and _Knicknacks_. You call them _Goods_, but if you do not
take Care, they will prove _Evils_ to some of you. You expect
they will be sold _cheap_, and perhaps they may for less than
they cost; but if you have no Occasion for them, they must be
_dear_ to you. Remember what _Poor Richard_ says, _Buy what
thou hast no Need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
Necessaries_. And again, _At a great Pennyworth pause a
while_: He means, that perhaps the Cheapness is _apparent_
only, and not _real_; or the Bargain, by straitning thee in
thy Business, may do thee more Harm than Good. For in another
Place he says, _Many have been ruined by buying good
Pennyworths_. Again, _Poor Richard_ says, _'Tis foolish to
lay out Money in a Purchase of Repentance_; and yet this
Folly is practised every Day at Vendues, for want of minding
the Almanack. _Wise Men_, as _Poor Dick_ says, _learn by
others Harms, Fools scarcely by their own_; but _Felix quem
faciunt aliena Pericula cautum_. Many a one, for the Sake of
Finery on the Back, have gone with a hungry Belly, and half
starved their Families; _Silks and Sattins, Scarlet and
Velvets_, as _Poor Richard_ says, _put out the Kitchen Fire_.
These are not the _Necessaries_ of Life; they can scarcely be
called the _Conveniencies_, and yet only because they look
pretty, how many _want_ to _have_ them. The _artificial_
Wants of Mankind thus become more numerous than the
_natural_; and, as _Poor Dick_ says, _For one_ poor _Person,
there are an hundred_ indigent. By these, and other
Extravagancies, the Genteel are reduced to Poverty, and
forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but
who through _Industry_ and _Frugality_ have maintained their
Standing; in which Case it appears plainly, that a _Ploughman
on his Legs is higher than a Gentleman on his Knees_, as
_Poor Richard_ says. Perhaps they have had a small Estate
left them which they knew not the Getting of; they think
_'tis Day, and will never be Night_; that a little to be
spent out of _so much_, is not worth minding; (_a Child and a
Fool_, as _Poor Richard_ says, _imagine_ Twenty Shillings _and
Twenty Years can never be spent_) but, _always taking out of,
the Meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the
Bottom_; then, as _Poor Dick_ says, _When the Well's dry,
they know the Worth of Water_. But this they might have known
before, if they had taken his Advice; _If you would know the
Value of Money, go and try to borrow some_; for, _he that
goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing_; and indeed so does he
that lends to such People, when he goes _to get it in
again_.--_Poor Dick_ farther advises, and says,
_Fond_ Pride of Dress _is sure a very Curse;
E'er_ Fancy _you consult, consult your Purse._
And again, _Pride is as loud a Beggar as Want, and a great
deal more saucy_. When you have bought one fine Thing you
must buy ten more, that your Appearance may be all of a
Piece; but _Poor Dick_ says, _'Tis easier to_ suppress _the
first Desire, than to_ satisfy _all that follow it_. And 'tis
as truly Folly for the Poor to ape the Rich, as for the Frog
to swell, in order to equal the Ox.
_Great Estates may venture more,
But little Boats should keep near Shore._
'Tis however a Folly soon punished; for _Pride that dines on
Vanity sups on Contempt_, as _Poor Richard_ says. And in
another Place, _Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with
Poverty, and supped with Infamy_. And after all, of what Use
is this _Pride of Appearance_, for which so much is risked,
so much is suffered? It cannot promote Health, or ease Pain;
it makes no Increase of Merit in the Person, it creates Envy,
it hastens Misfortune.
_What is a Butterfly? At best
He's but a Caterpillar drest.
The gaudy Fop's his Picture just,_
as _Poor Richard_ says.
