I promis'd to write you fully by Capt. Budden, and answer all your
Letters, which I accordingly now sit down to do. I am concern'd that so
much Trouble should be given you by idle Reports concerning me. Be
satisfied, my dear, that while I have my Senses, and God vouchsafes me
his Protection, I shall do nothing unworthy the Character of an honest
Man, and one that loves his Family.
I have not yet seen Mr. Beatty, nor do I know where to write to him. He
forwarded your Letter to me from Ireland. The Paragraph of your Letter
inserted in the Papers, related to the Negro School. I gave it to the
Gentlemen concern'd, as it was a Testimony in favour of their pious
Design. But I did not expect they would have printed it with your Name.
They have since chosen [me] one of the Society, and I am at present
Chairman for the current year. I enclose you an Account of their
Proceedings.[59]
I did not receive the _Prospect of Quebec_, which you mention that you
sent me. Peter continues with me, and behaves as well as I can expect,
in a Country where there are many Occasions of spoiling Servants, if
they are ever so good. He has as few Faults as most of them, and I see
with only one Eye, and hear only with one Ear; so we rub on pretty
comfortably. King, that you enquire after, is not with us. He ran away
from our House, near two Years ago, while we were absent in the Country;
But was soon found in Suffolk, where he had been taken in the Service of
a Lady, that was very fond of the Merit of making him a Christian, and
contributing to his Education and Improvement. As he was of little Use,
and often in Mischief, Billy consented to her keeping him while we stay
in England. So the Lady sent him to School, has him taught to read and
write, to play on the Violin and French Horn, with some other
Accomplishments more useful in a Servant. Whether she will finally be
willing to part with him, or persuade Billy to sell him to her, I know
not. In the mean time he is no Expence to us. The dried Venison was very
acceptable, and I thank you for it. We have had it constantly shav'd to
eat with our Bread and Butter for Breakfast, and this Week saw the last
of it. The Bacon still holds out, for we are choice of it. Some Rashers
of it, yesterday relish'd a Dish of Green Pease. Mrs. Stevenson thinks
there was never any in England so good. The smok'd Beef was also
excellent.
The Accounts you give me of the Marriages of our friends are very
agreeable. I love to hear of every thing that tends to increase the
Number of good People. You cannot conceive how shamefully the Mode here
is a single Life. One can scarce be in the Company of a Dozen Men of
Circumstance and Fortune, but what it is odds that you find on enquiry
eleven of them are single. The great Complaint is the excessive
Expensiveness of English Wives.
I am extreamly concern'd with you at the Misfortune of our Friend Mr.
Griffith. How could it possibly happen? 'Twas a terrible Fire that of
Boston. I shall contribute here towards the Relief of the Sufferers. Our
Relations have escap'd I believe generally; but some of my particular
Friends must have suffer'd greatly.
I think you will not complain this Year, as you did the last, of being
so long without a Letter. I have wrote to you very frequently; and shall
not be so much out of the Way of writing this Summer as I was the last.
I hope our friend Bartram is safely return'd to his Family. Remember me
to him in the kindest Manner.
Poor David Edwards died this Day Week, of a Consumption. I had a Letter
from a Friend of his, acquainting me that he had been long ill, and
incapable of doing his Business, and was at Board in the Country. I
fear'd he might be in Straits, as he never was prudent enough to lay up
any thing. So I wrote to him immediately, that, if he had occasion, he
might draw on me for Five Guineas. But he died before my Letter got to
hand. I hear the Woman, at whose House he long lodg'd and boarded, has
buried him and taken all he left, which could not be much, and there are
some small Debts unpaid. He maintained a good Character at Bury, where
he lived some years, and was well respected, to my Knowledge, by some
Persons of Note there. I wrote to you before, that we saw him at Bury,
when we went thro' Suffolk into Norfolk, the Year before last. I hope
his good Father, my old Friend, continues well.
Give my Duty to Mother, and Love to my dear Sally. Remember me
affectionately to all Enquiring Friends, and believe me ever, my dearest
Debby, your loving Husband,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO JARED INGERSOLL[60]
Philadelphia, December 11, 1762.
