Parıs 1776-1785
PARIS 1776-1785
by Benjamin Franklin
_The Sale of the Hessians_
FROM THE COUNT DE SCHAUMBERGH TO THE BARON
HOHENDORF, COMMANDING THE HESSIAN TROOPS
IN AMERICA
Rome, February 18, 1777.
MONSIEUR LE BARON: — On my return from Naples, I received at
Rome your letter of the 27th December of last year. I have learned
with unspeakable pleasure the courage our troops exhibited at
Trenton, and you cannot imagine my joy on being told that of the
1,950 Hessians engaged in the fight, but 345 escaped. There were
just 1,605 men killed, and I cannot sufficiently commend your
prudence in sending an exact list of the dead to my minister in
London. This precaution was the more necessary, as the report sent
to the English ministry does not give but 1,455 dead. This would
make 483,450 florins instead of 643,500 which I am entitled to demand
under our convention. You will comprehend the prejudice which such
an error would work in my finances, and I do not doubt you will take
the necessary pains to prove that Lord North’s list is false and
yours correct.
The court of London objects that there were a hundred wounded
who ought not to be included in the list, nor paid for as dead; but I
trust you will not overlook my instructions to you on quitting
Cassel, and that you will not have tried by human succor to recall
the life of the unfortunates whose days could not be lengthened but
by the loss of a leg or an arm. That would be making them a
pernicious present, and I am sure they would rather die than live in
a condition no longer fit for my service. I do not mean by this that
you should assassinate them; we should be humane, my dear Baron, but
you may insinuate to the surgeons with entire propriety that a
crippled man is a reproach to their profession, and that there is no
wiser course than to let every one of them die when he ceases to be
fit to fight.
I am about to send to you some new recruits. Don’t economize
them. Remember glory before all things. Glory is true wealth.
There is nothing degrades the soldier like the love of money. He
must care only for honour and reputation, but this reputation must be
acquired in the midst of dangers. A battle gained without costing
the conqueror any blood is an inglorious success, while the conquered
cover themselves with glory by perishing with their arms in their
hands. Do you remember that of the 300 Lacedaemonians who defended
the defile of Thermopyl;ae, not one returned? How happy should I be
could I say the same of my brave Hessians!
It is true that their king, Leonidas, perished with them: but
things have changed, and it is no longer the custom for princes of
the empire to go and fight in America for a cause with which they
have no concern. And besides, to whom should they pay the thirty
guineas per man if I did not stay in Europe to receive them? Then,
it is necessary also that I be ready to send recruits to replace the
men you lose. For this purpose I must return to Hesse. It is true,
grown men are becoming scarce there, but I will send you boys.
Besides, the scarcer the commodity the higher the price. I am
assured that the women and little girls have begun to till our lands,
and they get on not badly. You did right to send back to Europe that
Dr. Crumerus who was so successful in curing dysentery. Don’t bother
with a man who is subject to looseness of the bowels. That disease
makes bad soldiers. One coward will do more mischief in an
engagement than ten brave men will do good. Better that they burst
in their barracks than fly in a battle, and tarnish the glory of our
arms. Besides, you know that they pay me as killed for all who die
from disease, and I don’t get a farthing for runaways. My trip to
Italy, which has cost me enormously, makes it desirable that there
should be a great mortality among them. You will therefore promise
promotion to all who expose themselves; you will exhort them to seek
glory in the midst of dangers; you will say to Major Maundorff that I
am not at all content with his saving the 345 men who escaped the
massacre of Trenton. Through the whole campaign he has not had ten
men killed in consequence of his orders. Finally, let it be your
principal object to prolong the war and avoid a decisive engagement
on either side, for I have made arrangements for a grand Italian
opera, and I do not wish to be obliged to give it up. Meantime I
pray God, my dear Baron de Hohendorf, to have you in his holy and
gracious keeping.
_Model of a Letter of Recommendation_
Sir Paris April 2, 1777
The Bearer of this who is going to America, presses me to give
him a Letter of Recommendation, tho’ I know nothing of him, not even
his Name. This may seem extraordinary, but I assure you it is not
uncommon here. Sometimes indeed one unknown Person brings me another
equally unknown, to recommend him; and sometimes they recommend one
another! As to this Gentleman, I must refer you to himself for his
Character and Merits, with which he is certainly better acquainted
than I can possibly be; I recommend him however to those Civilities
which every Stranger, of whom one knows no Harm, has a Right to, and
I request you will do him all the good Offices and show him all the
Favour that on further Acquaintance you shall find him to deserve. I
have the honour to be, &c.
_The Twelve Commandments_
TO MADAME BRILLON
Passy March 10.
I am charm’d with the goodness of my spiritual guide, and
resign myself implicitly to her Conduct, as she promises to lead me
to heaven in so delicious a Road when I could be content to travel
thither even in the roughest of all ways with the pleasure of her
Company.
How kindly partial to her Penitent in finding him, on examining
his conscience, guilty of only one capital sin and to call that by
the gentle name of Foible!
I lay fast hold of your promise to absolve me of all Sins past,
present, & future, on the easy & pleasing Condition of loving God,
America and my guide above all things. I am in Rapture when I think
of being absolv’d of the future.
People commonly speak of Ten Commandments. — I have been
taught that there are twelve. The first was increase & multiply &
replenish the earth. The twelfth is, A new Commandment I give unto
you, _that you love one another._ It seems to me that they are a
little misplaced, And that the last should have been the first.
However I never made any difficulty about that, but was always
willing to obey them both whenever I had an opportunity. Pray tell
me my dear Casuist, whether my keeping religiously these two
commandments tho’ not in the Decalogue, may not be accepted in
Compensation for my breaking so often one of the ten I mean that
which forbids Coveting my neighbour’s wife, and which I confess I
break constantly God forgive me, as often as I see or think of my
lovely Confessor, and I am afraid I should never be able to repent of
the Sin even if I had the full Possession of her.
