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1758: CLXVII: TO JOHN PRINGLE - Benjamin Franklin, The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Vol. III Letters and Misc. Writings 1753-1763 [1904]

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The Works of Benjamin Franklin, including the Private as well as the Official and Scientific Correspondence, together with the Unmutilated and Correct Version of the Autobiography, compiled and edited by John Bigelow (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1904). The Federal Edition in 12 volumes. Vol. III (Letters and Misc. Writings 1753-1763).

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Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.


CLXVII

TO JOHN PRINGLE

  • Craven Street,

6 January, 1758.

Sir:—

I return you Mr. Mitchell’s paper on the strata of the earth, with thanks. The reading of it, and perusal of the draft that accompanies it, have reconciled me to those convulsions which all naturalists agree this globe has suffered. Had the different strata of clay, gravel, marble, coals, limestone, sand, minerals, &c., continued to lie level, one under the other, as they may be supposed to have done before those convulsions, we should have had the use only of a few of the uppermost of the strata, the others lying too deep and too difficult to be come at; but, the shell of the earth being broke, and the fragments thrown into this oblique position, the disjointed ends of a great number of strata of different kinds are brought up to day, and a great variety of useful materials put into our power, which would otherwise have remained eternally concealed from us. So that what has been usually looked upon as a ruin suffered by this part of the universe, was, in reality, only a preparation, or means of rendering the earth more fit for use, more capable of being to mankind a convenient and comfortable habitation.

I am, Sir, with great esteem, yours, &c.,

B. Franklin.

CLXVIII

TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN

London, 14 January, 1758.

Dear Debby:—

I wrote a very long letter to you lately, two whole sheets full, containing answers to all yours received during my sickness. I have since received your kind favors of November 13th and 16th. It has given me great concern, that you should be so disappointed in having no letters by Captain Lutwidge. You know by this time how it happened; but I wonder you should expect letters from me by the way of Ireland, it being quite out of my knowledge when vessels are to sail from thence.

I am thankful to God for sparing my little family in that time of general sickness, and hope to find them all well at my return. The New York paper you sent me was the latest that came, and of use to our friend Strahan. He has offered to lay me a considerable wager, that a letter he has wrote to you will bring you immediately over hither; but I tell him I will not pick his pocket; for I am sure there is no inducement strong enough to prevail with you to cross the seas. I should be glad if I could tell you when I expected to be at home, but that is still in the dark; it is possible I may not be able to get away this summer; but I hope, if I stay another winter, it will be more agreeable than the greatest part of the time I have hitherto spent in England. But, however, I must bring my business to some conclusion.

I received Sally’s letter of November 12th, but cannot now write to her. I wrote to my friends generally by the last packet, and shall write to them again by a ship of Mr. Ralph’s, to sail from here in about a fortnight. I am not yet quite so hearty as before my illness; but I think I am daily stronger and better, so I hope I have had my seasoning; but much writing still disorders me.

My duty to mother, and love to Sally, Debby, Mr. Dunlap, and all friends that inquire after me. I am, my dear child, your ever loving husband,

B. Franklin.

P. S.—Billy presents his duty to you and mother, and love to his sister.

CLXIX

TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN

London, 21 January, 1758.

My Dear Child:—

Mr. Lorimer, a friend who is going over to General Abercromby, to assist him as secretary, called on me just now to acquaint me that he is on the point of setting out. I seize a minute or two just to let you know we are well, that is, I am well, compared to what I have been during a great part of the time since my arrival, and I hope with the spring to recover my full strength. Billy is quite hearty, and presents his duty, love, &c.

I have wrote to you by several opportunities lately, and particularly one long letter of two sheets, which I hope will come to hand, as it contained a full answer to a number of yours received during my illness, and I have no copy of it.

I begin to think I shall hardly be able to return before this time twelve months. I am for doing effectually what I came about; and I find it requires both time and patience. You may think, perhaps, that I can find many amusements here to pass the time agreeably. It is true, the regard and friendship I meet with from persons of worth, and the conversation of ingenious men, give me no small pleasure; but, at this time of life, domestic comforts afford the most solid satisfaction, and my uneasiness at being absent from my family, and longing desire to be with them, make me often sigh in the midst of cheerful company.

My love to my dear Sally. I confide in you the care of her and her education. I promise myself the pleasure of finding her much improved at my return. While I am writing, three letters came in, one from Mr. Hall, one from Mr. Rhoads, another from Dr. Bond, but none from you. They are by way of Bristol. I must send this away immediately, lest Mr. Lorimer should be gone. My respects to those gentlemen, to whom I shall write, and to my other friends, by Mr. Ralph’s vessel, which sails next week. I am your ever loving husband,

B. Franklin.

P. S.—When you write to Boston, give my love to sister Jenny, as I have not often time to write to her. If you please, you may send her the enclosed little picture.

CLXX

TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN

London, 19 February, 1758.

My Dear Child:—

I have wrote you several long letters lately; the last was by Mr. Ralph, and at the same time I wrote to my dear Sally. Last night I received yours of the 1st and 6th of January, which gave me the great pleasure of hearing that you and my little family were well. I hope you continue so, and that I shall have the happiness to find you so. The letter you mention to have sent me by Captain Robinson is not come to hand; but that by Mr. Hunt I received and answered.

I regret the loss of my friend Parsons. Death begins to make breaches in the little junto of old friends that he had long forborne, and it must be expected he will now soon pick us all off one after another.

Your kind advice about getting a chariot, I had taken some time before; for I found that every time I walked out I got a fresh cold; and the hackney coaches at this end of the town, where most people keep their own, are the worst in the whole city, miserable, dirty, broken, shabby things, unfit to go into when dressed clean, and such as one would be ashamed to get out of at any gentleman’s door. As to burning wood, it would answer no end, unless one would furnish all one’s neighbours and the whole city with the same. The whole town is one great smoky house, and every street a chimney, the air full of floating seacoal soot, and you never get a sweet breath of what is pure, without riding some miles for it into the country.