DEAR SIR:--
I thank you for your kind congratulations. It gives me pleasure to hear
from an old friend; it will give me much more pleasure to see him. I
hope, therefore, nothing will prevent the journey you propose for next
summer and the favour you intend me of a visit. I believe I must make a
journey early in the spring to Virginia, but purpose being back again
before the hot weather. You will be kind enough to let me know
beforehand what time you expect to be here, that I may not be out of the
way, for that would mortify me exceedingly.
I should be glad to know what it is that distinguishes Connecticut
religion from common religion. Communicate, if you please, some of these
particulars that you think will amuse me as a virtuoso. When I travelled
in Flanders, I thought of your excessively strict observation of Sunday;
and that a man could hardly travel on that day among you upon his lawful
occasions without hazard of punishment; while, where I was, every one
travelled, if he pleased, or diverted himself in any other way; and in
the afternoon both high and low went to the play or the opera, where
there was plenty of singing, fiddling and dancing. I looked around for
God's judgments, but saw no signs of them. The cities were well built
and full of inhabitants, the markets filled with plenty, the people
well favoured and well clothed, the fields well tilled, the cattle fat
and strong, the fences, houses, and windows all in repair, and no Old
Tenor anywhere in the country; which would almost make one suspect that
the Deity is not so angry at that offence as a New England Justice.
I left our friend Mr. Jackson[61] well, and I had the great pleasure of
finding my little family well when I came home, and my friends as
cordial and more numerous than ever. May every prosperity attend you and
yours. I am, dear friend, yours affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON
Philad^a, March 25, 1763.
MY DEAR POLLEY,
Your pleasing Favour of Nov. 11 is now before me. It found me as you
suppos'd it would, happy with my American Friends and Family about me;
and it made me more happy in showing me that I am not yet forgotten by
the dear Friends I left in England. And indeed, why should I fear they
will ever forget me, when I feel so strongly that I shall ever remember
them!
I sympathise with you sincerely in your Grief at the Separation from
your old Friend, Miss Pitt. The Reflection that she is going to be more
happy, when she leaves you, might comfort you, if the Case was likely to
be so circumstanc'd; but when the Country and Company she has been
educated in, and those she is removing to, are compared, one cannot
possibly expect it. I sympathize no less with you in your Joys. But it
is not merely on your Account, that I rejoice at the Recovery of your
dear Dolly's Health. I love that dear good Girl myself, and I love her
other Friends. I am, therefore, made happy by what must contribute so
much to the Happiness of them all. Remember me to her, and to every one
of that worthy and amiable Family, most affectionately.
Remember me in the same manner to your and my good Doctor and Mrs.
Hawkesworth.[62] You have lately, you tell me, had the Pleasure of
spending three Days with them at Mr. Stanley's. It was a sweet Society!
I too, once partook of that same Pleasure, and can therefore feel what
you must have felt. Remember me also to Mr. and Mrs. Stanley,[63] and to
Miss Arlond.
Of all the enviable Things England has, I envy it most its People. Why
should that petty Island, which compar'd to America, is but like a
stepping-Stone in a Brook, scarce enough of it above Water to keep one's
Shoes dry; why, I say, should that little Island enjoy in almost every
Neighbourhood, more sensible, virtuous, and elegant Minds, than we can
collect in ranging 100 Leagues of our vast forests? But 'tis said the
Arts delight to travel Westward. You have effectually defended us in
this glorious War, and in time you will improve us. After the first
Cares for the Necessaries of Life are over, we shall come to think of
the Embellishments. Already some of our young Geniuses begin to lisp
Attempts at Painting, Poetry, and Musick. We have a young Painter now
studying at Rome.[64] Some specimens of our Poetry I send you, which if
Dr. Hawkesworth's fine Taste cannot approve, his good Heart will at
least excuse. The Manuscript Piece is by a young Friend of mine, and was
occasion'd by the Loss of one of his Friends, who lately made a Voyage
to Antigua to settle some Affairs, previous to an intended Marriage with
an amiable young Lady here, but unfortunately died there. I send it to
you, because the Author is a great Admirer of Mr. Stanley's musical
Compositions, and has adapted this Piece to an Air in the 6th _Concerto_
of that Gentleman, the sweetly solemn Movement of which he is quite in
Raptures with. He has attempted to compose a _Recitativo_ for it, but
not being able to satisfy himself in the Bass, wishes I could get it
supply'd. If Mr. Stanley would condescend to do that for him, thro' your
Intercession, he would esteem it as one of the highest Honours, and it
would make him excessively happy. You will say that a _Recitativo_ can
be but a poor Specimen of our Music. 'Tis the best and all I have at
present, but you may see better hereafter.