And now I am Consulting you upon a Case of Conscience I will
mention the Opinion of a certain Father of the church which I find
myself willing to adopt though I am not sure it is orthodox. It is
this, that the most effectual way to get rid of a certain Temptation
is, as often as it returns, to comply with and satisfy it.
Pray instruct me how far I may venture to practice upon this
Principle?
But why should I be so scrupulous when you have promised to
absolve me of the future?
Adieu my charming Conductress and believe me ever with the
sincerest Esteem & affection.
Your most obed’t hum. Serv.
1778
_Petition of the Letter Z_
FROM THE TATLER N 1778
TO THE WORSHIPFUL ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ;
CENSOR-GENERAL
THE PETITION OF THE LETTER Z COMMONLY CALLED
EZZARD, ZED, or IZARD, MOST HUMBLY SHEWETH,
He was always talking of his Family and of his being a Man of
Fortune.
That your Petitioner is of as high extraction, and has as
good an Estate as any other Letter of the Alphabet.
And complaining of his being treated, not with due Respect
That there is therefore no reason why he should be treated as
he is with Disrespect and Indignity.
At the tail of the Commission, of Ministers
He was not of the Commission for France, A Lee being preferr’d
to him, which made him very angry; and the Character here given of S,
is just what he in his Passion gave Lee.
That he is not only plac’d at the Tail of the Alphabet, when he
had as much Right as any other to be at the Head; but is, by the
Injustice of his enemies totally excluded from the Word WISE, and his
Place injuriously filled by a little, hissing, crooked, serpentine,
venemous Letter called s, when it must be evident to your Worship,
and to all the World, that Double U, I, S. E do not spell or sound
_Wize_, but _Wice._
The most impatient Man alive
Your Petitioner therefore prays that the Alphabet may by your
Censorial Authority be reformed, and that in Consideration of his
_Long-Suffering_ & _Patience_ he may be placed at the Head of it;
that S may be turned out of the Word Wise, and the Petitioner
employ’d instead of him;
And your Petitioner (as in Duty bound) shall ever pray, &c.
Mr. Bickerstaff having examined the Allegations of the above
Petition, judges and determines, that Z be admonished to be content
with his Station, forbear Reflections upon his Brother Letters, &
remember his own small Usefulness, and the little Occasion there is
for him in the Republick of Letters, since S, whom he so despises,
can so well serve instead of him.
c. August, 1778
_The Ephemera_
Passy Sept 20, 1778
You may remember, my dear Friend, that when we lately spent
that happy Day in the delightful Garden and sweet Society of the
Moulin Joli, I stopt a little in one of our Walks, and staid some
time behind the Company. We had been shewn numberless Skeletons of a
kind of little Fly, called an Ephemere all whose successive
Generations we were told were bred and expired within the Day. I
happen’d to see a living Company of them on a Leaf, who appear’d to
be engag’d in Conversation. — You know I understand all the inferior
Animal Tongues: my too great Application to the Study of them is the
best Excuse I can give for the little Progress I have made in your
charming Language. I listened thro’ Curiosity to the Discourse of
these little Creatures, but as they in their national Vivacity spoke
three or four together, I could make but little of their Discourse.
I found, however, by some broken Expressions that I caught now &
then, they were disputing warmly the Merit of two foreign Musicians,
one a _Cousin_, the other a _Musketo_; in which Dispute they spent
their time seemingly as regardless of the Shortness of Life, as if
they had been Sure of living a Month. Happy People! thought I, you
live certainly under a wise, just and mild Government; since you have
no public Grievances to complain of, nor any Subject of Contention
but the Perfection or Imperfection of foreign Music. I turned from
them to an old greyheaded one, who was single on another Leaf, &
talking to himself. Being amus’d with his Soliloquy, I have put it
down in writing in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am So
much indebted for the most pleasing of all Amusements, her delicious
Company and her heavenly Harmony.
"It was, says he, the Opinion of learned Philosophers of our
Race, who lived and flourished long before my time, that this vast
World, the _Moulin Joli_, could not itself subsist more than 18
Hours; and I think there was some Foundation for that Opinion, since
by the apparent Motion of the great Luminary that gives Life to all
Nature, and which in my time has evidently declin’d considerably
towards the Ocean at the End of our Earth, it must then finish its
Course, be extinguish’d in the Waters that surround us, and leave the
World in Cold and Darkness, necessarily producing universal Death and
Destruction. I have lived seven of these Hours; a great Age; being
no less than 420 minutes of Time. How very few of us continue So
long. — I have seen Generations born, flourish and expire. My
present Friends are the Children and Grandchildren of the Friends of
my Youth, who are now, alas, no more! And I must soon follow them;
for by the Course of Nature, tho’ still in Health, I cannot expect to
live above 7 or 8 Minutes longer. What now avails all my Toil and
Labour in amassing Honey-Dew on this Leaf, which I cannot live to
enjoy! What the political Struggles I have been engag’d in for the
Good of my Compatriotes, Inhabitants of this Bush, or my
philosophical Studies for the Benefit of our Race in general! For in
Politics _what can Laws do without Morals._ (note-Ephemera-1, see
page 924) Our present Race of Ephemeres will in a Course of Minutes,
become corrupt like those of other and older Bushes, and consequently
as wretched. And in Philosophy how small our Progress! Alas, _Art
is long and Life is short_! (note-Ephemera-2, see page 924) — My
Friends would comfort me with the Idea of a Name they Say I shall
leave behind me; and they tell me I have _lived long enough, to
Nature and to Glory_; (note-Ephemera-3, see page 924) — But what
will Fame be to an Ephemere who no longer exists? And what will
become of all History in the 18th Hour, when the World itself, even
the whole _Moulin Joli_ shall come to its End, and be buried in
universal Ruin? — To me, after all my eager Pursuits, no solid
Pleasures now remain, but the Reflection of a long Life spent in
meaning well, the sensible Conversation of a few good Lady-Ephemeres,
and now and then a kind Smile and a Tune from the ever-amiable
BRILLANTE."
