"London, November, 1768."Dear Sir,"With respect to the present dispute between Great Britain and the colonies, there is nothing I wish for more than to see it amicably settled. ButProvidencebrings about its own ends by its own means; and if it intends the downfall of a nation, that nation will be so blinded by its pride and other passions as not to see its danger, or how its fall may be prevented."The friends of the ministry say that this tax is but atrifle; granted. But who does not see what will be the consequence of submitting to it? Is it not the more dangerous for being a trifle? Is it not in this way that the devil himself most effectually works our ruin? If he can but prevail on a poor thoughtless youth to shake hands with innocence, and tosteal, he is abundantly satisfied. To get the boy'shand in, is all he wants. And he would as leave the simpleton should begin with stealing a halter as a horse. For he well knows that if he but begins with the one he is sure to end with the other. Just so the minister, angling for American liberty, artfully covers his hook with this delicate bait. But the truth is, I have talked and written so much and so long on the subject of this unhappy quarrel, that my acquaintance are weary of hearing, and the public of reading, any more of it; which begins to make me weary of talking and writing; especially as I do not find that I have gained any point in either country, except that of rendering myself suspected, by my impartiality, in England of being too much anAmerican, and in America of being too much anEnglishman. However, as in reply to your polite question, "what is to bedoneto settle this alarming dispute?" I have often told you what I think the ministeroughtto do: I now go a step farther, and tell you what I fear he will do."I apprehend he will, ere long, attempt to enforce this obnoxious tax, whatever may be the consequences.—I apprehend that in the mean time, the colonies will continue to be treated with contempt, and the redress of their grievances be neglected—that, this will inflame matters still more in that country—that, further rash measures there, may create more resentments here—that, their assemblies will be attempted to be dissolved—that, more troops will be sent to oppress them—that, to justify these measures of government, your newspapers will revile them asmiscreants,rogues,dastards, andrebels—that, this will alienate the minds of the people here from them, and theirs from you—that, possibly too, some of their warm patriots may be distracted enough to do somemadact which will cause them to be sent for hither—and that government may be indiscreet enough to hang them for it—that mutual provocations will thus go on to complete the separation, and instead of that cordial affection which so long existed, and which is so necessary to the glory and happiness of both countries, an implacable malice, dishonourable and destructive to both, may take place. I hope, however, that this may all provefalse prophecy, and that you and I may live to see as sincere a friendship established between our countries, as has so many years subsisted between W. Strahan, Esq. and his truly affectionate old friend,"B. FRANKLIN."
"London, November, 1768.
"Dear Sir,
"With respect to the present dispute between Great Britain and the colonies, there is nothing I wish for more than to see it amicably settled. ButProvidencebrings about its own ends by its own means; and if it intends the downfall of a nation, that nation will be so blinded by its pride and other passions as not to see its danger, or how its fall may be prevented.
"The friends of the ministry say that this tax is but atrifle; granted. But who does not see what will be the consequence of submitting to it? Is it not the more dangerous for being a trifle? Is it not in this way that the devil himself most effectually works our ruin? If he can but prevail on a poor thoughtless youth to shake hands with innocence, and tosteal, he is abundantly satisfied. To get the boy'shand in, is all he wants. And he would as leave the simpleton should begin with stealing a halter as a horse. For he well knows that if he but begins with the one he is sure to end with the other. Just so the minister, angling for American liberty, artfully covers his hook with this delicate bait. But the truth is, I have talked and written so much and so long on the subject of this unhappy quarrel, that my acquaintance are weary of hearing, and the public of reading, any more of it; which begins to make me weary of talking and writing; especially as I do not find that I have gained any point in either country, except that of rendering myself suspected, by my impartiality, in England of being too much anAmerican, and in America of being too much anEnglishman. However, as in reply to your polite question, "what is to bedoneto settle this alarming dispute?" I have often told you what I think the ministeroughtto do: I now go a step farther, and tell you what I fear he will do.
"I apprehend he will, ere long, attempt to enforce this obnoxious tax, whatever may be the consequences.—I apprehend that in the mean time, the colonies will continue to be treated with contempt, and the redress of their grievances be neglected—that, this will inflame matters still more in that country—that, further rash measures there, may create more resentments here—that, their assemblies will be attempted to be dissolved—that, more troops will be sent to oppress them—that, to justify these measures of government, your newspapers will revile them asmiscreants,rogues,dastards, andrebels—that, this will alienate the minds of the people here from them, and theirs from you—that, possibly too, some of their warm patriots may be distracted enough to do somemadact which will cause them to be sent for hither—and that government may be indiscreet enough to hang them for it—that mutual provocations will thus go on to complete the separation, and instead of that cordial affection which so long existed, and which is so necessary to the glory and happiness of both countries, an implacable malice, dishonourable and destructive to both, may take place. I hope, however, that this may all provefalse prophecy, and that you and I may live to see as sincere a friendship established between our countries, as has so many years subsisted between W. Strahan, Esq. and his truly affectionate old friend,
"B. FRANKLIN."
But notwithstanding his prayer to the contrary, every body recollects how, exactly as Dr. Franklin had predicted, the minister continued to blunder and blunder on with his face constantly towards war—how nothing was trumpeted by the ministerial party, like the ingratitude and baseness of the Americans—howcertainnewspapers perpetually vilified them asmiscreants,rascalsandrebels—how the public mind was so set against them that even theshoe-blacks, as Mr. Wilkes said, talked of the colonies astheir plantations, and of the people there as if they had been theiroverseersandnegroes—how the minister determined at last, to enforce thetea-tax—how, on hearing the news of this, as of the stamp act, the yankees muffled their drums, and played thedead march—how they took the sacrament never to submit to it—how the minister, to test their valour, sent three ships laden with this three-penny tea—how the yankees, dressed like Mohawks, boarded their ships and destroyed their cargoes—how the minister, waxing more in wrath, sent more soldiers to quell the rebels—how the rebels insulted the soldiers—how the soldiers fired on the rebels—how the port of Boston was shut by royal proclamation—how, in spite of the royal proclamation, the colonies would trade with her and send monies to her relief—how thelordsandcommonspetitioned the king that, any rebel opposing the officers of his sacred majesty, should be instantly hung up without judge or jury—how the kingthankedhis noble lords and commons, and was graciously pleased to decree that all rebels thus offending should be thus hung up without judge or jury—how that, notwithstanding this gracious decree, when his majesty's troops attempted to destroy the rebel stores at Concord, the rebels attacked and killed them, without any regard to his majesty's decree.
