have their values estimated by the proportion of food consumed while we
are employed in procuring them.
3. A small people, with a large territory, may subsist on the
productions of nature, with no other labour than that of gathering the
vegetables and catching the animals.
4. A large people, with a small territory, finds these insufficient,
and, to subsist, must labour the earth, to make it produce greater
quantities of vegetable food, suitable for the nourishment of men, and
of the animals they intend to eat.
5. From this labour arises a _great increase_ of vegetable and animal
food, and of materials for clothing, as flax, wool, silk, &c. The
superfluity of these is wealth. With this wealth we pay for the labour
employed in building our houses, cities, &c., which are therefore only
subsistence thus metamorphosed.
6. _Manufactures_ are only _another shape_ into which so much provisions
and subsistence are turned, as were equal in value to the manufactures
produced. This appears from hence, that the manufacturer does not, in
fact, obtain from the employer, for his labour, _more_ than a mere
subsistence, including raiment, fuel, and shelter; all which derive
their value from the provisions consumed in procuring them.
7. The produce of the earth, thus converted into manufactures, may be
more easily carried to distant markets than before such conversion.
8. _Fair commerce_ is, where equal values are exchanged for equal, the
expense of transport included. Thus, if it costs A in England as much
labour and charge to raise a bushel of wheat, as it costs B in France to
produce four gallons of wine, then are four gallons of wine the fair
exchange for a bushel of wheat, A and B meeting at half distance with
their commodities to make the exchange. The advantage of this fair
commerce is, that each party increases the number of his enjoyments,
having, instead of wheat alone, or wine alone, the use of both wheat and
wine.
9. Where the labour and expense of producing both commodities are known
to both parties, bargains will generally be fair and equal. Where they
are known to one party only, bargains will often be unequal, knowledge
taking its advantage of ignorance.
10. Thus, he that carries one thousand bushels of wheat abroad to sell,
may not probably obtain so great a profit thereon, as if he had first
turned the wheat into manufactures, by subsisting therewith the workmen
while producing those manufactures; since there are many expediting and
facilitating methods of working, not generally known; and strangers to
the manufactures, though they know pretty well the expense of raising
wheat, are unacquainted with those short methods of working, and, thence
being apt to suppose more labour employed in the manufactures than there
really is, are more easily imposed on in their value, and induced to
allow more for them than they are honestly worth.
11. Thus the advantage of having manufactures in a country does not
consist, as is commonly supposed, in their highly advancing the value of
rough materials, of which they are formed; since, though six pennyworth
of flax may be worth twenty shillings, when worked into lace, yet the
very cause of its being worth twenty shillings is, that, besides the
flax, it has cost nineteen shillings and sixpence in subsistence to the
manufacturer. But the advantage of manufactures is, that under their
shape provisions may be more easily carried to a foreign market; and, by
their means, our traders may more easily cheat strangers. Few, where it
is not made, are judges of the value of lace. The importer may demand
forty, and perhaps get thirty, shillings for that which cost him but
twenty.
12. Finally, there seem to be but three ways for a nation to acquire
wealth. The first is by _war_, as the Romans did, in plundering their
conquered neighbours. This is _robbery_. The second by _commerce_, which
is generally _cheating_. The third by _agriculture_, the only _honest
way_, wherein man receives a real increase of the seed thrown into the
ground, in a kind of continual miracle, wrought by the hand of God in
his favour, as a reward for his innocent life and his virtuous industry.
TO MISS MARY STEVENSON
Saturday Evening, Sept^r 2, 1769.
Just come home from a Venison Feast, where I have drank more than a
Philosopher ought, I find my dear Polly's chearful, chatty Letter that
exhilerates me more than all the Wine.
Your good Mother says there is no Occasion for any Intercession of mine
in your behalf. She is sensible that she is more in fault than her
Daughter. She received an affectionate, tender Letter from you, and she
has not answered it, tho' she intended to do it; but her Head, not her
Heart, has been bad, and unfitted her for Writing. She owns, that she is
not so good a Subject as you are, and that she is more unwilling to pay
Tribute to Cesar, and has less Objection to Smuggling; but 'tis not, she
says, mere Selfishness or Avarice; 'tis rather an honest Resentment at
the Waste of those Taxes in Pensions, Salaries, Perquisites, Contracts,
and other Emoluments for the Benefit of People she does not love, and
who do not deserve such Advantages, because--I suppose--because they are
not of her Party.
