as well as unfortunately, that worthy, valuable young man you
mention, your namesake Maddeson. He was infinitely regretted by all
that knew him.
I am sorry your favourite charity does not go on as you could wish
it. It is shrunk indeed by your admitting only 60 children in a year.
What you have told your brethren respecting America is true. If you
find it difficult to dispose of your children in England, it looks
as if you had too many people. And yet you are afraid of emigration.
A subscription is lately set on foot here to encourage and assist
mothers in nursing their infants themselves at home; the practice of
sending them to the _Enfans Trouvés_ having risen here to a monstrous
excess, as by the annual bills it appears they amount to near one
third of the children born in Paris. This subscription is likely to
succeed, and may do a great deal of good, though it cannot answer all
the purposes of a foundling hospital.
Your eyes must continue very good, since you are able to write so
small a hand without spectacles. I cannot distinguish a letter even
of large print, but am happy in the invention of double spectacles,
which, serving for distant objects as well as near ones, make my
eyes as useful to me as ever they were. If all the other defects and
infirmities of old age could be as easily and cheaply remedied, it
would be worth while, my friend, to live a good deal longer. But I
look upon death to be as necessary to our constitutions as sleep. We
shall rise refreshed in the morning.--Adieu, and believe me ever,
Your's most affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
Letter II.
_Passy, May 19, 1785._
DEAR OLD FRIEND,
I received the very good letter you sent me by my grandson, together
with your resemblance, which is placed in my chamber and gives me
great pleasure: there is no trade, they say, without returns, and
therefore I am punctual in making those you have ordered. I intended
this should have been a long epistle, but I am interrupted, and can
only add, that I am ever,
Yours, most affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
My grandson presents his most affectionate respects.
Letter III.
_Passy, May 23, 1785._
DEAR OLD FRIEND,
I sent you a few lines the other day with the medallion, when I
should have written more, but was prevented by the coming in of a
_bavard_, who worried me till evening. I bore with him, and now you
are to bear with me, for I shall probably _bavarder_ in answering
your letter.
I am not acquainted with the saying of Alphonsus, which you allude to
as a sanctification of your rigidity in refusing to allow me the plea
of old age as an excuse for my want of exactitude in correspondence.
What was that saying?--You do not, it seems, feel any occasion for
such an excuse, though you are, as you say, rising 75, but I am
rising (perhaps more properly falling) 80--and I leave the excuse
with you till you arrive at that age; perhaps you may then be more
sensible of its validity, and see fit to use it for yourself.
I must agree with you, that the gout is bad, and that the stone is
worse. I am happy in not having them both together, and I join in
your prayer, that you may live till you die without either. But I
doubt the author of the epitaph you sent me is a little mistaken,
when, speaking of the world, he says, that
----------------He ne'er car'd a pin
What they said or may say of the mortal within.
It is so natural to wish to be well spoken of, whether alive or dead,
that I imagine he could not be quite exempt from that desire, and
that at least he wished to be thought a wit, or he would not have
given himself the trouble of writing so good an epitaph to leave
behind him. Was it not worthy of his care, that the world should
say he was an honest and a good man? I like better the concluding
sentiment in the old song, called the old man's wish, wherein, after
wishing for a warm house in a country town, an easy horse, some good
old authors, ingenious and cheerful companions, pudding on Sundays,
with stout ale and a bottle of burgundy, &c. &c. in separate
stanzas, each ending with this burden,
May I govern my passions with absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as strength wears away,
Without gout or stone by a gentle decay--
he adds for the last stanza,
With courage undaunted may I face my last day,
And when I am gone may the better sort say,
In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow,
He's gone--and not left behind him his fellow.
For he govern'd his passions, &c.