This unpardonable sin against the "Lord's anointed," which happened on the 19th of April 1775, served as the double bolting and barring of the door against all hope of peace. Throughout America, it struck but one deep and awful sentiment, "the sword is drawn, and we must now throw the scabbard away." In May, the news got to England, where it excited emotions that beggar all description. They somewhat, however, resembled the effects of the trumpet of the great angel spoken of in theRevelations, that sounded "wo! wo! wo! to the inhabitants" of America, and proclaimed the pouring forth offireand sword. But, reserving this tragedy for the next chapter, we will conclude the present with the following anecdote. It will show at least, that doctor Franklin left no stone unturned to carry his point; and that where logic failed he had recourse to wit.
THE CAT AND EAGLE.
A FABLE, BY DOCTOR FRANKLIN.
Lord Spencer was a great admirer of Dr. Franklin, and never missed sending him a card when he intended a quorum of learned ones at his table. The last time that our philosopher enjoyed this honour, was in 1775, just before he was driven from England by lord North. The conversation taking a turn on fables, lord Spencer observed, that it had certainly been a very lucky thing, especially for theyoung, that this mode of instruction had ever been hit on, as there was a something in it wonderfully calculated to touch a favourite string with them,i.e.novelty and surprise. They would listen, he said, to a fox, when they would not to a father, and they would be more apt to remember any thing good told them by an owl or a crow, than by an uncle or an aunt. But I am afraid, continued his lordship, that the age of fables is past. Æsop and Phædrus among the ancients, and Fontaine and Gay among the moderns, have given us so many fine speeches from the birds and beasts, that I suspect their budgets are pretty nearly exhausted.
The company concluded with his lordship, except Franklin, who was silent.
"Well, doctor," said lord Spencer, "what is your opinion on this subject?"
"Why, my lord," replied Franklin, "I cannot say that I have the honour to think with you in this affair. The birds and beasts have indeed said a great many wise things; but it is likely they will say a great many more yet before they are done. Nature, I am thinking, is not quite so easily exhausted as your lordship seems to imagine."
Lord Spencer, evidently confused, but still with that countenance of pleasure which characterizes great souls, when they meet superior genius, exclaimed—"Well, doctor, suppose you give us a fable? I know you are good at an impromptu." The company all seconded the motion. Franklin thanked them for the compliment, but begged to be excused. They would hear no excuses. They knew, they said, he couldgo it, and insisted he should gratify them. Finding all resistance ineffectual, he drew his pencil, and after scribbling a few minutes, reached it to Spencer, saying—"Well, my lord, since, you will have it so, here's a something fresh from the brain, but I'm afraid you'll not find Æsop in it."
"Read it, doctor, read it!" was the cry of the noble lord and his friends. In a mood, spriteful and pleasant, Franklin thus began—"Once upon a time—hem!—as an Eagle in the full pride of his pinions, soared over a humble farm-yard, darting his fiery eyes around in search of a pig, a lamb, or some such pretty tit-bit, what should he behold but a plump young rabbit, as he thought, squatted among the weeds. Down at once upon him, he pounced like thunder, and bearing him aloft in his talons, thus chuckled to himself with joy—Zounds, what a lucky dog I am! such a nice rabbit here, this morning, for my breakfast!
"His joy was but momentary; for the supposed rabbit happened to be a stout cat, who, spitting and squalling with rage, instantly stuck his teeth and nails, like any fury, into the eagle's thighs, making the blood and feathers fly at a dreadful rate.
"Hold! hold!for mercy's sake, hold!cried the eagle, his wings shivering in the air with very torment.
"Villain! retorted the cat, with a tiger-like growl, dare you talk ofmercyafter treating me thus, who never injured you?"
O, God bless you, Mr.Cat, is that you? rejoined the eagle, mighty complaisant; 'pon honour, I did not intend, sir. I thought it was only a rabbit I had got hold of—and you know we are all fond of rabbits. Do you suppose, my dear sir, that if I had but dreamt it was you, I would ever have touched the hair of your head? No, indeed: I am not such a fool as all that comes to. And now, my dear Mr.Cat, come let's be good friends again, and I'll let you go with all my heart.
"Yes, you'll let me go, scoundrel, will you—here from the clouds—to break every bone in my skin!—No, villain, carry me back, and put me down exactly where you found me, or I'll tear the throat out of you in a moment.
"Without a word of reply, the eagle stooped at once from his giddy height, and sailing humbly down, with great complaisance restored the cat to his simple farm-yard, there to sleep, or hunt his rats and mice at pleasure."
A solemn silence ensued. At length, with a deep prophetic sigh, lord Spencer thus replied: "Ah! Dr. Franklin I see the drift of your fable; and my fears have already made the application. God grant, that Britain may not prove the eagle, and America the cat." This fable paraphrased in theWhigpapers of that day, concludes in this way:
"Thus Britain thought in seventy-six,Her talons in a hare to fix;But in the scuffle it was found,The bird received a dangerous wound,Which, though pretending oft to hide,Still rankles in his Royal side."
"Thus Britain thought in seventy-six,Her talons in a hare to fix;But in the scuffle it was found,The bird received a dangerous wound,Which, though pretending oft to hide,Still rankles in his Royal side."
"Thus Britain thought in seventy-six,
Her talons in a hare to fix;
But in the scuffle it was found,
The bird received a dangerous wound,
Which, though pretending oft to hide,
Still rankles in his Royal side."
CHAPTER XLI.
Doctor Franklin now began to find his situation in London extremely unpleasant. For twelve years, like heaven's own minister of peace, he had pressed the olive-branch on the British ministry; and yet after all, their war-hawks could hardly tolerate the sight of him. They even went so far as to call him "the hoary headed villain, who first stirred up the Americans to rebellion." As soon as he could obtain his passports he left England.