Present my Respects to your good Landlord and his Family. I honour them
for their conscientious Aversion to illicit Trading. There are those in
the World, who would not wrong a Neighbour, but make no Scruple of
cheating the King. The Reverse, however, does not hold; for whoever
scruples cheating the King, will certainly not wrong his Neighbour.
You ought not to wish yourself an Enthusiast. They have, indeed, their
imaginary Satisfactions and Pleasures, but these are often ballanc'd by
imaginary Pains and Mortifications. You can continue to be a good Girl,
and thereby lay a solid Foundation for expected future Happiness,
without the Enthusiasm that may perhaps be necessary to some others. As
those Beings, who have a good sensible Instinct, have no need of Reason,
so those, who have Reason to regulate their Actions, have no Occasion
for Enthusiasm. However, there are certain Circumstances in Life,
sometimes, wherein 'tis perhaps best not to hearken to Reason. For
instance; possibly, if the Truth were known, I have Reason to be jealous
of this same insinuating, handsome young Physician;[77] but, as it
flatters more my Vanity, and therefore gives me more Pleasure, to
suppose you were in Spirits on acc^t of my safe Return, I shall turn a
deaf Ear to Reason in this Case, as I have done with Success in twenty
others. But I am sure you will always give me Reason enough to continue
ever your affectionate Friend,
B. FRANKLIN.
P.S. Our Love to Mrs. Tickell. We all long for your Return. Your Dolly
was well last Tuesday; the Girls were there on a Visit to her; I mean at
Bromley. Adieu. No time now to give you any acc^t of my French Journey.
TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
London, Sept. 19: 1772.
DEAR SIR,
In the Affair of so much Importance to you, wherein you ask my Advice, I
cannot for want of sufficient Premises, advise you _what_ to determine,
but if you please I will tell you _how_. When those difficult Cases
occur, they are difficult, chiefly because while we have them under
Consideration, all the Reasons _pro_ and _con_ are not present to the
Mind at the same time; but sometimes one Set present themselves, and at
other times another, the first being out of Sight. Hence the various
Purposes or Inclinations that alternately prevail, and the Uncertainty
that perplexes us.
To get over this, my Way is, to divide half a Sheet of Paper by a Line
into two Columns; writing over the one _Pro_, and over the other _Con_.
Then during three or four Days Consideration, I put down under the
different Heads short Hints of the different Motives, that at different
Times occur to me, _for_ or _against_ the Measure. When I have thus got
them all together in one View, I endeavour to estimate their respective
Weights; and where I find two, one on each side, that seem equal, I
strike them both out. If I find a Reason _pro_ equal to some two Reasons
_con_, I strike out the three. If I judge some two Reasons _con_, equal
to some three Reasons _pro_, I strike out the five; and thus proceeding
I find at length where the Ballance lies; and if after a Day or two of
farther Consideration, nothing new that is of Importance occurs on
either side, I come to a Determination accordingly. And, tho' the Weight
of Reasons cannot be taken with the Precision of Algebraic Quantities,
yet, when each is thus considered, separately and comparatively, and the
whole lies before me, I think I can judge better, and am less liable to
make a rash Step; and in fact I have found great Advantage from this
kind of Equation, in what may be called _Moral_ or _Prudential Algebra_.
Wishing sincerely that you may determine for the best, I am ever, my
dear Friend, yours most affectionately,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO MISS GEORGIANA SHIPLEY[78]
London, September 26, 1772.
DEAR MISS,
I lament with you most sincerely the unfortunate end of poor MUNGO. Few
squirrels were better accomplished; for he had had a good education, had
travelled far, and seen much of the world. As he had the honour of
being, for his virtues, your favourite, he should not go, like common
skuggs, without an elegy or an epitaph. Let us give him one in the
monumental style and measure, which, being neither prose nor verse, is
perhaps the properest for grief; since to use common language would look
as if we were not affected, and to make rhymes would seem trifling in
sorrow.
EPITAPH.
Alas! poor MUNGO!
Happy wert thou, hadst thou known
Thy own felicity.