I am sorry to hear that a storm has damaged a house of my good friend Mr. Bartram. Acquaint him that I have received the seeds, and shall write to him shortly. I hope the Speaker is recovered of the illness you mention.

Give my thanks to Dr. Bond for the care he takes of you. I have wrote to him by this vessel. Mr. Hunter and Polly talk of returning this spring. He is wonderfully recruited. They both desire to be remembered to you. She received your letter and answered it. Her answer I enclosed in one of mine to you. Her daughter Rachel, who plays on the harpsichord and sings prettily, sends Sally one of her songs that I fancied.

I send you by Captain Budden a large case and a small box. In the large case is another small box, containing some English china, viz.: melons and leaves for a desert of fruit and cream, or the like; a bowl remarkable for the neatness of the figures, made at Bow, near this city; some coffee cups of the same; a Worcester bowl, ordinary. To show the difference of workmanship, there is something from all the china works in England; and one old true china basin mended, of an odd color. The same box contains four silver salt ladles, newest, but ugliest, fashion; a little instrument to core apples; another to make little turnips out of great ones; six coarse diaper breakfast cloths; they are to spread on the tea table, for nobody breakfasts here on the naked table, but on the cloth they set a large tea board with the cups. There is also a little basket, a present from Mrs. Stevenson to Sally, and a pair of garters for you, which were knit by the young lady, her daughter, who favored me with a pair of the same kind, the only ones I have been able to wear, as they need not be bound tight, the ridges in them preventing their slipping. We send them therefore as a curiosity for the form, more than for the value. Goody Smith may, if she pleases, make such for me hereafter. My love to her.

In the great case, besides the little box, is contained some carpeting for a best room floor. There is enough for one large or two small ones; it is to be sewed together, the edges being first felled down, and care taken to make the figures meet exactly; there is bordering for the same. This was my fancy. Also two large fine Flanders bedticks, and two pair of large superfine blankets, two fine damask tablecloths and napkins, and forty-three ells of Ghentish sheeting Holland. These you ordered. There are also fifty-six yards of cotton, printed curiously from copper plates, a new invention, to make bed and window curtains; and seven yards of chair bottoms, printed in the same way, very neat. These were my fancy; but Mrs. Stevenson tells me I did wrong not to buy both of the same color. Also seven yards of printed cotton, blue ground, to make you a gown. I bought it by candlelight, and liked it then, but not so well afterwards. If you do not fancy it, send it as a present from me to sister Jenny. There is a better gown for you, of flowered tissue, sixteen yards, of Mrs. Stevenson’s fancy, cost nine guineas; and I think it a great beauty. There was no more of the sort, or you should have had enough for a negligée or suit.

There are also snuffers, a snuffstand, and extinguisher, of steel, which I send for the beauty of the work. The extinguisher is for spermaceti candles only, and is of a new contrivance, to preserve the snuff upon the candle. There is some music Billy bought for his sister, and some pamphlets for the Speaker and for Susy Wright. A mahogany and a little shagreen box, with microscopes and other optical instruments loose, are for Mr. Alison, if he likes them; if not, put them in my room till I return. I send the invoice of them, and I wrote to him formerly the reason of my exceeding his orders. There are also two sets of books, a present from me to Sally, The World and The Connoisseur. My love to her.

I forgot to mention another of my fancyings, viz., a pair of silk blankets, very fine. They are of a new kind, were just taken in a French prize, and such were never seen in England before. They are called blankets, but I think they will be very neat to cover a summer bed, instead of a quilt or counterpane. I had no choice, so you will excuse the soil on some of the folds; your neighbour Foster can get it off. I also forgot, among the china, to mention a large fine jug for beer, to stand in the cooler. I fell in love with it at first sight; for I thought it looked like a fat jolly dame clean and tidy, with a neat blue and white calico gown on, good natured and lovely, and put me in mind of—somebody. It has the coffee cups in it, packed in best crystal salt, of a peculiar nice flavor, for the table, not to be powdered.

I hope Sally applies herself closely to her French and music, and that I shall find she has made great proficiency. The harpischord I was about, and which was to have cost me forty guineas, Mr. Stanley advises me not to buy; and we are looking out for another, one that has been some time in use, and is a tried good one, there being not so much dependence on a new one, though made by the best hands. Sally’s last letter to her brother is the best wrote that of late I have seen of hers. I only wish she was a little more careful of her spelling. I hope she continues to love going to church, and would have her read over and over again The Whole Duty of Man, and The Lady’s Library.

Look at the figures on the china bowl and coffee cups, with your spectacles on; they will bear examining.

I have made your compliments to Mrs. Stevenson. She is indeed very obliging, takes great care of my health, and is very diligent when I am any way indisposed; but yet I have a thousand times wished you with me, and my little Sally with her ready hands and feet to do, and go, and come, and get what I wanted. There is a great difference in sickness between being nursed with that tender attention which proceeds from sincere love, and ——1

CLXXI

TO THOMAS HUBBARD, AT BOSTON

London, 28 April, 1758.

Sir:—

In pursuance of Mr. Winthrop’s memorandum, which I lately received from you, through the hands of Mr. Mico, I have procured and delivered to him the following things, viz.:

A mahogany case lined with lead, containing thirty-five square glass bottles, in five rows, seven in a row.

A glass globe of the same size and kind with that I used at Philadelphia, and mounted in the same manner.

A large glass cylinder, mounted on an iron axis with brass caps; this form being most used here, and thought better than the globe, as a long narrow cushion will electrify a greater surface at the same time.