His old friend, Strahan, advised him to continue in that country, for that America would soon be filled with tumult and bloodshed. He replied, "No, sir, where liberty is, there is my country."
Unbounded was the joy of the Americans on the return of so great a patriot and statesman. The day following he was elected by the legislature of Pennsylvania, a member of Congress. The following letters, in extract, to his constant friend, and the friend of science and liberty, the celebrated doctor Priestley, will show how full his hands were
"Philadelphia, July 7, 1775."Dear Friend,"Britain has begun to burn our sea port towns;secure, I suppose,that we shall never be able to return the outrage in kind. She may doubtless destroy them all. But is this the way to recover our friendship and trade? She must certainly be distracted; for no tradesman out of Bedlam ever thought of increasing the number of his customers by knocking them on the head; or of enabling them to pay their debts, by burning their houses."My time was never more fully employed. I breakfast before six. At six I hasten to thecommitteeofsafetyfor putting the province in a state of defence. At nine I go to Congress, which sits till after four. It will scarcely be credited in Britain, that men can be as diligent with us, from zeal for the public good, as with you, forthousandsper annum. Such is the difference between uncorrupted new states, and corrupted old ones."Great frugality and great industry are now become fashionable here: gentlemen, who used to entertain with two or three courses, pride themselves now in treating with simple beef and pudding. By these means, and the stoppage of our consumptive trade with Britain, we shall be better able to pay our voluntary taxes for the support of our troops. Our savings in the article of trade, amount to near five millions of sterling per annum.—Yours, most affectionately,"B. FRANKLIN."
"Philadelphia, July 7, 1775.
"Dear Friend,
"Britain has begun to burn our sea port towns;secure, I suppose,that we shall never be able to return the outrage in kind. She may doubtless destroy them all. But is this the way to recover our friendship and trade? She must certainly be distracted; for no tradesman out of Bedlam ever thought of increasing the number of his customers by knocking them on the head; or of enabling them to pay their debts, by burning their houses.
"My time was never more fully employed. I breakfast before six. At six I hasten to thecommitteeofsafetyfor putting the province in a state of defence. At nine I go to Congress, which sits till after four. It will scarcely be credited in Britain, that men can be as diligent with us, from zeal for the public good, as with you, forthousandsper annum. Such is the difference between uncorrupted new states, and corrupted old ones.
"Great frugality and great industry are now become fashionable here: gentlemen, who used to entertain with two or three courses, pride themselves now in treating with simple beef and pudding. By these means, and the stoppage of our consumptive trade with Britain, we shall be better able to pay our voluntary taxes for the support of our troops. Our savings in the article of trade, amount to near five millions of sterling per annum.—Yours, most affectionately,
"B. FRANKLIN."
In another letter to the same, dated October 3d, he says:
"Tell our dear good friend, doctor Price, who sometimes has his doubts and despondencies about our firmness, that America is determined and unanimous: a very few tories and placemen excepted, who will probably soon export themselves. Britain, at the expense of three millions has killed in this campaign,one hundred and fifty yankees!which is 20,000 pounds sterling a head; and at Bunker's hill she gained half a mile of ground! During the same time she lost, at one place, near one thousand men, and we have had a good sixty thousand children born in America. From these data, with the help of his mathematical head, lord North will easily calculate the time and expense necessary to kill us all, and conquer our whole territory.—"I am yours, B. FRANKLIN."
"Tell our dear good friend, doctor Price, who sometimes has his doubts and despondencies about our firmness, that America is determined and unanimous: a very few tories and placemen excepted, who will probably soon export themselves. Britain, at the expense of three millions has killed in this campaign,one hundred and fifty yankees!which is 20,000 pounds sterling a head; and at Bunker's hill she gained half a mile of ground! During the same time she lost, at one place, near one thousand men, and we have had a good sixty thousand children born in America. From these data, with the help of his mathematical head, lord North will easily calculate the time and expense necessary to kill us all, and conquer our whole territory.—
"I am yours, B. FRANKLIN."
In another letter to the same, and of the same date, he says:
"Britain still goes on to goad and exasperate. She despises us too much; and seems to forget the Italian proverb, that 'there is no little enemy.' I am persuaded the body of the British people are our friends; but your lying gazettes may soon make them our enemies—and I see clearly that we are on the high road to mutual enmity, hatred, and detestation. Aseparationwill of course be inevitable. It is a million of pities so fair a plan, as we have hitherto been engaged in for increasingstrengthandempirewithpublic felicity, should be destroyed by the mangling hands of a few blundering ministers. It will not be destroyed:God will protect and prosper it: you will only exclude yourselves from any share of it. We hear that more ships and troops are coming out. We know you may do us a great deal of mischief, but we are determined to bear it patiently; but if you flatter yourselves with beating us into submission, you know neither the people nor the country."I am ever your's, most affectionately,"B. FRANKLIN."
"Britain still goes on to goad and exasperate. She despises us too much; and seems to forget the Italian proverb, that 'there is no little enemy.' I am persuaded the body of the British people are our friends; but your lying gazettes may soon make them our enemies—and I see clearly that we are on the high road to mutual enmity, hatred, and detestation. Aseparationwill of course be inevitable. It is a million of pities so fair a plan, as we have hitherto been engaged in for increasingstrengthandempirewithpublic felicity, should be destroyed by the mangling hands of a few blundering ministers. It will not be destroyed:God will protect and prosper it: you will only exclude yourselves from any share of it. We hear that more ships and troops are coming out. We know you may do us a great deal of mischief, but we are determined to bear it patiently; but if you flatter yourselves with beating us into submission, you know neither the people nor the country.
"I am ever your's, most affectionately,
"B. FRANKLIN."