But what Madness must it be to _run in Debt_ for these
Superfluities! We are offered, by the Terms of this Vendue,
_Six Months Credit_; and that perhaps has induced some of us
to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready Money, and
hope now to be fine without it. But, ah, think what you do
when you run in Debt; _You give to another, Power over your
Liberty_. If you cannot pay at the Time, you will be ashamed
to see your Creditor; you will be in Fear when you speak to
him; you will make poor pitiful sneaking Excuses, and by
Degrees come to lose your Veracity, and sink into base
downright lying; for, as _Poor Richard_ says, _The second
Vice is Lying, the first is running in Debt_. And again, to
the same Purpose, _Lying rides upon Debt's Back_. Whereas a
freeborn _Englishman_ ought not to be ashamed or afraid to
see or speak to any Man living. But Poverty often deprives a
Man of all Spirit and Virtue: _'Tis hard for an empty Bag to
stand upright_, as _Poor Richard_ truly says. What would you
think of that Prince, or that Government, who should issue an
Edict forbidding you to dress like a Gentleman or a
Gentlewoman, on Pain of Imprisonment or Servitude? Would you
not say, that you are free, have a Right to dress as you
please, and that such an Edict would be a Breach of your
Privileges, and such a Government tyrannical? And yet you are
about to put yourself under that Tyranny when you run in Debt
for such Dress! Your Creditor has Authority at his Pleasure
to deprive you of your Liberty, by confining you in Goal
[_sic_] for Life, or to sell you for a Servant, if you should
not be able to pay him! When you have got your Bargain, you
may, perhaps, think little of Payment; but _Creditors_, _Poor
Richard_ tells us, _have better Memories than Debtors_; and
in another Place says, _Creditors are a superstitious Sect,
great Observers of set Days and Times_. The Day comes round
before you are aware, and the Demand is made before you are
prepared to satisfy it. Or if you bear your Debt in Mind, the
Term which at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens,
appear extreamly short. _Time_ will seem to have added Wings
to his Heels as well as Shoulders. _Those have a short Lent_,
saith _Poor Richard_, _who owe Money to be paid at Easter_.
Then since, as he says, _The Borrower is a Slave to the
Lender, and the Debtor to the Creditor_, disdain the Chain,
preserve your Freedom; and maintain your Independency: Be
_industrious_ and _free_; be _frugal_ and _free_. At present,
perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving Circumstances,
and that you can bear a little Extravangance [_sic_] without
Injury; but,
_For Age and Want, save while you may;
No Morning Sun lasts a whole Day,_
as _Poor Richard_ says--Gain may be temporary and uncertain,
but ever while you live, Expence is constant and certain; and
_'tis easier to build two Chimnies than to keep one in Fuel_,
as _Poor Richard_ says. So _rather go to Bed supperless than
rise in Debt_.
_Get what you can, and what you get hold;
'Tis the Stone that will turn all your Lead into Gold,_
as _Poor Richard_ says. And when you have got the
Philosopher's Stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad
Times, or the Difficulty of paying Taxes.
This Doctrine, my Friends, is _Reason_ and _Wisdom_; but
after all, do not depend too much upon your own _Industry_,
and _Frugality_, and _Prudence_, though excellent Things, for
they may all be blasted without the Blessing of Heaven; and
therefore ask that Blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable
to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and
help them. Remember _Job_ suffered, and was afterwards
prosperous.
And now to conclude, _Experience keeps a dear School, but
Fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that_; for it is
true, _we may give Advice, but we cannot give Conduct_, as
_Poor Richard_ says: However, remember this, _They that won't
be counselled, can't be helped_, as _Poor Richard_ says: And
farther, That _if you will not hear Reason, she'll surely rap
your Knuckles_."
Thus the old Gentleman ended his Harangue. The People heard it, and
approved the Doctrine and immediately practised the contrary, just as if
it had been a common Sermon; for the Vendue opened, and they began to
buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his Cautions, and their own Fear
of Taxes.--I found the good Man had thoroughly studied my Almanacks,
and digested all I had dropt on those Topicks during the Course of
Five-and-twenty Years. The frequent Mention he made of me must have
tired any one else, but my Vanity was wonderfully delighted with it,
though I was conscious that not a tenth Part of the Wisdom was my own
which he ascribed to me, but rather the _Gleanings_ I had made of the
Sense of all Ages and Nations. However, I resolved to be the better for
the Echo of it; and though I had at first determined to buy Stuff for a
new Coat, I went away resolved to wear my old One a little longer.
_Reader_, if thou wilt do the same, thy Profit will be as great as mine.
_I am, as ever,
Thine to serve thee,_
_July 7, 1757._ RICHARD SAUNDERS.