What signifies our wishing? Things happen after all as they will
happen. I have sung that _wishing song_ a thousand times when I was
young, and now find at fourscore, that the three contraries have
befallen me, being subject to the gout, and the stone, and not being
yet master of all my passions. Like the proud girl in my country,
who wished and resolved not to marry a parson, nor a presbyterian,
nor an Irishman, and at length found herself married to an Irish
presbyterian parson! You see I have some reason to wish that in a
future state I may not only be _as well as I was_, but a little
better. And I hope it: for I too, with your poet, _trust in God_. And
when I observe, that there is great frugality as well as wisdom in
his works, since he has been evidently sparing, both of labour and
materials; for by the various wonderful inventions of propagation,
he has provided for the continual peopling his world with plants and
animals without being at the trouble of repeated new creations; and
by the natural reduction of compound substances to their original
elements, capable of being employed in new compositions, he has
prevented the necessity of creating new matter; for that the earth,
water, air, and perhaps fire, which being compounded, form wood, do,
when the wood is dissolved, return, and again become air, earth, fire
and water:--I say, that when I see nothing annihilated, and not even
a drop of water wasted, I cannot suspect the annihilation of souls,
or believe that he will suffer the daily waste of millions of minds
ready made that now exist, and put himself to the continual trouble
of making new ones. Thus finding myself to exist in the world, I
believe I shall in some shape or other always exist. And with all the
inconveniences human _life_ is liable to, I shall not object to a new
edition of mine; hoping, however, that the errata of the last may be
corrected.
I return your note of children received in the foundling hospital
at Paris, from 1741 to 1755 inclusive, and I have added the
years preceding, as far back as 1710, together with the general
christenings of the city; and the years succeeding, down to 1770.
Those since that period I have not been able to obtain. I have noted
in the margin the gradual increase, viz. from every tenth child so
thrown upon the public, till it comes to every third. Fifteen years
have passed since the last account, and probably it may now amount
to one half. Is it right to encourage this monstrous deficiency of
natural affection? A surgeon I met with here excused the women of
Paris, by saying seriously, that they _could not_ give suck, _Car,
dit-il, ils n'ont point de tetons_. He assured me it was a fact, and
bade me look at them, and observe how flat they were on the breast;
they have nothing more there, says he, than I have upon the back
of my hand. I have since thought that there might be some truth in
his observation, and that possibly Nature finding they made no use
of bubbies, has left off giving them any. Yet since Rousseau, with
admirable eloquence pleaded for the rights of children to their
mother's milk, the mode has changed a little, and some ladies of
quality now suckle their infants and find milk enough. May the mode
descend to the lower ranks, till it becomes no longer the custom to
pack their infants away, as soon as born, to the _Enfants Trouvés_,
with the careless observation, that the king is better able to
maintain them. I am credibly informed, that nine-tenths of them
die there pretty soon; which is said to be a great relief to the
institution, whose funds would not otherwise be sufficient to bring
up the remainder. Except the few persons of quality above-mentioned,
and the multitude who send to the hospital, the practice is to hire
nurses in the country, to carry out the children and take care of
them there. Here is an office for examining the health of nurses and
giving them licences. They come to town on certain days of the week
in companies to receive the children, and we often meet trains of
them on the road returning to the neighbouring villages with each
a child in arms. But those who are good enough to try this way of
raising their children are often not able to pay the expence, so that
the prisons of Paris are crouded with wretched fathers and mothers
confined _pour mois de nourice_; though it is laudably a favourite
charity to pay for them, and set such prisoners at liberty. I wish
success to the new project of assisting the poor to keep their
children at home, because I think there is no nurse like a mother (or
not many) and that if parents did not immediately send their infants
out of their sight, they would in a few days begin to love them, and
thence be spurred to greater industry for their maintenance. This is
a subject you understand better than I, and therefore, having perhaps
said too much, I drop it. I only add to the notes a remark from the
history of the Academy of Sciences, much in favour of the foundling
institution.