I hope Mr. Ralph's[65] Affairs are mended since you wrote. I know he had
some Expectations, when I came away, from a Hand that would help him.
He has Merit, and one would think ought not to be so unfortunate.
I do not wonder at the behaviour you mention of Dr. Smith towards me,
for I have long since known him thoroughly. I made that Man my Enemy by
doing him too much Kindness. 'Tis the honestest Way of acquiring an
Enemy. And, since 'tis convenient to have at least one Enemy, who by his
Readiness to revile one on all Occasions, may make one careful of one's
Conduct, I shall keep him an Enemy for that purpose; and shall observe
your good Mother's Advice, never again to receive him as a Friend. She
once admir'd the benevolent Spirit breath'd in his Sermons. She will now
see the Justness of the Lines your Laureat Whitehead addresses to his
Poets, and which I now address to her.
"Full many a peevish, envious, slanderous Elf
Is, in his Works, Benevolence itself.
For all Mankind, unknown, his Bosom heaves;
He only injures those, with whom he lives.
Read then the Man;--does _Truth_ his Actions guide,
Exempt from _Petulance_, exempt from _Pride_?
To social Duties does his Heart attend,
As Son, as Father, Husband, Brother, _Friend_?
_Do those, who know him, love him?_ If they do,
You've _my_ Permission: you may love him too."
Nothing can please me more than to see your philosophical Improvements
when you have Leisure to communicate them to me. I still owe you a long
Letter on that Subject, which I shall pay. I am vex'd with Mr. James,
that he has been so dilatory in Mr. Maddison's _Armonica_. I was unlucky
in both the Workmen, that I permitted to undertake making those
Instruments. The first was fanciful, and never could work to the
purpose, because he was ever conceiving some new Improvement, that
answer'd no End. The other I doubt is absolutely idle. I have
recommended a Number to him from hence, but must stop my hand.
Adieu, my dear Polly, and believe me as ever, with the sincerest Esteem
and Regard, your truly affectionate Friend and humble Servant,
B. FRANKLIN.
P.S. My love to Mrs. Tickell and Mrs. Rooke, and to Pitty, when you
write to her. Mrs. Franklin and Sally desire to be affectionately
remember'd to you. I find the printed Poetry I intended to enclose will
be too bulky to send per the Packet. I shall send it by a Ship, that
goes shortly from hence.
TO JOHN FOTHERGILL, M.D.[66]
March 14, 1764.
DEAR DOCTOR,--
I received your favour of the 10th of December. It was a great deal for
one to write whose time was so little his own. By the way, when do you
intend to live?--_i.e._, to enjoy life. When will you retire to your
villa, give yourself repose, delight in viewing the operations of nature
in the vegetable creation, assist her in her works, get your ingenious
friends at times about you, make them happy with your conversation, and
enjoy theirs: or, if alone, amuse yourself with your books and elegant
collections?
To be hurried about perpetually from one sick chamber to another is not
living. Do you please yourself with the fancy that you are doing good?
You are mistaken. Half the lives you save are not worth saving, as being
useless, and almost all the other half ought not to be saved, as being
mischievous. Does your conscience never hint to you the impiety of being
in constant warfare against the plans of Providence? Disease was
intended as the punishment of intemperence, sloth, and other vices, and
the example of that punishment was intended to promote and strengthen
the opposite virtues. But here you step in officiously with your Art,
disappoint those wise intentions of nature, and make men safe in their
excesses, whereby you seem to me to be of just the same service to
society as some favourite first minister who out of the great
benevolence of his heart should procure pardons of all criminals that
applied to him; only think of the consequences.