This letter of Doctor Franklin's is the first thing I have seen that utters a whisper aboutIndependence. It was, however, apropheticalwhisper, and soon found its accomplishment in the source that Franklin predicted—thebarbarity of Britain. To see war waged against them by a power whom they had always gloried in as theirMother Country—to see it waged because as thechildren of Englishmen, they had only asked for thecommon rights of Englishmen—to see it waged with a savageness unknown among civilized nations, and all the powers of earth and hell, as it were, stirred up against them—the Indians with their bloody tomahawks and scalping knives—the negroes with their midnight hoes and axes—the merciless flames let loose on their midwinter towns—with prisons, chains, and starvation of their worthiest citizens. "Such miserable specimens," as Franklin termed them, "of the British government," produced every where in the colonies a disposition todetest and avoid it as a complication of robbery, murder, famine, fire and pestilence.
On the 7th of June, resolutions respecting independence, were moved and seconded in Congress. Doctor Franklin threw all the weight of his wisdom and character into the scale in favour of independence.
"Independence," said he, "will cut the Gordian knot at once, and give us freedom.
"I.Freedom from the oppressive kings, and endless wars, and mad politics, and forced religion of an unreasonable and cruel government.
"II.Freedom to choose a fair, and cheap, and reasonable government of our own.
"III.Freedom to live in friendship with all nations; and
"IV.Freedom to trade with all."
On the 4th of July, theIndependenceof the United States was declared. Immediately on the finishing of this great work, doctor Franklin, with a committee of the first talents in Congress, prepared a number of very masterly addresses to the courts of Europe, informing what the United States had done; assigning their reasons for so doing; and tendering in the most affectionate terms, the friendship and trade of the young nation. The potentates of Europe were, generally, well pleased to hear that a new star had risen in the west, and talked freely of opening their treasures and presenting their gifts of friendship, &c.
But the European power that seemed most to rejoice in this event was the French. In August, doctor Franklin was appointed by Congress to visit the French court, for the purpose of forming an alliance with that powerful people. It was his friend, Doctor B. Rush, who first announced to him the choice which Congress had made, adding, at the same time, his hearty congratulations on that account.
"Why, doctor," replied he with a smile, "I am now, like an old broom, worn down to the stump in my country's service—near seventy years old. But such as I am, she must, I suppose, have the last of me." Like the brave Dutch republicans, each with his wallet of herrings on his back, when they went forth to negotiate with the proud Dons, so did doctor Franklin set out to court the great French nation, with no provisions for his journey, but a few hogsheads of tobacco. He was received in France, however, with a most hearty welcome, not only as an envoy from a brave people fighting for their rights, but also as the famed American philosopher, who by hisparatonerres(lightning rods) had disarmed the clouds of their lightnings, and who, it was hoped, would reduce the colossal power of Great Britain.
He had not been long in Paris, before the attention of all the courts of Europe was attached to him, by a publication, wherein he demonstrated, that,the young, healthy, and sturdy republic of America, with her simple manners, laborious habits, and millions of fresh land and produce, would be a much safer borrower of money, than the old, profligate, and debt-burthened government of Britain. The Dutch and French courts, in particular, read his arguments with such attention, that they soon began to make him loans. To the French cabinet he pointed out, "the inevitable destruction of their fleets, colonies, and commerce, in case of a re-union of britain and america." There wanted but a grain to turn the trembling balance in favour of America.
But it was the will of Heaven to withhold that grain a good long while. And Franklin had the mortification to find, that although the French were an exceedingly polite people; constantly eulogizingGeneral Washingtonandthe Brave Bostonians, on every little victory; and also for their tobacco, very thriftily smuggling all the fire arms and ammunition they could into the United States, yet they had no notion of coming out manfully at once upon the British lion, until they should first see the American Eagle lay the monster on his back. Dr. Franklin, of course, was permitted to rest on his oars, at Passy, in the neighbourhood of Paris, His characteristic philanthropy, however, could not allow him to be idle at a court, whose pride and extravagance were so horribly irreconcileable with his ideas of the true use of riches,i.e.Independencefor ourselves, andBeneficenceto others. And he presently came out in the Paris Gazette with the following master piece ofWitandEconomics.
To the Editors of the Paris Journal.Gentlemen,I was the other evening in a grand company, where the new lamp of Messrs. Quinquet and Lange was introduced, and much admired for its splendour; but a general inquiry was made, whether the oil it consumed, was not in proportion to the light it afforded; in which case there would be no saving in the use of it. No one present could satisfy us on that point; which all agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable thing to lessen, if possible, the expense of lighting our apartments, when every other article of family expense was so much augmented.I was pleased to see this general concern for economy; for I love economy exceedingly.I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after midnight, with my head full of the subject. An accidental sudden noise awaked me about six in the morning, when I was surprised to find my room filled with light; and I imagined, at first, that a number of these lamps had been brought into it; but rubbing my eyes, I perceived the light came in at my windows. I got up, and looked out to see what might be the occasion of it, when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, whence he poured his rays plentifully into my chamber, my domestic having negligently omitted, the preceding evening, to close the shutters.I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and found that it was but six o'clock; and still thinking it something extraordinary that the sun should rise so early, I looked into the almanack; where I found it to be the hour given for its rising on that day.Your readers, who, with me, have never seen any signs of sunshine before noon, and seldom regard the astronomical part of the almanack, will be as much astonished as I was, when they hear of his rising so early; and especially when I assure themthat he gives light as soon as he rises. I am certain of the fact.I saw it with my own eyes.And having repeated this observation the three following mornings, I found always precisely the same result.Yet so it happens, that when I speak of this discovery to others, I can easily perceive by their countenances, though they forbear expressing it in words, that they do not quite believe me. One, indeed, who is a learned natural philosopher, has assured me that I must certainly be mistaken as to the circumstance of the light coming into my room; for it being well known, as he says, that there could be no light abroad at that hour, it follows that none could enter from without; and that of consequence, my windows being accidentally left open, instead ofletting in the light, had only served tolet out the darkness.This event has given rise, in my mind, to several serious and important reflections. I considered that, if I had not been awakened so early in the morning, I should have slept six hours longer by the light of the sun, and in exchange have lived six hours the following night by candle-light; and the latter being a much more expensive light than the former, my love of economy induced me to muster up what little arithmetic I was master of, and to make some calculations, which I shall give you, after observing, that utility is, in my opinion, the test of value in matters of invention, and that a discovery which can be applied to no use, or is not good for something, is good for nothing.I took for the basis of my calculation, the supposition that there are 100,000 families in Paris; and that these families consume in the night half a pound of candles, per hour. I think this a moderate allowance, taking one family with another; for though I believe some consume less, I know that many consume a great deal more. Then, estimating seven hours per day, as the medium quantity between the time of thesun'srising andours, and there being seven hours, of course, per night, in which we burn candles, the account will stand thus:In 12 months there are nights 365; hours of each night in which we burn candles 7; multiplication gives for the total number of hours 2555. These multiplied by 100,000, the number of families in Paris, give 255,000,000 hours spent at Paris by candle-light, which, at half a pound of wax and tallow per hour, give 127,750,000 pounds, worth, at 3 livres the pound, 383,250,000 livres; upwards ofthirty millions of dollars!!!An immense sum! that the city of Paris might save every year, by the economy of usingsunshineinstead of candles.