishing it had been often brought before the Junto for consideration, for we know that it was the practice of Franklin, when he had new projects to propose, to have them first discussed in the Club. But a stronger evidence still of the part which they took in forming the new institution is presented by the fact that of the nine original members of the Philosophical Society, six, including the three officers, are known to have belonged to the Junto,—namely, Franklin, Hopkinson, Coleman, Godfrey, Rhoads, and Parsons.—Ed.

[1 ]See the votes.—Marg. note.

[1 ]The old “Academy,” as the building of which Franklin speaks was called, has given place to a new and tasteful edifice. For many years the new building had been occupied as an academy, preparatory to the University, commodious buildings for which, were erected in South Ninth Street, near Chestnut.—Ed.

[1 ]See the votes to have this more correctly.—Marg. note.

[1 ]See votes.—Marg. note.

[1 ]From the MS. journal of Mr. Andrew Ellicott, I have been kindly favored by Mr. J. C. G. Kennedy, of Washington, one of his descendants, with the following extract which was written three years before the preceding paragraph in the autobiography:

“I found him (Franklin) in his little room among his papers. He received me very politely and immediately entered into conversation about the western country. His room makes a singular appearance, being filled with old philosophical instruments, papers, boxes, tables and stools. About ten o’clock he placed some water on the fire but not being expert through his great age, I desired him to give me the pleasure of assisting him. He thanked me and replied that he ever made it a point to wait upon himself and although he began to find himself infirm, he was determined not to increase his infirmities by giving way to them. After the water was hot I observed his object was to shave himself, which operation he performed without a glass and with great expedition. I asked him if he never employed a barber, he answered: ‘No, I think happiness does not consist so much in particular pieces of good fortune which perhaps accidentally fall to a man’s lot, as to be able in his old age to do those little things which, being unable to perform himself, would be done by others with a sparing hand.’ ”

[1 ]See infra, July, 1754, “Papers Relating to a Plan of Union of the Colonies.”—Ed.

[1 ]My acts in Morris’s time, military, etc.—Marg. note.

[1 ]This dialogue and the militia act are in the Gentleman’s Magazine for February and March, 1756.—Marg. note.

[1 ]For a fuller account of his election see, infra, letter to Governor William Franklin, 19th Dec., 1767.—Ed.

[1 ]The many unanimous resolves of the Assembly—what date?—Marg. note.

[1 ]For another account of this conversation with Granville see infra letter from Franklin to Mr. James Bowdoin, dated 13 January, 1772.

[1 ]In reference to Gov’r Denny’s removal, see also a letter which Franklin wrote to his wife while the negotiations here described were progressing, and dated June 10, 1758.

[1 ]First printed in the Gentleman’s Magazine for September, 1780. The author was nineteen years old at the time this letter was written, and was then residing in London, employed as a printer. Referring to this asbestos purse in his autobiography, Franklin says: “Sir Hans Sloane came to see me, and invited me to his house in Bloomsbury Square, showed me all his curiosities, and persuaded me to add that to the number; for which he paid me handsomely.”

[1 ]His youngest sister, at this time nearly fifteen years old.

[1 ]There is no reason to suppose that Franklin ever wrote a second part. He was in the twenty-second year of his age when this was written.

[1 ]See Junto Paper of “Good and Evil,” &c.

[1 ]These Rules were drawn up in the year 1728, and designed as general regulations for a Club, called The Junto, consisting of a select number of Franklin’s acquaintances in Philadelphia, whom he had induced to associate and hold weekly meetings for mutual improvement.

[1 ]The “Queries” appear to have been the author’s first thoughts, written down without regard to method, and in parts are unfinished.

[1 ]These papers had their origin in a desire to punish Keimer for forestalling a project Franklin had formed for the establishment of a newspaper in Philadelphia. See supra, p. 176. They were contributed to the Weekly Mercury, the first newspaper published in Philadelphia, and accomplished their purpose of breaking down Keimer’s enterprise by giving new interest and popularity to the older print. The Busy-Body papers are the earliest compositions known to have come from Franklin’s pen, and were written in the beginning of his twenty-third year. They exhibit the germs of all those qualities, to which he owed his subsequent fame as a writer. The first five numbers and the eighth of “The Busy-Body” were unquestionably written by Franklin.—Ed.

[1]

• Nam id arbitror
• Apprime in vitâ esse utile, ut ne quid nimis.
• —Terent.

[1 ]This is the first tract of a political nature known to have come from Franklin’s pen. It was printed at Philadelphia in 1729, when he was in his twenty-third year. At that early age, and so long before political economy had been recognized as a science, a correct theory of currency was not to be expected even from Franklin, but both in matter and manner it will be found superior to the average political economy of the period, either in America or Europe. For the circumstances under which it was written, see supra, i., pp. 152, 153.

[1 ]Franklin states this doctrine in 1729, precisely as Adam Smith does forty-six years afterwards in The Wealth of Nations.—W. Phillips.

[1 ]This passage shows that the theory as to the effect of the South American mines upon the rate of money prices and the reduction of the value of the precious metals, so elaborately set forth and reasoned out by Adam Smith, was quite a familiar notion when he was but six years old; the correctness of which, however, to the extent laid down by Franklin in this place, and afterwards by Smith, has of late years been gravely questioned by very respectable writers.—W. Phillips.