You tell me the Quakers are charged on your side of the water with
being, by their aggressions, the cause of the war. Would you believe it
that they are charged here, not with offending the Indians and thereby
provoking the war, but with gaining their friendship by presents,
supplying them privately with arms and ammunition, and engaging them to
fall upon and murder the poor white people on the frontiers? Would you
think it possible that thousands even here should be made to believe
this, and many hundreds of them be raised in arms, not only to kill some
converted Indians, supposed to be under the Quakers' protection, but to
punish the Quakers who were supposed to give that protection? Would you
think these people audacious enough to avow such designs in a public
declaration sent to the Governor? Would you imagine that innocent
Quakers, men of fortune and character, should think it necessary to fly
for safety out of Philadelphia into the Jersies, fearing the violence of
such armed mobs, and confiding little in the power or inclination of the
government to protect them? And would you imagine that strong suspicions
now prevail that those mobs, after committing so barbarous murders
hitherto unpunished, are privately tampered with to be made instruments
of government to awe the Assembly into proprietary measures? And yet all
this has happened within a few weeks past.
More wonders. You know that I don't love the proprietary and that he
does not love me. Our totally different tempers forbid it. You might
therefore expect that the late new appointments of one of his family
would find me ready for opposition. And yet when his nephew arrived, our
Governor, I considered government as government, and paid him all
respect, gave him on all occasions my best advice, promoted in the
Assembly a ready compliance with every thing he proposed or recommended,
and when those daring rioters, encouraged by general approbation of the
populace, treated his proclamation with contempt, I drew my pen in the
cause; wrote a pamphlet (that I have sent you) to render the rioters
unpopular; promoted an association to support the authority of the
Government and defend the Governor by taking arms, signed it first
myself and was followed by several hundreds, who took arms accordingly.
The Governor offered me the command of them, but I chose to carry a
musket and strengthen his authority by setting an example of obedience
to his order. And would you think it, this proprietary Governor did me
the honour, in an alarm, to run to my house at midnight, with his
counsellors at his heels, for advice, and made it his head-quarters for
some time. And within four and twenty hours, your old friend was a
common soldier, a counsellor, a kind of dictator, an ambassador to the
country mob, and on his returning home, nobody again. All this has
happened in a few weeks.
More wonders! The Assembly received a Governor of the Proprietary family
with open arms, addressed him with sincere expressions of kindness and
respect, opened their purses to them, and presented him with six hundred
pounds; made a Riot Act and prepared a Militia Bill immediately, at his
instance, granted supplies, and did everything that he requested, and
promised themselves great happiness under his administration. But
suddenly his dropping all inquiries after the murderers, and his
answering the disputes of the rioters privately and refusing the
presence of the Assembly who were equally concerned in the matters
contained in their remonstrance, brings him under suspicion; his
insulting the Assembly without the least provocation by charging them
with disloyalty and with making an infringement on the King's
prerogatives, only because they had presumed to name in a bill offered
for his assent a trifling officer (somewhat like one of your
toll-gatherers at a turnpike) without consulting him, and his refusing
several of their bills or proposing amendments needless disgusting.
These things bring him and his government into sudden contempt. All
regard for him in the Assembly is lost. All hopes of happiness under a
Proprietary Government are at an end. It has now scarce authority enough
to keep the common peace, and was another to come, I question, though a
dozen men were sufficient, whether one could find so many in
Philadelphia willing to rescue him or his Attorney General, I won't say
from hanging, but from any common insult. All this too happened in a
few weeks.
In fine, everything seems in this country, once the land of peace and
order, to be running fast into anarchy and confusion. But we hope there
is virtue enough in your great nation to support a good Prince in the
execution of a good government and the exercise of his just prerogatives
against all the attempts of unreasonable faction. I have been already
too long. Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever, yours
affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO SARAH FRANKLIN
Reedy Island, 7 at night, November 8, 1764.
MY DEAR SALLY,
We got down here at sunset, having taken in more live stock at
Newcastle, with some other things we wanted. Our good friends, Mr.
Galloway, Mr. Wharton, and Mr. James, came with me in the ship from
Chester to Newcastle and went ashore there. It was kind to favour me
with their good company as far as they could. The affectionate leave
taken of me by so many friends at Chester was very endearing. God bless
them and all Pennsylvania.