Remote from the fierce bald eagle,
Tyrant of thy native woods,
Thou hadst nought to fear from his piercing talons,
Nor from the murdering gun
Of the thoughtless sportsman.
Safe in thy wired castle,
GRIMALKIN never could annoy thee.
Daily wert thou fed with the choicest viands,
By the fair hand of an indulgent mistress;
But, discontented,
Thou wouldst have more freedom.
Too soon, alas! didst thou obtain it;
And wandering,
Thou art fallen by the fangs of wanton, cruel RANGER!
Learn hence,
Ye who blindly seek more liberty,
Whether subjects, sons, squirrels or daughters,
That apparent restraint may be real protection;
Yielding peace and plenty
With security.
You see, my dear Miss, how much more decent and proper this broken style
is, than if we were to say, by way of epitaph,
Here SKUGG
Lies snug,
As a bug
In a rug.
and yet, perhaps, there are people in the world of so little feeling as
to think that this would be a good-enough epitaph for poor Mungo.
If you wish it, I shall procure another to succeed him; but perhaps you
will now choose some other amusement.
Remember me affectionately to all the good family, and believe me ever,
Your affectionate friend,
B. FRANKLIN.
TO PETER FRANKLIN
[No date.][79]
DEAR BROTHER,
I like your ballad, and think it well adapted for your purpose of
discountenancing expensive foppery, and encouraging industry and
frugality. If you can get it generally sung in your country, it may
probably have a good deal of the effect you hope and expect from it. But
as you aimed at making it general, I wonder you chose so uncommon a
measure in poetry, that none of the tunes in common use will suit it.
Had you fitted it to an old one, well known, it must have spread much
faster than I doubt it will do from the best new tune we can get
compos'd for it. I think too, that if you had given it to some country
girl in the heart of the _Massachusetts_, who has never heard any other
than psalm tunes, or _Chevy Chace_, the _Children in the Wood_, the
_Spanish Lady_, and such old simple ditties, but has naturally a good
ear, she might more probably have made a pleasing popular tune for you,
than any of our masters here, and more proper for your purpose, which
would best be answered, if every word could as it is sung be understood
by all that hear it, and if the emphasis you intend for particular words
could be given by the singer as well as by the reader; much of the force
and impression of the song depending on those circumstances. I will
however get it as well done for you as I can.
Do not imagine that I mean to depreciate the skill of our composers of
music here; they are admirable at pleasing _practised_ ears, and know
how to delight _one another_; but, in composing for songs, the reigning
taste seems to be quite out of nature, or rather the reverse of nature,
and yet like a torrent, hurries them all away with it; one or two
perhaps only excepted.
You, in the spirit of some ancient legislators, would influence the
manners of your country by the united powers of poetry and music. By
what I can learn of _their_ songs, the music was simple, conformed
itself to the usual pronunciation of words, as to measure, cadence or
emphasis, &c., never disguised and confounded the language by making a
long syllable short, or a short one long, when sung; their singing was
only a more pleasing, because a melodious manner of speaking; it was
capable of all the graces of prose oratory, while it added the pleasure
of harmony. A modern song, on the contrary, neglects all the proprieties
and beauties of common speech, and in their place introduces its
_defects_ and _absurdities_ as so many graces. I am afraid you will
hardly take my word for this, and therefore I must endeavour to support
it by proof. Here is the first song I lay my hand on. It happens to be a
composition of one of our greatest masters, the ever-famous _Handel_. It
is not one of his juvenile performances, before his taste could be
improved and formed: It appeared when his reputation was at the highest,
is greatly admired by all his admirers, and is really excellent in its
kind. It is called, "_The additional_ Favourite _Song in_ Judas
Maccabeus." Now I reckon among the defects and improprieties of common
speech, the following, viz.
1. _Wrong placing the accent or emphasis_, by laying it on words of no
importance, or on wrong syllables.
2. _Drawling_; or extending the sound of words or syllables beyond their
natural length.
3. _Stuttering_; or making many syllables of one.
4. _Unintelligibleness_; the result of the three foregoing united.
5. _Tautology_; and
6. _Screaming_, without cause.
For the _wrong placing of the accent, or emphasis_, see it on the word
_their_ instead of being on the word _vain_.