—If it should be said, that the people are very apt to be obstinately attached to old customs, and that it will be difficult to induce them to rise before noon, consequently my discovery can be of little use, I answer, we must not despair. I believe all, who have common sense, as soon as they have learnt, from this paper, that it is daylight when the sun rises, will contrive to rise with him; and to compel the rest, I would propose the following regulations:First. Let a tax be laid of a louis, (a guinea,) per window, on every window that is provided with shutters to keep out the light of the sun.Second. Let guards be placed in the shops of the wax and tallow-chandlers; and no family be permitted to be supplied with more than one pound of candles per week.Third. Let guards be posted, to stop all the coaches, &c. that would pass the streets after sunset, except those of physicians, surgeons, and midwives.Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, let all the bells in the city be set ringing; and if that be not sufficient let cannon be fired in every street, to awake the sluggards effectually, and make them open their eyes to see their true interest.All the difficulty will be in the first two or three days: after which the reformation will be as natural and easy as the present irregularity. Oblige a man to rise at four in the morning, and, it is more than probable, he shall go willingly to bed at eight in the evening; and having had eight hours sleep, he will rise more willingly at four, in the morning following.For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely communicated and bestowed by me, on the good city of Paris, I demand neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, nor any other reward whatever. I expect only to have thehonourof it. And yet I know there are little envious minds, who will, as usual, deny me this, and say that my invention was known to the ancients. I will not dispute that the ancients knew that the sun would rise at certain hours. They possibly had almanacks that predicted it; but it does not follow, thence, that they knewthat he gave light an soon as he rose. This is what I claim as my discovery.If the ancients knew it, it must long since have been forgotten; for it certainly was unknown to the moderns, at least to the Parisians; which to prove, I need use but one plain simple argument. They are as well instructed and prudent a people as exist, any where in the world; all professing, like myself, to be lovers of economy; and, from the many heavy taxes required from them by the necessities of the state, have surely reason to be economical. I say it is impossible that so sensible a people, under such circumstances, should have lived so long by thesmoky, unwholesome and enormously expensive light of candles, if they had really known that they might have as much pure light of the sun for nothing. I am, &c.An ABONNE.
To the Editors of the Paris Journal.
Gentlemen,
I was the other evening in a grand company, where the new lamp of Messrs. Quinquet and Lange was introduced, and much admired for its splendour; but a general inquiry was made, whether the oil it consumed, was not in proportion to the light it afforded; in which case there would be no saving in the use of it. No one present could satisfy us on that point; which all agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable thing to lessen, if possible, the expense of lighting our apartments, when every other article of family expense was so much augmented.
I was pleased to see this general concern for economy; for I love economy exceedingly.
I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after midnight, with my head full of the subject. An accidental sudden noise awaked me about six in the morning, when I was surprised to find my room filled with light; and I imagined, at first, that a number of these lamps had been brought into it; but rubbing my eyes, I perceived the light came in at my windows. I got up, and looked out to see what might be the occasion of it, when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, whence he poured his rays plentifully into my chamber, my domestic having negligently omitted, the preceding evening, to close the shutters.
I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and found that it was but six o'clock; and still thinking it something extraordinary that the sun should rise so early, I looked into the almanack; where I found it to be the hour given for its rising on that day.
Your readers, who, with me, have never seen any signs of sunshine before noon, and seldom regard the astronomical part of the almanack, will be as much astonished as I was, when they hear of his rising so early; and especially when I assure themthat he gives light as soon as he rises. I am certain of the fact.I saw it with my own eyes.And having repeated this observation the three following mornings, I found always precisely the same result.
Yet so it happens, that when I speak of this discovery to others, I can easily perceive by their countenances, though they forbear expressing it in words, that they do not quite believe me. One, indeed, who is a learned natural philosopher, has assured me that I must certainly be mistaken as to the circumstance of the light coming into my room; for it being well known, as he says, that there could be no light abroad at that hour, it follows that none could enter from without; and that of consequence, my windows being accidentally left open, instead ofletting in the light, had only served tolet out the darkness.
This event has given rise, in my mind, to several serious and important reflections. I considered that, if I had not been awakened so early in the morning, I should have slept six hours longer by the light of the sun, and in exchange have lived six hours the following night by candle-light; and the latter being a much more expensive light than the former, my love of economy induced me to muster up what little arithmetic I was master of, and to make some calculations, which I shall give you, after observing, that utility is, in my opinion, the test of value in matters of invention, and that a discovery which can be applied to no use, or is not good for something, is good for nothing.
I took for the basis of my calculation, the supposition that there are 100,000 families in Paris; and that these families consume in the night half a pound of candles, per hour. I think this a moderate allowance, taking one family with another; for though I believe some consume less, I know that many consume a great deal more. Then, estimating seven hours per day, as the medium quantity between the time of thesun'srising andours, and there being seven hours, of course, per night, in which we burn candles, the account will stand thus:
In 12 months there are nights 365; hours of each night in which we burn candles 7; multiplication gives for the total number of hours 2555. These multiplied by 100,000, the number of families in Paris, give 255,000,000 hours spent at Paris by candle-light, which, at half a pound of wax and tallow per hour, give 127,750,000 pounds, worth, at 3 livres the pound, 383,250,000 livres; upwards ofthirty millions of dollars!!!