_The Elysian Fields_
M. FRANKLIN TO MADAME HELVETIUS
Vexed by your barbarous resolution, announced so positively
last evening, to remain single all your life in respect to your dear
husband, I went home, fell on my bed, and, believing myself dead,
found myself in the Elysian Fields.
I was asked if I desired to see anybody in particular. Lead me
to the home of the philosophers. — There are two who live nearby in
the garden: they are very good neighbors, and close friends of each
other. — Who are they? — Socrates and H —— . — I esteem them
both prodigiously; but let me see first H —— , because I
understand a little French, but not one word of Greek. He received
me with great courtesy, having known me for some time, he said, by
the reputation I had there. He asked me a thousand things about the
war, and about the present state of religion, liberty, and the
government in France. — You ask nothing then of your dear friend
Madame H —— ; nevertheless she still loves you excessively and I
was at her place but an hour ago. Ah! said he, you make me remember
my former felicity. — But it is necessary to forget it in order to
be happy here. During several of the early years, I thought only of
her. Finally I am consoled. I have taken another wife. The most
like her that I could find. She is not, it is true, so completely
beautiful, but she has as much good sense, a little more of Spirit,
and she loves me infinitely. Her continual study is to please me;
and she has actually gone to hunt the best Nectar and the best
Ambrosia in order to regale me this evening; remain with me and you
will see her. I perceive, I said, that your old friend is more
faithful than you: for several good offers have been made her, all of
which she has refused. I confess to you that I myself have loved her
to the point of distraction; but she was hard-hearted to my regard,
and has absolutely rejected me for love of you. I pity you, he said,
for your bad fortune; for truly she is a good and beautiful woman and
very loveable. But the Abbee de la R —— , and the Abbe M ——
, are they not still sometimes at her home? Yes, assuredly, for she
has not lost a single one of your friends. If you had won over the
Abbe M —— (with coffee and cream) to speak for you, perhaps you
would have succeeded; for he is a subtle logician like Duns Scotus or
St. Thomas; he places his arguments in such good order that they
become nearly irresistible. Also, if the Abbe de la R —– had been
bribed (by some beautiful edition of an old classic) to speak against
you, that would have been better: for I have always observed, that
when he advises something, she has a very strong penchant to do the
reverse. — At these words the new Madame H —— entered with the
Nectar: at which instant I recognized her to be Madame F —— , my
old American friend. I reclaimed to her. But she told me coldly, "I
have been your good wife forty-nine years and four months, nearly a
half century; be content with that. Here I have formed a new
connection, which will endure to eternity."
Offended by this refusal of my Eurydice, I suddenly decided to
leave these ungrateful spirits, to return to the good earth, to see
again the sunshine and you. Here I am! Let us revenge ourselves.
December 7, 1778
_Bilked for Breakfast_
MR. FRANKLIN TO MADAME LA FRETE
Upon my word, you did well, Madam, not to come so far, at so
inclement a Season, only to find so wretched a Breakfast. My Son & I
were not so wise. I will tell you the Story.
As the Invitation was for eleven O’clock, & you were of the
Party, I imagined I should find a substantial Breakfast; that there
would be a large Company; that we should have not only Tea, but
Coffee, Chocolate, perhaps a Ham, & several other good Things. I
resolved to go on Foot; my Shoes were a little too tight; I arrived
almost lamed. On entering the Courtyard, I was a little surprised to
find it so empty of Carriages, & to see that we were the first to
arrive. We go up the Stairs. Not a Sound. We enter the Breakfast
Room. No one except the Abbe & Monsieur Cabanis. Breakfast over, &
eaten! Nothing on the Table except a few Scraps of Bread & a little
Butter. General astonishment; a Servant sent running to tell Madame
Helvetius that we have come for Breakfast. She leaves her toilet
Table; she enters with her Hair half dressed. It is declared
surprising that I have come, when you wrote me that you would not
come. I Deny it. To prove it, they show me your Letter, which they
have received and kept.
Finally another Breakfast is ordered. One Servant runs for
fresh Water, another for Coals. The Bellows are plied with a will.
I was very Hungry; it was so late; "a watched pot is slow to boil,"
as Poor Richard says. Madame sets out for Paris & leaves us. We
begin to eat. The Butter is soon finished. The Abbe asks if we want
more. Yes, of course. He rings. No one comes. We talk; he forgets
the Butter. I began scraping the Dish; at that he seizes it & runs
to the Kitchen for some. After a while he comes slowly back, saying
mournfully that there is no more of it in the House. To entertain me
the Abbe proposes a Walk; my feet refuse. And so we give up
Breakfast; & we go upstairs to his apartment to let his good Books
furnish the end of our Repast — .
I am left utterly disconsolate, having, instead of half a Dozen
of your sweet, affectionate, substantial, & heartily applied Kisses,
which I expected from your Charity, having received only the Shadow
of one given by Madame Helvetius, willingly enough, it is true, but
the lightest & most superficial kiss that can possibly be imagined.
c. 1778
_Passport for Captain Cook_
To all Captains and Commanders of armed Ships acting by
Commission from the Congress of the United States of America, now in
war with Great Britain.
Gentlemen,
A Ship having been fitted out from England before the
Commencement of this War, to make Discoveries of new Countries in
Unknown Seas, under the Conduct of that most celebrated Navigator and
Discoverer Captain Cook; an Undertaking truly laudable in itself, as
the Increase of Geographical Knowledge facilitates the Communication
between distant Nations, in the Exchange of useful Products and
Manufactures, and the Extension of Arts, whereby the common
Enjoyments of human Life are multiply’d and augmented, and Science of
other kinds increased to the benefit of Mankind in general; this is,
therefore, most earnestly to recommend to every one of you, that, in
case the said Ship, which is now expected to be soon in the European
Seas on her Return, should happen to fall into your Hands, you would
not consider her as an Enemy, nor suffer any Plunder to be made of
the Effects contain’d in her, nor obstruct her immediate Return to
England, by detaining her or sending her into any other Part of
Europe or to America, but that you would treat the said Captain Cook
and his People with all Civility and Kindness, affording them, as
common Friends to Mankind, all the Assistance in your Power, which
they may happen to stand in need of. In so doing you will not only
gratify the Generosity of your own Dispositions, but there is no
doubt of your obtaining the Approbation of the Congress, and your
other American Owners. I have the honour to be, Gentlemen, your most
obedient humble Servant.