The bottles have necks, which I think better than to be quite open; for so they would either be exposed to the dust and damp of the air, if they had no stoppers, or the stoppers would be too near together to admit of electrifying a single bottle, or row of bottles; there is only a little more difficulty in lining the inside with tinfoil, but that is chiefly got over by cutting it into narrow strips, and guiding them in with a stick flat at one end, to apply the more conveniently to the pasted side of the glass. I would have coated them myself, if the time had not been too short. I send the tinfoil, which I got made of a proper breadth for the purpose; they should be coated nine inches high, which brings the coating just even with the edge of the case. The tinfoil is ten inches broad, which allows for lapping over the bottom.

I have bored the holes in all the stoppers for the communicating wires, provided all the wires, and fixed one or two to show the manner. Each wire, to go into a bottle, is bent so that the two ends go in and spring against the inside coating or lining. The middle of the wire goes up into the stopper, with an eye, through which the long communicating wires pass, that connect all the bottles in one row.

To form occasional communications with more rows, there must be, on the long wires of the second and fourth rows, four other movable wires, which I call cross-wires, about two inches and a half long, with a small ball of any metal about the size of a pistol-bullet at each end. The ball of one end is to have a hole through the middle, so that it may be slipped on the long wire; and one of these cross-wires is to be placed between the third and fourth bottles of the row at each end; and on each of the above-mentioned rows, that is, two to each row, they must be made to turn easy on the wires, so that when you would charge only the middle row, you turn two of them back on the first, and two on the fifth row, then the middle row will be unconnected with the others. When you would charge more rows, you turn them forwards or backwards, so as to have the communication completed with just the number of rows you want.

The brass handles of the case communicate with the outside of the bottles, when you wish to make the electrical circuit.

I see, now I have wrote it, that the greatest part of this letter would have been more properly addressed to Mr. Winthrop himself1 ; but probably you will send it to him with the things, and that will answer the end. Be pleased to tender my best respects to him and the rest of the gentlemen of the College.

I am, with great esteem and regard, Sir,
Your most obliged humble servant,

B. Franklin.

P. S.—I beg the College will do me the favor to accept a Virgil, which I send in the case, thought to be the most curiously printed of any book hitherto done in the world.1

CLXXII

TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN

London, 10 June, 1758.

My Dear Child:—

I was down at Cambridge with Billy when Snead sailed, so I did not write again by him as I intended. His sailing so soon was unexpected to me. I am somewhat out of the way of vessels, and Mr. Partridge, by mistake, wrote me Snead was not to sail that week; so, being very kindly entertained there in the colleges, we did not hurry so soon home as we might have done. However, this vessel perhaps may be there about the same time.

I think nobody ever had more faithful correspondents than I have in Mr. Hughes and you. It is impossible for me to get or keep out of your debts. I received the bill of exchange you got of Mr. Nelson, and it is paid. I received also the Proprietary’s account. It gives me concern to receive such frequent accounts of your being indisposed; but we both of us grow in years, and must expect our constitutions, though tolerably good in themselves, will by degrees give way to the infirmities of age.

I have sent, in a trunk of the Library Company’s, some of the best writing paper for letters, and best quills and wax, all for Mrs. Moore, which I beg she would accept; having received such civilities here from her sister and brother Scott as are not in my power to return. I shall send some to Sally by the next opportunity. By Captain Lutwidge I sent my dear girl a newest fashioned white hat and cloak, and sundry little things, which I hope will get safe to hand. I now send her a pair of buckles, made of French paste stones, which are next in lustre to diamonds. They cost three guineas, and are said to be cheap at that price. I fancy I see more likeness in her picture than I did at first, and I look at it often with pleasure, as at least it reminds me of her. Yours is at the painter’s, who is to copy it and do me of the same size; but, as to family pieces, it is said they never look well, and are quite out of fashion, and I find the limner very unwilling to undertake any thing of the kind. However, when Franky’s comes, and that of Sally by young Hesselius, I shall see what can be done. I wonder how you came by Ben Lay’s picture.

You are very prudent not to engage in party disputes. Women never should meddle with them, except in endeavours to reconcile their husbands, brothers, and friends, who happen to be of contrary sides. If your sex keep cool, you may be a means of cooling ours the sooner, and restoring more speedily that social harmony among fellow-citizens that is so desirable after long and bitter dissensions.

Cousin Dunlap1 has wrote me an account of his purchasing Chattin’s printing-house. I wish it may be advantageous to him without injuring Mr. Hall. I can however do nothing to encourage him, as a printer in Philadelphia, inconsistent with my pre-engagement to so faithful a partner. And I trust you will take care not to do any thing in that way that may draw reflections on me; as if I did underhand, through your means, what I would not care to appear in openly. I hope he will keep a good understanding with Mr. Hall, and I am pleased to hear that he asked his advice and friendship; but I have thought it right and necessary to forbid the use of my letters by Mr. Dunlap without Mr. Hall’s consent. The post-office, if it is agreeable to you, may be removed to Mr. Dunlap’s house, it being proposed by our good friend Mr. Hughes.

I wrote to you lately to speak to Ambruster2 not to make use of my name any more in his newspaper, as I have no particular concern in it, but as one of the trustees only. I have no prospect of returning until next spring, so you will not expect me. But pray remember to make me as happy as you can, by sending some pippins for myself and friends, some of your small hams, and some cranberries.

Billy is of the Middle Temple, and will be called to the bar either this term or the next. I write this in answer to your particular inquiry. I am glad you like the cloak I sent you. The black silk was sent by our friend Mr. Collinson. I never saw it. Your answer to Mr. Strahan was just what it should be. I was much pleased with it. He fancied his rhetoric and art would certainly bring you over.