An immense sum! that the city of Paris might save every year, by the economy of usingsunshineinstead of candles.—If it should be said, that the people are very apt to be obstinately attached to old customs, and that it will be difficult to induce them to rise before noon, consequently my discovery can be of little use, I answer, we must not despair. I believe all, who have common sense, as soon as they have learnt, from this paper, that it is daylight when the sun rises, will contrive to rise with him; and to compel the rest, I would propose the following regulations:
First. Let a tax be laid of a louis, (a guinea,) per window, on every window that is provided with shutters to keep out the light of the sun.
Second. Let guards be placed in the shops of the wax and tallow-chandlers; and no family be permitted to be supplied with more than one pound of candles per week.
Third. Let guards be posted, to stop all the coaches, &c. that would pass the streets after sunset, except those of physicians, surgeons, and midwives.
Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, let all the bells in the city be set ringing; and if that be not sufficient let cannon be fired in every street, to awake the sluggards effectually, and make them open their eyes to see their true interest.
All the difficulty will be in the first two or three days: after which the reformation will be as natural and easy as the present irregularity. Oblige a man to rise at four in the morning, and, it is more than probable, he shall go willingly to bed at eight in the evening; and having had eight hours sleep, he will rise more willingly at four, in the morning following.
For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely communicated and bestowed by me, on the good city of Paris, I demand neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, nor any other reward whatever. I expect only to have thehonourof it. And yet I know there are little envious minds, who will, as usual, deny me this, and say that my invention was known to the ancients. I will not dispute that the ancients knew that the sun would rise at certain hours. They possibly had almanacks that predicted it; but it does not follow, thence, that they knewthat he gave light an soon as he rose. This is what I claim as my discovery.If the ancients knew it, it must long since have been forgotten; for it certainly was unknown to the moderns, at least to the Parisians; which to prove, I need use but one plain simple argument. They are as well instructed and prudent a people as exist, any where in the world; all professing, like myself, to be lovers of economy; and, from the many heavy taxes required from them by the necessities of the state, have surely reason to be economical. I say it is impossible that so sensible a people, under such circumstances, should have lived so long by thesmoky, unwholesome and enormously expensive light of candles, if they had really known that they might have as much pure light of the sun for nothing. I am, &c.
An ABONNE.
And now, as Dr. Franklin is permitted to breathe a little from his herculean toils, let us, good reader, breathe a little too, and amuse ourselves with the following anecdotes.
Nothing can better illustrate the spirit, which Dr. Franklin carried with him to the court of Louis XVI., and the spirit he found there.
On Dr. Franklin's arrival at Paris, as plenipotentiary from the United States, during the revolution, the king expressed a wish to see him immediately. As there was no going to the court of France in those days without permission of the wigmaker, a wigmaker of course was sent for. In an instant a richly dressed Monsieur, his arms folded in a prodigious muff of furs, and a long sword by his side, made his appearance. It was the king'sWigmaker, with his servant in livery, a long sword byhisside too, and a load of sweet scented band-boxes, full of "de wig," as he said, "de superb wig for de great docteer Franklin." One of the wigs was tried on—a worldtoo small! Band-box after band-box was tried; but all with the same ill success! The wigmaker fell into the most violent rage, to the extreme mortification of Dr. Franklin, that a gentleman so bedecked with silks and perfumes, should, notwithstanding, be such a child. Presently, however, as in all the transports of agrand discovery, the wigmaker cried out to Dr. Franklin, that he had just found out where the fault lay—"not in his wig as too small; O no, by gar! his wig no too small; but de docteer's head too big; great deal too big." Franklin, smiling, replied, that the fault could hardly liethere; for that his head was made of God Almighty himself, who was not subject to err. Upon this the wigmaker took in a little; but still contended that there must be something the matter with Dr. Franklin's head. It was at any rate, he said,out of the fashion. He begged Dr. Franklin would only please for remember,dat his head had not de honeerto be made inParree. No, by gar! for if it had been made inParree, it no bin more danhalf such a head. "None of the French Noblesse," he swore, "had a head any tinglike his. Not de great duke d'Orleans, nor de grand monarque himself hadhalf such a head as docteer Franklin. Andhe did not see," he said, "what business any body had wid a head more big dan de head of de grand monarque."
Pleased to see the poor wigmaker recover his good humour, Dr. Franklin could not find in his heart to put a check to his childish rant, but related one of hisfine anecdotes, which struck the wigmaker with such an idea of his wit, that as he retired, which he did, bowing most profoundly, he shrugged his shoulders, and with a look most significantly arch, he said:
"Ah, docteer Frankline! docteer Frankline!I no wonder your head too big for my wig. By gar I 'fraid your head be too big forall de French nationg."
THE BLUE YARN STOCKINGS.
When Dr. Franklin was received at the French court as American minister, he felt some scruples of conscience in complying with theirfashions as to dress. "He hoped," he said to the minister, "that as he was himself a very plain man, and represented a plain republican people, the king would indulge his desire to appear at court in his usual dress. Independent of this, the season of the year, he said, rendered the change from warm yarn stockings to fine silk, somewhat dangerous."
The French minister made him a bow, but said, thatthe fashionwas too sacred a thing for him to meddle with, but he would do himself the honour to mention it to hisMajesty.
The king smiled, and returned word that Dr. Franklin was welcome to appear at court inany dress he pleased. In spite of that delicate respect for strangers, for which the French are so remarkable, the courtiers could not help staring, at first, at Dr. Franklin's quaker-like dress, and especially his "Blue Yarn Stockings." But it soon appeared as though he had been introduced upon this splendid theatre only to demonstrate that, great genius, like true beauty, "needs not the foreign aid of ornament." The court were so dazzled with the brilliancy of his mind that they never looked at his stockings. And while many other ministers who figured in all the gaudy fashions of the day are now forgotten, the name of Dr. Franklin is still mentioned in Paris with all the ardour of the most affectionate enthusiasm.
CHAPTER XLII.