[Illustration: with _their_ . . vain my-ste-rious art.]
And on the word _from_, and the wrong syllable _like_.
[Illustration: God-_like_ wis-dom _from_ ... a-bove.]
For the _drawling_, see the last syllable of the word _wounded_. And in
the syllable _wis_, and the word _from_, and syllable _bove_.
[Illustration: Nor can heal the wound-_ed_ heart.
[Illustration: God-like _wis_-dom _from_ a-_bove_.]
For the _stuttering_, see the words _ne'er relieve_, in
[Illustration: Ma-gic charms can _ne'er_ . . re-_lieve_ you.]
Here are four syllables made of one, and eight of three; but this is
moderate. I have seen in another song, that I cannot now find, seventeen
syllables made of three, and sixteen of one. The latter I remember was
the word _charms_; viz. _cha, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a,
arms_. Stammering with a witness!
For the _unintelligibleness_; give this whole song to any taught singer,
and let her sing it to any company that have never heard it; you shall
find they will not understand three words in ten. It is therefore that
at the oratorios and operas one sees with books in their hands all those
who desire to understand what they hear sung by even our best
performers.
For the _Tautology_; you have, _with their vain mysterious art_, twice
repeated; _magic charms can ne'er relieve you_, three times. _Nor can
heal the wounded heart_, three times. _Godlike wisdom from above_,
twice; and, _this alone can ne'er deceive you_, two or three times. But
this is reasonable when compared with _the Monster Polypheme, the
Monster Polypheme_, a hundred times over and over, in his admired _Acis
and Galatea_.
As to the _screaming_, perhaps I cannot find a fair instance in this
song; but whoever has frequented our operas will remember many. And yet
here methinks the words _no_ and _e'er_, when sung to these notes, have
a little of the air of _screaming_, and would actually be screamed by
some singers.
[Illustration: _No_ ma-gic charms can _e'er_ re-lieve you.]
I send you inclosed the song with its music at length. Read the words
without the repetitions. Observe how few they are, and what a shower of
notes attend them: You will then perhaps be inclined to think with me,
that though the words might be the principal part of an ancient song,
they are of small importance in a modern one; they are in short only a
_pretence for singing_.
I am, as ever,
Your affectionate brother,
B. FRANKLIN.
P.S. I might have mentioned _inarticulation_ among the defects in common
speech that are assumed as beauties in modern singing. But as that seems
more the fault of the singer than of the composer, I omitted it in what
related merely to the composition. The fine singer, in the present mode,
stifles all the hard consonants, and polishes away all the rougher parts
of words that serve to distinguish them one from another; so that you
hear nothing but an admirable pipe, and understand no more of the song,
than you would from its tune played on any other instrument. If ever it
was the ambition of musicians to make instruments that should imitate
the human voice, that ambition seems now reversed, the voice aiming to
be like an instrument. Thus wigs were first made to imitate a good
natural head of hair; but when they became fashionable, though in
unnatural forms, we have seen natural hair dressed to look like wigs.
ON THE PRICE OF CORN, AND MANAGEMENT OF THE POOR[80]
TO THE PUBLIC
I am one of that class of people, that feeds you all, and at present is
abused by you all; in short I am a _farmer_.
By your newspapers we are told, that God had sent a very short harvest
to some other countries of Europe. I thought this might be in favour of
Old England; and that now we should get a good price for our grain,
which would bring millions among us, and make us flow in money; that to
be sure is scarce enough.
But the wisdom of government forbade the exportation.
"Well," says I, "then we must be content with the market price at home."
"No;" say my lords the mob, "you sha'nt have that. Bring your corn to
market if you dare; we'll sell it for you for less money, or take it for
nothing."
Being thus attacked by both ends _of the constitution_, the head and
tail _of government_, what am I to do?
Must I keep my corn in the barn, to feed and increase the breed of rats?
Be it so; they cannot be less thankful than those I have been used to
feed.
Are we farmers the only people to be grudged the profits of our honest
labour? And why? One of the late scribblers against us gives a bill of
fare of the provisions at my daughter's wedding, and proclaims to all
the world, that we had the insolence to eat beef and pudding! Has he not
read the precept in the good Book, _Thou shalt not muzzle the mouth of
the ox that treadeth out the corn_; or does he think us less worthy of
good living than our oxen?