The Philadelphia bank goes on, as I hear, very well. What you call
the Cincinnati institution is no institution of our government, but
a private convention among the officers of our late army, and so
universally disliked by the people, that it is supposed it will be
dropped. It was considered as an attempt to establish something like
an hereditary rank or nobility. I hold with you that it was wrong;
may I add, that all descending honours are wrong and absurd; that
the honour of virtuous actions appertains only to him that performs
them, and is in its nature incommunicable. If it were communicable
by descent, it must also be divisible among the descendants, and
the more ancient the family the less would be found existing in any
one branch of it; to say nothing of the greater chance of unlucky
interruptions.
Our constitution seems not to be well understood with you. If the
congress were a permanent body, there would be more reason in being
jealous of giving it powers. But its members are chosen annually, and
cannot be chosen more than three years successively, nor more than
three years in seven, and any of them may be recalled at any time,
whenever their constituents shall be dissatisfied with their conduct.
They are of the people, and return again to mix with the people,
having no more durable pre-eminence than the different grains of sand
in an hour-glass. Such an assembly cannot easily become dangerous
to liberty. They are the servants of the people, sent together to do
the people's business and promote the public welfare; their powers
must be sufficient, or their duties cannot be performed. They have
no profitable appointments, but a mere payment of daily wages, such
as are scarcely equivalent to their expences, so that having no
chance for great places and enormous salaries or pensions, as in some
countries, there is no briguing or bribing for elections. I wish old
England were as happy in its government, but I do not see it. Your
people, however, think their constitution the best in the world, and
affect to despise ours. It is comfortable to have a good opinion of
one's self, and of every thing that belongs to us, to think one's own
religion, king, and wife, the best of all possible wives, kings, and
religions. I remember three Greenlanders, who had travelled two years
in Europe, under the care of some Moravian missionaries, and had
visited Germany, Denmark, Holland and England, when I asked them at
Philadelphia (when they were in their way home) whether, now they had
seen how much more commodiously the white people lived by the help of
the arts, they would not chuse to remain among us--their answer was,
that they were pleased with having had an opportunity of seeing many
fine things, _but they chose to live in their own country_: which
country, by the way, consisted of rock only, for the Moravians were
obliged to carry earth in their ship from New York, for the purpose
of making there a cabbage garden!
By Mr. Dollond's saying, that my double spectacles could only serve
particular eyes, I doubt he has not been rightly informed of their
construction, I imagine it will be found pretty generally true, that
the same convexity of glass through which a man sees clearest and
best at the distance proper for reading, is not the best for greater
distances. I therefore had formerly two pair of spectacles, which I
shifted occasionally, as in travelling I sometimes read and often
want to regard the prospects. Finding this change troublesome, and
not always sufficiently ready, I had the glasses cut out and half
of each kind associated in the same circle, the least convex, for
distant objects the upper half, and the most convex, for reading,
the lower half: by this means, as I wear my spectacles constantly,
I have only to move my eyes up or down, as I want to see distinctly
far or near, the proper glasses being always ready. This I find more
particularly convenient since my being in France; the glasses that
serve me best at table to see what I eat, being the best to see the
faces of those on the other side of the table who speak to me, and
when one's ears are not well accustomed to the sounds of a language,
a sight of the movements in the features of him that speaks helps
to explain; so that I understand French better by the help of my
spectacles.
My intended translator of your piece, the only one I know who
understands _the subject_ as well as the two languages, which a
translator ought to do, or he cannot make so good a translation, is
at present occupied in an affair that prevents his undertaking it;
but that will soon be over.--I thank you for the notes. I should be
glad to have another of the printed pamphlets.
We shall always be ready to take your children, if you send them to
us; I only wonder, that since London draws to itself and consumes
such numbers of your country people, your country should not, to
supply their places, want and willingly receive the children you have
to dispose of. That circumstance, together with the multitude who
voluntarily part with their freedom as men, to serve for a time as
lacqueys, or for life as soldiers in consideration of small wages,
seems to me a proof that your island is over-peopled, and yet it is
afraid of emigrations! Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever,
Yours, very affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
Letter IV.