I have ordered two large print Common Prayer Books to be bound, on purpose for you and Goody Smith; and, that the largeness of the print may not make them too bulky, the christenings, matrimonies, and every thing else that you and she have not immediate and constant occasion for, are to be omitted. So you will both of you be reprieved from the use of spectacles in church a little longer.

If the ringing of the bells frightens you, tie a piece of wire from one bell to the other, and that will conduct the lightning without ringing or snapping, but silently; though I think it best the bells should be at liberty to ring, that you may know when they are electrified; and when you are afraid you may keep at a distance.1 I wrote last winter to Josey Crocker to come over hither and stay a year, and work in some of the best shops for improvement in his business, and therefore did not send the tools; but if he is about to be married I would not advise him to come. I shall send the tools immediately. You have disposed of the apple-trees very properly. I condole with you on the loss of your walnuts.

I see the governor’s treatment of his wife makes all the ladies angry. If it is on account of the bad example, that will soon be removed; for the Proprietors are privately looking out for another; being determined to discard him, and the place goes a begging. One, to whom it was offered, sent a friend to make some inquiries of me. The Proprietors told him they had there a city-house and a country-house, which he might use rent free; that every thing was so cheap he might live on five hundred pounds sterling a year, keep a genteel table, a coach, &c., and his income would be at least nine hundred pounds. If it fell short of that, the Proprietors would engage to make it up. For the truth of his being able to live genteelly and keep a coach for five hundred pounds a year, the Proprietors referred him to Mr. Hamilton, who, it seems, told him the same story; but, on inquiry of Mr. Morris, he had quite a different account, and knew not which to believe. The gentleman is one Mr. Graves, a lawyer of the Temple. He hesitated a good while, and I am now told has declined accepting it. I wish that may not be true, for he has the character of being a very good sort of man; though while the instructions continue, it matters little who is our governor. It was to have been kept a secret from me, that the Proprietors were looking out for a new one; because they would not have Mr. Denny know any thing about it, till the appointment was actually made, and the gentleman ready to embark. So you may make a secret of it too, if you please, and oblige all your friends with it.1

I need not tell you to assist godmother in her difficulties; for I know you will think it as agreeable to me as it is to your own good disposition. I could not find the bit of thread you mention to have sent me, of your own spinning. Perhaps it was too fine to be seen. I am glad little Franky begins to talk. It will divert you to have him often with you.

I think I have now gone through your letters, which always give me great pleasure to receive and read, since I cannot be with you in person. Distribute my compliments, respects, and love among my friends, and believe me ever, my dear Debby, your affectionate husband,

B. Franklin.

P. S.—Mrs. Stevenson and her daughter desire me to present their compliments and offer their services to you and Sally. I think of going into the country soon, and shall be pretty much out this summer, in different parts of England. I depend chiefly on these journeys for the establishment of my health.

CLXXIII

TO THE SPEAKER AND COMMITTEE OF THE PENNSYLVANIA ASSEMBLY

London, 10 June, 1758.

Gentlemen:—

In mine of May 13th I gave you a particular account of the hearing before the Attorney and Solicitor General, on a reference of Smith’s petition. They have not yet made their report, and would now, I hear, excuse themselves from doing it as unnecessary, since they have heard that the prisoners are discharged. But they are still solicited by Mr. Penn and Mr. Moore to report, on an allegation that they have letters advising that warrants are issued for taking them up again. None of my letters from Pennsylvania mentions any thing of this. I have ventured to say I doubt the truth of it. Whether they will report or not is uncertain; but if they should report against us, I am determined to dispute the matter again before the Council.

I send you herewith a copy of the note I furnished our solicitor with, when drawing his brief; a copy of the brief itself; a copy of some remarks on the reflection thrown upon the Assembly by the Council at the first hearing, as being Quakers and therefore against defence, and as bearing malice against Smith because a clergyman of the Church of England, and against Moore because he petitioned for defence. These I gave to our counsel before the second hearing, when they were to speak, and they made good use of them. I furnished also a number of cases from the votes of Assemblies in the other colonies, showing that they all claimed and exercised power of committing for breach of privilege; but of this paper of cases I have no copy by me.1

Mr. Charles at my request has drawn the state of the case, in order to obtain opinions of eminent lawyers how far our present privileges would be affected in case of a change of government, by our coming immediately under the crown. I send you a copy of this case, with the opinion of our counsel upon it, who is esteemed the best acquainted with our American affairs and constitutions, as well as with government law in general. He being also thoroughly knowing in the present views of the Board of Trade, and in their connexions and characters, has given me withal, as a friend, some prudential advice in a separate sheet distinct from his law opinion, because the law opinion might necessarily appear where he would not care the advice should be seen. I send you, also, a copy of this, and should be glad of your sentiments upon it. One thing that he recommends to be done before we push our point in Parliament, is removing the prejudices that art and accident have spread among the people of this country against us, and obtaining for us the good opinion of the bulk of mankind without doors. This I hope we have it in our power to do, by means of a work now nearly ready for the press, calculated to engage the attention of many readers, and at the same time to efface the bad impressions received of us; but it is thought best not to publish it till a little before the next session of Parliament.1

The Proprietors are determined to discard their present governor, as soon as they can find a successor to their mind. They have lately offered the government to one Mr. Graves, a gentleman of the Temple, who has had it for some time under consideration, and makes a difficulty of accepting it. The beginning of the week it was thought he would accept; but on Thursday night I was told he had resolved to refuse it. I know not, however, whether he may not yet be prevailed on. He has the character of a man of good understanding and good dispositions,—[incomplete].

CLXXIV

TO JOHN LINING, AT CHARLESTON

London, 17 June, 1758.