Imagination can hardly conceive a succession of pleasures more elegant and refined than those which Dr. Franklin, now on the shady side of threescore and ten, continued daily to enjoy in the vicinity of Paris—his mornings constantly devoted to his beloved studies, and his evenings to the cheerful society of his friends—the greatest monarch of Europe heaping him with honours unasked, and the brightestWitsandBeautiesof his court vying with each other in their attentions to him. And thus as the golden hours rolled along, they still found him happy—gratefully contrasting his present glory with his humble origin, and thence breathing nothing but benevolence to man—firmly confiding in the care of Heaven—and fully persuaded that his smiles would yet descend upon his countrymen, now fighting the good fight of liberty and happiness.
While waiting in strong hope of this most desirable of all events, he received, by express, December 1777, the welcome news that the battle had been joined in America, and that God had delivered a noble wing of the British army into the hands of the brave republicans at Saratoga. O ye, who, rejecting the philosophy of all embracing love, know no joys beyond what the miser feels when his own little heap increases, how faintly can you conceive what this great apostle of liberty enjoyed when he found that his countrymen still retained the fire of their gallant fathers, and were resolved to live free or press a glorious grave! He lost no time to improve this splendid victory to the good of his country. In several audiences with the king and his ministers, he clearly demonstrated that France in all her days of ancient danger had never known so dark a cloud impending over her as at this awful crisis. "If Great Britain," said he, "already so powerful were to subdue the revolted colonies and add all North America to her empire, she would in twenty years be strong enough to crush the power of France and not leave her an island or a ship on the ocean." As a sudden flash of lightning from the opening clouds before the burst of thunder and rain, such was the shock produced by this argument on the mind of every thinking man throughout France. The courtiers with all their talents for dissembling could not conceal their hostile feelings from the British minister resident among them. He marked it, not without sentiments of answering hostility, which he could no better conceal, and which, indeed, after the honest bluntness of his national character, he did not care to conceal. The increased attentions paid to Dr. Franklin, and the rejoicings in Paris on account of the American victories, were but illy calculated to soothe his displeasure. Bitter complaints were presently forwarded to his court—angry remonstrances to the French cabinet followed—and in a short time the embers of ancient hate were blown up to flames of fury so diabolical that nothing but war, with all its rivers of human blood could extinguish it. War, of course, was proclaimed—Paris was illuminated—and the thunder of the Royal cannon soon announced to the willing citizens that the die was cast, and that the Grand Monarque was become the Ally of the United States.
"While there is any thing to be done nothing is done," said Cæsar. Franklin thought so too. He had succeeded in his efforts to persuade the warlike French to take part with his oppressed countrymen; but the Spaniards and the Dutch were still neutral. To rouse their hostile feelings against Great Britain, and to make them the hearty partisans of Washington, was his next study. The event quickly showed that he had studied human nature with success. He who had been the playmate of lightnings for theglory of God, found no difficulty in stirring up thewrath of man to praise him—by chastising the sons of violence. The tall black ships of war were soon seen to rush forth from the ports of Holland and Spain, laden with the implements of death, to arrest the mad ambition of Great Britain, and maintain the balance of power. How dearly ought the American people to prize their liberties, for which such bloody contribution was laid on the human race! Imagination glances with terror on that dismal war whose spread was over half the solid and half the watery globe. Its devouring fires burned from the dark wilds of North America to the distant isles of India; and the blood of its victims was mingled with the brine of every ocean. But, thanks to God, the conflict, though violent, was but short. And much of the honour of bringing it to a close is to be conceded to the instrumentality of Dr. Franklin.
We have seen that in 1763, he was sent (of Heaven no doubt, for it was an act worthy of his all-benevolent character,) a preacher of righteousness, to the proud court of Britain. His luminous preachings, (through the press,) on the injustice and unconstitutionality of the ministerial taxing measures on the colonies, shed such light, that thousands of honest Englishmen set their faces against them, and also against the war to which they saw it was tending. These converts to justice, these doves of peace, were not sufficiently numerous to defeat the war-hawks of their bloody purposes. But when they found that the war into which they had plunged with such confidence, had not, instantly, as they expected, reduced the colonies to slavish submission; but that, instead thereof, one half Europe in favour of America, was in arms against them with a horrible destruction of lives and property which they had not counted on, and of which they saw no end, they seriously deplored their folly in not pursuing the counsel of doctor Franklin. The nation was still, however, dragged on in war, plunging like a stalled animal, deeper and deeper in disaster and distress, until the capture of lord Cornwallis and his army came like a thunder-bolt, inflicting on the war party a death blow, from which they never afterwards recovered.
Dr. Franklin received this most welcome piece of news, the surrender of lord Cornwallis, by express from America. He had scarcely read the letters with the tear of joy swelling in his patriot eye, when Mr. Necker came in. Seeing the transport on his face, he eagerly asked whatgood news. "Thank God," replied Franklin, "the storm is past. The paratonerres of divine justice have drawn off the lightning of British violence, and here, sir, is the rainbow of peace," holding up the letter. What am I to understand by that, replied Necker. Why, sir, quoth Franklin, my lord Cornwallis and his army are prisoners of war to general Washington. Doctor Franklin's calculation, on the surrender of Cornwallis,that the storm was past, was very correct; for, although the thunders did not immediately cease, yet, after that event, they hardly amounted to any thing beyond a harmless rumbling, which presently subsided altogether, leaving a fine bright sky behind them.
CHAPTER XLIII.
The rest of the acts of doctor Franklin while he resided in France, and the many pleasures he enjoyed there, were first, the great pleasure of announcing to the French court, in 1781, as we have seen, the surrender of lord Cornwallis and his army to general Washington. Second, the still greater pleasure of learning in 1782, that the British ministry were strongly inclined to "a peace talk." Third, 1783, the greatest pleasure of all, the pleasure ofburying the tomahawk, by general peace.
Thus after having lived to see completely verified all his awful predictions to the blind and obstinate British cabinet about the result of this disastrous war; with losses indeed, beyond his prediction—the loss of two thousand ships!—the loss of one hundred thousand lives!—the loss of seven hundred millions of dollars! and a loss still greater than all, the loss of the immense continent of North America, and the monopoly of its incalculable produce and trade, shortly to fly on wings of canvass to all parts of the globe.