_Philadelphia, May 18, 1787._
I received duly my good old friend's letter of the 19th of February,
with a copy of one from Mr. Williams, to whom I shall communicate it
when I see him, which I expect soon to do. He is generally a punctual
correspondent, and I am surprised you have not heard from him.
I thank you much for your notes on banks; they are just and
solid, as far as I can judge of them. Our bank here has met with
great opposition, partly from envy, and partly from those who
wish an emission of more paper-money, which they think the bank
influence prevents. But it has stood all attacks, and went on well
notwithstanding the assembly repealed its charter; a new assembly has
restored it; and the management is so prudent, that I have no doubt
of its continuing to go on well. The dividend has never been less
than 6 per cent, nor will that be augmented for some time, as the
surplus profit is reserved to face accidents. The dividend of 11 per
cent, which was once made, was from a circumstance scarce avoidable.
A new company was proposed, and prevented only by admitting a number
of new partners. As many of the first set were averse to this, and
chose to withdraw; it was necessary to settle their accounts; so all
were adjusted, the profits shared that had been accumulated, and the
new and old proprietors jointly began on a new and equal footing.
Their notes are always instantly paid on demand, and pass on all
occasions as readily as silver, because they will always produce
silver.
Your medallion is in good company, it is placed with those of Lord
Chatham, Lord Camden, Marquis of Rockingham, Sir George Savil, and
some others, who honoured me with a share of friendly regard when in
England. I believe I have thanked you for it, but I thank you again.
I believe with you, that if our plenipotentiary is desirous of
concluding a treaty of commerce, he may need patience. But if I were
in his place, and not otherwise instructed, I should be apt to say,
Take your own time, gentlemen. If the treaty cannot be made as much
to your advantage as to ours, don't make it. I am sure the want of it
is not more to our disadvantage than to yours. Let the merchants on
both sides treat with one another. _Laissez les faire._
I have never considered attentively the congress scheme for coining,
and I have it not now at hand, so that at present I can say nothing
to it. The chief uses of coining seem to be ascertaining the fineness
of the metals, and saving the time that would otherwise be spent in
weighing to ascertain the quantity. But the convenience of fixed
values to pieces is so great as to force the currency of some whose
stamp is worn off, that should have assured their fineness, and which
are evidently not of half their due weight; this is the case at
present with the sixpences in England, which one with another do not
weigh three-pence.
You are now 78, and I am 82. You tread fast upon my heels: but,
though you have more strength and spirit, you cannot come up with
me till I stop; which must now be soon; for I am grown so old as to
have buried most of the friends of my youth; and I now often hear
persons, whom I knew when children, called _old_ Mr. such a one, to
distinguish them from their sons now men grown, and in business; so
that by living twelve years beyond _David's_ period, I seem to have
intruded myself into the company of posterity, when I ought to have
been a-bed and asleep. Yet had I gone at 70, it would have cut off 12
of the most active years of my life, employed too in matters of the
greatest importance; but whether I have been doing good or mischief,
is for time to discover. I only know that I intended well, and I hope
all will end well.
Be so good as to present my affectionate respects to Dr. Rowley. I
am under great obligations to him, and shall write to him shortly.
It will be a pleasure to him to hear that my malady does not grow
sensibly worse, and that is a great point: for it has always been so
tolerable, as not to prevent my enjoying the pleasures of society,
and being cheerful in conversation. I owe this in a great measure to
his good counsels.
Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever,
Yours, most affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
_Geo. Whatley, Esq._
FOOTNOTE:
[202] These letters did not come into our possession till the
preceding sheets and even the subsequent appendix were printed. We
are indebted for them to Mr. I. T. Rutt, the originals of which were
put into his hands about twelve years ago by a relation of his, the
nephew of the gentleman to whom they were addressed. "Mr. Whatley,
the friend of Dr. Franklin," Mr. Rutt informs us, "had engaged in
mercantile pursuits, and was for some time a British consul in the
Mediterranean. During the latter years of his life, he devoted his
time to various objects of public utility, for which he was well
qualified, and particularly attached himself to the interests of
the Foundling Hospital, of which he was the treasurer. He died in
1791, aged 82, having survived his correspondent not quite a year."