Dear Sir:—

In a former letter I mentioned the experiment for cooling bodies by evaporation, and that I had, by repeatedly wetting the thermometer with common spirits, brought the mercury down five or six degrees. Being lately at Cambridge, and mentioning this in conversation with Dr. Hadley, professor of chemistry there, he proposed repeating the experiments with ether, instead of common spirits as the ether is much quicker in evaporation. We accordingly went to his chamber, where he had both ether and a thermometer. By dipping first the ball of the thermometer into the ether, it appeared that the ether was precisely of the same temperament with the thermometer, which stood then at 65; for it made no alteration in the height of the little column of mercury. But when the thermometer was taken out of the ether, and the ether, with which the ball was wet, began to evaporate, the mercury sunk several degrees. The wetting was then repeated by a feather that had been dipped into the ether, when the mercury sunk still lower.

We continued this operation, one of us wetting the ball, and another of the company blowing on it with the bellows to quicken the evaporation, the mercury sinking all the time, till it came down to 7, which is 25 degrees below the freezing point, when we left off. Soon after it passed the freezing point a thin coat of ice began to cover the ball. Whether this was water collected and condensed by the coldness of the ball from the moisture in the air or from our breath; or whether the feather, when dipped into the ether, might not sometimes go through it and bring up some of the water that was under it, I am not certain; perhaps all might contribute. The ice continued increasing till we ended the experiment, when it appeared near a quarter of an inch thick all over the ball, with a number of small spicula, pointing outwards. From this experiment one may see the possibility of freezing a man to death on a warm summer’s day, if he were to stand in a passage through which the wind blew briskly, and to be wet frequently with ether, a spirit that is more inflammable than brandy or common spirits of wine.

It is but within these few years that the European philosophers seem to have known this power in nature, of cooling bodies by evaporation. But in the east they have long been acquainted with it. A friend tells me there is a passage in Bernier’s Travels through Indostan, written near one hundred years ago, that mentions it as a practice (in travelling over dry deserts in that hot climate) to carry water in flasks wrapped in wet woollen cloths, and hung on the shady side of the camel, or carriage, but in the free air; whereby, as the cloths gradually grow drier, the water contained in the flasks is made cool. They have likewise a kind of earthen pots, unglazed, which let the water gradually and slowly ooze through their pores, so as to keep the outside a little wet, notwithstanding the continual evaporation, which gives great coldness to the vessel and the water contained in it. Even our common sailors seem to have had some notion of this property; for I remember that, being at sea when I was a youth, I observed one of the sailors, during a calm in the night, often wetting his finger in his mouth, and then holding it up in the air, to discover, as he said, if the air had any motion, and from which side it came; and this he expected to do by finding one side of his finger grow suddenly cold, and from that side he should look for the next wind; which I then laughed at as a fancy.

May not several phenomena hitherto unconsidered or unaccounted for be explained by this property? During the hot Sunday at Philadelphia, in June, 1750, when the thermometer was up at 100 in the shade, I sat in my chamber without exercise, only reading or writing, with no other clothes on than a shirt and a pair of long linen drawers, the windows all open, and a brisk wind blowing through the house; the sweat ran off the backs of my hands, and my shirt was often so wet as to induce me to call for dry ones to put on. In this situation, one might have suspected that the natural heat of the body, 96, added to the heat of the air, 100, should jointly have created or produced a much greater degree of heat in the body; but the fact was that my body never grew so hot as the air that surrounded it, or the inanimate bodies immersed in the same air. For I remember well that the desk, when I laid my arm upon it; a chair, when I sat down in it; and a dry shirt out of the drawer, when I put it on—all felt exceeding warm to me, as if they had been warmed before a fire. And I suppose a dead body would have acquired the temperature of the air, though a living one, by continual sweating, and by the evaporation of that sweat, was kept cold.

May not this be a reason why our reapers in Pennsylvania, working in the open field in the clear hot sunshine common in our harvest-time,1 find themselves well able to go through that labor without being much incommoded by the heat, while they continue to sweat, and while they supply matter for keeping up that sweat, by drinking frequently of a thin evaporable liquor, water mixed with rum; but, if the sweat stops, they drop, and sometimes die suddenly, if a sweating is not again brought on by drinking that liquor, or, as some rather choose in that case, a kind of hot punch, made with water, mixed with honey, and a considerable proportion of vinegar? May there not be in negroes a quicker evaporation of the perspirable matter from their skins and lungs, which, by cooling them more, enables them to bear the sun’s heat better than whites do? (if that is a fact, as it is said to be; for the alleged necessity of having negroes rather than whites to work in the West India fields is founded upon it,) though the color of their skins would otherwise make them more sensible of the sun’s heat, since black cloth heats much sooner and more, in the sun, than white cloth. I am persuaded, from several instances happening within my knowledge, that they do not bear cold weather so well as the whites; they will perish when exposed to a less degree of it, and are more apt to have their limbs frost-bitten; and may not this be from the same cause?

Would not the earth grow much hotter under the summer sun if a constant evaporation from its surface, greater as the sun shines stronger, did not, by tending to cool it, balance, in some degree, the warmer effects of the sun’s rays? Is it not owing to the constant evaporation from the surface of every leaf, that trees, though shone on by the sun, are always, even the leaves themselves, cool to our sense? at least much cooler than they would otherwise be? May it not be owing to this that, fanning ourselves when warm, does really cool us, though the air is itself warm that we drive with the fan upon our faces? For the atmosphere round and next to our bodies, having imbibed as much of the perspired vapor as it can well contain, receives no more, and the evaporation is therefore checked and retarded till we drive away that atmosphere, and bring drier air in its place, that will receive the vapor, and thereby facilitate and increase the evaporation. Certain it is that mere blowing of air on a dry body does not cool it, as any one may satisfy himself by blowing with a bellows on the dry ball of a thermometer; the mercury will not fall; if it moves at all, it rather rises, as being warmed by the friction of the air on its surface.