TO HUGH ROBERTS
London, September 16, 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, that
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.[54] 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 favour, because it will afford me pleasure. I know how
to make you ample returns for such favours, 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 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.
TO MRS. JANE MECOM
London, September 16, 1758.
DEAR SISTER,
I received your favour of June 17. 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-humoured 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 acrostick 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; 'tis 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 choak
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."
'Tis 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--and when you mention
virtue, pucker up their noses as if they smelt a stink; at the same time
that they eagerly snuff up an empty canting harangue, as if it was a
posey of the choicest flowers: So they have inverted the good old verse,
and say now
"A man of deeds and not of words
Is like a garden full of ----"
I have forgot the rhyme, but remember 'tis something the very reverse of
perfume. 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.
TO LORD KAMES[55]
London, May 3, 1760.
MY DEAR LORD,
I have endeavoured to comply with your request in writing something on
the present situation of our affairs in America, in order to give more
correct notions of the British interest with regard to the colonies,
than those I found many sensible men possessed of. Inclosed you have
the production, such as it is. I wish it may in any degree be of service
to the public. I shall at least hope this from it, for my own part, that
you will consider it as a letter from me to you, and take its length as
some excuse for being so long a-coming.[56]
I am now reading with great pleasure and improvement your excellent
work, _The Principles of Equity_. It will be of the greatest advantage
to the Judges in our colonies, not only in those which have Courts of
Chancery, but also in those which, having no such courts, are obliged to
mix equity with the common law. It will be of more service to the colony
Judges, as few of them have been bred to the law. I have sent a book to
a particular friend, one of the Judges of the Supreme Court in
Pennsylvania.
I will shortly send you a copy of the Chapter you are pleased to mention
in so obliging a manner; and shall be extremely obliged in receiving a
copy of the collection of _Maxims for the Conduct of Life_, which you
are preparing for the use of your children. I purpose likewise a little
work for the benefit of youth, to be called _The Art of Virtue_.[57]
From the title I think you will hardly conjecture what the nature of
such a book may be. I must therefore explain it a little. Many people
lead bad lives that would gladly lead good ones, but know not _how_ to
make the change. They have frequently _resolved_ and _endeavoured_ it;
but in vain, because their endeavours have not been properly conducted.
To expect people to be good, to be just, to be temperate, &c., without
_shewing_ them _how_ they should _become_ so, seems like the ineffectual
charity mentioned by the Apostle, which consisted in saying to the
hungry, the cold, and the naked, "Be ye fed, be ye warmed, be ye
clothed," without shewing them how they should get food, fire, or
clothing.
Most people have naturally _some_ virtues, but none have naturally _all_
the virtues. To _acquire_ those that are wanting, and secure what we
acquire, as well as those we have naturally, is the subject of _an art_.
It is as properly an art as painting, navigation, or architecture. If a
man would become a painter, navigator, or architect, it is not enough
that he is _advised_ to be one, that he is _convinced_ by the arguments
of his adviser, that it would be for his advantage to be one, and that
he resolves to be one, but he must also be taught the principles of the
art, be shewn all the methods of working, and how to acquire the habits
of using properly all the instruments; and thus regularly and gradually
he arrives, by practice, at some perfection in the art. If he does not
proceed thus, he is apt to meet with difficulties that discourage him,
and make him drop the pursuit.
My _Art of Virtue_ has also its instruments, and teaches the manner of
using them. Christians are directed to have faith in Christ, as the
effectual means of obtaining the change they desire. It may, when
sufficiently strong, be effectual with many: for a full opinion, that a
Teacher is infinitely wise, good, and powerful, and that he will
certainly reward and punish the obedient and disobedient, must give
great weight to his precepts, and make them much more attended to by his
disciples. But many have this faith in so weak a degree, that it does
not produce the effect. Our _Art of Virtue_ may, therefore, be of great
service to those whose faith is unhappily not so strong, and may come in
aid of its weakness. Such as are naturally well disposed, and have been
so carefully educated, as that good habits have been early established,
and bad ones prevented, have less need of this art; but all may be more
or less benefited by it. It is, in short, to be adapted for universal
use. I imagine what I have now been writing will seem to savour of great
presumption: I must therefore speedily finish my little piece, and
communicate the manuscript to you, that you may judge whether it is
possible to make good such pretensions. I shall at the same time hope
for the benefit of your corrections. I am, &c.