My dear child, the natural prudence and goodness of heart God has blest
you with make it less necessary for me to be particular in giving you
advice. I shall therefore only say, that the more attentively dutiful
and tender you are towards your good mamma, the more you will recommend
yourself to me. But why should I mention _me_, when you have so much
higher a promise in the commandments, that such conduct will recommend
you to the favour of God. You know I have many enemies, all indeed on
the public account, (for I cannot recollect that I have in a private
capacity given just cause of offence to any one whatever,) yet they are
enemies, and very bitter ones; and you must expect their enmity will
extend in some degree to you, so that your slightest indiscretions will
be magnified into crimes, in order the more sensibly to wound and
afflict me. It is therefore the more necessary for you to be extremely
circumspect in all your behaviour, that no advantage may be given to
their malevolence.
Go constantly to church, whoever preaches. The act of devotion in the
Common Prayer Book is your principal business there, and if properly
attended to, will do more towards amending the heart than sermons
generally can do. For they were composed by men of much greater piety
and wisdom, than our common composers of sermons can pretend to be; and
therefore I wish you would never miss the prayer days; yet I do not mean
you should despise sermons, even of the preachers you dislike, for the
discourse is often much better than the man, as sweet and clear waters
come through very dirty earth. I am the more particular on this head, as
you seemed to express a little before I came away some inclination to
leave our church, which I would not have you do.
For the rest, I would only recommend to you in my absence, to acquire
those useful accomplishments, arithmetic and bookkeeping. This you might
do with ease, if you would resolve not to see company on the hours you
set apart for those studies.
We expect to be at sea to-morrow, if this wind holds; after which I
shall have no opportunity of writing to you, till I arrive (if it please
God I do arrive) in England. I pray that his blessing may attend you,
which is worth more than a thousand of mine, though they are never
wanting. Give my love to your brother and sister,[67] as I cannot write
to them, and remember me affectionately to the young ladies your
friends, and to our good neighbours. I am, my dear child, your
affectionate father,
B. FRANKLIN.
_From_ A NARRATIVE OF THE LATE MASSACRES
IN LANCASTER COUNTY, OF A NUMBER OF INDIANS, FRIENDS OF THIS PROVINCE,
BY PERSONS UNKNOWN. WITH SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE SAME.[68]
[1764]
... On _Wednesday_, the 14th of _December_, 1763, Fifty-seven Men, from
some of our Frontier Townships, who had projected the Destruction of
this little Commonwealth, came, all well mounted, and armed with
Firelocks, Hangers and Hatchets, having travelled through the Country in
the Night, to _Conestogoe_ Manor. There they surrounded the small
Village of _Indian_ Huts, and just at Break of Day broke into them all
at once. Only three Men, two Women, and a young Boy, were found at home,
the rest being out among the neighbouring White People, some to sell the
Baskets, Brooms and Bowls they manufactured, and others on other
Occasions. These poor defenceless Creatures were immediately fired upon,
stabbed, and hatcheted to Death! The good _Shehaes_, among the rest, cut
to Pieces in his Bed. All of them were scalped and otherwise horribly
mangled. Then their Huts were set on Fire, and most of them burnt down.
When the Troop, pleased with their own Conduct and Bravery, but enraged
that any of the poor _Indians_ had escaped the Massacre, rode off, and
in small Parties, by different Roads, went home.
The universal Concern of the neighbouring White People on hearing of
this Event, and the Lamentations of the younger _Indians_, when they
returned and saw the Desolation, and the butchered half-burnt Bodies of
their murdered Parents and other Relations, cannot well be expressed.
* * * * *
Notwithstanding this Proclamation [by the Governor], those cruel men
again assembled themselves, and hearing that the remaining fourteen
_Indians_ were in the Workhouse at _Lancaster_, they suddenly appeared
in that Town, on the 27th of _December_. Fifty of them, armed as before,
dismounting, went directly to the Workhouse, and by Violence broke open
the Door, and entered with the utmost Fury in their Countenances. When
the poor Wretches saw they had _no Protection_ nigh, nor could possibly
escape, and being without the least Weapon for Defence, they divided
into their little Families, the Children clinging to the Parents; they
fell on their Knees, protested their Innocence, declared their Love to
the _English_, and that, in their whole Lives, they had never done them
Injury; and in this Posture they all received the Hatchet! Men, Women
and little Children were every one inhumanly murdered!--in cold Blood!
The barbarous Men who committed the atrocious Fact, in defiance of
Government, of all Laws human and divine, and to the eternal Disgrace of
their Country and Colour, then mounted their Horses, huzza'd in Triumph,
as if they had gained a Victory, and rode off--_unmolested_!