To these queries of imagination I will only add one practical observation,—that wherever it is thought proper to give ease in cases of painful inflammation in the flesh (as from burnings or the like) by cooling the part, linen cloths wet with spirit and applied to the part inflamed, will produce the coolness required, better than if wet with water, and will continue it longer. For water, though cold when first applied, will soon acquire warmth from the flesh, as it does not evaporate fast enough; but the cloths wet with spirit will continue cold as long as any spirit is left to keep up the evaporation, the parts warmed escaping as soon as they are warmed, and carrying off the heat with them. I am, Sir, &c.,

B. Franklin.

CLXXV

TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN

London, 6 September, 1758.

My Dear Child:—

In mine of June 10th, by the Mercury, Captain Robinson, I mentioned our having been at Cambridge. We stayed there a week, being entertained with great kindness by the principal people, and shown all the curiosities of the place; and returning by another road to see more of the country, we came again to London. I found the journey advantageous to my health, increasing both my health and spirits, and therefore, as all the great folks were out of town, and public business at a stand, I the more easily prevailed with myself to take another journey, and accept of the invitation we had, to be again at Cambridge at the Commencement, the beginning of July. We went accordingly, were present at all the ceremonies, dined every day in their halls, and my vanity was not a little gratified by the particular regard shown me by the chancellor and vice-chancellor of the University and the heads of colleges.

After the Commencement we went from Cambridge through Huntingdonshire into Northumberlandshire, and at Wellingborough, on inquiry, we found still living Mary Fisher, whose maiden name was Franklin, daughter and only child of Thomas Franklin, my father’s eldest brother. She is five years older than sister Dowse, and remembers her going away with my father and his then wife and two other children to New England, about the year 1685. We have had no correspondence with her since my uncle Benjamin’s death, now near thirty years. I knew she had lived at Wellingborough, and had married there to one Mr. Richard Fisher, a grazier and tanner, about fifty years ago, but did not expect to see either of them alive, so inquired for their posterity. I was directed to their house, and we found them both alive, but weak with age, very glad however to see us. She seems to have been a very smart, sensible woman. They are wealthy, have left off business, and live comfortably. They have had only one child, a daughter, who died when about thirty years of age, unmarried. She gave me several of my uncle Benjamin’s letters to her, and acquainted me where the other remains of the family lived, of which I have, since my return to London, found out a daughter of my father’s only sister, very old, and never married. She is a good, clever woman, but poor, though vastly contented with her situation, and very cheerful. The others are in different parts of the country. I intend to visit them, but they were too much out of our tour in that journey.

From Wellingborough we went to Ecton, about three or four miles, being the village where my father was born, and where his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had lived, and how many of the family before them we know not. We went first to see the old house and grounds; they came to Mr. Fisher with his wife, and after letting them for some years, finding his rent something ill paid, he sold them. The land is now added to another farm, and a school kept in the house. It is a decayed old stone building, but still known by the name of Franklin House. Thence we went to visit the rector of the parish, who lives close by the church, a very ancient building. He entertained us very kindly, and showed us the old church register, in which were the births, marriages, and burials of our ancestors for two hundred years, as early as his book began, His wife, a good-natured, chatty old lady (granddaughter of the famous Archdeacon Palmer, who formerly had that parish, and lived there), remembered a great deal about the family; carried us out into the churchyard, and showed us several of their gravestones, which were so covered with moss that we could not read the letters, till she ordered a hard brush and basin of water, with which Peter scoured them clean, and then Billy copied them. She entertained and diverted us highly with stories of Thomas Franklin, Mrs. Fisher’s father, who was a conveyancer, something of a lawyer, clerk of the county courts, and clerk to the Archdeacon in his visitations; a very leading man in all county affairs, and much employed in public business. He set on foot a subscription for erecting chimes in their steeple, and completed it, and we heard them play. He found out an easy method of saving their village meadows from being drowned, as they used to be sometimes by the river, which method is still in being; but, when first proposed, nobody could conceive how it could be; “but, however,” they said, “if Franklin says he knows how to do it, it will be done.” His advice and opinion were sought for on all occasions by all sorts of people, and he was looked upon, she said, by some as something of a conjurer. He died just four years before I was born, on the same day of the same month.

Since our return to London, I have had a kind letter from cousin Fisher, and another from the rector, which I send you.

From Ecton we went to Northampton, where we stayed part of the day; then went to Coventry, and from thence to Birmingham. Here, upon inquiry, we soon found out yours, and cousin Wilkinson’s, and cousin Cash’s relations. First, we found out one of the Cashes, and he went with us to Rebecca Flint’s, where we saw her and her husband. She is a turner and he a buttonmaker; they have no children; were very glad to see any person that knew their sister Wilkinson; told us what letters they had received, and showed us some of them; and even showed us that they had, out of respect, preserved a keg, in which they had received a present of some sturgeon. They sent for their brother, Joshua North, who came with his wife immediately to see us; he is a turner also, and has six children; a lively, active man. Mrs. Flint desired me to tell her sister, that they live still in the old house she left them in, which I think she says was their father’s. From thence Mr. North went with us to your cousin Benjamin’s.1

CLXXVI

TO HUGH ROBERTS

London, 16 September, 1758.

Dear Friend:—

Your kind letter of June 1st gave me great pleasure. I thank you for the concern you express about my health, which at present seems tolerably confirmed by my late journey into different parts of the kingdom, and have been highly entertaining as well as useful to me. Your visits to my little family in my absence are very obliging, and I hope you will be so good as to continue them. Your remark on the thistle and the Scotch motto made us very merry, as well as your string of puns. You will allow me to claim a little merit or demerit in the last, as having had some hand in making you a punster; but the wit of the first is keen, and all your own.