Given at Passy, near Paris, this 10th day of March, 1779.
_Plenipotentiary from the Congress of the
United States to the Court of France._
_The Morals of Chess_
[Playing at chess is the most ancient and most universal game
known among men; for its original is beyond the memory of history,
and it has, for numberless ages, been the amusement of all the
civilised nations of Asia, the Persians, the Indians, and the
Chinese. Europe has had it above a thousand years; the Spaniards
have spread it over their part of America; and it has lately begun to
make its appearance in the United States. It is so interesting in
itself, as not to need the view of gain to induce engaging in it; and
thence it is seldom played for money. Those therefore who have
leisure for such diversions, cannot find one that is more innocent:
and the following piece, written with a view to correct (among a few
young friends) some little improprieties in the practice of it, shows
at the same time that it may, in its effects on the mind, be not
merely innocent, but advantageous, to the vanquished as well as the
victor.]
The Game of Chess is not merely an idle Amusement. Several
very valuable qualities of the Mind, useful in the course of human
Life, are to be acquir’d or strengthened by it, so as to become
habits, ready on all occasions. For Life is a kind of Chess, in
which we often have Points to gain, & Competitors or Adversaries to
contend with; and in which there is a vast variety of good and ill
Events, that are in some degree the Effects of Prudence or the want
of it. By playing at Chess, then, we may learn,
I. _Foresight_, which looks a little into futurity, and
considers the Consequences that may attend an action; for it is
continually occurring to the Player, "If I move this piece, what will
be the advantages or disadvantages of my new situation? What Use can
my Adversary make of it to annoy me? What other moves can I make to
support it, and to defend myself from his attacks?"
II. _Circumspection_, which surveys the whole Chessboard, or
scene of action; the relations of the several pieces and situations,
the Dangers they are respectively exposed to, the several
possibilities of their aiding each other, the probabilities that the
Adversary may make this or that move, and attack this or the other
Piece, and what different Means can be used to avoid his stroke, or
turn its consequences against him.
III. _Caution_, not to make our moves too hastily. This habit
is best acquired, by observing strictly the laws of the Game; such
as, _If you touch a Piece, you must move it somewhere; if you set it
down, you must let it stand._ And it is therefore best that these
rules should be observed, as the Game becomes thereby more the image
of human Life, and particularly of War; in which, if you have
incautiously put yourself into a bad and dangerous position, you
cannot obtain your Enemy’s Leave to withdraw your Troops, and place
them more securely, but you must abide all the consequences of your
rashness.
And _lastly_, we learn by Chess the habit of not being
discouraged by present appearances in the state of our affairs, the
habit of hoping for a favourable Change, and that of persevering in
the search of resources. The Game is so full of Events, there is
such a variety of turns in it, the Fortune of it is so subject to
sudden Vicissitudes, and one so frequently, after long contemplation,
discovers the means of extricating one’s self from a supposed
insurmountable Difficulty, that one is encouraged to continue the
Contest to the last, in hopes of Victory from our own skill, or at
least of getting a stale mate, from the Negligence of our Adversary.
And whoever considers, what in Chess he often sees instances of, that
particular pieces of success are apt to produce Presumption, & its
consequent Inattention, by which more is afterwards lost than was
gain’d by the preceding Advantage, while misfortunes produce more
care and attention, by which the loss may be recovered, will learn
not to be too much discouraged by any present success of his
Adversary, nor to despair of final good fortune upon every little
Check he receives in the pursuit of it.
That we may therefore be induced more frequently to chuse this
beneficial amusement, in preference to others which are not attended
with the same advantages, every Circumstance that may increase the
pleasure of it should be regarded; and every action or word that is
unfair, disrespectful, or that in any way may give uneasiness, should
be avoided, as contrary to the immediate intention of both the
Players, which is to pass the Time agreably.
Therefore, first, if it is agreed to play according to the
strict rules, then those rules are to be exactly observed by both
parties, and should not be insisted on for one side, while deviated
from by the other — for this is not equitable.
Secondly, if it is agreed not to observe the rules exactly, but
one party demands indulgencies, he should then be as willing to allow
them to the other.
Thirdly, no false move should ever be made to extricate
yourself out of difficulty, or to gain an advantage. There can be no
pleasure in playing with a person once detected in such unfair
practice.
Fourthly, if your adversary is long in playing, you ought not
to hurry him, or express any uneasiness at his delay. You should not
sing, nor whistle, nor look at your watch, nor take up a book to
read, nor make a tapping with your feet on the floor, or with your
fingers on the table, nor do any thing that may disturb his
attention. For all these things displease; and they do not show your
skill in playing, but your craftiness or your rudeness.
Fifthly, you ought not to endeavour to amuse and deceive your
adversary, by pretending to have made bad moves, and saying that you
have now lost the game, in order to make him secure and careless, and
inattentive to your schemes: for this is fraud and deceit, not skill
in the game.
Sixthly, you must not, when you have gained a victory, use any
triumphing or insulting expression, nor show too much pleasure; but
endeavour to console your adversary, and make him less dissatisfied
with himself, by every kind of civil expression that may be used with
truth, such as, "you understand the game better than I, but you are a
little inattentive;" or, "you play too fast;" or, "you had the best
of the game, but something happened to divert your thoughts, and that
turned it in my favour."
Seventhly, if you are a spectator while others play, observe
the most perfect silence. For, if you give advice, you offend both
parties, him against whom you give it, because it may cause the loss
of his game, him in whose favour you give it, because, though it be
good, and he follows it, he loses the pleasure he might have had, if
you had permitted him to think until it had occurred to himself.