[1 ]This is a clear and just view of the effects and utility of banks of deposit. But the application which Franklin is about to make of it to land banks will not be acquiesced in at this day. Everybody knows that certainty as to time of payment of bills that pass as a circulating medium is no less important than the certainty that they will be eventually paid. The convertibility of the fund pledged for the redemption of the bill is as material a circumstance as its sufficiency and permanency of value. Land and immovable property generally is less convertible than movable property, for it cannot be removed from its place to seek a market; this renders this kind of property peculiarly unfit to constitute a fund or pledge for the redemption of bills that circulate as money.—W. Phillips.

[1 ]All commerce is by exchange, or rather is exchange, whether a trade involves money or not. The kind of trade intended by the author is in technical as well as in common language known by the name of barter.—W. Phillips.

[1 ]Soon after this pamphlet was written the measure proposed in it was adopted by the Assembly of Pennsylvania; and subsequently another bill for a similar object was passed, the principal features of which were published by Governor Pownall. They were understood to have been communicated to him by Franklin, with other remarks on paper money.

[2 ]From the Pennsylvania Gazette, June 23, 1730.

[1 ]From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 9, 1730.

[1 ]From the Pennsylvania Gazette, September 3, 1730.

[1 ]The sister of Franklin, and the youngest of seventeen children. She was married and a widow at a very early age. She was left in very straitened circumstances, and through life was obliged to have constant recourse to the counsel and purse of her brother. She was also sorely afflicted by the death or misfortunes of her children. She was devoted to her brother Benjamin, whom in her qualities of mind and character she was said to have much resembled.

[1 ]From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 24, 1732.

[1 ]From the Pennsylvania Gazette, July 10, 1732.

[1 ]From the Pennsylvania Gazette, February 18, 1734.

[1 ]This paper was called The Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences and Pennsylvania Gazette. Keimer printed his last number, the 39th, on the 25th day of September, 1729.—Ed.

Its leading articles were an installment of Chambers’ Dictionary, Art. “Air,” a message from Gov. Burnet of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, the reply of the Assembly, and an obituary of the governor, who had just died. The following announcement filled the rest of the sheet:

“It not quadrating with the circumstances of the printer hereof, S. K., to publish this Gazette any longer, he gives notice that this paper concludes his third quarter; and is the last that will be printed by him. Yet, that his generous subscribers may not be baulked or disappointed, he has agreed with B. Franklin and H. Meredith, at the new printing office, to continue it to the end of the year, having transferred the property wholly to them [D. Harry declining it2 ], and probably if further encouragement appears it will be continued longer. The said S. K. designs to leave this province early in the spring or sooner, if possibly he can justly accommodate his affairs with every one he stands indebted to.”

The next number, 40, appeared on the 2d of October, in new type, with the following announcement, the title Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences having been dropped, and with it the feature of the paper which it designated:

“The Pennsylvania Gazette being now to be carryed on by other hands, the reader may expect some account of the method we design to proceed in.

Upon a view of Chambers’ great dictionaries, from whence were taken the materials of The Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences, which usually made the first part of this paper, we find that besides their containing many things abstruse or insignificant to us, it will probably be fifty years before the whole can be gone through in this manner of publication. There are likewise in those books continual references from things under one letter of the alphabet to those under another, which relate to the same subject and are necessary to explain and complete it; these taken in their turn may be ten years distant; and since it is likely that they who desire to acquaint themselves with any particular art or science would gladly have the whole before them in much less time, we believe our readers will not think such a method of communicating knowledge to be a proper one.

However, though we do not intend to continue the publication of those dictionaries in a regular alphabetical method, as has hitherto been done; yet, as several things exhibited from them in the course of these papers, have been entertaining to such of the curious who never had and cannot have the advantage of good libraries; and as there are many things still behind, which, being in this manner made generally known, may perhaps become of considerable use by giving such hints to the excellent natural genius’s of our country, as may contribute either to the improvement of our present manufactures or towards the invention of new ones; we propose from time to time to communicate such particular parts as appear to be of the most general consequence.

As to the ‘Religious Courtship,’ part of which has been retal’d to the publick in these papers, the reader may be informed, that the whole book will probably in a little time be printed and bound by itself; and those who approve of it will doubtless be better pleased to have it entire, than in this broken, interrupted manner.

There are many who have long desired to see a good newspaper in Pennsylvania; and we hope those gentlemen who are able, will contribute towards the making this such. We ask assistance because we are fully sensible, that to publish a good newspaper is not so easy an undertaking as many people imagine it to be. The author of a Gazette (in the opinion of the learned) ought to be qualified with an extensive acquaintance with languages, a great easiness and command of writing, and relating things clearly and intelligibly and in a few words; he should be able to speak of war both by land and sea; be well acquainted with geography, with the history of the time, with the secret interests of princes and states, the secrets of courts, and the manners and customs of all nations. Men thus accomplished are very rare in this remote part of the world; and it would be well if the writer of these papers could make up among his friends what is wanting in himself.

Upon the whole, we may assure the publick, that, as far as the encouragement we meet with will enable us, no care and pains shall be omitted that may make the Pennsylvania Gazette as agreeable and useful an entertainment as the nature of the thing will allow.”

After the publication of two numbers the Gazette was published twice a week, beginning with No. 43. Franklin was only twenty-three years of age when he embarked in this enterprise.—Ed.

[2 ]In the previous number Keimer announced that he had made over his business to David Harry, with the design to leave this province as soon as he could get in his debts and justly balance with every one of his few creditors, etc., etc.