Benjamin Franklin

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 circ.u.mstanc'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 Ma.n.u.script 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 Ba.s.s, 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.

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, a.s.sist 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 friends.h.i.+p 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..h.i.therto unpunished, are privately tampered with to be made instruments of government to awe the a.s.sembly 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 a.s.sembly 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 a.s.sociation 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 amba.s.sador to the country mob, and on his returning home, n.o.body again. All this has happened in a few weeks.

More wonders! The a.s.sembly 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 a.s.sembly who were equally concerned in the matters contained in their remonstrance, brings him under suspicion; his insulting the a.s.sembly 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 a.s.sent 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 a.s.sembly 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 s.h.i.+p from Chester to Newcastle and went ash.o.r.e 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. G.o.d bless them and all Pennsylvania.

My dear child, the natural prudence and goodness of heart G.o.d 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 G.o.d. 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 circ.u.mspect 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 princ.i.p.al 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 G.o.d 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 Ma.s.sACRES

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 Towns.h.i.+ps, 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 Ma.s.sacre, rode off, and in small Parties, by different Roads, went home.