Even after a move or moves, you must not, by replacing the pieces,
show how they might have been placed better; for that displeases, and
may occasion disputes and doubts about their true situation. All
talking to the players lessens or diverts their attention, and is
therefore unpleasing. Nor should you give the least hint to either
party, by any kind of noise or motion. If you do, you are unworthy
to be a spectator. If you have a mind to exercise or show your
judgment, do it in playing your own game, when you have an
opportunity, not in criticizing, or meddling with, or counselling the
play of others.
Lastly, if the game is not to be played rigorously, according
to the rules above mentioned, then moderate your desire of victory
over your adversary, and be pleased with one over yourself. Snatch
not eagerly at every advantage offered by his unskilfulness or
inattention; but point out to him kindly, that by such a move he
places or leaves a piece in danger and unsupported; that by another
he will put his king in a perilous situation, &c. By this generous
civility (so opposite to the unfairness above forbidden) you may,
indeed, happen to lose the game to your opponent; but you will win
what is better, his esteem, his respect, and his affection, together
with the silent approbation and good-will of impartial spectators.
June, 1779
_The Whistle_
_Passy, November_ 10 1779.
I received my dear Friend’s two Letters, one for Wednesday &
one for Saturday. This is again Wednesday. I do not deserve one for
to day, because I have not answered the former. But indolent as I
am, and averse to Writing, the Fear of having no more of your
pleasing Epistles, if I do not contribute to the Correspondance,
obliges me to take up my Pen: And as M. B. has kindly sent me Word,
that he sets out to-morrow to see you; instead of spending this
Wednesday Evening as I have long done its Name-sakes, in your
delightful Company, I sit down to spend it in thinking of you, in
writing to you, & in reading over & over again your Letters.
I am charm’d with your Description of Paradise, & with your
Plan of living there. And I approve much of your Conclusion, that in
the mean time we should draw all the Good we can from this World. In
my Opinion we might all draw more Good, from it than we do, & suffer
less Evil, if we would but take care _not to give too much for our
Whistles._ For to me it seems that most of the unhappy People we meet
with, are become so by Neglect of that Caution.
You ask what I mean? — You love Stories, and will excuse my
telling you one of my self. When I was a Child of seven Years old,
my Friends on a Holiday fill’d my little Pocket with Halfpence. I
went directly to a Shop where they sold Toys for Children; and being
charm’d with the Sound of a Whistle that I met by the way, in the
hands of another Boy, I voluntarily offer’d and gave all my Money for
it. When I came home, whistling all over the House, much pleas’d
with my Whistle, but disturbing all the Family, my Brothers, Sisters
& Cousins, understanding the Bargain I had made, told me I had given
four times as much for it as it was worth, put me in mind what good
Things I might have bought with the rest of the Money, & laught at me
so much for my Folly that I cry’d with Vexation; and the Reflection
gave me more Chagrin than the Whistle gave me Pleasure.
This however was afterwards of use to me, the Impression
continuing on my Mind; so that often when I was tempted to buy some
unnecessary thing, I said to my self, _Do not give too much for the
Whistle_; and I sav’d my Money.
As I grew up, came into the World, and observed the Actions of
Men, I thought I met many _who gave too much for the Whistle_. –
When I saw one ambitious of Court Favour, sacrificing his Time in
Attendance at Levees, his Repose, his Liberty, his Virtue and perhaps
his Friend, to obtain it; I have said to my self, _This Man gives too
much for his Whistle_. — When I saw another fond of Popularity,
constantly employing himself in political Bustles, neglecting his own
Affairs, and ruining them by the Neglect, _He pays_, says I, _too
much for his Whistle_. — If I knew a Miser, who gave up every kind
of comfortable Living, all the pleasure of doing Good to others, all
the Esteem of his Fellow Citizens, & the Joys of benevolent
Friendship, for the sake of Accumulating Wealth, _Poor Man_, says I,
_you pay too much for your Whistle_. — When I met with a Man of
Pleasure, sacrificing every laudable Improvement of his Mind or of
his Fortune, to mere corporeal Satisfactions, & ruining his Health in
their Pursuit, _Mistaken Man_, says I, _you are providing Pain for
your self instead of Pleasure, you pay too much for your Whistle_. –
If I see one fond of Appearance, of fine Cloaths, fine Houses, fine
Furniture, fine Equipages, all above his Fortune, for which he
contracts Debts, and ends his Career in a Prison; _Alas_, says I, _he
has paid too much for his Whistle._ — When I saw a beautiful
sweet-temper’d Girl, marry’d to an ill-natured Brute of a Husband;
_What a Pity_, says I, _that she should pay so much for a Whistle!_
– In short, I conceiv’d that great Part of the Miseries of Mankind,
were brought upon them by the false Estimates they had made of the
Value of Things, and by their _giving too much for the Whistle._
Yet I ought to have Charity for these unhappy People, when I
consider that with all this Wisdom of which I am boasting, there are
certain things in the World so tempting; for Example the Apples of
King John, which happily are not to be bought, for if they were put
to sale by Auction, I might very easily be led to ruin my self in the
Purchase, and find that I had once more _given too much for the
Whistle._
Adieu, my dearest Friend, and believe me ever yours very
sincerely and with unalterable Affection.
Passy, 1779
_The Levee_
In the first chapter of Job we have an account of a transaction
said to have arisen in the court, or at the _levee_, of the best of
all possible princes, or of governments by a single person, viz. that
of God himself.
At this _levee_, in which the sons of God were assembled, Satan
also appeared.
It is probable the writer of that ancient book took his idea of
this _levee_ from those of the eastern monarchs of the age he lived
in.
It is to this day usual at the _levees_ of princes, to have
persons assembled who are enemies to each other, who seek to obtain
favor by whispering calumny and detraction, and thereby ruining those
that distinguish themselves by their virtue and merit. And kings
frequently ask a familiar question or two, of every one in the
circle, merely to show their benignity. These circumstances are
particularly exemplified in this relation.