Two of the former members of the Junto, you tell me, are departed this life, Potts and Parsons. Odd characters both of them. Parsons a wise man, that often acted foolishly; Potts a wit, that seldom acted wisely. If enough were the means to make a man happy, one had always the means of happiness, without ever enjoying the thing; the other had always the thing, without ever possessing the means. Parsons, even in his prosperity, always fretting; Potts, in the midst of his poverty, ever laughing. It seems, then, that happiness in this life rather depends on internals than externals; and that, besides the natural effects of wisdom and virtue, vice and folly, there is such a thing as a happy or an unhappy constitution. They were both our friends, and loved us. So, peace to their shades. They had their virtues as well as their foibles; they were both honest men, and that alone, as the world goes, is one of the greatest of characters. They were old acquaintances, in whose company I formerly enjoyed a great deal of pleasure and I cannot think of losing them without concern and regret.

I shall, as you suppose, look on every opportunity you give me of doing you service, as a favor, because it will afford me pleasure. I know how to make you ample returns for such favors, by giving you the pleasure of building me a house. You may do it without losing any of your own time; it will only take some part of that you now spend in other folks’ business. It is only jumping out of their waters into mine.

I am grieved for our friend Syng’s loss. You and I, who esteem him, and have valuable sons ourselves, can sympathize with him sincerely. I hope yours is perfectly recovered, for your sake as well as for his own. I wish he may be, in every respect, as good and as useful as his father. I need not wish him more; and can only add that I am, with great esteem, dear friend, yours affectionately,

B. Franklin.

P. S.—I rejoice to hear of the prosperity of the Hospital, and send the wafers. I do not quite like your absenting yourself from that good old club, the Junto. Your more frequent presence might be a means of keeping them from being all engaged in measures not the best for the public welfare. I exhort you, therefore, to return to your duty; and, as the Indians say, to confirm my words, I send you a Birmingham tile. I thought the neatness of the figures would please you.

CLXXVII

TO MRS. JANE MECOM

London, 16 September, 1758.

Dear Sister:—

I received your favor of June 17th. I wonder you have had no letter from me since my being in England. I have wrote you at least two, and I think a third before this, and, what was next to waiting on you in person, sent you my picture. In June last I sent Benny a trunk of books, and wrote to him. I hope they are come to hand, and that he meets with encouragement in his business, I congratulate you on the conquest of Cape Breton, and hope, as your people took it by praying the first time, you will now pray that it may never be given up again, which you then forgot. Billy is well, but in the country. I left him at Tunbridge Wells where we spent a fortnight, and he is now gone with some company to see Portsmouth. We have been together over a great part of England this summer, and, among other places, visited the town our father was born in, and found some relations in that part of the country still living.

Our cousin Jane Franklin, daughter of our uncle John, died about a year ago. We saw her husband, Robert Page, who gave us some old letters to his wife from uncle Benjamin. In one of them, dated Boston, July 4, 1723, he writes that your uncle Josiah has a daughter Jane, about twelve years old, a good-humored child. So keep up to your character, and don’t be angry when you have no letters. In a little book he sent her, called None but Christ, he wrote an acrostic on her name, which for namesake’s sake, as well as the good advice it contains, I transcribe and send you, viz.:

    • Illuminated from on high,
    • And shining brightly in your sphere,
    • Ne’er faint, but keep a steady eye,
    • Expecting endless pleasures there.
    • Flee vice as you’d a serpent flee;
    • Raise faith and hope three stories higher,
    • And let Christ’s endless love to thee
    • Ne’er cease to make thy love aspire.
    • Kindness of heart by words express,
    • Let your obedience be sincere,
    • In prayer and praise your God address,
    • Nor cease, till he can cease to hear.

After professing truly that I had a great esteem and veneration for the pious author, permit me a little to play the commentator and critic on these lines. The meaning of three stories higher seems somewhat obscure. You are to understand, then, that faith, hope, and charity have been called the three steps of Jacob’s ladder, reaching from earth to heaven; our author calls them stories, likening religion to a building, and these are the three stories of the Christian edifice. Thus improvement in religion is called building up and edification. Faith is, then, the ground floor; hope is up one pair of stairs. My dear beloved Jenny, don’t delight so much to dwell, in those lower rooms, but get as fast as you can into the garret, for in truth the best room in the house is charity. For my part, I wish the house was turned upside down; it is so difficult (when one is fat) to go up stairs; and not only so, but I imagine hope and faith may be more firmly built upon charity, than charity upon faith and hope. However that may be, I think it the better reading to say—

  • Raise faith and hope one story higher.

Correct it boldly, and I’ll support the alteration; for, when you are up two stories already, if you raise your building three stories higher you will make five in all, which is two more than there should be, you expose your upper rooms more to the winds and storms; and, besides, I am afraid the foundation will hardly bear them, unless indeed you build with such light stuff as straw and stubble, and that, you know, won’t stand fire. Again, where the author says—

  • Kindness of heart by words express,

strike out words, and put in deeds. The world is too full of compliments already. They are the rank growth of every soil, and choke the good plants of benevolence and beneficence; nor do I pretend to be the first in this comparison of words and actions to plants; you may remember an ancient poet, whose works we have all studied and copied at school long ago:

  • A man of words and not of deeds
  • Is like a garden full of weeds.

It is a pity that good works, among some sorts of people, are so little valued, and good words admired in their stead; I mean seemingly pious discourses, instead of humane, benevolent actions. Those they almost put out of countenance, by calling morality rotten morality, righteousness ragged righteousness, and even filthy rags. So much by way of commentary.