Having lived to see happily terminated, the grand struggle for American liberty, which even Englishmen have pronounced "the last hope and probable refuge of mankind," and having obtained leave from congress to return, he took a last farewell of his generous Parisian friends, and embarked for his native country.
On the night of the 4th of September, the ship made the light-house at the mouth of the Delaware bay. On coming upon deck next morning, he beheld all in full view and close at hand the lovely shores of America, "where his fathers had dwelt." Who can paint the joy-brightened looks of our veteran patriot, when, after an absence of seven years, he beheld once more that beloved country for whose liberties and morals he had so long contended? Formerly, with an aching heart, he had beheld her as a dear mother, whose fame was tarnished, and her liberties half ravished by foreign lords. But now he greets her as free again, and freed, through heaven's blessing on herown heroic virtue and valour. Crowned thus with tenfold glory, he hails her with transport, as the grand nursery of civil and religious freedom, whose fair example of republican wisdom and moderation is, probably, destined of God to recommend the blessings of free government to all mankind.
The next day in the afternoon he arrived at Philadelphia. It is not for me to describe what he felt in sailing along up these lovely shores, while the heaven within diffused a double brightness and beauty over all the fair and magnificent scenes around. Neither is it for me to delineate the numerous demonstrations of public joy, wherewith the citizens of Philadelphia welcomed the man whom they all delighted to honour. Suffice it to say, that he was landed amidst the firing of cannon—that he was crowded with congratulatory addresses—that he was invited to sumptuous banquets, &c. &c. &c. But though it was highly gratifying to others to see transcendent worth so duly noticed, yet to himself, who had been so long familiar with such honours, they appeared but as baubles that had lost their tinsel.
But there were some pledges of respect offered him, which afforded a heartfelt satisfaction; I mean those numbers of pressing invitations to accept the presidencies of sundry noble institutions for public good, as
I. A society for diffusing a knowledge of the best politics for our republic.
II. A society for alleviating the miseries of public prisons.
III. A society for abolishing the slave trade—the relief of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage—and for bettering the condition of the poor blacks.
"It was because," said the trustees, "they well knew he had made it the sole scope of his greatly useful life to promote institutions for the happiness of mankind, that they now solicited the honour and benefit of his special care and guardianship."
Though now almost worn out with the toils of fourscore years, and oftentimes grievously afflicted with his old complaint, the gravel, he yet accepted the proffered appointments with great pleasure, and attended to the duties of them with all the ardour of youth. Thus affording one more proof,
"That, in the present as in all the pastO SAVE MY COUNTRY, HEAVEN! was still his last."
"That, in the present as in all the pastO SAVE MY COUNTRY, HEAVEN! was still his last."
"That, in the present as in all the past
O SAVE MY COUNTRY, HEAVEN! was still his last."
"But though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak." His strength was so sensibly diminished that it could scarcely second his mind, which seemed as unimpaired as ever.
But there was still one more service that his country looked to him for, before he went to rest; I mean that of aiding her councils in the grand convention that was about to sit in Philadelphia for the purpose of framing the present excellent constitution. He was called to this duty in 1787. The speech which he made in that convention has a high claim to our notice, not only because it was the last speech that Dr. Franklin ever made in public; but because nothing ever yet placed in a fairer light the charm of modesty in a great man; and also the force of temperance, exercise and cheerfulness, which could preserve the intellectual faculties in such vigour, to the astonishing age ofeighty-two!!
Final Speech of doctor Franklin in the Federal Convention.—George Washington, President.
Mr. President,
I do not entirely approve this constitution at present, but, sir, I am not sure I shall never approve it; for, having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged, by better information, to change opinions which I once thought right. It is, therefore, that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. Most men, indeed, as well as most sects of religion, think themselves in possession ofall truth, and that whenever others differ from them, it is so far error. Steele, a protestant, tells the pope, that "the only difference between our two churches, in their opinion of the certainty of their doctrines, is, the Romish church isinfallible, and the church of Englandneverin thewrong."
But though many private persons think almost as highly of their own infallibility, as of that of their sect, few express it so naturally as a certain French lady, who, in a little dispute with her sister, said, "I don't know how it happens, sister, but I meet with nobody but myself that is always in the right." In these sentiments, sir, I agree to this constitution, with all its faults, if they are such; because I think a general government necessary for us, and there is no form of government but what may be a blessing, if well administered; and I believe farther, that this is likely to be well administered for a course of years, and can only end in despotism, as other forms have done before it, when the people shall become so corrupted, as to need despotic government, being incapable of any other. I doubt too, whether any other convention we can obtain, may be able to make a better constitution. For when you assemble a number of men, to have the advantage of their joint wisdom, you assemble with those men, all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly, can a perfect production be expected? It therefore astonishes me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does; and I think it will confound our enemies, who are waiting with confidence, to hear that our councils are confounded, like those of the builders of Babel, and that our states are on the point of separation, only to meet hereafter for the purpose of cutting each other's throats.
Thus I consent, sir, to this constitution, because I expect no better, and because I am notsure that this is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good. I have never whispered a syllable of them abroad. Within these walls they were born, and here they shall die. If every one of us, in returning to our constituents, were to report the objections he has had to it, and endeavour to gain partisans in support of them, we might prevent its being generally received, and thereby lose all the great advantages resulting naturally in our favour among foreign nations, as well as among ourselves, from our real or apparent unanimity. Much of the efficiency of any government, in procuring and securing happiness to the people, depends on the general opinion of the goodness of that government, as well as of the wisdom and integrity of its governors.
I hope, therefore, that for ourown sakes, as a part of the people, and for the sake ofour posterity, we shall act heartily and unanimously, in recommending this constitution, wherever our influence may extend, and turn our future thoughts and endeavours to the means of having it well administered.
On the whole, sir, I cannot help expressing a wish, that every member of the convention, who may still have objections, would, with me, on this occasion, doubt a little of his own infallibility, and making manifest our unanimity, put his name to this instrument.
CHAPTER XLIV.