If a modern king, for instance, finds a person in the circle
who has not lately been there, he naturally asks him how he has
passed his time since he last had the pleasure of seeing him? the
gentleman perhaps replies that he has been in the country to view his
estates, and visit some friends. Thus Satan being asked whence he
cometh? answers, "From going to and fro in the earth, and walking up
and down in it." And being further asked, whether he had considered
the uprightness and fidelity of the prince’s servant Job, he
immediately displays all the malignance of the designing courtier, by
answering with another question: "Doth Job serve God for naught?
Hast thou not given him immense wealth, and protected him in the
possession of it? Deprive him of that, and he will curse thee to thy
face." In modern phrase, Take away his places and his pensions, and
your Majesty will soon find him in the opposition.
This whisper against Job had its effect. He was delivered into
the power of his adversary, who deprived him of his fortune,
destroyed his family, and completely ruined him.
The book of Job is called by divines a sacred poem, and, with
the rest of the Holy Scriptures, is understood to be written for our
instruction.
What then is the instruction to be gathered from this supposed
transaction?
Trust not a single person with the government of your state.
For if the Deity himself, being the monarch may for a time give way
to calumny, and suffer it to operate the destruction of the best of
subjects; what mischief may you not expect from such power in a mere
man, though the best of men, from whom the truth is often
industriously hidden, and to whom falsehood is often presented in its
place, by artful, interested, and malicious courtiers?
And be cautious in trusting him even with limited powers, lest
sooner or later he sap and destroy those limits, and render himself
absolute.
For by the disposal of places, he attaches to himself all the
with their numerous connexions, and also all the expecters and hopers
of places, which will form a strong party in promoting his views. By
various political engagements for the interest of neighbouring states
or princes, he procures their aid in establishing his own personal
power. So that, through the hopes of emolument in one part of his
subjects, and the fear of his resentment in the other, all opposition
falls before him.
1779?
_Proposed New Version of the Bible_
TO THE PRINTER OF * * *
SIR,
It is now more than one hundred and seventy years since the
translation of our common English Bible. The language in that time
is much changed, and the style, being obsolete, and thence less
agreeable, is perhaps one reason why the reading of that excellent
book is of late so much neglected. I have therefore thought it would
be well to procure a new version, in which, preserving the sense, the
turn of phrase and manner of expression should be modern. I do not
pretend to have the necessary abilities for such a work myself; I
throw out the hint for the consideration of the learned; and only
venture to send you a few verses of the first chapter of Job, which
may serve as a sample of the kind of version I would recommend.
A. B.
PART OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF JOB MODERNIZED
OLD TEXT NEW VERSION
Verse 6. Now there was a day Verse 6. And it being _levee_
when the sons of God came to present day in heaven, all God’s nobility
themselves before the Lord, and came to present themselves before
Satan came also amongst them. him; and Satan also appeared in
the circle, as one of the ministry.
7. And the Lord said unto 7. And God said to Satan,
Satan, Whence comest thou? Then You have been some time absent;
Satan answered the Lord, and said, where were you? And Satan answered
From going to and fro in the earth, I have been at my country-seat,
and from walking up and down in it. and in different places visiting
my friends.
8. And the Lord said unto 8. And God said, Well what
Satan, Hast thou considered my think you of Lord Job? You see he
servant Job, that there is none like is my best friend, a perfectly
him in the earth, a perfect and an honest man, full of respect for
upright man, one that feareth God, me, and avoiding every thing that
and escheweth evil? might offend me.
9. Then Satan answered the 9. And Satan answered, Does
Lord, and said, Doth Job fear God your Majesty imagine that his good
for naught? conduct is the effect of mere
personal attachment and affection?
10. Hast thou not made an 10. Have you not protected
hedge about his house, and about all him, and heaped your benefits upon
that he hath on every side? Thou hast him, till he is grown enormously
blessed the work of his hands, and rich?
his substance is increased in the land.
11. But put forth thine hand 11. Try him; — only withdraw
now, and touch all that he hath, and your favor, turn him out of his
he will curse thee to thy face. places, and withhold his pensions,
and you will soon find him in the
opposition.
1779?
_Drinking Song_
TO THE ABBE DE LA ROCHE, AT AUTEUIL
I have run over, my dear friend, the little book of poetry by
M. Helvetius, with which you presented me. The poem on _Happiness_
pleased me much, and brought to my recollection a little drinking
song which I wrote forty years ago upon the same subject, and which
is nearly on the same plan, with many of the same thoughts, but very
concisely expressed. It is as follows: –
_Singer._
Fair Venus calls, her voice obey,
In beauty’s arms spend night and day.
The joys of love, all joys excel,
And loving’s certainly doing well.
_Chorus._
Oh! no!
Not so!
For honest souls know,
Friends and a bottle still bear the bell.
_Singer._
Then let us get money, like bees lay up honey;
We’ll build us new hives, and store each cell.
The sight of our treasure shall yield us great pleasure;
We’ll count it, and chink it, and jingle it well.
_Chorus._
Oh! no!
Not so!
For honest souls know,
Friends and a bottle still bear the bell.
_Singer._
If this does not fit ye, let’s govern the city,
In power is pleasure no tongue can tell;
By crowds tho’ you’re teas’d, your pride shall be pleas’d,
And this can make Lucifer happy in hell!
_Chorus._
Oh! no!
Not so!
For honest souls know,
Friends and a bottle still bear the bell.
_Singer._
Then toss off your glasses, and scorn the dull asses,
Who, missing the kernel, still gnaw the shell;
What’s love, rule, or riches? wise Solomon teaches,
They’re vanity, vanity, vanity, still.
_Chorus._
That’s true;
He knew;
He’d tried them all through;
Friends and a bottle still bore the bell.