My wife will let you see my letter, containing an account of our travels, which I would have you read to sister Dowse, and give my love to her. I have no thoughts of returning till next year, and then may possibly have the pleasure of seeing you and yours; taking Boston in my way home. My love to brother and all your children, concludes at this time from, dear Jenny, your affectionate brother,

B. Franklin.

[1 ]The remainder of the letter is lost.

[1 ]At that time Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in Harvard University, for which institution the electrical apparatus described in this letter was designed.—S.

[1 ]A copy of Baskerville’s quarto edition of Virgil, printed the year before at Birmingham, and perhaps the most beautiful of the various works by which this celebrated type-founder and printer gained the praise of “uniting, in a singularly happy manner, the elegance of Plantin with the clearness of the Elzevirs.”—S.

[1 ]William Dunlap, an Irish printer married to a relative of his wife.

[2 ]Anthony Ambruster, a German by birth, who printed German books in Philadelphia, and for some time published a newspaper there in the German language.

[1 ]In the year 1753, he had erected an iron rod for the purpose of drawing lightning from the clouds into his house. He also placed two bells in such position that they would ring when the rod was electrified. See description of this contrivance in vol. ii., in a letter to Peter Collinson, dated September, 1753.

[1 ]The Proprietors were dissatisfied with Governor Denny, and resolved to remove him. The negotiation with Mr. Graves having failed, the post was next offered to James Hamilton, a native of Philadelphia, who had been governor a few years before, and who was at this time in London. He took an independent ground with the Proprietors, and seems to have had some difficulty in arranging certain points to their mutual satisfaction, especially in what related to the long-disputed question as to taxing the proprietary estates. This is evident from the following extract from a letter, which he wrote in London to Thomas Penn, one of the Proprietors, August 21, 1759, while the negotiation was pending.

“I am sorry,” said he, “that this treaty about the government has been drawn out to so inconvenient a length. Everybody knows I did not solicit my appointment to it, nor have I varied the terms, on which I professed to engage in it, one iota from the beginning. Those terms were, that I would not be restrained from giving my assent to any reasonable bill for taxing the proprietary estates in common with all the other estates in the province, because in my opinion it was not more than just that it should be so. If you have changed your sentiments with regard to this matter, which for a long time I looked upon to be the the same as mine, it will give me no pain on my own account. Every thing that respects me may drop silently, as if it had never been moved. Only, for saving your time and my own, I think it incumbent on me to declare, as I have frequently done, that I cannot think of engaging myself in that service, but upon the terms or conditions above mentioned.”

Mr. Hamilton was appointed governor, and he returned soon afterwards to Pennsylvania. The reluctance of the Proprietors to have their lands taxed by the Assembly was not easily overcome, as clearly appears from their instructions to the governor on this head. They express a willingness to aid in the defence of the province by suitable contributions, but claim the privilege of doing it in such manner as their judgment shall dictate, and deny all right in the Assembly to impose a tax on their property in the province for any object whatever “Wherefore,” they add, “we recommend to you to use the most prudent means in your power, to avoid and prevent the Assembly from including any part of our estate in the said province in any tax to be by them raised. But, in case the exigency of the times, the King’s immediate service, and the defence of the province cannot be provided for, unless our estate shall be included in any bill for raising taxes for such services, then we do, notwithstanding our general dislike of the same, permit you to give your assent to such a bill, as shall impose a tax on our rents and quitrents only, but not on our vacant lands, whether appropriated or not, nor on any fines or purchase money pretended or supposed to be due to us, which, we are well advised, are not in their nature liable to taxation, always provided, as our rents and quitrents are clear and certain in their amount, that proper and reasonable clauses be inserted in every such bill, for rendering as clear and as certain as possible the true value of all other persons’ estates, that we may not be taxed beyond our true proportion with respect to others And provided also, that our respective tenants be obliged to pay the same, and to deduct the same out of our rents, when they account to us or our receiver, and not to pretend to authorize the sale of any of our lands for non-payment of taxes.”

Clogged with such instructions, although the point of taxation was yielded to a certain extent, Mr. Hamilton could hardly hope to satisfy the Assembly or the people, who believed and contended, that, for all the purposes of defence, the property of the Proprietors in the province, of whatever kind or however situated, was justly liable to be taxed in the same proportion, and the same manner, as their own, nor indeed do the instructions seem to accord fully with Mr. Hamilton’s view of the subject, as expressed in his letter to Mr. Penn.—Sparks.

[1 ]Petitions had been sent to the Assembly, charging William Moore, president of the Court of Common Pleas in Chester County, with misconduct in his office. Moore was summoned to appear before the House, which he refused to do. The House found him guilty, however, and requested the governor to remove him from office. This was declined by the governor, till he should investigate the case, and in the meantime Moore published a defence containing language which the Assembly voted to be slanderous and insulting. It appeared in evidence also, that William Smith, provost of the College, had been concerned in revising and correcting this piece before it was published. Smith was then arrested, and both he and Moore were imprisoned. The public was much agitated by the controversy. The governor took the part of the accused. Smith and Moore ultimately appealed to the King in Council, where it was decided that the Assembly had transcended their powers, and that their conduct was reprehensible. A summary of the case is contained in Gordon’s History of Pennsylvania, p. 352.—Editor.

[1 ]The work here alluded to is undoubtedly the Historical Review of the Constitution and Government of Pennsylvania, which was first published in the year 1759. See letter to David Hume, under date of September 27, 1760.

[1 ]Pennsylvania is in about lat. 40, and the sun, of course, about 12 degrees higher, and therefore much hotter, than in England. Their harvest is about the end of June or beginning of July, when the sun is nearly at the highest.—F.

[1 ]The remainder of the letter is missing.