B. FRANKLIN.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON[58]
Craven Street, June 11, 1760.
DEAR POLLY:
'Tis a very sensible Question you ask, how the Air can affect the
Barometer, when its Opening appears covered with Wood? If indeed it was
so closely covered as to admit of no Communication of the outward Air to
the Surface of the Mercury, the Change of Weight in the Air could not
possibly affect it. But the least Crevice is sufficient for the Purpose;
a Pinhole will do the Business. And if you could look behind the Frame
to which your Barometer is fixed, you would certainly find some small
Opening.
There are indeed some Barometers in which the Body of Mercury at the
lower End is contain'd in a close Leather Bag, and so the Air cannot
come into immediate Contact with the Mercury; yet the same Effect is
produc'd. For, the Leather being flexible, when the Bag is press'd by
any additional Weight of Air, it contracts, and the Mercury is forced up
into the Tube; when the Air becomes lighter, and its Pressure less, the
Weight of the Mercury prevails, and it descends again into the Bag.
Your Observation on what you have lately read concerning Insects is very
just and solid. Superficial Minds are apt to despise those who make that
Part of the Creation their Study, as mere Triflers; but certainly the
World has been much oblig'd to them. Under the Care and Management of
Man, the Labours of the little Silkworm afford Employment and
Subsistence to Thousands of Families, and become an immense Article of
Commerce. The Bee, too, yields us its delicious Honey, and its Wax
useful to a Multitude of Purposes. Another Insect, it is said, produces
the Cochineal, from whence we have our rich Scarlet Dye. The Usefulness
of the Cantharides, or Spanish Flies, in Medicine, is known to all, and
Thousands owe their Lives to that Knowledge. By human Industry and
Observation, other Properties of other Insects may possibly be hereafter
discovered, and of equal Utility. A thorough Acquaintance with the
Nature of these little Creatures may also enable Mankind to prevent the
Increase of such as are noxious, or secure us against the Mischiefs they
occasion. These Things doubtless your Books make mention of: I can only
add a particular late Instance which I had from a Swedish Gentleman of
good Credit. In the green Timber, intended for Ship-building at the
King's Yards in that Country, a kind of Worms were found, which every
year became more numerous and more pernicious, so that the Ships were
greatly damag'd before they came into Use. The King sent Linnæus, the
great Naturalist, from Stockholm, to enquire into the Affair, and see if
the Mischief was capable of any Remedy. He found, on Examination, that
the Worm was produced from a small Egg, deposited in the little
Roughnesses on the Surface of the Wood, by a particular kind of Fly or
Beetle; from whence the Worm, as soon as it was hatched, began to eat
into the Substance of the Wood, and after some time came out again a Fly
of the Parent kind, and so the Species increased. The season in which
this Fly laid its Eggs, Linnæus knew to be about a Fortnight (I think)
in the Month of May, and at no other time of the Year. He therefore
advis'd, that, some Days before that Season, all the green Timber should
be thrown into the Water, and kept under Water till the Season was over.
Which being done by the King's Order, the Flies missing their usual
Nest, could not increase; and the Species was either destroy'd or went
elsewhere; and the Wood was effectually preserved; for, after the first
Year, it became too dry and hard for their purpose.
There is, however, a prudent Moderation to be used in Studies of this
kind. The Knowledge of Nature may be ornamental, and it may be useful;
but if, to attain an Eminence in that, we neglect the Knowledge and
Practice of essential Duties, we deserve Reprehension. For there is no
Rank in Natural Knowledge of equal Dignity and Importance with that of
being a good Parent, a good Child, a good Husband or Wife, a good
Neighbour or Friend, a good Subject or Citizen, that is, in short, a
good Christian. Nicholas Gimcrack, therefore, who neglected the Care of
his Family, to pursue Butterflies, was a just Object of Ridicule, and we
must give him up as fair Game to the satyrist.
Adieu, my dear Friend, and believe me ever
Yours affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN
London, June 27, 1760.
MY DEAR CHILD,