‘Tis a singer, my dear Abbe, who exhorts his companions to seek
_happiness_ in _love_, in _riches_, and in _power._ They reply,
singing together, that happiness is not to be found in any of these
things; that it is only to be found in _friends_ and _wine._ To this
proposition the singer at last assents. The phrase _"bear the
bell,"_ answers to the French expression, _"obtain the prize."_
I have often remarked, in reading the works of M. Helvetius,
that although we were born and educated in two countries so remote
from each other, we have often been inspired with the same thoughts;
and it is a reflection very flattering to me, that we have not only
loved the same studies, but, as far as we have mutually known them,
the same friends, and _the same woman._
Adieu! my dear friend, &c.
1779?
_A Tale_
There was once an Officer, a worthy man, named Montresor, who
was very ill. His parish Priest, thinking he would die, advised him
to make his Peace with God, so that he would be received into
Paradise. "I don’t feel much Uneasiness on that Score," said
Montresor; "for last Night I had a Vision which set me entirely at
rest." "What Vision did you have?" asked the good Priest. "I was,"
he said, "at the Gate of Paradise with a Crowd of People who wanted
to enter. And St. Peter asked each of them what Religion he belonged
to. One answered, `I am a Roman Catholic.’ `Very well,’ said St.
Peter; `come in, & take your Place over there among the Catholics.’
Another said he belonged to the Anglican Church. `Very well,’ said
St. Peter; `come in, & take your Place over there among the
Anglicans.’ Another said he was a Quaker. `Very well,’ said St.
Peter; `come in, & take a Place among the Quakers.’ Finally he asked
me what my Religion was. `Alas!’ I replied, `unfortunately, poor
Jacques Montresor belongs to none at all.’ `That’s a pity,’ said the
Saint. `I don’t know where to put you but come in anyway; just find
a Place for yourself wherever you can.’"
1779?
_On Wine_
FROM THE ABBE FRANKLIN TO THE ABBE MORELLET
You have often enlivened me, my dear friend, by your excellent
drinking-songs; in return, I beg to edify you by some Christian,
moral, and philosophical reflections upon the same subject.
_In vino veritas_, says the wise man, — _Truth is in wine._
Before the days of Noah, then, men, having nothing but water to
drink, could not discover the truth. Thus they went astray, became
abominably wicked, and were justly exterminated by _water_, which
they loved to drink.
The good man Noah, seeing that through this pernicious beverage
all his contemporaries had perished, took it in aversion; and to
quench his thirst God created the vine, and revealed to him the means
of converting its fruit into wine. By means of this liquor he
discovered numberless important truths; so that ever since his time
the word to _divine_ has been in common use, signifying originally,
_to discover by means of_ WINE. (VIN) Thus the patriarch Joseph took
upon himself to _divine_ by means of a cup or glass of wine, a liquor
which obtained this name to show that it was not of human but
_divine_ invention (another proof of the _antiquity_ of the French
language, in opposition to M. Geebelin); nay, since that time, all
things of peculiar excellence, even the Deities themselves, have been
called _Divine_ or Di_vin_ities.
We hear of the conversion of water into wine at the marriage in
Cana as of a miracle. But this conversion is, through the goodness
of God, made every day before our eyes. Behold the rain which
descends from heaven upon our vineyards; there it enters the roots of
the vines, to be changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves
us, and loves to see us happy. The miracle in question was only
performed to hasten the operation, under circumstances of present
necessity, which required it.
It is true that God has also instructed man to reduce wine into
water. But into what sort of water? — _Water of Life._ (_Eaude
Vie._) And this, that man may be able upon occasion to perform the
miracle of Cana, and convert common water into that excellent species
of wine which we call _punch._ My Christian brother, be kind and
benevolent like God, and do not spoil his good drink.
He made wine to gladden the heart of man; do not, therefore
when at table you see your neighbor pour wine into his glass, be
eager to mingle water with it. Why would you drown _truth_? It is
probable that your neighbor knows better than you what suits him.
Perhaps he does not like water; perhaps he would only put in a few
drops for fashion’s sake; perhaps he does not wish any one to observe
how little he puts in his glass. Do not, then, offer water, except
to children; ‘t is a mistaken piece of politeness, and often very
inconvenient. I give you this hint as a man of the world; and I will
finish as I began, like a good Christian, in making a religious
observation of high importance, taken from the Holy Scriptures. I
mean that the apostle Paul counselled Timothy very seriously to put
wine into his water for the sake of his health; but that not one of
the apostles or holy fathers ever recommended _putting water to
wine._
P.S. To confirm still more your piety and gratitude to Divine
Providence, reflect upon the situation which it has given to the
_elbow._ You see (Figures 1 and 2) in animals, who are intended to
drink the waters that flow upon the earth, that if they have long
legs, they have also a long neck, so that they can get at their drink
without kneeling down. But man, who was destined to drink wine, must
be able to raise the glass to his mouth. If the elbow had been
placed nearer the hand (as in Figure 3), the part in advance would
have been too short to bring the glass up to the mouth; and if it had
been placed nearer the shoulder, (as in Figure 4) that part would
have been so long that it would have carried the wine far beyond the
mouth. But by the actual situation, (represented in Figure 5), we
are enabled to drink at our ease, the glass going exactly to the
mouth. Let us, then, with glass in hand, adore this benevolent
wisdom; — let us adore and drink!
1779?
_Dialogue Between the Gout and Mr. Franklin_
MIDNIGHT, OCTOBER 22, 1780
MR. F.
Eh! oh! eh! What have I done to merit these cruel sufferings?
THE GOUT
Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, and too much
indulged those legs of yours in their indolence.
MR. F.
Who is it that accuses me?
THE GOUT
It is I, even I, the Gout.
MR. F.
What! my enemy in person?
THE GOUT
No, not your enemy.
MR. F.
I repeat it, my enemy; for you would not only torment my body
to death, but ruin my good name; you reproach me as a glutton and a
tippler; now all the world, that knows me, will allow that I am
neither the one nor the other.