"O, but the manufacturers! the manufacturers! they are to be favoured,
and they must have bread at a cheap rate!"
Hark ye, Mr. Oaf, the farmers live spendidly, you say. And pray, would
you have them hoard the money they get? Their fine clothes and
furniture, do they make them themselves, or for one another, and so keep
the money among them? Or do they employ these your darling
manufacturers, and so scatter it again all over the nation?
The wool would produce me a better price, if it were suffered to go to
foreign markets; but that, Messieurs the Public, your laws will not
permit. It must be kept all at home, that our _dear_ manufacturers may
have it the cheaper. And then, having yourselves thus lessened our
encouragement for raising sheep, you curse us for the scarcity of
mutton!
I have heard my grandfather say, that the farmers submitted to the
prohibition on the exportation of wool, being made to expect and
believe, that, when the manufacturer bought his wool cheaper, they
should also have their cloth cheaper. But the deuce a bit. It has been
growing dearer and dearer from that day to this. How so? Why, truly, the
cloth is exported; and that keeps up the price.
Now, if it be a good principle, that the exportation of a commodity is
to be restrained, that so our people at home may have it the cheaper,
stick to that principle, and go thorough-stitch with it. Prohibit the
exportation of your cloth, your leather, and shoes, your iron ware, and
your manufactures of all sorts, to make them all cheaper at home. And
cheap enough they will be, I will warrant you; till people leave off
making them.
Some folks seem to think they ought never to be easy till England
becomes another Lubberland, where it is fancied that streets are paved
with penny-rolls, the houses tiled with pancakes, and chickens, ready
roasted, cry, "Come eat me."
I say, when you are sure you have got a good principle, stick to it, and
carry it through. I hear it is said, that though it was _necessary and
right_ for the ministry to advise a prohibition of the exportation of
corn, yet it was _contrary to law_; and also, that though it was
_contrary to law_ for the mob to obstruct wagons, yet it was _necessary
and right_. Just the same thing to a tittle. Now they tell me, an act of
indemnity ought to pass in favour of the ministry, to secure them from
the consequences of having acted illegally. If so, pass another in
favour of the mob. Others say, some of the mob ought to be hanged, by
way of example. If so,--but I say no more than I have said before, _when
you are sure that you have a good principle, go through with it_.
You say, poor labourers cannot afford to buy bread at a high price,
unless they had higher wages. Possibly. But how shall we farmers be able
to afford our labourers higher wages, if you will not allow us to get,
when we might have it, a higher price for our corn?
By all that I can learn, we should at least have had a guinea a quarter
more, if the exportation had been allowed. And this money England would
have got from foreigners.
But, it seems, we farmers must take so much less, that the poor may have
it so much cheaper.
This operates, then, as a tax for the maintenance of the poor. A very
good thing you will say. But I ask, Why a partial tax? why laid on us
farmers only? If it be a good thing, pray, Messieurs the Public, take
your share of it, by indemnifying us a little out of your public
treasury. In doing a good thing, there is both honour and pleasure; you
are welcome to your share of both.
For my own part, I am not so well satisfied of the goodness of this
thing. I am for doing good to the poor, but I differ in opinion about
the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is, not
making them easy _in_ poverty, but leading or driving them _out_ of it.
In my youth, I travelled much, and I observed in different countries,
that the more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they
provided for themselves, and of course became poorer. And, on the
contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves,
and became richer. There is no country in the world where so many
provisions are established for them; so many hospitals to receive them
when they are sick or lame, founded and maintained by voluntary
charities; so many almshouses for the aged of both sexes, together with
a solemn general law made by the rich to subject their estates to a
heavy tax for the support of the poor. Under all these obligations, are
our poor modest, humble, and thankful? And do they use their best
endeavours to maintain themselves, and lighten our shoulders of this
burthen? On the contrary, I affirm, that there is no country in the
world in which the poor are more idle, dissolute, drunken, and insolent.
The day you passed that act, you took away from before their eyes the
greatest of all inducements to industry, frugality, and sobriety, by
giving them a dependence on somewhat else than a careful accumulation
during youth and health, for support in age or sickness.