_Editor._
APPENDIX, No. II.
CONTAINING LETTERS, BY SEVERAL EMINENT PERSONS, ILLUSTRATIVE OF DR.
FRANKLIN'S MANNERS AND CHARACTER.
_Letter from the late Dr. Price to a Gentleman in America._
_Hackney, June 19, 1790._
DEAR SIR,
I am hardly able to tell you how kindly I take the letters with which
you favour me. Your last, containing an account of the death of our
excellent friend, Dr. Franklin, and the circumstances attending it,
deserves my particular gratitude. The account which he has left of
his life will show, in a striking example, how a man, by talents,
industry, and integrity, may rise from obscurity to the first
eminence and consequence in the world; but it brings his history no
lower than the year 1757, and I understand, that since he sent over
the copy, which I have read, he has been able to make no additions to
it. It is with a melancholy regret I think of his death; but to death
we are all bound by the irreversible order of nature, and in looking
forward to it, there is comfort in being able to reflect--that we
have not lived in vain, and that all the useful and virtuous shall
meet in a better country beyond the grave.
Dr. Franklin, in the last letter I received from him, after
mentioning his age and infirmities, observes, that it has been
kindly ordered by the author of nature, that, as we draw nearer the
conclusion of life, we are furnished with more helps to wean us from
it, among which one of the strongest is the loss of dear friends. I
was delighted with the account you gave in your letter of the honour
shown to his memory at Philadelphia, and by congress; and yesterday
I received a high additional pleasure, by being informed, that the
national assembly of France had determined to go into mourning for
him[203].--What a glorious scene is opened there! The annals of the
world furnish no parallel to it. One of the honours of our departed
friend is, that he has contributed much to it.
I am, with great respect,
Your obliged and very
humble servant,
RICHARD PRICE.
FOOTNOTE:
[203] Congress ordered a general mourning throughout the United
States for a month: the national assembly of France decreed, that
the assembly do wear mourning for three days, that a funeral oration
be delivered by M. Mirabeau, the elder, and that the president
write a letter of condolence to congress: and the common-council of
Paris paid the extraordinary tribute, of attending in a body at a
funeral oration, delivered by the Abbe Fauchet, in the Rotunda of the
market-place, which was hung with black, illuminated with chandeliers
and rows of lamps, and decorated with suitable devices. _Editor._
_Letter from Mr. Thomas Jefferson to the late Dr. William Smith, of
Philadelphia[204]._
I feel both the wish and the duty to communicate, in compliance with
your request, whatever, within my knowledge, might render justice to
the memory of our great countryman, Dr. Franklin, in whom philosophy
has to deplore one of its principal luminaries extinguished. But my
opportunities of knowing the interesting facts of his life have not
been equal to my desire of making them known.
I can only, therefore, testify in general, that there appeared
to me more respect and veneration attached to the character of
Dr. Franklin in France, than to that of any other person in the
same country, foreign or native. I had opportunities of knowing
particularly, how far these sentiments were felt by the foreign
ambassadors and ministers at the court of Versailles. The fable of
his capture by the Algerines, propagated by the English newspapers,
excited no uneasiness, as it was seen at once to be a dish cooked up
to please certain readers; but nothing could exceed the anxiety of
his diplomatic brethren on a subsequent report of his death, which,
although premature, bore some marks of authenticity.
I found the ministers of France equally impressed with his talents
and integrity. The count de Vergennes, particularly, gave me repeated
and unequivocal demonstrations of his entire confidence in him.
When he left Passy, it seemed as if the village had lost its
patriarch. On taking leave of the court, which he did by letter, the
king ordered him to be handsomely complimented, and furnished him
with a litter and mules of his own, the only kind of conveyance the
state of his health could bear.