THE GOUT
The world may think as it pleases; it is always very
complaisant to itself, and sometimes to its friends; but I very well
know that the quantity of meat and drink proper for a man who takes a
reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much for another who
never takes any.
MR. F.
I take — eh! oh! — as much exercise — eh! — as I can, Madam
Gout. You know my sedentary state, and on that account, it would
seem, Madam Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing it is not
altogether my own fault.
THE GOUT
Not a jot; your rhetoric and your politeness are thrown away;
your apology avails nothing. If your situation in life is a
sedentary one, your amusements, your recreation, at least, should be
active. You ought to walk or ride; or, if the weather prevents that,
play at billiards. But let us examine your course of life. While
the mornings are long, and you have leisure to go abroad, what do you
do? Why, instead of gaining an appetite for breakfast by salutary
exercise, you amuse yourself with books, pamphlets, or newspapers,
which commonly are not worth the reading. Yet you eat an inordinate
breakfast, four dishes of tea with cream, and one or two buttered
toasts, with slices of hung beef, which I fancy are not things the
most easily digested. Immediately afterwards you sit down to write
at your desk, or converse with persons who apply to you on business.
Thus the time passes till one, without any kind of bodily exercise.
But all this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to your sedentary
condition. But what is your practice after dinner? Walking in the
beautiful gardens of those friends with whom you have dined would be
the choice of men of sense; yours is to be fixed down to chess, where
you are found engaged for two or three hours! This is your perpetual
recreation, which is the least eligible of any for a sedentary man,
because, instead of accelerating the motion of the fluids, the rigid
attention it requires helps to retard the circulation and obstruct
internal secretions. Wrapt in the speculations of this wretched
game, you destroy your constitution. What can be expected from such
a course of living but a body replete with stagnant humours, ready to
fall a prey to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the Gout, did
not occasionally bring you relief by agitating those humours, and so
purifying or dissipating them? If it was in some nook or alley in
Paris, deprived of walks, that you played a while at chess after
dinner, this might be excusable; but the same taste prevails with you
in Passy, Auteuil, Montmartre, or Sanoy, places where there are the
finest gardens and walks, a pure air, beautiful women, and most
agreeable and instructive conversation: all which you might enjoy by
frequenting the walks. But these are rejected for this abominable
game of chess. Fie, then, Mr. Franklin! But amidst my instructions,
I had almost forgot to administer my wholesome corrections; so take
that twinge — and that.
MR. F.
Oh! eh! oh! ohhh! As much instruction as you please, Madam
Gout, and as many reproaches; but pray, Madam, a truce with your
corrections!
THE GOUT
No, Sir, no, I will not abate a particle of what is so much for
your good — therefore ——
Mr. F.
Oh! ehhh! — It is not fair to say I take no exercise, when I
do very often, going out to dine and returning in my carriage.
THE GOUT
That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most slight and
insignificant, if you allude to the motion of a carriage suspended on
springs. By observing the degree of heat obtained by different kinds
of motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity of exercise given
by each. Thus, for example, if you turn out to walk in winter with
cold feet, in an hour’s time you will be in a glow all over; ride on
horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived by four hours’
round trotting; but if you loll in a carriage, such as you have
mentioned, you may travel all day and gladly enter the last inn to
warm your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself then no longer that half
an hour’s airing in your carriage deserves the name of exercise.
Providence has appointed few to roll in carriages, while he has given
to all a pair of legs, which are machines infinitely more commodious
and serviceable. Be grateful, then, and make a proper use of yours.
Would you know how they forward the circulation of your fluids in the
very action of transporting you from place to place, observe when you
walk that all your weight is alternately thrown from one leg to the
other; this occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot,
and repels their contents; when relieved, by the weight being thrown
on the other foot, the vessels of the first are allowed to replenish,
and by a return of this weight, this repulsion again succeeds; thus
accelerating the circulation of the blood. The heat produced in any
given time depends on the degree of this acceleration; the fluids are
shaken, the humours attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all
goes well; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is established. Behold
your fair friend at Auteuil; a lady who received from bounteous
nature more really useful science than half a dozen such pretenders
to philosophy as you have been able to extract from all your books.
When she honours you with a visit, it is on foot. She walks all
hours of the day, and leaves indolence, and its concomitant maladies,
to be endured by her horses. In this, see at once the preservative
of her health and personal charms. But when you go to Auteuil, you
must have your carriage, though it is no farther from Passy to
Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy.
Mr. F.
Your reasonings grow very tiresome.
THE GOUT
I stand corrected. I will be silent and continue my office;
take that, and that.
MR. F.
Oh! Ohh! Talk on, I pray you.
THE GOUT
No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you tonight, and
you may be sure of some more tomorrow.
MR. F.
What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! eh! Can
no one bear it for me?
THE GOUT
Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.
MR. F.
How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?
THE GOUT
Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of offences
against your own health distinctly written, and can justify every
stroke inflicted on you.
MR. F.
Read it then.
THE GOUT
It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some
particulars.
MR. F.
Proceed. I am all attention.
THE GOUT
Do you remember how often you have promised yourself, the
following morning, a walk in the grove of Boulogne, in the garden de
La Muette, or in your own garden, and have violated your promise,
alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another too warm, too
windy, too moist, or what else you pleased; when in truth it was too
nothing but your insuperable love of ease?
MR. F.
That I confess may have happened occasionally, probably ten
times in a year.
THE GOUT
Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross
amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times.
MR. F.
Is it possible?
THE GOUT
So possible that it is fact; you may rely on the accuracy of my
statement. You know M. Brillon’s gardens, and what fine walks they
contain; you know the handsome flight of an hundred steps which lead
from the terrace above to the lawn below. You have been in the
practice of visiting this amiable family twice a week, after dinner,
and it is a maxim of your own, that "a man may take as much exercise
in walking a mile up and down stairs, as in ten on level ground."
What an opportunity was here for you to have had exercise in both
these ways! Did you embrace it, and how often?
MR. F.
I cannot immediately answer that question.
THE GOUT
I will d
